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<DATE>2014-04-06</DATE>
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<NAME>Brian Matzge</NAME>
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<IDG S="marc" R="UM" ID="B17861">
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<TEXT LANG="eng">
<FRONT>
<DIV1 TYPE="title page">
<PB REF="1">
<PB REF="1">
<P>CORALBO. A NEVV ROMANCE In Three Bookes.</P>
<P>WRITTEN IN ITALIAN BY <HI>Cavalier Gio.</HI> FRANCESCO BIONDI.</P>
<P>And now Faithfully Render'd into ENGLISH.</P>
<P><HI>LONDON,</HI> Printed for <HI>Humphrey Mo&s;eley</HI> and are to be &s;old at his &s;hop, at the <HI>Prince's Armes</HI> in St. <HI>Paul's</HI> Church-yard <HI>Anno Dom.</HI> 1655.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="frontispiece">
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<PB REF="2">
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<P><FIGURE>
<FIGDESC>man on horse</FIGDESC>
</FIGURE></P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="dedication">
<PB REF="3">
<HEAD>TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE WILLIAM EARL OF STRAFFORD, <HI>&amp;c.</HI></HEAD>
<OPENER><SALUTE>Right Honorable,</SALUTE></OPENER>
<P>_NO &s;ooner had the invincible <HI>CORALBO</HI> put on an Engli&s;h Habit, and Fitted him|&s;elf to make his fir&s;t Addre&s;&s;e to your Lord&s;hip, becau&s;e he was a &s;tranger here, and had no other outward Ornaments then &s;uch as my unpolli&s;h'd Language could furni&s;h him with; When Death, Envious of the in|tended good Fortune was willing to be&s;tow on this poor Forraign Prince, had like to have &s;natcht me away ere I could bring him into your Honours pre&s;ence. Hee had hear'd (my Lord) before he left his own Country, that your noble Ance&s;tors have alwaies given entertainment and &s;helter to &s;trangers, which induc'd him to betake him&s;elf to your honour for Refuge, and hope that he &s;hall not prove unworthy of that protection hee craves at your hands. As for me; 'Tis not unknown (my Lord) how for|ward I have been both in publick and private to expre&s;&s;e the Ardent de&s;ire I alwaies had to &s;erve your Noble Fami|ly; which with the interce&s;&s;ion of this Noble Prince will I hope prevail with your Lord&s;hip, that I may ki&s;s your honour'd Hands, which is the &s;ole de&s;ire of</P>
<CLOSER><SIGNED><HI>My Lord your Honour's Mo&s;t Humble Servant</HI> R. G.</SIGNED></CLOSER>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="to the reader">
<PB REF="4">
<HEAD>TO THE READER:</HEAD>
<P>_IT were lo&s;t labour to commend this <HI>Author,</HI> the <HI>Stationer</HI> hath it already from your hands that you like his Endeavours. You have &s;o welcom'd the former (as well <HI>Romances</HI> as real <HI>Hi&s;tories</HI>) of <HI>Cavalier GIO: FRAN|CESCO BIONDI,</HI> that this is confident of Recepti|on. For we can a&s;&s;ure you the <HI>Author</HI> was not in danger of be|ing tir'd when he wrote <HI>CORALBO;</HI> and that he knew how to u&s;e his Pen the be&s;t of judicious have often atte&s;ted. We need therefore no more but tell you, that the <HI>Author</HI> publi&s;hed the <HI>Originall</HI> him&s;elf, which will &s;ecure this from &s;u&s;pition of being <HI>Spurious.</HI> And (which is more to our purpo&s;e) him&s;elf thought <HI>CORALBO</HI> the chief and mo&s;t perfect piece of the three (there were two before) and therefore re&s;erved the be&s;t of his plots and choice of his matter for his third, which con&s;um|mates the whole Work. <HI>Farewell.</HI></P>
</DIV1>
</FRONT>
<BODY>
<DIV1 N="1" TYPE="book">
<PB N="1" REF="4">
<HEAD>CORALBO Of Cavalier: <HI>GIO&V;. FRANCESCO BIONDI.</HI></HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">THE FIRST BOOKE.</HEAD>
<P><HI>_CORALBO</HI> was gone to accompany the valiant <HI>Lindadori</HI> and her Parents at their departure from <HI>Memphis:</HI> When, he being left alone, found him|&s;elfe enflamed by the fire of this reverberating ab&s;ence, in the &s;ame manner, as things here on Earth u&s;e to be enflamed, more by the Sunnes reflection, then by the Sunne it &s;elf. Her pre&s;ence had till now, kept him from tho&s;e paines which grew in an in&s;tant, like a dolefull birth, of &s;uch a privation nouri&s;hed by the overflowing milk of fancy. There was not any &s;en&s;ible thing in him, which, to aggravate the &s;ence, did not make an exact &s;crutiny of tho&s;e de&s;ired perfections. His memory repre&s;ented unto him his confu&s;ions, his darkne&s;&s;es, and in the thicke&s;t of them, the Altar con|&s;ecrated to the Idol of tho&s;e faire eyes, which having formerly been objects of a&s;toni&s;hment and delight, were now become unto him ob|jects onely of nece&s;&s;ity and de&s;ire. It was objected unto him, that he had evill re&s;olved him&s;elf, and that the covetous de&s;ire of Kingdoms and jealou&s;ie of honour (for the mo&s;t part vicious and vaine) had more prevailed with him, then a maidens de&s;ert, worthy to be pre|ferred to all the Crowns and Honours in the world; her &s;elfe being a &s;ufficient crown and honour to any one, who &s;hould have the for|tunate happine&s;&s;e to po&s;&s;e&s;&s;e her, and who&s;e lot it might be to be crowned with her love, a Crown far exceeding any other Diadem. He came to the Court late, and though imagined he had at other times &s;eene it, yet that very thought &s;eemed fallacious to him; &s;o naked it
<PB N="2" REF="5">appeared bare of that Ornament (which in his opinion) was the very height and tran&s;cendency of its beauty. Nor could any one that &s;aw &s;o much mutation in him, penetrate into the cau&s;e of it. It was ima|gined, his melancholly proceeded from the lo&s;&s;e of his companions indifferently: That pa&s;&s;ion is a virtue, which not to di&s;cover it &s;elfe to be love, doth cloath it &s;elfe with the vail of friend&s;hip. The Prin|ce&s;&s;e of <HI>Cyrene,</HI> who had to her fir&s;t amorous affection (after he was declared Prince) joyned the &s;econd of a good opinion, and did &s;o wind about him, and hang upon him, being grieved to &s;ee his minde perplexed, that &s;he vexed him even when &s;he imagined with her dal|liances to comfort and cheri&s;h him. She thought alone to po&s;&s;e&s;&s;e him, not perceiving that being borne to misfortunes in re&s;pect of a lawfull love, all unlawfull ones were momentary and mournful to her: what eye was there ever that could penetrate the Heavens, and with the priviledge of di&s;cerning, know the occult characters of divine pro|vidence, unle&s;&s;e di&s;cerning be a perceiving that di&s;ordinate affecti|ons never come to any good end, and that the puni&s;hment which followes them, though it does not touch the life, yet it ruines mans honour and reputation by an ignominous report? <HI>P&s;emitides</HI> failed not in providing of what he judged to be needfull for the undertaking of what he had de&s;igned and promi&s;ed, and wherewith he had threat|ned another, having given order for all things with &s;uch facility, that one might ea&s;ily perceive his long practi&s;e in warfaring, had made him free from all irre&s;olutions. And having &s;ent for <HI>Celitcazween</HI> of <HI>Arabia,</HI> with the prince&s;&s;e <HI>Bell-alba</HI> her Daughter to <HI>Memphis,</HI> hee received them with all &s;uch honours, as any raigning Prince&s;&s;es could expect, having already re&s;olved in the &s;ecret coun&s;el of his thoughts, that he could not be&s;tow his Daughter <HI>Elitrea</HI> upon a more worthy Son in law, then <HI>Coralbo,</HI> who being obliged by affinity and benefits, he promi&s;ed him&s;elf an undoubted &s;ecurene&s;s within his Dominions, whil&s;t he lived; and after his decea&s;e, a potent and faithfull tutele for his elde&s;t Sonne <HI>Gradovido.</HI> Having ruminated and dige&s;ted &s;uch thoughts in his minde, calling <HI>Celitea</HI> a&s;ide, he thus &s;pake unto her. I am re&s;olved (Madam) to goe very &s;hortly into <HI>Arabia</HI> for the recupe|ration of your Kingdomes, which I hope to recover with my forces, ju&s;tified by your rights. But I have re&s;olved fir&s;t to do a thing, which as it &s;hall be a benefit to you, &s;o will it give me abundance of &s;atis|faction. Your benefit it will be, to encourage and hearten my Souldi|ers in &s;uch manner, as that having an intere&s;t in your affaires, they may not only willingly expo&s;e them&s;elves to the dangers of War, but be as it were obliged to die in your &s;ervice: Otherwi&s;e I might ju&s;tly have cau&s;e to feare, their hope of ran&s;acking and plundering being taken from them (&s;eeing the body of your Dominions mu&s;t be kept entirely whole for you, as I intend they &s;hall) they will hardly with cheerefulne&s;&s;e engage or adventure them&s;elves, being deprived of all their military emoluments, and e&s;pecially they being to fight neither for me, nor for them&s;elves; and Aegypt not to gaine the propriety, nor any benefit of &s;uch conque&s;ts as it &s;hall gaine with th'expence of
<PB N="3" REF="5">its own blood. Then it will be a great &s;atisfaction to me, to make it appeare to the world (which will hardly believe Princes do &s;tirre, unle&s;&s;e it be for &s;ome intere&s;t of their owne) that my re&s;olution to aide you, proceeds from a free will: and that if there be any intere&s;t, it is worthy my greatne&s;&s;e, and others commendation. I will give your Sonne <HI>Coralbo</HI> my Daughter <HI>Elitrea</HI> to wife, and your Kingdomes (which I will recover at mine owne perill and co&s;t) for a Dowry. If this propo&s;ition &s;hall be acceptable to you, it &s;hall much content me, if not, I will not how&s;oever faile to make trial of my fortune, and the obedience of my &s;ubjects without any condition. <HI>Celitea</HI> who &s;tood all this while &s;u&s;pended, not knowing or imagining to what <HI>P&s;emitides</HI>'s &s;peeches would tend, would have kneeled to him to give him thanks, but he taking her under the arme, would not &s;uffer it; when &s;he with a Maje&s;tick humility, an&s;wered him: Sir, though your Maje|&s;tie will not permit me to ki&s;&s;e your hands, which is the duty to which your magnanimity binds me, yet &s;hall not you deny me with a tongue enflamed with affection to give you &s;uch thanks as I am able, though all too little, in re&s;pect of your tran&s;cendent favours. The Gods endowed you with &s;o much prudence, and enriched you with &s;uch abundance of curte&s;ie, that to make u&s;e thereof, you plea&s;e to be carele&s;&s;e of that e&s;teem, which is ju&s;tly due unto you, for your other tran&s;cendent parts. That Scepter which &s;o happily go|verns &s;o many Kingdomes, is held in a hand as powerful as Clement: Your &s;ubjects, my Lord, are neither &s;o bare of affection, or armed with power &s;ufficient as to di&s;obey you. Not &s;o little inriched with &s;o many &s;poiles, attained through your many-fold glorious Victories, that they will pretend either any hopes more worthy then the obey|ing of your commands, or greater profits, then to eternize their re|nown under the unconquered en&s;ignes of your incomparable valour. Wherefore he that &s;hould imagine, that need of this &s;hould be the motive of this unheard of courte&s;ie, were unworthy to receive it. And as for that which you pretend, under pretext of cautions to ac|cumulate me with favours, it is the utmo&s;t can be, not only pretended, but al&s;o imagined. Who is it but may perceive, that where &s;uch ver|tues are, there can be no roome or place void for any intere&s;ts? your Maje&s;ties head is begirt with &s;o many Diadems, that the addition of more would not onely be &s;upernumerary, but trouble&s;ome al&s;o. The &s;ublimene&s;&s;e of this your royal mind, compo&s;ed ever of magnificent Liberalities, joyned to the innumerable va&s;tne&s;&s;e of your Trea&s;ures, cannot breed in any one &s;uch irrational impre&s;&s;ions; wherefore what|&s;oever you &s;ay or doe for me, will be but a publique Declaration to the world, that you are a King and Monarch without any equall in all manner of vertues. Behold &s;ir, here I am, your &s;ervant, together with <HI>Coralbo.</HI> Di&s;po&s;e of us as you plea&s;e, goe on in cau&s;ing Nature to admire, &s;eeing it is your will &s;o to doe, rai&s;e your &s;ervant to be your Sonne; rai&s;e me who am aba&s;ed by &s;o many misfortunes, to the hap|py title of Mother to your onely Daughter, a Prince&s;&s;e &s;o eminent, to make me happy in &s;erving her. All the&s;e will be Miracles, Sir, and if
<PB N="4" REF="6">they be not &s;o to you, to whom doing good is an ordinary cour&s;e of nature, yet will it be &s;o to us, to whom it, receiving any comfort, hath a long time been extraordinary and &s;upernaturall Having thus &s;aid, &s;he would againe have made obey&s;ance unto him, but he (having de|creed within him&s;elfe to intreat her, not onely as his equall in degree, but al&s;o with all &s;uch re&s;pect as any courteous Knight might afford to a great Lady) would not &s;uffer it, but holding her up, an&s;wered. Ma|dam, The courteous opinion wherewith you plea&s;e to honour me, as it doth &s;urpa&s;s all manner of conception, &s;o can not my duty equal the great de&s;ire I have to &s;erve you. If the Gods have been liberall to|wards me of any extraordinary Talent, it was conditionally, that I &s;hould employ it for the publique benefit. They did not e&s;tabli&s;h worldly powers to oppre&s;&s;e, but to relieve the oppre&s;&s;ed; and though there be &s;ome compo&s;ed of oppre&s;&s;ions, yet they are not all &s;uch. The different degrees to power, make the difference betweene Powers. Tho&s;e who&s;e ends were avarice and covetou&s;ne&s;&s;e, had no other meanes to attaine to them, but frauds, corruptions, and hypocri&s;ies: the Gods make u&s;e of &s;uch for &s;courges and in&s;truments of wrath among&s;t mortals. But the others, who&s;e ends are glorious, rai&s;ed them&s;elves by the onely meanes of fortitude and clemency, by which they repre&s;ent together with Omnipotency, cele&s;tial mercy. In the fir&s;t, there was never any but nominal peace. In the latter war it &s;elfe promi&s;es peace, and &s;ubjection, a &s;tate of &s;ecurene&s;&s;e and re&s;t. Now they having, placed me among&s;t the latter, and your Kin&s;man <HI>Bramac</HI> among&s;t the fir&s;t; your protection duely belongs to me, without pre|tence of your any way being obliged unto me. In the meane time, let this marriage be concluded betwixt us, which you &s;hall intimate to Prince <HI>Coralbo,</HI> and my wife &s;hall &s;peake of it to my Daughter. <HI>Celitea</HI> lo&s;t no time, in communicating of the Kings proffers to her Sonne, thinking to make him lift up his hands to heaven for joy: but the con|trary befalling her, being much perplexed therefore, &s;he having re|proved him for his folly, and &s;hewed him, that a di&s;hone&s;t and hurt|ful affection, ought not to prevaile above the intere&s;ts of profit and honour, intimating to him by &s;uch conceipts, the love of the Prin|ce&s;&s;e of <HI>Cirene,</HI> in &s;uch &s;ort that he might very well perceive it. But <HI>Coralbo</HI> after a little agitation of the minde, an&s;wered her, Madam, I am not &s;o farre divided from my &s;elfe (though I be not throughly my &s;elfe) as to be ignorant of the great good which you offer me, &s;ee|ing that of my &s;elfe being poore, and without any &s;tate, there is of|fered me, together with an e&s;tate, the po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion of &s;o great and wor|thy a Prince&s;&s;e. I would &s;moother my mine evills in &s;ilence, if I were not per&s;waded it might make you believe a thing too di&s;&s;onant from truth, the bonds whereby I am bound unto you, as my mother and &s;overaigne being too great to &s;uffer me to be di&s;obedient. The love of the Prince&s;&s;e of <HI>Cirene</HI> doth not trouble me, and if it &s;hould, I could not pretend to make her my wife, &s;he being already married. Here he related unto her the Hi&s;tory of <HI>Lindadori,</HI> his amorous inclinations, how he had re&s;olved to &s;erve her and make her his Lady; but &s;hee
<PB N="5" REF="6">not knowing thereof, and he con&s;equently being free, he intended (though unwillingly) to accept of the gift, which at this pre&s;ent was tendred him by fortune, being a&s;&s;ured that <HI>Elitrea,</HI> infected with the &s;ame malady, would not con&s;ent to it. And becau&s;e <HI>Celitea</HI> could not well under&s;tand what he would infer thereby, he pro&s;ecuted the relation of the comming of <HI>Lindadori</HI> and <HI>Eromena,</HI> to that Court in the habit of Knights, and how <HI>Eromena</HI> having inflamed the Queene, and <HI>Lindacori Elitrea,</HI> with their loves, he could not e&s;teeme her free to be&s;tow her &s;elfe on any other. <HI>Celitea</HI> &s;miled at the&s;e ca&s;ualties, re&s;t|ing well &s;atisfied of her Sonne, who preferring obedience to his youthful affections, had put her out of tho&s;e doubts which &s;he alrea|dy did begin to feare. The King, when night was come, communi|cated to his wife <HI>Leiride,</HI> what had pa&s;&s;ed betweene him and the Queene of <HI>Arabia,</HI> alledging among&s;t others rea&s;ons two as chiefe. One, that he could not be&s;tow his Daughter upon a nobler Prince then <HI>Coralbo,</HI> unle&s;&s;e he had re&s;olved to make choice of one of the two Princes of his blood, not yet e&s;pou&s;ed, which he ought not to do, for feare of &s;uch confu&s;ions as might ari&s;e within his owne Domini|ons, in ca&s;e he &s;hould die before his Son <HI>Gradovido</HI> were come to age; be|&s;ides that, he did not perceive either of them to be capable of it. The Duke of <HI>Siene</HI> too young, and linked to the Prince of <HI>Berenice.</HI> The Duke of <HI>Mi&s;&s;orme,</HI> vicious and temerarie, imbued with Maximes full of poy&s;on and dangers, both for &s;tate and &s;ubjects. His other rea&s;on was, that having cau&s;e to &s;tand in feare of tho&s;e Princes, by rea&s;on of his Sonnes tender, and his own failing age, he being by cour&s;e of na|ture near his end, he ought to get a Son in law, who &s;hould be power|ful of him&s;elfe, and void of all pretences to the Kingdome of Aegypt: That to this end he undertooke the War of <HI>Arabia,</HI> becau&s;e that ha|ving conquered it, he might inve&s;t him in it, by the name of Dowry, and &s;o leave him never a foot of Land on this &s;ide the Sea, from whence he might have forces or a&s;&s;i&s;tance, intending in time, to leave him Tutor to his Sonne, a&s;&s;uring him&s;elfe he could not be able to a|bu&s;e the Authority of that title, having &s;o many who would watch over his actions; nor the Princes attaine to the ends of their de&s;ignes, being oppo&s;ed by a great Prince, &s;trong in his owne and the Countries Forces, by the Lawes, and the per&s;on of the pupill King. That if any one &s;hould take occa&s;ion to taxe him, for giving his Daughter that for a Dowry, which in meer propriety belonged to his Son in law; it was an objection of no great moment. Prudent Princes caring little for others di&s;cour&s;es, words wounding no man: and roy|al &s;pirits being of &s;ufficient proofe again&s;t the tongues of the vulgar. But that the&s;e were not his ends, though but rationall if they had been &s;uch, being &s;ure he &s;hould &s;pend as much Trea&s;ure in the con|que&s;ts of the <HI>Arabies,</HI> and a great deale more, then would have countervailed his Daughters portion, and that his &s;ubjects would hardly have &s;tirred, fought but weakly, and de&s;troyed the whole Country, if he had not before hand made it knowne, that it was for his intere&s;t in a thing which concerned his Daughters portion, and
<PB N="6" REF="7">his future Grand-childrens. <HI>Leiride</HI> applauded her Husbands di&s;cour|&s;es, and purpo&s;ing to move the que&s;tion to her Daughter, <HI>Elitrea</HI> was no &s;ooner up, but &s;he &s;ent for her, and with much joy related unto her, her Fathers intention, thinking nothing could be more plea&s;ing to a maiden, then the propo&s;all of marriage. But &s;implicity enforced by love, cau&s;ed her to oppo&s;e all her Mothers per&s;wa&s;ions, declaring &s;he would have no other Husband but <HI>Lindadori,</HI> whom &s;he knew by no other name; but the younge&s;t of the Knights of <HI>Europe,</HI> who had beene at the Court but few moneths &s;ince. <HI>Leiride</HI> was troubled at it, not knowing what an&s;wer to give her Husband, fearing his ju&s;t in|dignation and di&s;plea&s;ure. But &s;eeing that neither prayers, nor threat|nings, could alter her re&s;olution, &s;he was con&s;trained to relate unto him what the Prince&s;&s;e her an&s;wer was, mitigating the offence with her &s;implicity and childi&s;hne&s;&s;e. <HI>P&s;emitides</HI> laughed at it, and unfold|ing the Riddle, unfolded unto her the Riddle of the two warriere&s;&s;es, excu&s;ing him&s;elfe that he had not before di&s;clo&s;ed it unto her, by rea&s;on of his promi&s;e made to <HI>Coralbo.</HI> He related unto her the oc|ca&s;ions of their comming into Aegypt, and of their &s;uddain departures thence, wherewith &s;he remained no le&s;&s;e a&s;toni&s;hed then comforted; &s;eeing her &s;elf freed from tho&s;e affections, which the love of <HI>Eromena</HI> had rai&s;ed in her: for having till that time lived an enemy to any thing as &s;avored of di&s;hone&s;ty, her Con&s;cience was troubled for having harbored any thought contrary to her former cour&s;e of life and de|meanour, which though &s;he had not in effect violated, yet &s;he had in Cogitation at lea&s;t corrupted and &s;tained. Having pa&s;&s;ed &s;ome time in plea&s;ant di&s;cour&s;es upon the&s;e newes, &s;he took her leave, to relate the&s;e particulars to her Daughter, who made que&s;tion a long time, whether &s;he &s;hould believe them or no, till at la&s;t very fortu|nately <HI>Celitea</HI> came in, who relating many other particulars which &s;he had heard from <HI>Coralbo,</HI> it was not difficult for her, in few dayes to alter that affection which was framed upon a fal&s;e &s;uppo&s;ition, into a true one, without any change of fortune; for as &s;he was deceived in the one at fir&s;t, &s;o was &s;he extreamly in the latter. The marriage pub|li&s;hed, and to be con&s;ummated after the enterprize was brought to an end (<HI>Elitrea</HI> being yt too young to undergo &s;o great a burthen;) there was every where a generall joy; the Banks of <HI>Nilus</HI> being every day frequented by the continuall pa&s;&s;age of Men and Hor&s;es. There were at that time in the Court, as many factions as there were Prin|ces of worth in it, it being an ordinary thing among Warlike Nations, to corrupt the inward peace, while the externall flouri&s;heth with all the Neighbours. <HI>P&s;emitides,</HI> a great Philo&s;opher in knowing the na|ture of his &s;ubjects, had endeavoured many yeares by divers means, to breed one War out of another, employing tho&s;e turbulent &s;pirits abroad, to keep him&s;elfe peaceable in the internall quietne&s;&s;e of his own Dominions. But his thoughts at la&s;t proved vaine, his de&s;igns being not continued by him, and his valour having cau&s;ed him too quickly to terminate tho&s;e victories which might have rendred him compleatly happy, if he could have been contented to conquer more
<PB N="7" REF="7">&s;lowly, wanting Kingdomes to conquer, and Wars whereby he might obtaine that &s;ecurity which was needfull for him. Whereby that proved true in him, namely that accelerated virtue, prone to exce&s;|&s;es, did for the mo&s;t part prove hurtfull, and &s;ometimes mortal. For e&s;teeming him&s;elfe formidable to all, for his &s;o many royal conditi|ons, with the reputation of &s;uch tran&s;cendent victories, free from en|vie, having no peer, beloved for his clemency and ju&s;tice: he for|&s;ooke his &s;olid judgement, and gave him&s;elfe over to Fortune, not con&s;idering that virtue had enemies, who the more cowardly they were, were &s;o much the more cruell and inexorable. It was almo&s;t ten yeares, &s;ince his forces being driven back by the exce&s;&s;ive hot &s;ea|&s;ons of the Equator, and by the va&s;t &s;ands of <HI>Libya</HI> he returned home, weary of &s;o long a War, purpo&s;ing to for&s;ake <HI>Mars,</HI> and follow <HI>Ve|nus;</HI> a War far more dangerous for him then for any other, as well for the too late appliance of him&s;elfe thereunto, his haire being al|ready grown hoary, as al&s;o becau&s;e the &s;ame having corrupted and depraved his imaginative faculty, endammaged his advice, and made way to the plotting of meanes to ruine him, to which the tender age of his &s;ucce&s;&s;or was a great invitation. The Rebels being per&s;wa|ded, they might not onely govern him according to their own de&s;ires, but al&s;o take from him his riche&s;t Jewels, and pluck the faire&s;t flow|ers out of his riche&s;t and faire&s;t Garlands. The King of <HI>Ethiopia</HI> had already &s;olicited many, by &s;ecret Me&s;&s;engers, and large pen&s;ions to procure his death by any meanes, for feare of being one day oppre&s;&s;ed among&s;t tho&s;e which were daily conquered; but none of them dur&s;t undertake &s;o hard and dangerous a taske, as well becau&s;e he being beloved of all, they &s;aw him environed continually by &s;o many Guards, as al&s;o becau&s;e they would avoid being obliged (he then having neither Wife, nor legitimate Children) to obey their com|panion: being rather willing to obey a lawful and vertuous Prince, then a tyrannical Traytor whom they could not tru&s;t, nor he them. Then this plot being interrupted by the en&s;uing peace, and the ve|nome remaining in their hearts, it tooke effect in this new rai&s;ing of Armes. <HI>Aegypt</HI> had many Princes, whereof foure were of the Royal blood. There were &s;ome others, if not equal in degree, yet in traines of followers no le&s;&s;e powerful then they. Of the fir&s;t &s;ort, the Prince of <HI>Berenice,</HI> and the Duke of <HI>Mi&s;&s;ormo,</HI> hated the King to death: the former offended in his Wife, with whom he had held &s;ome kind of not well concealed practi&s;e for many yeares, and did &s;till continue it; and although he was enriched, and had daily favours accumulated upon him, yet that was a continuall &s;ting &s;ticking in his heart. <HI>Mi&s;&s;or|mo</HI> had no cau&s;e at all given him, yea was daily obliged by innume|rable benefits, yet he hated him, by rea&s;on of the di&s;&s;imilitude of their cu&s;tomes. And becau&s;e he was the fir&s;t Prince, the Government fell to him during the &s;ucce&s;&s;ors minority, he by his death a&s;pired not on|ly to the Government, but al&s;o (if he could procure his death) to the Crown it &s;elf. The Prince of <HI>Cirene,</HI> who till that time had been faith|ful, began to waver after the marriage with <HI>Elitrea</HI> was publi&s;hed.
<PB N="8" REF="8">For hating <HI>Coralbo,</HI> he could not without de&s;pight, &s;ee him with any authority in Aegypt; his Wife not onely inamoured, but frantick in publi&s;hing her love to him. The Duke of <HI>Siene,</HI> by rea&s;on of his ten|der yeares, unable to di&s;po&s;e of him&s;elf, did depend upon the Prince of <HI>Berenice,</HI> who had been his Fathers Brother. The others, who were not of this rank, &s;ome followed the King, and &s;ome the Prince&s;s, the former guided by their duty and loyalty, the latter by va&s;t hopes, which ea&s;ily &s;prung up in tho&s;e, who become poore by &s;pending richly, would try any way to grow rich, to the end they might by &s;pending, grow poor againe. <HI>Bramack</HI> having received <HI>P&s;emitides</HI> Em|ba&s;&s;ie, grew not faint-hearted, tru&s;ting both upon his own Forces, and his treacherous deceits. He had already &s;ecured him&s;elfe of his own &s;ubjects in &s;uch manner that he did not feare them, having ob|liged &s;ome few with benefits, who were his in&s;truments to keep the others within the bounds of fidelity, leaving no publique nor private place, no Harbour, Hou&s;e, nor Temple, without &s;pies, where woe was it for them who but dur&s;t to have held their tongue while&s;t o|thers &s;pake: Actions, words and &s;ilence, being all equally danger|ous. Prai&s;es being made crimes, di&s;cour&s;es concerning the Royall per|&s;on indifferently hurtful, publique a&s;&s;emblies prohibited, conver&s;a|tions for&s;aken, parents &s;u&s;pected, diffidencies and di&s;&s;imulations a|mong&s;t brethren, Praytors the more abominable, the more prodigal|ly rewarded; wherefore unhappy was that Father, who&s;e chance it was to have an unnatural di&s;obedient Child. What&s;oever was done by him&s;elfe, was by his Sycophants applauded, as if it had been de|creed in heaven. He &s;hadowed his Art with cunning, making u&s;e of hypocri&s;ie to deceive the mo&s;t penetrating judgements; indoctrina|ted and taught, if not by others, by him&s;elf, that the be&s;t way to cozen people, was by meanes of &s;uper&s;tition. It having Iron lawes, Ada|mantine bits, and a yoak of lead; whereas piety is gracious in its Lawes, having mild bits, and its yoak being light, &s;erving none but it &s;elfe, if any el&s;e, &s;uch Princes onely, who&s;e Gods onely object were the &s;ubjects welfare. That a Prince as he was, could not attaine to his de&s;ignes without deceiving, and that after he had &s;o done, he was &s;ure he might dazle the be&s;t &s;ighted eyes, bow the mo&s;t flexible necks, cloak perfidie with Religion, and under pious and religious names, make it lawful to him&s;elfe, to grow cruel again&s;t charity, religion and nature: He had cau&s;ed to come out of the neighbouring Indies, a &s;ect of Philo&s;ophers called <HI>Samaneans,</HI> who hating poverty, and the incultivated rigidne&s;&s;e of the <HI>Gymno&s;ophi&s;ts</HI> their in&s;titutors, had with politene&s;&s;e and wealth, embraced a more tractable Philo&s;ophy, and gained to them&s;elves mo&s;t of the riches, and the plea&s;ante&s;t &s;eats of all the Indies: they were divided into Cla&s;&s;es, and though all under one profe&s;&s;ion, yet had they &s;everall ends. Their chiefe Cla&s;&s;is go|verned the re&s;t. And as the Watch-maker with one key, gives an uni|ver&s;al motion to the whole Worke; &s;o this Cla&s;&s;is moved the &s;ub|ordinate ones, which in the manner of in&s;en&s;ible wheeles, being con|&s;trained by their di&s;cipline, came to operate each one by it &s;elfe,
<PB N="9" REF="8">and to terminate times without knowing them, by others directions, joyning the fir&s;t to the &s;econds carreer, towards their la&s;t &s;cope: name|ly to gaine full authority over Princes and Nations, and having got|ten it, to con&s;traine the one by the favour of the others, to obey their becks, to &s;uppre&s;&s;e all other Sects as &s;uperfluous, and unu&s;eful, to in|herit thereby all offices, wealth, and honours. The&s;e therefore being by <HI>Bramack,</HI> known to be men of extraordinary under&s;tanding, of much repute among the Indians, &s;o that Princes them&s;elves &s;tood in awe of them; he would trie if within his Dominions they could bring that to pa&s;&s;e, which others of their &s;ect had done in other places, namely to in&s;till into his &s;ubjects minds, to not e&s;teem of dangers, but to adventure them&s;elves into any perils in his behalfe, and to even die for him. Neither was he deceived, for they having received honours, and liberall gifts, and freedome of will and advice (which is the thing they chiefly aimed at, and &s;eemed mo&s;t to de&s;pi&s;e) tho&s;e &s;pirits were &s;o refined, that in a &s;mall time they gained many for him, per&s;wading them to devote their lives to his &s;ervice, telling them this was the &s;horte&s;t way, and the &s;ecure&s;t to bring them to the happy &s;prings of the everla&s;ting Gardens, confirming their thoughts there|in, with (be&s;ides the everla&s;ting fame which they &s;hould gaine) other recompences which were promi&s;ed to their Wives, Children, and Heirs. After <HI>P&s;emitides</HI> had declared War again&s;t him, his fir&s;t con|ceipt was to make u&s;e of the&s;e men, but he could not tell upon which of the two his death to re&s;olve, <HI>P&s;emitides</HI> or <HI>Coralbo.</HI> He con&s;idered, that the murtherer being taken (which in <HI>P&s;emitides</HI> murther mu&s;t needs happen, he being continually environed by &s;o many men) a|live, and proving rather re&s;olved to die, then to be tormented, he then &s;hould find him&s;elfe in the Sands, if not in a wor&s;er ca&s;e then he was: for the Aegyptians would continue warres again&s;t him, in re|venge of their King, and that which imported mo&s;t, accompanied with everla&s;ting ignominy, which though in opinion contemptible, would not perhaps prove &s;o in effect, &s;uppo&s;ing it might give a &s;trong alarum to all the neighbouring Kings. The killing of <HI>Coralbo,</HI> he thought might prove ea&s;ier, it being po&s;&s;ible to find him alone, and &s;o the murtherer might (after the act was done) &s;ave him&s;elfe by flight, which proving right, he deprived <HI>P&s;emitides</HI> of his cau&s;e of war|ring, and if it did not, the <HI>Arabians</HI> lo&s;t their pretence of building new hopes: for though a Mother and a Si&s;ter &s;urvived, yet the in|clination of the &s;ubjects depended upon the Son, neither would they exchange a male Prince, po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ed of his rights, for two di&s;-inherit fe|males, &s;ubject to &s;uch dangers as their &s;ex brings them into. The&s;e con&s;iderations made him re&s;olve <HI>Coralbo</HI> his death, de&s;igning the o|thers al&s;o if need required. But before the effecting of it, he &s;ent a great confident of his into Aegypt, a man, who &s;urpa&s;&s;ing all others in cunning, was &s;o skilful in the Aegyptian tongue, that he que&s;tioned not but he might pa&s;&s;e for an Aegyptian, in &s;uch a wa&s;t City as <HI>Memphis,</HI> and amid&s;t the concurrency of &s;o many Souldiers of &s;everall Nations and Tongues. He commanded him to ob&s;erve the
<PB N="10" REF="9">Souldiery, their Order, their Qualities, their Armes, their Municions. And cau&s;ing a little letter of credency to be &s;own up in a doublet he had made of <HI>Hippotatamus</HI> skinnes, he appointed him to deliver it to <HI>Geldebar,</HI> one of Queen <HI>Celitea</HI> her &s;ervants, who u&s;ed to informe him of all the Queens proceedings, and had &s;ent him word of <HI>Coralboes</HI> arrival. He bid he &s;hould by him informe him&s;elfe of all the mo&s;t &s;ecret parti|culars of the Court, e&s;pecially concerning <HI>Coralbo.</HI> What his cour&s;e of life was, what friends he had, with whom he conver&s;ed, how he pa&s;|&s;ed the time away, whether he followed hunting whether he went of|ten from Court, whether accompanied, or alone, or by night; what enviers, or enemies he had; in what e&s;teem he was with the Prince&s;s, and others: Whether a plot might be laid again&s;t his per&s;on without danger; if with danger, how it might be avoided. He gave him or|ders for the receiving of great &s;ummes of money by &s;uch by-wayes, and with &s;o many cautions, that they &s;eemed not to come out of <HI>Ara|bia,</HI> having been formerly returned by Bills of exchange at &s;everall times in all places of <HI>Syria</HI> and <HI>Rhenicia;</HI> from thence into <HI>Cyprus,</HI> and thence to <HI>Memphis</HI> by &s;everall blanks. He bid him give a good part of it to <HI>Geldebar,</HI> to be employed by his advice: His intention being they &s;hould purcha&s;e them&s;elves dependencies upon one Prince or more of that Court: and be&s;ides money, he gave him very rich Jewels, di&s;cour&s;ing to him that covetous Princes, in dangerous affairs did &s;pend more ten to one, then liberall ones; that wi&s;dome is blin|ded with the love of money; that which is expended be&s;ides the ma|terial charge, of Souldiers and Ammunition, &s;eemed to &s;ome to be ca&s;t away, who do not know that intelligences, &s;pies, and corruptions are the true meanes either to extingui&s;h Warres, or bring them to a good period. <HI>Rai&s;emet</HI> (for &s;o was this man called) being thus di&s;patched, arrived to <HI>Memphis</HI> without any danger, neither was it difficult to him to find out <HI>Geldebar,</HI> in a City &s;o full of inhabitants, and at that time more then ever, full of &s;trangers. After he had given him the letters, and enriched him with a great &s;umme of ready money, and filled him with great hopes; he related unto him <HI>Bramacks</HI> concepti|ons, according to the malice of their under&s;tandings, being both ex|ceeding cunning. They plea&s;ed <HI>Geldebar</HI> extreamly, and &s;o much the more, becau&s;e they were mo&s;t conformable to his owne, wherefore though he were prevented in the propo&s;all of them, he was not &s;o in the advice of the executing of them.</P>
<P>Having therefore given <HI>Bramack</HI> many thanks for his bountifulne&s;s, and highly commended his prudency, he told him that the Princes of the Court (excepting &s;ome few) were all apt to be corrupted; Idlene&s;&s;e, prodigality, and ea&s;e, having rendred them &s;tubborne, poor, and de&s;irous of changes. That he notwith&s;tanding, thought it not fit to make u&s;e of any more then one of them; one being &s;uf|ficient to draw in more without any danger. He named <HI>Mi&s;&s;ormo,</HI> de|ciphered him what manner of man he was, temerary, ambitious, co|vetous, enemy to the King, and much more to <HI>Coralbo,</HI> whom he e|&s;teemed to be the onely ob&s;tacle to his de&s;ignes: So that upon this
<PB N="11" REF="9">ba&s;is, ought the whole de&s;igne to be grounded, that the death of the King, <HI>Coralbo,</HI> or both, would be fruitle&s;&s;e without him. That the lea&s;t advantage <HI>Bramack</HI> could gaine thereby would be, to tran&s;port the War out of his own Kingdome into others, or to enjoy a calme peace, while there &s;hould &s;pring up in Aegypt an infinite of &s;eeds of di&s;&s;ention, which were by &s;uch a hand to be &s;owen. <HI>Geldebars</HI> caute|lous di&s;cour&s;e, plea&s;ed <HI>Rai&s;emet</HI> wondrous well, and remitting the care thereof to him, he would have given him Jewels, and Gold for the Duke, but he would not take them, judging it would be better to give them him&s;elfe. He had already gotten &s;ome knowledge of the Duke, giving him to under&s;tand by his talke, that he was evill af|fected towards his Mi&s;tre&s;&s;e and her Sonne, but had proceeded no farther, thinking him &s;tartled at that di&s;cour&s;e. But he was deceived, for he was very well plea&s;ed therewith, and very well contented, to have &s;ome of <HI>Coralboes</HI> hou&s;hold depend upon him. So that while&s;t <HI>Geldebar</HI> &s;ought &s;ome occa&s;ion to &s;peak to him for <HI>Rai&s;emet,</HI> he him&s;elfe pre&s;ented him one, by enquiring concerning the Ports, Ca&s;tles, and Forts of <HI>Arabia:</HI> But <HI>Geldebar</HI> giving him a civill and di&s;creet an|&s;wer, with &s;ome re&s;erves, as if &s;uch a relation de&s;erved &s;ome more &s;e|cret place, made him call him apart, where continuing his interrupt|ed di&s;cour&s;e, he de&s;cribed <HI>Arabia</HI> to him &s;o &s;trong, that <HI>P&s;emitides</HI> for|ces might find &s;ome ob&s;tacles and oppo&s;itions in it. <HI>Bramack</HI> to be the mo&s;t prudent and generous Prince in the world, who&s;e &s;ubjects would rather die at his feet then yeeld; and that they did not onely think <HI>Coralboes</HI> pretence to be unju&s;t, but did al&s;o imagine this to be a &s;uppo&s;ed <HI>Coralbo,</HI> and that the right one was taken and killed when he fled; but that it was not publi&s;hed, becau&s;e <HI>Bramack</HI> thought it not fitting le&s;t it &s;hould be hurtful to him, to make him&s;elfe hateful in the beginning of his Raigne, to tho&s;e who favoured <HI>Celitea:</HI> That among&s;t all his laudable qualities, his chiefe was, to make high e&s;teem of generous Princes: That <HI>Mi&s;&s;ormo</HI> was very much inclined towards him, and had thought many times to &s;end a &s;ecret Amba&s;&s;adour to him, to offer him his friend&s;hip and amity. <HI>Mi&s;&s;ormo</HI> a&s;&s;ured of <HI>Gelde|bars</HI> hatred to <HI>Coralbo,</HI> and that he being of one of the chiefe Families of <HI>Arabia,</HI> might hold &s;ome intelligence with <HI>Bramack,</HI> thought hee him&s;elfe was the &s;ame Amba&s;&s;adour, &s;o that undermining one ano|ther they came at la&s;t to di&s;cover them&s;elves; but having heard <HI>Rai&s;e|mets</HI> Amba&s;&s;age, and of the pre&s;ents &s;ent him, the facility of killing the King, though with the murtherers certaine death, with the prof|fers made to maintaine Warres for him in Aegypt, to rai&s;e him to the Crown: He admitted <HI>Rai&s;emet,</HI> and accepting of the pre&s;ents, appoin|ted the time of the murtherers comming to &s;lay <HI>P&s;emitides. Coralbo</HI> af|ter his decea&s;e, remaining without any forces, and <HI>Bramack</HI> &s;ecured from the Aegyptians Armies, comming into <HI>Arabia. Rai&s;emet</HI> prodi|gal of what his Ma&s;ter had given him for many, gave it all to <HI>Mi&s;&s;or|mo</HI> alone, examining the occa&s;ions wherewith he &s;hould availe him|&s;elfe of them: And being returned home, he rendred &s;o plea&s;ing an accompt of his negociation with <HI>Bramack,</HI> that in a &s;hort time he be|came
<PB N="12" REF="10">for Titles, Dignities, and Revenues, the greate&s;t man in the Kingdome. And though <HI>Mi&s;&s;ormo</HI> his opinion concerning the death of <HI>P&s;emitides,</HI> was by him judged to be the be&s;t to free him from war, yet the making away of <HI>Coralbo,</HI> he al&s;o e&s;teemed ab&s;olutely nece&s;|&s;ary, to free him&s;elfe from the onely competitor he could have, whom &s;ince he had rea&s;on to feare, he could not naturally chu&s;e but hate ex|treamly. Wherefore having made choice of two murtherers, he &s;ent them to <HI>Memphis,</HI> without directing them to any man; the &s;ubjects on whom they were to employ them&s;elves, being &s;o con&s;picuous, that the venturing of them to the &s;ight of any (though very good friends) could not chu&s;e but be very dangerous Wherefore being fir&s;t per&s;waded, they &s;hould by this deed (if they dyed) obtaine everla&s;ting happine&s;&s;e; he added thereunto promi&s;es of high rewards to their po&s;terity, the mo&s;t cunning deceivers being of opinion, that one ought to think that natural rea&s;on being able to reflect with &s;ome raye of truth amid&s;t the thicke&s;t fogs of deceipt, and di&s;&s;ipate them, it was needful to rai&s;e up deceiptful hopes of the equally fallacious imagination, with the reall ones of &s;ence, which are not &s;ubject to &s;uch gro&s;&s;e illu&s;ions. In the meane time, there were in Aegypt, &s;uch preparations for Warres, as being calculated by humane judgement, one might have verily believed, that <HI>P&s;emitides</HI> might therewith have made him&s;elfe Ma&s;ter, not of <HI>Arabia</HI> onely, but of the Univer&s;e: when his unexpected death over-threw all mens expectation. He was come forth of the City into the field, to add wings unto the Cap|taines diligence by his pre&s;ence, who marched away under their Co|lonells, &s;ix or eight thou&s;and at a time towards the <HI>Arabian</HI> Sea, the Chanels of <HI>Nilus</HI> being full of great Boats to pa&s;&s;e them over with all their Baggage. There was he (not content to &s;tay and take his ea&s;e in a Tent) running up and downe &s;o &s;wiftly, that followers were trouble&s;ome to him. There was a Regiment newly imbarqued, when the King retreating a little from the bank &s;ide, e&s;pied a Souldier on Hor&s;eback, and called back the next Boat to carry him away, and in the meane time e&s;pying in his hand a little Cro&s;s-bow all of Iron, and judging it of no u&s;e for warre, would &s;ee it, and the Souldier taking it againe, as it were to &s;hew him the trial of it, bent it with a Key, and laded it with a &s;teel Arrow, not above a &s;pan long, and run|ning at him on Hor&s;e-back, &s;hot it into his heart, &s;o that pa&s;&s;ing clean through him, it remained in the body of another Knight who was be|hind him; all which was done &s;o &s;uddainly, and without any noi&s;e, that had they not both fallen &s;uddainly without &s;peaking ever a word, no body could have imagined any &s;uch thing. The Boat which was called back, knowing that man to be none of theirs, went away without waiting the Kings command. The Princes were in a Tent playing with <HI>Coralbo.</HI> The Souldiers were at a di&s;tance looking to their Furnitures, ready to pa&s;&s;e over as &s;oon as the Barks returned. Some of <HI>P&s;emitides</HI> Hou&s;hold were with him, but a foot as he was, &s;o that the Traytor had time to fly without being pre&s;ently pur&s;ued: But the rumour thereof being arrived to the Kings Tent, you cannot
<PB REF="10">imagine what an a&s;toni&s;hment po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ed all the &s;ences of <HI>Coralbo. Mi&s;|&s;ormos</HI> knowing whence the blow came, and fearing lea&s;t the parri|cide &s;hould be taken alive, got upon the next Hor&s;e, and followed him with all &s;peed: &s;o did all the Hor&s;emen, running every way to thwart his pa&s;&s;age which they might ea&s;ily doe, the Country being watered by many Chanels made by the hands of men. He in the meane time fled, keeping upon the border of <HI>Nilus,</HI> to reach to a bark four miles higher, which he had hired to pa&s;&s;e him over: But find|ing it alone, the owner being gone a little way about &s;ome bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, and his pur&s;uers following him &s;o clo&s;e, he could not have had time to embarque his Hor&s;e, though the Boat had beene loo&s;e, it being made fa&s;t with a lock and a chaine, he thought it therefore his &s;afe&s;t way, to adventure him&s;elfe in the River, then to fall into the hands of &s;o many enemies. The Hor&s;e did as much as a Hor&s;e could do, to overcome the &s;wiftne&s;&s;e of the &s;treame. But though it were one of the be&s;t of <HI>Arabia,</HI> it was not able long to &s;trive again&s;t the violence of the current, &s;uffering it &s;elfe in de&s;pight of hand and &s;pur to be carried towards the bank: <HI>Mi&s;&s;ormo</HI> being &s;pectator, and raging that he did not &s;ink, feigning he believed he might e&s;cape, commanded him to be &s;hot with arrowes. But there was by chance but one Bow to be found in the whole company, every one upon &s;uch a &s;uddaine oc|ca&s;ion, being runne thither onely with Sword and Spear. The Tray|tor in the meane time perceiving the danger, and that cro&s;&s;ing the water directly, (as he at fir&s;t had fooli&s;hly attempted) was impo&s;&s;ible, &s;uddenly turned his Hor&s;e, and let him goe with the &s;treame, think|ing by little and little, he might gaine the other &s;ide. Neither might he, peradventure, have been deceived, if he had at the fir&s;t guided him with a more gentle hand; but being bred with the former vio|lent cour&s;es, he began to take in water &s;o fa&s;t, that he was in danger of &s;inking, if he perceiving it had not ea&s;ed him, and ca&s;ting him&s;elfe out of the &s;addle, had not catcht hold of his tail: But the Bea&s;t, who&s;e ends were contrary to his Ma&s;ters, finding it &s;elfe at liberty, turned towards the neare&s;t &s;hore, where nature prompted him he might &s;ave his life, his Ma&s;ter being not able to turne or &s;tay him by the tayl. <HI>Mi&s;&s;ormo</HI> being re&s;olved he &s;hould not be taken alive, aligh|ted (blaming within him&s;elfe the mans cowardline&s;&s;e, who to live &s;ome few dayes longer, &s;hould make choi&s;e of a mo&s;t cruell death amid&s;t a thou&s;and torments, rather then to be drowned in an in&s;tant without any more pain) &amp; taking the next Lance to him, run him ju&s;t into the wind pipe before he came to the &s;hore, &s;o that the water running into the wound, and the blood i&s;&s;uing out, he remained in the River till he was almo&s;t dead, and being drawn out, (and though &s;ome cried he &s;hould be let alone with that little breath he had, <HI>Mi&s;|&s;ormo</HI> not contradicting it, &s;eeing him in &s;uch ca&s;e that he was not like to &s;peak any more) was by the inraged people cut into a thou&s;and peeces upon the &s;hore, there remaining nothing but the Hor&s;e left, whereby one might judge who was he that had employed him in this bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, which was known to be <HI>Bramacks</HI> by the crowned Phenix
<PB N="14" REF="11">which was on his thigh, the ancient and famous mark of the Kings of <HI>Arabia's</HI> hor&s;es. <HI>Coralbo</HI> had in the meane time with inward griefe, cau&s;ed <HI>P&s;emitides</HI> body to be brought into the Tent, and finding Chi|rurgery had no power over death, riding towards <HI>Memphis</HI> in a full cariere, to &s;peak with the Queen and her Mother before the Princes arrival, no body following him but foure of his own hou&s;hold. He was hardly come out of the camp, when a Hor&s;eman cro&s;&s;ed his way, who &s;eemed to de&s;ire to &s;peak with him; <HI>Coralbo</HI> &s;tayed, thinking he had been &s;ent upon &s;ome me&s;&s;age. And as de&s;ire u&s;es to be often times a rai&s;er of dead hopes, he thought him a me&s;&s;enger of <HI>P&s;emitides</HI> de&s;pai|red life. But the man being come neare to him, let fall his cloak, and drawing out a &s;hort Semitar, ranne upon him to wound him, and had done it, if <HI>Coralbo</HI> before hand &s;u&s;pecting it, had not &s;purred his hor&s;e another way. The a&s;&s;ailant pa&s;&s;ed forward, carried away by his hor|&s;es fiercene&s;&s;e, &s;o that he had no time to turne his face upon <HI>Coralbo</HI> his four men, who were upon him &s;uddainly, and one of them taking hold of his bridle, gave the three others time to take away his wea|pon, by him ea&s;ily yeelded, becau&s;e he would lo&s;e no time in &s;triving for it; but drawing his dagger, he wounded two of them with two mortal wounds, and &s;purring on to do the like to <HI>Coralbo,</HI> who was come nearer him, his Hor&s;e grew unruly, and he reyning him in hard to make him obedient to the bit, the reynes broke, and the hor&s;e car|ried him away again&s;t his will, and falling under him he had been ta|ken alive, if with a de&s;perate re&s;olution he had not with his owne dagger deprived him&s;elfe of life. <HI>Coralbo</HI> took breath &s;eeing the dan|ger pa&s;t, yet grieved much for his two wounded &s;ervants, e&s;pecially one of them who was upon dying. But &s;eeing nece&s;&s;ity drove him to go forward, and his &s;tay not being able to doe dying men any good, he left the two which were not wounded, to take care of the other two. Being come to <HI>Memphis,</HI> I am not able to relate how his dolour was increa&s;ed by the lament which he heard, being many times &s;tayed by the weeping people. He found the Palace de&s;poiled of all its ornaments. <HI>Leiride</HI> and <HI>Elitrea, Celitea</HI> and <HI>Bel<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">alba,</HI> the Prin|ce&s;&s;es and Ladies, their haire loo&s;e, and their ve&s;timents torn, lying on the ground, their howlings (rather then teares) increa&s;ing at his comming in, his grieved affections could not chu&s;e but &s;econd them, humanity, piety, and the apprehen&s;ion of evills, having at that in|&s;tant taken away his con&s;tancy from him; neither could he choo&s;e, unle&s;&s;e he would have been wanting to him&s;elfe, &s;eeing that accom|panying teares with griefes, is in extreame mi&s;-fortunes, an image of content. The Queen aro&s;e, and with her all the re&s;t, by whom being encompa&s;&s;ed, they called as earne&s;tly upon his a&s;&s;i&s;tance, as if the enemy had been comming upon them: He having &s;tayed the teares, which, with an importunate violence flowed from his eyes, taking the Queen and Mother a&s;ide, into a little chamber adjoyning there|unto; &s;aid unto them, Ladies, If teares could call back the Kings life, or with&s;tand the perills threatned us by his death, I &s;hould e&s;teeme comforts to be treacheries, and a kind of compliance to the guilt not
<PB N="15" REF="11">to mourn for the effect. But as the one is impo&s;&s;ible, &s;o are we like to have time more then enough to grieve, and too little to look for re|medies. The life of this glorious King, the more it de&s;erves lamen|ting, the more it ought to per&s;wade us, to &s;u&s;pend our laments, to examine the dangers which hang over our heads. What hath befallen him you have already heard, what hath befallen me, and is like to happen to us all, I will now relate. Here he made a narration of his own ca&s;e, the death of the a&s;&s;aulter, and the little hope of life of both the wounded men, which reiterated the terrour of both the Queenes which heard him. Then directing his words to <HI>Leiride,</HI> he went on, &s;aying, Madam, The&s;e things do all proceed from the ma|chinations of <HI>Bramack,</HI> and from the Duke of <HI>Mi&s;&s;ormo.</HI> The arguments and rea&s;ons which per&s;wade me are: That the Hor&s;e which was ta|ken out of <HI>Nilus,</HI> is of <HI>Bramacks</HI> race, and the parricides accents Ara|bi&s;h, <HI>Mi&s;&s;ormo</HI> among&s;t all the Princes alone, (an imployment farre too low beneath one of his rank) followed him, and killed him, while&s;t he ought, and might have taken him alive to have driven the truth out of him, and cleared all doubts, and puni&s;h him by the hang|mans hands, though in this la&s;t he de&s;erves pardon, he being the true formal executioner of Aegypts whole Monarchy. But that which in|crea&s;es in me the credency thereof, that the King &s;ome three moneths &s;ince told me, that he knew by a Gentleman belonging to the &s;aid <HI>Mi&s;&s;ormo,</HI> that <HI>Geldebar</HI> my Mothers &s;ervant, was often with him in &s;ecret conference: and that about a moneth &s;ince, the &s;ame Gentle|man had told him that <HI>Mi&s;&s;ormo</HI> had di&s;bur&s;ed abundance of money, and it not known that he had alienated any thing of his owne, or o|thers lent him any. That he had given the Princes of <HI>Cirene</HI> and <HI>Be|renice</HI> money, and jewels of great value. Practi&s;es, and liberalities which had oftentimes per&s;waded and enticed him to &s;ecure his per|&s;on, but had ab&s;tained from &s;o doing, moved by the inconveniencies which might follow, and the hope he had to catch him at &s;uch a time as he &s;hould not be able to excu&s;e nor &s;ave him&s;elfe. And be&s;ides, I was no &s;ooner known to be <HI>Coralbo,</HI> when I came di&s;gui&s;ed with <HI>Po|limero</HI> Prince of <HI>Sardinia</HI> to &s;ee my Mother, but <HI>Bramack</HI> had notice of it. That any other hath done this, but <HI>Geldebar,</HI> we have no likelihood; wherefore this, and the &s;ecret practi&s;es and conferences he had with <HI>Mi&s;&s;ormo,</HI> make me certainly beleeve, that they two were the plotters of this Trea&s;on, to the end that <HI>Bramack</HI> freed from the danger of lo|&s;ing his &s;tate, and revenged of us who would have taken it from him, might make way for <HI>Mi&s;&s;ormo</HI> to u&s;urpe the Crown, by di&s;inheriting and killing of <HI>Gradovido.</HI> The two Queenes were a&s;toni&s;hed: But <HI>Ce|litea</HI> accu&s;tomed to &s;uch affaires, affirmed it could be no otherwi&s;e, &s;he having for a long time ob&s;erved upon &s;everall occa&s;ions, that &s;he had &s;pies in her hou&s;e; and that &s;he had al&s;o advice thereof, by &s;ome friends out of <HI>Arabia.</HI> It was therefore agreed upon, after &s;undry con|&s;ultations, that <HI>Geldebar</HI> &s;hould &s;ecretly be made pri&s;oner, before <HI>Mi&s;|&s;ormo</HI> his arrivall, and putting him to torments, to draw the truth out of him. <HI>Celitea</HI> had all (&s;ave this one) faithfull &s;ervants: &s;o that it
<PB N="16" REF="12">proved an ea&s;ie matter, the &s;ame night to keep him pri&s;oner without any tumult. Finding him&s;elfe di&s;covered he di&s;clo&s;ed all; adding that <HI>Celitea,</HI> together with her Daughter, were to be yeelded up to <HI>Bramack</HI> without any great noi&s;e, for being to be forced to leave the Court, and retire to their fir&s;t old habitation, they might ea&s;ily be ta|ken by the <HI>Arabians</HI> with the Princes conveniences. That <HI>Mi&s;&s;ormo</HI> his intention, was to make him&s;elfe King, but that he di&s;&s;embled it for feare of his companions, who had concurred in <HI>P&s;emitides</HI> death, to enjoy equally (in the Princes minority) the benefits of the go|vernment. That he a&s;pired to the marriage of <HI>Eli rea</HI> to effectuate his de&s;ignes with le&s;&s;e difficulty, to which he hoped to attaine in de|&s;pight of them by <HI>Gradovido</HI> his death, he being next to &s;ucceed. That &s;uppo&s;ing <HI>Coralbo</HI> dead, there was no other re&s;olution taken con|cerning him; but that being e&s;caped, he was not to live long, all of them having con&s;pired his death. <HI>Leirides</HI> was a&s;toni&s;hed in the va&s;t chaos of &s;o many machinations; but more &s;eeing <HI>Coralbo</HI> and <HI>Celitea</HI> forced to give way to fortune, &s;eeing that with them &s;he was depri|ved of all aid and coun&s;ell. Such a re&s;olution di&s;ta&s;ted <HI>Coralbo,</HI> &s;eem|ing to him that his honour &s;uffered thereby, but con&s;idering him&s;elfe to be too weak a fence, again&s;t the torrent of &s;o many Princes, being a &s;tranger without any followers, hated and envied, his marriage bro|ken off, trea&s;ons certaine, and his death manife&s;t, but above all the imminent danger of his Mother and &s;i&s;ter; he de&s;ired <HI>Leirides</HI> to be of good courage, a&s;&s;uring her that her right, and virtues would &s;oon gaine her friends and advice. That hands open to liberalities, would unite tho&s;e which were not yet united to her &s;ervice, and divide tho&s;e who were already united to her dammage. That by &s;uch means &s;he might penetrate into the mo&s;t &s;ecret councels with this advantage, that her enemies could have done nothing but weakly, and by wicked (and con&s;equently unfaithful in&s;truments, who would be per&s;waded ea&s;ily to revolt by hopes, and more certaine rewards, or by feare, and their duty. Whereas &s;he with her royal right, benefits, and trea&s;ures, of which &s;he ought to make her &s;elfe the &s;ole di&s;tributrix, could not want the be&s;t (and con&s;equently the mo&s;t faithfull) be&s;ides the good reputation which &s;he &s;hould gaine thereby, which though it be a birth of the imagination, yet &s;uch an one that without it, it is impo&s;|&s;ible for Common-wealths, or Kingdoms to &s;tand long and not ruine. That if &s;he could keep <HI>Geldebar</HI> alive without di&s;covering his impri|&s;onment, &s;he &s;hould doe it. He being a &s;trong engine at any time, and upon any occa&s;ion again&s;t the con&s;pirators; but if the &s;ecret &s;hould come to be di&s;clo&s;ed, before the e&s;tabli&s;hment of her authority, and that di&s;turbances might happen thereby, &s;he &s;hould cau&s;e him to be put to death &s;ecretly. That &s;he &s;hould not by any meanes, give the Prince&s;&s;e <HI>Elitrea</HI> in marriage to <HI>Mi&s;&s;ormo,</HI> but rather to the Duke of <HI>Siene,</HI> and that as &s;oon as po&s;&s;ible it might be: For as jarres and di|vi&s;ions would en&s;ue thereon, among&s;t all the Princes, &s;o with the e&s;tabli&s;hment of her party, would &s;he &s;ecure her Sonnes &s;tate and life. That the re&s;olution of his, and his Mothers going away, was
<PB N="17" REF="12">as nece&s;&s;ary for her, as for them, their pre&s;ence being but a pretence for others to trouble her; and &s;eeing they were not able to a&s;&s;i&s;t her with any &s;ervice, why &s;hould they &s;tay there to damnifie her? The dangers dryed up <HI>Leirides</HI> tears, and the weakne&s;&s;es of her mind were &s;trengthned by the knowledge of her affaires, and the manner of ma|naging of them. So that there was not thence-forth, any Queene that carried her &s;elfe better then &s;he: obliging, cheri&s;hing, and conni|ving; and by this meanes re&s;toring a monarchy to health, which a|mid&s;t the putrifaction of many humours, was by the Colledge of Po|litians judged incurable, and mortall. She cau&s;ed the next day a &s;mall light Gallie fir&s;t to be rigged and fitted with good rowers, and load|ing it with mo&s;t precious riches, for the reliefe of &s;uch deare friends, &s;he took leave of them with abundance of teares. And being im|barqued by night with all their &s;ervants, they gained in &s;mall time the open Sea; when <HI>Celitea,</HI> unre&s;olved of what place &s;he might make choice of to end her dayes in: <HI>Sardinia</HI> was by <HI>Coralbo</HI> propounded unto her. But that generous &s;pirit, not overcome by &s;o many adver|&s;ities, could not but unwillingly abandon tho&s;e Climates which were neare&s;t her ancient Kingdome: hoping fortune, incon&s;tant in hu|mane affaires, might &s;hew it &s;elfe the &s;ame to her enemies. But &s;he was deceived in it, for it would be a kind of con&s;tancy, or at lea&s;t of ju&s;tice in fortune, if in her volubilities &s;he did equally rai&s;e the op|pre&s;&s;ed to her former favours.</P>
<P>Being arrived to <HI>Cyprus,</HI> and having under&s;tood the qualities of him that governed it, &s;he thought &s;he might &s;ojourn there &s;ecurely, better then in any other place. <HI>Ortoman</HI> was dead, in a &s;hort time af|ter the Nuptialls were contracted between his Son <HI>Gradamoro,</HI> and the valiant <HI>Deadora:</HI> So that the Kingdome (though in mourning) flouri&s;hed under the command of the two new e&s;pou&s;ed couple. <HI>Ce|litea</HI> would not have had any one know what &s;he was, but whether the Mariners had blabbed it out, or the &s;plendor of her &s;ervants, or her own royall carriage, which though over&s;haddowed with adver&s;ity, could hardly be hidden: &s;he was pre&s;ently known to be there: So that Queen <HI>Deadora</HI> hearing of it, &s;ent not, but went in per&s;on to vi|&s;ite her: and being informed of her di&s;a&s;ters, having made proffer both of the King and her &s;elfe to &s;erve her, &s;he provided her with a habitation worthy her greatne&s;&s;e, and did what &s;he could to keep <HI>Coralbo</HI> there al&s;o. <HI>Gradamoro</HI> al&s;o inviting him thereunto with parti|cular urgent in&s;tances. But he &s;taying there &s;ome few dayes, and &s;en|ding back the ve&s;&s;el with his Mothers, Si&s;ters, and his own, to <HI>Leiri|des</HI> and <HI>Elitrea;</HI> he would needs depart, his old affections having converted his &s;ufferings into comforts: he being permitted therby to returne to his fir&s;t loves. So that having taken his leave of all, with promi&s;e of &s;peedy return, he directed his cour&s;e towards the <HI>Cicla|des,</HI> &s;ayling many dayes without any encounter, until one morning about the dawning of the day, he found him&s;elfe a little beyond the comming out of th'Egean Sea in a great calm. The Marriners taking their Oars in hand, advanced &s;o fa&s;t, that they overtook a Ve&s;&s;el
<PB N="18" REF="13">which being newly come out of the Port of <HI>Arcadia,</HI> coa&s;ted (as they did) along <HI>Peloponne&s;us.</HI> Wherefore having enterchangeably &s;aluted each other according to their cu&s;tome, they rejoyced that they &s;hould unitedly go &s;ome dayes journeys together. A young Cavalier was ma&s;ter of that Ve&s;&s;el, who being at that in&s;tant a&s;leep, as <HI>Coralbo</HI> al&s;o was in his own, and would not have waked &s;o &s;oon, if the rejoycing cries of the Marriners had not broken their &s;leeps: &s;o that ri&s;ing at his, and comming out of his Cabine, <HI>Coralbo</HI> likewi&s;e appeared in his Ve&s;&s;el. The inbred noblene&s;&s;e, their equality in yeares, and beauty, invited their curious eyes to examine and &s;urvey each other. Their mutual &s;alutes were accompanied with many courteous terms. And de&s;irous to know one another, e&s;pecially <HI>Coralbo,</HI> who was weary of being alone; the fir&s;t Complements being ended, he craved leave of him to come into his Ve&s;&s;el, which having obtained, they fell into di&s;cour&s;e. <HI>Coralbo</HI> began fir&s;t to relate to his voyage: He con|cealed what he was, and &s;uch particulars as in di&s;cretion he had rea|&s;on not to reveal: He &s;aid he came out of Aegypt, and was going up|on &s;ome occa&s;ions into <HI>Sardinia.</HI> The other, who for more &s;ecret cau|&s;es concealed him&s;elfe, related unto him that he came out of <HI>Greece,</HI> which he had punctually gone thorough from place to place: and ha|ving vi&s;ited all the I&s;lands of the Ionick and Egean Sea, he had left none un&s;een but <HI>Ericu&s;a,</HI> and <HI>Feacia,</HI> which he purpo&s;ed at the pre&s;ent to vi&s;ite, to pa&s;&s;e from thence into <HI>Sicilia, Bartenope, Sardinia,</HI> and fur|ther. This was not <HI>Coralboes</HI> right way, tho&s;e two bearing too much on the right hand of his cour&s;e; yet having heard &s;ome wonders of them (if it be a wonder that a new Country &s;hould repre&s;ent unto us, with the variety of per&s;ons varieties of accidents) he re&s;olved to goe on in that bending cour&s;e with &s;uch good company, and for|&s;ake his direct way: thinking it would not be well done of him to be&s;tow &s;ome few dayes more in vi&s;iting a place of &s;uch renown as <HI>E|ricu&s;a</HI> was in tho&s;e dayes (Renown which cea&s;ed after they were gone thence who were the cau&s;e of it.) And having &s;o determined, they went on, <HI>Coralbo</HI> retreating at night into his owne Ve&s;&s;el, and pa&s;&s;ing the day with &s;ingular plea&s;ure in &s;uch &s;weet company. He ob&s;erved very curiou&s;ly, and preci&s;ely the behaviour and carriage of the Knight, finding them &s;o delicate, that they argued him to be brought up among&s;t Ladies at Court, rather then among&s;t Knights in the field. And his former keeping company with <HI>Lindadori</HI> and <HI>Eromena,</HI> having opened his under&s;tanding, gave him to imagine, that this was not a man. The &s;weetne&s;&s;e of this voice, the grace of behaviour, the mode&s;ty beyond manlike a one, were arguments to per&s;wade him thereunto: be&s;ides the &s;ervice which a Dam&s;ell did him, which he made more frequent u&s;e of then an E&s;quire. But being not able to pick out any certainty of it, having ob&s;erved him to be melancholly and pen&s;ive: he one day &s;aid unto him, Let it (I pray &s;ir Knight) be lawful for me, to be by you informed of one thing, Whether you be|ing alone as you are, do not pa&s;&s;e your time away in &s;uch a long Na|vigation (as I do) in amorous thoughts: If you do not, I have great
<PB N="19" REF="13">cau&s;e to pitty you. Phanta&s;ies in young men as we are, if they have no &s;uch imployment, are in danger to be &s;poiled after the &s;ame man|ner, as &s;tomacks which having no nouri&s;hment put into them, are filled with evill humours. The Knight was amazed; and although the di&s;cour&s;e did not di&s;like him, yet he was &s;orry he could not &s;atis|fie him as he would have done: yet he an&s;wered him, Sir, I will not &s;ay, I do not pa&s;&s;e away the time in &s;uch manner: yea, my Phanta|&s;ie feeds upon no other food. True it is, that &s;tomacks &s;ometimes feed upon noxious food, &s;o that it would be better to keep them fa&s;t|ing: for if amorous thoughts be without hopes as mine are, it would be better have none hopes in love, hold (in mine opinion) the &s;ame proportion towards the imagination, as the radicall humidity does with the body, which humidity being &s;pent, there is no more life: therefore if they be mortified, it is contrary to nature that love &s;hould &s;ub&s;i&s;t; and if it doth &s;ub&s;i&s;t, its life is not reall, but phanta&s;tical and imaginary, drawn on by force of an amorous Magick: <HI>Coralbo</HI> &s;miled, the Knights beauty (if &s;uch he had been) &s;eeming to him to be free from &s;uch de&s;pairs; wherefore he &s;aid unto him, I know not how this your youth, accompanied with all tho&s;e ornaments, can make you &s;o unfortunate as you de&s;cribe your &s;elfe, unle&s;&s;e you take a de|light in imagining it to be &s;o. Many take plea&s;ure in weeping when they are in love, and will procure occa&s;ions &s;o to doe, or at lea&s;t pre|tend to have &s;ome. There are &s;ome ta&s;ts, which are better &s;atisfied with &s;owre, then &s;avory meates. And if I doe not believe any &s;uch thing of you, yet I will believe at lea&s;t, that your hopes are thus mor|tified, rather by the lo&s;&s;e of the thing beloved, then having it &s;till want occa&s;ion to hope, or talent to obtaine as much as you hone&s;tly de&s;ire.</P>
