IVst in the Cloud doth lovely CUPID stand,  
With Quiver at his side, and Bow in hand:   

Which shows when his swift Arrows pierce the heart,  
The wound must cured be, by Love, not Art:   

And MARS the God of War to give renown  
Unto desert, doth here true Valour crown,   

VIENNA Nature's pride doth parallel,  
VENUS herself, who did her sex excel.   

The joined hands to the Spectators show,  
That Valour doth to Beauty homage owe.   

And with the stately Steed that stands in view,  
Sir PARIS did great troops of Foes subdue.   

The Castle strong and cruel jailors key,  
Are Emblems of a Prince's misery.   

If that the bars were red and Scutch'on white,  
The Coat would show who did this Story write.    


VIENNA  
No Art, Can Cure This hart  
Where in is storied, the valorous achievements, famous triumphs, Constant love, great miseries, & final happiness, of the well-deserving, truly noble and most valiant kt, Sr Paris of Vienna and the most admired amiable Princess, the fair Vienna.  
London Printed for RICHARD HAWKINS and are to be sold at his shop near Sergeants' Inn in Chancery Lane    

TO HIS WORTHY Brother in law, Mr. RICHARD MINSHULL, all health and happiness.  

MOre Rich-art thou in mind then Mynes,  
but Myn-shall be the joy of heart;  
Since still thy love with mine combines,  
and smells of Nature more than Art:  
For blood with blood, and sacred writ,  
Such knots of love in Love hath knit.   

To thee therefore I only send,  
this Spider's Web so vainly spun,  
Which my best thoughts to thee commend,  
since what is done, for thee is done:  
If any tax my idle brain,  
Say once a year fond fools do reign.   
M. M.   

To the Reader.  
NOt with intent to pass the speaking Press,  
Or challenge Praise of any more or less.  
This Book was writ, the Author for his pains,  
Did neither aim at merit, praise, or gains;  
To gratify a well deserving friend,  
This Story feigned, at vacant hours was penned:  
Which though now to the world exposed it be,  
The Author's heart is from vain glory free.   


THO. CROKET in praise of the Authors Worke.  
IF graver heads should hold it to be vain,  
that thou (well struck in years) dost write of Love,  
Say thou the finest dye soonest takes a stain,  
and soundest Wits light subjects often prove:  
But thou hast tempered so thy Love with Arms,  
with Knightly prowess, and with Martial feats;  
That thy smooth style (like sweet bewitching charms)  
compels all sorts to read without entreats:  
Then blush not since thy Pen such Art hath shown,  
as proves the difference 'twixt Love and Lust;  
And stirs up Valour almost overthrown,  
whose Arms lie cankered with consuming rust:  
But rather glory in thy taken pains,  
for which the world indebted aye remains.  
THOMAS CROKET.   

To the deserving Author.  
Whilst Paris thy great Rape shall be renowned,  
Or Troy itself on earth hath any sound;  
That in thy breast didst foster such a flame,  
To waste the Town, and yet preserve the Name:  
So long (Sir Paris) thy chaste fires shall last,  
Which (though not with such fury) burned as fast;  
And whilst the City of Vienna stands,  
A virgin Town maugre the opposite bands,  
Of insolent Turks vnravished by their steel,  
And never their invasive Arms to feel:  
So long a date Vienna thou dost give,  
To him whose Pen hath made thee ever live.  
Tho. Haywood.   

VIENNA here presents to you,  
Both Love and Valour, great and true,  
And in this Story you shall find  
Pregnant conceits to please the mind:  
Which read, and view, and reap the gains.  
Then thank the Author for his pains.  
R. R.   

THy pleasing Story gives most true content,  
to all that have survayed thy witty Lines:  
For thou to Mars and Venus grace hast lent,  
and in thy Book both Love and Valour shines:  
For which, let Martial Knights and Ladies fair,  
say, and say truth, that this is past compare.  
T. M.   

THy Mars-like Paris, and Vienna fair,  
most pleasing do appear eclipsed no way:  
Who views the same, thou needst not doubt or fear,  
for it is decked in Wits rich array,  
There's such new pleasing ways to please the mind,  
That all, that read the same, content will find.  
Samoth Egnirawniam.   

SInce graver wits (so much) thy Book commend,  
Whose censures do my judgement (far) transcend:  
Why should not I rest silent, and admire;  
Knowing my skill answers not my desire?  
The reason is, I (rather) will improve  
My ignorance, then to conceal that love,  
Which duty prompts to speak, which still dothlive,  
To honour thee, since praise I cannot give  
To equalise thy pains in study spent,  
Which now (most fluently) in compliment,  
Shows the exactness of a solid brain,  
That makes so small a volume to contain,  
Love, Valour, Fortitude; what not that's rare?  
But in thy (pregnant) Lines composed are?  
Wisdom, Conceit, Art, Learning, Knowledge, Wit,  
Do grace thy work to make it exquisite:  
Time shall proclaim thy worth to future days,  
And Fame perpetuate thy living praise.  
Io. Egnirawniam.   

AS most esteem of jewels for their worth,  
And prise them high, though not in gold set forth:  
So virtuous minds when they this Story view,  
Admire and say (for it) great thanks is due:  
If others cannot add (to it) like praise,  
Time vows to store such worth for future days;  
My Pen here stops, yet Nature's stream runs so,  
Rivers will ebb to th'Sea from whence they flow.  
Mat. Egnirawniam.   

IF duty did not bind, desert would move  
my Artless Pen thy Story to commend:  
Since better plots of Valour, Art, Wit, Love,  
to Momus view, the Press did never send.  
Ralph Egnirawniam.   

ANd I the last, but not the least, whose Love  
to thee, and thine, is tied in treble bands;  
For marriage, blood, and friendship which may prove,  
our constant buildings are not on the sands:  
Therefore with thanks for this thy well wrote Story,  
Though mine it is: yet thine shall be the glory.  
Your Kinsman, Brother in law, and Friend, Richard Mynshull.    

VIENNA.  
WIthin the Principality of Viennois, whilom there lived and ruled; as Dauphin, a most renowned Prince, no less esteemed for his admired wisdom, then highly honoured for his respected greatness; But so absolute was he in opinion, so perverse in disposition, and so severe in government, that he made his will his God, and rigour his law. This Dauphin had but one only Daughter, whose exquisite beauty was so beautified with rarest virtues, that men honoured Nature as a God in her perfections and held her more than a woman in her virtues. Amongst many Knights that then followed her Father's Court, there was a most well deserving aged Knight (who was known to be as sufficient, as he was sufficiently known) named Sir joques, who had but one only son called Paris, whose but budding years, decked with Nature's pride, and honoured with timely Knighthood, well challenged renown for his right, Venus for his friend, and Fortune for his servant. But it fortuned (so Fortune would) that this young Knight casting casually his careless eye aside in Court, espied the young Princess, the fair Vienna, (for so after the City was she called) talking with her selected and endeared friend the Lady Izabella, whose gracious demeanour he so devoutly noted, and whose unparalleled beauty he so feelingly admired, that openly commending the one, he secretly affected the other. Many were the unwonted thoughts that now troubled his troubled mind, and more than many were the unquiet and universuall cares that now attended his new entertained desires. Still he gazed, and gazing sighed, and sighing grieved that so he gazed, yet could he not cease to feed his hungry eye, nor durst he once be seen to look on her, one whom he could not but look. For as commanding love did flatter his aspiring hope; so the remembrance of Phaeton's fall, did dismay him with a deadly fear. And fear he did, lest that just disdain should beget in her bitter revenge, and black revenge should bring forth untimely death.  
Thus in seeking to pass the mean, poor Paris died for being so mean, and in this disconsolation, glad he was to smother his sorrow to his greater grief, not daring to acquaint any but La-nova his second self, his companion in Arms, and the sole secreter of all his secrets. To him, and none but him, did he in sorrow bewray his love, and in love bewail his sorrow.  
La-nova pitying his case, dissuaded him from the danger of Jxions' love, least with more repentance he vainly with Apollo pursued Daphne. Heavens forbid (said he) my Paris eye should with the Eagle soar against so bright a Sun; or that your desire should with the Bee delight in such flowers, which being sucked, will yield more poison than honey. Ah Paris, Paris, seek not to obtain that with care, which you cannot keep without danger. To desire to be a King, is no Just title of a Kingdom; and to say you love her, no sufficient desert to win her. Desire not then beyond thy reach, lest thou fall in thy hope. Nay, admit that her chaste conceits would entertain Venus' deceits, yet follows it not, that joves' royal bird would pray on silly Flies. Alexander would deal with none but Kings, nor Vienna with any but Princes; low shrubs whither ever at the Cedar's root. Beware Paris, lest coveting with Icarus to soar above the Sun, thou be punished in his pride under the Sun. Thy deserts are I confess many, and meritorious, but the state of her estate stands not with thy indignities; men are weighed by the abundance of their fortunes, not by the worthiness of their virtues. Then wade no further in this fourd, but let Armours, not Amours, be the subject of thy thoughts, since the Camp affords honours, and the Court such dangers.  
Paris thus dehorted, resembled the Palmtree, that the more it is pressed down, the more it striveth upwards, so the more his friend misliked of that he desired; the more he desired what so his friend misliked. Such was the unresistable force of his inlimitable affection, that in spite of reason he was enforced to do homage unto passion. For where Love is predominant, there all other affections attend on it. And therefore he concluded still, and ever to love her; but still, and never to let it be known to her. To approve which, he requested La-novas company that night secretly to give Vienna music, who seeing his unremovable resolution, vowed himself to his fortunes. The same night when quiet sleep possessed each weary eye, he and La-nova taking either of them a well tuned Lute, went directly under Vienna's window, where sweetly striking their pleasant strings, Sir Paris thus cheerfully warbled out his Lady's praise.  

Though present times allow of former age,  
And yield the pride of grace to joves' fair Queen,  
Though juno's grace, did please each gazing eye;  
And all men thought like grace was never seen:  
Yet were I judge, to judge of sweetest grace,  
Your grace, for grace, should have the chiefest place.   

Though Pallas patroness of Wisdom be,  
And wisest heads do homage to her shrine:  
Though Doctors draw their learning from her brain,  
And all men hold her sacred and divine:  
Yet should I judge of Wit, Pallas should find,  
Your Grace should wear the Laurel of the mind.   

Though Paris, Venus, doomed, for fairest fair,  
Of Goddess three, that strove for beauty's pride:  
Though Gods, and men, confirmed her beauty's Queen,  
And every eye, did honour Vulcan's bride:  
Yet might I judge; my judgement should be this,  
Venus was fair; fairer Vienna is.   

Then leave your strife, strive not you worthy wights,  
Yield beauties prize, unto my Princess Praise:  
Blush Trojan, blush thy Helen's bue is stained:  
Cease, cease, you Knights, your Lady's praise to raise:  
Since so my Love, excels those Goddess three,  
That all excelled for grace, wit, and beauty.   
Vienna pleased with the tune, but more with her praise, was moved with desire to know who they were, that so sweetly sung, and so affectinately honoured her; but do what she could, she could not know them by any means, which much grieved, but more troubled her disquieted thoughts. Still she conferred and talked with Jzabella of that heavenly harmony, and ever she commended, whom she knew not to commend. For Paris having ended, where yet he had not begun, conveyed himself away as privately as might be. But the next following night they went again with doleful Recorders, on which they carefully sounded. Paris unknown, thus plainly made his passion not his person known.  

How should I joy, why should I sing,  
That nought but woes, and sorrows bring?  
What is that God of torments great?  
What is his name? where is his seat?  
Below, O no? there is not hell;  
On high; fie, fie, there bliss doth dwell.   

Look in my eyes, let Judgement show,  
Where that place is of endless woe:  
Behold my heart, fresh bleeding still,  
Where grief doth live, and Love doth kill:  
Then see, ah me; where sorrows dwell,  
'Tis Love, I prove; that men call hell.   

Love is that God, that men torments,  
With raging woes, and sad laments:  
My heart his seat, where he doth reign,  
With great contempt, and proud disdain  
This, this it is; makes love a Hell,  
Then Care, prepare, to ring my knell.   

Farewell most fair, Beauty adieu,  
I dare not love, but honour you;  
Stars fixed so high, dims my weak sight,  
I may not gaze on Lamps so bright;  
Which proves, and moves, my tongue to tell,  
That Love, proud Love; is worse than Hell.   
This sorrowful Song ended, the Music ceased, and Paris returned to his Chamber. But Vienna who attentively had listened to this careful Ditty, knew not well by his over-passionate conceit, and alluding and insinuating Song, that Love had made her a Mistress, and Fortune had sent her a servant. Yet could she not imagine who he should be, but much she was discontented that so it should be, her Princely towering thoughts were not subject to Subject's fancies, nor would she admit of servile servants. And therefore because she would punish their pride in their presumption, she went the next morning secretly to her Father, and told him how that the two passed nights, there had been some (not known to her) that had bestowed Music on her, under her Chamber window, and how that one of them the first night revealed his love in her praise; and the second night bewailed his affection in his own grief. And therefore she humbly requested him, that he would command a privy Watch to be made that following night, that they might be discovered in their follies, and she live acquitted of such vain fancies.  
The Dauphin discontent that any in his Province should so proudly presume to build his nest in the Sun, gave in secret charge, that six of his Guard should watch as that night, to apprehend and bring them before him the next day. All which was done accordingly: And Sir Paris not misdeeming any cross adventure, came as he was wont with La-nova, to offer the sacrifice of his consecrated Music to his devoted Saint. But they no sooner tuned, but they were near over-turned. For the Watchmen fearing their escape, thought to make them sure by laying them on the ground. But Sir Paris, provided always for all perils, seeing such rude entertainment, and holding them but for stragglers, armed his whole endeavours to return them condign thanks for their so unseasonable courtesies, in somuch that with La-novas furthering aid he wounded most of them, made them all to rely more on their legs then their hands. So that being left alone, they easily recovered their Chamber, without being discovered of any, which so much incensed the Dauphin, that leaving the reynes of his unlimited anger to his then enraged will, he commanded that secretly twenty men well appointed, should the next night lie in ambush to apprehend them.  
Now Sir Paris holding that their late disturbance was rather casual, then occasioned, went, in his unsatiable desire, the next night again. But no sooner had they taken stand, but that they found themselves entrapped in the snare; which they finding unresistable, yielded without resistance. The Watch glad of their apprehension, held themselves so secure of them, that not regarding (the night being dark) what they were, they carelessly went along towards the Castle, until they came by a narrow Lane, that turned into the heart of the City, whereunto Sir Paris all suddenly thrusting La-nova forceably, took by force a Halberd out of the next Watchman's hands, and stepping into the Lane, kept the entrance from them all. The Watchmen now grew more furiously wrathful, then advisedly bold, and so confusedly assaulted them, that Sir Paris laying the first three on the ground, the rest (over-hastily still pressing forwards) stumbled, and fell upon their Companions, so many, and so thick, that themselves barred themselves from the entrance, which advantaged Sir Paris and La-nova so much, that having time to turn them to the next turning, they got to their Chamber before they were descried, or could be well pursued. The Dauphin understanding the next morning of the uproar, and of their escape, was much malcontented in himself, the Court wondered at the accident, but Vienna now recounting their undaunted courages, with their noble qualities, conceived them to be men of high esteem, and now more favourably, and affectionately did labour the knowledge of them, but never after durst they presume to venture the like adventure again, which much grieved Vienna, and more incensed the Dauphin, who being frustrated of his expectation politicly, yet plotted this devise.  
First, he caused a Crystal Shield, and a Chaplet of gold to be made, both, passing fair, and rich, then delivering them to Herald, he commanded him to take them, and to carry them throughout all the City, and by sound of Trumpet proclaim a solemn justs (free for all comers) to be kept 40. days after: And that he that should win the honour of the day, should by Viennas hand be crowned with the said Chaplet as Victor, and receive the said Shield as the best deserving Knight. By this mean means, the Dauphin thought to find out the unknown Lover. For it was an Article of his belief, that in honour of his Daughter, he would (as a Knight) make trial of his fortune; and as a Lover disclose himself, in his devise; where by observance (the instrument of knowledge) might well discover him. Great preparation there was made on all sides, and diverse Knights and Barons of sundry Provinces, came as well to see the admired beauty of Vienna, as to win renown for renowned Chivalry. Amongst whom at last, though not least in worth, came Sir Paris, and La-nova, well mounted on white fiery Steeds, suitable to their white plain Armour, without either mark, or devise: For neither, neither durst use for fear of being discovered by them. But the day, and the Dauphin being come. Vienna was set (richly roabed in Arabian Bisse) on a fair tapistred scaffold, the Chaplet on her head; and the Crystal Shield standing before her at her feet; so that she seemed another Pallas in a second Venus shape. Many Knights amazedly beheld her, most desired her, all admired her Thus when each hungry eye had fed, but not filled his covetous sight, the Herald standing up (after the summoning sound of Trumpet) bade every Knight do his best devoyre. Then desire of honour, armed each martial heart with double courage and every Knight's courage was redoubled with hope of honour and Vienna's favour: So that the justs grew great, and both nobly did each Knight, especially La-nova bare himself. But Sir Paris whose unknown prowiss was not yet fully proved, seeing a Burgonian proudly brandishing his Lance before Vienna, for the honour which yet he bore away from all, was so enraged with choler and jealousy, that fiercely spurring his hot ready Horse, he so forceably charged, and overcharged him in the encounter, that he laid the Burgonians pride in the dust; which Vienna noting, noted him for the most redoubted, and best meriting Knight of them all. Still her eye followed his fortune, and still his fortune was remarkable, and pleasing to her eye. For never ceased he just, nor never jousted, but he over-turned some one, in which performance he was applauded of every one. Such was his heroical fortitude, and such his quick delivery, and manly carriage of himself, that in the end there was left none, whom he had not overthrown, nor any overthrown, that would re-assay to overthrow the overthrower. Thus stood unvanquished Sir Paris, like invincible Hercules expecting a charge; but in finding none he found his own discharge. So that the Heralds (with Trumpets sounding his praise) brought him to the scaffold, where the fairest fair, and gracious Vienna graced his victory, with setting the Chaplet on his head, and giving him the Crystal Shield, she blushing said: Receive noble Knight thy most well-deserving honour, and heavens make thee happy both in thy designs, and thy desires. Sir Paris more proud of her words, then of his reward, received them at her hands, with more pleasing content than Paphos' Queen did the golden fruit, and humbling himself on his knee, he obsequiously reverently, yet fearfully, kissed her hand, and laid his other on his heart, in token that he was hers in all service; and so rising up he made a low obeyzance, and both parting, both of them looked back at one instant upon each other; a true record, that their liking hearts rejoiced in the sight of either other. But Sir Paris being come to the rest of the Knights, departed with them, and as they rid each one towards his several home, he and La-nova took an occasion to light to mend their Saddles, the rest passing carelessly on, which they seeing, took the next turning, and so were gotten away before they were missed, and mist before they were known. The Dauphin thus deceived by him he meant to deceive, was much agreved; so were the Knights that they could not tell by whom they were vanquished; & so was Vienna, that she knew not by whom she was honoured. She thought and ever looked that he should have discovered himself, that he might the better be respected of her, and the world take further knowledge of him and his merit. But the clouding of himself, assuredly assured her, that he, and none but he, was the man, that so sweetly (under her window) sang her praise; that so dolefully recorded the passion of his tormenting love; and that so valiantly forced to flight her Father's Guard; His secret departure, argued (she thought) so much; and his invaluable valour showed no less. Desire now, of she knew not what, made her love she knew not whom: oft she wished she knew him; still she talked of him, and ever she highly commended him; but her wishes were but vain thoughts, and her words but as alluring winds.  
During this their discontentments, The Duke of Vandoume (now called Vendosome) being brother to the issueless King of France, a man so powerful in means, and so popular in State, that nothing could make him unhappy, but the excess of his happiness: This Duke, I say, being the first Prince of the blood, was so transported with such an aspiring pride, and unlimited desire of Rule, that he could not digest a small expectation. His desire of Sovereignty carried him so beyond the bounds of all respects, that neither Wisdom could inform his mind, nor Honour sway his actions. Nature nor Duty could prescribe him any law, though he were a Subject, subject to the law. How to gain the Crown was all his care: His glorious consideration thereof, made a continual examination of all his thoughts, how he should be possessed thereof, Ambition (the Nurse of disloyal plots and practices) said, The King must dye; and Resolution (the performer of all deeds) answered, He shall dye. But how, or by whom, he knew not. Young men (he said) are not ripe enough for such an action, and Old men are too timorous for so great an enterprise. The rashness of the one, and the fear of the other, are the ruin of such business. To trust others then, is to deceive myself; For hope of reward (for the preservation of a King) will, I fear, betray my trust; And then I must conclude, that though a desire to steal, make not a Thief; yet my intent for treason, will make me a Traitor; and in the punishment thereof, I shall find no distinction of persons. What resteth then but force and Arms? my sword must plead for possession, Rome could not resist Cesar, when he came to the gates, in the strength of his forces. I will therefore first fortify myself with potent friends, dissemble for the time, my intent, and take counsel of three sorts of men: of the Lawyer, that speaks not as he thinks; of the Physician, that doth not as he says; and of the Divine, which oftentimes teacheth better than himself leads, and always better than the people follow. I know the least wind of the people's favour will fill my sails full; Their eyes are fixed upon my greatness, and they observe me already for my interest; The King hath no issue, and therefore of less regard; his time is but short, and Respect only waits on posterity, that promiseth continuance of reign. No sooner (says some) is a Collateral heir known, but the King's Testament is made; why then should he live to command me, that am borne to rule? He may live to bury me, where then is my Crown? I must and will reign. Upon these movable sands (like a foolish Merchant, that adventures all his substance in a broken vessel) did this fond Duke build both his resolve, and his hope; And to give success to his trust, he sent presently to the Dauphin of Viennois (whose principality was in manner equal with a Kingly Royalty) to require his daughter, the fair Vienna, in marriage for his son. The haughty Daulphins' mind, did well sympathize the Duke's nature; both their prides, and desires, were reciprocal: only the Dauphin was more reserved, and ever better advised; but this motion did so attatch him with joy, to think that his daughter should in time be a Queen, that he covetously embraced the Duke's request, and wished that Commissioners on either side, might be nominated, and apppointed, to confer and conclude thereof.  
This consent of the Dauphin did so elevate and animate the Duke, that he thought himself already an invested King. The incorporating of Daulpheny to his Dukedom, would (he knew) make him undoubtedly, redoubted great; and the uniting of both their powers with their adheres, would well enable him to affront the King, who now was fitter for a Cloister (as he thought) then for a Crown. Thus we see, that where men hath least reason, there they are aptest to believe anything, that but flatters their desires. Men that fall into Treachery or misery, not known nor foreseen, are worthy of some compassion; but they that wilfully run into rebellion, or calamity, deserve no pity, but shame and death. In all our attempts, justice, and discretion, should be the plotters; and Honour, and Moderation, the Actors. A violent humour overthrows the Master. Kings we know are made only by God, either in justice to execute his wrath upon a sinful Nation; or in mercy, as well to preserve and set forth his worship and glory, as to maintain his people in righteousness and peace. For neither Royal birth, succession, election, usurpation, conquest, nor right, can so establish, or perpetuate a Royalty; but that God when he pleaseth, can, and will translate it to others. But now the disloyal and deceitful Duke (being as far from procrastination, as the Dauphin was greedy of dispatch) sent his Commissioners for the recapitulation, and perfecting of such Articles, as should be proposed on either side. In brief, they agreed on all points, and assigned a day for the young Prince of Vandoume to come to the Daulphins Court. This being divulged & made known to Sir Paris, did so excutiate all his thoughts, and so inflame his perplexed heart, that he was ready to expose himself to all dangers and hazards. In this distraction, La-nova found him, and knowing the cause of his distemper (for Rumour had possessed all men with it) he grieving, thus sadly said unto him. Let patience my Paris conduct thee out of this stormy Sea, into a more quiet Port, Fortune should have no power over fortitude and courage. What thou never hadst, that thou dost not loose. Thy inability, and imparity, could never promise thee any hope; and thy long nourished despair shall now find a period, that in the end, would have brought thee to thy end. Let necessity then make the now suffer constantly; and custom will make thy sufferance easy. Sir Paris who did hear, but not hearken to what his friend had so discreetly delivered, regarded him no more than a greedy Lawyer doth his impoverished Client, but still deeply excogitating how he might intercept, or pervert the intended match, at length he all sighing said: This Gordian knot must be cut asunder, though I want an Alexander's sword. Industry, and Policy, oft effects unlikely things; and we should not judge that which is possible, nor that which seems impossible: as it is credible, or incredible to our capacities. The eternal wisdom hath (I know) a reserved power, and a secret intention, to bring things to pass, which the wisdom of man cannot conceive, nor see, till it happen, and be done. What though Vandoume be mighty? A small Rock may ruinate a great Ship. I will not so loose Vienna, but where I want force to play the Lion, there will I assay to gain by fraud. La-nova he said welcome, thou comest in a useful time, thou must secretly fit me with a grey beard, a pair of Beads, a Friar's Gown, and Hood. I must turn Friar, and Prophet all at once. It must be so, the plot is laid, and we must be Actors both in the play.  
La-nova, knowing that his undaunted courage could never brook a Corrival, though he were never so great, did much fear that he intended some stratagem, and therefore he told him, that unless he might know his purpose, he would make no such provision. Why said Sir Paris, my thoughts dwell in thy breast, and in thy heart, doth my love (next to Vienna) live. How then canst thou be a stranger to my purposes, that art the Treasurer of my secrets? Thou knowest La-nova how jealous the Dauphin is of his safety; His rigorous (I might say cruel) Nature hath taught him to fear many, whom many doth still fear. Thou knowest also that Kings are ever suspicious of their Successors: Experience makes them to fear, lest they should lose that, which they, and many others seek, with greatest dangers to obtain. My project is, to make the King and the Dauphin my instruments to break the marriage; give me Pen, Ink, and Paper, and thou shalt see what a fearful fire, I will kindle, to burn up all their matrimonial hopes and agreements. But to give more life hereunto, thou must play thy part. Thy Uncle is Steward to the Duke of Vandoume, and thou thyself art gracious in his presence. To him must thou post, in show of love to see him, and in all duty to tender thy service; And when opportunity shall fit thy purpose, thou must take occasion to wonder, that so great a Prince hath his Armoury so ill stored, and by way of persuasion, thou must tell him, that no man's title is so right and just, but that it may find work upon their best advantages, and therefore it is a provident policy for his Highness to be presently furnished for all contingents. This La-nova, will so feed, and sway his ambition, that he will make overhasty and unadvised provision. The knowledge whereof, will so prepare and fortify the King's jealousy, that it will crown my device with belief and success. La-nona glad to see him so well resolved, promised his best endeavours, and in the performance thereof had his wished success. But before he went, he brought Pen, Ink, and Paper, whereupon Paris (more Prophetically than he thought) writ as followeth.  
When Vandoumes first borne, shall Vienna wed,  
The Daulphins' Land, shall doom the Dauphin dead:  
Pride scorns that time should check Vandoumes French Fate,  
Thy death must help to Crown his Royal pate.  
La-nova divining that this procreated conceit, would bring forth some good issue, could not but laugh thereat; and in that joy, he went immediately to make provision both for himself, and his friend.  
Now each Wednesday, in every week, the Dauphin (more for applause, then to do good) received himself (as he went to hear Mass) all the Suitors Petitions; and in the afternoon viewed, and considered of them. Upon this day, Paris having leapt up his fraudulent Libel, like a plain Petition, went to the Court well furnished for the purpose, where he did so well personate a holy Friar, that Lynx's eyes could not discover him. There did he unsuspected deliver it, and returned without perseverance. Afterwards the Dauphin upon the perusing of them, found and read (amongst the rest) Paris his threatening and suffocating Prophecy, which did so poison and swell him with suspicious thoughts, and most fearful surmises, that in his ireful indignation, he cried out with the King of Moab, How shall we avoid the deep dissembling of Ehud? Plain dealing I see is dead without issue; and all Honour, and due respects are buried, in the insatiable desire of Rule. Surely this is no enigmatical, nor promiscuous Oracle; but a plain prediction sent by God, or some good man in zeal and favour of Princes, and in tenderness of our safeties. O most treacherous and perfidious Duke, that in the bonds of Alliance, wouldst cut off the small remainder of our days; to work thy further bloody ends.  
My daughter shall not so be Queen by our death; Nor shall our Subjects be so slain in his unnatural and rebellious War. I will not suffer the true Vine to be so displanted, nor shall my connivance traduce me for his impunity. For though wisdom permits not, that I detect him openly, for fear of making him my implacable enemy; yet will we send a private, and an unknown Messenger secretly to his King, who shall (upon his Royal word for the concealment of our intelligence) discover, and lay open, Vandoumes most impious and pernicious intended Treason; and after shall he cast (by our instructions) such store of oil up. on that jealous flame, that it shall (at least) burn up all Vandoumes hopes of further proceeding with us. Thus, did such hate proceed from fear, that after a small respiration, he sent accordingly to the King, who was no sooner possessed thereof, but that his divided thoughts made such intestive war within his breast, that he knew not what to say, or do. His fraternal love made him weep, to see Nature so monstrous and unkind; and fearful jealousies (a disease incident to Kings) called upon justice, and said, that corrected Treason was the life of a Prince.  
Distrust now still dreamt upon Murder, and unquiet fear could not be secured, but with execution: Then Affection told him, that then we come nearest unto God, when we judge with pity, and pardon in mercy.  
In this doubtful Combat of the mind, he sent for the Duke, who no sooner came, but that taking him alone into his private Chamber, he with a mild severity, thus breathed out his grief, and his just and loving rebuke.  
It is our pleasure Vandoume (for so thy Sovereign calls thee) that thou neither interrupt us while we speak, nor at our conclusion, make any answer or excuse; Then know, that if we were as ready to punish, as thou art ready to rebel; Thou shouldst now find a sharp censure in steed of a kind brother; and we should be freed from an incompatible Traitor, in lieu of a loyal Subject. God that protecteth Kings, hath now made thy implicit Treason transparent. Thy proclivity to rule; thy thirsting after popularity; thy subtle taxing of our Government: thy needless provision for Arms in a well settled Peace: and thy disguised desire to match with the Dauphin, is not unknown to us; And thou that in pride, couldst not brook a Superior, art now by divine justice, brought beneath the fortune of thy equals. It is now in our power to humble thee, but not to make thee humble; Such is thy aspiring Ambition, that nothing but a Crown can limit thy unbounded desires. For neither the terror of Law, the instinct of Nature, my binding duty, nor the awe of thy due duty, could keep, or confine thee, within the circumference and compass of thy Allegiance. Knowest thou not that the jealousy of a King is death? and that a Prince is neither a kin, nor allied to a Traitor. Admit that thou hadst prevailed in thy most nefarious rebellion. What had been thy Conquest? but terror of conscience, daily doubt of Treason, nightly fear of murder, the shame of thyself, the hate of men, and the vengeance of God. O what bitter fruits shouldest thou so untimely have purchased. The usurpation of my Crown (which a few days would peaceably give thee) could not Patronise thy fratricide, nor dispense with the murder of thy Sovereign. How fond, inhuman, malign, and degenerate hast thou then showed thyself? Many are the probabilities that thou soughts my life, and more than many are the inducements why I should secure myself by thy death. And what mercy canst thou expect there, when thou didst intend no pity. I grieve and blush to see such an Antipathy betwixt us. But it shall suffice, that to my glory, and thy shame, I give the now pledge of the virtue of my love, that thou mayest hereafter the better love me for my virtue: For here I do not only fteely pardon thee, but do entertain the a new to dwell ever in my dearest affection. A brother's frown should set with the Sun; and here shall be the period of my wrathful indignation. Then let this new birth beget in thee a new life; and let this make such a stable connexion of our loves, that we both may hereafter contend, whether we with a better heart have given thee thy life; or that thou canst more affectionately retaliate our kindness. Only thou shalt abjure the match with the Dauphin, and instantly write to him, that we oppose and prohibit the same, And therefore shalt thou pray his patience, and the continuance of his love; and allege, that neither Subjects in matters of state, nor Princes of the blood in marriages, can dispose of their wills, nor of themselves, without the permission of their King. This was no sooner said, but that Vandoume (kissing his Sovereign's hands, with full falling tears (expressing both his grief and shame) most willingly performed the same.  
O most prudent Paris, with what prescience, caution, and facility, didst thou infatuate and delude these wise and great Princes; and how subtly hast thou made them thy deceived Agents, to work upon each other, all only to preserve thy weaka hopes of fair Vienna, But though Paris now had thus dispersed these terrifying clouds that threatened shipwreck to his high desires, yet durst he not dream after better fortunes, though he held the success of his late fraudulent fiction very auspicious; But pleasing himself with what he had done, and affecting still his own affections, he walked into the chamber of presence, where Vienna, Jzabella, and other Ladies, were playing at Cards; Thither he went (under colour of attendance) to feast his eyes, and to Paradise his heart with the beloved sight of his all-admired and affected Lady. O with what wonder, did he now observe her matchless beauty, her graceful Majesty, her pleasing words, and her sweet delivery. And what a conflict was now grown betwixt his desire and despair: All his thoughts were extravagant, and at war with each other. For as desire did find content, with joy, to be in her presence; so Despair denied him all hope, with distrust of any comfort. His heart now began to rebuke his eyes for soaring so near the Sun, and for gazing after impossibilities. But his eyes told his heart, that no disdain could dwell in so rare a perfection. In this perturbation of mind did he stand, until Vienna being dry, called to him for a cup of wine, which he in the pride of that employment hastily brought, but delivered it with great astonishment and stupidity (as being over-surprized both with joy, and fear) he all-shaking, flashed some of the wine over the cup, and so wet both their hands; which one of the Ladies perceiving, scornfully said; Sir Knight, you are over-bountifull, I am sure, my Lady's hand called for no wine. There is no offence (answered Vienna) at all; He knew my hand was dry. So Madam, said Izabella, is your foot. My foot, she replied, is further off from the burning Sun, and receives moisture enough from the humid earth. But neither, said Izabella, did need any wine. We called, said Vienna, for it, being dry; And how could our body receive it, unless our hand had first taken it? A dry cup and a clean hand, said another Lady, had been more serviceable. Why said Vienna, clean hands are often washed, and dry cups quencheth no thirst; Then must dryness have moisture, and he hath freely given it us: but no more, we have lost our game in his defence. Paris, whose ecstasy had given way to these passages, recollecting himself, humbly said, What (most gracious Princes) you have lost in the game, that have you won by patience in your meekness; but how shall I worthily magnify your great worth, that (notwithstanding these tart Ladies bitter provocations (hath showed the fullness of all virtue in your goodness. Let your Highness but pardon my unstayed hand, and you shall ever find me more ready to shed my dearest blood in your service, than I have been either to wet your fair hand, or to spill your wine. Thanks good knight, said Vienna, we desire no such satisfaction; your taken pains shall be all your punishment. Paris being proud of this conceited favour, (though Vienna in her mild nature pleaded in his defence, only to cross the other Lady's derision, and to approve her own acuteness) withdrew himself to the next window, where with his Diamond he thus writ.  
In spite of scorn, true virtue did me grace,  
In scorn of spite, J'll laugh in Envies face.  
But more considerately weighing his own case, he entertained better thoughts, and therefore writ in the next stage of the window.  
If Rivers great, from smallest Brooks do flow,  
Poor hopes in time, far better haps may know.  
But now Fortune that waited (though yet a far off) on Paris unknown merit, gave him a befiting occasion to do Vienna (though still covertly) more pleasing and more glorious service. For there had lately fall'n out in the French Court a great contention, betwixt the native Barons, and some several noble Foreigners, that then for their pleasures, followed that Court in honour of the King. The controversy was, whether was most fairer or the more virtuous of these three Ladies; Valentia the great Duke of Bourbon's daughter; Vienna, the Daulphins' sole heir of Viennoys; or the Lady Margaret, sister to the King of England. Great was their debate, and many there were that maintained each several Lady's beauty. In so much, as they fell from arguing to anger, from anger to blows, and from blows to wounds. The French King offended with their offending uproar, and great neglect of their due respect to place and person, commanded peace upon their Allegiances: And after being pacified, and fully possessed with the cause; he held the occasion well worthy dispute, but their faulty courages, and our furious proceedings, punishable in the place: Yet fearing the further ill that might in many particulars well ensue thereof; out of his deep insight, he pardoned their great oversights, and calling them all before him (after some few reprehending words) he thus with a mild majesty, briefly and wisely appeased them all.  
First, he commanded that a solemn and royal justs (in honour of the three Ladies) should be proclaimed throughout all his Kingdom to be holden in Paris, at Pentecost following, free for all comers, and that she whose Knight should honour her, with the honour of the day, should be ever had, and held, for the fairest of the three; and that his Queen should crown her with a Crown of white Lillies, beset with precious stones, as Sovereign Queen of most perfect beauty: This mild and pleasing shower, so kindly distilling from the King, so well allayed their stormy furies, that calming their over-enraged wills, in the shame of their amiss; they humbly on bowed knees, craved pardon for their offences, and thanked the King for the grace and honour that he did them. Then sent the King his Ambassador to acquaint the English King, and specially Messengers to the Dauphin, and Duke; entreating the King, and willing both the other to honour him, and his Court, with their persons, his sister, and their two daughters at the assigned day, and that each of them would be pleased, to prepare, and bring some beseeming prize of value, befitting both themselves, the cause, and the worth of the Victor. All which they promised in the word of a Prince, holding themselves no little honoured in so honourable a contention. Before the day (the day drawing near) there came so many noble & well appointed Knights, that the French Kings 〈◊〉 seemed an Alexander's Campe. Great was their F●●●ti●g, and full Royal was all their entertainments. But th● d●y of trial being come. Aurora no sooner showed her ●●●●ings blush, but that the French King ashamed of 〈…〉, rose, and rid to see the three high Artificial Mounts, which he had caused to be erected, and made for the three Ladies to sit on; who no sooner were come and placed, but that the Duke of Bourbon came marching in with a rich Garland, made all of orient Pearl, hanging on a Blue Banner, with his coat of Arms on the other side, and placed it on the Mount belonging to Valentia, on her left aside.  
Then followed the Dauphin of Viennois with a rich Choler of Esses, beset all over with Rubies, hanging on a white Banner, with his arms displayed on the other side, and placed it on Viennas Mount, on the right hand of his Daughter. Then came England's royal King, with an imperial Crown of burnished gold, set with Indian Diamonds and blue Saphires, supported betwixt two regal Lions, hanging on a red Banner, and placed it on the middle mount before his Sister the Lady Margaret: In the face of each several Mount (some four degrees under the Ladies) sat each several Lady's Father, in a strange devised Seat, so curiously made, and so gloriously decked, that each one seemed to be Apollo sitting in the Chariot of the Sun. The Knights (whose rare Devises discovered their secret and several fancies) as they were affected; so they betook themselves to the Mount, whose honour they were to maintain. The French King sitting in his rich Pavilion powdered with Flower-deluces, opposite to the Mounts, caused Proclamation to be made on pain of death, that none but the Knight's Encounterers should stay, or enter into the Lists, and that no Knight unhorsed should Just again, nor any make offer of Combat: This being done, the King of Arms stood up, and after a third sound, bade them go too, and do their best devoyres like valiant Knights: And no sooner had he ended his words, but that there came from Valentia's Mount a Knight well mounted on a speedy Bay, his Armour, Bases, and all other his Furniture Azure, full of fiery flames, and on his shield he bore a Phoenix, enclosed within a bright shining Sun, and under it, a hand reaching towards it, with this underwritten Motto, O utinam: Towards him came from the Lady Margaret's Mount, a green Knight, full of eyes and bleeding Hearts, mounted on a fierce Black, bearing on his Shield an Armed Knight prostrated undera Ladies mercy, his Lance lying unbroken by him, with his Motto, Already conquered: These two Knights encountered each other so furiously and forceably, that their Staffs shivered in the air, and witnessed their courages in their fall, but in the counterbuff, the knight of the Phoenix was borne to the ground, so that the green Knight road on, overthrowing twenty other Knights that came from both the other Mounts; the last of whom, bare in his Shield the Picture of Vienna most richly pourtracted with a veil of lawn all over her, and from the dexter part of the Shield there was a Hand and an Arm coming forth of a Cloud; holding a fair Label, whereon was written, Such an one, as such is none. Great was now the glory of the Lady Margaret, and all malcontented sat the other two Ladies, especially Vienna, who now seeing her shadowed self lying in the dust, mist, and wished for her White and unknown Knight; And as her wand'ring eye rome up and down, still looking whether she could espy him, she suddenly both heard and saw a well proportioned Black Knight, rudely rushing from her Mount, who so fiercely saluted the Green Knight, that he made him pay tribute for his former honour, in the overthrow of his fortune: Threescore other assailing Knights he dismounted before Vienna, who now joying, wondered, and wondering, prayed that he might be her desired knight, that won her Crystal Shield and Chaplet at her Father's Court; and well she prayed, that had so well her prayer, for it was Sir Paris indeed, who knowing that Emulation hath many eyes, and that Observation might easily discover him, fearing to be known by his white Armour, had thus sadly armed himself suitable to his sable fortune; and therefore he bore nothing in his Shield but Blackness, for his Devise was still to be without Devise; only his sad Armour was covered all over with mourning Clouds. Many Knights there were overthrown by La-nova, but more than many did Sir Paris foil. For then, if ever; and if ever, then: did he show the virtue of his valour, in the strength of his courage. Now grew the hurly-burly great, and many, and great were the encounters made on each side, In so much, that there rested but unoverthrowne, one Valentia on the Lady Margaret's part, on either side three; and all only on Viennas, but one; which was the black clouded Knight, who now was deemed hardly bestead, both in regard of his former travails, and the present advantage of the six fresh assailants, who bent all their forces first against him. Valentia's hope was now a little revived, and the Lady Margaret's proud expectation fully answered Valentia's hope. Only doubtful Vienna, near died for fear, lest that her beauty should now be eclipsed in the loss of her got fame, and that her fame should be buried in the dying renown of her best esteemed beauty. For as she wondered he had so long resisted, so she held it impossible he should longer resist. But Sir Paris (only weary, in that there were no more to be wearied by him) casting his eye (the messenger of his heart) on Vienna, and seeing the shining lights of her transparent beauty, over-shadowed with sorrow and dismay. Desire so blue the fire of his new conceived rage, that like an unmerciful, and hungerstarved Lion, (that runs raging for his prey) so he violently run amongst them, that with one staff he overthrew the first three he met, and turning his House, before Vienna could turn her despair, he charged the fourth so forceably, that he sent both Horse and Man to the ground: At the sight whereof, the people gave such applauding shouts, that Vienna lifting up her sad eye (as waking from a careful slumber) she saw her Knight returning in the glory of their overthrows. So that hoping now for better hap, a better hap did befall her than she did, or could expect. For no sooner made he his last return, but he returned again from overturning of the other two. Who triumphed then but Vienna? Who now more sad than Valentia, or who more grieved then the Lady Margaret? the Just thus ended, the French Queen came with a troop of attending Ladies, carrying before her the Crown of Artificial Lilies, richly stoned, and setting it on Viennas head, she Crowned her for sole, and Sovereign Queen, of absolute, and matchless beauty.  
Then came the King, and took Sir Paris by the hand, and lead him (all the other Knights and Barons following them) with triumphing honour, and sound of Trumpets, to the three Mounts, where with his own hand he gave him the three Banners, with the three prizes on them, which Sir Paris reverently taking, re-delivered over to his friend La-nova, secretly to convey them away, while he stayed the ending of all other the ceremonies. All which being accomplished: The King, the Dauphin, and Vienna (rendering Sir Paris thanks for his worthy and affectionate endeavours, and most renowned and fortunate achievements) requested him, in the name of Vienna, to discover himself, and tell unto whom they were all so much bounden. But Sir Paris humbling himselefe in all duty, made reverend show of his unwillingness therein; which the King noting, would not further importune him, nor could the Dauphin in any wise over-treat him, nor durst Vienna overmuch press him: So that he kissing her hand, held it long and after drawing his sword, laid it at her feet, and taking it up again kissed it likewise; and then holding it up, seemed to threaten the world in her behalf, which added this Article to Viennas belief, that he undoubtedly was her white Knight, and the same, and non but the same, that first so melodiously sang under her Chamber window; and theeefore her desires having now no end, she ever after though each hour an age, till she knew him. But Sir Paris withdrawing himself to the rest of the Knights, retired with them, still giving back, till he was the last of the troop, and then taking a crossway, separated and conveyed himself from them, and suddenly disarming himself, he speedied to find out the Bishop of St. Laurence, with whom (of purpose to prevent all surmises) he had a little before familiarized himself, and no sooner had he espied him, but that he hasted to greet him, and still kept in his company, as if St. Mark had robbed god Mars of a Martialist. Such was his holy show of devout Religion, as that he made all men admire him, and his father to be inwardly grieved at him.  
But Vienna, who now had greater cause to love him, then means to know him, wondering at his valour, not to be valued; and valuing his virtues, by clouding the glory and value of his prowiss, held now his love an honour to her affection, and vowed her affection a guerdon for his love. But when she heard of his secret departure, and that no one knew what he was, from whence he came; nor to what place he had retired himself; Then impatient desire made her the child of passion, & fear to lose that she never had, made her feel what before, she neither knew, nor feared. And so much the more she held herself miserable, in that she knew not for whom she was so miserable, nor how to seek an end, to end her misery.  
As Viennas, sad conceit, thus overshaded the glory of her beautiful Conquest, so was Sir Jaques flattering hope made black with foul despair; For missing his son Sir Paris out of two so Royal & honourable Assemblies, where renown eternised each deserving Knight, with never dying fame; and seeing him still associating the Bishop; he feared lest his business of over superstitious Zeal, had abandoned all desire and regard of Knightly Chivalry. And therefore hot in his repining conceit, he hastened to find La-nova, unto whom in grief, he manifested the cause of his grief; Requesting and conjuring him by the sacred laws, and name of friendship, and by the honour he owed to Arms, to persuade his son to a more befiting respect of his unregarded honour. La-nova hearing Sir Jaques worthy complaint, and seeing his frosted beard all bedewed with the tears of his sorrow, pitied his lament, but durst not disclose the mystery of the truth; but commending his honourable care, he comforted him with promise of assured and present remedy, and so left him better satisfied, then truly certified. And no sooner were they parted, but La-nova departed, to impart to Sir Paris, what his noble Father had so sorrowfully said to him: which so moved his feeling consideration in a Son's regard, that partly to satisfy his Father from living so supposedly idle, and partly to forget (if so he could forget) the tormenting thoughts, that still troubled his enthralled mind.  
He determined to go (only with La-nova) to the wars of Florence. And craving, he obtained, willing leave of his glad Father; but before his departure, he called his Mother aside, and delivering her the key of his Chamber, and Oratory, wherein were placed all his purchased Prizes, well covered over with Hangings of sky-coloured silk, en broydered with stars of gold, and shaded all over with black Cyprus, that the dimmest eye might perceive the glory of the heavens, through the blackness of the cloud. Her he devoutly requested, and humbly conjured (as she tendered his contentment, and following welfare) not to suffer any to enter therein, nor so much as look therein herself. This was his request, and this did she protest religiously to perform: This done, he craved and received their blessing, and so set forwards towards Florence, where in brief, he achieved so great honour in the Duke's Wars, as the bruit of his spreading fame, both famed, and inworthied him in the Daulphins' Court, which much joyed the Dauphin, and more rejoiced Sir Jaques.  
Vienna all this while grew more pensive, and passionate then before, and still (as Pharaoh longed to know his dream) so desired she to know, and see him whom she loved more than herself. Her vestal virtue was now no Diana's proof, to withstand Venus' force; nor could her chaste conceit, dispense with affectious thoughts. But the more she sought to quench desire, the more she burned herself within her own fire. Many Princes became Petitioners and Prisoners to her beauty, and greatest Barons did homage to her virtues; But neither Prince nor Baron could find favour in Beauty, nor love in virtue. So strangely, was her strange affection, estranged to all but to him that was so mere a stranger to her so strange a passion. To him, and for him, had she consecrated, and reserved her devoted heart; and to him and none but him, would she yield the conquest of her Maiden's mind. And although disturbed reason afforded her no hope, nor possibility of finding or enjoying him; Yet did the gracious aspect of her favourable stars, yield her this means to know him. For Sir jaques being greatly visited with sickness, was so generally bewailed of all, and so particularly bemoaned of the Dauphin (in regard of his thrice noble service in the wars, and his wise directions in Counsel) that he sent the Daulphinis his Lady to visit him; who taking Vienna and Jzabella with her went attended with four other Ladies, to see, and comfort his enfeebled estate. But finding him prettily amended (after some fashionable, and cheerful chat:) The Daulphinis (led thereto, I know not by what destiny) was desirous to see how well the house was contrived, how beautified, and how furnished; which the good old Lady in all humbleness yielded unto, conducting them into every place, until they returning, came again by Sir Paris his Chamber door, which his Mother both going and coming back, purposely past by. But being demanded of the Daulphinis what Chamber, or Place that was; she durst not but tell, and telling, would have passed away, which the Daulphinis noting, merrily said; Nay Madam, I will not leave the Chamber of so worthy a Knight unseen. The good old Lady not knowing how to avoid this counterbuff, fearfully with a trembling hand, opened the door, wherein they were no sooner entered, but that they saw all manner of Armours, and befitting furnitures for approved good Knights, which made them commend the owner no little; and to hold him far worthier of a better Armoury. As thus they viewed his several Armours; Vienna happily fixed her eye on a white Armour not far unlike unto that, which Sir Paris had on him, when first he won her Chaplet, and Crystal Shield. Tha sight whereof, made Hope (the Harbinger of happiness) to breathe in her this pleasing comfort; that as that Armour was none but the same: So Sir Paris (that renowned owner) must of necessity be that secret Knight, that not daring to be known to love her, was (by her sacred vows) to be beloved of her. Thus Hope presumed the best, and invited joy to gratulate her good success. But doubt (curbing rashness with deliberation) persuaded her to further trial. For as her hope was ready to embrace the first show of comfort, so was her desire most greedy of more perfect assurance. And the better to effect, what she affected, she feigned (and fain she was to fain) herself suddenly sick, and after some show of some extremity, she desired her Mother (the better to make better search) to leave her alone, all only with Izabella, to rest her for a time on the bed, which they holding convenient, consented to it. And no sooner were they gone, but that Vienna bolting the door, began to make a wary search. At last, at the end of the Chamber she found a privy pertition, so well shadowed with the Hangings of the Chamber, that hardly could any perceive the same; within, and behind this, was the place wherein Sir Paris daily sacrificed his prayers unto his God, wherein they were no sooner entered, but that withdrawing a glorious clouding Curtain, they discovered the three famous rich Prizes of Sir Paris victorious prowiss, stately erected upon the wall, and below them hanged the Crystal Shield, and golden Chaplet, he first won at her Father's Court. Opposite to which, on the other side, stood his white and black clouded Armours, so fully, and lively set up, as they seemed as ready to defend the place, as their Master was willing to maintain her beauty. Long looked Vienna on every several Prize, but longer looked she on both the Armours; now blushing and sighing; then smiling and wondering at the stately and pleasing proportion of them. In this contentment, and admiration of her thoughts, she would have dwelled still, but that casting her nimble eye aside, to see what Izabella did, she perceived these following verses to lie written on the Table.  

