CHAP. I.

AT the time when Romes foundation was 1164. years standing, and after she had been governed by an Emperour 25. years, under the name of Honorius; It happened, that Alaricke, King of the Goths, in­fested Romes Territories with a better Army then good Cause, having no pretence for what he did, but the daily promptings of a bad Genius: For when Isidorus the Her­mite (a man of great authority amongst the Religious, and of highest estimation with the Vulgar, exemplary both in life and conversation) met with this Enthusiastick Tyrant, and disswaded him from drink­ing the blood of Innocents, whilst there was not the least thirst, oc­casioned by excitation of any heat that was between them; he was answered by the same Alaricke, that there was a man that came daily to him, and would not let him rest, but uncessantly perswaded him to march to Rome, destroy her Inhabitants, and rase her walls, whom he could not in any way resist: Which so astonished the poore Her­mite, that he departed from him, with these (onely) words in his mouth, Vereor, heu vereor.

Two yeeres the Capitoll ecchoed to the Gottish Drummes, before it answered to the word Yeeld: Which when Necessity had once taught it how to speak so strange a language, amongst the miserable, Honoria, [Page 2] Romes glory, and her Sexes wonder, (having lost her aged Grand­father under the walls of Rome, and two younger brothers, Nephews to the Emperour, who having not strength enough to fight against the Enemie, wanted not Piety in attempting to bring their father off, but were both mowed downe by the same Sithe, which knew no diffe­rence betweene the tallest Bent, and the most tender Flowers) fol­lowes Bertaldo her elder brother, who was fled before through a sea (which though stormy, yet) lesse raging then the Tyrants fury: thus forsaking the Calabrian for the Carthaginian shore; where like the Sunne (appearing to a heathen people) she found many Adorers, a­mongst the rest, Lorenzo, Prince of Carthage, and all the Territories round about, who requited the captivity of her beauty with captiva­ting her Person: which he performing with a passion more impulsive then that of Love, attended with Civility, she thus spake unto him:

SIR,

I am nothing, more or lesse, then a leafe which is falne from the tree that made Lawrels for the Roman Emperours; and tost by a wind that hath blown me upon your coast: I perceive you are a man of some authori­ty in these parts; exercise that power, which may make you worthy of re­nowne: (and not in sullying a vertue, which belongs to Princes, which is, to defend and relieve the distressed, and chiefly, Ladies in distresse; the true point of Masculine Nobility.) Sir, you should take me by the Minds Intellect, and not thus hold a Lady by the wrist, overcome a Ro­mane Dame by the Soules Dialect. I have a Mind as much above your reach, as is your state above my misery. You may force flesh and blood, but no more enjoy me, then if you should commit a Rape upon Repentance; and what pleasure can you take in the fruition, when you shall find me as cold to your desires, as is a Corps that's new digg'd up out of its grave. Sir, I dare tell you thus much, Though my locks are gray'd with hoary frosts, and my garments blaucht throughout with these favours of the Ship; and though these eyes, within mine head, vie Controversies with the shooes upon my feet, which should be filled with the saltest waters; that there is a greater Partition between you, and Honour, then all the water that the Earth's Globe hath received into its bosome, hath made a sepa­ration betwixt me, and Rome: if you intend, that, which I feare, as lit­tle, as you shall find Contentment in the prosecution.

Lorenzo having before let goe his hold, now begins to let fall his courage; and (as if he had been Planet-strucken by some She-con­stellated Deitie) to aske her pardon, and to assure her, that she was not so low in her condition, as he was high in his Resolves, to perform all acts of grace and favour in her behalfe, that should seeme most agreeable to her owne liking, calling to witnesse all that was sacred, that he rendred himselfe at her disposall, as true a Convert, as the greatest friend on earth, had cause to boast a merit. Honoria joy'd with the good successe of her own (so well bestowed) language, bids him be constant in his resolution, and be happy. Whereupon he [Page 3] discovers himselfe a Prince of all the Territories round about, and causing his most sumptuous Chariot to be sent for, he seats her in it, and kneeling at the lowest step, he begs the favour of his admittance: she bends both her body, and discourse, to lay hold upon all the Ci­vilities that might helpe him up; applauding the exuberance of so great humanity, shewed to a person, who sate there, as a meere ob­ject of his clemencie. The commanded haste, which the Charioteere soone made, to the Royall Palace (together with the many Questions and Answers which the King and Queene of Love made to one ano­ther) shortned the way, that brought them to so glorious a structure, as if one of Jupiters birds had built his nest in the Sun; which dazled the eyes of its beholders.

The Palace was seated on the side of a hill, whereby though there were many buildings, yet not any one obscur'd the rest, but all like so many yearly children of a right Architectist, stood in so many several degrees one above another. Before the house there glided a soft streame, smiling upon the flowery Bankes, whose depth rather re­ceived Bargemen then Navigators. All along which River there was a fruitfull Valley, that yeelded a most pleasant prospect, which a man might easily behold without losing his owne eyes. Above the Palace, a Hill, almost compassed the Seate, in forme of a Moone Cressant, opening to receive the benefit of the pleasing Zephirs, and a Grove betweene, answerable to the shape and manner of the Hill. Adjoyning whereunto, in proportion, was a goodly Orchard, and next unto the House, a faire Garden, whose Platt was contrived upon such a hang­ing Levell, whose proclivitie was so insensible, that you might walke upwards upon plaine ground, and downe againe, without descent. Upon the midst whereof, was a liberall Fountaine, which was no lesse servient to the Grotts for Water-works, then to the House for use. No tunnells of any Chimney were to be seene above the house, but the Chimneys of every Square were so contrived all back to back, that they sent up their conveyance so close drawne up together, that over so many severall places of the Palace, there was nothing more to be seen then so many tripartited walls, with Benches for to sit up­on, either opening to the Sunne, or affording shade, from what part of the Firmament soever the Sunne should cast his Beames, as favours, or persecutions. Upon the side of every wall, there attended the Suns motion, Dials, that took constant notes of all the progresse. At the corner of each wall, were Pendents, and in the midst, higher then all the rest, a larger Pendent, having the Princes Armes cut through, whose thorough light made the Chardge Sables, and the Field, Azure, or Skie-colour; serving as well for ornament as use. Neither was the Contrivement lesse beneficiall, respecting the three walls sheltridge from the foure winds. The comming up to the Palace, was over a faire River, and along a two-arched stately Bridge, between which and the Palace, was a stately Launt, five hundred and fifty paces, with a double row of trees on both sides; in each double row a Foot­walk, [Page 4] wherein three might goe abreast; and in the middle a faire gravell rise for the Chariot and the Horse; which led through a faire Parke, no lesse enamell'd with store of Deere, then shadowed with the goodliest trees; which brought you to a Building, whose con­trivements were all sonnes and daughters of Uniformity and Beauty.

The Prince (having shewed her all that is described, and having brought her with all his Attendant Lords and Ladies to the top of the Palace) tells her (before them all) that all that she had seene within those walls, and all that her eyes beheld without, should be hers, upon no other condition, but that she should be his.

Honoria (perceiving that she was now put to act the two parts both of Modesty and Discretion) answered him in these words:

WORTHY SIR,

In my weake opinion, you doe not deale so kindly with me, as if you would have me live: You cannot be ignorant of the danger that is in ta­king a poore hunger-starv'd wretch, and tempting her owne appetite to be her ruine, in setting before her so many dishes, and plentifull varieties. I have beene fed with sorrow a long time, and have had no moisture wherewith I might quench my thirsting after comfort, but my owne teares; and now you cram me with delights: what can be expected, but that I should soone surfet with the joyes wherewith you fill a heart that is too narrow to containe the moitie of your bounty and goodnesse? I see here in your presence, choice of faire and honourable Ladies, daughters to Felicity, and right heires to Happinesse: Tell me but which you like, and my needle shall worke her such a wedding garment, as it may be Carthage never saw the like; and this is all the favour I shall beg, or thinke my selfe worthy of.—

She (seeing him stand amazed) urged him farther with these words (so modestly spoken) I pray Sir, let it be so, it may be I may be thought worthy for to wait upon her.

No, (said the Prince) they shall all attend on thee, and thinke them­selves no more or lesse happy then according to the degrees of favour that thou shalt ranke them in, and their merits, at thy hands, shall purchase estimation. For (by all that's sacred) before the morrowes Sunne shall reach to its Meridian, thou shalt be mine. Doe not you stand so much up­on refusall, lest you make us thinke, that you Romanes have an art be­yond us, to make your selves more acceptable by crowning your Perfecti­ons with Humility. Come, let's goe, and what thou hast not seen, that shall be thine; Ile shew thee farther.—Whereupon leading her by the arme, he delighted himselfe (in supposing how much he delight­ed her) in shewing her all his Rarities and Treasures.

All his attendants (especially they of the Female Sexe) were not (as yet) more affected with envie of her happinesse, then they were pleased with the humble manner of her behaviour, untill their second thoughts had placed their envies right against her: construing that [Page 5] Modestie, as a piece of cunning, to attract Honour (the more) by flying it; and to draw his love more and more towards her, by seem­ing to refuse it. This night, the honourable women, by commande­ment from the Prince, attended Honoria; who the next day, as their Princesse, was to command their attendance. Which day being come, the time of that day allotted for the solemnization of so great a Marriage was at hand: when they were both made one, with the greatest pompe and ceremony that could be devised, which I leave to your owne imaginations to supply the place of a description. But one thing I must not omit, because it was so ominous to that, which after happened: For at the same time whilst the Priest was joyning the Hands of those whose Hearts were one already, Blood gusht from his nostrils, and at once stain'd the two maine preservers both of Knowledge and Devotion, the sacred Directory, and the Priests lips; and made the very word which ensured the Prince his love unto Ho­noria, Rubrick in the Lyturgie. Which though the standers by in­terpreted it as a bad Omen, yet the parties themselves, guarded with Innocence, and Thoughts as noble as their Resolutions towards each other, disdain'd to understand it a presage of evill.

No lesse prodigious was that of the Dishes being serv'd up to the Bridall Board with a noise of the Cloud-cleaving thunder of the Al­mighty, and with Lightnings from the severall windowes crossing the meat: Which was not construed, as a benediction, by those who did observe it; and they who were least superstitious, were (notwith­standing) somewhat out of countenance to behold such sad Pottents: which the Princely Bride perceiving, thus spake unto her better part:

MY LORD,

Why should you and I be troubled at these accidents, seeing it lies within our power to make them nothing? If you should once speak harsh to me, that thunder would be terrible in mine eares; neither can I feare the blasting of any Lightning, but what may (unhappily) have its pro­cedure from your eyes; and when I deserve either, may I meet with both. The Priests blood dropt not upon our hands, but upon his booke; whilst these are pure and innocent, we need not feare. Though the blood fell up­on the Letter, it did not fall upon the meaning that was between us. Be you but constant to these vowes which you have made, and it shall not lie within the power of Fate to work our prejudice.

My deare Honoria, (reply'd the Prince) I am glad that these things have happened thus, since they have given thee occasion to make Superstition such a foole. Look, my Deare, it cleares up already, thy breath hath rais'd the Siege that had so close begirt the inclosed fires, that sallied forth in thunder; and thy smiles have already dispell'd the Clouds that sate on every countenance. Come, let us sit downe, and better our Commons with exceedings both of mirth and jollity.—

It happened (whilst these affaires were in agitation) that Bertaldo [Page 6] Brother to Honoria, and Nephew to the Emperour Honorius, some­times Governour of Cilicia, (a man of admirable Prowesse, and much Gallantry) one who had expressed it sufficiently against the Goths, (having slaine with his owne hands Amboyolus, Brother to Alarick, King of the Goths) escaped the Gottish Inquisition, and conceal'd himselfe for some time heretofore in that Country) came to heare of the good fortune which his sister met withall by flying from so sad a fate, (where finding her fixed amongst the highest Con­stellations of that Firmament, and hearing that there were Justs and Tournaments to be performed in the after-noone in honour of the day) he engaged a rich Jewel, which he had brought over with him, and slipt himselfe into the most compleat Armour that the time would give him leave, and mounted himselfe upon the bravest horse that money could buy. When the Prince and Princesse were seated, with all the Lords and Ladies of the Court, he entred the Lists amongst the other Tilters (disguis'd as the rest were) who therefore could not wonder at any other strangenesse, but that their number should exceed by one, they knew not who, and come amongst them, they knew not how: wherefore he was soone ac­costed by the Herauld, who demanded of him what he was, and upon what Accompt he entred the Lists: to whom Bertaldo gave this Answer:

Sir, I am a Stranger, that seek renowne in Forraigne parts, and oppotunity offers me a purchase at your hands: I require my Match if if he be to be found amongst the Carthaginians. Amongst the Cartha­ginians? (said the Herauld) that you shall soone find. And so left him, declaring to the rest, the contents, of what had passed betweene him and the strange Knight: the newes of so bold a Challenge was soon brought into the eares of the highest Spectators, who fraught with wonder, summon'd all their intellectualls; out of which they chose a Committee of Divining thoughts to make enquiries who it should be, but could not draw up a report: the Combatants dis­daining, that such a bold expostulation should proceed from a stranger, to the disparagement of the Carthaginian Chivalry, if not chastised for his presumption: they all strove who should undertake him first: and not agreeing otherwise, they all resolved to cast Lots to whose turn the Enterprize should fall; but the Prince fearing that the Lot might fall to the most unskilfull, and weakest, to undertake so high a piece of Confidence; and so the glory of the Carthagini­ans might happen to be eclipsed, commanded Cosdruball, Captain of his Guard, a man of highest eminence and esteeme in all that Country, and one that never had been foil'd in point of Chivalry, to undertake the Challenger, which was obeyed, and thus per­formed.

Cosdruball mounted upon a Milk-white Steed, having a silver Mane, that reacht (curling) downe to his knees, with his Launce in his hand, and Sword by his side, in gilded Armour, enters the Lists, [Page 7] (his horse out-noising all the Trumpets with his neighings) and pre­pares himselfe for the Encounter, against whom was brought Ber­taldo upon a bright Bay, with black Spots over all his body, and a white Star in his Fore-head, having a goodly Mane mingled with black and brown Haires: Drake-neckt, mouse-ear'd, full-ey'd, and open nostrils, pawing with one Foot upon the ground, and pricking up his Eares, as if he delighted rather to hear, then mar the musick of the Trumpets: Blowing, as if he stomackt the delay, and waving his body up and downe, as if idlenesse were a greater burden to him then action: All which signes of goodnesse in his Horse put Bertaldo in good hopes, that he should make his words good, which he pro­mised to his late Master in his behalf: who hearing his late Master speak by way of commendation of his Horse, (he was then selling to Bertaldo) viz. That he was a Lambe in the Stable, and a Peacock upon the Road; answered, that he would teach him how to be a Lyon in the Field.

Thus all in Armour silver'd ore, with a mourning Ribbond a crosse his Armour; and a black plume of Feathers in his Helmet, with a Launce in his hand, and Sword by his side: He sate his Horse in such a comely posture, that his Princely Sister could not but think of him, who was the Man she thought of, her own Brother: the signall was thrown down on the rush, like lightning upon one another; and he that was never worsted in all his life, was now un­hors'd upon the first Encounter: Which Cosdruball, not knowing how to brook, requested that he might run againe, and trie his for­tune once more; which being against the Lawes of Chivalry for him that was Unhors'd to trie a second Combate, was denyed it by the Herauld: and his fellow Tilters (hoping to re-gaine immor­tall Honour, by repairing that mis-fortune with a better) stickled so much against him, that he (scorning nothing more then that the glo­ry of vindicating the Carthaginian honour should fall to anothers share) therewith was so outed of all moderation and reason, both at once, (by a strong passion that too often had been his enemie) that he struck at one of them, and the other foure vindicated the first: so that they all five fell upon him. Which Bertaldo perceiving, takes part with his Antagonist; by whose assistance, Cosdruball held long play with all the five, and two of them were dismounted, and sore wounded in the face, and between the joynts of their armour, and both of them, by the brave Bertaldo; whose sword at the last break­ing, he took one of their horses by one of the cheeks of the bit, whose horse being tender mouth'd, rear'd so up an end, that it gave occasion for a lesser strength, then what Bertaldo had, to throw horse and man backward over and over: Whereupon the Prince threw down his Warder, commanding his Guard to part them, which was done ac­cordingly. But Cosdruball by this time having turned his Envie a­gainst Bertaldo into Admiration, and his Choller into Complement, thus spake unto him:

[Page 8] SIR,

You have expressed a great deale of Gallantry, both against me, and on my behalfe. Let me be so happy as to know your name, lest you make me beleeve some Deity hath fought this day in Armour.

Bertaldo about to reply, using the same reverence which Honoria had observ'd him for to shew on Horseback unto the Romane Empe­rour, whilst he thankt him (upon his returne) from some good ser­vice, cryed out, It is my Brother, my deare Brother, deare Bertaldo, I know it is he.

Whereat the Prince astonished, sends for them all to come before him; who having uncased, were presented to the Royall Paire as the true instruments of valour; But no Musique affected the Royall Princesse eare so much, as when she heard her Brother speak, whom she presented to the Prince, her Husband, who acknowledged him­selfe much honoured with his relation to a man of so great Gallan­try; offering him to be no lesse then what he would be, that lay within the power of his Dominions to make him so; wherefore he bad him freely to speak his minde, or to take some further time for his demands.

Bertaldo soone reply'd, Great Prince, there needs no long time to be given me to request that at your hands, which of all other things I most desire.

Speak it then, (said Lorenzo) and upon the word of a Prince it shall be granted presently.

Then Sir, (said Bertaldo) I desire nothing more then that you would love my Sister.

At which words, the Prince rushes into his armes, and embracing him, told him, That he had requested nothing, for greater love then that he bare already towards his Sister, he could not shew: But this he had gained by so great an expression of his love to her, that he could love him no lesse with all his soule, then her with all his heart. And seeing his modestie would not make knowne unto him any farther desires, he was contented (for his merits sake) to be the hardest Stu­dent, untill he had found out wayes to make him happy. With such love-expressions between these two Worthies, as also betweene Ber­taldo and Cosdruball, the Prince and Princesse, Honoria, and her bro­ther, with variety of delights and pastimes, Musick and Dancings, the rest of the Day, and the borrowed part of the Night, that the maine happinesse could afford to lend their expectations, seemed too small a contribution to satisfie the desires of those who now began to wax sad with thinking how their happinesse must end, with a begin­ning of that felicity whereof they were no sharers, but so far forth as they could make it theirs by fancy: The time being come, that the Queen of Beauty must be taken by the Ministers to the throne of Love, out of the hand of her beloved, where she might be placed by his side; she taking her leave with a reverend, yet Prinely behaviour, and went before that she might be come to, rather then come at man: [Page 9] where she was no sooner laid in her bed, but all the Honourable wo­men fell in love with her, (except Amarissa, a faire Lady, whose qua­lity we shall defer to mention till the last: It shall suffice for the pre­sent, that she was one who formerly conceived hopes of having some assurance of the Prince's love, who sate at the beds feet, behind the Curtaine, with her face from the bed, weeping) and with no lesser sensibilities of delight, then as if their owne imaginations had meta­morphosed them all to men, standing on both sides the bed, holding Tapers in their hands, and gazing upon that lovely object, whose so many faces cast one so out of countenance, that she made signes with her hand that they should be gone; and then recollecting her selfe, as fearing that they might judge the dismission a making haste for her Husbands approach, her blushes forc'd a passage so powerfully into her countenance, that she was faine to attempt a suppression with both her hands: And lest any of the red should slip an apparance through her white fingers, she throwes the sheet over her head, so that their eyes forsooke their object, as objects vanish from the eye-sight, when the light is gone.

Word being brought, that the Prince thought their Ceremonies too tedious, they sighed forth their extasies with such a strong gale of wind, whose breath swell'd each contrary Curtaine, as if by those full sailes they had been transported to themselves againe; and so left her: Onely Amarissa stay'd behind, unmissed, and unregarded, until such time, that the Prince with all his Nobles entred the Cham­ber, who entertained him with this sad Prologue to the Play:

SIR,

Had you no other way to step into your Nuptiall bed, but by treading upon a heart, that so much lov'd and honour'd you? to abuse a beliefe, that once thought you could not erre? What delight is this you take, to raise with one hand, and destroy with t'other? to fill one creature so full of joy with an unexpected fruition, and strangle another in the-midst of all her hopes? Sir, you did not well: There is that within you, and there be those without you, that will not stick to tell you so: and with that she flung out of the Chamber, in the greatest disdaine, both to her Soveraigne, and her bad fortune, that could be imagined.

Bertaldo, who loved a spirit, (howsoever qualified) was mightily taken with her, (whose comportment it seemes well suted with his humour) wherefore he thus spake unto the Prince:

SIR,

You were once pleased to bid me aske and have; now I onely aske, that I may have this Lady, or at least your approbation and assistance.

To whom the Prince returned this quick Reply:

My deare Bertaldo, I will not onely grant thee this, but assure thee, were I a woman my selfe, thou shouldst have me.

Whereat the Princely Bride raising her selfe up a little in her bed, said,

My Lord, I pray tell me truly, have you promis'd the Lady marriage, [Page 10] that seem'd to be so much perplext through some unconstancie on your behalfe?

To whom the Prince made answer,

Upon my word I never promis'd her any such thing, and I know she's more noble then to say I did.

Oh Sir, (said the Princesse) I beg that I might heare her but acknow­ledge what you say, before you come betweene these sheets, or else I shall never enjoy you nor my selfe: For I protest before all that's good, that I had rather embrace a heartlesse, then a faithlesse man: And as soone shall Steele strike fire without a Flint, as either of us can enjoy Felicity, where both have not kept touch with mutuall Loyaltie.

The Prince protested againe by Heaven, he never did promise that he would marry her.

Then said the Princesse, Did not you tell her that you loved her? tell me truly; and so made her beleeve too much? Did you never give her any Rings or Favours?

The Prince confessed that he had done all that.

Whereat the Princesse as over-sensible of the sad condition that the poore Lady was in, gently wiping the teares that were even ready to overflow their bankes, told him that he had done too much, to doe no more; and that she feared, that was not all.

Whereat the Prince, deeply wounded with her sorrow, told the Princesse, that he would have her sent for, and would engage her ho­nour in testification of that truth which he had said; and for the wrong which she conceived that he had done the Lady, in telling her, in a generall way, he loved her: or in bestowing some particular fa­vours upon her, he would make her this amends:

Here is Bertaldo, (said the Prince) as much in love with her, as ever she was with me; a man every way deserving her affection, with stronger pleas of merit, then I my selfe can boast of; (onely he's not a Prince.) And rather then thou shouldst build a discontent on such foundations, he shall be Prince of Carthage, and I will be Bertaldo: And (said the Princesse) I will be Amarissa, and she shall be Honoria. Let her be sent for.—

Whereupon the Prince commanded two of his Noblemen to go and tell Amarissa that her company was much desired, who all this while had hid her selfe in a place where she both saw and heard all that had been said, or done: And being overcome with the Princesse goodnesse, thinking her selfe by this time sufficiently revenged, in finding Honoria (already) a partaker with her, in her affli­ction, and so sensible of her owne and hers, she answered that sen­sibility with a deepe sense of both their willingnesse to give her so full a satisfaction, for so small a fault, as was neither a reall wrong, nor a compleat injury: but especially by reason of those sparkles of fire which Bertaldo's words had kindled in her breast, which began (already) to smother under that vast load of fuell which former love had prepared for so high an inflamation. In she [Page 11] comes of herself, before she was either lookt for by them, or found by their Ambassadours, upon whose approach, the Prince thus spake unto her:

Madam, As you have relation unto Honour, be a friend to Justice; and let no passion prejudice the truth, that onely must confesse I often said I lov'd you, and that I gave you pledges of my love, I have acknowledged it; but that those pledges might not have been given as well unto a thing call'd Man, as unto you as Woman, (seeing I never promised you Mar­riage, or gave them you in any such consideration) I see no reason.

To which Amarissa thus reply'd,

SIR,

It seemes I did not understand your dialect, nor the language of your gifts: I must confesse, I thought, that (being a woman) professing love to such a one, (and I never questioned any other but what was honoura­ble) had no other signification, but what it seemes you never meant: and your gifts, no otherwise, then so many pledges of that love: But I am contented to be mistaken; my griefs are now epitomiz'd to this small Volume. I am sorry I am not a Man, (as you took me to be) for then would I love Honoria better then your selfe, and so be even with you. Wherefore be ever happy, Honoria, in his love, and if my contentment may contribute any thing to that accomplishment, you have it freely: Imbrace him, as the Ivie doth the tree, murmur together like two Tur­tle-doves, and kisse as close as Cockles meet, I envie not your happi­nesse.

Bertaldo fir'd with this brave carriage, tells Amarissa that she is the greatest Conquerour in the world, thus to rout her passions, and over­come her selfe, (not knowing the meanes whereby she got the victory) and that if she could love a man under the degree of a Prince, she might find happinesse to crowne her desires, besides that which Prin­ces weare upon their heads.

Amarissa made quick reply, saying,

A Woman was not taken out of the scull of Man, whereby she should so much affect that ornament; but out of his side, that she might sit neare his heart: Where if she were once duly seated, she ought to think her selfe sufficiently crown'd with hearts content.

Come, Amarissa, (said the Prince) behold the Prince of Chivalrie, and the sonne of Mars: sole Executor to all the goods in the Temple, of honour and of vertue, heire to Fortune, and one to whom Fame hath as­sign'd over her right; a man to whom the world owes more then it's able to pay: Love him, and be as happy as thou wilt.

Which words the Princesse seconded with these:

Love him, and you shall not lose your first love; For Lorenzo being my selfe, and I yours, Bertaldo and Amarissa shall so agree in a third person, that foure shall be happy all at once. Love me, said Bertaldo, and I will teach Love it selfe new delights that it never dreamt of, and make it ashamed of its old wayes, as if they were out of fashion.

As to you, Sir, (said Amarissa, applying her selfe to the Prince) [Page 12] you have described a gallant man: And I shall no otherwise answer your Encomium of him, then with Beliefe: And your words (to the Prin­cesse) with no lesse respect, then in laying them to a heart that truly ho­nours you: And in requitall of your good opinions of me, I will answer the respect with an act of the greatest contentment to you both, that either of you can imagine; in taking my leave of you, and keeping you no longer out of Paradise. And as to you, Bertaldo, I shall commit you to the greatest happinesse, when I leave you to your selfe: And so Good night, and Hap­pinesse to you all.

Bertaldo, as if his soule were making an escape, hastened after her, with so much respect to her, as shewed but little to the Prince and Princesse, (who notwithstanding, were best pleased with the manner of his departure) and overtakes her, before she had got halfe way to her Chamber, and waiting upon her to the doore, he kiss'd her hand, calling it his Altar: her selfe, his Shrine: the place, his Chap­pell: and (making a low obeisance) that his Adoration, she dismiss'd him onely with this assurance of her favour towards him, that in her owne nature she was enclin'd to mercy, and hoped she should not put him to too many prayers: And so they parted.

CHAP. II.

THe married couple had no sooner falne into those sweet slumbers, (in one anothers armes) in the Cradle, where­in Hymeneus uses to rock his paires, but a Heart-pene­trating voice gives musick to their eares, (whose stops were sobs, and aire was sighes) unbound their senses, which were fastned in a True-loves knot, and disturb'd them in that soft repose, they both listned to the Lamentation, and at the first, they both concluded, that Amarissa had come back againe, and pri­vily conveyed her selfe into the roome, purposely to cast so sowre a sauce into their dish. At last, they asked Who it was? and bade her speake, saying, that they thought she had gone away fully satisfied.

I (replyed the Voice) am the sad genius of now poore and miserable Amynda, whose soule hovers in the aire betweene Damascus and Jeru­salem, and has no rest, by reason I was accessarie to an act of high in­justice. I was sometime a servant to the High-borne Princesse Cosbia, who was delivered of two sonnes, one of them being a faire and goodly Child, the other seem'd to be not so well favour'd with naturall endow­ments. The best favoured was the youngest, the lesse the elder, whom she caused to be accounted as her youngest sonne; and us, to keep her counsell, which we did accordingly: so that Berontus the right heire, was all a­long esteemed to be the younger brother, who (as if his divining soule could not be contented with a lesser degree of Fortune, then that which the God of Nature had already given him) seekes better in the worlds wide­nesse, while he was yet a Stripling, and Jacomius (the younger) was bred up to all the good qualities that education could afford him, and is unjustly likely to inherit that vast Estate which his Father left him, beside the Dukedome that was to descend unto him after the death of his Great Un­cle, (if your mercie towards my distressed condition, and love to Justice, doe not help to set things right) acquainting him with the names, and places of the women, and their habitations, that were at the Labour of this great Lady; she implores his assistance for pitty sake, promi­sing him faithfully, that if he would doe this good worke for her, he should never want her assistance to give him the best intelligence for his good, or the avoidance of any evill that should befall him.

As much as Wonder and Amazement would give him leave, he promised faithfully to effect what she desir'd; the voice was heard no more, after these her last words, What you have promised, look you doe [Page 14] performe: Which words were no sooner out of his mouth, but they could heare a melodious Harmony, as the Musick of the Sphaeres in comparison therewith would seeme but jarring; and so (as if it went farther and farther off, till it went so far, as past their hearing) they were permitted to their former sweetnesse of repose. When as the Prince perceiving how Sleep (that dull thiefe) began to steale upon him, fearing that he might obliterate those penall notions out of his Memorandum, starts upright in his bed, Honoria clasping him by the middle, and asking him, What would my Love? He answers her, Sweee heart, the Blood, the Thunder, and the Lightning, that the Priests Booke, the Eares, and Eyes of all that were observers of those Prodigies, bid me be circumspect, and omit no opportunities, that may make Fate her selfe runne back with all her Monsters in her armes. Whereupon he stept out of his bed, and onely cloathing himselfe with his Night-gowne, he opened his doore, where the Guard, which watcht in the Gallery, were so amaz'd, that it was a long time before his commands could be obey'd. At the last, they lighted his Candle at the Lamp. Which done, he retires into his Chamber, and com­mits all the particulars to writing, that had been told him by his late informer. Which having done, he betakes himselfe to his former place of rest, but found little there: For, scarce had Whyes, and Whi­thers, and What aylst thou's, with stroakings, and expostulations, brought him into the same predicament he was in before, but the A­larum bell rung as if the wooden wheele had sounded mettle. The Guard without cryes, Arme, Arme, Arme, Cosdruball bounces at the doore, and cryes, Sir, pray open your doore, I must speake with you: The Prince starts up, the Princess puls him down again, crying aloud, Ah! This was Amarissas doings, gaule was under her lips, whiles she spake so fair; and aspes hid themselves under the leaves of her pretences, and now sting us ere we be aware. The Prince forcing his own liberty, leaps out of his bed, takes his Javelin in his hand, and in his shirt, opens the doore, and questions the disturbance. Cosdruball with submisse beha­viour acquaints him, that intelligence was brought to the Court that the Moores had swarm'd on his Dominion, and that the Vultrians had revolted to them, and let them in. The Prince asked him if the Moores were at the gates? His Lieutenant Cosdruball answered, No. But they were within 60. miles, That's six dayes march (said the Prince) I hope I may have one nights rest, and to morrow I am a ser­vant to my Country-men. Cosdruball, here's my Seal, issue forth what Warrants you shall think most sit to set the Country in a posture of defence, and to morrow I will be in the head of the most resolute party.

He had no sooner said these words, but in comes Amarissa, with one Petition in her hand, and another in her mouth: The first was, that Bertaldo might have a competent Command in this De­signe: The second, that he might not. The first, she said, she was bound to performe in point of Honour and Engagement. The second, [Page 15] she humbly begg'd, as a fond lover, and preservatrix of so great a Worthy. Then said the Princesse, Let me be in a capacity of being a Petitioner too, and beg the favour in his behalfe, that it may be thus: That if my Lord goes, he may goe; and if he stayes behind, that he may doe so too. For neither can there be better use made of his worth, then by preserving you: nor Amarissa better merited then by such a pre­servation.

Bertaldo (entring the Chamber) cryes out, Excellently well said my dearest Sister, thy motion is honourable, and thy words are reason.

Then said the Prince, Bertaldo he shall goe, and so will I: Cosdru­ball, you shall be our Lieutenant, Hanno our Major, and you Bertaldo in this Expedition shall act my Part, and I Bertaldo's. I have two suites of Armour that are both the same, and shall make us both one, one apparance shall cast the same colour over both our Horses, our Commands shall strike Unisons in the Souldiers eares, and our Cognizance shall be alike, lest one soule be not sufficient to enliven so great a body. With these directions I dismisse you, for the present, till the day gives further order. For by Heaven, were the Black and Tawny Moores now scaling the walls of Carthage, and Terrour it selfe making its approach under my very walls, I would not leave this red and white, till Phoebus him­selfe should first rise out of his Thetis bed, and blush in my face, to look on my preferment. Great Mars, wreake no vengeante on thy servants head for this presumption, for thine own sake, who thy selfe so often hast neglected thine owne affaires, to dally with a creature that was mortall, whiles I take pleasure in delights (so lawfull) with a creature that is so divine. Begon, begon I say.

They had no sooner departed the Roome, but Aminda's Genius having received no further benefit by him, as yet, but hopes of rest by pramise, sings to him at his window a forewarning of his approaching miseries.

[Page 16] The same voice which Charm'd their eares, lul'd them both asleep, and sleep so soone after admonition is not good: for rest invites the body to lie down in her lap, whilst she picks memorialls out of his head. All was thus forgot, Aurora, the Postillion of the morn jets by the window, at whose heeles the near horses of the Sunne follow the gray with brighter colour: till at last, Phoebus himself lookes in at the window; and darting his beames through the crimson Cur­taine that was drawn before it, made all the bridall whitenesse of the bed look red. Sol, with his sanguine complexion glares through that false medium, upon some part of the Princes eyes which were not closed, whilst he lay dreaming that he was then swim­ming through a stream of Blood, till fresh Alarums of the Moores bloody practises awakened him, and fill'd his ears with the relation. They both started out of their bed at the contrary sides, like two pieces of a broken Bow falling asunder, when its entirenesse was at its full bent.

Thus the after-sports (which the Sonne of Hymeneus would have had) had his further dalliances superseded, like the full-fed Child, that is patted on the hand from playing with his meat. Fresh Alarms follow the heeles of one another, and the High-wayes are scour'd along with posting intelligence. The Court, like the first Chaos, (big with forme) labours by Order (Midwife to Confusion) to produce Method, (the sole life to Action) and at last brought all to good perfection.

Periissa, (a faire Virgin, but of Parentage supposed to be somewhat disparaging, and a Countrey Lasse, but indeed a Lady of highest ex­tract, as hereafter we will mention) happening to have a place upon one of the Scaffolds, (where she beheld the brave comportment of Bertaldo) was so much taken with his behaviour and valour, that she prosecuted her desires of glutting her eyes in beholding that face that attracted all the faculties of her maiden-soule, to admiration of that manly figure. From thence she came to wishes, and the next stage was Love. Her humility was such, (occasioned through ignorance of her owne worth) that she thought it a vaine thing that the Daffedowne-Dilly should be in love with the Lawrell, and the Primrose with the Palme. She had wit enough to keep her hopes at a due distance: and was not such a fool as to be ignorant, that impossibilities would be too hard for her: Wherefore she limits her affections to pro­babilities, and contents her selfe with competent felicity: which she thought to be enough in conscience, if she might be, but in a condi­tion, without controle, dayly to look upon him, which she thus effected.

Having lately call'd into her own hands, a small portion, allotted her by her (supposed) Father, She puts her selfe into Pages habit, (in which disguise, whilst she continues, we will mention her here­after by the name of Philoret; and she must now be he, till he returns to her againe) and tenders (now) his service to Bertaldo. Bertaldo (be­ing [Page 17] in a condition to entertaine more servants then he had leasure to find out, was much delighted with so faire an offer, asking his Ido­latresse many questions, as How, and Wherefore he desired to serve him, rather then any other? and who had commended him unto his service?

Philoret answered him, that the commendations of his owne worth, had made him ambitious of serving such a Master.

Bertaldo told him, that he was now going to the Wars, and the harsh usage of a Campe, would soone spoile so faire a complexion, and alter the colour of the Rose and Cherry upon his Lips and Cheeks, and turne them into pale and wannesse.

Philoret reply'd, Might I but feed upon your leavings, and lie but at your feet, how ever you fare, no usage would be hard.

Bertaldo stroaking his cheeks with both his hands, told him, Thou pretty boy, I will make much of thee, and thou shalt never want, be true to me.