<P>The teares &s;tood in the Knights eyes hearing this, and he had much adoe to retaine them: but with great labour at la&s;t repre&s;&s;ed them, and an&s;wered him. I know not whether I be yet in this ca&s;e, and &s;topping would have gone forward, when the teares before re|pre&s;&s;ed, did in de&s;pight of him return, gu&s;hing out in &s;uch abun|dance, that his overflowing eyes became a torrent. And becau&s;e no|thing &s;hould be wanting to make up a reall &s;torme, all parts concur|red thereunto, in&s;omuch that the face before overclouded with grief, re&s;olved into a &s;hower of teares, was accompanied with thunders of &s;obs, and winds of &s;ighes, that it &s;eemed a deluge of beauteous and amorous raine. <HI>Coralbo</HI> &s;tayed waiting the &s;erenity of it, which the longer it was a comming, the more con&s;tant and calm it proved, &s;o that following his former di&s;cour&s;e, he &s;aid, I know not &s;ir Knight what my merits are, but I well know that I am the mo&s;t unfortunate &s;he that ever was born: for others once born, die but once, (having by death re&s;cued them&s;elves from the tyranny of fortunes changes) whereas I never born, and once dead, did ri&s;e again to die (again&s;t the lawes of nature) continually &s;ubject to a cruell and implacable de&s;tiny. The&s;e la&s;t words had not their perfect accents, having per|ceived &s;he had too openly &s;poken. But <HI>Coralbo</HI> grown tender with
<PB N="20" REF="14">compa&s;&s;ion, comforted her with mo&s;t courteous and affectionate words, proffering his a&s;&s;i&s;tance and &s;ervice in what&s;oever he &s;hould be able to doe. But &s;he more then ever &s;orry, for having di&s;clo&s;ed her &s;elfe to be a woman (griefe having deprived her of under&s;tanding) would have corrected her &s;elfe, by alledging that when &s;he had &s;aid <HI>unfortunate &s;he,</HI> it was in relation to <HI>Creature.</HI> But he already per&s;wa|ded of her being, an&s;wered, Lady, let not your mi&s;take grieve you; I am here not to oppo&s;e, but &s;erve you. It is all one to me of whe|ther &s;ex you are; if a man, I honour you without enquiring any fur|ther: if a woman, I will &s;erve you with that re&s;pect, and a&s;&s;i&s;t you with &s;uch fidelity, as a Knight is obliged to &s;erve a Lady of &s;uch me|rit as your &s;elfe. Wherefore if relating your mi&s;-fortunes to me, may avail you any thing, doe it, I imagine them to be extraordinary, as I hold al&s;o your condition to be no le&s;&s;e. If otherwi&s;e, let what hath been &s;poken &s;uffice, promi&s;ing that to give you &s;atisfaction, I will overcome mine own &s;ence, and believe you to be that man which you are not. <HI>Coralbo's</HI> &s;peeches plea&s;ed the Lady very well, but much more the ingenuity wherewith they were expre&s;&s;ed; wherefore gi|ving him many thanks, after a &s;hort pau&s;e &s;he &s;pake thus.</P>
<P>I am indeed an unfortunate one (&s;ir Knight) and a woman, which is beyond the equivocation of unfortunate <HI>Creature.</HI> My name <HI>Liarta,</HI> my birth Royal, my Country <HI>Lu&s;itania,</HI> my Ance&s;tors <HI>Celtes,</HI> of tho&s;e <HI>Celts,</HI> which &s;ubdued great part of <HI>Iberia,</HI> &s;o that not long after, the younge&s;t of tho&s;e Princes, comming over into <HI>Lu&s;itania,</HI> became Lord of it, leaving it peaceable to his &s;ucce&s;&s;ors. My Father <HI>Deviaco,</HI> was the younge&s;t of four Children to the la&s;t King &s;ave one, &s;o there fal|ling to him a &s;mal inheritance, between <HI>Minius</HI> and <HI>Limus,</HI> two famous Rivers, I was (I will not &s;ay born there, for I &s;uppo&s;e ripped up out of my dead Mothers belly) brought up, far from all courtlike hopes, and ambitions, believing the greatne&s;&s;e of my birth was &s;ufficient to make me as worthy as I was &s;cornfull and carele&s;&s;e of attaining to any higher degree of greatne&s;&s;e. An Affection, or defect borne with me, taken from my Fathers nature, who after the death of his Fa|ther, withdrawing him&s;elfe from Court, left his two other Brothers there with <HI>Viriatus</HI> the elde&s;t of all: A King of &s;uch worth, that he was &s;ingular among Princes, for holding in e&s;teem the good qua|lities of tho&s;e who belonged to him: a rule, which if it did &s;uffer exception in me, yet did it not in my Father <HI>Deviaco,</HI> but when he plea&s;ed: A noble and generous mind, born under Monarchicall Go|vernment being able to &s;erve his Prince, and enjoy tho&s;e fruits which fortune affords him, without any con&s;traint of corruption. In the &s;ame manner as (by meanes of a due proportion) any one may enjoy and make u&s;e of the heat of fire without burning in it. True it is, that if one ought to judge, by any other rule but that of rigorous and vul|gar pa&s;&s;ions, I can not with any rea&s;on accu&s;e him: for dying con|&s;tant in that cour&s;e of life, while&s;t he lived it was &s;o that no exorbi|tant vice could be found in him, going to the Court (when publique affaires required) upon the lea&s;t call of his Brother; having &s;erved
<PB N="21" REF="14">him, returning home (without ever de&s;iring any thing of him) to his dome&s;tick re&s;t. I mu&s;t rather accu&s;e my &s;elfe, time and variety of chances having made me now to perceive, that my retiredne&s;&s;e was no &s;olid body of vertue drawn from my Father, but a &s;hadow and a coppy embo&s;&s;ed from his originall, which failing me, I had no fur|ther power to bring it to perfection, &s;o that mine might have beene e&s;teemed a vertue as his, if it had been con&s;tant. King <HI>Viriato</HI> having buried his fir&s;t wife, without any i&s;&s;ue by her, took another in his old age, by whom he had two, equally (by rea&s;on of their royal condi|tions) judged the flower of all tho&s;e that ever were borne. It hap|pened that <HI>Almadero</HI> being the elde&s;t, was endowed with &s;uch &s;in|gular beauties, as well internall as externall, grew &s;o neare to Divi|nity, that no man almo&s;t thought him mortall. He had not obtained to fourteen yeares of age, when they began to talke of giving him a Wife. The Prince&s;&s;e of <HI>Cantabria</HI> excelling in beauty, had the gene|rall favour and applau&s;e of the whole Kingdome, in <HI>Betica</HI> and <HI>Tarracon,</HI> were two worthy Prince&s;&s;es: But <HI>Viriato</HI> (while&s;t his and the neighbouring people &s;tood in expectation of what would be done,) had in him&s;elfe long before concluded to be&s;tow a wife upon him, of his own family, one of his Neeces, the only daughter of one of his elde&s;t Brothers that were already dead, brought up by him to this end, with a fatherly and extreame care. But he was deceived there|in: His, and others examples &s;hewing us, that the heavens &s;eldome favour tho&s;e matches which are de&s;igned in the Cradle. My Father in the interim dyed, leaving beind him Children enow, but &s;mall for|tunes, and which was wor&s;e, rich thoughts joyned with poverty, which brought the hou&s;e and us almo&s;t in an in&s;tant to utter ruine. His &s;ickne&s;&s;e was no &s;ooner divulged at Court, but my two elde&s;t Brothers who &s;ojourned there, came flying home, ju&s;t when he was in his extremity, yet time enough to receive by word of mouth, the la&s;t codicill of his admonitions, among&s;t which was the care of their Si&s;ters, and of a reciprocall love among&s;t them&s;elves. But the chief was of an exact obedience, to proceed (more then out of obligation) from a reverent affection, doubly due unto the King, both as Uncle and Lord. Which (all other meanes laid a&s;ide) &s;hould be the &s;ole foundation of their hopes, therein (more then any thing el&s;e) con|&s;i&s;ting the &s;umme of all prai&s;e and merit: wherein he &s;o much ex|tended him&s;elfe, and with &s;uch effectuall words, that con&s;idering them afterward within my &s;elfe, I can not believe he &s;pake them, but onely becau&s;e he was doubtful they would operate a quite contrary effect in me, as it afterward happened. The Funeral was &s;olemnized, to honour which, the King &s;ent many of the chiefe of the Councell, with great &s;ummes of mony, not &s;o much for the expence of the Fu|nerall which was great, as to defray our journey to the Court, whe|ther (to relieve us from the importunate oeconomy of a de&s;olate hou&s;e) he invited, and commanded us to come. I having with much griefe re&s;ented my Fathers death, being while he lived his &s;upreme delight, found my &s;elfe no le&s;&s;e troubled, being forced to leave my
<PB N="22" REF="15">known aire and Country, and hou&s;hold Gods, and that quiet re&s;t of mind, which I was inwardly per&s;waded (either by a better Geni|us, or by melancholly) to be habituated in me. But I could doe no le&s;&s;e, then obey mine Uncle, follow my Brothers, vi&s;it my Si&s;ters, who were long before married, and in thinking to &s;hun evills, runne full into the mouth of them, &s;econding the maligne influences, with which mine unlucky a&s;cendant threatned me. Being arrived to Court, I was by the King received with &s;uch termes of piety and love, that no greater could have been u&s;ed if I had been his own Child. He a&s;|&s;igned me a pen&s;ion, worthy my con&s;anguinity, taking a re&s;olution in his mind, &s;uddainly to give me in marriage, con&s;idering I was of &s;uf|ficient age. For though in this habit I &s;eem very young, they reckon|ed at that time, that &s;ince my birth, might be reckoned <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">4 Solar re|volutions. I had never before cared for marriage, not &s;o much in con|&s;ideration of our poverty, (a&s;&s;uring my &s;elfe that upon &s;uch an oc|ca&s;ion, my good Uncle would not have failed me in his a&s;&s;iance) as becau&s;e I was loath to for&s;ake &s;o good a Father: who though he had tried me many times with an intent of &s;trayning his ability to the utmo&s;t, rea&s;on requiring, that in &s;uch a ca&s;e he &s;hould part from me; yet he forced me not, being content to have from my free will, that deniall which he &s;o much de&s;ired, yet would not willingly have ob|tained without my &s;pontaneous con&s;ent. But behold that which I mentioned but now: while I re&s;igne my &s;elfe, being Fatherle&s;&s;e wholly unto an Uncles commands, who was by me reputed a &s;econd Father, I thinking by this fortune to relieve my &s;elfe, do find by this meanes my &s;elfe quite overthrowne and undone. Prince <HI>Almadero</HI> when I arrived to Court, was entred into the fifteenth yeare of his age, yet old (by particular gift of heaven) in all perfections belong|ing to the greatne&s;&s;e of his princely birth. I was entertained by him with termes beyond a Coufins, te&s;tifying with honours, and affection, the plea&s;ure he took in my comming, but ere many dayes were pa&s;t, by continually frequenting of my company, he was &s;o plunged in it, that honours and affection, came unawares to be altered, con&s;angui|ty and courte&s;ie, fir&s;t cau&s;es of benevolence, turning into a kind of veneration, from which, as from a branch &s;prung love, which (as lea&s;t expected or looked for by me) grew &s;trong and con&s;tant in him. While&s;t uncertaine I ob&s;erve him, not being able to per&s;wade my &s;elfe that it was true; and if &s;o, yet in &s;tate rather of breeding, then of being borne; behold I found it growne to a full ripene&s;&s;e, and not believing mine own &s;ences, thought it to be a flame of &s;ome &s;mal &s;ub&s;tance, a fla&s;h, which in its fla&s;hing terminated its effect: But when convinced, it appeared to me a con&s;tant fire, no more a lightning, but a &s;un-beame. I know not which was greate&s;t in me, plea&s;ure or feare, delighted in the dignity, beauty, and merits of &s;o great a con|que&s;t, and fearing the &s;ecret notice which I had from my Father, how he was de&s;tinated for his Cou&s;in; &s;o that being to&s;&s;ed by the&s;e af|fections, I had like to have lo&s;t my &s;elfe upon the Rocks of de&s;paire, not being able to re&s;olve my &s;elfe upon conforming my will to his,
<PB N="23" REF="15">although I were willing, knowing the difficulties, fore-&s;eeing the im|pediments, and divining our dangers and damages. The Courtiers careful ob&s;ervers of others actions, e&s;pecially of their Princes, pre|&s;ently perceived <HI>Almaderoes</HI> inclination; and my Brothers having no|tice thereof, preimmediately came to me, wi&s;hing me to imbrace this good fortune: But I who even at that time thought it to be &s;lippery and uncertaine, &s;hewed them the dangers, which pre&s;ented them|&s;elves unto me, if I &s;hould take hold of it: That hopes were not to be mea&s;ured by the affections of a young Prince, but by the &s;olidity of an old King, who&s;e re&s;olutions were to be con&s;idered, together with his pa&s;&s;ions. Mine age as unequall, too dangerous for an Heire of a Kingdome. Con&s;iderations which &s;hould altogether, if not &s;atisfie, yet retard the precipitations of &s;uch Coun&s;ells. But they being per|&s;waded, that ambition and plea&s;ures which were their ends, &s;hould al&s;o be mine, were angry with me, thinking me fooli&s;h, for that which others would have commended in me, and e&s;teemed me wi&s;e for it. They repre&s;ented to me the Princes dignities and beauty, able to in|flame the mo&s;t frozen brea&s;ts, but I commi&s;erating their ignorance in this ca&s;e, &s;hewed them the deceipt of it. Love not breeding, but entring into a well compo&s;ed &s;oule, the doores being opened with the keyes of rea&s;on, to goe out againe the &s;ame way. I confe&s;&s;ed the Princes merits, but the&s;e were not to deprive me of the knowledge of my &s;elfe. I &s;et them before mine eyes to venerate as his &s;ubject, but not to enjoy them as his wife: another being de&s;tinated thereunto, and (which was of more moment then any thing el&s;e) his Father being of a contrary di&s;po&s;ition, which was the &s;umme of all other rea&s;ons. But what availed it me to be wi&s;e in my di&s;cour&s;es, when mine actions proved me to be a fool in every ones judgement. <HI>Al|madero</HI> thinking generall demon&s;trations, were not &s;ufficient to mani|fe&s;t his love to me, re&s;olved to goe on with me in more particular termes, and he accommodated him&s;elfe thereunto with &s;uch plea|&s;ing wayes, as would gave proved impo&s;&s;ible to any but him&s;elf, for farre from any artifice, they were uttered with &s;ighes, and accompa|nied with alternate palene&s;&s;e and blu&s;hings, innocently artificiall. Lady and Cou&s;in (&s;aid he) I have a &s;ecret inclo&s;ed within my bre&s;t, which though rea&s;on and hone&s;ty per&s;wade me, that I may freely di&s;clo&s;e unto you, yet the re&s;pect I beare to that invi&s;ible deity which I apprehend to be in you, will not permit me to di&s;cover it, unle&s;&s;e I fir&s;t be permitted and commanded by you &s;o to doe. I giving him thanks for this his &s;o courteous opinion of me, an&s;wered him, that con&s;idering the mutuall relation betweene him and I, of Lord and Va&s;&s;all, knew not how &s;uch a reque&s;t could fittingly be made to me; yet I would pray him not to &s;et a barre before his will: and judging my &s;elfe apt and able to keep &s;uch a gage if committed to my tru&s;t, if he thought me worthy of it; did a&s;&s;ure him, I would re&s;erve it within my bo&s;om, lockt up by the &s;ame key, as it had beene till that time locked up in his. He exceedingly well plea&s;ed with this an&s;wer, with a trembling voice and &s;parkling eye, proceeded, &s;aying, I believe,
<PB N="24" REF="16">Lady, you know my Fathers intention is to give me a Wife, but a|mong many propounded unto him, it is not yet perceived upon which of them he doth or will re&s;olve. I have not hitherto cared to take any thought therefore, indifferency having made me free, and con&s;e|quently content with &s;uch a one as he &s;hould chu&s;e for me.</P>
<P>But &s;ince your happy arrivall at this Court, I feele a &s;uddain altera|tion and change; For being free, I find my &s;elf made &s;ubject to your incomparable beauty, and vertues: and of contented as I was of any election my Father &s;hould make for me, I cannot be plea&s;ed with any but mine own, which of nece&s;&s;ity I mu&s;t prepo&s;e to all others: any other wife being not able to &s;atisfie me; nor I having &s;o much power over my &s;elf, as to will to take any other. I do not believe my Father will deny you to me. Your Nobility and the lu&s;tre of your incompa|rable vertues in rendring you worthy to felicitate and make happy a greater Prince then my &s;elfe; But I would not &s;peak unto him before I had &s;poken to your &s;elf, beginning even from this hour to re&s;igne my will totally up to yours. I who had already conceived <HI>Almaderoes</HI> love within my &s;elf, as it was repre&s;ented unto me barely, by mine own bare imagination, feeling thereby no commotion at all within my &s;elf; but now being conveied to mine internall &s;ences, in its reall be|ing. I felt my heart &s;o battered and brui&s;ed therewith; that laying away tho&s;e rigidne&s;&s;es which I u&s;ed in an&s;wering my brothers, I &s;o far inclined to pitty (but why &s;peak I of pitty? Let not the truth be concealed) I yielded &s;o farre to an extream love, that if <HI>Almadero</HI> had not been a &s;uiter to me, I &s;hould have made &s;uit to him: Yet in this &s;uddain perturbation, the Image of tho&s;e letts which had been &s;o maturely calculated by me when I was my &s;elfe, and free from pa&s;&s;ion, being &s;till before mine eyes, having made a new and &s;hort examination of my &s;elf, I an&s;wered him, Sir, The bu&s;ine&s;&s;e which you propo&s;e unto me, it being to &s;eat me in an extream happine&s;&s;e (&s;o far that I want conceptions to expre&s;&s;e how much I am therefore bound to you) is lyable to more objections then you imagine; For you my Lord are already married many years &s;ince: yours and my Co&s;en <HI>Bru|nichilde</HI> being appointed to be your Spou&s;e. I know it by your Fa|thers will, who long &s;ince revealed this &s;ecret to mine, neither is a|ny thing expected for the publication thereof but maturity of yeares. Therefore I humbly be&s;eech you, that continuing your gracious in|clination towards me under &s;ome other title, you will a&s;&s;ure your &s;elf that <HI>Liarta</HI> (being not to attain &s;o high a happine&s;&s;e as to be your wife) will adore you all the daies of her life (which can be but &s;hort) as the mo&s;t obliged &s;ervant and va&s;&s;all that ever you are like to have. The Prince was &s;o grieved at &s;o unexpected an an&s;wer, that through &s;orrow he had like to have been be&s;ide him&s;elf. And though he knew I had not &s;poken this ca&s;ually, yet hee would under&s;tand me better, examining me more particularly concerning it. But having apprehended how, <HI>Brunichildes</HI> Education, and other circum&s;tances, did Iumpe with this my advice, he took my hand and mo&s;t affectio|nately ki&s;&s;ing it &s;aid, Lady and Mi&s;tri&s;&s;e, Since fortune pretends to
<PB N="25" REF="16">oppo&s;e me, with an oppo&s;ition by me not imagined, I purpo&s;e to reop|po&s;e it, with a re&s;olution the world thinks not of. And taking this Dia|mond which I wear from off his finger, putting it on mine, he &s;aid, <HI>Almadero</HI> e&s;pou&s;eth <HI>Liarta,</HI> in the pre&s;ence of Heaven. He would have proceeded further, when I interrupting him, he &s;tood &s;till to hear me. May it plea&s;e you my Lord (&s;aid I) that this your too courteous re|&s;olution concerning me, being &s;uddain, may remain a while &s;u&s;pended; Till there may be added unto it, if there be any part wanting, either of rea&s;on or coun&s;ell. There can befall me no greater happine&s;&s;e then that of being your wife. But what mi&s;ery &s;hall equall mine, if being made &s;o, if you &s;hall be forced to for&s;ake me for another by the ju&s;t obedience due to your Father? He again ki&s;&s;ing me, an&s;wered, Take you no care for that Lady. My Father may deny you me, but can ne|ver force any other upon me. You are mine, and I yours. And if this marriage &s;hould have any &s;uch hard fortune as not to be publi&s;hed during my Fathers life; I &s;hall notwith&s;tanding neverthele&s;&s;e not ab|&s;tain from loving, re&s;pecting, and courteou&s;ly entreating of you. All this might have been confuted by me with very good rea&s;ons, which would not have failed me, but ardent love tryanni&s;ing over me would not &s;uffer me to do it, per&s;wading me, that if my good coun&s;ells &s;hould take effect, they would prove mo&s;t pernicious to me, &s;eeing my death would certainly through grief en&s;ue. Remaining then in this manner wife to <HI>Almadero,</HI> I would not permit him to con&s;um|mate the marriage unle&s;&s;e he fir&s;t gave my brothers notice thereof; which he deferred not, thinking the hour too long a comming in which he &s;hould po&s;&s;e&s;&s;e me; It being come, our delights increa&s;ed as the difficulties and dangers grew of his being with me. So that he lan|gui&s;hed by rea&s;on he could not every night &s;teal to me out of the Pa|lace. He had a very faithfull &s;quire who knew this &s;ecret, but he could not alone manage an affair of &s;uch an importance; It not being po&s;&s;ible for Princes to blind the eyes of &s;o many Argus's as they have about them. He would put off his clothes, and go to bed before them all, and would ri&s;e again and put them on, this &s;quire alone helping him; and then he left him alone locked up in his own Chamber where he lay. He went down alone into the Garden, comming out at which door he found my brothers ready, accompanied him and brought him back again. All which could not be done without being buzzed abroad, that the Prince in love with &s;ome Lady went every night out of the Palace. Which though it were very well liked of by the Court, being glad to have an enamoured Prince, was not plea|&s;ing to us; who certain how the ca&s;e was, would have had every one el&s;e to &s;tand in doubt of it. Neither could we ever di&s;cover how this bu&s;ine&s;&s;e &s;hould come to be known, unle&s;&s;e it were that pa&s;&s;ing once through the Garden, and being ca&s;ually &s;een, he had given occa|&s;ion of being watched at other times. For being known by the way, my brothers would likewi&s;e have been known, and con&s;equently the bu&s;ine&s;&s;e would have been di&s;covered, which notwith&s;tanding was never known. The fir&s;t who gave us notice thereof was the &s;quire, be|ing
<PB N="26" REF="17">adverti&s;ed by &s;ome companion of his, who had heard a buzzing of it. He told him, that the noi&s;e thereof being publick, it was im|po&s;&s;ible it &s;hould not at la&s;t (if it was not already) come to the King his Fathers eares, who in ca&s;e he &s;hould de&s;ire to get the truth out of him, as from him who was the mo&s;t intimate of all his &s;er|vants, how &s;hould he alone have been able to deny that which all the world affirmed? He be&s;ought him to refrain going out (&s;ome nights at lea&s;t) to the end that not being taken in the fact, he might have way to lie &s;trongly. This bu&s;ine&s;&s;e di&s;plea&s;ed us both, and the Prince had much adoe to be per&s;waded to follow the &s;quires advice: which if he had not done, the bu&s;ine&s;&s;e would have been di&s;covered at that time: for the King being informed thereof, had already placed &s;pies abroad about the Garden door, to ob&s;erve whither he went, more for curio&s;ity, then any di&s;ta&s;te he took at it. But judging that the&s;e his e&s;capes were &s;ufficient rea&s;ons, to delay no longer, the giving him a wife, and &s;eeing al&s;o that he being advi&s;ed of the waits which were laid for him, he &s;taid at home, commending his cautelou&s;ne&s;&s;e, hee &s;ent for him, and without taking notice of any &s;uch matter, &s;aid un|to him; Son, I have &s;ent for you for a mo&s;t important (but plea&s;ing) bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, nature &s;o requiring, and your youth leading me to it. I am old, and it is the property of &s;uch an age to de&s;ire (as a Father) to &s;ee my &s;ucce&s;&s;ion &s;ecured, not onely in your &s;elf and your brother, but in you, and your po&s;terity: Which done &s;hall I die contented. I am re&s;olved to give you a wife, which for conformity of blood, age, and beauty, you cannot chu&s;e but very well like of. The Prince (who a long time &s;ince had with our mutuall advice concluded what an&s;wer to make to &s;uch a reque&s;t) readily replied, Sir, The bu&s;i|ne&s;&s;e which your Maje&s;ty propounds unto me, if it were not of &s;uch importancy as you tell me, and with tho&s;e priviledges which are an|nexed to it, the Authority of Lord and Father, yea, your onely beck of inclination and de&s;ire, &s;hould have had power to make me obedi|ent. Wherefore (if your Maje&s;tie plea&s;e) I will be ready to &s;ubmit my &s;elf unto this yoak; which of it &s;elf heavy, I imagine would be mo&s;t in&s;upportable, if it &s;hould &s;o happen, that the wife &s;hould not prove according to the husbands mind. Which &s;eeing it may &s;o be, I humbly beg of your Maje&s;ty: that if I &s;hould not like of her whom you &s;hall propound unto me, you will give me leave to chu&s;e me one; &s;eeing that in the ca&s;ting of this dye con&s;i&s;ts the chance of my good or evill. The King, who expected from his Son an ab&s;olute and not conditionall obedience: did very di&s;ta&s;tfully receive this an&s;wer; con|ceiving by it and the relations he had heard, that his love had been drawn after &s;ome evill con&s;equences. But di&s;&s;embling what he &s;u&s;|pected, he replied without any &s;ign of alteration: Prince <HI>Almadero,</HI> I held you to be more di&s;creet towards me, then you are, and that you had a better opinion of me then you have: but I pardon you, though you accu&s;e me, as old of &s;mall prudency, and as a Father, of want of affection. This believing me to be ill advi&s;ed, and void of love in a thing which &s;o much imports you, proceeds from your own being ill
<PB N="27" REF="17">advi&s;ed, and want of love in your &s;elfe: You pretend the chu&s;ing of a Wife to belong to you, but upon what grounds? of Law, or of Nature? if of Nature, it may either be good or evill, well or ill in|clined. If evill, the Lawes have power to correct it; if good, it can|not be good, unle&s;&s;e the effects thereof be good: if upon the ground of the Lawes, what are tho&s;e Lawes, Common, or Particular? If common, take heed they be not again&s;t you. If particular, of what Nation &s;hall they be? of our own, by no meanes. If others, you may peradventure hit upon &s;ome which will make you three times more your Fathers &s;lave, and render him ab&s;olute Lord over all your actions, Wife, Children; yea of your very life, and death. Nature &s;et you in the world by meanes of a Father, nouri&s;hes you by him, and by him puts you in the way of action.</P>
<P>And if in brute bea&s;ts, the Mothers care doe la&s;t until the time of the young ones material &s;ub&s;i&s;tency, to the end they may not be abando|ned: why &s;hall it not be the &s;ame in men, till they have got a perfect &s;ub&s;i&s;tency of rea&s;on, by which onely man is able to govern him&s;elfe? Nature permits not liberty of marriage in any man, unle&s;&s;e the nup|tialls be fir&s;t contracted by her &s;elf, together with his owne perfect judgement: neither is that man of perfect judgement, who pretends to emancipate him&s;elfe from his Fathers obedience. The Lawes (if a Father by death comes to faile) give tutors till the age of five and twenty yeares; and &s;hall you who are &s;carce fifteen, your Father be|ing alive, and a King, pretend to have free will in a thing which hath in your age no rea&s;on nor end, but plea&s;ure, and &s;ence? fountaines of beatitude to delight, but in humane actions, two mo&s;t unfaithful and fooli&s;h Councellers. The Wife which I intend to give you, is <HI>Bruni|childe,</HI> a noble and beautifull maid. Could I chu&s;e you a better? <HI>Al|demero,</HI> who at his Fathers angry words, full of humility, had ca&s;t him&s;elf upon his knees, ki&s;&s;ing his hand to mitigate his wrath, an&s;wer|ed, Sir, I confe&s;&s;e I erre in many things: and if in this particular I have committed a fault again&s;t your Maje&s;ty (as I que&s;tion not, &s;ee|ing your Maje&s;ty hath been plea&s;ed to repute it &s;uch) I mo&s;t humbly begge your pardon and though I do not of my &s;elf de&s;erve it, let the error it &s;elf make me worthy of it, which being of ignorance, ought to be remi&s;&s;ible. But as for the reverence which I owe unto your Royal Maje&s;tie, I be&s;eech you not to have any &s;uch opinion of me, although the confidence which I have in your goodne&s;&s;e, and father|ly tenderne&s;&s;e (which I have alwaies found to mine ineffable con|tent) &s;hould make me againe &s;eem to erre in alledging rea&s;ons for my &s;elfe, and make me appeare as it were contumacious. I doe not pre|tend to have any choice or election in any thing, unle&s;&s;e it be by you granted me through your beignity: which being laid as a founda|tion, let your Maje&s;ty give me leave to tell you, that Nature can not be corrected by any Law, it being the fountaine from which all lawes derive: neither ought that Law be e&s;teemed good, which any way oppo&s;es or declines from that nature. But if your Maje&s;tie meanes by nature, evill inclinations, the difference is as great as it is bigge&s;t in
<PB N="28" REF="18">things which have no analogy nor &s;imilitude at all among&s;t them|&s;elves; &s;o that if it were granted to have recour&s;e unto nature, I would have recour&s;e to that which gives, and not to that which re|ceives Lawes. As for the other, which are u&s;ed according to the dif|ferent in&s;titutes of particular Nations, I will confe&s;&s;e none of them to be unju&s;t, but &s;uch as any way derogate from fatherly authority: yet among&s;t all tho&s;e, there is not one which gives them leave to ap|point wives for their Sonnes which are not plea&s;ing to them. Yea the divine Law, &s;etting her hand to this, doth declare invalid, all mar|riages which are contracted without the mutuall con&s;ent of tho&s;e who are e&s;pou&s;ed and knit together; a manife&s;t argument, that if Fa|thers authority alone were &s;ufficient, &s;uch a con&s;ent would be unne|ce&s;&s;ary. I conclude therefore (alwaies &s;aving the re&s;pects due to fa|therly obedience, which I will never exclude, nor that of parity of blood and hone&s;ty) the father cannot without inju&s;tice, deny to &s;atis|fie his Son in &s;o ju&s;t a reque&s;t, and that if he do not &s;o, it is no longer authority (but to &s;peak truth) a fatherly tyranny. As for the choice you have made of my Cozen <HI>Brunichilde,</HI> I confe&s;&s;e your Maje&s;ty could not have made it better, being con&s;idered meerely of it &s;elfe. But ma|ny things, though good, are not alwayes good in all men, and the love which I bear unto her, being become profe&s;&s;e in the habit of Brother|hood, will not &s;uffer me to put on a &s;econd habit &s;o contrary to the fir&s;t. The pa&s;&s;ages which are made from one, being to another, though by chance they may be ea&s;ie, yet they are in Nature either impo&s;&s;ible or mon&s;trous. Her infantile e&s;tate, cannot but be again&s;t my &s;tomack: Every one will thinke us coupled together rather to make babies, then get Children: and I being bound to love my wife, (&s;eeing without a fervent affection, marriages are unfortunate) mine will be mo&s;t unhappy, &s;eeing that under that title, I &s;hall never be able to love her. The neerene&s;&s;e of blood al&s;o which is between us, &s;hould not pa&s;&s;e for an incon&s;iderable argument, for we &s;ee foales begotten by &s;tallions, upon Mares of the &s;ame race, (though they be very hand&s;ome) prove ill favoured and degenerous; and &s;hall we think nature by the &s;ame unknown rea&s;on, may not work the &s;ame in us, &s;o that imagining to beget Children, it may produce mon&s;ters? But grant that this doe not follow (&s;eeing that we, divers in kinds, may be diver&s;ly di&s;po&s;ed, which generally is not &s;o, rationability not ma|king this difference: let it be lawful for me, Sir, humbly to aske you, what nece&s;&s;ity is there for me to take &s;uch a Childe to wife again&s;t my will, &s;eeing by her we contract no affinity with Princes, we ob|taine no benefits of &s;tate, no friend&s;hips, no peaces, nor any &s;uch things. Wherefore there being no urgent cau&s;e for it, why &s;hall not the urgency of my &s;atisfaction prevaile, e&s;pecially with &s;o ju&s;t a King, and &s;o loving a Father? and al&s;o if you will be &s;atisfied with my marrying one of our own blood, will you be plea&s;ed to let the In|fanta <HI>Liarta</HI> be &s;he; for &s;he being a Prince&s;&s;e endowed with all man|ner of vertues which may cau&s;e a woman to be beloved, I will in no wi&s;e refu&s;e her. The King had all this while with delight hearkned
<PB N="29" REF="18">to his Sonne without any alteration at all, when at this la&s;t period he did hang down his head, and having a while bethought him, he ro&s;e, and without any more &s;peaking went away from him. <HI>Almadero</HI> &s;tood a&s;toni&s;hed at this act, and withdrawing, pre&s;ently writ to me what had happened: and I taking it for a bad augury, writ to him againe, praying him for the pre&s;ent, to forbeare his nightly voyages, till time &s;hould level the way to us for &s;ome more mature deliberation. The King, in whom age and practi&s;e had refined his natural pruden|cie, pre&s;ently imagined after he had named me, how the ca&s;e &s;tood; and were it his zeale to be obeyed, or my Brethrens nature by him ab|horred, and who he believed would become in&s;upportable by this marriage, he fully re&s;olved not to &s;uffer the going forward of it: and too late repenting, his cau&s;ing me to come to Court, he re&s;olved to vend me away from it, by pre&s;ently marrying me away. <HI>Lu&s;itania</HI> hath for &s;ome hundred years, po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ed all that Country which lies between the two Rivers of <HI>Ana,</HI> and <HI>Betis,</HI> the King, my Grandfather, having conquered it in his youth, the faire City of <HI>Hi&s;palis</HI> being compre|hended therein; whence many Warres had en&s;ued, &s;mothered up through wearine&s;s, rather then by any accord or peace made. Now the King of it treated of giving his Daughter to <HI>Almadero,</HI> and the ce&s;|&s;ion of all his pretended rights in that Country for a Dowry. Where|unto <HI>Viriato</HI> would never a&s;&s;ent, it &s;eeming to him an unworthy act, to confe&s;&s;e that not to be his, which by his Fathers valour, was here|ditarily fallen to him. Now changing his deliberation, he thought to deprive him&s;elfe thereof upon mine occa&s;ion, intending my marriage with the Prince of <HI>Betica,</HI> &s;hould take me off from pretending that of his Sonne, and his pretences to mine, being already married. <HI>Alma|dero,</HI> on the other &s;ide, intended what&s;oever &s;hould come of it, to break off this treati&s;e, re&s;olved (being &s;o advi&s;ed by my brothers) to &s;end thither likewi&s;e as privately as po&s;&s;ibly be could. And having to that end made choice of a favourite he had called <HI>Dragillo,</HI> he gave him Letters of credence, commanding him di&s;gui&s;ed to make all the &s;peed he could to get to <HI>Betica</HI> before the Amba&s;&s;adors arrival thither. His Commi&s;&s;ion being to repre&s;ent unto that King, that the Propo&s;itions which were to be made to him by his Fathers Amba&s;&s;a|dor, would be of none effect, being without his or the &s;tates con|&s;ent. That the intere&s;t was publique, belonging both to him and them: &s;eeing it was therein treated of di&s;membring that part of the Kingdome, which (though anciently belonging to <HI>Betica</HI>) was late|ly joyned and annexed to the <HI>Lu&s;itanian</HI> Crown, and con&s;equently in&s;eparable from it, without the &s;ame authority, by which it was formerly by a decree united. That the Infanta <HI>Liarta,</HI> was not ca|pable of marriage out of the Kingdome, becau&s;e the &s;ucce&s;&s;ion fal|ling to her (as it might for want of other Heirs) the Kingdome would never have endured a Forrainers Government. That the&s;e rea|&s;ons taking no effect, he &s;hould alledge the&s;e other two, of which the fir&s;t &s;hould be of advice, the &s;econd of proffer. Of advice, that <HI>Liarta</HI> was already married, and with child. Of proffer, that if he
<PB N="30" REF="19">would not give ear to his Father <HI>Viriato,</HI> he promi&s;ed him by the faith of a Prince, Solemnly to re&s;tore unto him with the authority of the States, after his Fathers decea&s;e, without any condition, that which now was by him proffered under condition of this marriage. That if he would do him this favour, be&s;ides the profit which would re|dound, he &s;hould ever remain much obliged to him; proffering him a perpetuall, reall, and undoubted amitie. I heard of this expedition by my brothers after it was made, and took &s;uch grief at it, that it had like to have co&s;t me my life. Judging that if there were a nece&s;&s;ity of preci|pitating the bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, there had been le&s;&s; evil to reveal it to the King his Father, then, with &s;o much dammage and &s;hame, to his enemies: For be&s;ides that, prudence would have advi&s;ed him to make a vertue of nece&s;&s;ity: &s;eeing that the bu&s;ine&s;&s;e being irrevocable, he would not have been &s;o much offended as he was: offence joined with a certainty of making him an irreconcileable enemy. Be&s;ides, he la&s;t proffer was mo&s;t impertinent and &s;uperfluous. There being no likelyhood that I &s;hould bee accepted for a wife, after the advice was given that I was married and with child. The King had rea&s;on to hate my brothers: who wholly degenerating from my Father, breathed nothing but avarices, expecting but the hour to govern, yea to &s;wallow up their Uncle, the Kingdom, their Cozen, and my &s;elf. I laboured, as much as in me lay, to make them &s;ee the fooli&s;h ob&s;tinacy of their Councills; But perceiving it was in vain to hope to retain water in a &s;ive, I re&s;olved to write to the Prince, be|&s;eeching him to call <HI>Dragillo</HI> back. But hee unfortunate being e&s;pied and pur&s;ued, was taken with his letters and in&s;tructions, not above halfe a daies journey from <HI>Oli&s;ipho:</HI> Which being read by <HI>Viriato</HI> he alte|red his purpo&s;e, the bu&s;ine&s;&s;e being changed: recalling his Am|ba&s;&s;adour which was not gone far, and demanding of the Prince the Key of his &s;tudy, per&s;wading him&s;elf that there he &s;hould have found other things, He met with the rough draft of the in&s;truction written by one of my brothers own hands, and with other letters of mine, that which I had la&s;t of all written to him, which onely had power to ju&s;tifie me. For being certified by the in&s;tructions that his &s;on was married to me; and <HI>Dragillo</HI> his confe&s;&s;ion upon the rack, that he was &s;ent by the advi&s;e of my brethren: His anger was &s;o great, that if they had not fled upon the advice of this impri&s;onment, he would irremi&s;|&s;ibly have put them pre&s;ently to death, as he did <HI>Dragillo</HI> for the fir&s;t act of our Tragedie, Sending me for the &s;econd, with a good guard, into a &s;trong Ca&s;tle between the River <HI>Tagus</HI> and <HI>Ana,</HI> called <HI>Leuci|ana.</HI> The Prince being in an in&s;tant &s;truck with an a&s;toni&s;hment by the death of his &s;ervant, the flight of his Kin&s;men, and mine impri&s;on|ment, was like to be ca&s;t down; For finding his Father inexorable to|wards <HI>Dragillo,</HI> not &s;atisfied by his confe&s;&s;ing him&s;elf to be onely guilty, and worthy of death, nor offering his own life to &s;ave the o|thers; Per&s;wading him&s;elf hee would u&s;e the &s;ame rigor towards my per&s;on as he had done towards <HI>Dragillo,</HI> he took his bed, and had &s;uch &s;ymptomes, that it was thought many times he would have died. So
<PB N="31" REF="19">that the King (though once re&s;olved not to &s;ee him) could not con|tain him&s;elf from vi&s;iting him, and mitigating his grief, by promi&s;ing he would not proceed to any further puni&s;hment with me: the pre|&s;ent being by him termed but a correction. He took heart, more through anxiety of de&s;iring to &s;ave me, then any de&s;ire he had to live, he did, within &s;ome few daies, for&s;ake his bed. In the mean time, the ca&s;e being divulged as it was, mo&s;t men did judge that the King had proceeded therin with more pa&s;&s;ion then rea&s;on, generally co~demning his re&s;olution of taking from the Crown &s;o noble a member, acquired with the &s;ubjects blood, under the conduct of the King his Father; That though the Prince had the &s;ame re&s;olution, he was excu&s;able, as young, re&s;olved thereunto by force, and having taken longer time to do it, and not excluded the vote of the States. That his taking me to wife was an act of great prudencie, I being &s;ufficient to govern the Kingdom, and to &s;et him in the way, of &s;o doing, if his Father &s;hould chance to die. There being no other Princes of the blood but my bro|thers, who would have been debarred from all licentiou&s;ne&s;&s;e if I were Queen. The rea&s;on of common intere&s;ts by blood, giving me authority to govern them. Whereas without my re&s;pect, with their prerogative they might have put all to confu&s;ion. And would have done it, if <HI>Brunichilde</HI> a child had been preferred before <HI>Liarta</HI> a wo|man. <HI>Deviaco</HI> his vertues were rehear&s;ed, his valour, and the &s;ervi|ces he had done. That the &s;ame worth was in me, and would be no otherwi&s;e; being a fruit of &s;uch a plant, nouri&s;hed, and cultivated by him. But if &s;uch di&s;cour&s;es were &s;o free in City and Country, they were no le&s;&s;e at Court. I and my brothers favoured, if not for our own &s;akes, yet for our Father his de&s;erts: and <HI>Almadero</HI> exceeding well beloved as ever any Prince was; So that <HI>Viriato</HI> in a day remain|ed in a manner excluded out out of all mens hearts. But he holding his authority &s;ufficient to doe, cared little what liberty other men took in &s;peaking. Yet he fixed a deep di&s;plea&s;ure in his heart, and took notice of the per&s;ons who did &s;o: but time not permitting him to manife&s;t his re&s;entment, he concealed it; re&s;olving how&s;oever to be obeyed, and to di&s;anul my marriage, though I was with child. So much doth the jealou&s;ie of Empire prevail in Princes. And in effect all the&s;e di&s;turbances had no other Origine; for the que&s;tion being of two, who were both Neeces: the di&s;advantage which he pretended on my &s;ide, was the &s;u&s;picion of my brethrens greatne&s;&s;e he being alive. Which di&s;advantage was counterpoi&s;ed by this advantage, that he dying, the State remained quiet, and peaceable by mine occa|&s;ion, there being no que&s;tion that by the other marriageal would have been turned up&s;ide down, whereas by my marriage there was no rea&s;on to fear any trouble, the Princes and my oppo&s;ition being &s;uffi|cient to cau&s;e them to live in peace. They in the mean time being re|tired to their own home, in their own conceipts &s;ecure from any di&s;turbance, heard pre&s;ently of mine impri&s;onment, the execution of <HI>Dragillo,</HI> and a thundering edict again&s;t them&s;elves, being proclaimed &s;educers of the Prince, di&s;turbers of the publick peace, and guilty of
<PB N="32" REF="20">trea&s;on. Their Lands forfeited to the Crown, their per&s;ons bani&s;hed upon paine of death, with large rewards for tho&s;e who &s;hould bring them either alive, or dead, which proved the Bellowes to kindle their rage; For thinking them&s;elves to be too evill intreated, con&s;i|dering their quality, too rigorou&s;ly in compari&s;on of their offence, and without any accompt made of their humiliations interpo&s;ed by meanes of friends, they were moved with &s;uch di&s;daine, that they re&s;olved their Uncles death, which not po&s;&s;ible to be obtained any other way, they purpo&s;ed to purcha&s;e with their own ruines, having no re&s;pect or regard of me, the Prince, or Kingdom.</P>
<P>They fir&s;t re&s;olved to &s;et forth a &s;tinging Declaration to &s;tirre up the &s;ubjects hearts, then having rai&s;ed a &s;ufficient Army, with the &s;ecret a&s;&s;i&s;tance of the <HI>Tingitanian,</HI> they &s;o troubled for three months that flouri&s;hing Country, that the King forced by the imminent re|bellions, rather then by his Councils advice, recalled his Proclama|tions, and penalties: Conditionally that laying downe their armes, they &s;hould crave pardon of him, which they did being ab&s;ent: not laying down their wrath, nor de&s;irous of vengeance. It being mani|fe&s;tly perceived, that what he had conde&s;cended unto, was but through meer violence, to accommodate him&s;elfe to the times. See|ing that otherwi&s;e, he retained his former rigidne&s;&s;e towards me, the Prince, and them&s;elves: they not being able to obtaine among&s;t the articles of peace, that of my deliverance: having mitigated the ef|fects of his cruelty, by &s;aying it was not fit that any &s;hould &s;et him down a law how to puni&s;h his Children, and putting me into that number, &s;ought to allure our hopes by &s;uch a title, to the end hee might be the better able to deceive us. The Prince who out of his naturall goodne&s;&s;e, had till then expected with patience, the ebbing of his Fathers wrath, finding in this occa&s;ion the mo&s;t forcible of all, that he expected in vaine, was like to fall into de&s;paire; and be|ing able to endure any thing, &s;ave onely my ab&s;ence, he re&s;olved to free me at any price. On a day after he had revolved many thoughts in his heart, kneeling before his Father, he &s;aid, Sir, I am now almo&s;t &s;ixteen yeares of age compleat: Neither is there any Prince of my age, that &s;tayes &s;o long at home at ea&s;e. Wherefore I have delibe|rated to be&s;eech you, to give me leave to goe abroad, being an ar|med Knight, de&s;iring to receive this Order by no other more valiant, or happilier pre&s;aging hand then yours. And if my former mi&s;-for|tunes &s;hould peradventure make you believe that my re&s;olution were upon any other occa&s;ion, I &s;hould not altogether deny it hoping I &s;hould not wholly di&s;plea&s;e you, if I &s;hould doe as tho&s;e &mdash; which in raine come forth of the &mdash; and goe in againe in faire weather. The raine of di&s;ta&s;ts, which by mine ill fortune (yet &s;ore a|gain&s;t mine intention) I have to my extreame &s;orrow occa&s;ioned in you, invite me to &s;pend &s;ome time voluntarily abroad: Till mine actions, and a manife&s;t penitency, afford me the cleare and &s;erene skie of your favour. His Father rejoycing at this his re&s;olution (in hope that the diver&s;ity of Climates would alter his Sonnes affections,
<PB N="33" REF="20">not con&s;idering that amorous forces have power not onely to change nature, but al&s;o to reduce innocency and &s;implicity, to malice and cunning) very well contented an&s;wered; Prince, I commend your re&s;olution, and am therewith &s;atisfied, I being ready al&s;o to give you &s;atisfaction in any thing wherein vertue &s;hall be your aime. I will arme you Knight, hoping, that having laid a&s;ide the &mdash; of your owne Hou&s;e for &s;ome time, you will for ever lay a&s;ide that which with too bold an ob&s;tinacy you had taken upon you, again&s;t the re|&s;pect due to my obedience. <HI>Almadero</HI> would make no reply, fearing to overthrow his de&s;ignes; But ki&s;&s;ing his hand was within three dayes, with much &s;olemnity made Knight, <HI>Brunichilde</HI> (being &s;o com|manded) girding on his &s;word. And the next day armed, having taken leave of tho&s;e who accompanied him, feignedly directed his cour&s;e towards <HI>Gaule,</HI> as he had made his father, and all the Court believe. My Brothers having heard of his departure, were extreamly grieved at it, firmly believing, that the marriage being voided, and I lo&s;t mine honour, (mother of a Ba&s;tard to the Kingdome of <HI>Lu&s;ita|nia</HI>) they would for ever remaine infamous. Wherefore, if before they were incen&s;ed again&s;t their Uncle, their evill talent was now much increa&s;ed, thinking that his very life would &s;carce be &s;ufficient recompence for their wronged honours: and knowing that would di&s;plea&s;e <HI>Almadero,</HI> they thought I &s;hould be &s;ufficient to appea&s;e him. Or that fortified in his ab&s;ence, they would at his returne trouble and tire him, and peradventure deprive him of the Crown, concep|tions which would all ea&s;ily enter into their corrupt imaginations. <HI>Almadero,</HI> as &s;oon as he &s;aw him&s;elfe deprived of their advices, be|came intimate with <HI>Philarchus</HI> a young Knight, but of as good un|der&s;tanding as any could be of his age, with whom having conferred about his de&s;ignes, he cau&s;ed him to aske leave of his Father many dayes before he craved licence for him&s;elfe, under the &s;ame pretence of &s;eeking adventures, who having obtained it, went out of <HI>Lu&s;ita|nia,</HI> entring in the Kingdome of <HI>Castile,</HI> &s;taying there unknown, till the comming of <HI>Almadero,</HI> who being come, he took his armes from him and put them on, giving him many Letters dated from tho&s;e places which lay in the way to <HI>Gaule,</HI> to &s;end them to the King by the ordinary me&s;&s;engers. So that if <HI>Viriato</HI> &s;hould have imagined his Son to lie lurking in <HI>Lu&s;tiania,</HI> he might be put out of &s;uch thoughts, by the continuall advices he received from him. <HI>Almadero</HI> therefore ha|ving pull'd off his armes, as I &s;aid, clothed him&s;elfe in a pa&s;torall habite. And having pa&s;&s;ed over the River <HI>Tagus,</HI> left his E&s;quire in a remote place farre out of the way, re-entring into <HI>Lu&s;itania</HI> alone towards the Ca&s;tle where I was kept, whither he arrived without any di&s;turbance in few dayes afoot, lightlier, and with more ea&s;e, then another would have done, though accu&s;tomed to long journeys. His Father had cau&s;ed him to be watched, till he was gone out of the Kingdome. But tho&s;e who had order &s;o to doe, ob&s;erving that hee had taken through <HI>Ca&s;tile</HI> the right way to <HI>Gaule,</HI> returned, bringing with them the fir&s;t Letters which he had left in the hands of the Go|vernour
<PB N="34" REF="21">who was appointed upon tho&s;e Frontires. This his bold re|&s;olution had fortune only for its ba&s;is and foundation. For <HI>Dorcallo</HI> Captain and Keeper of <HI>Leuciana</HI> was mo&s;t faithfull to the King, though he had before been a mo&s;t affectionate &s;ervant to my Father. So that it was impo&s;&s;ible without him he &s;hould either &s;peak with me, or let me &s;o much as know he was in the Country.</P>
<P>And I, though my windowes being near the wall, enjoyed the pro&s;pect of the fields, never looked out. My onely comfort being to be continually accompanied by bitter tears, and heart-breaking &s;ighes. But what thing can be &s;o difficult that doth not become ea&s;ie, or &s;o hard, that may not be penetrated by love? He devi&s;ed to be|come acquainted with a certain &s;hepheard dwelling there clo&s;e by, and having told him &s;ome tales of a mother in law he had, and having given him &s;ome pieces of Gold, as in depo&s;ite to a&s;&s;ure him of his &s;er|vice, he obtained of him the keeping of his flock; and driving it out to feed into the Ca&s;tle dike, as he had &s;een his ma&s;ter do, he began to cry aloud <HI>Lilla, Lilla,</HI> as if he had called back &s;ome one of his &s;heep, which had been disbanding from the re&s;t, and ca&s;ting clodds of earth after it with the paddle end of his &s;taffe as true &s;hepheards do, cea&s;ed not, replying the &s;ame word. The King when he &s;ent me to pri&s;on, had taken away all my men, and maiden &s;ervants, &s;ave onely this one whom you &s;ee here, called <HI>Dorilla.</HI> She by chance &s;tanding at the window, and &s;etting her eye upon &s;uch a hand&s;ome youth, was &s;o &s;a|tisfied (to not &s;ay taken) therewith, that &s;he could not refrain com|ming pre&s;ently to me to tell me, how there was come over again&s;t our Balcone the hand&s;ome&s;t young &s;hepheard that ever was &s;een, very bu&s;ie with a di&s;obedient &s;tubborn &s;heep, which hee ince&s;&s;antly was calling back to come to the re&s;t by the name of <HI>Lilla;</HI> a name indeed which of it &s;elf was of a gentile &s;ound; but e&s;pecially being uttered by &s;uch a pretty mouth: And having told me &s;o much, &s;he de&s;ired me to come to the window to take a little fre&s;h air and recreate my &s;elfe. I hearing that name, found my &s;elf moved at it. <HI>Lilla</HI> being my &s;elf, &s;o formerly called in je&s;t by <HI>Almadero</HI> in our amorous di&s;cour&s;es. I a|ro&s;e and looked out, feigning I did it onely to give her &s;atisfaction. I was no &s;ooner come thither to look whither it were he or no, but he &s;aw me, turning his eyes towards the window, feighning I did it onely to give her &s;atisfaction. I was no &s;ooner come thither to look whither it were he or no, but he &s;aw me, turning his eyes towards the window, feigning to turn them another way. He did not for a long time call upon the figurative <HI>Lilla,</HI> the true one, which he &s;o much de&s;ired, being come in his &s;ight. But taking breath a while, af|ter this unexpected joy, in a ru&s;tick manner pulling off his hat to me; he began again with a more cheerfull voice to call upon the &s;heep: which cau&s;ed &s;o much plea&s;ure to me, that it was &s;ufficient in an in|&s;tant to make me forget all the mi&s;eries I had formerly &s;uffered. Oh how willingly would I have &s;poken to him, if I had not feared. I doubted my Damzell had known him: but &s;he who fed onely upon looking on him, the image of <HI>Almadero</HI> being far from her imagina|tion,
<PB N="35" REF="21">could not contain from doing of her &s;elf that, which peradven|ture &s;he would not have done if I had reque&s;ted her. She asked him how he dur&s;t adventure to come and feed his Flock in the Ca&s;tle dike without the Captains leave? He holding up his head, but with his hat drawn down clo&s;e over his eyes, an&s;wered, Lady, the &s;hepheard my ma&s;ter hath &s;ufficient leave. Such Ca&s;tles as the&s;e, e&s;pecially in time of peace, are not &s;o &s;trictly looked unto. And hath not the Captain him|&s;elf a Garden planted and manured in the dike next to the Ca&s;tle gate? And be&s;ides, Captaines do not u&s;e to fear or mi&s;tru&s;t men of our trade, <HI>Almadero</HI> could not frame him&s;elf to &s;o much Ru&s;ticity, but that <HI>Dorilla</HI> pre&s;ently perceived that his language and idiome was not common. Wherefore having asked him whence he was, he an&s;wering her of <HI>Ca&s;tile,</HI> &s;he no more marvelled at it; that language, e&s;pecially in compari&s;on of the Lu&s;itanian, being the &s;weete&s;t and po|lite&s;t language of all <HI>Iberia.</HI> Whil&s;t &s;he with great content &s;tood lean|ing upon the Balcone talking with him, I had time, &s;tanding behind her, to make &s;ignes to him, that I knew him. She asking him why he was come out of his own Country? To recover my <HI>Lilla,</HI> &s;aid he. Have you her not then replied &s;he. Is not that it you took even now &s;uch paines with, to bring her back to the re&s;t? I have her not (an|&s;wered he) though &s;he be alwaies with me; My ma&s;ter takes her a|way from me. But I will have her again what&s;oever it co&s;t me, becau&s;e &s;he may be mine own, and not anothers; And what will you give him for her? &s;aid <HI>Dorilla.</HI> To which he an&s;wered; a years wages if he would ask it. She asking him how much his wages was? he an&s;wered, hee knew not: But my <HI>Lilla,</HI> &s;aid he, would not be &s;o much worth as &s;he is, if I or others could limit her price. But you Lady might peradven|ture by your authority procure that I might have her, which if you would do, I &s;hould be &s;o much bound to you, that <HI>Lilla</HI> and I would remain yours all the daies of our life, and would reward you in &s;uch manner as you &s;hould e&s;teem your &s;elf happy. <HI>Dorilla</HI> laughed at the young &s;hepheards &s;imagined implicity: neither would &s;he have gone from thence, if I (fearing &s;ome misfortune) had not commanded her to come away. Wherefore being con&s;trained &s;o to do: She went away with an ill will, having fir&s;t promi&s;ed the &s;hepehard to do what &s;hee could for the re&s;titution of his <HI>Lilla:</HI> which hee much rejoyced at, made her new proffers, which in &s;uch a per&s;on as he was, &s;eemed to corre&s;pond to the re&s;t of his imagined follies. Having withdrawn my &s;elf far more unwilingly then <HI>Dorilla,</HI> I diligently examined the mean|of all <HI>Almaderoes</HI> &s;peeches, found that hee having an intent to get me away from thence, judged it could not well be done without my Maid. The danger was great, but I did not fear it, &s;aving my ca&s;e could not be brought to a wor&s;er condition. For if I had died while I was in pri&s;on, it had been a great comfort in pri&s;on, being reduced to live without <HI>Almadero.</HI> Thus I re&s;olved, I would not lo&s;e the occa|&s;ion of &s;peaking to her, wherefore (&s;he being not able to get the &s;up|po&s;ed &s;hepheard out of her mind) I &s;aid to her, Me thinks <HI>Dorilla</HI> thou art &s;trangely taken with this young man. Do not blu&s;h, nor &s;eek
<PB N="36" REF="22">to conceal it from me, for thou can&s;t not. Who knowes but that his internall condition (which others &s;ee not) be not far different from his externall, and his cour&s;e habit? Truely I cannot believe but hee is &s;ome great mans &s;on, for it &s;eems impo&s;&s;ible that a meer Country fellow, &s;hould be endowed with &s;o much beauty, and &s;uch gracious behaviour. Whereunto &s;he an&s;wered: Madam, I am not yet come to that pa&s;&s;e as you imagine: for though beauty be the object of love, (e&s;pecially a &s;ingular one as this mans is) yet it doth not alwaies take one effect. And you (Madam) find it at the pre&s;ent in your &s;elf. Though not &s;tung as (to not di&s;&s;emble) I confe&s;&s;e I am. Imparitie is of too great importancie to a woman that e&s;teems her reputation; for if &s;he &s;hould make choice of a husband of ba&s;e condition, it being an argument of lubricitie in her, would make her abominable in o|ther womens &s;ights. I mu&s;t confe&s;&s;e (Madam) that were he not what he is, I &s;hould die with de&s;ire of having him; being as he is, But I mu&s;t &s;acrifice &s;uch a de&s;ire upon the Altars of hone&s;ty and honour. A woman (Madam) that loves, is not to be blamed, affections being naturall. But &s;he is que&s;tionle&s;&s;e prai&s;e-worthy, that loving again&s;t the common Lawes of conveniencie, chu&s;eth rather to die, then give her &s;elfe &s;atisfaction, <HI>Dorilla</HI> uttered all the&s;e rea&s;ons with &s;uch a pa&s;&s;ion, that one might very well apprehend, her greate&s;t pa&s;&s;ion was, that there were rea&s;ons again&s;t it. But her rea&s;ons being not corre&s;pon|dent to mine ends; I was forced to feign I under&s;tood them in ano|ther &s;ence. Wherefore I &s;aid to her, <HI>Dorilla,</HI> I cannot chu&s;e but com|mend thee extreamly, that armed with gentlene&s;&s;e and hone&s;ty, thou &s;eeke&s;t, by overcoming thy &s;elf, to conquer tho&s;e two great powers, Nature and Love. But tell me I pray thee, what woulde&s;t thou infer, when pre&s;uppo&s;ing that beauty the object of Love doth not alwaies attain the &s;ame end; you tell me, I find it in the pre&s;ent occa&s;ion? Thinke&s;t thou that being what I am, I ought to be indiffe|rently &s;ubject to every beauty? knowe&s;t thou not that another beau|ty in condition equall to mine e&s;tate, hath heretofore attained its end in me? whereby (whether I will or no) I come to be freed from the punctures of any new &s;ight what&s;oever? which being &s;o, how much more &s;hal I be free, from being &s;tung by a per&s;on &s;o di&s;proportionable to me; The beauties of Prince <HI>Almadero</HI> have &s;o pricked me already, that I can not be &s;ubject to any further punctures. If that were not, I &s;hould not be here now, nor &s;hould I be &s;ubject to tho&s;e evills, which make me commi&s;erate thine. But if I have &s;uch compa&s;&s;ion on thee, onely moved thereunto by di&s;creet rea&s;on, thou being a woman, &s;ub|ject as well as another to the&s;e pa&s;&s;ions (not putting it to thine ac|compt that we are not obliged, &s;o much as to imagine them to be beauties, which may any way damnifie us in others opinions) why do&s;t not thou compa&s;&s;ionate me, who am &s;o much more worthy of it, then thee, as in my love there is not any thing, can yeeld me any blemi&s;h in any bodies opinion what&s;oever? <HI>Dorilla</HI> was a&s;toni&s;hed at the&s;e words: &s;eeming to her to be &s;poken (as in deed they were) out of the purpo&s;e, and without any rea&s;on. Wherefore being in a great
<PB N="37" REF="22">confu&s;ion &s;he an&s;wered me. I know not (Madam) why you &s;peake this to me, I never had any intent to offend you, Heaven knowes it and my will ever was, and &s;hall be, to &s;erve you. Mine opinion is not &s;o indi&s;creet, as to believe you &s;ubject to the beauties of a poor &s;hep|heard, Yea, quite the contrary. In the meane time (Madam) plea&s;e you to give me leave to aske you, what you ever di&s;covered in me, that &s;hould make me &s;eem to you without compa&s;&s;ion, and without that pa&s;&s;ionate affection I have to de&s;ire, your ca&s;e may have as hap|py a period as you your &s;elfe can wi&s;h? and if nothing el&s;e can make you believe me, let mine intere&s;ts per&s;wade you, &s;eeing that in your mi&s;adventures, it being my fortune to &s;erve you, I cannot pretend to have any greater reward then from your &s;elfe, nor any hope to attain to it, but by your being Prince&s;&s;e of <HI>Lu&s;itania,</HI> and in time Queene. But if I were &s;o happy, as to have you e&s;teeme mine affections graft|ed upon yours without this ba&s;ene&s;&s;e of intere&s;ts, I &s;hould think my &s;elf already rewarded. Neither is this hard for you to believe, if you will but con&s;ider who you are, the vertues which are in you, and the courte&s;ies wherewith you daily oblige me; for which, if I could a&s;|&s;ure you of my devotion, with deeds be&s;ides words, I would doe it without any re&s;erve, not &s;o much as of my life. I felt &s;uch comfort in this an&s;wer, &s;eeing the words proceeded from her very heart, that having &s;trictly embraced her, and mo&s;t affectionately ki&s;&s;ed her, I &s;aid. My deare <HI>Dorilla,</HI> what I &s;aid was not to charge thee with any thing, (knowing I had no rea&s;on for it) but onely to try thee: &s;o that now tru&s;ting to thine entire fidelity, laying a&s;ide all manner of deceipt, I will di&s;cover all my &s;ecrets unto thee, a&s;&s;uring thee, that if Heaven plea&s;e to favour my ju&s;t de&s;ires, I will acknowledge thy vertuous inclination, with &s;uch termes of honour as are due to ver|tue, and fortune rai&s;ing mine e&s;tate, will &s;o rai&s;e thine, that none that belongs to me &s;hall go beyond thee; &s;he pro&s;trating her &s;elfe to ki&s;&s;e my hand, did rea&s;&s;ure me of her fidelity, &s;pecifying that &s;he e&s;teem|ed her &s;elfe more obliged to me then to the King: I cau&s;ing her to ri&s;e, told her, That her &s;hepheard was my <HI>Almadero:</HI> that the <HI>Lilla</HI> which he would have again was my &s;elfe: the de&s;iring her to inter|cede with her Ma&s;ter was, to a&s;&s;i&s;t with her helping hand in this bu|&s;ine&s;&s;e: and that the offers made in &s;hepheards habit, were to be per|formed in termes of a Prince.</P>
<P>The good Gentlewoman &s;eemed not a whit a&s;toni&s;hed at this my|&s;tery: and after many &s;peeches had pa&s;&s;ed, told me, &s;he had many times in her &s;elfe blamed the Prince, believing (by rea&s;on he &s;tirr'd no way in this occa&s;ion) he had not loved me. And if &s;he had not doubted to augment my grief, &s;he would have told me &s;o. But that now recalling her ill opinion of him, &s;he e&s;teemed him to be the faire&s;t and worthie&s;t Prince on earth. She lauged at her &s;elfe and her love, glorying in that &s;he had &s;o well be&s;towed it, and boa&s;ting of her judgement that had dared to penetrate with her affection under that vile barque, into the pith of &s;uch high de&s;erts. Now having a long time laughed and jea&s;ted about this bu&s;ine&s;s, &s;he proceeded, &s;ay|ing,
<PB N="38" REF="23">That it was impo&s;&s;ible for me to obtaine my liberty, but by &s;ca|ling the walls, which could not then be done, I being &s;o neare my time to be brought to bed: That as &s;oone as I was ea&s;ed of my bur|then, it would ea&s;ily be done, &s;eeing I was accompanied with two &s;uch great Champions, as genero&s;ity and love. That in the meane time I &s;hould &s;et down in a little Letter, what &s;eemed nece&s;&s;ary for me, which &s;hould the next day be thrown down with a &s;tone in it, to the end the Prince might have notice of what was intended to be done. But I asking how we &s;hould doe to come by an an&s;wer? &s;hee an&s;wered me, there needed none. The Prince being able to an&s;wer me by word of mouth, and make him&s;elfe to be under&s;tood as he had done not long &s;ince. But that in the meane time, &s;he would en|deavour to procure <HI>Radimiro</HI> his good will, who was <HI>Dorcalloes</HI> Bro|ther, who made a &s;hew of being de&s;perately in love with her. But &s;he did not hold it expedient to procure it as yet: it being to be pre|&s;uppo&s;ed, that affaires which were dangerous, being communica|ted, had no greater an enemy then delay, which I being nece&s;&s;itated to by rea&s;on of my pre&s;ent unweildine&s;&s;e, it was good to &s;ecure our &s;elves therein by not communicating them; but ju&s;t when the bu&s;i|ne&s;&s;e was to be put in execution, <HI>Dorillaes</HI> wi&s;e propo&s;itions liked me wondrous well. For if <HI>Radimiro</HI> would be faithfull to me then, he would be the like to me now. But it was doubted whether we might tru&s;t him at all at any time. She thinking upon it a little while, an|&s;wered me (Lady) I cannot a&s;&s;ure my &s;elfe of him no further then I have told you: and if nece&s;&s;ity con&s;traine us to tru&s;t &s;ome body, why &s;o long before the time? Peradventure when he knowes the Prince, his pre&s;ence, and his promi&s;es, may prevaile more with him then my words. But what good will this prevention doe, if there be no need of it: It will do good quoth I, for I know the Princes af|fections. He will de&s;ire to come up hither though he fly up, which can not be done, unle&s;&s;e we can gaine the &s;entinel which by night &s;tands here by. Now after many con&s;ultations writing was re&s;olved upon, and if he re&s;olved to come to me, then <HI>Radimiroes</HI> mind was to be tried. We writ, <HI>Aldemero</HI> came, I &s;aluted him in her pre&s;ence, therefore he knew to his great comfort that we were agreed, and ha|ving &s;hewed him the Letter, it was thrown into the Dike to him, having fir&s;t looked all about, beckening to him that he &s;hould be gone. But he returning after dinner, demanded ingre&s;&s;e as I had fore-&s;een he would. I writ to him again, that we knew not how to compa&s;&s;e it, unle&s;&s;e we could win <HI>Radimiro</HI> to our &s;ide, having rela|ted to him the whole de&s;ign. But he returning the next day, he gave us to under&s;tand, that he would not have <HI>Dorilla</HI> to treate with <HI>Ra|dimiro</HI> by any means, but that &s;he &s;hould procure the meeting of the Prince and him. <HI>Radimiro</HI> came every day to vi&s;ite me, being &s;o com|manded by his brother as he told me; but I believe it was rather for love of <HI>Dorilla,</HI> or for &s;ome de&s;igne. For &s;eeing her all alone by me, he might imagine that my bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, being accommodated (as all the world hoped) it would prove an advantagious match for him.
