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
of plaies that Menander deuiseâ— thâ—â— for the sâ—ppressing of vanities necessarie in a common weâ—â—â—â— as long as they are vses in their right kind the play makers worthy of â—onour for their Arte plaâ—erâ—â— men deseruing both prayâ—e and profite as long as they waâ—â—â—â—ther couetous nor insolent I haue caused you 〈◊〉 â—uoth yâ— gentlemaÌ„ to make â— large digressioÌ„â— but yâ—u haue resolued me in a matter that I long doubted of and therefore I may 〈◊〉 againe to Francesco Why then thus quoth thâ— Palmerâ— After he grew excellent for making of Comedies he waâ—t not onely braue but full of Crownes which Infida hearing of and hauing intelligence what course of life he did takeâ— thought to cast foorth her lure to râ—claime him though by her vnkindnesse he was proued haggard for she thought that Francesco was such a â—ame foole that he would he brought to strike at any stale â—ecking her selfe therefore as gorgiously as she could painting her face with the choyce of all her drugges she walkâ— abroade where shee thought Francesco vsed to take the ayre Loue and Fortune ioyning in league so fauoured her that according to her desire she met him At which incounter I gesse more for shame than loue she blasht and fild her countenaunce with such repentant remorse yet hauing her lookes full oâ— amorous glaunces that she seemed like Venus reconciling her selfe so froward Mars The sight of Infida was pleasing in the eyes of Francesco and almost as deadly as the basilisk that had hee not had about him Moly as Vlisses he had been inchaunted by the charmes of that wylie Circes but the abuse so sâ—ucke in his stomack that she had profered him in his extremitie that he returned all her glaunces with a frowne and so parted Infida was not amaâ—ed with his angry moode as one that thought loues furnace of force to heatâ— the coldest Amatist and the sweâ—te words of a woman as able to drâ—w on desire as the Syrens melody the passengers What quoth shee though for a while he be cholerick Beautie is able to quench the â—â—ame as it sets hearts on fire as Helens faultes angred Paris so her fauours pleasd Paris though she were false to Menelaus yeâ— her faire made him brook her follieâ— Women are priuiledgd tâ— haue their words and theyr wilâ— and whome they kill with a â—rowne they can reuiue with â— smile Tush Francesco is not so froward but he may hee wonne hee is nâ— Saturnist to beare anger long hee is soone hot and soone colde cholerick and kinde harted who though 〈◊〉 be scoâ—ded away with bitter words 〈◊〉 will be reclaimed againe with sweete kissesâ— a womans teares are Adamâ—nt and men are no harder than Ironâ— and therefore may â—ee drawne to pitie their passions I will faine flaâ—ter and what not to get againe my Francesco for his purse is ful and my coffers wax emptie In this humor taking pen and paper she wrote a letter to him to this effect Infida to Francesco wisheth what he wants in health or wealth IF my outward penaunce Francesco could discouer my inward passions my sigheâ— bewray my sorrowes or my countenaunce my miseries then should I looke the most desolate of all as I am the most distrest of all and the furrowes in my face â—ee numberlesse as the griefes of my heart are matchles But as the feathers of yâ— Halciones glister most against the â—orest storme and Nylus is most calme against a delugeâ— so the sorrowes of my minde are so great that they smother inwardly though they makâ— no outâ—â—rd appearance of mishap All these miseries Francesco grow from the consideration of mine owne discâ—â—â—esies for when I thinke of thy constancie thy faith thy â—â—â—ture and thy beautie and weigh with my selfe how all these vâ—wed vnto Infida they were lost by the disloyaltie of Infida I caâ—â— iâ— in question whether I had better dispaire and die or in â—ope of thy fauour linger oâ—â— my life Penaunce of freewill merits pardons of course and griefes that grow from remâ—rse deserue to â—ee salued with ruâ—h I confesse Francesco that I wrongd theâ— and therefore I am wroong at yâ— hearâ— but so doth the 〈◊〉 of thy perfection the excellence of thy â—â—â—tues 〈…〉 in my heart 〈◊〉 although thâ—â— shouldest vow tâ— loâ—th me I 〈◊〉 ceasâ— to â—oue thee Oâ— consider 〈◊〉 haue their fâ—ults 〈◊〉 their foâ—lâ—eâ— act yâ— in an houre which they repâ—t aâ— their life alter Though Mars Venâ—◠〈◊〉 they were friends after 〈◊〉 for 〈…〉 and forget Francesco then hartelie that I repent so deepely grace thy Infida againe with one smile ease her impatient passions with thy sweete presence and assure thy selfe shee will satisfie with loue what shee hath offended with follie Bones that are broken after set again are the more stronger where the Beech Tree is â—ut there it growes most hard reconciled friendship is the sweetest amitie Then be friends with thy Infida looke on her and but visite her and if shee winne not thy loue with her wordes and shewe her selfe so penitent that thou shalt pardon then let her perish in her owne