A Small Treatise betwixt ARNALTE and LUCENDA entitled The Evill-intreated Lover, OR The Melancholy Knight.  
Originally written in the greek Tongue, by an unknown Author.  
Afterwards Translated into Spanish; after that, for the Excellency thereof, into the French Tongue by N. H. next by B. M. into the tuscan, and now turned into English Verse by L. L. a well-wisher to the Muses.  Ovid. de trist. Si qua meis fuerint, ut erunt, vitiosalibellis Excusata suo tempore Lector habe. 
LONDON: Printed by J. oaks for H. Mosley, and are to be sold at his shop, at the sign of the Princes arms in Pauls Church-yard, 1639.   

To his more than honoured uncle Adam laurence: Leonard laurence wisheth increase of happiness, with the Yeares of Nestor.  
Sir,  
WHen first I Translated this small Treatise of Arnalte and Lucenda, I was resolved to have tendered it to Your honoured view, fairly written in a well-pen'd Manuscript: but since that time my Resolutions are altered, yet not somuch through my own desires, as by the persuasion of some well-wishing friends; who earnest to have some Copies of( I must confess) these my weak Endeavours, encouraged me to sand it to the press, thereby to avoid the tediousness of writing: To these their motions I was easily persuaded, and that the rather, 'cause my Subject had formerly been a Printed Object:( though in another tongue) Yet I protest no vain ambition, no fantastic desire, to be perspicuous to the transparent eye of the world incited me, but onely the importunity of friends: this I hope will excuse my forwardness, either to Your worthy self, or any indifferent Reader; the ingenious I am sure will encourage my resolutions; and as for the Hidra-headed multitude, let them spit the venom of their malicious Envy, and spare not; for I have already prevented the operation of their poison, with an Antidote of sufficient worth, which is, my neglect of such critical dispositions: and if this be not sufficient, why the two capital Letters of Your ever-honour'd name, is of force enough to confounded them with amazement. For which reason, I knowing it to be customary to such as writ books, to Dedicate their Labours to some one or other; some tendering their works to the view of Grand-Personages,( I will not say in hope of reward) others to their special friends,( perhaps in respect of love and familiarity) yet both( I am confident( with intent, that they may be set forth to the perspicuous eye of the world; have choose Your most respected self, to patronise my post-ensuing Lines; not knowing any so worthy, or more judicious, or to whom I am more obliged. Or have I dared to tender them to the acceptance of any other, sith they are Yours, and You may justly claim them, I having Devoted all my Services to Your Candid self. These if You deign to protect, I'll not care for Carping Momus, or Barking zoilus, though they should tax me with a Westminsterian Epitaph: albeit I confess I was never such a pretender to Learning( though I know not much) as to steal whole Verses, though it bee lawful to Quacke-salve Lame Lines with helping words, and two Physitians use one and the selfsame Simples( though differently Compounded) but to writ Verbatim, I'd not affront any mans ingenium, so ignobly, or dishonour myself so basely, though thousands know it not: one may come with Virgils Verse in his mouth, and say, 
Hos ego versiculos feci, tulit alter honores.  But's no matter, such Censurers may use their freedom, I will not say of ignorance or envy, if of either I care not: It's Your honoured self, whom I observe: so you be pleased, it imports not who's offended.  
My Genius having prompt me to present these impoverished Lines to Your judicious Censure; I shall entreat You'd pardon the faults my English style affords; and attribute them to my unskilfulness; I must confess( and believe) there bee many, yet since more sublimer Wits have had some, mine may bee the more excusable; for if the finest lawn have an Iron-mould,( witness yourself) it may bee born withall in a courser piece.  
But what need I direct the freeness of Your Noble Disposition, or the generosity of your super-excellent mind, since the Transcendency of Your judgement, manifests that you'll have this consideration; that a small hair cannot give so great a shadow as a big Cable, nor a Needles point, so large a circumference as a wide circled. I need not unfold th' aenigma of my meaning, Car, au, bon entendeur ne fault queen demi parole. As Painters draw a Counter-Figies by a living Object; so have I enterprised to translate a book, being a Printed Subject; yet if I give not a true resemblance, or lay my shadows right, representing th' Idea of my Prose, though Metamorphis'd into Verse, impute it to my want of Art, not of Desire: Thus, if you please to protect these my employments, which kept my Wits busy for some spare houres, from the taxations of false-opinionate men, whose critical Censures I may compare to Paris Darts, or Cephalus Shafts, which transpierce the best armor of proof, though of Vulcans own forging. I'll promise, when as I am grown more cunning, and can mix my colours better, to Present You with some more serious Piece: In the interim I, tendering these to Your protection, recommend You to the tuition of the universal Rector, who Felicitate all Your Enterprizes; whilst I, with all respect, and submissive Reverence, humbly kiss Your hands, and remain in hope of the continuance of Your Favours,  
Your well-wishing, and most affectionate Nephew: Leonard laurence.   

To the Noble-minded READER.  
SIR, if my Lines should chance come unto  
The worthy prospect of your noble view,  
Although they are( I must confess) unfit  
To walk in equipage with better Wit;  
Nor worth th'observance of your curious Eye,  
Yet red them pray, and pass their faults; for why  
A stock ungrafted never yet could yield  
Such pleasant fruit as pruned Trees: the Field  
Vntill'd( you know) can nothing else produce,  
unless wild weeds, good to no wholesome use.  
Wild Grapes, though prest, yield no such pleasant wines  
As the rich clusters of the manured Vines:  
Or can the Crab-tree such an Apple bear  
As the faire Pippin; then Sir, shall I dare  
Presume to think my Genius or my brains  
Can Echo forth such high Cothurnick strains,  
As those ingenious Wits, who well may claim  
The sacred Title of a Poets name?  
far be't from me to harbour such a thought,  
Since in respect of such, I'm worse than nought  
By many thousands: thus your pardon deign,  
Excuse my faults, 'twill recompense my pain:  
For know some time my Muse and I have spent  
This work to finish, which I now have sent.  
For since Report had falsely blazed, that I  
Could steal whole Verses, but not versify,  
I choose a Subject thereby to express  
The skill I have, how to compact a Verse.  
Yet Sirs, bear with me, though they do not run  
With fluent strains most sweetly on your tongue▪  
I ne're was lulled asleep upon the lap  
Of some sweet Muse, I never took a nap  
under the shady Leaves of Phoebus three,  
The Groves of Tempe I did never see.  
Th' are the first blossoms of my unskilled brain,  
Which if you please to cherish and maintain,  
With the bright Sun-shine of your favour, then  
The uipping Frosts of selfe-opinionate men,  
Nor Envies blasts shall never have the power  
To crop the Bud of this my growing Flower.  
This if you grant, 'twill tie me to remain  
Your constant Friend, to which I sign my Name.  
L. LAWRENCE.   

To all Faire Ladies, Famous for their virtues, L. L. wisheth the enjoyment of their Desires; whether celestial, or terrestrial, but most especially to that Paragon of Perfection, the very nonesuch of her sex, famous by the Name of Mistris M. S.  
OH stand my Friends ye sacred Treble-trine  
Of divine Sisters, oh ye Muses Nine,  
Inflame my Genius, and my thoughts inspire  
With the bright beams of your Aetheriall fire:  
Oh teach me words which yet were never known,  
The choicest strains that flow from Helicon,  
And rape me up with Raptures ' yond the pitch  
Of vulgar thought; my obtuse mind enrich  
With quick Invention, for I have a task  
Beyond my skill, therefore your aid I ask.  
Be then propitious unto my designs,  
And prompt my thoughts, that I in strenuous Lines,  
And words compacted by your proper pain,  
May gain excuse; yet lest I should profane  
The sacred worth of those Faire Ladies, who  
May claim all honour as their proper due,  
What Attributes, what honoured Titles shall  
My trembling Tongue, my Faculties, and all  
My labouring Senses study to confer  
On their Rare worths, who scarce know how to err?  
Call I them Ladies? why their sex doth claim  
The proper Title of that gentle Name:  
style I them faire ones? of an Angels hue,  
That's but their right, I give them but their due:  
Say I th'are virtuous? why their actions show  
It most apparent, and the world doth know  
I should but flatter, if I should confine  
My Tongue to style them Goddesses divine:  
Though others use it, pardon me, not I,  
I have no power for to deify,  
Though I adore ye, and would sacrifice  
My Life to serve ye: what shall I device,  
What shall I add, or what shall I express  
To sound your praises? Oh I must confess  
It is a Subject for an Homers Quill,  
By far transcending my unlearned skill:  
M' Invention's dull, or is it so sublime,  
To touch your worths, you being most divine:  
What new-coined Titles, what unheard of strains  
Shall I then frame, to blazon forth your fames?  
Alas, I'd best strike sail, waft to the shore,  
And Anchor there, not dare to venture o'er  
This Sea of Honour, ' less I had the Art  
Of Heraldry, your Titles to impart,  
Or skill to blaze them in their several Tables  
drawn out with Or, with Argent, and with Sables;  
Gules, furs, & Azure, Bands, bars, Chev'rons, crosses,  
Bulls, bears, and lions, with the well-shap't Horses:  
Or that my bark were better rigged and trimmed,  
Or that I had a fairer gale of wind  
T' embreath the sails of my most slake Invention,  
And so transport me with quick apprehension.  
And now more than my Tongue can style ye, know  
I am obliged and eke engaged to show  
Unto the prospect of your glorious eyes,  
The sighs, the sobs, the woes, the miseries  
Of tortured Arnalt, who doth living die  
Through th' unkindness and strange cruelty  
Which faire Lucenda shows him: this his Fate  
He doth entreat you to compassionate,  
And to bewail his sufferings, to complain  
Of her neglect and tyrant-like disdain,  
Which is the cause of his afflicting smart,  
And of the tortures which infest his heart.  
Oh if you chance but ever to distil  
A Pearle-like tear, he doth believe it will  
Be of such force, that it will mollify  
Her flinty heart, convert her cruelty  
To courteous kindness, move her to repent  
Her peevish coyness, cause him sweet content.  
Then oh ye Rare ones, since ye thus may save  
Our ill-intreated Lover from the grave,  
express your pitty, oh bewail his fate,  
tax the unkindness and invet'rate hate  
Of coy Lucenda, blame her for neglect:  
Oh tell her, tell her, that such true respect  
She doth not merit, since she still disdains  
His proffered love, his service, and his pains:  
And let the beams of your bright goodness shine  
Also faire Ladies on these Lines of mine,  
Which though unworthy of your gracious view,  
Vouchsafe to red, they being sent to you;  
'Twill please sad Arnalt, and exhilarate  
His pensive thoughts; perhaps 't may recreate  
Your fancies wearied with excess of pleasure,  
But 'twill reward me with too rich a Treasure,  
And so engage me, that I shall not know  
How to obsolve the Debts the which I owe  
Unto your worths, for why, they cannot be  
repaid without some new-coined Mystery:  
Thus with my book I kiss your faire white hand,  
And at the bar of your just knowledge stand  
To hear our doom; it's you must judgement give  
If by Oblivion we shall die, or live  
With famed eternised: give your Verdict then,  
And with it life in spite of envious men.  
Say you'l protect it, say 't shall take a nap,  
Encurtain'd closely in your silken laps:  
Grant this sweet Ladies unto him who stil  
Will be obsequious to your honoured wills,  
Yea, unto him, who ever will remain  
More than your servant, well known by the name  
of L. L.   

To his respected second-selfe L. L.  
HOW can thy worth be more expressed, than by  
The pleasant fruits of th' ingenuity?  
The praise whereof shall tend to thy renown,  
Yea, bind thy Temples with a laurel crown:  
Envy may bark, but shall not bite thy name,  
Nor yet have force to rob thee of thy famed.  
heed no aspersions, set thyself at rest,  
The suppressed palm fructifieth best:  
Apollo's sons, Minerva's Darlings will  
Applaud thy Genius, and maintain it still.  
Thy private friends( experienced) will confess  
There's worth, there's wit, there's learning in thy Verse:  
And thy familiars, wishing thee the bays,  
Have song Encomiums to thy lasting praise.  
Shall I now laud thee? no, 't must be some other;  
My reason's this, because I am thy brother  
J. laurence.   

To his worthy Friend the Author, upon his Translation.  
THY Arnalt sad, yet sweetly sung, will move  
In all delight and pleasure, win their love.  
So Philomel, whilst of her Rape she plains,  
The senses ravished with delightsome strains.  
Then do not suffer this thy work to dwell  
With dull Oblivion in her gloomy Cell:  
What though thy Arnalt doth himself confine  
To Groves? yet to the World let thy Muse shine:  
fear not the ill-intreated Lovers Fate,  
All lovingly will ' treat thy Muse, none hate.  
W. M.   

To His Ingenious Friend the Author, upon his Translation.  
I Have beholded, with an admiring eye,  
These thy first blossoms of sweet poesy,  
Sprung from thy Infant-Muse, whose leaves do show  
A fragrantnesse; although they did not grow  
Nigh Helicon, or on the fertile strand  
Of sacred Tempe, or Parnassus Land.  
Thy Verse( though sad) is fraught with such sweet lays,  
That it deserves the ever-verdent bays  
Of famed Apollo, for I vow you merit,  
If for reward, a greater to inherit.  
Thou show'st us Arnalt, yes, and thy Translation  
Sheweth thy Genius, and thy Education:  
And we that can no French, are bound to thee  
In bonds of love, for letting us to see  
His lovesick Story most exactly writ  
In English Verse, penned by thy fluent wit.  
No more Ile say, friend laurence, for thy worth  
It's badge enough to set thy virtues forth;  
For who so reads thy Lines, they will confess  
Thy Muse runs well, having o're-tane the press.  
R. Knowles.   

To his much esteemed Friend L. L. upon his Translation of Arnalte and Lucenda.  
I Must confess, these Lines which thou hast writ,  
express( kind friend) thy Genius and thy Wit:  
and these thy Verses have revived in me  
The e'en dead sparks of pleasing poetry:  
'Cause I'd say something in the commendation  
Of this thy Poem, and well-pen'd Translation:  
I do not writ to beautify thy work,  
Nor under covert of thy sheets to lurk,  
And so to crowd into the press, not I,  
But to applaud thy ingenuity:  
The Greeks, th' Italians, Spaniards, French-men too,  
They are beholding Sir, I vow to you:  
My reason's this, since by thy pains and Pen,  
Th' hast taught pure English to their Country-men,  
And thereon their worth's perspicuous to our Nation.  
By this thy copious and refined Translation.  
Hadst thou been tutored, or at first brought up  
To quaff of Nectar in a golden Cup,  
I' de ne're admired these thy strenuous Lines,  
Nor yet have wondered at thy well pen'drimes:  
But's strange, me thinks, that one who daily uses  
To trade, and traffiicke, thus should Court the Muses:  
Then thrive in Raptures, and transcendent lays,  
That famed may crown thee with a wreathe of bay.  
N. P.   

To his much honoured Friend, L. L.  
IT were in vain for me to blaze thy worth,  
This thy Translation plainly sets it forth:  
And eke thy Lines, they all are so well penned,  
That they alone may serve thee to commend:  
Should I extol thee, why it will but show  
That to the World, which they already know:  
Then all Ile say, the all I do intend,  
'T shall be to show, I'm proud of such a friend.  
I. A.   

To his true Friend, L. L.  
ART graceth Nature: yet the grace of Art  
grows from those Gifts, good Nature doth imparts  
Noe Art, nor Natures gifts are scarce in thee,  
Thy Lines will show, which, like thyself, are free.  
Thy natural Genius shines forth in thy brain,  
Which Time can't rust, nor spatring Envy stain:  
The Muses bless thee still, as th' have begun:  
Thus prays thy friend, and thus thy friend hath done▪  
R. M.   

The Translator tenders his respect to all ingenious Poets, who, he hopes will cherish these his Infant Verses, as being the first that he ever Writ.  
I Will not venture to usurp or claim  
The sacred Title of a Poets name,  
Or dare to challenge ought that doth belong  
Unto their merits, least their worths I wrong.  
The Worlds applausive praise I will resign  
To Phoebus sons, their Raptures are Divine,  
Sublime transcendent; and their Candor's such,  
That I can but the superficies touch  
Of their perfections: no, I have no skill  
To sound their praises, or to guide my quill:  
To portrait forth th' Idea of their famed,  
unless by writing of a Poets name;  
Yet that's enough; for sweete-ton'd poesy  
Makes men immortal, and doth deify  
Them by their actions: what was ever writ  
By a true Poet, famed eternised it;  
witness an Homer, or brave Horace name,  
Propertius, Virgil, or sweet Ovids famed:  
Or look but back to these our modern times,  
Spencer, though dead, surviveth by his rhymes;  
johnson, and others, needless to rehearse,  
Are eternised by their famous Verse;  
Unto whose worths, Time-during famed hath raised  
Trophies of Honour, to their lasting praise.  
Oh that I could but show, or else express  
How much I honour the ingenuousnesse  
Of great Apollo's darlings, who surpass  
So far the Vulgar, as bright Diamonds glass!  
My Lines are framed in a Leaden mould,  
Their strains composed of the purest gold;  
Whose high-tun'd words, like precious gems adorn  
The Readers ear, too costly to be worn  
By every Vulgar critic, who despite  
All sense or reason, be it wrong or right,  
Will spit the venom of their malice, and  
Censure mens Labours, though not understand:  
But's to no purpose; say they what they will,  
Poets are Poets, they but Coxecombes still.   

