An excellent History both pithy and pleasant, Discoursing On the life and death of Charles and julia, two British, or rather Welsh lovers. No less delightful for variety, then tragical in their misery, not hurtful to youth, nor unprofitable to age, but commodious to both. By W. A.  
¶ Imprinted at London for Edward White, dwelling at the little North door of S. Paul's Church, at the sign of the Gun. 1581.   

¶ To the worshipful and his most approved friend, Master Henry Campyon: W. A. wisheth health and wealth of body, quietness and contentation of mind, in this life fullness of felicity, and in the life eternal true tranquillity.  
Having taken some pains (Worshipful Sir) to reduce this History into savoury verse, and taking Pen in hand to present you with the simple Dedication of the same, the gravity of your person, suddenly encountered my rash attempt, with such a hot assault of misdoubt, that I was forced to make a hasty retire into the Castle of deeper consideration, and having pondered with myself that the wise and painful Bee, sucketh Honey sometimes out of the wasteful weed, I gathered your Worship to have the like discresion in reading, that the Bee hath in choosing, and therefore I thought it not amiss, imitating the Physician, to mingle sometimes poison amid the pure Treackle, thereby to drive out one Nail with another, so that notwithstanding, my young brain do yield green fruit, to the taste of your mellowed years: yet being used well, it may redound both to your pleasure and profit. Though the green Apple being 〈◊〉, breeds crude and rotten 〈…〉 well roasted, it hurteth not the stomach, your Worship having now passed the fiery heat of youth, may in the happy state, of your lucky age, sit and smile at the vain bait of affections, which over ruleth the sway of youthful minds, and sigh at the sins which you were subject to, in the unsteadfast state of that unconstant age, which you shall aptly behold in these two lovers, by reading the contents of this my simple verse. Esteem the s●me I beseech you not as a requital of your deserts (which are many;) but as a remembrance of my good will (which is great) though my ability be small, who being so deeply and diversly indebted to your worship, thought every day a year, till some fruit of thankfulness did appear to spring, from the ground of my well willing mind. Thus committing you to the taste of these my simple Cates, which I wish as much to please your appetite in reading, as they did disease me in writing, I leave you to the tuition of the almighty, who grant to you and yours, more joys than I can wish, and yet my wishes more than I can perform.  
Yours in all freendely sort to command. W. Auerell.   

❧ To the courteous and friendly Reader.  
GEntle reader, I shall not need with superfluous praises to commend unto thee, either the pleasure or profit thou mayst take in perusing this strange and lamentable History, let the meat be seen in the man, the Tree in his fruit, the Flower in his scent, the cloth in his wool, and the Wine in his taste, Nam vino vendibili nihill opus est suspensa haedera, which being saleable, needs no ivy Garland, yet herein mayst thou see the vanity of youth, the corruption of nature, the unsteadfastness of Fortune, the faithfulness of friendship: but especially the punishment, that God showeth upon those wanton children, which without consent of their Parents minds, from whom they had their bodies, do stubernely, or at least wise foolishly knit that knot, which the advise of their Parents should most firmly fasten, running rashly upon the Rocks of their own ruin, and sinking in the Sands of their own seeking, to the avoiding of which inconveniences I have penned for thy delight this History, of two British or rather Welsh lovers, whose amorous affections I have somewhat lover like depainted, not that I bring Oil to maintain the light of Venus' lamp, but with the satiety thereof quite to extinguish her flame, that loovers perusing the wanton contracts of these two Venus' darlings, may by the fulsomeness of their strange events, be driven into disliking of so vain a pastime, or rather a madness, which altereth the mind, changeth the body, perverteth reason, subverteth wisdom, expelleth joy, and bringeth with it more pounds of pain, than drams of delight, these affections, or otherwise infections, mayst thou (courteous Reader) perceive both one and other in the sequel of this discourse, which may peradventure in the eyes of some, seem overwanton, and more worthy a Faggot to burn it, than a Candle to read it, but the garment is not to be cast away, that is fretted with some Moths, the Rose is not to be rejected for his sharp prickelles: nor the Tree to be rooted up, whose fruit is somewhat worm-eaten, seeing they all may serve both for pleasure and commodity, neither is this discourse to be discommended, either for the grossness of the Theme being love, or for the effeminacy of the persons being lovers, seeing both the one and the other are esteemed and practised among those whose heaires are not so grey with age, but their hearts are as green in lust, that drawing even again to their former Childhood, yet can spell A. M. O. when they have one foot on the ground, and the other in their grave. But wishing unto such more grace, and to the younger sort more gravity: I conclude, referring thy judgement to the view of this my rude description, craving thee to suspend thy verdict, till thou hast considered the end, and then not despise my labour, which I have attempted for thy only pleasure, lest I may say justly of thee. Ego volens laboravi, et tu improbe sycophantaris, and thus desiring thee to bear both with the Printers faults and mine, which he hath committed by unwariness, and I by weariness, I end, excusing myself with that old Verse of the Poet, In opere longo fas est obrepere somnum, and so I commit this treatise to thy learned correction, and thyself to the almighty's protection, whom I beseech to guide thee.  
Farewell.   

❧ The Argument.  
HOw Lord Aeneas did departed from Troy,  
and wandering long, arrived on Itaile cost:  
And won Lavinia to his spoused joy,  
though Fortune fell, his mind in turmoils tossed.  
How Brutus did within this isle arrive,  
and dying did divide the same in three:  
How Lovers twain, in boiling flames did strive,  
to join their hearts in links of amity.  
How fates did frown, before they could possess,  
their wished wills, which they did long desire:  
And yet obtained, their sorrows were no less,  
than when they fried in flames of Cupid's fire  
How ruefully they both did end their days,  
to the distress of Parents doleful minds:  
These things at large, this Story plain displays,  
as who so reads, full strange in sequel finds.   

❧ The tragical History of Charles and julia.  

WHen glorious Greeks by conquest got,  
had spoiled Phrygian fields:  
And vaunting home with victory,  
upon their shining Shields.  
When flashing flames of flaky fire,  
had Pryames pride oppressed:  
And Trojan Towers by greedy Greeks,  
of pride were dispossessed.  
The prick of praise, the stag of Fame,  
that hight Aeneas he:  
(Whom Poets feign Anchises son,  
and Venus' Boy to be.)  
Prepared his Ship to seek the soil,  
which he by fate should find:  
Yet being galled with gripes of grief,  
he thus laments in mind.  
O frowning froward Fortune fell,  
that kingdoms dost subvert:  
Whose whirling wheel of fickle force,  
doth hate the haughty heart.  
Thou bendst thy brows with lowering looks,  
to hear of men's good hap:  
He sups the sauce of sour relief,  
that lulles him in thy lap.  
Thy fawning face, thy fleering smiles,  
thy trains intyste our trust:  
To think no feats of foreign force,  
could drown our deeds in dust.  
Our Ilon brave was once the flower,  
and chief of Asia soil:  
But lawless lust of Paris life,  
hath brought thy spiteful spoil.  
O Lecher lewd we may lament,  
O Helen we may rue:  
For Paris pranks, and thine untruth,  
our sorrows do ensue.  
O would the Wolves with gaping jaws,  
as soon as thou wast borne:  
With tearing teeth and clasping claws,  
had thee in pieces forne.  
Then Trojan Towers had safely stood,  
and Infant's life preseru'de:  
Then haughty Hector's head had not,  
with traitors knife been caru'de.  
Dephobus, Trovetus, Polites,  
with Fame had yet remained:  
Nor polixena's blood the grave,  
of Achillus had been stained.  
Then Pyrrhus had not wrought his will,  
with Priam's aged bones:  
To blot with blood and ashes fine,  
high jove his Altar stones.  
Thy Princely Palace finely framed,  
and glazde with glittering gold:  
Had scaped the scathe of furious foes,  
which force of fire did fold.  
Our Armours had not been berayed,  
with blood of gushing veins:  
Nor strutting streams had smeared the streets,  
with heaps of dead men's brains.  
Our Temples and our sturdy gates,  
had not with toil been torn:  
Ne should the Soil which sucked up blood,  
have made such sprouting Corne.  
These griefs and groans had we escaped,  
had Paris lost his life:  
As Sages sad by learned lore  
did will, to stint our strife.  
But Priam oh, I rue thy case,  
and Troy I thee lament:  
Whose ripe renown and rife report,  
was through the world Isprent.  
By chips of chance thou chosen waist,  
to fifty children Sire:  
And yet ere death decreed thy doom,  
they did their ends aspire.  
Thy sons thus slain, thyself alas,  
waist hauled by hoary hair:  
To sacred Temple, where thy corpses  
was crazed with spiteful spear.  
Thy Queen, and daughter Cassandra.  
as Captives both were ta'en:  
And for the gain of greedy gold,  
thy seely son was slain.  
O wretched King, whose baneful Boy,  
hath thus destroyed us all:  
And on our Regions, Realms, & Towns,  
hath forced this fatal fall.  
O Tenedos, that lent our loss,  
whose sturdy Oaks were squared:  
To work our wrong by wicked wiles,  
which guileful Greekes prepared.  
Whose haughty Horse procured our harms,  
that did no danger doubt:  
Till outward show of Sacrifice,  
had brought our bane about.  
Yea, through thy groans did grow our grief  
whose shade did shroud their sight:  
That when we thought their Navies gone,  
they strait returned with might.  
Cassandra's saws, we small esteemed,  
who Prophesied our shame:  
And said, the cause of all our care,  
should be a Grecian Dame.  
When Paris went to Greece she said.  
O Brother do retire:  
You little know you go to fetch,  
great flames of flashing fire.  
Laacons' words eke warned our woe,  
his Spear 'gainst Horse he thrust:  
And said, you Trojans take good heed,  
how you this timber trust.  
Much cankered craft contrived there is,  
within this wily work:  
For in the compass of this Cave,  
the guileful Greeks do lurk.  
O that the ground had been my grave,  
when victual breath I took:  
Or that before this doleful day,  
my life had me forsook.  
Then should not I have seen our Towers,  
consumed with fiery flames:  
Nor Infants slain at Mother's breasts,  
with spoil of modest Danies.  
Then should not I have seen the blood,  
like rivers red to run:  
Nor wretched Fathers lose their lives,  
each by his murdered son.  
The hoary heads with silver hairs,  
were pierced with Grecians darts:  
That flowing floods of lukewarm blood,  
did gush from out their hearts.  
There might be seen, both head and arms,  
with many a lusty limb:  
Being borne above the bloody brooks,  
in swelling streams to swim.  
I saw, I saw, that grieved me most,  
my Cousin Hector's corpse:  
Whose bloody corpses amid the streets,  
did move me to remorse.  
To aged Priam's being alive,  
his body than I gave:  
That he might have the right renown,  
and honour of his grave.  
What heart so hard but must lament,  
to view this great annoy:  
Alas, I can no longer stay,  
I must departed from Troy:  
O Troy adieu, I wail thy woes,  
I mourn thy heavy plight:  
Thou wast not won by manly force,  
but by Ulysses' slight.  
My Country, Kinsmen, and my friends,  
though tears like Seas do swell:  
Yet dead, or living, now at last,  
I bid you all farewell.  
Farewell, thou fertile Phrygian soil,  
where Troy sometime did stand:  
Thy walls are waste, thy wealth is worn.  
adieu my native Land.   

WHen sighs & sobs had soaked his heart,  
and tears were wasted well:  
With moving mind he seeks the soil,  
which fates to him did tell.  
To sea ward then with Son and Sire,  
he frames with journey fast:  
With Country goods, and Relics brave▪  
he hies in all the haste.  
His Navy ready lay at road,  
the Trojans to convey:  
In dreadful doubt, and dangers deep,  
they took their weary way.  
Charibdis' gulf, and Sulla's sands,  
with safety they did pass  
Yet seven years space the foaming floods,  
their let of harbour was.  
As hovering thus in hope they lay,  
at last Aeneas spies:  
A Haven for to shroud their Ship,  
from hoary Hiems eyes:  
And lighting now on lucky land,  
he found it Carthage new:  
Whose Princely Ports so finely framed,  
did glad his eyes to view.  
Where dainty Dido was addressed,  
the Prince to entertain:  
Beseeching of this Trojan Knight,  
with her for to remain.  
He weighing not of her good will,  
prepared himself with speed:  
To look this Land, the which by lot,  
the fates for him decreed.  
When sturdy storms, and striving streams,  
when tossing tides were spent:  
At last on Lauyne coast he lands,  
though junos' brows were bend.  
And in Italia he remains,  
Lavinia was his Wife:  
Of whom he got a worthy son,  
and then departed life.  
Which julius Silvius had to name,  
that Alba Longa built:  
Of whom Silvius Brutus came,  
that Father's life hath spilled.  
For which mischance he banished was,  
and in this isle aryu'de:  
Wherein he got three worthy sons,  
or death his life depryu'de.  
Yet or the Sisters did agree,  
his twist for to untwine:  
He made division of this Land,  
and then was laid in Shrine.  
To locrin's lot, the East part fell,  
the other Albanact had:  
And Camber governed worthy Wales,  
whereof he was full glad.  
These Princes each possessed their place,  
and did this Land defend:  
Till Atropos with carving knife,  
her Sister's web did end.  
Then Cambria was two Lordships large,  
two Lords possessed the same:  
Of whom, as Stories make record,  
they were of worthy fame.  
In Anglesie the one did reign,  
sir Gaulfride stout he hight:  
The other Owen had to name,  
in Flint he ruled by right.  
This Gaulfride had one son called Charles,  
a Lad of lusty limb:  
And Owen had a Daughter dear,  
in beauty like to him.  
This Charles Dame Nature had bedecked,  
with goodly gifts of grace:  
That all the Art which she could use,  
she planted in his face.  
His flowing tongue Apollo taught,  
such sugared speech to frame:  
(His stature was so seemly set)  
as none can tell the same.  
Full twenty years he was of age,  
his Beard began to grow:  
Then time in him by rare aspects,  
great wisdom seemed to show.  
Her name was gentle julia,  
whose blazing beauty bright:  
Like splendaunt Phoebus' rays did shine,  
in every people's sight.  
I know Apelles could not paint,  
her seemly shape and show:  
Though every Painter should with him,  
their perfect skill bestow.  
Dame Nature seeing her picture brave,  
did heave her praise so high:  
That in the same she breathed life:  
when she did it espy.  
Her curled crine did far surpass,  
the glorious glistering gold:  
My skill is scant, my wit doth want,  
her favour to unfold.  
In years she was nineteen I read,  
yet was her gestures grave:  
And modest was she in her talk,  
but few her virtues have.  
Why should I stand to paint her praise,  
I want the Muse's aid:  
Ne have I clym'de Parnassus' cliff,  
by ceaseless toil assayed.  