Time Fortune, Love, and hot Desire, enjoins,  
Such Woe, Loss, Care, and Death, as Death procures:  
Time doubts, Love fears, Fortune hard hap assigns,  
Desire unrest; unrest Desire endures.  
So that Time, Fortune, Love, and hot Desire,  
My Woe, Loss, Care, and Death, doth now conspire.   

Time threatens Love; Love Life; Life Love attends,  
Love doubts Disdain; Disdain, Desire ne'er slays:  
Fortune my foe, my fancy still offends,  
Desire, Love covets; Love desire gainesayes.  
Thus Time, Love, Fortune, old Desires and new,  
My Woe, Loss, Care, and Death, doth oft renew.   

My Woe, Loss, Care, and Death, so oft renews,  
As Love (no Love) a Lover so doth leave;  
Fortune most fell, my love, thy Godhead rues,  
Desire dye, no hope of health conceive.  
Since Time, Love, Fortune, and distressed Desire,  
My Woe, Loss, Care, and Death, doth all conspire.   

But if that Time, in time, fell Fortune daunt,  
If Love, in love, but move my Love, to love:  
If Fortune smile, in Love's sweet yielding grant,  
And my desires enjoy, what Lovers prove.  
Then shall my Woe, Loss, Care, and Death retire.  
And I laud Time, Love, Fortune, and Desire.   
These Verses well pleased Vienna, and all contentment now waited on her first liking conceit: But after she had more consideratively weighed, how poor Sir Paris was that mean Man whom she wished so much to see, and to whom she had devoted the honour of her love; her blushing bashfulness than rebuked her misliked kindness, and his muddy clouded affection, eclipsed the sunshine of her far more glorious worth. In this dislike, she silent sat her down, and rising straight again, said; That promise is nefarious, that is to be accomplished by an ignoble deed; and it is more tolerable to violate an unworthy vow foolishly made; then by keeping the same, to draw on my disgrace, and give just cause of offence to others: My faith falls out a treason to myself, and the love I bear him, is the field wherein I seek to overthrow my renown: But why should my rash judgement set a rankling tooth in his virtuous side? Or why should I care for more honours then to content myself; Or for more riches, then to enjoy myself? we are all borne to love; and we only live, and love to be beloved: Then not to love, and think to be beloved, is like that foolish Virgin, that sought to light her Lamp at another's Torch that was quite extinct. With that she began to recount the shining Glory of his spreading renown, the full perfection of his many approved and admired virtues; the commendable regard of his secret and imprisoned love, with the dangerous and honourable approbation of the same; and how she was bound in honour to honour and love him, that had above the pride of all honour, so honoured her. Then, then began she to be more sorry she could love him no better, then before she was ashamed she loved him so well: And therefore taking Jzabella by the hand, she vowed and swore, that she would live to love none but Sir Paris, nor love to live longer than she might be beloved of her Paris; For Fortune said she hath decreed it so; Love will have it so, and Vienna swears it shall be so.  
Jzabella first uttering her mislike, in her complaining tears, and then drowning her tears in the grief of her complaint, thus all sighing, she sadly said: Ah Vienna, no more now Vienna, since Vienna hath lost herself; what is become of your Princely regard, befitting your state? where is your wont wisdom, so admired of all? Your virtue giving light to others, and your modesty eternising your beauty: Shall base conceit (ever attended on with repenting follies) eclipse now the honour and wonder of your Name? Are fervile thoughts beseeming companions for your noble mind? or ignoble subjects fit objects for Prince's eyes? If Vienna be so predominate over you, that Diana is quite forgotten of you; yet let me call you before the judgement of your own virtue, and then tell me whether the unworthy worthiness of his Degree, equalise the great greatness of your Dignity? Admit his deserts be many, and promise much, yet are his possibilities of advancement, no possessions of enrichment; nor are his noble deeds the deeds of a Noble man. Will you then lose an honour for an humour? Nay, rather perform a Regal office in a Princelike nature; that being a Princess in yourself, become also Princelike in your deeds. What will your Father say, nay all France, nay all the World? when they shall here that Vienna, late scorning the Royal love of greatest Princes, is now subjected to the will of a mean Knight: far be it from my Lady so to do, far from any to think so, and far from Izabella ever to see it so.  
Vienna, (whose settled affection) held her persuasive invertions odious, and whose resolved determination, thought her reprehension loathsome, with unusual eyes, arguing her discontent, she all angry, thus sharply replied; Were I (unkind, ungrateful, and unjust Jzabella) as far from affection, as thou art from reason and pity; Yet would not the common care that Ladies of esteem ought to have toward Knights of good regard, suffer me to hear due deserts so disgraced by injurious tongues, nor true renown so reproached by malignant mouths. Then know (and knowing grieve, that so thou knowest) that thy unseasonable words hath wounded my desire, and my desire abandons thee in thy words: Thinkest thou that desire dreams once on Dignities? or that Cupid cares for Crowns, that never saw Gold: Seest not thou these Trophies erected in his honour, and his honour shining in these Trophies? If I be great, his great deeds answers my great estate, and my estate shall be made greater by his great deeds: For if ever any Knight merited renown for renowned Chivalry, it is my Paris; or if ever Knight followed his Lady with true love, loved her with honour, or honoured her with regard and remarkable services, it is my Paris: Then if ever well-deserving Knight triumphed in the faithful love of his Lady, it shall be my Paris: For here I swear by the eternal justice of the Highest, that none shall have Vienna but Paris, nor none love Paris so well as Vienna, Then leave to grieve me, and load not my grief with further displeasure, in gainsaying what I say again, I will never gainsay: For in vain it is to water the plant, the root being perished, or to seek to persuade me, that am so resolvedly persuaded.  
Izabella seeing her so resolute in her passion, and so passionate in her resolution, thought it was in vain to urge her further; and fearing her threatening displeasure, she thought it good thus to balm the wound she before had given. Let not my honourable Lady (she said) return an imagined wrong, with an effectual injury, but pardon the well wishing fault of your faultless friend, who (if offending) offended in tender care of desiring your good, and not of purpose to contract you, or with will to discontent you, whom before all others I wish to content; for proof whereof, I here vow repay to the debt of my error, with the interest of all my furthering endeavours, to advantage you in your Love. No sooner had she spoken the last word Love, but that Vienna in love, for love, kissed, and embraced her, joying in her promise and availing aid; and protesting, that most grateful guerdons should make full satisfaction for her offered kindness. In the mean time, she required secrecy, and fearing lest their long stay might procure, either some fear, or suspicion, in her Mother, she thought good to depart as one well recovered of a sudden hatch; but before they went, she caused Izabella to take, and secretly to convey away: the Crystal Shield, and Chaplet; the first and rich records, both of her beauty, and his prowiss; and this she did of purpose, not so much for any desire she had to have them, as to give him occasion to come to inquire after them.  
In this process of time, the Wars of Florence, were ended, and Sir Paris being intelligenced of his Father's sickness (whose enfeebled age he much feared) and being desirous to see Vienna, though despair of success, the hearse of his supposed idle hopes; yet Desire (the nurse of perseverance) gave him wings to make the more speed; so that La-nova, and he, posting homewards, happily came, and found Sir Jaques well amended, whose good recovery was no less joyful to Sir Paris, than his return was comfortable to his Father. After they had long discoursed of the occurrants of these Wars, and of his many adventures and fortunes. Sir Paris, longing to give his eye contentment, by gazing on his Idolatrous Prizes, he took his Mother by the hand, and walking towards his Chamber (like the Lapwing that flieth far from her nest) he enquired of Court affairs, but she being not able to satisfy the drift of his reach, he pressed her no further; but being entered into his Chamber, he made a step into his Oratory, were suddenly missing the first pride of his happy achievements, the chief glory of his study, and the true testimony of Viennas beauty, and bounty; being therewith much appalled, and moved at their remove, he all angrily came forth, and asked who had been there, and there had taken away such things as he most esteemed. His Mother abashed at the question, but more grieved that there was any thing wanting, not knowing how, or by whom they should be taken away; answered, that since his departure no one had been there, but the Daulphinis, and her daughter the Lady Vienna, accompanied with other Ladies that came to visit his Father in his sickness, and that she desired amongst other Chambers to see that, which she (after some denying excuses) durst not longer gainsay, and how that she herself was with them so long as they stayed. Saving that the Lady Vienna being suddenly surprised with sickness, requested for her better ease, to stay only alone with Jzabella, to rest her a while on your bed. Paris flattering himself with his own favourable construction, deemed (and truly deemed) that the cause of her alteration, grew by the unexpected sight of the Prizes, and the view of his verses, that he had left on his Table; and that she had taken them away either in her angry disdain, or to see what account he made of them, or whether he would re-demand them. And therefore pleased, to adventure his fortune upon the rock of this hazard, he showed no further mislike that he missed them. But afterwards, shadowing his desire to see Vienna, under the borrowed veil of duty, to see, and to attend the Dauphin: he went to the Court, where the Dauphin, glorying in the lustre of his Subjects renown, because it gave a splendour to his Greatness; he kindly received him, with more familiar embracements, and loving respects, than his austere nature, did usually afford: by this his unwonted courtesy & grace, he made Sir Paris thoughts (more obligatory) to his favours; and fashioned his favours (more complementory) to Sir Paris fortunes. for courtesy, they say, in Majesty, binds ever affection in duty. As Sir Paris stood before the Dauphin (relating the honour, and issue of the Florentine Wars) he glanced, and fearfully glanced many times on Vienna, but checking his eyes, that still rebuked him; he left to look, on whom not daring to look, he could not but look. But Vienna, whose late kindled love, was now grown into a flame, having tediously before expected him, could not now seeing him, feast her ravished eyes at full, but gazing still on his ample perfections (for now he seemed more than exquisite) and taking pleasure in the sweet harmony of his well-tuned words; she no sooner rejoiced, joying in her own desires; but that strait she desired the enjoying. And turning towards Izabella, she all-blushing smiled, and smiling blushed again, because she smiled, and then asked her, whether she saw not bashful fear, and doubtful discontentment, sit on the face of his troubled countenance, for the loss of his Prizes, and the discovery of his affection; and whether she were not happy in her Choice, and more than happy in his love. All which, Gnathonizing Jzabella prodigally confirmed, and demanded, how she would do, to enfeoff him with her affection, that durst not be known of his own love. Which Vienna well ruminating in her mind, at length (woman-like) found out this device.  
She feigned herself, for some three days, very sick; and in the distemper of her wounding offences, fearful of her sins; but after when she was better enabled both in body, and mind; she desired leave of her Mother, to go the next day (for the more quieting and confirming of her conscience, and to give God praise for her recovery) to the Bishop of St. Laurence, to confess herself, and to receive the Sacrament within the sacred Temple of God; which her Mother liking, yielded unto, rejoicing no little to see her so well amended, and so devoutly and piously devoted. In the interim, Vienna caused Jzabella to send to Sir Paris in the Bishop's name, to come and speak with him in the Cathedral Church, at nine of the clock the next morning; which Sir Paris promising, performed accordingly. For at the appointed hour he came, and being come, saw (and wondered that so he saw) the Princess Vienna conferring with the Bishop, whose leisure, he willingly attended, and walked a little aside, wearying his fancy with wishes; and punishing his conceit with fearful imaginations. Long he had not walked, but that Vienna espying him, applauded her fortune; and armed with her own desires, she gave herself countenance, under the pretext of employment; and called to Sir Paris, telling the Bishop that she had matters of employment in foreign affairs, to impart unto him from her Mother; And therefore she requested the Bishop (if he had any occasion with him) to walk a while a fide, till she had performed her Mother's command, and then she would leave them both to their pleasures. The Bishop being glad to see the Princess so sanctified, commended her zeal, and left her to the discharge of her duty, blindly supposing that the Daulphinis would send Sir Paris in message to some of her foreign friends. But Vienna finding herself alone with him, in whom she joyed alone; she pleasantly demanded what he made there, or whether he had any suit to her, or to any other, wherein she might accommodate him; If it be so (so it be convenient) Sir Paris shall find a friend, if Sir Paris be found a friend. This pleasing and preludious demand, and Enigmatical conclusion, made Sir Paris, somewhat fearful how to answer. But Hope the comfortable counsellor of Love shaped in him this bold and short reply. My business (thrice worthy Lady) is the Bishop's will; my suit, your service; your service my chief desire, and my desire your favourable countenance; And longer may not Paris live, than he rests humbly thankful to Vienna; and if not offenssive, a faithful servant to my Lady. Thanks (said Vienna) good Sir Paris, your suit shall not be nonsuit, if you shoot at Honour's aim. But tell me, and truly tell me, whether your suit (and your discontentment, which I see harbours in your eyes) be not for your Prizes which I took away, when attending my Mother, I was at your Father's house: If so it be, (be it so, or not so) you shall have them again, if again you will return with me. Paris proud of her presence, held himself more deified, then dignified, by her favours, and humbling himself; he vowed, that they, himself, and all in all, were at her Honour's command. Then must I (Vienna said) command, and conjure you to tell me, whether it were yourself, that so sweetly sung under my Chamber window; and so friendly gave me Music; that did wound, and beat my Father's Guard; that won, and bare away my Crystal Shield, and Chaplet, in the Tournament at my Father's Court; and that carried away the Honour and the three Banners, with their Prizes, from all the Barons and Knights at Paris.  
Paris astonished at her demand, durst neither confess, for fear of disdain; nor yet dissemble, for offending her, whom in no wise he would offend; which perceived by Vienna, she familiarly pressed him to acknowledge the truth, which manifested; she with a pleasing and pleasant countenance merrily said, why then doth Sir Paris affectionately love us? Sir Paris whose enticing fault had erst controlled but now condemned, his over-clyming thoughts, was so amated in himself, and so transported from himself, that silence, in bashful signs, blushed out a dumb reply. But Vienna (balancing his cold conceit, by the alteration of his countenance) allowed the weight, and animated in her own affection, she commanded him boldly to aver, what she herself inferred, by such his troubled silence. Paris seeing the cloud of his care dispersed, gloried the more in the brightness of his Sun; the beams whereof he found so comfortable, that he proudly confessed his love, and that he had long done secret, and humble homage, to Venus under her so rare a beauty. Vienna surfeitting in the pride of her full content, kindly entertained his so affectionate a conceit, with as friendly a receit, and briefly, assuredly assured him; that none but Paris should enjoy Vienna; if none but Vienna should joy in Paris.  
This cordial conclusion, being Sealed with protestation of perseverance, and by confirmation of oaths; they knit two hearts in one, and parted one will in two, and so departed. During these Haltion days, commanding Love, wrought ensuing cares: For Vienna sitting but in the shadow of love, thought the fruits of affection overlong in ripening; and therefore presuming (in her erring aim) that her Father in her favour, would tie his consent to her choice, and her love to his liking; She importuned Sir Paris to request his Father to acquaint the Dauphin with her affection, and humbly pray his consent in favour of his Daughter: Which Sir Jaques advisedly at the first denied, as unwilling to waken a sleeping Lion, or to seek for Fish in a dry Poole. But Paternal love (the allination of reason) and flattering hope (the nurse of deceit) so transported himself, from himself, that most unlike himself, he (vainly dreaming after possibility) yielded to sail in a Ship without a Stern, and to gather honey out of Stones. But the Dauphin (whose repugnant humour scorned so servile a motion, and whose abused kindness, now begat in him most spiteful rage) so irefully boiled in his disdainful surquedry, that bitterly checking Sir jaques, he fearfully thundered out his threatening indignation, in exiling poor Sir Paris.  
Paris though checked, yet not mated; showed now the virtue of his courage in the eclipse of his fortune. For being persuaded by La-nova, to make presently away; He notwithstanding the danger of tyrannical authority, resolved to see his Lady before he lost his Country: And therefore as one desperate in despair, he hastily (yet secretly) went to participate his engrieved state with hapless Vienna; who hearing thereof, was so confounded in herself, as she was full of sorrow for being unable to relieve him, as she was void of all means to help herself. Their lamentations paid now large tribute to their griefs; and their desires that before had no end, did now, by despair, end endless things in their first motion: But after that the flood of their tears was grown to an ebb, (admitting the necessity of time) they concluded, ever to live to none, but to each other; though they never saw again one an other. And so Sir Paris fainting in his farewell, was deprived of his welfare: Which (all loving and impatient) Vienna not brooking, so to be deposed from him, in whom she wholly reposed herself, recalled him again, and enfolding him within her fainting arms, she vowed to partake with him in all his fortunes; ever remembering him, that the chaste root of her true affection was Virtue, clad in constant love's desire: She therefore advised him secretly to conceal himself, and to provide for shipping, and at the hour of twelve, the third night following, she would disguised (with stored Gold and jewels) meet him in the porch of Saint Anthony's Church, and so depart with him whithersoever: Sir Paris kissing her oft, (for in vain kissing is some pleasure) found now his purgatory, to be his paradise; joy triumphed in his eyes, and comfort lodged in his heart; and in this haven of happiness he would have swimmed still, but that danger of delay told him, that growing Trees have their falls, aswell as their springs, and that apprehension would dissolve all their harmony: He therefore (being borne away with the hasty tide of smallest leisure) road presently into Provence, where happily meeting with Monsieur de la Mott, a Ship Master of his acquaintance, he privately told him, that he had slain a Man of account, and that he must for a time leave his Country, and therefore prayed him (for his gold) speedily and secretly to Ship him and his two Friends away into some other Coast; which Monsieur la Mott promising, sent one away incontinent to Saint Victor, where his ship lay, to make all things in readiness and returned himself with Sir Paris, to assist and direct him in all his needful dispatches.  
Now Vienna and Jzabella, at the time and place appointed met with Sir Paris (according to their agreement) in men's apparel, dispencing with needless salutations, addressed themselves to speedy journeys: And so long they posting, rid out of all Highways, that being benighted, they were glad to crave harbour of a Prelate, who lodging them, placed Vienna and Jzabella in one Chamber, and Sir Paris and Monsieur de la Mott in another. In the morning, their early desires so hastened their speedy departures, that being timely up, and quickly horsed, Sir Paris and La Mott, road apace before, to view the River, whose overflowed banks were so over run, by the pride of a late swelling flood, that the Foard was not pastable: which made Sir Paris so impatient, so to be frustrated of his attending Ship (the assurance of his safety) that Monsieur de la Mott over venturous to venture over the passage, was in searching the Foard, most unfortunately drowned in the merciless Flood. Sir Paris daunted at that so fatal a sight, sighed, and sighing, grew to a prodigious prognosticator of his own ensuing harms. But fearing least the knowledge thereof might appall his fair Friend, he suddenly returned to their religious Host, where he had left the two Ladies, when he went to find the Foard, and to try the passage; and shadowing now his tormenting grief with a forced smile, he demanded of Vienna, how she fared, who answered, as my Love fares, so fares thy Love; happy in myself, because happy in thee. And long may (said Paris) my Love live to love, that loves to live only for my love. Scarce had Sir Paris pronounced his last word, when one came running to tell the Priest, that there were many Knights in the next Town; that came in quest, and searched for Vienna and Sir Paris: Which Vienna understanding, was so surprised with grief and fear, that being altogether disheartened in her hope, she held herself more then undone in her disturbed expectation: But after she had bathed the beauty of her eyes, in the sorrow of her tears, fearing most in this present peril, lest death should arrest her beloved Friend: She with a much more resolved mind, and an assured countenance, than befitted either the time, or was incident to her sex, thus exhillerated her astonished Friend.  
My Paris, (she said) Time admits not there many words, where danger still knocks at the door: In extremities, the winning of time, is the purchase both of life and love: Let not violent passions (that never remooves any ill, but betrays our secret imperfections) now sway the virtue of thy thoughts, nor the fortitude of thy heart; but carry thou in thy Lion's look, a Lion's mind; and like the Sun show thy fairest face, in thy lowest fall. Load not my sorrows with thy grief, nor kill thou thyself, for fear of death; But in the wont courage of thy never-daunted Spirit, get thee to some other more safer shore; where let Virtue be thy Governor; my remembrance thy Love; thy love my comfort, and my comfort thy sole contentment. Thou hast conquered men in love, and Love in me, and both in worth and wisdom; and never shall I deem myself happy, but when I shall see thee happy, for whom I now am so unhappy: As thou leavest me, so shalt thou find me; be but thou as constant a Friend to my Mind, as thou shalt be a true Possessor of my Heart; and I shall have as much cause of joy, as thou no cause of doubt. If thou continue loyal, success (thou shalt see) will bless thee well, and all good fortune will wait on thy just merits. This Diamond which here I give thee, shall be a true remaining record of my sincere love to thee: Only, let me hear of thy abode; and so I leave thee to the guide of Virtue, and service of Fortune. Sir Paris thus discomforted, comforted; weighing the danger of delay, by his immient peril, and forced to set up his sails in this so insupportable & threating a tempest; and there sealing up the vow of his faith, in the silent grief of a departing kiss, he posted to the River side again; where Despair made Fear so valiant, that ere he found cause of fear, he was past all fear: For having past he knew not how the River, he was got before he wist into the Ship: wherein being Cabined, he told of La Mot his fatal accident, and forced them to put to sea, sailing himself with as many contrary thoughts, as Aeolus sent out winds upon the Trojan Fleet. At length he arrived at Genua, where he rested his restless self, and where he lived, wanting but little, because not desiring much. But such was his disconsolate solitary life, that the Citizens (though strangers) affecting the man in his manners, pitied much his distress, in the show of his discontentment. In the mean while, the Dauphin wasting himself, in his own implacable, and unlimited wrath, violently, and suddenly seized, and consiscated, all Sir Jaques Lands and Goods into his hands; imprisoning both him, and his Lady, as Fauters, Abetters, Confederates, and Adjuters thereunto. Thus ets Outrage, ever the sharpest edge upon the first advantage; And in this distemper of his ill disposed mind, he commanded that naught but bread and water should be given them. For, said he, where the offence is greater than the service, there justice changeth the bond of recompense into due punishment. During this their faultless imprisonment, the questing Knights returned with Vienna, and the Hospitalious Parson, her Host; who being brought before the angry Dauphin (her enraged Father) she saw the cloud a far off, before the storm fell, and therefore prostrating herself at his Feet, she required pardon for her offence, and prayed that he would not make her sin deadly, which was but venial; pleading ignorance for the Prelate, and unresistable love for herself; swearing and assuring him, by sacrament of solemn oath, and the testimony of her Host, that she was as honest in her flight, as she was in her birth, and that her vn potted thoughts were never stained, with any unchaste deed or desire. The noble followers of the obdurate Dauphin, seeing the Princess washing her repentance in her own tears, humbly besought him to forget, and to forgive her amiss, since the frailty of her offence, was rather a sore, than a sin; and wounds were to be healed and not hurt. This submission, strengthened by such general entreaties, somewhat quenched the burning heat of his inflamed ire: And though his severe justice told him, that not to punish an evil, was to allow of an evil; yet mercy he knew pardons them oft, that deserves it not, and judgement in nature, should be next a kin to favour. Upon this calm construction (after many sharp rebukes, and protested threats, he vowed that determinate, and inevitable condemnation 〈◊〉 punish her next offence) and so he pardoned her upon promise of more regardful duty.  
Now Sir Paris had not long sojourned in Genua, but that mindful of his charge, he writ to Vienna, and enclosed it in another writ to La-nova, wherein he excused his unkind departure without his privity, and conjured him by the sacred laws of true amity; to attend and follow his Lady, in all service and fast friendship. La-nova glad of such glad tidings, went in the height of his joy to Vienna, and (after some complemental salutes) asked her, what she would give to hear of her Paris. Vienna great with child with the expectation of her friend's welfare, longed to be delivered with the notice of his health; and said, that the whole world afforded not sufficient worth to answer her liberal heart therein. La-nova joying in the constancy of her love, showed her the letter, which she hastily snatching, as hastily read, re-read, and many times, more than many times overread, the pleasing contents as followeth.  
SWeet (sweet Vienna) I see is the hope that springeth in the bud, but most sorrow full I find is the hap that decayeth in the blossom. The hoped harvest that over-credulous love assured me. Time (injurious time) keeps now (you know) from the scythe, what Fortune before sought to destroy in the grass. What resteth then? but to curse Time; as enemy to our desires, and to bewail our desires as intercepted by Time. Yet should I live many years, or had I as many lives, as Nestor had years; Those lives, those years, and all, in all; should (I protest) be only spent in recording your worthiness, and in arming my whole endeavours, to do you some agreeable service. Only in absence, my grief grows, in finding my present estate, so weak in Fortune, and my deserts so slender in Nature; that not knowing with Anthony how to requite his Cleopatra, I only rest with Anthony to dye for my Cleopatra. I cannot use many words, where every word wounds me with a new careful conceit, and every conceit kills me with a fearful doubt. Let it then only suffice, that as I live to love none but Vienna; so I wish, and wishing desire, to be ever, and only remembered of Vienna. I am now in Genua, where my stay shall be little. For my desire flattering me, with hope of honour, calls me (being debarred from attending you) to foreign services. I am therefore earnestly to entreat your favourable consent therein, and that you would but grace my disgraced fortune with your colours, that under protection thereof, I may for my better security march, as shadowed under Achilles' shield. In lieu whereof, I vow that all my happiest endeavours, and achievements, shall be done under the honour and favour of your name. This is all, and of this would you but deign me the comfort of your answer; I should think me unhappy, happy; and live to hope, to be more happy. Thus wishing my deserts still suitable to my desires; and my desires ever pleasing to your deserts; I rest, ever, for ever, your true and loyal servant.  
Paris.  
Vienna well certified, but not fully satisfied, commanded La-nova to return a speedy answer, with chaage that Paris should not depart Genua, but that he should there sojourn, till better times afforded better turns: And that he should bear himself, as himself, and her favourite. To maintain which, she delivered to La-nova ten thousand Crowns, which he sent immediately: Sir Paris receiving now so pleasing a pledge of her persevered constancy, triumphed no little in her so agreeable affection. And as she required, so sat he up the main sail of his obscured glory in the wind of her will, by taking a great house, and by maintaining so great a Port, that his majestical magnanimity well manifested, that his former sinister fortune was nothing suitable to his birth and education.  
Whiles Sir Paris thus Courted it out in some content, Vienna was solicited by many great Lords. But the seed which they sowed in the sands, was washed away with the first flood of the Tide; so that all their hoped Haruists, was nought but crops of growing cares. The Dauphin (whose climbing thoughts looked ever upon greatest stars) kept the beam of his balance strait, without gainsaying this Suitor, or disgracing that. But to prevent all distaste that might come by denial, he speedily sent special Messengers to his fast friend, the Earl of Flanders, requesting his best labours and endeavours, to move, and make (if so he might a marriage, betwixt his daughter Vienna, and the Duke of Bourbon his son. Such was his covetous desire, in lieu of the Bourbon's possessions, not to be valued; and such his conceit of his son's valour, not then (as he thought) to be equalled; so as his pride, could, nor would, admit of any other son in law, but this great and matchless Prince. The Earl of Flanders glad that occasion offered itself, that he might both gratify the Dauphin his friend, and interest himself in the love & greatness of the Bourbon Duke, which he had love desired; was now as willing as the Physician, that is ever ready to pleasure another, to profit himself. And knowing, that he that sleepeth, catcheth no Fish; he went instantly to the Duke, who no sooner herd of the motion, but glorying in the hope of such unexpected advancement, he entertained the Earl with all the state, that either greatness could perform, or desire require. In conclusion, the Bourbon Duke sent his son, in the greatest pride of proudest state, to the Daulphins' Court, where he did proportion his carriage answerable to the eminency of his place; his merits being such, and so many, that (setting only aside his pride of heart) Envy herself, could not detract from his worth. But before he came to the City, the Dauphin hearing of his near approach, went to his daughter, and told her what tender care he had of her good, how he had laboured to make the Bourbon Prince, her glorious Groom. and how happy she might think herself, to be bestowed on so great and famous a Lord. One, whom the world admires for his heroical fortitude; fears for his greatness; and loves for his deserts. A Prince incomparable by title and birth: A person beautified by Nature; And a man enriched with wisdom, wealth, and worthiness. Then let my Choice be thy content, and in thy full consent see that thou entertain him with all virtuous favours. This said, he commanded to horse, not staying her answer, and so rid forth royally attended, and appointed, to receive the young Prince. And far he had not rid, but that he met, and encountered with his long desired, and now expected guest. The young Prince first alighting from his Horse, gave the Dauphin occasion to dismount himself, who being on foot, stayed till the Prince came unto him; where they greeted, regreeted, and embraced each other, and then remounting themselves, they rid Marshaled in right good equipage to the Palace, where all the Ladies (saving Vienna) gave a second salute, to the greater content of the Bourbon Prince. But the Dauphin missing Vienna, misliked much her absence, yet seemed to take no notice of it, but smoothing the angry furrows of his discontentment, he (with an enforced cheerfulness) brought the Prince to his lodging, and there leaving him to his private repose; he hastily went to Viennas Chamber, where all sad, and solitary, he found her sitting in the seat of sorrow, or rather in the shade of death, for fear of her fathers provoked ire; whose violent, and peremptory disposition, would (she knew) transport him beyond all the bounds of Nature's tenderness. Of her, he demanded, why contrary to his command, she had absented herself in the requisite entertainment of so great a Lord, and so worthy a friend.  
Vienna rising from her sorrowful seat, but not from her sorrow, with fearful erected hands, and pity pleading eyes, humbled herself at his feet, and told him, that for shame of her first flying fault, she had vowed her chastity to Diana; and sworn herself, a Vestal, to Vesta. And therefore had she so separated herself a side, because she would not give fire to his fancy, nor wrong his better deserts with forlorn desires. In consideration whereof, she humbly prayed, that none but herself might enjoy herself, since none but herself could, or should content herself. The Dauphin perceiving light through a small crevice, began in mild policy, by gentle entreaties, and rich persuasions, to wean her from her will; telling her, that unlawful vows were to be violated; since the first cause ceasing and a new succeeding, both might be altered; neither had she any such power in herself, that was not to be disposed of by a Father; And to honour, and obey Parents, is the first Commandment that hath any reward promised on earth. Besides, it is an envious wrong to Nature, to suffer her fairest work (like a sweet fragrant odoriferous Rose) to dye upon the stock; that being plucked in the bloom, might yield both pleasure, and profit to others: therefore renounce this belief, if thou meanest to be saved, or to have any favour. For by course of kind all things were made to increase; and by increase to benefit another; and she is a Devil amongst men, that profiteth no man. This did the Dauphin think by his smooth words, to build a Castle in the air, that had no hope of foundation on the earth. For Viennas unremovable resolution, being bend to shoot at her first mark, could not be won to level at another aim; which made the Dauphin, (failing (like a Fox) to deceive with kindness) to play now the Lion by compulsion; And therefore gnashing his teeth together for anger (like the Sea that waxeth mad, when the winds do rage) he commanded both her and Jzabella to close prison.  
The young Prince marveling beyond all measure, that he could not see amiable Vienna, the eye of France, the miracle of her sex, the wonder of time, and the pride of Nature; demanded of her Father, what ominous cloud shadowed the brightness of France his second Sun, that she appeared not in her all-admired glory. The Dauphin fearing lest he should distaste the Prince, by understanding the matter; framed, and feigned this excuse. That sickness had attached her, and made her a prisoner to her bed, and therefore prayed his patience awhile, till be hoped recovery might better please his fancy. The young Prince holding his words for Oracles, held himself contented, and thought to wear and weary out the weariness of time, with otehr Courtly, and more Knightly sports; wherein he was so fortunate, that Fame was the Heravid of his Heroical deeds. This did so inflame the love of the Dauphin towards him, that no eye-water could ever after quench the same; Desert did now double his desire; and his desire had no end, in gaining his daughter's consent, which he again now vainly laboured: Sometimes laying before her the Riches, Glory, and Dignities of juno: sometimes painting forth the Honour, Respect, and Happiness, she should receive by such another Hector; and then pleading the sweet content, that grows by enjoying so pleasing and complete a Prince. But when he found his wasted words dye in their own sound, and all his hopes utterly shipwrecked: his better consideration was then forfeited further to hate, and rancour; then either nature, or pity, could redeem it. Then began he to thunder out fearful threats, cruel chastments, and most insupportable miseries. Commanding the Keeper (in his over-awfull justice) that sad solitariness should only attend her imprisonment, and that eager hunger should daily wait on her Table, and so he departed, hopeless of reclaiming her, and therefore resolved to chasten her obstinacy, with all severity. But  
No force, can Fancy force; nor crosses Love expel,  
For Rivers stopped, above their banks, will higher swell.  
The young Prince having now spent many days, and not seen her, whom only he came to visit; importuned the Dauphin, that he might but visit her both to comfort her in her malady, and somewhat to satisfy his starved eyes, in their more than greedy desires. But the doubling Dauphin pleaded her mislike so to be seen; assuring him, that she daily requested, that he (whom she only upon sole report entirely affected (should not in any case see her so sore impaired. So great (said be) is her care to seem pleasing unto you, such her shamefastness at first so to be seen of you. And therefore let me entreat your further patience, for ●our willing return, until her better health, may better countervail your taken pains; which once recovered, you shall be speedily informed. In the mean time salute in my name, your thrice noble royal Father, and tell him, that I hold myself so much honoured, in his desired affinity, that myself, and what is the Daulphins, rests wholly at his pleasure: and further, pray him that the lawful cause of this unwilling stay, may stand for satisfaction till better payment. The young Prince thus smoothed up with words of fairest die, held himself well appeased, though not throughly pleased; and holding the Daulphins' words for written verity, he implored the firm continuance of his found favours, and protested kindnesses; and so commending himself to the good grace of his adored Lady; he humbly and friendly took his leave, and returned to Bourbon. The Prince departed: The Dauphin, who had no more remorse than the cruel judge hath mercy; gave in charge, that no one should visit, or repair to his Daughter, but only Monsieur Maux, a right Saturnist by nature, and an unrelenting Tyrant in life, him he commanded (under pain of death) to give her nothing but bread, and the worst wine, twice a day; which this enemy of virtue, and stain of all mankind, so barbarously performed, that his cruel usage too soon impaired poor Vienna, and distressed Izabella who had unkindly, and untimely pined, and perished in that loathsome solitary prison, had not La-nova found out a means (as hereafter shall be shown) to succour, and relieve them.  
But now the Daulphinis, who had many times washed her aged face, in the tears of her consuming grief for her afflicted Child, having neither knowledge of any means to relieve her, nor hope of her delivery; knowing the Dauphin, to be as resolute in his rigour, as he was absolute in opinion: Advised with her nearest friends, and obliged dependants, what was to be done in so desperate and grievous a case. Whereby the concurrence of advices, it was concluded, that she should send unto the Delphian Oracle, there to learn, what should be done, and become of her enthralled daughter. This Counsel being embraced, and the journey undertaken, the winds gave speed, and the Messenger arrived at Delphos, where after all ceremonies were religiously performed, hereceived a scroll to carry unto the Daulphinis, with charge not to look therein. The Daulphinis, whose fear made her think all good to be too good for her; thought yet each hour an age, till his return: misfortune so blindeth those, we will overthrow, as that she gives their desires wings to draw on, and hasten their own decays. At last he came, and humbly delivered the scroll, importing this much.  
Viennois heir, to thraldom still belongs,  
until her Father's bonds, shall set her free:  
Who captived is; in place, confused with tongues,  
by Ismaels' brood, detained shall be.  
Both shall live, in doubt, in care, and we,  
until the banished Son, of forlorn Troy;  
Shall succour give, unto his greatest foe,  
and bring him home, with hope, with love, with joy.  
Then shall Vienna wed a sable Moor,  
And happy live in peace; and not before.  
The Daulphinis, whose over sad surcharged heart was unable to digest such heavy and bitter Cates; found this sauce too sharp for her diet. For it was no sooner read, but that finding (as she thought) all the gates of comfort shut up with intricate threats and impossibilities, (being too weak a vessel, to bear so sharp a liquor) she shrunk under the weight of her sad burden, and fell suddenly dead; and so left the Dauphin a cruel Father, and a careless Widower.  
This mournful accident rather exasperated his ireful displeasure towards his daughter (in making her disobedience the original cause of her death) then in any wise extenuated his execrable resolution, against her determined endurance. But he had not lived many days in dolour, but that burying the remembrance of his dearest spouse, in the hope of future happiness; his obdurate heart became as unsenceable of her loss, as of his Daughter's misery. Love found love, and the madness of age made him such a slave unto his slave, that before one years' period, he married one of his Wives meanest Attendants; One (who knowing her own unworthiness,) having neither Virtue to strengthen her fortune, nor good nature to incite her to pity or goodness, nor any merit to win applause, was notwithstanding so potent over him, that she guided the stern of his flinty and unpennitrable heart: And though she feared the scorn of abject baseness, yet to maintain the stolen pride of her enhansed heart, she cunningly gave fuel to her Husband's enraged will, and covertly blew still the coals of his displeasure. For fear she did, lest that her Daughter's liberty should (in the aspect of true honour) cloud both her swelling conceited glory, and detract from her proud insulting greatness: To frustrate which, she cautely one day, leaning on his breast, and stroking his frosted beard, thus sadly said.  
When (my dearest Lord) I look upon the breach of the Princess, your Daughter's obligation; I find the penalty you take, to be most just (though severe;) Since the just judger of all, did for the sole disobedience of only one, cast both him, and all his Posterity out of Paradise: How like unto him you show yourself herein, your unpartial justice well demonstrates, who rightfully punisheth the sin of disobedience in your own members, as God did in his own creatures. justice is the badge of virtue, the state of peace, and maintenance of honour; and the will of a Father should be a religious law unto the Child: And they that prefer their own justes before their Parents pleasures, looseth the benefit both of nature's right, and a Father's regard: For reason would not we should respect those that forsake us: The Husbandman cuts and loppes off all unkindly Branches from the good Vine; Jove held his Children part of his substance, of whom he did and might dispose; and the noble Romans deprived their Sons of life, that infringed but their commands. I allege not this (most worthy Lord) to aggravate your Daughters foul offence, whose other deserts I honour, whose welfare I affect, and whose merited punishment I condole; Nor yet to detract from the worth of your thrice worthy chastisement, which all men commend, and justice allows. But fear (of I know what) and the love of your safety enforceth me in love and duty, to manifest what I fear, and to prevent what I doubt. Vienna (you know) my endeared Lady, is the immediate apparent Heir to this Principality, and the unjust desires that wait upon a Crown, begets oft most inhuman, unnatural, and unlawful Acts: Nature in that expectation, looseth her sight. Virtue her strength, Duty her obedience, and Love her respect: Nothing can outballance ambitious desire, either in the reach of dignity, or revenge; Nor is there any limitation in the adventurers. Her restraint is (I fear) like fire raked up in embers, that covertly will kindle, and openly burst forth into a flame; For the harder she deems herself handled, the more will she seek after her release, if not after revenge; Nor can she want instigators thereunto: Since all men like and prefer the rising of the Moon before the setting of the Sun: And to win advancement in that hope, they will contrive, practice, and execute whatsoever, and howsoever: Such occasions gives fire to corrupt Humorists; and such grounds sets repugnant Malcontents a work. I would my death might free you from such dangerous intendments, or that my life could acquit you from such heavy accidents. And therewithal (her heart having taught her eyes to weep) she threw herself into his bosom, the more to endear herself unto him, and without any sorrow, she sighing, said, Ah what shall become of me, when I shall lose my loving Lord?  
Craft gave her tears, Deceit showed grief.  
Fraud a forced á fear to win belief.  
