THE FIFTEENTH NOUELL.

Aurelianus Emperour of Rome and Lord of al Asia, to the right honorable Zenobia sendeth greetyng. Although to such rebellyous Women as thou art, it should seeme vncomely and not decente to make request, yet if thou wylt seeke ayde of my mercy, and rendre thy selfe vnder myne obedience, bee assured that I wyll doe thee honour, and geue pardon to thy people. The Golde, Siluer, and other riches, within thy Pallace I am content thou shalt enioy, together with the kingdome of Palmyres, which thou mayest keepe duringe thy life, and leaue after thy death to whom thou shalt think good, vpon condicion notwithstandinge, that thou abandone all thine other Realmes and Countryes which thou haste in Asia, and acknowledge Rome to be thy superior. Of thy vassalls, and subiectes of Palmyres, we demaund none other obedience, but to be confederates and frendes, so that thou breake vp thy Campe, wherewyth thou makest warre in Asia, and disobeyest the city of Rome, wee willsuffer thee to haue a certayne number of men of warre, so wel for the tuicion of thy person, as for the defence of thy kingdome, and thy two Children which thou haddest by thy husbande Odenatus. And he whom thou louest best shal remayne with thee in Asia, and the other I will carry with me to Rome, not as prisoner, but as hostage and pleadge from thee. The prisoners which thou hast of ours, shalbe rendred in exchange for those which we haue of thine, without raunsome of eyther parts.And by these meanes thou shalt remayne honored in Asia, and I contented, will retourne to Rome. The Gods be thy defence, and preserue our mother the city of Rome from all vnhappy fortune.The Queene Zenobia hauinge reade the letter of the Emperour Aurelianus, without feare of the contents, incontinently made sutch aunswere as followeth.Zenobia Queene of Palmyres, and Lady of all Asia, and the kingdomes thereof, to thee Aurelianus the Emperour, health, and consolation, &c. That thou do intitle thy selfe with the Emperour of the Romanes I doe agree, but to presume to name thy selfe lord of the East kingdomes, I say therein thou doest offend. For thou knowest wel, that I alone am Lady Regent of all the Orient, and the only dame and maystresse of the same. Th’one part whereof descended vnto me by lawful Inheritaunce from my predecessors, and the other part, I haue won by my prowesse and deedes of armes. Thou sayest that if I rendre obedience vnto thee, thou wilt do me great honor: To that I aunswere, that it were a dishonest part of me, and a deede most vniust, that the Gods hauing created Zenobia to commaund all Asia, she should now begyn to bee slaue and thral vnto the city of Rome. Semblably, thou saiest that thou wylt gyue and leaue me al the golde, siluer, and other ryches whych I haue: Whereunto I aunswer, that it is a wycked, and fond request, to dispose the goodes of another as they were thine owne. But thine eyes shall neuer see it, ne yet thy handes shal touche it, but rather I hope in the Gods aboue to bestow and crye a larges of that which thou haste at Rome, before thou finger that whych I haue and possesse in Asia. Truely Aurelianus, the warres which thou makest agaynst me, and thy quarell, bee most vniuste beefore the supernall Gods, and very vnreasonablebefore men, and I for my part if I haue entred or doe take armes, it is but to defend my self and myne. Thy comming then into Asia is for none other purpose, but to spoile and make hauocke of that which an other hath. And think not that I am greatly afrayde of the name of Romane Prynce, nor yet the power of thyne huge army. For if it bee in thy handes to gyue battell, it belongeth onely to the gods to gyue eyther to thee or me the victory. That I remaine in fielde it is to me greate fame, but thou to fight with a widdowe, oughtest truelye to bee ashamed. There be come vnto myne ayde and Campe the Persians, the Medes, the Agamennonians, the Irenees, and the Syrians, and with them all the Gods immortall, who be wont to chastice sutch proude princes as thou art, and to helpe poore Widowes as I am. And if it so come to passe, that the Gods doe permit and suffre my lucke to be sutch, as thou do bereue me of lyfe and dispoyle me of goods, yet it will be bruted at Rome, and published in Asia, that the wofull wight Zenobia, was ouerthrowne and slayne, in defence of hir Patrimony, and for the conseruation of hir husbande’s honor. Labor no more then Aurelianus, to flatter and pray me, nor yet to threaten me: requere me no more to yeelde and become thy prisoner, nor yet to surrender that which I haue: for by doinge that I can, I accomplish that I ought. For it will be sayd and noysed through the world, (may it so come to passe as Fortune do not fauor mee) that if the Empresse Zenobia be captiue, she was not yet vanquished. Now touchinge my son which thou demaundest to cary with thee to Rome, truely that request I cannot abide, and mutch lesse do meane to graunt, knowing full well that thy house is stored full of manyfolde vices, where myne is garnished with many notable Philosophers: whereby if I leaue vnto my Children no great heapes of goods, yet they shalbe wel taught and instructed: For the one half of the day they spend in Learninge, and the other halfe in exercise of Armes. For conclusion of thy demaund, and finall aunswere, thereunto, I pray thee trauayle no more by letters to write vnto mee, ne yet by ambassage to spende any furder talke, but attend vntill our controuersie bee decided rather by force of Armes than by vttered wordes. The Gods preserue thee.It is sayd that Aurelianus, receiuing that aunswere did reioyce, but when he had red it, he was greatly offended, which incontinently hee made to bee known, by gathering together his Camp, and besieginge the Citty wherein Zenobia was. And Aurelianus, wroth and outraged with that aunswere, although his army was weary and halfe in dispayre (by reason of the longe Warres,) yet he vsed sutch diligence and expedition in the siege of that place, as the Queene was taken and the city rased: which done, the Emperour Aurelianus retourned to Rome, caryinge with him Zenobia, not to doe hir to death, but to tryumph ouer her. At what tyme to see that Noble Lady goe on foote, and marche before the tryumphinge Chariot bare footed, charged with the burden of heauy chaynes, and hir two children by hir side: truly it made the Romane Matrons to conceyue great pity, being wel knowen to al the Romans, that neither in valorous deedes, nor yet in vertue or chastity, any man or woman of hir time did excell hir. The dayes of the triumph being done, all the noble Ladies of Rome assembled and repayred to Zenobia, and vsed vnto her great and honorable entertaynement, giuing hir many goodly presentes and rewards. And Zenobia liued in the company of those noble Matrons the space of.X.yeares before she dyed, in estimation like a Lucrecia, and in honour like a Cornelia. And if Fortune had acompanied hir personage, so well as vertue and magnanimity, Rome had felt the egrenesse of hir displeasure, and the whole world tasted the sweetnesse of hir Regiment. But nowe leaue we of, any longer to speak of Zenobia, that wee may direct our course to the hard fate of a King’s daughter, that for loue maried a simple person bred in hir father’s house, who in base parentage, and churlishe kynde coulde not be altered: but shewed the fruicts of brutishnesse: tyll Lady Fortune pityinge the Ladie’s case: prouided for her better dayes, and chastized her vnkinde companion with deserts condigne for sutch a matche.THE FIFTEENTH NOUELL.Evphimia the Kyng of Corinth’s daughter fell in love with Acharisto, the seruaunt of her father, and besides others which required hir in mariage, she disdayned Philon the King of Peloponesus, that loued hir very feruently. Acharisto conspiring against the Kyng, was discouered, tormented, and put in prison, and by meanes of Evphimia deliuered. The King promised his daughter and kingdome to him that presented the head of Acharisto, Evphimia so wrought, as hee was presented to the King. The King gaue him his daughter to wyfe and when he died made him his heyre. Acharisto began to hate his wyfe, and condemned hir to death as an adulteresse. Philon deliuered hir: and vpon the sute of hir subiects, she is contented to mary him, and therby he is made Kynge of Corinth:Constancyin honest loue (being a perfect vertue, and a precious ornament to the beloued, induinge eyther, besides ioy and contentacion, with immortall fame and Glory,) hath in it selfe these onely marks and properties to be knowen by, Chastity, and toleration of aduersity: For as the mynde is constant in loue, not variable, or geuen to chaunge, so is the body continent, comely, honest and pacient of Fortunes plages. A true constant minde is moued with no sugred persuasions of frendes, is diuerted with no eloquence, terrified with no threats, is quiet in all motions. The blustering blasts of parents wrath, cannot remoue the constant mayde from that which she hath peculiarly chosen to hir selfe. The rigorous rage of frendes, doth not dismay the louing man from the embracement of hir whom he hath amongs the rest selecte for his vnchanged feere. A goodly example of constant and noble loue this history ensuing describeth, although not like in both, yet in both a semblable constancy. For Euphimia, a kings daughter, abandoneth the great loue borne vnto hir by Philon, a yong prince, to loue a servant of hir father’s, with whom she perseuered in great constancy, for all his false and ingratefull dealings towards hir. Philon seeing his loue despised neuer maried vntill he maried hir,whom afterwards he deliuered from the false surmised treason of hir cancred and malicious husband. Euphimia fondly maried agaynst hir father’s will, and therefore deseruedly afterwards bare the penaunce of hir fault: and albeit she declared hir selfe to be constant, yet duty to louinge Father ought to haue withdrawen hir rash and heady loue. What daungers do ensue sutch like cases, examples be rife, and experience teacheth. A great dishonour it is for the Lady and Gentlewoman to disparage hir noble house with mariage of hir inferior: yea and great griefe to the parents to see their children obstinate and wilfull in carelesse loue. And albeit the Poet Propertius describeth the vehement loue of those that be noble, and haue wherewith in loue to be liberall, in these verses:Great is the fayth of Loue,the constant mynde doth mutch auayle:And hee that is well fraught with wealth,in Loue doth mutch preuayle.Yet the tender Damosell or louing childe, be they neuer so noble or rich, ought to attend the father’s tyme and choyse, and naturally encline to parent’s will and likinge, otherwise great harme and detriment ensue: for when the Parentes see the disobedience or rather rebellious mynde of theyr childe, their conceiued sorrow for the same, so gnaweth the rooted plante of naturall loue, as either it hastneth their vntimely death, or else ingendreth a heape of melancholie humors: whych force them to proclaime defiance and bytter cursse against their propre fruit, vpon whom (if by due regard they had bene ruled) they would haue pronounced the sweete blessyng that Isaac gaue to Iacob, the mother’s best beloued Boye: yea and that displeasure may chaunce to dispossesse them of that, whych should haue bene the onely comfort and stay of the future age. So that neglygence of parent’s hest, and carelesse heede of Youthfull head, breedeth double woe, but specially in the not aduised Chylde: who tumbleth himselfe first into the breach of diuine lawes, to the cursses of the same, to parent’s wrath, to orphan’s state, to begger’s lyfe, and into a sea of manifold miseries. In whom had obedyence ruled, and reason taken place, the hearte myght haue bene satisfied, the parent wel pleased: the lifeioyfully spent, and the posteritie successively tast the fruits that elders haue prepared. What care and sorrow, nay what extremetie the foresayde Noble Gentlewoman susteined, for not yelding to hir father’s minde, the sequele shall at large declare. There was sometimes in Corinth, a Citty of Grecia, a Kinge, which had a daughter called Euphimia, very tenderly beloued of hir father, and being arriued at the age of mariage, many Noble men of Grecia made sute to haue hir to wife. But amongs al, Philon the young king of Peloponesus, so fiercely fell in love wyth hir, as he thought he could no longer liue, if he were maried to anye other: for which cause her father knowing him to be a King, and of singular beautye, and that he was far in loue wyth his Daughter, would gladly haue chosen him to be his sonne in lawe, persuading hir that she should liue with him a lyfe so happy as was possyble for any noble lady matched wyth a Gentleman, were he neuer so honorable. But the daughter by no meanes would consent vnto hir father’s wyll, alleaging vnto him diuers and sundry consideracions wherby hir nature by no meanes would agree, nor heart consente to ioyne wyth Philon. The king aboue all worldly thynges loued his fayre daughter: and albeit hee would fayne haue broughte to passe, that she should haue taken him to husband, yet he would not vse the father’s authoritie, but desired that Loue rather than force should mach his daughter, and therfore for that tyme was contented to agree vnto hir wyll. There was in the Court a young man borne of hir Father’s bondman, whych hyght Acharisto, and was manumised by the kinge, who made him one of the Esquiers for hys body, and vsed his seruyce in sundrye enterpryses of the warres, and bicause hee was in those affayres very skilfull, of bolde personage, in conflicts and battayles very hardy, the king did very much fauor him, aswell for that he had defended him from manifold daungers, as also bycause he had deliuered him from the treason pretended against him by the kyng of the Lacedemonians: whose helpe and valyance, the king vsed for the murder and destruction of the sayde Lacedemonian king. For whych valiant enterpryse, he bountifully recompenced him wyth honorable prefermentes and stately reuenues. Vpon this yong man Euphimia fixed hir amorous eyes, and fell so farre in loue, as vpon him aloneshe bent hir thoughtes, and all hir louing cogitations. Whereof Acharisto being certified, and well espying and marking hir amorous lookes, nouryshed with lyke flames the fire wherewyth she burned. Notwythstanding his loue was not so feruently bent vpon hir personage, as his desire was ambicious for that she shoulde be hir father’s onely heyre, and therfore thought that he should be a most happy man, aboue al other of mortall kynde, if he myght possesse that inheritance. The king perceiuing that loue, told his daughter, that she had placed her minde in place so straunge, as hee had thought hir wysdome would haue more warely foreseen, and better wayed hir estate and birth, as com of a princely race, and would haue demed sutch loue, farre vnworthy hir degree: requiringe hir wyth fatherly words, to withdraw hir settled mynde and to ioyne with him in choyse of husbande, for that he had none other worldly heire but hir, and tolde hir how he ment to bestow hir vppon sutch a personage, as a most happy life she should leade, so long as the destenies were disposed to weaue the Webbe of her Predestined life: and therefore was resolved to Espouse hir vnto that noble gentleman Philon. Euphimia hearkned to this vnliked tale, and with vnliked words refused hir fathers hest, protesting vnto him sutch reasons to like effect as shee did before, therby to draw him from his conceiued purpose, wherunto the wise king hauing made replye, continuing his intended mynde, at length in ragyng wordes, and stormed mind, he sayd vnto Euphimia: “How mutch the sweter is the wyne, the sharper is the egred sawce thereof. I speake this Parable, for that thou not knowing or greatlye regarding the gentle disposition of thy father’s nature, in the ende mayst so abuse the same, as where hitherto he hath bene curteous and benigne, he may become through thy disordred deedes, ryghte sowre and sharpe:” and without vtterance of further talke, departed. Who resting euill content wyth that fonde fyxed Loue, thoughte that the next way to remedy the same, was to tell Acharisto how greuously he toke his presumed fault, and in what heinous parte he conceiued his ingratitude, and how for the benefits which liberally he had bestowed vpon him, he had broughte and enticed hys daughter to loue him, that was farre vngreeable her estate. And therforehe called hym before hym, and with reasons firste declared the duetye of a faythfull seruaunt to his Soueraigne lord, and afterwards hee sayd: That if the receyued benefits were not able to lette him know what were conuenient and seemely for hys degree, but would perseuere in that which he had begon, he would make him feele the iust displeasure of a displeased Prince, whereby hee shoulde repent the tyme that euer hee was borne of Woman’s wombe. These woordes of the Kyng seemed greeuous to Acharisto, and not to moue hym to further anger hee seemed as though that (being fearfull of the Kyng’s displeasure) he did not loue his daughter at all, but sayd vnto hym, that he deserued not to bee so rebuked, for that it lay not in his power to wythstand hir loue, the same procedyng of hir own good wyll and lyberty: and that hee for his part neuer requyred loue: if shee did bend hir mynd to loue hym, hee could not remedye that affection, for that the freewyll of sutch vnbrydled appetite rested not in hym to reforme. Notwythstandyng, bycause he vnderstoode hys vnwyllyng mind, he from that tyme forth would so endeuor hymselfe as he shoulde well perceyue that the vnstayde mynde of the young gentlewoman Euphimia, was not incensed by hym, but voluntarily conceyued of hir selfe. “You shall doe well” (sayde the kyng) “if the effecte procede accordinge to the promise: and the more acceptable shall the same bee vnto mee, for that I desyre it shoulde so come to passe.” The king liked wel these words although that Acharisto had conceiued within the plat of his entended mind, som other treason. For albeit that he affirmed before the kyng’s owne face, that hee would not loue his daughter, yet knowing the assured wil of the louyng gentlewoman, hee practised the mariage, and like an vnkind and wretched man, deuised conuenient tyme to kil him: and fully bent to execute that cruel enterpryse, he attempted to corrupt the chiefest men about him, promising promocions vnto some, to some he assured restitucion of reuenewes, which by father’s fault they had lost beefore, and to other golden hilles, so that hee mighte attayne by slaughter of the king, to wynne a kingly state and kingdome: which the sooner he peruaded himself to acquire, if in secrete silence, they coulde put vp that which by generall voice they had agreed. And althoughthey thought themselues in good assurance, that theyr enterpryse could take no ill successe, by reason of their sounde and good discourse debated amonges themselues for the accomplishement thereof, yet it fortuned that one of the conspiracy (as commonlye in sutch lyke