MENAPHON Camillas alarum to slumbering Euphues, in his melancholie Cell at Si­lexedra.

VVherein are deciphered the variable effects of Fortune, the wonders of Loue, the tri­umphes of inconstant Time.

Displaying in sundrie conceipted passions (figu­red in a continuate Historie) the Trophees that Vertue carrieth triumphant, maugre the wrath of Enuie, or the reso­lution of Fortune.

A worke worthie the youngest eares for pleasure, or the grauest censures for principles.

Robertus Greene in Artibus magister.

Omne tulit punctum.

LONDON Printed by T. O. for Sampson Clarke, and are to be sold behinde the Roy­all Exchange. 1589.

To the right Worshipfull and ver­tuous Ladie, the Ladie Hales, wife to the late deceased Sir Iames Hales; Robert Greene wisheth increase of Worship and vertue.

WHen Alexander (right worshipfull) was troubled with hottest feuers, Phillip the phisition broght him the coldest potions; extreams haue ther Antidotes, & the driest melancholy hath a moistest sanguin; wise Hor­tenzia midst hir greatest dumpes, either playd with hir Children, or read some pleasant verses: such as sor­row hath pinched mirth must cure. This considered; hearing (madam) of the passions your Ladiship hath vttered a late for the losse of your husband, a Knight in life worshipfull, vertuous, and full of honourable thoughts; discouering by such passionate sorowes the patterne of a louing and vertuous wife, whose ioyes liued in hir husbands weale, and ended with his life, I thought it my dutie to write this pastorall historie, conteyning the manifolde iniuries of fortune, that both your Ladiship might see her inconstant follies, and beare hir frownes with more patience, and when your dumpes were most deepe, then to looke on this little treatise for recreation: wherein there be as well humors to delight, as discourses to aduise. Which if your Ladiship shall vouch to accept, couering my pre­sumption and faultes which your wonted courtesie; I haue the wished end of my labors. In which hope re­sting, I commit your Ladiship to the Almightie.

Yours in all humble seruice, Robert Greene.

To the Gentlemen Rea­ders, health.

IT fareth with mee Gentlemen, as with Batillus the ouer bold poet of Rome, that at euerie winke of Caesar would deliuer vp an hundred verses, though neuer a one plausible, thinking the Emperours smile a priuiledge for his ignorance: so I hauing your fauor in letting passe my Pamphlets, feare not to trouble your patience with many works, and such as if Batillus had liued, hee might well haue subscribed his name to. But resting vpon your fauors I haue thus farre ad­uentured to let you see Camillas alarum to Euphues, who thought it necessarie not to let Euphues censure to Philautus, passe without requitall. If Gentlemen you finde my stile either magis humile in some place, or more sublime in another, if you finde darke Aenigmaes or strange conceipts as if Sphinx on the one side, and Roscius on the other were playing the wagges; thinke the metaphors are well ment, and that I did it for your pleasures, whereunto I euer aymed my thoughts: and desire you to take a little paines to prie into my imagination. Wherein if you shall rest inine, I shall euer as I haue done rest yours; and so I bid you farewell.

In laudem Authoris, Distichon amoris.

DElicious words, the life of want on wit,
That doo enspire our soules with sweete content;
Why haue your father Hermes thought it fit
My eyes should surfet by my hearts consent?
Full twentie Summers haue I fading seene,
And twentie Floras in their golden guise:
Yet neuer viewd I such a pleasant Greene
As this, whose garnisht gleades, compare denies.
Of all the flowers a Lillie once I lou'd,
Whose labouring beautie brancht it selfe abroade;
But now old age his glorie hath remoud,
And Greener obiectes are my eyes aboade.
No countrey to the downes of Arcadie,
Where Aganippes euer springing wells
Doo moyst the meades with bubling melodie;
And makes me muse, what more in Delos dwelles;
There feedes our Menaphons celestiall Mus [...],
There makes his pipe his pastorall reporte;
Which strained now a note aboue his vse,
Foretels, he'le nere more chaunt of Choas sporte.
Reade all that list, and reade till you mislike;
Condemne who can, so enuie be no iudge:
Noreede can swell more higher, lesse it shrike.
Robin thou hast done well, care not who grudge.
HENRIE V [...]CHEAR Gentleman.

Thomas Brabine Gent. in praise of the Author.

COme foorth you witts that vaunt the pompe of speach,
And striue to thunder from a Stage-mans throate:
Uiew Menaphon a note beyond your reach;
Whose sight will make your drumming descant doate:
Players auant, you know not to delight;
Welcome sweete Shepheard, worth a Schollers sight.
Smirna is drie, and Helicon exhal'd,
Caballian founts haue left their springing sourse,
Parnassus with his Lawrell stands appal'd;
And yet His Muse keepes on her wonted course:
Wonted said I? I wrong his paines too much,
Since that his pen before brought foorth none such.
One writes of loue, and wanders in the aire;
Another stands on tearmes of trees and stones:
When heauens compare yeeldes but the praise of faire,
And christ all can describe but flesh and bones:
Yet countrey swaynes, whose thoughts are faith and troth,
Will shape sweete words of wooll and russet cloth.
Mongst whom if I my Tityrus should chuse,
Whose warbling tunes might wanton out my woes;
To none more oftner would my solace vse,
Than to his Pastoralls their mortall foes.
Sweete verse, sweete prose, how haue you pleasde my vaine?
Be thou still Greene, whiles others glorie waine.
Finis.

To the Gentlemen Students of both Uniuersities.

CVrteous and wise, whose iudgements (not entangled with enuie) enlarge the deserts of the Learned by your liberall censures; vouchsafe to welcome your scholler-like Shepheard with such V­niuersitie entertainement, as either the nature of your bountie, or the custome of your common ciuilitie may affoord. To you he appeales that knew him ab extrema pueritia, whose placet he accounts the plaudite of his paines; thinking his daie labour was not altogether lauisht sine linea, if there be anie thing of all in it, that doth olere atticum in your estimate. I am not ignorant how eloquent our gowned age is growen of late; so that e­uerie moechanicall mate abhorres the english he was borne too, and plucks with a solemne periphrasis, his vt vales from the inkhorne: which I impute not so much to the perfecti­on of arts, as to the seruile imitation of vainglorious tragoe­dians, who contend not so seriouslie to excell in action, as to embowell the clowdes in a speach of comparison; thin­king themselues more than initiated in poets immortalitie, if they but once get Boreas by the beard, and the heauenlie bull by the deaw-lap. But herein I cannot so fully bequeath them to follie, as their idiote art-masters, that intrude thē ­selues to our eares as the alcumists of eloquence; who (moū ­ted on the stage of arrogance) think to outbraue better pens with the swelling bumbast of a bragging blanke verse. In­deed it may be the ingrafted ouerflow of some kilcow con­ceipt, that ouercloieth their imagination with a more than drunken resolution, beeing not extemporall in the inuen­tion of anie other meanes to vent their manhood, commits the disgestion of their cholerick incumbrances, to the spa­cious volubilitie of a drumming decasillabon. Mongst this kinde of men that repose eternitie in the mouth of a player, [Page] I can but ingrosse some deepe read Grammarians, who ha­uing no more learning in their scull, than will serue to take vp a commoditie; nor Art in their brain, than was nourish­ed in a seruing mans idlenesse, will take vpon them to be the ironicall censors of all, when God and Poetrie doth know, they are the simplest of all. To leaue these to the mercie of their mother tongue, that feed on nought but the crummes that fal from the translators tr [...]ncher, I come (sweet friend) to thy Arcadian Menaphon; whose attire though not so statelie, yet comelie, dooth entitle thee aboue all other, to that temperatum dicendi genus, which Tullie in his Orator tearmeth true eloquence. Let other men (as they please) praise the mountaine that in seauen yeares brings foorth a mouse, or the Italionate pen, that of a packet of pilfries, af­foordeth the presse a pamphlet or two in an age, and then in disguised arraie, vaunts Ouids and Plutarchs plumes as their o [...]ne; but giue me the man, whose extemporall vaine in a­nie humor, will excell our greatest Art-masters deliberate thoughts; whose inuention quicker than his eye, will chal­lenge the proudest Rethoritian, to the contention of like p [...]rfection, with like expedition. What is he amongst Stu­dents so simple, that cannot bring forth ( tandem aliquando) some or other thing singular, sleeping betwixt euerie sen­tence? Was it not Maros xij. yeares toyle, that so famed his xij. Aeneidos? Or Peter Ramus xvj. yeares paines, that so praised his p [...]ttie Logique? Howe is it then, out drowping wits should so wonder at an exquisite line, that was his ma­sters day labour? Indeede I must needes say, the descending yeares from the Philosophers Athens, haue not been suppli­ed with such present Orators, as were able in anie English vaine to be eloquent of their owne, but either they must bo­row inuention of Ariosto, and his Countreymen, take vp choyce of words by exchange in Tullies Tusculane, and the Latine Historiographers store-houses; similitudes, nay whole sheetes and tractacts verbatim, from the plentie of [Page] Plutarch and Plinie; and to conclude, their whole methode of writing, from the libertie of Comical fictions, that haue succeeded to our Rethoritians, by a second imitation: so that, well may the Adage, Nil dictum quod non dictum pri­us, bee the most iudiciall estimate, of our latter Writers. But the hunger of our vnsatiate humorists, beeing such as it is, readie to swallowe all draffe without indi [...]erence, that insinuates it selfe to their senses vnder the name of delight, imployes oft times manie thred bare witts, to emptie their inuention of their Apish deuices, and talke most superfici­allie of Pollicie, as those that neuer ware gowne in the V­niuersitie; wherein they reuiue the olde saide Adage, Su [...] Mineruam, & cause the wiser to quippe them with Asi­nus ad Lyram. Would Gentlemen & riper iudgements ad­mit my motion of moderation in a matter of follie, I wold perswade them to phisicke their faculties of seeing & hea­ring, as the Sabaeans doo their dulled senses with smel­ling; who (as Strabo reporteth) ouer-cloyed with such o­doriferous sauours, as the naturall encrease of their Coun­trey, (Balsamum, Amomum, with M [...]rrhe and Fran­kencense) sends foorth, refresh their nosthrills with the vnsauorie sent, of the pitchie slime, that Euphrates casts vp, and the contagious fumes of Goates beardes burnt; so woulde I haue them, beeing surfetted vnawares with the sweete sacietie of eloqu [...]nce, which the lauish of our copious Language maie procure, to vse the remedie of contraries; and recreate their rebated witts, not as they did, with the senting of slyme or Goates beardes burnt, but with the ouer-seeing of that sublime dicendi genus, which walkes abroad for wast paper in each seruing mans pocket, and the otherwhile perusing of our Gothamists barbarisme; so shoulde the opposite comparison of Pu­ritie, expell the infection of absurditie; and their o­uer-rackte Rhethorique, bee the Ironicall recreation of the Reader. But so farre discrepant is the idle vsage [Page] of our vnexperienst punies from this prescription, that a tale of Ihon a Brainfords will, and the vnluckie furmentie, wilbe as soon interteined into their libraries, as the best po­eme that euer Tasso eternisht: which being the effect of an vnde [...]cerning iudgement, makes drosse as valuable as gold, and losse as welcome as gaine, the Glow-worme mentio­ned in Aesops fables, namelie the apes follie, to be mistaken for fire, when as God wot poore soules, they haue nought but their toyle for their heate, their paines for their sweate, and (to bring it to our english prouerbe) their labour for their trauaile. Wherin I can but resemble them to the Pan­ther, who is so greedie of mens excrements; that if they be hangd vpin a vessell higher than his reach, he sooner killeth himselfe with the ouer-stretching of his windlesse bodie, than he wil cease from his intended enterprise. Oft haue I obserued what I now set downe; a secular wit that hath li­ued all daies of his life by what doo you lacke, to bee more iudiciall in matters of conceit, than our quadrant crepun­dios, that spit ergo in the mouth of euerie one they meete: yet those & these are so affectionate to dogged detracting, as the most poysonous Pasquil, anie durtie mouthed Mar­tin, or Momus eu [...]r composed, is gathered vp with greedi­nesse before it fall to the ground, and bought at the deerest though they smell of the friplers lauander halfe a yeere af­etr: [...]or I know not how the minde of the meanest is fedde with this follie, that they impute singularitie, to him that slanders priuelie, and count it a great peece of arte in an ink­horne man, in anie tapsterlie tearmes whatso [...]uer, to oppose his superiours to enuie. I will not denie but in scholler-like matters of controuersie, a quicker stile may passe as com­mendable; and that a quippe to an asse is as good as a goad to an oxe: but when an irregular idiot, that was vp to the eares in diuinitie, before euer he met with probabile in the Vniuersitie, shall leaue pro & contra before he can scarcely pronounce it, & come to correct Common weales, that ne­uer heard of the name of Magistrate before he came to [Page] Cambridge, it is no meruaile if euery alehouse vaunt the ta­ble of the world turned vpside down; since the childe beats his father, & the asse whippes his master. But least I might seeme with these night crowes, Nimis curiosus in aliena re­publica. I'le turne backe to my first text, of studies of de­light; and talke a little in friendship with a few of our tri­uiall translators. It is a cōmon practise now a daies amongst a sort of shifting companions, that runne through euery arte and thriue by none, to leaue the trade of Nouerint whereto they were borne, and busie themselues with the indeuors of Art, that could scarcelie latinize their necke-verse if they should haue neede; yet English Seneca read by candle light yeeldes manie good sentences, as Bloud is a begger, and so foorth: and if you intreate him faire in a frostie morning, he will affoord you whole Hamlets, I should say handfulls of tragical speaches. But ô griefe! tempus edax rerum, what's that will last alwaies? The sea exhaled by droppes will in continuance be drie, and Seneca let bloud line by line and page by page, at length must needes die to our stage: which makes his famisht followers to imitate the Kidde in Ae­sop, who enamored with the Foxes newsangles, forsooke all hopes of life to leape into a new occupation; and these men renowncing all possibilities of credit or estimation, to in­termeddle with Italian tran [...]lations: wherein how poore­lie they haue plodded, (as those that are neither prouenz all men, nor are able to distinguish of Articles,) let all indiffe­rent Gentlemen that haue trauailed in that tongue, discerne by their two penie pamphl [...]ts: & no meruaile though their home-born mediocritie be such in this matter; for what can be hoped of those, that thrust Elisium into hell, and haue not learned so long as they haue liued in the spheares, the iust measure of the Horizon without an hexameter. Sufficeth them to [...]odge vpa blanke verse with ifs and ands, & other while for recreation on after their candle stuffe, hauing starch­ed their beardes most curiouslie, to make a peripateticall path into the inner parts of the Citie, & spend two or three [Page] howers in turning ouer French Doudie, where they attract more infection in one min [...]te, than they can do eloquence all dayes of their life, by conuersing with anie Authors of like argument. But least in this declamatorie vaine, I should condemne all and commend none, I will propound to your learned imitation, those men of import, that haue laboured with credit in this laudable kinde of Translati­on; In the forefront of whom, I cannot but place that aged Father Erasmus, that inuested most of our Greeke Wri­t [...]rs, in the roabes of the auncient Romaines; in whose tra­ces, Philip Melancthon, Sadolct, Plantine, and manie other reuerent Germaines insisting, haue reedified the ruines of our decayed Libraries, and merueilouslie inriched the Latine tongue with the expence of their toyle. Not long after, their emulation beeing transported into England, euerie priuate Scholl [...]er, William Turner, and who not, beganne to vaunt their [...]inattering of Latine, in English Impressions. But amongst others in that Age, Sir Tho­mas Eliots elegance did seuer it selfe from all equalls, al­though Sir Thomas Moore with his Comicall wit, at that instant was not altogether idle: yet was not Know­ledge fullie confirmed in hir Monarchie amongst vs, till that most famous and fortunate Nurse of all learning, Saint Iohns in Cambridge, that at that time was as an Vniuersitie within it selfe; shining so farre aboue all o­ther Houses, Halls, and Hospitalls whatsoeuer, that no Colledge in the Towne, was able to compare with the tythe of her Students; hauing (as I haue hearde graue men of credite report) more candles light in it, euerie Winter Morning before fowre of the clocke, than the fowre of clocke bell gaue stroak [...]s; till Shee (I saie) as a pittying Mother, put too her helping hande, and sent from her fruitefull wombe, sufficient Schollers, both to support her owne weale, as also to supplie all other in­feriour [Page] foundations defects, and namelie that royall [...] ­rection of Trinitie Colledge, which the Vniuersitie Ora­tor, in an Epistle to the Duke of Somerset, aptlie tear­med Colona diducta, from the Suburbes of Saint Iohns. In which extraordinarie conception, vno partu in rem­publicam prodiere, the Exchequer of eloquence Sir Ihon Cheeke, a man of men, supernaturally traded in altongues, Sir Jhon Mason, Doctor Watson, Redman, Aschame, Grindall, Leuer, Pilkington: all which, haue either by their priuate readings, or publique workes, repurged the errors of Artes, expelde from their puritie, and set be­fore our eyes, a more perfect Methode of Studie. But howe ill their preceptes haue prospered with our idle Age, that leaue the fountaines of sciences, to follow the riuers of Knowledge, their ouer-fraught Studies, with trifling Compendiaries maie testifie: for I knowe not howe it comes to passe, by the doating practise of our Diuinitie dunces, that striue to make their Pupills pul­pet men, before they are reconciled to Priscian: but those yeares, which shoulde bee employed in Aristotle, are expired in Epitomes; and well too, they maye haue so much Catechisme vacation, to rake vp a little refuse Philosophie. And heere could I enter into a large fielde of inuectiue, against our abiect abbr [...]uiations of Artes, were it not growen to a newe fashion amongst our Na­tion, to vaunt the pride of contraction in euerie manua­rie action: in so much, that the Pater noster, which was woont to fill a sheete of paper, is written in the compasse of a p [...]nnie: whereupon one merelie affirmed, that prouerb to be deriued, No ponnie, no pater noster; which their nice curtalling, puts me in mind of the custome of the Scythians, who if they be at any time distressed with famin, take in their girdles [...], & swaddle themselues streigh­ter, to the intent no [...] beeing left in their in [...]ayles, [Page] hunger should not so much tirannnize ouer their stomacks; euen so these men opprest with a greater penurie of Art, do [...]ound their capacitie in barren Compendiums, and bound their base humors, in the beggerly straites of a hungry Ana­lysis, least longing after that infinitum which the pouertie of their conceit cannot compasse, they sooner yeeld vp their youth to destinie, than their h [...]art to vnderstanding. How is it then, such bungling practitioners in principles, [...]uld euer profite the Common wealth by their negligent paines, who haue no more cunning in Logique or Dialogue Latine, than appertains to the literall construction of either; neuerthe­lesse it is daily apparant to our domesticall eyes, that there is none so forward to publ [...] their imperfections, either in the [...] of glose or translations, as those that are more vn­learned than ignorance, and lesse conceiuing than infants. Yet dare I not impute absurditie to all of that societie, though some of them haue set their names to their simpli­citie. Who euer my priuate opinion condemneth as faultie, Master Gascoigne is not to bee abridged of his deserued e­steeme, who first beate the path to that perfection which our best Poets haue aspired too since his departure; where­to he did ascend by comparing the Italian with the English, as Tullie did Graecacum Latinis. Neither was Master Tur­benile the worst of his time, although in translating he attri­buted too much to the necessitie of rime. And in this page of praise, I cannot omit aged Arthur Golding, for his in­dustrious toile in Engli [...]ing Ouids Metamorphosis, besides manie other exquisite editions of Diuinitie, turned by him out of the French tongue into our own. Master Phaer like­wise is not to be forgot in regard of his famous Uirgil, whose heauēly verse had it not bin blemisht by his hautie thoghts England might haue long insulted in his wit, and corrigat qui potest haue been subscribed to his workes. But fortune the Mistres of change with a pitying compassion, respect­ing Master Stanihursts praise, would that Phaer shoulde fall that hee might rise, whose heroicall Poetrie infired, I [Page] should say inspired, with an hexameter furie, recalled to life, what euer hi [...]d barbarisme, hath bin buried this hun­dred yeare; and reuiued by his ragged quill, such carterlie varietie, as no hodge plowman in a countrie, but would haue held as the extremitie of clownerie; a patterne where­of, I will propounde to your iudgements, as neere as I can, being parte of one of his de [...]criptions of a tempest, which is thus

