recount the â—â—rrowes I haue sustained since I first was inueigled with thy beauty or the seruice I haue vowed vnto thy vertue sâ—nce thou 〈◊〉 count by talke though neuer so true but meere toyes were rather to bréed in thée an admiration then a beléefe But this I added for the tiâ—e which the end shall â—ry for a truth that so faithfull is my affection and so loyall is my loue that if thou take not pitâ—y of my passâ—ons either my life shall be too short or my misery too long Doralicia hearing attâ—ntiâ—ely my talke oâ—t times changed her colour as one in great choller being so inflamed â—ith a melancholike â—inde of hate as shee was not of a long time able to â—â—â—er one word yet at last with a face full of fury shee â—urst forth inâ—â— thâ—se despightfull termes Why Arbasto quoth shee art thou of late become franticke or doeâ—â— thoâ— thinke me in a frenzy â—ast thou beene bitten with the serpent Amphisbena which procureth mâ—enes oâ— doâ—â— thou suppose me fraught with some lunaticke 〈◊〉 for thy speech mâ—keth me thinke eyther thou art â—roubled with the one or that thou counts me combred with the otherâ— if this thy poysoned parle were in â—est it was too â—road weyâ—ng the case if in earnest too bad considering the person for to talke â—f peace amidst the pikes sheweth either a coâ—ard or a counterfait to sue for loue by hate either frenzy or foâ—â—y It is a â—ad Hare Arbasto that will be caught with a Taber â— gréedy fish that commeth to a bare booke a blind Gâ—â—se that runneth to the Fores sermon â—nd she a louing foole that stoopeth to her enemies lure No no thinke mee not so fond or at least hope not to find me so foolish as with Phryne to fancie Cecâ—ops with Harpalice to like Archemerus with Scilla to loue Mynos with carelesse Minionâ— so farre to forget my honor my honesty my parents and my Country as to loue nay not deadly to hate him which is a foe to the leaâ—â— of these for experience tâ—acheth mâ— that the fairer the stone is in the Toades head the more pesâ—ilent is the poyson in her bowels the brigâ—tâ—r the Serpentâ— scales be the more infâ—ctious is her breath and the talke of an enemy the more it is seasoned with delight the more it sauoreâ—h of despight câ—â—se then to séeke for loâ—â— where tâ—ou shalt â—â—nde nothing but hate for assure thy self◠〈◊〉 thou didst fanâ—y as faithfully as thou doest flatter falâ—â—y yet the guerdeon for thy loue should bee onely this that I will pray incessantly to the Gods in thy life to pâ—stâ—r thâ—e with earthly â—orments and after death to plague thee with hellish tortures Although these bitter blastes of Doralicia had béene a sufficient cooâ—ing cardâ— to quench fond affâ—ction yet as the waâ—er causeth the sea-coale to burne more freshly so her despightfull termes farre more inflamed my â—â—â—â—re that I made her this friâ—â—dly reply Alas Madame weigh my case with equitie if you hate me as I am â—oe to Pelorus yet fauour me as I am friend to Doralicia If you loath mee as a conqueror of your countrey yet pittie mee as I am a captiue to your beautie If you vouchsafe not to listen to the lure of your enemy yâ—t heare the passionate complaints of a perplexed louer who leading others in triumph yet himselfe liueth in most haplâ—sse seruitude If I haue done aâ—isse Doralicia I will make amends if I haue committed a fault I will both requite it and recompence it aâ— I haue béene thy fathers â—oeâ— so I will be his faithfull friend as I haue sought his bale I will procure his blisse yea I will goe against the haire in all things so I may please â—hee in any thing But as I was about to make a longer discoursâ— shee cut mo off in this wise In faith 〈◊〉 quoth shee so well doe I like you that you â—annot more displease mee then in sâ—eking to please 〈◊〉 for if I knew no other causâ— to hate thâ—e yet this 〈◊〉 suâ—â—ise that I cannot but dislike thee he therefore my fathers friend or his foe like hâ—â— or haâ—â— him yet this assure thy selfe that I will nâ—â—â—â— loue thee And with that she flung from me in a great chaâ—â— Reply I could not for by thâ—â— wâ—e were come to the gates of the â—iâ—ie where though vnwilling I tooke my leaue of them in this sort I am sorâ—y â—adies that such is my lucke and so vnhâ—â—py is my lot that in offering my selfe a companion I haue greatly offended you wiâ—h my company yet sith I cannot striue against chance I thinke my selfe happy that Fortune hath honoured me with the fruâ—tion of your presence hoping when time shall try my