BUU~ i Pa
31.~r ';urS
f"
~I,
~i i)'
PS.'h; ""i'
B;I~i~ 'h"".mlnl;' G
"" I~~r:~
1,                                                                                                                                                                                                                         i::-:.~d':lj




i:-i,,,,,,~:li:l`'`": XR755 r CIEIW;Fi:: I rfl;?~~
-::::~ ~Jea;ik's:'
C E
aglF
~~~
~~~~~
~' ':~.~::~I~.~:
r.a/m.rn *r a;~.~~~
b:;::
il~!
~-~
ii:
FYlbdl
RhlmSPICri
;i~u~r ~~~l:\a:,_::,~.:~ ~.~::;;~::.~~~1;~-::;-:~ :-i~:::~~~ ~.~.-~~~
~':~..~.::
i ~.~~~...:;~-~.~;.j~:i:I
r, ' ~~~~: ''::::~~;~ ~~ ~ ~~::..;:'~ ~ ~~.~..~~~~... ~.~~~
~~~~~~ ~~
~~~           ~~r ~:1....: ~~ ~:-.::::
i:::
"~~l;';i~,~.:.:'.~
" ''.~.....:It:~ *r
-:\CbW9,,,i~ti:"tE -.-,5-hCL




-  hi
-
es  v  ' "
^,  i':^ _;L
















SHAKESPEARE'S LIBRARY.
PART I-VOL. I.
o ---
AS YOU LIKE IT.
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
MACBETH. CYMBELINE.
HAMLET PRINCE OF DENMARK.
OTHELLO. KING LEAR.


VOL. II.


(7




PR!NITED BY BALLANTYNS AND COMPANY
EDINBURGN AND LONDON




2-    =
~<,<ii i /" f 4  {,t * 2 {t,7
*   a!kelpeare'C   Librarp
A COLLECTION OF TIHE
PLAYS ROMANCES NOVELS POEMS
AND HISTORIES
EMPLOYED BY
SHAKESPEARE
IN THE COMPOSITION OF HIS WORKS
fl it  ntralbutiton  anb fjotte
SECOND EDITION
CANREF'ULLY ' R ef VISEL I AND G  ' IAf EN - LARG4
bte Cext nob  first fortme
from  a jgJ   Ctllation of tft @Oigitnl Copies
VOLUME THE SECOND
LONDON
REEVES AND T'RNEI oo CIIANCER\ LANE WC,
I875








AS YOU


LIKE IT.


VOL. If.


A








MR COLLIER'S INTRODUCTION


-o
STEEVENS, speaking of the obligations of Shakespeare
to the novel we have here reprinted, says that our
great dramatist followed it "more exactly than is his
general custom, when he is indebted to such worthless originals."  Let it be remembered, that this
opinion as to the value of Lodge's " Rosalynd " was
given by the commentator who asserted that the
force of an Act of Parliament would not be sufficient
to compel people to read Shakespeare's Sonnets, and
who pronounced Watson a more elegant writer than
Shakespeare in that department of poetry.
Comparing " Rosalynd" with "As you like it,"
the former may indeed be termed "worthless," inasmuch as Shakespeare's play is so immeasurably
superior to it; but Steevens spoke in the abstract of
works of the kind of which Shakespeare had availed
himself; and placing Lodge's novel by the side of
other productions of the same class, we cannot hesitate to declare it a very amusing and varied composition, full of agreeable and graceful invention (for
we are aware of no foreign authority for any of the
incidents), and with much natural force and simplicity
in the style of the narrative. That it is here and
there disfigured by the faults of the time, by forced
conceits, by lowness of allusion and expression, and
sometimes by inconsistency and want of decorum in




4


IN TROD UC TION.


the characters, cannot be denied. These are errors
which the judgment and genius of Shakespeare taught
him to avoid; but the admitted extent and nature of
his general obligations to Lodge afford a high tribute
to the excellence of that " original," which Steevens
pronounced " worthless." It may almost be doubted
whether he had even taken the trouble to read carefully that performance upon which he delivered so
dogmatical and definitive a condemnation.'
As in the case of Greene's " Dorastus and Fawnia,"
so in that of Lodge's " Rosalynd," the means of exact
comparison between it and the play being now afforded
to the modern reader, it would only be a waste of time
and space for us to enter into any details on the point.
The resemblance throughout will be found rather
general than particular; and the characters of Jaques,
Touchstone, and Audrey are entirely new in Shakespeare. The names of the other personages engaged
in the drama have also been changed, with the exception of those of the heroine, Phoebe, Adam, and
Charles the Wrestler.
The edition we have followed is that of I592, in
4~, B. L.; and we have carefully collated it with
the impression of 598. " Rosalynd" originally came
out in 1590; but Ritson was unacquainted with its
existence, and as no perfect copy of the first edition
is known, we have necessarily adopted the text of the
second. It was reprinted at least ten times between
1590 and I642-a sufficient evidence of the popularity of the story.
On the title-page Lodge tells us that it was " fetched
[" Lodge's ' Rosalynd' is reprinted in Shakespeare's Library
by Mr Collier, who is very angry at Steevens for having termed
it 'worthless:' but if Steevens somewhat undervalued it, Mr
Collier greatly overrates it."-Dyce. It appears to me that Mr
Collier states the matter fairly enough.]




INTROD UCTION.


5


from the Canaries;" and in the Dedication he informs
Lord Hunsdon that he wrote the novel " to beguile
the time " while he was on a voyage " to the islands
of Terceras and the Canaries," with Captain Clarke.
He does not speak of it as a translation (as he does
of his " Margarite of America," printed in I596, and
written in I592 while Lodge was at sea with Cavendish), and there is no reason to suppose that it-was
not an original production. Several of the poems
interspersed in " Rosalynd" were copied into 1" England's Helicon," 40, i6oo.
We have it on Lodge's own evidence (see the
Dedication), that he was educated at Oxford under
Sir Edward Hobby, and that he was contemporary
there with two of the sons of Lord Hunsdon. In
fact, he was entered at Trinity College in I573, and
as Anthony Wood states, took "one degree in arts;"
after which he went to London. There he joined a
theatrical company, became an actor and a dramatic
author, and about 1580 wrote a "Defence of Stageplays," in answer to Stephen Gosson's "School of
Abuse," which had been printed in the preceding year.
Lodge's "Defence" was suppressed by the public
authorities, and only two copies of it are now known,
both of which have been mutilated, being without
title-pages. His oldest production with a date is his
"Alarum against Usurers," 4~, 1584, in which he
mentions the fate of his answer to Gosson. It seems
likely that he entered the army soon afterwards, and
accompanied Captains Clarke and Cavendish on
their several expeditions.
At the close of his " Rosalynd," Lodge promises a
work which, as far as we know, was never printed, to
be called " The Sailor's Calendar," and it most likely
had relation to his sea adventures. However, we find
him again in connection with the stage soon after
1590; and his tragedy called "The Wounds of Civil




6


INTROD UCTION.


War" was published in 594. This is the only extant
dramatic piece which he wrote alone, though he had
joined Robert Greene in "A Looking Glass for Iondon and England," which must have been composed
before September I592, and was printed in the next
year. If any other dramas came from his pen, we
have no record of them either in print or in manuscript; but as he certainly wrote with much facility,
it is possible that he produced other plays for the
association of actors with which Philip Henslowe was
connected, and of which Lodge was a member.
As early as I589, we learn from the title-page of his
" Scilla's Metamorphosis," that he was a "student of
Lincoln's Inn, and he still styled himself " of Lincoln's
Inn, gentleman," when he published his "Fig for
Momus," in 1595.
How soon, and from what motive, he abandoned
the study of the law and took up that of medicine,
we have no information: probably it happened about
the year I596, when he published his latest miscellaneous work, "Wits Miserie," and dated it "from
my house at Low Layton." Wood says that he took
his degree in medicine at Avignon; but we hear no
more of him until 1603, when he printed "A Treatise
on the Plague," which was then raging in London;
and of which disorder he is supposed to have died in
1625. In the interval he practised as a physician,
and is mentioned by his contemporary dramatist and
actor, Thomas Heywood, in his "Troja Britannica,"
I609, in that capacity. Lodge was the author of a
Translation of Josephus, in I602, and of Seneca in
1614; and in 16i6 he obtained a passport from the
Privy Council, that he might "travel into the Arch
Duke's country," to "recover debts," said to be due
to him, though circumstances make it appear likely
that it was to avoid his own creditors.
It seems not improbable that our novelist and poet




INTRODUCTION.               7
was in some way related to Sir Thomas Lodge, who
was Lord Mayor of London in 1563, and regarding the
necessity of supporting whose credit a letter from the
Lord Treasurer is preserved among the Lansdowne
MSS. in the British Museum (No. 6). Sir Thomas
Lodge was one of the persons who fitted out the
Minion and Primrose for the coast of Guinea in I562
(See Hakluyt's Voyages); and it is very possible that
the author of " Rosalynd" accompanied Clarke and
Cavendish on their respective expeditions in consequence of his family connection with one of the promoters of previous naval adventures. He speaks of
his "birth," and of "the offspring from whence he
came," in his earliest dated production, and for aught
that appears to the contrary, he might be the son of
Sir Thomas Lodge, who met with misfortunes both
during and subsequent to his mayoralty. This, however, is a new point of speculation, not touched by any
of those who have hitherto adverted to the particulars
of the life of the author of the ensuing novel.




R ojaly nde.


Eu phues
ter his


golden Legacie, found afdeath in his Cell at Silexedra,


BEQVEATHED TO PHJLAVTVS
Sonnes, nvrsed vp with their Father
in England.
Fedchf from the Ovitaries by T. L. Gent.
LO0N DO0N
Printed by Abel Jeffes for T. G.
and Jo/in Bus~bie. 159:2.




To the Right  ronourable and his most esteemed Lord
the Lord of Hunsdon, Lord Chamberlaine to her
Majesties houshold, and Governor of her Towne of
Barwicke: T. I. G. wisheth increase of a/l
honotrable vertues.
SUCH Romanes (right honorable) as delighted in
martiall exploites, attempted their actions in the
honour of Augustus, because he was a patron of
souldiors: and Virgil dignified him with his poems,
as a Mcecenas of schollers; both joyntly advancing
his royaltie, as a prince warlike and learned. Such
as sacrifice to Pallas, present her with bayes, as she
is wise, and with armour as she is valiant; observing
heerein that excellent ro rsvrov, which dedicateth
honours according to the perfection of the person.
When I entred (right honourable) with a deepe insight into the consideration of these premisses, seeing
your L. to be a patron of all martiall men, and a
Mcecenas of such as apply themselves to studie: wearing with Pallas both the launce and the bay, and
aiming with Augustus at the favour of all, by the
honourable vertues of your minde: beeing myselfe
first a Student, and afterwards falling from bookes to
armes, even vowed in all my thoughts dutifully to
affect your Lordshippe.  Having with Captaine
Clarke made a voyage to the Ilands of Terceras and
the Canaries, to beguile the time with labour, I writ
this booke; rough, as hatcht in the stormes of the
Ocean, and feathered in the surges of many perillous
seas. But as it is the worke of a Souldior and a




10


THE EPISTLE DEDICA TORIE.


Scholier, I presumed to shrowd it under your Honors
patronage, as one that is the fautor and favourer of all
vertuous actions; and whose honorable Loves, growne
from the generall applause of the whole commonwelth for your higher desertes, may keepe it from the
mallice of every bitter toong. Other reasons more particular (right Honourable) chalenge in me a speciall
affection for your Lordshippe, as being a scholler
with your two noble sonnes, Maister Edmund Carew,
and M. Robert Carew, (two siens worthy of so
honorable a tree, and a tree glorious in such honourable fruite) as also beeing scholler in the Universitie
under that learned and vertuous Knight Sir Edward
Hobby, when he was Batcheler in Artes, a man as
well lettered as well borne, and after the Etymologie
of his name, soaring as high as the winges of knowledge can mount him, happie every way, and the
more fortunate, as blessed in the honor of so vertuous
a Lady. Thus (right Honourable) the duetie that I
owe to the sonnes, chargeth me that all my affection
be placed on the father; for where the braunches are
so pretious, the tree of force must be most excellent.
Commaunded and imboldened thus with the consideration of these forepassed reasons, to present my
Booke to your Lordship, I humbly intreate your
Honour will vouch of my labours, and favour a
souldiers and a schollers penne with your gratious
acceptance, who answeres in affection what he wants
in eloquence; so devoted to your honour, as his
onely desire is, to ende his life under the favour of
so martiall and learned a Patron. Resting thus in
hope of your Lordships curtesie, in deyning the
Patronage of my work, I cease: wishing you as many
honorable fortunes as your L. can desire or imagine.
Your honors souldiour most
humbly affectionate:
THOMAS LODGE.




TO THE GENTLEMEN READERS.


-0O
GENTLEMEN, looke not heere to finde anie sprigs of
Pallas bay tree, nor to heare the humour of any amorous Lawreat, nor the pleasing vaine of any eloquent
Orator: NVolo altum sapere, they bee matters above
my capacitie: the Coblers checke shal never light on
my heade, Ne sutor u/l-a crepidam; I will go no
further than the latchet, and then al is wel. Heere
you may perhaps finde some leaves of Venus mirtle,
but hewen down by a souldier with his curtlaxe, not
boght with the allurement of a filed tongue. To bee
briefe, Gentlemen, roome for a souldier and a sailer,
that gives you the fruits of his labors that he wrote in
the Ocean, when everie line was wet with a surge, and
every humorous passion countercheckt with a storme.
If you like it, so; and yet I will bee yours in duetie,
if you be mine in favour. But if Momus or any
squinteied asse, that hath mighty eares to conceive
with Midas, and yet little reason to judge: if he come
abord our Barke to find fault with the tackling, when
hee knowes not the shrowdes, Ile downe into the
hold, and fetch out a rustie pollax, that sawe no sunne
this seaven yeare, and either wel bebast him, or heave
the cockescombe over boord to feed cods. But
curteous Gentlemen, that favour most, backbite none,
and pardon what is overslipt, let such come and
welcome; Ile into the Stewards roome, and fetch
them a kanne of our best bevradge. Well, Gentlemen, you have Euphues Legacie. I fetcht it as farre
as the Iands of Terceras, and therfore read it, censure
with favour, and farewell.       Yours, T. L.




The Scedule1 annexed to Juuphues Testament, the tenour
of his Legacie, the Token of his Love.
THE vehemency of my sicknes (Philautus) hath
made mee doubtfull of life, yet must I die in
counsailing thee like Socrates, because I love thee.
Thou hast sons by Camilla, as I heare, who being
yong in yeres have green thoghts, and nobly born,
have great minds: bend them in their youth like the
willow, least thou bewayle them in their age for their
wilfulnes. I have bequeathed them a Golden legacie,
because I greatly love thee. Let them read it as
Archelaus did Cassender, to profit by it; and in reading let them meditate: for I have approved it the
best methode. They shall find Love anatomized by
Euphues, with as lively colours as in Appelles table:
roses to whip him when he is wanton, reasons to
withstand him when he is wilie. Here they may read
that Vertue is the King of labours, opinion the Mistres
of fooles; that unitie is the pride of Nature, and contention the overthrow of Families: here is Elleborus,
bitter in taste, but beneficial in triall. I have nothing
to send thee and Camilla but this counsel, that in
stead of worldly goods you leave your sons vertue and
glorie; for better were they to bee partakers of your
honours then lords of your mannors. I feele death
that summoneth me to my grave, and my Soule
desirous of his God. Farewell, Philautus, and let
the tenor of my counsaile be applyed to thy childrens
comfort.
Euphues dying to live.
If any man find this scrowle, send it to Philautus in
England.
' The Schedule annexed to Euphues Testament" is not in
the edition of I590, but was first added to that of 1592. It
appears in all the subsequent impressions that have fallen under
our notice.-Collier.




Rosalynde.
THERE dwelled adjoyning to the Citie of Bordeaux a Knight of most honourable parentage,
whome Fortune had graced with many favors, and
Nature honoured with sundry exquisite qualities, so
beautified with the excellence of both, as it was a
question whether Fortune or Nature were more prodigall in deciphering the riches of their bounties.
Wise he was, as holding in his head a supreme conceipt of pollicie, reaching with Nestor into the depth
of all civil governement; and to make his wisedome
more gratious, he had that salem ingenii, and pleasant
eloquence that was so highly commended in Ulisses:
his valour was no lesse then his witte, nor the stroke
of his launce no lesse forcible, than the sweetnesse of
his tongue was perswasive; for he was for his courage
chosen the principall of all the Knights of Malta.
This hardy Knight thus enricht with vertue and
honour, surnamed Sir John of Burdeux, having passed
the prime of his youth in sundry battailes against the
Turkes, at last (as the date of time hath his course)
grewe aged: his haires were silver hued, anpjrthe ap
of his age was figured on hisjrhead: Honour sate
in the furrowes of his face, and many yeares were
pourtrayed in his wrinckled lineaments, that all men




14


EUPHIUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


might perceive that his glasse was runne, and that
Nature of necessitie chalenged her due. Sir John
(that with the Phenix knewe the tearme of his life
was now expired, and could, with the Swan, discover
his end by her songs) having three sonnes by his wife
Lynida, the very pride of all his forepassed yeares,
thought now (seeing death by constraint would compel
him to leave them) to bestow upon them such a Legacie
as might bewray his love, and increase their insuing
amitie. Calling therefore these yong Gentlemen before him, in the presence of his fellow Knights of
Malta, he resolved to leave them a memorial of all his
fatherly care, in setting downe a methode of their
brotherly dueties.  Having therefore death in his
lookes to moove them to pittie, and teares in his eyes
to paint out the depth of his passions, taking his
eldest sonne by the hand, he began thus.
SIR JOHN OF BURDEAUX LEGACIE HE GAVE TO HIS
SONNES.
Oh my Sons, you see that Fate hath set a period
of my years, and destenies have determined the final
ende of my dayes: the Palme tree waxeth away ward,
for hee stoopeth in his height, and my plumes are ful
of sicke feathers touched with age. I must to my
grave that dischargeth all cares, and leave you to the
world that increaseth many sorrowes: my silver haires
conteineth great experience, and in the number of my
yeares are pende downe the subtleties of Fortune.
Therefore, as I leave you some fading pelfe to counterchecke povertie, so I will bequeath you infallible precepts that shall lead you unto vertue. First therefore
unto thee Saladyne theeldest, and therefore the chiefest
piller of my house, wherein should bee ingraved as
wel the excellency of thy fathers qualities, as the
essentiall forme of his proportion, to thee I give foure



EUPIZUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


15


teen ploughlands, with all my Mannor houses and
richest plate.  Next unto Fernandine I bequeath
twelve ploughlands. But unto Rosader the youngest
I give my Horse, my Armour, and my Launce with
sixteene ploughlands; for if the inwarde thoughts be
discovered by outward shadows, Rosader wil exceed
you all in bountie and honour. Thus (my Sonnes)
have I parted in your portions the substance of my
wealth, wherein if you be as prodigall to spend,
as I have beene carefull to get, your friendes wil
greeve to see you more wastfull then I was bountifull, and your foes smile that my fal did begin in
your excesse.  Let mine honour be the glasse of
your actions, and the fame of my vertues the
Loadstarre to direct the course of your pilgrimage.
Ayme your deedes by my honorable endevours, and
shew yourselves siens worthy of so florishing a tree,
least as the birdes Halcyones which exceede in whitenesse, I hatch yong ones that exceede in blacknes.
Climbe not my sonnes: aspiring pride is a vapour
that ascendeth hie, but soone turneth to a smoake;
they which stare at the starres, stumble upon the
stones; and such as gaze at the Sunne (unless they
be Eagle eyed) fal blinde. Soare not with the Hobbie,
least you fal with the Larke, nor attempt not with
Phaeton, least you drowne with Icarus. Fortune when
shee wils you to flye, tempers your plumes with waxe;
and therefore eyther sit stil and make no wing, or else
beware the Sunne, and hold Dedalus axiome authentical (medium tenuere fulissimum). Low shrubs have
deepe rootes, and poore Cottages great patience.
Fortune looks ever upward, and envy aspireth to
nestle with dignitie. Take heed my sonnes, the meane
is sweetest melodie, where strings high stretch, eyther
soone cracke, or quickly grow out of tune. Let your
Countryes eare be your hearts content, and thinke that
you are not borne for your selves, but to levell your




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


thoughts to be loyal to your prince, careful for the
common-weale, and faythful to your friendes; so shal
Fraunce say, these men are as excellent in vertues, as
they be exquisite in features.  Oh my sons, a friend
is a pretious Jewell, within whose bosome you may
unload your sorrowes, and unfold your secrets, and he
eyther wil releeve with counsaile, or perswade with
reason; but take heed in the choyce: the outward
shew makes not the inwarde man, nor are the dimples
in the face the Calenders of truth. When the Liquorice
leafe looketh most dry, then it is most wet: when the
shoares of Lepanthus are most quiet, then they forepoint a storme. The Baatan1 leafe the more fayre it
lookes, the more infectious it is, and in the sweetest
wordes is oft hid most trechery. Therefore my sonnes,
chuse a friend as the Hiperborei do the mettals, sever
them from the ore with fire, and let them not bide the
stampe before they be currant: so trie and then trust:
let time be the touchstone of friendship, and then
frends faithful lay them up for jewels. Be valiant my
sonnes, for cowardice is the enemy to honour; but
not too rash, for that is extreme. Fortitude is the
meane, and that is limited within bonds, and prescribed with circumstance. But above al, and with
that he fetcht a deep sigh, beware of Love, for it is
farre more perillous then pleasant, and yet I tell you
it allureth as ill as the Syrens.  Oh my sonnes, fancie
is a fickle thing, and beauties paintings are trickt up
with times colours, which being set to drie in the
Sunne, perish with the same. Venus is a wanton,
and though her lawes pretend libertie, yet there is
nothing but losse and glistering miserie.  Cupids
wings are plumed with the feathers of vanitie, and his
arrowes, where they pierce, inforce nothing but deadly
destres: a womans eye, as it is pretious to behold, so
1 [Edit. 1592 reads Baarran.]




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


17


is it prejudicial to gaze upon; for as it affoordeth
delight, so it snareth unto death. Trust not theyr
fawning favours, for their loves are like the breath of
a man uppon steele, which no sooner lighteth on but
it leapeth off, and their passions are as momentary as
the colours of a Polipe, which changeth at the sight of
every object.
My breath waxeth short, and mine eyes waxeth
dimme, the houre is come, and I must away; therefore let this suffice, women are wantons, and yet man
cannot want one: and therefore if you love, choose
her that hath eyes of Adamant, that wil turne onely
to one poynt; her heart of a Diamond, that will receive but one forme; her tongue of a Sethin leafe,
that never wagges, but with a Southeast winde: and
yet my sonnes, if she have all these qualities, to be
chast, obedient, and silent, yet for that she is a woman,
shalt thou finde in her sufficient vanities to countervaile her vertues.  Oh now my sonnes, even now
take these my last wordes as my latest Legacie, for
my threed is spunne, and my foot is in the grave:
keepe my precepts as memorials of your fathers counsailes, and let them bee lodged in the secrete of your
hearts; for wisedome is better than wealth, and a
golden sentence worth a world of treasure. In my
fal see and marke my sonnes the folly of man, that
being dust climbeth with Biares to reatch at the
Heavens, and ready every minute to dye, yet hopeth
for an age of pleasures. Oh mans life is like lightning that is but a flash, and the longest date of his
yeares but as a bavens blaze. Seeing then man is so
mortal, be careful that thy life be vertuous, that thy
death may bee ful of admirable honors: so shalt thou
chalenge fame to be thy fautor, and put oblivion to
exile with thine honorable actions. But my sonnes,
least you should forget your Fathers axiomes, take
this scroule, wherein reade what your father dying
VOL. II.                               B




iS


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


wils you to execute living. At this hee shrunke downe
in his bed, and gave up the ghost.
John of Bordeaux being thus dead was greatly
lamented of his sonnes, and bewayled of his friends,
especially of his fellow Knights of Malta, who attended
on his funerals, which were performed with great
solemnitie.  His obsequies done, Saladyne caused
next his Epitaph the contents of the scroule to bee
pourtrayed out, which were to this effect:
THE CONTENTS OF THE SCEDULE WHICH SIR JOHN
OF BORDEAUX GAVE TO HIS SONNES.
My sonnes, behold what portion I do give.
I leave you goods, but they are quickly lost:
I leave advise, to schoole you how to live:
I leave you wit, but wonne with little cost:
But keepe it well, for counsaile still is one,
When Father, friends, and worldly goods are gone.
In choice of thrift let honour be your gaine,
Winne it by vertue and by manly might;
In dooing good esteeme thy toyle no paine;
Protect the fatherlesse and widowes right:
Fight for thy faith, thy Country, and thy King,
For why? this thrift wil prove a blessed thing.
In choise of wife, preferre the modest chast;
Lillies are faire in shew, but foule in smell:
The sweetest lookes by age are soon defast;
Then choose thy wife by wit and living well.
Who brings thee wealth and many faults withall,
Presents the hony mixt with bitter gall.
In choise of friends, beware of light beliefe;
A painted tongue may shroud a subtill heart:
The Syrens teares doe threaten mickle griefe.
Foresee my sonnes, for feare of sodaine smart:
Chuse in your wants, and he that friends you then,
When richer growne, befriend you him agen.
Learne with the Ant in summer to provide;
Drive with the Bee the Droane from out the hive:
Buyld lyke the Swallow in the summer tyde;
Spare not too much (my sonnes) but sparing thrive
Be poore in folly, rich in all but sinne,
So by your death your glory shall beginne.




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


19


Saladyne having thus set up the Scedule, and hangd
about his Fathers hearse many passionate Poems, that
France might suppose him to be passing sorrowfull,
hee clad himselfe and his brothers all in black, and
in such sable sutes discoursed his griefe: but as the
Hiena when she mourns is then most guileful, so
Saladyne under this shewe of griefe, shaddowed a
heart ful of contented thoughts. The Tyger though
he hide his claws, wil at last discover his rapine: the
Lions looks are not the maps of his meaning, nor a
man's phisnomie is not the display of his secrets.
Fire cannot be hid in the straw, nor the nature of man
so concealed, but at last it wil have his course: nurture and art may do much, but that Natura naturans,
which by propagation is ingrafted in the hart, will be
at last perforce predominant according to the olde
verse,
Naturam expellas furca licet, tamen usque recurret.
So fares it with Saladine, for after a months mourning was past, he fel to consideration of his Fathers
testament; how hee had bequeathed more to his
yoonger brothers than himselfe, that Rosader was his
Fathers darling, but now under his tuition, that as yet
they were not come to yeares, and he being their gardain, might (if not defraud them of their due) yet
make such havocke of theyr legacies and lands, as
they should be a great deal the lighter: wherupon he
began thus to meditate with himselfe.
SALADYNES MEDITATION WITH HIMSELFE.
Saladyne, how art thou disquieted in thy thoughts,
and perplexed with a world of restlesse passions,
having thy minde troubled with the tenour of thy
Fathers testament, and thy heart fiered with the hope
of present preferment? By the one thou art coun



20


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


saild to content thee with thy fortunes, by the other,
perswaded to aspire to higher wealth. Riches (Saladyne) is a great royaltie, and there is no sweeter
physick than store. Avicen like a foole forgot in his
Aphorismes to say, that gold was the most pretious
restorative, and that treasure was the most excellent
medecine of the minde. Oh Saladyne, what were thy
Fathers precepts breathed into the winde? hast thou
so soone forgotten his principles? did he not warne
thee from coveting without honor, and climing without vertue? did he not forbid thee to ayme at any
action that should not bee honourable? and what will
bee more prejudiciall to thy credite, than the carelesse
ruine of thy brothers prosperitie? and wilt thou
become the subversion of their fortunes? is there any
sweeter thing than concord, or a more precious jewel
then amitie? are you not sonnes of one father, siens
of one tree, birds of one neast? and wilt thou become
so unnaturall as to robbe them, whom thou shouldest
relieve? No Saladyne, intreat them with favours,
and entertaine them with love, so shalt thou have thy
conscience cleare and thy renowne excellent. Tush,
what wordes are these base foole, farre unfit (if thou
be wise) for thy honour.l What though thy father at
his death talked of many frivilous matters, as one that
doted for age, and raved in his sicknes, shal his words
be axioms, and his talke be so authenticall, that thou
wilt (to observe them) prejudice thy selfe? No no
Saladyne, sicke mens willes that are parole, and have
neither hand nor seale, are like the lawes of a Cittie
written in dust, which are broken with the blast of
every winde. What man thy father is dead, and hee
can neither helpe thy fortunes, nor measure thy
actions; therfore bury his words with his carkasse,
1 [Edit. I592 has humour.]




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


2I


and be wise for thy selfe. What, tis not so olde as
true:
Non sapit, qui sibi non sapit.
Thy brother is yoong, keepe him now in awe, make
him not checke mate with thy selfe: for
Nimia familiaritas contemptum parit.
Let him know little, so shall he not be able to execute much, suppresse his wittes with a base estate,
and though he bee a Gentleman by nature yet forme
him anew, and make him a peasant by nourture: so
shalt thou keepe him as a slave, and raign thy selfe Lsole Lord over all thy fathers possessions. As for
Fernandyne thy middle brother, he is a scholler and
hath no minde but on Aristotle, let him reade on
Galen while thou riflest with golde, and pore on his
booke til thou doest purchase landes: witte is great
wealth, if he have learning it is enough, and so let all
rest.
In this humour was Saladyne making his brother
Rosader his foote boy, for the space of two or three
yeares, keeping him in such servile subjection, as if
he had been the sonne of any country vassal. The
yoong gentleman bare all with patience, til on a day
walkyng in the Garden by himselfe, he began to consider how he was the sonne of John of Bourdeaux, a
knight renowmed for many victories, and a gentleman
famozed for his vertues, how contrarie to the testament of his father, hee was not only kept from his
land, and intreated as a servant, but smothered in
such secret slaverie, as hee might not attaine to any
honourable actions. Alas,' quoth hee to himselfe
(nature woorking these effectual passions), why should
I that am a Gentleman borne, passe my time in such un1 [Edit. I592 has As.]




22


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


natural drudgery? were it not better either in Paris to
become a scholler, or in in the court a courtier, or in the
field asouldier, then to live afoote boy to myownbrother?
nature hath lent me wit to conceive, but my brother
denied mee art to contemplate: I have strength to
performe any honorable exployt, but no libertie to
accomplish my vertuous indevours: those good partes
that God hath bestowed upon mee, the envy of my
brother doth smother in obscuritie; the harder is my
fortune, and the more his frowardnes.  With that
casting up his hand he felt haire on his face, and perceiving his beard to bud, for choler hee began to blush,
and swore to himselfe he would be no more subject
to such slaverie. As thus he was ruminating of his
melancholie passions, in came Saladyne with his men,
and seeing his brother in a browne study, and to forget
his wonted reverence, thought to shake him out of his
dumps thus. Sirha (quoth he) what is you heart on
your halfepeny, or are you saying a Dirge for your
fathers soule? what is my dinner readie? At this
question Rosader turning his head ascance, and bending his browes as if anger there had ploughed the
furrowes of her wrath, with his eyes full of fire, hee
made this replie. Doest thou aske mee (Saladyne)
for thy Cates? aske some of thy Churles who are fit
for suche an office: I am thine equal by nature,
though not by birth, and though thou hast more Cardes
in the bunch, I have as many trumpes in my handes
as thy selfe. Let me question with thee, why thou
hast feld my woods, spoyled my Manner houses, and
made havocke of suche utensalles as my father bequeathed unto mee?   I tell thee Saladyne, either
answere mee as a brother, or I wil trouble thee as an
enemie.
At this replie of Rosaders, Saladyne smiled as
laughing at his presumption, and frowned as checking
his folly: he therfore tooke him up thus shortly, What




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


23


sirha, wel I see early pricks the tree that wil proove
a thorne: hath my familiar conversing with you made
you coy, or my good lookes drawne you to be thus
contemptuous? I can quickly remedie such a faulte,
and I wil bend the tree while it is a wand: In faith
(sir boy) I have a snaffle for such a headstrong colt.
You sirs lay holde on him and binde him, and then I
wil give him a cooling carde for his choller. This
made Rosader halfe mad, that stepping to a great
rake that stood in the garden, hee laide such loade
uppon his brothers men that hee hurt some of them,
and made the rest of them run away. Saladyne seeing Rosader so resolute, and with his resolution so
valiant, thought his heeles his best safetie, and tooke
him to a loaft adjoyning to the garden, whether Rosader pursued him hotlie.  Saladyne afraide of his
brothers furie, cried out to him thus, Rosader, be not
so rash, I am thy brother and thine elder, and if I
have done thee wrong ile make thee amendes: revenge not anger in blood, for so shalt thou staine the
vertue of old Sir John Bourdeauz: say wherein thou
art discontent and thou shalt bee satisfied. Brothers
frownes ought not to be periodes of wrath: what man
looke not so sowerly, I know we shalbe friendes, and
better friends then we have been. For, Amantium
ira amoris redintegratio est.
These wordes appeased the choller of Rosader, (for
he was of a milde and curteous nature) so that hee
layde downe his weapons, and upon the faith of a
Gentleman, assured his brother hee would offer hnim
no prejudice: whereupon Saladyne came downe, and
after a little parley, they imbraced eache other and
became friends, and Saladyne promising Rosader the
restitution of all his lands, and what favour els (quoth
he) any wales my abilitie or the nature of a brother
may performe.  Upon these sugred reconciliations
they went into the house arme in arme togither, to




24


RUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


the great content of all the old servants of Sir John of
Bourdeaux. Thus continued the pad hidden in the
strawe, til it chaunced that Torismond King of France,
had appointed for his pleasure a day of Wrastling and
of Tournament to busie his Commons heades, least
being idle, their thoughts should runne uppon more
serious matters, and call to remembrance their old
banished King, a Champion there was to stand against
all comers a Norman, a man of tall stature and of
great strength; so valiant, that in many such conflicts he alwaies bare away the victorie, not onely
overthrowing them which hee incountred, but often
with the weight of his bodie killing them outright.
Saladyne hearing of this, thinking now not to let the
ball fal to the ground, but to take opportunitie by the
forehead: first by secret means convented with the
Norman, and procured him with rich rewards to
sweare, that if Rosader came within his claws hee
should never more returne to quarrel with Saladyne
for his possessions. The Norman desirous of pelfe,
as (Quis nisi mentis inops oblatum respuit aurum),
taking great gifts for little Gods, tooke the crownes
of Saladyne to performe the Stratagem. Having thus
the Champion tied to his vilanous determination by
oath, hee prosecuted the intent of his purpose thus:
He went to yoong Rosader, (who in all his thoughts
reacht at honour, and gazed no lower then vertue
commanded him) and began to tel him of this Tournament and Wrastling, how the King should bee there,
and all the chiefe Peeres of France, with all the
beautiful damosels of the Countrey: now brother
(quoth hee) for the honor of Sir John of Bourdeaux
our renowned father, to famous that house that never
hath bin found without men approoved in Chivalrie,
shewe thy resolution to be peremptorie. For my
selfe thou knowest, though I am eldest by birth, yet
never having attempted any deedes of Armes I am




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


25


yongest to performe any martial exploytes, knowing
better how to survey my lands then to charge my
Launce: my brother Fernandyne hee is at Paris
poring on a fewe papers, having more insight into
Sophistrie and principles of Philosophie, then anie
warlyke indeveurs; but thou, Rosader, the youngest
in yeares but the eldest in valour, art a man
of strength, and darest doo what honour allowes
thee: take thou my fathers Launce, his Sword, and
Horse, and hye thee to the Tournament, and either
there valiantly cracke a speare, or trie with the Norman
for the palme of activitie. The words of Saladyne
were but spurres to a free horse, for hee had scarce
uttered them, ere Rosader tooke him in his armes,
taking his proffer so kindly, that hee promised in what
hee might to requite his curtesie. The next morrow
was the day of the Tournament, and Rosader was so
desirous to shew his heroycal thoughts, that he past
the night with litle sleep; but assoone as Phoebus
had vailed the Curteine of the night, and made
Aurora blush with giving her the bezoles labres in her
silver Couch, he gat him up, and taking his leave of
his brother, mounted himselfe towardes the place
appoynted, thinking every mile ten leagues til he
came there. But leaving him so desirous of the journey: to Torismond, the king of France, who having
by force banished Gerismond their lawful king that
lived as an outlaw in the Forest of Arden, sought
now by all meanes to keep the French busied with all
sports that might breed their content. Amongst the
rest he had appointed this solemne Turnament, wherunto hee in most solemne maner resorted, accompanied
with the twelve peers of France, who rather for fear
then love graced him with the shew of their dutiful
favours: to feede their eyes, and to make the beholders pleased with the sight of most rare and glistring objects, he had appoynted his owne daughter




26


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


Alinda to be there, and the fair Rosalynd, daughter
unto Gerismond, with al the beautifuIl Dammoselles
that were famous for their features in all France.
Thus in that place did love and war triumph in a
simpathy; for such as were martial, might use their
Launce to be renowmed for the excellency of their
Chevalrie, and suche as were amorous, might glut
themselves with gazing on the beauties of most
heavenly creatures.  As every mans eye had his
several survey, and fancie was partial in their lookes,
yet all in general applauded the admirable riches that
Nature bestowed on the face of Rosalynde; for uppon
her cheeks there seemed a battaile betweene the
Graces, who should bestow most favour to make her
excellent. The blush that gloried Luna, when she
kist the Shepheard on the hilles of Latmos, was not
tainted with such a pleasant dye, as the Vermilion
flourisht on the silver hue of Rosalyndes countenance:
her eyes were lyke those Lampes that made the
wealthie covert of the Heavens more gorgious, sparkling favour and disdaine; courteous and yet coye, as
if in them Venus had placed all her amorets, and
Diana all her chastitie. The tramelles of her hayre,
foulded in a call of Golde, so farre surpast the
burnisht glister of the mettal, as the Sunne doth the
meanest Starre in brightness: the tresses that foldes
in the browes of Apollo were not halfe so rich to the
sight, for in her hayres it seemed love had laid herselfe in ambush, to intrappe the proudest eye that
durst gaze uppon their excellence: what shoulde I
neede to decipher her particular beauties, when by
the censure of all, shee was the Paragon of all earthly
perfection. This Rosalynd sat I say with Alinda as
a beholder of these sportes, and made the Cavaliers
cracke their Lances with more courage: many
deedes of Knighthood that day were performed, and
many prizes were given according to their several




EUPHUZES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


27


desertes: at last when the Tournament ceased, the
wrastling beganne, and the Norman presented himselfe as a chalenger against all commers, but hee
looked lyke Herculus when hee advaunst himselfe
agaynst Acheloiis, so that the furie of his countenaunce amazed all that durst attempte to incounter
with him in any deed of activitie: til at last a lustie
Francklin of the Country came with two tall men
that were his sonnes of good lyniaments and comely
personage: the eldest of these dooing his obeysance
to the King entered the Lyst, and presented himselfe
to the Norman, vho straight coapt with him, and as
a man that would triumph in the glorie of his strength,
roused himselfe with such furie, that not onely hee
gave him the fall, but killed him with the weight of
his corpulent personage; which the yoonger brother
seeing, lepte presently into the place, and thirstie
after the revenge, assayled the Norman with such
valour, that at the first incounter hee brought him to
his knees: which repulst so the Norman, that recovering himself, feare of disgrace doubling his strength,
hee stept so stearnely to the yoong Francklin, that
taking him up in his armes hee threw him against the
grounde so violently, that hee broake his necke, and
so ended his dayes with his brother. At this unlookt
for massacre, the people murmured, and were all in a
deepe passion of pittie; but the Franklin, father unto
these, never chaunged his countenance, but as a man
of a couragious resolution, tooke up the bodies of his
sonnes without shewe of outward discontent.
All the while stood Rosader and sawe this Tragedie:
who noting the undoubted vertue of the Francklins
minde, alighted of from his Horse, and presently sat
downe on the grasse, and commanded his boy to pul
off his bootes, making him ready to try the strength
of this Champion, being furnished as he would, he
clapt the Francklin on the shoulder and said thus.




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


Bold yeoman whose sonnes have ended the terme of
their yeares with honour, for that I see thou scornest
fortune with patience, and twhartest the injury of fate
with content, in brooking the death of thy sonnes,
stand awhile and either see me make a third in their
Tragedie, or else revenge their fal with an honourable
triumph, the Francklin seeing so goodly a gentleman to
givehim such curteous comfort, gave him hartie thankes,
with promise to pray for his happy successe. With
that Rosader vailed bonnet to the King, and lightly
leapt within the lists, where noting more the companie
then the combatant, he cast his eye upon the troupe
of Ladies that glistered there lyke the starres of
heaven, but at last Love willing to make him as
amorous as hee was valiant, presented him with the
sight of Rosalynd, whose admirable beautie so inveagled the eye of Rosader, that forgetting himselfe,
hee stood and fedde his lookes on the favour of
Rosalyndes face, which shee perceiving, blusht:
which was such a doubling of her beauteous excellence, that the bashful redde of Aurora, at the sight
of unacquainted Phaeton, was not halfe so glorious.
The Normane seeing this young Gentleman
fettered in the looks of the Ladyes drave him
out of his memento with a shake by the shoulder:
Rosader looking backe with an angrie frowne,
as if hee had been wakened from some pleasaunt
dreame, discovered to all by the furye of his countenance that hee was a man of some high thoughts:
but when they all noted his youth, and the sweetnesse
of his visage, with a general applause of favours, they
grieved that so goodly a yoong man should venture
in so base an action; but seeing it were to his dishonour to hinder him from his enterprise, they wisht
him to bee graced with the palme of victorie. After
Rosader was thus called out of his memento by the
Norman, hee roughly clapt to him with so fierce an




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACTE.


29


incounter, that they both fel to the ground, and with
the violence of the fal were forced to breathe: in
which space the Norman called to minde by all
tokens, that this was hee whome Saladyne had
appoynted him to kil; which conjecture made him
stretch every limbe, and try everie sinew, that working his death hee might recover the golde, which so
bountifuly was promised him. On the contrary part,
Rosader while he breathed was not idle, but stil cast
his eye upon Rosalynde, who to incourage him with
a favour, lent him such an amorous looke, as might
have made the most coward desperate: which glance
of Rosalynd so fiered the passionate desires of
Rosader, that turning to the Norman hee ranne upon
him and braved him with a strong encounter: the
Norman received him as valiantly, that there was a
sore combat, hard to judge on whose side fortune
would be prodigal. At last Rosader calling to minde
the beautie of his new Mistresse, the fame of his
fathers honours, and the disgrace that should fal to
his house by his misfortune, rowsed himselfe and
threw the Norman against the ground, falling uppon
his chest with so willing a weight, that the Norman
yelded nature her due, and Rosader the victorie.
The death of this Champion, as it highly contented
the Francklin, as a man satisfied with revenge, so it
drue the King and all the Peeres into a great admiration, that so yoong yeares and so beautiful a personage
should contain such martiall excellence: but when
they knew him to bee the yoongest son of Sir John
of Bourdeaux, the King rose from his seat and
imbraced him, and the Peeres intreated him with
all favourable curtese, commending both his valour
and his vertues, wishing him to go forward in such
haughtie deeds, that hee might attaine to the glory of
his fathers honourable fortunes.
As the King and Lordes graced him with em



30


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


bracyng, so the Ladyes favoured him with theyr
lookes, especially Rosalyn'd, whome the beautie and
valour of Rosader had already touched: but she
accounted love a toye, and fancie a momentary
passion, that as it was taken in with a gaze, might be
shaken off with a winke: and therefore feared not to
dally in the flame, and to make Rosader know she
affected him: tooke from her necke a Jewel, and
sent it by a Page to the yong gentleman. The Prize
that Venus gave to Paris, was not halfe so pleasing
to the Trojan, as this Jemme was to Rosader: for if
fortune had sworne to make himself sole Monarke of
the world, he would rather have refused such dignitie,
than have lost the Jewel sent to him by Rosalynd.
To returne hir with the like he was unfurnished, and
yet that he might more than in his lookes discover
his affection, hee stept into a tent, and taking pen
and paper writ this fancie:Two Sunnes at once from one faire heaven there shinde,
Ten braunches from two boughes tipt all with roses,
Pure lockes more golden than is golde refinde,
Two pearled rowes that Natures pride incloses,
Two mounts faire marble white, downe-soft and dainty,
A snow died orbe: where love increast by pleasure
Full wofull makes my heart, and bodie faintie:
Hir faire (my woe) exceeds all thought and measure.
In lines confusde my lucklesse harme appeareth,
Whom sorrow clowdes, whom pleasant smiling cleareth.
This sonnet he sent to Rosalynd, which when she
read, shee blusht, but with a sweet content in that
she perceived love had alotted her so amorous a
servant.  Leaving her to her intertained fancies,
againe to Rosader, who triumphing in the glorie of
this conquest, accompanyed with a troupe of yoong
gentlemen, that were desirous to be his familiars,
went home to his brother Saladynes, who was walking before the gates, to heare what successe his




EUPIhUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


31


brother Rosader should have, assuring himself of his
death, and devising how with dissimuled sorrowe, to
celebrate his funerals: as he was in his thought he
cast up his eye, and sawe where Rosader returned
with the garland on his head, as having won the prize
accompanied with a crue of boon companions: greeved
at this, he stepped in and shut the gate. Rosader
seeing this, and not looking for such unkind entertainment, blusht at the disgrace, and yet smothering
his griefe with a smile, he turned to the Gentlemen,
and desired them to hold his brother excused, for he
did not this upon any malitious intent or nigardize,
but being brought up in the country, he absented
himselfe as not finding his nature fit for such youthful
company. Thus he sought to shadow abuses proffered
him by his brother, but in vaine, for hee could by no
meanes be suffered to enter: wherupon he ran his
foot against the doore, and brake it open: drawing
his sword, and entring boldly into the Hall, where he
found none (for all were fled) but one Adam Spencer
an English man, who had beene an old and trustie
servant to Sir John of Bourdeaux: he for the love
hee bare to his deceased Maister, favored the part of
Rosader, and gave him and his such entertainment as
he could. Rosader gave him thanks, and looking
about, seeing the Hall empty, saide, Gentlemen, you
are welcome, frolike and be merry, you shall be sure
to have wine enough, whatsoever your fare be. I tel
you Cavaliers, my Brother hath in his house five
tunne of wine, and as long as that lasteth, I beshrew
him that spares his lyquor.  With that hee burst
open the buttery doore, and with the helpe of Adam
Spencer covered the Tables, and set downe whatsoever he could find in the house; but what they
wanted in meat, was supplyed with drinke, yet had
they royall cheare, and withal such hartie welcome,
as would have made the coursest meats, seeme deli



32


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


cates. After they had feasted and frolickt it twise or
thrise with an upsey freeeze, they all took their leave
of Rosader and departed. Assoone as they were
gone, Rosader growing impatient of the abuse, drewe
his sword, and swore to be revenged on the discourteous Saladyne: yet by the meanes of Adam
Spencer, who sought to continue friendshippe and
amity betwixte the brethren, and through the flattering submission of Saladyne, they were once againe
reconciled, and put up all forepassed injuries with a
peaceable agreement, living together for a good space
in such brotherly love, as did not onely rejoice the
servantes, but made all the Gentlemen and bordering
neighbors glad of such friendly concord. Saladyne
hiding fire in the straw, and concealing a poysoned
hate in a peaceable countenance, yet deferring the
intent of his wrath till fitter oportunity, he shewed
himselfe a great favorer of his brothers vertuous
endevors: where leaving them in this happy league,
let us returne to Rosalynd.
Rosalynd returning home from the tryumph, after
she waxed solitary, Love presented her with the Idea
of Rosaders perfection, and taking her at discovert,
stroke her so deepe, as she felte her selfe grow passing
passionate: she began to cal to minde the comlinesse
of his person, the honor of his parents, and the vertues
that excelling both, made him so gratious in the eies
of every one. Sucking in thus the hony of love, by
imprinting in her thoughts his rare qualities, shee
began to surfet with the contemplation of his vertuous
conditions, but when she cald to remembrance her
present estate, and the hardnesse of her fortunes,
desire began to shrink, and fancie to vale bonnet,
that betweene a chaos of confused thoughts, she
began to debate with herselfe in this maner:




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


33


ROSALYNDS PASSION.
Infortunate Rosalynde, whose misfortunes are
more than thy yeares, and whose passions are
greater then thy patience.  The blossoms of thy
youth are mixt with the frosts of envy, and the
hope of thy ensuing fruits perish in the bud. Thy
father is by Torismond banisht from the crown, and
thou the unhappy daughter of a King detained captive,
living as disquieted in thy thoughts, as thy father discontented in his exile. Ah Rosalynd, what cares wait
upon a crown: what griefs are incident to dignity?
what sorrows haunt royal pallaces: The greatest seas
have the sorest stormes, the highest birth subject to
the most bale, and of all trees the Cedars soonest shake
with the wind: smal Currents are ever calme, lowe
valleys not scortcht in any lightnings, nor base men
tyed to anie baleful prejudice. Fortune flies, and if
she touch poverty, it is with hir heele, rather disdaining their want with a frown, then envying their welth
with disparagement. Oh Rosalynd, hadst thou beei:e
born low, thou hadst not falne so high, and yet beeing
great of blood, thine honour is more, if thou brookest
misfortune with patience. Suppose I contrary fortune
with content, yet Fates unwilling to have me any waies
happy, have forced love to set my thoughts on fire
with fancie. Love, Rosalynd: becommeth it women
in distresse to thinke on love? Tush, desire hath no
respect of persons, Cupid is blind and shooteth at
random, assoone hitting a ragge, as a robe, and piercing assoone the bosome of a Captive, as the brest of
a Libertine. Thou speakest it poore Rosalynd by
experience, for being every way distrest, surcharged
with cares, and overgrowne with sorrowes, yet amidst
the heape of all these mishaps, Love hath lodged in
thy heart the perfection of yong Rosader, a man every
way absolute as wel for his inward life, as for his outVOL. II.                               C




34


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


ward lyniaments, able to content the eye with beauty,
and the eare with the reporte of his vertue. But consider Rosalynde his fortunes, and thy present estate,
thou art poore and without patrymony, and yet the
daughter of a Prince, he a yonger brother, and voyd
of such possessions as eyther might maintaine thy
dignities or revenge thy fathers injuries. And hast
thou not learned this of other Ladies, that lovers
cannot live by looks: that womens ears are sooner
content with a pound of give me, then a dram of heare
me: that gold is sweeter than eloquence: that love is
a fire, and wealth is the fewel: that Venus coffer
should be ever ful: Then Rosalynd, seeing Rosader is
poore, thinke him lesse beautiful, because hee is in
want, and account his vertues but qualities of course,
for that he is not indued with wealth. Doth not
Horace tell thee what methode is to be used in love:
Querenda pecunia primum, post nummos virtus.
Tush Rosalynd, be not over rash: leape not before
thou looke: either love such a one as may with his
landes purchase thy libertie, or els love not [at] all.
Chuse not a faire face with an empty purse, but say
as most women use to say,
Si nihil attuleris, ibis Homere foras.
Why Rosalynd, can such base thoughts harbour in
such high beauties: can the degree of a princesse, the
daughter of Gerismond harbour such servile conceites,
as to prize gold more than honor, or to measure a
Gentleman by his wealth, not by his vertues. No
Rosalynd, blush at thy base resolution, and say if thou
lovest, eyther Rosader or none. And why? because
Rosader is both beautiful and vertuous. Smiling to
her selfe to thinke of her new intertained passions,




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


35


taking up her Lute that lay by her, she warbled out
this dittie.
ROSALYNDS MADRIGALL.
Love in my bosome like a bee
Doth sucke his sweete:
Now with his wings he playes with me,
Now with his feete.
Within mine eyes he makes his nest,
His bed amidst my tender brest:
My kisses are his dayly feast,
And yet he robs me of my rest.
Ah wanton, will ye?
And if I sleepe, then pearcheth he
With pretty flight,
And makes his pillow of my knee
The livelong night.
Strike I my lute, he tunes the string,
He musicke playes if so I sing,
He lends me every lovely thing:
Yet cruell he my heart doth sting:
Whist wanton still ye!
Else I with roses every day
Will whip you hence:
And binde you when you long to play,
For your offence.
Ile shut mine eyes to keep you in,
Ile make you fast it for your sinne,
Ile count your power not worth a pinne.
Alas what hereby shall I winne,
If he gainsay me?
What if I beate the wanton boy
With many a rod?
lIe wil repay me with annoy,
Because a God.
Then sit thou safely on my knee,
And let thy bower my bosome be;
Lurke in my eies I like of thee:
O Cupid so thou pittie me,
Spare not but play thee.
Scarce had Rosalynd ended her Madrigale, before
Torismond came in with his daughter Alinda, and




36


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


many of the Peers of France, who were enamoured of
her beauty;Twhich Torismond perceiving, fearing
least her perfection might be the beginning of his
prejudice, and the hope of his fruit ende in the beginning of her blossomes, he thought to banish her from
the court: for quoth he to himselfe, her face is so ful
of favour, that it pleads pittie in the eye of every
( man: her beauty is so heavenly and devine, that she
wil prove- to me as Helen did to Priam: some one
of the Peeres wil ayme at her love, end the marriage,
and then in his wives right attempt the kingdome.
To prevent therefore had I wist in all these actions,
shee tarryes not about the Court, but shall (as an exile)
eyther wander to her father, or else seeke other fortunes. In this humour, with a sterne countenance
ful of wrath, he breathed out this censure unto her
before the. Peers, that charged her that that night
shee were not seene about the Court: for (quoth he)
I have heard of thy aspiring speeches, and intended
treasons. This doome was strange unto Rosalynd,
and presently covered with the shield of her innocence, she boldly brake out in reverent tearms to
have cleared herself; but Torismond would admit of
no reason, nor durst his Lords plead for Rosalynde,
although her beauty had made some of them passionate, seeing the figure of wrath pourtrayed in his
brow.   Standing thus all mute, and Rosalynde
amazed, Alinda, who loved her more than herself,
with griefe in her hart and teares in her eyes, falling
down on her knees, began to entreat her father
thus.
ALINDAS ORATION TO HER FATHER IN DEFENCE
OF ROSALYNDE.
If (mighty Torismond) I offend in pleading for my
friend, let the law of amitie crave pardon for my




EUPHUESi GOLDEN LEGACIE.


37


boldnesse; for where there is depth of affection, there
friendship alloweth a priviledge. Rosalynd and I have
beene fostered up from our infancies, and noursed
under the harbour of our conversing togeather with
such private familiarities, that custome had wrought
an unyon of our nature, and the sympathie of our
affections such a secret love, that we have two bodies
and one soule. Then marvell not (great Torismond)
if seeing my friend distrest, I finde myselfe perplexed
with a thousand sorrowes; for her vertuous and
honourable thoughts (which are the glories that
maketh women excellent) they be such, as may challenge love, and race out suspition; her obedience to
your Majestie, I referre to the censure of your owne
eye, that since her fathers exile hath smothered al
grifes with patience, and in the absence of nature,
hath honored you with all dutie, as her owne father by
nouriture, not in word uttering any discontent, nor in
thought (as far as conjecture may reach) hammering
on revenge; only in all her actions seeking to please
you, and to win my favor. Her wisedome, silence,
chastitie, and other such rich qualities, I need not
decypher; onely it rests for me to conclude in one
word, that she is innocent. If then, Fortune who
tryumphs in varietie of miseries, hath presented some
envious person (as minister of her intended stratageme) to tainte Rosalynde with any surmise of treason, let him be brought to her face, and confirme his
accusation by witnesses; which proved, let her die,
and Alinda will execute the massacre. If none can
avouch any confirmed relation of her intent, use
Justice my lord, it is the glory of a King, and let her
live in your wonted favour; for if you banish her, my-'  -
selfe as copartner of her harde fortunes, will participate in exile some part of her extremities.
Torismond (at this speech of Alinda) covered his
face with such a frown, as tyranny seemed to sit




38


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


triumphant in his forhead, and checkt her with such
taunts, as made the lords (that only were hearers) to
tremble. Proude girle (quoth he) hath my looks made
thee so light of toong, or my favours incouraged thee
to bee so forward, that thou darest presume to preach
after thy father? Hath not my yeares more experience than thy youth, and the winter of mine age
deeper insight into civil policie, than the prime of
thy florishing dayes?  The olde Lion avoides the
toyles, where the yoong one leapes into the nette:
the care of age is provident and foresees much:
suspition is a vertue, where a man holdes his enemie
in his bosome. Thou fond girle, measureth all by
present affection, and as thy heart loves, thy thoughts
censure; but if thou knewest that in liking Rosalynd
thou hatchest up a bird to pecke out thine owne
eyes, thou wouldst intreat as much for hir absence as
now thou delightest in her presence. But why doe I
alleadge policie to thee? sit you downe huswife and
fall to your needle: if idlenes make you so wanton,
or libertie so malipert, I can quickly tye you to a
sharper taske. And you (mayd) this night be packing, eyther into Arden to your father, or whither best
it shall content your humour, but in the Court you
shall not abide. This rigorous replie of Torismond
nothing amazed Alinda, for stil she prosecuted her
plea in defence of Rosalynd, wishing her Father (if
his censure might not be reverst) that he would
appoynt her partner of her exile; which if he refused,
eyther she would by some secret meanes steale out
and followe her, or else ende her dayes with some
desperate kind of death. When Torismond heard
his daughter so resolute, his heart was so hardened
against her, that he sent down a definitive and
peremptory sentence, that they should both be
banished, which presently was done.  The tyrant
rather choosing to hazard the losse of his onely child




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGA CIE.


39


than any ways to put in question the state of his
kingdome; so suspitious and fearfull is the conscience
of an usurper. Wel although his lords perswaded
him to retaine his owne daughter, yet his resolution
might not be reverst, but both of them must away
from the Court without eyther more company or
delay. In hee went with great melancholy, and left
these two Ladyes alone. Rosalynd waxed very sad,
and sate downe and wept. Alinda she smiled, and
sitting by her friend began thus to comfort her.
ALINDAS COMFORT TO PERPLEXED ROSALYND.
Why how now Rosalynd, dismayd with a frowne of
contrary fortune?  Have I not oft heard thee say,
that hygh mindes were discovered in fortunes contempt, and heroycal seene in the depth of extremities? Thou wert wont to tel others that complained
of distresse, that the sweetest salve for misery was
patience, and the onely medicine for want, that pre-!
tious implaister of content: being such a good Phisition to others, wilt thou not minister receipts to thy
selfe? But perchance thou wilt say,
Consulenti nunquam caput doluit.
Why then, if the Patients that are sicke of this disease can finde in themselves neither reason to perswade, nor art to cure, yet (Rosalynd) admit of the
counsaile of a friend, and applie the salves that may
appease thy passions. If thou grievest that being the
daughter of a prince, and envy thwarteth thee with
such hard exigents, thinke that royaltie is a faire
marke, that Crowns have crosses when mirth is in
Cottages; that the fairer the Rose is, the sooner it is
bitten with Caterpillers; the more orient the Pearle
is, the more apt to take a blemish; and the greatest
birth, as it hath most honour, so it hath much envy.
If then fortune aymeth at the fairest, be patient Rosa



40


0 EUP HUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


lynd, for first by thine exile thou goest to thy father,
nature is higher prised then wealth, and the love of
ones parents ought to bee more pretious then all dignities: Why then doth my Rosalynd grieve at the
frowne of Torismond, who by offering her a prejudice
proffers her a greater pleasure? and more (mad lasse)
to be melancholy, when thou hast with thee Alinda
a friend, who wil be a faithful copartner of al thy misfortunes, who hath left her father to follow thee, and
chooseth rather to brooke al extremities then to forsake thy presence. What Rosalynd,
Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris.
Cheerly woman: as wee have been bedfellowes in
royaltie, we wil be felow mates in povertie: I wil ever
be thy Alinda, and thou shalt ever rest to me Rosalynd: so shall the world canonize our friendship, and
speake of Rosalynd and Alinda, as they did of Pilades
and Orestes. And if ever fortune smile and we returne to our former honour, then folding our selves
in the sweete of our friendship, we shal merily say
(calling to mind our forepassed miseries)
Olim haec meminisse juvabit.
At this Rosalynd began to comfort her, and after
shee had wept a fewe kinde teares in the bosome of
her Alinda, shee gave her heartie thankes, and then
they sat them downe to consult how they should
travel. Alinda grieved at nothing but that they might
have no man in their company: saying, it would bee
their greatest prejudice in that two women went wandring without either guide or attendant. Tush (quoth
Rosalynd) art thou a woman, and hast not a sodeine
shift to prevent a misfortune? I (thou seest) am of, a tall stature, and would very wel become the person
and apparrel of a Page: thou shalt bee my mistresse,
and I wil play the man so properly, that (trust me)




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


4I


in what company so ever I come I will not be discovered: I wil buy me a suite, and have my Rapier
very handsomly at my side, and if any knave offer
wrong, your Page wil shew him the poynt of his
weapon. At this Alinda smiled, and upon this they
agreed, and presently gathered up all their Jewels,/
which they trussed up in a Casket, and Rosalynd in
all hast provided her of robes, and Alinda being called
Aliena, and Rosalynd Ganimede: they traveiled along
the Vineyardes, and by many by-waies: at last got to
the Forrest side, where they traveiled by the space of
two or three dayes without seeing anye creature, being
often in danger of wilde beasts, and payned with
many passionate sorrowes.  Now the black Oxe
began to tread on their feet, and Alinda thought of
her wonted royaltie; but when she cast her eyes on
her Rosalynd, she thought every daunger a step to
honour. Passing thus on along, about midday they
came to a Fountaine, compast with a groave of
Cipresse trees, so cunningly and curiously planted, as
if some Goddesse had intreated Nature in that place
to make her an Arbour.   By this Fountaine sat
Aliena and her Ganimede, and forth they pulled such
victuals as they had, and fedde as merely as if they
had been in Paris with all the Kings delicates:
Aliena onely grieving that they could not so much as
meete with a shepheard to discourse them the way to
some place where they might make their abode. At
last Ganimede casting up his eye espied where on a L ---
tree was ingraven certaine verses; which assoone as he
espied, he cryed out, be of good cheare Mistresse: I
spie the figures of men; for heere in these trees bee
ingraven certaine verses of shepheards, or some other
swaines that inhabite here about. With that Aliena
start up joyful to hear these newes, and looked, where
they found carved in the barke of a Pine tree this
passion.




42


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


MONTANUS PASSION.
Hadst thou been borne wher as perpetuall cold
Makes Tanais hard, and mountaines silver old:
Had I complainde unto a marble stone,
Or to the flouds bewraide my bitter mone,
I then could beare the burthen of my griefe:
But even the pride of Countries at thy birth,
Whilste heavens did smile did new aray the earth
With flowers chiefe,
Yet thou the flower of beautie blessed borne,
Hast pretie lookes, but all attirde in scorne.
Had I the power to weep sweet Mirrhas teares,
Or by my plaints to pearce repining eares:
Hadst thou the heart to smile at my complaint,
To scorne the woes that doth my hart attaint,
I then could beare the burthen of my griefe:
But not my tears, but truth with thee prevailes,
And seeming sowre my sorowes thee assailes:
Yet small releife,
For if thou wilt thou art of marble hard:
And if thou please my suite shall soone be heard.
No doubt (quoth Aliena) this poesie is the passion
of some perplexed shepheard, that being enamoured
of some faire and beautifull Shepheardesse, suffered
some sharpe repulse, and therfore complained of the
crueltie of his Mistresse. You may see (quoth Ginimede) what mad cattel you women be, whose harts
sometimes are made of Adamant that wil touch with
no impression, and sometimes of wax that is fit for
every forme: they delight to be courted, and then
they glory to seeme coy, and when they are most desired then they freese with disdaine: and this fault is
so common to the sex, that you see it painted out in
the shepheardes passions, who found his Mistres as froward as he was enamoured. And I pray you (quoth
Aliena) if your -robes were off, what mettal are you
made of that you are so satyrical against women? is
it not a foule bird that defiles his 1 own nest? Beware
1 [The in text.




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


43


(Ganimede) that Rosader heare you not, if hee doo,
perchance you wil make him leape so farre from love,
that he wil anger every vaine in your heart. Thus
(quoth Ganimede) I keepe decorum, I speak now as
I am Alienas Page, not as I am Gerismonds daughter;
for put mee but into a peticoat, and I wil stand in
defiance to the uttermost, that women are curteous,
constant, vertuous, and what not. Stay there (quoth
Aliena) and no more words, for yonder be Caracters
graven uppon the barke of the tall Beech tree. Let
us see (quoth Ganimede): and with this they read a
fancy written to this effect.
First shall the heavens want starry light,
The seas be robbed of their waves
The day want sunne, and sunne want bright,
The night want shade, the dead men' graves.
The April, flowers and leaf and tree,
Before I false my faith to thee.
First shall the tops of highest hils
By humble plaines be overpride
And Poets scorne the Muses quils,
And fish forsake the water glide.
And Iris loose her coloured weed,
Before I faile thee at thy need.2
First direfull hate shall tulne to peace,
And love relent in deep disdain:
And death hi5 fatall stroake shall cease,
And envy pitie every paine,
And pleasure mourn, and sorow smile,
Before I talke of any guile.
First time shall stay his staylesse race,
And winter blesse his browes with corne:
And snow bemoysten Julies face,
And winter spring, and summer mourn,
Before my pen by helpe of fame,
Cease to recite thy sacred name. MONTANUS.
1 [Edit. 1592, mens.]
2 [In the edit. of 1592, a stanza follows which, by an odd sort
of misprint, the compositor inserted, making it up from parts of
stanzas 2 and 3. In the edit. of I598 the mistake is rectified.
-Collier ]




44


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


No doubt (quoth Ganimede) this protestation grew
from one full of passions. I am of that minde too
(quoth Aliena) but see I pray, when poore women
seeke to keepe themselves chaste, how men woo them
with many fained promises; alluring with sweet
words as the Syrens, and after prooving as trothlesse
as AEneas. Thus promised Demophoon to his Phillis, but who at last grew more false? The reason was
(quoth Ganimede) that they were womens sonnes,
and tooke that fault of their mother, for if man had
growne from man, as Adam did from the earth, men
had never been troubled with inconstancie. Leave
off (quoth Aliena) to taunt thus bitterly, or els Ile pull
off your pages apparrell and whip you (as Venus doth
her wantons) with nettles. So you will (quoth Ganimede) perswade mee to flattery, and that needs not:
but come (seeing we have found here by this Fount
the tract of Shepheardes by their Madrigalles and
Roundelaies) let us forwarde; for either wee shall
finde some foldes, sheepcoates, or els some cottages
wherin for a day or two to rest. Content (quoth
Aliena) and with that they rose up, and marched forward till towards the even: and then comming into a
faire valley (compassed with mountaines, whereon
grew many pleasaunt shrubbes) they might descrie
where two flockes of sheepe did feed. Then, looking
about, they might perceive where an old shepheard
sate (and with him a yoong swaine) under a covert
most pleasantly scituated. The ground where they
sate was diapred with Floras riches, as if she ment to
wrap Tellus in the glorie of her vestments: round
about in the forme of an Amphitheater were most
curiously planted Pine trees, interseamed with Lymons
and Cytrons, which with the thicknesse of their
boughes so shadowed the place, that Phoebus could
not prie into the secret of that Arbour, so united were
the tops with so thick a closure, that Venus might




E UPHUES GOLDEN LEGA CIE.


45


there in her jollitie have dallied unseene with her
deerest paramour. Fast by (to make the place more
gorgious) was there a Fount so Christalline and cleere,
that it seemed Diana with her Driades and Hemadriades had that spring, as the secret of all their
bathings.  In this glorious Arbour satte these two
shepheardes (seeing their sheepe feede) playing on
their Pipes many pleasant tunes, and from musicke
and melodie falling into much amorous chat: drawing
more nigh we might descry the countenance of the
one to be full of sorrow, his face to bee the very pourtraiture of discontent, and his eyes full of woes, that
living he seemed to dye: we (to heare what these
were) stole privily behinde the thicke, where we overheard this discourse.
A  PLEASANT EGLOG BETWEEN MONTANUS ANI)
CORIDON.
Cor. Say shepheards boy, what makes thee greet1 so sore?
Why leaves thy pipe his pleasure and delight?
Yoong are thy yeares, thy cheeks with Roses dight:
Then sing for joy (sweet swain) and sigh no more.
This milk-white Poppy, and this climbing Pine
Both promise shade, then sit thee downe and sing,
And make these woods with pleasant notes to ring,
Till Phoebus daine all Westward to decline.
Mon. Ah (Coiidon) unmeet is melody
To him whom proud contempt hath overborn,
Slain are my joyes by Phoebus bitter scorn,
Far hence my weale and nere my jeopardy.
Loves burning brand is couched in my brest,
Making a Phoenix of my faintfull hart:
And though his fury doo inforce my smart,
Ay blyth am I to honour his behest.
1 i.e., cry so sore. This pastoral has several other archaisms,
as lorell, terry, for-thi, and is obviously written in imitation of
Spenser.-Collier.




