CORALBO was gone to accompany the valiant Lindadori and her Parents at their departure from Memphis: When, he being left alone, found him­selfe enflamed by the fire of this reverberating absence, in the same manner, as things here on Earth use to be enflamed, more by the Sunnes reflection, then by the Sunne it self. Her presence had till now, kept him from those paines which grew in an instant, like a dolefull birth, of such a privation nourished by the overflowing milk of fancy. There was not any sensible thing in him, which, to aggravate the sence, did not make an exact scrutiny of those desired perfections. His memory represented unto him his confusions, his darknesses, and in the thickest of them, the Altar con­secrated to the Idol of those faire eyes, which having formerly been objects of astonishment and delight, were now become unto him ob­jects onely of necessity and desire. It was objected unto him, that he had evill resolved himself, and that the covetous desire of Kingdoms and jealousie of honour (for the most part vicious and vaine) had more prevailed with him, then a maidens desert, worthy to be pre­ferred to all the Crowns and Honours in the world; her selfe being a sufficient crown and honour to any one, who should have the for­tunate happinesse to possesse her, and whose lot it might be to be crowned with her love, a Crown far exceeding any other Diadem. He came to the Court late, and though imagined he had at other times seene it, yet that very thought seemed fallacious to him; so naked it [Page 2]appeared bare of that Ornament (which in his opinion) was the very height and transcendency of its beauty. Nor could any one that saw so much mutation in him, penetrate into the cause of it. It was ima­gined, his melancholly proceeded from the losse of his companions indifferently: That passion is a virtue, which not to discover it selfe to be love, doth cloath it selfe with the vail of friendship. The Prin­cesse of Cyrene, who had to her first amorous affection (after he was declared Prince) joyned the second of a good opinion, and did so wind about him, and hang upon him, being grieved to see his minde perplexed, that she vexed him even when she imagined with her dal­liances to comfort and cherish him. She thought alone to possesse him, not perceiving that being borne to misfortunes in respect of a lawfull love, all unlawfull ones were momentary and mournful to her: what eye was there ever that could penetrate the Heavens, and with the priviledge of discerning, know the occult characters of divine pro­vidence, unlesse discerning be a perceiving that disordinate affecti­ons never come to any good end, and that the punishment which followes them, though it does not touch the life, yet it ruines mans honour and reputation by an ignominous report? Psemitides failed not in providing of what he judged to be needfull for the undertaking of what he had designed and promised, and wherewith he had threat­ned another, having given order for all things with such facility, that one might easily perceive his long practise in warfaring, had made him free from all irresolutions. And having sent for Celitcazween of Arabia, with the princesse Bell-alba her Daughter to Memphis, hee received them with all such honours, as any raigning Princesses could expect, having already resolved in the secret counsel of his thoughts, that he could not bestow his Daughter Elitrea upon a more worthy Son in law, then Coralbo, who being obliged by affinity and benefits, he promised himself an undoubted secureness within his Dominions, whilst he lived; and after his decease, a potent and faithfull tutele for his eldest Sonne Gradovido. Having ruminated and digested such thoughts in his minde, calling Celitea aside, he thus spake unto her. I am resolved (Madam) to goe very shortly into Arabia for the recupe­ration of your Kingdomes, which I hope to recover with my forces, justified by your rights. But I have resolved first to do a thing, which as it shall be a benefit to you, so will it give me abundance of satis­faction. Your benefit it will be, to encourage and hearten my Souldi­ers in such manner, as that having an interest in your affaires, they may not only willingly expose themselves to the dangers of War, but be as it were obliged to die in your service: Otherwise I might justly have cause to feare, their hope of ransacking and plundering being taken from them (seeing the body of your Dominions must be kept entirely whole for you, as I intend they shall) they will hardly with cheerefulnesse engage or adventure themselves, being deprived of all their military emoluments, and especially they being to fight neither for me, nor for themselves; and Aegypt not to gaine the propriety, nor any benefit of such conquests as it shall gaine with th'expence of [Page 3]its own blood. Then it will be a great satisfaction to me, to make it appeare to the world (which will hardly believe Princes do stirre, unlesse it be for some interest of their owne) that my resolution to aide you, proceeds from a free will: and that if there be any interest, it is worthy my greatnesse, and others commendation. I will give your Sonne Coralbo my Daughter Elitrea to wife, and your Kingdomes (which I will recover at mine owne perill and cost) for a Dowry. If this proposition shall be acceptable to you, it shall much content me, if not, I will not howsoever faile to make trial of my fortune, and the obedience of my subjects without any condition. Celitea who stood all this while suspended, not knowing or imagining to what Psemitides's speeches would tend, would have kneeled to him to give him thanks, but he taking her under the arme, would not suffer it; when she with a Majestick humility, answered him: Sir, though your Maje­stie will not permit me to kisse your hands, which is the duty to which your magnanimity binds me, yet shall not you deny me with a tongue enflamed with affection to give you such thanks as I am able, though all too little, in respect of your transcendent favours. The Gods endowed you with so much prudence, and enriched you with such abundance of curtesie, that to make use thereof, you please to be carelesse of that esteem, which is justly due unto you, for your other transcendent parts. That Scepter which so happily go­verns so many Kingdomes, is held in a hand as powerful as Clement: Your subjects, my Lord, are neither so bare of affection, or armed with power sufficient as to disobey you. Not so little inriched with so many spoiles, attained through your many-fold glorious Victories, that they will pretend either any hopes more worthy then the obey­ing of your commands, or greater profits, then to eternize their re­nown under the unconquered ensignes of your incomparable valour. Wherefore he that should imagine, that need of this should be the motive of this unheard of courtesie, were unworthy to receive it. And as for that which you pretend, under pretext of cautions to ac­cumulate me with favours, it is the utmost can be, not only pretended, but also imagined. Who is it but may perceive, that where such ver­tues are, there can be no roome or place void for any interests? your Majesties head is begirt with so many Diadems, that the addition of more would not onely be supernumerary, but troublesome also. The sublimenesse of this your royal mind, composed ever of magnificent Liberalities, joyned to the innumerable vastnesse of your Treasures, cannot breed in any one such irrational impressions; wherefore what­soever you say or doe for me, will be but a publique Declaration to the world, that you are a King and Monarch without any equall in all manner of vertues. Behold sir, here I am, your servant, together with Coralbo. Dispose of us as you please, goe on in causing Nature to admire, seeing it is your will so to doe, raise your servant to be your Sonne; raise me who am abased by so many misfortunes, to the hap­py title of Mother to your onely Daughter, a Princesse so eminent, to make me happy in serving her. All these will be Miracles, Sir, and if [Page 4]they be not so to you, to whom doing good is an ordinary course of nature, yet will it be so to us, to whom it, receiving any comfort, hath a long time been extraordinary and supernaturall Having thus said, she would againe have made obeysance unto him, but he (having de­creed within himselfe to intreat her, not onely as his equall in degree, but also with all such respect as any courteous Knight might afford to a great Lady) would not suffer it, but holding her up, answered. Ma­dam, The courteous opinion wherewith you please to honour me, as it doth surpass all manner of conception, so can not my duty equal the great desire I have to serve you. If the Gods have been liberall to­wards me of any extraordinary Talent, it was conditionally, that I should employ it for the publique benefit. They did not establish worldly powers to oppresse, but to relieve the oppressed; and though there be some composed of oppressions, yet they are not all such. The different degrees to power, make the difference betweene Powers. Those whose ends were avarice and covetousnesse, had no other meanes to attaine to them, but frauds, corruptions, and hypocrisies: the Gods make use of such for scourges and instruments of wrath amongst mortals. But the others, whose ends are glorious, raised themselves by the onely meanes of fortitude and clemency, by which they represent together with Omnipotency, celestial mercy. In the first, there was never any but nominal peace. In the latter war it selfe promises peace, and subjection, a state of securenesse and rest. Now they having, placed me amongst the latter, and your Kinsman Bramac amongst the first; your protection duely belongs to me, without pre­tence of your any way being obliged unto me. In the meane time, let this marriage be concluded betwixt us, which you shall intimate to Prince Coralbo, and my wife shall speake of it to my Daughter. Celitea lost no time, in communicating of the Kings proffers to her Sonne, thinking to make him lift up his hands to heaven for joy: but the con­trary befalling her, being much perplexed therefore, she having re­proved him for his folly, and shewed him, that a dishonest and hurt­ful affection, ought not to prevaile above the interests of profit and honour, intimating to him by such conceipts, the love of the Prin­cesse of Cirene, in such sort that he might very well perceive it. But Coralbo after a little agitation of the minde, answered her, Madam, I am not so farre divided from my selfe (though I be not throughly my selfe) as to be ignorant of the great good which you offer me, see­ing that of my selfe being poore, and without any state, there is of­fered me, together with an estate, the possession of so great and wor­thy a Princesse. I would smoother my mine evills in silence, if I were not perswaded it might make you believe a thing too dissonant from truth, the bonds whereby I am bound unto you, as my mother and soveraigne being too great to suffer me to be disobedient. The love of the Princesse of Cirene doth not trouble me, and if it should, I could not pretend to make her my wife, she being already married. Here he related unto her the History of Lindadori, his amorous inclinations, how he had resolved to serve her and make her his Lady; but shee [Page 5]not knowing thereof, and he consequently being free, he intended (though unwillingly) to accept of the gift, which at this present was tendred him by fortune, being assured that Elitrea, infected with the same malady, would not consent to it. And because Celitea could not well understand what he would infer thereby, he prosecuted the relation of the comming of Lindadori and Eromena, to that Court in the habit of Knights, and how Eromena having inflamed the Queene, and Lindacori Elitrea, with their loves, he could not esteeme her free to bestow her selfe on any other. Celitea smiled at these casualties, rest­ing well satisfied of her Sonne, who preferring obedience to his youthful affections, had put her out of those doubts which she alrea­dy did begin to feare. The King, when night was come, communi­cated to his wife Leiride, what had passed betweene him and the Queene of Arabia, alledging amongst others reasons two as chiefe. One, that he could not bestow his Daughter upon a nobler Prince then Coralbo, unlesse he had resolved to make choice of one of the two Princes of his blood, not yet espoused, which he ought not to do, for feare of such confusions as might arise within his owne Domini­ons, in case he should die before his Son Gradovido were come to age; be­sides that, he did not perceive either of them to be capable of it. The Duke of Siene too young, and linked to the Prince of Berenice. The Duke of Missorme, vicious and temerarie, imbued with Maximes full of poyson and dangers, both for state and subjects. His other reason was, that having cause to stand in feare of those Princes, by reason of his Sonnes tender, and his own failing age, he being by course of na­ture near his end, he ought to get a Son in law, who should be power­ful of himselfe, and void of all pretences to the Kingdome of Aegypt: That to this end he undertooke the War of Arabia, because that ha­ving conquered it, he might invest him in it, by the name of Dowry, and so leave him never a foot of Land on this side the Sea, from whence he might have forces or assistance, intending in time, to leave him Tutor to his Sonne, assuring himselfe he could not be able to a­buse the Authority of that title, having so many who would watch over his actions; nor the Princes attaine to the ends of their designes, being opposed by a great Prince, strong in his owne and the Countries Forces, by the Lawes, and the person of the pupill King. That if any one should take occasion to taxe him, for giving his Daughter that for a Dowry, which in meer propriety belonged to his Son in law; it was an objection of no great moment. Prudent Princes caring little for others discourses, words wounding no man: and roy­al spirits being of sufficient proofe against the tongues of the vulgar. But that these were not his ends, though but rationall if they had been such, being sure he should spend as much Treasure in the con­quests of the Arabies, and a great deale more, then would have countervailed his Daughters portion, and that his subjects would hardly have stirred, fought but weakly, and destroyed the whole Country, if he had not before hand made it knowne, that it was for his interest in a thing which concerned his Daughters portion, and [Page 6]his future Grand-childrens. Leiride applauded her Husbands discour­ses, and purposing to move the question to her Daughter, Elitrea was no sooner up, but she sent for her, and with much joy related unto her, her Fathers intention, thinking nothing could be more pleasing to a maiden, then the proposall of marriage. But simplicity enforced by love, caused her to oppose all her Mothers perswasions, declaring she would have no other Husband but Lindadori, whom she knew by no other name; but the youngest of the Knights of Europe, who had beene at the Court but few moneths since. Leiride was troubled at it, not knowing what answer to give her Husband, fearing his just in­dignation and displeasure. But seeing that neither prayers, nor threat­nings, could alter her resolution, she was constrained to relate unto him what the Princesse her answer was, mitigating the offence with her simplicity and childishnesse. Psemitides laughed at it, and unfold­ing the Riddle, unfolded unto her the Riddle of the two warrieresses, excusing himselfe that he had not before disclosed it unto her, by reason of his promise made to Coralbo. He related unto her the oc­casions of their comming into Aegypt, and of their suddain departures thence, wherewith she remained no lesse astonished then comforted; seeing her self freed from those affections, which the love of Eromena had raised in her: for having till that time lived an enemy to any thing as savored of dishonesty, her Conscience was troubled for having harbored any thought contrary to her former course of life and de­meanour, which though she had not in effect violated, yet she had in Cogitation at least corrupted and stained. Having passed some time in pleasant discourses upon these newes, she took her leave, to relate these particulars to her Daughter, who made question a long time, whether she should believe them or no, till at last very fortu­nately Celitea came in, who relating many other particulars which she had heard from Coralbo, it was not difficult for her, in few dayes to alter that affection which was framed upon a false supposition, into a true one, without any change of fortune; for as she was deceived in the one at first, so was she extreamly in the latter. The marriage pub­lished, and to be consummated after the enterprize was brought to an end (Elitrea being yt too young to undergo so great a burthen;) there was every where a generall joy; the Banks of Nilus being every day frequented by the continuall passage of Men and Horses. There were at that time in the Court, as many factions as there were Prin­ces of worth in it, it being an ordinary thing among Warlike Nations, to corrupt the inward peace, while the externall flourisheth with all the Neighbours. Psemitides, a great Philosopher in knowing the na­ture of his subjects, had endeavoured many yeares by divers means, to breed one War out of another, employing those turbulent spirits abroad, to keep himselfe peaceable in the internall quietnesse of his own Dominions. But his thoughts at last proved vaine, his designs being not continued by him, and his valour having caused him too quickly to terminate those victories which might have rendred him compleatly happy, if he could have been contented to conquer more [Page 7]slowly, wanting Kingdomes to conquer, and Wars whereby he might obtaine that security which was needfull for him. Whereby that proved true in him, namely that accelerated virtue, prone to exces­ses, did for the most part prove hurtfull, and sometimes mortal. For esteeming himselfe formidable to all, for his so many royal conditi­ons, with the reputation of such transcendent victories, free from en­vie, having no peer, beloved for his clemency and justice: he for­sooke his solid judgement, and gave himselfe over to Fortune, not considering that virtue had enemies, who the more cowardly they were, were so much the more cruell and inexorable. It was almost ten yeares, since his forces being driven back by the excessive hot sea­sons of the Equator, and by the vast sands of Libya he returned home, weary of so long a War, purposing to forsake Mars, and follow Ve­nus; a War far more dangerous for him then for any other, as well for the too late appliance of himselfe thereunto, his haire being al­ready grown hoary, as also because the same having corrupted and depraved his imaginative faculty, endammaged his advice, and made way to the plotting of meanes to ruine him, to which the tender age of his successor was a great invitation. The Rebels being perswa­ded, they might not onely govern him according to their own desires, but also take from him his richest Jewels, and pluck the fairest flow­ers out of his richest and fairest Garlands. The King of Ethiopia had already solicited many, by secret Messengers, and large pensions to procure his death by any meanes, for feare of being one day oppressed amongst those which were daily conquered; but none of them durst undertake so hard and dangerous a taske, as well because he being beloved of all, they saw him environed continually by so many Guards, as also because they would avoid being obliged (he then having neither Wife, nor legitimate Children) to obey their com­panion: being rather willing to obey a lawful and vertuous Prince, then a tyrannical Traytor whom they could not trust, nor he them. Then this plot being interrupted by the ensuing peace, and the ve­nome remaining in their hearts, it tooke effect in this new raising of Armes. Aegypt had many Princes, whereof foure were of the Royal blood. There were some others, if not equal in degree, yet in traines of followers no lesse powerful then they. Of the first sort, the Prince of Berenice, and the Duke of Missormo, hated the King to death: the former offended in his Wife, with whom he had held some kind of not well concealed practise for many yeares, and did still continue it; and although he was enriched, and had daily favours accumulated upon him, yet that was a continuall sting sticking in his heart. Missor­mo had no cause at all given him, yea was daily obliged by innume­rable benefits, yet he hated him, by reason of the dissimilitude of their customes. And because he was the first Prince, the Government fell to him during the successors minority, he by his death aspired not on­ly to the Government, but also (if he could procure his death) to the Crown it self. The Prince of Cirene, who till that time had been faith­ful, began to waver after the marriage with Elitrea was published. [Page 8]For hating Coralbo, he could not without despight, see him with any authority in Aegypt; his Wife not onely inamoured, but frantick in publishing her love to him. The Duke of Siene, by reason of his ten­der yeares, unable to dispose of himself, did depend upon the Prince of Berenice, who had been his Fathers Brother. The others, who were not of this rank, some followed the King, and some the Princess, the former guided by their duty and loyalty, the latter by vast hopes, which easily sprung up in those, who become poore by spending richly, would try any way to grow rich, to the end they might by spending, grow poor againe. Bramack having received Psemitides Em­bassie, grew not faint-hearted, trusting both upon his own Forces, and his treacherous deceits. He had already secured himselfe of his own subjects in such manner that he did not feare them, having ob­liged some few with benefits, who were his instruments to keep the others within the bounds of fidelity, leaving no publique nor private place, no Harbour, House, nor Temple, without spies, where woe was it for them who but durst to have held their tongue whilest o­thers spake: Actions, words and silence, being all equally danger­ous. Praises being made crimes, discourses concerning the Royall per­son indifferently hurtful, publique assemblies prohibited, conversa­tions forsaken, parents suspected, diffidencies and dissimulations a­mongst brethren, Praytors the more abominable, the more prodigal­ly rewarded; wherefore unhappy was that Father, whose chance it was to have an unnatural disobedient Child. Whatsoever was done by himselfe, was by his Sycophants applauded, as if it had been de­creed in heaven. He shadowed his Art with cunning, making use of hypocrisie to deceive the most penetrating judgements; indoctrina­ted and taught, if not by others, by himself, that the best way to cozen people, was by meanes of superstition. It having Iron lawes, Ada­mantine bits, and a yoak of lead; whereas piety is gracious in its Lawes, having mild bits, and its yoak being light, serving none but it selfe, if any else, such Princes onely, whose Gods onely object were the subjects welfare. That a Prince as he was, could not attaine to his designes without deceiving, and that after he had so done, he was sure he might dazle the best sighted eyes, bow the most flexible necks, cloak perfidie with Religion, and under pious and religious names, make it lawful to himselfe, to grow cruel against charity, religion and nature: He had caused to come out of the neighbouring Indies, a sect of Philosophers called Samaneans, who hating poverty, and the incultivated rigidnesse of the Gymnosophists their institutors, had with politenesse and wealth, embraced a more tractable Philosophy, and gained to themselves most of the riches, and the pleasantest seats of all the Indies: they were divided into Classes, and though all under one profession, yet had they severall ends. Their chiefe Classis go­verned the rest. And as the Watch-maker with one key, gives an uni­versal motion to the whole Worke; so this Classis moved the sub­ordinate ones, which in the manner of insensible wheeles, being con­strained by their discipline, came to operate each one by it selfe, [Page 9]and to terminate times without knowing them, by others directions, joyning the first to the seconds carreer, towards their last scope: name­ly to gaine full authority over Princes and Nations, and having got­ten it, to constraine the one by the favour of the others, to obey their becks, to suppresse all other Sects as superfluous, and unuseful, to in­herit thereby all offices, wealth, and honours. These therefore being by Bramack, known to be men of extraordinary understanding, of much repute among the Indians, so that Princes themselves stood in awe of them; he would trie if within his Dominions they could bring that to passe, which others of their sect had done in other places, namely to instill into his subjects minds, to not esteem of dangers, but to adventure themselves into any perils in his behalfe, and to even die for him. Neither was he deceived, for they having received honours, and liberall gifts, and freedome of will and advice (which is the thing they chiefly aimed at, and seemed most to despise) those spirits were so refined, that in a small time they gained many for him, perswading them to devote their lives to his service, telling them this was the shortest way, and the securest to bring them to the happy springs of the everlasting Gardens, confirming their thoughts there­in, with (besides the everlasting fame which they should gaine) other recompences which were promised to their Wives, Children, and Heirs. After Psemitides had declared War against him, his first con­ceipt was to make use of these men, but he could not tell upon which of the two his death to resolve, Psemitides or Coralbo. He considered, that the murtherer being taken (which in Psemitides murther must needs happen, he being continually environed by so many men) a­live, and proving rather resolved to die, then to be tormented, he then should find himselfe in the Sands, if not in a worser case then he was: for the Aegyptians would continue warres against him, in re­venge of their King, and that which imported most, accompanied with everlasting ignominy, which though in opinion contemptible, would not perhaps prove so in effect, supposing it might give a strong alarum to all the neighbouring Kings. The killing of Coralbo, he thought might prove easier, it being possible to find him alone, and so the murtherer might (after the act was done) save himselfe by flight, which proving right, he deprived Psemitides of his cause of war­ring, and if it did not, the Arabians lost their pretence of building new hopes: for though a Mother and a Sister survived, yet the in­clination of the subjects depended upon the Son, neither would they exchange a male Prince, possessed of his rights, for two dis-inherit fe­males, subject to such dangers as their sex brings them into. These considerations made him resolve Coralbo his death, designing the o­thers also if need required. But before the effecting of it, he sent a great confident of his into Aegypt, a man, who surpassing all others in cunning, was so skilful in the Aegyptian tongue, that he questioned not but he might passe for an Aegyptian, in such a wast City as Memphis, and amidst the concurrency of so many Souldiers of severall Nations and Tongues. He commanded him to observe the [Page 10]Souldiery, their Order, their Qualities, their Armes, their Municions. And causing a little letter of credency to be sown up in a doublet he had made of Hippotatamus skinnes, he appointed him to deliver it to Geldebar, one of Queen Celitea her servants, who used to informe him of all the Queens proceedings, and had sent him word of Coralboes arrival. He bid he should by him informe himselfe of all the most secret parti­culars of the Court, especially concerning Coralbo. What his course of life was, what friends he had, with whom he conversed, how he pas­sed the time away, whether he followed hunting whether he went of­ten from Court, whether accompanied, or alone, or by night; what enviers, or enemies he had; in what esteem he was with the Princess, and others: Whether a plot might be laid against his person without danger; if with danger, how it might be avoided. He gave him or­ders for the receiving of great summes of money by such by-wayes, and with so many cautions, that they seemed not to come out of Ara­bia, having been formerly returned by Bills of exchange at severall times in all places of Syria and Rhenicia; from thence into Cyprus, and thence to Memphis by severall blanks. He bid him give a good part of it to Geldebar, to be employed by his advice: His intention being they should purchase themselves dependencies upon one Prince or more of that Court: and besides money, he gave him very rich Jewels, discoursing to him that covetous Princes, in dangerous affairs did spend more ten to one, then liberall ones; that wisdome is blin­ded with the love of money; that which is expended besides the ma­terial charge, of Souldiers and Ammunition, seemed to some to be cast away, who do not know that intelligences, spies, and corruptions are the true meanes either to extinguish Warres, or bring them to a good period. Raisemet (for so was this man called) being thus dispatched, arrived to Memphis without any danger, neither was it difficult to him to find out Geldebar, in a City so full of inhabitants, and at that time more then ever, full of strangers. After he had given him the letters, and enriched him with a great summe of ready money, and filled him with great hopes; he related unto him Bramacks concepti­ons, according to the malice of their understandings, being both ex­ceeding cunning. They pleased Geldebar extreamly, and so much the more, because they were most conformable to his owne, wherefore though he were prevented in the proposall of them, he was not so in the advice of the executing of them.

Having therefore given Bramack many thanks for his bountifulness, and highly commended his prudency, he told him that the Princes of the Court (excepting some few) were all apt to be corrupted; Idlenesse, prodigality, and ease, having rendred them stubborne, poor, and desirous of changes. That he notwithstanding, thought it not fit to make use of any more then one of them; one being suf­ficient to draw in more without any danger. He named Missormo, de­ciphered him what manner of man he was, temerary, ambitious, co­vetous, enemy to the King, and much more to Coralbo, whom he e­steemed to be the onely obstacle to his designes: So that upon this [Page 11]basis, ought the whole designe to be grounded, that the death of the King, Coralbo, or both, would be fruitlesse without him. That the least advantage Bramack could gaine thereby would be, to transport the War out of his own Kingdome into others, or to enjoy a calme peace, while there should spring up in Aegypt an infinite of seeds of dissention, which were by such a hand to be sowen. Geldebars caute­lous discourse, pleased Raisemet wondrous well, and remitting the care thereof to him, he would have given him Jewels, and Gold for the Duke, but he would not take them, judging it would be better to give them himselfe. He had already gotten some knowledge of the Duke, giving him to understand by his talke, that he was evill af­fected towards his Mistresse and her Sonne, but had proceeded no farther, thinking him startled at that discourse. But he was deceived, for he was very well pleased therewith, and very well contented, to have some of Coralboes houshold depend upon him. So that whilest Geldebar sought some occasion to speak to him for Raisemet, he himselfe presented him one, by enquiring concerning the Ports, Castles, and Forts of Arabia: But Geldebar giving him a civill and discreet an­swer, with some reserves, as if such a relation deserved some more se­cret place, made him call him apart, where continuing his interrupt­ed discourse, he described Arabia to him so strong, that Psemitides for­ces might find some obstacles and oppositions in it. Bramack to be the most prudent and generous Prince in the world, whose subjects would rather die at his feet then yeeld; and that they did not onely think Coralboes pretence to be unjust, but did also imagine this to be a supposed Coralbo, and that the right one was taken and killed when he fled; but that it was not published, because Bramack thought it not fitting lest it should be hurtful to him, to make himselfe hateful in the beginning of his Raigne, to those who favoured Celitea: That amongst all his laudable qualities, his chiefe was, to make high esteem of generous Princes: That Missormo was very much inclined towards him, and had thought many times to send a secret Ambassadour to him, to offer him his friendship and amity. Missormo assured of Gelde­bars hatred to Coralbo, and that he being of one of the chiefe Families of Arabia, might hold some intelligence with Bramack, thought hee himselfe was the same Ambassadour, so that undermining one ano­ther they came at last to discover themselves; but having heard Raise­mets Ambassage, and of the presents sent him, the facility of killing the King, though with the murtherers certaine death, with the prof­fers made to maintaine Warres for him in Aegypt, to raise him to the Crown: He admitted Raisemet, and accepting of the presents, appoin­ted the time of the murtherers comming to slay Psemitides. Coralbo af­ter his decease, remaining without any forces, and Bramack secured from the Aegyptians Armies, comming into Arabia. Raisemet prodi­gal of what his Master had given him for many, gave it all to Missor­mo alone, examining the occasions wherewith he should availe him­selfe of them: And being returned home, he rendred so pleasing an accompt of his negociation with Bramack, that in a short time he be­came [Page 12]for Titles, Dignities, and Revenues, the greatest man in the Kingdome. And though Missormo his opinion concerning the death of Psemitides, was by him judged to be the best to free him from war, yet the making away of Coralbo, he also esteemed absolutely neces­sary, to free himselfe from the onely competitor he could have, whom since he had reason to feare, he could not naturally chuse but hate ex­treamly. Wherefore having made choice of two murtherers, he sent them to Memphis, without directing them to any man; the subjects on whom they were to employ themselves, being so conspicuous, that the venturing of them to the sight of any (though very good friends) could not chuse but be very dangerous Wherefore being first perswaded, they should by this deed (if they dyed) obtaine everlasting happinesse; he added thereunto promises of high rewards to their posterity, the most cunning deceivers being of opinion, that one ought to think that natural reason being able to reflect with some raye of truth amidst the thickest fogs of deceipt, and dissipate them, it was needful to raise up deceiptful hopes of the equally fallacious imagination, with the reall ones of sence, which are not subject to such grosse illusions. In the meane time, there were in Aegypt, such preparations for Warres, as being calculated by humane judgement, one might have verily believed, that Psemitides might therewith have made himselfe Master, not of Arabia onely, but of the Universe: when his unexpected death over-threw all mens expectation. He was come forth of the City into the field, to add wings unto the Cap­taines diligence by his presence, who marched away under their Co­lonells, six or eight thousand at a time towards the Arabian Sea, the Chanels of Nilus being full of great Boats to passe them over with all their Baggage. There was he (not content to stay and take his ease in a Tent) running up and downe so swiftly, that followers were troublesome to him. There was a Regiment newly imbarqued, when the King retreating a little from the bank side, espied a Souldier on Horseback, and called back the next Boat to carry him away, and in the meane time espying in his hand a little Cross-bow all of Iron, and judging it of no use for warre, would see it, and the Souldier taking it againe, as it were to shew him the trial of it, bent it with a Key, and laded it with a steel Arrow, not above a span long, and run­ning at him on Horse-back, shot it into his heart, so that passing clean through him, it remained in the body of another Knight who was be­hind him; all which was done so suddainly, and without any noise, that had they not both fallen suddainly without speaking ever a word, no body could have imagined any such thing. The Boat which was called back, knowing that man to be none of theirs, went away without waiting the Kings command. The Princes were in a Tent playing with Coralbo. The Souldiers were at a distance looking to their Furnitures, ready to passe over as soon as the Barks returned. Some of Psemitides Houshold were with him, but a foot as he was, so that the Traytor had time to fly without being presently pursued: But the rumour thereof being arrived to the Kings Tent, you cannot [Page]imagine what an astonishment possessed all the sences of Coralbo. Mis­sormos knowing whence the blow came, and fearing least the parri­cide should be taken alive, got upon the next Horse, and followed him with all speed: so did all the Horsemen, running every way to thwart his passage which they might easily doe, the Country being watered by many Chanels made by the hands of men. He in the meane time fled, keeping upon the border of Nilus, to reach to a bark four miles higher, which he had hired to passe him over: But find­ing it alone, the owner being gone a little way about some businesse, and his pursuers following him so close, he could not have had time to embarque his Horse, though the Boat had beene loose, it being made fast with a lock and a chaine, he thought it therefore his safest way, to adventure himselfe in the River, then to fall into the hands of so many enemies. The Horse did as much as a Horse could do, to overcome the swiftnesse of the streame. But though it were one of the best of Arabia, it was not able long to strive against the violence of the current, suffering it selfe in despight of hand and spur to be carried towards the bank: Missormo being spectator, and raging that he did not sink, feigning he believed he might escape, commanded him to be shot with arrowes. But there was by chance but one Bow to be found in the whole company, every one upon such a suddaine oc­casion, being runne thither onely with Sword and Spear. The Tray­tor in the meane time perceiving the danger, and that crossing the water directly, (as he at first had foolishly attempted) was impossible, suddenly turned his Horse, and let him goe with the streame, think­ing by little and little, he might gaine the other side. Neither might he, peradventure, have been deceived, if he had at the first guided him with a more gentle hand; but being bred with the former vio­lent courses, he began to take in water so fast, that he was in danger of sinking, if he perceiving it had not eased him, and casting himselfe out of the saddle, had not catcht hold of his tail: But the Beast, whose ends were contrary to his Masters, finding it selfe at liberty, turned towards the nearest shore, where nature prompted him he might save his life, his Master being not able to turne or stay him by the tayl. Missormo being resolved he should not be taken alive, aligh­ted (blaming within himselfe the mans cowardlinesse, who to live some few dayes longer, should make choise of a most cruell death amidst a thousand torments, rather then to be drowned in an instant without any more pain) & taking the next Lance to him, run him just into the wind pipe before he came to the shore, so that the water running into the wound, and the blood issuing out, he remained in the River till he was almost dead, and being drawn out, (and though some cried he should be let alone with that little breath he had, Mis­sormo not contradicting it, seeing him in such case that he was not like to speak any more) was by the inraged people cut into a thousand peeces upon the shore, there remaining nothing but the Horse left, whereby one might judge who was he that had employed him in this businesse, which was known to be Bramacks by the crowned Phenix [Page 14]which was on his thigh, the ancient and famous mark of the Kings of Arabia's horses. Coralbo had in the meane time with inward griefe, caused Psemitides body to be brought into the Tent, and finding Chi­rurgery had no power over death, riding towards Memphis in a full cariere, to speak with the Queen and her Mother before the Princes arrival, no body following him but foure of his own houshold. He was hardly come out of the camp, when a Horseman crossed his way, who seemed to desire to speak with him; Coralbo stayed, thinking he had been sent upon some message. And as desire uses to be often times a raiser of dead hopes, he thought him a messenger of Psemitides despai­red life. But the man being come neare to him, let fall his cloak, and drawing out a short Semitar, ranne upon him to wound him, and had done it, if Coralbo before hand suspecting it, had not spurred his horse another way. The assailant passed forward, carried away by his hor­ses fiercenesse, so that he had no time to turne his face upon Coralbo his four men, who were upon him suddainly, and one of them taking hold of his bridle, gave the three others time to take away his wea­pon, by him easily yeelded, because he would lose no time in striving for it; but drawing his dagger, he wounded two of them with two mortal wounds, and spurring on to do the like to Coralbo, who was come nearer him, his Horse grew unruly, and he reyning him in hard to make him obedient to the bit, the reynes broke, and the horse car­ried him away against his will, and falling under him he had been ta­ken alive, if with a desperate resolution he had not with his owne dagger deprived himselfe of life. Coralbo took breath seeing the dan­ger past, yet grieved much for his two wounded servants, especially one of them who was upon dying. But seeing necessity drove him to go forward, and his stay not being able to doe dying men any good, he left the two which were not wounded, to take care of the other two. Being come to Memphis, I am not able to relate how his dolour was increased by the lament which he heard, being many times stayed by the weeping people. He found the Palace despoiled of all its ornaments. Leiride and Elitrea, Celitea and Bel [...]alba, the Prin­cesses and Ladies, their haire loose, and their vestiments torn, lying on the ground, their howlings (rather then teares) increasing at his comming in, his grieved affections could not chuse but second them, humanity, piety, and the apprehension of evills, having at that in­stant taken away his constancy from him; neither could he choose, unlesse he would have been wanting to himselfe, seeing that accom­panying teares with griefes, is in extreame mis-fortunes, an image of content. The Queen arose, and with her all the rest, by whom being encompassed, they called as earnestly upon his assistance, as if the enemy had been comming upon them: He having stayed the teares, which, with an importunate violence flowed from his eyes, taking the Queen and Mother aside, into a little chamber adjoyning there­unto; said unto them, Ladies, If teares could call back the Kings life, or withstand the perills threatned us by his death, I should esteeme comforts to be treacheries, and a kind of compliance to the guilt not [Page 15]to mourn for the effect. But as the one is impossible, so are we like to have time more then enough to grieve, and too little to look for re­medies. The life of this glorious King, the more it deserves lamen­ting, the more it ought to perswade us, to suspend our laments, to examine the dangers which hang over our heads. What hath befallen him you have already heard, what hath befallen me, and is like to happen to us all, I will now relate. Here he made a narration of his own case, the death of the assaulter, and the little hope of life of both the wounded men, which reiterated the terrour of both the Queenes which heard him. Then directing his words to Leiride, he went on, saying, Madam, These things do all proceed from the ma­chinations of Bramack, and from the Duke of Missormo. The arguments and reasons which perswade me are: That the Horse which was ta­ken out of Nilus, is of Bramacks race, and the parricides accents Ara­bish, Missormo amongst all the Princes alone, (an imployment farre too low beneath one of his rank) followed him, and killed him, whilest he ought, and might have taken him alive to have driven the truth out of him, and cleared all doubts, and punish him by the hang­mans hands, though in this last he deserves pardon, he being the true formal executioner of Aegypts whole Monarchy. But that which in­creases in me the credency thereof, that the King some three moneths since told me, that he knew by a Gentleman belonging to the said Missormo, that Geldebar my Mothers servant, was often with him in secret conference: and that about a moneth since, the same Gentle­man had told him that Missormo had disbursed abundance of money, and it not known that he had alienated any thing of his owne, or o­thers lent him any. That he had given the Princes of Cirene and Be­renice money, and jewels of great value. Practises, and liberalities which had oftentimes perswaded and enticed him to secure his per­son, but had abstained from so doing, moved by the inconveniencies which might follow, and the hope he had to catch him at such a time as he should not be able to excuse nor save himselfe. And besides, I was no sooner known to be Coralbo, when I came disguised with Po­limero Prince of Sardinia to see my Mother, but Bramack had notice of it. That any other hath done this, but Geldebar, we have no likelihood; wherefore this, and the secret practises and conferences he had with Missormo, make me certainly beleeve, that they two were the plotters of this Treason, to the end that Bramack freed from the danger of lo­sing his state, and revenged of us who would have taken it from him, might make way for Missormo to usurpe the Crown, by disinheriting and killing of Gradovido. The two Queenes were astonished: But Ce­litea accustomed to such affaires, affirmed it could be no otherwise, she having for a long time observed upon severall occasions, that she had spies in her house; and that she had also advice thereof, by some friends out of Arabia. It was therefore agreed upon, after sundry con­sultations, that Geldebar should secretly be made prisoner, before Mis­sormo his arrivall, and putting him to torments, to draw the truth out of him. Celitea had all (save this one) faithfull servants: so that it [Page 16]proved an easie matter, the same night to keep him prisoner without any tumult. Finding himselfe discovered he disclosed all; adding that Celitea, together with her Daughter, were to be yeelded up to Bramack without any great noise, for being to be forced to leave the Court, and retire to their first old habitation, they might easily be ta­ken by the Arabians with the Princes conveniences. That Missormo his intention, was to make himselfe King, but that he dissembled it for feare of his companions, who had concurred in Psemitides death, to enjoy equally (in the Princes minority) the benefits of the go­vernment. That he aspired to the marriage of Eli rea to effectuate his designes with lesse difficulty, to which he hoped to attaine in de­spight of them by Gradovido his death, he being next to succeed. That supposing Coralbo dead, there was no other resolution taken con­cerning him; but that being escaped, he was not to live long, all of them having conspired his death. Leirides was astonished in the vast chaos of so many machinations; but more seeing Coralbo and Celitea forced to give way to fortune, seeing that with them she was depri­ved of all aid and counsell. Such a resolution distasted Coralbo, seem­ing to him that his honour suffered thereby, but considering himselfe to be too weak a fence, against the torrent of so many Princes, being a stranger without any followers, hated and envied, his marriage bro­ken off, treasons certaine, and his death manifest, but above all the imminent danger of his Mother and sister; he desired Leirides to be of good courage, assuring her that her right, and virtues would soon gaine her friends and advice. That hands open to liberalities, would unite those which were not yet united to her service, and divide those who were already united to her dammage. That by such means she might penetrate into the most secret councels with this advantage, that her enemies could have done nothing but weakly, and by wicked (and consequently unfaithful instruments, who would be perswaded easily to revolt by hopes, and more certaine rewards, or by feare, and their duty. Whereas she with her royal right, benefits, and treasures, of which she ought to make her selfe the sole distributrix, could not want the best (and consequently the most faithfull) besides the good reputation which she should gaine thereby, which though it be a birth of the imagination, yet such an one that without it, it is impos­sible for Common-wealths, or Kingdoms to stand long and not ruine. That if she could keep Geldebar alive without discovering his impri­sonment, she should doe it. He being a strong engine at any time, and upon any occasion against the conspirators; but if the secret should come to be disclosed, before the establishment of her authority, and that disturbances might happen thereby, she should cause him to be put to death secretly. That she should not by any meanes, give the Princesse Elitrea in marriage to Missormo, but rather to the Duke of Siene, and that as soon as possible it might be: For as jarres and di­visions would ensue thereon, amongst all the Princes, so with the establishment of her party, would she secure her Sonnes state and life. That the resolution of his, and his Mothers going away, was [Page 17]as necessary for her, as for them, their presence being but a pretence for others to trouble her; and seeing they were not able to assist her with any service, why should they stay there to damnifie her? The dangers dryed up Leirides tears, and the weaknesses of her mind were strengthned by the knowledge of her affaires, and the manner of ma­naging of them. So that there was not thence-forth, any Queene that carried her selfe better then she: obliging, cherishing, and conni­ving; and by this meanes restoring a monarchy to health, which a­midst the putrifaction of many humours, was by the Colledge of Po­litians judged incurable, and mortall. She caused the next day a small light Gallie first to be rigged and fitted with good rowers, and load­ing it with most precious riches, for the reliefe of such deare friends, she took leave of them with abundance of teares. And being im­barqued by night with all their servants, they gained in small time the open Sea; when Celitea, unresolved of what place she might make choice of to end her dayes in: Sardinia was by Coralbo propounded unto her. But that generous spirit, not overcome by so many adver­sities, could not but unwillingly abandon those Climates which were nearest her ancient Kingdome: hoping fortune, inconstant in hu­mane affaires, might shew it selfe the same to her enemies. But she was deceived in it, for it would be a kind of constancy, or at least of justice in fortune, if in her volubilities she did equally raise the op­pressed to her former favours.