A Small Treatise betwixt ARNALTE and LUCENDA: entitled, The Evill-intreated Lover.  
there's but a Summer past; the golden sun,  
He hath but once his annual course o're-run,  
And lodged his fire-breathing Steeds within  
The lofty Stables of could Pisces inn:  
And fragrant Flora, dewie-breasted queen  
Of Hills and valleys, which we all have seen  
Be-spread with Grasse-greene Carpets, intermixed  
With pleasing Flowers, which no Art had fixed.  
For by their spreadings and their dispersed show,  
One might perceive that Nature caused them grow:  
Attended on with troops of lovely Roses,  
Carnations, lilies, which the Spring discloses;  
And divers sorts of various coloured Flowers,  
As Pinks and Pawnses, nurs't by Aprils showers.  
Shee hath but once with this her train given place  
To wintring hiems, with his Snow-white face,  
Since I a Journey, to myself no gain,  
Did undertake; for, for my Friend the pain,  
I freely did embrace, for certainly,  
The place at distance far remote did lie,  
Whereto I was add rest: but with my stead,  
Like Pegasus I did intend to speed.  
But having some dayes spent in this my race,  
My fortunes brought me to a desert place,  
Set thick with Trees, whose lofty tops aspire  
To kiss the Clouds; nay yet to reach more higher,  
Spreading their branches with that large extent,  
That from my eyes they hide the Firmament;  
joining so close, that they did Phoebus shrowd,  
As he had been behind some watery cloud;  
And interposed his glorious beams, that he  
Was forced to peep to spy his Daphnean three.  
Under their shades the valleys prostrate lay,  
Where Wolves and Foxes did their gamboiles play:  
No silly sheep, or lambs were ever seen  
To browse or feed upon those plains, though green:  
The labouring ox, nor the Milke-giving Cow  
Did e're graze there, or hath the sharpe-edg'd Plough  
been ever known to furrow up that Land:  
No House or Cottage on that ground did stand,  
'Twas unfrequented, not a tract was seen  
Of man or beast, 'twas all o're-growne with green,  
With Thistles, thorns, and the scratching Brier:  
The box and Holly which withstand the ire  
Of Winters rage, for they are always seen  
For to survive, clad in their robes of green.  
No noise I heard, no cry of coupled Hounds,  
Whose bawling throats do make the Woods resound  
Their yelping clamour, all was quiet there:  
No lusty Keeper hollowed in his Deere;  
'Twas hush and silent less some pretty Rill  
Which murmuring ran at foot of some tall Hill,  
Or else the whistlings that the wind did breath,  
Which made a rushling 'mongst the trembling leaves.  
No shepherd pip't the whilst his Flocks did graize:  
No pretty Birds did warble out sweet lays,  
unless 'twere such whose chirping Notes did sound  
Anthems of sorrow to the listening ground:  
It seemed to be the seat of pensive care,  
Of melancholy, and of grim despair.  
There mourning sate the harmless Turtle Dove,  
And sung sad Dirges on her lifelesse Love:  
And sweet-tongu'd Casta, pretty Philomel,  
In mourning lays, Tereus foul lust did tell,  
And in sweet strains though sadly did relate  
Her sad disasters, and most cruel Rape.  
Here did I find that I was gone astray,  
And that unwitting I had lost my way;  
Then solid care and passion did possess  
My wearied thoughts; since that no redress  
I could rescounter, for that spacious Field  
No guide, no shepherd, not a man did yield:  
Nor this alone my vexed mind did trouble,  
The craggy ways my cares did likewise double.  
The Continent it was to me unknown,  
Nor no address could unto me be shown;  
Which forced me wander, till at length I found  
myself quiter lost, I erring in that ground,  
Then being straightened, finding no relief,  
The uncouthnesse I did exceed with grief,  
'Twixt fear and hope, I there did musing stand,  
And with my heavy eyes beholded the Land,  
And here, and there, and every where I spy  
To ease my heart; at length my curious eye  
The Heavens being faire, discerned a distance off  
From forth a Grove, the smoke ascend a loffe,  
So by that sign I did conjecture then,  
That in that place I should rescounter men.  
This hope revived me, and then wearied I  
'Gan trace the path which to the Grove might lie,  
And through the thickest of the Wood with speed  
I did direct my almost tired stead,  
But as I traversed through the Wood, to find  
Some quiet harbour to relieve my mind,  
The pathlesse passage I so tedious found,  
That I repented that myself I'd bound  
To enterprise it; for the raged shrubs  
O're-threw my stead, and dashed me 'gainst the stubs:  
The catching, scratching thorny briars then  
Entangled me as they had angry been.  
Th'untrodden paths with them did eke conspire,  
And tripped me up, and laid me in the mire;  
When strait recov'ring, I re-falling found  
There was no pitty in that desert ground:  
And thus perplex't I did not onely grieve,  
For I did wish that Fate an end would give  
Unto my travels, and so wishing I  
unto my wished for end a place did hye:  
For though my fortunes had me strangely crest,  
That by despair myself was well-nigh lost,  
I onward went, I would not quench the fire  
That Hope had kindled, with my friend Desire.  
I still did journey, but about the time  
That golden Phoebus in the West doth shine,  
I gained a Hill, from whence I might descry  
With ease the place, from whence the smoke did fly,  
It was a Mansion, which Report did tell,  
belonged unto a man that there did dwell,  
Who by his Birth was Gentle, and his famed  
unto the World did testify the same:  
This fabric he of late caused to be built,  
Yet was the Front-piece not like others, gilded;  
There were no Pillars hewed by curious Art,  
Nor did the Marble-stones there bear a part:  
No open walks, no Arched Galleries,  
As any past, with prospect pleased their eyes,  
But sable black did onely make the show,  
For as dark Night it seemed from top to to:  
Which when I saw, it did me so affright,  
That I abashed, stood at that black sight,  
And there my wondering thoughts with rests desire,  
Of all my former griefs did quench the fire.  
But drawing nigher, Fate did me conduct  
Hard by a place, and as my Fortunes luckt,  
Where men were walking, 'twas; who when I found  
Their sad aspects, and their lamenting sound,  
Their mourning habits, and their sorrowing hearts  
Did testify, that they did act their parts  
In some sad scene: for by their outward show,  
As men possessed with grief, they all did go:  
But one amongst the rest, who foremost went,  
Whose sorrowing sighs and groans the air did rent,  
Who with sad grief bewailing spent the day,  
Him did the rest as Lord and Sir obey.  
And howbeit, that care had quiter and clean  
dried up those Ruby streams, the which were seen  
His manly face to stain; and though the Rose,  
In striving with the lily, there did lose,  
Her blushing Colour: yet, I pitying, say,  
His gentle virtues still did bear their sway;  
Nor did his, Face, that likened Cinthias wain,  
unto his Noble parts prove any stain:  
And well he shew'd it; for he no sooner spied  
My wearied self, brought there by Fortunes guide,  
But did me friendly greet, although that he  
astonished was, my wondering self to see;  
But that past o'er, and by his courteous show  
He did declare, that Roses do not grow  
On raggy Thistles: for, oh, Noble he,  
For to descend my Horse entreated me:  
And then the passage of my travels past  
He having heard, himself did cause with hast,  
For to provide, that Fatigated I,  
With careless sleep may ease my drowsy eyes:  
Then stretching forth to me his gentle hand,  
He did me bring where his sad house did stand,  
Which with amazement did afresh renew  
My wondering eyes, and my abashed view;  
Which I enforced with heed there to observe  
The special marks that notice did deserve;  
Observing which, unto the Gate we came,  
Where neither Love, nor Fate, or flying famed  
Did carved stand; or could I ought else spy,  
unless 'twere three white scroules on which my eyes  
Did prying glance; and there I reading found  
This sad Inscription, on that Argent ground.  
This is the Mansion  
Of him that living, dyes,  
Though death consent not  
To close up his eyes.  
These Lines I having red deliberately,  
We farther went, and my observing eye  
perceived, that all things in that house so sad,  
Of mourning grief a representment had:  
But though I sadness every where did see,  
At that same time I would not curious bee  
To ask the reason, I omitted it,  
Till I should find the time and place more fit.  
Onward we walked, and so we entered in  
A spacious Hall, where when a while w'had been,  
Ceres and Bacchus, with their plenteous train.  
The Tables decked, and then went out again;  
But long they stayed not, for they ushered in  
Plenty of Viands, which their trains did bring,  
Whereon we fed: then Supper being past,  
The grieving Knight he caused me for to hast  
unto my rest, and this kind he did do,  
Because my travails and my pains he knew:  
Which to refresh most courteously he led  
Me to a Chamber, where a sable bed  
Did stand erected; where when I was brought,  
He sighing left me, asking if that ought  
I wanted; and sadly then retiring,  
At these strange wonders left me there admiring:  
Being alone, the bed it standing nigh,  
Vpon the Swanny down, I down did lie:  
And as I thought my quiet rest to take,  
When silent Night doth suffer few to wake:  
About the hour, when as the watchful cock,  
The nights shrill Bell-man, and the peasants clock,  
Doth give the signal by his early crowing,  
That mid-night's past, the cheerful day is growing.  
I then did hear sad sorrow breath such groans,  
And sob such sighs, and utter forth such moans,  
That the strange noise with wonder did confounded,  
M'amazed sense, but listening then I found  
That 'twas the Knight, with his attendants, who  
Breath forth those groans, and made that strange ado,  
For with sad music they did shrieking plain  
Of their afflictions, and their smarting pain,  
Wailing, their forrowes in nights darkest shade,  
'Cause it to sadness some resemblance had;  
The direful Screetch-Owle, bear with them apart:  
And from her shrieking throat did show her Art,  
In keeping time with their sad strained moans,  
Or echo like, in answering to their groans:  
Hearing this noise, and in the dead of Night,  
I do protest, it did me sore affright:  
And then I wondered more than e're before,  
For strange it seemed to hear them so deplore:  
Imagination seized on sleep, caused Morpheus fly,  
And wiped his Leaden slumbers from my eyes,  
And did unlose those silken bands, wherein  
The drowsy god had chained my eye-lids in:  
For those sad tones, the which I heard that Night,  
Refreshing sleep did from my pores affright,  
That I lay pausing in my naked bed;  
Whilst thousand thoughts did traverse through my head,  
But true report hath since informed me,  
That every night the Knight did usually  
Renew with passion his lamenting moans,  
Tort'ring his heart with endless sighs and groans▪  
Which moov'd his servants to deplore his Fate,  
And to bewail his sad afflicted state:  
For love and pitty did them jointly bind,  
To be conformed to his grieved mind:  
Who now will doubt but that disturbed I,  
Lay fraught with wonder, since their piteous cry  
Chast sleep away: for with their tears they past  
The nights sad houres, grieving whilst they last:  
But when the East 'gan rest himself with gray,  
Which is the ensuing of a golden day,  
All was in silence hushed, they did lay by  
Their doleful tones, and their distracted cries.  
Rose-cheek'd Anrora, usher to the day,  
Had now withdrawn Nights curtains, called away  
Gold-glistering Titan, from faire Tethis bed:  
( To whose embraces he was lately fled)  
Which when he heard, with speed and hast he hied  
unto his Chariot, which he there espied:  
Then mounting up his bright refulgent beams,  
Guilded the mountaines, and the silyer streams:  
When stately riding through the crystal sky,  
Vested in Gold, from forth a Church hard by  
I heard a Saints-bell sound, whose Tones did call  
The circumjacent dwellers( great and small)  
unto that Service, which is styled the mass,  
Or matins either:( well we'll let that pass,  
And to the purpose) then I did espy  
My Noble Host, the Knight, with weeping eyes  
Enter my Chamber, where he did express  
The self same Honour and true nobleness,  
Which he vouchsafed me, the last passed Night,  
When Fortune brought me to his courteous sight:  
For friendly grasping of my hand, he led  
Me to the place where Service then was red:  
Where when arrived, my over-curious eye  
Roving about, I chanced for to espy  
A Monument, with sable black be-deck'd,  
Which sorrowing grief had caused the Knight erect:  
And as I since have heard, he doth intend  
Therein to rest, when Death shall give an end  
To all his cares: observing it I found  
This sad Inscription which engraved was round,  
See here the Memory  
Of one that grieves with pain,  
Since tha the sight of him nor her  
With ease he cannot gain,  
Although the mass, a Service that's divine,  
Was celebrated at that present time,  
Which claimed attention with a due respect,  
Yet mass and Service did I then neglect,  
And there my thoughts, which should have been divine  
Did poise the meaning of each several Line:  
And having poised them, yet I did not spare  
To note the sorrow that they did declare.  
Yet though I those things saw, I troubled was,  
Since of th' effects I could not judge the cause.  
But then from Church, Service being done,  
We homeward went, where when that we were come,  
Wee free-fac'd Plenty found, who from her store  
Had spread the Table with the Cates all-o're,  
Then down we sate, refresh't our appetite;  
And dinner past, the sad lamenting Knight  
Striving to glad me with some recreation,  
The which might keep me in some agitation;  
He 'gan discourse, and in's discourse did show  
That he the King and queen full well did know,  
Requiring me most friendly to relate  
If they attended were with Courtlike state,  
honoured and served with true magnificence  
As did belong unto their Excellence:  
These his demands I well could satisfy,  
But let them pass, for with my judging eye  
I did perceive that he discourse did frame,  
Me for to pleasure and to entertain:  
Not from desire that he had to know,  
How it with King or queen or Court did go:  
And this I judged because he was so sad,  
For he his sorrow always present had;  
For, for the most part he both sighed and sorrow'd,  
But sometimes listening, then a smile he borrowed;  
And so concluding he me to requited,  
Did render thankes, and this he did recite:  
Know worthy friend, that not without good reason  
Our past discourse was framed, nor out of season:  
For I to thee the true effects will show,  
To find the Spring from whence my tears do flow,  
Provided this, that you me pledge do give,  
That you'll not fail, nay, by the faith you live,  
To publish all that my sad tongue shall tell  
To virtuous Ladies, who with wit as well  
As modesty are graced, oh let such know,  
How one doth cause me suffer smart and woe  
Without just cause, how her obdurate mind  
No tears will soften, no entreats make kind:  
That from her sex she varies, and despite  
Their sweet conditions which do men delight:  
Shee tyrannizes, and to vanquished me,  
Shee is more cruel than man to man would be.  
Report this to them, and with grief declare  
This sorrowing Note unto their gentle ears,  
That they advertised may her folly blame,  
And of her cruelty with me complain.  
" And now ye Ladies, Angels by your hues,  
" I am oblie'gd to tender to your views  
" This following work, the which I heard at large;  
" Nor will I fail to execute my charge,  
" Since ye by right may claim't; and 'tis most fit  
" That to your censures I should tender it.  

Translator to the Ladies.  
OH that my Tongue were now with Silver tip't,  
Since to ye Ladies I must sing with it:  
Nay, I could wish the concave of my throat  
Were lined with brass, since that I the note  
Of the sad Knight must sound unto your ears,  
And with my Verse express his mourning tears,  
Oh! could I gain but little Philomel,  
Phoebus sweet bide, within my breast to dwell,  
That she might teach me how to warble forth  
A mourning Ditty, for I now am loathe  
To venture on this following work: for why,  
I am unskilled, nor e're could versify.  
And then again, I did it enterprise,  
Ere I did find that it unto your eyes  
Should be presented: had it been to men,  
I'd not have cared, if they had censured them:  
But's to your honoured sex, you'll judge aright,  
And on my faults your sweet eyes soon will light:  
But pass them Ladies, when ye them spy,  
Not on my faults, on me reflect your eyes:  
And pardon Ladies, if my Muse affords  
No pleasing strains, or if my ill placed words  
express no sweetness, or my halting Verse  
do not run currant; for I ne're conversed  
With the Nine Muses, never did I climb  
Pernassus top, my wits for to sublime;  
Helicons sweet water I did never taste,  
But if I drank't, it was upon the waste:  
Ambrosia, Nectar never did I touch,  
Then of my rudeness censure not too much.  
But stay my Muse, if you this course do keep,  
You'll run astray, and I be forced to seek  
A new my Subject: then let's not digress  
From our intended purpose, but rehearse  
The Knights sad words. Oh neither let my tongue  
Injure Arnalte, or the author wrong.   

The Knight to the Traveller.  
SIR, I do think that I should injure thee  
Beyond all Reason, in a high degree,  
If I should fail those secrets to unshrowd,  
Which now are veiled under silence Cloud:  
Or to declare of my demands the cause,  
With their effects, and what the reason was  
That moved me to them; for it's not of late  
That I the King and queen, their Princely state  
Have truly known; for by their high renown,  
Their virtuous goodness which their acts do crown,  
Their fames divulged, the world enough doth know,  
Their honoured worths; but for your pains I owe  
Some kind requital, since you have declared  
All what you knew, and thereof nothing spared:  
My thankes I'll tender for to gratify  
In some respects thy noble courtesy.  
But other reasons moved me to demand  
Those feigned questions, and my speech was framed  
Unto another end; for I mean t'impart  
The grieving passions of my sorrowing heart  
Unto thyself, and so confer on thee  
The Treasureship of all my miseries:  
For I believe thou wilt vouchsafe to rest  
Some sort of pitty in thy manly breast,  
Which will incite thee to bewail my Fate,  
And the oppressions of my wretched state '  
Causing thee harbour in thy solid brain,  
What I recount, that so you may proclaim  
In future times the sum of all my grief,  
And how I live stil hopeless of relief.  
Attend me then with silence, but first know  
I thankes to Thebes for my nurture owe,  
For that's my Nation, which Agenors son,  
Cadmus did build, when as he durst not turn  
back to his Father, 'cause he could not gain  
His dear Europa, whom great Jove had ta'en.  
With this same Cadmus, the Boeotian King,  
I for a long time nourished have been,  
And eke a long time's past, since unkind Death  
deprived my Father of his vital breath,  
Whose honoured self was named as I, Arnalte:  
But I'll refrain to certify unto thee  
What that he was; for it will ill become  
Me for to praise him, since I am his son.  
In these past dayes King Cadmus kept his Court  
Within faire Thebes, and his chief'st resort  
Was oftenest thither; for which reason, I  
Did there reside, and live most constantly;  
Following my study, mixed with recreation,  
Sometimes with sport, sometimes in contemplation,  
void of all care I lived, my Heart was free,  
From lovesick passions, or his tyranny:  
Whilst thus I lived, in hight of perfect bliss,  
unconstant Fortune( who e're whirling is)  
Cast me from forth the seat of mans chief hap,  
And flung me head long in Pandoreas lap;  
For one a day, when as myself I found  
Quiet in mind, and eke in all parts sound,  
Free from disturbance of unquiet cares,  
Or pensive thoughts, commixed with palid fears,  
An eminent man, in Thebes City known:  
For famed his worth on her shrill trump had blown;  
yielded himself unto pale ashie death;  
Who Victor-like exhaled his fainting breath:  
unto whose fun'rall Rites and Obsequies,  
The stately Courtier and the Burgeous hies,  
And divers others, who did all intend  
To grace the body of their deceased friend,  
Whose life-lesse Corps with many watrey eyes  
Was brought to Church in a most solemn wise:  
Where when arrived, it in the midst was placed,  
During sueh time the Ceremonies last:  
And there abode, whilst that with weeping eyes,  
His nighest kin the Rites did solemnize:  
chiefly his Daughter; who, alas did seem  
Like faire faced Venus, Loves celestial queen,  
When shee wore mourning for the timeless death  
Of sweet Adonis, wonder of the earth:  
For shee with shrieks, and sad lamenting cries,  
Distil'd salt tears, which flowed from her eyes,  
In that abundant manner, as if all  
The rainy showers had been forced to fall,  
Trickling along her cheeks, which to my view  
seemed like transparent drops of Pearly due  
On fragrant Roses, e're the bright-fac'd sun  
Had kist them dry: tears did not only run  
From her bright crystal fountains, for she tare  
Her silken Vestments, and her flaxe-like hair:  
The cypress vail, which her faire face did shrowd,  
Like golden Phoebus in a watery Cloud,  
Shee rent in pieces, with her snow-white bands  
dishevelled her curious breded bands,  
The winds enamoured, ravished with delight  
At the faire prospect of so rich a sight,  
Breath forth their milder gales and gently blew  
Their fanning winds, by which her bright hair flew  
In amorous dangling, frisling her faire tresses,  
Which in Meanders hung, and curled esses:  
And like the surges of the rolling main  
They rise and fall, or as upon some plain,  
Wee see the pretty rising Hillocks stand,  
Or as the furrows of the ploughed up Land;  
These Sunne-like Tresses twined in artless knots,  
Where in close ambush wanton Cupid lurks,  
Shee did unroote without the least respite,  
She waged a war, maintained a deadly fight,  
'Twixt her faire Hands, and those dishevelled hairs,  
Which without pitty from her Head she tears;  
And they not able to with-stand her might,  
o'ercome in battle, trembling took their flight  
In scattered troops, and some quiter dead did lie  
On her spread shoulders, obvious to the eye  
Of the beholders; in that piteous hue,  
That those that did this cruel conflict view,  
At their rare beauty did not onely wonder,  
But grieved to see them severed so asunder,  
pitying their usage, and their ruined state,  
Seeking to save them, though, alas, too late:  
o'ercome with passion, and distracting woe,  
half mad with sorrow; she, oh she did throw  
Her tender body on the senseless ground,  
And there lay grov'ling with her tears e'en drowned▪  
Her acclamations mixed with grievous groans,  
Her sighs, her sobs, her sad lamenting moans  
Were powred forth, in that distracted wise,  
That all who saw her jointly sympathiz'd  
With her in sorrow; some bewailed her Fate,  
Others her loss, the rest compassionate:  
Those out-rages, the which she did inflict  
On her faire self; alas, she did commit  
Such cruelty, that pitty moov'd all those  
That were spectators of her grievous woes,  
To have a feeling of her inward smart,  
Whose cruel tortures did infest her heart:  
For every one did tax this Virgins Fate,  
And her sad sorrows caused them Lachrymate:  
Since in her passions she was so extreme,  
For to her grief she limited no mean;  
Which so surprest her, that she seemed ro bee  
The very abstract of calamity.  
But now, alas! she of whom I speak,  
Whose sad Remembrance makes my heart to break;  
Oh shee it is! yea, she that bears the name  
Of faire Lucenda! my e're honoured Dame.  
Then list while, and my sad tongue shall tell,  
How she in worth all others doth excel:  
Ile thus describe her in each several eye:  
A Cupid sits enthroned with Majesty,  
virtue attends her, modesty doth grace  
The Rose-like blushes of her lovely face:  
Her pure complexion doth surpass the snow,  
And stains the lilies in their milk-white show:  
The pleasing Grace, which makes her lovely seem,  
May claim precedence of the Paphian queen:  
Like polished Ivory doth her fore-head shine;  
Her soft silk Tresses in Meanders twine;  
And are so bright, that Phoebus he doth shrowded,  
If her he spies, his face behind a Cloud:  
As sparkling Diamonds shine her splendent eyes,  
Or as bright stars, which twinkle in the skies,  
Whose radiant beams do such a lustre dart,  
That with a flash they have consumed my heart:  
Her nose's well featured, of the handsom'st mould,  
Not long, or peaked, signs that grace a scold:  
Her cheeks resemble two fresh flowery banks,  
Where bright Carnatious grow in dispersed ranks;  
And in those cheeks the read and whit discloses  
Such pleasing glimpse, as lawn o'er spreading Roses:  
Her Lips like Rubies, which by Art are joined,  
do sweetly close, and friendly are combined;  
And for their colour, they by far exceed  
The Rosiate blood, which purple Grapes do bleed;  
Who when they move, they presently do show  
Of Orient pearls, a well-ranged row:  
Her Organ-voyce it may parallel  
The sweete-tun'd notes of pretty Philomel;  
Nay, far surpass, the spheres it may exceed,  
For if she sing her tones do raptures breed:  
Her breath so fragrant, that it doth surscent  
Th' Arabian Spices, those from India sent:  
A lovely Dimple setteth forth her Chin,  
And wanton Cupid plays bo-peepe therein:  
A snow-white neck supporteth eke her head,  
And from that neck two faire large shoulders spread:  
Her Virgin bosom branched with swelling veins,  
Distil'd from Heaven in Aprilian rains;  
Whose azured die doth stain the Saphiers hue,  
And make 'em yield that they are not so blew;  
bears two white hills, whose whiteness may compare  
With snow, or down, the which the Swan doth wear;  
Soft as white wool, or as the airy bed,  
Whereon queen juno lost her maiden-head;  
Vpon whose tops, two pretty Arbours stand,  
composed of Roses, framed by Natures hand:  
Betwixt those Hills a pleasant Vale doth lie,  
And 't's consecrated to Loves Deity;  
Much like unto that shady Grove 'tis seated,  
Where faire Idalia her Adonis treated  
For to embrace her, whilst the unkind Lad  
Reject her suite, and left her vexing sad.  
Her hands and arms, they like unto the rest,  
Are well proportioned, and for to be prest  
Within their folds there is no greater bliss:  
Oh were't my hap that I may purchase this!  
For other parts, the which I do not know,  
I will not mention, lest I speak too low:  
There's onely this, as there are several graces,  
In several limbs they have their several places;  
And this I'll say, and speak it evermore,  
Nature in her hath laid up all her store.  
Nor is this all, it's but the Cabinet  
Wherein a gem of greater worth is kept;  
A soul unspotted, free from vulgar stain,  
Immaculate, an honourable Name:  
A gentle heart, a truely-noble mind,  
Not proud, but humble, very courteous, kind;  
Rich in good thoughts, of virtues having store,  
Judicious, witty, but in vices poor.  
In brief, to praise her goes beyond my skill,  
'Twould fit a pencil, or some Poets quill.  
But to the purpose; I was sore agash't  
At this rare Lady, whose strange acts abashed,  
M'admiring self possessed with sudden fear,  
For I did doubt that she would lend an ear  
Unto th'alurements of despair; for why,  
Shee did afflict herself most cruelly,  
And wonder rapt me with amazement, when  
I had the prospect of so rich a gem,  
Being so perfect in each linament,  
That like an angel from Joves Palace sent,  
Shee did appear unto my trembling view,  
So faire, so bright, so glorious was her hue.  
The Corps being laid with order in his tomb,  
And publicly before the world inhum'd,  
Lucenda thence did wailing home return;  
And I likewise, who then began to burn  
With new-felt Fire, whose tormenting flamme  
tortured my heart with an unusual pain.  
Thus being wounded with Loves fiery Dart,  
I did endeavour to recure my heart:  
Which to effect, the Groves I did frequent,  
The Woods, the Fields, that so I might prevent  
Love of his purpose; but in vain the fields,  
Or silent Woods, no comfort to me yield;  
Though solitude I did accompany,  
No ease I gained, no help, no remedy:  
'Twas labour lost, the place affords no ease,  
I still was tortured with my strange disease,  
And well I knew incontinent I found  
That solitude did not alone abound:  
Nor get that hope at random from me sped;  
But that all solace from my heart was fled.  
The twice Twelve Sisters clad in black and white:  
The Day attending, and the darksome Night,  
Their charge observing, suffered for to pass,  
Thus many a day that runned through their glass;  
Whilst I endeavoured for to entertain  
Dreaming Oblivion, and to sleep my brain  
In Lethean water, that I might forget  
The fixed Resolves whereon my mind was set:  
For since my entrance I so prickly found,  
So cruel, cragged, and such thorny ground,  
I knew the issue would more tedious be,  
And far more rugged unto lovesick me.  
Yet this availed not, albeit time did hast  
With flying wings; nor would a minute waste,  
The more he flew, the more my pains drew nigh,  
In whose hot flames my wounded heart did fry:  
'Twas water thrown with Smiths upon the fire,  
Which doth not quench, but makes it flamme the higher  
For as my griefs increase and multiply,  
With winged speed my helps from me did fly:  
Thus in a Lab'rinth I was strangely got,  
And there I wandered, having not the knot  
To re-conduct me forth, I seeking, stray  
In untrod paths, I found no ready way.  
Ten thousand thoughts lay hamm'ring in my brains,  
Who forged out means how to assuage my pains.  
But proved so brittle, that they did not hold  
Whilst I assayed them; thus my hopes grew could  
For want of succour, and most wretched I  
endured much anguish, then necessity,  
The sly Inventor of unheard of facts,  
Th'accomplisher of more than common acts,  
By her sage counsel shew'd me by what ways  
I might released be from this strange maize;  
And thus advised me, that I by a page.  
Who waited on me in his equipage,  
And to Lucendas house did oft resort,  
Her Brother to associate and disport,  
Might certify, I having the fit means  
To faire Lucenda,( whose transpiercing beams  
inflamed my heart) the passion that I felt  
For her sweet self, though I did often melt  
To brackish tears, and from my eyes did flow  
Such rivulets as might an Ocean grow.  
My thoughts thus having prompt me, I'gan spy  
In every place for opportunity:  
T'obviate which I did encharge my page.  
For to frequent more oft, and to engage  
himself more dearly to Lucendas Brother,  
Yet on his life m'intents not to discover.  
This his imposed charge he modestly  
Did execute, with speed sought remedy  
In such a wise, that he went in and out  
My Ladies Mansion, none did him mis-doubt;  
And having divers times him well advised  
For to be secret, and unto his eyes  
Presented divers chastisements, if he  
Unto my secrets should disloyal be;  
Gave him a Letter, the which did contain  
These following Lines written with great pain.   

