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<DATE>2013-12-19</DATE>
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<NAME>Susie Lorand</NAME>
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<TEXT LANG="eng">
<FRONT>
<DIV1 TYPE="title page">
<PB REF="1">
<PB REF="1">
<P>THE SECOND REPORT of Doctor Iohn Fau&s;tus, contai|ning his appearances, and the deedes of Wagner.</P>
<P>VVritten by an English Gentleman &s;tudent in VVittenberg an Vniuer&s;ity of Ger|many in Saxony.</P>
<P>PVBLISHED FOR THE DELIGHT of all tho&s;e which de&s;ire Nouelties by a frend of the &s;ame Gentleman.</P>
<P>LONDON. Printed by Abell Ieffes, for Cuthbert Burby, and are to be &s;old at the middle Shop at Saint Mildreds Church by the Stockes. 1594.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="preface">
<PB REF="2">
<PB REF="2">
<HEAD>VNTO THEM WHICH WOVLD know the trueth.</HEAD>
<DIV2 N="1" TYPE="part">
<HEAD>I</HEAD>
<P>_IT is plaine that many thinges in the fir&s;t book are meere lies, for proofe marke this: it is &s;aide that it is tran&s;lated, &s;o it is, and where it is word for word: But I haue talked with the man that fir&s;t wrote them, hauing them from <HI>Wagners</HI> very friend, wherein he &s;aith manie thinges are corrupted, &s;ome added <HI>de nouo,</HI> &s;ome canceld and taken awaie, and many were augmented. As for addition to the Coppy is there where <HI>Mepho&s;tophiles</HI> di&s;puteth of the numbers of Hels, and &s;ome other di&s;putations: And let a man marke them duely, they &s;hall finde them I will not &s;aie childi&s;h, but certainly &s;uperficiall, not like the talk of Diuels, where with foldings of words they doe v&s;e to dilate at large, and more &s;ubtell by farre. But as for his Obligation and the mo&s;t part, it is certaine they are mo&s;t credible and out of all que&s;tion.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="2" TYPE="part">
<HEAD>II</HEAD>
<P>For to take away a doubt, whether there were &s;uch a man, which is generally a thing not beleeued, <HI>I</HI> a&s;&s;ure them this, that there was, and it is prooued thus, nor is <HI>Germany</HI> &s;o vn|knowen but that the trueth of the&s;e thinges following may be founde if any &s;u&s;pect.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="3" TYPE="part">
<HEAD>III</HEAD>
<P>Fir&s;t there is yet remaining the ruins of his hou&s;e, not farre from <HI>Melanchtons</HI> hou&s;e as they call at the townes end of <HI>Wit|tenberg,</HI> right oppo&s;ite to the Schooles.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="4" TYPE="part">
<PB REF="3">
<HEAD>IIII</HEAD>
<P>Secondly there is yet to be &s;eene his tree, a great hollowe Truncke, wherein he v&s;ed to reade <HI>Nigromancy</HI> to his &s;chol|lers, not farre from the towne in a very remote place, which I thinke is &s;ufficient te&s;timony to any rea&s;onable eare. And enquire of them which haue beene there, &s;ee if they will not affirme it. Notwith&s;tanding I doe not goe by the&s;e meanes I, to entreate men to beleeue, for <HI>I</HI> care not whether they do or no, but onely to certifie you of the trueth as I my &s;elfe would bee.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="5" TYPE="part">
<HEAD>V</HEAD>
<P>Next, his tombe is at <HI>Mars</HI> Temple, a three miles beyond the Citty, vppon which is written on a Marble &s;tone by his owne hand, this Epitaph, which is &s;omewhat old by rea&s;on of his &s;mall skill in grauing.</P>
<FLOATEXT LANG="lat" TYPE="epitaph">
<P>Hic iaceo Iohannes Fau&s;tus, Doctor diuini iuris in digni&s;simus, qui pro amore magiae Dia|bolicae &s;cientiae vani&s;sim&egrave; cecidi ab amore Dei: O Lector pro me mi&s;errimo damnato homine ne preceris, nam preces non iuuant quem De|us condemnauit: O pie Chri&s;tiane memento mei, &amp; &s;altem vnam pro infiducia mealachry|mulam exprime, &amp; cui non potes mederi, eius mi&s;erere, et ip&s;e caue.</P>
</FLOATEXT>
<P>The Stone was found in his &s;tudy, and his wil was fulfilled, and he lieth betwixt a heap of three and thirty fir trees in the fort of the Hill in a great hole where this is erected.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="6" TYPE="part">
<PB REF="3">
<HEAD>VI</HEAD>
<P>If the&s;e will not &s;erue, then &s;hall you heare the te&s;timonie of a learned man <HI>Iohn Wierus, cap.</HI> 4. <HI>libro</HI> 1. <HI>de magis infamibus.</HI> Which I haue tran&s;lated.</P>
<P><HI>Iohn Fau&s;tus</HI> borne at <HI>Kundling</HI> a little village, learning Ma|gicke at <HI>Graconia,</HI> where he was openly taught, and exerci&s;ed it.</P>
<P>In &s;undry places of <HI>Germany,</HI> with the admiration of many and with manifold lies, fraud, and illu&s;ions, with vaine vaun|ting and promi&s;es but could doe nothing: one example I wil &s;hew to the Reader, vppon this condition, that he will pa&s;&s;e his faith fir&s;t to me that he will not imitate him: Then reher|&s;eth he one of his knaueries, how he tooke vpon him to make no haire grow vppon a mans face, and tooke away with a pow|der which <HI>I</HI> will not name, both the beard that he had and all the &s;kinne, cau&s;ing &s;uch infla~mations in his face that it burned all ouer cruelly. This he committed being taken at <HI>Batoburg</HI> vppon the banke of the riuer <HI>Mo&s;a</HI> hard vppon the boundes of <HI>Gelderland:</HI> Another (&s;aith this learned Phi&s;ition) not vn|knowen to me, hauing a blacke bearde, the re&s;t of his face &s;omewhat darke and &s;warte, witne&s;sing melancholy (for hee was &s;plenaticke) when he came to <HI>Faustus,</HI> who redily &s;aide: Truely I thought you had beene my Familiar, &s;traight waie marking your feete, whether long and crooked nailes &s;took out of them: So likening this man to the Diuell, which hee thought had come vnto him, which Diuell he was wont to cal <HI>Sorarius.</HI></P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="7" TYPE="part">
<HEAD>VI</HEAD>
<P>For his death in the &s;ame place, thus &s;aith he: At length hee was found in a Village of the <HI>Dutchy</HI> of <HI>Wittenberg</HI> by his bed &s;ide &s;tarke dead, and his face turnde backewards, and the midnight before, the hou&s;e was &s;haken as it is reported. Thus farre he, an Authour not to bee doubted of, and approoued through Chri&s;tendome of &s;ingular and exact iudgement, as appeareth by his writings of the like argument confutation.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="8" TYPE="part">
<HEAD>VII</HEAD>
<P>More in the &s;ame place he &s;aith: That a &s;choolemai&s;ter a|mong&s;t
<PB REF="4"> the <HI>Go&s;laryens,</HI> in&s;tructed of <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> the Magitian, or rather <HI>Infau&s;tus</HI> his euill doctrine, learned a way how the Di|uell might be bound by &s;pell on a gla&s;&s;e, who as you may ther reade was &s;o affrighted, that lying one whole yeare &s;peeches, at thend he &s;pake of his feare and diuels appearance, and then hauing receiued his chri&s;tian rites died.</P>
<P>As for the Author this Doctor <HI>Wier,</HI> doubt you not of his credite, for he is alledged of the very &s;ingulare&s;t &s;chollers, as the be&s;t that euer wrote in that argument. We haue a Gen|tleman of our owne countrey, mai&s;ter <HI>Reignold Scot</HI> E&s;quier, that doth vniuer&s;ally quote him as his chiefe and e&s;peciall helpe in his di&s;couery of Witchcraft, yea and hee te&s;tifieth of him not without good de&s;art, &s;aying: I. Bode in his lawyerly Phi&s;icke rea&s;oneth contrarily, as though Melancholye were farthe&s;t of from the&s;e old women whom we call Witches. And the mo&s;t famous and noble Phi&s;ician <HI>Iohn Wier</HI> for his opini|on in that behalfe: Loe where he calleth him the mo&s;t famous Phi&s;itian as he was then certainly, in the di&s;couery of Witch|craft, lib. 3. Cap. 7.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="9" TYPE="part">
<HEAD>IX</HEAD>
<P>Thus farre I haue &s;ette downe that you may knowe and per&s;wade your &s;elues &s;o farre as you &s;ee iu&s;t cau&s;e by the rea|&s;ons.</P>
<CLOSER><SALUTE>Vale.</SALUTE></CLOSER>
</DIV2>
</DIV1>
</FRONT>
<BODY>
<DIV1 TYPE="text">
<PB REF="4">
<HEAD>THE SECOND REPORT OF DO|ctor Iohn Fau&s;tus.</HEAD>
<OPENER>In nomine aeternae &amp; &s;emperuiuae maie&s;tatis, Amen.</OPENER>
<EPIGRAPH>
<Q LANG="lat">Spectatum admi&s;si ri&s;um teneatis amici.</Q>
</EPIGRAPH>
<DIV2 N="1" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. I.</HEAD>
<P>_DOctor <HI>Iohn Fau&s;tus</HI> who&s;e parentage how&s;oeuer hitherto informed, is knowen to be ba&s;e, his father when he was at the be&s;t, but the &s;onne of a poore Farmer, his Mother the daughter of one of y^e &s;ame condition, borne in a &s;mall village called <HI>Kundling</HI> in <HI>Sile&s;ia,</HI> brought vp in literature at <HI>Gracouia,</HI> after at <HI>Witten|berg,</HI> who&s;e life made him famous, and death notorious: being thus tormented and torne in p&eacute;eces, at the time appointed b&eacute;e|twixt the Diuels and him, mooued by this example woefull and lamentable enough, the hearts of the Students and Schollers which where witne&s;&s;es of his di&s;traughture, that with an in|ward terrour of con&s;cience vexed and tormented, they departed and declared the whole volumes of his dete&s;table life, which a|fore his Tragedy was thus acted, were not knowen. <HI>Chri|&s;topher Wagner</HI> his familiar &s;eruaunt vnto whom h&eacute;e hadde committed the &s;ecrets of his bo&s;ome, and had intimated vnto him what euer his foure and twenty years familiarity with the black Art, and more blacke Diuels hadde taught him: H&eacute;e after the death of his thus &s;laine Ma&s;ter mu&s;ing at euery thing thus done, euery thing thus done being wonderfull: (as men doe whome feare makes pa&s;&s;ionate and meditation of former lo&s;&s;e, vrgeth a latter augment of fre&s;h &s;orrowes:) in a di&s;traughtfull furye (the company of Students being departed, which were eie witne&s;&s;es of the Doctors lamentable end) conuayed him&s;elfe vnto his Mai|&s;ters Library, viewing with &s;orrowfull eies the onely Monu|ments of his life, the di&s;putations betwixt him and <HI>Mepho&s;to|philes,</HI> his aun&s;weres and demaunds, and el&s;e what&s;oeuer que|&s;tions mooued or di&s;puted off betwixt the Diuels and him, the me|morials of his Heauens and Hells voyages, his conueaunce with many the like comicall iourneis. The boy of a &s;oddaine fell into a d&eacute;epe con&s;idering of his former meriments, &s;ports and delights,
<PB REF="5"> in &s;o much that in this conceipt he flung out of this &s;tudy, as if h&eacute;e meant to bury the remembraunce of the&s;e matters by contempte and negligence: comming into the &s;ame Hall wherein his Mai|&s;ters late&s;t Tragedy was perfourmed, &s;ighing for his want, h&eacute;e remembred (for as then he lately read it) how that one Article to the which his Mai&s;ter had bound <HI>Mepho&s;tophiles</HI> was, that af|ter his death he &s;hould be a &s;pirite in nature and e&s;&s;ence as others were. The Wag at this began to &s;mile (oh how &s;uch thinges &s;&eacute;eming plea&s;aunt make fooles harts merry) conceiuing with him|&s;elfe how to make his once Mai&s;ter become his man, and to haue the number of his &s;pirituall followers doubled, &s;corning the a lone|ly attendaunce of one &s;eruaunt. To this therefore he determined a time for the rai&s;ing of his Mai&s;ters &s;pirite: and therewith he fel to reade earne&s;tly of other matters, &s;o long that he began to leaue as wearied and wearied began to mu&s;e. Sodainely the aire be|gan to receiue an alteration and chaunge with a thicke foggye mi&s;te, as if it would haue &s;hutte vp the d<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="3 letters">red day from mans view, the windes raged, the thunder lifted <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter">p his voice aboue the common &s;traine, haile and raine immediatly following, and all the&s;e but the ordinary pre&s;ages of an appearing Spirite. At this <HI>Kit</HI> began to tremble, not as afraide of that which came, but &s;tro|ken with inward horrour of con&s;cience, thinking that no other time had b&eacute;ene appointed to be his doomes day. Sodainly (for al|waies &s;uch haps are &s;odain) the dores &s;lew open as if they would haue fled from flying, and in all pompe entred as it were the Pro|logue of a Comedy, a fellow &s;o &s;hort and litle as if h&eacute;e &s;hould be of one year, and yet not &s;o briefe as ill fauored, in his hands a Club, on his head a Crowne of Lawrell, riding vppon a low Mule, his name was <HI>Gomory</HI> a &s;trong and mighty Duke, the ruler of &s;ixe and twenty Legions: next and next in brauery appeared <HI>Volac</HI> a great Gouernour, in the &s;hape of a Boy with winges like an Angell of Hell, &s;&eacute;eming to bee of olde ru&s;ty iron, riding vppon a Dragon with foure heads, in his hands he held a flaming Torch to giue light to the after-commers and beholders: next after him appeared <HI>A&s;moday</HI> a King mightye and pui&s;&s;ant ragged and brizled like a Bore on foote, bearinge a banner or a launce. After him i&s;&s;ued <HI>Lucifer</HI> the King of the <HI>Orient</HI> with the foure Mo|narches of his dominions, betwixt them were two mighty Spa|niels
<PB REF="5"> which drew in a fiery Cart Doctor <HI>Iohn Fau&s;tus,</HI> whome if rea&s;on had not better ruled <HI>Wagner</HI> would haue &s;aluted, for &s;o naturall was his &s;emblaunce, &s;o liuely his countenaunce, as if it had eyther beene a new <HI>Fau&s;tus,</HI> or not the olde murthered <HI>Fau|&s;tus,</HI> but the feare which his mai&s;ters harme put him in, ca&s;t him be&s;ides the renewing of his olde acquaintance, after the&s;e came diuers others with trumpets and excellent melody.</P>
<P>This right maruailous triumph thus pre&s;ented, each one did his humble obey&s;aunce, the be&s;t beginning (though good there were none) and in the end with huge tumult and ecchoing of tru~|pets they crowned him a King, which when they had done, with the like ceremonies they conuayed out againe the Doctor whom his wretchednes made a King, and his new King-&s;hip nothing. <HI>Wagner</HI> &s;tarted as if he had now begunne to maruaile, amazed at this merry Enterlude, hauing recouered his memory againe, he began &s;oftly to &s;peake to him&s;elfe in &s;uch like manner. <Q REND="margDblQuotes">Is this (quoth he) the honour my Mai&s;ter hath in Hell? Is this the re|uerence with which the F&eacute;ends infernall v&s;e to entertaine &s;uche gue&s;tes? O y&eacute;e Spirites of Hell, and y&eacute;e euen now reuiued Em|perours of great <HI>Limbus,</HI> from whence haue you drawne this ex|traordinary humanity, is it to &s;korne poore <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> or to mocke <HI>Wagner</HI> that you &s;hew &s;uch reuerence to a vile abiect, what then woulde they doe to <HI>Wagner</HI> who is worthy to haue a fitter &s;er|uaunt then their King?</Q> At the&s;e words he blu&s;ht exc&eacute;edingly, and began to rage very grieuou&s;ly with his con&s;ciences terrour, and with &s;ome few teares repenting his irreligious conclu&s;ion, ro&s;e vp from the ground, and &s;uppo&s;ing it to be but an illu&s;ion dreame, or a temptation, or el&s;e &s;ome conceite proc&eacute;eding from his moi&s;te and melancholicke fanta&s;ie, ouerpre&s;t with too many vapors, rai|&s;ed vp by continuall thought into his Pores: wherefore hee went forthwith into the &s;tr&eacute;etes, (&s;o much he di&s;tru&s;ted him&s;elfe) and demaunded whether it rainde, hailde, or thundered, and it was aun&s;wered that it neither raind, haild, nor thundered. <HI>Wagner,</HI> albeit he was newly reuiued from a feare, and &s;carcely throughly wakened from this his great terrours, yet with this comicall ie&s;t his decayed &s;pirites began to recouer their olde &s;trength and po|wer, turning the&s;e great braueries of Diuels into a meriment, and his conceiued fear into a m&eacute;ere fan&s;ie. This was the fir&s;t time
<PB REF="6"> that euer <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> appeared vnto his &s;eruaunt <HI>Wagner,</HI> who re|cited this vnto his companions as a matter of great truth and li|tle moment.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="2" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Hovv certaine drunken Dutchmen vvere abu&s;ed by theyr owne conceite and &s;elfe imagination, of &s;eing the grand Doctor, Doctor Fau&s;tus. CHAP. II.</HEAD>
<P>IT &s;hall not be impertinent (my very good friends) to declare as I am bound by a Tran&s;latours duety, to &s;hew what the&s;e my Dutch friends and &s;tudents haue imparted vnto me, not for that I will be a King of your hearts to commaund you to bel&eacute;eue, but that you may with the re&s;t of the Hi&s;tory conceiue the common opinion of him in the vulgars beliefe here in Germany, as con|cerning &s;uch the like illu&s;ions before pretended. About the &s;ame time, the next yeare wherein <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> was thus handled betwixt &s;ixe and &s;eauen a clock in the morning, the fiue and twentith day of Iune, 1539 there chaunced certaine Schollers to the num|ber of nine, and fiue other Marchants (called of them <HI>Cop&s;hmen</HI>) two being Engli&s;h, to walke abroad to a little village within foure Engli&s;h mile (which is about one of theirs) of <HI>Wittenberg</HI> called <HI>Shaftsburg</HI> to the intent to make merry, whither b&eacute;einge come they were exc&eacute;eding plea&s;aunt, as Dutchmen are, e&s;pecial|ly when they be at their good B&eacute;ere, for they are men very impa|tient of thir&s;t, wherewith the Italian mocks them &s;aying:
<Q LANG="lat"><L>Germani multos po&s;&s;unt tolerare labores,</L>
<L>O vtinam po&s;sint tam bene ferre &s;itim.</L></Q></P>
<P>Vnto which they merrely aun&s;were.</P>
<Q LANG="lat"><L>Vt nos dura &s;itis, &s;ic vos Venus improba vexat,</L>
<L>Lex lata e&s;t Veneri Iulia, nulla mero.</L></Q>
<P>So long they druncke, that at la&s;t they came to be within a li|tle of druncke, fetching ouer the <HI>Green nine Mu&s;es</HI> &s;o often at &s;undry drafts, till they began to be exc&eacute;eding merry and plea&s;ant, til it being time to depart, &s;o they &s;et out for <HI>Wittenberg,</HI> and be|ing within a mile or &s;uch a matter of the Cittye, they came to a thicke Groue called of them the <HI>Phogelvvald</HI> which is <HI>Birdes VVood</HI> in Engli&s;h, a place &s;omewhat delight&s;ome aboue anye there abouts, &s;ituated vppon a toppe of a very high Hill, but the
<PB REF="6" MS="y"> armes of it &s;pread them&s;elues &s;omwhat lower into the neighbour vallies and meddowes, full of very fine Chri&s;talline brookes and &s;pringes, which running through the large rancks of tr&eacute;es empty them&s;elues into the <HI>Elue,</HI> a Riuer which k&eacute;epes his current by <HI>Wittenberg,</HI> in this place in a faire Sommer &s;un-&s;hine day, ga|ther together a great number of countrey maides &s;eruants, and o|ther of the female &s;exe, which they call <HI>Phogels</HI> (Birds) vnto the~ there re&s;ort in &s;uch like daies, a great number of &s;chollers to m&eacute;et with the&s;e Birds, which exerci&s;e <HI>Venery</HI> either for plea&s;ure, but ind&eacute;ede &s;eldome but for gaine, with whom when they haue daun|ced a great while (after &s;ome odde tune, as after that which they call <HI>Robin&s;ons delight,</HI> but more truly a <HI>ie&s;t,</HI> though &s;omewhat tolerable) &s;ome 20. or 30. or 40. couple together, then here &s;teps out one couple, and here another, and get them to &s;uch odde cor|ners, as their continuall practi&s;e dooth make knowne: on the &s;ame day wherein this merry company were wandring, who if I &s;hould not much erre, I dur&s;t &s;ay they were mo&s;t d&eacute;eply drunk, being a Sun-&s;hining day and haue no other way to pa&s;&s;e to <HI>Wit|tenberg,</HI> but onely by this <HI>Phogelvvald</HI> where they determined to be lu&s;ty with &s;ome of the <HI>Phogels,</HI> they came at length to the&s;e fore-named places, where as to them it &s;&eacute;emed &s;undry Women dancing, and among&s;t them diuer&s;e Schollers, and verely they d&eacute;emed <HI>Magi&s;ter Doctor Fau&s;tus</HI> likewi&s;e, and &s;&eacute;eing diuer&s;e maids &s;tanding idle &s;o many as would fit there many, they went to take them by the hands, and as their order is &s;aluting them, to hope about or two (for all the high <HI>Dutchmens</HI> dances &s;tands vp|on hopping, turning, winding, and &s;uch odde ge&s;ture) and as they &s;&eacute;emed they danced at great lea&s;ure till this &s;aide <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> came to them, reque&s;ting them not be amazed, for that it was reported he was dead, a&s;&s;uring them in very d&eacute;ede he was not in this world, but had chaunged it for a better, which if it did plea&s;e them hee would &s;hew vnto them, wher betwixt their delights and his were no compari&s;on, at his reque&s;t they were all contented, and he lea|ding the formo&s;t, brought them down into a faire plea&s;ant gr&eacute;en, whereon in &s;tead of certain flowres grew Pots ful of y^e be&s;t b&eacute;ere, which they ta&s;ted on, finding them as good as any that euer they drunk in their whole liues, &amp; farther into a mo&s;t rich &amp; &s;umptuous pallace, wherin as they &s;&eacute;emed they dwelt many daies with great