Being arrived to Cyprus, and having understood the qualities of him that governed it, she thought she might sojourn there securely, better then in any other place. Ortoman was dead, in a short time af­ter the Nuptialls were contracted between his Son Gradamoro, and the valiant Deadora: So that the Kingdome (though in mourning) flourished under the command of the two new espoused couple. Ce­litea would not have had any one know what she was, but whether the Mariners had blabbed it out, or the splendor of her servants, or her own royall carriage, which though overshaddowed with adversity, could hardly be hidden: she was presently known to be there: So that Queen Deadora hearing of it, sent not, but went in person to vi­site her: and being informed of her disasters, having made proffer both of the King and her selfe to serve her, she provided her with a habitation worthy her greatnesse, and did what she could to keep Coralbo there also. Gradamoro also inviting him thereunto with parti­cular urgent instances. But he staying there some few dayes, and sen­ding back the vessel with his Mothers, Sisters, and his own, to Leiri­des and Elitrea; he would needs depart, his old affections having converted his sufferings into comforts: he being permitted therby to returne to his first loves. So that having taken his leave of all, with promise of speedy return, he directed his course towards the Cicla­des, sayling many dayes without any encounter, until one morning about the dawning of the day, he found himselfe a little beyond the comming out of th'Egean Sea in a great calm. The Marriners taking their Oars in hand, advanced so fast, that they overtook a Vessel [Page 18]which being newly come out of the Port of Arcadia, coasted (as they did) along Peloponnesus. Wherefore having enterchangeably saluted each other according to their custome, they rejoyced that they should unitedly go some dayes journeys together. A young Cavalier was master of that Vessel, who being at that instant asleep, as Coralbo also was in his own, and would not have waked so soon, if the rejoycing cries of the Marriners had not broken their sleeps: so that rising at his, and comming out of his Cabine, Coralbo likewise appeared in his Vessel. The inbred noblenesse, their equality in yeares, and beauty, invited their curious eyes to examine and survey each other. Their mutual salutes were accompanied with many courteous terms. And desirous to know one another, especially Coralbo, who was weary of being alone; the first Complements being ended, he craved leave of him to come into his Vessel, which having obtained, they fell into discourse. Coralbo began first to relate to his voyage: He con­cealed what he was, and such particulars as in discretion he had rea­son not to reveal: He said he came out of Aegypt, and was going up­on some occasions into Sardinia. The other, who for more secret cau­ses concealed himselfe, related unto him that he came out of Greece, which he had punctually gone thorough from place to place: and ha­ving visited all the Islands of the Ionick and Egean Sea, he had left none unseen but Ericusa, and Feacia, which he purposed at the present to visite, to passe from thence into Sicilia, Bartenope, Sardinia, and fur­ther. This was not Coralboes right way, those two bearing too much on the right hand of his course; yet having heard some wonders of them (if it be a wonder that a new Country should represent unto us, with the variety of persons varieties of accidents) he resolved to goe on in that bending course with such good company, and for­sake his direct way: thinking it would not be well done of him to bestow some few dayes more in visiting a place of such renown as E­ricusa was in those dayes (Renown which ceased after they were gone thence who were the cause of it.) And having so determined, they went on, Coralbo retreating at night into his owne Vessel, and passing the day with singular pleasure in such sweet company. He observed very curiously, and precisely the behaviour and carriage of the Knight, finding them so delicate, that they argued him to be brought up amongst Ladies at Court, rather then amongst Knights in the field. And his former keeping company with Lindadori and Eromena, having opened his understanding, gave him to imagine, that this was not a man. The sweetnesse of this voice, the grace of behaviour, the modesty beyond manlike a one, were arguments to perswade him thereunto: besides the service which a Damsell did him, which he made more frequent use of then an Esquire. But being not able to pick out any certainty of it, having observed him to be melancholly and pensive: he one day said unto him, Let it (I pray sir Knight) be lawful for me, to be by you informed of one thing, Whether you be­ing alone as you are, do not passe your time away in such a long Na­vigation (as I do) in amorous thoughts: If you do not, I have great [Page 19]cause to pitty you. Phantasies in young men as we are, if they have no such imployment, are in danger to be spoiled after the same man­ner, as stomacks which having no nourishment put into them, are filled with evill humours. The Knight was amazed; and although the discourse did not dislike him, yet he was sorry he could not satis­fie him as he would have done: yet he answered him, Sir, I will not say, I do not passe away the time in such manner: yea, my Phanta­sie feeds upon no other food. True it is, that stomacks sometimes feed upon noxious food, so that it would be better to keep them fast­ing: for if amorous thoughts be without hopes as mine are, it would be better have none hopes in love, hold (in mine opinion) the same proportion towards the imagination, as the radicall humidity does with the body, which humidity being spent, there is no more life: therefore if they be mortified, it is contrary to nature that love should subsist; and if it doth subsist, its life is not reall, but phantastical and imaginary, drawn on by force of an amorous Magick: Coralbo smiled, the Knights beauty (if such he had been) seeming to him to be free from such despairs; wherefore he said unto him, I know not how this your youth, accompanied with all those ornaments, can make you so unfortunate as you describe your selfe, unlesse you take a de­light in imagining it to be so. Many take pleasure in weeping when they are in love, and will procure occasions so to doe, or at least pre­tend to have some. There are some tasts, which are better satisfied with sowre, then savory meates. And if I doe not believe any such thing of you, yet I will believe at least, that your hopes are thus mor­tified, rather by the losse of the thing beloved, then having it still want occasion to hope, or talent to obtaine as much as you honestly desire.

The teares stood in the Knights eyes hearing this, and he had much adoe to retaine them: but with great labour at last repressed them, and answered him. I know not whether I be yet in this case, and stopping would have gone forward, when the teares before re­pressed, did in despight of him return, gushing out in such abun­dance, that his overflowing eyes became a torrent. And because no­thing should be wanting to make up a reall storme, all parts concur­red thereunto, insomuch that the face before overclouded with grief, resolved into a shower of teares, was accompanied with thunders of sobs, and winds of sighes, that it seemed a deluge of beauteous and amorous raine. Coralbo stayed waiting the serenity of it, which the longer it was a comming, the more constant and calm it proved, so that following his former discourse, he said, I know not sir Knight what my merits are, but I well know that I am the most unfortunate she that ever was born: for others once born, die but once, (having by death rescued themselves from the tyranny of fortunes changes) whereas I never born, and once dead, did rise again to die (against the lawes of nature) continually subject to a cruell and implacable destiny. These last words had not their perfect accents, having per­ceived she had too openly spoken. But Coralbo grown tender with [Page 20]compassion, comforted her with most courteous and affectionate words, proffering his assistance and service in whatsoever he should be able to doe. But she more then ever sorry, for having disclosed her selfe to be a woman (griefe having deprived her of understanding) would have corrected her selfe, by alledging that when she had said unfortunate she, it was in relation to Creature. But he already perswa­ded of her being, answered, Lady, let not your mistake grieve you; I am here not to oppose, but serve you. It is all one to me of whe­ther sex you are; if a man, I honour you without enquiring any fur­ther: if a woman, I will serve you with that respect, and assist you with such fidelity, as a Knight is obliged to serve a Lady of such me­rit as your selfe. Wherefore if relating your mis-fortunes to me, may avail you any thing, doe it, I imagine them to be extraordinary, as I hold also your condition to be no lesse. If otherwise, let what hath been spoken suffice, promising that to give you satisfaction, I will overcome mine own sence, and believe you to be that man which you are not. Coralbo's speeches pleased the Lady very well, but much more the ingenuity wherewith they were expressed; wherefore gi­ving him many thanks, after a short pause she spake thus.

I am indeed an unfortunate one (sir Knight) and a woman, which is beyond the equivocation of unfortunate Creature. My name Liarta, my birth Royal, my Country Lusitania, my Ancestors Celtes, of those Celts, which subdued great part of Iberia, so that not long after, the youngest of those Princes, comming over into Lusitania, became Lord of it, leaving it peaceable to his successors. My Father Deviaco, was the youngest of four Children to the last King save one, so there fal­ling to him a smal inheritance, between Minius and Limus, two famous Rivers, I was (I will not say born there, for I suppose ripped up out of my dead Mothers belly) brought up, far from all courtlike hopes, and ambitions, believing the greatnesse of my birth was sufficient to make me as worthy as I was scornfull and carelesse of attaining to any higher degree of greatnesse. An Affection, or defect borne with me, taken from my Fathers nature, who after the death of his Fa­ther, withdrawing himselfe from Court, left his two other Brothers there with Viriatus the eldest of all: A King of such worth, that he was singular among Princes, for holding in esteem the good qua­lities of those who belonged to him: a rule, which if it did suffer exception in me, yet did it not in my Father Deviaco, but when he pleased: A noble and generous mind, born under Monarchicall Go­vernment being able to serve his Prince, and enjoy those fruits which fortune affords him, without any constraint of corruption. In the same manner as (by meanes of a due proportion) any one may enjoy and make use of the heat of fire without burning in it. True it is, that if one ought to judge, by any other rule but that of rigorous and vul­gar passions, I can not with any reason accuse him: for dying con­stant in that course of life, whilest he lived it was so that no exorbi­tant vice could be found in him, going to the Court (when publique affaires required) upon the least call of his Brother; having served [Page 21]him, returning home (without ever desiring any thing of him) to his domestick rest. I must rather accuse my selfe, time and variety of chances having made me now to perceive, that my retirednesse was no solid body of vertue drawn from my Father, but a shadow and a coppy embossed from his originall, which failing me, I had no fur­ther power to bring it to perfection, so that mine might have beene esteemed a vertue as his, if it had been constant. King Viriato having buried his first wife, without any issue by her, took another in his old age, by whom he had two, equally (by reason of their royal condi­tions) judged the flower of all those that ever were borne. It hap­pened that Almadero being the eldest, was endowed with such sin­gular beauties, as well internall as externall, grew so neare to Divi­nity, that no man almost thought him mortall. He had not obtained to fourteen yeares of age, when they began to talke of giving him a Wife. The Princesse of Cantabria excelling in beauty, had the gene­rall favour and applause of the whole Kingdome, in Betica and Tarracon, were two worthy Princesses: But Viriato (whilest his and the neighbouring people stood in expectation of what would be done,) had in himselfe long before concluded to bestow a wife upon him, of his own family, one of his Neeces, the only daughter of one of his eldest Brothers that were already dead, brought up by him to this end, with a fatherly and extreame care. But he was deceived there­in: His, and others examples shewing us, that the heavens seldome favour those matches which are designed in the Cradle. My Father in the interim dyed, leaving beind him Children enow, but small for­tunes, and which was worse, rich thoughts joyned with poverty, which brought the house and us almost in an instant to utter ruine. His sicknesse was no sooner divulged at Court, but my two eldest Brothers who sojourned there, came flying home, just when he was in his extremity, yet time enough to receive by word of mouth, the last codicill of his admonitions, amongst which was the care of their Sisters, and of a reciprocall love amongst themselves. But the chief was of an exact obedience, to proceed (more then out of obligation) from a reverent affection, doubly due unto the King, both as Uncle and Lord. Which (all other meanes laid aside) should be the sole foundation of their hopes, therein (more then any thing else) con­sisting the summe of all praise and merit: wherein he so much ex­tended himselfe, and with such effectuall words, that considering them afterward within my selfe, I can not believe he spake them, but onely because he was doubtful they would operate a quite contrary effect in me, as it afterward happened. The Funeral was solemnized, to honour which, the King sent many of the chiefe of the Councell, with great summes of mony, not so much for the expence of the Fu­nerall which was great, as to defray our journey to the Court, whe­ther (to relieve us from the importunate oeconomy of a desolate house) he invited, and commanded us to come. I having with much griefe resented my Fathers death, being while he lived his supreme delight, found my selfe no lesse troubled, being forced to leave my [Page 22]known aire and Country, and houshold Gods, and that quiet rest of mind, which I was inwardly perswaded (either by a better Geni­us, or by melancholly) to be habituated in me. But I could doe no lesse, then obey mine Uncle, follow my Brothers, visit my Sisters, who were long before married, and in thinking to shun evills, runne full into the mouth of them, seconding the maligne influences, with which mine unlucky ascendant threatned me. Being arrived to Court, I was by the King received with such termes of piety and love, that no greater could have been used if I had been his own Child. He as­signed me a pension, worthy my consanguinity, taking a resolution in his mind, suddainly to give me in marriage, considering I was of suf­ficient age. For though in this habit I seem very young, they reckon­ed at that time, that since my birth, might be reckoned [...]4 Solar re­volutions. I had never before cared for marriage, not so much in con­sideration of our poverty, (assuring my selfe that upon such an oc­casion, my good Uncle would not have failed me in his assiance) as because I was loath to forsake so good a Father: who though he had tried me many times with an intent of strayning his ability to the utmost, reason requiring, that in such a case he should part from me; yet he forced me not, being content to have from my free will, that deniall which he so much desired, yet would not willingly have ob­tained without my spontaneous consent. But behold that which I mentioned but now: while I resigne my selfe, being Fatherlesse wholly unto an Uncles commands, who was by me reputed a second Father, I thinking by this fortune to relieve my selfe, do find by this meanes my selfe quite overthrowne and undone. Prince Almadero when I arrived to Court, was entred into the fifteenth yeare of his age, yet old (by particular gift of heaven) in all perfections belong­ing to the greatnesse of his princely birth. I was entertained by him with termes beyond a Coufins, testifying with honours, and affection, the pleasure he took in my comming, but ere many dayes were past, by continually frequenting of my company, he was so plunged in it, that honours and affection, came unawares to be altered, consangui­ty and courtesie, first causes of benevolence, turning into a kind of veneration, from which, as from a branch sprung love, which (as least expected or looked for by me) grew strong and constant in him. Whilest uncertaine I observe him, not being able to perswade my selfe that it was true; and if so, yet in state rather of breeding, then of being borne; behold I found it growne to a full ripenesse, and not believing mine own sences, thought it to be a flame of some smal substance, a flash, which in its flashing terminated its effect: But when convinced, it appeared to me a constant fire, no more a lightning, but a sun-beame. I know not which was greatest in me, pleasure or feare, delighted in the dignity, beauty, and merits of so great a con­quest, and fearing the secret notice which I had from my Father, how he was destinated for his Cousin; so that being tossed by these af­fections, I had like to have lost my selfe upon the Rocks of despaire, not being able to resolve my selfe upon conforming my will to his, [Page 23]although I were willing, knowing the difficulties, fore-seeing the im­pediments, and divining our dangers and damages. The Courtiers careful observers of others actions, especially of their Princes, pre­sently perceived Almaderoes inclination; and my Brothers having no­tice thereof, preimmediately came to me, wishing me to imbrace this good fortune: But I who even at that time thought it to be slippery and uncertaine, shewed them the dangers, which presented them­selves unto me, if I should take hold of it: That hopes were not to be measured by the affections of a young Prince, but by the solidity of an old King, whose resolutions were to be considered, together with his passions. Mine age as unequall, too dangerous for an Heire of a Kingdome. Considerations which should altogether, if not satisfie, yet retard the precipitations of such Counsells. But they being per­swaded, that ambition and pleasures which were their ends, should also be mine, were angry with me, thinking me foolish, for that which others would have commended in me, and esteemed me wise for it. They represented to me the Princes dignities and beauty, able to in­flame the most frozen breasts, but I commiserating their ignorance in this case, shewed them the deceipt of it. Love not breeding, but entring into a well composed soule, the doores being opened with the keyes of reason, to goe out againe the same way. I confessed the Princes merits, but these were not to deprive me of the knowledge of my selfe. I set them before mine eyes to venerate as his subject, but not to enjoy them as his wife: another being destinated thereunto, and (which was of more moment then any thing else) his Father being of a contrary disposition, which was the summe of all other reasons. But what availed it me to be wise in my discourses, when mine actions proved me to be a fool in every ones judgement. Al­madero thinking generall demonstrations, were not sufficient to mani­fest his love to me, resolved to goe on with me in more particular termes, and he accommodated himselfe thereunto with such plea­sing wayes, as would gave proved impossible to any but himself, for farre from any artifice, they were uttered with sighes, and accompa­nied with alternate palenesse and blushings, innocently artificiall. Lady and Cousin (said he) I have a secret inclosed within my brest, which though reason and honesty perswade me, that I may freely disclose unto you, yet the respect I beare to that invisible deity which I apprehend to be in you, will not permit me to discover it, unlesse I first be permitted and commanded by you so to doe. I giving him thanks for this his so courteous opinion of me, answered him, that considering the mutuall relation betweene him and I, of Lord and Vassall, knew not how such a request could fittingly be made to me; yet I would pray him not to set a barre before his will: and judging my selfe apt and able to keep such a gage if committed to my trust, if he thought me worthy of it; did assure him, I would reserve it within my bosom, lockt up by the same key, as it had beene till that time locked up in his. He exceedingly well pleased with this answer, with a trembling voice and sparkling eye, proceeded, saying, I believe, [Page 24]Lady, you know my Fathers intention is to give me a Wife, but a­mong many propounded unto him, it is not yet perceived upon which of them he doth or will resolve. I have not hitherto cared to take any thought therefore, indifferency having made me free, and conse­quently content with such a one as he should chuse for me.

But since your happy arrivall at this Court, I feele a suddain altera­tion and change; For being free, I find my self made subject to your incomparable beauty, and vertues: and of contented as I was of any election my Father should make for me, I cannot be pleased with any but mine own, which of necessity I must prepose to all others: any other wife being not able to satisfie me; nor I having so much power over my self, as to will to take any other. I do not believe my Father will deny you to me. Your Nobility and the lustre of your incompa­rable vertues in rendring you worthy to felicitate and make happy a greater Prince then my selfe; But I would not speak unto him before I had spoken to your self, beginning even from this hour to resigne my will totally up to yours. I who had already conceived Almaderoes love within my self, as it was represented unto me barely, by mine own bare imagination, feeling thereby no commotion at all within my self; but now being conveied to mine internall sences, in its reall be­ing. I felt my heart so battered and bruised therewith; that laying away those rigidnesses which I used in answering my brothers, I so far inclined to pitty (but why speak I of pitty? Let not the truth be concealed) I yielded so farre to an extream love, that if Almadero had not been a suiter to me, I should have made suit to him: Yet in this suddain perturbation, the Image of those letts which had been so maturely calculated by me when I was my selfe, and free from passion, being still before mine eyes, having made a new and short examination of my self, I answered him, Sir, The businesse which you propose unto me, it being to seat me in an extream happinesse (so far that I want conceptions to expresse how much I am therefore bound to you) is lyable to more objections then you imagine; For you my Lord are already married many years since: yours and my Cosen Bru­nichilde being appointed to be your Spouse. I know it by your Fa­thers will, who long since revealed this secret to mine, neither is a­ny thing expected for the publication thereof but maturity of yeares. Therefore I humbly beseech you, that continuing your gracious in­clination towards me under some other title, you will assure your self that Liarta (being not to attain so high a happinesse as to be your wife) will adore you all the daies of her life (which can be but short) as the most obliged servant and vassall that ever you are like to have. The Prince was so grieved at so unexpected an answer, that through sorrow he had like to have been beside himself. And though he knew I had not spoken this casually, yet hee would understand me better, examining me more particularly concerning it. But having apprehended how, Brunichildes Education, and other circumstances, did Iumpe with this my advice, he took my hand and most affectio­nately kissing it said, Lady and Mistrisse, Since fortune pretends to [Page 25]oppose me, with an opposition by me not imagined, I purpose to reop­pose it, with a resolution the world thinks not of. And taking this Dia­mond which I wear from off his finger, putting it on mine, he said, Almadero espouseth Liarta, in the presence of Heaven. He would have proceeded further, when I interrupting him, he stood still to hear me. May it please you my Lord (said I) that this your too courteous re­solution concerning me, being suddain, may remain a while suspended; Till there may be added unto it, if there be any part wanting, either of reason or counsell. There can befall me no greater happinesse then that of being your wife. But what misery shall equall mine, if being made so, if you shall be forced to forsake me for another by the just obedience due to your Father? He again kissing me, answered, Take you no care for that Lady. My Father may deny you me, but can ne­ver force any other upon me. You are mine, and I yours. And if this marriage should have any such hard fortune as not to be published during my Fathers life; I shall notwithstanding neverthelesse not ab­stain from loving, respecting, and courteously entreating of you. All this might have been confuted by me with very good reasons, which would not have failed me, but ardent love tryannising over me would not suffer me to do it, perswading me, that if my good counsells should take effect, they would prove most pernicious to me, seeing my death would certainly through grief ensue. Remaining then in this manner wife to Almadero, I would not permit him to consum­mate the marriage unlesse he first gave my brothers notice thereof; which he deferred not, thinking the hour too long a comming in which he should possesse me; It being come, our delights increased as the difficulties and dangers grew of his being with me. So that he lan­guished by reason he could not every night steal to me out of the Pa­lace. He had a very faithfull squire who knew this secret, but he could not alone manage an affair of such an importance; It not being possible for Princes to blind the eyes of so many Argus's as they have about them. He would put off his clothes, and go to bed before them all, and would rise again and put them on, this squire alone helping him; and then he left him alone locked up in his own Chamber where he lay. He went down alone into the Garden, comming out at which door he found my brothers ready, accompanied him and brought him back again. All which could not be done without being buzzed abroad, that the Prince in love with some Lady went every night out of the Palace. Which though it were very well liked of by the Court, being glad to have an enamoured Prince, was not plea­sing to us; who certain how the case was, would have had every one else to stand in doubt of it. Neither could we ever discover how this businesse should come to be known, unlesse it were that passing once through the Garden, and being casually seen, he had given occa­sion of being watched at other times. For being known by the way, my brothers would likewise have been known, and consequently the businesse would have been discovered, which notwithstanding was never known. The first who gave us notice thereof was the squire, be­ing [Page 26]advertised by some companion of his, who had heard a buzzing of it. He told him, that the noise thereof being publick, it was im­possible it should not at last (if it was not already) come to the King his Fathers eares, who in case he should desire to get the truth out of him, as from him who was the most intimate of all his ser­vants, how should he alone have been able to deny that which all the world affirmed? He besought him to refrain going out (some nights at least) to the end that not being taken in the fact, he might have way to lie strongly. This businesse displeased us both, and the Prince had much adoe to be perswaded to follow the squires advice: which if he had not done, the businesse would have been discovered at that time: for the King being informed thereof, had already placed spies abroad about the Garden door, to observe whither he went, more for curiosity, then any distaste he took at it. But judging that these his escapes were sufficient reasons, to delay no longer, the giving him a wife, and seeing also that he being advised of the waits which were laid for him, he staid at home, commending his cautelousnesse, hee sent for him, and without taking notice of any such matter, said un­to him; Son, I have sent for you for a most important (but pleasing) businesse, nature so requiring, and your youth leading me to it. I am old, and it is the property of such an age to desire (as a Father) to see my succession secured, not onely in your self and your brother, but in you, and your posterity: Which done shall I die contented. I am resolved to give you a wife, which for conformity of blood, age, and beauty, you cannot chuse but very well like of. The Prince (who a long time since had with our mutuall advice concluded what answer to make to such a request) readily replied, Sir, The busi­nesse which your Majesty propounds unto me, if it were not of such importancy as you tell me, and with those priviledges which are an­nexed to it, the Authority of Lord and Father, yea, your onely beck of inclination and desire, should have had power to make me obedi­ent. Wherefore (if your Majestie please) I will be ready to submit my self unto this yoak; which of it self heavy, I imagine would be most insupportable, if it should so happen, that the wife should not prove according to the husbands mind. Which seeing it may so be, I humbly beg of your Majesty: that if I should not like of her whom you shall propound unto me, you will give me leave to chuse me one; seeing that in the casting of this dye consists the chance of my good or evill. The King, who expected from his Son an absolute and not conditionall obedience: did very distastfully receive this answer; con­ceiving by it and the relations he had heard, that his love had been drawn after some evill consequences. But dissembling what he sus­pected, he replied without any sign of alteration: Prince Almadero, I held you to be more discreet towards me, then you are, and that you had a better opinion of me then you have: but I pardon you, though you accuse me, as old of small prudency, and as a Father, of want of affection. This believing me to be ill advised, and void of love in a thing which so much imports you, proceeds from your own being ill [Page 27]advised, and want of love in your selfe: You pretend the chusing of a Wife to belong to you, but upon what grounds? of Law, or of Nature? if of Nature, it may either be good or evill, well or ill in­clined. If evill, the Lawes have power to correct it; if good, it can­not be good, unlesse the effects thereof be good: if upon the ground of the Lawes, what are those Lawes, Common, or Particular? If common, take heed they be not against you. If particular, of what Nation shall they be? of our own, by no meanes. If others, you may peradventure hit upon some which will make you three times more your Fathers slave, and render him absolute Lord over all your actions, Wife, Children; yea of your very life, and death. Nature set you in the world by meanes of a Father, nourishes you by him, and by him puts you in the way of action.

And if in brute beasts, the Mothers care doe last until the time of the young ones material subsistency, to the end they may not be abando­ned: why shall it not be the same in men, till they have got a perfect subsistency of reason, by which onely man is able to govern himselfe? Nature permits not liberty of marriage in any man, unlesse the nup­tialls be first contracted by her self, together with his owne perfect judgement: neither is that man of perfect judgement, who pretends to emancipate himselfe from his Fathers obedience. The Lawes (if a Father by death comes to faile) give tutors till the age of five and twenty yeares; and shall you who are scarce fifteen, your Father be­ing alive, and a King, pretend to have free will in a thing which hath in your age no reason nor end, but pleasure, and sence? fountaines of beatitude to delight, but in humane actions, two most unfaithful and foolish Councellers. The Wife which I intend to give you, is Bruni­childe, a noble and beautifull maid. Could I chuse you a better? Al­demero, who at his Fathers angry words, full of humility, had cast himself upon his knees, kissing his hand to mitigate his wrath, answer­ed, Sir, I confesse I erre in many things: and if in this particular I have committed a fault against your Majesty (as I question not, see­ing your Majesty hath been pleased to repute it such) I most humbly begge your pardon and though I do not of my self deserve it, let the error it self make me worthy of it, which being of ignorance, ought to be remissible. But as for the reverence which I owe unto your Royal Majestie, I beseech you not to have any such opinion of me, although the confidence which I have in your goodnesse, and father­ly tendernesse (which I have alwaies found to mine ineffable con­tent) should make me againe seem to erre in alledging reasons for my selfe, and make me appeare as it were contumacious. I doe not pre­tend to have any choice or election in any thing, unlesse it be by you granted me through your beignity: which being laid as a founda­tion, let your Majesty give me leave to tell you, that Nature can not be corrected by any Law, it being the fountaine from which all lawes derive: neither ought that Law be esteemed good, which any way opposes or declines from that nature. But if your Majestie meanes by nature, evill inclinations, the difference is as great as it is biggest in [Page 28]things which have no analogy nor similitude at all amongst them­selves; so that if it were granted to have recourse unto nature, I would have recourse to that which gives, and not to that which re­ceives Lawes. As for the other, which are used according to the dif­ferent institutes of particular Nations, I will confesse none of them to be unjust, but such as any way derogate from fatherly authority: yet amongst all those, there is not one which gives them leave to ap­point wives for their Sonnes which are not pleasing to them. Yea the divine Law, setting her hand to this, doth declare invalid, all mar­riages which are contracted without the mutuall consent of those who are espoused and knit together; a manifest argument, that if Fa­thers authority alone were sufficient, such a consent would be unne­cessary. I conclude therefore (alwaies saving the respects due to fa­therly obedience, which I will never exclude, nor that of parity of blood and honesty) the father cannot without injustice, deny to satis­fie his Son in so just a request, and that if he do not so, it is no longer authority (but to speak truth) a fatherly tyranny. As for the choice you have made of my Cozen Brunichilde, I confesse your Majesty could not have made it better, being considered meerely of it selfe. But ma­ny things, though good, are not alwayes good in all men, and the love which I bear unto her, being become professe in the habit of Brother­hood, will not suffer me to put on a second habit so contrary to the first. The passages which are made from one, being to another, though by chance they may be easie, yet they are in Nature either impossible or monstrous. Her infantile estate, cannot but be against my stomack: Every one will thinke us coupled together rather to make babies, then get Children: and I being bound to love my wife, (seeing without a fervent affection, marriages are unfortunate) mine will be most unhappy, seeing that under that title, I shall never be able to love her. The neerenesse of blood also which is between us, should not passe for an inconsiderable argument, for we see foales begotten by stallions, upon Mares of the same race, (though they be very handsome) prove ill favoured and degenerous; and shall we think nature by the same unknown reason, may not work the same in us, so that imagining to beget Children, it may produce monsters? But grant that this doe not follow (seeing that we, divers in kinds, may be diversly disposed, which generally is not so, rationability not ma­king this difference: let it be lawful for me, Sir, humbly to aske you, what necessity is there for me to take such a Childe to wife against my will, seeing by her we contract no affinity with Princes, we ob­taine no benefits of state, no friendships, no peaces, nor any such things. Wherefore there being no urgent cause for it, why shall not the urgency of my satisfaction prevaile, especially with so just a King, and so loving a Father? and also if you will be satisfied with my marrying one of our own blood, will you be pleased to let the In­fanta Liarta be she; for she being a Princesse endowed with all man­ner of vertues which may cause a woman to be beloved, I will in no wise refuse her. The King had all this while with delight hearkned [Page 29]to his Sonne without any alteration at all, when at this last period he did hang down his head, and having a while bethought him, he rose, and without any more speaking went away from him. Almadero stood astonished at this act, and withdrawing, presently writ to me what had happened: and I taking it for a bad augury, writ to him againe, praying him for the present, to forbeare his nightly voyages, till time should level the way to us for some more mature deliberation. The King, in whom age and practise had refined his natural pruden­cie, presently imagined after he had named me, how the case stood; and were it his zeale to be obeyed, or my Brethrens nature by him ab­horred, and who he believed would become insupportable by this marriage, he fully resolved not to suffer the going forward of it: and too late repenting, his causing me to come to Court, he resolved to vend me away from it, by presently marrying me away. Lusitania hath for some hundred years, possessed all that Country which lies between the two Rivers of Ana, and Betis, the King, my Grandfather, having conquered it in his youth, the faire City of Hispalis being compre­hended therein; whence many Warres had ensued, smothered up through weariness, rather then by any accord or peace made. Now the King of it treated of giving his Daughter to Almadero, and the ces­sion of all his pretended rights in that Country for a Dowry. Where­unto Viriato would never assent, it seeming to him an unworthy act, to confesse that not to be his, which by his Fathers valour, was here­ditarily fallen to him. Now changing his deliberation, he thought to deprive himselfe thereof upon mine occasion, intending my marriage with the Prince of Betica, should take me off from pretending that of his Sonne, and his pretences to mine, being already married. Alma­dero, on the other side, intended whatsoever should come of it, to break off this treatise, resolved (being so advised by my brothers) to send thither likewise as privately as possibly be could. And having to that end made choice of a favourite he had called Dragillo, he gave him Letters of credence, commanding him disguised to make all the speed he could to get to Betica before the Ambassadors arrival thither. His Commission being to represent unto that King, that the Propositions which were to be made to him by his Fathers Ambassa­dor, would be of none effect, being without his or the states con­sent. That the interest was publique, belonging both to him and them: seeing it was therein treated of dismembring that part of the Kingdome, which (though anciently belonging to Betica) was late­ly joyned and annexed to the Lusitanian Crown, and consequently inseparable from it, without the same authority, by which it was formerly by a decree united. That the Infanta Liarta, was not ca­pable of marriage out of the Kingdome, because the succession fal­ling to her (as it might for want of other Heirs) the Kingdome would never have endured a Forrainers Government. That these rea­sons taking no effect, he should alledge these other two, of which the first should be of advice, the second of proffer. Of advice, that Liarta was already married, and with child. Of proffer, that if he [Page 30]would not give ear to his Father Viriato, he promised him by the faith of a Prince, Solemnly to restore unto him with the authority of the States, after his Fathers decease, without any condition, that which now was by him proffered under condition of this marriage. That if he would do him this favour, besides the profit which would re­dound, he should ever remain much obliged to him; proffering him a perpetuall, reall, and undoubted amitie. I heard of this expedition by my brothers after it was made, and took such grief at it, that it had like to have cost me my life. Judging that if there were a necessity of preci­pitating the businesse, there had been less evil to reveal it to the King his Father, then, with so much dammage and shame, to his enemies: For besides that, prudence would have advised him to make a vertue of necessity: seeing that the businesse being irrevocable, he would not have been so much offended as he was: offence joined with a certainty of making him an irreconcileable enemy. Besides, he last proffer was most impertinent and superfluous. There being no likelyhood that I should bee accepted for a wife, after the advice was given that I was married and with child. The King had reason to hate my brothers: who wholly degenerating from my Father, breathed nothing but avarices, expecting but the hour to govern, yea to swallow up their Uncle, the Kingdom, their Cozen, and my self. I laboured, as much as in me lay, to make them see the foolish obstinacy of their Councills; But perceiving it was in vain to hope to retain water in a sive, I resolved to write to the Prince, be­seeching him to call Dragillo back. But hee unfortunate being espied and pursued, was taken with his letters and instructions, not above halfe a daies journey from Olisipho: Which being read by Viriato he alte­red his purpose, the businesse being changed: recalling his Am­bassadour which was not gone far, and demanding of the Prince the Key of his study, perswading himself that there he should have found other things, He met with the rough draft of the instruction written by one of my brothers own hands, and with other letters of mine, that which I had last of all written to him, which onely had power to justifie me. For being certified by the instructions that his son was married to me; and Dragillo his confession upon the rack, that he was sent by the advise of my brethren: His anger was so great, that if they had not fled upon the advice of this imprisonment, he would irremis­sibly have put them presently to death, as he did Dragillo for the first act of our Tragedie, Sending me for the second, with a good guard, into a strong Castle between the River Tagus and Ana, called Leuci­ana. The Prince being in an instant struck with an astonishment by the death of his servant, the flight of his Kinsmen, and mine imprison­ment, was like to be cast down; For finding his Father inexorable to­wards Dragillo, not satisfied by his confessing himself to be onely guilty, and worthy of death, nor offering his own life to save the o­thers; Perswading himself hee would use the same rigor towards my person as he had done towards Dragillo, he took his bed, and had such symptomes, that it was thought many times he would have died. So [Page 31]that the King (though once resolved not to see him) could not con­tain himself from visiting him, and mitigating his grief, by promising he would not proceed to any further punishment with me: the pre­sent being by him termed but a correction. He took heart, more through anxiety of desiring to save me, then any desire he had to live, he did, within some few daies, forsake his bed. In the mean time, the case being divulged as it was, most men did judge that the King had proceeded therin with more passion then reason, generally cōdemning his resolution of taking from the Crown so noble a member, acquired with the subjects blood, under the conduct of the King his Father; That though the Prince had the same resolution, he was excusable, as young, resolved thereunto by force, and having taken longer time to do it, and not excluded the vote of the States. That his taking me to wife was an act of great prudencie, I being sufficient to govern the Kingdom, and to set him in the way, of so doing, if his Father should chance to die. There being no other Princes of the blood but my bro­thers, who would have been debarred from all licentiousnesse if I were Queen. The reason of common interests by blood, giving me authority to govern them. Whereas without my respect, with their prerogative they might have put all to confusion. And would have done it, if Brunichilde a child had been preferred before Liarta a wo­man. Deviaco his vertues were rehearsed, his valour, and the servi­ces he had done. That the same worth was in me, and would be no otherwise; being a fruit of such a plant, nourished, and cultivated by him. But if such discourses were so free in City and Country, they were no lesse at Court. I and my brothers favoured, if not for our own sakes, yet for our Father his deserts: and Almadero exceeding well beloved as ever any Prince was; So that Viriato in a day remain­ed in a manner excluded out out of all mens hearts. But he holding his authority sufficient to doe, cared little what liberty other men took in speaking. Yet he fixed a deep displeasure in his heart, and took notice of the persons who did so: but time not permitting him to manifest his resentment, he concealed it; resolving howsoever to be obeyed, and to disanul my marriage, though I was with child. So much doth the jealousie of Empire prevail in Princes. And in effect all these disturbances had no other Origine; for the question being of two, who were both Neeces: the disadvantage which he pretended on my side, was the suspicion of my brethrens greatnesse he being alive. Which disadvantage was counterpoised by this advantage, that he dying, the State remained quiet, and peaceable by mine occa­sion, there being no question that by the other marriageal would have been turned upside down, whereas by my marriage there was no reason to fear any trouble, the Princes and my opposition being suffi­cient to cause them to live in peace. They in the mean time being re­tired to their own home, in their own conceipts secure from any disturbance, heard presently of mine imprisonment, the execution of Dragillo, and a thundering edict against themselves, being proclaimed seducers of the Prince, disturbers of the publick peace, and guilty of [Page 32]treason. Their Lands forfeited to the Crown, their persons banished upon paine of death, with large rewards for those who should bring them either alive, or dead, which proved the Bellowes to kindle their rage; For thinking themselves to be too evill intreated, consi­dering their quality, too rigorously in comparison of their offence, and without any accompt made of their humiliations interposed by meanes of friends, they were moved with such disdaine, that they resolved their Uncles death, which not possible to be obtained any other way, they purposed to purchase with their own ruines, having no respect or regard of me, the Prince, or Kingdom.

They first resolved to set forth a stinging Declaration to stirre up the subjects hearts, then having raised a sufficient Army, with the secret assistance of the Tingitanian, they so troubled for three months that flourishing Country, that the King forced by the imminent re­bellions, rather then by his Councils advice, recalled his Proclama­tions, and penalties: Conditionally that laying downe their armes, they should crave pardon of him, which they did being absent: not laying down their wrath, nor desirous of vengeance. It being mani­festly perceived, that what he had condescended unto, was but through meer violence, to accommodate himselfe to the times. See­ing that otherwise, he retained his former rigidnesse towards me, the Prince, and themselves: they not being able to obtaine amongst the articles of peace, that of my deliverance: having mitigated the ef­fects of his cruelty, by saying it was not fit that any should set him down a law how to punish his Children, and putting me into that number, sought to allure our hopes by such a title, to the end hee might be the better able to deceive us. The Prince who out of his naturall goodnesse, had till then expected with patience, the ebbing of his Fathers wrath, finding in this occasion the most forcible of all, that he expected in vaine, was like to fall into despaire; and be­ing able to endure any thing, save onely my absence, he resolved to free me at any price. On a day after he had revolved many thoughts in his heart, kneeling before his Father, he said, Sir, I am now almost sixteen yeares of age compleat: Neither is there any Prince of my age, that stayes so long at home at ease. Wherefore I have delibe­rated to beseech you, to give me leave to goe abroad, being an ar­med Knight, desiring to receive this Order by no other more valiant, or happilier presaging hand then yours. And if my former mis-for­tunes should peradventure make you believe that my resolution were upon any other occasion, I should not altogether deny it hoping I should not wholly displease you, if I should doe as those — which in raine come forth of the — and goe in againe in faire weather. The raine of distasts, which by mine ill fortune (yet sore a­gainst mine intention) I have to my extreame sorrow occasioned in you, invite me to spend some time voluntarily abroad: Till mine actions, and a manifest penitency, afford me the cleare and serene skie of your favour. His Father rejoycing at this his resolution (in hope that the diversity of Climates would alter his Sonnes affections, [Page 33]not considering that amorous forces have power not onely to change nature, but also to reduce innocency and simplicity, to malice and cunning) very well contented answered; Prince, I commend your resolution, and am therewith satisfied, I being ready also to give you satisfaction in any thing wherein vertue shall be your aime. I will arme you Knight, hoping, that having laid aside the — of your owne House for some time, you will for ever lay aside that which with too bold an obstinacy you had taken upon you, against the re­spect due to my obedience. Almadero would make no reply, fearing to overthrow his designes; But kissing his hand was within three dayes, with much solemnity made Knight, Brunichilde (being so com­manded) girding on his sword. And the next day armed, having taken leave of those who accompanied him, feignedly directed his course towards Gaule, as he had made his father, and all the Court believe. My Brothers having heard of his departure, were extreamly grieved at it, firmly believing, that the marriage being voided, and I lost mine honour, (mother of a Bastard to the Kingdome of Lusita­nia) they would for ever remaine infamous. Wherefore, if before they were incensed against their Uncle, their evill talent was now much increased, thinking that his very life would scarce be sufficient recompence for their wronged honours: and knowing that would displease Almadero, they thought I should be sufficient to appease him. Or that fortified in his absence, they would at his returne trouble and tire him, and peradventure deprive him of the Crown, concep­tions which would all easily enter into their corrupt imaginations. Almadero, as soon as he saw himselfe deprived of their advices, be­came intimate with Philarchus a young Knight, but of as good un­derstanding as any could be of his age, with whom having conferred about his designes, he caused him to aske leave of his Father many dayes before he craved licence for himselfe, under the same pretence of seeking adventures, who having obtained it, went out of Lusita­nia, entring in the Kingdome of Castile, staying there unknown, till the comming of Almadero, who being come, he took his armes from him and put them on, giving him many Letters dated from those places which lay in the way to Gaule, to send them to the King by the ordinary messengers. So that if Viriato should have imagined his Son to lie lurking in Lustiania, he might be put out of such thoughts, by the continuall advices he received from him. Almadero therefore ha­ving pull'd off his armes, as I said, clothed himselfe in a pastorall habite. And having passed over the River Tagus, left his Esquire in a remote place farre out of the way, re-entring into Lusitania alone towards the Castle where I was kept, whither he arrived without any disturbance in few dayes afoot, lightlier, and with more ease, then another would have done, though accustomed to long journeys. His Father had caused him to be watched, till he was gone out of the Kingdome. But those who had order so to doe, observing that hee had taken through Castile the right way to Gaule, returned, bringing with them the first Letters which he had left in the hands of the Go­vernour [Page 34]who was appointed upon those Frontires. This his bold re­solution had fortune only for its basis and foundation. For Dorcallo Captain and Keeper of Leuciana was most faithfull to the King, though he had before been a most affectionate servant to my Father. So that it was impossible without him he should either speak with me, or let me so much as know he was in the Country.