misfortunes and die for the want of thy fauour Farewell Thine euer dispayâ—ing Infida THis letter shee sealed vp and sent it by a secret friend to Francesco who at the first knowing from whence it came would scarcely receiue it yet at last willing to heare what humor had made the Curtizan write vnto him hee â—roke â—pe the seales and read the former contents which when he had throughly perusedâ— hee found himselfe perplexed for the cunning of her flatterie made yâ— poore man passionate In somuch that sitting down with the letter in his hand he began thus to meditate with himselfe Why doost thou vouchsafe Francesco to looke on her letters that is so lewd to view her lines that are powdred with flatterie to heare her charmes that seekes thy preiudice to listeâ— to such a Calipso that almes onely at thy substaÌ„ce not at thy person Whilt thou werâ— poore her forhead was full of frowns and in her looâ—â— sate the stormes of disdaine but when the sées thou â—ast fethered thy â—est hast crowns in thy purse shee would play the hors-leâ—ch to â—uck awaie thy wealth nâ—w would shee be 〈◊〉 harts gold while she â—est thee not one draâ— of goâ—â—e Oh Francesco she â—ides her â—lawes 〈◊〉 looâ—â—s â—or her pray with the â—yâ—er she weepes with the Crocodile and smiles with the Hiâ—na and â—â—â—tters with the Panther and vnder the couerâ— of a 〈…〉 shrowdes the intent of thy â—aâ—e Knowest thou not that aâ— the Marble drâ—pâ—s against rayne 〈◊〉 their teares foâ—â—poynt mischiefe that the sauours of a Curtizan are like the songâ— of the Grashoper that euer fortel some fatal disparagement Beware then Francesco Piscaâ—â—â— actuâ— sâ—plâ— shee hath once burnt thee feare fire with the Chilâ—â— shee hath crost thee with disdaine couet not her with desiâ—â—â— hâ—â—e hâ—â— â—or in loathing
ad igâ—em that hée did calescere pluâ— quam saetis for as none comes néere the fume of the Misselden but he waxeth blind nor any touch the Salamander but he is troubled with the palsie so none could gaze on the face of Mirimida 〈◊〉 they went away lâ—nguishing This did poore Eâ—rymachus experience for although he knewe Loues fires were fatall and did not warme but scortch yet he loued with the bird â—o flie to the â—lame though he burne his wings and fell in the â—ush he would not with Vlisses stop his eares but sit and sing with the Syreus he feared no inchantment but caroust with Circes till his ouerdaring drewe him into a passionate danger and so long suckt in the beautie of Mirimida with his euer thirstie eyes till his hart was fuller of passions than his eyes of affections yet discouer his thoughts he durst not but smoothered vp his inward paynes with outward silence hauing the Ouen the hatter within for that it was damâ— vp and his greâ—fes the deeper for that they were concealed To maâ—ifest his maladie to her he durst noâ— he thought himselfe too homely a patient for such a Phisition to vtter his loueâ— to another and make any his Secretarie but himselfe he supposed was to drawe in a riuall to his loues Thus was Eurymachus perplexed till at last to giue a little â—ent to the flame sitting on a day on a hill hée puld foorth pen and incke and wrote this fancie Eurymachus fancie in the prime of his affection When lordly Saturne in a sable roabe Sat full of frownes and mourning in the West The euening starre scarce pâ—â—pt from out her lodge And Phoebus nowly gallopt to his rest Euen thâ—n Did I Within my boate sit in the silent streames All voyd of cares as he that lies and drâ—amâ—s As Phao so a Ferriman I was The countrie lasses sayd I was too faire With easie toyle I labourd at mine â—are To passe from side to side who did repaire And then Did I For painâ—s take pence and Charon like transport Assoone the swayne as men of high import When want of worke did giue me lâ—aue to rest My sport was catching of the wanton fish So did I weare the tedious time away And with my labour mended oft my dishâ— For why I thought That idle houres were Calenders of ruthâ— And time ill spent was preiudice to youth I scornd to loue for were the Nimph as faâ—re As she that loued the beauteous Latmian swayne Her face her eyes her tresses nor her browes Like Iuorie could my affection gaine Forâ— by I said With high disdaine Loue is a base desire And Cupids flames why the are but â—atrie fire As thus I sat disdayning of proud loue Haue euer Fâ—rriâ—â—â— there cried a boy And with him was a paragon for buâ— A louely 〈◊〉 beauteous and coy And â—â—ere With her A maiden couered with a tâ—â—nie valâ— Her face vnseene far breeding louers balâ— I stird my boate and when I came to shoare The boy was wingd me thought it was a wonder The dame had eyes like lightning or the flash That runnes before â—he 〈◊〉 report of thunder Her smiles Were sweetâ— Louely her face was neere so faire a creature For earthly carkâ—sse had a heauenly feature My friend quoth she 〈…〉 behold We three must passe but not afâ—r thing fare But I will giue for 〈◊〉 Queene of lâ—ue The brightest lasse thou lik'st vnto thy share Choose where Thou