Thus to nourish debate, after she had fed on slander, and instilled in his ears a fearful jealousy, which over-credulous minds easily apprehends, and covetously entertains. The better to acquit herself from all suppose of malice or detraction: She weeping, told him, That the night before, her Mother's Ghost appeared unto her, all in white, her unsmoothed hair displayed about her shoulders, her rueful fallen face pale, her eyes hollow, and in either hand a Taper burning dim; which so affrighted her, that had she not comfortably spoken to me, when I had no power to call to you; I had awaked you, and cried for help: But suddenly, with a feeble voice, she mildly said; Fear not my Daughter, to look upon thy Mother's harmless Ghost, who in tender care of thee, and thy espoused Lord, have left my bed of rest, to come to premonish thee of your ensuing ill. Treason doth threaten the Dauphin; Subjects mislikes, works upon Viennas discontentments: Her liberty will be his death, and in his destruction shalt thou find thy grave: Now thou knowest it, look to it, and so farewell. With that she gave a wimpe, darkness possessed the place, and I lay wounded and affrighted with remembrance, both of her sight and of her words. This Apparition, the happy Angel of our God, (for visions are clear revelations, where dreams are but delusions) hath moved me, out of an affectionate fear of you, to deliver what I saw, heard, and have said; which otherwise in my love to your Princely Daughter, I would willingly have concealed. And therewithal she wept again, and kissing him said, O hardest of haps, but most unhappy only I, that she, to whom I owe all love, and from whom I cannot withdraw my devoted affections should by my means be the more afflicted. But in my Lords love and welfare, do I only live, and will bury all other affects and considerations. The guilled Dauphin, whose undigested displeasure, and over-iealous prejudicating heart, gave way to every suspicious thought, so procreated ●y false conceit, and so confirmed by her mellefluous and deceitful tongue; began now to conceive much more, than he did see or perceive. Fear and dislike so shipwrecked his judgement upon his Wives clouded rocks, that what before seemed to him by conjecture but probable; that he holds now as an Oracle. And therefore embracing her, he kissed her oft, and oft did wipe her forced bedewed eyes, and then did kiss again, and thanked her for her provident care; and preserving love; assuring her that thus warned, he would be ever armed, and that in his daughter's wedded miseries, they would build up both their securities. And thereupon commanded that a strict Watch should ever guard the prison door, that no one (but Monsieur Maux) should come, or send unto her.  
Thus Beasts corrupt, do lightly poison take:  
Thus envy weeps, that tears may mischief make.  
But La-nova understanding of the Daulphins' Decree, and finding the venomous drift, and empoisoned mind, of this Serpentine mother; having Land adjoining to the Castle, did erect (after a great, and strict show of holiness) a Chapel in honour of our Lady, wherein he made a close partition; In the one part to hear public Mass, and in the other (which adjoined to his Castle) to prostrate himself before his God, and to pour forth his more private prayers for his secret sins. In this part, he digged in the night so long, and many nights so long; that at length he made a secret way, that ascended up to the place of their abode, and pausing there a while, to rest his overwearied self, he heard Vienna and Izabella, carefully, and interchangeably, sing this contention's Ditty.  Vienna. 
Who lives to love, doth live to care,  
Who careth much, much grief shall find:  
Who findeth grief, tormented are,  
In endless woe, of woeful mind,  
Why then should love poffesse our hearts,  
That yields nought else, but secret smarts?  Izabella. 
Who loves to live, should live to love,  
Who loveth much, much joy shall find:  
Who findeth joy, such joys shall prove,  
As proves no joy, to Lover's mind.  
Why should we then, sweet Love dispraise,  
By whom our minds, such joys assays?  Vienna. 
The heart oppressed, in fancy dies,  
Affection sails, in Times arrest:  
joves' royal bird, preys not on Flies,  
Love's greatest joy, is hopes behest.  
Why love we then? Why joy we so?  
Since hope is vain; and Love breeds woe.  Izabella. 
The Palm suppressed, doth higher grow,  
The lowest sail, Time sets aloft:  
The highest Sun, doth shine below,  
And poorest hope, finds hap full oft.  
Then live, and love: then hope and have;  
Heavens made love: Love heavens gave.  Vienna. 
But Towns besieged, distressed yields;  Izabella. 
But forts maintained, great glory gains:  Vienna. 
Onforlorne Hope, Love never builds:  Izabella. 
In Fortune's change; Hope, hap obtains.  Vienna. 
Then will I love. Izabel. Then constant prove.  Vienna. 
Sweet Paris live. Izabel. Viennas love.  
No sooner had they made an end of their Song, but La-nova, found an end of his work, and going forth of his dark passage, he softly, yet cheerfully entered, and saluted Vienna, who though amazed, yet animated at his sight, run, and fell upon his breast, and in the fall of her many tears, asked him, What news of her Paris, and whether he lived, and living, lived to his first Enone; or struggling, had found, and made a second choice. Say, La-nova, say, hath any Helen won my Trojan from his betrothed Nymph, or hath Adenis forgotten his Venus, and become amorous of another Lady. If so, say so, and tell me, how thou cam'st hither. For I wonder at thy presence, and fear thy hazard. Your Knight (most constantly (virtuous, and renowned Lady) said La-nova) lives I hope, and no doubt wholly yours: But never since the receit of this Letter, heard I any tidings of him. Only my care of your good (the sum of Sir Paris charge) hath plotted, and effected, this poor shift, to relieve and comfort your grace. And so he told her how, and showed her the way, the top whereof he advised her to cover well, lest it should be descried, he undone and she unsuccoured. Vienna re-embracing him for his kind and tender regard to her, and for his true, and fast love to them both; gave him many thanks, and earnestly entreated him, to make privy enquiry of the Genua Merchants, whether they knew, or had heard of Sir Paris, and how he spent his days, and so fearing the detested Keepers coming. La-nova left her, to make provision for her.  
Now the Dauphin, whose diseased mind could not be cured, but by the match of the Bourbon Prince; thought himself still endangered, so long as she lived unmarried, and imprisoned: His wicked wily wife, had cast such an erroneous mist over his bewitched eyes, and so drowned his heart in fearful doubts, that he durst not trust his own safety; unless his harmless daughter were either made away at home, or married away far from home. To give peace unto these his disturbed thoughts, he went unto the Castle to see whether that weakening diet, and tedious thraldom, had well reduced her seduced mind; and made her of a disobedient child, the daughter of his will. In trial whereof, he demanded, whether in the high, and sacred pre-eminence of a Father, he should find yet the obliged duty of a child; the which if she would in repentance acknowledge, and in performance willingly accomplish his will. She should be restored to her former estate, his wont favour, and her preeminent dignities. Vienna on humble knees, falling at his feet, required his blessing, and said, that continued sorrows had so mortified all thoughts of affection, that only grief was grown to be pleasing to miserable creatures; and that custom had made her content to lie in her bed of woe, and to water her couch with tears: only she prayed, that the just God might appease his ire against unjust men. But how (said she) shall myself, persuade myself, that you mean me any good, that not only have so hardly entreated me, and so unnaturally imprisoned your sole child; but most unjustly and cruelly have put in prison poor Sir jaques, that hath spent all his happiest days in your unrewarded service. It is the true property of a Prince, to resemble Cod, in virtue, bounty, and mercy: and not the Lion in force, rigour, and cruelty. Mercy pardoneth those that deserve it not; and the interpretation of the strictest law, should rather tend to mercy, than cruelty; since rigorous laws were first made, more to terrify all, then to torment any. The doubtful Dauphin finding his amiss, but not his remedy; somewhat to persuade his daughter of his repenting rigour, and intended good; commanded that Sir Jaques should be set at liberty and restored to his Pristen estate; which greatly contented Vienna for her Paris sake, and no little joyed good La-nova, that secretly had succoured him. But these shows of favour, and promises of preferment, nothing advantaged the Dauphin: For Vienna (strengthened in the expectation of sorrow) not obstinately, but constantly told her father, that the Barbons' love, was like a Spider's web, fit to be swept away; and that her Virgin's vow, should eternize her chastity after death. This resolve, raised again the storm of his allayed fury; in the rage whereof, he left her, discovering by his threats and malicious words, the ill of his heart, as Viennas sorrowful sighs showed the hurt of her heart.  
La-nova wigehing the Tyranny of the time, & finding no hope of better hap, presently writ to Sir Paris the truth of all such accidents as had befallen, his Father, Vienna, and himself; since the receipt of his Letter, which gave so fresh and so sharp an assault, to his already over-surcharged heart, that virtue was no Armour of proof against such affliction, but raging in the tempest of discontentment, rather like an unkennelled Cerberus, than any distracted Ajax, he blasphemously belched and breathed out cruel oaths, vengeance, daring threats, and most fearful words against Time, Love, Gods, and Men.  
O Time, said he, Traitor unto Love: O Love abused by Time: O Gods unjust to men: O Men too subject to the Gods. O that your Deities were essential, visible, and mortal, that I might hew vengeance out of your wrongs, and write Tragedies on your lives. O heavens I challenge your Thrones, and deny your powers. Your swift motions I will stay with my hand, and your revolutions I will drown in the Sea: I will unloose the bonds of Orion, and stop the course of each constellation. The straying Stars I will pluck from their Spheres, and with their influences will I kill all the Tyrants on the earth. Time I will consume with my breath, and burn up Love with the Sun. The world I will cut a sunder with my Sword, and make a new Land in the air. The Waters I will swallow up, and bury the winds in the Moon. Jxion I will remove from his moving and tormenting seat, and set the Dauphin on his turning wheel, where hungerstarved Vipours shall gnaw on his hateful heart, and pining Tantalus give him all his food. Vienna shall be sole Queen of heaven, and only rule the glorious Globe; And I will reign in jupiters' stead, and throw down fire and lightning on the cursed Castle that enthralls my love: I will beat that cruel Dauphin to powder with thunder, that I may be revenged on Time, Love, Gods, Men, the World, the Dauphin, and all for the Dauphin. Thus distract in his madding mood he all enraged, raged he knew not how, and said he knew not what, pulling the Letter in pieces with his teeth, renting his Hangings, tearing his clothes, and breaking his Bed, Board, and Stools, with such violence, that his amazed servants durst not come near him.  
At this unwonted passion, their hearts were possessed with wonder, and their eyes floodded with tears; his bounty causing the one, and his wisdom the other. But ignorance is the mother of admiration: They knew not where his shoe did pinch him, nor could they tell how to help him. At last (as one breathless in his wasted fury) he fell upon his bed; which they seeing, hastily stepped to him, and uniting their strengths, kept him down, making silence their preparative, to quit his tempestuous thoughts; Then darkening the Chamber, one of them took a deep base silver stringed Bandora, whereupon he played so sweetly, and so dolefully, that Sir Paris hearing of it, lent a listening to it, which brought him into such a sad melancholy Muse, that he began to slumber, & after fell into a heavy sleep, which so well appeased the storm of his disturbed senses, that after three hours enjoying reposed rest; he waked, and walked, perfected in his mind, and ashamed that he had so defaced the Image of virtue, and abused his own knowledge. Consideration made him now hold himself the sole spite of Fortune, and the very scorn of time, and men. Detraction threatened his disgrace, Derision proclaimed his folly, and the guilt of his own ill, made him privately, and secretly, to leave Genua, and to wander whether his shame should not follow him, nor any hear of his being. But before he departed, he both rewarded, and discharged all his servants, and paying all duties whatsoever; he lastly writ to La-nova and to his Father as followeth.  
IF silly Sheep (my ever fast found friend) all only for their bare food (as hating ingratitude) yield their fair Fleeces as due guerdons to their Keepers. How then shall I now countervail thy so many merits, that enjoy nought myself, but mere misfortunes, and insufferable miseries. Alas my La-nova, the Times are changed, and we are changed in the times: Thou writest now of naught but woes, and my grief is already such, as to live is a grief. O unhappy, happy I, whose extremest ill, flows from my greatest good; and whose blissful heaven, is become my tormenting hell. Ah Vienna, I would either my death might extinguish thy affection, or thy affection had been settled on a more happier and worthier person. Then should I dye more contented, and thou live better esteemed. But since my love hath wrought thy fall; Thy fall shall be recovered in my loss. For presently I will depart to unknown parts, and try the force of my further destiny, in seeking the worst of my fortune, And therefore have I written to my Father, to adopt thee in my place for his heir; which I pray thee deliver, and demean thee as his Son, For never will I return, and therefore write not; For never shalt thou hear of me. Only recommend my love, to my Ladies good grace, and tell her, that I fly not from her favour; but with my ill fortune, from my more threatening pervert fortune: And though I die in her sorrow, yet will I ever live in her remembrance. And so farewill. Genua, the last of my abode, and the first of my Pilgrimage.  
Only unhappy in his happiness. Paris.  
La-nova, having read his own sorrow, in his Friend's grief, could not refrain from shedding most bitter tears; and having long bewailed the untimely loss of his so worthy a Friend, he speedied himself to acquaint Sir jaques, unto whom he delivered his Son's Letter, importing thus much.  
IF Plato (right dear, dear Father, seeing an unthankful Man prosper,) said, that the Gods were unjust, in that they had loaden a Thistle with fruit. O let not then (I humbly beseech you) the many good turns, that many times, La-nova (my second self) hath with venture often adventured, and done for us, be now forgotten in your best consideration: Lest his deserts dye in your shame, and your shame mask without any vizard of excuse, And since my perverse fortune, hath exiled me from my native home, and the cruel aspect of my sinister Stars, hath quite lately slain all hope of future return. My last request is, that I being the last of my Tribe, and the first of our declining Family, you would comfort your age, with the better hope of my Friends more worthier worthiness, and that you will repute and take him for your Son: And when Nature shall pay the duty you owe unto the Earth, that then you will inherit him in all such Lands and Goods, as Fortune in your fortune, and ability, shall then leave behind you: So shall you yield desert his due, honour me, and eternize your own fame. The Lord give you patience, every me with your blessing, comfort your grey hairs, and redouble, with treble happiness, your aged days.  
Your hapless Son, only happy in being your Son, but most unhappy in being himself, Paris,  
Sir Inques having read the sad contents of his Sons resolved last farewell, fainted under the burden of his so unsupportable grief, but revived and comforted by La-nova, that was himself to be comforted, he betook himself unto his careful bed; where though his attached tongue could pay no tribute to his dumb sorrow, yet did his silent woes, show his speaking grief. Such was his woe, that it was a woe, to see his woe: In somuch, that La-nova, swollen with his own grief, was ready to burst; to see his sorrow; And therefore, having neither temperance to cover the one, nor a heart to look upon the other; he returned to his erected Chapel, where he pierced the very Heavens, for the preservation of his Friend, and poured forth his Prayers for his return. This done, he held himself undone, in so inestimable a loss: And after a long and sad meditating with himself, he fearfully went to acquaint Vienna, that all their sorrows might be complete at once: Her he found all pensive and heavy, as one presaging her further mishap; and no sooner she saw him, but that drawing forth the true portraiture of sorrow, out of his careful countenance, she hastily, yet fearfully, demanded, what news? The Heaven's Madam (said La-nova) grant you patience, and more comfortable news. Vienna aghast, ghastly asked, if Paris then were dead? Not dead he said, and yet departed. Departed, ah said Vienna, how, whether, or to whom? from life to death, or from me to a causeless change? If dead, why live I then? If alive, why then dead to me? Say, say La-nova, where lives, or lies my Paris? Paris (said La-nova) lives in his sorrow, and dies in your grief: But where, alas I know not; for mad in your affliction, he is gone in his fury, to dye elsewhere for his fancy. Vienna, whose eyes overflowed with tears, and whose heart was wounded with his words, stood like a second Niobe; and then falling suddenly into a deadly trance, she no sooner came to herself again, but that again she lost herself. But after her full recovery, her remembrance then recording, how all her nourished woes had begot many crosses, that miserably fell upon her like hailstones, that strives to overtake one another; she could not refrain, but thus bewailed herself.  
What fault of mine, cruel and unkind, hath caused thus thy causeless flight? Is this, ah this, and woe is me in this, the hoped harvest of devoted Love? Deserves my endured miseries, this ingrateful guerdon? O Paris, Paris, thy love comforted me in my cares, but thy loss hath confounded me in my love. O that I had never seen thee, whom yet I wish to see; or seeing thee, had never affected thee, whom ever I most affect: My hap is hard, that can neither have, nor hope; and the fault I find in myself, follows me still, whiles death doth follow me. Ah La-nova, what now avails thy doubtful diligence to thy Friend? under the zealous show of thy simulate sanctitude? To what end now intends my pining imprisonment the due chastisement of my neglected duty? Am I now become the only Daughter of sorrow, and the cashiered Child of disgrace? O happy Portia, thy dead sad woes are all buried in my long lived griefs; and Heccubaes' tears are all drowned in the sea of my sorrow. Why then do I live longer in dolour, since my preordinate life is predestinate to a dolent death? I will cruciate my effamished Body? and satiate the angry Fates, with my mortal and tragical end: The end of my woe, shall be the woeful end of my life; and the life of my laments, shall be the wounds of my death: And therefore leave me La-nova, leave me; that at last, I may honour the Carthaginian Queen by breathing out my last.  
These last words, so sore appalled La-nova, that jealous of her weakness (her enfeebled estate, being unable to support her oppressing and confounding sorrows) he much feared (lest overcome with grief and passion) she should yield to mischief her misery: To prevent which, he buried, for the time, all his own grief, in the heedful care of her safety; and closely wiping his bedewed eyes, he began, Pastorlike, to Preach patience, Faith, Hope, and Comfort, to her sad dismayed Soul. Let not (said he, I beseech your Excellence) any sinister cross, chance, or mundaine affairs, overthrow, or oppress, the lively force of your requisite Faith: Nor let any pusalimity weaken the wont courage of your prudent mind; but build your Faith and hope on him, who as Roy, royal, rules and overrules all chances and accidents, that befalls humane Creatures: Then embrace not a mischief, to prevent an ill; since God sends good for evil, as he made light out of darkness, Joseph was in prison, before he could be Governor of Egypt; and the Jsraelites were in bondage, before they could come into Canaan,: You see your sore, but not your salve: Though with Job you lie now in ashes, yet when with job, you be tried, there shall be no more sorrows left to afflict you, than there were sores left to torment him: For as the power of God is above our capacities; So doth his succours and comforts, come quite contrary to our hopes: To him therefore refer all things, and in him only repose yourself; and be you assured, that in the assurance of your better trust, you shall find comfort unexpected, and hope well rewarded. Crosses (your Grace knows) are but-touch stones, to try our patience; and patience is both a virtue and the true Physician of distress: And in managing of affection and affliction, is the true proof of discretion: To overcome an other, is the gift of Fortune; but to vanquish our own wills, is the true proof of wife courage, and a glory proper to ourselves.  
I confess (said Vienna,) that Patience is a Virtue, but a poor one; and that Hope is a heavenly thing, but long hopes consume patience, and water a far off, doth never quench fire at hand: And when two Winters come together, Death may fall before Summer. Yet time (said La-nova) heals griefs, by killing of cares. Nay, Time (she replied) is rather a devourer of our expectations, than a Chirurgeon to heal or sores: For all men takes pleasure to come to their journeys end before they be weary; and our teeming hopes, would ever be delivered of a gracious Birth. Yet be you Madam (he reanswered) as you should be, if not as you would be, since it will be as it is; and with some sweet deceit, exile these sour conceits. Alas, (said Vienna) how can sour conceits, entertain sweet deceits? since present deceits, are still my sourest conceits: Your Physic La-nova, is good, but my disease is desperate: For patience without comfort, brings peril of consumption; and they are always unpatient Martyrs, that are punished unjustly: my grief was at the highest before, and now like swelling Nilus, it disdaineth bounds. Deceive not yourself, said La-nova, his endeared Love, not brooking your misery; and not his fraud, never known to any, with his kill despair (the bloody butcher of all hopes contentments) hath forced thus his further flight: And for probation thereof, read here his Letter, which he sent me; and doubt you not Madam, but when aftertimes shall make him find the error of his amiss, and that his wounded hope shall be healed with better thoughts; that then (finding with the sick man, that the shifting of his Bed, altars not his disease,) he will then, I say, return in his repentance, and make inquisition after your welfare. Vienna taking and perusing the Letter, and swallowing up the contents, with contentment, was overcome as much, with kind, and affectionate grief, as before she was surprised with cold care and distaste, of his supposed flying fancy: Insomuch, that washing a new her face, in the balmy drops of her love-distilling tears, she laid her hands on his shoulder, and sighing said; O pardon, La-nova, my offensive offence, Sweet Paris, where so ere thou art, pardon my amiss: I was, I am, and will be, still the same, and ever thine. Thus having surfeited in her own sorrow, she purged heriealous conceit, and in the comfort of his constant love, she laid her down on her weeping bed, where La-nova left her, to rest her restless thoughts.  
By this time, the Moon seven times had shown her fullest face, and as many times lost the splendour of he light. When the Prince of Bourbon, desirous to see the Imperious Mistress of his enthralled heart, taking humble leave of his Father, secretly posted to Vienna, where the Dauphin enknowledged of his coming, went to receive him at his outermost gate. The young Prince, greeted, entertained, and feasted, of some, of many, of all; amongst them all, missed the fairest of them all, the fair Vienna, the admired Princess of all pulcretude, of whose wished welfare, he asked her Father: Who like a subtle Mercurist (cunning in Cautels) soberly said; that as yet she had not recovered her health. The young Prince, discomforted in so linger a sickness, importuned the Dauphin, that he might visit her, and so somewhat satisfy his hungry mind, almost famished with desire. The Dauphin (whose senses held now a Synod) was driven to such an exigent, that not knowing how to avoid the Cheque without a Mate, he was perforce forced to confess the truth. So that taking him aside; he swore by Sacrament of solemn Oath, that his whose drift, and desire was, to bestow his Daughter on none but him; and that he had banished ambitious and audacious Sir Paris, for his over-proud and presumptuous love. But such (said he) hath been, and is still, her permanent frowardness, and most obstinate disobedience therein, that in injustice, I have justly imprisoned her, not so much for her degenerate breach of duty, (though not to restrain an ill, is to maintain an ill) as to bring her to yield to your fancy: But overhardened in her wilful conceit, she rests no less careless of her endurance. then resolved in her wilfulness; for which, I also have deprived her of her glory, and comfort; sworn her continual thraldom, and pray the continuance of your good opinion, and amity.  
The young Prince astonished at the strangeness of the case, wondered greatly at the cause: Yet flattering himself, with selfe-conceite of his more worthy worthiness; He earnestly entreated the Dauphin, that he might make some trial, what himself could do for himself. The Dauphin granting his request, he presently clothed himself, in the richest Ornaments of Pride and State; and Princely attended, went with more speed, than success to the Prison; the Door whereof had but only a small hole cut forth, to take air in, and to receive such lean and slender Sustenance, as was most sparingly allowed her.  
Vienna foretold of his coming, had before, gotten by La-nova's means, a Capon, whose dismembered Legs, she closely had tied under the holes of her naked Arms, that there, with heat putrifying, they might the sooner corrupt, and unsavery, smell the stronger. The young Prince coming to the door, knocked, and demanded for Vienna: Who coming, and seeing him so richly clad, and in so glorious an estate, blushed out such beauty, that her very Eyes seemed a fair Temple, wherein Love and Beauty seated themselves: Yet dissembling her knowledge of him, she asked what he was, and would. Viennas Friend, (he said) and Viennas Love I would. My Friend, (said she) oh Friendless, name I Friend? that live exempt from Friends: My Love, why name I Love? that only love to live here unbeloved.  
The young Prince (whose listening ears, were well pleased with the sweet harmony of her well tuned words; and whose liking Eyes, were ravished with the sight of her perfections,) was so perplexed betwixt new conceived desires, and disdain to be disdained; that not knowing what to say, he stood like one that had lost himself; not real in sense, but as a fair Flower, nipped with the morning frost, hanging down his head, as most sorry, for his declining glory: In this despair, the remembrance of his own greatness, and the conceit of his own merits, gave such quickening life to his mortified thoughts, and such freedom to his imprisoned tongue, that boldly, and plainly, he told her, who he was, why, and for what he came. Vienna pleading ignorance for the error of her careless regard, humbled herself, with thankful acknowledgement of his more worthy worthiness: But such (said she) is the obligation of my decreed chastity, that nought but death shall break the bond. Why Madam (replied the Prince) in so doing, you wrong Nature, in clouding the brightness of her Sun, deprive the world of more glorious light, neglect your duty, in disassenting from your Father's will, wound my desires with forlorn hopes, and rob yourself, both of propagating pleasure, sweetest content, and greatest glory: Then leave these injurious walls, and change your Prison (unfitting your Person) for a Palace prepared for a Princess; In assurance whereof, accept most renowned Lady, this Pledge of my Faith, wherein is charactered, the Life of my Love, and the Love of my Soul; and therewith,  
Of Ruby rich, a wounded heart he gave.  
That pireced by Dart, did bleed; and mercy crave.  
This was so Artificially made, and cut; that the falling drops did seem to mourn, and plead for pity, and underneath them, was engraven; Viennas help. This he gave, and this she gave again; saying, that by gifts, we make ourselves Lords; but by taking, slaves: I will not make a Prince servile, nor can you make a prisoner proud: Affection is a mere stranger to affection; and jewels of price do not befit a miserable thrall. Then let your own gift (replied the Prince) make you a Queen, and me your slave. My fortunes (said Vienna) admits of no such Sovereignty; and your Greatness is too potent for a Vassal. I am too poor to give; and it stands not with a Lord to beg; then be you still a King in your own thoughts, and I will rest content with my Fate. Why, Kings (answered the Prince) have no privilege in Love: and the Gods themselves were subject to beauty. Vienna constant in her chaste pretence, seeing his earnest prosecution, and being wearied with resistance, because loathing such conference, held it good policy to prevent his further importunity, And therefore she briefly and plainly told him, that she was not for his honour, nor his honour for her humour. For know (she weeping said) that the long cold and grievous imprisonment, which indurable, I have yet endured, hath so corrupted and putrified my impaired body; that the very stench thereof offendeth, and endangereth the small (yet tedious) remainder of my loathed life. For proof whereof, she bearing her breasts, bade him feel, what infectious sent her ulcerated and dying flesh yielded; which he no sooner did, but that he was near stifled with the smell. The inflamed Prince, thus cooled in his hot pursuites, found his thoughts now freer from affection, than he deemed his body sound from infection. Such was the choking savour, that so offended his queasy stomach, that comforting her for fashion sake, he made a brief conclusion, and there left both her, and his love, that erst would have died for love. Vienna well appayed in acquitting herself of so troublesome, and hurtful a suitor, returned to Jzabella; and sighing out a smile, told her, how she had deceived the Prince; whereat she joyed no little, and concluded thereby, that women's pregnant wits, in all cases of sudden extremities, pre-excelled men's most sapient heads. The Prince thus satisfied, acquainted the Dauphin with the circumstance of the matter; which nothing moved his Tigers heart; which the Prince condemning, held it no security to stay with a Tyrant: and therefore striking sail, in so threatening a tempest, he took his thankful farewell of him, and all his Knights, and so returned to Bourbon.  
Now Sir Paris had by this time, recovered the bounds of Turkey, where fearing the innate, and inveterated malice of those barbarous Infidels against Christians. To dispierce that threatening cloud, that might shower down mischief on his harmless head; He made policy his guide, and craft his Counsellor; And being a great Artist, and well learned in the secrets of Nature; He cast an Artificial blackness all over him, and transnominated his name by turning his name backward, he Christened himself Sirap, an Aethiopian borne.  
For who in foreign place, will safely live, and credit win,  
Must work with wiles, and not oppose; nor hold their doings sin  
Thus with indefatigable pains he travailed, unregarded of all, and not suspected of any, unto Constantinople; where having knowledge of the Greek tongue, he coversed with the meanest of estate, the better to preserve his own estate. And it happened, (and happily happened) that Fortune, Fortune-like of his foe, became his friend. For walking one day into the fields, accompanied with none, but with his own troubled thoughts, he encountered by adventure with the Sultan's chief Falconer, who returning from Hawking, bare on his hand a goodly fair Falcon, so dangerously hurt, that there rested no hope of help. Sirap (for so now must we call him) seeing the Hawk hang her bruised wings, and all blooded on her fluttered breast, being Artificially cunning, and naturally affecting the game; pitied the chance, and boldly stepping to him, asked in Greek, how it happened. The Falconer near dead, to see his Hawk almost dead; sadly told him, that flying at the River, his Hawk lying at height of highest pitch, made so forceable a stooping on the rising Fowl, that in her stone-like fall, she ne'er gorged herself on a broken bough, that grew amongst other branches, upon the Grovie bank. Such said Sirap, is the fortune of the field; but what will you give, if I recover your Hawk; any thing (said the Falconer) for that Soliman, the great Sultan, doth prise her for her high flying, before any City in Greece: Then Sirap undertaking it, gathered certain powerful herbs, of inward, and unknown virtue, and bought other Apothecary materials; and so carefully applied his expert skill, that in short time he healed, and perfected the so endangered Hawk. The Falconer admiring at his skill (for ignorance is the mother of admiration) in the joy of his thoughts, went, and brought his recovered Hawk unto Soliman, and recounted unto him, how that a stranger, an Aethiopian borne, that called himself Sirap, had effected that cunning Cure; and that he was a man so exquisite in all proportion, and of so goodly, and majestical a presence, that he seemed not only to be of an Heroical heart, but also promised more than was usually in a man. The Sultan joyous of his Hawk, and well pleased with his description, held his requisite cunning in great regard; and his service more necessary than others: And therefore he instantly sent for him; who no sooner came, but that liking his person, he graced him with his good countenance, and demanded what he was, and what occasion brought him into that Region. Sirap, whose Courtly demeanour, might well warrant his behaviour, and in whose face, was stamped the true Character of honour, with humble boldness told him, that he was of no great lineage, nor livelihood, yet gentle borne; but so subject to the destinies displeasure, that not brooking his fatal infelicity, he secretly had left the utmost South of Aethiopia, adjoining to the Deserts of Libya, his Native soil, to seek content elsewhere in foreign Nations, And after, said Sirap, I had long with tedious travail past the hot, and whole Climate of Africa, having no other companinion then my mind, nor no other servant than my tongue: I was at length by the guide of Fortune, conducted into this part of Greece, where my thoughts winged with desire, to see the most great, and mightiest Monarch on the earth, brought me to this your imperial seat. The Sultan pleased, with his pleasing, and well couched words (grew desirous of his service) and therefore according to the nature of his pride (appropriating to himself authority over all) he Imperiously commanded him to attend his person: To which, though Sirap knew, that denials to such absolute Potentates, were held for capital offences: yet he thus reverently and boldly answered. If, said he, any poor endeavours of mine (most high and mighty Emperor) may be but pleasing to your Greatness, I shall then think myself most happy, when I shall find myself able to do you any agreeable service. But if in any wise your unmatchable Majesty, seek so to tie me to your will, that of necessity I must follow your fancy: Then must I (not offending your magnificence) deem both your highest Highness, unjust; and hold your Law, no Law, because grounded on necessity. The Saltan wondering at his bold and discreet answer, and liking his noble and generous spirit, highly estimated him, according to the virtue of his courage; that could; and durst, with such prudent boldness, and circumspect fear, except against his never controlled pleasure: And therefore allowing his reasons for reason; he freely granted him more than the full pre-eminence of a free privileged Traveller; and setting greatness and the law of his will aside; he gently entreated him, but to make some stay in his Court, and he would mount his fortunes, by his extended favours.  
Thus works our Stars; by means, most small.  
That things foredoomed, by Fate, may fall.  
For Sirap, being thus rarely, and royally entreated, and entertained with the Sultan's unknown, and unusual favours and requests; wholly humbled himself at his command; and said, that albeit, he had vowed continual Pilgrimage to sundry Regions; yet would he in some sort, yield obedience to his will, and dispense for a time with his conscience, because he would not oppose, nor resist the pleasure of his will, nor the command of his potent power. The Sultan glad of his grant, gave one of his Bashass in charge, that he should be provided for at his dispenses; who presently placed him next to the house, where the Tartarian Ambassador, but newly arrived, was lodged.  
Now amongst the Ambassadors followers, there was one that far exceeded all the rest, in huge height, incomparable strength, and great proportion, insomuch that the Turks did with wonder admire his stature, and deemed his Sampson-like force, beyond the power of men. This grim and insatiating Tartar (who served no other God, but his will; nor observed no other law, but his lust) being one day left behind, to manage some affairs in the house, when the rest were gone to the Court; suddenly, and most rudely seized upon a young damosel, that as unfortunately as unadvisedly, was come to see the provision, and manner of these Strangers. Her (without any show of good entreaty, or kind usage) with a facile force he carried into a Chamber, and disverginated her; notwithstanding her shrill cries, that called in many (but too late) to her aid. This untamed beast, or rather infernal devil, finding himself oppressed with multitudes, grew so enraged, that his wrath had no mean, neither did his interrupted fury, admit of any consideration, but dreadless both of Law and danger, place, and people: he threw all to the earth, that came near to him, endeavouring still to retain his prey, which made the outcries of all so great; That Sirap being in his Chamber, at the noise thereof, rushed in with his peaceable sword, and finding him carrying the bemoaning Maid, in an unmannerly manner from them, towards another Chamber, he so powerfully smote him on the face with his displeased hand, that force, perforce, he was forced to leave his hold, and betake him to his angry Scimitar, with which he furiously assaulted him. But Sirap (who held it a great fault, not to do a good thing well) readily returned him unwelcome interest, for his so willing leave. Long did they work on each other, like tempests on a Ship, and the blood of both, did well show, that neither of them were well pleased: None durst come near them, till that Killer Aaga, Captain of the Janissaries, hearing of this tumultuous and debateful strife, came in, and stayed the fight.  
The Damosels Father, and friends, (standing upon their strength of testimony) pursued the outrage, by way of complaint against the Tartar, and required of Soliman the benefit of Law. The Tarter (countenancing himself under the protection of Potency and Ambassagie) pleaded the privilege of his place, and said, That he was liable to their ordinances; nor subject to any but to his own Lord, the Emperor: who in Majesty, might, and merit, far surmounted all other Potentates of the world, and thereupon offered in open Court Combat, thundering out defiance against all, that but durst aver the contrary.  
Soliman much distasting his ungoverned pride, and worse disiesting his barbarous outrage, and offensive contempt: did inwardly fret that no one durst attempt to quench, nor allay the prodigal heat of his foolish fire; and not knowing how otherwise to correct his insolence, since Kings should ever show themselves rather just, then great: and the law of Nations (which is the state of peace, and maintenance of honour) did warrant his trial by Combat; he at last thus deliberately concluded: That the 20. day following, he should be ready Armed at all assays, and mounted like a Knight, to make that good with his sword, which he so arrogantly, and over-audatiously had delivered with his tongue. And if there came not any one then to chastise his folly, and correct him for his brutish, and injurious attempts, that then he should be free from touch, both of law and life. This being rumoured abroad, came to Siraps ears, who grieving to loose opportunity, as one that thirsted after occasion, both to show his courage in honourable revenge, and to do Soliman some commendable service; though his resolution was a sufficient Armour for the encounter, yet knowing that naked valour, could promise no success where Armed force did assail: his greatest fear was, least for want of Armour, and furniture, others would cut the grass from under his feet, and so deprive him both of favour and fortune. But this courageous fear, was acquitted by the timorous fear of all others, that feelingly feared such desperate and deadly attempts, as promised neither hap, nor hope of good success. At length the day being come, and all things in order, came Soliman with his Sultannesse, attended with his Viceroys, Beglerbegs, and Basshaes' in great Royalty, and 2000 Armed men for his Guard, and in the place of trial assigned, he seated himself and his sultaness upon a glorious Throne within his Imperial Pavilion; great was the press, and many the people, that waited on the issue hereof: when suddenly the sound of Trumpet showed the near approach of the Tartar: who (in honour of his earthly God, the son of the light, the terror of men, and for the repute of his Country) came with his sword drawn, accompanied with the Ambassador and all his followers, most richly furnished. The Appellant himself being mounted on a courageous Horse, his Caparisons, and other his furniture, all of purple Satin, embroidered with gold all over, with dismembered heads, arms, and severed legs of slaughtered men, be prinkled all with blood. And in his Shield he over-gloriously bore his own picture, naked; holding a Combating Lion, stifled by the throat with his hand, and underneath was written, WHAT NOT: In this terrifying equipage, he stayed at the Barriers of the Lists, until the Officers apppointed for that service, demanded what he was, and wherefore he came; who answered, that he was Turbulent the fierce, the invincible Tartar, that came to prove by his sword, that he being only subject to the greatest Monarch on earth (who had no equal) ought not to undergo the censure of any other inferior power, and thereupon demanded entrance; which being permitted, he put up his sword, and was conducted to the upper end of the Lists, where lighting, he was seated in a rich Chair, suitable to his Bases, to repose himself in: near unto which, was pitched a most stately Tent for the Ambassador, and his Train. Then the Herald was commanded to summon the Defendant by sound of Trumpet, but no one appeared, which made Soliman fearful of disgrace. Then he sounded the second time, but no one presented himself: which made the proud Tartar (in arrogancy of his redoubted puissance) to stand up, and drawing his terrified sword, he brandished it over his head, in such triumphing and daring manner, that the great Sultan seeing his insulting pride, could scarce contain himself within himself. Then as the Herald founded his last summons, a lowly Hermit, clad all in grey, leaning on a staff of Ebony, stayed him with his other hand, and required, that he might speak with Soliman the Emperor; who being brought before him, bowed himself thrice before him, and then prayed in zeal of justice, and for the honour of the Turkish Empire, he might have Horse, and Armour, to tame that uncivil and untutored Tartar, whose pride, he said, was not so high, but that Vengeance did sit above it.  
The Sultan glad that any one durst, and would in his honour undertake, so great and fearful a hazard; commanded that presently he should be withdrawn, and brought to his Armoury, and there at his choice be Armed, & mounted as his proper Champion; which was no sooner said, but that the Hermit being attended on thither, took (upon the view of all) one of the largest, and one that fitted his own conceit best: wherewith being Armed, and mounted, he showed himself at the Barrier's end of the List, in a bright Azure Armour, like unto the sky, with a half Moon in the midst, both before, and behind: His Bases, Caparizons, and other furniture waved like a Sea, full of silver Fishes, that seemed as he rid, to stir; and play under so bright a Planet. On his Shield he had a Ship, stayed (in the midst of a Sea) by a little Fish, called Remora; and his impress was, Virtue, not force. As thus he stood looking for entrance, The appointed Officers, demanded what he was, and wherefore he came, who answered, that he was a Man of peace, a devout Hermit, and one of the least of the most humblest Servants of Great Soliman; Who for the love of Honour, and to honour his Lord, came to approve that the Sultan of Turkey, was a greater and a more Imperial, and a more magnificent Monarch, than the Tartarian Emperor, and much more renowned in his person; And that Turbulents shameful, and criminal offence, was punishable (by all national laws) where the fault was committed; and this he would make good on his body, and desired to enter the Lists. Upon this, all the Turks gave a great shout, and cried God, and Mahomet for the Hermit: And so putting up his Sword, he was conducted by one of the Basshaes' to the other end of the Lists, where dismounting himself, he was seated in a rich Chair of State, curiously wrought with half Moons in silver, and set with precious Stones. During their small repose, the elected Officers viewed their Arms, and their Armours, to see whether they were of equal length, and that there were no wrong done to Chivalry: and then the chief Herald proclaimed, that no one under pain of death should enter the Lists, but the Officers apppointed to the service, and that no one should cast any thing into the Lists, nor use any words, nor sign to discourage, or encourage either party.  
This done, he bade the Combatants to rise, and mount themselves, and at the sound of Trumpet to begin the assault. At the setting forth it could not be discerned who was first. The Tartar, bearing his Mast-like Staff over high, carried away part of the Hermit's Plume; But the Hermit (unto whom judgement and custom, gave an advantage) bore himself so evenly in his winged Course, that he hit the Tartar so forceable on the breast, that though the goodness of his Armour denied entrance, yet did it make him do homage to the strength of the blow: For Turbulent keeping his seat, was notwithstanding, by the breaking of all his Girths, set on the ground, with his Saddle betwixt his legs. This not only moved great laughter, but struck all men with such a wonder, that where before they could not harbour the least hope, now they began to look after good hap. The Tartar swelling with ireful disdain (like unto the disturbed Ocean) breathed out direful revenge; and furiously drawing forth his dreadful Sword, called for him, (who needed no summons at all) threatening death and destruction, not only to him, but to all others. But the Hermit, whose undismayed courage, could not be shaken with any boisterous winds; upon his stopage, turned his Horse, and seeing him on foot, (scorning the advantage) alighted, and unsheathing his correcting Scimitar, advisedly came towards the Tartar, who rudely saluted him, with so mighty a blow, that notwithstanding his full ward, with his Shield) he was forced to stagger a little; whereby he knew the unresistable strength of his Foe, and more warily stood after, rather upon motion, then warding: Yet did his superlative valour, equal the others incomparable strength: But the Hermit, in guerdon of Turbulents cold courtesy, returned him such powerful thanks, as made his dazzled eyes ready to start out of his disturbed head. This interchange of puissant strokes (echoing like the Ciclopes blows upon their fiery Anviles) begot such spiteful disdain, and malicious rage in both, that the tempestuous fury of their stormy blows came like thunder, to the amazement of the beholders: The great stature, and unresistable strength of the one, showing both might and courage; and the unmatchable valour, and practive skill of the other, showing great prowiss and judgement. Turbulent, mad with hateful and angry contempt, that any one should, or could, so stand against him (trusting to his never failing strength) laid on such load on the magnanimous Hermit, as all men wondered how he could keep his standing, or standing, durst once stand to withstand him: But the bold haughty Hermit, whose watchful care, and used skill, had made him expert in such threatening tempests, gave some way unto that stormy shower, avoiding the danger, sometimes by motion of his Body, and sometimes by strong and wary wards; never losing any advantage to offend, nor giving ground in his defence.  