Philoret (over-joy'd) knew not what he did, so that before he was aware, he was going to make him a Cursie, which having perform'd halfe way, remembring himselfe, he fell quite downe at his feet, and so converted an Errour (that would soon have been observed) into the highest observation. Whereupon Bertaldo helps him up againe, with both his hands; Philoret on his feet, fearing the treason of his owne blushes, looks him (with a counterfeited confidence) full in the face, that joy might seem to flourish its red in his face, rather then Mayden-colours. Thus well he acted his part in the first Scene.

CHAP. III.

LOrenzo ready to set forward in his expedition, (atten­ded with all his Heroes) takes Honoria by the hand, and delivers her to Maximanus custody; saying, that he trusted him with the greatest Jewell in the world: Commanding, that neither cost, nor labour, should be spared to purchase her contentment. Maximanus promised, that she should never have any cause to complaine. Honoria, whether her di­vining Soul presaged those after evils, or whether some secret antipa­thy in nature, between her and her Guardian, or her unwillingnesse that her Lord should, and she not goe, began to sink down in a sound; but being held up, and recall'd to her selfe againe, she spake these words:

My Lord,

I know what it is to part with a Father and a Brother, but a Husband never bade me farewell before: and to take his leave of me, to be so coursly us'd, as the chance of Warre might give him entertainment. I know what it is to bid adieu to such, and never see them more: but it was never wont to be thus with me, either this love is of an higher nature, and nearer relation, or else there is more in it then willingly I would imagine. I pray let me goe with you, I have no minde to stay behind.

Alas (reply'd the Prince) what shouldst thou doe amongst a com­pany of rude Souldiers? Stay here, and I will reach thee a Lawrel-bough with mine owne hand, and thou shalt make a wreath, and give it whom thou wilt; and I will bring thee home an Olive Branch, and thou shalt wear it. I but in the mean time (said Honoria) I had rather you would take away this claw of lead that gripes my heart so sore, and squeeses out all the gladnesse thence. Honoria, (said the Prince) no mis-fortune can befall me, whilest I am happy in thy love, which nothing can deprive me of, but that which may lead me to a better life: And if thou think'st my death any mis-fortune, I'le repaire the losse of my Person, with the donation of my Dominion: For here, before all these Nobles, if I fall, there stands the Queen of Carthage. Whereupon Honoria made her last Reply: Long may you live to enjoy that, your selfe; and I, you. So they both parted. She was sorry that he was gone, he disconten­ted that she was sorrowfull. Bertaldo taking his leave of his Sister, and the rest of the Ladies, bids her make much of her self, she, him: [Page 19] That he should have a care of her Husband: And Amarissa prayed Bertaldo that he would not be too ventrous.

The Court (thus) emptyed (almost) of all the Men, Maximanus struts among a Company of Women, like a Major domo of a Sera­glio, (though he was more Satyr then Eunuch) yet for some while he kept on his way, laying hold on all opportunities that might ad­vance him to the Princesse favour: which, when he had once suffici­ently obtained, he thought he had made a faire progresse towards his journeys end, disloyall lust. Good natures are seldome wanting in retalliating good services with acknowledgements, and innocence oftentimes engratiates her owne Subjects with too many free­domes.

Maximanus had often sought occasion to give the Princesse some intimation of his meaning; but all his opportunities pro­ved fruitlesse to his desires, which were still nipt in the bud, (be­fore he could give them breath) by the chast wind of her words, and Majesty of her Countenance: Which was such, as would have still kept him in the same state of innocence, if she had not (as unhappily, as innocently) let fall a word by chance, which (like a spark of fire by the often clashings of discourse, like the striking together of Flint and Steele) lighting upon the black tinder of his halfe-burnt Soul, (once extinguished, and suppressed already by her chast hand over him) so spread fire (by his additionall breath) that he thought he might (in a very short time) both touch his match, and light a candle to his hearts desires. And thus it was:

Honoria was much addicted to good Housewifery, especially in preserving Fruits, and Distillations; well governing her Houshold, receiving Accompts, &c. Maximanus, as he was very diligent to find out wayes wherein (he thought) he might please her, and best suite with his occasions, and administer discourse proportionable to his designe. One time amongst the rest, he presents unto her, a rare and exquisite Limner; making it his request, That the Prince's Gallery might be graced with her Picture, which was wanting: Which if it were truly drawne to the life, would put down all the pictures there. She (as little regarding the motion, as affected with the vanity) was, not­withstanding (by much opportunity) drawne to give her consent (with this proviso) that she may have the liberty to chuse her owne fancy in it. Maximanus thought, Reason good; and duty, binding. Whereupon she causeth this rare Artist to draw her Picture holding Cupid between her Legs, his Bow under her Foot, his Quiver upon the ground, with the Arrowes broken, and plucking the feathers out of his Wings, (which lay scattered about the Roome) with this Motto, viz. But a Goose to a good Huswife. And when it was per­fected, she presented it to Maximanus with these words: Now Maxi­manus I am at your service. Meaning no otherwise, but that (upon those termes) she had gratifi'd his desires. He (not reading the Motto) understood not the conceit. She (not doubting but that he had) ex­plain'd [Page 20] it no farther. Maximanus (imagining that by Cupid which she held betweene her legs) was Hieroglyphict the love that was be­tweene her and her husband, whose bow she trod under her foot, and whose feathers she threw away, as slighting his departure) thought ve­rily, that she had done this, to let him see, that now she had (wholly) cast her selfe upon his love and affections. Whereupon he said but little, because the Limner was present, as if he had been somewhat sorry that she had shewed her selfe so comming before a man, that could not but take some notice of her too much forwardnesse. How­soever he was all on fire, which being kept in, burnt the hotter: She ignorant of any, addes more fuell by her ensuing discourse: saying unto him, Come Maximanus, you and I will goe and hang it up in my owne Chamber, bidding him reward the Picture-drawer, and dismisse him, which he did accordingly: He carrying the Picture in his hand into her Chamber, and finding no body there, instead of setting it up, he sets it down. And thus the Goat courted the Lamb, and the Night­raven the Dove.

Madam,

That my love was unexpressable, it might appear by my not speaking: but it seemes my actions spake in a language that your quick apprehension understood: But I could wish you had said nothing, and then you had performed the greatest master-piece of wit that ere was wrought by inge­nuity, and had made a third hand, Limne the Idea of your minde, who never knew your meaning: whereas now I am afraid—

And as he was going on with his speech, she gave him such a look, that stopt his speech, with swallowing downe his Spittle. Ask­ing him, What he meant by that strange language, and insolent kind of behaviour? Maximanus recollecting his spirits, asked Honoria what she meant by that strange Picture, and familiar way of telling him that she was now at his service? Adding, moreover, the dismisment of the Artist, and inviting him to her Chamber, able to give a duller ap­prehension, then his own, the like encouragement: Withall, acquain­ting her with his conception of the Mystery. She him, with the true meaning and purport of her Fancy: letting him understand, that if her familiarity was the occasion of such constructions, he should have lesse reason (hereafter) to mistake.

Maximanus reply'd (to so unexpected a cooling Card) Madame, I pray be not offended, you cannot hate me for loving you: nor blame that love that is attracted by such Magnetick vertue: 'Tis your owne fault to be so Beautifull, and none of mine, to be passive in my obedi­ence to that power. Truly Madam, I must needs confesse, I doe love you with all my heart, and have smother'd my affection a long time: But now I must tell you, that you murder me, if you deny.

Sir, Sir, said the Princesse, love is your scene, but when the scene is opened, foul lust appeares, which makes you unworthy of your Princes Favour, or my Company: With what countenance can you look him in the Face, that can be so disloyall to him, or me, of whom you have en­tertain'd [Page 21] so vile conceptions? For the Love-sake that my Husband beares unto you (in hopes of your amendment) I will not blab your Base­nesse or Disloyalty: But I protest, if ever you open your mouth againe in this particular, your Master shall know into how treacherous hands he hath repos'd so great a Trust: And so farewell.

Honoria being gone, Maximanus bites the lip, and swears by all the Gods it shall not serve her turne; if faire meanes will not doe it, foule meanes shall, whom we leave hatching his owne Villanies. To treat of the successes which attended the Prince in his expedition against the Moores.

Lorenzo (Monteroing the top of an Hill with his Army, be­held the Moors drawn up in Battalia ready to receive him) brooks no delayes, but (thinking himself as Superiour, to them in Courage and true Gallantry, as he was inferiour to them in number) uncovers the Mountaine head, advances towards them; and makes up to the black-fac'd Monster through disadvantages, breaks through diffi­culties, and gives them a home Charge, some of the Moores begin to stagger and runne: Whereat the Generall of the Moores was no more discouraged then the Husband-man, when he sees the winde blow the Chaffe away from the purer Corne. Cosdruball, Gene­rall of the Prince his Horse, routes theirs, but performes the execu­tion with too hot a spurre: insomuch that the whole Army of the Princes was almost Routed, and the Prince himselfe in very great danger, had not Bertaldo, the Prince his alter ego, well defended his Prototype. For Lorenzo (with his Brigade) charged into the main Body of the Enemie, hewing down all before him, like a fierce wind, that gets into a thick wood, when as the leafe is in the fall; which knowing not its way out againe, whirles about the trees, shaking down their leaves, clatterring their boughes one against another, so bending their branches to the earth, till their rootes came up, and bodies downe. So this sonne of Mars (environed within a black cloud of Moores) thunders in the midst of them, and (like lightning) so peirced this black cloud, till there fell showers of bloud. Such was the behaviour of the brave Lorenzo.

Bertaldo having intelligence from Hanno, that the Prince was thus engaged, if he were not lost already; and that the left wing (attempting to dis-engage him) were all routed, with his 100. Vo­lunteers which guarded his Person, and thought no otherwise but that he had been the Prince; rides amongst the heartlesse and breath­lesse Souldiers, crying, Victoria, Victoria! Come and let us make an end of the day, all's our owne: they think him to be the Prince, and that he had made his way through, (and so shrewdly disordered them) all follow him, and his directions. He gives Philaret a strict charge that he should not lose the sight of him (if it were possible) but be ready at had (with his spare Horse) if need required; and that he should shew his love unto him in that dayes service, and have it ever after. The poor wretch over-joy'd with the apprehension of such a reward, [Page 22] converts his fear of death into hopes of merit: And having at the beginning of the Battell taken a box of Oyntment from a Captive Tawny-Moore (wherewith the Moores used to make their Faces more black (as more Beautifull) he colours his face as black as jet, imagining (thereby) to performe some notable piece of service that day, in the behalfe of his so much beloved, Bertaldo: who by this time finding the Moores to stand so close drawn up, as no ordinary force, or manner of discipline could break, or enter; drawes up his Men in forme of a wedge, edg'd with his own personall Valour (it being impossible that such a one, being backt by two, those two by three; three by five, bearing the same proportion up to the very Rear, whose greater number still followed the fewer, whilst the bet­ter-mettled fewer still made way for the worser temper'd multitude to follow, (like a well-droven wedg) riving the bonds of nature in sunder) and those hearts of Oak, at once, both to complaine and open, till they saw the Prince (with a few survivers) like Mars him­selfe stand Bulwarckt in the midst of so many slaughter'd Moores: and Re-intrench'd about with his owne Dead. Where the Prince and Bertaldo congratulating one anothers happinesse in both their preser­vations; both parties stood amaz'd to behold two suns in the same Firmament: The Princes men were contented to take Bertaldo as a rescuing Angell in their Soveraignes shape: and Bertaldo his men were glad to see two Princes, who not long ago were afraid they had not one.

These two men in Mars his livery, seeing the Moors endeavouring to Sally on either hand, resolv'd (equally) to divide their Forces, and Charge them severall wayes. Bertaldo (in prosecuting his de­signe) had his Horse slaine under him upon the first Charge, which had no sooner brought him to the ground, but up comes Philoret with his spare Horse in his hand, ready to re-estate him in his former posture: He perceiving Philoret black as the night, thought some Moore had kill'd his pretty Page, and seiz'd his horse, and clad him in his Pages habit: whereupon Bertaldo struck at Philoret, who call'd upon Bertaldo to stay his hand; but the confused noise being so great that he could not hear him, Bertaldo gave him a sleight wound upon his neck, whereat (Philoret letting his horse goe out of his hands) to lay hold on that, Bertaldo left prosecuting Philorets re­venge, by sparing the person whom he persecuted with so blind a zeal: crying out, Black Devill, how couldst thou find in thy heart to destroy so sweet a Creature? Philoret was so well pleased with the kindnesse of his language, and so little troubled with the smart of his wounds, that he onely thirsted for another opportunity to doe Ber­taldo the like service at the same rate, which was presently offer'd him: For

Bertaldo was no sooner mounted, but presently he Charges in a­mongst the thickest of his Enemies, as if some wild Bull had runne madding through some Market-place, treading down all the people [Page 23] as he ranne along, till stopt by Butchers, that staid his course by knocking of him downe: so fell Bertaldo. Up comes Philoret, and dismounting his horse, strides over him, and with his sword in his hand menaces the approaching Enemy. The Moores seeing him Black, took him to be one of their own party; and by his rich ap­parrell to be of some extraordinary quality; wherefore they durst not presse upon Bertaldo any further violence, whom Authority had protected: untill the Prince (having quite routed his Adversaries, and hearing Bertaldo to be so engaged) comes in (like a raging Sea back'd by the winds, that had made some new breach into the Land) which when the fainting spirits of Bertaldoes men once perceived, they resolv'd (like a dying taper) either to contract all their strength, to make one great blaze before they went out, or else (for shame) to doe their own work themselves, before Lorenzo should come to their assistance: which they performed so couragiously, that they made the enemy give the ground that was covered with Bertaldoes woun­ded body; who being set upon his feet, on the one side by his friends, on the other by his supposed enemy, to whom he thought him­selfe so much beholding, that he pray'd his Souldiers to use that pretty little Blackamore well: wondring how he neglected his owne liberty, and hazarded his life to preserve his person.

Philoret was forthwith carrried out of the Battell, which was soon after ended, and the Moors all totally routed, by the comming back of Cosdruballs horse, who received orders to follow the execution. They all drew off the field: and when the Prince was well got to his Quarters, and Bertaldoes wounds had been well dress'd, he requited the Princes kinde Visite, with the pleasing Story of the great kind­nesse that the supposed Moore had shewed him in his extremity. They both resolved to send for him; and being sent for, they were both inquisitive after the cause of his so great humanity.

Bertaldo (telling Philoret, that to his knowledge he had saved his life, hazarded his owne, and lost his liberty) desiring to know of Phi­loret, what moved him to all that kindnesse? Philoret reply'd, nothing but that I had a mind to save so brave a Man. But oh (said Bertaldo) (fetch­ing a deep sigh) what hast thou done with that sweet-fac'd Youth thou stripp'st of those cloathes? Philoret answered, I will bring him to you ere it be long. Why? did you love him? I did (gentle Moor) said Ber­taldo. What shall I give thee for reward of so great a Curtesie? The Prince seconding Bertaldo, bid him aske what he pleas'd, and he should have it. Then said Philoret, I ask at both your hands no other favour but that you would give me for all my service, one Bason of faire Water.

They admiring first, and afterwards commanding it to be sent for; which being brought, they both delivered it to Philoret (still wondring what he meant to doe therewith) who receiving it step'd aside, and (as if night had been washed away by the morning dew) breaks upon them with such red and white, as Aurora paints her [Page 24] Cheekes withall, after her climing up the Eastern hills. Of which, when they had throughly enform'd themselves, they both strove who should imbrace him first; the Prince first caught him in his Armes, he catches at Bertaldo, who kiss'd his Cheekes: And Ber­taldoes armes being about his neck, he weepes upon his hands; his merits sowing the seedes of love in the field of Mars, his teares reaped no further benefit then of being rewarded in the Act, which was as high as his poor heart durst goe. The Prince perceiving him to weep so fast, lets him goe, fearing that he had hurt him, by em­bracing him with too hard a kindnesse. Bertaldo enjoying a quiet possession of his so much beloved, takes him in his Armes, and askes him what he ayl'd; he hanging down his armes by his sides, as un­worthy of such an armfull, puts by the true cause by this excuse. I weep to think what danger you were in. I (said Bertaldo) rejoyce that thou wert my preserver; assuring him that he had perserved him for himselfe, as the best Master that ever any Boy was glad of. And that he would preferre him to his own hearts desire: bidding him ask what he would have for the present, and he would grant him his request. Then I desire (said Philoret) in the first place, That you would never put me from you. Secondly, that I may ever sleep at your foot.

The Prince bursting forth into admiration, cryes out, What strange affection is this of a youth towards his Master!

Philoret fearing that he had gone too farre, and that nothing could sooner deprive him of that competent felicity (which he had propo­sed unto himselfe) then that it should be known what he was, breaks off all further expostulations with this assurance: That as no promise could be greater then that, so no performance could answer his desires with more delight.

Bertaldo reply'd, Thou art as much Master of both, as I am of thee. So Philoret was satisfi'd, Bertaldo pleas'd, the Prince asto­nished.

CHAP. IV.

LIke some Braggadosio insolent Ruffian, who intended an Affront to a higher Spirit then his own, and that before his Doore: And finding himselfe worsted by the Defendant, quits his ground, runs his way; the other after him, chastising that bold attempt (with reduplicated verberations) on the person of the Offender, up to the same doores where his castigation had beginning (through a whole street of amaz'd Spectators) so Basted was this Moore: so Vali­ant was this Prince, both in his Owne, and Enemies Country: where we leave him, and returne to our Affaires in Car­thage.

The particulars whereof being brought to Carthage, Maximanus entertaines high resolutions of perpetrating his black designe, which thus he prosecutes.

Having from that time forward sought his opportunity of singling her out, at the last he found it. At the time when Honoria (all alone) went up to the Garret to remove and order her Quinsies, Pomegranats, and other Fruits wherein she delighted; Maxima­nus comes in with a Dagger in his hand hafted towards her, and pointed to his owne Breast, speaking to her in this lan­guage:

Madam,

I have layne a long time scorching in the unquenchable flames of my desires, fir'd by your Beatuty; and you have cast me no cooling water of Consent, but oyle of Denyall to increase, but not to mitigate my tor­ment: Wherefore I am constrain'd to be thus charitable to my selfe. Either be just in your retribution of affording love, for love, though with an unwilling mercy; or else be mercifull with this Instrument, in ridding me out of paine, by a most pleasing Cruelty.

Honoria scarce having patience to hear so much, and having none left to hear any more, She calls him Lustfull Goat, perfidious Man, tempting Devill, unworthy of his Masters favour, and the Trust he had reposed in him. Bids him begon, and coole his inordinate desires with his own sighes; and quench that fire from Hell with tears of his Repen­tance: for that was all the reliefe he must expect from her. At which words he turnes the point of his Dagger to her Breast, and tells her, that if she would not, otherwise, that should make her; and that which [Page 26] she was forc'd unto was not her own act. And therefore wish'd her not to make any resistance, or call for the least help, as she loved her owne Lord and Life, and the wellfare of his Dominions, with often inculca­tions, that if she compell'd him to stop her out cryes with that Dagger struck through the lunges that sends them up, he would (afterwards) prove as great a Traytour to her Lord, as she had compell'd him to be a Murderer of her, and have his desires at last, though it were but between hot and cold, life and death. Honoria laught in his face, and bade him look who stood behind him. And whilst he was turning about, (to see what ambush she had laid) she whips by him; and running by the doore, clapp'd it too, which he open'd with such speed, as men often finde who are most in haste: But had doubtlesse overtaken her running downe the staires that led into the Gallery, or in the long Gallery, before she could have reacht any Company, if her owne Chast speed, and the winde together, had not blow'd off her Veile so directly towards his feet, that he was so entangled therewith, that downe he falls along, upon the ground, whereby she got safely to her Guard of Ladies, but could not speak to them, she was so out of breath: and when she had breath'd sufficiently, she could not speak for laughing.

In which Interim, Maximanus enters the Presence, who not a lit­tle glad to see her so pleasant, and exceeding glad that she had not said any thing at all of him to the Ladies, with greatest reverence he requested her that he might speak but one word in private with her, at the window: she conjecturing his meaning (commanding the Ladies not to stir out of the roome) withdrawes her selfe, where he begs, and prayes her, for goodnesse sake, though he had deserved the greatest evill, that she would not speake a word of what had passed betweene them: Pro­testing before all things sacred, that he intended her no harme, but onely to put her to the utmost tryall; which had not the suddennesse of her owne wit taught her such an escape, she should not have been unsatisfied in that particular; but now the truth of his intentions was wholly at the mercy of her Belief: Promising her faithfully, that if she would forget, and forgive this misdemeanour, he would never open his mouth unto her, in that behalfe, nor ever harbour any such thoughts within his breast. For if she did not, that would be the way to have them both undone; and if she did, nothing should preserve her honour more then that Engage­ment.

Honoria (with a severe Countenance) reply'd,

Maximanus, not forfear of any thing wherewith you can threaten me, but for the loves sake my Husband beares unto you, I will pardon you, and never speak of this offence: First provided, that you be as good as your word, in banishing all thoughts of falling into a relapse. Secondly, That I may be in a condition never to trust you any more. Wherefore you must give me leave to dismisse your attendance upon my Person, till your Master returnes, and your suit is granted. I give you leave to make what excuse you can for keeping such a distance.

[Page 27] Maximanus seem'd to be contented, and complaines to her, how that he had broken both his elboes with his fall.

Honoria burst out into such a laughter, as quitted claime to the suspition which the Ladies had already entertained, of what (indeed) was reall. Yet notwithstanding, assoone as Maximanus had taken his leave of the Princesse, Amarissa takes the boldnesse to be inquisitive after the cause of her being so much out of breath, and his being out of Countenance at his first entrance into the Roome. Honoria (to make good her promise) told Amarissa, that they had been both frighted by a strange kind of noise as they pass'd by the Hobgoblin Cham­ber, at which they both fell a running; and he making more haste then good speed, came over and over: wherefore he followed her, requesting her for Gods sake, that she would not tell any body of it. And that he had so bruised his Elbowes, that he knew not what to doe.

O Honoria, thou hadst escaped a great deal of misery if thou hadst granted fewer favours, or been lesse punctuall in thy performances. But many a good man (like the tree that affords wedges out of its selfe, whereby its main body is cleft in sunder) suffers, by conferring too ma­ny acts of grace and favour, upon objects that are incompatible with a just reception.

Maximanus now having his quietus est, disquiets himselfe in find­ing out wayes to his revenge; and in requiting so much goodnesse with the greatest mischief. For he gives it out amongst his creatures, that he verily believ'd, that his Mistresse was naught: And that he suspected her to play fast and loose with no baser a companion then her Gardner, (a poore harmlesse wretch, whom she often took along with her into the fields to chuse and gather Simples, (being an excellent Herbalist) as well for the use of her Still, as setting what were likeliest to grow in her owne Garden, (a delight, becomming the state of In­nocence) and that therefore she had dismiss'd him of his Attendance upon her Person, that she might the more freely enjoy her oportunities; but he would observe her haunts, and she should beare his horse dash ere it were long, though she betook her selfe to never so many by wayes. Some out of envie, others out of complacence to so great a Favourite, were willing enough to beleeve it, though none could, untill such time as a foolish mistake (sufficient enough to create a Beliefe, where the mind is willing to receive it) had in some measure conform'd them to his vaine imagination, and thus it was.

Hortensius (the Gardner) waiting upon his Mistresse to a flowrie banke, whose bed (at its severall seasons) as well made soft with the often risings of the water, as comforted with the Warming-pan of the Sunne, having a Diana's Grove (like a drawne Curtaine) betweene it and the North-East-wind, standing so commodiously for the bene­fit of the Southerne Clime) invited them to search into Natures bo­some, where she was likelyest to hide her greatest rarities.

To this very place Maximanus dogs Honoria, and sets Spies over her actions, and there leaves them, (as well hoping that their willing­nesse [Page 28] to be deluded, might lay hold on some occasion to let in error through the back-doore of some mistake, whereby some grounds of witnessing against her may be had, as also that if any such thing were, they might adde a little to it, make more) and according to his ex­pectation, there hapned this unlucky accident (food to his hunger, and a full draught to his revenge) Hortensius having fill'd his Basket, and she her Apron with the choicest delicates; they were both compa­ring the fruits of their own industry, and natures bounty, together; some mistake of the right name of an Herb (on his part) made the Princesse laugh, whereat the supervisors thought them somewhat pleasant: Another mistake there was of the Princesse, which caused her to clap her hand upon her breast, as blaming her forgetfulnesse, which caused those eves-droppers (byass'd with prejudicate opinion) to cry out, Oh what a passionate expression was there! How she was fain to pump it from the very bottom of her heart! Which mistake of theirs, the Gardner himself somewhat improved, when he had made her such an obeysance, whilst he was craving her pardon for his contradiction; whilst suspicion was thus well onward on its way, a small matter helps it forward to its journies end. For Honoria espying an Earwig ready to creep into Hertensius ear, endeavouring to strike it off with her hand, she strikes it into his Neck; and percei­ving it to be there, thrust her fingers into his Coller to take it thence; she laughing all the while at his not knowing what was the matter, and wondring why she gave him such a whirret under the Ear: Of which, assoone as he had beene informed, in humble manner he makes her a low obeysance, and thankes her for being partiall in his behalfe, in taking one wormes part rather then another.

So, so, (said the Ambushcado) here's fine doings indeed, we have even seene enough, it is no marvail that honest Maximanus must not come neer your Person, lest he pry into your actions.

Some rashly wondred, saying, Who would have thought she had been such a one! Others set their teeth on edge against the Gardiner, saying, He deserv'd to be hang'd, and cut as small as herbs to the pot. All inform'd Maximanus, that they had seen them as good as naught together.

He eager to know what, and how, and wherein, and what they had seene, and how it was: They told him, that they had seen them court one another extreamly: the words (indeed) they could not hear well, but their actions were too too palpable. Why, what did she do (said Maxima­nus?) They made answer, that she stroakt him under the Chin, clapt his Cheeks, thrust her fingers into his Bosome, smil'd him in the Face. And how did the Gardiner behave himself (said Maximanus?) He (said they) dopt, and cring'd, and made legges all the while, whilst she answered his reverence, with her hand patting her Breast.

Which (being so confidently related by so many witnesses) had been enough to have made him believe (as it did too many others) that it had been so indeed, but that his owne temptations were suf­ficient [Page 29] tryals of their vertue, or that she had preferr'd the Gardner be­fore him, but that he did verily beleeve they invented those lies to curry favour with his greatnesse. Thus foolish people standing a great way off, and seeing men and women dance, (hearing not the musick) sup­pose them to be all mad.

Strange Reports (like wild-fire) ran up and downe the Court con­cerning Hortensius and Honoria; some of them got Amarissa by the eares, and held her in astonishment. She, with a friendly Apologie (full of respect) acquaints Honoria with the businesse, who knew no more what to say to it, then a weaned child knew how to draw up an Answer to a Charge of the Highest Treason. But having recollected her selfe a little, she presently cryes out against Maximanus, saying, Upon her life this was his doings, and forthwith up and told Amarissa all that had happened betweene Maximanus and her selfe. Amarissa being fully satisfied from what Quarter this wind blew, said unto Ho­noria, Oh Honoria, hadst thou been so happy as to have questioned him for his villanie, before thou hadst been questioned by him, thou hadst crusht the Cockatrice in the egge: But now, when Falshood hath once made Truth a Defendant, it hath taken away her Testimonie.

Amarissa having further made knowne the particulars to Honoria, as they were related; Honoria then unfolded all the Riddles, and clea­red the Mistakes. Amarissa over-joy'd that she was so fully instructed to defend Honoria's honour, satisfie the abused multitude, and questi­on the Tyrant; She begins to stickle in her behalfe, and undeceive the mis-informed, and talkt of calling Maximanus to account for his villanie.

Now began the feud, Reports joyne issue, Publications are brought forth, and a day of Hearing boldly is required of the Judges. Maximanus fearing that his Evidence would not hold water, with­out farther proofe, stops the proceedings, till he had got Positives to his Circumstances, which thus he labours to obtaine: He corrupts Bo­nella, the Prince's Waiting-woman, with store of Gold, by the means of his chief Secretary, who also was to pretend himselfe a Suiter to Bonella; she both credulous, and ambitious, swallowes downe the Treason, which thus she had agreed to execute: Bonella having told Maximanus (upon his enquirie) that ever since he was dismiss'd his attendance, that Honoria and Amarissa lay together in the same bed, and that every night before they took their rest, they drank a glasse or two of Cinamond-water: Whereupon she had direction given her, that when they call'd to her next for any of that water, she should drop three drops of that receipt (which she had then given her) into one of their Glasses, acquainting her that every drop would cast them into so many houres dead sleep: Which when she had done, she should informe Maximanus of it, and then leave him to act the rest.

Bonella puts this horrid Treason in execution, the very next night following, and brings word to Maximanus what she had done; who asking her how long it had been since she had done the feat, and how it [Page 30] wraught with them? she answered, Presently, and that they were both asleep before they could get into their bed, so that she was faine to help Amarissa to her resting place by main strength, and that halfe an hour had not scarce spent its time since she had perform'd the work. He dismist her for the present, sent for Hortensius to come before him, as to examine him upon the premisses; he answers according to his in­nocence, and was discharg'd with courteous language.

The Secretary (having his lesson given him) followes the Gardner out of the chamber, commending him for his honest dealing, and re­joycing that he had come off so well, invites him into his chamber, be­stowes wine upon him, he (little thinking that he shooke a Devill by the hand, whilst he thought he had caught an Angell by the foot) was over-joy'd to see himselfe so much made of. At last he had two drops of the same ingredient, distill'd into one of his cups; which having the same operation, he was privately carryed and laid in the same bed, betweene Honoria and Amarissa: and there they were all three left. Forthwith pretended intelligence was brought, that Hor­tensius was spy'd privily stealing into Honoria her chamber, witnesses were call'd, they went directly to Bonella's bed-side, and demanded the key of her: She with a counterfeited trembling produces what she had but lately given her: They open the doore, enter the chamber, approach the bed, find them all three fast asleep, with Honoria's arme about the Gardners neck. Maximanus cryes, It's pittie to wake them, how sweetly they lie! I would my Father had made me a Gardner; what a fine time be has of it! desiring the company to wait their pleasures a while, knowing the time to be at hand, when that somniferous drug (that growes not any where but under the shade of death) would wake them with a vengeance. They all withdraw behind the Foot­curtaine of the bed. At last Honoria and Amarissa both awake much at a time, yet neither perceived that they had any body between them. Honoria taking Hortensius to be Amarissa, and she the same to be Honoria, both began to wonder at the light which was in the roome, both their heads began to ake, both complained to one ano­ther: Hortensius presently awakes, and finding himselfe between two, asks Where am I? the deceived Innocents shreeking out, cry, What have we here? In which interim, Maximanus and the rest discover themselves, and cry all with open mouth, Out you foule Adulteresse, to Honoria; Out you Bawd, to Amarissa; Out you villaine, to Hortensius. Hortensius hee skips out of the bed, distracted, and amaz'd; Maximanus tells him, that there are his cloathes, and that hee knew well enough where he laid them. Hortensius begins to speak, as well as Amazement would give him leave. Maximanus stops his mouth, with bidding them Carry him away, and telling him, that he should speak upon the Rack to morrow. Honoria begins to speak, like the gentle wind, when it passes over the heads of sweetest flo­wers, and so delightfully carryes their fragrance into our nostrils; so pleasingly would she have breath'd forth her innocence into their [Page 31] eares, but could not be heard. Amarissa began to speak, like the blustring Boreas, but was out-nois'd by thunder and exclamations. Both were commanded to rise out of their beds, and were committed to safe Custody for that night.

CHAP. V.

THe next morning they were both committed so close Prisoners (to severall Wards) in a place of the Tower, not farre distant from the Pallace, and appointed for Malefactors of the highest Rank and Quality. So ac­commodated, that they could neither ease their minds by Complaints, (not so much as to one another) nor expresse their injuries by Arguments.

All mens hearts were set against them, their eares stopt, their mouthes open: yet notwithstanding, the Heavens lowr'd, the Place mourn'd, the Stones wept, the Hollow windes murmur'd, and their Ecchoes answered to every Groan. And lest sorrow should be de­fective in any part, to compleat all woe, their eares were fill'd with the loud cryes and roarings of poor Hortensius upon the Rack just under them: who was the more miserably us'd, (they hoping to ex­tort from him a Confession to their liking out the violence of his tor­ment) each stretch they gave him upon the Rack, made every veine of both their hearts to ake; and their heart-strings were ready to break, as his Limbes grew more and more out of jaynt. So great a sympathy was there in the same Innocence: As he Roar'd, they Shreekt; as he left off, they were still: nothing could be got from him, but that he was a Martyn to a chast Bed. Still, when they had let him downe, and threatned him with a second and third Torture, he said, that he could wish that he had patience enough to endure their Tyranny, that he might not be such a disturbance to the good Ladyes, but he had honesty sufficient not to injure their Reputations, through the violence of any sufferings.

And in his greatest and last temptation, in the midst of cruelty, he cry'd aloud, O Honoria pray for me! pray for me good Honoria! Amarissa help her! help her Amarissa!

Honoria falls upon her knees, and prayes, rises up againe, and stamps with her foot upon the ground, runnes to the doore, and knocks as hard as both her soft hands would give her leave, calls out to some good body to speak to them to spare him, and inflict what punish­ment they would on her. Whereupon they all cry'd shame upon the [Page 32] the tormentors, for which shame sake (at last) they let goe the Rack.

Hortensius had no sooner his joynts set, and the company dis­miss'd, but Maximanus enters the Prison all alone, mad with rage: And seeing that no paine could squeeze out an acknowledgement, he was resolv'd to trye what the terrour of Death could doe; and therefore he thus spake unto Hortensius, (holding his dagger to his breast.)

Villaine, I am resolv'd to have my will of thee, I know thy innocence as well as thy selfe; if thou preferrest the stab that this will give thee, before a prick of Conscience, I come to give it thee.

Hortensius bids him strike, againe cryes strike: strike, the third time.

Maximanus thinking with himselfe, that death would not doe so well for his purpose as acknowledgment, pawses a while; at last speakes thus unto him:

Come sirrah, thou shalt be rul'd by me, I will raise thee forth of the Mire, and will seat thee in a place of Honour: I will recompence thy sufferings with the choicest favours that my friendship can bestow upon thee: I will supply thy wants with store of Riches, I find that thou hast in thee the principles of a true friend: Bend but thy resolutions to my interest, and be my selfe. Away with this thing call'd Honesty, so like a feather in a fooles cap: Let your Conscience alone, and it will never trouble you; it will never speak if you never examine it; and is nothing else but the Idea of a fantastick braine: Fear first begot in men the awe­fulnesse of a Deity: Rouze up good fellow, what sayst thou? Shall thy horse stand in my stable, or shall it not?

Hortensius (after some pause) replyes,

It seemes that I have read better Divinity upon the leaves of Flowers, and Herbs, then you have read in all the folio's of your Books. No Sir, you have a Conscience that would speak to you without examining, but you will not hear it; and trouble you too, but that you hide your selfe out of those wayes it would direct you, and secure it as you have done Hono­ria and Amarissa. But considering with himselfe, how that he might (happily) do them more service by preserving his owne life (though with a supposed villany) rather then (by death) to destroy the chiefest witnesse of their innocence, by reall Martyrdome. He was sorry that he had gone so farre, and thus he endeavours to re-collect himself.) And besides, if I should hearken to your allurements, you your selfe would think me to be the basest fellow in the world, and would use me accordingly, when you had once wrought your ends upon me. No (said Maximanus) it is the property of those to love the Treason, and hate Traytor, who are otherwise themselves. Vipers nere sting Vipers, though they gnaw their way through the very bowels of their Dam: the innocent Dove can have rough feet; and of Cruelty it selfe it can be said no more, then that it hath rough hands. Give me the wisedome of the Serpent, who stops his eares at the voices of those Charmers, and [Page 33] carry ammunition poison with their stings, rather then the nature of those silly Doves, and Pigeons, that can fight, and have no gaul. It is as naturall for Thunder-bolts to strike, as 'tis for Mothers to snatch their Children from harmes-way. It is onely the contrariety of thy disposition unto mine, that makes thee obstinate, a foolish fancy, a femall pitty that makes thee thus: It is not my fault, nor thine, to doe such things as these, 'tis theirs, to over-load us with what we cannot bear, and then to stand in our way.

What smoother then the face of water? what creature runnes a gentler course then the smiling River, as it glides a long with so many pretty dimples in the cheekes of her fair purling streames? But if a tempest rise, what more out-ragious then the Sea? If stormes give orders to Crekes and Rivolets, Brookes and Torrents to charge both flankes of this faire troop of waters, in their march, it swels, and makes the greater haste to dis-engage it self, by cutting through the Van, that it may bear all down before it; so that these out-rages are not in our nature but by acci­dent.