46


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


Preparde to woes since so my Phoebe wils,
My lookes dismaid since Phoebe will disdain;
I banish blisse and welcome home my pain,
So stream my teares as showers from Alpine hills.
In errors maske I blindfold judgements eye,
I fetter reason in the snares of lust,
I seeme secure, yet know not how to trust,
I live by that, which makes me living dye.
Devoyd of rest, companion of distresse,
Plague to myselfe, consumed by my thought,
How may my voyce or pipe in tune be brought?
Since I am reft of solace and delight.
Cor. Ah Lorrell lad, what makes thee Herry love?
A sugred harme, a poyson full of pleasure,
A painted shrine full-fild with rotten treasure,
A heaven in shew, a hell to them that prove.
A gaine, in seeming shadowed stil with want,
A broken staffe which follie doth upholde,
A flower that fades with everie frostie colde,
An orient Rose sprong from a withred plant.
A minutes joy to gaine a world of griefe,
A subtil net to snare the idle minde,
A seeing Scorpion, yet in seeming blinde,
A poore rejoice, a plague without reliefe.
For thy Montanus follow mine arreede,
(Whom age hath taught the traines that fancy useth)
Leave foolish love, for beautie wit abuseth,
And drownes (by folly) vertues springing seede.
Mon. So blames the childe the flame, because it burnes,
And bird the snare, because it doth intrap,
And fooles true love, because of sorry hap,
And saylers cursse the ship that overturnes.
But would the childe forbeare to play with flame,
And birds beware to trust the fowlers gin,
And fooles foresee before they fall and sin,
And maisters guide their ships in better frame.
The childe would praise the fire, because it warmes,
And birds rejoyce, to see the fowler faile,
And fooles prevent, before their plagues prevaile,
And saylers blesse the barke that saves from harmes.




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


47


Ah Coridon, though many be thy yeares,
And crooked elde hath some experience left,
Yet is thy mind of judgement quite bereft,
In view of love, whose power in me appeares.
The ploughman litle wots to turn the pen,
Or bookeman skils to guide the ploughmans cart,
Nor can the cobler count the tearmes of Art,
Nor base men judge the thoughts of mighty men.
Nor withered age (unmeet for beauties guide,
Uncapable of loves impression)
Discourse of that, whose choyce possession
May never to so base a man be tied.
But I (whom nature makes of tender mold,
And youth most pliant yeelds to fancies fire)
Do build my haven and heaven on sweet desire,
On sweet desire more deere to me than gold.
Thinke I of love, O how my lines aspire!
How hast the Muses to imbrace my browes,
And hem my temples in with lawrell bowes,
And fill my braines with chast and holy fire!
Then leave my lines their homely equipage,
Mounted beyond the circle of the Sunne:
Amazed I read the stile when I have done,
And Herry Love that sent that heavenly rage.
Of Phoebe then, of Phoebe then I sing,
Drawing the puritie of all the spheares,
The pride of earth, or what in heaven appeares,
Her honoured face and fame to light to bring.
In fluent numbers and in pleasant vaines,
I robbe both sea and earth of all their state,
To praise her parts: I charme both time and fate,
To bless the Nymph that yeelds me love sicke paines.
My Sheepe are turned to thoughts, whom forward will
Guydes in the restles Laborynth of love,
Feare lends them pasture whereso ere they move,
And by their death their life renueth still.
My sheephooke is my pen, mine oaten reed,
My paper, where my many woes are written:
Thus silly swaine (with love and fancie bitten)
I trace the plaines of paine in wofull weed.




48


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


Yet are my cares, my broken sleepes, my teares,
My dreames, my doubts, for Phoebe sweet to me:
Who wayteth heaven in sorrowes vale must be,
And glory shines where daunger most appeares.
Then Coridon although I blith me not,
Blame me not man since sorrow is my sweet:
So willeth Love, and Phoebe thinkes it meet,
And kind Montanus liketh well his lot.
Co;l. Oh staylesse youth, by errour so misguided,
Where will prescribeth lawes to perfect wits,
Where reason mournes, and blame in triumph sits,
And folly poysoneth all that time provided.
With wilfull blindnesse bleard, prepard to shame,
Prone to neglect Occasion when she smiles:
Alas that Love by fond and froward guiles,
Should make thee tract the path to endlesse blame.
Ah (my Montanus) cursed is the charme,
That hath bewitched so thy youthfull eyes:
Leave off in time to like these vanities,
Be forward to thy good, and fly thy harme.
As many bees as Hibla daily shields,
As many frie as fleet on Oceans face,
As many heards as on the earth do trace,
As many flowers as decke the fragrant fields,
As many stars as glorious heaven contains,
As many storms as wayward winter weepes,
As many plagues as hell inclosed keepes,
So many griefs in love, so many pains.
Suspitions, thoughts, desires, opinions, prayers;
Mislikes, misdeedes, fond joies, and fained peace,
Illusions, dreames, great paines, and small increase,
Vowes, hope, acceptance, scorns, and deep despaires.
Truce, warre, and wo do wait at beauties gate.
Time lost, laments, reports, and privy grudge,
And lust: fierce Love is but a partiall Judge,
Who yeelds for service shame, for friendship hate.
lMon. All adder-like I stop mine eares (fond swaine)
So charme no more, for I will never change.
Call home thy flocks betime that stragling range
For loe, the Sunne declineth hence amaine.




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


49


Ter. In amore hoec insunt vitia: inducine, inimicitie, bellum,
pax rursum: incerta hec si tu postules, ratione certa fieri nihilo
plus agas, quam fides operam, ut cum ratione insanias.
The shepheards having thus ended their Eglogue,
Aliena stept with Ganimede from behind the thicket;
at whose sodayne sight the shepheards arose, and
Aliena saluted them thus: Shepheards all haile (for
such wee deeme you by your flockes) and Lovers good
lucke, (for such you seeme by your passions) our eyes
being witnesse of the one, and our eares of the other.
Although not by Love, yet by Fortune, I am a distressed Gentlewoman, as sorrowfull as you are passionate, and as full of woes as you of perplexed thoughts:
wandring this way in a forrest unknown, onely I and
my Page, wearied with travel, would faine have some
place of rest. May you appoint us any place of quiet
harbour (bee it never so meane) I shall bee thankfull to
you, contented in my selfe, and gratefull to whosoever
shall be mine Host.  Coridon hearing the Gentlewoman speake so courteously returned her mildly and
reverentely this answere:
Faire Mistresse, wee returne you as hearty a welcome as you gave us a courteous salute. A shepheard
I am, and this a lover, as watchful to please his wench,
as to feed his sheep: ful of fancies, and therefore say
I, full of follyes. Exhort him I may, but perswade
him I cannot; for Love admits neither of counsaile,
nor reason. But leaving him to his passions, if you
be distrest, I am sorrowfull such a faire creature is
crost with calamitie: pray for you I may, but releeve
you I cannot: marry if you want lodging, if you vouch
to shrowd your selves in a shepheards cottage, my
house for this night shall be your harbour. Aliena
thankt Coridon greatly, and presently sate her downe
and Ganimede by hir.    Coridon looking earnestly
upon her, and with a curious survey viewing all her
VOL. II.                                D




50


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


perfections, applauded (in his thought) her excellence,
and pitying her distresse, was desirous to heare the
cause of her misfortunes, began to question her thus.
If I should not (faire Damosell) occasionate offence,
or renew your griefs by rubbing the scar, I would
faine crave so much favour, as to know the cause of
your misfortunes: and why, and whither you wander
with your page in so dangerous forest? Aliena (that
was as courteous as she was fayre) made this replie:
Shepheard, a friendly demaund ought never to be
offensive, and questions of curtesie carry priviledged
pardons in their forheads. Know therefore, to discover my fortunes were to renew my sorrowes, and I
should by discoursing my mishaps, but rake fire out
of the cynders. Therefore let this suffice gentle shepheard: my distresse is as great as my travaile is daungerous, and I wander in this forrest to light on some
cotage where I and my page may dwell: for I meane
to buy some Farme, and a flocke of sheepe, and so
become a shepheardesse, meaning to live low, and
content mee with a country life: for I have heard the
swaines saye, that they drunke without suspition, and
slept without care. Marry mistress, quoth Coridon,
if you meane so you came in good time, for my Landslord intends to sell both the Farme I tyll, and the
flocke I keepe, and cheape you may have them for
ready money: and for a shepheards life (oh Mistres)
did you but live a while in their content, you would
say the court were rather a place of sorrow then of
solace. Here mistresse shal not fortune thwart you,
but in mean misfortunes, as the losse of a few sheepe,
which, as it breedes no beggery, so it can bee no extreame prejudice: the next yeare may mend all with
a fresh increase. Envy stirres not us, we covet not to
climbe, our desires mount not above our degrees, nor
our thoughts above our fortunes. Care cannot harbour in our cottages, nor doe our homely couches




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


5r


know broken slumbers: as wee exceed not in1 dyet,
so we have inough to satisfie: and Mistresse, I have
so much Latin, Satis est quod szfcit.
By my trueth shepheard (quoth Aliena) thou makest
mee in love with your countrey life, and therfore send
for thy Landslord, and I will buy thy Farme and thy
focks, and thou shalt still under me bee overseer of
them both: onely for pleasure sake, I and my Page
will serve you, lead the flocks to the field, and folde
them: Thus will I live quiet, unknowne, and contented. This newes so gladded the hart of Coridon,
that he should not be put out of his farme, that putting off his shepheards bonnet, he did hir all the
reverence that he might.  But all this while sate
Montanus in a muse, thinking of the crueltie of his
Phoebe, whom he wooed long, but was in no hope to
win. Ganimede who stil had the remembrance of
Rosader in his thoughtes, tooke delight to see the
poore shepheard passionate, laughing at love, that in
all his actions was so imperious. At last when she
had noted his teares that stole down his cheeks, and
his sighes that broke from the center of his heart,
pittying his lament, she demanded of Coridon why
the yong shepheard looked so sorrowfull?  Oh sir
(quoth he) the boy is in love.  Why (quoth Ganimede) can shepheards love? I (quoth Montanus)
and overlove, els shouldst not thou see me so pensive.
Love I tell thee, is as pretious in a shepheards eye,
as in the lookes of a King, and we cuntry swains
intertaine fancie with as great delight as the proudest
Courtier doth affection.  Opportunity (that is the
sweetest friend to Venus) harboureth in our cottages,
and loyaltie (the chiefest fealty that Cupid requireth)
is found more among shepheardes than higher degrees.
Then aske not if suche silly swains can love? What
1 [Old copy, i/l.




52


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


is the cause then, quoth Ganimede, that Love being
so sweet to thee, thou lookest so sorrowfull? Because
quoth Montanus, the party beloved is froward: and
having curtesie in her lookes, holdeth disdaine in her
tongues ende. What hath she then, quoth Aliena,
in heart?  Desire (I hope Madame) quoth he: or
else my hope lost, despaire in Love were death. As
thus they chatted, the Sunne beeing ready to set, and
they not having folded their sheepe, Coridon requested
she would sit there with her Page, till Montanus and
hee lodged theyr sheepe for that night. You shall
goe quoth Aliena, but first I will intreate Montanus
to sing some amorous Sonnet that hee made when he
hath beene deeply passionate.     That I will quoth
Montanus, and with that he began thus:
MONTANUS SONNET.
Phoebe sate,
Sweet she sate,
Sweet sate Phoebe when I saw her,
White her brow,
Coy her eye:
Brow and eye how much you please me!
Words I spent,
Sighes I sent;
Sighs and words could never draw hir.
Oh my love,
Thou art lost,
Since no sight could ever ease thee.
Phoebe sat
By a fount,
Sitting by a fount I spide her:
Sweet her touch,
Rare hir voyce:
Touch and voice what may distain you
As she sung,
I did sigh,
And by sighs whilst that I tride her,
Oh mine eyes
You did loose
Hir first sight and whose want did pain you.




EUPH UES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


53


Phoebes flockes,
White as wooll,
Yet were Phoebes locks more whiter.
Phoebes eyes
Dovelike mild,
Dovelike eyes, both mild and cruell.
Montan sweares,
In your lanpes
He will die for to delight her.
Phoebe yeeld,
Or I die:
Shall true hearts be fancies fuell?
Montanus had no sooner ended his sonnet, but
Coridon with a lowe curtesie rose up, and went with
his fellow, and shut their sheepe in the folds; and
after returning to Aliena and Ganimede, conducted
them home weary to his poore cottage. By the waye
there was much good chat with Montanus about his
loves, hee resolving Aliena that Phoebe was the
fairest Shepherdice in al France, and that in his eye
her beautie was equal with the Nimphs. But quoth
he, as of all stones the Diamond is most cleerest, and
yet most hard for the Lapidorie to cut, as of all
flowres, the Rose is the fairest, and yet guarded with
the sharpest prickles: so of al our country lasses
Phoebe is the brightest, and the most coy of all to
stoop unto desire.  But let her take heed quoth he,
I have heard of Narcissus, who for his high disdain
against Love, perished in the folly of his owne love.
With this they were at Coridons Cottage, where
Montanus parted from them, and they went in to rest.
Alienal and Ganimede glad of so contented a shelter,
made merry with the poore swaine; and though they
had but countrey fare and course lodging, yet their
welcome was so greate, and their cares so little, that
they counted their diet delicate, and slept as soundly
as if they had beene in the court of Torismond. The
1 Alinda in text.




54


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


next morne they lay long in bed, as wearyed with the
toyle of unaccustomed travaile; but assoone as they
got up, Aliena resolved there to set up her rest, and
by the helpe of Coridon swapt a bargaine with his
Landslord, and so became mistres of the farme and
the flocke: her selfe putting on the attyre of the
shepherdesse, and Ganimede of a yong swaine: everye
day leading foorth her flockes, with such delight, that
she held her exile happy, and thoght no content to
the blisse of a Countrey cottage.  Leaving her thus
famous amongst the shepheards of Arden, againe to
Saladyne.
When Saladyne had a long while concealed a
secrete resolution of revenge, and could no longer
hide fire in the flax, nor oyle in the flame: (for envy
is like lightning, that will appeare in the darkest fog)
it chaunced on a morning very early he cald up
certain of his servants, and went with them to the
chamber of Rosader, which being open, hee entred
with his crue, and surprized his brother when he was
a sleepe, and bound him in fetters, and in the midst
of his hall chained him to a post. Rosader amazed
at this strange chaunce, began to reason with his
brother about the cause of this sodaine extremity,
wherin he had wrongd, and what fault he had
committed worthy so sharpe a penance. Saladyne
answered him onely with a looke of disdain, and
went his way, leaving poore Rosader in a deeepe
perplexity.  Who thus abused, fell into sundry
passions, but no means of releefe could be had:
wherupon for anger he grew into a discontented
melancholy. In which humour he continued two or
three daies without meat: insomuch that seeing his
brother would give him no food, he fel in despaire of
his life. Which Adam Spencer the old servant of
Sir John of Bourdeaux seeing, touched with the dutie
and love hee ought to his olde maister, felt a remorse




EUPH UES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


55


in his conscience of his sonnes mishap; and therefore, although Saladyne had given a generall charge
to his servants, that none of them upon pain of death
should give either meat or drink to Rosader, yet
Adam Spencer in the night rose secretly, and brought
him such victuals as he could provide, and unlockt
him, and set him at liberty. After Rosader had well
feasted himselfe, and felt he was loose, straight his
thoughts aymed at revenge, and now (all being a
sleepe) hee would have quit Saladyne with the
methode of his own mischiefe. But Adam Spencer
did perswade him to the contrary with these reasons:
Sir quoth hee, bee content, for this night go againe
into your olde fetters, so shall you trie the faith of
friends, and save the life of an old servant. Tomorrow
hath your brother invited al your kinred and allyes
to a solempne breakefast, onely to see you, telling.them all that you are mad, and faine to be tied to a
poast. Assoone as they come complain to them of
the abuse proffered you by Saladyne. If they redresse
you, why so: but if they passe over your playntes,
sicco pede, and hold with the violence of your
brother before your innocence, then thus: I will
leave you unlockt that you may breake out at your
pleasure, and at the ende of the hall shall you see
stand a couple of good pollaxes, one for you and
another for mee. When I give you a wincke, shake
off your chaines, and let us plaie the men, and make
havocke amongst them, drive them out of the house
and maintaine possession by force of armes, till the
King hath made a redresse of your abuses.
These wordes of Adam Spencer so perswaded
Rosader, that he went to the place of his punishment,
and stood there while the next morning. About the
time appointed, came all the guestes bidden by Saladyne, whom hee intreated with curteous and curious
entertainment, as they all perceived their welcome to




56


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


be great. The tables in the hall where Rosader was
tyed, were covered, and Saladyne bringing his guests
togither, shewed them where his brother was bound,
and was inchainde as a man lunaticke.  Rosader
made reply, and with some invectives made complaintes of the wrongs proffered him by Saladyne,
desiring they would in pitie seeke some meanes for
his reliefe. But in vaine, they had stopt their eares
with Ulisses, that were his words never so forceable,
he breathed onely his passions into the winde. They
carelesse, sat downe with Saladyne to dinner, beeing
very frolicke and pleasant, washing their heades well
with wine. At last, when the fume of the grape had
entered peale meale into their braines, they began in
satyricall speeches to raile against Rosader: which
Adam Spencer no longer brooking, gave the signe,
and Rosader shaking off his chaines got a pollaxe in
his hande, and flew amongst them with such violence
and fury, that he hurt many, slew some, and drave his
brother and all the rest quite out of the house. Seeing
the coast cleare, he shut the doores, and being sore
an hungred, and seeing such good victuals, he sat
him downe with Adam Spencer, and such good
fellowes as he knew were honest men, and there
feasted themselves with such provision as Saladyne
had provided for his friendes. After they had taken
their repast, Rosader rampierd up the house, least
upon a sodeine his brother should raise some crew of
his tennants, and surprise them unawares. But Saladyne tooke a contrary course, and went to the
Sheriffe of the shire and made complaint of Rosader,
who giving credite to Saladyne, in a determined resolution to revenge the Gentlemans wrongs, tooke
with him five and twentie tall men, and made a vow,
either to breake into the house and take Rosader, or
else to coope him in till hee made him yeeld by famine.
In this determination, gathering a crue togither, hee




EUPTtUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


57


went forward to set Saladyne in his former estate.
Newes of this was brought unto Rosader, who smiling at the cowardize of his brother, brookt al the injuries of fortune with patience expecting the comnming of the Sheriffe. As he walkt upon the battlements of the house, he descryed where Saladyne and
he drew neare, with a troope of lustie gallants. At
this he smilde, and calde Adam Spencer, and shewed
him the envious treacherie of his brother, and the
folly of the Sheriffe to bee so credulous: now Adam,
quoth he, what shall I do? It rests for me, either to
yeeld up the house to my brother and seek a reconcilement, or els issue out, and breake through the
company with courage, for coopt in like a coward I
will not bee. If I submit (ah Adam) I dishonor my
selfe, and that is worse then death, for by such open
disgraces, the fame of men growes odious: if I issue
out amongst them, fortune may favour mee, and I may
escape with life; but suppose the worst: if I be
slaine, then my death shall be honorable to me, and
so inequall a revenge infamous to Saladyne. Why
then Maister forward and feare not, out amongst
them, they bee but faint hearted lozels, and for Adam
Spencer, if hee die not at your foote, say hee is a
dastard.
These words cheered up so the heart of yong
Rosader, that he thought himselfe sufficient for them
al, and therefore prepared weapons for him and Adam
Spencer, and were readie to entertaine the Sheriffe;
for no sooner came Saladyne and he to the gates,
but Rosader unlookt for leapt out and assailed them,
wounded many of them, and caused the rest to give
backe, so that Adam and he broke through the prease
in despite of them all, and tooke their way towards
the forrest of Arden. This repulse so set the Sheriffs
hart on fire to revenge, that he straight raised all the
country, and made Hue and Crie after them. But




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


Rosader and Adam knowing full well the secret waies
that led through the vineyards, stole away privily
through the province of Bourdeaux, and escaped safe
to the forrest of Arden. Being come thether, they were
glad they had so good a harbor: but fortune (who is
like the Camelion) variable with every object, and
constant in nothing but inconstancie, thought to
make them myrrours of her mutabilitie, and therefore
still crost them thus contrarily. Thinking still to
passe on by the bywaies to get to Lions, they chanced
on a path that led into the thicke of the forrest, where
they wandred five or sixe dayes without meate, that
they were almost famished, finding neither shepheard
nor cottage to relieve them; and hunger growing on
so extreame, Adam Spencer (being olde) began to
faint, and sitting him downe on a hill, and looking
about him, espied where Rosader laye as feeble and
as ill perplexed: which sight made him shedde teares,
and to fall into these bitter tearmes.
ADAM SPENCERS SPEECH.
Oh how the life of man may well bee compared to
the state of the Ocean seas, that for every calme
hath a thousand storms, resembling the Rose tree,
that for a few flowers, hath a multitude of sharp
prickles: all our pleasures ende in paine, and our
highest delightes, are crossed with deepest discontents. The joyes of man, as they are few, so are
they momentarie, scarce ripe before they are rotten:
and withering in the blossome, either parched with
the heate of envy, or fortune. Fortune, oh inconstant friend, that in all thy deedes art froward and
fickle, delighting in the povertie of the lowest, and
the overthrow of the highest, to decypher thy inconstancy. Thou standest upon a globe, and thy wings
are plumed with times feathers, that thou maist ever




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


59


be restlesse: thou art double faced like Janus, carrying
frownes in the one to threaten, and smiles in the
other to betray: thou profferest an Eele, and performest a Scorpion, and wher thy greatest favours be,
there is the feare of the extreamest misfortunes, so
variable are all thy actions. But why Adam doest
thou exclaime against Fortune? she laughes at the
plaintes of the distressed: and there is nothing more
pleasing unto her, then to heare fooles boast in her
fading allurements, or sorrowfull men to discover the
sower of their passions. Glut her not Adam then
with content, but thwart her with brooking all mishappes with patience. For there is no greater check
to the pride of fortune, then with a resolute courage
to passe over her crosses without care. Thou art old
Adam, and thy hairs waxe white: the Palme tree is
alreadie full of bloomes, and in the furrowes of thy
face appeares the Kalenders of death! Wert thou
blessed by fortune thy yeares could not bee many,
nor the date of thy life long: then sith Nature must
have her due, what is it for thee to resigne her debt a
little before the day.  Ah, it is not that which
grieveth mee, nor do I care what mishaps fortune can
wage against mee: but the sight of Rosader, that
galleth unto the quicke.  When I remember the
worships of his house, the honour of his fathers, and
the vertues of himselfe: then doo I say, that fortune
and the fates are most injurious, to censure so hard
extreames, against a youth of so great hope. Oh
Rosader, thou art in the flower of thine age, and in
the pride of thy yeares, buxsome and full of May.
Nature hath prodigally inricht thee with her favours,
and vertue made thee the myrrour of her excellence;
and now, through the decree of the unjust starres,
to have all these good partes nipped in the blade,
and blemisht by the inconstancie of fortune! Ah
Rosader, coulde I helpe thee, my greife were the




60


EUPH UES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


lesse, and happie should my death be, if it might bee
the beginning of thy reliefe: but seeing we perish
both in one extreame, it is a double sorrow. What
shall I do? prevent the sight of his further misfortune with a present dispatch of mine owne life? Ah,
despaire is a merciless sinne.
As he was readie to go forward in his passion, he
looked earnestly on Rosader, and seeing him chaunge
colour, hee rose up and went to him, and holding his
temples, said, What cheere maister? though all faile,
let not the heart faint: the courage of a man is shewed
in the resolution of his death. At these wordes Rosader lifted up his eye, and looking on Adam Spencer
began to weep. Ah Adam quoth he, I sorrow not to
dye, but I grieve at the maner of my death. Might I
with my Launce encounter the enemy, and so die in
the field, it were honour, and content: might I (Adam)
combate with some wilde beast, and perish as his
praie, I were satisfied; but to die with hunger, 0
Adam, it is the extreamest of all extreames. Maister
(quoth hee) you see we are both in one predicament,
and long I cannot live without meate, seeing therefore we can finde no foode, let the death of the one
preserve the life of the other. I am old, and overworne with age, you are yoong, and are the hope of
many honours: let me then dye, I will presently cut
my veynes, and maister with the warme blood relieve
your fainting spirites: sucke on that till I ende, and
you be comforted.  With that Adam Spencer was
ready to pull out his knife, when Rosader full of
courage (though verie faint) rose up, and wisht A.
Spencer to sit there til his returne; for my mind gives
me quoth he, I shall bring thee meate. With that, like
a mad man he rose up, and raunged up and downe the
woods, seeking to encounter some wilde beast with
his Rapier, that either he might carry his friend Adam
food, or els pledge his life in pawn for his loyaltie. It




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


chaunced 1 that day, that Gerismond the lawfull King
of France banished by Torismond, who with a lustie
crue of Outlawes lived in that Forrest, that day in
honour of his birth made a feast to all his bolde yeomen, and frolickt it with store of wine and venison,
sitting all at a long table under the shadow of Lymon
trees. To that place by chance Fortune conducted
Rosader, who seeing such a crue of brave men, having
store of that for want of which hee and Adam perished,
hee stept boldly to the boords end, and saluted the
company thus:Whatsoever thou be that art maister of these lustie
squiers, I salute thee as graciously as a man in extreame distresse may: know that I and a fellow friend
of mine are here famished in the Forrest for want of
food: perish wee must unlesse relieved by thy favours.
Therefore if thou be a Gentleman, give meate to men,
and to such as are everie way woorthie of life: let the
proudest squire that sits at thy table, rise and incounter with mee in any honorable point of activitie whatsoever, and if hee and thou prove me not a man, send
me away comfortlesse. If thou refuse this, as a niggard
of thy cates, I will have amongst you with my sword;
for rather wil I dye valiantly, then perish with so
cowardly an extreame. Gerismond, looking him earnestly in the face, and seeing so proper a Gentleman
in so bitter a passion, was mooved with so great pitie,
that rising from the table, he tooke him by the hand
and badde him welcome, willing him to sit downe in
his place, and in his roome not onely to eat his fill,
but [be] the Lord of the feast. Gramercy sir (quoth
Rosader) but I have a feeble friend that lyes hereby
famished almost for food, aged and therefore lesse
able to abide the extremitie of hunger then my selfe,
and dishonour it were for me to taste one crumme,
1 [Edit. 1598 has hained. ]




62       EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


before I made him partner of my fortunes: therefore
I will runne and fetch him, and then I wil gratefully
accept of your proffer. Away hies Rosader to Adam
Spencer, and tels him the newes, who was glad of so
happie fortune, but so feeble he was that he could not
go; wherupon Rosader got him up on his backe, and
brought him to the place. Whiche when Gerismond
and his men saw, they greatly applauded their league
of friendship; and Rosader having Gerismonds place
assigned him, would not sit there himselfe, but set
downe Adam   Spencer.   Well to be short, those
hungry squires fell to their victuals, and feasted themselves with good delicates, and great store of wine.
Assoone as they had taken their repast, Gerismond
(desirous to heare what hard fortune drave them into
those bitter extreames) requested Rosader to discourse (an 1 it were not any way prejudicall unto him)
the cause of his travell. Rosader (desirous any way
to satisfie the curtesie of his favourable host, first beginning his exordium with a volley of sighes, and a
fewluke warme teares) prosecuted his discourse, and
told him from point to point all his fortunes: how hee
was the yongest sonne of Sir John of Bourdeaux, his
name Rosader, how his brother sundry times had
wronged him, and lastly, how for beating the Sheriffe,
and hurting his men, hee fled: and this old man
(quoth he) whom I so much love and honour, is surnamed Adam Spencer, an old servant of my fathers,
and one (that for his love) never fayled me in all my
misfortunes.
When Gerismond heard this, he fell on the neck of
Rosader, and next discoursing unto him, how he was
Gerismond their lawfull King, exiled by Torismond,
what familiaritie had ever been betwixt his father, Sir
John of Bourdeaux, and him, howfaithfull a subject hee
1 [Old copy. as.]




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


63


lived, and how honourably he dyed; promising (for his
sake) togive both him and his friend such curteousentertainment as his present estate could minister; and upon
this made him one of his forresters. Rosader seeing
it was the King, cravde pardon for his boldnesse, in
that hee did not doo him due reverence, and humbly
gave him thankes for his favourable curtesie. Gerismond not satisfied yet with newes, beganne to enquire
if he had been lately in the Court of Torismond, and
whether he had seene his daughter Rosalynd, or no?
At this, Rosader fetcht a deep sigh, and shedding
many teares, could not answere: yet at last, gathering his spirits togither, he revealed unto the King,
how Rosalynde was banished, and how there was
such a simpathie of affections betwixt Alinda and her,
that shee chose rather to bee partaker of her exile,
then to part fellowship: whereupon the unnatural
King banished them both; and now they are wandred none knowes whither, neither could any learne
since their departure, the place of their abode. This
newes drave the King into a great melancholy, that
presently hee arose from all the company, and went
into his privie chamber, so secrete as the harbour of
the woods would allow him. The company was all
dasht at these tydings, and Rosader and Adam
Spencer, having such opportunitie, went to take their
rest. Where we leave them, and returne againe to
Torismond.
The flight of Rosader came to the eares of Torismond, who hearing that Saladyne was sole heire of
the landes of Sir John of Bourdeaux, desirous to possesse such faire revenewes, found just occasion to
quarrell with Saladyne about the wrongs he proffered
to his brother; and therefore dispatching a Herehault, he sent for Saladyne in all poast haste. Who
marveiling what the matter should be, began to examine his owne conscience, wherein hee had offended




64


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


his highnesse; but imboldened with his innocence,
he boldly went with the Herehault unto the Court.
Where assoone as hee came, hee was not admitted
into the presence of the king, but presently sent to
prison.  This greatly amazed Saladyne, chiefly in
that the Jayler had a straight charge over him, to see
that he should be close prisoner. Many passionate
thoughts came in his head, till at last he began to
fall into consideration of his former follies, and to
meditate with himselfe. Leaning his head on his
hand, and his elbow on his knee, full of sorrow, grief
and disquieted passions, he resolved into these
tearmes.
SALADYNES COMPLAINT.
Unhappie Saladyne, whome folly hath led to these
misfortunes, and wanton desires wrapt within the
laborinth of these calamities. Are not the heavens
doomers of mens deedes? And holdes not God a
ballance in his fist, to reward with favour, and revenge
with justice? Oh Saladyne, the faults of thy youth,
as they were fond, so were they foule: and not onely
discovering little nourture, but blemishing the excellence of nature. Whelpes of one litter are ever most
loving, and brothers that are sonnes of one father,
should live in friendship without jarre. Oh Saladyne,
so it should bee; but thou hast with the deere fedde
against the wind, with the crabbe strove against the
streame, and sought to pervert nature by unkindnesse.
Rosaders wrongs, the wrongs of Rosader (Saladyne)
cryes for revenge,- his youth pleads to God to inflict
some penaunce upon thee, his vertues are pleas that
inforce writtes of displeasure to crosse thee: thou
hast highly abused thy kynde and naturall brother, and
the heavens cannot spare to quite thee with punishment. There is no sting to the worme of conscience,
no hell to a mind toucht with guilt. Every wrong I




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.          6
offred him (called now to remembrance) wringeth a
drop of blood from my heart, every bad looke, every
frowne pincheth me at the quicke, and saies Saladyne
thou hast sinned against Rosader. Be penitent, and
assigne thyselfe some pennance to discover thy sorrow,
and pacifie his wrath.
In the depth of his passion, hee was sent for to
the King, who with a looke that threatened death
entertained him, and demaunded of him where his
brother was?  Saladyne made answer, that upon
some ryot made against the Sheriffe of the shire, he
was fled from Bourdeaux, but hee knew not whither.
Nay villaine (quoth he) I have heard of the wronges
thou has proffered thy brother since the death of thy
father, and by thy means have I lost a most brave
and resolute Chevalier.  Therefore, in justice to
punish thee, I spare thy life for thy fathers sake, but
banish thee for ever from the court and countrey of
France, and see thy departure be within tenne dayes,
els trust me thou shalt loose thy head, and with that
the King flew away in a rage, and left poore Saladyne
greatly perplexed. Who grieving at his exile, yet
determined to bear it with patience, and in penaunce
of his former folies to travaile abroade in every coast
till he found out his brother Rosader. With whom
now I beginne.
Rosader beeing thus preferred to the place of a
Forrester by Gerismond, rooted out the remembrance
of his brothers unkindnes by continuall exercise,
traversing the groves and wilde Forrests, partly to
heare the melody of the sweete birds which recorded,
and partly to shew his diligent indeavour in his
masters behalfe. Yet whatsoever he did, or howsoever he walked, the lively image of Rosalynde remained in memorie: on her sweete perfections he
fed his thoughts, proving himselfe like the eagle a
true borne bird, since that the one is knowne by beVOL. II.                             E




66


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


holding the Sunne, so was he by regarding excellent
beautie.   One day among the rest, finding       a fit
opportunity and place convenient, desirous to discover his woes to the woodes, hee engraved with his
knife on the bark of a Mir tre, this pretye estimate of
his Mistres perfection.
SONNETTO.
Of all chast birdes the Phoenix doth excell,
Of all strong beastes the Lyon beares the bell,
Of all sweet flowers the Rose doth sweetest smel,
Of all faire maydes my Rosalynd is fairest.
Of all pure mettals gold is onely purest,
Of all high trees the Pine hath highest crest,
Of all soft sweets, I like my mistris brest,
Of all chast thoughts my mistris thoughts are rarest.
Of all proud birds the Eagle pleaseth Jove,
Of pretie fowles kind Venus likes the Dove,
Of trees Minerva doth the Olive love,
Of all sweet Nimphs I honour Rosalynd.
Of all her gifts her wisedome pleaseth most,
Of all her graces vertue she doth boast:
For all these gifts my life and joy is lost,
If Rosalynde prove cruell and unkind.
In these and such like passions Rosader did every
day eternize the name of his Rosalynd; and this day
especially when Aliena and Ganimede (inforced by
the heat of the Sun to seeke for shelter) by good
fortune arrived in that place, where this amorous
forrester registred his melancholy passions: they saw
the sodaine change of his looks, his folded armes, his
passionate sighes, they heard him often abruptly cal
on Rosalynd: who (poore soule) was as hotly burned
as himselfe, but that shee shrouded her paines in the
cinders of honorable modesty. Whereupon (gessing
him to be in love, and according to the nature of their
sexe being pittifull in that behalfe) they sodaily brake




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


67


off his melancholy by theyr approach, and Ganimede
shooke him out of his dumps thus.
What newes forrester? hast thou wounded some
Deere, and lost him in the fall? Care not man for so
small a losse, thy fees was but the skinne, the shoulder,
and the horns: tis hunters lucke to ayme faire and
misse; and a woodmans fortune to strike and yet go
without the game.
Thou art beyond the marke Ganimrede (quoth
Aliena), his passions are greater, and his sighs discovers
more losse: perhaps in traversing these thickets, he
hath seene some beautiful Nimph, and is growne
amorous. It may be so (quoth Ganimede) for here
he hath newly ingraven some sonnet; come, and see
the discourse of the Forresters poems. Reading the
sonnet over, and hearing him name Rosalynde, Aliena
lookt on Ganimede and laught, and Ganimede looking backe on the Forrester, and seeing it was Rosader,
blusht; yet thinking to shrowd all under her pages apparell, she boldly returned to Rosader, and began thus:
I pray thee tell me Forrester, what is this Rosalynd
for whom thou pinest away in such passions? Is shee
some Nymph that wayts upon Dianaes traine, whose
chastitie thou hast deciphred in such Epethites? Or
is she some shepherdesse that hants these playnes,
whose beautie hath so bewitched thy fancie, whose
name thou shaddowest in covert under the figure of
Rosalynd, as Ovid did Julia under the name of
Corinna? or say mee forsooth, is it that Rosalynde,
of whome wee shepheards have heard talke, shee
Forrester, that is the daughter of Gerismond, that
once was King, and now an Outlawe in the forrest of
Arden? At this Rosader fecht a deepe sigh, and
sayde, It is she, 0 gentle Swayne, it is she, that Saint
it is to whom I serve, that Goddesse at whose shrine
I doe bende all my devotions: the most fayrest of all
faires, the Phenix of all that sexe,,and the puritie of




68


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


all earthly perfection. And why (gentle Forrester) if
shee be so beautifull and thou so amorous, is there
such a disagreement in thy thoughts? Happily she
resembleth the Rose, that is sweete, but full of prickles?
or the Serpent Regius that hath scales as glorious as
the Sunne, and a breath as infectious as the Aconitum
is deadly? So thy Rosalynd may be most amiable,
and yet unkind; full of favour and yet froward, coy
without wit, and disdainfull without reason.
O shepheard (quoth Rosader) knewest thou her
personage graced with the excellence of all perfection,
beeing a harbour wherein the Graces shrowd their
vertues: thou wouldest not breath out such blasphemy
against the beauteous Rosalind. She is a Diamond,
bright, but not hard, yet of most chast operation: a
pearle so orient, that it can be stained with no blemish:
a Rose without prickles, and a Princesse absolute, as
well in beauty as in vertue. But I, unhappy I, have
let mine eye soare with the Eagle against so bright a
Sun, that I am quite blind.: I have with Apollo
enamoured myselfe of a Daphne, not (as she) disdainful, but farre more chast than Daphne: I have
with Ixion laide my love on Juno, and shall (I feare)
embrace nought but a clowde. Ah shepheard, I
have reacht at a starre, my desires have mounted
above my degree, and my thoughts above my
fortunes. I being a peasant, have ventured to gaze
on a Princesse, whose honors are to high to vouchsafe such base loves.
Why Forrester, quoth Ganimede, comfort thy selfe:
be blyth and frolike man. Love sowseth so low as
she soareth high: Cupid shootes at a ragge assoone as
at a roabe, and Venus eye that was so curious, sparkled
favour on polt-footedl Vulcan. Feare notman, womens
lookes are not tied to dignities feathers, nor make
1 [01 J copy, jo7e-footed.]




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


69


they curious esteeme, where the stone is found, but
what is the vertue.  Feare not Forrester: faint heart
never woone faire Ladye.   But where lives Rosalynde
now, at the Court?
Oh no, quoth Rosader, she lives I know not where,
and this is my sorrow, banished by Toresmond, and
that is my hell: for might I but finde her sacred personage, and plead before the bar of her pitie, the
plaint of my passions, hope telles mee shee would
grace me with some favour: and that would suffice me
as a recompence of all my former miseries.
Much have I heard of thy mistres excellence, and
I know Forrester thou canst describe her at the full, as
one that hast survaid all her parts with a curious eye:
then doo that favour, to tell me what her perfections
be. That I wil quoth Rosader, for I glorie to make
all eares wonder at my Mistress excellence. And
with that he pulde a paper foorth his bosome, wherein
he read this.
ROSALYNDES DESCRIPTION.
Like to the ceere in highest spheare
Where all imperiall glorie shines,
Of selfe same colour is her haire,
Whether unfolded, or in twines:
Heigh ho, faire Rosalynde.
Her eyes are Saphires set in snow,
Refining heaven by every wincke:
The gods do feare when as they glow,
And I doo tremble when I thinke:
Heigh ho, would she were mine.
IHer chekes are lyke the blushing clowde
That bewtifies Auroraes face,
Or lyke the silver crimsin shrowde,
That Phoebus smiling lookes doth grace:
Heigh ho, faire Rosalynd.
Her lippes are like two budded roses,
Whome ranckes of lillies neighbour nie,
Within which bounds she balme incloses,
Apt to intice a Deitie:
IHeigh ho, would she were mine.




70          EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
Her necke, like to a stately tower,
Where Love himselfe imprisoned lies,
To watch for glaunces every houre,
From her devine and sacred eyes:
Heigh ho, faire Rosalynd.
Her pappes are centers of delight,
Her pappes are orbes of heavenly frame,
Where Nature molds the deaw of light,
To feed perfection with the same;
Heigh ho, would she were mine.
WVth Orient pearle, with Rubie red,
With Marble white, with Saphire blew,
Her body every way is fed,
Yet soft in touch, and sweet in view:
Heigh ho, faire Rosalynde.
Nature her selfe her shape admires.
The Gods are wounded in her sight,
And Love forsakes his heavenly fires,
And at her eyes his brand doth light:
Heigh ho, would she were mine.
Then muse not Nymphes though I bemone
The absence of faire Rosalynde,
Since for her faire there is fairer none,
Nor for her vertues so devine:
Heigh ho, faire Rosalynde.
Heigh ho my heart, would God that she were mine!
Periit, quia deperibat.
Beleeve me (quoth Ganimede) eyther the Forrester
is an exquisite Painter, or Rosalynde farre above
wonder; so it makes me blush, to heare how women
should be so excellent, and pages so unperfect.
Rosader beholding her earnestly, answered thus.
Truly, gentle page, thou hast cause to complaine thee,
wert thou the substance: but resembling the shadow,
content thyselfe; for it is excellence inough to be like
the excellence of nature. He hath aunswered you,
Ganimede, quoth Aliena, it is enough for pages to
wait on beautiful Ladies, and not to be beautiful them.
selves. Oh mistres, quoth Ganimede, hold you your
peace, for you are partiall: Who knowes not, but that




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


7 I


all women have desire to tye soveraintie to their petticotes, and ascribe beauty to themselves, wher if boies
might put on their garments, perhaps they would
prove as comely, if not as comely, as courteous. But
tel me Forrester, (and with that she turned to Rosader)
under whom maintainest thou thy walke? Gentle
swaine, under the King of Outlawes, said he, the unfortunate Gerismond, who having lost his kingdome,
crowneth his thoughtes with content, accounting it
better to governe among poore men in peace, than
great men in danger. But hast thou not, said she,
(having so melancholy opportunities as this Forrest
affoordeth thee) written more Sonets in commendations of thy Mistris? I have gentle swaine quoth he,
but they be not about me: to morrow by dawn of
day, if your flockes feed in these pastures, I will bring
them you; wherein you shall read my passions, whiles
I feele them, judge my patience when you read it:
til when I bid farewel. So giving both Ganimede and
Aliena a gentle good night, he resorted to his lodge,
leaving them to their prittle prattle. So Ganimede
(said Aliena, the forrester being gone) you are mightily
beloved: men make ditties in your praise, spend
sighs for your sake, make an idoll of your beauty:
believe mee, it greeves me not a little to see the poore
man so pensive, and you so pittilesse.
Ah, Aliena (quoth she), be not peremptory in your
judgments. I heare Rosalynde praisd as I am Ganimede, but were I Rosalynde, I could answere the
Forrester: if he mourne for love, there are medicines
for love: Rosalynde cannot be faire and unkind.
And so Madame you see it is time to fold our flocks,
or else Coridon will frown, and say you will never
prove good huswife. With that they put their sheepe
into the coates, and went home to her friend Coridons Cottage, Aliena as merry as might bee, that she
was thus in the company of her Rosalynde: but she




72


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGA CIE.


poore soule, that had Love her loadstarre, and her
thoughtes set on fire with the flame of fancie, could
take no rest, but being alone began to consider what
passionate pennance poore Rosader was enjoyned to
by Love and Fortune: that at last shee fell into this
humour with her selfe.
ROSALYNDE PASSIONATE ALONE.
Ah Rosalynd, how the Fates have set down in theyr
Sinode to make thee unhappy: for when Fortune hath
done hir worst, then Love comes in to begin a new
tragedie: she seeks to lodge her sonne in thyne eyes,
and to kindle her fires in thy bosome. Beware fond
girle, he is an unruly guest to harbour: for entring in
by intreats, he will not be thrust out by force, and her
fires are fed with such fuel, as no water is able to
quench. Seest thou not how Venus seekes to wrap
thee in her Laborynth, wherein is pleasure at the
entrance, but within, sorrowes, cares, and discontent?
she is a syren, stop thine eares at her melodie; she is
a Basiliscke, shutte thine eyes, and gaze not at her
least thou perish.  Thou art now placed in the
Countrey content, where are heavenly thoughtes and
meane desires: in those Lawnes where thy flocks feed
Diana haunts: be as her Nymphes chast, and enemie
to Love, for there is no greater honour to a mayd,
than to account of fancie, as a mortal foe to their sexe.
Daphne that bonny wench, was not turned into a Bay
tree, as the Poets fain, but for her chastity her fame
was immortall, resembling the Lawrell that is ever
greene.1 Follow thou her steps Rosalynd, and the
rather, for that thou art an exile, and banished from
the court; whose distresse, as it is appeased with
patience, so it would be renewed with amorous passions. Have minde on thy forepassed fortunes, feare
the worst, and intangle not thy selfe with present fancies, least loving in hast, thou repent thee at leisure.




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


73


Ah but yet Rosalynd, it is Rosader that courts thee:
one, who as he is beutifull, so he is vertuous, and harboureth in his minde as manie good qualities, as his
face is shadowed with gratious favours; and therefore
Rosalynde stoope to Love, least beeing eyther too coy
or too cruell, Venus waxe wroth, and plague thee with
the reward of disdaine.
Rosalynde thus passionate, was wakened from her
dumpes by Aliena, who saide, it was time to goe to
bed. Coridon swore that was true, for Charls Waine
was risen in the North, wheruppon each taking leave
of other, went to their rest, all but the poore Rosalynde: who was so full of passions, that she could not
possesse any contente. Well, leaving her to her broken
slumbers, expect what was performed by them the
next morning.
The Sunne was no sooner stept from the bed of
Aurora, but Aliena was wakened by Ganimede: who
restlesse all night, had tossed in her passions: saying
it was then time to go to the field to unfold their
sheepe. Aliena (that spied where the hare was by the
hounds, and could see day at a little hole) thought to
be pleasaunt with her Ganimede, and therfore replied
thus: What wanton? the Sunne is but new up, and
as yet Iris riches lies folded in the bosome of Flora,
Phoebus hath not dried up the pearled dew, and so
long Coridon hath not taught me it is not fitte to lead
the sheepe abroad: least the deaw being unwholesome, they get the rot: but now see I the old proverbe true, he is in hast whom the devill drives, and
where love prickes forward, there is no worse death
then delay. Ah my good page, is there fancie in thine
eye, and passions in thy heart? What, hast thou
wrapt love in thy looks, and sette all thy thoughts on
fire by affection? I tell thee, it is a flame as harde to
be quencht as that of Aetna. But nature must have
her course, womens eies have faculty attractive like the




74


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


jeat, and retentive like the diamond: they dally in
the delight of faire objects, til gazing on the Panthers
beautiful skin, repenting experience tel them he hath
a devouring paunch. Come on (quoth Ganimede)
this sermon of yours is but a subtiltie to lie stil a bed,
because either you think the morning cold, or els I
being gone, you would steal a nappe: this shift carries
no paulme, and therefore up and away. And for
Love, let me alone, ile whip him away with nettles,
and set disdaine as a charme to withstand his forces;
and therefore looke you to your selfe: be not too
bold, for Venus can make you bend: nor too coy, for
Cupid hath a piercing dart, that will make you crie
Peccavi. And that is it (quoth Aliena) that hath raised
you so earlie this morning. And with that she slipt
on her peticoat, and start up; and assoone as she had
made her ready, and taken her breakfast, away goe
these two with their bagge and bottles to the field, in
more pleasant content of mynd, then ever they were
in the court of Torismond. They came no sooner
nigh the foldes, but they might see where their discontented Forrester was walking in his melancholy.
Assoone as Aliena saw him, she smiled, and sayd to
Ganymede, wipe your eyes sweeting: for yonder is
your sweet heart this morning in deep prayers no
doubt to Venus, that she may make you as pitifull as
hee is passionate. Come on Ganimede, I pray thee
lets have a litle sport with him.  Content (quoth
Ganimede) and with that to waken him out of his deep
memento, he began thus.
Forrester, good fortune to thy thoughts, and ease
to thy passions, what makes you so early abroad this
morne? in contemplation, no doubt of your Rosalynd.
Take heede Forrester, step not too farre, the Foord
may be deep, and you slip over the shooes: I tell thee,
flyes have their spleen, the antes choller, the least
haires shadows, and the smallest loves great desires.




EUPIHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


75


Tis good (Forrester) to love, but not to overlove:
least in loving her that likes not thee, thou fold thy
selfe in an endlesse Laborinth. Rosader seeing the
faire shepheardesse and her prettie Swayne, in whose
company he felt the greatest ease of his care, hee
returned them a salute on this maner.
Gentle shepheards, all haile, and as heathfull be
your flocks, as you happie in content. Love is restlesse, and my bedde is but the cell of my bane, in that
there I finde busie thoughtes and broken slumbers:
heere (although every where passionate) yet I brooke
love with more patience, in that everie object feedes
mine eye with varietie of fancies: when I looke on
Floraes beauteous tapestrie, checkered with the pride
of all her treasure, I call to minde the faire face of
Rosalynd, whose heavenly hue exceeds the Rose and
the Lilly in their highest excellence: the brightnesse
of Phcebus shine, puts mee in minde to thinke of the
sparkeling flames that flew from her eyes, and set my
heart first on fire: the sweet harmony of the birds,
put me in remembrance of the rare melody of her
voyce, which lyke the Syren enchaunteth the eares of
the hearer. Thus in contemplation I salve my sorrowes, with applying the perfection of every object to
the excellencie of her qualities.
She is much beholding unto (quoth Aliena) and
so much, that I have oft wisht with my selfe, that if
I should ever prove as amorous as Oenone, I might
finde as faithfull a Paris as your selfe.
How say you by this Item Forrester, (quoth Ganimede) the faire shepheardesse favours you, who is
mistresse of so manye flockes. Leave of man the
supposition of Rosalynds love, when as reaching 1 at
her, you rove beyond the Moone, and cast your
lookes upon my mistresse, who no doubt is as faire
1 [Old copy, watchiJgn.]




76         EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
though not so royall, one bird in the hand is worth
two in the wood: better possesse the love of Aliena,
then catch furiously at the shadowe of Rosalynd.
Ile tel thee boy (quoth Rosader ) so is my fancy
fixed on my Rosalynde, that were thy mistresse as
faire as Lseda or Danae, whom Jove courted in transformed shapes, mine eyes would not vouch to entertaine their beauties: and so hath Love lockt me in
her perfections, that I had rather onely contemplate
in her beauties, then absolutely possesse the excellence
of any other. Venus is too blame Forrester [quoth
Ganimede] if having so true a servant of you, shee
reward you not with Rosalynd, if Rosalynd were more
fairer than her self.
But leaving this prattle, now ile put you in mynd of
your promise, about those Sonnets which you sayd
were at home in your lodge.
I have them about mee (quoth Rosader) let us sit
downe, and then you shall heare what a Poeticall
fury Love will infuse into a man: with that they sate
downe upon a greene banke, shadowed with figge
trees, and Rosader, fetching a deep sigh, read them
this Sonnet:
ROSADERS SONNET.
In sorowes cell I layd me downe to sleepe,
But waking woes were jealous of mine eyes,
They made them watch, and bend themselves to weepe,
But weeping teares their want could not suffice:
Yet since for her they wept who guides my hart,
They weeping smile, and triumph in their smart.
Of these my teares a fountaine fiercely springs,
Where Venus baynes her selfe incenst with love,
Where Cupid bowseth his faire feathred wings:
But I behold what paines I must approve.
Care drinkes it drie; but when on her I thinke,
Love makes me weepe it full unto the brinke.
1 [Old copy, Ganimede.]




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


77


Meane while my sighes yeeld truce unto my teares,
By them the windes increast and fiercely blow:
Yet when I sigh the flame more plaine appeares,
And by their force with greater power doth glow:
Amids these paines, all Phoenix like I thrive,
Since Love that yeelds me death, my life revive.
Rosader en esperance.
Now surely Forrester (quoth Aliena), when thou
madest this Sonnet, thou wert in some amorous quandarie, neither too fearfull, as dispairing of thy mistresse favours, nor too gleesome, as hoping in thy
fortunes. I can smile (quoth   Ganymede) at the
Sonettoes, Canzones, Madrigales, roundes and roundelaies, that these pensive patients powre out, when
their eyes are more full of wantonnesse, then their
hearts of passions.  Then, as the fishers put the
sweetest bayt to the fairest fish: so these Ovidians
(holding Anto in their tongues, when their thoughtes
come at hap hazard) write that they bee wrapt in an
endlesse Laborinth of sorrow, when walking in the
large leas of libertie, they onely have their humours
in their inckpot. If they find women so fond, that
they will with such painted lures come to their lust,
then they triumph till they be full gorgde with pleasures; and then flye they away (like ramage kytes)
to their own content, leaving the tame fool their mistresse full of fancie, yet without even a feather. If
they misse (as dealing with some wary wanton, that
wants not such a one as themselves, but spies their
subtiltie) they ende their amors with a few fained
sighes; and theyr excuse is, their mistresse is cruell,
and they smoother passions with patience.    Such
gentle Forrester we may deeme you to be, that rather
passe away the time heere in these woods with wryting amorets, then to bee deeply enamoured (as you
say) of your Rosalynde. If you bee such a one, then
I pray God, when you thinke your fortunes at the
highest, and your desires to bee most excellent, then




78


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


that you may with Ixion embrace Juno in a cloude,
and have nothing but a marble mistresse to release
your martyrdome; but if you be true and trustie,
eye-payned and heart sick, then accursed be Rosalynd if she proove cruel: for Forrester (I flatter not)
thou art worthie of as faire as shee. Aliena spying
the storme by the winde, smiled to see how Ganymede flew to the fist without any call; but Rosader
who tooke him flat for a shepheards Swayne, made
him this answere:
Trust mee Swayne (quoth Rosader) but my Canzon
was written in no such humor; for mine eye and my
heart are relatives, the one drawing fancy by sight,
the other enterteining her by sorrow. If thou sawest
my Rosalynd, with what beauties Nature hath
favoured her, with what perfection the heavens hath
graced her, with what qualities the Gods have endued
her; then wouldst thou say, there is none so fickle
that could be fleeting unto her. If she had been
Jneas Dido, had Venus and Juno both scolded him
from Carthage, yet her excellence despight of them,
would have detained him at Tyre.  If Phillis had
been as beauteous, or Ariadne as vertuous, or both
as honourable and excellent as she; neither had the
Philbert tree sorrowed in the death of dispairing
Phillis, nor the starres been graced with Ariadne but
Demophoon and Theseus had been trustie to their
Paragons. I wil tel thee Swayne, if with a deep insight thou couldst pierce into the secrets of my loves,
and see what deep impressions of her Idea affection
hath made in my heart: then wouldst thou confesse I
were passing passionate, and no lesse indued with
admirable patience. Why (quoth Aliena) needs there
patience in love? Or else in nothing (quoth Rosader) for it is a restlesse sore, that hath no ease, a
Fankar that still frets, a disease that taketh away all
hope'of sleepe. If then so many sorrowes, sodaine




EUPEIUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


79


joyes, momentary pleasures, continuall feares, daily
griefes, and nightly woes be founde in love, then is
not hee to bee accounted patient that smothers all
these passions with silence? Thou speakest by experience (quoth Ganimede) and therfore we hold al
thy words for Axiomes: but is Love such a lingring
maladie? It is (quoth he) either extreame or meane,
according to the minde of the partie that entertaines
it; for as the weedes grow longer untoucht then the
prettie floures, and the flint lyes safe in the quarry,
when the Emerauld is suffering the Lapidaries toole:
so meane men are freed from Venus injuries, when
kings are environed with a laborinth of her cares. The
whiter the Lawne, the deeper is the moale, the more
purer the Chrysolite the sooner stained; and such as
have their hearts ful of honour, have their loves ful of
the greates sorrowes.  But in whomsoever (quoth
Rosader) hee fixeth his dart, hee never leaveth to
assault him, till either hee hath wonne him to folly or
fancy; for as the Moone never goes without the
starre Lunisequa, so a lover never goeth without the
unrest of his thoughts. For proofe you shall heare
another fancy of my making. No doo gentle Forrester (quoth Ganimede) and with that he read over
this Sonetto:
ROSADERS SECOND SONETTO.
Turne I my lookes unto the Skies,
Love with his arrows wounds mine eies;
If so I gaze upon the ground,
Love then [in] every floure is found.
Search I the shade to flie my paine,
He meets me in the shade againe:
Wend I to walke in secret grove,
Even there I meet with sacred Love.
If so I bayne me in the spring,
Even on the brinke I heare him sing:
If so I meditate alone,
He will be partner of my mone.




8o


E UPHUES GOLDEN LEGA CIE.


If so I mourn, he weeps with me,
And where I am, there will he be.
When as I talke of Rosalynd,
The God from coynesse waxeth kind,
And seems in self same flames to fry,
Because he loves as wel as I.
Sweet Rosalynd for pitty rue,
For why, then Love I am more true:
He if he speed will quickly flie,
But in thy love I live and die.
How like you this Sonnet, quoth Rosader? Marry
quoth Ganimede, for the pen well, for the passion ill;
for as I praise the one, I pitie the other, in that thou
shouldest hunt after a cloude, and love either without
reward or regard.    Tis neither frowardnesse, quoth
Rosader, but my hard fortunes, whose destenies have
crost me with her absence; for did shee feele my
loves, she would not let me linger in these sorrowes.
Women, as they are faire, so they respect faith, and
estimate more (if they be honourable) the wil than the
wealth, having loyaltie the object wherat they ayme
their fancies. But leaving off these interparleyes, you
shall heare my last Sonnetto, and then you have heard
all my Poetry; and with that he sight out this.
ROSADERS THIRD SONNET.
Of vertuous Love myself may boast alone,
Since no suspect my service may attaint:
For perfect faire she is the only one,
Whom I esteem for my beloved Saint.
Thus for my faith I only beare the bell,
And for her faire she only doth excell.
Then let fond Petrarch shrowd his Lawraes praise,
And Tasso cease to publish his affect,
Since mine the faith confirmd at all assaies,
And hers the faire, which all men do respect.
My lines hir faire, hir faire my faith assures,
Thus I by Love, and Love by me indures.
Thus quoth Rosader, here is an ende of my Poems,
but for all this no release of my passions; so that I




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


resemble him, that in the deapth of his distresse hath
none but the Eccho to answere him.    Ganimede
pittying her Rosader, thinking to drive him out of his
amorous melancholy, said, that now the Sunne was
in his Meridionall heat, and that it was high noone,
therefore wee shepheards say, tis time to go to dinner;
for the Sunne and our stomackes are Shepheards dials.
Therefore, Forrester, if thou wilt take such fare as
comes out of our homely scrips, welcome shall answere
whatsoever thou wantst in delicates. Aliena tooke
the entertainment by the ende, and tolde Rosader
hee should bee her guest. He thankt them heartily,
and sat with them downe to dinner; where they had
such cates as Countrey state did allow them, sawst
with such content, and such sweete prattle, as it seemed
farre more sweet, than all their Courtly junckets.
As soone as they had taken their repast, Rosader
giving them thankes for his good cheare, would have
been gone; but Ganimede, that was loath to let him
passe out of her presence, began thus: Nay Forrester
quoth he, if thy busines be not the greater, seeing
thou saist thou art so deeply in love, let me see how
thou canst wooe: I will represent Rosalynde, and
thou shalt be as thou art Rosader, see in some amorous Eglogue, how if Rosalynd were present, how thou
couldst court her; and while we sing of love, Aliena
shall tune her pipe, and plaie us melodie. Content,
quoth Rosader. And Aliena, shee to shew her willingnesse, drew forth a recorder, and began to winde it.
Then the lovyng Forrester began thus:
THE WOOING EGLOGUE BETWIXT ROSALYNDE AND
ROSADER.
Ros. I pray thee nymph by all the working words,
By all the teares and sighs that Lovers know,
Or what our thoughts or faltring tongue affords,
I crave for mine in ripping up my woe.
VOL. II.                               F




82       EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


Sweet Rosalynd my love (would God my love)
My life (would God my life) aye pitie me:
Thy lips are kind, and humble like the dove,
And but with beautie pitie wil not be.
Looke on mine eyes made red with rufull teares,
From whence the raine of true remorse descendeth,
All pale in lookes, and I though yoong in yeares,
And nought but love or death my dayes befriendeth.
Oh let no stormy rigour knit thy browes,
Which Love appointed for his mercy seat:
The tallest tree by Boreas breath it bowes,
The yron yeels with hammer, and to heat.
Oh, Rosalynd then be thou pittifull,
For Rosalynd is only beautifull.
Rosal. Loves wantons arme their traitrous sutes with teares,
With vows, with oaths, with lookes, with showers of gold:
But when the fruit of their affects appeares,
The simple heart by subtil sleights is sold.
Thus sucks the yeelding eare the poysoned bait,
Thus feeds the hart upon his endles harmes,
Thus glut the thoughts themselves on self deceit,
Thus blind the eyes their sight by subtil charmes.
The lovely lookes, the sighs that storme so sore,
The deaw of deep dissembled doublenesse,
These may attempt, but are of power no more
Where beauty leanes to wit and soothfastnesse.
Oh Rosader then be thou wittifull,
For Rosalynd scorns foolish pittifull.
'os. I pray thee Rosalynd by those sweet eyes,
That stain the Sun in shine, the morn in cleare,
By those sweet cheeks where Love incamped lyes
To kisse the Roses of the springing yeare.
I tempt thee Rosalynd by ruthfull plaints,
Not seasoned with deceipt or fraudfull guile,
But firm in payn, far more than toong depaints,
Sweet Nymph be kind, and grace me with a smile.
So may the heavens preserve from hurtfull food
Thy harmless flockes, so may the Summer yeeld
The pride of all her riches and her good,
To fat thy sheepe (the Cittizens of field.)
Oh leave to arme thy lovely browes with scorne:
The birds their beake, the Lyon hath his taile,
And Lovers nought but sighs and bitter mourne,
The spotlesse fort of fancie to assaile.
Oh Rosalynde, then be thou pittifull,
For Rosalynde is onely beautifull.




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


83


Rosal. The hardned steele by fire is brought in frame.
Ros.  And Rosalynde my love than 1 any wooll more softer;
And shall not sighes her tender heart inflame!
Rosal. Were Lovers true, maydes would beleeve them ofter.
Ros.   Truth and regard, and honour, guid my love.
RosaL. Faine would I trust, but yet I dare not trie.
Ros.   Oh pittie me sweet Nymph, and do but prove.
Rosal. I would resist, but yet I know not why.
Ros.   Oh, Rosalynde be kinde, for times will change,
Thy lookes ay nill be faire as now they be,
Thine age from beautie may thy lookes estrange:
Ah yeeld in time sweet Nymph, and pittie me.
Rosal. Oh Rosalynde thou must be pittifull:
For Rosader is yong and beautifull.
Ros.   Oh gaine more great than ]ingdomes or a crowne!
Rosal. Oh trust betraid if Rosader abuse me.
Ros.  First let the heavens conspire to pull me downe,
And heaven and earth as abject quite refuse me:
Let sorrowes streame about my hatefull bower,
And retchless horror hatch within my brest:
Let beauties eye afflict me with a lower,
Let deepe despaire pursue me without rest:
Ere Rosalynde my loyaltie disprove,
lire Rosalynde accuse me for unkind.
Rosal. Then Rosalynde will grace thee with her love,
Then Rosalynde will have thee still in mind.
Ros.   Then let me triumph more than Tithons deere,
Since Rosalynde will Rosader respect:
Then let my face exile his sorry cheere,
And frolicke in the comfort of affect;
And say that Rosalynde is onely pittifull,
Since Rosalynde is onely beautifull.
When thus they had finished their courting Eglogue
in such a familiar clause, Ganimede as Augure of
some good fortunes to light upon their affections,
began to be thus pleasant: How now Forrester,
1 [Old copy, 1tat.]