I never yet did wash my wits,  
at wise Libethres Well:  
Nor scald the rough and ragged rock,  
where learned Ladies dwell.  
Wherefore come Clio, me assist,  
good Ladies lend your skill:  
That I may show those loovers lives,  
with this my barren quill.  
A Fountain fair there is in Flint,  
a River rare to see:  
Where ancient Britons did suppose,  
some power divine to be.  
And daily yet they do adore,  
this ancient sacred Spring:  
Whose Virtues of a troth are rare,  
and do much profit bring.  
And called it is Saint Winefredes Well,  
for whom their yearly Feast:  
With reverence they yet observe,  
from greatest to the least.  
The Lame, the Blind, the Lunatic,  
the Deaf, and eke the Dome:  
Unto this clear celestial spring,  
for secure still do come.  
Amongst the rout, young Charles doth ride,  
this pleasant plat to view:  
And to survey each seemly shape,  
among this comely crew.  
On th'other side Dame julia comes,  
her offerings to bestow:  
That unto Winefred she may,  
her due obeisance show.  
To Temple now these gallants go,  
with julia and her train:  
Where solemn Service they did hear,  
and so returned again.  
Then unto dancing they do fall,  
as ancient custom is:  
They spend their time in pleasant sport,  
no want of joy they miss.  
But Charles amid the thickest throng,  
doth lend his lancing looks:  
To feed his eyes with beauty's baits,  
yet feared no force of hooks.  
Their beauty he in balance binds,  
and ways them all alike:  
He thought no dint of Cupid's dart,  
her sturdy heart could strike.  
At last his eyes he firmly fixed,  
on Julia's shape beside:  
Whose favour fresh, and face so fair,  
Dame Nature had bedyde.  
He found such sparks within her face,  
as did inflame his heart:  
Which boiled his breast, with burning brands,  
and bred his smoking smart.  
For crabbed Cupid by his craft,  
did hide himself unseen:  
And gored the breast of Charles unwares,  
which made his wounds full green.  
Sir Charles who lived at liberty,  
as captive now is caught:  
And where he wist not how to woo,  
now love his tongue hath taught.  
He knew her not that bred his bane,  
or wrapped his wits in woe:  
His senses now were rocked a sleep,  
her love had lulde him so.  
Yet bashful shame, (the foe of love,)  
withholds his tongue to speak:  
And fainting fear, had wrought his force,  
his mind he durst not break.  
Three things there be that hinder love,  
that's Absence, Fear, and Shame:  
And where that these be resident,  
there things can never frame.  
Yet he requests with diligence.  
a Tenant of her Sire:  
What hight her name, who was her Kin,  
that kindled thus his fire.  
Mean space fair julia looks about,  
her wandering eyes do gaze:  
Till she by Fortune found the face,  
which made her mind to maze.  
On Charles by chance, her eyes made choice,  
whose feature she did find:  
(Above each show of humane shape)  
the best to please her mind.  
She deemed his beams of beauty bright,  
did pass each wight as far:  
As Titan's glistering rays excels,  
the clearness of a Star.  
By doom divine it was decreed,  
he should enjoy her heart:  
Yet knew not she what wight it was,  
that did procure her smart.  
Thus both by lot in love were linked,  
there Passions were alike:  
One direful dart by Cupid's craft,  
their stroke of strife did strike:  
They strangers were to each unknown,  
both languish for relief:  
And fear did force them to be faint,  
to show their gripes of grief.  
Yet she demands what Knight it was,  
whose Princely port did shine:  
Who answered her, he was the chief,  
and heir of gaulfride's line.  
Which was the Earl of Anglesie,  
these words did glad her heart:  
And yet the privy pricks of love,  
increased her ceaseless smart.  
On Venus than she doth exclaim,  
and of her cruel child:  
Because that through his shivering shaft,  
her pleasures were exiled.  
Yet doth she thank Dame Venus' grace,  
that she in heart did serve:  
A worthy Wight, whose virtues rare,  
did well her love deserve.  
Wherefore O Lady, grant (quoth he)  
that for my loyal heart:  
I may rewarded be with love,  
to cease my secret smart.  
Thus both attentive were to view,  
to mark each others eye:  
If by the sight, some signs might seem,  
the flames for to descry.  
At last their dancing finished was,  
they leave their liked sport:  
And to a Garden gay and green,  
they all forthwith resort.  
Wherein an Arbour they are set,  
each one to his degree:  
First Charles, than julia next to him,  
as duty wild to be.  
The common crew with merry notes,  
of silver sound do sing:  
That with the Echo of their voice,  
they make the Garden ring.  
But Charles thus placed in this plat,  
with joy his tongue is tied:  
And shifts of shame, do shroud his speech,  
which should have love descried.  
He friendly gripes her tender hand,  
his heart doth leap for joy:  
And change of h●we bewrays the flames,  
that did his mind annoy.  
For as a glass presents each show,  
and makes the Picture plain:  
Even so the eyes and face bewrays,  
what doth in mind remain.  
When colour vades and comes again,  
when wandering eyes do range:  
These are the certain signs of love,  
or of some Passion strange.  
He fain would speak, but fear bad stay,  
and shame retained her tongue:  
And thus with pricks of Cupid's flames,  
they both alike were stung.  
Till love at last surpassed shame,  
and forced fear to fly:  
The blazing brands that burnt within,  
burst out with flames on high.  
Then Charles declared what gripes of grief  
did hold his heavy heart:  
What flames of Fancy burnt his breast,  
through dint of Cupid's dart.  
O julia, would to God (quoth he)  
you knew my privy pain:  
What secret sighs and soaking sobs,  
I for your sake sustain.  
Your heavenly hew hath won my will,  
and pierced my heart so deep:  
That lest you deygne to grant me grace,  
my wailing mind must weep.  
For when I saw your seemly sight,  
there flew from out your eyes,  
A spiteful spark into my heart,  
whereof great flames did rise.  
That lest you grant me wished grace,  
to ease my groaning grief:  
The greedy ground will be my grave,  
for want of your relief.  
O Lady dear in you remains,  
to save or else to spill:  
My life or death, my weal and woe,  
depends upon your will.  
With Mercy heal my moaning mind,  
sith beauty doth abound:  
Let Pity be the plaster pure,  
to cure my inward wound.  
Else cruel care, with carving knife,  
my victual twist untwine:  
And dreadful death dispatch my days,  
to shroud my shape in shrine.  
Here with the trickling tears did train,  
a long his cherry cheeks:  
And sobs to silence him provoked,  
his tongue to talk mysteekes.  
When she had heard this trembling tale,  
she would have fain replied:  
But faltering tongue was glued so fast,  
that it to roof was tied.  
At last as one from slothful sleep,  
which newly doth awake:  
Recovering of her former force,  
with trembling tongue she spoke,  
O worthy Sir, whom lucky lot,  
through destinies decree:  
Assigned have unto this place,  
to thrall my heart so free.  
Is loyal love do burn your breast,  
as you by speech profess:  
Much more the kindled coals do blaze,  
in me whose force is less.  
O that Dame Fortune did agree,  
if that it pleased your mind:  
That lasting links of loyal love,  
did knit the knot of kind.  
Though death should deal his direful dint,  
and daunt me with his Dart:  
No pinching pricks of pining pain,  
should stir my mind to start.  
Each grief were gain, each sour were sweet,  
each pain shall pleasure seem:  
All deadly dolours for your sake,  
I deep delight would deem▪  
And lest you think I falsely feign,  
my heart and hand I give:  
To rest your own in weal or woe,  
while I on earth do live.  
You loovers well may judge what joys,  
inflamed his moaning minds:  
When calm content provoke her will,  
the Brydely bands to bind.  
He cries, O Fortune stay thy wheel,  
I have my hoped hire:  
My will hath won his only wish,  
thou fedst me with desire.  
herewith their solemn sacred oaths,  
confirms their faithful hearts:  
And hearts and hands do knit the knot,  
which nought but death departs.  
Both juno then, and Hymen heyghe,  
to witness they do call:  
How freely they did join the band,  
which thrust them both in thrall.  
By this time Phoebus lost his light,  
and Westward did decline:  
And Vesper now the evening Star,  
beginneth for to shine.  
O Charles (quoth she) we must departed,  
which grinds my groaning grief:  
Till tract of time do yield the lot,  
to lend us like relief.  
(Quoth he) O julia point the time,  
that we may meet again:  
And if I break the fixed hour,  
let me the blame sustain.  
Nought else but death, shall keep my corpse,  
from out they seemly sight:  
Or if I die, my wandering Ghost,  
shall come to thee by night.  
Said julia then, when Phoebus hath,  
three times his light renewed:  
Let not your absence cause my cares,  
least pleasures be subdued.  
O julia dear, if I (quoth he)  
do serve from your desire:  
Let mighty jove consume my corpses,  
with flashing flames of fire.  
With clasping arms they then embrace,  
their kisses show their kind:  
A hundredth times their lips do meet,  
to glad each others mind.  
Then floods of tears do flow full fast,  
their parting was a pain:  
Yet hope was honey to their hearts,  
that they should meet again.  
And thus they had each others heart,  
which did them both content:  
He hieth then to Anglesie,  
and homeward strait she went.  
Where being come, they both lament,  
the force of Cupid's fist:  
Whose hapless hand did shoot the shaft,  
to wound them ere they witted.  
He cries, O Cupid crafty elf,  
the worker of my woe:  
What have I done, that moves thy mind,  
on me thy force to show.  
And she exclaims on Venus' vile,  
which leapt her heart in love:  
And bond her in such bands of bale,  
from which she could not move.  
Their eyes do now forget to sleep,  
through care and direful dread:  
They wallow still their weary bones,  
upon their restless bead.  
Now do they deem each day a month,  
and every month a year:  
Till each of them by plighted vow,  
in pointed place appear.  
Each pleasure now procureth pain,  
all Music seemeth moan:  
All wealth is woe, their heavy hearts,  
are gnawde with gripes of groan.  
The wished time they still attend,  
to view each others sight:  
That they might spend their time in sport,  
and live in deep delight.  
Three times hath Phoebus now repay'de,  
his wasted horns a new:  
The wished day is now attained,  
they should each other view.  
Then Charles with cheerful heart is priest,  
when Phoebus' force was spent:  
To high with haste, least Parents should,  
perceive his close intent.  
Now Sol was settled in the West,  
and Luna 'gan to shine:  
When Charles pretends to view her face,  
whom he in heart did shrine.  
By travail he attains the place,  
(when Nox was wasted well:)  
Where first he found the harmful heat,  
which forced his heart to swell.  
But when Aurora in the East,  
had cléerde the morning tide:  
Then julia longing for this light,  
to Wynefride she hide.  
By feigning of due Sacrifice,  
they both with joy embrace:  
That each of them through free consent,  
had won this wished place.  
What joys they had, let loovers judge,  
when both at sudden sight:  
Possessed the fruits of their desires,  
unto their deep delight.  
Even as the Vine enuyroneth,  
the pole which makes them grow:  
So they embrace each others neck,  
with arms as white as snow.  
When sugared toys of loovers guise,  
between them end did take▪  
Then Charles to julia framed his tale,  
and thus to her he spoke.  
O julia, would my soil were set,  
within thy native land:  
That I each night might shape my course.  
to kiss thy tender hand.  
So might I homeward high with haste,  
ere morning lent his light:  
So might we both frequent our joys,  
unseen of any wight.  
But seeing the strand withholds our hearts,  
being linked by lots of love:  
Let us to win our wished wills,  
some privy practice prove.  
To bind us both in Bridely bands,  
this is the meetest way:  
That we by some devise allure,  
some Priest with hoped prey.  
Him to corrupt with heaps of Coin,  
yet close it must be wrought:  
That ripe report run not abroad,  
ere it to pass be brought.  
But when by Law we linked are,  
if then our Parents know:  
They weighing want of remedy,  
will grant it shall be so.  
And though my Parents and my friends,  
disdain my secret deed:  
In steed of their good will, I shall,  
obtain a greater meed.  
My Father's wealth, and eke my kin,  
I do account them small:  
So I enjoy thy hidden heart,  
I reap reward for all.  
Wherefore let not our Father's wrath,  
or care for worldly wealth:  
Once move thy steadfast mind from me,  
whereon depends my health.  
For why, ere Luna lose her light,  
by only course of kind:  
I will provide a privy Priest,  
our bands of bliss to bind.  
Therefore declare if my devise,  
content your worthy will:  
Or that you know a better way,  
our joys for to fulfil.  
When as he thus had told his mind,  
she spoke with trembling voice:  
O Sir (quoth she) my wits are weak,  
I put it to your choice.  
The great good will I bear to you,  
my hews bewrays the same:  
And though that Women weaker be,  
my heat exceeds your flame.  
Where Femine do prefix their love,  
no measure they observe:  
They fasten then their faith so sure,  
that they do never serve.  
Assure yourself what I have said,  
my deeds shall plain express:  
For time shall try that trusty truth,  
shall not from words degress.  
For why, the gifts of Nature's grace,  
which I in you do find:  
Your Verves, and your form so fine,  
have won my inward mind.  
No marvel 'tis that I am caught,  
in Cupid's subtle snare:  
Sith that the Wight that holds my heart,  
in beauty is so rare.  
My love is such, that least through lot,  
we linked are by Law:  
Fell Atropos will cut the thread,  
which Lachesis doth draw.  
Sith I have vowed to be thine own,  
thy purpose do dispatch:  
For none bears breath, but only thou,  
with whom I wish to match.  
Ere that a month therefore be passed,  
I will attentive be:  
According unto promise plight,  
your quick return to see.  
My julia dear doubt not (saith he)  
full soon I will retire:  
For to content your friendly mind,  
with fruits of your desire.  
And in mean space as loovers use,  
on hope we still will feed:  
Till pointed time be fully run,  
whereon we have decreed.  
By this time Phoebus sturdy steeds,  
do lodge in Occident:  
When these two loovers now must leave,  
the sport which thus they spent.  
With heavy cheer they then embrace,  
their clasped arms they close:  
What heavy sighs and sobs they spent,  
my pen cannot disclose.  
With greedy gripes he culles her corpses,  
full loath for to departed:  
Farewell my julia dear (quoth he)  
I leave with thee my heart.  
Sir Charles (quoth she) although my corpse,  
be hid from out your sight:  
I yield also my heart to you,  
your goodness to requite.  
And thus they both prepare to pack,  
he spares no spurs to speed:  
She backward throws her lingering looks,  
her fancyde eyes to feed.  
But when she lost his sight at last,  
her tears 'gan gush a main:  
Her heavy heart was then oppressed,  
with pinching pricks of pain.  