In the end, finding the Tartars wasting fury to consume itself; In the abatement thereof, he so redoubled his renewed blows, which like hailstones, strove to overtake each other before they fell, that Turbulent knew not how to avoid the greatness of the storm. Now was there several Armours broken, bruised, and mangled in many places, and the blood that issued from them both, made the died Earth a witness of their implacable rage. But the Tartar, that had lost most blood, finding his strength to abate, united all his forces together, and smote the Hermit so forceably on his Burgonet, that notwithstanding his Shield, which then he clove asunder, he brought him on his knees maugre both his ward and his might; but such was his quick delivery, and invincible courage, that he was no sooner down, than he was up again; and seeing himself deprived of the best part of his defence, he was so overcome with scornful anger, that he had been brought so low; that he began to renew the Fight, more furiously, and with much more puissant and insupportable blows, than before; and finding (by his everwatching eye) that the Vambrasse was broken, and fall'n from the Tartars Curatt, and that he was within his advantage; taking his threatening and wrathful Sword in both his hands, he hit him so full and so strongly on his disarmed Arm, that he severed it from his cursed Body, so that Arm, and harmful sword, fell both to the ground. The Sultan, and all the rest, beyond all wonder, wondering at the greatness of the blow, and the continuance of so terrible cumbate, admired who that valiant Hermit should be, that with such unwearied force, and such approved skill, had showed such prowess, as the like was never seen.  
The loss of the Tartars arm made him curse heaven, and earth, and frothing at his mouth, like a wild chaffed Bull, he bellowing out wrath, and vengeance, in such a madding manner, that (being as ignorant of his Fate, as he was impudently mad in the maintenance of his ignominious wrong) he desperately run headlong on the Hermit, thinking so to bear him over. But advised experience, and wary circumspection, which had ever armed the Hermit for all accidents, and assaults, made him unwilling of such unkind embracement: And therefore made stopage by a most fortunate thrust, which finding entrance under his bruised Tases, run upwards, and made quick inquisition after his death. Thus was the pride of Goliath turned to confusion, and thus fell the redoubted Tartar, like a great Town upon the earth, to the amazed grief of the Ambassador, and all his Train; and to the admiring joys of the Sultan and his Turks. But the Hermit, who ever held, that to destroy mercifully, was to save; stepped to him, and pulling off his head-piece, with his sword he smit off his fearful head, and holding it up on high, Cried, God save Soliman, the invincible Sultan, the mightiest Emperor, and greatest Potentate on earth.  
This being done, the Trumpets triumphantly sounded forth the joy of most pleasing Victory, and all the people made such rejoicing Cries, that their applauding shouts pierced the lower region, to witness their glory on the earth. But silence being made, the heroical victorious Hermit (armed with glorious conquest) was betwixt two Beglerbegges (the chiefest of the Turkish Nobility) brought with sounding Trumpets unto the Sultan, who commending his great strength, his surmounting prowess, and most invincible courage, commanded him to put off his Helmet, that he might know who had so much honoured him, that according to his great merit, he might deservedly advance him. To which the humble Hermit answered, that all his Actions did aim at Honour, not at advancement; and that the favours he had already found and received of so great a Prince, was all-sufficient in itself, to enable a weaker arm to perform a greater work; beside, his desire (he said) did carry him beyond all means, and ability, to do him a more pleasing service; And therewithal taking of his Helmet, in all humility he bowed his body (according to the Turkish manner) thrice unto him. But when Soliman saw that he was Sirap, his new affected and entertained friend, laying aside all state and regard of greatness, he ran to him, and embracing him, said: How shall the Turkish Sultan requite the honourable love of so praiseworthy a friend, that in therenowned hazard of his invaluable life, hath both preserved, and dignified my name, and the fame of my Empire. But more befitting times, shall show us respectively grateful, and affectionately mindful, of so virtuous a friend, so famous a Champion, and so glorious an act. In the interim, he commanded that three of his chief Bashaes' should ride before Sirap, and that the first should carry the Tartars louped arm and sword: the second his unwieldy spear, and massy shield; and the third, his grim and terrible severed head; and that after should follow the monstrous and headless trunk of that huge boasting Goliath; after whom should march the disgraced Ambassador, and all his discontented train: And that Sirap mounted on his Courser, all alone, with his naked bloodied sword in his hand, like a Conqueror should follow; and after him, he himself, his sultaness, and all his royal Attendants would ride, and so pass through the City, to his Palace. This he did to honour his friend; And out of this honour, did Eugenia the sultaness more affectionately look upon the Merit of Sirap. His carriage seemed now more majestical; his colour though black, she deemed lovely; and the nobleness of his spirit, deserved (she thought) the favour of the greatest Empress. This liking begot longing, and she desired now to enjoy, what she was enjoined not to affect. The remembrance of her place, and the terror of their law, qualified, but not quenched her fired fancy; which she seeking to smother in the embers, burst out after into a greater, and more shameful flame.  
But Sirap, during his repose, for the healing of his wounds, entering into consideration of his cross fortunes, seeing his admired victories applauded with open joys, honour, and triumphs; and his dejected and enthralled heart, still clad in black woe, and accompanied only with secret grief, and tormenting passions. To feed his distaste of rejoicing, with some sad conceits. He suitably composed these few following reversed, and returning verses; which being read either forward or backward, are still the same in sense both ways; and either way, end in meeter.  
joy, Mirth, Triumphs; I do defy,  
Destroy me Death; fain would I die:  
Forlorn am I; Love is exiled,  
Scorn smiles thereat; Hope is beguiled:  
Men banished bliss, in Woe must dwell,  
Then joy, Mirth, Triumphs, all farewell.  
Thus did he show himself to be ever one, as constant in his woes as he was unremovable in his love; And thus ever in his hours of leisure, did either his tongue complain, or his pen manifest his sorrow. But when loathed time had healed his honoured wounds. The grand Sultan to give his solitariness some solace, sent unto him, that the next day he should be in befitting readiness to attend him to the chase of the wild Boar, in the near adjoining forest; And commanded one of his Basshaes' to see that Sirap should be well mounted, and furnished accordingly. For still it bore him in mind (seeing the map of Majesty in his eyes, & finding the virtue of true nobility in his thoughts) that he was extract from Royal blood; And by this means, he thought he should (by his observance) make a further trial thereof. The next morning Phoebus had no sooner rend the sable Clouds, and washed his face with the dew of the earth, but that the winding of base and bugle horns, summoned the Sultan to his Sylvan sports, and Sirap to his attendance.  
And long it was not, but that each one was in full readiness, and being horsed, rid to the Forest, where separating themselves, they took diverse ways, the sooner to find their game, but still Sirap attended the Sultan, whose fortune was to espy the Boar, whetting of his angry Tusks in the mouth of his den, as though he had foreseen his pretended pursuit, and meant to wound his pursuing foes. The Sultan proud of such success, gave spurs to his flying Horse, and with careless eagerness unlodging the beast, pursued his so swiftly, that none but Sirap could come near unto him. The Boar seeing himself pursued, fled by decreed destiny towards the midst of the Desert; where the Tu●ke fast following, was suddenly seized on by a great, fell, and hideous Dragon.  
Sirap seeing the Sultan so embraced within the murdering arms of death, (knowing no fear to make a pause) set spurs to his Horse, and so furiously run at him with his Boar spear, that he happily wounded him under the left wing. The fierce Dragon feeling the smart of his hurt, left his unkind hold, and smote with his wings so violently at Sirap, that he broke his spear all to pieces. Then drew Sirap his Scimitar, which the Sultan had that morning given him, and freshly assaulted that dreadful Beast with such advised heedfulness, that hardly could that enraged Monster fasten on him; so quick in agility, so ready in dexterity, and so watchful he was at all times. But in the end he smote Sirap so forceable with his Serpentine tail, that maugre all his might and strength, he was constrained to fall on the ground: when the wrathful Dragon advancing his threatening wings, and opening his infernal mouth, made offer as she would devour him at once. But Sirap seeing the danger, carried so vigilant an eye, and so ready a hand, that the Dragon no sooner stooped to seize on him, but that, as he lay upright on the ground, he so strongly thrust his well steeled Scimitar into his almost unpenitrable breast, that piercing his heart, he suddenly prevented death by death. Now the frighted Sultan, who only was but pinched a little with his claws; was no sooner free from that murdering Beast, but that creeping amazedly into a thick bushy Grove, he fearfully hid himself there, scarce daring to lend his eyes, to behold that uncouth and perilous Combat. But when he saw Sirap on his feet, striking off that ghastly and monstrous head; and elivating it on the point of his Scimitar, and turning himself, called for his Lord. Then, then, came he forth in the admiration of his thoughts; and kneeling down, first gave thanks to Mahomet, and then to him, for his so redeemed and preserved life. But Sirap yielding the heaven's only thanks, bade him ascribe the only glory thereof to God, and not to him a sinful man, or to any other surmised power; since none but God had armed his humble heart with undaunted courage; and none but God could have given his weak hand such a happy Conquest. As this they sacrificed their thanks. One of the Basshaes', that had lost himself in the pursuit, came straying in by chance, unto whom the Sultan recounted all the accident: with such admiring wonder of Siraps worthy valour, that both the Sultan, and his basha, esteemed him as another Mahomet. In this height of Solimons' joy for his secured life; he commanded the basha himself to carry the Dragon's head before Sirap into the City, and that his man should post before to publish that thrice renowned deed, that the Citizens might triumph in their Lords escape, and honour Sirap for his purchased life. And no sooner it was revealed, but that the Citizens first amazed with wonder, and after ravished with joy, wholly went to meet their earthly God; whom once reverenced, they guarded to the City gate; where the Caliphe (the Primate of their superstition) to celebrate the happiness of Solimons' preservation, accompanied with all the order of their ceremonious Priests, received him, and brought him after their Heretical, or rather Heathenish manner to his Palace. The next day he caused the Dragon's head to be set on his Palace gate, that all men beholding it, might know their Lord's danger, and Siraps valour. Then he assembled all his Basshaes', and in their presence would have created him one of his Viziers; which with all thankful humility he reverently refused, as not capable yet of that dignity, and therefore humbly requested his greatness, that he would for a time pardon his denial, until the infancy of his weak merit, were grown stronger in better deserts, which well pleased Soliman, because Soliman would not displease Sirap. Then began fie to feast, & to make triumphs in his Court. Where Sirap honoured knighthood in those justs, and graced those justs in honour of the Sultan. Such was his Knightly carriage, such his unresistable courage; so well could he manage his furious Steed, and so redoubted was he in all his encounters, that all men rather deemed him the God of Arms, than a man in Arms. For there was neither Turk, nor Sarazen, that could withstand his puissant force: nor was there any dismounted, that held himself dishonoured. So highly did they estimate his unequalled valour, that they held his power rather divine then humane. As for the vulgar sort they flocked about to see him, with such applauding shouts, as though Mars had left his heavenly Sphere, and descended amongst them, to sport himself on earth.  
These Heroical deeds of famous Chivalry, begot admiration in all, but brought forth such unresistable affectio nin the faultful sultaness, that what before she held deadly, now she deemed it not to be venial: Lascivious love dissolved the bonds of all respects, and her mind being set on desire, nothing could limit her adventures. For though Just carry ruin behind her, yet must the Queen of love enjoy the God of War: yea, though Vulcan frame and lay his subtle nets for their discovery. How to make Argoes sleep was all her unquiet care; the eyes of the eunuchs must be made blind, either with gold or guile; which she put in practice, by calling these watching Attendants, or rather jealous sailors unto her; unto whom she told, that the day following, Hirena an other of the Sultan's Wives, had secretly apppointed a Grecian Hero to come to solace with her; for as that day, the Sultan himself, his Viziers, Basshaes', and Martial Commanders, would sit in the Divano, there to consult and conclude, for the invading of Christendom; And if they would stand as faithful Sentinels in such a place as she would covertly appoint them to, and carefully make their prying eyes full witnesses of her sportful abuses, that then she would gild their labours over with Gold, every their estates, and make them more pleasing in the Sultan's eyes, for that regardful service, The eunuchs, whose offices stood upon such employments, embraced the offer, and promised their best endeavours.  
The sultaness proudly glad, that she should by this deceitful means, be freed from these preventing and interrupting Spirits, made now no question of opportunity, and therefore no doubt of the fruition of her desire; To hasten which, she called unto her Mentiga, one of her attendants, whom she before had fashioned to her purpose, and gave her in secret charge, that she should that evening following, disguise herself in Man's apparel, and go to the victorious Aethiopian, and warily deliver him that Letter, and crave his answer. Glad was Mentiga of this employment, it fitted her nature well, and hope of reward gave speed to her desires, to do her Mistress some pleasing service. The evening being come, this mindful Mentiga (sins packhorse) that had tired many a Man, now attired herself like a Man; and going, found Sirap alone in his Chamber; unto whom, humbling herself, she delivered her carnal Letter, which thus pleaded in her Mistress' behalf.  
EVgenia, the Greatest of Women, well greeteth Sirap, the Worthiest of Men: That I write to thee may be thy glory; and that I love thee, let it be thy happiness: If thou hast wit to know Love, I have beauty to move Love; and if thou hast merit to win Love, I have a body to reward Love: We both were bred in the entrails of the flesh, and therefore subject to the desires of the flesh. Let Nature then excuse my blushing show of immodesty herein, who hath not left our affections within our own powers, but hath framed our inherent & ivevitable fancies, as facile to be seduced by love, as she hath made us by kind, too kind to resistt Love. The Sultan grows old, and Love decks not herself with fading flowers, nor can the withered Tree shade beauty from the burning Sun. Love without fruit is a Picture without a Face; and Venus is best pleased when she is feelingly enfolded within Mars his arms. If then thou wilt live like the King of Bees, seek honey at my Hive, and thou shalt suck the breasts of full delight, and gauge the vessel, when this Earthly God shall drink the Lee. It shall suffice Soliman, that the Sea is sufficient for more Fishes than one; and it may proudly content thee, that opportunity waits on thy best fortunes, for to morrowwill the Sultan sit in the Divano, and I have taken order for my Attendants: Then cloth thyself in some Religious habit (for they may ever do the most wrong, of whom least is looked for,) and come where Pleasure attends thee, and where Treasure shall enrich thee, and so farewell.  
EUGENIA.  
Sirap having read this with amazement, stood abashed, not that overpowerfull Love had given her such bold countenance; but that licentious lust, had armed her with such impudency. He now found that the dry Earth, the Grave, and a wicked Woman, were three unsatiable things: But her alluring follies could not win him, nor her attractive offers wain him from the constant resolve of his virtuous dispose; For though Fortune's gates were set wide open for him to enter, yet he well knew, that as much would hurt the ill that he should find, as the good that he should lose: Though Laurel (he said) be of high esteem, yet who so tasteth it shall find it bitter, Vices may vanish, but their effects can not perish; and therefore he chose rather with the Bee, to extract Honey from every weed, then with the Spider to gather poison of the fairest flower. Viennas love was a rich rock of defence against all Siren songs, nor would the binding benefits he had received of the Sultan suffer him to blast his benefactors Vine, nor make him mud the fountain that gave him drink: Aperpetuall repenting sorrow, he could not buy, for so golden and glorious seeming a solace: For what profiteth it to touch, nay have the Crown? and after to be smitten down with the Sceptre. Dignities aggravate the offence against him, that is bound not to offend; and such pleasures ever contaminate those that embrace them. False disloyalty could not corrupt him nor could poverty infect him. As these considerations made him resolute in the refusal so doubtful, fear made him careful, lest his denial should beget disdain, and disdain bring forth direful revenge; for unjust Women, do never appease their wrathful ires against just Men. To sail betwixt these threatening Gulfs, was dangerous, yet like a wise Pilate, he turned himself to the stern of his best providencie; and taking Pen and Ink, he no less subtilely then suddenly, writ her such an answer, as (being left of purpose unpointed) might sensibly be read, either to suit her desire, or to excuse his denial. This Letter he sealed, and delivered it to the Protean Messenger, with excuse of the necessity of his Religious observation, to celebrate his Nativity the next day, and that he would covetously attend, and joyfully embrace the benefit of the next Tide. By this coulorable delay, he freed himself from all hazard, and by winning of time, he hoped to avoid all dangers. But Eugenia receiving the Letter, read it as follows.  
THe awe of Majesty, and bond of obliging honesty I regard, not the consideration of so glorious Love, shall make me yours; the greatness of your merit I acknowledge, and will affect as I ought; respectively I honour the estimate of your Place, and Greatness; your Love I will affectionately embrace never; Eugenia for me, shall fail of her desire, and Sirap will ever live freely; yours in all service,  
Sirap.  
Disdain of contempt, and rancorous despite for refused favours, would scarce let her read out the last word, but that throwing it away in a most distasteful rage, she vowed that his life should answer the disgrace: which Mentiga hearing, grieved that her labours had brought forth no better fruit, and finding her Paradised hopes cast down, she in a most scornful manner took up the Letter, and happily read it the other contrary way, and therewithal humbling herself, besought her Majesty to take a better view thereof, and not to contemn him, that gave her such ample and pleasing content. Content, nay contempt said Engneia, thou wouldst say. Thinkest thou that I cannot see, read, nor understand what he hath done? what madness moves thee to persuade me to unpossibilities. Thy idle words cannot make my constant eye, a Traitor to my perfect judgement. See here witless woman, that hast either lost thy sight, or thy senses. Read, read, and let every word win thy assistance to my just, and cruel revenge. It shall (most potent Empress) answered Mentigae, so that in your own milder nature, and more temperate dispose, you will but vouchsafe to see with patience, what I shall most truly and directly read. I will, said Eugenia on that condition, and thereupon Mentiga read the same again, and as she read it, she pointed it with her finger, as followeth now pointed.  
THe awe of Majesty, and bond of obliging honesty I regard not, the consideration of so glorious love shall make me yours; the greatness of your merit I acknowledge, and will affect as I ought respectively; I honour the estimate of your place, and greatness; Your love I will affectionately embrace; never Eugenia, for me, shall fail of her desire; and Sirap will ever live freely yours, in all service.  
SIRAP.  
Now most meritorious Lady (said Mentiga) and worthiest of Princes, what mislike can you gather from so full a consent of Love? Or what could you expect more from him, then to be wholly yours? with adventure of life he offers love, and not regarding danger, he devotes himself to your pleasure. O happy Lady, Sovereign Queen of Fortune, and sole commander of contentment; that out of your own fancy can triumph over others affections, and at your own pleasure enjoy your desires with wished delights. Eugenia amazed, and confounded with wonder, knew not what to say, or think of herself: Sure she was that she read it directly otherwise, and as assuredly she found it now to be otherwise. In this silent confused study, she punished all her thoughts with variety of thinking, and stood like a fair liveless Picture, made to life; but wanting life; until fatal Mentiga awaked her wand'ring spirits, and thus merrily cheered her. Nay, most mighty Empress (she said) confess your error, and your pardon shall be granted: here is nothing metamorphozed; only you may see, that there is nothing well done, that is ill construed. Your fear to lose what you wished to have, made you to think as you doubted; believe what you feared; and read as you deemed. But that Cloud being dispersed, look now with comfort upon the glory of the Sun, and with joy receive the benefit of his sweet influence; and therewithal she read, and re-reade it, with such plain and direct pointing of it, that the sultaness (being easily made apt to embrace what she desired) acknowledged her oversight, and never after sought to read it, in any other manner, or to any other sense. To ratify which, Mentiga told her, that he sorrowfully craved pardon for his next day's attendance. For that, it being his Birth day, he was tied both by his Country's custom, and by his obliged observance, religiously to celebrate it, in a sacred sort, according to their wont and hallowed manner. This was somewhat cordial unto her wounded heart, though not so comfortable as she desired. And yet it did (because it must) satisfy for the time: which time, was all, surprised Sirap sought to gain: For in the delay of days, he hoped to prevent that threatening evil, which so dangerously (like a prodigious, though bright Comet) proclaimed, and prognosticated his destruction. In the mean time, he left the pleasing and enticing sports of the Court (for pleasures are no pastimes for malcontented and disconsolated men) and purposely walked all alone into the fields (the freer to enjoy his own thoughts;) where suddenly making a stand, in his melancholy pause, he writ in the sand with the point of his sword, as follows.  
My foes I foil; my woes do conquer me,  
Fancy I fly; yet love, and loved would be:  
Thus Sirap joys, and thus doth Paris mourn,  
In Greece; graced, and admired; in France forlorn.  
No sooner had he writ the last Letter, but with his discontented foot, he buried them all in their own Sepulchers, and smoothing the place again, stamped out this new inscription.  
No eye shall see, what sands would tell,  
No winds shall blab, where I do dwell.  
But then calling to remembrance his enthralled Lady, lying hopeless, hapless, and heartless; in his loss, in her love, and in herself. And finding himself exiled from Prince, Parents, and possessions, wandering like a fugitive, from foreign places, to places still unknown. Then, then, drowning the late flowing stream of his got glory, in the full Sea of his preter hard haps; he began thus to ease his oppressing grief, by pleading, and publishing to the winds his case, and cause of grievous care.  
O false Fortune (said he) constant only in inconstancy, how hast thou made me a mirror of thy many mutabilities.  
First, thou flatteredst my climbing thoughts with imperial conceits, and promised success to my aspiring hopes; and then, even then, thou punishest my desires with distrusting favours. After thou didst erect rich and glorious Trophies, for my renowned victories; and in thy greatest grace, disgraced my fortunes, and eclipsed my honour, with most obscure and clouded Conquests. Then in thy fraudulent smiles, thou winged my hope with beauty's consent, and madest me fly in the heaven of my blissful contentment. But after (like a cruel Tyrant) thou thrust my heart out of Paradise, and like a Thief, robbed my desires of his purchased prey. And now rather to show thy stayless state, then to salve any wound thou gave; thou guirdest me with pleasing glory, & unaffected favours in Greece, and feedest my mated mind with unseasonable joys; when alas my excruciated thoughts cannot but live, as strangers in foreign delights. O sweet Vienna, in thee only have I lost the beauty of the World, the pride of all joys, the sweetest fruit of best content, and the highest mark of true love's ambition: And for thee only, all these remonstrances of love, joy, mirth, solace, and triumphs; seem unto me, but as the rich spoils of a vanquished Kingdom, in the eye of a Captive Prince; which as they are, but as unbreading of his loss; so are these, but as sharp whetstones to my continuated sorrows.  
O how these Barbarian, and Turkish tunes of comfort, sound in my ears, like che Israelites bemoaning Music, upon the Babylonian banks: And how the Sultan, and his Empresses affording graces, seem unto me, but as the glistering sparks of a broken Diamond, and the pictures of dead and decayed beauties; fair signs, not salves, of my lost felicity; and true memorial, not medicines, of my purchased calamity. O Vienna, Vienna, as thou art the food of my thoughts, the relief of my wishes, and the only life, and repass of all my desires, so is thy love to me a continual hunger; and thy absence an extreme famine. Then pardon my enforced flight in my stormy fury, driven thereunto by my angry Fates; and let my faith live still in thy fancy, which is not to be controlled by any fortune. But alas, thou livest thyself, a Captive Princess to thy will; and a most desolate prisoner to thy abused constancy. O cruel Dauphin, Tigar-hearted Father, and most unnatural, and unrelenting Parent; the smallest drops will soften the hardest stones, but Nature's greatest tears, cannot supple thy stony heart: Thy justice without pity, is as cruel; as Pity without justice is foolish. If wrath were not by mercy to be appeased, no flesh should be saved. O would, and thus as he would have floated further in the Sea of his sorrow, he was interrupted, and driven out of his saturnal humour, by a certain Messenger of worth, that the Turk had sent to seek him, with whom he returned shadowing his grief, with the borrowed vale of seeming pleasant; and arming his patience, with noble resolution, to give way to all occurrents, and to withstand all sinister accidents. No sooner was he come into the Sultan's sight, but that he cheerfully called him, and briefly told him, that he meant to invade Christendom: And that for his approved prowiss, and for the love he bore him, he meant to grace him with the conducting of his Army, and make him General over all his forces. This said he, is our will, and this your charge: Then see that your performance answer our expectation, and that our love be guerdoned with your victories. Sirap wounded with these words, knew not how to lay a plaster on this sore, yet resolved in his Country's good, he humbly prostrating himself, yielded all reverend thanks, for such his great esteem and graceful respect. But such (said he, pardon me, most victorious and most mightiest, of most mightiest Princes) is my unpractived knowledge, in Marshalling of Troops, and ranging of Battles, that I should rather eclipse the feared honour of your name, by my overthrow; then eternize your got fame by my Conquests. Besides know most great Commander, that though I be a mortal enemy to the Cross of Christ, and an inherent foe to all Christians; yet for some private causes (best known to myself) I vowed long since never to tread on Christian ground, nor come where any worship that Messias for their God. Then let (I humbly entreat your Imperial Majesty) some other in worth, more worthier; supply my defects in their better deserts, and bury not your living renown, in my so probable ignorance, and unexperienced discipline.  
The Sultan weighing the danger of an unpractised General, allowed the rather his devout objections; and considering the religiousness of his vows, (though he held it superstitious in itself) yet would he not violate his consecrated promise; but yielding to his request, he made Mustapha, Bassha, his General; and the preparation for him was so great, that the bruit thereof piercing the Western Clime, came to the knowledge of the French King: who as the greatest Christian Prince, assembled his wisest Counsellors, and noble Peers, praying also in aid of all his Allies, and Princely Confederates about him, to confer, and conclude somewhat, for the honour and preservation of Christendom: Amongst whom, the Dauphin of Viennois was there, as the sole Solon, and only wisest (though too severe a Cato) of his Country. But such was his over-wayning conceit, such the elevation of his high stirring spirit, and such his proud estimation of his allowed wisdom; that halled on (I know not by what destiny) he voluntary offered, secretly, and Pilgrime-like to go to Constantinople, there to espy, and learn, the strength, intention, course and preparation then intended, meant, and made for Christendom. This being applauded by the whole assembly, so tickled the flattering humour of his vain glory (the eclipse of his mature wisdom) that poisoned with their praises; he failed to look into the true consideration of so doubtful, and threatening an enterprise. Pride made him forget both his place, and his years; and Glory would not permit him, neither to take counsel of Time; nor make a provident delay; which well shows, that they that are transported with their own desires, have no true scope of judgement left them, to look with perfect eyes into their designs; otherwise actions so uncertain, had been better not undertaken, then unfortunately hazarded: But he ever hasteth to repent, that rashly enterpriseth: He was most resolute in his determination, nothing could dismay him, nor no Man could dissuade him; doubt he held to be the bane of all hopeful endeavours, and if his fate were certain, he said, it would profit him little to take heed; and if uncertain, it would be more than mere foolishness, to fear what he was ignorant of would happen.  
In this resolute resolve, he called for the Lord Vran Esperance, (a Man, whose care and providence, was the life of that State,) unto his wisdom and trust, did he leave the whole government of his Principality, till his return; commanding him upon his allegiance, to marshal, and manage the whole State, as best should stand with justice, Law, and equity; and that he would neither in pity, duty, nor favour (such was his perseverant rigour) release, comfort, nor give countenance to the Princess Vienna, otherwise then was by him already censured, allowed, and accustomed: That her obstinate and degenerate disobedience (she being a Traitor to true Generation) might eternize his unpartial justice, make her miserable, in being an example to others, and that his Title and right, might in his absence be the better secured by her imprisonment. And so taking his leave, he privately departed, accompanied with none but with Mal Fiance, his affected and learned Servant.  
After their Land travel, they Shipped themselves, and launched into the Ocean; where after some days sailing, they were by force of wrathful and sinister winds (by the command of Neptune) driven into the Egyptian Sea, and so cast on the Bay of Alexandria, where he had not rested full three days, but that a subtle Mercurian, a Merchant of Babylon, that then lay in Traffic there, observing more heedfully, the eminent Majesty, and uncontrolled countenance of the Dauphin, supposed thereby, that he was of no mean Estate. His Complexion and attire made him a Christian; and his commanding Eyes (the true image of the mind) showed him to be of an high Spirit.  
This Linx, this Bloodhound to mischief, hunted after opportunity, to resolve this doubt, and by fortune, encountered with Malipiero Fiance in the Marketplace, whither the Dauphin his Lord had sent him to buy some Necessaries; Unto whom in Latin (as the most general Tongue, best known to all) the politic Merchant gave many kind salutes, offering him secretly, for the love he bore to Christ, and Christians, all the best offices he might perform, wishing withal, (to gain the more credit) not to make himself known in so dangerous and impious a Place. Mal Fiance (being better Learned then Traveled) finding himself so kindly entreated by a Stranger, returned thanks, and joyfully embraced his courtesy. The Merchant glad that he understood him, requested his acceptance of a cup of their Country Wine, which Malipiero Fiance (as one proud of such unexpected friendship in so strange a place, and that he had met with one of knowledge to confer withal,) willingly assented unto.  
The Merchant, having waded thus far into the depth of his awaked intention, thought good to sound the Ford at full by undermining their projects: And therefore in the courtesy of their Bachonizing Cups, he gave him some few pieces of Gold, wishing him to make his wants known, with the distress of his Companion, that he might privately relieve them, and secretly give them comfort and directions for their more security. This false fire (the seeming show of good regard) burned up all Mal Fiances fear of distrust; the strength of hot Wines, consumed all due consideration, and the joy he took in finding so good a Christian amongst unbelieving Infidels, made him unadvisedly tell the Merchant who he was, whom he served, and where his Lord the Prince was This Machivelian Merchant, being now fully informed of what he desired, the better to mature his ill design, spoke to the Master of the House in the Slavonian Tongue, (a Language much used amongst the Turks) that he should stay that Stranger, until his return from the Sanzake, the Turks Governor of Alexandria, which he did, to no less admiration, then dismay of confounded Malipiero Fiance: For now too late he found, that Crystal is like a pretious-stone, till it come to hamering; that his betraying tongue was guilty of his own evil, and that in the least danger, is ever some eminent peril. But this seducing Merchant (the Son of Deceit, borne of Hate, fed with mischief, and maintained with others losses) being now armed with all the appearances of Truth, that might fit and further his purpose, went instantly to the dreadless Dauphin, and in his corrupt Latin (suitable to his ulcerated heart) he thus greeted him.  
THE Saviour of the Faithful, the comfortable Son of the most Righteous, allseeing, and Everliving GOD, make your Excellency most happy in all your intendments, and guard your Person from the knowledge and malice of cruel Miscreants. To testify my Faith by my Works, and to preserve the living Plants of Christ's Vineyard, from the bloody hands of the Destroyer. I am come, most noble Prince, to save thy thrice worthy Christian life, from the tyranny of murdering Infidels: In assurance whereof, let this suffice, that your Attendant Malipiero Fiance is apprehended, and that for fear, he hath confessed that you are a French Prince, and Dauphin of Viennois; and that as a wily Ulysses, you are selected, and come to pry into the Turkish State, and to discover their Projects; which being made known to the Sanzake, your Highness shall be sent a Prisoner to Constantinople, where that cursed sinful Sultan will make you dye a most cruel death. To prevent which, I have posted unto you, and will for our Saviour sake, convey you from his slavish and barbarous cruelty. For know, most gracious Prince, that in heart I am a real Christian, though in show a Mahometitian, and have given addition of life to many, by private intelligence, secret relief, speedy prevention, and by close protection, and unknown transporting them to their native homes: And this, and all this, I do in some satisfaction for my Sins, and to save my Soul, for which the Lord of Life lost his dearest Life. This loathed Habit of mine, gives me safety, and warrants my vowed endeavours for Christian supports: Unto which saving service, I have dedicated both the length of my days, and the fullness of my means. Nor do I leave Goshen to dwell in the Tents of Kedar; Nor desire I with Lot to stay in Sodom, nor would I for my Possessions here, establish my inheritance (with the Children of Reuben) in the Land of Giliad; But I live in Alexandria, for performance of my Sacred Vows, and to preserve the Flock of Christ, from these Band-dogges of Satan, that otherwise would be devoured by them. And therefore if you love this your life, go with me, and pass over the Ford now the waters are low, least by your dangerous delay, you be destroyed in the Flood: And to prevent the instant search, I will bring you out of the Lion's den, and free you from the snare of the Hunter. Fraud you know, goes beyond Force, and prevention helps, what repentance can not redress. I will not use many words, (Protestation is the Mother of jealousy,) but when time shall promise better security, I will at my own charge convey you to France. In the mean time, you shall want nothing, that my Money can procure, or my Labours obtain.  
Thus did this subtle Sinon (who had the voice of Jacob, but the hands of Esau) gild over his poisoned Pills, and wove the Web of the Daulphins' woe; who finding cause of fear, in that he was so apparently known, did willingly feed on Poison, and rashly commend his welfare, to his betraying trust; praising God, that he had sent him such a Shield of defence, and had so preserved him from the terror of shameful death: But this comfort in danger, was but like the Honey that Samson found in the Lion's jaws, or like Lightning in a foggy night: Time would not permit neither of better consideration, nor of further compliment. The perfidious Merchant's fear (for still he seemed fearfully to fear) haled him away to his Chamber, where he closely kept him with respect, until the next day; against which time he had provided two swift Dromidaries well furnished, to carry them to Babylon, there to make present of so Great and strange a Prince, unto the Sultan his King, promising himself, either a great Share in his Ransom, or no small Reward for his so worthy a Prize. The long travail of the Dauphin, made him give way to all suspicious thoughts: His journeys were greater than stood with ease or liking; Yet what he could not avoid, he learned to bear; necessity enforced him a constant patience. But being come to Babylon, he was presented unto the Sultan, and like a Captive (in triumph) he was led through the City to Prison. The dejected Dauphin (whose French Fortunes, was but erst the Ministers of his will) was now so controlled, and deprived of all Dignity, that hopeless of his life, he had no other comfort, then to be void of all comfort: Sometimes he would envey against the detestable treachery of his deceitful Servant, and condemn his own credulity, in believing an unbeliever. Then would he curse his over-glorious desire of Popularity, (the ground of his grief) in seeking applause with danger, and hazarding his Person, to give liking to others. But after, when humble misery had appeased his discontented thoughts, he then cast off his Adders-skinne; and soft Pity did enter in at an Iron gate; and finding then his own cruel tyranny, in another's long digested misery, he let fall some relenting tears, and passionately he thus bewailed his Daughter's endurance, in his own thraldom.  
Ah poor Vienna, too poor for Vienna: Rich art thou in Feature, but more than poor by thy Father. Nature hath honoured thee in thy Birth, Beauty hath eternised thee in thy Person, and Virtue hath renowned thee in thy Life. Only I, yea I only, thy hapless Sire, have made thee infortunate, to be the more infortunate myself: The rigour of my Injustice, is in true justice, now punished in myself with rigour; and the remembrance of thy long injurious endured miseries, is as a living hell to my dying soul. O that thy sorrows (my thoughts tormentors) might end with my life: or that thy life (my lives honour) might be preserved by my death; so should I dye more contented, and thou live better regarded and comforted. But alas thou untimely dies, to live in thy renown; and I shamefully live, to dye in my reproach. O cruel Father, unhappy Dauphin: O forlorn Vienna, but most distressed Daughter. The Heathens makes my death their Heaven, and my nearest friends accounts my life their hell. The earth now disdains to bear me, and yet the heavens deny to receive me. Men scorns me in my fall, and the Gods refuse me in my sin: So shall I dye, disdained of most, bewailed of none, and unregarded of all. Thus did misery, and sorrow (the kind sisters of mercy, and true wakers of compassion) extract tears, and sighs from stony cruelty; as strokes do force fire out of hardest flints.  
But leaving him to his more deserved dolours; Let us return to the great Sultan of Turkey, who hearing of the Daulphins' apprehension, and that he was a prisoner in Babylon; wrote instantly to the Sultan, that in no wise he should release him: In the interim, he joying wondered, and wondering enjoined, that Bonfires, Feasts, and Triumphs, should be made throughout the City. In such high account, and fearful regard, did they hold him for his judicious discipline, practive policies, turbulent spirit, Martial provocation, approved directions, and rare stratagems, that now taken, they held (in this presage) the Conquest certain. But Sirap understanding the cause of these rejoicings, was astonished at the news. Report could not make him believe, what reason showed was false. His greatness he thought denied all private exploits, and his years gainsaid such tedious travail. The places were too far remote; and there was no combination of Christian Princes, to undertake a general War. Traffic stood not with his dignity, and pleasure could not draw his age to peril. His command at home, would not suffer him to go from home: Nor durst he trust the faith of a Subject, nor the strength of his foes: He had no son, and therefore more subject to his neighbour invasions. He was wise, and more feared then beloved; And therefore he had cause to fear many, whom many did fear. These, and other reasons persuaded him to the falsity thereof.  
But the Sultan discoursing of the truth, and the manner thereof, wounded him with wonder, and made belief subscribe to his relation. Now grief arrested his loyal heart, and made his dutiful regard, a prisoner to his pensive thoughts. His forsaken Country, was now forsaken, and made a prey for the avaricious foreigner. His distressed Lady destitute of his help, when she had most need of his aid. This was his greatest grief, and this commanded his return: But judgement told him, that her right failed, while the Dauphin lived, that the Nature of justice was to render to every one his own, and that he was bound for Viennas sake, and as a subject, to industriate himself, for his delivery: And though his exile awaked Revenge, yet Charity, he knew, required forgetfulness of evil deeds. His Country's hazard, he deemed less than his Lord's loss. The miscarrying of the one, might be holpen by the recovery of the other: but the destruction of the Prince would beget both foreign and intestive broils. In this persuasion he secretly vowed his best endeavours for his enfranchisement; and secretly smothered his sorrow, never taking notice of the accident, nor making enquiry after further occurrants. In the expiration of few days, being in the Court he found the Sultan alone, in the mildness of his unusual mood, both pleasing and pleasant: In that happy hour, he took opportunity by the forepart, and (imprisoning his worthy resolution within the Closet of his secret thoughts) he in all subjected humbleness, requested his favourable consent, for the accomplishment of his obliging vow, that tied his engaged soul, amongst other Cities of famous name, to see Babylon, both for the antiquity and worthiness of the same: And that he would be pleased to grant him his Imperial warrant under his Silver Seal, for his better security in travail; and further grace him, with his commendatory Letter to the Sultan; that he might find favour in his sight, and respect with his Highness. The Sultan unwilling to leave him; in that he both loved him affectionately, and intended to make a profitable use of his great, and unequalled valour, persuaded him to stay still with him, and he should command in Turkey, dwell in his grace, and live in height of honour. But Sirap pleading necessity to go promised speedy return; and that in lieu of his favours, he would bestow all his remaining days in his service. This pleased the Turk so well, that he yielded to his request, and to his encouragement for his back repair: He gave him Princely Robes (as ornaments of honour) to countenance him; rich jewels to show his dignity; and great treasure to defray his answerable dispense. He furnished him with Attendants, especially with one of knowledge in the Chaldean tongue, to be his Interpreter. He also writ unto the Sultan, to receive him, as one most complete in all worth, worthy all honour, honoured by Soliman the great, his especial favourite, and the God of War's chiefest Champion; and therefore he entreated him to receive him with all Royal regard, and to give him what contentment he might; and the rather, in that he purposely came to see his magnificency, and the state both of his Court, and City. This no little availed Sirap, in his intendments, and these Princely favours, and furthering means, made him no less joyful for his proud hopes; then most humbly thankful for the Sultan's so gracious a respect. And so taking a submissive leave for that time; He would needs for his pleasure go to Pera, a City distant but a mile from Constantinople: And as he crossed Thracius Bosphorus, (a water that only divideth the two Cities:) he fortunately espied amongst the Galleyslaves that rowed him a Frenchman, no otherwise known to him, than the cloth to the List: For though seven years slavish Captivity had made him a Grecian in his tongue; and died his sunne-burnt skin more blacker, than his Native hue; yet did his making, and manner of his speech, proclaim him a French man. Of him in Greek he demanded, what was his name, and Nation: who answered; France is my Country; Bonfoy my name, which pleased him well. Then (without discovering himself, or taking further knowledge of him) he asked, Whether he would for his liberty, truly, and faithfully serve, and follow him, and his fortunes: and he would after sometime, send him into his own Country, wheresoever it was. Bonfoy to gain that happy freedom, and to be freed from that miserable and base slavery; swore by the son of God, who was made man, that men might be made the sons of God; that he would truly, and faithfully (during his pleasure) tie himself, and all his endeavours, to his command. Whereupon Sirap begged him on the Captain, that durst not deny him any thing, and ever after most kindly used him, and loved him, because he would be, not only served, but beloved of him: That forth of that love, he might the better trust him, and be the better interest in him. For where love hath supremacy, there all affections attend on it, and all other passions are overswayed by it.  