Then did he make, heauens [...]ault to rebounde, with rounce robble hobble Of ruffe ra [...]e roaring, with thwick thwack thurlery bouncing

Which strange language of the firmament neuer subiect before to our common phrase, makes vs that are not vsed to terminate heauens [...], in the accents o [...] any voice, est [...]eme of their triobuiare [...] preter, as of [...]me Thra­sonical huffe snu [...]e, for so terrible was his stile, to all milde eares, as would haue affrighted our peaceable Poets, from intermedling [...], with that quarrelling kinde of verse; had not sweete Master France by his excellent trans­lation of Master Thomas Watsons sugred Amintas, anima­ted their dulled spirits, to such high witted endeuors But I knowe not how, their ouer timerous cowardise, hath stoode in awe of [...]nuie, that no man since him, durst imitat [...] any of the worste, of those Romane wonders in english, which makes me thinke, that either the louers of m [...]diocritie, are verie many, or that the number of good Poets, are very small: and in trueth, (Master Wa [...]son except, whom I men­tioned before) I knowe not almost any of late dayes that hath shewed himselfe singular in any speciall Latine Poëm, whose Amintas, and translated Antigone may march in equipage of honour, with any of our ancient Poets. I will not say but wee had a Haddon whose pen would haue chal­lenged the Lawrell from Homer, together with Carre, that came as nere him, as Virgil to Theocritus. But Tho. Newton with his [...], and [...] Haruey, with two or three o­ther, is [...] the store, that is left vs at this hower. Epi­taph [...], and position Poets haue wee more than a good ma­ny, [Page] that swarme like Crowes to a dead carcas, but flie like Swallows in the VVinter, from any continuate subiect of witte. The essicient whereof, I imagine to issue, from the vpstart discipline, of our refor [...]atorie [...], who account wit [...], and poetrie [...]; whose error, al­though the necessitie of [...] might consute, which lies couched most closely vnder darke fables profunditie, yet I had rather referre it, as a [...] plea to diuines, than set it downe as a [...] p [...]sition, in my vnexperi­enst opinion. But how eu [...]r [...] iudgements, should decree in their [...] sessions of an sit, the priuat trueth, of my discouered Creede in this controuersie is this, that as that beast, was thought scarce worthie to bee sacri­fised, to the Aegiptian [...], who had not some or other blacke spotte on his skinne: so I de [...]me him sarre vnwor­thie of the name of a [...], & so consequentlie, to sacri­fice his endeuors to art, that is not a Poet, either in whole or in a parte and here peraduenture, some desperate quipper, will canuaze my proposed comparison plus vltra, reconci­ling the allusion of the blacke spot, to the blacke pot; which makes our Poets vndermeale Muses so mutinous, as euerie stanzo they pen after dinner, is full poynted with a stabbe. Which their dagger drunkennesse, although it might be ex­cused, with T am Marti quam Mercurio, yet will I couer it as well as I may, with that prouerbiall foecundi calices, that might wel haue been doore keeper, to the kanne of Silenus, when nodding on his Asse trapt with iuie, he [...] made his moist nosecloth, the pausing intermedium, twixt [...]uerie nappe. Let frugale scholares, and fine fingerd nouices, take their drinke by the ownce, and their wine by the halpe­worthes, but it is for a Poet, to examine the pottle pottes, and gage the bottome of whole gallons; qui bene vult [...], debet ante [...]. A pot of blew burning ale, with a fierie fla­ming tost, is as good as Pallas with the nine Muses on Per­nassus top: without the which, in vaine may they crie; ô thou my muse inspire mee withsome pen, when they want cer­taine [Page] liquid sacrifice, to rouze her foorth her denne. Pardon me Gentlemen, though somewhat merely I glaunce, at their imoderate follie, who affirme that no man can write with conceit, except he take counsell of the cup: nor would I haue you thinke, that Theonino dente, I [...]rme my stile a­gainst all, since I doo knowe the moderation of many Gen­tlemen of that studie, to be so farre from infamie, as their verse from equalitie: whose sufficiencie, were it as well seene into, by those of higher place, as it wanders abroade vnrewarded, in the mouthes of vngratefull monsters, no doubte but the remembrance, of Moecenas liberalitie, ex­tended to Maro, and men of like qualitie, would haue lefte no memorie to that prouerb of pouertie, Si nihil at tuleris, i­bis Homere foras. Tut saies our English Italians, the finest witts our Climate sends foorth, are but drie braind doltes, in comparison of other countries: whome if you interrupt with redde rationem, they will tell you of Petrache, Tasso, Celiano. with an infinite number of others; to whome if I should oppose Chaucer, Lidgate, Gower, with such like, that liued vnder the tirranie of ignorance, I do think their best louers, would bee much discontented, with the collation of contraries, if I should write ouer al their heads, Haile fellow well met. One thing I am sure of, that each of these three, haue vaunted their meeters, with as much admiration in English, as euer the proudest Ariosto, [...] his verse in Itali­an. What should I come to our court, where the otherwhile vacations of our grauer Nobilitie, are prodigall of more pompous wit, and choyce of words, than euer tragick Tasso could attaine too: but as for pastorall Poëmes, I will not make the comparison, least our countrimens cred [...]t should bee discountenanst by the contention, who although they cannot fare, with such inferior facilitie, yet I knowe woul [...]d carrie the bucklers full easilie, from all forreine brauers, if [...] subiectum circa quod, should sauor of any thing haugh­t [...]e: and should the challenge of deepe conceit, be intruded by any forreiner, to bring our english [...] the tutcsthone [Page] of Arte, I would preferre, diuine Master Spencer, the mira­cle of wit to bandi [...] line sor line for my life, in the honor of England, gainst Spaine, France, Italie, and all the worlde. Neither [...], the only swallow of our summer, (although Apollo, if his Tripos were vpagain would pronounce him his Socrates) but he being forborne, there are extant about Lon­don, many most able men, to reuiue Poetrie, though it were executed ten thousand times, as in Platos, so in Puritanes common wealth; as for example Mathew Roydon, Thomas Atchelow and George Peele, the first of whome, as hee hath shewed himselfe singular, in the immortall Epitaph of his beloued Astroph [...]l, besides many other most abso­lute [...] inuentions (made more publique by euerie mans praise, than they can bee by my speache) so the se­cond, [...]ath more than once or twise manifested, his deepe w [...]tted [...] in places of credit; & for the last, thogh not the least of them all, I dare commend him to all that know him, as the chi [...]fe supporter of pleasance nowe liuing, the Atlas of Poetrie, & primus verborum Artifex: whose first encrease, the Arraignement of Paris, might plead to your opinions, his pregnant dexteritie of wit, and manifold varietie of [...]; wherein ( me iudice) hee goeth a step beyond all that write. Sundrie other sweete Gentlemen I know, that haue vaunted their pens in priuate deuices, and triekt vp a companie of taffata fool [...] their feathers, whose beautie if our Poets had not peecte with the supply of their periwigs, they might haue anti [...]kt it vntill this time vp and down [...] the countrey with the King of Fairies, and di [...]de [...]uerie daie at the pease porredge ordina [...]ie with Del­phrigus. But Tolossa hath forgot that it was sometime sackt, and beggers that euer they [...] their fardles on footback: and in tru [...]h no meruaile, when as the deserued' reputation of [...] [...], is of force to inrich a rabble of counterfets; yet let subiects for all their insolence, dedicate a De profun­di [...] [...] morning to the preseruation of their Caesar, least their [...] returne them ere long to their [Page] mediocritie, and they bewaile in weeping blankes, the wane of their Monarchie.

As Poetrie hath beene honoured in those her fore-named professors, so it hath not beene any whit dispa [...]aged by William Warners absolute Albions. And heere Auhtoritie hath made a full point: in whose reuerence insisting, I cease to expose to your sport the picture of those Pamphleters, and Po [...]ts, that make a patrimonie of In speech, and more then a younger brothers inheritance of their Abcie. Reade fa­uourably, to incourage me in the firstlings of my folly, and perswade your selues, I will persecute those Idiots and their heires vnto the third generation, that haue made Art [...] of her ornaments, and sent Poetry a begging vp and downe the Countrey. It may be, my Anatomie of Absur­dities may acquaint you ere long with my skill in Surgerie, wherein the diseases of Arte more merrily discouered, may make our maimed Poets put together their blankes vnto the building of an Hospitall.

If you chance to meet it in Paules, shaped in a new sute of similitudes, as if like the eloquent Apprentice of Plutarch, it w [...]re propped at seuen yeeres end in double apparell, thinke his Master hath fulfilled couenants, and onely cancelled the Indentures of dutie. If I please, I will thinke my ignorance indebted vnto you that applaud it: if not, what rests, but that I be excluded from your courtesie, like Apocrypha from your Bibles?

How euer, yours euer: Thomas Nash.

Arcadia.
The reports of the Shepheards.

AFter that the wrath of mightie Ioue, had wrapt Arcadia with noysome pe­stilence, in so much that the ayre yeeld­ing preiudiciall sauors, seemd to be pe­remptory in some fatall resolution. De­mocles soueraigne and King of that fa­mous Continent pitying the sinister ac­cidents of his people, being a man as iust in his censures as royall in his possessions, as carefull for the weale of his country, as the continuance of his diadem, thinking that vn­peopled Cities were Corasiues to Princes consciences, that the strength of his subiects was the sinnews of his do­minious, and that euery crowne, must conteyne a care, not onely to winne honour by fortayne conquests, but in [...] dignitie with ciuill and domestical insights: Demo­cles grounding his arguments vpon these premisses, coue­ting to be counted Pater Patriae, calling a Parliament toge­ther, whether all his Nobilitie incited by summons made their repaire, elected two of his chiefe Lordes to passe vnto Delphos, at Apollos Oracle to heare the fatall sentence, ei­ther of their future miserie or present remedie. They hauing their charge, posting from Arcadia to the Tripos where Pi­thia sate, the sacred Nymph that deliuered out Apollos Dylonimas, offering as their manner is their orizons & pre­sents, as wel to intreate by deuotion, as to perswade by [...], they had returned from Apollo this doome.

When Neptune riding on the Southerne seas
shall from the bosome of his Lemman yeeld
Th' arcadian wonder, men and Gods to please:
Plentie in pride shall march amidst the field,
Dead men shall warre, and vnborne babes shall frowne,
And with their fawchens hew their foemen downe.
[Page]When Lambes haue Lions for their surest guide,
and Planets rest vpon th' arcadian hills:
When swelling seas haue neither ebbe nor tide,
When equall bankes the Ocean margine fills.
Then looke Arcadians for a happie time,
And sweete content within your troubled Clyme.

No sooner had Pithia deliuered this scroll to the Lordes of Arcadie, but they departed and brought it to Democles, who causing the oracle to be read amongst his distressed com­mons, found the Delphian censure more full of doubts to a­maze, than fraught with hope to comfort; thinking rather that the angrie God sent a peremptorie presage of ruine, thā a probable ambiguitie to applaud any hope of remedie: yet loath to haue his carefull subiects fall into the balefull labo­rinth of despaire, Democles began to discourse vnto them, that the interpreters of Apollos secretes, were not the con­ceipts of humane reason, but the successe of long expected e­nents; that Comets did portend at the first blaze, but tooke effect in the dated bosome of the destinies; that oracles were foretold at the Delphian Caue, but were shapte out and fi­nished in the Counsell house. With such perswasiue argu­ments Democles appeased the distressed thoughtes of his doubtful countrimen, and commanded by proclamation that no man should prit into the quiddities of Apollos answere, least sundrie censures of his diuine secrecie, shoulde trouble Arcadia with some sodaine mutinie. The King thus smoo­thing the heate of his cares, rested a melancholy man in his Courts; hiding vnder his head the double faced figure of Ia­nus, as well to cleare [...] skies of other mens conceiptes with smiles, as to furnish out his owne [...] with thoughts. But as other beasts leuell their lookes at the countenance of the Lion, and birdes make wing as the Eagle flyes: so Re­gis ad arbitrium totus componitur orbis: the people were mea­sured by the minde of the souereigne, and what stormes soe­uer they smoothed in priuate conceipt, yet they made haye, [Page] and cried holiday in out ward appearance: insomuch that e­uerie man repaired to his owne home, and fell either vnto pleasures or labours, as their liuing or content allowed them.

Whiles thus Arcadia rested in a silent quiet, Mena­phon the Kings Shepheard, a man of high account among the Swaines of Arcadie, loued of the Nymphes, as the pa­ragon of all their countrey youngsters, walking solitarie downe to the shore, to sée if any of his ewes and lambes were straggled downe to the strond to brouse on sea iuie, wherfore they take speciall delight to féede; he found his flockes gra­zing vpon the Promontorie Mountaines hardlie: whereon resting himselfe on a hill that ouer-peered the great Medi­terraneum, noting how Phoebus fetched his Laualtos on the purple Plaines of Neptunus, as if he had meant to haue courted Thetis in the royaltie of his roabes: the Dolphines (the swéete conceipters of Musicke) fetcht their carréers on the calmed waues, as if Arion had touched the stringes of [...] siluer sounding instrument: the Mermaides thrusting their heades from the bosome of Amphitrite, sate on the mounting bankes of Neptune, drying their waterie tres­ses in the Sunne beames. Aeolus forbare to throwe abroad his gustes on the slumbering browes of the Sea-God, as giuing Triton leaue to pleasure his Queene with desired melodie, and Proteus libertie to followe his flockes without disquiet.

Menaphon looking ouer the champion of Arcadie to see if the Continent were as full of smiles, as the seas were of fauouts, sawe the shrubbes as in a dreame with delightfull harmonie, and the birdes that chaunted on their braunches not disturbed with the least breath of a fauourable Zephi­rus. Seeing thus the accord of the Land and Sea, casting a fresh gaze on the water Nimphs, he began to consider how Venus was feigned by the Poets to spring of the froathe of the Seas; which draue him straight into a deepe coniecture of the inconstancie of Loue: that as if Luna were his [Page] load-starre, had euerie minute ebbes and tides, sometime o­uerflowing the banks of Fortune with a gracious look ligh­tened from the eyes of a fauorable louer, otherwhiles ebbing to the dangerous shelfe of despaire, with the piercing frowne of a froward Mistresse. Menaphon in this browne studie, calling to minde certaine Aphorismes that Auarreon had penodowne as principles of loues follies, being as déepe an enemie to fancie, as Narcissus was to affection, began thus to scosfe at Venus Deitie.

Menaphon thy mindes fauours, are greater than thy wealths fortunes, thy thoughtes higher than thy birth, & thy priuate conceipt better than thy publique estéeme. Thou art a shepheard Menaphon, who in féeding of thy flockes find­est out natures secrecie, and in preuenting thy lambes preiu­dice conceipt [...]st the Astronomicall motions of the heauens: holding thy sheep-walkes to yeeld as great Philosophie, as the Ancients discourse in their learned Academies. Thou countest labour as the Indians doo their Chrisocolla wher­with they trie cuerie mettall, and thou examine euerie acti­on. Content sitteth in thy minde as Neptune in his Sea­throne, who with his trident mace appeaseth euerie storme. When thou see [...] the heauens [...]rowne thou thinkest on thy faults, and a clcere skie putteth thee in minde of grace: the summers glorie tels thée of youths vanitie, the winters par­ched leaues of ages declining weaknes. Thus in a myrrour thou measur [...]st thy déedes with equall and considerate moti­ons, and by being a shepheard findest that which Kings wāt in their royalties. Enuie ouerlooketh thee, renting with the windes the Pine trees of Ida, when the Affrick shrubs wau [...] not a leafe with the temp [...]stes. Thine eyes are vaylde with content that thou canst not gaze so high as ambition: & for loue, and with that in naming of loue, the shepheard fell into a great laughter. Loue Menaphon, why of all follies that euer Poets fained, or men euer faulted with, this foolish ima­gination of loue is the greatest: Venus forsooth for her wan­ton escapes must be a Goddesse, & her bastard a Deitie: Cu­pide [Page] must be yong and euer a boy to prooue that loue is fond and witlesse, wings to make him inconstant, and arrowes whereby to shew him feareful: blinde (or all were not worth a pinne) to prooue that Cupides leuell is both without aime and reason: thus is the God, and such are his Uotaries. As soone as our shepheards of Arcadie fettle themselues to fan­cie, and weare the characters of Venus stampte in their for­heads, straight their attire must bee quaint, their lookes full of amours, as their Gods quiuer is full of arrowes; their eyes holding smiles and teares, to leape out at their Mistres fauours or her frownes: sighes must flie as figures of their thoughts, and euerie wrinckle must be tempred with a passi­on: thus suted in outward proportion, and made excellent in inward constitution, they straight repaire to take viewe of their Mistres beautie. She as one obseruant vnto Venus principles, first tieth loue in her tresses, and wraps affection in the tramels of her haire; s [...]aring our swains in her locks as Mars in the net, holding in her forhead Fortunes Calen­der, either to assigne dismal [...]fluence, or some fauourable as­pect. If a wrinckle appeare in her brow, then our shepheard must put on his working day face, & frame nought but dole­full Madrigalls of sorrowe; if a dimple grace her cheeke, the heauens cannot prooue fatal to our kinde hearted louers; if she séeme coy, then poemes of death mounted vppon déepe drawne sighes, flie from their master to sue for some fauour, alledging how death at the least may date his miserie: to be briefe, as vppon the shoares of Lapanthe the winds conti­nue neuer one day in one quarter, so the thoughtes of a louer neuer continue scarce a minute in one passion; but as For­tunes globe, so is fancies seate variable and inconstant. If louers sorrowes then be like Sisiphus turmoyles, & their fa­uours like honnie bought with gall; let poore Menaphon then liue at labour, and make estéeme of Venus as of Mars his concubine; and as the Cimbrians hold their idols in ac­count but in euerie tempest, so make Cupide a God, but whē thou ar [...] ouer-pained with passions, and that Menaphon wil [Page] neuer loue, for as long as thou temperest thy handes with labours, thou canst not fetter thy thoughts with loues. And in this Satyricall humor smiling at his owne conceipts, hee tooke his pipe in his hand, and betwéene euerie report of his instrument sung a stanzo to this effect.

Menaphons Song.

Some say Loue
Foolish Loue
Doth rule and gouerne all the Gods,
I say Loue,
Inconstant Loue
Sets mens senses farre at ods.
Some sweare Loue
Smooth'd face Loue
Is sweetest sweete that men can haue:
I say Loue,
Sower Loue
Makes vertue yeeld as beauties slaue.
A bitter sweete, a follie worst of all
That forceth wisedome to be follies thrall.
Loue is sweete.
Wherein sweete?
In fading pleasures that doo paine.
Beautie sweete.
Is that sweete
That yeeldeth sorrow for a gaine?
If Loues sweete,
Heerein sweete
That minutes ioyes are monthlie woes.
Tis not sweete,
That is sweete
Nowhere, but where repentance growes.
Then loue who list if beautie be so sower:
Labour for me, Loue rest in Princes bower.