And I, though my windowes being near the wall, enjoyed the prospect of the fields, never looked out. My onely comfort being to be continually accompanied by bitter tears, and heart-breaking sighes. But what thing can be so difficult that doth not become easie, or so hard, that may not be penetrated by love? He devised to be­come acquainted with a certain shepheard dwelling there close by, and having told him some tales of a mother in law he had, and having given him some pieces of Gold, as in deposite to assure him of his ser­vice, he obtained of him the keeping of his flock; and driving it out to feed into the Castle dike, as he had seen his master do, he began to cry aloud Lilla, Lilla, as if he had called back some one of his sheep, which had been disbanding from the rest, and casting clodds of earth after it with the paddle end of his staffe as true shepheards do, ceased not, replying the same word. The King when he sent me to prison, had taken away all my men, and maiden servants, save onely this one whom you see here, called Dorilla. She by chance standing at the window, and setting her eye upon such a handsome youth, was so sa­tisfied (to not say taken) therewith, that she could not refrain com­ming presently to me to tell me, how there was come over against our Balcone the handsomest young shepheard that ever was seen, very busie with a disobedient stubborn sheep, which hee incessantly was calling back to come to the rest by the name of Lilla; a name indeed which of it self was of a gentile sound; but especially being uttered by such a pretty mouth: And having told me so much, she desired me to come to the window to take a little fresh air and recreate my selfe. I hearing that name, found my self moved at it. Lilla being my self, so formerly called in jest by Almadero in our amorous discourses. I a­rose and looked out, feigning I did it onely to give her satisfaction. I was no sooner come thither to look whither it were he or no, but he saw me, turning his eyes towards the window, feighning I did it onely to give her satisfaction. I was no sooner come thither to look whither it were he or no, but he saw me, turning his eyes towards the window, feigning to turn them another way. He did not for a long time call upon the figurative Lilla, the true one, which he so much desired, being come in his sight. But taking breath a while, af­ter this unexpected joy, in a rustick manner pulling off his hat to me; he began again with a more cheerfull voice to call upon the sheep: which caused so much pleasure to me, that it was sufficient in an in­stant to make me forget all the miseries I had formerly suffered. Oh how willingly would I have spoken to him, if I had not feared. I doubted my Damzell had known him: but she who fed onely upon looking on him, the image of Almadero being far from her imagina­tion, [Page 35]could not contain from doing of her self that, which peradven­ture she would not have done if I had requested her. She asked him how he durst adventure to come and feed his Flock in the Castle dike without the Captains leave? He holding up his head, but with his hat drawn down close over his eyes, answered, Lady, the shepheard my master hath sufficient leave. Such Castles as these, especially in time of peace, are not so strictly looked unto. And hath not the Captain him­self a Garden planted and manured in the dike next to the Castle gate? And besides, Captaines do not use to fear or mistrust men of our trade, Almadero could not frame himself to so much Rusticity, but that Dorilla presently perceived that his language and idiome was not common. Wherefore having asked him whence he was, he answering her of Castile, she no more marvelled at it; that language, especially in comparison of the Lusitanian, being the sweetest and po­litest language of all Iberia. Whilst she with great content stood lean­ing upon the Balcone talking with him, I had time, standing behind her, to make signes to him, that I knew him. She asking him why he was come out of his own Country? To recover my Lilla, said he. Have you her not then replied she. Is not that it you took even now such paines with, to bring her back to the rest? I have her not (an­swered he) though she be alwaies with me; My master takes her a­way from me. But I will have her again whatsoever it cost me, because she may be mine own, and not anothers; And what will you give him for her? said Dorilla. To which he answered; a years wages if he would ask it. She asking him how much his wages was? he answered, hee knew not: But my Lilla, said he, would not be so much worth as she is, if I or others could limit her price. But you Lady might peradven­ture by your authority procure that I might have her, which if you would do, I should be so much bound to you, that Lilla and I would remain yours all the daies of our life, and would reward you in such manner as you should esteem your self happy. Dorilla laughed at the young shepheards simagined implicity: neither would she have gone from thence, if I (fearing some misfortune) had not commanded her to come away. Wherefore being constrained so to do: She went away with an ill will, having first promised the shepehard to do what shee could for the restitution of his Lilla: which hee much rejoyced at, made her new proffers, which in such a person as he was, seemed to correspond to the rest of his imagined follies. Having withdrawn my self far more unwilingly then Dorilla, I diligently examined the mean­of all Almaderoes speeches, found that hee having an intent to get me away from thence, judged it could not well be done without my Maid. The danger was great, but I did not fear it, saving my case could not be brought to a worser condition. For if I had died while I was in prison, it had been a great comfort in prison, being reduced to live without Almadero. Thus I resolved, I would not lose the occa­sion of speaking to her, wherefore (she being not able to get the sup­posed shepheard out of her mind) I said to her, Me thinks Dorilla thou art strangely taken with this young man. Do not blush, nor seek [Page 36]to conceal it from me, for thou canst not. Who knowes but that his internall condition (which others see not) be not far different from his externall, and his course habit? Truely I cannot believe but hee is some great mans son, for it seems impossible that a meer Country fellow, should be endowed with so much beauty, and such gracious behaviour. Whereunto she answered: Madam, I am not yet come to that passe as you imagine: for though beauty be the object of love, (especially a singular one as this mans is) yet it doth not alwaies take one effect. And you (Madam) find it at the present in your self. Though not stung as (to not dissemble) I confesse I am. Imparitie is of too great importancie to a woman that esteems her reputation; for if she should make choice of a husband of base condition, it being an argument of lubricitie in her, would make her abominable in o­ther womens sights. I must confesse (Madam) that were he not what he is, I should die with desire of having him; being as he is, But I must sacrifice such a desire upon the Altars of honesty and honour. A woman (Madam) that loves, is not to be blamed, affections being naturall. But she is questionlesse praise-worthy, that loving against the common Lawes of conveniencie, chuseth rather to die, then give her selfe satisfaction, Dorilla uttered all these reasons with such a passion, that one might very well apprehend, her greatest passion was, that there were reasons against it. But her reasons being not correspon­dent to mine ends; I was forced to feign I understood them in ano­ther sence. Wherefore I said to her, Dorilla, I cannot chuse but com­mend thee extreamly, that armed with gentlenesse and honesty, thou seekest, by overcoming thy self, to conquer those two great powers, Nature and Love. But tell me I pray thee, what wouldest thou infer, when presupposing that beauty the object of Love doth not alwaies attain the same end; you tell me, I find it in the present occasion? Thinkest thou that being what I am, I ought to be indiffe­rently subject to every beauty? knowest thou not that another beau­ty in condition equall to mine estate, hath heretofore attained its end in me? whereby (whether I will or no) I come to be freed from the punctures of any new sight whatsoever? which being so, how much more shal I be free, from being stung by a person so disproportionable to me; The beauties of Prince Almadero have so pricked me already, that I can not be subject to any further punctures. If that were not, I should not be here now, nor should I be subject to those evills, which make me commiserate thine. But if I have such compassion on thee, onely moved thereunto by discreet reason, thou being a woman, sub­ject as well as another to these passions (not putting it to thine ac­compt that we are not obliged, so much as to imagine them to be beauties, which may any way damnifie us in others opinions) why dost not thou compassionate me, who am so much more worthy of it, then thee, as in my love there is not any thing, can yeeld me any blemish in any bodies opinion whatsoever? Dorilla was astonished at these words: seeming to her to be spoken (as in deed they were) out of the purpose, and without any reason. Wherefore being in a great [Page 37]confusion she answered me. I know not (Madam) why you speake this to me, I never had any intent to offend you, Heaven knowes it and my will ever was, and shall be, to serve you. Mine opinion is not so indiscreet, as to believe you subject to the beauties of a poor shep­heard, Yea, quite the contrary. In the meane time (Madam) please you to give me leave to aske you, what you ever discovered in me, that should make me seem to you without compassion, and without that passionate affection I have to desire, your case may have as hap­py a period as you your selfe can wish? and if nothing else can make you believe me, let mine interests perswade you, seeing that in your misadventures, it being my fortune to serve you, I cannot pretend to have any greater reward then from your selfe, nor any hope to attain to it, but by your being Princesse of Lusitania, and in time Queene. But if I were so happy, as to have you esteeme mine affections graft­ed upon yours without this basenesse of interests, I should think my self already rewarded. Neither is this hard for you to believe, if you will but consider who you are, the vertues which are in you, and the courtesies wherewith you daily oblige me; for which, if I could as­sure you of my devotion, with deeds besides words, I would doe it without any reserve, not so much as of my life. I felt such comfort in this answer, seeing the words proceeded from her very heart, that having strictly embraced her, and most affectionately kissed her, I said. My deare Dorilla, what I said was not to charge thee with any thing, (knowing I had no reason for it) but onely to try thee: so that now trusting to thine entire fidelity, laying aside all manner of deceipt, I will discover all my secrets unto thee, assuring thee, that if Heaven please to favour my just desires, I will acknowledge thy vertuous inclination, with such termes of honour as are due to ver­tue, and fortune raising mine estate, will so raise thine, that none that belongs to me shall go beyond thee; she prostrating her selfe to kisse my hand, did reassure me of her fidelity, specifying that she esteem­ed her selfe more obliged to me then to the King: I causing her to rise, told her, That her shepheard was my Almadero: that the Lilla which he would have again was my selfe: the desiring her to inter­cede with her Master was, to assist with her helping hand in this bu­sinesse: and that the offers made in shepheards habit, were to be per­formed in termes of a Prince.

The good Gentlewoman seemed not a whit astonished at this my­stery: and after many speeches had passed, told me, she had many times in her selfe blamed the Prince, believing (by reason he stirr'd no way in this occasion) he had not loved me. And if she had not doubted to augment my grief, she would have told me so. But that now recalling her ill opinion of him, she esteemed him to be the fairest and worthiest Prince on earth. She lauged at her selfe and her love, glorying in that she had so well bestowed it, and boasting of her judgement that had dared to penetrate with her affection under that vile barque, into the pith of such high deserts. Now having a long time laughed and jeasted about this business, she proceeded, say­ing, [Page 38]That it was impossible for me to obtaine my liberty, but by sca­ling the walls, which could not then be done, I being so neare my time to be brought to bed: That as soone as I was eased of my bur­then, it would easily be done, seeing I was accompanied with two such great Champions, as generosity and love. That in the meane time I should set down in a little Letter, what seemed necessary for me, which should the next day be thrown down with a stone in it, to the end the Prince might have notice of what was intended to be done. But I asking how we should doe to come by an answer? shee answered me, there needed none. The Prince being able to answer me by word of mouth, and make himselfe to be understood as he had done not long since. But that in the meane time, she would en­deavour to procure Radimiro his good will, who was Dorcalloes Bro­ther, who made a shew of being desperately in love with her. But she did not hold it expedient to procure it as yet: it being to be pre­supposed, that affaires which were dangerous, being communica­ted, had no greater an enemy then delay, which I being necessitated to by reason of my present unweildinesse, it was good to secure our selves therein by not communicating them; but just when the busi­nesse was to be put in execution, Dorillaes wise propositions liked me wondrous well. For if Radimiro would be faithfull to me then, he would be the like to me now. But it was doubted whether we might trust him at all at any time. She thinking upon it a little while, an­swered me (Lady) I cannot assure my selfe of him no further then I have told you: and if necessity constraine us to trust some body, why so long before the time? Peradventure when he knowes the Prince, his presence, and his promises, may prevaile more with him then my words. But what good will this prevention doe, if there be no need of it: It will do good quoth I, for I know the Princes af­fections. He will desire to come up hither though he fly up, which can not be done, unlesse we can gaine the sentinel which by night stands here by. Now after many consultations writing was resolved upon, and if he resolved to come to me, then Radimiroes mind was to be tried. We writ, Aldemero came, I saluted him in her presence, therefore he knew to his great comfort that we were agreed, and ha­ving shewed him the Letter, it was thrown into the Dike to him, having first looked all about, beckening to him that he should be gone. But he returning after dinner, demanded ingresse as I had fore-seen he would. I writ to him again, that we knew not how to compasse it, unlesse we could win Radimiro to our side, having rela­ted to him the whole design. But he returning the next day, he gave us to understand, that he would not have Dorilla to treate with Ra­dimiro by any means, but that she should procure the meeting of the Prince and him. Radimiro came every day to visite me, being so com­manded by his brother as he told me; but I believe it was rather for love of Dorilla, or for some designe. For seeing her all alone by me, he might imagine that my businesse, being accommodated (as all the world hoped) it would prove an advantagious match for him. [Page 39]He failed not to come that very day, and just at that houre when Almadero disciplinating his sheep, was speaking to us. He said, he brought me news that I should have a Nurse, a Gentlewoman of very noble behaviour, but poor, and that she would give me very good satisfaction. I was going to give him an answer, when Dorilla inter­rupting us, lead him to the window, asking him, whether Castles were kept in that manner, by letting the Enemy at noon day take the Dike, and lodge himself there with a whole Regiment, pointing at Almadero and his flock. Radimiro smiling at Dorilaes jesting, had an­swered her, if fixing his eyes upon the shepheard (who merrily fixed his eye upon him) had not been as it were out of himself, knowing the Prince, or at least a face which was very like him. Dorilla seeing him so astonished, said, what aileth you? Doe you want reasons to an­swer me, as well as courage to defend the counter-scarfe? Doe not you see him ready to assault the Cortine, and having taken it, to take us also away? Radimiro not regarding these toyes, said unto me, Ma­dam, you do not see what I see? If I were not more then certaine that our Prince is now in Gaule (I having spoken with such as met him by the way) I would say that shepheard were he, disguised in those ragges. I shall not be so happy, replied she. And looking upon him as if she had not before observed him, she answered, Surely you have very good reason to say so, for he is exceeding like him. But if he went away as you say, how can he now be here? He may very well (answered Dorilla) if he be of the nature of spirits, who are any where they desire. But if this be he, he had rather be here with us, then amongst a company of such insipid and foolish beasts. Radi­miro observing the authority wherewith the shepheard looked upon him, began to suspect how it was, and turning towards me againe, said, Madam, I should live in too much anxiety, if I did not go pre­fently to look upon that face at a nearer distance. Doe I pray, said I, but go by your self, and say nothing to any one else. I'le beware of that, quoth he, neither will speak with him here below for severall good respects. When he was gone, we beckoned to Almadero that he was comming. He presently understood us, as if he had been all his life time accustomed to speake by signes. He went away before with his sheep, taking the way of the Wood: Radimiro following a farre off, never losing him out of sight. Being gone out of the way, he staid in a place covered with Trees, expecting him, where Radi­miro having over-taken him, knew him presently: and having first looked about very carefully, he said, My Lord, Let me crave pardon of your highnesse, if I speak in these Clothes and keep on my Hat: I know you, and therefore fear lest you should be known by some bo­dy else. I imagine the cause of your comming in this manner; and am here ready to receive your commands, intreating you onely to be more wary: for your royal face is not onely imprinted in the hearts, but in the memory also of your subjects, wherefore it will be hard for you to escape unknown. Almadero thanked him for his good will, with such curteous termes, as would have been impossible for any [Page 40]man else to utter, and said, Radimiro. I shall not need to spend many words touching my comming hither in this habit, thou knowest it, and art not a whit deceived in it. The Infanta my Lady is here in thy brothers custody; I would release her: if thou wilt be instrumen­tall to me in it, I promise thee in the faith of a Bride (when my time shall be come) to exalt thee in such man­ner, as thou shalt have no occasion to envie any one. I know the enterprise is hard, but if your brother would assist in it, it would be easie. Tell me thy mind, and where thou canst not help me with effects, assist me with counsell, Of me (answered Radi­miro) your Highnesse may assure himself of whatsoever a most faith­full servant is able to do, fearing no danger, nor yet your fathers anger. For if it be my fortune to serve you, I have served my Prince. If diso­beyed your Father, I have disobeyed nothing but his fashions, which every one mislikes. My brother I dare not trust; Not but that he is your servant as much as any one can be; but he is of such an austere nature, that his Oath will hold him indissolubly conjoined to his Majesty. As for the rest give me to advise with my self, and give me time to consider what I had best to do for your service, unlesse you have already resolved what you will do. The resolution is already taken (replied Almadero) I will have the Infanta as soon as she is delivered of her childe, seeing it is impossible to have her now with­out eminent danger of life. In the mean time I must imagine some way to be with her; The shortest, peradventure, will be to gain the Sentinell, and scale the wall. My Lord, said Radimiro, howsoever give me time, that I may not onely think of it, but also consult with the Infanta, and Dorilla; To morrow at this hour and in this place, I will give an answer. Almadero returned to his cottage as full fraught with hopes, as Radimiro came to my Chamber full of fears; where it was first resolved, that to corrupt the Sentinel was not hard, but a dan­gerous thing, seeing the next Sentinels might perceive it, or the round come by. But especially that the Sentinell being corrupted, must trust another and discover the businesse, thereby overthrow­ing my hope of liberty; which if it could not be obtained but by this onely way, we must then reserve all means to do it, and resolve to adventure upon any dangers whatsoever; It was also propounded that he should put on womens apparell, and under the name of Nurse be admmitted for some few daies. But this was not liked of, seeing he was so easie to be known, as he had been of Radimiro, and because hee was to come forth again: which he would not do. Many other things were spoken of, but all frivolous and impossible; When Dorilla more malicious and peradventure wiser then the rest propounded; That she taking in hand to feed a great company of silke-wormes to cause me to passe away the time. Radimiro should at once cause severall baggs of mulberie leaves to that purpose to be brought in, and that Aldemero should be one of the Porters. For having his face besmeared with durt and coal, he would not be taken notice of amongst so many, nor yet of his staying behind. This was concluded to be the best in­vention; [Page 41] Almadero having notice thereof made ready for the next day: having resigned his sheep into the shepheards hands, and asked leave to go a little way, which he easily obtained by meanes of the gold which remained in the shepheards hand. Radimiro having gotten together nine men for nine sacks of leaves; one being provided a pur­pose more then there were men, Almadero came by, who being con­strained, took the tenth by compulsion; Radimiro threatning him with a military insolence to cudgell him if he would not do it; having un­loaded his leaves, the other Porters went away. Almadero being gone by, last of all with his burthen into my Chamber, where neither re­garding smut nor dirt, he presently embraced and kissed me with such affection as Lovers use after they have been long debarred from such sport. While we thought our selves securely joyned together, and imagined we had brought our tossed ship to a firm Anchor, and might now sleep soundly, free from all suspicions and jealousies, in the calme Haven of Radimiroes fidelity. Fortune made us know wee could not live securely under her wing, unlesse we were her Vota­ries. The King loved hunting exceedingly, and if ever he had follow­ed it, it was now since the Princes departure, to passe away melan­cholly; loving him most tenderly, more then he had before that time shewen by any externall effects (if so be that the naturall love of children, doth not suffer the same difference between private men and Princes, as there are different qualities between them) employ­ing himself in this exercise so often; that he would many times loose himself in it: happening into Cottages and such poor places, either by occasion of long courses, or of some other disturbances. His most delightsome chases were beyond the River Durio, about the pleasant City of Baccara, not above twelve miles distant from our Lordships and Lands, where he presently went: whither it were for the Chaces sake onely, or intending to lay a snare for my brothers, as some be­leeved, though I can not justly affirm it to be true. They hearing of his comming, sent suddainly a well qualified gentleman, to beseech him to admit them to kisse his hand: He who already purposed to vi­sit their houses as he was hunting: Far from imagining consanguini­ty could be capable of any such mortall hatred; answered they should be welcome: He intending to passe away that season between the Du­rio and Minto, specially in the pleasant Chaces of their Forests. They presently came to him, having left order for their businesse at home, and were received by the King, with great affability, seeming to for­get all former distastes of their rebellions, and they all precedent injuries, together with the present disgust of mine imprisonment: Within three daies being invited to some of their houses, he left the greatest part of his train behind him, either because he would not o­verpresse them with superfluous expence, as he made shew. Or be­cause having observed distracted thoughts in them, he imagined they mistrusted him. Alcerio leaving Colimbrio and a page of his own who carried his sword, did with great delight run along the pleasant bankes of that River. Neither would he have been so soon weary of [Page 42]it, if Colimbrio measuring the time of the Courtiers comming, had not brought him to the Castle a nearer way, whilest the others who fol­lowed him, being gone about a further way, gave time for the effecting of their designs. They found the place without any people in it, except some few servants who were come with Alcerio to meet him at the Gate. Being alighted from their Horses, the King with his Faulcon on his fist, followed Colimbrio up a private pair of staires, Alcerio staying behind to shut the doors which they went thorow, exclu­ding the rest That solitude seemed very strange to the King at first; and more, when being come into the last Chamber, he found him­self lockt in between two doors, and espied a man comming out from behind the hangings, of a swarthy pale countenance, with a naked dagger in his hand, at whose appearing, Colimbrio laying aside all manner of respect, and turning towards him with a pale looke, through the alteration of his spirits, said, Viriato, the hour is now come, for me to call thee no longer Uncle, nor King, having equally made thy self unworthy both of my veneration and affection: Thou art come now to be that Viriato, who must die for having so much of­fended me. Having thus said, he presently went out at the door ex­pecting no further answer, which was the onely cause of his ruine: It is (besides being a feminile thing) a matter of exceeding dam­mage, for a man to feare looking upon that evill, which he feared not to be the beginner and causer of; wherefore I believe that wicked Polititians axiome to be true; that there is not a man to be found, either perfectly good, or perfectly bad: not good, by reason of his na­tural depravation; so all men believe, and not bad (and this is mine opinion) by reason of the repugnancy of Conscience, whose prick­ing and tormenting often hinders the Delinquent from committing some part of the evill he had intended, which being thus left imper­fect, and without any basis, comes falling to catch him under its own burthen. If Colimbrio had had the courage to endure the sight of his own cruelty against his Uncle, and to be a party in the executing of it, that evill had not befallen him which did. The King hearing so bitter a decree, and perceiving in the naked weapon his death be­fore him, his heart failed him not; but encountring the murtherewith a bold and couragious spirit, said to him: And who art thou that da­rest lay hands upon my person? What profit wilt thou reap there­by? Knowest thou not, that I being dead, thou must needs die (it not being expedient for them who set thee a work, to keep thee alive when thou hast done the deed) and if I live, I may raise thee to wealth better then any one else? The Murtherer, who was before re­solved to kill him, being strook into a suddaine fear and amazement, cast himselfe at his feet, craving pardon at his hands. The King ta­king up the Dagger, went to the window, crying out he was betray­ed, and running to the door which he came in at, made it fast with the Bolt, and thinking to doe the like by the other, was not there time enough, finding Colimbrio comming in at it, and the murtherer running out. Viriato suddainly stabbed at him with his Dagger, but finding he [Page 43]was armed, closed with him, giving him no time to wound him. When the King seized on the Dagger, he had set down his Faulcon, and finding him baiting, ready to fly away, loath to lose him, set his foot, for all his danger, upon his jesses so long as he could. The Cour­tiers who followed the King, were already come into the Court, when the King cryed out: but finding the door shut, strove to break it open: when the Page, who had been oftentimes in the Castle, and knew the advenues of it, runne up another paire of staires, on the edge whereof he found the King upon the ground, closed with Colim­brio, both ready to tumble down; whereupon drawing the Kings owne sword, which he had in his hand, he made a thrust at Colimbrio, but finding he was armed, he thrust it up into his groine, not with­out danger of killing the King also; whereupon Colimbrio's strength failing him, he dyed presently. Alcerio, who was at the other door, endeavouring to come in to help his Brother, when he perceived by his words that he was dead, would have fled out of the Castle, but be­ing met by the Kings followers, unwilling to be taken alive, having killed three of them, was at last slain in an instant, being run through in severall places in the Kings presence, who was glad that he dyed not by his hands, to avoid the hatred which he might have incurred by doing it: And having taken a little breath after so great a danger, receiving his friends congratulations, and taking a glass of wine in stead of a Dinner, he took Horse for Leuciana which was my prison, no man knowing to what end: making what hast he could to get thither, before the news of this businesse should arrive, or tydings of his comming. But ill news sometimes exceed the very wind in swift­nesse, and so did these which being of such importancy, were pre­sently blown abroad and arrived to Leuciana, whilest I free from all suspitions, was in the height of happinesse: when loe as it were thun­der-stricken by this news, I fell down dead (or at least was so esteem­ed) with such a grievous fall, that (whether it was the cause of it, or the excesse of my pain) I was presently delivered of a creature which lived but few minutes, and was laid dead by me, (I being al­so thought to be such) that we might be buried together, as after, wards we were. Dorcallo was the onely he who caused all this evill: for having brought me word of this killing news (thinking the King came to put me to death) he used me as if I had been already con­demned, wounding me with such reproachful words, so void of dis­cretion and respect, that they were sufficient to bring me to that passe which you have heard. Almadero at Dorcalloes comming, was retired into a little closet, when hearing the confused rumour of many Wo­men, who were come to me upon this occasion, and Dorillas out-cryes, knew not what to think: For though lovers imaginations, in case of evill, alwaies judge the worst: yet mine being Paramount above any other, could not but be thought lesser then it was. He was newly gone from me full of hopes and contents, to give way to Dorcalloes com­ming in, when he saw, in lesse time then a flash of lightning, my life turned to death; his sweet and momentary pleasures, into bitter­nesses [Page 44]and eternall dolours. Radimiro who in such an expected casu­alty, had not as yet well recollected his dispersed spirits: thinking me (as others also believed) to be dead, remembred Almadero, and re­presenting to himself the imminent hazard he was in by the Kings ap­proach came in where he was, and said: Arm your self my Lord now to the worst newes you can possibly expect. If Fortune had long studied how to harme us, she could not have learn'd how to do us more hurt then now she hath. Your cosens (my Lord) have sought to murder your Father: but they have been killed, and he in safety will be here presently the Infanta my Lady hearing the newes, hath had a mortall fall, and being delivered at that instant, is dead together with her birth. Now becomes it your highnesse to bear a resolution brave against such mortall stroaks as these are, and remove presently from hence, to avoid the dangers which hang over our head, seeing we may mistrust, that enraged Fortune will not be satisfied with the pre­sent evills.

And having thus said, he laid before him his former ragged clothes, and a paper of soot, to smear himself with; But he having a while fixed his eyes upon him, went towards the door where I lay; neither had Radimiro been able to have hindred him if Dorilla had not surve­ned at the same time, who prostrating her self before him, besought him to have compassion on them, for by shewing himselfe he would have manifested what service was done to him, and what disservice to the King, whereby they should have come to that punishment which could not be but expected from a justly incensed King. Upon their words he stopped, retreating back by litte and little towards a little bed, upon which he fell down: Good luck for them, for being fallen into a deep sound he gave them time to change his habit, and besoot his face: and being at last come to himself again, he said, is it possible Radimiro that this is true which you told me? And if it be: how comes it Dorilla that you suffered my Lilla to die, without seeing me? But suppose you could not help it, cannot you now suffer me to see her before I die, to take my leave of those welbeloved beauties: that our bodies may after a short time be united here, while our spirits in despight of Fortune come to be perpetually united in another place? But they, falling again on their knees, and remonstrating to him the inevitable danger of an ignominious death for them, said, Cease friends, I am perswaded, I will condescend to what you will have me do: but I thought that when she died, we must all have died. I will die alone, let it be so. And to pay death use for this little time, I will depart without seeing of her; that the beautifull, though dolefull ob­ject, mitigating my grief, may not make it delightfull to me, whilst reason is, that I should lament her death, without receiving so much as a shaddow of any delight: having said thus, oceans of tears flowed from him, seconded by the other two. But he suddenly stopped his vertue drying up his tears and saying, Friends, if I did think to live (as I be­lieve I shall die) I would with thankfull words, certifie you of my gratefull mind. The obligements whereby I am bound to you are [Page 45]great; and if Fortune continue her hatred to me by forcing me to live, I will whilst I live revenge my self on her by loving you in despight of her. In the mean time let this little Cabinet remain with you as a pledge: There are her jewells in it; let them be yours, and seeing you love each other, enjoy them, being married together (he had left he the key with me, as if he had meant to command me to do, what I do with them) Neither can any body trouble you for them hereaf­ter, for being given her by me, no man knowes she had them. The Heavens grant you more happily to enjoy them then she did. I re­commend unto you the last offices due to this fair body; and seeing I can do you no good by staying, I will be gone, for fear lest my pre­sence might cause you some evill. They having kissed his hand, and shed abundance of tears, and Radimiro having put a — upon my shoulder, brought me through the Kitchen out of the house, and out of the Castle. Going a long with his brother to meet the King, Viriato had heard of my death by the way, wherefore being arrived, he would see me. It being proper to humane affections, not to believe unlook't for, and wished for chances, which suddenly befall to make them happy; he gave orderimmediately to have me buried at night, rejecting all the Physicians reasons, who unanimously affirmed, that women who died in Childbirth, ought to have three daies respit, or at least forty hours intervall, between their death and buriall: the matricall vapours making them to seem dead before they be so; which being comprehended by Radimiro and Dorilla, it seeming notwithstanding impossible to them (believing I had really exhaled my last breath) they would neverthelesse make triall of it, so that having suffered me (according to the Kings order) privately and without any cere­monies to be put into a large sepulcher, to which they descended down a pair of brick stairs, closed up with a heavy stone: it was not difficult for them with the help of a Priest, in the dead of the night to take me out; Just at that instant, when by my hearts panting, and the beating of my pulses, my vitall spirits apppeared to be within me; so that rejoycing at it, they closed up the Sepulcher again with fresh morter; and following Dorilla, who went before them with a lantern, they laid me in the Priests house; where by means of Fomentations and Frications, I began to breath, and open mine eyes: But when I began to grieve and lament (life having brought me with the first discommodity, the remembrance of mine evils) Dorilla putting her finger to her mouth, beckned to me to hold my tongue, and in two words told me what had happened: So that with sorrow I restrained all my grieved affections, suffering them to do with me as they would: Almadero's going away thinking I was dead, was the saddest privati­on of life to me. I prayed Radimiro to go in quest of him, which hee could not do; but the next day very late after the King was gone; and had been very liberall towards Dorilla of my cloths, and some few Talents: Then he went, and having looked all about those places without any fruit, he promised that after he had put me in some place of safety, he would return to seek him all the world over. But there [Page 46]was no need of it, for within a fortnight after he had happily gotten me out of the Castle with Dorilla, and brought me into the Kingdome of Castile, to the place and house where Almadero's esquire had long harboured, we heard he had been there himself, describing him by severall markes: whereunto he added, that there hee had provided himself with a mourning armour, and a shield painted with teares. And that from thence he had dispatched, an expresse messenger with a letter to the King of Lusitania. I being resolved to follow him, took my journey that way: the gift of my Jewells which he had given Do­rilla, doing me very good service: for without them I had not been able to follow my designes; wherefore I made use of them, not to re­possesse my self thereof, but onely to use them, and restore what should be equivalent to them, with large use. We went from place to place, where he had passed through, leaving every where (in any oc­casions as had presented themselves, which were not few) famous report of his valour, being come to Barcello, there we heard he had imbarked himself for Italie. We had stormy weather a while, almost for a whole month together, all which time we durst not put to Sea, and then we heard newes of Viriato's death, and that Almadero was proclaimed King, and the Kingdom during his absence, guided by certain Governours, till his comming home. It was reported he died with grief of a letter his Son writ to him, in which he protested he would never come in his sight again. I was upon this advice once resolved to return: But desire of finding him out my self (it being more tedious to me to stay, then look up and down for him) I conti­nued in my first resolution; I bought this vessell, and providing it with Marriners, I put my self to th' adventures of the Sea. Being arri­ved at Liguria, I heard he had imbarqued himself for Partenope, at Partenope, for Greece. The long voyage no whit displeased me, the tedi­ousnesse thereof being taken away, by hope and desire. But being come into the Egean Sea, I had no news at all of him, till running o­ver from Iland to Iland, almost through all the Ciclades: I met with one that told me that the Knight I sought for, had many months since sojourned in Ericusa: and gave me such makes of him, that I doubted no error nor equivocation in it. But the sweetnesse of his advice, was quickly answered with bitternesse, I being at the same time told that he lay there ensnared with the Princesse of Feacias love: But I (though I believed al therest) would not beleeve that, because I would not do both of them so much wrong, as to make way in my brest for a mortall jealousie: Which being not able to enter into my heart, doth not withstanding assault it with continuall battery to make it yeeld. I know Almadero, and mine own Fortune also: Peradventure that esteeming himself free, and willing to wave the griefs, of my re­membrance, he may by a living subject, seek to exclude the [...] one, for such doth he believe me to be: But on the other side, I cannot imagined it so to be, the year since my pretended death being not yet quite compleated. I will rather believe that fortune having made the the butt at which she shoots all her arrowes, and being loath to trouble [Page 47]any but my self with them, shoots new Darts at me, to wound me with fresh wounds; which if she should, it would be (in despight of her) but for a short time. Ericusa being so neare, the Princesse of Fe­acia married, Almadero loyall, and alive.

Coralbo had been very attentive in hearkening to the Princesses tra­gick History, which being ended, he comforted her with such a stile as they use to comfort unfortunate folkes, namely with arguments of hopes: whereunto those soules willingly fit themselves when they are nearest to despaire, cautelously dallying with their own be­liefe. But such a prevention will hardly take place, where fortune with its violence overcomes all manner of prudence and wisdome. For being in a few days arrived to Ericusa, and meeting with that which neither of them imagined, they presently were cast down both in body and mind. Having cast anchor and come ashore, the first news they heard, was the death of the old Prince of Feacia, and the Marri­age of the widdow Princess of Feacia, with the Knight of the tears, un­der the name of Almadero King of Lusitania; and that the chief of that Kingdom were come no longer then a fornight since with a powerful fleet, to carry him away with his new wife. Liarta at this news, wax­ed cold as a stone; and if she fell not, dyed not, and wept not, it was because all her vital faculties were so stupified with a horrid chilli­ness, that being runne from the first apprehension to the heart imme­diately, it did from thence take possession of all other parts: So that shewing no effects of an ordinary passion, it proved her wretch­ednesse to be surpassing (being extraordinary) any demonstrations of a naturall grief. Dorilla, and the Squire, who was Radimiro, seeing her in that case, were ready at hand, and laying her in bed, endea­voured, I cannot tell whether to take away, or restore her sences: the privation or habit being incertaine in her, and consequently her life also. Coralbo who felt this dolorous accident as if it had been his own, laboured as much as he could to ease her, but finding he spake to a deaf Statue: He thought it would be best for him (she being a Woman) to leave her alone with discreet Dorilla, and go out (though it were drawing towards night) to give her place, and ease his limbs, benummed by a tedious Sea-voyage. He was scarce gone out of th'in­habited place, when at the entrance of a wood, he heard a noise of voices, which began to grow lesse, being drowned by the loud shreeks of a complaning woman: and rushing forward, he espied five theeves, whereof three were leading a man, and the two other a woman towards the Sea, which was there hard by: He had no Armes about him but his sword; nor could he have overtaken them, if the woman had not given him time by lying down upon the ground. He set upon them, and that so suddainly (they being busied in saving their pr [...]y) that according to the custome of theeves, they would have made no resistance, if his being alone had not encouraged them. Coralbo was naturally bold, but when he was to be employed in a cause which was manifestly just, (as this was) he seemed rather desperate [Page 48]then valiant. His being disarmed, and against many made him not to desist: a generous man, not thinking upon dangers of life, when the incompatibility of an unworthy action, inflames him with a ge­nerous rage, to punish them for it, who commit it. He wounded one of the two, which held the woman more sparingly then needed, fear­ing to hurt her: wherefore the blood raising wrath in him who was wounded, quenched the feare, which his base and abject condition, and the unexpected enemies arrivall had put him into: Yet alone he durst not stirre, but leaving the woman with his companion, he called one of the three which were going before with the man: but because Coralbo (hoping for no assistance himselfe, would not give them time, neither to receive any) he redoubled his blow, the vil­laine sought to revenge himself thereof with so much force, that the blow falling to the ground in vaine, the sword was ready to break, had it not been of a most refined temper: the other companion in the meane time, comming in with a thrust, intended to have runne him thorow: but it proved otherwise, for Coralbo having put it by, took hold with the left hand on his Hilt, and ran him thorow with the right, whereby he fell to the ground and dyed presently. The other taking his opportunity, while the Knight was killing his com­panion, wounded him in the reyns of the back, but he was so farre from him, that he could not put his thrust home, which if he had done, it had been his last night. The others seeing one of their fel­lowes wounded, and another killed out-right, forsaking their Priso­ners, fell all upon him, one of them throwing a hatchet at him, which hitting him on the left arme quite deaded it; yet was it a happy blow, for had it lighted but four fingers more towards his body, it would have marred the fashion of it. He seeing four swords about his eares, thought to retire towards a great Tree to secure his back parts; in the meane time the Prisoner that was taking the dead theeves sword, ran to aid the Knight being known by him, and the woman to be Coralbo: for though the night was farre spent, yet was it very luminous and light. This reliefe came to him in good time; for retreating he hit his heel against a root of the Tree, that grew out of the ground, which threw him backward, leaving him at his Ene­mies mercies. The first hurt he received being in his posture was a thrust clean thorough the right knee joynt. The second a cut on the left hand, which he held up to save his head, whilest he strove to raise himself up with the other. The third, a back blow, which carri­ed away a peece of skinne of the breadth of three fingers, haire and all to the ground, which blow was aimed at his neck. The fourth fai­led, the Prisoner staying the blow by taking away his life. Coralbo see­ing himself thus evill intreated, his force enereased with his anger, and in that instant he was wounded in the hand, raising himself from the ground with the other, not feeling when he was hot (as he did af­terwards) the hurt in his knee, full of evill talent, yeelding himself for dead, flew in amongst them, killed one, and whilest he was kil­ling [Page 49]another, he was runne quite thorough the body by the last, who paid for it soundly, being runne thorough the heart by the Prisoner: so that falling, he had not the time, so much as to draw the sword out of Coralbo's body. The woman, who according to the nature and delicacie of her sex, might since the beginning of the skirmish have saved her self, never stirred from the place, aiding her friends with her voice as well as she could, but seeing her enemies dead, and the quarrell ended, and Coralbo run through in that manner, it is not to be expressed what hast she made to draw the sword out of his body. He knew her not in the twilight; but helping as well as he could with his hand (that she might not with drawing it out make the wound bigger) he lay down, being not able to stand any longer. But obser­ving how, she tormented her self, and grieved for his sake, and by her habit judging her to be a Lady of great worth, said, Madam, I give you many thanks, for that forgetting the joy you should expresse for regaining your liberty, you now condole mine evill, which I rejoice at, as an effect of such an employment. If I die, it is no great matter, it will be but the death of a poor Kinght: whereas your life and liber­ty may be of great importancy to the world, by reason of the sublime merits (which others cannot suppose) in so worthy a presence. But seeing her, without answering, increase her laments; fixing his eyes upon her, he thought he saw the Dutchess Chrisanta's face: and though it was night, he found by the Moane she made (well remem­bring her behaviour) that it was she.

So that thinking her (as he did yet) dead, he was astonished and amazed, imagining that her soul having carried the love of him with it, into the other world, was now come thither to meet him, to shew him the way thither. Wherefore if he was afraid of death before, the present sight increased it so, that he dust nor more speak to her, nor look upon her. There were in that place not far from them a compa­ny of shepheards, who having brought their flocks together into the wood, to let them at the break of day enjoy the pastures refreshed with Aurora's dew. These hearing the Ecchoes of the clashes of swords before they heard their voices, ran swiftly that way, being ac­customed many times, by a just force, to represse the insolencie of theeves and Robbers. But being come to the place, seeing the massa­cre, and having heard by the Ladies servant how the case stood, proffered their aid and assistance. The Lady in the mean time having made a pillow of her lap for Coralbo to lie on, while he being between dead and alive, felt nothing, with an unexpressible passion said unto him, Hath fortune then reserved me, from so many anguishes, and from such a cruell and ignominious death to afflict me now with the most cruell of all anguishes, to kill me with the cruellest of all deaths, with your death I mean, my Celio, my Coralbo? Shall I live after you? I who neither breath nor live but in you, and shall you die I remain­ing alive? No, no. Nature can not operate against its own lawes. I who am your body cannot subsist, you being separate from me, who [Page 50]are my soul, Must I kill you to find you out: and be, if not the mur­therer, yet at the least the inexcusable cause of your death? who shall revenge it if I do not, being both Judge and Delinquent; to con­demn my self, and suffer the punishment due to such a crime? In whom were ever seen amidst extream happinesses extreame miseries, or in extream delights extream hearts griefes, as there are now to be seen in me? Could I meet with a more happy or delightfull object then this, and having met with it, reape greater heart-breaking griefs and miseries by it? What have I done to thee Fortune? that having undertaken to torment me, thou art not satisfied with one, but wilt have me die by many deaths, making me to feel them all in my most sensitive sences? and to shew me the manifold Idea of thy de­formities thou tookest away mins honour, and spared'st my life, to the end I might being deprived of Children, and Coralbo, remain a mournfull example to all the unhappy ones of the earth? And having said thus, and shaken off the body (by her already esteemed dead) from that lappe which was become a Lake of blood, shee rose in a rage, and taking up the sword she had drawn out of Coralboes breast, which lay at her feet, and having put the pomell of it to the ground, cast her self upon the point, and had killed her self with it, if her ser­vant and the shepheards had not prevented her, which they could not so soon do, but that she had before they could take hold of her, give her self a small wound in the breast, a benefit which she then esteemed as an inexplicable injurie: and endeavoured with more then womans forces to recover the not deep enough wounding sword, and accusing them of impiety that took it from her. The cha­rity, Piety, pretended forces all in vain to make her quiet; If a small breath and weak sigh, coming out of that beloved body, giving hope of his life, had not kept her from ruining her self: Freed then from the Frensie of killing her self, coming again near unto him, she tore all the linnen she had about her, to bind up his wounds, while the shep­heards (two of them being returned to the guard of their Flockes) having cut some poles, laid him gently upon them, bearing him softly to Chrisanta's lodging, where they were with Royall liberality, rich­ly recompenced. The Chirurgion, who was there entertained by the communality, finding the wound in the brest, not to touch the in­ward parts, gave hope of life, so that the Dutchesse being quieted, they looked to the rest of his wounds; his head being but superficially hurt, his hand without danger, his knee onely in such termes as it was likely to remain lame. Coralbo while they were dressing of him began to come to himself, and the blood being stopped, he fully re­vived and opening his eyes, while Chrisanta with her tears wash­ed his unhurt hand, and kissed it, he was no more in doubt of her be­ing a spirit, being subject (as other bodies are) to the touch. So that being greatly comforted therewith, he said unto her, I know not (Madam) which exceeds in me joy, or wonder, in seing of you alive, having by undoubted relation heard, that you were cruelly murthe­red. [Page 51]If you be alive, as you seem to be, I praise heaven for it: if you be not, I cannot chuse but returne to my former laments: I give you in the meane time thanks, for having againe taken the paines to sup­port and help me in so extream a calamity as this present is to me. He would have said more, but could not, and she vivified by see­ing him in termes somewhat hopefull, answered him, My Caelio (for so I love to call you) I never was dead: and as I li­ved, doe I now live, and hope for the future to live and die wholly yours. That relation was false (as you see) though believed to be true by all the world, as you shall shortly understand. All my losses I now repute to be precious gaines, seeing I have found you. And though it be an evill meeting, I hope it will not prove nothing neare so malignant, as it was prepared for me by mine inexorable destiny. Let us now look to your recovery, and I pray take your rest, and say no more at this time. But Coralbo seeing her wounded, being dismay­ed thereat, said; And how shall I be silent, (Madam) seeing you in such a case? Who was that mercilesse Barbarian, that durst so cru­elly wound that faire and pittifull breast? she being taken on a sud­daine, gave him a confused answer, saying, that it was a small blow which casually lighted upon her, and would be whole within a day or two, the skin onely being superficially razed. So having againe imposed him silence, she caused the Chirurgion to dresse her. Liarta stood in the meame time a little way off, dallying with death, calling upon it, as a hope without fraude, as an Asylum of inviolable security, and as a place of eternall rest.

