rest wilâ— hardly be remooued I hope thou wilt confirme in thy loues the very patterne of femenine loyaltie hauing no motion in thy thoughts but fancie and no affection but to thy Francisco In that I am stopped from thy sight I am depriued of the chiefest Organ of my lifeâ— hauing no sense in my selfe perfect in that I want the viewe of thy perfection ready with sorrow to perish in dispayre if resolued of thy constancie I did not triumph in hope Therefore nowe restes it in thée to salue all these sores and prouide medicines for these daungerous maladies that our passions appeased we may end ouâ— harmony in the faithfull vnion of two hearts Thou seest loue hath his shifts and Venus qâ—iddities are most subtill sophistry that he which is touched with beauty is euer in league with opportunitie these principles are prooued by the messenger whose state discouers my restlesse thoughts impatient of any longer repulse I haue therefore sought to ouermatch thy father in pollicie â—s he ouer straines vs in ielousie and seeing hee seekes it to let him find a knot in a rush as therefore I haue sent thee the summe of my passions in the forme of a pasport so returne mee a reply wrapt in the same paperâ— that as wee are forced to couer our deceits in one shift so here after we may vnite our loues in one Simpathie Appoint what I shall doe to compasse a priuate conferenceâ— Thinke I will account of the seas as Leander of the wars as Troylus of all dangers as a man resolued to attempt any perill or breake any preiudice for thy sake Say when and where I shall meete thee and so as I beâ—gunne passionately I breake off abruptly Farewell Thine in fatall resolution Seigneur Francisco AFter hee had written the letter and dispatcht the messenger hir mind was so fixed on the brace of Angels that she stirred her old stumpes til she came to the house of Seigneur Fregoso who at that instant was walkt abroad to take view of his pastures She no sooner beganne her methode of begging with a solempne prayer and a pater noster But Isabell whose deuotion was euer bent to pity the poore came to the doore to see the necessity of the party who beganne to salute her thus Faire Mistresse whose vertues exceede your beâ—â—ties and yet I doubt not but you deeme your perfection equiuolent wyth the rarest paragons in Brittaine as your eye receiues the obiect of my miserie so let your heart haue an insight into my extremities who once was youngâ— and then fauoured by fortunes now olde and crossed by the destinies driuen when I am weakest to the wal and when I am worst forst to helâ—e the candle Seeing then the faultes of my youth hath forst the fall of mine age and I am driuen in the winter of minâ— yeeres to abide the brunt of al stormes let the plenty of your youth pâ—ty the want of my decâ—epite state and the rather because my fortune was once as hie as my fall is nowe lowe for proofe sweete Mistresse see my pasporte wherein you shall finde many passions and much patience at which period making a courâ—esie her very râ—gges seemed to giue Isabell reuerence She hearing the beggar insinuate with such a sensible preamble thought the woman had had some good partes in her and therefore tooke her certificate which as soone as she had opened and that she perceiued it was Franciscoes hand she smiled and yet bewrayed a passion with a blush So that stepping from the woman she went into her â—hamber where shee read it ouer with such patheticall impressions as euery motion was intangled with a dilemma for on the one side the loue of Francisco grounded more on his interiour vertues than his exteriour beauties gaue such fierce assaults to the bulwaâ—ke of her affection as the Fort was ready to bee yeelded vp but that the feare of her fathers displeasure armed with the instigations of nature draue her to meditate thus with her selfe Now Isabell Loue and Fortune hath brought thee into a Labyrinth thy thoughts are like to Ianus pictures that present both peace and warre and thy mind like Venus Anuile whereon is hammered both Feare and Hope Sith then the chance lieth in thine own choice do not with Medea see and allow of the best and then follow the worst but of two extremes if they be Immediata choose that may haue least preiudice and most profiâ—e Thy father is aged and wise and many yeeres hath taught him much experience The olde Foxe is more subtile than the young Cub the bucke more skilfull to choose 〈◊〉 than the yong sawnes Men of age feare and forâ—see that which youth leapeth at with repentance If then his graue wisdome exceedes thy greene wit and his ripened frutes â—hy sprowting blossoms thinke if he speake for thy auaile as his principles are perfect so they are grounded on Loue and Nature It is a neere colloâ— saies he is cut out of the owne flesh and the â—â—ay of thy fortunes is the staffe of his lifeâ— no douâ—t he sees with a more pâ—etting iudgement into the life of Francesco for thou ouercome with fancie censurest of all his actions wyth partialitie Francesco though hee be young and beautifull yet his reuenewes are not answerable to his fauours the Cedar is faire but vnfruitfull the Volgo a bright streame but without fish men couet rather to plant the Oliue for profite than the Alder for beautie and young Gentlewomen shoulde rather fancie to liue than affect to lust for loue wythout Landes is like to a fier wythout fewell that for a while sheweth a bright blaze and in a mâ—ment dyeth in his owne cinders Doost â—hou thinke this Isabell that thine eye may not surfeit so with beautie that the minde shall vomite vp repentaunce yes â—or the fairest Râ—ses haue prickes the purest Lawnes their moles the brightest Diamonds their crackes and the most beautifull men of the most imperfecâ— conditions for nature hauing care to pollish the body so faire ouerweenes herselfe in her excellencie that shee leaues thâ—ir mindes vnperfect Whither now Isabell into absurd Aphorismes what can thy father perswade thee to this that the most glorious shelles haue not the most orient marâ—arites that the purest flowers haue not the most perfect sauours that men as they excell in proportion of bodie so theâ— exceede in perfection of minde Is not nature both curious and absolute hiding the most vertuous mindes in the most beautifull couertures Why what of this fonde girle suppose these premises be granted yet they inferre no conclusion for suppose hee be beautifull and vertuous and his wit is equall with his parentage yet hee wantes wealth to maintaine loue and therefore sayes olde Fregose not worthy of Isabels loue Shall I theÌ„ tie my affection to his lands or to his liniameÌ„ts to his riches or his qualities are Venus altars to be filled with gold or loialty of harts Is the Simpathie of
Cupids consistorie vnited in the abundance of coyne Or the absolute perfection of constancie Ah Isabell thinke this that loue brooketh no exception of want that where fancie displayes her coulours there alwayes eyther Plentie keepes her Court or else Patience so tempers euery extreame that all defectes are supplied with content Upon this as hauing a farther reach and a déeper insight she stept hastely to her standish and writte him this answere Isabell to Francisco health ALthough the nature of a father and the duetie of a childe might mooue me resolutely to râ—iect thy letters yet I receyued them for that thou art Francisco and I Isabell who were once priuate in affection as now we are distant in places But know my father whose commaund to me is a law of constraint settes downe this censure that loue witâ—out wealth is like to a Cedar tree without frute or to corne sowen in the sands that withereth for want of moisture and I haue reason Francesco to deeme of snow by the whitenesse and of trâ—â—s by the blossoms The olde man whose wordes are Oracles tells me that loue that entreth in a moment flieth out in a minute that mens affections is like the deawe vpon a christall which no sooner lighteth on but it leapeth off their eyes with euery glaunce make a newe choice and euery looke can commaunde a sigh hauing their heartes like Saltpetâ—r that fiereth at the first and yet prooueth but a flash their thoughts râ—aching as high as Câ—dars but as brittle as rods that breake with euery blast had Carâ—hage bâ—ene bereâ—t of so famous a Virago if the beautâ—ous Troian had bâ—ene as constant as he was comely Had thâ— Quâ—ene of Poetry beene pinched with so many passions if the wanton Ferriman had beene as faithfull as he was faire No Francesco and thereâ—ore seeing the brightest blossoms are pesâ—red with most caterpillers the sweetâ—st Roses wyth the sharpâ—st prickes the fairest Cambrickes with the fowlest staines and men wiâ—h the best proportion haue commonly least perfâ—ction I â—ay feare to swallowe the â—ooke lâ—ast I finde more baâ—e iâ— the confection than pleasure in the baite But here let mâ— breath and with sighes foresée mine owne follie Women poore soules are lâ—ke to the Harts in Calabria that knowing Dictannum to be deadly yet bruse on it with greedinesse resâ—mbling the â—ish Mugra that seeing the hooke bare yâ—t swallowâ—s it with dâ—light so women forâ—see yet doo not preuâ—nt knowing what is profitableâ— yet not escâ—ewing the preiudice so Francesco I see thy beauties I knowâ— thy waâ—t and I feare thy vanities yet can I not but allowe of all wâ—re they the woorst of all because I finde in my minde this principle in Loue is no lacke What should I â—rancesco couet to dally with â—he Mouse when the Cat stands by or fill my letter full of needlesse ambages when my father like Argos setteth a hundred eies to ouerpry my actions while I am writing thy messenger stands at the doore praying Therefore least I shoulde holde her too long in her orisons or keepe the poore man too long in suspence thus briefly Be vpon Thursday next at night hard by the Orchard vnder the greatest Oake where expect my comming and prouide for our safe passage for stood all the worlde on the one side and thou on the other Francesco should be my