84        EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
have I not fitted your turne? have I not playde the
woman handsomely, and shewed myselfe as coy in
graunts, as courteous in desires, and beene as full of
suspition, as men of flattery? and yet to salve all,
jumpe I not all up with the sweet union of love?
Did not Rosalinde content her Rosader?   The
Forrester at this smiling, shooke his head, and folding
his armes made this merrie reply.
Truth gentle Swaine, Rosader hath his Rosalynde,
but as Ixion had Juno, who thinking to possesse a
goddesse, only imbraced a clowd: in these imaginary
fruitions of fancie, I resemble the birds that fed themselves with Zeuxis painted grapes; but they grew so
leane with pecking at shadows, that theywere glad with
NEsops Cocke to scrape for a barley cornell: So fareth
it with me, who to feed my selfe with the hope of my
Mistres favors, sooth my selfe in thy sutes, and onely
in conceipt reape a wished for content; but if my
foode bee no better than such amorous dreames,
Venus at the yeares end, shal find me but a leane
lover. Yet do I take these follyes for high fortunes,
and hope these fained affections do devine some unfained ende of ensuing fancies. And thereupon (quoth
Aliena) Ile play the priest, from this daye forth Ganimede shall call thee husband, and thou shalt cal Ganimede wife, and so weele have a marriage. Content
(quoth Rosader), and laught. Content (quoth Ganimede), and chaunged as red as a rose: and so with a
smile and a blush, they made up this jesting match,
that after proved to a marriage in earnest: Rosader
full little thinking hee had wooed and woonne his
Rosalynde.
But all was well, hope is a sweet string to harpe on,
and therfore let the Forrester a while shape himselfe
to his shadow, and tarrie fortunes leysure, till she may
make a Metamorphosis fit for his purpose. I digresse:
and therefore to Aliena: who saide, the wedding was




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


85


not worth a pinne, unless there were some cheare, nor
that bargaine well made that was not stiken up with
a cuppe of wine: and therefore she wild Ganimede
to set out such cates as they had, and to draw out her
bottle, charging the Forrester, as he had imagined his
loves, so to conceipt these cates to be a most sumptuous
banquet, and to take a Mazer of wine and to drinke
to his Rosalynde; which Rosader did, and so they
passed awaye the day in many pleasant devices. Till
at last Aliena perceyved time would tarry no man, and
that the Sun waxed very low, readie to set: which
made her shorten their amorous prattle, and end the
banquet with a fresh Carrowse: which done they all
three arose, and Aliena brake off thus.
Now Forrester, Phoebus that all this while hath
beene partaker of our sports, seeing every woodman
more fortunate in his loves, than he in his fancies:
seeing thou hast woon Rosalynde, when he could not
woo Daphne, hides his head for shame, and bids us
adiew in a clowd, our sheepe they poore wantons
wander towards their foldes, as taught by Nature their
due times of rest, which tels us Forrester, we must depart. Marry though there were a mariage, yet I must
carry this night the bride with mee, and tomorrow
morning if you meete us heere, Ile promise to deliver
you her as good a mayd as I find her. Content
(quoth Rosader), tis enough for me in the night to
dreame on love, that in the day am so fond to doate
on love; and so till to morrowe you to your Folds,
and I will to my Lodge: and thus the Forrester
and they parted. He was no sooner gone, but Aliena
and Ganimede went and folded their flocks, and taking
up their hookes, their bags, and their bottles, hyed
homeward. By the way Aliena (to make the time
seeme short) began to prattle with Ganimede thus:
I have heard them say, that when the Fates forepoint,
that Fortune pricketh downe with a Period, that the




86


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


Starres are sticklers in Venus Court, and that Desire
hangs at the heele of Destenie: if it be so, then by all
probable conjectures,, this match will be a marriage:
for if Augurisme be authenticall, or the Devines
doomes principles, it cannot bee but such a shadow
portends the issue of a substance, for to that end did
the Gods force the conceit of this Eglogue, that they
might discover the ensuing consent of your affections:
so that ere it bee long, I hope (in earnest) to daunce
at your wedding.
Tush (quoth Ganimede) all is not malte that is cast
on the kill, there goes more wordes to a bargaine
than one, love feeles no footing in the aire, and
fancie holdes it slippery harbour to nestle in the
tongue: the match is not yet so surely made, but hee
may misse of his market; but if fortune be his friend,
I will not be his foe: and so I pray you (gentle Mistresse Aliena) take it. I take all things well (quoth
she) that is your content, and am glad Rosader is
yours; for now I hope your thoughts will bee at quiet:
your eye that ever looked at love, will now lende a
glaunce on your Lambes, and then they will prove
more buxsome, and you more blyth, for the eyes of
the Maister feedes the cattle. As thus they were in
chat, they spyed olde Coridon where he came plodding
to meet them: who told them supper was ready, which
news made them speed them home.  Where we will
leave them to the next morrow, and returne to Saladyne.
All this while did poore Saladyne (banished from
Bourdeux and the court of France by Torismond)
wander up and downe in the Forrest of Arden, thinking
to get to Lyons, and so travail through Germany into
Italie: but the Forrest being full of by pathes, and he
unskilfull of the country coast, slipt out of the way, and
chaunced up into the Desart, not farre from the place
where Gerismond was, and his brother Rosader.
Saladyne wearie with wandring up and downe, and




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


87


hungry with long fasting, finding a little cave by the
side of a thicket, eating such fruite as the Forrest did
affoord, and contenting himselfe with such drinke as
Nature had provided, and thirst made delicate, after
his repast he fell in a dead sleepe. As thus he lay,
a hungry Lyon came hunting downe the edge of the
grove for pray, and espying Saladyne began to ceaze
upon him: but seeing he lay still without any
motion, he left to touch him, for that Lyons hate to
pray on dead carkasses; and yet desirous to have
some foode, the Lyon lay downe and watcht to see if
he would stirre. While thus Saladyne slept secure,
fortune that was careful of her champion, began to
smile, and brought it so to passe, that Rosader
(having striken a Deere that but lightly hurt fled
through the thicket) came pacing down by the grove
with a Boare-speare in his hande in great haste, he
spyed where a man lay a sleepe, and a Lyon fast by
him: amazed at this sight, as he stoode gazing, his
nose on the sodaine bledde, which made him conjecture it was some friend of his. Whereuppon drawing more nigh, he might easily discerne his visage,
and perceived by his phisnomie that it was his brother
Saladyne: which drave Rosader into a deepe passion,
as a man perplexed at the sight of so unexpected
a chance, marvelling what should drive his Brother
to traverse those secrete Desarts without any companie in such distresse and forlorne sorte. But the
present time craved no such doubting ambages: f6r
he must eyther resolve to hazard his life for his
reliefe, or else steale away, and leave him to the
crueltie of the Lyon.  In which doubt he thus
briefly debated with himselfe.
ROSADERS MEDITATION.
Now Rosader, Fortune that long hath whipt thee
with nettles, meanes to salve thee with roses, and




88       EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


having crost thee with many frownes, now she presents thee with the brightnesse of her favors. Thou
that didst count thyselfe the most distressed of all
men, maiest account thy selfe the most fortunate
amongst men: if fortune can make men happy, or
sweet revenge be wrapt in a pleasing content. Thou
seest Saladyne thine enemie, the worker of thy
misfortunes, and the efficient cause of thine exile,
subject to the crueltie of a mercilesse Lyon, brought
into this miserie by the Gods, that they might seeme
just in revenging his rigour, and thy injuries. Seest
thou not how the Starres are in a favourable aspect,
the planets in some pleasing conjunction, the fates
agreeable to thy thoughts, and the destinies performers
of thy desires, in that Saladyne shall die, and thou bee
free of his bloud: he receive meed for his amisse,
and thou erect his Tombe with innocent handes.
Now Rosader shalt thou retourne unto Bourdeaux,
and enjoy thy possessions by birth, and his revenews
by inheritaunce; now mayest thou triumph in Love,
and hang fortunes Altars with garlands. For when
Rosalynde heares of thy wealth, it will make her love
thee the more willingly: for womens eyes are made of
Chrisecoll, that is ever unperfect unless tempred with
gold: and Jupiter soonest enjoyed Danae, because
hee came to her in so rich a shower. Thus shall this
Lyon (Rosader) ende the life of a miserable man, and
from distresse raise thee to be most fortunate. And
with that casting his Boare speare on his necke, away
he began to trudge.
But hee had not stept backe two or three paces,
but a new motion stroke him to the very hart, that
resting his Boare speare against his brest, he felle into
this passionate humour.
Ah Rosader, wert thou the sonne of Sir John of
Bourdeux, whose vertues exceeded his valour, and the
most hardiest Knight in all Europe? Should the




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


89


honour of the Father shine in the actions of the
Sonne? and wilt thou dishonour thy parentage, in
forgetting the nature of a Gentleman? Did not thy
father at his last gaspe breathe out this golden
principle: Brothers amitie is like the drops of Balsamum, that salveth the most daungerous sores?
Did he make a large exhort unto concord, and wilt
thou shew thy selfe carelesse? Oh Rosader, what
though Saladyne hath wronged thee, and made thee
live an exile in the Forest, shall thy Nature bee so
cruell, or thy Nurture so crooked, or thy thoughts so
savage, as to suffer so dismall a revenge?  What, to
let him be devoured by wilde beastes? Non sapit,
qui non sibi sapit is fondly spoken in such bitter
extreames.  Loose not his life Rosader, to win a
worlde of treasure; for in having him thou hast a
brother, and by hazarding for his life, thou gettest a
friend, and reconcilest an enemie: and more honour
shalt thou purchase by pleasuring a foe, than revenging a thousand injuries.
With that his brother began to stirre, and the Lyon
to rowse himselfe: whereupon Rosader sodainly
charged him with the Boare speare, and wounded the
Lyon very sore at the first stroke. The beaste feeling
himselfe to have a mortall hurt, leapt at Rosader, and
with his pawes gave him a sore pinch on the brest,
that he had almost faln; yet as a man most valiant,
in whom the sparks of Sir John of Burdeaux remained,
he recovered himselfe, and in a short combat slew
the Lyon: who at his death roared so lowd that
Saladyne awaked, and starting up was amazed at the
sudden sight of so monstrous a beast lying slaine by
him, and so sweet a Gentleman wounded. He presently (as hee was of a ripe conceit) began to conjecture, that the Gentleman had slaine him in his
defence.  Whereupon (as a man in a traunce) he
stood staring on them both a good while, not know



90        EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
ing his Brother, being in that disguise: at last he
burst into these tearmes.
Sir, whatsoever thou be (as full of honour thou
must needes be, by the view of thy present valour) I
perceive thou hast redressed my fortunes by thy
courage, and saved my life with thine own losse:
which tyes me to be thine in all humble service.
Thankes thou shalt have as thy due, and more thou
canst not have: for my abilitie denies me to performe
a deeper debt. But if any wayes it please thee to
commaund me, use mee as farre as the power of a
poore Gentleman may stretch.
Rosader seeing hee was unknowne to his Brother,
woondered to heare such courteous wordes come from
his crabbed nature, but glad of such reformed nurture,
he made this answere. I am sir (whatsoever thou art)
a Forrester and Ranger of these walkes: who following
my Deere to the fall, was conducted hither by some
assenting Fate, that I might save thee, and disparage
my selfe. For comming into this place, I saw thee a
sleepe, and the Lyon watching thy awake, that at
thy arising hee might pray uppon thy carkasse. At
the first sight I conjectured thee a Gentleman (for all
mens thoughts ought to bee favorable in imagination,
and I counted it the part of a resolute man to purchase a strangers reliefe, though with the losse of his
owne blood: which I have performed (thou seest) to
mine owne prejudice. If therefore thou be a man of
such worth as I value thee by thy exteriour liniaments,
make discourse unto me what is the cause of thy
present misfortunes. For by the furrowes in thy face
thou seemest to be crost with her frownes: but whatsoever or howsoever, lette mee crave that favour, to
heare the tragicke cause of thy estate.  Saladyne
sitting downe, and fetching a deepe sigh, began
thus:




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


9I


SALADYNES DISCOURSE TO ROSADER UNKNOWNE.
Although the discourse of my fortunes, be the
renewing of my sorrowes, and the rubbing of the
scarre, will open a fresh wound: yet that I may not
proove ingratefull to so courteous a Gentleman, I wil
rather sitte down and sigh out my estate, then give
any offence by smothering my griefe with silence.
Knowe therefore (sir) that I am of Bourdeaux, and the
sonne and heyre of Sir John of Bourdeaux, a man for
his vertues and valour so famous, that I cannot thinke
but the fame of his honours hath reacht further than
the knowledge of his personage.  The infortunate
sonne of so fortunate a knight am I, my namb
Saladine; who succeeding my Father in possessions,
but not in qualities, having two Brethren committed
by my Father at his death to my charge, with such
golden principles of brotherly concorde, as might
have pierst like the Syrens melodie into any humane
eare. But I (with Ulisses) became deafe against his
Philosophical harmony, and made more value of
profit than of vertue, esteeming gold sufficient honour,
and wealth the fittest title for a gentlemans dignitie:
I sette my middle brother to the Universitie to bee a
Scholler, counting it enough if he might pore on a
booke while I fed on his revenewes; and for the
yoongest (which was my Fathers joye) yoong Rosader
-And with that, naming of Rosader, Saladyne sate
him downe and wept.
Nay forward man (quoth the Forrester) teares are
the unfittest salve that any man can apply for to cure
sorrows, and therefore cease from such feminine follies,
as should drop out of a womans eye to deceive, not
out of a Gentlemans looke to discover his thoughts,
and forward with thy discourse.
Ah, sir (quoth Saladyne) this Rosader that wrings
tears from my eyes, and blood from my heart, was




92        EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
like my father in exteriour personage and in inward
qualities; for in the prime of his yeres he aymed all
his acts at honor, and coveted rather to die, than to
brooke any injury unworthy a Gentlemans credite.
I, whom envy had made blinde, and covetousnesse
masked with the vayle of selfe-love, seeing the Palme
tree grow straight, thought to suppresse it, being a
twig; but Nature will have her course, the Cedar will
be tall, the Diamond bright, the Carbuncle glistering,
and vertue will shine though it be never so much obscured. For I kept Rosader as a slave, and used
him as one of my servile hindes, until age grew on,
and a secret insight of my abuse entred into his
minde: insomuch, that he could not brooke it, but
coveted to have what his father left him, and to live
of himselfe. To be short sir, I repined at his fortunes,
and he countercheckt me, not with abilitie but valour,
until at last by my friends and ayde of such as folowed gold more than right or vertue, I banisht him
from Bourdeaux, and hee poore Gentleman lives no
man knowes where in some distressed discontent.
The Gods not able to suffer such impietie unrevenged,
so wrought, that the King pickt a causelesse quarrel
against me, in hope to have my lands, and so hath
exiled me out of France for ever. Thus, thus sir, am
I the most miserable of all men, as having a blemish
in my thoughts for the wrongs I profered Rosader,
and a touch' in my estate to be throwne from my
proper possessions by injustice. Passionat thus with
many griefs, in penance of my former follies, I go
thus pilgrime like to seeke out my brother, that I may
reconcile myselfe to him in all submission, and
afterward wend to the holy Land, to ende my yeares
in as many vertues, as I have spent my youth in
wicked vanities.
1 [Edit. 1598, couch.]




EUPHUESS GOLDEN LEGACIEE,


93


Rosader hearing the resolution of his brother Saladyne, began to compassionate his sorrowes, and not
able to smother the sparkes of Nature with fained
secrecie, he burst into these loving speeches. Then
know Saladyne (quoth hee) that thou hast met with
Rosader, who grieves as much to see thy distresse, as
thy selfe to feele the burthen of thy misery. Saladyne
casting up his eye, and noting well the phisnomy of
the Forrester, knew that it was his brother Rosader:
which made him so bash and blush at the first meeting, that Rosader was faine to recomfort him. Which
he did in such sort, that hee shewed how highly he held
revenge in scorne. Much adoo there was betweene
these two brethren, Saladyne in craving pardon, and
Rosader in forgiving and forgetting all former injuries;
the one submisse, the other curteous; Saladyne penitent and passionate, Rosader kynd and loving; that
at length Nature working an union of their thoughts,
they earnestly embraced, and fell from matters of unkindnesse, to talke of the Country life, which Rosader
so highly commended, that his brother began to have
a desire to taste of that homely content. In this
humor Rosader conducted him to Gerismonds Lodge,
and presented his brother to the King, discoursing the
whole matter how all had hapned betwixt them. The
King looking upon Saladyne, found him a man of a
most beautifull personage, and sawe in his face sufficient sparkes of ensuing honors, gave him great entertainment, and glad of their friendly reconcilement,
promised such favour as the povertie of his estate
might affoord: which Saladyne gratefully accepted.
And so Gerismond fell to question Torismonds life.
Saladyne briefly discourst unto him his injustice and
tyrannies: with such modestie (although hee had
wronged him) that Gerismond greatly praised the
sparing speech of the yoong Gentleman.
Many questions past, but at last Gerismond began




94        EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
with a deep sigh, to inquire if there were any newes of
the welfare of Alinda, or his daughter Rosalynd?
None sir quoth Saladyne, for since their departure
they were never heard of. Injurious Fortune (quoth
the king) that to double the fathers miserie, wrongst
the daughter with misfortunes. And with that (surcharged with sorrowes) he went into his Cell, and
left Saladyne and Rosader, whom Rosader straight
conducted to the sight of Adam Spencer. Who seeing Saladyne in that estate, was in a browne study;
but when he heard the whole matter, although hee
grieved for the exile of his maister, yet he joyed that
banishment had so reformed him, that from a lascivious youth he was proved a verteous Gentleman.
Looking a longer while, and seeing what familiaritie
past betweene them, and what favours were interchanged with brotherly affection, he sayd thus: I
marry, thus it should be, this was the concord that
old Sir John of Bourdeaux wisht betwixt you. Now
fulfil you those precepts hee breathed out at his death,
and in observing them, looke to live fortunate, and
die honorable.  Well sayd Adam Spencer quoth
Rosader, but hast any victuals in store for us? A
piece of a red Deer (quoth he) and a bottle of wine.
Tis Forresters fare brother, quoth Rosader: and so
they sat down and fel to their cates. Assoone as they
had taken their repast, and had wel dined, Rosader
tooke his brother Saladyne by the hand, and shewed
him the pleasures of the Forrest, and what content
they enjoyed in that mean estate. Thus for two or
three dayes he walked up and downe with his brother,
to shew him all the commodities that belonged to his
walke. In which time hee was mist of his Ganymede,
who mused greatly (with Aliena) what should become
of their forester. Some while they thought he had
taken some word unkindly, and had taken the pet:
then they imagined some new Love had withdrawne




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


95


his fancie, or happely that he was sicke, or detained
by some great businesse of Gerismonds, or that hee
had made a reconcilement with his brother, and so returned to Bourdeaux.
These conjectures did they cast in their heades,
but specially Ganimede: who havyng Love in heart
prooved restlesse, and halfe without patience, that
Rosader wronged her with so long absence; for Love
measures every minute, and thinkes houres to bee
dayes, and dayes to bee moneths, till they feede theyr
eyes with the sight of theyr desired object. Thus perplexed lived poore Ganimede: while on a day sitting
with Aliena in a great dumpe, she cast up her eye,
and saw where Rosader came pacing towardes them
with his Forrest bill on his necke. At that sight her
colour changde, and shee said to Aliena, See Mistresse where our jolly Forrester comes. And you are
not a little glad thereof (quoth Aliena), your nose bewrayes what porredge you love, the winde cannot be
tyed within his quarter, the Sun shadowed with a
vayle, Oyle hidden in water, nor Love kept out of a
womans lookes: but no more of that, Lupus est in
fabula. Assoone as Rosader was come within the
reach of her tongues ende, Aliena began thus. Why
how now Gentle Forrester, what winde hath kept you
from hence? that being so newly marryed, you have
no more care of your Rosalynd, but to absent yourself
so many dayes? are these the passions you painted
out so in your Sonnets and roundelaies? I see well
hote love is soone cold, and that the fancy of men, is
like to a loose feather that wandreth in the ayre with
the blast of every wynd. You are deceived Mistres
quoth Rosader; twas a coppy of unkindness that kept
me hence, in that I being married, you carried away
the Bride: but if I have given any occasion of offence
by absenting my selfe these three daies, I humbly sue
for pardon: which you must grant of course, in that




96        EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
the fault is so friendly confest with penance. But
to tel you the truth (faire Mistresse, and my good
Rosalynd) my eldest brother by the injury of Torismond is banished from Bourdeaux, and by chance hee
and I met in the Forrest. And heere Rosader discourst unto them what had happened betwixt them,
which reconcilement made them glad, especially
Ganimede. But Aliena hearing of the tyrannie of her
father, grieved inwardly, and yet smothered all things
with such secrecy, that the concealing was more
sorrow then the conceipt: yet that her estate might
bee hyd stil, she made faire weather of it, and so let
all passe.
Fortune, that sawe how these parties valued not
her Deitie, but helde her power in scorne, thought to
have about with them, and brought the matter to passe
thus. Certaine Rascals that lived by prowling in the
Forrest, who for feare of the Provost Marshall had
Caves in the groaves and thickets, to shrowde themselves from his traines: hearing of the beautie of
this faire shepheardesse Aliena, thought to steale her
away, and to give her to the King for a present;
hoping, because the King was a great leacher, by such
a gift to purchase all their pardons: and therefore
came to take her and her Page away. Thus resolved,
while Aliena and Ganimede were in sad talke, they
came rushing in, and layd violent hands upon Aliena
and her Page, which made them cry out to Rosader:
who having the valour of his father stamped in his
hart, thought rather to die in defence of his friends,
than any way bee toucht with the least blemish of
dishonour: and therefore dealt such blowes amongst
them with his weapon, as he did witnesse well upon
their carkasses, that he was no coward. But as Ne
Hercules quidern contra duos, so Rosader could not
resist a multitude, having none to backe him; so that
hee was not onely rebatted, but sore wounded, and




EUPHUE'S GOLDEN LEGACIE.


97


Aliena and Ganimede had been quite carryed away
by these Rascalles, had not Fortune (that ment to
turne her frowne into a favour) brought Saladyne
that way by chance, who wandring to find out his
brothers walk, encountred this crue: and seeing not
onely a shepheardesse and her boy forced, but his
brother wounded, he heaved up a Forrest bill he had
on his neck, and the first he stroke had never after
more need of the Phisition; redoubling his blowes
with such courage, that the slaves were amazed at his
valour. Rosader espying his brother so fortunately
arrived, and seeing how valiantly he behaved himselfe, though sore wounded, rushed amongst them,
and layd on such loade, that some of the crue were
slaine, and the rest fled, leaving Aliena and Ganimede
in the possession of Rosader and Saladyne.
Aliena after shee had breathed awhile and was
come to her selfe from this feare, lookt about her, and
saw where Ganimede was busie dressyng up the
woundes of the Forrester: but shee cast her eye upon
this curteous Champion that had made so hotte a rescue, and that with such affection, that shee began to
measure every part of him with favour, and in her
selfe to commende his personage and his vertue,
holding him for a resolute man, that durst assaile such
a troupe of unbrydeled villaines. At last gathering
her spirits together, she returned him these thankes.
Gentle sir, whatsoever you bee that have adventured your flesh to relieve our fortunes, and [seem]
to have as many hidden vertues, as you have manifest resolutions. Wee poore Shepheardes have no
wealth but our flocks, and therefore can wee not
make requitall with any great treasures; but our recompence is thankes, and our rewards to our friends
without faining. For rannsome therefore of this our
rescue, you must content your selfe to take such a
kinde gramercy, as a poore shepheardesse and her
VOL. II.




98         EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
Page may give: with promise (in what wee may)
never to proove ingratefull. For this Gentleman that
is hurt, yoong Rosader, hee is our good neighbour
and familiar acquaintance, weele pay with smiles, and
feed him with love-lookes; and though he be never
the fatter at the yeares ende, yet weele so hamper
him that he shall hold himselfe satisfied.
Saladyne, hearing this shepheardesse speake so
wisely, began more narrowly to pry into her perfection, and to survey all her liniaments with a curious
insight; so long dallying in the flame of her beautie,
that to his cost lie found her to be most excellent:
for Love that lurked in all these broyles to have a
blow or two, seeing the parties at the gaze, encountered them both with such a veny, that the stroke
pierst the heart so deep, as it could never after be
raced out. At last after hee had looked so long, till
Aliena waxt red, he returned her this answere.
Faire Shepheardesse, if Fortune graced me with
such good hap, as to doo you any favour, I hold my
selfe as contented, as if I had gotten a great conquest; for the reliefe of distressed women is the
speciall point, that Gentlemen are tyed unto by
honor: seeing then my hazard to rescue your harmes,
was rather duty than curtesie, thankes is more than
belongs to the requitall of such a favonr. But least
I might seeme either too coy or too carelesse of a
Gentlewomans proffer, Iwill take your kinde gramercie
for a recompence. All this while that he spake,
Ganimede lookt earnestly upon him, and sayd, Truly
Rosader, this Gentleman favours you much in the
feature of your face. No marvell (quoth he, gentle
Swayne) for tis my eldest brother Saladyne. Your
brother quoth Aliena? (and with that she blusht) he
is the more welcome, and I hold myselfe the more
his debter: and for that he hath in my behalf done
such a piece of service, if it please him to do me that




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


99


honor, I will cal him servant, and he shall cal me
mistresse. Content sweet mistresse quoth Saladyne,
and when I forget to call you so, I will be unmindfull
of mine owne selfe. Away with these quirkes and
quiddities of love quoth Rosader, and give me some
drinke, for I am passyng thirstie, and then I will
home for my woundes bleed sore, and I will have
them drest. Ganimede had teares in her eyes, and
passions in her heart to see her Rosader so payned,
and therefore stept hastily to the bottle, and filling
out some wine in a Mazer, shee spiced it with such
comfortable drugges as she had about her, and gave
it him, which did comfort Rosader: that rysing (with
the helpe of his brother) hee tooke his leave of them,
and went to his Lodge. Ganimede assoone as they
were out of sight, led his flocks downe to a vale, and
there under the shadow of a Beech tree sat downe,
and began to mourne the misfortunes of her sweet
heart.
And Aliena (as a woman passyng discontent) severing herself from her Ganimede, sitting under a Lymon
tree, began to sigh out the passions of her new Love,
and to meditate with hir selfe on this maner.
AIIENAES MEDITATION.
Aye me, now I see, and sorrowing sigh to see, that
Dianaes Lawrels are harbours for Venus Doves, that
there trace as well through the Lawnes, wantons as
chast ones, that Calisto be she never so charie, wil
cast one amorous eye at courting Jove; that Diana
her selfe will chaunge her shape, but shee will honour
Love in a shaddow; that maydens eyes bee they as
hard as Diamonds, yet Cupide hath drugs to make
them  more pliable than waxe.  See Alinda, how
Fortune and Love have interleagued themselves to be
thy foes: and to make thee theyr subject, or els an
abject, have inveigled thy sight with a most beautiful




I00


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


object. Alate thou didst hold Venus for a giglot, not
a goddesse, and now thou shalt bee forst to sue suppliant to her Deitie. Cupide was a boy and blinde,
but alas his eye had ayme inough to pierce thee to
the hart. While I lived in the Court, I held Love
in contempt, and in high seats I had small desires.
I knew not affection while I lived in dignitie, nor
could Venus counterchecke me, as long as my fortune
was majestie, and my thoughtes honour: and shall I
now bee high in desires, when I am made lowe by
Destinie? I have heard them say, that Love lookes
not at low cottages, that Venus jettes in Roabes not
ragges, that Cupide flyes so high, that hee scornes to
touch povertie with his heele. Tush Alinda, these
are but olde wives tales, and neither authenticall precepts, nor infallible principles; for experience tels
thee, that Peasauntes have theyr passions, as well as
Princes, that Swaynes as they have theyr labours, so
they have theyr amoures, and Love lurkes assoone
about a Sheepcoate, as a Pallaice.
Ah' Alinda, this day in avoyding a prejudice thou
art fallen into a deeper mischiefe, being rescued from
the robbers, thou art become captive to Saladyne:
and what then? Women must love, or they must
cease to live; and therefore did Nature frame them
faire, that they might be subject to fancy. But perhaps Saladines eye is levelde upon a more seemlier
Saint. If it be so, beare thy passions with patience,
say Love hath wronged thee, that hath not wroong
him, and if he be proud in contempt, be thou rich
in content, and rather dye than discover any desire:
for there is nothing more pretious in a woman, than
to conceale Love, and to die modest. He is the
sonne and heire of Sir John of Bourdeaux, a youth
comely enough: oh Alinda, too comely, els hadst
not thou been thus discontent: valiant, and that
fettered thine eye: wise, else hadst thou not been




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


10T


wonne; and all for these vertues, banished by thy
father, and therefore if he know thy parentage, he
wil hate the fruit for the tree, and condemne the
yoong sien for the old stocke. Well, howsoever, I
must love: and whomsoever I will; and whatsoever
betide, Aliena will thinke well of Saladyne: suppose
he of me as he please.
And with that fetching a deep sigh, she rise up,
and went to Ganimede: who all this while sat in a
great dumpe, fearing the imminent danger of her
friend Rosader, but now Aliena began to comfort her,
her selfe being over growne with sorrowes, and to
recall her from her melancholy with many pleasaunt
perswasions. Ganimede tooke all in the best part,
and so they went home togither after they had folded
their flocks, supping with old Coridon, who had provided their cates. Hee after supper, to passe away
the night while bed time, began a long discourse, how
Montanus the yoong shepheard, that was in love
with Phoebe, could by no meanes obtaine any favour
at her hands: but still pained in restlesse passions
remained a hopelesse and perplexed Lover. I would
I might (quoth Aliena) once see that Phoebe, is she
so faire, that she thinks no shepheard worthy of her
beauty? or so froward, that no love nor loyaltie will
content her, or so coy, that she requires a long time
to be wooed, or so foolish that she forgets, that like
a fop she must have a large harvest for a little corme?
I cannot distinguish (quoth Coridon) of these nice
qualities; but one of these dayes Ile bring Montanus
and her downe, that you may both see their persons,
1 Perhaps this is the oldest instance of the use of the word
fop in our language, although Shakespeare has it in " King
Lear." It means a foolish fellow. The sentence in the text
ought obviously to run thus, " or so foolish that she forgets, like
a fop, that she must have a large harvest for a little corne."Collier.




102      EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


and note their passions; and then where the blame
is, there let it rest. But this I am sure, quoth Coridon, if al maidens were of her mind, the world would
grow to a mad passe; for there would be great store
of wooing and litle wedding, many words and little
worship, much folly and no faith. At this sad sentence of Coridon so solempnly brought forth, Aliena
smiled: and because it waxt late, she and her page
went to bed, both of them having fleas in their eares
to keep them awake, Ganimede for the hurt of her
Rosader, and Aliena for the affection she bore to
Saladyne.  In this discontented humour they past
away the time, till falling on sleepe, their sences at
rest, love left them to their quiet slumbers: which
were not long. For as soon as Phoebus rose from his
Aurora, and began to mount him in the Skie, summoning Plough-swaines to their handy labour, Aliena
arose, and going to the couch where Ganimede lay,
awakened her page, and said the morning was farre
spent, the deaw small, and time called them away to
their foldes. Ah, ah quoth Ganimede, is the wind in
that doore? then in fayth I perceive that there is no
Diamond so hard but will yeeld to the file, no Cedar
so strong but the wind will shake, nor any mind so
chast but Love will change. Well Aliena, must
Saladyne be the man, and will it be a match? Trust
me he is faire and valiant, the sonne of a worthy
Knight, whome if he imitate in perfection, as he represents him in proportion, he is worthy of no lesse
than Aliena. But he is an exile, what then? I hope
my Mistresse respectes the vertues not the wealth,
and measures the qualities not the substance. Those
Dames that are like Danae, that like Jove in no
shape but in a shower of gold: I wish them husbands
with much wealth and witte, that the want of the one
may blemish the abundance of the other. It should
(my Aliena) stayne the honour of a shepheards life to




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


1o3


set the end of passions upon pelfe. Loves eyes looks
not so lowe as golde, there is no fees to be payd in
Cupides Courtes: and in elder time (as Coridon hath
told me) the Shepheards Love-gifts were apples and
chestnuts, and then their desires were loyall, and
their thoughts constant. But now
Quserenda pecunia primum, post nummos virtus.
And the time is grown to that in which Horace in
his Satyres wrote on:
omnis enim res
Virtus fama decus divina humanaque pulchris
Divitiis parent: quas qui constrinxerit ille
Clarus erit, fortis, justus, sapiens, etiam et rex
Et quicquid voletBut Aliena lette it not be so with thee in thy fancies,
but respect his faith and there an ende.  Aliena
hearing Ganimede thus forward to further Saladyne
in his affections, thought shee kist the child for the
nurses sake, and woed for him that she might please
Rosader, made this reply: Why Ganimede, whereof
growes this perswasion? Hast thou seene Love in
my lookes? or are mine eyes growne so amorous,
that they discover some newe entertayned fancies?
If thou measurest my thoughts by my countenance,
thou maiest prove as ill a Phisiognomer, as the Lapidarie, that aymes at the secret vertues of the Topaze,
by the exterior shadow of the stone. The operation
of the Agate is not known by the strakes, nor the
Diamond prized by his brightnesse, but by his hardnesse. The Carbuncle that shineth most, is not ever
the most pretious: and the Apothecaries choose not
flowers for their colours, but for their vertues.
Womens faces are not alwayes Calenders of fancie,
nor do their thoughts and their lookes ever agree;
for when their eyes are fullest of favors, then are they
oft most emptie of desire; and when they seeme to




Io4


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


frowne at disdain, then are they most forward to
affection. If I bee melancholie, then Ganimede, tis
not a consequence that I am intangled with the perfection of Saladyne. But seeing fire cannot be hid
in the straw, nor Love kept so covert but it will be
spyed, what shoulde friends conceale fancies? Knowe
my Ganimede, the beautie and valour, the wit and
prowesse of Saladyne hath fettered Aliena so farre, as
there is object pleasing to her eyes, but the sight of
Saladyne; and if Love have done me justice, to wrap
his thoughts in the foldes of my face, and that he be
as deeply enamoured as I am passionate: I tell thee
Ganimede, that there shall not be much wooing, for
she is already wonne, and what needes a longer
battery. I am glad quoth Ganimede, that it shall be
thus proportioned, you to match with Saladyne, and I
with Rosader: thus have the Destenies favoured us
with some pleasing aspect, that have made us as
private in our loves, as familiar in our fortunes.
With this Ganimede start up, made her ready, and
went into the fields with Aliena: where unfolding
their flockes, they sate them downe under an Olive}
tree, both of them amorous, and yet diversely affected:
Aliena joying in the excellence of Saladyne, and
Ganimede sorowing for the wounds of Rosader, not
quiet in thought till shee might heare of his health.
As thus both of them sate in their dumpes, they
might espie where Coridon came running towards
them (almost out of breath with his hast). What
newes with you (quoth Aliena) that you come in such
post? Oh Mistres (quoth Coridon) you have a long
time desired to see Phoebe the faire shepheardesse
whom Montauus loves; so now if it please you and
Ganimede to walke with mee to yonder thicket, there
shall you see Montanus and her sitting by a Fountaine, he courting her with her Countrey ditties, and
she coy as if she held love in disdaine.




EUPHZUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


Io5


The newes were so welcome to the two Lovers,
that up they rose, and went with Coridon. Assoone
as they drew nigh the thicket, they might espie where
Phoebe sate, (the fairest shepherdesse in all Arden,
and he the frolickst swaine in the whole forrest) she
in a petticote of scarlet, covered with a green mantle,
and to shrowd her from the Sunne, a chaplet of roses:
from under which appeared a face full of Natures excellence, and two such eyes as might have amated a
greater man than Montanus, At gaze uppon this
gorgeous Nymph sate the Shepheard, feeding his eyes
with her favours, wooing with such piteous lookes,
and courting with such deepe strained sighs, as would
have made Diana her selfe to have beene compassionate, at last fixing his lookes on the riches of her
face, his head on his hande, and his elbow on his
knee, he sang this mournefull Dittie:
MONTANUS SONNET.
A Turtle sate upon a leavelesse tree,
Mourning her absent pheare,
With sad and sorry cheare:
About her wondring stood
The Citizens of Wood,
And whilest her plumes she rents,
And for her love laments,
The stately trees complaine them,
The birds with sorrow paine them
Each one that doth her view,
Her paine and sorrowes rue;
But were the sorrowes knowne,
That me hath overthrowne,
Oh how would Phoebe sigh, if shee did looke on me?
The love sicke Polypheme that could not see,
Who on the barraine shore,
His fortunes doth deplore,
And melteth all in mone
For Galatea gone;
And with his piteous cries,
Afflicts both earth and bkies,




io6


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


And to his woe betooke,
Doth breake both pipe and hooke:
For whom complaines the Morne,
For whom the Sea Nymphs mourne:
Alas, his paine is nought;
For were my woe but thought,
Oh how would Phoebe sigh, if shee did looke on me?
Beyond compare my paine;
Yet glad am I,
If gentle Phoebe daine
To see her Montan die.
After this, Montanus felt his passions so extreame,
that he fell into this exclamation against the injustice
of LoveHelas Tirant plein de rigueur,'
Modere un peu ta violence:
Que te sert si grande dispense?
C'est trop de flammes pour un cueur.
Esparguez en une estincelle,
Puis fay ton effort d'esmovoir,
La fiere qui ne veut point voir,
En quel feu je brousle pour elle.
Execute Amour ce dessein,
Et rabaisse un peu son audace,
Son cuer ne doit estre de glace,
Bien que elle ait de Niege le sein.
Montanus ended his Sonet with such a volley of
sighs, and such a streame of teares, as might have
moved any but Phoebe to have granted him favor.
But she measuring all his passions with a coy disdaine, and triumphing in the poore shepheards patheticall humors, smiling at his martyrdome as though
love had beene no maladie, scornfully warbled out
this Sonet.
1 Lodge appears to have been rather vain of his French compositions, and this is not the only instance in which he has introduced them, either in his own works or as laudatory of those
of others. To put French verses into the mouth of Montanus is
a gross piece of indecorum as respects the preservation of character.- Collier.




EUPI1UES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


TO7


PHCEBES SONET, A REPLIE TO MONTANUS PASSION.
Downe a downe,
Thus Phyllis sung
By fancie once distressed:
Who so by foolish love are stung,
Are worthily oppressed.
And so sing I. With a downe, downe, &c.
When Love was first begot,
And by the movers will
Did fall to humane lot
His solace to fulfill,
Devoid of all deceipt,
A chast and holy fire
Did quicken mans conceipt,
And womens brest inspire
The Gods that saw the good
That mortalls did approve,
With kind and holy mood,
Began to talke of Love,
Downe a downe,
Thus Phyllis sung
By fancie once distressed, &c.
But during this accord,
A wonder strange to heare:
Whitest Love in deed and word
Most faythfull did appeare,
False semblance came in place,
By jealousie attended,
And with a double face
Both love and fancie blended.
Which make the Gods forsake,
And men from fancie flie,
And maidens scorne a make,
Forsooth and so will I.
Downe a downe,
Thus Phyllis sung
By fancie once distressed:
Who so by foolish love are stung
Are worthily oppressed.
And so sing I, with downe, a downe, a downe a.
Montanus hearing the cruell resolution of Phoebe,
was so overgrowne with passions, that from amorous




io8


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


Ditties he fel flat into these tearmes: Ah Phcebe
quoth he, wherof art thou made, that thou regardest
not thy maladie? Am I so hatefull an object, that
thine eyes condemne mee for an abject? or so base,
that thy desires cannot stoope so low as to lend me a
gratious looke? My passions are many, my loves
more, my thoughts loyaltie, and my fancie faith: al
devoted in humble devoire to the service of Phoebe;
and shall I reape no reward for such fealties? The
Swaines dayly labours is quit with the evenings hire,
the Ploughmans toyle is eased with the hope of come,
what the Oxe sweates out at the plough, he fatneth at
the cribbe: but infortunate Montanus, hath no salve
for his sorrowes, nor any hope of recompence for the
hazard of his perplexed passions.  If Phoebe, time
maye plead the proofe of my truth, twise seaven winters have I loved faire Phoebe: if constancie be a cause
to further my sute, Montanus thoughts have bene
sealed in the sweete of Phoebes excellence, as far from
change as shee from love: if outward passions may
discover inward affections, the furrows in my face may
discover the sorrows of my heart, and the mappe of
my looks the griefs of my mind. Thou seest (Phoebe)
the teares of despayre have made my cheeks full of
wrinckles, and my scalding sighes have made the ayre
Eccho her pittie conceived in my plaintes: Philomele
hearing my passions, hath left her mournfull tunes to
listen to the discourse of my miseries. I have pourtrayed in everie tree the beauty of my Mistres, and the
despaire of my loves. What is it in the woods cannot
witnes my woes? and who is it would not pittie my
plaints? only Phcebe. And why? Because I am
Montanus, and she Phoebe: I a worthies Swaine, and
1 [Old copy, object. The word substituted, as Mr Collier
suggests, seems the true one, "as we have had before the same
species of antithesis."]




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


o109


she the most excellent of all fairies. Beautifull Phoebe,
oh might I say pittifull, then happy were I though I
tasted but one minute of that good hap. Measure
Montanus, not by his fortunes, but by his loves, and
ballance not his wealth, but his desires, and lende but
one gratious looke to cure a heape of disquieted cares:
if not, ah if Phoebe cannot love, let a storme of frownes
end the discontent of my thoughts, and so let me
perish in my desires, because they are above my deserts: onely at my death this favour cannot be denied
me, that al shal say Montanus died for love of hard
hearted Phoebe. At these wordes she fild her face
full of frowns, and made him this short and sharpe
reply.
Importunate shepheard, whose loves are lawlesse,
because restlesse: are thy passions so extreame, that
thou canst not conceale them with patience? or art
thou so folly-sicke, that thou must needes be fanciesicke, and in thy affection tyed to such an exigent, as
none serves but Phoebe? Wel sir, if your market can
be made nowhere els, home againe, for your Mart is at
the fayrest. Phoebe is no lettice for your lips, and
her grapes hang so high, that gaze at them you may,
but touch them you cannot. Yet Montanus I speak
not this in pride, but in disdaine: not that I scorne
thee, but that I hate love: for I count it as great
honor to triumph over fancie as over fortune. Rest
thee content therfore Montanus, cease from thy loves,
and bridle thy lookes, quench the sparkles before they
grow to a further flame; for in loving mee thou shalt
but live by losse, and what thou utterest in words are
all written in the wind. Wert thou (Montanus) as
faire as Paris, as hardy as Hector, as constant as
Troylus, as loving as Leander, Phoebe could not
love, because she cannot love at all: and therefore if thou pursue me with Phoebus, I must flie with
Daphne.




ITO      EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


Ganimede overhearing all these passions of Montanus, could not brooke the crueltie of Phoebe, but
starting from behind the bush said: And if Damzell
you fled from mee, I would transforme you as Daphne
to a bay, and then in contempt trample your branches
under my feet. Phoebe at this sodaine reply was
amazed, especially when shee saw so faire a Swaine as
Ganimede, blushing therefore she would have bene
gone: but that he held her by the hand, and prosecuted his reply thus, What shepherdesse, so faire, and
so cruell? Disdaine beseemes not cottages, nor coynesse maids: for either may be condemned to be too
proud, or too froward. Take heed faire Nymph, that
in despising love, you be not over-reacht with love,
and in shaking of all, shape yourselfe to your owne
shadow, and so with Narcissus prove passionat and
yet unpitied. Oft have I heard, and sometime have I
seene, high disdain turnd to hot desires. Because
thou art beautifull be not so coy: as there is nothing
more fair, so there is nothing more fading; as momentary as the shadowes which growes from a dowdy
Sunne. Such (my faire shepheardesse) as disdaine in
youth desire in age, and then are they hated in winter,
that might have been loved in the prime. A wringled
mayd is like a parched Rose, that is cast up in Coffers
to please the smell, not worne in the hand to content
the eye. There is no folly in Love to had I wist:
and therefore be rulde by mee. Love while thou art
yoong, least thou be disdained when thou art olde.
Beautie nor time cannot be recalde, and if thou love,
like of Montanus; for if his desires are many, so his
deserts are great.
Phoebe all this while gazed on the perfection of
Ganimede, as deeply enamored on his perfection, as
Montanus inveigled with hers: for her eye made survey of his excellent feature, which she found so rare,
that she thought the ghost of Adonis had been leapt




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACI.E.


III


from Eliziumin the shape of a swaine. When she blusht
at her owne folly to looke so long on a stranger, she
mildlymade ariswere to Ganimede thus. I cannot deny
sir but I have heard of Love, though I never felt Love;
and have read of such a goddesse as Venus, though I
never sawe any but her picture; and, perhaps,-and
with that she waxed red and bashfull, and with all
silent: which Ganimede perceiving, commended in
her selfe the bashfulnesse of the mayd, and desired her
to go forward.  And perhaps sir (quoth she) mine
eye hath been more prodigal to day than ever before:
and with that she stayd againe, as one greatly passionate and perplexed. Aliena seeing the hare through
the maze, bade her forward with her prattle: but in
vaine, for at this abrupt period she broke off, and
with her eyes full of teares, and her face covered with
a vermillion die, she sat downe and sighed. Whereupon, Aliena and Ganimede seeing the shepheardesse
in such a straunge plight, left Phoebe with her Montanus, wishing hir friendly that she would be more
pliant to Love, least in penance Venus joyned her to
some sharpe repentance. Phoebe made no reply, but
fetcht such a sigh, that Eccho made relation of her
plaint, giving Ganimede such an adieu with a piercing
glance, that the amorous Girle-boy perceived Phoebe
was pincht by the heele.
But leaving Phoebe to the follies of her new fancie,
and Montanus to attend uppon her: to Saladyne,
who all this last night could not rest for the remembrance of Aliena; insomuch that he framed a sweet
conceipted Sonnet to content his humour, which hee
put in his bosome: being requested by his brother
to go to Aliena and Ganimede, to signify unto them
that his woundes were not dangerous. A more happy
message could not happen to Saladyne, that taking
his Forrest bill on his neck, hee trudgeth in all haste
towardes the plaines, where Alienaes flockes did feede:




I 112


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


comming just to the place when they returned from
Montanus and Phoebe. Fortune so conducted this
jolly Forrester, that he encountred them and Coridon,
whom hee presently saluted in this manner:
Faire shepheardesse, and too faire, unless your
beautie bee tempred with curtesie, and the liniaments
of the face graced with the lowlinesse of mynd: as
many good fortunes to you and your Page, as yourselves can desire, or imagine. My brother Rosader
(in the grief of his green wounds), stil myndful of his
friends, hath sent me to you with a kynd salute, to
shew that he brooks his paines with the more patience,
in that he holds the parties precious in whose defence
hee received the prejudice. The report of your welfare, will be a great comfort to his distempered body
and distressed thoughts, and therefore he sent me with
a strickt charge to visite you. And you (quoth Aliena)
are the more welcome in that you are messenger from
so kynd a Gentleman, whose paines we compassionate
with as great sorrow, as he brookes them with griefe:
and his wounds breeds in us as many passions, as in
him extremities: so that what disquiet he feeles in
bodie, we partake in heart. Wishing (if wee might)
that your mishap might salve his malady. But seeing our wils yeelds him litle ease, our orizons are
never idle to the Gods for his recovery. I pray youth
(quoth Ganimede with teares in his eyes) when the
Surgion searcht him, held hee his woundes dangerous?
Dangerous (quoth Saladyne) but not mortall: and the
sooner to be cured, in that his patient is not impatient
of any paines: wherupon my brother hopes within
these ten dayes to walke abroad and visite you himselfe. In the meane time (quoth Ganimede) say his
Rosalynde commends her to him, and bids him be of
good cheare. I knowe not (quoth Saladyne) who that
Rosalynde is, but whatsoever she is, her name is
never out of his mouth: but amidst the deepest of




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


"I3


his passions hee useth Rosalynde as a charme to
appease all sorrowes with patience. Insomuch that I
conjecture my brother is in love, and shee some paragon that holdes his heart perplexed: whose name he
oft records with sighes, sometimes with teares, straight
with joye, then with smiles; as if in one person Love
had lodged a Chaos of confused passions. Wherin I
have noted the variable disposition of fancy, that lyke
the Polypein colours, so it changethintosundryhumors,
beeing as it should seeme, a combat myxt with disquiet, and a bitter pleasure wrapt in a sweet prejudice,
lyke to the Sinople tree, whose blossomes delight the
smell, and whose fruit infects the taste.
By my fayth (quoth Aliena) sir, you are deep read
in love, or growes your insight into affection by experience? Howsoever, you are a great philosopher in
Venus principles, els could you not discover our secret
aphorismes. But sir our countrey amours are not lyke
your Courtly fancies, nor is our wooing like your
suing; for pore shepheards never plaine them till
Love paine them, where the courtiers eyes is full of
passions, when his heart is most free from affection:
they court to discover their eloquence, wee wooe to
ease our sorrowes: every faire face with them must
have a new fancy sealed with a fore-finger kisse, and
a farre-fetcht sigh: wee heere love one, and live to
that one, so long as life can maintaine love, using few
ceremonies because we know fewe subtilties, and litle
eloquence for that we lightly accompt of flattery:
onelyfaith and troth thats shepheards wooing, and
sir how lyke you of this? So (quoth Saladyne) as I
could tie my self to such love. What, and looke so
low as a Shepheardesse, being the sonne of Sir John
of Bourdeaux? such desires were a disgrace to your
honors.  And with that surveying exquisitely every
] [Discolur in text.]


VOL. II.


H




I 14        EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
part of him, as uttering all these wordes in a deepe
passion, she espied the paper in his bosom; wherupon growing jealous that it was some amorous Sonnet,
she sodeinly snacht it out of his bosome, and asked if
it were anye secret? She was bashfull, and Saladyne
blusht: which she perceiving sayd: Nay then sir, if
you waxe redde, my life for yours tis some Love
matter: I will see your Mistresse name, her praises,
and your passions. And with that she lookt on it:
which was written to this effect:
SALADYNES SONNET.
If it be true that heavens eternall course
With restlesse sway and ceaseless turning glides,
If aire inconstant be, and swelling sourse
Turne and returns with many fluent tides,
If earth in winter summers pride estrange,
And Nature seemeth onely faire in change.
If it be true that our immortall spright,
Derivde from heavenly pure, in wandring still
In noveltie and strangenesse doth delight,
And by discoverent power discerneth ill,
And if the body for to worke his best
Doth with the seasons change his place of rest.
Whence comes it that (inforst by furious Skies)
I change both place and soyle, but not my hart?
Yet salve not in this change my maladies?
Whence growes it that each object workes my smart?
Alas I see my faith procures my misse,
And change in love against my nature is.
Et florida pungunt.
Aliena having read over his Sonnet, began thus
pleasantly to descant upon it. I see, Saladyne (quoth
she) that as the Sun is no Sun without his brightnesse,
nor the Diamond accounted for precious unlesse it be
hard: so men are not men unlesse they be in love;
and their honors are measured by their amours not
their labors, counting it more commendable for a




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


I" 5


Gentleman to be ful of fancy, than full of vertue. I
had thought
Otia si tollas periere Cupidinis arcus,
Contemptaeque jacent, & sine luce faces:
But I see Ovids axiome is not authenticall, for even
labour hath her loves, and extremitie is no Pumice
stone to race out fancy. Your selfe exiled from your
wealth, friendes and country by Torismond, (sorrowes
inough to suppresse affections) yet amidst the depth
of these extremities, Love wil be Lord, and shew his
power to bee more predominant than Fortune. But
I pray you sir (if without offence I may crave it) are
they some newe thoughtes, or some olde desires?
Saladyne (that now saw opportunitie pleasant) thought
to strike while the yron was hotte, and therefore
taking Aliena by the hand sate downe by her; and
Ganimede to give them leave to their Loves, found
her selfe busie about the foldes, whilest Saladyne fell
into this prattle with Aliena.
Faire Mistresse, if I be blunt in discovering my
affections, and use little eloquence in levelling out my
loves: I appeale for pardon to your own principles,
that say, shepheards use few ceremonies, for that they
acquaint themselves with few subtilties: to frame my
selfe therefore to your country fashion with much faith
and little flattery, know bewtifull Shepheardesse, that
whylest I lived in the Court I knew not loves comber,
but I helde affection as a toy, not as a malady; using
fancy as the Hiperborei doo their flowers, which they
weare in their bosome all day, and cast them in the
fire for fuell at night. I lyked all because I loved
none, and who was most faire, on her I fed mine eye;
but as charily as the Bee, that assoone as shee hath
suckt honny from the Rose, flies straight to the next
Marigold. Living thus at mine owne list I wondred
at such as were in love, and when I read their passions,




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


I tooke them onely for poemes that flowed from the
quicknesse of the wyt, not the sorrowes of the heart.
But now (faire Nymph) since I became a Forrester,
Love hath taught me such a lesson that I must confesse his deitie and dignitie, and saie as there is
nothing so pretious as beuty, so there is nothing more
piercing than fancy. For since first I arrived in this
place, and mine eye tooke a curious survey of your
excellence, I have been so fettered with your beautie
and vertue, as (sweet Aliena) Saladyne without further
circumstance loves Aliena. I could paynt out my
desires with long ambages, but seeing in many words
lyes mistrust, and that truth is ever naked: let this
suffice for a country wooing, Saladyne loves Aliena,
and none but Aliena.
Although these wordes were most heavenly harmony
in the eares of the Shepheardesse: yet to seeme coye
at the first courting, and to disdaine Love howsoever
she desired Love, she made this reply:
Ah Saladyne, though I seeme simple, yet I am more
subtile than to swallow the hooke because it hath a
painted bayt as men are wily so women are wary,
especially if they have that wyt by others harmes to
beware. Do we not know Saladyne, mens toongs are
like Mercuries pipe, that can inchant Argus with an
hundreth eyes? and their words are prejudiciall as the
charmes of Circes, that transforme men into monsters.
If such Syrens sing, we poore women had need
stoppe our eares, least in hearing wee prove so foolish
hardy as to believe them, and so perish in trusting
much, and suspecting litle. Saladyne, Piscator ictus
saj5it, hee that hath been once poisoned, and afterwards fears not to bowse of every potion, is worthy to
suffer double pennance. Give mee leave then to mistrust, though I doo not condemne. Saladyne is now
in love with Aliena, hee a Gentleman of great parentage, she a Shephardesse of meane parents; hee honor



EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


II7


able, and shee poore: Can love consist of contrarieties?
Wyll the Fawlcon pearch with the Kistrelle,1 the Lyon
harbor with the Woolfe? Wil Venus joyne roabes
and rags togither?  Or can there be a sympathie
betweene a King and a begger? Then, Saladyne
how can I believe thee that love should unite our
thoughts, when Fortune hath set such a difference
betweene our degrees?  But suppose thou likest
Alienaes bewtie, men in their fancy resemble the
waspe, which scornes that flower from which she hath
fetcht her waxe; playing lyke the inhabitants of the
Iland Tenerifa, who when they have gathered the sweet
spices, use the trees for fuell: so men when they have
glutted themselves with the faire of women faces,
holde them for necessary evils: and wearied with that
which they seemed so much to love, cast away fancy
as children doo their Rattles: and loathing that which
so deeply before they liked, especially such as take
love in a minute, and have their eyes attractive lyke
jeate, apt to entertaine any object, are as redie to let
it slip againe. Saladyne hearing how Aliena harpt
still upon one string, which was the doubt of mens
constancy, he broke off her sharpe invective thus:
I grant Aliena (quoth hee) many men have done
amisse, in proving soone ripe and soone rotten, but
particular instances inferre no generall conclusions:
and therefore I hope what others have faulted in,
shall not prejudice my favours. I wil not use sophistry
to confirme my love, for that is subtiltie: nor long
discourses, least my wordes might be thought more
than my fayth: but if this will suffice, that by the
honor of a Gentleman I love Aliena, and wooe Aliena,
not to crop the blossomes and reject the tree, but to
consumate my faithfull desires, in the honorable ende
of marriage.
[Old copy, Kistresse.]




I I8


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


At the word marriage: Aliena stood in a maze what
to answere: fearing that if shee were too coy to drive
him away with her disdaine, and if she were too curteous
to discover the heate of her desires. In a dilemma
thus what to doo, at last this she sayd. Saladyne
ever since I saw thee, I favoured thee; I cannot dissemble my desires, because I see thou doest faithfully
manifest thy thoughtes, and in liking thee I love thee so
farre as mine honor holdes fancy still in suspence;
but if I knew thee as verteous as thy father, or as well
qualified as thy brother Rosader, the doubt should be
quickly decided: but for this time to give thee an
answere, assure thy selfe this, I will either marry with
Saladyne, or still live a virgine: and with this they
strained one anothers hand. Which Ganimede espying, thinking hee had had his Mistresse long inough
at shrift, sayd: what, a match or no?  A match
(quoth Aliena) or els it were an ill market. I am
glad (quoth Ganimede) I wold Rosader were wel
here to make up a messe. Well remembred (quoth
Saladyne) I forgot I left my brother Rosader alone:
and therefore least being solitary hee should encrease
his sorrowes, I wil hast me to him. May it please
you then to command mee any service to him, I am
readie to bee a dutiful messenger. Onely at this time
commend me to him (quoth Aliena) and tell him,
though we cannot pleasure him we pray for him,
And forget not (quoth Ganimede) my commendations; but say to him that Rosalynd sheds as many
teares from her heart, as he drops of blood from his
wounds, for the sorow of his misfortunes, feathering all
her thoughts with disquiet, till his welfare procure her
content: say thus (good Saladyne) and so farwel.
He having his message, gave a courteous adieu to
them both, especially to Aliena: and so playing loath
to depart, went to his brother.' But Aliena, shee
perplexed and yet joyfull, past away the day pleas



EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


Ii9


antly, still praising the perfection of Saladyne, not
ceasing to chat of her new Love till evening drew on,
and then they folding their sheep, went home to bed.
Where we leave them and return to Phoebe.
Phoebe fiered with the uncouth flame of love,
returned to her fathers house, so gauled with restlesse
passions, as now shee began to acknowledge, that as
there was no flower so fresh but might be parched
with the Sunne, no tree so strong but might be shaken
with a storme, so there was no thought so chast, but
Time armed with Love could make amorous; for
shee that held Diana for the Goddesse of her devotion, was now fain to flie to the Aulter of Venus, as
suppliant now with praiers, as she was froward afore
with disdaine. As shee lay in her bed, she called to
mynd the several bewties of yoong Ganimede: first
his locks, which being amber hued, passeth the
wreathe that Phoebus puts on to make his front
glorious: his browe of yvorie, was like the seate where
Love and Majestie sits inthronde to enchaine Fancy;
his eyes as bright as the burnishing of the heaven,
darting forth frowns with disdaine, and smiles with
favour, lightning such lookes as would enflame
desire, were she wrapt in the Circle of the frozen
Zoane: in his cheekes the vermillion teinture of the
Rose florished upon naturall Alabaster, the blushe of
the Morne and Lunaes silver showe were so lively
pourtrayed, that the Troyan that filles out wine to
Jupiter was not halfe so bewtifull: his face was full
of pleasance, and al the rest of his liniaments proportioned with such excellence, as Phoebe was fettred
in the sweetnes of his feature. The idea of these
perfections tumbling in her mynde, made the poore
Shepheardesse so perplexed, as feeling a pleasure
tempred with intollerable paines, and yet a disquiet
mixed with a content, shee rather wished to die, than
to live in this amorous anguish. But wishing is litle




I20


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


worth in such extreames, and therefore was she forst
to pine in her malady, without any salve for her sorrows. Reveale it she durst not, as daring in such
matters to make none her secretarie, and to conceale
it, why it doubled her griefe: for as fire supprest
growes to the greater flame, and the Current stopt to
the more violent streame: so Love smothered, wrings
the hart with the deeper passions.
Perplexed thus with sundry agonies, her foode
began to faile, and the disquiet of her mind began to
worke a distemperature of her body, that, to be short
Phoebe fell extreme sicke, and so sicke as there was
almost left no recovery of health. Her father seeing
his faire Phoebe thus distrest, sent for his friends, who
sought by medecine to cure, and by counsaile to
pacifie, but all in vaine; for although her body was
feeble through long fasting, yet did shee magis agrotare animo qua m co0ore. Which her friends perceyved and sorrowed at, but salve it they could not.
The newes of her sicknesse was bruted abroad
through all the Forrest: which no sooner came to
Montanus eare, but hee like a mad man came to visit
Phoebe. Where sitting by her bed side, he began his
Exordium with so many teares and sighes, that she
perceiving the extremitie of his sorrows, began now
as a Lover to pittie them, although Ganimede helde
her from redressing them.  Montanus craved to
know the cause of her sicknesse, tempred with secret
plaints: but she answered him (as the rest) with
silence, having still the forme of Ganimede in her
mind, and conjecturing how she might reveale her
loves. To utter it in wordes she found her selfe too
bashfull, to discourse by any friend shee would not
trust any in her amours, to remain thus perplexed
still and conceale all, it was a double death. Whereupon for her last refuge she resolved to write unto
Ganimede: and therefore desired Montanus to absent




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


121


himselfe a while, but not to depart: for she would
see if she could steale a nappe. Hee was no sooner
gone out of the chamber, but reaching to her standish,
shee tooke penne and paper, and wrote a letter to
this effect.
PHCEBE TO GANIMEDE, WISHETH WHAT SHE WANTS
HER SELFE.
Faire Shepheard (and therefore is Phoebe infortunate, because thou art so faire) although hitherto
mine eyes were adamants to resist love, yet I no
sooner saw thy face, but they became amorous to
intertaine Love; more devoted to fancie, than before
they were repugnant to affection, addicted to the one
by nature, and drawn to the other by beauty: which
being rare, and made the more excellent by many
vertues, hath so snared the freedome of Phoebe, as
shee restes at thy mercie, either to bee made the
most fortunate of all maydens, or the most miserable
of all women. Measure not Ganimede my loves by
my wealth, nor my desires by my degrees; but thinke
my thoughtes as full of faith, as thy face of amiable
favors. Then, as thou knowest thy selfe most beautifull, suppose me most constant. If thou deemest niee
hard harted because I hated Montanus, thinke I was
forst to it by fate: if thou saist I am kind hearted,
because so lightly I loved thee at the first looke,
think I was driven to it by desteny, whose influence
as it is mighty, so is it not to be resisted. If my
fortunes were anything but infortunate love, I would
strive with fortune: but he that wrests against the
will of Venus, seeks to quench fire with oyle, and to
thrust out one thorn by putting in another. If then
Ganimede, love enters at the eye, harbours in the
heart, and wil neither be driven out with phisicke nor
reason: pittie mee, as one whose malady hath no
salve but from thy sweet self, whose griefe hath no




I222


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


ease but through thy grant, and think I am a Virgin,
who is deeply wrongd, when I am forst to woo, and
conjecture love to be strong, that is more forceable
than nature. Thus distressed unlesse by thee eased,
I expect either to lyve fortunate by thy favour, or die
miserable by thy denyall. Living in hope. Farewell.
She that must be thine,
or not be at all,
PHCEBE.
To this letter she annexed this Sonnet:
SONNETTO.
My boate doth passe the straights
Of seas incenst with fire,
Filde with forgetfulnesse:
Amidst the winters night,
A blind and carelesse boy
(Brought up by fond desire)
Doth guide me in the sea
Of sorrow and despight.
For every oare, he sets
A ranke of foolish thoughts,
And cuts (instead of wave)
A hope without distresse:
The winds of my deepe sighes
(That thunder still for noughts)
Have split my sayles with feare,
With care and heavinesse.
A mightie storme of teares,
A blacke and hideous cloude,
A thousand fierce disdaines
Doe slacke the haleyards oft:
Till ignorance doe pull,
And errour hale the shrowds,
No starre for safetie shines,
No Phoebe from aloft.
Time hath subdued art, and joy is slave to woe:
Alas (Loves guid) be kind, what, shall I perish so?
This Letter and the Sonnet being ended, she could
find no fit messenger to send it by, and therefore she




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


I23


called in Montanus, and intreated him to carry it to
Ganimede. Although poore Montanus saw day at a
little hole, and did perceive what passion pinched
her: yet (that he might seeme dutifull to his Mistresse
in all service) he dissembled the matter, and became
a willing Messenger of his own Martyrdome. And so
(taking the Letter) went the next morne very earlie to
the plaines where Aliena fedde hir flocks, and there he
found Ganimede, sitting under a Pomegranade tree sorrowing for the hard fortunes of her Rosader. Montanus saluted him, and according to his charge delivered
Ganimede the letters, which (he said)came from Phoebe.
At this the wanton blusht, as being abasht to thinke
what news should come from an unknowne Shepheardesse, but taking the letters, unript the seales, and read
over the discourse of Phoebes fancies. When she
had read and over-read them, Ganimede beganne to
smile, and looking on Montanus, fell into a great
laughter; and with that called Aliena, to whom shee
shewed the writinges.  Who having perused them,
conceipted them very pleasantly, and smiled to see
how Love had yokt her, who before would not stoop
to the lure. Aliena whispering Ganimede in the eare,
and saying: Knew Phoebe what want there were in
thee to performe her will, and how unfit thy kind is
to be kind to her, she would be more wise, and lesse
enamoured; But leaving that, I pray thee let us sport
with this Swaine. At that word Ganimede, turning to
Montanus, began to glaunce at him thus.
I pray thee tell me Shepheard, by those sweet
thoughts and pleasing sighes that grow from my Mistresse favours, art thou in love with Phoebe? Oh,
my youth, quoth Montanus, were Phcebe so farre in
love with me, my flocks would be more fatte, and
their Maister more quiet; for through the sorrows of
my discontent growes the leannesse of my sheepe.
Alas poor Swaine quoth Ganimede, are thy passions




124


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


so extreame, or thy fancie so resolute, that no reason
wil blemish the pride of thy affection, and race out
that which thou strivest for without hope? Nothing
can make me forget Phcebe, while Montanus forget
himselfe; for those characters which true love hath
stamped, neither the envie of time nor fortune can
wipe away.  Why but Montanus quoth Ganimede,
enter with a deep insight into the despaire of thy
fancies, and thou shalt see the depth of thine owne
follies; for (poore man) thy progresse in love is a regresse to losse, swimming again the streame with the
Crab, and flying with Apis Indica against wind and
weather. Thou seekest with Phoebus to win Daphne,
and shee flies faster than thou canst follow: thy desires soare with the Hobbie, but her disdain reacheth
higher than thou canst make wing. I tell thee Montanus, in courting Phoebe, thou barkest with the
Wolves of Syria against the Moone, and roavest at
such a marke with thy thoughts, as is beyond the
pitch of thy bow, praying to love, when love is pittilesse, and thy maladie rernedilesse. For proofe Montanus, read these letters, wherein thou shalt see thy
great follyes and little hope.
With that Montanus tooke them and perused them,
but with such sorrow in his lookes, as they bewrayed
a sourse of confused passions in his heart, at every
line his colour changed, and every sentence was ended
with a period of sighes.
At last, noting Phoebes extreame desire toward
Ganimede, and her disdaine towards him, giving
Ganimede the letter, the Shepheard stood as though
he had neyther won nor lost. Which Ganimede perceiving, wakened him out of his dreame thus: Now
Montanus, doest thou see thou vowest great service
and obtainest but little reward: but in lieu of thy
loyaltie, she maketh thee as Bellephoron, carry thine
owne bane. Then drinke not willingly of that potion




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


125


wherein thou knowest is poyson, creepe not to her
that cares not for thee. What Montanus, there are
many as faire as Phoebe, but most of all more courteous than Phoebe. I tell thee Shepheard, favour is
Loves fuell: then since thou canst not get that, lette
the flame vanish into smoake, and rather sorrowe for
a while, then repent thee for ever.
I tell thee Ganimede (quoth Montanus) as they
which are stung with the Scorpion, cannot be recovered but by the Scorpion, nor he that was wounded
with Achilles lance bee cured but with the same
truncheon: so Apollo was faine to cry out, that love
was onely eased with love, and fancy healed by no
medicine but favour. Phoebus had hearbs to heale
all hurts but this passion, Cyrces had charms for all
chances but for affection, and Mercurie subtill reasons
to refell all griefs but love. Perswasions are bootles,
reason lends no remedy, counsell no comfort, to such
whome fancie hath made resolute; and therefore
though Phoebe loves Ganimede, yet Montanus must
honor none but Phoebe.
Then quoth Ganimede, may I rightly tearme thee a
despairing lover, that livest without joy, and lovest
without hope: but what shal I do Montanus, to pleasure thee? shall I despise Phoebe, as she disdaines
thee? Oh (quoth Montanus) that were to renew my
griefs, and double my sorrows: for the sight of her
discontent were the censure of my death.  Alas,
Ganimede, though I perish in my thoughts, let not
her die in her desires. Of all passions, love is most
impatient: then lette not so faire a creature as Phoebe
sinke under the burden of so deepe distresse. Being
love sicke, she is proved hart sicke, and all for the
beautie of Ganimede. Thy proportion hath intangled
her affections, and shee is snared in the beauty of thy
excellence. Then sith she loves thee so deare, mislike not her deadly. Be thou paramour to such a




126      EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


paragon: she hath beauty to please thine eye, and
flockes to enrich thy store. Thou canst not wish for
more than thou shalt win by her; for she is beautifull, vertuous and wealthy, three deepe perswasions
to make love frolicke. Aliena seeing Montanus cut
it against the haire, and pleade that Ganimede ought
to love Phoebe, when his onely life was the love of
Phoebe, answered him thus. Why Montanus dost
thou further this motion? seeing if Ganimede marry
Phoebe thy market is cleane mard. Ah mistres (q. he)
so hath love taught me to honour. Phoebe, that I would
prejudice my life to pleasure her, and die in despaire
rather than shee should perish for want. It shall
suffice me to see her contented, and to feed mine
eye on her favour. If she marry though it bee my
martyrdome: yet if she be pleased I wil brooke it
with patience, and triumph in mine owne stars to see
her desires satisfied. Therefore if Ganimede be as
courteous as he is beautifull, let him shew his vertues
in redressing Phoebes miseries. And this Montanus
pronounst with such an assured countenance, that it
amazed both Aliena and Ganimede to see the resolution of his loves; so that they pitied his passions, and
commended his patience, devising how they might by
any subtiltie get Montanus the favour of Phoebe.
Straight (as womens heads are full of wiles) Ganimede
had a fetch to force Phoebe to fancie the shepheard,
malgrado the resolution of her mind he prosecuted
his policie thus. Montanus quoth he, seeing Phoebe
is so forlorne, least I might be counted unkind in not
saluting 1 so faire a creature, I will goe with thee to
Phoebe, and there heare her selfe in word utter that
which shee hath discourst with her pen, and then as
Love wils mee, I will set downe my censure. I will
home to our house, and send Coridon to accompany
1 [Mr Collier says that the edit. of I598 has salving.]




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


127


Aliena. Montanus seemed glad of this determination, and away they goe towards the house of Phoebe.
When they drew nigh to the cottage, Montanus ran
afore, and went in and told Phoebe that Ganimede
was at the doore. This word Ganimede sounding in
the eares of Phoebe, drave hir into such an extasie for
joy, that rising up in her bed, she was halfe revived,
and her wan colour began to waxe red: and with that
came Ganimede in, who saluted Phoebe with such a
courteous looke, that it was half a salve to her sorows:
sitting him down by hir bed side, he questioned about
hir disease, and where the paine chiefly helde hir?
Phoebe looking as lovely as Venus in her night gear,
tainting her face with as ruddy a blush as Clitia did
when she bewrayed her loves to Phoebus: taking
Ganimede by the hande began thus: Faire Shepheard, if love were not more strong than nature, or
fancie the sharpest extreame, my immodesty were the
more, and my vertues the les; for nature hath framed
womens eyes bashfull, their harts full of feare, and
theyr tongs ful of silence. But love, that imperious
love, where his power is predominant, then he perverts all, and wrests the wealth of nature to his owne
wil: an instance in my selfe fayre Ganimede, for such
a fire hath he kindeled in my thoughts, that to finde
ease for the flame, I was forced to passe the bounds
of modesty, and seek a salve at thy hands for my
harms: blame me not if I be over bold for it is thy
beauty, and if I bee too forward it is fancie, and the
deepe insight into thy vertues that makes me thus
fond. For let me say in a word what may be contained in a volume, Phcebe loves 1 Ganimede: at
this shee held downe her head and wept, and
Ganimede rose as one that would suffer no fish to
hang on his fingers, made this reply:  Water not


1 [Love in text.]