[Page] Menaphon hauing ended his roundelay, rising vp, thin­king to passe from the mountaine downe to the valley, cast­ing his eye to the sea side, espied certain fragments of a bro­ken ship floating vpon the waues, and sundrie persons dri­uen vpon the shore with a calme, walking all wet and weary vpon the sands, wondring at this strange fight he stood ama­zed; yet desirous to see the euent of this accident, he shrow­ded himself to rest vnespied til he might perceiue what would happen: at last he might descrie it was a woman holding a childe in her armes, and an olde man directing her as it were her guide. These three (as distressed wrackes) preserued by some further forepoynting fate, coueted to clime the mo [...] ­taine, the better to vse the fauor of the Sunne, to drie their drenched ap [...]araile; at last crawled vp where poore Mena­phon lay close, and resting them vnder a bush, the old man did nothing but sende out sighes, and the woman ceased not from streaming foorth riuolets of teares, that hung on her cheekes like the droppes of pearled deaw vppon the riches of Flora. The poore babe was the touch-stone of his mothers passions; for when he smiled and lay laughing in hir lappe, were her heart neuer so deeply ouercharged with her present sorrowes; yet kissing the pretie infant, shee lightened out smiles from those cheekes, that were furrowed with conti­nual sources of teares: but if he [...]ried, then sighes as smokes, and sobbes as thundercracks, foreranne those showers, that with redoubled distresse distilled from her eyes: thus with pretie inconstant passions trimming vp her babie, and at last to [...]ull him a sleepe, she warbled out of her wofull breast thi [...] dittie.

Sephestias song to her [...].

Weepe not my want on, smile vpon my kn [...],
When thou art olde ther's griefe inough for the [...].
Mothers wagge, pretie boy,
Fathers sorrow, fathers ioy
[Page]When thy father [...] did see
Such a boy by him and mee,
He was glad, I was woe,
Fortune changde made him so,
When he left his pretie boy,
Last his sorowe, first his ioy.
Weepe not my want on smile vpon my knee:
When thou art olde ther's griefe inough for thee.
Streaming teares that neuer stint,
Like pearle drops from a flint
Fell by course from his eyes,
That one anothers place supplies:
Thus he grieud in euerie part,
Teares of bloud fell from his hart,
When he left his pretie boy,
Fathers sorrow, fathers ioy.
Weepe not my wanton smile vpon my knee:
When thou art olde ther's griefe inough for thee.
The wanton smilde, father wept;
Mother cride, babie lept:
More he crowde, more we cride;
Nature could not sorowe hide.
He must goe, he must kisse
Childe and mother, babie blisse:
For he left his pretie boy,
Fathers sorowe, fathers ioy.
Weepe not my wanton, smile vpon my knee:
When thou art olde ther's griefe inough for the [...].

With this lullaby the babie fell a sléepe, and Sephestia laying it vpon the greene grasse couered it with a mantle, & then leaning her head on her hand, and her elbow on her lap she fell a [...] to poure foorth abundaunce of plaintes, which Lamedon the old man espying, although in his face appea­red the mappe of discontent, and in euerie wrin [...]kle was a catalogue of woes; yet to chéere vp Sephestia, shrowding [Page] his inward sorrow with an outward smile, he began to com­fort her in this manner.

Sephestia, thou seest no Phisick preuailes against the gaze of the Basilisckes, no charme against the sting of the Taran­tula, no preuention to diuert the decree of the Fates, nor no meanes to recall backe the balefull hurt of Fortune: Incu­rable sores are without Auicens Aphorismes, and therefore no salue for them but patience. Then my Sephestia sith thy fal is high, and fortune low; thy sorrowes great, and thy hope little: seeing me partaker of thy miseries, set all thy rest vp­pon this, Solamen miseris, socios habuisse doloris. Chaunce is like Ianus double faced, as well full of smiles to comfort, as of frownes to dismay: the Ocean at his deadest ebbe returns to a full tide; when the Eagle meanes to soare highest, hee raiseth his flight in the lowest dales: so fareth it with fortune who in her highest extreames is most vnconstant: when the tempest of her wrath is most fearfull, then looke for [...]; when she beates thee with nettle, then thinke she will strewe thee with roses; when shee is most familiar with furies, her intent is to be most prodigall Sephestia. Thus are the ar­rowes of Fortune feathered with the plumes of the bird Hal­cione, that changeth colours with the Moone, which how­soeuer she shootes them pierce not so deepe but they may bee cured. But Sephestia thou art daughter to a King, exiled by him from the hope of a crowne, vanisht from the pleasures of the Court to the painfull fortunes of the countrey, parted for loue from him thou caust not but loue, from Maximus Se­phestia, who for thee hath susfered so many dissauours, as ei­ther discontent or death can affoord. What of all this, is not hope the daughter of time? Haue not starres their fauoura­ble aspects, as they haue froward opposition? Is there not a Iupiter as there is a Saturne? Cannot the influence of smi­ling Venus, stretch as farre as the frowning constitution of Mars? I tell thee Sephestia, Iuno foldeth in her brows the volumes of the [...]; whom melancholie Saturne de­poseth from a Crowne, she [...] aduanceth to a Diadem; [Page] then feare not, for if the mother liue in miserie, yet hath the [...] scepter for the sonne: let the vnkindnesse of thy father be bu­ried in the cinders of obedience, and the want of Maximus be supplied with the presence of his pretie babe, who beeing too young for Fortune, lies smiling on thy knee and laughs at Fortune: learne by him Sephestia to vse patience, which is like the balme in the Uale of Iehosaphat, that findeth no wound so déepe, but it cureth: thou seest alreadie Fortune be­gins to change her view, for after the great storme that rent our shippe, we found a calme that brought vs safe to shore; the mercie of Neptune was more than the enuie of Aeolus, and the discurtesie of thy father is proportioned with the fauour of the Gods. Thus Sephestia being copartner of thy mi­serie, yet do I seeke to allay thy martyrdome: beeing sicke to my selfe, yet do I play the Phisition to thee, wishing thou maist beare thy sorrowes with as much content, as I brooke my misfortunes with patience. As hee was readie to goe forwarde with his perswasiue argument, Sephestia fetch­ing a déepe sigh, filling her tender eyes with teares, made this replie.

Sweete Lamedon, once partner of my royalties, now partaker of my wants, as constant in his extreame distresse, as faithfull in higher fortunes: the Turtle pearketh not on barren trees. Doues delight not in foule cottages, the Lyon frequents no putrified haunts, friends followe not after po­uertie, nor hath sinister chance anie drugges from the Phi­sitians, Nullus ad amissas ibit amicus opes: and yet Lame­don the misfortune of Sephestia abridgeth not our olde con­tracted amitie, thou temperest her exyle with thy banish­ment, and she sayling to Styx, thou ferriest ouer to Phlege­ton: then Lamedon, saying as Andromache sayd to He­ctor Tu Dominus, tu vir, tu mihi frater eris. Thy aged yeres shalbe the calender of my fortunes, and thy gray haires the Paralells of mine actions. If Lamedon perswade Sephe­stia to content, Portia shall not exceede Sephestia in pati­ence; if he will her to keepe a low sayle, she will vayle al her [Page] shéete; if to forget her loues, shee will quench them with la­bours; if to accuse Venus as a foe, I wil hate Cupide as an enemie; and seeing the Destinies haue driuen thee from a [...]owne, I will rest satisfied with the Countrey, placing all my delights in honouring thee, & nursing vp my pretie wan­ton. I will imagine a small cotage to a spacious pallaice, & thinke as great quiet in a russet coate, as in royall habilli­ments: Sephestia Lamedon will not scorne with Iuno to turne hir self into the shape of Semeles nurse, but vnknowne rest carelesse of my fortunes: the hope of times returne shal be the ende of my thoughts, the smiles of my sonne shall bee the nourishment of my hart, and the course of his youth shall be the comfort of my yeres; euerie laughter that leapes from his lookes, shall be the holiday of my conceiptes, and euerie teare, shal furnish out my greeues, and his fathers funerals. I haue heard them say Lamedon, that the lowest shrubbes feele the least tempests, that in the valleis of Affrica is heard no thunder, that in countrey roomes is greatest rest, and in little wealth the least disquiet: dignitie treadeth vpon glasse, and honour is like to the hearbe Synara, that when it bloo­meth most gorgeous, then it blasteth: Aulica vita [...]ndi­da miseria, Courts haue golden dreames, but cotages sweet slumbres: then Lamedon will I disguise my self, with my cloathes I will change my thoughts; for being poorelie at­tired I will be meanelie minded, and measure my actions by my present estate, not by former fortunes. In saaying this the babe awakte and cride, and she fell to teares mixed with a lullabie.

All this while Menaphon sate amongst the shrubs fixing his eyes on the glorious obiect of her face, hee noted her tres­ses, which hee compared to the coloured Hiacinth of Arca­dia, her browes to the mountaine snowes that lie on the hils, her eyes to the gray glister of Titans gorgeous mantle, her alabaster necke to the whitenesse of his flockes, her teares to pearle, her face to [...]rders of Lillies interseamed with Ro­ses: to be breife our shepheard Menaphon that heeretofore [Page] [...] to loue, and as the The [...] of [...], [...] hee a [...] of Venus, was nowe by the wylie shaft of Cupid so intangled in the perfection & [...] excellence of Sephestia; as now he swore no [...] but Ve­nus, no God but [...], no [...] but Loue. Be­ing thus [...] with the pliant [...] of fancie, im­patient [...] his newe affections, as the horse that neuer before felt the spurre, he could not [...] his new [...] aued amors, but watching when they shoulde depart, perceiuing by the [...] of the olde man, and the teares of the Gentle [...], that they were [...], thought to offer anie helpe that [...] the compasse of his [...]. As thus he mused in his new passions, Lamedon and Sephestia rose vp, and re­solued to take their course which way the winde blew: pas­sing so [...] the mountaine to goe [...] out some [...], at last they [...], Lamedon [...] Menaphon: [...] to know the course of the countrey, hee [...] him [...].

Shepheard, for so farre thy attire warrants me; courte­ous, for so much thy countenance imports: if di [...]tressed [...] hath wronged, and the seas haue [...], ( [...] to liue and want) may with­out [...] so [...] ayde as to know some place [...] to [...] and weather-beaten [...], our [...] shall [...], [...] you [...] for [...] to their [...]. [...] [...], but not [...] to his eye, stood staring still on Sephestias face, which [...], [...] such a [...] the [...] of the [...] [...] this [...] [...], at last [...].

[...], your [...] I know [...] I [...] title [...]: Fortunes [...], and Kings are [...] chance [...]. [...] is to [...], [...] [Page] that are [...], are bounde to [...] are [...] [...] [...] follow me, and you shal haue [...], as a [...] may affcord. Lamedon and Sephestia were passing glad, and Menaphon led the way, not [...] onelie to [...] his [...] with the beautie of his new [...], but thought also to inferre some occasion of parley, to [...] whether her voyce were as melodious, as her face [...], hee therefore prosecuted his prattle thus. Gentlewoman, when [...] I saw you sitting vpon the Arcadian Promonto­rie with your [...] on your lappe, & this olde father by; I thought I had [...] Venus with Cupide on her knee cour­ted by Anchises of Troy: the excellence of your looks could discouer no lesse than Mars his paramour, and the beautie of the childe as much as the dignitie of her wanton: at last [...] by your [...] your childs shrikes, that ye were passengers [...], I lent you [...] to partake your for­rowes, and luke warme drops to signifie how I pitie ouer­charged persons, in lieu whereof let mee [...], countrey, and parentage. Sephestia seeing by the shepheards passionate lookés, that the swaine was halfe in loue, replyed thus; [...] shepheard, if my blubbered checkes did look like Venus at a blush, it was when the wofull [...] for her faire Adonis, my [...] is no Cupide but the sonne of care, Fortunes [...] in his youth, to bee I hope her darling in his age: in that your lookes saw our griefe, & your thoughts pitied our woes, our [...] shal [...] thanks (the [...] of sorrowes tenants) and our hearts praye that the Gods may be as friendly to your [...], as you fauou­rable to vs. My [...] is Samela, my countrey Cipres, my parentage meane, the [...] of a poore Gentleman nowe [...]: [...] we [...] by shipwrack, [...] inquire [...], [...] for thee to heare it, and a [...] for [...] it. The shepheard not daring displease his [...], as [...] threates hanging on her lippes, [...] them home to his house: as soone as they were [...] there, he began at the [...] to en [...]ertain [Page] them thus. Faire Mistres the flower of all our Nymphes that liue héere in Arcadia, this is my cotage wherein I liue content, and your lodging, where (please it you) ye may rest quiet. I haue not rich cloathes of Aegypt to couer the walls, nor store of plate to discouer anie wealth; for shepheards vse neither to be proud nor couetous: you shall find héere [...] and milke for dainties, and wooll for cloathing; in euerie cor­ner of the house Content sitting smiling, and tempering e­uerie homelie thing with a welcome: this if ye can brooke & accept of, (as Gods allow the meanest hospitalitie) ye shall haue such welcome and fare as Philemon and Bancis gaue to [...]upiter. Sephestia thankt him [...], and going into his house found what he promist: after that they had sate a little by the fire and were well warmed, they went to sup­per, where Sephestia fedde well, as one whom the sea had made hungrie, and Lamedon so plide his [...], that all sup­per he spake not one word: after they had taken their repast, Menaphon seeing they were wearie, and that sleepe chimed on to rest, he let them see their lodging, and so gaue them the good night. Lamedon on his flocke bedde, and Sephestia on her countrey couch were so wearie, that they slept well: but Menaphon, poore Menaphon neither asked his swaynes for his sheepe, nor tooke his mole-spade on his necke to see his pastures; but as a man pained with a thousand passions, drenched in distresse, and ouerwhelmed with a multitude of vncouth cares, he sate like the pictures that Perseus tourned with his Gorgons head into stones. His sister Carmela kept his house, (for so was the Countrey wench called) and shee seeing her brother sit so malcontented, stept to her [...] and fetcht a little beaten spice in an olde bladder, she sparde no euening [...], but went amongst the cream bowles, and made him a posset. But alas, Loue had so [...] vp the shep­heards stomacke, that none would down with Menaphon: Carmela séeing her brother refuse his spicte drinke, thought all was not well, and therefore sate downe and wept; to be short, she blubbered and he sightht, and his men that c [...]me in [Page] and sawe their master with a kercher on his head mournde; so that amongst these swaines there was such melodie, that Menaphon tooke his bow and arrowes and went to bedde: where casting himselfe, he thought to haue beguiled his pas­sions with some swéete slumbers. But Loue that smiled at his newe interteined champion, sitting on his beddes head, prickt him forward with new desires; charging Morpheus, Phobetor, and Icolon the Gods of sleepe, to present [...] his closed eies the singular beautie and rare perfections of Samela: (for so will we now call her) in that the Idea of her excellence, forst him to breath out scalding sighes smothered within the fornace of his thoughts, which grew into this or the like passion.

I had thought Menaphon, that he which weareth the bay leafe had béen free from lightening, and the Eagles [...] a preseruatiue against thunder; that labour had been enemie to loue, and the eschewing of idlenesse an Antidote against fancie: but I see by proofe there is no adamant so harde, but the blood of a [...] will make soft; no fort so wel defenced, but strong batterie will enter; nor [...] hart so pliant to rest­lesse labours, but inchantments of loue will ouercome. Un­fortunate Menaphon, that a late thoughtst Venus a strum­pet and her sonne a bastard, now must thou offer incense at her shrine, and sweare Cupide no lesse than a God: thou hast reason Menaphon; for hee that liues without loue, liues without life; presuming as Narcissus to hate all, and beeing like him at length despised of all. Can there bee a sweeter blisse than beautie, a greater heauen than her heauenly per­fections that is mistres of thy thoughts? If the sparkle of her eyes appeare in the night, the starres blush at her bright­nesse: if her haire glister in the daye, Phoebus puts off his wreath of diamonds, as ouercome with the shine of her tres­ses; if she walke in the [...], Flora seeing her face, bids al her glorious flowers close themselues, as being by her beau­tie disgraced; if her alabaster necke appeere, then Hiems couereth his snowe, as surpassed in whitenesse. To be shorte [Page] Menaphon, if Samela had appeared in Ida, Iuno for maie­stie, Pallas for wisedome, and Venus for beautie had let my Samela haue the supremacie: why shouldest thou not then loue, and thinke there is no life to loue, seeing the end of loue [...] the possefsion of such a heauenly Paragon? But what of this Menaphon, hast thou anie hope to enioy her person, she is a widdow, true, but too high for thy fortunes; she is in di­stresse, ah Menaphon, if thou hast anie sparke of comfort, this must set thy hope on fire. Want is the load stone of af­fection, distresse forceth deeper than Fortunes frownes, and such as are poore will rather loue than want reliefe, fortunes frownes are whetstones to fancie: and as the horse starteth at the spurre, so loue is [...] forward with distresse. Same­la is ship wrackt, Menaphon relieues her; she wants, he sup­plies with wealth; he sues for loue, either must she grant, or buy deniall with perpetuall repentance. In this [...] the poore shephearde, and with that Menaphon laide head downe the pillow and toke a sounnd nappe, sleeping out fan­cie, with a good [...].

As soone as the sunne appeared the shepheard got him vp, and fed fat with this hope, went merely with his men to the foldes, and there letting foorth his sh [...]eepe, after that hee had appointed where they should graze, returned home, and loo­king when his guests should rise, hauing [...] the last night went roundly to his breakfast: by that time he [...] ended his desiune, Lamedon was gotten vp, and so was Samela. A­gainst their rising Carmela had showen her cookerie, & Me­naphon tired in his russet iacket, his redde [...] of cham­let, his blew bonnet, and his round flop of countrey cloth, be­stirred him, as euerie [...] had been set to a sundrie office. Samela no sooner came out of her chamber, but Menaphon as one that claimed pitie for his passions, bad her good mor­row with a firme louers looke: Samela knowing the fowle by the feather, was able to cast his disease without his wa­ter, [...] that Cupide had caught the poore shepheard in his net, and vnles he sought quickly to break out of the snare [Page] would make him a tame foole: faire lookes she gaue him, & with a smiling sorow discouered how she grieued at his mis­fortune, and yet fauoured him. Well, to breakfast they went Lamedon and Samela fed hard, but Menaphon like the Argiue in the Date gardens of Arabia, liued with the con­templation of his Mistres beautie [...] the Salamander liueth not without the fire, the Herring from the water, the Mole from the earth, nor the Cameleon from the aire, nor coulde Menaphon liue from the sight of his Samela; whose breath was perfumed aire, whose eyes were fire wherein he deligh­ted to [...], whose heart the earthlie Paradice wherein hee desired to [...] the essence of his loue and affection: thus did the poore shepheard bathe in a kinde of blisse, whiles his eye feeding on his mistres face, did surfet with the excellen­cie of her perfection. So long he gazde, that at length break­fast was ended, [...] he [...] to [...] her [...], first put her childe to nurse, and then led her forth to see his folds; thinking with the sight of his flockes to [...] her, whose mindehad r [...]ather haue chosen anie misfortune, than haue dei­ned her eyes on the face and feature of so lowe a peasant. Well, abroad they went, Menaphon with his shéephooke fringed with cruell, to [...] he was [...] of the [...], Lamedon and Samela after: plodding thus ouer the gréene fields, at last they came to the mountains where Menaphōs flockes grazed, and there he [...] vnto Samela thus; I tell thee faire Nymph, these Plaines that thou séest stretch­ing Southward, are [...] belonging to Menaphon: there growes the ciutfoyle, and the hyacinth, the [...], the primrose, and the [...], which my flockes shall spare for flowers to make thee garlands, the milke of my ewes shall be meate for thy pretie wanton, the wool of the fat weathers that seemes as fine as the fleece that Iason fet from Colchos, shall serue to make Samela webbes withall; the mountaine tops shall be thy mornings walke, and the shadie valleiee thy euenings arbour: as much as Menaphon owes shall be at Samelas command, if she like to liue with Menaphon. This [Page] was spoken with such déepe effects, that Samela could scarce kéepe her from smiling, yet she couered her conceipt with a sorrowful countenance, which Menaphon espying, to make her merrie, and rather for his own aduantage, seeing Lame­don was a sléepe, tooke her by the hand and sate downe, and pulling foorth his pipe, began after some melodie to carroll out this roundelay.

Menaphons roundelay.