trayterous attemptes it chaunceth) beeynge wyth hys beloued Ladye, and shee makyng mone that little Commodytye succeeded of hir Loue for hir Aduauncement, brake out into these wordes: “Hold thy peace” (sayde hee:) “for the tyme wyll not bee longe before thou shalt bee one of the chiefest Ladies of this land.” “Howe can that bee?” (sayde hys Woman.) “No more adoe?” (quod the Gentleman:) “Cease from further questions, and bee merrye: for wee shall enioye together, a verye Honourable and a quyete Lyfe.” When hir Louer was departed, the gentlewoman went to an other of hir gossips very iocunde, and tolde hir what hir Louer had sayd: and shee then not able to keepe Counsell, wente and tolde an other: in such wyse as in the ende it came to the eares of the King’s steward’s wyfe, and she imparted the same vnto hir husband, who marking those words, like a man of great wisedome and experience, did verily beleue that the same touched the daunger of the king’s person: and as a faythfull seruant to his lorde and maister, diligently harkned to the mutteringe talke murmured in the Court, by him which had tolde the same to his beloued Lady: and knowinge that it proceeded from Acharisto, which was an obstinate and sedicious varlet, and that he with three or four other his familiars, kept secret company in corners, iuged that which he first coniectured, to be most certayne and true: wherefore determined to moue the king thereof, and vpon a day finding him alone, he sayd vnto him, that the fidelity and good will wherewith he serued him, and the desire which he had to see hym lyue in longe and prosperous Estate, made hym to attend to the salfegard of hys person, and to hearken vnto sutch as should attempt to daunger the same: for which cause, marking and espying the doings of certayne of his chamber (whose common assemblies and priuy whisperings mislyking) he feared least they conspiring with Acharisto, shoulde worcke treason, for berieuinge of his life: and to th’ intent their endeuours might be preuented, and his safety foreseene, he thought good to reueale the same tohys Maiesty. Then he tolde the King the words that were spoken by the first Gentlewoman, to one or two of her companions, and disclosed the presumptions which he had seene and perceyued touchinge the same. Amongs the ill conditions of men, there is nothinge more common than Poyson, Conspiracies, and Treason of Prynces and great Lordes: and therefore euery little suspicion presuming sutch perill, is a great demonstration of lyke myschiefe: which made the Kyng to geue credit to the Woords of hys Steward, hauing for hys long experience knowen him to be faythfull, and trusty. And sodaynly he thought that Acharisto attempted the same, that after hys death, by mariage of Euphimia, he might be the Inheritour of hys Kyngdome: the beliefe whereof, and the singular credite which he reposed in hys Steward, besides other thinges, caused hym to commaund the captayne of hys Guard to apprehend those 4 of whom hys Steward told hym, and Acharisto, committinge them to seuerall Prisons. Then he sent hys Officers to examyne them, and found vpon their confessions, the accusation of his steward to be true: but Acharisto, although the whole effecte of the Treason was confessed by those foure conspirators that were apprehended, and aduouched to his Face, and for all the Tormentes wherewith he was racked and cruciated, yet still denied, that eyther he was authour of the enterprise, or partaker of a treason so wicked: then the king incontinently caused the foure Gentlemen of hys Chamber to be rewarded accordinge to the worthinesse of their offence, and were put to death, and Acharisto to be repryued in sharpe and cruell prison, vntill with torments he should be forced to confesse that which he knew to be most certayne and true by the euidence of those that were done to death. Euphimia for the imprisonment of Acharisto, conceiued incredible sorrow, and vneths could be persuaded, that hee would imagine, mutch lesse conspyre, that abhominable fact, aswell for the loue which Acharisto seemed to beare vnto hir, as for the great good wyl wherewith he was assured that she bare vnto hym, and therefore the death of the kyng to be no lesse griefe vnto him, than the same woulde be to hir selfe, the Kyng being hir naturall and louing father: Acharisto thought on the other side, that if hee might speake with Euphimia, a way would be founde eyther for hysescape, or else for hys delyuery. Whereupon Acharisto beinge in this deliberation, found meanes to talke wyth the Iaylor’s wyfe, and intreated hir to shewe hym so mutch fauour, as to procure Euphimia to come vnto him: she accordingly brought to passe, that the yong Gentlewoman in secrete wise came to speake wyth thys trayterous varlet, who so soone as he sawe hir, shedinge from hys eyes store of teares, pitifully complayninge, sayd vnto hir: “I know Euphimia, that the kinge your father doth not inclose me in this cruell prison, ne yet afflicteth me wyth these miserable torments, for any suspicion he conceyueth of me for any intended fact, but only for the loue which I beare you, and for the like, (for whych I render humble thanks) that you do beare to me: and because that I am wery of this wretched state, and know that nothing else can rid me from this paynefull Lyfe, but onely death, I am determined wyth myne owne propre hands to cut the threed of life wherewith the destinies hitherto haue prolonged the same, that thys my breathinge Ghoast, which breatheth forth these doleful playntes, may flee into the Skyes, to rest it selfe amonges the restfull spirites aboue, or wandre into the pleasaunte hellish fieldes, amongs the shadows of Creusa, Aeneas wyfe, or else wyth the ghost of complayning Dido. But ere I did the same, I made myne humble prayer to the maiesty diuine, that hee would vouchsafe to shew me so much grace, as before I dye, I myghte fulfil my couetous eyes with sight of you, whose ymage still appeareth before those greedy Gates, and fansie representeth vnto my myndfull heart. Which great desired thing, sith God aboue hath graunted, I yeld him infinit thankes, and sith my desteny is sutch, that sutch must be the end of loue, I doe reioyce that I muste dye for your sake, which only is the cause that the King your father so laboureth for my death: I neede not to molest you wyth the false euidence giuen against me, by those malicious villaines, that be already dead, which onely hath thus incensed the Kinge’s Wrathe and heauy rage agaynst mee: whereof I am so free, as worthilye they bee executed for the same: for if it were so, then true it is, (and as lyghtly you myght beleue) that I neuer knew what Loue you beare mee, and you lykewyse did neuer knowe, the loue I bare to you: and therefore you may thinke that so impossible is theone, as I dyd euer meane, thinke, or ymagine any harme or peryll to your father’s person. To be short, I humbly do besech you to beleue, that so faythfully as man is able to loue a woman, so haue I loued you: and that it may please you to bee so myndfull of me in thys fadyng Lyfe, as I shal be of you in that life to come.” And in sayinge so, wyth face all bathed in teares, he clypped hir about the myddle, and fast imbracing hir said: “Thus takinge my last farewell of you (myne onely life and ioy) I commende you to the gouernement of the supernall God, and my selfe to death, to be dysposed as pleaseth him.” Euphimia, which before was not persuaded that Acharisto was guylty of that deuised Treason, nowe gaue full belyefe and credite to his wordes, and Weeping wyth him for company, comforted him so wel as she could, and bidding him to bee of good chere, she sayde, that she would seeke such meanes as for hir sake and loue he should not dye: and that before longe time did passe, shee would help him out of prison. Acharisto, although he vttered by ruful voice that lamentable talke, for remedye to ridde himselfe from pryson, yet he did but fayne all that he spake, addyng further: “Alas, Euphimia, do not incurre your Father’s wrath to please my minde: suffer me quietly to take that death, which sinister Fortune and cruell fate hath prouided to abridge my dayes.” Euphimia, vanquished with inspeakable griefe and burning passion of loue, said: “Ah, Acharisto, the onely ioy and comfort of my lyfe, do not pierce my heart with such displeasant wordes: for what should I do in this wretched world, yf you for my sake should suffre death? Wherfore put away that cruel thought, and be content to saue your Lyfe, that hereafter in ioye and myrth you may spend the same: trusting that yf meanes may be founde for your dispatche from hence, we shal liue the reste of our prolonged Lyfe together, in sweete and happy dayes: for my Father is not made of stone flint, nor yet was nourced of Hircan Tigre: he is not so malicious but that in tyme to come hee may be made to know the true discourse of thine innocent life, and hope thou shalt atteyne his fauour more than euer thou didst before, the care whereof onely leaue to me, and take no thought thy selfe: for I make promise vpon myne assured faith to brynge the same to passe: wherefore giue ouer thy conceyuedgryefe, and bende thy selfe to lyue so merie a life, as euer gentleman did, trained vp in court as thou hast bene.” “I am content,” said Acharisto, “thus to doe. The Gods forbid that I should declyne my hearte and mynde from thy behest, who of thy wonted grace doest seeke continuance of my Lyfe, but rather, sweete Euphimia, than thou shouldest suffre any daunger to performe thy promise, I make request (for the common loue betwene vs both) to leaue me in this present dangerous state: rather would I lose my lyfe than thou shouldest hazard the least heare of thy heade for my releefe.” “Wee shall be both salfe ynough, (aunswered Euphimia) for my deuice proceedinge from a woman’s heade, hath already drawen the plot of thy deliueraunce.” And with those wordes they both did end their talke, whose trickling teares did rather finishe the same, than willing mynds: and eyther of them geeuing a kysse vnto the Tower Walle, wherein Acharisto was fast shutte, Euphimia departed turmoyled wyth a Thousande amorous Pryckes, and ceased not but firste of all to corrupt and winne the Iayler’s Wyfe, whose husband was sent forth on businesse of the king’s: the conclusion of which practise was, that when shee caried meate to Acharisto, according to the order appoynted, she should fayne hirselfe to be violently dispoyled of the Pryson Key by Acharisto, who taking the same from hir: should shut hir in the Prison and escape, and when hir husband did returne, shee should make complaynt of the violence done vnto hir: accordinge to which deuise, the practyse was accomplished: And when hir husbande returned home, hearing his wyfe crie out within the Tower, was maruayllously amazed, and vnderstandinge that Acharisto was fled, (ignoraunt of the pollicy betwene his Wyfe and Euphemia,) hee fell into great rage, and speedely repayred to the Kynge, and tolde him what had chaunced. The Kinge thinking that the breach of Prison was rather through the woman’s simplicity than purposed malice, did mitigate his displeasure, howbeit forthwith he sent out scouts to spy, and watch into what place Acharisto was gone, whose secret flight, made all their trauayle to be in vayne. Then the Kinge when hee saw that he could not be found, made Proclamation throughout his realme, that who so would bringe vnto him the head of Acharisto, should haue to Wyfe hys onely Daughter, andafter hys decease shoulde possesse his Kingdome for Dowry of that mariage. Many knightes did put themselues in redinesse to atchieue that enterprise, and aboue al, Philon was the chiefe, not for gredinesse of the kingdome, but for loue which hee bare vnto the Gentlewoman. Whereof Acharisto hauinge intelligence, and perceyuinge that in no place of Europa hee could bee safe and sure from daunger, for the multitude of them which pursued him vnto death, caused Euphimia to vnderstand the miserable Estate wherein hee was. Euphimia which bent hir minde, and employed hir study for his safegarde, imparted hir loue which shee bare to Acharisto, to an aged Gentlewoman, which was hir nurse and gouernesse, and besought hir that she would intreat hir sonne called Sinapus, (one very well beloued of the king) to reach his help vnto hir desire, that Acharisto might retourne to the court agayn. The Nourse like a wyse woman lefte no persuasion vnspoken, nor counsell vnremembred, which she thought was able to dissuade the yong gentlewoman from hir conceiued loue: but the wound was so deepely made, and hir hearte so greuously wounded with the three forked arrows of the little blinde archer Cupide, that despising all the reasons of hir beloued nurse, shee sayde, how she was firmely bent eyther to runne from hir father, and to seke out Acharisto, to sustaine wyth him one equall fortune, or else with hir owne hands to procure death, if some remedy were not found to recouer the king’s good grace for the returne of Acharisto. The Nurse vanquished with pity of the yong mayden, fearinge both the one and the other daunger that myght ensue, sent for Sinapus, and vppon their talke together, Euphimia and hee concluded, that Acharisto should bee brought agayne vnto the Courte, and that she hir selfe should present him to the King: wherein should want no kinde of diligence vntill the Kyng did entertayne him agayne for his faythfull seruaunt, as he was wont to do. Vpon which resolution, Acharisto was sent for, and being come, Sinapus and Euphimia together with the nurse tolde hym in what sort they three had concluded touchinge his health and safegarde: which of him being well lyked, did giue them humble thankes: and then Sinapus went vnto the kyng, and told him, that there was one newly arriued at Corinth, to make a present vnto his grace of the head ofAcharisto. At which newes the kynge shewed hymselfe so ioyfull, as if hee had gotten an other Kingdome: and beinge placed vnder his cloath of state, with his Counsell and Princely trayne about hym, tellinge them the cause of that assembly, commaunded hym that brought those news, to bring the party forth newely come vnto the City to present the head of Acharisto before the presence of the King, who no sooner looked vpon him, but fell into sutch a rage, as the fire seemed to flame out of his angry eyes, and commaunded him presently to be taken and put to death. But Acharisto falling downe vpon hys knees, humbly besought his maiesty to geeue him leaue to speake: but the kinge not suffering him to vtter one word commaunded hym away. Then the Counsellours and other Lords of the Court, intreated his grace to heare him: at whose requestes and supplications he seemed to be content. Then Acharisto began to say: “Most sacred Prynce, and redoubted souerayne Lord, the cause of this my presumptuous repaire before your maiesty, is not to shew my selfe guilty of thy late deuised conspiracy, ne yet to craue pardon for the same, but to satisfie your Maiesty, wyth that contented desire, whych by Proclamation ye haue pronounced through your highnesse Realmes and dominions: which is, to offer this heade for reuenge of the faulte vniustlye layed vnto my charge by those foure, which worthily haue tasted the deserued payne of theyr offense. Wherfore I am come hither of myne owne accord, to shew the loue and greate desyre, whych euer I had to serue and please your Maiesty: and for that I would not consume my life in your displeasure, I make offer of the same to your mercifull wyll and dysposition, chosynge rather to die, and leaue your maiesty satisfied and contented, than to lyue in happy state, your princely minde displeased: but desyrous that your maiesty should know myne innocence, I humblye besech your grace to heare what I can say, that my fidelity maye bee throughly vnderstanded, and the wickednesse of the Varlets, mine accusers wel wayed and considered.” Then he began to rehearse all the things done by hym for the seruyce of his crowne and maiestye, and finally into what daunger he did put himself, when he kylled the Lacedemonian king, that went about by treason to murder him: whych enterpryse might appeare vntohim to bee a sure and euident testimony, that hee ment nothinge hurtfull or preiudiciall to his highnesse: and that hee esteemed not his life, when hee aduentured for his seruice and sauegard to employ the same: and after these alleaged causes, he added briefly, that the loue which his maiesty knew to be betweene him and Euphimia his Daughter, ought to haue persuaded him, that he had rather haue suffered death himselfe, than commit a thing displeasant to Euphimia. And knowing that a more offensive thynge coulde not chaunce to hir, than the vilent death of her father, hee myghte well thyncke that hee woulde haue deuysed the death of a Thousande other, rather than that horible and abhominable deede, sutch as hys greatest Ennemy woulde neuer haue done, mutch lesse hee whych was bounde vnto hym by so many Receyued Benefittes, for whose seruice and preseruacion he had dedicated and vowed hys Lyfe and Soule: but if so be his maiestie’s rancor and displeasure could not be mitigated, but by doinge him to death, hee desired that none of his alleaged reasons should bee accepted, and therefore was there ready to sacrifice his life at his maiestie’s disposition and pleasure. Acharisto by nature could tel his tale excedingly well, and the more his tongue stode him in seruice, the greater appeared his eloquence: whych so pierced the minde of the king and persuaded the Counsellers, and other of the Court, as he was demed giltlesse of the treason: and the matter was so debated, and the King intreated to graunt him pardon, as he was accompted most worthy of his fauour. Then the kyng, by the aduise of hys Counsell, was perswaded, that by force of hys proclamation, hys daughter should be giuen to Acharisto in mariage, and his kingedome for a dowrie, bicause hee had offered his owne heade, accordyng to the effecte of the same. So the kinge repentinge himselfe that he had offended Acharisto, in the end agreed to the aduise of his Counsell, and gaue him his daughter to wife: whereof Euphimia was so ioyful, as they bee that atteyne the summe of their heart’s desire. The father liued one whole yeare after this mariage, and Euphimia so pleasant a life for a certaine time, as was possible for any Gentlewoman. Hir father was no sooner dead, but the vnkinde man, nay rather brute beaste, had forgotten all the benefits receyued of his kinde and louing wife: and hauing by hir onelyemeanes got a Kingdome, began to hate hir so straungely, as he could not abide hir sight, (sutch is the property of cancred obliuion, which after it crepeth into ambicious heads, neuer hath minde of passed amitie, ne regardeth former benefite, but like a monster and deadly ennimy to humaine nature, ouerwhelmeth in his bottomlesse gulfe all pietie and kindnesse) and determined in the ende for recompence of sutch great good turnes, to despoyle hir of hir Lyfe. Howe thinke you, fayre Ladies, was not this a fayre rewarde for the