She cursed the time that Nature first,  
did lend her luckless life:  
She wished her Nurse, had reft her breath,  
by dint of bloody knife.  
She cursed her mouth that took the food,  
which did her corpses sustain:  
And wished some poison in her pap,  
that might have been her bain.  
At last retained by reasons rule,  
herself she homeward sped:  
Where being come, she wills her maid,  
for to prepare her bed.  
Whereon she thought to take her rest,  
and fall to quiet sleep:  
But carking care, and groaning grief,  
provoked her eyes to weep.  
That down the tears like drops do rain,  
on bed whereas she lay:  
And to herself in whispering sort:  
at last she 'gan to say.  
If I should marry secretly,  
ere Parents know the same?  
What should I purchase to myself,  
but only lasting shame?  
What? should I match myself with him,  
whom thrice I never saw?  
Tush julia, tush thou art to rash,  
therefore thy mind withdraw,  
Lest it be said, thou art a Child,  
that lyu'ste devoid of awe?  
Shall I my Mother's curse deserve?  
whereat I ought to quake?  
Shall I lose Parents, Kithe and Kin?  
all for one Strangers sake?  
Or shall I put my honesty,  
into a Strangers hand:  
Who would perhaps misuse me then,  
when as I were in band?  
To whom then might I make my moan,  
or gape for hope of grace?  
Who would assist me having wrong,  
or plead my careful case?  
No, no, my will shall cease to wade,  
to work my Parents woe:  
My hasty head shall leave his hope,  
to frame my ruin so.  
This said, she paused, & strait ways doth,  
her tattling tongue reprove:  
For spitting out such words of spite,  
'gainst him whom she did love.  
Should I (quoth she) ungrateful seem,  
to such a worthy Knight?  
Who on the gain of my good will,  
doth fix his whole delight?  
Within whose faithful heart so true,  
doth lodge such loyal love?  
Whose Virtue rare, and seemly shape,  
the stonyst heart might move?  
Should I then have a flinty heart,  
like to my countries name?  
Or should I to a courteous Knight,  
be found a thankless Dame?  
No, no, in wealth, or else in woe,  
in mirth, or else in moan:  
In pleasure, or in pinching pain,  
till death I am his own.  
Till whose return (I live in tears,)  
expecting wished joys:  
When Marriage lock, shall link our hearts,  
to drive out dark annoys.  
When tears & swelling sighs were slaked,  
Morpheus doth appear:  
Sir Somnus with his sleeping slights,  
doth close her eyes so clear.  
Her mind is then devoid of care,  
(For sleep doth ease the heart:  
Whom greedy gripes of groaning grief,  
doth sink in Seas of sinart.)  
At last Aurora with his light,  
the cloudy Skies doth clear:  
And blazing Titan with his beams,  
in East doth straight appear.  
Then doth she rise from careful couch,  
she takes her Book in hand:  
Wherein she reads her private Prayers,  
as did with custom stand.  
But still her rolling eye doth range,  
in thousands thriftless thoughts:  
To think on Charles, doth change her cheer,  
thereby her grief is wrought.  
But leave we julia now a time,  
for why my quaking quill:  
Shall now revert, to paint his grief,  
whom cutting cares did kill.  
When he had past her Father's Port,  
and parted was her sight:  
In riding he espies a Hill,  
whereat he did alight.  
Such dollars deep did him distress,  
such sudden sorrows swell.  
As amazed his mind, that flat on ground,  
in pytteous plights he fell.  
And thus with cries he cleaves the clouds,  
Oh gentle Death (quoth he:)  
Come shut these windows of my mind,  
this loathsome light to see.  
O Heavens, where are your thunder bolts,  
and flakes of flashing fire:  
For to consume my careful coarse,  
which burns in hot desire.  
O Earth▪ do gape with mighty maw,  
and swallow up my coarse:  
Some hasty hand, dispatch my days,  
and rue me with remorse.  
As thus he powered his piteous plaints,  
his was●lesse woes to weep:  
His sooking sighs, and wearied tears,  
provoked his eyes to sleep.  
Dame Venus then to him appears,  
thus sleeping as he lay:  
And thus she spoke (O Charles quoth she)  
awake with speed I say.  
Why dost thou so with troublous thoughts,  
and storms of sturdy strife:  
Torment thyself for her, which shall  
remain thy wedded Wife?  
The noisome night is nearly spent,  
stand up therefore with speed:  
For why, to high the home in haste,  
the time requireth need.  
This fainting fear that frays thy heart,  
denies thou art a man:  
And yet thy shape doth show full well,  
the art that Nature can.  
Vngyrde thy mind of inward grief,  
let wisdom weld thy will:  
Thy love is thine (do not dismay)  
and so she shall be still.  
With that he starteth up amazed,  
released of inward pain:  
And hoped assuredly of help,  
through this his vision vain.  
And being perfectly awaked,  
he took his prime prospect:  
Unto the coast where she was lodged,  
that did his heart protect.  
O lucky Land, O Flint (quoth he)  
thrice happy be the hour:  
That I to fix my féebel feet,  
in thee did find the power.  
Thou harbourest her that hath my heart,  
and shall till death agree:  
To shrine me in my shivering sheet,  
what so betide of me.  
With that a cloud of smoking sighs,  
he sends to her amain:  
To signify her loyal love,  
did so procure his pain.  
Then to his man he calls for Horse▪  
he hies him home apace:  
That he may win his Father's Court,  
ere Phoebus show his face.  
And by that time he had aspired,  
unto his hasted home:  
Bright Lucifer the morning Star,  
about the Skies doth roam.  
He wills his man to make his bed,  
whom he doth charged full strait:  
Not to disclose his secret walks,  
which was a thing of weight.  
And there in bed he doth devise,  
where he a Priest may find:  
That may procure his wished will,  
and ease his careful mind.  
At last, suppressed with sluggish sleep,  
he takes a nap or twain:  
And then he starts from stately bed,  
to clothe himself again.  
And ere he had himself addressed,  
the Sun doth South decline,  
The clock strikes twelve, the board is laid,  
and it is dinner tyme.  
It were too long for to express,  
the change of costly cates:  
For served they were as doth become,  
the stay of noble States.  
Let it suffice that they were set,  
and into talk they fell:  
Of this and that, I know not what,  
nor did not mark it well.  
But well I wots, Charles liked not,  
to hear their tedious talk:  
For all that while his wandering wits,  
a thousand ways doth walk.  
He sat so sadly in his dumps,  
with arms enclosed to breast:  
That men might think some cause there was  
that bread his great unrest.  
His Father and his Mother both,  
do fix their eyes on him:  
They muzd what clouds had clip'st his mirth  
or made his joys so dim.  
And thus his Father 'gan to speak,  
my Son, I marvel much:  
What moves thy mind to myrthlesse cheer  
or makes thy gestures such?  
Hath links of love, by Cupid's craft,  
inchaind thy heart by chance?  
Hath Venus vain inuolu'de thy mind,  
in her delights to dance?  
Hath fancy fettered thee so fast,  
that thou canst not rejoice?  
Then tell me who, and what she is,  
whereon thou mak'st thy choice.  
His Mother eke, whose tender care,  
was over him not small:  
Desires him tell, what chyppe of chance,  
by sorry hap doth fall.  
That ere the wound be waxed stale,  
she may a salve prepare:  
To heal the harms that holds his heart,  
and for to cure his care.  
Their words do much amaze his mind,  
the blood doth stain his face:  
A sign of seemly shamefastness,  
and token of good grace.  
And thus to them with reverence due,  
he doth reply again:  
My Parents both, you guess amiss,  
your judgements are but vain.  
No shivering shaft of Cupid's craft,  
nor force of Fancies fume:  
Hath any force to crush my coarse,  
my pleasures to consume.  
I count but vile of Venus' vaunts,  
her beauty is but black:  
It cannot dim my crystal sight,  
nor pluck my pleasures back.  
I have my health I thank the Heavens,  
with cares ne am I clad:  
My mind is stuffed with inward mirth,  
although I seem so sad.  
And then he throws a forced smile,  
to drive their minds from doubt:  
Lest they might else surmise the truth,  
which made him seem so stout.  
By that they thus had spent the time,  
the dinner came to end:  
All rise with course of courtesy,  
with shortness to extend.  
The Lords and Ladies do delight,  
at Chess to spend the time:  
And some revolve the ancient books,  
was writ in British rhyme.  
Some Dice, some Card, some Hunt, some Hawk,  
as best content their mind:  
And every one to pass the time,  
some pleasant play do find.  
But Charles enchained by thrystles thoughts  
the day in care consumes:  
And wisheth Nox for to approach,  
that sleep may ease his sums.  
Which being come, his former woes,  
withholds his eyes from rest:  
He turns and tosseth too and fro,  
to ease his careful breast.  
At last Aurora lends her light,  
and Titan doth display:  
His gladsome beams to each man's eyes,  
that covets for the day.  
Sir Charles that longed for the light,  
from careful couch doth rise:  
And then how he might find a Priest,  
he doth all means devise.  
By hap it came into his mind,  
of one whom he did know:  
Which was his friend, and unto whom,  
he strait for help did go.  
Requesting him to yield supply,  
for to relieve his case:  
Because in him did only rest,  
his hope of wished grace.  
Protesting then if he would grant,  
to comfort him in need:  
He would requite his great good will,  
with fruits of triple meed.  
In you (quoth he) remains my help,  
and lengthening of my life:  
And you alone can ease my grief,  
and stint my inward strife.  
Wherefore as I may rest your friend,  
in after time to come:  
So lend relief to aid my lack,  
then shall you hear the some.  
The Priest replied with reverence dew,  
good Sir, what lies in me:  
My life and death is ready priest,  
at your command to be.  
If I may pleasure you in aught,  
express the same with speed:  
And here I vow in what I can,  
I will support your need.  
And if it do concern such things,  
as must be needs concealed:  
Though death should danger me with doubt,  
it shall not be revealed.  
Wherefore detract no longer time,  
here is both heart and hand:  
In weal or woe, I will not stick,  
your helper for to stand.  
Charles liked well his faithful heart,  
and thought himself thrice blest:  
That Fortune stood so much his friend,  
to grant him wished rest.  
With thousand thanks for his good will,  
which he had not deserved:  
Protesting then his kindness great,  
his loathed life preseru'de.  
Wherefore (quoth he) with lystning ear,  
attend unto my tale:  
So shalt thou hear my lingering joys,  
which breeds my bitter bale.  
It was my lot to light in place,  
where Ladies did resort:  
Amongst the which I spied out one,  
of most surpassing port.  
Whom Nature's art so finely framed,  
with such excelling glee:  
As would entrap the stoutest heart,  
her featured form to see.  
The shining shape that Venus showed,  
on top of Ida Mount:  
Was nothing to her Princely port,  
of whom I make account.  
In whom such virtue doth remain,  
to match her heavenly face:  
As makes me judge she doth excel,  
Pandora for her grace.  
Whose seemly show, with manners mild  
when I had marked well:  
Withdrew the freedom of my mind,  
to bondage strait I fell.  
The bands of beauty which she bore,  
with words of courteous talk:  
Within the walls of her good will,  
enclosed me for to walk.  
Wherein I sought to plead my case,  
but shame my tongue did stay:  
Yet burning love quite vanquished shame,  
and forced fear away.  
So that my tears did tell my troth,  
when words might wade no more:  
What should I say, I won her will,  
the salve of all my sore.  
She plighted faith, I gave my troth,  
to rest her own in life:  
Now nought remains but Marriage state,  
to make us man and wife.  
Wherefore dear friend, here is contained  
the sum of my request:  
(Sith with your function it doth stand,)  
that you would do your best.  
To link us both in outward law,  
which inwardly remain:  
One heart within two bodies now,  
so shall you ease our pain.  
Sir, said the Priest, though your request,  
may well procure my blame:  
If luckless lot, should give such cause,  
your Parents know the same.  
Yet for the comfort of your heart,  
as for my promise sake:  
I will fulfil your hearts desire,  
your secret bands to make.  
But if she be no equal match,  
nor fit for your degree:  
I would be loath to work your will,  
for why, we daily see:  
That where unequals coupled are,  
is great debate and strife:  
And seeds of such dissension stroyes,  
the grafts of quiet life.  
My friend (quoth Charles) you need not doubt.  
she is of noble state:  
Her Parents and her Kin descend,  
(the truth for to relate.)  
From out the best of British blood,  
and Owen is her Sire:  
In Flint he rules, and reigns as Earl,  
whom I alone desire.  
If she be such as you declare,  
Sir Charles I am content:  
To join you both in Nuptial bands,  
if each of you assent.  
Wherefore let dread of froward hap,  
no whit dismay your mind:  
What I have said I will perform,  
though death were me assigned.  
I need not here express what meed,  
the Priest did then obtain:  
His rich rewards might well suffice,  
for to requite his pain.  
They both departed when this was done,  
each to his several home:  
But Charles being clad with calm content,  
in pleasant thoughts doth roam.  
And nothing else doth vex his mind,  
but tediousness of time:  
(For every day doth seem a year,  
when love remains in prime.)  
He blames the son of ceaseless sloth,  
that lends so long his light:  
And would the Moon were wasted clean,  
that doth prolong the night.  
O Titan, Titan, (he exclaims,)  
when wilt thou run thy race:  
I loath the brightness of thy beams,  
which do annoy my face.  
Now doth he wish some sudden trance,  
each joint for to benumb:  
And by some Charm to lose his spirits,  
till fixed day do come.  
Sometime he hopes of lucky hap,  
than danger bids him doubt:  
And thus twixt hope and fainting fear,  
his time he weareth out.  
Such is the trap of Venus' thralls,  
where loathsome love remains:  
To hope the best, and fear the worst,  
(lo, such is loovers games.)  
Between his hope and furious fear,  
his pleasant cheer decays:  
His spirits are dulled with careful thoughts▪  
his flesh consumes away.  
His countenance declares his grief,  
his strength begins to waste:  
His joints wax stiff, his limbs are sore,  
such turmoils he doth taste▪  
His comely carcase waxeth faint,  
with griefs and daily groans:  
His seemly shape is now become,  
a heap of shackling bones.  
The heart whom cutting cares doth crush,  
and thyrling thoughts doth thrall:  
Is subject unto sickness sore,  
but Fevers most of all.  
For care doth waste the heart of man,  
and brings the body low:  
As they that feel the force thereof,  
full perfectly do know.  
So Charles his grief to Fever grows,  
his fits procures his pain:  
The piercing pricks of Agues pangs,  
torments him every vain.  
Whereby he forced is to tell,  
his dollars deep disease:  
That thereby he might find redress,  
his sickness for to raze.  