words no tales but truth you will at last make me amends with cryiuâ— peccaui in the meane while I commit you to the tuition of the Gods praying Fortune rather to plaguâ— me with all mishap then to crosse you with any mischance The thankes I had for this my friendly curtesieâ— was a coy disdainfull looke of Doralicia and a câ—urlish vale of the old trot Vecchia but Myrania as one stung with the prickâ— of fancy â—ad me farewell wâ—th a more curious gloze Iâ— sir quoth she the secret intent of your friendship had béene agreeable to the outward manner of your curtesâ—e â—ee had ere this yeelded you great thankes for your company but sith you gréet vs with a Iudasâ—e kisse wee thinke wee haue small cause to gratifie you for your kindnes notwitâ—standing least you should accuse vs wholly of discourtesâ—e we say we thanke you whatsoeuer we thinke and with that she cast on me such a louing looke as she séemed to play â—oth to depart CHAP. 4. Arbasto and Myrania with seuerall coniectures for loue renewed their complaints THey now returning to the Court and I retâ—ring to the Campe fâ—â—ling my selfe déepely perplexed yet as much as I could dissembled my passions willing in loue nâ—t to bee counted a louer ieâ—â—ing therefore with Egerâ—o I thus began to drâ—â— him on How now Egerio hath not the beauty of these â—aires Ladies brought you from yoâ—r fond 〈◊〉 will you not â—ee content for blaspheming Loue in pennance to carry a burning â—â—ggot before Cupid me thought your eyes were gazing wheresoeuer your heart was gadding but tell mee in good trothâ— is not Doralicia worthy to bee loued Yes sir quoth he if she were not Doralicia for as shee is beauâ—â—â—full she is to be liked of all but as she is Pelorus daughter not to desired of Arbasto least in seeking to gaine her loue he get that which he least looked for Why Egerio what ill lucke can ensue of loue when I meane not to venâ—ure but vpon trust nor to trust without tryall Such as happened to Achilles by Polexenâ— and yet he feared Priamus But alas â—ir I sigh to thinke and I sorrow to sâ—e that reason should yeeld to affâ—ction liberty to loâ—e freedome to
infortunate Myrania what strange fits bee these that burne thée with heate and yet thou shakest with colde the body in a shiuering sweat and in a flaming Ice melting as â—axe and yet as hard as the Adamant is it loue then would it were death for likelier it is thou shall lose thy life than winne thy loue Ah haplesse Arbasto would to God thy vertues were lesse than thy beauty or my â—ertues greater then my auctions so should I either quickly free my selfe from fancie or be lesse subieâ—â—ed â—o folly But alas I â—éele in my mind fierce skirmishes beâ—â—â—â—ne reason and appetite loue and wisedome danger and desire the one perswading to hate Arbasto as a foe the other constraining to loue him as a friend If I consent to the first I end my daies with death if to the last I shall lead my life with infamy What shall I then do Ah Myrania either swallow the iuyce of Mandrake which may cast thée into a dead sleepe or chew the hearb Caâ—ysium which may cause thée to hate euâ—ry thing so either shalt thou die in thy slumber or dislike Arbasto by thâ— potion Tush poore wench what folliâ—s be â—hese wilt thou with the Wolâ—e barke at the Moone or with the young Griphons pecke against the starres Doest thou thinke to quench fire with a sword or with affection to mortifâ—e loue No no if thou bee wise suffer not the grasse to bee cut from vnder thy féet strike while the yron is hotte make thy market while the chaffer is to sale Now Arbasto is thine owne now thou maâ—st winne him by loue and weare him by law thou maist frée him from miserie without thy â—athers mishap thou maist saue his life without thy Fathers losse thou maist graâ—t thy good will vnto loue and yet not falsiâ—â—o thy faith vnto nature Caâ— Arbasto which is so courteous become so cruell but he will requite thy loue with loyaltie thy faithfull fancy with vnâ—ained affection Noâ— no he will and must loue thee of force since thou hast granteâ— him his life of free will hee will like theâ— in thy youth and honour thee in thine age he will be the port of prosperitie wherin thou maist rest and the hauen oâ— happinesse wherein thou maist harbour without harme so that thou maist say of him as Andromache said by Hector Tu Dominus tu vir tu mihi frater â—riâ— Yea but Myrania yet looke before â—hou leape aud learne by other mens harmes to beware Ariadne loueâ— Theseus frâ—ed