loue, the trauailes and sorrowes susteined for this ingrate and villanous man, by that royal lady, to saue his life, and to take him to husband? Here is manifest (probatum) that in a vile and seruyle minde, no vertue, no duety, no receiued benefites can be harboured. Here is a lesson for yong Gentlewomen to beware howe they contemne and despise the graue aduise of theyr auncient fathers. Here they may see the damage and hurt that vnaduised youth incurreth, when neglectyng theyr Parents holesome admonitions, they gyue themselues to the loue of sutch as be vnworthy theyr estate and callyng. For what should ayle the Gentle pucell borne of gentle bloud but to match her selfe in like affinity, and not to care for curryshe kind, or race of churle. Bee there no Gentlemen to be found of personage and beauty worthy to ioyne in loue wyth them? Bee they so precious in nature or tender in education as theyr lyke can not be vouchsafed to couple in mariage yoke? Compare the glysteringe gold to drossie durte, and sutch is the difference betweene gentle and vngentle. But perhaps bringyng vp may alter nature, and custome transforme defect of birth: as Licurgus the lawemaker dyd trye betwene the Currish whelpe and the Spanyell kinde, both by trayning vp running to their contraries, the Spanyel not vsed to hunt eigre vpon the potage dishe, the other nouseled in that pastime pursuing his game. But that Metamorphosis is seldome seene amongs humane sort, and therfore I aduise the gentle kind, to matche themselues in equall lotte, and not to trust Sir Custome’s curtesie in choyse of feere. Returne we then to vnkind Acharisto, who now in full possession of his desired praie, reuertinge to his puddle of carlishe will and cancred nature, after many thousand wronges don to his most noble and gentle Quene, accused hir to be an adulteresse, and as one indeede,(although most innocent) she was condemned to the mercilesse fire. Philon, Kyng of Peloponesus, which (as we haue sayd before) loued Euphimia as he did the balles of his owne eyes, vnderstanding the crueltye that this wicked Man vsed towards hir, to whom both his lyfe and Kyngdome did belonge, moued wyth nobility of mynd, determined to declare to Euphimia the inward feruent loue which he bare hir, and to chastise Acharisto for his ingratitude with due correction. Wherfore depely debating wyth himselfe of this aduenture, thus he sayde: “Now is the time Euphimia, that Philon shewe what faythful Loue he hath euer borne vnto thee, and that he delyuer thee both from the present daunger wherein thou art, and from the hands of that vnkynde wretche, that is farre vnworthy of sutch a wife: for if thou haddest agreed to thy father’s wyll, and yelded to the pursute of him that loued thee beste, thou haddest no neede of rescue nowe, ne yet bene in perill of the wastfull flames of fire, which be ready to consume thy flesh and tender corps, full tenderly sometimes beloued of thy deare father, and of thy louyng frend Philon.” When he had spoken those wordes, hee earnestly disposed him self vpon that enterpryse. There was in those daies a custome in Corinth, that they which were condemned to death, were cariedIII.miles forth of the City, and there the sentence pronounced against them, were put to execution. Philon hauyng intelligence hereof, did put in readinesse a good troupe of horsemen, and being secretly imbarked, arriued at Corinth, and closely the nyght before Euphimia should be brought to the fire, harde by the place where the miserable Lady should be burnt, into a woode he conueyed his People: and so soone as the Sergeants and officers were approched neere the place wyth the lady, he issued forth, and did set vpon the throng, not sufferyng one of them to remayne aliue, to carye newes. When he had delyuered Euphimia from that present daunger of hir lyfe, and the companye dispercled, he sayd to the Queene: “Nowe thou mayst see (fayre Queene) the diuersitie, betwene the disloyaltie and vnkindenesse of Acharisto, and the faith and loue of Philon. But for that I meane not to leaue hys ingratitude vnrevenged, thou shalt staye here, vntyll thou heare newes of the due chastisment which I shall gyue hym.” Thosedire and cruell words foretold of hir husband’s death moued hir honest and Pryncely hearte that by no meanes could bee altered from the gentle nature, which it first had tasted and receiued: and althoughe shee had suffred Mortall and Solempne iniury of hir vnkynde husbande for Manyfolde Benefites, yet (shee good gentlewoman) woulde permyt no duetye of a trustye and faythfull Wyfe vnperformed. Wherefore shee besoughte Philon vpon her knees, not to procede to further reuenge of Acharisto, telling him, that enough it was for hir to haue escaped that present peryl, from which he like a princely Gentleman had deliuered hir, and therefore duering hir life was most bounde vnto him. Philon greately wondred at the goodnesse of this Ladie: howbeit the ingratitude of that Varlet by no meanes he would suffer to bee vnpunished. And beeing aduertised that Acharisto remayned in hys Palace without any suspicion of this aduenture, banded neyther with Guarde or other assurance, committed Euphimia to safe custodie, and sodainly assailed the Palace of Acharisto: and finding the Gates open, he entred the city, crying out vpon the Wickednesse and treason of Acharisto. At which wordes the whole City began to ryse, to helpe Philon in his enterpryse: for there was no state or degree, but abhorred the vnkind order of that Varlet, towards the noble woman their Queene. Philon aided with the people, assaulted the Palace, and in short space inuaded the same: and the Varlet beeing apprehended, was put to death. The Corinthians seeing the noble mind of Philon, and the loue which he bare to Euphimia, and knowing that their late Kyng was disposed to haue matched her wyth Philon, were very willing to haue him to be their Kinge, and that Euphimia should be his wife, supposinge that vnder the gouernement of a Prynce so gentle and valiant, they might liue very happily and ioyefullye. Execution don vpon that moste vnkinde varlet, Philon caused the Lady to be conueyed home into hir royal pallace: and the people with humble submission, began to persuade hir to marie wyth that younge Prince Philon. But shee which had lodged hir thoughts and fixed hir mind vpon that caytife, who vnnaturally had abused hir, would by no meanes consent to take a new husband, saying, that the seconde mariage was not to bee allowed in any woman. And albeit that sheeknewe howe greately she was bounde to Philon, as duringe life not able to recompence his louing kindnesse and valyante exployte performed for hir safegard, yet for al hir vnhappy fortune, shee was minded styll to remayne a widowe, and well contented that Philon shoulde possesse hir whole domynion and kingdome, and she pleased to lyue his subiecte: which state she sayd, did like her best. Philon, that not for desire of the Kingdome, but for loue of the Lady had attempted that worthy and honourable enterprise, sayd vnto hir: “Euphimia, it was onely for youre sake that I aduentured thys daungerous indeuor, to ridde you from the slander that might haue ensued your innocent death, and out of the cruel hands of hym, whom vnworthily you did so dearely loue. No desyre of kyngdome or worldly glorye induced me herevnto: no care that I had to enlarge the boundes of my countrey soile pricked the courage of my mynd (that is altogether empty of ambytion) but the Passion of carelesse Loue, whych thys long tyme I haue borne you in your happy father’s dayes, to whom I made incessant sute: and to your selfe I was so long a Suter, vntyll I receyued extreame repulse: for which I vowed a perpetuall single Lyfe, vntyll thys occasyon was offred: the brute whereof when I hearde first, so stirred the mynde of your most louyng knight, that drousie sleepe or greedy hunger, coulde not force this restlesse body to tarry at home, vntyl I reuenged my selfe vpon that villaine borne, which went about wyth roasting flames to consume the innocente flesh of hir whome I loued best. And therfore mustred together my men of armes and in secret sort imbarked our selues and arryued here: where wee haue accomplished the thyng we came for and haue settled you in quiet raygne, free from peryl of traiterous mindes, crauing for thys my fact nought else of you but wylling mynd to be my wife: which sith you do refuse, I passe not for rule of your kyngdom, ne yet for abode in Corinth, but meane to leaue you to your choyse. For satisfied am I, that I haue manifested to the world the greatnesse of my loue, which was so ample as euer king could beare to vertuous Queene: and so farewell.” At which words he made a signe to his people, that they shoulde shippe them selues for return to Peloponesus. But the Senatours and al the people of Corinth seing the curtesie of Philon,and how greatly their Queene was bound vnto him, fel downe vpon their knees, and with ioyned hands besought hir to take him to husbande, neuer ceasing from teares and supplication, vntyl she had consented to their requeste. Then the mariage was solempnised with great ioy and triumph, and the whole City after that tyme, lyued in great felicity and quiet, so long as nature lengthned the dayes of those two Noble Prynces.THE SIXTEENTH NOUELL.The Marchionisse of Monferrato, with a banket of Hennes, and certaine pleasant wordes, repressed the fond loue of Philip the French Kynge.GoodEuphimia (as you haue harde) did fondly apply hir loue vpon a seruile man, who though bred vp in court where trayninge and vse doth alter the rude conditions of sutch as be intertayned there, yet voyde of all gentlenesse, and frustrate of Nature’s sweetenesse in that curteous kinde, as not exchaunginge natiue fiercenesse for noble aduauncement, returned to hys hoggish soyle, and walowed in the durty filth of Inhumanity,whose nature myght wel with fork, or staffe be expelled, but home againe it would haue come, as Horace pleadeth in his Epistles. O noble Gentlewoman, that mildly suffred the displeasure of the good king hir father, who would fayne haue dissuaded hir from that vnseemely match, to ioyne with a yong Prince, a king, a Gentleman of great perfection: and O pestilent Carle, being beloued of so honourable a pucell, that for treason discharged thy head from the block, and of a donghill slaue preferred thee to be a king, wouldest for those deserts in the ende frame sayned matter to consume hir. With iust hatred then did the Noble Emperour Claudius Cæsar prosecute those of bond and seruile kinde that were matched with the free and noble. Right well knew hee that some taste of egrenesse would rest in sutch sauage fruite, and therefore made a law, that the issue of them should not haue like liberty and preheminence, as other had, which agreeably did couple. What harme sutch mariage hath deferred to diuers states and persons (t’auoide other examples) the former Nouell teacheth. Wherfore to ende the same, with bewailing of Euphimia for hir vnluckie lot, begin we now to glad our selues with the wise and stoute aunswer of a chaste Marquesse, a Gentlewoman of singular beauty and discretion, made to the fond demaund of a mighty Monarch, that fondly fell in loue with hir, and made a reckening of that, which was doubtfull to recouer. This king by Louing Hir whome he neuer saw,fared like the man that in his slepe dreamed that he had in holde the thynge furthest from him. For the King neuer saw hir, before he heard hir praised, and when hee hearde hir praised, for purpose to winne her, he trauailed oute of his way, so sure to enioy hir, as if he had neuer seene hir. This historie, although briefe, yet sheweth light to noble dames that be pursued by Prynces, and teacheth them wyth what regarde they ought to interteine such suters. The Marquesse then of Monferrato, a citye in Italy, beynge a Gentleman of great prowesse and valiance, was appointed to transfrete the Seas in a generall passage made by the Christians, wyth an huge Armie and great furniture. And as it chaunced, vpon a day greate talke was had in the court of king Philip surnamed Luscus (bicause he was poreblinde) who likewyse was making preparation to depart out of Fraunce in the said iorney. Report was made by a knight which knewe the said Marquize, that in all the world there was not the like maried couple, as the Marquize and his wyfe were, as well bicause the Marquize was bruted to be an excellent gentleman, as also for that his wyfe amonges al the troupe of Ladies, that liued in the world that time, was the fairest and most vertuous. Which words so entred the French king’s head, as sodainely (neuer seeing hir in all his life) he began to loue hir, and for that purpose determined to imbarke him selfe at Genoua, that by trauailyng that way by lande, he myght haue good occasion to see the Marchionisse, thinking that her husband being absent, hee might easily obtein that he desired. And as he had deuised, he began his enterpryse: who sending al his power before, toke his iorney wyth a meane trayne of Gentlemen: and beynge within one Daye’s iourney of the Ladye’s House, hee sent hir worde that the nexte Daye hee would visite her at Dynner. The sage and discrete lady ioyfully aunswered the Messanger, that she would accompt his comming for a great and singuler pleasure, and sayd that hys grace should be most heartily welcome. Afterwards she maruelled why sutch a king as he was, would in hir husband’s absence, come to hir house: and in that maruel and consideration she was no whit deceyued, coniecturinge that the fame of hir beauty was the cause of hys comminge. Neuerthelesse, like a wise Lady and honest gentlewoman, shedetermined to do him honour, and caused the worshipfull of hir country sutch as remayned behinde, to be assembled, for aduice in all thinges that were necessary for hys intertaynement. But the feast and variety of meats that should be serued, she alone tooke vppon hir to dispose and order: wherefore speedily sendinge about, and makinge prouision for all the Hennes that might be gotten throughout the countrey, commaunded hir cookes, of those Hennes without other thing what so euer, to prepare diuers seruices. The king fayled not the next day to come accordingly as he had sent word: and was with great honour receyued of the Lady, and in beholdinge hir, she seemed vnto hym (besides hys imagination comprehended by the former woordes of the Knyght) to be farre more faire, honest and vertuous, than hee thought, attributyng vnto hir, singular prayse and commendation. And so much the more his desire was kindled, as she passed the estimation bruted of hir. And after that the King had wythdrawen him selfe into the chamber ordeined and made ready for him, as appertained to a Prynce so greate, and that dinner time was come, the King and Madame the Marchionisse sat together at one boorde, and other accordyng to their degrees were placed at seueral tables. The King serued with many Dishes and excellent Wynes, beholdinge sometymes the Lady Marchionesse, conceyued great delight and pleasure. But vewing the seruice, and meates (although dressed in diuers sortes) to be but Hennes, he began to wonder, specially knowing the soyle wherein they were to be so rich and plentifull, as by little trauayle, great abundance of Foule and Venison might haue bin prouided, and thought that she had indifferent leysure to Chase and Hunt, after that he had sent hir woorde of hys comminge. Notwythstandinge he would not take occasion to enter into talke of those wants of better Cheare (hir Hennes only excepted) who lookyng vpon hir, with mery Countenaunce hee sayde vnto hir: “Madame were all these Hennes bred in thys countrey wythout a Cock?” The Marchionisse which full well vnderstoode the cause of his demaunde, thinkinge that God had sent hir an apt tyme for aunswere as she desired, boldly aunswered the Kinge: “No and it please your grace, but of Women, albeit in honour and apparell there is some difference, yet they be al made in this Countreyas they be else where.” The kyng hearing hir aunswere, right wel did know the occasion of the Banket of Hennes, and whereunto hir wordes did tend: and considred that to bestow any further talke to so wyse a Lady, it were in vayne, and that force there could take no place. Lyke as vnaduisedly he fell in loue, so it behoued him of necessity wysely to staunch the fire for his honour sake, and wythout any more taunting wordes, fearing hir reuenge, he dined without hope to get other thinge of hir. And when hee had done, to the intent by hys sodayne departure, he might couer his dishonest comming, thankinge hir for the honour which he had receyued, and she recommending him to God, he departed to Genoua. Here may be proued the great difference betweene Wysedome and Folly, betweene Vertue and Vice. The King more by Lust, than other desire, by circumstances endeuoured to sound the deapth of the Ladie’s minde: she by comely answere, payd hym home for his folly. A liuely representation of a noble creature, so well bedecked wyth Vertue as wyth Beauty.THE SEUENTEENTH NOUELL.Mistresse Dianora demaunded of maister Ansaldo a garden so faire in Ianuary, as in the moneth of May. Mayster Ansaldo (by meanes of an obligation which he made to a Nicromancer) caused the same to bee done. The husband agreed with the gentlewoman that she should do the pleasure which maister Ansaldo required, who hearinge the liberality of the husband, acquited hir of hir promise, and the Necromancer discharged maister Ansaldo.Ofall things commonly accompanying the maner and trade of man’s life, nothing is more circumspectly to be attended and prouided for, than regard and estimation of honesty: which attire, as it is most excellent, and comely, so aboue al other vayne Toyes of outward apparell to bee preferred: and as honesty hath all other good Conditions included in it selfe, as the same by any meanes cannot stray out of that tract, troden before by the steppes of that most excellent vertue: euen so, impossible it is for the party adorned with the same, to wander one iote from that foretrodden Path: wherefore let eche wyght that traceth this worldly Lyfe, foresee the due obseruation of all thinges incident to that which is honest. Nothinge in thys lyfe (sayth Tully in his oration, for the Poet Archias) is so mutch to bee regarded. Honesty, for the gettinge whereof all torments of body, all perills and daungers of death be not to be regarded: honesty then beinge a Treasure so precious, what care not onely for the atchieuinge but for the conseruation ought to bee employed? in the practise whereof, one speciall thinge ought to be attended, which is, how a vow or promise ought to be made, or how the estimation of honesty ought to be hazarded for any thinge seeme it neuer so impossible: for what is it that loue and Money hath not brought to passe? what heard aduentures by Iason? what sleight by Alexander the Sonne of kynge Pryamus? what monsters slayne and labours sustaynedby Hercules? what daungers and exploits some haue incurred and other attempted by diuers? to bee short,