â—â—est Be she as faire as Loues sweete Ladiâ— is She shall 〈◊〉 if 〈◊〉 will be thy blisse With that she smiled with such a pleasing face As might haue made the marble rocke relent But that I triumphâ— in disdaine of loue Bad 〈◊〉 on him 〈◊〉 â—o fond loue was bent And then Said thus So light the Ferriman for loue doth care As Venus passe not if she pay no fâ—râ— At thiâ—â—â— a frowne â—at on her angrie brow She winkes vpon her wanton sonne hard by He from his quiuer drow a bolt of fire And aymd so right as that he pearst mine eye And then Did she Draw downe the vâ—le that hid the virgins face Whose heauenly beautiâ— lightned all the place Straight then I leande mine arme vpon mine eare And â—ookt vpon the Nymph if so was faire Her eyes were starres and like Apollos loâ—ks Me thought appeard the tramels of her haire Thus did I gaâ—e And suckt in beautie till that sweete desire Cast fueâ—â— on and set my thought on fire When I was lodgd within the net of loue And thâ—t they saw my heart was all on flame The Nymph away and with her trips along The winged boy and with her goes his dame Oh then I cried Stay Ladies stay and take not any careâ— You all shall passe and pay no penny fareâ— Away they fling and looking coylie backe They laugh at me oh with a loude disdaine I send out sighes to ouertake the Nimphs And tâ—â—res aâ— lures to call them backe againe But â—â—ey Flie â—hence But I sit in my boatâ— with 〈…〉 And feele a pain◠〈◊〉 knowe not what 〈◊〉 sore At last I feele it is the flame of loue I striue but bootlesse to expresse the paine It cooles it fires iâ— hopes iâ— feareâ— iâ— frâ—ts And sâ—irreth passions thrâ—â—ghout euery 〈◊〉 That 〈◊〉 I satâ— And sighing did fairâ— Venus lawes apprâ—â—â— And swore nâ— thing so â—weete and sowre as loue â—râ—â—lorida punguâ—â— Hauing made this Canzon he put it in his bosome and oft when he was by himselfe would reade it easing his passion with viewing the conceipâ—s of his owne fancie on a day hauing brought downe his sâ—eepâ— he espies Mirimida aâ—d to her he goes and after his wonted salutâ— sat downe by her and fell to such â—hat 〈…〉 intâ—rmedling his passion with so 〈◊〉 sighes 〈…〉 his eye so effectually vpon her face without 〈◊〉 that she perceiued the Shepheard had 〈…〉 and that there was none but she that bâ—re the Antidote As thus she noated his passions she espied a 〈◊〉 of paper sticking out of his bosome which she 〈…〉 pâ—â—ceiuing it was a Sonneâ— she read it and thâ—â— loâ—king earnestlie on Eurymachus 〈…〉 and she with a friendly smile began to crosse him 〈◊〉 this 〈◊〉 What Eurymachus 〈…〉 labours wipe away wanton Amours nor thy shâ—â—pes care preuent thy 〈◊〉 loue I had thought fancie 〈◊〉 not 〈◊〉 on thy â—â—ele nor affection presented any obiect â—o thine eye◠〈◊〉 now 〈…〉 the Cameliâ—n cannot liue without ayre 〈…〉 â—er without fire so men 〈…〉 quiet in 〈◊〉 life vnlesse they acquaint them with lâ—ue I see swaynes are not such swads but they haue thoughts and passions and be they neuer so lowe they can looke at beautie Corydon in his gray cassocke had his faire Phillis and Menalcas could court Galatea in his Shepheards cloake and Eurymachus be he neuer so homely will hazarde but at whome there lies the question At whom quoth Eurymachus ah Mirimida at one that is too high for my thoughes and too beauteous
In a surcoate all of gray Such weare Palmers on the way When with scrip and staffe they see Iesus graue on Caluarie A hat of straw like a swaine Shealter for the sonne and raine With a scollop shell before Sandalls on his feete he wore Legs were bare armes vnclad Such attire this Palmer had His face faire like Titans shineâ— Gray and bâ—â—some were his eyne Whereout dropt pearles of sorrow Such sweete teares Loue doth borrow When in outward dâ—awes she plaines Harts distresse that Louers painesâ— Rubie lips cherrie cheekes Such rare mixture Venus seekes When to keepe hir damsels quiet Beautie sets them downe their diet Adon ' was not thought more â—aire Curled lockes of amber haire Lockes where Loue did sit and twine Nets to snare the gazers eyne Such a Palmer nere was seene Lesse loue himselâ—e had Palmer been Yet for all he was so quaint Sorrow did his visage taint Midst the riches of his face Griefe decyphred hiâ— disgrace Euerie step straâ—â—d a â—eare Sodaine sighes shewd his feare And yet his feare by his sight Ended in a strâ—nge delight That his passions did approue Weâ—des and sorrow were for loue Thus attired in his trauelling roabes and leueld out in the lineaments of his Phisâ—â—mie not seeing me that lay close in the thicketh hâ—â—â—ate him downe vnder a Beech tree where after he had taken vp his seate with a sigh he began thus to point out his passions Infortunate Palmer whose wéedes discouers thy woes whose lookes thy sorrowes whose sighes thy repentance thoâ— wandrest to bewayâ—e thy sinne that heretoâ— fore hast not wondred at the greatnesse of sinne and seekest now by the sight of a strange Land to satisfie those solâ—â—es committed in thy Natiue home Why is there more grace in the East than