Arnaltes Letter to Lucenda▪  

THou matchless piece of worth, the Worlds chief treasure▪  
On whose faire fore-head sits a world of pleasure,  
Natures sole Darling, and my souls delight;  
Fairer than Venus, than the sun more bright:  
For why thy Beauty doth by far out-ray  
Th' Orient brightness of a Sun-shine day:  
If that my fortunes so propitious were  
To my desires, as you are Phoenix rare;  
I'd rather wish that you were certified  
Of my pure Love, purer than Gold though tried,  
Or that my Faith and constant Loyalty  
Were but perspicuous to your glorious eye,  
Then that you should vouchsafe to red my Lines,  
Th'Interpreters of my enforced designs:  
Had I this favour,( fairest) were it so,  
Observing me, you easily might know  
The passion that I suffer; which is such,  
And so out-raging, vexing me so much,  
That 'twould be able freely to obtain,  
That which I hoped by Writing for to gain:  
For by missive you can onely know  
My grieving ends, but then my tears would show  
The desp'rate state wherein afflicted I,  
do pass my dayes in endless misery.  
My heaped griefs would likewise then supply  
My failing words, and to you testify  
The truth of that which now yourself may doubt;  
And from your breast, distrust they'd banish out.  
For though th' afflictions Fortune hath not spared  
To let me suffer, cannot be declared,  
Yet through my pain your Iudgment would conceive  
The very truth, the reason why I grieve:  
Now since such hap, my hap doth not possess,  
I'll force my Lines my sorrows to express.  
Know, faire Lucenda, since that very day,  
Your honoured Father was involved in day,  
Your more than mortal grace, and my affection  
captived my heart, enthralled me to subjection▪  
Your shining living lamps, whose glorious light  
Transcend the stars, that wait on Cinthia bright,  
Directed me at that same present time,  
To offer to thyself( who seemed divine)  
My life, my service, and I vowed to be  
A faithful Servant unto honoured thee:  
Whilst thus I gazed at thy most rare beauty,  
The Priests had done unto the Corpes their duty,  
And your faire self did homeward then repair:  
Whence fleeting time did all your sorrows bear;  
For, for to grieve you found it was in vain,  
Sith your lost Father tears could not regain:  
You being gone, I likewise homeward went,  
Where when arrived, I inwardly did scent  
A strange disturbance, all my spirits quak't,  
My vitals trembled, Ague-like I shaked:  
My blood ran boiling in my veins, my heart  
Lay panting, throb'd with anxious smart:  
And I bewailed the cruel smarting pain,  
Which I do suffer from that secret flamme  
Which love hath kindled, dazzling in your eyes,  
Whose radiant beams with torments me surprised.  
sweet I beseech thee credit this; believe,  
That for thyself I do both pine and grieve,  
For I'm so strongly fettered in Loves band,  
That nought can free me ' less thou lend a hand▪  
Being as feeble my passions to o're-sway,  
As you have force, t'enforce my heart obey:  
More o'er, I thee assure, that want of power  
More than my own free-will caused me yield o'er  
My thralled self, and tender to thy shrine  
My vows, my life, and thus vel nile am thine.  
Had I the means, or were I helped by might,  
Then from thy face I strait would take my flight:  
But spite my will, perforce I am constrained  
To seek thee out by whom my heart is pained:  
Nor from your beauty( fairest) can I fly,  
Since in my thraldom doth my freedom lie:  
For over me you sway so strong a hand,  
And o'er myself I have so small command,  
That if I purpose( Lady) not to love thee,  
I am not able, your Graces do so move me:  
For why, alas, my wounded sorrowing heart  
〈◇〉 through thy virtues, my love bearing part:  
So firmly knit, and linked with Loves strong band  
To thy sweet self, that nought can it dis-band.  
Thus let these Lines( sweet Mistris) certify,  
If that I'd had the possibility.  
Rather than that I would have hoped in vain,  
For help of thee, by whom my heart's nigh slain;  
I'd thee have banished from my quiet mind,  
Nor thee have suffered harbour there to find  
But Fate has order't, and I am condemned  
By Destiny, to be thy truest friend:  
Or have I had the means to avoid the ill  
Of this good hap, which thus remain must still:  
Protract not now thy comfort, but with speed,  
St●nch thou those wounds that in my heart do bleed:  
heal me, for why, I suffer cruel smart  
From thy bright eyes, which have transpierc'd my heart:  
Deny me not thy gracious favour then,  
But by thy smiles glad me 'bove other men:  
For by the greatness of my suffering pain,  
I do deserve these favours to obtain;  
And since in so few dayes thy Sunne-like eyes  
Have out-ray'd me in a most cruel wise:  
Consider in what an Obligation you  
Are reduable, and to me 'tis due:  
Since I had rather lose myself for thee,  
Than to be saved, unless thy means it be:  
And sith thou art the cause of my torment,  
The pain is pleasing, and gives me content,  
And my destruction, for thy sake do I,  
Though with great loss, esteem it victory.  
Then sweet assist me, let me not despair,  
Cherish th'affection, which to thee I bear:  
Although ay yet no recompense I crave,  
For I do hope, when you shall knowledge have  
Of the estate, wherein I loving live,  
That then your notice will you freedom give  
To loose the reins to reason, which you'll find  
Not to be absent, gracing of your mind:  
And whereas reason's present, there'l not want  
A large reward, for it will kindness grant:  
Now with this hope I strait ways will expel  
unquiet thoughts; despair shall never dwell  
Within my breast; but since disposed I am,  
Rather to suffer my afflicting pain,  
Than to petition, or to intercede  
For thy assistance, I will cease to pled  
To gain thy favour, 'cause Ile give an end  
To this my missive, which I now do sand:  
Onely vouchsafe my teare-drown'd face to see,  
That of my griefs it may a testate be:  
For why, dear love, a lovers pleading eyes  
May more express, than Letters can comprise.   

Thus was my Letter finished, yet friend know,  
E're I give order that my page. should go  
For to deliver't to the milk white hand  
Of her, at whom all eyes amazed stand:  
I did instruct him in what manner he  
Ought to proceed, and careful for to be;  
Wisely to choose the place, and time most fit,  
To tender to her view what I had writ:  
That if perhaps Lucenda should refuse  
For to receive it, then she might not choose:  
These my commands unto th'obsequious will  
Of my observing page., were pleasing still:  
For by his actions he did still express  
His love and care to gain me some redress,  
Daily endeavouring to relieve me, he  
At length had spied her all alone to be;  
Then taking hold of opportunity,  
He there entreated her as covertly  
As possibly he might, that she'd vouchsafe  
T' accept my Lines, to deign me so much grace;  
How she did like of this Discourse so strange,  
Shee made expression by her colours change:  
Nor could she so dissemble, or disguise  
Her inward thoughts, but by her blushing eyes  
She did reveal them; for we oft descry  
By outward symptoms what doth inward lie.  
Yet ne're the less my page., as well advised,  
Weighing the pain I suffered from her eyes,  
At nought did marvel, but did still entreat  
Her gracious pitty to assuage my heat:  
But she, alas, did no attention lend  
To his entreats, nor yet her favour sand;  
For seeing that she still was importuned,  
That on her patience he too far presumed,  
Thinking to free herself, she forthwith went  
From her soft resting seat with discontent.  
Which when my page. perceived, he suddenly,  
With large stepped paces after her did hye,  
And swiftly speeding, he her over-tooke,  
Then threw my Letter where she needs must look,  
Which fell so fairly, that necessity  
enforced her will thereon to cast her eye,  
And take it up, but with such entertain,  
That it a thousand rents did strait ways gain:  
Which spiteful act did re-assault my heart,  
With a strong troope of more than killing smarts.  
For when I saw my hopes thus blasted, and  
My griefs still crescent, I had no command  
o'er my sad soul; a death-resembling could  
possessed my spirits, and my hopes controlled:  
Which deep distemper of my wounded breast  
Did so torment me, that it did express  
Me more than wretched: thus I still endured  
Heart-burning tortures, hopeless to be cured,  
unless pale Death should penetrate my heart  
With the sharp edge of his all-killing Dart.  
Thus fraught with passion and distracting care,  
O're-come with grief, poss'est with grim despair,  
Unto myself I grew so strange a foe,  
And such a friend unto my smarting woe,  
That I embraced it with a great delight,  
And entertained it daily in my sight.  
For if for refuge or some help I sought,  
I had recourse unto my sorrowing thoughts:  
And like sad Philomel in mourning lays,  
I warbling, grieving spent full many dayes;  
until a morning which with ruddy look,  
Did drive dim mists from off the silver brooks,  
And that Aurora clad in Purple gay,  
Had chased black Night, and brought on cheerful Day,  
Or that bright Titan in the eastern streams  
Began to bathe his fiery-flaming beams;  
For then my page. who still was circumspectly,  
And took great heed m'affaires not to neglect,  
Came in and  told me how Lucenda, she  
The following night resolved for to be  
At divine service; this then straightways past  
For truth unto my breast, since th'Eve it was  
Of Christ his mass:( Oh ever honoured time,  
Too great a Subject for my lovesick rhyme)  
Having heard this, I strait ways summoned in  
My Wits to counsel what I should begin.  
Then for to ease my sad afflicted heart,  
I did intend a new projected part;  
Which to accomplish I resolved, disguised  
In Ladies habit for to blind the eyes  
Of sly suspicion; so for to draw near  
My honoured Lady, sitting voided of fear,  
Hoping by that fine slight for to prevent  
The babbling tongue of dangers utterment;  
Then being accoutr'd every way complete,  
Vested like her I went, and took my seat  
Nigh to the place whereas she used to be  
At any time of high solemnity;  
And she not doubting of my cunning plot,  
( For so disguised alack she knew me not)  
At her arrival, though her tongue were mute,  
With courtesy she did me then salute.  
Nights Negro queen, having the earth o'erspread  
With her black vail, and in bright Phoebus stead,  
Pale Luna shining with her spangl'd train,  
Whose glimmering lights did dart a twinkling flamme:  
I found occasion since the silent Night,  
Th'obscure place( which might some others fright)  
Propitious proved, these words for to declare  
Unto Lucenda in perfections rare.    

Arnalte to Lucenda being disguised.  
REnowned Lady, famous by the Name  
Of faire Lucenda, which you truly claim;  
Had I th' elixir of all human wit,  
Or were my tongue with Gold or Silver tipped:  
Were I composed of rhetoric, could my words  
Sound forth more sweetness than the true accords  
Of Lutes, or Harps, or might my Genius claim  
Precedency of smooth'd-tongu'd Tullies famed,  
Yet were my words too mean I must confess,  
For your attention, sweetest I profess;  
Not able for to counterpoise the grace  
Which doth adorn your angelic face!  
For these same Reasons let me( Sweet) entreat  
Thee not to heed what that my tongue shall speak;  
For had I( Fairest) but such skill to plain  
Of thy unkindness, a t' hast might to pain  
My yielding heart, I'd justly then declare  
myself as learned as y'are beauteous faire:  
But mark the passions of my wounded heart,  
Th'abundance of my sighs, whose cruel smart  
At this same instant I present to thee;  
That of my pain they may affirmers be.  
I do not know what gain you hope to get  
Out of my loss, what good you do expect  
From my ill hap, for I have let you know  
By my sad Lines, that I my life do owe  
unto thee Lady by my misery,  
expressed myself sole yours until I die:  
Yet armed with rage, dispightfully you tor'd  
My sad Epistle, wherein I implored  
Thee to release me from that anxious pain  
Which thou hast caused me( Fairest) to sustain.  
You ought t'have given leave unto my Lines  
T'have done their message, by which my designs  
You might have known, and how in passions I  
Have ever lived, since first of thee my eye  
( Guided by Fate) so faire a prospect gained,  
That to thyself I find my heart enchain'd:  
Persevere not I pray so vehemently,  
Nor be not thus resolved; alas for why?  
The cloudy mists of base report will stain  
The lively gloss of your renowned famed▪  
Nor will your famed alone endamaged be,  
For I shall suffer through your tyranny,  
And lose a gem prized beyond all wealth,  
( Mans chiefest hap) the enjoyment of my health:  
Where wilt thou find excuse, whose force may serve  
Thee to acquit of what thou dost deserve?  
Or warrantise thee too, too cruel action  
Of these strange acts, or their offending fashion.  
Thou hearest the anguish with the which my tongue  
Doth crave redress, for my heart-killing wrong:  
Full well you know that virtues differ far  
From rigorous forces; how in kind they are  
unlike each other, that you cannot be  
virtuous, if cruel; kind, if harsh to me;  
Nor can you( fairest) virtues period gain,  
unless you gracious courtesy retain:  
Then since it in your gracious power doth lie,  
With one poor word fully to satisfy  
And recompense my service, clear the shot  
Of all my pains, the word deny me not;  
For I no greater hap desire to gain,  
Than that by your consent I may proclaim  
myself your servant, for so honoured I  
My ills received from thee may satisfy:  
speak then thou nonesuch of thy sex, for why,  
I'm rapt with wonder, since that thy reply  
Is still protracted; let thy Organ-voyce  
Pronounce some comfort, and my soul rejoice.  
do not consent( dear heart) to suffer me  
With tediousness still to solicit thee:  
Behold my sighs, my tears, how they express  
The weakness of my might, whose edisice  
So slightly's built, and by the combat rude  
Which you deliver, and is still pursued,  
So much is shaken, that's more apt to fall,  
Then prove a fortress to my life in thrall.  
Why standst thou mute, why make you no reply?  
Oh tune thy tongue, whose pleasing melody  
Doth far transcend the sweet harmonious strains  
Of well-touch'd Lutes, composed by musics pains.  
Perhaps you think your answer will defame  
Your reputation, or your honour stain;  
Or else those honey-words the which distil  
From 'twixt your lips, whose Tones with music fill  
My ravished ears, at such a rate you prise,  
That you believe that they will scandalise  
Your spotless credit, should you let them slip  
Into my ears from 'twixt your Rose-leav'd lips:  
If so, take heed lest mastered with conceit,  
yourself you wrong not, or too much forget:  
For certainly 'twill to your shane redound,  
Not to your glory, if you me confounded.  
Oh then Lucenda, do not strive to gain  
Of cruel murdresse the abhorred name;  
do not, I prithee, for so small a price  
Lose thy true servant, and his services:  
What shall I say, what shall I else repeat,  
To make thee certain of my pain most great?  
My tongue wants words my inward griefs to show,  
I want expression to declare my woe.  
Sure I was born not it to certify,  
But to be certain of my misery:  
Having been taught of her to grieve and plain,  
Then to find ease for my afflicting pain.  
Now since my will, and your excelling worth  
Have not an equal measure, none of both,  
Thrice Noble Lady, I'll cease t' importune  
Your honoured self, nor yet with words presume  
You to disquiet; let it then suffice  
That thou hast seen through prospect of thy eyes,  
That if from me expected hope you banish,  
My life will end, which now doth pine and languish,  
Then having scarcely finished these my words,  
With trembling voice this answer she affords.   

Lucenda to Arnalte.  
THou deem'st, Arnalte, by thy cunning shift,  
Thy filled talk, and this thy fancied drift  
T' o'ercome my virtues, and my spotless famed,  
Which would redound unto my utter shane:  
Whioh if you hope to purchase, or inherit,  
As the true crown belonging to your merit,  
In truth you'll fail, for ever to obtain  
What you expect, by this your course so vain.  
For this Ile tell you Sir, you may conceive  
What likes you best, but 'twill in fine deceive  
Yonr expectations; for Sir, know you must  
That in my weak defence as much I trust,  
As you, in your persuasions: therefore fly  
These resolutions, do no more rely  
On thy strange fancies, but henceforth surcease  
From thy demands, and to thyself grant peace:  
This I advice thee, 'cause it will proclaim  
far more your wisdom, than if you maintain  
These fond resolves; for in the least respect,  
You'll ne're accomplish what you do project:  
And that you may, Arnalte be more sure,  
Know of a certain, all the Worlds great power  
Cannot in sunder break the well-bar'd gate  
Of the fixed purpose which I do relate.  
sail by this Land-marke, for it will address  
Thee to the haven of true happiness:  
Though I have daign'd at this same present time  
To answer thee, why it hath onely been  
To this intent, that having no assurance,  
You might not hope, or let your svit of durance:  
Since in these cases it's Speransa's kind,  
Sooner than ease, prolonged delays to find:  
Or if my tongue( too mildred) do not express  
A severe harshness,( for you must confess  
You have deserved it, and should I inflict,  
You cannot tax me, since you merit it)  
In some respects, is for to favourise  
Thy loyalty, observed by my eyes.  
I do not question, or will I deny  
But that you love me, which to testify,  
Thou oftener seekest me than I do desire;  
Yet howsoe'er, thy pains must lose their higher:  
For I pronounce your hope shall so far fly  
As your request and importunity  
Proves tedious to me. I no more will hear  
These irksome treats, which do offend my ear:  
Perhaps 'tmay be, you think, because my words  
Are mildred and pleasing, that my deeds ' l accord  
With them in kindness; being exempted free  
From rigorous strictness, or severity.  
do not still soothe your hopes, I plainly tell,  
If such a thought within your breast doth dwell,  
'Twill not avail you ought. Arnalte know,  
If your insulting love you don't o' rethrow,  
Or else divert its course Ile give it o'er  
Unto some one who shall you not deplore,  
But have the power justly to plain of thee,  
And eke avenge, and wreak this injury.  
For these same reasons, it's my wil'd-desire  
You leave dispute, without delay retire:  
For better 'tis with speed for to apply  
Some saving means, some helping remedy,  
Than by delays protracting, to enforce  
Betwixt the soul and body a divorce:  
This to advertise I did think most fit,  
Since there's more loss than gain for thee in it:  
Yet howsoever this my counsel laud,  
And my well-wishes to the world applaud.  
Be not so rashly bold, to dare to tell,  
That with my speech I have not used you well.  
For I declare, if such discourse you'gin,  
As but to say you have abused been,  
That great ill hap shall surely thee befall,  
Which I will slight, not it regard at all.  
Henceforth you ought your hot desires suppress,  
And curb your will, and to yourself grant peace;  
Which I believe you'll do: for as your eyes,  
drowned up in tears your vow'd-good-will likewise,  
do manifest, and plainly show to me,  
That 'twill more pleasing, and delightful be  
To thee Arnalte, rather to present  
Pleasures unto me, than sad discontent.  
This if you slight, the love which you maintain  
I shall suspect, though you it true proclaim;  
And to yourself it will procure but loss,  
And unto me but angers vexing cross.  
Now to the end that your intents may prove  
yourself as prudent as your sighs you love:  
And that your actions may express you thus,  
To be as wise, as you are amorous:  
I will no more 〈◇〉 untrodden path direct  
W●●● you 〈◇〉 keep yourself for to protect.   

Arnalte to the Traveller.  
THus 〈◇〉 Lucenda's answer( friend) agree  
〈◇〉 correspond unto my misery:  
〈◇〉 with-drew its self from lending aid,  
Although with tears I her most humbly prayed:  
For with dis●aine I was of her rewarded,  
That pitty wept to see me unregarded:  
And by so much my hope did fail and cease,  
By so much more desire did increase,  
For hearing of her sweet mellifluous prate,  
Inrich't with skill, whose tones might decorate  
The heavenly spheres, I found myself bereft  
Of living motion, onely it had left  
My sense alive; for in that ecstasy  
Though rapt I was, yet lived my memory  
The which attended with great heed to pry,  
If it at length some good hap might descry:  
for of her well-tnn'd words it did take note,  
That sweetly warbled from her silver throat.  
But with her threats, her words did jointly end,  
And my reward fast locked, she left behind:  
For to prefer my danger, yet sad I,  
Of any thing, I least did fear to die;  
The which intending she should understand,  
Some dayes being past, the task I took in hand:  
And on a night before her house my tongue  
unto her ears did chant this following Song.   

The Song.  

IF the afflictions which infest my heart  
Must still increase, and gain no final end,  
Can any one conceive the anxious smart,  
Which doth my heart with cruel tortures end?  
Since I still living die, yet cannot gain  
Death's easing help to free me of my pain.   

If all my gain in loss be comprehended,  
And that my passions and heart-throbbing woes  
( Although they are of wretched me be-friended)  
Still prove to be my most invet'rate foes,  
Why do I live, and not implore pale Death  
To end my pains, by stoping of my breath?   

Yet if it seem to your rare self, that I  
Deserve these torments at my proper due,  
Delighting still to be my enemy,  
Who feels such pains as I receive from you?  
For though I living die, I cannot gain  
Deaths easing help, to free me of my pain.   