<PB REF="7"> mirth and plea&s;ure, til at length one more full of curte&s;ie than the re&s;t thanked mai&s;ter <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> for his good entertainement, at which wordes &s;oddainely was heard &s;o great a noi&s;e and howling e&s;pecially of the poore Doctor, who was immediatly reared vp in|to the Aire, accompanied with &s;uch a &s;ort of blacke cloudes and mi&s;tes, as therewith not onely the skie, but al&s;o their eyes were mightely darkened, and they brought into a d&eacute;epe Cauern, wher|in be&s;ides mo&s;t &s;oft beds they had nothing to comfort them&s;elues, in which they wallowed and &s;lept till they &s;norted, &s;ome of the Schollers that were pre&s;ent at their departure being in a &s;oberer conceite than the re&s;t, de&s;irous to &s;&eacute;e whither they would goe, fol|lowed them fa&s;t after, till they e&s;pied them on this durty ea&s;e, for in &s;tead of beds they were all bewrapped, and &s;ome more than halfe &s;unck in d&eacute;epe &amp; y&eacute;elding mire by the riuers bancks. Whom when they &s;aw in this more than mi&s;erable ca&s;e, moued with pit|ty, conuayed them in Waggons home: and being demaunded in the morning (for then they were a litle wi&s;er) the occa&s;ion of their &s;o great and &s;eldome &s;&eacute;ene di&s;order, they declared it from the bee|ginning to the ending, which they were &s;o farre from bel&eacute;euing, that they counted it as canonicall, which when &s;ome Students reported vnto me, I could not ab&s;taine from hearty laughter, not onely to &s;&eacute;e how they had abu&s;ed them&s;elues, but al&s;o others by &s;o fond beliefe. For I &s;aide that in drunkennes, &s;o thicke a va|pour as ri&s;eth from &s;o thicke a matter as their B&eacute;ere, clambering vp and &s;preading it &s;elfe &s;o vniuer&s;ally in the fanta&s;ie, maketh it conceaue no other impre&s;&s;ion, but that which the minde afore it came to be ouerpre&s;&s;ed was conuer&s;ant about, and it was euident that in all the talke they had, there was nothinge mentioned but onely <HI>Fau&s;tus,</HI> and <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> merriments, and where a thing is a|mong&s;t &s;o many &s;o agr&eacute;eingly talked off, it is likely it &s;hould take effect a&s;well in all as in one. Well, I was content to &s;ub&s;cribe to their folly rather to &s;atisfie their &s;elfe-willed conceites, than mine owne thoughte. Many odde prancks <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> is made the father of, which are either &s;o friuolous as no body can credite but like friuolous people, or &s;o m&eacute;erely &s;melling of the Caske, that a man may ea&s;ily know the childe by the Father.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="3" TYPE="chapter">
<PB REF="7" MS="y">
<HEAD>VVagners conference with Doctor Fau&s;tus, and how mi&s;e|rably they broke vp their di&s;putations. CHAP. III.</HEAD>
<P><HI>VVAGNER</HI> one morning aro&s;e betimes and departed to Wittenberg, but a &s;mall mile from the hou&s;e, and ha|uing puruayed him&s;elfe of al nece&s;&s;aries, was admitted for a &s;cho|ler (immediately after his Mai&s;ter was departed out of this World) into the Vniuer&s;ity. Where, for that he was <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> true and familiar &s;eruaunt, he was both well and manifoldly ac|quainted, wherein he remained in all &s;olace amonge&s;t a greate number of his companions, who then rather frequented his company, not onely for that he was <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> his &s;eruaunt, who&s;e memory was very fre&s;hly continued among them, but that they were verely a&s;&s;ured that he had a great part of his Mai&s;ters skill and &s;cience, which they honoured with more then lawfull reue|rence.</P>
<P>Vppon a day <HI>Chri&s;topher Wagner</HI> (as manye times he did) &s;eperated him&s;elfe from his other companions and frends, to ruminate vppon his melancholicke conceites, erring farre in a place full of Tr&eacute;es and the fulne&s;&s;e of Tr&eacute;es gaue it the name of a Groue, &s;odainely like as all &s;uch chaunces happe, <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> or <HI>Fau|&s;tus</HI> Spirite clapt him vppon the &s;houlder, &s;aying: <HI>VVagner,</HI> good morrowe. <HI>VVagner</HI> auayled his Schollers Bonnet, thinking verily that he was &s;ome other Student, but beholdinge his Mai&s;ter <HI>Fau&s;tus,</HI> he was mo&s;t terribly affrighted, and &s;tep|ping a&s;ide he began to mumble to him&s;elf a <HI>Benedicite,</HI> and cro&s;|&s;ing him&s;elfe, rehear&s;ing and &s;aying <HI>CONIVRO TE IN NOMINE PATRIS ET FILII ET SPIRITVS SANCTI, &amp;c.</HI> making a Circle &amp;c. <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> rowling his eyes and for m&eacute;ere fury and anger &s;tamping bound (for &s;o he &s;&eacute;emed) with the vehemency of the Exorci&s;me ranne about mo&s;t terribly the brimmes thereof, that therewith the neighbour ground did &s;&eacute;eme to tremble, ca&s;ting out a blacki&s;h &s;<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter">omy &s;ulphury &s;moake out of his mouth, wherwith the bright ayr was much darkned, at length appea&s;ed, either forced with nece&s;&s;i|ty or knauery, he &s;pake and that very di&s;tinctly. <HI>VVagner</HI> (qd. he)
<PB REF="8"> art thou afeard of me as of a Spirite, or infernall Gho&s;t, am not (I vngratefull ra&s;call) <HI>Fau&s;tus,</HI> am not I thy Mai&s;ter <HI>Fau&s;tus?</HI> quoth <HI>VVagner</HI> very confidently, what thou wert I knowe, what al&s;o thou art who knowes not? though once my Mai&s;ter <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter">ow thou &s;halt be my &s;eruaunt, though once my friend and fami|liar, now I may iu&s;tly tearm th&eacute;e neither, the Lawes of Diuels hath not made me &s;ecure from thy tyranny, and howe may thy friend&s;hip auaile me? For how can that helpe which is not? affe|ctions are not amonge&s;t F&eacute;ends, nor pa&s;&s;ions amonge&s;t Spirits. <Q REND="margDblQuotes">Wherefore <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> if thou wilt that I be thy Mai&s;ter, as whe|ther thou wilt or no, I will <HI>Coniure</HI> th&eacute;e, &amp;c. to aun&s;were directly and truely to all my que&s;tions.</Q> <Q REND="margDblQuotes">Ah <HI>VVagner</HI> (quoth <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI>) is this the duety of a &s;eruaunt? doe&s;t thou mi&s;tru&s;t, that in mee which neither I meane nor thou of hone&s;t thought and duetye oughte&s;t imagine? And as for affections in Spirites certainely there is none, but I am none, f&eacute;ele me my good <HI>VVagner,</HI> behold fle&s;h, bloud, and bones, and Spirites haue neither fle&s;h, bloude, nor bones. Bel&eacute;eue me I &s;hall teach th&eacute;e the nature and e&s;&s;ence of Diuels, I will teach th&eacute;e that which neither thou can&s;t de&s;ire of me or thinke <HI>Extra captum humanum.</HI> Then my good Boy <HI>VVagner</HI> come to me, and v&s;e me not as a Spirite who&s;e bodye is nothing but a Spirit, and as Logicians &s;ay <HI>Sub&s;tantia incor|porea,</HI> and I will open vnto th&eacute;e the &s;ecretes of the World, and Hell, and el&s;e what&s;oeuer in the workes of Nature. Come my <HI>VVagner</HI> my &s;onne, my darling, my &s;w&eacute;ete delight, and reioy|&s;ing, the onely hope of my labours, boldly, louingly, curteou&s;lye aboue all, which am the very &s;ame matter and &s;ub&s;taunce I once was, and if thou doubt&s;t as well thou mai&s;t reach thy hand to me, for I cannot mine to th&eacute;e, and f&eacute;ele whether I am not as I &s;ay I am, fle&s;h, bloud, and bones:</Q> <HI>VVagner</HI> halfe a&s;toni&s;hed at this his feruent &s;p&eacute;ech, yet rather hearing it then bel&eacute;euing it: <Q REND="margDblQuotes">Why <HI>Fau&s;tus,</HI> let me &s;peake to you &s;omewhat more con&s;iderately, thou &s;aie&s;t thou art &s;ub&s;taunce, and all &s;ub&s;taunce is heauy, and no heauy thing can a&s;cend vpwardes, and as thy conference with <HI>Mepho&s;tophiles</HI> doth plainely declare the place of Spirites is in the Aire, in which nothing that is heauy can remaine, and there|fore thou art not &s;ub&s;taunce or not <HI>Fau&s;tus.</HI></Q> <Q REND="margDblQuotes">Quoth <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> that no heauy thinges is in the Aire is plainely fals, for thou &s;&eacute;e&s;t that
<PB REF="8"> materiall bodies are in the Aire, as haile, &s;nowe and other me|teors:</Q> <Q REND="margDblQuotes">Whereto <HI>VVagner</HI> aun&s;wered: <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> they truly are in the Aire not of the Aire, and you know the cau&s;es of them are terre&s;trial vapors drawn from the earth by the attracttiue vertue of the Sunne, and therefore they fall downe becau&s;e they are hea|uy, for were they of the Aire as are Spirites, then &s;houlde they &s;till remaine in it, but briefly no violent motion may bee called naturall, as that heauy materiall Dew is carried from the earth by a violent and contrary motion: the Sunne therefore leauing the <HI>Zenyth</HI> of any <HI>Hori&s;on,</HI> and comming to the <HI>Nadir</HI> oppo|&s;itely the materiall bodies of Dew, (as the cau&s;es alwaies faile with the effectes) and nextly the concretion of Snow and Haile, becau&s;e they are &s;ub&s;taunce, cannot remaine in the light and vn|heauy Aire: Wherefore I haue aun&s;wered th&eacute;e that thou art ei|ther a Spirite or not &s;ub&s;taunce.</Q> I wondred when I read this di&s;cour&s;e, with what patience the Doctor could endure &s;o long an argument, but it prooued otherwi&s;e, for the Doctor brake foorth into the&s;e &s;peaches vnable to containe him&s;elfe any longer.</P>
<P><Q REND="margDblQuotes"><HI>Wagner</HI> thou &s;&eacute;eme&s;t to gather naturall arguments of <HI>Meta|phy&s;icall</HI> effectes, I &s;ay vnto th&eacute;e <HI>Wagner</HI> &s;ith thou art thus far entred into a Philo&s;ophicall di&s;cour&s;e, that I being as I am <HI>Fau|&s;tus,</HI> may be, for &s;o I am, a dweller in the profound <HI>Aby&s;&s;e</HI> of the Aire, who&s;e compa&s;&s;e is mea&s;urable in this, that it is not me|&s;urable: For let vs &s;peake according to men naturally the ra|ther to fitte thy capacity, we &s;&eacute;e that in the regiment of mans bo|dy, the man is of quality like to the predominant complexion and Element, as if Chollar abound, the man is light, nimble, and for a while furious, &s;eldome &s;trong, ready to meddle, and carried a|way with phanaticke illu&s;ions: If Bloud abound hee is ruddy, faire, gentle, &amp;c. <HI>Et &s;ic de reliquis.</HI> If therefore the predomi|nant Element is able &s;o much to change the nature of man, as to make it aboue the re&s;t capable or incapable, the &s;ame rea&s;on ma|keth that this body of mine which thou &s;&eacute;e&s;t, being gouerned and predomineirde by that quicke and ready &s;pirite and &s;oule which makes a man immortall is no hinderaunce why this corporal re|alty of me &s;hould accompany my &s;pirite, not as a body, but as a parte of the &s;ame Spirite: and otherwi&s;e <HI>VVAGNER</HI> the whole world is in the Aire, and as it were the centre of the
<PB REF="9"> Heauens, and what &s;ub&s;taunces &s;oeuer is made, Fi&s;hes which dwell in the d&eacute;epe Seas except (and yet not alwaies) are moo|ued in the Air, <HI>Kit</HI> bel&eacute;eue me I am as thou &s;&eacute;e&s;t <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> and the &s;ame very &s;ame.</Q></P>
<P><HI>VVagner</HI> almo&s;t at the la&s;t ca&s;t, &s;ayd, <Q REND="margDblQuotes">we di&s;pute not what you are <HI>Fau&s;tus,</HI> but what by rea&s;on you may be.</Q> <Q REND="margDblQuotes">Well, an&s;we|red <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> &s;&eacute;eing thou wilt not bel&eacute;eue, nor giue any credite to my &s;ayings, and which I prooue by argumentes, I hope thou wilt bel&eacute;eue thine owne eyes, and if thou &s;&eacute;e&s;t what I &s;aye vnto th&eacute;e, thou wilt neither be ob&s;tinate nor incredulous, and rather then <HI>VVagner</HI> (whome I doe loue as my &s;elfe) &s;hould be car|ried away with &s;o palpable an Here&s;ie, beholde <HI>Wagner</HI> and be|l&eacute;eue,</Q> and &s;treight waies he drewe his knife, the Prologue of his knauery, and looking fir&s;t vppon <HI>Wagner,</HI> and next on the wea|pon which he had in his hand, as if with his eies he woulde haue mooued him to &s;ome pitty, and mooued them to be witne&s;&s;es of the trueth, he &s;trake him&s;elfe into his thigh twi&s;e or thri&s;e, and after his &s;troakes followed bloud &s;o ha&s;tely, as if it woulde haue ouertaken the iniurious worker of his effu&s;ion: which bloude <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> receiued in a &s;iluer Bowle, and &s;taunching his wound, but not vntill the bloud might be &s;&eacute;ene ouer the Cup brimmes, then <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> lifted the bloude on high &s;aying: <Q REND="margDblQuotes">S&eacute;e here the wit|ne&s;&s;e of the trueth, <HI>Wagner</HI> take it, looke how fre&s;he it is, it is not that which comes from a Spirite, it is bloud both in nature and colour, and if this be not inough to make th&eacute;e bel&eacute;eue that which I doe tell th&eacute;e, it bootes not, there is not any trueth at all.</Q></P>
<P>I thought it enough for an extemporall <HI>Dis</HI> and controuer|&s;ie, I thought the &s;choller had heard as well and as long as the Doctor had taught, but yet he had not ended. <HI>Wagner</HI> receyuing the Cuppe and looking on the bloud, beheld him without &s;aying any thing, &s;hewing by his &s;ilence his meaning. <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> mind|ing to reuenge and recompence <HI>VVagner</HI> his vnbeliefe, <Q REND="margDblQuotes">naye further (quoth he) f&eacute;ele my hand, tell me whether it hath not the naturall heate and e&s;&s;entiall &s;olidity:</Q> then immediatly he &s;tret|ched foorth his arme. <HI>Wagner</HI> with &s;odaine exta&s;ie of ioy car|ried away, ran to embrace his old Mai&s;ter, as his newe friend, whome when <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> had excircled he fell to beating the poore
<PB REF="9"> Scholler mo&s;t mi&s;erably, that <HI>Wagners</HI> pittifull roaring, &s;&eacute;emed to be an Eccho to the Doctors blowes, <Q REND="margDblQuotes">now (quoth <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI>) hereafter be learned either to be more wary or le&s;&s;e mi&s;tru&s;tfull,</Q> and therewith laughing effu&s;edly vani&s;hed away, leauing <HI>Wag|ner</HI> to be a witne&s;&s;e (yet almo&s;t halfe dead with his buffeting) of their conference, and that he was a good &s;ub&s;tantiall Burge&s;&s;e of Hell: <HI>Wagner</HI> poore Boy for the &s;pace of &s;eauen houres not able &s;carce of him&s;elfe to &s;turre or to take breath, and without much &s;turring either of hand or foote, wherby any able life might be coniectured: At length lifting vppe his head and &s;ighing a li|tle, (for a little was as much as he could doe at that time) he rea|red him&s;elfe vp and laying his head vppon his hand and his hande vppon the ground, he after &s;ighs &s;ent out mo&s;t &s;orrowful grones, and after groanes &s;ome f&eacute;eble wordes, as he after reported it to his companions and familiar acquaintaunce: to accu&s;e either his Mai&s;ters rigour or his owne folly, he thought as m&eacute;erely vain as little preuailing: Wherefore comforting him&s;elfe with his mi|&s;ery, becau&s;e he was comfortle&s;&s;e, ro&s;e vp, and looking for the cup of bloud (for the gaine of the &s;iluer mooued him: In place where|of he found his Cap full of pi&s;&s;e, and all beraied, &s;ore a&s;hamed and &s;oare withall, &s;o well as he might, which was &s;orely inough, h&eacute;e ro&s;e vppe, and what by cr&eacute;eping and going he gotte whome to his Chamber, where hee abode till he had recouered his health again.</P>
<P>Thus was his Philo&s;ophicall incredulity recompen&s;ed with ru&s;ticall cruelty, &s;uch was the good loue of the Spirite, that for a long &s;pace after he was not able to walke out of his Chamber. This did he affirme for mo&s;t certaine truth, and to his &s;aying ad|ded his beaten skin, a te&s;timoniall and witne&s;&s;e to his familiarly beloued acquaintaunce, one of the which recounted it all &s;umma|rily in a Letter from Wittenberg to me, where I was at Lypt|zip, knowing that I intended to certifie my friendes in Eng|land of a matter &s;o notable and &s;traunge, and worthy of memory, and augmented by Fame more then of very d&eacute;ed, for the idle hea|ded fellowes hauing gotten &s;uch a notable fellow as <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> to Father their lies vppon, cea&s;ed not daily and hourely to begette new children, but they co&s;t very litle nur&s;ing and bringing vppe, they had the wide Worlde, a very good Grandam where they
<PB REF="10"> might f&eacute;ede their fill: As for the di&s;putations betwixt tho&s;e two in this place, and tho&s;e which you &s;hall finde in other places like|wi&s;e aboundantly, con&s;ider from who&s;e braines they proc&eacute;ede, for you mu&s;t giue the Germane leaue to &s;hew his Art, for witte for the mo&s;t part they haue very little, but that which they toile for like Cart Hor&s;es. But in all their doings you &s;hall ea&s;elye per|ceaue if any thing be in them excellent, either with how much li|king and vrging they bring it foorth, or howe it is wetted ouer with dropping of the Tappe exc&eacute;edingly.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="4" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Wagners coo&s;enage committed vppon the &s;ellers of his Ma|&s;ters goodes. CHAP. IIII.</HEAD>
<P>ACcording to the Lawe of the countrey the goods of <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> were to bee confi&s;cate and applied to the Trea&s;ury, by an Edict publi&s;hed again&s;t Coniurers by <HI>Sigi&s;munde</HI> Duke of Saxony. According ta the tenour thereof <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> goods were to be alienated, but <HI>Wagner</HI> &s;o handled the matter that the &s;peare being &s;tucke vp, and his goods &s;et to be &s;old, <HI>Wagner</HI> had prouided bidders and money of his owne, the one were &s;uch as neuer were &s;&eacute;ene more, and the other but round counters.</P>
<P>The Me&s;&s;engers being thus coo&s;ened by <HI>Wagner,</HI> dur&s;t not for &s;hame report it, nor he for feare of further puni&s;hment vaunt of it: the one contented to put vp the lo&s;&s;e quietly, and the other to enioy them without further contradiction.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="5" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>The de&s;cription of Vienna. CHAP. V.</HEAD>
<P>FAme had &s;o farre carried the report of <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> death, as it had the memory of his life, and for by continuall motion rumours encrea&s;e, as &s;aieth the Heroicall fountaine of Latine ver&s;e <HI>Vir|gil.</HI></P>
<Q LANG="lat">Nobilitate viget vire&s;que acquirit eundo.</Q>
<P>In Au&s;trich the&s;e newes were very frequent, beeing a Pro|uince
<PB REF="10"> mightely repleni&s;hed with people, and marching vpon the hems of the Hungarian, is a neare neighbour to the mo&s;t cruell Dog and tyraunt the Turke. In Vienna, a Citty of the &s;ame by which as the Thames by London the great, and often but neuer inough pray&s;ed Riuer of great Danuby k&eacute;epes his current the Citty it &s;elfe (beeing euery way bigger then the faire Cittye of London) within the Walles, the head of the Citty re&s;teth vppon the mountain of Or&s;tkirken, the front di&s;playeth the wide plains vppon the di&s;cendent of the &s;ame Hill, but &s;h&eacute;e wa&s;hes her f&eacute;et in the Riuer: her body and her bre&s;t couering the large valley ly|ing betwixt Hill and Hil, not farre into the Citty the Danuby is deriued into two armes, which by running about a certaine Hil, of &s;ome halfe mile and more, m&eacute;ete at length againe in the &s;ame Channell: In this Iland is the Dukes Court, out of which are two and thirty maruailous goodly &s;tone Bridges, intending to either &s;ide of the Citty: at the very promontories ends, &s;tandes two no le&s;&s;e faire, then high and &s;trong Ca&s;tles, in this place did the Duke k&eacute;epe his Court, with very great royalty, vnto whom when this was reported, hearing of a certaine that <HI>Wagner</HI> had great &s;tore of his mai&s;ters skill and what&s;oeuer, hee cau&s;ed one that in &s;uch matters is commonly commaunded, to ride to <HI>Wit|tenberg,</HI> to the intent to heare the trueth, for many things more then the trueth were certified vnto him: the me&s;&s;enger without delay (becau&s;e the iourney was long) departed and left the Court, and we him a while.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="6" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>A long di&s;cour&s;e betwixt the Diuell and VVagner, and en|ded with a good Philo&s;ophicall repa&s;t. CHAP. VI.</HEAD>
<P><HI>VVAgner</HI> &s;olitary mu&s;ing in his Chamber and conuer&s;ing with many multitudes of thoughtes, &s;odainely appeared <HI>Mepho&s;tophiles</HI> his ma&s;ters Familiar, after him <HI>Akercocke,</HI> which was <HI>VVagners,</HI> and after all <HI>Fau&s;tus:</HI> Quoth <HI>Mepho|&s;tophiles</HI> what cheare? Sirrha &s;uch as you &s;&eacute;e, we are as wee were and neuer the better: and welcome <HI>Akercocke,</HI> but my ve|ry good <HI>Fau&s;tus,</HI> that you come at this time I reioyce. So then
<PB REF="11"> they all &s;ate downe, and &s;ate right again&s;t him. Then entred in diuer&s;e delicate viands, and there not then to be ended with vn&s;&eacute;en <HI>Symphonies</HI> of Mu&s;iike. Then &s;pake <HI>Wagner</HI> and &s;ayd <HI>Clau|diteiam riuos,</HI> now we haue &s;atisfied our appetite with meate, I pray you heare me with patience, for I haue a thing in my minde of which I would faine be re&s;olued, but becau&s;e you &s;o fowly, and &s;o often fowly entreated my Mai&s;ter, for demaunding &s;ome que|&s;tions, you &s;hall ratifie this Article with me againe. <HI>1. That in my demaunds you &s;hall aun&s;wer truly and patientiy,</HI> for what hurt can redound to you by aun&s;wering of a que&s;tion, &s;&eacute;eing if you are &s;ure of any thing you may hold fa&s;t, a que&s;tion cannot take it away: Without delaye the&s;e good fellowes confirmed the Ar|ticle with a great oath: but he would take their &s;imple word with|out &s;urety he knew their hone&s;ty &s;o well. Then <HI>VVagner</HI> pul|ling downe his Cap into his eies, and leaning vppon his elbow a while, and throwing vp his eies to Heauen, and then &s;ighing, at length folding his armes within them&s;elues, &s;ate &s;till a litle time, then &s;pitting a little and fetching a hearty hem with a good cou|rage &s;pake vnto them thus.</P>
<P><Q REND="margDblQuotes">Sirs, it is not vnknown vnto you how deare I haue alwayes accounted of my Mai&s;ter, who&s;e condition is as farre from that it was as mine from yours, for which I haue more often lamented his departure then mine owne mi&s;ery, beeing once euery waye a man, &s;o throughly in&s;tructed with the weapons of all Sciences, that in all the world hardly his p&eacute;ere could be found, &s;o that your victory ouer &s;uch a man is more to be wailed then euer manye a thou&s;and &s;uch as I am. To be &s;hort that you may vnder&s;tand whither I will goe without further Oration. Wherefore I de|&s;ire you, I pray you, nay I by your Article commaund you, that you declare vnto me truely without collu&s;ion, whither that <HI>Fau|&s;tus</HI> here pre&s;ent in that &s;tate wherein he now is, may come again to be a liuing man amonge&s;t vs, either his olde &s;hape renewed, or he in a new: For &s;ome Philo&s;ophers &s;ay, and &s;ome Diuines, as <HI>Origines</HI> and <HI>Tertullian,</HI> and whither they &s;ay truely or no I know not, that no &s;ooner the &s;oule of man departeth from one but that it doth enter into another. Wherefore I con&s;idering with my &s;elfe thus much, and often for his cau&s;e that he may not onely be <HI>Fau&s;tus,</HI> but al&s;o a liuing man and dweller vppon the earth,