in the Westâ—â— is God more gracious in â—ewrie than mercifull in England more fauourable to Palmers for their trauell than piâ—ifull to sinnerâ— for their penaunce No bee not so superstitious least thou measuring his fauour by circumstaunce hee punish thy faultes in seueritie Ah but the déepest vlcers haue the sharpest corasiues some sores can not be cured but by Sublâ—matum and some offences as they beginne in content so they ende in sackâ—loth I weare not this Palmers gray to challenge grace nor seeke the holy Land to counteruaile the Lawe nor am a Pilgrime to acquittance sinne with penaunce but I content mee in this habite to shewe the meeknes of my hart and trauel through many countries to make other men learâ—e to beware by my harmes for if I come amoÌ„gst youth I will shew them that the finest buds are soonest â—â—pâ— with frosts the sweetest flowers soresâ— eaten with canckars the ripest yongâ—st â—its soonest ouergrowen with follies if I chance among Courtiers I wil tel theÌ„ â—hat as the star Artophilex is brightest yet setteth soonest so their gloâ—â—es bâ—ing most gorgeous are dashâ— with sodainest ouerthrowes if amoÌ„g scholâ—ers I wil proue that their Philosophical axiomes their quiddities of Logicke their aphorisms of art are dissolued with this definit periâ—d Omma sub sole vanitas â— If amongst Louers and with this the teares fell from his eyes and the sighes flew from his hart as if all should split again If quoth he and he doubled his words with an Emphasis I fall amoÌ„gst Louers I will deâ—ypher to them that their God is a boy as fond as he is blinde their Goddesse a woman inconstantâ— false flattring like the windes that rise in the shoares of Lepanthus which in the morning send forth gusts froÌ„ the North and in the Euening calmes from the Westâ— that their fancies are like Aprill showers begun with a Sunne shine ended in a storme their passions déep hels their pleasures Chimeraes portraitures sodaine ioyes that appearing like Iuno are nothing when Ixion toucheth them but duskie fading clowdes Here he stopped and tooke his scrip from his backe and his bottle from his side and with such cates as he had as limons apricocks and oliues he began a palmers banquet which digesting with a cup of wine well teÌ„pred with water after euerie draught he sighed out this Nunquam sera est ad bonos more 's via When he had taken his repast casting vp his eyes to heauen as beeing thankfull for his benefites and sorrowfull for his sinnes falling into a déepe meditation after hee had a while lien as a man in a Traunce he started vp sodainly and with a halfe chéered countenance song out this Ode The Palmers Ode OLde Menalcas on a day As in field this shepheard layâ— Tuning of his oâ—en pipe Which he hit with manie a stripe Said to Coridon that hee Once was yong and full of glee Blithe and wanton was I then Such desires follow men As I lay and kept my sheepe Came the God that hateth sleepe Clad in armour all of fire Hand in hand with Queene Desire And with a dart that wounded nie Pearst my heart as I did lie That when I wooke I gan sweare Phillis beautie palme did beare Vp I start foorth went I With hir face to feede mine eye There I saw Desire sit That my heart with Loue had hit Laying foorth bright Beauties hookes To intrap my gazing lookes Loue I did and gan â—o woe Pray and sigh all would not doe Women when they take the toy Couet to be counted coy Coy she was and I gan court She thought Loue was but a sport Profound Hell was in my thought Such a paine Desire had wrought That I sued with sighes and teares Still ingrate she stopt hir eares Till my youth I had spent Last a passion of Repent Tolde me flat that Desire Was a brâ—nd of Loues fire Which consumeth men in thrall Vertue youth wit and all At this sawe backe I start Bet Desire from my hart Shooke of Loue and made an â—th To be enemie to both Olde I was when thus I fled Such fond â—oyes as cloyde my heaâ— But this I learnd at Vertues gaâ—e The way to good is neuer late Nunquam sera est ad bonos more 's via As soone as he had ended his Ode he fell to his old principle Nunquam sera est and confirming it with a sigh he rose vp was ready to depart towards Bergamo to take vp his lodging for the sâ—nne was declining towardes the West But I desirous to search further into this passionate Palmer crost him the way with this salutation Palmâ—r for so thy apparâ—ll discouers and penitent if thy inward hâ—art agree with thy outward passions if my quesâ—ions may not aggrauate thy griefe nor my demaund be tedious to thy trauels let me craue of curtesie whither thou dost bend the end of thy pilgrimage that if thou beest stept awry I may dirâ—ct thee or if thou knowest the countrey I may wish boone fortune to thy iouâ—ney for I haue all my life time coueted to be faithful to my friends and curteous to strangers The Palmer amazed at my sodaine salutation stept
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
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