Now lies he tossing on his bed,  
sometime with cares oppressed:  
And sometimes shaked with Fevers fits,  
which makes him sore distressed.  
His Parents mourn his present state,  
they seek for Physics art:  
They spare no charges to suppress,  
the terror of his smart.  
No Potions, Ointments, Salves, or cures,  
no Simples, nor Compounds:  
Nor Medicines made, by Physics skill,  
his furious fits confounds.  
His Father tendering of his state,  
bewails his careful case:  
And saith, my Son I do perceive,  
your sorrows by your face.  
I witted of late you were not well,  
when I your face did view:  
Your mind that time declared your grief,  
by sudden change of hue.  
You are attatcht with loathsome love,  
and subject to his law:  
Whose furious force subdueth those,  
whose years are green and raw.  
Declare therefore what so she be,  
thou shalt have my consent:  
And do not thus with troublous thoughts,  
thy careful heart torment.  
His Mother likewise doth lament,  
her sore diseased son:  
Her trickling tears along the bed,  
like rushing Rivers run.  
She doth desire to know his grief,  
but all their talk is vain:  
Their wasted words do more increase,  
his dolor and his pain.  
(For many words doth grieve the sick,  
which peevish are by kind:  
As small occasions soon provoke,  
an uncontented mind.)  
Therefore Sir Charles requests his Sire,  
and Mother in like case:  
(Lest that his presence move their grief)  
for to departed the place.  
Persuading them they vex his mind,  
with their continual moan:  
And that he should obtain some sleep,  
if that they once were gone.  
His woeful Parents leave him then,  
as loath him to molest:  
Whom ceaseless smart of sickness sharp,  
had now so sore oppressed.  
When they were gone, he sighs, he sobs,  
and rails on Fortune blind:  
Despairing lest that sickness should,  
his pointed knot untwined.  
Now doth he wish that julia knew,  
his sickness and his pain:  
So would she not misdoubt his love,  
nor think that he did feign.  
For sickness seldom covenant keeps,  
mens honesty to save:  
He pulls a man from mirth and joy,  
and rolls him to his grave.  
Thus Charles amid his noisome nips,  
doth welter all in woe:  
And doth desire the winged Time,  
with lingering steps to go.  
That he might have his former health,  
his plighted vow to save:  
Before the time prefixed paste,  
his full concourse should have.  
But Time regards no state of man,  
he slily slips by stealth:  
And tedious is to patients greeu'de,  
yet seems but short in health.  
The year doth waste, his course runs on,  
Dame Phoebae doth again:  
Remove her former wasted horns,  
and shines full bright and plain.  
Now julia doth with watching eye,  
for Charles return attend:  
Persuaded that this wished time,  
should former sorrows end.  
Now she provides such needful things,  
as doth to her pertain:  
And thus each day she stood in hope,  
of his return again.  
But when she saw that trustless hope,  
did nought at all prevail:  
Then she misdoubts that Charles his fraud  
hath caused his faith to fail.  
A thousand thoughts do thrall her mind,  
some times she hopes the best:  
Then blames him strait, with breach of faith,  
and calls him guileful guest.  
Some times she thinks some other Dame,  
had won his will to change:  
Again, she deems some other let,  
doth hinder him to range.  
But when she saw the pointed time,  
to be so far I spent:  
And that her hope was frustrate now,  
contrary to consent.  
She writes to him these following words,  
and wills him to beware:  
Lest Wynefrides' plague for his untruth,  
doth breed his ceaseless care.   
¶ The Letter of julia to Charles.  
THough lingering long I trusted to thy love,  
in hope thy deeds should firm thy wasted words  
Yet now I deem thy wavering mind doth move,  
I beat the bush, an other gets the birds.  
The plighted time thou didst appoint to meet▪  
is now expired, and thou hast broke thy vow:  
Ne hast thou sent, by writings me to greet,  
whereby the less, I do thy deeds allow.  
The mighty Gods vouchsafe that Wynefride.  
do not requite thy falsehood with desert:  
For staining so her Temple with a deed,  
whose false effect, doth merit triple smart,  
Yet nay the less though thou be false of faith:  
my heart shall still remain thine own for aye,  
Hap weal or woe, hap life or direful death:  
I will no whit from fixed promise stray.  
And so adieu, the Gods do thee forgive,  
though thou by fraud hast bred my heart's annoy:  
Yet do I vow, while I on earth do live,  
to pray the powers to grant thee lasting joy.  
Thy sorrowful Lady julia.  

THis done, she closed it up with speed,  
and secretly she sends:  
A messenger to Anglesie,  
who strait his voyage bends.  
Who being come to gaulfride's Court,  
to Charles he doth present:  
(Who lay full sick upon his bed)  
this Letter which she sent.  
When as he knew the same to come,  
from julia his (so dear)  
He felt his Fever fits to faint,  
through new revived cheer.  
When he had read her Letter through,  
which did his tarriance blame:  
He called for pen and ink to write,  
an answer to the same.  
Wherein he shows his cause of stay,  
and that he means likewise:  
To firm his vow, when to his state  
of health he shall arise.   
¶ The reply of Charles to julia her Letter.  
WIth triple thanks I greet thee here again,  
whose willing heart doth wish my lasting wealth  
Soregreued in mind, that chance doth me retain,  
and heavy hap doth so withhold my health.  
Whereby the cause of thy conceit doth rise,  
though no desert may drive thy mind to doubt:  
Yet my distress apparent to thine eyes,  
shall drive the cause of such suspicion out.  
The trust that thou reposedst in my love,  
shall not be void, nor frustrate in effect:  
For why, my deeds shall plighted promise prove  
if mighty God my lingering life protect.  
Thou beatest the bush, and shalt the birds obtain,  
none other wight shall have my heart in hold:  
Though time be past, yet time will come again,  
for to fulfil the vowed tale I told.  
I am no Paris, nor of Theseus' brood,  
ne yet am like to jason most unjust:  
But Pyramus to spend my dearest blood,  
or I to Thisbe would be false of trust.  
I trust that Wynefride will no hate conceive,  
sith by the powers my let alone proceeds:  
Let her the guilty from their joys bereave,  
and not the faultless suffer for their deeds.  
It is not I, but Fortune's froward fate,  
that filled my heart with fits of Fevers force:  
That if thou shouldst but view my present state,  
thou wouldst pronounce, I am some senseless corpse.  
But if the Gods vouchsafe my health to render,  
I will fulfil my former faythed vow:  
Then shalt thou know how I thy love do tender,  
though false suspect retains thy senses now.  
And thus adieu in hope of health at hand,  
time shall at last, inchayne our bodies fast:  
Though absence thus do cause our griefs to stand,  
yet lingering joy will double be at last.  
Thine own for ever, Charles.  

THis Letter made, the messenger  
of julia he doth lend:  
Desiring him unto his Dame,  
with heart him to commend.  
Who strait to Flint doth high apace,  
his message to discharge:  
Who being gone, Charles feels his fits,  
of Fevers to enlarge.  
This night he takes no rest at all,  
such grief his entrails tear:  
His heavy heart thus long oppressed,  
with wasteful woe doth wear.  
The messenger by this came home,  
whom julia longed to view:  
Saluting her with Charles his lines,  
which doth her joys renew.  
She shut the door, lest some should spy,  
the Letter which was sent:  
Which done, she hasted it to read,  
and strait the seal she rend.  
With fingers fine as white as snow,  
she rippes, and reads the same  
With watchful eyes, as hovering Hawk,  
doth pray upon her game.  
But when she finds how Agues fits,  
hath shaked his heart so sore:  
And how his corpses consumed is,  
with sickness more and more.  
The brinish tears doth wet her cheeks,  
her sight to read they stop:  
The crystal streams in trickling wise,  
like silver dew doth drop.  
But when the spring of watery drops,  
was dried up through want:  
To read his deep lamenting lines,  
her tender heart doth pant.  
Perusing them▪ she sighs and sobs,  
to ponder his estate:  
Her Icy cares and brands of love,  
do breed in breast debate.  
Alas (she said) what doth it need,  
to add unto my smart:  
The least of these my cutting cares,  
may kill a woman's heart.  
I thought that I had past the pikes,  
and field of fight groans:  
But now I see I have to run,  
a camp of ceaseless moans.  
And where I thought that marriage Rites,  
should yield me gain for grief:  
I see the darts of Death at hand,  
which breeds my sorrows chief.  
My friend in pain (oh furious fates)  
now fie on Fortune's wheel:  
Sith I a wretch and simple soul,  
her pinching pains shall feel.  
But sith what destinies decree,  
of force must be fulfilleth:  
My patiented mind shall bear each brunt●,  
as Princely powers have wild.  
And thus as she lamenting was,  
her grief, and careful case:  
Her sorrows now began to swadge,  
she wiped her watery face.  
And forth she comes with feigned cheer,  
in countenance full glad:  
Although the thoughts of Charles his grief,  
did make her heart full sad.  
Thus carefully she drives the time,  
with secret sorrows pained:  
Now this, now that torments her mind,  
as Fancies humours reigned.  
But ere seven nights space were spent,  
she longs to know again:  
Of Charles his state, and how his grief  
of Agues do remain.  
She took her pen as ready priest,  
to him again to write:  
For whom in pangs of endless pain,  
she languished day and night.  
But ere she had fulfilleth her mind,  
in writing of her bill:  
Such careful news doth cut it off,  
as made her want her will.  
Wherefore perpend her wavering state,  
how Fortunes wheel doth range:  
But first peruse her careful lines,  
then mark their story strange.   
¶ julia her Letter to Charles.  
I Have received your doleful lines,  
which unto me you sent:  
Which grievous news when I perused,  
did much my mind torment.  
Within your Letter lapped was,  
a frozen clod of care:  
Which freesde my heart with chilling cold,  
to read your sickness rare.  
And though I doubted your deceit,  
to like an other Dame:  
Yet pardon me. love hath no law,  
for Fancy moved the same.  
For heaps of care, in those abounds,  
which coupled are with fear:  
And jealous love doubts more than needs,  
as truth can witness bear.  
But sith my Fortune is so hard,  
I would some other wight:  
Had reaped your love, so should you not,  
with Fevers fits be fright.  
Or else I would I might sustain,  
the half of all your grief:  
So should I ease you of some cares,  
and heal my sorrows chief.  
But if that death by direful dint,  
should lose your lieu of life:  
Or sisters three should cut your twist,  
by fatal sharpened knife.  
My ghastly ghost shall follow fast,  
to the Elysian fields:  
Unto the sight of seemly Saints,  
which endless pleasure yields.  
Yea, though it were in Charon's boat,  
down Stygian stream to slide:  
My spirit shallbe thy walking mate,  
what so of me betide.  
And when the ground shallbe my grave,  
I will have graved thereon.  
This mournful verse, in doleful wise,  
upon my marble stone.  
Under this stone doth julia lie.  
to Charles a faithful friend:  
Who willingly to show her truth,  
her careful life did end.  
The Ladies that hereafter live,  
shall know by Julia's love:  
How faithful she to Charles remained,  
and never did remove.  

WHen she thus far had past her pen,  
in came Allecto fell:  
Some grim Megaera, stung with lies,  
a fearful tale to tell.  
He rushing came into the Hall,  
and said that gaulfride's son,  
Had yielded up his mortal life,  
his final race was run▪  
He did not only say the same,  
but swore by solemn oath:  
The brute thereof once thoroughly spread,  
it was believed for troth.  
The cause wherefore this lie was spread,  
was this as I have read:  
That Charles into a trance did fall,  
and was reputed dead.  
His face was cold, his breath was gone,  
no life in him appears:  
They wrong his joints, they bowed his breast,  
they thump him on the ears.  
They pour warm liquor down his throat  
his jaws they open wide:  
And so reduced him to life,  
through that he did abide.  
And yet the rumour rashly ran,  
his life was past all cure:  
So swiftly lying Fame doth fly,  
as tattling tongues procure.  
Hereof arose this loathsome lie,  
but (oh) you Ladies mourn:  
For now unto a doleful tale,  
my style I must return.  
For now as julia was applied,  
to pen her inward pain:  
In came her Maid with gasly looks,  
and cried out amain.  
O Madam (quoth she) heavy news,  
I have to you to show:  
To think whereon, my fainting heart  
doth melt through wasteful woe.  
What news (quoth julia) lifting up  
her sight (from paper strait)  
Hast thou to show, express the same,  
and let me hear them strait.  
The Maid replied, Sir gaulfride's son,  
that Charles hath to name:  
By death is now departed life,  
as bruited is by fame.  
This pierced her heart with deadly smart,  
this aggravates her pain:  
Now doth she loath her lingering life,  
and doth the same disdain.  
Her quivering quill, from quaking hand,  
in fainting sort doth fall:  
She flung away both ink and pen,  
and paper therewithal.  
And forthwith doth command her Maid,  
for to avoid the place:  
Who being gone, she scryketh out,  
in most lamentfull case▪  
She rents her hair, she beats her breast,  
her blood from face is gone:  
Her hollow looks declared her grief,  
that made her mind to moon.  
She doth devise which way to die,  
for life she loatheth still:  
Despair bids her make no delay,  
but seek herself to spill.  
Yet fainting fear of femine heart,  
doth fray her from the fact:  
And dread of Gods, wills her withhold,  
from such a wicked act.  
At last she doth exclaim one fate,  
and Fortunes wayward wheel:  
That forced her in steed of joy,  
such nipping cares to feel.  
O Heavens (quoth she) what lowering lot,  
of most unlucky hap:  
Hath moved such fury to my chance,  
to train me in this trap?  
O mighty God, vouchsafe (quoth she)  
thine ears for to incline:  
Let dreadful Death thy messenger,  
shut up my corpses in shrine.  
Let me not live, sith he is gone,  
that should my life support:  
For Death is sweet, and Life is sour,  
where care is chief comfort.  
It were too long to write her plaints,  
and careful scriching cries:  
Or to express what floods of tears,  
did flow from out her eyes.  
But strait amid these passions strange,  
from Chamber she doth part:  
And walks the fields adjoining near,  
for to refresh her heart.  
Where being come, in mournful wise  
she doth her grief relate:  
That hills and dales, with woods and groves  
may know her ruthful state.  
Her wasted words, like Echo doth,  
amid the Trees resound:  
And with her tears like morning dew,  
she wets the grassy ground.  
And thus she walks, till Phoebus' lamp,  
had lost his lovely light:  
Then to her Chamber she returns,  
to waste the weary night.  
Upon her Princely bed forthwith,  
she throws her careful corpse:  
Where black despair assaylde her strait,  
with fits of triple force.  
A thousand means she doth devise,  
to shear her line of life:  
Some times with cord, some times with drinks,  
some times with carving knife.  