<PB REF="11"> to enioy not onely tho&s;e graces which through his great de&s;arts he had lo&s;t, but al&s;o according to his infinit knowledge, multiply them through Gods fauors againe and again aboundantly. And though you &s;hall perhaps deny that the &s;ame Indiuiduall cannot be againe &s;o re&s;u&s;citated, yet that <HI>Numero</HI> it may in &s;pite of you al, I kno<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter"> <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="2 letters"> may: for we do not doubt that the &s;ame Indiuidual may <HI>Nu<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="3 letters">ro</HI> be againe regotten, becau&s;e that after &s;eauen and thirty thou&s;and yeares, the heauenly con&s;tellation &s;hall be in eue|ry point <HI>per totu~,</HI> the &s;ame then that now it is, according to <HI>Pla|to</HI> and the A&s;tronomers. And therfore we &s;hal be y^e &s;ame in <HI>Nu|mero,</HI> and &s;hall &s;it in this or that &s;choole or place as now we doe, that is in that <HI>Magno anno,</HI> in that great yeare: Whereuppon <HI>Plato</HI> &s;aid, that after the great yeare he &s;hould return to <HI>Athens,</HI> and &s;hould there read: Becau&s;e the con&s;tellation &s;hall happen &s;o, therefore that returning, the &s;ame effects &s;hal with them likewi&s;e return. Now hauing heard my re&s;olution, an&s;wer me to my fir&s;t propo&s;ition in ful &amp; amply, as that I may be &s;atisfied.</Q> At the con|clu&s;ion of this &s;p&eacute;ech <HI>Fa.</HI> turnd his head a&s;ide laying it betwixt his hands hiding it, &s;o &s;at a great while. <HI>Ake.</HI> he friskt vp &amp; down for he had neither clog nor chain, becau&s;e he was in the nu~ber of the wild ones, and ouer the table and backe again. <HI>Ak.</HI> was the fami|liar which <HI>F.</HI> gaue to <HI>W.</HI> who asked him in the fa&s;hion of an Ape. Such cranks, &s;uch lifts, car&eacute;ers and gambalds, as he plaid there, would haue made a hor&s;e laugh. <HI>Meph.</HI> who as it &s;emed was the &s;peaker of y^e Parliament in hel, ro&s;e &amp; walked about very ha&s;tely, at length he came to the table and &s;triking his fi&s;t on it (the print was &s;&eacute;ene <HI>2.</HI> yeare after, and was carried to <HI>S. Margets</HI> church for a relique, to &s;hew what a hot fellow the diuell is in his anger) and again beating &s;aid, thou, and then left, and came and went, &amp; came and went again, here he takes me one booke and hurls it a|gain&s;t a Cupboorde, and then he takes the Cupboord and hurls it again&s;t the wall, and then he takes the wall and throwes it a|gain&s;t the hou&s;e, and the hou&s;e out at the Window. Pacifying his rage at the length, rowling his eyes, and &s;&eacute;eming beate his t&eacute;eth together, &s;ate down further off, and thus quietly &s;pake with a lowde voice. <Q REND="margDblQuotes">Were it not <HI>VVagner</HI> that our &s;olemne vow, forbiddeth to di&s;turbe or torment th&eacute;e for any demandes, this thy fond pride &s;huld be rewarded with mo&s;t intollerable puni&s;hme~ts:
<PB REF="12"> As for the que&s;tion I wil an&s;wer th&eacute;e more &s;ub&s;ta~tially then &s;uch a fooli&s;h dolti&s;h one doth require. And for that we haue day inough before vs I wil trauail further in it then y^e grauity of the argume~t can require, if it be but that thou maie&s;t &s;&eacute;e how great an A&s;&s;e thou art, which can&s;t imagine &s;o gro&s;&s;e a matter in thy more gro&s;&s;e head: As for thy great P&eacute;ere be it as you <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 word"> to expect it you, in the meane we will enioy him and th&eacute;e at our plea&s;ure in de&s;pite of God and Heauen and all his imperiall armies of &s;aints. Thy que&s;tion is this: <HI>Whither the Spirite of a damned man can returne into the body of another man.</HI> To which I an|&s;wer Negatiuely, it cannot.</Q></P>
<P N="1"><Q REND="margDblQuotes"><HI>1</HI> If this were to them graunted, then they &s;hould ob&s;erue and k&eacute;epe the <HI>Embrious</HI> in the Wombe of the mother, that they might con&s;titutiuely vnite them&s;elues to it, to haue at the lea&s;te|wi&s;e, &s;en&s;uall con&s;olation, and delectation.</Q></P>
<P N="2"><Q REND="margDblQuotes"><HI>2.</HI> Then &s;econdly becau&s;e it is common to rea&s;onable crea|tures to fa&s;hion and informate the body, and to perfect it with &s;ome natural delightment, not to vexe it.</Q></P>
<P N="3"><Q REND="margDblQuotes"><HI>3.</HI> Then thirdly becau&s;e of the law and order of Nature, the &s;oules from the places in their departure to them allotted, a&s;&s;ig|ned and deputed of God, neither doe nor can depart at any time: for it is written: For the &s;oule is a Spirite going and returning. And they which doe otherwi&s;e hold opinion are to be accu&s;ed, nay condemned in this with <HI>Pythagoras,</HI> who did ab&s;taine from all liuing <HI>Animals</HI> and creatures, bel&eacute;euing that in &s;ome the &s;oules of &s;ome men did dwell and abide. Thus farre the <HI>Arrogonian</HI> named <HI>Bartholomew Sybilla</HI> a <HI>Monopolitane,</HI> who writ vp|on this que&s;tion being at Wittenberg, at the reque&s;t of him that did &s;et forth the Dutch Coppy &s;hew him&s;elfe, to be a good Philo|&s;opher and no wor&s;e Diuine. But marke what followes, this is written according to men in faith: the Diuell was out of the fir&s;t &s;tr&eacute;ete of Coany when he was pa&s;t this la&s;t period. For that <HI>Pythagorical</HI> opinion, if that were: this ab&s;urdity would follow: (I will &s;peake plainely the rather to fitte thy capacity) and if the &s;oule &s;hould pa&s;&s;e out of the dead into the liuing, then &s;hould mor|tality be the cau&s;e of the &s;oules immortality (this is pretily &s;poke~) and by that meanes make it corruptible, which cannot be. And &s;&eacute;e&s;t thou <HI>Wagner?</HI> for I will teach th&eacute;e by demon&s;trations,</Q> and
<PB REF="12"> therwith he tooke a coal of fire, &amp; held it to him &s;o long that it came to be but a coale, <Q REND="margDblQuotes">now thou &s;&eacute;e&s;t <HI>Wagner,</HI> that &s;o long as fire was in this &s;ubiect it had life, but the quality being remoued from the quantity, neither is the quality found or &s;&eacute;ene or known whither it vani&s;heth, nor can the &s;ame fire though fire may return into a|nother body or &s;ubiect albeit the quantity remaineth. Thus may the &s;oule of man be compared to the fire in the coal, as concerning his entraunce and departure, but not r&eacute;entrance, for that coale may take life againe, that is fire, but &s;o cannot humane body be|cau&s;e one &s;pirit can be vnited but to one body, and not two to one, nor one &s;pirite to two bodies: Wherefore that &s;pirite being depar|ted it is irreuocable becau&s;e of the vnity, and the impo&s;&s;ibility of returning in the one, in the other of receiuing any other. As for other rea&s;ons directly by circum&s;taunce, if the Soule goeth either to ioy or paine immediatly, then I am certaine that that hope which thou ha&s;t is &s;o m&eacute;erly vaine, as any thing which may hap vnder that title: For proofe behold,</Q> and then through the Wan|&s;cot doore of <HI>VVagners</HI> &s;tudy entred in two Kings, which draw|ing their &s;words did there in pre&s;ence combate together fiercely &amp; couragio&s;ly, one of them &s;hortly after fainting vnder the aduer|&s;aries &s;troakes fell downe, the other victorious, yet wounded, ve|ry canonically as a man may &s;ay, &s;taggerd immediatly, as if h&eacute;e would faine haue not fallen, yet for all that he fell: then entred two men carrying Torches with the &s;nuffes downwards, with great &s;olemnity (more then is here n&eacute;edfull to bee recapitulated, for I &s;&eacute;e nothing but that this might haue b&eacute;ene very well left out for any thing worthy the grauity of the matter) which when they had carried out the fir&s;t &s;laine combattant, with armed men, and a dying &s;troake of the Drum, clothed all in the colour which be&s;t notes by his external hew, the internall &s;orrow: Then next there entred two Pages all in &s;iluer white crownd with Baies, carry|ing their Torches aloft declaring the height of their glory by the height of their flames: next to them diuer&s;e Trumpetters and all in white, vrging forth into the wa&s;t aire their victorious flori&s;h|es, next a great &s;tandard bearer, and I cannot tell what, but the conclu&s;ion was, that the triumph was exc&eacute;eding great and pom|pous, adorned with as many ceremonies as &s;uch a victory might or could be, the Spirite when they were all gone began to &s;peake
<PB REF="13"> and &s;ayd, this was the battaile which was fought for the greate Realme of A&s;ia, by <HI>Hercules</HI> and <HI>Orontides,</HI> where <HI>Orontides</HI> was &s;laine, and <HI>Hercules</HI> &s;ore wounded, but yet recouered after which he atchieued his <HI>12</HI> labors, &amp; the <HI>13</HI> of which the Poet &s;pea|keth the harde&s;t of al.
<Q LANG="lat"><L>Tertius hinc decimus labor e&s;t duri&s;simns, vna</L>
<L>Quinquaginta &s;imul &s;tuprauit nocte puellas.</L></Q></P>
<P>This Hi&s;tory is as I doe thinke in the Chronicle of Hel, for I did neuer heare of it before, nor any body el&s;e, I appeale to all the Hi&s;tories. Marry it may be this was when <HI>Hercules</HI> was a little Boy, and then peraduenture in d&eacute;ede the recordes make no mention of it, but yet we haue that recorded which he did whe~ he was le&s;&s;e then a little Boy, as his killing of a Serpent in his Craddle, and &s;uch a Hi&s;tory as I do remember is enrould in the golden Booke of the &s;eauen wi&s;e Mai&s;ters of Roome, an autenti|call author. But let that pa&s;&s;e and let vs draw more neare vnto the cau&s;e: For as the diuell was afore our daies, &s;o by authority he may alledge experience, and we mu&s;t of nece&s;&s;ity bel&eacute;eue that it is either true or a lie. <HI>Mepho&s;tophiles</HI> continued his &s;p&eacute;ech for all this Aparenthe&s;is, declaring <HI>VVagner</HI> his meaning in this point, for (quoth he) <Q REND="margDblQuotes">as you &s;e the&s;e two champions contending for the title of victory, one of the~ mu&s;t n&eacute;eds if they try the extreame&s;t as they did receiue the di&s;honor, the other the glory, &s;o in the com|bat wherein the dying body battaileth with the liuely &s;oule, the &s;oule if grace hath made acceptable &s;hall enioy tho&s;e euerla&s;tinge plea&s;ures of Paradi&s;e, and dwell in heauen ble&s;&s;ed and glorious a|mong&s;t the beautifull Angels, but if it be counted as reprobate &amp; outca&s;t of God, then according to that puni&s;hme~t which his great &s;ins did de&s;erue, he can haue no other place but the continuall hor|ror of hell, wherein we mi&s;erable dwell, and the vgly company of black diuels and his frightfull Angels. There is no other meane but honor or di&s;honor in this ca&s;e, no other meane but ioy or pain, no other meane but heauen or hell perpetually: there is no place left for a third. I could more copiou&s;ly di&s;pute of this matter, but that I wil not be too tedious in &s;o exile a que&s;tion. For where it is &s;aid in an author to which I am witnes, for I &s;toode by his elbow when he writ the lines. <HI>Animae &s;unt in loco certo &amp; expectant iudiciu~, ne&abque; &s;e inde po&s;&s;unt co~mouere.</HI> Which place as appea|reth in the precedent chapter is heauen or hell: again it is &s;ayd <HI>A|nima
<PB REF="13"> quae pecauerit ip&s;a morietur.</HI> Of nece&s;&s;ity then the &s;oule to whom the Lord imputeth not his &s;in &s;hall liue, for they are im|mediat oppo&s;itio~s, for the &s;oule that is in ioy wil not come to the&s;e troubles, nor that which is in torment cannot: therefore it is &s;aid: <HI>Et reuertatur puluis in terra~ quemadmodum erat, &amp; &s;piritus reuertatur ad Dominum qui dedit illum,</HI> &s;o there is no mention in any &s;cripture of the &s;oules returning, but to a certain place de|puted of God to him.</Q> But before I goe any further in y^e declaring of that which is here to be &s;et down, I know they that haue their con&s;ciences more of the preci&s;e cut, will &s;ay, that there was a lear|ned diuell, true it is he is learned, &s;trong, and aboue all humaine conceit, &s;ubtill and crafty: and if they &s;ay it is bla&s;phemou&s;ly done to haue the word &s;poken to the world by &s;o vile a mouth, fir&s;t they know how mightely the diuell is conuer&s;ant in holy writ, in any thing to ouerthrow a chri&s;tian thought, knowing that as y^e word of God is a word of power to attaine &s;aluation to whom grace is giuen: and to worke eternall damnation where that gift is wan|ting, knowing it is the onely meanes to debell and conquere the chri&s;tian thought, for as a man is gouerned by a law &amp; by it liues, &s;o if any thing be euidently directed again&s;t him in it, it &s;layes his hart, it ouerthrowes him, it takes away his power for euer, nor is it more bla&s;phemous to be &s;peake to vs men, then to God him|&s;elfe, as it is in <HI>S. Alathero,</HI> where the diuell was not afeard, to a&s;&s;ayle his creatour with mo&s;t terrible argumentes of the diuine letter. They which haue right mindes can per&s;wade them&s;elues accordingly: but otherwi&s;e they may cauill as long as they will, which they may do to their &s;mall profit, a&s;&s;uring them this that in coueting by fault finding to &s;&eacute;eme learned, they make them|&s;elues the notes and reproach not only of the learned, but euen of the ab&s;urd and barbarous rude fooles, and that they are the onelye &s;pirits of error &amp; contention, and the chiefe cau&s;es of vnbeliefe by vayn rea&s;onings and que&s;tions to the vnre&s;olued chri&s;tian. But as for this &s;p&eacute;ech which is but <HI>Humile dicendigenus</HI> in very truth, let them thus thinke, that if there were any &s;uch controuer|&s;ie betwixt <HI>VVagner</HI> and his &s;pirit, as is here mentioned, that tho&s;e are not the words which were &s;poken, but that they doe pro|c&eacute;ede from a yong Scholler who gaue me this coppy, and not of a diuell, of who&s;e familiarity &amp; frequency &amp; of other circum&s;tantiue
<PB REF="14"> cau&s;es, I will God willing in the <HI>Cata&s;traphe</HI> and conclu&s;ion of this Booke deliuer vnto you my poore opinion. In the mean while I will follow the matter into which we are fallen my good frends &amp; without further adoe I pray without any more excu&s;iue phra&s;e, patiently expect the good houre wherein the death of this volume is prepared: <HI>Mepho&s;tophiles</HI> taking breath a little, pre&s;ented his &s;p&eacute;ech &s;aying: <Q REND="margDblQuotes">it is &s;aid likewi&s;e. <HI>Factum e&s;t autem vt more|retur mendicus. &amp;c. And it came to pa&s;&s;e that the begger dy|ed, and was carried away of Angels into Abrahams bo&s;ome, and that rich man died and was buried, and he being in Hel lif|ted vp his eies, when he was in torments, and &s;aw Abraham a farre off and Lazarus in his bo&s;ome.</HI></Q> Nor nothing doth that im|pugne which is &s;aid of the Papi&s;t, that he cannot come into Gods pre&s;ence nor be one of the elect vnle&s;&s;e they be purified from their &s;ins, for which purification, they ordain a place &s;o terribly &s;tucke with pins, n&eacute;edles, daggers, &s;words, nailes, &amp;c. &s;o &s;oultring with hote burning &s;urnaces, and &s;o euery way formidable with mate|riall &s;ulphury fires, that no tongue can expre&s;&s;e, nor any heart i|magine, wherein the &s;infull &s;oule mu&s;t be many times and often clen&s;ed, but I hope if this were true then <HI>Lazarus</HI> &s;hould haue bin likewi&s;e &s;o dre&s;t in their terrible imagined terrors, which he was not, vnle&s;&s;e they will be &s;o impudent to &s;ay that he had no &s;inne. I &s;hall not n&eacute;ede to di&s;pute how ab&s;urd it is to &s;ay that the &s;in of the &s;oule in the body committed, mu&s;t be extirpated and purified by a materiall &s;ub&s;taunce and rigour, nor of the matter of the like ar|gument. And hereupon he &s;emed to &s;igh as if &s;ome &s;odain thought had ouerpre&s;t his &s;tomacke. I can quoth he largely di&s;cour&s;e of al diuine and humaine propo&s;itions, but as the vnlearned Parrat who &s;peaketh oft and much, and vnder&s;tandeth neuer any thing to profite him&s;elfe. Ah that vnto vs Spirites no &s;ecrets are &s;e|cret, no doings of man vnhid, and yet wee Diuels cur&s;ed of God are incapable of any of Gods mercies, though through them we were created. We know repentance is the way to attaine the cele&s;tiall &s;auour: we know Gods mercies how great they are, &amp; that we ought to di&s;paire of nothing, yet there is nothing (&s;uch is our &s;&eacute;eing blindne&s;&s;e) &s;o it appertaine to God and godline&s;&s;e, of which we doe not di&s;paire. No <HI>Wagner</HI> wee are &s;o farre from li|uing againe, as we are from certainty to bee &s;aued. <Q REND="margDblQuotes">But in &s;tead
<PB REF="14"> of that we are cro&s;&s;ed with all kinde of vexation, for &s;ince the fir&s;t time that I with my Mai&s;ter and fellowes fell downe from Hea|uen being of the mo&s;t royall order of Angels, Pote&s;tates, Cheru|bins, and Seraphins, riding vppon the winges of the Winde in all bright &s;hining Maie&s;ty, and enioying the mo&s;t glorious and uiuine pre&s;ence of our Creatour, till for our heart &s;welling pride, and hawty in&s;olency, within as little &s;pace of time as wee were created in, with his dreadful lightning threw vs downe headlong into the bottomle&s;&s;e <HI>Aby&s;&s;es</HI> of the Aire, wherein wee endure the&s;e tortures and like wicked &s;ouls with vs, as our manifold de|&s;erts haue brought vppon vs. And for that we know that the way to mercy is vtterly denied, and that we are as much hated of our &s;elues as of God, we thinke it the &s;w&eacute;ete&s;t remedy in the&s;e mani|folde mi&s;eries to haue partakers of our common woe with vs. Wherefore it is mo&s;t expedient for vs to be thus enuiou&s;ly maliti|ous again&s;t all mankind, making them too as far in Gods dread|full cur&s;e as our &s;elues.</Q></P>
<P><HI>VVagner</HI> melting at the&s;e words, his eies vndid the great burthen of his &s;orrow, &s;trayning him&s;elfe &s;o long that he wept, &amp; yet could &s;ay nothing, but onely a &s;mall volley of &s;obs ha&s;tily fol|lowing: <HI>Mepho&s;tophiles</HI> &s;&eacute;eing how <HI>VVagner</HI> was drowned in &s;o d&eacute;epe a melancholy, told him pulling him by the &s;l&eacute;eue that he would be &s;till demaunding of &s;uch fooli&s;h que&s;tions which will profite him &s;o little as mought be. <Q REND="margDblQuotes">Knowe&s;t thou not (quoth he) that all the Rhetorickes are the &s;eruaunts of my tongue, or that we can moue pitty or hatred when we plea&s;e, foole as thou art forget the&s;e vaine conferences, per&s;wade thy &s;elfe that they are but the effect of &s;peach, long can&s;t thou not liue, and yet doe&s;t thou liue as if thou did&s;t not long: youthly &s;hould be thy thoughts, and fraught with the ranck lu&s;tines of conceite and amorous delight, if thou wilt aske que&s;tions let them be &s;uch as appertaine to loue and wealth, to plea&s;ure, to pa&s;time, and to merriment. Howe &s;aie&s;t thou to &s;uch a one, naming a Gentlewoman the mo&s;t beau|tifull Lady vnder the cope of Heauen? thou &s;halt enioy her, nay any one &s;o &s;he be one whome thou li&s;ts to call beautifull, who&s;oe|uer thy eies &s;hall lay their delight vppon. And pre&s;ently Mu&s;ick was hearde &s;o &s;w&eacute;ete, &s;o plenteous, and &s;o raui&s;hinge, as if on Mu&s;icke depended all &s;w&eacute;ete, all plenty, al raui&s;hment.</Q> The doors
<PB REF="15"> conuaying the~&s;elues a&s;ide, as giuing place to &s;o diuine a fairenes, entring in a blew Veluet Gowne ra&s;ed, and thickely be&s;et in the gards with mo&s;t pure Doches of gould, not altogether ignorant of precious &s;tones, &s;ued with royall Ermines, loo&s;e about her: her heads ornament, (though greater ornament to her head then her head there could not be) was a kind of atirde Caule (&s;uch as I haue &s;&eacute;ene none in England according to their de&s;cription) rai&s;ed vp at the corners with &s;tiffe &s;quare wiers of beaten gould, on that a Chaplet or frontire of Ro&s;es, on the Chaplet a vaile of Lawne, which couered all her faire body denying the &s;ight of &s;uch an An|gell, but onely through a &s;hadow: In briefe &s;h&eacute;e was &s;uch a one as would haue rou&s;ed the ba&s;e&s;t de&s;ire in the whole Worlde to at|tempt wondrous enterpri&s;es, in her hands &s;ilken &s;oft, &s;h&eacute;e helde a Lute, di&s;cour&s;ing &s;w&eacute;etelye vppon the &s;olemn &s;tringes with her nimble fingers. A maide carrying a blew waxen Taper in a &s;il|uer white Candle&s;ticke made in fa&s;hion of a Cen&s;or, but it was deriued into two &s;euerall branches, in who&s;e ends were curiou&s;ly wroght two mo&s;t beautiful places to pight tapers one. The maid bir Lady would haue well contented a rea&s;onable proper Squire, it was a pretty rancke la&s;&s;e, round about as plump as a Bladder, which being yet &s;moaking new is blowen vp with Winde: well I will not trouble you with the&s;e rude de&s;criptions any longer, but de&s;ire you to conceaue the excellency of this fair Lady, for it is farre more copious in the Dutch Coppy then is here nece&s;&s;ary to to be recapitulated. <HI>Wagners</HI> heart leaping at this &s;ight looked about him, as if he would haue no body priuy to him&s;elfe but him|&s;elfe, and &s;o it was in d&eacute;ede, for <HI>Fau&s;tus, Mepho&s;tophiles,</HI> and <HI>Akercocke</HI> were gone, and thereupon with a boone courage ad|uancing him&s;elfe vppon his toes, and w&eacute;eding him&s;elfe in the be&s;t Germane fa&s;hion, as he could very well, began to trauaile vnto her, but remembring his bad apparell &s;tept backe and blu&s;ht, and hid his face, but &s;odainely retourning againe as if he had known now how rather to become his w&eacute;edes, began to fewter him&s;elfe, but O wonder, his habite was changed with his thought, and he was now no more <HI>Wagner</HI> but <HI>Armi&s;uerio</HI> the Ladies Lorde. And to be &s;hort this new <HI>Armi&s;uerio</HI> and old <HI>VVagner</HI> mette with the Lady, and &s;aluting her in the be&s;t kinde of <HI>Bon noche,</HI> v&s;ed her as he would doe his Lady, and &s;h&eacute;e him as her Lord. So