<PB N="39" REF="23">He failed not to come that very day, and ju&s;t at that houre when <HI>Almadero</HI> di&s;ciplinating his &s;heep, was &s;peaking to us. He &s;aid, he brought me news that I &s;hould have a Nur&s;e, a Gentlewoman of very noble behaviour, but poor, and that &s;he would give me very good &s;atisfaction. I was going to give him an an&s;wer, when <HI>Dorilla</HI> inter|rupting us, lead him to the window, asking him, whether Ca&s;tles were kept in that manner, by letting the Enemy at noon day take the Dike, and lodge him&s;elf there with a whole Regiment, pointing at <HI>Almadero</HI> and his flock. <HI>Radimiro</HI> &s;miling at <HI>Dorilaes</HI> je&s;ting, had an|&s;wered her, if fixing his eyes upon the &s;hepheard (who merrily fixed his eye upon him) had not been as it were out of him&s;elf, knowing the Prince, or at lea&s;t a face which was very like him. <HI>Dorilla</HI> &s;eeing him &s;o a&s;toni&s;hed, &s;aid, what aileth you? Doe you want rea&s;ons to an|&s;wer me, as well as courage to defend the counter-&s;carfe? Doe not you &s;ee him ready to a&s;&s;ault the <HI>Cortine,</HI> and having taken it, to take us al&s;o away? <HI>Radimiro</HI> not regarding the&s;e toyes, &s;aid unto me, Ma|dam, you do not &s;ee what I &s;ee? If I were not more then certaine that our Prince is now in <HI>Gaule</HI> (I having &s;poken with &s;uch as met him by the way) I would &s;ay that &s;hepheard were he, di&s;gui&s;ed in tho&s;e ragges. I &s;hall not be &s;o happy, replied &s;he. And looking upon him as if &s;he had not before ob&s;erved him, &s;he an&s;wered, Surely you have very good rea&s;on to &s;ay &s;o, for he is exceeding like him. But if he went away as you &s;ay, how can he now be here? He may very well (an&s;wered <HI>Dorilla</HI>) if he be of the nature of &s;pirits, who are any where they de&s;ire. But if this be he, he had rather be here with us, then among&s;t a company of &s;uch in&s;ipid and fooli&s;h bea&s;ts. <HI>Radi|miro</HI> ob&s;erving the authority wherewith the &s;hepheard looked upon him, began to &s;u&s;pect how it was, and turning towards me againe, &s;aid, Madam, I &s;hould live in too much anxiety, if I did not go pre|fently to look upon that face at a nearer di&s;tance. Doe I pray, &s;aid I, but go by your &s;elf, and &s;ay nothing to any one el&s;e. I'le beware of that, quoth he, neither will &s;peak with him here below for &s;everall good re&s;pects. When he was gone, we beckoned to <HI>Almadero</HI> that he was comming. He pre&s;ently under&s;tood us, as if he had been all his life time accu&s;tomed to &s;peake by &s;ignes. He went away before with his &s;heep, taking the way of the Wood: <HI>Radimiro</HI> following a farre off, never lo&s;ing him out of &s;ight. Being gone out of the way, he &s;taid in a place covered with Trees, expecting him, where <HI>Radi|miro</HI> having over-taken him, knew him pre&s;ently: and having fir&s;t looked about very carefully, he &s;aid, My Lord, Let me crave pardon of your highne&s;&s;e, if I &s;peak in the&s;e Clothes and keep on my Hat: I know you, and therefore fear le&s;t you &s;hould be known by &s;ome bo|dy el&s;e. I imagine the cau&s;e of your comming in this manner; and am here ready to receive your commands, intreating you onely to be more wary: for your royal face is not onely imprinted in the hearts, but in the memory al&s;o of your &s;ubjects, wherefore it will be hard for you to e&s;cape unknown. <HI>Almadero</HI> thanked him for his good will, with &s;uch curteous termes, as would have been impo&s;&s;ible for any
<PB N="40" REF="24">man el&s;e to utter, and &s;aid, <HI>Radimiro.</HI> I &s;hall not need to &s;pend many words touching my comming hither in this habit, thou knowe&s;t it, and art not a whit deceived in it. The Infanta my Lady is here in thy brothers cu&s;tody; I would relea&s;e her: if thou wilt be in&s;trumen|tall to me in it, I promi&s;e thee in the faith of a Bride (when my time &s;hall be come) to exalt thee in &s;uch man|ner, as thou &s;halt have no occa&s;ion to envie any one. I know the enterpri&s;e is hard, but if your brother would a&s;&s;i&s;t in it, it would be ea&s;ie. Tell me thy mind, and where thou can&s;t not help me with effects, a&s;&s;i&s;t me with coun&s;ell, Of me (an&s;wered <HI>Radi|miro</HI>) your Highne&s;&s;e may a&s;&s;ure him&s;elf of what&s;oever a mo&s;t faith|full &s;ervant is able to do, fearing no danger, nor yet your fathers anger. For if it be my fortune to &s;erve you, I have &s;erved my Prince. If di&s;o|beyed your Father, I have di&s;obeyed nothing but his fa&s;hions, which every one mi&s;likes. My brother I dare not tru&s;t; Not but that he is your &s;ervant as much as any one can be; but he is of &s;uch an au&s;tere nature, that his Oath will hold him indi&s;&s;olubly conjoined to his Maje&s;ty. As for the re&s;t give me to advi&s;e with my &s;elf, and give me time to con&s;ider what I had be&s;t to do for your &s;ervice, unle&s;&s;e you have already re&s;olved what you will do. The re&s;olution is already taken (replied <HI>Almadero</HI>) I will have the Infanta as &s;oon as &s;he is delivered of her childe, &s;eeing it is impo&s;&s;ible to have her now with|out eminent danger of life. In the mean time I mu&s;t imagine &s;ome way to be with her; The &s;horte&s;t, peradventure, will be to gain the Sentinell, and &s;cale the wall. My Lord, &s;aid <HI>Radimiro,</HI> how&s;oever give me time, that I may not onely think of it, but al&s;o con&s;ult with the <HI>Infanta,</HI> and <HI>Dorilla;</HI> To morrow at this hour and in this place, I will give an an&s;wer. <HI>Almadero</HI> returned to his cottage as full fraught with hopes, as <HI>Radimiro</HI> came to my Chamber full of fears; where it was fir&s;t re&s;olved, that to corrupt the Sentinel was not hard, but a dan|gerous thing, &s;eeing the next Sentinels might perceive it, or the round come by. But e&s;pecially that the Sentinell being corrupted, mu&s;t tru&s;t another and di&s;cover the bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, thereby overthrow|ing my hope of liberty; which if it could not be obtained but by this onely way, we mu&s;t then re&s;erve all means to do it, and re&s;olve to adventure upon any dangers what&s;oever; It was al&s;o propounded that he &s;hould put on womens apparell, and under the name of Nur&s;e be admmitted for &s;ome few daies. But this was not liked of, &s;eeing he was &s;o ea&s;ie to be known, as he had been of <HI>Radimiro,</HI> and becau&s;e hee was to come forth again: which he would not do. Many other things were &s;poken of, but all frivolous and impo&s;&s;ible; When <HI>Dorilla</HI> more malicious and peradventure wi&s;er then the re&s;t propounded; That &s;he taking in hand to feed a great company of &s;ilke-wormes to cau&s;e me to pa&s;&s;e away the time. <HI>Radimiro</HI> &s;hould at once cau&s;e &s;everall baggs of mulberie leaves to that purpo&s;e to be brought in, and that <HI>Aldemero</HI> &s;hould be one of the Porters. For having his face be&s;meared with durt and coal, he would not be taken notice of among&s;t &s;o many, nor yet of his &s;taying behind. This was concluded to be the be&s;t in|vention;
<PB N="41" REF="24"><HI>Almadero</HI> having notice thereof made ready for the next day: having re&s;igned his &s;heep into the &s;hepheards hands, and asked leave to go a little way, which he ea&s;ily obtained by meanes of the gold which remained in the &s;hepheards hand. <HI>Radimiro</HI> having gotten together nine men for nine &s;acks of leaves; one being provided a pur|po&s;e more then there were men, <HI>Almadero</HI> came by, who being con|&s;trained, took the tenth by compul&s;ion; <HI>Radimiro</HI> threatning him with a military in&s;olence to cudgell him if he would not do it; having un|loaded his leaves, the other Porters went away. <HI>Almadero</HI> being gone by, la&s;t of all with his burthen into my Chamber, where neither re|garding &s;mut nor dirt, he pre&s;ently embraced and ki&s;&s;ed me with &s;uch affection as Lovers u&s;e after they have been long debarred from &s;uch &s;port. While we thought our &s;elves &s;ecurely joyned together, and imagined we had brought our to&s;&s;ed &s;hip to a firm Anchor, and might now &s;leep &s;oundly, free from all &s;u&s;picions and jealou&s;ies, in the calme Haven of <HI>Radimiroes</HI> fidelity. Fortune made us know wee could not live &s;ecurely under her wing, unle&s;&s;e we were her Vota|ries. The King loved hunting exceedingly, and if ever he had follow|ed it, it was now &s;ince the Princes departure, to pa&s;&s;e away melan|cholly; loving him mo&s;t tenderly, more then he had before that time &s;hewen by any externall effects (if &s;o be that the naturall love of children, doth not &s;uffer the &s;ame difference between private men and Princes, as there are different qualities between them) employ|ing him&s;elf in this exerci&s;e &s;o often; that he would many times loo&s;e him&s;elf in it: happening into Cottages and &s;uch poor places, either by occa&s;ion of long cour&s;es, or of &s;ome other di&s;turbances. His mo&s;t delight&s;ome cha&s;es were beyond the River <HI>Durio,</HI> about the plea&s;ant City of <HI>Baccara,</HI> not above twelve miles di&s;tant from our Lord&s;hips and Lands, where he pre&s;ently went: whither it were for the Chaces &s;ake onely, or intending to lay a &s;nare for my brothers, as &s;ome be|leeved, though I can not ju&s;tly affirm it to be true. They hearing of his comming, &s;ent &s;uddainly a well qualified gentleman, to be&s;eech him to admit them to ki&s;&s;e his hand: He who already purpo&s;ed to vi|&s;it their hou&s;es as he was hunting: Far from imagining con&s;anguini|ty could be capable of any &s;uch mortall hatred; an&s;wered they &s;hould be welcome: He intending to pa&s;&s;e away that &s;ea&s;on between the <HI>Du|rio</HI> and <HI>Minto,</HI> &s;pecially in the plea&s;ant Chaces of their Fore&s;ts. They pre&s;ently came to him, having left order for their bu&s;ine&s;&s;e at home, and were received by the King, with great affability, &s;eeming to for|get all former di&s;ta&s;tes of their rebellions, and they all precedent injuries, together with the pre&s;ent di&s;gu&s;t of mine impri&s;onment: Within three daies being invited to &s;ome of their hou&s;es, he left the greate&s;t part of his train behind him, either becau&s;e he would not o|verpre&s;&s;e them with &s;uperfluous expence, as he made &s;hew. Or be|cau&s;e having ob&s;erved di&s;tracted thoughts in them, he imagined they mi&s;tru&s;ted him. <HI>Alcerio</HI> leaving <HI>Colimbrio</HI> and a page of his own who carried his &s;word, did with great delight run along the plea&s;ant bankes of that River. Neither would he have been &s;o &s;oon weary of
<PB N="42" REF="25">it, if <HI>Colimbrio</HI> mea&s;uring the time of the Courtiers comming, had not brought him to the Ca&s;tle a nearer way, while&s;t the others who fol|lowed him, being gone about a further way, gave time for the effecting of their de&s;igns. They found the place without any people in it, except &s;ome few &s;ervants who were come with <HI>Alcerio</HI> to meet him at the Gate. Being alighted from their Hor&s;es, the King with his Faulcon on his fi&s;t, followed <HI>Colimbrio</HI> up a private pair of &s;taires, <HI>Alcerio</HI> &s;taying behind to &s;hut the doors which they went thorow, exclu|ding the re&s;t That &s;olitude &s;eemed very &s;trange to the King at fir&s;t; and more, when being come into the la&s;t Chamber, he found him|&s;elf lockt in between two doors, and e&s;pied a man comming out from behind the hangings, of a &s;warthy pale countenance, with a naked dagger in his hand, at who&s;e appearing, <HI>Colimbrio</HI> laying a&s;ide all manner of re&s;pect, and turning towards him with a pale looke, through the alteration of his &s;pirits, &s;aid, <HI>Viriato,</HI> the hour is now come, for me to call thee no longer Uncle, nor King, having equally made thy &s;elf unworthy both of my veneration and affection: Thou art come now to be that <HI>Viriato,</HI> who mu&s;t die for having &s;o much of|fended me. Having thus &s;aid, he pre&s;ently went out at the door ex|pecting no further an&s;wer, which was the onely cau&s;e of his ruine: It is (be&s;ides being a feminile thing) a matter of exceeding dam|mage, for a man to feare looking upon that evill, which he feared not to be the beginner and cau&s;er of; wherefore I believe that wicked Polititians axiome to be true; that there is not a man to be found, either perfectly good, or perfectly bad: not good, by rea&s;on of his na|tural depravation; &s;o all men believe, and not bad (and this is mine opinion) by rea&s;on of the repugnancy of Con&s;cience, who&s;e prick|ing and tormenting often hinders the Delinquent from committing &s;ome part of the evill he had intended, which being thus left imper|fect, and without any ba&s;is, comes falling to catch him under its own burthen. If <HI>Colimbrio</HI> had had the courage to endure the &s;ight of his own cruelty again&s;t his Uncle, and to be a party in the executing of it, that evill had not befallen him which did. The King hearing &s;o bitter a decree, and perceiving in the naked weapon his death be|fore him, his heart failed him not; but encountring the murtherewith a bold and couragious &s;pirit, &s;aid to him: And who art thou that da|re&s;t lay hands upon my per&s;on? What profit wilt thou reap there|by? Knowe&s;t thou not, that I being dead, thou mu&s;t needs die (it not being expedient for them who &s;et thee a work, to keep thee alive when thou ha&s;t done the deed) and if I live, I may rai&s;e thee to wealth better then any one el&s;e? The Murtherer, who was before re|&s;olved to kill him, being &s;trook into a &s;uddaine fear and amazement, ca&s;t him&s;elfe at his feet, craving pardon at his hands. The King ta|king up the Dagger, went to the window, crying out he was betray|ed, and running to the door which he came in at, made it fa&s;t with the Bolt, and thinking to doe the like by the other, was not there time enough, finding <HI>Colimbrio</HI> comming in at it, and the murtherer running out. <HI>Viriato</HI> &s;uddainly &s;tabbed at him with his Dagger, but finding he
<PB N="43" REF="25">was armed, clo&s;ed with him, giving him no time to wound him. When the King &s;eized on the Dagger, he had &s;et down his Faulcon, and finding him baiting, ready to fly away, loath to lo&s;e him, &s;et his foot, for all his danger, upon his je&s;&s;es &s;o long as he could. The Cour|tiers who followed the King, were already come into the Court, when the King cryed out: but finding the door &s;hut, &s;trove to break it open: when the Page, who had been oftentimes in the Ca&s;tle, and knew the advenues of it, runne up another paire of &s;taires, on the edge whereof he found the King upon the ground, clo&s;ed with <HI>Colim|brio,</HI> both ready to tumble down; whereupon drawing the Kings owne &s;word, which he had in his hand, he made a thru&s;t at <HI>Colimbrio,</HI> but finding he was armed, he thru&s;t it up into his groine, not with|out danger of killing the King al&s;o; whereupon <HI>Colimbrio's</HI> &s;trength failing him, he dyed pre&s;ently. <HI>Alcerio,</HI> who was at the other door, endeavouring to come in to help his Brother, when he perceived by his words that he was dead, would have fled out of the Ca&s;tle, but be|ing met by the Kings followers, unwilling to be taken alive, having killed three of them, was at la&s;t &s;lain in an in&s;tant, being run through in &s;everall places in the Kings pre&s;ence, who was glad that he dyed not by his hands, to avoid the hatred which he might have incurred by doing it: And having taken a little breath after &s;o great a danger, receiving his friends congratulations, and taking a gla&s;s of wine in &s;tead of a Dinner, he took Hor&s;e for <HI>Leuciana</HI> which was my pri&s;on, no man knowing to what end: making what ha&s;t he could to get thither, before the news of this bu&s;ine&s;&s;e &s;hould arrive, or tydings of his comming. But ill news &s;ometimes exceed the very wind in &s;wift|ne&s;&s;e, and &s;o did the&s;e which being of &s;uch importancy, were pre|&s;ently blown abroad and arrived to <HI>Leuciana,</HI> while&s;t I free from all &s;u&s;pitions, was in the height of happine&s;&s;e: when loe as it were thun|der-&s;tricken by this news, I fell down dead (or at lea&s;t was &s;o e&s;teem|ed) with &s;uch a grievous fall, that (whether it was the cau&s;e of it, or the exce&s;&s;e of my pain) I was pre&s;ently delivered of a creature which lived but few minutes, and was laid dead by me, (I being al|&s;o thought to be &s;uch) that we might be buried together, as after, wards we were. <HI>Dorcallo</HI> was the onely he who cau&s;ed all this evill: for having brought me word of this killing news (thinking the King came to put me to death) he u&s;ed me as if I had been already con|demned, wounding me with &s;uch reproachful words, &s;o void of di&s;|cretion and re&s;pect, that they were &s;ufficient to bring me to that pa&s;&s;e which you have heard. <HI>Almadero</HI> at <HI>Dorcalloes</HI> comming, was retired into a little clo&s;et, when hearing the confu&s;ed rumour of many Wo|men, who were come to me upon this occa&s;ion, and <HI>Dorillas</HI> out-cryes, knew not what to think: For though lovers imaginations, in ca&s;e of evill, alwaies judge the wor&s;t: yet mine being Paramount above any other, could not but be thought le&s;&s;er then it was. He was newly gone from me full of hopes and contents, to give way to <HI>Dorcalloes</HI> com|ming in, when he &s;aw, in le&s;&s;e time then a fla&s;h of lightning, my life turned to death; his &s;weet and momentary plea&s;ures, into bitter|ne&s;&s;es
<PB N="44" REF="26">and eternall dolours. <HI>Radimiro</HI> who in &s;uch an expected ca&s;u|alty, had not as yet well recollected his di&s;per&s;ed &s;pirits: thinking me (as others al&s;o believed) to be dead, remembred <HI>Almadero,</HI> and re|pre&s;enting to him&s;elf the imminent hazard he was in by the Kings ap|proach came in where he was, and &s;aid: Arm your &s;elf my Lord now to the wor&s;t newes you can po&s;&s;ibly expect. If Fortune had long &s;tudied how to harme us, &s;he could not have learn'd how to do us more hurt then now &s;he hath. Your co&s;ens (my Lord) have &s;ought to murder your Father: but they have been killed, and he in &s;afety will be here pre&s;ently the Infanta my Lady hearing the newes, hath had a mortall fall, and being delivered at that in&s;tant, is dead together with her birth. Now becomes it your highne&s;&s;e to bear a re&s;olution brave again&s;t &s;uch mortall &s;troaks as the&s;e are, and remove pre&s;ently from hence, to avoid the dangers which hang over our head, &s;eeing we may mi&s;tru&s;t, that enraged Fortune will not be &s;atisfied with the pre|&s;ent evills.</P>
<P>And having thus &s;aid, he laid before him his former ragged clothes, and a paper of &s;oot, to &s;mear him&s;elf with; But he having a while fixed his eyes upon him, went towards the door where I lay; neither had <HI>Radimiro</HI> been able to have hindred him if <HI>Dorilla</HI> had not &s;urve|ned at the &s;ame time, who pro&s;trating her &s;elf before him, be&s;ought him to have compa&s;&s;ion on them, for by &s;hewing him&s;elfe he would have manife&s;ted what &s;ervice was done to him, and what di&s;&s;ervice to the King, whereby they &s;hould have come to that puni&s;hment which could not be but expected from a ju&s;tly incen&s;ed King. Upon their words he &s;topped, retreating back by litte and little towards a little bed, upon which he fell down: Good luck for them, for being fallen into a deep &s;ound he gave them time to change his habit, and be&s;oot his face: and being at la&s;t come to him&s;elf again, he &s;aid, is it po&s;&s;ible <HI>Radimiro</HI> that this is true which you told me? And if it be: how comes it <HI>Dorilla</HI> that you &s;uffered my <HI>Lilla</HI> to die, without &s;eeing me? But &s;uppo&s;e you could not help it, cannot you now &s;uffer me to &s;ee her before I die, to take my leave of tho&s;e welbeloved beauties: that our bodies may after a &s;hort time be united here, while our &s;pirits in de&s;pight of Fortune come to be perpetually united in another place? But they, falling again on their knees, and remon&s;trating to him the inevitable danger of an ignominious death for them, &s;aid, Cea&s;e friends, I am per&s;waded, I will conde&s;cend to what you will have me do: but I thought that when &s;he died, we mu&s;t all have died. I will die alone, let it be &s;o. And to pay death u&s;e for this little time, I will depart without &s;eeing of her; that the beautifull, though dolefull ob|ject, mitigating my grief, may not make it delightfull to me, whil&s;t rea&s;on is, that I &s;hould lament her death, without receiving &s;o much as a &s;haddow of any delight: having &s;aid thus, oceans of tears flowed from him, &s;econded by the other two. But he &s;uddenly &s;topped his vertue drying up his tears and &s;aying, Friends, if I did think to live (as I be|lieve I &s;hall die) I would with thankfull words, certifie you of my gratefull mind. The obligements whereby I am bound to you are
<PB N="45" REF="26">great; and if Fortune continue her hatred to me by forcing me to live, I will whil&s;t I live revenge my &s;elf on her by loving you in de&s;pight of her. In the mean time let this little Cabinet remain with you as a pledge: There are her jewells in it; let them be yours, and &s;eeing you love each other, enjoy them, being married together (he had left he the key with me, as if he had meant to command me to do, what I do with them) Neither can any body trouble you for them hereaf|ter, for being given her by me, no man knowes &s;he had them. The Heavens grant you more happily to enjoy them then &s;he did. I re|commend unto you the la&s;t offices due to this fair body; and &s;eeing I can do you no good by &s;taying, I will be gone, for fear le&s;t my pre|&s;ence might cau&s;e you &s;ome evill. They having ki&s;&s;ed his hand, and &s;hed abundance of tears, and <HI>Radimiro</HI> having put a &mdash; upon my &s;houlder, brought me through the Kitchen out of the hou&s;e, and out of the Ca&s;tle. Going a long with his brother to meet the King, <HI>Viriato</HI> had heard of my death by the way, wherefore being arrived, he would &s;ee me. It being proper to humane affections, not to believe unlook't for, and wi&s;hed for chances, which &s;uddenly befall to make them happy; he gave orderimmediately to have me buried at night, rejecting all the Phy&s;icians rea&s;ons, who unanimou&s;ly affirmed, that women who died in Childbirth, ought to have three daies re&s;pit, or at lea&s;t forty hours intervall, between their death and buriall: the matricall vapours making them to &s;eem dead before they be &s;o; which being comprehended by <HI>Radimiro</HI> and <HI>Dorilla,</HI> it &s;eeming notwith&s;tanding impo&s;&s;ible to them (believing I had really exhaled my la&s;t breath) they would neverthele&s;&s;e make triall of it, &s;o that having &s;uffered me (according to the Kings order) privately and without any cere|monies to be put into a large &s;epulcher, to which they de&s;cended down a pair of brick &s;tairs, clo&s;ed up with a heavy &s;tone: it was not difficult for them with the help of a Prie&s;t, in the dead of the night to take me out; Ju&s;t at that in&s;tant, when by my hearts panting, and the beating of my pul&s;es, my vitall &s;pirits apppeared to be within me; &s;o that rejoycing at it, they clo&s;ed up the Sepulcher again with fre&s;h morter; and following <HI>Dorilla,</HI> who went before them with a lantern, they laid me in the Prie&s;ts hou&s;e; where by means of Fomentations and Frications, I began to breath, and open mine eyes: But when I began to grieve and lament (life having brought me with the fir&s;t di&s;commodity, the remembrance of mine evils) <HI>Dorilla</HI> putting her finger to her mouth, beckned to me to hold my tongue, and in two words told me what had happened: So that with &s;orrow I re&s;trained all my grieved affections, &s;uffering them to do with me as they would: <HI>Almadero's</HI> going away thinking I was dead, was the &s;adde&s;t privati|on of life to me. I prayed <HI>Radimiro</HI> to go in que&s;t of him, which hee could not do; but the next day very late after the King was gone; and had been very liberall towards <HI>Dorilla</HI> of my cloths, and &s;ome few Talents: Then he went, and having looked all about tho&s;e places without any fruit, he promi&s;ed that after he had put me in &s;ome place of &s;afety, he would return to &s;eek him all the world over. But there
<PB N="46" REF="27">was no need of it, for within a fortnight after he had happily gotten me out of the Ca&s;tle with <HI>Dorilla,</HI> and brought me into the Kingdome of <HI>Ca&s;tile,</HI> to the place and hou&s;e where <HI>Almadero's</HI> e&s;quire had long harboured, we heard he had been there him&s;elf, de&s;cribing him by &s;everall markes: whereunto he added, that there hee had provided him&s;elf with a mourning armour, and a &s;hield painted with teares. And that from thence he had di&s;patched, an expre&s;&s;e me&s;&s;enger with a letter to the King of <HI>Lu&s;itania.</HI> I being re&s;olved to follow him, took my journey that way: the gift of my Jewells which he had given <HI>Do|rilla,</HI> doing me very good &s;ervice: for without them I had not been able to follow my de&s;ignes; wherefore I made u&s;e of them, not to re|po&s;&s;e&s;&s;e my &s;elf thereof, but onely to u&s;e them, and re&s;tore what &s;hould be equivalent to them, with large u&s;e. We went from place to place, where he had pa&s;&s;ed through, leaving every where (in any oc|ca&s;ions as had pre&s;ented them&s;elves, which were not few) famous report of his valour, being come to <HI>Barcello,</HI> there we heard he had imbarked him&s;elf for <HI>Italie.</HI> We had &s;tormy weather a while, almo&s;t for a whole month together, all which time we dur&s;t not put to Sea, and then we heard newes of <HI>Viriato's</HI> death, and that <HI>Almadero</HI> was proclaimed King, and the Kingdom during his ab&s;ence, guided by certain Governours, till his comming home. It was reported he died with grief of a letter his Son writ to him, in which he prote&s;ted he would never come in his &s;ight again. I was upon this advice once re&s;olved to return: But de&s;ire of finding him out my &s;elf (it being more tedious to me to &s;tay, then look up and down for him) I conti|nued in my fir&s;t re&s;olution; I bought this ve&s;&s;ell, and providing it with Marriners, I put my &s;elf to th' adventures of the Sea. Being arri|ved at <HI>Liguria,</HI> I heard he had imbarqued him&s;elf for <HI>Partenope,</HI> at <HI>Partenope,</HI> for <HI>Greece.</HI> The long voyage no whit di&s;plea&s;ed me, the tedi|ou&s;ne&s;&s;e thereof being taken away, by hope and de&s;ire. But being come into the Egean Sea, I had no news at all of him, till running o|ver from Iland to Iland, almo&s;t through all the Ciclades: I met with one that told me that the Knight I &s;ought for, had many months &s;ince &s;ojourned in <HI>Ericu&s;a:</HI> and gave me &s;uch makes of him, that I doubted no error nor equivocation in it. But the &s;weetne&s;&s;e of his advice, was quickly an&s;wered with bitterne&s;&s;e, I being at the &s;ame time told that he lay there en&s;nared with the Prince&s;&s;e of <HI>Feacias</HI> love: But I (though I believed al there&s;t) would not beleeve that, becau&s;e I would not do both of them &s;o much wrong, as to make way in my bre&s;t for a mortall jealou&s;ie: Which being not able to enter into my heart, doth not with&s;tanding a&s;&s;ault it with continuall battery to make it yeeld. I know <HI>Almadero,</HI> and mine own Fortune al&s;o: Peradventure that e&s;teeming him&s;elf free, and willing to wave the griefs, of my re|membrance, he may by a living &s;ubject, &s;eek to exclude the <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 word"> one, for &s;uch doth he believe me to be: But on the other &s;ide, I cannot imagined it &s;o to be, the year &s;ince my pretended death being not yet quite compleated. I will rather believe that fortune having made the the butt at which &s;he &s;hoots all her arrowes, and being loath to trouble
<PB N="47" REF="27">any but my &s;elf with them, &s;hoots new Darts at me, to wound me with fre&s;h wounds; which if &s;he &s;hould, it would be (in de&s;pight of her) but for a &s;hort time. <HI>Ericu&s;a</HI> being &s;o neare, the Prince&s;&s;e of <HI>Fe|acia</HI> married, <HI>Almadero</HI> loyall, and alive.</P>
<P><HI>Coralbo</HI> had been very attentive in hearkening to the Prince&s;&s;es tra|gick Hi&s;tory, which being ended, he comforted her with &s;uch a &s;tile as they u&s;e to comfort unfortunate folkes, namely with arguments of hopes: whereunto tho&s;e &s;oules willingly fit them&s;elves when they are neare&s;t to de&s;paire, cautelou&s;ly dallying with their own be|liefe. But &s;uch a prevention will hardly take place, where fortune with its violence overcomes all manner of prudence and wi&s;dome. For being in a few days arrived to <HI>Ericu&s;a,</HI> and meeting with that which neither of them imagined, they pre&s;ently were ca&s;t down both in body and mind. Having ca&s;t anchor and come a&s;hore, the fir&s;t news they heard, was the death of the old Prince of <HI>Feacia,</HI> and the Marri|age of the widdow Prince&s;s of <HI>Feacia,</HI> with the Knight of the tears, un|der the name of <HI>Almadero</HI> King of <HI>Lu&s;itania;</HI> and that the chief of that Kingdom were come no longer then a fornight &s;ince with a powerful fleet, to carry him away with his new wife. <HI>Liarta</HI> at this news, wax|ed cold as a &s;tone; and if &s;he fell not, dyed not, and wept not, it was becau&s;e all her vital faculties were &s;o &s;tupified with a horrid chilli|ne&s;s, that being runne from the fir&s;t apprehen&s;ion to the heart imme|diately, it did from thence take po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion of all other parts: So that &s;hewing no effects of an ordinary pa&s;&s;ion, it proved her wretch|edne&s;&s;e to be &s;urpa&s;&s;ing (being extraordinary) any demon&s;trations of a naturall grief. <HI>Dorilla,</HI> and the Squire, who was <HI>Radimiro,</HI> &s;eeing her in that ca&s;e, were ready at hand, and laying her in bed, endea|voured, I cannot tell whether to take away, or re&s;tore her &s;ences: the privation or habit being incertaine in her, and con&s;equently her life al&s;o. <HI>Coralbo</HI> who felt this dolorous accident as if it had been his own, laboured as much as he could to ea&s;e her, but finding he &s;pake to a deaf Statue: He thought it would be be&s;t for him (&s;he being a Woman) to leave her alone with di&s;creet <HI>Dorilla,</HI> and go out (though it were drawing towards night) to give her place, and ea&s;e his limbs, benummed by a tedious Sea-voyage. He was &s;carce gone out of th'in|habited place, when at the entrance of a wood, he heard a noi&s;e of voices, which began to grow le&s;&s;e, being drowned by the loud &s;hreeks of a complaning woman: and ru&s;hing forward, he e&s;pied five theeves, whereof three were leading a man, and the two other a woman towards the Sea, which was there hard by: He had no Armes about him but his &s;word; nor could he have overtaken them, if the woman had not given him time by lying down upon the ground. He &s;et upon them, and that &s;o &s;uddainly (they being bu&s;ied in &s;aving their pr<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">y) that according to the cu&s;tome of theeves, they would have made no re&s;i&s;tance, if his being alone had not encouraged them. <HI>Coralbo</HI> was naturally bold, but when he was to be employed in a cau&s;e which was manife&s;tly ju&s;t, (as this was) he &s;eemed rather de&s;perate
<PB N="48" REF="28">then valiant. His being di&s;armed, and again&s;t many made him not to de&s;i&s;t: a generous man, not thinking upon dangers of life, when the incompatibility of an unworthy action, inflames him with a ge|nerous rage, to puni&s;h them for it, who commit it. He wounded one of the two, which held the woman more &s;paringly then needed, fear|ing to hurt her: wherefore the blood rai&s;ing wrath in him who was wounded, quenched the feare, which his ba&s;e and abject condition, and the unexpected enemies arrivall had put him into: Yet alone he dur&s;t not &s;tirre, but leaving the woman with his companion, he called one of the three which were going before with the man: but becau&s;e <HI>Coralbo</HI> (hoping for no a&s;&s;i&s;tance him&s;elfe, would not give them time, neither to receive any) he redoubled his blow, the vil|laine &s;ought to revenge him&s;elf thereof with &s;o much force, that the blow falling to the ground in vaine, the &s;word was ready to break, had it not been of a mo&s;t refined temper: the other companion in the meane time, comming in with a thru&s;t, intended to have runne him thorow: but it proved otherwi&s;e, for <HI>Coralbo</HI> having put it by, took hold with the left hand on his Hilt, and ran him thorow with the right, whereby he fell to the ground and dyed pre&s;ently. The other taking his opportunity, while the Knight was killing his com|panion, wounded him in the reyns of the back, but he was &s;o farre from him, that he could not put his thru&s;t home, which if he had done, it had been his la&s;t night. The others &s;eeing one of their fel|lowes wounded, and another killed out-right, for&s;aking their Pri&s;o|ners, fell all upon him, one of them throwing a hatchet at him, which hitting him on the left arme quite deaded it; yet was it a happy blow, for had it lighted but four fingers more towards his body, it would have marred the fa&s;hion of it. He &s;eeing four &s;words about his eares, thought to retire towards a great Tree to &s;ecure his back parts; in the meane time the Pri&s;oner that was taking the dead theeves &s;word, ran to aid the Knight being known by him, and the woman to be <HI>Coralbo:</HI> for though the night was farre &s;pent, yet was it very luminous and light. This reliefe came to him in good time; for retreating he hit his heel again&s;t a root of the Tree, that grew out of the ground, which threw him backward, leaving him at his Ene|mies mercies. The fir&s;t hurt he received being in his po&s;ture was a thru&s;t clean thorough the right knee joynt. The &s;econd a cut on the left hand, which he held up to &s;ave his head, while&s;t he &s;trove to rai&s;e him&s;elf up with the other. The third, a back blow, which carri|ed away a peece of skinne of the breadth of three fingers, haire and all to the ground, which blow was aimed at his neck. The fourth fai|led, the Pri&s;oner &s;taying the blow by taking away his life. <HI>Coralbo</HI> &s;ee|ing him&s;elf thus evill intreated, his force enerea&s;ed with his anger, and in that in&s;tant he was wounded in the hand, rai&s;ing him&s;elf from the ground with the other, not feeling when he was hot (as he did af|terwards) the hurt in his knee, full of evill talent, yeelding him&s;elf for dead, flew in among&s;t them, killed one, and while&s;t he was kil|ling
<PB N="49" REF="28">another, he was runne quite thorough the body by the la&s;t, who paid for it &s;oundly, being runne thorough the heart by the Pri&s;oner: &s;o that falling, he had not the time, &s;o much as to draw the &s;word out of <HI>Coralbo's</HI> body. The woman, who according to the nature and delicacie of her &s;ex, might &s;ince the beginning of the skirmi&s;h have &s;aved her &s;elf, never &s;tirred from the place, aiding her friends with her voice as well as &s;he could, but &s;eeing her enemies dead, and the quarrell ended, and <HI>Coralbo</HI> run through in that manner, it is not to be expre&s;&s;ed what ha&s;t &s;he made to draw the &s;word out of his body. He knew her not in the twilight; but helping as well as he could with his hand (that &s;he might not with drawing it out make the wound bigger) he lay down, being not able to &s;tand any longer. But ob&s;er|ving how, &s;he tormented her &s;elf, and grieved for his &s;ake, and by her habit judging her to be a Lady of great worth, &s;aid, Madam, I give you many thanks, for that forgetting the joy you &s;hould expre&s;&s;e for regaining your liberty, you now condole mine evill, which I rejoice at, as an effect of &s;uch an employment. If I die, it is no great matter, it will be but the death of a poor Kinght: whereas your life and liber|ty may be of great importancy to the world, by rea&s;on of the &s;ublime merits (which others cannot &s;uppo&s;e) in &s;o worthy a pre&s;ence. But &s;eeing her, without an&s;wering, increa&s;e her laments; fixing his eyes upon her, he thought he &s;aw the Dutche&s;s <HI>Chri&s;anta's</HI> face: and though it was night, he found by the Moane &s;he made (well remem|bring her behaviour) that it was &s;he.</P>
<P>So that thinking her (as he did yet) dead, he was a&s;toni&s;hed and amazed, imagining that her &s;oul having carried the love of him with it, into the other world, was now come thither to meet him, to &s;hew him the way thither. Wherefore if he was afraid of death before, the pre&s;ent &s;ight increa&s;ed it &s;o, that he du&s;t nor more &s;peak to her, nor look upon her. There were in that place not far from them a compa|ny of &s;hepheards, who having brought their flocks together into the wood, to let them at the break of day enjoy the pa&s;tures refre&s;hed with <HI>Aurora's</HI> dew. The&s;e hearing the Ecchoes of the cla&s;hes of &s;words before they heard their voices, ran &s;wiftly that way, being ac|cu&s;tomed many times, by a ju&s;t force, to repre&s;&s;e the in&s;olencie of theeves and Robbers. But being come to the place, &s;eeing the ma&s;&s;a|cre, and having heard by the Ladies &s;ervant how the ca&s;e &s;tood, proffered their aid and a&s;&s;i&s;tance. The Lady in the mean time having made a pillow of her lap for <HI>Coralbo</HI> to lie on, while he being between dead and alive, felt nothing, with an unexpre&s;&s;ible pa&s;&s;ion &s;aid unto him, Hath fortune then re&s;erved me, from &s;o many angui&s;hes, and from &s;uch a cruell and ignominious death to afflict me now with the mo&s;t cruell of all angui&s;hes, to kill me with the cruelle&s;t of all deaths, with your death I mean, my <HI>Celio,</HI> my <HI>Coralbo?</HI> Shall I live after you? I who neither breath nor live but in you, and &s;hall you die I remain|ing alive? No, no. Nature can not operate again&s;t its own lawes. I who am your body cannot &s;ub&s;i&s;t, you being &s;eparate from me, who
<PB N="50" REF="29">are my &s;oul, Mu&s;t I kill you to find you out: and be, if not the mur|therer, yet at the lea&s;t the inexcu&s;able cau&s;e of your death? who &s;hall revenge it if I do not, being both Judge and Delinquent; to con|demn my &s;elf, and &s;uffer the puni&s;hment due to &s;uch a crime? In whom were ever &s;een amid&s;t extream happine&s;&s;es extreame mi&s;eries, or in extream delights extream hearts griefes, as there are now to be &s;een in me? Could I meet with a more happy or delightfull object then this, and having met with it, reape greater heart-breaking griefs and mi&s;eries by it? What have I done to thee Fortune? that having undertaken to torment me, thou art not &s;atisfied with one, but wilt have me die by many deaths, making me to feel them all in my mo&s;t &s;en&s;itive &s;ences? and to &s;hew me the manifold Idea of thy de|formities thou tooke&s;t away mins honour, and &s;pared'&s;t my life, to the end I might being deprived of Children, and <HI>Coralbo,</HI> remain a mournfull example to all the unhappy ones of the earth? And having &s;aid thus, and &s;haken off the body (by her already e&s;teemed dead) from that lappe which was become a Lake of blood, &s;hee ro&s;e in a rage, and taking up the &s;word &s;he had drawn out of <HI>Coralboes</HI> brea&s;t, which lay at her feet, and having put the pomell of it to the ground, ca&s;t her &s;elf upon the point, and had killed her &s;elf with it, if her &s;er|vant and the &s;hepheards had not prevented her, which they could not &s;o &s;oon do, but that &s;he had before they could take hold of her, give her &s;elf a &s;mall wound in the brea&s;t, a benefit which &s;he then e&s;teemed as an inexplicable injurie: and endeavoured with more then womans forces to recover the not deep enough wounding &s;word, and accu&s;ing them of impiety that took it from her. The cha|rity, Piety, pretended forces all in vain to make her quiet; If a &s;mall breath and weak &s;igh, coming out of that beloved body, giving hope of his life, had not kept her from ruining her &s;elf: Freed then from the Fren&s;ie of killing her &s;elf, coming again near unto him, &s;he tore all the linnen &s;he had about her, to bind up his wounds, while the &s;hep|heards (two of them being returned to the guard of their Flockes) having cut &s;ome poles, laid him gently upon them, bearing him &s;oftly to <HI>Chri&s;anta's</HI> lodging, where they were with Royall liberality, rich|ly recompenced. The Chirurgion, who was there entertained by the communality, finding the wound in the bre&s;t, not to touch the in|ward parts, gave hope of life, &s;o that the Dutche&s;&s;e being quieted, they looked to the re&s;t of his wounds; his head being but &s;uperficially hurt, his hand without danger, his knee onely in &s;uch termes as it was likely to remain lame. <HI>Coralbo</HI> while they were dre&s;&s;ing of him began to come to him&s;elf, and the blood being &s;topped, he fully re|vived and opening his eyes, while <HI>Chri&s;anta</HI> with her tears wa&s;h|ed his unhurt hand, and ki&s;&s;ed it, he was no more in doubt of her be|ing a &s;pirit, being &s;ubject (as other bodies are) to the touch. So that being greatly comforted therewith, he &s;aid unto her, I know not (Madam) which exceeds in me joy, or wonder, in &s;eing of you alive, having by undoubted relation heard, that you were cruelly murthe|red.