from him the monstrous Mynotauâ—e taught him to passe the Laberinth yea forsooke Parents and Countrey for his cause and yet the guerdon hee gaue her for her good will was to leaue her a dâ—solate wrâ—tch in a desert wildernesse Medea and Iason from the danger of the Dragons and yet shee found him trothlesse Phillis haâ— bored Demophon and Dydo Eâ—â—as yet both repayed theiâ— loue with hate Tush the â—aiâ—e â—ower haâ—â— not â—heâ— best sent the Lapidaries choose not the stone by the outward colour but by the secret veâ—tue Paris was faire yet false Thieâ—tes was beautifull but deceitfull Vulcan was carâ—ed in white Iuory yet a Smith The pâ—ecious stonâ— of Mâ—saulous sepulchâ—r could not make the dead carcaâ—â—e swéâ—t Beautie Myrania is not alwayes accompanied with vertue honestie and constancie but oft times fraught with â—ice and â—â—riâ—ry What then if some were Tâ—aytors shall Arbasâ—o be troâ—hlesse if some weâ—â— faâ—se shall he be â—aiâ—hlesse no his beatle vertue hath woon me and he himselfe shall wearâ— me I will forsake Father â—riends and Country for his cause â—ea I will venture 〈◊〉 and life to frée hâ—â— from danger in despighâ— of froward Fortune and the destinies CHAP. 6. Myrania in loue with Arbastoâ— contriueth his deliuery out of prison by a secret policy MYrania being thus resolute in her opinion began to cast beyond the Moone and to frame a thousand deuises in her hâ—aâ— tâ— bring her purpose to passe fearing euery shadowâ— doubting euery wind stumbling aâ—â—he least straw yet at the last pricked forward by fancy she thought to preuent alâ— cause of feaâ—â—â—n this wise The euening before she meant to atchieuâ— her enterprise she secretly sent for the Iaylor by one of her maids to whom she durst commit â—er secret affaires who being taught by her mistresse to play her part cunningly brought the Iaylor into Myranias chamber by a pâ—â—â—â—rne gate so that they were neither séene nor suspected of any whâ—re hee no sooner came but hee was courteously entertained of thâ— young Ladie who faining that she had to debate wiâ—h â—im of weighâ—ie affaires called him into her closet where treading vpâ—n a falâ—â— boord he fell vp to the shoulders not being able to helpe himselfe but â—hat he there ended his life Myrania hauing desperately atchieâ—ed this deed â—hâ—e strait sought â—ot to rob him of his coyne but to bereaue him of his keyes which after she had gotâ—en aâ—d conueyed his carcasse into a sâ—â—ret placeâ— shée went in her night gowne accompanied onely with her maid to the prison Arbasto and Egerio hearing the doores oâ—â—n at such an vnaccustomed houre began straight to conieâ—ture that Pâ—lorus sought to murther them secretly least his owne people should accuse him oâ— crueltie but as â—hey looked to haue seene the Iaylor they spiâ—d Myrania in her night gowne which sudden and vnlooked for sight so appaled their senses as they were driuen into a maze till Myrania wakened them from thâ—iâ— dumps with this sugred harmony I percâ—iue Aâ—basto that my presence doth make thâ—e to muze and my sudden ariuall hath driuen thée into a maze what strange wâ—nd should laâ—d me in this coast In trâ—th thou maist thinke either my message is great or my modesty little either that I take small care of my selfâ— or repose very great trust in thee who at a time vnfit for my calling haue without any guard come to a stranger a captiue yea and my fathers fatalâ— foe I confesse it is a fault if I were not â—orst but seeing that necessitie hath no law I thinke I haue the lessâ— broken the law But to leaue off these needlesse preambleâ— where dâ—lay breeds no lesse danger then death know this Arbasto that since thy first arriuall at my Fathers Court my eyes haue béen so dazled with the beâ—mes of thy beautie and my minde so snareâ— with view of thy vertues as thoâ— onely art the man whom in heart I loue and like seeing thee therefore drowned héere by aduersâ— Fortune in most haplesse â—istresse willing to manifest the loyaltie of my loue in effect which I haue protested in words I haue rather chosen to hazard both my life and honor than not to offer thee peace if thou wilt agree vnto the conditions As my Father hath wrought thy woe I will worke thy weale as he hath sought thy bale I will procure thy blisse from peâ—urie I will set thee in prosperitie I will frée thâ—â— from prison from danger yea from death