When tender ewes brought [...]ome with e [...]ening Sunne
Wend to their foldes,
And to their [...]
The shepheards trugde when light of day is done.
[...]
The Eagle Ioues faire bird did pearch,
There resteth hee.
A little flie his harbor then did search,
And did presume (though others laught thereat)
To pearch where as the princelie Eagle sat.
The Eagle [...], and shooke her royall wings,
And chargde the Flie
From thence to hie:
Afraid in hast the little creature flings,
Yet seekes againe
Fearfull to pearke him by the Eagles side.
With moodie vaine
The speedie post of Ganimede replide;
Vassaile auant or with my wings you die,
1st fit an Eagle seate him with a Flie?
The Flie [...] pitie, still the Eagle [...],
The sillie Flie
Readie to [...]
[...], displacte, fell groueling to the ground.
[Page]The Eagle sawe
And with a royall minde said to the Flie,
Be not in awe,
I scorne by me the meanest creature die;
Then seate thee heere: the ioyfull Flie vp flings,
And sate safe shadowed with the Eagles wings.

As soone as Menaphon had ended this roundelay, turn­ing to Samela, after a countrey blush, he began to court her in this homely fashion; What thinke you Samela of the Ea­gle for this royall d [...]eede? That he falsified the olde Prouerbe Aquila non capit muscas. But I meane Samela are you not in opinion, that the Eagle giues instance of a princelie reso­lution, in preferring the safetie of a Flie before the credit of her royall Maiestie? I thinke Menaphon that high minds; are the shelters of [...], and Kings seates are couerts for distressed persons; that the Eagle in shrowding the Flie did well, but a little forgot her honour. But how thinke you Sa­mela, is not this proportion to be obserued in loue: I gesse no, for the Flie did it not for loue, but for succour. Hath loue then respect of circumstance: Els it is not loue, but lust; for where the parties haue no simpathie of Estates, there can no firme loue be [...]; discord is reputed the mother of diui­sion, and in nature this is an vuresuted principle, that it fal­teth which faileth in vniformitie. He that [...] flo­wers vpon the Nettle marreth the smell; who [...] to tie the Lambe and the Lion in one tedder maketh a brawle; equall fortunes are loues fauourites, and therefore shoulde fancie bee alwayes limitted by Geometricall proportion; least if young matching with olde, [...] and frost fall at a combate: and if rich with poore there happe manie daunge­rous and brauing obiections. Menaphon [...] nipte in the pate with this [...], yet like a tall souldier stoode to his tackling, and made this aunswere; Suppose gentle Same­la, that a man of meane estate, whome disdainefull Fortune had [...], [...] to make hir power prodigall in his [Page] misfortunes, being feathered with Cupides bolt, were sna­red in the beautie of a Quéene, should he rather die than dis­couer his amors? If Queens (quoth she) were of my mind, I had rather die, thā perish in baser fortunes. Venus loued Vul­can replied Menaphon: truth quoth Samela, but though he was polt-footed, yet he was a God. Phaon enioyed Sapho he a Ferriman that liued by his hands thrift, she a Princesse that [...] inuested with a diadem. The more fortunate quoth Samela was he in his honours, and she the lesse famous in her honestie. To leaue these instances replied Menaphon, (for loue had made him hardie) I swéete Samela inferre these presupposed premisses, to discouer the basenesse of my mean birth, and yet the deepnesse of my affection, who euer since I saw the [...] of your perfection shining vpon the moū ­tains of Arcadie, like the glister of the Sunne vpon the top­lesse Promontorie of Sicilia, was so snared with your beau­tie, and so [...] with the excellēce of that perfection that exceedeth all excellencie, that loue entring my desire, hath mainteined himselfe by force; that unlesse sweete Samela grant me fauour of her loue, and play the princelie Eagle, I shall [...] the poore Flie perish in my Fortunes: he conclu­ded this period with a deepe sigh, and Samela grieuing at this follie of the Shephearde, gaue him mildelie this aun­swere.

Menaphon my distressed haps are the resolutions of the Destinies, and the wrongs of my youth, are the forerunners of my woes in age; my natiue home is my worst nurserie, & my friends d [...]nie that which strangers preiudiciallie grant: I arriued in Arcady shipwrackt, and Menaphon fauouring my sorrowes hath affoorded me succours, for which Samela rests bound, and will prooue thankfull: as for [...], knowe that Venus standeth [...] the Tortoys, as [...] that Loue creepeth on by [...]; that [...] is like the Snayle, which stealeth to the top of the lance by minutes: the [...] hath his increase, yet neuer anie sees it augment, the Sonne [...], [...] the [...] is not [...] [...] [...] like those should [Page] enter into the eye, and by long gradations passe into the heart; Cupid hath wings to flie, not that loue should be swift, but that he may soare high to auoyd base thoughts. The To­pace being throwne into the fire burneth straight, but no soo­ner out of the flame but it freezeth; strawe is soone kindled, but it is but a blaze; and loue that is caught in a moment, is lost in a minute: giue me leaue then Menaphon first to sor­row for my fortunes, then to call to minde my husbands late funeralls, then if the Fates haue assigned I shall fancie, I will account of thee before anie shepheard in Arcadie. This conclusion of Samela draue Menaphon into such an extasie for ioy, that he stood as a man metamorphozed; at last calling his senses together, hee tolde her he rested satisfied with her answere, and therupon lent her a kisse, such as blushing The­tis receaues from her choycest lemman. At this Lamedon awakte, otherwise Menaphon no doubt had replied, but breaking off their talk they went to view their pastures, and so passing downe to the place where the sheepe grazed, they searched the shepheards bagges, and so emptied their bottles as Samela meruailed at such an [...] banquet: at last they returned home, Menaphon glorying in the hope of his suc­cesse, interteining Samela still with such courtesie, that shee finding such cōtent in the cotage, began to despise the honors of the Court. Resting thus in house with the shepheard, to a­uoide tedious conceipts she framed her selfe so to countrey la­bours, that she oft times would lead the flocks to the [...] her selfe, and being drest in homelie attire, she seemd like Oc­none that was amorous of Paris. As she thus often traced a­longst the Plaines, she was noted amongst the shepheardes of one Doron next neighbour to Menaphon, who entered into the consideration of her beautie, and made report of it to all his fellow swaines, so that they chatted nought in the [...] but of the new shepheardesse. One daye amongst the rest, it chaunced that Doron sitting in parley with another countrey companion of his, amidst other tattle, they prattled of the beautie of Samela. [...] thou seene her quoth Melicer­tus, [Page] (for so was his friend called) I quoth Doron and sight to see her, not that I was in loue, but that I [...] shee shuld be in loue with such a one as Menaphon. What [...] of woman is shee quoth Melicertus? As well as I can answered Doron I will make description of her.

Dorons description of Samela.

Like to Diana in her Summer weed [...]
Girt with a crimson [...] of brightest die, goes faire Samela.
Whiter than be the flockes that straggling [...],
When washt by Arethusa faint they lie: is faire Samela.
As faire Aurora in her morning gray
Deckt with the ruddie glister of her loue, is faire Samela.
Like louelie Thetis on a calmed day,
When as her brightnesse Neptunes [...], shines faire Samela.
Her tresses gold, her eyes like glassie streames,
Her teeth are pearle, the breasts are [...] of faire Samela.
Her cheekes like rose and lilly yeeld foorth gleames,
Her browes bright arches framde of ebonie: Thus faire Samela.
Passeth faire Venus in her [...] hiew,
And Iuno in the shew of maiestie, for she'is Samela.
Pallas in wit, all three if you well view,
For beautie, wit, and matchlesse dignitie yeeld [...] Samela.

Thou [...] Melicertus made such a description, as if Priamus young boy should paint out the perfection of his Gréekish Paramour. Me thinkes the Idea of her [...] re­presents [Page] it selfe an obiect to my fantasie, and that I see in the [...] excellence, the rare beauties of: and with that he broke off abruptlie with such a déepe sigh, as it séemed [...] should haue broken; sitting as the Lapithes when they gazed on Medusa. Doron meruailing at this [...] euent, was halfe afraid, as if some appoplexie had astonied his senses, so that cheering vp his friend, he demanded what the cause was of this sodaine conceipt. Melicertus no nig­garde in discouerie of his fortunes, began thus. I tell thee Doron before I kept sheépe in Arcadie, I was a [...] else where, so famous for my flockes, as Menaphon for his foldes; beloued of the Nymphes, as [...] of the Countrey Damzells; coueting in my loues to vse Cupids wings, to soare high in my desires, though my selfe were borne to base fortunes. The Hobbie catcheth no pray, vn­lesse she mount beyonde her marke, the Palme tree beareth most bowes where it groweth highest, & [...] most fortu­nate where his courage is resolute, and thought beyond his compasse. Grounding therefore onthese principles, I [...] mine eye on a Nymph, whose parentage was great, but her beautie farre more excellent, her birth was by manie de­grees greater than mine, and my woorth by manie discents lesse than hers: yet knowing Venus loued Adonis, and Lu­na Endymion, that Cupide had boltes feathered with the plumes of a Crowe, as well as with the pennes of an Ea­gle, I attempted and courted her, I found her lookes ligh­tening disdaine, and her forhead to [...] fauours for o­thers, and frownes for me: when I alledged faith, she [...] me with Aeneas, when loyaltie, she tolde me of Iason; whē I swore constancie, shee questioned me of Demophoon; when I craued a finall resolution to my fatall passions, shee [...] her browes full of wrinckles, and her eyes full of fu­rie, turned her backe, and shooke me off with a Non placet. Thus in loues I lost loues, and for her loue had lost all, had not when I neere despaired the clemencie of some [...] starre, or rather the verie excellence of my Mistres [...] [Page] salued my halfe despairing maladie: for shee seeing that I helde a supersticious opinion of loue, in honouring him for a Deitie, not in counting him a vaine conceipt of Poctrie, that I thought it sa [...]riledge to wrong my desires, and the basest fortune to inhance my fortune by falsing my loues to a wo­man, she left from being so rammage, and gentlie came to the fist, and granted me those fauours shee might affoord, or my thoughts desire: with this he ceast and fell againe to his sighes, which Doron noting, answered thus. If (my good Melicertus) thou [...] enioy th [...]y loues, what is the occasion thou beginnest with sighes, and endest with passions. [...] Doron there endes my ioyes, for no sooner had I triumpht in my fauours, but the trophees of my fortunes fell like the hearbes in Syria, that flourish in the morne, and fade before night; or like vnto the flie Tyryma, that taketh life and lea­ueth it all in one day. So my Doron did it fare with me, for I had no sooner enioyed my loue, but the heauens enuious a shepheard should haue the fruition of such a heauenly Para­gon, sent vnteuocable Fates to depriue me of her life, & shee is dead: dead Doron, to her, to my selfe, to all, but not to my memorie, for so deepe were the [...] stamped in my in­warde senses, that obliuion can neuer race out the forme of her excellence. And with that he start vp, seeking to fall out of those dumpes with Musique, (for he plaid on his pipe cer­taine sonets [...] contriued in praise of the countrey wench­es) but plaine Doron as plaine as a packstaffe, desired him to sound a roundelay, and he would sing a song, which he [...] to this effect.

Dorons Iigge.

Through the shrubb [...] as I can cracke,
For my Lambes little ones,
Mongst many pretie ones,
Nimphes I meane, whose haire was blacke
As the [...]:
Like the snow
[Page]Her fac [...] and [...] shinde I weene:
I saw a little one,
A bonny pr [...]ty one,
As bright, buxsome and as sheene
As was shee,
On hir knee
That lulld the God, whose arrowes warmes
Such merry little ones,
Such faire fac'd prety ones,
As dally in Loues chiefest harmes,
Such was [...]:
Whose gray [...]
Made me loue. I gan to [...]
This sweete little one,
This bonny pretie one.
I [...] hard a day or two,
Till she bad;
Be not sad,
Wooe no more I am thine owne,
Thy dearest little one,
Thy truest pretie one:
Thus was faith and firme loue showne,
As behoues
Shepheards [...].

[...] like you this Dittie of mine owne [...], quoth Doron? As well as my musique replied Melicertus; for if Pan and I striue, Midas being Iudge, and should happe to giue me the garland, I doubt not but his Asses eares should be doubled: but Doron so long we dispute of loue, and for­get our labours, that both our flockes shall be vnfolded, and tomorrow our merrie meeting hindered. Thats true quoth Doron, for there will be all the shepheards Daughters and countrey Damzels, and amongst them feare not but Mena­phon will bring his faire Shepheardesse, there Melicertus shalt thou see her that will amate all our moodes, and amaze [Page] thee, and therefore good Melicertus let vs be going. With this prattle away they went to their foldes, where we leaue them, & returne to Menaphon, who trium phing in the hope of his new loues, caused Samela to tricke her vp in her coun­trey attire, and make her selfe braue against the meeting: she that thought, to be coye were to discouer her thoughts, drest her selfe vp in Carmelas russet cassocke, and that so quaint­ly, as if Venus in a countrey peticoate had thought to wan­ton it with her louely Adonis. The morow came, and away they went, but Lamedon was left behinde to keep the house. At the houre appointed, Menaphon, Carmela and Samela came, when all the rest were readic making merie. As soone as word was brought, that Menaphon came with his newe Mistres, all the companie began to murmur, and euery man to prepare his eye for so miraculous an [...]: but Pesana a heardsmans daughter of the same parish, that long had loued Menaphon, and he had filled her browes with frownes, her eyes with furie, and her heart with griefe; yet coueting in so open an assemblic, as well as shee coulde to hide a pad in the straw, she expected as others did the arriwall of her newe cor­riuall: who at that instant came with Menaphon into the house. No sooner was she entred the Parlour, but her eyes gaue such a shine, & her face such a brightnesse, that they stood gazing on this Goddesse; and shee vnacquainted, seeing [...] selfe among so manie vnknowen swaines, died her cheekes with such a vermilion blush, that the countrey maides them­selues fel in loue with this [...] Nimph, and could not blame Menaphon for being ouer the shooes with such a beautifull creature. Doron iogde Melicertus on the elbowe, and so a­wakte him out of a dreame, for he was deeply drownd in the contemplation of her excellencie; sending out [...] of sighs in remembrance of his old loue, as thus hee sate meditating cn her fauour, how much she resembled her that death had de­priued him off: well her welcome was great of all the com­panie, & for that she was a stranger they graced her to make her the [...] of the Feast. Menaphon seeing Samela thus [Page] honoured, conceiued no smal content in the aduancing of his Mistres, being passing ioconde and pleasant with the rest of the companie, insomuch that euerie one perceiued howe the poore swayne fedde vppon the dignities of his Mistres gra­tes. Pesana noting this began to lowre, and Carmela win­king vpon her fellowes, answered her frownes with a smile, which doubled her griefe; for womens paines are more pin­thing if they be girded with a frumpe, than if they be galled with a mischiefe. Whiles thus there was banding of such lookes, as euerie one imported as much as an impreso, Same­la willing to see the fashion of these countrey yong frowes, cast her eyes abroad, and in viewing euerie face, at last her eyes glaunced on the lookes of Melicertus; whose counte­nance resembled so vnto her dead Lord, that as a woman a­stonied she stood staring on his face, but ashamed to gaze vp­pon a stranger, she made restraint of her looks, and so taking her eye from one particular obiect, she sent it abroad to make generall suruey of their countrey demeanours. But [...] all this gazing, he that had seene poore Menaphon, how in­fected with a iealous furie, he stared each man in the face, fea­ring their eyes should feede or surfet on his Mistres beautie: if they glaunst, he thought straight they would be riualls in his loues; if they flatlie lookt, then they were déepely [...] in affection; if they once smiled on her, they had recey­ued some glance from Samela that made them so malepart; if she laught, she likte; and at that he began to frowne: thus sate poore Menaphon all dinner while pained with a thou­sande [...] passions, keeping his téeth garders of his sto­macke, and his eyes watchmen of his loues, but Melicer­tus halfe impatient of his new conceiued thoughts, determi­ned to trie how the Damzell was brought vp, and whether she was as wise as beautifull, hee therefore began to breake [...] thus.

The Orgies which the Bacchanals kept in Thessaly, the Feasts which the melancholy Saturnists [...] in Danuby, were neuer so quatted with [...], but on their festiual daies [Page] they [...] frolicke amongst themselues with manie pleasaunt parlies: were it no a shame then that we of Arcadie, famous for the beautie of our Nymphes, & the amorous [...] of our [...], shoulde disgrace Pans holiday with such melancholy dumpes: curteous countrey Swaines shake off this sobrietie, and séeing we haue in our companie Damzels both beautifull and wise, let vs interteine them with prattle, to trie our wittes, and tire our time; to this they all agreed with a plandite. Then quoth Melicertus; by your leaue since I was first in motion, I will be first in question, & therefore new come shepheardesse first to you: at this Samela blusht, and he began thus.

Faire Damzel, when Naereus chatted with Iuno, he had pardon, in that his prattle came more to plesure the Goddesse than to ratifie his owne presumption: if I Mistres be ouer­hold, forgiue me; I question not to offend, but to set time frée from tediousnesse. Then gentle shepheardesse tell me, if you should bee transformed through the anger of the Gods, into some shape; what creature would you reason to be in forme? Samela blushing that she was the first that was [...], yet [...]gathered vp her crums, and desirous to shew her pregnaunt wit, (as the wisest women be euer tickled with self loue) made him this answere.

Gentle shepheard, it fits not strangers to be nice, nor mai­dens too coy; least the one feele the weight of a scoffe, the o­ther the fall of a frumpe: pithie questions are mindes whet­stones, and by discoursing in iest, manie doubts are deciphe­red in earnest: therefore you haue forestalled me in crouing pardon, when you haue no néede to feele anie grant of par­don. Therefore thus to your question; Daphne I remem­ber was turned to a bay tree, Niobe to a flint, Lampetia & her sisters to flowers, and sundrie Uirgins to sundrie shapes according to their merites; but if my wish might serue for a [...], I would be turned into a sheepe. A sheepe, and why so Mistres? I reason thus quoth Samela, my sup­position should be simple, my life quiet, my food the pleasant [Page] Plaines of Arcadie and the wealthie riches of Flora, my drinke the coole streames that flowe from the concaue [...] of this Continent, my aire should bee cleere, my walkes spacious, my thoughts at ease, and can there none shepheard be my better premisses to conclude my replie than these? But haue you no other allegations to confirme your resolution: Yes sir quoth she, and farre greater. Then the law of our first motion quoth hee commands you to repeate them. Farre be it answered Samela that I should not doo of free will anie thing that this pleasant companie commands: therefore thus; Were I a shecpe, I should bee garded from the foldes with iollie Swaines, such as was Lunas Loue on the hills of Latmos; their pipes sounding like the melodie of Mercurie, when he lulld asleepe Argus: but more, when the Damzells tracing along the Plaines, should with their eyes like Sunne bright beames, drawe on lookes to gaze on such sparkling Planets: then wearie with foode, shoulde I lye and looke on their beauties, as on the spotted wealthe of the richest Firmament; I should listen to their sweete layes, more sweete than the Sea-borne Syrens: thus feeding on the delicacie of their features, I should like the Tyrian hey­fer fall in loue with Agenors darling. I but quoth Meli­certus, those faire facde Damzells oft draw foorth the kind­est sheepe to the shambles. And what of that sir aunswered Samela, would not a sheepe so long [...] with beautie, die for loue. If he die (quoth Pesana) it is more kindnes in beasts, than constancie in men: for they die for loue, when larkes die with leekes. If they be so wise quoth Menaphon, they shew but their mother witts; for what sparkes they haue of incon­stancie, they drawe from their female fosterers, as the Sea dooth ebbes and tides from the Moone. So be it sir answe­red Pesana, then no doubt your mother was made of a [...] cocke, that brought foorth such a wauering companion: for you master Menaphon measure your looks by minutes and your loues are like lightning, which no sooner flash on the [...], but they vanish. It is then quoth Menaphon because [Page] mine eye is a foolish Iudge, and chooseth too baselie: which when my heart censures of, it [...] away as refuse. Twere best thē said Pesana, to discharge such vniust Iudges of ther seates, and to set your eares [...] of your loue pleas. I [...] they fault quoth Melicertus, euerie market towne hath are­medie, or els there is neuer a Baker néere by seauen miles. Stay curteous Shepheards quoth Samela, these iestes are too broade before, they are cynicall like Diogenes quippes, that had large feathers and sharpe heads, it little fits in this companie to bandie taunts of loue, seeing you are vnwedded and these all maidens addicted to [...]. You speake well as a Patronesse of our credite quoth Pesana, for in [...] we be [...], & addicted to virginitie. Now quoth Menaphon that you haue got a virgin in your mouth you wil neuer leaue chaunting that word, till you prooue your selfe either a Ue­stall or a Sybill. Suppose she were a Uestall quoth Meli­certus, I had almost said a virgine (but God forbidde I had made such a doubtfull supposition) shee might carrie water with Amulia in a siue: for amongst all the rest of the virgins we read of none but her that wrought such a miracle. Pesa­na hearing how pleasantly Melicertus plaid with her nose, thought to giue him as great a bone to gnaw vppon, which she cast in his teeth thus [...].