guide to direct me whither hee pleased Faile not then vnlesse thou bee false to her that would haue life faile ere she falsifie faith to thee Not hir owne because thine Isabell. AS soone as shee had dispatcht her letter shee came downe and deliuered the letter folded in forme of a pasport to the messenger giuing her after her accustomed manner an almes and closely clapt her in the fist with a brace of Angelles the woman thanking hâ—r good Maister and her good mistresse giuing the house her benison hied her backe againâ— to Francesco whoÌ„ shâ— found sitting sollitary in his chamber no sooner did he spie hir but flinging out of his chaire he changed coulour as a man in a doubtfull extasie what should bâ—tide yet conceyuing good hope by her countâ—naunce who smiled more at the remembrance of her rewarde â—han at any other conceâ—t he tooke the letter and read it wherein he found his humour so fitted that he not only thanked the messenger but gaue her all the money in his purse so that she returned so highly gratified as neuer aftâ—r she was founde to exercise hâ—r old occupation But leauing her to the hope of her husâ—â—fâ—iâ— againe to Francesco who seeing the constant affection of his mistresse that neither the sower lookes of her father nor his hard threats could afright her to make chaunge of her fancie that no disaster fortune could driue hir to make shipwracke of her fixed affecâ—ion that the blustering stormes of aduersitie might assault but not sacke the forâ—e of her constant resoltuion hee fell into this pleasing passion Women quoth he whiâ— as they are heauens wealâ—h so they are earthes myracles â—ramed by nature to despight beauty adorned wyth the singularitie of proportion to shrowde the excellence of all perfection as farre exceeding men in vertues as they excell them in beauties resembling Angells in qualities as they are like to gods in perfectnesse being purer in minde than in mould and yet made of the puritie of man iust they are as giuing loue her due constant as holding Loyâ—ltie more pretious than life as hardly to be drawen from vnited affection as the Salamanders fro the cauerns of Aetna Tush quoth Francesco what should I say they be women and therefore the continents of all excellence In this pleasant humour he passed away the time not slacking his businesse for prouision against thursday at night to the care of which affaires let vs leaue him and returne to Isabell who after shee had sent her letter fell into a great dumpe entring into the considâ—ration of mens inconstancie and of the ficklenesse of thâ—ir fancies but all these meditations did sort to no â—ffect whereupon sitting downe she tooke her Lute in her hand and sung this Ode Isabells Ode Sitting by a riuer side Where a silent streame did glide Banckt about with choice flowers Such as spring from Aprill showers When faire Iris smiling sheaws All her riches in her dewes Thicke leaued trees so were planted As nor arte nor nature wanted Boâ—dring all the broke with shade As if Venus there had made By Floraes wile a curious bowre To dally with her paramours At this current as I gazde Eies intrapt mind amazde I might see in my ken Such a flame as fireth men Such a fier as doth frie With one blaze both heart and â—ie Such a heate as dâ—oth proue No heate like to heate of loue Bright she was for t was a she That tracde hir steps towards me On her head she ware a bay To fence Phoebus light away In hir face one might descrie The curious beauty of the skie Her eies carried
darts of fier Feathred all with swift desier Yet foorth these fierie darts did passe Pearled teares as bright as glasse That wonder t was in her eine Fire and water should combine If â—h'old saw did not borrow Fier is loue and water sorrow Downe she sate pale and sad No mirth in hir lookes she had Face and eies shewd distresse Inward sighes discourst no lesse Head on hand might I see Elbow leaned on hir knee Last she breathed out this saw Oh that loue hath no law Loue inforceth with constraint Loue delighteth in complaint Who so loues hates his life For loues peâ—ce is mindes strife Loue doth frede on beauties fare Euerie dish sawâ—t with care Câ—iefly women reason why Loue is hatcht in their eye Thence it steppeth to the hart There it poysonetâ— euerie part Minde and heart eye and thought Till sweete loue their woeâ— hath wrought Then repentant they gan crie Oh my heart â—hat trowed mine eye Thus she said and then she rose Face and minde both full of woes Flinging thence with this saw Fie on loue that hath no law Hauing finished her Doe she heard that her father was come in and therefore leauing hir an â—â—ous iâ—strumenâ—s she fell to her labour to confirme the olde proueâ—be in her fathers iâ—lous head Otia si â—ollas periere Cupidinis arcuâ— but as warye as she was yet the old goose could spiâ— the gosling winke and woulde not vp anie meanes trust her but vsed his accustomed manner of restraint yet as it is impossible for the smoake to be concealed or fire to be suppressed so Fregoso coulde by no subtill driftes so warâ—ly watch his â—raâ—sâ—ormed Io but she found a Mâ—rcurie to release her For vpon the thursâ—ay lying in her bed with little intent to sléepe she offered manie sighes to Venus that she would be â—â—atresse to Morpheus that some dead slumber might possesse all the house which fel out accordinâ—ly so that at midnight she rose vp finding her apparell shut vp she was faine to goe without hose onely in her â—mocke and her peticoate with her fathers hat and an olde cloake Thus attired like Diana in her night géete shee marcheth downe softly where she found Francesco readie with a priuate and familiar frend of his to watch her comming forth who casting his eye aside séeing one in a hat and a cloake suspecting some treacherie drew his sword at which Isabel smiling she incountred him thus Gentle sir if you be as valiant as you séeme cholaricke or as martiall as you would be thought hardie set not vpon a weaponlesse woman least in thinking to triumph in so meane a conquest you be preiudicte with the taint of cowardise T was neuer yet read that warlicke Mars drew his fawchion against louely Venus â— were her offence neuer great or his choller neuer so much Therefore Gentleman if you be the man I take you Isabels Francesco leaue off your armes and fall to amours and let your parlée in them be as short as the night is silent and the time dangerous Francesco séeing it was the Paramour of his affections let fall his sword and caught her in his armes readie to fall in a swound by a sodaine extasie of ioy at last recouering his senses he encountred her thus Faire Isabel Natures ouermatch in beautie as you are Dianas superior in vertue at the sight of this attiâ—e I dreâ— my sword as fearing some priuie foe but as soone as the view of your perfection glaunced as an obiect to mine eye I let fal mine armes trembling as Acteon did that he had dared too farre in gazing against so gorgeous a Goddesse yet readie in the defence of your sweet selfe and rather than I would loose so rich a prize not onely to take vp my weapons but to incouÌ„ter hand to hand with the stoutest champion in the world Sir quoth she these protestations are now bootlesse and therefore to bee briefe thus and with that the teares trickled downe the vermilion of her chéeks and she blubbred out this passion O Francesco thou maist sée by my attire the depth of my fancie and in these homely roabes maist thou noate the rechlesnesse of my fortunes that for thy loue haue straind a note too high in loue I offend nature as repugnant to my father whose displeasure I haue purchast to please thée I haue giuen a finall farewell to my friends to be thy familiar I haue lost all hope of preferment to confirme the simpathie of both our desires Ah Francesco see I come thus poore in apparell to make thâ—e rich in content Now if hereafter oh let me sigh at that least I be forced to repent too late when thy eye is glutted with my beautie and thy hotte loue prooued soone tolde thou beginst to hate hir that thus loueth thee and pâ—oue as Demophon did to Phillis or as Aeneas did to Dido what then maye I doo reiected but accurse miâ—e â—wne folly that hath brought mee to such hard fortunes Giue me leaue Francesco to feare what may fall for men are as inconstant in performance as cunning in practises She could not fully discourse what she was â—boâ—t to vtter but he broke off with this protestation Ah Isabel although the windes of Lepanthos are euer inconstant the Chrisâ—â—oll euer brittle the Polype euer changeable yet measure not my minde by others motions nor the depth of my affection by the fléeting of others fancies for as there is a Topace that will yéeld to euerie stamp so there is an Emerald that will yéeld to no impression The selfe same Troy as it had an Aeneas that was fickle so it had a Troylus thâ—t was constant Greece had a Piramus as it had a Demophon and though some haue béen ingrateful yet accuse not al to be vnthankful for when Francesco shall let his eye slip froÌ„ thy beautie or his thoughts from thy qualities or his heart from thy vertues or his whole selfe from euer honouring thée then shal heauen cease to haue starres the earth trées the world Clements and euerie thing reuersed shall fall to their former Chaos Why then quoth Isabel to horsâ—backe for feare the faith of two such Louers be impeached by my fathers wakefull iealouzie And with that poore woman halfe naked as she was she mounted and as fast as horse would pace away they post towards a towne in the said Countrey of Britaine called Dunecastrum Where let vs leaue them in their false gallop and returne to old Fregoso who rising early in the morning and missing his Daughter asked for her through the whole house but séeing none could discouer where she was as aâ—sured of her escape he cried out as a man halfe Lunaticke that he was by Francesco robde of his onely iewell Whereupon in a despayring furie he caused all his men and his tenaunts to mount them and to disperse themselues euerie one with hue and crie for the recouerie of his daughter he himself being horst and riding