<PB N="51" REF="29">If you be alive, as you &s;eem to be, I prai&s;e heaven for it: if you be not, I cannot chu&s;e but returne to my former laments: I give you in the meane time thanks, for having againe taken the paines to &s;up|port and help me in &s;o extream a calamity as this pre&s;ent is to me. He would have &s;aid more, but could not, and &s;he vivified by &s;ee|ing him in termes &s;omewhat hopefull, an&s;wered him, My <HI>Caelio</HI> (for &s;o I love to call you) I never was dead: and as I li|ved, doe I now live, and hope for the future to live and die wholly yours. That relation was fal&s;e (as you &s;ee) though believed to be true by all the world, as you &s;hall &s;hortly under&s;tand. All my lo&s;&s;es I now repute to be precious gaines, &s;eeing I have found you. And though it be an evill meeting, I hope it will not prove nothing neare &s;o malignant, as it was prepared for me by mine inexorable de&s;tiny. Let us now look to your recovery, and I pray take your re&s;t, and &s;ay no more at this time. But <HI>Coralbo</HI> &s;eeing her wounded, being di&s;may|ed thereat, &s;aid; And how &s;hall I be &s;ilent, (Madam) &s;eeing you in &s;uch a ca&s;e? Who was that mercile&s;&s;e Barbarian, that dur&s;t &s;o cru|elly wound that faire and pittifull brea&s;t? &s;he being taken on a &s;ud|daine, gave him a confu&s;ed an&s;wer, &s;aying, that it was a &s;mall blow which ca&s;ually lighted upon her, and would be whole within a day or two, the skin onely being &s;uperficially razed. So having againe impo&s;ed him &s;ilence, &s;he cau&s;ed the Chirurgion to dre&s;&s;e her. <HI>Liarta</HI> &s;tood in the meame time a little way off, dallying with death, calling upon it, as a hope without fraude, as an <HI>A&s;ylum</HI> of inviolable &s;ecurity, and as a place of eternall re&s;t.</P>
<P>But of unfortunate folks mi&s;eries, I believe the wor&s;t to be that, that it is not in their power to free them&s;elves from, by meanes of that la&s;t &s;igh which &s;corns all manner of adver&s;e fortune, a &s;trange thing, and void of all rea&s;on it is: That Nature at one and the &s;ame in&s;tant, will not have us be able to die, nor able to live. The&s;e are her &s;cornes, her dalliances, and if they be in&s;upportable, we may ea|&s;ily free our &s;elves of them. Death hath no meane to fly a re&s;olute and generous hand. But will it be genero&s;ity to die through coward|line&s;&s;e of mind, for want of heart to endure torments? The good Souldier (a pious &s;oule) &s;hall he for&s;ake the place in which his Cap|taine (God) hath &s;et him without his leave and command? But do we believe that <HI>Liarta</HI> de&s;ired to die indeeed, or rather that her griefe made her imagine &s;o? I believe the latter. My rea&s;on is, that no body is &s;atisfied with living, unle&s;&s;e he be fir&s;t &s;atisfied with all things. She was not &s;atisfied with hers, being not &s;atisfied of <HI>Al|madero,</HI> of whom to be &s;atisfied, was alwaies impo&s;&s;ible to her. But grant &s;he did de&s;ire death, and placed it in the highe&s;t degree of all benefits; yet not that death, &s;he was author of her &s;elfe, a voluntary death having alwayes been blamed: and though there may be ho|ne&s;t Titles for it, yet good, though it may produce accidentall evils, yet it will never bring forth premeditate and fore de&s;igned ones. That one oppo&s;ite &s;hould have the other oppo&s;ite for its object, is impo&s;|&s;ible: If an honourable death be of power to honour him who li|ved
<PB N="52" REF="30">ignominou&s;ly, &s;hall not an ignominious one (particularly this which is contrary to all Laws) make any one infamous, though he have lived never &s;o vertuou&s;ly and meritoriou&s;ly? <HI>Liarta</HI> de|de&s;ired death, but would have heaven take her; when (&s;o little certainty doth our judgement afford us, e&s;pecially in pa&s;&s;ions which take us &s;uddainly) on a &s;uddaine her will and de&s;ire changed. Her good <HI>Genius,</HI> which prompted her with good thoughts, &s;hewing her that <HI>Almaderoes</HI> fault was remi&s;&s;ible, and the marriage with the o|ther invalid, &s;he being alive. That &s;he was fir&s;t cho&s;en, fir&s;t beloved, and his fir&s;t &s;pou&s;e. <HI>Dorilla</HI> thus in&s;pired, di&s;cour&s;ed unto her upon the&s;e points. <HI>Radimiro</HI> voted him&s;elfe to voluntary damnation, if at her fir&s;t appearing in <HI>Lu&s;itania, Almadero</HI> did not for&s;ake all the Prince&s;&s;es as ever the I&s;land of <HI>Feacia</HI> had, and all the Queenes ever raigned in <HI>A&s;ia,</HI> or any where el&s;e in the world. Whereby comforted, nothing hindred her mirth but jealou&s;ie, that venemous Serpent, who&s;e bitings notwith&s;tanding, were continually cured with <HI>Almaderoes</HI> innocent ignorance. All the&s;e infirmities and con|vale&s;cencies, all the&s;e deaths and revivings, &s;ucceeded in le&s;&s;e then three or foure hours. And &s;he &s;eeing <HI>Coralbo</HI> did not returne after &s;o long time, imagining he had in re&s;pect of her, becau&s;e he would not di&s;turbe her, gone &s;ome where el&s;e to lodge&punc; &s;he &s;ent <HI>Radimiro</HI> to &s;eek him, who going out (heard of the Knights unfortu|nate &s;ucce&s;&s;es) which notwith&s;tanding went him&s;elfe to &s;ee him, but hearing he was at re&s;t, would not di&s;turbe him. Being come home, he related to <HI>Liarta</HI> the di&s;a&s;trous adventure, particularly as it befell: Who forgetting her own indi&s;po&s;ition, ro&s;e out of her bed to goe vi|&s;ite him. <HI>Chri&s;anta</HI> taking her to be a Knight, de&s;ired her to forbeare &s;eeing of him till the next morning: But <HI>Coralbo</HI> hearing her voice, &s;ent to intreat her to come in. The di&s;gui&s;ed Lady could not at fir&s;t &s;ight chu&s;e, but betray with th'abundance of teares, the condition of her &s;ex. She thought to have de&s;ired his company in her voyage to <HI>Lu&s;itania;</HI> now finding him in this &s;ad condition, the affection &s;he bore him, and the lo&s;&s;e of &s;o good a companion in travell, made her doubly to bemoane his evill. But <HI>Coralbo</HI> glad to &s;ee her on foot (ha|ving left her in a dying condition) comforted her, and told her, he made no que&s;tion, but her bu&s;ine&s;&s;e would have a happy period; and &s;he (though very de&s;irous to be gone, would not for&s;ake hated <HI>Eri|cu&s;a,</HI> till &s;uch time as &s;he &s;aw him &s;ure to live: then taking leave of him, &s;he loo&s;ed her &s;ailes towards the We&s;t, leaving him to the pious care of th'enamoured <HI>Chri&s;anta.</HI></P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 N="2" TYPE="book">
<PB N="53" REF="30">
<HEAD>THE CORALBO Of Cavalier <HI>GIO. FRANCESCO BIONDI.</HI></HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">THE SECOND BOOK.</HEAD>
<P><HI>_CORIANNA</HI> was entertained in her &s;ayling to <HI>Sar|diana,</HI> with &s;uch great te&s;timonalls of courte&s;ie and re&s;pect, that forgetting her former misfortunes, &s;he thought on nothing but on repairing the dammage, by the free fruition of the favours &s;he continually received from <HI>Eromena;</HI> whil&s;t <HI>Lucano</HI> (who by ado|ring her would manife&s;t the joy he received in the po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion of her per&s;on and love) gave him&s;elf to believe he never li|ved till then: being before dead in others opininion, and his own &s;ad|ne&s;&s;e; thankes to the unexpected pa&s;&s;ions of his own jealous errors. He thought nothing could now afflict him for the future, nor &s;et a firm bound to his misfortunes, except the vain fears of incon&s;tant fortune. More apt in amorous ca&s;es then in any other to affright with|out cau&s;e, tho&s;e delicate affections which are &s;ubject (as leaves are to the wind) to the irrggular bla&s;ts of unthought of misadventures. But con&s;idering him&s;elf free there-from in that wherein &s;he oftne&s;t u&s;eth to di&s;play her forces, honours, &s;tates, and titles being all for&s;aken for <HI>Corianna</HI> alone, his love refined at the touch of mi&s;eries and ambi|ons, lives, and deaths, he judged that the happine&s;&s;e of pre&s;erving them&s;elves long alive, and lovers, was the onely aime of their de&s;ires. The life depending upon God, and love upon them&s;elves, both ex|empted from the rage of its furies; They arrived in <HI>Sardinia</HI> ju&s;t on <HI>Lindadori's</HI> birth day, a fe&s;tivall day both in Court and all the King|dom
<PB N="54" REF="31">over. The King who had with great anxiety expected them, went out of his own lodgings to meet them, with &s;uch joy as a Prince of his age was capable of; and being put on by <HI>Eromena</HI> to exerci&s;e the affections of courte&s;ie towards loving gue&s;ts, before them of nature towards his dome&s;ticks, he failed not in &s;hewing him&s;elf rather as a Father to all three, then to <HI>Polimero</HI> and <HI>Lindadori,</HI> Father in law and Grandfather onely; extending him&s;elf towards him with &s;uch plea|&s;ing words and affections, that they were &s;ufficient to raze out all for|mer ingratitudes. The fir&s;t newes and happie&s;t for <HI>Corianna</HI> was, that her onely brother being dead, who was Prince of <HI>Parthenope,</HI> the King her Father had &s;ent every where to enquire for her, promi&s;ing large rewards to him that &s;hould find her; the Kingdome falling to her, be|ing the onely daughter brought up before the Prince was born as pre|&s;umed heir. He had written to all the Princes of the world concerning her. So that the letter, which was &s;ent to the King of <HI>Sardinia,</HI> was by his order delivered unto him, and being read, was to this effect.</P>
<LETTER LANG="eng">
<HEAD>To the King of <HI>Sardinia</HI> and <HI>Cor&s;ica,</HI> the King of <HI>Parthe|nope</HI> wi&s;heth health.</HEAD>
<P>IF the greatne&s;&s;es of Kings were as well exempted from the &s;troakes of Fortune, as they them&s;elves are free from depending upon any others, I am &s;ure that though they were never &s;o wi&s;e, yet they were not able to maintain the affections of humane haughtine&s;&s;e, again&s;t that infinite power, in re&s;pect of which, theirs is but an imperfect and ill de&s;igned imbo&s;&s;ement; But being born men, and by nature &s;ubject to pa&s;&s;ions as others are, they mu&s;t (being not excepted out of the number of men) at la&s;t acknowledge, that powers here below in re|&s;pect of the heavenly, are but a ceremoniall order, which being taken away, the whole &s;ub&s;tance of their greatne&s;&s;e vani&s;heth. I &s;peak this (mo&s;t victorious King) becau&s;e I being born a King, lived long time in errour; imagining I could command the events of Fortune by the &s;ame authority, as I did the wills of tho&s;e who were &s;ubject unto me; But I was much deceived therein, &s;uch an office not belonging to men, but re&s;erved onely for the Gods: who al&s;o could do but little, if they could not be wroth us, for that having made us worthy of re|pre&s;enting them in image, we pre&s;ume to be like them in e&s;&s;ence al&s;o. I have to my co&s;t learned, that vertue is not &s;ubject to humane powers. That a Kingly condition, is like others &s;ubject to ignorances and imperfections. That he is not born inferior to nature, who hath need of Fortune to pre&s;erve him&s;elf. That power needs not beg any &s;upporters. That humane impotencie is &s;ubject to alterations; alte|rations to motions of Fortune. Fortune to be the daughter of de&s;tiny. De&s;tinie, Providence and God, though nominally di&s;tinct in diffe|rence of acts, are notwith&s;tanding Virtually one and the &s;elf &s;ame thing. I per&s;waded my &s;elf, that becau&s;e men bowed their knees to
<PB N="55" REF="31">me, and directed their actions altogether to plea&s;e me, they did it becau&s;e heaven bore me &s;ome re&s;pect. Such did I pre&s;ume my &s;elfe to be, one among&s;t an innumerable multitude cho&s;en to command others. I was often angry with the &s;ea&s;ons, and more often have I threatned the weather, as if rain and fair weather, thunders, and tempe&s;ts ought not to have exerci&s;ed their &s;everall offices, without the pre&s;cription of my decrees. I had a daughter born, who&s;e beau|ties and graces confirmed me in mine ignorance: as if &s;uch endowments could not have fallen but in a per&s;on of my quality: the under&s;tand|ing blinded by pre&s;umption; there having been even before that time examples enough to teach me, that Queens who had heretofore been Heirs of this mo&s;t noble Kingdom, were born under a la&s;civious a&s;cendant. So that if I had feared, as I ought to have done, I had pro|vided as I &s;hould to that which befell me. I had at la&s;t a Son, on whom I &s;etled all mine affections, e&s;teeming he &s;hould &s;ucceed me in my power: &s;o that thinking to place my daughter highly, making her in time Queen of <HI>Sicilia,</HI> Lo without knowing why or wherefore I lo&s;e her, and &s;he runs away from me: and though I have u&s;ed all care and diligence to find her again, yet could I never hear any newes of her. My &s;on in the mean time, whil&s;t he was comming out of his in|fancie, and begun to put forth abundant of budds of Royall vertues, and afforded us great hopes, died of the&mdash;Now if the&s;e were not warnings, to waken me out of the &s;leep of my pre&s;umptions, where &s;hall I find any, unle&s;&s;e it be with my death, my ruine and the lo&s;s of all I have? which if I &s;tay for, mine will be a &s;leep no longer, but an incurable mortall lethargie. And by comprehending it will be &s;uch I learne that the Gods would have me amended, not oppre&s;s|ed, content that I &s;hould live, having confe&s;&s;ed my faults. But what humane a&s;&s;i&s;tance can I hope for, to relieve me, if <HI>Corianna</HI> be not? &s;he who can onely re&s;tore my lo&s;&s;es, and with her return cure the bleeding wounds of my dolours? I have &s;ent to all the Princes of the world, intreating them by virtue of the fraternity into which our common dignity conjoines us, to cau&s;e diligent enquiry to be made after her; and having found her, to give me notice of it, to the end I may &s;end for her in &s;uch manner as the greatne&s;&s;e of her &s;tate doth re|quire. The &s;ame reque&s;t I not onely make to you (mo&s;t valiant and loving friend and fellow King) by this Amba&s;&s;adour, as common to others, but with a more &s;peciall mi&s;&s;ion, our antient amity requiring more particular termes from me. Be&s;ides that I feel in within my &s;elf, &s;ome certainty (though I know not from whence) of your a&s;&s;i|&s;tance, I conjure you by natural charity, by paternall affection, by a Kings magnanimity, to commi&s;erate my lo&s;&s;es, and procure me the re&s;tauration of her, as far as your power will afford. A&s;&s;uring you, that as the favour I &s;hall herein receive from you, &s;hall extend it &s;elf as far as is the extent of Heaven: &s;o being in it made incorruptible, &s;hal continually wheele in the eyes of the world a&s;terized with your be|nefice, and mine obligement, which &s;hall render for ever obliged unto you</P>
<CLOSER><SIGNED><HI>The King of</HI> Parthenope.</SIGNED></CLOSER>
</LETTER>
<PB N="56" REF="32">
<P><HI>Corianna</HI> was extraordinarily moved with the Fatherly affections which &s;he found expre&s;&s;ed and &s;et downe in this Letter: and though the death of her Brother did &s;eem to grieve her, yet gene|ro&s;ity with all the other vertues, (which onely brought forth the grief which was due for the lo&s;&s;e of a Brother) were &s;omething &s;carce, in re&s;pect of the happine&s;&s;e which did accrew to her thereby. Wherefore, as the complaints and congratulations which &s;he recei|ved from every one, were indi&s;tinct and confu&s;ed: &s;o the affections of grief being turned into a meere di&s;tillation of teares, were &s;up|pre&s;&s;ed by the comfort which nature afforded her in the object of charity towards her &s;elf, in &s;uch a time as her hopes were grown al|together de&s;perate. <HI>Aratus</HI> would have &s;ent her away pre&s;ently, without giving her Father any advice at all, with his fleet onely; but that <HI>Lucano</HI> his intere&s;ts kept him back from &s;o doing, &s;eeming it too dangerous to adventure them to a po&s;&s;ible violence of new com|motions in a mind (for &s;uch things which he had never heard) per|adventure not di&s;po&s;ed to be pacified. Wherefore though the Court of <HI>Bona</HI> had more need of re&s;t then new of troubles; yet he thought good to employ him in this bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, to the great content of tho&s;e who were intere&s;ted therein, and his owne too, being borne to live for others more then for him&s;elfe. Wherefore having taken three Gallies, he happily &s;ailed to <HI>Parthenope,</HI> at &s;uch time as the King re|ceived no advice, langui&s;hed in de&s;ires, and was in a manner de&s;pe|rate of hearing any more news of his Daughter. <HI>Lucano's</HI> Mother could alone have ea&s;ed him of this trouble, if &s;he dur&s;t have done it: but fearing the danger of new di&s;gu&s;ts, &s;he imagined it was &s;uffici|ent that &s;he had &s;ent to <HI>Ericu&s;a,</HI> for <HI>Corianna</HI> to come her &s;elfe to &s;ettle her bu&s;ine&s;&s;e. But the Me&s;&s;enger being come back with news of her retreating to <HI>Sardinia,</HI> and others diligencies, be&s;ides the Kings being judged &s;uperfluous. She was gone into <HI>Lucania,</HI> to avoid tho&s;e fla&s;hes which the fir&s;t notices of her Sonnes life and marriage might have excited in him: leaving an expre&s;&s;e to advi&s;e her of what daily &s;hould happen there. The Count was received with much pomp; and though he was thought to be &s;ent to bring &s;ome news of the Prince&s;s; yet it was thought to be rather news of &s;ome hopes of finding her, then news that &s;he was already found. But the King di&s;covering the Let|ter in his hand, and knowing the Character, &s;tretched him&s;elfe forth in act of ravi&s;hing, rather then of receiving it; and not giving heed to what the Count &s;aid, impatiently opening and reading it, he found therein as followeth.</P>
<LETTER LANG="eng">
<P>MY King, Lord, and Father: I dare not (though a&s;&s;ured of your good will) per&s;onally appeare before your Maje&s;ty, who&s;e roy|al face is the mo&s;t rigorous accu&s;er I can have of mine offences: If I had not fir&s;t recour&s;e by Letters, to the <HI>a&s;ylum</HI> of your clemency, which is the onely thing that can re&s;tore me into that favour, which not de&s;erving of my &s;elfe, I may by accu&s;ing mine owne unworthi|ne&s;&s;e, make my &s;elfe the more worthy to receive. My faults are many,
<PB N="57" REF="32">by which though there be no law left inviolated, yet there is none that makes me incapable of pardon: if you (my Lord) will be plea|&s;ed to remember your &s;elf to be my Father, and pardon me, &s;o farre as I forgot my &s;elf to be your Daughter, when I offended you. It is not unknown to me (Sir) that the remi&s;&s;ion of an exceeding great of|fence, is alwaies difficult to be granted, and many times unju&s;t, but the mercy of the Gods would not be in that predicament it is, were it not the malice of men; neither would darkne&s;&s;e differ from light as it doth, if oppo&s;ites were not illu&s;trated by their oppo&s;ites compared together: Behold &s;ir, your di&s;obedient daughter at your feet: Behold her in this po&s;ture, in &s;ign that the fatherly tenderne&s;s communicated to the whole world, and e&s;pecially to this excellent King of <HI>Sardinia,</HI> doth not take away the compunction, which repentance brings along with it to her, after the &s;in is committed. She craves pardon of you as a Father, mercy as a judge: and if in evills committed, the Delin|quent without aggravation of the enormities of them, may le&s;&s;en the fault, let it be lawfull for me &s;o to do, prote&s;ting unto you (Sir) that I do not this to make my &s;elf guiltle&s;&s;e, but becau&s;e I believe the fault of a weak, and not inveterate malice, may de&s;erve to have the paine and puni&s;hment mitigated and le&s;&s;ened. If I were to be judged by termes of ju&s;tice onely (without any rigour) I &s;hould be temera|ry in &mdash; For though there be no delict &s;o convincent, but it affords &s;ome &s;ub&s;tance of rea&s;on: Theft excu&s;ing it &s;elfe with poverty, Ho|micide with injury, and honour; yet I know the office of a judge is not to excu&s;e but puni&s;h offences. The defence I pretend, is be|fore a ju&s;t, but clement Judge, before a King, but a Father; &s;o that where ju&s;tice dejects me, Clemency encourages me, the favour, the love of the Judge, the King, the Father. Sir, Your Maje&s;ty e&s;pou&s;ed me, and the odious qualities of my Spou&s;e, which might &s;erve me for rea&s;ons, &s;hall be the highe&s;t article of mine accu&s;ations. I was con|tent therewith, and never did &s;o much as examine them: The &s;ame thing herein happened to me (Sir) as to tho&s;e who borne under the Pole, in the long &s;ix moneths nights, do not know the odiou&s;|ne&s;&s;e of darkne&s;&s;e, but the appearance of the Sunne. I thought in the darkne&s;&s;e of my &s;implicity, that a Husband was a thing indiffe|rent, that the name was &s;ufficient, men by me being reputed equall, and without any di&s;tinction. But when the Duke of <HI>Lucania</HI> came into the Court, mine eyes being fixed upon the form of his body, and my minde upon his inward vertues; I perceived that under the Cali|ginous darkne&s;&s;es of the Poles, there dwelt none but Pigmies, there flew none but Night-birds. I had by me the Pourtraiture of my pre|tended Husband, which, though adorned with all the advantages which the pencill could give; yet it &s;eemed to me in re&s;pect of the Duke, but a contemptible Dwarfe, if &s;o he might be called, and not rather &s;ome &s;trange and furious mon&s;ter. I knew by this difference, that which I had often before heard, but never under&s;tood. That a|mong&s;t men, there were &s;ome little le&s;&s;e then Gods, in re&s;pect of o|thers. Whereupon altering mine opinion, and by it forced to a new
<PB N="58" REF="33">match, it was not po&s;&s;ible for me to doe otherwi&s;e then I did. I might have &s;atisfied mine appetites, and obeyed you: I might have gone into <HI>Sicily,</HI> accompanied by <HI>Lucano,</HI> as well as by &s;o many other Princes entertain him there, and &s;atisfie my lu&s;ts till I had been glut|ted with them. But how would that have proved with me? I con|&s;ider not the dangers which might have happened from my Husband. I will grant our &s;ecre&s;ies might happily have obtained their wi&s;hed ends: Could I have &s;m othered the &s;inne within my &s;elf? Could I have found &s;ufficient re&s;i&s;tance again&s;t the battering ram of mine own con&s;cience? Could I have had &s;o brazen a face; as &s;hould not have blu&s;hed at the reflection of my di&s;graces? You will tell me, it had been my duty to reveale all this to your Maje&s;tie, and that you would not have enforced me to marry. But who would have a&s;&s;ured me of that? Had it not been better I &s;hould have been debarred of mine appetite, then you fal&s;ified your word? And if you had been re&s;ol|ved to grant me &s;o much; what di&s;orders, what &s;editions, what warres, might not have en&s;ued upon &s;uch an indulgency? Your ve|ry &s;ubjects, under pretence of the hone&s;ty of the cau&s;e, would have become your Enemies, through envy of <HI>Lucan's</HI> greatne&s;&s;e: and I &s;a|ving my true hone&s;ty, with the lo&s;&s;e of an appearing one, having taken all the fault upon my &s;elfe, have from mine evill in my &s;elfe, onely derived many good things upon others. The pre&s;ervation of your Maje&s;ties honour, of the lives, in the &s;ubjects, of forraine peace outwardly, of civill peace inwardly, and taken away the occa&s;ions of turning the world up&s;ide downe: and if it were nothing el&s;e, who will not &s;ay, but that the Gods for our good, have &s;uffered me to fall into this precipice whereinto I have fallen. Seeing that the Prince my Brothers death being decreed by providence, if mine error had not been, the mo&s;t noble Kingdome of <HI>Parthenope</HI> had been re|duced into a Province, and with what ruines, your Maje&s;ty may judge.</P>
<P>I will not enlarge my &s;elf, in rehear&s;ing the mi&s;adventures which befell me, I will leave the Hi&s;tory of them for the Count of <HI>Bona</HI> to recite: I will only &s;ay, that being gone away with Childe, leaving my Husband at my departure (as I then believed) cruelly murther|ed. I went into a place, where the angui&s;hes of my mind, and the &s;uf|ferings of my body might counterpoi&s;e &s;ome part of mine error. I brought forth a Sonne in a Cave, who is the very image of your Ma|je&s;ty, and with his beauties enlightned the horrors of my dark&s;ome habitation, holpen by the Dutche&s;s of <HI>Magna-Grecia;</HI> towards whom mine obligements are &s;o much the greater, that I marrying again&s;t all her di&s;&s;wa&s;ions and threatnings; &s;he would (being innocent) &s;ee|ing me peri&s;h irrecoverably, make her &s;elf guilty, and ruine with me, to the end I might not be utterly ca&s;t away: which had undoubtedly followed, if her motherly coun&s;ells had not a thou&s;and times relie|ved me from a thou&s;and deaths. <HI>Lucano</HI> then appearing to me alive, and meeting with the famous Prince <HI>Polimero,</HI> and the two valiant Prince&s;&s;es wife and Daughter: I came into <HI>Sardinia,</HI> where entertai|ned by this King, I received the advice of your good will towards
<PB N="59" REF="33">me, and had come my &s;elf to ki&s;s your feet therefore, if I had thought the &s;ame might have been permitted to <HI>Lucano.</HI> I hope (my Lord and Father) that by pardoning him al&s;o, you will &s;eal up the favour done to me alone, and having examined his qualities, you will be the le&s;&s;e angry, &s;eeing in my precipice, I betook my &s;elf to the great|e&s;t Prince within all your territories, and one of the worthie&s;t Knights on earth: while&s;t peradventure it may be imagined, that I have made choice of &s;ome per&s;on unworthy your royal &s;tate and mine. We will both of us acknowledge our pardon, to proceed from the &s;ingular piety and clemency of you our Soveraign, and I in the mean time &s;hall de&s;ire to be reputed as I am, and ever will be</P>
<CLOSER><SIGNED>Your Maje&s;ties Mo&s;t humble &s;ervant, and mo&s;t obedient Daughter <HI>Corianna.</HI></SIGNED></CLOSER>
</LETTER>
<P>THe King having read the Letter, &s;tood for a while pen&s;ive, which much troubled the Count of <HI>Bona,</HI> doubting it had brought forth &s;ome effect contrary to his expectation: a &s;u&s;pition which la&s;ted not long, for the King turning towards him with a cheer|ful countenance, &s;aid, Count <HI>Bona,</HI> I was alwaies well affected to|wards the Duke of <HI>Lucania,</HI> and loved him both for his Fathers me|rits, the nobility of his Family, and his own de&s;erts; but as for ma|king him my Son-in-law, I mu&s;t confe&s;&s;e it never &s;o much as entred into my thoughts.</P>
<P>Things are reduced to &s;uch a pa&s;&s;e, that if it be in vain to que|&s;tion them, it would be greater vanity and folly to pretend, that &s;hould not be which is already done: I will not vex at it, nor &s;econd human temerity, in ob&s;tinating my &s;elf again&s;t de&s;tiny: a more parti|cular an&s;wer I can not now give you. I would de&s;ire you to remain by me &s;ome few days, to receive it further in deeds then in words: only write this to <HI>Corianna,</HI> that at your return (which will be very &s;hortly) &s;he &s;hould prepare for hers, together with her Husband and my little Grand-child, which I de&s;ire to &s;ee above all the world. As concerning your King, I &s;ay no more for the pre&s;ent, but that both the world and him&s;elf &s;hall &s;hortly di&s;cover how much I acknow|ledge my &s;elf indebted to him for this pre&s;ent favour. The Count thought by the&s;e words, that his fir&s;t audience had bin fini&s;hed, when the King leaning upon a little Deske, de&s;ired him to relate the adven|tures of <HI>Lucano,</HI> and how being thought dead, he was now alive, and with his Daughter. The Count beginning at <HI>Coriannas</HI> inclinations, recounted unto him the marriage contracted unknown to the Dut|che&s;s of <HI>Magna-Grecia.</HI> How it was impo&s;&s;ible for her to break off tho&s;e fir&s;t affections, though &s;he had long &s;triven &s;o to do. That having di&s;covered &s;he was with child, the Prince of <HI>Sicilia</HI> upon comming, and &s;he re&s;olved to be gone, concluded not to for&s;ake her. He related her embarquement, the quarell with the Con&s;table, her flight to
<PB N="60" REF="34"><HI>Ericu&s;a,</HI> the Dukes pretended death, the manner how he was deli|vered, and how it was concealed. The advices received from <HI>Ericu&s;a;</HI> how &s;he went away, how &s;he arived thither with all particulars to make the ca&s;e more compa&s;&s;ionable, and lamentable.</P>
<P>The arrivall thither of the two Prince&s;&s;es <HI>Eromena</HI> and <HI>Lindadori</HI> with <HI>Polimero,</HI> brought thither a purpo&s;e by the Gount, to carry her away out of tho&s;e mi&s;eries. The meeting of <HI>Lucano:</HI> the ambiguities between the Prince&s;&s;e of <HI>Feacia</HI> and <HI>Almadero,</HI> things which did all fill the King with commi&s;eration, &s;hewing manife&s;t &s;ignes thereof by his tears. And having embraced the Count, thanked him as an in|&s;trument of finding his daughter, commanding all tho&s;e that belong|ed to him to &s;erve him as him&s;elf. Then calling his Councill toge|ther, cau&s;ed <HI>Corianna</HI>'s letter to be read in it, whereat if the wonder was great, the compa&s;&s;ion far &s;urpa&s;&s;ed; All &s;aying, <HI>Corianna</HI> had &s;aved the Kingdom of <HI>Parthenope</HI> out of cruell bondage by her error, and that being become the wife of a mo&s;t vertuous and noble Prince, &s;he merited ab&s;olute pardon. The King glad of his &s;ubjects inclinati|ons, made choice of &s;ix of the chief, committing it to their care, that well accompanied, they &s;hould bring out of <HI>Lucania Lucano</HI>'s Mother to him, with all honours due to a Queen. Which being done, within few daies &s;he was met by the King and brought to the Palace, where in the pre&s;ence of all the Barons he e&s;pou&s;ed her; to the end that &s;he being Queen, none &s;hould di&s;dain to accept of <HI>Lucano</HI> for Heir of the Kingdom. The Count of <HI>Bona</HI> (after the receipt of many rich pre|&s;ents) having taken his leave returned to <HI>Sardinia,</HI> accompanied with the Parthenopean Fleet full of Princes, and Knights. The joy which he brought with the&s;e good newes, was abated by the &s;uddain de|parture of <HI>Corianna. Eromena</HI> and her husband would have gone along with her, but being by the King retarded, they were content to take <HI>Lindadori</HI> along with them, who being arrived with a great train of Knights at <HI>Parthenope,</HI> re&s;igned the recovered Children to their Pa|rents, received with &s;uch affections as Nature and their former mi&s;|haps required. The little Prince (his former name being changed by his Grandfather) was called <HI>Fortunio,</HI> a change of a happy <HI>Omen,</HI> having had in all his &s;ub&s;equent cour&s;e of life, no remarkable misfortune, all terminating with his having been born in a Cave, and e&s;teemed to be a <HI>Po&s;thumus.</HI> But we will leave the&s;e Princes there, enjoying the plea|&s;ures of delightfull <HI>Parthenope;</HI> whil&s;t we returning to <HI>Feredo</HI> end the relation of his mi&s;adventures.</P>
<P>We left him going out of <HI>Feacia</HI> to continue his voyage, in which the winds were &s;o pro&s;perous to him, that in few daies having fur|rowed all the Mediterranean, not onely repenting the &s;trange cour&s;e of life he had undertaken in former times, and of his panick terrors, but al&s;o &s;o a&s;hamed, that he was even a &s;corn to him&s;elf, every time he did remember it. Being arrived into the Ocean Sea, the windes which hitherto had been propitious to him, became his enemies; dri|ving his &s;hip with &s;o much violence, that it proving impo&s;&s;ible for him to get into the Iri&s;h Seas, to go into &mdash; he was forced to &s;uffer
<PB N="61" REF="34">him&s;elf to be tran&s;ported into the channell between <HI>Gaules,</HI> and <HI>Albion.</HI> Neither had it been much lo&s;&s;e if he could have &s;et foot on &s;hore: but being forced to go on, he was driven with &s;uch violence of whirlwinds, rain and hail, that the &s;teers-man thinking him&s;elf lo&s;t, &s;uffered him&s;elf to be carried away, by the rage of that uncon|&s;tant Element, the fear growing on as the tempe&s;t increa&s;ed for ten daies together, without any hope of &s;afety. The flying &s;hip left in a &s;mall time on the left hand the Britains, Picts, Scots, and all the Orca|des, and on the right hand the Gaules, Batavians, Germans, and Cim|brians; and going out from thence, &s;he found the Sea open on the &s;ide, running all along the &s;hores of <HI>Norway,</HI> where &s;he was many times ready to &s;plit, running often over tho&s;e famous whirlepits of tho&s;e infamous &s;hores, warned of her dangers, by the roarings of &s;ub|terraneall places, which &s;wallowing up the &s;welling waves, would by intervalls &s;pew up again the foaming Seas. It was never in the &s;teers|mens powers, to &s;ail off from the land, as if they had been condem|ned by the Heavens, to pa&s;&s;e through all the mortall places, and con|&s;trained (not dying) to per&s;wade them&s;elves they could not live, in the &s;ight of approaching death. Twice did the turmoiled ve&s;&s;ell &s;top, the fir&s;t time at the Druides Rock, and the &s;econd at the Haven of the Iron rings. The Rock hath a wonderfull virtue of yeelding in all manner of windes, &s;ecure harbour for &s;aylors, and is &s;o called, becau&s;e to tho&s;e who look upon it, it &s;eems to be cloathed with &s;uch a habit as the <HI>Druides</HI> were. The Haven of the Iron Rings is a place &s;hut up from the winds, where the Rocks perpendicularly hewed out by nature, ri&s;e up to &s;uch a height as if they purpo&s;ed to touch the Heavens. They could not reach any bottom there, &s;o that neither with Anchors, nor yet with plummets, though they fa&s;tened &s;ounding line to line, they could not reach the &s;ands, which was the cau&s;e that the Norway Kings had cau&s;ed exceeding great iron rings to be cha&s;ed with led into the Rocks, to the end that the Cables fa&s;tned to tho&s;e rings might work the &s;ame effect, which they could not with Anchors attain, in &s;uch a deep aby&s;&s;e. <HI>Feredo</HI> begun to waver in his opinion, and the enraged tempe&s;ts, &s;erved him for arguments to per&s;wade him, that he was again per&s;ecuted by his Si&s;ters infernall furies. He would willingly have gone back, if he had known how. <HI>Ericu&s;a's</HI> plea&s;ant and happy ea&s;e was again repre&s;ented to his eyes, and made the pre&s;ent bu&s;ine&s;&s;e &s;eem the more unhappy to him. Oh how willingly would he have gone a &s;hore: But which way? with what guides? what pro|vi&s;ions? who would have drawn him out of the &s;hip upon tho&s;e Rocks? and if he could have climbed up there, what could he have gained? they being inhabited by nothing but Bears, nor rich in any thing but perpetuall Chri&s;talline &s;nows? amid&s;t &s;o many evills one good onely remained to him: and among&s;t &s;o many cau&s;es of de&s;pair he had one onely comfort, to have met with a &s;ea&s;on in which the Sun running through the Northern &s;ignes, cau&s;ed there perpetuall day, otherwi&s;e if he had been there when tho&s;e climates, by rea&s;on of the Suns pa&s;&s;ing through the oppo&s;ite &s;ignes, had been all dark, he had
<PB N="62" REF="35">been inevitably lo&s;t. Hee had in ten daies onely run out &s;o many de|grees of latitude, that the difference of the daies, would have &s;erved him for a demon&s;tration, though he had wanted in&s;truments to doe it, having found when he was in the mouth of the Mediterranean Sea, the day of fourteen hours, and here in the &s;ixty ninth degree, not a jot of night. Good Fortune it was that the Squires by the Mariners per&s;wa&s;ions, had in the ports within the &s;treights made new provi&s;i|ons, which had not been done, had they not been of a Princes train. The provi&s;ions of <HI>Feacia</HI> (excepting &s;ome few refre&s;hments and wa|ter) being &s;o abundant, that it would have been &s;ufficient till their arrivall to North-<HI>Wales.</HI> The liberality which was due to the Princes per&s;on, a&s;&s;i&s;ted them, otherwi&s;e that dammage which neither wind nor foul weather could do them, had &s;urely come upon them by want of victualls. So &s;oon as they were come into harbour, the skie &s;eemed to clear up, and the &s;hip being viewed and &s;earched, the leakes and dammages of it were amended, and having &s;o done, they drew out, carefully to con&s;ider upon their return. The Northern Ocean is not &s;ubject to the violence of Southern winds; <HI>Feredoes</HI> &s;hip excepted, which was continually &s;ubject to its &s;cornes. For having Taper (as it were) in ambu&s;h for it, and given it leave to &s;ail &s;o far, as it &s;hould not be able to return back, it &s;uddenly &s;hewed it &s;elf, con|&s;training it to lower its &s;ailes, and turn its foredeck another way, yet all without danger, giving way for it to go We&s;t-ward, &amp; to bear up in her &s;ailing a little to the South. The Sun had vi&s;ibly run three diurnal Circles (though without &s;etting) before he di&s;covered any land, when the fourth day came in &s;ight of the utmo&s;t Tile, and there he took har|bour without any let. <HI>Feredo</HI> was &s;o tired with his continuall di&s;a&s;ters, that he would willingly have parted with the Kingdom of <HI>Northwales</HI> for one little &s;ecure Cell, it repenting him extreamly that ever he had for&s;aken <HI>Ericu&s;a,</HI> and therefore much blaming <HI>Cataulo</HI> who had chiefly per&s;waded him thereunto, He went a &s;hore, to recreate him&s;elf, in|tending not to tru&s;t to the Sea untill the weather were better &s;etled. It &s;eemed impo&s;&s;ible to him under the Artick where Northern winds are mo&s;t frequent, they &s;eemed to be bani&s;ht, onely from him; and having oftentimes heard and read, that it was an ordinary thing to buy a wind in that country, he would willingly have met with a Merchant to furni&s;h him, re&s;olved at any rate to purcha&s;e one, to free him out of all the&s;e troubles. Being come a &s;hore, he was followed by <HI>Cataulo,</HI> with tho&s;e few &s;ervants remained with him at his come|ing from <HI>Ericu&s;a.</HI> And being come to the uttermo&s;t part of the Ha|ven, he wondred that he could &s;ee no body there, when not far from thence he e&s;pied a Lady in rich accou&s;trements, hooded with black, which beckoned him to follow her, going forward and looking back as if &s;he intended to &s;tay for him. <HI>Cataulo</HI> &s;tayed a little behind with the re&s;t, not daring to approach too near the incen&s;ed and pen&s;ive Prince, who not knowing what to think of the per&s;on, and her invita|tion, could not imagine her to be any one he knew, but rather &s;ome unfortunate creature by tempe&s;t as well as him&s;elf ca&s;t upon that I&s;land. He went on, to be re&s;olved, and hearing a great
<PB N="63" REF="35">deal of whi&s;pering behind him, he turned about, and &s;aw his follow|ers courteou&s;ly entertained by others, who &s;eemed to him to be peo|ple of that Country, come thither a purpo&s;e upon termes of ho&s;pi|tality or the like: Whereunto his former curio&s;ity not permitting him to give heed, he followed the Lady, which having pulled off her hood, to &s;ee whether he came after her or no, &s;till pur&s;uing her way. <HI>Feredo</HI> who at fir&s;t &s;ight thought her to be <HI>Gelinda,</HI> &s;tood &s;till, feare having cau&s;ed his haire to &s;tand an end; which &s;he perceiving, with a hoar&s;e and terrible voice, &s;aid unto him: Follow me <HI>Feredo,</HI> I yet remember thee, and moreover that I was thy Si&s;ter. The&s;e la&s;t words (though terrible) emboldened the Knight, who a&s;hamed of him&s;elf, drew nigh to her, &s;he taking him by the hand, and with a di&s;dainful &s;mile, replying unto him, that he &s;hould not feare, led him out of the way, to the foot of a Mountaine, encompa&s;&s;ed with roar|ing flames; and being arrived into a &s;ulphurous field, all covered over with a&s;hes, they found a King lying along (for &s;uch he &s;eemed by his a&s;pect, habit, and Crown) who upon their approach &s;tood up, and &s;aid unto them: Prince&s;&s;e <HI>Gelinda,</HI> is this that <HI>Feredo,</HI> who was once your Brother, whom you &s;pake to me of not long &s;ince. It is replyed &s;he: I wil (quoth he) at your reque&s;t leave him free, conditionally he will e&s;pou&s;e that <HI>Igene,</HI> which was once your Daughter: and I will, &s;aid he, free the &s;aid <HI>Igene</HI> upon condition that having refu&s;ed me, &s;he will be content to take him. And where &s;hall he find her, replyed <HI>Gelinda?</HI> It is not needfull for him (&s;aid the King) to know it. De&s;tiny overtakes him that flyes it, and vani&s;heth from him that pur&s;ues it: Give him but time, and he &s;hall find her without look|ing for her.</P>
<P>Having thus &s;aid, he vani&s;hed with the la&s;t accent, to the great a&s;to|ni&s;hment of the Prince, who being left alone with <HI>Gelinda,</HI> &s;he &s;aid unto him; <HI>Feredo,</HI> I proceed with thee contrary to the laws of the Kingdom wherein now I am, and contrary to the nature of the &s;ex in which I was born, which is implacable, e&s;pecially when loving, they are an&s;wered with cruelty and ingratitude: I am nece&s;&s;itated to take this cour&s;e, for the torment I put thee to, troubles me more then the revenge I take thereby, can comfort me: believe not mine to be piety, the &s;plendor of vertue hath no place in the&s;e tenebrous Kingdoms. Among&s;t all my puni&s;hments, the greate&s;t is, that I love thee; yet if my affection had been laudable, I &s;hould love thee no more. The habits which afford any comfort are excluded form us, otherwi&s;e the damned were not utterly deprived of &s;ome kind of happine&s;&s;e. I loved thee in &s;uch manner as I ought not, &s;o that my puni&s;hment would not be conformable to my delict, if I did not love thee &s;till. And becau&s;e my torments &s;hall be greater now after my death then when I was alive, this love remaines &s;till with me, as well without hope or ends, as without that body in which &s;uch affections terminated. If where I am, we took &s;uch delight in revenge as they do in the world, I would torment thee as I have done hitherto: but vices in this place, though they abound above all mea&s;ure, yet are
<PB N="64" REF="36">they not accompanied (&s;eeing we have no &s;ences) with the plea&s;ures of &s;ence. Therefore I free thee, to be le&s;&s;e afflicted my &s;elf. Goe e&s;pou&s;e <HI>Igene,</HI> none el&s;e if thou love&s;t thy &s;elf: aske me not the rea|&s;on why, for thou can&s;t have none. Providence is one of the chief among&s;t the &s;ecrets of Divinity. Thus thou mu&s;t do; thus I will have the doe, or live unmarried. Having &s;poken the&s;e words, and &s;hed &s;ome few teares, looking upon him de&s;pightfully, &s;he vani&s;hed. <HI>Fe|redo</HI> could not open his mouth, nor utter a word all the while he was deluded by the&s;e Phanta&s;mes; and finding him&s;elf alone, he was for|ced to abandon him&s;elf to human tenderne&s;&s;e, and lament his &s;i&s;ters mi&s;eries related to him by her Gho&s;t; yet rejoycing that he &s;hould for the future be free'd from her per&s;ecutions. The injunction to e&s;pou&s;e one <HI>Igene,</HI> whom he did not know, did trouble him, for joy|ning things pa&s;t with the pre&s;ent, he was per&s;waded he &s;hould be nece&s;&s;itated &s;o to do, or &s;uffer many di&s;a&s;ters, according to the tenor of her threats and menaces; but however, he thought his condition much bettered, it being left to his own choice, either to marry her, or live unmarried; and being a&s;&s;ured as touching his voyage, it &s;hould be without any danger of tempe&s;ts but only naturall ones, which were not to be feared in that &s;ea&s;on, the Sun being near the point of the &s;ummer &s;ol&s;tice. Being therefore upon departure, he heard on the other &s;ide of the Mountaine, a great cry of hounds, and advan|cing towards the corner of it, which hindred the &s;ight of them, he e&s;pied two young Cavaliers well mounted. The memory of which time having not blotted out of his mind, repre&s;ented un|to him the two decea&s;ed Princes his brothers: if their unlooked for pre&s;ences were horrible to him, he might well be execu&s;ed, e&s;pecial|ly &s;eeing that being come nigh to him, while the fir&s;t was ready to wound a Stag which was clo&s;e by him, the other run him through with his &s;word, and cau&s;ed him to fall from his Hor&s;e, at the &s;ame in&s;tant as the Stag running at him, without doing him any further harme, threw him above twenty yards from the place of the ground where he &s;tood at fir&s;t opening and &s;wallowing up the Princes: with their Hor&s;es and Dogs, with &s;o much terror to him, that without any longer &s;tay, he returned back, and was met by his followers, not knowing nor under&s;tanding any thing which was &s;aid to him. <HI>Cataulo</HI> troubled to find him in &s;uch ca&s;e, conveyed him into the &s;hip, and pre&s;ently cau&s;ed the Marriners to hoi&s;t their &s;ailes, which were in|&s;tantly filled with the mo&s;t pro&s;perous gale that had blown all that voyage. Being come to him&s;elf again, and examining what was pa&s;t, he would not believe it though he had &s;een it, his &s;ence being not able to alledge any thing unto him, which the readine&s;&s;e of his intel|lect was not capable with &s;ufficient arguments to refell. He de&s;ired to know of <HI>Cataulo,</HI> what had befallen to the re&s;t of the company, who related unto him how they had all been met, &s;ome by Kin&s;men, and &s;ome by friends, who &s;haking hands with them, and welcoming them to the place: and while they doubted (knowing tho&s;e to be dead long before) what the meaning of this &s;hould be, they all vani&s;hed
<PB N="65" REF="36">away. That the &s;ame thing had befallen the Marriners, the &s;hip being on a &s;uddain filled with &s;ome of their old acquaintances, no man knowing how. Wherefore they began to e&s;teem that to be true which before they held to be fabulous, namely, that the Iland was di&s;inhabited on that &s;ide, a habitation onely for &s;uch as died by the &s;word, &s;hipwrack, or the like ca&s;ualties. <HI>Feredo</HI> having heard what had befallen others, concealed his own adventures: yet he could not for|get the name of <HI>Igene,</HI> de&s;iring to know together with the per&s;on, the truth of what had befallen him. They &s;ailed three daies without di&s;covering any land at all, at the end of which they di&s;covered the <HI>Orcades,</HI> want of water con&s;trained them to put into the Harbour of <HI>Pomona,</HI> on that &s;ide which is towards the Calidonian Sea. <HI>Feredo</HI> went a &s;hore, to &s;ee the Country, and to recreate him&s;elf with walking. There was in that Harbour but one &s;hip, driven in thither by foul weather, and there ca&s;t away while it thought for &s;afety, &s;inking up a|bove half way into the &s;and. The fir&s;t thing he e&s;pied after he came a &s;hore, was the funerall of a man of an hundred and fifty years of age, who marrying at one hundred, and having gotten a Son, died whil&s;t he was fi&s;hing at Sea with him, without any pain or &s;ickne&s;&s;e, the oil of his vitall lamp being quite &s;pent. Some would have taken that for a bad <HI>Omen;</HI> but he did not, interpreting it thus: That his evills being come to a period, and de&s;tinie tired with mole&s;ting him, he &s;hould now for ever remain free from all violences of pain and dolour. Hee did with &s;ome kind of envy admire, the happine&s;&s;e of that people in the purity of nature, not covetous, not ambitious, content with little, of a long and healthfull life; thanks to their ignorance of vices and di&s;orders. While&s;t hee di&s;cour&s;ed thus within him&s;elf touching the e&s;tate of man, and preferred naturall &s;implicity to the &s;uperfluities of Fortune, there in his &s;ight came an aged Knight, who &s;ad in a&s;pect walked not far from him, and &s;eemed to revolve many things with|in the va&s;t compa&s;&s;e of his thoughts. His quality and habit, but mo&s;t of all his venerable countenance &s;o attracted the Princes eyes, that he waxed de&s;irous to di&s;cour&s;e with him.</P>
<P><HI>Cataulo,</HI> who likewi&s;e had fixed his eyes upon him, &s;aid, look (let me be&s;eech your Highne&s;&s;e, on yonder antient Knights behaviour, I believe he is of that &s;hip which lies &s;unk in the Harbour) It would be great cruelty to leave him here, whence peradventure he will not have opportunity to get out of a long time. <HI>Feredo</HI> inclined to com|pa&s;&s;ion, and curious to under&s;tand who he was, went towards him, while the other lifting up his eyes e&s;pied him clo&s;e to him; and find|ing him &s;uch an one as &s;eemed worthy of much re&s;pect, made a pro|found obei&s;ance to him. The Prince &s;aluting him, demanded whether he were of that place? I am not, an&s;wered the Knight, but a little while &s;ince, and that by misfortune, for having undertaken to be a guide to a great Lady for her &s;afeguard, I have in this place lo&s;t both her and my &s;elf. Tears are not commonly incident to any but women and children; if they happen to flow from a man of a promi&s;ing a&s;|pect, they mu&s;t be &s;uppo&s;ed to proceed from great cau&s;e. This
<PB N="66" REF="37">Knight abounded in them; &s;o that the Prince comforting him, and making &s;ome proffers of of courte&s;ie to him &s;aid, If adver&s;ities might admit of compari&s;on, or be weighed in a ballance, there would (a|mong &s;o many unhappy ones) be but one unfortunate man in the world. But there is not any one but in this evill doth repute him&s;elf far in a wor&s;e ca&s;e then his companion. One &s;ence doth not exclude another. They have all their pa&s;&s;ions, and though le&s;&s;e burthen&s;ome, yet hath the blind man no le&s;&s;e rea&s;on to complain of his blindne&s;&s;e, becau&s;e the deaf man hath more occa&s;ion to bemoan his deafne&s;&s;e. For then one infirmitie would be a medicine to another, which is not &s;o. Nature gave us our being, a thing good in it &s;elf: But if &s;he gave us a bad one, we have great rea&s;on to cry to Heaven, being deceived, and brought forth to evill under pretence of good. It is true never|thele&s;&s;e that fellow&s;hip in misfortunes, though it doth not altogether free, yet it doth in &s;ome part mitigate the grief of the heart. Which be|ing &s;o, it may be &s;ome comfort to you, that the world is for the mo&s;t part ful of &s;uch kind of people. Now if &s;hipwrack be the only cau&s;e of your moan, becau&s;e you are thereby di&s;abled to conduct the Lady you &s;peak of, whither you intended: I have here a &s;hip wherewith I am &s;ayling into <HI>Albion,</HI> it &s;hall be at her &s;ervice here, and when we come thither &s;he &s;hall have more if &s;he wants them, the Gods having made me &s;uch, that I &s;hall be able to &s;erve her in this, or any other thing as &s;hall require mine aid or a&s;&s;i&s;tance. The Knight hearing the&s;e proffers, would have ca&s;t him&s;elf at his feet to give him humble thanks, but <HI>Feredo</HI> courteou&s;ly taking him up, the Knight went on in this manner; Sir, your courte&s;ies are &s;o tran&s;cendent, that if I did not verily believe them to proceed from the generous minde of &s;ome great Prince, I &s;hould imagine I did but dream. My pre&s;ent e&s;tate in this de&s;ert Iland remote from the re&s;t of the world, having in my charge the faire&s;t and mo&s;t excellent Prince&s;&s;e that ever was born in the North, cau&s;eth me to accept of your favourable proffers, our nece&s;&s;i|tie being onely to get out from hence, fortune having done us no further harme then breaking of our &s;hip, our other goods being al&s;o well pre&s;erved, that we &s;hall not need to be burthen&s;ome to any for ought el&s;e. So that if &s;he receive this favour from you, <HI>Albion</HI> &s;hall from henceforth be her native Country, e&s;pecially if &s;he may there live &s;ecure under your protection. <HI>Feredo</HI> no &s;ooner heard that &s;he was born in the North, but remembring his la&s;t vi&s;ions in <HI>Tile,</HI> he was much moved at it, humbly de&s;iring the old Knight to tell him who &s;he was, and how arrived into that Iland: and he, after he had excu&s;ed him&s;elf, &s;aying, he &s;hould be enforced to &s;atisfie him, to fetch his hi&s;tory from far off, began in this wi&s;e.</P>
<P><HI>Scandinavia,</HI> a va&s;t Country, and through its greatne&s;&s;e, little le&s;&s;e then unknown (being &s;eparate from other Countries, in the mouth of the Baltick Sea, and its &s;cituation being in the highe&s;t part of the Earth, &s;ubject to continuall fro&s;ts) is divided into &s;everal Kingdoms, whereof the third place is worthily attributed to <HI>Norway;</HI> who&s;e la&s;t King was <HI>Theodogilus,</HI> born to repre&s;ent unto us two contraries in one,
<PB N="67" REF="37">and the &s;elfe &s;ame &s;ubject; a paradox very fal&s;e in the common opi|nion of men, but in effect proved mo&s;t true; either becau&s;e con|&s;tancy in good actions is incompatible with men, or becau&s;e they be|ing &s;o imperfect, may learn not to tru&s;t to them&s;elves, and fear that they may &s;ometimes deviate from good inclinations, the violence of nature drawing them continually to evill. That Country loves li|berty above all other Nations of the world: their Kings are elective, and they abhor Hereditary &s;ucce&s;&s;ions, unle&s;&s;e the Kings Children or next Heirs, make them&s;elves recommendable by their own vertues. But there is not any thing &s;o good or &s;o ju&s;t, but if it decline from the mean to either extream, it becomes unju&s;t and evill: for though ci|vill liberty be among&s;t the number of good things, yet while&s;t to e&s;tabli&s;h it &s;elf, it pretends to exclude the Tyrant, it happens often|times, that by the excluding of one, they frame an infinite number of them, an evill &s;o much the more abominable in this, that a bad Prince dying, may (by his death) give place to a good one, whereas the people never dying, can not make way to any amendment. I do not propound this unto you, (&s;ir Knight) to di&s;pute it, but to &s;hew you the con&s;equences of it. A principality guarded with good Lawes, as it is the mo&s;t perfect among&s;t all Governments; &s;o a popular liber|ty, which hath no other end but that liberty which &s;tinks of <HI>Demo|cracy,</HI> can not chu&s;e but be hurtful to the Common-wealth, for the ab&s;olute authority of puni&s;hing offences, being taken away from the &s;upreme Magi&s;trate, (which is his mo&s;t nece&s;&s;ary part) produces no|thing but power of the wicked: &s;o that in &s;tead of a Prince acciden|tally bad, there ari&s;eth a people &s;ub&s;tantially excelling in wickedne&s;s. <HI>Norway</HI> hath its &s;imply naturall vices and vertues (I &s;peak of the ge|nerality) good and bad inclinations, which make good and evil men. For as for tho&s;e vertues, who&s;e onely end and aime is heavenly, they have there but evill entertainment, being e&s;teemed pu&s;illanimities, and effects of a ba&s;e mind. Therefore precepts leading to the &s;u|preme good, are as &s;carce, as the examples to evill abounding, where|fore he who there proves but meanly good, is among them as he is among&s;t other Nations, who de&s;erves to be &s;et down in letters of Gold in the Catalogue of the be&s;t, the chief vertue among&s;t them is valour, I will not &s;ay temerity, for fear I &s;hould incur hatred for &s;peaking of this truth. And young men which will not run into dangers that are more then ordinary, are in no e&s;teem. Neither mu&s;t you imagine dan|gers to be there waning, &s;eeing that in offending of others, is their budding, and in offences con&s;i&s;ts the prize of de&s;ired honour: &s;o that hee who makes lea&s;t u&s;e of rea&s;on, is by vertue of that abu&s;e more e&s;teemed then others: and he that can afterward conquer tho&s;e who have by him been abu&s;ed, a&s;cends to the height of glory, no otherwi&s;e then if he had killed <HI>Hydraes, Pithons,</HI> or the like Mon&s;ters: for tho&s;e indeed ought to be e&s;teemed Mon&s;ters, who purcha&s;e pow|er and wealth by the harm of peaceable and innocent men. <HI>Theodogi|lus</HI> was of this la&s;t number, before he gained the Crown, having by &s;uch means made him&s;elf worthy of it: tho&s;e of the Royal blood,
<PB N="68" REF="38">(as being de&s;cended from <HI>Scodoveus</HI> their ancient King) being held in no e&s;teem.</P>
<P>There raigned at that time in <HI>Norway Rollo,</HI> a Prince no le&s;&s;e good then valiant, Father of one only Daughter, fair <HI>Tamaris,</HI> who&s;e fame had infected with love, mo&s;t hearts in <HI>Scandinavia:</HI> He being grown old, had no plea&s;ure left, but onely his fatherly affection, &s;o much more worthy of prai&s;e, as it was mo&s;t worthily be&s;towed upon &s;o worthy a Daughter. He would have married her to his &s;ucce&s;&s;or, but the Lawes, if they did not forbid it, did notwith&s;tanding make it very difficult to him, re&s;ignations of the Crown being not permitted, nor new elections &s;uffered till the death of Kings. She was de&s;ired by great Princes, e&s;pecially him of <HI>Dacia,</HI> and the great King of <HI>Swedes</HI> and <HI>Gothes</HI> (he who this day u&s;urpes the titles of King of <HI>Scandinavia</HI>) but the &s;tatutes of the Kingdom oppo&s;ed it, marriages (e&s;pecially of Kings Daughters) being forbidden out of the &s;tate, and he re&s;olved not to marry her to any private per&s;on; which though it was much to the maidens dammage, yet &s;he did not re&s;pect it for the rea&s;on which I &s;hall tell you.</P>
<P>Among&s;t the many abu&s;es of that Kingdom, cau&s;ed through the afore&s;aid popular liberty, there is an ancient and in&s;ufferable one, namely, that a man may a&s;pire to the marriage of any woman; though &s;he be never &s;o much above him in fortunes and blood, &s;o the preten|der have but &s;trength and courage enough to defend her again&s;t any rivall what&s;oever, for a whole yeares &s;pace, it being &s;uppo&s;ed, that valour is equivalent to nobility, from whence derives the merit of po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ing a perfect beauty, and all tho&s;e trea&s;ures and wealth &s;he is endowed with. There lived amid&s;t the highe&s;t hills of <HI>Norway</HI> in tho&s;e dayes, an exceeding fierce man, little le&s;&s;e then of a Giant-like &s;tature, who having with his Robberies mole&s;ted all the high-wayes there-abouts, being touched with remor&s;e, betook him&s;elf to freeing them from all &s;uch who after him u&s;ed that trade; his name was <HI>Brancicone:</HI> He abhorred all manner of company, only a Dog he had, which like him&s;elf was cruel and fierce: He dur&s;t have encountred and &s;et upon whole &s;quadrons of armed men, &s;econded by this Ma&s;tiffe. Now after infinite Robberies, Thefts, and Murthers com|mitted, being converted (as I &s;aid) to wel-doing, he grew into &s;uch good repute, that by &s;ome fooli&s;h fellowes he was e&s;teemed worthy to &s;ucceed <HI>Rollo:</HI> and to &s;peak the truth, he did &s;uch things for the good of Travailers, as he might have de&s;erved it, if the parts of his mind had had any Analogy with the vigour of his body; or his bea&s;tly &s;trength, any corre&s;pondency with humanity and rea&s;on. But he had nothing of man in him, but one (and that ill regulated) namely de|&s;ire of glory: which having cau&s;ed him to abandon his former cour&s;e of life, had whetted him to a de&s;ire of performing great and glorious actions, wherewith being grown proud, he afterwads a&s;pired (be|ing reduced to a more cultivated, or at lea&s;t, a le&s;&s;e uncivil manner of life) to the marriage of <HI>Tamaris.</HI> I know not whether love incited him to it, or rather his new-grown ambition, for having never &s;een
<PB N="69" REF="38">her, the meer report of her beauty could hardly have inflamed &s;uch a bruti&s;h heart as his: I rather believe, that having made him&s;elf formidable amid&s;t the Woods, he de&s;ired al&s;o to become famous in Court, not content that the fame of his actions only &s;hould reach thi|ther, unle&s;&s;e their eyes al&s;o were witne&s;&s;es of them; imagining that though <HI>Tamaris</HI> beauty and de&s;ert had not been &s;o excellent as it was, yet he &s;hould not be &s;uffered to have her without oppo&s;ition; his de|&s;cent being well known, and his merit to be none other but onely the de&s;ire he had to purcha&s;e it, by means of his &s;avage &s;trength. His comming to Court was much admired, being known there only by name, and his reque&s;t much more wondered at. For finding the King amid&s;t his Councel, he asked him, with ru&s;tick and irreverenr termes, for his daughter to wife; offering according to the Law, to ap|prove him&s;elf worthy of her, again&s;t who&s;oever &s;hould oppo&s;e him. <HI>Rollo</HI> gna&s;hed his teeth for anger, and though old, could have wi&s;h|ed he might have been admitted to the battel to puni&s;h his arrogancy, but it not being permitted him (none being to enter the li&s;t but Ri|vals) he was forced to yeeld to the tyranny of cu&s;tome, and having deputed to him the field and year, a&s;&s;igned him the reward, in ca&s;e he &s;hould remaine Conqueror. Many had formerly intention to have &s;u|ed for her, but knowing the enterprize to be difficult, (extraordinary and noble beauties being not to be obtained, but with extraordina|ry danger) they had forborn. Di&s;dain, and the per&s;ons unworthi|ne&s;&s;e, had cau&s;ed many to re&s;olve upon that which bare affection could not move them to tell then: &s;o that the deputed month being pa&s;t from the publication of the field, the City was in a manner fuller of Combatants then of beholders. The maintainer was obliged but to one Combat in a day; but if he had any wounds given him, his dayes of cure were accompted to him, and contrary-wi&s;e tho&s;e made good to him, in which he being ready to fight no adventurers &s;hould appear: and if a battaile were not ended in one or more dayes, the&s;e did al&s;o runne on for his advantage Yet he never de&s;ired to enjoy the advantage of one only battel a day, killing or overcoming many times five or &s;ix Knights in that time: for &s;eeing the multitude of Rivals who &s;trove to notifie them&s;elves (being not admitted to fight, but according to the order of the Regi&s;ter) he thought it would be a di&s;paragement to him, if he did not overcome them all, neither could he have &s;o done, if he had not deprived him&s;elfe (as he did) of the advantage which the Law gave him. The&s;e li&s;ts did not begin but a month after the vernall equinoctial, and if they had not la&s;ted a whole year (which never happened) the ancient Kings (<HI>Trondona</HI> the Royal Sea, being in &s;ixty five degrees, &s;o that the day in the brumal &s;ol&s;tice, was not above two or thee hours long, and the Earth covered with fro&s;ts and &s;now) had to this end built in the Court for this pur|po&s;e, a covered Tilt-yard, where in de&s;pight of the aire and wea|ther, Knights might fight without any di&s;commodity, looked upon from Balconies and Galleries placed on three &s;ides of it, the fourth being left open to the Southward, towards the oblique beames of the