<PB REF="15"> pa&s;&s;ing auer their weary night in &s;uch plea&s;ure as I could find in my heart to enioy or any man (vnle&s;&s;e an Euenuch be&s;ide.)</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="7" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>The arriual of the Me&s;&s;enger at Wittenberg, and the de&s;crip|tion of VVagner. CHAP. VII.</HEAD>
<P>IT is time to winde about another furrow with our &s;werting T&eacute;eme and bring our &s;p&eacute;ech to another matter, entring out of one into another, for change is &s;w&eacute;et. Not forgetting by the way the Purceuant or as we may better call him a Me&s;&s;enger who lately departed from Vienna in Au&s;tria, and I thinke by that time this di&s;putation was fini&s;hed, had almo&s;t ouertaken all the way betwixt him and home, which was &s;ome fift&eacute;ene daies tra|uaile, after fiue Germane miles to the daies labour, and arriued at Wittenberg, by enquiry came to <HI>Wagners</HI> chamber, which was in the way as y&eacute;e goe to the Publicke Schooles, as y&eacute;e goe from <HI>Melancthons</HI> hou&s;e, a pretty hou&s;e &amp; of a rea&s;onable large &s;i&s;e built of hewen &s;tone, and enuironed with a good thicke Wall, of &s;ome thr&eacute;e foote and a halfe thicke and twenty high, at the bot|tome guarded about with a good broad Mount of &s;euen yardes o|uer, and round about very large and &s;ecret walkes, farre from al company and re&s;ort, and there he might talke without feare with the Diuel and his Dam to, thither this fellow comming knocked peremptorily at the doore, <HI>Wagner</HI> was euen now gone to his &s;tu|dy, &amp; ri&s;ing vp in a Pedlers chafe, that he &s;hould goe to his booke, e&s;pecially if it were goodne&s;&s;e not once in a moneth, and yet then to be troubled, he &s;wore a litle thing would make him neuer &s;tudy more, it &s;hould not, but putting one his cloake and his hat, came downe and vnbolted the doore: Vnto whome the Me&s;&s;enger &s;&eacute;e|ing &s;uch a pretty iolly fellow did &s;ome little of reuerence, <HI>Wagner</HI> as yet &s;carce hauing let downe his choller, &s;tept backe, and per|ceiuing him weare &s;uch a W&eacute;ede as Serieants there doe v&s;e to weare, thinking with him&s;elfe that &s;ome had come fro~ the prince for coo&s;ening of his &s;eruaunts, &s;hut the doore vppon him and went powting and &s;wearing and pittifully chafing, that if the knaue o|fered to &s;ue him he would &s;urely kill him at the lea&s;t, downe hee fetcht a good Ba&s;tinado and &s;et it behind the doore and opened it a|gaine, and demaunded &s;omewhat mildly what he had to &s;ay vnto
<PB REF="16"> him, to whom the Me&s;&s;enger &s;ayd, that he came from the Arch-Duke of Au&s;tria from Vienna, who willing to heare &s;ome cer|tainety of his Mai&s;ter, did &s;end for him a&s;&s;uring him&s;elfe, that not onely he could &s;atisfie his de&s;ire in that matter, but al&s;o &s;hew him as much skill as euer his mai&s;ter had. <HI>Wagner</HI> hearing the pur|po&s;e of his me&s;&s;age with good effectual words, thankt him agayn, and rendred mo&s;t &s;eruiceable reuerence to his good Lord and Ma|&s;ter for remembring &s;o gently of his poore &s;eruant &amp;c. De&s;iring him to tarry vntill he might &s;et euery thing in due order and hee would not faile to goe with him. The Me&s;&s;enger did not denye him, and &s;o they went vp together into their Chamber, whome euer after the Me&s;&s;enger loued dearly for his proper behauior and per&s;onage, for in d&eacute;ede <HI>Wagner</HI> was a very goodly young man, being about the common &s;tature, &s;treight and rea&s;onably &s;lender, well tru&s;t, his haire very yellow and his face faire, his bearde which did but now expre&s;&s;e the blo&s;&s;omes of his lu&s;ty courage of y^e like yellow, wel mannered, as hauing bin brought vp among&s;t the fine&s;t and be&s;t &s;ort of Diuels: hauing a plea&s;ant filed tong, and would make the dainty Rhetoricke come as &s;moothly out of his mouth as an arrow out of a p&eacute;ece of paper, well could he talke of amorous deuices, &amp; entreat the braue&s;t Ladies with &s;w&eacute;et en|tertainment, in truth by report he was a Gentle-like man, and accompli&s;hed with as many fine partes as a better man than hee might iu&s;tly vaunt of: he could play vppon any fine In&s;trument, and was not ignorant of any laudable exerci&s;es, carrying a braue lu&s;ty conceite euen to his death: and furni&s;hed with many pro|portions of art, ther was nothing wanting in the man but a god|ly mindo.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="8" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>The Tragedy of Doctor Fau&s;tus &s;eene in the Ayre, and acted in the pre&s;ence of a thou&s;and people of Wittenberg. An. 1540. CHAP. VIII.</HEAD>
<P>IN a braue &s;ommer Sun-&s;hine day, the whole people of Witten|berg being gathered together, to beholde certaine matches for the Garland who could drinke mo&s;t, and al&s;o to &s;&eacute;e a match &s;hotte at a pair of Buts with Harquebu&s;hiers, as their order is in a low meddow hard by the Elue: which now being on his fre&s;he&s;t pride
<PB REF="16"> was full of fine and &s;w&eacute;ete flowers, being in the latter end of the moneth wherein the Sunne departs from the la&s;t embracings of <HI>Gemini.</HI> On a &s;odaine there was &s;&eacute;ene a maruailous bright and glorious Rayne-bow, &s;preading the wide armes ouer the wide World, and &s;treight was there hard a noi&s;e of Trumpets, &s;oun|dinge a &s;hort flori&s;h, and then another, and by and by another all alike &s;hort, at the which the a&s;&s;embly was wonderou&s;ly affeard, and li&s;tned, de&s;irous to &s;&eacute;e the effect of this wonder and &s;traunge miracle, &s;ome of them fell to their <HI>Aue maries</HI> lu&s;tely, thinkinge that the vniuer&s;all Doome had b&eacute;ene at that in&s;tant, as thus they beheld with admiration, they might di&s;tinctly perceiue a goodlye Stage to be reard (&s;hining to &s;ight like the bright burni&s;h golde) vppon many a faire Pillar of cleare&s;t Cri&s;tall, who&s;e f&eacute;ete re&s;ted vppon the Arch of the broad Rayne-bow, therein was the high Throne wherein the King &s;hould &s;it, and that prowdly placed with two and twenty degr&eacute;es to the top, and round about curi|ous wrought chaires for diuer&s;e other Potentates, there might you &s;&eacute;e the ground-worke at the one end of the Stage whereout the per&s;onated diuels &s;hould enter in their fiery ornaments, made like the broad wide mouth of an huge Dragon, which with conti|nuall armies of &s;moake and flame breathed foorth his angry &s;to|mackes rage, round about the eies grew haires not &s;o horrible as men call bri&s;&s;els, but more horrible as long and &s;tiffe &s;peares, the t&eacute;eth of this Hels mouth far out &s;tretching, and &s;uch as a man might well call mon&s;trous, and more then a man can by wordes &s;ignifie: to be &s;hort his hew of that colour which to him&s;elf means &s;orrow, &amp; to others mini&s;ters like pa&s;&s;ion: a thicke lampe blacke, blacker then any paint, any Hell, blacker then it owne &s;elfe. At the other end in oppo&s;ition was &s;&eacute;ene the place wherein the bloud|le&s;&s;e skirmi&s;hes are &s;o often perfourmed on the Stage, the Wals (not &s;o plea&s;aunt as old wiues woulde haue their tales addorned with) of Pa&s;ty cru&s;t, but Iron attempered with the mo&s;te firme &s;t&eacute;ele, which being brightly filed &s;hone as beautifully ouer the whole place as the Pale &s;himinge Cynthia, enuironed with high and &s;tately Turrets of the like mettall and beautye; and hereat many in gates and out-gates: out of each &s;ide lay the ben|ded Ordinaunce, &s;hewing at their wide hollowes the crueltye of death: out of &s;undry loopes many large Banners and Streamers
<PB REF="17"> were pendant, brieflye nothing was there wanting that might make it a faire Ca&s;tle. There might you &s;&eacute;e to be &s;hort the Gib|bet, the Po&s;ts, the Ladders, the tiring hou&s;e, there euery thing which in the like hou&s;es either v&s;e or nece&s;&s;ity makes common. Now aboue all was there the gay Clowdes <HI>V&s;que quaque</HI> a|dorned with the heauenly firmament, and often&s;potted with gol|den teares which men call Stars: There was liuely portrayed the whole Imperiall Army of the faire heauenly inhabitauntes, the bright Angels, and &s;uch who&s;e names to declare in &s;o vile a matter were too impious and &s;acrilegious. They were &s;o natu|rally done that you would haue &s;worne it had b&eacute;ene Heauen it &s;elf or the Epitome of it, or &s;ome &s;econd Heauen, and a new Heauen it was, from thence like dewy drops wherein the Sun layes his golden &s;hine, making them to appeare like &s;mall golden teares, the &s;w&eacute;ete odours and comforting liquor &s;treamde, and &s;&eacute;emde al|waies to raine from thence but they neuer fell, but kept a beaten path from downe on high wherein the de&s;cending Angell might reioyce. I &s;hould be too long if I &s;hould expre&s;&s;e this rare Stage, e&s;pecially in &s;uch &s;ort and &s;uch like words as the like occa&s;ion in a more worthy &s;ubiect wuld require, but of nece&s;&s;ity we mu&s;t bare|ly apply our de&s;criptions to the nature of the whole Hi&s;tory. Wee mu&s;t not faile in the fir&s;t principle of Art, according to that of <HI>Ho|race.</HI></P>
<Q LANG="lat"><L>Humano capiti ceruicem pictor equinam</L>
<L>Iungere &s;i velit, &amp; varias inducere plumas</L>
<L>Vndique collatis membris, vt turpiter atrum</L>
<L>De&s;inat in pi&s;cem mulier formo&s;a &s;uperne:</L>
<L>Spectatum admi&s;si ri&s;um teneatis amici.</L>
<L>Credit e Pi&s;ones i&s;ti fabulae fore librum</L>
<L>Per &s;imilem.</L>
<L>Non vt placidis cocant immitia.</L></Q>
<P>I &s;hall not n&eacute;ede to turne backe to declare the d&eacute;epe a&s;toni&s;he|ment of the people, who are alwaies in mo&s;t &s;mall manners in|duced ea&s;ely to wondering, but now this excellent faire Theator erected, immediatly after the third &s;ound of the Trumpets, there entreth in the Prologue atttired in a blacke ve&s;ture, and making his thr&eacute;e obey&s;ances, began to &s;hew the argument of that Sceni|call Tragedy, but becau&s;e it was &s;o far off they could not vnder|&s;tand
<PB REF="17"> the wordes, and hauing thrice bowed him&s;elfe to the high Throne, pre&s;ently vani&s;hed. Then out of this repre&s;entaunce of Hels mouth, i&s;&s;ued out whole Armies of fiery flames, and mo&s;te thick foggy &s;moakes, after which entred in a great batell of foote|men Diuels, all armed after the be&s;t fa&s;hion with pike &amp;c, march|ing after the &s;troake of the couragious Drum, who girded about laid &s;iege to this faire Ca&s;tle, on who&s;e Wals after the &s;ummons <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> pre&s;ented him&s;elfe vppon the battelments, armed with a great number of Cro&s;&s;es, pen and incke hornes, charmes, chara|cters, &s;eales; periapts &amp;c. who after &s;harpe wordes defled the whole a&s;&s;embly, &s;&eacute;eming to &s;peake earne&s;tly in his owne defence, and as they were ready to reare the Ladders, and <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> hadde begun to prepare for the counterbattery, determining to throw downe vppon the a&s;&s;emblies heads &s;o many heauy charmes and coniurations, that they &s;hould fall downe halfe way from the a&s;+cendant, whil&s;t the&s;e things began to waxe whot from the afore|&s;ayd Heauen, there de&s;cended a Legion of bright Angels ridinge vppon milke white Chariots, drawn with the like white &s;t&eacute;eds, who with cele&s;tiall diuine melody came into the Towre, to the intent to fight for the Doctor again&s;t his furious enemies, but he wanting pay-money, and voide in d&eacute;ede of all good thoughts not able to abide their mo&s;t ble&s;&s;ed pre&s;ence &s;ent them away, and they returned fro~ whence they came, &s;orrowfully lamenting his mo&s;t wilfull ob&s;tinacy, whil&s;t he had all be nointed the Wals with ho|ly Water, and painted with bloud many a crim&s;on Cro&s;&s;e. At length the Alarme was giuen, and the Ladders cleaude to the Wals, vp the a&s;&s;aylants climbde, vppe they lifted their fearefull weapons. <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> not able (de&s;titute of helpe) to with&s;tand them was taken pri&s;oner, and his towre down ra&s;ed to the earth, with who&s;e fall both the large Heauen and World &s;hooke and quaked mightely, whom when they had fettered they left ther, they mar|ching out and the forenamed Chaires were pre&s;ently occupied with all the Imperiall rulers of Hell, who clothed in their holy|day apparel &s;at there to giue Iudgement vppon this wilfull <HI>Fau|&s;tus,</HI> whom two Hangmans of Hell vnloofed, and there in pre|&s;ence of them all the great diuell afore his chiefe p&eacute;eres, fir&s;t &s;tam|ping with his angry foote, and then &s;haking his great bu&s;he of hair, that therewith he made the neare places and the mo&s;t proud
<PB REF="18"> Diuels courages to tremble, and with his fire burnt &s;cepter, and his like coloured Crown, all of gold, &s;etting one arme by his &s;ide, and the other vppon the pummell of his Chaire, &s;hooke a prettye &s;pace with &s;uch angry fury, that the flames which proc&eacute;eded from his frightful eyes did dim the &s;ight of the Witte~bers b&eacute;elde. Ther was in this &s;ayd Wittenberg a gallant faire Lady and a virgin, which now following her mother accompanied with &s;undry gal|lant Germane Gentle-men, had euen nowe entred out of their Barge, and &s;&eacute;eing the whole world of people as they thought ga|&s;ing vp into the Heauen &s;o very &s;trangely, were partly &s;troken with wonder, &s;ome with feare, and &s;ome with &s;odaine merry|ment, and ha&s;ting down the hill more then a round pace, asked &s;ome what was there to doe, and they bid them looke vp (for here is to be noted that they looked vp afore but could &s;&eacute;e nothing but as alwayes they were wont vntill they &s;hewed them it) which they did, and at the &s;ame time wherein the great Diuell was in his red whot anger, this young Gentlewoman looked vp, who&s;e mo&s;t vgly &s;hape &s;o &s;eared her, that euen then there &s;h&eacute;e fell downe in a &s;own, whome they conuaied away very &s;p&eacute;edily, yet ere they could come home &s;h&eacute;e was welnigh dead, and &s;o &s;h&eacute;e lay for two yeares without hope of life, or certainty of death: great &s;orrowe to her parents, and as cruell paine to her: But &s;h&eacute;e at length reco|uered hir Spirite, and if by your patience I may I will tell you how. There was a mo&s;t learned and excellent Doctor dwelling in the Towne who had great knowledge in the blacke Art, who being reque&s;ted to v&s;e &s;ome Phi&s;icke to aide her in her greate ex|tremity, being promi&s;ed for reward fiue thou&s;and Dollars. This Doctor perceiuing the cau&s;e of her malady was not cau&s;ed of any di&s;temperature of her body, but only of the afore &s;ayd feare, knew that Phi&s;icke might well make her body &s;ound, but her mind ne|uer. Wherefore not onely for the reward, but al&s;o to becom gra|cious and famous at once, proc&eacute;eded in his cure on this manner. One night hauing made his Ori&s;ons and nine times combed his haire with teares of a pure maide, and nine times gone about a fire made all of pure Heben coale, and thrice nine times called vppon the name of the mo&s;t dreadfull <HI>Hecate,</HI> he laide him&s;elfe to &s;l&eacute;epe vppon a pure white and cleane vn&s;potted maidens &s;mocke, and couered him&s;elfe ouer with the a&s;hes of a white Hind ro&s;ted
<PB REF="18"> and burned altogether, he &s;lept, and the next morning apparelled in white robes, hauing often and often called, recalled, and exer|ci&s;ed the thr&eacute;e Fairies <HI>Millia, Achilya,</HI> and <HI>Sybilla</HI> at length the ground opened, and with them they brought a milke white St&eacute;ede, and did put vpon his finger the ring of inuin&s;ibility, when they were vani&s;hed, he mounted vp vppon his Hor&s;e, who with more &s;wift flight then the winged <HI>Pega&s;us</HI> carried him throughe the wide Aire &s;o fa&s;t and &s;o long, that hauing pa&s;&s;ed ouer <HI>Bohem, Hungary, Thracia,</HI> all <HI>Afin Minor, Me&s;opotamia,</HI> &amp; at length to <HI>Arabia, Foelix,</HI> where he alighted vppon a mo&s;t high Moun|taine, all the way from the top to the bottome of a iu&s;t bredth and &s;t&eacute;epenes, &s;o that he that were on that would thinke him&s;elfe not in the world, and they beneath would d&eacute;eme him to be in heauen, vpon the brims of it round about grew the high Pines, the &s;tate|ly Cedars, and alwaies &s;o gr&eacute;ene as the mo&s;t fre&s;h Meddow: the height of this huge rocke was two and twenty miles in euen alti|tude and halfe a mile of iu&s;t circuit all the way: there he tied his Hor&s;e to a Tr&eacute;e and knocked at the Ca&s;tle gate, where afore was neuer &s;&eacute;ene any, &s;o that no path could there b&eacute;e &s;&eacute;ene, &s;o that a man might iu&s;tly haue called it the hou&s;e of little Ho&s;pitality, to him there came <HI>Neglectment</HI> an old Lady, and demanded what he would, who told her his errand, and withall a ring of fine gold from the thr&eacute;e Fairies, &s;h&eacute;e knew the ring and his errand, &amp; con|uayed him into many a fair roome, wherein &s;h&eacute;e &s;hewed him ma|ny a worthy Knights memorials, many an antique Monument heaped vp, but inner roomes &s;o mon&s;trous darke and nightly, that no humaine eie could perceiue any thing, and foorth &s;h&eacute;e brought him vnto a Garden, out of the mid&s;t whereof ro&s;e a little Hill fro~ the &s;ummity whereof, there was a paued way of pure Chri&s;tall &s;tone, from along who&s;e bo&s;ome trilled a &s;mall Water: This wa|ter an olde man helde, and in d&eacute;ede he had it as a Patrimony, for therefore he could &s;hew many an auncient euidence, and worne Charter, his haire was all fled to his front, as if &s;ome enemy had &s;cared the hinder locks from his &s;calpe, on his backe hung a paire of Wings which flagged downe, as if either they had b&eacute;ene bro|ken or he weary, and thus he ouer &s;troad a round Worlde, from out if euery part whereof gu&s;hed out this &s;mall Riuer which was conuayed downe in this Chri&s;tall pipe, in his hand he held a long
<PB REF="19"> &s;ithe, and in the other an houre gla&s;&s;e, here the Doctor &s;&eacute;eing the old ruines of this &s;umptuous hou&s;e, and all the faire Walles and buildings ouergroan with a deadly Mo&s;&s;e was much ama&s;ed, but becau&s;e he could not tarry, he dipt a &s;mall Violl in the &s;pring and departed, and for becau&s;e he was &s;o peremptorily warned not to tarry, he could not behould the mo&s;t &s;tately Galleries, in which he might &s;&eacute;e the Worlds chiefe plea&s;ures and Monuments, &s;ome wholly worn away, &s;ome halfe, and &s;ome euen now beginning, and &s;ome wholy quite ouer-groane with a thicke earthye fur, for as he came by an old Wall he chaun&s;t with his elbow to rub off the thicke Mo&s;&s;e, and then might hee &s;&eacute;e a faire p&eacute;ece of Parche|ment gilded and painted curiou&s;ly, wherein was truely de&s;cribed the auncient tokens of a mo&s;t braue and worthy Gentleman, &s;o hauing &s;ped of his iourney he came by the &s;ame way againe as he went, <HI>Neglectment</HI> &s;hut the doors vpon him, whil&s;t he mounted vppon his white &s;wift footed Hor&s;e and by the like time ariued at his owne hou&s;e, where hauing with the bloud of a new &s;lain hey|fer, thrice annointed the f&eacute;et of his <HI>Cauallo,</HI> and tying at his eare with a &s;tring of fine &s;ilke &s;punne by the hands of a pure maid, the receiued ring of inui&s;ibility vnto his eare, with many a Cro&s;&s;e, and many open <HI>Aue Maria,</HI> di&s;mi&s;&s;ed him, who in the &s;ame mo|ment returned to the place from whence he came. With this wa|ter the Doctor came to the maide, and hauing v&s;ed a certaine in|cantation, gaue her to drinke of the water of d&eacute;epe <HI>Obliuion,</HI> which &s;he had no &s;oner ta&s;ted of, but &s;treight waies &s;he had forgot+ten the terrible picture of the Diuell, and was reuiued out of all her infernall feares, the Doctor called winning him credite, fa|uour and fame, and richly rewarded for his medicine, departed, &amp; running whome threw his Violl into the d&eacute;epe Riuer buryinge obliuion with obliuion, the parents of the young Lady reioy&s;ing exc&eacute;edingly at their daughters recouery, for euer after cau&s;ed the place wherein their daughter was thus &s;cared, to bee vnacce&s;&s;a|ble for man or bea&s;t, compa&s;&s;ing it in with a high wall, and ouer|throwing the banckes, &s;o that now there is no mention of the me|dow nor of the Wall.</P>
<P>The Diuell, the great Diuell <HI>Lucifer</HI> hauing fini&s;hed his briefe Oration, de&s;cended downe out of his Iudgement &s;eat, and pointing vnto all his Nobles, tooke <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> by the hand, and pla|ced
<PB REF="19"> him iu&s;t before him, taking him by the chinne &s;&eacute;emed to them to bid him &s;peake fr&eacute;ely, hee mounted vp againe vnto his high Throne, and with a more milde madne&s;&s;e expected the &s;p&eacute;eche of the Doctor, who hauing bowed him&s;elfe &s;ubmi&s;&s;iuely vnto the&s;e damnable company, he began to &s;peake, and yet not long, then he began to walke vppe and downe and to &s;hew &s;traunge ge&s;tures, when &s;odainely for &s;ome bugs words e&s;caped by <HI>Fau&s;tus,</HI> all the Diuels there ro&s;e vp, and with their &s;words drawen threatninge with them the poore Doctor, turning al their bodies and directing their faces to the King, who with a &s;terne countenaunce com|maunded &s;ilence. When <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> hauing long raged, of a &s;od|daine howling lowde, and tearing his haire, laide both his arms vppon his necke, and leapt down headlong of the &s;tage, the whole company immediately vani&s;hing, but the &s;tage with a mo&s;t mon|&s;trous thundering crack followed <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> ha&s;tely, the people ve|rily thinking that they would haue fallen vppon them ran all a|way, and he was happie&s;t that had the &s;wifte&s;t foote, &s;ome leapte into the Riuer and &s;wam away, and all of them with greate af|fright ranne into the Citty and clapt the Citty gates together, &s;treight, and to encrea&s;e this feare they thought they hard a thing fall into the riuer as if a thou&s;and hou&s;es had fallen downe from the toppe of Heauen into it. But afterwards this was knowen to be <HI>VVagners</HI> knauery, who did this to &s;hew the Purceuaunt &s;ome point of his skill.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="9" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. XI.</HEAD>