Aurelianus Emperour of Rome and Lord of al Asia, to the right honorable Zenobia sendeth greetyng. Although to such rebellyous Women as thou art, it should seeme vncomely and not decente to make request, yet if thou wylt seeke ayde of my mercy, and rendre thy selfe vnder myne obedience, bee assured that I wyll doe thee honour, and geue pardon to thy people. The Golde, Siluer, and other riches, within thy Pallace I am content thou shalt enioy, together with the kingdome of Palmyres, which thou mayest keepe duringe thy life, and leaue after thy death to whom thou shalt think good, vpon condicion notwithstandinge, that thou abandone all thine other Realmes and Countryes which thou haste in Asia, and acknowledge Rome to be thy superior. Of thy vassalls, and subiectes of Palmyres, we demaund none other obedience, but to be confederates and frendes, so that thou breake vp thy Campe, wherewyth thou makest warre in Asia, and disobeyest the city of Rome, wee willsuffer thee to haue a certayne number of men of warre, so wel for the tuicion of thy person, as for the defence of thy kingdome, and thy two Children which thou haddest by thy husbande Odenatus. And he whom thou louest best shal remayne with thee in Asia, and the other I will carry with me to Rome, not as prisoner, but as hostage and pleadge from thee. The prisoners which thou hast of ours, shalbe rendred in exchange for those which we haue of thine, without raunsome of eyther parts.And by these meanes thou shalt remayne honored in Asia, and I contented, will retourne to Rome. The Gods be thy defence, and preserue our mother the city of Rome from all vnhappy fortune.