Perhaps the air of this sad song might keep  
Lucenda waking, drive away her sleep;  
Yet sure I am my plaints and sighing groans  
Could not awake her heart to hear my moans,  
Nor all my vows, protests could her persuade,  
Nor my laments her marble-breast invade.  
Then seeing of myself to be neglected,  
And that my service was of her rejected,  
And that my sorrows over me did sway,  
That I perforce was forced for to obey  
Unto their wills; for as they waxed great,  
My pores did fail, and I grew wondrous weak;  
And eke my hope was troubled in such wise,  
That it did cause my tender weeping eyes  
To rain such showers, that I at length became  
half blind with sorrow, waxing wondrous wane,  
Dissigur'd pale; and this exceeded all,  
I grew so desperate, that I'gan to bawl  
And rail against my wretched self, and say,  
O wretched caitiff, where wou't thou away:  
Stay hapless man, whereto art thou become?  
Or to what place arrived? where wou't thou run?  
Hast thou yet hope, why dost thou not despair?  
Or see you not that from you's banished far  
redress or help? or that's impossible  
To cure thy wounds, or ever make thee well?  
How clearly do these signs to thee presage  
Thy present loss, and future ruinage,  
Since thou hast reared by thy aspiring eye  
Too high the Ladder of thy Loyalty?  
For thou must look to fall thence sooner down,  
Than mount the top, thy wishes there to crown:  
Thou art the man that must more ill endure,  
For thou art he who of no hap art sure;  
Slave to thyself, who dost abhor to live,  
Yet not to wish, for thereto scope you give.  
What luckless Planet reigned at thy Birth?  
What fatal Omen was presaged on earth?  
I do perceive that by degrees you waste,  
And that desire will you o're-come at last.  
Hast not thou then great reason for to crave  
That Death would lay thee in a silent grave?  
Yet though you wished, or that for ease you chus't  
unto your hart, yet ought you to refuse't,  
Thereby to shun the loss thou must sustain,  
And fly perdition which the soul may gain.  
Then out I cried, I have so great a task,  
I know not what to choose, to say, or ask.  
Oh my forsaken soul, why dost possess  
A habitation so full of wretchedness?  
And thou my eye, enemy to my heart,  
immortal foe, why didst thou me convert  
To Cupids Doctrine? Did I e're give cause  
That thou shouldst me submit to loves false laws?  
Thou were't unwitting, his rewards are vain,  
When his employments are too full of pain.  
Yet did you know that he who truly loved,  
If life he kept, from torments never moved.  
Thou knewest th'impuissance: oh to what intent  
didst yield thyself unto his government?  
Reply you may that you had no more power  
To disobey, than I have at this hour  
Will to forget her; what ills are these I see  
That thus afflict, torment, and torture me?  
Oh hapless man! even as thy forces fail,  
So do thy sorrows over thee prevail.  
For at this present by thy acts thou thought'st  
T'enrich thy mind, but thou alas canst nought:  
For which attempt thou wilt receive great shane,  
Thy life's endangered, injured is thy famed:  
For these requitals thou oughtest sooner grieve,  
Than laud her kindness, or her praises give.  
But since it's thus, let patience recompense  
Thy pains, and end the war thou hast commenst,  
And bide the brunts the which thou dost attend,  
For they hereafter will more fury lend.  
Though now th'are easy, very light to bear,  
Yet in the end continuance will out-weare  
Thy soul with grief, and toil thy understanding.  
If this assuage not, or be a disbanding,  
Why summon reason, and appeal if she  
Assist thee not, or else abandons thee.  
bewail thy cares, and ope the gates then wide,  
And welcome death; for at this present tide  
Thou mayst not think to gain the remedy,  
Which sense and reason unto thee deny.    

Arnalte to the Traveller.  
THus to myself I breathed out these laments,  
And many more; but yet their sad relents  
In silence I will bury, lest that I  
sold you offend through their prolixity:  
But being lancht into the Sea of care,  
The Galley of my passions I'gan steer  
And row to Land-ward, but the raging waves  
Of these my torments, like so many graves,  
Were ready still for to devour me  
Up in the bowels of their misery;  
And coupling mischiefs with their rowlings let,  
That I safe harbour in no wise could get:  
Then in that stor●●● I did of Lethe drink,  
That of my used delights I did not think:  
I grew so pensive, and so wondrous sad  
That no delight in any thing I had;  
Sorrow and care they did their service tender,  
And wanton pleasure did her place surrender.  
abstain I did from the sweet company  
Of my familiars, no society  
With my dear friends, did I from that time keep,  
I'd work enough to curse my Fate and weep.  
No where I went, unless sometimes to Court,  
The King to visit,( not myself to sport.)  
But now my friends they had a great desire  
To know the reason why I did retire,  
And daily questioned and enquired to know  
How I did fare; this did enforce me go  
Unto the Court upon an Even-tide,  
And there as soon as that the King me spied▪  
Having betwixt us past a compliment,  
He did invite me to a Tournament,  
Which by some Gallants who did oft resort  
His Grace to visit, some Signiors of the Court  
Was enterprised; and howbeit that I  
Was more addicted to my privacy  
Than to assemblies, yet my will to obey  
I did enforce, and this to him did say,  
That since his Grace vouchsaf't me to command,  
I ready was, nor would his will with-stand.  
Wherefore the King, he certified to me  
The manner of't, the day when it should be:  
The term prefix't, it being well-nigh come,  
That our attempts should truly then be done,  
I did entreat the King for to enjoin  
All the faire Ladies who at that same time  
Were resident in Thebes or the Court,  
For to repair unto the Masking sport,  
As well as to the Tilting, and have sight  
Of the Nights revels as the dayes delight:  
It pleased him well, and I conceived by this,  
Lucenda to invite they would not miss,  
Great trouble then did my sad heart betid,  
My anguishes with sudden hopes were prized;  
And at that instant I was far more glad,  
Than other times I was accounted sad.  
The Lists being reared, and that his royal grace,  
With his faire consort had possessed their place,  
The Combatants, the signal given, 'gin  
To rank themselves, each hoping famed to win;  
When by the Scaffold of the queen I past,  
Checking my barbed stead, who with a grace  
I caused curvete, to mount, to prance, and leap,  
And bravely vault, and such a measure keep,  
That not a Dancer truer steps could trace,  
Though he should traverse, hop, fall back, or chase;  
For like a Kid he wantonly would skip,  
Then like a bark, or else some well-rig'd Ship  
Which rides at Anchor, and doth rolling lie,  
He'd rise and fall, yet onward would not fly:  
He springs, he leaps, then on two feet he stands,  
Then on all four, then spurnes about the sands;  
He neighes, he foams, he puffs, he blows, he sweats,  
And with his hoofes the clayey ground he beats;  
Then round he runs, as he would make a ring  
composed of Horse-shoos; then his heels he flings,  
Which strikes the dirt into the gazers eyes,  
And makes a dust which doth obscure the skies:  
Stocke-still he stands, then suddenly he runs  
With full career, then round about he turns,  
And in his course he suddenly doth stop,  
And gently prancing he doth sideling trote▪  
Thus managing my stead, I suddenly,  
Through visir of my Helmet chanced to spy  
Lucenda's sweet aspect, whose face contains  
All rare perfections, and in her remaines  
Th'abstract of all beauty; oh this sight  
How pleasing was't! how full of sweet delight!  
Yet did I not discover the content  
That I received through fortunes blandishment:  
But hark me friend, and I will now declare,  
And let thee know the emblem that I bear:  
A balance 'twas, a scale of which was green:  
The other black, a set of weights therein:  
The green scale high, the black scale very low,  
And on m'Impressa writ was this Motto.  
How light my hope doth way, you may discern▪  
How heavy sorrow, this to you may learn.  
Through Nights approach the Tourney had an end,  
Each one retires, their courses homeward bend:  
The King, queen, Ladies, they return to Court,  
The Knights dis-arme themselves for other sport:  
The masking hour time doth usher in;  
And then the Maskers they their sport begin:  
Some sit and talk, some others neately trip  
With measured steps, and freely dance and skip,  
With those they will select, but wretched I  
Afresh 'gan grieve, and wail my misery:  
Since that I saw myself to have such store  
Of sighs and sorrows, but in comforts poor:  
Thus e'en o're-whelmed in the sea of grief,  
merely despairing of the least relief,  
I roused my spirits, and I strait ways went  
unto Lucenda, and I did present  
My service to her, treating her to glance  
A gracious look, and deign with me to dance:  
To which she had not willingly con'scended,  
If that the custom had not me befriended:  
Then up she rose, and gave me her faire hand,  
The touch whereof had power to command  
A fleeting soul, to stay his hasty flight,  
Thinking Elysium in her glorious sight:  
Who hath the skill of words for to express  
The joy, sorrow, grief, and happiness  
I jointly did conceive? how each did strive,  
For sometimes dying, I as soon revive:  
Like Tantalus I was afflicted still,  
I saw my helps, but could not have my will,  
Which by the rest I wore, I did express,  
For on my Mancell broyder'd was this Verse,  
The dying man he doth exceed in grief,  
Yet unkind death to kill him doth deny:  
himself he lives not, and for his relief,  
He seeks for death, who from him still doth fly.  
The Dance ended, Lucenda she retires  
So nigh the queen( crossing my desires)  
That 'twas impossible to confer,  
But one or other would us over-heare:  
Wherefore I did resolve for to indite  
A Letter to her, and in black and white  
To give her knowledge of those things, which I  
At that same present could not verbally:  
Then to a Ward-robe I myself with-drew,  
And there afresh my passions 'gan renew:  
For pen and paper I'd no sooner tane,  
But strait I felt my former burning flamme;  
Through heat of which I suffering cruel smart,  
With pain I wrote the torments of my heart.  
Ending my Letter, which in pleats most small  
I folded up, returning therewithal  
Towards Lucenda, slily dropping down  
Into the train of her embroidered gown:  
Yet this I could not act so cunningly,  
But she perceived it with her rolling eye:  
Yet in respect and honour of the queen  
She was constrained to pas't, as if unscene:  
Th'affects of my sad missive Ile repeat,  
And how my Lines in my behalf did treat.   

The Letter.  
HAd I, Lucenda, but such cause to right  
My wronged self, as I have cause to writ;  
doubtless I should myself most happy count,  
And sweet delights my sorrows would surmount.  
But no, alas, all wisdom, wit, or might  
( By being thine) from me have tane their flight,  
And left me guarded with a troope of cares,  
environed round with griefs, and grim despairs:  
So that I doubt I never shall obtain  
Thy gracious favour to assuage my pain:  
My words and lines have so much to thee shown,  
That more to say, it is to me unknown:  
There's onely this, if you my hope delay,  
My speech, my life, they both will soon decay.  
Alas, you may be surer of the ill  
For which I grieve, lament, and mourn still,  
Through my bewailings, or my brinish tears  
Than by my words; for they are mixed with fears:  
For whereas anguish doth o'ercome the heart,  
The eye supplies the tongue, and acts its part:  
Oh wretched man, in that estate I live,  
That to myself I know not what to give:  
For let my faith never so lively be,  
I find reward a sluggard still to me.  
Yet if you think, if that you should vouchsafe  
To grant me peace,( and so my life keep safe)  
You should wage war against your honoured famed;  
far be't from me, I do not thereat aim;  
Desire I do not that you should afford,  
If't be your pleasure, unto me a word:  
Onely vouchsafe on me to cast your eye,  
For it's a kindness which will satisfy,  
And recompense all ills you ever have  
conferred upon me, being of your slave.  
Oh sweet Lucenda cease, give o'er to be  
unto myself so harsh an enemy;  
For if you will that Death an end shall give  
unto my life, I have no mind to live:  
Thus without trouble we may both consent,  
Or much dispute, agree and be content.  
But Sweet consider, if you cause me die,  
You will be branded with base infamy;  
And the report of your ill actions, they  
Will not so lightly cease or fly away,  
So long as time shall last, or fly with wings,  
Or the continuance be of mortal things,  
There will be mention of thy cruelty,  
And of my end, caused through thy tyranny.  
Oh follow Reason, and esteem thou wilt  
That it's ill done to punish where's no guilt,  
unless you think that he doth so deserve  
A punishment, who doth you love and serve.  
In such a case itis you have onely might,  
And I must suffer be it wrong or right.  
But since you  told me that you do believe  
That I you love, and thereto credit give,  
Why red my Letter, and then call to mind  
The pain I suffer, 'cause you are unkind,  
For sure I am if that my torments were  
Presented to you, whispered in your ear,  
You'd have more cause your rigour to repent,  
Than to continu't to my detriment.  
Or were the passions, which to give y'have pleased,  
In equal balance with my service peas'd,  
certain I am that then you would confess  
To have no reason much joy to express,  
Or boasting brag of the great prise you gain,  
Which through my loss you winning do obtain.  
But to conclude, my Letter for to end,  
I do entreat that I no more may sand,  
But that this now may be the last; for why,  
The presence's able for to verify  
That which the Paper may fail to rehearse,  
It wanting tears my sorrows to express:  
Oh deign to see me otherwise, I shall  
Desire death to ease me out of thrall.   

Arnalte to the Traveller.  
M'Epistle being in the custody  
Of faire Lucenda, I did long to see  
How she would use't, for this intent did I  
With steadfast look fix still on her my eye;  
Yet could I nought perceive the which might ease  
My longing thoughts, or my expectance please:  
For still the doubts I had, or the mistrust  
expelled my hopes, and then obey I must.  
Besides myself I was, yea, so amazed,  
My friend I answer not to what he says,  
But in a shivering passion I conferred,  
And trembling voice which from the purpose erred.  
Alas! had any but approached, my heart  
Panting for life, o'ercome with cruel smart,  
They might have known that unkind Loves assaults  
Did torture me for her offensive faults.  
Now silvered Cinthia in her spangled sphere  
'gan to decline, and not to shine so clear;  
And Nights black queen had almost run her race,  
For she from far might spy Aurora's face,  
Which gave an end unto the mask and sport,  
And every one returned home from Court:  
Some in their Coaches, some on foot depart.  
But I addicted rather to my smart,  
Than to repose myself, I having seen  
Lucenda bid goodnight unto the queen,  
In my disguised habit I did trace  
Her Angell-foot-steps to her dwelling-place.  
Nor did I leave her there, but did aspire  
To mount her Chamber, being a story higher;  
And being there, I then did strive to see  
What would the issue of my Letter be:  
But all the while that I with her did stay,  
I could not see her to my sight display  
A piece of Paper. barred of my desire,  
My hope being frustrate, I did then retire:  
But watchful Love, who never falls asleep,  
With sundry thoughts awake did strive to keep  
My drowsy self, and so he chas't away  
My quiet slumbers: but as soon as Day  
I saw to peep,( and that the Negro queen  
Was fled away, for fear she should be seen  
Of bright Apollo, whose bright beams did shine  
Through my Glasse-windows, as he 'gan to climb  
Th'Easterne Hills with his fire-breathing Teeme,  
Whose hoofes like brass, or else like Gold did seem)  
unto her Mansion I my page. then sent  
To make a search, but 'twas with this intent,  
Onely to see if he should chance to find  
Some pieces of th'Embassage of my mind.  
For this discovery I did him encharge  
No place to leave unsought, to look at large  
In every corner, with great heed to prie  
In common rooms, and those of privacy.  
Not to pass by the place where they did use  
To cast their ordure, that of all to choose:  
My page. his duty did, yet could not he  
Bring any news the which might flatter me,  
Or cause me hope, and so extenuate  
The burning flamme of my prodigious Fate.  
But like to Sisyphus I role a ston,  
And turn a whirling wheel like Ixion:  
The further still I went some help to find,  
I found it absent, staying still behind,  
So that I could not hid my flaming fire,  
Kindled by Love, continued by Desire,  
But 'twas perceived through the sweltry smoke  
Of my hot sighs, which did me well-nigh choke:  
And the consuming flamme, by which my heart  
Did suffer torments ' yond Perillus Art.  
This caused me grow so wondrous solitary,  
That I kept house, being of myself a weary:  
But then my Sister, who Belisa hight,  
In my misfortunes claimed a part, as right  
Belonging to her, and with me would share,  
And so a world of sorrow for me bear.  
For on a day as we did both device,  
She burst out tears, which flowed from her eyes  
In such abundant manner, as if all  
The rainy showers had been forced to fall;  
Beseeching me the cause not to conceal  
Of my sad sorrow, but it to reveal.  
Her plaints did move me that I was compelled  
To manifest, what I would fain have held  
Secret and private; yet e're I did't rehearse,  
Drying her eyes these words she did express.   

Belisa to Arnalte.  
O Dearest Brother, for fellows sake I pray  
No longer hid thy sorrows, now display  
The very truth, and satisfaction give  
To my requests, and show me why you grieve:  
For why so oft as I have thee demanded,  
Thou still found'st figmens that thyself hadst feigned:  
Consider if the truth you do deny,  
Or palliate from me the verity;  
The love I bear thee, may with my regreets  
Be intermixed, and so at odds be set.  
That y'are my debtor you yourself confess,  
If that I love thee, thou maintain'st no less,  
Returning love for love, and mutually  
In your affections make a sympathy:  
reciprocal affection you return,  
To recompense my kindness so both burn  
In mutual flames of that same sacred fire,  
Which jove in breasts consanguin'd doth inspire.  
But by your words and speech you do declaim  
That which in actions you do not maintain.  
You know full well that such pretences ought  
To be omitted, not to think such thoughts,  
Let me entreat thee on my heart bestow  
The secretary-ship of all thy woe:  
For to whose trust ought you such things confided,  
If not to mine, whose loyalty y'have tried?  
For sure you are, if you desire death,  
That I do crave as soon to lose my breath.  
If you fly pleasures, and abhor their sight,  
Mournings please me, and therein I delight.  
If care and travail you affect or love,  
Rest I despise, for it doth tedious prove.  
Thus your afflictions, and my ills alike,  
Torment one heart, with tortures on it strike.  
Now if you are advised, resolved to calm  
These wherling surges, safely steer the helm;  
By whose assistance can you't easier do,  
Than by her help, who for your hap doth sue?  
Your griefs t'unload, if that you deign or please,  
We'll jointly bear them, so shall you have ease.  
If't be your pleasure that we wail and weep,  
We'll nought else do, our eyes in tears we'll steep.  
Shall we each other comfort, moan your smart?  
I am content, be't so with all my heart.  
Will y'have it hidden, or at least concealed?  
We'll keep it close, it shall not be revealed.  
If you desire some help for to effect,  
To ease yourself, I will it not neglect.  
Then show not such small love to her I pray,  
Whose chief observance is thee to obey.  
Believe not that your sly pretences can  
O're-come my judgement, though you are a man.  
Your sighs betray you, and they manifest,  
What of yourself you strive not to confess:  
Reason doth tell, that love ought not to be  
less in expression than fraternity.  
Death would most pleasing be, should I my life  
Lose for to ease thee, rid thee out of strife:  
For I perceive thy sufferings are so strong,  
The'll cut thee off, not let thee live too long.  
Oh rouse thy spirits, recover strength, you'll find  
Fortune proves cross, unlucky, and unkind  
unto her Darlings; to the caitiff she's  
The chiefest hope to ease his miseries,  
If so unsteadfast she's, so variable,  
unconstant, wherling, never still unstable,  
And eke so fickle, that her Minions need  
Not blaze her favours, or her noble deeds;  
Ne're doubt her kindness, do not too much care,  
Of her good-will I wish you not despair.  
Her wheel still turns, and daily she imparts  
Some accidents to one or others hearts.  
The saddest many you know doth mitigate  
His vexing sorrow, if he do't relate  
unto his friend; for through the recreation  
Of words, oft-times torments lose their station▪  
Sorrow doth inward swell if but concealed,  
But if disclosed, it may perhaps be healed:  
Thus if the keys of these my counsels may  
unlock thy helps, and thereto make thee way,  
Refuse them not; or do you take delight  
On your afflictions to think day and night,  
Your precious time wastefully expending  
By parlying to yourself, yet no good tending?  
I know( believe me) that the hidden flamme  
Which you reveal not, it doth but inflame  
Thy soul with torments, and that obscured fire  
Doth burn thy heart with coals of hot desire:  
Whereas the sorrows which you did express,  
Through utterment their pain is grown more less▪  
In what degree thy torments be, or are,  
In their concealment there's more danger far  
Than to detect them, ' specially to me,  
Who in my heart do bear and owe to thee  
More love and friendship than my tongue can show,  
Or words express, or thoughts conceive to knew.  
Now fearing least that I too far presume,  
I'll at this present cease to importune  
Thee with my treaties, leave off my requests,  
And end discourse, and to my words give rest.   