the readie way to Dunecastrum Where hee no sooner came but fortune meaning to dally with the olde doteard and to present him a boane to gnaw on brought it so to passe that as he came riding downe the towne he met Francesco and his daughter comming from the Church which although it piercte him to the quicke and strainde euerie sâ—ring of his heart to the highest noate of sorrow yet he concealed it till he tooke his Inne and then stumbling as fast as he could to the Mayors houle of the towne he reuealed vnto him the whole cause of his distresse requiring his fauour for the clapping vp of this vnruly Gentleman and to make the matter the more hamous hee accused him of felonie that he had not onely contrarie to the custome bereft him of his daughter against his wil but with his daughter had taken away certaine plaâ—e This euidence caused the Mayor straight garded with his Officers to march downe with Fregoso to the place where Isabel and her Francesco were at breakfast little thinking poore soules such a sharp storme should follow so quiet a calme but fortune would haue it so And therefore as they were carrowsing each to other in a swéete frolicke of hoped for content the Mayor rusht in and apprehended him of felonie which draue the poore perplexed louers into such a dumpe that they sâ—ood as the pictures that Perseus with his shield turnde into stones Francesco presently with a sharpe insight entred into the cause and perceiued it was the drift of the olde foxe his father in lawe wherefore he tooke it with the more patience But Isabel séeing her new husband so handled fell in a swownd for sorrow which could not preuaile with the Serieants but they conueyed him to prison and her to the Mayors house As soone as this was done Fregoso as a man carelesse what should become of them in a straunge Countrey tooke horse and rode home hee past melancholy and these remained sorrowfull especially Isabel who after shee had almost blubbred out her eyes for griefe fell at length into this passion Infortunate Isabel and therefore infortunate because thy sorrowes are more than thy yeares and thy distresse too heauie for the prime of thy youth Are the heauens so vniust the starres so dismal the planets so iniurious that they haue more contrarie oppositions than fauourable aspects that their influence doth infuse more preiudice than they caÌ„ inferre profite Then no doubt if their motions be so maligne Saturne conspiring with all his balefull signes calculated the hower of thy birth full of disaster accidents Ah Isabel thou maist sée the birds that are hatched in Winter are nipt with euerie storme such as flie against the Sunne are either scorched or blinded those that repugne again nature are euer crost by fortune Thy father foresaw these euills and warned thée by experience thou reiectedst his counsaile and therefore art bitten with repentaunce such as looke not before they leape ofte fall into the ditch and they that scorne their parents cannot auoyd punishment The yong Tygers followe the braying of their olde sire the tender Fawnes choose their foode by the olde Bucke These brute beasts and without reason stray not from the limits of nature thou a woman and endued with reason art therefore thus sorrowfull because thou hast been vnnaturall Whether now Isabel What like the shrubbes of India parched with euerie storme Wilt thou resemble the brookes of Caruia that drie vp with euerie Sunne-shine Shall one blast of Fortune blemish all thy affection one frown of thy father infringe thy loue toward thy husband Wilt thou bee so inconstant at the first that hast promised to bee loyal euer If thou béest daunted on thy marriage day thou wilt be fléeting hereafter Didst thou not choose him for his vertues and now wilt thou refuse him for hiâ— hard fortunes Is hee not thy husband yes and therefore more déere to thée than is thy Father I Isabel and vpon that resolue least hauing so faithfull a Troilus thou prooue as hatefull a Cressyda sorrowe Isabel but not that thou hast followed Francesco but that Francesco by thée is fallen into such misfortunes séeke to mitigate his maladies by thy patience not to incense his griefe with thy passions courage is knowen in extremities womanhood iâ— distresse and as the Chrisolite is prooued in the fire the diamond by the anuill so loue is tried not by the fauour of Fortune but by the aduersitie of Time Therefore Isabel Feras non culpes quòd vitari non poâ—es and with Tully resolue thus Puto rerum humanarum nihil esse firmum Ita nee in prosperis laâ—itia gostâ—s nec in aduersis dolore concides With this she held heâ— peace and rested silent so behauing her selfe in the Mayors house with such modestie and patience that as they held her for a paragon of beautie so they counted heâ— for a spectacle of vertue thinking her outward proportion was farre inferiour to her inward perfection so that generally she wan the hearts of the whole house in that they pitied her case and wished her libertie Insomuch that Francesco was the better vsed for hir sake who being imprisoned gréeued not