I remember sir that Epicurus measured euerie mans diet by his owne principles; Abradas the great Macedonian Pirate, thought euerie one had a letter of Marte, that bare [...] in the Ocean; none came to knocke at Diogenes tub but was supposed a Cinick; and fancie a late hath so tied you to his vanities, that you will thinke Vesta a flat figured con­ceipt of Poetrie. Samela perceiuing these blowes woulde growe to déepe wounds, broke off their talke with this prety digression. Gentlemen, to end this strife, I praye you let vs heare the opinion of Doron, for all this while neither he [...] Carmela haue vttered one word, but sate as Censers of our pleas; twere necessarie he tolde vs how his heart came thus on his halfepenie. Doron hearing Samela thus pleasaunt, [Page] made presentlie this blunt replie; I was faire Mistres in a solempne doubt with my selfe, whether in beeing a sheepe, you would be a Ram or an Ewe: An Ewe no doubt quoth Samela, for hornes are the heauiest burden that the head can beare. As Doron was readie to replie, came in sodainly [...] this parley foure or fiue olde shepheards, who broke off their prattle, that from that they fel to drinking: and so after some parley of their flocks, euerie one departed to their own home where they talked of the exquisite perfection of Samela, espe­cially Melicertus, who gotten to his owne cotage, and lyen downe in his couch by himselfe, began to ruminate on Same­las shape.

Ah Melicertus, what an obiect fortune this day brought to thy eyes, presenting a strange Idaea to thy sight, as appea­red to Achilles of his dead friend Patroclus, tresses of gold like the tramels of Sephestias lockes, a face fairer than Ve­nus, such was Sephestia; her eye paints her out Sephestia, her voyce sounds her out Sephestia, she séemeth none but Se­phestia: but seing she is dead, & there liueth not such another Sephestia, sue to her and loue her, for that it is either a selfe same or another Sephestia. In this hope Melicertus fel to his slumber, but Samela was not so content: for shee began thus to muse with her selfe; May this Melicertus be a shep­heard: or can a countrie cotage affoord such perfection? doth this coast bring forth such excellence? then happie are the vir­gins shall haue such suters, and the wiues such pleasing hus­bands; but his face is not inchacte with anie rusticke propor­tion, his browes containe the characters of nobilitie, and his lookes in shepheards weeds are Lordlie, his voyce pleasing, his wit full of gentrie: weigh all these equallie, and consider Samela is it not thy Maximus? Fond foole away with these suppositions; could the dreaming of Andromache call He­ctor from his graue? or can the vision of my husband raise him from the seas? Tush stoop not to such vanities: hee is dead, and therefore grieue not thy memorie with the imaginati­on of his new reuiue, for there hath been but one Hippolitus [Page] found to be Virbius, twise a man, to salue Samela than this suppose; if they court thee with hyacinth, [...] them with roses; if he send thee a lambe, prese [...]t him an eawe; if he wooe, be wooed; and for no other reason, but, hee is like Maximius. Thus she rested, and thus she slept, all parties being equally content and satisfied with hope except Pesana, who fettred with the feature of her best beloued Menaphon sate cursing Cupide as a partiall Deitie, that would make more daye light in the Firmament than one Sunne, more rainebowes in the heauen than one Iris, & more loues in one heart than one settled passion: manie praiers she made to Ve­nus for reuenge, manie vowes to Cupide, manie orizons to Hymaeneus, if shee might possesse the type of her desires. Well poore soule, howsoeuer she was paid, she smothered all with patience, and thought to braue loue with séeming not to loue; and thus she daily droue out the time with labour, & looking to her heard, hearing euerie day by Doron who was her kiusman, what successe Menaphon had in his loues. Thus Fates and Fortune dallying a dolefull Catastrophe, to make a more pleasing Epitazis, it fell out amongst them thus. Melicertus going to the fields, as he was wont to doo with his flockes, droue to graze as néere the swaines of Me­naphon as he might, to haue a view of his new enterteined Mistres; who, according to his expectation came thether e­uerie day. Melicertus esteeming her to bee some Farmers daughter at the most, could not tell how to court her: yet at length calling to rembrance her rare wit discouered in her last discourses, finding opportunitie to giue her both bal and racket, se [...]ing the coast was cleere, and that none but Same­la and he were in the flew, he left his flocke in the valley, and stept vnto her, and saluted her thus.

Mistres of al eyes that glance but at the excellence of your perfection, soueraigne of all such as Venus hath allowed for louers, Oenones ouermatch, Arcadies comet, beauties se­cond comfort; all haile: seeing you sit like Iuno when shee first [...] her white heyfer on the Lincen downes, as [Page] bright as siluer Phoebe mounted on the high top of the rud­die [...], [...] attractiue force drawne, as the adamant draweth the yron, or the ieat the straw, to [...] your sweete selfe in the shade, and affoord you such companie as a poore swaine may yeeld without offence; which if you shall vouch to deigne of, I shall be as glad of such accepted seruice, as Paris first was of his best beloued Paramour. Sa­mela looking on the shepheardes face, and seeing his vtte­rance full of broken sighes, thought to bee pleasant with her shepheard thus. Arcadies Apollo, whose brightnesse draws euerie eye to turne as the Heliotropion [...] after her load; fairest of the shepheards, the Nimphes sweetest obiect, wo­mens wrong, in wronging manie with ones due; welcome, and so welcome, as we vouchsafe of your seruice, admitte of your companie, as of him that is the grace of al companies; and if we durst vpon any light pardon, woulde venter to re­quest you shew vs a cast of your cunning. Samela made this replie, because she heard him so superfine, as if Ephaebus had learnd him to refine his mother tongue, wherefore thought he had done it of an inkhorne desire to be eloquent; and Meli­certus thinking that Samela had learnd with Lucilla in A­thens to anotamize wit, and speake none but Similes, imagi­ned she smoothed her talke to be thought like Sapho Phaos Paramour. Thus deceiued either in others suppositions, Samela followed her sute thus; I know that Priamus wan­ton could not be without flockes of Nymphes to follow him in the Uale of Ida, beautie hath legions to attende her excel­lence if the shepheard be true; if like Narcissus you wrap not not your face in the cloude of disdaine, you cannot but haue some rare Paragon to your Mistres, whome I woulde haue you in some sonnet describe. Ioues last loue, if Ioue coulde get from Iuno, my pipe shal presume and I aduenture with my voice to set out my Mistres fauour for your excellence to censure of, and therefore thus. Yet Melicertus for that [...] had a farther reach, would not make anie clownish descripti­on, chanted it thus cunningly.

[Page]

Melicertus description of his Mistres.

Tune on my pipe the praises of my Loue,
And midst thy eaten harmonie recount
How faire she is that makes thy musicke mount,
And euerie string of thy hearts harpe to moue.
Shall I compare her forme vnto the spheare
Whence Sun-bright Venus [...] her siluer shine?
Ah more than that by iust compare is thine,
Whose Christall lookes the cloudie heauens [...] cleare.
How oft haue I descending Titan seene
His burning lockes couch in the Sea-queenes lap,
And beauteous Thetis his red bodie wrap
In watrie roabes, as he her Lord had been.
When as my Nimph impatient of the night
Bad bright Atraeus with his traine giue place,
Whiles she led foorth the day with her faire face,
And lent each starre a more than Delian light.
Not Ioue or Nature should they both agree
To make a woman of the Firmament,
Of his mixt puritie could not inuent
A Skie borne forme so beautifull as she.

When Melicertus had ended this roundelay in prayse of his Mistres, Samela perceiued by his description, that either some better Poet than himselfe had made it, or else that his former phrase was dissembled: wherefore to trie him tho­roughly, and to see what snake laye hidden vnder the grasse, she followed the chase in this manner.

Melicertus, might not a straunger craue your Mistres name. At this the shepheard blusht, and made no reply. How [Page] now quoth Samela, what is she meane that you shame, or so high as you fear to bewray the souereign of your thoughts? Stand not in doubt man, for be she base, I reade that migh­tie Tamberlaine after his wife Zenocrate (the worlds faire eye) past out of the Theater of this mortall life, he chose stig­maticall trulls to please his humorous fancie. Be she a prin­cesse, honour hangs in high desires, and it is the token of a high minde to venter for a Queene: then gentle shepheard tell me thy Mistres name. Melicertus hearing his goddesse speake so fauourably, breathed out this sodaine replie; Too high Samela, and therefore I feare with the Syrian Wolues to barke against the Moone, or with them of Scyrum to shoot against the starres; in the height of my thoughts soaring too high, to fall with wofull repenting Icarus: no sooner did mine eye glance vpon herbeautie, but as if loue and fate had sate to forge my fatall disquiet, they trapte mee within her lookes, and haling her Idaea through the passage of my sight, placde it so déeply in the center of my heart, as maugre al my studious indeuour it still and euer will kéepe restlesse possessi­on: noting her vertues, her beauties, her perfections, her ex­cellence, and feare of her too high born parentage, although painfully fettered, yet haue I still feared to dare so haute [...] attempt to so braue a personage; least she offensiue at my pre­sumption, I perish in the height of my thoughts. This con­clusion broken with an abrubt passion, could not so satisfie Sa­mela but she would bee further inquisitiue. At last after ma­nie questions, he answered thus; seeing Samela I consume my selfe, & displease you; to hazarde for the salue that maye cure my malady, & satisfie your question, know it is the beau­teous Samela. Be there more of that name in Arcady beside my selfe quoth she. I know not qd Melicertus, but wer there a million, onely you are Melicertus Samela. But of a milli­on qu [...]th she, I cannot be Melicertus Samela, for loue hath but one arrowe of desire in his quiuer, but one string to his bow, & in choyce but one aime of affection. Haue ye alreadie quoth Melicertus set your rest vpō some higher personage? [Page] No quoth Samela, I meane by your selfe, for I haue hearte that your fancie is linked alreadie to a beautiful shepherdesse in Arcadie. At this the pore swaine tainted his cheeks with a vermilion die, yet thinking to carrie out the matter with a [...], he [...]tood to his tackling thus; Whosoeuer Samela des­canted of that loue, tolde you a Canterbury tale; some pro­pheticall full mouth that as he were a Coblers eldest sonne, would by the laste tell where anothers shooe wrings, but his sowterly aime was iust leuell, in thinking euerie looke was loue, or euerie faire worde a pawne of loyaltie. Then quoth Samela taking him at a rebound, neither may I thinke your glaunces to be fancies, nor your greatest protestation any as­surance of deepe affection: therefore ceasing off to court any further at this time, thinke you haue prooued your selfe a tall souldier to continue so long at batterie, and that I am a fau [...] ­rable foe that haue continued so long a parley; but I charge you by the loue you owe your deerest Mistres, not to say any more as touching loue for this time. If Samela quoth hee, thou hadst enioyned me as Iuno did to Hercules, most daun­gerous labours, I would haue discouered my loue by obedi­ence, and my a [...]fection by death: yet let me craue this, that as I begunne with a Sonnet, so I may ende with a Madri­gale. Content Melicertus quoth she, for none more than I loue Musique. Upon this replie the shepheard proud folow­ed this Dittie.

Melicertus Madrigal [...].

What are my sheepe without their wonted food?
What is my life except I gaine my Loue?
My sheepe consume and faint for want of blood.
My life is lost vnlesse I grace approue.
No flower that saplesse thriues:
No Turtle without pheare.
The day without the Sunne dooth [...] for woe,
[Page]Then woe mine eyes vnlesse they beautie se [...]:
My Sunne Samelaes eyes, by whom I know
Wherein delight consists, where pleasures be.
Nought more the heart reuiues
Than to imbrace his deare.
The starres from earthly humors gaine their light,
Our humors by their light possesse their power:
Samelaes eyes fidde by my weeping sight,
Insues my paine or ioyes by smile, or lower.
So wends the source of loue.
It feedes, it failes, it ends.
Kinde lookes cleare to your ioy behold her eyes,
Admire her heart, desire to taste her kisses;
In them the heauen of ioy and solace lies,
Without them evry hope his succour misses.
Oh how I loue to prooue
Wheretoo this solace tends.

Scarce had the shepheard ended this Madrigale, but Sa­mela began to frowne, saying he had broken promise. Meli­certus alledged if he had vttred any passion, [...] sung, not said. Thus these Louers in a humorous descant of their prat­tle espied a farre off olde Lamedon and Menaphon com­ming towards them; whereupon kissing in conceipt, & par­ting with interchaunged glaunces, Melicertus stole to his sheepe, and Samela sate her downe making of nets to catche birds. At last Lamedon and her Loue came, and after ma­nie gracious lookes, and much good parley, helpte her home with her sheepe, and put them in the folds. But leauing these amorous shepheardes busie in their loues, let vs retourne at length to the pretie babie Samelas childe, whom Menaphō had put to nurse in the countrey. This infant being by Na­ture beautifull, and by birth noble, euen in his cradle expres [...] to the eyes of the gazers such glorious presages of his ap­proching [Page] fortunes, as if another Alcides (the arme-strong darling of the doubled night) by wrastling with snakes in his swadling cloutes, should propherie to the world the ap­prothing wonders of his prowesse; so did his [...] looks re­flect terror to the weake beholders of his ingrafted nobilitie, as if some God twise born like vnto the Thracian Bacchus, forsaking his heauen borne Deitie, shoulde delude our eyes with the alternate forme of his infancie. Fiue yeres had full runne their monthly reuolution, when as this beauteous boy began to shew himselfe among the shepheards children, with whom he had no sooner cōtracted familiar acquaintance, but straight he was chosen Lord of the May game, king of their sports, and ringleader of their reuils; insomuch that his ten­der mother beholding him by chance mounted in his king­ly maiestie, and imitating honorable iustice in his game [...] exercise of discipline, with teares of ioy took vp these prophe­ticall termes; well doo I see, where God and Fate hath vo­wed [...], no aduerse fortune may expel prosperitie. Pleu­sidippus thou art young, thy lookes high, and thy thoughtes hautie; souereigntie is seated in thy eyes, and honour in thy heart; I feare this fire will haue his flame, and then am I vndone in thee my [...]; my countrey life (sweete countrey life) in thy proud soaring hopes, despoysed and disroabed of the disguised aray of his rest, must returne [...] weedes to the foldes where I lefte my feares, and hast to the court my hell, there to inuest me in my wonted cares. How now Sa­mela, wilt thou be a Sybil of mishap to thy selfe: the angrie heauens that haue eternisht thy exile, haue establisht thy con­tent in Arcadie. My content in Arcadie, that may not be no longer than my Pleusidippus staies in Arcadie, which I haue cause to feare, for the whelps of the Lion are no longer harmlesse than when they are whelpes, and babes no longer to be awed, than while they are babes. I but nature, & there­with she pawsed, being interrupted by a tumult of boies, that by yong Pleusidippus command fell vpon one of their f [...]l­lowes, and beate him most [...] for playing false playe at [Page] nine holes: which she espying through her lattise window, could not chose but smile about measure. But when she saw him in his childish termes condemne one to death for despi­sing the authoritie bequeathed him by the rest of the boyes, then she bethought her of the Persian Cyrus that deposed his Grandfather Astyages, whose vse it was at like age to imi­tate maiestie in like manner. In this distraction of thoughts she had not long time staid, but Lamedon and Menaphon calde her awaye to accompany them to the foldes, whiles Pleusidippus hasting to the execution of iustice, dismissed his boyish session till their next meeting: where how imperi­ously he behaued himselfe in punishing misorders amongest his equals, in vsing more than iesting iustice towards his vn­tamed copesmates, I referre it to the Annuals of the Arca­dians that dilate not a little of this ingenious argument. In this sort did Pleusidippus draw foorth his infancie, till on a time walking to the shore, where hee with his mother were wrackt, to gather cockles and pebble stones, as children are wont: there arriued on the strond a Thessalian Pirate named Eurilachus, who after he had forraged in the Arcadian con­fines, driuing before him a large bootie of beasts to his ships espied this pretie infant; when gazing on his face as wanton Ioue gazed on Phrygian Ganimede in the fields of Ida, hee exhaled into his eyes such déepe impression of his perfection, as that his thought neuet thirsted so much after any pray, as this pretie Pleusidippus possession: but determining first to assay him by curtesie before hee assayled him with rigour, he began to trie his wit after this manner. My little childe, whence art thou, where wert thou borne, whats thy name, and wherefore wandrest thou thus all alone on the shoare. I pray ye what are you sir quoth Pleusidippus, that deale thus with me by interrogatories, as if I were some runne away. Wilt thou not tell me then who was thy father: Said he, Good sir, if ye will needes knowe goe aske that of my mo­ther. Hath said wel my Lord quoth Romanio who was one of his especiall associates, for wise are the children in these [Page] dayes that know their owne fathers, especially if they be be­gotten in Dogge daies, when their mothers are franticke with loue, & yong men furious for lust. Besides, who knows not, that these Arcadians are giuen to take the benefit of e­uerie [...]odge, when they will sacrifice their virginitie to Ve­nus, though they haue but a bush of nettles for their bedde; and sure this boy is but some shepheards bastard at the most, howsoeuer his wanton face importeth more than appéerance. Pseusidippus eyes at this speach resolued into fire, and his face into purple, with a more than common courage in chil­dren of his yeares and stature, gaue him the lie roundly in this replie; Pesant, the bastard in thy face, for I am a Gen­tleman: wert thou a man in courage, as thou art a Kowe in proportion, thou wouldst neuer haue so much empayred thy honestie, as to derogate from my honor. Look not in my face but leuel at my heart by this that thou seest, and therewith let driue at him with such pebble stones as hee had in his hat, in­somuch that Romanio was driuen to his heeles, to shun this sodaine haile shot, and Eurilochus resolued into a laughter, and in tearmes of admiration most highly extolled so exceed­ing magnanimitie in so little a bodie; which how auaileable it prooued to the confirmation of his fancie, that was before inflamed with his features, let them imagine, that haue no­ted the imbecilitie of that age, and the vnresisted furie of men at armes. Sufficeth at this instant to vnfolde (all other cir­cumstance of praise laid apart) that Eurilochus being farre in loue with his extraordinarie lineaments, awaited no far­ther parley, but willed his men perforce to hoyse him a ship­boord, intending as soone as euer he arriued in Thessaly, by sending him to the Courte as a present, to make his peace with his Lord and Master Agenor, who not long before had proclaimed him as a notorious Pirate throughout all his do­minions. Neither swarued hee one whit from his purpose, for no sooner had he cast auker in the Port of Hadrionopo­lis, but he arraied him in choyce silkes and Tyrian purple, & so sent him as a prize to the King of that Country, who wal­walking [Page] as then in his summer garden with his Queen the beauteous Eriphila, fell to discourse (as one well séene in Philosophie) of hearbes and flowers, as the sauour or colour did occasion; and hauing spent some time in disputing their medicinable properties, his Ladie reaching him a Marigold, he began to moralize of it thus merely. I meruaile the Po­ets that were so prodig all in painting the amorous affection of the Sunne to his Hyacinth, did neuer obserue the relation of loue twixt him and the Marigold: it shoulde either séeme they were loath to incurre the displeasure of women, by pro­pounding it in the way of comparison any seruile imitation for head strong wiues, that loue no precepts lesse, than those pertaining vnto duty; or that that flower not so vsual in their gardens as ours, in her vnacquainted name did obscure the honour of her amors to Apollo; to whose motions reducing the methode of her springing, she waketh and sleepeth, ope­neth and shutteth her golden leaues, as he riseth and setteth. Well did you forestall my exception quoth Eriphila, in ter­ming it a seruile imitation; for were the condition of a wife so slauish as your similitude would inferre, I had as leaue be your page as your spouse, your dogge as your darling. Not so swéete wife answered Agenor, but the comparison holdeth in this, that as the Marigold resembleth the Sunne both in colour and forme, so each mans wife ought euerie way to be the image of her husband, framing her countenance to smile, when she sées him disposed to mirth; and contrariwise her eyes to teares, he being surcharged with melancholy: and as the Marigold displaieth the orient ornaments of her beautie to the resplendant viewe of none but her louer Hyperion, so ought not a woman of modestie lay open the allurements of her face to anie but her espoused pheere; in whose absence like the Marigold in the absence of the Simne, she ought to shut vp her dores, and solemnize continuall night, till her husband her sunne making a happie return, vnsealeth her silence with the ioy of his sight. Beléeue me, but if all flowers (quoth E­riphila) affoord such influence of eloquence to our aduerse o­rators, [Page] He exempt them all from my smell, for feare they be all planted to poyson. Ofte haue I heard (replied Agenor) our cunning Phisitions conclude, that one poyson is harme­lesse to another; which if it be so, there is no cause why a [...] should feare to be stung of a nettle. I can tell you sir, you best were beware, least in wading too farre in comparisons of thistles and nettles, you exchange not your rose for a net­tle. If I do quoth Agenor, it is no more, but my gardeners shall plucke it vp by the rootes, and throw it ouer the wal as a weed. To end this iest that els would issue to [...]. what purple flower is this in forme like a hyacinth (quoth Eriphi­la) so cunningly dropped with bloud, as if Nature had inter­medled with the Peralds arte to emblazon a bléeding heart. It is the flower into the which Poets [...] saigne Venus dy­iug Adonis to be turnd, a faire boy but passing infortunate. Was it possible quoth Eriphila, that euer Nature should bée so bounteous to a boy, to giue him a face in despite of women so faire: faine would I [...] such an obiect, and then would I beste beautie, for imparting our excellencie to any inferiour abiect. In saying these words (as if Fortune meant to pre­sent her fancie with his desired felicitie) Romanio conduc­ted by one of the Lords came with yong Pleusidippus in his hand into the pri [...] garden: where discoursing vnto the king the intent of Eurilochus in presenting him with such an in­estimable Jewell, the manner of his taking in the Strond of Arcadie, with other circumstance of vowed alleageance; all which being gratefully accepted of Agenor, he sealed their seuerall par [...]ons, & so gaue them leaue to depart. But when be had throughly obscrued euerie perfection of yong Pleusi­dippus, he burst into these tearmes of passion; Pad sea-borne Pontia then an appliable eare in our idlenesse, that to testiste hir eteruall deitie, she should send vs a second Adonis to de­lude our senses: What euer may deserue the name of faire haue I [...] before, beautie haue I beheld in his brighest orb, but neuer set eye on immortalitie before this houre. Eriphi­la likewise in no lesse extasie, séeing her eyes to dazle with the [Page] reflexe of his beautie, and hir chéekes tainted with a blush of disgrace by too too much gazing on his face, said; that eyther the Sunne had lefte his bower to beguile their eyes with a borrowed shape (which could not keepe in his brightnesse) or Cupide dismounted from his mothers lappe, left his bow & quiuer at randon, to outbraue the Thessalian dames in their beautie, In this contrariecie of thoughts, being all plunged [...] in [...] speachlesse astonishment, the faire childe Pleusi­dippus not vsed to such hyperbolical spectators, broke off the silence by calling for his victualls, as one whose emptie sto­mack since his comming from sea, was not ouercloyed with delicates, whereat Agenor reuiued from his trance, where­in the present wonder had inwrapt him, demanded such que­stions of his name and parentage as the Pirates ignorance could not vnfold; but he being able to tel no more than this, that his mother was a shepheardesse, & his owne name Pleu­sidippus, cut off all their further interrogatories by calling after his childish manuer againe for his dinner. Whereupon Agenor commanding him to be had in, and vsed in euerie re­spect as the childe of a Prince, beganin his solitarie walke by his countenance to calculate his Natiuitie, and measure his birth by his beautie, contracting him in thought heyre to his kingdome of Thessaly, and husbande to his daughter, before he knewe whence the childe descended, or who was his father.