128


1EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


thy plants, Phoebe, for I do pity thy plaints, nor seek
not to discover thy loves in teares: for I conjecture
thy truth by thy passions: sorrow is no salve for
loves, nor sighs no remedy for affection. Therfore
frolick Phoebe, for if Ganimede can cure thee, doubt
not of recovery. Yet this let me say without offence,
that it greeves me to thwart Montanus in his fancies,
seeing his desires have been so resolute, and his
thoughts so loyall: but thou alledgest that thou art
forst from him by fate: so I telle thee Phoebe, either
some starre, or else some destenie, fittes my mind
rather with Adonis to die in chase, than be counted
a wanton on 1 Venus knee.  Although I pitie thy
martyrdome, yet I can grant no marriage; for
though I held thee fair, yet mine eie is not fettred,
love grows not like the hearb Spattanna to his perfection in one night, but creepes with the snaile, and yet
at last attaines to the top. Festina lenter, especially
in love: for momentary fancies are oftentimes the
fruits of follies. If Phoebe I should like thee as the
Hiperborei do theyr dates, which banket with them
in the morning, and throw them away at night, my
folly should be great, and thy repentance more.
Therefore I wil have time to turn my thoghts, and my
Loves shall growe up as the water Cresses, slowly, but
with a deepe roote. Thus Phoebe thou maist see I
disdaine not, though I desire not, remaining indifferent
til time and love makes me resolute. Therefore Phoebe
seek not to suppresse affection, and with the love of
Montanus quench the remembraunce of Ganimede,
strive thou to hate mee as I seeke to like of thee, and
ever have the duties of Montanus in thy minde, for I
promise thee thou mayest have one more wealthy,
but not more loyall. These wordes were corasives
to the perplexed Phoebe, that sobbing out sighes,
1 [In in text.]




EUPIUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


129


and straining out teares, she blubbered out these
words.
And shall I then have no salve of Ganimede but suspence, no hope but a doubtfull hazard, no comfort, but
be posted off to the will of time? justly have the Gods
ballanst my fortunes, who beeing cruel to Montanus,
found Ganimede as unkind to my selfe: so in forcing
him perish for love, I shall die my selfe with overmuch love. I am glad quoth Ganimede, you looke
into your own faults, and see where your shoo wrings
you, measuring now the pains of Montanus by your
owne passions. Truth q. Phoebe, and so deeply I
repent me of my frowardnesse towards the shepheard,
that could I cease to love Ganimede, I would resolve
to like Montanus. What if I can with reason perswade Phoebe to mislike of Ganimede, wil she then
favour Montanus? When reason (quoth she) doth
quench that love that I owe to thee, then will I fancie
him; conditionally, that if my love can bee supprest
with no reason, as being without reason, Ganimede
will onely wed himselfe to Phoebe. I graunt it faire
Shepheardesse quoth lie; and to feed thee with the
sweetnesse of hope, this resolve on: I wil never marry
my selfe to woman but unto thy selfe: and with that
Ganimede gave Phoebe a fruitlesse kisse, and such
wordes of comfort, that before Ganimede departed
shee arose out of her bed, and made him and Montanus such cheare, as could bee founde in such a
country cottage, Ganimede in the midst of their
banket rehearsing the promises of either in Montanus
favour, which highly pleased the Shepheard. Thus
all three content, and soothed up in hope, Ganimede
tooke his leave of Phoebe and departed, leaving her
a contented woman, and Montanus highly pleased.
But poore Ganimede, who had her thoughtes on her
Rosader, when she cald to remembrance his wounds,
fild her eies full of teares, and her heart full of sorVOL. II.                              I




130       EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
rowes, plodded to finde Aliena at the Folds, thinking
with her presence to drive away her passions. As she
came on the plaines, shee might espy where Rosader
and Saladyne sat with Aliena under the shade; which
sight was a salve to her griefe, and such a cordiall unto
her heart, that she tript alongst the Lawnes full of joy.
At last Coridon who was with them spied Ganimede,
and with that the Clown rose, and running to meet
him cried, Oh sirha, a match, a match, our Mistres
shalbe married on Sunday. Thus the poore peasant
frolict it before Ganimede, who comming to the crue
saluted them all, and especially Rosader, saying that
he was glad to see him so wel recovered of his wounds.
I had not gone abroad so soone quoth Rosader, but
that I am bidden to a marriage, which on Sunday
next must bee solempnized betweene my brother and
Aliena. I see well where Love leads delay is loathsome, and that small wooing serves, where both the
parties are willing. Truth quoth Ganimede; but what
a happy day should it be, if Rosader that day might
be married to Rosalynd. Ah good Ganimede (quoth
he) by naming Rosalynd renue not my sorrowes; for
the thought of her perfections, is the thrall of my
miseries. Tush, bee of good cheare man quoth Ganimede, I have a friend that is deeply experienst in
Necromancy and Magicke, what art can do shall be
acted for thine advantage: I wil cause him to bring
in Rosalynde, if either France or any bordring Nation
harbour her; and upon that take the faith of a yoong
shepheard. Aliena smilde to see how Rosader frownd,
thinking that Ganimede had jested with him. But
breaking off from those matters, the Page (somewhat
pleasant) began to discourse unto them what had
past between him and Phoebe: which as they laught,
so they wondered at, all confessyng, that there is none
1 [Amongst-edit. 1589.]




EUPIUES GOLDEA N  LEGA CIZ.


13I


so chast but Love will change. Thus they past away
the day in chat, and when the Sun began to set, they
tooke their leaves and departed; Aliena providing for
their marriage day such solemne cheare and handsome
roabes as fitted their country estate, and yet somewhat the better, in that Rosader had promised to
bring Gerismond thither as a guest. Ganimede (who
then ment to discover herself before her father) had
made her a gowne of green, and a kirtle of the finest
sendal, in such sort that she seemed some heavenly
Nymph harboured in Country attire.
Saladyne was not behind in care to set out the
nuptials, nor Rosader unmindfull to bid guests, who
invited Gerismond and all his folowers to the feast:
who willingly granted, so that there was nothing but
the day wanting to his mariage. In the mean while,
Phoebe being a bidden guest, made her self as gorgious as might be to please the eye of Ganimede; and
Montanus suted himself with the cost of many of his
flocks to be against that day: for then was Ganimed
to give Phoebe an answer of her loves, and Montanus
either to heare the doome of his miserie, or the censure of his happinesse. But while this geare was a
brewing, Phoebe past not one day without visiting her
Ganimede, so far was she wrapt in the beauties of this
lovely swaine. Much prattle they had, and the discourse of many passions, Phoebe wishing for the day
(as she thought) of her welfare, and Ganimede smiling
to thinke what unexpected events would fall out at
the wedding. In these humors the weeke went away,
that at last Sunday came.
No sooner did Phoebus Hench-man appeare in the
skie, to give warning that his maisters horses should
be trapt in his glorious coach,1 but Coridon in his
holiday sute marvellous seemely, in a russet jacket
2 [Couch in text.]




132


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


welted with the same, and faced with red worsted,
having a paire of blue chamblet sleeves, bound at the
wrests with foure yeolow laces, closed afore very richly
with a dosen of pewter buttons; his hose was of gray
karsie, with a large sloppe bard overthwart the pocket
holes with three faire gards, stitcht of either side with
red threed, his stock was of the owne sewed close to
his breech, and for to bewtifie his hose, he had trust
himselfe round with a dosen of new thredden points of
medley colour: his bonnet was greene wheron stood
a copper brooch with the picture of Saint Denis; and
to want nothing that might make him amorous in his
old dayes, hee had a faire shyrt band of fine lockeram,
whipt over with Coventry blew of no small cost.
Thus attired, Coridon bestird himselfe as chiefe
stickler in these actions, and had strowed al the house
with flowers, that it seemed rather some of Floraes
choyce bowers, than any country cottage.
Thither repaired Phoebe with all the maides of the
Forrest, to set out the bride in the most seemliest sort
that might bee; but howsoever shee helpt to prancke
out Aliena, yet her eye was still on Ganimede, who
was so neat in a sute of gray, that he seemed Endymion when he won Luna with his lookes, or Paris
when he playd the swain to get the bewtie of the
Nymph Oenone. Ganimede like a prettie Page waited
on his mistresse Aliena, and overlookt that all was
in a readines against the bridegroom shuld come.
Who attired in a Forresters sute came accompanied
with Gerismond and his brother Rosader early in the
morning, where arrived, they were solemnly entertained
by Aliena and the rest of the country swains, Gerismond very highly commending the fortunate choice
of Saladyne, in that he had chosen a shepheardesse,
whose vertues appeared in her outward bewties, being
no lesse faire than seeming modest. Ganimede comming in and seeing her father began to blush, Nature




EUP'HUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


133


woorking affects by her secret effectes: scarce could
she abstain from teares to see her father in so low fortunes: he that was wont to sit in his royall Pallaice:
attended on by twelve noble Peeres, now to be contented with a simple Cottage, and a troupe of revelling
woodmen for his traine. The consideration of his fall,
made Ganimede full of sorrowes: yet that she might
triumph over Fortune with patience, and not any way
(lash that merry day with her dumps, she smothered
her melancholy with a shadow of mirth: and verie
reverently welconlmed the king, not according to his
former degree, but to his present estate, with such diligence, as Gerismond began to commend the page for
his exquisit person, and excellent qualities.
As thus the King with his Foresters frolickt it
among the shepheards, Coridon came in with a faire
mazer full of Sidar, and presented it to Gerismond
with such a clownish salute, that he began to smile,
and tooke it of the old shepheard very kindly, drinking
to Aliena and the rest of her faire maydes, amongst
whome Phoebe was the formost. Aliena pledged the
King, and drunke to Rosader: so the carrowse went
rounde from him to Phoebe, &c. As they were thus
drinking and ready to goe to Church, came in Montanus apparelled all in tawny, to signifie that he was
forsaken: on his head hee wore a garland of willow,
his bottle hanged by his side whereon was painted
dispaire, and on his sheephooke hung two Sonnets, as
lables of his loves and fortunes.
Thus attired came Montanus in, with his face aq
full of griefe, as his heart was of sorrowes, shewing in
his countenance the map of extremities. Assoone as
the Shepheards sawe him, they did him all the honor
they could, as being the flower of all the swaines in
Arden; for a bonnier boy was there not seen since
the wanton wag of Troy that kept sheep in Ida. He
seeing the King, and gessyng it to be Gerismond, did




134


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


him all the reverence his country curtesie could afford.
Insomuch that the king wondering at his attire, began
to question what he was.  Montanus overhearing
him made this reply: I am sir quoth he loves swaine,
as ful of inward discontents as I seeme fraught with
outward follies. Mine eyes like bees delight in sweet
flowers, but sucking their fill on the faire of beauty,
they carry home to the Hive of my heart farre more
gaul than hony, and for one drop of pure deaw, a
tun full of deadly Aconiton. I hunt with the Fly to
pursue the Eagle, that flying too nigh the Sun, I
perish with the Sun: my thoughts are above my
reach, and my desires more than my fortunes: yet
neither greater than my loves.  But daring with
Phaeton, I fal with Icarus, and seeking to passe the
mean, I die for being so mean, my night sleeps are
waking slombers, as full of sorrowes as they be far
from rest, and my dayes labors are fruitlesse amors,
staring at a star and stombling at a straw, leaving
reason to follow after repentance: yet every passion
is a pleasure thogh it pinch, because love hides its
wormeseed in figs, his poysons in sweet potions, and
shadows prejudize with the maske of pleasure. The
wisest counsellers are my deep discontents, and I hate
that which should salve my harm, like the patient which
stung with the Tarantula loaths musick, and yet the
disease incurable but by melody.  Thus (Sir) restlesse I holde myselfe remediles, as loving without
either reward or regard, and yet loving, bicause
there is none worthy to be loved, but the mistresse
of my thoughts. And that I am as full of passions as
I have discourst in my plaintes, Sir if you please seemy Sonnets, and by them censure of my sorrowes.
These wordes of Montanus brought the king into
a great wonder, amazed as much at his wit as at his
attire: insomuch that he tooke the papers off his
hooke, and read them to this effect.




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE,


I35


MONTANUS FIRST SONNET.
Alas how wander I amidst these woods,
Whereas no day bright shine doth finde accesse;
But where the melancholy fleeting floods
(Dark as the night) my night of woes expresse.
Disarmde of reason, spoilde of natures goods,
Without redresse to salve my heavinesse
I walke, whilest thought (too cruell to my harmes),
Witll endles grief my heedless judgement charmes.
My silent tongue assailde by secret feare,
My traitrous eyes imprisoned in their joy,
My fatall peace devourd in fained cheare,
My heart inforst to harbour in annoy,
My reason robde of power by yeelding eare,
My fond opinions slave to every toy.
Oh Love thou guide in my uncertaine way,
Wtoe to thy bow, thy fire, the cause of my decay.
Et florida pungunt.
When the King had read this Sonnet, he highly
commended the device of the shepheard, that could
so wittily wrap his passions in a shaddow, and so
covertly conceale that which bred his chiefest discontent; affirming, that as the least shrubs have their
tops, the smallest haires their shadowes: so the
meanest swaines had their fancies, and in their kynde
were as charie of Love as a King.    Whetted on with
this device, he tooke the second, and read it: the
effects were these.
MONTANUS SECOND SONNET.
When the Dog
Full of rage,
With his irefull eyes
Frownes amidst the skies
The Shepheard to asswage
The fury of the heat,
Himselfe doth safely seat
By a fount
Full of faire,
Where a gentle breath
(Mounting from beneath)
Tempreth the air.




136


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


There his flocks
Drinke their fill,
And with ease repose,
Whilest sweet sleepe doth close
Eyes from toylsome ill.
But I burne
Without rest,
No defensive power
Shields from Phoebes lower:
Sorrow is my best.
Gentle Love,
Lowre no more:
If thou wilt invade
In the secret shade,
Labour not so sore.
I my selfe
And my flocks
They their love to please,
I my selfe to ease,
Both leave the shadie oakes:
Content to burne in fire,
Sith Love doth so desire.
Et florida pungunt.
Gerismond seeing the pithy vaine of those Sonets,
began to make further enquiry what he was? Whereupon Rosader discourst unto him the love of Montanus to Phoebe, his great loyaltie and her deep
crueltie: and how in revenge the Gods had made the
curious Nymph amorous of yoong Ganimede. Upon
this discourse, the king was desirous to see Phoebe?
who being broght before Gerismond by Rosader,l
shadowed the beauty of her face with such a vermilion teinture, that the Kings eyes began to dazle at
the puritie of her excellence. After Gerismond had
fed his lookes a while upon her faire, he questioned
with her, why she rewarded Montanus love with so
little regard, seeing his desertes were many, and his
passions extrearne. Phoebe to make reply to the
1 [Rosado- in text.]




EUPHHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


137


Kings demaund, answered thus: Love (sir) is chariel
in his lawes, and whatsoever hee sets downe for
justice (bee it never so unjust) the sentence cannot
be reverst: womens fancies lende favours not ever by
desert, but as they are inforst by their desires; for
fancy is tied to the wings of Fate, and what the starres
decree, stands for an infallible doome. I know Montanus is wise, and womens ears are greatly delighted
with wit, as hardly escaping the charme of a pleasant
toong, as Ulisses the melody of the Syrens. Montanus is bewtifull, and womens eyes are snared in the
excellence of objects, as desirous to feede theirlookes
with a faire face, as the Bee to suck on a sweet floure.
Montanus is welthy, and an ounce of give me perswades a woman more than a pound of hear me.
Danae was won with a golden shower, when she could
not be gotten with all the intreaties of Jupiter: I tell
you sir, the string of a womans heart reacheth to the
pulse of her hand, and let a man rub that with gold,
and tis hard but she will proove his hearts gold.
Montanus is yoong, a great clause in fancies court:
Montanus is vertuous, the richest argument that Love
yeelds; and yet knowing all these perfections I praise
them, and wonder at them, loving the qualities, but
not affecting the person, because the Destenies have
set downe a contrary censure. Yet Venus to ad revenge, hath given me wine of the same grape, a sip
of the same sauce, and firing me with the like passion, hath crost me with as il a penance; for I am in
love with a shepheards swaine, as coy to mee as I am
cruel to Montanus, as peremptory in disdain as I was
perverse in desire, and that is (quoth she) Alienaes
page, yong Ganimede.
Gerismond desirous to prosecute the ende of these
passions, called in Ganimede who, knowing the case,


1 Old copies, c/ha-ilic.  Mr Collier's suggestion.




i38


EUPHUES G3LDEN LEGACIE.


came in graced with such a blush, as beautified the
Christall of his face with a ruddie brightnesse. The
King noting well the phisnomy of Ganimede, began
by his favours to cal to mind the face of his Rosalynd,
and with that fetcht a deepe sigh. Rosader that was
passing familiar with Gerismond, demanded of him
why he sighed so sore? Because Rosader (quoth
hee) the favour of Ganimede puts mee in minde cf
Rosalynde. At this word, Rosader sight so deepely
as though his heart would have burst. And whats
the matter (quoth Gerismond) that you quite mee
with such a sigh? Pardon mee sir (quoth Rosader)
because I love none but Rosalynd. And upon that
condition (quoth Gerismond) that Rosalynd were
here, I would this day make up a marriage betwixt
her and thee. At this Aliena turnd her head and
smilde upon Ganimede, and shee could scarce keep
countenance. Yet shee salved all with secrecie, and
Gerismond to drive away his dumpes, questioned
with Ganimede, what the reason was he regarded not
Phcebus love, seeing she was as faire as the wanton
that brought Troy to ruine. Ganimede mildly answered, If I shuld affect the faire Phoebe, I should
offer poore Montanus great wrong to winne that from
him in a moment, that hee hath labored for so many
monthes. Yet have I promised to the bewtiful shepheardesse, to wed my selfe never to woman except
unto her; but with this promise, that if I can by
reason suppresse Phoebes love towards me, she shall
like of none but of Montanus. To that q. Phoebe I
stand, for my love is so far beyond reason, as wil
admit of no persuasion of reason. For justice q. he,
I appeale to Gerismond: and to his censure wd I
stand, q. Phoebe. And in your victory q. Montanus
stands the hazard of my fortunes; for if Ganimede
go away with conquest, Montanus is in conceit loves
Monarch, if Phoebe winne, then am I in effect most




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


139


miserable.  We wil see this controversie q. Gerismond, and then we will to church: therefore, Ganimede let us heare your argument. Nay, pardon my
absence a while (quoth shee) and you shall see one
in store.
In went Ganimede and drest her self in womans
attire, having on a gowne of greene, with kirtle of
rich sandall, so quaint, that she seemed Diana
triumphing in the Forrest: upon the head she wore
a chaplet of Roses, which gave her such a grace,
that she looked like Flora pearkt in the pride of all
her floures. Thus attired came Rosalind in, and presented her selfe at her fathers feete, with her eyes full
of teares, craving his blessing, and discoursing unto
him all her fortunes, how shee was banished by Torismond, and how ever since she lived in that country
disguised.
Gerismond seeing his daughter, rose from his seat
and fel upon her necke, uttering the passions of his
joy in watry plaints, driven into such an extasie of
content, that hee could not utter one word. At this
sight, if Rosader was both amazed and joyfull, I refer
my selfe to the judgement of such as have experience
in love, seeing his Rosalynd before his face whom so
long and deeply he had affected. At last Gerismond
recovered his spirites, and in most fatherly tearmes
entertained his daughter Rosalynd, after many questions demanding of her what had past betweene her
and Rosader.   So much, sir (quoth she) as there
wants nothing but your Grace to make up the mariage.
Why then (quoth Gerismond) Rosader take her, shee
is thine, and let this day solemnize both thy brothers
and thy nuptials. Rosader beyond measure content,
humbly thanked the king,and imbraced his Rosalynde,
who turning to Phoebe, demanded if she had shewen
sufficient reason to suppresse the force of her loves.
Yea quoth Phcebe, and so great a perswasive, that if




140


E UPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


it please you Madame and Aliena to give us leave,
Montanus and I will make this day the third couple
in marriage. She had no sooner spake this word, but
Montanus threw away his garland of willow, his
bottle, where was painted dispaire, and cast his
sonnets in the fire, shewing himselfe as frolicke as
Paris when he hanseled his love with Helena. At
this Gerismond and the rest smiled, and concluded that Montanus and Phoebe should keepe their
wedding with the two brethren. Aliena seeing Saladyne stande in a dumpe, to wake him from his
dreame began thus. Why how now my Saladyne, all
a mort, what melancholy man at the day of marriage?
perchaunce thou art sorrowfull to thinke on thy
brothers high fortunes, and thyne owne base desires to
chuse so meane a shepheardize. Cheare up thy hart
man, for this day thou shalt bee married to the
daughter of a King; for know Saladyne, I am not
Aliena, but Alinda the daughter of thy mortal enemie
Torismond. At this all the company was amazed,
especially Gerismond, who rising up, tooke Alinda in
his armes, and said to Rosalynd: is this that faire
Alinda famous for so many vertues, that forsoke her
fathers court to live with thee exilde in the country?
The same q. Rosalynde. Then quoth Gerismond,
turning to Saladyne, jolly Forrester be frolick, for thy
fortunes are great, and thy desires excellent, thou
hast got a princesse as famous for her perfection, as
exceeding in proportion.  And she hath with her
beauty won (quoth Saladyne) an humble servant, as
full of faith, as she of amiable favour. While every
one was amazed with these Comicall eventes, Coridon
came skipping in, and told them that the priest was
at Church, and tarried for their comming. With that
Gerismond led the way, and the rest followed, where
to the admiration of all the countrey swains in Arden,
their mariages were solemnly solemnized. As soone




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


I4I


as the Priest had finished, home they went with
Alinda, where Coridon had made all things in readines. Dinner was provided, and the tables being
spread, and the Brides set downe by Gerismond,
Rosader, Saladyne, and Montanus that day were
servitors: homely cheare they had, such as their
country could affoord: but to mend their fare they
had mickle good chat, and many discourses of their
loves and fortunes. About mid dinner, to make them
mery, Coridon came in with an old crowd, and plaid
them a fit of mirth, to which he sung this pleasant
song.
CORIDONS SONG.
A blyth and bonny country Lasse,
heigh ho the bonny Lasse:
Sate sighing on the tender grasse,
and weeping said, will none come woo mee?
4 smicker boy, a lyther Swaine,
heigh ho a smicker Swaine,
That in his love was wanton faine,
with smiling looks straight came unto her.
When as the wanton wench espide,
heigh ho when she espide,
The meanes to make her selfe a bride,
she simpred smooth like bonny bell:
The Swaine that saw her squint eied kind,
heigh ho squint eyed kind,
His armes about her body twind,
and faire lasse, how fare ye, well?
The country kit said well forsooth,
heigh ho well forsooth,
But that I have a longing tooth,
a longing tooth that makes me crie,
Alas said he, what garres thy griefe?
heigh ho what garres thy griefe?
A wound quoth she without reliefe,
I fear a maid that I shall die.
If that be all the shepheard said,
heigh ho the shepheard said,
Ile make thee wive it gentle mayd,
and so recure thy maladie.




142       EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
Hereon they kist with many a oath,
heigh ho with many a oath,
And fore God Pan did plight their troath,
and to the Church they hied them fast.
And God send every pretie peate,
heigh ho the prety peate:
That feares to die of this conceate,
so kind a friend to helpe at last.
Coridon having thus made them merry, as they
were in the midst of their jollitie, word was brought
in to Saladyne and Rosader that a brother of, theirs,
one Fernandine was arived, and desired to speake
with them. Gerismond overhearing this newes, demaunded who it was? It is sir (q. Rosader) our
middle brother, that lives a scholler in Paris; but
what fortune hath driven him to seek us out I
know not.   With that Saladine went and met his
brother, whom he welcommed with all curtesie, and
Rosader gave him no lesse frendly entertainment:
brought he was by his two brothers into the parlour where they all sate at dinner.  Fernandine,
as one that knew as many maners, as he could points
of sophistry, and was as wel brought up as well lettered, saluted them all. But when he espied Gerismond, kneeling on his knee, he did him what reverence belonged to his estate: and with that burst forth
into these speaches. Although (right mighty Prince)
this day of my brothers marriage be a day of mirth,
yet time craves another course: and therefore from
dantie cates rise to sharpe weapons. And you the
sonnes of Sir John of Bourdeaux, leave off your amors,
and fal to arms, change your loves into lances, and
now this day shew your selves valiant, as hitherto you
have been passionate.  For know Gerismond, that
harde by at the edge of this forrest the twelve peeres
of France are up in armes to recover thy right; and
Torismond troupt with a crue of desperate runnagates




EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGAC/IE.


I43


is ready to bid them battaile. The armies are ready
to joyne: therefore shewe thy selfe in the field to incourage thy subjects: and you Saladyne and Rosader
mount you, and shew your selves as hardy soldiers as
you have been harty lovers: so shal you for the
benefit of your Country, discover the Ilea of your
Fathers vertues to be stamped in your thoughts, and
prove children worthy of so honorable a parent. At
this alarum given him by Fernandine Gerismond leapt
from the boord, and Saladyne and Rosader betooke
themselves to their weapons. Nay (q. Gerismond) go
with me, I have horse and armor for us all, and then
being well mounted, let us shew that we carry revenge
and honor at our fauchons points. Thus they leave
the Brides full of sorrow, and especially Alinda, who
desired Gerismond to be good to her Father: hee not
returning a word because his hast 1 was great, hied him
home to his lodge, wher he delivered Saladyne and
Rosader horse and armour, and himselfe armed royally
led the way: not having ridden two leagues before
they discovered where in a valley both the battailes
were joyned.  Gerismond seeing the wing wherein
the Peeres fought, thrust in there, and cryed S. Denis,
laying on such load upon his enemies, that he shewed
how highly he did estimate of a crowne. When the
Peers perceived that their lawful king was there, they
grew more eager; and Saladine and Rosader so behaved themselves, that none durst stand in their way,
nor abide the furie of their weapons. To be short, the
Peers were conquerors, Torismonds army put to flight,
and himself slain in battaile. The Peers then gathered
themselves together, and saluted their king, conducted
him royally into Paris, where he was received with
great joy of all the cittizens. Assoone as all was quiet
and he had received againe the crowne, he sent for
[1 [ate in text.]




I44


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.


Alinda and Rosalynd to the court, Alinda being very
passionat for the death of her father: yet brooking it
with the more patience, in that she was contented
with the welfare of her Saladyne. Wel, assoone as
they were come to Paris, Gerismond made a royal
feaste for the Peers and Lords of the Land, which
continued thirtie dayes, in which time summoning a
parliament, by the consent of his nobles, he created
Rosader heire apparant to the kingdome, hee restored
Saladyne to all his fathers Land, and gave him the
Dukedome of Nameurs, he made Fernandine principall secretarie to him selfe; and that Fortune might
every way seeme frolicke, he made Montanus Lord
over all the Forrest of Arden, Adam Spencer Captaine
of the Kings Gard, and Coridon maister of Alindas
flocks.
Heere Gentlemen may you see in Euphues Golden
Legacie, that such as neglect their fathers precepts,
incur much prejudice, that division in nature as it is
a blemish in nurture, so tis a breach of good fortunes;
that vertue is not measured by birth but by action,
that yonger brethren though inferiour in yeares, yet
may bee superiour to honors; that concord is the
sweetest conclusion, and amity betwixt brothers more
forceable than fortune. If you gather any fruits by
this Legacie, speake wel of Euphues for writing it,
and me for fetching it. If you grace me with that
favor, you incorage me to be more forward: and
assoone as I have overlookt my labors, expect the
Sailers Kalender.
TH. LODGE.




TROJLUS ANT) CRESSIDA.
VOL. IL.                 K




As in the case of "l Henry VIII." (to which, in fact, " Richard
III." might be added), we are without any distinct evidence as
to the sources to which the poet went for the general outline and rough material of this production; but the probability
is that the earlier and so far unrecovered drama on the same
mythological subject by Decker and Chettle furnished him with
a sort of groundwork. Chaucer's poem was, of course, before
him for the story of Troilus, but the play is, in fact, tripartite,
and embraces three legends, "Troilus and Cressida," " Hector
and Troilus," " Ajax and Agamemnon," and for the last it is
supposed that Shakespeare, unless he found it ready-done to his
hand in the foundation-play, may have resorted to Chapman's
then new version of Homer.
A play called " Troilus and Cressida" is cited by Henslowe under
date of 1599, and it was, we suspect, the same piece which occurs
in the Stationers' Registers under February 7, I602-3, though
not hitherto discovered in print. The still more ancient composition formed out of Chaucer's " Troilus and Cressida " by Nicholas
Grimoald of Merton College, Oxford, seems to exist only on
Bishop Bale's authority, nor is it clear whether it was a play or
a Latin version of the original. 1
The subject was very popular at an early date, and had been
made so by Chaucer, whose poem was, it is presumable, in
Tyndale's thoughts, when he speaks in his "Obedience of a
Christian Man," 1528, of the great celebrity of the story in his
time, unless indeed it had been digested into a popular tale or
chap-book, which we have so far failed to recover.2 In either
case, the subject had been well aired, and was one ripe for
skilful romantic treatment, when Shakespeare took it in hand.
Randolph probably refers to the performance of Shakespeare's
play where, in the "Muses' Looking-Glass," written before I634,
he makes Tragedy say" Who will rely on fortune's giddy smile,
That hath seen Priam acted on the stage."3
" Bale the biographer, and Bishop of Ossory, says that he [Grimoald]
turned Chaucer's 'Troilus' into a play; but whether this play was in
Latin or English, we are still to seek; and the word Com-edia, which Bale
uses on this occasion, is without precision or distinction."-Hazlitt's
"Warton," iv. 49.
2 Compare Hazlitt's Dodsley, xi. 447, note.
3 " Randolph's Works," edit. Hazlltt, p. I88.




MACBETH.




MR COZLIER'S INTROD UCTION
--
BUCHANAN, in his "' History of Scotland," speaking of
the incidents of Macbeth's reign, observes, " Some of
our writers do here record many fables, which are
like Milesian tales, and fitter for the s/age than for a
history, and therefore I omit them." (Book VII.,
edit. Edin., I82I, vol. i. p. 352.)  These expressions
are remarkable; but we do not suppose that Shakespeare saw and took advantage of the recommendation of the Scottish historian, but finding the story,
as it is related in his usual historical authority,
Holinshed, well adapted to his purpose, he applied
it to that purpose. We have, therefore, inserted the
whole that Holinshed records, and, on comparison,
the reader will find not a few instances in which the
obligations of Shakespeare are to be distinctly and
even verbally traced, It seems clear, that our great
dramatist derived his notion and knowledge of " the
weird sisters" from this source; and the passage in
which the old chronicler first introduces them is
curiously explanatory of some parts of " Macbeth"
relating to them: " But afterwards (he says) the
common opinion was, that these women were either
the weird sisters, that is (as ye would say), the goddesses of destinie, or else some nymphs or feiries
indued with knowledge of prophesie by their necromatical science, bicause every thing came to passe
as they had spoken." In the first folio of Shakespeare's Plays (1623) the word " weird" is spelt
weyward, which has occasioned some doubt as to its
etymology; but Holinshed uses the right orthography,
and, by the explanation he affords, supports those
who contend that " weird " is derived from the Saxon
" wyrd "-fafumn-" the weird sisters-the goddesses of
destinie."




The History of Makbeth.
-0 ---
AFTER Malcolne succeeded his nephue Duncane
the sonne of his daughter Beatrice: for Malcolme had two daughters, the one which was this
Beatrice, being giuen in mariage vnto one Abbanath
Crinen, a man of great nobilitie, and thane of the Iles
and west parts of Scotland, bare of that mariage the
foresaid Duncane; the other Doada, was maried vnto
Sinell the thane of Glammis, by whom she had issue one
Makbeth a valiant gentleman, and one that if he had not
beene somewhat cruell of nature, might haue beene
thought most woorthie the gouernement of a realme.
On the other part, Duncane was so soft and gentle of
nature, that the people wished the inclinations and
maners of these two cousins to haue beene so tempered
and interchangeablie bestowed betwixt them, that
where the one had too much of clemencie, and the other
of crueltie, the meane virtue betwixt these two extremities might haue reigned by indifferent partition in
them both, so should Duncane haue proued a woorthie king, and Makbeth an excellent capteine. The
beginning of Duncans reigne was verie quiet and
peaceable, without anie notable trouble; but after it
was perceiued how negligent he was in punishing
9




I5o


THE HISTORY OF MAK BETH.


offenders, manie misruled persons tooke occasion
thereof to trouble the peace and quiet state of the
common-wealth, by seditious commotions which first
had their beginnings in this wise.
Banquho the thane of Lochquhaber, of whom the
house of the Stewards is descended, the which by
order of linage hath now for a long time inioied the
crowne of Scotland, euen till these our daies, as he
gathered the finances due to the king, and further
punished somewhat sharpelie such as were notorious
offendors, being assailed by a number of rebels inhabiting in that countrie, and spoiled of the monie
and all other things, had much a doo to get awaie
with life, after he had recieued sundrie grieuous wounds
amongst them. Yet escaping their hands, after hee
was somewhat recouered of his hurts, and was able to
ride, he repaired to the court, where making his complaint to the king in most earnest wise, he purchased
at length that the offendors were sent for by a sergeant at armes, to appeare to make answer vnto such
matters as should be laid to their charge: but they
augmenting their mischiefous act with a more wicked
deed, after they had misused the messenger with sundrie kinds of reproches, they finallie slue him also.
Then doubting not but for such contemptuous demeanor against the kings regall authoritie, they should
be inuaded with all the power the king could make,
y Makdowald one of great estimation among them,
making first a confederacie with his neerest friends and
kinsmen, tooke vpon him to be chiefe capteine of all
such rebels as would stand against the king, in maintenance of the grieuous offenses latelie committed against
him. Manie slanderous words also, and railing rants
this Makdowald vttered against his prince, calling him
a faint-hearted milkesop, more meet to gouerne a sort
of idle moonks in some cloister, than to haue the rule
of such valiant and hardie men of warre as the Scots




THE HISTORY OF MAKBETH.


I51


were.  He vsed also such subtill persuasions and
forged allurements, that in a small time he had gotten
togither a mightie power of men: for out of the westerne iles there came vnto him a great multitude of
people, offering themselues to assist him in that rebellious quarell, and out of Ireland in hope of the spoile
came no small number of Kernes and Galloglasses,
offering gladlie to serge vnder him, whither it should
please him to lead them.
Makdowald thus hauing a mightie puissance about
him, incountered with such of the kings people as were
sent against him into Lochquhaber, and discomfiting
them, by mere force tooke their capteine Malcolme,
and after the end of the battell smote off his head.
This ouerthrow being notified to the king, did put
him in woonderfull feare, by reason of his small skill
in warlike affaires. Calling therefore his nobles to a
councell, he asked of them their best aduise for the
subduing of Makdowald and other the rebels. Here,
in sundrie heads (as euer it happeneth) were sundrie
opinions, which they vttered according to euerie man
his skill. At length Makbeth speaking much against
the kings softnes, and ouermuch slacknesse in punishing offendors, whereby they had such time to assemble
togither, he promised notwithstanding, if the charge were
committed vnto him and vnto Banquho, so to order the
matter, that the rebels should be shortly vanquished and
quite put downe, and that not so much as one of them
should be found to make resistance within the countrie.
And euen so it came to passe: for being sent
foorth with a new power, at his entring into Lochquhaber, the fame of his comming put the enemies
in such feare, that a great number of them stale
secretlie awaie from their capteine Makdowald, who
neuerthelesse inforced thereto, gave battell vnto
Makbeth, with the residue which remained with him:
but being ouercome, and fleeing for refuge into a




152


THE HISTORY OF MAKBETH.


castell (within the which his wife and children were
p  inclosed) at length when he saw how he could neither
defend the hold anie longer against his enimies, nor
yet vpon surrender be suffered to depart with life
saued, hee first slue his wife and children, and lastlie
himselfe, least if he had yeelded simplie, he should
haue beene executed in most cruell wise for an
example to others. Makbeth entring into the castell
by the gates, as then set open, found the carcasse of
Makdowald lieng dead there amongst the residue of
the slaine bodies, which when he beheld, remitting
no peece of his cruell nature with that pitifull sight,
he caused the head to be cut off, and set vpon a
poles end, and so sent it as a present to the king, who
as then laie at Bertha. The headlesse trunke he commanded to bee hoongvp vponan high paire ofgallowes.
Them of the westerne Iles suing for pardon, in
that they had aide( Makdowald in his tratorous
enterprise, he fined a, great sums of monie: and
those whome he tooke in Lochquhaber, being come
thither to beare armor against the king, he put to
execution.  Hervpon the Ilandmen conceiued a
deadlie grudge towards him, calling him a couenantbreaker, a bloudie tyrant, and a cruell murtherer of
them whome the kings mercie had pardoned. With
which reprochfull words Makbeth being kindled in
wrathfull ire against them, had passed ouer with an
armie into the Iles, to haue taken reuenge vpon them
for their liberall talke, had he not beene otherwise
persuaded by some of his friends, and partlie pacified
by gifts presented vnto him on the behalfe of the
Ilandmen, seeking to auoid his displeasure. Thus
was iustice and law restored againe to the old
accustomed course, by the diligent means of Makbeth.
Immediatlie wherevpon woord came that Sueno king
of Norway was arriued in Fife with a puissant armie,
to subdue the whole realme of Scotland.




THE HISTORY OF MAKBET~H.


I53


But here to the intent it maie be the better perceiued, what this Sueno was, I will somwhat touch
from whence he descended. That Sueno, who (as
ye haue heard) conquered the realme of England,
being also king of Denmark and Norwaie, had three
sonnes, Harold, Sueno, and Canute; the first he
made king of England, the second king of Norwaie,
and the third king of Denmarke. Harold inioied not
the same dominion of England past three yeeres after
his fathers deceasse, but was slaine by Etheldred or
Egeldred, whom his father Sueno had chased into
Normandie. But the same Etheldred kept not long
the kingdome in peace, for Canute king of Denmarke,
to reuenge his brothers death, landed in England
with a mighltie host, and sleaing Etheldred, recouered
the kingdome to the vse of the Danes: but yet one
Edmund sonne to the foresaid Etheldred, surnamed
Ironside, mainteined the warre against Canute for a
season, till at length by both their consents they
agreed to fight a combat singularlie man to man, so
to trie the matter betwixt them, who should reigne as
king ouer the Englishmen.
In this fight when they had continued a long space,
and shewed right notable proofes of their manhood:
" Edmund (saith Canute) sith it has pleased almightie
God, that thou shouldest thus trie the force of my hand
without hurt or wound, I thinke it bee likewise his
pleasure, that thou shouldest inioy part of the realme:
go to therefore, I receiue thee as partener with me in
the kingdome, so that (if thou be contented) let vs
diuide the kingdome betwixt vs without anie more
contention." Edmund gladlie accepted this condition
of agreement, supposing it better to haue halfe the
kingdome, than to stand to the doubtfull triall of
loosing the whole: for he had received a wound at
Canutes hand, though Canute vnderstood not so
much: againe, he foresaw that occasion hereafter




I54


THE HISTORY OF MAKBETH.


might be offered, whereby he might without all
trouble come to inioy the whole. Herevpon either
of them lept beside their weried horsses in that fierce
and earnest fight, and imbracing each other became
good friends, in diuiding the realme according to the
aboue mentioned motion of Canute. That part of
England that lieth ouer against France was assigned
vnto Canute: and the other, that is, the north parts
vnto Edmund. In the meane time Emma the wife
of Etheldred, with hir two sonnes (which she had by
the same Etheldred) Alured and Edward, fled ouer
into Normandie, doubting least this concord betwixt
Canute and Edmund should turne smallie to hir
aduancement.
But now touching the arriuall of Sueno the Norwegian king in Fife (as before is expressed) ye shall
vnderstand, that the pretense of his comming was to
reuenge the slaughter of his vncle Camus, and other
of the Danish nation slaine at Barre, Crowdane, and
Gemmer. The crueltie of this Sueno was such, that
he neither spared man, woman, nor child, of what
age, condition, or degree soeuer they were. Whereof
when K. Duncane was certified, he set all slouthfull
and lingering delaies apart, and began to assemble an
armie in most speedie wise, like a verie valiant
capteine: for oftentimes it happeneth, that a dull
coward and slouthfull person, constreined by necessitie, becommeth verie hardie and actiue. Therefore
when his whole power was come togither, he diuided
the same into three battels. The first was led by
Makbeth, the second by Banquho, and the king himselfe gouerned in the maine battel or middle ward,
wherein were appointed to attend and wait vpon his
person the most part of all the residue of the Scottish
nobilitie.
The armie of Scotishmen being thus ordered, came
vnto Culros, where incountering with the enimies,




THE HISTORY OF MAKBETH.


155


after a sore and cruell foughten battell, Sueno remained
victorious, and Malcolme with his Scots discomfited.
Howbeit the Danes were so broken by this battell,
that they were not able to make long chase on their
enimies, but kept themselues all night in order of
battell, for doubt least the Scots assembling togither
againe, might haue set vpon them at some aduantage.
On the morrow, when the fields were discouered, and
that it was perceived how no enimies were to be found
abrode, they gathered the spoile, which they diuided
amongst them, according to the law of armes. Then
it was ordeined by commandement of Sueno, that no
souldier should hurt either man, woman, nor child,
except such as were found with weapon in hand reat(ie
to make resistance, for he hoped now to conquer the
realme without further bloudshed.
But when knowledge was giuen how Duncan was
fled to the castell of Bertha, and that Makbeth was
gathering a new power to withstand the incursions of
the Danes, Sueno raised his tents, and comming to
the said castell, laid a strong siege round about it.
Duncane seeing himselfe thus enuironed by his
enimies, sent a secret message by counsell of Banquho
to Makbeth, commanding him to abide at Inchcuthill, till he heard from him some other newes. In
the meane time Duncane fell in fained communication with Sueno, as though he would haue yeelded vp
the castell into his hands, vnder certeine conditions,
and this did he to driue time, and to put his enimies
out of all suspicion of anie enterprise ment against
them, till all things were brought to passe that might
serue for the purpose. At length, when they were fallen at a point for rendring vp the hold, Duncane offered
to sende foorth of the castell into the campe great prouision of vittels to refresh the armie, which offer was
gladlie accepted of the Danes, for that they had beene
in great penurie of sustenance manie daies before.




i56


THE HISTORY OF MAKBETH.


The Scots heerevpon tooke the iuice of mekilwoort
berries, and mixed the same in their ale and bread,
sending it thus spiced and confectioned, in great abundance vnto their enimies.  They reioicing that they
had got meate and drinke sufficient to satisfie their
bellies, fell to eating and drinking, after such greedie
wise, that it seemed they stroue who might deuoure
and swallow vp most, till the operation of the berries
spread in such sort through all the parts of their bodies,
that they were in the end brought into a fast dead
sleepe, that in manner it was vnpossible to awake
them. Then foorthwith Duncane sent vnto Makbeth,
commanding him with all diligence to come and set
vpon the enimies, being in easie point to be ouercome.
Makbeth making no delaie, came with his people to
the place, where his enimies were lodged, and first
killing the watch, afterwards entered the campe, and
made such slaughter on all sides without anie resistance, that it was a woonderfull matter to behold, for
the Danes were so heauie of sleepe, that the most part
of therm were slaine and neuer stirred: other that were
awakened either by the noise or other waies foorth,
were so amazed and dizzie headed vpon their wakening, that they were not able to make aqie defense:
so that of the whole number there escaped no more
but onelie Sueno himselfe and ten other persons, by
whose helpe he got to his ships lieng at rode in the
mouth of Taie.
The most part. of the mariners, when they heard
what plentie of mreate and drinke the Scots had sent
unto the campe, came from the sea thither to be partakers thereof, and so were slaine amongst their fellowes: by meanes whereof when Sueno perceiued
how through lacke of mariners he should not be able
to conueie awaie his nauie, he furnished one ship
throughlie with such as were left, and in the same
sailed backe into Norwaie, cursing the time that he




THE HISTORY OF IIAKBETN.


I57


set forward on this infortunate iournie.  The other
ships which he left behind him, within three daies
after his departure from tiehce, were tossed so togither
by violence of an east wind, that beating and rushing
one against another, they sunke there, and lie in the
same place euen vnto these daies, to the great danger
of other such ships as come on that coast: for being
couered with the floud when the tide commeth, at the
ebbing againe of the same, some part of them appeere
aboue water.
The place where the Danish vessels were thus lost,
is yet called Drownelow sands. This ouerthrow receiued in manner afore said by Sueno, was verie displeasant to him and his people, as should appeere, in
that it was a custome manie yeeres after, that no
knights were made in Norwaie, except they were first.
sworne to reuenge the slaughter of their countriemen
and friends thus slaine in Scotland. The Scots hauing
woone so notable a victorie, after they had gathered
and diuided the spoile of the field, caused solemne
processions to be made in all places of the realme,
and thanks to be given to almightie God, that had
sent them so faire a day ouer their enimies. But
iwhilest the people were thus at their processions,
woord was brought that a new fleet of Danes was
arriued at Kingcorne, sent thither by Canute king of
England, in reuenge of his brother Suenos overthrow.
To resist these enimies, which were alreadie landed,
and busie in spoiling the countrie; Makbeth and
Banquho were sent with the kings authoritie, who hauing with them a conuenient power, incountred the
enimies, slue part of them; and chased the other to
their ships. They that escaped and got once to their
ships, obteined of Makbeth for a great summe of gold,
that such of their friends as were slaine at this last
bickering, might be buried in saint Colmes Inch.
In memorie whereof, manie old sepultures are yet in




158


THE HISTORY OF MAKBETH.


the said Inch, there to be seene grauen with the armes
of the Danes, as the maner of burieng noble men still
is, and heretofore hath beene vsed.
A peace was also concluded at the same time betwixt the Danes and Scotishmen, ratified (as some
have written) in this wise: That from thencefoorth the
Danes should neuer come into Scotland to make anie
warres against the Scots by anie maner of meanes.
And these were the warres that Duncane had with
forren enimies, in the seuenth yeere of his reigne.
Shortlie after happened a strange and uncouth woonder, which afterward was the cause of much trouble
in the realme of Scotland, as ye shall after heare. It
fortuned as Makbeth and Banquho iournied towards
v Fores, where the king then laie, they went sporting
by the waie togither without other companie, saue
onelie themselues, passing thorough the woods and
fields, when suddenlie in the middest of a laund, there
met them three women in strange and wild apparell,
resembling creatures of elder world, whome when they
attentiuelie beheld, woondering much at the sight, the
first of them spake and said; "All haile Makbeth,
thane of Glammis" (for he had latelie entered into
that dignitie and office by the death of his father
Sinell.) The second of them said; " Haile Makbeth
thane of Cawder." But the third said; "All haile
Makbeth that heereafter shalt be king of Scotland."
Then Banquho; " What manner of women (saith
he) are you, that seeme so little fauourable vnto me,
whereas to my fellow heere, besides high offices, ye
assigne also the kingdome, appointing foorth nothing
for me at all?"  "Yes (saith the first of them) we
promise greater benefits vnto thee, than vnto him, for
he shall reigne in deed, but with an vnluckie end:
neither shall he leaue anie issue behind him to succeed in his place, where contrarilie thou in deed shalt
not reigne at all, but of thee those shall be borne




THE HISTORY OF MAKBETH.


I59


which shall gouerne the Scotish kingdome by long
order of continuall descent." Herewith the foresaid
women vanished immediatlie out of their sight. This
was reputed at the first but some vaine fantasticall
illusion by Makbeth and Banquho, insomuch that
Banquho would call Mackbeth in iest, king of Scotland; and Mackbeth againe would call him in sport
likewise, the father of manie kings. But afterwards
the common opinion was, that these women were
either the weird sisters, that is (as ye would say) the
goddesses of destinie, or else some nymphs or feiries,
indued with knowledge of prophesie by their necromanticall science, bicause euerie thing came to pass
as they had spoken. For shortlie after, the thane of
Cawdor being condemned at Fores of treason against
the king committed; his lands, liuings, and offices
were given of the kings liberalitie to Mackbeth.
The same night after, at supper, Banquho iested
with him and said: " Now Mackbeth thou hast obteined those things which the two former sisters prophesied, there remaineth onelie for thee to purchase
that which the third said should come to passe."
Wherevpon Mackbeth reuoluing the thing in his mind,
began euen then to deuise how he might atteine to
the kingdome: but yet he thought with himselfe that he
must tarie a time, which should aduance him thereto
(by the diuine prouidence) as it had come to passe in
his former preferment. But shortlie after it chanced
that king Duncane, hauing two sonnes by his wife
which was the daughter of Siward earle of Northumberland, he made the elder of them called Malcome
prince of Cumberland, as it were thereby to appoint
him his successor in the kingdome, immediatlie after
his deceasse. Mackbeth sore troubled herewith, for
that he saw by this means his hope sore hindered
(where, by the old lawes of the realme, the ordinance
was, that if he that should succeed were not of able




I6o


THE HISTORY OF MAKBETH.


age to take the charge vpon himselfe, he that was next
of bloud unto him should be admitted) he began to
take counsell how he might vsurpe the kingdome by
force, having a just quarell so to doo (as he tooke the
matter) for that Duncane did what in him lay to defraud him of all maner of title and claime, which he
might in time to come, pretend vnto the crowne.
The woords of the three weird sisters also (of whom
before ye haue heard) greatlie incouraged him here< vnto, but speciallie his wife lay sore upon him to
attempt the thing, as she that was verie ambitious,
burning in vnquenchable desire to beare the name of
a queene.  At length therefore, communicating his
purposed intent with his trustie friends, amongst
\ whome Banquho was the chiefest, upon confidence
of their promised aid, he slue the king at Enuerns,
or (as some say) at Botgosuane, in the sixt yeare of
his reigne. Then hauing a companie about him of
such as he had made priuie to his enterprise, he caused
himselfe to be proclaimed king, and foorthwith went. unto Scone, where (by common consent) he receiued
the inuesture of the kingdome according to the accustomed maner. The bodie of Duncane was first conueied vnto Elgine, and there buried in kinglie wise;
but afterwards it was remoued and conueied vnto
Colmekill, and there laid in a sepulture amongst his
predecessors, in the year after the birth of our Saviour,
Io46.
Malcolme Cammore and Donald Bane the sons of
king Duncane, for feare of their iues (which they
might well know that Mackbeth would sdeke to bring
to end for his more sure confirmation in the estate)
fled into Cumberland, where Malcolme remained, till
Atime that saint Edward the sonne of Etheldred recouered the dominion of England from the Danish
power, the which Edward receiued Malcolme by way
of most friendlie enterteinment: but Donald passed




THE HISTORY OF MAKBETH.


ouer into Ireland, where he was tenderlie cherished
by the king of that land. Mackbeth, after the departure thus of Duncanes sonnes, vsed great liberalitie
towards the nobles of the realme, thereby to win their
fauour, and when he saw that no man went about to
trouble him, he set his whole intention to mainteine
iustice, and to punish all enormities and abuses,
which had chanced through the feeble and slouthfull
administration of Duncane. And to bring his purpose
the better to passe without anie trouble or great
businesse, he deuised a subtill wile to bring all
offendors and misdooers unto iustice, soliciting sundrie
of his liege people with high rewards, to challenge
and appeale such as most oppressed the commons, to
come at a day and place appointed, to fight singular
combats within barriers, in triall of their accusations.
When these theeues, barrettors, and other oppressors
of the innocent people werb come to darren battell in
this wise (as is said) they were streight waies apprehended by armed men, and trussed vp in halters on
gibbets, according as they had iustlie deserued. The
residue of misdooers that were left, were punished
and tamed in such sort, that manie yeares after all
theft and reiffings were little heard of the people inioieng the blissefull benefit of good peace and tranquilitie. Mackbeth shewing himselfe thus a most
diligent punisher of all iniuries and wrongs attempted
by anie disordered persons within his realme, was
accounted the sure defense and buckler of innocent
people; and hereto he also applied his whole indeuor,
to cause yoong men to exercise themselves in vertuous
maners, and men of the church to attend their diuine
seruice according to their vocations.
He caused to be slaine sundrie thanes, as of Cathnes,
Sutherland, Stranauerne, and Ros, because through
them and their seditious attempts, much trouble dailie
rose in the realme. He appeased the troublesome state
VOL. II.                               L




162      THE HISTORY OF MAKBETH.


of Galloway, and slue one Makgill a tyrant, who had
manie yeares before passed nothing of the regall
authoritie or power. To be briefe, such were the
woorthie doings and princelie acts of this Mackbeth
in the administration of the realme, that if he had
atteined thereunto by rightfull means, and continued
in vprightnesse of justice as he began, till the end of
his reigne, he might well have beene numbred amongest
the most noble princes that anie where had reigned.
He made manie holesome laws and statutes for the
publike weale of his subjects.......
But this was but a counterfet zeale of equitie
shewed by him, partlie against his naturall inclination
to purchase thereby the fauour of the people. Shortlie
after, he began to shew what he was, in stead of equitie
practising crueltie. For the pricke of conscience (as
it chanceth euer in tyrants, and such as atteine to anie
' estate by vnrighteous means) caused him euer to feare,
least he should be serued of the same cup, as he had
ministred to his predecessor. The woords also of the
three weird sisters, would not out of his mind, which as
they promised him the kingdome, so likewise did they
promise it at the same time vnto the posteritie of Banquho. He willed therefore the same Banquho with
his sonne named Fleance, to come to a supper that he
-had prepared for them, which was in deed, as he had
/ deuised, present death at the hands of certeine murderers, whom he hired to execute that deed, appointing them to meete with the same Banquho and his
sonne without the palace, as they returned to their
lodgings, and there to slea them, so that he would
not haue his house slandered, but that in time to come
he might cleare himselfe, if anie thing were laid to his
charge vpon anie suspicion that might arise.
It chanced yet by the benefit of the darke night,
j that though the father were slaine, the sonne yet
by the helpe of almightie God reserving him to




THE HISTORY OF MAKBETH.


I63


better fortune, escaped that danger: and afterwards
hauing some inkeling (by the admonition of some
friends which he had in the court) how his life was
sought no lesse than his fathers, who was slaine not
by chance medlie (as by the handling of the matter
Makbeth would haue it to appeare) but euen upon a
prepensed deuise: wherevpon to auoid further perill
he fled into Wales. ~ But here I thinke it shall not
much make against my purpose, if (according to th'
order which I find obserued in the Scotish historie) I
shall in few words rehearse the originall line of those
kings, which have descended from the foresaid Banquho, that they which have inioied the kingdome by
so long continuance of descent, from one to another,
and that euen unto these our daies, may be knowen
from whence they had their first beginning.
Fleance therefore (as before is said) fled into Wales,
where shortlie after by his courteous and amiable behaviour, he grew into such fauour and estimation with
the prince of that countrie, that he might vnneath
haue wished anie greater; at length also he came into
such familiar acquaintance with the said princes
daughter, that she of courtesie in the end suffered him
to get hir with child; which being once vnderstood,
hir father the prince conceiued such hatefull displeasure towards Fleance, that he finallie slue him, and
held his daughter in most vile estate of seruitude, for
that she had consented to be on this wise defloured
by a stranger. At the last yet, she was deliuered of
a sonne named Walter, who within few yeares prooued
a man of greater courage and valiancie, than anie other
had commonlie bdene found, although he had no
better bringing vp than (by his grandfathers appointment) among the baser sort of people. Howbeit he
shewed euer euen from his infancie, that there reigned
in him a certeine stoutnesse of stomach, readie to
attempt high enterprises.




I64


THE HISTORY OF MAKBETH.


It chanced that falling out with one of his companions, after manie tawnting words which passed
betwixt them, the other to his reproch objected that
he was a bastard, and begotten in vnlawfull bed;
wherewith being sore kindled, in his raging furie he
ran vpon him and slue him out of hand. Then was
he glad to flUe out of Wales, and comming into Scotland to seeke some friendship there, he happened into
the companie of such Englishmen, as were come
thither with queene Margaret, and behaued himselfe
so soberlie in all his demeanours, that within a while
he was highlie esteemed amongest them. Not long
after by such means atteining to the degree of high
reputation, he was sent with a great power of lnen
into the westerne Iles, into Galloway, and other parts
of the realme, to deliver the same from the tyraipie
and iniurious oppression there exercised by diuers
misgoverned persons; which enterprise according to
his commission he atchiued, with such prudent policie
and manhood, that immediatlie upon his returne to
the court, he was made lord steward of Scotland, with
assignement to receiue the kings rents and duties out
of the parts of the realme.
This Walter Steward had a sonne named Alane
Steward, who went after with Godfreie of Bullogne
duke of Loraine, and Robert duke of Normandie
sonne to king William the bastard that conquered
England, into the holie land, at what time they with
other westerne princes made the great iournie thither,
in the year 1099.   Alane had issue Alexander
Steward, that founded the abbeie of Pasleie of saint
Benedicts order. Walter Steward, whose valiancie
was well notified at the battell of Largis, as hereafter
shall be shewed, was the sonne of the said Alexander.
The same Walter had issue two sons, the one named
Alexander fought right valiantlie in defense of his
father at the foresaid battell; and the other named




THE HISTORY OF MAKBETH.


I65


Robert Steward got the lands of Terbowtoune, and
maried the heire of Crukeistoune, from whom descended the earles of Levenox and Dernlie. Moreover, the above mentioned Alexander Steward that
founded Paselie, had diuerse mo sonnes, as Iohn and
Iames, with sundrie other. Howbeit they tooke new
surnames by the name of those lands, vnto the which
they succeeded.  The afore recited John Steward,
after the death of his brother James, maried the heire
of Bonkill a virgine of great beautie, and had by hir
Walter Steward that inherited the lands of Bonkill,
Ranfrew, Rothessaie, Bute, and Stewatoune, after that
his father the forenamed Iohn was slaine at Falkirke.
He maried Margerie Bruce daughter to king Robert
Bruce, by whome he had issue king Robert the second
of that name. This Robert the second tooke to wife
one Isabell Mure, a damsell of right excellent beautie,
she was daughter to Sir Adham Mure knight, and
brought foorth issue, three sonnes and three daughters.
The eldest sonne hight Iohn Steward otherwise named
Robert, who succeeded immediatlie after his fathers
deceasse in gouernance of the crowne. The second
called Robert was made earle of Fife and Menteith,
also he was created duke of Albanie, and ruled the
realme of Scotland vnder the name of gouernour, for
the space of fifteene yeares. The third sonne named
Alexander was earle of Buchquhane and lord of
Baudzenot.  The eldest daughter was maried to
James that was the sonne and heire of William earle
of Dowglas. The second daughter was maried to
lohn Dunbar, brother to George of Dunbar earle of
March, and was made to the aduancement of his
further fame earle of Murrey. He begot on hir one
onelie daughter, that was maried to the Dowglas,
and so Dowglas came to the earledome of Murrey.
The third daughter was maried vnto Iohn Lioun, that
was after made lord of Glammis.




I66


THE IISTORY OF MAKBETH.


Moreover, the fcresaid Robert that was the first of
the Stewards which ware the crowne in Scotland,
maried Ewfame daughter to the earle of Rosse, and
got on hir two sonnes, Walter earle of Atholl, and
Dauid earle of Stratherne. This Walter sollicited
Robert duke of Albanie, to slea Dauid Steward duke
of Rothsaie. And after that Iames the first was returned home foorth of England, hee did what he could
to mooue him to slea all the linage of the said duke,
still being in hope after the dispatch of his kinsmen
to come to the crowne himselfe, which hope mooued
him to procure his nephue Robert Steward, and Robert
Graham his daughters son, to slea king Iames the
first also, for the which crime the same Walter was
after convicted and destroied with all his sonnes.
His brother David earle of Buchquhane died without
issue, and so the lands of both these brethren returned againe to the crowne, without anie memorie
of their bloud. Of Robert Steward duke of Albanie,
came duke Murdo, who maried the earle of Lennox
daughter, and got on hir three sonnes, Walter, Alexander, and Iames.
Duke Murdo himselfe with his two first sonnes
were slaine at Striveling by king Iames the first, and
the third brother lames in reuenge thereof burnt
Dumbertane, and was after chased into Ireland, where
he deceassed without issue. Robert the third of that
name maried Annabill Drommond, daughter to sir
Iohn Drommond of Strobhall knight, and got on hir
David and James. The first died in Falkland, and
the other atteined the crowne, and was called lames
the first and maried the ladie Iane daughter to Iohn
Beauford earle of Summerset in England. He had by
hir two sonnes borne at one birth, Alexander and
James. The first died yoong, the second atteined
the crowne, named James the second. Iames the
first had also six daughters, of the which the eldest




THE HISTORY OF MAKBETH.


i67


was giuen in mariage to the Dolphine of France, the
second to the duke of Britaine, the third to the lord
of Feir, the fourth to the lord of Dalkeith, the fift to
the earle of Huntley, and the sixt had no succession.
lames the second maried Margaret daughter to the
duke of Gelderland, and begot on hir three sonnes,
and two daughters.
The first succeeded him in the kingdome, and was
called Iames the third: the second named Alexander
was duke of Albanie, and maried first the earle of
Orkenies daughter, and got on hir Alexander, that
was afterward bishop of Murrey, and then parting
with hir went into France, where he maried the countesse of Bullogne, and begot on hir John Steward duke
of Albanie, that was gouernor of Scotland manie yeeres
in the minoritie of lames the fift. The third sonne,
Iohn Steward, was earle of Mar, whose chance was to
be slaine in the Cannogat in a bathfat.  The first
daughter of lames the second was maried to the lord
Boid, who begot on hir a sonne that was slaine by
the lord Mongumrie, and a daughter that was maried
to the earle of Cassels. After the death of the Lord
Boid, the husband of this first daughter of Iames the
second, she was eftsoones maried to the lord Hammilton, and by that means was the house of the Hammiltons honored with the kings bloud.  The other
sister was maried to the lord Creichton, of whom came
small succession woorthie to be mentioned. Iames
the third married Margaret daughter to the king of
Denmarke. Of the which mariage was born Iames the
fourth, Alexander that was bishop of saint Andrews
and Duke of Albanie, and Iohn Steward earle of Mar,
but these two died without issue.
lames the fourth maried Margaret daughter to king
Henrie the seventh of England, and begot on hir
Iames the fift, who marieng first the ladie Magdalen
daughter to Francis the French king, had no issue by




i68


THE HISTORY OF MAKBETH.


hir, for that she died in the yeere next after hir comming into Scotland, and then shortlie after the said
lames the fift maried the ladie Marie de Lorrein,
duchesse of Lonuile, a widow, and by hir had he
issue Marie queene of Scotland, that tooke to husband
Henrie Steward lord Dernlie, by whom she had issue
Charles lames, now king of Scotland. But to returne
unto Makbeth, in continuing the historie, and to begin
where I left, ye shall vnderstand that after the contriued slaughter of Banquho, nothing prospered with
the foresaid Makbeth: for in maner euerie man began
to doubt his owne life, and durst vnneth appeare in
the kings presence; and euen as there were manie
that stood in feare of him, so likewise stood he in
feare of manie, in such sort that he began to make
those awaie by one surmized cauillation or other,
whome he thought most able to worke him anie displeasure.
At length he found such sweetnesse by putting his
nobles thus to death, that his earnest thirst after bloud
in this behalfe might in no wise be satisfied: for ye
must consider he wan double profit (as hee thought)
hereby: for first they were rid out of the way whome
he feared, and then againe his coffers were inriched
by their goods which were forfeited to his use, whereby he might better mainteine a gard of armed men
about him to defend his person from iniurie of them
whome he had in anie suspicion. Further, to the end
he might the more cruellie oppresse his subjects with
all tyrantlike wrongs, he builded a strong castell on
J the top of an hie hill called Dunsinane, situate in
Gowrie, ten miles from Perth, on such a proud height,
that standing there aloft, a man might behold well
neere all the countries of Angus, Fife, Stermond, and
Ernedale, as it were lieng vnderneath him. This castell then being founded on the top of that high hill,
put the realme to great charges before it was finished,




THE HISTORY OF MAKBETH.


i69


for all the stuffe necessarie to the building could not
be brougth vp without much toile and businesse. But
Makbeth being once determined to haue the worke
go forward, caused the thanes of each shire within
the realme to come and helpe towards that building,
each man his course about.
At the last, when the turne fell vnto Makduffe thane
of Fife to build his part, he sent workemen with all
needfull prouision, and commanded them to shew
such diligence in euerie behalfe, that no occasion
might bee giuen for the king to find fault with him, in
that he came not himselfe as other had doone, which
he refused to doo, for doubt least the king bearing
him (as he partlie vnderstood) no great good will,?
would laie violent hands vpon him, as he had doon
vpon diuerse other. Shortlie after, Makbeth comming
to behold how the worke went forward, and bicause
he found not Makduffe there, he was sore offended,
and said; I perceiue this man will neuer obeie my
commandements, till he be ridden with a snaffle: but
I shall prouide well inough for him. Neither could
he afterwards abide to looke upon the said Makduffe,
either for that he thought his puissance ouer great:
either else for that he had learned of certaine wizzards,
in whose words he put great confidence (for that the
prophesie had happened so right, which the three faries
or weird sisters had declared vnto him) how that he
ought to take heed of Makduffe, who in time to come
would seeke to destroie him.
And surelie herevpon had he put Makduffe to
death, but that a certeine witch, whome hee had in
great trust, had told that he neuer should be slaine,
with man borne of anie woman, nor uanquished till
the wood of Bernane came to the castell of Dunsinane. By this prophesie Makbeth put all fear out of
his heart, supposing he might do what he would,
without anie fear to be punished for the same, for by




170


THE HISTORY OF MAKBETH,


the one prophesie he beleeued it was vnpossible for anie
man to vanquish him, and by the other vnpossible to
slea him. This vaine hope caused him to doo manie
outragious things, to the greeuous oppression of his
subjects. At length Makduffe, to auoid perill of life,
purposed with himselfe to passe into England, to
procure Malcolme Cammore to claime the crowne of
Scotland. But this was not so secretlie deuised by
Makduffe, but that Makbeth had knowledge giuen
him thereof: for kings (as is said) haue sharpe sight.like unto Lynx, and long ears like vnto Midas. For
Makbeth had in euerie noble mans house, one slie
fellow or other in fee with him, to reveale all that was
said or doone within the same, by which slight he
oppressed the most part of the nobles of his realme.
Immediatlie then, being aduertised whereabout
Makduffe went, he came hastily with a great power
into Fife, and foorthwith besieged the castell where
Makduffe dwelled, trusting to have found him therein.
They that kept the house, without anie resistance
opened the gates, and sufferedhim to enter, mistrusting
none evill. But neverthelesse Makbeth most cruellie
A caused the wife and children of Makduffe, with all
other whom he found in that castell, to be slaine.
Also he confiscated the goods of Makduffe, proclamed
him traitor, and confined him out of all the parts of
his realme; but Macduffe was alreadie escaped out of
danger, and gotten into England vnto Malcolme Cammore, to trie what purchase hee might make by meanes
of his support, to reuenge the slaughter so cruellie executed on his wife, his children, and other friends. At his
comming vnto Malcolme, he declared into what great
miserie the estate of Scotland was brought, by the
detestable cruelties exercised by the tyrant Makbeth,
hauing committed manie horrible slaughters and
murders, both as well of the nobles as commons, for
the which he was hated right mortallie of all his liege




THE HISTORY OF MAKKBETH.