Arnalte to Belisa.  
MY sister pausing, I did this reply:  
Thy passion sister moves me to comply  
unto thy will, and forces me declare,  
What by my gesture doth most plain appear:  
But I am urged, more through thy earnestness,  
Than my own will, to answer thy requests.  
Had I not seen these thy unfeigned tears,  
Thou ne're hadst heard this answer with thy ears:  
Yet e're I ought relate, I thee entreat,  
When as my tongue my sufferings shall repeat,  
Not to disturb thyself; for sooner I,  
Then leave my purpose, am resolved to die.  
Then thus it is, myself I do not know  
By what strange means, but I was forced to bow,  
And yield myself to Loves all-conquering laws,  
Without provisoes, or a helping clause;  
To which my fortune hath me so confined,  
That nought but trouble I do daily find:  
For my sad heart's besieged, environed round  
With many torments, who would me confounded.  
A thousand sobs guard my distressed heart,  
As many sighs their vexing aid impart:  
Millions of woes, like bands of armed Knights,  
Stop up the passage of my sweet delights;  
Which siege still dures, and in that cruel wise,  
That all th'opposement that I can device,  
Whether in mining with my deepest thoughts,  
Or climbing Ladders by aspiring wrought,  
Cannot obtain a wished for victory.  
For love opposes, proves an enemy  
unto my fortune, who doth faintly strive  
Against th'incounters, which love fiercely drives.  
Oh thus it is, if death do not lend succour,  
Too late 'twill bee, if else where I't recover:  
Why then, dear sister, do not grieve I pray,  
Or vex thyself, though sorrow should me slay,  
But rather joy, since thou hast a brother,  
Who can his sorrows, and his torments smother.  
If ought thou'lt do wherewith thou wilt me pleasure,  
Dry up those tears, which trickle out of measure  
Along thy cheeks, bedewing thy faire face,  
Where love and beauty sit with equal grace:  
If tears would help me, I'd alone deplore,  
I need no partner, for of tears I've store.  
But since these watery streams, which over-flow  
Like rising Nilus, cause but passion grow;  
far better 'tis to let thy sluices down,  
And stop their fury, least they do thee drown.  
Two different Planets reigned at our births,  
Mine prophes'd sorrow, thine presaged mirth:  
For all the pleasure that I'd seek or choose,  
I'd turn it over to thy proper use,  
'Cause justly it to thee doth appertain;  
For care and travail, I do nought else claim,  
And can more stoutly bear them and resist  
Them manfully, and spite their force subsist  
With far more vigour than thou canst express;  
For in thy heart there is no room to rest  
Or harbour such afflictions, be content  
For these my reasons, and I pray consent  
That we may live, myself in sad distress,  
And thou in joy and true happiness.  
If this you contradict, or else oppose,  
I shall believe that you profess but shows,  
Not wishing me the good you do express,  
Since to my will you prove to be adverse:  
Doubling my woes, causing my pain to thrive  
Through thy bewailings: oh practise, learn, strive  
To o'ercome thy sorrow, cease henceforth to grieve,  
Or moan the pain wherein I tortured live,  
Else shall I have more cause for to lament,  
Feeling more sorrow linked with discontent.  
My Sister seeing that no otherwise  
I her requests did answer satisfice,  
Did then intend not to solicit more  
To know the reason why I did deplore:  
But cunningly resolved for to find  
The sad effects of my disturbed mind,  
And to search out with sly subtleties  
The hidden Spring from whence my pains did rise▪  
For endless woes did still associate me,  
And vexing sorrows kept me company.  
My Sister then she was no sooner gone,  
But I gave way to let my grief come on  
More freely then I ever did afore,  
Which I did cherish daily more and more:  
What anguishes, what torments did acquaint  
M'afflicted heart which did through sorrow faint  
With their hard usage, and their cruel power,  
Turning my sweet into a bitter sour!  
During the which I ne're could take my rest.  
I was born wretched, and did live oppressed;  
But being got on sorrows highest stair,  
Arrived at the period of despair,  
I then remembered how on a certain time  
I had revealed unto a friend of mine,  
( A Gentleman, and my familiar mate)  
The love I bear Lucenda, and the state  
Wherein I lived, and how that he did strive  
That loving humour from my mind to drive:  
For which occasion since I had not been  
To show my mind, or else to speak with him,  
Weighing the danger that might so arise,  
For well I knew in such necessities  
And weighty matters, if a man disclose  
His secret thoughts( although he do suppose  
It's to his friend) he may the hazard run,  
His hope to frustrate, and so overturn  
His expectation; for through secrecy  
The Lover's crowned with true felicity.  
Yet nevertheless casting these doubts aside,  
I did conclude once more for to unhide  
To him of whom I speak all my affections,  
Hoping he'd pitty give me some directions.  
What me emboldened, was because that he  
Next neighbour was unto Lucenda she:  
Were I lodged where this my friend did dwell,  
I then might see and please my eye-sight well:  
For which intent I sent to pray him come  
To visit me, which strait of him was done.  
Then at's arrival, I the cause did show  
For which I caused him come, and let him know  
The confidence and trust I did repose  
In him my friend, these secrets to disclose.  
For this he thanked me very lovingly;  
And whereas he before did often try  
For to divert me from my fixed intent,  
My mind to alter, which to love was bent,  
He now gave notice that he did approve  
To lend me succour to obtain my love:  
Which to effect, more pitty to infuse  
Within his breast, these words I then did use,   

Arnalte to Yerso.  
YErso, my faithful truest friend, if I  
At this same present unto the descry  
Perspicuously the things which till this time  
In clouds of silence have obscured been,  
It is thy virtue, and the confidence  
I have of thee that moves me to commence't:  
Be not displeased, nor take it ill in part,  
That I so long have lingered to impart;  
For well you know that Silence is esteemed  
In Cupids Palace, and unwise he's deemed  
Who blabs Loves secrets: this then wrought in me  
A thousand thoughts, which your benignity  
Has chast away; and now( dear friend) at length  
I feel my anguish to abate its strength;  
Since thus it is, where may I better rest  
My secret thoughts than in thy noble breast;  
Sith that thy virtue and thy amity  
Are both agreed, to guard them carefully.  
Then friend and brother, I to thee declare,  
'Gainst life and death I wage a tedious war;  
Death I encounter, 'cause he'll not obey,  
Life I oppose, 'cause she stands in my way.  
This cruel conflict it began, when as  
Lucenda's father from this life did pass:  
Then first I saw her, and since that time  
continued without means for to combine  
A friendly peace or truce, for love seeing  
Me so submiss, my chiefest practise being  
In due observance of her strict commands,  
Or true performance of her asked demands:  
With all his might wounded my( lovesick) heart  
With burning Shafts, and hot impoyson'd darts,  
So that his combat being wondrous rude,  
And my resistance weak, I was pursued  
Even unto death; for his assaults have been  
Without cessation, or a finishing:  
And my defence unto so poor an end,  
That those who should have been my truest friends,  
They have betrayed me, and forsaken me,  
To shrowded themselves in more security;  
For hope renounced me, help did from me fly,  
Reason she shunned me, succour came not nigh.  
Now if you think, because I this propound,  
That in my wits I am not well, or sound,  
Believe me( Yerso) I should so possess,  
Had I no sense, a real happiness.  
Were I unwitting of my overthrow,  
I for my loss should feel no pain or woe;  
Were I of wit and reason both bereaved,  
I should not fear or questioned to be healed:  
And so not hoping, I should not despair  
Of ease, or help, for which I now do care.  
Thus dearest friend, thou seest what that I am,  
How to myself no safeguard lend I can,  
unless the Bands of thy most kind affections,  
And armed troops of thy well-wisht directions  
do me assist, and undertake to guard  
My wretched heart, which from all help is barred.  
Vpon a means I've thought, which to effect  
To sweet content may truly me direct.  
For since thy lodging doth so near adjoin  
unto Lucendas, whose sweet looks enjoin  
My dazel'd sight her aspect to behold,  
( Which shames Apollo though he shine like Gold)  
I crave dear friend that thou wilt suffer me  
For to inhabit some few Moneths with thee.  
For all the joy and the bliss I crave,  
Is but a prospect of her face to have:  
Then I entreat thee that thou'lt not deny  
To lend me help my mind to satisfy;  
For, for this purpose I have for thee sent,  
That being acquainted with my fixed intent,  
Thou mightst assist me, I implore thy aid:  
For thou a means of great god Love wert made.  
And cause I credit you have more desire  
For to befriend me than I can require,  
I'll cease to parley, or to urge you more,  
And end my suite, and my requests give o'er.   

Answer of Yerso to Arnalte.  
OF thee, and to thee Arnalte I complain,  
Since in your breast you harbour and retain  
Doubt and suspicion, with the fiend distrust,  
And that of me more-o're tax you I must,  
Since you transgress the limits of affection,  
Seeking strange ways, and not your friends protection.  
Ill done it was so long for to obscure,  
Or hid from me the ills you do endure:  
Put case it's thus, that Loves ordained laws  
bind you to silence, not to blab your cause;  
You may be pitied, but no way relieved,  
If you conceal your pain, you being grieved:  
For 'tis a maxim, and most true indeed,  
" Who spare to ask, must likewise spare to speed.  
Thou mayst, Arnalte, this thyself assure,  
The grief of thy afflictions will endure  
More constant with me than my words to plain,  
Or to condole thy sorrows and thy pain.  
But could thy torments but divided be,  
I'd be a partner in thy misery:  
Yet what in actions cannot be expressed,  
Shall be accomplished through my willingness.  
Thou dost declare, that in the splendent eyes  
Of bright Lucenda treason hidden lies,  
Which traitorously thy life doth overthrow,  
From those faire eyes my cares do likewise grow:  
For if in thee shee moves afflicting passion,  
My life she ruins with a strange destruction.  
Yet to the end our wills may both accord,  
( Free from discordance, of true friends abhorred)  
From this day forward I will banish quiter  
The thought of her who used me to delight:  
Assuring you that Ile conclude a peace  
To pleasure thee, and cause my war to cease,  
Though it do grieve me very vehemently,  
Ile it effect to gain my liberty,  
And turn thee over to the bondage which  
Thou dost desire, satisfy thy wish;  
And that the rather, 'cause I will secure  
My liberty, for of no hap I'm sure;  
By my retreat I shall infranchis'd be,  
And you'll remain still in captivity.  
Thou pray'st me also that I'd thee advice,  
Receive thy plaints, and listen to thy cries:  
If from my counsel could such profit grow,  
As flowing tears from thy sad sorrows, know  
Thou shouldst be healed strait, exempted free  
From ill or pain, or any misery.  
But let me'tell thee, I am rapt with wonder,  
That thou'dst be vanquished, & by force brought under  
The cruel bondage of so weak a foe,  
Who will usurp, and you must duty owe.  
And thou( brave spirit) who art memoriz'd  
For thy great acts above the lofty skies,  
Thou art enthralled, alas, now confined  
unto the will of a weak womans mind,  
Oh call to mind how thy bright shining famed  
Will be eclipsed, if thou dost this same,  
And thy rare worth, how will it blasted be  
With the report of shameful infamy?  
fly these abuses, and courageously  
Resist fond love with valour manfully.  
Nor say I this because I would dehort  
Thee from thy purpose, or at least exhort  
Thee not to love; for I would have thee dare  
To cherish it, but with a pallid fear:  
And seeking shun it, wish, yet not crave,  
For to enjoy what you do wish to have.  
Or would I have thee all at once expel  
Love from thy heart,( affections chiefest cell)  
For then thou wouldst as great a hazard run,  
As it appears thou hast already done  
Through thy consentment: since thou dost obey  
To love false soothings, or his flattering lay.  
Love is a cheater, he pretends most faire,  
In stead of hap he'll leave you nought but care:  
Who loves him least, and doth him most neglect,  
His laws reward him with a due respect.  
I am persuaded you'd do wondrous well,  
Should you repeat, and plainly to him tell  
The baseness of his deeds, how shameless he  
Abuseth thee through his base treachery.  
Let no despair too much with thee reside,  
And have a care how you do love confided.  
Consider Hope, how it is her condition,  
Though things seem easy, not to grant fruition:  
Regard how Fortune, though she be unstable,  
Gives end to things unsteadfast, variable:  
And thus Lucenda, Authresse of thy woe,  
In time she may some pitty to thee show,  
And please thy sences, with her Organ voice  
Revive thy spirits, and thy heart rejoice:  
Now if you will advised by me be,  
Thou shalt obtain what seemeth hard to thee.  
Come to my house, use it, oh do not stand  
On terms I pray, it is at your command:  
Thou hast me injured, having all this time  
delayed it, thou knowing I am thine:  
But 'cause hence-forward Ile more careful be  
To cure thy wounds, applying remedy,  
Than to prove tedious with my words or talk,  
Ile silent be: and now wilt please you walk?   

Arnalte to the Traveller.  
THus friend y'have heard the answer Yerso made,  
But when he plaind of this sweet virtuous maid,  
Renowned Lucenda, I began to swell,  
Being impoyson'd with a fiend of Hell.  
suspicion scorched me, raging jealousy  
Did burn my heart, which in hot flames did fry:  
But howsoe'er I made no outward show,  
How that the fire inwardly did glow:  
For I conjectured that these fantasies  
From too much love and fondness did arise.  
sometimes I doubt him, which being scarcely thought,  
Those thoughts I banish, set them all at nought,  
And then I way his kindness, and his proffer:  
Our ancient friendship, how he near did offer  
The least unkindness, and I then embrace,  
To make his house my dwelling for a space.  
The giddy moon did scarcely three times run  
Her mighty course, or hath the glorious Sun  
( With fiery Steeds, and flaming Chariot hurled)  
Thrice bid good-morrow to the nether world,  
Whilst here I so journ'd; but I strait perceived  
I was defrauded, and, alas, deceived:  
For though I watched, or heedfully did look,  
I could not see her, though this pains I took.  
Thus worse and worse my pains did daily grow,  
And in so many kindes I did it show,  
That divers people did thereof take note,  
That variously they did of it report,  
And that so public, that my sister dear,  
The kind Belisa, came of it to hear;  
And she considering of my present pain,  
And future ills I might at length sustain,  
With care endeavoured, adding all her skill,  
To find the reason of my grieving ill.  
Through her entreaties she did so much learn,  
That she did see, perceive, and eke discern,  
That all my woes and pains they did arise  
From the faire fountains of the crystal eyes  
Of sweet Lucenda; thus resolved, she speeds  
To find her out which caused my heart to bleed,  
Alt'ring her course of life, striving to be  
far more familiar than she wont to be  
With Dame Lucenda, though long since 'twixt them  
Love and affection had conversant been,  
The daies great King, bright-ey'd Hiperion,  
In golden triumph brightly shining run  
His wonted progress o'er and o'er again,  
himself to bathe in the cool western main,  
E're that my sister could gain swift-wing'd time  
To be propitious unto her design.  
But on a day, about the time which we  
Call the Maridian, when the sun we see  
With hottest rays, and fiery breath to climb  
Th'Ecclipticke Pole, my sister then did dine  
With faire Lucenda, and then dinner past,  
Shee did retire with her welcome guest  
To a with-drawing room, there to repose,  
Where when they were my sister this disclosed.   

Belisa to Lucenda.  
COurteous Lucenda, virtues chiefest heir,  
Our Sexes glory, for there's none so faire:  
Oh let thy goodness as transparent be,  
As those bright beams which in your eyes we see:  
Thy wonted prudence and thy wisdom use,  
Be not offended, all distaste refuse;  
Oh tax me not, although I should offend  
Thee with my words, my dearest, dearest friend.  
dear tax me not of indiscretion,  
For any word the which my trembling tongue  
Shall utter to thee, if you apprehended  
Aright my meaning, I shall be esteemed  
And praised, I hope rather, then to be  told  
That I presume, offend, or am too bold:  
And that the rather, 'cause anothers grief  
emboldeneth me to pled for his relief.  
Give ear Lucenda, and you then shall know,  
That it's long since that sorrow, pain, and woe  
Thrives with my brother, and the sacred lamp  
Of his rich health, burns smothering in a damp:  
So that all help which we to him apply  
Effects no cure, it proveth contrary.  
Now knowing this, and seeing that the date  
Of his sick life was e'en exterminate  
Through vehement pain, and cruel killing smart,  
Which rents his breast, and tears in two his heart;  
Him I besought with sighs, and tears, and cries,  
For to reveal, discover to my eyes  
His hidden passions, which did e'en exhale  
His fainting breath( to puff up Charons sail)  
But all I did could not, alack, prevail;  
He still was silent, though I weep or wail.  
But I at length through sly suspicion found,  
Of all his cares the true and perfect ground:  
And still enquiring, I did find this out,  
( Conjecture, aiding, and distrustful doubt)  
That thou the motive art which doth atract  
His dying heart, with blind loves torments racked:  
And eke the means consisteth friend in thee  
To heal his pain, release, and set him free.  
Now to assure yourself that all is true  
Which I express, declare, and tell to you,  
No other proof you need, but the complaints  
I move, of him whose soul with sorrow faints.  
Had I not seen the dangerous storm wherein  
His life's nigh ship-wrack't, I would not have been  
So unadvised rash, for to complain  
Of the afflictions which he doth sustain.  
A great desire I moreover have  
To do him service, and his life to save;  
For if my will resist, why strait I find  
His sad disasters to divert my mind,  
And my true love, and unfeigned affection,  
If that I err grants me a true direction:  
And this I vow, could but my life release  
Him from afflictions, to his heart give ease,  
I'd not respect it, I would lay it down,  
His wounded heart with future bliss to crown.  
You know the fruit the last Plague did us yield,  
How Charon wafted to th' elysian fields  
Our honoured Parents; will you likewise act  
A Tragedy as grievous, and as black,  
As full of horror, to the utter ruin  
Of all our lineage, and our house undoing?  
Yet if so cruel you yourself express,  
You will receive small praise, you must confess.  
Avouch I can, and this affirm indeed,  
If you deny to help him now in need,  
Care-freeing death will to his pain give rest,  
And ease his life, which now is but oppressed.  
Consider but how deeply you are bound  
unto his love, which is most pure and sound:  
For though you him disdain, his svit neglect,  
Still, still he loves you, owes you all respect.  
And since to him these toilsome labours seem  
Full of delight, and care he quiet deems,  
For there's not any one so well acquainted  
With your Conditions, with unkindness tainted.  
You are beholding, in a high degree,  
Unto his faithful love and constancy.  
Nor is this all, for it doth plain appear  
He doth respect your honour, truly fear  
To tax your worth, for he with pleasure fain's  
To undergo his sorrows and his pains:  
And though his bnrthen might fit Atlas back▪  
With constancy he bears the heavy pack.  
Then do not deign to let such loyalty  
To fail or perish, unrewarded die;  
Which if you suffer, then the Sisters three,  
The Goddesses of mortals destinies,  
They'll cut his thread, and so he'll end his daies  
To your dishonour, his ne're dying praise:  
Since now you may dis-ranke the mighty bands  
Of his strong passions, quench the fiery brands  
Of burning love, if onely you will deign  
To sand some Lines, subscribed with your name;  
For Loves sake grant it, and you then shall have  
Of me your friend a most submissive slave.   

Lucenda to Belisa.  
dear friend Belisa, let not any doubt  
possess thy thoughts, suspicion banish out;  
Nor do not think that thou shalt taxed be  
For any thing thou hast revealed to me:  
Nor is thy honour blemish't, or thy famed  
So much as spotted with asmutch or stain:  
It is as pure as the Pirenian snow,  
As bright as lilies in their milk-white shows.  
This to affirm, I my Conscience call,  
And thy renown well known in general.  
Put case y'ad wronged me with your passed words,  
Your bashfulness and modesty affords  
As soon redress; thus you ought rather mourn  
For your dear brother, with affliction torn,  
Than to excuse the fault that's not committed,  
But 'tis your goodness, and you ought be pitied.  
Oh how it grieves me that my answer can't  
yield thee no comfort, or wished so lace grant!  
I make no question of thy brothers pain,  
And less I wonder that for him you plain.  
Now if he will, what you do say he will,  
That is, consent my mind for to fulfil,  
himself shall act it, but provided this,  
That to my worth it no dishonour is:  
For I as much my honour must respect,  
As you his life;( nor I his life neglect)  
For well you know, if Ladies do consent  
unto th'allurings, and the blandishment  
Of sighing Lovers, then their famed will be  
eclipsed in Clouds of shameful infamy.  
Oh do not crave that I should act that which!  
yourself would shun:( our honours prejudice)  
Are you unwitting of the sacred light  
Of my pure virtues, would grow dark as night,  
Should I inflame with my pure Virgin fire  
The waxed Taper of the hot desire  
Of thy dear brother? would to God that this  
Thou hadst not mentioned, since so grave it is.  
Alas, alas, how oftentimes have I  
wished this my beauty were deformity?  
How oft have I, when I have been alone,  
Bewayld his tears with tears, & moan'd his moan?  
Since that his thoughts do mount, and aim so high,  
That they e'en reach impossibility,  
As great a mind I have, as much desire  
Him to assist, as you have to require:  
And if that ought his safety could procure,  
My famed exempted, I would it endure:  
But since my loss must prove to be his gain,  
I cannot help him, would I ne're so fain.  
This let him know, as also that I grieve  
For his hard chance, yet cannot him relieve,  
Now if my answer do not satisfy  
Thy expectations, do not tax me, why?  
There is no fault in me, my honour blame;  
For could I help him I would do the same.  
Oh tax me not Belisa of ill-will:  
Nor do thou blame me, I have done no ill.   

Arnalte to the Traveller.  
WIth quick return my sister to me came  
From faire Lucenda( whose transcendent name  
I ever honour) this she certified;  
But yet her answer she from me did hid,  
Thinking at length t' imprint into my mind  
That for my good, which now did prove unkind.  
Yet all her words they could me not persuade,  
Nor would I credit ought, though't did invade  
My pensive breast; for what my sister  told,  
'Twas ambiguous, ' surance did not hold  
League with her fictions; for if the effect  
Proves false or feigned, it cannot truth direct.  
These sundry reasons moved me to suppose  
My sister had not gained what she prepos'd.  
Then sad despair did strait possess my breast,  
And expelled hope of any help or rest:  
Thus destitute of any means to ease,  
M'afflicted mind, or sorrows to appease,  
I did resolve to fain, as if at nought  
I prized Lucenda, not to cherish thought  
Of her perfections; for I notice had  
She careless was, and voided of all regard  
Concerning my afflictions; m' unkind Fate  
Shee did not tax, or once compassionate.  
But to the purpose, my resolved intent  
I executed, made experiment,  
Praying my sister for to certify  
unto Lucenda, that hence-forward I  
Would take less pains, myself for to confine  
unto her service, though she seemed Divine.  
And that hereafter I would learn to live  
Like to myself, and not my freedom give  
Unto a Lady, who did disregard  
My life and love, and gave me no reward:  
My sister said a word she would not miss,  
Yet e're she went I her advised this,  
That she should mark, and with a curious eye  
Observe the blushes of her Phismony:  
And above all, when that she should declare  
Her message to her, then to have a care  
For to behold the looks which she should glance,  
With the mutations of her countenance:  
For by the gesture one may sooner find,  
Than by the words the meaning of the mind;  
And by the colour that doth come and go,  
The hearts intentions one may plainly know.  
As also to regard when she should cease,  
If that Lucenda too should hold her peace;  
Or else make show as if shee did not care  
For all the love or honour I her bear:  
And if she should respond whether it were  
sudden or doubtful, uttered with a fear:  
For hard it is such things for to obscure,  
If love be perfect, or affection pure.  
Now did my sister, having understood  
My will and pleasure, writ in lines of blood  
Within her heart, and lodged in her mind,  
What I had  told her, and then went to find  
virtuous Lucenda; who when sh'ad found,  
The place consenting, this she did propound.   