Hortensius, be at once both Wise and Happy.

What would you have me doe? (reply'd Hortensius.)

I would have thee say (said Maximanus) that thou wert Courted by those Ladyes to pleasures, whose temptations were above resistance. None can blame thee, but them; Thou shalt erect a happinesse upon their Ruines, that shall not lie within the power of fate to shatter. If I stand, thou stand'st; If I fall, thou fall'st; throwne downe with a winde that shall either shake the Earth, or blow the Massy Crown from off the Princes Head, with no more then difficulty if a Hat and Feather should stand in competition with the wind. Then said Hortensius, Sir, I am at your service and disposall, direct me wayes how I may be usefull to you.

Thus they (seemingly) agreed: Reports ranne over all the Pallace, that Hortensius had confess'd his fault, and accus'd the Ladyes.

The Ladyes hearing of it, were struck with horrour and amaze­ment, look'd up to Heaven, wondring that the Gods took no more care of humane Affaires. Sometimes they could finde in their hearts to turn Atheists, but those thoughts were laid aside, with confidence that they should be vindicated in their Reputations, though not be­fore, yet after death.

Hortensius was highly rewarded, and promoted to high dignities, whose suddain rising made the wiser sort, soon believe, that the Gard­ner had not rais'd that Mount without the Devils help: All things were carryed clear against the Ladyes, and Maximanus supposed by some to have perform'd the part of a vigilant Scout-master; by others, of a perfidious Bloud-hound.

Bonella must now be thought upon, (as most convenient) that she should not live; whereupon the Secretrary pretends to run away with her, (having both feather'd their nests sufficiently) to which she was willingly enough enclin'd, & so by the way to murder her, which was [Page 34] thus far put in execution: He attends her towards the Wood, which when he had far enough entred, tells her what she must trust to, and what his Commands were. Whereat Bonella wept, and askt him, Will you doe it? Is your love come to this, and your profession murder? I must confesse I have deserv'd it, for shaking hands with such a Tyrant in so great Villanies: But know, that his 20000 Crownes were none of the allurements that made me to do this foul injury to such innocent Crea­tures: but it was your love, and to obtain that which made me thus for­getfull of all goodnesse, and am I thus rewarded? Know you not that the Tyrant will not suffer one to live, who is acquainted with his Villany? And doe you think you shall escape at last? No, you may have the ho­nour to goe last to pot. But assure your selfe, he will not leave a man to live within the compasse of betraying him with recantation. No! Doe not doe this, though it be justice in regard of my selfe, yet it is iniquity in respect of you. I have not deserv'd it at your hands, leave off this wicked purpose, and goe along with me, and thou shalt never want. I have sent 600 Crownes beyond the Seas, I have a thousand hid under the ground, that never shall rise out of the Earth if I fall to dust: Thou hast wealth enough of thy own, both together will make up a conve­nient Fortune to maintain us. Or if thou didst but make me believe thou lov'dst me, to worke this hellish Plot by my meanes; yet let me but live, and I will bequeath that to thee, as a recompence of thy mercy towards me: otherwise, whether I shall find a Grave, or not, that shall lie buried where it is.

The Secretary being somewhat touch'd with these words, (but especially being loath to lose so much money which might be had by Craft) tells her, That the truth was, he never intended to Mar­ry her, but for her last request he would grant it, upon condition that she would acquaint him where her treasure lay: Which, upon many Oathes and Execrations that he would not murder her, but leave her there in the Wood to shift for her selfe, she told him where it was, which, when she had done (for two reasons sake: the first, That he might be as good as his word. The second, That if she did not tell him rightly, he might know where to find her.) He causes her to climb up an old hollow Tree, and lets her down into the bottome of it, telling her, That there she must remain untill such time as he had found the truth of her relation. And there he left her.

Back goes the Secretary, and gives his Master an accompt of the businesse, as perform'd according to his injunction, who believes it; and forthwith leads him over a Trap-door, made for some such pur­poses, who not acquainted with the mode of ordering his steps, falls down a Precipice, and there was hideously slain, falling down upon sharp stakes, stuck in the bottome ready to receive him. Whereupon Maximanus gives it out, that his Servant, and Bonella were both fled, being accessaries to the foul Adultery, and that upon the Confession of Hortensius, who takes all upon him, now that he may have all to throw hereafter.

[Page 35] By this time all things were fitted to the Tyrants hand, and obsta­cles removed out of his way, he thinks it fit to acquaint Lorenzo with the whole substance of the story and sends a subtile Messen­ger, whom he trusts with the mannagery of this Affaire: And thus he directs his Letter to the Prince.

CHAP. VI.

WHen as the Carthaginian Drums had beat up a March to the tyr'd Souldiers feet over the Fessian Mountains (and the shrill Trumpet, with his Breath, call'd on the Cou­ragious Troops to follow) faster then the wearied Pal­feries could answer to the hot spur of their fierce riders. Lorenzo might behold (in a fair pleasant Valley) a cōmodious place for quartering his Army, (having a pretty Village close adjoyning, which, together with the indisposednesse of his Army to march any further, invited his Highnesse resolution there to rest his Stan­dard) inquiring what great Personage did own so great happinesse to be so well seated. It was answered, that the Lady Paramount, to all that fruitfull Plaine, and stately Building, her name was Cosbia, who espying an Army to descend the Hils, with Colours flying, as if some curious Garden had descended the craggy Mountaines, to have given Battell to her set of Tulips. She sent to know the cause, and dive into the meaning of such an approach.

The Messenger having delivered his Errand, was sent back with this accompt: That it was Lorenzo, Prince of Carthage, who in casti­gation of the bold Moores attempt upon his Confines, followed the Pur­suite, and was constrain'd (as his March fell out) to trouble her, and the rest of her good Neighbours with one nights lodging; assuring her, that the demeanour both of him, and his, should be rather like Guests, then Souldiers. The old Lady thought it policy to make a vertue of necessity, and entertain him worthily.

Lorenzo was no sooner entred the Pallace, but he call'd to mind Aminda, her engagement; for he was no sooner invited to rest himself upon the Couch, by the side of the old Beldam Cosbia, but he began to ask her how many Sonnes she had? who answered, Two. The Prince desired to be acquainted with their names: she answered, If he pleas'd, he might Honour them, and her, with taking notice of their Persons, for they were both either neer, or within the House. Lorenzo demanded the cognizance of their Names: She told him, That the one was known by the name of Jacomius, the other of Berontus. The Prince demanded which was the Eldest of the two? The Lady (though somewhat stagger'd) answer Jacomius; whereat the Prince seemed satisfied, (for the present) but after a while, the two Brothers entring [Page 37] the Roome, they had no sooner made their obeysance to the Prince, but the Prince calls to minde the relation that Aminda's Ghost had given him; whereupon he salutes Berontus with a more Princely fa­vour then his younger Brother, whereat the old Lady (conscious of her owne injustice) was struck with fear (the inseparable shadow of a guilty Conscience) that she had been betray'd; and that the Army had advanced thither to no other purpose but to vindicate the wrong which her partiallity had cast upon her lawfull Heir, and Eldest sonne: yet notwithstanding, she plucks up her spirits, and tells Lorenzo, that she supposed he was mistaken, for that was her Eldest sonne, pointing at Jacomius: The Prince tells her, that he believ'd that neither he, nor she, were mistaken, though she thought to blind the world with such a falshood, as rendred her unworthy of the Cosbian name. Neither of the two young Princes knew his meaning, Cosbia did; the Prince drew forth his Memorandum, and gave Orders to bring before him such, and such, as were inserted in the Paper. They were all brought before him, examined, confessing (in the midst of the Army, as if they had been surrounded by so many Ghostly Fathers) all that had been done, and how (at the unjust commands of the La­dy Cosbia) they had hitherto kept her unjust precepts, but now they could not withstand the truth any longer; whereat Berontus raises up himself a thought higher then he was before, Jacomius knew not what to think on't: Cosbia (as if some Deity had descended from the Gods, with an Army of Intelligencers) declares the truth: where upon by the Prince his mediation, Cosbia, her willingnesse, and the clear evidence that the witnesses did give) the two Brothers were agreed. Berontus was to be (thence forward) acknowledged right Heire (as Elder Brother) to the Cosbian Family, and Jacomius was by consent (of all parties) to inherit the Dukedom that was descended by their great Uncle Bomon. Supper-season caus'd the Cloath to lay aside all businesse, so that they were at last sensible of no other want but rest.

When time had thus put on her night-cloathes, and the night had brought Lorenzo (thus) to Bed, Aminda, her gratefull Ge­nius, gives Lorenzo thanks and melody, with this Song at his Cham­ber window.

The Prince (no lesse sollac'd with the Musick then the gratitude of Aminda's Ghost) sleepes soundly all night long, untill the Morne threw up the Cypresse over the face of Day; about which time the Army (like a Main body that rests senslesse till it receives Orders from the Soul, how to direct its Feet and Hands) moves upon Lo­renzo his approach, and pursues the Foe. He had not advanced his Cohorts thirty miles, but he was out-fac'd with an Army of sixty thousand Moores drawne in Battalia, whose sole Commander was great Tomolin, Emperour of the Abissines, whose multitudes Lorenzo no more weighes, then man-hood feares to charge through dark­nesse: and therefore thus he animates his Souldiers with an Ora­tion.

Companions in Armes,

YOu see your Enemies before your faces; if ye turne your backes upon them they are Lyons, Tygers, Vultures, Devils; if ye stand stoutly to your Tacklin, they are but Sheep, Hares, Hens, and heartlesse. So that it lyes in your power to chuse whether you will have them Valiant, or otherwise: Your comportment may be such, as may make them all Cesars, Hectors, Alexanders; and it may be such as may render them your Slaves, Vassals, Victims, and Trophees of your Renown. Would you this day live, or die? If you would live, the way to life is not to stand in fear of death: and the way to die, is to meet death by flying from it. Honour is your aime, Victory the end, Riches your reward, and a good Cause the ground you fight upon: Fear will be your overthrow, Co­wardice your shame, and Confusion will be destruction to you all.

Wherefore let me be your Example, follow my Conduct, observe but my Directions, and three houres time (well spent) shall crowne all your desires; thrust palmes into your hands; seat joy on every Countenance; same over your actions; fill your hearts with gladnesse, and your pockets with money: For by all that's good, and all that's true, after this day, your never see Lorenzo more, except a Conquerour.

The Souldiers shouted with acclamations of joy, crying, No man cares to live, if Lorenzo dies; and no man feares to die in preservation of his Life and Honour. Forthwith the Signall was given; the Car­thaginians flie upon the Moors like a strong tyde, whereon Neptune rides foaming in his rage against some black Rock, that receives the violence into its bosome: So Charges Lorenzo through the heart of the main Body, and there with his own hands he slayes the Stan­dard-bearer. Bertaldo and Berontus seize the Standard; but such confusion had their fury, and the dayes over-cast already cast upon [Page 39] them, that the Moors (had by this time) compass'd whom they knew not compassed, and the Carthaginians kept on their way, with such like confidence, as men use to fight withall, when they carry all be­fore them, till such time that they had made their way through the very entrailes of the black-fac'd monster, and found (like physick) that they had not toucht the vitalls, but onely purg'd through the bo­dy of its Patient, leaving it more sound and active then it was before, and themselves divided from themselves.

Whereupon Philoret finding them all at a stand, he betakes him to his old stratagem, blacks his face, and the faces of one hundred more, which were the flower of all the Carthaginian Chivalry, and takes Lorenzo, Bertaldo, Berontus, Cosdruball, and Hanno, with him along, (as if they had been Prisoners) causing the rest of that party to draw farther off, which (with the thick mists assistance) soon was out of sight, and Orders were sent to the rest of the Army, that as soone as ever they should hear a rumbling within the guts of the foul Mon­ster, they should make ruptures into the very bowels of the beast, up to the place where they should find the Prince to be engaged. Accor­dingly they act, Philoret brings in his Captives, tells the Moores, that the Carthaginian Army is quite fled, and gone, and that in the pur­suit he had taken so many men of note, whom he brought for to pre­sent unto the Emperour, that their qualities might be known: where­upon the Moores gave a shout that made the Skies ring: Tomolin ha­ving received intelligence of his supposed happy fortune, sends Commands to bring the Prisoners before him, when the Emperour sate upon his Horse guarded with the Quintessence of all the Affrican Nobility, on whom the supposed Prisoners, and the rest, fell like a fierce Storme; at which same time, the severall parties following their directions, this great Gyant fell to ground, as stab'd to the Heart, and maim'd in all his Limbes; Berontus having slaine the Em­perour with his own hands. Thus Victory put palmes into these wor­thyes hands, but she reserved the Bayes to crown the Virgin Temples.

The day their owne, and now the Country theirs, Lorenzo and Bertaldo both conjoyne to promote the most deserving Philoret to some place of Eminence, and Command, amongst the Souldiers, and they voted Philoret at that time Captaine of the Guard to Prince Lorenzo. Philoret amaz'd (with horrour) at the danger of his own merit, thus modestly refuses his preferment: I hope I have not de­serv'd so ill this day, as that I should now lose my place; I esteeme no Dignity comparable to my relation to Bertaldo; and when I am turn'd out of his service, I shall be uselesse for any action. Wherefore as my am­bition aimes no higher, so my desires beg this onely favour, that I may be still the same. Bertaldo was so in love with Philoret, that he thought himself miserable in the ignorance of wayes to recompence his un­expressable affections towards him, had Philoret but said she had been a Virgin, Amarissa never had been thought on more.

CHAP. VII.

LOrenzo had no sooner conquer'd the Moores but there arose a new Warre, and sharp conflict within his his bosome upon the delivery of the Letters from Maximanus; whose eyes posted so fast over the Apol­logy, to come to the maine subject of the story, that (when those quick intelligencers had inform'd his injured soul) it let in such lightning (through its windowes) as too soon laid hold on that combustible materiall, Jealousie: that the house was all on fire over the head of its inhabitant; then he hastes back againe to the Apollogy, and seekes for water in their iines, but meets with Oyle: Sometimes he railes upon Honoria, calling her Perfidious woman; Amarissa, Hag; Hortensius Villaine: Teares his hair, stamps upon the ground. Then standing in a calmer posture, he sayes (to himself) me thinkes it should not not be, sure it is impossible. Unfolds the Letter againe, flings it open; then askes (himself) if it were not so, why should these, and these, certifie thus and thus: Then falls into ano­ther fit of raving, in which Bertaldo and Berontus find him, and happen to enter the presence as he was venting his poison'd stomack of this foul language: Base Woman, foul Adulteresse; could she find no body with whom she might ingender, but with a Garden-toad. Whereat Bertaldo askes, what meanes the Prince? What hath rais'd so great a tempest in so fair a mind? Your fair Sister Sir, (said Lorenzo) How (said Bertalda) my Sister? Who, Honoria? She's not Honoria (said Lorenzo) I say your sister Sir, who is false, and wicked, vile, and has buried all my Glory in her dishonour.

Then (said Bertaldo) take truce with your Passions but a while, and you shall finde your selfe abus'd, and her innocent. I must desire you to forbear your passion, and that language.

You must desire (said Lorenzo) what? for any thing that I can fear from you? To thy face I speak it, thy Sister is a Whore.

To thy face I speak it (said Bertaldo that Lorenzo Lyes.

They both drew upon one another, and Berontus layed better hold upon Bertaldo, then Philoret could upon Lorenzo, from whom he foone had dis-engaged himselfe; whereby Bertaldo had been much in danger, if Philoret had not with both his armes intangled the feet of him, whose hands he could not hold. So that the Prince thereby [Page 41] fell upon the ground, whereat he calling out, the Guard rushes in, amaz'd to see so much fury, and no enemy neer.

Lorenzo calls upon them to fall upon Bertaldo. Berontus desires them for to hold their hands, assuring them, that the Prince himselfe would give them thanks hereafter, and commend their disobedience.

O (said Philoret, hanging upon one of his armes) what doe you meane to doe? to put out one of your owne eyes? to cut off your owne right hand? let me who have been fortunate to you in some small services, be now happy, in doing you the greatest good, in causing you to be your selfe, which whilst you are, there is no higher Excellence, but now you are not: what have you received, but a Letter? cannot Letters lye? from whom have you received it? from Maximanus, is it not possible he may be false, and Honoria innocent? you abus'd, and Bertaldoes merit requi­ted with such an injury, that repentance can never wash the staine out of your honour? heare more, enquire farther into the businesse, upon my life Honoria is true, true to you, and undeserving the least ill thought.

O (said Lorenzo) were that but so, I would give the world, if it were all mine.

Berontus replyed, It is time enough to be thus perplext, after that you were assured that this were true.

I am assured (said Lorenzo) by all these testimonies, under the knowne hands of my most approved Counsellors.

Sir, (said Bertaldo) returne to your self a little, were this true, none should be her Executioner but my selfe, these hands should teare her limbe from limbe, but I can no more believe it than I can believe impossi­bilities.

Oh Bertaldo (said Lorenzo) could I believe so too, I should thinke my selfe herein more happy than in all my victories.

Sir, (said Bertaldo) it is but conquering your selfe a little, and I will promise you a glorious victory over these Enemies both to your hearts ease, and the tranquility of your minde: be Lorenzo once againe, and Bertaldo 's yours for ever.

Bertaldo, (said the Prince) I pray thee forgive me, and I will hope the best: and turning to the Messenger that brought the Letters, he askt him his opinion, and what his thoughts were of Honoria.

Oh Sir, (replyde the subtil Curre) it is not for me to have any thoughts, or give my opinion in a businesse so concerning; I was onely entrusted with the safe conduct of those Letters, to your royall hand, which when I have performed, I have done my office: but I agree with you in my hopes of better satisfaction.

Sir, (said Philoret) you would do well, as Maximanus hath sent one with Letters to informe, to send another with such Letters as may make Enquiry, into the cause of those emissions.

Bertaldo gave his vote that none was more fit to be employd in that af­fair than Philoret, whom they had found both active, and ingenious upon all occasions.

Lorenzo agrees with him.

[Page 42] Philoret is dispatch'd, who, by the way, picks many causes of suspi­tion, out of the Messenger, entangling him so often in his discourse, especially in asking this Question, If Hortensius hath acted such a villanie, and hath confess'd it, how comes he to be so much in favour with Maximanus? and receiving such an answer from him, vid: that favour must not last, I warrant you shall see him come to a shamefull death ere it be long. Whereat Philoret demanded of him, What necessity there was in colloguing with such a Villaine, after such Witnesses produced, and his owne confession.

Oh (said the Devils Adjutant Generall) Maximanus knowes well enough what he has to doe. Whereupon Philoret soone gathered, that there was more to be found out upon his arrivall at Court, where we leave him on his journey, and bring Lorenzo to his resting place: where sleep had no sooner rockt his senses fast, but Amynda makes him start with her gratitudes of Song and melody, where she thus be­gins:

Lorenzo rises in his shirt, and runs up and downe the roome like a mad man, raving on those false Intelligencers, calling Maximanus, Traytour; Honoria, good; vowing to all the Gods, that he will never believe one word against her; flings into his bed againe, casts his armes abroad, and sighs out this Pallinodium in her justification, Oh Honoria, Honoria! how much have I injur'd thee! how much hast thou been abus'd by Villaines! I will recompence thy sufferings, with a thousand acknowledgments, and expiate my offence with the flower of my indulgence, sifted from the bran of those rude conceptions of thee, which lay too long in common, with my better thoughts: and so he fell into a sweet slumber, bound about the head with these resolves, where we leave him to returne to our affaires in Carthage.

CHAP. VIII.

IT happened that Pippea (too gracious a Child for such a Mother, and too little to be suspected for the mana­ging of such a businesse, as she went through with, (her age not bearing above 12 yeares date) Daughter to Hormunda one of his (both) pitifull and pittilesse crea­tures, and Landresse) stole one day into the Princesses Chamber (all alone) being taught the way by following her Mother thither, (as she went and came, about her linnen employment) and (having heard the divers mutterings, that were in every month throughout the Court) making many pretty dops, and curtchees, as if she would feigne be spoke to; or speake, if she knew how, or where to begin: which the Princesse observing, ask'd her, If her Mother was comming after her? to whom the little Girle, reply'd, No forsooth: then (said Honoria) I warrant thee thou art come to see how I doe: whereat the little Girle fell a weeping very soarly: The Princesse asked her, why she wept? she answered, to thinke how much you are wrong'd Madame. Poore heart, art thou sensible of my Injury (said Honoria) if thou wert capable of understanding, then thou wouldst weep indeed. Madame, (said this pretty heart) I understand a great deale already, and thereby am the better prepared to understand the rest; I pray let me know how it is, I will remember what you say, and if I can, I will help you, for all my Mother; she is gone into the Countrey, and will not come home till night: I knew where she put the key, and no body knowes where I am. The Princesse finding her heart much eas'd by this little vent, and her com­plaints more to purpose, than when she powred them against the walls; she up, and told that small Auditory, all the severall Passages, that were between Maximanus, and her self, from the very beginning, to the end, (as is before related) and soone perceived (by the Girles earnestnesse in listning to her discourse, greedinesse, in hearkning after more, her pertinent questions, by the way, her letting fall so many showres of teares upon occasions, when the season of her discourse re­quired that moisture) that her language was not ill bestow'd, and that the perspicuity of her minde had over-match'd the number of her yeares; wherefore thinking with her selfe what use she might make of her, in vindicating her selfe from that soule aspersion, she ask'd the Girle, And dost thou pitty me? Yes indeed Madam (said Pippea.) And wouldst thou help me if thou couldst? (said the Princesse.) I with all my [Page 44] heart (reply'd the pretty thing) if I knew which way. Honoria (who had no other thoughts, but these; nor policy, (for the present) but how she might preserve her honour after death, and embalme her memo­ry when she was dead and gone) speakes thus unto that small epi­tomy, (wherein all her worldly comforts were compris'd) My pretty sweet Heart, if thou wilt doe one thing for me, God will blesse thee, and thou shalt never want his providence to defend thee from all wickednesse. It is this my pretty Maid, Maximanus will certainly murder me one time or other. Whereat Pippea shreek'd aloud. Oh take heed (said the Prin­cesse) somebody will heare you, and then you shall be sure never to see me any more, and so I shall want my pretty Comforter. Madam, (said Pippea) will not the same God blesse you also, and his providence defend you from all wickednesse? Blesse me (said Honoria) I hope he will, but defend me, it may be not; because it may be his pleasure that I may suffer, and I am con­tented to act any part that he shall put me to: in the meane time doe thou but act thine and I will pray for thee, and if I should out-live my misery, thinke how kind thou hast been to me. The Girle ask'd the Princesse, What it was she would have her doe? and if it were to be done, she needed not doubt of her good will, saying over and over againe, Madame, Ile doe it. Then said Honoria, I will write a Letter which the Prince may read, when I am gone into another world, that shall tell him, how true I have been to him, whilst I lived in this: if thou wilt be so true to me, and kinde in this one request, here is the key of my Cabinet, I pray thee take it, and I will write a Letter and thou shalt conveigh it into my Ca­binet, and when thou hast done, thou shalt bring me the key againe, and I will breake it, and throw it away, and so when Maximanus cannot open it, he will not breake it open, and Lorenzo shall come to see that, which it may be he may believe when I am dead, whatsoever he may otherwise whilst I am alive; wilt thou doe so much for me? Yes, reply'd Pippea, who wept whilst Honoria writ this Letter.

[Page 45] The Letter was superscrib'd for Lorenzo, Prince of Carthage: My Honoured Lord.

This Letter Honoria delivered to Pippea, who was as punctuall in her performance, as if her yeares had promis'd much discre­tion.

By this time Philoret is come to Court whom (having put on her maiden habit, whereby she might be least known in being likest her selfe, and the better conceal'd by leaving off her Disguise) we will call by her own name, Periissa, who applies her selfe to Corderius (a true friend to Bertaldo, and a great rarity in Court, an nonest man) one who was sufficiently already satisfied of the great wrongs which Honoria had sustain'd through the unjust usage of Maximanus? they two (having conferr'd notes together) thought fit, that he should admit her into his house as his Maid servant, whereby she might conceal her self the better: Thus Periissa was disguis'd in the propri­ety of her own Habit.

Periissa Hums about the Court like an industrious Bee, dwelling longest upon that Flower where most Honney was to be gather'd; a­mongst the rest, she finds Hortensius his discourses (like beds) best set with flowers of Invitation for her seeking faculty; him she Courts, and smiles upon; her, he thinkes as halfe his own: he asketh her the question, he takes her silence for consent. She makes use of her Ser­vants apprehension, as a Master-piece of Policy, telling him, that if he would but answer her to own question truly, and solve but one doubt really, be should soon know more of her mind: He vowes performance, and assures solution in any matter that she should propound.

Periissa soon reply'd, my Question is, (as you are a true Lover) whe­ther or no do you think that Honoria is innocent.

Hortensius fetching a deep sigh, answered, I would you were mine but halfe so sure.

And looking behind him, he told her, that no place was safe for that discourse, where stones were laid together by the power of Art, nor would he trust Woods and Trees, but as they grew simply, and out of me­thod: For (said he) when the Square and Line is once drawn over them, I cannot believe, but that (thereby) they are conjur'd into intelligencers; and that their Buildings have spies in every corner. Therefore (Sweet­heart) if you be pleas'd to repose so much confidence in me, as to walke over the Meadowes, and to trust your selfe with a Faith that never ble­misht its professor into a place of Trust, I will tell you (by the way, and in the trusty Groves) such things (concerning the business, wherein you would so faine be satisfied) as shall not leave you so much as a place for scruple.

Periissa glad of this profession, presently went along with him, where (by the way) Hortensius open'd his breast, and shewed her all the secrets that were lockt up there, concerning the whole busi­nesse, between Maximanus, and Honoria; himself, and Maximanus; untill such time as approaching the Tree where Bonella perished in the Hollow (by reason of the Secretaries perishing in the Dungeon.) [Page 46] Periissa (as if her divining Soul had bid her stand) makes a halt, and sayes, Will you tell me then Hortensius, if these things be true, what can you expect but to be made away at last, as the rest of his unhappy In­struments have been already? You that Act their part, must have their Exit.

Truly (said Hortensius) I look for no other.

Why will you stay here then (said Periissa.)

Hortensius casting his Eyes up towards the top of the Trees, he chanced to spie a Handkerchief, in which (it seemes) Bonella (finding her self forsaken, and buried alive in such a growing Coffin) had wrought her mind in Needle-work, and bloudy Characters sha­dowed with Death, which she in her life time (having folded up with a double weight, both of Substance and Signification) threw up to the place where she could not follow, which catching fast hold up­on a Bough, let fall the same friend that help'd it up, that it might the better hang out Maximanus his Villany, as upon a Signe-post: And this was the Inscription, viz.

Hortensius and Periissa having both read the Contents, were suffici­ently rejoyc'd, and furnished with ample satisfaction, they (having viewed the dead body) both returned to the place from whence they came, both resolving to be instruments of this discovery; in order [Page 47] whereunto they communed (by the way) about the manner of the accomplishment. Periissa having brought Hortensius privily to Cor­derius his house, she forthwith declares her self to Hortensius to be Bertaldo his Page, shewing him her Apparel, her Letters of Cre­dence; and calling upon Corderius to witnesse (what he thought to be) truth: Hortensius soon quitted his amorous passion, and fell in love with the designe. Corderius presently hastens them both away, with instructions, & some other Intelligence (relating to discoveries) which he himself had lately found out in Honoria her behalf. So that they were both gone upon a suddaine. Maximanus missing his En­gine, and guessing (rightly) that it would soon be employ'd against himself: and finding a great many of strange faces, with unwonted behaviours, daily looking upon him, thought it high time for him to look about: wherefore placing a strong Guard of confiding men to look well to the Princesse, and keep the rest in aw, he himselfe makes all the speed he could to Moretania (where Lorenzo was) and sends Post after Hortensius and Philoret (his supposed Mistresse) ta­king his flight as a matter of no small consequence; so that they were both seiz'd upon at the Ferry side (stay'd too long by contrary winds) by the Governour of Molocco, by vertue of Letters sent by Maximanus, charging them with the Highest Treason, and so were put into safe Custody, to attend the comming of Maximanus. Phi­loret then in Prison comforts up Hortensius, and betakes him to his old Stratagem (his Box of Oyntment) blacks his Face, alters his Habit, and so conveighs away his Letters and Instructions, toge­ther with himselfe (at noone day) so invisibly, as if he had carryed night about him; and so went unto the Governour himselfe, and preoccupies his understanding with such seasonable truthes, as his owne well-furnished abilities and dexterity could easily infuse into a man who had not been possess'd with prejudice, nor by assed with in­terest to either party: and so acquainted the Governour with the hard shift that he was faine to make to come to speak with him, be­fore the Tyrant Maximanus should batter the Justice of so good a Cause, with the engine of his false pretences: whereupon he thrusts his hand into a Bason of water, (that stood there by accident) and washes and wipes the disguise from off his face. Whereupon the Governour said unto him, That he had observ'd many to have put a Good Face upon a bad Matter, but he never had observ'd any to put a Bad Face upon a good Cause before. But the newes of Maximanus his arrivall, broke off all further discourse: the Governour (doing that which he most desir'd) dismiss'd him to his Fellow prisoner, pro­mising, That neither of them should suffer the least injury from him, by any meanes that Maximanus should attempt: And that he would see them safely brought to Lorenzo. He was no sooner departed the Roome, but Maximanus enters the house, with such prepared Inve­ctives, and high Accusations against Hortensius, that had not Philoret forestal'd his market, it might have very probably betray'd their In­nocence [Page 48] to hard usage. But withall, Maximanus told the Gover­nour, That he could not stay to desire further favour at his hands, then that he would secure them both till his returne; and then he would make known unto him his further desires concerning them. The Governour glad to hear him say so, told him. That he would have a speciall care that they should be forth-comming. So Maximanus posted away to­wards Lorenzo, whom after three dayes journey, he finds at Mostoka, that was the Emperours Palace.

CHAP. VIII.

NEwes being brought to Lorenzo, that Maximanus was arriv'd at Court, all were astonished at the impudence of the man, who bare himself high upon the confidence which he had of the Prince his favour towards him: but higher upon the strength of his owne braine, which he thought) stood him at any time, in stead of an Ar­my, to secure him from all emnity; nor did he a little relie upon his Oratory, able enough (in his owne conceit) to entangle no small flies, within the fine spun cobweb of his fucetious Language.

Him, the Prince sends for, with much greedinesse of desire to see, as also with a longing expectation to heare what he would say of his Honoria: in he comes, Lorenzo receives him with much respect, Bertaldo with grinding teeth, he Bertaldo with great humanity: the Prince ask'd him, How he had left his affaires in Carthage? and what winde had blowne him thither? what was become of his Honoria? com­manding an accompt of that particular, in the first place.

Maximanus with much reverence, and more confidence speaks as followeth: Sir, if you will have me speake in a word, on my soule she's innocent: and I can no more imagine her to be otherwise, than I can suppose the Sun's clarity, to be guilty of the same blemishes wherewith the unconstant Moone seems spotted. The good opinion I had of her virtue (to me) was such, that I refus'd intelligence from mine owne eyes, and eares. Why (said Bertaldo) what did you see or heare, speake out your full meaning? Worthy Bertaldo, reply'd Maximanus, let not a truth offend you, that proceeds from the mouth of him, who is as great an Ad­mirer of her worth and rare perfection, as if he were her Brother; but yet there were strange reports, stranger evidence, and demonstration it selfe, was strangest of all. What demonstration? (said Bertaldo) what reports? and what evidence? why dost thou not tell us what they were? [Page 49] Good Bertaldo (said the Prince) forbeare, let him speake his minde. Worthy Bertaldo (said Maximanus) give me leave to touch this sore, as gently as I may; I doe not tell you, that I believe any thing of all that I have heard, or what was witnessed against her, nor what I saw; but I believe that envy, and malice, have joyn'd issue, in the same Conspiracy; I believe the Witnesses were false, and that there was more than honest craft us'd to bring these things about, and that delusion had cast some false medium before our optick nerves, when we beheld the (supposed) vile Hortensius, in the same Bed, between Honoria and Amarissa; of which there are divers Witnesses, answering the former Reports. Where­upon, Bertaldo, with much vehemence, cryes out, Thou Liest, and I'le justifie it to be a Lie, wert thou a hundred Maximanus 's. To whom Maximanus (gently) reply'd, Worthy Bertaldo, you need not, for Maximanus hath (in this businesse) given himself the Lie oftner by ma­ny times; and is ready to write her Accusation false with no other point but what this sword shall willingly enable me a Subscriber to her inno­cence, with the blood of her Accusers; but how to reconcile the beliefe within me, to my outward senses, I cannot tell, if you'le have me sweare she's honest, virtuous, loyall, chaste, Ile doe it presently; or if (beyond be­liefe) you'le have me say I know it to be so, Ile say, and sweare that too; yet I have eyes and eares that gave me this intelligence, and yet I could never give them the least credit. Sir, if she be not true to you, Ile lose my life; and if I have not seen all this, with these same eyes, I am not Maximanus.

This speech, mingled in the same headpiece, with so many truths, and falshoods, mysterious expressions, and downright language, Riddles and Positives, so stupified those two (of so neare relation as Hus­band and Brother) that they stood like so many senslesse Statuaes, as if both their soules had suffered one ecclipse. Lorenzo first re­covering, as first outed of himselfe, ask'd Maximanus, If there were not some Witchcraft in't? or if some delusion had not beguil'd their sen­ses? Maximanus (as if he had been overjoy'd that the Prince had found it out) return'd this Answer, that he rejoyced exceedingly, to see, how the Prince had hit the same nayle on the head, that he had been hammering at all this while; and if there were not Witchcraft in't, he durst endure all the torments, that the shades of endlesse rest, with all their Hags and Furies thereunto belonging could inflict upon those Mortals, who wilfully doe fight against the Gods.

Bertaldo began to be wonderfully pleas'd with this discourse, Lo­renzo (not) to be fully satisfied with his relation, and if Similitude may obtaine Pardon for the Homelinesse of the Comparison, I may tell you, that these two Princes, retir'd themselves, for Solitude, into severall Corners, like those inferiour creatures, who having got be­tween their teeth some huge and mighty bone (though there be never so little meat upon't) yet run away with it into some corner or other, there privately to gnaw upon that, which shame would not permit them to manage (so) in Publique, and at last are faine to leave it, [Page 50] finding their hunger, more exasperated with toyle and labour, than their bellies satisfied with sustenance; so fruitlesse was their fum­bling at this Gordian Knot, whilst Maximanus laughes in his sleeve to thinke into what Dumps his omnipotent braine had cast these Sonnes of the Almighty.

At last (watching his opportunity) he findes Lorenzo all alone, and much perplex'd, whose troubled mind he appeases with a remedy worse then the disease.

Sir (said he) what need you vex your soul with these anxieties? Know you not that there is a Man whom all Affrica admires for his rare Art, and Skill, in representing to the inquisitive view of any man (that hath a desire to know) what things have past between mortall creatures rela­ting to any concernment? Hath not your Victories spread your Glory over the place of his Nativity? And will you make so little use of your Con­quest, as not to lay such Commands upon him, as will quickly solve all doubts, and set us all to rights, who are thus bewildred in the maze and labyrinth of these turnings and windings of our restlesse thoughts? Ho­noria deserves that you should use the meanes to quit your selfe of these vaine Jealousies and feares. For on my soule shee is as Chast as ever the shee-turtle dove, can be unto her mate. Though I could not stop my Eares, nor shut mine Eyes, against those things which I both saw, and heard: I should be as glad to be satisfied my selfe, as you; aliis rebus pietatem colas, we must set sorcery and witchcraft together by the eares, if the servants play the jack, we must complaine unto the Master Devill. I had rather be brought into Paradise againe, by his meanes, then to carry such a Hell within my bosome for want of a little shaking hands with the Devill. Pardon me Sir, if I venture too boldly in my advice, seeing my love cannot endure to see you in such a storme, as is ready to make Shipwrack of all your happinesse, and to overwhelme all your glory, in the depression of the greatest of your contentments. Whereupon Lo­renzo stops his further speaking with Embracements; crying over and over againe, Honest Maximanus! how much am I beholding unto thee? Who would have done this for me besides thy selfe? thou hast eas'd me already, let the event be what it will. I shall know the truth, that's something; nay, that's all: For if she be true, and faithfull to me, my heart's at rest: If she be false, yet I am satisfied in this, that I cannot wrong her whatsoere I doe. Wherefore I will not endure another dayes torment to gaine all Affrica. Prepare your self to goe along with me, I will be ready this night by ten of the Clock at the Park-gate all alone, there meet me privately; none shall know where we have been, or what we have done.