But of unfortunate folks miseries, I believe the worst to be that, that it is not in their power to free themselves from, by meanes of that last sigh which scorns all manner of adverse fortune, a strange thing, and void of all reason it is: That Nature at one and the same instant, will not have us be able to die, nor able to live. These are her scornes, her dalliances, and if they be insupportable, we may ea­sily free our selves of them. Death hath no meane to fly a resolute and generous hand. But will it be generosity to die through coward­linesse of mind, for want of heart to endure torments? The good Souldier (a pious soule) shall he forsake the place in which his Cap­taine (God) hath set him without his leave and command? But do we believe that Liarta desired to die indeeed, or rather that her griefe made her imagine so? I believe the latter. My reason is, that no body is satisfied with living, unlesse he be first satisfied with all things. She was not satisfied with hers, being not satisfied of Al­madero, of whom to be satisfied, was alwaies impossible to her. But grant she did desire death, and placed it in the highest degree of all benefits; yet not that death, she was author of her selfe, a voluntary death having alwayes been blamed: and though there may be ho­nest Titles for it, yet good, though it may produce accidentall evils, yet it will never bring forth premeditate and fore designed ones. That one opposite should have the other opposite for its object, is impos­sible: If an honourable death be of power to honour him who li­ved [Page 52]ignominously, shall not an ignominious one (particularly this which is contrary to all Laws) make any one infamous, though he have lived never so vertuously and meritoriously? Liarta de­desired death, but would have heaven take her; when (so little certainty doth our judgement afford us, especially in passions which take us suddainly) on a suddaine her will and desire changed. Her good Genius, which prompted her with good thoughts, shewing her that Almaderoes fault was remissible, and the marriage with the o­ther invalid, she being alive. That she was first chosen, first beloved, and his first spouse. Dorilla thus inspired, discoursed unto her upon these points. Radimiro voted himselfe to voluntary damnation, if at her first appearing in Lusitania, Almadero did not forsake all the Princesses as ever the Island of Feacia had, and all the Queenes ever raigned in Asia, or any where else in the world. Whereby comforted, nothing hindred her mirth but jealousie, that venemous Serpent, whose bitings notwithstanding, were continually cured with Almaderoes innocent ignorance. All these infirmities and con­valescencies, all these deaths and revivings, succeeded in lesse then three or foure hours. And she seeing Coralbo did not returne after so long time, imagining he had in respect of her, because he would not disturbe her, gone some where else to lodge▪ she sent Radimiro to seek him, who going out (heard of the Knights unfortu­nate successes) which notwithstanding went himselfe to see him, but hearing he was at rest, would not disturbe him. Being come home, he related to Liarta the disastrous adventure, particularly as it befell: Who forgetting her own indisposition, rose out of her bed to goe vi­site him. Chrisanta taking her to be a Knight, desired her to forbeare seeing of him till the next morning: But Coralbo hearing her voice, sent to intreat her to come in. The disguised Lady could not at first sight chuse, but betray with th'abundance of teares, the condition of her sex. She thought to have desired his company in her voyage to Lusitania; now finding him in this sad condition, the affection she bore him, and the losse of so good a companion in travell, made her doubly to bemoane his evill. But Coralbo glad to see her on foot (ha­ving left her in a dying condition) comforted her, and told her, he made no question, but her businesse would have a happy period; and she (though very desirous to be gone, would not forsake hated Eri­cusa, till such time as she saw him sure to live: then taking leave of him, she loosed her sailes towards the West, leaving him to the pious care of th'enamoured Chrisanta.

CORIANNA was entertained in her sayling to Sar­diana, with such great testimonalls of courtesie and respect, that forgetting her former misfortunes, she thought on nothing but on repairing the dammage, by the free fruition of the favours she continually received from Eromena; whilst Lucano (who by ado­ring her would manifest the joy he received in the possession of her person and love) gave himself to believe he never li­ved till then: being before dead in others opininion, and his own sad­nesse; thankes to the unexpected passions of his own jealous errors. He thought nothing could now afflict him for the future, nor set a firm bound to his misfortunes, except the vain fears of inconstant fortune. More apt in amorous cases then in any other to affright with­out cause, those delicate affections which are subject (as leaves are to the wind) to the irrggular blasts of unthought of misadventures. But considering himself free there-from in that wherein she oftnest useth to display her forces, honours, states, and titles being all forsaken for Corianna alone, his love refined at the touch of miseries and ambi­ons, lives, and deaths, he judged that the happinesse of preserving themselves long alive, and lovers, was the onely aime of their desires. The life depending upon God, and love upon themselves, both ex­empted from the rage of its furies; They arrived in Sardinia just on Lindadori's birth day, a festivall day both in Court and all the King­dom [Page 54]over. The King who had with great anxiety expected them, went out of his own lodgings to meet them, with such joy as a Prince of his age was capable of; and being put on by Eromena to exercise the affections of courtesie towards loving guests, before them of nature towards his domesticks, he failed not in shewing himself rather as a Father to all three, then to Polimero and Lindadori, Father in law and Grandfather onely; extending himself towards him with such plea­sing words and affections, that they were sufficient to raze out all for­mer ingratitudes. The first newes and happiest for Corianna was, that her onely brother being dead, who was Prince of Parthenope, the King her Father had sent every where to enquire for her, promising large rewards to him that should find her; the Kingdome falling to her, be­ing the onely daughter brought up before the Prince was born as pre­sumed heir. He had written to all the Princes of the world concerning her. So that the letter, which was sent to the King of Sardinia, was by his order delivered unto him, and being read, was to this effect.

Corianna was extraordinarily moved with the Fatherly affections which she found expressed and set downe in this Letter: and though the death of her Brother did seem to grieve her, yet gene­rosity with all the other vertues, (which onely brought forth the grief which was due for the losse of a Brother) were something scarce, in respect of the happinesse which did accrew to her thereby. Wherefore, as the complaints and congratulations which she recei­ved from every one, were indistinct and confused: so the affections of grief being turned into a meere distillation of teares, were sup­pressed by the comfort which nature afforded her in the object of charity towards her self, in such a time as her hopes were grown al­together desperate. Aratus would have sent her away presently, without giving her Father any advice at all, with his fleet onely; but that Lucano his interests kept him back from so doing, seeming it too dangerous to adventure them to a possible violence of new com­motions in a mind (for such things which he had never heard) per­adventure not disposed to be pacified. Wherefore though the Court of Bona had more need of rest then new of troubles; yet he thought good to employ him in this businesse, to the great content of those who were interested therein, and his owne too, being borne to live for others more then for himselfe. Wherefore having taken three Gallies, he happily sailed to Parthenope, at such time as the King re­ceived no advice, languished in desires, and was in a manner despe­rate of hearing any more news of his Daughter. Lucano's Mother could alone have eased him of this trouble, if she durst have done it: but fearing the danger of new disgusts, she imagined it was suffici­ent that she had sent to Ericusa, for Corianna to come her selfe to settle her businesse. But the Messenger being come back with news of her retreating to Sardinia, and others diligencies, besides the Kings being judged superfluous. She was gone into Lucania, to avoid those flashes which the first notices of her Sonnes life and marriage might have excited in him: leaving an expresse to advise her of what daily should happen there. The Count was received with much pomp; and though he was thought to be sent to bring some news of the Princess; yet it was thought to be rather news of some hopes of finding her, then news that she was already found. But the King discovering the Let­ter in his hand, and knowing the Character, stretched himselfe forth in act of ravishing, rather then of receiving it; and not giving heed to what the Count said, impatiently opening and reading it, he found therein as followeth.

THe King having read the Letter, stood for a while pensive, which much troubled the Count of Bona, doubting it had brought forth some effect contrary to his expectation: a suspition which lasted not long, for the King turning towards him with a cheer­ful countenance, said, Count Bona, I was alwaies well affected to­wards the Duke of Lucania, and loved him both for his Fathers me­rits, the nobility of his Family, and his own deserts; but as for ma­king him my Son-in-law, I must confesse it never so much as entred into my thoughts.

Things are reduced to such a passe, that if it be in vain to que­stion them, it would be greater vanity and folly to pretend, that should not be which is already done: I will not vex at it, nor second human temerity, in obstinating my self against destiny: a more parti­cular answer I can not now give you. I would desire you to remain by me some few days, to receive it further in deeds then in words: only write this to Corianna, that at your return (which will be very shortly) she should prepare for hers, together with her Husband and my little Grand-child, which I desire to see above all the world. As concerning your King, I say no more for the present, but that both the world and himself shall shortly discover how much I acknow­ledge my self indebted to him for this present favour. The Count thought by these words, that his first audience had bin finished, when the King leaning upon a little Deske, desired him to relate the adven­tures of Lucano, and how being thought dead, he was now alive, and with his Daughter. The Count beginning at Coriannas inclinations, recounted unto him the marriage contracted unknown to the Dut­chess of Magna-Grecia. How it was impossible for her to break off those first affections, though she had long striven so to do. That having discovered she was with child, the Prince of Sicilia upon comming, and she resolved to be gone, concluded not to forsake her. He related her embarquement, the quarell with the Constable, her flight to [Page 60] Ericusa, the Dukes pretended death, the manner how he was deli­vered, and how it was concealed. The advices received from Ericusa; how she went away, how she arived thither with all particulars to make the case more compassionable, and lamentable.

The arrivall thither of the two Princesses Eromena and Lindadori with Polimero, brought thither a purpose by the Gount, to carry her away out of those miseries. The meeting of Lucano: the ambiguities between the Princesse of Feacia and Almadero, things which did all fill the King with commiseration, shewing manifest signes thereof by his tears. And having embraced the Count, thanked him as an in­strument of finding his daughter, commanding all those that belong­ed to him to serve him as himself. Then calling his Councill toge­ther, caused Corianna's letter to be read in it, whereat if the wonder was great, the compassion far surpassed; All saying, Corianna had saved the Kingdom of Parthenope out of cruell bondage by her error, and that being become the wife of a most vertuous and noble Prince, she merited absolute pardon. The King glad of his subjects inclinati­ons, made choice of six of the chief, committing it to their care, that well accompanied, they should bring out of Lucania Lucano's Mother to him, with all honours due to a Queen. Which being done, within few daies she was met by the King and brought to the Palace, where in the presence of all the Barons he espoused her; to the end that she being Queen, none should disdain to accept of Lucano for Heir of the Kingdom. The Count of Bona (after the receipt of many rich pre­sents) having taken his leave returned to Sardinia, accompanied with the Parthenopean Fleet full of Princes, and Knights. The joy which he brought with these good newes, was abated by the suddain de­parture of Corianna. Eromena and her husband would have gone along with her, but being by the King retarded, they were content to take Lindadori along with them, who being arrived with a great train of Knights at Parthenope, resigned the recovered Children to their Pa­rents, received with such affections as Nature and their former mis­haps required. The little Prince (his former name being changed by his Grandfather) was called Fortunio, a change of a happy Omen, having had in all his subsequent course of life, no remarkable misfortune, all terminating with his having been born in a Cave, and esteemed to be a Posthumus. But we will leave these Princes there, enjoying the plea­sures of delightfull Parthenope; whilst we returning to Feredo end the relation of his misadventures.

We left him going out of Feacia to continue his voyage, in which the winds were so prosperous to him, that in few daies having fur­rowed all the Mediterranean, not onely repenting the strange course of life he had undertaken in former times, and of his panick terrors, but also so ashamed, that he was even a scorn to himself, every time he did remember it. Being arrived into the Ocean Sea, the windes which hitherto had been propitious to him, became his enemies; dri­ving his ship with so much violence, that it proving impossible for him to get into the Irish Seas, to go into — he was forced to suffer [Page 61]himself to be transported into the channell between Gaules, and Albion. Neither had it been much losse if he could have set foot on shore: but being forced to go on, he was driven with such violence of whirlwinds, rain and hail, that the steers-man thinking himself lost, suffered himself to be carried away, by the rage of that uncon­stant Element, the fear growing on as the tempest increased for ten daies together, without any hope of safety. The flying ship left in a small time on the left hand the Britains, Picts, Scots, and all the Orca­des, and on the right hand the Gaules, Batavians, Germans, and Cim­brians; and going out from thence, she found the Sea open on the side, running all along the shores of Norway, where she was many times ready to split, running often over those famous whirlepits of those infamous shores, warned of her dangers, by the roarings of sub­terraneall places, which swallowing up the swelling waves, would by intervalls spew up again the foaming Seas. It was never in the steers­mens powers, to sail off from the land, as if they had been condem­ned by the Heavens, to passe through all the mortall places, and con­strained (not dying) to perswade themselves they could not live, in the sight of approaching death. Twice did the turmoiled vessell stop, the first time at the Druides Rock, and the second at the Haven of the Iron rings. The Rock hath a wonderfull virtue of yeelding in all manner of windes, secure harbour for saylors, and is so called, because to those who look upon it, it seems to be cloathed with such a habit as the Druides were. The Haven of the Iron Rings is a place shut up from the winds, where the Rocks perpendicularly hewed out by nature, rise up to such a height as if they purposed to touch the Heavens. They could not reach any bottom there, so that neither with Anchors, nor yet with plummets, though they fastened sounding line to line, they could not reach the sands, which was the cause that the Norway Kings had caused exceeding great iron rings to be chased with led into the Rocks, to the end that the Cables fastned to those rings might work the same effect, which they could not with Anchors attain, in such a deep abysse. Feredo begun to waver in his opinion, and the enraged tempests, served him for arguments to perswade him, that he was again persecuted by his Sisters infernall furies. He would willingly have gone back, if he had known how. Ericusa's pleasant and happy ease was again represented to his eyes, and made the present businesse seem the more unhappy to him. Oh how willingly would he have gone a shore: But which way? with what guides? what pro­visions? who would have drawn him out of the ship upon those Rocks? and if he could have climbed up there, what could he have gained? they being inhabited by nothing but Bears, nor rich in any thing but perpetuall Christalline snows? amidst so many evills one good onely remained to him: and amongst so many causes of despair he had one onely comfort, to have met with a season in which the Sun running through the Northern signes, caused there perpetuall day, otherwise if he had been there when those climates, by reason of the Suns passing through the opposite signes, had been all dark, he had [Page 62]been inevitably lost. Hee had in ten daies onely run out so many de­grees of latitude, that the difference of the daies, would have served him for a demonstration, though he had wanted instruments to doe it, having found when he was in the mouth of the Mediterranean Sea, the day of fourteen hours, and here in the sixty ninth degree, not a jot of night. Good Fortune it was that the Squires by the Mariners perswasions, had in the ports within the streights made new provisi­ons, which had not been done, had they not been of a Princes train. The provisions of Feacia (excepting some few refreshments and wa­ter) being so abundant, that it would have been sufficient till their arrivall to North-Wales. The liberality which was due to the Princes person, assisted them, otherwise that dammage which neither wind nor foul weather could do them, had surely come upon them by want of victualls. So soon as they were come into harbour, the skie seemed to clear up, and the ship being viewed and searched, the leakes and dammages of it were amended, and having so done, they drew out, carefully to consider upon their return. The Northern Ocean is not subject to the violence of Southern winds; Feredoes ship excepted, which was continually subject to its scornes. For having Taper (as it were) in ambush for it, and given it leave to sail so far, as it should not be able to return back, it suddenly shewed it self, con­straining it to lower its sailes, and turn its foredeck another way, yet all without danger, giving way for it to go West-ward, & to bear up in her sailing a little to the South. The Sun had visibly run three diurnal Circles (though without setting) before he discovered any land, when the fourth day came in sight of the utmost Tile, and there he took har­bour without any let. Feredo was so tired with his continuall disasters, that he would willingly have parted with the Kingdom of Northwales for one little secure Cell, it repenting him extreamly that ever he had forsaken Ericusa, and therefore much blaming Cataulo who had chiefly perswaded him thereunto, He went a shore, to recreate himself, in­tending not to trust to the Sea untill the weather were better setled. It seemed impossible to him under the Artick where Northern winds are most frequent, they seemed to be banisht, onely from him; and having oftentimes heard and read, that it was an ordinary thing to buy a wind in that country, he would willingly have met with a Merchant to furnish him, resolved at any rate to purchase one, to free him out of all these troubles. Being come a shore, he was followed by Cataulo, with those few servants remained with him at his come­ing from Ericusa. And being come to the uttermost part of the Ha­ven, he wondred that he could see no body there, when not far from thence he espied a Lady in rich accoustrements, hooded with black, which beckoned him to follow her, going forward and looking back as if she intended to stay for him. Cataulo stayed a little behind with the rest, not daring to approach too near the incensed and pensive Prince, who not knowing what to think of the person, and her invita­tion, could not imagine her to be any one he knew, but rather some unfortunate creature by tempest as well as himself cast upon that Island. He went on, to be resolved, and hearing a great [Page 63]deal of whispering behind him, he turned about, and saw his follow­ers courteously entertained by others, who seemed to him to be peo­ple of that Country, come thither a purpose upon termes of hospi­tality or the like: Whereunto his former curiosity not permitting him to give heed, he followed the Lady, which having pulled off her hood, to see whether he came after her or no, still pursuing her way. Feredo who at first sight thought her to be Gelinda, stood still, feare having caused his haire to stand an end; which she perceiving, with a hoarse and terrible voice, said unto him: Follow me Feredo, I yet remember thee, and moreover that I was thy Sister. These last words (though terrible) emboldened the Knight, who ashamed of himself, drew nigh to her, she taking him by the hand, and with a disdainful smile, replying unto him, that he should not feare, led him out of the way, to the foot of a Mountaine, encompassed with roar­ing flames; and being arrived into a sulphurous field, all covered over with ashes, they found a King lying along (for such he seemed by his aspect, habit, and Crown) who upon their approach stood up, and said unto them: Princesse Gelinda, is this that Feredo, who was once your Brother, whom you spake to me of not long since. It is replyed she: I wil (quoth he) at your request leave him free, conditionally he will espouse that Igene, which was once your Daughter: and I will, said he, free the said Igene upon condition that having refused me, she will be content to take him. And where shall he find her, replyed Gelinda? It is not needfull for him (said the King) to know it. Destiny overtakes him that flyes it, and vanisheth from him that pursues it: Give him but time, and he shall find her without look­ing for her.

Having thus said, he vanished with the last accent, to the great asto­nishment of the Prince, who being left alone with Gelinda, she said unto him; Feredo, I proceed with thee contrary to the laws of the Kingdom wherein now I am, and contrary to the nature of the sex in which I was born, which is implacable, especially when loving, they are answered with cruelty and ingratitude: I am necessitated to take this course, for the torment I put thee to, troubles me more then the revenge I take thereby, can comfort me: believe not mine to be piety, the splendor of vertue hath no place in these tenebrous Kingdoms. Amongst all my punishments, the greatest is, that I love thee; yet if my affection had been laudable, I should love thee no more. The habits which afford any comfort are excluded form us, otherwise the damned were not utterly deprived of some kind of happinesse. I loved thee in such manner as I ought not, so that my punishment would not be conformable to my delict, if I did not love thee still. And because my torments shall be greater now after my death then when I was alive, this love remaines still with me, as well without hope or ends, as without that body in which such affections terminated. If where I am, we took such delight in revenge as they do in the world, I would torment thee as I have done hitherto: but vices in this place, though they abound above all measure, yet are [Page 64]they not accompanied (seeing we have no sences) with the pleasures of sence. Therefore I free thee, to be lesse afflicted my self. Goe espouse Igene, none else if thou lovest thy self: aske me not the rea­son why, for thou canst have none. Providence is one of the chief amongst the secrets of Divinity. Thus thou must do; thus I will have the doe, or live unmarried. Having spoken these words, and shed some few teares, looking upon him despightfully, she vanished. Fe­redo could not open his mouth, nor utter a word all the while he was deluded by these Phantasmes; and finding himself alone, he was for­ced to abandon himself to human tendernesse, and lament his sisters miseries related to him by her Ghost; yet rejoycing that he should for the future be free'd from her persecutions. The injunction to espouse one Igene, whom he did not know, did trouble him, for joy­ning things past with the present, he was perswaded he should be necessitated so to do, or suffer many disasters, according to the tenor of her threats and menaces; but however, he thought his condition much bettered, it being left to his own choice, either to marry her, or live unmarried; and being assured as touching his voyage, it should be without any danger of tempests but only naturall ones, which were not to be feared in that season, the Sun being near the point of the summer solstice. Being therefore upon departure, he heard on the other side of the Mountaine, a great cry of hounds, and advan­cing towards the corner of it, which hindred the sight of them, he espied two young Cavaliers well mounted. The memory of which time having not blotted out of his mind, represented un­to him the two deceased Princes his brothers: if their unlooked for presences were horrible to him, he might well be execused, especial­ly seeing that being come nigh to him, while the first was ready to wound a Stag which was close by him, the other run him through with his sword, and caused him to fall from his Horse, at the same instant as the Stag running at him, without doing him any further harme, threw him above twenty yards from the place of the ground where he stood at first opening and swallowing up the Princes: with their Horses and Dogs, with so much terror to him, that without any longer stay, he returned back, and was met by his followers, not knowing nor understanding any thing which was said to him. Cataulo troubled to find him in such case, conveyed him into the ship, and presently caused the Marriners to hoist their sailes, which were in­stantly filled with the most prosperous gale that had blown all that voyage. Being come to himself again, and examining what was past, he would not believe it though he had seen it, his sence being not able to alledge any thing unto him, which the readinesse of his intel­lect was not capable with sufficient arguments to refell. He desired to know of Cataulo, what had befallen to the rest of the company, who related unto him how they had all been met, some by Kinsmen, and some by friends, who shaking hands with them, and welcoming them to the place: and while they doubted (knowing those to be dead long before) what the meaning of this should be, they all vanished [Page 65]away. That the same thing had befallen the Marriners, the ship being on a suddain filled with some of their old acquaintances, no man knowing how. Wherefore they began to esteem that to be true which before they held to be fabulous, namely, that the Iland was disinhabited on that side, a habitation onely for such as died by the sword, shipwrack, or the like casualties. Feredo having heard what had befallen others, concealed his own adventures: yet he could not for­get the name of Igene, desiring to know together with the person, the truth of what had befallen him. They sailed three daies without discovering any land at all, at the end of which they discovered the Orcades, want of water constrained them to put into the Harbour of Pomona, on that side which is towards the Calidonian Sea. Feredo went a shore, to see the Country, and to recreate himself with walking. There was in that Harbour but one ship, driven in thither by foul weather, and there cast away while it thought for safety, sinking up a­bove half way into the sand. The first thing he espied after he came a shore, was the funerall of a man of an hundred and fifty years of age, who marrying at one hundred, and having gotten a Son, died whilst he was fishing at Sea with him, without any pain or sicknesse, the oil of his vitall lamp being quite spent. Some would have taken that for a bad Omen; but he did not, interpreting it thus: That his evills being come to a period, and destinie tired with molesting him, he should now for ever remain free from all violences of pain and dolour. Hee did with some kind of envy admire, the happinesse of that people in the purity of nature, not covetous, not ambitious, content with little, of a long and healthfull life; thanks to their ignorance of vices and disorders. Whilest hee discoursed thus within himself touching the estate of man, and preferred naturall simplicity to the superfluities of Fortune, there in his sight came an aged Knight, who sad in aspect walked not far from him, and seemed to revolve many things with­in the vast compasse of his thoughts. His quality and habit, but most of all his venerable countenance so attracted the Princes eyes, that he waxed desirous to discourse with him.

Cataulo, who likewise had fixed his eyes upon him, said, look (let me beseech your Highnesse, on yonder antient Knights behaviour, I believe he is of that ship which lies sunk in the Harbour) It would be great cruelty to leave him here, whence peradventure he will not have opportunity to get out of a long time. Feredo inclined to com­passion, and curious to understand who he was, went towards him, while the other lifting up his eyes espied him close to him; and find­ing him such an one as seemed worthy of much respect, made a pro­found obeisance to him. The Prince saluting him, demanded whether he were of that place? I am not, answered the Knight, but a little while since, and that by misfortune, for having undertaken to be a guide to a great Lady for her safeguard, I have in this place lost both her and my self. Tears are not commonly incident to any but women and children; if they happen to flow from a man of a promising as­pect, they must be supposed to proceed from great cause. This [Page 66]Knight abounded in them; so that the Prince comforting him, and making some proffers of of courtesie to him said, If adversities might admit of comparison, or be weighed in a ballance, there would (a­mong so many unhappy ones) be but one unfortunate man in the world. But there is not any one but in this evill doth repute himself far in a worse case then his companion. One sence doth not exclude another. They have all their passions, and though lesse burthensome, yet hath the blind man no lesse reason to complain of his blindnesse, because the deaf man hath more occasion to bemoan his deafnesse. For then one infirmitie would be a medicine to another, which is not so. Nature gave us our being, a thing good in it self: But if she gave us a bad one, we have great reason to cry to Heaven, being deceived, and brought forth to evill under pretence of good. It is true never­thelesse that fellowship in misfortunes, though it doth not altogether free, yet it doth in some part mitigate the grief of the heart. Which be­ing so, it may be some comfort to you, that the world is for the most part ful of such kind of people. Now if shipwrack be the only cause of your moan, because you are thereby disabled to conduct the Lady you speak of, whither you intended: I have here a ship wherewith I am sayling into Albion, it shall be at her service here, and when we come thither she shall have more if she wants them, the Gods having made me such, that I shall be able to serve her in this, or any other thing as shall require mine aid or assistance. The Knight hearing these proffers, would have cast himself at his feet to give him humble thanks, but Feredo courteously taking him up, the Knight went on in this manner; Sir, your courtesies are so transcendent, that if I did not verily believe them to proceed from the generous minde of some great Prince, I should imagine I did but dream. My present estate in this desert Iland remote from the rest of the world, having in my charge the fairest and most excellent Princesse that ever was born in the North, causeth me to accept of your favourable proffers, our necessi­tie being onely to get out from hence, fortune having done us no further harme then breaking of our ship, our other goods being also well preserved, that we shall not need to be burthensome to any for ought else. So that if she receive this favour from you, Albion shall from henceforth be her native Country, especially if she may there live secure under your protection. Feredo no sooner heard that she was born in the North, but remembring his last visions in Tile, he was much moved at it, humbly desiring the old Knight to tell him who she was, and how arrived into that Iland: and he, after he had excused himself, saying, he should be enforced to satisfie him, to fetch his history from far off, began in this wise.

Scandinavia, a vast Country, and through its greatnesse, little lesse then unknown (being separate from other Countries, in the mouth of the Baltick Sea, and its scituation being in the highest part of the Earth, subject to continuall frosts) is divided into several Kingdoms, whereof the third place is worthily attributed to Norway; whose last King was Theodogilus, born to represent unto us two contraries in one, [Page 67]and the selfe same subject; a paradox very false in the common opi­nion of men, but in effect proved most true; either because con­stancy in good actions is incompatible with men, or because they be­ing so imperfect, may learn not to trust to themselves, and fear that they may sometimes deviate from good inclinations, the violence of nature drawing them continually to evill. That Country loves li­berty above all other Nations of the world: their Kings are elective, and they abhor Hereditary successions, unlesse the Kings Children or next Heirs, make themselves recommendable by their own vertues. But there is not any thing so good or so just, but if it decline from the mean to either extream, it becomes unjust and evill: for though ci­vill liberty be amongst the number of good things, yet whilest to establish it self, it pretends to exclude the Tyrant, it happens often­times, that by the excluding of one, they frame an infinite number of them, an evill so much the more abominable in this, that a bad Prince dying, may (by his death) give place to a good one, whereas the people never dying, can not make way to any amendment. I do not propound this unto you, (sir Knight) to dispute it, but to shew you the consequences of it. A principality guarded with good Lawes, as it is the most perfect amongst all Governments; so a popular liber­ty, which hath no other end but that liberty which stinks of Demo­cracy, can not chuse but be hurtful to the Common-wealth, for the absolute authority of punishing offences, being taken away from the supreme Magistrate, (which is his most necessary part) produces no­thing but power of the wicked: so that in stead of a Prince acciden­tally bad, there ariseth a people substantially excelling in wickedness. Norway hath its simply naturall vices and vertues (I speak of the ge­nerality) good and bad inclinations, which make good and evil men. For as for those vertues, whose onely end and aime is heavenly, they have there but evill entertainment, being esteemed pusillanimities, and effects of a base mind. Therefore precepts leading to the su­preme good, are as scarce, as the examples to evill abounding, where­fore he who there proves but meanly good, is among them as he is amongst other Nations, who deserves to be set down in letters of Gold in the Catalogue of the best, the chief vertue amongst them is valour, I will not say temerity, for fear I should incur hatred for speaking of this truth. And young men which will not run into dangers that are more then ordinary, are in no esteem. Neither must you imagine dan­gers to be there waning, seeing that in offending of others, is their budding, and in offences consists the prize of desired honour: so that hee who makes least use of reason, is by vertue of that abuse more esteemed then others: and he that can afterward conquer those who have by him been abused, ascends to the height of glory, no otherwise then if he had killed Hydraes, Pithons, or the like Monsters: for those indeed ought to be esteemed Monsters, who purchase pow­er and wealth by the harm of peaceable and innocent men. Theodogi­lus was of this last number, before he gained the Crown, having by such means made himself worthy of it: those of the Royal blood, [Page 68](as being descended from Scodoveus their ancient King) being held in no esteem.

There raigned at that time in Norway Rollo, a Prince no lesse good then valiant, Father of one only Daughter, fair Tamaris, whose fame had infected with love, most hearts in Scandinavia: He being grown old, had no pleasure left, but onely his fatherly affection, so much more worthy of praise, as it was most worthily bestowed upon so worthy a Daughter. He would have married her to his successor, but the Lawes, if they did not forbid it, did notwithstanding make it very difficult to him, resignations of the Crown being not permitted, nor new elections suffered till the death of Kings. She was desired by great Princes, especially him of Dacia, and the great King of Swedes and Gothes (he who this day usurpes the titles of King of Scandinavia) but the statutes of the Kingdom opposed it, marriages (especially of Kings Daughters) being forbidden out of the state, and he resolved not to marry her to any private person; which though it was much to the maidens dammage, yet she did not respect it for the reason which I shall tell you.

Amongst the many abuses of that Kingdom, caused through the aforesaid popular liberty, there is an ancient and insufferable one, namely, that a man may aspire to the marriage of any woman; though she be never so much above him in fortunes and blood, so the preten­der have but strength and courage enough to defend her against any rivall whatsoever, for a whole yeares space, it being supposed, that valour is equivalent to nobility, from whence derives the merit of possessing a perfect beauty, and all those treasures and wealth she is endowed with. There lived amidst the highest hills of Norway in those dayes, an exceeding fierce man, little lesse then of a Giant-like stature, who having with his Robberies molested all the high-wayes there-abouts, being touched with remorse, betook himself to freeing them from all such who after him used that trade; his name was Brancicone: He abhorred all manner of company, only a Dog he had, which like himself was cruel and fierce: He durst have encountred and set upon whole squadrons of armed men, seconded by this Mastiffe. Now after infinite Robberies, Thefts, and Murthers com­mitted, being converted (as I said) to wel-doing, he grew into such good repute, that by some foolish fellowes he was esteemed worthy to succeed Rollo: and to speak the truth, he did such things for the good of Travailers, as he might have deserved it, if the parts of his mind had had any Analogy with the vigour of his body; or his beastly strength, any correspondency with humanity and reason. But he had nothing of man in him, but one (and that ill regulated) namely de­sire of glory: which having caused him to abandon his former course of life, had whetted him to a desire of performing great and glorious actions, wherewith being grown proud, he afterwads aspired (be­ing reduced to a more cultivated, or at least, a lesse uncivil manner of life) to the marriage of Tamaris. I know not whether love incited him to it, or rather his new-grown ambition, for having never seen [Page 69]her, the meer report of her beauty could hardly have inflamed such a brutish heart as his: I rather believe, that having made himself formidable amidst the Woods, he desired also to become famous in Court, not content that the fame of his actions only should reach thi­ther, unlesse their eyes also were witnesses of them; imagining that though Tamaris beauty and desert had not been so excellent as it was, yet he should not be suffered to have her without opposition; his de­scent being well known, and his merit to be none other but onely the desire he had to purchase it, by means of his savage strength. His comming to Court was much admired, being known there only by name, and his request much more wondered at. For finding the King amidst his Councel, he asked him, with rustick and irreverenr termes, for his daughter to wife; offering according to the Law, to ap­prove himself worthy of her, against whosoever should oppose him. Rollo gnashed his teeth for anger, and though old, could have wish­ed he might have been admitted to the battel to punish his arrogancy, but it not being permitted him (none being to enter the list but Ri­vals) he was forced to yeeld to the tyranny of custome, and having deputed to him the field and year, assigned him the reward, in case he should remaine Conqueror. Many had formerly intention to have su­ed for her, but knowing the enterprize to be difficult, (extraordinary and noble beauties being not to be obtained, but with extraordina­ry danger) they had forborn. Disdain, and the persons unworthi­nesse, had caused many to resolve upon that which bare affection could not move them to tell then: so that the deputed month being past from the publication of the field, the City was in a manner fuller of Combatants then of beholders. The maintainer was obliged but to one Combat in a day; but if he had any wounds given him, his dayes of cure were accompted to him, and contrary-wise those made good to him, in which he being ready to fight no adventurers should appear: and if a battaile were not ended in one or more dayes, these did also runne on for his advantage Yet he never desired to enjoy the advantage of one only battel a day, killing or overcoming many times five or six Knights in that time: for seeing the multitude of Rivals who strove to notifie themselves (being not admitted to fight, but according to the order of the Register) he thought it would be a disparagement to him, if he did not overcome them all, neither could he have so done, if he had not deprived himselfe (as he did) of the advantage which the Law gave him. These lists did not begin but a month after the vernall equinoctial, and if they had not lasted a whole year (which never happened) the ancient Kings (Trondona the Royal Sea, being in sixty five degrees, so that the day in the brumal solstice, was not above two or thee hours long, and the Earth covered with frosts and snow) had to this end built in the Court for this pur­pose, a covered Tilt-yard, where in despight of the aire and wea­ther, Knights might fight without any discommodity, looked upon from Balconies and Galleries placed on three sides of it, the fourth being left open to the Southward, towards the oblique beames of the [Page 70]low Sun in that elevated Clime, and if the battell had not been en­ded before night (as it often chanced) then upon request of the two Champions lights were granted them; but there was no need thereof at this time, the contention being ended before the long nights came in, as I shal declare unto you. Theodogilus was then two & twenty years of age, and as he was best proportioned for bodily beauty of all the young men of his age; so was he the most noble of blood, amongst the antient Families of the Kingdom; deriving his pedegree from the antientest and most renounced Kings of Norway. He had famed him­self in severall actions though he was but young, with particular proofs of inestimable valour. He loved Tamaris secretly, and she him: He had oftentimes desired her to give him leave to demand her in marriage of her Father, but she would not consent, overcome with fears of imaginary oppositions, love (especially where there are difficulties and dangers) being almost as well enjoyed in hopes, as in fruition. And though Theodogilus did many times remonstrate unto her, that it must needs one day come to that passe; yet knew she not, either how to deny or consent unto him: having resolv'd within her self to de­fer her wedding til after her fathers decease, when being free she might dispose of her self as she pleased. Brancicone had scarce made his odious proposition, but Theodogilus presently intending to register himself, it was absolutely forbidden him by Tamaris, without giving him any reason for it: excusing her self upon a curiosity she had to see first how others fared, saying, that within some few daies she would give him leave. But many daies and months being past, and Brancicone having already kiled or overcome above two hundred Knights, Theodogilus re­solved to disobey her. She could now no longer keep him out of dan­ger, by her first plot of staying till her Fathers decease; necessitated to fall into the hands of him that gained her. But she imagined his dan­ger might prove lesse, if she could procure him to be the last comba­tant. For if Brancicone proved conqueror, there remained no more ri­valls, all the danger ending with him; and if he fell, the danger would likewise be the lesse, the greatest number of the competitors being already overcome, and the adversarie (though victorious) of more equall forces, then Brancicone. Theodogilus on the other side, had also his inward discourses of mind. And though heretofore he had ne­ver represented to himself, Tamaris her love to be great towards him, (lovers never content with any demonstration of love though never so ardent) yet hee now complained of an excesse. Ex­cesse which never lover knew, though he were never so wel beloved. Neither had he known it, without the Mathemati­call perspective of honour. He considered that he was in Court, in sight of all. And which was more, judged most worthy and equall for this match. So that though he had not loved her, honour forced him to demand her, which if he did not do, who could have judged it to proceed from any thing but want of magnanimity and courage to render him (and that with very good cause) for the future abject and despicable in the worlds fight? having therefore assembled toge­ther [Page 71]in the Councel chamber of his thoughts those three unappealable Judges, Love, Honour, and Reason. He received by two votes, a de­cree published with applause of all sound judgements. Namely, that women were to be respected, Idolized, beloved, but not obeyed (love protesting against the word — obey) which decree he now made use of. Amongst all the adventurers who had entred themselves for this battail, there were some who were moved more by compassion then love, the conditions of Brancicone seeming to them so unequall to those of Tamaris, that they were ashamed thereof. Aderedo was repu­ted to be of this number, though he were not, being long before en­flamed by the Princesses merits. But he had concealed his affection, not because he thought himself unworthy of her, but because he esteemed her worthy of richer fortunes. He was of a very noble birth, a friend to Theodogilus, and beholding to him in many occasions, void of all blemish, or spot, but onely that of poverty, to wash him of which, Teodogilus had not only furnished him with horses and armour, but by an unheard of example, had endowed him with al his goods. They had not communicated their loves to each other (the only portent to be admired at, in all their friendship) for Aderedo never imagined occa­sion should be presented to him to have her: and would never have requested her (as Brancicone did) in so disequall an estate: such terms being unusuall amongst civill and courteous persons. And The­odogilus because he would shew two things; A superstitious religion in love, and a secrecie, so much the more commendable, as it was diffi­cult to be imitated by such a young man as he was. There remained now but three Knights registred for the battel before Aderedo, which were by him reputed unable to overcome Brancicone, though they had all three been joyned together like another Gerion. He diffided not in himself, neither had the adversaries fiercenesse, manifested in the death of so many whom he had slain, any whit dismayed his cou­rage; so that he did not onely hope for the victory, but held himself as it were assured thereof. Whether it were that his heart presaging he should not fight, had no apprehension of fear. Or because a gene­rous mind, dareth most, where the way to honour and fame lieth o­pen to him with most danger. He never pretended to have Tamaris to wife (as I said before) thinking the merits of so high a Princesse did evill agree with his poverty. But afterwards judging any husband would prove fitter for her, then such a poor, base, and bestiall rustick, he resolved to that for charity and honesty, whereunto a discreet love had not had power to perswade him. And though it with much danger (Brancicones valour grown terrible by so many daily examples) yet honour, charity, and affection extinguished in him all manner of cōsideration of danger. Teodogilus, ignorant of the true cause which had moved his friend to list himself amongst the number of competitors, concurred in common opinion with those, that thought meer gentle­nesse had spurr'd him on to it. And with this thought going to him, said to him in this manner; Aderedo, If I did think thee to be as much enamoured, as I know thee to be noble and vertuous, I would not [Page 72]adventure to come and impart unto thee the greatest secret that is in­closed within my breast, and desire that favour at thy hands, which I intend to request. Aderedo was startled at this exordium, imagining the truth of its meaning, there being nought else that could make his friend so much as question his authority over him: so that being half amazed, he answered him: I can not chuse Theodogilus but com­plain extreamly of thee, that thou shouldest imagine thy self to have so little power over me, or reputest my gratitude so scarce towards thee, that any reserves can hinder me from serving thee. I would I were in love indeed, that I might make thee know that friendship in me is a solid substance, an eternall Elixir, in respect of love, which is but a flying accident, a wandring hunger, the appetite being once saciated. Thou dealest with me, with respects in thy businesses, & dost me wrong. I will shew thee the way, I am not in love: but if I were, should my being such, take away from me the desire of serving thee? Theodogilus blushed at Aderedo's friendly reproofs, and having alledg­ed many long excuses, he related unto him his love to Tamaris, how she had forbidden him to register himself, and how he was now re­solved to disobey her.

That which I would desire of thee, said he, is, that thou woul­dest yeeld me thy battel, for the not having Registred my self, and my staying to be last to do it, are things too prejudiciall to mine ho­nour: Aderedo was much grieved at this demand, it seeming to be more shame for him to resigne the place, after the adversaries so ma­ny victories, then to the other that he had not at all registred him self, or to have done it late; yet he answered him: Theodogilus, thy request is great, not that I pretend to deny it thee (thou shalt have what thou desirest) but I beseech thee have a respect to mine honour, and if thou canst, oblige me so far as to let me runne my hazard; for if I resigne the battel to thee, what will be said of me? If thou leavest it to me, I will resigne thy Tamaris to thee if I win her: and if I lose her, judge thou, whether it will not be better for me to dye, then live with infamy. Theodogilus, who before he had made his request, had anticipatedly fore-seen all the reasons his friend could alledge for himselfe, thus answered him. I know (Alderedo) my demand is un­just: But such injustices, and upon occasion of love, use not to be imputed to one another, by friends of such a kind as we are. Thine honour indeed might runne a hazard therein, if our friendship were not a thing so notorious to the world; or if the lustre and resplen­dency of thy known valour were not sufficient to disperse the clouds of any sinister opinions. And if it were not so, wouldst thou suffer me after being fallen into so great an over-sight, through an amorous obedience, to remain immerged therein with so much infamy? Let us compare your shame with mine if you please, and having exami­ned them both, let the greatest prevaile: if thine honour runnes more danger then mine, I will revoke my request. Thou wilt say, I speak too confidently; and that in matters of honour, Children have not yeelded to Parents, much lesse therefore should one friend yeeld to [Page 37]another. This is a Proposition which admits no answer; and if it did, it is not a thing by me to be disputed, and such a doubt as is onely by thee to be resolved. Thou wilt not peradventure, through thy gentlenesse, make rigorous use of it, especially where love and friend­ship are the Disputants. Thou offerest me Tamaris, gained by thy force, I will receive her willingly; receiving alwayes thy favours with the same mind as I desire to serve thee. I will not envy thy magnanimity; I will love my self so much the more, being made the object of thy vertues, thine honours: I know a friend ought to make no difference between conferring and receiving of benefits, unlesse she more esteem the fame of his own liberality, then that of his friends inclination. Well, grant I be condemned to accept indifferently of all thy favours, and that I be content therewith: will this serve our turns? Will not others say, that I pretending to have Tamaris, have obtained her with the price of thy blood, and thy life? And if no man should esteem me a coward (which is impossible) there would not howsoever want some to say, that I had with too discourteous termes, accepted of thy courtesies: add to this, that if I did ever chance to do thee any small courtesie, the merit of it would be cor­rupted, if I should pretend to take for it such illegal use, as the precious use of thy self. This and no other, will be the opinion of the Court.