at his owne sinister mishap but sorowed for the fortune of Isabel passing both day and night with manie extreame passions to thinke on the distresse of his beloued paramour Fortune who had wrought this tragedie intending to shewe that her frunt is as full of fauours as of frownâ—s and that shee holdes a dimple in her chéeke as she hath a 〈◊〉 in her brow began thus in a Comicall vaine to bee pleasant After manie daies were passed and that the Mayor had eâ—â—red into the good demenor oâ— them bâ—th noting that it procéeded rather of â—he â—ispleasure of her father than for anie special â—â—sart of felonie seeing youth would haue his swinge and that as the mineralls of Aetna stooue fire as the leaues in Parthia burne with the Sunne so yong yeares are incident to the heate of loue and affection will burst into such amorous parties He not as Chremes in Terâ—nce measuring the flames of youth by his dead cinders but thinking of their present fortunes by the follies of his former age called a Conuenticle of his Brethren and séeing ther was none to giue any further euidence thought to let Francesco lose Hauing their frâ—e consent the next day 〈◊〉 Isabel with him hee went to the Iayle where they heard such rare 〈◊〉 of the behauiour of Francesco that they sorrowed not so much at his fortunes as â—hey wondred at his â—ertues for the Iayler discourst vnto them how as he was greatly passionate so he vsed great patience hauing this vâ—â—s oft in his mouth Fortiter ille fâ—cit â—qâ—i miser esse poâ—est That he was affable and courteous winning al and offending none that all his house as they greeuâ—d at his imprisonment would be sorâ—ie at his enlargement not for enuie of his person but for sorrowe
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
such a one thou louest thy GOD. Returne not with the dog to the vomit wallow not with â—wine in the myre foresee not the best follow the worst And 〈◊〉 Francesco trust me shee is faire beaâ—tifull and wise I but with that a Curtizanâ— perhaps she will now loue thee faithfullyâ— if she doe fond man is not her hartie liking hatefull luâ—tâ— dangeroâ—s to thy bodie and damnation to thy Soule T is a saying not so common as true that he which looketh continually against the Sunne shall at laâ—â— be blindâ—â— that who so handleth pitch must needes be deâ—iled the tree 〈◊〉 abideth many blasts at last falleth by the Carpenter 〈◊〉 thâ— bird yâ— striketh at euery stale cannot long escape the 〈◊〉 â—o long goeth the pitcher to the brookeâ— that at last it â—omes broken home and hee that securely swimmeth in 〈◊〉 shall surely be drowned in iniquitie who so â—indeth sins together shall neuer be neuer be vnreueâ—gâ—d in the one and he that delighteth to offend in youth shall no doubt feâ—le the pâ—nishment Quod defirâ—ur nâ—n â—nfertur Though GOD for a time suffer a man to wallow in his owne wickâ—â—nesse and to say vnto his soule Tush the Lord regardeth not the way of sinne 〈…〉 seeme the more and thy sinne the greater He that hath the dropsie drinketh while he bursteth and yet not 〈◊〉 the Horseleach hath two daughters that neuer trie â—â—â—ugh who so is slung with the Serpent Dipsas burneth â—ut can neuer be câ—â—led and who so is inflamed with sinne thirsteth continuallie after wickednesâ— vntill he hath sâ—ppeâ— the dregges of Gods displeasure to his owne destruction Beware by this fall not into the trap when thou feeâ—â— the traine for knowing the sinne if thou offendest against thine own conscience the Lord will send vpon thee cursing trouble and shame in all that thou settest thy hand vnto and will not cease to reuenge vntill thou perish from off the face of the earth Oh hast thou not at home an Isabel that is the wife of thy youth and the onely friend of thy bosome indued with such exquisitâ— beautie and exceâ—ding vertue that it is hard to iudge whether the pure complexion of her bodie or the perfect constiâ—ution of hâ—r minde holds the supremacie And is not a peaceable woman and of a good heart the giâ—t of the Lord There is nothing so much worth as a woman well instructedâ— a shame fast and faithfull woman is a double grace and there is no treasure to bee compared to her continent mind but as the glistering beames of yâ— sun when it ariseth decketh the heauen so the beautie of a good wife adorneth the house as golden pillers â—â—e shine vpon the sockets of siluer so doth a faire face in a vertuous minde Shall the fear of God then Francesco be so farre from thine eyes as to leaue thine owne wife and imbrace a Curtizan to leaue the law of God and suffer thy heart to be subuerted by â—uâ—t The Lyon so abhorreth this crime as he killeth the Lyonesse for commitâ—ing this facâ— Thâ— Storke neuer mâ—dlet◠〈◊〉 with â—is 〈◊〉 The Iaciâ—th 〈◊〉 wâ—â— not be worâ—e on the 〈◊〉 of 〈…〉 nor the Oliue grow if plâ—â—ed 〈◊〉 one thaâ— lendeth his life in vnlawfull lusts and wilâ— thou 〈◊〉 thy self more â—aâ—â—les in this crime than 〈…〉 more â—â—ckles thâ—â— vnreasonable creatures more 〈◊〉 than 〈◊〉 â— yâ—a far lesse in vertue than a man far 