Secretarie else locke thy thoughts in thy heart for women are sildome silent 5 If she be faire bee not iealous for suspition cures not womens follies 6 If she be wise wrong her not for if thou louest others she will loath thee 7 Let thy childrens nouâ—â—ure be their richest portion for wisedome is more precious than wealth 8 Be not proude amongst thy poore neighbours for a poore mans hate is perilous 9 Nor too familiar with great men for presumption wins disdaine 10 Neither bee too prodigall in thy fare nor die not indebted to thy bellie but enough is a feast 11 Bee noâ— enuious least thou fall in thine owne thoughes 12 Vse patience mirth and quiet for care is enemie to health And Francesco quoth his friend that thou maiest remember my precepts I drinke to thée Upon this he plâ—â—ged him and so in pleasant that they past away the time till breakfast was done and then he gaâ— him to horse and then brought him a mile out of the Citâ—e At last altâ—ough they playd loth to depart yet Francesco must away but before he departeâ— when they were readie to shake hands 〈◊〉 out of his sléeue a Sonnet that he had made and gaue them it The effecâ—s were these Francescos Sonnet cald his parting blow Reason that long in prison of my will Hast wept thy mistris wants and losse of time Thy wonted siege of honour safely clime To thee I yeeld as guiltie of mine ill Lo fettered in their teares mine eyes are prest To pay due homage to their natiâ—e guide My wretched heart wounded with bad betide To craue his peace fâ—â—m reason is addrest My thoughts ashamd since by themselues consumd Haue done their duetie to repâ—ntant wit Ashamde of all sweete guide I sorie sit To see in youth how I too farre presumde Thus he whom loue and errour did betray Subscribes to thee and takes the better way Sero sed serio Assoone as hee had deliuered them the Sonnet shaking hands he put spurres to his horse and roade onward on his iourneyâ— within fiue vaies hee arriued at Caerbrancke where assoone as he was lighteâ— he went to the house where his wife soiourned and one of the maides espying Francesco yet knewe him for all his long absence and â—anne in and tolde it to Isabel that her husband was at the dâ—ore she being at worke in heâ— chamber sat at this newes aâ— one in an extasie vntill Francesco came vp who 〈◊〉 â—he 〈◊〉 sighe of his wife considering the excellencie of her beautie her vertues chastitie and other perfections and measuring heâ— constancie with his disloyaltie stoode as a man metamorphâ—sed at last he began thus Ah Isabel what shal I say to thy fortunes or my 〈◊〉 what exordium shall I â—se to shewe my penance or discoâ—eâ— my sorrowes or expresse my present ioyes For I â—ell thâ—e I conceiue as great pleasure to sâ—â— thâ—â— well as griefe in that I haue wronged thee with my absence Might sighes Isabel teares plaints or any such exteriour pâ—ssions pourtray out my inward repentance I would shewe thee the Anatomie of a most distressed man but â—mongst many sorrowing thoughts there is such a confusion that superfluâ—â—â—â—â—f griefes stops the source of my discontent To figure out my follies or the extremitie of my fancieâ— were but to mâ—nifest the bad course of my lifeâ— and â—o raâ— the fearre by â—â—â—ting out mine owne scatheâ— aâ—â— therefâ—re 〈◊〉 it suffice I râ—pent heartelie I sorrowe â—eeplie and meane to amend and continue in the same constanâ—ite Aâ— thâ—â— Francesco stâ—â—de and wâ—pâ— which Isabel seeing conteined by â—is outward griefes his secret passions and therefore taking him about the necke wetting his cheekes with the teares that fell from her eyes she made him this womanlie and wise answere What Francesco comest thou home ful of woes or sâ—ekest thou at thy returne to make me wéepe Hast thou beâ—â— long absent and now bringest thou me a treatise of disconâ—ent I see thou are penitent and therefore I like not to heare whâ—t follieâ— are past It 〈◊〉 for Isabel that heâ—cefoorâ—h thou wilt loue Iâ—â—bel and vpon that condition without any more wordes welcome to Isabel. With that she smiled and wept and in doing both together sealed vp all her contrarie passions in a kisse Many loâ—kes pâ—st betweene them many odde 〈◊〉 and many fauoursâ— but what they did or how thâ—y agreed in secrete that I 〈…〉 foorth they câ—me great 〈◊〉 out of the chamber where Francesco was welcomed home of his wifes â—ost with great cheateâ— who to shewe his kindnesse the more â—ad prouided â—â—â—lemne â—anâ—â—eâ— hauing hidden many of hiâ— neighbours to supper that they might accompanie Fâ—â—â—â—esco Well supper being done and they sitting by the fire the host seeing them all in a dumpe sayd that to driue them out of their melancholie he would tell them a tale which they al desirous of sat silent and he began thus The Hosts tale IN Thessalie where Nature hath made the soyle proude with the beautie of Shepheards there dwelled a swayne called Selador auncient as hauing age seated in his haires and wealthie as infeoffed with great possessions and honest as being indued with many vertuous qualities This Selador had to ioy him in his age a daughter of great beautie so exquisite in her exteriour feature as no blemish might eclipse the glorie that Nature bâ—stowed in her liniaments As thus she was faire so was she wise and with her wit ioyned vertue that to behold she was Helena to heare Pallas and to court a Daphne This Damosell whose name was Mirimida kept hâ—r fathers shéepe in a scarlet peticoate with a chaplet of flowers on her head went euery day to the â—â—â—lds where she plide the care of her fathers foldes with such diligence that she seemed with Labour to enter armes against Loue with her hands thrift to preuent her hearâ—s gréefe Using thus daylie the playnes of Thessalie the Shepheards delighted at the gaze of so excellent an obiect and held their eyes fortunate when they might behold her feature estéeming him happie that could lay his flockes néerest to her foldes Amongst the rest of all the swaynes that fed their thoughts 〈◊〉 hee fauours there was one called Eurymachus a young youth that had thâ— pride of his yeares triumphing in his countenance wittie and full of pleasant conceipts and that Fortune might iumpe with loue and make him gracious in womens eyes he was wealthie for gold is the Chrisocoll of loue This Eurymachus alwaies so plotten the course of his shéepe walke that he was next neighbour to Mirimida in so much that to discouer his fancie hee did her often fauours for when any of her Lambes went â—â—tray or any thing grewe amisse then Eurymachus was the swayne that indeuoured by his labour to redresse euery losse By this meanes hée waxed priuate and familiar with Mirimida which was the meanes that wrought him into a preiudiciall lâ—borinth for he did so neere accedâ—râ—
face The ayre cleard vp the clowds did fade away Phoebus was frollick when she did display The gorgious bewties that her frunt do grace So that when sheâ— But walkt abroad the stormes then fled away Flora did checker all her treading place And Neptune calmde the surgâ—â—â—ith his mace Diana aâ—d hir Nimphes were blâ—the and gaie When hâ—r thâ—y see kill a thousand men Indeed I cannot denie but oft sub melle latet venenum that beautie without vertue is like a boxe of Iuorie containing some balefull Aconiton or to a faire shooe that wrings the tooâ—e such loue as is laid vpon such a foundation is a short pleasure full of payne and an affection bought with a thousand miseries but a woman that is faire and veâ—tuous maketh her husband a ioyfull man and whether he be rich or poore yet alwaies he may haue a ioyfull heart A woman that is of a silent tongue shamefast in countenance sober in behauiour and honest in condition adorned with vertuous qualities correspondentâ— is like a goodly pleasant flower deckt with the colours of all the flowers of the garden and such a one quoth he is Mirimida and therfore though she be poore I will loue her and like her and if she wil fancie me I will make her my wife And vpon this he resolued to prosecute his sute towards her in so much that assoone as he came home and had rested himselfe a while he stept to his standish and wrote her a letter Radagon was not more pained with this passionate maladiâ— than poore Eurymachus who could tâ—ke no râ—st although euery day in her presence he fed his eye with the beautie of her face but as the Hidaspis the more he drinkes the more thirstie he is so Eurâ—machus the more he looked the more he loued as hauing his eye deeply eâ—amoured of the obiect reueale any more his suâ—e he dursâ— not beâ—â—use whâ—n he began to that of loue she shaâ—â— him offâ— and either 〈◊〉 â—way in a rage or else forst him to fall to other prattle in so much that he determined to discourse his minde in a letterâ— which he performed as cunningly as he could sent it herâ— Mullidoâ— that asse râ—pt out his reasons diuers â—imes to Mirimida vntil she was weary of the 〈…〉 fooleries and so with a sharpe worâ— or two â—ipâ— him on the pate whereupon asking his mothers counsaile she perswâ—ded him to write vâ—to Mirimida althoâ—gh he and a pâ—n werâ— as fit as an â—â—â—e and â— harpe◠〈…〉 and stealing into the Churchyard vnder an Appletreâ—◠〈◊〉 in his muses he framed a letter and sent it her Thus had Fortune meaning to be merrie appoynted in her secret synod that al these three should vse one meanes to possesse their loues brought it so to passe that the thrée letters from these three riuals were deliuered at one instant which when Mirimida saw she sat her downe and laught wondring at the rarenes of the chance that should in a moment bring such a conceipt to passe at last for as then shee was leading foorth her shéepe shee satte her downe and looking on the superscription saide to her selfe what Adamants are faire faces that can draw both rich poore fooles to lodge in the laborinth of their beauties at this she sighed the first letter she broake open because