The Queene Zenobia hauinge reade the letter of the Emperour Aurelianus, without feare of the contents, incontinently made sutch aunswere as followeth.

Zenobia Queene of Palmyres, and Lady of all Asia, and the kingdomes thereof, to thee Aurelianus the Emperour, health, and consolation, &c. That thou do intitle thy selfe with the Emperour of the Romanes I doe agree, but to presume to name thy selfe lord of the East kingdomes, I say therein thou doest offend. For thou knowest wel, that I alone am Lady Regent of all the Orient, and the only dame and maystresse of the same. Th’one part whereof descended vnto me by lawful Inheritaunce from my predecessors, and the other part, I haue won by my prowesse and deedes of armes. Thou sayest that if I rendre obedience vnto thee, thou wilt do me great honor: To that I aunswere, that it were a dishonest part of me, and a deede most vniust, that the Gods hauing created Zenobia to commaund all Asia, she should now begyn to bee slaue and thral vnto the city of Rome. Semblably, thou saiest that thou wylt gyue and leaue me al the golde, siluer, and other ryches whych I haue: Whereunto I aunswer, that it is a wycked, and fond request, to dispose the goodes of another as they were thine owne. But thine eyes shall neuer see it, ne yet thy handes shal touche it, but rather I hope in the Gods aboue to bestow and crye a larges of that which thou haste at Rome, before thou finger that whych I haue and possesse in Asia. Truely Aurelianus, the warres which thou makest agaynst me, and thy quarell, bee most vniuste beefore the supernall Gods, and very vnreasonablebefore men, and I for my part if I haue entred or doe take armes, it is but to defend my self and myne. Thy comming then into Asia is for none other purpose, but to spoile and make hauocke of that which an other hath. And think not that I am greatly afrayde of the name of Romane Prynce, nor yet the power of thyne huge army. For if it bee in thy handes to gyue battell, it belongeth onely to the gods to gyue eyther to thee or me the victory. That I remaine in fielde it is to me greate fame, but thou to fight with a widdowe, oughtest truelye to bee ashamed. There be come vnto myne ayde and Campe the Persians, the Medes, the Agamennonians, the Irenees, and the Syrians, and with them all the Gods immortall, who be wont to chastice sutch proude princes as thou art, and to helpe poore Widowes as I am. And if it so come to passe, that the Gods doe permit and suffre my lucke to be sutch, as thou do bereue me of lyfe and dispoyle me of goods, yet it will be bruted at Rome, and published in Asia, that the wofull wight Zenobia, was ouerthrowne and slayne, in defence of hir Patrimony, and for the conseruation of hir husbande’s honor. Labor no more then Aurelianus, to flatter and pray me, nor yet to threaten me: requere me no more to yeelde and become thy prisoner, nor yet to surrender that which I haue: for by doinge that I can, I accomplish that I ought. For it will be sayd and noysed through the world, (may it so come to passe as Fortune do not fauor mee) that if the Empresse Zenobia be captiue, she was not yet vanquished. Now touchinge my son which thou demaundest to cary with thee to Rome, truely that request I cannot abide, and mutch lesse do meane to graunt, knowing full well that thy house is stored full of manyfolde vices, where myne is garnished with many notable Philosophers: whereby if I leaue vnto my Children no great heapes of goods, yet they shalbe wel taught and instructed: For the one half of the day they spend in Learninge, and the other halfe in exercise of Armes. For conclusion of thy demaund, and finall aunswere, thereunto, I pray thee trauayle no more by letters to write vnto mee, ne yet by ambassage to spende any furder talke, but attend vntill our controuersie bee decided rather by force of Armes than by vttered wordes. The Gods preserue thee.

It is sayd that Aurelianus, receiuing that aunswere did reioyce, but when he had red it, he was greatly offended, which incontinently hee made to bee known, by gathering together his Camp, and besieginge the Citty wherein Zenobia was. And Aurelianus, wroth and outraged with that aunswere, although his army was weary and halfe in dispayre (by reason of the longe Warres,) yet he vsed sutch diligence and expedition in the siege of that place, as the Queene was taken and the city rased: which done, the Emperour Aurelianus retourned to Rome, caryinge with him Zenobia, not to doe hir to death, but to tryumph ouer her. At what tyme to see that Noble Lady goe on foote, and marche before the tryumphinge Chariot bare footed, charged with the burden of heauy chaynes, and hir two children by hir side: truly it made the Romane Matrons to conceyue great pity, being wel knowen to al the Romans, that neither in valorous deedes, nor yet in vertue or chastity, any man or woman of hir time did excell hir. The dayes of the triumph being done, all the noble Ladies of Rome assembled and repayred to Zenobia, and vsed vnto her great and honorable entertaynement, giuing hir many goodly presentes and rewards. And Zenobia liued in the company of those noble Matrons the space of.X.yeares before she dyed, in estimation like a Lucrecia, and in honour like a Cornelia. And if Fortune had acompanied hir personage, so well as vertue and magnanimity, Rome had felt the egrenesse of hir displeasure, and the whole world tasted the sweetnesse of hir Regiment. But nowe leaue we of, any longer to speak of Zenobia, that wee may direct our course to the hard fate of a King’s daughter, that for loue maried a simple person bred in hir father’s house, who in base parentage, and churlishe kynde coulde not be altered: but shewed the fruicts of brutishnesse: tyll Lady Fortune pityinge the Ladie’s case: prouided for her better dayes, and chastized her vnkinde companion with deserts condigne for sutch a matche.

Evphimia the Kyng of Corinth’s daughter fell in love with Acharisto, the seruaunt of her father, and besides others which required hir in mariage, she disdayned Philon the King of Peloponesus, that loued hir very feruently. Acharisto conspiring against the Kyng, was discouered, tormented, and put in prison, and by meanes of Evphimia deliuered. The King promised his daughter and kingdome to him that presented the head of Acharisto, Evphimia so wrought, as hee was presented to the King. The King gaue him his daughter to wyfe and when he died made him his heyre. Acharisto began to hate his wyfe, and condemned hir to death as an adulteresse. Philon deliuered hir: and vpon the sute of hir subiects, she is contented to mary him, and therby he is made Kynge of Corinth:

Constancyin honest loue (being a perfect vertue, and a precious ornament to the beloued, induinge eyther, besides ioy and contentacion, with immortall fame and Glory,) hath in it selfe these onely marks and properties to be knowen by, Chastity, and toleration of aduersity: For as the mynde is constant in loue, not variable, or geuen to chaunge, so is the body continent, comely, honest and pacient of Fortunes plages. A true constant minde is moued with no sugred persuasions of frendes, is diuerted with no eloquence, terrified with no threats, is quiet in all motions. The blustering blasts of parents wrath, cannot remoue the constant mayde from that which she hath peculiarly chosen to hir selfe. The rigorous rage of frendes, doth not dismay the louing man from the embracement of hir whom he hath amongs the rest selecte for his vnchanged feere. A goodly example of constant and noble loue this history ensuing describeth, although not like in both, yet in both a semblable constancy. For Euphimia, a kings daughter, abandoneth the great loue borne vnto hir by Philon, a yong prince, to loue a servant of hir father’s, with whom she perseuered in great constancy, for all his false and ingratefull dealings towards hir. Philon seeing his loue despised neuer maried vntill he maried hir,whom afterwards he deliuered from the false surmised treason of hir cancred and malicious husband. Euphimia fondly maried agaynst hir father’s will, and therefore deseruedly afterwards bare the penaunce of hir fault: and albeit she declared hir selfe to be constant, yet duty to louinge Father ought to haue withdrawen hir rash and heady loue. What daungers do ensue sutch like cases, examples be rife, and experience teacheth. A great dishonour it is for the Lady and Gentlewoman to disparage hir noble house with mariage of hir inferior: yea and great griefe to the parents to see their children obstinate and wilfull in carelesse loue. And albeit the Poet Propertius describeth the vehement loue of those that be noble, and haue wherewith in loue to be liberall, in these verses:

Great is the fayth of Loue,the constant mynde doth mutch auayle:And hee that is well fraught with wealth,in Loue doth mutch preuayle.

Great is the fayth of Loue,

the constant mynde doth mutch auayle:

And hee that is well fraught with wealth,

in Loue doth mutch preuayle.