Then (said Maximanus) what great matter is't for us to steal our Quietus est, out of the Devils Office?

Thou sayest right Maximanus (said the Prince) honest, honest Maxi­manus, how much am I beholding unto thee!

In comes Bertaldo whilst they were in this discourse, whom Maximanus espying, patches up his discourse with a piece of a clean [Page 51] contrary colour, saying: Sir, I would not mistrust that woman to gaine the world; if you doe, you doe your selfe a great deal of wrong. Bertaldo saluted Maximanus very kindly, seeing Lorenzo look so cheerfully, whom he hoped (by this time) to be dispossess'd of that peaking Devill, Jealousie, by some Exercisme that Maximanus had then us'd, all was well, all were merry and joviall, a sine time, if it would hold: But alas, this was but that which we call lightning before death; mirth, before sorrow; and laughter, before destruction. The time appointed is already come, wherein Lorenzo and Maximanus were to meet, who both kept touch with one another (as such meet­ings seldome faile) they accosted (betimes in the morning at the Caves mouth) this Mandragora (the Devils Corn-cutter) who (when he has you by the foot, can easily tell you where the shooe wri [...]) invites them into his Den in this language: Sons of Curiosity, why stand ye gazing in the open aire? descend, and satisfie your long­ings in those demands wherein you would be satisfied, and I shall repre­sent the naked truth before your eyes, re-acted as at first it was. Now this Tredeskin of all natures secrets (who musters up his rarities, and draws them up in a Parade, fitting them for service) was richly bribed by Maximanus to present Honoria unto his view, in such unseemly po­stures with Hortensius, as might well bereave him so of all his senses, that he might easily drive him into most horrid and cruell resolu­tions against Honoria.

Forthwith Maximanus leads the innocent Lorenzo by the hand down into the Cave (like the venemous Spider, who once having entangled the harmlesse silly Flie within his Web, he drags him into his hole to torment, and there devour him) who having thus wil­fully forsaken the light, and condescended to those deeds of darkness. Apollio, the Devils Engineer, takes a Cushion in his hand stuffed with Mosse, that had been gathered off of dead mens Sculs, and claps it downe into a Chair, whose seat was softned with dead mens hair, legg'd and arm'd with dead mens Bones, and covered with their Skinnes: and bids Lorenzo to sit downe: Telling him, that now he is come there, he must doe as the place requires.

Then he falls to his conjuring termes, and circulations, which when he had throughly perform'd, he squeezes out of a bottle a glasse of water, or juice, that was extracted, and distill'd out of no other herb, or simple, but that which we (usually) call Jewes-eares; this he bids Lorenzo drink, still telling him, that now he is come there, he must needs doe as the place requires.

Lorenzo neither knowing what he did, nor yet what farther in­junctions might be required at his hands, once wish'd he had not put himselfe under a power wherein he was so ignorant of the danger of the disobedience; the frighted judgment of his brain (that then was ray'd with his own hair, standing stiffe an end, like ported feathers of some Porcupine) told him, That now he was gone so farre, it was no wisdome, and perhaps, no safety to retire. Wherefore he drank it off, [Page 52] then Apollio takes the milk of the Hienna, which he held out to him in a little cup, whose materiall was a dry'd and well wrought Toad­stool, which this Apollio called Eye-bright Water, willing him to wash his eyes therewith, not forgetting to tell him, That now he was come there, he must needs doe as the place requir'd. Which he obeys. These two Informers thus sufficiently corrupted, they could presently hear a fearfull noise, as that of Waters, falling downe their Precipice; then another like that of Thunder; afterwards a hollow sound, re­sembling that which men doe use to hear immediately after Earth­quakes: And at last, a rusling noise like flames of Fire, after they have newly made their eruptions out of their mothers womb. Apollio cryes silence to the four Elements, and all obey: Forthwith they might hear the language of Court-ships, the smacks of Kisses, the clapping of Cheeks, and the laughing at Jests: And these so Acted to the life, that Lorenzo might easily suppose them to be Honoria's words & laughter before he saw her. Then he might see Honoria with Hortensius his Armes about her Neck, and hers about his Middle, en­tring a loof, and after those lascivious postures that were between them, more uncivil then fitting to be express'd: He beheld Hortensius throwing her downe against a Flowry bank, committing those non dicenda's, which my Pen cannot be guilty of the relation; inso­much that Lorenzo's fancy was so strong, that his imagination thought it so reall, as that he drew his Sword, and would have executed vengeance upon a delinquency that never had a being, but in the Hiennas milk that had wash'd his Eyes, had not Apollio with his black rod forbade the enterprise by a wasted prohibition over the Prince his Head. Lorenzo cryes aloud, I have seene enough, and will be reveng'd for what I've seene. Apollio Brandishes his Black Rod againe, and tells him, He must see all with patience now he is there, and be as much displeas'd afterwards as the cause required.

Lorenzo was now vexed that he must see more, and have (for the present) no other subject (but a Type) to wreak his fury on: In dis­content he flings himselfe downe into the Chaire, in such disorderly method, that he brake the legs and armes thereof, recovering him­selfe from the fall, with bruising his right hand, which was a good Omen, viz. that at last he should break the bones of that delusion wherein he had seated himself by such perswasion, and recover him­self by the crush of Maximanus. Now the scene is altered, and there appeares a faire goodly Chamber, with a Rich Bed, which Lorenzo remembred (well enough) exactly to set forth his owne. Apollio with his Charming instrument drawes open the Curtaines; so that Lorenzo plainly saw Hortensius (between Honoria and Ama­rissa) kissing Honoria and Amarissa (with violent hands) snatching the kisses (head and all) from the embracing Armes of (the as much Beautifull, as abus'd) Honoria; together with some other Non-cre­denda's that were not to be believ'd by any, but by such as had learn'd their Creed out of the Devils Chatechisme. Lorenzo having [Page 53] observ'd too much by all: Leaves that Hellish darknesse for the Heaven­ly Light; and swears by the true substance of that shadow, that he will be severely reveng'd upon that foul Abuse, and fair Adultresse: say­ing, That this was Amarissa 's spightfulnesse towards him, to Bawd out her revenge for his supposed for saking of her, but he would be quit with her. Presently Signing to both their Deaths under his owne Hand, written against the Shoulder of Maximanus, that was broad enough to bear so great injuries to others, whilst they were so narrow in his owne behalfe, that they were not able to support the burthen of a Chast deniall.

Thus the last Act being ended, Lorenzo having spoke the Epilogue, Maximanus gives the Plaudite in these words:

Worthy Prince,

As long as there was any favourable possibility of beating back a be­lief, that forc'd it self so violently upon me (you know) I did withstand it, but now I must give way, and applaud your resolution.

Maximanus (said Lorenzo) thou art too good, and I too happy in such a Friend; crown all thy other services with thy obedience to this one Com­mand: look that they doe not live longer then the time that thou shalt be Riding Poste to Carthage, shall defer the Execution, and that it may be the sooner done, make haste to Horse. O Whores, and hatefull pieces of Wo­man-kind, I am sorry you have but one life apiece to lose. Make haste Maximanus, I pray thee make haste.

Sir (said Maximanus) what will you doe with Bertaldo? if you doe not make sure of him, you'l finde a Canker in your bosome.

Maximanus (said Lorenzo) be sure I'le pare his Nailes, and knock the teeth out of his Head when first I meet him.

Maximanus, good Maximanus, (said Lorenzo) wilt thou make all the haste thou canst, and let me hear from thee as soone as ere thou canst that they are dead.

So they both parted, the one with a laugh in his Sleeve, the other with a flea in his Ear.

Lorenzo returning from his Purgatory, to his Palace, Bertaldo could not be long out of his sight, but salutes him in this language: How fares the Prince? we thought that we had lost you, none could tell what was become of you.

Lorenzo gives him this sullen reply, It may be so, what of that?

Bertaldo asked him, what was become of Maximanus?

Lorenzo told him, that Maximanus was, where Maximanus should be, about his businesse.

Bertaldo (supposing that Maximanus (having engrossed him to himself all that time of absence) had put him into this bad humour) told him, That he beleeved that Maximanus had done ill Offices be­tweene him and his Sister; wishing him to beware how he suffered him­selfe to be abus'd by such an instrument.

As your Sister (said Lorenzo) who could play the Hypocrite so fine­ly when I was there, and the Whore so cunningly when I was gone. The [Page 54] truth whereof, since I saw you last, I have been fully satisfied. You have been fully injur'd (said Bertaldo) and not satisfied: by him you could not, who was unsatisfied himselfe: 'tis he has play'd the Hypocrite, and is the bad Instrument that makes this discord in the Harmony that should be be­tween Man and Wife, Friend and Friend. Lorenzo remember how you had once forgot your selfe before, and acknowledg'd your own Errour.

It was an Errour that I acknowledg'd it to be so, (said Lorenzo) but now my judgement stands on better termes.

No, on worser Grounds, reply'd Bertaldo.

Bertaldo lyes, reply'd the Prince.

Whereat Bertaldo having lost all patience, told him, That neither the Guard of his Person, nor his Conquering Army, should any longer confine his Soul from her Enlargement; but that he durst tell him to his face, that he was unworthy of her, and his un-princely behaviour to­wards her undeserving of the least perfection in her.

Whereat they both drew their Swords upon one another, and be­gan to lay on blowes: Cosdruball and Hanno standing by would not suffer it, but lay'd hands upon Bertaldo, perswasions upon Lo­renzo, neither prevailing: The Prince his Guard was call'd, and seiz'd upon Bertaldo, who by Command was committed a close Prisoner. Lorenzo still raving against Honoria and Amarissa, with no small threatnings against Bertaldo. The night (comming on) that should have given him rest, administers new matter of disquietnesse; for Aminda's (now) angry Genius gives him this Curtain-lecture as a cooling Card to his over-boyling Rage.

Lorenzo starts out of his Bed, and raves about the Roome, tearing his Hair, on whom Aminda bestowes this sad farewell:

[Page 55] Lorenzo cryes out, Oh ye powers above, and ye below! why doe ye rack me thus? why doe you not agree upon your Principles, and draw me (so but one way) which you will? can no ease shelter a minde from being baited thus? or are both powers agreed to play at Foot-ball with a mortall Creature? Then flings into his Bed, kicks away the Cloathes, pulls them on againe; falls from restlesse thoughts, into unquiet slum­bers: And from thence, into the fearfullest Dreames, out of which he was at last awakened with a greater Terrour. For Berontus brought Intelligence that the Moores had beaten up the Out-quarters of the Army, appearing like clouds that hung upon the Mountains, where we leave him for a while in his distracted thoughts of preparation against so great an Army, to hasten after Maximanus, that we may observe how he prospers in his Affaires.

CHAP. X.

MAximanus riding post to the Garrison, where he had left Hortensius and Philoret, in as great haste demands the Prisoners of the Governour, who (as short as he) tells him, that he is none of his Vassall, neither his Masters Subject, and that he would send them to Lorenzo, ac­cording to their instructions, and their owne desires. Instructions, said Maximanus, I pray from whom? I am not bound to tell you (said the Governour.) Maximanus began to smell a Rat, and thought it high time to looke about him, and to make haste with his Execution, for fear of a Reprieve: nonsuited, he departs suddenly for Carthage, and the Governour sends his Wards to Mauritania, and brings them partly on their way, where we leave them, and hasten after Maximanus, whom we have now overtaken, within the Walls of Carthage.

He was no sooner there, but he hastens on the Triall, but he is re­sisted by the major part of the Nobility, and especially by Corderius, who told him plainly, that though he was the Chiefe, yet he was but one, and that there were strange rumours in the Court, that forbade those undertakings, till the Prince return'd, requiring the Prisoners more Enlargement and better Usage. Maximanus remembring that his Commission was to kill and slay, (rather than to bring to triall) he resolves to put it in Execution any way, and not to insist at all up­on the forme; wherefore he prepares two bloody Villaines to carry [Page 56] these two Innocents, privily, by night, into the Wood, and there to Murder them: they receive their Wages, and goe about their worke. Honoria and Amarissa (not having seen one another many a day) now see themselves both carried (like two sheep) unto the slaughter; they wept on one another, but were soone parted, and dragg'd away by night into the Wood, (the Moone shining bright) wherein, they were no sooner entred, but one of the Murderers told them that they must die. With all my heart, when you please, reply'd Honoria, but did you know the wrong I suffer, I know you would not doe it for the world; but because it is impossible for me, to make you believe otherwise, I will urge you no further. Are you prepar'd? said one of the Villaines. Alas! said Honoria, my five months imprisonment, hath been nothing else but a preparation for this end. Why, said the other (beginning a little to re­lent) are you innocent? will you take it upon your death? I doe, I will, reply'd Honoria. Harke ye, said Amarissa, so will I, and as sure as ye are Men, so sure are we both innocent, so sure goe I a Virgin to my Grave, so sure is Prince Lorenzo 's Bed unstain'd and undefiled by the chaste Honoria. Maximanus doth all this, because she would not yeild to him, in that, for which, he now destroyes us both: you cannot be igno­rant of the reports in every mouth, throughout the Court, of a sleeping Drinke, that was given us, to keep us fast enough from waking, whilst the innocent Hortensius drunke with the same brine, should senslesly be laid between us, nor of Bonella and the Secretary (both Agents in the same designe) both made away, for feare of telling tales: you cannot be ignorant of Hortensius and Bertaldo 's Page, both sent unto Lorenzo, to acquaint him with the businesse, who by this time are farre enough out of Maximanus his clutches; you cannot imagine but that Lorenzo will be shortly here, and soone enform'd of these particulars; but (then) too late, when we are murder'd by you.

Good Fellowes, let me tell you what you shall doe, I know, that what you doe, you doe for money; follow but my advice, ye shall be rich enough, highly rewarded, and promoted for your service, preserve us but for a while, and say that you have murdered us; have you no friends with whom you may repose so great a confidence? and if (upon Lorenzo's returne) you doe not finde us cleared and lamented beyond imagination, then come and doe your office; but if you finde it, as I'm sure you shall, what thanks, what praises, what rewards will be thought too great for such a preservation?

Navigius (one of the Villaines) a Sea-man by profession, began to thinke it both piety and policy; the other Blood-hound cry'd, Let's doe our worke, we came not here to hear them prate. But heark you, (said the other to his Fellow) suppose that all this be true, I assure you there are a great many that doe believe it. Suppose you are Fool'd, (said the other) with a Womans tears & language, must I be so too? True or false, Ile doe as I was commanded: and forthwith drawes his Sword, and was falling to his worke. Which the other perceiving, drawes too, and bids him hold a little, the two Innocents get behind the Sea-man: [Page 57] the other swearing, that he would come at them, or he would make his way through Navigius his sides. The Sea-man (partly with choller, partly with pitty, and partly with a kinde of sence of honour, how brave a thing it would be for him to be the Preserver of those two Ladyes, and have all the glory to himselfe) undertakes their quarrell, they both fight, and Amarissa perceiving that their Friend was like­liest to be worsted, she takes off her Scarfe and ruffles it up in a heap, & throws it in the others eyes, whilst the Sea-man runs him through the body, that downe he fell, and dyed immediately. Whereupon the two Ladyes (like two Hens that cluck about their fighting Cock after that he hath got the victory) applaud his Valour, he Amarissa's Policy, and tells Honoria, how that he was a Sea-man by his profession, and that he was Partner of such a Ship, that rode in such a Bay, that was not very farre off, and how that the winde stood faire for the Island of Majorca, and that thither he would carry them, where they should expect for better fortune. They were ravish'd with joy, for this good newes, calling upon him to make haste, thinking themselves beholding to the Moone who first gave them light, to be their assistant, and then went downe, as conniving at their departure.

They were both shipt, and under sayle, the sayles carried them upon their wings, to their desired Harbour in the greater Island of Majorca, but it is impossible for a Darke grey ever to make a True blew, so the Gallantry that was worded into this man, could not but a little favour of the caske wherein it was infus'd, for as he stumbled upon an act of honour, so he tripp'd in his thorow pace to true magnanimity & Gallantry, for he was no sooner landed in the Island, but he offers up their beauties to sale and prostitution, for base lucre sake: Honoria is soone bought by Thoron, great Commander of the Island; Amarissa perceiving which way she was going, betakes her to the wit that never fail'd her in her extremity, telling her Chapman that if she must be sold she must obey, and that there was a rich and wealthy man, who was an inhabitant in the Isle Minorca, who was a great Suitor to her formerly for a piece of some Dishonesty, and that he offered her a thousand Crownes for her Virginity; the latter I have still, (said she) the former is at your commands, if you doe but bring me thither; if you cannot make more of me here, I hope you will thinke it wisdome to carry me thither. This Gentleman (whom she meant, and whose name was Castriot) was her owne Unkle, thither she deludes this Asinego to the preservation of her owne Honour, and Honoria's; for he had no sooner brought her thither, but she tells her Unkle the whole story, who did him no hurt for the good-sake which he had done, and no great good for the evil­sake which he intended. Castriot presently writ to Thoron (his great acquaintance and speciall friend) what Civilities he should use to a Per­son of so great quality as was Honoria, who had not as yet discovered her Condition unto Thoron (being (craftily) told by Navigius, that if she did reveale her self, she should certainly be betray'd into Maxima­nus his Custody by Thoron, who two were all one) and yet preserv'd her [Page 58] self from his contagion by this stratagem. She pretends her self to be a Maid, and begs hard, that his pleasure might be suspended but for three dayes; the third day being come, she entreats (for modesty sake) that he would meet her in the darke; he grants her request, and all, to ob­taine her good will, as well as her selfe; he appointed her the place where she should goe, which was, to a spacious Roome, where was no light at all; he followes her, who had slipt off her shooes against his comming, who (entring the Roome) ask'd her where she was? she answered, here my Lord: he advancing towards the voice, she tra­verses her ground, and was not to be found; he ask'd her againe, where art thou? she steps aside againe, and said, I am here, why don't you come? why where, said Thoron: Here I tell you, said Honoria: still waving his approach till she had kept him in that posture two long houres, till at last he was glad that he had found the dore, and shut­ting her in, he fetches a candle, which he brings with him in his hand, and enters the Roome the second time, asking her, why she us'd him in that manner? To let you see (reply'd Honoria) what a vanity it is that you hunt after; Beauty is but skin deep, and that skin you could not tell how to touch without being beholding to so poore an accessary as the light of a Candle: Cotton, and Tallow, are fine ingredients, to be of the Essence of your amorous Passion; for, you see without them, you were as farre from laying hands, as eyes upon the object of your delight, which is not so much reall, as it is imaginary; nor is it so much as valuable by ima­gination neither, but by accident, like glasse or ice, that have no lustre in themselves, but by reflection of a second cause: Alas! this thing which you call Beauty wherewith you men are so transported, is but differenc'd from Deformity, like the glistring rayes of Steele and Iron, that's still the same in substance, worth, and quality, with that which is but rusty: Alas! what is this inconsiderate thing called Beauty? a thing not qualified with so much virtue as are severall stones, salt-water, or rotten wood: Nay, the beautifullest outside of Woman-kind has not those priviledges, that nature hath bestowed upon the scales of fishes, or the eyes of catts, all these have their excellencies visibility in the darke, but you could neither see, nor finde, nor touch, nor take your pleasure, but by some other meanes, which was neither in your selfe, nor me; wherefore if you will be rightly in love, be not in love with Accidents, but with that substance, to which light it selfe is but a shadow. The soule that forsakes the Divine love, and gives it to the Creature, is like the silly Chicken, who having lost his parent, followes after the next creature that it meets withall; your love is but misplac'd; Oh! how admirably would you love the Gods? how well bestow'd were that affection? yet I wil not deny but that there is a lawfull, and true love proper between Man and Woman; but withall, there is an idoneity in placing that affection, it must not be fixt upon an illicit ob­ject, such a one, as I am to all mankinde, that are affected with the awe­fulnesse of a deity, having vow'd my selfe, a Vestall Virgin: Wherefore make your retreat as honorable as you can, and let your behaviour be such, to your poore Servant, as becomming the honour of your Ancestory, and a patterne of true piety, and virtue.

[Page 59] Thoron fell from being in love with her person, to be much affected with the rare perfection of her minde; And as well becomming the imitation of a true Convertite, he gives himselfe to resignation in those things, which her divine Reasons had fore-dictated unto him, bidding her henceforward to feare no worse events but what her owne Commands should lay upon him, and the rest that then were under his Au­thoritie.

But there happened a very merry passage (occasioned by Thoron's familiarity and so much courting of Honoria) between the said Tho­ron and his Wife Armena, who being a Woman of a high Spirit, and one that had formerly got the mastery of two Husbands, and had oftentimes bid faire for this, but found that the god Mercury was not to be made of every piece of wood, and that this was of too cross-grain'd a disposition for all her art and tooles to engraven a similitude of any of the former out of either of the originalls, for this was a notable man at curbing a woman, howsoever the often attemptings hereof had been the occasion not onely of much difference, but oftentimes of some hard usage towards Armena, which at this time (by reason of Thoron's dayly addresses and supposed intimacy with Honoria, to­gether with her disdaine and jealousie thereupon) was much aggra­vated, for she drew upon her self heapt measures of his rage and fury, for he was no lesse liberall with his tongue in his unseemly language against her, but his hands were also somewhat heavy upon her, which he had no sooner perform'd, but she vow'd she would be reveng'd, calling him, Coward and base Fellow to strike a Woman, telling him, that it is pitty but that there should be a Law to make it death to any one that should strike a Woman that had never struck a Man (which words sunk the deeper into his cogitation, being so well fastned to the weight of his owne guiltinesse) bidding him looke to it, telling him, that if she could not get Men and Women enough to take her part, she would set Dogs upon him but she would be reveng'd, and never would put up so foule and unmanlike an affront upon a Woman of her quality: and forthwith flung out of the roome.

Thoron knowing her high spirit, great friends, and remembring how (most commonly) she us'd to be as good as her word, believ'd no lesse, but fear'd as much; he could wish it undone, but could not tell how to help it: would fain have been friends with her, but knew not how: she cast about, in what manner she might load her vengeance on his back, yet not breake it, 'cause some trembling in his joynts, but breake no bones; her fury rather inventing some witty stratagem of revenge, than consulting with any malice that was implacable; she (diving into her Husbands disposition, and finding it but of somwhat an inferiour alay in point of magnanimity) resolves upon an ad­venture, no lesse answerable to the fulnesse of her satisfaction, than in­nocent in the prosecution thereof, and thus she layes her plot: she sends to Fanor, one in whom she reposed much confidence, and knew to be one whom Thoron had a good opinion of, him she ac­quaints [Page 60] with the falling out between her and her Husband, pretends a great desire to be reconcil'd: Fanor was very desirous to performe so good an office between them; she prevents his seeking braine, with what she had prepared out of her own invention, and thus far she acquaints him with her designe. Fanor (saith she) I thinke I need not tell you of the difference that is between my Lord and I, he abus'd me, and gave him as good as he brought; yet howsoever it is not fit that Man and Wife should continue long at such a distance, I believe he would be willing enough to be reconcil'd, but his stomack will not come downe; and I could finde in my heart to kisse and be friends, but I cannot abide to seek to him, so that the strife between us two is onely this,

Wherefore, honest Fanor, I would have thee doe thus, Invite us both to Supper, and some others, whose company thou knowest will be most plea­sing to him, (I will be at all the Charges) and let me have the best Mu­sick that may be had for money. Here Fanor began to interrupt Ar­mena, saying, Madame, by no meanes, you both have not been so sparing in your obligations, nor your benefits so slenderly perform'd in the behalf of your humble Servant, as that he should not be as willing as able to de­posit such a pledge of gratitude without any such Indentures. No, no, good Fanor, (said Armena) it must not be so, I must have my will, the reasons you shall know hereafter, and the house and managery of the whole businesse you shall leave to me: doe you goe and invite him, and tell him, that your intention is to doe the like to me, and then let me heare what he sayes, and you shall know more of my minde hereafter.

Away goes Fanor to Thoron, and acquaints him with his desires. Thoron, glad of this opportunity, tells Fanor, that He could not have done him a greater pleasure, for at this time (said Thoron) there is a little falling out between me and my Wife, and a third place and strange company will be the onely meanes to take away that strangenesse that is between us, where both of us shall be apt to fall into our former familiarity through shame that any notice should be taken of its being otherwise, lest it be a shame unto us both; and where merriment may haply put her into a good humour: but dost thou think thou canst prevaile with her?

Leave that to me, (said Fanor) on my life she shall goe with you. I pray thee doe, said Thoron.

Away went Fanor to Armena, and acquainted her with all that had pass'd between her Lord and him.

Armena insinuates her designe to Fanor's approbation, which thus she put in execution: The time being come when it was time to goe, and Thoron already mounted in his Caroach, word was brought the Lady Armena that my Lord staid for her; she begins her small revenge with letting him wait a little: yet ever and anon sending him word that she was comming, making her tiring of his patience to act the first [Page 61] part of her Comedy; at last she comes handed by Fanor, and as she drew neare the Caroach, Thoron would faine have spoken to her, if he knew how; and angrily, if he durst: Come, come, was all he said: those two words (he thought) bated not one inch of his spirit, and yet he insulted not a little (inwardly) that they were such words, and so spoken, as might very well imply an indignation: but Armena be­ing ready to step into the Caroach, beheld him with such a sprightly countenance, and piercing eye, that his dull ones (as if two bullets had been fixt in clay) inform'd his timorous soule, that they beheld armed men in womans eyes: whereupon, he bethought himselfe of an ho­nourable retreat (if he should be charged with any hastinesse of speech, or roughnesse of language) and how he might safely bring those two words off againe (if occasion serv'd) with the safe conducts, of ex­cuse, and kindnesse. But, Armena fearing to spoile the game she was now playing with too much forwardnesse, resolv'd, to use no other castigation for the present, but her looks: wherefore, without speak­ing a word unto him, she ascends the Caroach. Thoron, that he might, and might not seem to help her up, reaches out his hand, but never so much as touch'd her; he thought he could doe no lesse than what she found to be nothing at all. The time which the Caroacheer allow'd himselfe for setting forward seem'd tedious to them both, whilst neither of them knew how to behave themselves to one ano­ther, otherwise then in setling themselves; which they were both longer about, then either of them needed, protracting the time with such antick behaviours, untill the language of the whip, caused the wel-manag'd horses, to make stones, and wheels, supply the place of oratory, until such time as they came to the place where they were to light; and then they were to seek againe. Thoron first descends the Caroach, after him, Fanor: whom, when Thoron had espied almost ingag'd in the service of leading his Lady by the arme, he made a kinde of offer as if he would (if Fanor had not) have been so kind. Armena seeing the respect she lookt for, approaching a farre off, waves the former; and expects the advance of her Husbands courtesie: he so far on in his way, knew not how to recall himselfe, but goes thorow with it, and leads her by the arme, through a Court which (on both sides in the pav'd walks) was fill'd with some of his acquaintance, but all her friends: who saluted them both at a distance, and no more, (as she had laid the plot) up staires he leades her, Fanor leaves them both, into a spacious goodly Roome she brought him, no body there, the saying of the cloath, the many trenchers, and napkins, spake many Guests; but his expectation wondred at the solitude, and her silence, (together with the feare of what he saw without) had put him into such a perplexity that it made such a throng of confused thoughts within his breast, that when he strove to give them ayre, they wedg'd themselves so in the dore of utterance, that a word could not come forth.

Now you must understand that Armena had so laid the plot that [Page 62] the Musitians (our of a Musick Roome over head invisible) had Command given them, that as soone as ever the Lady Armena should speak the word DRAW, that then they were to strike up: and (for the greater Terrour sake) the Lesson, which was call'd the BATTAIL; and thereupon a mighty noise and bustling was heard at the back Door and Entry that led into the Dining Room; with some other preparations and performances requisite to the designe she had in hand. All things thus in a readinesse, and his body sufficiently pre­par'd for the operation of such Physick, she thus begins to act her part:

My Lord,

You know who I am; neither am I ignorant of the uttermost of your Worth and Merit: you know upon what termes you took me, and what you promis'd, and how you have abus'd me, contrary to all Faith and Ho­nesty, contrary to all Civility and Man-hood: think you that my Fathers Daughter can put up such injuries as these at Thorons hands?

No Sir, you shall now know, that you are in my power, and find that I can use you according to your demerits. Draw (said Armena) forthwith the Musick struck up, immediately whereupon there was heard such a noise of clattering of Armour together, clashing of Swords one against another; such duplications, and re-duplications of Blowes: And to compleat all Terrour, a most fearfull noise of many verbe­rations, and re-verberations of so many stripes (as it were) of Cudgels over the shoulders of unarmed Men. Armena in the next roome having placed ten lusty Fellowes (at the same time) to be there beat­ing the dust out of a piece of Hangings; And to make the Fury the more formidable, she had ordained certaine men to dash huge and mighty Earthen Pitchers against the wall, as if mens Braines were beating out, and the pieces of their Sculs flying about the roome. In which interim (in severall places) high words were at Variance; Vehement language in hot Skirmish; Down with him sayes one; Enter, enter, saith another; Hold, hold, saith a third; We will have him saith a fourth. All this while Thoron stood in a maze, Armena with her Armes a kimbo, laughing in his face all the while; but at last, when the Terrour had made its approach up to the very Doore, and they all cryed, Fall on, fall on, fall on, (as if the Assasinats had got the victo­ry) away runs Thoron down the staires, (the only way from whence appear'd (as yet) no horrour) Armena after him, when behold! he was not half way down the staires, but he beheld men all in Armour, with ported Halberts at his breast: Thoron makes a stand, and by this time the Furious Bustle was got into the Dining Roome, as if it threatned an execution into attomes. Armena finding her Husband by this time in a sufficient extasie, cryed to him, My Lord, my Lord, you have no way in the world to save your Life, but to throw your selfe upon my mercy, and aske me forgivenesse.

That joyfull word, and comfortable saying, open'd his Mouth; who, upon his knees, cryes unto her with elevated and wrung hands [Page 63] together, Dearest Love, good Wife, sweet Armena, spare my life but this time, and I will never offend thee more! O speak to them Armena! speak to them good Armena! Lot them not come up, keep them from comming downe; I will deserve your mercy, and you shall have your will for evermore.

Armena having brought her Designe to full perfection, call'd him to her, saying, Come hither, come hither my Lord, quickly, quickly, quickly. Thoron rises up, and askes her where? Where for the love of God? Here (said Armena) Lie downe here (placing him in a corner of the Staires, close behind her) whilst she beckons with her Hand, (which was the Signe that they should be gone) who being vanished by degrees, she bids him get up, and follow her, and fear nothing (being very desirous to make as short work with him as she could, he smelt so strongly of the running disease) he followes her with his Eyes wandring about, lest any part of the Enemy should lie in Am­bush, and surprize him, before he could call for succour to Armena; and never thought himself safe untill she had brought him under Lock and Key, where she read him this Lecture:

My Lord,

You see how that you are more afraid then hurt, and that there was more Sport then Harme in my Revenge: You see I can play with you and yet not hurt you; and, if it be not your own fault, you shall find, that I can Jest with you, and Shame you not. For I protest unto you, there is none of all those Swash-bucklers, or Halbertiers, that knew the least particular of my intention; neither have any taken notice of your fear, nor is it possible they should know that it was any trick of mine, neither was there any intention to doe you the least hurt. And upon my Honour, Fanor (him­selfe) was no more privy to this plot then the Sucking Child: For it was I (that had a mind to be friends with you) who caused him to invite us both unto a Supper; I am at the Charges of the Feast, I ordered the bu­sinesse; this was to be but the beginning of a Masque, whereby (as it were) the scene of blustring Mars was open'd, next whereunto Peace is to appear with all her plenty in her Armes, placing her severall Dishes upon the Table. Fanor I sent away on purpose (upon an Errant) that he should not take notice of my designe; now, if you can keep your own coun­cell, and use me well; that is to say, let me have my will, for I will have it, you shall never be disgrac'd for all this: otherwise I will shew you twenty such tricks as these.

Thoron (about to commend her wisdome, assure her of performance of her desires, and to Embrace her in his Armes) brought such a scent along with him, that she could not but take notice of it, and offer him her assistance, (as farre as it was fitting) wherefore she told him, (merrily, and smiling upon him) My Lord, I know you have bewray'd your self most abominably, and there is a necessity in it, that I must stand your friend, or else all the wit in both our pericraniums will not be able to keep this a secret. Therefore I will tell Fanor that you and I intend to lie in his House all night, and I'le send home my Woman for clean Linnen, [Page 64] and so you may shift your selfe; and if you can make your self clean, I can keep your councell. Thoron confess'd all, and pray'd her to be as good as her word, but especially in keeping his Councell in every particular, assu­ring Armena that she should finde him a very good Husband from that time forward: things being performed on her part she ordering the businesse as she promis'd, brought him (though somewhat late) sweet and clean, hand in hand, lovingly together, into the Dining Roome amongst all the Company, whose no notice taking of any such mat­ter; nor laughing or jeering at any such thing, (as indeed they had no cause, such was their ignorance) very much confirm'd and consolated the poor man, who was fully satisfied with this belief, that all had been true that had been assur'd unto him by his Wife: But Armena upon this hold, Raigned as Lady Governesse ever after.

CHAP. XI.

FAnor (perceiving the suddaine alteration and submisse behaviour of Thoron towards his Wife Armena, toge­ther with some other circumstances) collected a great many particulars conducing to a perfect knowledge of the meanes, whereby Armena had obtain'd that Sove­raignty over her Husband, which as good as known, she as good as acknowledged, which was the occasion of some discourse betweene them two, concerning atchievements of that nature. For Armena was of opinion, That there was never a Woman in the world, but might have her will of her Husband, and doe what she would with him, except she were a fool (let him be of what disposition he could be of.)

How is that (said Fanor?) That were a Doctrine that would finde many Disciples if you could teach it them.

Truly (said Armena) I can teach it you.

With all my heart (said Fanor) I would willingly learn it, that I might teach it to my Mistrisse, whereby she might become an excellent Wife.

O (said Armena) she will never learn it of you, it must be taught her by one of her own sex, that she may learn it from her.

How is it I beseech you Madam?

A wise Wife (said Armena) must prie into the inclination and disposition of her Husband, observe his humours, informe her selfe of what temper he is made, otherwise she gives battaile before she knowes how the enemy lyes: many a foolish Woman hath lost the day for want of this fore­cast: if she perceives him to be of a Noble constitution of mind, and mag­nanimous spirit, then (whatsoever hers is) let her submit to him: and then (as a flint is sooner malleable that receives its stroakes upon the yeil­ding [Page 65] cushion than upon resisting iron, so the stoutest heart, mollifies and relents, upon the softnesse of a disposition, that hardens, where it meets with opposition.

Or like a fiddle-stick Madame, (said Fanor) which though you sit upon it with all your weight, upon a hard bench, yet it will not break; but if you lay it on a feather-bed, and so repose your weight upon it, it will break im­mediately.

Come, come, you are a wagge (said Armena) I speak nothing but reason, Mars his Men, have minds, like Mars his Livery; and are of the same nature of the Buffe they weare: through which a Straw may insinuate it selfe, when the sharpest edge or point can neither cut nor enter; through which the mildnesse of a breath can puffe the fierce flame of an incensed Taper out, which full-chopt Boreas (with his keenest breath) can never pierce. A noble mind will foster up those pleasing submissions of a Wife, with such condescentions, as shall be incouragements to a good subject: whereas contention between such high Spirits, is like Brimstone, mingled with Coal and Peter, whereof such a composure is soone made, as with the additament of the least heat, the whole frames, piles, and building, which have been erected upon no lesse firme foundation then sacred vows, and conjugall affections have been oftentimes blown up, and have re­turn'd no greater benefit to their Parents, then Noise and Terrour.

But if she finds her Husband to be a poor spirited man, then let her put hard (a Gods Name) for no small share in the Government. Then let her make her self (if she can) a Free state, her husband, but her Duke of Ve­nice. She doth but like those Indian Women, who carry their Heads in their Bosoms: such a Man wil be glad to do any thing for quietnes sake like dying man, whose spirits being spent, and weak, sayes I to every thing, to avoid troublesomnesse) whereas the want of these inspections and prosecu­tions, is the occasion of all the combustions that are twixt Man and Wife.

There is no way to make an abject minde become a monster, but by hu­mouring of it; and if you sacrifice complacencies to such a poverty, you make him a Tyrant.