Belisa to Lucenda.  
IF my requests have caused as much distaste  
To thee Lucenda, as I am shame-fac't  
T' entreat them of thee, then I marvel much  
Your clemency and goodness should be such  
As to regard me, and most graciously  
For to forgive so great an injury;  
Yet howsoever it is so ordained,  
That the harsh torments of the Captive, and  
My loving brother, move and cause in thee,  
Unquiet anger, and disturbers be  
Of thy sweet thoughts, and my earnest suing  
As irksome to thee as my brothers wooing.  
The love I bear him it compelling me,  
And trusting in thy virtuous courtesy,  
I have presumed myself for to present  
Before thy face with his sad strained laments.  
hear then I pray thee, and with me bear part,  
Since without them I live without a heart.  
Lucenda know my brother doth intend  
No more to love thee, but to give an end  
unto those thoughts, that he himself may free  
From servitude, and gain his liberty:  
Although the beauty and the lovely grace,  
With the perfections of thy pleasing face,  
Have fettered him in chains of wilful love,  
And strongly bound him that he scarce can move:  
Yet he doth say he'll do't, and forsake  
His country too, and then his absence make  
An Arbitrator 'twixt thy cruelty  
And his true love, and constant loyalty:  
And thus exiled he doth hope to find  
What you deny him, being still unkind.  
But if you do permit, or else consent  
To let him act this his resolved intent,  
Long after him I shall not live, but die;  
For after death my soul with his must fly.  
If he himself absent he cannot live,  
And I alone; who shall me comfort give?  
And so forsaken, living desolate,  
Death will my light with speed extenuate:  
And thus shall I as disrespected be,  
As if I were thy mortal enemy.  
You take more pains for to seem merciful,  
Than really for to be pitiful:  
For you reject the faithful constancy  
Of your true friend, who doth continually  
Wish you more good than any living wight  
Can optate for you, to your sweet delight.  
Yet not withstanding hath it ever been  
Heard of, or known, or at least wise seen,  
That any one did ever gratify  
Such generous actions with discourtesy?  
Wou't have his mind be whole, his will be sound  
When thou his heart with torments dost confounded?  
Let me entreat thee,( nay for love of me)  
New laws establish, and henceforth decree  
Other Injunctions to thy resolved will,  
And with unkindness do not thou him kill.  
Nor speak I this t' incite thee to transgress  
The bounded limits of thy vertuousnesse:  
But if you act what I to you propound,  
It to your praise and glory will redound:  
Since through your pitty you may save, relieve  
Two dying bodies, and their lives reprieve.  
Oh say not nay( dear friend) to my requests,  
Since that thy honour shall not be molest:  
Revolve unto thyself what will become  
Of my dear brother, if he abandon  
Thy company; and what will eke betid▪  
To me( he absent) when alone I bide?  
Take heed least you cause him precipitate,  
And my sad sorrow do not exasperate.  
Oh call to mind, alas, do not forget  
His grief, my anguish, sweet now pitty it:  
For fellows dread sake be not so obstinate,  
Selfe-wil'd, resolved, or so opinionate:  
Oppose thy will, but spotless, without stain  
unto thy honour, or thy virtuous famed:  
So shall you served be, honoured, and I  
Have consolation in my misery.  
Oh be not guilty of his overthrow,  
Nor causer of my cruell-killing woe:  
Strive to o'ercome the passion of thy will,  
Withstand its rage, the fury of it kill:  
For all things governed by the wills direction  
Come home with loss, and not with gains protection.  
With my entreaties be not thou offended,  
But let me thus far be of thee befriended,  
That thou wilt deign some lines to recommend  
unto my brother, and that to this end,  
That the bright Taper of his living light  
Be not snuffed out, and so his day made night:  
For 'tis against all reason, Law, or sense,  
To punish him who hath done no offence.   

Lucenda to Belisa.  
dry up thy tears Belisa, weep no more,  
assuage thy passions, and thy grieve give o'er,  
For from this day I will conformed be  
unto your will, and grant what you decree.  
Now would to God that I had not a tongue,  
Then with my words myself I should not wrong:  
And although the fault already is transgressed,  
Too credulous, myself I have expressed.  
Yet could I not withstand it, since thou wilt  
Take to thyself the blame of all my guilt;  
thyself obliging for to set me free,  
Clad in white robes of pure innocency.  
Oh do not bragging boast, or boasting vaunt  
Of what thy treaties have enforced me grant:  
The trickling tears which from thy eyes did run,  
Like armed troops, my will have overcome:  
Yet notwithstanding I delight do take  
In my displeasure, since it recreates  
Thy pensive thoughts, and my affection's such,  
That ought for thee I cannot think too much:  
For if my loss thy gain may prove to be,  
I do desire to suffer it for thee;  
entreating thee to grant me so much love  
As to obtain it, you have treaties moved  
Not presently to vilify; neglect  
The prise obtained with base disrespect:  
For 'tis a rule well known in general,  
Most common too, and kindly unto all;  
That things not purchac'd we do highly prise,  
But once obtained we do them then despise,  
Remember well, that from this present tide,  
You reduable are to me obliged.  
The longest day you live do not forget  
The recompense to countervail this debt.  
Consider how at this same present time  
My honours thread I do untwist, untwine:  
Yet since I have myself thus hazarded  
To writ unto him, I will have no dread,  
With this proviso, that my Letter give  
Peace to his war, quietly cause him live.  
Oh would to God 't had been his sacred will,  
That at that time when I my heart did fill  
With the sad thought of this determination,  
( embracing sorrow with deliberation)  
That then the earth had gaped, and swallowed me  
up in her bowels of obscurity;  
For then had I been eased by pale-faced death  
Of that which now will last whilst I have breath:  
My soul must suffer't, since commiseration  
Hath enterprised against its self this action.  
And though Belisa I do now repent  
Me of these things to which I do consent,  
Yet have I not the power to revoke  
What I do grant, because I would provoke  
Some joy to thee, also t' intermix  
Mirth with the sorrow, in thy true heart fixed.  
Therefore will I give way that thy request  
Shall take possession of my pensive breast:  
And to the end that thou mayst have a sight  
Of my pen'd-missive, Ile begin to writ.   

A Letter of Lucenda to Arnalte.  
I do believe my Letter will not find  
Thee, friend Arnalte, glader in thy mind,  
Than sad it left me; yet for to complain  
I'd had no cause, had but my hand been lame,  
Or else benumbed, at that same instant, when  
It did touch paper with the well-nib pen,  
To writ this missive, since it captives me,  
Thralling my freedom and my liberty;  
Giving to thee that which I never thought,  
A gauge too precious, where it owed thee nought▪  
Bee not too proud, 'cause unto thee I writ,  
Nor yet too sad, if henceforth to thy sight  
M' Epistles come not; let reason mitigate  
Thy present glory, and my missive take.  
With shows well-tempered give it entertain,  
With wise expressions; do not thou proclaim  
Thy inward ioy, hid it, and disguise  
Thy vehement love from all observing eyes.  
Remember well when as such victories  
Are published, that men then sacrifice  
Ladies bright honours, but since friend so well  
What's needful for thee thou thyself canst tell:  
Be not less heedful those things to direct,  
Which may assist me, or my famed protect:  
Still have before thy eyes, never forget,  
How thee to pleasure I myself neglect,  
Changing my Title: I who used to have  
Respect and honour, am become a slave,  
To favour thee, for I have hazarded  
My reputation, and a discord bread  
Within myself: for at that instant when  
You chant your glory, very, very then  
I wail and weep, since I thee to content,  
Suffer great loss unto my detriment,  
Staining my honour, spotting of my famed  
With base aspersions, blasting of my name.  
How oft have I withdrawn my trembling hand  
From off this paper, and gi'n strict command  
unto my pen not one word more to writ?  
Ah, but alas, who hath the strength or might  
For to withstand thy importunities,  
Or ward themselves from thy persuading cries?  
Thou hast gained rest unto thy labour now:  
For doubt assurance, and moreover thou  
Hast cause to glory, and thyself to glad,  
Since no occasions left to make thee sad.  
Thy sister tells me thou wilt hence depart:  
I thee assure 't would grieve me to the heart:  
For those who cannot any help express,  
Ought not direct men unto sad distress.  
To tell the truth, I rather do mistrust  
This is deceit, than real, true, or just:  
Yet to deceive me if you did intend,  
I do declare that thou hast gained thy end.  
But howsoever, I would have you know  
I understood it, though I made no show;  
And to the end you thinking to beguile  
Or circumvent me, you be not the while  
O're-reacht, defrauded; for full well I know,  
That amongst ye, who love, do duty owe:  
When that by wil●ss you to the period come  
Of your designs, and slily over-come  
us female Creatures, think ye have achieved  
A victory most highly to be prized.  
deem not thyself so subtle, nor think me  
So indiscreet, or simplo for to be:  
But that I have perceived it in that kind,  
That more for pitty of thy vexed mind,  
Than dread of thee, these few lines I do writ,  
What you endure your sister doth recite.  
For she doth so assure me of thy pain,  
And with her tear likewise aver the same;  
That not alone I thereto credit give:  
For, for thy sufferings I both mourn and grieve,  
And in that wise that I would let thee know't  
By this my Letter which doth plainly show't.  
Let this content thee, or else otherwise  
You may lose that which you have made your prise:  
Comfort thyself, and so thyself retire  
Into thyself, never more aspire  
To find me out with toilsome labour, why,  
Your long discourse, and the small time that I  
Can spare to hear it, will exasperate  
Afresh your sorrows, and them aggravate.   

Arnalte to the Traveller.  
SHe having this her Letter finished,  
She gav't my sister, who with swift-wing'd speed  
Made hast to find me, being at that tide  
Into my Closet for a while retired:  
But when I saw her, I did by her gesture,  
What she did speak; e're she it spoken conjecture.  
Then drawing nigh me, she began to tell  
I should not mourn, but my cares expel:  
For she did bring me what Lucenda had  
Concluded of them, thus bid me be glad.  
Wherefore she 'gan for to recite at last,  
What 'twixt Lucenda and herself had past;  
And from her bosom she drew forth the Letter,  
Which did reprieve my life, and made me debtor  
Still unto death; then holding 't in my hand,  
I did along while pausing with it stand.  
Nor could I be persuaded it could be,  
That such good hap should happen unto me.  
Then kissing sweetly with a true respect  
That blessed Paper, and the snow-white neck,  
And Swan-like hands of my most dearest sister,  
I broken it open having often kist her:  
And then I red it, but who then had seen  
Me, would have judged I had surprised been  
With sweet delight, and easily have said  
That pleasing pleasure had me ravished.  
The virtue of that Letter did inflame  
More bright my fire, and I deemed the same  
Beyond esteem, and with excess of joy,  
My soul was rapt in such an ecstasy,  
That it well nigh my body did forsake,  
For to give way that it more room might make  
For these new joys, and to entertain  
Delight and pleasure in lieu of my pain.  
But having red it, and re-read it, I  
Then found contentment and alacrity;  
Not too predominate, for grim despair  
As well as joy, claimed an equal share:  
For when I thought my drooping self to glad,  
I lost my courage, for no hope I had.  
And if I would lament, why the good will  
Which she professed me, did oppose me still:  
So what to do, alas I could not tell,  
My counsel left me, doubt did with me dwell.  
But 'cause my griefs were far more vehement  
Than all the joy, or the sweet content  
Her Letter brought me, I did then indite  
This answer to her, which I thus recite.   

The Letter of Arnalte to Lucenda.  
THose well-pen'd Lines that were composed by thee,  
Divine Lucenda, and addressed to me,  
I have received, but I must confess  
With more content than now I can express;  
For when they were presented to me, then  
I deemed myself the happiest of men:  
But when I red them sorrow did affright  
All ioy from me, and all sweet delight:  
For being closed they promised me redress,  
But being opened, nothing else expressed,  
unless unkindness, which did overthrow  
My expectations, throb my heart with woe,  
By which I judge there is more likelihood  
For future ills than for my present good:  
So that I cannot really express  
Such true delight as I ought to confess;  
For if I think thy favour to obtain,  
My torments thrive, and I grow rich in pain:  
For by your writing you do quiter destroy  
All hope of comfort, or delight some ioy.  
My ills you say do grieve you, wherefore then  
do you express that which you do not mean?  
Why do you publish, or with words proclaim,  
What with your will you mean not to maintain?  
If so it were, that my afflictions they  
Displeasing were, then might you truly say  
What you maintained; and then you would retract  
What you commit now both in word and fact.  
Ah dear Lucenda, why do you pretend  
Not truly with your truly loving friend.  
I have the name, but you commit the act;  
I gain the honour, you express the fact.  
truly I'd rather that my sufferings were  
doubtful unto thee, than that thou shouldst bear  
Credit unto them, giving no redress  
unto my torments, or my wretchedness.  
You do propose, dear love, to me that I  
Should Court your favours very modestly:  
If I could ease myself so freely well  
As I can bear my sorrows, let me tell  
Thee, dearest Mistris, I would never groan  
under the burden of my grief or moan;  
My smarting pain with speed I would recure,  
These grievous torments which I do endure.  
Now if you please( faire love) to succour me,  
Or to alloy my killing misery,  
Let me entreat thee( Sweetest) not to deign  
despair a triumph o'er my soul to gain:  
Neither permit grim Death to bathe his Dart  
Within the crimson river of my heart:  
Let it suffice that thou hast robbed me  
Of the best part of life; sweet Lady see  
How that my tears entreat thee for thy grace,  
Which if you grant not, death will come in place;  
For why, my sorrows which do parallel  
Thy heavenly beauty, which doth all excel,  
Th' are too heavy and insufferable,  
I cannot bear them th' are intolerable.  
This is the cause, I feeling of my Fate,  
And how unkindly you it aggravate;  
That I cannot rejoice, or dure to see  
Another glader than myself to be:  
For I do wish that every one were used  
With love as basely as I am abused:  
And since my love doth daily still increase,  
And that reward doth grant me no release,  
I do resolve unto some place to go,  
Ne're to return; for this Ile let thee know,  
That Death and Time in this my banishment,  
Shall ease my cares, and kill sad languishment.  
Now since you have bard up all hope from me,  
Of speaking to thee, yet vouch safe to see  
Me e're I part; nor speak I this t'impair  
Thy bright renown, as glorious and as faire  
As Phoebus rays, for let it not( sweet) be  
In any place debarred from company;  
Or where suspicion wanders but in sight  
Of my dear sister, in whom you delight;  
So shall you see my grief, and eke behold  
My blooming colour turned into the mould  
Of pale-faced tawny, and all cheerful grace  
To be eclipsed within my youthful face;  
And as black grounds, they set off to the sight  
Transparent colours, most of all the white.  
So I being present, my pale hue will show  
How fragrant Roses freshly bud and grow  
In milk-white fields; I mean those Virgin plains,  
Your cheeks imbelisht with Carnation stains.  
If this you grant, or else consent that I  
Shall you behold with my unworthy eyes,  
Then may you free the wretched captived heart  
Of thy poor vassal from all cruel smart,  
And with that hap enrich my fortunes so,  
That what want means I never more shall know,  
What else to writ I cannot tell, but this,  
If you vouchsafe to grant me so much bliss,  
As to permit me thy sweet face to see,  
myself Ile prostrate with humility,  
And kiss thy feet, and on my bended knee,  
And eyes erected, ever honour thee.   

Arnalte to the Traveller.  
MY Letter ended, I did then implore  
My sisters aid, entreating her once more  
For to present unto Lucenda's view  
This Letter which I have rehearst to you:  
This she did grant me, being thereto moved  
More through my treaties, than her will approved:  
For shane forbade her, but then pure affection  
O're-came all hindrance, and gave her direction.  
Then like to those who do expect their fate,  
With speed she hasted for to obviate  
Her good or ill, and to Lucenda she  
tendered the Letter that was sent by me;  
But she was forced unanswered to return  
To wretched me, whose heart in flames did burn  
Of fiery love, still fewel'd with disdain,  
Which did increase more furiously my flamme,  
This moved my sister daily to end endeavour  
T' effect some means that she might me deliver.  
Then on a day virtuous Lucenda and  
My sister meeting, she could not withstand  
My sisters treats, though her defence were great,  
But did vouchsafe that I with her should speak.  
This sentence added wings unto the speed  
Of my dear sister, who was glad indeed,  
To bring me tidings of so great a bliss,  
And overlooked great jove that he had daign'd her this,  
That she was born the bearer for to be  
Of the good news which she did bring to me:  
She did rejoice, and then did declare  
What was decreed of sweet Lucenda, faire  
As bright Aurora, Conduct to the Day,  
Whose Roseate blushes to our sight displays  
Phoebus approach each day when he doth rise  
From Tethys bed, to travail through the skies.  
Who ever saw a Prisoner doomed to death,  
gain a Reprivall for his sentenced breath,  
And that unlook't for, since he hath no hope  
But for to breath his last by Sword or Rope;  
Is so transported, that he scarce believes,  
Hearing th' Injunction of those new decrees?  
But being assured, he with excess of measure  
Courts this his Fortune with a world of pleasure.  
Or else a Pilot in a raging storm,  
deems bark, and goods, himself, and all forlorn,  
Since whirling winds feloniously do crack  
His twisted Cables, cause his Anchors slacken  
Their forked hold, and drive him in despite  
Of steer, or helm, he knows not wrong or right:  
Mounting him one while to the azured sky,  
And then as soon read rive him furiously  
Unto the bottom of the vast extent  
Of Neptunes foaming watery Regiment:  
Whilst thus he's tost on the Sea-swelling waves,  
And well-nigh swallowed in their watery graves,  
Fraught with despair, possessed he never more,  
Shall set his footing on the sandy shore,  
Doth suddenly through light of Phoebus ray,  
Spies from a far the prospect of a bay.  
Yet former fear hath so possessed his breast,  
And present ruin, that he fears this blessed  
Appearance's but an object of illusion,  
His hopes to flatter, ere their last confusion,  
But then the winds( though angry) and the light  
Give him full view of what he had in sight:  
Th'irefull Seas transport him where the tide  
Doth drive his bark, that it may safely ride.  
Then being safe, and out of dangers way,  
He thankes great jove, and with the cheerful day  
Doth rouse his spirits, and expelleth quiter  
The sad remembrance of the passed night:  
Even thus was I, until that news reprieved  
My dying soul, and my sad heart relieved.  
For scarce my Sister had breathed out her words,  
But sweet content such pleasure me affords,  
That whilst I lived, I never did possess  
Such sweet delight, and pleasing happiness:  
For, for t' express it it's impossible:  
My tongue's too weak my own delights to tell,  
My anguishes were metamorphosed  
To sudden joys, sorrow from me fled  
With swiftest speed: with mirth and pleasure then  
My soul and heart did jointly entertain  
That blessed news, and at that very time  
Love did me cherish, saying he was mine.  
But then the Guardians of the bright-fac't Day  
Had set the hour, and we must away  
Unto the place assigned; for we did come  
When as bright Titan, otherwise the sun  
Comes dancing forth, Heavens Eastern-gate set wide,  
To mount his Chariot, which doth for him bide.  
unto a chapel then I did retire,  
unto a Cell, where usually the friar  
used for to shrift the people who confess  
Their sins, and crimes, with their past wickedness.  
joining to which Lucenda straightways came,  
And took her seat; I seeing of the same,  
The place consenting, I began to show  
With words and tears my torments and my woes,   

Arnalte to Lucenda in the Friers Cell.  
FAirest of Ladies, Mistris of my heart,  
renowned Lucenda, Auth'resse of my smart;  
The gracious favour, and the honoured grace,  
Which at this present you to me vouchsafe;  
It's truly such, that I for e're despair  
To recompense thy kindness, or thy care:  
unless my service it may satisfy  
In some respects thy noble courtesy;  
sweet love accept them, and dear Mistris let  
My weeping eyes; and sorrowful aspect  
Give thee assurance of my constant love,  
Which whilst I live I vow shall never move.  
The Pelican shall never more express  
unto her young ones her kind tenderness.  
The Negro Moore shall change his swarthy hue,  
The gods shall homage unto mortals do,  
E're I forsake to love and honour thee;  
Why then, why then release my poor heart free,  
redress my wrongs, relieve me, do me right,  
In lieu of sorrow, grant me sweet delight:  
Pitty thy Captive, and some favour show  
unto my heart enveloped with woe.  
File of those shackles, with which thy disdain  
Hath fettered me, release me out of palne.  
Let this incite thee, fairest, to apply  
Some cooling Cordial, for alas I fry,  
And burn in flames of hot tormenting fire,  
kindled by love, continued by desire.  
Oh help me now, for it will more redound  
unto thy praise to save, than to confounded.  
Alas, alas, I suffer not alone,  
Others are wronged; for why, my grieving moan  
Hath shown my torments so perspicuously,  
That divers meaning for to love, do fly  
From love with speed, fearing alas to be  
scorched with the fire of discourtesy.  
Then since itis thus,( thou wonder of our times)  
Repent thee of thy former passed crimes;  
sweet I beseech thee, these thy faults amend,  
And with thy kindness cherish me thy friend.  
I do not know what reason that you have  
Not to be served, when all others crave  
For to possess those things which you refuse,  
And with their wills, what you forsake, would choose▪  
It is most easy for to know, that I  
Have far more want, nay, more necessity  
Of thy assistance, than thou hast desire  
That I should serve thee; or to quench the fire  
Of my hot sufferings. Oh, how is my heart  
suppressed with tortures, and afflicting smart!  
What rude encounters, what assaults have I  
With-stood with courage through my constancy!  
What cruel combats has my fainting hope  
delivered me! how hath my faith ta'en scope  
For to assault me! that to thee 'tis known,  
They have my health impaired, and overthrown.  
Alas, alas, is't possible for me  
With words to utter( fairest) unto thee  
The perturbations that I have endured  
Within my mind, in no wise to be cured  
But by thy aid? could this effected be,  
How wouldst thou blame thyself for harming me.  
Oh never man endured such a cross!  
Oh, never man joyed less hap, more loss!  
Oh never yet so great a memory  
Did with Oblivion insepulted lie.  
Thus my affection, linked with disdain,  
Sends Death unto me with a world of pain:  
This I would let thee Lady understand,  
That you henceforward may your will command  
To right my wrongs, that so you in the end  
May prove my Mistris, and my dearest friend:  
And eke acquaint thee with the smarting pain  
And tedious torments that I do sustain,  
Thereby to show thee, that my constancy  
Maugre all tortures, yet did never die;  
Nor have I found myself to be as yet  
Weary of what you please on me t' inflict:  
For I have deemed my loss a prise to be,  
Since you have gained what was lost by me.  
Not is't without great reason, for if I  
Endure afflictions, your Sun-shaming eye  
Is cause of it, that superexc'lent grace,  
Which Nature lent to beautify thy face.  
Now since th'art certain of the love I bear  
To thee my Sweet, in all perfections rare,  
You'd injure reason, and injustice do  
unto my faith, if so be it that you  
Establish not new orders to your will,  
Restoring life to him you well nigh kill.  
Now that you may hereafter exercise  
works of Repentance, listen to my cries,  
And grant dear Lady, that I may inherit  
The happy favour, since it is my merit,  
To touch your faire hands with a reverend kiss,  
I crave no more, then Sweet now deign me this.  
Grant me this favour Lady, besides which  
I shall not dare no other to beseech:  
Yet if I should chance to transgress, confine  
Me to such tortures as you please: divine  
And glorious Lady, if I ever swerve,  
Let me be punished as I do deserve.   