Scyrus to shoot against the stars contend not with Niobe against Latoâ—â— nor striue not with Sapho against Venus for loue being a Lord lookes to câ—mmand by power and to â—e obeyed by force Truth Myrania but what then to loue is easie and perhaps good but to like wâ—ll is hard and a doubtfull chance fancy thy fill fond foole so thou bend not thy affection to thy fathers foe for to louâ— him who séekes his â—â—â—e is to war against nature Fortune Is there â—onâ— worthy to bee thy spheere but Arbasto the cursed enemy of thy country can none win thy good will but the bloudy wretch who séeketh to bréed thy Fathers bane Can the â—agle the bird Osiphage build in one trée wil the Faulken the Done couet to sit on one pearch wil the Ape the Beare be tied in one tedder wil the Fox the lamb lye in one den noâ— they want reason yet nature suffers them not to liue against nature wilt thou then be so wilful or witlesse as hauing reason to guide nature yet to be more vnnaturall then vnreasonable creatures be sure if thou fall in this thou stâ—iuest agaâ—nst the Gods and in strâ—uing wiâ—h them looke for a most sharpe reuenge Tâ—sh I know this but hath not loue set downe his sentence shal I appeale from his censure shal I deny that which the destiniâ—s haue decréed no for though Cydippa rebelled for a time yet she was forst at last to make suit tâ— Venus for a pardon I may séeke to hate Arbasto but neuer find â—â—hers to begin to mislike him And with that such flery paâ—â—ionâ— oâ—â—ressed her as shee was faine to send forth scalding sighs somâ—hat to ease her enflamed fancy which being sorrowfully sobbed forthâ— shee then began afresh to powre forth her pittifull complaints if â—er sister Doralicia being accompanied with other gentlewomen had not driâ—â—â— her â—â—t of these dumps whom shée no sooner spied but leauing her passions â—he wared pleasant couering care with conceits and a mourning hâ—art with a merry countenance least her sorrowfull lookes might giuâ— the company occasion to coniecture somewhat was amisse But I alas which felt the furious flames of fancie to broile incâ—ssantly within my breast could not so cuâ—ningly disâ—â—mble my passions but all my Peers saw I was perplexeâ—â— for whereas before this sudden chaunce Pelorus mis-fortunâ— â—rocured my mirth now the soile which I reaped by affection draue me to a deeper misery In the day I spent the time in solitary dumps in the night affâ—cted thoughts and visions suffered me scarce to slumber for alas there is no greater enemy to the minde than in loue to liue without hope which doubt was the sum of my endlesse sorrow that in seeing my selfe fettered I could sée no hope at all of my fréedome yet to mittigate my misery I thought to walke from the Campe toward the Citie that I might at the least féed my eye with the sâ—ght of the place wherein the Mistresse of my heart was harboured taking with me onely for company a Duke of my Countrey called Egeâ—io vnto whom I durst best commit my secret affaires who noting my vnaccustomed passions coniecturing the cause of my care by the outward effects coueting carefully to apply a salue to my sore and to driue me from such drowsâ—e thoughts wakened me from my dumps with this pleasant deuice Sir quoth hee I haue often maruelled and yet cannot cease to muse at the madnesse of those men whom the common people thinke to honor with the glorious title of louers who when rashly they purchase their owne mishap in placing their affeâ—â—ion where either their disability or the destinies deny successe to their suites do either passe their daies in endlesse dolor or preuent miserie by vntimely death If these passionate patients listned a little to Venus allâ—â—ements as I to Cupids flatteries few men should haue cause to call the Gods vniust or women cruell for I think of loue as Mylciades the Athenian did who was wont to say that of all the plagues wherwith the gods did afâ—â—ict mortal men loue was the greatest in that they sought that as an heauenly blisse which at last they found their fatall bane â—earing Egeâ—io thus cunningly and couâ—â—â—ly to touch mee at the quicke I thought to dally with him in this â—â—se Why Egerio doest thou count it a madnesâ—e to loue or doest thou think him rash which yeeldeth willingâ—â—â—o it knowest thou not that loue iâ— diuine and therefore commâ—â—deth by power and cannot be resisted I am not of that mind with Mylciadâ—s that loue is a plague but rather I thinke he is fauoured of the gods and is a happy louer Truâ—h quoth hee but who is happâ— in loue he that hath the happieâ—â— successe no for I count him most