As for the people, thou knowest, it being ignorant, does not judge by what seems to be, but by what it sees, or rather by that little which it mistakes. But in my case, it will free from all manner of ig­norance and deceipt, see the just causes of my blame. As for the King, what will he judge of my action? That having pretended to his Daughter, I have withdrawn my self from danger by thy means: He will peradventure by very good reason, give her to thee, and not me; and if no other harm should ensue thereon, I should not judge it worthy the reflecting upon. Though it could not happen worse, she being not beloved by thee, as she is by me: and suppose I be deceived in all these things, yet can I not be deceived touching my selfe. I shall feel punctures, by which transfixed, I shall not be able to live after such a chance, and will not first, the first of them be the seeing my self sacrificed to thee? to hear the praises which will be deserved­ly attributed to thy perfect amity, and the blames wherewith my im­perfect friendship will be reproached? Wilt thou then purchase fame with cost of mine infamy: and if thou shouldest chance to be killed (as it hath miserably befallen many gallant Knights) shall I live without thee, without honour, both being extinguished upon mine occasion, and through my shallownesse? Thou must not will this Aderedo, unlesse thou wilt have it said, that thy punctuality in thine own reputation, hath made thee blind in judging of mine. If the businesse between us stood upon equal termes, I would yeeld to thee: and do already (so help me heaven) yeeld to thee; if with the battel thou be resolved to take Tamaris. I never did, nor could do a thing more conformable to my mind then this, namely to renounce [Page 74]to so dear a friend, a Princesse so worthy, and bestowing on her whom I so much reverence, the most vertuous Knight on earth. Aderedo attentively gave eare unto his friends speech, and resolved to satisfie him, would (through excesse of vertue) have the service bear a re­semblance of justice, and not of courtesie. Wherefore he said unto him; Theodogilus, thou hast put thy self upon an enquiry with me, wherein (as in every thing else) I have nothing but imparity and disadvantage with thee: thou strivest in vain to make thy self equal to me, whilest thy courtesies and mine obligements, though correla­tives, are (being of a diverse nature) manifestly disequal. There is no parity between you and I, but only in that you are master of my will, as I am of yours; seeing that in other things thou hast been a­ble to make me partaker of thy wealth, being by thee extreamly be­loved; and I (though I could) would by no means make thee par­taker of my poverty, unlesse I did extreamly hate thee. Thou hast not done any action towards me, but hath been crowned with hu­manity, nor I any to thee-wards, but hath been marked with an ob­ligement, so that if my being bound unto thee, did not comfort me, as an effect of thy love, I should die discontent: if mine ambition of equalling my self to thee in reciprocal service, were greater then the inclination I have spontaneously to serve thee: Consider I pray thee, if in displeasing me (as thou imaginest to do at this present) thou hast power to oblige me, how much thou hast in times past ob­liged me by pleasing me. I pretend not to answer thy courteous rea­sons, because if I should go about to conquer thee by them, the un­derstanding and tongue would need to frame new reasons, and new courtesies, thou having rendred thy self proprietary, and absolute commander of the old ones: Wherefore either accept of that which I can give thee, or that which I can not (if thou wilt have it) aske it of thy self: I have nothing in my self that is not thine, and in thy hands. T [...]u requirest the battel against Brancicone, and at the same instant confessest thy request to be unjust. Couldst thou find a more ingenious invention, to illustrate me, and make me the more worthy of thy friendship? Ingenuity Theodogilus, and much lesse my consci­ence will not permit me to take upon me other mens glories, especial­ly thine. Thou canst not desire at my hands, any thing which is not due to thee. I ought to yeeld the battel to thee, not as a thing due by vertue of friendship only: but by justice, and in vertue of an amo­rous affection. Thou art he that lovest Tamaris, thou beloved of Ta­maris, not I: It fits not me for a vain jealousie of honour, to suffer the solid of thy reputation to ruine, and ruined to lie buried in the mire of infamy, seeing the greatest shame between us would be thine. I grant, Children have not yeelded to Parents in this case, when there hath been a question of this abominable Chimera, nor friends to friends, (would there were no examples of the like, it would be the better) but that it is more laudable to be ambitious then just, and that true honour, which is the only object of a gentle spirit, hath been gained thereby, no man can ever shew me. But why may not I, Theo­dogilus, [Page 75]be ambitious, and just both at one time? Who hinders me, if my first instinct proceed from the vanity of honour, but that by yielding to thee (which is an effect of justice) I do not inwardly dis­gest, the applause of the laudable act, as nutriment of the vain food of my ambitions. This Justice (Theodogilus) the center of all vertues hath power at once to give satisfaction both to vertue and vice: and though it doth not deceive, yet it is an innocent instrument, whereby others may be deceived. Take the thing therefore as thou please; I ought and must serve thee. If I do it for justice, I shall pay what is my due, if through vanity I shall satisfie mine ambition, though (to con­fesse the truth to thee) it will be hardly satisfied in an occasion, wherein I resign nothing to thee but danger, blood, and death.

Wherefore neither will there be any thing for thee to be beholding to me for, nor for me to glory in, if my vain glory fall not into an ex­presse madnesse. I answer thee nothing concerning Tamaris. She is thine, pray Heavens thou maist possesse her, with all the happinesse I can wish thee. And if being better inspired, thou wouldst be con­tent to give me back that which I have yeelded to thee, letting me perform the batttell, (being assured thereby to have Tamaris, or to adventure nothing but a poor unusefull friend) I shall take it for a great favour, as the only means to free me from two most grievous fears, of the danger of thy person, and mine honour. If not, let thy will be done; protesting unto thee, that if my yielding to thee, should be the occasion of thy death, I will not survive, resolved to trie whether the soul retain its former habits, and whether with it, they also remain immortall. Theodoligus had yielded to Aderedos affecti­onate instances, but that he thought that adventuring him to such a battell, without the recompence which it brought with it, would have redounded too much to his infamy: wherfore appeasing him with good reason, they went both together to the register, where one being stricken out, the other was inserted in his place, there being no law to the contrary. The rumor thereof being spread abroad [...] Court, e­very one presently penetrated into the true cause of it, to the great commendation of them both, though Aderedo could not be comforted: Brancicones forces making him much to fear his friends life. Tamaris, when she heard of it, was much grieved & troubled at it, & not know­ing how to speak with him, she wrote to him after this manner.

Tamaris amorous arrogancie did not much trouble Theodogilus; being before ac­customed to such fashions; wherefore taking pen in hand he answered her thus.

Brancicone in the mean time overcame all those Knights which ap­peared before Theodogilus: who his appointed day being come, appea­red with Aderedo, who served him for second, and with twelve pages mounted upon Dacian steeds, and six trumpets, and six foot­men all clothed with two colours unusuall to him, skie colour, and violet, to pretend that diffidency which he had not of his Mistresse. Three noble Knights carried his shield, his lance, and his helmet, cho­sen amongst the chief of two hundred other Knights which ac­companied him. Being arrived into the lists, he laid down his hat, adorned with feathers, and inriched with Diamonds: and having caused his Helmet to be laced on, taking his lance and shield he en­tred in, and having saluted the King and Princesse who stood upon the Balcones, he stood still at his own end, having first paced over the whole field, all other (save onely the seconds) quitting the ground. Brancicone came out of his Tent, mounted upon a great Freezland horse. Having in the precedent daies worn in his shield for impresa a Palm-tree and a Bear climbing it with this motto. From [Page 78]the Palm to the fruit. By the Bear meaning himself, who climbing the tree, which were his victories, hee aspired to the gathering of the fruit, which was Tamaris. But in these latter daies, his shield being broken by severall long battells, he took occasion to make him a new one, with the same picture, altering it onely in the Bear, making it in stead of climbing, arrived up to the top of the tree, taking hold with its paw of the upper branch thereof, which had given Theodogilus cause to have the same impresa, painted in his shield, adding hereunto an arm comming out of a cloud, and cutting the branch off from the tree with an axe, sending both to the ground with this Motto, Not for thee, thou sillie Beast. Brancicone, who stood in the entrance of his Tent, looking upon his Enemy. Knew by his own impresa, (though he was rustick and illiterate) the signification of the other, threatned to punish him for it, with most terrible words, which those that stood furthest off might easily hear, and Theodogilus himself. He would have said more, if not knowing how to read, he could but have made shift to spell the injurious words of the Motto; But he had never a friend that would tell him, which was a great abatement of his wrath. Theodogilus, who on the other side observed all his gestures, took great pastime at it, thinking this new surviving passion, would prove for his advantage, neither was he peradventure deceived therin. He had under him an Ermine horse all spotted over with black spots, just as if a sprunge dipped in inke would have spotted him, if it had been thrown against him: his mane reaching to the ground gathered up together in two golden rings, which dividing them into two locks, they joined together again on the horses head. The brestplate gar­nished with bells, yielding such a sound, that if one had but ears, hee might thereby have judged of the variety of the beasts motions. He himself besides a rich Coat embroidered with curious choice work wore in his crest a Dove couching in a tuft of nettles, alluding by the Dove the good augury of the enterprise, the hope of enjoyments, and the purity of his love. By the nettle his affections, hot and stinging as a Nettle. The Trumpets having sounded, they came to meet: Branci­cone ridde in a foolish extravagant manner, and without knowledge of any advantage, so that if in the precedent battells he had perfor­med any one, on horseback, he would have had but a bad issue of it. Besides, he handled his arms so untowardly, making use onely of his strength, in which he so mightily excelled, that Knights being once put beside their defence, and shaken by the violence of the blowes, remained either killed or yeelded. Theodogilus had observed all this, and was certain of the victory, if he could but secure himself from the enemies first fury. But Fortune in this, as in other occasions also, would have prudencie give place to it, for meeting with their lances, Theo­dogilus received the encounter in the Center of his shield, whereby he would have been forced to have quitted the saddle, if the strong lance bruised (I believe) by some former encounter, had not flowen in peeces. Whereas he contrariwise, aiming his encounter between the shield and the saddle bow, happened to enter between the one and [Page 79]the other, and finding the Brigandine impenetrable, it glided along the flank where it stayed, stopped by the hinder part of the Armour, which in stead of joyning close with the Corslet, lay over it in such manner, that the point finding where to rest, the well tempered ar­mour was not able to resist the force of the steed and arme, so that the Lance entred so farre, as the place where it broke. Bran­cicone like a Rock in the middest of the Sea, kept the sad­dle unmoved at this first encounter, not without amazement of the spectators, for being run quite thorow, he gave no signe at all of any feeling: Theodogilus throwing away the peece of Lance which remain­ed in his hand, and nimbly wheeling his Horse about, espied his ene­mie carred away to hit against the furthermost bars of the Tilt-yard, whether the defect was in the bit, or because the encounter had ta­ken away his sence, the Horse hitting against the opposite barres, was beaten back upon his Crupper, falling with the Rider under him upon his wounded side; the wound was not very deep, but it hit his Middriffe, and with the fall, the peece of the Launce breaking in his body, went to his heart and killed him. Theodogilus stood over him, observing whether he would rise or not, but finding he did not move, he alighted, and lifting up his Vizor, and finding him dead, he advised the judges of it: who pronouncing him conqueror, intimated to him, that he was bound to maintain the field against others for one whole year together. Theodogilus knowing it very well, causing dead Brancicone to be taken way with his pavilion, caused his to be set up in the place of it. But there was none came afterwards to demand battaile of him, though there were above one hundred already regi­stred. The King much joyed to see himself free'd of Brancicone, and sent two Knights to Theodogilus to thank him for it, who had gone to kisse his hands therefore, had he not been obliged to remaine in the field for a whole yeare. It were superfluous to speak of Tamaris joy, who now was never from her window, where she was never seen be­fore, while Brancicon's Tent stood there. The Knights to whom be­longed the next battels after Theodogilus, and now according to the order of the Law, were to fight with him, generously yeelded and laid down their pretences, unanimously confessing, Tamaris could not have a more worthy Husband then him: so that they all came to put themselves out of the Register, neither did any one come in anew, to demand battel of him: Whether it were joy, age, or the fatall hour that was come, no sooner were the Spouses come together, but Rollo dyed, having recommeded his Son-in-law to the States favour, who both as Husband to Tamaris, and of himself worthy the place, was by the general applause elected King of Norway. There was never King of that Country, more happy while he had a wife and friend, but happening to lose them so unfortunately, as you shall hear, none exceeded him in misery. Aderedo having the whole burthen of Go­vernment lying upon him, with his honour, altered his customes; not as other Favourites do: for he altered only those which were ei­ther dishonourable or hurtful to him, that native liberality, which [Page 80]had before been by him employed in gamesomenesse and love. He abandoned all, forgat all: Wise not so much in knowing that with wealth vices are increased, as that it is unseemly for a Knight to glut himself therewith, especially at a friends charges. He seemed no more to be the same Aderedo he was: yet was he the same, and more ex­celling in all manner of gentlenesse. There is no vice that hath a more open gap set before it then prodigality: It hath no walls nor bounds, and if any, they are enchanted. It breaks Doors, Bars, and Rails: yet this sublime and lofty spirit, being by love to his friend become a good Husband, forceth his natural inclination, and without offering any violence to himselfe, sweetly settles in the Center, between those two so far distant extreams, sordidnesse and profusenesse. Nature seemed to have produced these two symbolizing spirits, because they should contend reciprocally in benefits and love. The King enjoyed nor took delight in nothing, unlesse it were participable to Aderedo; he devested himself of his own authority, to invest him with it: He had nothing peculiar to himself but Tamaris only: He relished not the Dominion of the Kingdom, unlesse the other commanded it. He would have made him participant of the Crown, if it had been ca­pable of two heads, and was grieved because it was not. Aderedo's will was what Theodogilus would, and what was convenient for Theodogi­lus, Aderedo would questionlesse put in execution. The one happy that being born to decayed fortunes, he was made participant of his friends favour and fortunes: the other most happy in that fortune had granted him a second self, who easing him of care, served him for a friend, a Treasurer, a Father. In this wise transcendently for­tunate, there never having been known a more perfect woman. Beautiful without vanity, honest without haughtinesse, good with­out-folly, a speaker void of petulancy, and humble without base­nesse: so that the presence and frequentation of that pleasant and comfortable behaviour, was more comfortable then lying amidst Roses, being nourished with Nectar and Ambrosia, ravished with an extasis, caused by the melody of the celestial Sphears. A woman in ex­ternal proportion so beautiful, that to her heaven had in a manner given the priviledge of mitigating manly severities, so that she was no longer a delight only, but an earthly paradice, where the internal beauty which so much pleaseth the understanding, over tops and ex­cells the external which so much pleases the senses. Wherefore Ta­maris was a Paradice to Theodogilus, and the harmony of his vertues was the reall, not allegorical harmony of the above illuminating Sphears. Happy he, if after the tasting of so much happinesse, had closed his eyes in perpetuall sleep, before he had been plunged into the unhappinesse which he afterwards fell into. Of three Children which she bore him, there survived none but one only Daughter, in beauty, nature, and customes so like her, that there was wrong done to her, in not calling her by the same name: that of Igene making her through its variety, an individuum, a part, which it should not have done: For Igene and Tamaris, Tamaris and Igene, had neither in bo­die [Page 81]or mind any thing different, but onely the difference of name and time; which Igene being grown up, could hardly be perceived, there being onely eighteen years difference between the mother and the daughters age. Feredo was startled at the name of Igene, in such manner, as the Kinght perceiving it, thought he had been surprised with some suddain evill, so that he stayed his discourse ready to assist him in any such accident, and the like did Cataulo. But Feredo perceiving it, desired him to proceed in his curious History. The Knight; therefore continuing his discourse, said. The first adverse for­tune Theodogilus had after all his prosperity, was the losse of Aderedo. The Northern passage into the Eastern Seas had been attempted many years before by the same Aderedo, who besides other studies, delighted much in that of Geography. He believed the Hyperboreans and Scythians which lay by the Sea side (according as they are set down in the map) not to be contiguous to the Pole, besides the an­tient tradition of an Eastern ship driven by tempest into those coasts. And though the frosts there were extream, yet he believed that meet­ing with a milder season he might easily have passed through, com­paring the advantages of his vicinity, with the disadvantages of the Southern passages which were far remoter. This enterprise had been often undertaken, yet never performed. But he whose intention was nothing more then to make Theodogilus the most famous King in the world, and that he should attain to this glory by his means, dis­posed himself to attempt this in person, contrary to the Kings, Queens, and the whole Kingdoms will. He furnished six vessells with victualls and armes, not for months, but years, providing them with timber and all other necessary provision, to the end, that if the wea­ther and season of the year did oppose him, he might furnish himself with lodgings on land, to continue his journey afterwards at the Suns return. He forgot not any thing, onely the good counsell to stay be­hind himself, who was the best and most valuable provision. With­in two months after his departure he sent back a small vessell from the seventeenth degree, with advice that he had sailed to the eighty third, hoping to passe forward, but that being hindred by impene­trable frosts he was returned: having certain relation that he might passe within five or six daies at a certain determinate time with the people of that Country, by a Mediterranean Sean not known by the Mariners, called Morimusa, that is to say, a dead Sea. And that he was then at the mouth of that Sea, resolved not ro return till either he had atchieved his enterprise, or found an impossibility in it, that he might not think any more on it. These were the last newes came from him. So that four years being past, and he not returning, he was certainly accounted to be dead. I intend not now to describe the la­mentations which were made for him. Yet was not this the period of adverse Fortune: the Queen with child at this time, died six months after in childbed. Whether this touched Theodogilus to the quick, no tongue can expresse. She was enbalmed, he kept her severall daies in his Chamber, and would not suffer her to be buried, unless he [Page 80]might himself be buried with her. He was at last perswaded by the importunity of those who remonstrated unto him, that such fits of grief were unworthy of Kings, who though but men and sub­ject to passions as well as others, yet differing from the common sort, were much more to shew themselvs different in such occasions. Yet for all these admonitions and comforts he attempted his own death of­tentimes, and had slain himself if he had not been hindred. He look­ed up and down continually, thinking (I know not through what conceipts) to find his wife again. Which fresh grief, renewing the old one for his friend, he ceased not calling upon him & her by name con­tinually, intreating them to take him out of the world, and receive him into their beloved company. His life to be to him too cruell a bur­then, and insufferable torment without them. And being unable to endure so long grief, weakned by continuall fasting and watching, he took his bed hoping for approaching death: which peradventure the Gods would have granted him, had it not been contrary to their decree. They will have us come to our end when they please, making us instruments of their providence, and examples of their wrath; seeing that through our own defects, we fall into the efficacie of error. The Princesse Igene, who having lost her mother, had till then been (all drowned in tears) attentive to her own griefs, seeing her Father reduced to extreams, neither feeding nor sleeping, ran into his Cham­ber, and often kissing his hands, said unto him. If I had no interest in your tears, or that I had lesse reason to be passionate then you have, I would make bold (though but a simple maiden) to minister com­fort unto you. But because your wounds cannot be dressed, but by tearing open of mine own, I surcease, beseeching you of your self to do that, which my words and your sence are not able to perswade you. And though you do it for nothing else, yet do it to the end that the love which you did so deservedly bear to the Queen my mother, may not undeservedly prejudice that love which I by just reason ought to challenge, as daughter to you both. Behold, Sir, you have brought your self to such a passe, that you are like fruitlessely to follow her, if you do not take compassion on your self. I grant your love is in­divisible from her even in death it self. But why seeing that when you are dead, you cannot there enjoy her but by meer contemplation, cannot you be content to enjoy her here whilst you are alive, in the same manner? assuring your self, that endeavouring to die in despight of Heaven as you seek to do, it will surely be to her (who is already received into the fellowship of the blessed) a double grief, that you should be denied a place nigh unto her: and having forsaken me your common pledge, I should remain alone, an Orphan child with­out any heritage or assistance. The Princesse concluded these words with so many tears, that she bathed her Fathers hands therewith; whereupon he after long moan brake forth sighing into such like ex­pressions. If my griefs (daughter) were in such estate as to be relie­ved by reasons, I should quickly find my self disburthened; nature not wanting arguments to ease me of them. But they being of such a [Page 81]diverse constitution make my comforts and consolations, which be of a contumacious nature, not to depend upon others sayings, but mine own sences, which see too much to be lulled asleep at the sound of perswasions. Mine ears are stopped with such tenacious wax of bit­ternesse, that no Siren, have she never so melodious charming sounds, can cause me to slumber; your interests (I confesse) ought to be, and are of great force with me: but my grief and I, are two distinct things. You treat with me, as with a man who were yet subsisting, and doe not perceive that I ceased to be, when my fair Tamaris ceased to live. If I have not then the actions of a living man, much lesse can I have the free will of one that can resolve. And I would disswade you by all means from undertaking to perswade a thing which is so deaf as my dolour: which being void of any other sence, but of it self, wil not hear­ken to any thing but it self. Which if you should do, it would be do­ing the contrary to what you pretend, and you should be cruell which you are not. Be content therefore (daughter) a mind full of torments is incapable of consolation, and lenitives are contrary to gangred soars, Incisions and Iron, and nothing else daughter is able to cure me. If therefore you love me as you ought to do, why by de­nying me so salutiferous a remedy, do you keep me in pain, and un­der colour of piety, conspire with others to the keeping of me in tor­ments? The Princesse replyed unto him, abhorring her Fathers de­spair; But whilst (pious) she seeeks to disswade him from one evill, she (innocently) brings him into another altogether abhominable, and unthought of. For observing that in her which he often before had done without any scandall, namely her conformity, and like­nesse with Tamaris (the difference betwixt the one and the other, be­ing no greater then the difference between one drop of water and a­nother) he was at first strook dumb. And the sight of her affording him some comfort, that comfort bred delight, that delight desire, with so maligne a graduation, that forgetting the integrity wherein he had lived to that hour, he fell desperately in love with her. But because the mind cannot cast off its habituall vertues all at once as the snake doth its skin, shame at that time suppressed his affections, & she went away, thinking she had left him in better disposition. And imagining she did him good by often visiting him, as outward appea­rance deceivingly perswaded her. But there passed not many daies, but forgetting his grief, he dared to discover himself unto her, and having sent for her into his Chamber, said unto her, Tamaris (for so I will have your name to be hereafter) you will wonder peradven­at what I shall say unto you. You perceive my change, and believe your perswasions have been the cause of it, neither are you peradven­ture deceived. The true cause of my change is, because I need not to lament Tamaris any more, having her present, and I having been a long time blind, in not perceiving it, nor rightly looking upon you, and seeing it is so, why should I languish? who forbids me, but you may be my companion as she was, in my Crown and bed? Well, I am resolved it shall be so, and I thought to communicate this my resolu­tion [Page 84]unto you, before I related it to my Councill, because it concern­ed you most: Peradventure it will seem strange to the world, and to your self also; but wise folks are not governed by customes, if they be hurtfull: that some filthy love drives me to this, it cannot be. I am witnesse hereof to my self: I do not desire you as you are Igene, but as you are Tamaris, that Tamaris which I gained with my Lances point. You need not question, whether Igene remained astonished at the sound of this discourse, but being forced to answer him, she said: My Lord, I cannot believe your consolation hath its origine from what you say, it being no great matter for Children to resem­ble their Parents, such resemblance being ordinary and natural. Nei­ther doth her being my Mother make me to be her, for then should I have an Igene as she had, which I have not, unlesse I multiply in my self; or become another, I cease to be what I was. Therefore (my Lord) if you will have me to be Tamaris, you must make me to not be Igene, and being engendred of Theodoligus, make me to be borne of Rollone: which if it may be done, your pleasure be fulfilled. But it is impossible (my good Father) that you should have any such thought: it being too farre from the condition of so vertuous a King and Father as you are. I beseech you, that your consolations may pro­ceed from some better cause, from your selfe, from the fountain of those vertues wherein you were alwaies exemplary to the world. And if you have been pleased to jest with me to tempt me, I repute it to be the lesse evill, seeing you have no cause to do it. I having been educated in such manner, that my paternal and maternal ver­tues ought to make me guiltlesse even from thinking, much more from committing any dishonest or dissolute thing The King whose under­standing griefe had formerly corrupted, thought he was not deceived, though he were so, and firmly believed Igene was Tamaris, and if she were not, that it was lawful for him to transform her, and that by al­tering the name, he might alter the relations, altering those of Fa­ther and Daughter, into Husband and Wife: So that the poor Prin­cesse perceiving she contended with an infirm spirit, she was content­ed he should speak of it to the Councill, hoping they would contra­dict it; but she was deceived, for where the two Pillars of state are broken in pieces, Religion and Honour, the former consisting in ap­pearance, the latter in ambition, where titles are not conferred for merit, but wealth; where laws serve for snares, and not for protecti­on: where Delinquents put by their places of charge of base and poor that they were at first, are now become Officers, and rich, where there is no censure upon those who become rich against all possibility and manifest grounds; where the maxime of proper inte­rest, excludes that of the publick; where he that follows vertue is re­puted a fool and a sot, there are not to be expected any but wick­ed resolutions, the directers being Hypocrisie and Flattery. The Councill perceiving the King had made that proposall, not to be con­sulted upon, but concluded, found arguments to prove it necessary for the interest of the Kingdom; and declared, that therein the pub­lick [Page 85]good was concerned, being for the preservation of the Kings life, for his goodnesse, and valour necessary to the state: That having run hazard of life in the losse of his wife, and running hazard of it now, by the affection he bore to his Daughter, it ought to be look'd into, and he be satisfied therein. That the matter was not of such mo­ment as the vulgar made it, seeing that though law and custome were contrary to it, nature supplied the custome, and new laws having power to derogate from the old ones. Yet was not this assembly so void of men, but that there were some opposers in it, wherein was taught us by their dis-favours, that Princes love to have justice done, but not against themselves. The Nuptials were decreed between the Father and the Daughter, changing the name of Igene into that of Tamaris, as if by this means the substance were changed, and as if the Gods would subject to the new declarations of mortals, the old de­crees of their divine providence; wherein if there were no written law, yet is there an internall one, which cryes and proclaims it with­in man. The Princesse hearing of this Declaration, not by secret re­lation, but publick proclamations, resolving to die, rather then con­sent to such a wicked and incestuous marriage, retired into her Cham­ber; where having called her Nurse to her, she related the present danger, to obviate the which, they found no other remedy but to fly. Amongst all her servants, I alone was made choice of to provide a Ves­sel, which I did with so much secresie, that the Princesse was em­barqued, and had put out to Sea before the King heard of it, it being done with great ease in the night. But the nights being very short at that season of the year, the King being I know not how advised of her flight, got in person into a very swift Vessel to fetch us back. We were but a little way off, when we espied him in pursuit of us, and though we hanged out as much cloth as we could, and endeavoured as much as men could do, at last he overtook us, and he himself commanded our Marriners to lower the sailes.

But I shall relate a wonderfull thing to you; there arose at the same instant such a tempest, that the two vessels which were ready to touch, were suddainly separated, and in lesse then half an hours time had lost sight of one another; whether their Ship did sink (which we much doubt) or that the height of the waves took a­way the sight of her from us. We after having fought with the winds and Sea for the space of sixteen days, were cast upon this Island, where we had lost both our selves and the ship, if at the same time the tempest had not ceased. We were holpen ashore by these people with little Boats, without the losse of any thing. Now the Princesse is here in great perplexity; she believeth her Father to be drowned, having been advertized of so much by himself in a dream. Neither is it a­bove four nights since he appeared unto her so again, commanding her to marry a Druide, saying, he had contracted these espousals for for her with this Druides sister, and himself: a thing which hath put [Page 86]her into great perplexity, she not knowing how to understand these visions, nor how to believe them, and he threatning her ruine if she did any otherwise. Our ship is lost, neither have we any meanes to get out here, if your Courtesie (Sir-Knight) do not free us from her bringing us to some place where we may with incommodating any one either stay or provide our selves of a new vessel, as best shal please the Princesse my Lady, who shall for this favour remain for ever obliged to you.

After Feredo had thought a while upon those things which he had heard (not without amazement of the Knight, who began to doubt he was loath to do the Princesse this service) answered him; Sir-Knight, I was born to perform the same duties as my profession binds me to serve and help that sex, especially when a Lady of so high a de­gree is concerned as the Princesse Igene is. Wherefore I hold my mis­hap well employed, and hereafter call it my good Fortune, which hath brought me hither with so much danger, against my design and expectation, to become author of so much good. I will willingly car­ry her away and all her followers out of this Iland, and convey her whither she shall please. Dinacre (for so was the Knight called) was much comforted by this courteous answer, and would have kissed his hands for it, having stood all this while in great fear of being staid, or carried away again into Norway, or to have remained confined in that Iland for want of shipping, there comming none thither but very seldom upon occasion of fishing, which would have come late, and proved incommodious and uncertain for the Princesses use. Where­fore having thanked Feredo, he appointed to come to him again in the afternoon, to bring him to the Princesse. In the mean time returning to her lodging he related to her this happy encounter, and what had passed with him, which was very comfortable tidings to her, hastning the time of her departure, fearing every hour to fall into her Fathers hands again: the Orcades being at that present, subject to the Crown of Norway, and not in a long time after sold to the King of Scots. And to this end she had given order all that while to her followers, that they should by no means make known who she was, for fear of being retained there. Dinacre went according to his appointment to fetch the Prince to the Princesse, who longingly expected him, with great desire to be presently shipped away. Feredo had never before met with any such beauty, neither did he know whether to admire, or be ra­vished with it most; various, yet possible effects where a new budd of amorous affection begins to spring. Igene receiving him with extraor­dinary courtesie (satisfied by the beautifullest presence that ever she beheld in man) thanked him for the offers he had made to Dinacre: assuring him she should never forget it, & that it grieved her, she was brought so low by fortune, that she could not requite him with effects equall to his courtesies. Feredo recollecting his spirits, answered, Ma­dam, I come hither to offer you, my self, my ship and whatsoever I [Page 87]have. You have no need of your former fortunes to oblige me. Nature, inclination, and the order of knight hood having already sufficiently bound me. I see you are but hereby lodged, the weather is fair, the ship provided of water, therfore it wil be time to ship your self, when you please. You shall command the ship, and I hope the windes also, for there will no creature be able to disobey so much beauty. My voyage is into North-wales a Kingdom of Albion, a Country not farre distant from hence. If you please to come thither, it shall be at your disposall, if not, my will shall be to go where you command me. Igene blushing at her own commendations (though very well deserved) ha­ving given him thanks for his good wil. answered; That any part was indifferent to her. Therefore his first proffer should be sufficient trouble to him, to accommodate her and hers (meaning her mariners which were many) with passage, without going out of his way, she having no need of it. And having caused all her goods to be shipped, she went aboord, joyfull to have escaped all her conceived dangers, Feredo proud of having gotten such precious Ballace in his Vessel. They sailed with a prosperous Gale, and having no foul weather to make them Sea-sick, he went often to entertain her in her Cabin, where she having heard who he was, excused her self for not having given him those due respects his greatnesse merited. And because she had as far as Norway heard somthing of his misadventures, she intrea­ted him to relate unto her the History of them, which he willing­ly did: Not concealing how he had been a Druide a long time. The apparition of his sister, with her Father in Tule. The order given him, to marry Igene or none. He described the face, habits, and age of The­odogilus as if he had been there present: and at last he said, Now Ma­dam you may apprehend, if I having heard your adventures by Di­nacre, and the name of Igene (which I knew not in that part of the world to enquire for) I did esteem my self happy. Therefore since destinie hath made me your servant, I beseech you what your wil con­curring thereunto, you will declare me such: which having said, he kneeled before her, and took her hand to kisse it, and did so, though she courteously would have refused it. The Princesse much moved, knew not which to do first, lament her Fathers death or answer Fe­redo. She did both, and though confusedly, and with words mingled with tears; yet she modestly declared she was content with her desti­nies good disposall. There were present at these espousalls Dinacre, the Nurse and the waiting gentlewoman, so that being full of joy, they mutually congratulated the fatall meeting of so fair a couple. They arrived within few daies with prosperous winds into North-Wales, landing at Bangor in the streight of the Ile of Mon about four and twenty miles from Arlech, where at that time the King held his Court. The fame of his arrivall was presently spread all the Country over, men of all sorts, and women flocking thither, desirous to see their Prince after so many years as it was since they had lost him. His [Page 88]Father being advised thereof by reiterated messengers, commanded all the nobility to go and meet him, and being more particularly informed by Cataulo (who was ridden before) how all things stood, and particularly touching Igene; And notwithstanding he was very aged, yet hee got upon horseback to meet them, accom­panied by all the noblest Ladies of the Kingdome; Feredo was welcomed by his Father with tears of tendernesse and joy. Igene re­ceived as a daugher, and honoured as Queen. And after the daies appointed for rest, and preparation of the nuptials were past, they were married, peaceably enjoy­ing their fatall loves, with prosperity worthy both their perfections.

CORALBO languished a long time in Ericusa, not without great danger of death, severall times be­ing upon the very point of losing his life, had it not been for the diligent care of the Dutchesse Chrisanta. The wounds were not mortall, yet so dangerous, that he was often bemoaned for dead. Let us for pitty let him rest, let us forbear being cruel to him, and let us not put him into actions and journeyes before his wounds be cicatrized. We will speak of Almadero arrived into Lusitania, with his second pretended Wife: We will admire in a Prince of so constant nature, the unlook't for effects of such inconstancy, that we may thereby gather, that as all good causes do not produce effects (like unto themselves, so that of evill effects, some there be which have their Origine from good motions of the soul, or from the motions of another understanding of a better soul, by us not compleatly understood.

After Philarchus had taken (as we said) Almadero's armour, to make himself thought to be Almadero, he scarcely arrived into Gaules, but he heard of Viriato's death; wherefore returning into Lusitania, and not finding Almadero there, he resolved, (having seen the Govern­ment of the Interregnum first set in order) to seek him every where. His first journey was to Leuciana, but fortune left him there no light at all of him; the Priest, who had unburied Liarta, being dead, and Dorcallo as ignorant of all the secrets concerning it, as it was confused, because he knew no what was become of his Brother, so that depar­ting [Page 90]from thence, he happened in the entrance of the Kingdom of Castile into the same harbor Almadero had lodged, where by divers circumstances comprehending that it was he, he came upon his tracks by the marks of his Armour into Italy, where he sought to no end in all the Princes Courts, till at last arriving at Parthenope, he met some body who gave him certain news, that he was come to Ericusa. Where­fore having crossed that Kingdom, he came amongst the Salentines, and taking a Vessel at Hydrontum, he presented himsel unlooked for to the sight of Almadero, almost at that time as the Prince of Pheacia lay a dying, the advices he first gave him were of his Fathers death; the desire with which he was expected by all the orders of the states, the need of his speedy return into Lusitania. Almadero contrary-wise, related unto him his new loves; and though the memory of the old ones caused tears to trickle from his eyes, yet the propriety of nature caused him to comfort himself, opinion having taken from him all hope of ever possessing her again: a thing (as well as all others) most wisely disposed of by nature, otherwise this course of life would be unusefuly and contrary to its ends, employed in nothing but pas­sions and dolours. Resolved then (upon the supposition of this pri­vation) to take to him the Princesse of Pheacia in stead of his deceas­ed wife. He sent Philarcus back into Lusitania with Orders from him, commanding him to return again presently, with a fair Fleet, and a sufficient train of Ladies, for the supposed Queens attendance. But no sooner were the King and his pretended Queen arrived to Oli­sippo, and Crowned, but there revived again in Almadero, the anci­ent affections of his deceased wife, with such bitter passions, that finding no consolation, he desired to see her once again, under pre­tence of having her buried with her young Sonne in the Tombs of his predecessor Kings. Which though it did not please the Queen ve­ry well: yet she would not be seen to oppose him in so pious an of­fice, worthy the gratefull remembrance of so good a Prince; and so much the rather, that the other having been his wife, and had a Child by him, it seemed to be an unworthy thing, to leave those bones in an ignoble and unknown Tomb, without any inscription, whereby it might so much as any way be known that there lay Liarta. Clothing himself therefore, and the whole Court in mourning, he went to Leu­ciana, where looking upon Dorcallo with an evill eye, and having open­ed the Tomb, he found the Child, but no Mother, no sinnen, nor bones, or any thing else belonging to her. Almadero raged at it, for every one knew that there she was buried, and no man could imagine how she should have been taken from thence, unlesse she had been conveyed away by Dorcalloes means, at Viriato's command, or burned, that the ashes being thrown away, the memory of her should utterly perish: For he had no reason at all to think her alive: or what could Dorcallo answer, being utterly ignorant of what had happened, and he dead who alone could have told the true cause of that bodies be­ing wanting? He was therefore beheaded, and though unjustly for what was alledged against him; yet justly, insomuch that he through [Page 91]his indiscretion, had been the only cause of all the evill had happen­ed in this businesse: Nothing could be drawn out of the innocent criminal in his torments, but bitter execrations of his ignorances confessing himself worthy of any punishment whatsoever, if he fal­sified in any thing which was demanded of him. So that the Judges being in a confusion, and Almadero more then they, he was constrain­ed to return to Olisippo, with the body of the Child, and lay alone (after the funeral Obsequies were performed) in his Ancestors Mo­numents. Whilest his desire encreased every day to lay the Mother by it, she being alive, and therefore incapable of bearing the Child company in that place. The grieved King was come to that passe, that he took no joy in any thing. And as his goodnesse being great, forced him to use the new Queen well, yet could not he force his luke-warm affection to be reinflamed, one evill being produced by another: For finding no comfort in the losse of his first wife he was in despair because he could not love, but even by a secret and occult violence, constrained to abhor the second, and that (as he thought) against reason; she being innocent and blamelesse. Extravagant dreams also increased this new humour in him, which every night re­presented Liarta alive unto him, reproaching him with the violation of his marriage laws, by making another woman participant of his bed, she being yet alive, and which was worse, with the title of wife: Whether this chanced through the extream — of his new thoughts, which altering his spirits, represented these new phantasms unto him. Or because souls really participating of the Graces of di­vinity, come even in the very abysse of ignorance in some manner il­luminated with truth. The Queen on the other side (in whom her Husbands melancholly grew so much the more insupportable for the present, as his precedent favours were before grown to a kind of ex­cesse) finding her self brought to a worser state then a widdows, re­solved one day to say thus to him: My Lord, If in one that is accusto­med to evill, custome may dispose the mind to suffering, without suf­ferance. Certainly one that is used to well-being, cannot endure to suffer a privation of it, without extream grief, I shall have little labour then to make you capable of my sences: in the horrible change of your carriage I discover some time since towards me, a change to opposites. I should say from love to hate, if I doubted I had gi­given you any cause to deserve it by any defect in my self. as without cause I find it, thanks to the monstrous effect of your unheard of in­constancy. I am a woman, and born a Princess, you a Knight and a King; wherefore if we speak of courtesie, you owe it to the sex as a Knight: if of duty, you are manifoldly obliged unto me as a King. Wherefore I cannot chuse but stile my self grievously offended by you, if not fully deceived: I accuse you therefore for it, before your own tribunall, desiring that you may tell me in what I have so far erred, that I should deserve to be in Lusitania dispossessed of that af­fection, which you esteeming me worthy of, voluntarily bestowed upon me in Ericusa? she would have said more, but that her sobs and [Page 92]sighs stopped the passage of her words, which made her give way to Almadero's answer, who being by her speeches surprized and confu­sed, after he had a little bethought himself, answered her thus; Ma­dam, I first of all promise you, not before mine own tribunall seat, but before the high tribunall of the divine powers, that I will ho­nour you as long as I live, with the same terms of honour, as hereto­fore I have done. I acknowledge my self obliged unto you in every distinction and title; I assure you, you can not more efficaciously il­lustrate your right, nor more grievously obscure mine, then I do my self. One thing only I beseech you, that in this mine injustice, you would repute me innocent and guiltlesse. I made choice of you (Madam) for the only moderatrix of all mine affections, while I be­lieved there was none other before you, that could be an object of them, or moderate them, which I did with that constancy, and sin­cerity of mind, of which I will not say the effects, (seeing to you they seem to diminish) but the Conscience may afford such witnesse to, as I alone know to be upright and void of deceipts. But (alas) what shall I do if the heavens protesting unto me that another is living, bury me in ignorance of her death, and force me, having failed in my duty towards my first wife, to fail now in the second towards you, for no other cause, but only because I doubt that I have former­ly failed? My fore-past mis-fortunes are not unknown to you Ma­dam, my marriage to Liarta, nor after her marriage, her presumed death, her not being found in the Grave where she was buried. Add to this, how there passeth scarce any night, but she appears to me in a dream, tells me she is living, reproves me for being wedded to you, assures me it will not be long before she comes to revisit me, advising me in the mean time, to provide for your honour and person before she comes. I cannot so much as dream on believing of dreams: Hea­vens do not deceive; and when for a punishment they lull our un­derstandings asleep; they do not do it by manifest visions, but by terms wrapt up in clouds, to the end that the judgements eyes may not pierce thereinto. In my case, there are the evidences of an un­derstanding, illuminated by that speciall grace which (flying a ma­licious soul, that in the abominable way of interests, imagines it can­not erre, when it is ready to precipitate) doth not fail a well dispo­sed mind; and in the thickest darkness discovers to it the rayes of its light that it may not fall. If mine instinct was alwaies remote from all manner of deceipt, why should I deceive you, a Princesse of such merit, to the dammage of my reputation and honour? I have espou­sed you, chose you for companion of my life, and Lady of the King­dom, it is true: but I did it not for any interest in your states and fortunes, but only for the worth of your person, for those rare beau­ties which after Liarta's incomparable ones, had only power to bind me. I have believed her dead, and upon this supposition I erred a­gainst her, against you, against my self; and if now, I erre again, and am again deceived, I shall not deceive others. For dead (and to discover this, I desire but four months time) you shall find Alma­dero [Page 93]the same to you in Lusitania, as he was in Pheacia: and being dead, take what amends you please for my fault, so that you judge it as it is, void of malice and deceipt.