<PB N="70" REF="39">low Sun in that elevated Clime, and if the battell had not been en|ded before night (as it often chanced) then upon reque&s;t of the two Champions lights were granted them; but there was no need thereof at this time, the contention being ended before the long nights came in, as I &s;hal declare unto you. <HI>Theodogilus</HI> was then two &amp; twenty years of age, and as he was be&s;t proportioned for bodily beauty of all the young men of his age; &s;o was he the mo&s;t noble of blood, among&s;t the antient Families of the Kingdom; deriving his pedegree from the antiente&s;t and mo&s;t renounced Kings of <HI>Norway.</HI> He had famed him|&s;elf in &s;everall actions though he was but young, with particular proofs of ine&s;timable valour. He loved <HI>Tamaris</HI> &s;ecretly, and &s;he him: He had oftentimes de&s;ired her to give him leave to demand her in marriage of her Father, but &s;he would not con&s;ent, overcome with fears of imaginary oppo&s;itions, love (e&s;pecially where there are difficulties and dangers) being almo&s;t as well enjoyed in hopes, as in fruition. And though <HI>Theodogilus</HI> did many times remon&s;trate unto her, that it mu&s;t needs one day come to that pa&s;&s;e; yet knew &s;he not, either how to deny or con&s;ent unto him: having re&s;olv'd within her &s;elf to de|fer her wedding til after her fathers decea&s;e, when being free &s;he might di&s;po&s;e of her &s;elf as &s;he plea&s;ed. <HI>Brancicone</HI> had &s;carce made his odious propo&s;ition, but <HI>Theodogilus</HI> pre&s;ently intending to regi&s;ter him&s;elf, it was ab&s;olutely forbidden him by <HI>Tamaris,</HI> without giving him any rea&s;on for it: excu&s;ing her &s;elf upon a curio&s;ity &s;he had to &s;ee fir&s;t how others fared, &s;aying, that within &s;ome few daies &s;he would give him leave. But many daies and months being pa&s;t, and <HI>Brancicone</HI> having already kiled or overcome above two hundred Knights, <HI>Theodogilus</HI> re|&s;olved to di&s;obey her. She could now no longer keep him out of dan|ger, by her fir&s;t plot of &s;taying till her Fathers decea&s;e; nece&s;&s;itated to fall into the hands of him that gained her. But &s;he imagined his dan|ger might prove le&s;&s;e, if &s;he could procure him to be the la&s;t comba|tant. For if <HI>Brancicone</HI> proved conqueror, there remained no more ri|valls, all the danger ending with him; and if he fell, the danger would likewi&s;e be the le&s;&s;e, the greate&s;t number of the competitors being already overcome, and the adver&s;arie (though victorious) of more equall forces, then <HI>Brancicone. Theodogilus</HI> on the other &s;ide, had al&s;o his inward di&s;cour&s;es of mind. And though heretofore he had ne|ver repre&s;ented to him&s;elf, <HI>Tamaris</HI> her love to be great towards him, (lovers never content with any demon&s;tration of love though never &s;o ardent) yet hee now complained of an exce&s;&s;e. Ex|ce&s;&s;e which never lover knew, though he were never &s;o wel beloved. Neither had he known it, without the Mathemati|call per&s;pective of honour. He con&s;idered that he was in Court, in &s;ight of all. And which was more, judged mo&s;t worthy and equall for this match. So that though he had not loved her, honour forced him to demand her, which if he did not do, who could have judged it to proceed from any thing but want of magnanimity and courage to render him (and that with very good cau&s;e) for the future abject and de&s;picable in the worlds fight? having therefore a&s;&s;embled toge|ther
<PB N="71" REF="39">in the Councel chamber of his thoughts tho&s;e three unappealable Judges, Love, Honour, and Rea&s;on. He received by two votes, a de|cree publi&s;hed with applau&s;e of all &s;ound judgements. Namely, that women were to be re&s;pected, Idolized, beloved, but not obeyed (love prote&s;ting again&s;t the word &mdash; obey) which decree he now made u&s;e of. Among&s;t all the adventurers who had entred them&s;elves for this battail, there were &s;ome who were moved more by compa&s;&s;ion then love, the conditions of <HI>Brancicone</HI> &s;eeming to them &s;o unequall to tho&s;e of <HI>Tamaris,</HI> that they were a&s;hamed thereof. <HI>Aderedo</HI> was repu|ted to be of this number, though he were not, being long before en|flamed by the Prince&s;&s;es merits. But he had concealed his affection, not becau&s;e he thought him&s;elf unworthy of her, but becau&s;e he e&s;teemed her worthy of richer fortunes. He was of a very noble birth, a friend to <HI>Theodogilus,</HI> and beholding to him in many occa&s;ions, void of all blemi&s;h, or &s;pot, but onely that of poverty, to wa&s;h him of which, <HI>Teodogilus</HI> had not only furni&s;hed him with hor&s;es and armour, but by an unheard of example, had endowed him with al his goods. They had not communicated their loves to each other (the only portent to be admired at, in all their friend&s;hip) for <HI>Aderedo</HI> never imagined occa|&s;ion &s;hould be pre&s;ented to him to have her: and would never have reque&s;ted her (as <HI>Brancicone</HI> did) in &s;o di&s;equall an e&s;tate: &s;uch terms being unu&s;uall among&s;t civill and courteous per&s;ons. And <HI>The|odogilus</HI> becau&s;e he would &s;hew two things; A &s;uper&s;titious religion in love, and a &s;ecrecie, &s;o much the more commendable, as it was diffi|cult to be imitated by &s;uch a young man as he was. There remained now but three Knights regi&s;tred for the battel before <HI>Aderedo,</HI> which were by him reputed unable to overcome <HI>Brancicone,</HI> though they had all three been joyned together like another <HI>Gerion.</HI> He diffided not in him&s;elf, neither had the adver&s;aries fiercene&s;&s;e, manife&s;ted in the death of &s;o many whom he had &s;lain, any whit di&s;mayed his cou|rage; &s;o that he did not onely hope for the victory, but held him&s;elf as it were a&s;&s;ured thereof. Whether it were that his heart pre&s;aging he &s;hould not fight, had no apprehen&s;ion of fear. Or becau&s;e a gene|rous mind, dareth mo&s;t, where the way to honour and fame lieth o|pen to him with mo&s;t danger. He never pretended to have <HI>Tamaris</HI> to wife (as I &s;aid before) thinking the merits of &s;o high a Prince&s;&s;e did evill agree with his poverty. But afterwards judging any husband would prove fitter for her, then &s;uch a poor, ba&s;e, and be&s;tiall ru&s;tick, he re&s;olved to that for charity and hone&s;ty, whereunto a di&s;creet love had not had power to per&s;wade him. And though it with much danger (<HI>Brancicones</HI> valour grown terrible by &s;o many daily examples) yet honour, charity, and affection extingui&s;hed in him all manner of co~&s;ideration of danger. <HI>Teodogilus,</HI> ignorant of the true cau&s;e which had moved his friend to li&s;t him&s;elf among&s;t the number of competitors, concurred in common opinion with tho&s;e, that thought meer gentle|ne&s;&s;e had &s;purr'd him on to it. And with this thought going to him, &s;aid to him in this manner; <HI>Aderedo,</HI> If I did think thee to be as much enamoured, as I know thee to be noble and vertuous, I would not
<PB N="72" REF="40">adventure to come and impart unto thee the greate&s;t &s;ecret that is in|clo&s;ed within my brea&s;t, and de&s;ire that favour at thy hands, which I intend to reque&s;t. <HI>Aderedo</HI> was &s;tartled at this <HI>exordium,</HI> imagining the truth of its meaning, there being nought el&s;e that could make his friend &s;o much as que&s;tion his authority over him: &s;o that being half amazed, he an&s;wered him: I can not chu&s;e <HI>Theodogilus</HI> but com|plain extreamly of thee, that thou &s;houlde&s;t imagine thy &s;elf to have &s;o little power over me, or repute&s;t my gratitude &s;o &s;carce towards thee, that any re&s;erves can hinder me from &s;erving thee. I would I were in love indeed, that I might make thee know that friend&s;hip in me is a &s;olid &s;ub&s;tance, an eternall Elixir, in re&s;pect of love, which is but a flying accident, a wandring hunger, the appetite being once &s;aciated. Thou deale&s;t with me, with re&s;pects in thy bu&s;ine&s;&s;es, &amp; do&s;t me wrong. I will &s;hew thee the way, I am not in love: but if I were, &s;hould my being &s;uch, take away from me the de&s;ire of &s;erving thee? <HI>Theodogilus</HI> blu&s;hed at <HI>Aderedo's</HI> friendly reproofs, and having alledg|ed many long excu&s;es, he related unto him his love to <HI>Tamaris,</HI> how &s;he had forbidden him to regi&s;ter him&s;elf, and how he was now re|&s;olved to di&s;obey her.</P>
<P>That which I would de&s;ire of thee, &s;aid he, is, that thou woul|de&s;t yeeld me thy battel, for the not having Regi&s;tred my &s;elf, and my &s;taying to be la&s;t to do it, are things too prejudiciall to mine ho|nour: <HI>Aderedo</HI> was much grieved at this demand, it &s;eeming to be more &s;hame for him to re&s;igne the place, after the adver&s;aries &s;o ma|ny victories, then to the other that he had not at all regi&s;tred him &s;elf, or to have done it late; yet he an&s;wered him: <HI>Theodogilus,</HI> thy reque&s;t is great, not that I pretend to deny it thee (thou &s;halt have what thou de&s;ire&s;t) but I be&s;eech thee have a re&s;pect to mine honour, and if thou can&s;t, oblige me &s;o far as to let me runne my hazard; for if I re&s;igne the battel to thee, what will be &s;aid of me? If thou leave&s;t it to me, I will re&s;igne thy <HI>Tamaris</HI> to thee if I win her: and if I lo&s;e her, judge thou, whether it will not be better for me to dye, then live with infamy. <HI>Theodogilus,</HI> who before he had made his reque&s;t, had anticipatedly fore-&s;een all the rea&s;ons his friend could alledge for him&s;elfe, thus an&s;wered him. I know <HI>(Alderedo)</HI> my demand is un|ju&s;t: But &s;uch inju&s;tices, and upon occa&s;ion of love, u&s;e not to be imputed to one another, by friends of &s;uch a kind as we are. Thine honour indeed might runne a hazard therein, if our friend&s;hip were not a thing &s;o notorious to the world; or if the lu&s;tre and re&s;plen|dency of thy known valour were not &s;ufficient to di&s;per&s;e the clouds of any &s;ini&s;ter opinions. And if it were not &s;o, would&s;t thou &s;uffer me after being fallen into &s;o great an over-&s;ight, through an amorous obedience, to remain immerged therein with &s;o much infamy? Let us compare your &s;hame with mine if you plea&s;e, and having exami|ned them both, let the greate&s;t prevaile: if thine honour runnes more danger then mine, I will revoke my reque&s;t. Thou wilt &s;ay, I &s;peak too confidently; and that in matters of honour, Children have not yeelded to Parents, much le&s;&s;e therefore &s;hould one friend yeeld to
<PB N="37" REF="40">another. This is a Propo&s;ition which admits no an&s;wer; and if it did, it is not a thing by me to be di&s;puted, and &s;uch a doubt as is onely by thee to be re&s;olved. Thou wilt not peradventure, through thy gentlene&s;&s;e, make rigorous u&s;e of it, e&s;pecially where love and friend|&s;hip are the Di&s;putants. Thou offere&s;t me <HI>Tamaris,</HI> gained by thy force, I will receive her willingly; receiving alwayes thy favours with the &s;ame mind as I de&s;ire to &s;erve thee. I will not envy thy magnanimity; I will love my &s;elf &s;o much the more, being made the object of thy vertues, thine honours: I know a friend ought to make no difference between conferring and receiving of benefits, unle&s;&s;e &s;he more e&s;teem the fame of his own liberality, then that of his friends inclination. Well, grant I be condemned to accept indifferently of all thy favours, and that I be content therewith: will this &s;erve our turns? Will not others &s;ay, that I pretending to have <HI>Tamaris,</HI> have obtained her with the price of thy blood, and thy life? And if no man &s;hould e&s;teem me a coward (which is impo&s;&s;ible) there would not how&s;oever want &s;ome to &s;ay, that I had with too di&s;courteous termes, accepted of thy courte&s;ies: add to this, that if I did ever chance to do thee any &s;mall courte&s;ie, the merit of it would be cor|rupted, if I &s;hould pretend to take for it &s;uch illegal u&s;e, as the precious u&s;e of thy &s;elf. This and no other, will be the opinion of the Court.</P>
<P>As for the people, thou knowe&s;t, it being ignorant, does not judge by what &s;eems to be, but by what it &s;ees, or rather by that little which it mi&s;takes. But in my ca&s;e, it will free from all manner of ig|norance and deceipt, &s;ee the ju&s;t cau&s;es of my blame. As for the King, what will he judge of my action? That having pretended to his Daughter, I have withdrawn my &s;elf from danger by thy means: He will peradventure by very good rea&s;on, give her to thee, and not me; and if no other harm &s;hould en&s;ue thereon, I &s;hould not judge it worthy the reflecting upon. Though it could not happen wor&s;e, &s;he being not beloved by thee, as &s;he is by me: and &s;uppo&s;e I be deceived in all the&s;e things, yet can I not be deceived touching my &s;elfe. I &s;hall feel punctures, by which transfixed, I &s;hall not be able to live after &s;uch a chance, and will not fir&s;t, the fir&s;t of them be the &s;eeing my &s;elf &s;acrificed to thee? to hear the prai&s;es which will be de&s;erved|ly attributed to thy perfect amity, and the blames wherewith my im|perfect friend&s;hip will be reproached? Wilt thou then purcha&s;e fame with co&s;t of mine infamy: and if thou &s;houlde&s;t chance to be killed (as it hath mi&s;erably befallen many gallant Knights) &s;hall I live without thee, without honour, both being extingui&s;hed upon mine occa&s;ion, and through my &s;hallowne&s;&s;e? Thou mu&s;t not will this <HI>Aderedo,</HI> unle&s;&s;e thou wilt have it &s;aid, that thy punctuality in thine own reputation, hath made thee blind in judging of mine. If the bu&s;ine&s;&s;e between us &s;tood upon equal termes, I would yeeld to thee: and do already (&s;o help me heaven) yeeld to thee; if with the battel thou be re&s;olved to take <HI>Tamaris.</HI> I never did, nor could do a thing more conformable to my mind then this, namely to renounce
<PB N="74" REF="41">to &s;o dear a friend, a Prince&s;&s;e &s;o worthy, and be&s;towing on her whom I &s;o much reverence, the mo&s;t vertuous Knight on earth. <HI>Aderedo</HI> attentively gave eare unto his friends &s;peech, and re&s;olved to &s;atisfie him, would (through exce&s;&s;e of vertue) have the &s;ervice bear a re|&s;emblance of ju&s;tice, and not of courte&s;ie. Wherefore he &s;aid unto him; <HI>Theodogilus,</HI> thou ha&s;t put thy &s;elf upon an enquiry with me, wherein (as in every thing el&s;e) I have nothing but imparity and di&s;advantage with thee: thou &s;trive&s;t in vain to make thy &s;elf equal to me, while&s;t thy courte&s;ies and mine obligements, though correla|tives, are (being of a diver&s;e nature) manife&s;tly di&s;equal. There is no parity between you and I, but only in that you are ma&s;ter of my will, as I am of yours; &s;eeing that in other things thou ha&s;t been a|ble to make me partaker of thy wealth, being by thee extreamly be|loved; and I (though I could) would by no means make thee par|taker of my poverty, unle&s;&s;e I did extreamly hate thee. Thou ha&s;t not done any action towards me, but hath been crowned with hu|manity, nor I any to thee-wards, but hath been marked with an ob|ligement, &s;o that if my being bound unto thee, did not comfort me, as an effect of thy love, I &s;hould die di&s;content: if mine ambition of equalling my &s;elf to thee in reciprocal &s;ervice, were greater then the inclination I have &s;pontaneou&s;ly to &s;erve thee: Con&s;ider I pray thee, if in di&s;plea&s;ing me (as thou imagine&s;t to do at this pre&s;ent) thou ha&s;t power to oblige me, how much thou ha&s;t in times pa&s;t ob|liged me by plea&s;ing me. I pretend not to an&s;wer thy courteous rea|&s;ons, becau&s;e if I &s;hould go about to conquer thee by them, the un|der&s;tanding and tongue would need to frame new rea&s;ons, and new courte&s;ies, thou having rendred thy &s;elf proprietary, and ab&s;olute commander of the old ones: Wherefore either accept of that which I can give thee, or that which I can not (if thou wilt have it) aske it of thy &s;elf: I have nothing in my &s;elf that is not thine, and in thy hands. T<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters">u require&s;t the battel again&s;t <HI>Brancicone,</HI> and at the &s;ame in&s;tant confe&s;&s;e&s;t thy reque&s;t to be unju&s;t. Could&s;t thou find a more ingenious invention, to illu&s;trate me, and make me the more worthy of thy friend&s;hip? Ingenuity <HI>Theodogilus,</HI> and much le&s;&s;e my con&s;ci|ence will not permit me to take upon me other mens glories, e&s;pecial|ly thine. Thou can&s;t not de&s;ire at my hands, any thing which is not due to thee. I ought to yeeld the battel to thee, not as a thing due by vertue of friend&s;hip only: but by ju&s;tice, and in vertue of an amo|rous affection. Thou art he that love&s;t <HI>Tamaris,</HI> thou beloved of <HI>Ta|maris,</HI> not I: It fits not me for a vain jealou&s;ie of honour, to &s;uffer the &s;olid of thy reputation to ruine, and ruined to lie buried in the mire of infamy, &s;eeing the greate&s;t &s;hame between us would be thine. I grant, Children have not yeelded to Parents in this ca&s;e, when there hath been a que&s;tion of this abominable Chimera, nor friends to friends, (would there were no examples of the like, it would be the better) but that it is more laudable to be ambitious then ju&s;t, and that true honour, which is the only object of a gentle &s;pirit, hath been gained thereby, no man can ever &s;hew me. But why may not I, <HI>Theo|dogilus,</HI>
<PB N="75" REF="41">be ambitious, and ju&s;t both at one time? Who hinders me, if my fir&s;t in&s;tinct proceed from the vanity of honour, but that by yielding to thee (which is an effect of ju&s;tice) I do not inwardly di&s;|ge&s;t, the applau&s;e of the laudable act, as nutriment of the vain food of my ambitions. This Ju&s;tice <HI>(Theodogilus)</HI> the center of all vertues hath power at once to give &s;atisfaction both to vertue and vice: and though it doth not deceive, yet it is an innocent in&s;trument, whereby others may be deceived. Take the thing therefore as thou plea&s;e; I ought and mu&s;t &s;erve thee. If I do it for ju&s;tice, I &s;hall pay what is my due, if through vanity I &s;hall &s;atisfie mine ambition, though (to con|fe&s;&s;e the truth to thee) it will be hardly &s;atisfied in an occa&s;ion, wherein I re&s;ign nothing to thee but danger, blood, and death.</P>
<P>Wherefore neither will there be any thing for thee to be beholding to me for, nor for me to glory in, if my vain glory fall not into an ex|pre&s;&s;e madne&s;&s;e. I an&s;wer thee nothing concerning <HI>Tamaris.</HI> She is thine, pray Heavens thou mai&s;t po&s;&s;e&s;&s;e her, with all the happine&s;&s;e I can wi&s;h thee. And if being better in&s;pired, thou would&s;t be con|tent to give me back that which I have yeelded to thee, letting me perform the batttell, (being a&s;&s;ured thereby to have <HI>Tamaris,</HI> or to adventure nothing but a poor unu&s;efull friend) I &s;hall take it for a great favour, as the only means to free me from two mo&s;t grievous fears, of the danger of thy per&s;on, and mine honour. If not, let thy will be done; prote&s;ting unto thee, that if my yielding to thee, &s;hould be the occa&s;ion of thy death, I will not &s;urvive, re&s;olved to trie whether the &s;oul retain its former habits, and whether with it, they al&s;o remain immortall. <HI>Theodoligus</HI> had yielded to <HI>Aderedos</HI> affecti|onate in&s;tances, but that he thought that adventuring him to &s;uch a battell, without the recompence which it brought with it, would have redounded too much to his infamy: wherfore appea&s;ing him with good rea&s;on, they went both together to the regi&s;ter, where one being &s;tricken out, the other was in&s;erted in his place, there being no law to the contrary. The rumor thereof being &s;pread abroad <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 word"> Court, e|very one pre&s;ently penetrated into the true cau&s;e of it, to the great commendation of them both, though <HI>Aderedo</HI> could not be comforted: <HI>Brancicones</HI> forces making him much to fear his friends life. <HI>Tamaris,</HI> when &s;he heard of it, was much grieved &amp; troubled at it, &amp; not know|ing how to &s;peak with him, &s;he wrote to him after this manner.</P>
<LETTER LANG="eng">
<HEAD>To <HI>Theodogilus</HI> my di&s;obedient friend.</HEAD>
<P>I Have been doubtfull whether I &s;hould let you run the Car|riere of your re&s;olutions with &s;ilence. But the doubt I had, le&s;t being already deceived, you &s;hould run into a &s;econd error, hath forced me to deal thus courteou&s;ly with you, though you no way de&s;erved it. You have profe&s;&s;ed hitherto to be my &s;ervant, and when I did you the favour to accept you for &s;uch, it was to oblige you &s;o much the more. I &s;uppo&s;ed as Mi&s;tris, I had &s;uch &s;o|veraignty
<PB N="76" REF="42">over you, as the direct Lord hath over his &s;ubjects; and by vertue thereof I forbad you the battell again&s;t <HI>Brancicone.</HI> You contrariwi&s;e in contempt of my prohibition have cau&s;ed your &s;elf to be regi&s;tred; and to make your &s;elf the more guilty in your rebelli|on, pretend thereby (depriving me of my Titles of Lady and Sove|raign) to make me &s;ubject to you, and your wife. I do not deny, but that mine intention was &s;o likewi&s;e (&s;uch is the mi&s;ery of our &s;ex which brings us to this extream degree of mi&s;ery) but the putting this in execution belonged to me, nor were you to deal with me as evill Children do with their Parents, violently taking out of their hands that which with time and patience would properly belong to them: I am not bound to give you an account of my commands or forbidding, as you are to obey them; Much le&s;&s;e to give you the rea|&s;ons why I did &s;o. Onely I will give you thus much inkling. That if <HI>Brancicone</HI> had overcome all; or that he being overcome, there had but one competitor remained. I would have commanded you the battell: &s;eeing my Fortune is &s;uch, that I mu&s;t be made the Prize of a Jou&s;t, like venall things of <HI>Xone,</HI> or at lea&s;t of a very &s;mall valew; yet I would not have you believe that this my de&s;ign was in re&s;pect of your per&s;on (for if you &s;hould think &s;o, it would be one of your errors) but becau&s;e I would not &s;o ra&s;hly adventure what was mine: and be|cau&s;e I &s;uppo&s;ed I knew better how to pre&s;erve mine own things then they them&s;elves. You peradventure per&s;waded your &s;elf that the love I bore you might bear you out in your di&s;obedience, but you are deceived; Women (for I mu&s;t tell you, &s;eeing you are &s;o ignorant) do not love, to love. The affection of vanity &s;urpa&s;&s;es all other affe|ctions in them They love becau&s;e they would be &s;erved, neither doe they care for others loves but onely to the end to be obeyed. Their &s;cope is not to have the po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion of per&s;ons (as you fal&s;ly conceive) but of wills. And to &s;ubdue them, they aba&s;e them&s;elves &s;o far as to &s;eem to love. Now you &s;ub&s;tracting and taking away your &s;elf from me in your will (by undertaking the battel again&s;t my expre&s;&s;e com|mand) to give your &s;elf per&s;onally to me (by gaining me) do nullifie mine office, though you perform your own. Men making more ac|compt of a womans per&s;on, then of a thou&s;and maidens wills. I intend not to di&s;&s;wade you from the battell, as another peradventure would do. I have no &s;tomach to a &s;econd di&s;obedience, being unaccu&s;tom|ed to &s;uch affronts. Be&s;ides, though I love what I will, yet can I not will that which I cannot love, which is your di&s;honour. Do then what you have deliberated to do, a&s;&s;ured that by di&s;plea&s;ing me you cannot plea&s;e me: and that this di&s;obedience in which you have thought to inclo&s;e the whole my&s;tery of the love which you bear me, will be as odious to me as your victory plea&s;ing, to the end that I may afterwards at mine own lei&s;ure, long hate you, and by this means fully revenge my &s;elf, the injurie I recive from you.</P>
</LETTER>
<P><HI>Tamaris</HI> amorous arrogancie did not much trouble <HI>Theodogilus;</HI> being before ac|cu&s;tomed to &s;uch fa&s;hions; wherefore taking pen in hand he an&s;wered her thus.</P>
<LETTER LANG="eng">
<PB N="77" REF="42">
<P> Madam, the profe&s;&s;ion I have hitherto made of &s;erving you, is the &s;ame I &s;hall ever continue, neither can nature be changed by time, nor my obedience by addition of title. True, love is not &s;ubject to alterations. I do not deny but I have di&s;obeyed you; but in my ca&s;e I could not in duty of true &s;ubjection obey you Soveraigns, though images of Divinity, are not impeccable. And tho&s;e which are good, though ab&s;olute &s;overaignty free them from the lawes; yet they frame a Law to them&s;elves out of equity. I ought not (Madam) whil&s;t all <HI>Norway</HI> &s;tirred to gain you, have &s;ate &s;till, like an idle &s;pe|ctator by vertue of your unju&s;t prohibitions. Seeing I was by you, the King your Father, and by the whole world, through their kind and benigne opinion, judged among all the re&s;t worthie&s;t of po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ing you. I had de&s;erved to have fallen from this generall good opinion, yea, and from your favour it &s;elf, if I had not di&s;obeyed you with &s;o ju&s;t a di&s;obedience. I have erred, but by &s;uch an error, as I can neither repent me of, nor ask pardon for. As for mine ignorance, &s;he is my faithfull and learned &s;chool-mi&s;tri&s;s, which continually cries in mine ears, that I &s;hould not pre&s;ume to think my &s;elf beloved by pa&s;&s;ion, but through compa&s;&s;ion, I pretend not beyond this, and &s;o much I do pretend: as for the re&s;t, let Heaven di&s;po&s;e of me as it plea|&s;eth, if I die, my reputation nor love &s;hall not die with me. I &s;hall leave the one un&s;tained behind me, and the other I &s;hall carry with me, being made into one &s;ub&s;tance with my &s;oul, without any &s;in: if I live I &s;hall take plea&s;ure, if not, in your hatred and revenge, how&s;oe|ver in your will. But as where the Sun is, there can be nothing but light, &s;o where&s;oever you are, there can be nothing but joy and con|tent. I &s;hall endeavour to overcome, not to win fame, but to attain you, who are the tran&s;cendencie of all honour. And if you be di&s;con|tented at my conque&s;t, you may &s;atisfie your &s;elf, for I being alive, may be the object on which you may to &s;atiety exerci&s;e all your hatreds and revenges.</P>
</LETTER>
<P><HI>Brancicone</HI> in the mean time overcame all tho&s;e Knights which ap|peared before <HI>Theodogilus:</HI> who his appointed day being come, appea|red with <HI>Aderedo,</HI> who &s;erved him for &s;econd, and with twelve pages mounted upon <HI>Dacian</HI> &s;teeds, and &s;ix trumpets, and &s;ix foot|men all clothed with two colours unu&s;uall to him, &s;kie colour, and violet, to pretend that diffidency which he had not of his Mi&s;tre&s;&s;e. Three noble Knights carried his &s;hield, his lance, and his helmet, cho|&s;en among&s;t the chief of two hundred other Knights which ac|companied him. Being arrived into the li&s;ts, he laid down his hat, adorned with feathers, and inriched with Diamonds: and having cau&s;ed his Helmet to be laced on, taking his lance and &s;hield he en|tred in, and having &s;aluted the King and Prince&s;&s;e who &s;tood upon the Balcones, he &s;tood &s;till at his own end, having fir&s;t paced over the whole field, all other (&s;ave onely the &s;econds) quitting the ground. <HI>Brancicone</HI> came out of his Tent, mounted upon a great Freezland hor&s;e. Having in the precedent daies worn in his &s;hield for <HI>impre&s;a</HI> a Palm-tree and a Bear climbing it with this motto. <HI>From
<PB N="78" REF="43">the Palm to the fruit.</HI> By the Bear meaning him&s;elf, who climbing the tree, which were his victories, hee a&s;pired to the gathering of the fruit, which was <HI>Tamaris.</HI> But in the&s;e latter daies, his &s;hield being broken by &s;everall long battells, he took occa&s;ion to make him a new one, with the &s;ame picture, altering it onely in the Bear, making it in &s;tead of climbing, arrived up to the top of the tree, taking hold with its paw of the upper branch thereof, which had given <HI>Theodogilus</HI> cau&s;e to have the &s;ame impre&s;a, painted in his &s;hield, adding hereunto an arm comming out of a cloud, and cutting the branch off from the tree with an axe, &s;ending both to the ground with this Motto, <HI>Not for thee, thou &s;illie Bea&s;t. Brancicone,</HI> who &s;tood in the entrance of his Tent, looking upon his Enemy. Knew by his own impre&s;a, (though he was ru&s;tick and illiterate) the &s;ignification of the other, threatned to puni&s;h him for it, with mo&s;t terrible words, which tho&s;e that &s;tood furthe&s;t off might ea&s;ily hear, and <HI>Theodogilus</HI> him&s;elf. He would have &s;aid more, if not knowing how to read, he could but have made &s;hift to &s;pell the injurious words of the Motto; But he had never a friend that would tell him, which was a great abatement of his wrath. <HI>Theodogilus,</HI> who on the other &s;ide ob&s;erved all his ge&s;tures, took great pa&s;time at it, thinking this new &s;urviving pa&s;&s;ion, would prove for his advantage, neither was he peradventure deceived therin. He had under him an Ermine hor&s;e all &s;potted over with black &s;pots, ju&s;t as if a &s;prunge dipped in inke would have &s;potted him, if it had been thrown again&s;t him: his mane reaching to the ground gathered up together in two golden rings, which dividing them into two locks, they joined together again on the hor&s;es head. The bre&s;tplate gar|ni&s;hed with bells, yielding &s;uch a &s;ound, that if one had but ears, hee might thereby have judged of the variety of the bea&s;ts motions. He him&s;elf be&s;ides a rich Coat embroidered with curious choice work wore in his cre&s;t a Dove couching in a tuft of nettles, alluding by the Dove the good augury of the enterpri&s;e, the hope of enjoyments, and the purity of his love. By the nettle his affections, hot and &s;tinging as a Nettle. The Trumpets having &s;ounded, they came to meet: <HI>Branci|cone</HI> ridde in a fooli&s;h extravagant manner, and without knowledge of any advantage, &s;o that if in the precedent battells he had perfor|med any one, on hor&s;eback, he would have had but a bad i&s;&s;ue of it. Be&s;ides, he handled his arms &s;o untowardly, making u&s;e onely of his &s;trength, in which he &s;o mightily excelled, that Knights being once put be&s;ide their defence, and &s;haken by the violence of the blowes, remained either killed or yeelded. <HI>Theodogilus</HI> had ob&s;erved all this, and was certain of the victory, if he could but &s;ecure him&s;elf from the enemies fir&s;t fury. But Fortune in this, as in other occa&s;ions al&s;o, would have prudencie give place to it, for meeting with their lances, <HI>Theo|dogilus</HI> received the encounter in the Center of his &s;hield, whereby he would have been forced to have quitted the &s;addle, if the &s;trong lance brui&s;ed (I believe) by &s;ome former encounter, had not flowen in peeces. Whereas he contrariwi&s;e, aiming his encounter between the &s;hield and the &s;addle bow, happened to enter between the one and
<PB N="79" REF="43">the other, and finding the Brigandine impenetrable, it glided along the flank where it &s;tayed, &s;topped by the hinder part of the Armour, which in &s;tead of joyning clo&s;e with the Cor&s;let, lay over it in &s;uch manner, that the point finding where to re&s;t, the well tempered ar|mour was not able to re&s;i&s;t the force of the &s;teed and arme, &s;o that the Lance entred &s;o farre, as the place where it broke. <HI>Bran|cicone</HI> like a Rock in the midde&s;t of the Sea, kept the &s;ad|dle unmoved at this fir&s;t encounter, not without amazement of the &s;pectators, for being run quite thorow, he gave no &s;igne at all of any feeling: <HI>Theodogilus</HI> throwing away the peece of Lance which remain|ed in his hand, and nimbly wheeling his Hor&s;e about, e&s;pied his ene|mie carred away to hit again&s;t the furthermo&s;t bars of the Tilt-yard, whether the defect was in the bit, or becau&s;e the encounter had ta|ken away his &s;ence, the Hor&s;e hitting again&s;t the oppo&s;ite barres, was beaten back upon his Crupper, falling with the Rider under him upon his wounded &s;ide; the wound was not very deep, but it hit his Middriffe, and with the fall, the peece of the Launce breaking in his body, went to his heart and killed him. <HI>Theodogilus</HI> &s;tood over him, ob&s;erving whether he would ri&s;e or not, but finding he did not move, he alighted, and lifting up his Vizor, and finding him dead, he advi&s;ed the judges of it: who pronouncing him conqueror, intimated to him, that he was bound to maintain the field again&s;t others for one whole year together. <HI>Theodogilus</HI> knowing it very well, cau&s;ing dead <HI>Brancicone</HI> to be taken way with his pavilion, cau&s;ed his to be &s;et up in the place of it. But there was none came afterwards to demand battaile of him, though there were above one hundred already regi|&s;tred. The King much joyed to &s;ee him&s;elf free'd of <HI>Brancicone,</HI> and &s;ent two Knights to <HI>Theodogilus</HI> to thank him for it, who had gone to ki&s;&s;e his hands therefore, had he not been obliged to remaine in the field for a whole yeare. It were &s;uperfluous to &s;peak of <HI>Tamaris</HI> joy, who now was never from her window, where &s;he was never &s;een be|fore, while <HI>Brancicon's</HI> Tent &s;tood there. The Knights to whom be|longed the next battels after <HI>Theodogilus,</HI> and now according to the order of the Law, were to fight with him, generou&s;ly yeelded and laid down their pretences, unanimou&s;ly confe&s;&s;ing, <HI>Tamaris</HI> could not have a more worthy Husband then him: &s;o that they all came to put them&s;elves out of the Regi&s;ter, neither did any one come in anew, to demand battel of him: Whether it were joy, age, or the fatall hour that was come, no &s;ooner were the Spou&s;es come together, but <HI>Rollo</HI> dyed, having recommeded his Son-in-law to the States favour, who both as Husband to <HI>Tamaris,</HI> and of him&s;elf worthy the place, was by the general applau&s;e elected King of <HI>Norway.</HI> There was never King of that Country, more happy while he had a wife and friend, but happening to lo&s;e them &s;o unfortunately, as you &s;hall hear, none exceeded him in mi&s;ery. <HI>Aderedo</HI> having the whole burthen of Go|vernment lying upon him, with his honour, altered his cu&s;tomes; not as other Favourites do: for he altered only tho&s;e which were ei|ther di&s;honourable or hurtful to him, that native liberality, which
<PB N="80" REF="44">had before been by him employed in game&s;omene&s;&s;e and love. He abandoned all, forgat all: Wi&s;e not &s;o much in knowing that with wealth vices are increa&s;ed, as that it is un&s;eemly for a Knight to glut him&s;elf therewith, e&s;pecially at a friends charges. He &s;eemed no more to be the &s;ame <HI>Aderedo</HI> he was: yet was he the &s;ame, and more ex|celling in all manner of gentlene&s;&s;e. There is no vice that hath a more open gap &s;et before it then prodigality: It hath no walls nor bounds, and if any, they are enchanted. It breaks Doors, Bars, and Rails: yet this &s;ublime and lofty &s;pirit, being by love to his friend become a good Husband, forceth his natural inclination, and without offering any violence to him&s;elfe, &s;weetly &s;ettles in the Center, between tho&s;e two &s;o far di&s;tant extreams, &s;ordidne&s;&s;e and profu&s;ene&s;&s;e. Nature &s;eemed to have produced the&s;e two &s;ymbolizing &s;pirits, becau&s;e they &s;hould contend reciprocally in benefits and love. The King enjoyed nor took delight in nothing, unle&s;&s;e it were participable to <HI>Aderedo;</HI> he deve&s;ted him&s;elf of his own authority, to inve&s;t him with it: He had nothing peculiar to him&s;elf but <HI>Tamaris</HI> only: He reli&s;hed not the Dominion of the Kingdom, unle&s;&s;e the other commanded it. He would have made him participant of the Crown, if it had been ca|pable of two heads, and was grieved becau&s;e it was not. <HI>Aderedo's</HI> will was what <HI>Theodogilus</HI> would, and what was convenient for <HI>Theodogi|lus, Aderedo</HI> would que&s;tionle&s;&s;e put in execution. The one happy that being born to decayed fortunes, he was made participant of his friends favour and fortunes: the other mo&s;t happy in that fortune had granted him a &s;econd &s;elf, who ea&s;ing him of care, &s;erved him for a friend, a Trea&s;urer, a Father. In this wi&s;e tran&s;cendently for|tunate, there never having been known a more perfect woman. Beautiful without vanity, hone&s;t without haughtine&s;&s;e, good with|out-folly, a &s;peaker void of petulancy, and humble without ba&s;e|ne&s;&s;e: &s;o that the pre&s;ence and frequentation of that plea&s;ant and comfortable behaviour, was more comfortable then lying amid&s;t Ro&s;es, being nouri&s;hed with Nectar and Ambro&s;ia, ravi&s;hed with an exta&s;is, cau&s;ed by the melody of the cele&s;tial Sphears. A woman in ex|ternal proportion &s;o beautiful, that to her heaven had in a manner given the priviledge of mitigating manly &s;everities, &s;o that &s;he was no longer a delight only, but an earthly paradice, where the internal beauty which &s;o much plea&s;eth the under&s;tanding, over tops and ex|cells the external which &s;o much plea&s;es the &s;en&s;es. Wherefore <HI>Ta|maris</HI> was a Paradice to <HI>Theodogilus,</HI> and the harmony of his vertues was the reall, not allegorical harmony of the above illuminating Sphears. Happy he, if after the ta&s;ting of &s;o much happine&s;&s;e, had clo&s;ed his eyes in perpetuall &s;leep, before he had been plunged into the unhappine&s;&s;e which he afterwards fell into. Of three Children which &s;he bore him, there &s;urvived none but one only Daughter, in beauty, nature, and cu&s;tomes &s;o like her, that there was wrong done to her, in not calling her by the &s;ame name: that of <HI>Igene</HI> making her through its variety, <HI>an individuum,</HI> a part, which it &s;hould not have done: For <HI>Igene</HI> and <HI>Tamaris, Tamaris</HI> and <HI>Igene,</HI> had neither in bo|die
<PB N="81" REF="44">or mind any thing different, but onely the difference of name and time; which <HI>Igene</HI> being grown up, could hardly be perceived, there being onely eighteen years difference between the mother and the daughters age. <HI>Feredo</HI> was &s;tartled at the name of <HI>Igene,</HI> in &s;uch manner, as the Kinght perceiving it, thought he had been &s;urpri&s;ed with &s;ome &s;uddain evill, &s;o that he &s;tayed his di&s;cour&s;e ready to a&s;&s;i&s;t him in any &s;uch accident, and the like did <HI>Cataulo.</HI> But <HI>Feredo</HI> perceiving it, de&s;ired him to proceed in his curious Hi&s;tory. The Knight; therefore continuing his di&s;cour&s;e, &s;aid. The fir&s;t adver&s;e for|tune <HI>Theodogilus</HI> had after all his pro&s;perity, was the lo&s;&s;e of <HI>Aderedo.</HI> The Northern pa&s;&s;age into the Ea&s;tern Seas had been attempted many years before by the &s;ame <HI>Aderedo,</HI> who be&s;ides other &s;tudies, delighted much in that of Geography. He believed the Hyperboreans and Scythians which lay by the Sea &s;ide (according as they are &s;et down in the map) not to be contiguous to the Pole, be&s;ides the an|tient tradition of an Ea&s;tern &s;hip driven by tempe&s;t into tho&s;e coa&s;ts. And though the fro&s;ts there were extream, yet he believed that meet|ing with a milder &s;ea&s;on he might ea&s;ily have pa&s;&s;ed through, com|paring the advantages of his vicinity, with the di&s;advantages of the Southern pa&s;&s;ages which were far remoter. This enterpri&s;e had been often undertaken, yet never performed. But he who&s;e intention was nothing more then to make <HI>Theodogilus</HI> the mo&s;t famous King in the world, and that he &s;hould attain to this glory by his means, di&s;|po&s;ed him&s;elf to attempt this in per&s;on, contrary to the Kings, Queens, and the whole Kingdoms will. He furni&s;hed &s;ix ve&s;&s;ells with victualls and armes, not for months, but years, providing them with timber and all other nece&s;&s;ary provi&s;ion, to the end, that if the wea|ther and &s;ea&s;on of the year did oppo&s;e him, he might furni&s;h him&s;elf with lodgings on land, to continue his journey afterwards at the Suns return. He forgot not any thing, onely the good coun&s;ell to &s;tay be|hind him&s;elf, who was the be&s;t and mo&s;t valuable provi&s;ion. With|in two months after his departure he &s;ent back a &s;mall ve&s;&s;ell from the &s;eventeenth degree, with advice that he had &s;ailed to the eighty third, hoping to pa&s;&s;e forward, but that being hindred by impene|trable fro&s;ts he was returned: having certain relation that he might pa&s;&s;e within five or &s;ix daies at a certain determinate time with the people of that Country, by a Mediterranean Sean not known by the Mariners, called <HI>Morimu&s;a,</HI> that is to &s;ay, a dead Sea. And that he was then at the mouth of that Sea, re&s;olved not ro return till either he had atchieved his enterpri&s;e, or found an impo&s;&s;ibility in it, that he might not think any more on it. The&s;e were the la&s;t newes came from him. So that four years being pa&s;t, and he not returning, he was certainly accounted to be dead. I intend not now to de&s;cribe the la|mentations which were made for him. Yet was not this the period of adver&s;e Fortune: the Queen with child at this time, died &s;ix months after in childbed. Whether this touched <HI>Theodogilus</HI> to the quick, no tongue can expre&s;&s;e. She was enbalmed, he kept her &s;everall daies in his Chamber, and would not &s;uffer her to be buried, unle&s;s he
<PB N="80" REF="45">might him&s;elf be buried with her. He was at la&s;t per&s;waded by the importunity of tho&s;e who remon&s;trated unto him, that &s;uch fits of grief were unworthy of Kings, who though but men and &s;ub|ject to pa&s;&s;ions as well as others, yet differing from the common &s;ort, were much more to &s;hew them&s;elvs different in &s;uch occa&s;ions. Yet for all the&s;e admonitions and comforts he attempted his own death of|tentimes, and had &s;lain him&s;elf if he had not been hindred. He look|ed up and down continually, thinking (I know not through what conceipts) to find his wife again. Which fre&s;h grief, renewing the old one for his friend, he cea&s;ed not calling upon him &amp; her by name con|tinually, intreating them to take him out of the world, and receive him into their beloved company. His life to be to him too cruell a bur|then, and in&s;ufferable torment without them. And being unable to endure &s;o long grief, weakned by continuall fa&s;ting and watching, he took his bed hoping for approaching death: which peradventure the Gods would have granted him, had it not been contrary to their decree. They will have us come to our end when they plea&s;e, making us in&s;truments of their providence, and examples of their wrath; &s;eeing that through our own defects, we fall into the efficacie of error. The Prince&s;&s;e <HI>Igene,</HI> who having lo&s;t her mother, had till then been (all drowned in tears) attentive to her own griefs, &s;eeing her Father reduced to extreams, neither feeding nor &s;leeping, ran into his Cham|ber, and often ki&s;&s;ing his hands, &s;aid unto him. If I had no intere&s;t in your tears, or that I had le&s;&s;e rea&s;on to be pa&s;&s;ionate then you have, I would make bold (though but a &s;imple maiden) to mini&s;ter com|fort unto you. But becau&s;e your wounds cannot be dre&s;&s;ed, but by tearing open of mine own, I &s;urcea&s;e, be&s;eeching you of your &s;elf to do that, which my words and your &s;ence are not able to per&s;wade you. And though you do it for nothing el&s;e, yet do it to the end that the love which you did &s;o de&s;ervedly bear to the Queen my mother, may not unde&s;ervedly prejudice that love which I by ju&s;t rea&s;on ought to challenge, as daughter to you both. Behold, Sir, you have brought your &s;elf to &s;uch a pa&s;&s;e, that you are like fruitle&s;&s;ely to follow her, if you do not take compa&s;&s;ion on your &s;elf. I grant your love is in|divi&s;ible from her even in death it &s;elf. But why &s;eeing that when you are dead, you cannot there enjoy her but by meer contemplation, cannot you be content to enjoy her here whil&s;t you are alive, in the &s;ame manner? a&s;&s;uring your &s;elf, that endeavouring to die in de&s;pight of Heaven as you &s;eek to do, it will &s;urely be to her (who is already received into the fellow&s;hip of the ble&s;&s;ed) a double grief, that you &s;hould be denied a place nigh unto her: and having for&s;aken me your common pledge, I &s;hould remain alone, an Orphan child with|out any heritage or a&s;&s;i&s;tance. The Prince&s;&s;e concluded the&s;e words with &s;o many tears, that &s;he bathed her Fathers hands therewith; whereupon he after long moan brake forth &s;ighing into &s;uch like ex|pre&s;&s;ions. If my griefs (daughter) were in &s;uch e&s;tate as to be relie|ved by rea&s;ons, I &s;hould quickly find my &s;elf disburthened; nature not wanting arguments to ea&s;e me of them. But they being of &s;uch a
<PB N="81" REF="45">diver&s;e con&s;titution make my comforts and con&s;olations, which be of a contumacious nature, not to depend upon others &s;ayings, but mine own &s;ences, which &s;ee too much to be lulled a&s;leep at the &s;ound of per&s;wa&s;ions. Mine ears are &s;topped with &s;uch tenacious wax of bit|terne&s;&s;e, that no Siren, have &s;he never &s;o melodious charming &s;ounds, can cau&s;e me to &s;lumber; your intere&s;ts (I confe&s;&s;e) ought to be, and are of great force with me: but my grief and I, are two di&s;tinct things. You treat with me, as with a man who were yet &s;ub&s;i&s;ting, and doe not perceive that I cea&s;ed to be, when my fair <HI>Tamaris</HI> cea&s;ed to live. If I have not then the actions of a living man, much le&s;&s;e can I have the free will of one that can re&s;olve. And I would di&s;&s;wade you by all means from undertaking to per&s;wade a thing which is &s;o deaf as my dolour: which being void of any other &s;ence, but of it &s;elf, wil not hear|ken to any thing but it &s;elf. Which if you &s;hould do, it would be do|ing the contrary to what you pretend, and you &s;hould be cruell which you are not. Be content therefore (daughter) a mind full of torments is incapable of con&s;olation, and lenitives are contrary to gangred &s;oars, Inci&s;ions and Iron, and nothing el&s;e daughter is able to cure me. If therefore you love me as you ought to do, why by de|nying me &s;o &s;alutiferous a remedy, do you keep me in pain, and un|der colour of piety, con&s;pire with others to the keeping of me in tor|ments? The Prince&s;&s;e replyed unto him, abhorring her Fathers de|&s;pair; But whil&s;t (pious) &s;he &s;eeeks to di&s;&s;wade him from one evill, &s;he (innocently) brings him into another altogether abhominable, and unthought of. For ob&s;erving that in her which he often before had done without any &s;candall, namely her conformity, and like|ne&s;&s;e with <HI>Tamaris</HI> (the difference betwixt the one and the other, be|ing no greater then the difference between one drop of water and a|nother) he was at fir&s;t &s;trook dumb. And the &s;ight of her affording him &s;ome comfort, that comfort bred delight, that delight de&s;ire, with &s;o maligne a graduation, that forgetting the integrity wherein he had lived to that hour, he fell de&s;perately in love with her. But becau&s;e the mind cannot ca&s;t off its habituall vertues all at once as the &s;nake doth its skin, &s;hame at that time &s;uppre&s;&s;ed his affections, &amp; &s;he went away, thinking &s;he had left him in better di&s;po&s;ition. And imagining &s;he did him good by often vi&s;iting him, as outward appea|rance deceivingly per&s;waded her. But there pa&s;&s;ed not many daies, but forgetting his grief, he dared to di&s;cover him&s;elf unto her, and having &s;ent for her into his Chamber, &s;aid unto her, <HI>Tamaris</HI> (for &s;o I will have your name to be hereafter) you will wonder peradven|at what I &s;hall &s;ay unto you. You perceive my change, and believe your per&s;wa&s;ions have been the cau&s;e of it, neither are you peradven|ture deceived. The true cau&s;e of my change is, becau&s;e I need not to lament <HI>Tamaris</HI> any more, having her pre&s;ent, and I having been a long time blind, in not perceiving it, nor rightly looking upon you, and &s;eeing it is &s;o, why &s;hould I langui&s;h? who forbids me, but you may be my companion as &s;he was, in my Crown and bed? Well, I am re&s;olved it &s;hall be &s;o, and I thought to communicate this my re&s;olu|tion
<PB N="84" REF="46">unto you, before I related it to my Councill, becau&s;e it concern|ed you mo&s;t: Peradventure it will &s;eem &s;trange to the world, and to your &s;elf al&s;o; but wi&s;e folks are not governed by cu&s;tomes, if they be hurtfull: that &s;ome filthy love drives me to this, it cannot be. I am witne&s;&s;e hereof to my &s;elf: I do not de&s;ire you as you are <HI>Igene,</HI> but as you are <HI>Tamaris,</HI> that <HI>Tamaris</HI> which I gained with my Lances point. You need not que&s;tion, whether <HI>Igene</HI> remained a&s;toni&s;hed at the &s;ound of this di&s;cour&s;e, but being forced to an&s;wer him, &s;he &s;aid: My Lord, I cannot believe your con&s;olation hath its origine from what you &s;ay, it being no great matter for Children to re&s;em|ble their Parents, &s;uch re&s;emblance being ordinary and natural. Nei|ther doth her being my Mother make me to be her, for then &s;hould I have an <HI>Igene</HI> as &s;he had, which I have not, unle&s;&s;e I multiply in my &s;elf; or become another, I cea&s;e to be what I was. Therefore (my Lord) if you will have me to be <HI>Tamaris,</HI> you mu&s;t make me to not be <HI>Igene,</HI> and being engendred of <HI>Theodoligus,</HI> make me to be borne of <HI>Rollone:</HI> which if it may be done, your plea&s;ure be fulfilled. But it is impo&s;&s;ible (my good Father) that you &s;hould have any &s;uch thought: it being too farre from the condition of &s;o vertuous a King and Father as you are. I be&s;eech you, that your con&s;olations may pro|ceed from &s;ome better cau&s;e, from your &s;elfe, from the fountain of tho&s;e vertues wherein you were alwaies exemplary to the world. And if you have been plea&s;ed to je&s;t with me to tempt me, I repute it to be the le&s;&s;e evill, &s;eeing you have no cau&s;e to do it. I having been educated in &s;uch manner, that my paternal and maternal ver|tues ought to make me guiltle&s;&s;e even from thinking, much more from committing any di&s;hone&s;t or di&s;&s;olute thing The King who&s;e under|&s;tanding griefe had formerly corrupted, thought he was not deceived, though he were &s;o, and firmly believed <HI>Igene</HI> was <HI>Tamaris,</HI> and if &s;he were not, that it was lawful for him to transform her, and that by al|tering the name, he might alter the relations, altering tho&s;e of Fa|ther and Daughter, into Husband and Wife: So that the poor Prin|ce&s;&s;e perceiving &s;he contended with an infirm &s;pirit, &s;he was content|ed he &s;hould &s;peak of it to the Councill, hoping they would contra|dict it; but &s;he was deceived, for where the two Pillars of &s;tate are broken in pieces, Religion and Honour, the former con&s;i&s;ting in ap|pearance, the latter in ambition, where titles are not conferred for merit, but wealth; where laws &s;erve for &s;nares, and not for protecti|on: where Delinquents put by their places of charge of ba&s;e and poor that they were at fir&s;t, are now become Officers, and rich, where there is no cen&s;ure upon tho&s;e who become rich again&s;t all po&s;&s;ibility and manife&s;t grounds; where the maxime of proper inte|re&s;t, excludes that of the publick; where he that follows vertue is re|puted a fool and a &s;ot, there are not to be expected any but wick|ed re&s;olutions, the directers being Hypocri&s;ie and Flattery. The Councill perceiving the King had made that propo&s;all, not to be con|&s;ulted upon, but concluded, found arguments to prove it nece&s;&s;ary for the intere&s;t of the Kingdom; and declared, that therein the pub|lick
<PB N="85" REF="46">good was concerned, being for the pre&s;ervation of the Kings life, for his goodne&s;&s;e, and valour nece&s;&s;ary to the &s;tate: That having run hazard of life in the lo&s;&s;e of his wife, and running hazard of it now, by the affection he bore to his Daughter, it ought to be look'd into, and he be &s;atisfied therein. That the matter was not of &s;uch mo|ment as the vulgar made it, &s;eeing that though law and cu&s;tome were contrary to it, nature &s;upplied the cu&s;tome, and new laws having power to derogate from the old ones. Yet was not this a&s;&s;embly &s;o void of men, but that there were &s;ome oppo&s;ers in it, wherein was taught us by their di&s;-favours, that Princes love to have ju&s;tice done, but not again&s;t them&s;elves. The Nuptials were decreed between the Father and the Daughter, changing the name of <HI>Igene</HI> into that of <HI>Tamaris,</HI> as if by this means the &s;ub&s;tance were changed, and as if the Gods would &s;ubject to the new declarations of mortals, the old de|crees of their divine providence; wherein if there were no written law, yet is there an internall one, which cryes and proclaims it with|in man. The Prince&s;&s;e hearing of this Declaration, not by &s;ecret re|lation, but publick proclamations, re&s;olving to die, rather then con|&s;ent to &s;uch a wicked and ince&s;tuous marriage, retired into her Cham|ber; where having called her Nur&s;e to her, &s;he related the pre&s;ent danger, to obviate the which, they found no other remedy but to fly. Among&s;t all her &s;ervants, I alone was made choice of to provide a Ve&s;|&s;el, which I did with &s;o much &s;ecre&s;ie, that the Prince&s;&s;e was em|barqued, and had put out to Sea before the King heard of it, it being done with great ea&s;e in the night. But the nights being very &s;hort at that &s;ea&s;on of the year, the King being I know not how advi&s;ed of her flight, got in per&s;on into a very &s;wift Ve&s;&s;el to fetch us back. We were but a little way off, when we e&s;pied him in pur&s;uit of us, and though we hanged out as much cloth as we could, and endeavoured as much as men could do, at la&s;t he overtook us, and he him&s;elf commanded our Marriners to lower the &s;ailes.</P>
<P>But I &s;hall relate a wonderfull thing to you; there aro&s;e at the &s;ame in&s;tant &s;uch a tempe&s;t, that the two ve&s;&s;els which were ready to touch, were &s;uddainly &s;eparated, and in le&s;&s;e then half an hours time had lo&s;t &s;ight of one another; whether their Ship did &s;ink (which we much doubt) or that the height of the waves took a|way the &s;ight of her from us. We after having fought with the winds and Sea for the &s;pace of &s;ixteen days, were ca&s;t upon this I&s;land, where we had lo&s;t both our &s;elves and the &s;hip, if at the &s;ame time the tempe&s;t had not cea&s;ed. We were holpen a&s;hore by the&s;e people with little Boats, without the lo&s;&s;e of any thing. Now the Prince&s;&s;e is here in great perplexity; &s;he believeth her Father to be drowned, having been advertized of &s;o much by him&s;elf in a dream. Neither is it a|bove four nights &s;ince he appeared unto her &s;o again, commanding her to marry a <HI>Druide,</HI> &s;aying, he had contracted the&s;e e&s;pou&s;als for for her with this <HI>Druides</HI> &s;i&s;ter, and him&s;elf: a thing which hath put
<PB N="86" REF="47">her into great perplexity, she not knowing how to under&s;tand the&s;e vi&s;ions, nor how to believe them, and he threatning her ruine if &s;he did any otherwi&s;e. Our &s;hip is lo&s;t, neither have we any meanes to get out here, if your Courte&s;ie (Sir-Knight) do not free us from her bringing us to &s;ome place where we may with incommodating any one either &s;tay or provide our &s;elves of a new ve&s;&s;el, as be&s;t shal plea&s;e the Prince&s;&s;e my Lady, who shall for this favour remain for ever obliged to you.</P>
<P>After <HI>Feredo</HI> had thought a while upon tho&s;e things which he had heard (not without amazement of the Knight, who began to doubt he was loath to do the Prince&s;&s;e this &s;ervice) an&s;wered him; Sir-Knight, I was born to perform the &s;ame duties as my profe&s;&s;ion binds me to &s;erve and help that &s;ex, e&s;pecially when a Lady of &s;o high a de|gree is concerned as the Prince&s;&s;e <HI>Igene</HI> is. Wherefore I hold my mi&s;|hap well employed, and hereafter call it my good Fortune, which hath brought me hither with &s;o much danger, again&s;t my de&s;ign and expectation, to become author of &s;o much good. I will willingly car|ry her away and all her followers out of this Iland, and convey her whither &s;he &s;hall plea&s;e. <HI>Dinacre</HI> (for &s;o was the Knight called) was much comforted by this courteous an&s;wer, and would have ki&s;&s;ed his hands for it, having &s;tood all this while in great fear of being &s;taid, or carried away again into <HI>Norway,</HI> or to have remained confined in that Iland for want of &s;hipping, there comming none thither but very &s;eldom upon occa&s;ion of fi&s;hing, which would have come late, and proved incommodious and uncertain for the Prince&s;&s;es u&s;e. Where|fore having thanked <HI>Feredo,</HI> he appointed to come to him again in the afternoon, to bring him to the Prince&s;&s;e. In the mean time returning to her lodging he related to her this happy encounter, and what had pa&s;&s;ed with him, which was very comfortable tidings to her, ha&s;tning the time of her departure, fearing every hour to fall into her Fathers hands again: the <HI>Orcades</HI> being at that pre&s;ent, &s;ubject to the Crown of <HI>Norway,</HI> and not in a long time after &s;old to the King of Scots. And to this end &s;he had given order all that while to her followers, that they &s;hould by no means make known who &s;he was, for fear of being retained there. <HI>Dinacre</HI> went according to his appointment to fetch the Prince to the Prince&s;&s;e, who longingly expected him, with great de&s;ire to be pre&s;ently &s;hipped away. <HI>Feredo</HI> had never before met with any &s;uch beauty, neither did he know whether to admire, or be ra|vi&s;hed with it mo&s;t; various, yet po&s;&s;ible effects where a new budd of amorous affection begins to &s;pring. <HI>Igene</HI> receiving him with extraor|dinary courte&s;ie (&s;atisfied by the beautifulle&s;t pre&s;ence that ever &s;he beheld in man) thanked him for the offers he had made to <HI>Dinacre:</HI> a&s;&s;uring him &s;he &s;hould never forget it, &amp; that it grieved her, &s;he was brought &s;o low by fortune, that &s;he could not requite him with effects equall to his courte&s;ies. <HI>Feredo</HI> recollecting his &s;pirits, an&s;wered, Ma|dam, I come hither to offer you, my &s;elf, my &s;hip and what&s;oever I
<PB N="87" REF="47">have. You have no need of your former fortunes to oblige me. Nature, inclination, and the order of knight hood having already &s;ufficiently bound me. I &s;ee you are but hereby lodged, the weather is fair, the &s;hip provided of water, therfore it wil be time to &s;hip your &s;elf, when you plea&s;e. You &s;hall command the &s;hip, and I hope the windes al&s;o, for there will no creature be able to di&s;obey &s;o much beauty. My voyage is into <HI>North-wales</HI> a Kingdom of <HI>Albion,</HI> a Country not farre di&s;tant from hence. If you plea&s;e to come thither, it &s;hall be at your di&s;po&s;all, if not, my will &s;hall be to go where you command me. <HI>Igene</HI> blu&s;hing at her own commendations (though very well de&s;erved) ha|ving given him thanks for his good wil. an&s;wered; That any part was indifferent to her. Therefore his fir&s;t proffer &s;hould be &s;ufficient trouble to him, to accommodate her and hers (meaning her mariners which were many) with pa&s;&s;age, without going out of his way, &s;he having no need of it. And having cau&s;ed all her goods to be &s;hipped, &s;he went aboord, joyfull to have e&s;caped all her conceived dangers, <HI>Feredo</HI> proud of having gotten &s;uch precious Ballace in his Ve&s;&s;el. They &s;ailed with a pro&s;perous Gale, and having no foul weather to make them Sea-&s;ick, he went often to entertain her in her Cabin, where &s;he having heard who he was, excu&s;ed her &s;elf for not having given him tho&s;e due re&s;pects his greatne&s;&s;e merited. And becau&s;e &s;he had as far as <HI>Norway</HI> heard &s;omthing of his mi&s;adventures, &s;he intrea|ted him to relate unto her the Hi&s;tory of them, which he willing|ly did: Not concealing how he had been a <HI>Druide</HI> a long time. The apparition of his &s;i&s;ter, with her Father in <HI>Tule.</HI> The order given him, to marry <HI>Igene</HI> or none. He de&s;cribed the face, habits, and age of <HI>The|odogilus</HI> as if he had been there pre&s;ent: and at la&s;t he &s;aid, Now Ma|dam you may apprehend, if I having heard your adventures by <HI>Di|nacre,</HI> and the name of <HI>Igene</HI> (which I knew not in that part of the world to enquire for) I did e&s;teem my &s;elf happy. Therefore &s;ince de&s;tinie hath made me your &s;ervant, I be&s;eech you what your wil con|curring thereunto, you will declare me &s;uch: which having &s;aid, he kneeled before her, and took her hand to ki&s;&s;e it, and did &s;o, though &s;he courteou&s;ly would have refu&s;ed it. The Prince&s;&s;e much moved, knew not which to do fir&s;t, lament her Fathers death or an&s;wer <HI>Fe|redo.</HI> She did both, and though confu&s;edly, and with words mingled with tears; yet &s;he mode&s;tly declared she was content with her de&s;ti|nies good di&s;po&s;all. There were pre&s;ent at the&s;e e&s;pou&s;alls <HI>Dinacre,</HI> the Nur&s;e and the waiting gentlewoman, &s;o that being full of joy, they mutually congratulated the fatall meeting of &s;o fair a couple. They arrived within few daies with pro&s;perous winds into <HI>North-Wales,</HI> landing at <HI>Bangor</HI> in the &s;treight of the Ile of <HI>Mon</HI> about four and twenty miles from <HI>Arlech,</HI> where at that time the King held his Court. The fame of his arrivall was pre&s;ently &s;pread all the Country over, men of all &s;orts, and women flocking thither, de&s;irous to &s;ee their Prince after &s;o many years as it was &s;ince they had lo&s;t him. His
<PB N="88" REF="48">Father being advi&s;ed thereof by reiterated me&s;&s;engers, commanded all the nobility to go and meet him, and being more particularly informed by <HI>Cataulo</HI> (who was ridden before) how all things &s;tood, and particularly touching <HI>Igene;</HI> And notwith&s;tanding he was very aged, yet hee got upon hor&s;eback to meet them, accom|panied by all the noble&s;t Ladies of the Kingdome; <HI>Feredo</HI> was welcomed by his Father with tears of tenderne&s;&s;e and joy. <HI>Igene</HI> re|ceived as a daugher, and honoured as Queen. And after the daies appointed for re&s;t, and preparation of the nuptials were pa&s;t, they were married, peaceably enjoy|ing their fatall loves, with pro&s;perity worthy both their perfections.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 N="3" TYPE="book">
<PB N="89" REF="48">
<HEAD>THE THIRD BOOK OF CORALBO.</HEAD>