But now the sensual sultaness hearing of Siraps hasty provision for his sudden departure to Babylon, grew more than impatient in her discontented fears; and beyond all consideration of her state, deplored the hardness of her hap. Her lustful hopes were now wounded in the expectation of her lascivious desires, and unbounded love so oppressed her unchaste thoughts, that finding her infected affection frustrated of conceived joys, she fainted under the burden of her unexpected woes. In this sad alteration she threw herself on the humble floor, where her dumb sorrows uttered nought but bemoaning tears, and complaining sighs: Which Mentiga ruefully beholding, and well weighing that this unwelcome event would deprive her of enriching favours, and of promised preferments, she summoned her wits together, and set them all on the rack of Invention, to find out means of some redress. At last, after a sad and serious pause, she said; Take comfort most mighty Empress, and my most gracious Sovereign, let this sudden lightning dye in his abortive birth, and listen to your most submissive Handmaid, who desires no longer life, than she may do your Highness' acceptable service. Your Knight is no doubt, enforced (by the Sultan's employment) to this unliked journey, and your remembrance will not only be a plea for his dispatch; but his controling affection will also give speed to his return. In the mean time, I will undertake to bring him this night to your bed, where you may make your desired delights, do homage to your wills, pay tribute to your sufferance, and bind him over to accomplish your further pleasure. Then raise your better thoughts, this base floor (but your footstool) is no bed for Majesty: Nor stands it with the resplendent Queen of Asia, to prostrate herself so low, as to lie in the dust of the earth. Eugenia thus roused, rose (with an erected heart) from her seat of sorrow, and carefully looking on her, said; Ah Mentiga, Mentiga, can it be that Physic hath any Cordial receipt for so desperate a disease: Is there any mollifying salve can cure my tormenting sore; or canst thou give a healing plaster, to my wounded mind. Speak thou hapless, or most happy woman: When, where, or how, canst thou effect so great, and sweet a work; and please thy Lady without perceivance? The glorious Sun (thou knowst) is ever remarkable, when mean Stars are seldom gazed on. Pale Jealousy is a subtle spy; and invincible Envy hath murdering eyes. Danger waits on dignities, and Beauty is ever guarded with observance, The light (I fear) is a blab, and darkness but a Traitor: These walls have ears, then be silent Mentiga, lest the air whisper, and betray thy intention, and enterprise.  
Thus had Eugenia (when it came to it) many eyes, to see into many evils, but they were all blind to prevent any. Misfortune so blindeth those, she will overthrow, that nothing can clear their understandings, nor limit their adventures; which made Mentiga answer, that she had a Charm to close up Argoes eyes, and that Deceit should lull Danger asleep, when Beauty should feast with Love. And this, she said it is, and must be. The Sultan, you know, (either to refresh himself with ease, or to make his pleasures more complete by change) doth the two last nights of every Week, abstain both from your bed and Chamber: And this ensuing night, being the first of the two, when your eunuchs be at supper, we will in my Chamber secretly change our attires, and to give life to our device, you must as Mentiga, bring me as Empress to your bed, where leaving me, you shall depart into my Chamber next adjoining, where fastening the door, you must attend the hour of midnight, and then putting on my Nightgown, you must as silently as may be, go down the stairs into the Garden, and there opening the postern gate, (The key whereof shall be preprovided for you) you shall receive your disguised Knight, and bringing him up the stairs to my Chamber, you both may safely entertain your stolen delights, and give both your desires, all fullness of content. But how (said Eugenia) shall he return undiscovered. Early in the morning replied Mentiga, before the day shall descry your dalliances, will I rise and come unattired unto you to my Chamber, when you shall leave my blessed and beautyfied bed, and return to your own Chamber, in such manner as I came. And then will I clothe your Knight in the Religious habit of the Hozes, the same I used, when I went to him. And so he may depart, when the Sun (the eyeof the world) shall not discover him. For clouded Rocks deceive Mariners: A justifiable cloak ever hides a treacherous fraud; and they ever may do the most wrong, of whom least is looked for. And because we will not procrastinate our designs, lest our projects be communicated. I will presently put on my Protean shape, and like a holy Father, goeto Sirap, unto whom I will unfold all that we have determined, and both enjoin and entreat him in your name, and for your love, that he will not fail his hour, at that place, but come to take Love's farewell, and leave a settled possession of his purchased favours. This enticing plot, promised more to Eugenia then a possibility. Her lawless love saw no exception, nor could her wantonizing thoughts dream of any interception: Her transported desires were so drowned in her overamorous passion, that she entertained the least conceit, that might but help her foolish fancy. Her flattering hopes held good correspondency with all likelihoods; and in the confidence of her supposed assurance, she bade her go, and after called her back again. Her presaging heart did fail her, and she began to fear she knew not what. A sudden trembling possessed her in every part, and what before she but carelessly dread, now she did more than fearing doubt. In this distraction, and fear of misadventure, she said; It is better to be in love most miserable, then through love to be guilty of our own mainfest confusion. Why should we then Mentiga for loving follies, wove the web of our own woes? Violent streams being once run out, the mud will appear in the bottom. The indignation of a Prince is death; and the love of a Stranger as inconstant, as a Travellers mind is wand'ring. He is but mean, and puddles are not for Princes to drink at: Let him be as he is, that I may be as I am. O Eugenia! hadst thou been as provident to shun the cause of thy fall; as thou was foolishly wise to apprehend thy fall:  
Thou might have longer lived in thy renown,  
But now thy sins are ripe; Fate throws thee down.  
For she being drawn by a wilful folly, unto that whereunto she was destinate, no sooner had uttered what she misliked, but strait she misliked what she had uttered. Shall idle doubt (she said) the hearse of our desires, deprive me of my wished delights? Is base fear (the badge and terror of Peasants) a befiting Counsellor for a commanding Empress? or is Love tied to equality, honour, or majesty, that knows no difference of persons. Must greatest Queens want their wills, and the dross of Damosels enjoy their pleasures? Where then is our dignities, our pretogatives, and our privileges? To command others and be slaves to ourselves, is worse than subjection. I will be myself, my affections shall bow to my will, and my fancy shall command my pleasures. Necessity hath no law, and where there is no law, there is no breach. Here Mentiga take this purse, and happily get thee gone, and fortunately return. This concluding command gave her speed, and being come before him, she thus in his private Chamber all alone salutes him.  
Eugenia, the great Imperial sultaness, Sovereign Queen of Queens, and only Mirror of Beauty and Bounty, by me her trusty Handmaid, greets thee well, and wisheth thee (O thou happiest of Men, and blessed Son of Fortune) all the joys that thy heart can wish, or her affection can afford. She grieves that thou art bound for Babylon; and she entreats thee, that diguised this night, at the hour of twelve, when darkness hath put on her blackest robe, thou wilt come to the Posternegate of the Guerdon wall, where she will in person receive thee, and safely bring thee, where thou mayst bathe thyself in Beauties most delightful Fountain, and feast thy best Fortunes, with all the pleasures that true Love, or proud State can yield. Nor mayst thou doubt of hazard herein, since thy security is thus carefully and certainly assured. And therewithal, she related to him the whole plot of their devise; which she said was only intended, that by your incorporated farewells, you both might seal such an infringeable Deed of your covenanted Loves, that nought but Death should break the same.  
Sirap being thus surprised, when least he looked for such an assault, wished himself in Babylon. His virtuous dispose, did contemn such shameful treachery: Nor would he violated his plighted Faith to Vienna, for all the proud Fortunes and Favours of Asia, and Africa: Yet fearing, lest his refusal should cross his departure, he smoothly set a scarlet die, on his rough and coarse conceit, and like Jove himself, when he entered Danae's Tower, he seemed both pleasant and pleasing to Mentiga; which made her more apt to believe what he never meant.  
Return (said he) unto the brightest Star, and greatest Glory of Turkey, and present in all humble humbleness, my true service unto her, and say; That in the intercourse of Affection, my Love surmounts hers, and that neither Danger nor Death shall alter, or hinder, the wished fruition of my Fancy, so fortified by a Prince's Favour. To take my farewell, is my thirsting desire, and to seal the deed of my purchased Favour, is the Gordian knot, that I most wish to unloose, Be true to thy Queen, wise to thyself, give thy Thoughts no tongue, nor my Name no record. Thus did he in another meaning, satisfy blinded Mentiga; who proud of her surmised success, was so ravished with joy, that taking a compendious farewell, she posted (in the conceit of her happy endeavours) to feast Eugenia with her glad tidings.  
And no sooner was she gone, but that Sirap falling on his knees, besought God to guard his innocence, from all Barbarian perils, and to free his chaste tboughts from those tempting Sirens, those ruinating Follies, and those lascivious and nefarious Assaults; and that he would so direct him in his wisdom, and defend him by his power, that he might safely (without interruption) go to Babylon, and for the good of his Sanctuary, remove that Pillar of his Church out of the House of Dagon, and bring him home to be a Glory to his Temple. This Sacrifice was his safeguard; His virtuous determination, and constant resolution, merited well; but his firm affiance in his God, and dependency on Divine perfection, shielded him, no doubt, from partaking of that adherent mischief that fell fatally upon the sultaness, and Mentiga: Yet in seeking to avoid Sylla, he feared to fall into Charibdes: His non-appearance, would make his fraud apparent; and his delusion, might draw on his secret destruction.  
But Mentiga coming to her Sovereign Lady (who long had expected her before she came, though she came long before reason could expect her,) cheerfully recounted unto her, what Sirap (in truth, but not truly) had protestingly delivered unto her; how pleasing her Message was to him, how joyfully he entertained the Name of Love, how feelingly he entered into comparison for his affection, and how comfortably he embraced the remembrance of his desired Farewell. These, and other demonstrances of Passion, she so fully and pleasantly related, that Eugenia drowning all thoughts of danger in the conceit of her approaching happiness, she dreamt of nought but Love's Embracements, Venus' Delights, and wantonizing Sports; building a Palace of Pleasure in her mind, wherein she meant to feast all her Amorous desires, and crown her thoughts with sweet Content. To this end, she gave Mentiga in charge, that nothing should be wanting, that should be requisite to further their designs; Whilst interrupted Sirap (being thus Chequed by a Queen) lay studying how he might drive it to a Stall, and not receive the Mate, but give speed to his departure. Resolved he was, not to touch the forbidden Fruit, nor to drink on Cirses Cup; he would not with the Spider suck poison out of a fair Flower, nor spot his True-love with the dregges of Majesty. Proud bewitching Pleasure could not entice him to Folly, nor rich alluring Treasures corrupt his constant integrity: He scorned to sell his Loyalty for Lucre, or Love for Sylver: True wisdom made his virtuous mind to bend, rather to that which was good in itself, then to that, which by evil minds might be judged good. In brief, his conclusion was, to excuse his not coming, by express Command from the Sultan, that as that night, he should consult with his Viziers, concerning his negotiation in Babylon. But this false colour need no allowance; Displeased justice took away all exception, and sealed him pardon before any accusation; For the dismal night being come, Vengeance attended her fatal hour; which approaching, she accordingly, changed her attire with Mentiga, and brought her as her Handmaid to her Royal Bed, and after, went to Mentiga's Chamber, where she waking, waited for the appointed hour; which come, she casting on Mentigaes' Nightgown, with a bold heart (beyond the resolve of her weak Sex) she paced down the stairs that led into the Garden; Into which she no sooner entered, but that she saw the angry Heavens (then clad all in black) throwing down with violence, a fiery threatening Star over-crosse the Garden, forbidding her farther passage, notwithstanding the sable Skies lent not then an other Light: This prodigious Sign, and fearful premonition, might well have appalled, and backed a more redoubted heart, but that the voluptuousness of her thoughts, extinguished the light of her mind: Love gave her boldness, and unlimited Lust directed her (according to her sinister and destinated Fate) unto the Postern gate, which she with nimble facility opened, and there made her fearless stand. O imperious and impious Love; thou deluding Traitor, how rightly did the Poets, and Painters, paint thee blind, and naked? Since thou hast no eyes to see into how many dangers thou leadest thy servants; and like thyself, makes them both blind and naked, disroabing them of all their virtuous abiliments, that their naked shame may appear in their found pursuites. Who seeketh thee, findeth deceit; and whosoever follows thee, seeketh reproach, and obtaineth repentance. Care, is thy Court; Tyranny, thy reign; Slaves, thy Subjects; Folly, thy attendance; Lust, thy Law; Sin, thy service, and Repentance thy wages. But this mighty sultaness, whose wretched folly, was clothed in danger, had not long waited for her own woe, but that there came a base Sarazen towards her, who of purpose did straggle that way, to cease upon some prey; the fall of whose steps, gave the found sultaness such hope of Siraps then coming, that over rashly running upon him; holding for certain that it was he; she said, Come, come my best beloved; and go with me, where I will lodge thy love in pleasures lap, and guerdonthy labour with fullness of gold; And therewithal she kissed him, more than oft deeming that his rough habit had been but the cloak of his craft. For the Prince, and the Peasant, differeth but in the fleece, not in the flesh. But the subtle Sarazen being capable of his own good, apprehended the error, and in hope of gain, adventured the success. Thus did the mounting Kite, seize on a homely prey, and in her blindness, prefer a greasy Lamp, before a bright and mighty Star; and throwing her Mentle upon him, led him towards her last prepared bed: where he fearing to be discovered, divested himself of his homely habit and rough shirt.  
And did (redid, and often did) full well,  
The thing my modest Muse doth blush to tell,  
For with a lusty courage (stoutly borne)  
He did (in Siraps stead) the Sultan horn.  
And in this furfeit of pleasure did they cloy themselves, till themselves had wholly spent themselves. When wearied with delights, they both were summoned by leadden Morpheus to banquet with blood and death. For the Sultan (by divine decree) dreaming that night, that the roof of Eugenia's Chamber did renting part itself in two, and was open; and that he saw descending down from a black Cloud; a grim swarthy man, clothed in a short ill-favoured garment, all to be rend, holding a broad rusty sword, died with vermilion red in his besmeared hand. Who falling on the tapestried floor, stood not long; but that Eugenia came smiling all in white, besprinkled thick with blood, and put on him a scarlet robe, set her Diadem on his shaggy head; kissed, and embraced him oft, and then taking him by the soiled hand, led him towards her royal bed; which the Sultan seeming to see, cried out, and said; Stay villain, stay: The Eagle made not her nest, for the Owl to lie in; The Bat hath no eyes to look upon the Sun, nor may the kestrel make her perch within her beams. And therewithal grasping for his Scimitar, he amazedly awaked, and finding it but a dream, smiled, yet was wounded with no little wonder at the strangeness of the same. His thoughts still were troubled, and his heart (led thereunto by the force of Fate) gave him such a present desire to go offer incense to Venus, in Eugenia's shrine, that suddenly taking his night robe, his Scimitary, and his key, (which purposely he had made for his sole, and private passage at all times into her Chamber) he went to perform his wanton Sacrifice; and being entered, finding by the dawn of day (for the night began to cast off her black Mantle) that all things as he thought were well, he joyed at the illusion of his fantastical dream, and in the contentment thereof, withdrawing a little the curtain, he carelessly laid him down by Mentigaes' side: who upon his entrance awaked, and finding herself entangled in her own device, grew fearful of the issue, and kept herself as close as might be. The Sultan's kind entreaties, found no resistance, nor yet any pleasing entertainment. The fear of her death, took away all delight of dalliance; and those pleasures which before she made her Paradise, she now deemed them a mortal punishment. fain would she have killed herself, for fear of death, but death gave her no means of death. In this deadly terror, she lay so distacted, that every member began so to tremble and shake, that the Sultan in tenderness of her health, (fearing sickness sudden attachment) hastily took her in his arms, and kissing her many times, asked how she fared, but receiving no answer (for sudden surprised Treason hath no tongue) he bore her towards the light, to give her better air, when seeing who she was, and one whom he had spent his enforced pleasures; missing Eugenia, and remembering his provoking dream; all enraged, he cast her to the floor, and treading on her throat, he took his Scimitar, and thrust it quite through her heart, and then violently running at the door, that opened into Mentigaes' Chamber, he burst it open: The noise whereof awaked the sturdy slave, that he might see his own death; who seeing one enter with his drawn Sword, not knowing who he was, nor where himself was, leaped out of his baneful bed, and snatching a bedstaff in his hand, fiercely rushed upon his unknown Lord, got within him, and being the stronger, had him down, and so liberally belaboured him, that the blood running down his face, well witnessed, that the slave alone, now less respected, and feared him; then many Nations, mightiest Armies, and greatest Princes, that only had trembled at his sight. Which made the Sultan in his dismay, cry; Treason, treason; at the hearing whereof, came running in, two janissaries that were of his Guard, whose allotment was that day amongst many others to attend. They seeing this strange accident, pulled the rascal off the Sultan, and hewed him all to pieces. But the sultaness thus surprised with shame, with fear, and with amazement, was more confounded at the base sight of her reproachful deceit, then at the bloody summons of pale Death; and because she would not see her own shame, nor look murder in the face, she crept over the head into the bed, crying fearfully, No Moor, no Moor; because she saw, she had not laid with the Moor. Which made Soliman suppose, that she cried that he should stay his hand, and do no more; which distasteful conceit, exasperated his anger, and added more fuel to his inflamed fire, and in the heat of his ireful indignation, he stepped to her adulterous bed, and like a tempestuous storm, he fell upon her, giving her stab upon stab, saying oft withal; Nay, thus much more, and more: And the more he said so, the more he thrust his Scimitar (not yet dried with the blood of the Sarazen) into her body. This speedy and sudden execution, was Siraps preservation. For it took away all further knowledge of the cause. The Court was now all in combustion, and the City hearing that the Sultan was slain, instantly did rise, and confusedly did run to the Palace, bearing all down before them, in such a distract sort, that the Turks Guard was glad to shut the gates against them, and to entreat the Sultan to show himself out of the Casement unto them, which so well appeased them, that they quietly returned to their houses. Then was inquisition made after the knowledge of the Saracens apparel, which was so base, that all men wondered not only that he was there, but how he came there. His mangled body kept him unknown, and his mean habit made him no appertenant to the Court. When no notice could be had neither of the one, nor of the other, the appeased Sultan sent for the Eunuches that attended his Empress, and caused two Mutes to strangle them in his sight. After, he caused all the dead bodies, with the two beds, and all their apparel, to be carried forth of the City, and to be burned all together; and further, gave in charge, that the two Chambers should be converted into houses of base use, and that no one under pain of death should after speak thereof.  
Now Sirap, who during these tempestuous storms, lay at anchor in his own private harbour: as one that knew well, that great men ever envying the glory, and fortune of strangers, would in this tumults be ready, to stab at the bosom of merit; and that mischief (the cursed Captain always of the unruly Commons) might in a disturbed uproar endanger his safety; hearing now that the sight of the Sultan had allayed the windy Alarm of his rumoured death, and that the present murder of the sultaness, with her Maid, and unknown Paramour, was the occasion of such disorder rising; He grew jealous of the cause, suspicious of the error, and timorous of his welfare. For, though guarded with innocence, yet was he fearful, lest Mentiga had cast some scandalising aspersion upon his unspotted honesty. In this fearful doubt, he kept himself within himself, until report had further manifested not only the manner of all their deaths, but the ignorance of the cause. This dispersed all clouds of care, and made him a perfect judge both of the error, and the event. Then lifting up his erected heart, he said: O Vienna, thy love I see now, hath given me a second life, and my constant loyalty, hath kept me from the grave. Justice hath preserved the guiltless, and righteousness hath found mercy in judgement. Now praised be my God, my strong defence; For he hath covered me under the wings of his protection, and kept me from the death of the wicked. He hath cast down lightning, and burnt up the daughters of Babel, that I might be safe in their sudden destruction. The storm is past, and these cloudy occurrants threaten another tempest. The Sea cannot be so calm in Summer, but that it may swell again with the rage of wrathful Winter; There is more wisdom in preventing, then in redressing a mischief; Security lives not in tyranny. For though the Tiger hide his claws, yet in the end, will he show his Rapine. Revenge hath now smoothed the Sultan's angry brow, and Time hath given some peace to his displeasure. The Tide serves me, and my profane abode with the heathen, is displeasing to the heavens. My Captived Lord calls me away, and Vienna says, I am too slow; my mark is set, and I level strait, I will commend my aim; and therewithal casting off all further deliberation, he went to the Court to take his leave of Soliman, Who seeing him stand upon his departure, after some private conference, & protestations, that he would crown his return with highest honours advancement, he vouchsafed graciously to embrace him, and so bade him farewell. The next morning Sirap having before caused all things to be in readiness, the winds summoning him to Sea, he took shipping, and sailing by the Lands, situate in part of the Mediterranean Sea, he landed at Sidon, a Port Town in Syria, and there taking Horse, he posted through the Country, and part of the Deserts of Arabia, and so came to Babylon. Where we will leave him to look into France, and see how Vienna brooks her continued thraldom, which was not so grievous unto her, as the tormenting suppose of Sir Paris loss. Great was her sorrow in fear of him, and many her bemoanings for not hearing from him. In so much, that La-nova seeing the increase of her growing cares, thus sadly spoke unto her.  
Madame, these ruthless walls neither melt with your tears, nor yet shake, nor shrink with your sighs. Comfort dwells not in restraint, nor lives Remedy in Lamentations. Though your Father be absent, yet hath he left a jealous Keeper: You may ever weep and bewail your estate, and lie still in the bed of sorrow: If you never seek after redress, you shall ever find yourself a Prisoner: You know the secret way I made to relieve you; If so you please, I will convey you through the same, to some private place, where Metamorphosed, we will either hunt in quest after Sir Paris, or you shall rest unknown in some foreign Nation, till either my travail shall gain knowledge of his abode, or that the death of the Dauphin shall leave (you for your right) to the trial of your Friends. Then cast off these mortifying dumps, and leave now your sorrow to the Governors, as a pawn for your return, and let us stand upon our Fortunes: Hope lives in Industry. and my Adventures shall ever wait on your pleasure.  
This kind offer did move her much, but could not remove her at all: Liberty she said was sweet to that life, that might take the pleasures of this life; But to a dejected heart whose banished content could promise no wished delight; there a Close-prison was better than a glorious Palace. To travail (she said) to my Paris; would be more pleasing then painful to Vienna; but not knowing where he is, I might perhaps extravagantly go further from him then jam, that am already further off then I would be: Here for his Love was I made a Prisoner, and here will I still rest a Prisoner for his Love. If he be living and loving, here shall I soon hear from him; and if he be neither in Love nor in Life, here will I end both my Love and Life: Only take thanks for thy loving care, and kind respect, and be still a true Friend to Paris, that Vienna may ever take comfort in La-nova.  
Upon this conclusion he parted, and Isabel strewed the Rushes over the private way that gave him entrance: But no sooner was it done, but that one of the Keeper's Gentlemen (that seemed ever most serviceable unto her) came in, whom the devilish Daulphinis had before fashioned to her purpose, for she wrought upon his want, as knowing well, that Poverty betrayeth Virtue, and that Wealth bewitcheth Wit; Corruption having made him her Creature, she had instructed him how to train Vienna to her destruction; for nought but Death could satisfy her disdainful fear: Her malicious and unbounded pride, locked into the danger of her Lords return: If the Dauphin fell, then must Vienna (though now a Prisoner) be Sovereign. This made her heartburning hate to prosecute her overthrow: And though she had no cause to fear her, (for occasion never yet made her her enemy) yet could she not endure to think that she should be Subject to another, that now was most eminent in herself. To have the Regent, was all her ambitious desire, and nothing did let but Viennas right; To frustrate which, she with fullness of Gold, and promises of preferment, had as aforesaid, seduced this mettle-minded Servant, to deceive, and to destroy her by such subtle and obscure means, as both gave least show of mistrust, and most likelihood of execution: And this it was.  
Don Poltroon (for so was he rightly named) bringing Viennas morning's repast to her, with a bemoaning tongue, and a sighing heart, complained much against Nature, and enveyed more against Fortune, that had made beauty so miserable, and Virtue so unhappy, as to entomb the glory of the one, and the efficacy of the other, in so unprofitable, and so uncomfortable a place. My eyes (said he) cannot endure to see Dignity so disgraced; nor can my Ears entertain the kill sound of your laments: I must, and will leave my wounding Service, that at longth I may be a Stranger to sorrow, lest my grief for your grief, make my revived woes as great as your grief.  
Vienna liking his generous nature, judged by his discreet and relenting discourse, that he was well bred, and pleasing witty; and therefore required him to tell what was his Name, and where he was borne: Who answered, Don Poltroon am I called, and in Spain was my birth; my education was better than my fortune, and this my servile Place bears now record of my sinister fate. Why said Vienna, if thou be infortunate, keep still thy station, here is a place of woe, and thou hast a Princess to associate thee in thy sorrows: Hast thou cause to bewail thy mishaps? Let us know thy crosses, and we will ease thee with our grief; For it is a comfort to find a Companion in misery. Then say Poltroon, (for thy Nature agrees better with us than thy Name) and story to us the life of thy Fortune, that we may also recreate our mind, by listening to thy griefs.  
Poltroon having pleased her with this sugared Bait, cast out his hidden Hook, and told her that he was a rith Merchant's Son in Spain, left so well Treasured, that he swayed the world at will, until imperious Love made him of a free Lord, a Bondslave to Melleflora: Unto her (said he) I sued long for obtained grace; which had, I held myself more fortunately happy, then Paris did in the fruition of his Love. Paris, said Vienna, what Paris? Paris said he of Troy, that enjoyed the Beauty of Greece, and made his Pleasure a Plague to his Country. But in the height of my joys and hope of highest happiness, Death deprived me of my Paradised Bliss, and not only made my broken heart the sad habitation of woe, but also turned my mind (which before was a Kingdom to me) into a Hell of tormenting thoughts. The place of my Birth grew (by her loss) so hateful to me, that I was necessitated to forgo the ground that yielded me no other harvest but grief. In brief, for better portage, I turned all my Substance into jewels of estimate, and traveled to Naples where I spent more of my Wealth than I did of my woes. Then Repentance made me leave that wasteful Nation, and so I came unfortunately into France. Thus he drew on her attention with a feigned tale, that he might without all suspicion, and with better gain of belief, give more fuel to her desire, for his further betraying discourse. And to blind all jealous thoughts, he purposely seemed by his abrupt end, to be unwilling to proceed further. But Vienna whose crossed affection delighted to hear of semblable fortunes, would needs know what other mishaps waited on his lost love. Alas Madam, said Poltroon, the small remainder of my broken state I brought with me into France, to maintain the length of my days; but in my passage, I was set on by four Thiefs, that stripped me of all I had, & wounded me sore, and would no doubt have taken my life, but that by chance there came by a poor Hermit, who seeing their violence, without all dread of their number, or fear of his own feebleness, cast off his peaceful Gown, & drawing out a hidden sword out of his staff, he so fiercely assaulted them, that in the end he slew three of them, whilst the fourth run away with the prey, the danger of my wounds made him then as far to surmount himself in pity, as he had excelled the other in valour: And in the tenderness of his relenting mind, he brought me to his Cell, where on a bed of moss he laid me; and binding up my wounds, with a piece of his shirt (for other linens he had none) he afterwards applied the joyce of herbs so oft unto them, that they healed, and I began to grow strong. With him had I continued still, but that during the stay of my recovery, I could not endure to see this good Chirurgeon, and noble minded Hermit that had so well preserved and cherished me, sit so oft sighing, and many times exclaiming against unjust rigour, and unnatural injustice; that half distraught, he would often confusedly say; Doth the Sea nourish a more cruel fish then the Dolphin? is not Vienna the fairest City of the world? And lived there ever a more unfortunate man than Paris. Then would he bewail destroyed Troy, and blame Love that fired Jllion; and by and by curse that wretched Knight, that overthrew so fair a creature, and so glorious a City. Then would he sit in a doleful dump, and after suddenly start up as one affrighted, and accuse his offending tongue of Treachery, for wronging the divine name of love, since he was so highly beloved, as his mean fortune merited not the glory thereof. But leaving him (with my prayers) both to his Cave, and to his Cell; after many thanks, I left that woeful and worthy Hermit, and came to Viennois, where necessity compelled me to seek this service. And this most virtuous Princess, is the Map of my misery; and so he seemed to end, before he had begun; that the Fish might bite the more eagerly, when the bait was pulled away: But oh, said Vienna (for now she had swallowed the hidden, and hurtful hook) didst thou not perceive the cause of his so secret, and so great a grief? Yes Noble Lady, said Poltroon. Time and Occasion gave me means to know the same; Then good Poltroon, let me entreat thee she said, to relate the full discourse thereof. For such Subjects of woe, best fitteth woeful minds, and causes of dolour and calamity, are ever most pleasing to perplexed persons. Poltroon thus halled on, to set the trap, that should ensnare her life, thus cunningly gave fire to her tinder.  
Though, said he, I am unwilling to ingrieve my thoughts with the sad remembrance of my friends over-grievous sorrows; yet since it is your pleasure, your will commands my obedience. Then know, most fairest of fair Ladies, that after I had many times observed the frenzy of his passions: and wondering, had noted his broken and disconsonant complaints; he being at other times most advisedly wise, and most humbly (though sadly) patient: As we were sitting at the mouth of his Cave, chatting on the miseries of this life, and the crosses of this uncertain world, I requested him in favour of my desire, to recount unto me, the cause of his so often passionate laments. In answer whereof, he said.  
Though my grief be already such, as there can be no addition to so great an extreme; and though my wounds cannot be healed, because they may not be searched; yet to give thee some content, know that not far from Toledo in Spain, I served not long since a great and mighty Lord, called Don Daulphinatus; who had one only daughter named Paris-enna, whose beauty was far fairer than the evening star, and whose virtue was more powerful than the greatest constellation. By her sweet influence did I only live, and breathe; and though my mean fortune durst not gaze on so bright a Planet, yet did her gracious aspect both so ennoble, and enable my towering thoughts, that unknown I achieved in honour of her name, many admired exploits. After some season, both my acts, and my love, were accidentally made known to her, who in time made me (though most unworthy) the Master of her desires, that was, and still am, a servant to her will. Our mutual minds thus combined, was like the Garden of Eden, wherein grew more delights, than either Nature now affords, or Art can express. Our hearts fed on pleasures, our eyes beheld the bliss of each other, and in the full comfort of all content, did we sleep in love; and wake, and walk, in all fullness of joy. From this Paradise, were we driven by felonious Fortune, who envying our happiness, would not suffer that we should make this earth our heaven, that was before cursed for our sins. My Lord, her Father, had knowledge thereof, who finding my indignity not worthy of such sovereignty, was so carried away with disdainful scorn, and ireful displeasure, that he doomed me to death, if ever I were found within the precinct of his command. This separation (for now I was put to my flight) was such a corasive to both our confounded souls, that she stayed to endure a greater misery the deprivation of life; and I wandered in unknown paths, to seek after a wished death. Long was my travail, and manifold my fortunes: But neither distance of place, continuance of travail, happiness of fortune, nor tract of time, could free my fancy, nor weary me from my constant affection. At last, being both wearied and nighted, I came to this harmless Cell; where in love of Solitariness, and in contempt of the world, I vowed to spend the unspent sorrows of my Life, and keep myself from the knowledge of Men; and thereupon, he devoutly swore me, that I should not make his private abode known to any Man. Whereat the wounded Princess, in her apprehension, sighed, and watered the floor with her balmy Tears, as knowing by the amplified, and conjoined Names, and by the concurrence and circumstance of the Matter, that he was most assuredly her beloved Paris; and thereupon, she demanded what was his Name? Sans Lieure (replied Poltroon) did he call himself. Sans Lieure, said she? Oh how rightly did the Destinies christian him; and how truly doth his Name express his Fate; For Grief hath but a dead heart, and hapless Love none at all: But where is that Place of plaint, that so confines Sorrow in itself, and makes Woe a habitation for so miserable a Man? Tell me, O tell me, that I may send some Sanctified person to comfort him, and weyne him from so wretched a life.  
My Oath (answered Poltroon,) will not admit, that any Man be my means should know thereof. Then would I were (she said) with him myself, for by his Name (I now remember) he is that Divining Man that hath revealed Wonders, and can tell what shall befall every one; Oft have I heard of him, and strange things by him foretell hath come to pass. Thus did they both disguise their minds, and with untempered Mortar, daub up their several concealed meanings, and hidden intentions, that they might both the better work out their Advantages. But Poltroon seeing his venomous Plot had (without all suspect) thus poisoned her belief; boldly told her, That as she was no Man, she was not within the Condition of his Bond, and therefore (if so she pleased) he would not only give her full liberty, but also bring her unknown to that hapless Hermit, whom she desired much to see, provided that she should give him Gold, to bring him after to his native Home, and also be directed by him, both for the means and the manner of their escape, and travail. To this, she answered, that Prisons were no Treasure-houses, and that she had no Mint to answer her mind; only some reserved jewels she had, which she would give him. It shall (said he) suffice; Pity pleads in your behalf, your merit claims redress, and my feeling grief, to see a Princess so distressed, commands the hazard of my Life. Be you but silent and secret, and you shall see, that I will deceive the waking eyes of encharged wisdom, and overthrow the heedful care of reposed trust: And thus it must be: By the Print of the Keys (which I will make in Wax) will I make other like Keys, by which all the doors shall congee to your Will, and give passage to your pleasure. Then will I have you, for our better security, homely attired with a Box under your arm, and Bonelace hanging out of it, a pair of Shires tied to your Girdle, & a Yard in your hand, that you may seem to be, not what you are, but what in appearance I would have you show to be. And I will with a Pedlar's pack on my back, well suited thereunto, travel along with you as your Husband: So shall we both better escape, and avoid suspicion.  
But how, said Vienna, shall Izabella bestow herself? She, said Poltroon, must stay behind in Prison, to take away the knowledge of our flight; For after our departure, she must lock the door again, keep your Bed with the Curtains drawn, and lay your clothes by, most in sight; and when any comes into her, she must carefully say, that you are not well, and that you are laid down to sleep: So shall we gain time to prevent our hasty pursuites, and she may after, at her will, repair to some private Friend, in such disguise as I will provide for her. That (said Vienna) may not be; for I will never leave her, that hath never forsaken me; Nor will I without her, venture upon any such adventure.  
Poltroon seeing it would not otherwise be, yielded, though unwilling thereunto, and like Sin's Solicitor, moved, that Izabella would play the Pedlar, and he would become a Tinker, with his Budget on his back, a leatherens coloured Apron before him, a Hammer under his Girdle, and a Brazen Ladle in one of his hands; And thus with his Face besmeared, would he go a pretty way before them, as none of their company, and yet guide them in the way. So gallant a Bonelace-seller, so proud a Pedlar, and so stout a Tinker, all France will not pattern; But thus it must be, if you Madam will have your desire: Nor may you scorn that means, that promiseth assurance of Liberty, and hope of better Hap. The Gods to have their wills, disdained not to undertake the shape of Beasts; and we must with the cunning Fowler, cloth ourselves in Feathers, if we will deceive wily Birds. It is a Soar, no sin, to betray Tyranny; but a shift, no shame; to get Liberty.  
These guileful enticing words of his, and the betraying instructions of the deep deceitful Daulphinis, were (without any semblance of other reach) so smoothly, and passionately delivered, by this damnable and perfidious Villain, that all his wily words were held as Oracles; and the further he seemed to be from her, the nearer still he touched her to the quick: In so much, that Vienna being blindly led in her over-affectionate desire, beyond the limit of all due consideration, yielded to refer herself to his Trust, and to fashion themselves according to his Direction.  
Alas Vienna, where disloyal Treason threatens thy shipwreck, and where remorseless Murder is thy Plot, there assured danger must be thy Harbour, and reproachful destruction thy Host: Implacable malice pursues thee, invisible fraud betrays thee, and too late repentance, will I fear, learn thee, that they are most miserable that make themselves wretched examples to others. But how should Love (the Child of Folly) look into a plot of policy, when unseduced wit can not see it, nor untainted wisdom find it. The appearance of Truth, and the show of Pity, and simplicity, hath in all deceitful Practices, subverted Cities, deposed Kings, defrauded Subjects of their Rights, and taken away the guiltless lives of Innocents'. How then poor Princess, couldst thou avoid thy running upon the Sands, though Armies of objections did rise against thy doubtful hazard; yet cannot thy good, though free intention, make thee faulty, though thy over-credulity in entertaining of conjectures made thee err. Thy chaste thoughts shines still, I see, in thy virtue; and thy virtue (by divine providence) must shield thee both from abusive shame, and from unexpected slaughter. But now Poltroon had provided at Viennas cost all materials; and the Ladies disroabing themselves, hid their attires, and to cast a mist before the eyes of ignorance, they clothed them to the purpose, and at supper time, the night being dark, upon Poltrons' watchword, who then stood sentinel, they came forth, pulling the door after them: For lock it, Vienna would not, because it should appear which way they came forth, least upon further search, they might find out La-novas private way, and so bring him into trouble, who at the time was in Flanders enquiring after his lost friend. The next morning their escape was discovered, the City was searched, Poltroon mist, and every way was full of inquisitors. But that night's travel, and their unsuspected disguise (being the usual habit of such wand'ring professors) brought them safe unto a great wood, that stood at the foot of a high hill in Languedoc, where he persuaded them the Hermit had his Cell. At the entrance whereof, Vienna stumbled, the dull earth forbidding thereby her further passage; and Jzabellas' eyes were suddenly, for the time, strucken blind; as though, the feet of the one, were unwilling to bring their Mistress into peril: and the eyes of the other were ashamed to see such intended villainy. But no presage can forstall desire, Love looks altogether after their own fancies, and consters all things according to her affections. This hellhound, (the Devil's agent,) seeing Vienna ready to fall, stepped to her, and taking her by the arm, in show to support her, led her into the thickest of the wood, where suddenly as one transformed, this seeming dove showed himself a vulture; and like Cruelty herself, with imbosted mouth & staring eyes, he drew his short sword that hanged by his lustful side, and ghastly swore, that if either of them made any noise, he would forthwith kill them both: whereat the weak and wearied Ladies, were so amazed, that all their senses were senseless, their tongues were bound to the peace by justice fear; they could not speak, nor durst not cry. Now Lust, the (execrable parent of murder) seeing her abashed beauty shine like the Sun through a Cloud, had so fired his fancy, that where before it was but kindled by her looks, now having her within his power, it did violently burn by the touch. Death must now forbear, and attend his pleasure for his pleasure; and nothing could satisfy this Covetous Fox, but after the stealing of the grapes, he meant to forridge the vine. To effect which, he turned Jzabellas' face to a tree, and bound her arms round about the same, and notwithstanding, flatteringly promised them both their lives, if Vienna would but consent to his wanton will; If not, he then prodigally swore, that in despite of all power, he would gather the fruit, now it was ripe, and after leave their slain bodies a prey unto the beasts of the field. Vienna, having recovered some spirit, and seeing the present danger, with elevated eyes, erected hands, & bowed knees, she besought him not to sport in her misery, nor to spot his soul with the repenting pleasure of uncleanness. Remember said she, that I am a Princess, save but my honour, as thou art my mother's Son, and I will freely forgive thee my death as I am my father's daughter. I seek not life, but the honour of my life; for my long lived grief, makes me hate life, and despise death, But in the loss of my chiefest cherished care, my curses shall poison thy salvation; and the wildfire of thy lust, shall burn up all thy worldly welfare, and make thee a speedy prey to speedy destruction. O let then my Chaste tears quench the flame of thy sinful Concupiscence; blast not the beauty of the Lily in the bud; deprive not the Rose of the fairness of the bloom; nor brand not thyself with the cursed name of a hateful villain. The fiercest Lion hath no cruelty to hurt a Royal Virgin; Man was made to help, not to hurt a silly Maid; and the Lord of hosts, hath countless plagues to punish such offenders. Thy carnal regard is but momentary, but thy shame will be everlasting, and thy punishment eternal; For repentance follows fruition; and the reward of sin is death. Thus did she pray, plead and entreat, and thus would she have dissuaded him from doing evil, that never yet knew good. But his unruly passion, and thirst of blood, could brook neither intercession, nor interruption. His hot untamed desires prayed in aid of force, which made her shricke, and call full loud on God's justice for helpful revenge; when suddenly the angry heavens began to make war against him, and to threaten him with a terrible voice, sending forth such fearful thunder, lightning, and powerful storms, that force perforce, he was enforced to desist for the time. But as the woeful Ladies continued still their shouting cries; It fortuned that two Peasants that had Pomage in the wood, had been seeking of their swine who by violence of the disturbed Skies, and wrathful Elements, had taken shelter under a Tree. As thus they silent stood, praying for preservation, they heard their dismal cries, and hasting (for so their good Angels would) towards the place of plaint, they found the obdurate Traitor attempting a fresh assault; which made, the swifter Man coming in with his Bat, to make him lose his lascivious hold.  