No reason, be it never so pregnant, can comfort a woman in the midst of her passions, especially if she have likelihoods and reasons on her side, as indeed Laodomia had many. She judged Almadero's visions to be but imaginations raised up by Liartas old love, her new love fayling. This defect proceeding (as oftentimes it happens in lovers after a violent desire) from the possession of the person. But she could not grow so fierce, but he humbled himself the more, desiring onely to have patience but for these four months, which were not­withstanding rather extorted from her then granted by her. Lea­ving her therefore in the City, he went to Leuciana, intending to spend that time there. Having caused Radimiro and Dorilla to be en­quired for every where. Their absence (with very good reason) more then any thing else, making him believe Liarta to be alive, for if she were dead they had no reason to absent themselves out of Lusi­tania whilest he reigned. He would lodge in the same rooms where she was Prisoner, passing his time in lacrimous invocations. He com­plained by reason she came not, as if a promise had been already made to delay it no longer. It was in the mean time divulged abroad by an open murmuring, that Liarta's shaddow had been seen near to her Tombe, which went so far, that Almadero being one night at sup­per, there was newes brought to him of it, as of a thing affirmed and seen by diverse. Who, being sent for, averred that they had seen the Princesse (whom they knew very well when she was living) clothed in fine white linnen, sitting by the stone which closed up her tombe: And whilst between questions and answers they stood in great sus­pence and silence, there was a delicate voice heard, which without the Castle ditch as it were one that called, pronounced twice the name of Lilla. The King heard it and knew it, rose from the Table, and going to the window, and chiding the Sentinell for shewing him­self too slack in his office in that occasion: he could see nor hear no more at that time. The night was very dark, yet for all that the Sentinell related he had seen one clothed in white, come, call, and go away. That he was once about to have shot, and had wounded her, if he had not thought her to be a woman. The King commanding him expressly to say nothing to it, retired, and was all the rest of the night himself a carefull watchman, sending also into the Churchyard to see if it did not appear there. But dead she might well be there, for alive as he desired to have her, she could not; the voice being heard with­out the-Castle-walls: whose ingresses and gates were kept shut every where. The day-break hardly appeared in the Horison, when Almade­ro seeing his expectations prove vain, resolved to go to sleep, if the perturbation of his troubled spirits would have afforded him any rest. But he soon perceived that troubled minds carried with them their torments. Wherefore rising and going out, with Philarchus alone, he looked in all the plces thereabouts, and finding nothing, not so [Page 94]much as his old master (to whose Cottage he went) gave Philarchus occasion (reputing these pains uselesse, and his afflictions hurtfull) to pray him to return, remonstrating to him that the voices he had heard were imaginations, and meer illusions. The shaddowes of Li­arta, that if they were reall thing (being aereall forms, and spirituall substances) they could not appear but in the night. Daylight being an enemy and a powerfull dissipatour of Phantasmes and Ghosts, Almadero knew not how to dispute these things. But his own pra­ctice seemed to him to be of as much authority as any Mathemati­call demonstration, which in a corrupted sence implies to any imagi­nation. Wherefore returning into the Castle, he passed the rest of the day in the same trouble, and was very excusable for it. There be­ing no resolution more difficult to be taken, then that which hangs betwen ambiguity and truth. Night being come, he went to those Balcones from whence Liarta was wont to speak to him: and causing the lights to be taken from thence, that they might be no more hin­derance, and that he might the better see without being seen, staid there till past supper time; but nothing appearing, moved rather by shame then hunger, he supped and went to bed. Hee had not scarce slept his first sleep, when there was a great noise all about, and his ser­vants being awake came in, and told him, Sir, my Ladies Ghost stands firm in the Church-yard, where any one may behold it. Al­madero rouzing himself out of his sleep, calling for a night-gown, ran almost naked, accompanied onely by Philarchus and some few house­hold servants who were with him.

Liarta (after we left her) having taken Harbour in Barcinone, weary of the Sea, not so much to end her journey on horseback, and be informed of Almadero's businesse, as to conceal her arrivall, which would have been easilier known if she hadd taken harbour in Lusitania. All which she did, being not yet resolved on the manner whereby she should make her self known. She heard with uncredible pleasure the grief which Almadero suffered for her, and how he was resolved to sojourn at Leuciana. She arrived thither with all the secrecy as might be. There came into her fancy diverse expedients, whereof she chose one which was the strangest and most phantasticall; either because she would make more certain triall of Almadero's love, or because be­ing naturally inclined to mirth, she desired to take some pleasure after so much sorrow. She was of a most pleasant humour, a perspicuous understanding, inventive, ready, — so that though she had not been possessed of such a rare beauty as she was adorned withall, yet the conditions of her internall mind, which appeared so resplendent in all her actions, had been sufficient to ensnare any affection whatso­ever, much more Almadero's which was long since enflamed with love. Qualities, which if in domestick conversation deserved the name of amiable, changed their title in matters of greater importancy, where­in she was esteemed a worthy parallell of any prudence. And though her adversities had turned her pleasantnesse into sadnesse; yet hearing of Almadero's amorous disposition towards her, she presently put a­way [Page 95]Melancholly, that ingratefull adoptive Child, having again en­tertained mirth, her naturall legitimate Daugher. She might have written or sent by Radimiro, and so have ended the play at one game or two; but she would not, rather enclined to bring him about another way.

Being arrived by night to Leuciana, to Terrino's Cabin (who was Al­madero's old Master) she lodged there, having told him what she would have him do. But having heard of the old Priests death, who had taken her out of the Grave, she thought to make use of his successor; where­fore having delivered some small presents to Terrino, she sent them to the Priest by him, and to intreat him to come forth of the Fort to visit a sick body, who had a certain secret to intrust unto him before it dy­ed. Terrino did his embassage faithfully, and brought him out to his little Cabine. Bermondo (for such was the Priests name) had known Liarta, and had with others been at her Funeralls: wherefore the ter­ror, for seeing her now alive, would have been great, if she had not emboldned him by preventing him; and this also upon the suddain would have done but little good, if the presence of Radimiro and Do­rilla had not encouraged him. She recounted unto him what had hap­pened to her, how she revived, and how she was taken out of the Grave. She intreated him to assist her, in bringing to a happy period, her hitherto unhappily represented Tragi-comedy, shewing nothing could thereby redound unto him, but weale, benefits, and favours. Bermondo having considered all things, embraced the occasion of so good a fortune without any contradiction, and having concluded what was to be done, returned home again, and having given her the best directions he could, he came forth again to fetch her together with Radimiro and Dorilla, the two clothed like Country Lasses, the third like a Country fellow laden with provision. The two maidens were pass'd unknown, when as chance would have it (to bring the businesse the better to passe) at the turning of a corner of a wall, Radimiro meeting with a familiar acquaintance of his, presently knew him notwithstanding his disguise; yet was so circumspect, that ima­gining such a habit could not be without some mystery, followed him void of any evill thought, knowing Radimiro well enough alrea­dy to be wondrous honest: and the Castle at that time free from any jealousie, and no confines any way suspitious, did let him go into the house, thinking he would have come out again presently; but seeing he stayed, he knocked at the door, and told Bermondo who came out to answer him; he desired to speak with the Country-man, who came but now into the house: Bermondo no whit dismaied, though some­what displeased thereat, yet being it was to no purpose to deny that which was already evident; he went in and told Radimiro who it was enquired for him. Who after he had caused him to come in, and lo­vingly embraced him, related unto him the occasion of his coming in such manner, recommending the secresie thereof unto him, and desiring assistance of him if need should require. Poncius (for so this friend was called) hearkned to this news with great joy, consider­ing [Page 96]that the Queen being alive, the King would be free from all trou­bles, and offering him all assistance he was able to give, came outa­gain presently. Night being come, Liarta clothed her self in white linnen, like unto that wherein she was buried, and as all women used in those days to be buried. She came into the Church-yard, and sat her down upon the Tomb side, in which the precedent yeare she had been enclosed, it happened then very luckily, that Poncius knew Ra­dimiro, for being instructed by Bermondo, taking some friends along with him (pretending to invite them home to supper) passed along by the Church-yard, where that white appearing to them, every one was affrighted at it. But when Poncius, who made shew of being in greater fear then any of the rest, said, that it was Liarta's Ghost, they all ran away, and he the foremost. There was at that time in Leuciana, an old woman called Safilea, who had been a Washer-woman to La­arta, who had so grieved at her pretended death, that she had like to have dyed with sorrow: so that Dorilla relating many times to her Mistresse, the accidents which befell in that unfortunate mishap, tel­ling her this poor womans affections towards her, she was afterwards very beneficiall to her, affording her very good means to live, and leave store of wealth to her Heirs. This woman was then coming from a house where she had been a washing according to her wonted custome, and because it was dark, had gotten a great lighted fire­brand in her hand in stead of a Torch to light her, and the way to her poor Cottage being along by the Church-yard side, Liarta being ri­sen off the Tomb, and leaning on the Church-yard wall, which was not above girdle high, to see Poncius and his companions run, or ra­ther tumble one over another; this old woman came by, agitating and stirring the Fire-brand up and down, that it illuminated the am­bient air so much, that Liarta knew her, and called her by her name: the good woman knowing the voice, and calling her to mind, ama­zed with horror, stood as she had been growen into the ground, not able to move any part of her, not so much as her eyes, already fixed on Liarta's face, for want of spirit. All the motion was, and this also an effect of immobility, the falling of the Fire-brand out of her hands, and burning her shooes, and the hem of her Garments, which Liarta perceiving, came out of the Church-yard, and shaking her by the hand, told her she was alive, and bid her not be affraid: But all this would not serve, she was forced to run in and send out Bermondo, Radimiro, and Dorilla, to carry her home, where after much difficulty and trouble, she came to her self again. She in the mean time, taking pleasure in others fears, delighted the more therein, the greater and more dangerous the fright was. The ordinary of such humours be­ing to delight inventions; deceiving of others being the object of their pastimes. She would fain have affrighted Almadero, to revenge the injury done her in marrying another wife so soon, she threatned him therewith, and used her best endeavours to do it, but she could not, love being soveraign above all terrors and affections. Dorilla be­ing come again from Safilea, weary with toyling, and tired with laugh­ter [Page 97]said to Liarta. Madam, I know not what is in your mind: You have been dead, you have been buried, and have certainly contract­ed some friendship with those of the other world. I would not goe alone into that Church-yard upon no conditions whatsoever. Because thou art a fool answered Liarta, who can hinder thee, but onely thy credulity to others phantasticall imaginations? fill not your head with such imaginations, and yon will be void of terrors. What harm can the Church-yard, or the dead that lie in it do you? One enemy kils another nature prompting him, that after he is dead he could do him no harm. For if he thought he could trouble him being dead, it would no way avail him to take away his life. And on the other side, it would be good for him that wants strength in his life time to revenge himself of his Enemy, to die, that he might after death be avenged on him. Dead men do not affright nor endammage any. I am exceed­ing fearfull replyed Dorilla, and so would you too, (Madam) if as I said before, you had not made a league with them. I am in league with them indeed (said Liarta) but it was contracted by my Father, who caused me to be brought up without any such terrors, as con­trary to all reason, they use to affright little children withall: where­by not onely fearfull women, but couragious and stout men also come before they be aware to be awakened, and made subject to such vain fears. I believe neverthelesse that the Gods have sometimes given us documents this way, neither could this either be credible by any ar­guments of nature, if those of piety did not teach it us; but to make an ordinary and common practice thereof, is a foolish thing unworthy a solid and well instructed understanding. Believe me; that of so many that have professed they have seen phan­tasmes and apparitions; either they have been mistaken, or have feighned, to laugh at others simplicities; or have been deceived, as Pon­cius & Sasilea were even now. Dorilla notwithstanding stood obstinately in her former opinion, thinking it was no pleasant thing to be such waies deceived. Liarta went out of the Castle the next day before the Gates were shut, and all her company in the same manner as they went in. Poncius assisting thereunto whatsoever might happen. She being gone to Terrino's house, came towards midnight to the out side of the rampires to cry Lilla, and then it was that Almadero heard her. There remained now the last act to play for which she was forced to go into the Castle again: where having clothed her selfe to the best advantage for her beauty, though plain in white as before­times, she would have Bermondo and Radimiro put on white habits also. Which they did, and taking some instruments with them, they opened the Tomb for her, as she had commanded, a work, which be­ing it could not be done without making a noise, gave the neigh­bours occasion to look out, and seeing the men in white linnen, and the Ghost walking in the Church-yard (which they had heard speak of peradventure more then was true) all ran in and lock­ed themselves in at doores. Bermondo in the mean time was gone in­to the grave with a candle and lantern, and taking out the candle, had set it upright in the middle of the Grave, which reverberating [Page 98]its light towards, shewed with a shaddowing light, the grave open, and Liarta sitting upon the side of it. Pencius on the other side, had taken two men along with him upon occasion of going the round, and passing along by the Church-yard, seeing the light which came out of the grave, and Liarta there, carried newes thereof to the Court, whereupon the King as we said before came in person to behold the thing he so much desired to see. Liarta stood attentive, to act her part well: and espying a far off by the lights the company which was comming, she besought her self how she was to speak with Almadero himself; which so far moved her, that her blood freezing, as it were, within her, she grew pale, as if she had done it a purpose, to make her seem to be, as she feigned her self, namely dead. Almadero had sent a servant before, to bring him newes of the apparition: but his ardent affection making him swifter then the messenger, he overtook him, & was assured of the desired object by his own eyes. Liarta was troubled a second time, and wanted but little of sowning. The tears streamed out of those two Fountains, which being alive were pretended dead. Almadero stood wavering what he had best to do, but spying the tears, he could not chuse but shed some for company. The little wall which encompassed the Church-yard, or rather fear had stayed the compa­ny. The King being got in, not through the entrance which was on the other side, but vaulted over the wall, commanded the rest to stay behind, and not follow him, wherein he was easily obeyed, the affections of the standers by being diverse, according to the variety of their temperaments. Some not onely not daring to look upon the spirit, but doubting that, if it had looked upon them, they might re­ceive some great dammage by it. Others seemed to be much comforted by that vision, fearing nothing but that it would vanish away too soon. Some observed that the behaviour of the other world, was like that of this world: the motion the same as that of animate bodies in this life. Others more tender, and compassionate seeing her weep, wept for company, not perceiving that spirits had no need of handker­chers, to wipe off their tears as this did. Liarta was extreamly well pleased to see Almadero in the Churchyard alone: he contrarywise, was extreamly amazed seeing the Tombe enlightned within side, which he had not at first discovered: and never having before seen such a sight, it there fell in his mind whether this spirit had not some dan­gerous and mischievous intention against him, because he was mar­ried again to another, a suspition which suddenly vanished away again, this fear, though great, being banished by the violent affection of an excessive love. This meeting would have been one of the greatest trialls that ever was of Almadero's valour, if his being in love had not eclipsed the transcendency of it. Being come within some four pa­ces of her, he stood still amazed, and distilling cold drops of sweat burst out in such words, Lady, Spirit, Angell, or Goddesse, whatsoe­ver thou be: as the seeing of you heretofore was to me the chief of all happinesses, so would it be now the supream of comforts, if you did but shew your self such here, as you have been pleased to shew your [Page 99]self to me in my dreams. I esteemed you alive, and such have you ap­peared to me in my visions. But (alas) these your last apparitions, this open Tombe, this beautifull, but pale visage, shew me the con­trary of that which to mine inestimable beatitude I had undoubtedly promised my self. Which being so, I believe that your being yet will­ing to make me participant of your sweet presence proceeds from this, that you being not able any more to come to me, I should sit my self to come to you. I am exceeding well content with it, and need no preparation for so desired a voyage. Uncase me out of this body, and do it quickly, for with it I dare not come near you. I fear my hands would tear, and my embracements discompose the naturall connexi­on of your so fair and so much by me adored shaddow; wherefore to prevent me the falling into such an error, make me a free spirit, be­cause the body being dead, and by such a means perpetually coupled to you, I may embrace you free from all danger of losing you any more, by death or any other casualty. Liarta had much adoe to bridle her tears, incited to a rapide course by the spurrs of tendernesse. But vertue that ambitious Goddesse, never failed of aid to those as ido­lize her: wherefore with a placid look she answered him. My beloved spouse, The visions of the happy do not deceive but mortall sences, are of no use, where I now sojourn. Our Idiomes and significations are far different from yours. If I told you I lived, I do not lie; nothing is wanting me towards a perfect life, you onely excepted. Therefore I come to you. I desire to have you, and shall have you; if two repug­nant loves take you not away from me. That of the world, and of La­odamia. For to leave her that is alive, you living: to follow one in death, who is likewise dead, hath some impossibility in a thing, com­posed of sences as man is. Peradventure that your having loved me so dearly, makes you yet retain some of that holy and legitimate flame unquenched after my decease. But suppose you should take upon you, so good and so worthy a resolution; what would you do with your second wife? Will you having brought her out of the East, leave her as a stranger, to the arbitrement of such as wish her evill? you have done well in not adventuring to touch me: not because blessed soules suffer any such divisions as the Poets fain, but because the essay of sences is not permitted to any living creature in spirituall substances; And I doubting of the same in you, would with remedies prevent it: Behold me then in my former naturall body, now to this end reassu­med. No longer a meer spirit am I, but of flesh and bones, for with­out them I could not articulately utter those word, which you plain­ly hear me pronounce. Wherefore with my permission you might lawfully touch and embrace me if I would suffer you, Almadero hea­ring thus much, would have embraced her presently, but she stretch­ing forth her hand with a mild smile said. Stir not from thence (my dear Almadero) for you are not yet permitted to touch me, Answer me first to what I have demanded of you. He having laid aside all fear, answered. Will you do me then so much wrong (Madam) as to be­lieve, that I can put in an equall ballance of comparison that affecti­on [Page 100]which I bear to you, with that towards others, and make a doubt of mine elections? The love of the world and of Laodamia, were al­waies in respect of that which I shall eternally bear to my Lilla, of none esteem. The first was born with me, and you being dead, it dy­ed. The latter was a small sparkle, of that inextinguishable fire, wherein my heart burns continually for you: wherefore an effect which so far comes short of its cause, can not offer to be parallel to it, and have those formalities you ascribe it. I call heaven to wit­nesse, that had I not thought it pusillanimity to not suffer dolours, I had opened my self a passage to another life, and opened my brest to have followed you. Neither had this withheld my hand, it was fear of rendring my self unworthy by any such act of your fellowship, that staid me from any such violence. And this passage being shut to me, I sought by betaking my self to a new love, to apply a plaister to mine incurable sore, not thinking thereby to heal it, but only to mi­tigate it, hoping it would be a lenitive fitting to mitigate the corro­sivenesse of my wound. I did like those diseased men, who being by some continuall pain deprived of sleep, and it being necessary for them, make use of soporiferous Medicines, drawing from a naturall Artifice that rest, which nature denyeth them, and yet necessarily re­quireth. As for the rest (Madam) to provide for the necessities of my present wife, is a matter of no moment, for one to whom dying is the least of all cares. I have a Brother who is mine Heir: I will appease my wife with gifts, I will fit her with a Fleet to carry her home, she shall be gone, and I will come. Liarta inwardly joyed hearing of this, but it not sufficing her, lovers being greedy and desirous in their joyes, she replyed; The course you mean to take (my Almadero) will be very good, if you be as well resolved to die as you imagine you are: Examine your self, look well whether you be free from those affecti­ons which humanity brings along with it: Whether heaven be your scope: whether death which is a terror to others, be a comfort to you, representing it self unto you: not as it brings impossibility, and a disannulling, but pain, and glory, light and darknesse, a sempiter­nall day, or a sempiternall night: Otherwise your resolution would be very unadvised, as contrary to sence, nature, and reason, and to the disposition of heaven it self, which doth not condescend to others passionate affects; to mine I say, to those for which I desire you. Here Liarta made a short stop, sorry she had let any such thing come forth of her mouth. Yet presently (thinking she might blanch it over) she proceeded; I say this, as misdoubting my self: I examine that such a desire can have no place in me, but by vertue of mine old flame of that ancient amorous affection, a humane passion, an effect of sence, from which (thanks to death therefore) I now feel my self freely enfranchised. Madam (replied Almadero) you tell me of things I do not understand. But as for what concerns you, none but you can plenarily resolve me; and as for that belongs to me, I can expresly affirm. That my desire is good; that God may as well be lo­ved in the honest love of his creatures, as comprehended in the in­comprehensible [Page 101]artifice of his works. Dying can be no annoyance to me: and if for the before alledged reasons it doth bring any to o­thers, the goods and the evils are different, according to each ones different imaginations. I am young, health-full, a King, conditions which may move me to love my life, yet I believe the contrary, is lawful to me, by reason, by sence, by nature; The happinesses or miseries, though in an equall degree, are not equall in all, being di­versified by the diversities of phantasies, wants of health, and wants of means, are the reall causes why men grow weary of their lives; of which wants (God be praised) I am void; it remains then, that dy­ing without any natural contradictions, depends upon those passions which have tyrannicall Monarchy over others: I find my self in that sick mans condition, who wanting no delicious kind of food, wants tasts to feel the savouriness of it. If my delight be not in any human felicity, why should I refuse to die? My appetite serves only for that which I have, not am like to have, which is your self. If you then dead, can not live again, nature having no such regress; why shall I not die, to live with you who are my life, and to terminate those tor­ments which are never like to end in me, but only by death? as for the rest, unfold I pray you (Lady) the enigma's, or Riddles which you have propounded unto me, I clearly comprehending what you before said to me, namely that your idiomes and significations, are far beyond our capacitites, seeing they are not only far off, but to my capacity impossible and contradictory. You say you are come to me, to the end I should come to you: This hath no repugnancy in it; yea, there is nothing I more approve of, or better understand: But this seems to me to be repugnant, when you say you do not know, whether that be it precisely, for which you would have me, & if you do will it, whether you can will it; for such a will being but the effect of the an­cient love, love a human passion, you by death free'd from passions, can not will, that which you can not; and being able, that incertain­ty should arise, whether the heavens do condescend to these af­fections or no [...] wherefore whether blessed souls be capable of impli­cities, or whether a body already consumed by time (as yours should be) may shew it self uncorrupt without illusions, are such things as I not knowing, desire to be informed in them by you my sweet God­dess; Liarta remained confounded by this request, being taken on a suddain upon a subject, if not quite remote from her notice, yet so difficult, that it availed her much to have been brought up amidst the eases of her Fathers house, against the stile of her sex, in learning: So that having recourse to her memory, that faithfull Treasurer, and from her borrowing that little which she could sophistically answer to that purpose; she said to him, You ask me (my Almadero) to know things which naturally exceed the faculty of yours and my under­standing, and that which is impossible either for me to know, or you to be satisfied in: Yet thus much I will tell you, That human intel­lect wanting power to have full knowledge of us, namely of the sub­stance of separated souls; when it is once come to know, that we are, [Page 102]it proceeds no further: And if it doth proceed, that knowledge which it gains, extends not to those things which are in us, but to those which are not; just as Philosophers do touching celestial bodies: they comprehend them in their being: no, but in their not being, averring them to be without gravity, without levity, ingenerable, incorrupti­ble. Moreover, the intellect not apprehending but by the means of senses; it is impossible for one that is born blind, to have the knowledge of colours. The things which you require, are so much beyond all your senses, as it being born without eyes, you would know the difference between black and white; whilest in the first principles you do not know what the meaning of this act is, significi­ed by this word Colour. And the impossibilities of conceiving it in you, proceeds as much from the defect of your nature, as from that of mine, who am not able to give it you to understand: for though I at the present comprehend mine own proper essence in a more per­sect manner then when I lived; yet there is much wanting in that apprehension: for otherwise there would be some Analogy (which can not be) between the knowledge of my self, and the act by which God knows himself. As concerning the contradictions which you al­ledge, they would be such, if the spiritual essences had that commu­nion with the senses, which they have not. That I will have you, and do not know whether I will have you or no, is not because that first motion which sprung up in me, separated from the body, was not free and cleare; but because being now joyned, I do find my self to be participant of the defects thereof, a thing which I did not ex­pect, falsely supposing that an accidentall conjunction, besides the providence of nature, would not restore me to that first naturall ig­norance, into which I perceive my self to be fallen: so that my pre­sent understanding is not of a separated, but of a conjunct spirit, and subject to the defects of this union, which prompts unto me such doubts as I had not before. And as the severed soul doth not appre­hend your businesse with a new understanding, but by the benefit of memory; so being incorporated, it cannot understand but only in that manner as is proper to this conjunction, and loseth in the laying down of its first habit, that first perfection which was proper to that first habit. But let not these these things trouble you, (my Lord) they happen not but by Gods extraordinary disposition. They are not to be seen but in me onely at this present; wherefore to frame thereon an undoubted conception, would be dangerous. A humane way of Philosophating, is too weak and lowly, to climb up to such a height: Almadero was now more confused then at first; these reasons giving him no satisfaction: for to believe that ablessed soul should in its operations be ignorant of Gods will, he thought to be, both an absurd and impious opinion, and suddainly entered into his thoughts a doubt, whether Liarta were one of the blessed; or rather come to deceive him: which much troubling him, he replyed, Ma­dam, I confesse I now understand you lesse then I did at first: either your resolution towards my person, is good or bad. If it be good, it [Page 103]cannot be contrary to heavens will, neither do humane senses debar any one of such a knowledge. If it be bad, evill hath no compati­bility with blessed spirits: every one believes them to be free from all uncertainties, and false opinions, and that their will being regula­ted, makes them aliene from applying themselves to such actions, as do not belong to them. Things which you cannot be ignorant of, if you be of the blessed ones. Liarta presently descried his new suspiti­on; and though she inwardly laughed at it, yet seeming to be offend­ed therewith, she said; You are mightily mistaken (Almadero) if ha­ving alwaies in this world found me just, and a teller of truths, you will now imagine me to be in the other a lyer, and one of the damned. I do not know my self guilty (to my knowledge) of de­serving eternall punishment by any greater sinne, then by idolizing you, and equalizing you in a manner in adoration and love to the Gods. I speak it not to reproach my love to you, but you for the in­jury you do me. Seeing I now loving you more then ever I did, you pretend me to be come hither, to damn you with me: as if the dam­ned souls did in the Abyss retain the comfortable affections of a legi­timate love, and feel such a delight therein, as I did to the very in­stant of your present ingratitude. With that she hastily turned about, making as though she would creep back again into her Grave. The order she had formerly given Almadero to not touch her, could not retain him from taking hold of the skirt of her Coat, and saying to her: Madam, the tears I shed for you at your death, and my tedious mournings since, might beg some excuse for mine ignorance, and of you not to be so penurious of your presence to me, as you threaten you will: otherwise what shall I think, but that you angry at my remaining alive after your death, will have me die now, not through any desire you have of my company, but rather in revenge, because I came no sooner to you: and having no visible steel weapons (being a spirit) you seek to kill me with invisible armes of griefe? Is such a cruelty conformable to a blessed soul? I will with good will die, but I beseech you let it not be, to live afterwards eternally in such jars. Liarta stopped there, desiring not to proceed any further, and clear­ing up her countenance as appeased, she answered him, No my belo­ved espouse, none of these things shall be, Heaven is no place for ran­cours, and mine though they seem to be such, are not so: neither am I cruell to you, nor you to me, nor will I have you die: Not die, said Almadero? it is impossible: for if living be forbidden me by your not living, you being dead, it must of necessity be lawfull for me to die. And though you by repenting alter your resolution, yet will not I re­fuse the purchasing of an everlasting pleasant life, by means of mo­mentary despicable death. Liarta was come to the same passe as those Architects are, who having laid the foundation of a great Vault, meet in the practise of the closing it up, with such difficulties as the specu­lative theorick had not before put into their mind. She knew not how to conclude her discourses with Almadero: who though he was of a mild humour, yet was no way inclining to folly or simplicity▪ He would [Page 104]not yet have suffered himself to have been wrought to so much cre­dulity, if his dreams had not altered his understanding. She would have made him believe, that she might live again, that her carcase had been preserved in certain Mountains under the equinoctiall, in so proportionable a scituation, that neither the repercussion of the Solar beams from the earth, nor the coldnesse of the air could corrupt her. That the temperament alone had maintained it in the being in which it was at that time, having obtained means to revive it with the same soul, which was the year before departed out of it.

But having lost her self in these Fables, Almadero's understanding was cleared, and he plainly perceived this to be his true corporeall Liarta: though not in that manner as she described it. Wherefore hearkning to her a little while (for long it was impossible) and help­ing her in relation, in that wherein lyars are commonly failing, ob­jecting the frequent contradictions to her which oftentimes met in so many lies, she was at last forced to disclose her self, and suddenly casting her armes about his neck, shedding tears of tendernesse, she said unto him, Behold here I am (my Lord) alive, since you will not believe me dead. And if heretofore I could not die, being depri­ved of you, and daily wounded by hard oppositions of adverse for­tune; much lesse shall I die now, being vivified by your happy pre­sence, and the spirits of that true love, which heretofore reputed in­constant, proves now beyond all expectation most firm and loyall. Almadero (as I said before) did conceive Liarta to be alive; and if he could have penetrated into the manner how that came to passe, it had not lain in his power to have retained the least scruple of his former false impression: but now perceiving the business plainly (as if he had been in an instant raised from the dead) enterchangeably em­bracing her, Do you then (said he) so cruelly purpose to revenge your wrongs my dearest Lady? Is that true which you tell me, or do you yet in pastime equivocate? are you my true Liarta or not? But she giving him no answer, onely bedewing him with tears, and smo­thering him with kisses, went on and said, Let these armes kill me, and this soul vivifie me, if thou yet breathest, O thou long lamented love, Kisse and kill, kisse and revive, for both are indifferently plea­sing: either to live or die. Radimiro and Dorilla stood all the while within the house, where they might easily behold the actions, and hear the discourses of the two lovers, prepared to come forth according as they had agreed. Now they thought their Mistrisse having disclo­sed her self, it was no longer time to delay: Wherefore presenting themselves before the King, their unexpected sight was the demon­strative argument of the truth: the cleernesse whereof had till that time been shaddowed by the darknesse of so many confusions. The King presently left Liarta laying aside all majestick statelinesse em­braced their both, kissing Dorilla. Fhilarchus seeing the appearance of these two new persons, feared no spirits, but leaping into the Church­yard, ran to kisse the King and Queens hand. The Priest came out on the other side. The King would have been resolved at the same time, [Page 105]and in the same place how all those things had come about, but be­ing advised by Philarchus, he deferred it till more conveniency. Liar­ta admitting every one to kisse her hand: Leuciana seemed to be all on fire, so many bonfires were kindled; some for joy spared not their own bedsteads. To relate what they said to one another after they were come home, is a subject fitter for a discreet imagination, then for a pen. Let us then leave them, and return to the City whither Lao­domia calls us.

This good Lady, endeavoured whilst the Prince of Feacia lived, a a weak sick and decrepit husband, to passe away her time the best she could: Restoring the infection her own youth received, by her hus­bands decrepitnesse, with the help of persons of younger age, incli­ned to any man but to her own lawfull spouse. Those as related the History of her actions, described her to be framed of repugnant affections. Lascivious, and disinamoured, malicious, and foolish, un­boundedly impudent, yet subject to blushing. She tried people of all degrees and conditions for her lust, driven thereunto by her hot inclination. For she could not meet with persons of her own quality in Feacia nor Ericusa, unlesse it were by chance of passage. The evill would not have been ascribed to her for so great a fault, if her allure­ments used for the satisfying of her desires had been no other, but grace, noblenesse and merit. The two which were by her worthily beloved we already know. The one Feredo, by her not enjoyed. The other Almadero who became her husband. There were two more, and besides them there was not any one of quality that possessed her beauty. There lieth over against the Iland of Feacia, Epirus a warlike Kingdom, possessed by a warlike King, the Father of many children: amongst which it happened that Raico the second being gone to in­vite the Prince to his wedding, as being his near Kinsman (for Feacia was a member of the Kingdom of Epirus given in portion to a second brother, Father to this Prince) fell in love with Laodomia, in such sort, that being young and very respectfull, he fell sick upon it; and cured by his hostesses piety, she being a very clear-sighted Physician, and learned in the cure of love-diseases. But their delights being in­terrupted by his Fathers commands, which recalled him home, this affection remained so deeply rooted in his mind, that he thought (as second brother) hearing of the Princes death, to demand to be in vested Prince of the Iland, and espouse Laodomia, before he knew another had gotten her from him. But when he heard it, he was so enraged at it, that he was once resolved to have taken her away; rapes being very customary in the Eastern Countries; if the King having had notice thereof, had not caused him to be stayed till she was gone. By which discreet advisement he being crossed in the performance of that, which he must unadvisedly and rashly had resolved to do, ha­ving obtained his liberty again, he ravingly resolved upon another desperate course. To go into Lusitania there to see her, and take her away from thence: his rash youthfulnesse, representing his own me­rits to himself to be greater then Almadero's: not considering that vo­luptuous [Page 106]love terminates in the act of terminate pleasure, especially in women, and chiefest of all in such a woman as Laodomia; yet this his design contrary to all these reasons came to a good issue, though by another way which he little dreamed of. For taking a faithful Squire along with him, he went away secretly, without acquainting his Fa­ther or any one else whither he went; and arrived into Lusitania a lit­tle after Almadero was come there, before ever his fresh passions for Liarta began to revive in him. So that seeing Laodomia seated happily in her Royalty, he was put quite out of all hopes. She being forced to apply & incline her self, (if one may so speak of her) to the best and comliest Prince on earth. Wherefore it seeming a folle to him to a­spire thereunto, altering his mind, if not his love; he resolved to stay in Lusitania, to feed his eyes, though he could not satisfie his other sen­ces. And judging that if he had frequented the Court in a Cavaleers habit, he should quickly be forced to leave it, being discovered by one or other, heresolved to cloth himselfe like a Hermit, and having setled a habitation, to forget both Father, Country, and himself. Considering therefore the Scituations thereabouts, he resolved upon a place standing along by the River Tagus, near Lancobridge, a Royall habitation, which at that time Almadero had newly bestow­ed upon Laodomia. And having bought the ground, he caused a place of devotion to be built there, with Cells, springs and a garden, all with such symmetry and proportion, that devout persons flocking thither, left behind them, without asking many almes, thinking the Hermit had built this sumptuous fabrick by the help of such pious contributions: which almes therefore he was (though unwilling) constrained to take, the better to colour the present profession he made shew of. Vassilius (for so was the squire called) retained his for­mer habit, that he might the better without any scandall prie into the Queens actions, and observe her when she went abroad to her de­votions: whither Raico also went: this manner of life no way displea­sing to him: for endeavouring to please his Masters will, he unex­pectedly met with a kind of affection, which inclined him to soli­tude, falling in love with gardening, wherein he took such delight, that wheras before he learned it as an art, it now proved a pleasure to him, being so taken with it, that whereas Raico thought on nothing but love, he doated on nothing but his flowers, placing them in such manner, that they were all ordered according to their nature, in shade or sunshine, as each one most delighted. But who would ever have believed that an amorous hypocrisie, should be reduced to an act of a formall devotion, as it was almost in the person of this Prince? I said almost, because if imagination in a ambitious man, hath power to make him believe those honours to be true which he doth but dream of much more may it in a melancholy man make that seem devoti­on, which cannot be such. Raico was so ingulphed in the difficulty of his enterprise, that finding no way how to bring it to passe, he thought to give it over. He imagined (and that not amisse) that the Gods had brought him there to save him. He tried to abstain from [Page 107]seeing of Laodomia, but could not, which was the touchstone to trie the mettal of this his spirit; yet he thought otherwise of himself, so much can self-love prevail in us. He was not ashamed in the Thea­ter of his own conscience to flatter himselfe, and in good earnest to believe himself to be grown spirituall. To draw out a reall sence with pencills of seemingnesse, giving it lights and shadows, not with plain naturall colours, but with a mixture of troubled passions: so that to one who did not well heed him, he seemed to breath nothing but heavenly affections, and heavenly they were, but of that heaven where Venus presided. The report was spread about of the Hermits ho­linesse, and bruited at the Court, his age making him more recom­mendable to the Ladies then to the Knights, and many perceiving in him, besides youth, a kind of manly beauty, were pricked by some spirit more then that of devotion. Laodomia heard the report of it, but heeded it not, her contents in a sumptuous and well-frequented Court, being incapable of such thoughts: But being fallen into dis­gusts, ordinary provocations to raise us from the earrth, she thought upon the visiting of this famous and so much spoken of fabrick: she delayed it not, so soon as she came to Lancobridge. The change of pla­ces, and the variety of objects, having power, if not to take away, at the least to ease oppressed hearts. Raico had already heard the com­mon report of Liarta's being alive, of the Kings passions, of Laodomias disgusts, which like to so many thornes, did rend in peeces his ill ap­plied Garment of Devotion: He was partly ashamed of it himself, that shame proceeding from Vassilius discreet reproofs sometimes used to him. But every one, when once he begins to deceive himself, delights in it: Wherefore having cast himself upon these new hopes, he re­tained no hypocrisie but th'external to deceive others; to observe how things went, and expect till time and fortune should open him a way to carry forward his designs. He took all occasions that were proffered him to bring him to the sight of her: But Alma­dero living in Olisippo, he could never come to be seen of her, he inwardly suffered for the griefs which she endured: neither could he hear any better news, then of Almadero's going to Leuciana, resol­ving to make himself known unto her, and provide for both their occasions. But when he heard she was coming to dwell near him, he doubted not but happily to convert into good, that evill which he before reputed he had unhappily undertaken; she now kept no other company but Priests, held no discourse but of the vanities of the world, of which she held the greatest to trust men, and especi­ally if they were Princes; she had resolved, being angry with the King, to deny him the fellowship of her bed, which he without any cause, had for so many months exiled her from, to give her selfe wholly to a spiritual life, bing distasted of a sensuall one, being ar­rived to the height of all her delights; then having heard a report of the Hermit, she resolved to see him: She went disguised in a private brown habit, with a vail over her face: Raico, who stood in a place where seen by no man, he could see every one that came into the Temples [Page 108]did not know her: But took her for some Lady of the Court, who to follow the Queens humour, did affect grief and devotion, with feigned ostentations. Finding the Temple extraordinarily well kept, she was exceedingly satisfied with it, but examining the particulars, she wondred to see the Gods habited, after the Eastern fashion, TO THE TUTELAR OF LEUCADIA, was the inscription under Apollo's image, which Leucadia was her own Patrimony, and this God was adored in that Island, in a most famous Temple dedica­ted to him, TO THE TUTELAR OF EPIRUS, was written under Pallas, whose image well considered, might by every one be imagined to be made under the likenesse of Laodomia her self, there were they therein deceived, for Raico had caused it to be so car­ved at great charge, by a prime workman in Lusitania. Wherefore no small curiosity being raised within her, she caused the Priest to be called to her, who by her voice, knowing who it was that called for him, was so amazed, that he knew not how to stir. Vassilius did run to do his message, but being constrained to give him time, he was fain to answer, that he would come so soon as he had ended some few prayers. Which delay being but impatiently taken, made her againe look towards her own image, and finding therein her self naturally represented, considering the Gods clothing in her own Country ha­bits, and the names of Leucadia and Epirus, she knew not what to judge of it, and observing in Pallas hand a wreath very richly wrought with Needle-work with the two Letters L. and R. Capitall ones for Lao­domia and Raico, which wreath she had formerly wrought with her own hand, and given him in those days when she enjoyed him; she conceived presently how the truth of the businesse stood, and fixing her eyes upon Vassilius, she presently, so soon as she had but recollect­ed her senses remembred him. The Hermit came, she knew him, her memory calling to mind, the sweet pleasures she had enjoyed with him; his Beard and habit able to change his hair, but not his visage. He had hardly leisure to recollect his spirits, whilest she kneeled the other way, not without scandal (as every one may piously gather) of the assistant invisible spirits, the divinity in outward shew religi­ously venerated in Temples, and inwardly most impiously propha­ned in the hearts. After he was risen, he feigned that he had not known her: he could hardly hypocritically joyn three or four stam­mering words together, enterlacing between them the names of Apol­l and Minerva. The Queen was moved at the sound of that voice: her Phantasie was suddainly possessed with such thoughts, as enter into womens minds, who thinking themselves abused by their Hus­bands, breath nothing but revenge against them. She would, to avoid the danger, make him believe she had not known him, and repented her self that she had sent for him: wherefore she went away saying no more, but that being persecuted by adverse fortune, she recommend­ed her self to his prayers. The other Ladies wondered at it, such a ho­linesse worthy of being expressed more frequently. This suddain de­parture displeased Raico, and if he had believed he had been known, [Page 109]he would have run mad with it. He had seen her contemplate her self in Pallas: he could not believe she had so soon forgotten the wreath which she had wrought with her own hand, and seen in the God­desses, to go away without curiosity of knowing how he had light­ed upon it, or asking the cause why he was so much devoted towards the Tutelars of Epilus and Leucadia. It seemed strange to him, he having a purpose gotten them carved after that similitude: The eb­bing and flowing of judgements, lasted on both sides, till the news of Liarta's return being certainly known, all dissimulation was bani­shed; Raico was known, and the unknown Hermit under his ragged Cloak perceived: Rage and Disdain did so oppresse the Queen, at the first news she heard thereof, that her understanding was total­ly disturbed and troubled. But the first tempest being appeased, she judged she could build her designs upon no man so fittingly, as up­on him: She went to him to his Cell, having no body in her compa­ny but two Grecian Maids, her especiall favourites. She desired to speak to him within his house, without any assistants: the Temple a place of holinesse wholly opposite to rage and fury: Raico wondred to see her before him, without any mask or vail; but she losing no time, in her wrath laying all cunning aside, said unto him, Prince Raico, I cannot believe you are come hither into this Country in habit and profession, so different from your own, unlesse it be for love of me; Seeing divine love, which your external port pretends, ought to perswade you to any other habitation then that where I dwell, howsoever I will know the truth of it: wipe off these tears then, only due to me. The Knight was fallen on his knees before her, with his eyes as abounding with tears, as his mouth was void of words: He wiped them to obey her, he arose, and smothering his rising affections, anfwered her, Madam, That sad coloured habit, which I was resolved, being deprived of you, to wear perpetually else­where, was changed into this ash-coloured one, for an evident sym­bole of the hidden burning of my heart. I came into Lusitania, I blame my self for it, not to serve God, but to do him disservice: Your love not his, was the Quarter-master which appointed me out this lodging: I have plainly told you the truth to obey you; let the love of you be a sufficient excuse, for my being maliciously become an hypoctite so to do: The evill (replyed Laodomia) which hath good successes, deserves to alter its name, but the love of a true af­fection, can falsely cause bad effects: In love all things are becom­ing, to govern ones self evill for his sake, is but to be ruled by reason, he being the compendium and Epitome of all reason that can be found in nature: and if you have offended other Gods, who have at other times been subject to his Darts, you need not much to care, he having power to restore unto you without their help, that which you most desire. And saying thus, laying her hand upon her breast, as pointing to her self, she went on saying: behold, here he bestowes me upon you, if for my love you came into Lusitania. Now shall I see whether your judgement be conformable to that of Paris; chusing [Page 110] Venus, and for her sake neglecting Juno and Pallas. Raico staied for no more words. The embracing and doing homage to her, if it were not both at once, yet were they successive things. And though the action was somewhat voluptuous, yet was it not quite void of false devotion: seeing the rigidnesse and hardnesse of the pressed bed (no mark of the lovers compunction gave him so) gave him some colour of framing such a thing to himself. After she had been thus humbled, you would have taken her to be some Generall, that remained Con­queror after he had given battail. She thought she had sufficiently paid Almadero, making his head to swell. But after (with resting their bodies a while) they had somewhat refreshed their spirits, she brake out into such like speeches. Prince Raico, never did man oblige wo­man as you with comming into this Country have obliged me, and if by my comming I disobliged you, consider that I came hither a Queen, your love being unjustly taken away from me, and unduely bestowed upon the Princesse of Acarnania. Raico would not have let her go for­ward, but would have made known his fidelity unto her; but she who to prevent the objections which might have been made against her for inconstancy, had framed this tale, following her discourse said. Disdains (Raico) are sucessive to loves, and these the purer they be the more subject they are to stains of suspects and jealousies: My lot would have me to believe what was told me, and upon this supposition, reputing my self abandoned, I cast my self down the precipice of this unlucky marriage. I came into Lusitania, I would I had never come: and I would you had been more careful in giving me notice that I should find my self free from an evil which cannot chuse but wound me beyond all measure; But wounds have their plasters.