17


people, desiring nothing more than to be deliuered of
that intollerable and heauie yoke of thraldome, which
they susteined at such a caitaifes hands.
Malcolme hearing Makduffes woords, which he
vttered in verie lamentable sort, for meere compassion
and verie ruth that pearsed his sorrowfull hart, bewailing the miserable state of his countrie, he fetched a
deepe sigh; which Makduffe perceiuing, began to fall
most earnestlie in hand with him, to enterprise the
deliuering of the Scotish people out of the hands of
so cruell and bloudie a tyrant, as Makbeth by too
manie plaine experiments did shew himselfe to be:
which was an easie matter for him to bring to passe,
considering not onlie the good title he had, but also
the earnest desire of the people to haue some occasion
ministred, whereby they might be reuenged of those
notable iniuries, which they daillie susteined by the
outragious crueltie of Makbeths misgouernance.
Though Malcolme was verie sorrowfull for the oppression of his countriemen the Scots, in maner as Makduffe had declared; yet doubting whether he were
come as one that ment vnfeinedlie as he spake, or
else as sent from Makbeth to betraie him, he thought
to have some further triall, and therevpon dissembling
his mind at the first, he answered as followeth:
"I am trulie verie sorie for the miserie chanced to
my countrie of Scotland, but though I haue neuer so
great affection to relieue the same, yet by reason of
certeine incurable vices, which reigne in me, I am
nothing meet thereto. First, such immoderate lust
and voluptuous sensualitie (the abhominable founteine
of all vices) followeth me, that if I were made king of
Scots, I should seeke to defloure young maids and
matrones, in such wise that mine intemperancie should
be more importable vnto you, than the bloudie
tyrannie of Makbeth now is." Heerevnto Makduffe
answered: "This suerlie is a verie euill fault, for




172


THE HISTORY OF MAKBETH.


manie noble princes and kings haue lost both lives
and kingdomes for the same; neuerthelesse there are
women enow in Scotland, and therefore follow my
' counsell. Make thy selfe king, and I shall conueie
the matter so wiselie, that thou shalt be so satisfied
at thy pleasure in such secret wise, that no man shall
be aware thereof."
Then said Malcolme, " I am also the most auaritious
creature on the earth, so that if I were king, I should
seeke so manie waies to get lands and goods, that I
-would slea the most part of all the nobles of Scotland
by surmized accusations, to the end I might inioy
their lands, goods, and possessions; and therefore to
show you what mischiefe may insue on you through
mine vnsatiable couetousnes, I will rehearse vnto you
a fable. There was a fox hauing a sore place on him
ouerset with a swarme of flies, that continuallie sucked
out hir bloud: and when one that came by and saw this
manner, demanded whether she would haue the flies
driven beside hir, she answered no: for if these flies
that are alreadie full, and by reason thereof sucke not
verie egerlie, should be chased awaie, other that are
emptie and fellie an hungred should light in their
places, and sucke out the residue of my bloud farre
more to my greevance than these, which now being
satisfied doo not much annoie me. Therefore saith
Malcolme, suffer me to remaine where I am, least if
I atteine to the regiment of your realme, mine vnquenchable auarice may prooue such; that ye would
thinke the displeasures which now grieue you, should
seeme easie in respect of the vnmeasurable outrage,
which might insue through my comming amongst you."
Makduffe to this made answer, " how it was a far
woorse fault than the other: for auarice is the root of
all mischiefe, and for that crime the most part of our
kings haue bdene slaine and brought to their finall
end. Yet notwithstanding follow my counsell, and




THE HISTORY OF MAKBETH.


I73


take vpon thee the crowne. There is gold and riches
inough in Scotland to satisfie thy greedie desire."
Then said Malcolme againe, "I am furthermore inclined to dissimulation, telling of leasings and all other
kinds of deceit, so that I naturallie reioise in nothing
so much as to betraie and deceive such as put anie
trust or confidence in my woords. Then sith there is
nothing that more becommeth a prince than constancie, veritie, truth, and iustice, with the other
laudable fellowship of those faire and noble vertues
which are comprehended onelie in soothfastnesse,
and that lieng vtterlie ouerthroweth the same; you
see how vnable I am to gouerne anie prouince or
region: and therefore sith you have remedies to cloke
and hide all the rest of my other vices, I pray you find
shift to cloke this vice amongst the residue."
Then said Makduffe: " This yet is the woorst of
all, and there I leaue thee, and therefore saie; Oh ye
vnhappie miserable Scotishmen, which are thus
scourged with so manie and sundrie calamities, ech
one aboue other! Ye haue one curssed and wicked
tyrant that now reigneth ouer you, without anie right
or title, oppressing you with his most bloudie crueltie.
This other that hath the right to the crowne, is so
replet with the inconstant behauiour and manifest
vices of Englishmen, that he is nothing woorthie to
inioy it: for it is by his owne confession he is not
onelie auaritious, and giuen to vnsatiable lust, but so
false a traitor withall, that no trust is to be had vnto
anie woord he speaketh. Adieu Scotland, for now I
account my selfe a banished man for euer, without
comfort or consolation:" and with those woords the
brackish teares trickled downe his cheekes verie
abundantlie.
At last, when he was readie to depart, Malcolme
tooke him by the slheve, and said: "Be of good
comfort Makduffe, for I haue none of these uices




I74


THE HISTORY OF MAKBETH.


before remembred, but haue iested with thee in this
manner, onelie to prooue thy mind: for diuerse
times heeretofore hath Makbeth sought by this
manner of meanes to bring me into his hands, but
the more slow I haue shewed my selfe to condescend
to thy motion and request, the more diligence shall I
use in accomplishing the same."  Incontinentlie
heerevpon they imbraced ech other, and promising to
be faithfull the one to the other, they fell in consultation how they might best prouide for all their businesse, to bring the same to good effect. Soone after,
Makduffe repairing to the borders of Scotland,
addressed his letters with secret dispatch vnto the
nobles of the realme, declaring how Malcolme was
confederat with him, to come hastilie into Scotland
to claime the crowne, and therefore he required them,
sith he was right inheritor thereto, to assist him with
their powers to recouer the same out of the hands of
the wrongfull vsurper.
In the meane time, Malcolme purchased such fauor
at king Edwards hands, that old Siward earle of
Northumberland was appointed with ten thousand
men with him to go into Scotland, to support him in
this enterprise, for recouerie of his right. After these
newes were spread abroad in Scotland, the nobles
drew into two seuerall factions, the one taking part
with Makbeth, and the other with Malcolme. Heerevpon insued oftentimes sundrie bickerings, and
diuerse light skirmishings: for those that were of
Malcolmes side, would not ieopard to ioine with their
enimies in a pight field, till his comming out of
England to their support. But after that Makbeth
perceiued his enimies power to increase, by such aid
as came to them foorth of England with his aduersarie Malcolme, he recoiled backe into Fife, there
purposing to abide in campe fortified, at the castell
of Dunsinane, and to fight with his enimies, if they




THE HISTORY OF MAKBETH.


I75


ment to pursue him; howbeit some of his friends
aduised him, that it should be best for him, either to
make some agreement with Malcolme, or else to flee
with all speed into the Iles, and to take his treasure
with him, to the end he might wage sundrie great
princes of the realme to take his part, and reteine
strangers, in whome he might better trust than in his
owne subjects, which stale dailie from him; but he
had such confidence in his prophesies, that he beleeued he should neuer be vanquished, till Birnane
wood were brought to Dunsinane; nor yet to be slaine
with anie man, that should be or was borne of anie
woman.
Malcolme following hastilie after Makbeth, came
the night before the battell vnto Birnane wood: and
when his armie had rested a while there to refresh
them, he commanded euerie man to get a bough of
some tree or other of that wood in his hand, as big
as he might beare, and to march foorth therewith in
such wise, that on the next morrow they might come
closelie and without sight in this manner within view
of his enimies.  On the morrow when Makbeth
beheld them comming in this sort, he first maruelled
what the matter ment, but in the end remembred
himselfe that the prophesie which he had heard long
before that time, of the comming of Birnane wood to
Dunsinane castell, was likelie to be now fulfilled.
Neuerthelesse, he brought his men in order of battell,
and exhorted them to doo valiantlie, howbeit his
enimies had scarselie cast from them their boughs,
when Makbeth perceiuing their numbers, betooke
him stteict to flight, whome Makduffe pursued with
great hatred, euen till he came vnto Lunfannaine,
where Makbeth perceiuing that Makduffe was hard
at his backe, leapt beside his horsse, saieng: "Thou
traitor, what meaneth it that thou shouldest thus in
vaine follow me that am not appointed to be slaine




I76       THE HISTORY OF MAKBETH.
by anie creature that is borne of a woman, come on
therefore, and receiue thy reward which thou hast
deserued for thy paines," and therwithall he lifted vp
his swoord thinking to haue slaine him.
But Makduffe quicklie auoiding from his horsse,
yer he came at him, answered (with his naked swoord
in his hand) saieng: " It is true Makbeth, and now
x shall thine insatiable crueltie haue an end, for I am
euen he that thy wizzards haue told thee of, who was
neuer born of my mother, but ripped out of her
wombe:" therewithall he stept vnto him, and slue
him in the place. Then cutting his head from his
shoulders he set it vpon a pole, and brought it vnto
Malcolme. This was the end of Makbeth, after he
had reigned 17 yeeres ouer the Scotishmen. In the
beginning of his reigne he accomplished manie
woorthie acts, verie profitable to the commonwealth
(as ye haue heard) but afterward by illusion of the
diuell, he defamed the same with most terrible
crueltie. He was slaine in the yeere of the incarnation, 1057, and in the I6 yeere of king Edwards
reigne ouer the Englishmen.




CY MBEL I NE.
VoL. it.                     m








i. Abstract of Boccaccio's Tale of
"Bernabo da Genovo," &c.
-0
T  HAT portion of the plot of " Cymbeline" which
relates to the wager on the chastity of Imogen
has been the subject of two old romances and of one
middle-age play in the French language.
It is supposed that the two old French romances
belong to about the same period, the thirteenth century, and both have been recently published by Silvestre, of Paris, the editorship having been confided
to one of the most learned men of our time in this
department of early French poetry-M. Francisque
Michel. The first of these of which we shall speak
bears the title of "Roman de La Violette, ou de
Gerard de Nevers, &c. par Gibert de Montreuil," and
it was printed in 834. We adopt the following analysis of it from " Le Journal de Savans," to which it was
contributed by the learned M. Renouard, and it will
shew at once the connection between it and the
"Cymbeline" of our great dramatist.
"On Easter day, the King of France assembles his
full court at Pont-de-l'Arche. The festival is enlivened




I8o


ABSTRACT OF BOCCACCIO, ETC.


by the presence of knights and ladies, by the dance
and by song.
" La Chatelaine de Dijon asks the young and handsome Gerard de Nevers to sing: he says in his song'J'ai amie la plus belle
Qui soit, dame ne damoiselle,
La plus sage et la plus cortoise,' &c.
"This boast excited the jealousy of some knights.
Liziart offered to pledge his land against that of
Nevers that he would seduce the lady. The wager
was accepted, and the king approved of it.
"Liziart arrives at Nevers, is admitted into the
presence of the beautiful Oriant, who receives him at
her table: he declares his love, but she refuses him.
Believing that he has lost his wager, he withdraws,
sad and pensive, when he is accosted by old Gondree,
Oriant's duenna, and, after some explanation, Gondree
offers her services. The Count charges her to furnish
him with means to persuade the judges that he has
succeeded.
"A little secret hole in the room where Oriant took
a bath enables Gondree to recognise a peculiar mark
on her body.
'La demoiselle s'esgarde au baing
Maintenant a coisi je saing
Et vit sur sa destre mamele
Un violete novele
Ynde parut sous la char blanche.'
"Gondree calls Liziart, who, looking in his turn,
' I voit
De sur sa destre mamelete
Le semblant d'une violete.'
"Satisfied with his discovery, Liziart returns to the
king, and declares before all the court that he is ready
to produce the proof of his success. Oriant is summoned to judgment. Geoffroi, the nephew of Gerard,




ABSTRACT OF BOCCACCIO, ETC.


18r


receives from him the charge of fetching the lady.
She shortly arrives, and, in presence of the king and
his court, Liziart adduces as proof his knowledge of
the violet on Oriant's body. The wager is decided:
Gerard quits the court, and carries his lady with him.
They arrive in a forest. At the same instant that he
has resolved to despatch her with his sword, a frightful
serpent appears.  The lady perceives it, and bids
Gerard save himself, but he attacks it and kills it.
After that he departs, abandoning her whom he believes
guilty: she remains behind in despair, and faints.
The Duke of Metz passes with his knights: struck
with the beauty of the unfortunate lady, he obliges
her to come to his palace with him, and even forms
the design of marrying her.
"Gerard, on his part, wishes to go to Nevers, to
see how Liziart governs the country. On his road he
lodges with a minstrel, whose dress and instrument he
assumes. He arrives in this disguise, and is admitted
into the presence of Liziart: he sings a passage from
the poem of Guillaume de Courtney. He happens
afterwards to hear the conversation of Liziart and
Gondree, and, by their discourse, he is convinced of
the innocence of Oriant, and determines to go in
search of her.
" The subsequent details of the romance are numerous and various. It is sufficient to say that, in the
end, Gerard finds his love again, delivering her from
the consequences of an accusation that hung over her.
He conducts her to the king, who is convinced of her
innocence. The romance finishes by a combat between Gerard and Liziart, who is vanquished, but does
not die without rendering justice to her whom he had
so basely outraged."
Such is the outline of the fable of the romance of
"La Violette," and we need only follow it by a detail
of some of the leading incidents of the " Roman de




182      ABSTRACT OF BOCCACCIO, ETC.


Compte de Poitiers," to prove the intimate relation of
one to the other.  The " Roman de la Violette " was
printed in 1834, in a style superior to that in which
"Le Compte de Poitiers" had appeared in I831. We
are again indebted to Renouard and the " Journal de
Savans."
"The following is the analysis of the first part of
the romance of the  Count de Poitiers.'
" In the beginning there are quotations from several
works, which shew that it must have been composed
after them:
'Vous aves maintes fois o0
Chanter du lignage Aimeri,
De Karloman le poissant,
Et d'Ollivier, et de Rolland,
Et de Guillaume fiere-brache
Et de Rainouart a le mache.'
"Pepin held his court at Paris, and had at his table
several knights and counts, among whom'Li plus envoisies
Cou fu li biaus Quens de Poitiers
Li bers avoit a nom Gerars,'
who, asserting that his wife was the most beautiful
among ladies, said,'Qui tot le monde cerqueroit
Paienie et crestiente,
Ne trouveroit on sa biaute.
Qu' il nest rose, tant soit novele,
Que ses biautes ne soit plus bele.'
"To this eulogium of his lady's charms he added
that of her fidelity:'Ne lairait ele autrui joir
Des membres dont j'ai mon plaisir.'
"Piqued with these boasts, the Duke of Normandy
offers to wager Normandy against Poitou that he will




ABSTRACT OF BOCCA CCIO ETC.


183


obtain the lady's favour. The challenge is accepted:
the Duke repairs to Poitiers, presents himself to the
countess, and asks hospitality, which she grants him.
"During dinner the duke indulges in the intimacy
that his rank claims:' Le pie li marche maintes fois.'
After dinner he makes his declaration, which the lady
rejects, and she retires, leaving the duke as ashamed
as incensed:
'Plorant s'apoie a la fenestre....
I1 crient sa terre avoir perdu.'
The countess relates the duke's insolent proposals to
her nurse: the nurse goes in search of him, and,
treacherous to her mistress, offers to help him to gain
his wager, for which the duke promises her a great
reward.
"Next, this perfidious woman steals her mistress'
ring from her finger, without her knowledge, and in
disentangling her hair with a comb, takes away some
hairs, and contrives to cut off a little
' Del bon samit qu'ele ot vestu.'
"The treacherous nurse gives the duke these tokens,
that he may use them against the countess.
" The duke presents himself before King Pepin, and
he says to the count:'Ensagnes ai qui font a croire
Ves chi X de cheveux sors,
Qui plus reluisent que fins ors
Ves qui Panel qui li donastes
A icel jor que l'espousastes;
Et ceste ensagne de cendal
Fu pris au bon samit roial
Que votre feme avoit vestu
J'ai gaagnie et vous perdu.'
" Pepin commands the countess to come to Paris,




184


ABSTRACT OF BOCCACCIO, ETC.


and the count gives his nephew Geoffroi the charge
of fetching her. She arrives, and denies having yielded,
but Pepin pronounces in favour of the duke.
"The Count de Poitiers leaves the court with his
wife. The third day they enter a thick forest, and
dismounting from his horse, the husband bitterly reproaches the unfortunate lady, who tries to undeceive
him. At the instant the enraged count drawing his
sword, has seized her by the hair, a lion appears, and
rushes suddenly upon them: the count defends himself.
'Mais ii lions se resvertue
Contre le comte s'est drecies.'
"At last the count stabs and overcomes the
animal. Having conquered the lion, he departs,
abandoning his wife, who from grief and terror falls
into a swoon.
'Sor i perron de marbre bis
Que sanglent en a tot le vis.'
"Harpin, a relation of the duke's, passing by the
forest, finds the lion dead, and the lady in despair,
and he compels her to go with him.
"The Count de Poitiers, after many adventures, is
attacked by a great serpent and kills it,-an uninteresting and ill-chosen episode, and merely a repetition of his victory over the lion.
" On his road the count meets with a peasant, and
wishes to change his own scarlet vesture for the
peasant's rags, but he is refused. A pilgrim is more
accommodating, and gives him his dress, and stains
his face, so that he may not be discovered.
Plus noirs est d'airement boulli.'
"The count arrives at Poitiers disguised as a pilgrim,
and going to the duke, who was at table, and not




ABSTRACT OF BOCCACCIO, ETC.


I85


being badly received, he does not then avenge himself, but yielding to a feeling of generosity that he
thinks he owes to the hospitality of his enemy, he
says to himself,
'Dans Dus s'ui mais vous occhoie
Trop mal traison feroie.'
"He seats himself at a great charcoal fire, and is
witness of a conversation between the duke and the
nurse who had betrayed the countess, and he is convinced of his wife's innocence.  He resolves to go in
search of her, and determines to prove the falsehood
of the accusation, and to punish the duke.
He returns to the pilgrim   whose dress he had
borrowed, and receives his own again.  He goes to
his relation Harpin: he is soon informed that Harpin
is going to marry a lady that he forces to the altar.
The priest arrives: the lady, whom he asks'Dame vol6 le e signor prendre?'
answers firmly,
'Chertes ains me l'arroie pendre
Ja voir n'aurai mari ne dru
Quant j'ai mon bon seignor perdu.'
"Witnessing this refusal, the count determines to
deliver the victim. He rushes upon Harpin, and
recognises his wife he had abandoned: he relates his
adventure to his followers, and, collecting his relations and friends together, they all repair to the court
of Pepin. Here the count denounces the treachery
of the nurse, and the duke's crime: he challenges
him, the combat takes place, and the victory is declared against the traitor, who at the moment of his
death owns all that has passed:'Que la contesse et Ioiaus dame
La fus pendus et traines,
Et la vielle ot trencid le nes
Et les orelles ambedeus,' &c.




i86


ABSTRACT OF BOCCACCIO, ETC.


Normandy is adjudged to the count:' Or est la contesse joians
Car ele est dames des Normans;
Pepin l'en a doune le don,
Voiant maint prince et maint baron.'
' Such (adds M. Renouard) is the analysis of the
first part of the romance of ' The Count de Poitiers.'
The French play of the middle age, containing the
same incidents, is included in a very fine collection of
early dramas, edited by MM. Monmerque and Michel,
and published in 1839 under the following title:
"Theatre Franqais au Moyen-age, publie d'apres les
Manuscrits de la Bibliotheque du Roi." This noble
and excellent volume comprises 700 pages, in double
columns, the ancient French occupying one column,
and the modern translation the other; and the play
in question, under the general title of " Un Miracle
de Nostre-Dame," commences on p. 431.  It is little
more than the romance, with some variations, put into
a dramatic form, in which not only the characters
engaged in the story, but the Creator, the Virgin, the
archangels Gabriel and Michael, and St John are concerned as interlocutors. We subjoin a summary of
the incidents, which we extract from "Farther Particulars of Shakespeare and his Works," 8vo, I839,
which, as only fifty copies of it were printed, may not
have fallen in the way of some of our readers.
" Lotaire, the emperor, makes war on Alfons, king
of Spain; the latter flies to his brother, the king of
Grenada, for assistance. During his absence Lotaire
and his nephew, Ostes, lay siege to Burgos, and there
capture Denise, the daughter of Alfons.  Lotaire
procures Ostes to be married to Denise, and makes
them king and queen of Spain. Lotaire and Ostes
for a time quit Spain for Rome, leaving Denise behind
in Burgos. At Rome Ostes meets Count Berengier,




ABSTRACT OF BOCCACCIO, ETC.


I87


and the latter wagers his possessions with the former,
who gages his kingdom of Spain, on the chastity of
Denise during her husband's absence.   Berengier
proceeds to Burgos to make the attempt, and concerts with Eglantine, the female attendant of Denise,
in order to accomplish his purpose. She gives her
mistress a sleeping draught, and then steals what
Denise most valued (un os d'un des doigts du pied de
son mari, which he had given her just before his departure for Rome), and informs Berengier of some
secret mark she carried on her person. Berengier
returns to Rome, shews the os in triumph, and discloses the secret mark he pretends to have seen.
Ostes determines to kill Denise; but she is pre-informed of his intention, and, by the advice of the
Virgin, flies from Burgos to her father and uncle at
Grenada, in male attire. She is taken into the service of the latter, and, unknown to be a woman, is
made his standard-bearer. Ostes, unable to find her
and wreak his vengeance upon her, turns renegade,
blasphemes his Creator, and serves the Saracens. In
the mean while the king of Grenada and Alfons collect their forces, and are about to march against
Lotaire, when Denise (who now calls herself Denis)
entreats that she may proceed to Rome to have an
interview with Lotaire, promising to do her best to
render bloodshed unnecessary. She goes to Rome,
and, proclaiming Berengier a traitor to Denise, challenges him to single combat. Ostes by this time has
repented his denial of Christianity, and, warned from
heaven, proceeds to Rome to do penance for his sin.
He arrives when the combat between Denise and
Berengier is about to take place. Ostes, too, challenges the traitor, and is adjudged to enter the lists
against him in preference to Denise. Berengier is
overcome, confesses his crime, Denise discloses her
sex, and the war is at an end. Alfons is not restored




J88


ABSTRACT OF BOCCACCIO, ETC.


to his kingdom, which continues in the hands of Ostes
and Denise, but Lotaire gives him the kingdom of
Mirabel, and the comte of Vaux-Plaissiez, while the
king of Grenada bestows upon him land which will
yield him 3000 livres per annum."
From the tract which has furnished us with the
preceding sketch we extract the following, where some
striking similarities between " Cymbeline" and the
French drama are illustrated.
" There are two points of resemblance between the
French Miracle and Shakespeare which may deserve
remark. Berengier tells Ostes, when proposing the
wager,
'Et vous dy bien que je me vant
Que je ne sAay femme vivant,
Mais que ij foiz a li parlasse,
Que le tierce avoir n'en cuidasse
Tout mon delit.'
That is to say, 'I tell you truly that I boast that I
know no woman living, but if I might speak to her
twice, at the third time I might have all my desire.'
Iachimo (Cymbeline, Act i. sc. 5) says, 'With no
more advantage than the opportunity of a second conference, and I will bring you from thence that honour
of hers which you imagine so reserved.'   This is
found neither in Boccaccio nor in   Westward for
Smelts.'
"Again, in the French miracle-play, Berengier, endeavouring to work upon the jealousy of Denise, tells
her,
'De Romme vien, ou j'ay laissie
Vostre seigneur, qui ne vous prise
Pas la queue d'une sense:
D'une garce c'est acointie
Qu'il a en si grand amistie,
Qu'il ne scet de elle departir.'
i.e., 'I come from Rome, where I left your lord, who




ABSTRACT OF BOCCACCIO, ETC.


189


does not value you the stalk of a cherry: he is connected
with a girl for whom he has so strong a regard, that
he knows not how to part from her.' The passage
where Iachimo represents the manner in which Posthumus in Rome spends his revenues upon depraved
women will readily occur to all, and no corresponding inducement is to be met with in the Italian
novelist, nor in the English imitator."
So much for the French authorities for that portion
of the plot of Cymbeline which relates to the wager
on the chastity of Imogen. We will now advert to the
Italian story; and as it is not necessary to reprint
the whole of it with our present purpose, we have
borrowed from Skottowe's " Life of Shakespeare " the
ensuing accurate abridgement of the novel, as it is
found in Gior. II. Nov. 9 of Boccaccio.
"Several Italian merchants met accidentally in
Paris at supper, and conversed freely of their absent
wives. 'I know not,' one jestingly remarked, 'how
my wife conducts herself in my absence; but of this
I am certain, that whenever I meet with an attractive
beauty, I make the best I can of the opportunity.'
'And so do I,' quoth another; 'for whether I believe
my wife unfaithful or not, she will be so if she
pleases.' A third said the same, and all readily coincided in the licentious opinion, except Bernabo
Lomellia, of Genoa, who maintained that he had a
wife perfectly beautiful, in the flower of youth, and
of such indisputable chastity, that he was convinced
if he were absent for ten years she would preserve
her fidelity. A young merchant of Piacenza, Ambrogiulo, was extremely facetious on the subject, and
concluded some libertine remarks by offering to effect
the seduction of this modern Lucretia, provided
opportunity were afforded him. Bernabo answered
his confident boast by the proposition of a wager,
which was instantly accepted.




Igo


ABSTRACT OF BOCCACCIO, ETC.


"According to agreement, Bernabo remained at
Paris, while Ambriogulo set out for Genoa, where his
enquiries soon convinced him that Ginevra, the wife of
Bernabo, had not been too highly praised, and that
his wager would be lost without he could effect by
stratagem what he had certainly no probability of obtaining by direct solicitation. Chance threw in his
way a poor woman often employed in the house of
Ginevra, whom he secured in his interest by a bribe.
Pretending unavoidable absence for a few days, the
woman entreated Ginevra to take charge of a large
chest till she returned. The lady consented, and the
chest, with Ambrogiulo secreted in it, was placed in
Ginevra's bedchamber. When the lady retired to rest,
the villain crept from his concealment, and, by the
light of a taper, took particular notice of the pictures
and furniture, and the form and situation of the apartment. Advancing to the bed, he eagerly sought for
some mark about the lady's person, and at last espied
a mole and a tuft of golden hair upon her left breast.
Then taking a ring, a purse, and other trifles, he returned to his concealment, whence he was not released
till the third day, when the woman returned, and had
the chest conveyed home.
"Ambrogiulo hastily summoned the merchants in
Paris, who were present when the wager was laid.
As a proof of his success he produced the stolen
trinkets; called them gifts from the lady, and described the furniture of the bed-room.  Bernabo
acknowledged the correctness of the account, and
confessed that the purse and ring belonged to his
wife; but added, that as Ambrogiulo might have obtained his account of the room, and procured the
jewels also, from some of Ginevra's servants, his
claim to the money was not established. The proofs
I have given, said Ambrogiulo, ought to suffice; but
as you call on me for more, I will silence your scepti



ABSTRACT OF BOCCACCIO, ETC.


19r


cism at once: Ginevra has a mole on her left breast.
Bernabo's countenance testified the truth of this assertion, and he shortly acknowledged it by words: he
then paid the sum he had wagered, and instantly set
out for Italy. Arriving near his residence, he despatched a messenger for Ginevra, and gave secret
orders that she should be put to death upon the road.
The servant stopped in a lonely place, and declared
his master's harsh instructions. The lady vehemently
protested her innocence of any crime against her husband, besought the compassion of her conductor, and
promised to conceal herself in some distant and obscure abode. Her life was spared, and the servant
returned to his master with some of Ginevra's clothes,
reporting that he had killed her, and left her body to
the ferocity of beasts of prey.
"Ginevra disguised herself in the garments of a
man, and entered into the service of a Catalonian
gentleman, who carried her to Alexandria. Here she
was fortunate enough to attract the attention of the
Sultan, who solicited her from her master. She soon
became a favourite, and, under the name of Sicurano,
was appointed captain of the guard. For the security
of both Christian and Turkish merchants, who resorted
to the fair of Acre, the Sultan annually sent an officer
with a band of soldiers. Sicurano was employed on
this service, where, being in the shop of a Venetian
merchant, she cast her eye upon a purse and girdle,
which she recognised as her own. Without declaring
her discovery, she enquired to whom they belonged,
and whether they were for sale. Ambrogiulo, who had
arrived with a stock of merchandise, now stepped forward, and replied, that the trinkets were his, and
begged Sicurano, since he admired them, to accept of
them. Sicurano asked him why he smiled; when
Ambrogiulo related, that the purse and girdle were
presents to him from a married lady of Genoa, whose




192      ABSTRACT OF BOCCACCIO, ETC.
love he had enjoyed; and that he smiled at the folly
of her husband, who had laid five thousand against
one thousand florins, that the virtue of his wife was
incorruptible.
" The jealousy and revenge of Bernabo were now
explained to Ginevra, and the base artificer of her
ruin now stood before her. She feigned pleasure at
Ambrogiulo's story, cultivated his acquaintance, and
took him with her to Alexandria. Her next care was
to have Bernabo, now reduced to great distress, brought
privately to Alexandria. Then, watching a favourable
opportunity, she prevailed on the Sultan to compel
Ambrogiulo to relate publicly every circumstance of
his villany. Bernabo confessed that he had caused
his wife to be murdered on the supposition of her
guilt with Ambrogiulo. You perceive, said Sicurano
to the Sultan, how little reason the unhappy lady had
to be proud either of her gallant or her husband. If
you, my lord, will punish the deceiver, and pardon
the deceived, the traduced lady shall appear in your
presence. The Sultan assented: Sicurano fell at his
feet, and, discarding her assumed demeanour, declared
herself to be Ginevra: the display of the mole on her
breast banished every doubt. Ambrogiulo was then
put to a cruel death, and his immense wealth was given
to Ginevra.  The Sultan pardoned Bernabo, and
making Ginevra a princely donation of jewels and
money, provided a ship, and suffered her and her
husband to depart for Genoa."
It remains to say a few words respecting the English
version of the same story, where the scene is laid in
this country during the troublesome reign of Henry
VI. It is contained in a publication called " Westward for Smelts," which was entered on the books of
the Stationers' Company, in January, I6I9-20, and
published with the date of I620 on the title-page.
Malone tells us (" Shakspeare," by Boswell, xiii. 229)




ABSTRACT OF BOCCACCIA, ETC.


193


that this work was first published i603; but no copy
of that date exists, and the entry in the Stationers'
Registers seems to establish that it was then a new
publication.  We feel confident that there was no
earlier impression, and that Malone had been misinformed when he spoke of the existence of a copy
dated I603. Had such an impression been issued,
Shakespeare might possibly have availed himself of
it, if, as Malone thought, Cymbeline was produced in
I609. We print it, not because our great dramatist
ever saw it, since it did not come out until four years
after his death, but on account of its connexion with
" Cymbeline," with the two French Romances, with
the French Miracle-play, and with the novel of
Boccaccio. All the incidents are vulgarized in the
English version of them, and it is pretty clear that
the compiler could not have been aware that they
had been previously employed on the stage.


VOL. II,


N




2. The Account of Cymbeline (or
Kymbe/ine) King of Britain.
(From HOLINSHED, ed. I808, i. 479-8o.)l
" K   YMBELINE or Cimbeline the sonne of TheoX  mantius was of the Britains made king after
the deceasse of his father, in the yeare of the world
3944, after the building of Rome 728, and before the
birth of our Saviour 33. This man (as some write)
was brought vp at Rome, and there made knight by
Augustus Cesar, vnder whome he served in the
warres, and was in such fauour with him, that he was
at libertie to pay his tribute or not.... Touching
the continuance of the yeares of Kymbelines reigne,
some writers doo varie, but the best approoued
affirme, that he reigned 35 years and then died, &
was buried at London, leaving behind him two sonnes,
Guiderius and Aruiragus.
But here is to be noted, that although our histories
doo affirme, that as well this Kymbeline, as also his
1 A portion of this meagre narrative does not touch Cymbeline's personal or historical career, and was not worth giving
on any account.




THE ACCOUNT OF CYMBELINE.


I95


father Theomantius liued in quiet with the Romans,
and continuallie to them paied the tributes which the
Britains had couenanted with Iulius Cesar to pay,
yet we find in the Romane writers, that after Iulius
Cesars death, when Augustus had taken vpon him
the rule of the empire, the Britains refused to paie
that tribute: whereat as Cornelius Tacitus reporteth,
Augustus (being otherwise occupied) was content to
winke; howbeit, through earnest calling vpon to
recover his right by such as were desirous to-see the
vttermost of the British Kingdome; at length, to
wit, in the tenth yeare after the death of Iulius Cesar,
which was about the thirteenth yeare of the said
Theomantius, Augustus made prouision to passe
with an armie ouer into Britaine, & was come forward vpon his iournie into Gallia Celtica: or as we
maie saie, into these hither parts of France.
But here receiuing aduertisements that the Pannonians, which inhabited the countrie nowe called
Hungarie, and the Dalmatians whome nowe we call
Slauons had rebelled, he thought it best first to
subdue those rebells neere home, rather than to seeke
new countries, and leaue such in hazard, whereof he
had present possession, and so turning his power
against the Pannonians and Dalmatians, he left off
for a time the warres of Britaine, whereby the land
remained without feare of anie inuasion to be made
by the Romans, till the yeare after the building of the
city of Rome 725, and about the i9 yeere of King
Theomantius reigne, that Augustus with an armie
departed once againe from Rome to passe ouer into
Britaine, there to make warre. But after his coming
into Gallia, when the Britains sent to him certeine
ambassadours to treat with him of peace, he staied
there to settle the state of things among the
Galles, for that they were not in verie good order.
And having finished there, he went into Spaine,




196


THE ACCOUNT OF CYMBELINE.


and so his iournie into Britaine was put off
till the next yeere, that is, the 726 after the building of Rome, which fell before the birth of our
Saviour 25, about which time Augustus eftsoons meant
the third time to haue made a voiage into Britaine,
because they could not agree vpon couenants. But
as the Pannonians and Dalmatians had aforetime
staied him, when (as before is said) he meant to haue
gone against the Britans: so euen now the Salassians
(a people inhabiting about Italie and Switserland) the
Cantabrians and Asturians by such rebellious starts as
they raised, withdrew him from his purposed iournie.
But whether this controuersie which appeareth to fall
forth betwixt the Britains and Augustus, was occasioned by Kymbeline, or some other prince of the Britains, I haue not to auouch: for that by our writers it
is reported, that Kymbeline being brought vp in Rome,
& knighted in the court of Augustus, euer shewed
himselfe a friend to the Romans, & chiefly was loth to
breake with them, because the youth of the Britaine
nation should not be depriued of the benefit to be
trained and brought vp among the Romans, whereby
they might leerne both to behaue themsalues like
ciuill men, and to atteine to the knowledge of feats
of warre."




3. The Tale told by the Fishwife
of Standon-the-Green.


(From "Westward for Smelts.")
-0 -IN the troublesome raigne of King Henry the sixt,
there dwelt in Waltam (not farre from London)
a gentleman, which had to wife a creature most
beautifull: so that in her time there were few found
that matched her, (none at all that excelled her) so
excellent were the gifts that nature had bestowed on
her. In body was she not onely so rare, and unparaleld, but also in her gifts of minde: so that this
creature it seemed, that Grace and Nature strove
who should excell each other in their gifts toward
her. The gentleman her husband thought himselfe
so happy in his choise, that he beleeved, in choosing
her, he tooke hold of that blessing which heaven
proffereth every man once in his life. Long did not
this opinion hold for currant, for in his height of love
he began so to hate her, that he sought her death:
the cause I will tell you. Having businesse one day
to London, he tooke his leave very kindly of his wife,
and accompanied with one man, he rode to London:
being toward night, he tooke up his inne, and to be




I98    THE TALE TOLD BY THE FISHWIFE
briefe, he went to supper amongst other gentlemen.
Amongst other talke at table, one tooke occasion to
speake of women, and what excellent creatures they
were, so long as they continued loyall to man. To
whom answered one, saying: This is truth, Sir: so is
the Divell so long as he doth no harme, which is
neauer 1: his goodnes and womens loyaltie will come
both in one yeere, but it is so farre off, that none in
this age shall live to see it.
This gentleman loving his wife dearely (and knowing her to be free from this uncivill gentlemans generall
taxation of women) in her behalfe, saide: Sir, you
are too bitter against the sexe of women, and doe ill
(for some ones sake that hath proved false to you) to
taxe the generalitie of women-kinde with lightnesse;
and but I would not be counted uncivill amongst
these gentlemen, I would give you the reply that
approved untruth deserveth, you know my meaning,
Sir: construe my words as you please: excuse me,
gentlemen, if I be uncivill: I answere in the behalfe
of one, who is as free from disloyaltie, as the sunne
from darknes, or the fire from cold. Pray, Sir, said
the other, since wee are opposite in opinions, let us
rather talke like lawyers, that wee may be quickly
friends againe, then like souldiers which end their
wordes with blowes. Perhaps this woman that you
answere for is chaste, but yet against her will: for
many women are honest 'cause they have not the
meanes, and opportunitie to bee dis-honest (so is a
thiefe true in prison, 'cause he hath nothing to steale:)
had I but opportunitie, and knew this same saint you
so adore, I would pawne my life and whole estate, in
a short while to bring you some manifest token of
her disloyaltie. Sir, you are yong in the knowledge
of womens slights, your want of experience makes
1 [Meanzer in old copy.]




OF STANDON-THE-GREEN.


I99


you too credulous; therefore be not abused. This
speech of his made the gentleman more out of
patience then before, so that with much adoe he held
himselfe from offering violence: but his anger beeing
a little over, hee said, Sir, I doe verilie beleeve, that
this vaine speech of yours proceedeth rather from a
loose and ill manner'd ininde, then of any experience
you have had of womens loosenes: and since you
thinke your selfe so cunning in that (divellish art) of
corrupting womens chastitie, I will lay downe heere
a hundred pounds, against which you shall lay fifty
pounds, and before these gentlemen I promise you,
if that within a moneths space you bring me anie
token of this gentlewomans disloyaltie, (for whose
sake I have spoken in the behalfe of all women) I
doe freely give you leave to injoy the same; conditionally you not performing it, I may enjoy
your money.    If that it be a match, speake,
and I will acquaint you where she dwelleth: and besides, I vow, as I am a gentleman, not to give her
notice of any such intent that is toward her.  Sir,
quoth the man, your proffer is faire, and I accept the
same: so the mony was delivered into the oast of the
house his hands, and the sitters by were witnesses: so
drinking together like friends, they went every man to
his chamber. The next day this man having knowledge of the place, rid thither, leaving the gentleman
at the inne, who being assured of his wives chastitie,
made no other account but to winne the wager, but it
fell out otherwise: for the other vowed either by force,
policie, or free will to get some jewell or other toy
from her, which was enough to perswade the gentleman that he was a cuckold and win the wager he
had laid. This villaine (for hee deserved no better
stile) lay at Waltam a whole day, before he came to
the sight of her: at last he espyed her in the fields,
to whom he went and kissed her (a thing no modest




200    THE TALE TOLD BY THE FISHWIFE


woman can deny:) after his salutation, he said, Gentlewoman, I pray pardon me if I have beene too bold:
I was intreated by your husband which is at London
(I riding this way) to come and see you: by me he hath
sent his commends to you, with a kinde intreat that
you would not be discontented for his long absence,
it being serious businesse that keepes him from your
sight. The gentlewoman very modestly bade him welcome, thanking him for his kindnes, withall telling
him that her husband might command her patience as
long as he pleased.  Then intreated shee him to
walke homeward, where shee gave him such entertainment as was fit for a gentleman, and her husbands
friend. In the time of his abidink at her house, he
oft would have singled her in private talke, but she
perceiving the same, (knowing it to bee a thing not
fitting a modest woman) would never come in his
sight but at meales, and then were there so many at
boord, that it was no time to talke of love-matters:
therefore hee saw hee must accomplish his desire
some other way, which he did in this maner: He
having layne two nights at her house, and perceiving
her to bee free from lustfull desires, the third night he
fained himselfe to bee something ill, and so went to
bed timelier then he was wont. When he was alone
in his chamber, he began to think with himselfe that
it was now time to do that which he determined; for
if he tarried any longer, they might have cause to
think that he came for some ill intent, and waited
opportunity to execute the same: therefore he resolved to doe something that night, that might winne
him the wager, or utterly bring him in despaire of the
same. With this resolution he went to her chamber,
which was but a paire of staires from his, and finding
the doore open, hee went in, placing himselfe under
the bed: Long had he not lyne there, but in came
the gentlewoman with her maiden; who having been




OF STAN DON —THE-GREEN.


201


at prayers with her houshold, was going to bed. She
preparing herselfe to bedward, laid her head-tyre and
those jewels she wore on a little table there by: at
length hee perceived her to put off a littel crucifix of
gold, which dayly she wore next to her heart, this
jewell he thought fittest for his turne, and therefore
observed where she did lay the same: At length the
gentlewoman having untyred her selfe, went to bed:
her maid then bolting of the doore, tooke the candle,
and went to bed in a withdrawing roome onely separated with arras. This villaine lay still under the bed,
listening if hee could heare that the gentlewoman
slept: at length he might heare her draw her breath
long: then thought hee all sure, and like a cunning
villaine rose without noise, going straight to the table,
where, finding of the crucifix, he lightly went to the
doore, which he cunningly unbolted; all this performed he with so little noise, that neither the mistris
nor the maid heard him.  Having gotten into his
chamber, he wished for day, that he might carry this
jewell to her husband as signe of his wives disloyaltie;
but seeing his wishes but in vaine, he laid him downe
to sleepe: happy had shee beene had his bed proved
his grave. In the morning so soone as the folkes
were stirring, he rose and went to the horse-keeper,
praying him to helpe him to his horse, telling him
that hee had tooke his leave of his mistris the last
night. Mounting his horse, away rid he to London,
leaving the gentlewoman in bed; who when she rose,
attiring her selfe hastily ('cause one tarried to speake
with her) missed not her crucifix: so passed she the
time away, as shee was wont other dayes to doe, no
whit troubled in minde, though much sorrow was toward her; onely shee seemed a little discontented that
her ghest went away so unmannerly, she using him so
kindely. So leaving her, I will speake of him, who
the next morning was betimes at London; and com



202   THE TALE TOLD BY THE FISHWIFE


ming to the inne, hee asked for the gentleman, who
then was in bed, but he quickly rose and came downe
to him, who seeing him return'd so suddenly, he
thought hee came to have leave to release himselfe of
his wager; but this chanced otherwise: for having
saluted him, he said in this manner: Sir, did not I
tell you that you were too yong in experience of
womans subtilties, and that no woman was longer
good then she had cause, or time to doe ill? this you
beleeved not, and thought it a thing so unlikely, that
you have given me a hundred pounds for the knowledge of it. In briefe, know, your wife is a woman,
and therefore a wanton, a changeling: to confirme
that I speake, see heere (shewing him the crucifix)
know you this? if this be not sufficient proofe, I wil
fetch you more.
At the sight of this, his bloud left his face, running
to comfort his faint heart, which was ready to breake
at the sight of this crucifix, which he knew she alwayes
wore next her heart, and therefore he must (as he
thought) goe something neere, which stole so private
a jewell. But remembring himselfe, he cheeres his
spirits, seeing that was sufficient proofe, and he had
wonne the wager, which hee commanded should be
given to him. Thus was the poore gentleman abused,
who went into his chamber, and beeing weary of this
world (seeing where he had put onely his trust, he was
deceived) he was minded to fall upon his sword, and
so end all his miseries at once: but his better genius
perswaded him contrary, and not so (by laying violent
hand on himselfe) to leape into- the Divels mouth.
Thus being in many mindes, but resolving no one
thing, at last he concluded to punish her with death,
which had deceived his trust, and himselfe utterly to
forsake his house and lands, and follow the fortunes
of King Henry. To this intent he called his man, to
whom he said: George, thou knowest I have ever held




OF STANDON-THE-GREE N.


203


thee deare, making more account of thee, then thy
other fellowes, and thou hast often told me that thou
diddest owe thy life to me, which at any time thou
wouldest bee ready to render up to doe me good.
True Sir, (answered his man) I said no more then,
then I will now at any time, whensoever you please,
performe. I beleeve thee, George (replyed he:) but
there is no such need: I onely would have thee doe a
thing for me, in which is no great danger, yet the profit
which thou shalt have thereby shall amount to my
wealth: for the love that thou bearest to me, and for
thy own good, wilt thou do this? Sir (answered
George) more for your love, then any reward, I will
doe it, (and yet money makes many men valiant)
pray tell mee what it is? George (said his master)
this it is, thou must goe home, praying thy mistris to
meete me halfe the way to London; but having her
by the way, in some private place kill her: I meane
as I speake; kill her, I say, this is my command,
which thou hast promised to performe, which if thou
performest not, I vow to kill thee the next time thou
commest in my sight. Now for thy reward it shall be
this: Take my ring, and when thou hast done my
command, by vertue of it, doe thou assume my place
till my returne, at which time thou shalt know what
my reward is, till then govern my whole estate: and
for thy mistris absence, and mine own, make what
excuse thou please: so be gone. Well, Sir (said
George) since it is your will, thou unwilling I am to
doe it, yet I will performe it. So went he his way
toward Waltam, and his master presently rid to the
court, where hee abode with King Henry, who a little
before was inlarged by the Earle of Warwicke, and
placed in the throne againe.
George beeing come to Waltam, did his dutie to
his misttis, who wondred to see him, and not her husband, for whom she demanded of George: he an



204    THE TALE TOLD BY THE FISHWIFE
swered her, that hee was at Enfield, and did request
her to meet him there. To which shee willingly
agreed, and presently rode with him toward Enfield.
At length, they being come into a by-way, George began to speake to her in this manner: Mistris, I pray
you tel me what that wife deserves, who through some
lewd behaviour of hers, hath made her husband to
neglect his estate, and meanes of life, seeking by all
meanes to dye, that he might be free from the shame
which her wickednesse hath purchased him? Why
George (quoth shee) hath thou met with some such
creature? Be it whomsoever, might I be her judge,
I should thinke her worthy of death: how thinkest
thou? Faith, mistris (said he) I thinke so too, and
am so fully perswaded that her offence deserveth that
punishment, that I purpose to bee executioner to such
a one my selfe. Mistris, you are this woman: you
have so offended my master (you know best how your
selfe) that he hath left his house, vowing never to see
the same till you be dead, and I am the man appointed
by him to kill you; therefore, those words which you
meane to utter, speake them presently, for I cannot
stay. Poore gentlewoman, at the report of these
unkinde words (ill deserved at her hands) she looked
as one dead, and uttering aboundance of teares, she
at last spake these words: And can it be, that my
kindnes and loving obedience hath merited no other
reward at his hands then death? It cannot be; I
know thou onely tryest me, how patiently I would endure such an unjust command. I'le tell thee heere,
thus with body prostrate on the earth, and hands lift
up to heaven,-I would pray for his preservation, those
should be my worst words; for deaths fearfull visage
shewes pleasant to that soule that is innocent. Why
then prepare your selfe (said George:) for by heaven
I doe not jest. With that shee prayed him stay, saying, And is it so? then, what should I desire to live,




OF STANDON- THE-GREEN.


205


having lost his favour (and without offence) whom I
so dearely loved, and in whose sight my happinesse
did consist? come, let me die. Yet, George, let mee
have so much favour at thy hands, as to commend
me in these few words to him: Tell him, my death
I willingly imbrace, for I have owed him my life (yet
no otherwise but by a wives obedience) ever since I
call'd him husband; but that I am guilty of the least
fault toward him, I utterly deny, and doe (at this
houre of my death) desire that heaven would powre
down vengeance upon me, if ever I offended him in
thought. Intreat him that he would not speake ought
that were ill on mee, when I am dead, for in good
troth I have deserved none. Pray heaven blesse him.
I am prepared now; strike prethee home, and kill me
and my griefes at once.
George seeing this, could not withhold himselfe
from shedding teares, and with pitie he let fall his sword,
saying: Mistris, that I have used you so roughly,
pray pardon me, for I was commanded so by my
master, who hath vowed, if I let you live, to kill
me; But I being perswaded that you are innocent, I
will rather undergoe the danger of his wrath, then to
staine my hands with the bloud of your cleere and
spotlesse brest: Yet let mee intreat you (so much)
that you would not come in his sight, (lest in his rage
he turne your butcher) but live in some disguise till
time have opened the cause of his mistrust, and shewed
you guiltlesse, which (I hope) will not be long.
To this she willingly granted (being loth to die causelesse) and thanked him for his kindnes; so parted
they both, having teares in their eyes. George went
home, where he shewed his masters ring for the government of the house, till his master and mistris
returne, which he said lived a while at London, 'cause
the time was so troublesome, and that was a place
where they were more secure then in the countrey.




206   THE TALE TOLD BY THE FISHWIFE


This his fellowes beleeved, and were obedient to his
will, amongst whom hee used himselfe so kindely,
that he had all their loves. This poore gentlewoman
(mistris of the house) in short time got mans apparell
for her disguise; so wandred she up and downe the
countrey, for she could get no service, because the
time was so dangerous, that no man knew whom hee
might trust; onely she maintained her selfe with the
price of those jewels which she had, all which she
sold. At the last, being quite out of money, and having nothing left (which she could well spare) to make
money of, she resolved rather to starve, then so much
to debase herselfe to become a begger: with this
resolution she went to a solitary place beside Yorke,
where shee lived the space of two dayes on hearbs,
and such things as she could there finde. In this
time it chanced that King Edward (beeing come out
of France, and lying thereabout with the small forces
hee had) came that way with some two or three
noblemen, with an intent to discover, if any ambushes
were laid to take him at an advantage. He seeing
there this gentlewoman, whom he supposed to be a
boy, asked her what she was, and what she made
there in that private place? To whom shee very
wisely and modestly withall answered, that she was a
poore boy, whose bringing up had bin better then her
outward parts then shewed, but at that time she was
both friendlesse, and comfortlesse, by reason of the
late warre. He being moved, to see one so well
featur'd (as she was) to want, entertained her for one
of his pages, to whom she shewed her selfe so dutifull,
and loving, that (in short time) shee had his love
above all her fellows. Still followed she the fortunes
of King Edward, hoping at last (as not long after it
did fall out) to be reconciled to her husband. After
the battell at Barnet (where King Edward got the best)
she going up and downe amongst the slaine men (to




OF STANDON-THE-GiEEN.


207


know whether her husband, whichwas on King Henries
side, were dead or escaped) happened to see the
other, who had been her ghest, lying there for dead:
she remembring him, and thinking him to be one whom
her husband loved, went to him, and finding him not
dead, she caused one to helpe her with him to a house
there-by: where opening of his brest, to dresse his
wounds, she espied her crucifix; at sight of which
her heart was joyfull, (hoping by this to find him that
was the originall of her disgrace) for she remembring
her selfe, found that she had lost that crucifix ever
since that morning he departed from her house
so suddenly. But saying nothing of it at that time,
she caused him to be carefully looked unto, and
brought up to London after her, whither she went
with the king, carrying the crucifix with her. On a
time, when hee was a little recovered, shee went to
him, giving him the crucifix, which shee had taken
from about his necke: to whom hee said, Good
gentle youth, keep the same; for now in my misery
of sicknes, when the sight of that picture should be
most comfortable, it is to me most uncomfortable,
and breedeth such horrour in my conscience (when I
think how wrongfully I got the same), that so long
as I see it, I shall never be in rest. Now knew she
that he was the man that caused the separation twixt
her husband and her selfe; yet said shee nothing,
using him as respectively as she had before; only she
caused the man, in whose house he lay, to remember
the words he had spoken concerning the crucifix.
Not long after, she being alone, attending on the
king, beseeched his grace to doe her justice on a
villain that had bin the cause of all the misery she
had suffered. He loving her (above all his other
pages) most dearely, said: Edmund (for so had she
named her selfe), thou shalt have what right thou
wilt on thy enemy; cause him to be sent for, and I




208   THE TALE TOLD BY THE FISHWIFE


will be thy judge myselfe. She being glad of this
(with the kings authority) sent for her husband, whom
she heard was one of the prisoners that was taken at
the battell of Barnet, she appointing the other, now
recovered, to be at the court at the same time. They
being both come (but not one seeing of the other),
the king sent for the wounded man into the presence;
before whom the page asked him, how he came by
the crucifix? He, fearing that his villany would come
forth, denyed the words hee had said before his oast,
affirming he bought it. With that she called in the
oast of the house where he lay, bidding him boldly
speake what he had heard this man say, concerning
the crucifix. The oast then told the king, that in the
presence of this page, he heard him intreat that the
crucifix might be taken from his sight, for it did
wound his conscience, to thinke how wrongfully he
had gotten the same. These words did the page
averre; yet he utterly denyed the same, affirming that
he bought it, and that if he did speake such words in
his sicknesse, they proceeded from the lightnesse of
his braine, and were untruthes.
She, seeing this villains impudency, sent for her
husband in, to whom she shewed the crucifix, saying,
Sir, doe you know, doe you know this?-Yes, answered hee: but would God I ne're had knowne the
owner of it!-It was my wives, a woman vertuous, till
this divell (speaking to the other) did corrupt her
purity, who brought me this crucifix as a token of her
inconstancie.
With that the king said, Sirra, now you are found
to be a knave; did you not even now affirme that you
bought it? To whom he answered (with fearefull
countenance), And it like your grace, I said so, to
preserve this gentlemans honour, and his wives,
which by my telling of the truth would have
beene much indamag'd; for indeed she being a




OF S TA NDONM- THE-GREEN,


209


secret friend of mine, gave me this, as a testimony of
her love.
The gentlewoman, not being able longer to cover
her selfe in that disguise, said, And it like your
majesty, give mee leave to speake, and you shall see
me make this villaine confesse, how hee hath abused
that good gentleman. The king having given her
leave, she said: First, Sir, you confessed before your
oast, and my selfe, that you had wrongfully got this
jewell: then, before his majestie you affirmed you
bought it, so denying your former words: now you
have denyed, that which you so boldly affirmed before, and have said it was this gentlemans wives gift.
(With his majesties leave) I say thou art a villaine,
and this is likewise false: (with that she discovered
her selfe to be a woman, saying), Hadst thou (villaine)
ever any strumpets favour at my hands? Did I (for
any sinfull pleasure I received from thee) bestow this
on thee? Speake, and if thou have any goodnes left
in thee, speake the truth.
With that he being daunted at her sudden sight,
fell on his knees before the king, beseeching his grace
to be mercifull unto him, for he had wronged that
gentlewoman: therewith told he the king of the
match betweene the gentleman and himselfe, and
how he stole the crucifix from her, and by that
meanes, perswaded her husband that she was a whore.
The king wondred how hee durst (knowing God to
bee just) commit so great villany, but much more admired he, to see his page to turn a gentlewoman; but
ceasing to admire, he said: Sir, (speaking to her husband) you did the part of an unwise man, to lay so
foolish a wager, for which offence the remembrance
of your folly is punishment inough; but seeing it
concernes me not, your wife shall be your judge.
With that mistris Dorrill (thanking his majestie) went
to her husband, saying, All my anger to you I lay
VOL, II.                               0




210 TALE OF THE FISHWIFE OF STANDON-GREEE.
downe with this kisse. He wondring all this while to
see this strange and unlooked for change, wept for
joy, desiring her to tell him how she was preserved,
wherein she satisfied him at full. The king was likewise glad that hee had preserved this gentlewoman
from wilfull famine, and gave judgment on the other
in this manner:-That he should restore the money
treble which he had wrongfully got from him: and
so was to have a yeeres imprisonment. So, this
gentleman and his wife went (with the kings leave)
lovingly home, where they were kindely welcomed by
George, to whom for recompence hee gave the
money which he received. So lived they ever after
in great content.




HAMLET PRINCE OF DENMARK.




IN re-publishing once more the old English version of the
story of the Danish prince from the collection of Belleforest, the
present editor defers to Mr Collier's precedent, his own suspicion
being that, even if the prose "History of Hamlet" was originally in print before 1603-of which there appears to be no
proof-Shakespeare resorted to the earlier drama on the subject,
and made the piece what it is out of the inexhaustible resources
of his own marvellous mind.
One of the most curious contemporary notices we possess of this
play is that cited by Douce (" Illustr.," ii. 265-6) from Scoloker's
"Diaphantus," i604.




MR COLLIER'S IN7RODUCTION.


-0
THE only known copy of the following novel is preserved among Capell's books, at Cambridge, and
bears date in  608: it was printed by Richard Bradocke, for Thomas Pavier, a well-known stationer of
that time. There can be little doubt that it had
originally come from the press considerably before the
commencement of the seventeenth century, although
the multiplicity of readers of productions of the kind,
and the carelessness with which such books were regarded after perusal, has led to the destruction, as far
as can now be ascertained, of every earlier copy.
That which we have used for our re-impression, of a
considerably later date, has alone escaped. Should
any accident unluckily befall that interesting and valuable relic, the misfortune could never be repaired:
and it seems almost a matter of duty, therefore, to reprint such productions, that they may not at any
future time be utterly lost.
That a play upon the story of Hamlet had been
written some years before 1590, we have every reason
to believe. Robert Greene (according to Mr Dyce,
whom it is generally safe to follow, especially on
questions of date) published his "Menaphon" in
I589,1 prefixing to it an Epistle by Thomas Nash, in
I [In the former edition, it stood 1587; but the volume was
not licensed till I589. See Nash's Epistle printed in extenso in
Mr Huth's "Prefaces," &c., 1874, p. 82, et seq.




214


INTR OD UC TION.


which he alludes to a tragedy of that name; and on
the 9th June I594, Henslowe registers in his MS.
Diary, preserved at Dulwich College, that " Hamlet"
was performed by his company, while acting at Newington Butts, apparently, in conjunction with the
association to which Shakespeare belonged: it was
then an old play, and produced him only eight shillings as his share of the receipts; though, when new
pieces were represented, his proportion at the same
period was usually more than three pounds. Malone
confidently, though conjecturally, assigned the " Hamlet," spoken of by Nash and mentioned by Henslowe, to Thomas Kyd: it is often alluded to by contemporaries, and there is not a moment's doubt that
it was written and acted many years before Shakespeare's tragedy of the same name was produced. It
is probable that Kyd's play (supposing it to be his)
was founded upon the novel under consideration,
which, therefore, must have been originally printed
before 1589, and that, to a certain extent, our great
Dramatist availed himself both of the old drama and
of the still older " History."
The earliest known edition of Shakespeare's " Hamlet" is dated I603, and it was printed for Nicholas
Ling, who was interested in the second quarto of
I604, which was long indeed looked upon as the
first edition. From a careful comparison of the two,
it seems nearly certain that the copy of i603 was
printed from MS. taken down in short-hand from the
players' mouths, as the dialogue was delivered on the
stage; and the additional lines there found were, for
some reason, omitted in the more authentic edition
published in the succeeding year.  We are well
satisfied that the "Hamlet" of I603 was not Shakespeare's first draught of the tragedy, which he enlarged
and improved as it appeared in I604.
It will be found that the Tragedy varies in many im



INTRODUCTION.,


215


portant particulars from the Novel, especially towards
the conclusion; that nearly the whole conduct of the
story is different; that the catastrophe is totally dissimilar, and that the character of the hero in the prose
narrative is utterly degraded below the rank he is entitled to take in the commencement. The murder of
Hamlet's father, the marriage of his mother with the
murderer, Hamlet's pretended madness, his interview
with his mother, and his voyage to England, are nearly
the only points in common. We thus are able to see
how far Shakespeare followed the "History;" but we
shall probably never be able to ascertain to what extent he made use of the antecedent play.
The prose narrative of I6o8 is a bald, literal, and
in many respects uncouth, translation from the " Histoires Tragiques" of Belleforest,' who was himself by
no means an elegant writer for the time in which he
lived: he began publishing his series of translations
from Bandello in 1559, and his story of "Amleth" was
of course copied from Bandello. Belleforest gives it
the following title:-" Avec quelle ruse Amleth, qui
depuis fut Roy de Dannemarch, vengea la mort de
son pere Horvvendile, occis par Fengon, son frere, et
autre occurrence de son histoire."  The English translator, especially in the descriptive portion of his work,
has multiplied all the faults of Belleforest, including
his lengthened and involved periods, and his frequent
confusion of persons. It may be suspected that one or
two of the longer speeches, and particularly the Oration of Hamlet, occupying nearly the whole of Chapter VI., was by another and a better hand, who had
a more complete knowledge of the French, and a
happier use of his own language.
I See the fifth edition of Brunet v. Bandello.  Belleforest
translated the novels from the Italian in conjunction with Boaistuau, and it was the portion executed by the latter which appeared first in 1559.




2i6


INTR OD UC TION.


We need not have much hesitation in believing that
the oldest copy (perhaps printed about the year 585)
was sufficiently corrupt in its readings; but the corruptions increased with the re-impressions, and a few
portions of the edition of I6o8 seem almost to defy
correction. Some passages might be rendered more
intelligible, such as "distill a field of tears," instead
of "distill a flood of tears"-" deface his desire of
revenge," instead of " deferre his desire of revenge"
-" she thought fit for no men but herself," instead
of " she thought fit for no one but herself"-" desired
she to see,"Linstead of " desired her to see "-" without and any faithfull assurance," instead of "' without
any faithfull assurance," &c.; but it was thought best
to present the curious relic, as nearly as it could be
done, in the shape and state in which it issued from
the press quite two centuries and a half ago. For
this reason it has not been considered right to make
the orthography of the name of the hero uniform:
sometimes he is called Hamblet (as, no doubt, it stood
in the first impression), and at other times Hamlet, as
we have every reason to suppose it was altered in the
old play, and as we find it in Shakespeare.
All the introductory matter to the ensuing pages is
by Belleforest, the translator having deemed it necessary to preserve the French " Argument," and to convert some preliminary observations into what he terms
a " Preface."




THE


H Y STOR I E
OF HAMBLET.
LONDON:
Imprinted by Richard Bra docke, for Thomas Pauier,
and are to be sold at his shop in Corne-hill, neere to
the Royall Exchange.
i 6o8.




THE ARGUMENT.


IT is not at this present, neither yet a small time since,
that enuy raigning in the worlde; hath in such sort
blinded men, that without respect of consanguinitie,
friendship, or fauour whatsoeuer, they forget themselues so much; as that they spared not to defile
their hands with the blood of those men, who by all
law and right they ought chiefly to defend and cherish.
For what other impression was it, that entered into
Romulus heart, when under pretence of I know not
what lawe, he defiled his hands with the blood of his
owne brother, but the abhominable vice of desire to
raigne? which if in all the accurrences, prosperities,
and circumstances thereof, it were well wayed and
considered, I know not any man that had not rather
liue at his ease, and priuately without charge, then
being feared and honored of all men; to beare all the
charge and burden vpon his shoulders; to serue and
please the fantasies of the common people; to liue
continually in feare, & to see himself exposed to a
thousand occasions of danger; and most commonly
assailed and spoiled, when hee thinkes verily to hold
Fortune as slaue to his fantasies & will: & yet buyes
such and so great misery, for the vaine & fraile pleasures of this world, with the losse of his owne soule:
making so large a measure of his conscience, that it is




ARGUMENT.


219


not once mooued at any murther, treason, deceit, nor
wickedness whatsoeuer he committed, so the way may
be opened and made plaine vnto him, whereby hee
may attaine to that miserable filicitie, to command
and gouerne a multitude of men (as I said of Romulus)
who by a most abhominable action, prepared himselfe
a way to heauen (but not by vertue.)
The ambitious and seditious Orator of Rome, supposed the degrees and steps to heaven, & the wayes
to vertue, to consist in the treasons, rauishments,
& massacres committed by him, that first layd the
foundations of that citty.  And not to leaue the
bystories of Rome; what, I pray you incited Ancius
Martinus, to massacre Tarquin the Elder, but the
desire of raigning, as a king: who before had bin the
onely man to moue and solicite the saide Tarquinius,
to bereaue the right heires and inheriters thereof?
What caused Tarquinius the Proud, traiterously to
imbrue his hands in the blood of Servius Tullius, his
father in law, but onely that fumish and unbridled
desire, to be commander ouer the cittie of Rome?
which practise neuer ceased nor discontinued, in the
said principal cittie of the empire, as long as it was
gouerned by the greatest & wisest personages, chosen
and elected by the people: for therein haue beene
seen infinite numbers of seditions, troubles, pledges,
ransommings, confiscations and massacres, onely proceeding from this ground and principle: which entereth into mens hearts, & maketh them couet and
desirous to be heads and rulers of a whole common
wealth. And after the people were depriued of that
libertie of Election, and that the Empire became subiect to the pleasure & fantasie of one man, commanding al the rest, I pray you peruse their bookes, and
read diligently their Hystories; and do but looke into
the meanes vsed by the most part of their kings and
Emperours, to attaine to such power and authoritie:




220


ARGUMENT.


and you shall see how poysons, massacres, and secret
murthers, were the meanes to push them forwards,
that durst not openly attempt it, or else could not
compasse to make open warres. And for that the
Hystory (which I pretend to shew vnto you) is chiefly
grounded vpon treason, committed by one brother
against the other; I will not erre far out of the matter:
thereby desiring to shew you, that it is and hath been
a thing long since practised and put in vse by men,
to spill the blood of their neerest kinsmen and
friends, to attaine to the honour of being great and in
authoritie, and that there hath bin some, that being
impatient of staying till their iust time of succession, haue hastened the death of their owne parents;
as Absolon would haue done to the holy king Dauid
his father: and as wee read of Domitian, that poysoned
his brother Titus, the most curtious and liberall Prince
that euer swayed the empire of Rome. And God
knowes we haue many the like examples in this our
time, where the sonne conspired against the father:
for that Sultan Zelin, Emperour of Turkes, was so
honest a man, that fearing Baiazeth his father, would
die of his naturall death, and that thereby he should
haue stayd too long for the Empire, bereaued him of
his life: and Sultan Soliman his successor, although
he attempted not any thing against his father, yet
being mooued with a certaine feare to bee deposed
from his Emperie, & bearing a hatred to Mustapha
his son (incited therunto by Rustain Bassa whom the
Iewes enemies to the yong prince, had by gifts procured thereunto) caused him to be strangled with a
bowe stringe, without hearing him (that neuer had
offended his father) once speake to iustifie his innocencie. But let vs leave the Turkes like barbarians
as they are, whose throne is ordinarily established by
the effusion of the blood of those that are neerest of
kindred and consanguinitie to the Empire, & consider




ARGUMENT.                221
what Tragedies haue bin plaid to the like effect, in the
memorie of our Ancestors, and with what charitie and
love the neerest kindreds and friendes among them
haue bin intertained; one of the other, if you had not
the Hystories extant before you, if the memorie were
not in a manner fresh, & known almost to euery
man, I would make a long discourse thereof: but
things being so cleare and euident, the truth so much
discouered, & the people almost as it were glutted
with such treasons, I will omit them & follow my
matter, to shew you; that if the iniquitie of a brother,
caused his brother to loose his life, yet that vengeance
was not long delayed: to the end that traitors may
know, although the punishment of their trespasses
committed, be stayed for awhile, yet that they may
assure themselues, that without all doubt, they shal
neuer escape the puisant and revenging hand of God:
who being slow to anger, yet in the ende doth not
faile to shew some signes and euident tokens of his
fearefull iudgement, vpon such as forgetting their
duties, shed innocent blood, and betray their Rulers,
whom they ought chiefly to honour, serue, and reuerence.




THE PREFACE.


-o 0
ALTHOUGH in the beginning of this Hystorie, I had
determined not to haue troubled with any other
matter, than a Hystorie of our owne time, hauing
sufficient tragicall matter to satisfie the minds of men:
but because I cannot wel discourse thereof, without
touching many personages, whom I would not willingly displease; and partly because the Argument
that I haue in hand, seemed vnto me a thing worthy
to bee offered to our French nobilitie for the great &
gallant accurrences therein set downe: I haue somewhat strayed from my course, as touching the Tragedies
of this our age: and, starting out of France and ouer
Neitherlanders countries, I haue ventured to visit the
Hystories of Denmarke, that it may serue for an example of vertue and contentment to our Nation
(whom I specially seeke to please), and for whose
satisfaction, I haue not left any flower whatsoeuer
vntasted, from whence I haue not drawne the most
perfect and delicate hony, thereby to bind them to
my diligence herein: not caring for the ingratitude of
the time present, that leaueth (and as it were reiecteth) without recompence, such as serue the Common-wealth, and by their trauell and diligence honour
their countrey, and illustrate the Realme of France;
so that often times the fault proceedeth rather from
them, then from the great personages that haue other
affaires which withdraw them from things that seeme




PREFACE.                223
of small consequence. Withall, esteeming my selfe
more then satisfied in this contentment and freedomE
which I now enioy, being loued of the Nobilitie, for
whom I trauell without grudging; fauoured of men
of learning & knowledge, for admiring & reuerencing
them according to their worthinesse, and honoured of
the common people, of whom although I craue not
their iudgement, as not esteeming them of abilitie, to
eternize the name of a worthy man, yet I account my
selfe sufficiently happy to haue attained to this felicitie,
that fewe or no men refuse, or disdaine to reade my
workes, many admiring and wondering thereat: as
there are some, that prouoked by enuie, blame and
condemne it. To whom I confesse my selfe much
bound and beholding, for by that their meanes, I am
the more vigelant, and so by my trauell much more
beloued and honored then euer I was: which to mee
is the greatest pleasure that I can inioy, and the most
abundant treasures in my coffers, wherewith I am
more satisfied and contented, then (if without comparison) I enioyed the greatest treasures in all Asia.
Now returning to our matter, let vs beginne to declare the Hystorie.