But leauing yong Pleusidippus thus spending his youth in the Thessalian Court, protected with the tender affection of such a courteous Foster-father as Agenor; returne wee where we lefte backe vnto Arcadie, and meete his Mother the faire Samela returning from the foldes: who hauing dis­coursed by the way as she came home to Lamedon and Me­naphon what shee late sawe and obserued in her sonne, they both conioyned their iudgements to this conclusion, that hee was doubtles borne to some greater fortunes than the sheep­coates could containe, and therefore it behooued her to fur­ther his Destinies with some good and liberall education, [Page] and not to detaine him any longer in that trade of life, which his fortune withstood: but by the way to rebuke him for ty­rannising so Lorlolie ouer the boies, least the neighbor shep­heards might happely intrude the name of iniurie on them being strangers for his insulting ouer their children. With this determination came she home, & calling for Pleusidip­pus according to their former counsaile, he would in no wise be found. Thereupon enquirie was made amongest all the shepheards, diligent search in euerie village, but stil the most carefullest post returned with Non est inuentus. Which Sa­mela hearing, thinking she had vtterly lost him whome For­tune had saued, began in this manner to act her vnrest; Dis­sembling heauens, where is your happinesse? vnconstant times, what are your triumphes? haue you therefore hether­too fed me with honie, that you might at last poyson me with gall? Haue you fatted mee so long with Sardenian smiles, that like the wracke of the Syrens, I might perrish in your wiles? Curst that I was to affie in your curtesie, curst that am to taste of your crueltie. O Pleusidippus, liuest thou, or art thou dead? No thou art dead, dead to the world, dead to thy [...], dead to Cipres, dead to Arcadie, dead to thy mother Samela; and with thee dies the worlds wonder, thy kinsfolkes comfort, Cipres soule, Arcadies hopes, thy mo­thers honours. Was this the prophecie of thy souereigntie, to yeeld vp thy life to death so vntimely? wretched was I of al women to bring thee foorth to this infancie. O cruel The­mis that didst reuolue such vneuitable fate; hard harted death to prosecute me with such hate. [...] wee therefore escapce the furie of the seas, to perish on the land? was it not inough that we were exiled from higher prosperitie, but we must all of vs thus sodainly be ouer whelmed with the ouerflowe of a second aduersitie? my husband and thy father to be swalow­ed in the furie of the surge, and now thou to bee (and there­with her eyes distilled such abundance of teares, as stoyt the passage of her plaints, & made her seeme a more than second Niobe, be wailing her seauen fold sorrow vnder the forme of [Page] a wéeping Flint.) Menaphon who had ouer heard her all this while, as one that sought opportunitie to plead his vn­rest, perceiuing her in that extremitie of agonie for hir sous supposed losse, stept to hir presently, & cheerde hir vp in these tearmes; Faire shepheardesse, might the teares of contriti­on raise the dead from destruction, then were it wisedome to be waile what weeping might recall; but since such anguish is fruitelesse, and these plainings bootlesse; comfort your self with the hope of the liuing, and omit the teares for the dead. Why quoth Samela how is it possible a woman should loose him without griefe, whom she hathconceiued with sorrow: he was sweete Menaphon; the diuided halfe of my essence, soule to my ioyes, and life to my delights; as beauteous in his b [...]irth, as is our bright bow-bearing God, that played the shepheard awhile for loue, amiddest our pleasant Arcadian Downes. What ere hee was in beautie quoth Menaphon, proceeded from your bountie; who may by marriage make his like when you please: therefore there is no cause you shuld so much grieue to see your first worke defacde, that of a newe molde can forme a farre better than euer he was. Ah Mena­phon, nere more may his like proceede from my loynes; I tell thee he made the chamber bright with his beautie when he was born, and chacte the night with the golden rayes that gleamed from his lookes: nere more may I bee the mother of such a sonne. Yes Samela (quoth the frolicke shephearde) thinke not but if thou wilt list to my loues, I will enrich thée with as faire increase as euer he was. Alas pore swaine said she, thou hopest in vaine, since another must reape what thou hast sowne, and gather into his barnes what thou hast scatte­red in the furrowe. Another reape what I haue sowen: ther­with he scracht his head where it icht not, and setting his cap he could not tell which way, in a hot sustian fumes [...] vttred these words of furie; Strumpet of Greece, repaiest thou my loue with this lauish ingratitude? haue I therefore with my plentie supplied thy wants, that thou with thy pride shouldst procure my wo? did I relieue thee in distresse, to wound me [Page] in thy welfare with disdaine? deceitfull woman (and there­with hee swore a holiday oath, by Pan the God of the Shep­heards) either returne loue for loue, or I will turne thée forth of doores to scrape vp thy crummes where thou canst; and make thee [...] for thy poùertie, that earst while wert ho­noured in tuerie mans eye. through the supportance of thy beautie. Belike then quoth Samela, when you intertained me into your house, you did it not in regarde of the lawes of hospitalitie, but onely with this policie to quench the flames of your faucie: then sir haue I [...] your honestie, and am lesse indebted to your courtesie. Nay I thought no lesse said Menaphon, when your straggling eye at our last méet­ing would be gadding throughout euerie corner of our com­panie, that you would proue such a kinde kistrell; but if you will néedes bee starting, Ile serue yee thereafter I warrant you: then see which of our beardlesse yongsters will take ye in, when I haue cast you foorth. Those quoth shee that coun­tenance Menaphon and his pelfe, and are better able than your selfe: but howsoeuer I finde their fauour, I hence forth defie you and your fellowship. And there with in great rage she [...] away into the next chamber, where her vncle Lame­don laye a sleepe; to whome complaining of Menaphons [...], he straight inuented this remedie; there was a shepheard called Moron (brother to Doron) that not long before died of a surfet, whose house and flocke beeing set to sale after his decease, be bought them both foorth with for Sa­mela with certaine remainder of money he had, and therein [...] her maugre the furie of Menaphon; who when hee saw she was able to support her state without his purse, be­came sicke for anger, and spent whole Eclogues in anguish. Sometime lying comfortlesse on his bedde he would com­plaine him to the windes of his woes, in these or such like woords; Forlorne, and forsooke since Phisicke dooth loathe thée; despaire be thy death, Loue is a God and despiseth thée a man; Fortune blinde, and can not beholde thy desertes: die, die, fonde Menaphon, that vngratefully hast abando­ned [Page] thy Mistresse. And therewith stretching himselfe [...] his bedde, as thinking to haue slept, hee was restrained by cares that exiled all rest from his eyes: whereuppon taking his pipe in his hande, [...] playing and singing hee play­ned him thus.

Menaphons Song in his bedde.

[...] restlesse cares companions of the night,
That wrap my ioyes in folds of endlesse woes:
Tyre on my heart, and wound it with your spight,
Since Lone and Fortune proues my equall foes.
Farewell my hopes, farewell my happie daies:
Welcome sweete griefe, the subiect of my laies.
Mourne heauens, mourne earth, your shepheard is for lorne;
Mourne times and houres since bale inuades my bowre:
Curse euerie tongue the place where I was borne,
Curse euerie thought the life which makes me [...].
Farewell my hopes, farewell my happie [...],
Welcome sweete griefe the subiect of my [...].
Was I not free? was I not fancies aime?
Framde not desire my face to front disdaine?
I was; she did: but now one silly maime
Makes me to droope as he whom loue hath [...].
Farewell my hopes, farewell my happie [...],
Welcome sweete griefe the subiect of my layes.
Yet drooping, and yet liuing to this death,
I sigh, I sue for pitie at her shrine,
Whose fierie eyes exhale my vitall breath,
And make my flockes with parehing heate to pine.
Farewell my hopes, farewell my happie daies,
Welcome sweete griefe the subiect of my layes.
[Page]Fade they, die I, long may she liue to blisse
That [...] a wanton fire with fuell of her forme,
And makes perpetuall summer where shee is;
Whiles I doo cri [...] [...] with enuies storme,
Farewell my hopes, farewell my happie daies:
Welcome sweete griefe, the subiect of my laies.

No sooner had Menaphon ended this dittie, but Pesana hearing that he was lately falne sicke, and that Samela & hee were at mortall iarres; thinking now to make hay while the Sunne shinde, and take opportunitie by his forelockes, [...] into his chamber vnder pretence to visite him, fell into these tearmes; Why how now Menaphon, hath your newe change driuen you to a night cap? Beleeue me this is the strangest effect of loue that euer I saw, to freeze so quicklye the heart it set on fire so lately. Why maye it not bee a burn­ing feuer as well quoth Menaphon blushing? Nay that can not be said Pesana, since you shake for cold, not swelt for heat. Why if it be so it is long of cold interteinment. Why quoth Pesana, hath your hot in [...]ertainment cooled your courage? No, but [...] vndeserued hate quite hindered my conquest. You knowe quoth Pesana where you might haue béen let in long ere this, without either assalt or anie such battrie With this the shephearde was mute, and Pesana ashamed: but at length regathering his spirites to be wray his martyrdome, and make his olde Mistresse some new musicke, he strained foorth this dittie.

Faire fields proud Floras vaunt, why is't you smile when as I languish?
You golden meads, why striue you to beguile my weeping anguish?
I liue to sorrow, you to pleasure spring: why doo you spring thus?
What will not Boreas tempests wrathfull king take somepitie on vs?
[Page]And send foorth Winter in hir rustie [...], to waite my [...];
Whiles I distrest doo tune my countrey [...] vnto my [...].
But heauen, and earth, time, place, and euerie power haue with her conspired
To turne my blissefull sweetes to balefull sower, since fond I [...]
The heauen whereto my thoughts may not [...]: ay me vnhappie.
It was my fault t'imbrace my [...] the fire that forceth me die.
Mine be the [...], but [...] the cruell ca [...]se of this strange torment:
Wherefore no time my banning praiers shall pause, till proud she repent.

Well I [...] quoth Pesana, for all she hath let you flie like a Hawke that hath lo [...]t hir tyre; yet you meane to follow sute and seruice, though you get but a handfull of smoake tò the bargaine. Not so quoth Menaphon, but perhaps I séek to returne an ill bargaine as deare as I bought it. If you doo so, you are wiser than this kercher dooth shew you quoth Pe­sana. Much idle prattle to this purpose had Menaphō with Pesana in his sicknesse, and long it was not, but that with good diet and warme broths, (and especially by her carefull attendance) hee began to gather vp his crummes, and liften by litle and litle to the loue he late scorned. Leaue we them to their equall desires, as surfetting either of others societie; and let vs looke back to Thessaly, where Samelaes stripling (now growne vp to the age of sixtéene yeres) flourisht in ho­nour & feates of armes aboue all the Knights of the Court, insomuch that the eccho of his Fame, was the onely newes talke on throughout euerie towne in Greece: but Olympia the Mistres of his prowesse, (for so was the Kings daughter named) was she that most of all exalted in the farre renow­med [Page] reports of his martiall perfections, to whose prasse hee did [...] al his [...], to whose exquisite forme he did dedicate all his aduentures. But hell-borne Fame, the eldest daughter of Erinnis, enuying the felicitie of these two famous Louers, dismounted [...] from hir brasse soun­ding buildings, and [...] hir selfe of hir secrets in the presence of yong Pleusidippus, among whose catalogue she had not forgot to discouer, the incomparable beautie of the Arcadian shepheardesse; whereof the young Prince no soo­ner had receiued an inckling, but he stood vpon thornes til he had satisfied his desire with her sight. Therefore on a time [...] with his Mistresse at supper, when for table talke it was debated amongst them, what Countrey bredde the most accomplisht Dames for all things? After straungers and o­thers had deliuered vp their opinions without parcialitie, one amongst them all who had been in Arcadie, gaue vp his verdit thus freely; Gentle women (quoth hee) bee it no dis­grac [...] for the Moone to [...] to the Sunne, for the starres to giue place when Titan appeares; then I hope neither the Thessalians will be moued, nor [...]he Grecians [...], if I make Apollos Arcadie beauties Meridian. Neither wil I procéede heerein as our Philosophicall Poets are wont, that musler euerie moouer in the Zodiacke, euerie [...] starre in the firmament, [...] elementall worde of arte in an Alma­nacke, to prooue that Countrey for beautie most Canonicall where their Mistresse abideth; when as God [...], had they but learned of Appelles, Ne sutor vltra crepidam, they wold not haue aspired aboue their birth, or talkt beyond their sow­terly bringing vp. Our Areadian Nimphs are faire & beau­tifull, though not [...] of the Suns bright rayes; whose eyes [...] loues armorie to the viewe, whose [...] faces are to the obscure earth in steed of a Firmament: viewe but this counterf [...]ice (and therewithall hee shewed the picture of Samela) and see is it be not of force to draw the Sunne from his spheare, or the Moone from hir circle to gaze as the one did on the beautie of Daphne, or al night contemplate as the [Page] other [...] the forme of [...]. [...] who [...] while heard his [...] with [...], [...] the radiant [...] of this [...], [...] a man alrea­die installed [...] eternitie, he exclaimed [...], O Ar­cadie, Arcadie storehouse of Nimphs, and [...] of beau­tie. At which words Olympia starting vp [...], as if she a second Iuno, had taken hir Ioue in [...] with [...]: & ouercasting the chamber with a [...] that was able to mā ­tle the world with an [...] night, she [...] passage to her choller in these termes of [...]; [...] esse [...] of I know not [...], haue the fauors of my bounty (not thy de­sert) entred thée so [...] in ouer [...] presumption, that thou shouldst be the formost [...] of our dignitie; and [...] of my beautie [...] I tell thée [...], I [...] thy clownish Arcady with his inferiour comparisons, as one that prizeth her perfection aboue anie created constitution. Pleusidippns vpon this speach stood plunged in a great per­plexitie whether he should excuse himselfe [...], or take her vp roundly: but the latter being more leuel [...] his [...] the former, he begun [...] to rowze vp his furie; [...] dame that vpbraidest me with my birth as it were base, & my youth as it were boyish, know that although my parents and progenie are enuied by obscuritie, yet the s [...]erkes of renowm that make my Eagle minded thoughts to mount, the heauē ­ly fire imprisoned in the pannicles of my crest, inciting me to more déeds of honor, than stout Perseus effected with his fau­chon in the fields of Hesperia, assertaineth my soule I was the sonne of no coward, but a Gentleman: but since my ine­qualitie of parentage, is such an eye sore to thy enuie, holde take thy fauors, (and therewith he threw her her gloue) and immortalize whom thou wilt with thy toyes; for I will to Arcadie in despite of thée and thine affinitie, there either to seeke out mischance, or a new Mistres. With this in a great rage he rose from the boord, & would haue mounted himselfe to depart in that mood, had not the Lords & gentlemen there present disswaded him from such an vnaduised enterprise. [Page] [...] was this vnkindne [...] kept [...] secret, [...] it came to the Kings care as he was new ri [...] from [...]; who for the [...] he bare to Pleusidippus whome hee [...] with Knighthood n [...] long before, and for the to [...] [...] he saw in [...], [...] paines to goe to the chamber where they were; [...] finding his daughter in straunge manner perple [...]ed with the thoughe of Pleu [...]dippus departure, her eyes red, and her chéekes all to be blubbered with her iealous ieal [...]us, he tooke her vp in this manner. Daughter, I thought I had chose such a one to be the obiect of your [...]ie, as you might haue eue­rie way loued and honoured as the Lord of your life, and not haue controlled as the slaue of your luste. Did I therefore grace him with my countenance, that you should dissaine him with your taunts; péeuish girle, I aduise thee on my [...], either reconcile thy selfe betimes, and reforme thy vn­reuerent tearmes, or I will disclaime the loue of a Father, and deale by thee no more as a daughter. Olympia who al­readie had sufficiently bitten on the bridle, took these words more [...]indly than all her former bitternesse, which she dis­gested but sowerly; neuerthelesse making necessitie the pre­sent times best pollicie, shee humbled her selfe as shee migh [...] with [...], and destred the best interpretation of what was past; Pleusidippus whose courteous inclination coulde not withstand this submission, in [...]gn of reconcilement gaue her a [...] des labies: yet was he not so reconciled, but he kept on his purpose of going to Arcadie; whereat Olympia (although she grudged inwardly, yet being loath to offend) [...]lde her peace, and determined to bestowe vppon him a re­membrance, whereby he might bee brought to thinke vppon her in his absence; which was the deuise of a bleeding heart floting in the sea, waues curiou [...]ie stampe in golde, with this Motto about it, P [...]rtum aut m [...]rtem; alluding as it seemed to the deuise in his shield, wherein (because he was taken vp by Eurilochus on the shore) was cunningly drawne in a field argent, the sea waues with Venus sitting on the top, in to­ken that his affection was alreadie [...]. Here holde this [Page] [...] she my [...] Plensidippus, and hang it about thy neck, that when thou art in Arcadie it may be euer in thine eye; so shall these droppes of ruth that paint out a painfull trueth, [...]ithdraw thy fancie from attracting strange beautie: which said, the teares gusht from her eyes, and good Agenors like­wise, who gaue him nothing so much in charge, as to make ha [...] of his [...]. Pleusidippus although he could haue [...] content to haue done the like for comp [...], yet he had such a minde on his iourney, that he broke off such ceremonies, and hasted a [...]; and in a Barke bounde for Arcadie, ha­ [...]ing the winde fauourable made a short cut, so that in a daye and nights sayling, he arriued on the shore adioyning to the [...] wher he, his mother, and his v [...]ckle Lamedon were first [...].