At last she staid her staggering mind,  
with purpose full decreed:  
Ere Sol above the Horizon,  
did cast his glancing gleed.  
To Wynefrides' Temple for to go,  
her prayers for to make:  
And ere that she came home again,  
her life there to forsake.  
Even there she did determine sure,  
where first she found the flame:  
The water of her wicked deeds,  
should quickly quench the same.  
As Phillis ended up her days,  
with twine of silken cord:  
So would she leave her loathsome life,  
which she so much abhorred.  
Thus raging in these restless thoughts,  
till lightsome morning tide:  
She strait upstart, and goes about,  
her offerings to provide.  
With Incense and such needful things,  
to Wynefride she hies:  
To execute her fancied fact,  
which she did late devise.  
The way was short, not past a mile,  
she hasted thither strait:  
And into Church she roundly goes,  
her matters were of weight.  
She kneeling down in humble wise,  
within that wont place:  
Where all such sat as did descend,  
of worthy Owen's race.  
Her prayers done, she gins to pause,  
upon her lewd pretence:  
And how the same to Parents hers,  
might breed a fowl offence.  
Besides the blot of black defame,  
that on her kin should light:  
With loss of honour to herself,  
and Ladies fowl despite.  
Considering this, her mind doth change,  
unto an other way:  
And now she finds an other path,  
to frame her own decay.  
And thus perplexed with thousand thoughts,  
to Wynefride she cries:   
O Virgin thou, whose flyttering fame,  
doth pierce the azured Skies.  
Whose glory glanceth like the gleams,  
of golden Titan's rays:  
Whose Dyans deeds deserve the prick.  
of sempiternal praise.  
Bow down thy ears to thy handmaid,  
that doth not life desire:  
But that the sisters three vouchsafe,  
my death for to conspire.  
My twist they have drawn forth too long,  
which should have taken end:  
when direful destinies decreed,  
to spoil me of my friend.  
But sith the fates so furiously,  
have refte him from my sight:  
In whom consisted all my hope,  
of solace and delight.  
Should I desire to feed my corpses,  
with fainting breath perdie:  
And he ingrupled in his grave,  
on whom my life doth lie?  
How should I waste my weary time,  
in joy or wont mirth:  
When wrauling worms do crase his corpse,  
within the massy earth?  
O would I were some senseless beast,  
devoid of reasons kind:  
So should I feel no fits of pain,  
for to torment my mind.  
I would Diana would decree,  
to grant me Actaeon's state:  
So Sorrows Hounds should hale my heart,  
out of this dire debate.  
Vouchsafe O jove that guidst the Spheres,  
to reave from me my life:  
That I may end this careful course,  
which breeds my guiltless strife.  
And grant the gasping earth that gapes,  
for all things that she gave:  
May lodge my coarse that feign would rest,  
within her swallowing cave.  
Let me for Courtly garments gay,  
possess a winding sheet:  
And let my cyndred mould in earth,  
be trodden down with feet.  
O let my doleful Dirge be song,  
in steed of Marriage feast:  
And for my costly spousal Cowtch,  
lay me in grave to rest.  
And where that Hymaen should us knit,  
in junos' bands for aye:  
Allecto and Megaera both,  
let them in presence stay.  
And where Lucina should obtain,  
a place by room of right:  
Their Tisiphone shall remain,  
with looks of fowl despite.  
O grant the same you heavens I crave,  
my prayers hear with speed:  
For I by death will lose my life,  
sith fates have so decreed.  

WHen she had uttered forth her plaints,  
than homeward strait she went:  
Withheld by some celestial power,  
from former fowl intent.  
To Chamber back she doth return,  
ere any rose from rest:  
And round about her Chamber runs,  
with careful thoughts oppressed.  
And when the household ready were,  
she wills her Maid go call  
One of her Father's men forthwith,  
whom she must speak withal.  
To whom she saith, you know where dwells  
the joiner not far hence:  
Request him for to come to me,  
for I must needs commence  
With him about a certain thing,  
The servant goes strait way:  
And brought the joiner unto her,  
that did his coming stay.  
Who being come, to him she saith,  
my friend I you request:  
Such cunning as you have to show,  
and do for me your best.  
For I would have a Chest so made,  
that neither air nor shower:  
No rain nor waters flood it should,  
in any place devour.  
But being shut, to keep all forth,  
by means of pitch and tar:  
This would I have you do with speed,  
no time for to defer.  
And I will recompense your pains,  
unto the utmost part:  
That your requital shall exceed,  
the full of your desert.  
The joiner answers her again,  
with reverence due likewise:  
O Madame mine, my skill herein,  
your purpose shall suffice.  
I will so frame your Chest, that rain,  
nor waters washing wane:  
Nor mists of foggy air shall come,  
in this contrived cave.  
So soon as homeward I return,  
to work thereon I mean:  
So that or three days be expired,  
it shall be finished clean.  
And so he took his leave of her,  
and homeward doth return:  
And she being galled with former griefs,  
begins a fresh to mourn.  
The ceaseless tears along her cheeks,  
a printed path have made:  
Her inward cares hath forced quite,  
her outward hue to vade.  
Tormented thus with grisly grief,  
her Chamber she doth keep:  
And solitarily she sits,  
her wailing woes to weep.  
And when that weariness constrains,  
abroad her to sojourn:  
Her woes do make her walks but short,  
she makes a quick return.  
But when before her Parents face,  
she doth appearance make:  
She noynts her face with fine perfumes,  
her sorrowing signs to break.  
But lest I should too tedious seem,  
the joiner comes at last:  
With pitched Chest, most closely framed,  
the water for to cast.  
And julia pays him double hire,  
his pains for to requite:  
He takes the same with triple thanks,  
and so departs her sight.  
But when that Phoebe spread her light,  
within the Welkin high:  
Her Maid and she conveys the same,  
(when none could it espy)  
Unto the shore, the Sea being near,  
this secretly was wrought:  
As for the Maid, of her deceit,  
God knows but little thought.  
But she pretends a farther fetch,  
when midnight flood draws near:  
A desperate deed, she hath decreed,  
as you forthwith shall hear.  
When man and beast, and each thing else,  
their natural rest doth take:  
When as her Maid with all the house,  
Sir Somnus fléepes do shake.  
When whistling winds do cease to blow,  
when waters rage are still:  
When wavering leaves, on shaking Trees,  
do stay and cease to spill.  
When twinkling Stars amid the skies,  
most glysteringly do shine:  
And every thing declares the night,  
hath won his middle time.  
Then desperate julia doth arise,  
and ventreth forth of door:  
Where she her cursed Coffin found,  
hard by the salt Sea shore.  
But oh, draw near you Virgins all,  
you Ladies here behold:  
A trusty Dame, the faithfulst heart,  
yframed of woman's mould.  
She stood upright within the Chest,  
which waves yet moved not:  
And casting oft her eyes to land.  
she thus laments her lot.   
O God that governst heaven and hell,  
the Sea and the dry land:  
Vouchsafe for to receive my soul,  
into thy gracious hand.  
Which soul I first to thee bequeath,  
that long hath lodged in moved:  
And dirty dross of clottered clay,  
my body to the flood.  
And sith the soul of my dear friend,  
hath run his mortal race:  
I hope our shapeless ghosts in Skies,  
with joy shall both embrace.  
And for the solemn sacred oath,  
that we on earth have made:  
Though direful death by destiny,  
hath caused our promise fade.  
Yet do I trust amid the heavens,  
we shall the same fulfil:  
Where jointly we may both enjoy,  
thy Princely presence still.  
You Parents, and my friends adieu,  
I bid you both farewell:  
Bewail not you, nor weep my want,  
that needs no passing bell.  
Keep not my funerals with wails,  
nor moist my death with tears:  
For why, my coarse shall want no wet,  
seeing Seas such moisture bears.  
Though Fishes shall feed on my flesh,  
my Dirge shall Siren's sing:  
The friendly fish that Dolphin hight,  
me to my grave shall bring.  

BY this her barge on wallowing waves,  
doth swim in ruthful wise:  
And she aloof in Seas alas,  
to heaven doth life her eyes.  
Desiring God in mercy great,  
for to behold her case:  
When as the billows against her boat,  
doth bounce and beat apace.  
The waters drive her to the deep,  
and floods sometime flash in:  
Whose Icy cold to her full strange,  
doth wet her tender skin.  
But she alas doth lie along,  
within this hollow womb:  
And fastened sure the upper part,  
of her untimely Tomb▪  
At last sir Boreas with his breath,  
doth drive her Ship from shore:  
Which swifter slides upon the Seas,  
than Boat by force of Ore.  
Her body thus enclosed therein,  
in quivering sort doth quake:  
Like as the wavering Aspen leaf,  
by Notus blast doth shake.  
And when Titonia doth appear,  
to drive away the night:  
Her tossed Barge in midst of Seas,  
is seen in open sight.  
This day to Flint was day of doom,  
this black day had no light.  
This troublous time increased their cares,  
and made their day like night.  
This was beginner of their griefs,  
and ender of their joys:  
This day did hold their heavy hearts,  
in heaps of deep annoys.  
But when that Julia's Maid began,  
from sluggish sleep to rise:  
And could not find her Misteresse there,  
great fear doth her surprise.  
She runneth up and down the house,  
inquiring of each wight:  
If they did not her Misterisse see,  
since morning lent his light.  
But when no word of her she heard,  
she rend and tore her hair:  
And to her Parents ran forthwith,  
these ruthful news to bear.  
She told them of the pitched Chest,  
that she to shore had brought:  
And how that of her meaning then,  
no whit at all she thought.  
These news did so amaze their minds,  
their colour gins to vade:  
Such quaking fear within their hearts,  
these tidings true have made.  
Their loathsome looks declares their grief,  
and doth express their pain:  
His grief was such as could not weep,  
she spent her tears amain.  
Their household folks, and neighbours by,  
bewails their heavy hap:  
And do lament their luckless loss,  
at such a sudden clap.  
They all forthwith in mournful wise,  
to sea ward do repair:  
Whose yelling cries and scriching sounds,  
doth fill the empty air.  
The wambling waves, the crooked creeks,  
their sorrowing cries resound:  
The bellowing breath that breaks their breasts,  
doth make the banks rebound.  
The Mother when she saw the print,  
of Chest engraved in sands:  
Did fall down strait into a sown,  
and stretched forth her hands.  
And when she was revokte again,  
unto her former state:  
With fainting voice, she thus 'gan speak,  
why hindered you my fate?  
Why suffered you not me to rest,  
here dead upon this shore:  
That washing waves might carry me,  
to her that is my store?  
But Fortune pitying of their plaints,  
sends Mercury with speed:  
To Neptune God of swelling Seas,  
to stay his force with speed.  
For she would send a lucky Ship,  
of Albany to save:  
The silly Maid that thus was toast,  
within her careful cave.  
This Hulk from foreign lands did come,  
yfraught with traficks trade:  
And toward Albany with haste,  
his speedy passage made.  
The Seas were calm, the winds blow still,  
the lusty Mariners sing:  
To think upon their pleasant gale,  
they made the Seas to ring.  
Thus Neptune was their trusty friend,  
and Phoebus spread his light:  
Which on the smooth and waters calm,  
doth glister fair and bright.  
The Sun doth shine upon the sails,  
ystufte with wished blast:  
And as they thus did cut the tide,  
they spied the Chest at last.  
Wherein Dame julia was enclosed,  
and mused what it should be▪  
The Masters Mate did launch a Cock,  
and quickly went to see.  
What booty it was that they from board,  
aloof in Seas espied:  
He rows apace till he o'ertook,  
it tumbling with the tide.  
With grappling hooks, he forthwith hales,  
this new found pray to Ship:  
The Mariners help, through hope thereof,  
on hatches fast they skip.  
But when they had disclosed the same,  
and found therein a Maid:  
Of Princely favour, fresh and fair,  
their hearts were sore afraid.  
They mused how this chance should come,  
and took her carcase weak:  
Whose legs could not support her corpses,  
nor yet her tongue could speak.  
But being revived with vital drinks,  
her joints retain their strength:  
Her dazzled eyes received their sight,  
her tongue did speak at length.  
Then they demanded of her strait,  
what chance had brought her thither:  
Or who committed her to Seas,  
to feel both wind and weather.  
Whose seemly sight did so surpass,  
and rather did deserve:  
Amid the troop of Courtly trains,  
some Princely peer to serve.  
Then she with heavy cheer (God knows)  
began for to relate:  
The whole discourse of all her grief,  
and of her froward fate.  
Desiring them of pity pure,  
to grant her small request:  
And of two things to grant her one,  
which may procure her rest.  
Either to throw her into Seas,  
or carry her, where she  
May lead a sole Religious life,  
from cares to set her free.  
Declaring then that when at first,  
she closed herself in Chest:  
She thought the waters from her woes,  
would bring her days to rest.  
But sith that Fortune so was found,  
to be her friendly foe:  
Some foreign coast should her retain,  
to extenuate her woe.  
They did recomfort her again,  
and bade her not dismay:  
For that they were no Pirates priest,  
her body to betray.  
Ne were they any lechers lewd,  
of brutish savage kind:  
To spoil her chaste virginity,  
or mar her maidens mind.  
But bade her thank the heavenly powers,  
that had ordained so:  
That they amid the surging waves,  
her Chest by chance did know.  
For they would so provide for her,  
that she should have a place:  
To spend her time in mateless mirth,  
and run a quiet race.  
This said, they hoisted up their sails,  
and forward fast did high:  
No froward winds did let their course,  
their wished land to spy.  
But puffing sails, with gladsome gales,  
in wished wise did swell:  
And swiftlyer did their Ship slide forth,  
than any tongue can tell.  
The carving keel doth cut the waves,  
the maynsayle, topsail, and  
The Myssen spirit sail further course,  
aloft the flag doth stand.  
The Pilot marks his compass well,  
and Card with tentive eye:  
The masters mate doth guide the Stern,  
or Rudder rightfully.  
The Mariners on the Hatches close,  
to dice do fall apace:  
In token of a pleasant gale,  
to further forth their race.  
Thus sundering of the billows small,  
(the coast being fair and clear)  
At last the tops of haughty hills,  
within their sight appear.  
They pass the main Sea at the length,  
and strait one doth address  
To sound, and cries aloud (my mates)  
two fathoms quarter less.  
Approaching nearer to the land,  
each one his tackling plies:  
They strike down sails, the Bark road on,  
with stealing steps likewise.  
At Haven mouth they do discharge,  
a fair triumphant peal:  
That to the Town they plainly may,  
their voyage safe reveal.  
The Cannons, culverins, Sakers, and  
the Falcons breathed fire:  
The Demy pieces, Bassyliskes,  
fowl stinking flames did spire.  