This happy accident revived the dying heart of Vienna, and the guilty dread of Poltroon, fearing to be taken, made him so desperate, that he both wounded and grounded the gentle Peasant; and as he endeavoured to take away his life, the other coming in, knocked out his brains. This speedy dispatch gave the Devil his due, & freed the Daulphinis of all suspect, who otherwise had by Drugge taken order for his perpetual concealments. The Ladies thus succoured, freed, and comforted, praised God for their deliverance, and thanked the poor Men for their assistance; And in guerdon of their so happy service, not knowing otherwise how to requite so great a good, they wished (concealing themselves) that they would bring them to the Governor of Viennois, who they knew would bountifully reward them. The uncapable Peasants, smiling thereat, told them, that they would not for Jason's Labour, seek after Coridon's Hire: For Persons (said they) so unremarkable, can neither pleasure nor profit greatness of State. To which, the Princess answered, that by her means, they should deliver into his hands, the two Ladies that were committed to his charge, and that lately had conveyed themselves out of Prison. This golden hope did win their consents, and not only refreshed them in their Travail, but also gave speed to their journey: Only it contented Vienna, that she should by this means requite her Preservers, though thereby she made herself a thrall to time and tyranny. Liberty could give her no comfort, nor could she tell how hetter to dispose of her loathed Life, then to make herself a Prisoner to Love and Fortune: The care she had of Isabel, made her the more sensetive of her wrongs; And therefore turning towards her, she softly said; Though the Fruit of the Olyfe-tree come late, yet is the Liquor both good and wholesome. The tide now serveth, my dear Isabel, take thou the benefit thereof, and at last free thyself from participating of my further woes: Fortune hath bound my life prentice to her frowns, and I am resolved to serve out my time; then leave me to my fate, and get thee to some more happy place, where my Prayers, and thy more fortunate Friends, may purchase thee more content.  
Jsabellas' impearled tears did publish her mislike, and in her grief she said, that Love never thought that time too long, that did hang on desert; and that sorrows grown to a custom, were pleasing to miserable Creatures: Then what should separate my attendance from your Grace, since without you I cannot live, and with you I mean to dye. Vienna thanking her, joyed no little in her constant Fellowship: For Friendship is ever most sweetest, when Fortune is most sourest.  
Thus as they chatted, they came to Viennois, where she advised their two good Conductors, to wait for the Governors going to the Church, and then boldly to step to him, and secretly to proffer him the delivery of the Princess, and her Companion; which done, you shall privately bring us to him, unto whom we will present what we have promised. The Peasant's promise (having done according to instruction) made the Governor to rejoice so at the news, that he returned back to his house, and sent one of them for the Princess, who yet was not known to be the Princess. Upon their return, Vienna with show of Majesty, thus greeted the Governor.  
Let not my Lord Vray Esperance wonder at our disguise, nor question the Cause: It may suffice, you have your Prisoners, and we are content with our alotments: Reward well these honest Persons, that with hazard of then Lives, have not only preserved our Honours and Lives but also freed you from many Cares, and saved you perhaps from dangerous troubles. This is all our desires, we know your charge, and willingly yield to your dispose. The Governor bearing (in due reverence) his aged head, with more tears of pity then of joy, respectively saluted them, and giving the Peasant's store of Crowns, humbly and courteously he brought the Ladies to their careful Chamber, where we well leave them to learn of Sirap, what success waited on his Babylonian endeavours.  
Now had time, and travel, brought Sirap (whom we left in his journey) unto Babylon; where the Sultan (to gratify the Turk, and to show his love to Virtue, and his estimation of Merit) entertained him with all Magnificence, and variety of Kingly Delights. But after they had feasted, and spent some days in Courtly sports: Sirap being mindful of his Lord, desired to see the City, with such Monuments and Antiquities, as were therein; which so well pleased the Sultan, that to honour him the more, he accompanied him in person, still showing him by his Interpreter, all such places of note and worth, as then were there remaining: At length they passed by, (for so their passage lay) the Castle wherein the Dauphin was imprisoned. Which Sir Sirap long viewing, commended, and in his praise thereof, demanded by his Interpreter, what Castle or Palace that was, that was so well situated, so stately built, and of such strength. And they told him, that it was called Mount Semerian, built of old by Semiramis, Queen unto the first great King of the Assyrian Monarchy, And that as then, there lay as prisoner one of the greatest Princes of France in the Western Clime; known by the name of the Dauphin of Viennois, Sirap seemed much to wonder both at the name and Country, as unheard of before, and therefore was desirous to see the stature, favour, carriage and manner of those men; and to learn, if he could, the nature, law, religion, custom, and State of the Country; which stood so well with the Sultan's liking, that both in one desire, went to the Castle to see, and to confer with the Dauphin.  
Now Sirap building on Boufoyes' fidelity, as having somewhat possessed him with his purpose, and wrought him to his will; did use him as an Interpreter betwixt him and the Dauphin: For he would not altogether, yet discover himself to Boufoy, and therefore speaking to him in Greek, he commanded that he should Salute the Dauphin in his name, and tell him, that as a Stranger he was come to see him, and of mere humanity to visit him; which the Dauphin kindly accepting, as kindly regreeted, and entertained him with all the gracious remonstrances he could. Sirap bade him then ask what his Country was, how great; by what laws they were governed, under what title they were subjected, what Religion they observed, and what God they chiefly adored; unto which the Dauphin thus briefly answered.  
France he said is my native nest, both most populous and spacious, as having in it 27. thousand Parish Churches; It is most fertile, and abounds in all plentifulness of fruits, wines, salt, corn, fish, and wildfowl; There are many Universities famous therein (the nursing mothers of all virtue) out of whose breasts, youth draws out the knowledge of all Arts; It hath many large Provinces; and diverse abordering Principalities owe homage thereunto: The Cities are great, and many; rich in Treasure: and fair, and uniform in building; the chief whereof is Paris, famous for beauty and bigness: the usual residence of the King, and great trastique of all kind of Merchandise. Our laws are termed the civil Laws, wherein justice is tempered, and qualified by equity and conscience; and equity and conscience are guarded and maintained with justice. Our Monarch is entitled a King, the most Christian King of France, under whose protection his people live secure, enjoying their own; and under whose Greatness, his Subjects rest fearless of foreign foes. Our Religion is built upon God's sacred Word: Truth is the root thereof, Charity the branch, and good Works the fruit. Our Pastors are our Teachers, who like Lamps consume themselves, to enlighten others; their Doctrine is examined by the twelve Apostles: Our prayers by Christ taught six Petitions: Our Faith by the general Creed; and our Lives by Gods ten Commandments. And where the tongue of Aaron cannot persuade, there the Rod of Moses doth correct, and compel. We serve and worship one only GOD, in persons Three: not confused, nor divided; but distinct: of one and the same divine Essence, eternity, power, and quality. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost. The Father being the first, chief, and original cause of all things: The Son his Word and eternal wisdom: and the Holy Ghost his power, virtue, and efficacy. This is that God, that by his Word made the glorious Globe his seat, and the massy Earth his footstool; that fed his servants (the unprovided Israelites) with food from Heaven, forty years in the Wilderness; that divided the Waters, and brought them dryfoot through the Red Sea, and drenched proud Pharaoh therein, that pursued them with murdering hearts. To him we offer no burnt offerings, nor sacrifice of blood; but the sweet intercession of devout prayers. For those ceremonies ceased at the coming of Christ, by whom we are called Christians; and we are received into his Church by Baptism, and continued and fed therein by the other Sacrament of his last Supper. And such is our Country, these our Laws, such our King; this our Religion, and this the God we only serve, love, fear, and adore. Sirap thanked him for his good description, and seemed to take pleasure in the knowledge thereof. Then he demanded how he brooked his Captivity, and he answered like a Prince, and therefore like himself; as one subject to chance, and resolved in the change. Then he bade him ask whether he had any children, and he all sighing said, but one only daughter. Then Sirap caused him to ask why he then so sighed; and he replying said, that his sole soul's grief consisted in her memorry, and so made manifest his hard, cruel, and unnatural dealing towards her; and how he had left her a prisoner to his tyranny, and therefore by divine justice made himself a prisoner to Tyranny. Sirap being thus certified, was well pleased that Vienna yet living, lived his permanent friend; and though he grieved much for her endurance, yet did he smother up his conceived sorrow, in the recordation of her love. The thought of his exile, and Viennaes' thraldom, awaked Hatred and Anger (the ready Offices of Revenge) to hasten his death: but in the eye of his milder consideration, knowing him to be his Lord, and Viennaes' Father; his relenting heart checked his repining humour, and blew the coals of his hotter desire, to seek, and to effect his speedy deliverance. To compass which, he seeming (seemed of purpose) to take pleasure in him, and understanding of his Country's customs, commodities, and government. And therefore he requested the Sultan for the continuance of his contentment, and for his further knowledge of foreign affairs, to admit, and tolerate his thither repair, that he might hereafter (if cause so required) reduce his learing to practice; which the Sultan granting, gave in charge for his free access, and so they departed; the one glad in that he had, or could gratify so worthy a friend: the other proud, in that he had said a foundation whereon to build. The two next days, Sirap spent in covertly revealings, wherein his expertnesle, and carriage, did both win respect, and gave delight. The third following day, he with his Interpreter went to parley with the Dauphin, who despairing of life, they found expecting death. But after they had greeted, and regreeted each other, with kind salutes, Sirap told him by his Interpreter, that as a man he bewailed his fortune; and as he was a Prince, he lamented his fall. Yet dismay not noble Lord, said he, since all corporal damages, that happen to mortal men, are either by means remedied, by reason suffered, by time cured, or by death ended. Malicious and violent storms may for the time cleave the bark from the tree, and rend the branches of his body; yet for all the furious blasts of wrathful winds, it cannot be plucked up by the Root. If there be a power above the capacity of men, then may there come comfort, contrary to the conceit of men. Expectation in a weak mind, makes an evil greater, and a good less: but the resolved mind digests an evil being come, and makes a future good present, before it come; Then expect the best, since you know the worst at the worst, will have an end.  
The Dauphin conceiting the civil demeanour, the Philosophical discourse, and the pious mind of the supposed impious and barbarous Moor, honoured his mild inclination, wondered at his regular admonitions, and thanked him for his humane comforts & tender regard. My mind, mindful (said Sirap) of Fortune's fickleness, affects (I know not how, nor wherefore) your deliverance: what then will the Dauphin give, if I affect the same? The Dauphin, whose smallest sails of hope, the least winds did blow, offered the third part of his Principality, when he should come to Viennois. Promises said Sirap of advancement, are no assurances of enrichment, and he hath a wit too short of discretion that will lose certain favours, for uncertain fortunes. Notwithstanding, if you will but swear unto me by that same God, which you serve and adore, to grant me one request that I shall make when I come to Viennois, I will endanger my life to free your life from danger; and leave, and lose my honours in Babylon, and Greece, to seal and feat myself with you in France: more you cannot desire, less (my Country Gods aiding me) I will not accomplish. The Dauphin whose flattering hope, suddenly gave him a present assay of future happiness, though at the first he was very credulous in entertaining such favourable conjectures, yet hardly could he ground any firm belief; since knowing him to be but a Stranger, he thought that such deep wounds could not be searched with such shallow Instruments. But at the last, referring all things to God, and to the will and wisdom of the supposed Moor; he wholly embraced his kind offer, and anchored all his hope, in his provident industry: unto whom, preferring life before livelihood, he devoutly swore by his Father's God, the only one true God, and God of all Gods, in whom he chiefly, and only trusted; that whatsoever he would demand, should be freely, absolutely, and willingly given him, In further consideration whereof, he gave him a rich Diamond, and his Interpreter a hundred French crowns, which for his use, if need required, he had closely hid betwixt the lining of the collar of his doublet. Sirap holding himself satisfied, said, it sufficed. Only he required his continual prayers for his better success, and so left him, to feast his hopeful heart with the expectation of desired success. The next day Sirap taking occasion to walk to Euphrates, that famous River that runs by Babylon, there to view the variety of strange & several small ships, he casually met, and secretly compounded with an avarous Pilot, whose corruption being gilded over with gold, he was to bring him down the River through the Persian gulf to the next Port Town upon the Afric shore. The fifth following night he appointed to come a board, attended only with two men, and therefore gave him in charge, not only to be most secret therein, but also that he should make full provision of all requisites. This done, he presently gave forth, that he would shortly depart, and return to Constantinople; and the better to accomplish his desire without misdeem; he determined (under colour of preparation, and fitly furnishing himself) to lie some few days in the City, before he would embark himself. All which he presently imparted to the Sultan, and humbly with prodigal thanks took his leave, saying, that his period of time, pleaded now his promised return, which in no wise he would violate with the high commander of his thoughts, the great and Imperial Turk, unto whom he owed all obliged love, and most reverend respect. And therefore, if so it pleased his Majesty to command his ready service in aught, he would willingly attend his pleasure, and by his Grace's employments, hold himself more then graced. The Sultan seeing he would depart, presented him with many rich gifts of Royal estimate, holding himself no little bounden to his Gods, in that they had interested him in so noble & meritorious a friend: so blinded was he with Siraps civil demeanour, and so dusked with Soliman's powerful commends, that he could not with Palimed pry now into the profundity of Ulysses. And therefore requesting him to take in worth, those small remembrances of his fast sealed love, he friendly bade him farewell, and so left him.  
Sirap whose thoughts travailed now in quest after the Daulphins' deliverance, got himself into the City, where he chambered himself in a Merchant's house of great and good regard, where being once left, and seated; he began to call his wits to account, how best he might best deceive the Daulphins' Keeper. For providence preventeth misfortunes, and gives life to our future actions: And therefore he was neither carelessly, nor over-timorously suspicious of that, which might sinisterly, and suddenly succeed: but jealous, & headful in the hazard, lest any oversight might cross his endeavours, and so leave his Lord helpless, and himself hapless. But after he had stretched and tentred his wit, and set all possibilities on the rack of his invention; at length his desire carrying him beyond all doubt of danger; he armed his determination with steeled resolution, and setting his chance on the Dice, he thus attempted, and assayed his fortune.  
The day before his departure, he went unto the Castle where gently greeting the Keeper, he told him that he was to return to Constantinople, and therefore finding himself engaged to him for his willing pains, and already ready showed kindnesses, he was come of purpose in person to invite him, and all his followers, (unto whom he had been troublesome) to sup with him that night, that he thereby might acknowledge his thankfulness, and they have cause to remember his love, and his person: And because (he said) my Chamber is no receit, and that I am unwilling to be troublesome, or offensive to the Master of the house, let me entreat the use of the Castle, and so make you, my Host, and Guest at once. The Keeper blinded with his former bounty, secured by the Sultan, and now drawn on, by the pleasing show of kind courtesy; knowing him (whom yet he never knew) to be of a virtuous dispose, of great estimate, and highly favoured of the King; did freely, and gratefully offer himself, his service, and the Castle, at his command. The great unknown distance, betwixt the Daulphins, and the Moors Country Climbs, with their admiration of each other, & the difference of their tongues could not make the gulled keeper suspicious, nor can cause him once to dream of deceitful guile. This illusion gave Sirap hope of happy success, and therefore manifesting his thankfulness with a rich jewel, that he (giving) required that he would wear it for his sake, he left him, and prodigally povided, what either his purse could procure, or the time would afford: He gave also further charge to his Attendants, that the Table should be still and ever fully furnished, with many replete Cups of Greekish Wine. For (said he) the cost is ill spared, that is spared for cost; and the beauty of the banquet is there eclipsed, where Jupiter raines not down full showers of Nectar. As himself, he had carefully and secretly before provided sleeping Poppy, heavy Darnell, and the mortifying juice of life-bereaving Mandrake; with other powerful powders, a small quantity whereof taken in drink, would make the Receiver fall into a most sudden and deadly sleep. This did he so secretly, and so frankly bestow amongst all the flagon Pots, but one (which Bonfoy had in trusty charge reserved by mark for himself and his Lord) that every one had in full measure, his dormative full weight. These poisoned Pots he closely kept for the middle of the banquet; and Supper being served in, Sirap seated every one in their due places, to the contentment of each one; and then he began to feast, and cheer his gladsome guests, and like a pleasant Idolist, merrily cheered his feasted friends. But in the end (they having no end in drinking) he seeing them so devoutly sacrificing to Bacchus, he to honour their Religion, added then more fatal fuel to their drunken fire. Their over-drawne Cups were still replenished with the powdered Wines, and ever he plied them with Cups, till their Cups had over-plyed them: That drunk in their drowsy devotion, they falling into a leaden slumber, began to sleep out all living consideration. Now Sirap seeing his hope, honoured with some perfection, thought it fit to do homage to opportunity; for in deferring of time, many times, it is both the loss of life, and occasion: And therefore adding execution to time, he instantly went to make all such as were in the Castle sure; which done, he came back, and taking the keys from the Keeper, (who with the rest of both their Servants, we will leave where they silent lay) he hastily went down to the Daulphins' lodging, where they found him prostrate on the ground, moistening the earth with his repenting tears, and piercing the heavens with his prayers, for the supposed Moor's good success; but before he could make an end of his prayers, Sirap came to end his prayers, and Purgatory at once; and releasing him from his oppressing Irons, brought him up to view Morpheus' Comedy, which that dull God (with his aid) had made, and prepared for his pleasure.  
Thus when our sins are ripe, and God to Justice bend,  
He turns our greatest pleasure, to our just punishment.  
Now Time struck his lock before, and it fitted not to argue what was done; or what was to be done, lest they themselves might be undone; but giving praise to God in their several showed kinds, they presently buckled up their spirits, with their legs, like Bees, that having sucked the juice of foreign Gardens, make wing to their own hives, that they may make merry with the fraught of their adventures. So did they hast to the back gate of the Castle, which they prising open, went to the River's side, where the hired Pilot courteously attended their coming: In a small vessel they embarked themselves, and sailed to the Persian Gulf, and so a long to the Afric Sea: Upon the entry whereof, there crossed them a great Pirate of Arabia, whose unchecked fortunes, and uncontrolled strength still crowned his hardest attempts with victory. But his Pride was now like a vapour, that ascending high, soon turneth into smoke. For he no sooner saw their small Frigate, but counting it his purchase, he hastily made towards them, and looking for no resistance, he grappled with them, and commanded them to yield. But Sirap being unwilling to lose the rich benefit of his high adventure, having no acquaintence with fear, and being ever accustomed to conquer, drew forth his sleeping Scimitar, which his enraged fury whetted so sharp, that he clove the first opposer down to the back, and sent the head of the next, as an Ambassador, to plead for peace amongst the monsters of the Sea. The Dauphin seeing such great chips cut out of such rough timber, wondered at his force, and admired his valour; Death seemed now to hold a Sessions in the Ship, and Sirap still gave the summons for their appearance. For fearing lest their entry into his Ship should endanger the Dauphin; he to prevent that, hazarded himself the more, by leaping in among his enemies, where his magnanimous mind, armed with the arm of puissance, so disheartened his foes, that the Captain fearing least any more should come to assist him, caused the ships to be ungrapled: And no sooner were they separated, but that the timorous Pilot wherein the Dauphin was, seeing himself severed from peril, began to turn the stern of his Ship, and with a side wind to sail back; which Boufoy espying, thought it better to dye in adventure of his liberty, then to become a Captive again to misery.  
Despair therefore made him valiant, and necessity did add to his courage, which made him to exceed himself in might, and to go beyond all hope in success: For suddenly running the Pilot thorough with his sword, he wounded the next to him so sore, that he could not offend. The Dauphin seeing the success of his bold attempt, raised his fallen courage to the height of noble resolution; and unsheathing his quiet sword that Sirap had given him, he gave him such assistance, as his weak ability could afford. In the end, fear made them valiant, and their valour freed them from fear. The assaulted Sailors (being weaponless) fell in their blood; and in their overthrows, did the survivours submit themselves to the mercy of their swords Force now overawed them, and they were compelled by Boufoy to make towards the other Ship, wherein Sirap was making an end of an unequal battle. For having at the first slain their redoubted Captain, he wrested his approved broad shield from him, under which shelter, his increasing valour made such slaughter, as of sixteen persons, he left but three alive, which as Boufoy came in, were prostrate on their knees for pardon. But when Sirap saw them, and understood of their interaccident, he was more glad of their safeties, than he was of his own victory. The Dauphin stood amazed when he saw the Shipped embossed with scattered heads, divided arms, and dismembered legs; And in his admiration said, If he be but a man, how this? If more than a man, why this? Such forceable blows, shows a power beyond all humane power; and yet I see he is but a man, though he hath done much more than many men. This estimate of his valour and worth, made him ever after respect him more for his incomparable prowess, than he did before for his deliverance. Boufoy now thought himself happy in such a Master, and Sirap grew proud of such a servant. Love (the joy of nature) now sat in triumph for their securities; and the wrathful God of War, being wearied with destruction, laid him down in the bed of peace: With these two Ships, they securely sailed, with winds suitable to their wills all along the coasts of Magadoxa in Aethiopia, and so by Guine, where meeting with a Portugal Merchant, they hired the Pilot to bring them to Marselles.  
Thus did the inscrutable providence of God, from injurious and bad causes, produce good effects; making the banishment of the one, to save the life of the other; and the love of liberty, to give liberty to love. The change that change of fortune wrought in them all, made their minds more than pleasing Paradises of unspeakable pleasures. The Dauphin dreamt of nought but Majesty and Dignities; Boufoy of freedom and preferment: and Sirap his rich hopes promised him now golden fortunes: yet durst he not unmask himself, lest he should deprive Conceit of his new Christendom, and betray Policy of his chiefest pretence; but still holding the borrowed habit and artificial colour of a black Moor, he still spoke unto the Dauphin by Boufoy his Interpreter, by whom he discoursed of many things: and again, and again, and still again, enquired of such affairs, as most nearest did concern him: wherein he took double delight, in not only gaining knowledge of the assurance of Viennaes' life and love: but in deceiving the Dauphin, that the Dauphin might thereby be the more deceived. In this clouded communication, we will leave them a while, to see what befell Malipiero Fiance, whom we left detained in the Tavern, ignorant of his Lords surprise, though not innocent of the cause.  
Ten days did the Vintner keep him close, still expecting that either the Merchant should return, or that the Sanzake should send for his restrained guest. But when he could neither hear of the one, nor the other; he began to grow jealous of the matter, and premeditating thereon at last, fastened on this belief; That the Merchant (like a subtle Mercurian) had cheated the stranger, and after left him, not only to pay for the wine, but also made him a stale to convey himself away under the face of honesty. For otherwise he thought, that if there had been cause of taxation, complaint, or examination; there would no doubt have been hasty inquisition made after him.  
In this persuasion he set Mal Fiance at liberty, who now found his repenting error, in the loss of his Lord; Shame rebuked his tongue, Grief attached his heart, and Fear afflicted all his thoughts. At this dear rate he purchased wit; which taught him to labour more advisedly in the fearful search of the Dauphin; His enquiring eyes did still pry into every corner of all his careful and wand'ring ways; and in all assemblies, he sought whom he could not find. But when neither weary time, nor wary search, could give him any knowledge of him. Then happily meeting with a Fleming, that was ready bound for Zealand, he went a shipbord with him, hoping that either he should find his Lord returned to Viennois, or give them cause to follow him in better quest. After many days sailing they happily arrived at Middleburge, where in an old decayed Burgamasters house, they lodged Malipiero Fiance; who finding the aged jealousy of his aged Host, cunningly carried himself in a strict show of purity; that under that deceit, he might the better deceive. This suspicious Sire, having not only a beautiful daughter, but a young fair wife, whom lately he had espoused, was so fearfully jealous of them both, that he confined them within the limit of his house; and if either of them were but out of his sight, he strait supposed she was in action; A service which none can digest, that may not themselves perform. But to take away all means that did help (not heal) his misdeemes; he caused his daughter to lie in a lowbed within his Chamber, and made the door to be locked each night.  
Now it fell out, that there was a great and secret love betwixt his daughter, and one Haunce, the son of a rich Tanner, that dwelled not far from him, who by appointment came presently after supper time to her Chamber window that looked into the Garden, where he so passionately pleaded for the Harvest of his amorous desires, that she (being made of flesh not flint) granted that he should reap the full fruition of his love, if he would but adventure the venture of it. For so (said she) it is, that over and beside my Father's watchful fear, and ever waking jealousy, I do lie near unto him, within his Chamber, where though I may easily give you entrance, yet to entertain you without his perceivance, stands not with my belief. That matters not said Haunce, I will not leave the venture, for any adventure; leave the managing thereof to me, who will for thy sake attempt the height of the hazard. Love fears no danger; and pleasure without show of peril, looseth the vigour of her sweetness: I will with fear so deceive his fear; that I will take from him all apprehension of such fear. Only be not thou afraid at any thing that thou shalt hear, or see, and so farewell, and expect my coming.  
All this wanton discourse did Malipiero Fiance listening hear, as by chance he leaned in his chamber window, which was but the breadth of a post from her window; who like a true Venerean (knowing their carnal conclusion) resolved to take the benefit of the match, though she were more than his match, & to put into the Mediterranean Sea, when the wind should serve, in that pleasant Pinnace, wherein enhanced Haunce hoped solely to sail withioy through the Magellan straits. To affect which, he sat in counsel with all his thoughts, how he might best deceive, not only hopeful Haunce, but also her jealous Father, and overamorous Mother; who being sick of old ages tedious, and overlong enduring debilities, had many times by her alluring eyes, stolen glances, and other enticing demeanours, looked for Physic at his hands. At last, device advised him, that there was no way to bind jealousy to the peace, and to keep himself from interruption, but only by horror of fear, to make him lose himself, and senseless of all other fear: In proof whereof, that night, at the dead hour of heavy and leaden sleep, he took one of his bed sheets, and tying a knot on the top, threw it over him, and like a troubled ghost, with doubtful paces, went into the Burgamasters Chamber; who being kept waking by his decrepit griefs, heard the fall of his steps, and being so dark, that he could not see, he ghastly asked who was there: None but I, said his watching sensual daughter, supposing it had been Haunce. Is the door locked said he: yes, quoth she, you heard me lock it yourself, and so she did, but without the staple. Mal-Fiance being thus plannet-strucken, cursed old Saturn for being now so opposite to Venus, and in his pause of doubtful stay, he light on this subtle shift; presently he crept stealingly, under his bed, where finding a pair of bellowes, that carelessly had been thrown, and left there; he took them up, and softly rising by the bed's head, he blewe many sudden and short blasts upon him, and then falling down again, he set his back to the middle of the bed cords; where with all his force, he lifted the bed up as high as he could, and then would let it softly fall, and then raising it up again, would after let it fall suddenly; and then would he blast them with the bellowes again, which so amazed and frighted the poor Burgamaster, that he could not speak, but fearfully crept over the head into the bed, and laid such fast (though shaking) hands, on his wife, that he awaked her: who being held overhard, demanded what so appalled him: who answered in a low voice, that there was some tormenting spirit in the Chamber. Alas sweet (said she) thinking it to be but the disease of his jealousy, you do but dream: there is no such thing, give me leave to sleep, since you cannot keep me waking.  
The Daughter, whose lustful attendance, waked after venereal copulation, hearing this, and knowing the fallacy; could not but laugh at her Father's deceiving, and betraying fear, and in the pride of her naked strength, she prepared herself (being then most ready, when she was most unready) both to assay, and allay that troublesome spirit.  
Mal-Fiance having thus secured their stirring, by deluding their hearing, went boldly to the daughter's bed, (the wished port, where he desired to arrive) where finding no opposition, she still deeming him to be Haunce, he cast anchor, that his barque might ride at full Sea: At which time Mars and Venus being in conjunction, produced such strange effects, that the bed wherein they say, did both shake and rock; which her mother-in-law hearing, began to be half afraid, having heard nothing before: yet out of wont boldness (which was great in bodily adventures) she called to her daughter, and asked her how she did: I do (quoth she) well, and as well as any woman can do. It is the better for you replied the mother, but do you not hear, nor feel any thing, I hear nothing (said she) that is ill, and most assured I am, I feel no hurt. Well daughter said the Mother, bless you, and cross you well from all evil spirits. Nay mother (quoth she) my faith herein hath ever been so great, and so good, that I neither fear the devil, nor think any man is present that endangers me. All this while the poor Burgamaster lay over the head, in the sweat of his false fear, which did so tyrannize over his weakness, that he durst lie no longer, but hastily calling up his man, he bade him light a candle: For he would rise, and go fetch his ghostly Father, Friar Frederick, to come to bless his Chamber, and to sprinkle it all over with holy water. His wife could not divert him from it; and his daughter, and her unknown Paramour were ready to betray themselves with laughter; yet was Mal-Fiance glad to hide himself in the bed, whilst to prevent suspicion, the daughter rose, and took upon her to unlock the unlocked doors, by which time, the man came with a light, and getting his Master up, he holp to array him, and after went with a Lantern with him to seek the Friar. And no sooner were they gone, but in comes lascivious Haunce in the heat of his desire, like the Prince of darkness, clothed in a Bulls hide, with the horns on his head: (for it much behoved him to have horns, that must leave horns behind him) who finding the doors open, made no stay till he came to the daughter's bed, where hearing two breath, he softly shrunk back, supposing it was the Father's bed, and stumbling after by hap on the other bed, where the wife lay all alone, he holding down his head, softly said: fear not my Love, it is I, and so dismantling himself, laid him down by her, who conceiting that it was Mal-Fiance that had taken the benefit of her husbands going forth, resisted not, but entertained him with all the full favours, that wanton love could afford: (Thus do women's light thoughts, many times make their husbands to have heavy heads:) But in this amorous combat, the very bed did proclaim their forceable encounters, and the fall of bedstaffs well witnessed their fresh assaults; which the daughter hearing, deemed that her restless mother was tormented with some terror of fear; and therefore calling to her, she wished her to have a good heart, and not to yield to idle conceits, which but troubled the mind with deceiving imaginations. The mother perceiving that some thing was perceived, & that they were heard; took upon her to be affrighted, and said; Alas daughter, some thing, I know, hath been upon me, and if spirits have any substances, it is surely one; Cover yourself well, said the daughter: By this interchange of chat. Haunce knew that he had travailed in a by-path, which so distasted him, that his teeth gnashed together for anger, and Mal-Fiance lay laughing at the knowledge thereof, who remembering now, that Haunce would come in some fearful shape, to make way for his pleasure, he thought to work further on him, and to beat him with his own weapon; And to give life to his device, he stole up, and creeping along the bed's side wherein enchaffed Hovace did lie, he sought by feeling, and by feeling found, the hairy hide, which by handling thereof, he knew well was a garment of his Fathers, and as he threw it over him, with intent to frighten Haunce, he heard his Host and the Friar coming into the house; who came sooner than they were expected: Then was he forced to run behind the door, thinking by his hell like habit, to terrify them all; and so get unknown to his Chamber. Now Haunce perceiving light through the door (for as yet the Friar durst not come in, till he had said diverse Pater nosters, & besprinkled the door with his holy-water sprinkle) leapt hastily out of his disliked bed, and failing to find his devil's coat, he pulled the higher sheet out of the bed, and shrewding himself therein, went like a Ghost to the other side or the door, thinking likewise thereby, so suddenly to fright them, that undiscovered he might escape. But the tardy-taken-women, that now were more afraid of shame, than they were before of sin, were driven to such an exigent, that they knew not how to avoid, neither rebuke, nor reproach; Their scarlet blushes accused them, and the holy Church was at the door ready to condemn them. In this hell they lay, fearing to be seen, until the light which most they feared, freed them from those they most feared. For the new transformed devil, and the late metamorphosed ghost, suddenly seeing each other by the light of the Candle, upon the opening of the door, were so aghast at the fearful sight of either others terrifying, and unknown shapes, that they verily thought, that the devil, or some other ill spirit, were purposel come from hell to carry them away, for their sinful assuming their damned forms, to such wicked and forbidden ends. In this fear and fearful thought, they made such haste to run away the one from the other, that they both rushed at once so forceably through the door, that they bear the old Burgamaster down, and turned the poor Friar over & over; in which fall he pitifully broke his face on the housecill, and half drowned the Burgamaster with the Holy-water that he brought, and shed upon him. The careful women though they were thus cleared of disgrace, yet were they so daunted at the sight of these incarnal devils, that they woefully cried, and shrieked out; the servant with the Lantern, as one distracted, run out of doors; Mal-Fiance as fearfully fled to his Chamber; and heartless Haunce most amazedly run into the street after the servant; who looking for fear behind him, saw this spirit P. running (as he thought) after him; which made him cry out Help, help, a spirit, a ghost; a ghost, a spirit.  
The Watchmen coming by, and hearing him, thought the man was stark mad; but looking a side, they saw this affrighted, frightening ghost coming towards them, which put them all into such amazed fear, that they threw down their weapons, and run away. The coast being thus cleared, unhappy Haunce got into his Father house. But now the next neighbours that had heard the wretched woman's shrieking cries, were risen, and having gotten lights, speedily came to see, and know the cause of their out-cries, And finding the Master of the house, and the Friar (whom fear had entranced) half dead on the floor, and the Friar all bloodied by his fall, they supposing, that they were slain, instantly cried out Murder, murder: The dismayed women (that all this while lay over their heads, in the bath of their sweeting fear, doing penance for their stolen pleasures) having their fear both renewed, and redoubled by these their cries; cried out as fast, the devil, the devil; at the hearing whereof, all the neighbours run out of the house again, and Mal-Fiance grew upon this dreadful alarm, so fearfully timorous, that he durst not move, though he were more then moved. In this agony of terror, did they all lie till break of day, when light (the comfort of dark dismay) emboldened the chief Officer (who of purpose was sent for) to enter into this house of horror, where raising them from that place of Purgatory; they found upon examination, that the devil had been there, and was the cause of all their disturbances. But Mal-Fiance who now had made peace with his distracted thoughts; not only found his own error, but easily apprehended the shift and enforced subtlety of the other. For remembering that he had disfurnished Haunce of his black Mantle, and so prevented him of his infernal shape; he conceited, that he had no other means to free himself, then by taking one of the sheets, and so by appearing like a ghost to make way for himself. In the belief of this conceit, he vowed that Haunce should well pay both for terrifying him, and for his planting in another's Vineyard. And to this end, he seeking found him, and told him, that he had a very good Bull hide to sell him. Haunce knowing well where he lay, was much astonished thereat, and thanking him, said, He had no need of any. Then (quoth Mal-Fiance) shall my Host have it, to make him a nightgown; but you shall pay for the horns, though you were so liberal as freely to give them. For in brief Mr. Tanner, the abuse that you have offered mine Host, and the scandal that you have raised on his house, is so injuriously great, and so shamefully injurious, that unless you will give me ten pounds, I will uncase the Devil, and both reveal his adulterous dealing, and tell of your ghostly escape. Haunce seeing he was discovered, bought his concealment with his coin; which made Mal-Fiance so wanton, that being so well silver-shod for travail, he discharged all his debts, and in the innocency of his thoughts, not dreaming after any danger, he made more haste, then good speed to Viennois. And no sooner was he come, and known to be in Vienna, but that the Lord Vray Esperance scent for him, and demanded where his Sovereign Lord the Dauphin was; who being unable to answer thereunto, was presently deemed, either to have murdered him, or to have betrayed him to his enemies: For it is a rule by observation true; that they that fear not to be thought faulty, will neither be afraid to commit the fault, nor ashamed to be seen after the fact. His leaving (howsoever) of his Liege Lord, was held worthy ofdeath. And therefore was he sent bound hand and foot to prison, till rigour of justice should by speedy sentence award him condign punishment.  
But the bruit hereof, begat such tumultuous uproars, and brought forth such mischievous factions, both in Court and City, that hardly could the tempest be allayed without the utter subversion of the state. For how should the low shurbs stands in rebellion, when the high Cedar was thought to be blown down by treason? In this combustion, some stood for the indubitate heir the Princess Vienna, whose liberty they proudly required, amongst whom, Sir jaques; and La-nova were most forward. Some for the malicious and proud Dalphinis, whose Regency many affected, But all malcontents, rupugnant humorists, disordered men, decayed persons, and servile peasants (that thrive best in mutation of States, and live by others falling, as Swine do by the dropping of Acorns) flocked about Monsieur Malign, the reputed bastard of the Dauphin, who ambitiously would needs (according to the wicked disposition of illegitimates) deprive others by ruin and rapine of their rights, and appropriate to himself the Crown. The fired fashions began to break forth into flaming seditious; and masked Rebellion waited but on time and advantage, to use open force against each other: The Commonweal did well to see her destruction in this triumviry; Amongst these briers and brambles, that sought to overtop the stately Oak; awful justice had no powerful place: Law was no force, and authority lost all command. For where alteration threatens war, there the sword maketh all things lawful.  
But when the Lord Vray Esperance, who was an Anthony in clemency, a Traian in bounty, and another Augustus in wisdom, beloved of most, and respected of all; saw this tripartite, and diflentious division growing to such monstrous heads: and hearing that many of the giddy headed multitude were already assembled together in the Market place, in a most confused manner, according to the mutinous natures of the mutable Commons, fearing their aptnest to innovation, and the sad effects of civil broils, or some sudden overture; leaving (because wanting) all time of further consideration, even in the assurance of his virtue, and strength of his zeal to his Country, he suddenly went to the Market place, where all men (notwithstanding their distemperarures) gave way to his merit, and in love followed after him; so powerful was he in popular affection, which he perceiving, stayed; and turning himself towards them, with tears in his eyes, and his Hat in his hands, more like an humble Suppliant, than a regal Ruler, he made a sign for audience; which granted, he mildly after some few sighs, said.  
What moves my fast friends, loving favourites, and more than dear Countrymen, to this threatening mutiny? What disturbs your quiet peace, or what seek you by the hurtful Arms? Do you want a Prince? Why the Dauphin, your liege Lord (for aught that any knows) liveth; and the Princess his apparent heir is not dead. Doth any usurp your rights, or oppress you with wrongs? Why justice shall give to every one his own, and I am here ready to shed my blood in your behalves. Or doth the bare suppose of your Sovereign's death, thus untimely move you to create, and invest a new, because Mal-Fiance is returned without his Lord? A project trust me, that will being forth some notable deceitful design. If needs he must be dead, because none can hear tell that he is alive; Why then should he not be as well living, because here no one knows that he is dead? But admit that our sins have (which God forbid) deprived us of him, doth it follow, that the ambitious Daulphinis, or that degenerate Bastard Malign, should succeed him? What though Vienna be a prisoner to her Father's will, and my faith must keep her still a thrall to his severity? yet the Father dying, the daughter's bonds are broken, I discharged, and you tied, to enthronize her for your lawful Princess.  