The Hystorie of Hamblet
Prince of Denmarke.
CHAPTER       I.
How Horuendile and Eengon were made Gouernours of
the Prouince of Ditmarse, and how z oruendile
marryed Geruth, the daughter to Roderick, chief
K. of Denmark: by whom he had Hamblet: and
how after his marriage his brother Fengon slewe
him trayterously, and marryed his brothers wife,
and what followed.
yOU must vnderstand, that long time before the
Kingdome of Denmark receiued the faith of
The Danes Iesus Christ, and imbraced the doctrin of the Christians,
inaribepast that the common people in those dayes were barbarous
and vnciuil. & vncivill, and their Princes cruell, without faith or
loyaltie: seeking nothing but murther, and deposing
The cruel- (or at the least) offending each other; either in
tie of the
Daness  honours, goods, or lives: not caring to ransome such
as they tooke prisoners, but rather sacrificing them to
the cruell vengeance, naturally imprinted in their
hearts; in such sort, that if ther were sometimes a
good prince, or king among them, who beeing adorned




THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET.


225


with the most perfect gifts of nature, would adict himselfe to vertue, and vse courtesie, although the people #
held him in admiration (as vertue is admirable to the
most wicked) yet the envie of his neighbors was so
great, that they never ceased untill that vertuous man,
were dispatched out of the world. King Rodericke, Rodericke
as then raigning in Denmarke, after hee had appeased kMnf.en."'
the troubles in the countrey, and driuen the Sweathlanders and Slaueans from thence, he diuided the
kingdom into diuers Prouinces, placing Governours
therein: who after (as the like happened in France)
bare the names of Dukes, Marqueses, & Earls, giuing
the government of Jutie (at this present called Dit- Jutieatthis
marsse) lying vpon the countrey of Cimbrians, in the tIh'e Dil
straight or narrow part of land, that sheweth like a".....
point or cape of ground vpon the sea, which neithward bordereth vpon the countrey of Norway. Two
valiant & warlike Lords, Horuendile and Fengon,
sonnes to Geruendile, who likewise had beene gouernour
of that Prouince. Now the greatest honor that men
of noble birth could at that time win and obtaine, was
in exercising the art of Piracie vpon the seas; assayling their neighbours, & the countries bordering upon
them: and how much the more they vsed to rob, pill,
and spoyle other Prouinces, and Ilands farre adjacent,
so much the more their honours and reputation increased and augmented: wherein Horuendile obtained Horueldile
the highest place in his time, beeing the most renouned rPirid a
pirate that in those dayes scoured the seas, & hauens
of the North parts: whose great fame, so mooued the
heart of Collere, king of Norway, that he was much Collereking
grieued to heare that Horvendile surmounting him in of Norway.
feates of armes, thereby obscuring the glory by him
alreadie obtained vpon the seas: (honor more than
couetousnesse of richer, (in those dayes) being the
reason that prouoked those barbarian princes, to ouerthrow and vanquish one the other; not caring to be
VOL. II.                              P




226


THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,


slaine by the handes of a victorious person. This
valiant and hardy king, hauing challenged Horuendile
to fight with him body to body, the combate was by
him accepted, with conditions, that hee which should be
vanquished, should loose all the riches he had in his
ship, and that the vanquisher should cause the body
of the vanquished (that should bee slaine in the
combate) to be honourably buried, death being the
prise and reward of him that should loose the
battaile: and to conclude, Collere, king of Norway
(although a valiant, hardy, and couragious prince) was
I.oruendile in the end vanquished and slaine by Horuendile: who
slew Collre presently caused a Tombe to be erected, and therein
(with all honorable obseques fit for a prince) buried
the body of king Collere, according to their auncient
manner, and superstitions in those dayes, and the
conditions of the combate, bereauing the Kings
shippes of all their riches, and hauing slaine the
kings sister, a very braue and valiant warriour, and
ouerrunne all the coast of Norway, and the Northren
Ilands, returned home againe layden with much
treasure, sending the most part thereof to his soueraigne, king Rodericke, thereby to procure his good
liking, and so to be accounted one of the greatest
fauourites about his maiestie.
The King allured by those presents, and esteeming
himselfe happy to haue so valiant a subiect, sought
by a great fauour and coutesie, to make him become
Hamlet bounden vnto him perpetually, giuing him Geruth his.orendile. daughter to his wife, of whom he knew Horvendile to
bee already much inamored: and the more to honor
him, determined himselfe in person to conduct her
into Jutie, where the marriage was celebrated according to the ancient manner: and to be briefe, of this
marriage proceeded Hamblet, of whom I intend to
speake, and for his cause haue chosen to renew this
present Hystorie.




PRINCE OF DENMfARKE.


227


Fengon brother to this Prince Horuendile, who
[not] I onely fretting and despighting in his heart at
the great honor and reputation wonne by his brother Fengon.his
in warlike affaires, but solicited and prouoked (by aagSnst his
foolish jelousie) to see, him honored with royallbr~ther'
aliance, and fearing thereby to bee deposed from his
part of the gouernment: or rather desiring to be
onely Gouernor: thereby to obscure the memorie of
the victories and conquests of his brother Horuendile;
determined (whatsoeuer happened) to kill him. JWhich
hee effected in such sort, that no man once so much
as suspected him, euery man esteeming that from  f
such and so firme a knot of alliance and consanguinitie, there could proceed no other issue than the
full effects of vertue and courtesie: but (as I sayd
before) the desire of bearing soueraigne, rule and
authoritie, respecteth neither blood nor amitie, nor
caring for vertue as being wholly without respect of
lawes, or maiestie diuine: for it is not possible that
hee which inuadeth the countrey & taketh away the
riches of an other man without cause or reason, should
know, or feare God.  Was not this a craftie and
subtile Counsellor? but he might haue thought that
the mother, knowing her husbands case, would not
cast her sonne into the danger of death. But Fengon,
hauing secretly assembled certain men, & perceiuing
himself strong enough to execute his interprise,
Horuendile, his brother being at a banquet with his
friends, sodainely set vpon him, where he slewe him Fen.on
as traiterously, as cunningly he purged himselfe of so:kiethis
detestable a murther to his subiects: for that before
he had any violent or bloody handes, or once committed parricide vpon his brother, hee had incestuously abused his wife, whose honour hee ought as
well to haue sought and procured, as traiterously he
] [Aot not in the text.]




228


THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,


pursued and effected his destruction: and it is most
certaine, that the man that abandoneth himselfe to
any notorious and wicked action, whereby he becommeth a great sinner, hee careth not to commit
much more haynous and abhominable offences, &
couered his boldnesse and wicked practise with so
great subtiltie and policie, and vnder a vaile of meere
simplicitie, that beeing fauoured for the honest loue
that hee bare to his sister in lawe, for whose sake hee
affirmed, he had in that sort murthered his brother,
that his sinne found excuse among the common
people, & of the Nobilitie was esteemed for iustice:
for that Geruth being as courteous a princesse, as any
then liuing in the North parts, and one that had
neuer once so much as offended any of her subiects,
either commons or Courtyers; this adulterer and
infamous murtherer, slaundered his dead brother,
that hee would have slaine his wife, and that hee by
chance finding him vpon the point ready to doe it,
in defence of the Lady had slaine him, bearing off
the blows which as then hee strooke at the innocent
Princesse, without any other cause of malice whatsoeuer: wherein hee wanted no false witnesses to
approoue his act, which deposed in like sort, as the
wicked calumniator himselfe protested, being the
same persons that had' born him company, & were
participants of his treason, so that instead of pursuing
Slanderers him as a paricide & an incestuous person, al the
more honoured in Courtyers admired and flattered him in his good
court then
vertuous fortune: making more account of false witnesses and
pe.  detestable wicked reporters, and more honouring the
calumniators, then they esteemed of those that seeking to call the matter in question, and admiring the
vertues of the murthered Prince, would haue punished
The incestu- the massacrers and bereauers of his life. Which was
ofFengone the cause that Fengon, boldned and incouraged by
therswi. such impunitie, durst venture to couple himselfe in
t.iers.wife. such impunitie, durst venture to couple himselfe in




PRINCE OF DENMARKE.


229


marriage with her, whom hee vsed as his Concubine
(luring good Horuendiles life, in that sort spotting
his name with a double vice, and charging his conscience with abhominable guilt, and two fold impietie,
as incestuous adulterie, and parricide murther: and that
the vnfortunate and wicked woman, that had receaued
the honour to bee the wife of one of the valiantest
and wisest Princes in the North, imbased her selfe in
such vile sort, as to falsifie her faith vnto him, and
which is worse, to marrie him, that had bin the
tyranous murtherer of her lawfull husband: which
made diuers men thinke, that she had beene the
causer of the murther, thereby to liue in her adultery
without controle. But where shall a man finde a
more wicked & bold woman, then a great personage,
once hauing loosed the bands of honor and honestie:
This Princesse who at the first, for her rare vertues and
courtesies was honored of al men, and beloued of her
husband, as soone as she once gaue eare to the
tyrant Fengon, forgot both the ranke she helde
among the greatest dames, and the dutie of an
honest wife on her behalfe. But I will not stand to
gaze and meruaile at women: for that there are many
which seeke to blase and set them foorth: in which
their writings, they spare not to blame them all for the
faults of some one, or fewe women. But I say, that
either Nature ought to haue bereaued man of that
opinion to accompany with women, or els to endow
them with such spirits, as that they may easily support
the crosses they endure, without complaining so often
and so strangely, seeing it is their owne beastlinesse Ifamanbe
that ouerthrowes them.  For if it be so, that a de^eued by
woman is so imperfect a creature, as they make her to hshis owne
be: and that they know this beast, to bee so hard to
bee tamed as they affirme: why then are they so
foolish to preserue them, and so dull and brutish as
to trust their deceitfull and wanton imbraceings.




230


THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,


But let us leaue her in this extreamitie of laciuiousnesse, and proceed to shewe you, in what sort the
yong Prince Hamlet behaued himselfe, to escape the
tyranny of his vncle.
CHAPTER II.
How Hamblet counterfeited the mad man, to escape the
tyrannie of his vncle, and how he was tempted by
a woman (through his vncles procurement) who
thereby thought to vndermine the Prince, and by
that meanes to finde out whether he counterfeited
madnesse or not: and how Hamblet would by no
meanes bee brought to consent vnto her; and what
followed.
GERVTH hauing (as I sayd before) so much forgotten
herself, the Prince Hamblet perceiuing him selfe to
bee in danger of his life, as beeing abandoned of his
owne mother, and forsaken of all men; and assuring
himselfe that Fengon would not detract the time, to
send him the same way his father Horuendile was
gone: to beguile the tyrant in his subtilties (that
esteemed him to bee of such a minde, that if he once
attained to mans estate, he wold not long delay ye
time to reuenge the death of his father) counterfeiting the mad man with such craft & subtill practises,
that hee made shewe as if hee had vtterly lost his
wittes: and vnder that vayle hee couered his pretence, and defended his life from the treasons and
practises of the tyrant his vncle. And all though hee
had beene at the schoole of the Romane Prince, who
because hee counterfeited himselfe to bee a foole,
was called Brutus: yet hee imitated his fashions, and
his wisedom. For euery day beeing in the Queenes
Palace (who as then was more carefull to please her
whoremaster, then ready to reuenge the cruell death
of her husband, or to restore her sonne to his inherit



PRINCE OF DENMARKE.


231


ance) hee rent and tore his clothes, wallowing and
lying in the durt and mire, his face all filthy and
blacke, running through the streets like a man distraught, not speaking one worde, but such as seemed
to proceede from madnesse, and meere frenzie, all his
actions and iestures beeing no other, then the right
countenances of a man wholly depriued of all reason
and vnderstanding: in such sort, that as then hee
seemed fitte for nothing, but to make sport to the
Pages and ruffling Courtiers, that attended in the court
of his vncle and father in law. But the yong Prince
noted them well enough, minding one day to bee
reuenged in such manner, that the memorie thereof
should remaine perpetually to the world.
Beholde, I pray you, a great point of a wise, and
braue spirite in a yong Prince, by so great a shewe of
imperfection in his person for aduancement, and his
owne imbasing and despising, to worke the meanes
and to prepare the way for himselfe to bee one of
the happiest Kings in his age. In like sort, neuer
any man was reputed by any of his actions more wise
and prudent then Brutus, dissembling a great altera- Brutus,.
tion in his minde, for that the occasion of such his mcodtSer
deuise of foolishnesse, proceeded onely of a good foe,.h Rea
and mature counsell and deliberation; not onely to and Hlic^i
preserue his goods, and shunne the rage of the proude na.us.
Tyrant, but also to open a large way to procure the
banishment and vtter ruine of wicked Tarquinius, and
to infranchise the people (which were before oppressed) from the yoake of a great and miserable
seruitude. And so not onely Brutus, but this man
and worthy prince, to whom wee may also adde King
David, that counterfeited the madde man among the Dauidcounpetie kings of Palestina, to preserue his life trom the teadstlen
subtill practises of those kings. I shew this example, be'fe king
vnto such as beeing offended with any great personage, haue not sufficient meanes to preuaile in their




232       THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,
intents, or reuenge the iniurie by them receiued: but
when I speake of reuenging any iniury receiued, vpon
a great personage, or superior: it must be vnderstood
Rom. 8 21. by such an one as is not our soueraigne, againste
whome wee maie by no meanes resiste, nor once practise anie Treason nor conspiracie against his life:
and hee that will followe this course, must speake
and doe all things whatsoeuer that are pleasing and
acceptable to him whom hee meaneth to deceiue,
practise his actions, and esteeme him aboue all men,
cleane contrarye to his owne intent and meaning;
for that is rightly to playe and counterfeite the foole,
when a man is constrained to dissemble, and kisse
his hand, whome in hearte hee could wishe an hundred foote depth vnder the earth, so hee mighte neuer
see him more: if it were not a thing wholly to bee disliked in a christian, who by no meanes ought to haue
a bitter gall, or desires infected with reuenge. Hamblet in this sorte counterfeiting the madde man, many
times did diuers actions of great and deepe consideration, and often made such and so fitte answeres, that
a wise man would haue iudged from what spirite so
fine an inuention might proceede; for that standing
by the fire and sharpning sticks like poynards and
prickes, one in smiling manner asked him wherefore
he made those little staues so sharpe at the points, I
A subtill prepare (saith he) piersing dartes, and sharpe arrowes,
Prince' Hafn to reuenge my fathers death, fooles as I said before,
let.   esteemed those his words as nothing; but men of
quicke spirits, and such as hadde a deeper reache
began to suspect somewhat, esteeming that vnder that
kinde of folly there lay hidden a great and rare
subtilty, such as one day might bee preiudiciall to
their prince, saying that vnder colour of such rudenes he shadowed a crafty pollicy, and by his devised
simplicitye, he concealed a sharp and pregnant spirit,
for which cause they counselled the king to try &
know if it were possible, how to discouer ye intent




PRINCE OF DENMARKE.


233


& meaning of ye yong prince, & they could find no
better, nor more fit inuention to intrap him, then to
set some faire, and beawtifull woman in a secret place,
that with flattering speeches and all the craftiest
meanes she could vse, should purposely seek to allure
his mind to haue his pleasure of her: for the nature
of all young men (specially such as are brought vp
wantonlie) is so transported with the desires of the Nature corflesh, and entreth so greedily into the pleasures iP,'e'
therof, that it is almost impossible to couer the foul
affection neither yet to dissemble or hyde the same
by art or industry, much lesse to shunne it. What
cunning or subtilty so euer they vse to cloak theire
pretence, seeing occasion offered, and that in secret,
specially in the most inticing sinne that rayneth in
man, they cannot chuse (being constrayned by voluptuousnesse), but fall to naturall effect and working.
To this end certaine courtiers were appointed to Subtilties
leade Hamblet into a solitary place within the woods, csor Hamwhether they brought the woman, inciting him to take lets mad
their pleasures together, and to imbrace one another,
but ye subtill practise vsed in these our daies, not to
try if men of great account bee extract out of their
wits, but rather to depriue them of strength, vertue, Corrupters
and wisedome, by meanes of such deuilish practi-tl.en.in
tioners, and intefernall spirits, their domestical ser- courtsand
uants, and ministers of corruption: and surely the oeuss.
poore prince at this assault had bin in great danger, if
a gentleman (that in Horuendiles time had bin nourished with him) had not showne himselfe more affectioned to the bringing vp he had receiued with
Harblet, then desirous to please the Tirant, who by
all meanes sought to intangle the sonne in the same
nets wherein the father had ended his dayes. This
gentleman bare the courtiers (appointed as aforesaide
of this treason) company, more desiring to giue the
prince instructions what he should do, then to intrap
him making full account that the least showe of per



234


THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,


feet sence and wisedome that Hamblet should make,
would be sufficient to cause him to loose his life: and
therfore by certaine signes, he gaue Hamblet intelligence, in what danger hee was like to fall if by any
meanes hee seemed to obaye, or once like the wanton
toyes, & vicious prouocations of the gentle woman,
sent thither by his Uncle: which much abashed the
prince, as then wholy beeing in affection to the Lady,
but by her he was likewise informed of the treason,
| as being one that from her infancy loued and fauoured
him, and would haue been exceeding sorrowfull for
his misfortune, and much more to leaue his conmpanie without inioying the pleasure of his body, whome
shee loued more than her selfe. The Prince in this
sort having both deceiued the courtiers, and the
Ladyes expectation, that affirmed and swoore that
hee neuer once offered to haue his pleasure of the
woman, although in subtilty hee affirmed the contrary: euery man there vpon assured themselues
that without all doubt hee was distraught of his
sences, that his braynes were as then wholly void of
force, and incapable of reasonable apprehension, so
that as then Fengons practise took no effect: but for
al that he left not off: still seeking by al meanes to
finde out Hamblets subtilty: as in the next chapter
you shall perceiue.
CHAPTER III.
How Fengon, vncle to Hamblet, a second time to intrai
him in his pollitick madnes: caused one of his counsellors to be secretly hidden in the Queenes chamber:
behind the arras, to heare what speeches past betweene Hamblet and the Queen and how Bamblet
killed him, and escaped that danger and what followed.
AMONG the friends of Fengon, there was one that




PRINCE OF DENMfARKSE.


235


aboue al the rest, doubted of Hamblets practises, in
counterfeiting the madman, who for that cause said,
that it was impossible that so craftie a gallant as
Hamblet that counterfeited the foole, should be dis- Another
couered with so common & vnskilfull practises, which to decei le
might easily bee percieued, and that to finde out his Hamblet
politique pretence it were necessary to inuent some
subtill and crafty meanes, more attractiue, whereby
the gallant might not haue the leysure to vse his
accustomed dissimulation, which to effect he said he
knewe a fit waie and a most conuenient meane to
effect the kings desire, and thereby to intrap Hamblet
in his subtilties, and cause him of his owne accord to
fall into the net prepared for him, and thereby euidently shewe his secret meaning: his deuise was thus,
that King Fengon should make as though he were to
goe some long voyage, concerning affayres of great
importance and that in the meane time Hamblet
should be shut vp alone in a chamber with his
mother, wherein some other should secretly be hidden
behind the hangings, vnknowne either to him or his
mother, there to stand and heere their speeches, and
the complots by them to bee taken, concerning the
accomplishments of the dissembling fooles pretence,
assuring the king that if there were any point of wisedome and perfect sence in the gallants spirit that
without all doubte he would easily discouer it to his
mother as being deuoid of all feare that she would
vtter or make knowne his secret intent, beeing the
woman that had borne him in her bodie, and nourished him so carefully, and withall offered himselfe to
be the man, that should stand to harken, and beare
witnesse of Hamblets speeches with his mother, that
hee might not be esteemed a counsellor in such a
case, wherein he refused to be the executioner, for
the behoofe and seruice of his prince. This inuention pleased the king exceeding well, esteeming it as
the onelie and soueraigne remedie to heale the prince




236


2THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,


of his lunacie, and to that ende making a long voyage
issued out of his pallace, and road to hunt in the forrest, meane time the counsellor entred secretly into
the Queenes chamber, and there hid himselfe behind
H-amblets the arras, not long before the Queene and Hamblet
subtity.  came thither, who being craftie and pollitique, as
soone as hee was within the chamber doubting some
treason, and fearing if he should speake seuerely and
wisely to his mother touching his secret practises he
should be vnderstood, and by that meanes intercepted,
vsed his ordinary manner of dissimulation, and began
to come like a cocke beating with his armes, (in such
manner as cockes vse to strike with their wings), vpon
the hangings of the chamber, whereby feeling something stirring vnder them, he cried a rat a rat, and preA cruelre sently drawing his sworde thrust it into the hangings,
uenge taken
by Hamblet which done, pulled the counsellour (halfe dead) out
that wold by the heeles, made an end of killing him, and beeing
haue betranid
him betraid slaine, cut his bodie in peeces, which he caused to be
boyled and then cast it into an open vaulte or priuie,
that so it mighte serue for foode to the hogges, by which
meanes hauing discouered the ambushe, and giuen the
inuenter thereof his iust rewarde, hee came againe to
his mother, who in the meane time wepte and tormented
her selfe, to see all her hopes frustrate, for that what
fault soeuer she had committed, yet was shee sore
grieued to see her onely child made a meere mockery,
euery man reproaching her with his folly, one point
whereof she had as then seene before her eyes, which
was no small pricke to her conscience, esteeming that the
Gods sent her that punishment for ioyning incestuously
in marriage with the tyrrannous murtherer of her husband, who like wise ceased not to inuent all the means
Queene he could, to bring his nephew to his ende, accusing
penta.e. his owne naturall indiscretion, as beeing the ordinary
guide of those that so much desire the pleasures of the
bodie, who shutting vp the waie to all reason respect




PRINCE OF DENMARKE.


237


not what maie ensue of their lightnes, and greate inconstancy, and how a pleasure of small moment is
sufficient to giue them cause of repentance, during
their lines, and make them curse the daye and time
that euer any such apprehensions, entred into theire
mindes, or that they closed theire eies to reiect the
honestie requisite in Ladies of her qualitie, and to
despise the holy institution of those dames that had
gone before her both in nobilitie and vertue, calling
to mind the great prayses and commendations giuen
by the Danes to Rinde daughter to King Rothere, the Rinde a
chastest Lady in her time, and withall so shamefast ardmi.,.b.,
that she would neuer consent to marriage with anychastitie
prince:or knight whatsoeuer, surpassing in vertue all
the ladyes of her time, as shee herselfe surmounted
them in beawtie, good behauiour, and comelines, and
while in this sort she sate tormenting herselfe, Hamlet
entred into the chamber, who hauing once againe
searched euery corner of the same, distrusting his
mother as well as the rest, and perceiuing himselfe to
bee alone, began in sober and discreet manner to
speak vnto her saying,
What treason is this, 0 most infamous woman! of
all that euer prostrated themselues to the will of an
abhominable whore-monger who vnder the vail of a
dissembling creature couereth the most wicked and
detestable crime that man could euer imagine, or was
committed. How may I be assured to trust you, that
like a vile wanton adulteresse, altogether impudent
& giuen ouer to her pleasure, runnes spreading forth
her armes ioyfully to imbrace the trayterous villanous
tyrant, that murthered my father, and most incestuously receiuest the villain into the lawfull bed of your
loyall spouse, impudently entertaining him in steede
of the deare father of your miserable and discomforted
sonne, if the gods graunt him not the grace speedilie
to escape from a captiuity so vnworthie the degree he




238


THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,


holdeth, and the race & noble familie of his ancestors.
Is this the part of a queene, and daughter to a king?
to liue like a bruite beast (and like a mare that yeeldeth her bodie to the horse that hath beaten hir companion awaye,) to followe the pleasure of an abhominable king, that hath murthered a farre more honester
and better man then himself in massacring Horuendile, the honor, and glory of the Danes, who are now
esteemed of no force nor valour at all, since the
shining splendure of knighthood, was brought to an
end by the most wickedest, and cruellest villaine
liuing vpon earth: I for my part will neuer account
him for my kinsman, nor once knowe him for mine
vncle, nor you my deer mother for not hauing respect
to the blud that ought to haue vnited us so straightly
together, & who neither with your honor nor without
suspition of consent to the death of your husband
could euer haue agreed to haue marryed with his
cruell enemie: O Queene Geruthe, it is the part of a
bitch, to couple with many, and desire acquaintance
of diuers mastiffes: it is licentiousnes only that hath
made you deface out of your minde the memory of
the valor & vertues of the good King your husband
and my father: it was an unbrideled desire that guided
the daughter of Roderick to imbrace the Tirant
Fengon, & not to remember Horuendile (vnworthy
of so strange intertainment), neither that he killed his
brother traiterously, and that shee being his fathers
wife betrayed him, although he so well fauoured and
loued her, that for her sake he vtterly bereaved Norway of her riches and valiant souldiers, to augment
the treasures of Roderick, and make Geruthe wife to
the hardyest prince in Europe. It is not the parte
of a woman, much less of a princesse, in whome all
modesty, curtesie, compassion and loue ought to
abound, thus to leaue her deare child to fortune in the
bloody & murtherous hands of a villain and traytor,




PRINCE OF DENMARKE.


239


bruite beasts do not so: for Lyons, Tygers, ounces,
and leopards fight for the safety and defence of their
whelpes; and birds that haue beakes, claws, and
wings, resist such as would rauish them of their yong
ones, but you to the contrary expose and deliuer mee
to death, whereas ye should defend me. Is not this
as much as if you should betray me, when you knowing the peruersenes of the tyrant and his intents, ful
of deadly counsell as touching the race & image of
his brother, haue not once sought nor desired to finde
the meanes to saue your child (& only son) by sending him into Swethland, Norway, or England, rather
then to leaue him as a pray to youre infamous adulterer? bee not offended I pray you Madame, if trans-,
ported with dolour and griefe I speake so boldely vnto,
you, and that I respect you lesse then dutie requireth,
for you hauing forgotten mee, and wholy reiected the
memorye of the deceased K. my father, must not bee
abashed if I also surpasse the bounds and limits of
due consideration, Beholde into what distress I am
now fallen, and to what mischiefe my fortune and
your ouer great lightnesse, and want of wisdome haue
induced mee, that I am constrained to playe the
madde man to saue my life in steed of vsing and
practising armes, following aduentures, and seeking
all meanes to make my selfe knowne to bee the true
and vndoubted heire of the valiant and vertuous King
Horuendile, it was not without cause, and iuste occasion, yt my gestures, countenances, and words seeme
all to proceed from a madman, and that I desire to
haue all men esteeme mee wholly depriued of sence
and reasonable vnderstanding, bycause I am well assured, that he hath made no conscience to kill his
owne brother, (accustomed to murthers, & allured
with desire of gouernement without controll in his
treasons) will not spare to saue himselfe with the like
crueltie, in the blood, & flesh of the loyns of his




THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,


240


brother, by him massacred: & therefore, it is better
for me to fayne madnesse then to vse my right sences
as nature hath bestowed them vpon me, The bright
shining clearnes thereof I am forced to hide vnder
this shadow of dissimulation, as the sun doth hir
beams vnder some great cloud, when the wether in
sommer time ouercasteth: the face of a mad man,
serueth to couer my gallant countenance, & the gestures of a fool are fit for me, to ye end that guiding my
self wisely therin I may preserue my life for ye Danes,
& the memory of my late deceased father, for yt the
desire of reuenging his death is so ingrauen in my
heart yt if I dye not shortly, I hope to take such and
so great vengeance, that these Countryes shall for
euer speake thereof. Neuerthelesse I must stay the
time, meanes, and occasion, lest by making ouer great
hast, I be now the cause of mine owne sodaine ruine
and ouerthrow, and by that meanes, end, before I
beginne to effect my hearts desire: hee that hath to
we must doe with a wicked, disloyall, cruell, and discourteous
vse subtiltie
to adisloyall man, must vse craft, and politike inuentions, such as
person. a fine witte can best imagine, not to discover his
interprise: for seeing that by force I cannot effect my
desire, reason alloweth me by dissimulation, subtiltie,
and secret practises to proceed therein. To conclude,
Wee must weepe not (Madame) to see my folly, but rather sigh
oeee for and lament your owne offence, tormenting your confaults and
not for other science in regard of the infamie that hath so defiled
mens the ancient renowne and glorie that (in times past)
honoured Queene Geruth: for wee are not to sorrowe
and grieue at other mens vices, but for our owne misdeedes, and great follyes. Desiring you, for the
surplus of my proceedings, aboue all things (as you
loue your owne life and welfare) that neither the king,
nor any other may by any meanes know mine intent,
and let me alone with the rest, for I hope in the ende
to bring my purpose to effect.




PRINCE OF DENMARKE.


24I


Although the Queene perceiued herselfe neerly
touched, and that Hamlet mooued her to the quicke,
where she felt her selfe intressed: neuerthelesse shee
forgot all disdaine & wrath, which thereby she might
as then haue had, hearing her selfe so sharply, chiden
& reprooued, for the ioy she then conceaued, to behold the gallant spirit of her sonne, and to thinke
what she might hope, & the easier expect of his so
great policie and wisdome. But on the other side she
durst not lift vp her eyes to behold him, remembring
her offence, & on the other side she would gladly haue
imbraced her son, in regard of the wise admonitions
by him giuen vnto her, which as then quenched the
flames of unbridled desire yt before had moued her to
affect K. Fengon: to ingraff in her heart ye vertuous
actions of her lawfull spouse, whom  inwardly she
much lamented, when she beheld the liuely image and
portraiture of his vertue & great wisedome in her
childe, representing his fathers haughtie and valiant
heart: and so ouercome 'and vanquished with this
honest passion, and weeping most bitterly, hauing
long time fixed her eyes vpon Hamlet, as beeing
rauished into some great and deepe contemplation,
& as it were wholy amazed; at the last imbracing
him in her armes (with the like loue that a vertuous mother may or can vse, to kisse and entertaine her owne childe) she spake vnto him in this
manner.
I know well (my Sonne) that I haue done thee great
wrong in marrying with Fengon, the cruell tyrant and
murtherer of thy father, and my loyall spouse: but
when thou shalt consider the small meanes of resistance, and the treason of the Palace, with the little
cause of confidence we are to expect or hope for of the
Courtiers, all wrought to his will: as also the power
hee made ready, if I should haue refused to like of
him, thou wouldest rather excuse, then accuse me of
VOL. II.                             Q




242


THE HYISTORIE OF HAMBLET,


lasciuiousnes or inconstancy, much lesse offer me that
wrong, to suspect that euer thy mother Geruthe once
consented to the death & murther of her husband:
swearing vnto thee (by the maiestie of the Gods) that
if it had layne in my power to haue resisted the tyrant,
although it had beene with the losse of my blood, yea
and my life, I would surely haue saued the life of my
Lord and husband, with as good a will & desire, as
since that time, I haue often beene a neanes to hinder
and impeach the shortning of thy life, which being
taken away, I will no longer liue here vpon earth: for
seeing that thy sences are whole and sound, I am in
hope to see an easie meanes inuented for the reuenging of thy fathers death. Neverthelesse, mine owne
sweet sonne, if thou hast pittie of thy selfe, or care
of the memorie of thy father (although thou wilt do
nothing for her that deserueth not the name of a
mother in this respect), I pray thee carie thine affayres
wisely, bee not hastie, nor ouer furious in thy interprises, neither yet aduance thy selfe more then reason
shall mooue thee to effect thy purpose. Thou seest
there is not almost any man wherein thou mayest put
thy trust, nor any woman to whom I dare vtter the
least part of my secrets, that would not presently report it to thine aduersarie, who, although in outward
shew he dissembleth to love thee, the better to injoy
his pleasures of me, yet hee distrusteth and feareth
mee for thy sake, and is not so simple to be easily perswaded, that thou art a foole or mad, so that if thou
chance to doe any thing that seemeth to proceed of
wisedome or policie (how secretly soeuer it be done)
he will presently be informed thereof, and I am greatly
afraide that the deuils haue shewed him, what hath
past at this present between vs: (Fortune so muche
pursueth and contrarieth our ease and welfare) or that
this murther that now thou hast committed, be not
the cause of both our destructions, which I by no




PRINCE OF DENMARKE.


243


meanes will seeme to know, but will keepe secret both
thy wisedome & hardy interprise.  Beseeching the
Gods (my good sonne) that they, guiding thy heart,
directing thy counsels and prospering thy interprise, I
may see thee possesse and inioy that which is thy
right, and weare the crowne of Denmarke, by the
Tyrant taken from thee: that I may reioice in thy prosperitie, and therewith content my self, seeing with
what courage and boldness thou shalt take vengeance
vpon the murtherer of thy father, as also vpon all
those that haue assisted and fauoured him in his murtherous and bloody enterprise. Madame (sayd Hamlet) I will put my trust in you, and from hencefoorth
meane not to meddle further with your affayres, beseeching you (as you loue your own flesh and blood)
that you will from hence foorth no more esteeme of
the adulterer mine enemie, whom I wil surely kill, or
cause to be put to death, in despite of all the deuils
in hel: and haue he neuer so manie flattering courtezans1 to defend him yet will I bring him to his death,
& they themselues also shall beare him company
therein: as they haue bin his perverse counsellors in
the action of killing my father, and his companions in
his treason, massacre, and cruell enterprise.  And
reason requireth, that euen as trayterously they then
caused their prince to bee put to death, that with the
like (nay well much more) iustice they should pay the
interest of their fellonious actions.
You know (Madame) how Hother your grandfather,  othe
and father to the good king Roderick, hauing van- Rodke.
quished Guimon, caused him to be burnt, for that the bthis
cruell vilain had done the like to his lord Geuare, ~d,,e'
whom he betrayed in the night time.   And whoobr fhe..iknoweth not that traytors and periured persons de-fu j.e-or
serve no faith nor loyaltie to be obserued towardestrayt orso
1 Courtiers.




244


THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,


them, and that conditions made with murtherers,
ought to be esteemed as cobwebs, and accounted as
if they were things neuer promised nor agreed vpon:
but if I lay handes vpon Fengon, it will neither be
fellonie nor treason, hee being neither my King nor my
Lord: but I shall iustly punish him as my subiect, that
hath disloyaly behaued himselfe against his Lord &
soueraigne prince: and seeing that glory is the rewarde of the vertuous, and the honour and praise of
those that doe seruice to their naturall Prince, why
should not blame and dishonour accompany Traytors,
& ignominious death al those that dare be so bold as
to lay violent hands vpon sacred Kings, that are
friends & companions of the gods, as representing
their maiestie & persons. To conclude, glorie is the
crowne of vertue, & the price of constancie, and
seeing that it neuer accompanieth with infelicitie, but
shunneth cowardize and spirits of base & trayterous
conditions, it must necessarily followe, that either a
glorious death will be mine ende, or with my sword
in hand, (laden with tryumph and victorie) I shall
bereaue them of their liues, that made mine vnfortunate, & darkened the beames of that vertue which
I possessed from the blood and famous memory of
my Predecessors. For why should men desire to liue,
when shame & infamie are the executioners that torment their consciences, and villany is the cause that
withholdeth the heart from valiant interprises, and
diuerteth the minde from honest desire of glorie and
commendation, which indureth for euer? I know it
is foolishly done, to gather fruit before it is ripe, &
to seeke to enioy a benefit, not knowing whither it
belong to vs of right: but I hope to effect it so well,
and haue so great confidence in my fortune (that
hitherto hath guided the action of my life) that I shall
not dye, without reuenging my selfe vpon mine enemie, and that himselfe shall be the instrument of his




PRINCE OF DENMARKE.


245


owne decay, and to execute that which of my selfe I
durst not haue enterprised.
After this, Fengon (as if hee had beene out some
long iourney) came to the Court againe, and asked for
him that had receiued the charge to play the intelligencer, to entrap Hamlet, in his dissembled wisdome,
was abashed to heare neither newes nor tydings of
him, and for that cause asked Hamlet what was become of him: naming the man.    The Prince that
neuer vsed lying, and who in all the answers that euer
he made (during his counterfeit madnesse) neuer
strayed from the trueth (as a generous minde is a
mortal enemie to vntruth) answered and sayd, that
the counsellor he sought for, was gone downe through
the priuie, where being choaked by the filthynesse of
the place, the Hogs meeting him had filled their
bellyes.
CHAPTER IIII.
How Fengon the third time deuised to send Hamblet to
the king of fngland, with secret letters to haue him
put to death: and how Hamblet, when his companions slept, read the Letters, and instead of them,
counterfeited others, willing the king of England to
put the two Messengers to death, and to marry his
daughter to Hamblet, which was effected, and how
Hamblet escaped out of England.
A MAN would have iudged any thing rather then that
Hamblet had committed that murther, neuerthelesse
Fengon could not content himselfe, but still his minde
gaue him, that the foole would play him some tricke
of Liegerdemaine, and willing would haue killed him,
but he feared king Rodericke, his father in law, and




246


THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,


further durst not offend the Queene, mother to the
foole, whom she loued & much cherished: shewing
great griefe and heauinesse to see him so transported
out of his wits. And in that conceit, seeking to bee
rid of him, determined to finde the meanes to doe it
by the ayde of a stranger, making the king of England
minister of his massacring resolution, choosing rather
that his friende should defile his renowne, with so
great a wickednesse, then himselfe to fall into perpetuall infamie, by an exploit of so great crueltie, to
whom hee purposed to send him, and by letters desire
to him to put him to death.
Hamblet vnderstanding that he should be sent into
England, presently doubted the occasion of his voyage, and for that cause speaking to the Queene, desired her not to make any shew of sorrow or griefe for
his departure, but rather counterfeit a gladnesse, as
being rid of his presence, whom, although she loued,
yet she dayly grieued to see him in so pitifull estate,
depriued of all sence and reason: desiring her further,
that she should hang the hall with tapestrie, and make
it fast with nayles upon the walles, and keepe the
brands for him which he had sharpened at the points,
then, when as he said he made arrowes to reuenge
the death of his father: lastly, he counselled her, that
the yeere after his departure being accomplished, she
should celebrate his funerals: assuring her, that at
the same instant, she should see him returne with
great contentment and pleasure vnto her for that his
voyage. Now to beare him company, were assigned
two of Fengons faithfull ministers, bearing Letters ingraved in wood, that contained Hamlets death, in
such sort as he had aduertised the King of England.
But the subtile Danish prince (beeing at sea) whilest
his companions slept, hauing read the letters, and
knowne his vncles great treason, with the wicked and
villainous mindes of the two courtyers that led him to




PRINCE OF DENMARKE.


247


the slaughter; raced out the letters that concerned Hallblets
his death, and in stead thereof graued others, with craft to save
Commission to the king of England to hang his two
companions, and not content to turne the death they
had deiused against him vpon their owne neckes,
wrote further, that king Fengon willed him, to gaue
his daughter to Hamlet in mariage: and so arriuing
in England, the Messengers presented themselues to
the King, giuing him Fengons Letters; who hauing
read the contents, sayd nothing as then, but stayed
conuenient time to effect Fengons desire; meane
time vsing the Danes familiarly, doing them that
honour to sit at his table (for that kings as then were
not so curiously nor solemnely serued as in these our
dayes,) for in these dayes meane kings and lords of
small reuenewe are as difficult and hard to bee seene,
as in times past the monarches of Persia vsed to be:
or as it is reported of the great king of Aethyopia who
(wil not permit any man to see his face, which ordinarily he couereth with a vaile.) And as the Messengers sate at the table with the king, subtile Hamlet
was so far from being merry with them, that would not
taste one bit of meate, bread, nor cup of beare whatsoeuer, as then set vpon the table, not without great
wondering of the company, abashed to see a yong man
and a stranger, not to esteeme of the delicate meates
& pleasant drinkes serued at the banquet, reiecting
them as things filthy, euill of tast, & worse prepared. The king who for that time dissembled what
he thought, caused his ghests to be conueyed into their
chamber, willing one of his secret seruantes to hide
himselfe therein, & so certifie him what speeches
past among the Danes at their going to bed.
Now they were no sooner entred into the chamber,
and those that were appointed to attend vpon them
gone out, but Hamlets companions asked him, why
he refused to eate and drinke of that which hee found




248


THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,


vpon the table, not honouring the banquet of so
great a king, that entertained them in friendly sort,
with such honour and courtesie as it deserued: saying further, that hee did not well, but dishonoured
him that sent him, as if he sent men into England
that feared to bee poysoned, by so great a king. The
Prince that had done nothing without reason and
prudent consideration, answered them and sayd:
What think you, that I wil eat bread dipt in humane
blood, and defile my throate with the rust of yron,
and vse that meat that stinketh and sauoureth of
mans flesh, already putrified and corrupted, and that
senteth like the sauour of a dead carryon long since
cast into a valt: and how would you haue mee to respect the King, that hath the countenance of a slaue,
and the Queene who in stead of great majestie, hath
done three things more like a woman of base parentage, & fitter for a waiting Gentlewoman then beseeming a Lady of her qualitie and estate: & hauing sayd
so, vsed many iniurious & sharpe speeches as well
against the king & queene, as others that had assisted at that banquet for the intertainment of the
Danish Ambassadors: and therein Hamblet said
trueth, as hereafter you shall heare, for that in those
dayes, the North parts of the worlde liuing as then
under Sathans lawes, were full of inchanters, so that
there was not any yong gentleman whatsoeuer, that
knew not something therein sufficient to serue his
turne, if need required: as yet in those dayes in
Gothland & Biarmy, there are many yt knew not what
the christian religion permitteth, as by reading the histories of Norway & Gothland you may easilie perceiue:
and so Hamlet, while his father liued had been instructed in that deuilish art, whereby the wicked
spirite abuseth mankind, and aduertiseth him (as he
can) of things past.
It toucheth not the matter herein to discouer the




PRINCE OF DENMARKE,


249


parts of deuination in man, and whether this prince
by reason of his ouer great melancholy, had receiued
those impressions, deuining that, which neuer any
but himselfe had before declared, like the Philosophers, who discoursing of diuers deep points of
philosophie, attribute the force of those diuinations
to such as are Saturnists by complection who, oftentimes speake of things which their fury ceasing, they
then alreadye can hardly vnderstand who are the
pronouncers, and for that cause Plato saith, many
deuiners and many poets, after the force and vigour
of theire fier beginneth to lessen, do hardly vnderstand what they haue written, although intreating of
such things, while the spirite of deuination continueth
vpon them, they doe in such sort discourse thereof
that the authors and inuenters of the arts themselues
by them alledged commend their discourses & subtill
disputations. Likewise I mean not to relate yt which
diuers men beleeue yt a reasonable soul, becommeth
yV habitation of a meaner sort of diuels, by whom
men learn the secrets of things natural, & much lesse
do I account of ye supposed gouernors of ye world
fained by magitians by whose means they brag to
effect meruailous things; It would seeme miraculous
yt Hamlet shold divine in yt sort, which after prooued
so true (if as I said before) the diuel had not knowledg of things past, but to grant it he knoweth things
to come I hope you shall neuer finde me in so grose
an error, you will compare and make equall deriuation, & coniecture with those that are made by the
spirit of God, and pronounced by the holy prophets,
that tasted of that maruelous science, to whome
onely, was declared the secrets & wondrous workes
of the almighty. Yet there are some imposturious
companions that impute so much deuinitie to the
Diuell the father of lyes, yt they attribute vnto him
the truth of the knowledge of thinges that shall hap



250


THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,


pen vnto men, alledging the conference of Saul with
the witch although one example out of the holy scriptures, specially set down for the condemnation of
wicked man is not of force to giue a sufficient law to
all the world, for they themselues confesse, that they
can deuine, not according to the vniuersai cause of
things, but by signes borrowed from such like causes,
which are all waies alike, and by those coniectures
they can giue iudgement of thinges to come, but all
this beeing grounded vpon a weake support, (which
is a simple coniecture) & hauing so slender a foundation, as some foolish or late experience the fictions
being voluntarie, It should be a great folly in a man
of good iudgment specially one that imbraceth the
preachn of the gospell, & seeketh after no other but
the trueth thereof, to repose vpon any of these likelihoods or writings full of deceipt.
As touching magical operations, I will grant them
somewhat therein, finding diuers histories yt write
thereof, & that the Bible maketh mention and forbiddeth the vse thereof, yea the lawes of the gentiles
and ordinances of Emperors, haue bin made against
it, in such sort, that Mahomet the great Hereticke &
friend of the Diuell by whose subtiltyes hee abused
most part of the East countries hath ordained great
punishments for such as vse and practise those vnlawfull & damnable arts which for this time leauing of,
let vs returne to Hamblet, brought vp in these abuses,
according to the manner of his country, whose companions hearing his answere reproached him of folly,
saying that hee could by no meanes show a greater
point of indiscretion, Then In despising that which is
lawfull, and reiecting that which all men receaued, as
a necessary thing and that hee had not grossely so
forgotten himselfe, as in yt sort to accuse such and so
excellent a man as the king of England, and to slander
the Queene, being then as famous and wise a princes,




PRINCE OF DENaIARKE.


251


as any at that day raigning in the lands thereabouts,
to cause him to be puntshed, according to his deserts,
but he continuing in his dissimulation, mocked him,
saying that hee had not done any thing that was not
good & most true: on the other side the King being
aduertised thereof by him that stood to heare the discourse, iudged presently that Hamlet speaking so ambiguously was either a perfect foole, or else one of the
wisest princes in his time, answering so sodainly, and
so much to the purpose, vpon the demaund by his
companions, made touching his behauiour, and the
better to finde the trueth caused the babler to be sent
for, of whome inquiring in what place the corne grew
whereof he made bread for his table, and whether in
that ground there were not some signes or newes of a
battaile fought whereby humaine blood had therein
been shed, the babler answered that not far from
thence there lay a field ful of dead mens bones: in
times past slaine in a battaile, as by the greate heapes
of wounded scullea, mighte well appeare and for that
the grounds in that parte was become fertiler then
other grounds by reason, of the fatte and hurnours of
the dead bodies, yt euery yeer the farmers vsed there
to haue in ye best wheat they could finde to serue his
majesties house. The King perceiuing it to be true,
according to the yong princes wordes, asked where
the hogs had bin fed that were killed to be serued at
his table, and answere was made him, that those
hogs getting out of the saide fielde wherein they
were kepte had found the bodie of a thiefe that
had beene hanged for his demerits, and had eaten
thereof: whereat the King of England beeing abashed,
would needs know with what water the beer he vsed
to drinke of, had beene brued, which hauing knowne,
he caused the riuer to be digged somewhat deeper,
and therin found great store of swords and rustie
armours, that gaue an ill savour to the drinke.




252


THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,


It were good that I should heere dilate somewhat of
Merlius prophesies which are said to be spoken of him
before he was fuly one yeere old, but if you consider
wel what hath al reddy been spoken it is no hard
matter to diuine of things past, although the minister
of Sathan therein played his part gluing sodaine and
prompt answeres, to this yong prince, for that herein are
nothing but natural things, such as were wel known to
be true, and therefore not needfull to dreame ofthinges
to come. This knowne, the King greatly moued with
a certaine curiositie, to knowe why the Danish prince
saide that he had the countenance of a slaue suspecting thereby that he reproached the basenes of his blood
and that he wold affirme that neuer any prince had bin
his sire, wherin to satisfie himselfe, he went to his
mother, and leading her into a secret chamber, which
he shut as soone as they were entted desired her of her
honour to shewe him of whome he was ingendred in
this world. The good Lady, wel assured that neuer
any man had bin acquainted wt her loue, touching any
other man then her husband, sware that the King her
husband onely was the man that enioyed the pleasures
of her body, but the king hir sonne, alreadie with the
truth of the Danish princes answers, threatned his mother
to make her tell by force, if otherwise she would not
confesse it, who for feare of death acknowledged that
she had prostrated her body to a slaue, & made him
father to the king of England whereat the king was
abashed and wholy ashamed, I giue them leaue to
Iudge who esteeming themselues honester than theire
neighbours, & supposing that there can be nothing
amisse in their houses, make more enquirie then is
requisite to know ye which they would rather not haue
known, neuerthelesse dissembling what he thought,
& biting vpon the bridle, rather then he would depriue
himselfe, by publishing the lasciuiousnes of his mother,
thought better to leaue a great sin vnpunished, then




PRINCE OF DENMARKE.


253


thereby to make himselfe contemptible to his subiects,
who peraduenture would have reiected him as not
desiring to haue a bastard to raigne ouer so great a
kingdome.
But as he was sorry to hear his mothers confession,
on the otherside he tooke great pleasure in the subtilry,
and quick spirit of the yong prince, and for that cause
went vnto him to aske him why he had reprooved
three things in his Queene conuenient for a slaue, and
sauouring more of basenes then of royaltie, & far unfit
for the maiesty of a great prince, The king not content
to haue receiued a great displeasure by knowing him
selfe to be a bastard, & to haue heard wt what injuries
he charged her whom hee loued best in all the world,
would not content himself vntill he also vnderstood
yt which displeased him, as much as his owne proper
disgrace, which was that his Queen was the daughter
of a chambermaid, and with all noted certaine foolish
countenances, she made, which not onely shewed of
what parentage she came, but also yt hir humors
sauored of the basenes and low degree of hir parents,
whose mother he assured the king was as then yet
holden in seruitude. The king admiring the young,
prince, and behoulding in him some matter of greater
respect then in the common sort of men, gaue him his
daughter in marriage, according to the counterfet
letters by him deuised, & the next day caused the two
seruants of Fengon to be executed, to satisfie, as he
thoughtthe king's desire; but Hamlet, although y sport
plesed him wel, & that the King of England could not
haue done him a greater fauour, made as though he
had been much offended, threatening the king to be
reuenged, but the King to appease him gaue him a
great sum of gold, which Hamlet caused to be molten,
and put it into two staues, made hollow for the same
purpose, to serue his tourne there with as neede should
require, for of all other the kings treasures he took




254


THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,


nothing wt him into Denmark but onely those two
staues, and as soone as the yeere began to bee at an
end hauing somewhat before obtained licence of the
King his father in law to depart, went for Denmarke,
Then with all the speed hee could to returne againe
into England to marry his daughter and so set sayle
for Denmarke.
CHAPTER V.
How Hamblet hauing escaped out of England, arriued
in Denmarke the same day that the Danes were
celebrating his funerals, suApposing him to be dead
in England, and how he reuenged his fathers death
ipon his Vncle and the rest of the Courtiers; and
what followed:
HAMBLET in that sort sayling into Denmark, being
arriued in the contry entred into the pallace of his
Uncle the same day that they were celebrating his
funeralls, and going into the Hall, procured no small
astonishment and wonder to them all, no man thinking other but that hee had beene deade; among the
which many of them reioyced not a little, for the
pleasure which they knew Fengon would conceaue
for so pleasant a losse, and some were sadde, as remembring the honourable king Horuendile, whose
victories they could by no meanes forget, much lesse
deface out of theire memories that which apperteined
vnto him, who as then greatly reioyced to see a false
report spread of Hamlets death, and that the tyrant
had not as yet obtained his will of the heire of Jutie,
but rather hoped God would restore him to his sences
againe for the good and welfare of that province.
Their amazement at the last beeing tourned into
laughter, all that as then were assistant at the funerall




PRINCE OF DENMARKE.


255


banquet, of him whome they esteemed dead, mocked
each at other, for hauing beene so simply deceiued,
and wondring at the Prince, that in his so long a
voyage he had not recouered any of his sences, asked
what was become of them that had borne him company into greate Brittain, to whom he made answere
(shewing them the two hollow staues, wherein he had
put his molten golde, that the king of England had
giuen him to appease his fury, concerning the murther
of his two companions) and said, here they are both.
Whereat many that already knew his humours, presently coniectured that hee had plaide some tricke of
legerdemane, and to deliuer himselfe out of danger,
had throwne them into the pitte prepared for him, so
that fearing to follow after them and light vpon some
euil adventure, they went presently out of the court,
and it was well for them that they didde so, considering the Tragedy acted by him the same daie, beeing
accounted his funerall, but in trueth theire last daies,
that as then reioyced for their ouerthrow; for when
euery man busied himselfe to make good cheare, and
Hamlets ariuall prouoked them more to drinke and
carouse, the prince himselfe at that time played the
Butler and a gentleman attending on the tables, not
suffering the pots nor goblets to bee empty, whereby
hee gaue the noble men such store of liquor, that all
of them being ful laden with wine, and, gorged with Drunk.ene
meate, were constrained to lay themselues downe in common i
-m-,a1te,1                      '  tlle north
the same place where they had supt, so much their paresofthe
sences were dulled, and ouercome with the fire of ouer
great drinking, (a uice common and familiar among
the Almaines, and other nations inhabiting the north
parts of ye wor[l]d) which when Hamlet perceiuing, &
finding so good opportunitie to effect his purpose &
bee reuenged of his enemies, & by ye means to
abandon the actions gestures & apparel of a mad
man, occasion so fitly finding his turn, & as it were




256


THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,


effecting it selfe failed not to take hold therof, &
seeing those drunken bodies, filled with wine, lying
like hogs, vpon the ground, some sleeping, others
vomiting the ouer great abundance of wine which without measure they had swallowed vp, made the hangings
about the hall to fall downe & couer them all ouer,
which he nailed to the ground, beeing boorded, &
at the endes thereof he stuck the brands whereof I
spake before by him sharpned, which serued for
prickes, binding and tying the hangings, in such sort,
that what force soeuer they vsed to loose themselues, it
was vnpossible to get from vnder them, and presently
he set fire in the foure corners of the hal, in such
sort that all that were as then therin not one escaped
away but were forced to purge their sins by fire, &
dry up the great aboundance of liquor by them
receined into their bodies, all of them dying in the
vneuitable and mercilesse flames of the whot & burning fire which the prince perceiuing, became wise, &
knowing yt his vncle before the end of the banquet
had withdrawn himselfe into his chamber, which
A strange stood apart from the place where the fire burnt, went
tkengby thither, & entring into ye chamber, layd hand vpon
HamIet. the sword of his fathers murtherer, leauing his own in
the place, which while he was at the banket some of
the courtiers had nailed fast into the scaberd, & going
to Fengon said, I wonder disloyal king how thou
canst sleep heer at thine ease: & al thy pallace is
burnt the fire thereof hauing burnt ye greatest part of
thy courtiers & ministers of thy cruelty, & detestable
tirannies, & which is more I cannot imagin how thou
A mocke sholdst wel assure thy self, & thy estate, as now to
butyetsharp
andYsting- take thy ease, seeing Hamlet so neer thee armed with
Sieg let" yy shafts by him prepared long since & and at this
his vncle.
present is redy to reuenge the traiterous iniury by thee
done to his Lord & Father.
Fengon as then knowing ye truth of his nephews




PRINCE OF DENMARKE.


257


subtile practise, & hering him speak wt stayed mind,
& which is more, perceiued a sword naked in his
hand, which he already lifted vp to depriue him of
his life, leaped quickly out of the bed, taking holde
of Hamlets sworde, that was nayled into the scaberd,
which as hee sought to pull out, Hamlet gaue him
such a blowe vpon the chine of the necke, that hee
cut his head cleane from his shoulders, and as he fell
to the ground sayd: This iust and violent death is a
first reward for such as thou art, now go thy wayes,
& when thou commest in hell, see thou forget not to
tell thy brother (whom thou trayterously slewest) that
it was his sonne that sent thee thither with the
message, to the ende that beeing comforted thereby,
his soule may rest among the blessed spirits, and quit
mee of the obligation which bound me to pursue his
vengeance vpon mine owne blood, that seeing it was
by thee, that I lost the chiefe thing that tyed me to
this aliance & consanguinitie. A man (to say the
trueth) hardie, couragious, and worthy of eternall
commendation, who arming himself with a crafty,
dissembling and strange shew of beeing distract out
of his wits, vnder that pretence deceiued the wise,
pollitike, and craftie: thereby not onelie preseruing
his life from the treasons & wicked practises of the
Tyrant, but (which is more) by an new & vnexpected
kinde of punishment reuenged his fathers death: Cominen
many yeeres after the act committed: in no such sort datm'et for
that directing his courses with such patience, & effect- kirng't
ing his purposes, with so great boldnes & constancie,
he left a iudgement to be decyded among men of
wisdom, which was more commendable in him, his
constancy or magnanimitie, or his wisdom in ordring
his affaires, according to the premeditable determination he had conceaued.
If vengeance euer seemed to haue any shew of How iust
iustice, it is then, when pietie and affection con-ought t be
SV~OL. ~II~.                     R     0considerel.
VOL. II.                               R




258


THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,


straineth vs to remember our fathers uniustly murdred, as the things wherby we are dispensed withal,
& which sceke the means not to leaue treason and
Dauids in- murther vnpunished: seeing Dauid a holy & iust..adng0m iking, & of nature simple, courteous and debonaire,
Salo to
rS.i. gehimyet when he dyed he charged his sonne Salomon
of menmiof (that succeeded him in his throane) not to suffer
certaine men that had done him iniurie to escape vnpunished: Not that this holy King (as then readie to
dye, and to giue account before God of all his
actions) was carefull or desirous of reuenge, but to
leaue this example vnto vs, that where the Prince or
Countrey is interessed, the desire of reuenge cannot
by any meanes (how small soeuer) beare the title of
condemnation, but is rather commendable and worthy
of praise: for otherwise the good kings of Iuda, nor
others had not pursued them to death, that had
offended their predecessors, if God himselfe had not
inspired and ingrauen that desire within their hearts.
Hereof the Athenian lawes beare witnesse, whose
custome was to erect Images in remembrance of
those men that, reuenging the iniuries of the Common wealth, boldly massacred tyrants and such as
troubled the peace and welfare of the Citizens.
Hamblet hauing in this manner reuenged himselfe,
durst not presently declare his action to the people,
but to the contrary determined to worke by policie,
so to giue them intelligence, what he had done, and
the reason that drewe him thereunto; so that beeing
accompanied with such of his fathers friends, that
then were rising, he stayed to see what the people
would doe, when they shoulde heare of that sodaine
and fearefull action. The next morning the Townes
bordering there aboutes, desiring to know from
whence the flames of fire proceeded the night before
they had seene, came thither, and perceiuing the
kings Pallace burnt to ashes, & many bodyes (most




PRINCE OF DENzMARKE.


259


part consumed) lying among the rvines of the house,
all of them were much abashed, nothing being left of
the Palace but the foundation: but they were much
more amased to beholde the body of the king all
bloody, & his head cut off lying hard by him, whereat
some began to threaten reuenge, yet not knowing
against whom: others beholding so lamentable a
spectacle armed themselues, the rest reioycing, yet
not daring to make any shewe thereof, some detesting the crueltie, others lamenting the death of their
Prince, but the greatest part calling Horuendiles
murther to remembrance, acknowledging a iust iudgement from aboue, that had throwne downe the pride
of the Tyrant: and in this sort, the diuersities of
opinions among that multitude of the people, being
many, yet euery man ignorant what would be the
issue of that Tragedie, none stirred from thence,
neither yet attempted to moue any tumult, euery man
fearing his owne skinne, and distrusting his neighbour, esteeming each other to bee consenting to the
massacre.
CHAPTER VI.
How Hamlet hauing slaine his uncle, and burnt his
Palace, made an Oration to the Danes, to shew
them what he done: and how they made him king
of Denmarke, and what followed.
HAMLET then seeing ye people to be so quiet, & most
part of them not vsing any words, all searching onely
and simply the cause of this rine and destruction,
not minding to loose any time, but ayding himself
with the commodotie thereof, entred among the multitude of people, and standing in the middle spake
vnto them, as followeth.




260


THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,


If there be any among you (good people of Denmark) that as yet haue fresh within your memories,
the wrong done to the valiant king Horuendile, let
him not be mooued, nor thinke it strange to behold
the confused, hydeous, and fearefull spectacle of this
present calamitie: if there be any man that affecteth
fidelitie, and alloweth of the loue and dutie that man
is bounde to shewe his parents, and find it a iust cause
to call to remembrance the iniuryes and wrongs that
have been done to our progenitors, let him not bee
ashamed beholding this massacre, much less offended
to see so fearefull a ruine both of men, and of the
brauest house in all this countrey: for the hand that
hath done this iustice, could not effect it by any other
meanes, neither yet was it lawfull for him to doe it
otherwise, then by ruinating both sensible and vnsensible things, thereby to preserue the memorie of so
iust a vengeance.
I see well (my good friends) & am very glad to
know so good attention and deuotion in you, that you
are sorrie (before your eyes) to see Fengon so murthered, and without a head, which heeretofore you
acknowledged for your Commander: but I pray you
remember, this body is not the body of a king, but of
an execrable tyrant, and a parricide most detestable.
Oh Danes, the spectacle was much more hydeous,
when Horuendile your king was murthered by his
brother, What should I say a brother? nay rather, by
the most abhominable executioner that euer beheld
the same. It was you that saw Horuendiles members
massacred, and that with teares and lamentations
accompanied him to the graue: his body disfigured,
hurt in a thousand places, & misused in ten times as
many fashions; and who doubteth (seeing experience
hath taught you) that the Tyrant (in massacring your
lawfull king) sought onely to infringe the auncient
Liberties of the common people? and it was one hand




PRINCE OF DENMARKZE.


26r


onely, that murthering Horuendile, cruelly dispoyled
him of life, and by the same meanes uniustly bereaued
you of your auncient liberties, & delighted more in
oppression then to embrace the plesant countenance
of prosperous libertie, without aduenturing for the
same? And what mad man is he, that delighteth
more in the tyrrany of Fengon, then in the clemencie
and renewed courtesie of Horuendile? If it bee so,
that by clemencie and affabilitie, the hardest and
stoutest hearts are molified and made tractable, and
that euill and hard vsage causeth subiects to be outragious and vnruly: why behold you not the debonair
cariage of the first, to compare it wt the cruelties &
insolencies of the second, in euery respect as cruell
& barbarous, as his brother was gentle, meeke and
courteous. Remember, O you Danes remember, what
loue and amitie Horuendile shewed vnto you, with
what equitie and iustice he swayed the great affaires
of this kingdome, and with what humanitie and courtisie he defended & cherished you, and then I am
assured that the simplest man among you will both
remember and acknowledge, that he had a most
peaceable, iust, & righteous king taken from him, to
place in his throane a tyrant and murtherer of his
brother: one that hath peruerted all right, abolished
the auncient Lawes of our fathers, contaminated the
memories of our ancestors, & by his wickednesse polluted the integritie of this kingdome, vpon the necke
thereof hauing placed the troublesome yoak of heauie
seruitude, abolishing that libertie wherein Horuendile
vsed to maintaine you, and suffred you to liue at
your ease, and should you now bee sorrie to see the
ende of your mischiefes, & that this miserable wretch,
pressed downe with the burthen of his offences, at
this present payeth the vsury of the parricide committed vpon the body of his brother, & would not
himselfe be the reuenger of the outrage done to me,




262       THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,
whom he sought to depriue of mine inheritance, taking
from Denmark a lawfull successor, to plant a wicked
stranger, & bring into captiuitie those that my father
had infranchised, and deliuered out of misery & bondage? And what man is he that hauing any sparke
of wisdom, would esteem a good deed to be an iniury,
& account pleasures equal with wrongs & euident outrages? It were then great folly & temerity in Princes
& valiant commanders in the wars, to expose themselues to perils & hazards of their liues, for the welfare of the common people, if yt for a recompence
they should reape hatred & indignation of the multitude, to what end should Hother haue punished
Balder, if in steed of recompence, the Danes and
Swethlanders had banished him to receiue and accept
the successors of him that desired nought but his ruine
and overthrowe? What is hee that hath so small feeling of reason & equitie, that would be grieued to see
treason rewarded with the like, and that an euill act
is punished with iust demerit, in the partie himselfe
that was the occasion: who was euer sorrowfull to
behold the murtherer of innocents brought to his end:
or what man weepeth to see a iust massacre done
vpon a Tyrant, vsurper, villaine and bloody personage?
I perceiue you are attentiue, & abashed for not
knowing the author of your deliuerance, and sorry
that you cannot tell to whom you should bee thankefull for such & so great a benefit as the destruction of
a tyrant, and the ouerthrow of the place, that was the
storehouse of his villanies, and the true receptacle of
all the theeues and traytors in this kingdome: but beholde (here in your presence) him that brought so good
an enterprise to effect. It is I (my good friends) it is
I that confesse I haue taken vengeance, for the violence done vnto my lord & father, and for the subiection and seruitude that I perceiued in this Countrey,




PRINCE OF DENMARKE.


263


whereof I am the iust and lawfull successor. It is I
alone, that haue done this piece of worke, whereunto
you ought to haue lent me your handes, and therein
haue ayded and assisted me, I haue only accomplished
that, which all of you might iustly haue effected, by
good reason, without falling into any point of treason
or fellonie: it is true that I hope so much of your
good willes, towards the deceased king Horuendile, &
that the remembrances of his vertues is yet so fresh
within your memories, that if I had required your aide
herein, you would not haue denied it, specially to your
naturall prince. But it liked mee best to doe it my
selfe alone, thinking it a good thing to punish the
wicked, without hazarding the liues of my friends and
loyall subiects, not desiring to burthen other mens
shoulders, with this weight, for that I made account
to effect it well inough without exposing any man into
danger, & by publishing the same should cleane haue
ouerthrowne the deuice, which at this present I haue
so happily brought to passe. I haue burnt the bodyes
of the courtiers to ashes, being companions in the
mischiefs and treasons of the tyrant, but I haue left
Fengon whole, that you might punish his dead carkasse (seeing that when hee liued you durst not lay
hands vpon him) to accomplish the full punishment
and vengeance due vnto him, and so satisfie your
choller vpon the bones of him, that filled his greedy
hands and coffers with your riches, and shed the blood
of your brethren and friends. Bee ioyfull then (my
good friends) make ready the nose-gay for this vsurping King, burne his abhominable body, boyle his lasciuious members, and cast the ashes of him that hath
beene hurtfull to all the world, into the ayre; driue
from you the sparkes of pitie, to the end that neither
siluer, nor christall cup, nor sacred tombe may be the
restfull habitation of the reliques & bones of so detestable a man: let not one trace of a parricide be seene,




264


THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,


nor your countrey defiled with the presence of the
least member of this tyrant without pity, that your
neighbors may not smell the contagion, nor our land
the polluted infection of a body condemned for his
wickednes: I haue done my part, to present him to
you in this sort, now it belongs to you to make an
ende of the worke, & put to the last hand of dutie,
whereunto your seuerall functions call you, for in this
sort you must honor abhominable princes: and such
ought to be the funerall of a tyrant, parricide, and
vsurper both of the bed & patrimony, that no way
belonged vnto him, who hauing bereaued his countrey
of liberty, it is fit that the land refuse to giue him a
place for the eternal rest of his bones.
O my good friends seeing you know the wrong that
hath bin done vnto mee, what my griefs are & in what
misery I haue liued since the death of the king, my
Lord & father, and seeing that you haue both known
and tasted these things then, when as I could not
conceiue the outrage that I felt: what neede I recite
it vnto you? what benefit would it be to discouer it
before them, that knowing it, would burst (as it were
with despight) to heare of my hard chance, and curse
Fortune for so much imbasing a royall prince, as to
depriue him of his maiesty, although not any of you
durst so much as shew one sight of sorrow or sadnes?
You know how my father in law conspired my death,
& sought by diuers meanes to take away my life, how
I was forsaken of the Q. my mother, mocked of my
friends, and dispised of mine own subiects, hetherto
I haue liued laden with griefe, and wholy confounded
in teares, my life still accompanied with fear and
suspition, expecting the houre when the sharp sword
would make an ende of my life and miserable anguishes, how  many times counterfeiting ye mad
man, haue I heard you pitty my distresse, & secretly
lament to see mee disinherited, and yet no man




PRINCE OF DENMARKE.