Madame, (said Fanor) your Ladyship speaks in extreames, but what would you doe if you had an indifferent Man to your Husband?

Truely Fanor, (said Armena) I have often pray'd against such a one, and have often requested of the God of Marriage, that he would give me either a wise Man, or a Foole to my Husband; for, I ever thought, that if I had a wise Husband, he knew how to govern me; or, if a Foole, I knew how to order him: but I speake not (Fanor) of greater or lesser capacities of wit and understanding, which allow a meane; but of high or vulgar spirits which admit no medium; for, the enquiries (I meane) which we make into the disposition of a Man, is to know of what mettle he is made, whether of base, or noble? not of what ingenuity he is of, or how many degrees he hath taken in that excellence; for Noblenesse is either higher or lower, according to the severall occasions it hath to worke upon; but still wee are not to consider them as di­stinct Species by their severall occurrences, but as one and the same [Page 66] kinde, and altogether one noble nature; and the latter (being a contrary quality and base temper of the blood) we never examine of how inferiour an allay it is, which also seems to us more or lesse, according to the seve­rall accidents it meets withall, yet still we must totall the particulars un­der the notion of Ignoblenesse; so that in this consideration, there is no place left for Indifference to act her part, and these two leafes of the same dore have never a wicket to let a sneaking disposition creep between them; either he must be a brave Gallant Man, or else some faint-hearted coward­ly Companion; and if he be but either of these, I can play my game to my owne advantage.

But all this while Madame, (said Fanor) you suppose the wisdome al­together in the Wife, what if the Husband were a wise Man? may not he tame, rule, or have his Wife at his beck of whatsoever spirit she were of?

I have granted you that already said Armena) my Argument holds good from the lesser to the greater; but Mans wisdome must not be there exercis'd in the observation of humours, or discerning of spirits, but in the well management of the power of his dominion: for both Civill and Divine Lawes have given such a soveraignty to men over their Wifes, that they oftentimes lose their Prerogatives by seeking to gaine that by Reason which is theirs by Authority. He that gives a Woman leave to argue the case with him, doth but like a foolish Gamester, that lends a needy fellow mony to play against himselfe. For though the matter be never so just on her side concerning which they may contest, yet the cause cannot be but unjust on her part, in regard it is Contestation, which ought not to be. I would have a wise man to admit his wife his Councellour, but not his Opponent: to help him to finde out the truth of things, but not to strive for victory in the Argument, or carry more saile then bal­last in her words. That man who seeks to over top his wifes high Spirit with a higher, is but like a King who condescends to receive satisfacti­on from a Subject, by fighting a single duell when he may have his will by his Prerogative. He that answers the nimblenesse of his wifes tongue with the volubility of his owne, doth but justifie the warre by giving quarter: nothing makes this subject sooner rebell, then when she sees her Emperour knowes not how to Command. I tell thee Panor, there is not a disease in Wedlock, but the Husband is a fool, if he be not a Physitian able enough to cure it.

Fanor, it may be you think I speak against my selfe, and the privi­ledge of my Sex, I protest I doe not: I had two Husbands before I had this, and I never received such contentment in wholly having my will of the one, as I was pleased in being altogether at the others Command: The gracefulnesse of whose rule and government, made my obedience (alwayes Honourable, whilst the necessitated (yet pleasing) encroach­ments over the others right, made me (oftentimes) ashamed of the usur­pation. Wherefore I alwayes pray'd, that if ever I married againe, I might have a Husband that was either a Fool, or a Wise man, that having a Fool, I might know how to order him; and if a Wise man, he may know how to governe me. But by my troth Fanor, I have (now) [Page 67] met with a Man that is neither one or other; wherefore I knew not how to deal with his folly, but by playing the Fool; nor how to answer his share of wisdom but by a piece of policy. Hereupon Company came in, and ended the Dispute.

Thus we leave Honoria a Conqueror by the force of Eloquence, A­marissa prevalent, by the power of her owne wit, both happy by the hand of Providence, and a third climing the degrees of excellence, up the steps ascendent to the throne of ingenuity, and returne back againe to Maximanus; who hearing no newes of his two Women­slayers, nor that any other flesh was to be found in the intended Sham­bles of the Forrest, but the slaughtered Carcasse of one of his owne Butchers, he began to mistrust that all was not well, which he endea­voured to repaire with the greatest of all Evils, viz. Open Rebellion, in order whereunto, he seizes upon all Forts and Magazines, and converts them to his proper use; The affrighted Royalists gather themselves into a necessitated Body, where we leave them both like a paire of Cocks pecking at one another, till a third comes in, and so makes two to one, till one makes none of two, and three brings all to nothing.

CHAP. XII.

LOrenzo fighting without his right hand, Bertaldo, (whom he scorn'd to make use of) was sorely Discom­fited by the Moores; in which Battalle he lost Cos­druball and Hanno, with many others of his prime Commanders, (with 7000. of the Carthaginians) Be­rontus (of all his Heroes) he came off, making good the Rear, until the Defeated Army had recovered a Passe upon the River Undi, whose Bridge Berontus caus'd to be broken downe. For Berontus (as the rest) flying with his Keepers (about him) danger and necessity made him theirs, and his confiners sole preserver: For he made good the Bridge with his owne naked body, (like a black Rock standing in defyance against an Ocean) untill the Pioniers thinking by degrees to fall the Bridge, behind him, ore-threw the Arch; so that all fell downe at once, whose propitious stones, favoured Berontus, doing exe­cution upon his enemies, but none upon himself; from whom he swam safely to his owne bank side, where he found no lesse a Friend to help him up then Lorenzo, who had been more his owne then his Enemy.

Thus the fates ordained, that valour and disaster should agree toge­ther, to necessitate a friendship between these two, when other meanes could not prevail, to cause them to shake hands with one another. So he secured the Prince from further prosecution, and Lorenzo him, from future mis-conception, where Hortensius and Philoret met the Prince: at whose first sight Lorenzo was much divided between the two passions, of Love and Hatred, having seen so much Gallantry in the one, and heard of so much Basenesse in the other, whom he thought (notwithstanding) so much the better of (as to forbear all expressions of dislike for the present) because he saw him coupled with so known a Worthy.

But when hee had once heard them fully declare themselves (with all the Circumstances attested under the hands of so many of his trusty Friends and Counsellours, but especially when he saw and read the Handkerchief) oh how he was nettled and stung to the quick! oh how he was mad with himself for what he had done! and knew not which was better for him to beleeve, or not give credit to what they said: Philoret he could not mis-believe; Hortensius he durst [Page 69] not, whose sufferings, and whose merits, pleaded a better reception; Shame would have forc'd an incredulity upon him, but Honour and Justice made him doubtfull which of either he should entertaine with highest Curtesie; but nothing troubled him so much as what was become of Honoria and Amarissa, and how he should look Bertaldo in the face, for the wrong wherewith he had prosecuted such a noble Friend, and fear'd he had caus'd already to be executed upon his Sister: This made him quite besides himselfe. He sends for Ber­taldo, who entring the presence he thus be-speakes his patience:

Bertaldo,

I feare me I have undone my selfe, I pray thee doe not make any Reply, lest thou prick'st a heart that bleeds too fast already: I have a great many things to tell thee, but I cannot speak: And thereupon he lean'd upon Bertaldo's neck, and wept upon his bosome, saying, Pity me, and be not angry, I will deserve thou shouldst doe both.

Bertaldo (whose eyes were stil upon Philoret, deserv'd by her wishly looks on him) makes him this short answer (longing to parle with his lovely Page) Sir, whatsoever your perplexities may be, I advise you to make haste to Carthage, that you may prevent the mischief, and (if possibly) supersede your Errour.

Oh Bertaldo (said Lorenzo) thou pourest Oyle into my wounds, and tak'st away the smart with that same word. Let there be orders given to march this night, I'le goe my selfe.

Bertaldo lets him goe, that he might stay and commune with his (unknown) Idolatresse; who upon his approach, was so full of joy, that he knew not how to behave himself; whereof Bertaldo took such notice, that he answered his Jollity with asking him twenty Questions one after another; he, his frolick, with answering, he knew not what. At last withdrawing themselves towards a more serious discourse, after that Bertaldo had heard Philoret (deliberately) relate unto him all that had happened, he clapt his hand upon his breast, and abrupt­ly parted from him. Poor Philoret began to be a little dejected at the manner of it, but Bertaldo (recollecting himself) made him amends by giving him a double portion of respect, so that pleas'd he was: Hor­tensius glad that he had struck in with such a Favourite, all the Cour­tiers giving them Cap and Knee, (as they went along) as Courtiers use to doe to those whom they see gratiously received.

No other noise at Court but of removall, no other newes in the Camp but of a present March; six dayes brought them within the sight of Carthage: and the two Armies facing one another, viz. Maximanus and Corderius.

Maximanus his Men (like good stomacks, (having but a propor­tionable allowance) have not (as yet) their Appetites whetted with feare of having too many Feeders upon so small a Pittance: But upon the approach of Lorenzo's Forces, they fall too, putting all their hands together in the Dish (slising it away) for fear of the new commers Mouthes. So was Corderius Army soone devour'd by [Page 70] Maximanus, making such haste to give him Battell before Lorenzo should come to his Assistance. Corderius fled with his scattered Troopes to meet Lorenzo, whom Maximanus durst not pursue too farre (for fear of being met with (by Lorenzo) out of order) Lorenzo wondred first to see two Armies Face, then Fight, and at last Pursue each other. At length satisfied his seeking braine by a full relation of all that had hapned, by Corderius; whose presence, and Commands, soone rallyed the breathlesse Souldiers, whose panting Royall Hearts left their trepidations like the Needle, whose point, when it once findes the northerne Pole, moves no more, then doth the Center: so were these Souldiers calm'd.

Corderius presently applies himselfe to the Prince, and desires that his men might be commanded by Bertaldo's better conduct.

No (said Lorenzo) they shall be commanded by no other then my selfe, and Bertaldo shall command the Army. Which Bertaldo modestly re­fused; but Lorenzo told him, that as nothing would encourage those new-raisd men, and re-inliven them, more then his owne presence; so nothing would be more acceptable to the souldiery then his Conduct. Be­rontus he commanded the Forlorne Hope.

Maximanus by this time (observing the orderly advance of Lorenzo's over-numerous hoast) begins to think his Army all for­lorne, but howsoever he was ambitious, (though the fates had given him a villanous part to act) to act it well; that he might have a glo­rious Exit. His followers for the most part (all desperate and) in­volv'd in the same guilt, were resolved to doe so too; so that there was a fierce battaile fought, between courage and desparation.

Berontus beats their Forlorne, up to their main Body: whereupon he receives orders from Bertaldo, to draw off, and joyne with the Prince, fearing that the Prince (if hard beset) might not be so well defended by his new-rais'd men. Lorenzo because he would not dis­countenance his Confidents, bids him stand as a reserve to his maine Body, which was done accordingly. Maximanus falls on so furiously, that he followes his thrown darts so close, that he comes to handy strokes, fighting under their flying shadowes, but finding that he had mistaken his aime, and that Lorenzo commanded not the party, he gives orders for fresh forces to come up, and bids them under­take those striplings, telling them, he was deceived, and must goe and seeke Lorenzo out, and fight with men of valour.

Opinion (which the world is guided by) made them but striplings in their hands, indeed, for a long time, untill Bertaldo's prowesse taught them how much they were deceived, whilst Maximanus with his men fall upon Lorenzo's, with reduplicated strengths of madd men, bearing downe all before them, till Berontus checkt their fury, with his well-brought-up reserve, and sav'd Lorenzo with the same hand that fell'd the desperate Maximanus to the ground, thereby, so disheartning all the rest, that they soon betook themselves to flight, Bertaldo having done the like unto his Enemies.

[Page 71] Thus whil'st there appeared great serenity in every face, all might behold a Cloud in Lorenzo's countenance; and perceive a war within his breast; occasioned by the last gasping words, which Lorenzo heard Maximanus utter, with his Breath: for Maximanus (lying bleeding upon the ground) desired that he might speake unto Lorenzo before he should expire. Whose words were these.

Unfortunate Lorenzo! Master to a more faithlesse servant! had not thy favours been so great, I had not been so wicked. Honoria was inno­cent of all she was accused, I playd the Knave, and you the Foole: so stretch'd his limbs and dyed.

Lorenzo at first, would have had him (if possibly) preserv'd; but see­ing his hatefull soule had made an escape, he revenged himselfe upon his sencelesse body, vexing himselfe, that it had not life, to answer his indignation with sensibility; never was there such a dying blow given to a Victor: the word Foole, troubled him not so much, as the word Innocent; nor Innocent, so much as the word was, which put him in despaire of her being alive. Never was there such a sad Conqueror as this Lorenzo, whom the Sun beheld, bringing with him night in his Countenance to Carthage, after that he had won the day.

The men were all disbanded, whil'st an Army of unruly thoughts, and cares, mustered within his bosome. Bertaldo (who himselfe al­most over-set with sorrow, yet seeing his so great) beares him up with Comfort, telling him that none can say (for certaine) what is become either of Honoria or Amarissa, none saw them dye: but many eyes have seene one of the intended Executioners, dead in the place of Execution: why might not the Gods protect their Innocence, by unexpected meanes? why should we not hope they did, seeing they were Innocent; and we heare nothing to the contrary? why may not one of these Villaines ap­pointed for the slaughter (mollifyed into gentlenesse, by Honoria's sweet behaviour, and overcome by Amarissa's sprightly Carriage) slay that Brother in evill, and preserve them both himself? It is but early day, I warrant you, you shall hear more hereafter; come, pluck up a good Courage.

Oh (said Lorenzo) I thinke (Bertaldo) thou wilt raise me to life, when I am dead; if this should bee, I will serve the Gods (for ever) with re­duplicated adorations; and I will recompence their sufferings with a thou­sand new-found ways to expiations, whereto, repentance her self yet never found the way; and should but one of those men, doe as thou Imagin'st, I would fill him as full of happinesse, as his Capacity could hold; I would 'twere true Bertaldo, on that Condition that I gave thee Carthage for thy prophecies reward.

Come Sir, reply'd Bertaldo, 'tis neither sorrow, nor Language, nor wishes, nor woulds, that must help us: send out severall waies to hearken after them, I'le seek up towards the Mountaines, let Berontus beat a­bout, towards the Sea-coast, if Sea, or Land, can give us any intelligence, wee'le not be ignorant, what is become of them. They both took their severall wayes for search.

CHAP. XIII.

WHilst these things were in agitation, I shall acquaint you with a pretty passage which hapned between Corderius and Fortunata, Neece, and Woman to a Lady that was call'd Besanca, in his Travailes with Bertaldo, in search of the Ladyes.

You must understand Corderius to have been a Rich Merchant, and an old Batchelour, about the age of Fifty: And one, who for his Wisdome, and Loyalty, was worthily received into Prince Lorenzo his Counsell of State: him, Fortune did begin to frown upon, ha­ving lost certaine Ships at Sea of inestimable value, insomuch that he was unwilling to venture any more substance upon that hazard: and therefore resolved (to withdraw his hand from so cheating a Lot­tery, as Fame (the false Trumpeter of the world) who encouraged so many Adventurers to returne home by Weeping crosse (hearkning to her enticement) and yet could never boast successefulnesse but over a few) and to lead a private life, and to enjoy the remainder of his dayes with such contentment, and true felicity, as the rest of his great Fortunes (that were not loseable by being at stake) would give him leave. The delight was departed from him, wherein he (formerly) re­pos'd felicity, in making Hundreds, Thousands: and Fifties, Hun­dreds: by multiplications of smaller summes. He changed his itching desire, that was in the act of getting, for the true contentment that was to be found in making use of what he had got: And thus he found himself at last by beginning to be a loser.

But all the delights of Eden could not make a Paradise (he thought) without a Companion that should be meet for him. But then he be­gan to think with himselfe, that he had so over-slipt his time, and that he was now grown so Old, that he was scarce meet for a Compa­nion; that his Gray haires were no good reposure upon a Green Bed. And that Nature had made him none of her Favourites, and Age had put him further out of Countenance.

Yet he comforted himself a little (allowing his resolution this Cor­diall) that he was not so wondrous Old, as that he needed to despaire of possessing a Mistresse, with a conceit of sufficient happinesse, in being such an Old mans darling: And that her Poverty (by the meanes of his Riches) would procure in her breast a dispensation for his Silver haires. And that, if he thus took a poor Gentle-woman upon Almes, (though she could not, as yet, love him, yet) she might be glad to have him, and think [Page 73] her self happy (bringing nothing with her but Love) to meet with such a one, though he have nothing else but means to maintain it.

As Corderius did (heretofore) beat about the Country to find out a Virgin that should be thus qualified (being in all his other actions a notable Humorist) viz. Very well borne, Excellently bred, Indiffe­rent Handsome, and Miserably poor, but never could find a similitude to his Fancy that ran upon all (these) Four, before such time as (at­tending upon Bertaldo in this itinerary progression) he met with such a Counter-part to his own indenture, that fitted him, as if occasion had taken measure of his minde. For Corderius and his Horse diffe­ring in termes of ability to Advance; the Rider, (through his Mans default) feeding his dumb Porter with a Spur, instead of Provinder, (what with faintnesse, and the losse of one of his Shooes) the poor Hackny made a Hault all upon a sudden, without staying for the word from his Commander; insomuch that Corderius was by degrees so left behind, that he grew from being out of sight, to be out of hope of overtaking his Companions. Whereupon he set up his rest in a small Village, at the feet of one of the Fessian Mountaines.

This Cavalliers Caball was unwilling to clime, when he could not goe, with a bare Foot, and an empty Belly. Insomuch that poor Cor­derius must be left behind in a poor Inne. High-way accidents must be borne withall, his bad fortune was better'd with this one comfort: his Landlord was a Good fellow, and cheer'd him up, (who find­ing his Host a fit receptacle for discourse that went no higher then a Merry Tale, or so forth) so he drove away the time with making his Host believe, That his Travell was to no other end, or purpose, but what he had a long time sought in vain, viz. such a Mistresse as is be­fore express'd.

The Good man of the House presently answered his intended Mirth with a profferr'd reality of accomplishing his desires. For (said he) here within our Neighbour-hood there is one who is thus and thus Vertuous, so and so Poor, thus highly Borne, so excellently Bred, known by the well-boding name of Fortunata; and if it please you, you shall have a sight of her, and if you can win her, wear her. Corderius began to think, that this savoury dish was not so ready cook'd to his owne pallat without some spice of Divine Providence: Wherefore he resolves to make an assay, and though he be cross'd in finding another mans Wife and Mistresse, yet he hoped he might be blest by a chance medly, where­by for himself (in the same person he may meet with both. Corderius (wa­ving the proffer'd service of his Intelligencer) takes notice of the Name, and Place, with directions of the Way; and pins his instructions upon his Sleeve: And having written a Love-letter, (to the Idea of his minde) he makes himselfe the Bearer; who (having as sufficiently inform'd his Eyes of an apparent truth, as formerly he fill'd his Eares with a true relation) delivers unto Fortunata the most acceptable present of an unfeigned Lover, viz. his owne heart, with his owne hands.

[Page 74] Fortunata (perusing the letter, and observing the contents; and finding no name to it) lookt over her shoulder, to see if there were any that tooke notice of the non-plus she was in, by reason of such an exoticke and ononymous way of writing (as he had framed) and there presented to her owne hands: then she lookes him full in the face, as upon some abusive foot-post that was hired to play the foole with her, and thus she rates him for it.

Fellow, what hast thou brought me here? a paper full of Noune Adjectives without a Substantive? and a letter without a name? what doth he thinke that sent thee, that I am good at explaining Riddles? Madam said Corderius, if you vouchsafe me but the honor to take a turn in the Garden, my businesse is not to Usher you into any of it's Closer walkes: but to such as are within sight, of all the glasse eyes that are in the face of the whole house: and there if you are good at Questions, and Commands, you shall finde me ready with Answers, and Obe­dience.

Fortunata (perceiving his Language to bespeake a mistake in her) condescended to his request, and walkt with him into the Garden, where, as soone as she had brought him, she demanded of him the reason why the letter had no name?

Corderius replyed that it needed not; when his owne hand was to the letter whilst he gave it her. I cannot read your hand said Fortunata. Be pleased to read my heart (said Corderius) in the two folios of my unfeigned lips, which assures you, that I love you, and have loved you long; have travailed a great many Miles, and I have been a suiter to you many Yeares: and though it seems never so strange to you, yet let my words finde credit (for truths sake) and be the happiest Woman in the world.

These words (spoken with such a grace, attended with so much gravity, and proceeding from such a presence) fraught Fortunata not only with wonder, but Confidence; not so much out of the manner, as matter of his discourse; that there was something in it, extraordinary, that promised a reality, and good meaning in the man: wherefore she desired to know his name.

Corderius told her, that she that must be his Wife, must never know that, untill she be so.

Fortunata desired to know what Countryman he was?

Corderius told her, that that was another secret which must not be knowne, and to cut you off from all those ordinary demands of Women in your Condition (said Corderius) Lady you must know, that that Wo­man which carryes my Wives eye in her head, must looke no further then my self: for if I should tell you my name, what Countryman I am, who sent me hither, what meanes I have to Maintaine you, &c. It may be you would, or would not have me, for this, or that respect: wherefore Ma­dam I shall never aske you but these two questions, First, Can you Love? Secondly, Can that Love have any Influence upon my person? I neither thinke my selfe so amiable, or my Condition so inviting, as to deserve the [Page 75] complement of an intire affection: but if you can finde in your heart to Marry me, I aske no more, I'le finde cause enough (for ever) to banish all repentance from your heart: so that reason shall finde no fault in your election. Weigh my words as seriously as you can, I have no ends upon you but what are Honourable, and Just: Portion, I aske none; Propor­tion, and Comelinesse, I see; your Parentage, and Piety, I hear of: And of this you may assure your selfe, had you a Fortune of your owne, able (but) to have bought the Cloathes upon your Back, you could not be my Wife. And one thing more I must tell you, I must have your speedy Answer.

Fortunata thought it not convenient, that her consent should be ob­tained upon the first blush, yet her Colour (as if it went on Errants to her intellectualls, to know the meaning, of so strange (yet effectuall) manner of Wooing, and returning againe into her Cheekes with so fresh a dye, as if it had made hast in it's returne) gave him some pri­vate intelligence, that her faint heart, was ready to yeeld up her Mayden garrison, upon the first summons; but that her modesty mutinyed against its higher officer: and would not suffer so regular fortifications to be so soon sleighted by such a loving Enemy: where­fore, she desired longer time to consider of what he had said, and she would returne him an answer worthy of his respect.

Corderius told her bluntly, it must not be; and that he would nei­ther be beholding for a Wife to time, persons, or second thoughts: and that she was at her owne disposall to chuse a Husband, whose condition was but servitude: And that the ignorance of all worldly respects (that must give him a Wife in Marriage) needed not consideration; and the Poverty that should bring him a Bed-fellow did not deserve the ad­vice of Friends. This was his humour, and that if she would take him upon those termes, Happinesse should be her joynture; Contentment the life she should lead; and Sufficiency, her constant maintenance. More then that, she that is to be his Wife, should never know before she were his; and if she were ordain'd his Spouse, she would be satisfied with that assu­rance.

Fortunata took occasion by the Fore-top, fearing it would be bald behind; and thought it better wisedome to lay hold of an opportu­nity that might advance her, though to an unknown Estate, then to be constantly wedded to even reckonings at the years end: Wherefore she thus resolv'd upon the question.

Sir, whose Name I know not, whose Country I must not know, whose Estate, is, I know not what, who means to carry me I know not where, I am yours I know not how. And with that word, Corderius opening his Armes to receive her into his Bosome, Fortunata falls upon his Breast; and (weeping) clings so close unto him, as if a bleeding Vine had been tackt unto some stately Frontispice, whose teares Corderius soone wip'd off, (drying her Bedewed cheeks) with this breath of comfort: Lady, if you knew your owne happinesse, you should finde you have no cause for what you doe, except you wept for joy.

[Page 76] Fortunata (having fully consented that Corderius should break a Bridall Cake over her head) hastens to her Lady-Aunt, and Mi­stresse; and with a clear'd up countenance, tels her, That she is come to take her leave of her.

Madam, I hope not (said Fortunata) I'le have him, and if it please the fates, if there were no more men in the world.

The Girle is bewitcht upon my life (said Besanca) what hath he done to her? where is this fellow? let me speak with him. Away she flies upon Corderius, and in furious manner begins to expostulate the case with him, whose pretty kind of answers no lesse satisfied the Lady, then (with much probability) that her Neece was likely to clime up to some preferment, through some fantasticall Stair-case. Wherefore after many doubts resolved, she gives consent (with this proviso) that Fa­vorinus, her own Brother, should go along with her, (together with a servant of the Ladies, call'd Prickette, who should see them marryed, (for he was resolv'd to carry her away with him presently, she, as re­solute to be gon) up he takes her behind him on Horse-back, without any more circumstance. He is a Prince, and his Humour must be obey'd. Farewell Aunt: God b'y Cosen. Look to your Sister (said Be­sanca.) I warrant you (said Corderius) all shall be well enough, take you no care. They shake hands at one another, and cry Da, Da; and this was all the solemnity of their departure.

They had not advanced seven miles onward in their journey, but they lost their way: and the night overtaking them, they were be­wildred in a Forrest; at last they met with a Forresteer, who brought them to a poore Inne, where they were glad to set up their rest for that night, where there were but two spare Beds for three persons: who all three willingly would have layne by themselves, but Cor­derius, and Favorinus were contented for one night, to make a hard shift together; but Prickette was to shift for himself.

When Fortunata (with as much civility as the place would (then) give leave) was attended to her Chamber, (rites being done that were required by the Lawes of Curtesie) Corderius and Favorinus, re­freshed themselves (after Supper) with better entertainment, then they [Page 77] imagined the house had afforded, viz. a Cup of old Briske Corisca Wine: which had been transported out of Italy: Prickette having lickt his lips sufficiently of some of the Wine, (whilst he attended upon his Masters) when they were gone to Bed, at once he inflames both the reckoning, and himselfe, with too many haires of the old dog; the good woman of the house (to egge him on to further expences) made him beleeve, that he should have a Bed, (or else it should go hard with her) and rather then he should be destitute of a lodging, that she and her Husband would sit up all night.

Prickette grew from being overcome with kindnesse, to be so much overcome with drink, that he could neither goe, nor stand, nor see, nor speak: wherefore mine Host, and his Wife (perceiving him to be but a Dumpling, a thick short chub, or lump of Flesh, not above three Horse-loaves high; and considering the condition he was in) chang'd their resolution (having found out a new invention for him) up they carryed him to the top of the house by maine strength, where in the Cock-loft there was a Childs Cradle made of boards; and having made him a Bed therein of a Bolster, and laid on two short Towels, instead of a paire of Sheetes; and their Daughters Bone-lace Cushion instead of a Pillow, with two old Petticoates: for a Rug and Blanket; they stript off his cloathes, and laid him in this bed, with a childs Rattle stuck in at one of the sides to keep up the cloathes, which the Host, (as merrily dispos'd as his Wife) observ'd, and said unto her, Nay Wife, if thou stick'st up a Rattle on one side, I'le hang up the Bladder with the three blew Beanes on the other, (setting a Chamber­pot very orderly by his Bed side that was half full already) and there they left him.

Prickette (lying with his Legs crumpting up (for want of roome) not being used to be abridg'd of his full length) chanc'd (in his sleep) to be so sensible of his disease, that he thrust out his Legs halfe way over the edge of the foot boord, and so he lay for the most part of the night, untill such time, as (being awaked with the paine, which had got into the small of his legs, and the cold that had struck into the soales of his feet) he pull'd in his stumps) like a pair of touch'd Snails horns) so that he lay at pretty ease for a while, untill such time as his over-strech'd, and ful-fill'd Bladder call'd upon him for a reme­dy by evacuation: Prickette reaches one of his armes over the sup­posed bed side to search for a Chamber-pot, whilst the Cradle rowles (which, together with the turning of his unsetled Brain, caused his fancy to imagine) as if he had been falling down the precipice of some huge Mountaine; and the motion of the small Pebles within the Rattle, and the Beanes within the Bladder, caused his imagination to conceive so many loose stones falling out of their places; and his fingers (by reason of the swag of the Cradle) dashing upon the sur­face of the lake that was in the unemptied vessell, the poor innocent verily believ'd, that he had popt his hand into some bottomlesse River. Prickette endeavouring to recover himselfe up againe, gives [Page 78] such a spring, that it was twenty to one, but on the contrary side, the cradle had come over, and over: but there happened a greater mis­chance then all this, and a more cause of terror: for the Cat, lying asleep upon the ground, on the other side of the cradle, one of the theorbo's underneath it, pressed so hard upon the Cats tayle, that (Prickette having no other meanes to save himself from that over­throw but the use of his other arme) the asperous vermine, sets all the venemous nailes that were upon all four, (together with both rowes of the pointed needles within her jawes) into his trembling flesh: making such a hideous out-cry, that all the hags and furies, (nimphs to the Stygean lakes) could never have given so fierce an alarum to the poore mans quarters, as that had done.

Prickette all amazed lyes for a long time rocked by Counter-poises; untill experience (at last) having taught him the art of ordering his maine body in full quietnesse; selfe-security, had made him so cau­tious, that he began to be very wary, of what side of his mouth he car­ryed his tongue, for a long time he lay still, (wondering where he was, what he was in, & how he came there) at last an Asse, a creature (whose voice (of all others) he never had been accustomed unto) brayed, just under his window: which hideous noise, he tooke to be no other, then the Divels language: whereat (forgetting all his former terrors) he gave such a spring (out of the Cradle) as if he had a minde to have leaped out of his Skinne, rather then out of Bed, and came to ground sooner, by forty fathomes falling, then he did expect. Up he gets up­on his feet, thinking himselfe well enough yet, but knew not how long it would continue; he orders his steps, with expectations of such ruggednesse, and fear of precipices, that the evennesse of the floore, oft-times became his stumbling block; at length he became Master of his senses, though he knew not how to imploy his Servants: for he had no light, and could hear no noise, only he groaped for understan­ding, and found sufficient in the darke, to informe his recollected Spirits, that he was in some lodging within the Inne; but he verily believed it was an Inchanted Chamber: wherefore he made all the hast out of it, that he could, and spred his fingers upon the Wall sides, as if he had been playing upon the Virginalls; at last he found the door: which being but latch'd, he easily opened, and descends the stayres: but whither they led, he knew not: neither did he care, so that they gave way for his removall from the place wherein he was.

At last he stumbled against Fortunata her door; bounce goes his head and shoulders against the Wainscot: Fortunata (awaked with the noise) wakens all the house, with Crying Theeves, Theeves: Brother rise: call up the Gentleman: where are you? Knocks with her Bed­staffe upon the boords, and throws it against the wall.

Corderius starts out of his Bed, and calls for Candles: Favorinus flyes from his nest, and drawes his sword: up comes the good man and Wife, with lights in their hands, all were sore amaz'd, and [Page 79] Prickette most of all: whom they all found sneaking by the Gentle­womans door. What dost thou here? (said Corderius) Sirrah, whats the matter? (said Favorinus) what wouldst thou have? I would have no­thing (said Prickette) but quietnesse: quietnesse with a pox to you, (said Corderius) what dost thou doe up at this time of night? Indeed if you would know the truth out (said Prickette) the Bed was too short for me, I could not sleep. Whereupon they all fell into such a laughter, (in fancying what kind of bed that must needs be, that should be too short for him) as put the good Gentlewoman, out of the fright she was in: but nothing could moderate the fit of laughter, that the good man and woman of the house had set up (knowing how they had served him) back they returned to their Chamber, and put on their cloathes: by which time the day did break upon them: And as soon as For­tunata was up and ready, in they come, and bring Prickette to answer for himselfe, telling her the manner, and forme, how they found him at her Chamber door; she them, that she knew not what to make of it, but that Prickette intended a forcible entry.

Prickette declared to the world, that he intended no hurt, neither that he knew whither he was going, onely he had a mind to rise, and come downe the staires, because he could not sleep in his bed, it was so short for him.

And what meant you (said Fortunata) by bustling at my door? Did you think my bed would be longer for you?

No Madam (said Prickette) I stumbled against the threshold, and hit my head against the door, that was it that made such a noise.

For Heavens sake (said Fortunata) let us goe see this bed that is so short for him. The people of the house were sent for up to shew them this sight, (for Prickette could not tell where it was) when the Land­lord, and the Landlady were sent for, and understood their pleasure, they so fell into their old fits of laughter, that for a long time they could not speak a word, but hold their sides; and as their breath would give them leave, out comes a Cradle, by and by the Rattle, then the Bladder; neither were they more fill'd with Laughter, then Prickette was with Wrath all the while: who having lost all pa­tience, curses them to the pit of Hell, swearing, That he lay in no Cradle; neither did he know what they meant by Rattles, or Bladders: a couple of base unmannerly people they were, and so they shew'd them­selves. The Gentles were prickt forwards (by the two spurs of such extreams) Mirth, and Madnesse, to informe themselves of the true cause of both. Up they all went to the Cock-loft, where they found the Cradle, the Rattle, the Bladder, the Bed and Bolster, the sheets, the Coverlet and Blanket; the humour was so good that they all fell in­to such an universall fit of laughing, that Prickette (himselfe) was not an exception in that generall rule, who by that time (being as merrily dispos'd as the rest) made up the Story with telling them the conceit of his falling down into a River, the removall of the loose Stones, the disaster he received by the Cat (shewing them the scratchings, and [Page 80] bitings, upon his hand) the fright that the Braying of the Asse had put him into, in manner and forme as is before express'd, which was Mirth enough for all that day, and the next following; wherewith, (together with diverse other Sports, and Pastimes, that Prickette made on the way) they thus merrily arriv'd at Carthage.

Whose walls they had no sooner entred, but Corderius seekes an obscure lodging where he might be least known; and delivers into Fortunata's hands a purse of Gold, intreating her Brother Favorinus, to accompany his Sister to the Burse, where she might furnish her selfe with such necessaries (of all sorts) as were expedient for her use, and suitable to the occasion, whilst he went and bought materialls for her Wedding Garments; and provided her such a necessary instrument (to her minde) as should take measure of her body, and fit each severall dimen­sion. Both parties ingage according to their designes, and Corderius comes back fraught with cloth of Gold and Silver, as the returne of his Adventure. But Fortunata was so sparing in exhausting the Well (the liberality of whose spring she was so ignorant) that (her modesty was such) she would not purchase those additaments to grace an Ornament, at a higher rate, then the darknesse of her condition, and the obscurity of her lodging would speak as commendable: which, when Corderius did behold, he wrapt them up in a bundle, and bestow'd them upon Ribana (her new recommended Chamber­maide) saying, He would rigge up his smallest Pinace with farre better tackling; but his Vice-Admirall, Fortunata, her top, deserv'd more Gallantry. And forthwith led her to the place where she might exchange her Money for the Choicest necessaries: And there left her to be attended to her Lodging by Favorinus, and her two servants, Prickette, and Rivana, whilst he takes the nearest way that brought him to the Court, where he presents his service to the Prince, and acquaints his highnesse with the manner how he lost his Company: But losing them, he partly found what he look'd for, thereby he lighted upon certaine intelligence, that gave him a relation how that Honoria and Amarissa were alive; and that by all Circumstances it could be no other but them two, whom report gave out to have taken Shipping at the Bay of Duno; departing there with as favourable a wind, as they had been driven a Ship board, by the stormes of persecutions: And that he would pawne his life that he should suddenly hear good tydings of them.

Lorenzo was so transported with joy, and his minde elevated by hope, seeing so much Confidence proceeded from so serious a man, that he vow'd one minute should not passe, longer then the time required, for drawing up his patent, but that he would signe him one of his No­bles: which was done accordingly. So that back comes Corderius to his Mistresse, with a Lordship on his back, before he had lay'd out any riches upon his clothes: but she must not know any thing yet. But now the time is come that high fancy must delight it selfe in the tri­umph of humility, and that a conjuncture betweene faith and hope [Page 81] must be made with charity. Corderius (as glorious as the Sunne) hands Fortunata (eclipsing Cinthia in her greatests majesty) to the place of Union.