he was her first louer was Eurymachus The contents whereof were these Eurymachus the Shepheard to Mirimida the Goddesse of Thessalie WHen Mirimida I sit by thy sweet selfe wonder at thy sight feeding as the Bée vpon the wealth of thy beauties the conceipt of â—hine excellencie driues me into an extasie that I became dumme with ouer much delight for Nature sets downe this as an authenticke principle Sensibile sensui suppositum nulla fiâ— sensatio If the flower be put in the nostrill there is no smell the colour clapt close to the eye blemisheth the sight so a louer in presence of his mistris hath the organs of his speech tied that he conceales with silence aâ—d sighs out his smoothered passions with sorowes Ah Mirimida consider that loue is such a fire as either will burst foorth or burne the house it is such a streame as will either haue his course or breake through the bankes make a deluge or els force their hart strings crack with secrecy TheÌ„ Mirimida if I be lauish in my pen blame me not that am so laden with loue if I be bold attribute it to thy beautie not my impudencie thinke what I ouer dare in it growes through the extremitie of loyal affection which is so déeply imprinted in my thoughes as neither time can diminish nor misfortune blemish I aime not Mirimida at thy wealth but at thy vertues for the more I consider thy perfection the more I grow passionate in such an humour as if thou denie there is no meanes to cure my maladie but that salue which healeth all incurable sores that is â—eath Therefore sweet Miâ—imida consider of my loues vse me as my loyaltie deserues let not my pouertie put in any barre nor the basenesse of my birth beâ— any excuse of thy affection weigh my desires not â—y degrees either send me a speedie plaâ—ster to salue my â—espairing passions or a corasiue to cut off my lingering sorowes either thy fauour with life or thy deniall with death betwéene which I rest in hope till I heare thine answer Thine who can be no others but thine the Shepheard Eurymachus To the end of this letter for that he would runne desâ—ant vpon his wit he set downe a Sonnet written in the forme of a Madrigale thus Eurimachus in laudem Mirimidae his Motto Inuita fortuna dedi vota concordia When Flora proude in pompe of all her flowers Sat bright and gay And gloried in the dâ—aw of Iris shâ—wers And did display Her mantle checquered all with gawdy greene Then I Alone A mournfull man in Erâ—cine was seene With folded armes I trampled through the grasse Tracing as he That held the Throane of Fortune brittle glasse And loue to be Like Fortune fleeting as the restlesse wind Mixed With mists Whose dampe doth make the cleerest eyes grow blind Thus in a maze I spied a hideous flame I cast my sight And sawe where blythly bathing in the â—ame With great delight A worme did lye wrapt in a smokie sweate And yet T was strange It carelesse lay and shrunke not at the heate I stood amazd and wondring at the sight While that a dame That shone like to the heauens rich sparkling light Discourst the same And sayd my friend this worme within the fire Which lies Content Is Venus worme and represents desire A Salamander is this princely beast Deckt with a crowne Giuen him by Cupid as a gorgeoâ—s erest Gainst fortunes frowne Content he lies and bathes him in the flame And goes Not foorthâ— For why he cannot liue without the same As he so louers lie within the firâ— Of
feruent loue And shrinke not from the flame of hot desireâ— Nor will not mooue From any heate that Venus force imparts But lie Contenâ— Within a fire and wast away their harts Vp flew the daâ—â— and vanisht in a clâ—wdâ— But there stood I And many thoughts within my mind did shrowde Of loue for why I felt within my heart a scortching fire And yet As did The Salamander t was my whole desire Mirimida hauing read this Sonnet she straight being of a pregnant wit conceipâ—ed the drift of his Madrigale smiled and layd it by and then next tooke vp Radagons letter which was written to this effect Radagon of Thessalie to the faire Shepherdize Mirimida health I Cannot tell faire Mistris whether I should praise Fortune as a friend or curse her as a foe hauing at vnwares presented me with the view of your perfection which sight may be either the sunne of my blisse or the beginning of my vale for in you rests the bâ—llance either to weigh me downe my 〈◊〉 with courteâ—â—e or my deniall with exâ—reame vnkindnes Such as are pricâ—e with the boanes of the Dolphin heare musicke and they are presently â—eales of their maladie they which are iâ—neâ—ymed with the Uâ—per rubbe the soâ—e with Râ—barb and feelâ— a remedie and those which drinke Acoâ—iton are cured by Antidotes But loue is like the sting of a Scorpion it must be salued by affection for neither charme hearâ—e stone nor mynerall hath vertue to cure it which made Apollo exclaâ—e this passion Hei mihi quod nullis amor est medicabilis herbis With the same distresse swéete Mirimida am I pained who lighting by chance as Paris did in the vale of Ida vpon Venus haue seene a brighter Danie than Venus but I feare me lesse courteous than Venus I haue no golden apple faire Nymph to present thee with so to prooue thée supreme of beautie but the deuotion of my thoughts is offered humblie at thy feete which shall euer confesse none so beauteous as Mirimida Then as Venus for reward gaue Paris Helena so courteous Nymph bee prodigall of thy fauours and giue me thy heart which shall bee to me more deare than a hundred Helens But here perhaps thou wilt obiect that mens pleas are like Painters peâ—sels which drawe no substance but shadowes that to the worst proportions giue the richest colours and to the coursest pictures the finest glasses that what wee write is of course and when wee faine passions then are wee least passionate hauing sorrowfull pens when wee haue secure hearts and louring lookes when wee haue laughing thoughts I cannot denie sweete Mistris but that hot loues are like a bauins blaze and that men can promise more in a moment than they will performe in a moneth I knowe there was a Demophon that deceiued Phillis an Aeneas that falsified his faith to Dido a Theseus that forsooke his Ariadne yet measure not all by some mens minds of a fewe particular instances conclude not generall axiomes though some haue been fleetingâ— thinke not all to be false trie me I referre your passions to my proofe and as you finde me loyall so reward me with loue I craue no authenticall graunt but a superficiall fauour say Mirimida that Radagon shall bee welcome if he bee faithfull and then my hope shall comfort my heart In which sâ—spence â— rest confused at the barre of your courtesie Farewell Mirimidas Radagon though she will not be Radagons Mirimida This she read ouer twise and blâ—sht at it as féeling a little heate but straight she sighed and shake it from her heart and had laid it by but that turning ouer the next page she espied certaine verses which was a Canzon perâ— thus Radagon in Dianam Non fuga Tencrus amat quae â—amen odit habet It was a valley gawdiâ— greene Where Dian at the fount was seene Greene it was And did passe All other of Dianas bowers In the pride of Floras floâ—â—â—s A fount it was that no Sunne sees Circled in with Cipres trees Set so nie As Phoebus eye Could not doo the Virgins seathe To see them naked when they bathe She sat there all in white Colour â—iâ—ting her delite Virgins so Ought to go For white in Armorie is plast To be the colour that is chast Her taâ—t a Cassocke might you see Tucked vp aboue her knee Which did show There below Legges as white as whales bone So white and chast was neuer nonâ— Hard by her vpon the ground Sat her Virgins in a round Bathing their Golden haire And singing all in notes hye Fie on Venus flattring eye Fie on loue it is a toy Cupid witlesse and a boy All his fires And desires Are plagues that God sent downe from hie To pester men with miserie As thus the Virgins did disdaine Louers ioy and louers paine Cupid nie Did espie Greeuing at Dianas song Slylie stole these maides among His bow of steele darts of fire He shot amongst them sweete desireâ— Which straight flies In their eyes And at the entrance made them start For it ran from eye to hart Calisto straight supposed loue Was faire and frolicke for to loue Dian shee Scapt not free For well I wot hereupon She loued the swayne Endimion Clitia Phoebus and Cloris eye Thought none so faire as Mercuâ—ie Venus thus Did discusse By her sonne in darts of fire None so chast to checke desire Dian rose with all her maids Blushing thus at loues braids With sighs all Shew their thrall And flinging hence pronounce â—his saw What so strong as Louâ—â— sweet lâ—w Mirimida hauing read the letter of Radagon perceiued that loue was in his eyes and peâ—haps had sâ—ylie toucht hiâ— heart but she that was charie of her choyce and resolute not to fetter her selfe with fancie did passe ouer these passions as men dâ—â— the shadowes of a painters pensellâ— which while they view they praise and when they haue praised passe ouer without any more remembrance yet she could not but enter into the humorous â—each of his conceipt how hee checkt the coy disdaine of women in his Sonnet she blusht and her thoughts went away with her â—loud and so she lighted on the letter that Mullidor had sent her which droue her into a pleasant vaine The effects of his passions were these Mullidor the malecontent with his pen clapt full of loue to his Mistris Mirimida greeting AFter my heartie Commendations remembred hoping yâ—â— be in as gâ—â—d health as I was at the making hereof This is to certiâ—â—â— you that loue may well bee compared 〈◊〉 a bottle of hay which once set 〈…〉 or to a cup full of strong ale which when a man hath once tasted he neuer leaues till he hath drunke it all vp so Mistris Mirimida after the furious flames of your two eyes had set my poore heart on the coales of loue I was so scorthed on the grediron of affection that I had no rest till I was almost turned to a câ—ale and after I had tasted