265


sought to reuenge the death of my father, nor to
punish the treason of my incestuous vncle, full of
murthers &  massacres?   This charitie ministred
comfort, and your affectionate complaints made me
euidently see your good wills, that you had in memorie
the calamity of your prince, & within your harts ingrauen the desire of vengeance for the death of him
that deserued a long life: & what heart can bee so
hard & vntractable, or spirit so seuere, cruel and
rigorous, that would not relent at the remembrance of
my extremities, and take pitty of an Orphan child, so
abandoned of the world? What eyes were so voyd
of moysture, but would distill a field [flood] of tears, to
see a poore Prince assaulted by his owne subiects, betrayed by his mother, pursued by his vncle, & so much
oppressed, that his friends durst not shew the effects of
their charitie and good affection? O (my good friends)
shew pity to him whom you haue nourished, and let
your harts take some compassion vpon the memory of
my misfortunes: I speak to you that are innocent of al
treason, & neuer defiled your hands spirits nor desires
with the blud of the greate & vertuous king Horuendile.  Take pity vpon the queen some time your
soueraign lady, & my right honorable mother, forced
by the tyrant, and reioyce to see the end & extinguishing of the object of her dishonor, which
constrained her to be lesse pitiful to her own blood
so far as to imbrace the murtherer of her own dear
spouse, charging her selfe with a double burthen of
infamy & incest, together wt iniuring and disanulling
of her house, & the ruine of her race. This hath
bin ye occasion yt made me counterfet folly, & couer
my intents vnder a vaile of meer madnes, which hath
wisdom & pollicy thereby to inclose the fruit of this
vengeance which yt it hath attained to the ful point of
efficacy & perfect accomplishment you your selues
shall bee iudges, for touching this & other things




266       ToHE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,
concerning my profit, & the managing of great affaires,
I refer my self to your counsels, & therunto am fully
determined to yeeld, as being those yt trample vnder
your feet the murtherers of my father, & despise the
ashes of him that hath polluted and violated the
spouse of his brother, by him massacred, yt hath committed felony against his Lord, traiterously assailed
the majesty of his king & odiously thralled his contry
vnder seruitude and bondage, & you his loyall. subiects
from whom he bereauing your liberty, feared not to ad
incest to parricide, detestable to al the world, to you
also it belongeth by dewty & reason commonly to defend & protect Hamlet the minister, and executor of
iust vengeance who being iealous of your honour &
reputation, hath hazarded himself, hoping you will
serue him for fathers, defenders, & tutors, & regarding
him in pity, restore him to his goods and inheritances,
It is I yt haue taken away the infamy of my contry,
and extinguished the fire yt imbraced your fortunes, I
haue washed the spots yt defiled the reputation of the
queen, ouerthrowing both the tirant & the tiranny and
beguiling the subtilities of the craftiest deceiuer in the
world, and by that meanes brought his wickednes and
impostures to an end; I was grieued at the iniurie
committed both to my father, & my natiue country,
and haue slaine him that vsed more rigorus commandements ouer you, then was either iust or conuenient to be used vnto men that haue commaunded
the valiantest nations in the world. Seeing then he
was such a one to you, it is reason, that you acknowledge the benefit & thinke wel of for the good I had
done your posterity, & admiring my spirit & wisdome, chuse me your king, if you think me worthy of
the place, you see I am the author of your preseruation, heire of my fathers kingdome, not straying in
any point from his vertuous action, no murtherer,
violent parricide, nor man yt euer offended any of




PRINCE OF DENMARKE.


267


you but only the vitious, I am lawfull successor in
the kingdome, and iust reuenger of a crime aboue al
others most grieuous & punishable: it is to me, that
you owe the benefit of your liberty receaued, and of
the subuersion of that tyranny yt so much afflicted
you: that hath troden vnder feete the yoke of the
tirant, and ouerwhelmed his throne, and taken ye scepter out of the hands, of him that abused a holy and
iust authoritie, but it is you yt are to recompence those
yt haue well deserued, you know what is the reward of
so greate desert, & being in your hands to distribute
the same, it is of you, that I demand the price of my
vertue and the recompence of my victory.
This oration of the yong prince so mooued the
harts of the Danes, and wan the affections of the
nobility, that some wept for pity other for ioy, to see
the wisedome and gallant spirit of Hamlet, and hauing made an end of their sorrow, al with one consent
proclaimed him king of Julie and Chersonnese, at this.Hamlet
present the proper country of Denmarke, and having plrtof Dle
celebrated his coronation, and receiued the homagesrk
and fidelities of his subjects, he went into England to
fetch his wife, and reioyced with his father in law,
touching his good fortune, but it wanted little that the
king of England had not accomplished that which
Fengon with all his subtilties could neuer attaine.
CHAPTER VII.
How Hamlet after his coronation went into England,
and how the king of England secretly would haue
put him to death, and how he slew the King of
England: and returned againe into Denmarke
with two wiues, and what followed.
HAMLET being in England shewed the King what




268


THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,


meanes hee had wrought to recouer his kingdom, but
when the king of England vnderstood of Fengons
death, he was both abashed and confused in his
minde, at that instant feeling himselfe assailed with
two great passions, for that in times past, he and
Fengon hauing bin companions together in armes,
had giuen each other their faith & promises, by oath,
that if either of them chanced to bee slaine by any
man whatsoeuer, hee that suruiued (taking the quarrel
vpon him as his owne) should neuer cease till he were
reuenged or at the leaste do his endeauour. This
promise incited the barbarous king to massacre Hamlet, but the alliance, presenting it selfe before his eies,
and beholding the one deade, although his friend, and
the other aliue, and husband to his daughter, made
him deface1 his desire of reuenge. But in the end
the conscience of his oath and promise obtained the
vpper hand, and secretly made him conclude the
death of his sonne in law, which enterprise after that
was cause of his own death and ouerrunning of the
whole country of England by the cruelty and despight
conceiued by the King of Denmarke. I haue purposely omitted the discourse of that battaile, as not
much pertinent to our matter, as also, not to trouble
you with too tedious a discourse, being content to
shew you the end of this wise & valiant king Hamlet,
who reuenging himselfe vpon so many enemies, &
discouering all the treasons practised against his life,
in the end serued for a sport to fortune, & an example
to all great personages, that trust ouermuch to the
felicities of this world, yt are of small moment, & lesse
continuance.
The king of England perceiuing that hee could not
easilie effect his desire vpon the king his son in lawe,
as also not being willing to break the laws, & rights of
1 [Mr Collier proposed to read defer.]




PRINCE OF DENMARKE.


269


Hospitality, determined to make a stranger the reuenger of his iniury, & so accomplish his oath made
to Fengon without defiling his handes wt the blood of
the husband of his daughter, & polluting his house by
the traiterous massacring of his friend. In reading
of this history it seemeth Hamlet should resemble
an other Hercules, sent into diuers places of the world,
by Euristheus (solicited by Iuno) where he knew any
dangerous aduenture, thereby to ouerthrow & destroy
him, or else Bellerophon sent to Ariobatus to put him
to death, or (leaving prophane histories,) an other
Vrias by King Dauid appointed to bee placed in the
fore front of the battaile, and the man that should bee
first slain by the Barbarians. For the King of Englands wife being dead not long before, (although he
cared not for marrying an other woman) desired his
sonne in lawe to make a voyage for him into Scotland, flattering him in such sort, that he made him
beleeue that his singular wisdome caused him to
preferre him to that ambassage, assuring himselfe
that it were impossible that Hamlet the subtillest
& wisest prince in the worlde should take anything in the world in hand without effecting the
same.
Now the queen of Scots beeing a maid and of a
haughty courage, despised marriage with al men, as
not esteeming any worthy to be her companion, in
such manner that by reason of this arrogant opinion
there neuer came any man to desire her loue but she
caused him to loose his life: but the Danish Kings
fortune was so good that Hermetrude (for so was the
queens name,) hearing that Hamlet was come thither
to intreat a marriage between her and the king of
England, forgot all her pride, & dispoiling herselfe of
her sterne nature, being as then determined to make
him (being the greatest prince as then liuing) her
husband, & deprive the English princesse of her




270


THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,


spouse whome shee thought fit for no men1 but herself, & so this Amazon without loue disdaining Cupid,
by her free wil submitted her haughtie mind to her
concupiscence. The Dane arriving in her court, desired she to see the old king of Englands letters &
mocking at his fond appetites, whose blood as then
was half congealed, cast her eies vpon the yong &
plesant Adonis of the North, esteeming her selfe
happy to haue such a pray fall into her hands wherof
she made her ful account to haue the possession, &
to conclude she yt neuer had been ouercome by the
grace, courtesie, valor or riches of anie prince nor
Lord whatsoeuer, was as then vanquished wt the
onelie report of the subtilties of the Dane who
knowing that he was already fianced to the daughter
of the king of England, spake vnto him & said, I
neuer looked for so great a blisse, neither from the
Gods, nor yet from fortune, as to behold in my countries, the most compleate prince in the north, & he
that hath made himselfe famous & renowned through
all the nations of the world, as well neighbours as
strangers, for the only respect of his vertue wisdom
& good fortune, seruing him much in the pursuite &
effect of diuers thinges by him vndertaken, & thinke
my selfe much beholding to the king of England
(although his malice seeketh neither my aduancement
nor the good of you my Lord) to do me so much
honor as to send me so excellent a man to intreate
of a marriage (he being olde & a mortal enemy
to me and mine) with mee that am such a one as
euery man seeth, is not desirous to couple with a man
of so base quality as he, whom you haue said to be
ye son of a slave, but on the other side I maruel yt the
son of Horuendile, and grand-child to king Roderick,
1 [So the old copy; perhaps, as suggested by Mr Collier, we
should read one.]




PRINCE OF DrENI. ARKE.


271


he that by his foolish wisedom, & fained madnesse
surmounted the forces & subtilties of Fengon, &
obtained the kingdom of his aduersary, should so
much imbase himself, (hauing otherwise bin very wise
and wel aduised, in all his actions) touching his bedfellow, & hee that for his excellency and valor surpasseth humane capacity, should stoope so lowe as to
take to wife her that issuing from a seruile race, hath
only the name of a king for her father, for that the
basenes of her blood, will alwaies cause her to shewe
what are the vertues & noble qualities of hir ancestors: and you my Lord said she, are you so ignorant
as not to know that mariage should not bee measured
by any foolish opinion, of an outward beautie, but
rather by vertues and antiquitie of race, which maketh
the wife to be honored for her prudence, and neuer
degenerating from  the integritie of his ancestors:
exterior beawty also is nothing, where perfection of
ye mind doth not accomplish, & adorn that which is
outwardly seen to be in the bodie, and is lost by an
accident, & occurrence of small moment: as also such
toyes haue deceiued many men, & drawing them like
inticing baits, haue cast them headlong into the gulf
of their ruine, dishonor, and vtter ouerthrow, it was
I to whom this advantage belonged being a queen,
& such a one, as for nobility may compare my selfe
with the greatest princes in Europe, being nothing
inferiour vnto any of them neither for antiquitie
of blood, nobilitie of parents, nor abundance of riches,
& am not only a Queene, but such a one, as that receiuing whom I will for my companion in bed, can
make him beare the title of a king, & with my body
giue him possession of a great kingdome, & goodly
prouince, think then my Lord how much I account of
your alliance, who being accustomed with the sword to
pursue such as durst imbolden themselues to win my
love, it is to you only to whom I make a present both of




272


THE HYSTORlE OF HAMBLET,


my kisses, imbracings scepter, & crown: what man is he
if he be not made of stone, would refuse so pretious a
pawn as Hermetrude with ye kingdome of Scotland?
accept sweete king, accepte this Queene, who wt so great
loue & amitie, desireth your so great profit, & can giue
you more contentment in one day then the princesse of
England wold yeeld you pleasure during hir life, &
although shee surpasse me in beawty, her bloud beeing base it is fitter for such a king as you are to chuse
Hermetrude, lesse beautiful but noble & famous, rather
then the English Lady with great beawtie, but issuing
from an vnknown race, without any title of honor:
now think if the Dane hearing such forcible resons &
vnderstanding yt by her which he half doubted as also
moued wt choller for the treason of his father in law,
yt purposely sent him thether to loose his life, & being
welcomed, kist, and playd withal by this queen, yong,
& reasonable faire, if he were not easie enough to be
conuerted, & like to forget the affection of his first
wife, wt this to enioy the realme of Scotland, & so
open the waie to become king of all greate Britain, yt
to conclude he marryed her & led her with him to the
king of Englands, court which moued the king from
that time forward much more to seek the meanes, to
bereaue him of his life, & had surely done it, if his
daughter, Hamlets other wife, more careful of him yt
had reiected her then of her fathers welfare, had not
discovered the enterprise to Hamlet saying, I know
well my Lord, yt the alurements & perswasions of a
bold & altogether shameles woman, being more lasciuious then the chast imbracements of a lawful and
modest wife, are of more force to intice and charm
the sences of yong men: but for my part I cannot
take this abuse, for satisfaction to leaue mee in this
sorte, without all cause reason or precedent faulte once
knowne in mee your loyall spouse, & take more pleasure in the aliance of her who one day will be the




PRINCE OF DENMARKE.


273


cause of your ruine, and ouerthrow, and although a
iust cause of iealousye and reasonable motion of anger,
dispence with mee at this time, to make no more account of you then you do of me, that am not worthy
to be so scornfully reiected, yet matrimoniall charitie
shal haue more force & vigour in my hart, then the
disdaine which I haue iustly conceiued to see a concubine hold my place and a strange woman before my
face inioy the pleasures of my husband. This iniury
my Lord although great & offensiue which to reuenge
diuers Ladies of great renown haue in times past
sought & procured the death of their husbands, cannot so much restrain my good wil, but that [I] may
not chuse but aduertise you what treason is deuised
against you, beseeching you to stand vpon your guard
for that my fathers onely seeking is to bereaue you of
your life, which if it happen, I shall not long liue after
you. Manie reasons induse me to loue and cherish
you, and those of great consequence, but specially
and aboue all the rest, I am and must bee carefull of
you, when I feele your child stirring in my wombe;
for which respecte, without so much forgetting your
self, you ought to make more account of me then of
your concubine: whome I will loue because you loue
her, contenting my selfe that your sonne hateth her,
in regard to the wrong she doth to his mother: for it
is impossible that any passion or trouble of the mind
whatsoeuer can quench those fierce passions of loue,
that made me yours, neither that I shold forget
your fauours past, when loyallie you sought the loue
of the daughter of the king of England, neither is it
in the power of that thiefe that hath stoln your heart,
nor my fathers choller, to hinder me, from seeking
to preserue you from the cruelty of your dissembling
friend (as heertofore by counterfetting the madman,
you preuented the practises, & treasons of your Uncle
Fengon) the complot being determined to be executed
VOL. II.                              S




274       THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,
vpon you & yours, without this aduertisement, the Dane
had surely been slain, & the Scots yt came with him
for the King of England inuiting his son in Law to a
banquet wt the greatest curtesies yt a friend can vse
to him whom he loued as himself, had the means to
intrap him, and cause him dance a pittiful galliard, in
that sort; to celebrate the marriage betweene him and
his new lady. But Hamlet went thither with armor
vnder his clothes, & his men in like sort, by which
means, he and his escaped with little hurt, and so after
that hapned the battaile before spoken of, wherein
the king of England losing his life, his countrie was
the third time sacked by the barbarians of the ilands,
& countrie of Denmark.
CHAPTER VIII.
How Hamblet being in Denmarke, was assailed by
Wiglerus his vncle, and after betrayed by his last
wife, called Hermetrude, and was slaine: after
whose death she marryed his enemie, Wiglerus.
HAMLET having obtained the victory against the king
of England, and slaine him, laden with great treasures
and accompanied with his two wiues, set forward to
saile into Denmarke, but by the way hee had intelligence, that Wiglere his vncle, and sonne to Rodericke,
hauing taken the royall treasure from his sister Geruth
(mother to Hamblet) had also seazed vpon the kingdome: saying, that neither Horuendile nor any of his
helde it but by permission, and that it was in him (to
whom the property belonged) to giue the charge therof
to whom he would. But Hamblet not desirous to
have any quarrel with the sonne of him, from whom
his Predecessors had receiued their greatnes and ad



PRINCE OF DENMARKE.


275


uancement, gaue such and so rich presents to Wiglere,
that he being contented withdrew himselfe out of the
countrey & territories of Geruths sonne. But within
certaine time after, Wiglere, desirous to keepe all the
countrey in subiection, intyced by the conquest of
Scanie, and Sialandie, and also that Hermetrude (the Hermetrude
wife of Hamlet, whom he loued more then himselfe) bnetiYer
had secret intelligence with him and had promised husband
him marriage, so he would take her out of the handes
of him that held her, sent to defie Hamlet, and proclaimed open warre against him. Hamlet like a good
and wise prince, louing especially the welfare of his
subiects, sought by all meanes to auoide that warre,
but againe refusing it, he perceiued a great spot and
blemish in his honor, and accepting the same, hee
knewe it would bee the ende of his dayes: by the
desire of preseruing his life on the one side, & his
honor on the other side pricking him forward; but
at the last remembring that neuer any danger whatsoeuer had once shaken his vertues and constancy, chose
rather the necessitie of his ruine, then to loose the
immortall fame that valiant and honourable men
obtained in the warres; and there is as much difference betweene a life without honour and an honourable death, as glory & renowne is more excellent then
dishonour and euill report.
But the thing that spoyled this vertuous Prince, was
the ouer great trust & confidence hee had in his wife
Hermetrude, and the vehement loue hee bare vnto
her, not once repenting the wrong in that case done
to his lawfull spouse, and for the which (paraduenture that misfortune had neuer hapned vnto him,
and it would neuer haue bin thought, that she whom
he loued aboue all things, would haue so villainously betrayed him), hee not once remembring his
first wiues speeches, who prophesied vnto him, that
the pleasures hee seemed to take in his other wife,




276


THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,


would in the end be the cause of his overthrowe, as
they had rauished him of the best part of his sences,
& quenched in him the great prudence that made
him admirable in all the countries in the ocean seas,
and through all Germany, now the greatest grief, that
this king (besotted on his wife) had, was the separation of her whom he adored, and, assuring himselfe of
his ouerthrowe, was desirous, either that shee might
beare him company at his death, or els to find her a
husband that should loue her (he beeing dead) as
well as euer hee did: but the disloyall queene, had
already prouided her selfe of a marriage, to put her
husband out of trouble and care for that: who perceiuing him to be sad for her sake, when shee should
haue absented her selfe from him, she to blind him
the more, and to incourage him to set forward to his
owne destruction, promised to follow him whether soeuer he went, & to take the like fortune that befell to
him, were it good or euil, and that so she would giue
him cause to know, how much shee surpassed the
English woman in her affection towardes him, saying, that woman is accursed that feareth to follow
and accompany her husband to the death: so that
to heare her speake, men would haue sayd that
shee had beene the wife of Mithridates, or Zenobia
queene of Palmira, shee made so greate a show of
loue and constancy: But by the effect it was after
easily perceiued, how vaine the promise of this vnconstant and wauering Princesse was: and howe vncomparable the life of this Scottish Queene was to
the vigor of her chastitie, being a mayd before she
was married. For that Hamlet had no sooner entred
into the field, but she found meanes to see Wiglere,
and the battel begun, wherein the miserable Danish
Hamlet  Prince was slaine: but Hermetrude presently yeelded
slai her self, with all her dead husbands treasons, into
the hand of the Tyrant: who more then content with




PRINCE OF DENMARKE.


277


that metamorphosis so much desired, gaue order that
presently the marriage (bought with the blood and
treasor of the sonne of Horuendile) should bee celebrated.
Thus you see, that there is no promise or determination of a woman, but that a very small discommoditie of Fortune mollifieth and altereth the same,
and which time doeth not peruert; so that the misfortunes subject to a constant man shake and ouerthrowe the naturall slipperie loyaltie of the variable
steppes of women, wholy without any' faithfull assurance of loue, or true vnfained constancy; for as a
woman is readie to promise so is shee heauy and
slowe to performe, and effect that which she hath
promised, as she that is without end or limit in her
desires, flattring her selfe in the diuersitie of her
wanton delights, and taking pleasure in diuersitie and
change of newe things, which as soone shee doth
forget and growe weary off: and to conclude, such
shee is in all her actions, she is rash, couetous, and
vnthankefull, whatsoeuer good or seruice bee done
vnto her. But nowe I perceiue I erre in my discourse, vomiting such things vnworthy of this sects,
but the vices of Hermetrude haue made mee say more
then I meant to speake, as also the Authour, from
whence I take this Hystorie, hath almost made mee
hold his course, I finde so great a sweetnesse and
liuelinesse in this kinde of Argument: and the rather
because it seemeth so much the truer, considering the
miserable successe of poore king Hamlet.
Such was the ende of Hamlet, sonne to Horuendile, Prince of Jutie: to whom if his Fortune had
been equall with his inward and naturall giftes, I
know not which of the auncient Grecians and Romans
had beene able to haue compared with him for vertue
1 [Old copy reads, and any.]




278


THE HYSTOIRE OF HAMBLET,


and excellencie: but hard fortune following him in
all his actions, and yet hee vanquishing the malice of
his time, with the vigour of constancy, hath left vs
a notable example of haughtie courage, worthy of a
great Prince, arming himselfe with hope in things
that were wholy without any colour or shewe thereof,
and in all his honorable actions made himselfe worthy
of perpetuall memorie, if one onely spotte had not
blemished and darkened a good part of his prayses.
For that the greatest victorie, that a man can
obtain is to make himselfe victorious, and lord ouer
his owne affections, and that restraineth the vnbridled desires of his concupiscence: for if a
man be neuer so princely, valiant, and wise, if
the desires and inticements of his flesh preuaile,
and have the vpper hand, hee will imbase his credite,
and gasing after strange beauties become a foole, and
(as it were) incensed, dote on the presence of women.
This fault was in the great Hercules, Sampson, and
the wisest man that euer liued vpon the earth following this traine, therein impaired his wit, and the most
noble, wise, valiant and discreet personages of our
time, following the same course haue left vs many
notable examples of their worthy and notable vertues.
But I beseech you that shall reade this Hystorie,
not to resemble the Spider, that feedeth of the corruption that shee findeth in the flowers and fruites
that are in the Gardens, whereas the Bee gathereth
her hony, out of the best and fayrest flower shee can
finde: for a man that is well brought vp should reade
the lues of whoremongers, drunkards, incestuous,
violent and bloody persons, not to follow their steps,
and so to defile himselfe with such vncleannesse, but
to shunne paliardize, abstain the superfluities and
drunkennesse in banquets, and follow the modestie,
courtesie, and continencie that recommendeth Hamlet,
in this discourse, who while other made good cheare,




PRINCE OF DENMARK4E.


279


continued sober, and where all men sought as much
as they could, to gather together riches and treasure,
hee simply accounting riches nothing comparable to
honor, sought to gather a multitude of vertues, that
might make him equall to those that by them were
esteemed as Gods, hauing not as then receiued the
lighte of the Gospell, that men might see among the
Barbarians, and them that were farre from the knowledge of one onelye God, that nature was prouoked
to follow that which is good and those forward to
imbrace vertue for that there was neuer any nation
how rude or barbarous soever that tooke not some
pleasure to do that which seemed good, therby to
win praise, and commendations, which wee haue said
to be the reward of vertue, and good life, I delight
to speak of these strange histories, and of people
that were vnchristned, that the vertue of the rude
people nlaie giue more splendor, to our nation who
seeing them so compleat,1 wise, prudent, and well
aduised in their actions, might striue not only to follow (imitation being a small matter) but to surmount
them as our religion surpasseth their superstition,
and our age more purged subtill, and gallant, then
the season wherin they liued and made their vertues
knowne.
1 [The last lines from " compleat" to the end taper after the
manner of books of the time. I


FINIS.




I




O T HELL O.




INVTR OD UCTION.


THE novel upon which " Othello " was founded was
translated into English by W. Parr, in 1795, and that
version we have appended to our reprint of the original
by Cinthio, in his "' Hecatommithi," Decad. III, Nov.
7. The narrative is not known in our language at
an earlier date: it may have existed in the time of
Shakespeare, and may have been since lost, or he
may have been sufficiently acquainted with Italian to
glean such incidents as suited his purpose; and this,
in fact, is nearly the whole extent of his obligation.
Shakespeare has deviated from the novel in several
places, particularly in the conclusion, where, according to Cinthio, Desdemona is killed, not by Othello,
but by Iago, in a most clumsy and unpoetical manner,
his weapon being a stocking filled with sand-una
calza piena di rena: Othello is an accomplice in the
murder, and, in order to conceal it, they afterwards
pull down the ceiling of the room upon the dead
body, having first spezzatale la testa.  Our great
dramatist improved upon his original in other respects,
by introducing the character of Roderigo, and by
making Emilia the dupe of Iago in stealing the embroidered handkerchief, to which no magical virtues
are imputed in the novel. Shakespeare perceived at
once, that for Iago to purloin it from Desdemona,
while she was playing with his child, could not be




INTRODUCTION.


283


rendered an effective dramatic incident: besides, the
mere circumstance of making lago a father was to
form some alliance between him and the finer and
tenderer feelings of our nature. The disappointed
passion of Iago for Desdemona is thrust into the
foreground in the Italian novel, and the villain derives
no impulse towards his crime from envy of the advancement of Cassio. In short, the novel is, in all
respects, a very poor and ill-constructed composition;
and a comparison of it with Shakespeare's " Othello"
illustrates most forcibly, not only the exhaustless
resources, but the wonderful judgment, of our greatdramatist.
It is to be observed that the only name introduced
by Cinthio is that of Desdemona: Othello is called
by him the Moor, Cassio the lieutenant, and Iago the
ensign or ancient. Of Brabantio we hear nothing,
and are merely told generally, that Desdemona's relations did all in their power to induce her to marry
some other person.
Whence Shakespeare obtained the names of his
characters must remain a question until, perhaps,
some old translation or adaptation of Cinthio's novel
is discovered, where they may be found. The only
other work in which Othello occurs was pointed out
by Malone, viz., "God's Revenge against Adultery,"
by Reynolds, where a person called Othello is represented as "an old German soldier."' Farmer truly
1 [It has been surmised as a possibility that by Ohello the
Moor we should understand Otell Moro. The Mori were an
antient Venetian family of ducal rank, and Cristoforo Moro, who
had served with distinction in the wars of his country, was Doge
in I462.]




284               INTR OD UC TION.
states that Iago is the name given to the Prince of
Saxony in the old romance of "Euordanus," I605;
but that work was printed three years after the date
when Othello was acted: he omitted to remark that -
Emilia is also a name in the same work, which is
another slight circumstance connecting it with
Shakespeare's tragedy. Several portions of this work
might be adduced to shew that Shakespeare was
acquainted with it; and it is the more worthy of
attention, because it appears to be an original romance,
not translated, like many others, from a foreign
original.
1 [So far as I can judge there is a certain inconsistency in the
form which this name (a form of 7amnes) is allowed to take in
the moder editions. When the I or i of the old printed copies
is otherwise altered to for j, Iago alone remains unchangedperhaps to meet rhythmical exigencies. It is, in fact, the same
name as Jago, which is still a common appellation in Cornwall.]




Un capitano Moro piglia per mogliera uwa cittadina   Veneziana, an suo aifiero laccusa di
adulterio al marito; cerca, che l'afiero uccida
colui, ch'egli credea /'adiutero; il capitano
uccide la moglie, e accusato daIl' a/fiero, non
confessa il Moro, ma essendovi chiari indis'z
bandito; e lo scelerato a/fiero, credendo nuocere
ad altri, procaccia a se la morte miseramente.
FU     gia in Venezia un Moro, molto valoroso, il
quale, per essere prb della persona, e per aver
dato segno, nelle cose della guerra, di gran prudenza,
e di vivace ingegno, era molto caro a que' signori, i
quali nel dar premio agli atti virtuosi avanzano quante
republiche fur mai. Avenne, che una virtuosa donna,
di maravigliosoa belleza, Disdemona chiamata, tratta
non da appetito donnesco, ma dalla virth del Moro,
s'innamorb di lui: ed egli, vinto dalla bellezza, e dal
nobile pensiero della Donna, similmente di lei si
accese, ed ebbero tanto favorevole amore, che si
THERE was once in Venice a Moor of great merit, who for his
personal courage, and the proofs he had given of his conduct,
as well as his vigorous genius in the affairs of war, was held in
great esteem by those gentlemen who, in rewarding patriotic services, excel all the republics that ever existed. It happened that a
virtuous woman of great beauty, called Desdemona, not drawn
by female appetite, but by the virtue of the Moor, fell in love




286


THE MOOR OF VENICE.


congiunsero insieme per matrimonio, ancora che i
parenti della donna facessero cib, che poterono,
perche, ella altro marito si prendesse, che lui: e
vissero insieme di si concorde volere, e in tanta tranquillita, mentre furono in Venezia, che mai tra loro
non fu non dirb cosa, ma parola men, che amorevole. Occorse, che i signori Veneziani fecero mutazione delle genti d' arme, ch' essi sogliono tenere
in Cipri: ed elesseno per capitano de' soldati, che la
mandavano, il.Moro.    I1 quale, ancora che molto
lieto fosse dell' onore, che gli era offerto (perb che
tal grado di dignita non si suol dare se non agli
uomini, e nobili, e forti, e fedeli, e che abbiano
mostrato avere in se molto valore) si scemava nondimeno la sua allegrezza, qualora egli si poneva innanzi
la lunghezza, e la malagevolezza del viaggio, pensandosi, che Disdemona ne dovesse rimanere offesa: la
donna, che altro bene non aveva al mondo, che il
Moro, ed era molto contenta, del testimonio, ch'
aveva avuto il marito della sua virtu da cosi possente,
e nobile repubblica non vedea Fora, che il marito,
colle sue genti, si mettesse in camino, ed ella andasse
with him; and he, subdued by the charms and noble sentiments
of the lady, became equally enamoured of her. Their passion
was so successful that they were married, although her relations
did all in their power to make her take another husband. They
lived together in such peace and concord while they were at
Venice, that there never passed between them either word or
action that was not expressive of affection. The Venetians resolving to change the garrison which they maintain in Cyprus,,elected the Moor to the command of the troops which they
destined for that island. Although he was extremely pleased
with the honour proposed to him (as it is a dignity conferred
only on those who are noble, brave, trusty, and of approved
courage), yet was his joy diminished when he reflected on the
length and inconvenience of the voyage, supposing that
Desdemona must be very averse to undertaking it. His wife,
who valued nothing in the world but her husband, and rejoiced exceedingly in the testimony of approbation so lately




THE MOOR OF VENICE.


287


seco in compagnia in cosi onorato luogo, ma le dava
gran noia il vedere il Moro turbato.     E, non ne
sapendo la cagione, un giorno mangiando gli disse;
Che vuole egli dir, Moro, che poi, che vi e stato
dato  dalla  Signoria  cosi onorato   grado, ve   ne
state tanto  maninconcio? a Disdemona disse        il
Moro, Turba    la  contentezza  del ricevuto onore,
l'amore, che io ti porto, perche io veggo, di necessith,
delle due cose deverne avvenir 1' una: overo, ch'io ti
meni con esso meco a pericoli del mare: overo, che
per non ti dar questo disagio ti lasci in Venezia. La
prima non mi potrebbe essere se non grave, perche
ogni fatica, che tu ne sostenessi, ed ogni pericolo, che
ci sopravenisse, mi recherebbe estrema molestia. La
seconda, devendoti lasciare, mi sarebbe odioso a me
medesimo; perche, partendomi da te, mi patirei dalla
mia vita.  Disdemona, cib inteso; deh, disse, marito
mio, che pensieri son questi che vi vanno per 1'
animo? a che lasciate, che cosa tal vi turbi? vogli io
venire con voi, ovunque andrete, Si bene cosi devessi
passare in camicia per iI fucco, come son per venire
per acqua con voi, in sicura, e ben guarnita nave: e,
shewn him by a powerful and celebrated republic, was extremely impatient for the departure of the troops, that she might
accompany him to a post of so much honour. But she was very
much vexed at seeing the Moor disturbed; and, not knowing the
reason, said to him one day at dinner, "How can you be so
melancholy after having received from the Senate so high and so
honourable a distinction?"-" My love for you, Desdemona,"
replied the Moor, "disturbs my enjoyment of the rank conferred
upon me, since I am now exposed to this alternative-I must
either endanger your life by sea, or leave you at Venice. The
first would be terrible, as I shall suffer extremely from every
fatigue you undergo, from every danger that threatens you: the
second would render me insupportable to myself, as parting
from you would be parting from my life."-"Ah, husband," returned Desdemona, " why do you perplex yourself with such
idle imaginations? I will follow you wherever you go, though
it were necessary to pass through fire instead of only going by




288


THE MOOR OF VENICE.


se pure vi saranno pericoli, e fatiche, io con voi ne
voglio essere a parte, e mi terrei d'essere poco amata
da voi, quando, per non mi avere in compagnia nel
mare, pensaste di lasciarmi in Venezia, o vi persuadeste, che piu tosto mi volessi star qui sicura, ch'essere con voi in uno istesso pericolo. Pero voglio,
che vi apparecchiate al viaggio, con tutta quella allegrezza, che merita la qualita del grado, che tenete.
Gettb allora le braccia al collo tutto lieto il Moro alla
mogliera, e con un affettuoso bacio le disse: Iddio ci
conservi lungamente in questa amorevolezza, moglie
mia cara: ed indi a poco, pigliati i suoi arnesi, e
messossi ad ordine per lo cammino, entro colla sua
donna, e con tutta la compagnia, nella galea: e date
le vele al vento, si mise in cammino: e con somma
tranquillitt del mare, se n'ando in Cipri. Aveva
costui nella compagnia un a"' ro di bellissima presenza, ma della pit scelerata natura, che mai fosse
uomo del mondo. Era questo molto caro al Moro,
non avendo egli delle sue cattivita notizia alcuna.
Perche, quantunque egli fosse di vilissimo animo,
copriva nondimeno, colle alte, e superbe parole, e
water in a safe and well-equipped vessel. If there are dangers in the way, I will share them with you; and, indeed, your
affection for me could not be great, if you thought of leaving
me at Venice to save me from a sea voyage, or believed that I
would rather remain here in security than share with you both
danger and fatigue. I insist, therefore, on your preparing for
the voyage with all that cheerfulness which your dignity ought
to inspire." The Moor then tenderly embraced his wife, saying, "May Heaven long preserve us in this degree of reciprocal
affection." Soon afterwards, having settled his affairs and prepared the necessary stores, he went on board the galley with
his wife and his company, and sailed for Cyprus with a favourable wind. He had in his company an ensign of a very amiable
outward appearance, but whose character was extremely treacherous and base. He had imposed on the Moor's simplicity so
successfully, that he gained his friendship; for although he was,
in fact, a very great coward, yet his carriage and conversation




THE MOOR OF VENICE.


289


colla sua presenza, di modo la vilta, ch' egli chiudea
nel cuore, che si scopriva nella sembianza un Ettore,
o un Achille. Avea similmente menato questo malvagio la sua moglie in Cipri, la quale era bella, ed
onesta giovane: e per essere Italiana, era molto amata
dalla moglie del Moro, e si stava la maggior parte del
giorno con lei. Nella medesima compagnia era anche
un capo di squadra, carrissimo al Moro: andava spessissime volte questo a casa del Moro, e spesso mangiava con lui e con la moglie. Laonde la donna che
lo conosceva cosi grato al suo marito, gli dava segni di
grandissima benivolenza. La qual cosa era molto cara
al Moro. Lo scelerato alfiero, non curando punto la
fede data alla sua moglie, n  1F amicizia, ne la fede, ne
P' obligo, ch' egli avesse al Moro, s' innamorb di
Disdemona ardentissimamente; e volto tutto il suo
pensiero a vedere, se gli poteva venir fatto di dimostrarsi, temenda, che, se il Moro se ne avedesse, non
gli desse subito morte. Cercb egli con varj modi,
quanto pih occultamente poteva, di far accorta la
donna, ch' egli 1' amava.  Ma ella, ch' avea nel Moro
ogni suo pensiero, non pensava punto ne all' alfiero,
were so haughty and full of pretension, that you would have
taken him for a Hector or an Achilles. This rascal had also
conducted his wife with him to Cyprus, who was a handsome
and discreet woman; and, being an Italian, Desdemona was
so fond of her, that they passed the greatest part of their time
together. In the same company was also a lieutenant, to
whom the Moor was much attached. The lieutenant went often
to the Moor's house, and dined frequently with him and his
wife. Desdemona seeing that the Moor was so fond of him,
shewed him every mark of attention and civility, with which the
Moor was much pleased. The detestable ensign, forgetting
his duty to his own wife, and violating all the laws of friendship,
honour, and gratitude with which he was bound to the Moor,
fell passionately in love with Desdemona, and thought only how
he might enjoy her. He dare not, however, avow himself, for
fear the Moor, if he discovered it, should instantly put him to
death. He sought by all the private means in his power to
make Desdemona conscious of his love. But she was so entirely
VOL. II.                                    T




290


THE MOOR OF VENICE.


ne ad altri. E tutte le cose, ch' egli facea, per accenderla di lui, non piu operavano, che se fatto non le
avesse.  Onde s'imaginb costui, che cib avenisse,
perche ella fosse accesa del capo di squadra; e pensb
volerlosi levar dinanzi agli occhi, e non pure a cib
piegb la mente, ma mutb 1' amore, ch' egli portava
alla donna, in acerbissimo odio; e si die, con ogni
studio, a pensare, come gli potesse venir fatto, che
ucciso il capo di squadra, se non potesse goder della
donna, il Moro anco non ne godesse. E rivolgendosi
per I' animo varie cose tutte scelerate, e malvagie,
alla fine, deliberb di volerla accusare di adulterio al
marito, e dargli ad intendere, che 1' adultero era il
capo di squadra; ma sappendo costui 1' amore singolare, che portava il Moro a Disdemona, e 1' amicizia,
ch' egli avea col capo di squadra, conosceva apertamente, che se con astuta froda non faceva inganno
al Moro, era impossibile a dargli a vedere ne 1' uno, ne
1' altro. Per la qual cosa si mise ad aspettare, che il
tempo, e il luogo gli aprisse la via da entrare a cosi
scelerata impresa.  E non passo molto, che il Moro,
per aver messo mano alla spada il capo di squadra,
taken up with the Moor, that she thought neither of him nor
of any one else; and all that he did to engage her affections
produced not the least effect. He then took it into his head,
that this neglect arose from her being pre-engaged in favour of
the lieutenant; and not only determined to get rid of him, but
changed his affection for her into the most bitter hatred. He
studied, besides, how he might prevent in future the Moor from
living happily with Desdemona, should his passion notbe gratified
after he had murdered the lieutenant. Revolving in his mind a
variety of methods, all impious and abominable, he at lastdetermined to accuse her to the Moor of adultery with the lieutenant.
But knowing the Moor's great affection for Desdemona, and his
friendship for the lieutenant, he plainly saw that unless his deceit
was very artfully conducted, it would be impossible to make him
think ill of either of them. For this reason he determined to
wait till time and place afforded him a fit opportunity for enterng on his wicked design; and it was not long before the Moor
degraded the lieutenant for having drawn his sword and




THE MOOR OF VENICE.


291


nella guardia, contra un soldato, e dategli delle ferite,
lo privb del grado: la qual cosa fu gravissima a
Disdemona. E molte volte aveva tentato di rappacificare il marito con lui. Tra questo mezzo disse il
Moro allo scelerato alfiero, che la moglie dava
tanta seccagine per il capo di squadra, che temea
finalmente, di non essere astretto a ripigliarlo. Prese
da  cib il mal' uomo      argomento   di por mano
a gli orditi inganni, e disse; Ha forse Disdemona
cagione di vederlo volentieri.    Et perche? disse
il Moro, io non viglio, rispose 1' alfiero, por mano tra
marito, e moglie: ma, se terrete aperti gli occhi, voi
stesso lo vi vedrete. Ne per diligenza, che facesse in
Moro, volle 1' alfiero piu oltre passare: benche lasciarono tali parole, cosi pungente spina nell' animo
del Moro, che si diede con sommo studio a pensare
cib che volessero dire tali parole, e se ne stava tutto
maninconioso.    La onde, tentando     un giorno la
moglie di ammolire 1' ira sua verso il capo di squadra,
e pregandolo a non voler mettei in oblio la servith,
e 1' amicizia di tanti anni, per un picciolo fallo;
essendo massimamente nata pace, fra il soldato ferito
wounded a soldier upon guard. This accident was so painful to Desdemona, that she often tried to olbtain for him her
husband's pardon. In the mean time the Moor had observed
to the ensign, that his wife teazed him so much in favour of
the lieutenant, that he feared he should be obliged at last to
restore him to his commission. This appeared to that villain
the proper moment for opening his scheme of treachery which
he began by saying, " Perhaps Desdemona is fond of his company."  "And why?" said the Moor. "'Nay," replied he,
"I do not chuse to meddle between man and wife; but if you
watch her properly, you will understand me." Nor would he,
to the earnest entreaties of the Moor, afford any further explanation. These words had stung the Moor so severely, that he
endeavoured perpetually to find out their meaning, and became
exceedingly melancholy. Whereupon, when his wife sometime
afterwards repeated her solicitations that he would forgive the
lieutenant, and not sacrifice the service and friendship of so
many years to one slight fault, particularly as the lieutenant and




292


THE MOOR OF VENICE.


ed il capo di squadra, venne il Moro in ira, e le disse:
Gran cosa e questa, Disdemona, che tu tanta cura ti
pigli di costui, non e pero egli ne tuo fratello, ne tuo
parente, che tanto ti debba essere a cuore.       La
donna, tutta cortese, e umile; non vorrei, disse, che
voi vi adiraste con meco, altro non mi muove, che il
dolermi di vedervi privato di cosi caro amico, qual so,
per lo testimonio di voi medesimo, che vi e stato il
capo di squadra: non ha pero egli commesso si grave
errore, che gli debbiate portar tanto odio. Ma voi
Mori siete di natura tanto caldi, ch'ogni poco di cosa
vi muove ad ira, e a vendetta. A queste parole pii
irato rispose il Moro, tale lo potrebbe provare, che
non sel crede: vedrb tal vendetta delle ingiurie, che
mi son fatte, che ne resterb sazio. Rimase la donna
tutta sbigottita a queste parole: e, veduto fuor del
suo costume, il marito, contra lei riscaldato, umilmente disse; altro, che buon fine, a parlarvi di cib
non mi ha indotta, ma perche pih non vi abbiate di
adirar meco, non vi dirb pih mai di cib parola.
Veduta il Moro la instanza, che di nuovo gli avea
fatta la moglie, in favore del capo di squadra, s' imathe soldier were friends again, the Moor grew angry, and said
to her, "It is somewhat extraordinary, Desdemona, that you
should take so much trouble about this fellow; he is neither
your brother nor your relation, that he should claim so much of
your affecion."  His wife, with much sweetness and humility,
replied, " I have no other motive for speaking, than the pain it
gives me to see you deprived of so excellent a friend as you have
always told me the lieutenant was to you. I hope you will not
be angry with me; yet his fault does not merit so much of
your hatred: but you Moors are of so warm a constitution,
that every trifle transports you with anger and revenge." The
Moor, still more irritated by these words, replied, " Perhaps one
who suspects it not may learn that by experience; I will be revenged for the injuries done to me, so thoroughly, that I shall
be satisfied." His wife was much terrified by these expressions,
and seeing him, for the first time, in a passion with her, submissively answered, " I have none but the purest motives for
speaking on the business: but not to displease you in future, I




THE M OOR OF VENICE.


293


ginb che le parole, che gli avea detto 1' aifiero, gli
avessero voluto significare, che Disdemona fosse inamorata di lui, e se n' andb a quel ribaldo tutto maninconioso, e comincib a tentare, ch' egli piu apertamente
gli parlasse.  L'alfiero, intento al danno di questa
misera donna, dopo 1' aver finto di non voler dir cosa,
che fosse per dispiacergli, mostrandosi vinto da'
preghi del Moro, disse; Io non posso negare, che
non m' incresce incredibilmente, di avervi a dir cosa,
che sia per esservi piu di qualunque altra molesta:
ma, poi che pur volete, ch' io la vi dica, e la
cura, che io debbo avere dell' onor vostro, come
di mio signore, mi sprona anche a dirlovi, non voglio ora mancare ne alla vostra dimanda, ne al debito
mio. Devete adunque sapere, che, non per altro, e
grave alla donna vostra il veder il capo di squadra in
disgrazia vostra, che per lo piacere, ch' ella si piglia
con lui, qual' ora egli in casa vostra viene: come
colei, a cui git b venuta anoia questa vostra nerezza.
Queste parole passarono il cuore al Moro insino alle
radici: Ma, per saper piu oltre (ancora, ch' egli credesse vero quanto avea detto 1' alfiero, per lo sospetto,
promise never to speak of it again." The Moor, on this new
application made by his wife in favour of the lieutenant, imagined that the ensign's words meant that she was in love with
him: he therefore went to that scoundrel in a state of great
dejection, and endeavoured to make him speak more intelligibly.
The ensign, bent on the ruin of this poor woman, after feigning an unwillingness to say anything to her disadvantage,
and at last pretending to yield to the vehement entreaties of
the Moor, said, "I cannot conceal the pain I feel in being under
the necessity of making a discovery which will be to you so
very shocking; but since you insist on it, and the attention
which I ought to pay to the honour of my commanding officer
prompts me to speak, I will not now refuse to satisfy your demand and my own duty. You must know, then, that Desdemona is only displeased at seeing you angry with the lieutenant,
because, when he comes to your house, she consoles herself with
him for the disgust which your blackness now occasions her to
feel." These words penetrated to the very bottom of the Moor's




294


THE MOOR OF VENICE.


che gia gli era nato nell' animo) disse, con fiero viso;
non sb io che mi tenga, che non ti tagli questa lingua,
tanto audace, che ha avuto ardir di dar tal infamia
alla donna mia. L' alfiero allora, non mi aspettava,
disse, capitano, di questo mio amorevole ufficio, altra
mercede; ma, poi che tanto oltre mi ha portato il
debito mio, ed il desiderio dell' onor vostro: io vi
replico, che cosi sta la cosa, come intesa 1' avete, e se
la donna, col mostrar di amarvi, vi ha cosi appannati
gli occhi, che non abbiate veduto quel, che veder
devevate, non e mica per cio, che io non vi dica il
vero.  Perche il medesimo capo di squadra 1' ha
detto a me, come quegli, cui non pareva la sua felicita
compiuta, se non ne faceva alcuno altro consapevole;
e gli soggiunse: e, se io non avessi temuta 1' ira vostra,
gli avrei dato, quando cib mi disse, quella mercede,
coll ucciderlo, della quale egli era degno. Ma poscia,
che il farvi saper quello, che piu a voi, che a qualunque altro appartiene, me ne fa avere cosi sconvenevole guiderdone: me ne vorrei essere stato cheto,
che non sarei, tacendo, incorso nella disgrazia vostra.
I1 Moro allora tutto cruccioso, se non mi fai, disse,
heart; but to be better informed (although his previous suspicion made him give great credit to the ensign's information)
he assumed a threatening countenance, and said, " I know not
what prevents me from cutting out that insolent tongue of yours
that has so impudently attacked the honour of my wife." The
ensign then replied, "I expected no other reward for this
friendly office of mine; but since my duty has made me go so
far, and my regard for your honour still remains, I tell you again
that the case is so; and if her feigned affection for you has blindfolded you to such a degree that you have not seen what is so
very visible, that does not at all lessen the truth of my assertion.
The lieutenant himself, who is one of those who are not content
with their own enjoyments when some other is not made acquainted with them, told me so; and," added he, " if I had not
feared your displeasure, I would have given him at the time that
death he merited. But since the information I give you, which
concerns you more than any one else, makes you treat me so
very improperly, I am sorry I did not hold my tongue, that I




THE MOOR OF VENICE.


295


vedere cogl' occhi quello, che detto mi hai, viviti
sicuro, che ti farb conoscere, che meglio per te
sarebbe, che tu fossi nato mutolo. Agevol mi sarebbe
stato questo, soggiunse il malvagio, quando egli in
casa vostra veniva, ma ora, che, non per quello che
bisognava, ma per vie pih lieve cagione, 1' avete
scacciato, non mi potra essere se non malagevole,
che ancora che io stimi, ch' egli di Disdemona si
goda, qualora voi gliene date 1' agio, molto piu cautamente lo dee fare ora, che si vede esservi venuto in
odio, che non facea di prima.  Ma anco non perdo la
speranza di potervi far vedere quel, che creder non
mi volete.   E   con queste parole si dispartirono.
II misero Moro, come tocco da pungentissimo strale,
se n' andb a casa, attendendo che venisse il giorno, che
1' alfiero gli facesse veder quello, che lo devea far, per
sempre, misero.  Ma non minor noia dava al maladetto alfiero la castith, ch' egli sapeva, che osservava
la donna, perche gli parea non poter ritrovar modo a
far credere al Moro quello, che falsamente detto gli
aveva: e, voltato in varie parti il pensiero, penso lo
scelerato a nuova malizia. Andava sovente la moglie
might have avoided giving you offence." The Moor then answered, in great agitation, "If you do not make me to see with
my own eyes the truth of what you tell me, be assured that
I will make you wish you had been born dumb." — "This
would have been easy enough," replied the villain, "when he
came to your house: but now that you have driven him away
for a much lighter reason than that which ought to have
banished him thence, it will be difficult to prove it. For though
I think yet that he continues to enjoy Desdemona whenever you
give him an opportunity, he must necessarily proceed with greater
caution now than he did before he had incurred your displeasure.
But I do not despair of making you see that which upon my
word you will not believe." They then separated. The poor
Moor went home with a barbed arrow in his side, waiting impatiently for the day when the ensign should show him what was
to render him for ever miserable. But the known purity of Desdemona's conduct gave no less uneasiness to the villanous ensign,
because he was afraid he should not be able to convince thl




296


THE MOOR OF VENICE.


del Moro, come ho detto, a casa della moglie dell'
alfiero, e se ne stava con lei buona parte del giorno,
onde veggendo costui ch' ella talora portava seco un
pannicello da naso, ch' egli sapeva, che le avea donato
il Moro, il qual pannicello era lavorato alla moresca
sottilissimamente, ed era carissimo alla donna, e parimente al Moro, si pensb di torgliele secretamente, e
quindi apparecchiare 1' ultimo danno. E avendo egli
una fanciulla di tre anni, la quale era molto amata di
Disdemona, un giorno, che la misera donna a casa di
questo reo si era andata a stare, prese egli la fanciulla
in braccia, ed alla donna la pose: la quale la prese, e
la si recco al petto; questo ingannatore, che eccellentemente giocava di mano, le levb da cintola il pannicello cosi accortamente, ch' ella punto non se ne
avide, e da lei, tutto allegro, si diparti. Disdemona,
cib non sappendo, se ne andb a casa: e occupata da
altri pensieri, non si avide del pannicello. Ma, indi
ad alquanti giorni, cercandone, e nol ritrovando, stava
tutta timida, che il Moro con gliele chiedesse, come
egli sovente facea.   Lo scelerato alfiero, pigliatosi
commodo tempo, se ne andb al capo di squadra, e con
Moor of what he had so falsely assured him. He applied himself therefore to the invention of new malice, and devised other
expedients. I have already said that Desdemona went frequently
to the ensign's house, and passed great part of the day with his
wife. The villain had observed that she often brought with her
a handkerchief that the Moor had given her, and which, as it
was very delicately worked in the Moorish taste, was very highly
valued by them both; he determined to steal it, and by its means
complete her ruin. He had a little girl of three years old that
was much caressed by Desdemona; and one day, when that
unhappy woman was on a visit to this villain, he took up the
child in his arms and presented it to Desdemona, who received
it and pressed it to her bosom. In the same instant this deceiver
stole from her sash the handkerchief, with such dexterity that she
did not perceive him, and went away with it in very high spirits.
Desdemona went home, and, taken up with other thoughts, never
recollected her handkerchief till some days after; when, not being
able to find it, she began to fear that the Moor should ask her for




THE MOOR OF VENICE.


297


astuta malizia gli lascib il pannicello a capo del letto,
ne se ne avide il capo di squadra, se non la seguente
mattina, che levandosi dal letto, essendo il pannicello
caduto in terra, vi pose il piede sopra: ne sapendosi
imaginare, come in casa 1' avesse, conoscendolo cosa
di Disdemona, deliberb di dargliele: ed attendendo
che il Moro fosse uscito di casa, se ne andb all' uscio
di dietro, ed ivi picchib; volle la Fortuna, che parea,
che coll' alfiero congiurata si fosse alla morte della
meschina: che in quell' ora appunto, il Moro si venne
a casa: ed udendo picchiare I' uscio, si fece alla finestra?
e tutto cruccioso, disse, chi picchia la? I1 capo di squadra, udita la voce del Moro, temendo ch' egli non scendesse a danno suo, senza rispondere parola si diede a
fuggire. II Moro, scese le scale: e aperto 1' uscio, usci
nella strada, e cercando di lui nol ritrovb. Onde entrato in casa, pieno di mal talento, dimandb alla moglie,
chi fosse colui che la gil picchiava. La donna rispose
quel, che vero era, che nol sapeva.     Ma il Moro
disse, mi ha egli paruto il capo di squadra; Non so
io, disse ella, se sia stato ne egli, ne altri.  Rattenne
il Moro il furore, quantunque d' ira ardesse, ne prima
it, as he often did. The infamous ensign, watching his opportunity, went to the lieutenant, and, to aid his wicked purpose, left
the handkerchief on his bolster. The lieutenant did not find it
till the next morning, when, getting up, he set his foot upon it as
it had fallen to the floor. Not being able to imagine how it came
there, and knowing it to be Desdemona's, he determined to carry
it back to her; and, waiting till the Moor was gone out, he went
to the back-door and knocked. Fortune, who seemed to have
conspired along with the ensign the death of this poor woman,
brought the Moor home in the same instant. Hearing some one
knock he went to the window, and, much disturbed, asked, Who
is there? The lieutenant hearing his voice, and fearing that
when he came down he should do him some mischief, ran away
without answering. The Moor came down, and finding no one
either at the door or in the street, returned full of suspicion to
his wife, and asked if she knew who it was that had knocked.
She answered with great truth that she knew not. "But I
think," said he, "it was the lieutenant."-" It might be he,"




298


THE MOOR OF VENICE.


volle far cosa alcuna, che parlasse, coll' alfiero, al
quale subitamente se n' andb, e gli disse quanto era
occorso, e lo pregb ad intendere dal capo di squadra
tutto quello, ch' egli poteva intorno a cib. Egli, lieto
di cosi fatto avenimento, gli promise di farlo. E al
capo di squadra parlo un giorno costui, che il Moro
era in luogo, onde gli poteva vedere insieme ragionare.
E parlandogli di ogni altra cosa, che della donna,
faceva le maggiori risa del mondo: e mostrando di
maravigliarsi, facea di molti atti, e col capo, e colle
mani, come, che udisse cose maravigliose. II Moro,
tosto che gli vide partiti, andb verso 1' alfiero, per
saper cib che colui detto gli avesse.  Questo, dopo
aversi fatto lungamente pregare, al fin gli disse, non
mi ha egli celato cosa alcuna, e mi ha detto, che si
ha goduto della moglie vostra ogni volta, che voi coll'
esser fuori, gli ne avete dato tempo: e che 1' ultima
fiata, ehe egli e stato con lei, gli ha ella donato quel
pannicello da naso, che voi, quando la sposaste, le
deste in done. I1 Moro ringrazio 1' alfiero, e gli
parve, che se ritrovava, che la donna non avesse il
pannicello, potesse essere chiaro, che cosi fosse, come
said she, "or any one else." The Moor checked himself at
the time, though he was violently enraged, and determined to
take no step without first consulting the ensign. To him he
immediately went, and related what had just happened, begging
him to learn from the lieutenant what he could on the subject.
The ensign rejoiced much in this accident, and promised to do
so. He contrived to enter into discourse with him one day in
a place where the Moor might see them. He talked with him
on a very different subject, laughed much, and expressed by his
motions and attitudes very great surprise. The Moor as soon as
he saw them separate went to the ensign, and desired to know
what had passed between them. The ensign, after many solici.
tations, at last told him that he had concealed nothing from
him. He says he has enjoyed your wife every time that you
have stayed long enough from home to give him an opportunity;
and that in their last interview she had made him a present of
that handkerchief which you gave her. The Moor thanked
him, and thought that if his wife had no longer the handker.




THE MOOR OF VENICE.


299


gli avea detto 1' alfiero.  Per la qual cosa un giorno,
dopo desinare entrato invarj ragionamenti colla donna,
le chiese il pannicello. L' infelice che di questo avea
molto temuto, a tal dimanda, divenne nel visa tutta
fuoco; et per celare il rossore, il quale molto bene
noto il Moro, corse alla cassa, e finse di cercarlo. E
dope molto averlo cercato; non so, disse, com' ora
non lo ritrovi, 1' avreste voi forse avuto? s'avuto lo
avessi, disse egli, perche te lo chiederei io?  ma ne
cercherai pih agiatamente un' altra volta. Et partitosi
comincib a pensare, come devesse far morire la donna,
ed insieme il capo di squadra, si che a lui non fosse
data colpa della sua morte.   E pensando giorno, e
notte sopra cio, non poteva fare, che la donna non si
avedesse, ch' egli non era quegli, che verso lei, per
adietro essere soleva. E gli disse pib volte, che
cosa avete voi, che cosl vi turbi?  Voi che solevate
essere il piu festoso uomo del mondo, siete ora il
piu maninconico, che viva?   Trovava il Moro varie
cagioni di rispondere alla donna, ma non ne rimaneva
ella punto contenta. E posto, ch' ella sapesse, che
chief in her possession, it would be a proof that the ensign had
told him the truth. For which reason one day after dinner,
among other subjects, he asked her for this handkerchief. The
poor woman, who had long apprehended this, blushed excessively at the question, and, to hide her change of colour, which
the Moor had very accurately observed, ran to her wardrobe and
pretended to look for it.  After having searched for some
time, " I cannot conceive," said she, " what is become of it! have
not you taken it?"-" Had I taken it," replied he, "I should not
have asked you for it. But you may look for it another time
more at your ease." Leaving her then, he began to reflect what
would be the best way of putting to death his wife and the lieutenant, and how he might avoid being prosecuted for the murder.
Thinking night and day on this subject, he could not prevent
Desdemona from perceiving that his behaviour to her was very
different from what it had been formerly. She often asked him
what it was that agitated him so violently. You, who were once
the merriest man alive, are now the most melancholy. The Moor
answered and alleged a variety of reasons, but she was not satis



300


THE MOOR OF VENICE.


per niuno suo misfatto non devesse essere coi turbato
il Moro, dubitava nondimeno, che per la tropa copia,
ch' egli aveva di lei, non gli fosse venuta a noia. E
talora diceva colla moglie dell' alfiero, in non so, che
mi dica io del Moro, egli soleva essere verso me tutto
amore, ora, da non so che pochi giorni in qua, e divenuto un' altro: e temo molto di non essere io quella,
che dia essempio alle giovani di non maritarsi contra
il voler de' suoi; che da me le donne Italiane imparino,
di non si accompagnare con uomo, cui la natura, e il
Cielo, e il modo della vita disgiunge da noi. Ma
perche io so, ch' egli e molto amico del vostro marito,
e communica con lui le cose sue: vi prego, che se
avete intesa cosa alcuna da lui, della quale mi possiate
avisare, che non mi manchiate di aiuto, e tutto cib le
diceva dirottamente piangendo; la moglie dell' alfiero,
che tutto sapeva, (come colei, cui il marito aveva
voluto usare per mezzana alla morte della donna) ma
non l'aveva ella mai voluto acconsentire, e temendo
del marito, non ardiva di dirle cosa alcuna; solo le
disse, abbiate cura di non dare di voi sospetto al
fied with any of them; and knowing that she had done nothing
to justify so much agitation, she began to fear that he grew tired
of her. She once in conversation with the ensign's wife expressed
herself thus: "I know not what to say of the Moor; he used to
treat me most affectionately; and I begin to fear that my example
will teach young women never to marry against their parents'
consent, and the Italians in particular, not to connect themselves
with men from whom they are separated by nature, climate, education, and complexion. But as I know him to be the confidential
of your husband, whom he consults on all occasions, I intreat
you, if you have heard anything that might explain this mystery
and be of use to me, not to deny me your assistance." These
words were accompanied with a flood of tears.
The ensign's wife, who knew all (as her husband had in vain
endeavoured to prevail upon her to become an accomplice in the
murder of Desdemona), but durst tell her nothing for fear of her
husband, only said, "Take care not to give the Moor any cause
for suspicion, and do all in your power to convince him of your
affection and fidelity.'-" Why, so I do," said she, "but to




THE MOOR OF VENICE '


301


marito, e cercate con ogni studio, ch' egli in voi conosca amore, e fede; cib faccio io, disse ella, ma nulla
mi giova. II Moro, in questo mezzo tempo, cercava
tutta via di piu certificarsi di quello, che non avrebbe
voluto ritrovare: e pregb 1' alfiero, che operasse di
modo che potesse vedere il pannicello in podestt del
capo di squadra: e bench& cib fosse grave al malvagio,
gli promise nondimeno di usare ogni diligenza, perche
egli di cib si certificasse. Aveva il capo di squadra
una donna in casa, che maravigliosi trapunti faceva
sulla tela di rensa, la quale veggendo quel pannicello,
ed intendendo, ch' era della donna del Moro, e ch'
era per esserle reso, prima ch' ella 1' avesse, si mise a
fame un simile: e mentre ella cib faceva, s' avide 1'
alfiero, ch' ella appresso uno finestra si stava, e da
chi passava per la strada poteva essere veduta, onde
fece egli cib veder al Moro, il quale tenne certissimo
che 1' onestissima donna fosse in fatto adultera;
E conchiuse coll' alfiero, di uccidere lei, ed il capo
di squadra, trattando ambidue tra loro come cio si
devesse fare lo prego il Moro, ch' egli volesse essere
no purpose."  The Moor, in the meantime, did all in his
power to prove what he desired not to find true, and begged
the ensign to make him see the handkerchief in possession
of the lieutenant. Although this was a difficult undertaking,
yet the villain promised to do all in his power to give him a
satisfactory proof of this. The lieutenant had a woman in the
house, who was a notable embroiderer in muslin, and who,
struck with the beauty of Desdemona's handkerchief, determined to copy it before it should be returned to her. She set
about making one like it, and while she was at work, the ensign
discovered that she sat at a window where any one who passed
in the street might see her. This he took care to point out to
the Moor, who was then fully persuaded that his chaste and
innocent wife was an adulteress. He agreed with the ensign to
kill both her and the lieutenant; and, consulting together about
the means, the Moor intreated him to undertake the assassination of the officer, promising never to forget so great an obligation. He refused, however, to attempt what was so very difficult
and dangerous, as the lieutenant was equally brave and vigilant;




302


THE MOOR OF VENICE., quegli, che il capo di squadra uccidesse, promettendo di restargliele obligato eternamente.     E
ricusando egli di voler far cosa tale come malagevolissima, e di molto pericolo, per essere il capo di
squadra non meno accorto, che valoroso, dopo molto
averlo pregato, datagli buona quantita di danari, lo
indusse a dire, che proverebbe di tentar la fortuna.
Fatta questa resoluzione, uscendo una sera il capo di
squadra di casa di una meretrice, colla quale egli si
sollazzava, essendo la notte buia, gli si accost   1'
alfiero colla spada in mano, e gli dirizzb un colpo
alle gambe, per farlo cadere, ed avenne, ch' egli
taglib la destra coscia 'a traverso, onde il misero
cadde: e gli fu addosso 1' alfiero, per finire di
ucciderlo.   Ma avendo    il capo di squadra, che
coraggioso era, e avezzo nel sangue, e nelle morti,
tratta la spada, e, cosi ferito come egli era, dirizzatosi
alla difesa, gridb ad alta voce; io sono assassinato.
Per la qual cosa, sentendo 1' alfiero correr gente, ed
alquanti de' soldati, ch' ivi attorno erano alloggiati,
si mise a fuggire, per non vi essere colto: e, data
but with much entreaty and considerable presents, he was prevailed on to say that he would hazard the experiment. One
dark night, after taking this resolution, he observed the lieutenant coming out of the house of a female libertine where he
usually passed his evenings, and assaulted him sword in hand.
He struck at his legs with a view of bringing him to the ground
and with the first blow cut him quitethrough the right thigh. The
poor man instantly fell, and the ensign ran to him to put him to
death. But the lieutenant, who was courageous, and familiar with
wounds and slaughter, having drawn his sword notwithstanding
his desperate situation, and raised himself for defence, cried out
Murder as loud as he could. The ensign, perceiving that some
people were coming, and that the soldiers quartered thereabouts
had taken the alarm, fled for fear of being caught, and, turning about again pretended likewise that he had been brought
there by the noise.  Placing himself among the rest, and
seeing that the leg was cut off, he concluded that though
he was not dead, he must die of this wound: and, although
he was exceedingly rejoiced at all this, yet he condoled with




THE MOOR OF VENICE.


3o3


una volta, fe vista anch' egli di essere corso al romore.
E ponendosi tra gli altri, vedutagli mozza la gamba,
giudicb che se bene non era morto, morirebbe ad
ogni modo di quel colpo; e, quantunque fosse di
cib  lietissimo, si dolse  nondimeno     col capo    di
squadra, come s' egli suo fratello fosse stato.     La
mattina la cosa si sparse per tutta la citth, ed andb
anche alle orecchie di Disdemona, onde ella, ch'
amorevole era, e non pensava ch' indi le devesse
avenir male, mostrb di aver grandissimo dolore di
cosi fatto caso; di cib fece il Maro pessimo concetto.
E andb a ritrovar 1' alfiero, e gli disse; Tu sai bene,
che 1' asina di mia moglie e in tanto affanno, per lo
caso del capo di squadra, ch' ella e per impazzare.
E come potevate, disse egli, pensar altrimente, essendo
colui 1' anima sua? Anima sua, eh? replicb il Moro,
io le trarrb ben' io 1' anima del corpo, che mi terrei
non essere uomo, se non togliessi dal mondo questa
malvagia. E discorrendo 1' uno cou 1' altro, se di
veleno, o di coltello si devea far morir la donna, ne
accettandosi questo, ne quello da loro, disse 1' alfiero
the lieutenant as much as if he had been his brother. The
next morning this accident was spread all over the city, and came
to the ears of Desdemona, who being very compassionate,
and not suspecting that this could occasion mischief to herself,
expressed the greatest concern for the lieutenant's misfortune.
The Moor drew from hence the worst of inferences, and said to
the ensign, "You must know that my simpleton of a wife is
almost mad with sorrow for the lieutenant's accident."-" How
could it be otherwise," said he, "as he is her life and soul?"" How," said the Moor, " her life and her soul! I will separate
her soul from her body. I should disgrace my manhood if I
killed her not." And discoursing together if poison or the
dagger would be best, and not liking either the one or the other,
the ensign said, "' A method has occurred to me that would satisfy
you without creating the least suspicion. The house where you
live is very old, and the ceiling of your chamber is broken in
many places. Desdemona might be beaten to death with a
stocking full of sand, and no marks of this would remain on the
body: when she is dead we will pull down a part of the ceiling,




304


THE MOOR OF VENICE.


un modo mi e egli venuto nella mente, che vi sodisfara, e non se ne avr. sospetto alcuno; ed egli e tale.
La casa, ove voi state, k vecchissima, e il palco della
camera vostra ha di molte fessure; voglio, che
con una calza piena di rena percuotiamo Disdemona, tanto ch' ella ne muoia, perche non appaia
in lei segno alcuno di battitura: morta, ch' ella
sara, faremo cadere parte del palco, e romperemo il
capo alla donna, fingendo, che una trave nel cadere
rotto gliel' abbia, ed uccisa: e, a questo modo, non
sara persona, che di voi pigli sospetto alcuno, stimando
ognuno la sua morte essere venuta a caso. Piacque
al Moro, il crudel consiglio: e, aspettato il tempo,
che convenevole gli parve, essendo egli una notte con
lei nel letto, ed avendo gia nascoso 1' alfiero in un
camerino, che nella camera entrava, 1' alfiero, secondo
1' ordine tra lor dato, fe non so che strepito nel
camerino: e, sentitolo, subitamente disse il Moro alla
moglie; hai tu sentito quello strepito? L' ho sentito,
disse ella; levati soggiunse il Moro, e vedi che cosa e.
Levosi l'infelice Disdemona: e, tosto ch' ella fu apand bruise your wife's head; then give out that a beam in falling
has done this, and killed her. If you follow this advice you will
avoid all suspicion, and every one will believe her death to have
been accidental." This savage advice pleased the Moor; and
waiting for a convenient opportunity, he concealed the ensign one
nightin a closet that communicated withtheir chamber. When they
were in bed, the ensign, according to his instruction, made a noise
in the closet, and the Moor immediately asked his wife if she
had heard it?  She answered Yes.-" Get up, then, and see
what it is." Poor Desdemona obeyed, and as soon as she was
near the closet-door the ensign rushed out, and with the stocking that he had prepared gave her a violent blow on the
small of the back. She fell down scarce able to breathe; but
with what little force she had, she called the Moor to her
assistance. He got out of bed and said to her, " Most infamous
woman, you are now to receive the just reward of your infidelity!
-even so are those wives treated who, pretending to love their
husbands, are untrue to their beds." The poor woman hearing
these words, and feeling that she was ready to expire from a second




THE MOOR OF VENICE.