Lucenda's Answer to Arnalte.  
HAd I Arnalte, but such fluent strains,  
Or high-tun'd words,( compacted by the pains  
Of sweet-tongu'd rhetoric) as thou dost express,  
Ingeniously I unto thee confess,  
I should have skill to answer thee as well,  
As thou hast Art, thy sorrows for to tell.  
Long since it is, since that thy presence and  
My shane assiege me with a well-train'd Band  
Of invitations, who do so oppose  
And ward themselves from my word-speaking blows,  
That they do drive me into such a strait,  
That I believe all aid will come too late;  
Being so confounded, and perplex't in mind,  
That no relief in any thing I find:  
Since that my famed hath gained so deep a wound,  
That Art, nor words can e're recure it sound.  
For though my ignorance do me acquit,  
Yet Reason checks me with her kerbing bit,  
And doth condemn me, since my honoured famed  
I've hazarded, and says I am too blame.  
Thou animat'st me that I should convert  
Thy sad disasters into pleasing mirth:  
I rather have more cause to mourn and grieve  
For my transgressions, than thee to relieve.  
Since what thou sufferest, it is sufferable,  
My honour causing't to be tolerable:  
For why th' offence, the which I perpetrate  
At this same instant, will precipitate  
My honour head long, or at least defame  
With foul disgrace my clear unspotted name,  
And thus the danger which doth threaten me,  
Since I forget myself, to speak with thee,  
May sooner to thy disadvantage chance,  
Than to thy profit, or thy gain t' enhance:  
For I do fear thou canst not silent be,  
Or bar thy lips with bolts of secrecy,  
Clouding the triumph which thou dost obtain  
In mists of silence, from the ear of famed.  
For oftentimes the joy that we conceive  
Of supposed favour, doth our hopes deceive;  
And so the tongue( too forward) doth express  
What th' heart with reason strives not to confess.  
Yet if you be so lavish, to report't,  
It's at my peril, and you'll scale the Fort  
Of my high-towring honour, and so rase  
That to the ground, which yet hath stood with praise.  
How have thy treaties gained the upper hand,  
That my resistance cannot them with-stand!  
What woman is there that believeth thee,  
But to herself she must disloyal be?  
Alas, alas, how danger doth attend  
us silly damsels, if our ears we lend  
To mens persuasions, whose beginnings we,  
If wise we were, we should both shun and flee.  
Ah sad Lucenda, thou art now a slave,  
And you Arnalte, name of Victor have:  
But yet beware, lest that too much glory  
Cause thee to loose through th' extreme of joy  
That which with grief, with sorrow, & with pain,  
With sighs, with sobs, thou now of me dost gain.  
Take notice how that secrecy doth heal,  
That which report doth wound, if he reveal.  
Thou dost entreat that thou my hands mayst kiss,  
I am contented, but provided this,  
You do not think that I do it permit  
Through vain conceit, presumptuous pride, nor yet  
From any merit, that I dare to claim  
unto myself, and that you will refrain  
Henceforth to urge me, or solicit more  
With irksome treaties, as y'have heretofore;  
And let thy Sister now a Testate be,  
Who hath already done so much for thee,  
That she hath gained me so far to transgress  
The bounds of Reason, that I do express  
myself s'oblivious, that I now do act  
That which I do, in word, in dead, and fact.   

Arnalte to the Traveller.  
SCarce had Lucenda ended this her talk,  
But that the hour forced us for to walk:  
For't came to pass, so many people ran  
Into the Church, that both of us were fain  
For to depart; yet not without the grace  
Which faire Lucenda did to me vouchsafe;  
For she permitted my rude lips totouch  
Her faire white hands, more white than snow unsmucht.  
My Sister then, and I, we bad fare-well,  
And so return'd, each where we used to dwell.  
And now dread Jove I unto record call;  
Might I have had the choicest of all  
The Worlds rich wealth, and be engaged to lose  
The hap I purchase't, I would it refuse:  
This to affirm I do summon in  
All constant Lovers, who have tossed been  
In Cupids Blanket, for they know full well,  
That such a favour doth all wealth excel.  
Thus did I part content; my sister then  
Seeing me gain my pristine health again,  
With all essays endeavoured t'entertaine  
My new delights to ratify my pain;  
Desiring me that I would then repair  
Into the country for to take the air,  
For she'de a house of pleasure, which did lie  
Not far from Thebes, for it was hard by.  
To this her motion I did soon consent,  
And then as soon we on our journey went.  
Where when arrived, I found the place to be  
Seated by Natures careful industry,  
very commodious for th'exercise  
Of healthful hunting;( which some men do prise  
Above all sports) this moved me cause my men  
Bring me some Birding-Peeces, that( friend) then  
I might essay, what with th' agitation  
Of that same pastime, and its recreation,  
For to recover my decayed health,  
Which sad affliction had o'rethrowne by stealth  
Now while I so journ'd with my sister dear,  
Shee feasted me, and made me such good cheer,  
That in a short space I did there regain  
My manly colour, and my strength again.  
But on a day that I resolved to ride  
Abroad a hunting, just as I would stride  
My horse's back, divers sad auguries  
Did then appear unto my wondering eyes,  
Which did presage, and eke denounce my fate,  
My future ruin, and its wretched state:  
For suddenly the Heavens, that were clear,  
Faire, bright, and calm, straightways did appear  
Tempestuous, cloudy, wind and rain did fly  
With stormy rage, and darkness veiled the sky:  
Also a Grey-hound, which I much did prise,  
ran 'twixt my legs, & there yelpt forth such cries  
And horrid howlings, that they did confounded  
M'amazed sences with their bawling sound.  
Yet I alas, who made but small account  
Of such predictions, on my stead did mount:  
Nor all those lets could not my purpose stay,  
But with my hawk upon my fist away  
Into the fields I rod, where scarcely I  
Had ' gun my quest, but then immediately  
I called to mind that it was long ago  
Since I had seen the Gentleman, of whom  
I have already spoken; and that since I  
Had shown to him the love and loyalty.  
And dear affection which I always bear  
unto Lucenda, he no more did care  
T' associate me, but by degrees did shun  
My company, or where I used to come;  
Nor ne're came nigh me where I used to dwell,  
Or once enquired, were I ill or well,  
Ceasing to be so courteous, or so kind,  
As formerly I did his friendship find.  
No spark of goodness in his breast did shine,  
Towards me all friendship did in him decline:  
But 'cause I knew it was the proper kind  
Of divers men who have a wavering mind,  
Not to be constant to their friends, but sickle,  
For as they please, they can love much or little;  
It moved me think that he had gained a touch  
Of that infection, poisoned with too much  
Ignoblenesse, which was the special cause  
Of his non-servance of kind friendships laws.  
And then again I thought ' tmight sooner be  
That Light●ings flamme should blast Apollo's three,  
Than that he'd suffer that I should endure  
The least of torments, if he could me cure.  
Whilst thus I mused the depth of truth to sound,  
My hawk fell down stark dead unto the ground;  
Which sudden chance did strait ways multiply  
The doubts I had of Yerso's loyalty:  
For suddenly my heart it was surprised  
With grievous startings, and assaults: beside,  
I did remember how my well-shaped Hownd  
Had whined that morning, groveling on the ground.  
Then thus disturbed, I did resolve to speed  
back to my Sister, mounted on my stead;  
But as I road, I found myself to be  
Vpon a Mount, whence I might plainly see  
Lucenda's Mansion, which did fairly lie  
unto the prospect of my almsgiving eye;  
And also heard the noise and perfect sound  
Of drums and Haubois, which did there rebound  
Their pleasant Echoes 'gainst the Mountaines, and  
The neighbouring Hills, that there did proudly stand,  
Rearing their heads in such a lofty wise,  
As if they meant to parley with the skies.  
This seemed strange unto my listening ear,  
For it agreed not with the time of year  
To use such pastime: thus I wax't far more  
Pensive, and sad, than e're I was afore,  
Growing most jealous of my future loss,  
Since that my fortunes proved to be so cross.  
Well, there I stayed so long for to descry  
The house, from whence those merry Tones did fly,  
That Night o're-tooke me in her Ebon-Coach,  
E're to my Sister I could then approach,  
Who was accustomed daily for to wait  
My coming, at the entrance of her gate,  
There to embrace me; but at that same Tide  
My dearest Sister did not for me bide,  
Which did renew again my past distrust,  
And then alas, this of all was worst:  
I being entered, to the Chamber come  
Where she did sit, she seemed to me as dumb;  
A word she spake not, but did sadly look,  
As if all joy had her heart forsook.  
This did amaze me, and I marvail'd much:  
For since her silence unto me was such,  
I durst not ask her ought, doubting to hear  
By her discourse the news I much did fear.  
But yet at length I could not so contain  
myself with silence, or from words refrain,  
But that I asked her whence it did arise  
That she sate drooping in that mournful wise:  
At this the flood-gates of her teare-drown'd eyes  
Burst ope through fury of her weeping cries:  
From whence such streams of chrystal-teares did flow,  
That to a deluge they began to grow;  
Whose inundations did o'erflow so high,  
That they did stop her passage of reply,  
So that she could not answer me, until  
Those floods were sunk, that then amain did swell;  
But drying up those tears which trickled down,  
Whose gushing Torrents did her eyes e'en drown,  
She did declare, how at that present tide,  
Lucenda was the faire espoused Bride  
Of youthful Yerso, who I ever deemed  
My faithful friend, for so he always seemed.  
And that as then she did to me relate  
As she did hear, they still did celebrate  
The nuptial Banquets, and the custom'd Rites  
With masks, with revels, and such used delights.  
When this I heard, I do protest my friend,  
I thought my life would strait have ta'en an end:  
For my poor heart was suddenly assailed  
By woes Armado, that my spirits failed;  
Which so amazed me, that a long while I  
Stood mute, and dumb, nor could a word reply.  
Thus were the signs presig'd unto me shown,  
And eke the noise I heard unto me known;  
Which so disturb me, that I in the place  
So rudely fell, groveling on my face;  
That those who then were present, did esteem  
I was intranst, for so I then did seem.  
But then as soon as I could breath again,  
I took all Letters, subscribed with the name  
Of faire Lucenda; nay, I did not leave  
One single line which I of her received,  
But tore them all in that same raging vain:  
Then growing wild, through fury of my pain,  
I being lost, and void of further hope,  
despair I welcomed, who did soon take scope  
For to inflame me with ten thousand thoughts,  
Which in my brains a strange distraction wrought,  
So that I did unroote my Beard, and tare  
From off my head whole handfuls of my hair:  
Although such actions( friend) I must confess  
seem womanish, and weakness'e do express;  
Yet blind-fold Love doth by his laws confine  
To such extremes his servants many times:  
Then some daies past, and that the consolation  
Of my dear sister, with her mild persuasion  
Had in some sort assuaged my anxious grief,  
And by her care had tendered me relief,  
I gave a special order unto those  
Who waited one me to wear mourning clothes.  
soon after which, a damsel to me came  
That served Lucenda, that Angelicke Dame:  
It was the maid in whom she did repose  
Great confidence, and durst to her disclose  
Her private secrets, and moreover rest  
Her inward thoughts within her trusty breast;  
Who certified me in her Mistris name,  
How that her Lady was enforced and fain  
To undergo that marriage, and that she,  
More through theirksome importunity,  
And urgent treaties of her Parents,( who  
claimed her obeisance as their proper due)  
Than of her own consent, or proper will  
She was constrained t'imbrace him vel or nile.  
Having a long while heard her patiently,  
And satisfied her, she did homeward hye:  
But you must know that she rescounter'd me,  
Clad with a gown of black,( which did agree  
In outward show, unto my inward grief)  
About whose hembe( because I will be brief)  
These Lines and Letters were embroydred round,  
Which being red, this meaning forth did sound.  
Tell her that since that she hath choose to be  
unto her Captive a submissive slave,  
I do intend my life henceforth to save,  
Living because she hath vouchsafed it me.  
This Gentlewoman well advised and wise,  
Had great compassion of my mourning cries;  
And you must think she was instructed by  
Her honoured Mistris, for to have an eye  
As well to mark the habit that I wore,  
As to observe me how I did deplore;  
Which moved her glance upon my rob her eye,  
Where in a moment she did soon spy  
The Lines embroydred, whose conceit in mind  
Shee well remembered, and then went to find  
Her Dame Lucenda, leaving me as mad  
At Yerso's treason, as my heart was sad  
A their late marriage, of which when I thought,  
Such an impression in my soul it wrought,  
That I concluded for to challenge him  
To combat with me, that before the King,  
And all the world, he truly might confess  
His treacherous dealing, and perfidiousness:  
Which to effect, a Challenge I did sand,  
The words of which did to this purpose tend.   

Arualte's Challenge to Yerso.  
YErso, because that every one may know  
Th'ignoblenesse, I do intend to show,  
How faithless that thy lying drifts have been,  
With which in secret I've abused been:  
Therefore in public I will manifest  
unto the world thy base perfidiousness;  
Because henceforth thy punishment may be  
A president unto eternity.  
And for to punish justly thy offence,  
Th'uncourteous actions, and base insolence,  
I hope to vanquish, and to overcome  
Thee with my hands; as also with my tongue  
To use such words as shall thee quiter defame,  
And overthrow thee to thy utter shane.  
But to the end that none may thee excuse,  
yourself shall judge how you have me abused:  
Revolve unto thyself and call to mind  
How long itis since unfeigned love did bind  
So strict a league betwixt us, that we swore  
To be companions, faithful evermore.  
Remember too, how for a long while we  
Have mutual been, with seemed fidelity,  
Bearing a love so pious to each other,  
That as two brethren we loved one another.  
By which conjunction thinking that thou wert  
faithful and loyal, of a noble heart;  
My inward thoughts I have to thee revealed,  
My private secrets I have not concealed.  
And amongst many th'affection that I bare  
unto Lucenda, in perfections rare,  
In which thou didst uphold me, promising  
For to assist me, that I might her win:  
Oh then thou spakst even as an impious slave,  
For that thou mightst defraud me: Sir you have  
By divers ways, and sundry means expressed,  
You were content to further my request,  
Plything thy faith, that albeit that she  
Thy Lady were, that yet for love of me  
Thou wouldst refrain to serve her, that I might  
Purchase th' enjoyment of my sweet delight;  
which I believed so long, until th'event  
Did show the issue of thy bad intent:  
For closely juggling thou hast tane to wife  
My dearest Mistris, dearer than my life,  
The right usurping, with the recompense  
Of all my travails, contrary to sense:  
By doing which, thou art not onely grown  
My enemy, but likewise art thy own:  
At which I marvel, and do wonder much,  
For well I know thy knowledge it is such,  
That thou art witting, how that virtue, and  
The works of friendship do united stand:  
Yet nevertheless before thou wouldst take heed,  
Thou hast committed this ignoble dead,  
soiling thy honour, spotting of thy famed,  
Blasting by teason thy renowned name,  
Waxing so differ'nt from the noble parts,  
And worthy virtues, lodged within the hearts  
Of thy fore-fathers, as unto the sight  
The black doth vary from the purest white.  
But to the end that thou mayst speedily  
Receive disgrace for thy base treachery:  
I let thee know,( perjured as thou art)  
That I will slay thee, and transpierce thy heart  
With those same weapons that you shall allot,  
And cut in two the Gordian knitted knot  
Of thy base life, casting thee forth the field,  
Or else enforce thee humbly for to yield  
thyself my prisoner, causing thee confess  
Th'ignoble action of thy wickedness:  
For jove assisting, with my hands and thy▪  
Persidious, base, dishonest villainy  
I shall revenge and wreak the injury  
And base affronts which thou hast offered me:  
Therefore appoint what arms we shall use,  
As 'tis the custom, sand me no excuse:  
For having heard thy Answer, I'll assign  
The Field, the day, and meet thee at the time.   

Yerso's Answer to Arnalte's Challenge.  
ARnalte, I thy challenge have received,  
And by the Lecture the Contents perceived.  
And eke according unto what you say,  
If so be it that Fortune led the way,  
And that th'event do prove as advantageous,  
As thy affronting words do seem outrageous▪  
I shall account, if such good hap you have,  
myself your vassal, and submissive slave,  
tendering to thee the name and worthy praise  
Of a brave Victor, give thee up the bays.  
But soft, but soft, this current that doth run  
Within your brain, so strongly I will turn  
Another way, and quiter divert its course:  
For in my hands you shall not find less force,  
Than I do relish that thy words do taste  
Of base aspersion, and black-mouthed disgrace:  
Prate on, prate on, for as I may repute,  
It's you must babble, I must execute.  
Thus shall thy arrogance and swelling pride,  
Because that strangers, and moreo're beside  
Thy Friends and Kindred scarcely shall bemoan  
What I inflict upon thee, no not one,  
Since 'twere injustice if thou shouldst not feel  
The Death you merit, from my pointed steel;  
That by that death thou mightst receive a true  
And just chastisement, as to thee is due.  
Thou dost prepose unto the end that my  
Transgressions may be known perspicuously,  
I should remember of the mutual love  
Frequent betwixt us, how we daily striven  
T' exceed each other in our courtesies,  
Loving each other as we loved our eyes;  
Trusting in which thou didst communicate  
Thy secrets to me, and thy private state.  
True, I confesse't, nor in the least will I  
palliate, dissemble, or the truth deny,  
For so I should the bounds of truth transgress,  
And injure reason, and all vertuousnesse.  
Thus if thou hadst not publicly disgraced  
My honour basely, in some private place  
I would have satisfied thee, and at large  
Have cleared myself of ought laid to my charge.  
And sure I am that after that you should  
Have heard me speak, Arnalte then you would  
Have reckoned me rather for to be  
Thy loyal friend, than faithless unto thee:  
Since more for safety of thy health and life,  
Than for my pleasure I have ta'en to wife  
The faire Lucenda, hoping then thereby  
To end thy torments and thy miseries:  
For seeing that thou wert not like to live  
Any long while, but subject still to grieve,  
I held it for the best to act and do  
What I have done, unto the end that you  
Having no future hope, mightst strive to gain  
Thy former strength and pristine health again.  
But since th'intents do justly justify,  
Or else condemn one worthy for to die,  
unto my thoughts I do myself refer,  
For I am sure my love did never err:  
Yet since the truth ought sooner for to be  
maintained by actions, than loquacity,  
The judgement shall surcease until the day  
Of Execution Phoebus shall display.  
Then shalt thou see what thou hadst gained, if that  
Thou hadst not prated this reproachful chat;  
And what thou'st lost, since thou hast wronged me  
By the aspersions of thy obloquy:  
For by my right and thy base puffing pride  
It shall be judged, and very plainly tried.  
But since with thee I would not much dispute,  
But purpose fiercely for to execute,  
I do advice thee that thou shalt recant,  
And eat thy words as a base recreant:  
Which to accomplish, I select and choose  
The proper arms that men at arms use;  
We will be armed as men at arms be,  
A cap, a pe, complete in each degree:  
Onely our right arms they shall be excepted,  
For they shall naked be, and quiter detected.  
Our lances equal, each two Swords apiece,  
Our Horses barb'd with Front-stalls, Crannets, these  
The weapons are, now when you will, you may  
Appoint the field, the hour, and the day;  
For by the aid of him who ought to be  
Judge 'twixt my wrongs and thy partiality,  
I hope to slay thee, or to win the field,  
And Victor-like enforce thee for to yield.   

Arnalte to the Traveller.  
NOw since the arms were denoted, I  
Did straightways go to the Kings Majesty,  
Informing him exactly of what had  
Past betwixt Yerso and myself,( most sad)  
So that he hearing th ' infidelity  
Of my past friend, then grown my enemy,  
It seemed so strange to him that he did yield  
At my request to grant us both the field.  
Then on the day assigned, Yerso and I,  
We did appear before his Majesty,  
He having caused a Scaffold for to be  
Built and erected, that he there might see  
Who should be Master of the field, and gain  
A glorious conquest, to maintain his famed:  
Then having viewed our arms, which his Grace  
Found very equal, th'oath used in that case  
Being delivered, and that the Heralds they  
Had gi'ne the signal to the field, away  
With speed we hasted for to take our course,  
Running against each other with such force,  
That the rude shock, of our rescounter did  
express what love was in our bosoms hide:  
But Yerso then being as fortunate,  
As a good Horse-man he did penetrate  
My naked arm with his pointed steel,  
With which being wounded, I great pain did feel;  
But as for my part, I had no such chance,  
I onely counterbuft him with my Lance  
Vpon the viser of his Helmet bright;  
Yet did I not direct the stroke so right;  
But that I mist to wound him with the thrust.  
Thus by we road, our launces being burst,  
Which flew to shivers, lying scattered round  
Vpon the verdant grass and trampled ground.  
Our Staves thus broken, we quickly did betake  
us to our keen-edg'd Swords, that they might make  
Good what our spears had failed of their pretence:  
Then fiercely driving we did both commence  
A fray so bloody, that the Crimson gore  
Did trickle down upon the grass all-o're,  
thundering our blows with fury violent,  
That through our armor they a passage rent,  
To make a way unto our vital parts,  
That unawares they might surprise our hearts.  
We sliced our Shields, we clavae our Helmets bright,  
And were so eager on our bloody fight,  
That the Spectators weary were to see  
The combat last so long; as also we  
Grew faint with striking and through loss of blood,  
Which flowed from us like a purple flood.  
But to be brief, I gained the victory,  
And Yerso vanquished at my feet did lie:  
By which his Treason plainly was proclaimed,  
And my just right and innocence maintained.  
Yet howsoever Yerso did disdain  
A life of alms, rather would maintain  
His famed and honour by a warlike death,  
Than by recanting to reprieve his breath,  
And live dishonoured to his utter shane.  
Lucenda thus a widow did remain,  
And I victorious: then th'assembly gone,  
With speed I hasted to my private home;  
Where while I lay with wholesome means to cure  
Those smarting wounds, the which I did endure,  
I was advertised that Lucenda, she  
Bewaild the loss she had obtained by me:  
And with great sorrow moan'd the timeless death  
Of her slain husband, whose perfidious breath  
I had exhaled; now that she might give o'er  
Her lamentations, and no more deplore  
His deserved death, I did resolve to proffer  
My service to her, and more-o're to offer  
If't should be pleasing to her, to supply  
The place of Yerso with more constancy,  
And be her Husband, she my honoured wife,  
Who I would cherish rather than my life.   