vnhappy which in loue is most hâ—ppy Why then Egerio quoth I thou thinkâ—st him vâ—haâ—pâ— that â—ée loueth Or else may it please your highnesse quoth he I should thinke amisse for shall I count him fortuâ—ate which for one dram of prosperity reapeth a whole pound of misery or shall I â—stéeme that louer happy whose greatest gaine is but golâ—en griefe nay that is neuer to be called pleasure which is sâ—uced with paine nor that good lucke whoâ—â— guerdeon is losse Sith Egerio quoth I thou doest thus brâ—adly blaspheme against Cupid tell me why thou thinkeâ—â— ill of louâ— Because sir quoth hee it is louâ— being such a frenzy which so infecteth the mindes of men as vnder the taste of Nactar they are poysoned with the water of Stix for as hee which was charmed by Lara sought still to heare her inchantment or as the Dâ—ere after once hee brouseth on the â—amariske trée will not be driuen away till hâ—â— dyeth so our amorous louers haue their senselesse senses so besottâ—d with the power of this lasciuâ—ous God that they count not themselues happy but in their supposed vnhappinesse bâ—ing at most ease in disquiâ—t at greatest reâ—â— when they are most troubled seeking contentation in care delight in misery and hunting gréedily after that which alwayâ—s bringeth endlesse harmâ— This is but your sentence Egerio quoth I but what reason haue you to confirme your censurâ— Such quoth he as your highnesse can neither dislike nor infring for the first step to loue is the losse of libertie tying the minde to the will of her who either too curious little respecteth his sute or too coâ— smally regardeth his seruice yet hee is so blinded with a â—oâ—le of fond affection that hee coâ—nteth her sullennesse sobernesse her vaine charineâ— vertuous chastitie if she be wanton hée counteth her witâ—ie if too familiar courtâ—ous so besotted with the drugs of doting loue that euery fault is vertue and though euery string be out of tune yet the musick cannot be found amisse resembling Tamantus the Painterâ— who shadowed the worse pictures with the freshest colours The paines that Louers fâ—â—le for hunting after losse if their mindes wâ—re
I feare not but thou wilt performe it And that thou maâ—st know I exclaime not without cause sée here the Letters which haue passed betwéene this false traytor and Doralicia The sight of these Letters so galled my guilty conscience as I stood as one astonished not knowing what to doe excuse my selfe I could not confirme my loue I durst not yet at last the water standing in mine eyes clasping her hand in minâ— I was ready to craue pardon if she had not preuented me with these iniurious spéeches Cléere thy false trayteâ—â—â— Arbasto thou canst not perswade meâ— thou shalt not forâ—iue thee I will not cease therefore to speake for in none of these thou shalt spéed Egerâ—o I saued thy life then reuengâ— my death and so content I die yet onely discontent in this that I cannot liue to hate Arbasto so long as I loued him And with that turning vpon her left side with a gasping sigh she gaue vp the ghoste which sight draue me into such a desperate mindeâ— that if Egerio and the rest had not holden mee I had sent my soule with heâ—â— to the graue CHAP. 8â— After Myranias death Doralicia relenteth and sendeth to Arbâ—sto who then hated her as much as he loued her before AFter Myranias death being carried by force to my bâ—d I lay for certaine dayes oppressed with such sorrow as if I had béenâ— in a trancâ— cursing and accusing my selfâ— of ingratitude of periurie and of most despightfull disloyalty I lay perplexed with incâ—â—â—ant passions Wâ—ll this heauy and haplesse newes being noysed in France Pelorus taking the death of his daughter to heartâ— in short time died leauing Doralicia the onely inhâ—ritour of his kingdome But yet sée how Fortune framed vp this tragedy who meant tâ— caâ—â— Doralicia from most happy felicitie to most haplesse miseriâ— for shée séeing that no siniâ—â—er chance could change my affection that neyther the length of time nor the distance of place the spight of Fortune the feare of death nor hâ—r most cruell discourtâ—siâ— could diminish my louâ— musing I say on this my inuiolable constancie Cupid meaning to reuâ—ngâ— séeing her now at discouert drew home to thâ— head and strooke her so déepe at the heart as in despight of Vesta shée vailed bonnet and giâ—ing ground sobbed forth secretly to her selfâ— these words Alas I loâ—e Arbasto and none but Arbasto Venus séeing that her boy had so