<P>THe me&s;&s;enger had not tarried aboue three dayes, when as <HI>Wagner</HI> had tru&s;t vp his baggage, and was now readie to depart when on the third day at night he cau&s;e his boy <HI>Artur Harmaruan,</HI> (who was the &s;onne of a wealthy boore, wittie a|boue manie, and prai&s;ed for his notable waggery: his father dwelt at <HI>Malmesburg</HI> a town hard by <HI>Wittenberg</HI> in <HI>Saxony</HI> in high Dutchland, with whome <HI>Wagner</HI> being acquainted had obtained him of his father to &s;erue him, and hee to be taught of <HI>Wagner</HI>) him he cau&s;e to go to diuer&s;e &s;chollers of his acquain|tance, to &s;uppe with him at his departure, who being inuited to this hated farewell, came &s;p&eacute;edily where they had a banquet and other curte&s;ies which in &s;uch a time both cu&s;tome and lawes of
<PB REF="20"> their fellow&s;hip doe pre&s;cribe: In the &s;upper time the &s;chollers moued many que&s;tions, and amonge&s;t the re&s;t one de&s;ired the pur&s;euant to de&s;cribe vnto them his Lord and mai&s;ter, for they heard &s;ay that the Duke <HI>Alphon&s;us,</HI> was a maruellous quali|fied Gentleman: The pur&s;euant not willing to refu&s;e their re|que&s;t told them that &s;eeing their demand proc&eacute;eded of a common good zeale, he could not but wrongully refu&s;e to &s;ati&s;fie: notwith|&s;tanding the trueth might be better knowne of another then of him, when duetie bids to be partiall, if anie defect might breede partialitie, but &s;o much as I will tell you, the enemie will not di&s;daine to affirme: And there hee tolde them the very &s;tature, proportion, and particular lineamentes, concluding that hee &s;hewed the vprightne&s;&s;e of his minde by the proportion of his bo|die, and keeping in his outward &s;hape, the vertue which philo&s;o|phers would haue kept in the minde. There hee tolde them the feature of his countenance, the colour of his haire, eyes, face, ch&eacute;ekes, &amp;c. He tolde them his &s;tature, fauour, and &s;trength, which was &s;uch, that with pure cleanne&s;&s;e of his force, hee hath foyld a gentleman in wra&s;tling, who be&s;ide wightne&s;&s;e of bodie, was very firme without affection, not as &s;ome doe which in per|forming any thing will with &s;uch a ridiculous &s;ourene&s;&s;e act it, as if the force of the bodie mu&s;t be per&s;onated vppon the Theater of his face: He declared vnto them that the giftes of his minde were &s;uch as then he could not for the number recken vp, but euen as occa&s;ion &s;hould &s;erue might m&eacute;ete with them, being all &s;uche as were more ready to be admired then imitated, as if all vertues were gathered in him together, magnanimity, magnificence, af|fability, mode&s;ty &amp;c. briefely (h&eacute;e &s;aide) there were in him all tho&s;e Graces, which adorne the &s;ubiect with the title of Vertuous. He likewi&s;e recounted vnto them his &s;tudies, vnto which he accom|modated him&s;elfe at vacant houres, were partly the Poetry. A Poem of his he &s;aide he had by chaunce gotten, (and by greater chaunce had it there at that in&s;tant) which hee had made in prai&s;e of his excellent Lady when he was but of young yeares, his Fa|ther liuing I dare &s;ay he would not for ten thou&s;and florens haue it &s;&eacute;ene, being &s;uch a one as on a dreaming pa&s;&s;ion he had let fall from his penne and of many the mo&s;t abiect, but &s;uch as this is de&s;erues commendations, becau&s;e a Prince made it, but if you &s;aw
<PB REF="20" MS="y"> his reall deui&s;es, you would then &s;ay they were Princelike. And then he read it, which I was loath my good friends either to tran|&s;late or tran&s;lated to pre&s;ent it here, for that it was not worthie your cen&s;ure, con&s;idering the nice buildings of <HI>Sonnets</HI> nowe a daies, but according to <HI>Ari&s;tos</HI> vaine you &s;hall finde it very con|firmable, as al&s;o for that I knew that if I &s;hould haue left it out, it would haue b&eacute;ene more wi&s;ht for then now admirde. Yet for that I preferre your well knowen good wils afore any vain fear, take this with the re&s;t if they be any with &s;uch fauor, as if I were by you at the reading.</P>
<Q LANG="ita"><LG>
<L><HI>A mio &s;olemente amandona</HI></L>
<L><HI>Madonna: Donna non parelia.</HI></L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L><HI>L' Angelico &s;embiante e quel bel volte,</HI></L>
<L><HI>Fa l'odio, e l'ira va in obliuione,</HI></L>
<L><HI>Ch' a l' &amp;c.</HI></L>
</LG></Q>
<P><HI>Thus haue I har&s;hly Engli&s;hed them verbally.</HI></P>
<Q><LG>
<L>Angellike &s;emblaunce beauties ornament,</L>
<L>Who&s;e Vertue quels all wrath and rancor deepe,</L>
<L>Who&s;e life Heauens grace and death would monument</L>
<L>Vertue thy life are.<NOTE PLACE="marg">The Letter were worne out in this place.</NOTE></L>
<L>How many wounded hearts thou mak&s;t to tremble,</L>
<L>And I of many one cannot di&s;&s;emble,</L>
<L>How farre into in <GAP DESC="blank"> that ere-&s;ore.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>So were thy beauty but de&s;eruing prai&s;e,</L>
<L>So were thy beauty but as feminine,</L>
<L>Then could my quill his &s;traine &s;o high array&s;e,</L>
<L>Then could with it compare the ma&s;culine,</L>
<L>Thy beauty prai&s;e thy bounty &s;pa&s;t diuine,</L>
<L>No &s;traine no quill &s;uch wonderments a&s;&s;aies,</L>
<L>Then Poets pen &s;hall to thy power his power re&s;igne,</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>What words may wel expre&s;&s;e &s;uch excellence,</L>
<L>No humane thought thy beauties may compri&s;e</L>
<L>And wordes may tell al humane in&s;olence,</L>
<PB REF="21">
<L>All humane words and witte thy gifts &s;urpri&s;e.</L>
<L>To &s;atisfie my &s;elfe in my pretence,</L>
<L>Our pen vnto the heauens mu&s;t wander hence.</L>
<L>And fill it &s;elfe with dew of heauenly Sapience.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>And I my life &s;hall to your hands re&s;igne,</L>
<L>VVhich liue to &s;erue a humane Sainct &s;o pa&s;t deuine.</L>
</LG></Q>
<Q LANG="ita"><LG>
<L><HI>Se da colei.</HI></L>
<L><HI>Che poco ingegno adhoradhor mi lima.</HI></L>
</LG></Q>
<P>This Sonnet was ended with as much prai&s;e as it beganne with de&s;ire, and one of them coppied it out, and &s;o it was made common to the re&s;t, &amp; made a good &s;ort of them Poets, rectifying their gro&s;&s;e conceits, with &s;o &s;w&eacute;ete a matter. He tould them that this was but a preparatiue to wondering in re&s;pect of his choi&s;e makings. Then he &s;hewed them this Epigram, which he made when as before the Duke his Father, a brace of faire Engli&s;he Grey hounds fell down at the Harts h&eacute;els &s;tarke dead, (the Hart al&s;o lying not aboue &s;ixe yards off dead to) with cha&s;ing, hauing out &s;tript the re&s;t of the dogs aboue halfe a mile.</P>
<P>Then he reckonned vnto him the delight he tooke in <HI>Lym|ming,</HI> and &s;hewed them very many fine deui&s;es of his own han|dy worke. The &s;collers &s;ingularly delighted with the viewe of the reliques of &s;o great a Prince, approued by &s;ilence that excel|lency which by &s;p&eacute;ech they could not. In fine there hee reckoned by enough to be pray&s;ed, and peraduenture more then was true, but not more then is de&s;ired. There he &s;et forth with greate and ardent Empha&s;is other qualities, as his skill and hardy demea|nour at the Tilt turney, how he could menage the &s;turdy &s;teade, leape, run, vaunt, dance, &s;ing, play on diuer&s;e In&s;truments, and talke with amiable &s;p&eacute;ech amonge&s;t faire Ladies which wee call courting, in all his actions full of gentle familiar affability, &s;till re&s;eruing to him&s;elf the due honor belonging to his per&s;onage. He concluded in fine that he was the mo&s;t qualified Prince and ab&s;o|lute Gentleman that day in all Chri&s;tendome: &s;aying if they knew his humanity, iu&s;tice and liberality, you would &s;ay in him were all humanity, iu&s;tice and liberality: And as the greate&s;t thing that the world can &s;hew is beauty, &s;o the lea&s;t thinge that
<PB REF="21"> is to be prai&s;ed, in him is beauty, you would &s;ay no le&s;&s;e then I haue &s;poken could be in his per&s;on if you did but &s;&eacute;e him. Thus far the digre&s;&s;ion came in the commendations of this <HI>Alphon&s;us</HI> which truely I was weary of, fearing the great in&s;ufficiency of the de&s;cription, but yet he had not done. I would to God (quoth he) you would come to Vienna and I promi&s;e you &s;uch lodging &amp; entertainement, that next to the &s;ight of him &s;hould be worthie&s;t of your thankes. Wherefore you &s;hall not &s;orrow that your frend <HI>Wagner</HI> departeth vnle&s;&s;e you will &s;&eacute;eme to enuy rather his feli|city then his departure. I would we were euen all of vs as w&eacute;e &s;itte at the Table in the Dukes Court, and here againe with a wi&s;h, and herewith their knockt one at the doore, <HI>Wagner</HI> crafte|ly fayning that he him&s;elfe would ri&s;e to &s;&eacute;e him that knockt &s;o, de&s;iring them all to &s;it &s;till in any ca&s;e, and opening therwith the doore, there entred two young Lords of <HI>Terge&s;te</HI> and <HI>Morauia,</HI> bearing Torches, &amp; next there came the Duke of <HI>Au&s;trich,</HI> as they thought, &amp; <HI>Wagner</HI> talked with him bare headed (the Pur|ceuant thinking verily it had b&eacute;ene his Mai&s;ter, would haue done his duty vnto him, but that the re&s;t hindered him: on his heade he wore a little Hat of blew veluet, with a rich band of pearle, &s;tone and gould, and a long white feather, his cloake of blewe veluet, round garded with gould lace, edged with Orient pearle, and be|twixt the gards oylet holes whereout hung by &s;mall &s;ilke thredes long bugles, all the &s;l&eacute;eues in the like order: by his &s;ide a golden hilted Rapier, and on his Rapier his hand, his Buskins of the fine Polonian leather, richly embrodered, on the turnings down with co&s;tly Gold-&s;miths worke, al his apparell what&s;oeuer mo&s;t beautiful and princely, he had no &s;ooner pa&s;&s;ed by (which was not vntill he was di&s;tinctly viewed of them) but that <HI>Wagner</HI> &s;pake vnto them in &s;uch manner: &s;aying that that Honorable this mans Lord had &s;ent for him, who&s;e commaundement I will in no wi&s;e repugne. Wherefore I be&s;&eacute;eche you to take it as you would my greate&s;t aduancement. This his de&s;cription of his feature, iudge how rightly he hath &s;aide, for my part I confe&s;&s;e that they are rather le&s;&s;e then the trueth, then not as he hath re|ported, and herein to &s;atisfie you the more I haue cau&s;ed my &s;pi|rite <HI>Akercocke</HI> to take his &s;hape vppon him.</P>
<P>Now (quoth he) it is time to depart, but becau&s;e it &s;hall bee
<PB REF="22"> the la&s;t night of our m&eacute;eting none of you &s;hall depart, for I haue lodging enough for you all, and for you &s;hall not be forgetfull of <HI>Wagner</HI> when he is gone, let euery man wi&s;h his woman, and &s;o to bed my mai&s;ters. They began all to laugh merrely, not as hoping or wi&s;hing, but as if they had heard a merry purpo&s;e, and therefore they laughed becau&s;e it was merry, and &s;uch mirth they alwaies liked off. <HI>VVagner</HI> was almo&s;t angry, and yet for that he was almo&s;t he was not angry, &s;ending out a great oath as the Prologue of his Comedy, bidding his Boy goe prepare theyr beds and chambers, and bid them wi&s;h whom they woulde, h&eacute;e would their wi&s;hes &s;hould be perfourmed. Then ro&s;e vp one of the &s;chollers per&s;wading him&s;elfe of <HI>VVagners</HI> earne&s;t, and yet doubting, becau&s;e he feared he was not in earne&s;t. Why (quoth he) if you meane in very d&eacute;ede my friend <HI>Kit.</HI> I would I had &s;uch a woman, I bel&eacute;eue be&s;ide her &s;elfe there is none fairer then the faire&s;t in this towne. Why w&eacute;ene&s;t thou I ie&s;t (quoth <HI>Wagner,</HI> goe thy waies, yonder &s;h&eacute;e is vppon paine of my head, and &s;o it was in d&eacute;ede: then euery one &s;troue who &s;hould wi&s;he fir&s;t, and he that wi&s;ht la&s;t had his fir&s;t wi&s;h, &s;o euery one tooke his Dam|zel and for that night departed to their beds, who are witne&s;&s;es of that nights great plea&s;ures, &amp; in the morning they aro&s;e wi&s;hing that euery morning were the morrow of &s;uch a night. Euery one gate him a Hackney, and brought him on the way a daies iour|ney, where they with great griefe left him, who rode til he came to Vienna, and they till they arriued at Wittenberg. Thus &s;till you &s;&eacute;e the&s;e Potte m&eacute;etings, are ended emong&s;t the&s;e puft-ch&eacute;ekt <HI>Hannikins</HI> with bed daliaunces, rightly de&s;cribing their liues mo&s;t be&s;tiall and Epicure-like.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="10" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>A lamentable hi&s;tory of the death of &s;undry &s;tudents of Wit|tenberg. CHAP. X.</HEAD>
<P>NOt long after it was reported and bla&s;ed abroade that <HI>Wag|ner</HI> was departed, diuer&s;e Schollers ge&s;&s;ing that he had left his Bookes or the mo&s;t part behinde, determined to &s;end for <HI>Har|maruan,</HI> which they did, who by no per&s;wa&s;ions could be wonne to let them haue his mai&s;ters Keyes, &s;o they deui&s;ed among&s;t the~|&s;elues to bind the Boy as he &s;hould goe home to his Inne, where
<PB REF="22"> as his Mai&s;ter had put him to boord till his returne. And night drawing on <HI>Harmaruan</HI> went to his lodging, by the way &s;chol|lers to the number of &s;eauen mette him and bound him, and beat him &s;ore vntill he gaue them all the Keyes, which he carefully ca|ried about him &s;owed in a wide Germane &s;loppe, which when they had (they being all muffled and di&s;gui&s;ed &s;trangely with vi|zards) they loo&s;ed, and then they ran ha&s;tely to <HI>VVagners</HI> hou&s;e, as if they had fled from followers, or el&s;e followed &s;ome ha&s;telye flying, wher being come, they opened the gates, and being entred &s;hut them again, this being about eleuen of the clocke in y^e night, &amp; in they went, where they found two Barrels of mighty &s;trong March Engli&s;h B&eacute;ere of two years old, which they broched, and &s;ate &s;o long drinking till they were all well druncke. And then downe they get into a backe Court, and hauing lighted Tapers, hauing iniuriou&s;ly framed all the circles, &s;quares, triangles, &amp;c. and apparelled with all the coniuring roabes that the Art requi|reth, there they begin in a mo&s;t dreadfull confu&s;ion of helli&s;he &s;il|lables to enforme the F&eacute;end, and after the&s;e words followed as if there n&eacute;edes mu&s;t &s;uch thinges follow after &s;uch words, a terri|ble roare, and then &s;o bright a &s;moothring thick fiery fume a&s;cen|ded out of the earth as if it woulde haue made an eternall night, then a vehement flame followed which with continuall motion, ran about the brims of the circle, vntill as weary it left moouing, (all this while they continued rea&s;onably con&s;tant, and continu|ed their inuocations without any feare) then from beneath was heard mo&s;t lamentable outcries, from aboue huge trembling, thunder, and round about nothing but feare and death in a thou|&s;and terrible diuer&s;e &s;hapes, then they began to quaile a little, but yet by encouragement grew hardy by rea&s;on of the number, then round about was &s;ounded alarms with drums, and one&s;ette with Trumpets, as if there all the World had conflicted, then y^e flame which all this while ran about the circle became a body, but &s;uche a body, as if it had b&eacute;ene but a Picture woulde haue madded any one. At who&s;e &s;ight they wholy ouercome with deadly fear for|gat the v&s;e of their Pantacles or any &s;uch geare, but euen &s;ubmit|ted them&s;elues to the &s;mall mercy of the F&eacute;end, who with great violence rent them and fore them mo&s;t lamentably. <HI>Harmar|uan</HI> who had rai&s;ed a great many to the intent to follow them &s;u&s;|pecting
<PB REF="23"> that which in d&eacute;ede was, was after long wandring (for they had cau&s;ed a Diuell di&s;crier to voide all within a certain cir|cuite) with his company brought to the hou&s;e, where rounde a|bout they might &s;&eacute;e in the Court wherein the&s;e &s;eauen were con|iuring, huge flames as if &s;ome great pile had b&eacute;ene made to the buriall of a noble <HI>Heroie,</HI> climing vp in huge volumes vppe into the Aire, or if &s;ome great &s;tore of &s;tuble had b&eacute;ene fired, &s;o vehe|mently furious was the flame that no man there (and there were aboue thirty) was able once to draw neare to any part of y^e hou&s;e, the cry was carried into the Citty of this fire, whereuppon the whole towne was a&s;&s;embled with hookes, buckets, ladders, &amp;c. where in vaine they emptied many a large Well, till diuers lear|ned Preachers falling downe &s;ubmi&s;&s;iuely on their kn&eacute;es, with good faith appea&s;ed this &s;&eacute;eming fire which in d&eacute;ede was none, but a m&eacute;ere diabolicall illu&s;ion, then they entred into the hou&s;e, wher they found the Barrels brought a bed and deliuered, the cups, the whole furniture cleane de&s;troyed, broken, and throne about the Hou&s;e, but drawing neare vnto the mo&s;t ruefull and lamentable &s;pectacle of all, comming into the yeard or groue which was mo|ted about and enclo&s;ed with a thicke Wall of tr&eacute;es very exc&eacute;eding high, as Firre tr&eacute;es are, &s;o very thicke that no light was pearce|able into it, in the very mid&s;t whereof was a round plot of &s;ome one hundred foote any way from the Centre, there found they the religious Circles, there the &s;trange Characters, names of An|gels, a thou&s;and Cro&s;&s;es, there founde they the fiue cro&s;&s;e hilted Daggers for the fiue Kings of Hell, there many a &s;trong bul|warke builded with rowes of Cro&s;&s;es, there found they the &s;ur|ple&s;&s;es, the &s;toles, pall, miters, holy water, pots broken, their pe|riapts, &s;eats, &s;ignes of the Angels of the &s;eauen daies, with infi|nite like tra&s;h and damnable roggery, the fruites of the Diuels rancke fan&s;ie. But the mo&s;t lamentable &s;ight of all the &s;eauen Schollers vtterly torne in p&eacute;eces, their bloud hauing chaunged the colour of the ground into a darke Crim&s;on, al their bodies as blacke as any coale as if they had b&eacute;ene &s;corcht with a materiall fire, their fle&s;h violently rent from the bones, and hanging down in mor&s;els like the skirts of a &s;ide coate, their bones all broaken, their vaines cut in &s;under, and their bowels broad &s;hed vppon the earth, their brains powred out and couering the red gra&s;&s;e all o|uer,
<PB REF="23"> their notes &s;timtyed, their eies thru&s;t out, their mouths wide|ned and &s;lit vp to the eares, their t&eacute;eth da&s;ht out, and their tongue &s;tarting out betwixt their gums, their haire cleane &s;inged of, in briefe imagine with your &s;elues in your minds, and propounde a p<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter">cture in your thought, the mo&s;t deformed, borne, and ill fauou|red that you can thinke on, yet &s;hall it not compare to the mo&s;te lachrimable &s;ight and &s;hew of them, &s;urpa&s;&s;ing as much all cre|dite as my skill dewly to de&s;cribe them, whom when they had buried without tarriaunce, raced the hou&s;e to the ground, and fil|led vppe the moates with earth, heaping vppon the place of this murther the &s;tones of the hou&s;e defaced, then they returned home di&s;cour&s;ing with lamentable iudgement vppon the high and &s;e|uere reuenge of Gods indignation vppon them which dur&s;t pre|&s;ume to tempt his glorious Maie&s;ty. And finally vnle&s;&s;e repen|taunce br&eacute;ede a more &s;p&eacute;edy remor&s;e &s;uch is the fatall end of &s;uche proude attempts. And &s;urely this is mo&s;t true, for I my &s;elfe haue &s;&eacute;ene the ground wher the hou&s;e &s;tood, and yet the moates damde vp and the Water breaking throw ths &s;tones euen to this day, there did I &s;&eacute;e a skull and a &s;hancke bone of them not yet rotten: and there did I &s;&eacute;e the huge heape of &s;tones wherewith they are couered, a fearefull example of Gods wrath and iu&s;tice agayn&s;t &s;uch infidell Chri&s;tians.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="11" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. XI.</HEAD>
<P>THe great Turke called <HI>Souldan, Alias Cham,</HI> comprehen|ding as many victories in his &s;worde as &s;ome Emperours in their thoughts arriued at length afore Vienna, hauing made his preamble with the de&s;troying and burning of the countrey before him, thinking vpon the ancient pollitick rule, <HI>Better it is to haue a &s;poyled countrey then a lo&s;t,</HI> with a braue prepared Army of two hundred thou&s;and Saracens, hor&s;e and foote, and &s;o many it is certain he had, becau&s;e they doubted not but ther were 300000 The mighty <HI>Cham</HI> hauing erected his royall Pauilions, and en|trenched him&s;elfe to be&s;iege the noble Vienna, munified his camp with Artillery and d&eacute;epe ditches, and then he &s;ent a Letter of de|&s;taunce vnto the Honorable <HI>Alphon&s;us,</HI> as being principall in his owne Citty, who was enuironed within the wals of the citty expecting the day of battell, for to this entent the &s;tates of Italye