A Letter of Arnalte to Lucenda.  
mirror of Women, Natures chiefest jewel,  
Oh thou whose eyes are wanton Cupids fuel,  
Beauties Idea, sweet perfections grace,  
For all perfections harbour in thy face.  
Pardon my faults, oh do not on me frown,  
But with thy favour my expectance crown:  
Deny me not thy mercy, but vouchsafe  
For to protect me, and to keep me safe.  
I must confess that I have iniur'd thee;  
Yet have compassion on my misery:  
And Lady, though for peace I intercede  
In time of war, or for thy pitty pled,  
Let me entreat thee that thou wilt not take  
It in ill part, since I this suite do make:  
Rather t' esteem thy virtue than the crime  
That's perpetrated 'gainst thee most divine  
And glorious creature; for your eyes they have  
A secret power how to kill or save.  
Then since it in your gracious power doth lie  
To kill, or save; oh help, or else I die.  
As for the chance that lately did befall  
Thy much less Husband, I great jove do call  
To witness, how it grieves me; for why, best  
He knows what thoughts do harbour in my breast  
Yet though it grieve me for the sake of him,  
Sweets in respect of thee 't has pleasing been:  
For had I not( faire love) offended thee,  
Thou couldst not, couldst not have absolved me,  
showing the virtue of forgiving, which  
Most brightly doth thy purest mind enrich.  
Now to the end it may be manifest,  
And to the world perspicuously expressed  
That thou forgiv'st me, let thy sorrows be  
governed by reason, not extremity.  
If otherwise thou dost lament or plain,  
Thou'lt tax thy credit, and receive great blame.  
Oh then, oh then deny me not this pleasure,  
By far transcending India's golden treasure:  
Since by the purchase we may both remain  
Content, and I for ever freed from pain;  
showing thy pitty and thy mercy to  
The man, to whom thou oughtst for pardon sue.  
Alas, alas, I know thou art so sad,  
That I do doubt to gain, in that regard,  
The hap I wish for; since that in the time,  
When as thou wert more likely to be mine  
Than now thou art, I never could arrive  
unto the port to which my thoughts did drive;  
Although, dear heart, I felt more stronger gailes  
From thy mild favours, which imbreath'd my sails;  
Yet howsoe'er I vow ne're to require  
That thing of thee which you shall not desire:  
For should my pains enforce me to transgress,  
My fears shall strait oppose my wilfulness;  
Yet if you will direct your course, and sail  
By Reasons compass, you will hardly fail  
T' account yourself rather a foe to be  
unto yourself, than not a friend to me.  
For say I've slain thy husband: why his death  
Hath stopped the passage but of one mans breath:  
But you, who have so many murdered, ne're  
Didst yet repent, or  shed for one a tear.  
Thus think of me, as thou wouldst others have  
To judge of thee, although I am thy slave;  
Which if you grant, I soon shall feel m' offence  
To be remitted with large recompense.  
Thy deceased husband hath so wounded me,  
That of my health the Doctors disagree;  
Yet spite of Fortune, or her utmost hate,  
Or all th' afflictions of my cruel fate,  
I dread no danger, for my outward smart  
Is far unlike the sufferings of my heart:  
For 'tis long since( dear love) that Cupids dart,  
Headed with thy bright eyes, have pierced my heart,  
And made so large an Orifice, that those  
Grand wounds I suffered from the smarting blows  
Of vanquished Yerso, seem, alas, to be  
But petty scratches, wholly disagree  
From the condition of my inward pain,  
Whose cruel tortures doth my heart inflame  
With burning ardour, that it doth exceed  
My outward hurts; for loves doth inward bleed.  
Thus I do muster daily in my brain  
Ten thousand thoughts; I also entertain  
As many fancies, which my thoughts control,  
Whose sudden discord wracks my wavering soul:  
Yet 'mongst so many, there's but one, the which  
Doth my sad heart with future hope enrich:  
Which Ile reveal, unto the end that my  
Most constant faith, and faithful loyalty  
May be most certain; yet( sweet friend) before  
I do rehearse it, let me thee implore,  
For to consider that it is in vain,  
To think by tears thy husband to regain:  
For what death seizes with his mortal hand,  
It's merely lost, no force can him withstand:  
For 'tis most certain, neither art or skill,  
Honour, or goodness, can prevent the ill  
Of our malignant stars, nor birth, or state  
Divert the Omen of our dying Fate.  
Therefore ne're hope for to recall to life  
Yerso, to whom thou lately wert a wife,  
But rather take my counsel, and replant  
That love in me, which you to him did grant:  
For since I've tane him from thee, if you please  
I will be yours, and your griefs appease,  
Yet if his love hath so blind-folded thee,  
Or so obscured your judgement, not to see  
How I deserve, or think I am not fit  
T' enjoy thy love, nor that I merit it:  
Oh be not so opiniate, nor believe  
Thy judgement so, but let some others give  
Thee better counsel, for alas I doubt  
Yerso's sad chance hath chac'd all reason out:  
Then shall you see how your resolves agree  
With your friends counsels, as concerning me.  
Yet, under favour, I must tell you, that  
He doth deserve, who hath had such good hap  
And power to vanquish him, who had the name  
Of thy dear husband, justly for to claim  
All rights and titles which he did possess,  
enjoying thee, thou cause of my distress.  
As for my birth, my honour, or my stare,  
My parentage, it's needless to relate:  
In vain it were rare Paragon to show't,  
Since you faire love as well as I do know't,  
Then if the merits of my travels have  
Not yet deserved the favour that I crave,  
Which is to have thee for to be my Wife,  
And fairest Spouse, who ever as my life  
I mean to cherish, you yourself shall be  
The faithful judge betwixt yourself and me:  
For well I know that thou most certain art,  
That for to love thee, I have felt much smart,  
Loathing my life, since I could never gain  
A recompense to ratify my pain.  
Now if you please some succour for to lend,  
I do entreat you will your Answer sand.   

Arnalte to the Traveller.  
MY Missive ended, I my Sister caused  
To come unto me, who as sorry was  
To see my hurts, as she was glad that I  
Had gained the honour and the victory:  
Yet howsoever it did grieve her much  
That Yerso's chance did fall out to be such.  
Then at her coming I did strait repeat  
My resolution, and I did entreat  
Her to advice me; then did she reply,  
She wondered at my bold audacity:  
Yet howsoe'er, since it might expiate  
The influence of my prodigious fate,  
She took my Letter, and away she hied  
unto Lucenda, who no sooner spied  
My Sister, but sh' entreated her to be  
At those same Nuptials that were caused by me.  
My Sister then she knew not what she meant,  
But afterwards she saw it by th' event:  
For at that time her friends and kindred were  
Assembled all for to conduct and bear  
Her company to a religious house,  
Which she had choose to celebrate her vows,  
And to reside the remnant of her dayes,  
Singing sad Dirges and lamenting lays.  
My Sister then arrived at that time,  
desired to see th' event of their design,  
Which happened thus Lucenda,( with her friends  
My Sister following to observe their ends)  
Being arrived, and to the covent come,  
There took the Order of a hooded nun.  
But 'cause till then my Sister could not find  
A sit convenience for to show her mind,  
Taking occasion by the fore-top, she  
'Gan show Lucenda what was sent by me:  
But she no sooner heard my name, but from  
My faithful Sister in a rage she flung,  
Calling the abbess, to whom she did relate,  
She was not entered through her arched gate  
Into her house, for to consent that she,  
Who was the Sister of her enemy,  
And mortal foe, should have the liberty  
To importune her with her urgency.  
Which when my Sister heard, she speedily  
Departed thence, and home to me did hye,  
Striving t' obscure and to palliate  
The sid report of my most cruel fate:  
Yet nevertheless distrust did soon detect  
Her feigned fictions, which I did suspect.  
Ah where's that Lover that e're had the like  
Disgrace, and craved not thin-chop'd death to strike  
Him to the heart? which I had soon obtained,  
Had not my friends perforce my life maintained.  
Thus hope fled from me, nor no means was left  
To comfort me, of joy I was bereft:  
Then knowing not where to have refuge, I  
turned to great jove, whom most submissively  
I did beseech with prayers, for to deign  
His gracious pitty to redress my pain,  
But for my sins and former wickedness,  
He gave no ear unto my sad request:  
Thus gaining no ease, neither from jove above,  
Nor of the world, or of the blind-god Love,  
I did resolve to go unto some place  
So solitary, that being there, my face  
No mortal man should e're behold again,  
There to condole my torment & my pain.  
This when my Sister heard, it did so fright  
Her tender heart, as if some horrid sight  
Had stood before her; thus amazed she,  
Weeping extremely hasted unto me,  
Casting herself there prostrate on the ground,  
Then at my feet these words she did propound.   

Belisa to her Brother Arnalte.  
I Know dear Brother, that you do intend  
To take a journey shortly, to an end  
So strange, that's onely for to quench the flash  
Of your light humour; for it is so rash  
And unadvised, that you do express  
yourself quiter voided of Reasons solidness.  
Alas, alas, I do beseech thee for  
fellows glorious sake, thou wilt this thought abhor,  
chase forth thy mind these wandring fantasies,  
press them to death, that they no more may rise  
up in rebellion: Oh be not conscious that  
Report may scatter a reproachful chat  
To thy disgrace; but let it be thy care  
That slander do not thy true worth impair.  
Consider too, that those who shall take note  
Of thy departure, that they will report  
That more for fear of Yerso's kindred, then  
Through loves sad anguish thou art fled from men.  
Have a pre-sight to all mishaps that may  
Through selfe-opinion wrong thee any way;  
And weigh their ends, lest when it is too late  
You do repent, and curse your wilful fate;  
For 'tis most frequent, when the means is gone,  
That then Repentance swiftly cometh on:  
Then do not seek to cloud thy honoured famed  
In a strange absence, or undo thy name.  
If this prevail not, call to mind, if you  
Leave me alone, alas, what shall I do?  
For well you know my honour is conserved  
By the rare worth long since by thee deserved.  
Thus if you leave me, I shall be esteemed  
Rather a stranger, than henceforth be deemed  
A Thebian damsel; ah dear brother hast  
Thou kist Oblivion, or of Lethe taste,  
That thou forget'st that death did snatch away  
Our honoured parents( now involved in day)  
The last great Plague, he being summoned in  
By the three Sisters, one of whom doth spin,  
The other reels, the third cuts with a Knife  
The fatal thread of mans uncertain life:  
Yet nevertheless I still enjoying thee,  
Have deemed myself as well allied to be  
As e're I was, as also for to have  
As many friends, as when the dungeon-grave  
Did ne're enclose one to our blood affin'd:  
For they being dead, their love in you I find.  
dost not consider that you much do loose,  
If you th' acquaintance of your friends refuse?  
Remember how the King hath bread thee, and  
look on the country, and observe the Land  
Which you forsake: behold th'abundant store  
Of wealth and riches that you leave, before  
You take this course so contrary to sense,  
That all will blame you if you do commenc't.  
believe me brother, and be cautious too  
To act those things that may redound unto  
Thy disadvantage, for the mountaines can  
Not there commend thee for a worthy man;  
The fierce wild beasts, that range the fields for food,  
Can not distinguish 'twixt the bad and good:  
Nor have the Birds the judgement or the Art  
To consolate thy sad distressed heart.  
Who then shall praise thy Feats of Chivalry,  
Or blaze thy famed above the starry sky,  
Or moan the time that you spend there in vain,  
Instead of striving to achieve and gain  
Transcendent honour and deserved praise  
In bloody battles and in Princely frays?  
Hast thou forgot that the most noble kind  
Of generous spirits and heroic minds,  
do enterprise the things most intricate,  
Though death & danger on their purpose wait?  
If this persuade not, why, at leastwise think,  
How your past acts, and renowned famed will sink  
down to the bottom of the Lethean Lake,  
If this your journey you do undertake.  
Say that distress or sickness should befall  
You in that desert, on whom could you call  
For some assistance? Oh ther's none to bear  
In thy afflictions the least part or share:  
Then is't not better that you should abide  
In this your country, and henceforth reside  
With those with home you ever used to live?  
Being so wise, not desp'rately to give  
thyself to ruin: but forsake th'intent  
To live with Beasts in pensive banishment,  
Where none can help thee, or thy wants supply.  
And you being absent, where alas shall I  
Bestow myself? to whom shall I complain,  
When as the friends of Yerso( by thee slain)  
Shall terrify me, and upbraid my famed,  
Casting aspersions on my honoured name?  
Ah brother, brother, for his glorious sake,  
Who with a word the universe did make,  
Moderate thy sorrow, and assuage thy grief,  
Comfort thyself, and deign thyself relief.   

Arnalte to Belisa.  
I Have dear sister plainly understood  
What you have  told me for my future good:  
For which I thank thee, yet let my reply.  
Assure thee that most consid'ratly  
I have premeditated on each word,  
The which your goodness did to me afford;  
And in the thought of that imagination,  
Each point disturbs me with a vehement passion;  
So that they jointly have surprised my heart  
With far worse pangsthan raw-bon'd death doth dart;  
For anxious grief within my breast took place,  
And swam in tears, which did o'erflow my face.  
And this dear sister, most especially  
I have endured for thy sake: for why,  
All other torments I can lightly bear;  
But as concerning thee I much do care,  
For you I grieve; I do not moan the smart,  
Which Vulture-like still preys upon my heart:  
I disesteem it in respect of thee,  
For why loves warrant hath delivered me.  
Thus I shall be perhaps excused by some,  
And eke enforced to undergo the doom  
Of divers others; let 'em speak and spare not,  
In this respect, alas, alas I care not:  
For the pure virtue which is truly known,  
Cannot be injured, or disgraced by none;  
Thus shall th' opinions which are held of me,  
Prove most part false, and feigned for to be.  
Thou dost prepose that 'twill be thought 'mongst men,  
That more for fear of Yerso's kindred, then  
Through the afflictions of my torments, I  
do take this journey, and away do fly.  
Fearing I should receive the selfsame pay,  
Which I paid Yerso, when I did him slay.  
Oh think not so, but be thou confident,  
That ther's not one, who ever nobly meant,  
Or truly loved, as will imagine such  
A base conceit as may my honour smutch:  
For well they know the worth of valour bides  
Ever most constant where true love resides:  
And eke more-o're, I am not so unknown,  
But that my worth( of Fames loud Trumpet blown)  
It is sufficient to obscure and shrowded  
Such base reports in dark oblivions Cloud.  
Thou dost entreat me also to remember  
My goods, my servants, and my safety tender:  
As for my servants, I so think of them,  
That if ther's any that will follow, when  
I shall depart from this unpleasing place.  
Their company with thanks I will embrace,  
Rather t'express th' indulgent love I bear  
unto their kindness, or their friendly care,  
Than that I want or have necessity  
Of their assistance, or society.  
Now for my wealth and treasures, from this time  
You are their Mistris, for I make them thine;  
And for the rest, oh deem me not to be  
S'ignoble base, as that I would leave thee  
Alone, forlorn, desolate, and forsaken,  
Wretched, oppressed, but if, thou art mistaken:  
For e're we part, with care I will provide,  
That I may see thee, e're I go, a Bride  
joined to a husband, who shall still remain  
With thee( I absent) to maintain thy famed.  
And now I will one thing of thee require,  
And this it is; dear sister I desire  
That thou'lt take courage to thee; and that when  
I shall retire from the sight of men,  
Your lamentations put me to no trouble,  
Nor your bewailings my afflictions double.  
And lastly Sister; for I think 'twill be  
The last request I e're shall make to thee;  
Let me entreat thee that continually  
Thou'lt plain and tax Lucenda's cruelty;  
Ever remembering my untimely Fate,  
And utter ruin, caused by her hate:  
Yet if you see there's any likelihood,  
Or expectation for my future good,  
Or that she should repent her, and bemoan  
The ills I suffer, under which I groan  
With end less tortures; let that expiate  
Alone thy wrath, no other vengeance take:  
Since in this hap, the happy means doth lie,  
Tho which alone can gain my liberty.  
Thus I will cease to entertain your ears  
With my sad words, breathed out with sighs & tears,  
'Cause Ile avoid thy importunity,  
And fond objection of thy vain reply.  
At these my words my sisters tongue was tied,  
Her lips were bared, she never more replied  
One word or accent, the which might disswad:  
My resolution, or my breast invade  
With contra liction this my fixed intent  
She ne're essayd to alter, or prevent  
Then being healed of my wounds, I went  
unto the King, and shew'd him my intent,  
Beseeching him most friendly to bestow  
A husband on my sister, who might show  
Such constant friendship, and such mutual love,  
As doth the Turtle to the harmless Dove.  
This on his royal word he promised me  
For to accomplish: then thrice Noble he  
Having performed what I did require,  
And satisfied most nobly my desire,  
With urgent treaties importuned my stay,  
And disadvis'd me from so strange a way;  
Preposing to me that it was ill done,  
On this my course so rashly for to run,  
Leaving my country and my habitation,  
My goods, my sister, to court desolation:  
But since his will and mine did disagree,  
In our resolves there was no harmony:  
For the opinion which he did propound,  
On the same key, with mine they did not found;  
Thus, differing both in our opinions, I  
took my last leave, leaving his Majesty  
Sufficiently assured, that my will  
I would accomplish, and my mind fulfil.  
At which the King was so displeased, that he  
Would not vouchsafe his gracious leave to me:  
Yet nevertheless, casting all things aside  
Which may prevent me, though my friends decide  
The case, most strongly urging, how that I  
Did run the hazard of much misery:  
I weighed it not, or did I heed the cries  
Which ran like Rivers from the swollen eyes  
Of my sweet sister, intermixed with groans  
And sad laments, of force to soften stones.  
But after many loving Ceremonies,  
And kind fare-wells, I did with watery eyes  
Take my last leave of all my friends and kin,  
And then my journey I did strait begin,  
Which soon was spread abroad, and shrill report  
As soon had blazed it in the King his Court:  
Which being  told his Grace,( although my famed  
I must confess such honour could not claim)  
He did vouchsafe so far to honour me  
himself, and Nobles in their gallantry,  
As to conduct me onward in my way  
unto a place that from the City lay  
Some Furlongs distant: now excuse me friend,  
If to thy ears I do not recommend  
The words we had at parting, or else show  
The sighs & groans which from our hearts did flow,  
For without tediousness I cannot tell  
The passages which 'twixt us then befell:  
But let that pass, and know my weeping cries  
And brynie tears which trickled from the eyes  
Of my kind Sister, at that time did sever  
Both she and I, not for a time, but ever.  
And then the King and his attendants they  
Return'd to Court, I followed on my way;  
Continuing which, I soon did feel my smart  
To be disburden'd of much anxious smart:  
So that I found this course far to surpass  
My residence, which in rich Thebes was.  
For my misfortunes rather choose to bide  
With bears and lions, than for to reside  
Longer with men, endued with reason, though  
Their qualities a brutish difference show.  
Then having travelled many dayes, I found  
myself arrived by chance on this same ground,  
So desolate, so uncoth, so o're-growne,  
As thy hard passage unto thee hath shown.  
But having gained this sad, solitary,  
Rough, ragged mountain, being e'en a weary,  
Consid'ring of its private situation,  
resolved t'erect thereon this habitation  
Of such materials as might signify  
Lucenda's hatred and strange cruelty.  
Thus friend y'have heard the sum of all my grief,  
And how I've lived suppressed without relief:  
Thou also know'st what sad afflictions I  
Have undergone through my firm constancy;  
And eke what battles and assaults I have  
sustained for love, who used me as his slave.  
But now kind friend, if my Discourse hath stayed  
Thee from thy business; and likewise delayed  
Thy purposed journey, least wise if a man  
involved in woes and sorrows as I am,  
Have not deserved that thou shouldst troubled be  
In such a sort, as thou hast been by me:  
Let me beseech thee that thou wilt suspense  
Thy then just anger, and remit th' offence  
Of such a wretched caitiff, who must still  
Live fraught with sorrow and heart-killing ill.  
Moreover Sir, sith that thou dost intend,  
This day being past, to hasten to the end  
Of thy set journey, bear still in thy mind  
How thou hast pawned thy faith, and left behind  
A serious promise, justly to relate  
To courteous Ladies my most wretched state.  
Thus virtuous Ladies, our sad loving Knight  
His sad misfortunes did unto me recite,  
And eke discovered all such accidents,  
despairs, mischances, woes, and discontents  
As e're he suffered; now if I have proved  
As tedious to ye, as I left him moved  
With anxious passions, giving entertain  
To his heart-tort'ring martyrdom and pain:  
Yet if you please( rare ones) ye may dispense  
With your distastes, and pardon my offence;  
For I assure ye honoured Ladies, this  
Which I have done,( although perhaps amiss)  
Hath onely been t' obey and satisfy  
His sad requests and importunity:  
As also to discharge my promise, and  
Acquit my faith, which did engaged stand,  
Not to offend your ears, or else presume  
Your patiences with words to importune.  
Also I do repose and eke confided  
So great a trust and confidence beside  
On your good natures, that you will connive  
At my mistakes, & with your goodness strive  
For to supply my want and my default,  
Not once observing my ill-ordred talk:  
But the desire which I have, to show  
The service which unto your sex I owe:  
For it hath been the sole efficient cause,  
By which( Rare Ladies) I induced was,  
Rather t'incurre the taxes of sharp blame,  
Than in the least respect to dismaintaine  
Your more retyr'd Recreations, when  
ye shall repair unto your books, or Pen,  
cloyed with excess of far more choice delight,  
And pleasant pastime than I can recite:  
Besides, I credit that ye are endew'd  
With such bright-shining virtues, and infused  
With so much goodness, yea, so richly dressed  
With gracious pitty harboured in your breast,  
That the compassion which ye shall express  
For the ill-usage and the wretchedness  
Of our sad Lover, may perhaps invade  
Your gentle bosoms, and in fine persuade  
Your gracious selves t'accept then in good part  
This the rehearsal of his anxious smarts,  
Which I have published, being( Dames) confined  
Thereto by his command which did me bind,  
And eke incite ye to requited my pains  
With thanks, for why I seek no other gains.  
Likewise( ye best of women) that you'l deign  
To second him, so to with-stand his pain,  
Assisting him, thereby to undergo  
The weighty burden of his grievous woe,  
Taxing th'unkindnesse of this new-made Nun,  
The cruel Authresse of his martyrdom;  
Who through her desp'ratenes hath caused our Knight  
Who most entirely loved her, to delight  
In the acquaintance of ill-look't despair,  
And fellowship of heart-lamenting care;  
So that he hath retird, himself confined  
unto a place cohering with his mind;  
Alone sequestered, most recluse, where he  
daily expects heart-easing Death to free  
Him from his passions which torment his heart  
With endless tortures, and unheard of smart.  
Now ifs strange chance have not sufficient force  
T'infuse some pitty, or so me sad remorse  
Within your bosoms, yet he doth entreat  
( ye all by me) to harbour this conceit,  
That he doth rather cherish and maintain  
His immense torments and extremest pain,  
Since faire Lucenda therein doth delight;  
Than for to live in the most happiest plight,  
That ever any mortal man possessed,  
Since she denied him this true happiness.  
But yet he hopes through process of fleet time,  
Or through her virtues which most brightly shine,  
That shee'l forget the too fond foolish love  
Of her dead Husband, and at length remove  
All thought of him, and in the end confess  
That she hath wronged me with her churlishness.  
Now if this happy turn shall chance to fall,  
Ere Destiny for his faint breath shall call,  
He will remain content; or if it come  
When he possesses his time-lasting home,  
His spirit will rejoice, his joynt-falne bones  
Repose more softer, though inhum'd 'mongst stones:  
Thus you may see the hope with which I left  
The mournful Knight, of joy quiter bereft:  
And eke the end of his discourse, the which  
Although it be not copiously enriched  
With sweet-tun'd words, or high Cothurnick strains,  
composed by rhetoric, or inventions pains,  
Yet pray accept it; it may serve for want  
Of better matter,( which I know's not scant)  
To entertain your Suitors, when they be  
Familiar in your honoured company:  
unto whose virtues and your famous graces  
adorned I hope with more than common faces,  
myself and service I do recommend,  
And vow to be your Servant till my end.  
FINIS.