<P><HI>_CORALBO</HI> langui&s;hed a long time in <HI>Ericu&s;a,</HI> not without great danger of death, &s;everall times be|ing upon the very point of lo&s;ing his life, had it not been for the diligent care of the Dutche&s;&s;e <HI>Chri&s;anta.</HI> The wounds were not mortall, yet &s;o dangerous, that he was often bemoaned for dead. Let us for pitty let him re&s;t, let us forbear being cruel to him, and let us not put him into actions and journeyes before his wounds be cicatrized. We will &s;peak of <HI>Almadero</HI> arrived into <HI>Lu&s;itania,</HI> with his &s;econd pretended Wife: We will admire in a Prince of &s;o con&s;tant nature, the unlook't for effects of &s;uch incon&s;tancy, that we may thereby gather, that as all good cau&s;es do not produce effects (like unto them&s;elves, &s;o that of evill effects, &s;ome there be which have their Origine from good motions of the &s;oul, or from the motions of another under&s;tanding of a better &s;oul, by us not compleatly under&s;tood.</P>
<P>After <HI>Philarchus</HI> had taken (as we &s;aid) <HI>Almadero's</HI> armour, to make him&s;elf thought to be <HI>Almadero,</HI> he &s;carcely arrived into <HI>Gaules,</HI> but he heard of <HI>Viriato's</HI> death; wherefore returning into <HI>Lu&s;itania,</HI> and not finding <HI>Almadero</HI> there, he re&s;olved, (having &s;een the Govern|ment of the Interregnum fir&s;t &s;et in order) to &s;eek him every where. His fir&s;t journey was to <HI>Leuciana,</HI> but fortune left him there no light at all of him; the Prie&s;t, who had unburied <HI>Liarta,</HI> being dead, and <HI>Dorcallo</HI> as ignorant of all the &s;ecrets concerning it, as it was confu&s;ed, becau&s;e he knew no what was become of his Brother, &s;o that depar|ting
<PB N="90" REF="49">from thence, he happened in the entrance of the Kingdom of <HI>Ca&s;tile</HI> into the &s;ame harbor <HI>Almadero</HI> had lodged, where by divers circum&s;tances comprehending that it was he, he came upon his tracks by the marks of his Armour into <HI>Italy,</HI> where he &s;ought to no end in all the Princes Courts, till at la&s;t arriving at <HI>Parthenope,</HI> he met &s;ome body who gave him certain news, that he was come to <HI>Ericu&s;a.</HI> Where|fore having cro&s;&s;ed that Kingdom, he came among&s;t the <HI>Salentines,</HI> and taking a Ve&s;&s;el at <HI>Hydrontum,</HI> he pre&s;ented him&s;el unlooked for to the &s;ight of <HI>Almadero,</HI> almo&s;t at that time as the Prince of <HI>Pheacia</HI> lay a dying, the advices he fir&s;t gave him were of his Fathers death; the de&s;ire with which he was expected by all the orders of the &s;tates, the need of his &s;peedy return into <HI>Lu&s;itania. Almadero</HI> contrary-wi&s;e, related unto him his new loves; and though the memory of the old ones cau&s;ed tears to trickle from his eyes, yet the propriety of nature cau&s;ed him to comfort him&s;elf, opinion having taken from him all hope of ever po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ing her again: a thing (as well as all others) mo&s;t wi&s;ely di&s;po&s;ed of by nature, otherwi&s;e this cour&s;e of life would be unu&s;efuly and contrary to its ends, employed in nothing but pa&s;|&s;ions and dolours. Re&s;olved then (upon the &s;uppo&s;ition of this pri|vation) to take to him the Prince&s;&s;e of <HI>Pheacia</HI> in &s;tead of his decea&s;|ed wife. He &s;ent <HI>Philarcus</HI> back into <HI>Lu&s;itania</HI> with Orders from him, commanding him to return again pre&s;ently, with a fair Fleet, and a &s;ufficient train of Ladies, for the &s;uppo&s;ed Queens attendance. But no &s;ooner were the King and his pretended Queen arrived to <HI>Oli|&s;ippo,</HI> and Crowned, but there revived again in <HI>Almadero,</HI> the anci|ent affections of his decea&s;ed wife, with &s;uch bitter pa&s;&s;ions, that finding no con&s;olation, he de&s;ired to &s;ee her once again, under pre|tence of having her buried with her young Sonne in the Tombs of his predece&s;&s;or Kings. Which though it did not plea&s;e the Queen ve|ry well: yet &s;he would not be &s;een to oppo&s;e him in &s;o pious an of|fice, worthy the gratefull remembrance of &s;o good a Prince; and &s;o much the rather, that the other having been his wife, and had a Child by him, it &s;eemed to be an unworthy thing, to leave tho&s;e bones in an ignoble and unknown Tomb, without any in&s;cription, whereby it might &s;o much as any way be known that <HI>there lay Liarta.</HI> Clothing him&s;elf therefore, and the whole Court in mourning, he went to <HI>Leu|ciana,</HI> where looking upon <HI>Dorcallo</HI> with an evill eye, and having open|ed the Tomb, he found the Child, but no Mother, no &s;innen, nor bones, or any thing el&s;e belonging to her. <HI>Almadero</HI> raged at it, for every one knew that there &s;he was buried, and no man could imagine how &s;he &s;hould have been taken from thence, unle&s;&s;e &s;he had been conveyed away by <HI>Dorcalloes</HI> means, at <HI>Viriato's</HI> command, or burned, that the a&s;hes being thrown away, the memory of her &s;hould utterly peri&s;h: For he had no rea&s;on at all to think her alive: or what could <HI>Dorcallo</HI> an&s;wer, being utterly ignorant of what had happened, and he dead who alone could have told the true cau&s;e of that bodies be|ing wanting? He was therefore beheaded, and though unju&s;tly for what was alledged again&s;t him; yet ju&s;tly, in&s;omuch that he through
<PB N="91" REF="49">his indi&s;cretion, had been the only cau&s;e of all the evill had happen|ed in this bu&s;ine&s;&s;e: Nothing could be drawn out of the innocent criminal in his torments, but bitter execrations of his ignorances confe&s;&s;ing him&s;elf worthy of any puni&s;hment what&s;oever, if he fal|&s;ified in any thing which was demanded of him. So that the Judges being in a confu&s;ion, and <HI>Almadero</HI> more then they, he was con&s;train|ed to return to <HI>Oli&s;ippo,</HI> with the body of the Child, and lay alone (after the funeral Ob&s;equies were performed) in his Ance&s;tors Mo|numents. While&s;t his de&s;ire encrea&s;ed every day to lay the Mother by it, &s;he being alive, and therefore incapable of bearing the Child company in that place. The grieved King was come to that pa&s;&s;e, that he took no joy in any thing. And as his goodne&s;&s;e being great, forced him to u&s;e the new Queen well, yet could not he force his luke-warm affection to be reinflamed, one evill being produced by another: For finding no comfort in the lo&s;&s;e of his fir&s;t wife he was in de&s;pair becau&s;e he could not love, but even by a &s;ecret and occult violence, con&s;trained to abhor the &s;econd, and that (as he thought) again&s;t rea&s;on; &s;he being innocent and blamele&s;&s;e. Extravagant dreams al&s;o increa&s;ed this new humour in him, which every night re|pre&s;ented <HI>Liarta</HI> alive unto him, reproaching him with the violation of his marriage laws, by making another woman participant of his bed, &s;he being yet alive, and which was wor&s;e, with the title of wife: Whether this chanced through the extream &mdash; of his new thoughts, which altering his &s;pirits, repre&s;ented the&s;e new phanta&s;ms unto him. Or becau&s;e &s;ouls really participating of the Graces of di|vinity, come even in the very aby&s;&s;e of ignorance in &s;ome manner il|luminated with truth. The Queen on the other &s;ide (in whom her Husbands melancholly grew &s;o much the more in&s;upportable for the pre&s;ent, as his precedent favours were before grown to a kind of ex|ce&s;&s;e) finding her &s;elf brought to a wor&s;er &s;tate then a widdows, re|&s;olved one day to &s;ay thus to him: My Lord, If in one that is accu&s;to|med to evill, cu&s;tome may di&s;po&s;e the mind to &s;uffering, without &s;uf|ferance. Certainly one that is u&s;ed to well-being, cannot endure to &s;uffer a privation of it, without extream grief, I &s;hall have little labour then to make you capable of my &s;ences: in the horrible change of your carriage I di&s;cover &s;ome time &s;ince towards me, a change to oppo&s;ites. I &s;hould &s;ay from love to hate, if I doubted I had gi|given you any cau&s;e to de&s;erve it by any defect in my &s;elf. as without cau&s;e I find it, thanks to the mon&s;trous effect of your unheard of in|con&s;tancy. I am a woman, and born a Prince&s;s, you a Knight and a King; wherefore if we &s;peak of courte&s;ie, you owe it to the &s;ex as a Knight: if of duty, you are manifoldly obliged unto me as a King. Wherefore I cannot chu&s;e but &s;tile my &s;elf grievou&s;ly offended by you, if not fully deceived: I accu&s;e you therefore for it, before your own tribunall, de&s;iring that you may tell me in what I have &s;o far erred, that I &s;hould de&s;erve to be in <HI>Lu&s;itania</HI> di&s;po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ed of that af|fection, which you e&s;teeming me worthy of, voluntarily be&s;towed upon me in <HI>Ericu&s;a?</HI> &s;he would have &s;aid more, but that her &s;obs and
<PB N="92" REF="50">&s;ighs &s;topped the pa&s;&s;age of her words, which made her give way to <HI>Almadero's</HI> an&s;wer, who being by her &s;peeches &s;urprized and confu|&s;ed, after he had a little bethought him&s;elf, an&s;wered her thus; Ma|dam, I fir&s;t of all promi&s;e you, not before mine own tribunall &s;eat, but before the high tribunall of the divine powers, that I will ho|nour you as long as I live, with the &s;ame terms of honour, as hereto|fore I have done. I acknowledge my &s;elf obliged unto you in every di&s;tinction and title; I a&s;&s;ure you, you can not more efficaciou&s;ly il|lu&s;trate your right, nor more grievou&s;ly ob&s;cure mine, then I do my &s;elf. One thing only I be&s;eech you, that in this mine inju&s;tice, you would repute me innocent and guiltle&s;&s;e. I made choice of you (Madam) for the only moderatrix of all mine affections, while I be|lieved there was none other before you, that could be an object of them, or moderate them, which I did with that con&s;tancy, and &s;in|cerity of mind, of which I will not &s;ay the effects, (&s;eeing to you they &s;eem to dimini&s;h) but the Con&s;cience may afford &s;uch witne&s;&s;e to, as I alone know to be upright and void of deceipts. But (alas) what &s;hall I do if the heavens prote&s;ting unto me that another is living, bury me in ignorance of her death, and force me, having failed in my duty towards my fir&s;t wife, to fail now in the &s;econd towards you, for no other cau&s;e, but only becau&s;e I doubt that I have former|ly failed? My fore-pa&s;t mi&s;-fortunes are not unknown to you Ma|dam, my marriage to <HI>Liarta,</HI> nor after her marriage, her pre&s;umed death, her not being found in the Grave where &s;he was buried. Add to this, how there pa&s;&s;eth &s;carce any night, but &s;he appears to me in a dream, tells me &s;he is living, reproves me for being wedded to you, a&s;&s;ures me it will not be long before &s;he comes to revi&s;it me, advi&s;ing me in the mean time, to provide for your honour and per&s;on before &s;he comes. I cannot &s;o much as dream on believing of dreams: Hea|vens do not deceive; and when for a puni&s;hment they lull our un|der&s;tandings a&s;leep; they do not do it by manife&s;t vi&s;ions, but by terms wrapt up in clouds, to the end that the judgements eyes may not pierce thereinto. In my ca&s;e, there are the evidences of an un|der&s;tanding, illuminated by that &s;peciall grace which (flying a ma|licious &s;oul, that in the abominable way of intere&s;ts, imagines it can|not erre, when it is ready to precipitate) doth not fail a well di&s;po|&s;ed mind; and in the thicke&s;t darkne&s;s di&s;covers to it the rayes of its light that it may not fall. If mine in&s;tinct was alwaies remote from all manner of deceipt, why &s;hould I deceive you, a Prince&s;&s;e of &s;uch merit, to the dammage of my reputation and honour? I have e&s;pou|&s;ed you, cho&s;e you for companion of my life, and Lady of the King|dom, it is true: but I did it not for any intere&s;t in your &s;tates and fortunes, but only for the worth of your per&s;on, for tho&s;e rare beau|ties which after <HI>Liarta's</HI> incomparable ones, had only power to bind me. I have believed her dead, and upon this &s;uppo&s;ition I erred a|gain&s;t her, again&s;t you, again&s;t my &s;elf; and if now, I erre again, and am again deceived, I &s;hall not deceive others. For dead (and to di&s;cover this, I de&s;ire but four months time) you &s;hall find <HI>Alma|dero</HI>
<PB N="93" REF="50">the &s;ame to you in <HI>Lu&s;itania,</HI> as he was in <HI>Pheacia:</HI> and being dead, take what amends you plea&s;e for my fault, &s;o that you judge it as it is, void of malice and deceipt.</P>
<P>No rea&s;on, be it never &s;o pregnant, can comfort a woman in the mid&s;t of her pa&s;&s;ions, e&s;pecially if &s;he have likelihoods and rea&s;ons on her &s;ide, as indeed <HI>Laodomia</HI> had many. She judged <HI>Almadero</HI>'s vi&s;ions to be but imaginations rai&s;ed up by <HI>Liartas</HI> old love, her new love fayling. This defect proceeding (as oftentimes it happens in lovers after a violent de&s;ire) from the po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion of the per&s;on. But &s;he could not grow &s;o fierce, but he humbled him&s;elf the more, de&s;iring onely to have patience but for the&s;e four months, which were not|with&s;tanding rather extorted from her then granted by her. Lea|ving her therefore in the City, he went to <HI>Leuciana,</HI> intending to &s;pend that time there. Having cau&s;ed <HI>Radimiro</HI> and <HI>Dorilla</HI> to be en|quired for every where. Their ab&s;ence (with very good rea&s;on) more then any thing el&s;e, making him believe <HI>Liarta</HI> to be alive, for if &s;he were dead they had no rea&s;on to ab&s;ent them&s;elves out of <HI>Lu&s;i|tania</HI> while&s;t he reigned. He would lodge in the &s;ame rooms where &s;he was Pri&s;oner, pa&s;&s;ing his time in lacrimous invocations. He com|plained by rea&s;on &s;he came not, as if a promi&s;e had been already made to delay it no longer. It was in the mean time divulged abroad by an open murmuring, that <HI>Liarta's</HI> &s;haddow had been &s;een near to her Tombe, which went &s;o far, that <HI>Almadero</HI> being one night at &s;up|per, there was newes brought to him of it, as of a thing affirmed and &s;een by diver&s;e. Who, being &s;ent for, averred that they had &s;een the Prince&s;&s;e (whom they knew very well when &s;he was living) clothed in fine white linnen, &s;itting by the &s;tone which clo&s;ed up her tombe: And whil&s;t between que&s;tions and an&s;wers they &s;tood in great &s;u&s;|pence and &s;ilence, there was a delicate voice heard, which without the Ca&s;tle ditch as it were one that called, pronounced twice the name of <HI>Lilla.</HI> The King heard it and knew it, ro&s;e from the Table, and going to the window, and chiding the Sentinell for &s;hewing him|&s;elf too &s;lack in his office in that occa&s;ion: he could &s;ee nor hear no more at that time. The night was very dark, yet for all that the Sentinell related he had &s;een one clothed in white, come, call, and go away. That he was once about to have &s;hot, and had wounded her, if he had not thought her to be a woman. The King commanding him expre&s;sly to &s;ay nothing to it, retired, and was all the re&s;t of the night him&s;elf a carefull watchman, &s;ending al&s;o into the Churchyard to &s;ee if it did not appear there. But dead &s;he might well be there, for alive as he de&s;ired to have her, &s;he could not; the voice being heard with|out the-Ca&s;tle-walls: who&s;e ingre&s;&s;es and gates were kept &s;hut every where. The day-break hardly appeared in the Hori&s;on, when <HI>Almade|ro</HI> &s;eeing his expectations prove vain, re&s;olved to go to &s;leep, if the perturbation of his troubled &s;pirits would have afforded him any re&s;t. But he &s;oon perceived that troubled minds carried with them their torments. Wherefore ri&s;ing and going out, with <HI>Philarchus</HI> alone, he looked in all the plces thereabouts, and finding nothing, not &s;o
<PB N="94" REF="51">much as his old ma&s;ter (to who&s;e Cottage he went) gave <HI>Philarchus</HI> occa&s;ion (reputing the&s;e pains u&s;ele&s;&s;e, and his afflictions hurtfull) to pray him to return, remon&s;trating to him that the voices he had heard were imaginations, and meer illu&s;ions. The &s;haddowes of <HI>Li|arta,</HI> that if they were reall thing (being aereall forms, and &s;pirituall &s;ub&s;tances) they could not appear but in the night. Daylight being an enemy and a powerfull di&s;&s;ipatour of Phanta&s;mes and Gho&s;ts, <HI>Almadero</HI> knew not how to di&s;pute the&s;e things. But his own pra|ctice &s;eemed to him to be of as much authority as any Mathemati|call demon&s;tration, which in a corrupted &s;ence implies to any imagi|nation. Wherefore returning into the Ca&s;tle, he pa&s;&s;ed the re&s;t of the day in the &s;ame trouble, and was very excu&s;able for it. There be|ing no re&s;olution more difficult to be taken, then that which hangs betwen ambiguity and truth. Night being come, he went to tho&s;e Balcones from whence <HI>Liarta</HI> was wont to &s;peak to him: and cau&s;ing the lights to be taken from thence, that they might be no more hin|derance, and that he might the better &s;ee without being &s;een, &s;taid there till pa&s;t &s;upper time; but nothing appearing, moved rather by &s;hame then hunger, he &s;upped and went to bed. Hee had not &s;carce &s;lept his fir&s;t &s;leep, when there was a great noi&s;e all about, and his &s;er|vants being awake came in, and told him, Sir, my Ladies Gho&s;t &s;tands firm in the Church-yard, where any one may behold it. <HI>Al|madero</HI> rouzing him&s;elf out of his &s;leep, calling for a night-gown, ran almo&s;t naked, accompanied onely by <HI>Philarchus</HI> and &s;ome few hou&s;e|hold &s;ervants who were with him.</P>
<P><HI>Liarta</HI> (after we left her) having taken Harbour in <HI>Barcinone,</HI> weary of the Sea, not &s;o much to end her journey on hor&s;eback, and be informed of <HI>Almadero</HI>'s bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, as to conceal her arrivall, which would have been ea&s;ilier known if &s;he hadd taken harbour in <HI>Lu&s;itania.</HI> All which &s;he did, being not yet re&s;olved on the manner whereby &s;he &s;hould make her &s;elf known. She heard with uncredible plea&s;ure the grief which <HI>Almadero</HI> &s;uffered for her, and how he was re&s;olved to &s;ojourn at <HI>Leuciana.</HI> She arrived thither with all the &s;ecrecy as might be. There came into her fancy diver&s;e expedients, whereof &s;he cho&s;e one which was the &s;trange&s;t and mo&s;t phanta&s;ticall; either becau&s;e &s;he would make more certain triall of <HI>Almadero's</HI> love, or becau&s;e be|ing naturally inclined to mirth, &s;he de&s;ired to take &s;ome plea&s;ure after &s;o much &s;orrow. She was of a mo&s;t plea&s;ant humour, a per&s;picuous under&s;tanding, inventive, ready, &mdash; &s;o that though &s;he had not been po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ed of &s;uch a rare beauty as &s;he was adorned withall, yet the conditions of her internall mind, which appeared &s;o re&s;plendent in all her actions, had been &s;ufficient to en&s;nare any affection what&s;o|ever, much more <HI>Almadero's</HI> which was long &s;ince enflamed with love. Qualities, which if in dome&s;tick conver&s;ation de&s;erved the name of amiable, changed their title in matters of greater importancy, where|in &s;he was e&s;teemed a worthy parallell of any prudence. And though her adver&s;ities had turned her plea&s;antne&s;&s;e into &s;adne&s;&s;e; yet hearing of <HI>Almadero</HI>'s amorous di&s;po&s;ition towards her, &s;he pre&s;ently put a|way
<PB N="95" REF="51">Melancholly, that ingratefull adoptive Child, having again en|tertained mirth, her naturall legitimate Daugher. She might have written or &s;ent by <HI>Radimiro,</HI> and &s;o have ended the play at one game or two; but &s;he would not, rather enclined to bring him about another way.</P>
<P>Being arrived by night to <HI>Leuciana,</HI> to <HI>Terrino's</HI> Cabin (who was <HI>Al|madero's</HI> old Ma&s;ter) &s;he lodged there, having told him what &s;he would have him do. But having heard of the old Prie&s;ts death, who had taken her out of the Grave, &s;he thought to make u&s;e of his &s;ucce&s;&s;or; where|fore having delivered &s;ome &s;mall pre&s;ents to <HI>Terrino,</HI> &s;he &s;ent them to the Prie&s;t by him, and to intreat him to come forth of the Fort to vi&s;it a &s;ick body, who had a certain &s;ecret to intru&s;t unto him before it dy|ed. <HI>Terrino</HI> did his emba&s;&s;age faithfully, and brought him out to his little Cabine. <HI>Bermondo</HI> (for &s;uch was the Prie&s;ts name) had known <HI>Liarta,</HI> and had with others been at her Funeralls: wherefore the ter|ror, for &s;eeing her now alive, would have been great, if &s;he had not emboldned him by preventing him; and this al&s;o upon the &s;uddain would have done but little good, if the pre&s;ence of <HI>Radimiro</HI> and <HI>Do|rilla</HI> had not encouraged him. She recounted unto him what had hap|pened to her, how &s;he revived, and how &s;he was taken out of the Grave. She intreated him to a&s;&s;i&s;t her, in bringing to a happy period, her hitherto unhappily repre&s;ented Tragi-comedy, &s;hewing nothing could thereby redound unto him, but weale, benefits, and favours. <HI>Bermondo</HI> having con&s;idered all things, embraced the occa&s;ion of &s;o good a fortune without any contradiction, and having concluded what was to be done, returned home again, and having given her the be&s;t directions he could, he came forth again to fetch her together with <HI>Radimiro</HI> and <HI>Dorilla,</HI> the two clothed like Country La&s;&s;es, the third like a Country fellow laden with provi&s;ion. The two maidens were pa&s;s'd unknown, when as chance would have it (to bring the bu&s;ine&s;&s;e the better to pa&s;&s;e) at the turning of a corner of a wall, <HI>Radimiro</HI> meeting with a familiar acquaintance of his, pre&s;ently knew him notwith&s;tanding his di&s;gui&s;e; yet was &s;o circum&s;pect, that ima|gining &s;uch a habit could not be without &s;ome my&s;tery, followed him void of any evill thought, knowing <HI>Radimiro</HI> well enough alrea|dy to be wondrous hone&s;t: and the Ca&s;tle at that time free from any jealou&s;ie, and no confines any way &s;u&s;pitious, did let him go into the hou&s;e, thinking he would have come out again pre&s;ently; but &s;eeing he &s;tayed, he knocked at the door, and told <HI>Bermondo</HI> who came out to an&s;wer him; he de&s;ired to &s;peak with the Country-man, who came but now into the hou&s;e: <HI>Bermondo</HI> no whit di&s;maied, though &s;ome|what di&s;plea&s;ed thereat, yet being it was to no purpo&s;e to deny that which was already evident; he went in and told <HI>Radimiro</HI> who it was enquired for him. Who after he had cau&s;ed him to come in, and lo|vingly embraced him, related unto him the occa&s;ion of his coming in &s;uch manner, recommending the &s;ecre&s;ie thereof unto him, and de&s;iring a&s;&s;i&s;tance of him if need &s;hould require. <HI>Poncius</HI> (for &s;o this friend was called) hearkned to this news with great joy, con&s;ider|ing
<PB N="96" REF="52">that the Queen being alive, the King would be free from all trou|bles, and offering him all a&s;&s;i&s;tance he was able to give, came outa|gain pre&s;ently. Night being come, <HI>Liarta</HI> clothed her &s;elf in white linnen, like unto that wherein &s;he was buried, and as all women u&s;ed in tho&s;e days to be buried. She came into the Church-yard, and &s;at her down upon the Tomb &s;ide, in which the precedent yeare &s;he had been enclo&s;ed, it happened then very luckily, that <HI>Poncius</HI> knew <HI>Ra|dimiro,</HI> for being in&s;tructed by <HI>Bermondo,</HI> taking &s;ome friends along with him (pretending to invite them home to &s;upper) pa&s;&s;ed along by the Church-yard, where that white appearing to them, every one was affrighted at it. But when <HI>Poncius,</HI> who made &s;hew of being in greater fear then any of the re&s;t, &s;aid, that it was <HI>Liarta's</HI> Gho&s;t, they all ran away, and he the foremo&s;t. There was at that time in <HI>Leuciana,</HI> an old woman called <HI>Safilea,</HI> who had been a Wa&s;her-woman to <HI>La|arta,</HI> who had &s;o grieved at her pretended death, that &s;he had like to have dyed with &s;orrow: &s;o that <HI>Dorilla</HI> relating many times to her Mi&s;tre&s;&s;e, the accidents which befell in that unfortunate mi&s;hap, tel|ling her this poor womans affections towards her, &s;he was afterwards very beneficiall to her, affording her very good means to live, and leave &s;tore of wealth to her Heirs. This woman was then coming from a hou&s;e where &s;he had been a wa&s;hing according to her wonted cu&s;tome, and becau&s;e it was dark, had gotten a great lighted fire|brand in her hand in &s;tead of a Torch to light her, and the way to her poor Cottage being along by the Church-yard &s;ide, <HI>Liarta</HI> being ri|&s;en off the Tomb, and leaning on the Church-yard wall, which was not above girdle high, to &s;ee <HI>Poncius</HI> and his companions run, or ra|ther tumble one over another; this old woman came by, agitating and &s;tirring the Fire-brand up and down, that it illuminated the am|bient air &s;o much, that <HI>Liarta</HI> knew her, and called her by her name: the good woman knowing the voice, and calling her to mind, ama|zed with horror, &s;tood as &s;he had been growen into the ground, not able to move any part of her, not &s;o much as her eyes, already fixed on <HI>Liarta's</HI> face, for want of &s;pirit. All the motion was, and this al&s;o an effect of immobility, the falling of the Fire-brand out of her hands, and burning her &s;hooes, and the hem of her Garments, which <HI>Liarta</HI> perceiving, came out of the Church-yard, and &s;haking her by the hand, told her &s;he was alive, and bid her not be affraid: But all this would not &s;erve, &s;he was forced to run in and &s;end out <HI>Bermondo, Radimiro,</HI> and <HI>Dorilla,</HI> to carry her home, where after much difficulty and trouble, &s;he came to her &s;elf again. She in the mean time, taking plea&s;ure in others fears, delighted the more therein, the greater and more dangerous the fright was. The ordinary of &s;uch humours be|ing to delight inventions; deceiving of others being the object of their pa&s;times. She would fain have affrighted <HI>Almadero,</HI> to revenge the injury done her in marrying another wife &s;o &s;oon, &s;he threatned him therewith, and u&s;ed her be&s;t endeavours to do it, but &s;he could not, love being &s;overaign above all terrors and affections. <HI>Dorilla</HI> be|ing come again from <HI>Safilea,</HI> weary with toyling, and tired with laugh|ter
<PB N="97" REF="52">&s;aid to <HI>Liarta.</HI> Madam, I know not what is in your mind: You have been dead, you have been buried, and have certainly contract|ed &s;ome friend&s;hip with tho&s;e of the other world. I would not goe alone into that Church-yard upon no conditions what&s;oever. Becau&s;e thou art a fool an&s;wered <HI>Liarta,</HI> who can hinder thee, but onely thy credulity to others phanta&s;ticall imaginations? fill not your head with &s;uch imaginations, and yon will be void of terrors. What harm can the Church-yard, or the dead that lie in it do you? One enemy kils another nature prompting him, that after he is dead he could do him no harm. For if he thought he could trouble him being dead, it would no way avail him to take away his life. And on the other &s;ide, it would be good for him that wants &s;trength in his life time to revenge him&s;elf of his Enemy, to die, that he might after death be avenged on him. Dead men do not affright nor endammage any. I am exceed|ing fearfull replyed <HI>Dorilla,</HI> and &s;o would you too, (Madam) if as I &s;aid before, you had not made a league with them. I am in league with them indeed (&s;aid <HI>Liarta</HI>) but it was contracted by my Father, who cau&s;ed me to be brought up without any &s;uch terrors, as con|trary to all rea&s;on, they u&s;e to affright little children withall: where|by not onely fearfull women, but couragious and &s;tout men al&s;o come before they be aware to be awakened, and made &s;ubject to &s;uch vain fears. I believe neverthele&s;&s;e that the Gods have &s;ometimes given us documents this way, neither could this either be credible by any ar|guments of nature, if tho&s;e of piety did not teach it us; but to make an ordinary and common practice thereof, is a fooli&s;h thing unworthy a &s;olid and well in&s;tructed under&s;tanding. Believe me; that of &s;o many that have profe&s;&s;ed they have &s;een phan|ta&s;mes and apparitions; either they have been mi&s;taken, or have feighned, to laugh at others &s;implicities; or have been deceived, as <HI>Pon|cius</HI> &amp; <HI>Sa&s;ilea</HI> were even now. <HI>Dorilla</HI> notwith&s;tanding &s;tood ob&s;tinately in her former opinion, thinking it was no plea&s;ant thing to be &s;uch waies deceived. <HI>Liarta</HI> went out of the Ca&s;tle the next day before the Gates were &s;hut, and all her company in the &s;ame manner as they went in. <HI>Poncius</HI> a&s;&s;i&s;ting thereunto what&s;oever might happen. She being gone to <HI>Terrino's</HI> hou&s;e, came towards midnight to the out &s;ide of the rampires to cry <HI>Lilla,</HI> and then it was that <HI>Almadero</HI> heard her. There remained now the la&s;t act to play for which &s;he was forced to go into the Ca&s;tle again: where having clothed her &s;elfe to the be&s;t advantage for her beauty, though plain in white as before|times, &s;he would have <HI>Bermondo</HI> and <HI>Radimiro</HI> put on white habits al&s;o. Which they did, and taking &s;ome in&s;truments with them, they opened the Tomb for her, as &s;he had commanded, a work, which be|ing it could not be done without making a noi&s;e, gave the neigh|bours occa&s;ion to look out, and &s;eeing the men in white linnen, and the Gho&s;t walking in the Church-yard (which they had heard &s;peak of peradventure more then was true) all ran in and lock|ed them&s;elves in at doores. <HI>Bermondo</HI> in the mean time was gone in|to the grave with a candle and lantern, and taking out the candle, had &s;et it upright in the middle of the Grave, which reverberating
<PB N="98" REF="53">its light towards, &s;hewed with a &s;haddowing light, the grave open, and <HI>Liarta</HI> &s;itting upon the &s;ide of it. <HI>Pencius</HI> on the other &s;ide, had taken two men along with him upon occa&s;ion of going the round, and pa&s;&s;ing along by the Church-yard, &s;eeing the light which came out of the grave, and <HI>Liarta</HI> there, carried newes thereof to the Court, whereupon the King as we &s;aid before came in per&s;on to behold the thing he &s;o much de&s;ired to &s;ee. <HI>Liarta</HI> &s;tood attentive, to act her part well: and e&s;pying a far off by the lights the company which was comming, &s;he be&s;ought her &s;elf how &s;he was to &s;peak with <HI>Almadero</HI> him&s;elf; which &s;o far moved her, that her blood freezing, as it were, within her, &s;he grew pale, as if &s;he had done it a purpo&s;e, to make her &s;eem to be, as &s;he feigned her &s;elf, namely dead. <HI>Almadero</HI> had &s;ent a &s;ervant before, to bring him newes of the apparition: but his ardent affection making him &s;wifter then the me&s;&s;enger, he overtook him, &amp; was a&s;&s;ured of the de&s;ired object by his own eyes. <HI>Liarta</HI> was troubled a &s;econd time, and wanted but little of &s;owning. The tears &s;treamed out of tho&s;e two Fountains, which being alive were pretended dead. <HI>Almadero</HI> &s;tood wavering what he had be&s;t to do, but &s;pying the tears, he could not chu&s;e but &s;hed &s;ome for company. The little wall which encompa&s;&s;ed the Church-yard, or rather fear had &s;tayed the compa|ny. The King being got in, not through the entrance which was on the other &s;ide, but vaulted over the wall, commanded the re&s;t to &s;tay behind, and not follow him, wherein he was ea&s;ily obeyed, the affections of the &s;tanders by being diver&s;e, according to the variety of their temperaments. Some not onely not daring to look upon the &s;pirit, but doubting that, if it had looked upon them, they might re|ceive &s;ome great dammage by it. Others &s;eemed to be much comforted by that vi&s;ion, fearing nothing but that it would vani&s;h away too &s;oon. Some ob&s;erved that the behaviour of the other world, was like that of this world: the motion the &s;ame as that of animate bodies in this life. Others more tender, and compa&s;&s;ionate &s;eeing her weep, wept for company, not perceiving that &s;pirits had no need of handker|chers, to wipe off their tears as this did. <HI>Liarta</HI> was extreamly well plea&s;ed to &s;ee <HI>Almadero</HI> in the Churchyard alone: he contrarywi&s;e, was extreamly amazed &s;eeing the Tombe enlightned within &s;ide, which he had not at fir&s;t di&s;covered: and never having before &s;een &s;uch a &s;ight, it there fell in his mind whether this &s;pirit had not &s;ome dan|gerous and mi&s;chievous intention again&s;t him, becau&s;e he was mar|ried again to another, a &s;u&s;pition which &s;uddenly vani&s;hed away again, this fear, though great, being bani&s;hed by the violent affection of an exce&s;&s;ive love. This meeting would have been one of the greate&s;t trialls that ever was of <HI>Almadero's</HI> valour, if his being in love had not eclip&s;ed the tran&s;cendency of it. Being come within &s;ome four pa|ces of her, he &s;tood &s;till amazed, and di&s;tilling cold drops of &s;weat bur&s;t out in &s;uch words, Lady, Spirit, Angell, or Godde&s;&s;e, what&s;oe|ver thou be: as the &s;eeing of you heretofore was to me the chief of all happine&s;&s;es, &s;o would it be now the &s;upream of comforts, if you did but &s;hew your &s;elf &s;uch here, as you have been plea&s;ed to &s;hew your
<PB N="99" REF="53">&s;elf to me in my dreams. I e&s;teemed you alive, and &s;uch have you ap|peared to me in my vi&s;ions. But (alas) the&s;e your la&s;t apparitions, this open Tombe, this beautifull, but pale vi&s;age, &s;hew me the con|trary of that which to mine ine&s;timable beatitude I had undoubtedly promi&s;ed my &s;elf. Which being &s;o, I believe that your being yet will|ing to make me participant of your &s;weet pre&s;ence proceeds from this, that you being not able any more to come to me, I &s;hould &s;it my &s;elf to come to you. I am exceeding well content with it, and need no preparation for &s;o de&s;ired a voyage. Unca&s;e me out of this body, and do it quickly, for with it I dare not come near you. I fear my hands would tear, and my embracements di&s;compo&s;e the naturall connexi|on of your &s;o fair and &s;o much by me adored &s;haddow; wherefore to prevent me the falling into &s;uch an error, make me a free &s;pirit, be|cau&s;e the body being dead, and by &s;uch a means perpetually coupled to you, I may embrace you free from all danger of lo&s;ing you any more, by death or any other ca&s;ualty. <HI>Liarta</HI> had much adoe to bridle her tears, incited to a rapide cour&s;e by the &s;purrs of tenderne&s;&s;e. But vertue that ambitious Godde&s;&s;e, never failed of aid to tho&s;e as ido|lize her: wherefore with a placid look &s;he an&s;wered him. My beloved &s;pou&s;e, The vi&s;ions of the happy do not deceive but mortall &s;ences, are of no u&s;e, where I now &s;ojourn. Our Idiomes and &s;ignifications are far different from yours. If I told you I lived, I do not lie; nothing is wanting me towards a perfect life, you onely excepted. Therefore I come to you. I de&s;ire to have you, and &s;hall have you; if two repug|nant loves take you not away from me. That of the world, and of <HI>La|odamia.</HI> For to leave her that is alive, you living: to follow one in death, who is likewi&s;e dead, hath &s;ome impo&s;&s;ibility in a thing, com|po&s;ed of &s;ences as man is. Peradventure that your having loved me &s;o dearly, makes you yet retain &s;ome of that holy and legitimate flame unquenched after my decea&s;e. But &s;uppo&s;e you &s;hould take upon you, &s;o good and &s;o worthy a re&s;olution; what would you do with your &s;econd wife? Will you having brought her out of the <HI>Ea&s;t,</HI> leave her as a &s;tranger, to the arbitrement of &s;uch as wi&s;h her evill? you have done well in not adventuring to touch me: not becau&s;e ble&s;&s;ed &s;oules &s;uffer any &s;uch divi&s;ions as the Poets fain, but becau&s;e the e&s;&s;ay of &s;ences is not permitted to any living creature in &s;pirituall &s;ub&s;tances; And I doubting of the &s;ame in you, would with remedies prevent it: Behold me then in my former naturall body, now to this end rea&s;&s;u|med. No longer a meer &s;pirit am I, but of fle&s;h and bones, for with|out them I could not articulately utter tho&s;e word, which you plain|ly hear me pronounce. Wherefore with my permi&s;&s;ion you might lawfully touch and embrace me if I would &s;uffer you, <HI>Almadero</HI> hea|ring thus much, would have embraced her pre&s;ently, but &s;he &s;tretch|ing forth her hand with a mild &s;mile &s;aid. Stir not from thence (my dear <HI>Almadero</HI>) for you are not yet permitted to touch me, An&s;wer me fir&s;t to what I have demanded of you. He having laid a&s;ide all fear, an&s;wered. Will you do me then &s;o much wrong (Madam) as to be|lieve, that I can put in an equall ballance of compari&s;on that affecti|on
<PB N="100" REF="54">which I bear to you, with that towards others, and make a doubt of mine elections? The love of the world and of <HI>Laodamia,</HI> were al|waies in re&s;pect of that which I &s;hall eternally bear to my <HI>Lilla,</HI> of none e&s;teem. The fir&s;t was born with me, and you being dead, it dy|ed. The latter was a &s;mall &s;parkle, of that inextingui&s;hable fire, wherein my heart burns continually for you: wherefore an effect which &s;o far comes &s;hort of its cau&s;e, can not offer to be parallel to it, and have tho&s;e formalities you a&s;cribe it. I call heaven to wit|ne&s;&s;e, that had I not thought it pu&s;illanimity to not &s;uffer dolours, I had opened my &s;elf a pa&s;&s;age to another life, and opened my bre&s;t to have followed you. Neither had this withheld my hand, it was fear of rendring my &s;elf unworthy by any &s;uch act of your fellow&s;hip, that &s;taid me from any &s;uch violence. And this pa&s;&s;age being &s;hut to me, I &s;ought by betaking my &s;elf to a new love, to apply a plai&s;ter to mine incurable &s;ore, not thinking thereby to heal it, but only to mi|tigate it, hoping it would be a lenitive fitting to mitigate the corro|&s;ivene&s;&s;e of my wound. I did like tho&s;e di&s;ea&s;ed men, who being by &s;ome continuall pain deprived of &s;leep, and it being nece&s;&s;ary for them, make u&s;e of &s;oporiferous Medicines, drawing from a naturall Artifice that re&s;t, which nature denyeth them, and yet nece&s;&s;arily re|quireth. As for the re&s;t (Madam) to provide for the nece&s;&s;ities of my pre&s;ent wife, is a matter of no moment, for one to whom dying is the lea&s;t of all cares. I have a Brother who is mine Heir: I will appea&s;e my wife with gifts, I will fit her with a Fleet to carry her home, &s;he &s;hall be gone, and I will come. <HI>Liarta</HI> inwardly joyed hearing of this, but it not &s;ufficing her, lovers being greedy and de&s;irous in their joyes, &s;he replyed; The cour&s;e you mean to take (my <HI>Almadero</HI>) will be very good, if you be as well re&s;olved to die as you imagine you are: Examine your &s;elf, look well whether you be free from tho&s;e affecti|ons which humanity brings along with it: Whether heaven be your &s;cope: whether death which is a terror to others, be a comfort to you, repre&s;enting it &s;elf unto you: not as it brings impo&s;&s;ibility, and a di&s;annulling, but pain, and glory, light and darkne&s;&s;e, a &s;empiter|nall day, or a &s;empiternall night: Otherwi&s;e your re&s;olution would be very unadvi&s;ed, as contrary to &s;ence, nature, and rea&s;on, and to the di&s;po&s;ition of heaven it &s;elf, which doth not conde&s;cend to others pa&s;&s;ionate affects; to mine I &s;ay, to tho&s;e for which I de&s;ire you. Here <HI>Liarta</HI> made a &s;hort &s;top, &s;orry &s;he had let any &s;uch thing come forth of her mouth. Yet pre&s;ently (thinking &s;he might blanch it over) &s;he proceeded; I &s;ay this, as mi&s;doubting my &s;elf: I examine that &s;uch a de&s;ire can have no place in me, but by vertue of mine old flame of that ancient amorous affection, a humane pa&s;&s;ion, an effect of &s;ence, from which (thanks to death therefore) I now feel my &s;elf freely enfranchi&s;ed. Madam (replied <HI>Almadero</HI>) you tell me of things I do not under&s;tand. But as for what concerns you, none but you can plenarily re&s;olve me; and as for that belongs to me, I can expre&s;ly affirm. That my de&s;ire is good; that God may as well be lo|ved in the hone&s;t love of his creatures, as comprehended in the in|comprehen&s;ible
<PB N="101" REF="54">artifice of his works. Dying can be no annoyance to me: and if for the before alledged rea&s;ons it doth bring any to o|thers, the goods and the evils are different, according to each ones different imaginations. I am young, health-full, a King, conditions which may move me to love my life, yet I believe the contrary, is lawful to me, by rea&s;on, by &s;ence, by nature; The happine&s;&s;es or mi&s;eries, though in an equall degree, are not equall in all, being di|ver&s;ified by the diver&s;ities of phanta&s;ies, wants of health, and wants of means, are the reall cau&s;es why men grow weary of their lives; of which wants (God be prai&s;ed) I am void; it remains then, that dy|ing without any natural contradictions, depends upon tho&s;e pa&s;&s;ions which have tyrannicall Monarchy over others: I find my &s;elf in that &s;ick mans condition, who wanting no delicious kind of food, wants ta&s;ts to feel the &s;avourine&s;s of it. If my delight be not in any human felicity, why &s;hould I refu&s;e to die? My appetite &s;erves only for that which I have, not am like to have, which is your &s;elf. If you then dead, can not live again, nature having no &s;uch regre&s;s; why &s;hall I not die, to live with you who are my life, and to terminate tho&s;e tor|ments which are never like to end in me, but only by death? as for the re&s;t, unfold I pray you (Lady) the enigma's, or Riddles which you have propounded unto me, I clearly comprehending what you before &s;aid to me, namely that your idiomes and &s;ignifications, are far beyond our capacitites, &s;eeing they are not only far off, but to my capacity impo&s;&s;ible and contradictory. You &s;ay you are come to me, to the end I &s;hould come to you: This hath no repugnancy in it; yea, there is nothing I more approve of, or better under&s;tand: But this &s;eems to me to be repugnant, when you &s;ay you do not know, whether that be it preci&s;ely, for which you would have me, &amp; if you do will it, whether you can will it; for &s;uch a will being but the effect of the an|cient love, love a human pa&s;&s;ion, you by death free'd from pa&s;&s;ions, can not will, that which you can not; and being able, that incertain|ty &s;hould ari&s;e, whether the heavens do conde&s;cend to the&s;e af|fections or no<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> wherefore whether ble&s;&s;ed &s;ouls be capable of impli|cities, or whether a body already con&s;umed by time (as yours &s;hould be) may &s;hew it &s;elf uncorrupt without illu&s;ions, are &s;uch things as I not knowing, de&s;ire to be informed in them by you my &s;weet God|de&s;s; <HI>Liarta</HI> remained confounded by this reque&s;t, being taken on a &s;uddain upon a &s;ubject, if not quite remote from her notice, yet &s;o difficult, that it availed her much to have been brought up amid&s;t the ea&s;es of her Fathers hou&s;e, again&s;t the &s;tile of her &s;ex, in learning: So that having recour&s;e to her memory, that faithfull Trea&s;urer, and from her borrowing that little which &s;he could &s;ophi&s;tically an&s;wer to that purpo&s;e; &s;he &s;aid to him, You ask me (my <HI>Almadero</HI>) to know things which naturally exceed the faculty of yours and my under|&s;tanding, and that which is impo&s;&s;ible either for me to know, or you to be &s;atisfied in: Yet thus much I will tell you, That human intel|lect wanting power to have full knowledge of us, namely of the &s;ub|&s;tance of &s;eparated &s;ouls; when it is once come to know, that we are,
<PB N="102" REF="55">it proceeds no further: And if it doth proceed, that knowledge which it gains, extends not to tho&s;e things which are in us, but to tho&s;e which are not; ju&s;t as Philo&s;ophers do touching cele&s;tial bodies: they comprehend them in their being: no, but in their not being, averring them to be without gravity, without levity, ingenerable, incorrupti|ble. Moreover, the intellect not apprehending but by the means of &s;en&s;es; it is impo&s;&s;ible for one that is born blind, to have the knowledge of colours. The things which you require, are &s;o much beyond all your &s;en&s;es, as it being born without eyes, you would know the difference between black and white; while&s;t in the fir&s;t principles you do not know what the meaning of this act is, &s;ignifici|ed by this word Colour. And the impo&s;&s;ibilities of conceiving it in you, proceeds as much from the defect of your nature, as from that of mine, who am not able to give it you to under&s;tand: for though I at the pre&s;ent comprehend mine own proper e&s;&s;ence in a more per|&s;ect manner then when I lived; yet there is much wanting in that apprehen&s;ion: for otherwi&s;e there would be &s;ome Analogy (which can not be) between the knowledge of my &s;elf, and the act by which God knows him&s;elf. As concerning the contradictions which you al|ledge, they would be &s;uch, if the &s;piritual e&s;&s;ences had that commu|nion with the &s;en&s;es, which they have not. That I will have you, and do not know whether I will have you or no, is not becau&s;e that fir&s;t motion which &s;prung up in me, &s;eparated from the body, was not free and cleare; but becau&s;e being now joyned, I do find my &s;elf to be participant of the defects thereof, a thing which I did not ex|pect, fal&s;ely &s;uppo&s;ing that an accidentall conjunction, be&s;ides the providence of nature, would not re&s;tore me to that fir&s;t naturall ig|norance, into which I perceive my &s;elf to be fallen: &s;o that my pre|&s;ent under&s;tanding is not of a &s;eparated, but of a conjunct &s;pirit, and &s;ubject to the defects of this union, which prompts unto me &s;uch doubts as I had not before. And as the &s;evered &s;oul doth not appre|hend your bu&s;ine&s;&s;e with a new under&s;tanding, but by the benefit of memory; &s;o being incorporated, it cannot under&s;tand but only in that manner as is proper to this conjunction, and lo&s;eth in the laying down of its fir&s;t habit, that fir&s;t perfection which was proper to that fir&s;t habit. But let not the&s;e the&s;e things trouble you, (my Lord) they happen not but by Gods extraordinary di&s;po&s;ition. They are not to be &s;een but in me onely at this pre&s;ent; wherefore to frame thereon an undoubted conception, would be dangerous. A humane way of Philo&s;ophating, is too weak and lowly, to climb up to &s;uch a height: <HI>Almadero</HI> was now more confu&s;ed then at fir&s;t; the&s;e rea&s;ons giving him no &s;atisfaction: for to believe that able&s;&s;ed &s;oul &s;hould in its operations be ignorant of Gods will, he thought to be, both an ab&s;urd and impious opinion, and &s;uddainly entered into his thoughts a doubt, whether <HI>Liarta</HI> were one of the ble&s;&s;ed; or rather come to deceive him: which much troubling him, he replyed, Ma|dam, I confe&s;&s;e I now under&s;tand you le&s;&s;e then I did at fir&s;t: either your re&s;olution towards my per&s;on, is good or bad. If it be good, it
<PB N="103" REF="55">cannot be contrary to heavens will, neither do humane &s;en&s;es debar any one of &s;uch a knowledge. If it be bad, evill hath no compati|bility with ble&s;&s;ed &s;pirits: every one believes them to be free from all uncertainties, and fal&s;e opinions, and that their will being regula|ted, makes them aliene from applying them&s;elves to &s;uch actions, as do not belong to them. Things which you cannot be ignorant of, if you be of the ble&s;&s;ed ones. <HI>Liarta</HI> pre&s;ently de&s;cried his new &s;u&s;piti|on; and though &s;he inwardly laughed at it, yet &s;eeming to be offend|ed therewith, &s;he &s;aid; You are mightily mi&s;taken <HI>(Almadero)</HI> if ha|ving alwaies in this world found me ju&s;t, and a teller of truths, you will now imagine me to be in the other a lyer, and one of the damned. I do not know my &s;elf guilty (to my knowledge) of de|&s;erving eternall puni&s;hment by any greater &s;inne, then by idolizing you, and equalizing you in a manner in adoration and love to the Gods. I &s;peak it not to reproach my love to you, but you for the in|jury you do me. Seeing I now loving you more then ever I did, you pretend me to be come hither, to damn you with me: as if the dam|ned &s;ouls did in the Aby&s;s retain the comfortable affections of a legi|timate love, and feel &s;uch a delight therein, as I did to the very in|&s;tant of your pre&s;ent ingratitude. With that &s;he ha&s;tily turned about, making as though &s;he would creep back again into her Grave. The order &s;he had formerly given <HI>Almadero</HI> to not touch her, could not retain him from taking hold of the skirt of her Coat, and &s;aying to her: Madam, the tears I &s;hed for you at your death, and my tedious mournings &s;ince, might beg &s;ome excu&s;e for mine ignorance, and of you not to be &s;o penurious of your pre&s;ence to me, as you threaten you will: otherwi&s;e what &s;hall I think, but that you angry at my remaining alive after your death, will have me die now, not through any de&s;ire you have of my company, but rather in revenge, becau&s;e I came no &s;ooner to you: and having no vi&s;ible &s;teel weapons (being a &s;pirit) you &s;eek to kill me with invi&s;ible armes of griefe? Is &s;uch a cruelty conformable to a ble&s;&s;ed &s;oul? I will with good will die, but I be&s;eech you let it not be, to live afterwards eternally in &s;uch jars. <HI>Liarta</HI> &s;topped there, de&s;iring not to proceed any further, and clear|ing up her countenance as appea&s;ed, &s;he an&s;wered him, No my belo|ved e&s;pou&s;e, none of the&s;e things &s;hall be, Heaven is no place for ran|cours, and mine though they &s;eem to be &s;uch, are not &s;o: neither am I cruell to you, nor you to me, nor will I have you die: Not die, &s;aid <HI>Almadero?</HI> it is impo&s;&s;ible: for if living be forbidden me by your not living, you being dead, it mu&s;t of nece&s;&s;ity be lawfull for me to die. And though you by repenting alter your re&s;olution, yet will not I re|fu&s;e the purcha&s;ing of an everla&s;ting plea&s;ant life, by means of mo|mentary de&s;picable death. <HI>Liarta</HI> was come to the &s;ame pa&s;&s;e as tho&s;e Architects are, who having laid the foundation of a great Vault, meet in the practi&s;e of the clo&s;ing it up, with &s;uch difficulties as the &s;pecu|lative theorick had not before put into their mind. She knew not how to conclude her di&s;cour&s;es with <HI>Almadero:</HI> who though he was of a mild humour, yet was no way inclining to folly or &s;implicity&punc; He would
<PB N="104" REF="56">not yet have &s;uffered him&s;elf to have been wrought to &s;o much cre|dulity, if his dreams had not altered his under&s;tanding. She would have made him believe, that &s;he might live again, that her carca&s;e had been pre&s;erved in certain Mountains under the equinoctiall, in &s;o proportionable a &s;cituation, that neither the repercu&s;&s;ion of the Solar beams from the earth, nor the coldne&s;&s;e of the air could corrupt her. That the temperament alone had maintained it in the being in which it was at that time, having obtained means to revive it with the &s;ame &s;oul, which was the year before departed out of it.</P>
<P>But having lo&s;t her &s;elf in the&s;e Fables, <HI>Almadero's</HI> under&s;tanding was cleared, and he plainly perceived this to be his true corporeall <HI>Liarta:</HI> though not in that manner as &s;he de&s;cribed it. Wherefore hearkning to her a little while (for long it was impo&s;&s;ible) and help|ing her in relation, in that wherein lyars are commonly failing, ob|jecting the frequent contradictions to her which oftentimes met in &s;o many lies, &s;he was at la&s;t forced to di&s;clo&s;e her &s;elf, and &s;uddenly ca&s;ting her armes about his neck, &s;hedding tears of tenderne&s;&s;e, &s;he &s;aid unto him, Behold here I am (my Lord) alive, &s;ince you will not believe me dead. And if heretofore I could not die, being depri|ved of you, and daily wounded by hard oppo&s;itions of adver&s;e for|tune; much le&s;&s;e &s;hall I die now, being vivified by your happy pre|&s;ence, and the &s;pirits of that true love, which heretofore reputed in|con&s;tant, proves now beyond all expectation mo&s;t firm and loyall. <HI>Almadero</HI> (as I &s;aid before) did conceive <HI>Liarta</HI> to be alive; and if he could have penetrated into the manner how that came to pa&s;&s;e, it had not lain in his power to have retained the lea&s;t &s;cruple of his former fal&s;e impre&s;&s;ion: but now perceiving the bu&s;ine&s;s plainly (as if he had been in an in&s;tant rai&s;ed from the dead) enterchangeably em|bracing her, Do you then (&s;aid he) &s;o cruelly purpo&s;e to revenge your wrongs my deare&s;t Lady? Is that true which you tell me, or do you yet in pa&s;time equivocate? are you my true <HI>Liarta</HI> or not? But &s;he giving him no an&s;wer, onely bedewing him with tears, and &s;mo|thering him with ki&s;&s;es, went on and &s;aid, Let the&s;e armes kill me, and this &s;oul vivifie me, if thou yet breathe&s;t, O thou long lamented love, Ki&s;&s;e and kill, ki&s;&s;e and revive, for both are indifferently plea|&s;ing: either to live or die. <HI>Radimiro</HI> and <HI>Dorilla</HI> &s;tood all the while within the hou&s;e, where they might ea&s;ily behold the actions, and hear the di&s;cour&s;es of the two lovers, prepared to come forth according as they had agreed. Now they thought their Mi&s;tri&s;&s;e having di&s;clo|&s;ed her &s;elf, it was no longer time to delay: Wherefore pre&s;enting them&s;elves before the King, their unexpected &s;ight was the demon|&s;trative argument of the truth: the cleerne&s;&s;e whereof had till that time been &s;haddowed by the darkne&s;&s;e of &s;o many confu&s;ions. The King pre&s;ently left <HI>Liarta</HI> laying a&s;ide all maje&s;tick &s;tateline&s;&s;e em|braced their both, ki&s;&s;ing <HI>Dorilla. Fhilarchus</HI> &s;eeing the appearance of the&s;e two new per&s;ons, feared no &s;pirits, but leaping into the Church|yard, ran to ki&s;&s;e the King and Queens hand. The Prie&s;t came out on the other &s;ide. The King would have been re&s;olved at the &s;ame time,
<PB N="105" REF="56">and in the &s;ame place how all tho&s;e things had come about, but be|ing advi&s;ed by <HI>Philarchus,</HI> he deferred it till more conveniency. <HI>Liar|ta</HI> admitting every one to ki&s;&s;e her hand: <HI>Leuciana</HI> &s;eemed to be all on fire, &s;o many bonfires were kindled; &s;ome for joy &s;pared not their own bed&s;teads. To relate what they &s;aid to one another after they were come home, is a &s;ubject fitter for a di&s;creet imagination, then for a pen. Let us then leave them, and return to the City whither <HI>Lao|domia</HI> calls us.</P>
<P>This good Lady, endeavoured whil&s;t the Prince of <HI>Feacia</HI> lived, a a weak &s;ick and decrepit husband, to pa&s;&s;e away her time the be&s;t &s;he could: Re&s;toring the infection her own youth received, by her hu&s;|bands decrepitne&s;&s;e, with the help of per&s;ons of younger age, incli|ned to any man but to her own lawfull &s;pou&s;e. Tho&s;e as related the Hi&s;tory of her actions, de&s;cribed her to be framed of repugnant affections. La&s;civious, and di&s;inamoured, malicious, and fooli&s;h, un|boundedly impudent, yet &s;ubject to blu&s;hing. She tried people of all degrees and conditions for her lu&s;t, driven thereunto by her hot inclination. For &s;he could not meet with per&s;ons of her own quality in <HI>Feacia</HI> nor <HI>Ericu&s;a,</HI> unle&s;&s;e it were by chance of pa&s;&s;age. The evill would not have been a&s;cribed to her for &s;o great a fault, if her allure|ments u&s;ed for the &s;atisfying of her de&s;ires had been no other, but grace, noblene&s;&s;e and merit. The two which were by her worthily beloved we already know. The one <HI>Feredo,</HI> by her not enjoyed. The other <HI>Almadero</HI> who became her husband. There were two more, and be&s;ides them there was not any one of quality that po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ed her beauty. There lieth over again&s;t the Iland of <HI>Feacia, Epirus</HI> a warlike Kingdom, po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ed by a warlike King, the Father of many children: among&s;t which it happened that <HI>Raico</HI> the &s;econd being gone to in|vite the Prince to his wedding, as being his near Kin&s;man (for <HI>Feacia</HI> was a member of the Kingdom of <HI>Epirus</HI> given in portion to a &s;econd brother, Father to this Prince) fell in love with <HI>Laodomia,</HI> in &s;uch &s;ort, that being young and very re&s;pectfull, he fell &s;ick upon it; and cured by his ho&s;te&s;&s;es piety, &s;he being a very clear-&s;ighted Phy&s;ician, and learned in the cure of love-di&s;ea&s;es. But their delights being in|terrupted by his Fathers commands, which recalled him home, this affection remained &s;o deeply rooted in his mind, that he thought (as &s;econd brother) hearing of the Princes death, to demand to be in ve&s;ted Prince of the Iland, and e&s;pou&s;e <HI>Laodomia,</HI> before he knew another had gotten her from him. But when he heard it, he was &s;o enraged at it, that he was once re&s;olved to have taken her away; rapes being very cu&s;tomary in the Ea&s;tern Countries; if the King having had notice thereof, had not cau&s;ed him to be &s;tayed till &s;he was gone. By which di&s;creet advi&s;ement he being cro&s;&s;ed in the performance of that, which he mu&s;t unadvi&s;edly and ra&s;hly had re&s;olved to do, ha|ving obtained his liberty again, he ravingly re&s;olved upon another de&s;perate cour&s;e. To go into <HI>Lu&s;itania</HI> there to &s;ee her, and take her away from thence: his ra&s;h youthfulne&s;&s;e, repre&s;enting his own me|rits to him&s;elf to be greater then <HI>Almadero's:</HI> not con&s;idering that vo|luptuous
<PB N="106" REF="57">love terminates in the act of terminate plea&s;ure, e&s;pecially in women, and chiefe&s;t of all in &s;uch a woman as <HI>Laodomia;</HI> yet this his de&s;ign contrary to all the&s;e rea&s;ons came to a good i&s;&s;ue, though by another way which he little dreamed of. For taking a faithful Squire along with him, he went away &s;ecretly, without acquainting his Fa|ther or any one el&s;e whither he went; and arrived into <HI>Lu&s;itania</HI> a lit|tle after <HI>Almadero</HI> was come there, before ever his fre&s;h pa&s;&s;ions for <HI>Liarta</HI> began to revive in him. So that &s;eeing <HI>Laodomia</HI> &s;eated happily in her Royalty, he was put quite out of all hopes. She being forced to apply &amp; incline her &s;elf, (if one may &s;o &s;peak of her) to the be&s;t and comlie&s;t Prince on earth. Wherefore it &s;eeming a folle to him to a|&s;pire thereunto, altering his mind, if not his love; he re&s;olved to &s;tay in <HI>Lu&s;itania,</HI> to feed his eyes, though he could not &s;atisfie his other &s;en|ces. And judging that if he had frequented the Court in a Cavaleers habit, he &s;hould quickly be forced to leave it, being di&s;covered by one or other, here&s;olved to cloth him&s;elfe like a Hermit, and having &s;etled a habitation, to forget both Father, Country, and him&s;elf. Con&s;idering therefore the Scituations thereabouts, he re&s;olved upon a place &s;tanding along by the River <HI>Tagus,</HI> near <HI>Lancobridge,</HI> a Royall habitation, which at that time <HI>Almadero</HI> had newly be&s;tow|ed upon <HI>Laodomia.</HI> And having bought the ground, he cau&s;ed a place of devotion to be built there, with Cells, &s;prings and a garden, all with &s;uch &s;ymmetry and proportion, that devout per&s;ons flocking thither, left behind them, without asking many almes, thinking the Hermit had built this &s;umptuous fabrick by the help of &s;uch pious contributions: which almes therefore he was (though unwilling) con&s;trained to take, the better to colour the pre&s;ent profe&s;&s;ion he made &s;hew of. <HI>Va&s;&s;ilius</HI> (for &s;o was the &s;quire called) retained his for|mer habit, that he might the better without any &s;candall prie into the Queens actions, and ob&s;erve her when &s;he went abroad to her de|votions: whither <HI>Raico</HI> al&s;o went: this manner of life no way di&s;plea|&s;ing to him: for endeavouring to plea&s;e his Ma&s;ters will, he unex|pectedly met with a kind of affection, which inclined him to &s;oli|tude, falling in love with gardening, wherein he took &s;uch delight, that wheras before he learned it as an art, it now proved a plea&s;ure to him, being &s;o taken with it, that whereas <HI>Raico</HI> thought on nothing but love, he doated on nothing but his flowers, placing them in &s;uch manner, that they were all ordered according to their nature, in &s;hade or &s;un&s;hine, as each one mo&s;t delighted. But who would ever have believed that an amorous hypocri&s;ie, &s;hould be reduced to an act of a formall devotion, as it was almo&s;t in the per&s;on of this Prince? I &s;aid almo&s;t, becau&s;e if imagination in a ambitious man, hath power to make him believe tho&s;e honours to be true which he doth but dream of much more may it in a melancholy man make that &s;eem devoti|on, which cannot be &s;uch. <HI>Raico</HI> was &s;o ingulphed in the difficulty of his enterpri&s;e, that finding no way how to bring it to pa&s;&s;e, he thought to give it over. He imagined (and that not ami&s;&s;e) that the Gods had brought him there to &s;ave him. He tried to ab&s;tain from