The King as you know hath discovered his first wife to be alive. What wife said Raico? his wife which had been buried answered she. He knew the History of it but not the successe: you may well ima­gine whither he was well content therewith or no; But seeming to him, that she loving him, he needed not to care for it, he was troubled discovering the contrary; But what marvail was it, if that which he supposed was false? love being as easie to be perswaded in its own na­ture, as they by their nature are inexorable in their hatreds and reven­ges. The deceived Prince did not penetrate into the secret malices of that deceitfull woman, his object being that love which held to be reciprocall was not so; Wherefore wheeling about diverse things in her mind, she found no other remedy but this one, to return without delay into the East: whereupon holding silence a great while, as though she had not liked it; And how shall I go (at last said she) in­jured and unrevenged? But Raico not apprehending any injury, and consequently no cause of revenge, the businesse having happened without any deceipt; having been well used, honored and respected; She was forced at last to lay open her cruell intentions, by vomiting out of these words My condition (Raico) is such, that I can find now no place to receive me amongst mine equalls. Who will esteem mee brought into Lusitania under title of Queen, seeing me driven out [Page 111]thence with so much contempt? who wil believe the death and burial of Liarta, and give credit to her life and return? But say they should believe it. Truth and falshood in my case are equally shamefull? to have been as it were upon a stage acting the personage of a Queen, and as a Concubine to be sent home with disgrace, my temples envi­roned with scornes instead of Crowns: No, by God Mars, I will not unrevenged, I will not (in despight of all the aspects of the Heavens) have a mind so base as to let my patience augment mine injury. Al­madero shall die, I will make him an example to others, to know that my equalls ought to be free not onely from affronts, but even from the least disgusts. Raico felt himself as it were thunderstrook with the sound of these words, conceiving the womans intents. He was asha­med, would not believe her, and remitted his judgment to a more open declaration: which was not long before it was made, it being declared by her she would have Almadero die, and him to be the mur­therer. Oh how his affections were changed! Her beauties which he before so highly esteemed, were by him accompted but meer illusi­on, her face shewed like a piece of painting. Oh how he blushed, how in at winkling of an eye did he see more then ever he did before. He found himself in an instant cleared from all trapps and snares, free from errors, and totally restored to his former judgement, and the further he receded from all blameable thoughts, the more he inclined to good ones, discretion only assisting him in this extream encounter. He had much adoe to frame himself, not to a refusall (for of his own nature he could not approve of such an abominable thing) but even to the hearkning to so horrid a request. He thought to perswade her to alter her design, by shewing her the abomination of the act. But a transcendent wickednesse never attains to its pretended end till it comes to that height, that no punishment can be invented to equall it. It was in vain for Raico, and impossible to find out any reasons to remove Laodomia from this resolution. For in the losse of his affecti­on he had lost the authority of a lover, as well as he had before in his dishonest acts lost that of Hermit. At last he said, Madam, I was born a Prince, and you the like: you require a thing of me too un­worthy either of us. The King hath not offended you, and I do not see, how as a Knight I can pretend to exact any revenge of him. To murther him basely, as you would have me, I will not, may the Earth open and swallow me first. But if I should be so basely cow­ardly, how will you save your self? care not for me, we will remit the questioning of that to another time. The question now is onely, whe­ther Heaven would be satisfied with my shame and dammage onely. No sure, Heaven should erre in its providence if it did suffer it. I will if you please conduct you into Leucadia presently, if you cannot en­dure the sight of Almadero or Liarta: and if this will not satisfie you, assure your self love never obliged a Knight to any villanous act. She with an inflamed and and angry visage answered, You a Prince? you a Knight? Nature sure erred when she made you such. Cowardly, base, and ingrateful as you are. These abject habits you now wear are [Page 112]fittest for you, not to represent that devotion, which (being feign­ed) doth but deceive the world: but your basenesse, which (being true) doth undeceive me. If ever you dare to gird on sword I will cause it to be taken off again with such shame and dammage, as shall be most fitting for you. I am sorry I have made proud with my fa­vours so unworthy an one. I will do pennance for it, I will forget it, and think the worse of my self for thy sake, whom I esteem the basest wretch on Earth. And thus without expecting any reply, driven by the fury of her perverse thoughts, she went away drawing the door after her because she would not be followed. The damsels seeing her past all bounds of melancholy, entred into a meer fury, knew not what to think of it. She was all that day & the night following without rest, or food: continually revolving in her mind a thousand pernicious resolutions: She would have put them all in practise if she had been as sure of the events, as she was of the malignity of her own will. She knew not to whom to addresse her self, to kill Almadero, she was now resolved Raico should die. She held her self deceived, injuried and vi­lipended by him. She could find no reason sufficient to stay her. No reason durst present it self unto hers, she was so full of infernall vio­lence, having voted her self to hell; she sent at length for Dragante: this was not onely a servant of her, but also a born subject in Leuca­dia, bred up amidst strife, and treacheries, and had been a pleasing in­strument to appease her angry mind causelessely moved, by the dam­mage or murthering of many innocents. Go (said she) to the Her­mitage here by, and find out the Hermit and let him die: and while thou killst him, let him know I sent thee. Thus must lascivious dissembling Hypocrites be punished. I went to receive comfort from the villain, esteeming him to be an holy devout man, and he durst request that of me which is lawfull for none but husbands to do. Go and bring me newes presently that it is done; for you do know I am a gratefull Lady and Mistresse to you. He needed not a more authen­tick mandate. It is a sweet thing to a cruell man to bath himself in blood without any danger. He thought he should find no danger in murthering a peaceable man (for so he thought him) suddenly. And he feared no danger of punishment being commanded by the Queen, the command being just, and the cause honest. But traitors likely, be­ing cowards, he would not go alone. He thought that assaulting a a man, who was esteemed good by the world, he might find some op­position; wherefore taking some along with him, whom she had with her own mouth commanded, he went presently to the Hermitage, and telling him what the Queen had enjoyned him, he desired them to let him alone with the Hermit, and they (in case any peo­ple should come in) should onely suppresse the tumult. No man con­tradicted him, the evill which was to be committed thought too me­ritorious. Raico in the mean time, being remained free from all those passions, which before had blinded his understanding, thought that staying longer in Lsitania might hurt him. Laodomia's conditions be­ing such, that one might thence expect nothing but scandalls. Having [Page 113]told Vassilius what was befallen him now last, as he alwaies imparted all his other secrets to him. He commanded him to provide him with two Horses to be gone presently, a resolution which the good Squire had long looked for; who being gone out for that purpose, could not come home till late at night, at which time he had provided two stout ones. Raico had kept his Armes all this while in a press, and having re­newed them, expected day, the time seeming long to him, till he could forsake his pretences, and together with the Country, the habit wherein he had till that time corruptly lived. But the difficulties which usually happen upon suchunexpected voyages did hinder him, being forced to furnish himself with many things, and Vassilius not returning till noon. Being come, and having set the Horses in a Court neer that place, he began to arme him, and having put on his Corse­let, going to put on his — some body knocked at the door: And be­ing that time at which devout persons did use to send them refresh­ment: it being fitting to open doors, he put on his Hermits Gown over his Corslet, and whilest Vassilius laid up the — he opened the door himself, never asking who it was that knocked. Dragante seeing there was no body in the Church, drew his dagger, (telling him, the Queen chatisted him for his rashnesse, by that stab she sent him) stab­bed at him with such force, that he had like to have fallen backward, so that his Corslet saved his life. Dragante thought he had strook against hard Marble, and not knowing the reason of it, superstition did so daunt him, that Raico had time to recover, and going to close with him to take his dagger from him, the other discovering his armour, and finding that it was not by miracle (as he believed) that he had not wounded him, he run him through the arme with a second stab, and lowring his dagger to thrust it into his unarmed side, Raico threw him down under him, holding his dagger hand fast Vassilius had up­on the first stab opened the presse again, and having taken out thence sword and buckler, was hastning to kill the villain, but his companions drawing their swords, constrained him to turn towards them. Raico in the mean time, having with little labour taken away his Enemies dagger thrust it in his throat, and seeing he dyed not with that, made an end of him, thrusting it up to the hilts into his heart, and taking his sword, he went out to aid Vassilius. The Epirotes are ordinarily warlike people, and Raico, who was very valorous, had in an instant with ease, dispatched two of the four which assaulted them, and had done the like with the other two, if the glistering of the swords had not given warning to those who were within sight of the place, who running thither, wondring to find the Hermit with a sword in his hand, and three dead bodies at his feet. They would at first have parted the fray, but being accused for having lasciviously solicited the Queen, they were in such manner scan­dalized at the matter, that they all fell upon him, and he was for­ced after he had long resisted to yeeld himself to the turbelant mul­titude which threw stones at him every way; and being grown to a great number, over-pressed him: there being added to his unknown [Page 114]fact, this last apparent one, of having slain so many men. The inno­cent Hermitage was strictly searched, and there being armes, horses, jewels, and no small store of money found there; how could one judge well of him, being clothed with such a habit? Vassisius grived extreamly to see him in such a case, bleeding on every side, espe­cially about the head, which he was partly cause of himself, having refused a buckler which he had severall times proffered him. He had a long time defended him with it from many blows: But to safeguard him from the tempest of stones which showred on him every way, would have required a vaster largenesse. He could not endure to see him tyed, he would have told who he was; but Raico would not suf­fer it, but imposed him silence. There came already to the shore of the River Tagus, many little Boats and Passengers which went and came from Olisippus, who forsaking the high-way which was nor far di­stant from thence, came to the tumult, and among them were many Knights, to whom the Hermits fault seemed unlikely to be true: For if it were so, why should they seek to take away his life by the hands of five murtherers, whilest they might without any such scandalous means, be punished by way of justice. Silence had force in him, ra­ther to confirm, then confute this conceipt, attributing that to excel­lence of perfection, which was the excellency of a most perfect mind. On the other side, the armes and horses, the Jewels and Mony, ac­coutrements not of peace nor poverty, but things rather belonging to a man of a contrary profession, confounded mens judgements. Others who were quicker sented, smelt out the businesse just as it was: they examined that presence too noble, for such a poor habit, and together with that his youth, beauty, valour, wealth, and the Queens present disgusts: her going to him alone to his Gell, where for con­veniency, at least there ought to have been some of her maids pre­sent. The little likely-hood that any man, much lesse a religious man, should dare to desire such a thing at her hands: and grant it should be so, no woman would be so severe, or austere, to make such a stir about it. Wherefore having sought to put him to death unheard, was likelier to be, because she having desired some dishonest thing at his hands, was by him denyed to perform it. There were sent together with one of the five which remained alive, some others to Lancobridge, which was not above three bow-shoots from the place, to know of the Queen, what was her pleasure should be done with the prisoner: news which was more troublesome to her then Liarta's return: where­fore misdoubting her own wicked facts, would be made manifest by Raicos deposition, it was convenient for her to be rid of him, nei­ther knew she which way; at the last dissembling her fears, she feign­ed her self transported by excessiverage, such as never had possibly any place amidst fear, and called out toward her Knights: Will you endure me, said she, then to be thus dishonoured, and suffer the Tray­tors to live before my face in despight of me: Go I command you, and do not let them live: I shall by this, see who among you will make [Page 115]most hast in purchasing my favour: and turning towards the mes­sengers which were sent to her, she said, Tell them who sent you, that my pleasure is they should die presently: that I will have this justice done, seeing the injury was done to my Royall person. This command seemed harsh to the Grecians, and to the Lusitanians most cruel. The Messengers being returned to the Hermitage, caused much whispering, especially amongst the Knights. They conceived that the Prisoners being put in prison, ought by way of justice to be tri­ed for their offences, if they had committed any: The Courtiers in the mean time were arming themselves, disposed, though unwilling­ly to obey their Mistresses command. Now whilst they were ex­pecting some strange event in this businesse, behold, there came in a Knight, armed with exceeding rich sumptuous armes, which made shew of so free and bold a courage, that the enviousest eye in the world wold have been delighted in the sight of him. He had two Squi­ers, and a Damsel with him; and seeing such a multitude of people, he had a great desire to know what the cause was. One could not perfectly discover Raico's face it was so bloody; but seeing Vassilius stand with tears issuing from his eyes, beseeching the standers by, that he might be permitted to dress the Hermit: the Knight seemed to be somewhat troubled at it, and calling the Damsell to him, he whis­pered somewhat in her ear, pointing at Vassilius, whereupon she growing pale, the tears gushed presently forth of her eyes, and were again as suddainly stopped, the Knight having given her but a little shake. This act, which was particularly observed by the Knights, made every one wonder: advancing forward then, and a little more seriously looking upon the Hermit, he stood still a while in suspence; and hearing the Queen was the cause of this his evill usage, he shook his head, and lifting up his eyes towards the Courtiers, which cryed as they came, that they should be killed, he said to the Hermit so loud, that every one might hear him. Let not these out-cryes af­fright you Prince Raico; you shall not die, or if you do, I will die with you: and spurring his Horse forward, he went to meet them; and as soon as ever he came near to them, he said, Knights, I pray go no fur­ther, to obey so unjust a command will procure you nothing but pain and repentance. The Princess of Feacia is no longer Queen in Lusitania; Queen Liarta being alive, and returned. But suppose she were, where is it permitted to Queens to put men to death without any form of justice. Let the Prisoners be put into the Magistrates hands, and if they be found culpable, let them be punished. These reasons liked the Knights very well, neither were they displeasing to the common people; when the boldest among the Grecians answered: And who are you, you unadvised fellow, that dare pronounce sentence concer­ning the Queens marriage? Will you be so mad as to oppose your self against her commands? We have order to kill them presently, and if you contradict us, we will do the same by you. They shall live (answered the strange Knight) and I with them to your shame: and you only base Traytors shall die by this hand; and turning to the Knights [Page 116]who followed him; he prayed them not to meddle with the fight, but to leave it to him alone: this was not their intention, being all resolved to not see the Prisoners wronged, yet they obeyed him, rather to see whether the effects were correspondent to so much confidence, then because they judged him such as to have no need of them. The threatning and assaulting of them with his sword in his hand, though divers things were in an instant performed: The gentleness which ap­peared in his externall, altered in aspect, and in an instant became fierceness and terror: His beautiful and rich armes, were in small time all besmeared with blood and brains: he never strook stroke but he kill'd, he never kill'd, but he dismembred: his Steed obedient to his hand, emulating as it were his Master, past and repast amongst them like swift lightning. Never did Engine so easily over-throw a tottering and ill-founded Tower, as he over threw men and horses. You would have judged him by the champing of his Bic an enraged Mastiffe: by his kicking, a new, but more untamed Bucephalus. The Knights well perceived they should have nothing else to do, but to behold his Prowesses, neither could they behold them without ad­miration. He maimed and cut in pieces as many men and horses, as he stroke blows: It is written for a wonder, that Ailas bore up the Heaven, but it was a greater wonder to see the earth bear such a War­tior. None of all these went forward to kill the Prisoners, for they all lay slain in the place, and if one escaped with the sad news to Laodomia, there was never race run so swift, as he flew to the unfor­tunate Palace, thinking himself happy, he only had fortune to escape out of the general Massacre: Vassilius whilst they fought, knew the Damsell, who without speaking a word, stood by him; neither should he have thought of looking upon her, if the Knights words, who called his master by his name, had not awakned him: whereupon re­joycing, gentle Darice (said he in the Greek tongue) what pittifull God hath hath brought you hither at this time, in such an extremity to save the Prince, my Masters life and honour? make your selfe known unto him, I pray you, loe where he is, his face all besmeared with blood, his Clothes torn, his body wounded, and bound like a wild beast. The Damsell was so overcome with compassion, that she had neither power to answer, nor yet to obey him: When Raico hear­ing that name, though he were attentive beholding of the Knights prowesse, turning about knew her, and astonisht too see so unlook'd for a sight, said, I have no leisure Darice to testifie unto you, how joy­ful I am to see you here, since the obligation by which I am obliged to that most valiant Warrior, makes me desirous to know him, since he knoweth me, tell me I pray you who it is; She bowing her self down upon the Horse neck, answered him, My Lord, Time will not permit to rehearse how much I am grieved to find you in this e­state, and if I were not certain that the end of this skirmish, will be the period of your imprisonment, I should die with griefe. As for that Knight, I beseech you to pardon me if I conceal his name, for I am commanded so to do, and if I should tell you it, I know not [Page 117]whether it would be pleasing unto you. Raico was confounded with these lost words: though silence (in his conceipt) told him that name which she pretended to hide from him, but being unwilling to presse upon her too much, casting his eyes upon the Squires, he presently cal­ed them to mind both, whilest she with a weeping tone desired him to suffer her to dresse his hurts. He like one that esteemed not the im­minent dangers, answered with a smile, Saying, seemeth it unto you Darice, that I am in case to receive this courtesie at your hands, you must ask those who keep me, leave, and these bonds which bind me. But where is the Princesse of Acarnania my Lady? how doth she? Happy, I, if I had not to my great confusion been so ingratefull to her, but I am justly punished for it. She being satisfied with these last words, said unto him, My Lady, Sir, is as well as that Knight whom you see fighting for you, from him you shal have more particular news he being come to you from her. Raico was much confounded at these words, and thinking he was deceived concerning that Knight, he im­agined he was come to challenge him and fight with him at her re­quest; On the other side, knowing her to be most valiant, and in martiall affairs farre from employing any others for her, he knew not what to think. In the mean time the battell was reduced to termes of a certain victory on the Knight's side, with so much amazement to the beholder, that every one judged it impossible that a squadron of armed men could have performed that which he alone had done And being remained but one of ten, who recommended his life to the fleetnesse of a swift horse, he returned to the rest, by whom he was received with such honour as his singular vertue was singularly well worthy of. And coming amongst them who applauded him for be­ing as courteous there, as he had been terrible amongst his enemies, being come to the place where Raico was, he said unto them; Gentle­men, I have undertaken to defend this Knight, not upon terms of vi­olence, but of reason, He is not what he seems by his habit, but a great Prince. I think I displease him by telling it, but it is requisite I should do it He is but too well known to Laodomia, and Lusitania is not the first of their acquaintance. Yet that which she at this present layeth to his charge is meer malignity and calumnie. Will you be pleased to deliver him into my hands that I may see him cured. I will be surety for him, and present him before Justice, whensoever it shal cal for him. If his case be to be debated by the rigour of Law, he shall not want reasons on his behalf. If by armes, he shall be his own Champion, his sword being the best in the East. I do not speak it to spare mine own, but because I would not do him wrong: and if his health will not permit him. I will adventure my self against any one that shall accuse him. Having thus said, he staid expecting an answer. The Knights looking one upon another, no particular man daring to make any resolution of himself, drew together with some of the chief of the multitude, and there resolved to give such a Knight satisfacti­on. That the reputed Hermite, had been made prisoner tumultuari­ly, [Page 118]without the authority of any magistrate, and if he had killed any, it was lawfull for him to do it, in his own defence. That the Lawes of Lusitania did not oblige them to retain malefactors, such a thing belonging onely to Sergeants and other like officers. The prisoners therefore being loosed, Raico was dressed in the Hermitage by the damsel, there being no wound of any danger found about him, and be­ing provided with a convenient boat, they were embarqued together with some others with the Knight, who would go along with them to get them good lodgings, being strangers and people of worth. Raico used all manner of thankfulnesse (not omitting any kind of generous humiliation) towards his defender, yet could not obtain of him to see him without an helmet, or know who he was. Being arrived to Olisippo, they were placed in two severall lodgings, after the Hermits jewells, armes, and horses were restored to him, and there for a short time we will leave them.

Liarta having reposed some daies with her Almadero: the concourse of Nobility which came to kisse their hands was so great in Leuciana, that the smallnesse of the place being not able to entertain them, they were forced to think on removing to Caurio, a City scituate between the River Tagus, and the Mount of Venus, and on that side which was fittest for the convenient sojourning and abode of a great Court. They had gone directly to Olisippo, if the means of taking leave of La­odomia had not a little troubled them. The King had written to her di­verse times, and sent diverse messengers, but all in vain. He had kept diverse Counsells about it, and there was resolved an ambassage of six of the chiefest, who being arrived to Lancobridge were somewhat scandalized at the Hermits businesse; believing the businesse to be rather according as truly it was, then according to the false rumor which Laodomia had raised. Notwithstanding this did not hinder them from doing that wherefore they were come. Having given no­tice of their arrivall, and that they had order to confer with her in a publick place touching some businesse of importance, they were referred to the next day. Their embassage was already known by some advices come from Court, neither was there any Knight in O­lisippo or thereabouts, nor much lesse any stranger, but came thither, desirous to here what would be said there, so that the next morning the great Hall was so full of people, that the Ambassadors had much adoe to reach to the cloth of state, under which the Queen leaning a­gainst a chair expected them. After they had made her a low congee; But without kneeling as they were wont formerly to do, he that had order to speak to her, after a short and well fitted exordium related to her; That Liarta their antient Queen being come again, they had order to give her notice of it; the King praying her to prepare her self for her return into Leucadia, or where she best liked. For since Hea­ven was not pleased to have the marriage betwixt them to last any longer, it would please to grant them in stead of that a perpetuall friendship not subject to divorces, such an one his Majestie proffered [Page 119]under name of her Knight while his life should last. That the Fleet should shortly be ready to reconduct her: that she should in the mean while bethink her wherein his Majesty might do her any service, see­ing she should still keep the possession of the same authority she had, till that time had in that Kingdom. That in token of their former conjugall bonds, he bestowed on her all those domains which for­merly belonged to Queen Liarta's Father, and with them the Title of Queen, to enjoy the profits thereof during her life, and dispose of all the offices within them, and of the Government thereof. And if she desired to have her departure solemnized by any publick demon­strations, the King would not spare any kind of honour: he would come himself in person to see her embarqued, and give her such an affectionate adue, as could be given by any well affected friend, if not, she should her self prescribe in what manner it should be. He onely gave her notice, that her departure would defer the coming of Queen Liarta, not because she would not willingly see her, but because she, feared the sight of her might be troublesome to her. Laodomia heard them with an impatient sufferance. She turned her self every way, without finding any object to satisfie her; She looked upon them by intervalls with angry and watery eyes. She changed, with the di­versity of passions which altered in her by turns, even the very lineaments of her face. She grew pale, she sweat, she trembled: utte­ring no signes, but of an enraged and troubled mind. She would no longer, through anger, stand upright, but sate down, and supplying the unfortunate failing of her judgement, in well resolving, with the happinesse of a faithfull memory in answering of all these particular articles; She spake in this wise, I know that Liarta is come into Lusi­tania: but I see no reason why her comming should cause my depar­tur. The King if he be just ought to lessen, not increase injuries upon those who receive them: his deceased Father, denying him to have Liarta to be his wife, knew wherefore he did so. Clandestine and lustfull meetings were never by any good lawes allowed for lawfull marria­ages. Liarta is not his wife, I am: If any one of you know she is his wife, he must likewise know, where the marriage was contracted, where the wedding was celebrated, and what witnesses were present. As for my part, I can affirm, and there is none of you that are ignorant of it, how I was fetched from Ericusa, publickly espoused, solemnly brought hither, and crowned with generall applause. To reward me with proffers of domains and vanities of Titles, are not things to be propounded to a Soveraign Princesse born as I am. And I being un­willing to live a widdow, seeing my youth, and my subjects interests will not permit it, what recompence can be given me if I cannot find a husband conformable to my condition, as questionlesse I shall not, bearing that mark of shame which I here receive? Lost honour can­not be restored, nor have out of it self, any thing to countervalew it; it is a ponderous and weighty thing, which not small rewards, nay, nor great ones can encounterpoise It is thought a great favour to per­mit me the title of Queen, neither is it regarded that nothing is offe­red [Page 120]me but what cannot be taken away from me, that which death it self cannot deprive me of. A Queen I am, and a Queen I shall be so long as the world lasts, and so long as the memory of my name shall last to posterity or in histories. The friendship which the King pre­sents to me is due to me conjoined, and not divorced, neither is it suffi­cient for him to professe himself my Knight, if he deny to be my hus­band. If Liarta will not come till I be gone, she never is like to come, and if she thinks her sight will offend me, she does not think amisse. The worst consciences are sometimes accidentally good, as now hers is, not to clear her of her dishonesty, but to shew it her, that her ob­stinacie may render her inexcusable. What will the world say when it shall know, that the favours shewen by the King and others to a concubine, have emboldened a false and a counterfet Hermit so far as to attempt Laodomia his wives honesty, and kill her servants before the eyes of the people, without scandall or punishment? Has Liarta roved all the East over, and having with her person satisfied Coralbo Prince of Arabia, doth shre return into Lusitania to re­ceive the Crownfor her reward? I confesse she deserves it, be­ing a fit Queen for such subjects, who would perswade me to such di shonest things. She would have said more, but she was hindred by a Knights comming, who making his way through the throng, cried out he must be heard, and so made her stop, won­dring that any one durst to interrupt her. The Ambassadours thought to have chid him, but he being come up to the place where they were, was in such rich armour, and had so brave an aspect, and so full of authority, that they would say nothing to him. He looking upon Laodomia, and wondring to find her so much altered from what she was, when he saw her in Ericusa, he said thus, I am the Banish't La­dy, daughter of Polimero, and Eromena Princess of Sardinia. Coralbo Prince of Arabia is mine acquaintance and friend. Queen Liarta is re­puted so good, that I should do very ill to esteem that good opinion which all the world hath of her to be otherwise then true. And were it otherwise, honesty (O Laodomia) should teach you that businesse of this nature ought to be more modest. That which I pretend is to maintain your accusation to be an open calumnie. That Liarta was alwaies, and is chast, and that Coralbo accompanied her to serve her, and not to defame her: here is my gage. And having thus said, she threw down her glove. Whilst she yet spake; there was a Knight drew near her, whose grace and comlinesse was so remarkable, that it drew every ones eyes towards him, especially Laodomia's; who astonished at this unlook'd for challenge, thought he was advanced to under­take the battell for her. The Banish'd Lady had scarce done speaking, when the Knight kneeling to her suddenly, kissed her bare hand, and giving her many thanks for so speciall a favour: besought her to suffer him (seeing he was present) to defend his own cause. The warrier­resse remained in suspence, far from imagining who it was, but re­membring the accent of his speech, she joyfully answered, she was [Page 121]content, seeing his honour, which she intended to be jealous of, did require it: he humbling himself again to her, the occasion and place affording him no longer time of Complements, advanced towards Laodomia, saying; I am sorry Princess of Feacia, that you are a wo­man, and that I being a servant to this sex, am forbidden to use such tearms to you as I should, were you a man: Yet is it not lawfull for you to calumniate a Lady far better then your self, and an innocent Knight without reproof. I am that Coralbo whom you falsely accuse: Queen Liarta I never knew, but to commiserate her disasters, and pit­ty her griefs. That which you alledge to the contrary, if it be not your own invention (as I believe it is not) it was a wicked malice in him who made you believe it. If he be a base fellow, that shall not prejudice him, let him have the priviledge of a man without excep­tion; I will subject my self to the laws; I will produce witnesses, that when I first knew Liarta, I took her to be a Knight, that upon this supposition I kept company with her, that our meeting was up­on the Sea, in the sight of the Marriners and Squires, and was never alone with her. If he be a Knight, he is an unworthy one, here is my gage (which saying, he threw a Glove before the Ambassadors) I will prove him alyer, and put him to death. These last words were no sooner spoken, but a Knight who stood not far from him, stooped and took up the Glove, and holding it up in an affected and ridicu­lous manner, said, the author of this truth is not far off. I the Lord of Ithaca am he that spake it, he who with the point of his sword will drive the lie back from whence it came, we are in armes already: and withall he lowred his Vizard, which only was raised up (as those of all the unknown Knights were) he laid his hand on his sword. Co­ralbo drew his also, though it seemed very impertinent to him to fight in that place where they could not weild their swords without dan­ger to the standers by: Laodamia who was much refreshed at the un­looked for appearance of this new Champion, commanded them to delay the fight, and so did the Ambassdors, when loe there appeared a fourth Knight: It was no hard matter to know him, for it was he, who in defence of the Hermit, had made such a slaughter of Laodo­mia's servant; who in a Majestick and decent manner, standing be­tween them two, said, this is no place to debate or combat, but a place to agree quarrels, I pray forbear: and turning her face towards the Chair of state, she said with a loud voice, so that every one might very plainly understand her.

I (O Laodomia) am the Princess of Acarnania; thou know'st what tricks thou hast played me, so thou knowest likewise, thou canst not dissemble with me, because I know thee two well If thou hast such another (for better thou canst not have) then this thine, and my neighbour of Ithaca, to oppose unto me, do it: then turning towards the Ambassadours, she proceeded. She that will here be esteemed a new Penelope, whilst old Lamia was not more prostitute then she, en­deavours to make us believe she was dishonestly solicited by the Her­mit upon the River of Tagus. The Hermit is Raico, the King of Epirus [Page 122]his Son, who having lost himself in the love of this Adulteress, and having enjoyed her before e're King Almadero came to Ericusa, came hither unknown to his Father, drawn by the enchantments of her lascivious dalliances, and clothed himself in this habit: She was in his Cell to visit him, and stayed with him alone, under pretence of re­ceiving comfort from him in her present deserved afflictions, which might far more conveniently have been done in the presence of some of her Damsels, who might very well have been ear-witnesses of these their pretended spiritual discourses. We need not doubt but Prince Raico alone may inform us of the truth, but he being so generous a Knight, I dare assure my self, that since he believes it lawfull for him to defend her innocency by way of armes, he will not think it fit to accuse a woman of so much dishonesty, though she be his Capital enemy: I therefore who know them both, will maintain Laodomia speaks false, here is my Glove. Laodomia hearing the Princess of Acarnanias name, and seeing her present, had like to have fainted: she presently reputed her self lost, if not dead: all her hopes she had before gathered together with her cunning, and treacheries being now dispersed, knowing she had a Register of her dishonest actions now by her, and no place left for denyals or excuses: and finding her self not only pricked, but wounded by the edge of a truc-telling Tongue, an unspotted maiden, a warlike Princess, who was both her Rivall and enemy. If she did not die, it was divine mercy that reserved her for repentance: then casting her languishing eyes about, which in silence begged for relief of the standers by, nor seeing any one stir in her behalf, contrary-wise all to be very wel contented with what was said of her; she thought to follow the custome of nature, and make fear to produce boldness, and dishonesty, right, being sure that if she were overcome every way else, yet she would conquer every one in shameless impudency: But the Lord of Ithaca, who be­ing of Ulysses Genealogy, was Heir of his malice and cunning, his pru­dence and valour being inherited by his other Brothers, was a great while in doubt, whether he should say any thing or no; seeing the battel he had already undertaken against Coralbo, might free him from it. But being in particular offended by the Princess of Acar­nania, and no body appearing for Laodomia, he was forced to answer her: No mean resolution of virtue (if virtue it were) to smother the inward fear he had of the Princess being by it overcome. The laws of honesty (said he) which indifferently oblige both men and women, ought with the same indifferency bind women with a double tie; these have you at the present broken O Princess of Acarnania. The chastity of Queen Laodomia, hath all the East for witness; your calumnies none but your self: if you were in place where adultery is not proved without the deposition of two at least, that have pun­ctually at the same time seen the act, you would be mightily troubled, nor would your being famous in armes, free you from punishment. If what you say were true, the Prince of Epirus needed not to have disguised himself to enjoy her love, all is false, they are all lies: and [Page 123]if this Knight, with whom I have already passed my word to fight? will give me leave, I will take up your gage, that you may not have neither a better, nor one like to me, but me my self to chastise you. I find my self (answered the Princess with a scornfull smile) so much chastised, that I can endure no greater punishment by suffering your impudent shamelesseness. If you did know those lawes of honesty which you so master-like do teach us, you should know two things, which being ignorant of, you ought to learn of us. The first is, to make use of your own reasons, if you have any, without objecting to others invented guilts. Recrimination being a mark of a guilty and cauterized conscience. The second, that not he who answers and justi­fies himself, but he who impudently calumniates, and falsly accuses, is the breaker of these Lawes. You say all the East is witnesse of this womans chastitie? and why not the West? Why not King Almadero, who enjoyed her while her husband lived? Did not the King of Epi­rus keep his son under custody, till this chast woman went from Eri­cusa for fear of some scandall. The East accusing them for their disho­nest conversation? But of your self good my Lord of Ithaca, what think you the East sayth of you and her? as for the Lawes which you alledge to me, if they were of force here, in what case do you think you should be if you were forced to prove that against a most chast Queen and a most noble Prince, that which never was, nor never came to passe in any ones hearing neither in the East nor in the West, but is onely now bruited by your two dishonest tongues. To you two most worthy couple, the Epitome of the East and West, to you the Ul [...]y [...]s and Penelope of our age it is lawfull to speak what you please without fear of God or man. But let the Lord of Ithaca be pleased to give us leave to ask her; why she once would have bribed my own servants to poyson me, and at another time to send three mur­therers to kill me when I was a hunting? If she be ashamed to tell you, I will not. It was because Prince Raico was appointed to be my husband, which being once come to passe, he should have been for­ced to leave her. And to free him from this bond, she knew no rea­dier way then to ridde me of my life. Laodomia had till then held her tongue fastened to the roof of her mouth, advised by her own evill conscience. But when she saw the Princesse going on in full carriere, to reveale all her shamefull acts, she thought it was time to interrupt her, crying out they were all falshoods and lies. I will make thee con­fesse them (thou impudent strumpet) to be all to thy knowledge, and as she would have gone nearer to her, Ithaca opposed her; There was never enraged Tiger so fierce as the furious warrieresse became at that time, she took the Iron guantlet which lay upon the ground before her, striking him on the mouth with such force that the blood gushed out in abundance. He had by misfortune lifted up his beaver before because he would have his words better heard. Now feeling himself thus evill entreated he lift up his sword which he had rea­dy drawn in his hand, and striking at her head, he cut the latchets wherewith her Helmet was fastned. She feeling it loose (not fearing [Page 124]any second blowes, threw it on the ground, and closing with him took away his sword, and throwing him on the ground, I know not whether with more dexterity or strength, she laid him at her feet, striking him continually with the gauntlet. There was never such a battel seen. The Ambassadors would have taken him out of her hands, but she being enraged, said unto them, I pray let me alone with him, you do not know him as well as I do, this fellow is fit to be used in no other manner, and as he would have gotten from under her, she gave him a kick on the breast, that she tumbled him down again backward, continuing the torment of the gauntlet upon him, till sownding he spit out all his teeth. Then being satisfied, she turned the other way; Laodomia had that morning put on a Royall Crown, think­ing it should serve her for an Idoll of adoration. The first thing the Princesse did, was to take it off her head, and presenting it to the Am­bassadours, she desired them to give it to Queen Liarta, as duely be­longing to her. In the mean time, the coif which held up her hair be­ing unknit fell down to the ground. There was no rigor but was ap­peased at that sight, that aspect made an end of eclipsing Laodomia's beauty. The gelsomine and the white binde which knit up the ver­milion of those beautifull roses, made the white and red which was in her seem a — Her delicat resplendent hair hanging down to her knee, waving up and down in the eye of the mullitude, made those of Laodomia (fallen loose in the pulling off of her Crown) appear as things spoiled with rain and weather. The one was neat in her natu­rall beauty as Heaven had made her; the other in her feigned beauty, more artificious then befitted art it self, to beautifie her. But the beau­ty fullest of colours, being raised at the falling of her hair, manifested that warlike rigidnesse did not take away, but beautifie the best, which so well becomes Virgin-modesty. Wherefore carefully gathe­ring and binding up again her hair about her head, she asked whether any among those which were present there, would undertake that unhappy womans defence? But no man stirring (and the whole Hall being in a deep silencee) she turned to her and said, Laodomia thou seest to what a passe thy continuall evill actions have brought thee Thou art no longer Queen, dally not with thy self Heaven and Earth abhor thee. I am sorry for it. Thou wert a Princesse born. If e­ver thou return to Leucadia I cannot chuse but denounce fire, war and death against thee; a particular punishment due unto thee for the old injuries particularly done to me. As for the publick injuries to which thou oughtest to give satisfaction, two things are required. One to produce the author, or confesse thy self to be autrix of the calumnies raised against the Queen and the Prince of Arabia. The other to tell us the cause which moved thee to desire to have the Hermit killed. If thou confessest thou shalt have pardon, we will procure it thee from her whom thou hast so maliciously offen­ded. Otherwise never hope to escape hence uncondemned. To one that is by fortunes favour grown proud, if she once forsake him, no­thing can be expected but dejection and basenesse: a truth which pro­ved [Page 125]it self infallible in Laodomia; for astonished by such an unexpect­ed accident, she stood a long time without motion, her women and damzells rending their garments, and tearing their hair after a most barbarous manner, calling in vain upon already banished compassion of the standers by. At last being come to her self again, and seeing she was come to that passe that she could not — without precipita­ting; Liarta too grievously offended in her honour. The Princess and Raico, testimonies without exception. The truth — Mercy with­out confession of the fact, an uselesse advocate, with sobbs caused by a most bitter dolour, taking her by the skirt of her garment with a submissive manner, answered her in this manner. Valiant Prncesse, If against reason, I cruelly offended you: justly with as much just cruelty have you revenged yourself; for your particular, it shall be as you please. I will remit Leucadia with my self into your hands. As for the rest I beseech you to take undeserved pitty of one most deservedly unfortunate; and requiring such an extream shame­full pennance of her, to be pleased to accept of it else whereout of the presence of so much company. Hearing these submisse and lamen­table intreaties, the Princesses wrath was appeased, and having rela­ted her desire to the Ambassadours and Princes there present, (after some just debate thereupon) they granted her request. Retiring with her, into one of the innermost rooms: the Lord of Ithaca had been carried out of the hall to Olisippo, to be cured. Other seeing the meeting broken up went out, though they much desired to hear the event of it. Laodomia thanking them for this favour, broke out into such speeches. My Lords, calumnie in innocencie, remaines extin­guished like fire in water. I have defamed this Prince (pointing at Coralbo) with Queen Liarta, not that Ithaca did ever tell me so, though he said he had; But because her self having related to the King, how she had kept company with him upon the Sea, I thought to frame this falshood thereupon, hoping that by raysing some suspicion in his mind, I might alienate him from her. As for Prince Raico I went to see him, having not spoken with him before in Lusi­tania; For though I saw him once before and knew him, yet I did as though I had not known him. That which I request­ed of him was to kill the King, to revenge my self for the divorce which I expected. But he denying to do it, I went angry from him, and under pretence that he had required some dishonesty of me. I en­deavoured to have him slain. This is all which without making any circumstances I can tell you. As for the rest, I confesse I have erred: and as I do not excuse my self, so I do not pretend that my plots ha­ving taken no effect, makes me guiltlesse. I know that not the event, but the deliberation makes the guilt, especially in the person of Prin­ces. I crave pardon of all, and humbly begg, that if any punishment be decreed me, it may not be as this daies publick one was. I am a Princesse, and this favour ought not to be denied to my quality, though I be guilty. If my wickednesses (which trouble my mind more then any punishments can affright me) make me to undergoe [Page 126]for aggravation, the odious scoffs and scornes of a tumultuous multi­tude. I will procure my death with mine own hands. I sought once to have this worthy Princesse of Acarnania poisoned, and that not hitting, I sent three murtherers to kill her, to break off her match with Raico, and enjoy him my self; But the revenge she hath this day taken, is far greater, then if she had killed me a thousand times. The tears which gushed from her eyes as she spoke these words drowned all those words which she intended to speak more. The Princesse would have had the Ambassadours answer her; but they renouncing this honour to her (she having been the instrument of terminating that instantly which they could not have ended but by long and tedi­ous waies) laying aside all her former rigidnesses, sought to comfort her with a wise corrective discourse, saying. That as for the publick disgrace, she ought to complain of none but her self. She having not failed on her side publickly to defame the Queen and the Princes of Arabia and Epirus. And that even this present recantation (which also should have been publick, was by these Princes and Ambassadours by speciall grace, granted her to be in private. That they would for the future think well of her, confession of the fault being a sign of repentance. That as for what belonged to her self, she pardoned all former injuries. And did beseech the Prince of Arabia to do the like, and those Lords to mediate with the King and Queen, to the end that having leave she might depart without having any word spoken of things past Coralbo was not penurious in pardoning what was desired of him, and the Ambassadors promising to procure the like from their Majesties left her, the one returning to the Court, and the o­thers to Olisippo. Liarta receiving the Crown, wondred when she heard the successe, but much more Almadero. For he would never have imagined, that one esteemed by him an Angell in person, would in practise have proved to be such a wicked and black fiend. He sent the same Ambassadors to invite to Court the above named Princes, Liarta desiring to know them and give them thanks: but espe­cially to see Coralbo again, to whom (disdaining all calumnies) she professed her self, duly affectioned. Neither was it forgotten to give strict orders for a Navy, that Laodomia might be gone, so soon as possible might be. But while these Princes advance towards Caurio, it is fitting we should relate by what fortune they all met, from such remote parts, in Lusitania all together. And the Princesse of Acarna­nia, as the greatest stranger shall be our first subject. Acarnania and Epirus having from the beginning been but one Kingdom subject to one Crown, remained (after they were divided) in great question be­tween them: which differences being agreed between the two present Kings, the agreement was sealed by a double affinitie. The Prince of Acarnania taking a sister of Raico's to wife, and Raico having espoused Leuriana (which is this of whom we speak) the sister of the said Prince. The marriage of the first was consummated, that of the second was deferred, being contracted in the parties too tender age. Whereby [Page 127] Raico came to fall in love with Laodomia, who with her allurements kept him so entangled, that the poor Prince did not imagine there had been any beautifull or gratious women in the world besides this. His Father had from the beginning sent him to live with his spouse in Acarnania, to the end that her daily sight and conversation, through amity might beget such love as ought to be among married people, a design which took no effect but on Leuriana's side, she so enflamed of the Prince, that she joy'd in nothing more, then in being near him; and being inclined to warlike exercises, she loved him the more, not judging any other Prince worthy of her love, considering him for an addition to his other vertues, to surpasse in feats of arms all the Knights of his time. So that such active strength and excellent spirit never wanting exercises, and new delights to entertain him, she thought all time evill spent which was without him. But he going into Epirus, and from thence into Feacia, to invite that Prince to his wedding, by misfortune fell in love with Laodomia; so that forgetting his former espousalls, he had not returned home, if his Father by re­duplicate letters and messages had not recalled him. Yet he could not perswade him to return into Acarnania, being so besotted with the sweets which he had tasted, that all other delights seemed bitter and unsavoury to him: being by Laodomia again entangled in the snares of her obedience by reiterated letters, promising she would become his wife after her husbands death, which was looked for every hour by reason of his continuall and dangerous diseases; and fearing his Fa­thers obstinate severity, might force him to obedience, She thought her readiest way would be to have Leuriana poisoned. Sending there­fore a trustie favourite of hers, she did with gifts corrupt her Cup­bearer to that purpose, who being discovered and put to death, a little afterward she caused her to be set upon by three murtherers advantagiously armed, as she was a hunting of a Stag, whereof she ha­ving killed one, the other two were taken by the huntsmen which came in, and being questioned, confessed they were sent by Laodomia, which happened at that time that Almadero arrived at Ericusa, where­fore she betaking her self to this new love, and forbearing writing to him, there happened the so long wisht for death of her husband. Which was no sooner heard of by Raico, but he intending to take his journey that way, was by his wary Father stayed, being the first that told him that Laodomia was married. But he having obtained his li­berty after she was gone, resolved to go after her into Lusitania, as we have related. Leuriana in the mean time combated by disdain, and forced by love went in quest of him, thinking she should find him in Lusicania, & after many troubles and dangers she arrived there so late, that if she had delayed but one hour longer, she had found him dead, and having theresaved his life, she brought him to Olisippo, as you have heard, but would not make her self known to him, enraged, that she was so basely and causelessely contemned for such a kind of wo­man. Then hearing of the comming of the Ambassadours to Lanco­bridge, [Page 128]she went thither, there employing her self as you have heard: and being again returned to Olisippo, she related to Raico what things had befallen her, and made her self known to him: he repenting he had undeservedly neglected her. Wherefore these new obligements added to the antient love, he begged pardon of her, and having without much difficulty obtained it, she recommended him to the care of her damzel being to her great grief forced to leave him in that manner alone and wounded.