well plaid the man began to triumph ouer Doralicia who now was in her dumps striuing as yet betwéene loue and hate till fancy sâ—t in her foot and then shée yéelded vp the bulwarke in these peaceable termes Why how now Doralicia quoth she doest thou dreame or dote Is it folly or frenzy melancholy or madnesse that driueth thee thus into dumps and so strangely distresseth thee with doleâ— what â—onâ— thoughts what vnacquainted passions what slumbring imaginations are these which perplexeth thee hast thou now â—â—ele fire to spring out of the coâ—d flint heat to â—ry or 〈◊〉 thâ— chilling frost loue to come from hate anâ— dâ—sire from disâ—â—ine Doest thâ—u fare as though thou hadst béene drencâ—ed in the Riuer Iellus in Phrigâ—a which at the first brâ—edeth sorrow through extreame cold but forthwith burneth the sinewes tâ—rough raging heat Hath Vâ—â—us now in despight of Vestâ— made thâ—e vaile â—onnet the more poore wench is thy mishappe and the wâ—rse iâ— thy fortune for loue though neuer so sweete cannot yet hâ— digeâ—ted without a most sharpe sauce faring like the gold that is neuer pâ—â—ect till it hath past through the furnaceâ— Loue Dolaricia but whom doest thou loue Arbasâ—o what the man whom euen now thou diddest sâ— deadly hate hast thou so littlâ— force ouer thy affections as to fancy thy â—oe No no fond foole Arbasto is thy friend and one that honoreth thee as a Saint and would seruâ— thee as his soueraigne that loueth and liketh thee as much as thou canst desire but more than thou doest deserue who being bitterly crossed with discurtesâ—e could neuer be touchâ—d of inconstancy but still remaineth like to Aristoâ—les Quadratus which howsoeuer it is turned alwayes standeth stedfast Thou canst not then of consciencâ— Doralicia but repay his loue with liking and his firme fancy with mutuall affection he is beautifull to please the eye vâ—rtuous to content the mind rich to maintaine thy hâ—nour of birth to counteruaile thy parentage wise courteous and constant and what wouldest thou â—aue more Yea but alas I haue reiected his seruice and now hee will not respect my sute I haue detested him and now he will despise mee I haue requited his good will with crueltie and he will reuenge me witâ— contâ—mpt Better hadst thou then conceale it with griefe than reueâ—le it tâ— thine owne shame for if thou ayme at the white and misse the mark thou shalt bee pointed at of those that hate thee pittied of those that loue thee scorned at by him and talked of by all suffer rather then pooâ—â— Doralicia death by silâ—nce than dirisâ—on by reuealing thy sâ—crets for death cutteâ—h off all care but decision breâ—deth endlesse calamity Tush doest thoâ— thinke Arbasto can so harden his heart as to hate thee so maâ—â—â—r hiâ— aâ—fections as to flee from fancy that he wil become so proud as to râ—fusâ— thy prâ—ffer No if thou sendest him but one line it will morâ— harme him then all Circes inchantments if thou lendest but one friendly looke it will be more estéemed than liâ—e Why but Doraliciaâ— and with that she sate still as one in a â—rance building castlâ—s in the aâ—re haâ—ging beâ—wâ—enâ— feare and hope trust and dispâ—iâ—e doubt 〈…〉 elfe thâ—rforâ— from these â—umps shâ— tooke her Luâ—e whereupon 〈…〉 this dittâ—e IN time we see that siluer drops The cragglâ— stones make softâ— The slowâ—st â—nâ—ile in time we see Dâ—th creeâ—e and climbe aloâ—t With feeble puffes the tallest pine In tract of time doth fallâ— The hardest heart in time doth yeeld To Venus luring call Where chilling frost alate did nip There flasheth now a fire Where deepe disdaine bred noysome hate There kindleth now desire Time causeth hope to haue his hap What câ—re in time not easd In time I loath'd that now I loue In both content and pleasd Doralicia hauing ended her dittie laid downe her Lute and betooke her to her former passions wherein she had not long plodded but she determined to write vnto me with as much speed as might be framing her Letters to this effect Doralicia to Arbasto health VVEighing with my selfe Arbasto that to be vniust is to offer iniury to the Gods and that without cause to be cruell is against all conscience I haue thought good to make amends for that which is amisse of a fained foe to become thy faithfull friend for since the receipt of thy Letters calling to minde the perfection of thy body and perfectnes of thy minde thy beautiâ— and vertuâ— thy curtesâ—e and constancy I haue béene so snared with â—ancy and fettered with affection as