Leaue we him wandring with some few of his traine that came with him alongst the sea side, to séeke out some town or village where to refresh themselues; and let vs awhile to the Court of Democles where our Historie began: who hauing committed his daughter with her tender [...], her husbands Maximius, and Lamedon his vnckle without o [...]re or mar­riuer to the furie of the merciles waues, determined to leaue the succession of his kingdome to vnce [...]aine chance: for his Quéene with Sephestiaes losse (whō she déemed to be dead) tooke such thought, that within short time after she died. De­mocles as car [...]lesse of all weathers, spent his time Epicure­like in all kinde of pleasures that either art or expence might affoord; so that for his dissolute life he seemed another Heli­ogabalus, deriuing his securitie from that grounded tran­quilitie, which made it prouerbiall to the world, No heauen but Arcadi [...]. Hauing spent manie yeares in this varietie of vanitie, Fame determining to applye her selfe to his fancie, sounded in his eares the singular beautie of his daughter Sa­mela; h [...], although he were an olde colte, yet had not cast all his wanton teeth, which made him vnder the brute of beeing [...]icke of a grieuous appoplexie, steale from his Court secret­ly in the disguise of a shepheard, to come and seek out Same­la; [Page] [...] not [...] new flocke, [...] more [...] it [...] been Quéene of Arcadie; and M [...] ­cer [...] not a little that shee was part [...] from M [...] ­phon, vsed euerie day to [...] her without dread, and [...] her in such shepheards [...] as he had; which he [...] [...]sed her I lean [...] to you to imagi [...], when [...] not long af­ter she vowed mariage to him solemnly in presence of all the shepheards, but not to be solemnized till the [...] was fulfilled, mentioned in the beginning of this Historie. Al­though this penance exceeded the limits of his patience; yet hoping that the Oracle was not [...]ttered in vaine, and might as well (albeit he knew not which way) bee accomplished in him as in any other, wa [...] contented to make a vertue of ne­cessitie, and await the [...]emost of his destinie. But Pleusidip­pus, who by this time had perfected his pollicies, exchaung­ing his garments with one of the heardgroomes of Mena­phon, tracing [...] the Plaines in the habit of a Shepheard, chanced to meete with Democles as he was new come into those quarters; [...] mistaking for an olde shepheard, he be­gan many impertinent questions belonging to the Sheepe­coates, at last he as [...] him if he knew Samelas sheepfold; who answering doubtfully vnto all alike, made him halfe angrie: and had not Samela past by at that instant to fill her bottle at a spring [...] the foote of the Promontorie, he should lyke i­nough haue had first h [...]sell of our new Shepheards shéepe­hooke. But the wonder of her beautie so wrought with his wounded fancie, that he thought report a partiall spreader of her praises, and fame too base to talke of such formes. Same­la espying this faire shepheard so farre ouer-gone in his ga­zing, stept to him, and askt him if he knew her that hee so [...] ­uerlookt her. Pardon me [...]ire shepheardesse (quoth Pleusi­dippus) if it be a fault, for I cannot chuse being Eagle sigh­ted but gaze on the Su [...]e the first time I sée it. And truely I cannot chuse but compare you to one of Aesops Apes, that finding a Glowor me in the night, [...]ke it for fire; and you sée­ing a face full of deformities, mistake it for the Sunne. In­deede [Page] it maye be mine eyes made opposite to such an obiect may faile in their office, hauing their lights rebated by such brightnesse. Nay not vnlike quoth Samela, for els out of doubt you would see your way better. Why quoth Pleusi­dippus I cannot go out of the way, when I meete such gli­stering Goddesses in my way. How now si [...] Paris, are you [...] of your Arithmeticke, I thinke you haue lost your witts with your eyes, that mistake Arcadie for Ida, and a Shep­heardesse for a Goddes. How euer it please you (quoth Pleu­sidippus) to derogate from my prowesse by the title of Pa­ris, know that I am not so farre out of my Arithmetick, but that by Multiplication I can make two of one, in an houres warning, or bee as good as a cypher to fill vp a place at the worst hand; for my wit sufficeth be it neuer so simple to proue both re and voce that there can be no vacuum in rerum natu­ra, and mine eyes (or else they deceiue me) will enter so farre in arte, as niger est contrarius albo, and teach mee how to dis­cerne twixt blacke and white. Much other circumstaunce of prattle passed betweene them, which the Arcadian Records [...] not shew, nor I remember; sufficeth be pleaded loue, and was repulst: which drout him into such a cholar, that méeting his supposed shepheard, (who lying vnder a bush, had all [...] while [...]uer heard them) he entred into such termes of indig­nation, as Ioue shaking his earthquaking haire, when he [...] in consultation of Licaon. Wherefor [...] Democles [...] Pleus [...]dippus repulst, who was euery way gracd [...] with the ornaments of Nature, began to cast his bad peniworths, in whose face age had furrowed her wrinckles; except hee should lay his cro [...] at her feete, and [...]ell her he was King of Aread [...]; which in Cōmon wealths respectes, séeming not co [...]dious, he thought to turne a new leafe, and make this [...]ng shepheard the meanes to perfect his purpose. Hee had not farre from that place a strong Castle, which was inhabi­ted as then by none but [...] and heardgroomes: thether did he persw [...] Pleusidippus to carrie he [...] persorce, & effect that by [...], that he could not [...] by intreatie; who [Page] li [...]ning not a little to this counsaile, that was [...] for his aduantage, preseutly put in practise what he of late gaue in precepts, and waiting till the euening that Samel [...] should fold hir sheep, hauing giuen his men the watch word, maugre al the shepheards adioyning he mounted her behind him; and being by Democles directed to the Castle, he made such hauocke among the stubborne heardsmen, that wil they nill they, he was Lord of the Castle. Yet might not all this preuaile with Samela, who constant to her olde shephearde, would not interteine anie new loue; which made Pleusidip­pus thinke all his haruest lost in the reaping, and blemisht al his delights with a mournful drooping. But Democles that lookt for a mountaine of golde in a Mole hill, finding her all alone, began to discourse his loue in more ample mauner thā euer Pleusidippus, telling her how he was a King, what his reuenewes were, what power he had to aduance her; with many other proud vaunts of his wealth, and prodigal termes of his treasure. Samela hearing the name of a King, & per­ceiuing him to be hir Father, stoode amazed like Medusaes Metamorphosis, and blushing oft with intermingled sighes, began to thinke how iniurious fortune was to her showen in such an incestuous father. But he hot spurred in his purpose, gaue hir no time to deliberate, but required either a quicke consent, or a present deniall. She tolde him, that the Shep­heard Melicertus was alreadie intitled in the interest of hir beautie, wherefore it was in vain what he or anie other could plead in the way of perswasion. He thereupon entring into a large field of the basenesse of Shepheards, and royalties of Kings, with manie other assembled arguments of [...], that would haue fetcht Venus from her sphere to disport: but Samela whose mouth could disgest no other meate saue onely hir sweete Melicertus, ashamed so long to [...] p [...]ley with her father about such a matter, flung a way to her withdraw­ing chamber in a dissembled rage, and there after her [...] manner be wailed her mi [...]ortunes.

Democles plunged thus in a Laborinth of restles passi­ons, [Page] séeing Melicertus figure was so déepely printed in the center of her thoughts, as neither the resolution of his fancie, his Metamorphosis from a King to a traueler, Crownes, Kingdomes, preferments, (battries that soone ouerthrowe the fortresse of womens [...]) when Democles I saye, saw that none of these colde remooue Samela; hearing that the Arcadian shepheardes were in an vprore for the losse of their beautiful shepheardesse, his hot loue changing to a bird of coye disdaine; he intended by some reuenge, either to òb­taine his loue, or satisfie his hate: whereupon throughly re­solued, he stole away secretly in his shepheards apparaile, & got him down to the Plaines; where he found all the swains in a mutinie about the recouerie of their beautifull Paragon. Democles stepping amongst the route, demanded the cause of their controuersie. Marie sir quoth Doron bluntly, the flower of all our garland is gone. How meane you that sir, quoth he: We had answered Doron, an Eaw amongst ou [...] Ramms, whose fleece was as white as the haires that grow on father Boreas thinne, or as the dangling deawlap of the siluer Bull, her front curled like to the Erimanthian Boare, and spangled like the woosted stockings of Saturne, her face like Mars treading vpon the milke white cloudes: beleeue me shepheard, her eyes were like the fierie torches tilting a­gainst the Moone: this paragon, this none such, this Eaw, this Mistres of our flockes, was by a wily Foxe stolne fro [...] our foldes; for which these shepheards assemble themselues, to recouer so wealthie a prize. What is he quoth Menaphō that Doron is in such debate with? Fellowe canst thou tell vs anie newes of the faire shepheardesse, that the Knight of Thessaly hath carried away from her fellow Nymphes. De­mocles thinking to take opportunitie by the forhead: and seeing Time had feathred his bolte, willing to assaye as hee might to hit the marke, began thus.

Shepheardes, you see my profession is your trade, and al­though my wandring fortunes be not like your home borne fauours; yet were I in the groues of Thessalian Tempe, as [Page] I am in the plaines of Arcadie, the swaines would giue mee as manie due honors, as they present you here with submisse reuerence. Beautie that drew Apollo from heauen to playe the shepheard, that fetcht Ioue from heauen to bear the shape of a Bul for Agenors daughter, the excellence of such a Me­taphusicall vertue, I meane shepheard the fame of your fair [...] Samela, bouering in the eares of euerie man as a miracle of nature, brought me from Thessaly to féede mine eyes with Arcadies wonder: stepping alongst the shoare to come to same sheepcoate where my wearie limmes might haue rest, Loue that for my labors thought to lead me to fancies paui­lion, was my conduct to a castle, where a Thessalian knight lyes in holde, the Portcullis was let downe, the bridge draw­en, the Court of garde kept, thether I went; and for by my tongue I was known to be a Thessalian, I was enterteined and lodged: the Knight whose yeares are young, and valure matchlesse, holding in his armes a Ladie more beautifull thā Loues Queene, all blubbered with teares, asked me manie questions, which as I might I replide vnto: but while he talkt, mine eye surfetting with such excellence, was detained vpon the glorious shew of such a wonderfull obiect; I deman­ded what she was of the standers by, & they said she was the faire shepheardesse whome the Knight had taken from the swaines of Arcadie, and woulde carrie with the first winde that serued into Thessaly: This shepheards I knowe, and grieue that thus your Ioues should be ouermatcht with For­tune, and your affections pulde backe by contrarietie of De­stinie. Melicertus hearing this, the fire sparkling out of his eyes began thus; I tell thee shephearde, if Fates with their forepointing pencels did pen down, or Fortune with her dee­pest varietie resolue, or Loue with his greatest power deter­mine to depriue Arcadie of the beautifull Samela, we would with our blood signe downe such spels on the Plaines, that either our Gods should summon her to Elizium, or shee [...] wi [...]h vs quiet & fortunate: thou seest the shepheardes are vp in armes to reuenge, onely it rests who shall haue the honour [Page] and principalitie of the field. What needs that questiō quoth Menaphon, am not I the Kings shepheard, and chiefe of all the bordering swaines of Arcadie. I grant quoth Melicer­tus, but am not I a Gentleman, though tirde in shepheardes skincoate; superiour to thee in birth, though equall nowe in profession. Well from words they had falne to blowes, had not the shepheards parted them; and for the auoyding of far­ther troubles, it was agreed that they should in two Eclogs make description of their loue, and Democles, for he was a stranger, to sit Censor, and who best could decipher his Mi­stres perfection, should be made Generall of the rest. Mena­phon and Melicertus condes [...]uded to this motion, & De­mocles sitting as Iudge, the rest of the shepheards standing as witnesses of this combat Menaphon began thus.

Menaphons Eclogue.

Too weake the wit, too slender is the braine
That meanes to marke the power and worth of loue;
Not one that liues (except he hap to proue)
Can tell the sweete, or tell the secret paine.
Yet I that haue been prentice to the griefe,
Like to the cunning sea-man from a farre,
By gesse will talke the beautie of that starre,
Whose influence must yeeld me chiefe reliefe.
You Censors of the glorie of my deare,
With reuerence and lowlie bent of knee,
Attend and marke what her perfections bee:
For in my words my fancies shall appeare.
Hir lockes are pleighted like the fleece of wooll
That Iason with his Gretian mates atchi [...],
As pure as golde, yet not from golde deriude;
As full of sweetes, as sweete of sweetes is full.
[Page]Her browes are pretie [...] of [...],
Where Loue his records of delight dooth [...],
On them her dallying lockes [...]
As Loue full oft dooth [...] vpon the [...].
Her eyes, faire eyes, like to the purest lights
That animate the [...], or cheere the day,
In whom the shining Sun-beames brightly play
Whiles [...] dooth on them diuine delights.
Hir cheekes like [...] in wine,
Or faire [...] kernels washt in milke,
Or snow white threds in nets of crimson silke,
Or [...] vpon the [...] decline.
Her lips are roses [...]uerwasht with dew,
Or like the purple of Narcissus flower:
No frost their [...], no winde doth wast their power,
But by her breath her beauties [...] renew.
Hir christall chin like to the [...],
Enchac'de with [...] daysies soft and white,
Where fancies faire [...] once is pight,
Where as [...] his beauties be doth holde.
Hir necke like to an [...] shining [...]
Where through with azure veynes sweete Nectar runnes,
Or like the downe of [...] where Senesse [...],
Or like delight that doth it selfe [...].
Hir pappes are like faire apples in the [...],
As round as orient pearles, as soft as downe:
They neuer [...] their faire through [...] frowne,
But from their sweetes [...].
Hir bodie beauties best [...],
[Page]Delicious, comely, [...], without [...]
The thought whereof (not touch) hath [...].
Whose faire, all faire and beauties doth [...].
Hir maiden mount, the dwelling house of pleasure;
Not like, for why no like surpasseth w [...]nder:
O blest is he may bring such beauties vnder,
Or search by sute the secrets of that treasure.
Deuourd in thought, how wanders my deuic [...],
What rests behind I must [...] vpon?
Who talkes the best, can say but fairer none:
Few words well [...] most content the wise.
All you that heare; let not my sillis stile
Condemne my zeale: for what my tongue should [...]
Serues to inforce my thoughts to seeke the way
Whereby my woes and cares I doe beguils.
Selde speaketh Loue, but sighs his secr [...]t [...];
Teares are his truce-men, words doo make him [...].
How sweete is loue to them that can dissemble
In thoughts and lookes, till they haue reapt the gaines,
Alonely I am plaine, and what I say
I thinke, [...] what I thinke tongue [...]
Sweete Censors take my silly worst for [...]
My faith is [...], though [...] be my laye.

After the haples [...] [...] discourse shadowed his heauenly delight, [...] [...] af­ter some pause began in [...].

Melice [...] Eclogue.

What [...] exceedes comp [...]re?
Who drawes his [...],
[Page]Their pompe and greatest glories doth [...],
And mounts Loues heauen with ouer leaden wings.
Stones, [...] and flowers, the foolish [...] of earth,
Flouds, mettalls, colours, [...] of the eye:
These shew conceipt is staind with too much dearth:
Such abstract fond compares make cunning die.
But he that hath the feeling taste of Loue
Deri [...]es his essence from no [...] toy;
A weake conceipt his power cannot [...],
For earthly thoughts are subiect to [...].
Be whist, be still, be silent Censers now;
My fellow swaine has tolde a pretie tale
Which modern [...] Poets may perhaps allow,
Yet I condemne the [...]; for they are stale.
Apollo when my Mistres first was borne
Cut off his lockes, and left them on hir head,
And said; I plant these wires in Nature [...] scorne,
Whose beauties shall appeare when Time is dead.
From foorth the Christ all heauen when she was made,
The puritis thereof did taint hir brow:
On which the glistering Sunne that sought the shade
Gan set, and there his glories doth [...].
Those eyes, faire eyes, too faire to be describ [...],
Were those that [...] the [...] did ref [...]rme:
To whom the [...] their beauti [...]s [...],
That fashion life in man, in beast, in [...].
When first hir faire delicious cheekes were wrought,
Aurora brought hir blush, the Moone hir white:
Both so combinds as passed Natures thought,
[Page]Compilde those pretie or [...] of sweete delight.
When Loue and Nature once were proud with play,
From both their lips hir lips the Corall drew:
On them doth fancy sleepe, and [...] day
Doth swallow ioy such sweete delights to view.
[...] while Venus Sonne did seeke a [...]
To sport with Psiches his desired [...],
He chose her chinne; and from that happi [...] [...]
He neuer stints in glorie to appeare.
Desires and Ioyes that long had serued Loue,
Besought a Holde where pretie eyes [...]ight [...] them:
[...]Loue made her necke, and for their [...]est [...]
Hath shut them there, whence no man can [...] the [...].
Once Venus dreamt vpon two pretie things,
Hir thoughts they were affections [...]:
She [...] and [...], and [...] hir in the [...],
And when she wakt they were my Mistres breasts.
Once Cupide sought a holde to [...] his kisses,
And found the bodie of my best beloude.
Wherein he [...] the beautie of his blisses.
And from that [...] can neuer be [...].
The Graces earst, when Alcidelian springs
Were [...], perhaps did finds hir fountaine
Within the vale of blisse, where Cupides wings
[...] shield the Nectar fleeting from the mountaine.
No more fond man: things infinite I see
Brooke no dimension: Hell a foolish speech;
For [...] things may neuer talked be.
[Page]Then let me liue to honor and beseech.
Sweete Natures pompe, if my deficient phraze
Hath staind thy glories by too little skill,
Yeeld pardon though mine eye that long didgaze,
Hath left no better patterne to my quill.
I will no more, no more will I detaine
Your listning eares with dallyance of my tongue:
I speake my ioyes, but yet canceale my paine;
My paine too olde, although my yeres be yong.