backe and beâ—â— his broâ—es as if he feared some preiudice or were offended at my presence but when hâ—e saw me weaponlesse and without companie and yet so affable in words aâ—d debonaire in exterior curtesiâ—s as might importe a Gentleman he deuoutly mooued his bonnet of gray and mâ—de this reply Gentleman for no lesse you seeme if the flower may be knowen by smel or the man by his words I am a Palmer discouered by my gray and a penitent if you note my griefe which sorrow is as effectuall as my attire is litâ—le counterfeite the direction of my iourney is not to Ierusalem for my faith telles me Christ can dâ—aw as great fauour downe in England as in Iericho and prayers are not heard for the place but in the bâ—hâ—lfe of the person hartilie repentant My natiue home is England the ende of my iourney is Venice where I meane to visit an olde fâ—iend of mine an Engâ—ishman to whome I haue beene long time indebted and nowe meane partely to repay with such store as I haue bought with hard expeâ—ience This night I will râ—st in the next villâ—ge and thus I hope sir you rest saâ—â—sfied This auswere of the Palmer made mee the more desirous to enquire into his state that I intreted him I might be hoste to such a guest and seeing I was resident in Bergamo where that night he meanâ— to harbour such lodging as a country Gentleman could affoord and such cheâ—re as such a village might on the sodaine yéelde should be at his commaund Well coulde this Palmer skill of courtesie and returning mee many thankes voucht of my proffer and was willing to take my house for his Inne As wee past on the way wee chaunced to fall into prattle thus Sir quoth I if I might wiâ—h many question 's not be offensiue I woulde faine be inquisitiue to knowe as you haue passed along France Germanie the Rine and part of Italie what you haue noted woorthie of memorie Moouing his cappe as a man that was passing courteous he answered thus I tell you sir quoâ—h he as a foolish quesâ—ion merites silence so a familiar demaunde craues a friendly replie of duety although Zeno the philosopher counted it more honour to be a silent naturallâ—st than an eloquent Oratour But as I am not a Gymnosophist to iangle at euery Sophisticall Obiection so I am not a seuere Stoicke to answere but by Syllables and therfore thus to your question After I had cut from Douer to Calice I remâ—mbred what olde Homer writte of Vlysses that he coueted not onely to sée strange Countries but with a déepe insight to haue a view into the manners of men so I thought as I passed thorough Paris not onelie to please mine eie which the curious Architecture of the building but wiâ—h the diuerse disposition of the inhabitaâ—tes I fâ—unde therfore the Court for I aime first at the fayrest to haue a King fit for so royall a Regiment if hee had â—eene as perfect in true Religion as pollitique in Martiall Discipline thâ— Courâ—â—ers they as Arisâ—ippus fawâ—de vpoâ— Dyonisius turning like to the Cameleon into the likenesse of euerie Obiect that the King proffâ—red to their humorous conceits for if the king smiled euery one in the Court was in his iollitie if he frownd their plumes fell like the peacocks feathers so that their outward presence dependâ—d on his inward passions Generally so but particularly thus the French Gentlemen are amorous as soone perswaded by the beauty of their mistresse to make a braule as for the maintenance of religion to enter â—rmes their eyes are like Salamander stones that fier at the sight of euery flame their hearts as queasie as the mineralls of Aetna that burne at the heate of the sunne and are quencht with the puffe of euery winde They count it Courtlike to spende their youth in courting of Ladies and their age in repenâ—ing of sinnes yet more forward in the one than deuout in the other They bandy glaunces vpon euery face and as though they would approoue euery passion for a principle they set downe the pâ—riod with a deepe sigh yet as the breath of a man vpon stâ—â—le no sooner lighteth on but it leapeth off is the beginning and ending of their loues Thus much for thâ—iâ— amourâ— Now for their aâ—ms they be hardy souldiors and râ—sâ—lâ—â—e For their faith friendship religion or other parâ—icular qualities for there is a league betwixt vs them I wil spare to speak least in bâ—ing Satyricall I should plod too far with Diogenes or in flattering their faults or their follies I shold claw a fooles shoulder with Dauus in Terence skipping therefore from them to the Germans Nay stay sir quoth I before you passe the Alpes giue me leaue to holde you an houre still in Lions for though you be a Palmer and religious yet I hope such deepe deuotion rested not in you but an ounce of Venus fauours hung in your eies and when you had spâ—nt the morning in orisons you could in the afternoone lend a glaunce to a faire Lady The egle soares not so hie in the aire but â—e can spie a little fish in the sea the sunne in Cancer goes retrograde the coldest clime hath his summer and Apollo was neuâ—r so stoicall but semâ—l in anno he could let fall a smile and the most seuere pâ—lgrime or palmer hath an eye well 〈◊〉 a heart and a looke to lend to beauty as a thought to bend to Theology Therfore I pray you what thinke you of the French women at this question although his grauity was great yâ—t with a pleasant countenance he made this reply although fire is hote as well in the coldest region of the North as in the furthest Southerne paralell the grasse of the same colour in Egypt as it is in Iewry and women wheresoeuer they be brâ—d be mala necessaria yet though their general essence be all one as comming from Eua and therefore froward inconstant light amorous dâ—câ—itfullâ— and quid non better desciphered by Mantuan than I can make description of yet as the Diamonds in India be more harde than the Cornish sâ—onâ—s in England as the margarites of the west are more orient than the pearles of the Souâ—h so womens affections are â—ffected after the disposition of the clime whâ—rein they are borne although Auycen in his Aphorismes settes downe this conclusion that thornes no where growe without prickes nor nettles without stings but leauing off these preambles thus to your quâ—stion The women in France generally as concerning the exteriour â—iniamâ—nts of their outward perfection are beautifull as being westernly seated neere great Brittaine where nature siâ—s hatcheth beauteous paramours yet although naturâ— naturans hath shewed her cunning in their purtraiturs as women that thinke nothing perfect that Arte hath not pollished they haue drugges of Alexandria mineralls of Egypt waters from Tharsuâ— paintings from Spaine and what to doe forsooth To make them more beautifull than vâ—rtuous and more
they excéede in yeres excell in vertues but thou Francesco are like to the Halciones which being hatcht white as milke grow to be as blacke as Ieat the yong storkes haue a musical voyce â—ut the old a fearfull sound When thou wert of small age men honored thée for thy qualities now in yeares shall they hate thée for thy vices But to what ende tendes this large preamble to checke thy fondnesse that must leaue to loue and learne to lust What leaue to loue Isabel whose beautie is deuine whose vertues rare whose chastitie loyall whose constancie vntainted And for whom for the loue of some vnknowen Curtizan Consider this Francesco Isabel for thy sake hath left her parents forsaken her friends reiected the world and was content rather to brook pouertie with thée than possesse wealth with her father Is shee not faire to content thine eye vertuous to allure thy minde nay is she not thy wife to whom thou art bound by lawe loue and conscience and yet wilt thou start from her what froÌ„ Isabel Didst thou not vowe that the heauens should be without lampes the earth without â—easâ—s the world without Elements before Isabel should be forsaken of her Francesco And wilt thou prooue as fâ—lse as she is faithfull Shall she like Dido crie out against Aeneas like Phillis against Demophon like Ariadne against Theseus and thou be canonized in the Chronicles for a man full of periurie Oh consider Francesco whome thou shalt lose if thou losest Isabel and what thou shalt gaine if thou winnest Infida the one being a louing wife the other a flattring Courtisan Hast thou read Aristotle and findest thou not in his Philosophie this sentence set downe Omne animal irrationale ad sui similem diligendum natura dirigitur And wilt thou that art a creature indued with reason as thou art excelling them in wisedome excéede them in vanities Hast thou turnd ouer the liberall sciences as a scholer and amongst them all hast not found this general principle that vnitie is the essence of amitie and yet wilt thou make a diuision in the greatest simpathie of all loues Nay Francesco art thou a Christian and hast tasted of the swéâ—t fruites of Theologie and hast not read this in holy writâ— pend downe by that miracle of wisedome Salomon thâ—â— he which is wise should reiect the strange woman and not regard not the swâ—etnesse of hir flâ—ttrie Desire not the beautie of a strange woman in thy heart nor be not intrapped in her eye liddes For through a whorish woman a mâ—n is brought to a morsell of bread and a woman will hunt for the precious life of a man Can a man take fire in his bosome not be burnt Or can a man tread vpon coales and not be scorched So he that goeth to his neighbors wife shall not be innocent whosoeuer toucheth her Men do not despise a theefe when hee stealeth to satisfie his soule but if he be found he shall restore seuen folde or giue all the substaunce of his house But he that committeth adultrie with a woman he is destitute of vnderstanding hee that dooth it destroyeth his owne soule He shall finde a wound and dishooour and his reproach shall neuer be put away If then Francesco Theologie tells thée such axiomes wilt thou striue against the streame and with the déere féede against the winde Wilt thou swallow vp sinne with gréedines that thou maist be punished