The thundering shot did roar in th'air,  
and Echo like doth sound:  
The banks and craggy creeks like case,  
do make the noise redound.  
The flaunting Flag doth flourish forth,  
that stood aloft on Mast:  
The Anckors crooked with cables strong,  
out of the Ship are cast.  
And when they entered were on land,  
within the Haven Town:  
Th'inhabitants do welcome them,  
with mirth and high renown.  
Each one makes merry with his friend,  
they pass the time in joy.  
But julia hath no friendly mate,  
to comfort her annoy.  
You Maidens all, and Ladies both,  
mark Julia's heavy state:  
And take ensample by her love,  
which sorrows could not bate,  
Though once she had the world at will,  
if she had kept her so:  
Yet love and Fortune many times,  
do breed men much woe.  
And though she passing pangs did feel,  
and all for Charles his sake:  
She doth no whit repent her griefs,  
which she for him did take.  
But to be brief, within this Town,  
was kept a Monastery:  
Where were a sort of nuzzled Nuns,  
that lived there solemnly.  
Wherein by suit she doth obtain,  
a Vestal virgins trade:  
And there Religiously to live,  
till vital breath did vade.  
But now my wearied pen must pass,  
from Julia's life a while:  
(Who in Albania solely lives,)  
to Charles I'll frame my style.  
Who by this time recovered health,  
and left his sickly bead:  
And heard not yet of Julia's chance,  
that thought him to be dead.  
Now he pretends to link with her,  
his former vow to save:  
Providing him such needful things,  
as his affairs doth crave.  
And sent forthwith a Messenger,  
his friend the Priest to pray:  
To come to him, as promise was,  
who came without delay▪  
They only two, their voyage framed,  
this Marriage knot to tie:  
Which they before, by solemn oath,  
had sworn, but secretly.  
Charles road on towards Flint apace,  
and thought himself well blest:  
That time was come for him to match,  
with her he liked best.  
The nearer unto Flint he came,  
the greater was his joy:  
But when as he was thither come,  
he felt as great annoy.  
He deemed this time would make amends,  
for all his former woes:  
But it did more increase his cares,  
than pen can well disclose.  
When he was come to Wynefrides' Church,  
where as he longed to be:  
He lighted down where he was wont,  
his Lady for to see.  
There doth he mean for to abide,  
till Phoebus lost his light:  
And that his sister Phoebe shined,  
who rules the cloudy night.  
Then doth he mean to send for her,  
to finish up the oath:  
That each of them to others made,  
by former plighted troth.  
He little thought that she was gone,  
to lead a Nunlyke life:  
Or that in Albany she was,  
whom he should take to wife.  
But as he walked in the yard,  
with countenance full glad:  
One comes and doth declare the chance,  
his doleful julia had.  
And how she laid the Chest at shore,  
and closed herself therein:  
And how her death was sore bewailed,  
not only by her kin.  
But also by all those that dwelled,  
within the course of Flint:  
Whose love of all to her was such,  
their plaints they could not slint.  
And how the flowing waters did,  
o'erwhelm her Chest in Seas:  
Whose body drenched so in floods,  
doth Parents grief increase.  
You loovers that unto your Dames,  
are faithful just and true:  
May note what sorrows touched Charles.  
and made his heart to rue.  
The frozen sound of which cold words,  
did starve his heavy heart:  
Whose trickling tears did stay his tongue,  
for to express his smart.  
His present hue both wan and pale,  
declared his inward grief:  
His ruddy colour now is gone,  
he hopes of no relief.  
His hollow eyes and staring looks,  
his sighs and sobs extreme:  
Are witness of his woeful state,  
as did full plainly seem.  
All mirth and pleasure now is gone,  
converted soon to pain:  
And where before he wished to live,  
now doth he life disdain.  
Now deep despair hath won the place,  
where hope before was fixed:  
Affections lewd, and fancies fond,  
amid his thoughts are mixed.  
In desperate wise he runs about,  
devising every way:  
How he might ease his corpses of cares,  
that thus in strife doth stay.  
One while he means to run to shore,  
to pierce his tender heart:  
Where as his julia shipping took,  
from Flint for to departed.  
An other while he thought in Church,  
his own decay to frame:  
Where he at first infected was,  
with Cupid's fiery flame.  
Again he thought to drown himself,  
within the salt Sea flood:  
Whereas his julia cast herself,  
when on the shore she stood.  
That by that means his carcase might,  
be buried in that grave:  
Which she in steed of Marble stone,  
had chosen for her cave.  
Or if the waters had by force,  
cast up her corpses on sand:  
He thought that Fortune would conduct,  
him to that plot of land.  
Thus tossed long with divers thoughts,  
these fancies pass away:  
Then he begins to curse his lets,  
that did his promise stay.  
He bannes his sickness which was cause,  
of all his care and grief:  
And wisheth medicines had been bane,  
which lent him late relief.  
He cries on fates that have prolonged,  
his luckless line of life.  
And doth desire his twist to cut,  
by direful carving knife.  
But when the force of fury's rage,  
by fancy's flaming fire:  
Was quite extinct, and reasons rule,  
had cooled his hot desire.  
With wisdom than he wisely ways,  
his former fancies passed:  
And is decreed to stay bis mind,  
by reason's rain at last.  
This way to lead a wandering life,  
the faithful youth can choose:  
In foreign lands to waste his days,  
and mourn these noisome news.  
But change of place cannot transform,  
nor alter any mind:  
Though air and soil he do exchange,  
his grief doth stay by kind.  
He thought if in his country he,  
should longer time abide:  
The fresh remembrance of his love,  
from him would never slide.  
And that by traveling long he should,  
shake from his troubled mind:  
These cutting cares and ceaseless griefs,  
which destinies assigned.  
And being thus determined,  
to take his unknown flight:  
He doth return unto the Priest,  
that lodged at Inn that night.  
There unto him he tells his case,  
and how he doth pretend:  
For to forsake his country strait,  
with Father and each friend.  
And that he will no more return,  
till Fortune send some chance:  
To banish all his present cares,  
and passed joys t'advance.  
The Presbyter with good advise,  
doth counsel him again:  
His fancies fond, and raging thoughts,  
by reason to refrain.  
Persuading him that though he change,  
his country and his kin:  
His mind shall mask in mateless moan,  
his sorrows will not lin.  
And saith good Sir, leave of your plaints,  
let wisdom guide your will:  
And let not youthful fancies fond,  
oppress dame Reason's skill▪  
Know this, that sorrow hurtful is,  
to them that take the same:  
And nought avails them that be dead,  
but is to men great shame.  
Your mourning can not call the dead,  
to former state of life:  
Nor all the tears that you can shed,  
cannot redeem your wife.  
Your peregrines, your sighs and sobs,  
your travail and your pain:  
May not reduce your julia,  
unto her life again.  
You show therefore great want of wit,  
as every man may see:  
That do so vainly go about▪  
to will that may not be.  
You know what destinies decree,  
we must of force obey:  
And what the fates ordain to yield,  
with willing mind always.  
Consider that a wise man ought,  
with patiented mind to bear:  
What so the Princely powers decree,  
and neither hope nor fear.  
In vain he seeks that goes about,  
against the Heavens to strive:  
Wherefore with reason rule your mind,  
for Ladies are a live,  
That are as comely as she was,  
to whom you lent your love:  
Whose favour you may eke obtain,  
if you your mind remove.  
Though Fortune now have caused your loss,  
in breeding of your care:  
Yet tarrying time, she will again,  
your former joys repair.  
For as the pleasures that she lends,  
do not continue sure:  
Even so the trouble that she sends,  
can not always endure.  
Though she with frowning frozen face,  
do lower on you a while:  
Yet doth her favour come as fast,  
when as she list to smile.  
A wise man in the midst of cares,  
with wit himself doth arm:  
So that no storms of sturdy strife,  
can aught procure his harm.  
For as the Poet Homer feigns,  
that Aten barefoot goes:  
She can not touch no hard thing sure,  
but lightly treads on those  
That armed are with constancy,  
and patiently abide:  
Each sturdy storm that Fortune sends,  
at every time and tide.  
Whereby is meant calamity,  
whereof she Goddess is:  
Can not bereave a wise man's heart,  
from quiet patiented bliss.  
But such as are of simple mind,  
effeminate and base:  
Whose tender hearts can not abide,  
Dame Fortunes high disgrace.  
Wherefore good Sir, content yourself,  
with reason rule your mind:  
Embrace Dame Patience in your breast,  
so shall you comfort find.  
Bestow your love within your strand,  
where are such store of Dames:  
As you may largely take your choice,  
and so quite quench your flames.  
Consider if you do forsake,  
your Parents and your friends:  
And go into a place unknown,  
than all your pleasures ends.  
Ne dare I back return again,  
for fear of future hap:  
Your Parents both will wail your loss,  
wherefore prevent the trap.  
That may entangle them in grief,  
and shorten not their days:  
That have been careful for your life,  
in all your passed ways.  
Wherefore I crave, abolish will,  
let wisdom you retain:  
Let Prudence eke by due foresight,  
prevent all future pain.  
And take my counsel in good part,  
that wills you to be wise:  
Nor let no griefs nor sorrows past,  
your presents thought surprise.  
When he had spent such words (as these)  
Sir Charles did strait reply:  
You have but wasted thus much wind,  
I like it not perdie.  
Not all the world can me persuade,  
my julia to forget:  
So steadfastly upon her love,  
my constant heart is set.  
I can not blot out of my mind,  
her friendship and good will:  
Which hitherto I have retained,  
and so I will do still.  
Her feature I do still behold,  
within my careful mind:  
Though she by death departed is,  
and I am left behind.  
Yet while I live her monument,  
within my mind shall rest:  
Which was her true and trusty heart,  
within her constant breast.  
Should I go seek to live in mirth,  
or yet to have mine ease:  
And she to lodge among the waves,  
in midst of surging Seas.  
No no, no dangers shall prevail,  
to make my heart to shrink:  
Although it were in honest wise,  
in saltish Seas to sink.  
I would upon myself revenge,  
her death were yet no shame:  
But that the law of God and man,  
doth quite forbid the same.  
Yet do I hope as Fortune brought,  
me to bestow good will:  
So will she send some kind of means,  
by chance my life to spill.  
But as the perils of the Seas,  
She did for me long take:  
Even so the dangers of the land,  
I'll suffer for her sake.  
She reft of life, doth ride on waves,  
that here and there doth range:  
And I in wandering sort will pass,  
through Countries far and strange.  
No dangers shall affright my mind,  
yea, were it for to pass:  
Even down to hell for her sweet sake,  
where Orpheus sometime was.  
Therefore leave off your wasteful words,  
for what I have decreed:  
My purpose is not to delay,  
but put in proof with speed.  
When as the Priest perceived him,  
his follies to pursue:  
And that he could not him persuade,  
he doth his rashness rue.  
And 'gan himself for to debate,  
if he should back retire:  
His Parents would suspect that he,  
their sons death did conspire.  
He therefore thought it better way,  
then to revert again:  
To go with him, though of his griefs,  
he took some part of pain.  
And thus being both determined,  
not backward to return:  
Sir Charles laments his love, the Priest  
his Country's loss doth mourn.  
But Charles (God knows) had triple cause,  
for to lament in mind:  
Who lost his love, and left both kin,  
and countries sight behind.  
When they had ended all their plaints,  
to Couch apace they hide:  
Where soaking sorrows, for to sleep,  
them utterly denied.  
Yet Nox by course, doth run her race,  
their cares though did not cease:  
But as the night did wax away,  
even so their griefs increase.  
When Lucifer Dame Venus' star,  
doth glister in the Sky:  
In Eastern coast, denoting plain,  
that Titan's spouse is nigh.  
These woeful mates, arose forthwith,  
from out their restless bed:  
And to the isle that Britons called,  
I'll Mona, both they fled.  
Where they like faithful friends do live,  
but yet in mournful wise:  
As Orestes, and Pylades,  
whose sorrows, books comprise.  
Thus Charles still tossed, with crushing cares,  
which vexed his secret heart:  
To wail his wastlesse woes oft times,  
would draw himself a part.  
And to the Sun would thus complain,  
O Titan it may be:  
That thou this time by far reached looks,  
my Julia's corpse dost see.  
I would thou hadst such uttering words,  
as thou hast shining beams:  
Then wouldst thou show, if now her barge,  
do floote on striving streams.  
Or if the same on shore be cast,  
by means of tossing tide:  
O that thou would express to me,  
where julia doth abide.  
Where so her coarse doth rest, I would▪  
what danger so befell:  
Remain with her, if thou to me,  
her biding place wouldst tell.  
But sith thou want'st the use of speech,  
to bring me to her sight:  
Yet for my sake bestow on her  
(then wont) a fréendlyer light.  
When obscure clouds do dim thy beams,  
and dark thy shining rays:  
Let not her corpses yet want thy light,  
that in the Seas decays.  
Thus unto Fowls, to Trees and Beasts,  
and stones he would complain:  
As though they wit and senses had,  
his meaning to retain.  
The land of Ladies breed his grief,  
and Music caused his moan:  
Their sugared words, mirths, silver tunes,  
in grief would make him groan.  
The Priest also laments his lot,  
as he alone doth trace:  
And often to his Country's soil,  
his staring eyes would gaze.  
He wisheth still her carcase there,  
where as his heart doth rest:  
Such troubled thoughts he carries aye,  
within his beating breast.  
But few affection fond can tame,  
or Cupid's force withstand:  
For grief and love, are void of rest,  
both bound in sorrows band.  
If body might fly where the mind  
is oftentimes retained:  
Full many would not use that place,  
where else they are constrained.  
Thus though they use t'acquaint themselves  
with states, and of the best:  
Yet could no pleasures purchase place,  
within their careful breast.  
Incessant cares thus pining them,  
redoubling daily woes:  
They thought to seek their deaths forthwith  
amid their bloody foes.  
They give therefore t'inquire for wars,  
Where often death is found,  
Afore the time: where bloody blows,  
in boisterous sort abound.  
That using feats of manly Mars,  
they may cut of their care:  
And rather shorten up their lives,  
then live still in despair.  
When Lady Ver had thinly clothed,  
Sir Tellus gay with green:  
Since their arrival there where now,  
nine quarters they have been.  
The men of Albany that time,  
were at a civil war:  
As Fortune sendeth sometimes luck,  
for Regions nigh and far.  
The King was fain to send for aid,  
to Mona, where he had:  
Well furnished men, whereof the Priest,  
and Charles were very glad.  
The courtesy that Charles this while,  
used in this Island Town:  
Did draw the hearts of many men,  
that were of high renown.  
He therefore joyful at these news,  
did move his suit as then:  
To Chyrall of the isle to have,  
the charged of hundredth men.  