Why then should there be any such disparity of minds, or diversity of affections amongst you, since you are all sudiects born to one end, and Viennonians sworn to one right? What shall become of this Principality, when those that should unite themselves to maintain the Weal-public; do thus divide themselves, to overthrow the public weal? Know you not, that by thus banding yourselves, you do altogether abandon yourselves?  
Will not your insulting, and enchroaching neighbours (the proud Savonians) our inveterate and irreconciliable enemies, take advantage of your weakening of your own strengths, enter forceably upon your rights, dispossess you of your habitations, and make you aliens to your inheritances? Yes, yes, be you assured, that hatred amongst friends, giveth ever succour to Strangers: and that civil wars within you, will bring foreign wars upon you. Look on the Daulphinis, of whom I am loath to speak ill, yet in this, I know not how to speak well. Doth not her unwasted corruption and pride show, that she loves a Palace better than her Paradise? that thinks by shameful rebellion, to make herself a sinful Queen?  
Know you not, that they that are so greedy, so unlawfully to get; will be ever as ready to do wrong? What colour of claim can she have, that is neither royalised by propagation, nor extract from Princely or Noble blood? She had no authority given her in his highness' rule; nor hath she any left her at his departure. It is, I see, only her pride, that can suffer no equal, and Maligns ambition, that can brook no Superior: two firebrands, that burned up Rome's most glorious Monarchy. O let them both then fall in their pride, that seek so unjustly to fly before they have wings; and wash not your eyes, and hands, like Envy, in one another's fall. In persisting to maintain evil, Malign doth condemn himself; otherwise he would not seek to obtain that with blood and shame; which he can neither get, nor keep, without sin and death, In all the Scriptures there was but one sole Bastard (only jephiha) that did come to any good; and yet he had the mark of the curse: for his all only daughter was most sorrowfully sacrificed for her great Father's offence; And this was but to show, that there is no perpetuity, nor long prosperity, in hateful and condemned bastardy. And will you then make the corrupt and cursed seed, and excrement of sin, your unlawful Prince? that by all divine, nature, and national laws, hath no inheritance on earth; and whom the jews counted as no part of their congregation.  
If the Father be an Adulterer, and the Mother a Fornicator, the Son must in reason be a bad liver, and a wicked governor. For he that is borne in double sin, must of likely hood in nature, be both subject to many faults, and guilty of many offences. And how can polluted hands make foul vessels clean? or how can he that is but the son of the people, be the son of the Dauphin? The Mother's acknowledgement, and protestation, is no proof; that ever fathers them on those that can best maintain them. She cannot be true to one, that is untrue to herself: Corruption will still break out there, where it is once festered, How then can you affect the son of shame, or without shame, yield yourselves subject to the Son of a strumpet? If his desire be beyond his merit and reach, let him fall beside his hopes, and receive just guerdon for his deserts. As for the virtuous Princess, whose right I reverence and whose worth I admire. Let her yet remain (though with better respect) where she is. For it is not good over-suddainely to open a wound, that hath long been closed up. The greatest right, may do the most wrong, and the omission of a good action, is no sin; when it cannot be done without committing of sin. I have sworn to her Father, and would be found faithful to my Lord; I affect not government: For in this, I am but like the Sun that carries his Lantern for others, and not for himself. It is better to be doubtful then over-credulous; and the uncertainty of his death, is no warrant for my discharge, nor your disobedience. There is time for all things, and the Moon that is not yet risen, may rise, & shine in full glory, though now she be eclipsed. What more would you have, or what further (O you fond Viennonians) do you endeavour to affect? Will you turn Traitors to your Lord, rip up your own bowels, make your wife's widows, and your children fatherless, and helpless? Will you put fire to your own houses, possess your foes with your wives, and wealths: see your daughters deflowered, and make an utter devastation of your Country?  
Alas, I see your wilfulness betrays your wits, & draws on your overthrows into your enemy's triumphs; and grief makes me to shed tears of blood for your own purchased destructions. Let me at last, O let me in love, and tender care of your welfares, dehort you from wounding of yourselves, and leave these ill presaging jars amongst you; and like birds of one flock, fly together; Maintain your sacred oaths, for the preservation of your Sovereign's right, till better assurance acquit you from your obliged faiths. To hasten the knowledge whereof, I will wing many Messengers with speed, to inquire, and learn what is become of our Sovereign Lord, with that the tears did trickle down his face, which struck such a compassionate regard in all their hearts, that being before made sensitive of their errors, and now fully satisfied, and reclaimed by his tongue of persuasion; they joyfully threw up their Hats, and some lifting him up, cried, God save the Dauphin, and the Lord Vray Esperance, under whose government we will only live. Thus did his pleasing words, powerful authority, mild behaviour, refined and probable seasons, and subtilised distinction, alloy the force of the approaching storm, and gave such contentment to all, that every one departing in love, brought home peace to their neighbours.  
Thus did this noble Governor (like a good and a skilful Musicioner) put all this jarring discord, in a good, and true time; which so crossed the hateful hopes of malicious Malign, that failing of native strength, and rebellious forces, to dignify his indignities; he suddenly fled unto the Savoy Duke, to require foreign aid, to royalize his proud baseness. Such was his aspiring wrath, that it had no mean, and such his Treason, that it had no end. Fear made him now doubt the rigour of law, that before would have been subject to no law: and therefore did he in such unstable waters, and threatening winds, seek for more powerful ears; which the subtle Duke well perceiving, thought to feed on him, as Pharaohs lean Kine did on the fat:  
But before he went, he advised thereof with his politic and sworn considerate friend, Monsieur Meschant, whose false semblable minds, ever made such a full connexion of wills betwixt them, as what the one perniciously contrived, the other most traitorously put in practice. And therefore Meschant seeing him already over the shoes in danger, persuaded him to wade up to the chin: For, said he, There can never be any peril in the adventure, where the Ford promiseth so good a passage. Danger now only dwells at home, and the Savoy Duke may both fortify your hope, and raise your fortunes. Offer him but interest in the Dauphin, & you shall find that his avarice & pride will in that hope, greedily work on our broken and disturbed state. So then happily with speed, and most powerfully and successively; may you return; and as prevailent may your success be, as your going is most pertinent. And therewithal, he took a sheet of clean paper, and laying both sides strait together, he cut diverse rows through them both; and after cutting them a sunder, he kept the one half himself, and gave the other, saying:  
By this, and through this, shall you (without either danger to me, or perceivance of any other) still know what is here done, and what I would have you further to do. For though I writ my Letters directly, and most distastefully against your Apostasy, and combination with the publipue foe, and advice you to betray that noble Duke, (which for my safety I must still do, lest in the portage, or otherwise, my Letters should miscarry) yet shall you easily at all times unmask my intended intelligence, and find out both my fallacy, and true instructions: if you but take this your cut pattern, and lay it one my Letter, where you shall plainly, and formally, read through the same, no more, than what I purposely in truth do write unto you, & would willingly enfeoff you with. In like manner (as I will teach you) may you safely by the same illusion, certify me, of all your projects and designs.  
Malign thanked him, prayed his remembrance thereof, and so bade him farewell. For fear sent him post away, and hope gave him such speed, as in short time he came to the Duke's Court, where after he had most respectively saluted him, he related, how that the Dauphin his father was dead, and that the Lord Vray Esperance affecting government, most ambitiously sought to retain his usurped rule. That the Princess Vienna was in prison unregarded of all; and that he had himself, many strong and assured favourites, that would stand for his fortune. In furtherance whereof, he was come to pray his assistance, and for guerdon thereof, he would interest him in that half of Dauphin, that lay next unto him.  
Thus did he seek his own ruin with great labour, and buy repentance with bloody cost. Thus did he make himself a Bridge for the encroaching Duke to enter upon his Country: And this gap did he open, that the Savonian forces might like an inundation submerge, and overwhelm both himself, and the whole body of the State. For the Duke who ever waited on opportunity, and still watched how the Market went, finding now the Mine discovered; he thought good to make profit thereof, and to take the benefit of the Tide, while the flood served. And therefore he embraced the person, for the occasion; and promising him help (but with Judas subtlety to make himself rich) he leavyed Forty thousand men well appointed, with whom, with all affected expedition, he instantly in person, went to fish in Viennois troubled water, without making any Conscience of thrusting his Sickle into another's Harvest. The opinion of possibility so redoubled his unbounded desires, that he thought that time too long, that he spent in going: But it had been better for him, with the Tortoise, to have kept his head within his own shell, then by seeking so abroad, to raise his fortunes out of another's ruins.  
For that careful Shepherd (the ever watchful Governor) being now summoned by wasteful War, to defend both his Flock, and his Fold, stood not now like a doubtful Chirurgeon, to consult of the ripeness of the sore; but like an expert Captain (that at the first, would prevent fury by force) he suddenly raised 30000. men, whom in pride of his aged age, he himself led into Dauphin, to encounter with the injurious and intruding Duke.  
Now Mescant hearing that the Duke and Malign, were entered into Dauphin, and seeing the present preparation, and hasty march, that the governor now made against them; He instantly writ unto Malign thereof, and thus deceitfully disguised his subtle intelligences.  
MY Lord, your speed to ruin I applaud, and I joy in your approaching fall; which I wish, if you seek to waste your Native, and distressed Country with Foreign strength. The terror of war, you, nor your Savonians forces hath yet known. But be you assured, that GOD will confound those, that strive to dispossess others of their rights. War never yet paid the hearts of the true and valiant Viennonians: Our Governor is wise, powerful, and practive in Martial discipline; His Allies great, his Adheares many, and his followers nothing fearful of the event; and though his Army cannot make 30000. strong, yet hath he levied many more Troops, which now are marching on a pace to his aid. Betray that hateful Duke, and you shall find many that yet are your harmless enemies, and some that will in that merit procure your pardon. Trust not a Foreign Conqueror; For he will be absolute, and remove you, and your assured friends. Lose no occasion, nor time in giving battle, wherein you may best work their overthrow, and redeem your lost Honour. Be secret in your intended Stratagems, lest you find more hazard, & resistance, by greater and more dangerous opposition. If you will thus repair your fortunes, send me the like notice thereof, and you shall be secured by our supplies. Bend your forces chiefly against the General. For dead men bite not. It matters not how, so it be well done, Take but away the Chieftain, and the Army will scatter. For in his fall, the field is lost, and the honour yours, Farewell.  
MESCHANT.  
Thus in a fair Cup of gold did this pestiferous Meschant utter his hidden poison; And under the apparent show of honest loyalty, did he give both treacherous intelligence, and dangerous instructions to the hostile Enemy. For Malign upon the receit of this Letter, laid his pattern thereon, and so read his subtle & cloaked advertisements through the same, as by laying down, and covering this his Letter, with this exampled pattern, you may plainly perceive.  
By this time had the Dauphin, and Sir Sirap (after tedious travail) recovered Marcelles in Province, through which they passed unknown into Dauphin; where the Dauphin finding his Country, in his declining days, covered over with Camps, Carriages, barbed Horses, and armed Soldiers; he amazedly asked, and ask learned, the unexpected cause thereof; which made him bewail his sinister fortunes, and envy no little against that impious abject, his accursed supposed son. Grief now made him weep at his Country's calamity, and fear made him doubt his own deprivation. The Harvest of his sins, yielded him now more increase of woes; then the lusts of his youth afforded him pleasures. But how should (said the sorrowful Dauphin) he that is begotten in my full sin, and borne in his own shame; live without doing villainy, or dye without making mischief? If his being be from me, why then should he seek to take from me my being? And if he be none of mine, what then hath he to do with it, which is mine? but he is not mine, but the son of iniquity, and scorn of nature; and therefore knows neither his shameless self, nor his sinful father. I nourished him (as a Snake) in the bosom of my love, and now he would sting me to death, in the poison of his hate. O how just are the judgements of God, that pays our amiss, in the amiss of our offences, and makes our wicked pleasures our just punishments.  
In this bemoaning fury, did he call for vengeance to be poured down on Malign; which Sirap seeing, could not but grieve at his sad lamentations, though otherwise he rejoiced, that occasion presented unto him both a means to show there his prowess; and a way to make his Country indebted to his valour. For as a stranger he knew he should win honour, and after gain (being made known) more respect. The wrath of War he did not fear, nor made he any doubt of his Country's safety. And therefore he cheerfully commanded Boufoy to comfort the distressed Dauphin, and to assure him, that the God of the Viennonians had brought him thither, in justice, both to punish the treachery of his degenerate son; and also to correct the insulting pride of the intruding Duke; in both whose ambitious bloods, he vowed to bathe his revengeful Sword, and by force of the Viennonian forces, to overthrow all the Savonians. Only entreat him to take up the heat of his indignation in the embers, and to keep himself unknown that thereby he might both receive a true trial of his Subjects forces, and fidelities; and the easier escape, and support himself, after, with foreign supplies, if the Viennonians should unhappily be vanquished. As for himself, he would (when they were hottest in battle) suddenly thrust himself amongst them, where he would write such Tragedies in his enemy's blood, that weeping repentance should teach them, what it is, to invade another's right, and to displant the true Vine. His Highness and Boufoy, I would have them, like two peaceable Pilgrims, to stand safely aloof, and to view the hazard of the game, till the last chance be cast, and then secretly to convey themselves to some cave in the near adjoining Wood, whether in the dark of night I will undiscryed repair, and further consult what after is to be done. To this the animated Dauphin subscribed. For in his virtuous valour, and practive knowledge, did he build his new raised hope; and on his unresistable force, & most fortunate achievements, did his comfort depend.  
Now Sirap having ever about him his never failing Scimitar, wherewith he vanquished Turbulent the fierce, and being furnished with the Shield, & Armour, that he forceably took from the Captain of the Pirates in the Afric Seas; he made all things in readiness, and instantly sent Bonfoy to the next Town with his Shield, to cause a Painter to draw omit a disturbed waved Sea and in the midst thereof a crowned Dauphin, driving other Fishes before him, and striking many under the waves with his tail, with this Impress under. Crowned to Conquer.  
Thus did the Daulphins' unknown Knight, in honour of the Dauphin, make himself the Knight of the Dauphin. But by this time the two Armies marching both on, affronted each other in sight, which made the Savoy Duke, to make a stand, and to set his men in good array of Battle, which he divided in two parts. The first were his troops of Horse, which he assigned to be conducted by the Bastard Malign. The other, consisting of Foot, he led himself. In this equipage he soberly marched, till he came to a spacious Plain, near to Andre, where he preparedly stayed the coming on of the Viennonians, who being well Marshaled in one mean Battle, Cressat-wise, with two wings of Horse on either side, came on apace, by the Command of their good General, the L. Vray Esperance; unto whom, honour gave spurs; his place, faithfulness; and the love of his Country courage.  
Malign heartened on the Duke with the false assurance of the Viennoians revolt, and the hope to incorporate that Principality to his own, haled him on the more to that bloody bargain. For the charge being given, Desire, and Revenge, encountered each other with such fury, that the Battle was long in suspense. Victory inclining to neither side, till at last, the Troop of the Savonian Horses disranked both the Wings of the Viennoians, and broke in upon the squadron of the Foot, with such violence, that they began to stagger, and give back. When the all-valarous, and invincible Sirap, the Knight of the Dauphin, came fortunatly in, who finding where danger dwelled most, there he opposed himself, and like to a sudden Tempest, bore down all before him. His desire to approve himself in his Country's defence, and his implaceable wrath against those, that sought to defeat Vienna of her right, and to defraud him of the comfort of his hope, made his blows fall like thunder, and his sword to cut like the Executioners Axe. None could stand before him, nor durst there any come near him; which so encouraged the disheartened remainder of the Viennonian Cavalirie, that they ranked themselves again, and came up to second him. This fresh, and new assault, disordered, and dismayed the Savonian Troops, who now fought fearfully, and confusedly; which Malign perceiving, purposely, and fatally brought up all his Forces, and begirt him round, thinking so to end the Battle, by making an end of him, that both had ended so many of their lives, & only maintained the Battle. In this danger, did the undaunted Knight of the Dauphin fight so long, that his Horse was slain under him, which he with great agility well and quickly avoided, and being on foot, perceived his other self, his entire dear friend La-nova (whom he knew by his coat Armour) to lie in the dust. This sight was such an Alarm to waken Revenge, that he grew now more furiously wrathful, and more irefully impatient then before; and being desirous to recover his body, he desperately strid over him, and like valiant Hector amidst the begirting Myrmidons, he stood to withstand all assailers. La-nova being thus freed from the smothering feet of his Enemies, having had time of breathing, came to himself (for he was not mortally wounded) and began to stir, which being found, and perceived by the Knight of the Dauphin, (maugre all the force of his swarming and pressing foes) he took him up, and bore him to the Lord Vray Esperance, unto whom, kissing him oft, in manifestation of his love, he delivered him, with many speaking signs, that he should be sent safely away. The General who had seen with the eyes of admiration, the incomprehensible force, and unvaluable valour of this unknown Knight, respectively received him, and accordingly sent him to the next Town, and then having already brought up his strength of Foot, of purpose to succour the Dauphin Knight, he followed him in his bloody passage, with intent to horse him again, lest he should miscarry in that peril: In this desire, he came on so furiously fast, that the Savoy Duke seeing the rage of this tempestuous flood, to overbeare Maligns Forces, advanced his main Battle and like a terrible storm, fell upon the Viennonians. But this lightning lasted not long, for the Knight of the Dauphin perceiving that now the dice was cast, and that they both were to abide their last chance, summoned all his strength together, and in the vigour of his displeased courage, meeting with Malign, he smote him so on his Burganet, that he felled him, sore wounded to the earth, where being no respite for rescue, he was smothered, and trodden to death.  
Thus died the spawn of sin, in sinful shame,  
Ill was he got, lewd his life, bad his name.  
Now notwithstanding, the withstanding Savonians, the Knight of the Dauphin took Maligns Horse, and in despite of all interruption, he lightly mounted on him, and with his confounding sword, he made such a slaughter, that he found little resistance. This remarkable act, gave not only fresh hope, but new life to Esperance, who wondered not so much, at who he was, as at what he did; and yet he thought he must be more than a man, that did more than a man could do. But the doubtful Dauphin standing all this while aloof, joyfully beholding the heroical deeds, of his second Saviour, said unto Boufoy, that Siraps valour was beyond all apprehension, his courage above conceit, his puissance more than humane, and his deeds surmounting all opinion.  
By him, said he, I have my second being; and by him I see, I shall still be a Prince; O would, and as he would have proceeded further, he made a stay to behold the distempered Duke, who seeing his men discomforted and slain, most by this alone Knight, came in with a troop of reserve; whom he had commanded, to unite all their forces together, and bend themselves wholly for the taking, or killing of this unknown Hercules, the most redoubted Knight of the Dauphin; but costly experience made them loath to come so near him, as to hurt him, least breaking the rule of pity, they should be guilty of their own deaths. Yet in some presumption, both of their number, and Armour; they faintly assaulted him to their repenting detrements. In this fresh conflict, the Knight of the Daulphins' Beaver was broken; and fell down, which much more advantaged then endamaged, or endangered him. For the Enemies seeing his black hue, and his wrathful eyes (being then kindled a new with anger) shining like fire, were suddenly paid with such dread, and fearful amazement, that (holding him rather an infernal spirit, than a mortal man) they began to recoil, and to fly from him like a great Covey of frighted Partridges, from the first pursuit of a fierce Falcon; whereupon he flourished his Conquering sword, and cried out in Greek, Victory, Victory, and then followed them with such raging fury, that he hewed out his way in blood, till he encountered that proud innading Duke, whom he knew by his rich Armour, and thinking now to make an end of both him and the Battle at once, he lifted up his controlling and quelling arm, and so enragedly smote him on the side of his helmet, that neither the steel, nor the temper, could secure him from that fatal and inevitable blow; but as all men fall that seeks to build up their fortunes upon others ruins; so fell he now (in the height of his hope) breathless to the ground. Then began the Savonians to fly on all hands, and light unharnessed legs were better than well approved arms. Most of them were slain, few escaped, the rest were taken prisoners.  
Night drawing on, the General, the Lord Vray Esperance commanded to sound the Retreat. But the Knight of the Dauphin purposely pursued the Chase, that in the darkness of night he might the better convey himself away, and undiscovered go (as he did) to the Wood, where the glad Dauphin joyfully attended him: And no sooner did he see him, but that with tears of joy, that in triumph, trickled down his cheeks, he hasted to embrace him, and impalling him within the circuit of his arms, he held him fast, his tongue failing to be messenger of his thankful heart. For in this passion,  
Love clipped him fast, true Comfort held him long;  
joy could not speak, for Wonder had no tongue.  
But after his full heart had a little enjoyed itself, and somewhat digested his surfeit of joy. Then, then, his tongue was enabled to applaud his victory; and he both crowned his prowess with loud resounding praises, and gave him more than many thanks for his most glorious and happy labours; And now with more regard, did he not only industriate himself, to do him all the kind offices of love, but also humbly offered to unarm him, which in no wise Sirap would permit, but wearied with that day's travail, he betook himself to his rest; where his restless thoughts began a new War betwixt his desire, and determination: fain would he have seen her, whom he loved more than his life, and yet to deliberate well on things profitable, he held to be a most provident delay, At last he resolved to keep himself, and them unknown for some few days, that the Country might be settled in peace, and he see what course would be held both for Vienna, and for the government. In the interim he might the better conclude with himself, for his own affairs. O noble, noble Paris, more noble than those, that are ennobled with flattering and fading titles. How loving art thou true? How truly wise, and virtuous; that not only canst without pride conquer thy foes; but also without folly (beyond nature) command to own and dearest affections. If that wanton Trojan had had the like sympathy of mind, and the same stable sincerity of heart, as he had the likeness, and unity of thy name; Troy had been unconquered, and he had lived longer and in greater glory. But let us return to the Lord Vray Esperance, who after the overthrow and ejectment of the Savomans', had posting news brought him, that the masicious and imperious Daulphinis, upon notice of the victory, fell suddenly dead. She could live no longer, that had no hope to rule any longer: He pride and desire of Sovereignty, could neither brook subjection, nor endure controlment; Besides the guilt of her own evil, proclaimed her death; and the fear of losing her life, was the loss of her life. Such is the nature of greatness, that but crossed in their ambitious courses, they shrink under the weight of their own burdenous pride. But her remove, moved not so much the good Governor, as the miss of their glorious preserver, that invincible and all admirable Knight of the Dauphin, that to their amazement, had so oft relieved their weakened forces, rescued their fainting endangered friends, repulsed their oppressing Enemies, slain most of their best Commanders, daunted the whole Army, & at two blows, overthrown and killed the malignant Malign, and the proud ambitious Duke, that potent General: Then he caused inquisition to be made throughout all his territories after him, and rich rewards promised to him that could, or should give knowledge of him: but no one could show what he was, nor where he was: only some declared, that his Beaver being broken in Battle, they saw his face as black as darkness, and his eyes as bright as fire; which made the Governor doubtful, whether he were a man, that did more than many men; or no man that could not be subdued by an host of men; or that the all-mercifull God in favour of their distressed right, had sent some of his correcting Ministers, to chasten, and pour vengeance on the hateful heads of their unjust foes. But the War being thus ended, Peace called a counsel for the further establishing of tranquillity; And the consideration of these bloody jars, condemned poor Mal-Fiance to dye; not only for leaving his Lord, and being unable to give account of his Sovereign's life; but also for being the first cause of perturbation in the State, and after of foreign invasion. The loss of so many of their lives, made them all thirst after his death; To hasten which, they brought him the next day to the place of execution, where happily the Dauphin, and Sirap, with his man Boufoy, came by all in Pilgrim's gowns, as they were (by agreement) going to the City; who seeing and understanding the cause of that Assembly, withdrew themselves, and upon short consultation, they sent Boufoy to the Governor (who needs would be there to hear his latest Confession) that he might learn somewhat concerning his beloved lord) Of him did Boufoy, knowing now the cause) in the name of his Master, the Knight of the Dauphin, require that Mal-Fiance should be delivered unto him; which granted, he would undertake to bring them to the Dauphin. In assurance whereof, he (unfolding his Gown) tendered the honour of his Master's shield, as a pledge for his performance; which when the Lord Vray Esperance saw, he knew it by the devise thereon, to be the same, that the Knight of the Dauphin carried in Battle, and therefore he joyfully took it, and kissing it reverently, said; That that remarkable badge of his all-vertuous, and most glorious worth, (besides the glad tidings he delivered of their gracious Lord) was more than sufficient, to redeem a world of lives; And therefore presenting Mal-Fiance unto him, he prayed that they might both see the Dauphin, and the Dauphin Knight, whom next to the Dauphin; both he, and all the Viennonians, did, and would ever honour, as their sole and only preserving Patron; And then taking his Chain from about his neck, he gave it him, saying: Let this be a witness of my gratefulness, and truly tell thee, with that true joy I entertain thy welcome tidings. Boufoy humbly thanked his honour, and requested him, that he would be pleased to see how he bestowed Mal-Fiance, whom he brought unto the other two Pilgrims, that were walking a little aside from them. But when the Dauphin had discovered himself unto him, Mal-Fiance fell down at his feet for mercy, and rising, threw up his Hat into the air, and cried aloud, the Dauphin, the Dauphin, God save my Lord the DAUPHIN.  
This unexpected, and most fortunate accident, made all the company at the hearing thereof, to shout for joy: And the good Vray Esperance hastily lighting from his Horse, fell upon his knee, and kissing his hand, said; Long may my Liege Lord the Dauphin live. Whereat the Dauphin raising him, embraced him, and told him, that as his loyalty was crowned with renown, so would he add honour, and reward to his virtues. But forget not, said he, my Lord, to welcome this noble and heroical Moor, the thrice worthy Knight of the Dauphin, that both hath preserved me from death and thraldom, and delivered you, & my Country from our oppressing foes. O with what joy, and astonishment, did then this loyal rejoicing Lord hasten to kneel unto him: For though he held him less than a God, yet he thought he could not be, but more than a man: But Sirap staying him, greeted him with all the demonstrations of love, and reverend respect. This done, they mounted both the Dauphin, and this magnificent Moor, who needs would both ride barefaced in their Pilgrim Gowns through the City; Mal-Fiance waited on the Daulphins' stirope and Boufoy manly carried his Master's Shield before him, and after went the Lord Vray Esperance, with all the rest of their retinue.  
Now their approach was no sooner known in Vienna, but that they knew their welcomes by their rejoicing bells stately boone-fires, and triumphing hearts.  
Hardly could they pass for press of people, still they came running to see them, especially the Knight of the Dauphin, whom they admired for his fame, honoured for his great achievements, and loved for their protection. Sirap seemed much to admire the French, whom the French themselves did more than admire. But in viewing the whole Troop, his observing eye, light by chance on his fast friend La-nova, at which sight, he sighed, yet thought himself happy in the sight. Thus road they on triumphant in themselves, and honoured of all. At length they came to the Palace gate, where dismounting themselves, the Dauphin now happy in being the Dauphin, could not but shed swelling tears, in tender remembrance of his too well beloved Wife.  
But as the General of an Army, buries all the remembrance of his lost friend, in the pride and triumph of his Conquest: so did the Daulphins' freedom from many perils, and the artainement to his near lost principality, extinguish all sorrow and memory of the dead Daulphinis. So that wiping his eyes, he turned himself towards Sirap, and embracing him, said; Most worthy Knight, and my dearest friend, welcome to my Court to myself, and all that is mine: This Palace, my Country, and I, are all at your dispose; For so in my particular obligation, and by your merritorious and pleading deserts, am I bound unto you: And longer may not I enjoy what I now possess, than you shall find my promises full laden with rich performance. And be further assured, that as I only live through your love, and reign altogether by your valour, so will I ever owe you fealty for my life, and still do you homage for my Crown. Sirap understanding thus much by Boufoy, returned him humble thanks for his so grateful and high esteem, both of himself, and his poor endeavours; with protestation that he neither wished, nor expected so great, and undeseruing guerdons; but still held himself most indebted unto his own desires, to do him all further possible service.  
This interchange of kindnesses, gave contentment to them both, and was most pleasing to the Dauphin, who yet fed so on his fresh feeling happiness, that he gave in charge that all his Subjects should honour Sirap, as himself, and hold his will, as the will of their Lord; For so (he said) is your Lords will, that next to the Lord of hosts, holds his life, and living of him. Then told he them, how and with what hazard of his life, he had redeemed him, from most base bondage, and cruel death; How he had left many heathen honours, to honour him, then greatly dishonoured; and how he had protected him at Sea from danger of Pirates: and lastly, established him in his regalty, in despite of his foes. And therefore many, and sundry were the Triumphs that now were ordained for him; but more than many, were the several thoughts that afflicted his doubtful mind: Vienna he thought had cause to condemn him since affection ever thinks all times of stay too long, that hangs on desert: La-nova he knew would rebuke him for violating the sacred laws of friendship in his concealment: And his reverend Father might well question his breach of love and duty, that so refused to show himself a son. One while was he ready to embrace La-nova; another time to run to Vienna; and by and by he was ready pressed to fall on his knees to Sir Jaques. Now did he pity distressed Vienna (who in all these alterations, was neither moved nor removed) Then did he fear her liberty, since her Father had no feeling of her calamity. Thus dubiously perplexed in mind he sadly sat, unregarding regarding, the continuing and maintained justes; until the Dauphin judging of his stormy thoughts, by his clouded countenance, thus awaked him by his Interpreter.  
What think'st, said he, my best worthy friend of our French Knights? and how stands our Court sports with your liking? Sirap, whose Martial mind, was now mollified with milder, and calmer thoughts by his man, thus answered, As Knights of good regard, I regard your Knights; and as noble befiting sports, I commend your heroical pastimes. All doth well, and well doth it stand with your Highness, that hath Knights, that can do so well. But the justes being ended, the Dauphin that had read his discontentment in the deep characters of his face (for the countenance oft shows the affects and passions of the heart) took him by the hand, and privately led him into a fair tapistred gallery, hanged with most artificial pictures of greatest monarchs, where he thus again assaved to find the cause of his disturbance. Let not (said he) any doubt dismay mylives preserver, nor let any remembrance of your last, and lost honours, work in you any repenting humour; since Viennaes' Dauphin is both willing, and ready, both to accomplish your demand, and to honour you with all dignities. What pleaseth Sirap, pleaseth the Dauphin, and nothing shall content the Dauphin, but what shall well like Sirap. Then ask my Lord, and be Lord of your ask. Sirap thus kindly entreated, and encouraged, lowly humbled himself, and by Boufoy, thus replied.  
Know most renowned, and thrice worthy Prince, that doubtful suspicion harbours not in noble hearts; Nor think I once of honour's change. Your covenanted promise exiles that doubt, and the effect of my request, is the honour that best will please my mind. Then let me show, and showing crave, both what troubleth your servant, and what he now (in all humility) demands for his conditioned gift. Not affecting honours, the world's fading glory; nor coveting riches, man's pleasing evil; but seeking contentment in love's felicity. I ask, claim, and require, your daughter my Lord, for my wife, and a wife for my reward. The renown of her attractive virtues, and the virtue of her moving perfections, hath by report so captivated my freest thoughts since my coming to Viennois, that wondering at her Fame, I am wounded with Fancy; and my desire is to see and applaud her excellencies. Then let it not seem strange unto you, that unseen perfections have thus wrought unknown passions, since the ear is as well subject to conceit, as the eye is pliant to affection. The Dauphin, whose unnatural & impenetrable heart felt no longer remorse of her endured misery, then whilst he was himself in misery; and who was no sooner free, but that he freed his remorced thoughts, from all thought of remorse; In so much, that looking neither after her imprisonment, nor his own posterity, he in his ever over awfulness showed himselse now rather an unrelenting Tyrant, than a chastising Father. But now thus utged by Sirap (whose warranted demand, and high deserts, might well challenge an absolute grant) he herein (still discontented) thus contented Sirap.  
Nothing I see (right noble, valiant, and most merritorious Moor) seemeth worse to love, then to prefer●e any thing before itself; For clothe Desire in plates of burnished gold, and Desire will shiver all for cold; and fill affections purse with treasure, and fancy wanting contentment will starve for hunger: so that nothing can satisfy Love, but love. Your deserts might well have challenged my Principality for your due, my dignities for your right and all my treasure for your own. But all these I see suffice not, because they satisfy not; And to ask you why, is to ask one half pined, why he is hungry. You love my Lord, you love but whom? my daughter; yea that is my grief; Not that you love her, unworthy your love; but that I cannot give you her, more than worthy her. For such I swear (by the eternal, and my all-preseruing God) hath been, and yet is, the undutiful, and most obstinate will of my too disobedient and degenerate daughter, that never yet nor yet ever could I, or shall I (I fear) persuade, entreat, or enforce her to consent to any, in royal rank, worth, or majesty suitable to herself. For many times many powerful Princes, that sued for her favour, she hath both carelessly disrespected, and scornfully refused; And as many times, many times, hath she therein my will disobeyed, and contemned. Not regarding her renown shining in their glory; Nor respecting my contentment, nor progeny, eclipsed both in her neglect of me, and in her afforded favour to her far inferiors; which caused me in justice to punish her hateful disobedience with imprisonment, & yet in nature to bewail her imprisonment, though enforced by justice, Where I left her, there (so you please) may you find her, a prisoner to her will, that will not yet submit herself to my will; and therefore by my will, worthily chastised without offence to Nature. For where Nature. offendeth law, there law may justly be executed on Nature Assay her (most worthy of all worth) and put in balance your fortune with your fancy, and if your hap may drown her favour, you shall redouble the small remainder of my aged days, and well satisfy the justice of my displeasure, with the honour of your desired affinity. All my right is yours; your demand, my consent; and my consent a full Fathers grant. Sirap acknowledging this his so great bounty, gave him more thanks then if he had presently entitled and invested him in the Principality of Viennois; Yet said he, it seems not overstrange to me, nor should it be so offensive to your Highness, that one so enriched by Nature, so admired for Virtue, and so endowed by Fortune, should herein against all nature, so resist the law of nature; since Fancy is altogether guided by Destiny; and Love is neither subject to duty nor reason. Then seeing that Love yieldeth neither reason of choice, nor change; I will leave to reason further of it, and adventure once to carry up a dish to Venus' table, that never yet served in her Court.  
The Dauphin glad that his demand, was of no greater consequence, secretly smiled at his simplicity, that neglecting Honour's highest advancements, only contented himself with the naked hope of most impossible favours. But Sir Sirap being more assured, than the Dauphin did assure himself, rested thankfully contented with the same; And the next morning in the pride of his secret joy, he went unto the Castle, where (having the Daulphins' signet for his warrant) he called for Vienna, who fearing some sudden stratagem, (for all her hope of welfare was dead) fearfully came to the door, to know the end of her punishment. But when Sirap saw the alteration, that virtuous Constancy had wrought in her imprisonment, grief so attached him, that he was more mortified at the sight, than he was Moorefied in sight; yet after some secret digested sighs, he cheered up his ingreeved spirit, with the joy he had to see her, and thus by his interpreter he saluted her.  
Our Gods of all happiness, make fair Vienna happy in her desires, and more fortunate in her life. The same Vienna (Vienna said) yields you hearty thanks, and prays that the like content may countervail your well wishing. Then shall (said he) my love be made immortal in your liberty, and your liberty be purchased by my love. Vienna abashed at his reply, replied again; that grief had no harbour for love, nor love any acquaintance with distressed Vienna. A noble cause, said Sirap, may yet help to heal a grievous case. Then leave these for lost walls, and let not your will make you a prisoner, that may live in my love a Princess. For know (Madam) that your father being a prisoner in Babylon, and allotted there to most base and cruel death; I though by kind, an unpassionate Moor, yet (much more than any Moor) pitying the wiseries of others, had such compassion on your Father's distress, that growing careless of my estate (being there then entertained with greatest state) I adventured with great adventure, to acquit him from shameful bondage, and more cruel death; Conditionally; that upon my arrival with him in this Country, he should grant me, without all exception, one gift, that then I should require; which he then ratified by oath in sight of his God, and now hath confirmed it, high will in the presence of his people.  
Now Madam, hearing the well worthy renown of your renowned beauty, though being by Nature fierce, yet subject to affection, I could not but in that frailty, yield to humane condition. And therefore prising my content before a Crown, I required your Ladyship for my Wife, which your Father by oath hath granted, which you in duty should yield unto, and which I in love (if love can merit such happiness) do deserve, and yet most humbly do request. Vienna thus moved, remooved thus his flattering and aspiting hope. If, said she, my Father enjoy a second life by your conditional adventure, you may Press him to the performance, so far, as it it is in his power to accomplish; more you cannot ask, less he will not perform.  
But know Sir Knight, that love knows no such paternal law, that yet was never subject to any law. The Father hath but a consent, not the choice, in the daughter's affections; his free thoughts have no feeling of her conceit; and his mettle mind, and corrupted humours, are oft unpleasing to his child's fancy; Neither stands it with any reason, that he that cannot govern his own passions, should command others affections. Then must you of necessity, excuse his impossibility, and admit only of his willingness; that can give nought but consent for his largesse.  
Yet Madam, by your favour (said Sirap) stands the daughter bound for her Father's good, and the guerdon is but ungrateful, that is required in contempt. True said Vienna, but every good must not be rewarded with the best; lest the best want fit requital for due desert. Let it then suffice, that with thanks I acknowledge your great good, and in any other thing will be ready to pleasure you. Only in this, pardon me my Lord, for in loves infirmities I have no affinity, A troubled soul only in tears, her comfort seeks. It is a heavy comfort, said Sirap, that in mourning stands, yet, said she, doth the custom of sorrow lessen the grief, and it is some comfort to be void of all comfort. Despair, said Sirap, is mother to death, and death no fit compannion for beauty. My beauty said she (poor as it is) hath already been my bane, and made me most unfortunate in my most fortunatnesse.  
Why Madam, quoth he, hath your Grace been deceived? So said she, say they that told me so. But truth he replied, stands not on the tongues of men; True she said, and that is the cause why we are deceived by men: you mistake me much, said Sirap: Nay, said she, not mistaken, but overtaken you in the truth, and so she bade him farewell, leaving him tormented in mind, in that he guessed by her last words, that some one to advantage himself, or in malice to him, had wronged him in words; Yet could he not but smile, to think how his conceit was her deceit. But leaving her, whom he meant not so to leave, but to re-assay her again, he returned to the Dauphin, and told him of his hapless success. Who smothering his inward joy, made such show of discontentment, that the angry ocean swollen not as he seemed to storm. But Sirap neither weighing his anger, nor her answer, all smiling said, that once more he would with Ixion, assay to embrace Juno, and see whether in shuffling again of the Cards, Fortune would deal him a better game. For he would owe her himself, and try whether in his own language he could wean, and win her to his will, which moved great laughter, and ministered further occasion of pleasant talk. Thus they passed for the rest of the day, until supper, which ended, Sirap giving them the good night, went to his Chamber, where calling to mind Viennas words, which in his suppose, argued to report of his disloyalty, which grieved him much that her grief would be redoubled by his never intended falsity, and that he should be so wronged by unwronged, and unknown men. But after he had a little fed his sad humour with his deceiving conceit, he determined darkly, that dark night, to show his conceit thereon, and to remove that veil of misdeem, that so shadowed the assurance of his faithfulness. And therefore furnishing himself with a well tuned Lute, in the dead of night, he went alone to the Castle, where close shrouding himself under her window, he sweetly sounding, thus chanted out this ireful song.  