without repentance No Francesco home to the wife of thy youth and drinke the pleasaunt waters of thine owne well And what of all these friuolous circumstances Wilt thou measure euerie action with philosophie or euerie thought with Diuinitie Then shalt thou liue in the world as a man hated in the world What Francesco hee that is afraid of euerie bush shal neuer proue good huntsman and he that at euerie guâ—t puts to the Lee shall neuer be good Nauigator Thou art now Francesco to be a Louer not a Diuine to measure thy affections by Ouids principles not by rules of Theologie and time present wills thee to loue Infida when thou canst not looke on Isabel distance of place is a discharge of dâ—â—iâ— and men haue their falts as they are ful of fancies What the blind â—ates manie a flie and much water runnes by the mill that the Miller neuer knowes of the euill that the eye sâ—es not the heart rues not Castè si non cautè Tush Francesco Isabel hath not Lynceus eyes to sée so farre Therfore while thou art resident in LoÌ„don enioy the beautie of Infida and when thou art at home onely content thée with Isabel so with a small fault shalt thou fully satisfie thine own affection Thus Francesco soothed himselfe and did In vtramâ—is aurem dormire caring little for his good as long as he might please his newe Goddesse and making no exception of a wife so he might bee accepted of his paramour To effect therfore the desired end of his affects he made himselfe as neate and quaint as might be and hied him to his newe Mistresse house to put in practise that which himselfe had purposed whether in the afternoone ariuing he vnderstood by her chamber maide that she was at home and solitarie by her therefore hee was conducted to Infidas closet wher he found her séeming melancholy and thus awaked her from her dumpes Fair Mistres haile to your person quiet to your thoghts and content to your desires At my first comming into your chaÌ„ber séeing you sit so melancholy I thought either Diana sate musing on the principles of her modestie or Venus malecontent dumping on her amours for the shewe of your vertues represents the one the excellence of your beauties discouers the other but at last when the glister of your beautie surpassing theÌ„ both reflected like the pride of Phoebus on my face I perceiued it was my good Mistres that discontented sate in her dumpes wherefore as your bounden seruant if either my word or sword may frée you from these passions I am here readie in all actions howsoeuer preiudiciall to shew the effect of my affection Infida glad to sée her Louer in this Laborinth wherein to binde him sure she taking him by the hand made this wilie aunswere Swéete seruant how discontent soeuer I séeme dismay not you for your welcome is such as you can wish or the sinceritie of my heart afford wâ—mens dumps growe not euer of a preiudicial mishap but oftimes of some superficiall melancholy inforced with a frowne and shaken off with a smile hauing sorrow in their faces and pleasure in their heart resembling the leaues of the liquorice that when they are most full of dâ—aw without are then most dry within I tell you seruant women are wily cattle therefore haue I chosen so gâ—â—d a heardsman as your selfe that what our wantonnes offends your wisedome may amend But trust me Francesco were I wronged by Fortune or iniured by â—nie foe the promise of such a
Her starrie lookes her Christall eyes Brighter than the Sunnes arise Sparkling pleasing flames on fire Yoakt my thoughts and my desire That I gan crie ere I blin Oh her eyes are paths to sin Hâ—r face was faire her breath was sweete All her lookes for loue was meete But loue is follie this I knâ—we And beautie fadeth like to snoweâ— Oh why should man delight in pride Whose blossome like a deaw doth glide When these supposes toucht my thought That world was vaine and beautie nought I gan sigh and say alas Man is sinne and flesh is grasse The Palmer hauing ended this Ode sat in a great dump in the garden when his Host accompanied with his wife desirous to heare out Francescos fortune were come into the place and gaue him the bon iorno thus Courteous Palmer a kinde salute to waken you from your mornings meditation I see you keepe the prouerbe for a principle to bed with the Bée and vp with the Larke no sooner the Sunne in the Skie but you are at your Orysons either ruminating passions or penance either some old remembrance or some newe reuerse Howsoeuer gentle Palmer t is no manners to enter toâ— farre into your thoughts and therefore leauing your secrets to your selfe Comâ— statâ— la vosâ—ra signoria quest a matina The Palmer that had learned a little broken Italian seeing his honest host in such a merie moode made this answer Io sto bensignior diâ— merce ringratiandoâ—i sonnamenti di vostra grande corâ—esia holding it fiâ— for my fortunes to haue many cares and little sâ—eepe that my pennance may be great sith my sinnes are many long slumbers are for idle persons not for penitent Palmers and sweete dreames are no instances of hartie deuotion therefore doo I watch with the mouse to argue my selfe miserable and enioyne my selfe to much paines because I am combred wiâ—h many passions This morning entring into this gardenâ— I sawe by the workes of nature the course of the world for when I sawe Floras glorie shut vp in the soldes of Iâ—is frownes I began to consider that the pride of man was like the pompe of a flower that to day glories in the field and to morrowe is in the furnace that we be like the flies Hemerae that take life with the Sunne and dye with the deaw that our honors are compared to the blossomes of a Cedar which vanish ere they begin to burnish and al our triumphs like caracters written in snowe that printed in a vapour at the least Sunne shine discouer our vanitie for they are as soone melted as our pleasures are momentarie Tied by Fates to this tiâ—kle state wee haue nothing more certaine than to dye nor nothing more vncertaine than the houre of death and therefore when I call to minde the follies of my youth how they haue been tickled with vice I eouet in the flower of mine yeares to repent and amend for Nunquam sera est ad bonos more 's via You doo well sir quoth the Gentleman in al your actions to consider the end for he that forerepents foresees many perrillsâ— Had I wist is a great fault and after wits are bitten with many sorrowes therefore such as gréeue at their follies couet to preuent dangerous fortunes they which take an antidote of grace against the deadly aconiton of sinne and with present remorse preuent ensuing vanities such indeed as they liue well shall dye blessed But leauing this humour till another time you may see by our earely rising how my wife and I were delighted with your euenings parâ—ie for trust me sir desire of Francescos further fortunes made vs thus watchfull and therefore seeing the morning is gray and our longing great and yet a good while to breakefast if your leisure may affoord so much I pray you sit downe and tell vs what was the ende of his loues and the effects of his repentance The Palmer verie willing to pleasure his courteous host sat him downe in an Arbour and began thus The Palmers tale of Francesco AS soone as Francesco awakâ— from his slumber and began to enter further into the consideration of Infidas cousenage his heart throbd at his follies and a present passion of his great misfortunes so payned him that all perplexed he began againe to sing his former song and to say that womens thoughts were like to the leaues of a Daâ—e tree that change colours with the windâ— in a moment figuring out sorrowe with teares and in that instant deciphering pleasure with smiles neither too resolute with the Stoickes to yeeld to no passions nor too absolute with the Esseni to surfet with ouer much chastitie their desires quoth he resemble Aeolus forhead that next euery storme contains a calme their déedes are like Almanacks that decipher nothing but vncertaintie either too scrupulous with Daphne to contemne all or too voluptuous with Venus to desire all and straight neither flesh nor fish as the Porpus but time pleasers to content themselues with varietie of fancies In this humorous melancholie hee arose vp and raunged about the Citie despayring of his estate as a man pennylesse and therefore impatient because he knewe not how to redresse his miseries to relie vppon the helpe of a Curtizan he sawe by experience was to hang hope in the ayre to stand vpon the fauour of friends that was bootelesse for he had fewe in the Citie as being but a straunger there and such as he had were wonne with an Apple trencher friends â—nd therefore to bee left with the puffe of the least blast of aduersities To goe home to his wife to faire Isabel that was as hard a censure as the sentence of death for shame of his follies made him ashamed to shewe his face to a woman of so high desarts In this perplexitie he passed ouer three or foure daies till his purse was cleane emptie his score great and his hostesse would trust him for no more money but â—hreatned him if present payment were not made to lay him in prison This newes was hard to Francesco that knewe not how to auoyd the preiudice only his refuge was to preuent such a misfortune to carrie his apparell to the Brokers and with great losse to make money to pay for his diet which once discharged he walkâ— vp and downe as a man forlorne hauing neither coyne nor credite Necessitie that stingeth vnto the quick made him set his wits on the tenter and to stretch his braines as high as Ela to sée how he could recouer pence to defray his charges by any sinister meanes to salue his sorrowes the care of his parents and of his owne honor perswaded him from making gaine by labour he had neuer been brought vp to any mechanicall course of life Thus euery way destitute of meanes to liue he sight out this olde sayd sawe Miserrimum est fuisse beatum yet at last as extremities search very farre he calde to minde that he was a scholler and that