〈…〉 vice thaÌ„ a beast TheÌ„ 〈◊〉 the Lord lâ—ok down from heauen and plague thée with a heauy 〈◊〉 At this â—â—â—use standing a great while in a maze at last hee stepe to hâ—s 〈◊〉 and wrote this answere Francesco wisheth to Infida remorse of conscience regard of honesty I Haue read thy letters Infida wherin I hoped to haue 〈◊〉 more honesty and lâ—sse vaniâ—y a signe of better thoughâ—â—â— and lines of more remorse else had I lefâ— them sealed as I câ—uet to leaue thee vnseene But I perceiâ—e as no time wil alter the Panther from his spots the Mouse from hir feare nor the Tyger froÌ„ his fearcenes so neithâ—r date nor reason will change the conditioÌ„s of a Curtizan Thou writest thou are peâ—iâ—â—â—â— so I think but it is noâ— for thy sinnes but that thou hast not libertie enough to â—in enioynd by some ouerthwart neighbour to be more honest than thou woâ—lâ—â—t be which is â—s great a penaÌ„ce to one of thy trade as along pilgrimage to a sâ—â—rowful Palmeâ— A â—eare in a 〈…〉 like heat â—â—ops in a bright 〈…〉 the Crocodile when she weepâ— a Curâ—eâ—â—â—s laughter is like to lightning yâ— beawtifies the â—eauâ—â— for a blâ—ze but foreâ—â—â— stormes and thunder Art thoâ— in loue with Francesco â—â—â—rie gippe Giglet thy loue sits on thy â—onges 〈◊〉 readie to leape off assoone as thy mouthe opeâ—sâ— and thine honesâ—ie hangs at thine â—yeâ— which fallâ— away with euerie 〈…〉 art 〈◊〉 with my be awâ—â— that is because thou hearâ—â—t I haue a rich pâ—rse not afaire faceâ— for thou vaâ—e west as much of beautie without pence as a horse of a foyre â—tablâ— without preneÌ„der Thou art enâ—ised by my vertues I woâ—der how that word vertue comes in thy mouth when it is so far from thy heartâ— and peâ—â—â—oâ—râ—â—â—â—e for the most infectious Serpents haâ—e sweetâ—t breathes â—nd the commoneâ—t Curtezans the most curteous speeches Thou woâ—ldest haue mee gâ—ace thee with my preseâ—â—â—â— and 〈◊〉 our oldâ— friendshippe so I will when â— meane to giue my bodie to yâ— Surgeon my Soule to the Diuell for in louing thee I must needes graunt this Legacie Thy reason is that bones once broken vnited againe are the strongest I would thy neck might make the experience and then I would trust the instance But why peâ—ter I so much paper to so lewâ— a person as I found thee at the first I leaue thee at the last euen empty gordgde to baiâ—e at a full purse inconâ—inient false periured as far from God as thou art friend to the Diuell and so adieu Francâ—sco penitent and therefore a persecuter of curtizans AFter hee had written this letter he sent it to Infida â—horeading it and seeing shee could getâ—e no 〈◊〉 at the hands of Francesco that wrought she neuer so subtillie yet her traines were discouered that her painted luers could noâ— make him stoop so had â—e with reasoÌ„ reâ—elled his former follie wheÌ„ she perceiued I say that all her 〈◊〉 potions were found to â—eâ— poysoâ—s though shee couered them neuer so clarklyâ— she â—el not in dispaire with ouermuch loue but swore in her selfe to intend him some secâ—eâ—e â—â—eiudice if euer it lay in her by any meanes to procure iâ— but leauing her to the Iustice of him that poyseth the deedes of such impenitent persons in his ballance and committing Francesco to the making of some strange comedieâ— I will shew you how Fortune made an assault to the vnfained affection of fayre Isabel. The discourse of Isabels Fortuneâ— ISabel liuing thus pensiue
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—
for my fortunes so that as I haue soared with the Hobby I shall bate with the Bunting daring with Phaeton I shall drowne with Icarus mine eye was too proude my thoughts too forward I haue stared at a â—â—arre but shall stumble at a stone and I feare because I haue ouerlookt in loue I shal be ouerlaid in loue With that he sighed and Mirimida smiled and made this replie Why Eurymachus a man or a mouse what is there any Cedar so high but the slowest snayle will créepe to the top any fortune so base but will aspire any loue so precious but hath his prize What Eurymachus a Cat may looke at a King and a swaynes eye hath as high a reach as a Lords looke Vulcan in his leather sutes courted Venus in her silkes the swayne of Laâ—mos wâ—ed Luna both dareâ— and both had their desires What Loue requires not wealth but courage parentage is not so high prizd by fancie as personage feâ—â—e not man if thou hast lookt hie followe thy thoughâ—s and crie loues fauours for deniall is no dishonour Eurymachus hearing Mirimida in such an amorous humour incouraged by her perswasions thought now to strike while the yron was hot and therefore taking her by the hand began thus Trueth Mirimida Venus â—awes are bounded with constraint and when loue leadeth the eye desire kéepes no compasse when Paris courted Helena though she were coy and denied yet was she not discourteous disdained for she answered thus mildly Nemo etenim succensâ—t amanti This Mirimida makes me hardie to take thee by the hand and Nay quoth Euâ—ymachus and hee tooke her â—ast by the arme if I were