Sleep not Revenge, Revenge awake,  
awake you ireful spirits all:  
All are too few, too few you are,  
to plague those tongues, that swim in gall:  
Then wake Revenge, Revenge awake.  
And blast those tongues, that discord make.   

Sleep not Revenge, Revenge awake,  
Envy my Love, from Love exhorts:  
Report hath wronged true Troilus name.  
and false furmise, in slander sports.  
Then wake Revenge, Revenge awake,  
And cut those tongues for Pluto's sake.   

Sleep not Revenge, Revenge awake,  
Virtue hath lost her constant mind:  
Love lieth sick in her deceit,  
Fancy is subject to the wind.  
And all through hare, of spiteful tongues,  
Then wake Revenge, revenge these wrongs.   

Awake Revenge, for shame awake,  
Suspect hath robbed content of joy:  
Malice hath slain deserved trust,  
and light belief, hath bred annoy.  
Then wake I say, Revenge awake,  
And now, O now, revengement take.   

Revengement take, take this Revenge,  
Let baneful blasters rot their tongue:  
Poison their breath, and make them dumb,  
and let them live, in dying long:  
So shall Revenge a God be known,  
When thus Revenge, revenge hath shown.   
Vienna hearing this jarring City, wondered what he should be, or what he should mean by this his wrathful song. At last she supposed it was La-nova, that in Paris behalf thus excused his long silence, and absence, so condemned by her; but neither descrying him, nor receiving any answer from him, we then imagined that he was some other, that carried away with grief & wrong had amongst other doleful places, there eased himself of his woeful burden, by breathing out his secret and oppressing sorrows. For it is some comfort to the grieved, to find either a companion in grief, or a sad befitting wretched place, to lament and manifest his grief. But greatly disallowing his uncharitable mind, she all sighing said:  
Cease grieved soul, my soul grieves at like wrongs,  
Yet leave revenge, to him, revenge belongs.  
Sirap perceiving that his Song rather renewed, then relinquished her of her causeless grief, & persuading himself, that her stepmother both in envy of her glory, and in disdain of him, had at the first so hardened the heart of her Father, that he now altogether forgot (in continuing his rigour) that he was a Father; He thought good to warble out a more pleasing note, and to lull her a sleep with more comfortable Music, And therefore turning his voice, he cheerfully recorded this liking Ditty.  

Sleep, sleep, O sleep, sweet Lady sleep,  
cloud not your beauty with black care:  
Cares do consume, grief hath no grace,  
your Grace's grief, wears beauty bare.  
Then sleep, O sleep, sweet Lady sleep,  
Let me, ah me; your sorrows keep.   

Sigh not at all, all is in vain,  
In vain are sighs; fighes do confound:  
Times have their turns, turn then your tears,  
your woe, with woe, my heart doth wound.  
Then sleep, O sleep, sweet Lady sleep,  
Your Slave alone, for you will weep.   

O cruel Dame, Love's second choice,  
O choice the change of Nature's love:  
O Love forlorn, slave unto time,  
O Time corrupt, Virtue's remove,  
Why trouble you her quiet sleep,  
Since I for her, do daily weep.   

Sleep, sleep, O sleep, fair Lady sleep,  
your sorrows have all sorrows spent:  
Hope doubt hath slain, dead is despair,  
and Love will crown you with content.  
Then sleep, O sleep, sweet Lady sleep,  
No cause there is why you should weep.  
Why you should weep,  
Why you should weep,  
No cause there is, why you should weep.   
Vienna pleased with the tune, amazed at the voice, but more then ravished with the words, hastily put her head out of the window, and said; What so ever thou art, take thanks of a distressed Lady, and Heaven comfort thee, as thou hast, I know not how, recomforted me. And so turning herself to Jzabella, she asked whether she had ever heard that voice before, who replying, said, That if her memory failed her not, it was the same, or much like; if not the same that they heard in first in Court, under her Chamber window. Ah Izabella said Vienna, thou harpest too well, to be so well. Yet if my mind divine aright (God grant it may divine) I shall hear some tidings of my Paris, so persuades my heart, so grant our God. But say Izabella, say, what shall poor Vienna say to this moralised Moor, whose civil condition, majestical presence, and sugared tongue, differs so much from his rude, and barbarous Nation. Is not his black hue full of sweet favour, and his favour sufficient to command beauty's proudest favour. Now trust me Izabella the gentle Moor, more and more would gain interest in my affection, but the more I think he is a Moor, the more (for my Paris sake) I scorn to love the Moor. And therefore resolved to live to none but Paris, (though Paris hath forgotten Vienna) how shall I non-sute his importunity, whose proud hope promiseth love, and whose love is warranted by my Father's oath. Jzabella most carefully to acquit her of that care (though it was the least care of her care) told her, that her old putrified policy, would easily prevent that mischief. and therefore having a ready Capon in the Castle, they presently dismembering the body, took the two legs, and binding them under her arm holes, where the heat of her body might soon corrupt them, she preparedly expected his coming the next day. When Sirap clad in his richest array, strangely fashioned, came accompanied with many, that of purpose (being made acquainted with his intention) came to recreate themselves with his so supposed unusual courting. For he being as they thought, not to be understood by his tongue, nor to be satisfied by his ear; They vainly imagined, that he either would woo her with gifts, or with his countenance, or with variety of gestures. But he no sooner came to the Castle (but frustrating their expectation) he requested them by Bousoy, to stay, and stand a while aside. When winged with the hope of Love's assurance, he instantly boldly, and all only, entered, saluted, and in French thus courteously assaulted his fair and friendly foe. How fares, said he, the imperious Mistress of my enthralled heart? As a prisoner, not like a Princess, she said, fares the Mistress of a thralled, and woeful heart. But how came you Sir Knight so Frenchified, that erst was so strangefied? Love, sweet love, he said, hath made my tongue your Countryman, and my heart your servant. Then hath love (she replied) wrought a wonder in you & an admiration in me. Such said Sirap, is the divine power of Love's Deity, such the virtuous force of your heavenly beauty, and such the happy issue of our decreed destiny. Therefore, yield Vienna, Vienna yield, to that, which the Gods have decreed, Love commands, thy beauty requires, our Fortune allots, thy Father wills, and I thy friend request. Vienna thus charged, could not tell how to discharge herself of him, but by having a recourse to her wont and hidden policy; And therefore unclothing her Ivory breasts, she all sighing said, Alas Sir Knight, thy commendable demeanour, and Princely worth, well merits favour; and thy enticing tongue is sufficient to entrap a well advised mind, and a far more staider conceit. But know most noble, and most Magnificent Moor, that I am far worse than I seem, and much better than I would be. For behold (she bared her breasts that he might behold) the untimely corruption of my blasted beauty, look on the loathsome fruit of my long, and grievous imprisonment, and but feel; O feel not the filthy sent of my ulcered and rotting body; and then tell me whether I am not rather to be loathed, then loved; fled from, then followed. Sirap astonished at her words, but beyond all amazement, daunted with the smell, near fainted thereat; such was his insufferable sorrow for her, that he cursed himself for her; And yet such was the constancy of his never dying love, that encouraging himself, the better to cheer her up, he with a joyful countenance said; Be it Madam so, or worse then so, or what so you will; it shall not matter, I rest wholly yours, if for yours, you will accept of me, that am none but yours. For know most constant, and my endeared Lady, that Paris (if Paris be not forgotten) pleadeth now in person for himself, and here offereth his life, and service for your love. In confirmation whereof, see here the happy seal of your love, and the sole comfort of my absence, the loyal, and unvaluable Ring, your Highness gave me, when first being pursued by your Father's Knights, I departed from you, like a hungry Infant pulled from his Nurses' breast, or a thirsty Hart chased from a sweet Fountain. Then, then in the pride of your perfections, you paradised me in the heaven of your love; and now in the decay of your glory will I wed my everliving constancy, to your never dying loyalty.  
Look, nay look not on me so strangely; my black hue is but an Artificial vizour, and my borrowed countenance but the assurance of my safety. Vienna not able on the sudden to entertain so great a joy, shrunk down, deprived of her vital spirits, but chafed, revived, and enabled by Jzabella, she with tears of joy distilling down her cheeks, sadly said. Ah Paris, Paris, thy love made me a contented prisoner, but thy long absence hath made my prison a tormenting hell. But now, O happy now; thy thrice happy return makes my prison seem a Paradise, and my hell a most glorious heaven; with that falling on his breast, and enclosing him within her fainting arms, she often redoubled, her double doubled kisses. Paris being likewise surprised with fullness of joy, lost himself in her arms, but being acquitted of that ecstasy, he paid her large interest for her kindness, pleaded sorrow for her martyrdom, and mere necessity for his absence. Cease Paris, she said, my Paris surcease these needless excuses of faultless injury, since to over-fortifie innocence, is to breed suspicion. There is none but I, that have (if offended) offended. As first in being cause of thy exile, then of thy dangerous travails, and now in rejecting thy love; but impute the first two, to my Father's severity, not to my love; and the last of my ignorance, not to my inconstancy. For proof whereof see here, (here showed she the Capon's legs (the trial of my truth, which but in policy I used in all extremities, to withstand importunate Suitors, and all only to love none but thee, erst the sole hope of my life; but now the only life of my soul.  
Thus pleaded she to please him, and thus it pleased him to praise her, and both of them still joying, in that they enjoyed each other. Then turning to Jzabella, he kissed her many times, and vowed that out of his best fortunes, he would be thankful to her, for her love to him, but especially for her comforts to Vienna.  
And taking them both by the hands, he told them how, and by what means, the Dauphin her Father had freely, and absolutely given her to him. And therefore he requested them to conceal their knowledge of him, and to go along with him, for that he meant to have her Father to deliver her to him; all which they both so willingly, and cheerfully did, that the Gent. attending his leisure, no little marveiled to see him lead them so familiarly by the hands, and so pleasantly talking with Vienna in a private manner. But when they were come before the Dauphin, Paris (for now is Sirap turned again to returned Paris) holding her still by the hand, humbly requested him, in the presence of his daughter, & Barons, to ratify his vowed gift. Which the Dauphin both misliking, and admiring: demanded of her, whether her liking, and consent, stood to that black irreligious Moor, that had so often refused so many potent Lords, and most accomplished Princes. To which she (in all reverence, praying pardon) said. That the black smeared Smith was most pleasing to the Queen of beauty; That tha constant colour unfadible in itself, well argued constancy in the person. That his barbarous nature, was both reclaimed, and refined by his more civil education; and that his religion would easily be conformable to their profession. But howsoever, it sufficeth, that I love him and love yields no reason of choice, nor hath any respect of persons. His blind deity, blinds our fancies; and fancy lives not in desert, but in desire. We love altogether by liking not for honours; and our wills cannot command our affections, that are not in our powers:  
Then vouchsafe my Sovereign Lord and most gracious Father, of my destinied desire and admit of his wel-merited demand, & let me with your free consent enjoy him for my Husband, that hath so well purchased me for his Wife; so shall you honour yourself, in doing him right; reward his services, enworthy your posterity, and repair my decayed glory. The Dauphin seeing that it was but in vain, to resist celestial influence, preordinate be providence divine, and that he could neither in honour, nor conscience infringe his obliging oath, nor reject his pleading and glorious worth; showed a virtue in necessity, and freely gave, and delivered her unto him.  
Now Paris being thus possessed of his desire, cast off his artificial mask, and lowly on his knees, showed and presented himself, the humble and thankful servant of his Lord. The Dauphin finding himself thus deceived by him, that happily deceived the Sultan, and his Keepers for him; could not but commend his loyal love, and love him for his saving service. His superlative valour, and unvaluable virtue, showed that his great fortunes were but Ministers to his will. And therefore he cheerfully said. In France was I honoured by Paris, In Babylon unthralled by Sirap, And at home both I, my Country, and people, were protected by the Knight of the Dauphin. To Paris therefore I return my love, To Sirap I give my daughter, And to the Knight of the Dauphin I yield my Principality. Then my beloved and renowned son, give me thy hand, and let me embrace thee with thy valour. And here I swear by the all-ever-living-God, that if I were sole Monarch of the whole Universe, thou only shouldst rule for me, and after me: More I cannot give thee for thy Asian lost honours, less thou shalt not have then my whole Europian dignities. To confirm which, he presently caused him to be proclaimed his son in law, and the next lawful and immediate heir to all his Royal Territories. Great was now the wonder of all men, great the preparation to solemnize their Nuptials, and more than great, the joy, and triumphs made, and ordained for them. But amongst them all, there was none (Vienna excepted) that rejoiced more than old Sir Jaques, whose silver beard, was all embossed with pearls of swelling tears, for the joy of his so famous found son. As for his endeared friend La-nova, his glad heart showed the triumphs of joy, and all his thoughts were ravished with delights and contentments. To him (after many embraces) did Paris give infinite thanks for his comfortable friendship, and careful regard of Vienna, and his Father. Thus lived they long happy in each other, until the Dauphin summoned by death, paid Nature his due: and old Sir jaques wasted by age, yielded to death. Then was Sir Paris created Dauphin of Vienna, who enjoined La-nova to marry Jzabella, unto whom he gave all his Father's Lands, and Boufoy he made his Steward. And so they fortunatly reigned, and lived together many years, with great comfort, and full contentment, in Princely state, and height of terrestrial dignity.  

The Image of God; the wrath of Mars; and pledge of Nuptial rite;  
Records his name, that for his friend, this trivial toy did write.   
FINIS.