<PB REF="24"> and the Emperour of Germany, with the Dukes of Saxony, Bauaria, and the other Prouinces neare a&s;&s;embled (for now ne|ce&s;&s;ity bred vnity) with a braue company of Souldiers to exter|minate this mon&s;ter out of their confines: vnto the Duke of Au|&s;trich onely (for he had no intelligence of their a&s;&s;embled forces) he directed his Letters with defiance, meaning to conclude his long trauailes with a certaine victory: fearing neither the peril which &s;o many gallant &s;ouldiers throughly re&s;olued might bring, nor that euer God or fortune (as they call it) would once &s;hew him a|ny disfauour, who&s;e onely fauour is onely in &s;hew. Nor yet that the heauens great God would not with &s;euere reuengement cha|&s;ti&s;e the <HI>Leuiathans</HI> in&s;olency and &s;laughter of &s;o many Martirs, rather deferring then forgetting &s;o iu&s;t a puni&s;hment.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="12" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. XII.</HEAD>
<P>ABout this time the Me&s;&s;enger and <HI>Wagner</HI> arriued at Vien|na very late in the night and pa&s;&s;ed through the Turki&s;he Sentinels, and arriuing at the Citty, and for that night they lay at the Purceuants hou&s;e, no &s;ooner had the approaching Sunne &s;ent afore him the mar&s;hals of the morrow light, and a new mor|ning mini&s;tred occa&s;ion of new matter, but vp tho&s;e two aro&s;e &amp; being ready departed for the Courte, and now the day was al|mo&s;t in the greate&s;t beauty, when the Me&s;&s;enger was admitted into the Dukes pre&s;ence, vnto whom he recited what euer was &s;&eacute;ene, and done in that time of his ab&s;ence, (only I forgot to tell you how <HI>Wagner</HI> raged and &s;tormed, and thundered, when <HI>A|kercocke</HI> brought him word of the de&s;truction of his Hou&s;e at Wittenberg as he was in the way to Au&s;tria) wherewith the Duke was wonderfully both delighted and a&s;toni&s;hed. And ha|uing wellcommed <HI>Wagner</HI> very graciou&s;ly and accordingly re|warded, he di&s;mi&s;&s;ed them till further lea&s;ure, commaunding the Purceuant to &s;hew him all the plea&s;ure he mought.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="13" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. XIII.</HEAD>
<P>AFter al the&s;e mo&s;t excellent Princes were come into the coun|&s;ell chamber, the Herrald &s;ounded his trumpet after the Tur|ki&s;he &s;ummons then did all the &s;tates draw into the great Hall, wherin a high Imperiall throne richly ordered with &s;hining cloth
<PB REF="24"> of Gold, euery noble and e&s;tate placed corre&s;pondently to his de|gr&eacute;e, where in pre&s;ence of them all the Herralde was admitted, who comming with his coate of Armes lying vppon his right arme into the bottome of the Hall, made thr&eacute;e obey&s;ances downe with the right kn&eacute;e vnto the ground, with a loud &amp; di&s;tinct voice &s;pake vnto the Duke onely, telling him that his &s;oueraigne and Mai&s;ter <HI>Soultan Alias Chan,</HI> the &s;onne of <HI>Murad Chan,</HI> the &s;on of <HI>Rabeck Chan,</HI> the &s;onne of <HI>Mahomet Chan,</HI> and &s;o vpwards till he came to their great Prophet <HI>Mahomet,</HI> God on the earth, and Emperour of all the Ea&s;t. And then he began to reckon fiue hundred titles, with a long &amp;c.. Vnto th&eacute;e <HI>Alphon&s;us</HI> Arche-Duke of Au&s;trich, and there he declared the whole effectes of his me&s;&s;age, and at la&s;t with a great Brauado ended, and then he did one his gaie coate of Armes expecting their aun&s;were. When as the Duke crauing licence of the Emperour to &s;peake an&s;wered y^e Herrauld in mo&s;t gallant and triumphing tearms, commanding him to &s;ay vnto the proud Turke his mai&s;ter, that ere fiue dayes came about he would trample his victorious horns vnder his f&eacute;et, and ride in triumph vppon his &s;tubborne necke, and that in defe~ce of him&s;elfe and of braue Chri&s;tendome hee woulde l&eacute;e&s;e the vtter|mo&s;t drop of his bloud, &amp; to make it good hee would not be in qui|et till he had met his mai&s;ter in the mid&s;t of the field, and there|with he drew out his &s;word, and all they with him, crying God &amp; Sainct <HI>Michaell</HI> for the right of Chri&s;tendome: then &s;toode vppe the Emperour and auowed all that they had &s;aide afore him, com|maunding moreouer the Herrald to &s;ay to the proude V&s;urper, that &s;&eacute;eing the quarrell would br&eacute;ede great effu&s;ion of bloud, and yet he neuer the nearer, that he a man euery way equall to him|&s;elfe, not onely for the &s;p&eacute;edier aduaunce of his battels, but al&s;o to haue a certaine end to &s;uch an vncertaine enterpri&s;e, hee woulde fight with him body to body, armed at all points after their owne gui&s;e at any time within this fortnight, and Herrald bring mee word (quoth he) that he will &s;o doe, and by my Honor I promi&s;e to giue th&eacute;e for thy tidings 10000. Duckets. Then the Herralde being highly rewarded was di&s;mi&s;&s;ed, and reported their braue aun&s;weres vnto the Turke, with all the great maie&s;ty of the Chri&s;tian Princes, who pre&s;ently went to coun&s;ell together, and &s;o continued till other like nece&s;&s;ary bu&s;ines called them away.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="14" TYPE="chapter">
<PB REF="25">
<HEAD>CHAP. XIIII.</HEAD>
<P>IN this Chapter (Gentlemen) parte of the Dutch coppy was wanting, and the other part &s;o rent that it could not be red, yet by &s;ome circum&s;tances I coniecture that the Duke of Au&s;triche had diuer&s;e and dangerous conflicts with the Turke, yet beeing &s;upported by the Engli&s;he men and other Chri&s;tians, with the help of <HI>Wagner,</HI> who &s;tanding in a high towre to &s;ee the conflicts, cau&s;ed by his Magicke &s;uch a &s;torme to ari&s;e that no man was a|ble to abide, the Turke was &s;til di&s;comfited.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="15" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>The giftes of Wagner to the Duke, and three Diuels retaind for Souldiers to the &s;ame Prince. CHAP. XV.</HEAD>
<P>IN the next morning <HI>VVagner</HI> pre&s;ented him&s;elfe to the Duke in pre&s;ence of all the whole Princes of the Chri&s;tians, whom very graciou&s;ly he entertained as he might for his good &s;eruice, &amp; there in pre&s;ence of them al he de&s;ired the Duke to take at his &s;er|uants hands a &s;mall gift, which hee condi&s;cended vnto, and then <HI>VVagner</HI> cau&s;ed a Che&s;t to be brought in of fine Iron, wrought and inameld with gould and colour mo&s;t curiou&s;ly, then hee ope|ned it and tooke out a whole armour of fine bright &s;t&eacute;ele &s;o light as a common Dublet, but &s;o &s;ubtelly and excellently framed, that it pa&s;&s;ed all compari&s;on of hardne&s;&s;e, there was a Musket &s;hotte at euery p&eacute;ece whereon remained no great notice of a blow, but as of a little touch, plaine without any broider worke or otherwi&s;e carued, but &s;o exc&eacute;eding bright as would well haue dazeled the long beholders eies, a &s;hield of the &s;ame fa&s;hion, made like a tor|toyle &s;hell, a &s;word of the like fine temper, with all the furniture of a &s;ouldier, then tooke he out a Plume which hee had no &s;ooner put into the cre&s;t, but he that &s;toode behinde coulde not &s;&eacute;e no part of his backe, nor he that &s;toode before of his bre&s;t, &s;o that thus it made him inui&s;ible, ther he told him it was fetcht out of the great Turks armory, which they &s;ay was <HI>Mahomets,</HI> but I &s;ay more truely <HI>Alias Chans,</HI> which for him&s;elfe cau&s;ed it to be made, ha|uing called together the mo&s;t excellent Philo&s;ophers and worke|men that were to be found in all his wide Empire. The great rewards the Duke would haue giue~ him for it he refu&s;ed, he was only contented with thankes and fauor. And then might they &s;ee
<PB REF="25"> from the doore of the chamber thr&eacute;e mo&s;t gallaunt men to enter, which were his thr&eacute;e Familiars, whom <HI>VVagner</HI> taking by the hands pre&s;ented vnto the whole a&s;&s;embly of Princes, but more directly to the Duke, a&s;&s;uring them that they were the mo&s;t for|tunate, mo&s;t valiant, &s;trong, hardy, and pui&s;&s;ant men that in the World were to be found, and in d&eacute;ede they &s;&eacute;emed to be as goodly &s;wart men as any eie beheld, he tould their &s;euerall names <HI>Me|pho&s;tophiles</HI> he tearmed <HI>Mamri, Akercocke</HI> he tearmed <HI>Simi|onte, Fau&s;tus</HI> hee called <HI>Don infeligo,</HI> &s;hewing that they were borne in tho&s;e fortunate Ilands, wherein the Poets fained the Ely&s;ian fields to be, ioyning by We&s;t vpon the end of Barbary, being from Vienna to tho&s;e fortunate Ilands 35. degr&eacute;es of lo~|gitude and eight minutes, and 48. degr&eacute;es and 22. minutes from the <HI>Aequator</HI> or <HI>Aequinoctiall,</HI> in latitude not then founde out. So were they mo&s;t graciou&s;ly entertained of all the Nobles, and entertained in the Dukes mo&s;t Honorable pay. <HI>VVagner</HI> &s;aid that they thr&eacute;e left their countrey and &s;ought aduentures, and by chaunce comming this way, I knowing of it by &s;ecrete intelli|gence, met them and certainely a&s;&s;ured of their high valours, thought good to &s;hew them to you, for hee that fir&s;t had &s;poake to them had b&eacute;ene fir&s;t &s;erued, nor cared they whether to &s;erue vs or the Infidell.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="16" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. XVI.</HEAD>
<P><HI>I</HI> Spake before of a challenge made by the Emperour vnto the Turke, which when the Herrald had reported vnto the <HI>Soul|tan</HI> (who certainely was a verye honorable Souldier) but there he vowed to performe it, and to &s;et the Emperours head vppon his highe&s;t pauilion in view of all the Citty. And thereuppon the next day after this skirmi&s;he, he &s;ent the &s;ame Herrald with pur|po&s;e and commandement to declare in excellent gallant tearmes the acceptance of the combate, knowing that it depended vppon his honor to &s;hew his &s;mall feare, in not refu&s;ing &s;o equall a Foe, who&s;e profer proc&eacute;eded from a mo&s;t Honorable re&s;olution: when it was reported vnto the Empepour that the &s;ame Herralde re|turned, he cau&s;ed the Hall to bee adorned with mo&s;t braue furni|ture, his high Chaire of e&s;tate placed, and all about &s;eates for the other Princes. The Emperour hauing &s;eated him&s;elfe, full of
<PB REF="26"> braue thought and gallant hardyhood, expecting the aun&s;were of the enemy in &s;uch &s;ort as it was in very d&eacute;ede. In all braue ma|ner the Herrald in proud phra&s;e vttered the purport of his me&s;|&s;age, reque&s;ting that a peace being concluded on both partes for the &s;pace of thr&eacute;e daies, and fr&eacute;e egre&s;&s;e and regre&s;&s;e for the No|bles on both parties the one to viewe the Campe, the other the Court, and on the third day he would armed in his countrey ma|ner m&eacute;ete him in the li&s;tes, to &s;hew that he neuer refu&s;ed the com|bate of any Chri&s;tian Emperour, albeit he knew his calling far &s;uperior to that of his. So then the me&s;&s;age was accepted, the Herrald had his 10000. Duckets carried to the Turkes campe on hor&s;e, and they in the Citty began to k&eacute;epe fea&s;ts, and enter|tained the Turki&s;h Nobles in exc&eacute;eding brauery, and they theirs in the like without damage or thought of trea&s;on.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="17" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. XVII.</HEAD>
<P>DVring the time of this truce, the&s;e foure companions, <HI>Infe|ligo, Wagner, Mamri, Symionte,</HI> ca&s;t how to abu&s;e the great Turke mo&s;t notably, and <HI>Akercocke</HI> otherwi&s;e called <HI>Symion|te</HI> he would begin fir&s;t, and lead them the dance. Then he leaues them and gets me vp vn&s;&eacute;ene to the Turkes Campe, and in his Campe to his own Pauilion, &amp; &s;o into the place where the great Infidell him&s;elfe &s;ate, he being then gone into the Lauatory, which is a place wherein he thr&eacute;e times a day doth bathe him&s;elf, which by &s;o doing he doth verily bel&eacute;eue that all his &s;innes are re|mitted and wa&s;hed away be they neuer &s;o horrible, diueli&s;he, or wicked, then <HI>Akercocke</HI> or <HI>Symionte,</HI> which y&eacute;e wil, goes inui|&s;ibly into the Lauatory, where the great Villaine was bathing him&s;elfe amonge&s;t thr&eacute;e of his mo&s;t faire Concubines &s;tarke na|ked, &s;wimming as much in their dalliance as in the water, min|gling his wa&s;hing with ki&s;&s;es and his clean&s;ing with voluptu|ou&s;ne&s;&s;e, <HI>Akercock</HI> in the &s;hape of a bright Angell appeares vn|to him, and with a proud <HI>magnifico</HI> pre&s;ented him&s;elfe vnto the &s;laue, who &s;traight waies very reuerently fell downe vppon his kn&eacute;es, and with his hands high lifted vp, wor&s;hipped towardes him in great humility, whil&s;t <HI>Akercocke</HI> with good deuotion fell a boord the Concubines, and there acted them before his face one after another: when he had &s;o done, he takes the greate &s;laue by
<PB REF="26"> the tip of his pickenouant, agd &s;haking him fiercely (who al this while with great dreade and feare lay halfe a&s;toni&s;hed and al na|ked on the ground) told him that hee had prepared a more brauer place for his &s;o good a &s;eruaunt then &s;o ba&s;e a bathe, and no fairer Concubines. (Now the Turke had &s;&eacute;ene how like a lu&s;ty rancke fellow this <HI>Simionte</HI> had behaued him&s;elfe, at which he wonders not greatly, becau&s;e <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> whom he thought to haue b&eacute;en <HI>Ma|homet</HI> (as well as he did thinke <HI>Akercocke</HI>) had al&s;o &s;hewed the vertue of &s;o great a God as <HI>Mahound,</HI> twe~ty times more beauty then <HI>Iupiter.</HI>) Then the Turki&s;h Emperour with halfe dyinge hollow voice, as if his breath had b&eacute;ene almo&s;t gone or el&s;e but now comming, &s;aid that he was all at his commandement, and &s;o followed <HI>Simionte</HI> &s;tarke naked as he was born, who led him by the hand rounde about, and through euery Lane and place of his Campe, to the great wonderment &amp; laughter of his people, who verily thought <HI>Mahound</HI> had commanded him to do penance be|fore he fought with the Chri&s;tian Emperour. But for al this the people fell into &s;uch laughter that &s;ome had welnigh giuen vp the Gho&s;t at the &s;ame in&s;tant, diuers Chri&s;tian Nobles &s;aw him all this while, who effu&s;edly laughed at &s;o apparaunt foolery. The Turke for all this not moued, for ind&eacute;ede hee heard all and &s;awe nothing, went about wonderfully mannerly: like as you &s;hall &s;&eacute;e a Dutch Frow with a handkercheife in her hand mince it after y^e hopping Germane. Could a man deui&s;e a more notorious kinde of abu&s;e, then to make that man which will not bee &s;&eacute;ene but in great &s;ecrecy, and aboundantly and richly clad, to bee not onely &s;&eacute;ene openly but al&s;o &s;tarke naked, &amp; becom their laughing &s;tocks who&s;e terrour he is alwaies, but <HI>Akercocke</HI> had not yet &s;o lefte him, but downe he runs to <HI>Danuby</HI> (where there was readye <HI>Mamri</HI> or <HI>Mepho&s;tophiles</HI> to receiue him) and there hauinge turned him&s;elfe &amp; the vile&s;t part of him&s;elfe to the Turks mouth, making him ki&s;&s;e and ki&s;&s;e it againe, he tooke him and hurld him violently into the Water, and then <HI>Akercocke</HI> vani&s;hed away.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="18" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>The &s;econd mocking. CHAP. XVIII.</HEAD>
<P>NO &s;ooner was he in but he &s;aw then apparantly how h&eacute;e had b&eacute;ene mi&s;-led and abu&s;ed, and there for very &s;hame woulde
<PB REF="27"> haue drownd him&s;elfe in very d&eacute;ede, had not <HI>Mamri</HI> come &s;wiftly flying ouer &amp; gaue him a terrible blowe on the noddle with a good Ba&s;tinado, that he almo&s;t made his braines flye out, and rapte him vp by his long haire out of the water vnto the land, wher he buffeted him &s;o long till at length he came to him&s;elfe againe, the~ <HI>Mamri</HI> fewtred him&s;elf to abu&s;e him kindly, and there with &s;w&eacute;et and compa&s;&s;ionatiue &s;p&eacute;ech comforted him, de&s;iring his reuerend Maie&s;ty not to take any griefe &s;&eacute;eing it was doone in the &s;ight of all his men, in the knowledge of none. And therewith to &s;hew y^e more pitty of his mi&s;ery he &s;&eacute;emed to &s;hed aboundance of teares, de&s;iring him to goe with him and he would put vpon him his &s;oft raiment. The Turke (who then had his crowne vpon his head or el&s;e it had not b&eacute;ene halfe in the right <HI>Qu</HI>) &s;&eacute;eing one lamenting his ca&s;e &s;o affectionatly, condi&s;cended vnto him and promi&s;ed him mo&s;t large honorable promotion and reward. <HI>Mamri</HI> &s;et him v|pon his legs and led him to a little muddy place by the riuer &s;ide, and there varni&s;hed the Emperour ouer with mo&s;t thicke, terri|ble, and excrementall mud, not &s;paring either his face, no&s;e, eies, mouth, nor any thing, whil&s;t he mi&s;erable man thought hee had b&eacute;ene in mo&s;t diuine contentment. Thus he led him in the viewe of fiue thou&s;and people (for here is to bee noted that all that euer &s;aw him both knew him to be the great villain Turke, and could not but laugh mo&s;t entirely at him, nor his owne men could do a|ny other nor once thinke of any re&s;cue or remedy, by the working of infernall in&s;tinct) vntill he came to Vienna, and in Vienna to the mo&s;t faire gates and where greate&s;t re&s;ort of people are al|waies together, there at the Citty gate he drew out a long taber and a pipe and &s;trikt vp &s;uch a merry note, as the fooli&s;h orname~t of all London &s;tages neuer could come neere him, no not when he wakte the writer of the newes out of Purgatory, with the &s;hrill noi&s;e. Ther at the gate &s;tood a Carpenter who was then carrying a Coffin to a certain hou&s;e to bury one in, him <HI>Mepho&s;tophiles</HI> beate till hee laie on the could ground, and tooke the Coffin and cau&s;ed the Turk to hold it in his hand. <HI>Memorandum</HI> that none of all the&s;e Spirites were &s;&eacute;ene of any one, but felt of them which &s;aw them. Then from the gate he began to play, the Turke and the Coffin skipt and turnd, and vaunted, and bounded, and leapt, and heaued, and &s;prung &s;o fa&s;t and &s;o thicke together, that the cof|fin
<PB REF="27" MS="y"> rapping the mi&s;&s;erable man &s;ometime on the &s;hinnes, brea&s;t, thighes, head, face, that the durty colour was almo&s;t wipte a|way with the &s;treames of bloud. At this &s;traunge fight and the vnheard noi&s;e of that kinde of In&s;trument, al the boies, girls, and roags in the town were gathered with this troupe, &amp; this mirth, he conuaied them round about the &s;tr&eacute;ets, and al the way as they went, &s;uch egs, &s;uch chamber pots emptyings, &s;uch excrements, odoure, water, &amp;c. were throwne down on their heads, that it &s;&eacute;e|med all tho&s;e vile matters were re&s;erued for that Tempe&s;t, vntill &s;uch time (then it being about two of the clocke in the afternoone when euery one is bu&s;ied in &s;ome ple&s;aunt pa&s;taunce) as all this faire company came to the Court, whereout at diuer&s;e windows lay the chiefe&s;t of all the Nobility, and the mo&s;t braue Gentlewo|men, who &s;&eacute;eing &s;uch a huge crowd of Boyes, the great Turke and a Coffin dauncing, and a taber and pipe playd vppon, they were almo&s;t ama&s;ed, thus hee marched finely round aboute the whole Court, till comming to the Court gate he entred in, (but the Boyes were excluded) with this merry Morris there in pre|&s;ence of them all the Turke fell downe dead, whom <HI>Mamri</HI> layd in the Coffin, and then vani&s;hed away.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="19" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>The thirde. CHAP. XIX.</HEAD>
<P>THen came <HI>Infeligo</HI> or <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> and touching him reuiued him to the great wonder of the beholders, and couering him &s;ome|what &s;hamefa&s;tly, went into his chamber with him, and there be|notted him round vpon the head and the beard, which is the fow|le&s;t reproch and di&s;grace that can be offered to the Turke, which done he conuaied him into the pre&s;ence of the Emperour, where hee made them &s;uch &s;porte, that vnneath they could recover their mode&s;ty in thr&eacute;e houres &s;pace, to &s;&eacute;e the proud Villaine plai&s;tered ouer with &s;uch muddy morter, all euer his head and face, his eyes and t&eacute;eth &s;hewing like black Moores, or as a paire of eies looking through a Lettice, or as they cal it a Periwig, wherein if the eies had f&eacute;ete they might be &s;et in &s;he &s;tocks: All his lineaments were lineamented with this pariet, he &s;tood quiuering and &s;haking ey|ther for could or feare like an A&s;pine leafe (as they &s;ay) while&s;t e|uery man buffeted him, he &s;tanding with a &s;turg<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter">&s;tice and an old
<PB REF="28"> &s;hooe, as they doe at blind man buffe to &s;&eacute;e who he could hit. Thus long he made them &s;port, till one tolde the Emperour that it was the great Turke, at which he was exc&eacute;eding wroth and &s;orry.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="20" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>The fourth and la&s;t. CHAP. XX.</HEAD>