But Fortunata could not but wonder that no friend of his appeared to solemnize their wedding, and not so much as a dinner provided, and that no other (or more) witnesses, were prepared, for the cere­mony, then the good man of the house, and his wife, with their children at their heels, and a few meane and homely servants; she could not but admire that his compleatnesse in all other respects, should want the correspondent of a Chariot; but that her wedding-garment should be a golden besome, to sweep the dust in the streets, untill it arose in their faces, as if it had a minde to tell them, what they were; but she that had consented to marry him in a humour, was contented with the humour of his Marriage: and comming within the consecrated walls, standing upon holy ground, thy plighted their trothes to one an other, by the ministration of the sacred hands of him, whom holy Order had set apart (as cleane) to the performance of those Rites and Ceremonies: Thus (tyed in a true loves knot) hand in hand they tooke their leaves of the holy man, and the place of holinesse: and were no sooner entred the Porch, but they might behold the most magnificent Charriot that could be carried upon wheels, and the bravest horses, that ere were fastned to a pole; with a Charioteer, and footmen, belonging thereunto, all in the same livery, which promised Majestie, rather then nobility to be in the owner, Corderius took occasioned to stand and gaze a while upon so faire an object: at last, he asked his bride how she liked that Cha­riot? who having run division upon the severall Sumptuosities be­longing thereunto, and praised the goodlinesse that she had (worthily) spied in the horses, and commended the Colour, and trimming of the livery: she warranted that they belonged to some great man, and won­dred whose they were. Corderius told her that she should know that presently, and asking the Charioteer (who had his lesson given him) whose Chariot that was? he made answer (with much reverence) that it was the Lady Fortunata her Chariot, Wife to the Lord Corderius. Madam (said Corderius) I cry you mercy, it is your Charriot, I pray will you ascend it, and take me with you. Fortunata hung back and blushed, like the rednesse of the morn, that betokened a more pro­sperous winde, then what should need, to fill her sayles: but all this would not help her no otherwise then sooner up, where she might take possession of her owne; where she sits not so much elated in her owne minde, as depressed under the burthen of her oppression of the great danger that is in over-merit.

The well-manag'd horses pride it along the streets, with the new­made-happy payre, untill they rested at the doore of Corderius his proud building: whereat were standing all his friends and kindred, to welcome the bride to the well-furnished habitation which she was bid to call her owne; and all within it, hers: feasting and mu­sick, [Page 82] and dancing, had no sooner begun to outweare the day, but Corderius commanded foure other Horses that wore the same natu­rall coloured livery on their backs, to be added to the former paire; and invited his Fortunata to take the ayre, and notice of a Country-house, that had a Bed to bid her welcome to, and a Tenant to be her Bedfellow.

Fortunata sigh'd, and said unto Corderius, Sir, you know in what a poore condition you found me, and I see, into what an ocean of felicity you have lanch'd so meane, and weake a vessell, as my selfe: spare your pro­secution of me with further favours, till I have digested these; for, one may be as well overwhelm'd with too much joy, as blinded with too much light.

But Corderius (like those Women who will never be married to any Man till they have seen him once in Drinke) was resolved, never to let her rest from receiving expressions upon expressions of Affe­ction, till he saw her thoroughly intoxicated with kindnesse, that he might see what humour she was in; wherefore a whole row of Coa­ches attended the Bride and Bridegroome to Mount-pleasant, which was the name of his Country-house: where he had no sooner lighted, and entred the House, but he caused the Lawyers to produce the Wri­tings, where (in the presence of Favorinus and many other substantial Witnesses) he made that House (with ten thousand Crownes per an­num thereunto belonging, by sealing and subscribing thereunto) her Joynture, and delivered the Deed unto Favorinus, her Brother, to be kept to her use.

Fortunata was astonished with admiration, and so overcome with kindnesse, that she could not speake one word. This dumb oratory pleas'd his fansie beyond the expression of any eloquence; and which of the two were ravish'd with greater delight (he to see his de­signe take so well; or she, to finde her hopes so farre out-gone by re­alities) is hard to imagine.

At length he invites them all into his Garden (the delightful'st of any that ever she had seen) and askt her, how she lik'd it?

Who answered him, how could a poore Woman be otherwise than pleas'd, to be taken out of an Almes-house, and made the Mistresse of a Palace, and Lady of such a Manour? And with those words, she be­gan to water the Garden, with her teares: and drew him aside into the next Arbour, where her (minde by the benefit of that little vent) powred forth a resentment of her sad condition through want of merit, answerable to his benignity.

Which being perform'd with so much sweetnesse, and ingenuity, he removes the weight that lay so heavy on her heart, with this assu­rance, that there was that thing, within her power, to grant, that if he could be but so happy as to obtaine it at her hands (and it was but what was just and honourable) it would (in equall ballance) outweigh all his benefits.

Then Sir (said Fortunata) be sure it shall be granted; and you happy: what is it, good my Lord?

[Page 83] You shall know (said Corderius) in due time, in the interim I make it part of my request unto you, that you will rest satisfied till you hear fur­ther.

In fine, time hath out-gone the day, and the well-spent-time of night calls upon the new-married Couple to haste to Bed:in Bed they are, the Bride-chamber clear'd; which was no sooner perform'd, but Corderius conjures her by all the Love she thought was due to him, to tell him, whether or no she thought her self happy at that instant?

Fortunata, (after some pause) told him, That she thought her self the happiest woman in the world, if she had where withall (in her self) to answer that felicity. For she thought there could be no true happinesse where permutation of desert was wanting.

Why then (said Corderius) Fortunata, know, that thou art miserable, but thou mayst be happy; and both these contrary qualities lie within thy power to sowre or sweeten thy whole life withall.

Let me know it quickly then (said Fortunata) and I shall not be long a chusing.

Then thus it is (reply'd Corderius.)

When I was a young man, and first went out to Sea, as an Adventurer, we suffered Ship wrack: all but my selfe were drown'd, and I preserv'd by a miraculous accident; all but the very top of the main Mast were swallowed up in the Quick-sands, and devouring Seas; up to which top I got, and seeing no hopes of life, but a terrour spread before mine eyes, as broad as the Horison, I vow'd unto the Gods, that if they would ma­nifest their power in my preservation, I would answer the mercy of their deliverance, with the most Holinesse of life, and Integrity of living, that lay in the utmost endeavours of a Mortall creature: In order whereunto, I vow'd Virginity for ever. I scarce had ended my Prayers and Fowes to the Almighty, but through the salt water of mine eyes, I could behold (riding upon the Maine) afaire and stately Ship making towards me, which (approaching nearer and nearer to me) at last tooke me up: And I have kept my promise hitherto, and must keep it to my grave: I have done all the good that lay in my power; I have been a Father to the Fa­therlesse, a Husband to many a Widow: I have helped many to their Right, that suffered Wrong; the Divine providence hath made me an Instrument in doing many good Offices; but especially, I glory in being a meanes whereby the chaste Honoria, and deserving Amarissa, were not by the Tyrant brought to Triall; and by which meanes (I hope) she is preserved; yet I saw no reason why I might not Marry, if I could meet with one that would be partner with me in my Vow: I saw no reason why two might not enjoy the freedomes and familiarities that are between Man and Wife, onely as they are divine and rationall Creatures: that is, to contemplate the Deity, and goodnesse of the Gods; to joy in one anothers company, to discourse together, to embrace, to seal to such payres of indentures, as the Cockles shall not be more just in their re­joyndure, to make such impressions on those depressed supplements, which the Bee's-wax for soft, or sweetnesse, or the red for colour, is not compa­rable; [Page 84] to fall asleep by such a vestall fire, that nere goes out, and never burnes; to recover our selves (so often) from being so many times the images of Death, and finde so many lives renu'd, by loves assurance of its immortality; leaving that other consideration to those Sensitives that have not understanding: thy consent to this, O Fortunata, would cause me no lesse to adore thee as divine, than keep me (still) in favour with the Gods: all those steps of honour to which I have advanc'd thee so many degrees above thy selfe, were but engagements to thy complacence herein. Now am I to expect my doome, or such a returne of my adventures, that uncovered rocks of Diamonds, or the messeraick and big swolne veines of the earths golden oare, wide opened, could not afford me more content­ment or requitall for all my obligations.

Fortunata (having heard him all the while with an attentive eare) whose consentig heart (as if its pantings had kept time to the musick that he made) answered:

My ever honoured Lord, more to be esteem'd for this, than all the me­rit that lies within the power of Man to prosecute an ingagement: Now (and never till this time, doe I find my self in a (possibility of being hap­py or) way of answering, all those accumulations of benignities, with a power of recompence: you have my full consent herein, and could you read my heart, you'ld finde it all compos'd with nothing else but so many Amens to every word you have said: why did you make so great a doubt of my Consentment? what can more resemble the coelestiall fires than when flames doe meet, without the smutty contagion of bituminous mate­rialls? that love, that's set on fire, by combustibilities, which fowle the hands of their owne Makers, have no other flames but burning smoake, which vanisheth with the death of its owne parents; whilst the love that Corderius talks of, and is here confirm'd, by me by an act of participa­tion to thy vowes for ever (so pleasing to the gods) seems to be so immor­tall, as if (Promethean like) we had stolne fire from heaven to burne an everlasting sacrifice; No, Corderius rest satisfied (if this be all) that the worlds variety could never have fitted your humour so well as Fortunata shall.

Then (said Corderius) I am happy indeed.

So am I, said Fortunata.

Both cry'd, Both of us are blest in one another. Both slept in one an­others armes, whilst Aminda's Genius (for Honoria her sake) be­stowes this SONG upon them:

CHAP. XIV.

PRickette having been an earnest Suiter to Rivana for her good-will: at last he obtain'd his desires, to Marry her; but, before the time appointed, they had agreed to be anticipatious in the businesse, and too too forward in giving one another benevolences, before they were due: for the effecting whereof, time and place were appointed: Ri­vana was the first Champion that appeared in the field. Prickette met with some good Fellowes by the way, that foreslow'd his march, and retarded his appearance to the Court of Venus.

Rivana and her Hostesse (having given him over for a lost man) were once resolv'd to wait his leisure no longer; but Rivana (some­thing more confident of his performance than the other) was willing to spinne out a little more time, and busies her self in making a Sack-posset against his comming: the Posset was made, but no Prickette; patience was quite worne out, and expectation began to be out of sea­son: wherefore Rivana takes the Sack-posset, and sets it upon the cubberds head, and covers it with a trencher and napkin, and sets the candle by it, takes her leave of her Hostesse, and prepares her selfe for bed, putting the dore onely too, for feare her Sweet-heart should finde any difficulty in his approach, if he should happen to come late, or she, disturb'd to let him in, if it should be lockt, or bolted: late brought all to bed, that were in the House.

Now you must understand, that in the evening, before this hapned, that a Bearward had brought three lusty Beares to towne, and had taken up quarters for them in the same Inne, lodging them in a little Stable that happened to be just underneath the Chamber where Prickette and Rivana had intended to be very superlative in the de­grees of happinesse.

But it hapned that Rivana was no sooner got into her bed, but one of the great Beares, senting the steame of the Posset, broke loose, and hapned to pull downe a whole pane in the wall, that opened at the foot of the stair-case, that led up to Rivana's lodgings: up staires climbs the Beare; Rivana, hearing somebody comming up, was in good hope it had been her Sweet-heart, though she thought the party came up somewhat heavily, and trode (though not more gently, yet) more softly then Prickette was wont to doe; which she conjectured to be, because (it may be) he was in the darke, and had no body to light him up the stayres: and it would be otherwise as soone as he [Page 87] should come into the light. [ENTER BEARE.—] Rivana (perceiving so ugly a creature comming in upon all four, winding with his Nose, and twinckling with his Eyes) she sinkes down into her Bed, and falls a praying, but durst not cry out, for fear she should give the Devouring creature notice of her being there: But Teares, which had so little way to fall, and fell so softly, and trembling, that could make no noise upon a bed of Down, she makes use of sufficiently, to expresse the wofulnesse of her condition, and the greatnesse of her feare; which was presently augmented and multi­plied upon her, like numbers in Arithmetick: for the Bear, (senting the posset) rises up an-end, and with his fore pawes, rests upon the Cubberd, and nuzzles the trencher that covered the Posset off of the Goblet; and thrusting his snout into the hot-kept-liquour, he so burnt his nose, that he made a most fearfull noise; and endeavouring to leap downe, his Nailes so stuck in the Cubberd-cloath, that down comes the Sack Posset about his Ears, the Candle into his Eyes; which the melted tallow, (together with the hot Liquor) had so got into, and made them so smart, that it caus'd him to Roar, as if all the Devills in Hell had been in the roome: All this while the Bears Clawes were not dis-ingaged from the Cubberd-cloath, nor the Cloath from what it covered; so that at last (with the Beares striving) downes comes the great Canopied-cubberd, and all upon the Bear, so that the Bear began to be worse afraid, and more hurt, then the terrified Ri­vana, who labouring to dis-ingage himselfe from the weight that was upon him, (the Candle all this while lying upon the ground, still blazing) the Bear (at last) intch'd and intch'd so near unto the flame, that it set all the haire upon the Beares back on Fire; whereat the Beare set out a wider throat then all the Baitings that ever he had, could force him to: Rivana (hearing a great deal of noise besides what the Bear made, and received no hurt as yet) thought that some body had come in unto her rescue, as was ordering the Bear, and that the Bear Roar'd so by reason of some correction; wherefore she took the boldnesse to peep out of the Bed, to see whether it was so, or not: but when she perceived a thing all on Fire, and another thing over it, stirring up and downe the roome, she began to be afraid of the Devill worse than of the Bear: wherefore she flings the Cloathes over her head again, and falls to making Vowes, That if ever she were delivered from that just Judgement, that was upon her for that unlaw­full Assembly, she would never violate the old Lawes and Customes of her devout Ancestors by such deeds of Anticipation. Whereupon the Beare (dis-ingag'd of his Toyle) left Roaring; the Candle and the Hair went out, all was quiet; the Bear fell to licking up his Posset all about the roome; but there hapned to be so much Sack in the Posset, (to which the Bear had not been accustomed) that his Braines were in­toxicated; who (wanting a place to repose his giddy brain) skip-frogs up upon the Bed, and layes him selfe downe halfe on, and halfe off the miserable Rivana. The Bearward (hearing the noise) was rising [Page 88] out of his bed, to know the cause of their unrulinesse; but perceiving them to be quiet, went to bed againe.

By this time Prickette knocks at the dore; the old Woman aketh, Who's there? Prickette cryes, 'tis I. Who are you? (said the Hostesse) 'tis I, Prickette, don't you know my voice? you know my businesse well enough. 'Tis you? (said the Hostesse) is this a time anight? well, I come: she slips an old Petticoate over her shoulders, and comes to the dore, and lets him in, telling him, that he was a fine man (indeed) to have a Sweet-heart! if she were as she, she would make him stay the good houre, and if there were a yeare to the end out.

Well, well, (said Prickette) get you to bed, trouble not your selfe: where is she? is she in the Chamber I bespoke? I, I, she's there (said the Ho­stesse) can you find the way in the darke? there is a light in the Chamber, and a Sack-posset provided for you: O! you are a sweet Youth y-faith, y-faith, she is but too good for you.

Good night, good night old Woman, (said Prickette) you prate you know not what; too good for me! who is too good for me?

Up the staires comes Prickette, and finds the dore open; but seeing no light in the Chamber, he askes her, What are you in darknesse? he had not advanced three steps into the roome, but what with the slipperinesse of the boords, by reason of the Sack-posset, and the licking of the Beares tongue, downe comes Prickette all along; up againe he gets upon his leggs, but had not made one step nearer the bed, but over the cubberd comes poore Prickette, hurts his hands, and breaks his elbowes; lyes still awhile, and askes, Where am I? what have we here? what's here to doe?

Rivana heard a Man's voice, but was afraid there had been another Beare: at last he gets up, and was resolv'd to order his steps more warily; at length he layes hold upon one of the Bed-posts, then he thought himselfe safe enough, and that he had her sure; when behold! opening his armes to imbrace his beloved, and his mouth, to bestow this pleasing language upon her, viz: Ah my Sweet-heart! I hope thou wilt not be angry with me for staying so long; in troth I could not help it: and therewith falling downe upon the Bed, to take his Mistresse in his armes, he imbraced the Beare; who being awaked with his kindnesse, roar'd him forth such a Curtaine-lecture, as I thinke never any such Delinquent was so miserably serv'd before. Prickette recoiles, forsa­king his station with such violence as the rocks and stones doe use to make when they are moved out of their places, when hell finds out a new mouth, by some eruption, out of the earth: so that (forgetting his stumbling block, that lay in his way) he breaks his shins against the cubberd, and over and over he tumbles, being most miserably tor­mented; in which agony (knowing not what he did) mistaking his way in the darke at the bottome of the staires, in stead of going out at the dore, he runs into the broken place in the wall that the Beare had made, and so stumbles upon the other two: [BA-A] cryes one of the Beares: [BA-A, BA-A] cryes the other two. Prickette (imagining no [Page 89] lesse but that flying from one, he had falne into hell, amongst all the Devils, scrambles (he knew not how) from between them, and so got loose from both, and recovers his feet, but durst not make any other use of them than standing upon them: so unfortunate had his motion been unto him of late, that still he ran into further mischief, till at last the Beares unrulinesse made him venture farther off the danger; so that he got close to the manger, then he knew where he was; up he gets into it, and (for his greater security sake) climbs up into the rack. The Bearward (hearing a second alarum, riseth) out of his bed, and came to see what was the matter, where he soone espied one of his Beares missing, and the wall broke downe, where she had got out, presently he raises the house, saying, He was undone, one of his Beares was broken loose, and was got away. Up they all rise, un­chaine the Doggs, search for the Beare, enter the Stable, see where the Beare broke out; which whilst they were viewing they could heare a voice from the rack-side, saying, Doe you heare, doe you heare, I know where your Beare is with a pox to you: They look'd up, and spied Prickette amongst the rack staves: They askt him, Where? where I pray now? Where (saies Prickette) I know where well enough, but looke that your Beares be safe and I'le come downe and shew you. They securing him from all danger, he descends from his pallisadoes, and directs them up into his Mistresse's Chamber, giving the Bear­ward, and the Dogs leave to goe before him; who find the Beare fast asleep in Prickette his place; so that with much convenience, they got the string into the ring, and pull'd the Beare from off the Bed. Prickette turning down the bed to see what was become of his Sweet­heart, there ascended such a wreake of bak'd, and boyl'd, and stew'd, and roast-meat, that his stomach was quite turn'd; so that he had no appetite to his former dainties. She cryes out to him, Prickette, be­gone; get thee hence, thou comest not neer me: I will have nothing to doe with thee, e'ne stay the time. So they both concluded to wait the leisure when unlawfulnesse should be lesse attended with so heavy judgments, and Prickette departed with the Beare, Dogs, and Bear­ward out of the roome to seeke another lodging.

CHAP. XV.

NOw we must returne to Lorenzo, who all this while re­main'd (you will say) in a very sad condition, when a Prince in his owne Court shall hunt for favourable looks from his owne Subjects, and finde ne'r a one; for, all the Courtiers beheld him, with such sullen a­spects, as if Saturne at that time, had animated the Court, with one surly Genius; so great power had the force of ju­stice over the instruments of iniquity, whom we must also leave (as soone as we have lookt upon) in his melancholly dumps to bring back the fortunate Berontus in his happy adventures; for, he had scarce reacht within three leagues of the Sea-shore, but he met with Navigius the Sea-man, who had been the Preserver of both the La­dyes, who (having not wit enough to believe that the surplusage of his merit, exceeded the offensivenesse of his default) upon the approach of so Courtly Gallants (hearing the Rumours that had spread about the Countrey concerning Lorenzo's Conquest, and Maximanus's Death) was afraid of every Butterflies being a Courtier, making in­quisition for Honoria and Amarissa, or after any one that had but a hand in that Delinquency; for which reasons he thought himselfe no small Foole, and that (he thought) he knew not how to answer the sale of such Commodities; so that he lookt so gastly, shooke so fearfully, and stood so amaz'd in every respect, that Berontus could not but take speciall notice of him: Wherefore he askt him, What ayl'st thou Fel­low? and finding him speechlesse, he thought some extraordinary matter, to be the occasion, of that extasie; and considering the bu­sinesse he went about, he thought it worthy of his farther inquiry: wherefore, he caused one of his Attendants, to take him up behind him, and bring him along with him to the next resting place: The Fellow, (thinking, that he had been carried all this while to hanging, (still measuring the 'depth of their science by the guilt of his owne conscience) as soone as ever he was brought to Examination, he cry'd out, Oh Master! save but my life, and I will tell you all.

Berontus reply'd, answer me but to one Question and thou shalt not die, Is Honoria living? or canst thou tell what is become of her?

Navigius answered, she is alive, and well.

And Amarissa too? reply'd Berontus.

She's well, and lusty, (said Navigius.)

[Page 91] What is become of them? (said Berontus.)

Navigius told him all the Passages of the whole story as was be­fore related.

Whereat Berontus was so overjoy'd that he hugg'd him in his armes, bidding him not to be afraid of any thing, since they were living; tel­ling him, that his merit, in their preservation, was so great, that small faults would not be lookt upon: Both (overjoy'd) made haste to Car­thage, where the night before these glad tidings were brought to Court: Lorenzo (not thinking himselfe worthy of the Attendance that pull'd off his Shooes as he went to bed) was no sooner in bed, but he was saluted with Amynda's Genius with these glad tidings:

Lorenzo starts upright in his bed, and cryes out, Oh Amynda! stay awhile; stay I pray thee good Amynda, be not inexorable: what wouldst thou have me to speake? and I vow Obedience to thy Commands; I will not swerve a tittle from thy precepts, give me Honoria and com­mand my life.

Amynda being overcome with his remorse, and full intentions of amendment, answers his desires.

Lorenzo falls into a sweet sleep, untill the morning-watch awak'd him with their answerings to Berontus his importunities of opening the Gates; who was so transported with his fraught, that he thought it much, that wood, and iron, should make his lading dance atten­dance.

Lorenzo thus awakt, and remembring the good tidings overnight, he thought they were so good, that he began to be afraid they were [Page 92] too good to be true. Thus the Devill, after we have overcome all his temptations, throwes his last Dart, and seekes to poyson us with infidelity, like the Ship that hath escaped so great Enemies, and so many Shipwracks, at last perishes in the Harbour.

But whilst he was in this great danger, by reason of so many Rocks and Shelves: Berontus (like a good Pilot, comes to guide him safely into the Harbour) at whose first sight, Lorenzo reades comfort in his lookes; and askes him if he has heard of his Honoria, (anticipa­ting his relation with his confidence) in these words:

I know, that if thou hadst not brought good Newes, thou woulst not have return'd so soone.

Berontus taking Nagivius by the hand, from point to point, tells him the full relation of the whole, as hath been before express'd: Which, when Lorenzo had heard throughout, he knew not whether he should acknowledg himself more beholding to the Hand, or to the Instrument, that made such musick to his Eares: he showr'd down obligations upon Berontus, as upon a Favourite that was capable of receiving those acts of Grace: But when he came to expresse his af­fection to Navigius, he found him so unsusceptable, that he could not love him otherwise, then with the Love wherewith fond Ladies use to be in love with their Lap-dogs, whose over-gladnesse at small favours, make their Mistresses sorry that they are not rationall crea­tures, whereby they may be more capable of further benefits. Both in their kind were fully satisfied, the one with princely lan­guage; the other with spitting a few acknowledgments in his mouth, which the one received with due reverence, and good behaviour; the other with so many scrapes of his feet, and wagging of his tail.

All the Palace did ring of this good newes; nothing but acclama­tions of joy and gladnesse was heard amongst the People, every body ran to see Navigius: Berontus was no body amongst the Vulgar, like to like enjoy'd their liking; the poor man was well help'd up, from a peck of troubles, to such a measure of admiration, and be­nignity. Bertaldo was sent for in Post-haste, (who returning as sud­denly.) The next thoughts that were in election, was how these two Ladyes were to be sent for, and who should be employ'd in that Affair. It was determined, that Bertaldo and Berontus should be dispatch'd upon this Embassie; Berontus to the Island of Majorca, to attend upon Honoria; and Bertaldo to Minorca, to waite upon Amarissa. And this for two Reasons, to which I might adde a third.

The first was, because Berontus had been so Fortunate to bring the Good-newes, it was thought fitting that he should have the Honour of the Employment.

The second was, That Bertaldo thought it more convenient ser­vice to wait upon his Mistresse, than his Sister.

And the third was, That Lorenzo knew Honoria would be satis­fied sufficiently to hear of her Brothers welfare at any hand, but he could not reward Berontus's services with lesse respect. Two Ships [Page 93] were speedily prepar'd, the one for Bertaldo, the other for Berontus: But all had been like to be spoil'd, for the Prince taking great affecti­on to Philoret, had gain'd Bertaldo his consent, that Philoret should stay behind to keep him Company; but there sate such a cloud on Philoret his Countenance, as made them all fear they should have no Faire weather after them, if he were left behind; wherefore the Prince willingly releas'd him of his grant.

They were all fairly Shipp'd; but behold, they were scarce out of sight of the Maine-land, but their stately Ships were forc'd to strike Saile to angry Neptune: who, with his awfull Trident, muster'd his Turbulent waves, whilst the innumerous Tacklings serv'd for so ma­ny Whistles to the winde, to call on danger to her Execution, whilst the Boyling Ocean lifted up her Waves so high, that the Masts of both the Ships charg'd their tops through the proud Heads of the in­sulting Billowes; till others (as if they had been their Friends) lifted the Victors upon their shoulders to such a height, as their main Masts were in danger to have fallen foul with the Celestiall Sphears; raking from their restlesse bottomes, so much Sand, as not onely discoloured the green Ocean, but also threatned a dissolution of the whole Earth into so many Attomes in the Sea: So that no marvaile, that they had quite lost one another, whilst they were both thus likely to be lost. So that it hapned (by reason of this Storme) that Bertaldo, who was bound for Minorca, was (by the fortune of the Windes) blown upon the Island of Majorca; and Berontus (who was bound for Majorca) was thrown upon the lesser Island: The mistake was not so great, whilst their Commissions were both the same.

Berontus was no sooner arrived there, but the newes was brought to Castriots house, That there was come from the Maine, the Gallan­test Gentleman that ever eyes beheld; and his businesse was, to enquire after a certaine Carthaginian Lady that was forc'd away from her owne Country, and brought hither by Violent hands.

Amarissa, at the first hear-say, conjectur'd it to be him who was intended, Bertaldo, though it fell out to be him, that should be there, Berontus, though not by order of Humane, but Divine Affaires. Amarissa saves Berontus the labour of Enquiry, and sends him her Name, with directions where to come, if that he knew it, or had any thing to say to her: He hastens to the place of her abode with such a longing desire, as good Newes carryes alwayes with it, when it knowes it shall affect the hearer with delight. When Amarissa heard that the same Cavalier was arriv'd at the Gate, she prepares her selfe for such information, as her owne eyes should give her, through the Glasse, whether it were the same of whom her hopes had given her some assurance: But as soone as Berontus began to enter the Court, her hopes began to retire; but seeing him such another goodly Personage, and having such a Manly gate, she thought the Glasse might be no true Mediator: Wherefore, desiring to be better inform'd, she onely opens the Casement, so farre as might serve her [Page 94] Eye-sight to sally out; which was so met withall by his, that it was beaten in againe without receiving the least intelligence, shutting that Sally-port with such diligence, as if an Enemy were ready to make his Entry in at the window, whilst the door was open to let in the best of Friends.

In comes Berontus, who having saluted her, makes her amends for the mistake of the Person, by bringing her Bertaldo in his Mouth, whose service (as knowing it to be most acceptable) he presented in the first place, acquainting the Lady by what accident it hapned, that he was not there himselfe, being designed purposely to waite on her, as his was to have attended upon the Princesse, Honoria: Amarissa was well enough pleas'd to hear of his Welfare, and could have found in her heart to have expressed her feares of his being cast away at Sea; but she smothered her affections for the present, and fell to asking how Lorenzo did? Scarce had they made an end of all that he had, and she to say, which took up no small proportion of time and discourse, but that a Messenger came to Amarissa from Ho­noria and Bertaldo, to acquaint her, that Bertaldo was there, how they miss'd Berontus, who was design'd for the place where he now was, acquainting her with the happy newes of all the late Occurren­ces. Berontus and Amarissa being both more at hearts-ease then when they met first. Amarissa, who delighted in nothing more then in hearing relations of deeds of Chivalry: and lov'd men for nothing more then their Prowesse; and no Gallantry like that which was shewed against her deadly Enemy Maximanus: And perceiving how sparingly Berontus had touch'd upon that string, and how his mode­sty had more commended himselfe, then delighted her. She desires him to tell her the manner how, the place where, the time when, with all other particulars concerning the killing of that Wild-Boar, where­in she professeth she could never be sufficiently satisfied. Whereupon Berontus related unto her the whole substance of the Story, with all the circumstances belonging thereunto, in such orderly manner, and observance to her commands, that all the Predicaments in Logick were but servants to his Method, and subjects to her Reason: She was so much taken with his Gallantry, giving him many thankes for his Relation; but withall told him, That she was most of all beholding to her self: For the best part of his description had been left out (if she had not wrested it frō him by degrees) through his modesty, that was so wary in letting any thing slip from him to his own advantage that concern'd himself. Then she fell to the businesse in Mauritania: and when Berontus had but touch'd upon that particular of preserving Lo­renzo by his most happy conduct, she did so conjure him not to mince the matter, but to tell her punctually how it was (supposing him­self a third person) upon whose entreaty he declared more at large. But when he came to speak of that particular service at the Bridge, and how fortunate a man had been to the whole Army; and asking him who it was, and could have no other answer from him but blushes [Page 95] and trancisions into other matters, Oh how Amarissa was taken with him! she could have leapt into his mouth, and shot the Gulph to come at that faire Harbour where there rid so brave a Man of War. But then she recalls her selfe, and faces about, to the remembrance of the brave Bertaldo, and checks her forward passion for loving a man so much, so soon, whilst all the Berontus'es in Affrica could not exceed Bertaldo, for what she had both heard, and seen: But falling into dis­course concerning his partaking with Bertaldo, in the differences which were between him and the Prince, she falls to loving him a­gaine; and hearing Berontus relate how stoutly Bertaldo behaved himselfe, in Honoria's and her behalfe, her love runs back againe, and catches at Bertaldo: nor is she wavering all this while, but constant to the true cause of love, worth, and true Nobility: she is not so much in love with either of their Persons, as both their valours; Berontus had slaine the Gyant, preserv'd Lorenzo, and Bertaldo both; Bertaldo had done as brave things as these, had possession of her heart before; at last she distinguishes betwixt loving her house, and riding on the top of it, she resolves to love him as a wel-deserving Friend, but Ber­taldo as a deare Husband; yet notwithstanding her carriage was so full of freedome and respect, that Berontus conceived that in his mind that his honour would not nourish, so they parted for that night.

The next day the wind serv'd faire for Majorca, and they were re­solv'd to neglect no opportunity to be together, where they might re-imbark themselves for Carthage, and with a faire wind they joy­fully landed, and were as Sumptuously entertained by Thoron and Armena, as they were gladly received by Bertaldo & Honoria; unexpres­sible was the joy that was between Honoria and Amarissa, the love that was between Amarissa and Bertaldo, Bertaldo and Honoria; both joyne hands in setting forth the praises and high Gallantry of Berontus. Berontus joynes issue with Bertaldo, and Honoria, in giving the due Encomiums that were belonging to Philoret; who presently becomes Amarissa's chief Favourite, as the Preserver of her life, the life of her beloved, the Honour of Lorenzo, the Glory of the Carthaginians. Amarissa would have been in love with Philoret, but what love in­vited, faith forbade; Berontus would have been in love with Ama­rissa, but that honour stood between: Honoria would have been in love with Lorenzo, but knew not how to come at him: Bertaldo had been in love with Philoret, had he knowne but what he had beene: and Philoret might have been beloved by Bertaldo, had he but had the confidence: if ever there was love in a maze, here it danc'd the round: you might heare of a True-lovers-knot, but never knew of such a knot (as here was) of True Lovers. In this loving humour they all tooke shipping, and were undersaile for Carthage.

CHAP. XVI.

PIppea by this time is become a pretty Maide, having the confidence to speake unto the Prince; she tells his High­nesse what she did, and that Honoria writ a Letter, and how she conveig'd it, and where she layd it.

Lorenzo presently goes and searches the Cabinet, finds it there, and reading it fell into a trembling, with thinking what a wound it would have been unto his injur'd soule, if Honoria had mis­carried, and afterwards he had sound that Letter; all this Pippea did by the perswasion of Hortensius. The Prince marvelously commen­ded Pippea for her piety to Honoria, promising her the chief place of Honour about her.

The newes was brought to Court, of the landing of Honoria, and the rest.

The Prince was ashamed to looke his owne happinesse in the face, and to see, that, which he most desired, yet he trusted to two friends to beare him out, Honoria's goodnesse, and his owne acknowledgment: he goes out to meet her, and finds her in a most conventent place for gratulation; where, descending his Charriot as she hers, he sayes thus unto her; Honoria, if I should question thy pardon, I should tax thy goodnesse; Mercy is Lady and Empresse of all the best of Attributes, I have a great deale to say, more to confesse, most of all to acknowledge; if thou wilt give me time, I will take no lesse then all my life, to bestow in repentance and satisfaction—

And as he was speaking further, she cuts him off with this prevention,

My Lord, I pray say no more; he's dead that was the cause of this, and in his grave, let the memoriall of all these things be buried, I am afraid you have been too severe a Punisher of your self already, I am glad I was preserv'd for no other cause—

And as Honoria was going on in her discourse, Bertaldo stops the cur­rent of her speech (till the streame swell'd so high, that her heart floated in compassion of Lorenzo's sorrow for her sufferings) saying, You two shall take another time, and place, when you are by your selves, then and there you can best charme one another into beliefs, which none [Page 97] can question whilst you are one anothers Judges, and by none attonements sooner wrought then when you are each others Advocates: Lorenzo, be but you her Votary, and I'le undertake she shall be your Confessour, small pittance shall serve for absolution. As Honoria would not heare Lo­renzo; nor Bertaldo, Honoria; so all the Company cry'd downe Ber­taldo, perceiving that no better accommodation might be made, then what should proceed from the goodnesse of their owne disposi­tions, when tongues should be as farre from interposing as eares from giving audience; all was hush'd, Lorenzo takes Honoria into his Char­riot; Bertaldo, Amarissa, into his; both Berontus: all three (the general­ly so much beloved) Philoret, Lorenzo & Honoria had little discourse, much handing, more kisses, many sighes; Bertaldo, and Amarissa, Berontus, and Philoret, were all Chatt; thus they made the way short to Carthage, where the People fill'd the Streets with Voices, and the Ayre with Acclamations of Joy, and Gladnesse, for that happy meeting; in a word, the whole businesse was so sweetly compos'd be­tween Lorenzo and Honoria, as if his heart had been a Jubile, and hers a plenary indulgence.

Thus stated, as at first, they began to entertaine thoughts, how they might drive a trade of happinesse between Bertaldo and Amarissa, whilst Berontus was love-sick for Amarissa, and Philoret deadly in love with Bertaldo, yet neither of them durst expresse the causes of their dis­contents; the one through a supposed unworthinesse in himself, the o­ther lest he should shew any defect in worth towards so brave a friend.

Bertaldo and Amarissa both hearken to the musick that Lorenzo and Honoria caus'd for to sound in both their eares; at which, Be­rontus made as soure a face, as Philoret lent them a deafe eare; at last Philoret singling out his Master, spake unto him in this manner:

Sir, You know with what a passionate affection I ever lov'd you, you know what preferments I ever waved to enjoy this relation; I perceive there is an overture of Marriage between you and Amarissa; you have oftentimes bid me aske what I would: I never askt you any thing, but now I shall.

My deare heart (said Bertaldo) aske what thou wilt, and I will grant it thee.

Then (said Philoret) I onely aske, that you would not Marry; I doe not aske, you would not Marry her: for, of all Women living, she's wor­thiest to be had.

Thy reason, good Philoret? (reply'd Bertaldo.)

Because I love you, (said Philoret.)

Why should thy love (said Bertaldo) prompt thee to such a prohi­bition?

Because (said Philoret) it is not good to part with that deare privi­ledge of being wholly a mans selfe, to be the halfe of another; besides, all the pleasure I have in this world is in your love; all my ambition is to de­serve it, and all my study is how I may improve that happinesse. Now when you have a Wife, your love will be set on her, and I shall but gleane [Page 98] in the same field where I formerly reapt a full Crop of Blisse: and there­with fell into a most sudden passion and extreame weeping.

Whereat Bertaldo taking him in his armes, intended him this satis­faction, My deare Philoret, I will Marry her, but on this condition, that she shall double, not mitigate the love I beare to thee: Sweet Boy, had I as many Wives as Carthage Women, they all should not be able to eclipse the least sparke of the true affection which I beare to thee, and to thy merit. Just as he had spoken that word, there came a Servant from the Prince, desiring his company; he clapping Philoret on both his cheeks, with both his hands, bid him be confident that all the Wives in the world, should not draw away his affection from him, and so left him weeping.