<PB N="107" REF="57">&s;eeing of <HI>Laodomia,</HI> but could not, which was the touch&s;tone to trie the mettal of this his &s;pirit; yet he thought otherwi&s;e of him&s;elf, &s;o much can &s;elf-love prevail in us. He was not a&s;hamed in the Thea|ter of his own con&s;cience to flatter him&s;elfe, and in good earne&s;t to believe him&s;elf to be grown &s;pirituall. To draw out a reall &s;ence with pencills of &s;eemingne&s;&s;e, giving it lights and &s;hadows, not with plain naturall colours, but with a mixture of troubled pa&s;&s;ions: &s;o that to one who did not well heed him, he &s;eemed to breath nothing but heavenly affections, and heavenly they were, but of that heaven where <HI>Venus</HI> pre&s;ided. The report was &s;pread about of the Hermits ho|line&s;&s;e, and bruited at the Court, his age making him more recom|mendable to the Ladies then to the Knights, and many perceiving in him, be&s;ides youth, a kind of manly beauty, were pricked by &s;ome &s;pirit more then that of devotion. <HI>Laodomia</HI> heard the report of it, but heeded it not, her contents in a &s;umptuous and well-frequented Court, being incapable of &s;uch thoughts: But being fallen into di&s;|gu&s;ts, ordinary provocations to rai&s;e us from the earrth, &s;he thought upon the vi&s;iting of this famous and &s;o much &s;poken of fabrick: &s;he delayed it not, &s;o &s;oon as &s;he came to <HI>Lancobridge.</HI> The change of pla|ces, and the variety of objects, having power, if not to take away, at the lea&s;t to ea&s;e oppre&s;&s;ed hearts. <HI>Raico</HI> had already heard the com|mon report of <HI>Liarta's</HI> being alive, of the Kings pa&s;&s;ions, of <HI>Laodomias</HI> di&s;gu&s;ts, which like to &s;o many thornes, did rend in peeces his ill ap|plied Garment of <HI>Devotion:</HI> He was partly a&s;hamed of it him&s;elf, that &s;hame proceeding from <HI>Va&s;&s;ilius</HI> di&s;creet reproofs &s;ometimes u&s;ed to him. But every one, when once he begins to deceive him&s;elf, delights in it: Wherefore having ca&s;t him&s;elf upon the&s;e new hopes, he re|tained no hypocri&s;ie but th'external to deceive others; to ob&s;erve how things went, and expect till time and fortune &s;hould open him a way to carry forward his de&s;igns. He took all occa&s;ions that were proffered him to bring him to the &s;ight of her: But <HI>Alma|dero</HI> living in <HI>Oli&s;ippo,</HI> he could never come to be &s;een of her, he inwardly &s;uffered for the griefs which &s;he endured: neither could he hear any better news, then of <HI>Almadero's</HI> going to <HI>Leuciana,</HI> re&s;ol|ving to make him&s;elf known unto her, and provide for both their occa&s;ions. But when he heard &s;he was coming to dwell near him, he doubted not but happily to convert into good, that evill which he before reputed he had unhappily undertaken; &s;he now kept no other company but Prie&s;ts, held no di&s;cour&s;e but of the vanities of the world, of which &s;he held the greate&s;t to tru&s;t men, and e&s;peci|ally if they were Princes; &s;he had re&s;olved, being angry with the King, to deny him the fellow&s;hip of her bed, which he without any cau&s;e, had for &s;o many months exiled her from, to give her &s;elfe wholly to a &s;piritual life, bing di&s;ta&s;ted of a &s;en&s;uall one, being ar|rived to the height of all her delights; then having heard a report of the Hermit, &s;he re&s;olved to &s;ee him: She went di&s;gui&s;ed in a private brown habit, with a vail over her face: <HI>Raico,</HI> who &s;tood in a place where &s;een by no man, he could &s;ee every one that came into the Temples
<PB N="108" REF="58">did not know her: But took her for &s;ome Lady of the Court, who to follow the Queens humour, did affect grief and devotion, with feigned o&s;tentations. Finding the Temple extraordinarily well kept, &s;he was exceedingly &s;atisfied with it, but examining the particulars, &s;he wondred to &s;ee the Gods habited, after the Ea&s;tern fa&s;hion, TO THE TUTELAR OF LEUCADIA, was the in&s;cription under <HI>Apollo's</HI> image, which <HI>Leucadia</HI> was her own Patrimony, and this God was adored in that I&s;land, in a mo&s;t famous Temple dedica|ted to him, TO THE TUTELAR OF EPIRUS, was written under <HI>Pallas,</HI> who&s;e image well con&s;idered, might by every one be imagined to be made under the likene&s;&s;e of <HI>Laodomia</HI> her &s;elf, there were they therein deceived, for <HI>Raico</HI> had cau&s;ed it to be &s;o car|ved at great charge, by a prime workman in <HI>Lu&s;itania.</HI> Wherefore no &s;mall curio&s;ity being rai&s;ed within her, &s;he cau&s;ed the Prie&s;t to be called to her, who by her voice, knowing who it was that called for him, was &s;o amazed, that he knew not how to &s;tir. <HI>Va&s;&s;ilius</HI> did run to do his me&s;&s;age, but being con&s;trained to give him time, he was fain to an&s;wer, that he would come &s;o &s;oon as he had ended &s;ome few prayers. Which delay being but impatiently taken, made her againe look towards her own image, and finding therein her &s;elf naturally repre&s;ented, con&s;idering the Gods clothing in her own Country ha|bits, and the names of <HI>Leucadia</HI> and <HI>Epirus,</HI> &s;he knew not what to judge of it, and ob&s;erving in <HI>Pallas</HI> hand a wreath very richly wrought with Needle-work with the two Letters <HI>L.</HI> and <HI>R.</HI> Capitall ones for <HI>Lao|domia</HI> and <HI>Raico,</HI> which wreath &s;he had formerly wrought with her own hand, and given him in tho&s;e days when &s;he enjoyed him; &s;he conceived pre&s;ently how the truth of the bu&s;ine&s;&s;e &s;tood, and fixing her eyes upon <HI>Va&s;&s;ilius,</HI> &s;he pre&s;ently, &s;o &s;oon as &s;he had but recollect|ed her &s;en&s;es remembred him. The Hermit came, &s;he knew him, her memory calling to mind, the &s;weet plea&s;ures &s;he had enjoyed with him; his Beard and habit able to change his hair, but not his vi&s;age. He had hardly lei&s;ure to recollect his &s;pirits, while&s;t &s;he kneeled the other way, not without &s;candal (as every one may piou&s;ly gather) of the a&s;&s;i&s;tant invi&s;ible &s;pirits, the divinity in outward &s;hew religi|ou&s;ly venerated in Temples, and inwardly mo&s;t impiou&s;ly propha|ned in the hearts. After he was ri&s;en, he feigned that he had not known her: he could hardly hypocritically joyn three or four &s;tam|mering words together, enterlacing between them the names of <HI>Apol|l</HI> and <HI>Minerva.</HI> The Queen was moved at the &s;ound of that voice: her Phanta&s;ie was &s;uddainly po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ed with &s;uch thoughts, as enter into womens minds, who thinking them&s;elves abu&s;ed by their Hus|bands, breath nothing but revenge again&s;t them. She would, to avoid the danger, make him believe &s;he had not known him, and repented her &s;elf that &s;he had &s;ent for him: wherefore &s;he went away &s;aying no more, but that being per&s;ecuted by adver&s;e fortune, &s;he recommend|ed her &s;elf to his prayers. The other Ladies wondered at it, &s;uch a ho|line&s;&s;e worthy of being expre&s;&s;ed more frequently. This &s;uddain de|parture di&s;plea&s;ed <HI>Raico,</HI> and if he had believed he had been known,
<PB N="109" REF="58">he would have run mad with it. He had &s;een her contemplate her &s;elf in <HI>Pallas:</HI> he could not believe &s;he had &s;o &s;oon forgotten the wreath which &s;he had wrought with her own hand, and &s;een in the God|de&s;&s;es, to go away without curio&s;ity of knowing how he had light|ed upon it, or asking the cau&s;e why he was &s;o much devoted towards the Tutelars of <HI>Epilus</HI> and <HI>Leucadia.</HI> It &s;eemed &s;trange to him, he having a purpo&s;e gotten them carved after that &s;imilitude: The eb|bing and flowing of judgements, la&s;ted on both &s;ides, till the news of <HI>Liarta's</HI> return being certainly known, all di&s;&s;imulation was bani|&s;hed; <HI>Raico</HI> was known, and the unknown Hermit under his ragged Cloak perceived: Rage and Di&s;dain did &s;o oppre&s;&s;e the Queen, at the fir&s;t news &s;he heard thereof, that her under&s;tanding was total|ly di&s;turbed and troubled. But the fir&s;t tempe&s;t being appea&s;ed, &s;he judged &s;he could build her de&s;igns upon no man &s;o fittingly, as up|on him: She went to him to his Cell, having no body in her compa|ny but two Grecian Maids, her e&s;peciall favourites. She de&s;ired to &s;peak to him within his hou&s;e, without any a&s;&s;i&s;tants: the Temple a place of holine&s;&s;e wholly oppo&s;ite to rage and fury: <HI>Raico</HI> wondred to &s;ee her before him, without any mask or vail; but &s;he lo&s;ing no time, in her wrath laying all cunning a&s;ide, &s;aid unto him, Prince <HI>Raico,</HI> I cannot believe you are come hither into this Country in habit and profe&s;&s;ion, &s;o different from your own, unle&s;&s;e it be for love of me; Seeing divine love, which your external port pretends, ought to per&s;wade you to any other habitation then that where I dwell, how&s;oever I will know the truth of it: wipe off the&s;e tears then, only due to me. The Knight was fallen on his knees before her, with his eyes as abounding with tears, as his mouth was void of words: He wiped them to obey her, he aro&s;e, and &s;mothering his ri&s;ing affections, anfwered her, Madam, That &s;ad coloured habit, which I was re&s;olved, being deprived of you, to wear perpetually el&s;e|where, was changed into this a&s;h-coloured one, for an evident &s;ym|bole of the hidden burning of my heart. I came into <HI>Lu&s;itania,</HI> I blame my &s;elf for it, not to &s;erve God, but to do him di&s;&s;ervice: Your love not his, was the Quarter-ma&s;ter which appointed me out this lodging: I have plainly told you the truth to obey you; let the love of you be a &s;ufficient excu&s;e, for my being maliciou&s;ly become an hypoctite &s;o to do: The evill (replyed <HI>Laodomia</HI>) which hath good &s;ucce&s;&s;es, de&s;erves to alter its name, but the love of a true af|fection, can fal&s;ely cau&s;e bad effects: In love all things are becom|ing, to govern ones &s;elf evill for his &s;ake, is but to be ruled by rea&s;on, he being the compendium and Epitome of all rea&s;on that can be found in nature: and if you have offended other Gods, who have at other times been &s;ubject to his Darts, you need not much to care, he having power to re&s;tore unto you without their help, that which you mo&s;t de&s;ire. And &s;aying thus, laying her hand upon her brea&s;t, as pointing to her &s;elf, &s;he went on &s;aying: behold, here he be&s;towes me upon you, if for my love you came into <HI>Lu&s;itania.</HI> Now &s;hall I &s;ee whether your judgement be conformable to that of <HI>Paris;</HI> chu&s;ing
<PB N="110" REF="59"><HI>Venus,</HI> and for her &s;ake neglecting <HI>Juno</HI> and <HI>Pallas. Raico</HI> &s;taied for no more words. The embracing and doing homage to her, if it were not both at once, yet were they &s;ucce&s;&s;ive things. And though the action was &s;omewhat voluptuous, yet was it not quite void of fal&s;e devotion: &s;eeing the rigidne&s;&s;e and hardne&s;&s;e of the pre&s;&s;ed bed (no mark of the lovers compunction gave him &s;o) gave him &s;ome colour of framing &s;uch a thing to him&s;elf. After &s;he had been thus humbled, you would have taken her to be &s;ome Generall, that remained Con|queror after he had given battail. She thought &s;he had &s;ufficiently paid <HI>Almadero,</HI> making his head to &s;well. But after (with re&s;ting their bodies a while) they had &s;omewhat refre&s;hed their &s;pirits, &s;he brake out into &s;uch like &s;peeches. Prince <HI>Raico,</HI> never did man oblige wo|man as you with comming into this Country have obliged me, and if by my comming I di&s;obliged you, con&s;ider that I came hither a Queen, your love being unju&s;tly taken away from me, and unduely be&s;towed upon the Prince&s;&s;e of <HI>Acarnania. Raico</HI> would not have let her go for|ward, but would have made known his fidelity unto her; but &s;he who to prevent the objections which might have been made again&s;t her for incon&s;tancy, had framed this tale, following her di&s;cour&s;e &s;aid. Di&s;dains <HI>(Raico)</HI> are &s;uce&s;&s;ive to loves, and the&s;e the purer they be the more &s;ubject they are to &s;tains of &s;u&s;pects and jealou&s;ies: My lot would have me to believe what was told me, and upon this &s;uppo&s;ition, reputing my &s;elf abandoned, I ca&s;t my &s;elf down the precipice of this unlucky marriage. I came into <HI>Lu&s;itania,</HI> I would I had never come: and I would you had been more careful in giving me notice that I &s;hould find my &s;elf free from an evil which cannot chu&s;e but wound me beyond all mea&s;ure; But wounds have their pla&s;ters.</P>
<P>The King as you know hath di&s;covered his fir&s;t wife to be alive. What wife &s;aid <HI>Raico?</HI> his wife which had been buried an&s;wered &s;he. He knew the Hi&s;tory of it but not the &s;ucce&s;&s;e: you may well ima|gine whither he was well content therewith or no; But &s;eeming to him, that &s;he loving him, he needed not to care for it, he was troubled di&s;covering the contrary; But what marvail was it, if that which he &s;uppo&s;ed was fal&s;e? love being as ea&s;ie to be per&s;waded in its own na|ture, as they by their nature are inexorable in their hatreds and reven|ges. The deceived Prince did not penetrate into the &s;ecret malices of that deceitfull woman, his object being that love which held to be reciprocall was not &s;o; Wherefore wheeling about diver&s;e things in her mind, &s;he found no other remedy but this one, to return without delay into the <HI>Ea&s;t:</HI> whereupon holding &s;ilence a great while, as though &s;he had not liked it; And how &s;hall I go (at la&s;t &s;aid &s;he) in|jured and unrevenged? But <HI>Raico</HI> not apprehending any injury, and con&s;equently no cau&s;e of revenge, the bu&s;ine&s;&s;e having happened without any deceipt; having been well u&s;ed, honored and re&s;pected; She was forced at la&s;t to lay open her cruell intentions, by vomiting out of the&s;e words My condition <HI>(Raico)</HI> is &s;uch, that I can find now no place to receive me among&s;t mine equalls. Who will e&s;teem mee brought into <HI>Lu&s;itania</HI> under title of Queen, &s;eeing me driven out
<PB N="111" REF="59">thence with &s;o much contempt? who wil believe the death and burial of <HI>Liarta,</HI> and give credit to her life and return? But &s;ay they &s;hould believe it. Truth and fal&s;hood in my ca&s;e are equally &s;hamefull? to have been as it were upon a &s;tage acting the per&s;onage of a Queen, and as a Concubine to be &s;ent home with di&s;grace, my temples envi|roned with &s;cornes in&s;tead of Crowns: No, by God <HI>Mars,</HI> I will not unrevenged, I will not (in de&s;pight of all the a&s;pects of the Heavens) have a mind &s;o ba&s;e as to let my patience augment mine injury. <HI>Al|madero</HI> &s;hall die, I will make him an example to others, to know that my equalls ought to be free not onely from affronts, but even from the lea&s;t di&s;gu&s;ts. <HI>Raico</HI> felt him&s;elf as it were thunder&s;trook with the &s;ound of the&s;e words, conceiving the womans intents. He was a&s;ha|med, would not believe her, and remitted his judgment to a more open declaration: which was not long before it was made, it being declared by her &s;he would have <HI>Almadero</HI> die, and him to be the mur|therer. Oh how his affections were changed! Her beauties which he before &s;o highly e&s;teemed, were by him accompted but meer illu&s;i|on, her face &s;hewed like a piece of painting. Oh how he blu&s;hed, how in at winkling of an eye did he &s;ee more then ever he did before. He found him&s;elf in an in&s;tant cleared from all trapps and &s;nares, free from errors, and totally re&s;tored to his former judgement, and the further he receded from all blameable thoughts, the more he inclined to good ones, di&s;cretion only a&s;&s;i&s;ting him in this extream encounter. He had much adoe to frame him&s;elf, not to a refu&s;all (for of his own nature he could not approve of &s;uch an abominable thing) but even to the hearkning to &s;o horrid a reque&s;t. He thought to per&s;wade her to alter her de&s;ign, by &s;hewing her the abomination of the act. But a tran&s;cendent wickedne&s;&s;e never attains to its pretended end till it comes to that height, that no puni&s;hment can be invented to equall it. It was in vain for <HI>Raico,</HI> and impo&s;&s;ible to find out any rea&s;ons to remove <HI>Laodomia</HI> from this re&s;olution. For in the lo&s;&s;e of his affecti|on he had lo&s;t the authority of a lover, as well as he had before in his di&s;hone&s;t acts lo&s;t that of Hermit. At la&s;t he &s;aid, Madam, I was born a Prince, and you the like: you require a thing of me too un|worthy either of us. The King hath not offended you, and I do not &s;ee, how as a Knight I can pretend to exact any revenge of him. To murther him ba&s;ely, as you would have me, I will not, may the Earth open and &s;wallow me fir&s;t. But if I &s;hould be &s;o ba&s;ely cow|ardly, how will you &s;ave your &s;elf? care not for me, we will remit the que&s;tioning of that to another time. The que&s;tion now is onely, whe|ther Heaven would be &s;atisfied with my &s;hame and dammage onely. No &s;ure, Heaven &s;hould erre in its providence if it did &s;uffer it. I will if you plea&s;e conduct you into <HI>Leucadia</HI> pre&s;ently, if you cannot en|dure the &s;ight of <HI>Almadero</HI> or <HI>Liarta:</HI> and if this will not &s;atisfie you, a&s;&s;ure your &s;elf love never obliged a Knight to any villanous act. She with an inflamed and and angry vi&s;age an&s;wered, You a Prince? you a Knight? Nature &s;ure erred when &s;he made you &s;uch. Cowardly, ba&s;e, and ingrateful as you are. The&s;e abject habits you now wear are
<PB N="112" REF="60">fitte&s;t for you, not to repre&s;ent that devotion, which (being feign|ed) doth but deceive the world: but your ba&s;ene&s;&s;e, which (being true) doth undeceive me. If ever you dare to gird on &s;word I will cau&s;e it to be taken off again with &s;uch &s;hame and dammage, as &s;hall be mo&s;t fitting for you. I am &s;orry I have made proud with my fa|vours &s;o unworthy an one. I will do pennance for it, I will forget it, and think the wor&s;e of my &s;elf for thy &s;ake, whom I e&s;teem the ba&s;e&s;t wretch on Earth. And thus without expecting any reply, driven by the fury of her perver&s;e thoughts, &s;he went away drawing the door after her becau&s;e &s;he would not be followed. The dam&s;els &s;eeing her pa&s;t all bounds of melancholy, entred into a meer fury, knew not what to think of it. She was all that day &amp; the night following without re&s;t, or food: continually revolving in her mind a thou&s;and pernicious re&s;olutions: She would have put them all in practi&s;e if &s;he had been as &s;ure of the events, as &s;he was of the malignity of her own will. She knew not to whom to addre&s;&s;e her &s;elf, to kill <HI>Almadero,</HI> &s;he was now re&s;olved <HI>Raico</HI> &s;hould die. She held her &s;elf deceived, injuried and vi|lipended by him. She could find no rea&s;on &s;ufficient to &s;tay her. No rea&s;on dur&s;t pre&s;ent it &s;elf unto hers, &s;he was &s;o full of infernall vio|lence, having voted her &s;elf to hell; &s;he &s;ent at length for <HI>Dragante:</HI> this was not onely a &s;ervant of her, but al&s;o a born &s;ubject in <HI>Leuca|dia,</HI> bred up amid&s;t &s;trife, and treacheries, and had been a plea&s;ing in|&s;trument to appea&s;e her angry mind cau&s;ele&s;&s;ely moved, by the dam|mage or murthering of many innocents. Go (&s;aid &s;he) to the Her|mitage here by, and find out the Hermit and let him die: and while thou kill&s;t him, let him know I &s;ent thee. Thus mu&s;t la&s;civious di&s;&s;embling Hypocrites be puni&s;hed. I went to receive comfort from the villain, e&s;teeming him to be an holy devout man, and he dur&s;t reque&s;t that of me which is lawfull for none but husbands to do. Go and bring me newes pre&s;ently that it is done; for you do know I am a gratefull Lady and Mi&s;tre&s;&s;e to you. He needed not a more authen|tick mandate. It is a &s;weet thing to a cruell man to bath him&s;elf in blood without any danger. He thought he &s;hould find no danger in murthering a peaceable man (for &s;o he thought him) &s;uddenly. And he feared no danger of puni&s;hment being commanded by the Queen, the command being ju&s;t, and the cau&s;e hone&s;t. But traitors likely, be|ing cowards, he would not go alone. He thought that a&s;&s;aulting a a man, who was e&s;teemed good by the world, he might find &s;ome op|po&s;ition; wherefore taking &s;ome along with him, whom &s;he had with her own mouth commanded, he went pre&s;ently to the Hermitage, and telling him what the Queen had enjoyned him, he de&s;ired them to let him alone with the Hermit, and they (in ca&s;e any peo|ple &s;hould come in) &s;hould onely &s;uppre&s;&s;e the tumult. No man con|tradicted him, the evill which was to be committed thought too me|ritorious. <HI>Raico</HI> in the mean time, being remained free from all tho&s;e pa&s;&s;ions, which before had blinded his under&s;tanding, thought that &s;taying longer in <HI>L&s;itania</HI> might hurt him. <HI>Laodomia's</HI> conditions be|ing &s;uch, that one might thence expect nothing but &s;candalls. Having
<PB N="113" REF="60">told <HI>Va&s;silius</HI> what was befallen him now la&s;t, as he alwaies imparted all his other &s;ecrets to him. He commanded him to provide him with two Hor&s;es to be gone pre&s;ently, a re&s;olution which the good Squire had long looked for; who being gone out for that purpo&s;e, could not come home till late at night, at which time he had provided two &s;tout ones. <HI>Raico</HI> had kept his Armes all this while in a pre&s;s, and having re|newed them, expected day, the time &s;eeming long to him, till he could for&s;ake his pretences, and together with the Country, the habit wherein he had till that time corruptly lived. But the difficulties which u&s;ually happen upon &s;uchunexpected voyages did hinder him, being forced to furni&s;h him&s;elf with many things, and <HI>Va&s;silius</HI> not returning till noon. Being come, and having &s;et the Hor&s;es in a Court neer that place, he began to arme him, and having put on his Cor&s;e|let, going to put on his &mdash; &s;ome body knocked at the door: And be|ing that time at which devout per&s;ons did u&s;e to &s;end them refre&s;h|ment: it being fitting to open doors, he put on his Hermits Gown over his Cor&s;let, and while&s;t <HI>Va&s;silius</HI> laid up the &mdash; he opened the door him&s;elf, never asking who it was that knocked. <HI>Dragante</HI> &s;eeing there was no body in the Church, drew his dagger, (telling him, the Queen chati&s;ted him for his ra&s;hne&s;&s;e, by that &s;tab &s;he &s;ent him) &s;tab|bed at him with &s;uch force, that he had like to have fallen backward, &s;o that his Cor&s;let &s;aved his life. <HI>Dragante</HI> thought he had &s;trook again&s;t hard Marble, and not knowing the rea&s;on of it, &s;uper&s;tition did &s;o daunt him, that <HI>Raico</HI> had time to recover, and going to clo&s;e with him to take his dagger from him, the other di&s;covering his armour, and finding that it was not by miracle (as he believed) that he had not wounded him, he run him through the arme with a &s;econd &s;tab, and lowring his dagger to thru&s;t it into his unarmed &s;ide, <HI>Raico</HI> threw him down under him, holding his dagger hand fa&s;t <HI>Va&s;silius</HI> had up|on the fir&s;t &s;tab opened the pre&s;&s;e again, and having taken out thence &s;word and buckler, was ha&s;tning to kill the villain, but his companions drawing their &s;words, con&s;trained him to turn towards them. <HI>Raico</HI> in the mean time, having with little labour taken away his Enemies dagger thru&s;t it in his throat, and &s;eeing he dyed not with that, made an end of him, thru&s;ting it up to the hilts into his heart, and taking his &s;word, he went out to aid <HI>Va&s;silius.</HI> The <HI>Epirotes</HI> are ordinarily warlike people, and <HI>Raico,</HI> who was very valorous, had in an in&s;tant with ea&s;e, di&s;patched two of the four which a&s;&s;aulted them, and had done the like with the other two, if the gli&s;tering of the &s;words had not given warning to tho&s;e who were within &s;ight of the place, who running thither, wondring to find the Hermit with a &s;word in his hand, and three dead bodies at his feet. They would at fir&s;t have parted the fray, but being accu&s;ed for having la&s;civiou&s;ly &s;olicited the Queen, they were in &s;uch manner &s;can|dalized at the matter, that they all fell upon him, and he was for|ced after he had long re&s;i&s;ted to yeeld him&s;elf to the turbelant mul|titude which threw &s;tones at him every way; and being grown to a great number, over-pre&s;&s;ed him: there being added to his unknown
<PB N="114" REF="61">fact, this la&s;t apparent one, of having &s;lain &s;o many men. The inno|cent Hermitage was &s;trictly &s;earched, and there being armes, hor&s;es, jewels, and no &s;mall &s;tore of money found there; how could one judge well of him, being clothed with &s;uch a habit? <HI>Va&s;&s;i&s;ius</HI> grived extreamly to &s;ee him in &s;uch a ca&s;e, bleeding on every &s;ide, e&s;pe|cially about the head, which he was partly cau&s;e of him&s;elf, having refu&s;ed a buckler which he had &s;everall times proffered him. He had a long time defended him with it from many blows: But to &s;afeguard him from the tempe&s;t of &s;tones which &s;howred on him every way, would have required a va&s;ter largene&s;&s;e. He could not endure to &s;ee him tyed, he would have told who he was; but <HI>Raico</HI> would not &s;uf|fer it, but impo&s;ed him &s;ilence. There came already to the &s;hore of the River <HI>Tagus,</HI> many little Boats and Pa&s;&s;engers which went and came from <HI>Oli&s;ippus,</HI> who for&s;aking the high-way which was nor far di|&s;tant from thence, came to the tumult, and among them were many Knights, to whom the Hermits fault &s;eemed unlikely to be true: For if it were &s;o, why &s;hould they &s;eek to take away his life by the hands of five murtherers, while&s;t they might without any &s;uch &s;candalous means, be puni&s;hed by way of ju&s;tice. Silence had force in him, ra|ther to confirm, then confute this conceipt, attributing that to excel|lence of perfection, which was the excellency of a mo&s;t perfect mind. On the other &s;ide, the armes and hor&s;es, the Jewels and Mony, ac|coutrements not of peace nor poverty, but things rather belonging to a man of a contrary profe&s;&s;ion, confounded mens judgements. Others who were quicker &s;ented, &s;melt out the bu&s;ine&s;&s;e ju&s;t as it was: they examined that pre&s;ence too noble, for &s;uch a poor habit, and together with that his youth, beauty, valour, wealth, and the Queens pre&s;ent di&s;gu&s;ts: her going to him alone to his Gell, where for con|veniency, at lea&s;t there ought to have been &s;ome of her maids pre|&s;ent. The little likely-hood that any man, much le&s;&s;e a religious man, &s;hould dare to de&s;ire &s;uch a thing at her hands: and grant it &s;hould be &s;o, no woman would be &s;o &s;evere, or au&s;tere, to make &s;uch a &s;tir about it. Wherefore having &s;ought to put him to death unheard, was likelier to be, becau&s;e &s;he having de&s;ired &s;ome di&s;hone&s;t thing at his hands, was by him denyed to perform it. There were &s;ent together with one of the five which remained alive, &s;ome others to <HI>Lancobridge,</HI> which was not above three bow-&s;hoots from the place, to know of the Queen, what was her plea&s;ure &s;hould be done with the pri&s;oner: news which was more trouble&s;ome to her then <HI>Liarta's</HI> return: where|fore mi&s;doubting her own wicked facts, would be made manife&s;t by <HI>Raicos</HI> depo&s;ition, it was convenient for her to be rid of him, nei|ther knew &s;he which way; at the la&s;t di&s;&s;embling her fears, &s;he feign|ed her &s;elf tran&s;ported by exce&s;&s;iverage, &s;uch as never had po&s;&s;ibly any place amid&s;t fear, and called out toward her Knights: Will you endure me, &s;aid &s;he, then to be thus di&s;honoured, and &s;uffer the Tray|tors to live before my face in de&s;pight of me: Go I command you, and do not let them live: I shall by this, &s;ee who among you will make
<PB N="115" REF="61">mo&s;t ha&s;t in purcha&s;ing my favour: and turning towards the me&s;|&s;engers which were &s;ent to her, &s;he &s;aid, Tell them who &s;ent you, that my plea&s;ure is they &s;hould die pre&s;ently: that I will have this ju&s;tice done, &s;eeing the injury was done to my Royall per&s;on. This command &s;eemed har&s;h to the Grecians, and to the <HI>Lu&s;itanians</HI> mo&s;t cruel. The Me&s;&s;engers being returned to the Hermitage, cau&s;ed much whi&s;pering, e&s;pecially among&s;t the Knights. They conceived that the Pri&s;oners being put in pri&s;on, ought by way of ju&s;tice to be tri|ed for their offences, if they had committed any: The Courtiers in the mean time were arming them&s;elves, di&s;po&s;ed, though unwilling|ly to obey their Mi&s;tre&s;&s;es command. Now whil&s;t they were ex|pecting &s;ome &s;trange event in this bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, behold, there came in a Knight, armed with exceeding rich &s;umptuous armes, which made &s;hew of &s;o free and bold a courage, that the enviou&s;e&s;t eye in the world wold have been delighted in the &s;ight of him. He had two Squi|ers, and a Dam&s;el with him; and &s;eeing &s;uch a multitude of people, he had a great de&s;ire to know what the cau&s;e was. One could not perfectly di&s;cover <HI>Raico's</HI> face it was &s;o bloody; but &s;eeing <HI>Va&s;&s;ilius</HI> &s;tand with tears i&s;&s;uing from his eyes, be&s;eeching the &s;tanders by, that he might be permitted to dre&s;s the Hermit: the Knight &s;eemed to be &s;omewhat troubled at it, and calling the Dam&s;ell to him, he whi&s;|pered &s;omewhat in her ear, pointing at <HI>Va&s;silius,</HI> whereupon &s;he growing pale, the tears gu&s;hed pre&s;ently forth of her eyes, and were again as &s;uddainly &s;topped, the Knight having given her but a little &s;hake. This act, which was particularly ob&s;erved by the Knights, made every one wonder: advancing forward then, and a little more &s;eriou&s;ly looking upon the Hermit, he &s;tood &s;till a while in &s;u&s;pence; and hearing the Queen was the cau&s;e of this his evill u&s;age, he &s;hook his head, and lifting up his eyes towards the Courtiers, which cryed as they came, that they &s;hould be killed, he &s;aid to the Hermit &s;o loud, that every one might hear him. Let not the&s;e out-cryes af|fright you Prince <HI>Raico;</HI> you &s;hall not die, or if you do, I will die with you: and &s;purring his Hor&s;e forward, he went to meet them; and as &s;oon as ever he came near to them, he &s;aid, Knights, I pray go no fur|ther, to obey &s;o unju&s;t a command will procure you nothing but pain and repentance. The Prince&s;s of <HI>Feacia</HI> is no longer Queen in <HI>Lu&s;itania;</HI> Queen <HI>Liarta</HI> being alive, and returned. But &s;uppo&s;e &s;he were, where is it permitted to Queens to put men to death without any form of ju&s;tice. Let the Pri&s;oners be put into the Magi&s;trates hands, and if they be found culpable, let them be puni&s;hed. The&s;e rea&s;ons liked the Knights very well, neither were they di&s;plea&s;ing to the common people; when the bolde&s;t among the Grecians an&s;wered: And who are you, you unadvi&s;ed fellow, that dare pronounce &s;entence concer|ning the Queens marriage? Will you be &s;o mad as to oppo&s;e your &s;elf again&s;t her commands? We have order to kill them pre&s;ently, and if you contradict us, we will do the &s;ame by you. They &s;hall live (an&s;wered the &s;trange Knight) and I with them to your &s;hame: and you only ba&s;e Traytors &s;hall die by this hand; and turning to the Knights
<PB N="116" REF="62">who followed him; he prayed them not to meddle with the fight, but to leave it to him alone: this was not their intention, being all re&s;olved to not &s;ee the Pri&s;oners wronged, yet they obeyed him, rather to &s;ee whether the effects were corre&s;pondent to &s;o much confidence, then becau&s;e they judged him &s;uch as to have no need of them. The threatning and a&s;&s;aulting of them with his &s;word in his hand, though divers things were in an in&s;tant performed: The gentlene&s;s which ap|peared in his externall, altered in a&s;pect, and in an in&s;tant became fiercene&s;s and terror: His beautiful and rich armes, were in &s;mall time all be&s;meared with blood and brains: he never &s;trook &s;troke but he kill'd, he never kill'd, but he di&s;membred: his Steed obedient to his hand, emulating as it were his Ma&s;ter, pa&s;t and repa&s;t among&s;t them like &s;wift lightning. Never did Engine &s;o ea&s;ily over-throw a tottering and ill-founded Tower, as he over threw men and hor&s;es. You would have judged him by the champing of his Bic an enraged Ma&s;tiffe: by his kicking, a new, but more untamed <HI>Bucephalus.</HI> The Knights well perceived they &s;hould have nothing el&s;e to do, but to behold his Prowe&s;&s;es, neither could they behold them without ad|miration. He maimed and cut in pieces as many men and hor&s;es, as he &s;troke blows: It is written for a wonder, that <HI>Ailas</HI> bore up the Heaven, but it was a greater wonder to &s;ee the earth bear &s;uch a War|tior. None of all the&s;e went forward to kill the Pri&s;oners, for they all lay &s;lain in the place, and if one e&s;caped with the &s;ad news to <HI>Laodomia,</HI> there was never race run &s;o &s;wift, as he flew to the unfor|tunate Palace, thinking him&s;elf happy, he only had fortune to e&s;cape out of the general Ma&s;&s;acre: <HI>Va&s;&s;ilius</HI> whil&s;t they fought, knew the Dam&s;ell, who without &s;peaking a word, &s;tood by him; neither &s;hould he have thought of looking upon her, if the Knights words, who called his ma&s;ter by his name, had not awakned him: whereupon re|joycing, gentle <HI>Darice</HI> (&s;aid he in the Greek tongue) what pittifull God hath hath brought you hither at this time, in &s;uch an extremity to &s;ave the Prince, my Ma&s;ters life and honour? make your &s;elfe known unto him, I pray you, loe where he is, his face all be&s;meared with blood, his Clothes torn, his body wounded, and bound like a wild bea&s;t. The Dam&s;ell was &s;o overcome with compa&s;&s;ion, that &s;he had neither power to an&s;wer, nor yet to obey him: When <HI>Raico</HI> hear|ing that name, though he were attentive beholding of the Knights prowe&s;&s;e, turning about knew her, and a&s;toni&s;ht too &s;ee &s;o unlook'd for a &s;ight, &s;aid, I have no lei&s;ure <HI>Darice</HI> to te&s;tifie unto you, how joy|ful I am to &s;ee you here, &s;ince the obligation by which I am obliged to that mo&s;t valiant Warrior, makes me de&s;irous to know him, &s;ince he knoweth me, tell me I pray you who it is; She bowing her &s;elf down upon the Hor&s;e neck, an&s;wered him, My Lord, Time will not permit to rehear&s;e how much I am grieved to find you in this e|&s;tate, and if I were not certain that the end of this skirmi&s;h, will be the period of your impri&s;onment, I &s;hould die with griefe. As for that Knight, I be&s;eech you to pardon me if I conceal his name, for I am commanded &s;o to do, and if I &s;hould tell you it, I know not
<PB N="117" REF="62">whether it would be plea&s;ing unto you. <HI>Raico</HI> was confounded with the&s;e lo&s;t words: though &s;ilence (in his conceipt) told him that name which &s;he pretended to hide from him, but being unwilling to pre&s;&s;e upon her too much, ca&s;ting his eyes upon the Squires, he pre&s;ently cal|ed them to mind both, while&s;t &s;he with a weeping tone de&s;ired him to &s;uffer her to dre&s;&s;e his hurts. He like one that e&s;teemed not the im|minent dangers, an&s;wered with a &s;mile, Saying, &s;eemeth it unto you <HI>Darice,</HI> that I am in ca&s;e to receive this courte&s;ie at your hands, you mu&s;t ask tho&s;e who keep me, leave, and the&s;e bonds which bind me. But where is the Prince&s;&s;e of <HI>Acarnania</HI> my Lady? how doth &s;he? Happy, I, if I had not to my great confu&s;ion been &s;o ingratefull to her, but I am ju&s;tly puni&s;hed for it. She being &s;atisfied with the&s;e la&s;t words, &s;aid unto him, My Lady, Sir, is as well as that Knight whom you &s;ee fighting for you, from him you &s;hal have more particular news he being come to you from her. <HI>Raico</HI> was much confounded at the&s;e words, and thinking he was deceived concerning that Knight, he im|agined he was come to challenge him and fight with him at her re|que&s;t; On the other &s;ide, knowing her to be mo&s;t valiant, and in martiall affairs farre from employing any others for her, he knew not what to think. In the mean time the battell was reduced to termes of a certain victory on the Knight's &s;ide, with &s;o much amazement to the beholder, that every one judged it impo&s;&s;ible that a &s;quadron of armed men could have performed that which he alone had done And being remained but one of ten, who recommended his life to the fleetne&s;&s;e of a &s;wift hor&s;e, he returned to the re&s;t, by whom he was received with &s;uch honour as his &s;ingular vertue was &s;ingularly well worthy of. And coming among&s;t them who applauded him for be|ing as courteous there, as he had been terrible among&s;t his enemies, being come to the place where <HI>Raico</HI> was, he &s;aid unto them; Gentle|men, I have undertaken to defend this Knight, not upon terms of vi|olence, but of rea&s;on, He is not what he &s;eems by his habit, but a great Prince. I think I di&s;plea&s;e him by telling it, but it is requi&s;ite I &s;hould do it He is but too well known to <HI>Laodomia,</HI> and <HI>Lu&s;itania</HI> is not the fir&s;t of their acquaintance. Yet that which &s;he at this pre&s;ent layeth to his charge is meer malignity and calumnie. Will you be plea&s;ed to deliver him into my hands that I may &s;ee him cured. I will be &s;urety for him, and pre&s;ent him before Ju&s;tice, when&s;oever it &s;hal cal for him. If his ca&s;e be to be debated by the rigour of Law, he &s;hall not want rea&s;ons on his behalf. If by armes, he &s;hall be his own Champion, his &s;word being the be&s;t in the <HI>Ea&s;t.</HI> I do not &s;peak it to &s;pare mine own, but becau&s;e I would not do him wrong: and if his health will not permit him. I will adventure my &s;elf again&s;t any one that &s;hall accu&s;e him. Having thus &s;aid, he &s;taid expecting an an&s;wer. The Knights looking one upon another, no particular man daring to make any re&s;olution of him&s;elf, drew together with &s;ome of the chief of the multitude, and there re&s;olved to give &s;uch a Knight &s;atisfacti|on. That the reputed Hermite, had been made pri&s;oner tumultuari|ly,
<PB N="118" REF="63">without the authority of any magi&s;trate, and if he had killed any, it was lawfull for him to do it, in his own defence. That the Lawes of <HI>Lu&s;itania</HI> did not oblige them to retain malefactors, &s;uch a thing belonging onely to Sergeants and other like officers. The pri&s;oners therefore being loo&s;ed, <HI>Raico</HI> was dre&s;&s;ed in the Hermitage by the dam&s;el, there being no wound of any danger found about him, and be|ing provided with a convenient boat, they were embarqued together with &s;ome others with the Knight, who would go along with them to get them good lodgings, being &s;trangers and people of worth. <HI>Raico</HI> u&s;ed all manner of thankfulne&s;&s;e (not omitting any kind of generous humiliation) towards his defender, yet could not obtain of him to &s;ee him without an helmet, or know who he was. Being arrived to <HI>Oli&s;ippo,</HI> they were placed in two &s;everall lodgings, after the Hermits jewells, armes, and hor&s;es were re&s;tored to him, and there for a &s;hort time we will leave them.</P>
<P><HI>Liarta</HI> having repo&s;ed &s;ome daies with her <HI>Almadero:</HI> the concour&s;e of Nobility which came to ki&s;&s;e their hands was &s;o great in <HI>Leuciana,</HI> that the &s;mallne&s;&s;e of the place being not able to entertain them, they were forced to think on removing to <HI>Caurio,</HI> a City &s;cituate between the River <HI>Tagus,</HI> and the Mount of <HI>Venus,</HI> and on that &s;ide which was fitte&s;t for the convenient &s;ojourning and abode of a great Court. They had gone directly to <HI>Oli&s;ippo,</HI> if the means of taking leave of <HI>La|odomia</HI> had not a little troubled them. The King had written to her di|ver&s;e times, and &s;ent diver&s;e me&s;&s;engers, but all in vain. He had kept diver&s;e Coun&s;ells about it, and there was re&s;olved an amba&s;&s;age of &s;ix of the chiefe&s;t, who being arrived to <HI>Lancobridge</HI> were &s;omewhat &s;candalized at the Hermits bu&s;ine&s;&s;e; believing the bu&s;ine&s;&s;e to be rather according as truly it was, then according to the fal&s;e rumor which <HI>Laodomia</HI> had rai&s;ed. Notwith&s;tanding this did not hinder them from doing that wherefore they were come. Having given no|tice of their arrivall, and that they had order to confer with her in a publick place touching &s;ome bu&s;ine&s;&s;e of importance, they were referred to the next day. Their emba&s;&s;age was already known by &s;ome advices come from Court, neither was there any Knight in <HI>O|li&s;ippo</HI> or thereabouts, nor much le&s;&s;e any &s;tranger, but came thither, de&s;irous to here what would be &s;aid there, &s;o that the next morning the great Hall was &s;o full of people, that the Amba&s;&s;adors had much adoe to reach to the cloth of &s;tate, under which the Queen leaning a|gain&s;t a chair expected them. After they had made her a low congee; But without kneeling as they were wont formerly to do, he that had order to &s;peak to her, after a &s;hort and well fitted exordium related to her; That <HI>Liarta</HI> their antient Queen being come again, they had order to give her notice of it; the King praying her to prepare her &s;elf for her return into <HI>Leucadia,</HI> or where &s;he be&s;t liked. For &s;ince Hea|ven was not plea&s;ed to have the marriage betwixt them to la&s;t any longer, it would plea&s;e to grant them in &s;tead of that a perpetuall friend&s;hip not &s;ubject to divorces, &s;uch an one his Maje&s;tie proffered
<PB N="119" REF="63">under name of her Knight while his life &s;hould la&s;t. That the Fleet &s;hould &s;hortly be ready to reconduct her: that &s;he &s;hould in the mean while bethink her wherein his Maje&s;ty might do her any &s;ervice, &s;ee|ing &s;he &s;hould &s;till keep the po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion of the &s;ame authority &s;he had, till that time had in that Kingdom. That in token of their former conjugall bonds, he be&s;towed on her all tho&s;e domains which for|merly belonged to Queen <HI>Liarta's</HI> Father, and with them the Title of Queen, to enjoy the profits thereof during her life, and di&s;po&s;e of all the offices within them, and of the Government thereof. And if &s;he de&s;ired to have her departure &s;olemnized by any publick demon|&s;trations, the King would not &s;pare any kind of honour: he would come him&s;elf in per&s;on to &s;ee her embarqued, and give her &s;uch an affectionate adue, as could be given by any well affected friend, if not, &s;he &s;hould her &s;elf pre&s;cribe in what manner it &s;hould be. He onely gave her notice, that her departure would defer the coming of Queen <HI>Liarta,</HI> not becau&s;e &s;he would not willingly &s;ee her, but becau&s;e &s;he, feared the &s;ight of her might be trouble&s;ome to her. <HI>Laodomia</HI> heard them with an impatient &s;ufferance. She turned her &s;elf every way, without finding any object to &s;atisfie her; She looked upon them by intervalls with angry and watery eyes. She changed, with the di|ver&s;ity of pa&s;&s;ions which altered in her by turns, even the very lineaments of her face. She grew pale, &s;he &s;weat, &s;he trembled: utte|ring no &s;ignes, but of an enraged and troubled mind. She would no longer, through anger, &s;tand upright, but &s;ate down, and &s;upplying the unfortunate failing of her judgement, in well re&s;olving, with the happine&s;&s;e of a faithfull memory in an&s;wering of all the&s;e particular articles; She &s;pake in this wi&s;e, I know that <HI>Liarta</HI> is come into <HI>Lu&s;i|tania:</HI> but I &s;ee no rea&s;on why her comming &s;hould cau&s;e my depar|tur. The King if he be ju&s;t ought to le&s;&s;en, not increa&s;e injuries upon tho&s;e who receive them: his decea&s;ed Father, denying him to have <HI>Liarta</HI> to be his wife, knew wherefore he did &s;o. <HI>Clande&s;tine</HI> and lu&s;tfull meetings were never by any good lawes allowed for lawfull marria|ages. <HI>Liarta</HI> is not his wife, I am: If any one of you know &s;he is his wife, he mu&s;t likewi&s;e know, where the marriage was contracted, where the wedding was celebrated, and what witne&s;&s;es were pre&s;ent. As for my part, I can affirm, and there is none of you that are ignorant of it, how I was fetched from <HI>Ericu&s;a,</HI> publickly e&s;pou&s;ed, &s;olemnly brought hither, and crowned with generall applau&s;e. To reward me with proffers of domains and vanities of Titles, are not things to be propounded to a Soveraign Prince&s;&s;e born as I am. And I being un|willing to live a widdow, &s;eeing my youth, and my &s;ubjects intere&s;ts will not permit it, what recompence can be given me if I cannot find a husband conformable to my condition, as que&s;tionle&s;&s;e I &s;hall not, bearing that mark of &s;hame which I here receive? Lo&s;t honour can|not be re&s;tored, nor have out of it &s;elf, any thing to countervalew it; it is a ponderous and weighty thing, which not &s;mall rewards, nay, nor great ones can encounterpoi&s;e It is thought a great favour to per|mit me the title of Queen, neither is it regarded that nothing is offe|red
<PB N="120" REF="64">me but what cannot be taken away from me, that which death it &s;elf cannot deprive me of. A Queen I am, and a Queen I &s;hall be &s;o long as the world la&s;ts, and &s;o long as the memory of my name &s;hall la&s;t to po&s;terity or in hi&s;tories. The friend&s;hip which the King pre|&s;ents to me is due to me conjoined, and not divorced, neither is it &s;uffi|cient for him to profe&s;&s;e him&s;elf my Knight, if he deny to be my hu&s;|band. If <HI>Liarta</HI> will not come till I be gone, she never is like to come, and if she thinks her &s;ight will offend me, she does not think ami&s;&s;e. The wor&s;t con&s;ciences are &s;ometimes accidentally good, as now hers is, not to clear her of her di&s;hone&s;ty, but to &s;hew it her, that her ob|&s;tinacie may render her inexcu&s;able. What will the world &s;ay when it &s;hall know, that the favours &s;hewen by the King and others to a concubine, have emboldened a fal&s;e and a counterfet Hermit &s;o far as to attempt <HI>Laodomia</HI> his wives hone&s;ty, and kill her &s;ervants before the eyes of the people, without &s;candall or puni&s;hment? Has <HI>Liarta</HI> roved all the <HI>Ea&s;t</HI> over, and having with her per&s;on &s;atisfied <HI>Coralbo</HI> Prince of <HI>Arabia,</HI> doth &s;hre return into <HI>Lu&s;itania</HI> to re|ceive the Crownfor her reward? I confe&s;&s;e &s;he de&s;erves it, be|ing a fit Queen for &s;uch &s;ubjects, who would per&s;wade me to &s;uch di &s;hone&s;t things. She would have &s;aid more, but &s;he was hindred by a Knights comming, who making his way through the throng, cried out he mu&s;t be heard, and &s;o made her &s;top, won|dring that any one dur&s;t to interrupt her. The Amba&s;&s;adours thought to have chid him, but he being come up to the place where they were, was in &s;uch rich armour, and had &s;o brave an a&s;pect, and &s;o full of authority, that they would &s;ay nothing to him. He looking upon <HI>Laodomia,</HI> and wondring to find her &s;o much altered from what &s;he was, when he &s;aw her in <HI>Ericu&s;a,</HI> he &s;aid thus, I am the Bani&s;h't La|dy, daughter of <HI>Polimero,</HI> and <HI>Eromena</HI> Prince&s;s of <HI>Sardinia. Coralbo</HI> Prince of <HI>Arabia</HI> is mine acquaintance and friend. Queen <HI>Liarta</HI> is re|puted &s;o good, that I &s;hould do very ill to e&s;teem that good opinion which all the world hath of her to be otherwi&s;e then true. And were it otherwi&s;e, hone&s;ty (O <HI>Laodomia</HI>) should teach you that bu&s;ine&s;&s;e of this nature ought to be more mode&s;t. That which I pretend is to maintain your accu&s;ation to be an open calumnie. That <HI>Liarta</HI> was alwaies, and is cha&s;t, and that <HI>Coralbo</HI> accompanied her to &s;erve her, and not to defame her: here is my gage. And having thus &s;aid, she threw down her glove. Whil&s;t she yet &s;pake; there was a Knight drew near her, who&s;e grace and comline&s;&s;e was &s;o remarkable, that it drew every ones eyes towards him, e&s;pecially <HI>Laodomia's;</HI> who a&s;tonished at this unlook'd for challenge, thought he was advanced to under|take the battell for her. The Banish'd Lady had &s;carce done &s;peaking, when the Knight kneeling to her &s;uddenly, ki&s;&s;ed her bare hand, and giving her many thanks for &s;o &s;peciall a favour: be&s;ought her to &s;uffer him (&s;eeing he was pre&s;ent) to defend his own cau&s;e. The warrier|re&s;&s;e remained in &s;u&s;pence, far from imagining who it was, but re|membring the accent of his &s;peech, she joyfully an&s;wered, she was
<PB N="121" REF="64">content, &s;eeing his honour, which &s;he intended to be jealous of, did require it: he humbling him&s;elf again to her, the occa&s;ion and place affording him no longer time of Complements, advanced towards <HI>Laodomia,</HI> &s;aying; I am &s;orry Prince&s;s of <HI>Feacia,</HI> that you are a wo|man, and that I being a &s;ervant to this &s;ex, am forbidden to u&s;e &s;uch tearms to you as I &s;hould, were you a man: Yet is it not lawfull for you to calumniate a Lady far better then your &s;elf, and an innocent Knight without reproof. I am that <HI>Coralbo</HI> whom you fal&s;ely accu&s;e: Queen <HI>Liarta</HI> I never knew, but to commi&s;erate her di&s;a&s;ters, and pit|ty her griefs. That which you alledge to the contrary, if it be not your own invention (as I believe it is not) it was a wicked malice in him who made you believe it. If he be a ba&s;e fellow, that &s;hall not prejudice him, let him have the priviledge of a man without excep|tion; I will &s;ubject my &s;elf to the laws; I will produce witne&s;&s;es, that when I fir&s;t knew <HI>Liarta,</HI> I took her to be a Knight, that upon this &s;uppo&s;ition I kept company with her, that our meeting was up|on the Sea, in the &s;ight of the Marriners and Squires, and was never alone with her. If he be a Knight, he is an unworthy one, here is my gage (which &s;aying, he threw a Glove before the <HI>Amba&s;&s;adors</HI>) I will prove him alyer, and put him to death. The&s;e la&s;t words were no &s;ooner &s;poken, but a Knight who &s;tood not far from him, &s;tooped and took up the Glove, and holding it up in an affected and ridicu|lous manner, &s;aid, the author of this truth is not far off. I the Lord of <HI>Ithaca</HI> am he that &s;pake it, he who with the point of his &s;word will drive the lie back from whence it came, we are in armes already: and withall he lowred his Vizard, which only was rai&s;ed up (as tho&s;e of all the unknown Knights were) he laid his hand on his &s;word. <HI>Co|ralbo</HI> drew his al&s;o, though it &s;eemed very impertinent to him to fight in that place where they could not weild their &s;words without dan|ger to the &s;tanders by: <HI>Laodamia</HI> who was much refre&s;hed at the un|looked for appearance of this new Champion, commanded them to delay the fight, and &s;o did the Amba&s;&s;dors, when loe there appeared a fourth Knight: It was no hard matter to know him, for it was he, who in defence of the Hermit, had made &s;uch a &s;laughter of <HI>Laodo|mia's</HI> &s;ervant; who in a Maje&s;tick and decent manner, &s;tanding be|tween them two, &s;aid, this is no place to debate or combat, but a place to agree quarrels, I pray forbear: and turning her face towards the Chair of &s;tate, &s;he &s;aid with a loud voice, &s;o that every one might very plainly under&s;tand her.</P>
<P>I (O <HI>Laodomia</HI>) am the Prince&s;s of <HI>Acarnania;</HI> thou know'&s;t what tricks thou ha&s;t played me, &s;o thou knowe&s;t likewi&s;e, thou can&s;t not di&s;&s;emble with me, becau&s;e I know thee two well If thou ha&s;t &s;uch another (for better thou can&s;t not have) then this thine, and my neighbour of <HI>Ithaca,</HI> to oppo&s;e unto me, do it: then turning towards the Amba&s;&s;adours, &s;he proceeded. She that will here be e&s;teemed a new <HI>Penelope,</HI> whil&s;t old <HI>Lamia</HI> was not more pro&s;titute then &s;he, en|deavours to make us believe &s;he was di&s;hone&s;tly &s;olicited by the Her|mit upon the River of <HI>Tagus.</HI> The Hermit is <HI>Raico,</HI> the King of <HI>Epirus</HI>
<PB N="122" REF="65">his Son, who having lo&s;t him&s;elf in the love of this Adultere&s;s, and having enjoyed her before e're King <HI>Almadero</HI> came to <HI>Ericu&s;a,</HI> came hither unknown to his Father, drawn by the enchantments of her la&s;civious dalliances, and clothed him&s;elf in this habit: She was in his Cell to vi&s;it him, and &s;tayed with him alone, under pretence of re|ceiving comfort from him in her pre&s;ent de&s;erved afflictions, which might far more conveniently have been done in the pre&s;ence of &s;ome of her Dam&s;els, who might very well have been ear-witne&s;&s;es of the&s;e their pretended &s;piritual di&s;cour&s;es. We need not doubt but Prince <HI>Raico</HI> alone may inform us of the truth, but he being &s;o generous a Knight, I dare a&s;&s;ure my &s;elf, that &s;ince he believes it lawfull for him to defend her innocency by way of armes, he will not think it fit to accu&s;e a woman of &s;o much di&s;hone&s;ty, though &s;he be his Capital enemy: I therefore who know them both, will maintain <HI>Laodomia</HI> &s;peaks fal&s;e, here is my Glove. <HI>Laodomia</HI> hearing the Prince&s;s of <HI>Acarnanias</HI> name, and &s;eeing her pre&s;ent, had like to have fainted: &s;he pre&s;ently reputed her &s;elf lo&s;t, if not dead: all her hopes &s;he had before gathered together with her cunning, and treacheries being now di&s;per&s;ed, knowing &s;he had a Regi&s;ter of her di&s;hone&s;t actions now by her, and no place left for denyals or excu&s;es: and finding her &s;elf not only pricked, but wounded by the edge of a truc-telling Tongue, an un&s;potted maiden, a warlike Prince&s;s, who was both her Rivall and enemy. If &s;he did not die, it was divine mercy that re&s;erved her for repentance: then ca&s;ting her langui&s;hing eyes about, which in &s;ilence begged for relief of the &s;tanders by, nor &s;eeing any one &s;tir in her behalf, contrary-wi&s;e all to be very wel contented with what was &s;aid of her; &s;he thought to follow the cu&s;tome of nature, and make fear to produce boldne&s;s, and di&s;hone&s;ty, right, being &s;ure that if &s;he were overcome every way el&s;e, yet &s;he would conquer every one in &s;hamele&s;s impudency: But the Lord of <HI>Ithaca,</HI> who be|ing of <HI>Uly&s;&s;es</HI> Genealogy, was Heir of his malice and cunning, his pru|dence and valour being inherited by his other Brothers, was a great while in doubt, whether he &s;hould &s;ay any thing or no; &s;eeing the battel he had already undertaken again&s;t <HI>Coralbo,</HI> might free him from it. But being in particular offended by the Prince&s;s of <HI>Acar|nania,</HI> and no body appearing for <HI>Laodomia,</HI> he was forced to an&s;wer her: No mean re&s;olution of virtue (if virtue it were) to &s;mother the inward fear he had of the Prince&s;s being by it overcome. The laws of hone&s;ty (&s;aid he) which indifferently oblige both men and women, ought with the &s;ame indifferency bind women with a double tie; the&s;e have you at the pre&s;ent broken O Prince&s;s of <HI>Acarnania.</HI> The cha&s;tity of Queen <HI>Laodomia,</HI> hath all the Ea&s;t for witne&s;s; your calumnies none but your &s;elf: if you were in place where adultery is not proved without the depo&s;ition of two at lea&s;t, that have pun|ctually at the &s;ame time &s;een the act, you would be mightily troubled, nor would your being famous in armes, free you from puni&s;hment. If what you &s;ay were true, the Prince of <HI>Epirus</HI> needed not to have di&s;gui&s;ed him&s;elf to enjoy her love, all is fal&s;e, they are all lies: and
<PB N="123" REF="65">if this Knight, with whom I have already pa&s;&s;ed my word to fight? will give me leave, I will take up your gage, that you may not have neither a better, nor one like to me, but me my &s;elf to cha&s;ti&s;e you. I find my &s;elf (an&s;wered the Prince&s;s with a &s;cornfull &s;mile) &s;o much cha&s;ti&s;ed, that I can endure no greater puni&s;hment by &s;uffering your impudent &s;hamele&s;&s;ene&s;s. If you did know tho&s;e lawes of hone&s;ty which you &s;o ma&s;ter-like do teach us, you &s;hould know two things, which being ignorant of, you ought to learn of us. The fir&s;t is, to make u&s;e of your own rea&s;ons, if you have any, without objecting to others invented guilts. Recrimination being a mark of a guilty and cauterized con&s;cience. The &s;econd, that not he who an&s;wers and ju&s;ti|fies him&s;elf, but he who impudently calumniates, and fal&s;ly accu&s;es, is the breaker of the&s;e Lawes. You &s;ay all the Ea&s;t is witne&s;&s;e of this womans cha&s;titie? and why not the We&s;t? Why not King <HI>Almadero,</HI> who enjoyed her while her husband lived? Did not the King of <HI>Epi|rus</HI> keep his &s;on under cu&s;tody, till this cha&s;t woman went from <HI>Eri|cu&s;a</HI> for fear of &s;ome &s;candall. The Ea&s;t accu&s;ing them for their di&s;ho|ne&s;t conver&s;ation? But of your &s;elf good my Lord of <HI>Ithaca,</HI> what think you the Ea&s;t &s;ayth of you and her? as for the Lawes which you alledge to me, if they were of force here, in what ca&s;e do you think you &s;hould be if you were forced to prove that again&s;t a mo&s;t cha&s;t Queen and a mo&s;t noble Prince, that which never was, nor never came to pa&s;&s;e in any ones hearing neither in the <HI>Ea&s;t</HI> nor in the <HI>We&s;t,</HI> but is onely now bruited by your two di&s;hone&s;t tongues. To you two mo&s;t worthy couple, the Epitome of the <HI>Ea&s;t</HI> and <HI>We&s;t,</HI> to you the <HI>Ul<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters">y<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">s</HI> and <HI>Penelope</HI> of our age it is lawfull to &s;peak what you plea&s;e without fear of God or man. But let the Lord of <HI>Ithaca</HI> be plea&s;ed to give us leave to ask her; why &s;he once would have bribed my own &s;ervants to poy&s;on me, and at another time to &s;end three mur|therers to kill me when I was a hunting? If &s;he be a&s;hamed to tell you, I will not. It was becau&s;e Prince <HI>Raico</HI> was appointed to be my husband, which being once come to pa&s;&s;e, he &s;hould have been for|ced to leave her. And to free him from this bond, &s;he knew no rea|dier way then to ridde me of my life. <HI>Laodomia</HI> had till then held her tongue fa&s;tened to the roof of her mouth, advi&s;ed by her own evill con&s;cience. But when &s;he &s;aw the Prince&s;&s;e going on in full carriere, to reveale all her &s;hamefull acts, &s;he thought it was time to interrupt her, crying out they were all fal&s;hoods and lies. I will make thee con|fe&s;&s;e them (thou impudent &s;trumpet) to be all to thy knowledge, and as &s;he would have gone nearer to her, <HI>Ithaca</HI> oppo&s;ed her; There was never enraged Tiger &s;o fierce as the furious warriere&s;&s;e became at that time, &s;he took the Iron guantlet which lay upon the ground before her, &s;triking him on the mouth with &s;uch force that the blood gu&s;hed out in abundance. He had by misfortune lifted up his beaver before becau&s;e he would have his words better heard. Now feeling him&s;elf thus evill entreated he lift up his &s;word which he had rea|dy drawn in his hand, and &s;triking at her head, he cut the latchets wherewith her Helmet was fa&s;tned. She feeling it loo&s;e (not fearing
<PB N="124" REF="66">any &s;econd blowes, threw it on the ground, and clo&s;ing with him took away his &s;word, and throwing him on the ground, I know not whether with more dexterity or &s;trength, &s;he laid him at her feet, &s;triking him continually with the gauntlet. There was never &s;uch a battel &s;een. The Amba&s;&s;adors would have taken him out of her hands, but &s;he being enraged, &s;aid unto them, I pray let me alone with him, you do not know him as well as I do, this fellow is fit to be u&s;ed in no other manner, and as he would have gotten from under her, &s;he gave him a kick on the brea&s;t, that &s;he tumbled him down again backward, continuing the torment of the gauntlet upon him, till &s;ownding he &s;pit out all his teeth. Then being &s;atisfied, &s;he turned the other way; <HI>Laodomia</HI> had that morning put on a Royall Crown, think|ing it &s;hould &s;erve her for an Idoll of adoration. The fir&s;t thing the Prince&s;&s;e did, was to take it off her head, and pre&s;enting it to the Am|ba&s;&s;adours, &s;he de&s;ired them to give it to Queen <HI>Liarta,</HI> as duely be|longing to her. In the mean time, the coif which held up her hair be|ing unknit fell down to the ground. There was no rigor but was ap|pea&s;ed at that &s;ight, that a&s;pect made an end of eclip&s;ing <HI>Laodomia's</HI> beauty. The gel&s;omine and the white binde which knit up the ver|milion of tho&s;e beautifull ro&s;es, made the white and red which was in her &s;eem a &mdash; Her delicat re&s;plendent hair hanging down to her knee, waving up and down in the eye of the mullitude, made tho&s;e of <HI>Laodomia</HI> (fallen loo&s;e in the pulling off of her Crown) appear as things &s;poiled with rain and weather. The one was neat in her natu|rall beauty as Heaven had made her; the other in her feigned beauty, more artificious then befitted art it &s;elf, to beautifie her. But the beau|ty fulle&s;t of colours, being rai&s;ed at the falling of her hair, manife&s;ted that warlike rigidne&s;&s;e did not take away, but beautifie the be&s;t, which &s;o well becomes Virgin-mode&s;ty. Wherefore carefully gathe|ring and binding up again her hair about her head, &s;he asked whether any among tho&s;e which were pre&s;ent there, would undertake that unhappy womans defence? But no man &s;tirring (and the whole Hall being in a deep &s;ilencee) &s;he turned to her and &s;aid, <HI>Laodomia</HI> thou &s;ee&s;t to what a pa&s;&s;e thy continuall evill actions have brought thee Thou art no longer Queen, dally not with thy &s;elf Heaven and Earth abhor thee. I am &s;orry for it. Thou wert a Prince&s;&s;e born. If e|ver thou return to <HI>Leucadia</HI> I cannot chu&s;e but denounce fire, war and death again&s;t thee; a particular puni&s;hment due unto thee for the old injuries particularly done to me. As for the publick inju+ries to which thou oughte&s;t to give &s;atisfaction, two things are required. One to produce the author, or confe&s;&s;e thy &s;elf to be autrix of the calumnies rai&s;ed again&s;t the Queen and the Prince of <HI>Arabia.</HI> The other to tell us the cau&s;e which moved thee to de&s;ire to have the Hermit killed. If thou confe&s;&s;e&s;t thou &s;halt have pardon, we will procure it thee from her whom thou ha&s;t &s;o maliciou&s;ly offen|ded. Otherwi&s;e never hope to e&s;cape hence uncondemned. To one that is by fortunes favour grown proud, if &s;he once for&s;ake him, no|thing can be expected but dejection and ba&s;ene&s;&s;e: a truth which pro|ved