<P>VVHen <HI>Wagner</HI> &s;&eacute;eing him grieued, came and kn&eacute;eled downe before him, declaring that he would vndertake to heale all his wounds and other gr&eacute;eueances what&s;oeuer, yea &amp; make him vtterly forget al that was pa&s;&s;ed as if it had neuer b&eacute;ene, and pro|mi&s;ed more to carry him home him&s;elfe &s;afe and &s;ound, which the Emperour thanked him highly for, reque&s;ting him to performe it pre&s;ently, for hee would not for halfe his reuenews that his Foe &s;hould haue any occa&s;ion to alledge again&s;t him, for to excu&s;e the Combate. Then went <HI>Wagner</HI> vp into his chamber, and appa|relled him&s;elfe in white tafita made clo&s;e to his bodye, and there where they v&s;e to weare round ho&s;e halfe a foote d&eacute;epe, &s;tuck with &s;wans feathers, like the skirts of a hor&s;mans coat, his ho&s;e, &s;hoos, (for all were together) of the &s;ame white tafita, and within with white leather, at his h&eacute;eles two fine &s;iluer wings, &amp; on his &s;houl|ders two maruailous large bright &s;iluery wings, and on his head an vpright little &s;t&eacute;eple hat (with a white feather of two or thr&eacute;e ranges) of white tafita, and in his hand a <HI>Caduceus</HI> or a <HI>Mercu|riall</HI> Rod in the &s;ame white &s;iluer colour, hee entred into the Pre|&s;ence Chamber afore all the a&s;&s;embly to their &s;ingular contenta|tion, for in his Per&s;onated garments he &s;&eacute;emed to be a very An|gell, for it was in doubt whither <HI>Mercury</HI> was halfe &s;o beautiful or no. And there opening a large ca&s;ement (as there they are very large) with a braue <HI>R'ingratio</HI> departed from them taking vp his flight in the view of them all into the aire, as if hee woulde haue beate the Azure firmament with his wa&s;t wings. Thus he car|ried him lower and lower till he did light vpon a great Elme, and there he opened his &s;ight to &s;&eacute;e in what plight he was. The Turk &s;&eacute;eing in what a traunce he had b&eacute;ene, began to &s;weare, to banne and cur&s;e, and was euen then ready to haue thrown him&s;elf down headlong, but <HI>Mercury</HI> hee &s;tept to him and bad him bee of good ch&eacute;ere, for it had plea&s;ed the great God <HI>Iupiter,</HI> who&s;e &s;eruaunt <HI>Mahomet</HI> was, to &s;hew him tho&s;e great abu&s;es, to the intent he
<PB REF="28"> &s;hould be more wary in his actions, and take h&eacute;ede how to tempt the Chri&s;tians with vaine battels and &s;uch like &s;p&eacute;ech, but nowe (quoth he) come and giue me thy hand, and thern will I lead th&eacute;e to thy Pauilion, where as yet thou art not mi&s;&s;ed of the Nobles, for in the place where thou wa&s;t taken away, hath <HI>Ioue</HI> &s;ent one to beare thy &s;hape. Then againe he tooke his flight &amp; all the way as he went he rapt his h&eacute;els again&s;t the tops of the high tr&eacute;es, and beat him pittifully vppon the &s;hins al the iourney, vpon the tents tops. Now they arriued in the &s;ame place from whence hee was tane. and there he laide him&s;elfe domn who pre&s;ently recouered his former &s;trength in ful perfectne&s;&s;e, and not onely not felt it but vtterly forgat it. Then he continued his wonted &s;olace and pre|pared him&s;elfe to the battaile, while&s;t hee was made a laughinge &s;tocke of the world, <HI>Wagner</HI> returned through y^e &s;ame path which he had made in the aire before, came not yet to the Court before they had done laughing, for there the matter from the beginning to the end was rehear&s;ed.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="21" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>The proce&s;&s;e to the combate. CHAP. XXI.</HEAD>
<P>THe two daies of the truce were pa&s;&s;ed and the third morning was come, in which time many gallaunt feates of armes and actiuity were performed on both parts. Now the time of the com|bate was come. There was in the Riuer of Danuby a pretty I|land of a quarter of a mile long or more, as euen as ground might be all the way, in this place were the li&s;ts prepared, and a &s;caffold richly hanged for the Iudges to determine in. In the euening a|bout foure of the clocke (being then rea&s;onable coole) The Chri|&s;tian Emperour i&s;&s;ued out with aboue 100000. Chri&s;tians, the re&s;t being aboue 60000. were left to defend the Citty (for both the Chri&s;tian and e&s;pecially the Turkes were increa&s;ed) wher he entred into the wide plaine, and comming to the bancks &s;ide hee entred into a broad Ferry boate leauing his whole Armye on the other &s;ide of the Riuer while&s;t he laboured to attain to the Iland. The Duke of Au&s;tria with his attendants <HI>Mamri, Simionte, Infeligo,</HI> and <HI>Wagner,</HI> the Dukes of Clebe, Saxony, Campany, and Brabant, with the like number all brauelye and gloriou&s;ly mounted: The Duke of Au&s;tria in his bright armour mar&s;halled
<PB REF="29" MS="y"> the field, and of the Chri&s;tian &s;ate as Iudges the kings of Lu&s;ci|tany and Arragon with their Herralds: Now the Emperour is landed in the I&s;land and is mounted into his rich &s;addle, armed in armour &s;o co&s;tly, &s;trong, curious, and re&s;plende&s;cent, that it &s;e|med al the beauty in the world had b&eacute;ene gathered together in it, his cour&s;er &s;o firme, nimbly ioynted, tall and large, &s;uch a one might haue b&eacute;ene the &s;on of <HI>Gargantuas</HI> more for his Giant-like proportion. Then tooke he his &s;trong and large A&s;ken lance, bea|ring in his &s;t&eacute;ele head Iron death, at the top whereof hung a fair and rich pennion, the whole &s;haft of the &s;peare double g lded ouer and curiou&s;ly enameld, about his necke hung his horne &s;hield, ar|tificially adorned with his owne atchieuement, the belt whereon his &s;word hung of beaten gold, his capari&s;on of pure cloth of gold, whereon the rich &s;tones were &s;o ordinary that they tooke away y^e glittering of the mettall onely as if it had b&eacute;ene the Sun beames, trailed along betwixt precious gutters. On his helmet was fixed a rich Crown of the mo&s;t excellent mettall. In briefe for I would faine haue made an end of this idle newes, there was all the rich|nes in his Empire in that all the beauty of his richnes, in them al y^e de&s;ire of each eie: when he had &s;aluted y^e iudges he trotted twice or thri&s;e about the li&s;ts, and then lighted at his Pauilion which was there erected of cloth of gold, where he &s;ate with conuenient company and refre&s;hed him&s;elfe. Now in the meane the Turke he &s;et forward with an army double the chri&s;tian, and 100000. and aboue &s;till left in the Campe. And here I mu&s;t n&eacute;edes leaue to tell you of his exc&eacute;eding preparation vnle&s;&s;e I &s;houlde make a whole volume, for be&s;ide the wondrous furniture of his Souldi|ers, the mo&s;t rare choi&s;e of ornaments, there was nothing could be deui&s;ed, nay more then of &s;et purpo&s;e could be deui&s;ed was ther. But briefely I will turne to the Turke him&s;elfe, where if I had art according, I &s;hould &s;ooner weary you with delight the~ words: But 100000. of his men hauing marched before to the banckes and there embatteled them&s;elues by the riuer all along, with &s;uch hideous noi&s;e of Trumpets horns (for &s;o they v&s;e) drums of bras, fluites &amp;c. that there was more heard then &s;&eacute;ene by farre, then a|proached the great Turke him&s;elfe, before him rode 4000. <HI>Ia|ni&s;&s;aries</HI> armed in their fa&s;hion, with a long Gowne of Scarlet red laced with gold lace, &amp; long &s;l&eacute;eues of a verye narrow bredth,
<PB REF="29"> which was girt clo&s;e vnto him, vnder that a good armour, with a long high cap like a milke pale for all the world, of white Satten or &s;ome &s;uch like gear, with a long feather enough to come down to a tall mans hams, very thick laced in the brims with gold and pearle, in his hand a &s;hort Iauelin, at his &s;ide his Cemiter, at his backe a great Quiuer of broad arrowes, and by a &s;tring of &s;ilke hung his &s;t&eacute;ele bow, ouer euery 100. of the&s;e is a <HI>Boluch Ba&s;&s;a</HI> a Centurien as we call him, and the&s;e be of the Turks guard, and are called <HI>Solaquis Archers,</HI> and they rode fifty in a rancke, then came following the about 200. <HI>Peicher</HI> or <HI>Peiclers,</HI> all in one liuery of very rich ti&s;&s;ue after their fa&s;hion, and the&s;e are of the Turkes <HI>Laqueis</HI> which haue a &s;harpe t&eacute;ene Hatchet &s;ticking at their girdels, and the ha&s;t of Bra&s;ill, with this they will &s;tande 30. paces off and cleaue a penny loafe or hit it &s;ome where, they will commonly &s;ticke an inche and halfe d&eacute;ep into a very tuffe A|&s;hen wood, or a Bra&s;ill, or &s;uch like hard wood: there in great tri|umph vppon an Elephant richly trapped, &s;tood a Towre of two yardes and a halfe high of pure &s;iluer, in the top whereof &s;tood an Image of beaten gold, repre&s;enting their <HI>Mahomet,</HI> rounde a|bout which vpon Mules <HI>Azamoglans</HI> or <HI>Iamoglans,</HI> who are children of tribute exacted vpon the Chri&s;tian captiues, and con|tributary, fine, &s;w&eacute;ete, and the mo&s;t choi&s;e picked Gentlemen brought vp to &s;undry dainty qualities, who with heauenly melo|dy followed this Elephant, the religious men going round about &s;inging &s;w&eacute;etely together: afore all the&s;e next to the <HI>Iani&s;&s;aries</HI> went aboue 200. Trumpets, and as many followed the greate Turke, who then approached, hauing his Chariot of pure &s;iluer of aboue 20000. pound weight, drawne with eight milke white Elephants, round about rode and went bare headed, <HI>Azamog|lans Peyclers</HI> mo&s;t gorgeou&s;ly and re&s;plende&s;cent appareled, vn|der the Turkes f&eacute;ete lay a pillow of cleare Chri&s;tall embo&s;&s;ed at the ends with huge golden knobs, on his head a wreath of purple with a mo&s;t rich diadem as it is comely knowen the order of it, the &s;tage can &s;hew the making of it, but other thinges they differ mightely in. Here you mu&s;t &s;uppo&s;e the exc&eacute;eding glory of his ap|parell, there he &s;ate vpright in the Chaire with &s;uch a maie&s;tical, proud, &s;euere, warlike countenaunce, as iu&s;tly became &s;o high a throne, before him went <HI>Aga</HI> which is the great Captaine of his
<PB REF="30"> <HI>Ianizaries,</HI> with the <HI>Hali Ba&s;&s;a,</HI> the Captaine of his nauall ex|peditions, <HI>Bianco Ba&s;&s;a</HI> the Captaine of his <HI>Iani&s;&s;arie</HI> Harque|bu&s;hiers, the <HI>Zanfyretto Ba&s;&s;a</HI> captaine of his guard, with other of great authority bare headed. After his Chariot came &s;w&eacute;ete melody, and then fiue Elephants of War (an Elephant is wel|nigh as big as &s;ixe Oxen gant and &s;lender like a hor&s;e in y^e franks, and of more &s;wift foote then a man would thinke for, his fa&s;hion is like no bea&s;t in England, but the ridge of his backe is like that of an bor&s;e, his f&eacute;ete hath fiue great horny toes, and a very longe &s;noute of aboue two yards in length, with which he will draw by onely &s;nuffing vp a good pretty big lad, and deliuer him to the Ri|der this long trunck fals downe betwixt a large paire of teeth or tu&s;hes of aboue an Ell and a halfe long (as yee may commonlye &s;&eacute;e at the Combe makers in London) bending like a Bores vp|ward, his eares welnigh from the top to the neither tippe of the hanging downe aboue &s;euen foote long.) And after the&s;e fiue E|lephants, &s;adled and ordered for a man to ride on, came tru~pets, and all in the like manner as before, and then marched 500. in a ranke, 100000. footmen, and by their &s;ides for wings 40000. hor&s;emen, &s;o that he came to the combate with 240000. fighting men, well accompli&s;hed in armes: then was the great Turke carried vnder a goodly canapy vpon a blacke Waggon on mens &s;houlders into the Ferry, which was richly prepared, where in the view of both Campes he landed, while&s;t the warlike in&s;tru|ments ecchoed wide in the Aire. In the I&s;land for Iudges &s;at (in armour as did the other) the king of Rhods and the king of Pam|philia, now called <HI>Alcayr.</HI> When the Turke was landed there was brought to him by the hands of two kings a gret Elephant of an A&s;he colour white embo&s;&s;ed very glittringly, where on the great Turke mounted by a &s;hort ladder of &s;iluer, armed verye &s;trongly and mo&s;t beautifully, then tooke hee his Iauelin in his hand, and vibrated it in great brauery (as hee coulde handle his weapon well) and hung his quiuer of long Dartes at his backe, then his cemiter &amp;c. and &s;o hauing &s;aluted the Iudges retirde vn|to the vttermo&s;t part of the field, then mounted vp the braue and pui&s;&s;ant Emperour &s;o lightly in his heauy armour, as if eyther his gladne&s;&s;e had le&s;&s;ened his waight, or the goodnes of his cau&s;e, to the great reioy&s;ing of the Chri&s;tian and amazement of y^e turk,
<PB REF="30"> at whome the Chri&s;tians yeld &s;o vniuer&s;allye and hallowed, and other infinit kinds of glad&s;ome tokens that the Turke a&s;toni&s;h|ed &s;tood &s;tone &s;till till the Chri&s;tian had done, &amp; then as men new ri&s;en to life, with &s;uch an horrible &s;hout, that their voice reboun|ded to the aire, at which &s;ame time the Chri&s;tian &s;houted againe with them, as if they would haue committed a battell with voi|ces, and &s;urely their voices did fight in the wide coa&s;ts &amp; &s;hoares of the aire. This done the Emperours prepared them&s;elues to the fight.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="22" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>The Combate, CHAP. XXII.</HEAD>
<P>ANd when they were &s;worne that neither of them had any ma|gicke hearbe, charme or incantation wherby they might pre|uaile in their fight on their aduer&s;ary, and had &s;olemnized the ac|cu&s;tomable ceremonies in like matters of combat. The Herralds gaue their words of encounter, then with loude voice and &s;hrill Trumpets couragious bla&s;t, while&s;t all the people were in dead night expecting the demeanour of the&s;e renowmed Princes. Now we haue brought you to behold the&s;e two champions, arriued thi|ther with their braue followers, ready to proue their valiaunce in the face of &s;o great a multitude. Now if you will &s;tand a&s;ide lea&s;te their ragged &s;peares endamage you, I will giue you leaue to look through the Lattice, where you &s;hall euen now &s;&eacute;e the two Em|perours with their braue &s;hocke, pre&s;&s;e Doubt betwixt their cru|ell encountrings. Now you may &s;&eacute;e the two combattants, or but as yet champions, comming from the ends of the field, the excel|lent Chri&s;tian Emperour with incomparable valour, vi&s;iting his Hor&s;e &s;ides with his &s;purs, carrying his &s;peare in the re&s;t with an euen leuell, &s;o that the thundering of the braue St&eacute;ede pre&s;aged y^e dint of the great thunderclap. When <HI>Ali Chan,</HI> gently galloping with his huge bea&s;t came forward with more &s;wift pace &s;till as he drew nearer to the Emperour. All this while you may behold the~ ha&s;tening in their cour&s;e, like as you &s;&eacute;e two great waues gallop|ping from the corners of the &s;ea driuen by contrary windes, mee|ting together by long randome, to make the neighbours &s;hoares to quake and dimbde with their boy&s;terous carrier. The Empe|rour being now with his greate&s;t fury ready to fa&s;ten his launce vppon his aduer&s;ary, and his aduer&s;ary ready to fa&s;ten his Iaue|lin
<PB REF="31"> on him, when the Turke &s;uddainely &s;tept a&s;ide, and the Em|perour thru&s;ted his voide launce into the Aire, (for he mought ea|&s;ely do it, for though the Elephant be but low, yet he was higher then his hor&s;e by a yard, and yet his hor&s;e was the faire&s;t and tal|le&s;t to be found in all Chri&s;tendome, &s;o that n&eacute;edes hee mu&s;t laye his &s;peare in an vneuen height to breake it on him. Sodainely y^e Turke &s;topt and with his nimble Bea&s;t followed the Emperour as he had fled, whereat all the whole army of Turkes &s;howted horribly clapping their hands, &amp; the Chri&s;tian &s;tood &s;till in great &s;ilence, &s;troken with iu&s;t wonder of this &s;trange <HI>Quidity</HI> in com|bate, and ere the Emperour could make his &s;toppe with a &s;horte turne, the Turke had hit him vpon the &s;houlder with his Iaue|lin, which being denide entraunce, for very anger rent it &s;elfe in forty p&eacute;eces, and chid in the Aire till they broake their neckes on the ground: and had not then the Hor&s;e &s;tarted the mon&s;trous E|lephant had ouerthrowne him with his rider to the earth. But then the Hor&s;e incen&s;t with ire for this iniury, and his mai&s;ter more hotely burning with di&s;daine and furious gall, leapt, boun|ded, and &s;ent out at his mouth the fomy arguments of his better &s;tomacke, but &s;o fa&s;t the vile Turk followed that he had &s;pent 3. long Darts vpon the barbed flanckes of the Hor&s;e, which all in vaine returned to their Mai&s;ter. The beholding Turkes &s;o eger|ly pur&s;uing the &s;troaks with &s;houting, as if with a hidden <HI>Sym|pathy</HI> their trayning had augmented the violence of the blowes. At le~gth the good Emperour &s;orely a&s;hamed came now to make him amends for his pretty fal&s;ery: and with great &s;cope throng|ing his lance forward iu&s;t vpward vppon the Turkes face, and when he was almo&s;t by him, the Infidel as if he but made a &s;port of the fight, &s;tept a&s;ide very deliuery, thinking that he &s;hould haue made him run in the like order as before, but hee more cautelous marking of purpo&s;e which way he ment to decline, turned with him and his learned Hor&s;e could well doe it, and ind&eacute;ede de&s;ire of reuenge had &s;o &s;eated it &s;elfe in his braue couragious brea&s;t, that now he euen followed him as he had b&eacute;ene drawne with Cart|ropes, the Turke &s;&eacute;eing how he was circumuented, fetcht a pre|ty compa&s;&s;e and troad a round, the Elephant flying from y^e hor&s;e and the hor&s;e following the Elephant, as you might &s;&eacute;e <HI>Seignior Prop&s;pero</HI> lead the way in <HI>Mile end Greene</HI> in the ringles, this
<PB REF="31"> was a pretty &s;port to &s;&eacute;e the matter turnd to a play. Nowe the Chri&s;tians hauing like occa&s;ion to &s;hew their gladnes, gaue &s;uch an <HI>Applaudite</HI> as neuer was heard in any Theater, laughinge &s;o effu&s;edly that they da&s;ht their aduer&s;aries cleane out of counte|nance, tickling againe with the long loud laughter: When they had run not pa&s;&s;ing twice about, the Turke &s;&eacute;eing his time, con|uaied him&s;elfe out of the ring, and then got againe on his backe, &s;pending his cowardly Darts vppon his &s;trong enemies armor, and &s;o fa&s;t he followed and &s;o quickely the good Emperour turned backe againe, that his hor&s;es barbe of St&eacute;ele out &s;tickinge in his front, met iu&s;t vppon the out &s;ide of the right eye of the Elepha~t, that it &s;ticking out a foote entred in aboue an inche, which y^e hor&s;e perceiuing made the re&s;t follow into his head vp to the hiltes (as to &s;ay) laying out his fore f&eacute;ete out &s;traight, and his hinder legs in like manner, went poaking, and crowded him&s;elfe forewarde &s;till gathering vppon the Elephant, &s;o that not &s;o much with the Hor&s;es force as the great bea&s;ts cruell pain, the Elephant &s;waid backe aboue 100. foote. Now was the Emperour glad and with both his hands lifting him&s;elfe vppon his &s;tirrops, tooke his lance and &s;troake with the point the Turke full on the vi&s;ard &s;o thicke and &s;o many times, that &s;ome bloud followed, with an hue and cry out of the windowes of the Helmet, to find the worker of his effu&s;ion: till the villaine &s;laue drawing his fine &s;word &s;moate the launce very brauely in two, and ca&s;ting his &s;hield afore him, re|ceiued the la&s;t &s;troake on the truncheon of it, which the gentle Emperour with fell fury threw at him, that he made him decline almo&s;t to the fall. The Turke &s;itting on the Elephants backe could not with his Semiter reach the Chri&s;tian, nor he the Turk with his Curtilax, &s;o that now they &s;ate and lookte one vpon the other, and the people at them, and all at this &s;traunge copeing. The good Hor&s;e <HI>Grauntier</HI> by chaunce being gored a little vnder the maine betwixt the bendings of the barbs with the &s;harp tusk of the Elephant, neied with great &s;tomacke, and lea&s;inge from the bea&s;t which he had welnigh forced to the li&s;ts end, being ther|to forwarded with the &s;harpe &s;purs with &s;o exc&eacute;eding fury, that it was not onely a maruell how the good Prince could &s;it him &s;o a&s;|&s;uredly, and al&s;o that he &s;poild not him&s;elfe, and with more eager fury began to gallop vppon the Elephant again, his mouth wide
<PB REF="32"> open, and horrible with the &s;alt fume which in aboundance i&s;&s;ued from his great heart: for by how much the more a thing is gentle and quiet, by &s;o much the more being moued he is iracund &amp; im|placable. But the Emperor turning his rayns carried him clean contrary to the li&s;ts end, where &s;tood launces for the &s;ame purpo&s;e as the manner is, of which he choo&s;e the two &s;tiffe&s;t, longe&s;t, and rude&s;t for their &s;tature and came &s;oftly pacing to the Turke: who &s;toode euen there &s;till where hee was the Elephant bl&eacute;edinge in &s;unch abou~dance, that by the lo&s;&s;e of &s;o much bloud his m&eacute;ekenes turnd into rage, and began to ri&s;e and bray, and &s;tamp, and with an vncertaine &s;way to moue, &s;o that with much adoe the Slaue &s;taied and appea&s;ed him, then the braue Emperour lifting vp his vi&s;our not onely to take breath but the more fr&eacute;ely that his &s;p&eacute;ech might haue pa&s;&s;age, he told the Turke that he had in a ba&s;e cow|ardly manner by fal&s;e fraud and vnequall fight di&s;honored him|&s;elfe and endangerd him, for which he told him <HI>Malgrado &s;uo</HI> he would be gloriou&s;ly reuenged: and now that they had &s;pent a good time in vncertaine Fortune, hee had brought two launces choo&s;e which he would, and either begin the fight a new or make an end of the old, promi&s;ing vppon his Honor that if he refu&s;ed &s;o to doe, he would fa&s;ten one in his bea&s;t and another in his heart. And if hee dared to doe that, hee bad him come downe on foote and there breake a &s;taffe with him. The Turke as he was an Honorable &s;ouldier then pre&s;ently &s;lipt of his Elephant, brauely an&s;wering that hee came to conquer him in &s;port, and not meaning to make a purpo&s;ed battaile, but &s;ith hee was &s;o pre&s;umptuous as to dare him to his face, he &s;hould &s;oone perceiue how lightly he wayed his proud words, and then skipping to him &s;traight a Launce out of his hand, and went 100. paces backewards, &s;o did the Emperor very ioyfully, when they were come &s;o far as they thought, they might tru&s;t to their breath, houlding their Launces in both their hands, began to run very &s;wiftly, and de&s;ire brought them toge|ther &s;o fa&s;t and outragiou&s;ly, that their Lauces &s;omwhat too ma|lapert not &s;uffering the~ to come together hurld the Turke aboue &s;euen f&eacute;ete of the Lances length, &s;o that not one there but thought he had b&eacute;ene either &s;laine, or his winde da&s;ht out of his belly: the Prince r&eacute;eld backeward aboue two paces and yet fel down much a&s;toni&s;hed. The people on both &s;ides exc&eacute;edingly amazed and af|frighted,