3o5


presso il camerino, n' usci 1 alfiero, il quale, essendo
forte, e di buon nerbo, colla calza, che in punto aveva,
le diede una crudel percossa, nel mezzo della schiena,
onde la donna subito cadde, senza poter trarne appena
fuori il fiato.  Ma con quella poca voce, che pote
avere, chiamb il Moro, che 1' aiutasse; ed egli, uscito
del letto, le disse, Sceleratissma donna, la mercede
hai della tua disonesta, costi si trattano quelle, che
fingendo di amare i loro mariti, pongono loro le corno
ie coma in capo. La misera donna, cib udendo, e
sentendosi giunta al fine (perb che 1' alfiero un' altro
colpo dato le avea) disse, che in testimonio della sua
fede, ella chiamava la giustizia divina, poi, che quella
del mondo le veniva meno; e chiamando ella Iddio,
che 1' aiutasse, sopragiungendo la terza percossa,
rimase uccisa dall' empio alfiero. Poscia, messala
nel letto, e spezzatale la testa, fecero egli, e il Moro,
cadere come aveano ordinato fra loro il palco della
camera, e comincib il Moro a chiamare soccorso, che
la casa cadeva, alla voce del quale corsero i vicini, e
scoperto il letto, trovarono la donna sotto le travi
blow that the ensign had given her, said, "That, since the
justice of this world was refused her, she attested the Divine
Justice in favour of her honour and her truth;" and invoking
the Divine Assistance, she was finished by the impious ensign,
who struck a third time. Afterwards they placed her in bed;
and after breaking her skull, they drew down, as they had determined beforehand, a part of the.ceiling. The Moor then called
out for help, as the house was falling. The neighbours on this
alarm ran thither, and found Desdemona dead under the beams.
Her life had been so virtuous that every one lamented her fate;
and the following day she was buried, to the great sorrow of the
whole island. But God, who is a just observer of the hearts of
men, suffered not so great a crime to pass without the punishment that was due to it. So that the Moor, who had loved
Desdemona more than his eyes, finding himself deprived of her,
began to regret her so extremely, that he almost lost his senses,
and went about the house looking for her in every room. Reflecting besides that the ensign had been the cause of his losing
along with her all the enjoyments of life, and even his own
VOL. II.                                    U




306


THE MOOR OF VENICE.


morta. La qual cosa, per la buona vita della donna,
increbbe ad ognuno. II giorno seguente fh Disdemona sepelita, con universal dolore di quel popolo.
Ma non voile Iddio, giusto riguardatore delle anime
altrui, che cosi gran sceleragine se ne rimanesse senza
la dicevole pena. Imperb, che il Moro, che la donna
aveva amato pih, che gliocchi suoi, veggendosene privo,
comincib ad avere tanto desiderio di lei, che 1' andava,
come fuori di se, cercando per tutti i luoghi della casa: e
considerando tra se, che 1' alfiero era stato cagione, ch' egli
avesse perduto, colla sua donna, tutto il dolce della
vita, ed anco se medesimo; gli venne lo scelerato in
tanto odio, che non aveva occhio, col quale vedere lo
potesse: se non avesse avuto timore della inviolabile
giustizia de' Signori Veneziani, 1' avrebbe palesemente
ucciso. Ma non potendo far questo, con sua salvezza,
gli levb la insegna, e pitt non voile nella compagina,
onde nacque tanta aspra nimicizia tra 1' uno, e 1' altro,
che non si potrebbe imaginare la maggiore, ne la piut
grave. Per la qual cosa 1' alfiero, peggiore di tutti gli
scelerati, voltb tutto il pensiero a danni del Moro. E
faculties, that villain became so insupportable to him, that he
could not bear the sight of him; and had he not feared the strict
and impartial justice of the Venetians, he would have put him
openly to death. But not being able to do this with safety to
himself, he degraded him from his commission, and permitted
him no longer to remain in the company. Hence arose between them the most bitter enmity that can be conceived; and the
ensign, the greatest of all villains, studied only how he might be
revenged on the Moor. He went to the lieutenant, who was
cured and walked about with his wooden leg, and said to him,
"The time is now come when you may be revenged for the loss
of your leg; and if you will come with me to Venice, I will tell
you who the assassin was. Here I dare not inform you for
many reasons; but there I will be your witness in a court of
justice." The lieutenant, who felt himself violently exasperated
against the person, though unknown to him, thanked the
ensign, and came away with him to Venice. When they
were arrived, the ensign told him that the Moor was the
person who had cut off his leg, because he suspected him




THE MOOR OF VENICE.


3"7


ritrovato il capo di squadra, che gi& era risanato, e
con una gamba di legno se n' andava in vece della
tagliata, gli disse; Venuto e il tempo, che tu possi far
vendetta della tua tagliata gamba: e quando tu vuoi
venire con esso meco a Venezia, io ti dirb, chi e
stato il malfattore, che qul non ardirei di dirloti, per
molti rispetti: ed io ne farb, per te, testimonio in guidizio. I1 capo di squadra, che si ritrovava fieramente
offeso, e non sapeva perch[; ringrazib 1' alfiero, e seco
a Venezia se ne venne. Ove giunti, che furono, egli
gli disse, che il Moro era stato quegli, che gli avea
tagliato la gamba, per opinione, che gli era nata nella
testa, che egli si giacesse con Disdemona: e che per
questa medesima cagione egli aveva ucciso lei, e
poscia data voce, che il palco caduto ucciso 1' avesse.
I1 capo di squadra, inteso cio, accusb il Moro alia
Signoria, e della gamba a lui tagliata, e della morte
della donna, ed indusse per testimonio i' alfiero, il
quale disse; che 1' uno, e 1' altro era vero, perche
il Moro aveva tutto communicato seco, e       ' avea
voluto indurre a fare 1 uno, e 1 altro maleficio:
of adultery with his wife, and that for the same reason he
had murdered her, and afterwards given out that she had been
killed by the ceiling's falling in upon her. The lieutenant
on hearing this, immediately accused the Moor before the
Council of the injury done to himself and the murder of Desdemdna; and the ensign being called as a witness, asserted
the truth of both these accusations, and added that the Moor
had communicated to him the whole project, with a view of persuading him to execute both these crimes; and when he had
murdered his wife from the impulse of a furious jealousy, he had
related to him the manner in which he had put her to death.
The Venetian magistrates hearing that one of their fellow-citizens
had been treated with so much cruelty by a barbarian, had the
Moor arrested in Cyprus and brought to Venice, where, by means
of the torture, they endeavoured to find out the truth. But the
Moor possessed force and constancy of mind sufficient to undergo
the torture without confessing any thing; and though by his
firmness he escaped death at this time, he was, after a long
imprisonment, condemned to perpetual exile, in which he was




308


THE MOOR OF VENICE.


e che, avendo poscia ucciso la moglie, per bestial
gelosia, che gli era nata nel capo, gli avea narrato
la maniera, ch' egli avea tenuto in darle morte.
I Signori Veneziani, intesa la crudelta, usata dal Barbaro, in una lor cittadina, fecero dar delle mani
addosso al Moro in Cipri, e condurlo a Venezia, e con
molti tormenti cercarono di ritrovare il vero. Ma vincendo egli col valore dell' animo, ogni martorio, il
tutto negb, cosi constantemente, che non se ne pote
mai trarre cosa alcuna. Ma se bene, per la sua constanza, egli schifb la morte, non fu perb, che dopo
essere stato molti giorni in prigione, non fosse dannato
a perpetuo esilio, nel quale finalmente fh da' parenti
della donna, com' egli meritava, ucciso. Andb 1' alfiero
alia sua patria: e non volendo egli mancare del suo
costume, accuso un suo compagno, dicendo, ch' egli
ricercato lo avea di ammazzare un suo nimico, che
gentiluomo era, per la qual cosa fu preso colui, e messo
al martorio: e negando egli esser vero, quanto dicea
P' accusatore, fh messo al martorio anco 1' alfiero per
paragone. Ove, fu talmente collato che gli si corropero le interiora: onde, uscito di prigione, e condotto a
casa, miseramente se ne mori; tal fece Iddio vendetta
della innocenza di Disdemona.    E tutto questo successo narrb la moglie dell' alfiero, del fatto consapevole, poi ch' egli fu morto, come io lo vi ho narrato.
afterwards killed, as he deserved to be, by his wife's relations.
The ensign returned to his country, where, still continuing his
old practices, he accused one of his companions of having attempted to murder a nobleman who was his enemy. The man
was taken up and put to the torture, and, denying firmly the
crime laid to his charge, his accuser was also put to the torture;
where he was racked so violently that his vitals were injured,
and upon being conducted home he died in great agony. Thus
was the divine vengeance executed against those who had murdered the innocent Desdemona.
The ensign's wife, who had been informed of the whole affair,
after his death thus circumstantially related the story.




KING LEAR.




IN the narratives hereinafter printed, it will be perceived that
the conclusion of the story essentially varies from Shakespeare's
play. Both in the foundation-drama, which is included in the
Second Part, and in La3amou, Geoffrey of Monmouth, the
"Gesta Romanorum," and Holinshed, the old British monarch
returns to the enjoyment of his kingdom, and everything is
amicably settled. The tragical catastrophe in Shakespeare's
" Lear" is the poet's own creation,




JNTR ODUCTION


THE following productions relate to Shakespeare's
"King Lear" which, as our readers may be aware,
was three times printed in I608, and was, perhaps,
produced in I605. The narrative, "How Queen
Cordila in despair slew herself, the year before
Christ 8oo," is taken from the fourth edition of that
celebrated work, "The Mirror for Magistrates." The
particular portion here reprinted was written by John
Higgins, who dates his dedication "At Winceham
the 7. day of December. I586." There is nothing to
connect Shakespeare's tragedy particularly with this
specimen of supposed autobiography, but there can
be little doubt that he was well acquainted with so
popular a performance as " The Mirror for Magistrates," which went through various editions prior to
the year I61o, when it appeared, with a continuation
by Richard Nicols. Higgins would seem to have
been the first (Harding in his Chronicle excepted)
who put the story of Lear and his daughters into
verse; and he was followed in 159o by Spenser, who
briefly introduces the chief circumstances into his
"Faerie Queene," Book II., Canto io. What is headed
"Lenvoy," in our reprint from Higgins, is not found
in the edition of 16io: it certainly is no necessary
portion of the poem, but we have transferred it to
our pages from the impression of 1587, for the sake




312


INTROD UCTION.


of completeness. We may add, that the reprint of
"The Mirror for Magistrates," in I6io, affords
several various readings of some importance; thus,
stanza 7 there begins" He had three daughters faire, the first hight Gonerell;"
stanza I7 opens as follows:" Betwixt their husbands twaine they causde him to agree
To part the realme," &c.
and the first line of stanza I8 is this:
" As thus in his distress he lay lamenting fates."
Other differences may be seen by a comparison of
the text we have supplied from the earlier impression,
and it is not necessary here to dwell upon them
farther. Warner's "Albion's England," Book III.,
c. r4, also contains the history of Lear and his
daughters, the youngest of whom he names Cordella:
Spenser softened it to Cordelia; and as far as we
now know, Shakespeare first altered the spelling of
Leir (as it is printed in the older play, and in other
authorities) to Lear.
The "Story of the Paphlagonian unkind King"
has been considered, and with much appearance of
probability, the origin of the episode of Gloster and
his sons in the same tragedy.  It is from Sir Philip
Sidney's "Arcadia," a work which, it is demonstrable
from other plays, Shakespeare had diligently read,
even if, without such proof, we could suppose him
ignorant of a production of such extraordinary
celebrity. Sidney having been killed in 1586, the
"Arcadia " was a posthumous production, which first
came out in 4~ in 1590. This impression is generally
called "imperfect," and there is no doubt that in
I593 a more complete edition was published in folio,
in which the three books of the 4~, I59o, with addi



INTRODUCTION.


3t3


tions, were divided into five books, and the enumeration and separation of chapters omitted.  It is
believed that Sir P. Sidney's sister, the Countess of
Pembroke, arranged and superintended the folio of
1593; but the poems called "Astrophel and Stella"
were not added until I598, although most of them
had been surreptitiously printed in I591, under the
editorial care of the celebrated Thomas Nash, who
prefixed to them a very interesting epistle, which
may be seen at length on p. xxi. of the Introduction
to the reprint of his " Pierce Penniless," 1592, by the
Shakespeare Society..
The principal differences between the 4~, 1590, and
the folio, I593, of the " Arcadia," consist in the
obvious want of a conclusion to the former, and in
the misarrangement of the many poems inserted in
various parts of the work. The tale we have furnished
from it, chap. Io, Book II., of the 4~ impression, is
precisely the same (orthography excepted) in all the
editions, the Countess of Pembroke not having
thought it fit to add or to alter anything. Upon the
resemblances between it and the incidents in which
Gloster and his sons are engaged in " King Lear" we
need not dwell; but although Shakespeare adopted
the circumstances, it was evidently necessary that he
should change the names.




i.  The Account of Lear, Tenth
Ruler of Britain.
[From HOLINSHED, ed. I807, i. 44-68.1]
-— o
Ler The    EIR the sonne of Baldud was admitted ruler
Mat Weste  L  ouer the Britaines, in the yeare of the world
isbuilded. 3105, at what time Ioas reigned in Iuda. This Leir
was a prince of right noble demeanour, gouerning
his land and subiects in great wealth. He made the
towne of Caelier now called Leicester, which standeth
vpon the riuer of Sore. It is written that he had by
his wife three daughters without other issue, whose
names were Gonorilla, Regan, and Cordeilla, which
daughters he greatly loued, but specially Cordeilla
the yoongest farre aboue the two elder. When this
Gal. Mon. Leir therefore was come to great yeres, and began to
waxe vnweldie through age, he thought to vnderstand the affections of his daughters towards him, and
preferre hir whome he best loued to the succession
Mr Furnivall has reminded me that the most ancient
account of Lear in English is that in La3amou's "Brut," edit.
Maddon, i. 123-58. There is the utmost improbability that
Shakespeare ever saw it.




THE HISTORY OF LEAR.


315


ouer the kingdome. Whervpon he first asked Gonorilla the eldest, how well she loued him: who calling
hir gods to record, protested that she loued him
more than hir owne life, which by right and reason
should be most ddere vnto hir. With which answer A triall of
the father being well pleased, turned to the second, ove
and demanded of hir how well she loued him: who
answered (confirming hir saieings with great othes)
that she loued him more than toong could expresse,
and farre aboue all other creatures of the world.
Then called he his yoongest daughter Cordeilla
before him, and asked of hir what account she made
of him, vnto whome she made this answer as followeth:-Knowing the great loue and fatherlie zeale The answer
that you have alwaies borne towards me (for theftheest
which I maie not answere you otherwise than I daughter
thinke, and as my conscience leadeth me) I protest
vnto you, that I have loued you euer, and will continuallie (while I liue) loue you as my naturall father.
And if you would more vnderstand of the loue that
I beare you, assertaine your selfe, that so much as you
haue, so much you are woorth, and so much I loue
you, and no more. The father being nothing content with this answer, married his two eldest daughters, Tde5two
the one vnto Henninus the duke of Cornewall, and daghter
the other vnto Maglanus the duke of Albania, betwixt ried
whome he willed and ordeined that his land should
be divided after his death, and the one halfe thereofTl eealme
immediatlie should be assigned to them in hand:tosstwobut for the third daughter Cordeilla he reserved nothing.
Neuertheless it fortuned that one of the princes of
Gallia (which now is called France) whose name was
Aganippus, hearing of the beautie, womanhood, and
good conditions of the said Cordeilla, desired to
have hir in mariage, and sent ouer to hir father, requiring that he might haue hir to wife, to whome answer




316


THE HISTORY OF LEAR.


was made, that he might haue his daughter, but as for
anie dower he could have none, for all was promised
and assured to hir other sisters alreadie. Aganippus
notwithstanding this answer of deniall to receive anie
thing by way of dower with Cordeilla, tooke hir to
wife, onlie moued thereto (I saie) for respect of hir
person and amiable fvertues. This Aganippus was
one of the twelve kings that ruled Gallia in those
daies, as in the British historie it is recorded. But
to proceed.
He tgirned  After that Leir was fallen into age, the two dukes
Gallif  that had married his two eldest daughters, thinking. Mon. it long yer the gouernment of the land did come to
sath.  their hands, arose against him in armour, and reft from
him the gouernance of the land, vpon conditions to
be continued for terme of life: by the which he was
put to his portion, that is, to lue after a rate assigned
to him for the maintenance of his estate, which in
processe of time was diminished as well by Maglanus
as by Henninus. But the greatest griefe that Leir
tooke, was to see the vnkindnesse of his daughters,
which seemed to thinke that all was too much which
their father had, the same being neuer so little: in so
much that going from the one to the other, he was
brought to that miserie, that scarslie they would allow
him one seruant to wait vpon him.
In the end, such was the vnkindnesse, or (as I
maie saie) the vnnaturalnesse which he found in his
two daughters, notwithstanding their faire and pleasant words vttered in time past, that being constrained of necessitie, he fled the land, and sailed
into Gallia, there to seeke some comfort of his
yongest daughter Cordeilla, whom before time he
hated. The ladie Cordeilla hearing that he was
arriued in poore estate, she first sent to him priuilie a
certeine summe of monie to apparell himselfe withall,
and to reteine a certeine number of seruants that




THE HISTORY OF LEAR.


317


might attend vpon him in honorable wise, as apperteined to the estate which he had borne: and then
so accompanied, she appointed him to come to the
court, which he did, and was so ioifullie, honorablie,
and louinglie receiued, both by his sonne in law
Aganippus, and also by his daughter Cordeilla, that
his hart was greatlie comforted: for he was no lesse
honored, than if he had beene king of the whole
countrie himselfe.
Now when he had informed his sonne in law and
his daughter in what sort he had bdene vsed by his
other daughters Aganippus caused a mightie armie
to be put in readinesse, and likewise a great nauie of
ships to be rigged, to passe ouer into Britaine with
Leir his father in law, to see him againe restored to
his kingdome.
It was accorded, that Cordeilla should also go with
him to take possession of the land, the which he promised to leaue vnto hir, as the rightful inheritour
after his decesse, notwithstanding any former grant
made to hir sisters or to their husbands in anie
maner of wise.
Herevpon, when this armie and nauie of ships
were readie, Leir and his daughter Cordeilla with hir
husband took the sea, and arriuing in Britaine, fought
with their enimies, and discomfited them in battell,
in the which Maglanus and Henninus were slaine:
and then was Leir restored to his Kingdome, which
he ruled after this by the space of two yeeres, and
then died, fortie yeeres after he first began to reigne.
His body was buried at Leicester in a vaut vnder
the chancell of the riuer of Sore beneath the towne.




2. The Story of Lear, King of Britain.
[From the Gesta Romanorum, edit. Madden, p. 450-3.]
0o[LXXIX.]
EYRE was some tyme kynge of Bretayne the
More, that now is callede Englonde. This
kynge Leyre made the towne of Leycetur, ande callede
it after his name Leycetur. This kynge hade thre
doughters; the name of the fyrste doughter was
Gonorylle; the seconde was Regane; the thride Cordelle, that was beste taughte, and wiseste. Leyre,
here fadre, was feble ande olde, ande wolde marie
his doughters or he deyede, but fyrste he woulde wete,
which louede hym moste, shulde be beste mariede.
On a day he askide his eldiste doughter, how mych she
louyd hyme? " Sir," she seide, " I loue you as mych
as myne owne lyfe." "For sothe," seide the kynge,
<" that is a grete loue; I may no more aske." Then
he askede the seconde doughter, how mych she
louyde hyme? She sayde, she louyde hyme aboue
alle criatures of the worlde. "For sothe," seide
Leyre, "' I may no more aske." Then he askede of
the yongeste doughter, how much she louyde hyme?
"Sir," she seide, "my systers hane seide to you




THE HISTORY OF LEAR.


316


wordes of glosynge, but I say to you trouthe. I love
you as mych as I owe to loue my fadire, ande for to
make you more certayne how mych loue is worthe, I
shalle say you, as mych as ye hane, so mych are ye
worthe, ande so mych I loue you." Leyre wenyde
that she had skornede, ande was wrothe, ande seide,
that she shulde neuer haue lande of hyme; but his
othere doughters, that mych louyde'hyme, shulde depart the lande betwene hemi, be euyne porcyons, ande
she shulde be disheriede. Ande he mariede the
eldiste doughter to Managles, the kynge of Scotlonde;
and the tothere to Hanemos, erie of Cornwaylle;
ande the mariage was thus made of the tone ande of
the tothere, that kynge of Scottes and the erie of Cornwayle shulde departe Grete Bretayne, aftere his dissesse, so that 1 Cordelle, his yongest dougter, shulde
not haue of his. This maydyne Cordelle was so fayre,
and so wele taughte, that it was mervayle, so that
Agape, kynge of Fraunce, herde speke so grete of
this maydyne Cordelle, that he sente to kynge Leyre,
that he wolde gyfe hym here to wife. Leyre sente
worde agayne, that he hade departede his lande bytwene his ij. eldiste doughters; and so he hade no
more lande, the which he myght marie Cordelle, his
yongeste doughter, with. Whei Agape herde this
answere, he sente agayne to Leyre, and seide, he
askede no thinge with here, but alonly here bodie,
and here clothinge. And Leyre, here fadre, made
here wele to be arrayede, and clenly, and sent here
to the kynge of Fraunce; ande he ioyfully ressayuede
here, and weddide here, with grete worship, ande
made here queene of Fraunce. The kynge of Scottes
ande the erie of Cornwayle, that hade weddide the 2
eldiste doughters of kynge Leyre, wolde not abide
tille after his dethe for to haue the londe, but werrede


1 That, with MS.


2 His, MS.




320


THE HISTORY OF LEAR.


harde vppof hyme, ande putt hym in so grete distresse, that they tokene so awaye the reawme; but oh
this wise they ordeynede betwix hem, that the toone
of hem shulde witholde hyme in soiorne alle his lyfe,
with xl. knyghtis, and here squyers, that he myght
worshipfully go to what partie he wolde.  Managles, kynge of Scottes, resseyuede with hym Leyre in
the manere afore seide; ande or a yere were passede,
Gonorelle, the wife, ande doughter of Leyre, was so
anoyede and dissesed of hyme ande of his meany,
that she spake to here housbonde, that x. knyghtes
and here squyers shuld be putt from here fadire.
Leyre he come 1 right heuy, and his meany, that that
was putt away, ande his state apayrede, therfore mef
hadde hyme in the lesse reuerence; wherfore he
thought to go into Cornwaylle, for to preve Regane,
his other doughter. Ande when he was comyne to
here, the erle ande his doughter resseyuede hym with
grete solempnite, and helde hyme with hem, with his
thretty knyghtes ande his squyers; but he hade
skarsly dwellede there a yere, but that his doughter
was yrke of hyme and of his meany, that here housbonde ande she helde hyme in so grete vyolete ande
represse, that of thretty knyghtes ande here squyeres
they putt hyme vnto oone alone. Thafi was Leyre
more sorowfulle than euer he was before, and seide,
" Alas I that euer I was borne, for now ame I more
vile thef euer I was before. Yette it hade bene
better to haue dwellede stille with my fyrste doughter."
Ande wente agayne into Scotlonde, to his eldyste
doughter. But whei the kynge ande his wife sawe
that, ande the myschefe of Leyre, they ressayuede
hyme, ande tokyne away the knyght, and putt to hym
a squyere. Thefn was Leyre more sorowfulle thef
euer he was before, ande begane gretly for to sorowe,
Become.




TIHE HISTORY OF LEAR.


321


ande pleyne hyme piteously, ande seide, "Alas!
alas 1 I haue leuyde to longe, that.it is fallen to me;
now ame I pore that was wonte to haue so mekille;
now haue I no frende ne kynne that wil me goode.
Cordelle, my doughter, seide me fulle wele, ande that
I haue now fowndyne; for she seide me as mych as
I hade, so mych was I worthe, ande so mych louyde
shulde I be. Now wote I wele, that myn othere
doughters haue faterede me; now they take no force.
Now behouys me for nede to go ande proffere myne
yongeste doughter Cordelle, to whome I wolde gyfe
no lande ne tenemente, for she seide she louyde
me 'als mekille as she ought to loue here fadre."
Ande on this maner pleyned longe.   Ande atte
laste he wente ouere the see, with his squyere,
ande come into Fraunce; and he askede where the
queene shulde be fowndyne, ande mefi tolde hyme.
He come to the cite, ande sente his squyere to the
queene, for to saye here, that here fadre was comyne
for nede, for to gete some goode ande helpe of here.
The squyere wente, ande tolde in ordre to the queene,
how his ij. doughters had lefte hyme. Cordelle, the
queene, toke golde ande syluer grete plente, ande
toke it to the squyere, and seide to hyme in cownsaylle, that he shulde bere that tresoure to here fadre,
ande that he shulde go to some goode towne, ande
araye hyme richely of rialle clothinge, with-holdynge
with hyme xlti knyghtes of oone liveraye; ande when
he were redye, he shulde sende vnto the kynge, here
lorde, that he was comyne to speke with hyme, ande
to se his doughter. The squyere commaundide the
queene to Gode, ande come to Leyre, his lorde, ande
toke to hyme his tresoure, and seide his message.
Wherfore Leyre wente ferre thense to anothere cite,
ande dide after the ordynaunce of his doughter; ande
afterwarde he come to the kynge, there he soiournede
with his wife. Leyre sente to the kynge of Fraunce,
VOL. II.                             X




322


THE HISTORY OF LEAR.


and tolde Cordelle, his doughter, that he was comyne
into Fraunce, for to speke with herm.  When the
kynge herde this, he commaundide alle his men to
take here horse; ande the queene also commaundide
alle here tmen to take here horse; and alle they
riddene to-gedre. The kynge and the queene come
with a grete worship agayne hyme, and ressayuede
hyme with grete nobley. The kynge commaundide
throw alle his reawme, that alle shulde be intendaunte
to kynge Leyre, the fadre of his wife, as to hyme selfe.
Whefi Leyre hade dwellede there with the kynge of
Fraunce a monethe, he tolde the kynge ande the
queen how his ij. doughters hade seruede hyme.
Wherfore kynge Agape assemblede a grete powere of
folke, and sente hem with Leyre in to Bretayne;
ande Cordelle, his doughter, come with hyme, for to
haue the londe after here fadre. Ande they passede
the see, ande foughtyne with the felouns, ande slowen
hemi; ande Leyre toke agayne his londe, ande leuyde
after iij. yere in pease; ande afterwarde he diede,
ande Cordelle, his doughter, dide hym be beriede at
Leycetur. Ande after the dethe of here fadre, Cordelle helde the lande of Bretayne. Here may mefi
se what fayre flaterynge wordes done, that vntrewly
fullfillene the beheste that 1 they make; and here
also mony mefi may here, what comys to hemT that
sayene the truthe, as Cordelle dide; for it is writtene,
they that glosene the, and praysene the, dysseyuene
the, ande they that tellene the the truthe ande the
sothe, the louene the, and are thy good frendes, &c.
1 That that, MS.




The gunarchie of queene Cordeilla, how she was
vanquished, of hir simprisonment and selfeinurther: the contention betweene Cunedag
and Margan nephewes for goiernement, and
the euill end thereof.
THE SIXT CHAPTER.
CORDEILLA the yoongest daughter of Leir was ad-Q.dfa.
mitted Q. and supreme gouernesse of Britaine, in the
ydere of the world 3155, before the bylding of Rome
54, Vzia then reigning in luda, and Ieroboam ouer
Israeli.  This Cordeilla after hir fathers deceasse
ruled the land of Britaine right worthilie during the
space of fiue yeeres, in which meane time hir husband
died, and then about the end of those flue yeeres, hir
two nephewes Margan and Cunedag, sonnes to hir
aforesaid sisters, disdaining to be vnder the gouernment of a woman, leuied warre against hir, and destroied a great part of the land, and finallie tooke hir
prisoner, and laid hir fast in ward, wherewith she
tooke such griefe, being a woman of a manlie courage,
and despairing to recouer libertie, there she slue hirselfe, when she had reigned (as before is mentioned)
the tearme of fiue yeeres.




3. How    Queene Cordila, in dispaire, slew
her selfe, the yeare before Christ, 800.
-0
[From the "Mirrorfor Magistrates," 1587.]
IF any woefull wight have cause to wayle her woe,
Or griefs are past do pricke us Princes, tell our
fall:
My selfe likewise must needes constrayned eke do so,
And shew my like misfortunes and mishaps withall.
Should I keepe close my heavy haps and thrall?
Then did I wrong: I wrong'd my selfe and thee,
Which of my facts a witnes true maist bee.
A woman yet must blush when bashfull is the case,
Though trueth bid tell the tale and story as it fell:
But sith that I mislike not audience, time, nor place,
Therefore, I cannot keepe my woes in counsaile well,
No greater ease of heart then griefes to tell,
It daunteth all the dolours of our minde,
Our carefull hearts thereby great comfort finde.
For why to tell that may recounted bee agayne,
And tell it as our cares may compasse ease:
That is the salve and medicine of our payne,




QUEENE CORDILA,


325


Which cureth corsies all and sores of our disease;
It doth our pinching panges and paynes apease:
It pleads the part of an assured friend,
And tells the trade, like vices to amend.
Therefore if I more willing bee to tell my fall,
With my mishaps to ease my burdened breast and
minde:
Some others haply may avoide and shunne the thrall,
And thereby for distresse more aide and comfort
finde,
They keeping measure, whereas I declind,
May bee as prompt to flie like brute and blame
As I to tell, or thou to write the same.
Wherefore if thou wilt afterwards record
What Queene Cordila tells to ease her inward smarte;
I will recite my story tragicall ech word,
To thee that gev'st an eare, and ready art.
But lest I set the horse behinde the cart,
I minde to tell ech thing in order, so,
As thou maist see and shew whence sprang my
woe.
My grandsire Bladud hight, that found the bathes by
skill,
A fethered King that practis'd highe to soare:
Whereby hee felt the fall, God wot against his will,
And never went, road, raygnd, nor spake, nor flew no
more.
After whose death my father Leire therefore
Was chosen King, by right apparent heyre,
Which after built the towne of Leircestere.
Hee had three daughters, first and eld'st hight Gonerell,
Next after her his yonger Ragan was begot:
The third and last was I the yongest, nam'd Cordell.




326


QUEENE CORDILA.


Us all our father Leire did love to well God wot.
But minding her that lov'd him best to note,
Because hee had no sonne t'enjoy his land,
Hee thought to guerdon most where favour most
hee fand.
What though I yongest were, yet men mee judg'd more
wise
Then either Gonerell, or Ragan more of age:
And fairer farre: wherefore my sisters did despise
My grace and giefts, and sought my wrecke to wage.
But yet though vice on vertue dye with rage,
It can not keepe her underneath to drowne:
For still she flittes above, and reaps renowne.
My father thought to wed us unto Princely peeres,
And unto them and theirs devide and part the land.
For both my sisters first hee cal'd (as first their
yeares
Requir'd) their mindes, and love, and favour t'understand.
(Quod hee) all doubts of duty to aband,
I must assay your frendly faithes to prove:
My daughters tell mee how you doe mee love.
Which when they aunswerd him they lov'd their father
more
Then they themselves did love, or any wordly
wight:
He praised them, and sayd hee would therefore
The loving kindnes they deserv'd in fine requite.
So found my sisters favour in his sight,
By flattery faire they won their fathers heart,
Which after turned hym and mee to smart.
But not content with this, hee asked mee likewise
If I did not him love and honour well.
No cause (quod I) there is I should your grace
despise:




QUEENE CORDZLA.


327


'For nature so doth binde and duty mee compell,
To love you, as I ought my father, well.
Yet shortely I may chaunce, if Fortune will,
To finde in heart to beare another more good will.
Thus much I sayd of nuptiall loves that ment,
Not minding once of hatred vile or ire:
And partly taxing them, for which intent
They set my fathers heart on wrathfull fire.
Shee never shall to any part aspire
Of this my realme (quod hee) among'st you twayne:
But shall without all dowry aie remaine.
Then to Maglaurus Prince, with Albany hee gave
My sister Gonerell, the eldest of us all:
And eke my sister Ragan to Hinniue to have,
And for her dowry Camber and Cornwall.
These after him should have his Kingdome all.
Betweene them both hee gave it franke and free,
But nought at all hee gave of dowry mee.
At last it chaunst a Prince of Fraunce to heare my
fame.
My beauty brave, my wit was blaz'd abroad ech
where.
My noble vertues prais'd mee to my fathers blame,
Who did for flattery mee lesse friendly favour beare.
Which when this worthy Prince (I say) did heare,
Hee sent ambassage lik'd mee more then life,
And soone obtayned mee to bee his wife.
Prince Aganippus reav'd mee of my woe,
And that for vertues sake, and dowryes all the
best:
So I contented was to Fraunce my father fro
For to depart, and hoapt t'enjoy some greater rest.
Where living well belov'd, my joys encreast:
I gate more favour in that Prince his sight,
Then ever Princesse of a Princely wight.




328


QUEENE CORDILA.


But while that I these joyes so well enjoyed in
Fraunce,
My father Leire in Britayne waxt unweldy old.
Whereon his daughters more themselves aloft t'advaunce,
Desir'd the Realme to rule it as they wolde.
Their former love and friendship waxed cold,
Their husbands rebels voyde of reason quite
Rose up, rebeld, bereft his crowne and right:
Caus'd him agree they might in parts equall
Devide the Realme, and promist him a gard
Of sixty Knights on him attending still at call.
But in six monthes such was his hap to hard,
That Gonerell of his retinue barde.
The halfe of them, shee and her husband reft:
And scarce alow'd the other halfe they left.
Eke as in Albany lay hee lamenting fates,
When as my sister so, sought all his utter spoyle:
The meaner upstart courtiers thought themselves his
mates,
His daughter him disdayn'd and forced not his
foyle.
Then was hee fayne for succoure his to toyle
With halfe his trayne, to Cornwall there to lie
In greatest neede, his Ragans love to try.
So when hee came to Cornwall, shee with joy
Received him, and Prince Maglaurus did the like.
There hee abode a yeare, and liv'd without anoy:
But then they tooke all his retinue from him quite
Save only ten, and shew'd him daily spite.
Which hee bewayl'd complayning durst not strive,
Though in disdayne they last alow'd but five.
What more despite could develish beasts devise,
Then joy their fathers woefull days to see?
What vipers vile could so their King despise,




QUEENE CORDILA.


329


Or so unkinde, so curst, so cruell be?
Fro thence agayn he went to Albany,
Where they bereav'd his servants all save one:
Bad him content him selfe with that, or none.
Eke at what time hee ask'd of them to have his gard,
To gard his noble grace where so hee went:
They cal'd him doting foole, all his requests debard,
Demaunding if with life hee were not well content.
Then hee to late his rigour did repent
Gaynst mee, my sisters fawning love that knew,
Found flattery false, that seem'd so faire in view.
To make it short, to Fraunce hee came at last to
me,
And told mee how my sisters evell their father usde.
Then humbly I besought my noble King so free,
That he would aide my father thus by his abusde.
Who nought at all my humble hest refusde,
But sent to every coast of Fraunce for aide,
Whereby King Leire might home bee well conveyde.
The souldiours gathered from ech quarter of the
land,
Come at the length to know the noble Princes will:
Who did commit them unto captaynes every band.
And I likewise of love and reverent meere good will
Desir'd my Lord, hee would not take it ill
If I departed for a space withall,
To take a part, or ease my father's thrall.
Hee graunted my request: Thence wee arived here,
And of our Britaynes came to aide likewise his right
Full many subjects, good and stout that were:
By martiall feats, and force, by subjects sword and
might,
The British Kings were fayne to yeeld our right.
Which wonne, my father well this Realme did guide
Three yeares in peace, and after that hee dyde.




33~


QUEENE CORDILA.


Then I was crowned Queene this Realme to hold,
Till five yeares past I did this Island guyde:
I had the Britaynes at what becke I would,
Till that my loving King mine Aganippus dide.
But then my seat it faltered on ech side,
My sisters sonnes began with mee to jarre,
And for my crowne wagde with mee mortall warre.
The one hight Morgan Prince of Albany,
And Conidagus King of Cornwall and of Wales:
Both which at once provided their artillery,
To worke mee woefull woe, and mine adherents
bales.
What neede I fill thine eares with longer tales?
They did prevaile by might and powre, so fast,
That I was taken prisoner at last.
In spitefull sorte they used then my captive corse,
No favour shewde to mee, extinct was mine estate:
Of kinred, Prynces, bloud, or peere was no remorce,
But as an abject vile, and worse, they did mee hate.
To lie in darkesome dungeon was my fate
As t'were a thiefe, mine aunsweres to abide,
Gaynst right and justice, under Jailours guide.
For liberty at length I su'd to subjects were:
But they kept mee in prison close, devoide of trust
If I might once escape, they were in dread and feare
Their fawning friends with mee would prove untrue
and just.
They told mee take it patiently I must,
And bee contented that I had my life:
Sith with their mothers I began the strife.
Whereby I sawe might nothing mee prevaile to pray,
To pleade, or prove, defend, excuse, or pardon
crave.
They heard mee not, despis'd my plaints, sought my
decay,




QUEENE CORDILA.


33x


I might no lawe, nor love, nor right, nor justice have,
No friends, no faith, nor pittie could mee save:
But I was from all hope of freedome bard
Condem'd, my cause like never to bee heard.
Was ever noble Queene so drencht in wrecks of woe,
Depos'd from Princely powre, bereft of liberty,
Depriv'd of all these worldly pompes her pleasures fro,
And brought from wealth to neede, distresse, and
misery,
From Pallace proude in prison poore to lie,
From Kingdomes twayne, to dungeon one, no more,
From Ladies wayting, unto vermine store?
From light to darke, from holesome aire to lothsom
smell,
From odoure sweete to smart, from ease to greevous
paine,
From sight of Princely Wights, to place where theves
doe dwell,
From dainty beds of downe, to bee of strawe full
fayne:
From bowres of heavenly hewe, to dennes of daine:
From greatest haps that worldly wights atchive,
To more distresse than any wretch alive?
When first I left my frends in Fraunce did me exalte,
And eke my noble King, mine Aganippus true:
And came to England; for their heynous facts and
faulte,
Which from his right and kingdome quite our father
threwe,
To take his Realme: to raigne and treason knewe
I thinke of all misfortunes was the worst:
Or else I deeme the causers al accurst.
For marke my haplesse fall that fortune did me send
As thus in prison vile on live I lingring lay,
When I had mourned long, but found no faythfull frend




332


QUEE~NE CORDILA.


That could me helpe, or ayde, or comfort any
way,
Was served at meate as those that Kinges betray
With fare God wote was simple, bare, and thin,
Could not sustayne the corps it entred in.
And when the sighes, and teares, and playnes nigh
burst my hart,
And place, and stenche, and fare nigh poysond every
pore:
For lacke of frends to tell my seas of giltlesse smart,
And that mine eyes had sworne to take sweete sleepe
no more,
I was content, sith cares oppresse me sore,
To leave my foode, take mourning, playnts, and
crye,
And lay mee downe, let griefe, and nature trye.
Thus as I pining lay, my carcas coucht on strawe,
And felt the payne erst never creature earthly
knewe:
Mee thought by night a grizely ghost in darkes I
sawe,
Eke nearer still to mee with stealing steps shee
drewe,
Shee was of colour pale and deadly hewe,
Her clothes resembled thousand kinds of thrall,
And pictures plaine of hastened deathes withall.
I musing lay in paines, and wondred what shee was,
Mine eyes stood still, mine haire rose up for feare an
end,
My flesh it shoke and trembled; yet I cryde (alas)
What wight art thou? a foe? or else what fawning
frend?
If death thou art, I pray thee make an end.
But th'art not death. Art thou some fury sent,
My woefull corps, with paynes, to more torment




QUESEN  CORDILA.


333


With that shee spake: "I am (quoth shee) thy frend
Despayre,
Which in distresse each worldly wight with speede do
ayde:
I rid them of their foes, if I to them repayre.
To long from thee by other caytives was I stayde.
Now, if thou art to dye no whit afrayde,
Here shalt thou choose of Instruments (beholde)
Shall rid thy restlesse life, of this be bolde."
And therewithall she threwe her garments lap aside,
Under the which a thousand thinges I sawe with eyes:
Both knives, sharpe swordes, poynadoes all bedyde
With bloud, and poysons prest which shee could well
devise.
"There is no hope (quoth shee) for thee to rise,
And get thy Crowne or Kyngdome reste agayne:
But for to live long lasting pyning payne.
Lo here (quoth shee) the blade that Did' of Carthage
hight,
Whereby shee was from thousand panges of payne let
passe:
With this shee slewe her selfe, after zEneas flight,
When hee to Sea from Tyrian shoares departed was.
Do choose of these thou from woes to passe,
Or bide the end, prolong thy paynfull dayes,
And I am pleasde from thee to packe my wayes."
With that was I (poore wretche) content to take the
knife,
But doubtfull yet to dye, and fearefull fayne would
byde.
So, still I lay in study with my selfe, at bate and strife
What thing were best of both these deepe extreames
untryde,
Good Hope all reasons of Despayre denyde:
And shee agayne replyde to prove it best
To dye: for still in life my woes increast.




334


QUEENE CORDILA.


Shee cal'd to minde the joyes in Fraunce I whilome
had,
Shee tolde me what a troupe of Ladyes was my
trayne:
And how the Lordes of Fraunce, and Britaynes both
were glad
Of late to wayte on mee, and subjects all were fayne.
She tolde I had bin Queene of Kingdomes twayne,
And how my kinesmen had my seate and Crowne.
I could not rise, for ever fallen downe.
A thousand thinges beside recited then Despayre,
Shee tolde the woes in warres, that I had heapt of
late;
Rehearst the prison vile in steede of Pallace fayre,
My lodging lowe, and mouldy meates my mouth did
hate;
Shee shewde mee all the dongeon where I sate,
The dankish walles, the darkes, and bade mee smell,
And byde the savour it I likt it well.
Whereby I wretch devoid of comfort quite and hope,
And pleasures past comparde with present paynes I
had;
For fatall knife slipt forth, my fearefull hand did grope,
Despayre in this to ayde my senceles limmes was glad,
And gave the blade: to end my woes shee bad.
I will (quoth I) but first with all my hart
Ile pray to Gods, revenge my woefull smart.
If any wrong deserve the wrecke, I pray you skyes
And starres of light (if you my plight doe rue)
O Phcebus cleere I thee beseech and pray likewise,
Beare witnes of my playnts well knowne to God are
true.
You see from whence these injuryes they grue.
Then let like vengeaunce hap and light on those
Which underserved were my mortall foes.




QUEENS CORD1LA.


335


God graunt immortall strife betweene them both may
fall,
That th' one the other may, without remorce, distroye:
That Conidagus may his cosin Morgan thrall,
Because hee first decreast my wealth, bereft my joye.
I pray you Gods he never be a Roy:
But caytife may be payde with such a frend,
As shortly may him bring to sodayne end.
Farewell my Realme of Fraunce, farewell, Adieu,
Adieu mes nobles tous, and England now farewell:
Farewell Madames my Ladyes, car ie suis perdu,
1I me faull aler desespoir m'addonne conseil
De me tuer, no more your Queene farewell.
My cousens mee oppresse with mayne and might,
A captive poore, gaynst Justice all and right.
And therewithall the sight did fayle my dazeling
eyne,
I nothing sawe save sole Dispaire bad mee dispatch:
Whome I behelde, shee caught the knife from mee I
weene,
And by hir elbowe carian death for me did watch.
Cor on (quod I) thou hast a goodly catch.
And therewithall Dispaire the stroke did strike,
Whereby I dyde, a damned creature like:
Which I to late bewayle, Let those a live beware,
Let not the losse of goods or honours them constrayne
To playe the fooles, and take such careful carke and
care;
Or to dispayre for any prison, pine, and payne.
If they be giltlesse let them so remayne,
Farre greater follye it is for to kill,
Themselves dispayring, then is any ill.
Sith first thereby theyr enmyes have that they desire,
By which they prove to deadly foes unwares a frende:
And next they cannot live, to former blisse t'spyre,




336


Q UEENE CORDILA.


If God do bring theyr foes in time to sodayne ende.
They lastly, as the damned wretches, sende
Theyr soules thereby to darkesome Stygian lake
Which kill the corps that mighty Jove did make.
LENVOY.
When as this desperate Queene had ended thus
Her tale, and tolde the haplesse grace she had:
As of her playnte som poyntes I did discusse,
Her sisters dealings were (mee thought) to bad.
Her cosens cruell both, for Kingdomes mad.
Her own estate most pityfull to see,
A Queene by kinred captive kepte to bee.
So wise a Queene, so fayre a Princesse wrongde,
So dutifull in parents plight of yore:
By rebells vile hir cousens to bee throngde,
Such hatred hir ambitiously that bore.
Who ever saw such cruelty before?
Cordilaes state most pitifull to see,
By kinred cloce in prison kepte to bee.
But next from Wales in warlike armoure came
With wounded corps Morganus th' Albane king,
In woefull wise his doubtfull tale to frame,
And of his auntes distresse reports each thing.
Hee from Glamorgan this for truth doth bring,
That who by slaughter seekes a prince to bee,
As traytoure falles beneath his first degree.




I- _i _


I      -
Ific       I__m_~_Ba~


4. The Story of the Paphalgonian Unkind
King.
[From Sydney's "Arcadia," I627, p. 132 33.]
BOOK II. CHAPTER        Io.
The pitzfull state and slorie of the Paphalgonian unkinde King, and his kind sonne; first related by the
son, then by the blind father.  The three Princes
assaulted by Plexirtus and his fraie: assisted by
their King of Pontus and his troupes. Plexirtus
succoured and saved by two brothers, that vertuously
loved a most vicious man. Beseeged by the new
King: he submitteth, and is pardoned.  The two
Princes depart to aide the Queene of Lycia.
IT was in the kingdome of Galacia, the season being
' (as in the depth of winter) very cold, and as then
sodainely growne to so extreame and foule a storme,
that never any winter (I thinke) brought foorth a
fowler child: so that the princes were even compelled
by the haile, that the pride of the winde blew into
their faces, to seeke some shrowding place within a
certaine hollow rocke offering it unto them, they made
it their shield against the tempests furie. And so
staying there, till the violence thereof was passed,
VOL. II.                                 Y




338    TIHE PAPHALGONIAN UNKINDE KING,
they heard the speach of a couple, who not perceiving them (being hidde within that rude canapy)
helde a straunge and pitifull disputation which made
them steppe out; yet in such sort, as they might see unseene. There they perceaved an aged man, and a young,
scarcely come to the age of a man, both poorely arayed,
extreamely weather beaten; the olde man blinde, the
young man leading him: and yet, through all those
miseries, in both these seemed toappeare a kind of noblenesse, not sutable to that affliction. But the first words
they heard, were these of the old man. Well Leonatus
(said he) since I cannot perswade thee to lead me to
that which should end my griefe, and my trouble, let
me now entreat thee to leave me: feare not, my
miserie cannot be greater then it is, and nothing doth
become me but miserie; feare not the danger of my
blind steps, I cannot fall worse then I am. And doo
not, I pray thee, doo not obstinately continue to
infect thee with my wretchednes.  But flie, flie
from this region, onely worthy of me. Deare father
(answered he) doo not take away from me the onely
remnant of my happinesse: while I have power to doo
you service, I am not wholly miserable. Ah my sonne
(saide he, and with that he groned, as if sorrow strave
to breake his harte), how evill fits it me to have such
a sonne, and how much doth thy kindnesse upbraide
my wickednesse? These dolefull speeches, and some
others to like purpose (well shewing they had not
bene borne to the fortune they were in), moved the
princes to goe outunto them, and aske the youngerwhat
they were. Sirs (answered he, with a good grace, and
made the more agreable by a certaine noble kinde of
pitiousnes), I see well you are straungers, that know
not our miserie so well here knowne, that no man
dare know, but that we must be miserable. In deede,
our state is such, as though nothing is so needfull
unto us as pittie, yet nothing is more daungerous unto




AND HIS KINDE SONNE.


339


us, then to make our selves so knowne as may stirre
pittie.  But your presence promiseth, that cruelty
shall not over-runne hate. And if it did, in truth our
state is soncke below the degree of feare.
This old man (whom I leade) was lately rightfull
prince of this countrie of Paphalgonia, by the hardharted ungratefulnes of a sonne of his, deprived, not
onely of his kingdome (whereof no forraine forces
were able to spoyle him) but of his sight, the riches
which nature graunts to the poorest creatures.
Whereby, and by other his unnaturall dealings, he
hath bin driven to such griefe, as even now he would
have had me to have led him to the toppe of this
rocke, thence to cast himselfe headlong to death:
and so would have made me (who received my life of
him) to be the worker of his destruction. But, noble
gentlemen (said he) if either of you have a father, and
feele what duetifull affection is engraffed in a sonnes
hart, let me intreate you to convey this afflicted Prince
to some place of rest and securitie. Amongst your
worthie actes it shall be none of the least, that a king,
of such might and fame, and so unjustly oppressed, is
in any sort by you relieved.
But before they could make him answere, his father
began to speake: Ah my sonne (said he), how evill
an historian are you, that leave out the chiefe knotte
of all the discourse: my wickednes, my wickednes.
And if thou doest it to spare my eares (the onely
sense nowe left me proper for knowledge), assure
thy selfe thou dost mistake me. And I take witnesse of that sunne which you see (with that he cast
up his blinde eyes, as if he would hunt for light), and
wish my selfe in worse case then I do wish my selfe,
which is as evill as may be, if I speake untruely; that
nothing is so welcome to my thoughts, as the publishing of my shame. Therefore, know you, gentlemen (to whom from my harte I wish that it may not




340    THE PAPHALGONIAN UNKINDE KING,
prove ominous foretoken of misfortune to have mette
with such a miser as I am), that whatsoever my sonne
(O God, that trueth binds me to reproch him with
the name of my sonne) hath said, is true.  But,
besides those truthes, this also is true: that, having
had in lawful mariage; of a mother fitte to beare
royall children, this sonne (suche one as partly you
see, and better shall knowe by my shorte declaration), and so enjoyed the expectations in the world
of him, till he was growen to justifie their expectations (so as I needed envie no father for the chiefe
comfort of mortalitie, to leave an other ones-selfe
after me), I was caried by a bastarde sonne of mine
(if, at least, I be bounde to beleeve the words of that
base woman my concubine, his mother) first to mislike, then to hate, lastly, to destroy, to doo my best
to destroy, this sonne (I thinke you thinke) undeserving destruction. What waies he used to bring
me to it, if I should tell you, I should tediously
trouble you with as much poysonous hypocrisie,
desperate fraude, smoothe malice, hidden ambition,
and smiling envie, as in any living person could be
harbored.  But I list it not, no remembrance of
naughtines delights me, but mine own: and, me
thinks, the accusing his traines might in some manner
excuse my fault, which certainly I loth to doo. But
the conclusion is, that I gave order to some servants
of mine, whom I thought as apte for such charities
as my selfe, to leade him out into a forrest, and there
to kill him.
But those theeves (better natured to my sonne
then my selfe) spared his life, letting him goe, to
learne to live poorely: which he did, giving himselfe to be a private souldier, in a countrie hereby.
But as he was redy to be greatly advanced for some
noble peeces of service which he did, he hearde
newes of me: who (dronke in my affection to that




AND HIS KINDE SONNE.


341


unlawfull and unnaturall sonne of mine), suffered
my self so to be governed by him, that all favors
and punishments passed by him, all offices, and
places of importance, distributed to his favourites;
so that ere I was aware, I had left my self nothing
but the name of a king: which he shortly wearie of
too, with many indignities (if any thing may be called
an indignity which was laid upon me), threw me out
of my seat, and put out my eies; and then (proud
in his tyrannie) let me goe, neither imprisoning, nor
killing me: but rather delighting to make me feele
my miserie; miserie, indeed, if ever there were any;
fill of wretchednes, fuller of disgrace, and fullest of
guiltines.  And as he came to the crowne by so
unjust meanes, as unjustlie he kept it, by force of
stranger souldiers in cit/adels, the nestes of tyranny,
and murderers of libertie; disarming all his own
countrimen, that no man durst shew himself a welwiller of mine: to say the trueth (I think) few of
them being so (considering my cruell follie to my
good sonne, and foolish kindnes to my unkinde bastard): but if there were any who fell to pitie of so
great a fall, and had yet any sparkes of unstained
duety lefte in them towardes me, yet durst they not
shewe it, scarcely with giving me aimes at their
doores; which yet was the onelie sustenaunce of my
distressed life, no bodie daring to shewe so much
charitie, as to lende me a hande to guide my darke
steppes: till this sonne of mine (God knowes, woorthie
of a more vertuous, and more fortunate father) forgetting my abhominabld wrongs, not recking danger,
and neglecting the present good way he was in doing
himselfe good, came hether to doo this kind office
you see him performe towards me, to my unspeakable griefe; not onely because his kindnes is a glasse
even to my blind eyes, of my naughtines, but that
above all griefes, it greeves me he should desperatly




342    THE PAPHALGONIAN UNKINDE KING,
adventure the losse of his well-deserving life for mine,
that yet owe more to fortune for my deserts, as if he
would cary mudde in a chest of christall. For well
I know, he that now raigneth, how much soever
(and with good reason) he despiseth me, of all men
despised; yet he will not let slippe any advantage to
make away him, whose just title (ennobled by courage
and goodnes) may one day shake the seate of a never
secure tyrannie. And for this cause I craved of him
to leade me to the toppe of this rocke, indeede I
must confesse, with meaning to free him from so serpentine a companion as I am. But he finding what
I purposed, onelie therein since he was borne, shewed
himselfe disobedient unto me.  And now, gentlemen, you have the true storie, which I pray you
publish to the world, that my mischievous proceedinges may be the glorie of his filiall pietie, the onely
reward now left for so great a merite. And if it may
be, let me obtaine that of you, which my sonne
denies me; for never was there more pity in saving
any, then in ending me; both because therein my
agonies shall ende, and so shall you preserve this
excellent young man, who els wilfully followes his
owne ruine.
The matter, in it self lamentable, lamentably expressed by the old prince (which needed not take to
himselfe the gestures of pitie, since his face could not
put of the markes thereof) greatly moved the two
princes to compassion, which could not stay in such
harts as theirs without seeking remedie. But by and
by the occasion was presented: for Plexirtus (so was
the bastard called) came thether with fortie horse,
onely of purpose to murder this brother; of whose
comming he had soone advertisement, and thought
no eyes of sufficient credite in such a matter, but his
owne; and therefore came him selfe to be actor, and
spectator. And as soone as he came, not regarding




AND HIS KINDE SONNE.


343


the weake (as he thought) garde of but two men, commaunded some of his followers to set their handes to
his, in the killing of Leonatus. But the young prince
(though not otherwise armed but with a sworde) how
falsely soever he was dealt with by others, would not
betray himselfe: but bravely drawing it out, made
the death of the first that assayled him, warne his fellowes to come more warily after him. But then Pyrocles and Musidorus were quickly become parties (so
just a defence deserving as much as old friendship),
and so did behave them among that companie (more
injurious then valiant), that many of them lost their
lives for their wicked maister.
Yet, perhaps had the number of them at last prevailed, if the king of Pontus (lately by them made so)
had not come unlooked for to their succour. Who
(having had a dreame which had fixt his imagination
vehemently upon some great daunger, presently to
follow those two princes whom he most deerely loved)
was come in all hast, following as well as he could
their tracke with a hundreth horses in that countrie,
which he thought (considering who then raigned) a fit
place inough to make the stage of any tragedie.
But then the match had ben so ill made for Plexirtus, that his ill-led life, and worse-gotten honour,
should have tumbled together to destruction; had
there not come in Tydeus and Telenor, with fortie or
fiftie in their suit, to the defence of Plexirtus. These
two were brothers, of the noblest house of that country,
brought up from their infancie with Plexirtus: men
of such prowesse, as not to know feare in themselves,
and yet to teach it others that should deale with them:
for they had often made their lives triumph over most
terrible daungers; never dismayed, and ever fortunate; and truely no more setled in their valure, then
disposed to goodnesse and justice, if either they had
lighted on a better friend, or could have learned to




314    THE PAPHALGONIA N UNTKINDE KING,
make friendship a child, and not the father vertue.
But bringing up (rather then choise) having first knit
their minds unto him (indeed, craftie inough, eyther
to hide his faultes, or never to shew them, but when
they might pay home) they willingly held out the
course, rather to satisfie him, then al the world; and
rather to be good friendes then good men: so, as
though they did not like the evill he did, yet they
liked him that did the evill; and, though not councellors of the offence, yet protectors of the offender.
Now, they having heard of this sodaine going out,
with so small a company, in a country full of evilwishing minds toward him (though they knew not the
cause), followed him; till they found him in such case
as they were to venture their lives, or else he to loose
his: which they did with such force of minde and
bodie, that truly I may justly say, Pyrocles and Musidorus had never till then found any that could make
them so well repeate their hardest lesson in the feates
of armes. And briefly so they did, that, if they overcame not, yet were they not overcome, but caried
away that ungratefull maister of theirs to a place of
securitie; howsoever the princes laboured to the contrary. But this matter being thus far begun, it became
not the constancie of the princes so to leave it; but
in all hast making forces both in Pontus and Phrygia,
they had in fewe dayes lefte him but only that one
strong place where he was. For feare having bene
the onely knot that had fastned his people unto him,
that once untied by a greater force, they all scattered
from him, like so many birdes, whose cage had bene
broken.
In which season the blind king (having in the chief
citie of his realme set the crowne upon his sonne
Leonatus head) with many teares (both of joy and
sorrow) setting forth to the whole people his owne
tault and his sonnes vertue, after he had kist him,




AND HIS KINDE SOiYA-E.


345


and forst his sonne to accept honour of him (as of
his newe-become subject), even in a moment died, as
it should seeme: his hart broken with unkindnes and
affliction, stretched so farre beyond his limits with
this excesse of comfort, as it was able no longer to
keep safe his vitall spirits. But the new king (having
no lesse lovingly performed all duties to him dead,
then alive) pursued on the siege of his unnatural
brother, asmuch for the revenge of his father, as for
the establishing of his owne quiet. In which seige,
truly I cannot but acknowledge the prowesse of those
two brothers, then whom the princes never found in
all their travell two men of greater habilitie to performe, nor of habler skill for conduct.
But Plexirtus, finding that, if nothing els, famin
would at last bring him to destruction, thought better
by humblenes to creepe, where by pride he could not
march.  For certainely so had nature formed him,
and the exercise of craft conformed him to all turnings of sleights, that, though no man had lesse goodnes in his soule then he, no man could better find the
places whence arguments might grow of goodnesse to
another: though no man felt lesse pitie, no man could
tel better how to stir pitie: no man more impudent
to deny, where proofes were not manifest; no man
more ready to confesse with a repenting maner of
aggravating his owne evil, where denial would but
make the fault fowler. Now, he tooke this way, that,
having gotten a pasport for one (that pretended he
would put Plexirtus alive into his hands) to speak
with the king his brother, he him selfe (though much
against the minds of the valiant brothers, who rather
wished to die in brave defence) with a rope about his
necke, barefooted, came to offer himselfe to the discretion of Leonatus. Where what submission he used,
how cunningly in making greater the faulte he made
the faultines the lesse, how artificially he could set




346    THE PAPHALGONIAN UNKINDE KING,
out the torments of his own conscience, with the burdensome comber he had found of his ambitious desires; how finely seeming to desire nothing but death,
as ashamed to live, he begd life in the refusing it, I
am not cunning inough to be able to expresse: but
so fell out of it, that though, at first sight, Leonatus
saw him with no other eie then as the murderer of his
father; and anger already began to paint revenge in
many colours, ere long he had not only-gotten pitie,
but pardon; and if not an excuse of the fault past,
yet an opinion of a future amendment: while the poor
villaines (chiefe ministers of his wickednes, now betraied by the author therof), were delivered to many
cruell sorts of death; he so handling it, that it rather
seemed, he had rather come into the defence of an
unremediable mischiefe already committed, then that
they had done it at first by his consent.
In such sort the princes left these reconciled
brothers (Plexirtus in all his behaviour carying him
in far lower degree of service than the ever-noble
nature of Leonatus would suffer him), and taking
likewise their leaves of their good friend the king of
Pontus (who returned to enjoy their benefite, both of
his wife and kingdome), they privately went thence,
having onely with them the two valiant brothers, who
would needs accompanie them through divers places;
they foure dooing actes more daungerous, though lesse
famous, because they were but privat chivalries: till
hearing of the faire and vertuous Queen Erona of
Lycia, besieged by the puissant king of Armenia, they
bent themselves to her succour, both because the
weaker (and weaker as being a ladie), and partly, because they heard the king of Armenia had in his company three of the most famous men living for matters
of armes, that were knowne to be in the worlde.
Whereof one was the Prince Plangus (whose name
was sweetened by your breath, peerlesse ladie, when




AND HIS K1NDE SONNE.


347


the last daie it pleased you to mention him unto me),
the other two were two great princes (though holding
of him), Barzanes and Euardes, men of giant-like
both hugenes and force: in which two especially the
trust the king had of victory was reposed. And of
them, those two brothers Tydeus and Telenor (sufficient judges in warlike matters) spake so high commendations, that the two yong princes had even a
youthfull longing to have some triall of their vertue.
And, therefore, as soone as they were entred into
Lycia, they joyned themselves with them that faithfully served the poore queene, at that time besieged:
and, ere long, animated in such sort their almost overthrowne harts, that they went by force to relieve the
towne, though they were deprived of a great part of
their strength by the parting of the two brothers, who
were sent for in all hast to returne to their old friend
and maister, Plexirtus: who (willingly hood-winking
themselves from seeing his faultes, and binding themselves to beleeve what he said) often abused the vertue
of courage to defend his fowle vice of injustice. But
now they were sent for to advaunce a conquest he
was about; while Pyrocles and Musidorus pursued
the deliverie of the Queene Erona.




5. A   Lamentable Song     of the Death of
King Leir and his Three Daughters.
(17 the Tune of "l;hen Fying Fame.")
KING Leir once ruled in this land
With princely power and peace;
And had all things with hearts content,
That might his joys increase.
Amongst those things that nature gave,
Three daughters fair had he,
So princely seeming beautiful,
As fairer could not be.
So on a time it pleas'd the king
A question thus to move,
Which of his daughters to his grace
Could shew the dearest love:
For to my age you bring content,
Quoth he, then let me hear,
Which of you three in plighted troth
The kindest will appear.
To whom the eldest thus began;
Dear father, mind, quoth she,




DEATH OF KING LEIR.


349


Before your face, to do you good,
My blood shall render'd be:
And for your sake my bleeding heart
Shall here be cut in twain,
Ere that I see your reverend age
The smallest grief sustain.
And so will I, the second said;
Dear father, for your sake,
The worst of all extremities
I'll gently undertake:
And serve your highness night and day
With diligence and love;
That sweet content and quietness
Discomforts may remove.
In doing so, you glad my soul,
The aged king reply'd;
But what sayst thou, my youngest girl,
How is thy love ally'd?
My love (quoth young Cordelia then)
Which to your grace I owe,
Shall be the duty of a child,
And that is all I'll show.
And wilt thou shew no more, quoth he,
Than doth thy duty bind?
I well perceive thy love is small,
When as no more I find.
Henceforth I banish thee my court,
Thou art no child of mine;
Nor any part of this my realm
By favour shall be thine.
Thy elder sisters loves are more
Than well I can demand,
To whom I equally bestow
My kingdome and my land,




35o


DEATH OF KING LEIZ.


My pompal state and all my goods,
That lovingly I may
With those thy sisters be maintain'd
Until my dying day.
Thus flattering speeches won renown,
By these two sisters here;
The third had causeless banishment,
Yet was her love more dear:
For poor Cordelia patiently
Went wandering up and down,
Unhelp'd, unpity'd, gentle maid,
Through many an English town:
Untill at last in famous France
She gentler fortunes found;
Though poor and bare, yet she was deem'd
The fairest on the ground:
Where when the king her virtues heard,
And this fair lady seen,
With full consent of all his court
He made his wife and queen.
Her father King Leir this while
With his two daughters staid:
Forgetful of their promis'd loves,
Full soon the same decay'd;
And living in Queen Ragan's court,
The eldest of the twain,
She took from him his chiefest means,
And most of all his train.
For whereas twenty men were wont
To wait with bended knee:
She gave allowance but to ten,
And after scarce to three;
Nay, one she thought too much for him;
So took she all away,




DEATH OF KING LEIR.


351


In hope that in her court, good king,
He would no longer stay.
Am I rewarded thus, quoth he,
In giving all I have
Unto my children, and to beg
For what I lately gave?
I'll go unto my Gonorell:
My second child, I know,
Will be more kind and pitiful,
And will relieve my woe.
Full fast he hies then to her court;
Where when she heard his moan
Return'd him answer, That she griev'd,
That all his means were gone:
But no way could relieve his wants;
Yet if that he would stay
Within her kitchen, he should have
What scullions gave away.
When he had heard, with bitter tears,
His made his answer then;
In what I did let me be made
Example to all men.
I will return again, quoth he,
Unto my Ragan's court;
She will not use me thus, I hope,
But in a kinder sort.
Where when he came, she gave command
To drive him thence away:
When he was well within her court
(She said) he would not stay.
Then back again to Gonorell
The woeful king did hie,
That in her kitchen he might have
What scullion boys set by.




352


DEATH OF KING LEIR.


But there of that he was deny'd,
Which she had promis'd late:
For once refusing, he should not
Come after to her gate.
Thus, twixt his daughters, for relief
He wandred up and down;
Being glad to feed on beggars food,
That lately wore a crown.
And calling to remembrance then
His youngest daughters words,
That said the duty of a child
Was all that love affords:
But doubting to repair to her,
Whom he had banish'd so,
Grew frantick mad; for in his mind
He bore the wounds of woe:
Which made him rend his milk-white locks,
And tresses from his head,
And all with blood bestain his cheeks,
With age and honour spread.
To hills and woods and watry founts
He made his hourly moan,
Till hills and woods, and sensless things,
Did seem to sigh and groan.
Even thus possest with discontents,
He passed o're to France,
In hopes from fair Cordelia there,
To find some gentler chance:
Most virtuous dame! which when she heard
Of this her father's grief,
As duty bound, she quickly sent
Him comfort and relief:
And by a train of noble peers,
In brave and gallant sort,




DEATH OF KING LEIR.


353


She gave in charge he should be brought
To Aganippus' court;
Whose royal king, with noble mind
So freely gave consent,
To muster up his knights at arms,
To fame and courage bent.
And so to England came with speed,
To repossesse King Leir,
And drive his daughters from their thrones
By his Cordelia dear.
Where she, true-hearted noble queen,
Was in the battel slain;
Yet he, good king, in his old days,
Possest his crown again.
But when he heard Cordelia's death,
Who died indeed for love
Of her dear father, in whose cause
She did this battle move;
He swooning fell upon her breast,
From whence he never parted:
But on her bosom left his life,
That was so truly hearted.
The lords and nobles when they saw
The end of these events,
The other sisters unto death
They doomed by consents;
And being dead, their crowns they left
Unto the next of kin:
Thus have you seen the fall of pride,
And disobedient sin.
END OF VOL. II.


VOL. II.


z








~'/:: J''  l ' - '"-   UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
/::y  ~3 9015 02274 8829.
THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
X,.0'.1"  ~   DATE DUE;:^:1'.             %4"..,             0
^    '1::11'11   1


A