Such friendship he therein obtained,  
that though a stranger borne:  
Yet did they grant to him his suit,  
and thought thereof no scorn.  
Thus Virtue makes a stranger oft,  
full natural to grow:  
Within a foreign country strange,  
where no man doth him know.  
The Governor of the isle that time,  
did here report of right:  
Of Charles his skill in Martial feats,  
who was a valiant Knight.  
Whose courage stout (yet mild and meek)  
with forward activeness:  
Declared although his years were raw,  
his prowess and worthiness.  
For wisdom had bestowed on him,  
her precious gifts at large:  
Which rather furthred his request,  
to have a Chéeftaynes' charge.  
The Soldiers liked so of him,  
that they do all agree:  
With frank consent, that he on them,  
a Governor should be.  
He being chosen Captain now,  
to go to Alban land.  
Selected him an expert man,  
lieutenant of his band.  
The Ancient bearer he did choose,  
his Ensign to display:  
The Sergeant Corporal to keep,  
his Soldiers in array.  
A Trumpeter with mighty breath,  
to sound the feats of war:  
The Phife and Drumster with his sticks,  
to make the Drum to jar.  
The Priest he also doth appoint,  
in Office for to stand:  
As fit for him to keep his book,  
as Clerk of all his band.  
A gallant Galley was ordained,  
the Soldiers to transport:  
Wherein they went, and quickly came,  
to king of Albans Court.  
Of whom they were well entertained,  
the Tents forthwith prepared:  
And strongly pitched, the Trenches delved,  
the regal Camp to guard.  
The light Horsemen, with jack & Spear,  
and steelly caps forth went:  
To scout abroad, the Lances strait,  
to rescue them were sent.  
In prison paths, least enemies,  
should passage have that way:  
Old sturdy Stagers, wise in wars,  
in secret ambush lay.  
Munitions, rampires, forth were framed,  
them from their foes to shield:  
The brazen pieces carried were,  
that fittest were for field.  
The Rebels likewise had prepared,  
a power huge and tall:  
The Varlets meant (but God would not)  
to give their Prince a fall.  
The Wings, the Fronts, the Battle main,  
were ordered on each side:  
The Ensigns noted how the one,  
the others force defied.  
The Hosts now marched in Battle ray,  
till both sides were in view:  
And eke in reach, than Trumpeters,  
an eager Onset blew.  
Round boisterous balls of sturdy steel,  
the Cannons breathes about:  
The Curriers and calivers then,  
their leaden pellets shout.  
The prancing Coursers with this noise,  
to wreakful wrath were moved:  
The worthy wights, on trampling Stéeds,  
their passing prowess proved.  
Their Horsemen pierced, with Lance do lie,  
of Helmets quite bereaved:  
Their Pikemen in like sort do lie,  
their woeful wounds receau'de.  
The Pikemen, losing Burkonet,  
and Spear likewise ybroke:  
With manly force of stubborn strength,  
doth strike full many a stroke.  
His Arming sword, than forth he draws,  
himself for to defend:  
Wherewith he maims his enemies fierce,  
that seek his life to end.  
The wounded men to cabin hies,  
to staunch their wasting blood:  
The maimed men, and dead men float,  
aloft in crimson flood.  
When thus a while the armies fought,  
the Princess party won:  
By tracing ground, they got of them,  
both wind and shining Sun.  
Sir Phoebus' blerde the Rebels eyes,  
his glistering beams so shined:  
Their sight obscured was with smoke,  
that flew with blast of wind.  
Thus wind and sun assist the King,  
and God would have it so:  
The Rebels' Camp, no order kept,  
but scattered too and fro.  
Some here, some there, for secure fled,  
some backwards run apace:  
The venturous victor's Prince his side,  
with speed pursues the chase.  
Retiring now they are struck down,  
the Trumpets gladly sound:  
Their back retreat, with joyful tunes,  
doth Echo like rebound.  
Such evil haps prepared are,  
for them that do assay:  
Against their regal Prince to rise,  
with sword in hand to slay.  
If any Captain there won Fame,  
than Charles did purchase praise:  
Who did excel each Soldier there,  
in all his warlike ways.  
He ventured more, his cares compelled,  
he desperate was in deed:  
And Fortune furthred his attempts,  
and sent him friendly speed.  
The victor King, when foes were foiled,  
assigned Chéeftaines than:  
To guard the Holds that Rebels kept,  
before the broil began.  
Each one was pointed to his place,  
and Charles as Fortune lent:  
Unto the Town, where julia lives,  
with Garrison was sent.  
Though froward Fortune at the first,  
doth show her envious guile:  
Yet at the last she turns her wheel,  
and then doth smoothly smile.  
He nought surmised such blissful lot,  
unwares was him assygnde:  
Or that he should his julia see,  
for whom he mourned in mind.  
But Fortune lo, unlooked for,  
to Julia's sight him brought:  
Whose carcase long ago consumed,  
amid the Seas he thought.  
Thus Charles with courage took his course,  
and doth his voyage bend:  
With those his men unto the Town,  
which he should now defend.  
As soon as to the Town he came,  
he walked the walls about:  
To spy if any breach were there,  
to enter in or out.  
And walking thus when as the Sun,  
had almost run his race:  
He did espy a troop of Dames,  
that came with solemn pace.  
Which were the Lady Prioress,  
with Nuns that came behind:  
Who walking were about the walls,  
to recreate their mind.  
He marched forward towards them,  
and they to him likewise:  
And Charles upon these modest Dames,  
doth fix his gazing eyes.  
Both 'gan each other to salute,  
with such a modest cheer:  
That what in words twixt them did want,  
in gesture did appear.  
This holy rout, by two in rank,  
did orderly pass by:  
And as they went, Sir Charles on them,  
doth cast attentive eye.  
Among the which Dame julia was,  
who had of him a sight:  
And he again surveyed her shape,  
and took therein delight.  
Two sorts of folk the eye will first,  
be sure for to behold:  
Either a friend that's well beloved,  
or else an enemy old.  
Her feature better pleased his mind,  
as Nature wild it so:  
Then all the beauty of the rest,  
that were within the row.  
And she again did fancy him,  
whom she in mind did guess:  
The featured form of Charles his face,  
in countenance to express.  
Her wailing weeds and vestal robes,  
which she that time did wear:  
Disguised her, that scarce her face,  
could in his sight appear.  
His headpiece likewise which he wore,  
with cewrates clasped one:  
His sleeves of Mail, with other things,  
made him to her unknown.  
But though apparel seemed strange,  
and made them to surmise:  
Yet they each other did suspect,  
by only view of eyes.  
The mind sometimes will guess and judge,  
that which the eye knows not:  
As their two minds, each other knew,  
the sight their forms forgot.  
Thus both suspended in suspect,  
away they both do go:  
The one not knowing the others name,  
as chance appointed so.  
The doubtless Fame of both their deaths,  
with strangeness of attire:  
Made them to hang in ceaseless doubts▪  
and slack for to inquire.  
By this the Stars in Firmament,  
like twinkling sparks arise:  
And night compels each one departed,  
to rest their weary eyes.  
Charles went to bed, but took small rest,  
her shape renewed his thought:  
And made his musing mind to mask,  
where fancies fond him brought.  
The morning now appeareth bright,  
Charles and the Priest with speed:  
Do rise, and to the Church to pray,  
to go they are decreed.  
But Charles his mind was chiefly bend,  
his fancied face to see:  
And to behold his julia,  
yet thought it was not she.  
When into Church they entered were,  
they might behold in sight:  
A Table hang over the head,  
of every Nun aright.  
Wherein insculped were their names,  
according to their place:  
Thus after Charles had said his prayers,  
he lifted up his face.  
And 'gan to read these written names,  
there present to their sight:  
Until they came unto the name,  
that Charles did most delight.  
At last within a Table fair,  
in Roman letters fine:  
julia Brittania written was,  
there open to their eyen:  
This name revived his dulled spirits,  
this comforted his heart:  
This brought his passed pleasant joys,  
and ended present smart.  
Now he records within his mind,  
that julia is the Maid:  
Which he at his arrival viewed,  
while he their passage stayed.  
Yet fainting fear doth make him doubt,  
lest one of them there were:  
Among the Nuns to him unknown,  
that did this name eke bear.  
Again, he hopes that Fortune might,  
convey her to that place:  
From greedy jaws of fishfull floods,  
thus doubted he the case.  
That virtue is rare and seldom,  
his stay eke very strange:  
Whose state (though it be good or ill)  
Dame Fortune cannot change.  
He took his pen and ink in hand,  
and wrote under the same:  
In his own speech and British tongue,  
his right and proper name.  
So under julia Brittania there,  
he Charles Brittania writ:  
That she might read the same, when she  
came there again to sit.  
He also wrote where he abode,  
and in what street or Inn:  
The charged also that he did hold,  
he writ likewise therein.  
Now his affairs constraineth him,  
for to departed away:  
For to provide the towns defence,  
as much as in him lay.  
They thence departed with gladsome minds,  
in hope of future joy:  
These gladsome news that he hath seen,  
drives out all dark annoy.  
Within a while the Prioress,  
with all her Nuns drew nigh:  
And into Church they roundly came,  
when Charles was gone pardie.  
The Vestal Virgins, two and two,  
toward their seats resort:  
And set them down each in her seat,  
as was their usual sort.  
julia, likewise approaching near,  
by sudden chance did see:  
In pendent Table over her place,  
more written than should be.  
When morning prayers were finished,  
no time before she found:  
She read these lines, the view whereof,  
doth make her joys abound.  
Her pleasures banished all care,  
she knew that Charles was he:  
Which she by tracing near the walls,  
before her face did see.  
The Prioress when all is done,  
doth homeward high again:  
The Sun had compassed the South,  
and shows his heat amain.  
The dinner time was now at hand,  
to dinner strait they went:  
Charles all this while did long to hear.  
how he his writing spent.  
When as the Prioress dined had,  
than julia goes with speed:  
Desiring of her Mistress then,  
to grant her leave in need.  
For she a Brother had that was,  
but lately come to Town:  
Who was a Chéeftayne of a band,  
appointed by the Crown.  
For to defend that City there,  
and that she saw him not:  
Those three years space, the Prioress,  
her leave did then allot.  
assigning one to go with her,  
a Vestal Virgin eke:  
She takes her way with speedy space,  
with Charles forthwith to speak.  
They both unto their Chamber came,  
and found the Priest and he:  
Conferring closely twixt themselves,  
who should that julia be.  
There julia viewed her Charles a space,  
with friendly greeting shown:  
His Head piece than was laid aside,  
which made him better known.  
His heart did give him it was she,  
whom he in mind did love:  
Thus both as strangers stood a space,  
and could no whit remove.  
But when they did each other know,  
their tears ran down like rain:  
These sudden joys, that then they felt,  
their speech did quite restrain.  
He clasps her hard within his Arms,  
his tears like Fountains flow:  
And she her Arms about his neck,  
doth strongly close also.  
The one the other so embraced,  
She clang as close to him:  
As Hero to Leander did,  
when he to Sest did swim.  
Ulysses and Penelope,  
conceived no greater joy:  
When after spoil he hasted home,  
from ten years siege of Troy.  
At length these words to her he spoke,  
O julia this thy sight:  
Hath caused my passing pleasures great,  
and put my cares to flight.  
And art thou her whom I supposed,  
by death to be destroyed?  
Have these mine eyes once more of thee,  
their present joys enjoy?  
Come Death now when thou wilt to me,  
for I have lived to view:  
Her only sight, whom I always,  
have found my friend most true.  
Now do I not desire to live,  
but only for thy sake:  
That didst the perils of the Seas,  
for me so undertake.  
And art thou she which fell report,  
did brute the tide had torn?  
Art thou the wight that hast for me,  
those passed perils borne?  
O Fortune now thou favourest me,  
though long time thou didst frown:  
Thou hast conducted us both safe,  
to cast our sorrows down.  
Now may we knit that faithful knot,  
which we before had sworn:  
Now I account me happy thrice,  
that once was thought forlorn.  
I never thought to view thy face,  
but that the Dolphin fierce:  
Should in the steed of funerals,  
have made her corpses thy hearse.  
But sith once more I have thy sight,  
ere thou do part me fro:  
Where I have nought but Parents left,  
I will my life forego.  
Now will we back revert with speed,  
to view our friends again:  
Who for our loss have long bewailed,  
in bitter grief and pain.  
When he made mention of their friends,  
her tears she could not hold:  
And unto Charles with weeping words,  
this heavy tale she told.  
¶ O my dear Charles, how have the heavens  
thus raised up our joys:  
That once were plunged in the pit,  
of deadly deep annoys?  
I never thought to view thy face,  
when Fame did blaze thy death:  
Or that we should perform the vow,  
that we had sworn by faith.  
The loss of thee did grieve me more,  
than any tongue can tell:  
No friend but thee I did account▪  
as thou mayst find right well.  
My Parents think, their Daughter dead,  
but Fortune suffered not:  
And sith thou lyu'ste, I may account,  
right lucky was my lot.  
The dangers that I have abode,  
all only for thy love:  
Not my report, but present state,  
most perfectly can prove.  
Yet do I count them all but light,  
ne did I mean while life:  
Sith thou wast gone, whilst I did live,  
to be a wedded wife.  
But for thy sake to spend my days,  
within that sacred place:  
Where I might waste my weary time,  
for to lament my case.  
But sith the fates have us preseru'de,  
contrary to our thought:  
I yield me now unto thy will,  
to use thy mind in aught.  
I know thou wilt not swerver from bounds,  
of virtues sacred lore:  
But wilt regard my maidens mind,  
as thou hast done tofore.  
Until we knit the nuptial knot,  
which yields us lasting leave:  
To join in fruits of Marriage Rites,  
till death do us bereave.  
If it be so your mind revert,  
contrary to your vow:  
Then grant that in the steed of wife,  
your servant me t'allowe.  
¶ When she these words had uttered,  
his crystal tears distylde:  
From out the fountain of his eyes,  
which at that time were field.  
He said, O julia leave those words,  
you do me double wrong:  
To think that I should now recant,  
and loving you so long.  
Why should you so submit yourself,  
to me that am unmeet:  
To match with you in Marriage state,  
you show your humble spirit.  
I had a heart more hard than flint,  
or any sturdy steel:  
If I should scorn your love that did,  
for me such sorrows feel.  
If you had been of basest blood,  
that ever could be found:  
Your Virtue would persuade my mind,  
in Marriage to be bound.  
I think myself well recompest,  
for all my hurtful harms:  
That Fortune once hath given me leave.  
to clasp thee in mine arms.  
Wherefore rejoice, for ere long time,  
we will departed this land:  
To rue our Parents and our friends,  
with in our native strand.  