<PB REF="32"> e&s;peciallye the Turkes who &s;ent out &s;uch a dolefull <HI>Sa|untus</HI> that it would haue moued the &s;tones to ruth, but the dolor of the Chri&s;tian was not &s;o great for the mouing of the Emperor reuiued their &s;pirites much. In a cau&s;e on which the behoulders &s;afeties doe depend the ill &s;ucce&s;&s;e is much feared, for it maye bee &s;&eacute;ene by this, that they wil with a certaine alacrity and Sympa|thy &s;&eacute;eme to helpe or to pitty as the cau&s;e requires. On a &s;oddain the Emperour lift vp his head, at which the Chri&s;tians gaue &s;uch an vniuer&s;all &s;houte, as if euen nowe they would paue frayed the mountaines adiacent. The two couragious bea&s;ts hauing lately heaped vp red hote rancor in their di&s;dainefull &s;tomackes, a&s;&s;aul|ted the one the other with all the weapons of nature, that it had b&eacute;ene enough for to haue delighted anye one, but the Hor&s;e had &s;ome &s;mall aduantage by rea&s;on of the Elephants right eye was couered with the trayling downe of the bloude. By this time the Emperours ro&s;e againe, and the one went to his Hor&s;e the other to his Elephant, hauing fir&s;t &s;plintered their &s;peares, and fenced &s;o long as any vertue remained in the &s;laughtered Launces. When each had gotten to their bea&s;ts they beganne to forwarde them, who with equall ire moued n&eacute;eded no encouragement, the~ did the Emperour comming with ful &s;cope vpon the Turk, &s;moat the Elephant iu&s;t vppon one of the t&eacute;eth, while with greate rage the Hor&s;e had fa&s;tned his pike again in the Iaw bone, &s;o that the Elephant &s;till &s;wayed backe, but neither of them being able to reach the one the other, the excellent Prince ca&s;ting his goulden &s;hield before him and drawing his glittering Curtelax, leapt vp|pon the necke of his Hor&s;e, and laying one hande vppon the one tooth of the Elephant, with the other hand vpon the thong, that went cro&s;&s;e his forehead, vauted vp and &s;etling his f&eacute;ete vpon the tuskes and his hand on the head of the bea&s;t, ca&s;t vp him&s;elfe, and laide his &s;itting place where his hands were, and there rode by li|tle and a little till he might buckle with the in&s;edent. No &s;ooner came he within the reach of the Turke, but hee &s;mote the Turke &s;o fr&eacute;ely, who was ready prepared for him that hee made him de|cline a little, there they fought &s;o long that the Elephant driuen through paine was thru&s;t vp to the li&s;ts, hereupon all the people Chri&s;tian in a more fr&eacute;e manner then euer at any time before, all the while their hard mettald &s;wordes plaied vppon eache others
<PB REF="33"> &s;hield, &s;o that the glory of their rare fight was &s;o wonderfullye plea&s;ing to the eie, and &s;o honorable to the combattants, that if they had te&s;ted one would well haue b&eacute;ene contented to viewe all the long day: but the good Prince was too hard for the other, for with his ready blowes he vrged the great Slaue out of his cell, &amp; made him &s;it behinde the ar&s;onne of the &s;addle, and if this chance had not happened he had &s;urely made him &s;it behinde the ar&s;onne of his Elephantes Taile. For as &s;oone as the Elephant had but touched the li&s;ts, the Chri&s;tian Mar&s;hals of the field came gallo|ping and parted the Combattants, holding the Turke as van|qui&s;hed, while&s;t betwixt the contrary and aduer&s;e part ther was foure <HI>Negatiues,</HI> &s;o that welnigh they had fallen to blowes, for y^e ca&s;e &s;&eacute;emed to the Chri&s;tian plaine, to the Turke vniu&s;t. That becau&s;e the Bea&s;t whereon he rode went to the Li&s;ts end, there|fore the &s;topper &s;hould be blamed. Well, Herraldes who&s;e office it is to deale in &s;uch royall matters, had the di&s;cu&s;&s;ing of it, and it was deferred to arbiters, with this condition, that if the Turke was found vanqui&s;hed, he &s;hould be y&eacute;elded as recreant (&amp; mi&s;|creant he was.) So the matter was po&s;ted of while&s;t it neuer was concluded, and both the parties departed, the one to y^e camp the other to the citty, in no le&s;&s;e &s;olemne pompe then they entred accompanied into the &s;ands, where &s;o rare a chaunce fortuned betwixt &s;o pui&s;&s;aunt Emperours. And becau&s;e the matter was as &s;trange as trew, I haue &s;oiourned a little too long in it. But in the next Inne you &s;hall haue a better refre&s;hment or a newer choi&s;e.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="23" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. XXIII.</HEAD>
<P>BY chaunce a Knight &s;moate <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> a boxe on the eare in the pre&s;ence of a great company of braue Ladies, wherefore hee &s;wore to be egregiou&s;ly reuenged on him, giuing him the Field, which the knight refu&s;ed not, &s;o the weapons, the place, the time were ordained, and <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> went out to the field, and no &s;ooner was <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> gone out of the pre&s;ence but <HI>Signior di Mede&s;imo</HI> who was well knowen to be a valorous and couragious man in his kinde as any was about the Court, on a &s;oddaine fell downe on his kn&eacute;es before all the Ladies, &s;haking and quiuering with a face as pall as him which was new ri&s;en from a moneths bu|rying,
<PB REF="33"> de&s;iring them if euer they tendred any Gentlemans ca&s;e, to intreate <HI>Moun&s;ier Infeligo</HI> to forgiue him his tre&s;pa&s;&s;e. At this the whole a&s;&s;embly bur&s;t out into a lowd laughter, to &s;&eacute;e the man that was euen now in his braue tearmes &amp; vanting words to come in all &s;ubmi&s;&s;iue manner to intreate for a pardon &s;o ridi|culou&s;ly. He yet not de&s;i&s;ting with many a &s;alt teare and handes lifted vp toward the Heauens, from whence his pitty came, whe~ <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> came blowing in like a&s;wa&s;h-buckler with his Rapier by his &s;ide and his hand on his Poynard, &s;wearing all the cro&s;&s;e row ouer. But when he &s;aw the Knight in &s;uch a pickell, he &s;atte him&s;elfe again&s;t a wall and laught &s;o loude and &s;o heartely, that all the whole rout could not choo&s;e, but laughe with him, and here was laughing, and here and ther and euery where. At length 2. Ladies ro&s;e to whom perhaps this knight owed &s;ome particular &s;eruice, and de&s;ired <HI>Don Infeligo</HI> with very milde &s;ermon to bee friends with <HI>Mede&s;imo</HI> again, he told them that they could not demaund the thing which he would not readily fulfill, marry he reque&s;ted this, that as the di&s;grace which hee had receiued was too great to bee forgotten without &s;ome &s;uch equall reuenge, that he might v&s;e &s;ome like iniury, whereby he might be &s;atisfied and he might againe come into his grace: which they graunted. <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> came to <HI>Mede&s;imo</HI> and reard him vp vppon his f&eacute;ete, &amp; then got vppon his baccke, and &s;o rid twice about the Chamber, and when he had done he tooke him by the chin, who had not yet forgotten how to w&eacute;epe, &s;haking wor&s;e then any &s;choole boy whe~ he feares to clime the hor&s;e, and gaue him a good boxe on the eare and went his way. So the Knight was vtterly di&s;graced, and for &s;hame dur&s;t not be &s;&eacute;ene all that day after. They which were ther had &s;port aboundance, and <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> was feared for his braue valour and with his continuall delight in knauerye got him foes enough to.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="24" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. XXIIII.</HEAD>
<P>ANother time he by chaunce ouer hearde a Gentleman which was talking to a Lady, and &s;ayde that what&s;oeuer &s;h&eacute;e com|maunded him to doe hee woulde doe it, if &s;h&eacute;e would graunt him grace. The Gentlewoman belike willing to heare him &s;peake, &s;o not to her required him to build in that place with one worde a
<PB REF="34"> Ca&s;tle of fine &s;iluer, at which the Gentleman amazed went a|way confounded, <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> followed him fa&s;t, and &s;ayd to him that he had ouer heard the Ladies vniu&s;t demand, wherefore goe &s;ay (quoth he) thou wilt doe it with one word. And &s;o the Gentleman did and it was done, whil&s;t he ran laughing in to many nobles &amp; lu&s;ty gallants, telling them he would &s;hew them the &s;traunge&s;t thing that euer they &s;awe, &amp; all they came running into the gar|den together, where they founde the Gentleman fa&s;t lockte in a paire of &s;tockes, &amp; an vgly fowle kitchin wench in his armes. O Lord what wondrous &s;port did he make them there. And when they had laughed their fill, he lew&s;d the gallaunt, who went and &s;wore all that he could he would bee reuenged on him. In &s;uch mon&s;trous intollerable knaueries <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> tooke e&s;pecial felicity.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="25" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. XXV.</HEAD>
<P>THe&s;e foure hone&s;t fellowes <HI>Fau&s;tus, Akercock, Mepho&s;to|philes,</HI> and <HI>Wagner</HI> went out together into the &s;tr&eacute;ete, and walking there by chaunce e&s;pied foure Gentlewomen &s;eeming to be &s;i&s;ters, them they ca&s;t to abu&s;e, and they were neuer content to play any merry pranckes for hone&s;t &s;port, but they mu&s;t be &s;o &s;a|tirically full of gall, that they commonly proued infamous, &s;pa|ring neither their good name on whom they committed them nor any kind of villany, &s;o it might procure mirth: when they had tal|ked &s;ufficiently with them, they did &s;o much that they were con|tented to ride abroad with them, and &s;o each fetched his hor&s;e and came to them masked, &amp; the Gentlewomen were wimpled like|wi&s;e (for the men as well as women v&s;e there to were maskes.) Thus they rode to the co~mon furlong where many Italian gen|tlemen were playing at the <HI>Baloun,</HI> and there they rode round a|bout whole armies of &s;houts accompanyng them, they riding &s;til backward and forward, whil&s;t the&s;e men women had &s;owed their coats to their dublets, and pind vpon their backes thinges of vile reproch among&s;t them, then rode they to the Court not yet &s;ati&s;|fied, wher they were entertained with more merriment &amp; laugh|ter. And when the&s;e men-women &s;aw the greate&s;t multitude that was there likely to be, euen vppon a p&eacute;ece of grounde which was higher then all the re&s;t, they leapt down, &amp; by rea&s;on of the friend|&s;hip betwixt their peticoats and their doublets, they haled them al
<PB REF="34"> downe one after another, the hor&s;es ran away, and they lay vpon them to their great confu&s;ion &amp; reproch, yet they thought al well &s;ith they were per&s;onated and masked, but the women &s;tripte off their womens garmentes and their head attires, and there they were well knowen to be foure braue noble yong Gentlemen bre|thren, and ech of them rent off the maskes of <HI>Meph.</HI> &amp; his mates, and detected them to their gret &s;hame, who neither dur&s;t reuenge them&s;elues for feare of further di&s;plea&s;ure, nor of reuealing what they were, nor could be moaned of any one for their notable abu|&s;es afore hand, &s;o that where as in others it had b&eacute;ene but a com|mon ie&s;t, on them it was wonderfull &s;trange and ridiculous. So they with &s;hame enough went fretting in vaine to their lodging.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="26" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. XXVI.</HEAD>
<P>THe Emperor being &s;ome 5. or 6. daies in re&s;t within his wals mu&s;ed as floath cannot dwell in true noble brea&s;ts, the whole Army to &s;et forward, leauing a conuenient Garri&s;on within the Citty of 30000. men, marched into the fields in &s;undry embat|tails with aboue 130000. men. And there in the view of the Ar|my <HI>Meph. Aker. Wag. Fau.</HI> prickt vp to the Turkes campe, ar|med in compleat harnes, and there challenged any foure to break a &s;taffe with them, then came their forth four <HI>Iani&s;&s;aries</HI> hore&s;eme~ armed at all a&s;&s;aies, and there they ran altogether to the &s;ingular delight of the beholders, &s;o gallantly they demeaned them&s;elues, but in the cope all the 4. <HI>Iani&s;&s;aries</HI> were runne quite throw, and throw (as they &s;ay) &amp; there lay on the could earth, then made the&s;e 4. fellowes in Arms their &s;top and expected a fre&s;h reuenge: which came immediatly thundering out of the entry of the Campe, with whom to occur in time they met with the like &s;ucce&s;&s;e as before, to their &s;ingular commendations &amp; high prai&s;es: then gan the Turk to &s;tampe and fret, and commanded foure of the be&s;t in his whole campe, and foure more with them to run at the&s;e villaines and to captiue them, where they &s;hould rue the ra&s;hnes of their pre&s;ump|tion with long eternall torment. The&s;e 8. came with all their po|wer together &amp; broake their lances very hardly vpon their faces, and &s;o did they 4. on theirs, then they drew their &s;words commit|ting a braue turnay, till two of the Turks were &s;laine, and the 6. fled, which were immediatly hanged, at which y^e chri&s;tia~ laughed
<PB REF="35"> heartely, and the&s;e four returned thanked highly, and for that the Enemy would not aduance him&s;elfe to the generall Fortune of the fight, they marched in againe into the Citty.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="27" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. XXVII.</HEAD>
<P>ABout 2. a clocke in the night the Turke approached with all his whole army vnto the wals of the citty, cau&s;ing particular bands and Pyoners to dig through the countermure, the Senti|nels which were on the wals priuily e&s;pying by rea&s;on the Moon gaue &s;ome &s;lender lighte, though &s;h&eacute;e was but thr&eacute;e dayes olde, gaue warning without any alarme to the chiefe commaunders. &s;o that the whole power of the Cittye almo&s;t was gathered into Armes, without any &s;troake of the Drum. The place wherein the turke was entring, was right again&s;t a &s;tr&eacute;ets end of aboue two yards ouer and not aboue thirty yards from the breach, they had digged a d&eacute;ep trench and placed on the &s;carfe nine double ca|nons throughly round and charged with chaine and murderinge &s;hot, and on each &s;ide of the cro&s;&s;e &s;tr&eacute;ete they had erected fortes of grauell &amp;c. like our Barricadoes now, in each of which they placed aboue fift&eacute;ene Culuerin and Cannon. Now the brech be|ing &s;ufficient the Turke hauing entred aboue 2000. men gaue y^e on&s;et, and &s;ounded the bloudy alarm, when &s;odainely the Flanc|kers di&s;charged and the bulwarkes &s;hot fr&eacute;ely together, and vt|terly cut of all them that entred beyond the ditch, &amp; betwixt tho&s;e thr&eacute;e mentioned Forts with their terrible &s;hot, they &s;wept them all out of the place, then began the Turke to thru&s;t his men for|ward vppon the breach (hauing lo&s;t in this a&s;&s;ault aboue 2100.) and euer as they came vp to the breach the Cannon heaued them of, and the &s;mall &s;hot fro~ the loopes, &s;o galled them that they dur&s;t not approach. But the Turke cared not, for the murthering of his men, might weary the Cannons in&s;atiate cruelty at length. Then was the alarme giuen through the Citty, and euery one fell to their Arms, getting to the wals, and the re&s;t to the a&s;&s;em|bling places, while&s;t the Turke fre&s;hly filled the breaches with murthered men, he enforcing him&s;elfe to his power to enter, and they to k&eacute;epe him out. When he &s;aw that how hee had &s;topt the breaches &s;o with dead bodies, which almo&s;t made a newe red &s;ea with their bloud, in a great rage tran&s;porting aboue 30000. me~
<PB REF="35"> ouer the Danubie, furni&s;hed them with &s;caling ladders, whil&s;t he with great &s;tore of cannon beate his owne &s;laine men off the forenamed breaches, for he was a mercile&s;&s;e tyran, &amp; cau|&s;ed them to a&s;&s;ault the wall it &s;elfe, which they did. Nowe be|gan the morning to appeare, and y^e <HI>Chri&s;tian</HI> came iu&s;t vppon the backs of the a&s;&s;ailants, with the greate&s;t part of the whole power of the citie, and put them al to the &s;word, &s;aue tho&s;e that e&s;caped from them by water, but killed of their owne felows. Then the Chri&s;tian marched vpon the Turke, who &s;&eacute;eing his power greatly weakned, hauing lo&s;t at his vnluckie a&s;&s;ault a|boue 23000. men, cur&s;ing and banning his di&s;a&s;trous fortune, and his Gods the giuers of it, retyred in a flying pace to his campe, whil&s;t the plentious &s;poile made rich the Chri&s;tian, for vpon the dead carca&s;es were found &s;tore of iewells and golde in great plentie.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="28" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Chap. 28.</HEAD>
<P>THis new victorie gladded the Chri&s;tians exc&eacute;edingly, as much as it grieued the Turke. The breaches now were fre&s;hly repayred with all expedition. The Chri&s;tian Princes &s;&eacute;eing the inconuenience that followed their k&eacute;eping within the citie, and how great &s;hame it were for them to ab|&s;tain from the enemie, con&s;idering their power to be not much inferior to that of the Turks in number, much more in braue &s;ouldierie, wherefore they made a generall mu&s;ter, and deter|mined to offer the battell to them in the plaine field, which if they refu&s;ed, they would giue them in their campes, conclu|ding all vnder one dayes valiaunce, then marched foorth the Engli&s;h archers, of whom <HI>Wagner</HI> de&s;ired he might b&eacute;e with his fellowes, which when they had taken theyr &s;tond, they brought &s;tore of fletcherie to them in cartes, which were there di&s;burdened, &s;o euerie archer beeing fiue double furni&s;hed, the number of them now was nine thou&s;and, the pike being con|uerted into them, being thereto de&s;irous, and hauing therfore made great &s;uite, for the Emperour was verie loth to forgoe theyr fir&s;t good &s;eruice: <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> coun&s;elled the Captaine to chu&s;e a plot of aboue one hundreth akers &s;quare, where it was open to each hor&s;e man, which they meruailed at greatly, but
<PB REF="36"> yet they ea&s;ily granted to &s;tand anie where: they were &s;o wel placed, that they &s;tood as wel to defend the friend, as to offend the foe. Then in due order marched out the whole enemies of the Chri&s;tian, and &s;o &s;etteled them&s;elues, while&s;t the Turke brought forward his thicke &s;warmes. Now it had bin a braue &s;ight, to &s;ee the greate&s;t princes of the whole worlde Ea&s;t and we&s;t, attended on by theyr whole forces &s;et in araie, theyr gor|geous and bright armours and weapons ca&s;ting vp long tra|mels of golden &s;hine to the heauens, the noi&s;e of clarions, trum+pets, &amp;c. incouraging the fainting &s;ouldier, and increa&s;ing the boldnes of the re&s;olute There was at once in this field all the terrour of the world, accompanied with all the beautie. In the Citie you might haue &s;&eacute;ene the remainders at the churches at prayer, &s;olemne proce&s;&s;ion round about the towne with great deuotion, &amp;c. Well, the time was come that the hor&s;emen be|gan to a&s;&s;ault the pike, and attempting the ruptures of theyr araie, and the forlorne hoaps fiercely &s;kirmi&s;hing, whil&s;t with loude outcries the whole v&s;e of hearing was taken away: a|boue you nothing but &s;moake, round about you the thundring cannon, and &s;harpe horrors of &s;undrie weapons, and at your f&eacute;et death. There might you &s;&eacute;e the great v&s;e of the eughen how for the hor&s;e no whit fearing the mu&s;ket, or caliuer, as v&s;ed to it, nor yet re&s;pec<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter"> the pearcing of a bullet, by the thick tempe&s;t of arrowes, hiding their eyes, and hurting their bodies, ouer|threw the hor&s;e ma&s;ter to the ground, on that &s;ide could not one hor&s;e man appeare, but &s;traight they fetch him downe, &s;o that of thirtie thou&s;and hor&s;emen of one a&s;&s;ault, there was not one that came within fiue &s;pears length of the battel on foot. The great Turke cur&s;ing heauen and earth, and al tr&eacute;es that bore &s;uch murthering fruit as bowes and arrowes, cau&s;ed a troup of fiue hundreth barbed hor&s;e with twentie thou&s;and more to runne vpon the archens altogether, which they did, but when they came iu&s;t vpon a little ridge, not one hor&s;e but &s;odaynely &s;topt, and the riders which now had re&s;ted their &s;tones, lying clo&s;e vpon the &s;addle pommels, were throwen quite out of the &s;addle, and either their backes broken, or quite &s;laine. All the whole archerie with the camp wondering hereat, as ignorant of the matter, euerie one &s;u&s;pending his &s;euerall iudgement,
<PB REF="36"> but <HI>Fau&s;tus</HI> laughed heartily, who knew the matter plaine, for there had they buried in &s;and all the waie wolues guts, which by naturall magicke, as authors affirme &s;uffers not the hor&s;e to come ouer it in anie ca&s;e, nor any force can carrie him ouer with a rider on him. For the Archers drue iu&s;t vpon, and &s;o v|niuer&s;ally &s;hot together, that all the troups were put to flight, and aboue halfe &s;poiled and murthered. To be briefe, &s;o much the Chri&s;tian preuailed vpon the Turke in thr&eacute;e houres and a halfes fight, that all them were turnd and fled, each one ad|uancing forward in his flight, there were &s;laine in this battel &amp; flight aboue &s;euen &s;core thou&s;and Turkes, the great Turke him&s;elfe fighting manfully on his Elephant, was by the Em|perors owne handes &s;layne, all his chiefe Ba&s;&s;as and men of honour, to the number of thr&eacute;e hundred died manfully about him: now the retrait was &s;ounded, and they marched home in mo&s;t glorious pompe and reioycing, where the &s;oldiers made rich with the great &s;poile of the campe, were di&s;mi&s;&s;ed, and the princes returned home, and due order taken for the &s;afetie of the citie. So the Duke of Au&s;tria rid of his enemies, gaue him &s;elfe to his forepa&s;&s;ed life, and the other princes with great ioy cau&s;ed generall fea&s;ts and triumphs to be performed in all theyr kingdomes, prouinces, and ter|ritories what&s;oeuer.</P>
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