The Lord of Ithaca, the elder of the two younger brothers of the Prince of Cephalonica, and Son of a Sister to the Prince of Feacia, had up­on occasion of visiting his Uncle contracted an unseemly kind of acquaintance with his aunt, which he perceiving banished his Ne­phew his house and dominions; and finding himself by reason of his unworthy conditions, to be hated by his neighbours and brethren, resolved, hearing Laodomia was married to go into Lusitania, and there under the mournfull omens of his old loves to better his fortunes: but there he found his hopes mightily changed, seeing that while he purposed to oblige her with undertaking her defence, he was so buffe­ted, that he was hardly whole time enough to accompany her into Leucadia, as he did.

I will not rehearse the acts of Lindadori, since we left her in Parthe­nope. Onely I will say that the feasts being ended for the return of Co­rianna (in which she obscured the fame of all the Knights that came thither) a mind took her to see all Italy, and then France, and Spain; where hearing of the wonders of Liartas visible spirit she came to O­lisippo, and being informed of the truth, she went away at the Am­bassadors arrivall to Lancobridge, there befalling her what we have already said.

Corallo remains, who after Liarta was gone from Ericusa, tarried there almost a whole month, cured by the affections, no more of la­sciviousnesses and loves, but of true amity of the Dutchesse Chrisanta. Honour and age, and especially troubles (which were the raisers of these respects) giving her understanding. The violence and anger of his evills being past, entring in discourse of the disasters befallen her, he besought her to relate the successes thereof to him, and how being reputed dead by the world, she was now, praised be Heaven, healthfull and safe. Whereunto after a short preludium of tears she thus answered. You command me (O Prince Coralbo) to rehearse a Tragedy, whereof (if the miseries were not of the highest kind) I might with dry eyes make relation, but they being such as they are, it will be impossible for me to perform it without shedding of tears, lest there issue dropps of blood out of my heart. Yet I mean not upon this consideration to shew my self discourteous to you: your just desire having an interest in mine affairs, yea, you being the fatall cause (though without any fault of yours) of all my disasters. Know then, that after you had killed Cripasso, and that mine unfortunate damsel was slain by my Sonnes, they had at the same time a thought to kill my me too; But the consideration of their own honours [Page 129]disswaded them, seeing the cause of my death could not be shadowed without scandal: Wherefore contenting themselves with causing me to retire into an other lodging, by reason of the dead which lay in mine, and to cause my trunks to be carryed thither, as though I had been to remain there for a while, they took away all my servants, leaving none to wait upon me, but onely the slave Selucca, and went away, giving me no answer to any thing I asked them: and some few dayes being past, they spread abroad a rumour, that I was mortally sick, forcing my Physitian to say the same. I, who knew nothing of it, and should rather have imagined any thing, then such an inhumane reso­lution; the slave came to me with a Letter from Labenus, I opened it and read it, wherein was written, That my Sons not willing to suf­fer me to live any longer, had resolved to cause me to die the next night: Wherefore if I would save my life, there was no other way but to come down while they were at supper into the entry below in the slaves habit, where I should find him, and thence go out at the Gar­den door, which went out into the Town dike, whose key I had in my keeping. You may imagine how I found my self after this news, but considering the prudence and fidelity of Labenus, the manner how I was used, how I was a prisoner, banished from my servants, my Chil­dren denying me the sight of them, I made no more doubt of it, but taking a little Cabinet full of Jewels, and as much Gold as I could well carry: I put on the wretches Clothes, she laughing at it, and making her lie down in mine own bed, I commanded her to sleepe, which she did immediately, and I went away leaving her in her last sleep.

I know not whether you remember this wretches qualities, not on­ly to conceive what I lost in losing of her, but rather to admire how often heaven infuseth in contemptible persons, conditions of inesti­mable value. Selucca was sold me a child, she grew stupid, and ended mad: her apish tricks rather then follies, were all pleasant save onely when she was frighted: amongst wild beasts, the Bear was to her as the Cock is to the Lion, the naming of him only would startle her. If any one had but hanged a Handkercher before his face, and said he was a Bear, she would have leaped out at a Window, if she could have got away by no other way; and if she could not shun him, she would have become outragious, and fallen upon him and beaten him: She loved to wear gay Clothes, so that being ill-favoured, and a head no bigger then ones fist, brave Clothes did dis-figure, her ma­king her look more like a changling or an elfe, then like a woman. She was very cleanly, and extream neat in all she did: She never went from me, and was as it were inseparable from me, but without any trouble; for I discoursing of businesse, she neither understood it, nor applyed her self to the understanding of it; her understand­sting having no part of reflection in it: and if I had need of any thing, I needed not have called to any one else for it, she served me with so good a garb, manners and behaviour, that it was impossible that such rich qualities should harbour in so poor a Cottage. The ima­gination [Page 130]wrought the effect in her in this, for if I had bid her sleep, she would have slept, lying upon the ground, leaning her head upon the hearth of the Chimney. The Duke my Son, made her once (I have forgotten upon what occasion) put on mans apparell, and be­ing very cold weather, going near the fire with her, he made her come so near it, that she burned her lgges, and she saying she burned, the Duke answered her no; for the legs which burned were not Seluccas, but his: Which she rejoycing at, the more the fire scorcht her, the more she laughed, imagining it did not scorch her but the Duke: and though her legges were scorched therewith a long time after, yet she alwaies was of that mind, it was her Master that had burned his legges, and would laugh at it as a fruit of her wit, the fruit of her cun­ning and well turned brain. When Labenus gave her the Letter to bring to me, she had so much understanding, as to know that no bo­dy else was to see it, and putting it into her bosome, she did not take it out till she came into my presence. I caused her to lie in my bed, to her and my disadventure, intending to cozen my Sonne; but had I imagined such a success, I would have done any thing but what I did. Having found Labenus, and given him the Cabinet, and most part of the money, I went down into the Mote, where having laid down Se­lucca's Clothes, I put on mans apparell, which he had hidden there before for me, and went not far off from thence to Boviano, to the house of Ceriale my most faithful servant, who kept two very good Horses for me, upon which getting up, taking that way my Domini­ons reached least, which was towards Daunia, coming about break of day to the River Frento, having crossed which, we had been out of my jurisdiction of Sannio. I had staid there willingly, having need of rest, but fearing to be known (having refreshed our Horses, we went beyond Luceria, riding all night without resting. Being come to the River Aufidus, not far from Canusio, I rested there that night, and the day following, expecting that Ceriale (according to order given him) should come or send me some news: He came himself, and told me, that my Sonnes accompanied by two servants onely, were that night gone into my Chamber without any light, and finding Selucca in my bed, thinking it had been I, they had caused to be her strangled, and by twi-light having opened the windows, they had caused her to be put into a Chest, and the next day to be buried without any solem­nitie at all: That afterwards seeking for Selucca, and finding her Clothes in the Mote, and not her, they entred into suspition that she was gone, having stolen somewhat of great value: Therefore search­ing the place where I kept my Jewels, they found the keyes up­on the Desk (which I had left there at random, after I had locked it up) opened it, and not finding the Jewels, the suspition increa­sing they had sent after her to take her, and bring her back: I know not which I lamented most, either the innocent wenches mis-for­tune, or my Childrens cruelty against my self: I remained not know­ing what course to take, but being advised to stay here (the place be­ing [Page 131]secure, although I had been known) I writ divers Letters of cre­dency by Ceriale, to some of my Vassals that hearing I was alive, they might know how to find occasions to serve me. The news of my mis-fortune in the mean time being bruited abroad about the con­fines, was of great scandal, and cause of unspeakable disdain to all my kindred, believing the two Brothers had taken such a wicked reso­lution to divide the inheritance between them, being both prodigal, & consequently enemies to my frugal, though not ignoble oeconomie. They had sent, as I have told you, every way to seek out Selucca, and finding no rest within themselves, (their hearts being continually gnawn by the beak of Conscience) nor any place in the house free from my shadows threatning of them; they resolved to go out of it, with pretext of seeking her themselves, willing to have no other company with them but two Pages: and coming at night (for the accumulating of all mis-fortunes) to lodge where I lay; they found me in a little Parlour, with my face towards the door. There was no other light but that little which came from the Chimney, the flame being weak, and the wood almost quite consumed; wherefore to know me in the habit I was in, would have been hard for any else, and especially for them which thought me dead, if the flying Atoms had not taken my shape upon them, and flying about them, had not made me known; Reputing me therefore to be not that carnal Mo­ther which had brought them forth, but her offended spirit; Their affrightment was such, that the younger tumbling down the stairs, made such a noise, that all the guests in the Inneran to the noise: and Labenus being gone into the Kitchin to bespeak my supper, ran to the noise with the rest, yet presently went back again as soon as he saw them: But it was more then needed: for being by the terror of sight bereft both of sence and reason, one with his head broken with the fall down stairs, the blood running about his ears, and both of them mad; they took their Horses, which the servants of the house were walking in the yard, rid away as fast as they could. Labenus advised me to be gone presently; thinking that they hearing I was alive, were come to find me out: But if it had been so, having found and known me, they needed not have ran from me. I staid therefore, and taking heart, I supped; but as I was going to bed, we heard a whisper­ing that put us again into confusion. Labenus shutting the door after him, went down the stairs, and finding two guests new come in to the Inne encompassed with others, he heard them say, Vengeance is divine. The world believes, (and I doubt it is true enough) that with their own hands they killed their Mother. The Gods have pu­nish'd them, to shew how they abhor parricide: But how happened it, said one of them that stood by. I will tell you said the other; They had both been here where they intended to lie all night, but a Ghost appearing unto them here (as a Page relateth who saw it as well as they) they fled away. Now whilest upon the way one followed the other with a full Gallop, who by a fall down the stairs, felt himself in a very evill case; he saw him stop on a suddain, and drawing his [Page 132]sword hit his own horse between the ears, that were it the force of the blow, or because he hit him in a mortall place; the horse fell dead to the ground. This terror added to the former, made him conceive some great frenzie in his brother, he alighted to help him, and come­ing to him asked him what he ailed. But he muttering (so that one could not understand what he said) wounded the eldest with a thrust in the belly, and alighting from his horse, followed him so close, that he forced him to defend himself. The pages alighted, came too late to part them. For having run one another through, closing together they continued the battell with fists and nailes: till falling asunder they died howling, and groaning in such hideous manner, that my companions and I coming thither just at that time, were ex­traordinarily affrighted with it. Seeing them in the pangs of death bite the Earth, wallow up and down in their own blood, and draw their faces awry in such a distracted manner, as had been able to affright any as looked upon them, were their courage never so stout: The Pages thinking it impossible (that two young men even now a­live should so suddenly be dead) could not imagine them breathlesse till having in vain tried, they with the help of others who came by chance thither, laid them a-crosse their own horses, accompanying them with tears, bringing many witnesses along with them, how the case had happened, for fear they should be suspected to be the mur­therers of them.

When Labenus came down the stairs, I looked out at the window, curious of mine own evill, and punctually heard what I have related unto you. Here Chrisanta stopped, and her eyes gushed out tears: Co­ralbo not able to restrain his: But after he had sufficiently satisfied the lawes of piety and friendship, he endeavoured with the best reasons he could to comfort her, so that she forbearing weeping went on. La­benus being come, found me as if I had been dead. And perceived both by the window being open, and by finding me in that case he need­ed not to relate to me how the businesse had happened, his office was to comfort me, and partly did: but could by no means perswade me to return: he found no reason sufficient to convince me, desperation and grief being more efficacious orators then he. He writ presently to Ceriale, and gave him an accompt of this mine unheard of resolution, and made duplicated letters thereof, leaving one with the host of that house, and sending the other by an expresse messenger, to the end that my vassalls should not suffer the pretenders to that inheri­tance to take possession I being alive: and in case they would not give faith to his relations, or did deny the letters of credence which I had formerly written by him, they should digg up the coffin in which it was esteemed, I lay buried, that they might see there was none but Selucca. And that sending Ambassadors to me (as the case required) they should come directly to Ephesus, and there they should find me. Ceriale (as I told you) should have come again to this Inne, but I would not stay for him. I rid the next morning towards the Sea side, and he meeting the messenger with the letter, and receiving [Page 133]the Duplicate from the host, riding after me, having done what hee could to alter my resolution, accompanied me (finding me obstinate) to Idrentum where I embarqued my self, he having left orders with Labenus to not fail me. I sailed into Greece, and being arrived to Ephe­sus, I got acquainted with Dianaes chief Priestesse. I found many ob­stacles against my admission. That I had been married, and had chil­dren, my comming to the Goddesses service in the autumne of my daies, driven to it, not by election, but by misfortunes, and for these causes I was not admitted. It much distasted me, I fell sick, and was many times likly to die, and one of the chief things which perswaded me, the Gods were angry with me, was because they would not hear my prayers in suffering me to die, Ceriale returned within two months alter our arrivall, and four Ambassadours with him, with some of my damsells and servants. They related to me the dammages of the Province, the pretences of the Dukes of Daunia, and Frento: that the Coffin was digged up in their presence, in which was found the body of Selucca by all sufficiently known. That they had with much difficulty condescended to suspend their pretences for a year, more for fear of war it self, then because they had any will to do it. They beseeched me to resolve either to return (which they all humbly begg'd of me might be the resolution) or to declare mine heir, to ap­pease the warrs and tumults which were like to rise between those two Princes. The State of Sannio mine own patrimony free for me to leave to whom I pleased, so he were of mine own blood. And those two Princes, being in equall degree of consanguinity with me, it would be impossible, to take off their pretences, without my speciall declaration. The repulse given me by the Priestesse, and these remon­strances made me alter mine opinion, I embarqued and came hither to your great dammage and mine. And when I shall see you in secure state of health, I will continue my voyage, to comfort my subjects, and live the remainder of my daies in sorrow, mourning after the loss of my Children. Coralbo had been attentively hearkning to all this discourse, and hearing it to be ended, he said, Madam, is it an ordi­nary thing, that where passion raignes, reason be a slave, and the do­mination tyrannicall? But in you it is not so, each of them must have their place prescribed without these disorders. Reason ought not to change her estate, nor become of directrix, a slave; but give Law, and govern the affections, as their Soveraign, perpetuall, and naturall La­dy. The possession of your passion is just, and reason which gave it her, consents thereunto, but not for perpetuity. It lies in reasons power to take it away, for fear, least rebelling, she should seek to make a state apart, in prejudice of that Soveraignty, which reason cannot despoil her self of, unlesse she cease to be what she is. A wound which is given in a moment cannot in the same time be healed: Chirur­gery requires its progresses, and to close it well, it is necessary it should distill and purge, to the end, that the humors being taken a­way, the danger may cease of its opening again. I (Madam) am of [Page 134]the number of those which being born men, pretend to live such who esteem human nature ought not to harden it self against the mo­tion of passions; and under pretence of a beastly Stoick constancie, dishumanate or unman themselves: for whosoever attains to the height of impassibility in passions which annoy, attaines that of insensibilitie in those which delight. Wherefore he that hath no sence of evill cannot have any of what is good; and the ad­vantage of not being afflicted in misfortunes, bringeth along this disadvantage with it of not rejoycing in prosperities. I hold that wis­dom alterable and foolish, which pretends to alter and make wise na­ture; when the effects thereof are to render men inhumane, churlish, and savage. If our passions then be such that reason permits them; If sores ought to be purged before they heal, and if nature have made us to be passible, let us weep (for it is lawfull for us,) when we find our selves afflicted, let us give vent to our affections, open the Cha­nells to our tears that they may not overflow us, and that which rea­son cannot correct in you in an instant, time will consume it with pleasure and by degrees in his progresses. Chrisanta wept bitterly hea­ring of these discourses, when Coralbo thus went on. Madam, that which till now hath been allowable in you, is the payment due to blood and nature. But if you be so ready to these, you ought not to deny the same readinesse to Reason also. To her that cancells your debt and makes you no longer to remain a Creditor to them. Chrisan­ta did not well understand the meaning of these last words, where­fore suspending her weeping, she prayed him to explain them. They are not obscure as I believe, answered Coralbo; You have by lamenting paid that which by a mother is due to Children, and the debt which reason cancells, is their not having paid to you, that which Children owe to a mother, wherefore the injury received ought in their losse to bring gain unto you. You have lost two children to whom you gave life, you have delivered and quit your self of two Enemies that would have procured your death. If therefore they so inhumanly failed in their filiall duty towards you, wherefore shall you so ten­derly superabound in motherly affection towards them? That your love hath more power then their ingratitude is laudable in you, but you will deserve more commendation, if mixing them both together you make a Cataplasme therewith to cure your passions. Ah Prince Coralbo answered the Dutchesse) you are not yet a Father, and if you were, yet were you not capable of a Mothers passions: I confesse my Children have deserved ill at my hands, but I must likewise confesse, they could not evacuate in me the affections of nature. I am not only with you of that sect which condemnes the privation of passions, but also am with those who esteem it to be contrary to the prescriptions of everlasting providence, if man shall have no feeling of the losse of a friend, vain will be both the name and all manner of friendly affecti­on. Hatred and love will be indifferent, and all things indifferent though naturally subordinate to one of these passions. If passions in evill have their sorrows, in good they have their delights; and hu­man [Page 135]nature is compounded no less (as far as concernes the spirit) of these two contraries, then the body is of the four Elements, contra­ry amongst themselves. If I live, it is because living is pleasing to me; neither hath the conservation of this life any means, but hath its be­ing from some sweetness. Those who undertake to live spiritually, and that abhor worldly delights, are not without pleasures, the con­templation of divine things is their delight. When nature (we being arived to old age) begins to be weary of us, it takes away out tast, to the end that being weary of her, it may not grieve us to die. Finally, If it were not enough for man to moderate his affections, but that he might (when he would) leave them, (granted that the soules retaine the habits of vices and vertues.) God had failed in his power, that happening which he did not fore-see, seeing that having erected Paradice for glory, and Hell for punishment; Glory not delighting, nor punishment afflicting, he had need either to correct nature, or make new orders in reward and punishment. I accept therefore of your counsell my Celio, I dispose my self not to renounce, but to moderate my affections; and so doing, I hope none shall have cause to complain of me. Not nature, having made me sensible of its motions. Nor reason, I running with open armes to receive its Oracles. Now that which I desire at your hands is, that since you have heard my mis-for­tunes, you will be pleased to let me know your adventures. Coralbo did not deny her, and beginning at his departure from her, he rela­ted all had happened to him to that instant; concealing nothing but his love. He said he was going into Sardinia, to give satisfaction for the favours he had received from Prince Polimero, and then to go about in the world, till the fates having had their course, would be pleased to call him to some rest. But that having had the fortune to meet her, laying all other journeys a part, he was resolved to accompany her in her voyage to Sannio. Chrisanta heard him with affectuous intention. She refused (but with very thankfull and courteous words) his com­pany, remonstrating to him the report which had formerly been rai­sed upon the love she had born him, and how he was hated for the death of Cripasso, both of too much jeopardy and danger. That she was doubly grieved at his being wounded, she being con­strained thereby to stay in Ericusa, and discover unto others the continuation of their love: But that having many dayes since sent home the Ambassadours, she cared the lesse for it, being secure of the good inclination of her servants, by whom he also was unfeignedly honoured, having heard of his greatnesse, and of the title of Prince which he most deservedly bore. She desired him to rest assured of her good will, and that save her honour, he should make use of her, and her fortunes at any time. That disasters had not changed her love, but her passions, to love him for time to come as her Child, so that as Mother, she did at present offer her self to him; that at her return home, she must live after the manner of a widow as she was, and with­out Children: To wash away the spots she had been stained by, the sus­pected love she formerly had born him. Coralbo could hardly consent to [Page 136]leave her alone; but being convinced by reasons, he attended to the cure of his wounds, and they requiring a long cure, having not long after caused a Vessel to be prepared, he would (howsoever against her will) go away, to the end that long delaying might do him no wrong.

There were many teares shed at this separation, both leaving Eri­cusa, and going from thence severall wayes. The Dutchess was with extraordinary honour received in Sannio, reducing her self to so vir­tuous and exemplary a life; that she was reverenced by all, though at last the former calamities, and the longing desire she alwayes had after Coralbo, were in few years the cause of her death. A hidden and repressed love in a woman resolved to honesty, being a poyson which by little and little consumes, and kills: Coralbo had taken the Chi­rurgion of Ericusa with him; and having the same conveniency with him aboord as he had on Land, being furnished with all he wanted, he advanced so far, that coasting all Italy from Port to Port (to secure himself from bad weather during his indisposition) he came to Sici­lia, wanting but little of being quite healed. There hearing of the departure of the banisht Lady from Parthenope, he passed on to Sar­dinia, a little after the death of the old King, where he was entertain­ed by the new one Polimero, and Eromena his wife, with all manner of curtesies. There were some few days before arrived Letters from Lindadori, with news of her passing over into Lusitania; so that he framing an excuse of going to see Liarta, and bringing back the Prin­cess from thence, imbarqued for Iberia, and finding her in Lanco­bridge Champion of his honour; if he had not loved her before, this very curtesie would have been sufficient to oblige him to adore her. Wherefore as soon as he had leisure to speak, delivering her the Let­ters he had brought with him out of Sardinia: he said unto her, (Ma­dam) after that in Aegypt I knew your valour, before I knew the greatnesse of your state, I was enflamed with so prudent a desire to serve you, that I could hardly resolve my selfe to stay in that Coun­try, being not able in your absence to execute, so good an intention: and though I severall times thought to abandon the interests I had there, yet I did not, doubting least the losing the opportunity of re­covering my Kingdom, might be imputed to be for want of courage, and consequently I should render me unworthy of professing my self to be your servant. Now fortune (by the death of King Psemiti­des) having over-thrown all my designs, I hasted to find you out. I had in Sicilia advice of your departure from Parthenope: I sailed into Sardinia, where from the King your Father I was told of your com­ming into this Country; and obtained of him those Letters which I have presented you. I came, and while I was studying in what I might serve you, I find my self in such manner obliged by you at Lanco­bridge, that though fortune, and the stars should all conspire in my behalf, I shall not know how to come out of your debt; so much did you oblige me, by that your generous act of defending mine honour [Page 137]against the Lord of Ithaca. Let the confessing of my debt, Madam, avail something with you, seeing I shall never be able to pay it other­wise, but with rendring you most humble thanks, and assuring you, that if Coralbo was acquired by you, by the merits of your virtue, he is now more then ever yours, subjected unto you by the favour you have been pleased this day to shew him. And having thus said, bow­ing his knee to the ground, he suddainly kissed her hand: Lindadori had ever since her being in Aegypt, preserved (not without delight) in her mind Coralbo's feature and behaviour, having not met with any since that had liked her so well: and though in love affairs she was rather cold then otherwise, yet nature did not fail in her orders, and though she could not fix a violent affection in her; yet she besprink­led her with an affectionate kind of amity, which alone served for a foundation of the future affection: wherefore having heard his words, and apprehending the sence of them, she remained through discretion in such manner satisfied, that being of a free nature and void of art, she openly answered him; Prince, If I knew my selfe such as you represent me, I might have occasion to think the better of my self. But finding my self much inferiour to that your pencill would make me seem to be, I cannot without blushes hear your prai­ses, nor dissemble how much I am obliged to you for it, unlesse I should be ingrate. The pains which you have taken for me by coming so long a voyage for my sake, doth doubly bind me to you. I will be­lieve it done for the cause which you say, not because I know my self worthy of it, but because so vertuous a Knight would not so far abase himself as to scoffe a silly maid without hope of gaining any thing, but only to please his own fancy. Your coming is therefore accepta­ble to me; I much esteemed the merit of your person, as soon as I had the honour to know you: I commended your valour, seeing the trialls of it, and confirmed my self in the opinion I had conceived of you, having discovered you to be that Prince you are; I am exream­ly grieved for the King of Aegypts death, but doubly by reason of your interests therein: I pray you to let us have from you such no­tice of the manner of it, as we can here but hardly have from fame, which arrives hither but weary and with unfeathered wings after so long a voyage. Coralbo wery well satisfied with so prudent and graci­ous an answer, recited to her Psemitides his Tragedy, and then to make her merry, he recounted to her, Eritreas love to her, esteeming her a Knight which they laughed at a long time together: Then re­plying the condolencies of his mis-fortunes, he made her all such proffers as friends use to make to one another; meer effects of courte­sie; her heart thankfull, not amorous. And though the ends of Coral­bo were fully known to her, yet she was not moved thereby, she re­mained still the same; she cared not, neither was carelesse; she did not contemn them, neither did they obtain that advantage for him, as a young amorous Knight might pretend in a Damsels heart. After­wards going with the Princesse of Acarnania to visit Raico, they staid [Page 138]there some dayes, till the Ambassadors being come, they went toge­ther to Caurio, they were honoured, and entertained according to the merit and virtue of such Princes. They found the Court full, the Kings brother yet a Child, the Queens sisters, but not Branichilde, who was lost at Almaderoes first arrival, no body knowing how: and though she was carefully sought for, she could never be heard of, being va­nished away without the company or knowledge of any one. Linda­dori was received with particular honour, for the report of her vali­ant acts. Leuriana for their obligements to her, having been an effectu­all instrument of delivering them from Laodomia, and Coralbo for Li­arta's friendship: Order being given for such pastimes as upon such occasions be not ordinary in all Courts: at which pastimes, if the two warrioresses did enamour the world with their gallantry and valour, Coralbo advanced no lesse in Lindador's favour, it being the only aime of all his actions. Liarta complained, that in so long a voyage as they went together, he had concealed what he was, therefore making her discourteous and uncivil, not having known him to be a Prince, but by the Marriners after she was embarqued: But he excused himselfe, because her afflictions at that time were great enough without being increased by participating of others: Raico was brought into the Kings Palace at Olisippo, by the Kings order, and there entertained till the return of the Court, which was sooner then was intended, because the respects of Laodomia being ceased, it came thither within few days without going to Lancobridge. The first thing the King and Queen did accompanied with the Princes, was to visit Raico. They found him still in bed, sore handled by the hardnesse of the stones, evill neigh­bours to his Hermitage. He was much jeered with it, and she that most vexed him was Leuriana. But he being freed from Laodomia, laughed at every thing, being glad he was rid of her at so reasonable a charge saying, that whereas love unties his bands with arrows head­ed with lead, he had untied his with the blows of stones. The Lord of Ithaca did not passe away his time so pleasantly, seeing that alone, and infamous, he was lodged in one of the innermost lodgings, to the end he might not be heard of: solitude and darknesse being fit pla­ces for him that hath lost his honour. As soon as the Vessels were pre­pared, the King sent Philarchus alone to Laodomia, who bringing her by night to Olisippo, shipped her, recommended her to the winds. Her friend of Ithaca embarquing himself privately with her: The Port being found free the next day, there was great joy made of it, every one glad they were rid of so wicked a woman. Liarta was crowned with generall applause, and the Trumpets being ended, each one resolved to depart. Almadero had caused two Gallies to be prepared, one for Lindadori and Coralbo, the other for Leuriara and Raico. The separation was with many tears. They went away toge­ther sayling in company to Sardinia, where the two last tarrying ma­ny days, having refreshed their Galley with new provision, and pro­tested perpetuall amity to each other, followed their voyage towards [Page 139] Epirus. Lindadori could not have arrived in Sardinia in a more conve­nient time; the world being unexpectedly fallen into such a resoluti­on, as it had not been in for many thousand years before: Archisan­der, King of the innermost Aethiopia was come, and as swift as light­ning had run thorow Tingitania, at that time when the Tingitanian thought himselfe to be arrived to the end of being in effect, as well as in name, Universall King. Metaneon who had lawfully suc­ceeded his Father in the Kingdom of Mauritania, seeing his dreadful proceedings, and the great corruptions which were amongst the great ones of his Court, had assisted Archisander to his power, thinking by this means to draw him to a resolution to assault his state. But the first advice thereof, came not till Coralboes arrivall into Sardinia. Tin­gitania was troubled (whilest it troubled others) by two mighty factions, one for the King, and the other against him: and he believing he had already established his power against this last in such manner, as he should have no need to fear it, adventured either through im­prudency, or through some immature zeal, to discontent Sassirius a great Prince, who had with great hurt to himself been most faithful to him, fearing lest for the future he might fail him in service, he ha­ving failed him in gratitude; and imagined that he being over­thrown, he might render himself absolute over both, a designe which proving unhappily in him, proved most happy in Metaneon; for find­ing the state in some danger, not unlike to that of the Tingitanian, by reason of the authority and forces of them who did share parts in it; he reduced them to obedience, some by force, and some by councell, taking away their Governments, demolishing their Forts; so that the Monarchie which at his coming to the Crown he found Aristocraticall, he reduced to an absolute one, and wholly depending upon Roall authority. The Mauripanians are a warlike Nation, inclined under the conduct of great ones to oppose their Kings. Not for the publick good (an ordinary pretence,) but upon particu­lar fancies. Whereupon that Kingdom which in it self is powerful, and had at all times atchieved every where notable enterprises, could never enjoy the fruits of them. Insolencie, Inconstancie, Infide­lity in the managing of Money, and impatience in the managing of designes being the true causes of its disorders. It would have been suitable to defend it self, and to overcome peradventure the Tingi­tanian, but the internall factions disunited its forces, and many times brought it near the point of perishing. The Kings never went about any design, but it was broken by a civill war, whereby the armes which were prepared against forraign enemies, were divided and employed against one another, some for, and some against the Prince, so that when he again intended to pacifie the Kingdom, he was forced to hearken to them who advised old Governments to be abolished, new ones added, to recompence some honours instead of punishing of them, and disburse great summes of money to them under pretence of disbanding of souldiers: A foul and hardly corrigible abuse, drawn [Page 140]from the dissolute liberty of that government. The Nobility being in great esteem, depending upon Princes or the chief amongst them, who powerfull by the governments of Provinces and strong holds, made the King weak, and contemptible. So that whosoever reads those Histories, finds in them continually the same humors, the same effects, no other difference but of persons and times. Metaneon's first scope was to separate them, and it proved as he would have it; For having beaten down one faction, which was generally odious to all the Kingdom, he cut the others way from part-taking one with another, whereupon finding too late, that by the transfixing of others, they had transfixed themselves, at the same instant as they felt themselves weakned, they found themselves oppressed: Therefore having no other remedy, they thought to restore unto the Kings brothers their common — upon hopes of unconceivable commotions, vain hopes, and more dangerous then the evill it selfe. For they being fled to the Tingitanian, exiled and poor, in stead of bringing him any bene­fit, they were burthensome to him, he being constrained for his own reputation and honour, to entertaine them according to their quality, with appearance of no other advantage but of a vain, flying, and un­profitable fame. Metaneon contrary-wise having obtained with the ab­solute soveraignty, an open declaration by the effects, that there were not forces sufficient to resist him, established himself so much the more; his reputation being able to keep the rest within their bounds: In the mean time the complaints were great, they cryed out an absolure King was a dangerous thing, power by nature burthen­some, did tend towards tyranny, its centre. That an illimited autho­rity did not well agree with the safety of mens goods and lives, im­prisonment and other punishments, fitter to be inflicted by the lawes, then according to mens wills, and the humours of a Prince: where­unto the others answered, that when it was spoken of receiving pro­fits and favours, the King was cryed up, as not subject to the lawes: and if they would not formerly have been subjects to laws, why should he now be subject to seditions? shall the rules of these be more apt to keep Kings within their bounds, then the Rules of the laws? a Prince could not be a Tyrant, unlesse he were a wicked man: a soul piously organized, and that hath Registers in its own Conscience, would alwaies recede from evill. Tyranny to be perpetually unjust, but injustice not alwaies tyrannical; and if a Prince sometimes have run into it, he deserves to be excused for it. Many examples, though wicked, have caused a publick safety: the subjects not to be ex­empt from that fault; and that which is worser, their injustices are alwaies tyrannical, if they may: For a warlike people, and subject to alterations, an incertain danger of tyranny, to be better then a cer­tain one of civill war. That great enterprises and conquests were ne­ver atchieved but under Captaines or absolute Princes. And if mode­ration be difficult to all, in all things, it is much more so in Govern­ments, and so much the lesse, the more they come neare to uni­tie. [Page 141]Optimacy amongst Common-wealths, to be of a better form then a popular state, but Monarchy more excellent then that: One Tri­umvirate to have done more hurt, the power of thirty Citizens more then all the Tyrants that succeeded them. That there are Governments which with a Councel hurtfully circumspect, are repugnant to an ab­solute Authority, though conferred in time, while there was never any well governed Common-wealth, that upon urgent causes did not judge the supream authority of a Dictator, or a Generall ne­cessary. Temporizing in Councils, and depending irresolute upon o­thers fancies, to be a cause of losing opportunities which are mo­mentary, and with them is lost the reputation in warlike affairs, a bridge is made passable to an enemy for the invading of a State, which before was not: a most absurd thing, that a Generall by ver­tue of the Law of arms, should have authority for life and death over Souldiers, and that a Prince should not have it, by vertue of his Royall plenipotency over seditious men and Rebels: He seeks the contempt of Kings, that would have him bound to the peoples arbi­trement, not that the sworn Laws be dispensable, but to bind him to all of them punctually, is as it were to bind his Scepter to his hand, so that he may not be able to make use of either. The fundamentall Laws only to be indispensable, and the people standing upon minute­nesses, and the Prince upon his prerogatives, is capable to over-throw a Common-wealth. That there are faults on all sides, but they not all deserve repeal, and alterations. That there is no Monarch so absolute, but is subject to the Laws; God only free, being both the Law and Productor of nature. If the Prince doth not alwaies make use of his Prerogatives granted him by the people, because he would not op­presse them, no more should the people alwaies make use obstinately of its priviledges against its Prince, for doubt of offending him. To these vocall discourses, were also added Expositions in writing, false­hood more eloquent then truth, but the effects are not alwaies cor­respondent to the Tongue. There are very few that hating Tyranny in others do not love it in themselves, being full of tyrannical desires; and having obtained of the Prince that which they desired, have not turned enemies to that liberty which they seemed before so fervent­ly to desire and defend: Yea, there was never any people that did seem to be a lover of liberty, but its chief aim was the subjecting of the Laws, the Nobility, and Prince himself. The old deceased King of Numidia, Polemicus, was a Prince endowed with many vertues; and if his inclination to warring had but sometimes been willing to yeeld to the necessities of peace, he had had but few equalls. Courtesie, mag­nanimity, and valour, having made him respected amongst all Prin­ces of his age. But the vertues which once come out of their Cen­ters, and begin to run towards an extream, if they be laudable some times, yet they be dangerous alwaies. Numidia is scituate in the mid­dest, between the Tingitanian and the Mauritanian: But on the side of Mauritania it lies so open, that it received several times from thence [Page 142]extraordinary dammages. Its dangers towards the Tingitanian were not alike; therefore that reason which they call of state, required a more indissoluble amity with one then with the other. Polemicus sup­posed that the reciprocal jealousies of these two great Kings, would be columnes for the preservation of his state. His fall likely to be too prejudiciall to him that had let him fall. A supposition though not false, yet alterable; policy teaching us, that Princes ought not to give themselves over to fortune, as Gamesters do to a throw of Dice, but keep themselves constant to him who can do them most hurt. Nature hath given us an instinct, which if it were not moderated by reason, would make us insupportable, namely to make use of our For­ces insolently against him who is not so strong as we. If the Mauri­tanian be fallen into this defect against the Numidian, I can not tell (the fact being not very well known;) yet I will say, that Polemicus ought (supending his inbred generosity) to have winked at it. Wrath without forces of onws one being vaine, and exceeding vaine, being grounded upon anothers strength, especially the Tingitanians, whose dissembling promises he had to his owne cost, many times had triall of. The first originall of these disorders, was the death of the King of the inner Lybia, without Children. He had many kindred, but his true and lawful Heir was Retelmero, a Prince not onely bred, but born in Mauritania, and consequently a creature of Metaneons, acknowledged and accepted for King, by the greatest and foundest part of the Lybians. It was not convenient for the Tin­gitanian, that one, who was a vassal of the Mauritanian, should raigne in a Kingdome from which he might receive much dammage, and therefore intended not onely to exclude him, but to possess himselfe of it, or install some one there of the same blood, but such an one as should depend on him. Polemicus on the other side, who had by anci­ent pretences very well grounded right in that Kingdom, could not well endure that Metaneon should put Retelmero in possession of that Kingdom, without having respect to him. For the dammage which he received thereby, though great, was separated by the small ac­compt which he supposed was made of him by such an act. Where­fore taking that resolution which wrath did dictate unto him, he in­tended to try whether with the help of the Tingitanian, he might by force attain to those pretences which he could not possibly attain to by any other means. But whilest he fits himself for it, he feels him­self on a suddain assaulted, fought with, and together with his state not onely oppressed, but little lesse then altogether lost. The Tingi­tanian on the other side being entred into the upper Lybia, and pos­sessed himself of its Metropolis, whilest he aspires to the lower (from the conquest whereof depended the possession of the whole) delay­ed sending aid to him, weakly assisting him, not because he should gather strength, but because he should be longer a losing himselfe, to the end that Metaneon being kept busie, he might by others losses ob­taine the end which he proposed to himselfe in his gains. But it came [Page 143]not to passe as he would have it: for the inferiour Lybia, being well defended by a great troop of Mauritanians which was gotten into it before hand, and Polemicus being dead unexpectedly, his Son Parte­nius succeeded him, a Prince of singular vertues, who ballancing the Tingitanian perfidiousnesse, with the weight of so many dangers, a­greed with Metaneon, and assuring him of his sincere inclinations, he obtained of him the restitution of what had been before gotten: receiving for the pretences which he had in the Kingdom of Lybia, what was between them friendly accorded for a recompence. This was the universal state, till the time as the Sun entred into Aries, the year of our Epoca 32. That which will succeed, the events will shew. And if it be lawfull for us to give a contingent judgement on future contingencies: we may say, That if those which have the reins of Go­vernment in their hand (I speak not of Princes) shall take their way along the paths of the publick interest, they shall do that which honesty and duty directs them, rather then any private respect. No authority retained for a violent necessity, can be preserved without necessary violence. But if they go on the way of their own interests, the preservation of their persons and fortune will be in question, and their ruine certain hereafter. Phaeton did not more certainly set the earth on fire, being transported by the fury of his Fathers horses; then they will fire it, transported with the jealousies of their own safety.

King Polimero, at the arrival of his Daughter and Coralbo, made the Drums beat all his States over in aid of his Brother, and they all with­out delay prepared for the enterprize. Eromena would not stay at the stern of Government, as her husband would have had her. Where­fore passing over with mighty armies into Mauritania, Coralbo had occasions first to deserve, then possesse his beloved Lindadori, as the world may hereafter hear by some better fashioned Pen then mine.