In which posture Berontus found him, and enquiring into the cause, and by Philoret's answer, finding it to be grounded upon his dislike of the Marriage, he imbraces both him and his discontent, fostering it up to a full growth, as agreeable to his humour; but all in vaine: for, the Match was made, the Parties agreed, the Time set; onely Bertaldo told his Mistresse, with what reluctancy Philoret resented it, and upon what grounds, desiring her to use her utmost indeavour to dispossesse him of that conceit.

Amarissa undertakes it, and sends for Philoret: who being come, Amarissa takes him aside, and thus intreats him: Sweet-heart, I un­derstand thy love to be such to thy Master, that thou think'st it will be lesse, when he has me; I have sent for thee to assure thee, that it will be double; when we two are one, you must distinguish between love, and love; it is one thing to love a Wife, and another thing to love a Friend, or Fa­vourite; the love of the one, no way lessens the obligations and ties of friendships that are between the other, but rather incloses them in bounds and fences, whereby they are not violable. Truely, Philoret, I know thy love to be such to thy Master, and thy merits to be so great in every eye, that were I not engag'd unto Bertaldo by promise, and oblig'd by ho­nour, of all the Men that carry heads upon their shoulders, I should love Philoret, and therefore never feare that his love should be lesse to thee. Amarissa (perceiving Philoret his colour to be quite gone, and a Civill warre begun already upon his cheekes, between the white Rose and the Red) leaves off speaking, (as men leave wounding when they think the party almost dead) when poor Philoret had fallen to ground, had not Amarissa catcht him falling, who (like some young Physiti­an) seeing his Potion begin to work by contraries, feares he had mistaken the right Glasse, and prescrib'd his Patient Poysons instead of Cordialls: so affrighted was Amarissa in applying remedies where she was so ignorant of the disease. Philoret comes to himself, whom Amarissa leaves, as Doctors doe their Patients, when they begin to be dangerous, carrying that sad newes of irrecovery to Bertaldo, who flies to his beloved Page, catching him up in his Armes, asking him what he ayl'd? And what he would have? Bidding him declare his mind fully, what he would, before he Marryed: or whether Honour, [Page 99] Preferment, Land, Riches, Money most affected him, it should be gran­ted; and if he doubted his Marriage would be an Obstacle to any of these, he would never Marry untill he had satisfied him in any of the par­ticulars.

Philoret answered him, I ask nothing, but that you would not Marry; all these things I have forsaken already for your sake, and if you Marry I must forsake you, and die.

Bertaldo told him, that it was but the Exuberance of his affection, which in time may easily be remedied: telling him, That fondnesse must give way to Princes Edicts.

It was decreed by Lorenzo's Command, that to morrow must be the day that Amarissa and he must shake hands in Holy Wed­locke.

Then (said Philoret) I may lie at your feet this night.

Philoret (said Bertaldo) thou shalt lie for ever at my heart, as my best friend for ever. Come, I'le call thee Page no more, thou shalt be my selfe; and afterwards I shall let thee know, that thy fears are needlesse, and that thy discontents stand upon no ground.

Thus past the night away, when in the morning there was nothing to be seene, but preparations for the Wedding; time drawing on, the accustomed preparations for the Solemnity, newes was brought, that Berontus was very sick, and could not attend the Ceremony; Philoret had fallen into severall distempers, and fits of soundings, (strange Preludiums to such Solemnities) Berontus his condition was not much weigh'd, because not any knew the cause of his di­stemper; but Philoret, his case was much resented by those who were not ignorant either of the Malady, or the Remedy. Amongst whom Bertaldo was the forwardest (as the most expert) Physitian in feeling of his Pulse: Who comming to Philoret, said, Thou (young man) that astonishest all men with thy Miracles, and me with thy Love, why dost thou expire so often? There must be something to hinder every man from the perfection of a Deity. Why wilt thou sullie all thy former actions with such fondness? more befitting some female weakness, than re­lating to such prowesse as is alwaies resident in thy manly breast; why art thou such a jarre to all our musick, rain'st thy teares upon our joyfull harvest? Come, I ne'r Chid thee before in all my life, nor ever thought I should; and why should I Chide thee, since it is rather the errour of love, than love of errour? thou committ'st the fault, and I'le give satis­faction; aske and have what thou wilt of me; for, by all that's good, wert thou capable of a nearer relation than that of Friendship, even of that I'm going about and should'st aske me, Amarissa should not stand between thee and thy Contentment. Heavens! what confusion that word cast into his thoughts! what changeablenesse into his countenance! what rain bows were tied in True lovers knots upon his cheeks! he gave his eyes free leave to speake his minde, whil'st he deny'd his heart the benefit of it's own Advocate; he lets silly and unexperienc'd wishes, sallie out of that strong-hold, whilst effective words & language were kept in like con­querable [Page 100] Lyons within their Grates; at last, (considering the con­fusion that would follow his discovery, but most of all fearing the deniall that his suppos'd disparity would soone give check to such a Mate) his mind gave him rather to break his Heart, than break his Mind; and chose rather to die a sacrifice to humility, than to em­broile such Lovers in discontents, to satisfie his own desires, by such presumption; giving Bertaldo this answer, sent up by the swellings of his Heart, no rising of any Lungs.

Bertaldo, I am contented that you shall Marry Amarissa, and enjoy her, upon one condition, that you will onely give me leave to mourn this day, and I shall never trouble you with any more Petitions.

Bertaldo admiring at his suite, yet being us'd to such exotick fond­nesse, custome took away the strangenesse of it; whereupon he gave him leave (not thinking that he had meant any other kind of mour­ning, then not rejoycing with the rest) whereat Philoret seem'd to be much pleas'd, and Bertaldo, glad that he had any way contented him) repaires to Amarissa, whom he confounds with the relation, in thinking with what strange predominance his love bare sway; how­ever she resolves to humour him likewise for the future, and by her loving carriage towards him to let him see his Errour. But when the time drew near, that hand in hand should joyne two hearts in one; Be­hold Lorenzo, he falls suddenly sick, whose indisposednesse to attend the Ceremony, bequeathes the gift of Amarissa into Holy Hands, to be delivered to Bertaldo, to the performance of the brave Berontus: who being sick with Love, was deadly afraid he should thereby be accessary to his owne destruction; how averse soever his minde was to the Princes deputation, yet necessity laid such strong hold upon him, together with Bertaldo his Entreaties, and Amarissa's Court­ship, that it seem'd no otherwise to him, then as if he had been com­pell'd to act that part with such an impulsion, as wherewith the evill destinies drive men to be their own Executioners.

Thus all was out of order, whilst ignorance is about to joyne hands with Devotion, to act unlawfull things under the pretension of Holy Rites: on they rush, as well as they may, they think no hurt, they doe no good: Monstrum horrendum informe ingens cui lumen a­demptum. They enter the Holy Place, the Priest is present, the Par­ties ready, the People by, the Ceremonies begun, Berontus is call'd upon to doe his Office; he goes about what he had rather let alone, unwillingly willing he takes Amarissa by the hand; and when he should deliver her to the Priest, he holds her fast, and would not let her goe; and when he should speak certaine words, he declares by an uncertaine kind of speech, which had no other articulates but the weight of language, I mean his tears; that what he did, came not from his heart, whereby seeming to serve for no other use, then as a dumb and senslesse Statue; her hand was taken out of his, and given to another, who gave it to the Priest to be delivered to Bertaldo, who were then, and there, publiquely Married in the fight of all the [Page 101] world. Never till this time, when it seem'd too late, did Amarissa perceive that Berontus was in love with her, whose pitty of his condition made her sorry that she had not known it sooner; and that sorrow caused Bertaldo to perceive a kind of reluctancy in Amarissa's countenance, as if she had not been well pleas'd with what she had done, which made him not so well pleas'd with his Bargaine as o­therwise he would have been: But behold a sad sight administred a greater occasion of dislike, than was the former; for Philoret, over­set with Melancholly of the Blackest hue, studies a way how to improve it to the highest. Wherefore when he perceiv'd them all gone to the Wedding, he puts on a Mourning Habit, and all alone goes into the roome prepar'd for the Dinner, where solemnity had plac'd two Chaires of State for the Bride, and Bridegroome, to enthrone them­selves in Majesty; Thus accoutr'd, Philoret seates himselfe in the Brides Chair; and throwing his upper Garment over his shoulder, he settles his minde to as deep a Melancholly, as either his outward Habit, or his Posture, hung out signes: Thus under the shadow of despaire sits Philoret, like a condemned Victim pressed to death, whose inability to indure the present paine, makes him cry more weight; untill oppression made him senslesse, falling into a charitable slumber, that put him into such a pleasing dreame, as in a manner was able to quit cost to all his anxieties: He dream't, how, that after death, he was found to be a Virgin; and that Bertaldo lov'd him bet­ter dead, than when he was alive, and that he wept over him; and that his Teares were such an Embalmement, that he should never Rot, nor Stink; he dream't the loose Earth over his Grave to be transparent; so that he could see Bertaldo, and Amarissa, strewing Herbes and Flowers over his Grave, and from their swolne eyes, to pour such virtuall showers upon that Covering, that the Flowers rooted, and were everlasting: whilst the bordering Willowes round his Semitary, with lifting up their armes by a just wind, refus'd their Boughes to hands, that were too forward for to pluck Materialls where withall to make him Garlands. In which interim, in comes Bertaldo, with Amarissa in his hand, with all their Concommitants to that half solemnity, where finding Philoret asleep in such a Po­sture, such a Seat, such Habit, and at such a time, it struck them into such a dumpe, that Raine in Harvest was never so unwelcome to the greedy Husband-man, as this sight was cause of discontent to the two Triumphants; they all stood about him, and pitied both his sleep and waking; all fell a wondring why asleep, why in Mourning, why in her Chaire, why at that time just, when others were in Cele­bration of so great Solemnity!

Lorenzo sick, Berontus he not well, Philoret so significant in his per­plexity, never was there a Wedding so like a Funerall, whil'st the two subjects of that mirth and jollity that was expected, were the chiefe Mourners to so many unexpected causes of adversity: thus he re­main'd, and thus the sad Spectators all continued, untill such time as [Page 102] the Prince his Sewer usher'd in the Dishes to the Bridall boord; when the smell of so many severall meats (like an enemy to his repose) gave an alarum to his five senses to repaire to their severall posts.

Philoret (as yet a stranger to himselfe) could not behold so great a lustre, as the glory of that day presented to his eyes; so that he was forc'd to call in his Scouts before they had enabled him with the least intelligence.

Amarissa pressing forwards to receive an account of his well or evill fare, (Bertaldo standing behind her) Philoret thought himselfe in an eclipse (perceiving the Moone to be between him and his Sunne) yet in that darknesse, he findes the way to so much sweetnesse, and ci­vility, as that he tooke Amarissa by the hand, and seated her in her Throne; which having done, he sinks downe dead at her very feet.

Bertaldo catches him up againe, uses all the meanes to recall him to himselfe, but all in vaine: he remaines breathlesse, no pulses beat, nor signe of life at all: All give him for dead; he makes haste by de­grees, till he becomes as cold as earth; he is delivered into proper hands for laying of him forth: Bertaldo weeps, whil'st all were so full of sorrow, that there were no Comforters, none sate downe to eate, whil'st the meat, as sympathizing with the accident, cool'd as if it dyed, losing their artificiall, as he his naturall heat; who can ima­gine the sorow that in generall fill'd every particular breast? but to conceive the vast load that lay upon Bertaldo, who acknowledged him selfe guilty of the murder, by giving so deafe an eare to Philoret 's often inculcations, that he should not Marry, and that if he did he should surely dye: which had he but believ'd, all the world should not have per­swaded him to have shaken hands with any Creature living.

Amarissa began to consider with her selfe, how happy it had been if Bertaldo had observ'd the Injunctions of his Darling; and she had knowne that Berontus had been so in love with her, whom she alwaies lik'd and honour'd; but durst not shew it by reason of her Ingagement, nor he declare his mind insisting upon tearmes of Honour, whom missing, all upon a sudden (as fearing that that two Tragedies might be acted in one day) she cries, What is become of Berontus? when be­hold, in comes the Messengers of the most distracting newes that ever reached eares; for, the Women who came from laying forth the body of poore Philoret, spake amazement by their lookes, before they us'd a tongue, whose eye-auditors (as if they had receiv'd some strange intelligence) ask'd, What's the matter? and how? to they knew not what.

Whil'st Bertaldo impatient to be tormented long with silent Mon­sters, bid them speake their minds, and tell him what it was that made them looke so gastly?

Oh! Sir, (said one of them) if you would needs know, Philoret was a pure Virgin, and no Man.

At which word, Bertaldo tore his hayre, rent his wedding garments, rav'd & roar'd about the roome, not caring what was mis becomming [Page 103] either a stout heart or a manly courage, and gives himselfe wholly over to be sway'd by Passion.

Amarissa she runs forth to view the Corps, brings word to Bertaldo, that it was so indeed.

Whereupon, Bertaldo could not endure the sight of Amarissa, that was the cause of this; nor himself, that had so much doted upon her: blames the dead, then takes all the blame upon himselfe, that he was such a Block-head as not to conceive so much before, perceiving so many Symptomes of love that could not be but Foeminine by its violence, pro­testing before all the Gods, that had she but opened her mouth in the least intimation concerning any such matter, he would have had her what­soever she were, before any Woman living: then troubles himselfe with imaginations, who it should be, what might be her name, perswa­ding himselfe it must be one of more than ordinary ranke and quality: Then mads himselfe that he had not knowne it, excusing her with at­tributes of modesty, and humility; with these distractions, frenzies, and generall condolements, they pass'd the day, whil'st the night invited, not their maladies, to seeke remedies by repose; thoughts of Coffins, dead Bodies, and Graves, interdicted the Ceremony of the Bed; all was neglected, and what was strangest of all, the married Couple was not onely carelesse of themselves, but of one another: and how could Bertaldo delight in her, when he delighted in nothing else, but think­ing how he might have been anothers? and how could Amarissa joy in him, when she thought of nothing more, but how she might have been any way happier, than in the condition she was in; whil'st sorrow for what they had done made them acceptable, repentance makes way for Amynda her redemption; for, the time of her promised comforts, and assistant graces was at hand, wherein she visiteth the sick Lo­renzo, and brings him tidings of the recovery both of his health and understanding.

[Page 104] Lorenzo, like a refresh'd Gyant, rouzes up himself, and musters his Disconsolates, acquainting them with the strange newes that was re­veal'd unto him, whose misbelief he soone rectified by telling them, that they should all know this to be true by Periissa her being not dead, but in a trance, inviting them all as Witnesses to her resurrection, whom they all follow through so many degrees of love: Confidence fill'd the Roome, whilst Hope attended the touch, that rais'd her up to life. Periissa comes to her selfe, both in name and nature, and ad­mires to heare Lorenzo call her Periissa; wonders to heare Bertaldo say, Ah my Periissa! why would'st thou conceale this from thy beloved, whose soule and thine were ever Man and Wife? wonders to heare Amarissa say, dearest Periissa, you shall freely enjoy what you desire, I must not stand between you and that Happinesse. Wonders to heare Bertaldo say, that Amarissa was his owne Sister, and that the Wedding­knot must be dissolv'd, and fastned betweene them two, (meaning Bertaldo and her selfe) but chiefly wonders at Honoria her calling upon Lorenzo, to give her an account how that she was sole Daughter and Heire to the Duke of Maedina Coeli.

Like a Man that has layen long in some darke Dungeon, and is sud­denly brought into such a light, whose rayes (from that resplendent sunne) make such a glory round about him, that his weake eyes are not able to comprehend so great a lustre: In such a pleasing Confu­sion was Periissa, so stifled was her sorrow in the throng of so many pressing happinesses.

Like a knot of True-lovers of one another, yet all in misery, and in want, and ready to be hunger-starv'd, espying the relief of some large and bountifull portion of meat to be brought to some one of them, all rejoyce alike, knowing they shall all participate of that bounty: so did this joyfull newes which was brought unto Periissa, fill with ioy, and ravish with delight, all these Companions in misery; knowing, that this viand, would be food to all their appetites; for, (saith Berontus) if this be so, then Bertaldo shall have Periissa, and Amarissa she's free for me: then thought Amarissa, if this Knot be dissolv'd, I am not so ty'd, but that I may enquire into the causes of Be­rontus his distemper, and if occasion serve, apply fit remedies.

Each severall application of these joyfull tidings to their owne particulars (for the present) hindred that universall Conflux which (otherwise) would have been amongst them, till at last the severall species contributed all their interest to make up one generall gladnesse and Jubile of delight, like a maine River that being divided into se­verall petty Channels, runnes not with such a large streame as when it was united, but meeting all into one Current again, the severall dis­imboguements reduce it to its former greatnesse.

Thus re-instated, the severall instruments and voices make one harmony, whil'st the diversities of Wel-wishers lent their eares accor­ding to their severall engagements; some wish'd well unto Berontus, others were glad of Periissa her good fortune, not a few were over­joy'd [Page 105] at Amarissa's freedome, all were transported with a ravishing delight to see Fortunes-wheele turne so merrily: the Parties them­selves thought their conditions so good, that upon the sudden they were unwilling to owne them; one was modest, and could not; another was bashfull, and durst not; a third thought her selfe bound, and might not; a fourth thought himselfe freed, and would: This begot a liberty in the Correllative, which example begot no lesse confidence in the bashfull, then encouragement in the most modest soule; all act their parts accordingly: Bertaldo slights his Amarissa, and Courts the new rais'd Periissa, to life, hope, name, and fortune: Ama­rissa takes it not amisse, and entertains the free embraces of Berontus: Lorenzo and Honoria rejoyce to see these promis'd miracles take ef­fect, and their wonders come to such maturity. Bertaldo presses assu­rances upon Periissa; she holds off, looks strangely upon him, in her mayden habit, and protraction drawes a heavie load of insupportable impatience after it: she lookes no babies in his eyes, she sues not to be turn'd away, she supplicates for no prostration at his feet, she carries all things high, (stil giving him a respect that in state becomes a Prin­cesse, of her degree, unto a Person of such Ranke and quality) he gives her all the observance that her Majesty requir'd, kneel'd and kiss'd her hand, made speeches upon his knee, prayes her to be merci­full, and forgive his ignorance.

She takes all to her self, and after many supplications and prayers, she sayes unto him, Tell me truely, Bertaldo, dost thou believe that I am the Duke of Medina Coeli 's Daughter?

To whom Bertaldo reply'd, I am confident you are, & believe it verily. From whence arises so strong faith? (said Periissa.)

Bertaldo reply'd, Shall I not believe Amynda 's Ghost? shall I not give credit to Lorenzo 's relation? besides, none could doe the things which thou hast done, but Coeli's off-spring, wherfore I cannot stagger.

This is not enough Bertaldo (said Periissa) you must doe something more for me, I enjoyne you to repaire forthwith unto my owne Countrey, and my Fathers house, and there inquire if they misse not a Daughter, that hath these signes upon her arme, the Sunne and Moone (shewing them unto Bertaldo in the sight of all the Standers by) and saying, if thou canst by thy endeavours finde out such a one, there's such a one for thee.

Bertaldo kiss'd her hand, presently tooke his leave, saying, he would not neglect a minutes time, and hoped to returne shortly, and give her sa­tisfaction to her demands: so departed.

Berontus finding all the clouds dispell'd that were between him and his heaven, lifts up his eyes to Amarissa; she taking Periissa for her leading Starre, takes the same course she did, and proposes to Berontus her injunction, as a patterne for her imitation, saying unto him, Goe to Rome and learne how it was that I am Honoria 's Sister, and I am your Wife: So they were both dispatch'd upon their Knight's Errantries, whil'st the two task-Mistresses, like innocent Children, who spend [Page 106] their time in the delightfull recreation of making Babies, acting Wed­dings, and Lyings in; so did these two pretty pieces of innocence, delight themselves with making a Mock-wedding between Pippea and Hortensius, delighting themselves with a happinesse, which they were contented should be really their owne, so that it might be but representatively theirs. And thus it was occasioned.

CHAP. XVII.

PIppea being so highly preferr'd as to be Honoria her Chiefest Maide of Honour, and Hortensius likewise a Man in no small request with Prince Lorenzo; Pippea being first in Honour, Hortensius durst not break his mind unto her, before such time as he lighted upon this encouragement; Lorenzo to gratifie Hortensius his merits, and sufferings, (which acts of contrition and signes of repen­tance, he dayly exercis'd in expiation of his crime, and complacence with his Honoria) caused his Statua to be set over the Garden-dore, with this inscription underneath in Capitall & Golden Letters, viz:

[Page 107] It hapned (at sundry times) when Honoria and Amarissa went to recreate themselves in the Garden, (with their usuall Attendants) that they evermore observ'd Pippea to stay behind at the door ga­zing upon Hortensius his Picture, which Amarissa one time amongst the rest taking speciall notice of, she thus spake unto Honoria:

Madam,

Upon my life your Maid Pippea is in Love with Hortensius, for I have observ'd her alwayes when she comes by that Picture, she cannot en­ter the Garden without a great deal of contemplation upon it.

Honoria, loving her the better for being so much an admirer of her Martyr, reply'd, I pray lets goe and observe her a little.

All agreed, and found out a most convenient place for observa­tion, where they saw Pippea laying her hand upon her Heart, and at last wiping her Eyes; and having cleared that skie from those bottl'd clouds, she look'd so wishly upon that Type, untill the thing typified came behind her, catcht her in his Armes, and ask'd her what she was looking upon? Pippea finding her self surpris'd) was ashamed to look him in the Face; who would have been much more out of Countenance, had she but known who were Spectatours of those a­morous passions of hers upon a similitude. This was not all the Sport that the Ladyes had, for they might hear Hortensius asking her the question why she look'd so much upon the Figure, and so little upon the Substance?

And Pippea answering him, I must goe to my Mistresse. Hortensius praying her not to be so hard hearted, as altogether to turne her face to a Stone, and not at all to rejoyce the Man it represented, with one copy of her Countenance. And she answering him againe, I must be gone, the Princesse will wonder what is become of me, pray let me goe. Hortensius saying, I will not let you goe before I have a Kisse of you. Pippea answe­ring, I pray don't you stay me. Hortensius urging, don't you stay your selfe, lest you should be miss'd. Pippea replying, why doe not you let me goe then? Hortensius telling her, because you will not give me my due. Your due (said Pippea) what's that? A kisse (said Hortensius.) How comes that to be your due? (said Pippea.) Kisses are Loves tribute (said Hortensius) and if you can find in your heart to say you doe not love me, I will have none. Why (said Pippea) doe Maides use to Kisse, or to be Kiss'd? Hortensius rectified his errour with kissing her over and over againe, and so let her goe. When she was got out of his reach, she turn'd about againe, and told him, That if it had not beene for the hastes sake she made to come to her Mistresse, he should not have had it; and with that runs into the Garden. Hortensius stayed behind, lest their familiarity should be taken notice of, whilst the eyes that ap­plauded his affection were in love with his Policy, and resolv'd to ad­vance his humility a degree higher.

Pippea made such haste, for fear of offending, that they were all ve­ry well pleased, that she had not discovered them to be such Eaves-Droppers, as they had made themselves. Pippea running towards the [Page 108] upper end of the Garden, they advance from their Station. Pippea not finding them in any of the upper ends of the Garden, upon her return (at the first) was glad to see them between her and the door, as ba­nishing that fear which she had conceived of her loytering behind; but when she perceived them all to fall a Laughing, which could not be interdicted, (though the Princesse had given speciall Command that not any should take the least notice of what they had seene) she was amaz'd; and her Blushes came so thick into her Face, that the Bloud began to grow dark in her Cheeks; which Honoria perceiving, (and willing to deliver her from that fear) told her, Pippea, we laugh to see that thou couldst not finde us: but indeed, we play'd the wags with thee, and hid our selves from place to place.

Pippea glad it was no otherwise, dismiss'd the Bloudy ensignes out of so fair a Field, and rufled up the Colours in her Cheeks: so there was no more of that for that time.

But it hapned not long after, Honoria and Amarissa to have some private discourse, both perceiving Hortensius and Pippea to be deeply in love with one another, (themselves being sensible of the smart of Love) and that neither of them durst shew, or effect the thing they most desired: These two mercifull Ladyes were resolv'd to be cha­ritable, and went, and made the Prince acquainted therewith, who was not onely glad of opportunities, whereby he might gratifie his Honoria, but was exceedingly glad to act any thing that might be pleasing to so great instruments of such universall happinesse: Pre­sently bids them forward what they had taken such notice of to be begun, and encourage the parties to proceed in their Commencement, to give their hopes some aire, and to help their love to wings; and that they should be both Honourably provided for.

Honoria having received these instructions, sends for Pippea, and questions her in private concerning the Love that was between her, and Hortensius; but perceiving her Maid begin to Blush, she anticipates her Crime, by her preventing Grace, and Favours towards her, with telling her how she knew it, and what she had observ'd with her owne Eyes, besides what she heard: This saved her from the sinne of telling an untruth (which was upon the termes of breaking its prison) and gave her leave to turne a flat deniall into a laudable excuse, saying:

Truly Madam, I confesse I love him, so must all that love you, amongst whom I have a little more reason then the rest, because we were fellow-Agents in the work of your Deliverance. Truly Madam, I could not chuse but behold his Picture; and when I look upon it, I can but envy his happinesse.

Why didst thou smite thy breast, and weep when thou look'st up­on it? (said Honoria.)

Madam,

I wept (said Pippea) to think upon the misery you were in; and I struck my breast for sorrow, that I was not abler to have done you more service [Page 109] then I did, that I might have such another set up for me, to which I think no Glory or Honour comparable.

Honoria forthwith protested, that she had deserv'd no lesse than he; and that she did more for her Capacity, than he for his; and that she would erect the like Memoriall for her, and place it at the very entrance into her Chamber, as Lorenzo had done for his Hortensius at the en­trance into his Garden: and perform'd the thing she promised. Which was no sooner done, but Hortensius could never be from Honoria's Chamber Door, nor Pippea from the Garden Frontispice, where they dayly sacrifice Hecatombes of the best wishes to one anothers Shrines.

CHAP. XVIII.

COrderius and Fortunata, (whose Dayes were Holy, and whose Nights were Sanctuaries, whose mindes gave them to reduce their Piety, to Practice) contented not themselves with a bare notion of Speculative Divinity, Orall Piety, or Auricular Devotion; but they must be doing Good, and acting deeds of Charity: for indeed, Religion is Gods Plough, whereby he Tills the Field of his Church, whereby that Field is made a fit receptacle to receive the Seed of the Word. This Plough goes not forward (onely) by looking before us, but by putting hands unto it also; and bending the severall parts of the body in a Devout posture to fungifie their severall Offices, leaving the two maine Props, and Supporters of the whole, not to goe before the hands, but to thrust them forwards. Thus Religiously-minded were those Purer ones; not to wear the palmes without the Crown of vertue; Charity: and not to suffer Charity to begin in a wrong place, but where it should begin, at home: Wherefore (being themselves ad­vanced to Wealth and Honour) they entertained thoughts how they might preferre their poore Brother Favorinus to some good Fortune.

Corderius casting about which way he might effect his longing de­sires; at last, he bethought himselfe of a young rich Widow, who had a bountifull Estate; and to boot, too good an opinion of her self, who was a Beautifull, but withall, a Scornfull Lady, who constant­ly wore upon her sleeve a Nettle: And if you ask'd her the reason why she grac'd that regardlesse Weed so much? she would answer you, That she wore it not for a grace, but to disgrace and sting away Younger brothers. This Lady, what for her Riches sake, and what for her Beauties fame, was Courted by most men of Fortune, Come­linesse, [Page 110] great Parts and Excellence in all those parts, but no man was good enough for her, (so well she thought of her selfe.)

Here was little hopes (you will say) for Favorinus, who was not onely a Tounger brother, but one, whose Prodigall Father, had made a Tounger brother, of his Eldest Child: But Corderius from time to time observing a vivacity and sprightlinesse to be (prodigiously) pre­dominant in the well-temper'd nature and disposition of Favorinus his Brother-In-law, (whom he lov'd so dearly, both for his owne, and Sisters sake) that he thought him a fit instrument, either to make this Widow his own, or else to let her know her selfe: he acquaints Favorinus with the businesse, and disposition of the Lady; giving him these encouragements withall, That if he would but put the best Leg forward, it should not want Shooes nor Stockings answerable to the oc­casion, nor Friends to back him; and if need required, what further might be requisite.

Favorinus reply'd, He that cannot swim to a Widowes Bed side thus held up by the Chin, it is pity but that he should sink for ever, and never be seene 'mongst men any more.

Favorinus forthwith accoutres himself with all the necessaries re­quisite for a Compleat Suitor; and sends the Widow word, that at such a time he intended to wait upon her about such a businesse, desi­ring her not to be abroad.

Bisalta, for so was the Widow nam'd, (having Non-suited many a brave Gallant in her time, (who thought themselves no small fools) and wondring to receive such a confident Message from a Man, over whose Name Fame had never blown her Trumpet in her eares) disdain'd the Proposition: yet was resolv'd to stay at home, though to no other purpose, but to give him an Affront; and lest her Triumph should want Spectators, she sends for some of her Neighbours to be there at the same time, as witnesses to the Repulse she meant to give him. Favorinus (as confident as his own naturall and acquir'd abili­ties would give him leave) repaires to her dwelling-place at the time appointed, (alwayes holding this for a Maxime in Loves school, That there is never a Woman in the world, but she is to be won one way or other, if a man could hit upon the right) and having heard, and read the many papers of Verses, and Acrosticks upon her Name (as so many Encomiums of her beauty, and perfections; as also what Hony­mouth'd Orators she had banished out of the dominion of her Beauty with Vinegar faces) he resolv'd to steer another course, and (like skilfull Seamen) to lavere, and fetch compasses of winding policies to his wished point.

To the house he comes, but findes no preparations for his com­ming; no Neatnesse extraordinary in any part thereof; he was faine to knock twice or thrice at the Hall door before any body would come at him: at last one came, and ask'd him, What he would have? who answered the Fellow (as surly) That he would have the Widow.

[Page 111] If you can have her good will (said the Servant) with all my heart.

I pray thee let me have thine (said Favorinus) to speake with her.

You shall Sir, (said the Serving-man:) there was Favorinus faine to walke twenty turnes in the Hall, before the Messenger came back with invitations of him into the Parlour: where he was no sooner entred, but he could see the Widow in a carelesse habit, and as flight a posture, playing at Cards with some of her Country-Neighbours; yet upon his approach she rises from the boords-end, and meets him as little a way as she could (glad to see the Man in so fine cloathes whom she meant so finely to abuse.)

Favorinus (with so gracefull a Congie, as no education could finde fault withall) almost upon her lips, recovers himself by degrees, (gi­ving her such a scornfull looke as could have no other language, but, how neare was I unto the touch of so great deformity! is this the beauty that is so much talk'd of? a very Dowdie! an arrant Pusse! all this did he speake without a word, and more than this did she conceive by that one looke) and (dividing a few jeering smiles amongst her Gossips) departs her presence, in the greatest disdaine that can be imagined.

One of her Gammers cries, What is this a Showter?

Another cries, Out upon him.

A third cries, The Gods forefend, that I may never have to doe with any such Showters, what? not kisse her, when he was so neare to her? if I were as you ha shud never have a kisse on me though a wod never so faine.

But Bisalta (seeing her selfe so highly contemn'd before so many Witnesses, which was no small aggravation to her discontent) swell'd (like a toad, stung in the fore-head, by some spider, whose poyson is of a hotter nature than his owne) untill (not onely) the laces of her Bodize burst in sunder, but her big-swolne heart cry'd roome, as if those bounds of nature had not been ribs sufficient, for so weake a vessel. She vowes (within her selfe) to be reveng'd, and to make him see his errour, though the price of her experiment be no lesse than her selfe and all her fortunes; she thinks if she doth not make this Man recant, she doth nothing; and proposes the gaining of this Mans love as a worke answerable to her magnanimity, but she knowes not his name, nor when she shall see him againe, whether ever or never; she tells her Neighbours that she will bring them to the Gate, her mean­ing was, to see whether she could lay eyes upon him againe, and find some opportunity to speake to him, or happily come to the speech of some of his Attendants, that she might know his name: but she came out time enough to see him take Horse, which was brought un­to him by a Lacquoy, richly habited; having two Pages standing bare to him in sumptuous apparell; the one having a Hawke upon his fist, the other uncoupling his Spaniels.

Favorinus layes his hand upon the pummil, and vaults up into the saddle with such a grace & cleane activity, sitting his Horse (whilst he curvetted) in such a comely posture, as if Horse and Man had been but one body.

[Page 112] Bisalta by this time was come downe to the place, which he must needs passe by, and so by her; who (when he came neer unto her) as if she had dopd and curchied so much unto him, that he could not doe otherwise, bestowed this regardlesse language upon her:

Widow, if my Game lead me this way againe, I will make bold to call for a Cup of Drinke.

Joy spread its coulours in her face, she makes more than ordinary obeysance, and assures him more than ordinarily, that he should be welcome.

He slighting her extraordinarily, turnes away from her, and calls upon his Men to come away.

She calls upon one of them to stay a little, and tell her, who his Ma­ster was?

The Page (with his Hat upon his head, as if he had been good e­nough for her) answered the Lady, that his Masters Name was Fa­vorinus, Sonne to Favorinus, Knight of such an Order, and Brother to Fortunata, Wife to the Lord Corderius; and so made haste after his Master without any more expostulation.

She tooke sudden leave of her Neighbours, and presently returnes to her owne house, and within her selfe, and there begins to commune with her owne thoughts, what it might be, that was the cause of his so great dislike in her? she presently ran to her glasse, (fearing that her face might be smutted, or that that dresse might not be so pleasing, or that her head was not well dress'd; she calls up her Maid, comman­ding her to bring her such a Head-dresse, to dresse her head so and so, to bring her such and such Garments for her wearing; every hayre of her head is set in print, and she makes twenty faces in the glasse one after another forty times over that she might see which of them was most becomming; one she found out which pleas'd her better than all the rest, and that she was resolv'd to keep till he came back; then she was afraid he would not come back at all; then she sends her Servants one this way, another that way, some to hearken if they could heare the crie of any Hounds, or quest of Spaniels; others whether they could heare any Hawkes bells, or lurings after the Hawke; her Maydes she imployes in pulling the coverings off of the stooles and chayres, the cases off the Couch and Hand-irons, some in rubbing the boords with sweet and green herbs, othersome in fetching downe the best Cubberd and Table-cloathes: the Woman was starke wild for the Man: at last she sits her selfe downe, and thinks with her selfe what a gallant Man he was, a Knights Sonne, a Lords Brother-in-law, a Lord that is most in favour with the Prince; Fortunata's Brother, (who is cry'd up for such a beauty) and she waranted her self that he was a Man of some great power and estate by his retinue, Oh that this Man would come (thought she) and like me! I would not have such a slur put upon me to be mislik'd for the world, this was the first man that e're mislik'd me since I was worth the having, and this shall be the first Man that shall have me if he likes me.

[Page 113] She had no sooner set her minde and house in order, but one comes (running in) and tells her, The Gentleman is at the dore, but will not light.

She runnes out as fast, and prayes him, that he would be pleas'd to alight from off his Horse, and rest himselfe awhile, he should be very welcome.

Favorinus tels her, he cares not and if he doth: alights off his Horse, ne're salutes her; walks in by her, gives her never a word: by that time he was come into the Parlour, he perceives both House and House­wife trim'd up to bid him welcome; he calls for a Glasse of her cooler Wine.

She intreats him to sit downe, and seats her selfe over against him, to her best advantage, and the lights shaddowings.

Favorinus perceiving all, and looking a long time very stedfastly upon her, at last he told her, that now he had lookt more warily upon her physiogmony, she was an indifferent handsome Woman, but wish'd her, not to be too proud, for that was all: even handsome enough to make a Wife, and that was all that could be said of her.

She (more glad of that under -word from him, than of all the Hyper­bole's that had been given her by his Betters, said, desiring to improve his good opinion of her, by taking that as a courtesie from him which would have been an injury from another) gives him this answer, You are pleased to attribute a perfection to me above my merit; for, that is the highest degree of naturall endowments, if there be sufficiency thereof inherent in any Woman to preferre her to that state and condition, with what greater priviledge can Nature adorne her chiefest Favourites, than with capacity to attaine to that which is the end of their Creation; but, as I like you in that you have not trod in the beaten-road of common Flatterers, so I must tell you, you have trod beside the path which leads to verity; for, I fall short of those demerits which you speake of, witnesse your owne judgment.