<PB N="125" REF="66">it &s;elf infallible in <HI>Laodomia;</HI> for a&s;toni&s;hed by &s;uch an unexpect|ed accident, &s;he &s;tood a long time without motion, her women and damzells rending their garments, and tearing their hair after a mo&s;t barbarous manner, calling in vain upon already bani&s;hed compa&s;&s;ion of the &s;tanders by. At la&s;t being come to her &s;elf again, and &s;eeing &s;he was come to that pa&s;&s;e that &s;he could not &mdash; without precipita|ting; <HI>Liarta</HI> too grievou&s;ly offended in her honour. The Prince&s;s and <HI>Raico,</HI> te&s;timonies without exception. The truth &mdash; Mercy with|out confe&s;&s;ion of the fact, an u&s;ele&s;&s;e advocate, with &s;obbs cau&s;ed by a mo&s;t bitter dolour, taking her by the &s;kirt of her garment with a &s;ubmi&s;&s;ive manner, an&s;wered her in this manner. Valiant Prnce&s;&s;e, If again&s;t rea&s;on, I cruelly offended you: ju&s;tly with as much ju&s;t cruelty have you revenged your&s;elf; for your particular, it &s;hall be as you plea&s;e. I will remit <HI>Leucadia</HI> with my &s;elf into your hands. As for the re&s;t I be&s;eech you to take unde&s;erved pitty of one mo&s;t de&s;ervedly unfortunate; and requiring &s;uch an extream &s;hame|full pennance of her, to be plea&s;ed to accept of it el&s;e whereout of the pre&s;ence of &s;o much company. Hearing the&s;e &s;ubmi&s;&s;e and lamen|table intreaties, the Prince&s;&s;es wrath was appea&s;ed, and having rela|ted her de&s;ire to the Amba&s;&s;adours and Princes there pre&s;ent, (after &s;ome ju&s;t debate thereupon) they granted her reque&s;t. Retiring with her, into one of the innermo&s;t rooms: the Lord of <HI>Ithaca</HI> had been carried out of the hall to <HI>Oli&s;ippo,</HI> to be cured. Other &s;eeing the meeting broken up went out, though they much de&s;ired to hear the event of it. <HI>Laodomia</HI> thanking them for this favour, broke out into &s;uch &s;peeches. My Lords, calumnie in innocencie, remaines extin|gui&s;hed like fire in water. I have defamed this Prince (pointing at <HI>Coralbo</HI>) with Queen <HI>Liarta,</HI> not that <HI>Ithaca</HI> did ever tell me &s;o, though he &s;aid he had; But becau&s;e her &s;elf having related to the King, how &s;he had kept company with him upon the Sea, I thought to frame this fal&s;hood thereupon, hoping that by ray&s;ing &s;ome &s;u&s;picion in his mind, I might alienate him from her. As for Prince <HI>Raico</HI> I went to &s;ee him, having not &s;poken with him before in <HI>Lu&s;i|tania;</HI> For though I &s;aw him once before and knew him, yet I did as though I had not known him. That which I reque&s;t|ed of him was to kill the King, to revenge my &s;elf for the divorce which I expected. But he denying to do it, I went angry from him, and under pretence that he had required &s;ome di&s;hone&s;ty of me. I en|deavoured to have him &s;lain. This is all which without making any circum&s;tances I can tell you. As for the re&s;t, I confe&s;&s;e I have erred: and as I do not excu&s;e my &s;elf, &s;o I do not pretend that my plots ha|ving taken no effect, makes me guiltle&s;&s;e. I know that not the event, but the deliberation makes the guilt, e&s;pecially in the per&s;on of Prin|ces. I crave pardon of all, and humbly begg, that if any puni&s;hment be decreed me, it may not be as this daies publick one was. I am a Prince&s;&s;e, and this favour ought not to be denied to my quality, though I be guilty. If my wickedne&s;&s;es (which trouble my mind more then any puni&s;hments can affright me) make me to undergoe
<PB N="126" REF="67">for aggravation, the odious &s;coffs and &s;cornes of a tumultuous multi|tude. I will procure my death with mine own hands. I &s;ought once to have this worthy Prince&s;&s;e of <HI>Acarnania</HI> poi&s;oned, and that not hitting, I &s;ent three murtherers to kill her, to break off her match with <HI>Raico,</HI> and enjoy him my &s;elf; But the revenge &s;he hath this day taken, is far greater, then if &s;he had killed me a thou&s;and times. The tears which gu&s;hed from her eyes as &s;he &s;poke the&s;e words drowned all tho&s;e words which &s;he intended to &s;peak more. The Prince&s;&s;e would have had the Amba&s;&s;adours an&s;wer her; but they renouncing this honour to her (&s;he having been the in&s;trument of terminating that in&s;tantly which they could not have ended but by long and tedi|ous waies) laying a&s;ide all her former rigidne&s;&s;es, &s;ought to comfort her with a wi&s;e corrective di&s;cour&s;e, &s;aying. That as for the publick di&s;grace, &s;he ought to complain of none but her &s;elf. She having not failed on her &s;ide publickly to defame the Queen and the Princes of <HI>Arabia</HI> and <HI>Epirus.</HI> And that even this pre&s;ent recantation (which al&s;o &s;hould have been publick, was by the&s;e Princes and Amba&s;&s;adours by &s;peciall grace, granted her to be in private. That they would for the future think well of her, confe&s;&s;ion of the fault being a &s;ign of repentance. That as for what belonged to her &s;elf, &s;he pardoned all former injuries. And did be&s;eech the Prince of <HI>Arabia</HI> to do the like, and tho&s;e Lords to mediate with the King and Queen, to the end that having leave &s;he might depart without having any word &s;poken of things pa&s;t <HI>Coralbo</HI> was not penurious in pardoning what was de&s;ired of him, and the Amba&s;&s;adors promi&s;ing to procure the like from their Maje&s;ties left her, the one returning to the Court, and the o|thers to <HI>Oli&s;ippo. Liarta</HI> receiving the Crown, wondred when &s;he heard the &s;ucce&s;&s;e, but much more <HI>Almadero.</HI> For he would never have imagined, that one e&s;teemed by him an Angell in per&s;on, would in practi&s;e have proved to be &s;uch a wicked and black fiend. He &s;ent the &s;ame Amba&s;&s;adors to invite to Court the above named Princes, <HI>Liarta</HI> de&s;iring to know them and give them thanks: but e&s;pe|cially to &s;ee <HI>Coralbo</HI> again, to whom (di&s;daining all calumnies) &s;he profe&s;&s;ed her &s;elf, duly affectioned. Neither was it forgotten to give &s;trict orders for a Navy, that <HI>Laodomia</HI> might be gone, &s;o &s;oon as po&s;&s;ible might be. But while the&s;e Princes advance towards <HI>Caurio,</HI> it is fitting we should relate by what fortune they all met, from &s;uch remote parts, in <HI>Lu&s;itania</HI> all together. And the Prince&s;&s;e of <HI>Acarna|nia,</HI> as the greate&s;t &s;tranger shall be our fir&s;t &s;ubject. <HI>Acarnania</HI> and <HI>Epirus</HI> having from the beginning been but one Kingdom &s;ubject to one Crown, remained (after they were divided) in great que&s;tion be|tween them: which differences being agreed between the two pre&s;ent Kings, the agreement was &s;ealed by a double affinitie. The Prince of <HI>Acarnania</HI> taking a &s;i&s;ter of <HI>Raico's</HI> to wife, and <HI>Raico</HI> having e&s;pou&s;ed <HI>Leuriana</HI> (which is this of whom we &s;peak) the &s;i&s;ter of the &s;aid Prince. The marriage of the fir&s;t was con&s;ummated, that of the &s;econd was deferred, being contracted in the parties too tender age. Whereby
<PB N="127" REF="67"><HI>Raico</HI> came to fall in love with <HI>Laodomia,</HI> who with her allurements kept him &s;o entangled, that the poor Prince did not imagine there had been any beautifull or gratious women in the world be&s;ides this. His Father had from the beginning &s;ent him to live with his &s;pou&s;e in <HI>Acarnania,</HI> to the end that her daily &s;ight and conver&s;ation, through amity might beget &s;uch love as ought to be among married people, a de&s;ign which took no effect but on <HI>Leuriana's</HI> &s;ide, &s;he &s;o enflamed of the Prince, that &s;he joy'd in nothing more, then in being near him; and being inclined to warlike exerci&s;es, &s;he loved him the more, not judging any other Prince worthy of her love, con&s;idering him for an addition to his other vertues, to &s;urpa&s;&s;e in feats of arms all the Knights of his time. So that &s;uch active &s;trength and excellent &s;pirit never wanting exerci&s;es, and new delights to entertain him, &s;he thought all time evill &s;pent which was without him. But he going into <HI>Epirus,</HI> and from thence into <HI>Feacia,</HI> to invite that Prince to his wedding, by misfortune fell in love with <HI>Laodomia;</HI> &s;o that forgetting his former e&s;pou&s;alls, he had not returned home, if his Father by re|duplicate letters and me&s;&s;ages had not recalled him. Yet he could not per&s;wade him to return into <HI>Acarnania,</HI> being &s;o be&s;otted with the &s;weets which he had ta&s;ted, that all other delights &s;eemed bitter and un&s;avoury to him: being by <HI>Laodomia</HI> again entangled in the &s;nares of her obedience by reiterated letters, promi&s;ing &s;he would become his wife after her hu&s;bands death, which was looked for every hour by rea&s;on of his continuall and dangerous di&s;ea&s;es; and fearing his Fa|thers ob&s;tinate &s;everity, might force him to obedience, She thought her readie&s;t way would be to have <HI>Leuriana</HI> poi&s;oned. Sending there|fore a tru&s;tie favourite of hers, &s;he did with gifts corrupt her Cup|bearer to that purpo&s;e, who being di&s;covered and put to death, a little afterward &s;he cau&s;ed her to be &s;et upon by three murtherers advantagiou&s;ly armed, as &s;he was a hunting of a Stag, whereof &s;he ha|ving killed one, the other two were taken by the hunt&s;men which came in, and being que&s;tioned, confe&s;&s;ed they were &s;ent by <HI>Laodomia,</HI> which happened at that time that <HI>Almadero</HI> arrived at <HI>Ericu&s;a,</HI> where|fore &s;he betaking her &s;elf to this new love, and forbearing writing to him, there happened the &s;o long wi&s;ht for death of her husband. Which was no &s;ooner heard of by <HI>Raico,</HI> but he intending to take his journey that way, was by his wary Father &s;tayed, being the fir&s;t that told him that <HI>Laodomia</HI> was married. But he having obtained his li|berty after &s;he was gone, re&s;olved to go after her into <HI>Lu&s;itania,</HI> as we have related. <HI>Leuriana</HI> in the mean time combated by di&s;dain, and forced by love went in que&s;t of him, thinking &s;he &s;hould find him in <HI>Lu&s;icania,</HI> &amp; after many troubles and dangers &s;he arrived there &s;o late, that if &s;he had delayed but one hour longer, &s;he had found him dead, and having there&s;aved his life, &s;he brought him to <HI>Oli&s;ippo,</HI> as you have heard, but would not make her &s;elf known to him, enraged, that &s;he was &s;o ba&s;ely and cau&s;ele&s;&s;ely contemned for &s;uch a kind of wo|man. Then hearing of the comming of the Amba&s;&s;adours to <HI>Lanco|bridge,</HI>
<PB N="128" REF="68">&s;he went thither, there employing her &s;elf as you have heard: and being again returned to <HI>Oli&s;ippo,</HI> &s;he related to <HI>Raico</HI> what things had befallen her, and made her &s;elf known to him: he repenting he had unde&s;ervedly neglected her. Wherefore the&s;e new obligements added to the antient love, he begged pardon of her, and having without much difficulty obtained it, &s;he recommended him to the care of her damzel being to her great grief forced to leave him in that manner alone and wounded.</P>
<P>The Lord of <HI>Ithaca,</HI> the elder of the two younger brothers of the Prince of <HI>Cephalonica,</HI> and Son of a Si&s;ter to the Prince of <HI>Feacia,</HI> had up|on occa&s;ion of vi&s;iting his Uncle contracted an un&s;eemly kind of acquaintance with his aunt, which he perceiving bani&s;hed his Ne|phew his hou&s;e and dominions; and finding him&s;elf by rea&s;on of his unworthy conditions, to be hated by his neighbours and brethren, re&s;olved, hearing <HI>Laodomia</HI> was married to go into <HI>Lu&s;itania,</HI> and there under the mournfull omens of his old loves to better his fortunes: but there he found his hopes mightily changed, &s;eeing that while he purpo&s;ed to oblige her with undertaking her defence, he was &s;o buffe|ted, that he was hardly whole time enough to accompany her into <HI>Leucadia,</HI> as he did.</P>
<P>I will not rehear&s;e the acts of <HI>Lindadori,</HI> &s;ince we left her in <HI>Parthe|nope.</HI> Onely I will &s;ay that the fea&s;ts being ended for the return of <HI>Co|rianna</HI> (in which &s;he ob&s;cured the fame of all the Knights that came thither) a mind took her to &s;ee all <HI>Italy,</HI> and then <HI>France,</HI> and <HI>Spain;</HI> where hearing of the wonders of <HI>Liartas</HI> vi&s;ible &s;pirit &s;he came to <HI>O|li&s;ippo,</HI> and being informed of the truth, &s;he went away at the Am|ba&s;&s;adors arrivall to <HI>Lancobridge,</HI> there befalling her what we have already &s;aid.</P>
<P><HI>Corallo</HI> remains, who after <HI>Liarta</HI> was gone from <HI>Ericu&s;a,</HI> tarried there almo&s;t a whole month, cured by the affections, no more of la|&s;civiou&s;ne&s;&s;es and loves, but of true amity of the Dutche&s;&s;e <HI>Chri&s;anta.</HI> Honour and age, and e&s;pecially troubles (which were the rai&s;ers of the&s;e re&s;pects) giving her under&s;tanding. The violence and anger of his evills being pa&s;t, entring in di&s;cour&s;e of the di&s;a&s;ters befallen her, he be&s;ought her to relate the &s;ucce&s;&s;es thereof to him, and how being reputed dead by the world, &s;he was now, prai&s;ed be Heaven, healthfull and &s;afe. Whereunto after a &s;hort preludium of tears &s;he thus an&s;wered. You command me (O Prince <HI>Coralbo</HI>) to rehear&s;e a Tragedy, whereof (if the mi&s;eries were not of the highe&s;t kind) I might with dry eyes make relation, but they being &s;uch as they are, it will be impo&s;&s;ible for me to perform it without &s;hedding of tears, le&s;t there i&s;&s;ue dropps of blood out of my heart. Yet I mean not upon this con&s;ideration to &s;hew my &s;elf di&s;courteous to you: your ju&s;t de&s;ire having an intere&s;t in mine affairs, yea, you being the fatall cau&s;e (though without any fault of yours) of all my di&s;a&s;ters. Know then, that after you had killed <HI>Cripa&s;&s;o,</HI> and that mine unfortunate dam&s;el was &s;lain by my Sonnes, they had at the &s;ame time a thought to kill my me too; But the con&s;ideration of their own honours
<PB N="129" REF="68">di&s;&s;waded them, &s;eeing the cau&s;e of my death could not be &s;hadowed without &s;candal: Wherefore contenting them&s;elves with cau&s;ing me to retire into an other lodging, by rea&s;on of the dead which lay in mine, and to cau&s;e my trunks to be carryed thither, as though I had been to remain there for a while, they took away all my &s;ervants, leaving none to wait upon me, but onely the &s;lave <HI>Selucca,</HI> and went away, giving me no an&s;wer to any thing I asked them: and &s;ome few dayes being pa&s;t, they &s;pread abroad a rumour, that I was mortally &s;ick, forcing my Phy&s;itian to &s;ay the &s;ame. I, who knew nothing of it, and &s;hould rather have imagined any thing, then &s;uch an inhumane re&s;o|lution; the &s;lave came to me with a Letter from <HI>Labenus,</HI> I opened it and read it, wherein was written, That my Sons not willing to &s;uf|fer me to live any longer, had re&s;olved to cau&s;e me to die the next night: Wherefore if I would &s;ave my life, there was no other way but to come down while they were at &s;upper into the entry below in the &s;laves habit, where I &s;hould find him, and thence go out at the Gar|den door, which went out into the Town dike, who&s;e key I had in my keeping. You may imagine how I found my &s;elf after this news, but con&s;idering the prudence and fidelity of <HI>Labenus,</HI> the manner how I was u&s;ed, how I was a pri&s;oner, bani&s;hed from my &s;ervants, my Chil|dren denying me the &s;ight of them, I made no more doubt of it, but taking a little Cabinet full of Jewels, and as much Gold as I could well carry: I put on the wretches Clothes, she laughing at it, and making her lie down in mine own bed, I commanded her to &s;leepe, which she did immediately, and I went away leaving her in her la&s;t &s;leep.</P>
<P>I know not whether you remember this wretches qualities, not on|ly to conceive what I lo&s;t in lo&s;ing of her, but rather to admire how often heaven infu&s;eth in contemptible per&s;ons, conditions of ine&s;ti|mable value. <HI>Selucca</HI> was &s;old me a child, &s;he grew &s;tupid, and ended mad: her api&s;h tricks rather then follies, were all plea&s;ant &s;ave onely when &s;he was frighted: among&s;t wild bea&s;ts, the Bear was to her as the Cock is to the Lion, the naming of him only would &s;tartle her. If any one had but hanged a Handkercher before his face, and &s;aid he was a Bear, &s;he would have leaped out at a Window, if &s;he could have got away by no other way; and if &s;he could not &s;hun him, &s;he would have become outragious, and fallen upon him and beaten him: She loved to wear gay Clothes, &s;o that being ill-favoured, and a head no bigger then ones fi&s;t, brave Clothes did di&s;-figure, her ma|king her look more like a changling or an elfe, then like a woman. She was very cleanly, and extream neat in all &s;he did: She never went from me, and was as it were in&s;eparable from me, but without any trouble; for I di&s;cour&s;ing of bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, &s;he neither under&s;tood it, nor applyed her &s;elf to the under&s;tanding of it; her under&s;tand|&s;ting having no part of reflection in it: and if I had need of any thing, I needed not have called to any one el&s;e for it, &s;he &s;erved me with &s;o good a garb, manners and behaviour, that it was impo&s;&s;ible that &s;uch rich qualities &s;hould harbour in &s;o poor a Cottage. The ima|gination
<PB N="130" REF="69">wrought the effect in her in this, for if I had bid her &s;leep, &s;he would have &s;lept, lying upon the ground, leaning her head upon the hearth of the Chimney. The Duke my Son, made her once (I have forgotten upon what occa&s;ion) put on mans apparell, and be|ing very cold weather, going near the fire with her, he made her come &s;o near it, that &s;he burned her lgges, and &s;he &s;aying &s;he burned, the Duke an&s;wered her no; for the legs which burned were not <HI>Seluccas,</HI> but his: Which she rejoycing at, the more the fire &s;corcht her, the more she laughed, imagining it did not &s;corch her but the Duke: and though her legges were &s;corched therewith a long time after, yet she alwaies was of that mind, it was her Ma&s;ter that had burned his legges, and would laugh at it as a fruit of her wit, the fruit of her cun|ning and well turned brain. When <HI>Labenus</HI> gave her the Letter to bring to me, she had &s;o much under&s;tanding, as to know that no bo|dy el&s;e was to &s;ee it, and putting it into her bo&s;ome, she did not take it out till she came into my pre&s;ence. I cau&s;ed her to lie in my bed, to her and my di&s;adventure, intending to cozen my Sonne; but had I imagined &s;uch a &s;ucce&s;s, I would have done any thing but what I did. Having found <HI>Labenus,</HI> and given him the Cabinet, and mo&s;t part of the money, I went down into the Mote, where having laid down <HI>Se|lucca's</HI> Clothes, I put on mans apparell, which he had hidden there before for me, and went not far off from thence to <HI>Boviano,</HI> to the hou&s;e of <HI>Ceriale</HI> my mo&s;t faithful &s;ervant, who kept two very good Hor&s;es for me, upon which getting up, taking that way my Domini|ons reached lea&s;t, which was towards <HI>Daunia,</HI> coming about break of day to the River <HI>Frento,</HI> having cro&s;&s;ed which, we had been out of my jurisdiction of <HI>Sannio.</HI> I had &s;taid there willingly, having need of re&s;t, but fearing to be known (having refre&s;hed our Hor&s;es, we went beyond <HI>Luceria,</HI> riding all night without re&s;ting. Being come to the River <HI>Aufidus,</HI> not far from <HI>Canu&s;io,</HI> I re&s;ted there that night, and the day following, expecting that <HI>Ceriale</HI> (according to order given him) should come or &s;end me &s;ome news: He came him&s;elf, and told me, that my Sonnes accompanied by two &s;ervants onely, were that night gone into my Chamber without any light, and finding <HI>Selucca</HI> in my bed, thinking it had been I, they had cau&s;ed to be her &s;trangled, and by twi-light having opened the windows, they had cau&s;ed her to be put into a Che&s;t, and the next day to be buried without any &s;olem|nitie at all: That afterwards &s;eeking for <HI>Selucca,</HI> and finding her Clothes in the Mote, and not her, they entred into &s;u&s;pition that &s;he was gone, having &s;tolen &s;omewhat of great value: Therefore &s;earch|ing the place where I kept my Jewels, they found the keyes up|on the Desk (which I had left there at random, after I had locked it up) opened it, and not finding the Jewels, the &s;u&s;pition increa|&s;ing they had &s;ent after her to take her, and bring her back: I know not which I lamented mo&s;t, either the innocent wenches mi&s;-for|tune, or my Childrens cruelty again&s;t my &s;elf: I remained not know|ing what cour&s;e to take, but being advi&s;ed to &s;tay here (the place be|ing
<PB N="131" REF="69">&s;ecure, although I had been known) I writ divers Letters of cre|dency by <HI>Ceriale,</HI> to &s;ome of my Va&s;&s;als that hearing I was alive, they might know how to find occa&s;ions to &s;erve me. The news of my mi&s;-fortune in the mean time being bruited abroad about the con|fines, was of great &s;candal, and cau&s;e of un&s;peakable di&s;dain to all my kindred, believing the two Brothers had taken &s;uch a wicked re&s;o|lution to divide the inheritance between them, being both prodigal, &amp; con&s;equently enemies to my frugal, though not ignoble oeconomie. They had &s;ent, as I have told you, every way to &s;eek out <HI>Selucca,</HI> and finding no re&s;t within them&s;elves, (their hearts being continually gnawn by the beak of Con&s;cience) nor any place in the hou&s;e free from my &s;hadows threatning of them; they re&s;olved to go out of it, with pretext of &s;eeking her them&s;elves, willing to have no other company with them but two Pages: and coming at night (for the accumulating of all mi&s;-fortunes) to lodge where I lay; they found me in a little Parlour, with my face towards the door. There was no other light but that little which came from the Chimney, the flame being weak, and the wood almo&s;t quite con&s;umed; wherefore to know me in the habit I was in, would have been hard for any el&s;e, and e&s;pecially for them which thought me dead, if the flying Atoms had not taken my &s;hape upon them, and flying about them, had not made me known; Reputing me therefore to be not that carnal Mo|ther which had brought them forth, but her offended &s;pirit; Their affrightment was &s;uch, that the younger tumbling down the &s;tairs, made &s;uch a noi&s;e, that all the gue&s;ts in the Inneran to the noi&s;e: and <HI>Labenus</HI> being gone into the Kitchin to be&s;peak my &s;upper, ran to the noi&s;e with the re&s;t, yet pre&s;ently went back again as &s;oon as he &s;aw them: But it was more then needed: for being by the terror of &s;ight bereft both of &s;ence and rea&s;on, one with his head broken with the fall down &s;tairs, the blood running about his ears, and both of them mad; they took their Hor&s;es, which the &s;ervants of the hou&s;e were walking in the yard, rid away as fa&s;t as they could. <HI>Labenus</HI> advi&s;ed me to be gone pre&s;ently; thinking that they hearing I was alive, were come to find me out: But if it had been &s;o, having found and known me, they needed not have ran from me. I &s;taid therefore, and taking heart, I &s;upped; but as I was going to bed, we heard a whi&s;per|ing that put us again into confu&s;ion. <HI>Labenus</HI> &s;hutting the door after him, went down the &s;tairs, and finding two gue&s;ts new come in to the Inne encompa&s;&s;ed with others, he heard them &s;ay, Vengeance is divine. The world believes, (and I doubt it is true enough) that with their own hands they killed their Mother. The Gods have pu|ni&s;h'd them, to &s;hew how they abhor parricide: But how happened it, &s;aid one of them that &s;tood by. I will tell you &s;aid the other; They had both been here where they intended to lie all night, but a Gho&s;t appearing unto them here (as a Page relateth who &s;aw it as well as they) they fled away. Now while&s;t upon the way one followed the other with a full Gallop, who by a fall down the &s;tairs, felt him&s;elf in a very evill ca&s;e; he &s;aw him &s;top on a &s;uddain, and drawing his
<PB N="132" REF="70">&s;word hit his own hor&s;e between the ears, that were it the force of the blow, or becau&s;e he hit him in a mortall place; the hor&s;e fell dead to the ground. This terror added to the former, made him conceive &s;ome great frenzie in his brother, he alighted to help him, and come|ing to him asked him what he ailed. But he muttering (&s;o that one could not under&s;tand what he &s;aid) wounded the elde&s;t with a thru&s;t in the belly, and alighting from his hor&s;e, followed him &s;o clo&s;e, that he forced him to defend him&s;elf. The pages alighted, came too late to part them. For having run one another through, clo&s;ing together they continued the battell with fi&s;ts and nailes: till falling a&s;under they died howling, and groaning in &s;uch hideous manner, that my companions and I coming thither ju&s;t at that time, were ex|traordinarily affrighted with it. Seeing them in the pangs of death bite the Earth, wallow up and down in their own blood, and draw their faces awry in &s;uch a di&s;tracted manner, as had been able to affright any as looked upon them, were their courage never &s;o &s;tout: The Pages thinking it impo&s;&s;ible (that two young men even now a|live &s;hould &s;o &s;uddenly be dead) could not imagine them breathle&s;&s;e till having in vain tried, they with the help of others who came by chance thither, laid them a-cro&s;&s;e their own hor&s;es, accompanying them with tears, bringing many witne&s;&s;es along with them, how the ca&s;e had happened, for fear they &s;hould be &s;u&s;pected to be the mur|therers of them.</P>
<P>When <HI>Labenus</HI> came down the &s;tairs, I looked out at the window, curious of mine own evill, and punctually heard what I have related unto you. Here <HI>Chri&s;anta</HI> &s;topped, and her eyes gu&s;hed out tears: <HI>Co|ralbo</HI> not able to re&s;train his: But after he had &s;ufficiently &s;atisfied the lawes of piety and friend&s;hip, he endeavoured with the be&s;t rea&s;ons he could to comfort her, &s;o that &s;he forbearing weeping went on. <HI>La|benus</HI> being come, found me as if I had been dead. And perceived both by the window being open, and by finding me in that ca&s;e he need|ed not to relate to me how the bu&s;ine&s;&s;e had happened, his office was to comfort me, and partly did: but could by no means per&s;wade me to return: he found no rea&s;on &s;ufficient to convince me, de&s;peration and grief being more efficacious orators then he. He writ pre&s;ently to <HI>Ceriale,</HI> and gave him an accompt of this mine unheard of re&s;olution, and made duplicated letters thereof, leaving one with the ho&s;t of that hou&s;e, and &s;ending the other by an expre&s;&s;e me&s;&s;enger, to the end that my va&s;&s;alls &s;hould not &s;uffer the pretenders to that inheri|tance to take po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion I being alive: and in ca&s;e they would not give faith to his relations, or did deny the letters of credence which I had formerly written by him, they &s;hould digg up the coffin in which it was e&s;teemed, I lay buried, that they might &s;ee there was none but <HI>Selucca.</HI> And that &s;ending Amba&s;&s;adors to me (as the ca&s;e required) they &s;hould come directly to <HI>Ephe&s;us,</HI> and there they &s;hould find me. <HI>Ceriale</HI> (as I told you) &s;hould have come again to this Inne, but I would not &s;tay for him. I rid the next morning towards the Sea &s;ide, and he meeting the me&s;&s;enger with the letter, and receiving
<PB N="133" REF="70">the Duplicate from the ho&s;t, riding after me, having done what hee could to alter my re&s;olution, accompanied me (finding me ob&s;tinate) to <HI>Idrentum</HI> where I embarqued my &s;elf, he having left orders with <HI>Labenus</HI> to not fail me. I &s;ailed into <HI>Greece,</HI> and being arrived to <HI>Ephe|&s;us,</HI> I got acquainted with <HI>Dianaes</HI> chief Prie&s;te&s;&s;e. I found many ob|&s;tacles again&s;t my admi&s;&s;ion. That I had been married, and had chil|dren, my comming to the Godde&s;&s;es &s;ervice in the autumne of my daies, driven to it, not by election, but by misfortunes, and for the&s;e cau&s;es I was not admitted. It much di&s;ta&s;ted me, I fell &s;ick, and was many times likly to die, and one of the chief things which per&s;waded me, the Gods were angry with me, was becau&s;e they would not hear my prayers in &s;uffering me to die, <HI>Ceriale</HI> returned within two months alter our arrivall, and four Amba&s;&s;adours with him, with &s;ome of my dam&s;ells and &s;ervants. They related to me the dammages of the Province, the pretences of the Dukes of <HI>Daunia,</HI> and <HI>Frento:</HI> that the Coffin was digged up in their pre&s;ence, in which was found the body of <HI>Selucca</HI> by all &s;ufficiently known. That they had with much difficulty conde&s;cended to &s;u&s;pend their pretences for a year, more for fear of war it &s;elf, then becau&s;e they had any will to do it. They be&s;eeched me to re&s;olve either to return (which they all humbly begg'd of me might be the re&s;olution) or to declare mine heir, to ap|pea&s;e the warrs and tumults which were like to ri&s;e between tho&s;e two Princes. The State of <HI>Sannio</HI> mine own patrimony free for me to leave to whom I plea&s;ed, &s;o he were of mine own blood. And tho&s;e two Princes, being in equall degree of con&s;anguinity with me, it would be impo&s;&s;ible, to take off their pretences, without my &s;peciall declaration. The repul&s;e given me by the Prie&s;te&s;&s;e, and the&s;e remon|&s;trances made me alter mine opinion, I embarqued and came hither to your great dammage and mine. And when I &s;hall &s;ee you in &s;ecure &s;tate of health, I will continue my voyage, to comfort my &s;ubjects, and live the remainder of my daies in &s;orrow, mourning after the lo&s;s of my Children. <HI>Coralbo</HI> had been attentively hearkning to all this di&s;cour&s;e, and hearing it to be ended, he &s;aid, Madam, is it an ordi|nary thing, that where pa&s;&s;ion raignes, rea&s;on be a &s;lave, and the do|mination tyrannicall? But in you it is not &s;o, each of them mu&s;t have their place pre&s;cribed without the&s;e di&s;orders. Rea&s;on ought not to change her e&s;tate, nor become of directrix, a &s;lave; but give Law, and govern the affections, as their Soveraign, perpetuall, and naturall La|dy. The po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion of your pa&s;&s;ion is ju&s;t, and rea&s;on which gave it her, con&s;ents thereunto, but not for perpetuity. It lies in rea&s;ons power to take it away, for fear, lea&s;t rebelling, &s;he &s;hould &s;eek to make a &s;tate apart, in prejudice of that Soveraignty, which rea&s;on cannot de&s;poil her &s;elf of, unle&s;&s;e &s;he cea&s;e to be what &s;he is. A wound which is given in a moment cannot in the &s;ame time be healed: Chirur|gery requires its progre&s;&s;es, and to clo&s;e it well, it is nece&s;&s;ary it &s;hould di&s;till and purge, to the end, that the humors being taken a|way, the danger may cea&s;e of its opening again. I (Madam) am of
<PB N="134" REF="71">the number of tho&s;e which being born men, pretend to live &s;uch who e&s;teem human nature ought not to harden it &s;elf again&s;t the mo|tion of pa&s;&s;ions; and under pretence of a bea&s;tly Stoick con&s;tancie, di&s;humanate or unman them&s;elves: for who&s;oever attains to the height of impa&s;&s;ibility in pa&s;&s;ions which annoy, attaines that of in&s;en&s;ibilitie in tho&s;e which delight. Wherefore he that hath no &s;ence of evill cannot have any of what is good; and the ad|vantage of not being afflicted in misfortunes, bringeth along this di&s;advantage with it of not rejoycing in pro&s;perities. I hold that wi&s;|dom alterable and fooli&s;h, which pretends to alter and make wi&s;e na|ture; when the effects thereof are to render men inhumane, churli&s;h, and &s;avage. If our pa&s;&s;ions then be &s;uch that rea&s;on permits them; If &s;ores ought to be purged before they heal, and if nature have made us to be pa&s;&s;ible, let us weep (for it is lawfull for us,) when we find our &s;elves afflicted, let us give vent to our affections, open the Cha|nells to our tears that they may not overflow us, and that which rea|&s;on cannot correct in you in an in&s;tant, time will con&s;ume it with plea&s;ure and by degrees in his progre&s;&s;es. <HI>Chri&s;anta</HI> wept bitterly hea|ring of the&s;e di&s;cour&s;es, when <HI>Coralbo</HI> thus went on. Madam, that which till now hath been allowable in you, is the payment due to blood and nature. But if you be &s;o ready to the&s;e, you ought not to deny the &s;ame readine&s;&s;e to Rea&s;on al&s;o. To her that cancells your debt and makes you no longer to remain a Creditor to them. <HI>Chri&s;an|ta</HI> did not well under&s;tand the meaning of the&s;e la&s;t words, where|fore &s;u&s;pending her weeping, &s;he prayed him to explain them. They are not ob&s;cure as I believe, an&s;wered <HI>Coralbo;</HI> You have by lamenting paid that which by a mother is due to Children, and the debt which rea&s;on cancells, is their not having paid to you, that which Children owe to a mother, wherefore the injury received ought in their lo&s;&s;e to bring gain unto you. You have lo&s;t two children to whom you gave life, you have delivered and quit your &s;elf of two Enemies that would have procured your death. If therefore they &s;o inhumanly failed in their filiall duty towards you, wherefore &s;hall you &s;o ten|derly &s;uperabound in motherly affection towards them? That your love hath more power then their ingratitude is laudable in you, but you will de&s;erve more commendation, if mixing them both together you make a Catapla&s;me therewith to cure your pa&s;&s;ions. Ah Prince <HI>Coralbo</HI> an&s;wered the Dutche&s;&s;e) you are not yet a Father, and if you were, yet were you not capable of a Mothers pa&s;&s;ions: I confe&s;&s;e my Children have de&s;erved ill at my hands, but I mu&s;t likewi&s;e confe&s;&s;e, they could not evacuate in me the affections of nature. I am not only with you of that &s;ect which condemnes the privation of pa&s;&s;ions, but al&s;o am with tho&s;e who e&s;teem it to be contrary to the pre&s;criptions of everla&s;ting providence, if man &s;hall have no feeling of the lo&s;&s;e of a friend, vain will be both the name and all manner of friendly affecti|on. Hatred and love will be indifferent, and all things indifferent though naturally &s;ubordinate to one of the&s;e pa&s;&s;ions. If pa&s;&s;ions in evill have their &s;orrows, in good they have their delights; and hu|man
<PB N="135" REF="71">nature is compounded no le&s;s (as far as concernes the &s;pirit) of the&s;e two contraries, then the body is of the four Elements, contra|ry among&s;t them&s;elves. If I live, it is becau&s;e living is plea&s;ing to me; neither hath the con&s;ervation of this life any means, but hath its be|ing from &s;ome &s;weetne&s;s. Tho&s;e who undertake to live &s;piritually, and that abhor worldly delights, are not without plea&s;ures, the con|templation of divine things is their delight. When nature (we being arived to old age) begins to be weary of us, it takes away out ta&s;t, to the end that being weary of her, it may not grieve us to die. <HI>Finally, If it were not enough for man to moderate his affections, but that he might (when he would) leave them, (granted that the &s;oules retaine the habits of vices and vertues.) God had failed in his power, that happening which he did not fore-&s;ee, &s;eeing that having erected Paradice for glory, and Hell for puni&s;hment; Glory not delighting, nor puni&s;hment afflicting, he had need either to correct nature, or make new orders in reward and puni&s;hment.</HI> I accept therefore of your coun&s;ell my <HI>Celio,</HI> I di&s;po&s;e my &s;elf not to renounce, but to moderate my affections; and &s;o doing, I hope none &s;hall have cau&s;e to complain of me. Not nature, having made me &s;en&s;ible of its motions. Nor rea&s;on, I running with open armes to receive its Oracles. Now that which I de&s;ire at your hands is, that &s;ince you have heard my mi&s;-for|tunes, you will be plea&s;ed to let me know your adventures. <HI>Coralbo</HI> did not deny her, and beginning at his departure from her, he rela|ted all had happened to him to that in&s;tant; concealing nothing but his love. He &s;aid he was going into <HI>Sardinia,</HI> to give &s;atisfaction for the favours he had received from Prince <HI>Polimero,</HI> and then to go about in the world, till the fates having had their cour&s;e, would be plea&s;ed to call him to &s;ome re&s;t. But that having had the fortune to meet her, laying all other journeys a part, he was re&s;olved to accompany her in her voyage to <HI>Sannio. Chri&s;anta</HI> heard him with affectuous intention. She refu&s;ed (but with very thankfull and courteous words) his com|pany, remon&s;trating to him the report which had formerly been rai|&s;ed upon the love &s;he had born him, and how he was hated for the death of <HI>Cripa&s;&s;o,</HI> both of too much jeopardy and danger. That &s;he was doubly grieved at his being wounded, &s;he being con|&s;trained thereby to &s;tay in <HI>Ericu&s;a,</HI> and di&s;cover unto others the continuation of their love: But that having many dayes &s;ince &s;ent home the Amba&s;&s;adours, &s;he cared the le&s;&s;e for it, being &s;ecure of the good inclination of her &s;ervants, by whom he al&s;o was unfeignedly honoured, having heard of his greatne&s;&s;e, and of the title of Prince which he mo&s;t de&s;ervedly bore. She de&s;ired him to re&s;t a&s;&s;ured of her good will, and that &s;ave her honour, he &s;hould make u&s;e of her, and her fortunes at any time. That di&s;a&s;ters had not changed her love, but her pa&s;&s;ions, to love him for time to come as her Child, &s;o that as Mother, &s;he did at pre&s;ent offer her &s;elf to him; that at her return home, &s;he mu&s;t live after the manner of a widow as &s;he was, and with|out Children: To wa&s;h away the &s;pots &s;he had been &s;tained by, the &s;u&s;|pected love &s;he formerly had born him. <HI>Coralbo</HI> could hardly con&s;ent to
<PB N="136" REF="72">leave her alone; but being convinced by rea&s;ons, he attended to the cure of his wounds, and they requiring a long cure, having not long after cau&s;ed a Ve&s;&s;el to be prepared, he would (how&s;oever again&s;t her will) go away, to the end that long delaying might do him no wrong.</P>
<P>There were many teares &s;hed at this &s;eparation, both leaving <HI>Eri|cu&s;a,</HI> and going from thence &s;everall wayes. The Dutche&s;s was with extraordinary honour received in <HI>Sannio,</HI> reducing her &s;elf to &s;o vir|tuous and exemplary a life; that &s;he was reverenced by all, though at la&s;t the former calamities, and the longing de&s;ire &s;he alwayes had after <HI>Coralbo,</HI> were in few years the cau&s;e of her death. A hidden and repre&s;&s;ed love in a woman re&s;olved to hone&s;ty, being a poy&s;on which by little and little con&s;umes, and kills: <HI>Coralbo</HI> had taken the Chi|rurgion of <HI>Ericu&s;a</HI> with him; and having the &s;ame conveniency with him aboord as he had on Land, being furni&s;hed with all he wanted, he advanced &s;o far, that coa&s;ting all <HI>Italy</HI> from Port to Port (to &s;ecure him&s;elf from bad weather during his indi&s;po&s;ition) he came to <HI>Sici|lia,</HI> wanting but little of being quite healed. There hearing of the departure of the bani&s;ht Lady from <HI>Parthenope,</HI> he pa&s;&s;ed on to <HI>Sar|dinia,</HI> a little after the death of the old King, where he was entertain|ed by the new one <HI>Polimero,</HI> and <HI>Eromena</HI> his wife, with all manner of curte&s;ies. There were &s;ome few days before arrived Letters from <HI>Lindadori,</HI> with news of her pa&s;&s;ing over into <HI>Lu&s;itania;</HI> &s;o that he framing an excu&s;e of going to &s;ee <HI>Liarta,</HI> and bringing back the Prin|ce&s;s from thence, imbarqued for <HI>Iberia,</HI> and finding her in <HI>Lanco|bridge</HI> Champion of his honour; if he had not loved her before, this very curte&s;ie would have been &s;ufficient to oblige him to adore her. Wherefore as &s;oon as he had lei&s;ure to &s;peak, delivering her the Let|ters he had brought with him out of <HI>Sardinia:</HI> he &s;aid unto her, (Ma|dam) after that in Aegypt I knew your valour, before I knew the greatne&s;&s;e of your &s;tate, I was enflamed with &s;o prudent a de&s;ire to &s;erve you, that I could hardly re&s;olve my &s;elfe to &s;tay in that Coun|try, being not able in your ab&s;ence to execute, &s;o good an intention: and though I &s;everall times thought to abandon the intere&s;ts I had there, yet I did not, doubting lea&s;t the lo&s;ing the opportunity of re|covering my Kingdom, might be imputed to be for want of courage, and con&s;equently I &s;hould render me unworthy of profe&s;&s;ing my &s;elf to be your &s;ervant. Now fortune (by the death of King <HI>P&s;emiti|des</HI>) having over-thrown all my de&s;igns, I ha&s;ted to find you out. I had in <HI>Sicilia</HI> advice of your departure from <HI>Parthenope:</HI> I &s;ailed into <HI>Sardinia,</HI> where from the King your Father I was told of your com|ming into this Country; and obtained of him tho&s;e Letters which I have pre&s;ented you. I came, and while I was &s;tudying in what I might &s;erve you, I find my &s;elf in &s;uch manner obliged by you at <HI>Lanco|bridge,</HI> that though fortune, and the &s;tars &s;hould all con&s;pire in my behalf, I &s;hall not know how to come out of your debt; &s;o much did you oblige me, by that your generous act of defending mine honour
<PB N="137" REF="72">again&s;t the Lord of <HI>Ithaca.</HI> Let the confe&s;&s;ing of my debt, Madam, avail &s;omething with you, &s;eeing I &s;hall never be able to pay it other|wi&s;e, but with rendring you mo&s;t humble thanks, and a&s;&s;uring you, that if <HI>Coralbo</HI> was acquired by you, by the merits of your virtue, he is now more then ever yours, &s;ubjected unto you by the favour you have been plea&s;ed this day to &s;hew him. And having thus &s;aid, bow|ing his knee to the ground, he &s;uddainly ki&s;&s;ed her hand: <HI>Lindadori</HI> had ever &s;ince her being in Aegypt, pre&s;erved (not without delight) in her mind <HI>Coralbo's</HI> feature and behaviour, having not met with any &s;ince that had liked her &s;o well: and though in love affairs &s;he was rather cold then otherwi&s;e, yet nature did not fail in her orders, and though &s;he could not fix a violent affection in her; yet &s;he be&s;prink|led her with an affectionate kind of amity, which alone &s;erved for a foundation of the future affection: wherefore having heard his words, and apprehending the &s;ence of them, &s;he remained through di&s;cretion in &s;uch manner &s;atisfied, that being of a free nature and void of art, &s;he openly an&s;wered him; Prince, If I knew my &s;elfe &s;uch as you repre&s;ent me, I might have occa&s;ion to think the better of my &s;elf. But finding my &s;elf much inferiour to that your pencill would make me &s;eem to be, I cannot without blu&s;hes hear your prai|&s;es, nor di&s;&s;emble how much I am obliged to you for it, unle&s;&s;e I &s;hould be ingrate. The pains which you have taken for me by coming &s;o long a voyage for my &s;ake, doth doubly bind me to you. I will be|lieve it done for the cau&s;e which you &s;ay, not becau&s;e I know my &s;elf worthy of it, but becau&s;e &s;o vertuous a Knight would not &s;o far aba&s;e him&s;elf as to &s;coffe a &s;illy maid without hope of gaining any thing, but only to plea&s;e his own fancy. Your coming is therefore accepta|ble to me; I much e&s;teemed the merit of your per&s;on, as &s;oon as I had the honour to know you: I commended your valour, &s;eeing the trialls of it, and confirmed my &s;elf in the opinion I had conceived of you, having di&s;covered you to be that Prince you are; I am exream|ly grieved for the King of Aegypts death, but doubly by rea&s;on of your intere&s;ts therein: I pray you to let us have from you &s;uch no|tice of the manner of it, as we can here but hardly have from fame, which arrives hither but weary and with unfeathered wings after &s;o long a voyage. <HI>Coralbo</HI> wery well &s;atisfied with &s;o prudent and graci|ous an an&s;wer, recited to her <HI>P&s;emitides</HI> his Tragedy, and then to make her merry, he recounted to her, <HI>Eritreas</HI> love to her, e&s;teeming her a Knight which they laughed at a long time together: Then re|plying the condolencies of his mi&s;-fortunes, he made her all &s;uch proffers as friends u&s;e to make to one another; meer effects of courte|&s;ie; her heart thankfull, not amorous. And though the ends of <HI>Coral|bo</HI> were fully known to her, yet &s;he was not moved thereby, &s;he re|mained &s;till the &s;ame; &s;he cared not, neither was carele&s;&s;e; &s;he did not contemn them, neither did they obtain that advantage for him, as a young amorous Knight might pretend in a Dam&s;els heart. After|wards going with the Prince&s;&s;e of <HI>Acarnania</HI> to vi&s;it <HI>Raico,</HI> they &s;taid
<PB N="138" REF="73">there &s;ome dayes, till the Amba&s;&s;adors being come, they went toge|ther to <HI>Caurio,</HI> they were honoured, and entertained according to the merit and virtue of &s;uch Princes. They found the Court full, the Kings brother yet a Child, the Queens &s;i&s;ters, but not <HI>Branichilde,</HI> who was lo&s;t at <HI>Almaderoes</HI> fir&s;t arrival, no body knowing how: and though &s;he was carefully &s;ought for, &s;he could never be heard of, being va|ni&s;hed away without the company or knowledge of any one. <HI>Linda|dori</HI> was received with particular honour, for the report of her vali|ant acts. <HI>Leuriana</HI> for their obligements to her, having been an effectu|all in&s;trument of delivering them from <HI>Laodomia,</HI> and <HI>Coralbo</HI> for <HI>Li|arta's</HI> friend&s;hip: Order being given for &s;uch pa&s;times as upon &s;uch occa&s;ions be not ordinary in all Courts: at which pa&s;times, if the two warriore&s;&s;es did enamour the world with their gallantry and valour, <HI>Coralbo</HI> advanced no le&s;&s;e in <HI>Lindador's</HI> favour, it being the only aime of all his actions. <HI>Liarta</HI> complained, that in &s;o long a voyage as they went together, he had concealed what he was, therefore making her di&s;courteous and uncivil, not having known him to be a Prince, but by the Marriners after &s;he was embarqued: But he excu&s;ed him&s;elfe, becau&s;e her afflictions at that time were great enough without being increa&s;ed by participating of others: <HI>Raico</HI> was brought into the Kings Palace at <HI>Oli&s;ippo,</HI> by the Kings order, and there entertained till the return of the Court, which was &s;ooner then was intended, becau&s;e the re&s;pects of <HI>Laodomia</HI> being cea&s;ed, it came thither within few days without going to <HI>Lancobridge.</HI> The fir&s;t thing the King and Queen did accompanied with the Princes, was to vi&s;it <HI>Raico.</HI> They found him &s;till in bed, &s;ore handled by the hardne&s;&s;e of the &s;tones, evill neigh|bours to his Hermitage. He was much jeered with it, and &s;he that mo&s;t vexed him was <HI>Leuriana.</HI> But he being freed from <HI>Laodomia,</HI> laughed at every thing, being glad he was rid of her at &s;o rea&s;onable a charge &s;aying, that whereas love unties his bands with arrows head|ed with lead, he had untied his with the blows of &s;tones. The Lord of <HI>Ithaca</HI> did not pa&s;&s;e away his time &s;o plea&s;antly, &s;eeing that alone, and infamous, he was lodged in one of the innermo&s;t lodgings, to the end he might not be heard of: &s;olitude and darkne&s;&s;e being fit pla|ces for him that hath lo&s;t his honour. As &s;oon as the Ve&s;&s;els were pre|pared, the King &s;ent <HI>Philarchus</HI> alone to <HI>Laodomia,</HI> who bringing her by night to <HI>Oli&s;ippo,</HI> &s;hipped her, recommended her to the winds. Her friend of <HI>Ithaca</HI> embarquing him&s;elf privately with her: The Port being found free the next day, there was great joy made of it, every one glad they were rid of &s;o wicked a woman. <HI>Liarta</HI> was crowned with generall applau&s;e, and the Trumpets being ended, each one re&s;olved to depart. <HI>Almadero</HI> had cau&s;ed two Gallies to be prepared, one for <HI>Lindadori</HI> and <HI>Coralbo,</HI> the other for <HI>Leuriara</HI> and <HI>Raico.</HI> The &s;eparation was with many tears. They went away toge|ther &s;ayling in company to <HI>Sardinia,</HI> where the two la&s;t tarrying ma|ny days, having refre&s;hed their Galley with new provi&s;ion, and pro|te&s;ted perpetuall amity to each other, followed their voyage towards
<PB N="139" REF="73"><HI>Epirus. Lindadori</HI> could not have arrived in <HI>Sardinia</HI> in a more conve|nient time; the world being unexpectedly fallen into &s;uch a re&s;oluti|on, as it had not been in for many thou&s;and years before: <HI>Archi&s;an|der,</HI> King of the innermo&s;t <HI>Aethiopia</HI> was come, and as &s;wift as light|ning had run thorow <HI>Tingitania,</HI> at that time when the <HI>Tingitanian</HI> thought him&s;elfe to be arrived to the end of being in effect, as well as in name, Univer&s;all King. <HI>Metaneon</HI> who had lawfully &s;uc|ceeded his Father in the Kingdom of <HI>Mauritania,</HI> &s;eeing his dreadful proceedings, and the great corruptions which were among&s;t the great ones of his Court, had a&s;&s;i&s;ted <HI>Archi&s;ander</HI> to his power, thinking by this means to draw him to a re&s;olution to a&s;&s;ault his &s;tate. But the fir&s;t advice thereof, came not till <HI>Coralboes</HI> arrivall into <HI>Sardinia. Tin|gitania</HI> was troubled (while&s;t it troubled others) by two mighty factions, one for the King, and the other again&s;t him: and he believing he had already e&s;tabli&s;hed his power again&s;t this la&s;t in &s;uch manner, as he &s;hould have no need to fear it, adventured either through im|prudency, or through &s;ome immature zeal, to di&s;content <HI>Sa&s;&s;irius</HI> a great Prince, who had with great hurt to him&s;elf been mo&s;t faithful to him, fearing le&s;t for the future he might fail him in &s;ervice, he ha|ving failed him in gratitude; and imagined that he being over|thrown, he might render him&s;elf ab&s;olute over both, a de&s;igne which proving unhappily in him, proved mo&s;t happy in <HI>Metaneon;</HI> for find|ing the &s;tate in &s;ome danger, not unlike to that of the <HI>Tingitanian,</HI> by rea&s;on of the authority and forces of them who did &s;hare parts in it; he reduced them to obedience, &s;ome by force, and &s;ome by councell, taking away their Governments, demoli&s;hing their Forts; &s;o that the Monarchie which at his coming to the Crown he found Ari&s;tocraticall, he reduced to an ab&s;olute one, and wholly depending upon Roall authority. The <HI>Mauripanians</HI> are a warlike Nation, inclined under the conduct of great ones to oppo&s;e their Kings. Not for the publick good (an ordinary pretence,) but upon particu|lar fancies. Whereupon that Kingdom which in it &s;elf is powerful, and had at all times atchieved every where notable enterpri&s;es, could never enjoy the fruits of them. In&s;olencie, Incon&s;tancie, Infide|lity in the managing of Money, and impatience in the managing of de&s;ignes being the true cau&s;es of its di&s;orders. It would have been &s;uitable to defend it &s;elf, and to overcome peradventure the <HI>Tingi|tanian,</HI> but the internall factions di&s;united its forces, and many times brought it near the point of peri&s;hing. The Kings never went about any de&s;ign, but it was broken by a civill war, whereby the armes which were prepared again&s;t forraign enemies, were divided and employed again&s;t one another, &s;ome for, and &s;ome again&s;t the Prince, &s;o that when he again intended to pacifie the Kingdom, he was forced to hearken to them who advi&s;ed old Governments to be aboli&s;hed, new ones added, to recompence &s;ome honours in&s;tead of puni&s;hing of them, and di&s;bur&s;e great &s;ummes of money to them under pretence of di&s;banding of &s;ouldiers: A foul and hardly corrigible abu&s;e, drawn
<PB N="140" REF="74">from the di&s;&s;olute liberty of that government. The Nobility being in great e&s;teem, depending upon Princes or the chief among&s;t them, who powerfull by the governments of Provinces and &s;trong holds, made the King weak, and contemptible. So that who&s;oever reads tho&s;e Hi&s;tories, finds in them continually the &s;ame humors, the &s;ame effects, no other difference but of per&s;ons and times. <HI>Metaneon's</HI> fir&s;t &s;cope was to &s;eparate them, and it proved as he would have it; For having beaten down one faction, which was generally odious to all the Kingdom, he cut the others way from part-taking one with another, whereupon finding too late, that by the transfixing of others, they had transfixed them&s;elves, at the &s;ame in&s;tant as they felt them&s;elves weakned, they found them&s;elves oppre&s;&s;ed: Therefore having no other remedy, they thought to re&s;tore unto the Kings brothers their common &mdash; upon hopes of unconceivable commotions, vain hopes, and more dangerous then the evill it &s;elfe. For they being fled to the <HI>Tingitanian,</HI> exiled and poor, in &s;tead of bringing him any bene|fit, they were burthen&s;ome to him, he being con&s;trained for his own reputation and honour, to entertaine them according to their quality, with appearance of no other advantage but of a vain, flying, and un|profitable fame. <HI>Metaneon</HI> contrary-wi&s;e having obtained with the ab|&s;olute &s;overaignty, an open declaration by the effects, that there were not forces &s;ufficient to re&s;i&s;t him, e&s;tabli&s;hed him&s;elf &s;o much the more; his reputation being able to keep the re&s;t within their bounds: In the mean time the complaints were great, they cryed out an ab&s;olure King was a dangerous thing, power by nature burthen|&s;ome, did tend towards tyranny, its centre. That an illimited autho|rity did not well agree with the &s;afety of mens goods and lives, im|pri&s;onment and other puni&s;hments, fitter to be inflicted by the lawes, then according to mens wills, and the humours of a Prince: where|unto the others an&s;wered, that when it was &s;poken of receiving pro|fits and favours, the King was cryed up, as not &s;ubject to the lawes: and if they would not formerly have been &s;ubjects to laws, why &s;hould he now be &s;ubject to &s;editions? &s;hall the rules of the&s;e be more apt to keep Kings within their bounds, then the Rules of the laws? a Prince could not be a Tyrant, unle&s;&s;e he were a wicked man: a &s;oul piou&s;ly organized, and that hath Regi&s;ters in its own Con&s;cience, would alwaies recede from evill. Tyranny to be perpetually unju&s;t, but inju&s;tice not alwaies tyrannical; and if a Prince &s;ometimes have run into it, he de&s;erves to be excu&s;ed for it. Many examples, though wicked, have cau&s;ed a publick &s;afety: the &s;ubjects not to be ex|empt from that fault; and that which is wor&s;er, their inju&s;tices are alwaies tyrannical, if they may: For a warlike people, and &s;ubject to alterations, an incertain danger of tyranny, to be better then a cer|tain one of civill war. That great enterpri&s;es and conque&s;ts were ne|ver atchieved but under Captaines or ab&s;olute Princes. And if mode|ration be difficult to all, in all things, it is much more &s;o in Govern|ments, and &s;o much the le&s;&s;e, the more they come neare to uni|tie.
<PB N="141" REF="74">Optimacy among&s;t Common-wealths, to be of a better form then a popular &s;tate, but Monarchy more excellent then that: One Tri|umvirate to have done more hurt, the power of thirty Citizens more then all the Tyrants that &s;ucceeded them. That there are Governments which with a Councel hurtfully circum&s;pect, are repugnant to an ab|&s;olute Authority, though conferred in time, while there was never any well governed Common-wealth, that upon urgent cau&s;es did not judge the &s;upream authority of a Dictator, or a Generall ne|ce&s;&s;ary. Temporizing in Councils, and depending irre&s;olute upon o|thers fancies, to be a cau&s;e of lo&s;ing opportunities which are mo|mentary, and with them is lo&s;t the reputation in warlike affairs, a bridge is made pa&s;&s;able to an enemy for the invading of a State, which before was not: a mo&s;t ab&s;urd thing, that a Generall by ver|tue of the Law of arms, &s;hould have authority for life and death over Souldiers, and that a Prince &s;hould not have it, by vertue of his Royall plenipotency over &s;editious men and Rebels: He &s;eeks the contempt of Kings, that would have him bound to the peoples arbi|trement, not that the &s;worn Laws be di&s;pen&s;able, but to bind him to all of them punctually, is as it were to bind his Scepter to his hand, &s;o that he may not be able to make u&s;e of either. The fundamentall Laws only to be indi&s;pen&s;able, and the people &s;tanding upon minute|ne&s;&s;es, and the Prince upon his prerogatives, is capable to over-throw a Common-wealth. That there are faults on all &s;ides, but they not all de&s;erve repeal, and alterations. That there is no Monarch &s;o ab&s;olute, but is &s;ubject to the Laws; God only free, being both the Law and Productor of nature. If the Prince doth not alwaies make u&s;e of his Prerogatives granted him by the people, becau&s;e he would not op|pre&s;&s;e them, no more &s;hould the people alwaies make u&s;e ob&s;tinately of its priviledges again&s;t its Prince, for doubt of offending him. To the&s;e vocall di&s;cour&s;es, were al&s;o added Expo&s;itions in writing, fal&s;e|hood more eloquent then truth, but the effects are not alwaies cor|re&s;pondent to the Tongue. There are very few that hating Tyranny in others do not love it in them&s;elves, being full of tyrannical de&s;ires; and having obtained of the Prince that which they de&s;ired, have not turned enemies to that liberty which they &s;eemed before &s;o fervent|ly to de&s;ire and defend: Yea, there was never any people that did &s;eem to be a lover of liberty, but its chief aim was the &s;ubjecting of the Laws, the Nobility, and Prince him&s;elf. The old decea&s;ed King of <HI>Numidia, Polemicus,</HI> was a Prince endowed with many vertues; and if his inclination to warring had but &s;ometimes been willing to yeeld to the nece&s;&s;ities of peace, he had had but few equalls. Courte&s;ie, mag|nanimity, and valour, having made him re&s;pected among&s;t all Prin|ces of his age. But the vertues which once come out of their Cen|ters, and begin to run towards an extream, if they be laudable &s;ome times, yet they be dangerous alwaies. <HI>Numidia</HI> is &s;cituate in the mid|de&s;t, between the <HI>Tingitanian</HI> and the <HI>Mauritanian:</HI> But on the &s;ide of <HI>Mauritania</HI> it lies &s;o open, that it received &s;everal times from thence
<PB N="142" REF="75">extraordinary dammages. Its dangers towards the <HI>Tingitanian</HI> were not alike; therefore that rea&s;on which they call of &s;tate, required a more indi&s;&s;oluble amity with one then with the other. <HI>Polemicus</HI> &s;up|po&s;ed that the reciprocal jealou&s;ies of the&s;e two great Kings, would be columnes for the pre&s;ervation of his &s;tate. His fall likely to be too prejudiciall to him that had let him fall. A &s;uppo&s;ition though not fal&s;e, yet alterable; policy teaching us, that Princes ought not to give them&s;elves over to fortune, as Game&s;ters do to a throw of Dice, but keep them&s;elves con&s;tant to him who can do them mo&s;t hurt. Nature hath given us an in&s;tinct, which if it were not moderated by rea&s;on, would make us in&s;upportable, namely to make u&s;e of our For|ces in&s;olently again&s;t him who is not &s;o &s;trong as we. If the <HI>Mauri|tanian</HI> be fallen into this defect again&s;t the <HI>Numidian,</HI> I can not tell (the fact being not very well known;) yet I will &s;ay, that <HI>Polemicus</HI> ought (&s;upending his inbred genero&s;ity) to have winked at it. Wrath without forces of onws one being vaine, and exceeding vaine, being grounded upon anothers &s;trength, e&s;pecially the <HI>Tingitanians,</HI> who&s;e di&s;&s;embling promi&s;es he had to his owne co&s;t, many times had triall of. The fir&s;t originall of the&s;e di&s;orders, was the death of the King of the inner <HI>Lybia,</HI> without Children. He had many kindred, but his true and lawful Heir was <HI>Retelmero,</HI> a Prince not onely bred, but born in <HI>Mauritania,</HI> and con&s;equently a creature of <HI>Metaneons,</HI> acknowledged and accepted for King, by the greate&s;t and founde&s;t part of the <HI>Lybians.</HI> It was not convenient for the <HI>Tin|gitanian,</HI> that one, who was a va&s;&s;al of the <HI>Mauritanian,</HI> &s;hould raigne in a Kingdome from which he might receive much dammage, and therefore intended not onely to exclude him, but to po&s;&s;e&s;s him&s;elfe of it, or in&s;tall &s;ome one there of the &s;ame blood, but &s;uch an one as &s;hould depend on him. <HI>Polemicus</HI> on the other &s;ide, who had by anci|ent pretences very well grounded right in that Kingdom, could not well endure that <HI>Metaneon</HI> &s;hould put <HI>Retelmero</HI> in po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion of that Kingdom, without having re&s;pect to him. For the dammage which he received thereby, though great, was &s;eparated by the &s;mall ac|compt which he &s;uppo&s;ed was made of him by &s;uch an act. Where|fore taking that re&s;olution which wrath did dictate unto him, he in|tended to try whether with the help of the <HI>Tingitanian,</HI> he might by force attain to tho&s;e pretences which he could not po&s;&s;ibly attain to by any other means. But while&s;t he fits him&s;elf for it, he feels him|&s;elf on a &s;uddain a&s;&s;aulted, fought with, and together with his &s;tate not onely oppre&s;&s;ed, but little le&s;&s;e then altogether lo&s;t. The <HI>Tingi|tanian</HI> on the other &s;ide being entred into the upper <HI>Lybia,</HI> and po&s;|&s;e&s;&s;ed him&s;elf of its <HI>Metropolis,</HI> while&s;t he a&s;pires to the lower (from the conque&s;t whereof depended the po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion of the whole) delay|ed &s;ending aid to him, weakly a&s;&s;i&s;ting him, not becau&s;e he &s;hould gather &s;trength, but becau&s;e he &s;hould be longer a lo&s;ing him&s;elfe, to the end that <HI>Metaneon</HI> being kept bu&s;ie, he might by others lo&s;&s;es ob|taine the end which he propo&s;ed to him&s;elfe in his gains. But it came
<PB N="143" REF="75">not to pa&s;&s;e as he would have it: for the inferiour <HI>Lybia,</HI> being well defended by a great troop of <HI>Mauritanians</HI> which was gotten into it before hand, and <HI>Polemicus</HI> being dead unexpectedly, his Son <HI>Parte|nius</HI> &s;ucceeded him, a Prince of &s;ingular vertues, who ballancing the <HI>Tingitanian</HI> perfidiou&s;ne&s;&s;e, with the weight of &s;o many dangers, a|greed with <HI>Metaneon,</HI> and a&s;&s;uring him of his &s;incere inclinations, he obtained of him the re&s;titution of what had been before gotten: receiving for the pretences which he had in the Kingdom of <HI>Lybia,</HI> what was between them friendly accorded for a recompence. This was the univer&s;al &s;tate, till the time as the Sun entred into <HI>Aries,</HI> the year of our <HI>Epoca</HI> 32. That which will &s;ucceed, the events will &s;hew. And if it be lawfull for us to give a contingent judgement on future contingencies: we may &s;ay, That if tho&s;e which have the reins of Go|vernment in their hand (I &s;peak not of Princes) &s;hall take their way along the paths of the publick intere&s;t, they &s;hall do that which hone&s;ty and duty directs them, rather then any private re&s;pect. No authority retained for a violent nece&s;&s;ity, can be pre&s;erved without nece&s;&s;ary violence. But if they go on the way of their own intere&s;ts, the pre&s;ervation of their per&s;ons and fortune will be in que&s;tion, and their ruine certain hereafter. <HI>Phaeton</HI> did not more certainly &s;et the earth on fire, being tran&s;ported by the fury of his Fathers hor&s;es; then they will fire it, tran&s;ported with the jealou&s;ies of their own &s;afety.</P>
<P>King <HI>Polimero,</HI> at the arrival of his Daughter and <HI>Coralbo,</HI> made the Drums beat all his States over in aid of his Brother, and they all with|out delay prepared for the enterprize. <HI>Eromena</HI> would not &s;tay at the &s;tern of Government, as her husband would have had her. Where|fore pa&s;&s;ing over with mighty armies into <HI>Mauritania, Coralbo</HI> had occa&s;ions fir&s;t to de&s;erve, then po&s;&s;e&s;&s;e his beloved <HI>Lindadori,</HI> as the world may hereafter hear by &s;ome better fa&s;hioned Pen then mine.</P>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
<PB REF="76">
<PB REF="76">
</DIV1>
</BODY>
</TEXT>
</EEBO>
</ETS>