As soone as Melice [...] had ended this Eclogue, they ex­pected the doome of Democles, who hearing the sweete de­scription, wherein Melicertus described his Mistres, won­dered that such rare conceipts could bee harboured vnder a she pheards gray cloathing, at last he made this aunswere.

Arcadian Swaines, whose wealth is content, whose la­bours are tempred with sweete loues, whose mindes àspyre not, whose thoughts brooke no enuie; onely as r [...]ualls in af­fection, you are friendly emulators in [...]: sith for­tune (as enemie to your quiet) hath rest you of your fayre shepheardesse, (the worlds wonder, and Arcadies miracle) & one of you as champion must lead the rest to reuenge, both desirous to shew your val [...]ur as your forwardnesse in affecti­ons, and yet (as I said) [...] to be sole chiestaine of the traine, I award to Mclicert us that honor (as to him that hath most curiously portrayed out his Mistres excellencie) to bente the sole rule and supremacie. At this Menaphon grudged, and Melicertus was in an extasie for ioy; so that gathering all his forces together of stone headstrong clownes, amounting to the number of some two hundred, he apparailed himselfe in armour, colour sables, as mourning for his Mistres, in his shield he had figured the waues of the sea, Venus sitting on them in the height of all her pride. Thus marched Meli­certus forward with olde Democles the supposed shepheard [Page] till they came to the castle, where Pleusidippus and his faire Samela were resident. As soone as they came there, Meli­certus begirt the Castle with such a siege, as so manie shéey­ish Caualiers could furnish: which when he had done, sum­moning them in the Castle to parley, the yong Knight stept vpon the walls, and seeing such a crue of base companions, with Jackets and rustie bills on their backs, fell into agreat laughter, and began to taunt them thus.

Why, what straunge Metamorphosis is this? Are the Plaines of Arcadie, whilome filled with labourers, now o­uerlaide with launces? Are sheepe transformed into men, swaines into souldiers, and a wandring companie of poore shepheards, into a worthie troope of resolute champions: No doubt, either Pan meanes to playe the God of warre, or else these be but such men as rose of the téeth of Cadmus. Nowe I see the beginning of your warres, and the pretended ende of your stratagems: the shepheards haue a m [...]dding humor like the Greekes to seek for the recouerie of Helena; so you for the regaining of your faire Samela. Heere she is Shep­heards, and I a Priam to defende hit with resistance of a ten yeares siege; yet for I were loath to haue my Castle sack [...] [...] Troy, I pray you tell me which is Agamemnon?

Melicertus hearing the youth speake thus proudly, ha­ [...] the sparkes of honor fresh vnder the cinders of pouer­ [...], [...] with loue and valor (two things to animate the most [...] Thersites to enter combate against Hcrcules) answered thus.

Unknowen yongster of Thessaly, if the feare of thy har­die deedes, were like the Diapason of thy threates, wee woulde thinke the Castle of longer stege, than either our a­ges would permit, or out valour aduenture: but where the shelfe is most shallowe, there the water breakes most high; emptie vessels haue the highest sounds, bollowe rockes the loudest ecchoes, and prat [...]ing gloriosers, the smallest perfor­maunce of courage; for proofe whereof, séeing thou hast made a rape of faire Samela, one of her vowed Shepheards [Page] is come for the safetie of hir sweete selfe to challenge thée [...] single combat; if thou ouercome me, thou shalt freelie passe with the shepheardesse to Thessaly; if I vanquish thée, thou shalt féele the vurthen of thy rashnesse, and Samela the swéet­uesse of her libertie. Pleusidippus meruailed at the resoluti­on of the shepheard; but when Democles heard how if hee wonne, she should be transported into Thessaly, a world of so­rowes tombled in his discontented braine, that he hammered in his head many meanes to stay the faire Samela; for when Pleusidippus in a great choller was readie to throwe downe his gantlet, and to accept of the combat. Damocles stepped vp and spoke thus: Worthie mirrors of resolued magnani­mitie, whose thoughts are aboue your fortunes, & whose va­lour more than your reuenewes, knowe that Bitches that puppie in hast bring foorth blind whelpes; that there is no herbe sooner sprong vp than the Spattarmia, nor sooner fa­deth; that fruits too soone riye are quickly rotten; that dée [...]es done in hast are repented at leisure: then braue men in so weightie a cause, and for the conquest of so excellent a Para­gon, let not one minute begin and end the quarrell, but like Fabius of Rome vse delay in such dangerous exploytes, when honor fits on wreaths of Lawrell to giue the vistor his garland: deferre it some three daies, and then in solemne manner end the combat. To this good motion not onely Pleusidippus and Melicertus agreed, but all the companis were consenting, and vpon pledges of truce being giuen, they rested. But Democles seeing in couerte be could not con­quer, and that in despairing loues, secrecie was no [...], he dispatched letters to the Nobilitie of his court, with straight charge that they should bee in that place within thr [...] dayes with tenne thousand strong. This newes no soouer came to the Generall of his Forces, but leuying so many approued souldiers, he marched secretly by night to the place Demo­cles in his letters had prescribed; and there [...] intertei­ned by the King, they were placde in ambush readie when the signall should be giuento issue out of the place, and per­forme [Page] their Souereignes command. Well, the third day be­ing come, no sooner did Titan arise from the watrie Couche of his Lemman, but these two champions were readie in the listes, accompanied with the route of all the Arcadian shep­heards, and olde Democles whom they had appoynted for one of the Judges. Pleusidippus seeing Melicertus abuāce on his shield the waues of the sea with a Venus sitting vppon them, [...] what the shepheard should be that gaue his armes, & Melicertus was as much amazed to see a strange Thessalian Knight vant his armes without difference; yet being so fraught with direfull reuenge, as they scorned to sa­lute each other so much as with threates, they fell toughly to blowes. Samela standing on top of the turret, and viewing the combate; the poore Ladie grieuing that for her cause such a stratageme should arise in Arcadie, her countenance ful of sorrow, and flonds of teares falling from her eyes, she began to breath out this passion.

Unfortunate Samela born to mishaps, and forepointed to [...] fortunes, whose bloomes were ripened by mischance, and whose fruite is like to wither with despaire; in thy youth sate discoutent pruning her selfe on thy forhead, now in thine age sorrow hides her selfe amongst the wrinckles of thy face: thus art thou infortunate in thy Prime, and crossed with cō ­trarie accidents in thy Autwnne; as haplesse as Helena to haue the burden of wartes laid on the wings of thy beautie. And who must be the champion? whose sword must pearce the helme of thine enemie? whose bloud must purchase the freedome of Samela, but Melicertus? If he conquer, then Samela triumphs, as if she had been chiefe victor in the O­lympiades; if he loose, euerie drop falling from his wounds into the center of my thoughts, as his death to him, so shall it be co me the ende of my loues. my life, and my libertie. As still shee was about to goe forwarde in hir passion, the trumpet sounded and they fell to fight in such furious sorte, as the Arcadians and Democles himselfe wondered to see the courage of the Shepheard, that tied the Knight to such [Page] a sore taske. Pleusidippus likewise feeling an extraordinarie kinde of force, and seeing with what courage the Knight of the shepheards fought, beganne to coniecture diuersly of the [...], and to feare the euent of the combate. On the con­trarie parte, Melicertus halfe wearied with the heauie blowes of Pleusidippus, stoode in a maze howe so yong a wagge should be so expert in his weapon. Thus debating diuersly in their seueral thoughts, at length being both wea­rie, they stepte backe, and leaning on their swordes tooke breath, gazing each vpon other. At last Pleusidippus burst into these speaches.

Shepheard in life, though now a Gentleman in armour, if thy degrée be better, I glorie I am not disgracde with the combate: tell me, how darest thou so farre wrong mee, as to wea [...] mine Armes vpon thy shield:

Princockes (quoth Melicertus) thou liest, they bee mine owne, and thou contrarie to the Lawe of Armes bearest my Creast without difference, in which quarrell, seeing it con­cernes mine honour, I will reuenge it as farre as my loues; and with that he gaue such a charging blowe at Pleusidippus healme, that hee had almost ouerturned him: Pleusidippus [...] not the blowe vnrequitted, but doubled his force; inso­much that the hazard of the battaile was doubtfull, and both of them were faine to take breath againe. Democles seeing his time, that both of them were sore weakened, gaue the watchword, and the ambush leapt out, slaughtered manie of the shepheards, put the rest to flight, tooke the two champi­ons prisoners, and sacking the Castle, carried them and the faire Samela to his Court: letting the Shepheardesse haue her libertie, but putting Melicertus and Pleusidippus in­to a deepe and darke dungeon.

Where leauing these passionate Louers in this Cata­strophe, againe to Doron the homely blunt Shephearde; who hauing been long enamoured of Carmela, much good wooing past betwixte them, and yet little speeding; at last, both of them met hard by the Promontorie of Arcadie, shee [Page] leading foorth her Sheepe, and hee going to see his newe yeand Lambes. As soone as they met, breaking a few quar­ter blowes with such countrey glaunces as they coulde, they geerde one at another louingly. At last Doron manfully be­gun thus.

Carmela by my troth God morrow, tis as daintie to see you abroad, as to eate à messe of sweete milke in July: you are proude such a house doue of late, or rather so good a Hus­wife, that no man may see you vnder a couple of Capons; the Church-yeard may stand long inough [...]re you will come to looke on it, and the Piper may begge for euerie pennie he gets out of your pursse: but it is no matter, you are in loue with some stout Ruffler, and yet poore folkes, such a I am, must be content with porredge: and with that, turning his backe, he smiled in his sleeue to sée howe kindely hee had gi­uen her the bobbe: which Carmela seeing, she thought to be euen with him thus.

Indéede Doron you saye well, it is long since wee met, and our house is a Grange house with you: but we haue ty­ed vp the great Dogge, and when you come you shall haue greene rushes you are such a straunger: but tis no matter; soone hot soone colde, hee that mingles himselfe with draffe, the [...]ogges will eate him: and she that layes her loue on an vnkinde man, shall finde sorrowe inough to eate hir soppes withall. And with that Carmela was so full stomackt that she wept.

Doron to shewe himselfe a naturall young man, gaue her a few kinde kisses to comfort her, and sware that she was the woman he loued best in the whole worlde, and for proofe quoth he, thou shalt heare what I will praise: and you quoth she, what I will performe. [...]nd so taking hand in hand, they kindly sate them downe, and began to discourse their loues in these Eclogues.

[Page]

Dorons Eclogue ioynd with Carmelas.

Sit downe Carmela here are cubbs for kings,
Slowes blacke as [...], or like my Christmas shoes,
Sweete Sidar which my leathren bottle brings:
Sit downe Carmela let me kisse thy toes.
Carmela.
Ah Doron, ah my heart, thou art as white,
As is my mothers Calfe or brinded Cow,
Thine eyes are like the slow wormes in the night,
Thine haires resemble thickest of the snow.
The lines within thy face are deepe and cleere
Like to the furrowes of my fathers waine,
Thy sweate vpon thy face do [...]th oft appeare
Like to my mothers [...] and Kitchin gaine.
Ah leaue my toe and kisse my lippes my loue,
My lippes and thine, for I haue giuen it thee:
Within thy cap tis thou shalt weare my gloue,
At foote ball sport thou shalt my champion be.
Doron.
Carmela deare, euen at the golden [...]
That Venus got, such are thy goodly eyes,
When cherries [...] is [...] withall,
Thy breath is like the steeme of [...] pies.
Thy lippes resemble two Cowcumbers faire,
Thy teeth like to the tuskes of fattest swine,
[Page]Thy speach is like the thunder in the aire:
Would God thy toes, thy lips and all were mine.
Carmela.

Doron what thing dooth moone this wishing griefe.

Doron.
Tis Loue Carmela ah tis cruell Loue.
That like a slaue, and caitiffe villaine thiefe,
Hath cut my throate of ioy for thy behoue.
Carmela.

Where was he borne?

Doron.
In faith I know not where.
But I haue had much talking of his dart.
Ay me poore man, with manie a trampling teare,
I feele him wound the [...] of my heart,
What [...] I loue? O [...], I [...] but [...].
What shall I die for loue? O no, not so.
What am I dead? O no my tongue dooth walk [...].
Come kisse Carmela, and confound my [...].
Carmela.
Euen with this kisse, as once my father did.
I seale the sweete in [...]tures of delight:
Before I breake my vowe the Gods forbid,
No not by day, nor yet by [...] some [...].
Doron.
[Page]
Euen with this garland made of Holly-hocks
I crosse thy browes from euerie shepheards kisse.
Heigh hoe how glad am I to touch thy lockes,
My frolicke heart euen now a free man is,
Carmela.
I thanke you Doron, and will think [...] on you,
I loue you Doron, and will winke on you.
I [...] your charter pattent with my thummes,
Com [...] kisse and part for feare my mother comes.

Thus ended this merrie Eclogue betwixte Doron and Carmela: which Gentlemen if it be stufft with pretie Si­miles and farre fetcht [...]; thinke the poore Coun­trey Louers knewe no further comparisons, than came within compasse of their Countrey [...]. Well, [...] a good worlde when such simplicitie was vsed, sayes the olde women of our time, when a ring of a rush woulde tye as much Loue together as a [...] of golde: but Gentle­men since wee haue talkte of Loue so long, you shall giue me leaue to shewe my opinion of that [...] fancie thus.

Sonetto.

What thing is Loue! It is a [...]
That raines in vs: or else a [...] law
That doomes our mindes to beautie to encline:
It is a starre whose influence dooth draw
Our hearts to Loue dissembling of his might,
Till he be master of our hearts and sight.
[Page]Loue is a discord and a strange diuorce
Betwixt our sense and reason, by whose power
As madde with reason we admit that force,
Which wit or labour neuer may deuoure,
It is a will that brooketh no consent:
It would refuse, yet neuer may repent.
Loue's a desire, which for to waite a time,
Dooth loose an age of [...], and so doth passe
As dooth the shadow seuerd from his prime,
Seeming as though it were, yet neuer was.
Leauing hehinde nought but repentant thoughts
Of daies ill spent, for that which profits noughts.
Its now a peace, and then a sodaine warre,
A hope consumde before it is conceiude,
At hand it feares, and menaceth a farre,
And he that gaines is most of all deceiude:
It is a secret hidden and not knowne,
Which one may better feele than write vpon.

Thus Gentlemen haue you heard my verdite in this So­netto, now will I returne to Doron and Carmela, who not seeing her mother come, fell againe to a few homely kis­ses, and thus it was.

After they had thus amorously ended their Eclogues, they plighted faith and troth; and Carmela verie brisklye wiping her mouth with a white apron sealed it with a kisse, which Doron taking merueilous kindly, after a little play­ing loath to depart, they both went about their businesse. Leauing them therefore to their businesse, again to Demo­cles; who seeing no intreaties would serue to perswade Sa­mela to loue, neither the hope of the Arcadian Crowne, nor the title of a Queene, lastly assayed with frownes and threates, but all in vaine: for Samela first restrained by na­ture in that he was her Father, and secondly by loue in that Melicertus lay imprisoned onely for her sake, stoode still so [Page] stiffe to her tackling, that Democles chaunging loue into hate, resolued to reuenge that with death, which no meanes els might satisfie: so that to colour his frauds withall, he gaue Samela free license to visite Melicertus: which she had not long done, but that by the instigation of the old King, the gailor confederate to his treacherie, accuseth her of adulte­tie: whervpon without further witnesse they both were con­temned to dye. These two louers knowing themselues guiltlesse in this surmised faction, were ioyfull to ende their loues with their liues, and so to conclude all in a fatall and finall content of mindes and passions. But Democles set free Pleusidippus, as afraide the King of Thessaly would reuenge the wrong of his Knight, intertaining him with sumptuous banquets, as befitted so braue and worthie a Gentleman. The day came prefixed wherein these parties should die; Samela was so desirous to end her life with her friend, that she would not reueale either vnto Democles or Melicertus what she was; and Melicertus rather chose to die with his Samela, than once to name himself Maximius. Both thus resolued, were brought to the place of execution; and [...] Pleusidippus sitting on a scaffolde with Democles, sée­ing Samela come forth like the blush of the morning, felt an vncouth passion in his mind, and nature began to enter com­bate with his thoughtes; not loue but reuerence, not fancie but feare began to assaile him, that he turnd to the King, and sayd: Is it not pitie Democles, such diuine beautie should be wrapt in cinders: No quoth Democles, where the an­ger of a King must be satisfied. At this answere Pleusidip­pus wrapt his face in his cloake and wept, and all the assis­tants grieued to see so faire a creature subiect to the violent rage of fortune. Well Democles commaunded the deaths­man to doo his deuoyre; who knéeling downe and crauing pardon, readie to giue Melicertus the fatall stroake, there slept out an olde woman attired like a Prophetesse, who cri­ed out; Uillaine hold thy hand, thou wrongest the daughter of a King. Democles hearing the outcrie, and seeing that at [Page] that word the people begun to mutinie and murmur, deman­ded the olde woman what she meant: Now quoth she, De­mocles is the Delphian [...] performed; Neptune hath yéelded [...] the worlds wonder, and that is young Pleusidip­pus nephew to thée, and sonne to faire Sephestia, who heere standeth vnder the name of Samela, cast vpon the Promon­torie of Arcadie with her yong sonne, where shee as a shep­heardesse hath liude in labours tempred with loues; her [...] playing on the shore, was conueyed by certaine Pirates into Thessaly, where (when as he was supposed euerie waye to be dead) doing déedes of chiualrie, he fulfilled the prophecie: your highnesse giuing the Lyon, were guid vnto the lambs in dissembling your selfe a shepheard: planets resting vpon the hills, was the picture of Venus vpon their crests: & the seas that had neither ebbe nor tide, was the combate twixte the father and the sonne, that gaue the waues of the seas in their shields, not able to vanquish one another, but parting with equall victorie. For know Democles this Melicertus is Maximius, twice [...] to Sephestia, and Father to yong Pleusidippus: nowe therefore the Oracle fulfilled, is the happie time wherein Arcadie shal rest in peace. At this, the people gaue a great shout, and the olde woman vanisht. Democles as a man rauisht with an extasie of sodaine ioye, sate still, and stared on the face of Sephestia: Pleusidippus in all dutie leapt from his seate, and went and couered his mother with his [...], crauing pardon for the fondnesse of his incestuous affection: & knéeling at his fathers feete sub­misse in that he had drawen his sword, & sought his life that first in this world gaue him life. Maximius first looked on his wife, and seeing by the line aments of her face that it was Sephestia, fell about her necke, and both of them weping in the bosome of their sonne shed teares for ioye to see him so braue a Gentleman. Democles all this while sitting in a trance, at last calling his senses together, séeing his daughter reuiued, whom so cruelly for the loue of Maximius he had [...] out his confines, Maximius in [...], and the childe [Page] a matchles paragon of approued chiualrie, he leapt from his seate, and imbraced them all with teares, crauing pardon of Maximius and Sephestia: and to shew that the outward ob­iect of his watrie eies, had a sympathie with the inward pas­sion of his hart, he impald the head of his yong neuew Pleu­sidippus with the crowne and diadem of Arcadie: and for that his brother Lamedon had in all distresse not lefte his daughter Sephestia, he toke the matter so kindly, that he re­conciled himselfe vnto him, and made him Duke in Arcady. The successe of this forerehearsed Catastrophe growing so comicall, they all concluded after the Festiuall solemnizing of the Coronation (which was made famous with the ex­cellent déedes of manie worthie Caualiers) to passe into Thessaly, to contract the mariage twixt Pleusidippus, & the daughter of the Thessalian King. Which newes spred tho­rough Arcadie as a wonder, that at last it came to Mena­phons eares; who hearing the high parentage of his sup­posed Samela, seeing his passions were too aspiring, and that with the Syrian wolues he barkt against the Moone, he lefte such lettice as were too fine for his lips, and courted his old loue Pesana, to whom shortly after he was married. And le [...]t there should be left any thing vnperfect in this pastorall acci­dent, Doron smudgde himselfe vp, and iumpde a marriage with his old friend Carmela.

FINIS.

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.