auaileth it to talke of wisedome to a foole or of the wrath of God to a wilfull reprobate The Charmer charme hee neuer so wisely charmes in vaine if the Adder be deaffe and he casteth stones against the winde that seeketh to drawe the wicked from his follie let me therefore poore soule more narrowlie consider mine owne case I am perplexed with diuers doubtfull passions and gréeuous troubles assaileth me on euerie side if I commit this crime though neuer so secretly yet the Lord is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and pearceth into the verie thoughts and mine owne conscience will be a continuall witnesse against me of this wickednesse Stopendium peccatimors then what other hap can I hope for but perpetuall damnation sith the Lord himselfe hath promised to bee a swiâ—â— witnesse against all wilfull adulterers And if I consent not vnto this vnrighteous wretch I am like to be vniustlie accused of the like crime and so shall I being guiltlesse haue mine honour euer blemishe with infamie By this meanes what a discredite shall I bring to my parents to my husband and my children the hoarie haiâ—es of my father shall be brought with sorrowe vnto the graue Francesco shall be ashamed to shewe his face in the streates of the Citie and my 〈…〉 seede of an harlotâ— and 〈◊〉 alas I mâ— self◠〈◊〉 â—acklesse Why my secret offence shal 〈◊〉 al this open shame The Lord is slow to wrâ—th 〈◊〉 his mercie exceedeth al his workes hee wisheth not the death 〈…〉 â—nd 〈◊〉 repentance pacifiâ—th his displeasure But oh vile wretch that I am why doe I blaspheme 〈…〉 the Lâ—â— and his Law why doe A 〈…〉 Câ—n I say I will repâ—â—â— at my 〈◊〉 or shall I 〈◊〉 sinne in hope because the Lorde is merciâ—â—ll 〈◊〉 it iâ— better for me to fall into thy handes 〈…〉 commit the 〈◊〉 than to sinne in the sight of the Lorâ—â— shal I not rather feare God than man and dread him more that killeth both soule and body than him that hâ—th powâ—r 〈◊〉 to kil the bodie onely Yet his feare shall be my defâ—â—ce 〈◊〉 with 〈◊〉 shee raysed her selfe vp spitted in his face and wisht him to doe his worst whereupon â—e calleâ— vp the wâ—tch and commanded her to make hee readie for shâ—â— should to prisoâ— Her Host wondring what the cause should 〈…〉 to her â—ctions and the â—ertue of heâ— life 〈…〉 his word for heâ— that she should the â—ext day 〈◊〉 whatsoeuer should be obiected against herâ— but hiâ— woâ—de woulde not be taken for Bernardo 〈◊〉 â—ull of â—urie caried her away to prison where dâ—epelâ— grieâ—â—d and yet smothering her sorrow wiâ—h patience 〈…〉 next morrow assoone as day brake she cald for pen and inck and wrote this mournfull 〈◊〉 Isabels Sonnet that she made in prison No 〈…〉 For 〈…〉 The 〈…〉 The 〈…〉 Report that sild to honour is a friend May many liâ—s against true meaning mynt But yet at last Gainst slaunders blast Truth doth the silly sackles soule defend Though false reproach seeks honour to distaine And enuy bites the bud though nere so pure Though lust doth seek to blemish â—hast desire Yet truth thaâ— bâ—oâ—kes not falshoods flaunderous staine Nor can the spight of enâ—ies wrath indure Will trie truâ— loue from lust in Iâ—stice fire And mauâ—geâ— all Well free from thrâ—â—â— The guiltles soule that keepes his footing sure Where innocence triumpheth in her prime And guilt cannot approach the honest mind Where chast intent is free from any misse Though 〈◊〉 striue yet searching time With piercing insight will the truth out finde And make discouerie who the guiltie isâ— For time still tries The truth from lies And God makes open what the world doth blinds Veritas Tempâ—ris filia ISabel wetting her sonnet with â—eares and pronouncing euery line with a sigh sate in a dump Whilest the fame of this fact was spread abroad throughouâ— al CaerbraÌ„ck euery man began sundrie coniectures as affection led them her friendes sorrowing suspected the cankred mind of the Burgomaster yet for his calling durst not discouer their suspition hir foes laughing saide that dissembled holynes was a double sinne and that the holiâ—st couâ—â—enaunce hath mischiefes I thought it my duety to bring her into open infamie that she may be punished for her fault knowen for a hâ—rlot and from hencefoorth liue dispised and hated of all For proofe that shee hath liued long in this leawd kinde of life this young man shall here before you all make present deposition and with that he reacht him â— bible whereoâ— he swore that hee had long time conuerst dishonestly with Isabel euer since the departure of her husband At which oath the people that were Iurours in the cause beleeuing the protestation of Bernardo and the deposition of the youth presently found hir guiltie and then Bernardo and the rest of the Bâ—rgomasters gaue iudgement that she should presently haue some open and seueâ—â— punishment after â—t banished â—ut of the town Assoone as Isabel heard the censure she appeald for no mercy nor bashed any whit as one desirous of fauour but lifting vp her eyes to heauen onely sayd thus O God which seest the secrets of all hearts and knowest all things before they come to passe which desâ—erâ—est the very inward thoughts and â—riest the heart and the reines Thou knoweâ—t that because I would not consent vnto the filthie Iust of this â—oting lecher nor agree by defiling my husbands bed to fulfil his fleshly desires that he hath slandred me with that crime wherof I was neuer guilty that he hath produced this young maâ— by sinister subornation to periure himself in a fault wheras not so much as in thought I coÌ„mitted such a fact he hath to satisfie his malicious mind without cause deuised this false crime I confesse O Lordis be a most grieuous offendâ—r and to deserue farre greater punishment but not for this dâ—â—â—e Heare then O Lord my prâ—yer and let the innocence of my case plead before thy deuine maiesâ—y if it be thy will preâ—â—â—â— his 〈◊〉 confound his counsels and let him which hath digged the pit for others fall into the snare himselfe Thou hast neuer as yet O Lorde lets the suâ—câ—â—rles without helpeâ— but hast deliuered them which feare thee froÌ„ al aduersitiâ— thou didâ—se set free Ioseph from the handes of his brethren which sought to spill his bloud and didst preuent the practises of Sâ—â—l inteâ—â—ed against thy seruant Dauidâ— Elizeâ—◠〈…〉 Dotham was not onely freed from his 〈◊〉 but also guarded about with a troupe of holy Angels Elias was â—reserued from the cruelâ—ie of Iesabel and 〈◊〉 with Rauens But chiefly in my case howe mightily â—iâ—st thou 〈◊〉 Susanna from the â—reacherie of the two Elders in raysing vp young Daniel to maintaine her rightâ— Nay 〈◊〉 hath trusted in thy mercie which hath come to mishâ—ppeâ— or who hath put his hope in thee and hath suffered harme So O Lord if it be thy will thou canst disciose the deuise
when I looke on thee I finde â—hee so louely that I count her worse thâ—n accurst would not châ—ose thee for her Paramour With these woordes Mullidor began to smile and trouâ—led his mother ere she had halfe ended heâ— tale on this maâ—ner Mother I may righâ—â—y compare the Church to a lâ—oking glasse for as man may see himselfe in the one and theâ—e see his proportion so in the other the wenches eâ—â—s are a testificate for vppâ—â— whome you seâ— all the girles looke hée for fooâ—e and fare carries away the bell and I am sure for these two yeares I neâ—er come inâ—o the Church and was no sooner set but the wenches began to winke one on another to looke on mée and laugh Oh ware mother when a dogge wagges his taile hée loues his master and when a woman laughs for my life she is ouer the head eares in loue Then if my fortune serue me to be so well thought on why should I not â—enter on her I loue It is mother Seladors daughter Mirimida Now Gods blessing on thy heart quoth Callenâ— for louing such a smugge lasse marrie her my sonne and thou shalt haue my benizon in a clowte Mirimida marie t is no marâ—ell if thy chéekes are fallen for her why she is the fairest bâ—ossome in all the towne to her sonne to her tricke thy selfe vp in thy best reparrell make no bones at it but on a woing for womens desires I may tell thee boy are like childrens fancies won oft with an apple when they refuse an Angell and Mullidor take this with thee and feare not to speede A womans frowne is not euer an instance of choller if she refuse thee outwardlie she regaâ—ds tâ—ee inwardly and if she shake thée vp and bid thée be packing haue the better hope Cats and Dogs come together by sâ—ratching if she smile then sonne say to thy selfe she is thineâ— and yet women are wylâ—e cattel for I haue seene a woman laugh with anger and kisse him she hath desired to kill she will be coâ— Mullidor but care not for that t is but a thing of course speake thou faire promise much praise her higâ—ly commâ—nd her beautie aboue all and her vertue more than all sigh often and shewe thy selfe full of passions and as sure as thy cap is of wooll the wench is thine Mullidor hearing his mother giue such good counsaile sayd he would ieopard a ioynt and the next day haue a fling at her With that he sayd his heart was eased and his stomacke somewhat come downe with her good perswasions whereâ—pon the Amâ—rie was opened and he turned me ouer the cantle of a Chéeâ—e and went to bed The next morning vp he rose and his holy day roabes went on his staâ—d â—ppes â—ewe blackâ— his cappe faire brushâ— and a cleane Lockeram band Thus â—etyred away flings Mullidor to the field and carried away his sheepe led them into the playnes where Mirimida sought to feede her flockes comming there he that Venus fires as well warme the poore as the rich and that deformitie was no meanes to abridge fancie wherevpon she replied thus Why Mullidor are you in loue and with me iâ— there none but Mirimida that can fit your eye bâ—ing so many beautifull damzels in Thessalie take heede man lookâ— before you leap least you fall in the ditch I am not good enough for so proper a man as your selfe esâ—eâ—ially being his mothers onely sonne what Mullidor let mâ— counsaile you there