sure you had power as Diana had to plague me with Actâ—â—â—â— punishment you passe not without a little more prattle if I anger you t is first a preparation â—o â— good stomacke for â—holler is a friend to digestion secondly as the Chrisocoll and the golde by long striâ—ing together growe to bee one mettall so by oâ—e falling out we shall be beâ—ter friends for Amantium iâ—ae amoris redintegratio est Therefore faire Mistris siâ— still and graunt some fauour to him that is â—e pained with fancie I will loue you though I am poore and a King can doo but so much if you thinke my degrée be toâ— lowe for so high beautie thinke of all parteâ— the meane is the merâ—iest and that the Shepheards gray hath lesse grieâ—e â—hoâ— thâ— Lordly estates I knowe women must be coy because they are women and they must haue time to be wonne or else they would be thought to â—e wantonsâ— therefore whatsoeuer you say now I holde it not authentâ—call yet for that I would haue some hope gooâ— Mâ—rimida let me see thâ—e laugh She could not but smile to see the Shepheard so pleasant and so Eurymathus rested content and from amorâ—us that they fell to talke of other matters till euening grewe on and then they folded their sheepe and with a friendly 〈◊〉 parted Eurymachus was not alone thus 〈◊〉 of the falâ—â— Mirimida buâ— all the Shepheards of Thessalie wriâ— Poâ—ms and Dâ—â—â—es of her beaâ—â—ie and weâ—e â—uteâ—s to her for fauour she like 〈◊〉 held loue in 〈◊〉 and yet waâ— courteous to all 〈◊〉 oâ—her kinde of conference Amongsâ— the rest Venus â—eâ—â—ke willing to bee pleasant had 〈◊〉 one in the laborinth of loue called Mullidor a â—ellowâ—â—hâ—â— was of honest patents but very poore and his personâ—â—â— was as if he had been cast in Esops moulâ— his 〈◊〉 like◠〈…〉 of the largest life in folio able to furnish a Cobleâ—◠〈◊〉 sat downe to his pottage and eate off his 〈◊〉 full the old woman stumbles to the pot againe for a fresh messe Ah mother quoth hee with a great sigh no more brâ—ath â—o nighâ— with that she clapt her hand oâ— her knee and swore her â—oy was not well that hée forsooke his supping yet hée fell to a peece of bacon that stood on the board and a â—ough barley pudding but he rose before the rest and gat him into a corner where folding his armes together he sat thinking on his loue Assoone as the rest of the swaynes were vp from the table and turning Crabbes in the fire she tooke her sonne into the seller and sitting downe in her chaire began thus Sonne Mullidor thy chéekes are leaâ—e and thou lookest like leâ—ton pale wanne I saw by thy stomacke to night thou art not thine owne man thou hadst alate God saue thée a louely fat paire of chéekes and now thou lookest like a shotteâ— herring Tell me Mullidor and feare not to tell me for thou tellest it to thy mother what aylest thou Is it griefe of bodie or of minde that keepes thée on holidaies from frisking it at the footeball Thou art not as thou wert wont therefore say what thou aylst and thou shâ—lâ— see old women haue good counsaile At thâ—se spéeches of his mother Mullidor fetche a great sigh and with that being after supper he brake windeâ— which Callena hearing oh sonne quoth she t is â—he Collicâ— that troubles thée to bed man to bed and wée will haue a warme pâ—tled The Collick mother no t is a disease that all the cunning women in the Countrie cannot cure and strangely it holdes me for sometimes it paynes me in the headâ— somewhiles in mine eyes my heart my heart oh there mother it playes the diuell in a morterâ— somewhile it is like a frost coldâ— sometimes as a fire hot when I should sleepe then it makes mâ— wake when I eate it troubles my stomacke when I am in companie it makes me sigh and when I am alone it makes me crie right out that I â—an wet one of my newe Loâ—kerâ—â—â—apkins wâ—â—h weeping It came to me by a great chauâ—â—eâ— for as I 〈◊〉 on a faire â—lower a thing I knowe not what 〈◊〉 in at 〈◊〉 eyes aâ—d ranne round about all my vayâ—â—s and at last gaâ— intâ— my heart and there euer since hath remained and there mother euer since so wringâ— me that Mullidor must dye and with that he fell on weeping Callâ—na seeing her sonne shed â—â—ares fell to her hempâ—n apron and wipt her bleared eyes and at last demaunded of him if it were not loue At that question he hung downe his head and fighthed Ah my sonne quoth she now I see t is loue for he is such a sneaking fellowe that if he buâ— leâ—â—e in at the eylid aâ—d diue downe into the heart and there rests as colde as a stone yet touch him and he wiâ—â— sâ—â—ike for tâ—ll me Mullidor what is she that thou loâ—est and will not loue thee If she bee a woman as I â—m she cannot â—ut fancie thée for mine eye though it bee now olde and with that vp went her apron and she wipt them cléere hath bâ—en a wanton when it was young and would haue chosen at the first glance the propeâ—est springall in the Parish and trust me Mullidor but bée not proude of it
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
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