Who will be glad of our return,  
and pardon our offence:  
That have thus long in unknown land,  
as exyles been from thence.  
Now Phoebus steeds do lodge in West,  
and night with darksome shade:  
Begins to overspread the earth,  
when julia and the Maid,  
Departed home, and Charles likewise▪  
to Coutch doth now return:  
Where as he rests in gladsome glee,  
that erst in cares did mourn.  
When Eous dame Phoebus steed,  
discovered had the light:  
And Sol amid the Hemisphere,  
Dame Nox had banished quite.  
Then Charles repaired to the King,  
desiring a discharge:  
Of captains room: the Prince did grant,  
rewarding him at large.  
And frankly paid him for his pain,  
appointing him t'assignassign:  
Whom he thought meet, as Captain over,  
his Garrison to reign.  
Then he to julia back returns,  
appointing out of hand:  
His Lieutenant that had the charge,  
for to conduct the band.  
He also got for julia leave,  
of Prioresle with speed:  
To go with him, who thought she was,  
his Sister borne in deed.  
Charles, of the Soldiers takes his leave,  
and of his friends also:  
Who sorry are, that he from them,  
in such a sort should go.  
And she of Lady Prioress,  
doth take her last adieu:  
Her parture was bewailed sore,  
of all the Vestal crew.  
Thus Charles and julia with the Priest,  
and Julia's Maid went down,  
Unto the Rhode, where then did ride,  
the Navy of the Town.  
There Charles doth hire a Ship forthwith,  
him and the rest to freight:  
They enter in, they hoist up Sails,  
and take their passage strait.  
The Ordinance are then discharged,  
the Trumpets sound amain:  
The Soldiers bids their Captain then,  
farewell, though to their pain.  
The wind is calm, the tide doth serve,  
the Fishes finely play:  
A gentle gale of pleasant blast,  
doth drive them swift away.  
They still continued on their course,  
good Fortune was their guide:  
Until their Ship in Cambria soil,  
at wished Rhode doth ride.  
From thence with speed, to Flint they hide,  
where they no sooner came:  
But tidings of these lucky news,  
to Parents came by Fame.  
Sir Gaulfride with his wife repaired,  
in haste their Son to meet:  
And Owen with his Lady came,  
their julia for to greet.  
When Charles and julia saw their Sires,  
and Mothers in like case:  
They fell down flat upon their knees,  
desiring them of grace.  
And pardon for their great offence,  
which love, not they had wrought:  
And that th'affection that they bore,  
this trespass past had brought.  
Their Parents pierced with pity then,  
and melting into tears:  
Forgave them this so great offence,  
of their unbridled years.  
Each side agrees to Marry them,  
or they away departed:  
That had by proof a trial true,  
of either's faithful heart.  
The wedding day appointed was,  
to Owen's Court they go:  
For to provide the Nuptial feast,  
great charges they bestow.  
The fixed time is now at hand,  
the gladsome loovers rise:  
And put on them their wedding ray,  
prepared in sumptuous wise.  
The Mother decks her Daughter then,  
in Vesture rich and fine:  
Charles wants no costly garments gay,  
that may content the eyen.  
Her Tresses trymde on shoulders hang,  
ybound with silver lace:  
As custom was, and is this day,  
in England in some place.  
Her curled Crine, were frizzled fine,  
her fingers small beset:  
With Rings most rich, & Diamonds brave,  
the best that they could get.  
Her forehead fine, with Byllamont,  
beset with Pearls she ware:  
Her seemly hair, like golden wire,  
hung down both fresh and fair.  
Her Partlet with the sleeves agreed,  
wrought all with silver fine:  
The glistering spangs that hung thereby,  
like twinkling Stars did shine.  
Her Gown was made of Velvet black,  
with silver fringe about:  
Her kirtle on white Tynsell cut,  
which through the cuts shines out.  
Her Chain five fold about her neck,  
with precious stones bedight:  
As Diamonds, Emeralds, sapphires fine,  
which glistered fair and bright.  
Her Tablet rich, had also a  
Quadrangle Diamond brave:  
Besmearde within with Civet fine,  
the best that man might have.  
A Chain also about her waste,  
in steed of Bridely belt:  
And thus bedecked, she quite forgets,  
the sorrows that she felt.  
To Church they go, and Charles between,  
two Chinals on each side:  
Two ancient Knights, of spotless fame,  
to Church do lead the Bride.  
The true love knot that time was knit,  
and fyrmde between them two:  
Which nought within the world can lose,  
till death do them undo.  
Gaulfride and Owen with their wives,  
and all their noble train:  
With speed return from out the Church,  
and homeward high again.  
To dinner now, they all do go,  
where dainties do abound:  
They want no solemn silver tunes,  
that Musics Art can sound.  
The Sun did seem to leap for joy,  
the Birds delighted more:  
In densed groves about the Court,  
than they were wont before.  
The feast being now solemnized,  
Dame Nox doth Tellus clad:  
Which mantel made of pitchy clouds,  
and with her darksome shade:  
The Supper being ended then,  
they spend the time in play:  
With Masks, and other pastimes brave,  
as fittest for that day.  
A Princely bed ordained was,  
the Ladies all a roe:  
Brought julia to her spowsefull couch,  
as custom is also.  
Such delicates prepared was,  
as for that time was fit:  
A Posset sweet, besprent with Spice,  
for julia than they get.  
She drinks then to the Maidens all,  
and bids them all adieu:  
And saith to them, thus long I have,  
remained a Virgin true.  
But now farewell Virginity,  
the flower of virtues praise:  
God grant you to be Virgins pure,  
until your Marriage days:  
The Ladies then from Chamber went,  
and Charles doth come to bed:  
Where usual sports frequented were,  
till fancy waxed dead.  
And when the force of Venus' fire,  
was quenched for a space:  
These loovers then to lose no time,  
each other do embrace.  
To kissing then, they kindly fall,  
their minds for to content:  
But how should I express their joys,  
that lack experiment.  
Let it suffice what Nature wild,  
in such a kind of case:  
They both fulfilleth, and God hath wild,  
for man to tread that trace.  
You loovers that have tried like tricks,  
with them you loved best:  
May judge by your forepast joys,  
they took but little rest.  
As for my part, I am but green,  
my years unripe and raw:  
That never yet assayed the force,  
of Cupid's wanton law.  
But let us leave these loovers thus,  
a mid their sweet delight:  
That in the fruits of wedlock bands,  
do waste the weary night.  
The feast continued long, whereat  
men had no need to fast:  
But as each thing serves for a time,  
so end all things at last.  
The feast being done, the covenants made,  
such bands that time were framed:  
As touching lands and Marriage goods,  
that needs not here be named.  
Let it suffice, they had enough,  
their state for to maintain:  
Which done, Sir Gaulfride with his wife,  
returned home again.  
Sir Charles then with his Sire in law,  
doth mean in Flint to dwell:  
And resting thus, with julia▪  
he likes his tarrying well.  
He had not there sojourned long,  
not past two months or more:  
But that such heavy news did come,  
as made his heart full sore.  
For Letters came, his aged Sire,  
was now departing life:  
And very sick, his charge lay then,  
to leave his loving wife.  
Whom he alas, had thought to see,  
when he came back again:  
But Fortune gave him his farewell,  
which put them both to pain.  
Behold her false and flattering face,  
that fleers with feigned cheer:  
Whose whirling wheel doth turn each hour,  
as now it may appear.  
My Muse alas doth fail me now,  
my senses serve me not:  
My quaking quill in quivering hand,  
doth make my pen to blot.  
My tears doth so bedew my style,  
that I ne scarce can wright:  
My staring hair, upon my head,  
through fear doth stand upright.  
Wherefore you furies me assist,  
Allecto be mine aid:  
Megaera grim, and Tisiphone,  
come help me now dismayed.  
These woeful Letters being read,  
than Charles doth haste anon:  
He posting rides, but ere he came,  
his sorrowful Sire was gone.  
Who royally possessed his grave,  
with funerals most fit:  
But Fortune now disposed was,  
her poisoned spite to spit.  
Charles doth in Anglesie abide,  
in order to dispose:  
His father's goods that lately died,  
whereof the griefs arose.  
This Anglesie an Island is,  
environed on each side:  
With surging Seas, an arm whereof,  
from Wales doth it divide,  
Whereto they go in passage Boats,  
that at the floods doth rise:  
And ferry men transport them over,  
as Passengers likewise.  
julia, misliking that her Spouse,  
doth use such long delay:  
To Anglesie doth mean to go,  
to know his cause of stay.  
And also for to view the lands,  
that there she did possess:  
Her coming thither was the cause,  
of all her deep distress.  
In purple Wagon she doth ride,  
with all her comely row:  
Until she came unto the flood,  
that parts the Countries so.  
Then to a wherry Boat she goes,  
but mark what did ensue:  
The weltering waves do roughly rise,  
and boisterous tempests blue.  
The whirling winds do raise the waves,  
the floods in Boat do flash:  
And sturdy storms of tempests strange,  
against their faces dash.  
The Boat with sturdy storms doth stand,  
in staggering state alas:  
And neither back nor forward could,  
from present peril pass.  
The waters still increasing thus,  
the Boat was field to brim:  
And julia then amid her woes,  
in washing waves doth swim.  
At last ouerladen with the weight,  
of waters to the brink:  
The stely julia, more the ruth,  
in surging deep doth sink.  
The woeful wights that strive with waves,  
on God for mercy call:  
Their piteous plaints, and shrieking cries,  
doth pierce the Air withal.  
And julia while her Farthingale,  
held up her careful corpse:  
O Saviour (cries) on thy handmaid,  
with mercy take remorse.  
Lose me not whom thou hast redeemed,  
with blood of thy dear heart:  
O Charles take now my last farewell,  
for now I must departed.  
By this her clothes being thoroughly wet,  
doth cause her carcase sink:  
Which makes my quaking heart to quail,  
when on her state I think▪  
The churlish Channel drowned her corpses,  
whose Virtue aye did shine:  
The loss of her lamentfull was,  
that had the Seas for shrine.  
Yea whom the floods on mainest Seas,  
did suffer for to scape:  
A broken branch, or arm thereof,  
devowres her seemly shape.  
The ruthful rumour of this chance,  
was scattered here and there:  
(When harms begin, they fall by heaps)  
and came to Charles his ear.  
Alas this chance might well be spared,  
for Charles already had:  
A heavy hap, the death of Sire,  
which made his heart full sad.  
When as he heard this ripe report,  
he lost his senses quite:  
In madding mood, now here, now there,  
he runs with troubled sprite.  
If that I had ten thousand pens,  
I could not write his pain:  
Which for the loss of his dear love,  
he did that time sustain.  
Whose churlish chance so chose by fate,  
doth wash my cheeks with tears:  
That such a virtuous worthy wight,  
should thus cut off his years.  
But to be brief, he forthwith doth,  
a poisoned drink provide:  
Of Hemlock, Henbane, and like herbs,  
none knew, but one beside.  
Then two days thence, with merry cheer,  
he calls for Horse in haste:  
And bade his friends and men to come,  
to search where she was cast.  
With blown Bealts, with Boats & Hooks,  
with Drags and Ropes they go:  
To fish for her, whose loathed loss,  
did breed this wastlesse woe.  
But Charles unto a Barge ascends,  
and bids the Boats man tell:  
Where as his Julia's corpses did sink,  
when surging waves did swell.  
The Boat man said, Sir Charles even here,  
your Julia's body sunk:  
With that he drew him forth a glass,  
and up this poison drunk.  
All they had thought how that it was,  
a drink to suage his thirst:  
They nought supposed the force thereof,  
would make his bowels burst.  
With that he suddenly doth leap,  
into the waters deep:  
That men might know his constant heart,  
from danger could not creep.  
And there he sinks, no help prevails,  
the fates decreed his time:  
No dread he had, thus fancy fond,  
procured his sinful crime.  
The cause wherefore he drunk this drink,  
was lest that nature should,  
Provoke him for to save himself,  
by swimming as he could.  
Or if the sweetness of his life,  
should make him faint through fear:  
And so he should prolong his days,  
those bitter brunts to bear.  
The Story saith, that they were found,  
embracing both together:  
And nothing strange, who once were saved,  
in spite of wind and weather.  
And no great marvel can it be,  
sith they in life lived so:  
As neither Seas nor lands prevailed,  
to part each other fro.  
This shows as well the force of love,  
as did the envious state.  
Of Etocles, and Polynices,  
express the force of hate.  
They both were buried in one tomb,  
and had one solemn shrine:  
Their Funerals did force the tears,  
of many weeping eyen.  
And being closed within the vault,  
both in one careful cave:  
This Epitathe which long remained,  
was graven on their grave.  
In ancient British rhyme it was,  
with Letters all of gold:  
That every one that passed by,  
might their estate behold.  
Upon our tomb power forth your plaints,  
you friends that pass this way:  
And on our Grave, behold the state,  
of our unsteadfast stay.   
TWo faithful hearts of noble blood,  
sometimes we did express:  
Though destinies have thus decreed,  
our ends without redress.  
And though amid our greenest years,  
where life hath highest power:  
The heau●nly powers decreed by death,  
our corpses for to devour.  
And that our steadfast love alas,  
hath 〈◊〉 our own decay:  
Yet that our souls in heaume 〈…〉  
O Passengers do 〈…〉  
You loovers that do 〈…〉  
ere you go by vou●●saue:  
With lifted hands and moisted tears,  
to wet our friendly grave.  
We have been loovers as you be,  
you shall be as we are:  
We now have past the pangs of love,  
you yet must suffer care.  
If you do love, we did the like,  
and living loved aye:  
And now under this stone we lie,  
closed up in slimy clay.  
Our pomp is past, our pride is gone,  
so is our vain delight:  
We are returned to that we were.  
and so must every wight.  
Our careful minds that could not rest,  
are now extinct by dust:  
And as we two are gone before,  
so follow needs ye● must.  
Remember therefore as you love,  
hereafter you shall live:  
Take heed least to affection fond,  
your mind you wholly give.  
〈…〉 in beauty's beams,  
〈…〉 and clay:  
And know that flesh at last shall vade,  
and beauty's flower decay.  
Let Virtue be your guide in all,  
so shall you love aright:  
And fix no fancy on the face,  
wherein is vain delight.  

THis long continued on their grave,  
till time did it deface:  
And so likewise did tract of time,  
their careful grave disgrace.  
I would all loovers so to love,  
as julia and her Fere:  
Yet would I wish them not to be,  
so desperate as they were.  
That love may have that love requires,  
(exceped be sin) God send:  
And let all loovers prey, that love  
may have a better end.   
¶ Thus endeth the Tragical history of Charles and julia.  
FINIS.