are more maides than Malkin and the countrey hath such choice as may breede your better content for mine own part at this time I meane not to marry T is no matter quoth Mullidor what you say for my mother tolde me that maides at first would bee coy when they were wooed and mynse it as â—were a mare ouer a mouth full of Thisâ—les and yet were not a whit the worse to be likte for t was a matter of custome Well then Mullidor quoth Mirimida leaue off for this time to talkeâ— of loue and hope the best to morrow perchaunce it will bee better for women are like vnto children that will oft refuse an Apple and straight crie for the paring and when they are most hungrie then for fullennesse fast This Mullidor quoth she is the frowardnesse of loue Marie then quoth he if they haue childrens malladies t were good to vse childrens medicines and that 's a rod for â—e they neuer so froward a ierâ—k or two will make them forward and if that would bring women to a good temper my mother hath a stiffe cudgell and I haue a strong arme Thus these two past away the day till presently they espied a farrâ— off a Gentleman with a Haâ—ke on his fist to come riding towards them who drawing nie and seeing so faire a Nimph raind his horse and stoode still as Acteoâ— when he gazed at Diana at last hee alighted and comming towards her saluted her thus curteouslyâ— Faire viâ—gin when I saw such a sweete Saint with such a crooked Apostle I straight thought Venus had beeâ— walking abrâ—adâ— to take the â—yre with Vulcan but assâ—ne as mine eyes began narrowly to make 〈◊〉 of thy bâ—â—utie I found Vâ—nus â—lemishe with thy rare 〈…〉 sheepe that are folded by suâ—h 〈…〉 are theâ—e shephearâ—s that enioy the presenâ—e of such a beauteous creature no marueâ—â—â— if Apollo became a 〈◊〉 oâ— Mercury a â—eatheard when their 〈◊〉 are recompeâ—st with such loues My selfe faire damasell if either my degree were worthy or my deserts any woâ—lde craue to haue entertainemeÌ„t to become your dutifâ—l 〈…〉 whâ—le Mirimida held downe her head and blushâ— at last lifting vp her eyes full of modestie and her face full of 〈◊〉 coloursâ— such as florish out the fronts of Dianas virgins she made the Gentleman this answere My seruant sit quoth shee 〈◊〉 your worth is far aboue my wealth and your dignity 〈◊〉 high for my degree pâ—ore cuntrie Damoâ—â—â—â— must nâ—t ayme too hie at fortune nor flye too fast in desires least â—ooking at their â—eete with the Peacock they let fall their plâ—â—es and so shame at their owne follies but if my grâ—â— wâ—â—â— so great as to enterteine such seruants I must bestowe vpon 〈◊〉 some changable liuorie to shew the â—arietie of theâ—â— mindsâ— for mens hearts are like to the â—oliâ—e thaâ— will 〈…〉 to all colâ—ors but bleâ— and their thoughâ—â—s into all 〈◊〉 but constâ—ncieâ— In that sit â—ou◠〈◊〉 â—azled and 〈…〉 for Venus 〈…〉 Gentleman tâ—â—s abuâ—e hâ—s patience as a man conceipted in his owne propernesse and especially afore Mirimida thwarteâ— him thus You master meacock that stand vpon the beauty of your churmnilke face as brag with your Buzzard on your fist as a Sow vnder an apple tree know that wee countrey swaines as we are not beholding to Nature for beautie so we little accompt of Fortune for any fauour Tush man my crooke back harboureth more honest conditions than thy fleering countenaunce and these course
Athenians couÌ„ted such men vnworthie their Common wealth as were ingratfull and Plato seeing an vnthankefull man prosper said see men of Greece the Gods are prooued vniust for they haue laden a thistle with fruite VVhen right VVorshipfull these reasons entred into my reach and that I sawe how odious in elder time ingratefull men were to all estates and degrees least I might be stained with such a hatefull blemish hauing receiued many friendly nay fatherly fauours at your â—ands I resolued to indeuour how I might shewe the depth of my affection towards your VVorship I found my abilitie was not â—â—swerable to my desires to proportionate equall requitall to your deserts so that I onely thought to make thankes my pay mistris and so passe ouer your good turne with the old prouerb God and Saint Francis thank you Yet when I perceiued great men had taken little gifts I tooke heart at grasse and imboldened my selfe to present you with a Pamphlet of my penning called my Nunquam sera est which your VVorship so gratefully accepted measuring my will more than the worth that hauing made my second part wherein is discoursed the sequell of Francescoes further fortunes I thought to shrowde it vnder your patronage I haue discouered herein the other follies of his youth and how at last repentance stroke in him such a remorse that his sorrowe for his sinnes were more than the pleasures conceipted in his vanities I haue from the loue of a lasciuious Curtizan brought him to the VVife of his youth the storie necessarie for yong Gentlemen and not offensiue vnto graue eares for the most seuere Stoick of all that seekes a knot in a rush may herein finde some sentence woorth the marking And though you as Virgill hold Ennius yet you may out of his drosse gather some golde They which thinke there is no God to their Goddesse may here finde that wanton loues are the readie paths to preiudice and that effeminate follies are the efficient causes of dyre disparagement and that there is no Iewel like the gift of an honest wife But whatsoeuer it is all is shrowded vnder your fauour which hoping you will as gratefullie patronage as the former I wish your VVorship as manie good fortunes as your self can desire or I imagine Your Worships adopted sonne in all humble dutie to commaund Robert Greene. â—o the Gentlemen Readers health IF Gentlemen I had not promised the further discourse of Francescos fortunes this Pamphlet had not come to the presse but seeing promise vvas debt and sundrie made challenge at the Stationers shoppe that I should bee a man of my word To satisfie therefore al my well wishers I haue written what befell Francesco after he had forsaken his Infida no great aduentures but you may see plotted downe many passions full of repentant sorrowes and reade many of his Sonnets that hee made in remorse of minde such as they bee they are yours or what my pen can doo but looke for it in more deeper matters Yours Robert Greene. In laudem Authoris THough wanton Horace writ of Loues delite And blythlie chaunted of his lasse Bonny and bright as any glasse Yet did the Poet Odes and Satyres write Wherein he taught fond youth That follie hatchethruth And with his toyes Mixt vertues ioyes So by his workes he reapt immortall praise Let him that writes the fall of Louers fits Of beautie and her scortching fires And fancie and her fond desires If vnto vertues lâ—re he wrest his wits And pen downe follies fall Whereto yong youth is thrall Haue honor then To grace his pen But enuie liues too much in these our daies Richard Hake Virtutis comes inuidia R. S. THe Bee is praisde for labour not for ease The more she workes the richer is her hiue The little Ant that teacheth man to thriue Is fam'd for that her labours neuer cease The more the fruite more precious is the tree The more the fish more valued is the streame The sweetest night when many stars doo gleameâ— The better ground that brings most graine we seâ— The more it workes the quicker is the witâ— The more it writes the better to be steemed By labour ought mens wills and wits bâ— deemed Though dreaming dunces doo inueigh against it But write thou on though Momus sit and frowne A Cartâ—rs Iigge is fittest for a Clowne Bonum quo communius eo melius Greenes Neuer too late Nunquam sera est ad bonos more 's via NO sooner did Phoebus burnish the heauen with his brightnesse and deckt in a glorious diadem of chrisolites had mounted him on his Coach to lighten the Lampe that makes Flora beauteous but the Palmer was vp and at his Orysons beeing as deuoute in his thoughts as hee was mindfull of his trauels walking in the garden all alone and seeing the Sunne new peeping out of the East he began to meditate with himselfe of the state of man comparing his life to the length of a spanne or the compasse of the Sunne who rising bright and orient continueth but his appointed course and that ofttimes shadowed with so many Clowdes and strainde with a sable vale of such thicke fogges that he is more darkened with sâ—ormes than beautified with light and if it fortune his shine is without blemish yet he setteth and that more oft in a folde of Clowdes than in a cléere Skie so man borâ—â—â—n the pride of beautie or pompe of wealth bee his honors equall with his fortunes and hee as happie as Augustus yet his life hath but his limittes and that clogged with so many cares and crosses that his daies are more full of miseries than of pleasures and his disasâ—er mishaps are more than his prosperous fortunes but if the starres grace him with all fauourable aspects and that hée liue full of content in many honours and much wealth yet his prime hath his Autum his faire blossomes turnes to tawnie leaues age will shake him by the shoulder and nature will haue his due that at last he must set with the Sunne and perhaps in such a clowde of sinne as his rising may be in a storme of sorrowes Thus did the Palmer meditate with himselfe â—éeing penitent for the follies of his youth that at last thinking to be as musicall to himselfe as the birds were melodious he chaunced out this Oâ—e The penitent Palmers Ode Whilome in the winters rage A Palmer old and full of age Sat and thought vpon his youth With eyes teares and harts ruth Being all with cares yblent When he thought on yeares mispent When his follies came to minde How fond loue had made him blinde And wrapt him in a â—ield of woâ—s Shadowed with pleasures shoes Then he sighed and said alas Man is sinne and flesh is grasse I thought my mistris haires were goldâ— And in their lockes my heart I folde Her amber tresses were the sight That wrapped me in vaine delight Her Iuorie front her pretiâ— chin Were stales that drew me on to sin