Yet the tender Damosell or louing childe, be they neuer so noble or rich, ought to attend the father’s tyme and choyse, and naturally encline to parent’s will and likinge, otherwise great harme and detriment ensue: for when the Parentes see the disobedience or rather rebellious mynde of theyr childe, their conceiued sorrow for the same, so gnaweth the rooted plante of naturall loue, as either it hastneth their vntimely death, or else ingendreth a heape of melancholie humors: whych force them to proclaime defiance and bytter cursse against their propre fruit, vpon whom (if by due regard they had bene ruled) they would haue pronounced the sweete blessyng that Isaac gaue to Iacob, the mother’s best beloued Boye: yea and that displeasure may chaunce to dispossesse them of that, whych should haue bene the onely comfort and stay of the future age. So that neglygence of parent’s hest, and carelesse heede of Youthfull head, breedeth double woe, but specially in the not aduised Chylde: who tumbleth himselfe first into the breach of diuine lawes, to the cursses of the same, to parent’s wrath, to orphan’s state, to begger’s lyfe, and into a sea of manifold miseries. In whom had obedyence ruled, and reason taken place, the hearte myght haue bene satisfied, the parent wel pleased: the lifeioyfully spent, and the posteritie successively tast the fruits that elders haue prepared. What care and sorrow, nay what extremetie the foresayde Noble Gentlewoman susteined, for not yelding to hir father’s minde, the sequele shall at large declare. There was sometimes in Corinth, a Citty of Grecia, a Kinge, which had a daughter called Euphimia, very tenderly beloued of hir father, and being arriued at the age of mariage, many Noble men of Grecia made sute to haue hir to wife. But amongs al, Philon the young king of Peloponesus, so fiercely fell in love wyth hir, as he thought he could no longer liue, if he were maried to anye other: for which cause her father knowing him to be a King, and of singular beautye, and that he was far in loue wyth his Daughter, would gladly haue chosen him to be his sonne in lawe, persuading hir that she should liue with him a lyfe so happy as was possyble for any noble lady matched wyth a Gentleman, were he neuer so honorable. But the daughter by no meanes would consent vnto hir father’s wyll, alleaging vnto him diuers and sundry consideracions wherby hir nature by no meanes would agree, nor heart consente to ioyne wyth Philon. The king aboue all worldly thynges loued his fayre daughter: and albeit hee would fayne haue broughte to passe, that she should haue taken him to husband, yet he would not vse the father’s authoritie, but desired that Loue rather than force should mach his daughter, and therfore for that tyme was contented to agree vnto hir wyll. There was in the Court a young man borne of hir Father’s bondman, whych hyght Acharisto, and was manumised by the kinge, who made him one of the Esquiers for hys body, and vsed his seruyce in sundrye enterpryses of the warres, and bicause hee was in those affayres very skilfull, of bolde personage, in conflicts and battayles very hardy, the king did very much fauor him, aswell for that he had defended him from manifold daungers, as also bycause he had deliuered him from the treason pretended against him by the kyng of the Lacedemonians: whose helpe and valyance, the king vsed for the murder and destruction of the sayde Lacedemonian king. For whych valiant enterpryse, he bountifully recompenced him wyth honorable prefermentes and stately reuenues. Vpon this yong man Euphimia fixed hir amorous eyes, and fell so farre in loue, as vpon him aloneshe bent hir thoughtes, and all hir louing cogitations. Whereof Acharisto being certified, and well espying and marking hir amorous lookes, nouryshed with lyke flames the fire wherewyth she burned. Notwythstanding his loue was not so feruently bent vpon hir personage, as his desire was ambicious for that she shoulde be hir father’s onely heyre, and therfore thought that he should be a most happy man, aboue al other of mortall kynde, if he myght possesse that inheritance. The king perceiuing that loue, told his daughter, that she had placed her minde in place so straunge, as hee had thought hir wysdome would haue more warely foreseen, and better wayed hir estate and birth, as com of a princely race, and would haue demed sutch loue, farre vnworthy hir degree: requiringe hir wyth fatherly words, to withdraw hir settled mynde and to ioyne with him in choyse of husbande, for that he had none other worldly heire but hir, and tolde hir how he ment to bestow hir vppon sutch a personage, as a most happy life she should leade, so long as the destenies were disposed to weaue the Webbe of her Predestined life: and therefore was resolved to Espouse hir vnto that noble gentleman Philon. Euphimia hearkned to this vnliked tale, and with vnliked words refused hir fathers hest, protesting vnto him sutch reasons to like effect as shee did before, therby to draw him from his conceiued purpose, wherunto the wise king hauing made replye, continuing his intended mynde, at length in ragyng wordes, and stormed mind, he sayd vnto Euphimia: “How mutch the sweter is the wyne, the sharper is the egred sawce thereof. I speake this Parable, for that thou not knowing or greatlye regarding the gentle disposition of thy father’s nature, in the ende mayst so abuse the same, as where hitherto he hath bene curteous and benigne, he may become through thy disordred deedes, ryghte sowre and sharpe:” and without vtterance of further talke, departed. Who resting euill content wyth that fonde fyxed Loue, thoughte that the next way to remedy the same, was to tell Acharisto how greuously he toke his presumed fault, and in what heinous parte he conceiued his ingratitude, and how for the benefits which liberally he had bestowed vpon him, he had broughte and enticed hys daughter to loue him, that was farre vngreeable her estate. And therforehe called hym before hym, and with reasons firste declared the duetye of a faythfull seruaunt to his Soueraigne lord, and afterwards hee sayd: That if the receyued benefits were not able to lette him know what were conuenient and seemely for hys degree, but would perseuere in that which he had begon, he would make him feele the iust displeasure of a displeased Prince, whereby hee shoulde repent the tyme that euer hee was borne of Woman’s wombe. These woordes of the Kyng seemed greeuous to Acharisto, and not to moue hym to further anger hee seemed as though that (being fearfull of the Kyng’s displeasure) he did not loue his daughter at all, but sayd vnto hym, that he deserued not to bee so rebuked, for that it lay not in his power to wythstand hir loue, the same procedyng of hir own good wyll and lyberty: and that hee for his part neuer requyred loue: if shee did bend hir mynd to loue hym, hee could not remedye that affection, for that the freewyll of sutch vnbrydled appetite rested not in hym to reforme. Notwythstandyng, bycause he vnderstoode hys vnwyllyng mind, he from that tyme forth would so endeuor hymselfe as he shoulde well perceyue that the vnstayde mynde of the young gentlewoman Euphimia, was not incensed by hym, but voluntarily conceyued of hir selfe. “You shall doe well” (sayde the kyng) “if the effecte procede accordinge to the promise: and the more acceptable shall the same bee vnto mee, for that I desyre it shoulde so come to passe.” The king liked wel these words although that Acharisto had conceiued within the plat of his entended mind, som other treason. For albeit that he affirmed before the kyng’s owne face, that hee would not loue his daughter, yet knowing the assured wil of the louyng gentlewoman, hee practised the mariage, and like an vnkind and wretched man, deuised conuenient tyme to kil him: and fully bent to execute that cruel enterpryse, he attempted to corrupt the chiefest men about him, promising promocions vnto some, to some he assured restitucion of reuenewes, which by father’s fault they had lost beefore, and to other golden hilles, so that hee mighte attayne by slaughter of the king, to wynne a kingly state and kingdome: which the sooner he peruaded himself to acquire, if in secrete silence, they coulde put vp that which by generall voice they had agreed. And althoughthey thought themselues in good assurance, that theyr enterpryse could take no ill successe, by reason of their sounde and good discourse debated amonges themselues for the accomplishement thereof, yet it fortuned that one of the conspiracy (as commonlye in sutch lyke trayterous attemptes it chaunceth) beeynge wyth hys beloued Ladye, and shee makyng mone that little Commodytye succeeded of hir Loue for hir Aduauncement, brake out into these wordes: “Hold thy peace” (sayde hee:) “for the tyme wyll not bee longe before thou shalt bee one of the chiefest Ladies of this land.” “Howe can that bee?” (sayde hys Woman.) “No more adoe?” (quod the Gentleman:) “Cease from further questions, and bee merrye: for wee shall enioye together, a verye Honourable and a quyete Lyfe.” When hir Louer was departed, the gentlewoman went to an other of hir gossips very iocunde, and tolde hir what hir Louer had sayd: and shee then not able to keepe Counsell, wente and tolde an other: in such wyse as in the ende it came to the eares of the King’s steward’s wyfe, and she imparted the same vnto hir husband, who marking those words, like a man of great wisedome and experience, did verily beleue that the same touched the daunger of the king’s person: and as a faythfull seruant to his lorde and maister, diligently harkned to the mutteringe talke murmured in the Court, by him which had tolde the same to his beloued Lady: and knowinge that it proceeded from Acharisto, which was an obstinate and sedicious varlet, and that he with three or four other his familiars, kept secret company in corners, iuged that which he first coniectured, to be most certayne and true: wherefore determined to moue the king thereof, and vpon a day finding him alone, he sayd vnto him, that the fidelity and good will wherewith he serued him, and the desire which he had to see hym lyue in longe and prosperous Estate, made hym to attend to the salfegard of hys person, and to hearken vnto sutch as should attempt to daunger the same: for which cause, marking and espying the doings of certayne of his chamber (whose common assemblies and priuy whisperings mislyking) he feared least they conspiring with Acharisto, shoulde worcke treason, for berieuinge of his life: and to th’ intent their endeuours might be preuented, and his safety foreseene, he thought good to reueale the same tohys Maiesty. Then he tolde the King the words that were spoken by the first Gentlewoman, to one or two of her companions, and disclosed the presumptions which he had seene and perceyued touchinge the same. Amongs the ill conditions of men, there is nothinge more common than Poyson, Conspiracies, and Treason of Prynces and great Lordes: and therefore euery little suspicion presuming sutch perill, is a great demonstration of lyke myschiefe: which made the Kyng to geue credit to the Woords of hys Steward, hauing for hys long experience knowen him to be faythfull, and trusty. And sodaynly he thought that Acharisto attempted the same, that after hys death, by mariage of Euphimia, he might be the Inheritour of hys Kyngdome: the beliefe whereof, and the singular credite which he reposed in hys Steward, besides other thinges, caused hym to commaund the captayne of hys Guard to apprehend those 4 of whom hys Steward told hym, and Acharisto, committinge them to seuerall Prisons. Then he sent hys Officers to examyne them, and found vpon their confessions, the accusation of his steward to be true: but Acharisto, although the whole effecte of the Treason was confessed by those foure conspirators that were apprehended, and aduouched to his Face, and for all the Tormentes wherewith he was racked and cruciated, yet still denied, that eyther he was authour of the enterprise, or partaker of a treason so wicked: then the king incontinently caused the foure Gentlemen of hys Chamber to be rewarded accordinge to the worthinesse of their offence, and were put to death, and Acharisto to be repryued in sharpe and cruell prison, vntill with torments he should be forced to confesse that which he knew to be most certayne and true by the euidence of those that were done to death. Euphimia for the imprisonment of Acharisto, conceiued incredible sorrow, and vneths could be persuaded, that hee would imagine, mutch lesse conspyre, that abhominable fact, aswell for the loue which Acharisto seemed to beare vnto hir, as for the great good wyl wherewith he was assured that she bare vnto hym, and therefore the death of the kyng to be no lesse griefe vnto him, than the same woulde be to hir selfe, the Kyng being hir naturall and louing father: Acharisto thought on the other side, that if hee might speake with Euphimia, a way would be founde eyther for hysescape, or else for hys delyuery. Whereupon Acharisto beinge in this deliberation, found meanes to talke wyth the Iaylor’s wyfe, and intreated hir to shewe hym so mutch fauour, as to procure Euphimia to come vnto him: she accordingly brought to passe, that the yong Gentlewoman in secrete wise came to speake wyth thys trayterous varlet, who so soone as he sawe hir, shedinge from hys eyes store of teares, pitifully complayninge, sayd vnto hir: “I know Euphimia, that the kinge your father doth not inclose me in this cruell prison, ne yet afflicteth me wyth these miserable torments, for any suspicion he conceyueth of me for any intended fact, but only for the loue which I beare you, and for the like, (for whych I render humble thanks) that you do beare to me: and because that I am wery of this wretched state, and know that nothing else can rid me from this paynefull Lyfe, but onely death, I am determined wyth myne owne propre hands to cut the threed of life wherewith the destinies hitherto haue prolonged the same, that thys my breathinge Ghoast, which breatheth forth these doleful playntes, may flee into the Skyes, to rest it selfe amonges the restfull spirites aboue, or wandre into the pleasaunte hellish fieldes, amongs the shadows of Creusa, Aeneas wyfe, or else wyth the ghost of complayning Dido. But ere I did the same, I made myne humble prayer to the maiesty diuine, that hee would vouchsafe to shew me so much grace, as before I dye, I myghte fulfil my couetous eyes with sight of you, whose ymage still appeareth before those greedy Gates, and fansie representeth vnto my myndfull heart. Which great desired thing, sith God aboue hath graunted, I yeld him infinit thankes, and sith my desteny is sutch, that sutch must be the end of loue, I doe reioyce that I muste dye for your sake, which only is the cause that the King your father so laboureth for my death: I neede not to molest you wyth the false euidence giuen against me, by those malicious villaines, that be already dead, which onely hath thus incensed the Kinge’s Wrathe and heauy rage agaynst mee: whereof I am so free, as worthilye they bee executed for the same: for if it were so, then true it is, (and as lyghtly you myght beleue) that I neuer knew what Loue you beare mee, and you lykewyse did neuer knowe, the loue I bare to you: and therefore you may thinke that so impossible is theone, as I dyd euer meane, thinke, or ymagine any harme or peryll to your father’s person. To be short, I humbly do besech you to beleue, that so faythfully as man is able to loue a woman, so haue I loued you: and that it may please you to bee so myndfull of me in thys fadyng Lyfe, as I shal be of you in that life to come.” And in sayinge so, wyth face all bathed in teares, he clypped hir about the myddle, and fast imbracing hir said: “Thus takinge my last farewell of you (myne onely life and ioy) I commende you to the gouernement of the supernall God, and my selfe to death, to be dysposed as pleaseth him.” Euphimia, which before was not persuaded that Acharisto was guylty of that deuised Treason, nowe gaue full belyefe and credite to his wordes, and Weeping wyth him for company, comforted him so wel as she could, and bidding him to bee of good chere, she sayde, that she would seeke such meanes as for hir sake and loue he should not dye: and that before longe time did passe, shee would help him out of prison. Acharisto, although he vttered by ruful voice that lamentable talke, for remedye to ridde himselfe from pryson, yet he did but fayne all that he spake, addyng further: “Alas, Euphimia, do not incurre your Father’s wrath to please my minde: suffer me quietly to take that death, which sinister Fortune and cruell fate hath prouided to abridge my dayes.” Euphimia, vanquished with inspeakable griefe and burning passion of loue, said: “Ah, Acharisto, the onely ioy and comfort of my lyfe, do not pierce my heart with such displeasant wordes: for what should I do in this wretched world, yf you for my sake should suffre death? Wherfore put away that cruel thought, and be content to saue your Lyfe, that hereafter in ioye and myrth you may spend the same: trusting that yf meanes may be founde for your dispatche from hence, we shal liue the reste of our prolonged Lyfe together, in sweete and happy dayes: for my Father is not made of stone flint, nor yet was nourced of Hircan Tigre: he is not so malicious but that in tyme to come hee may be made to know the true discourse of thine innocent life, and hope thou shalt atteyne his fauour more than euer thou didst before, the care whereof onely leaue to me, and take no thought thy selfe: for I make promise vpon myne assured faith to brynge the same to passe: wherefore giue ouer thy conceyuedgryefe, and bende thy selfe to lyue so merie a life, as euer gentleman did, trained vp in court as thou hast bene.” “I am content,” said Acharisto, “thus to doe. The Gods forbid that I should declyne my hearte and mynde from thy behest, who of thy wonted grace doest seeke continuance of my Lyfe, but rather, sweete Euphimia, than thou shouldest suffre any daunger to performe thy promise, I make request (for the common loue betwene vs both) to leaue me in this present dangerous state: rather would I lose my lyfe than thou shouldest hazard the least heare of thy heade for my releefe.” “Wee shall be both salfe ynough, (aunswered Euphimia) for my deuice proceedinge from a woman’s heade, hath already drawen the plot of thy deliueraunce.” And with those wordes they both did end their talke, whose trickling teares did rather finishe the same, than willing mynds: and eyther of them geeuing a kysse vnto the Tower Walle, wherein Acharisto was fast shutte, Euphimia departed turmoyled wyth a Thousande amorous Pryckes, and ceased not but firste of all to corrupt and winne the Iayler’s Wyfe, whose husband was sent forth on businesse of the king’s: the conclusion of which practise was, that when shee caried meate to Acharisto, according to the order appoynted, she should fayne hirselfe to be violently dispoyled of the Pryson Key by Acharisto, who taking the same from hir: should shut hir in the Prison and escape, and when hir husband did returne, shee should make complaynt of the violence done vnto hir: accordinge to which deuise, the practyse was accomplished: And when hir husbande returned home, hearing his wyfe crie out within the Tower, was maruayllously amazed, and vnderstandinge that Acharisto was fled, (ignoraunt of the pollicy betwene his Wyfe and Euphemia,) hee fell into great rage, and speedely repayred to the Kynge, and tolde him what had chaunced. The Kinge thinking that the breach of Prison was rather through the woman’s simplicity than purposed malice, did mitigate his displeasure, howbeit forthwith he sent out scouts to spy, and watch into what place Acharisto was gone, whose secret flight, made all their trauayle to be in vayne. Then the Kinge when hee saw that he could not be found, made Proclamation throughout his realme, that who so would bringe vnto him the head of Acharisto, should haue to Wyfe hys onely Daughter, andafter hys decease shoulde possesse his Kingdome for Dowry of that mariage. Many knightes did put themselues in redinesse to atchieue that enterprise, and aboue al, Philon was the chiefe, not for gredinesse of the kingdome, but for loue which hee bare vnto the Gentlewoman. Whereof Acharisto hauinge intelligence, and perceyuinge that in no place of Europa hee could bee safe and sure from daunger, for the multitude of them which pursued him vnto death, caused Euphimia to vnderstand the miserable Estate wherein hee was. Euphimia which bent hir minde, and employed hir study for his safegarde, imparted hir loue which shee bare to Acharisto, to an aged Gentlewoman, which was hir nurse and gouernesse, and besought hir that she would intreat hir sonne called Sinapus, (one very well beloued of the king) to reach his help vnto hir desire, that Acharisto might retourne to the court agayn. The Nourse like a wyse woman lefte no persuasion vnspoken, nor counsell vnremembred, which she thought was able to dissuade the yong gentlewoman from hir conceiued loue: but the wound was so deepely made, and hir hearte so greuously wounded with the three forked arrows of the little blinde archer Cupide, that despising all the reasons of hir beloued nurse, shee sayde, how she was firmely bent eyther to runne from hir father, and to seke out Acharisto, to sustaine wyth him one equall fortune, or else with hir owne hands to procure death, if some remedy were not found to recouer the king’s good grace for the returne of Acharisto. The Nurse vanquished with pity of the yong mayden, fearinge both the one and the other daunger that myght ensue, sent for Sinapus, and vppon their talke together, Euphimia and hee concluded, that Acharisto should bee brought agayne vnto the Courte, and that she hir selfe should present him to the King: wherein should want no kinde of diligence vntill the Kyng did entertayne him agayne for his faythfull seruaunt, as he was wont to do. Vpon which resolution, Acharisto was sent for, and being come, Sinapus and Euphimia together with the nurse tolde hym in what sort they three had concluded touchinge his health and safegarde: which of him being well lyked, did giue them humble thankes: and then Sinapus went vnto the kyng, and told him, that there was one newly arriued at Corinth, to make a present vnto his grace of the head ofAcharisto. At which newes the kynge shewed hymselfe so ioyfull, as if hee had gotten an other Kingdome: and beinge placed vnder his cloath of state, with his Counsell and Princely trayne about hym, tellinge them the cause of that assembly, commaunded hym that brought those news, to bring the party forth newely come vnto the City to present the head of Acharisto before the presence of the King, who no sooner looked vpon him, but fell into sutch a rage, as the fire seemed to flame out of his angry eyes, and commaunded him presently to be taken and put to death. But Acharisto falling downe vpon hys knees, humbly besought his maiesty to geeue him leaue to speake: but the kinge not suffering him to vtter one word commaunded hym away. Then the Counsellours and other Lords of the Court, intreated his grace to heare him: at whose requestes and supplications he seemed to be content. Then Acharisto began to say: “Most sacred Prynce, and redoubted souerayne Lord, the cause of this my presumptuous repaire before your maiesty, is not to shew my selfe guilty of thy late deuised conspiracy, ne yet to craue pardon for the same, but to satisfie your Maiesty, wyth that contented desire, whych by Proclamation ye haue pronounced through your highnesse Realmes and dominions: which is, to offer this heade for reuenge of the faulte vniustlye layed vnto my charge by those foure, which worthily haue tasted the deserued payne of theyr offense. Wherfore I am come hither of myne owne accord, to shew the loue and greate desyre, whych euer I had to serue and please your Maiesty: and for that I would not consume my life in your displeasure, I make offer of the same to your mercifull wyll and dysposition, chosynge rather to die, and leaue your maiesty satisfied and contented, than to lyue in happy state, your princely minde displeased: but desyrous that your maiesty should know myne innocence, I humblye besech your grace to heare what I can say, that my fidelity maye bee throughly vnderstanded, and the wickednesse of the Varlets, mine accusers wel wayed and considered.” Then he began to rehearse all the things done by hym for the seruyce of his crowne and maiestye, and finally into what daunger he did put himself, when he kylled the Lacedemonian king, that went about by treason to murder him: whych enterpryse might appeare vntohim to bee a sure and euident testimony, that hee ment nothinge hurtfull or preiudiciall to his highnesse: and that hee esteemed not his life, when hee aduentured for his seruice and sauegard to employ the same: and after these alleaged causes, he added briefly, that the loue which his maiesty knew to be betweene him and Euphimia his Daughter, ought to haue persuaded him, that he had rather haue suffered death himselfe, than commit a thing displeasant to Euphimia. And knowing that a more offensive thynge coulde not chaunce to hir, than the vilent death of her father, hee myghte well thyncke that hee woulde haue deuysed the death of a Thousande other, rather than that horible and abhominable deede, sutch as hys greatest Ennemy woulde neuer haue done, mutch lesse hee whych was bounde vnto hym by so many Receyued Benefittes, for whose seruice and preseruacion he had dedicated and vowed hys Lyfe and Soule: but if so be his maiestie’s rancor and displeasure could not be mitigated, but by doinge him to death, hee desired that none of his alleaged reasons should bee accepted, and therefore was there ready to sacrifice his life at his maiestie’s disposition and pleasure. Acharisto by nature could tel his tale excedingly well, and the more his tongue stode him in seruice, the greater appeared his eloquence: whych so pierced the minde of the king and persuaded the Counsellers, and other of the Court, as he was demed giltlesse of the treason: and the matter was so debated, and the King intreated to graunt him pardon, as he was accompted most worthy of his fauour. Then the kyng, by the aduise of hys Counsell, was perswaded, that by force of hys proclamation, hys daughter should be giuen to Acharisto in mariage, and his kingedome for a dowrie, bicause hee had offered his owne heade, accordyng to the effecte of the same. So the kinge repentinge himselfe that he had offended Acharisto, in the end agreed to the aduise of his Counsell, and gaue him his daughter to wife: whereof Euphimia was so ioyful, as they bee that atteyne the summe of their heart’s desire. The father liued one whole yeare after this mariage, and Euphimia so pleasant a life for a certaine time, as was possible for any Gentlewoman. Hir father was no sooner dead, but the vnkinde man, nay rather brute beaste, had forgotten all the benefits receyued of his kinde and louing wife: and hauing by hir onelyemeanes got a Kingdome, began to hate hir so straungely, as he could not abide hir sight, (sutch is the property of cancred obliuion, which after it crepeth into ambicious heads, neuer hath minde of passed amitie, ne regardeth former benefite, but like a monster and deadly ennimy to humaine nature, ouerwhelmeth in his bottomlesse gulfe all pietie and kindnesse) and determined in the ende for recompence of sutch great good turnes, to despoyle hir of hir Lyfe. Howe thinke you, fayre Ladies, was not this a fayre rewarde for the loue, the trauailes and sorrowes susteined for this ingrate and villanous man, by that royal lady, to saue his life, and to take him to husband? Here is manifest (probatum) that in a vile and seruyle minde, no vertue, no duety, no receiued benefites can be harboured. Here is a lesson for yong Gentlewomen to beware howe they contemne and despise the graue aduise of theyr auncient fathers. Here they may see the damage and hurt that vnaduised youth incurreth, when neglectyng theyr Parents holesome admonitions, they gyue themselues to the loue of sutch as be vnworthy theyr estate and callyng. For what should ayle the Gentle pucell borne of gentle bloud but to match her selfe in like affinity, and not to care for curryshe kind, or race of churle. Bee there no Gentlemen to be found of personage and beauty worthy to ioyne in loue wyth them? Bee they so precious in nature or tender in education as theyr lyke can not be vouchsafed to couple in mariage yoke? Compare the glysteringe gold to drossie durte, and sutch is the difference betweene gentle and vngentle. But perhaps bringyng vp may alter nature, and custome transforme defect of birth: as Licurgus the lawemaker dyd trye betwene the Currish whelpe and the Spanyell kinde, both by trayning vp running to their contraries, the Spanyel not vsed to hunt eigre vpon the potage dishe, the other nouseled in that pastime pursuing his game. But that Metamorphosis is seldome seene amongs humane sort, and therfore I aduise the gentle kind, to matche themselues in equall lotte, and not to trust Sir Custome’s curtesie in choyse of feere. Returne we then to vnkind Acharisto, who now in full possession of his desired praie, reuertinge to his puddle of carlishe will and cancred nature, after many thousand wronges don to his most noble and gentle Quene, accused hir to be an adulteresse, and as one indeede,(although most innocent) she was condemned to the mercilesse fire. Philon, Kyng of Peloponesus, which (as we haue sayd before) loued Euphimia as he did the balles of his owne eyes, vnderstanding the crueltye that this wicked Man vsed towards hir, to whom both his lyfe and Kyngdome did belonge, moued wyth nobility of mynd, determined to declare to Euphimia the inward feruent loue which he bare hir, and to chastise Acharisto for his ingratitude with due correction. Wherfore depely debating wyth himselfe of this aduenture, thus he sayde: “Now is the time Euphimia, that Philon shewe what faythful Loue he hath euer borne vnto thee, and that he delyuer thee both from the present daunger wherein thou art, and from the hands of that vnkynde wretche, that is farre vnworthy of sutch a wife: for if thou haddest agreed to thy father’s wyll, and yelded to the pursute of him that loued thee beste, thou haddest no neede of rescue nowe, ne yet bene in perill of the wastfull flames of fire, which be ready to consume thy flesh and tender corps, full tenderly sometimes beloued of thy deare father, and of thy louyng frend Philon.” When he had spoken those wordes, hee earnestly disposed him self vpon that enterpryse. There was in those daies a custome in Corinth, that they which were condemned to death, were cariedIII.miles forth of the City, and there the sentence pronounced against them, were put to execution. Philon hauyng intelligence hereof, did put in readinesse a good troupe of horsemen, and being secretly imbarked, arriued at Corinth, and closely the nyght before Euphimia should be brought to the fire, harde by the place where the miserable Lady should be burnt, into a woode he conueyed his People: and so soone as the Sergeants and officers were approched neere the place wyth the lady, he issued forth, and did set vpon the throng, not sufferyng one of them to remayne aliue, to carye newes. When he had delyuered Euphimia from that present daunger of hir lyfe, and the companye dispercled, he sayd to the Queene: “Nowe thou mayst see (fayre Queene) the diuersitie, betwene the disloyaltie and vnkindenesse of Acharisto, and the faith and loue of Philon. But for that I meane not to leaue hys ingratitude vnrevenged, thou shalt staye here, vntyll thou heare newes of the due chastisment which I shall gyue hym.” Thosedire and cruell words foretold of hir husband’s death moued hir honest and Pryncely hearte that by no meanes could bee altered from the gentle nature, which it first had tasted and receiued: and althoughe shee had suffred Mortall and Solempne iniury of hir vnkynde husbande for Manyfolde Benefites, yet (shee good gentlewoman) woulde permyt no duetye of a trustye and faythfull Wyfe vnperformed. Wherefore shee besoughte Philon vpon her knees, not to procede to further reuenge of Acharisto, telling him, that enough it was for hir to haue escaped that present peryl, from which he like a princely Gentleman had deliuered hir, and therefore duering hir life was most bounde vnto him. Philon greately wondred at the goodnesse of this Ladie: howbeit the ingratitude of that Varlet by no meanes he would suffer to bee vnpunished. And beeing aduertised that Acharisto remayned in hys Palace without any suspicion of this aduenture, banded neyther with Guarde or other assurance, committed Euphimia to safe custodie, and sodainly assailed the Palace of Acharisto: and finding the Gates open, he entred the city, crying out vpon the Wickednesse and treason of Acharisto. At which wordes the whole City began to ryse, to helpe Philon in his enterpryse: for there was no state or degree, but abhorred the vnkind order of that Varlet, towards the noble woman their Queene. Philon aided with the people, assaulted the Palace, and in short space inuaded the same: and the Varlet beeing apprehended, was put to death. The Corinthians seeing the noble mind of Philon, and the loue which he bare to Euphimia, and knowing that their late Kyng was disposed to haue matched her wyth Philon, were very willing to haue him to be their Kinge, and that Euphimia should be his wife, supposinge that vnder the gouernement of a Prynce so gentle and valiant, they might liue very happily and ioyefullye. Execution don vpon that moste vnkinde varlet, Philon caused the Lady to be conueyed home into hir royal pallace: and the people with humble submission, began to persuade hir to marie wyth that younge Prince Philon. But shee which had lodged hir thoughts and fixed hir mind vpon that caytife, who vnnaturally had abused hir, would by no meanes consent to take a new husband, saying, that the seconde mariage was not to bee allowed in any woman. And albeit that sheeknewe howe greately she was bounde to Philon, as duringe life not able to recompence his louing kindnesse and valyante exployte performed for hir safegard, yet for al hir vnhappy fortune, shee was minded styll to remayne a widowe, and well contented that Philon shoulde possesse hir whole domynion and kingdome, and she pleased to lyue his subiecte: which state she sayd, did like her best. Philon, that not for desire of the Kingdome, but for loue of the Lady had attempted that worthy and honourable enterprise, sayd vnto hir: “Euphimia, it was onely for youre sake that I aduentured thys daungerous indeuor, to ridde you from the slander that might haue ensued your innocent death, and out of the cruel hands of hym, whom vnworthily you did so dearely loue. No desyre of kyngdome or worldly glorye induced me herevnto: no care that I had to enlarge the boundes of my countrey soile pricked the courage of my mynd (that is altogether empty of ambytion) but the Passion of carelesse Loue, whych thys long tyme I haue borne you in your happy father’s dayes, to whom I made incessant sute: and to your selfe I was so long a Suter, vntyll I receyued extreame repulse: for which I vowed a perpetuall single Lyfe, vntyll thys occasyon was offred: the brute whereof when I hearde first, so stirred the mynde of your most louyng knight, that drousie sleepe or greedy hunger, coulde not force this restlesse body to tarry at home, vntyl I reuenged my selfe vpon that villaine borne, which went about wyth roasting flames to consume the innocente flesh of hir whome I loued best. And therfore mustred together my men of armes and in secret sort imbarked our selues and arryued here: where wee haue accomplished the thyng we came for and haue settled you in quiet raygne, free from peryl of traiterous mindes, crauing for thys my fact nought else of you but wylling mynd to be my wife: which sith you do refuse, I passe not for rule of your kyngdom, ne yet for abode in Corinth, but meane to leaue you to your choyse. For satisfied am I, that I haue manifested to the world the greatnesse of my loue, which was so ample as euer king could beare to vertuous Queene: and so farewell.” At which words he made a signe to his people, that they shoulde shippe them selues for return to Peloponesus. But the Senatours and al the people of Corinth seing the curtesie of Philon,and how greatly their Queene was bound vnto him, fel downe vpon their knees, and with ioyned hands besought hir to take him to husbande, neuer ceasing from teares and supplication, vntyl she had consented to their requeste. Then the mariage was solempnised with great ioy and triumph, and the whole City after that tyme, lyued in great felicity and quiet, so long as nature lengthned the dayes of those two Noble Prynces.

The Marchionisse of Monferrato, with a banket of Hennes, and certaine pleasant wordes, repressed the fond loue of Philip the French Kynge.

GoodEuphimia (as you haue harde) did fondly apply hir loue vpon a seruile man, who though bred vp in court where trayninge and vse doth alter the rude conditions of sutch as be intertayned there, yet voyde of all gentlenesse, and frustrate of Nature’s sweetenesse in that curteous kinde, as not exchaunginge natiue fiercenesse for noble aduauncement, returned to hys hoggish soyle, and walowed in the durty filth of Inhumanity,whose nature myght wel with fork, or staffe be expelled, but home againe it would haue come, as Horace pleadeth in his Epistles. O noble Gentlewoman, that mildly suffred the displeasure of the good king hir father, who would fayne haue dissuaded hir from that vnseemely match, to ioyne with a yong Prince, a king, a Gentleman of great perfection: and O pestilent Carle, being beloued of so honourable a pucell, that for treason discharged thy head from the block, and of a donghill slaue preferred thee to be a king, wouldest for those deserts in the ende frame sayned matter to consume hir. With iust hatred then did the Noble Emperour Claudius Cæsar prosecute those of bond and seruile kinde that were matched with the free and noble. Right well knew hee that some taste of egrenesse would rest in sutch sauage fruite, and therefore made a law, that the issue of them should not haue like liberty and preheminence, as other had, which agreeably did couple. What harme sutch mariage hath deferred to diuers states and persons (t’auoide other examples) the former Nouell teacheth. Wherfore to ende the same, with bewailing of Euphimia for hir vnluckie lot, begin we now to glad our selues with the wise and stoute aunswer of a chaste Marquesse, a Gentlewoman of singular beauty and discretion, made to the fond demaund of a mighty Monarch, that fondly fell in loue with hir, and made a reckening of that, which was doubtfull to recouer. This king by Louing Hir whome he neuer saw,fared like the man that in his slepe dreamed that he had in holde the thynge furthest from him. For the King neuer saw hir, before he heard hir praised, and when hee hearde hir praised, for purpose to winne her, he trauailed oute of his way, so sure to enioy hir, as if he had neuer seene hir. This historie, although briefe, yet sheweth light to noble dames that be pursued by Prynces, and teacheth them wyth what regarde they ought to interteine such suters. The Marquesse then of Monferrato, a citye in Italy, beynge a Gentleman of great prowesse and valiance, was appointed to transfrete the Seas in a generall passage made by the Christians, wyth an huge Armie and great furniture. And as it chaunced, vpon a day greate talke was had in the court of king Philip surnamed Luscus (bicause he was poreblinde) who likewyse was making preparation to depart out of Fraunce in the said iorney. Report was made by a knight which knewe the said Marquize, that in all the world there was not the like maried couple, as the Marquize and his wyfe were, as well bicause the Marquize was bruted to be an excellent gentleman, as also for that his wyfe amonges al the troupe of Ladies, that liued in the world that time, was the fairest and most vertuous. Which words so entred the French king’s head, as sodainely (neuer seeing hir in all his life) he began to loue hir, and for that purpose determined to imbarke him selfe at Genoua, that by trauailyng that way by lande, he myght haue good occasion to see the Marchionisse, thinking that her husband being absent, hee might easily obtein that he desired. And as he had deuised, he began his enterpryse: who sending al his power before, toke his iorney wyth a meane trayne of Gentlemen: and beynge within one Daye’s iourney of the Ladye’s House, hee sent hir worde that the nexte Daye hee would visite her at Dynner. The sage and discrete lady ioyfully aunswered the Messanger, that she would accompt his comming for a great and singuler pleasure, and sayd that hys grace should be most heartily welcome. Afterwards she maruelled why sutch a king as he was, would in hir husband’s absence, come to hir house: and in that maruel and consideration she was no whit deceyued, coniecturinge that the fame of hir beauty was the cause of hys comminge. Neuerthelesse, like a wise Lady and honest gentlewoman, shedetermined to do him honour, and caused the worshipfull of hir country sutch as remayned behinde, to be assembled, for aduice in all thinges that were necessary for hys intertaynement. But the feast and variety of meats that should be serued, she alone tooke vppon hir to dispose and order: wherefore speedily sendinge about, and makinge prouision for all the Hennes that might be gotten throughout the countrey, commaunded hir cookes, of those Hennes without other thing what so euer, to prepare diuers seruices. The king fayled not the next day to come accordingly as he had sent word: and was with great honour receyued of the Lady, and in beholdinge hir, she seemed vnto hym (besides hys imagination comprehended by the former woordes of the Knyght) to be farre more faire, honest and vertuous, than hee thought, attributyng vnto hir, singular prayse and commendation. And so much the more his desire was kindled, as she passed the estimation bruted of hir. And after that the King had wythdrawen him selfe into the chamber ordeined and made ready for him, as appertained to a Prynce so greate, and that dinner time was come, the King and Madame the Marchionisse sat together at one boorde, and other accordyng to their degrees were placed at seueral tables. The King serued with many Dishes and excellent Wynes, beholdinge sometymes the Lady Marchionesse, conceyued great delight and pleasure. But vewing the seruice, and meates (although dressed in diuers sortes) to be but Hennes, he began to wonder, specially knowing the soyle wherein they were to be so rich and plentifull, as by little trauayle, great abundance of Foule and Venison might haue bin prouided, and thought that she had indifferent leysure to Chase and Hunt, after that he had sent hir woorde of hys comminge. Notwythstandinge he would not take occasion to enter into talke of those wants of better Cheare (hir Hennes only excepted) who lookyng vpon hir, with mery Countenaunce hee sayde vnto hir: “Madame were all these Hennes bred in thys countrey wythout a Cock?” The Marchionisse which full well vnderstoode the cause of his demaunde, thinkinge that God had sent hir an apt tyme for aunswere as she desired, boldly aunswered the Kinge: “No and it please your grace, but of Women, albeit in honour and apparell there is some difference, yet they be al made in this Countreyas they be else where.” The kyng hearing hir aunswere, right wel did know the occasion of the Banket of Hennes, and whereunto hir wordes did tend: and considred that to bestow any further talke to so wyse a Lady, it were in vayne, and that force there could take no place. Lyke as vnaduisedly he fell in loue, so it behoued him of necessity wysely to staunch the fire for his honour sake, and wythout any more taunting wordes, fearing hir reuenge, he dined without hope to get other thinge of hir. And when hee had done, to the intent by hys sodayne departure, he might couer his dishonest comming, thankinge hir for the honour which he had receyued, and she recommending him to God, he departed to Genoua. Here may be proued the great difference betweene Wysedome and Folly, betweene Vertue and Vice. The King more by Lust, than other desire, by circumstances endeuoured to sound the deapth of the Ladie’s minde: she by comely answere, payd hym home for his folly. A liuely representation of a noble creature, so well bedecked wyth Vertue as wyth Beauty.

Mistresse Dianora demaunded of maister Ansaldo a garden so faire in Ianuary, as in the moneth of May. Mayster Ansaldo (by meanes of an obligation which he made to a Nicromancer) caused the same to bee done. The husband agreed with the gentlewoman that she should do the pleasure which maister Ansaldo required, who hearinge the liberality of the husband, acquited hir of hir promise, and the Necromancer discharged maister Ansaldo.

Ofall things commonly accompanying the maner and trade of man’s life, nothing is more circumspectly to be attended and prouided for, than regard and estimation of honesty: which attire, as it is most excellent, and comely, so aboue al other vayne Toyes of outward apparell to bee preferred: and as honesty hath all other good Conditions included in it selfe, as the same by any meanes cannot stray out of that tract, troden before by the steppes of that most excellent vertue: euen so, impossible it is for the party adorned with the same, to wander one iote from that foretrodden Path: wherefore let eche wyght that traceth this worldly Lyfe, foresee the due obseruation of all thinges incident to that which is honest. Nothinge in thys lyfe (sayth Tully in his oration, for the Poet Archias) is so mutch to bee regarded. Honesty, for the gettinge whereof all torments of body, all perills and daungers of death be not to be regarded: honesty then beinge a Treasure so precious, what care not onely for the atchieuinge but for the conseruation ought to bee employed? in the practise whereof, one speciall thinge ought to be attended, which is, how a vow or promise ought to be made, or how the estimation of honesty ought to be hazarded for any thinge seeme it neuer so impossible: for what is it that loue and Money hath not brought to passe? what heard aduentures by Iason? what sleight by Alexander the Sonne of kynge Pryamus? what monsters slayne and labours sustaynedby Hercules? what daungers and exploits some haue incurred and other attempted by diuers? to bee short,

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