Favorinus looks into the Garden, and askes her, if that Window were not a Dore that opened into those Walks?

Bisalta said, Yes: and opened it immediately, which gave them both leave (a breast) to change the closer for the open ayre.

Favorinus measuring the Gravel-walke with his paces awhile, at last he makes a stand, and with his Cane in his hand makes a Circle upon the ground, inclosing himselfe as a tittle in that round [☉] where he thus speaks unto his Widow, Madame, thus it is in short, now I am to be had; but if ever I step one step out of this Circle, if there were no more Men in the world, no Woman alive should have me.

And as he was going to step out of the round, she bids him, Hold; asking him, Sir, shall I not speake in vaine? will you not refuse your selfe my Husband, if I should now say, I am your Wife?

Favorinus engages his Honour, that she should not, if without any de­layes she gave her full consent, and tooke him whilst he was in the hu­mour.

[Page 114] Then (said Bisalta) Sir, I am yours, and all my Fortunes as much at your disposall as my selfe.

Agreed (said Favorinus.)

And pull'd her within the line of Communication, where they plighted their Troths to one another, calling their Servants to stand by as Witnesses, and the Gods to sit in presence; where we must leave them for a while, to trace the Successes of Bertaldo and Berontus in their Adventures.

CHAP. XIX.

AS to the first, Bertaldo had no sooner arrived at Porto Sancta Maria, and acquir'd convenience for his com­portment to Cogolludo, the Duke of Medina Coeli his Mansion house, in the Kingdome of Toledo, but he could hear how that all Spaine was up in Armes; and then upon the generall designe of Expulsing the Moores. It rejoyced Bertaldo exceedingly, that occasion was given him, of meriting the acquaintance of that truth, the invention whereof was his sole imployment. Wherefore, without any other ex­postulations with him (for the present) he tells him who he was, and that he came to offer his Service in this Expedition: and withall, let him not be ignorant how it had been his Trade: And (as modestly as he could) told him, with what Successes his good Fortune had beene Crown'd in former Victories against that Nation.

Coeli makes it known unto him how much he acknowledged him­selfe Honour'd with that tendure; and although the Ancient Family of the Cerda's acknowledg'd him to be the Chief, and his Bloud no lesse Royall, than the Potent Kings of Castile have acknowledg'd his descent; yet he must submit to him that writ himself Newphew to the Emperour of the World; and that he should not onely Command him, but bespeak his own Commands.

I here intend no description of Battailes, or to speak, [COMME UN CLERC DES ARMES] it shall suffice, that Bertaldo had such a Command as deserv'd his Conduct, and fitted his mind; where­with he behav'd himselfe so Gallantly (in that Bloudy and last day of Battaile, that ever was fought betweene the daring Spaniards, and the most Barbarous and Bloudy Moores) that he not onely got [Page 115] immortall Honour (especially in that dayes Service) to the amaze­ment of those Gallant soules, (I mean the Spaniards) who are never sparing in giving Worth (the just reward of prayses) in what Coun­tryman soever the desert is found, and as wary in putting Palmes in­to their owne natives Hands where they are claimed, but with the least doubt of merit) having once rescued their King from eminent danger, twice thrust his Launce through the maine body of the Tawny Monster; and at last, when Coeli's Son had lost his life in the Cause, and by his death had gained his Friends the Victory. Bertaldo would not suffer the sacrifice to be of none effect; but gave the Moores (quickly) to understand, that his Bloud was Poyson to their hopes, Gaul and Vineger to their Thirst; and every drop, Periods to their Successes.

Thus Spaine formerly lost by Lust, and entred by these Moores, in at the sides of a lascivious ravisher, was Re-instated by means of a Chast Virgin.

Bertaldo having acted his part so well, Coeli was not backward to Honour him with the highest respects that could be imagined, among the rest he express'd upon occasion a great deal of willingnesse to serve his merits.

Bertaldo reply'd, That it lay in his power to doe him that Curtesie, that would be the most acceptable favour of any thing that lay in his power to grant, or his, to ask.

Coeli asked him what it was, and told him it should be granted?

I ask you nothing (said Bertaldo) but that you would give me truth.

Coeli bid him onely aske and have, find and take.

Then I ask you upon your Honour: Had you not a Daughter who was called Periissa, mark't with the Sun and Moon upon her Arme? Have you not put this Daughter from you? was she not carried into a strange Country? and will you not re-call her back againe? or how long doe you intend she shall be forsaken?

Coeli admires the perspicuity of that Mystery, and tells him, That for truth sake he would not dececeive him, and for his promise sake he would not utterly relinquish her; telling him moreover, he did it but to humble the Mother that bare her, and to lead his Child through adver­sity, that she might attaine to that perfection of humility, of which he hop'd by this time she was mistresse of: assuring him, that though she seem'd to be out of his sight, and he might seeme to hide his face from her, yet his providence was never wanting in the supply of such necessa­ries as were expedient for her, though she knew not whence they came, and that now the time was come for her recallment; her only Brother being dead, and she all the Children he had living.

But Bertaldo (said the Duke) how came you to understand all this?

Onely by hearing, seeing, and believing (said Bertaldo) by hearkning to Adminda's voice; by seeing the Signes and Wonders upon her Armes, and by believing both.

Coeli ask'd him, Have you not brought a Petition with you, as well as a Narration?

[Page 116] Bertaldo said I have, and it is soone said. I desire your Daughter.

Coeli reply'd, and it is as soone granted: She is yours, and all that Coeli has to give; but you must have her upon this one condition.

I will performe it what ever it be, if it be possible (said Bertaldo.)

To which Coeli made no other reply but this: Thus possible it is, you must lose no time in the accomplishment of your owne desires.

That I may not (said Bertaldo) I take my leave to be obedient to your Commands: so departed: and finding that Prince of the Ayre to blow contrary winds in the full face of his designe, he feared it would be construed negligence to attend that favour: wherefore he cross'd the Perenean and Alpian Mountaines to overcome a difficulty, and the better to crosse that Mediterranean, that deny'd him passage all along; where behold this faithfull diligence made him fortunate in an exploit beyond his expectation; for, Berontus having arrived at Rome, about the time that the fatall houre of the Gothes destruction was drawing on, being entertain'd under the Emperour Honorius, and having conditions answering his dignity, he hapned to be an instru­ment whereunto the glory of that day owned its chief acknowledg­ment; so that the Emperialists having twice beaten the Gothes in two severall Combates; at last, the Eagle with her large-spread-wings made these Tramantanean birds fall upon the Italian earth, and lie full low at the feet of her owne Alpes; Alarick perceiving himselfe thrice worsted, and at last necessitated to seek unto the Streights mouthes to be received into their protections; the Alpian Bandites (together with all the Inhabitants of the White Region, and Travellers in that Galaxie or Milky-way of Heaven-treaders under their feet, those cloud-over-topping, sky-threatning, and heaven-aspiring parcels of earth) hearing of this newes, (like so many black Ravens, Kites, and Crowes, assembled themselves in expectation of the fall of some sick and dying beast) were thus prepared to watch their opportuni­ties, how they might make a prey of the remainder of this bleeding Army; but their Tumults wanted policy and good conduct, which could not be wanting assoone as Bertaldo was come amongst them; who hearing the newes, offered his service. They knowing the Man, were more glad than willing to be commanded by him: he disposes of them in such a manner, as they prov'd such a Remora to the Ship of their proceedings, that it was soone overtaken by the pursuing Enemy, who being van'd and rear'd with Enemies alike, flankt on both sides with invincible Rocks and Mountaines, they were all there slaine, taken Prisoners, and made a prey to those, who were not enough to reap the benefit of so great a harvest.

Berontus wondred who it should be, that should stop so fierce a tor­rent, and give battaile to despaire. Bertaldo wondred who it should be that should fall on with such a maine: and who should these two be, but the two devoted Servants to true Piety and Virtue, able at any time to conquer more than Men, and to be more than Conquerours.

They saluted one another, having time enough upon their march [Page 117] between that and Rome, to recite all their severall passages to one ano­ther, who were both confident, that their endeavours derived their successes from the prayers of Innocents.

Both of them resolving upon the way to begge that boone of the Emperour, upon their first arrivall, to know of Honorius how Ama­rissa was his Neece, and Bertaldo's Sister? but their thoughts were more resolv'd than their resolution was requisite; for, the whole bu­sinesse concerning Amarissa was generally knowne amongst the Ro­manes, before Berontus his returne to Rome: and thus it came about. Flaccus, Brother to the Emperour Honorius, had a pretty Daughter who was bewitched, being a Childe at Nurse, into extreame defor­mity, who fearing the perpetuity of that Enchantment (which was but for a time) he forthwith made his Brother the Emperour ac­quainted with the disaster; who unwilling that such an ey-sore should be visible upon so unblemisht a race of humane kinde, as he supposed his owne to be, advis'd his Brother to send her away into some foraine Countrey, and to give such a summe of Money with her, as some selected one for the same purpose would be glad of; who thereby might thinke themselves sufficiently engag'd, as well for secresie, as maintenance. Accordingly Flaccus found out a fit instrument to worke upon, one Galeas, a needy Sea-man, belonging to Cheru a poore fishing-towne upon the coasts of Affrica, within six leagues of Carthage, where Amarissa was fostred up under the wel-enabled and vigilant care of Galeas Wife seven yeares; at the end of which tearme, the Spell ha­ving lost its virtue, Amarissa came to her former feature, and her Princely countenance received its proper lineaments of majestie, which together with the pregnant wit wherewith she was more than liberally endowed by the gifts of nature, so wrought upon her Nurse, that she was more tender of her than of any of her owne Children; so tender that she never reveal'd that secret unto her, as her being not her owne: and riper yeares making her more capable of further know­ledge, and enabling her with more cunning to get out more, her Nurse at last confest unto her, that she was some great Mans Childe, but she could not tell her whose, in regard that her Husband was cast away at sea, before she had got the rest out of him, withall shewing her the Mantle wherein she was delivered unto her Husband; whose no lesse antiquity than richnesse with its curious wrought (yet worn out) Ensigns of majesty, spake it a cast Ornament out of some Princes Wardrobe; this was all the Card, wherein she could possibly read her Pedegraee, this was all the Records whereby she could come to the knowledge of her Ancestors: the drie Nurse had nothing more to say, but that she knew no more, and wish'd she could doe her any service, whereby she might attaine to the knowledge of her owne Parents.

Amarissa climbing up apace to the yeares of discretion, this ten­der Sapling at the first bearing, yeilded these fruits of Policy, graf­ted upon the stock of her owne invention; For, (said she) unto her Nurse-Mother (for so she alwaies call'd her) I have heard you often [Page 118] say, that your Husband had receiv'd me at the hands of a Romane Ma­tron; more than that, either he could not say, or would not tell you; it will not avail us (now) to be inquisitive after that matter, since he is dead who onely could decide the businesse; but this I would faine supplicate to your indulgent care and love that's alwaies exercis'd in my behalfe a Crosse the Seas, goe to Rome, carry the Mantle with you, and see who will owne it, know whose Armes they be, what the signification of those Hiero­glyphicks are: and when you have inform'd your selfe as much as you can, or can thereby come to the knowledge of whose it was, tell them how that Mantle wrapt a little Childe that was enchanted by some Sorcery or Magick Spell, whose craft has now lest working the Cast-away is Fourteen years of age, and hath her growth, limbs, and lineaments, with features which they may behold without regret, if they would be pleased to owne their Childe.

Gans [...]la (for so the Nurse was call'd) was mervailously taken with the Exploit, infinitly commending her wisdome and advice, but com­mends her most of all by putting it in execution: Beyond-sea she goes, she and her Mantle; to Rome she comes, up and down the street she trapes, shewing it to this body and to that; at last she was taken upon suspition of Felonie, clapt up in Prison, brought to her Triall, where Flaccus himselfe sitting upon the Bench, heard her relate (in her owne defence) all the particulars as is before exprest, stands her Friend, and stickles so much in her behalf, that her Tale was credi­ted; but he would not owne the Mantle, which he caused to be taken from her, nor the Child he would not send for; so great a power has shame over delinquency, rather (against the bonds of nature) to run into a twofold Errour, than acknowledge one: yet nature wrought this effect in him, he sends for the Woman privately, and communes with her, at a distance, concerning Amarissa; satisfies him selfe fully in the businesse, commends her for her good will and care, rewards her highly, tells her nothing, but advises her to counsel her foster­Child to be contented with her condition untill such time as opportu­nity should serve, and sit season give her information whose she was: For his owne part he was a Friend, that would not let her want so long as she could be silent, sending her such a summe of money as he cared not who tooke notice of; but withall, inclosing within a Ca­binet sealed up, and boorded about, wherein was enclosed jewells of inestimable value, with this Letter in it:

This Letter was thus superscrib'd, ‘For the forlorne, yet acceptable AMARISSA.’

[Page 119] With these Instructions and satisfactions Ganzala return'd to Af­frica, delivers Amarissa her mind together with the Money she was entrusted with, who thought she had delivered all, together with the Cabinet, which she tooke to be no more than an ordinary Box; which when Amarissa had opened (all alone) having observ'd that policy stampt upon the Seals, she found no lesse treasure (of inestim­able value) in the Cabinet, than a Cabinet in the Letter, beyond all estimation both for secrefie and counsell, whose private boxes she was not able to finde out. Thus farre satisfied (as it was enough at once) she rests contented, rather pleasing her selfe with present hopes of future revelation (in its due time) then tormenting her selfe with preposterous scrutinie into the seldome-solid grounds of anticipation, she went as farre as reason would give her leave, and commands what common sence witnesseth to be within her power, she gave her selfe what Education money would purchase, and wore as good cloathes as price could reach, when both had made her a Companion for the best, she thought her self beholding to those for her acceptance who were beneath her equalls, by valuing others Jewels she came to know the price of her owne, at last (having more than ordinary parts) there was more than ordinary notice taken of her perfection, inso­much, that she was presented (as a speciall rarity) to the old Princesse, who dying, Prince Lorenzo entertain'd as the greatest beauty, till Honoria her over matching and comely feature let him know, that there was a beauty surpassing that, which could not be excell'd but by her owne flesh and blood, where having brought her off and on Lo­renzo's love, in and out of Bertaldo's armes, we will make her amends in making haste to place her in Berontus's bosome, and agree all Par­ties, after that we have brought Bertaldo and Berontus home from Rome.

After three yeares time had made Honorius's condition no lesse de­sperate than his whole Empire shaken by that terrible invasion of the Gothes, it fortuned that Flaccus (having received his deaths-wound & in the Enemies custody) desired the priviledge of his barbarous Ene­my, that he might be permitted to write a Letter to his Brother the Emperour? which being granted unto him, his dying-hand set pen to paper that writ this Letter to Honorius:

Flaccus dying almost with the pen in his hand, the Gothish King perceiving the contents of the Letter, and nothing desirous to contri­bute the least assistance to the removall of any judgments from over his head, whose destruction was his design, conceal'd the Letter: such fallings short are men incident to meet withall, who procrastinate their amendments, and leave their good Deeds to be performed by their Exe­cutors.

But Berontus, Amynda's Favourite, Fortune's Minion, Fortitudes Piller, and Heire to Justice, must bring all these things to light; for, in the first Battaile that ever he struck with the Emperour against the Gothes, he seiz'd the Gothish Kings Pavilion, wherein amongst other Papers, after that Berontus had received Orders to prosecute the Gothes, the Emperour (at leisure) found this Letter, sent for the Ju­stice, shewed him the Letter, view'd the Mantle, wherein were scarce (distinctly) perceiv'd the Emperours Armes, the black-spread-Eagle, who had lost its colour, very little of whose body could be perceiv'd, onely the head and part of both the wings might be discern'd, the border round about it quite worne out, onely the titulary Letters were plaine and legible: In a word, by that time Bertaldo and Berontus were return'd to Rome, being received as triumphantly by the Empe­rour, as joyfully by the People, they were entertain'd with revelati­ons, for all things were made ready to their hands, there needed but little examinations where confessions were so plaine, records so evi­dent, and witnesses so palpable in their demonstrations: but to make haste to Carthage.

CHAP. XX.

BErtaldo and Berontus, the one having received many Favours from his Royall Uncle; the other Acknow­ledgements that he was his Nephew, like two skales equally poiz'd by the hand of Justice, (one fill'd with Weight, the other with Value) both returne to Car­thage, where we imagine them unloading themselves (of the glad Ty­dings that were such Burthens to them) till they had thrown them off their retentive faculty into their Mistresses eares.

Have you seene, or can you imagine, how an Usurer welcomes full Bags of Gold (in their telling) when they are paid unto him (with all their interest) out of some desperate Debt? So satisfi'd were the expectations of these Votaries, with the Relation that they made, and the good Account that they had given them in every particular.

Never before this time were all the Blockers knockt out of the way for the well-delivered Bowle (fairly) to take its course, Court and Kisse its Mislresse, sent from the never-erring hand of Provi­dence.

Bertaldo takes Periissa by the Hand, and thus speakes unto her: Periissa, the Blessing of Heaven, the Joy of the whole Earth, the Fruit of Paradise, natures Excellency; the Ornament of Humility, the Mir­rour of Chastity, the Ne plus ultra, to the degrees of Love; whose Mer­rit is above my Recompence! constancy denyes an imitation, whose value hath no Price! whose self so good, that Flatteries can neither hurt, nor Hyperboles reach! How happy am I in answering thy so well -contrived affections with a compleat furniture for so fair a roome! here let me take a Chamber for eternity, and let no time out me from possession of this Happinesse!

Periissa answers this Speech with admiration, and lookes answers 'fore she speakes; at last she findes the doore of utterance.

Bertaldo (said Periissa) how happy hath my supposed unworthinesse made this equality between us! how great a friend hath my despaire been to this our Union! None can rejoyce at the comfortablenesse of Fire, but he that comes out of the Cold; none can be glad of Meat, but he that is a Hungry; and none can slack his Thirst, but he that was a-dry: Colours cannot be better commended than by their contraries; nor Miracles more taken notice of, than by impossibilities. Wherefore [Page 122] the wise Creator in manifesting his omnipotence, rais'd a glorious Light from Darknesse; drew Method from Confusion; Order from the Chaos: and at last, compos'd a Firmament of the weakest of all elements. Such a patterne hath Bertaldo followed; now he hath rais'd his Periissa from such weak hopes, to so firme a confidence, whilst she was in so dark a condition, to shine with so bright a Lustre in his Eyes; and through impossibilities to cut out, and plaine away for my accession to this Throne: Wherefore, ever let my chiefest care to please you be my Crown; and all my Passions, my Subjects.

Whilst Bertaldo and Periissa were courting one another, and both congratulating their good Fortune; smiling upon the Starres that showr'd downe their choicest influence upon their Heads: Berontus and Amarissa thus all the while bestowed themselves in their beha­viour and language. Berontus tooke his Amarissa by the hand, whose sprightly behaviour answered the tacture, with like affection, as when good conceits meet with quaintest wits; whereby it becomes a hard matter to discerne whether of both are better pleas'd, the giver, or receiver. Both these make one pastime, these both one happinesse, and thus he speakes unto her:

Amarissa, the maine engine from whom the wheel of Fortune bor­rowes its motion; the Ball whom Envie tosses above its owne head by spurning at it; the Vine that gives it selfe its education, and can exhale nourishment out of its owne body without the usuall, and outward bark of Parents: how pleasing are the remembrances of those things which were so hard to suffer? how contentfull are the atchievements which break their way through difficulties? was ever Love unfetter'd so as mine hath been? were ever Hearts unchain'd as ours? was there ever so fast a Knot untyed before? did ever any Act passe so farre beyond all hope?

Amarissa, there is a Joy that may be express'd, there is a Joyful­nesse that can hardly be uttered; but the gladnesse that affects me in ha­ving you, hath no Language: wherefore all must now lie at the mercy of your belief; believe but half of that that is, and your belief surpasses all imagination. To which Amarissa reply'd,

Berontus, in answer to your Metaphors and Compellations, I could call you Heire to Justice; Amynda's Favourite, Fortitudes right Hand, Fortunes Minion, the Peoples Darling: But I conceive more felicity in saying, My Berontus, which includes all that can be said: And for your doubt of my belief, Alas! I have an Inmate in my breast, that leads my Faith by the hand, like a Child, and shewes me all the secrets of your Heart: No Berontus, thou hast met with roome enough to hoard up all thy store of Merit, if thou thinkest the place worthy of it.

Whilst Bertaldo and Periissa, Berontus and Amarissa were gemi­nating Hearts and Soules, Hortensius and Pippea standing at a di­stance, ape one another into their similitude and likenesse; Hortensius takes Pippea by the Hand, who receives his Curtesie with such a kind of Laughter, as Country Lasses cannot chuse but make when they first ride in Chariots, which hath not its proceedence from ridicu­lousnesse, [Page 123] but from a mixture of joy and bashfulnesse, to see them­selves so highly grac'd above their merits, and thus he spake unto her:

Pippea, Why may there not be as much sincerity and affection express'd by sticking a Cowslip or a Gilliflower within thy breast, as there can be either in the choicest Tulip, or the most fragrant Rose? as they are not altogether so beautiful and delightfull to some of the sences, so they offend none; whereas the high-priz'd Tulip has no savour, and the sweet Rose growes upon such Prickles as oftentimes offends the touch, often causing the same fingers to bleed soarly that pluckt them from their stalks.

Why talks my Hortensius thus to me? (said Pippea) there are Ladyes­gloves, Silver-haire, and Marigolds to be found in the Common-fields, which are not in Ladyes gardens; let them plume the corners of their beds with gilded-feathers, whilst we border ours with daysies and ever­lasting.

Whilst these three paire of Lovers were courting one another, Lo­renzo and Honoria could not use any language for hearkning to what they had said, nor other behaviour for observing theirs: both were exceeding glad to see the corne so fluster upon the ground that was sowed by their hands, and come to such maturity as required their sickle to be thrust into their harvest, that should cut downe the loose eares that were open to further discourse, that they might be bound up in the band of unity: wherefore Lorenzo and Honoria appoint the time of Marriage, and that, no longer then the day that followed; they send for the Heraulds, and asked their advice about the manner of the solemnity, charging them, that it might be performed with the greatest state and magnificence that lay within the power of art and cost to set it forth.

The Heraulds answered, that all things were in a readinesse, that preparation it self could set in order; but there was one thing requisite, which if it could be effected, nothing could more conduce to make it so­lemne, viz: that these solemnities might have their shadowes, and these paires their seconds; which (they said) might be easily done if they in­tended Marriages betweene Favorinus and Bisalta, Hortensius and Pippea might have such accelerations as they might all meet in parallels upon the same day.

The proposition pleased the Princes well, and the Ladyes most of all; it was so order'd by Lorenzo, whose commands plain'd all diffi­culties, and cut off all delayes: The Parties were sent for; sent for, came; no sooner there, but all agreed: Corderius made a moti­on to all the Company, that to his knowledge there were a Couple to be Married, and the time appointed was but the day after the morrow whereon these solemnities were to be performed, he saw no reason but that they should take them also into the number that the Temple might be full: They all consented, and were earnest to know who they were? and being told them, who should it be, but poor Prickette and Rivana; [Page 124] joy, and mirth, and willingnesse, were expressed all at once for his re­ception: A Herauld at Armes was sent to Prickette to summon him to the Wedding, and to command him to be ready on the morrow with his Sweet-heart, to be Married with the rest.

The Heraulds having ended their debatements concerning the particular Ceremonies, it was concluded, that Bertaldo and Berontus should have Banners carried before them, wherein were curiously re­presented all the famous deeds of Chivalry that had been perform'd by those Heroes, when they most quench'd their thirsting after fame, and so they were to make a most solemne procession up to the Temple of Virtue; and through it, to the Temple of Honour; where such uni­ons were to be made as divided themselves into halves to be wholly one anothers: But, as for Favorinus and Bisalta, Hortensius and Pippea, whose utmost merits aym'd at no higher perfection than mo­rallity, their ascendent was to be no higher than to the Temple of Vir­tue, and there to consummate their Vowes, where the totall summe of all their merits would not arise in their particulars to any tearmes of Honour: But, Prickette and Rivana they were to goe no farther than to the portch of the Temple, there to content themselves with com­patible solemnities.

This Conclusion, was no small occasion of much distraction; for, Bisalta (a Woman of a high spirit) was not a little displeas'd that she should wed her selfe to a Man of no atchievements, and to one that could not lead her up the steps of Honour, so that at last she began to swell bigger with scorne than when he scorn'd her first: and thus she openly exprest her discontents before all the Company, Must I bestow my selfe, and smile a fortune upon a Man that can answer my de­serts with no higher advance to than set me downe at Virtue's feet? whose Temple as it is a thorow-fare to Honours, I like full-well; but as it is a confine, I like the Seat no more than if he had sate me upon the Stoole of sad Repentance. I thought (when I saw him first (active as lightning) get up upon his flying Horse) he had been able to have pluckt bright Honour from the pale-fac'd Moone; but now, I see, that Hares and Partridges, were the Trophees of his greatest Victories: she could be no more contented with that beggarly glory, than Eagles could make it their repast to catch at Flies.

Nor was this all, for Pippea takes her Sweet-heart Hortensius a­side, and tells him, Hortensius, thou art an honest man, but that is all: what a fine thing it would have been if thou hadst done some famous act whereby we two might have been Married in the Temple of Honour with Bertaldo and Periissa, Berontus and Amarissa? I love thee well al­ready, but if thou hadst been a martiall Man, Oh how happy should I have been!

Why (said Hortensius) what is that to love? why should Women be so much in love with bloody hands?

Oh (said Pippea) they are not bloody except they be stain'd with un­lawfull blood! he that knowes how to conquer Men, knowes how to de­fend [Page 125] a Womans honour: who would Marry a Milk-sop? Hortensius, canst thou not doe one gallant exploit or other, and let Marrying alone for awhile? I would faine be Married in the Temple of Honour, I will promise thee that I will love thee twice as much, and doe any thing for thee that thou wilt have me doe.

Hortensius (put off and on two such businesses as neither lik'd him) was not a little troubled: yet he was contented enough to make a virtue of necessity, and climbe to Honour through that ascent, but he wanted an opportunity, which was presently offer'd him, for behold, Whil'st these affaires were in agitation, there came a hot and stinging alarum to the Court, that young Towolin, Emperour of the Abissines, had invaded the Dominion, and entred farre into the Countrey with a mighty Army, in pursuance of his Fathers Quarrell; this sudden newes lock'd up the Temple gates, and tooke their resolutions off the hinges: for, neither of those two Worthies thought it gallantry to creep to happinesse between a paire of sheets, whil'st the Enemy had colours flying in the field that invited them to honour and safety: and Periissa perceiving how Planet-strucken Favorinus and Hortensius were through want of merit, (to answer the expectations of their en­vious Mistresses) she encourages them to resolutions that should wrest the wreath of Bayes out of the hand of fame, and with as much ease as if she had been a Childe had held it in her hand. Favorinus and Hortensius, fir'd with hope, and fill'd with confidence, knowing, that a better School Mistresse could not direct them in that discipline, were resolv'd to follow her instructions whatsoever they were, verily believing, that nothing could be found impossible or difficult that she call'd easie; wherefore they desir'd her to lay her commands upon them, and to acquaint them with the designe, and she should see that the fault should not lye in them, but (if any were) in her who was never faulty. She declares it to them, (which we will forbeare to expresse till the act showes) they like it well, all was in a readinesse; the Army is drawne out and face each other: who but Favorinus, and Horten­sius! all the common Souldiers, and inferiour Officers, admire to see them sent to; and running in and out so often to and from the Councell of Warre; some jearingly ask'd one another, If Favorinus had e're a Hawke to flie? Others said, If there were but a Hare in his way, how bravely would he charge the Enemy, with a cry of Doggs? Others jear'd Hortensius, and ask'd, What have we to doe with this Gardener here? what? is he sent for to the Councell of Warre? Others answering, that sure he was sent for to line the hedges: Others saying, If all yonder Regiments were but so many private Bushes, how bravely would he top their heads with his Garden shears! Thus idle Courtiers, and upstart Favourites, must be contented to be jeer'd when they are out of their clement, the courted, till they have made themselves fa­mous by some exploits, and then they stop the mouthes of their Ad­versaries.

But to the businesse it selfe, Favorinus and Hortensius, according [Page 126] to Periissa her directions, black their hands and faces with an unguent which she had given them, and so under a two-fold darknesse of night and hue, repaire to the Enemies Camp, and never left moving from place to place untill they came to the Emperours Tent; where watching their opportunity (when the Emperour was least attended) they entred the Pavilion, where Favorinus, slayes the Emperour; and Hortensius, the Standard-bearer; together with the Emperour's Page; which were all the heads, that the Tent ore-covered at that instant: the chief whereof Favorinus cuts from the body, and Hor­tensius takes the Standard in his hand, as Favorinus did the head, wherewith they both mounted on Horseback, exhorting the Soul­diers to stand to their Armes, crying out, the Enemy is upon us! the Officers and Souldiers (taking them to be some of the chief Com­manders, but could not informe themselves in the darke, they stan­ding not still to give information) take the alarum: Trumpets sound to Horse, the Drums beat. Lorenzo, by this disorder, knew that the worke was done; and (according as they had layd the de­signe) fell upon the Moores; who running to their Emperour to re­ceive Orders, found him without a head; by reason of which confu­sion, the Carthaginians soone devour'd that headlesse Monster, as if so many hounds had seiz'd upon a new-falne stagge: thus was that great Army soone dissolv'd by the two constant Followers of Periissa her direction; who returning from the Warres, Favorinus being poeticall given, straines his Genius that way to frame these Verses in honour of his Directresse:

Now the Marrriages run on wheels, and the compleat Armour must give way to wedding Garments; Gantlets must be throwne aside to put on wedding Gloves, and plumes of feathers bend whilst head-pieces doe vail to bonnets stuck with bridal-favors. Now all must into the Temple of Honour; Favorinus must have the black head of the darke Empe­rour, carried before him: Hortensius the Standard that he tooke; all was ayre, and light, and fire, and sunnes, and moones, and starres: [Page 127] onely Prickette and Rivana they were dull, and earth, and heavy; having no merit to lay claime to Virtue or Honour, they were (likely) to lose their shares in the glory of the day.

Wherefore, Rivana told her Sweet-heart (plainly) that She would not be Married in a Portch, she saw no reason but that he was as good a Man as Hortensius, and if he was not, it was his owne fault, he might have been if he would: why did he not goe into the Warres, and doe as he did? for her part, she hated a Man that was good for nothing: and if he would needs Marry in a Portch let him get one that would, for she would not be made a laughing-stock for the best of them all. Oh that she were a Man she would have been Married in the Temple of Honour, or else she would have been wedded to her grave!

This Speech made Prickette soarly lament and repent that he had been so negligent in laying hold of opportunities (when they were offered him) to have done some glorious act whereby he might be famous.

He considers with himself, and repaires unto the Herauld, and layes before him the misery of his condition, offering him a large summe of money, if he could finde out some way, or plead his case so, that he might be Married in the Temple of Honour, or else he was sure to lose his Mistresse for ever.

The Herauld told him, that there was no way except he could fight a Duell with some knowne Worthy, and so come off with honour, and in such a case he had a private conveyance where he could shew him how he might convey his Mistresse into the Temple, and there when he was once got in, it was the manner of the place, that none should be excluded; and he would plead the priviledge of the Temple in his behalf if need re­quired.

Prickette did not like the Proposition very well, yet that was all he could get of the Herauld: away he goes, telling him, that he would see what he could doe, resolving to be quarrelsome with any living soule that should give him (but) the least occasion; for, he was re­solv'd not to endure that life whatsoever came of it: up and downe he goes seeking occasion, where at last under the walls of Carthage he lights into a grot, where one Hamon (a notable Kill-cow and noted Dueller, and one who had formerly put an afront upon him) was drinking and making merry with some others of his Companions: Prickette comes in, and tells them, he was dispos'd to be merry.

The Company answered him, that they were dispos'd to bid him welcome.

But Hamon look'd something surly upon Prickette, and he upon Hamon.

At last when wine had begun to ripen both their humours, Pric­kette begins to vapour.

Hamon tells him, that lesser sayle would serve his vessell.

Prickette answered him, That if that displeas'd him he would set up more, and yet not over-set, for any big wind his words could make.

[Page 128] Hamon perceiving him to grow so fast upon him, asked him, if he remembred such a time, when he put such an Affront upon him?

Prickette told him, That he remembed it very well, and therefore he took this opportunity to question him for it.

Hamon told him, he took a very ill time to question him, when it was Night; and that he doubted he would not be so valiant in the Mor­ning.

Prickette told him, That if he thought so, he would fight with him presently, it was as dark for the one as tother, happy man be his Dole. But the Company would not suffer them: and Prickette found many friends, because he was a Courtier, and one that might be made some use of; wherefore Prickette pretended a willingnesse to be re­concil'd, that he might enjoy his opportunity to whisper Hamon in his Ear; who had his desire, and privately challenged Hamon to come out, and fight with him; telling him, That he would take an occasion to goe out, as if he meant to turne his face to the Wall, and then he should come after him, and they would have a Crash. Hamon consented to it, out goes Prickette, and climes up to the top of a Rock, whereon the foundation of the City-wall was laid; after him comes Hamon (no man suspecting any such matter) and drawes his Sword, and askes Where art thou? Now Prickette had him between him and the light, so that he could easily discerne him; but Hamon (newly come out of the light, and having it behind him) could not see before him: So that he still cry'd, Where art thou? Where is this Fellow? Prickette still cry'd, Here: Why don't you come on? Untill such time as he had got him just under him, and then he leaps upon his Neck and Shoul­ders, and beares him to the ground; puts his Shoulder out of joynt, Disarmes him; cryes aloud, Call for mercy (thou Villaine) or I will be the death of thee.

The Company hearing a noise, all run out with Candles in their hands, and there they find Prickette upon the Gyant: They all take him off of him. Hamon cryes, O I am soarly bruis'd, and my Bones are out of joynt! Sirrah, had it been in the day thou shouldst never have done this: I protest I saw him not, but he came upon me all of the suddaine, I knew not how, nor which way. O my Arme! my Shoulder is out of Jont, my Neck is Bruis'd, my Head is Broken! Who would have thought there had been so much strength in such a little Urchin!

Prickette told him, That if he thought the Night had been any dis­advantage to him, he should doe well to take the advantage of the Day, he would answer him.

No (said Hamon) I think you have given me enough for all the dayes of my life.

All began to admire Prickette, every body thought Prickette a Gallant Man; who but Prickette was cry'd up for a daring fellow. Prickette repaires to the Herauld, brings his witnesses, tells him what he had done: The Herauld bids him leave the management of the rest to him, and bring his Rivana along with him, much about the time of [Page 129] the Solemnity, and he would conveigh them a way where they should not need to go through the Temple of Vertue, but passe through the Preroga­tive, into the Temple of Honour.

Now because I will not end my story with relations of Wedding Garments, or suffer my pen to be so neare of kinne to feathers in a bed as to write their happinesses upon its Sheets, I shall onely bring these Worthies into the sacred Temple, and there leave them in a place of glory & honour, into a place that was all light & had no windows, such a light as receiv'd its lustre from the flames of hearts and melting soules burning in the fire of love, which were upon & under the Altar, whose Quire was pav'd with precious Stones, where Diamonds were set in Characters, whereby Letters of Light were so compos'd that every foot that gave a step made impression upon Eternity. In the midst of which Temple there was a sea of blisse, and Angels moving upon the face of the water, whose oares were wings and boates ubi­quities, and every stroake that plash'd upon those waters of life gave both life and musick: all the Temple was covered over with repre­sentations of the Triple Deity (by whom Ovid swore) curiously done in Mosaick worke with the bright and shining scales of Fishes taken out of that sea, all three supporting the same Looking-glasse with their right hands, wherein were to be seen pleasures, and round about it written the word FOR EVERMORE. Into this glorious Temple the Heraulds lead these loving Paires, and placed them in their seve­rall seates of rotten, but now shining wood; upon one side whereof was written Mortallity; and upon the other, Corruption upon armes whose hands laid hold upon the seates, as if they were ready to teare them in sunder. After that the high Priest had made an end of offe­ring, and perform'd the holy Rites, there descended from above a Commission and a Pen which an Angel received and delivered it in­to the high Priests hands, who presented both to Periissa; which Commission was that that Pen should write, I'm before Mortallity, and In before Corruption: so the same power made the same hands as stayes to secure their blessed state, which formerly had been the causes of their dissolutions: And thus we end our History with the heavenly Choristers, singing this Antheme: