AFter that the wrath of mightie Ioue had wrapt Arcadia with noyſome peſtilence, inſomuch that the ayre yéelding preiudiciall ſauour, ſéemed to be peremptory in ſome fatal reſolution, Democles Soueraigne & King of that famous Continent, pittying the ſiniſter accidents of his people, being a man as iuſt in his cenſures, as royall in his poſſeſſions, as carefull for the weal • of his Countrey, as the countenance of his Diademe, thinking that vnpeopled Cities were corroſ • nes in Princes conſciences, that the ſtrength of his ſubiects was the sinewes of his Dominions, and that euery Crowne muſt containe a care, not onely to win honour by forraine conqueſt, but in maintaining dignitie with ciuill and domeſticall in •• ghts. Democle▪ grounding his argument vpon theſe premiſſes, coueting to be counted. Pater patria, calling a Parliament together, whither all his Nobilitie incited by ſummons made their repaire, elected two of his chiefe Lords to paſſe vnto Delphos, at Apollos Oracle, to heare the fatall ſentence, eyther of their future miſery, or preſent remedie. They hauing their charge, poſting from Arcadia to the Tripos, where Pithia ſate, the ſacred Nimph that deliuered out Apollos Dylonimas, offering (as their manner 〈◊〉 Orizons and preſents, as well to intreat by deuotion, as to perſwade by bountie, they had returned from Apollo this doome.

No ſooner had Pithia deliuered this ſcroll to the Lords of Arcadia, but they departed and brought it to Democles, who cauſing the Oracle to bee read amongſt the diſtreſſed commons, found the Delphian cenſure more full of doubts to amaze, then fraught with hope to comfort: thinking rather that the anger of GOD ſent a peremptory preſage of ruine, then a probable ambiguitie to applaud any hope of remedie: yet loth to haue his carefull ſubiects fall into the balefull Labyrinth of deſhaire, Democles beganne to diſcourſe vnto them, that the interpreters of Apollos ſecrets were not the conceits of humane reaſon, but the ſucceſſe of long expected euents, that Comets did portend at the firſt blaze, but tooke effect in the dated boſome of the deſtinies: that Oracles were fortold at the Delphian caue, but were ſhapte out and fluiſhed in the Counſell houſe. With ſuch perſwaſiue arguments Democles appealed the diſtreſſed thoughts of his doubtfull Countrey-men, and commanded by Proclamation, that no man ſhould pry into the quiddities of Apollo▪ anſwere, leſt ſundry cenſures of his diuine ſecrecy ſhould trouble Arcadia with ſome ſudden •• tinie. The King thus ſmoothing the beate of his cares, reſted a melancholy man in his Court: hiding vnder his head the double-faced figure of Ianus, as well to 〈◊〉 the Skies of other mens conceits with ſmiles, as to furniſh out his owne dumps with thoughts. But as other beaſtes leuell their lookes at the countenance of the Lyon, and birds make wings as the Eagles flye: ſo Regis ad arbitrium totus componitur orbis: the people were meaſured by the minde of their Soueraigne: and what ſtormes ſoeuer they ſmoothered in priuate conceite, yet they made hay, and cryed holiday in outward appearance: inſomuch that euery man repayred to his owne home, and fell eyther vnto pleaſures or labours, as their liuing or content allowed them.

Whiles thus Arcadie reſted in a ſilent quiet, Menaphon the Kinge ſhepheard, a man of high account among the Swaines of Arcadia, loued of the Nimphes, as the paragon of all their country yongſters, walking ſolitary downe to the shore, to ſee if any of his Ewes and Lambes were ſtraggled downe to the Strand to browze on the Sea Iuy, whereof they take ſpeciall delight to feede; hee found his ſtocke • gazing vpon the Promentory Mountaines hardly: whereon reſting himſelfe on a hill that ouer-peered the great Mediterraneum, noting how Phoebus fetched his Laualtes • n the purple Plaines of Neptunus, as if hee had meant to haue courted Thet is in the royaltie of his robes: the Dolphines (the ſweet comeiters of Muſike) fetcht their carreers on the calmed waues, as if A • ion had touched the ſtrings of his ſiluer ſounding inſtrument: the Mermaides thruſting their heads from the boſome of Amphitrite, ſate on the mounting bankes of Neptune, day 〈◊〉 their watry treſſes in the Sunne- 〈◊〉 Ae • dus for bare▪ to throwe abroade his guſts on the ſlumbring browes of the Sea-god, as giuing Triron leaue to pleaſure his Quéene with deſtred melodie, and Protens libertie to ſollowe his flockes without diſquiet.

Menaphon looking ouer the champion of Arcady, to ſee if the continent was as full of ſmiles, as the Seas were of fauours, ſaw the ſhrubbes as in a dreame with delightfull harnwnie, and the birds that chaunted on their branches, not diſturbed with the leaſt breath of a fauourable Zephirus. Seeing thus the accord of the land and Sea, caſting a freſh gaze o • the water-Nimphes, hee beganne to conſider, how Venus was faigned by the Poets to ſpring of the froth of the seas: which dra • e him ſtraight into a deepe coniecture of the inconſtancie of loue, that as if Luna were his lead-ſtarre, had euery 〈◊〉 ebbes and tydes, ſometime ouer-flowing the bankes of Fortune with a gracious looke lightened from the eyes of a fauourable louer, other whiles ebbing to the dangerous ſhelfe of deſpairs, with the piercing frowne of a froward Miſtreſſe. Menaphon in this browne ſtudie, calling to minde certaine Aphoriſmes that Auarreon had pen • downe as principles of loues follies, being as deepe an enemie to fancie, as Nar • iſſus was to aſſertion, beganne thus to ſcoffe at Venus Deitie.

Menaphon, thy mindes fauours are greater than thy wealths fortunes, thy thoughts higher than thy birth, and thy priuate conceit better then thy publique eſteeme. Thou art a ſhepheard, Menaphon, who in feeding of thy • oike findeſt out natures ſecrecis, and in • rouenting thy lambes preiudice, conceiteſt the aſtronomicall motions of the heauens: holding thy ſheepe-walkes to yeeld as great Philoſophie, as the ancients diſcourſe in their learned Academies. Thou counteſt labour as the Indians doe their Chryſocolla, wherewith they try euery mettall, and thou examine euery action. Content ſitteth in thy minde as Neptune in his Sea-throne, who with his trident mare appeaſeth euery ſtorme. When thou ſeeſt the heauens frowne, thou thinkeſt on thy faults, and a cleere ſkie putteth, thee in minde of grace: the Summers glory tells thee of youths vanitie: the winters parched leaues, of ages declining weakneſſe. Thus in a mirrour thou meaſureſt thy deeds with equall and conſiderate motions, & by being a Shepheard findeſt that which Kings want in their royalties. Enuy ouer-looketh thée, renting with the windes the Pine-trees of Ida, when the Affrick ſhrubs waue not a leafe with the tempeſt. Thine eyes are vailde with content, that thou canſt not gaze ſo high as ambition, and for loue: and with that in naming of loue, the ſhepheard fell into a great laughter. Loue, Menaphon, why of all follies that euer Poets fained, or men ſaulted with, this fooliſh imagination of loue is the greateſt. Venus forſooth for her wanton eſcapes muſt bee a goddeſſe, and her baſtard a Deitie: Cupid muſt bee yong and euer a boy, to prooue that loue is fond and witleſſe: wings to make him inconſtant, and arrowes whereby to ſhew him fearefull: blind (or all were not worth a pin) to prooue that Cupids leuell is both without aime and reaſon: thus is the god, and ſuch are 〈…〉 as our Shepheards of Arcadie ſettle themſelues to fancy, and weare the caracters of Venus ſtampt in their fore-heads, ſtraight their attire muſt bee quaint, their lookes full of amors, as their, gods • uiuer is full of arrowes: their eyes holding ſmiles and teares, to leape out at their Miſtris fauours or her frownes: ſighes muſt flie as figures of their thoughts, and euery wrinckle muſt be tempred with a paſſion: thus ſuted in outware proportion, and made excellent in inward conſtitution, they ſtraight repaire to take view of their Miſtris beauty. She as one obſeruant vnto Venus principles, firſt, • ieth loue in her treſſes, and wraps affection in the 〈◊〉 of her haire; ſnaring our ſwaines in her lockes, as Mars in the net, holding in her forhead Fortunes Kalender, either to aſſigne diſmall influence, or ſome fauourable aſpect. If a wrinckle appeare in her brow, then our Shepheard muſt put on his working day face, and 〈◊〉 nought but dolefull madrigals of ſorrow; if a dimple grace her cheeke, the heauens cannot prooue fatall to our kinde-hearted louers; if ſhee ſeeme coy, then poems of death mounted vpon deepe drawne ſighs, flie from their maſter to ſue for ſome fauour, alleadging how death at the leaſt may date his miſery; to be briefe, as vpon the ſhoares of 〈◊〉 , the windes, continue neuer one day in one quarter, ſo the thoughtes of a louer neuer continue ſcarce a minute in one paſſion; but as Fortunes globe, ſo is Fancies caſe; variable and inconſtant.

If louers ſorrowes then bee like Siſiphus turmoiles, and their fauours like honny bought with • all; let poore Menaphon then liue at labour, and make eſteeme of Venus as of Mars his Coucubine; and as the Cimbrians hold their idols in account but in euery tempeſt, ſo make Cupid a god, but when thou art ouer pained with paſſions, and then Menaphon will neuer loue: for as long as thou tempereſt thy hande with labours, thou canſt not fetter thy thoughts with loues. And in this Satyricall humour ſmiling at his owne conceits, hee tooke his pipe in his hand, and betweene euery-report of his inſtrument, 〈◊〉 a Stanzo to this 〈◊〉 .

Menaphons Song. Some ſay loue, Fooliſh loue, Doth rue and gouerne all the gods: I ſay loue, Inconſtant loue, Sets mens ſenſes f • r •• at ods. Some ſweare loue, Smooth'd face loue, Is ſweeteſt ſweet that men can haue: I ſay loue, Sowre loue, Makes vertues yeeld as beauties ſlaue. A bitter ſweet, a folly worſt of all, That forceth wiſedome to be follies thrall: Loue is ſweet: Where in ſweet? In fading pleaſures that doe ſhine: Beauty ſweet. Is that ſweet, That yeelds ſorrow for a gaine: If loue's ſweete, Herein ſweet, That minutes ioyes are monthly woes: Tis not ſweete, That is ſweet, No where, but where repentance growes: Then loue who lift, i • beautie be ſo ſowre, Labour for me, loue reſt in Princes bowre.

Menaphon hauing ended his roundelay, roſe vp, thinking to paſſe from the mountaine downe to the valley, caſting his eye to the ſea ſide, eſpied certaine fragments of a broken ſhip floating vpon the waues, and ſundry perſons driuen vpon the ſhore like a calme, walking all wet and weary vpon the ſands: wondring at this ſtrange ſight, hee ſtood amazed, yet deſtrous is ſée the euent of this accident, hee ſhrowded himſelfe to rest 〈◊〉 , till hee might perceiue what would happen: at laſt hee might descry it was a woman holding a childe in her armes, and an olde man directing her as it were hot guide. Theſe three (as diſtreſſed wrackes) preſerued by ſome further fore-pointing Fate, coueted to clime the Mountaine, the better to vſe the fauour of the Sunne, to dry their drench •• apparrell, at laſt crawled vp where poore Menaphon lay cloſe, and reſting them vnder a buſh, the old man did nothing but ſend out ſighes, and the woman ceaſed not from ſtreaming forth riuolets of teares, that hung on her chéeks like ye drops of pearled dew vpō the riches of Flora. The poore babe was the touch ſtone of his mothers paſſions: for when hee ſmiled and lay laughing in her lad, were her heart neuer ſo deeply ouercharged with her preſent ſorrowes: yet kiſſing the prettie Infant, ſhée lightned out ſmiles from thoſe chéekes that were furrowed with continual ſources of teares: but if he cryed, then ſighes as ſmokes, and ſobs as thunder-crackes, fore 〈◊〉 thoſe ſhowres, that which redoubled diſtreſſe diſtilled from her eyes: thus with pretty inconſtant paſſions trimming vp her baby, and at laſt to lull him aſléepe, ſhee warbled out of her wofull breſt this Dittie.

S • pheſtias Song to her childe. Weepe not, any wanton, ſmile vpon my knee, When thou art olde, there' • griefe enough for thee. Mothers wagge, 〈◊〉 boy, Fathers ſorrow father • ioy. When thy father firſt did ſee Such a boy by him and mee, Hee was glad, I was 〈◊〉 , Fortune chang • e made him ſo: When he had left his 〈◊〉 boy, Laſt his ſorrow, firſt his ioy▪ Weepe not my wanton, ſmile vpon my knee: When thou 〈◊〉 olde there's griefe enough for thee. Streaming teares 〈…〉 ſtint, Like 〈◊〉 drop 〈◊〉 flint, Fell by courſe from his eyes, That one anothers place ſupplies: Thus he grieued in 〈◊〉 part, Teares of bloud fell from his heart, When he left his 〈◊〉 the boy, Fathers ſorow, Fathers ioy. Weepe not my wanton, ſmile vpon my knee: When thou art olde; there's griefe enough for thee. The w • nton ſmilde, Father wept, Mother cryde, baby lept: More lie crownde, more he cryde, Nature could not ſorrow hide. He muſt goe, he muſt kiſſe, Childe and mother, baby bliſſe: For • e left his pretty boy, Fathers ſorrow, Fathers ioy. Weepe not my wanton, ſmile vpon my knee, When thou are olde, there's griefe enough for thee.

With this lullaby the baby fell aſleepe, and Sepheſtia laying it vpon the gréene graſſe, couered it with a mantle, and then leaning her head on her hand, and her elbow on her lap, ſhe fell afreſh to powre forth abundance of plaints, which Lamedon the olde man eſpying, although in his face appeared the mappe of diſcontent, and in euery wrinckle was a catalogue of woes, yet to chéere vp Sopheſtia, ſhrowding his inward ſorrow with an outward ſmile, hee beganne to comfort her in this manner.

Sepheſtia, thou ſeeſt no 〈◊〉 preuailes againſt the gaze of the Basiliſkes, no 〈◊〉 againſt the ſ • ing of the Taran • ula, no preuention to diuert the decrée of the Fates: nor no meanes to recall backe the driefull hurt of Fortune. Incurable ſores are without 〈◊〉 Aphoriſmes, and therefore no ſalue for them but patience. Th • n my Sepheſtia, • ith thy fall is high, and fortune low; thy ſorrowes great, and thy hope little, ſe • ing mee partaker of thy miſeries, ſet all vpon this, Solamen miſeris ſocios hab • iſſe doloris. Chance is like Ianus, double-faced, as well full of ſmiles to comfort, as of frownes to diſmay: the Ocean at the deaddeſt ebbe returnes to a ful tide, when the Eagle means to ſoare higheſt, he raiſeth his • light in the loweſt da • es: ſo ſ • reth it with fortune, who in her higheſt extremes is moſt vnconſtant: when the tempeſt of her wrath is moſt fearefull, then looke for a calme: when ſhe beats thée with Nettles, then thinke ſhée will ſtrew th •• with Roſes: when ſhe is moſt familiar with • urtes, her intent is to bee moſt prodigall, Sepheſtia. Thus are the •• rowes of fortune feathere • with ye plumes of the bird Halc ••• e, that changeth colour with the • one, which howſ • euer ſhée ſhoots them, pierce not ſo déepe but they may be •• ced. But Sepheſtia, th •• art daughter to a s • ing, exiled by him from the hope of a crowne was, baniſht from the pleaſures of the Court to the painefull fortunes of the country, parte • for loue from him thou canſt not but loue, from Maximus, Sepheſtia, who for thée hath ſuffered ſo many diſſa • ours, as either diſcontent or death can affoord. What of all this, is not H • pe the daughter of Time? Haue not ſtarres their fauourable aſpects, as they haue froward oppoſition? Is there not a Iupiter as there is a Saturne? Cannot the influence of ſmiling Venus ſtretch as farre as the frowning conſtitution of Mars? I tell thée Sepheſti • , Iuno f • ldeth in her browes the Volumes of the deſtinies: whom melancholy Saturne depoſeth from a Crowne, ſhée mildely aduanceth to a Diadem • : the • feare not, for if the mother li • e in miſeris, yet hath ſhe a Scepter for the Son: let the vnkindneſſe of thy father be buried in the • inders of obedience, and the want of Maximus bee ſupplyed with the preſence of his pretty babe, who being too yong for fortune, lyes ſmiling on thy knée and laughes at Fortune: learne by him Sepheſtia, to vſe patience, which is like the balme in the vale of Iehoſaphat, that 〈◊〉 no wound ſo déepe; but it cureth: thou ſéeſt alreadie Fortune begins ſo change her hiew, for after the great ſtorme that p •• t our ſhippe, we found a calme that bronght vs ſafe to ſhore; the mercie of Neptune was more then the enuie of Aeolus, & the diſcourteſ • e of thy Father is proportioned with the fauour of the gods. Thus Sepheſtia, being copartner of thy miſerie, yet doe I ſéeke to allay thy martyrdome: being ſicke to my ſelfe, yet doe I play the Phiſicion to thée, wiſhing thou mayeſt beare thy ſorrowes with as much content, as I brooke my miſfortunes with patience. As he was ready to go forward with his perſwaſiue argument, Sepheſtia fetching a déepe ſigh, filling her tender eyes with teares, mads this reply.

Swéet Lamedon, once partner of my royalties, now partaker of my wants, as conſtant in his extreme diſtreſſe, as faithfull in higher fortunes: the Turtle pearketh not on barren trées, Doues delight not in ſoule cottages, the Lyon frequent • no putrified haunts, friends follow not after pouertie, nor hath •• iſter chance any drugs from the Phisicions. Nullus ad amiſſas ibit amicus opes: and yet Lamedon; the miſfortune of Sepheſtia abridgeth not our olde contracted amitie, thou tempereſt her • xile with thy baniſhment, and • hée ſayling to Stix, thou • errieſt ouer to Phlege • on: then Lamedon, ſaying as Andromache ſaid to Hector, Tu Dominus, tu vir, tu mihi frater cris: Thy aged yéeres ſhall be the Kalender of my fortunes, and thy gray haires the Paralels of mine actions. If Lamedon perſwade Sepheſtia to content, Po • tia ſhall not •• céede Sepheſtia in patience: If hee will her to keepe a lowe fayle, ſhée will vaile all her ſhéete: if to forget her loues, ſhée will quench them with labours: if to accuſe Venus as a foe, I will hate Cupid as an enemie: and ſéeing the deſtinies haue driuen thée from a crowne, I wil reſt ſatiſfied with the country, placing all my delights in honoring thée, and nurſing vp my pretty wanton. I will imagine a ſmal cottage to be a ſpacious Palace, and think as great quiet in a ruſſet coat, as in royall habilliments. Sepheſtia, Lamedon will not ſcorne with Iuno to turne her ſelfe into ye ſhape of Semelas nurſe, but vnknown, re •• careles of my fortunes: the hope of times returne ſhall be the end of my thoughts, the ſmiles of my ſon ſhall be the nouriſhment of my heart, and the courſe of his • outh ſhalbe the comfort of my yeeres, euery laughter that leapes from his lookes, ſh • ll be the holiday of my conceits, and euery • eare ſhall furniſh out my grief • s, and his fathers funeralls. I haue heard them ſay, Lamedon, that the loweſt ſhrubbes feele the leaſt tempeſts, and in the valleys of Affrica is heard no thunder, that in countrie roomes is greateſt reſt, and in little wealth the leaſt diſquiet: dignitie treadeth vpon glaſſe, and honour is like vnto the herbe Sinara, that when it bloometh moſt gorgeous, then it blaſteth: Aulica vita ſplendida miſeria, Courts haue golden dreames, but cottages ſweet ſlumbers: then Lamedon, will I diſguiſe my ſelfe, with my cloathes wil I change my thoughts; for being poorely attired, I will be meanely minded, & meaſure my actions by my preſent eſtate, not by former fortunes. In ſaying this, the babe a wa • t and cried, and ſhe fell to teares mixed with a • ullable.

All this while Menaphon ſate amongſt the ſhrubs, fixing his eyes on the glorious obiect of her face, he noted her treſſes, which hee compared to the coloured Hiacinth of Arcadia, her browes to the mountain ſnows that lie on the hils: her eies to 〈◊〉 gray gliſter of Titans gorgeous mantle, her alablaſter necke to the whiteneſſe of his flockes, her teares to pearle, her face to borders of lillies interſeamed with roſes: to be briefe, our Shepheard Menaphon that heretofore was an Atheiſt to loue, and as the Theſſalian of Bacchus, ſo hee a contmner of Venus, was now by the wilie ſhaft of Cupid ſo intangled in the perfection & beauteous excellencie of Sepheſtia; as now hee ſwore, no benigne Planet but Venus, no god but Cupid, no exquiſite deitie but Loue. Being thus fettered with the pliant perſwaſions of fancie, impatient in his new affections, as the horſe that neuer before felt the ſpurre, he could not bridle his new conceiud amors, but watching when they ſhould depart, perceiuing by the geſtures of the old man, and the teares of the Gentlewoman, that they were diſtreſ • , thought to offer 〈◊〉 helpe that lay within the compaſſe of his abilitie. As thus hee muſed in his new paſſions, Lamedon and Sepheſtia roſe vp, and reſolued to take courſe which way the winde blew: paſſing ſo downe the mountain • to g •• ſeeke out ſome towne, at laſt they paſſing faſtly on, Lamedon eſpied Menaphon: deſirous therefore to know the courſe of the countrie, he ſaluted him thus.

Shepheard, for to farre thy attire warrants me; cour • eous, for ſo much thy countenance imports: i • diſtreſſed, perſons, whom Fortune hath wronged, and the ſeas haue fauoured, (if we may count it fauour to liue and wa • t) may without offence • raue ſo farre ſide, as to know ſome place where to reſt our wearie and weather-beaten •• nes, our charges ſhall be • paide, and you haue for recompence ſuch thankes, as Fortunes out-lawes may yeeld to their fauourers. Menaphon hearing him ſpeake ſo grauely, but not • itting his eare to his eye, ſtood ſtaring ſtill an Sepheſtias face, which ſhee perceiuing, flaſhed out ſuch a bluſh fro • her alablaſter cheekes, that they lookt like the rud •• gates of the Morning: this ſweet baſhfulneſſe amazing Menaphon, at laſt he began thus to anſwers.

Strangers, your degree I know not, therefore pardon if I giue leſſe titl • , then your eſtates •• rite: fortunes from 〈◊〉 are princes fortunes, and kings are ſubiect to ch •• c • • deſtiny. Miſ-hap is to be ſalued with pitie, not ſcorne: and we that are fortunes darlings, are bound to relieu • them that are diſtreſt: therefore follow mee, and you ſhall haue ſuch ſuccor, as a Shepheard may afford. Lamedon and Sepheſtia, were paſſing glad, and Menaphon led the way, not content onely to feede his ſight with the beauty of his new Miſtris, but thought alſo to infer ſome occaſion of parl • y, to heare whether her voice were as m • ledious as her face beautifull, hée therefore proſecuted his prattle thus: Gentlewoman, when firſt I ſaw you ſitting vpon the Arcadian promontorie with your babie on your lap, & this old father by, I thought I had ſeene Venus with Cupid on her knée, 〈…〉 of Troy & the 〈…〉 your lookes could discouer no leſſe th • n. Mar • 〈…〉 , and the beautie 〈◊〉 child as much as the digni •• of her wanton: at laſt 〈…〉 , that yo • 〈…〉 diſtreſſe; 〈…〉 partake your ſo 〈◊〉 , and 〈…〉 , I pity ouercharged perſons, in lieu 〈◊〉 het 〈…〉 your name, country and •••• ntage, 〈…〉 by the a 〈…〉 , that the swains 〈…〉 loue, replyed 〈◊〉 Courte ••• 〈…〉 did looke like Venus at: a bluſh, it way 〈◊〉 the 〈◊〉 goddeſſe wept for her faire: Adonis: my boy 〈…〉 Cupid, but the fou •• of Care▪ Fortunes 〈◊〉 in his youth to be (I hope) her darling in his age 〈◊〉 that your look • ſaw our griefe, and your • hought 〈…〉 ſhal giue thanks (the bount • of 〈…〉 harts pray that the gods may be as friendly to your flo •• s, as you fauourable vnto vs. My 〈◊〉 is Samela, my country Cypres, my 〈…〉 , the wiſ • of a 〈◊〉 Gentleman now 〈…〉 , ſh • pheard 〈◊〉 , leſt it be • edious for thée to heare it, and a double griefe for me • to 〈◊〉 it. The ſhepheard not daring diſpleaſe hi • Miſtris, 〈…〉 threats hanging 〈◊〉 her lips, 〈…〉 them 〈◊〉 to his houſe: 〈◊〉 as they were art 〈…〉 , he began at the doore to entertaine them thus: Fair • Miſtris, the flower of all our Nimphe • that li •• here in Arcadia, this is my cottage wherein I liue content, and your lodging, where (pleaſe it you) ye may reſt 〈…〉 to couer the 〈◊〉 , nor 〈…〉 wealth: for ſhepheards vſe neither to 〈…〉 : you ſhall •• nde here 〈◊〉 and milk ſo? dai • 〈◊〉 , and 〈◊〉 for • l • • hing, in euery corner of the houſe. Content ſitting ſmiling and tempering 〈…〉 thing with a 〈◊〉 : this if ye can brooke and accept of (as gods allow the meaneſt hoſpitalitie) ye • all haue ſuch welcome and 〈◊〉 Phil • mon and Baucis gaue to Iupiter▪ Sepheſtia thankt him heartily, and going into his houſe, 〈…〉 what he promiſe 〈◊〉 that they had ſate a little by the 〈◊〉 and were 〈◊〉 warmed, they went to ſupp •• , where Sepheſtia 〈◊〉 well, as one whom the ſea had made 〈◊〉 , and Lamedon ſo plied his teeth, that at ſupper he ſp • ke not 〈…〉 taken their • ēpaſt▪ Menaphon 〈◊〉 they were 〈◊〉 , and that ſléepe chimed on to the reſt, let them ſée their lodging, and ſo gaue them the good night. Lamedon on his • ock-bed, and Sepheſtia on her country • ouch,) were ſo 〈◊〉 , that they ſlept well & but Menaphon, poore Menaaphon, neither aſked his 〈◊〉 for his 〈◊〉 , nor tooke his male-ſpade on his neck to ſée his 〈◊〉 but as a man pained with a thouſand paſſions, drenched in diſtreſſe, & ouer-whelmed with a multitude of vncouth 〈◊〉 ; he 〈◊〉 like the pictures that Perſ •• turned with him 〈◊〉 head into ſtones. His ſiſter Carmela kept his houſe, (for ſo was the country wench called) and ſhée ſeeing her brother ſit ſo 〈◊〉 -contented, ſtept to her cupboord, & fetcht a little beaten ſpice in an old bladder, ſhe ſpared no euening milke, but went amongſt the creame boll • s, and made him a poſſet. But alas, loue had ſo locked vp the ſhepheards ſtomach, that none would downe with Menaphon. Carmela ſeeing her brother refuſe his ſpiced drinke, thought all was not well, and therfore ſat down and wept: to be 〈◊〉 , ſhe blubbered, and he 〈◊〉 ; and his men that came in and ſaw their ••• ſter with a kercher on his head, mourned: ſo that amongſt theſe ſwaines there was ſuch melodie, that Menaphon tooke his bow and arrowes, and went to bed: where caſting himſelfe, he thought to haue beguiled his • aſſions with ſome ſweet ſlumbers: but loue that ſmiled at his new entertained champion, ſitting on his beds head, wicked him forward with new deſires, charging Morph ••• , Phobetur, and Ic • lon the gods of ſleepe, to preſent vnto his cloſed eyes the ſingular beauty and rare 〈…〉 of 〈◊〉 : & for ſo will we now call her) in that the Id •• of her excellence forced him to breathe out ſcalding ſigh • s ſmothered within the fornace of his thoughts, which grew into this or the like paſſion.

I had thought, Menaphon, that he which weareth the bay leafe, had bin frée from light 〈◊〉 , and the Eagles 〈◊〉 a preſeruatiue againſt thunder, that labour had béene 〈◊〉 ſo loue, and the eſchewing of idlenes an Antidote againſt fancie: but I ſée by proofe, there is no adamant ſo • ard, but the bloud of a Goat will make ſoft: no 〈◊〉 ſo well defenced, but ſtrong battery will enter, nor any heart ſo plyant to reſtleſſe labours, but inchantments of loue will ouer come. Vnfortunate Menaphon, that of late thought ••• Venus a ſtrumpet, and her ſonne a baſtard: now muſt thou offer incenſe at her ſhrine, & ſweare Cupid no leſſe then a god: thou haſt reaſon▪ Menaphon, for he • that liues without loue, liues without life, preſuming as Narciſſus to hate all, and being like him, at length deſpiſed of all. Can there 〈◊〉 • ſw •• ter bliſſe then beautie, a greater heauen then her heauenly perfections that is miſtris of thy thoughts? If the ſparkle of her eyes appeare in the night, the ſ • arres bluſh at her brightneſſe: if her haire gliſter in the day, Ph •• bus puts off his wreath of diamonds, as ouercome with the ſhine of her treſſes: if ſhe walke in the fields, Flora ſéeing her face, bids all her glorious flowers 〈◊〉 themſelues, as being by her beautie diſgraced▪ •• her Ala • aſter necke appeare▪ then Hye •• s couereth his ſ • old, as ſurpaſſed in whiteneſſe • to be ſhort, Menaphon, if Samela had appeared in Ida, Iuno for maieſtie, Pallas for wiſdome, and Venus for beauty had let my Samela haue the Supremacie▪ why ſhouldeſt thou not then loue, and thinke there is no life to loue, ſéeing the end of loue is the poſſeſſion of ſuch a heauenly paragon▪ but what of this, Menaphon? haſt thou any hope to inioy her perſon? ſhee is a widdow: true, but too high for thy fortunes: ſhée is in diſtreſſe. Ah, Menaphon; if thou haſt any ſparke of comfort, this muſt ſet thy hope on fire▪ want is the load-ſtone of affection, diſtreſſe forceth • éeper then fortunes frownes, and ſuch as are poore, wil rather loue then want reliefe: fortunes frownes are whetſtones to fancie, and as the horſe ſtarteth at the ſpurre, ſo loue is pricked forward with diſtreſſe. Samela is ſhipwracked, Menaphon reléeue • her: ſhée wants, he ſupplies with wealth, he ſ • es for loue, • yther muſt ſhee grant▪ or buy • eniall with perpetuall repentant • . In this hope 〈◊〉 the poore ſhepheard: and with that, Menaphon laid his head downe on the piſ • ow, and tooke a ſound nap, ſléeping out fancie with a good ſlumber.

As ſoone as the Sun appeared, the ſhepherd got him vp, and 〈◊〉 fat with this hope, went merrily with his men to the folds, and there 〈◊〉 • orth his ſheep, after that he had appointed where they ſhould graze, returned home, and looking when his gueſts ſhould riſe, hauing ſlept ill y• laſt night went roundly to his breakfaſt: by that time hee had ended his 〈◊〉 , Lamedon was gotten vp, and ſo was Samels. Againſt their riſing, Carmela had 〈◊〉 her cookerie, and Men • phon • yred in his ru •• et Ia • ket, his redde ſleeues of chamlet, his blew 〈◊〉 , & his round •• ops of countrey cloth, beſtirred him, as euery ioynt had béene fat to a ſundry office. Samela no ſooner came out of her Chamber, but Menaphon as one that stai •• ed piety for his paſſions, had her good morrow 〈…〉 louers look: Samela knowing the fowle by the Feather, was able to caſt his diſeaſe without his water, perceiued that C • pid had caught the poore ſhapheard in his 〈◊〉 , and vnleſſe he • aught quickly to breake out of the • hare, would make him a 〈…〉 faire lookes ſhee gaue him, and with a ſmiling ſorr •• diſcouered how ſhee grieued at his miſfortune, • yet 〈◊〉 him: wel to breakfaſt they went, Lamedon & Samela ſed hath, but Menaphon like the Argiue in the 〈…〉 of Arabia, liued with the contemplation of his miſtris •• a • ty: the Salamender liues not without •• re, the H • rring from the water, the Mo • e from the earth, nor the C •• eleon from the ayre: nor could Menaphon 〈◊〉 but in •• ght of his Samela, whoſe breath was perfumed ayre, whole eies were 〈◊〉 wher in he delighted to daily, whoſe heart the earthly paradiſe, wherein he deſired ſo ingraſſe the 〈◊〉 of his loue and affection: thus did the poore ſhepheard • athe in a kind of bliſſe, while his eye f ••• ing on his miſtris face, ſurfeited with the 〈◊〉 of her perfection. So long hee gazed, that at length breakfaſt was ended, and he deſtrous to do her any ſeruice, firſt put her childe to nurſe, and then led her forth to ſee his folds: thinking with the •• ght of his flocks to inueigle her, whoſe minde had rather haue choſen any miſfortune, then haue deigned her eies on the face and feature of ſo low a peſant. Well, abroad they went, Menaphon with his Shéephooke fringed with crewell, to ſignifie he was chiefe of the Swaines, Lamedon and Samela after: plodding thus ouer ſhe gréeue fields, at laſt they came to the mountaines where Menaphons flocks grazed, and there he diſcourſed to Samela thus. I tell thée faire Nimph, theſe plaines that thou ſeeſt ſtretching Southward, are paſtures belonging to Menaphon: there growes the Cinque •• ile, and the Hiacinth, the Cow •• ip, the Primroſe, and the Violet, which my • locks ſhal ſpare for flowers to make thée Garlands, the milke of my Ewes, ſhall be meate for my pretty wanton, the w • ll of the fat wethers, that ſéeme as ſine as the fléece that Iaſon fetch • from Colchos, ſhall ſerue to make Samela webs withall, the mountaine toys ſhall be thy morning walke, and the ſha ••• Vallies thy euenings Arbour, as much as Menaphon owes, ſhall be at Samelaes command, if ſhe like to liue with Menaphon. This was ſpoken with ſuch déep affects, that Samela could ſcarce kéep her from ſmiling: yet ſhe couered her conceit with a ſorrowfull countenance, which Menaphon eſpying, to make her merry, and rather for his owne aduantage, ſéeing Lamedon was aſléepe, •• oke her by the hand, and ſate downe, and pulling forth his pipe, began after ſome melodie to carroll out this roundelay.

Menaphons roundelay. When tender • wes brought home with Euening Sunne, Wend to their folde, And to their holds, The ſhepheards trudge when light of day is done. Vpon a tree, The Eagle Ioues faire bird did pearch, There reſteth he: A little flye harbour then did ſearch, And did preſume (though others laught thereat) To pearch whereas the princely Eagle ſate. The Eagle frownde and ſhooke his royall wings, And charg'de the Flye, From thence to hye. Afraide in haſte, the little creature ſ • ings, Yet ſeekes againe, Fearefull to pea • ke him by the Eagles ſide, With moody vaine, The ſpeedy poſt of Ganimede replide: Vaſſall, auant, or with my wings you dye, Is't fit an Eagle ſeate him with a flye? The flye craued pittie, ſtill the Eagle frownde. The ſilly flye, Readie to dye, Diſgracde, diſplacde, fell groueling to the ground; The Eagle ſaw, And with a royall minde, ſaid to the flye, Be not in awe, I ſcorne by me the meaneſt creature dye: Then ſeate thee here: the ioyfull flye vp ſ • ings, And ſate ſafe ſhadowed with the Eagles wings.

As ſoone as Menaphon had ended this ronndelay, turning to Samela, after a country bluſh, hes began to court her in this homely faſhion: what thinke you▪ Samela of the Eagle for this royall déed? that he falſified the old Prouerbe, Aquila non capit muſcas. But I meane, Samela, are you not in opinion, that the Eagle giues inſtance of a princely reſolution, in preferring the ſafetie of a flye, before the credit of her royall maieſtie? I thinke Menaphon that high minds are the ſhelters of pouerty, & Kings ſeats are couerts for diſtreſſed perſons, that the Eagle in ſhrowding the flye did well, but a little forgot her honor. But hold thinke you, ſaid Samela, is this proportion to be obſerued in loue? I geſſe no, for the 〈◊〉 did it not for loue, but for ſuccour. Hath loue then reſpect of circumſtance: Els it is not loue, but luſt; for where ye parties haue no ſimpathy of eſtates, there can no firme loue be fixt: diſcord is reputed the mother of diuiſion, as in nature this is an vnrefuted principle, that it faulteth, which faileth in vniformitie. Hee that grafts Iilliflowers vpon the Nettle, marreth the ſmel, who couets to tie the lamb and the lion in one tedder, makes a braule: equall fortunes, are loues fauorites, and therefore ſhould fancy be alwaies limited by Geometricall proportion, leſt if yong matching with old, fire and froſt fall at a combate, and if rich with poore, there ha • many dangerous and brauing obiections. Menaphon halfe nipped in the pate with this reply, yet like a tall ſouldier ſtoode to his tackling and made this anſwere: ſuppoſe gentle Samela, that a man of meane eſtate, whom diſdainfull fortune had abaſed, in tending to make her power prodigall in his miſ-fortunes, being feathered with Cupids bolt▪ were ſnared in the beautie of a Quéene, ſhould he rather die then diſcouer his amors? It Quéenes (quoth ſhe) were of my minde, I had rather die, then periſh in baſer fortunes. Venus loue • Vulcan, replied Menaphon: truth, quoth Samela, but though he was polt-footed, yet he was a god. Phao inioyed S • pho, he a • erriman that liued by his hands thrift, ſhée a princeſſe that ſate inueſted with a diadem. The more fortunate, qd. Samela, was he in his honors, and ſhe the leſſe famous in her honeſtie. To leaue theſe inſtances, replied Menaphon (for loue had made him hardy) I, ſwéet Samela, infer theſe preſuppoſed premiſſes, to diſcouer the baſeneſſe of my mean birth, and yet the • éepneſſe of my affection, who euer ſince I ſaw the brightneſſe of your perfection ſhining vpon the mountaines of Arcady, like the gliſter of the Sun vpon the topleſſe promontory of Sicilia, was ſo ſnared with your beauty, & ſo inueigled with the excellence of that perfection that excéeds all excellency, that loue entring my deſire, hath maintained himſelfe by force, that vnleſſe ſweets Samela grant me fauor of her loue, & play the princely Egle, I ſhall with the poore •• ie periſh in my fortunes: he concluded this period with a deepe ſigh: and Samela grieuing a • this folly of the ſhepheard, gaue him mildely this anſwere.

Menaphon, my diſtreſſed haps are the reſolution of the deſtinies, and the wrongs of my youth are the fore-runners of my woes in age, my natiue home is my worſt nurcery, & my friends deny that which ſtrangers preiudicially grant: I arriued in Arcadie ſhipwrackt, and Menaphon fauoring my ſorrowes, hath affoorded me ſuccours, for which Samela reſts bound, and will prooue thankefull: as for loue, know that Venus ſtandeth on the Tortois, as ſhewing that loue creepeth on by degrées, that affection is like the ſnaile, that ſteales to the top of the launce by minutes: the graſſe hath his increaſe, yet neuer any ſées it augment, the ſun ſhadoweth, but the motion is not ſéene: loue like thoſe ſhould enter into the eye, and by long gradations paſſe into the heart: Cupid hath wings to flie, not that loue ſhould be ſwift, but that he may ſo • re hie, to auoid baſe thoughts. The Topaz being throwne into the fire, burnes ſtrait, but no ſooner out of the flame but it fréezeth: ſtraw is ſoone kindled, but it is but a blaze: and loue that is caught in a moment, is loſt in a minute: giue me leaue, Menaphon, firſt to ſorrow 〈◊〉 my fortunes, then to call to mind my huſbands late funeralls, then if the fates haue aſſigned I ſhall fancie, I will account of thée before any ſhepheard in Arcadie. This concluſion of Samela drew Menaphon into ſuch an extaſie for ioy, that hee ſtoode as a man metamorphozed: at laſt, calling his ſenſes together, he told her he reſted ſatiſfied with her anſwer, and thereupon le • t her a kiſſe, ſuch as bluſhing Thetis receiues from her choiceſt Leman. At this Lamedon awaked, otherwiſe, no doubt, Menaphon had replied, but breaking off their talke, they went ſo view their paſtures, & ſo paſſing downe to the place where the ſhéep grazed, they ſearched the ſhepheards bags, & ſo emptied their bottles, as Samela maruelled at ſuch an vncouth banquet: at laſt they returned home, Menaphon glorying in the hope of his ſucceſſe, entertaining Samela ſtil with ſuch curteſy, y• ſhe finding ſuch content in the cottage, began to deſpiſe the honors of the court. Reſting thus in houſe with the Shepheard, to auoyd tedious conceits, ſhe framed her ſelfe ſo to countrie labours, that ſhe oft-times would leade the •• acke • to the fields her ſelfe, and being dreſt in hamely attire, ſhee ſéemed like Ocnone that was amorous of Paris. As ſhee thus often traced alongſt the plaines, ſhe was noted amongſt the ſhepheards of one Doron next neighbour to Menaphon, who entred into the conſideration of her beauty, and made report of it to all his fellow ſwaines, ſo that they chatted naught in the fields but of the new ſhepheard • ſſe. One day amongſt the reſt, it chaunced that Doron ſitting in parley with another country companion of his, amidſt other tattle, they prattled of the beaut • e of Samela. Haſt thou 〈◊〉 her, quoth Melicertus? (for ſo was his • rland called) I quoth Doron, and •• ghed to ſée her, not that I was in loue, but that Agréeued ſhee ſhould bee in loue with ſuch a one as Menaphon. What manner of woman is ſhe, quoth Melicertus? As well as I can, anſwered Doron. I will make deſcription of her.

Dorons deſcription of Samela. Like to Diana in her ſummer weede, Girt with a crimſon robe of brighteſt die, goes faire Samela. Whiter then be the flocks th • t ſtraggling feede, When waſht by Arothuſa faint they lie, is faire Samela. As faire Aurora in her morning gray, Deckt with the ruddy gliſter of her loue, is faire Samela. Like louely Thetis on a calmed day. When as her brightneſſe Neptunas fancy moue, ſhines faire Samela. Her treſſes gold▪ her eyes like glaſſie ſtreames, Her teeth are pearle, the breſts are ivory, of faire Samela. Her cheekes like roſe & lilly yeeld forth gleames, Her browes bright arches framde of ebony: thus faire Samela Paſſeth faire Venus in her braueſt hiew, And Inno in the ſhew of maieſtie for ſhe •• Samela. P • llas in 〈◊〉 all three if you will view, For beauty, 〈◊〉 , and matchleſſe dignitie, yeeld to Samela.

Thou ha •• ( 〈◊〉 Melic •• us) made ſuch a deſcription▪ as 〈…〉 ſhould painſt • nt the perfection of his 〈…〉 thinkes the Idea of her perſon repreſents 〈…〉 an obiect to my ſan •• e, and that I ſee in the diſcouerie of her excellence, the rare beauties of-: and with that he 〈…〉 as it ſéemed his heart 〈…〉 as the Lapithes when they 〈…〉 . Doron maruelling at this ſodaine euent, was halfe afraid, as if ſome apopl •• y had aſtonied his ſenſes, ſo that chéering vp his friend, he demanded what the cauſe was of this •• daine conceit. Melicertus no niggard in diſcouerie of his fortunes, began thus: I tell thée Doron, before I kept ſheepe in Arcadle, I was a ſhepheard elſewhere, ſo famous for my flockes, as Menaphon for his foldes; beloued of the Nimphes, as he likte of the Country Damſels; coueting in my loues to vſe Cupids wings, to ſoare high in my deſires, though my ſelfe were borne to baſe fortunes. The hobby catcheth no prey, vnleſſe ſhe mount beyond her marke, the Palme tree beareth moſt boughes where it groweth higheſt, & loue is moſt fortunate where his courage is 〈◊〉 , and though beyond his compaſſe. Grounding therefore on theſe principles, I fixt mine eies on a Nimph, whoſe parentage was great, but her beauty far more excellent▪ her birth was by many degrees greater then mine, and my worth by many diſcents leſſe then hers: yet 〈◊〉 Venus loued Adonis; and Luna Endymion, that Cupid had boltes feathered with the plumes of a Crowe, as well as with the pennes of an Eagle: I attempted, and courted her, I found her lookes lightning diſdaine, and her forehead to containe fauours for others, and frownes for me • when I alleaged faith, ſhee croſt me with Aeneas: when loyaltie, ſhe told 〈…〉 when I ſwore conſtancie, 〈…〉 when I craued a finall reſolution 〈…〉 , ſhee • ld her browes full of wrinckles, and her eyes full of furie, turned her back, and ſhooke 〈◊〉 off with a Non placet. Thus in loues I loſt loues, and for her loue had loſt all, had I not when I néere deſpayred the 〈◊〉 of ſome court • ous ſtarre, or rather the very excellence of ſ • me Miſtri • fauors ſalued my halfe deſpayring maladie: for ſhée ſéeing that I held a ſuperſtitious opinion of l • ue, in honouring him for a Deitie, not in counting him a vaine conceite of Poetrie, that I thought it ſacriledge to wrong my deſires, and the baſeſt fortune to inhaunce my fortune by falſ • fyng my loues to a woman, ſhee left from being ſo rammag • , and gently came to the firſt, and granted mee thoſe ſauours ſhee might affoord or my thoughts deſire: with this he • 〈◊〉 and fell againe to his ſigh •• , which Doron noting, anſwered thus. If (my good 〈◊〉 ) thou didſt enioy thy loues, what is the occaſion thou beginneſt with ſigh •• , and endeſt with paſſions? Ah, Doron, there ends my ioyes, for no ſooner had I triumpht in my fauours, but the 〈◊〉 of my fortunes fell like the hearbes in Syria, that flouriſh in the morne, and fade before night • o • like vnto the flye Tyryma, that taketh life, and leaueth it all in one day. So (my Doron) did it fare with me, for I had, no ſooner enioyed my loue, but the heauens (enuious a ſhepheard ſhould haue the fruition of ſuch a heauenly Paragon) ſent vnr • uocable Fates to depriue me of her life, and ſhée is dead: Dead Doron: to her, to my ſelfe, to all, but not to my memorie, for ſo déepe were the caracters ſtamped in my inward ſenſes, that obliuion can neuer raſe out the forme of her excellence. And with that hée 〈…〉 out of thoſe dumpes with muſicke, (for he played on his 〈◊〉 certaine 〈◊〉 he had contriued in prayſe of the country 〈◊〉 ) but plaine as Doron, as plaine 〈…〉 him to 〈◊〉 roundel • y, & he 〈…〉 to this effect.

D • r • n • I • gge. Through the ſhrubs as I can cracke, For my Lambes pretty one • , Mongſt many little on •• , Nymphes I meane, whoſe haire was blacke, As the Crow, Like the ſnow, Her face and brow •• ſhine I weene, I ſaw a little one, A bonny pretty one, As bright, buxome, and as ſheene, As was ſhe On her knee, That lul • d the God, whoſe arrowes warnes, Such merry little ones, Such faire fac'de pretty ones, As dally in loues chiefeſt harmes: Such was mine, Whoſe gray 〈◊〉 Made me loue. I ga • to wo • This ſweet little one, This bonny pretty one, I wooed hard a day or two, Till ſhe bad, Be not ſad, Woo no more, I am thine owne, Thy decreſt little one, Thy trueſt pretty one: Thus was faith and firme loue ſhowne, As behoues Shepheards loues.

How like you this ditt • e of mine owne 〈◊〉 , qu • th Doron? As well as my muſ • cke, replyed Melicertus; for if Pan and I ſtri • e, Midas being Iudge, and ſhould hap to giue me the garland, I doubt not but his Aſſes eares ſhould be doubled: but Doron, ſo long we diſpute of 〈◊〉 , and forget our labors, that • ath our 〈…〉 to morrow our merry meeting hindred. That is true (quoth Doron) for there will bee all the 〈…〉 and countrey Damſels, and amongſt th • m 〈…〉 Men • pho • will bring 〈…〉 thee, and therefore good Melicertus, 〈◊〉 bee going. With this prattle, away they went to their 〈◊〉 , where we 〈◊〉 them and returne to Memphon, who triump 〈◊〉 in y• hope of his new loues, cauſed Samela to tric • e 〈…〉 her country attire, and 〈◊〉 her ſelfe braue againſt 〈…〉 th • n thought, to be coy were to diſcouer her thoughtes, 〈◊〉 her ſelfe vp in • rm ruſſe 〈…〉 and that 〈◊〉 as if Venus in 〈…〉 had thought 〈…〉 it with her lou • ly 〈◊〉 . The 〈…〉 , and 〈◊〉 they went, but Lamedon was left behind to keepe the houſe▪ At the hour • appointed, M • naph • n, C • mela, 〈…〉 came, when all the 〈…〉 make mercy. 〈◊〉 as word was brought, that Menaphon 〈…〉 new 〈◊〉 a • the company began to 〈…〉 to prepare his eye for 〈…〉 a Heards • a • s daughter of the ſame Pariſh, that long had 〈◊〉 Menaphon, & hee had filled her 〈◊〉 with ſtownes, 〈…〉 with 〈◊〉 , and her heart with griefe; yet 〈…〉 her 〈…〉 who 〈◊〉 that inſtant came with Menaphon in to the houſe. No ſooner was ſhe entred into the parlour, but her ryes gaue ſuch a ſhine, and her face ſuch a brightneſſe, that they 〈…〉 and ſhe 〈…〉 her ſelfe among ſo many vnknowne 〈…〉 ſuch a vermilion bluſh, that the countrey 〈…〉 themſelues fell in loue with this faith Nimph, 〈…〉 not 〈◊〉 Menaphon for being ouer the 〈◊〉 with ſuch a beautifull creature. Doron •• gged Melicertus 〈…〉 and ſo awak • him out of a dr •• me: for he was d •• yly drowned, in the contemplation 〈◊〉 excellencie; ſending out 〈◊〉 of ſighes in remembrance of his old 〈…〉 meditating on her fauour, how much ſhee reſembled her that death had depriued him of: wel, her welcome was great of al the company, and for that ſhe was a ſtranger, 〈…〉 to make her the miſtris of the 〈◊〉 Menaphon, 〈…〉 no ſmall 〈◊〉 the aduancing of his 〈◊〉 , • oing paſſing 〈◊〉 and pleaſant with the reſt of the companie, inſomuch that euery one perceiued how the po • re Swai ••• fed vpon the dignities of his Miſtris graces. 〈…〉 this, 〈…〉 and Caimela winking vpon her fellowes, anſwered her 〈◊〉 with a 〈◊〉 , which doubled her griefe▪ for 〈◊〉 paines are more pinching i • they he gi • ded with a 〈◊〉 , then if they bee galled with a 〈…〉 , Whiles thou there was 〈◊〉 of ſuch lookes, as euery 〈…〉 an 〈◊〉 Sal •• la willing to ſee, the faſhion of theſe country yong Frowes, caſt her eyes abroad, and in viewing euery face, at laſt her eyes glanced an the leakes of Melicertus, whoſe countenance reſembled 〈…〉 Lord, that as his face, but 〈…〉 vpon • ſtranger, ſhe reſtraint of her leakes; and ſo taking her 〈…〉 particular abi •• t, 〈…〉 abroad to make generall ſuruey of their Countre •• deme 〈…〉 all this gazing, hee that 〈…〉 the face, fearing their eyes ſhould féed or ſurfet on his Miſtris beautie: if they glanced, hee thought ſtrait they would be Riuals in his loues; if they •• atly lookt▪ then they were déepely 〈◊〉 in affection if they once 〈…〉 , they had receiued ſome glance from 〈◊〉 that ma • e them ſo 〈◊〉 if ſhe laught, ſhe 〈◊〉 • nd at that hee 〈…〉 thus ſat • poore Menaphon all dinner while pained with a thouſand iealous paſſions, keeping his téeth garders of his ſtomacke, and his eyes, watchmen of his l •• es: but Melicertus halfe impatient of his new conceiued thought • , determined to try how the Damſell was brought vp, and whether 〈◊〉 was as 〈◊〉 〈…〉 •• gan to brake • ilence 〈◊〉 .

The • r •• es which the 〈…〉 the 〈◊〉 which the 〈…〉 by, were neuer • o 〈…〉 • aies they did 〈…〉 ple • ſan • pa ••• es▪ were i • not 〈…〉 famous for the beauty of the 〈…〉 roundel •••• o • our 〈…〉 diſgra •• ▪ 〈…〉 day with ſuch 〈…〉 country ſwaines ſ •••• 〈…〉 company • am • els both 〈…〉 entertaine them ••• th prettie to • ry ••• wits▪ 〈…〉 to this they all agréed with a Plaudite. • he • quoth Melicertus: by your leaue, ſince I was •• r •• in 〈…〉 , I 〈◊〉 •• fir • t in queſtion, and therfore 〈◊〉 come 〈…〉 ▪ •• rſt to you: at this Samela bluſht▪ and he began 〈◊〉 .

Faire Da •• e • l, when Nar • us chattes with Iu • o ▪ hee ha • pardon, in that his 〈…〉 more to 〈…〉 the goddeſſe, then to 〈◊〉 his 〈◊〉 pr • ſ • mp • ion▪ i • I, 〈…〉 be ouerbold, forgiue me: I reque • t not 〈…〉 〈◊〉 from • ed • omneſſe. Then gentle 〈…〉 if you ſhould be 〈◊〉 : 〈…〉 the anger of the gods▪ into 〈◊〉 ſhips▪ what creature would you 〈…〉 〈…〉 Samela bluſhing that ſhe was 〈…〉 yet 〈…〉 pregnant wit, 〈◊〉 the 〈…〉 loue) made him this anſwe • e▪

Gentle ſhepheard, 〈…〉 maidens to coy: leſt the 〈…〉 the other 〈…〉 w • et •• ne • , and by 〈…〉 • eſ • iphere • in •• rne •• 〈…〉 in crauing pardon, when you 〈…〉 graunt of pardon. •• er ••• re • to ••• r • u ••• ion▪ Daphne, I remem ••• , 〈…〉 〈…〉 Virgins 〈…〉 according to their merits, but if my wiſh might ſerue for a Metamorpho ••• , I would bee • urned into • ſheepe▪ • ſhéepe▪ and why ſo miſtris? I reaſon thus, quoth Samela, my ſuppoſition ſhould bée ſimple, my life quiet, my 〈◊〉 the pleaſant pla • nes of Arcadie, and the wealthy riches of F •• r • , my 〈◊〉 the c ••• e ſtreames that flow from the 〈…〉 of this continent, my aire ſhould be cl •• re, my walkes ſpacious, my thoughts at eaſe, and can there 〈◊〉 ſhepheard) a • y better premiſſes to conclude my reply than theſe? But haue you no other allegations 〈…〉 your reſolution? Yes ſir quoth ſhe, and farre greater▪ • hen the law of our firſt motion, quoth hes, commands you to repeat them. Far be it, anſwered Samela, that I ſhould not doe of free-will any thing that this pleaſant company commands: therefore thus; were I • ſheepe, I ſhould hee guarded from the ſaldes with iolly Swaines, ſuch as was Lunas Loue on the hilles of Lat • os; their pipes ſounding like the melodie of Mercurie, when he luld aſléep • Argus: but more, when the Damſels tracing along the Pl • ines, ſhould with their eyes like Sun-bright beames draw on looke • to 〈◊〉 on ſuch ſparkling 〈…〉 weary with • eede, ſhould I lie and looke 〈◊〉 their beautie • , 〈◊〉 the •• otted wealth of the richeſt 〈…〉 I ſhould liſten ſo their ſweete laies, more 〈…〉 Syr • ns: thus féeding on the 〈◊〉 of their 〈◊〉 I ſhould like the Tyrian better fall 〈…〉 with 〈◊〉 darling. I but, quoth Melicertus, theſe faire-faced damſels oft draw forth the kindeſt ſhéepe 〈…〉 And what of that Sir, anſwered Samela, 〈…〉 with beauty, die for loue? 〈…〉 there is more kindneſſe in • eaſte, 〈…〉 they die 〈◊〉 loue when larkes die 〈…〉 they ſhew 〈…〉 sparks they haue of 〈…〉 they draw 〈◊〉 their 〈…〉 the Sea 〈…〉 anſwered 〈…〉 of a weathercocke, that brought forth ſuch a wauerin • companion: for you, • ▪ Menaphon ▪ meaſure your l •• kes by minutes, and your loues are like lightning▪ which no ſ •• ner •• aſh on the eye, but they vaniſh. It is then▪ quoth Menaphon, becauſe mine eye is a • ooliſh iudge, and 〈◊〉 ••• baſely: which when my hart 〈…〉 , it caſts away •• re • uſe. It were beſt then▪ ſaid Peſana, to diſcharge ſuch 〈◊〉 iudges of their • eates, and to • et your eare • • earers of your loue pleas. If they •• ult, quoth Melicertus, euery market • owne ha • h a remedie, • r el • e there is neuer a • aker 〈…〉 . Stay, cur ••• us ſhepheard • , quoth Samela, the • e ie •• s are t • o broad before, they are • ynicall like Diogenes • ui • s▪ that had large • eathers and ſharp 〈◊〉 ▪ it little 〈◊〉 in •• is company to bandy ta • nts o • loue▪ ſéeing you are • nwedded▪ and theſe all maidens a •• icted to chaſtitie. You ſ •• ake well as a patroneſſe of our credite, quoth Peſana, for in • éede we be virgins, and •• icte • to virginitie▪ • ow (quoth Menaphon) that you haue got a Virgin in your mouth, you will neuer leaue ch • nting the word▪ • ill you prooue your ſelfe either a Veſtall or a • ibill▪ Suppoſe ſhe were a Veſtall, quoth Melicertus, I had almoſt ſaid a Virgin (but God forbid I had ma •• ſuch a •• ubtfull ſuppo •• tion) ſhe might carrie water with Amulia in a •• ue: for •• ongſt all the reſt o • virgi •• ▪ we rea •• o • none but her that wrought ſuch a miracle▪ Peſana hearing 〈◊〉 pleaſantly Melicertus 〈◊〉 with her 〈◊〉 , • hou • ht to • iue him • great •• ne to • nawe •• on▪ which 〈◊〉 caſt in • i • 〈◊〉 thus bri •• ely. I remember 〈◊〉 , • hat Epicurus meaſured euery mans diet by his 〈◊〉 princ • ples: Apr • da • the great • acedonian pir •• , thought euery one had a letter of 〈◊〉 that ſailes in the Ocean: none 〈◊〉 to kn • cke at Diogenes 〈◊〉 ▪ 〈◊〉 was ſu •••• ed a C • nick; and ••• cie 〈…〉 to 〈◊〉 vanitie • , that you will t ••• ke Veſta a 〈…〉 of poetrie▪ Samela 〈◊〉 theſe 〈…〉 brake off their 〈◊〉 with 〈…〉 to end 〈◊〉 ſ • ri • e▪ I pray you let •• 〈◊〉 the o ••• ion of Doron, •• r all this while neither 〈◊〉 • or C ••• ela haue • ttered one word, but • ate as cenſors at our pleas: • were neceſſarie he told vs how his heart came thus on his halfepeny. Doron hearing Samela thus pleaſant, made preſently this 〈◊〉 reply: 〈◊〉 was ( 〈◊〉 miſtris) in ſolemne doubt with my ſelfe, whether in being a ſhepe, you would be a r • m or an we? an 〈◊〉 no doubt, quoth Samela, for • ornes are the 〈◊〉 but then that the head can bears: As Doron was ready to reply, came in ſuddenly to this parly • ours or ſ • ue old ſhepheards: who broke off their prat •• e, that from that, they fell to drinking: and • o after ſome •• rley of their ſtockes, euery one departed to their owne 〈◊〉 , where they talked of the 〈◊〉 perfection of Samela, eſpecially Melicertus, who gotten to his owne cottage, and lien downe in his couch by 〈…〉 on Samelaes ſhape.

Ah Melicertus, what an obiect fortune this day brought to thy eyes! preſenting a ſtrange Idaea to thy ſight, as appeared to Achilles of his dead friend Patroclus, treſſes of gold like the •• ammels of Sepheſtiaes 〈◊〉 a face fairer then Venus, ſuch was Sepheſtia▪ her eye paints her out Sepheſtia, her voice ſounds her out Sepheſtia, ſhe ſéemeth none but Sepheſtia: but ſeeing ſhee is de • d, and there liues not ſuch another Sepheſtia. ſue to her and loue her, for that it is either a ſelfe-ſame or another Sepheſtia, In this hope Melicertus tell to his ſlumber, but Samela was not content: for ſhe beganne thus to muſ • with her falſe: May this Melicertus be a ſhepheard▪ or can a countrie cottage affoord ſuch perfection▪ doth this coaſt bring forth ſuch excellencie? then happy are the virgin that ſhall haue ſuch ſuters, and the wiues ſuch pleaſing huſbands, but his face is not in: 〈◊〉 with any 〈…〉 his browes containe the characters of nobility, and his looks in ſhepheards wee • are lordly his voice pleaſing, his 〈…〉 of gentrie: weigh all theſe equally, and 〈◊〉 Samela, is it not thy Maximu • ? 〈…〉 away with theſ • 〈…〉 could the dreaming of 〈◊〉 call Hec • or from his graue? or can the 〈◊〉 my huſband raſſe 〈◊〉 from the ſeas? Tush, 〈◊〉 •• t to ſuch v • nitie • ▪ •• i • dead, and there • ore g • ieue not t •• me • ory with the ima • ina •• on of 〈◊〉 • ew reuiu • , • o • there h ••• •• ene • ut one 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 • o • ée Virbuius ▪ tw • c • a man: to ſa ••• Samela then this ſuppoſe▪ i • they court th • e with 〈◊〉 ▪ • ntertaine them with • oſe • : 〈…〉 i • • ee woo▪ • ee wooed and • or no 〈◊◊〉 , 〈…〉 like M • ximus. Thus • ee reſted▪ and 〈◊〉 ſhee ſ ••• t, all •• rties, • eing equally content and ſatiſ • ied with 〈◊〉 exc • p • Pelana, who • ettered with the 〈◊〉 •• h • r • e •• • el • ued Menahpon, 〈◊〉 c • rſ • n • Cupid 〈…〉 • eitie, that would make more • ay-light i • the •• r ••• ent then o •• 〈◊〉 ▪ more raine 〈…〉 Iris and more loues in o • e •• art th • n o • e ſettled paſſion: many prayer • 〈◊〉 made to Venus • or re •• n •• , many 〈◊〉 to Cupid ▪ many • ri • ans to Him •• n • us ▪ 〈…〉 the • y • e o • • er • e •• res. Well 〈◊◊〉 ▪ 〈…〉 ſhée wa • 〈◊〉 ▪ ſhe •• ot • ered all with •• t • enc • ▪ and thou • ht •• 〈◊〉 loue 〈…〉 not to loue and thus thee d • ily▪ • r • ue out •• e 〈◊◊〉 labour and looking to her herd, •• a •• n • euery • ay by Doron who was 〈◊〉 • inſman▪ what ſu ••• ſſe Menaphon had in his loues▪ Thus 〈◊〉 and 〈…〉 to make a more • l • aſing▪ 〈…〉 among • t the • th •• . Melicertus 〈…〉 • s •• was wont to doe with his 〈◊〉 ▪ dro •• 〈◊〉 • raze •• 〈◊〉 the ſwaines of Menaphon 〈…〉 entertained 〈◊〉 : who a •• ord ••• t • 〈…〉 euery day▪ Melicertus ▪ 〈…〉 daughter at the moſt, could n • t tell • o •• to cour • • er: yet, at length calling to remem • ra • ce • er 〈◊〉 • it •• ſ •• uered in their l ••• • iſ • ourſ •• ▪ 〈…〉 • all and ra •• et▪ ſéeing • he 〈…〉 but Samela and • e were in the 〈◊〉 , • e le •• •• s •• ocke • n the valley, and •• e • t unto •• r▪ and ſalu • ed her thus.

• iſtris, •• all e ••• that • lance • ut at ••• • xcellence o • your • erfection, • oueraigne of al ſuch as Venus •• th 〈◊〉 for 〈◊〉 , Oenones • uer-match, Arcadie • co • e • , bea •• ies ſecond 〈◊〉 , all 〈◊〉 : 〈…〉 like Iuno when ſhe •• r •• w • tcht her wh •• e • e •• er •• the 〈…〉 , as bright as 〈◊〉 Phoe • e • ou •• e • on the • i • • oy of the r •• dy element, I was by a ſtrange • ttractiu • • orce • rawne, as the adamant drawes the yron, or the 〈◊〉 the ••• aw, to 〈◊〉 your ſwéete ſel • e in the •• ade, and 〈◊〉 you ſuch companie as a poore Swaine may y •• •• wi •• out 〈◊〉 ▪ which if you ſhal vouch to 〈◊〉 of, I ſhall be •• gla • of ſuch 〈…〉 , as Paris wa • •• rſt •• his • e •• • eloue • •• ramour▪ Samela looking vpon the ſhepheards 〈◊〉 , 〈…〉 broken ſ • ghes, thought to be pleaſan • wi •• her ſhepheard thus: Arcadies Apollo, wh • ſe brig ••••• 〈◊〉 euery 〈◊〉 to • u •• as the He • o •• opion doth 〈…〉 of ſhepheards the 〈…〉 • pirit, wo • en • wrong, in wronging many with 〈◊〉 • u • 〈◊〉 ▪ 〈◊〉 welc •• e, as we vouchſa • e •• your ſeruice, 〈◊〉 of your com •• ny, as of him that is the 〈◊〉 of all 〈◊〉 , and 〈…〉 vpon any light par •• would 〈…〉 you to 〈…〉 your cunnin • , Samela m • de this reply▪ b • ca • ſe •• e •• ar • • im • o ſuper • ne, as i • Eph •••• h • d 〈◊〉 him to 〈◊〉 his mothers 〈…〉 borne 〈◊〉 to • ée 〈◊〉 : and Melicertus •••• k • ng Samela had learned wi • h Luci •• a i • At • e •• , 〈…〉 non • • ut ſi • il •• , • ma • ine • 〈◊◊〉 her 〈◊〉 t • • ee •• ought l • ke Sap • o, 〈…〉 either in 〈…〉 Samela 〈…〉 Pri ••• u • •• nton 〈◊〉 n • t • e with •• t 〈◊〉 o • Nimphes to • ollow • im in the • ale •• I • a, • e •• ty 〈…〉 attend her excellency: if the •• e •• eard be true: i • likeNarciſſus you wra • not your 〈◊〉 in 〈◊◊〉 of • iſ • aine, you cannot but haue 〈◊〉 rare ••• ag • n to your 〈◊〉 , whom I would haue you 〈…〉 • eſcribe as loues la •• loue, if • oue could 〈◊〉 Iuno: • hy 〈◊〉 ſhal 〈◊〉 and I a • uenture with my voyce to ſet out my miſtris • auour, for your excellence to 〈…〉 ther • ore •• us: yet, Melicertus, for that he • a • a • urther reach, would not make any clowniſh • eſcr •••• on, chanted it thus c ••• ingly.

Melicertus deſcription of his Miſtris. Tune on my Pipe, the prayſes of my loue, And midſt thy Oaten 〈…〉 . How faire ſhe is that makes by miſtake moun • And euery ſtring of thy hearts Harpe to moue, Shall I compare her forme vnto the Spheare, Whence Sun-bright Venus 〈◊〉 her ſiluer ſhine? Ah, more then that by iuſt compare is thine, Whoſe Criſtall lookes the cloudy heauens doe cleare. How oft haue I deſcending Ti ••• ſeene, His burning locks couch in the ſea? Queenes lap, And beauteous Th ••• his red bodie wrap, In watry robes, as he her Lord had b •• ne? When as my Nymph impatient of the • ight, Bade bright Atre •• with his traine giue place, Whiles ſhe led forth the day with her faire face, And lent each ſtarre a more then Delia • light. Not • oue or nature (ſhould they both agree, To make a woman of the firmament, Of his mixt puritie) could not inuent A skieborne forme ſo beautifull as ſhee.

When Melicertus had ended this roundelay in prayſe of his Miſtris, Samela perceiued by his deſcription, that either ſome better Poet then himſelfe had made it, or elſe that his former phraſe was diſſembled: wherfore to try him throughly, & to ſée what ſnake lay hid vndoe the graſſe, ſhe followed the chace in this manner. Melicertus, might not a ſtranger craue your Miſtris name? At this the ſhepheard bluſht, and made no reply. How now, quoth Samela▪ what? is ſhée ſo meane that you ſhame, or ſo high that you feare to bewray the ſoueraigne of your thoughts? ſtand not in doubt man: for bee ſhee baſe, I read that mightie Tamberlaine after his wiſe Xenocrate (the worlds faire eye) paſſed out of the theatre of this mortall life, he choſe ſtigmaticall Tru • s to pleaſe his humorous fancie. Be ſhée a Princeſſe, honour hangs in high deſires, and it is the token of a high muld to venter for a Ouéene: then gentle ſhepheard tell me thy miſtris name. Melicertus, hearing his Goodeſſe ſpeake ſofauorably, Breathed out this ſodaine reply: high Samela, and therefore I feare with the Syrian Wolues to barke againſt the Moone, or with them of Scyrum, to ſhoote againſt the Starres in the height of my thoughts ſoaring too high, to fall with wofull repenting Ica • is: No ſooner did mine • ye glance vpon her beautie, but as if loue and fate had ſate to forge my fatall diſquiet, they trapt me within her lookes, and haling het Idaea through the paſſage of my ſight, placed it ſo déeply in the center of my heart, as ma • ger all my ſtudious endeuor it ſtill and euer will keepe reſtleſſe poſſeſſion: Noting her vertues, her beauties, her perfections; her excellence, and feare of her too high borne parentage, though painefully fettered, yet haue I ſtill feared to dare ſo hauty an attempt to ſo braue a perſonage: leſt ſhe offenſiue at my preſumption, I periſh in the height of my thoughts. This concluſion broken with an abrupt paſſion, could not ſo ſatiſfie Samela, but ſhe would be further inquiſitiue. At laſt, after many queſtions, he anſwered thus: ſéeing, Samela, I conſume my ſelfe, and diſpleaſe you, to hazard for the ſalue that may cure my maladie, and ſatiſfie your queſtion, know it is the beauteous Samela. Be there more of that name in Arcadie, beſide my ſelfe, qd. ſhe? I know not, ſaid Melicertus, but were there a million, only you are Melicertus Samela: but of a million, quoth ſhe, I cannot he Melicertus Samela: for loue hath put one arrow of deſire in his quiuer, but one ſtring to his how, and in choice but one ayme of affection. Haue yée alreadie, ſaid Melicertus, ſet your reſt vpon ſome higher Perſonage? No, ſaid Samela, I meane by your ſelfe, for I haue heard that your fancie is linked alredy to a beautiful ſhepherdeſſe in Arcadie. At this the poore Swaine tainted his chéeks with a vermillion die, yet thinking to carry out the matter with a ieſt, he ſtood to his tackling thus: whoſoeuer, Samela, deſcanted of that loue, told you a Canterburie Tale, ſome propheticall full mouth, that as hee were a Coblers eldeſt ſon, would by the Laſt, tell where and thers ſhee wrings, but his ſowterly ayme was iuſt leuell, in thinking euery looke was loue, or euery faire word a pawne of loyalty. Then ſaid Samela, taking him at a rebound, Neither map I thinke your glances to be fancies, nor your greateſt proteſtation any aſſurance of déepe affection: therefore ceaſing off to court any further at this time, thinke you haue proued your • ſelfe too tall a ſouldier to continue ſo long at battery, and that I am a fauourable ſoe that haue continued ſolong at parly: but I change you by the loue you a we your déereſt miſtris, not to ſay any more as to • ching loue at this time. It Samela, ſaid he, thou hadſt ini • yned me as Iuo • . did to Hercules, moſt dangerous labours, I would haue diſcouered my loue by obedience, and my affection by death: yet let me craue this, that as I began with a Sonnet, ſo I may end with a Madrigall. Content, Melicertus, quoth ſhe, for none more then I loue muſich▪ Vpon this reply the ſhepheard proudtu, followed with this ditty.

Melicertus Madrigall. What are my ſheepe without their wonted foode? What is my life except I gaine my loue? My ſheepe conſume and faint for want of blood, My life is loſt vnleſſe I grace approue. No flower that ſapleſſe • hriues, No Turtle without pheare. The day without the Sunne, doth lowre for woe, Then woe mine eyes, vnleſſe thy beauty ſee My Sunne Samelaes eyes, by who 〈◊〉 know Wherein delight canſiſ • s where pleaſure • be. Nought more the heart reuiues Th •• to 〈…〉 his deare, The ſtarres from earthly earthly 〈…〉 their light, Our humors by their ligh • poſſeſſe their power: Samelaes eyes fed by any weepi • e ſights, Iufud • s my paines or i • yes, by ſmile or lowr • . So wends the ſource of loue, It feedes, it falles, it ends. Kind lookes cleare to your ioy, behold her eyes, Admire her heart, deſire to taſte her kiſſes; In them the heauen of ioy and ſolace lies: Without them eu'rie hope his ſuccour miſſes. Oh how I loue to proue, Whereto this ſolace tends.

Scarce had the Shepheard ended this Madrigall, but Samela began to frowne, ſaying he had broken promiſe. Mel • certus alleaged, if he had vttered any paſſion, twas ſung, not ſaid. Thus theſe louers, in a humorous deſcant of their prattle, eſpied a far off olde Lamedon and Menaphon comming towards them: whereupon kiſſing in conceit, and prattling with interchanged glances, Melicerius • tole to his ſheepe, and Samela • ate her downe making of nets to ca • eh birds. At laſt, Lamedon and her loue came, & after many gracious looks, and much good parly, helpt her home with her ſhéepe, & put them in the folds: but leauing theſe amorous ſhepherds buſie in their loues, let vs returne at length to the pretty babie Samelas childe, whom Menaphon had put to norſe in the country. This infant being by nature beautiful, and by birth noble, euen in his cradle expreſt to the eyes of the gazers, ſuch glorious preſages of his approching fortunes, as if another Alciades (the arm-ſtrong d • rling of the doubled night) by wreſtling with ſnakes in his ſwa • dling • lowtes, ſhould propheſſe to the world the approching wonders of his proweſſe: ſo did his fiery looks reflect •• rror to the weak beholders of his ingrafie • nobilitie, as if ſome God twice-borne, like to the Th • ra • ian Bac •••• , 〈◊〉 his he auen-borne deitie, ſhould delude our eies with the alternate form of his infancie. Fiue yéeres had full run their monthly reuolution, when as this beautious boy began to ſhew himſelfe among the ſhepheards children, with whom he had no ſooner contracted familiar acquaintance, but ſteaite he was choſen Lord of the May-gam • , king of their ſports, & Ringleader to their reuel • inſomuch that his 〈◊〉 or another 〈◊〉 holding him by chaunce, • ounted in his Kingly Maieſtie, and imitating honourable iuſtice in his gameſ •• e exercite of diſcipline, with teares of ioy tooke vp theſe propheticall termes: wel do I ſée, where God and Fat • hath vowed felicitie, no aduerſe fortune may expel proſperity. Pleuſid • pus thou art young, thy lookes high, and thy thoughts hautie, ſoueraignety is ſeated in thine eies, & honor in thy hart: I feare, this fire will haue his flame, and then am I vndone in thée my Son • y countrylife ( 〈◊〉 countrylife) in thy proude ſoaring hopes, diſpoited and diſr • abed of the diſguiſed array of his reſt, muſt returne ru •• et wéedes to the folds where I left my feares, & haſte to the court of my hell, there to inueſt me with my wonted cares: how now Samela, wilt thou be a Sybill of miſhaps to thy ſelfe? The angry heauens that haue eterniz'd thy exile, haſte eſtabliſh • thy content in Arcady, my content in Arcady, that we may be no longer then my Pleuſidippus daies in Arcady, which I haue cauſe to feare: for the whelpes of the Lyon are no longer harmeleſſe then when they are whelpes, and babes are no longer to be awed then while they are babes. I, but nature: & ther with ſhe pauſed, being interrupted by a tumult of boyes, that by yong Pleuſidippus command fell vpon one of their fellowes, and beat him moſt cruelly for playing falſe play at Nineholes: which ſhe eſpying through the lattice 〈…〉 not chuſe but ſmile aboue meaſure▪ but when ſhee ſaw him in his childiſh tearmes condemne one to death, for deſpiſing the authoritie bequeathed him by the reſt of the boyes, then ſhe bethought her of the Perſian Cyrus, that depoſed his Grandfather Aſtyages, whoſe vſe it was, at like age to imitate maieſtie in like manner. In this diſtraction of thoughts ſhe had not long time ſtayed, but Lamedon and Menaphon called her away to accompany them to the ſolds, whiles Pleuſidippus haſting to the execution of iuſtice, diſmiſſed of his boyiſh ſeſſion till their next meeting: where how imperiouſly hee behaued himſelfe in puniſhing miſorders amongſt his equalls, in vſing more then ieſting iuſtice towards his vntamed copeſmates, I referre it to the A • • als of the Arcadians that dilate not a little of this ingenious argument. In this ſort did Pleufidippus draw forth his infancie; till on a time walking to the ſhore, where he with his mother were wrackt, to gather Cockle and pebble ſtones, as children are wont: there arriued on the ſtrond a Theſſalian Pirate named Eurilochus, who after he had forraged in the Arcadian confines, driuing before him a large bootie of • eaſts to his ſhips, eſpied this pretty infant, when gazing on his face, as wanton Ioue gaze • on Phrygian Ganimede in the fields of Id • , he • exhaled into his eyes ſuch déepe impreſſion of his perfection, as that his thought neuer thirſted ſo much after any prey, as this pretty Pleuſidippus poſſeſſion: But determining firſt to aſſay him by curteſie, before he a •• ailed him with rigour, he began to try his wit after this manner. My little child, whence art thou, where wert thou borne, what is thy name, and wherefore wandereſt thou thus all alone on the ſhoare? I pray yee what are ye Sir, quoth Pleuſidippus, that deale thus with me by interrogatories, as if I were ſome run-away? Wilt thou not tell me then who was thy father? ſaid he, Good ſir, if ye will néeds know, goe aſke that of my mother. He hath ſaid well, my Lord, quoth Romanio, who was one of his ſpeciall aſſociates, for wiſe are the children in theſe dayes that know their owne fathers, eſpecially if they be begotten in dog-dayes, when their mothers are franticke with loue, & yong men furious for luſt. Beſides, who knowes not that theſe Arcadians are giuen to take the benefit of euery Hodge, when they will ſacrifice their virginitie to Venus, though they haue but a huſh of net • les for their bed? and ſure this boy is but ſome ſhepheards baſtard at the moſt, howſoeuer this wanton face importeth more then appearance. Pleuſidippus eyes at this ſpeech reſolued into • ire, and his face in purple with a more then common courage in children of his yéeres and ſtature, gaue him the lye roundly in this reply: Peſant, the baſtard in thy face, for I am a Gentleman: wert thou a man in courage, as thou art a cow • in proportion, thou wouldeſt neuer haue ſo much impaired thy honeſty, as to derogate from my honor. Look not in my face, but leuel at my heart by this that thou ſéeſt: & therwith he • et • riue at him with ſuch ptbble ſtones as he had in his hat, inſomuch that Romanio was driuen to his héeles, to ſhunne this ſuddaine haileſhot, and Eurilochus reſolued into laughter, and in termes of admiration moſt highly extolled ſo excéeding magnanimitie in ſo little a bodie: which how auailable it proued, to the confirmation of his fancie that was before inflamed with his features, let them imagine that haue noted the imbecillitie of that age, and the vnreſiſted furie of men at Armes. Sufficeth at this inſtant to vnfold (all of her circumſtances of praiſe laid apart) that Eurilochus being far in loue with his extraordinary lineamēts awaited no farther parly, but willed his men, perforce, to hopſe him a ſhip-boord, intending as ſoone as euer he arriued in Theſſalie, by ſending him to the Court as a preſent, to make peace with his Lord & Maſter Agenor, who not long before had proclaimed him as a notorious Pirat throughout all his dominions. Neither ſwarued hee one whit from his purpoſe: for no ſooner had he caſt anker in the port of Hadrianopolis, but he arraied him in choiſe ſilkes, and Tyrian purple, and ſo ſent him as a prize to the king of that Countrey: who walking as then in his Summer garden, with his Quéene the beauteous Eriphila, fell to diſcourſe (as one wel ſéene in Philoſophie) or Hearbs and flowers, as the ſauour or colour did occaſion: and hauing ſpent ſome time in diſputing their medicinable properties, his Lady reching him a Marigold, he began to moralize of it thus merrily: I maruell the Poets that w • re to prodigall in painting the amorous affection of the 〈◊〉 to his Hiacinth, did neuer obſerue the relation of loue twixt him and the Marigold: it ſhould ſéeme eyther they were loth to incurre the diſpleaſure of women, by propounding in the way of compariſon any ſer • ile imitation for head-ſtrong wiues, that loue no precepts leſſe then thoſe pertaining vnto dutie; or that the • lower not ſo vſuall in their gardens as ours, in her vnacquainted name, did obſcure the honour of her amours to Apollo, to whoſe motions reducing the method of her ſpringing, ſhée waketh and ſtéepeth, openeth and ſhutteth her golden leaues as he riſeth and ſetteth. Well did you fore-ſtall▪ my exception, quoth Etiphila, in terming it a ſeruile imitation: for were the condition of a wiſe ſo ſlauiſh, as your ſimilitude would inferre, I had as liefe be your page as your ſpouſe, your dog as your darling. Not ſo, ſwéet wife, anſwered Agenor, but the compariſon holdeth in this, that as the Marigold reſembleth the Sun both in colour and forme, ſo each mans wife ought euery way to be ye image of her huſband, framing her countenance to ſmile, when ſhee ſées him diſpoſed to mirth, and contrarywiſe her eyes to teares, hee being ſurcharge with melancholy: As the Marigold diſplayeth the orient ornaments of her beautie, and to the reſplendant view of none but her louer Hyperion: ſo ought not a woman of modeſtie lay open the allurements of her face to any but her eſpouſed Phéere, in whoſe abſence, like the Marigold in the abſence of the Sunne, ſhe ought to ſhut vp her dores, and ſolemnize continual night, til her huſband, her Sun making a happy returne, vnſealeth her ſilence with the ioy of hid ſight. Beléeue mee, but if all flowers (quoth Eriphila) affoord ſuch influence of eloquence to our aduerſe Orators, Ile exempt them all from my ſmell, for feare they be all planted to poiſon. Oft haue I heard (replyed Agenor) our cunning Phiſicians conclude, that one poiſon is harmeleſſe to another, which if they be ſo, there is no cauſe why a thiſtle ſhould feare to be ſ • ung of a Natile. I can tell you ſir, you were beſt beware, • eft in wading to • farre in compariſons o • thiſtles and Nettle • , you ochange not your Roſe for a Nettle. If 〈◊〉 Agenor, it is no more, but my gardener ſhall plucke it vp by the roots, and throw it ouer the wall as a wéed. To end this ieſt, which elſe would iſſue to a iarre, what purple flower is this in forme like a Hiacinth (quoth Eriphila) ſo cunningly dropped with bloud, as if nature had intermeddled with the Heralds art to • mblazon a bléeding heart? It 〈◊〉 flower, into which Poets faigne, Venus 〈◊〉 dying 〈◊〉 to hi • turn • d afaire Boy, but 〈…〉 it • oſſible ( 〈◊〉 Eriphil • ) that euer nature should be & ſo bounteous to a Boy, to giue him a face in deſpite of women ſo faira? faine would I ſée ſuch an obiect, and then would I defie beautie for imparting our excellencie to any infer obiect. In ſaying thoſe words, (as if fortune meant to preſent her fancie with her deſired felicitie) Romanio conducted by one of the Lorde, came with young Pleuſidippus in his hand into the priuie Garden: where diſcourſing vnto the King the intent of Eurilochus, in preſenting him with ſuch an ineſtimable Iewell, the manner of his taking of the Strond of Arcadie, with other circumſtances of vowed allegeance: all which being greatefully accepted of Agenor, hee ſealed their ſeuerall pardons, and gaue them leaue to depart. But when hee had thorowly obſerued euerie perfection of young Pleuſidippus, he burſt into theſe termes of paſſion: Had Sea-bo •• e P • ntia then an applyable eare in our idleneſſe, that to teſtifie her eternall Deity, ſhe ſhould ſend vs a ſecond Adonis, to delude our ſenſes? what euer may deſerue the name, faire haue I ſéene before, beautie haue I beheld in his brighteſt orbe, but neuer ſet eye on immortalitie before this houre. Eriphila, likewiſe in no leſſe extasie, ſéeing her eyes to • azle with the re •• exe of his beautie, and her chéeks tainted with a bluſh of diſgrace by t • o too much gazing on his face, ſaid: that either the Sun had left his b • wer to beguile their eyes with a borrowed ſhape (which could not keepe in his brightneſſe,) or Cupid diſ •• ounted from his mother • lap, left his how, & quiuer at random, to outbraue the Theſſalonian dames in their beautie. In this contrariety of thoughts, being all plunged wel-nigh in a ſpéechleſſe aſtoniſhment, the faire childe Pleuſidippus, not vſed to ſuch hyperbolicall ſpactators, broke off the ſilence, by calling for his victuals, as one whoſe empty ſtomacke ſlace his comming from ſea, was not ouer-cleped with delicates. Wherout Agenor, reuiued from him trance, wherein the preſent wonder had inwrapt him, demaunded ſuch queſtions 〈◊〉 his name and parentage, as the Pyrats ignorance could not vnfolde: but hée being able to tell no more then this, that his mother was a Shephear • eſſe, and his owne name, Pleuſidippus, cut off all other interrogatories, bp calling after his childiſh manner againe, for his dinner. Whereupon, Agenor, commanding him to bee had in, and vſed in euery reſpect as the childe of a Prince, began in his ſolitarie walke by his countenance to ralculate his Natiuitie, and meaſure his birth by his beautie, contracti • g him in thought, heire to the Kingdome of Theſſaly, and huſband to his daughter, before he knew whence the childe deſcended, or who was his father.

But leauing yong Pleuſidippus, thus ſpending his youth in the Theſſalian Court, protected with the tender affection of ſuch a courteous Foſter-father as Agenor, returne wee where wee left, backe into Arcadie, and meete his mother the faire Samela returning from the Foldes: who hauing diſcourſed by the way as ſhee came home to Lamedon and Menaphon, what ſhee late ſaw and obſerned in her Sonne, they both conioyned their iudgements to their concluſion, that he was doubtleſſe borne to ſome greater fortunes then ſheepcotes could containe, and therefore it behooued her to further his Deſtinies with ſome good and liberal education, and not to detaine him any longer in that trade of life, which his fortune withſtood: but by the way, to rebuke him for tyrannizing ſo Lordly ouer the Boyes, left the neighbour Shepheards might haply intrude the name of iniurie on them being Strangers; for his inſulting ouer their children. With this determination came ſhée home, and calling for Pleuſidippus, according to their former counſaile, hée would 〈◊〉 wiſe bee found. Thereupon enquirie was made among all the Shepheards, diligent ſearch in euery Village, but ſtil the moſt carefulleſt Poſt returned with, Non eſt in • entus. Which Samela hearing, thinking ſhee had vtterly loſt him whom fortune had ſaued, began in this manner to act her vnreſt: Diſſembling Heauens, where is your happineſſe? Vnconſtant times, what are your triumphes? Haue you therefore hitherto fed mee with • ouie, that ye might at laſt poyſon me with gall. Haue you • atted mee ſo long witly Sordenian ſmiles, that like the wracke of the Syrens, I might periſh in your wiles? Curſt that I was to a •• ie in your courteſſe • curſt that I am to taſte of your crueltie! O, Plouſidippus, liueſt thou, or art thou dead? No, thou art dead, dead to the world, dead to thy kinsfolkes, dead to Cypres, dead to Arcadie, dead to thy mother Samela: and with thee dyes the Worlds wonder, thy kinſfolkes comfort, Cypres ſoule, Arcadies hopes, thy mothers honors. Was this the prophecy of thy Soueraignty, to yéeld vp thy life: to death ſo 〈◊〉 ? wretched was I of all women, to bring the forth to this infencie.

O cruell The • i • , that didſt reuolue ſuch vneuitable fate: hard-hearted death to proſecute me with ſuch hate. Haue we therefore eſcap • e the • urio of the ſeas, to pepiſh on the land? was it not enough that we were exiled from higher proſperitie, but wee muſt all of vs ſuddenly be ouerwhelmed with the ouerflow of a ſecond aduerſitie? my huſband & my father to be ſwallowed in the fury of the furge, and now thou to be (and therewith her eies diſtilled ſuch aboundance of teares, as ſtopt the paſſage of her plaints, & made her ſéeme a more then ſecond Niobe, be wailing her ſeuenfold ſorrow vnder the forme of weeping Flint.) Menaphon, who had ouerheard her all this while, as one that ſought opportunitie to plead his vnreſt, perceiuing her in that extremitie of agony for her ſonnes ſuppoſed loſſe, ſtept to her preſently and chéered her vp in theſe theſe terme: faire ſhepherdeſſe, might y• 〈◊〉 of contritiā rayſe the dead frō deſtruction, then were it wiſdome to bewaile what wéeping might recall: but ſince ſuch anguiſh is fruitleſſe, and theſe plainings bootleſſe, comfort your ſelfe with the hope of the liuing, and omit the teares for the dead. Why, quoth Samela, how is it poſſible a woman ſhould loſe him without gr • efe, whom ſhee hath conceiued with ſorrowe he was, ſw •• te Menophon, the deuided halfe of my eſſence, ſoule to my ioyes, and life to my delights, as beaute • us in his birth, as is our bright how-hearing god, that played the Shepheard awhile for loue, amidſt our pleaſant Areadian downes. What euer he was in heautie, quoth Meniphon, procee • ed from your bountie, who may by marriage make his like when you pleaſe: therefore there is no cauſe, why you ſhould ſo much grieue to 〈◊〉 your firſt worke defaced, that of a new • old can forme a far better then euer he was 〈…〉 • ere more 〈◊〉 his like proceede from 〈◊〉 • oynes: I 〈…〉 hée made the Chamber bright with his beautie when he was borne, and check • the night with the golden rayes that gl • amed from his lookes: neuer more may • • e the mother of ſuch a 〈◊〉 . Yes, Samela (quoth the 〈…〉 but if thou wilt liſt to my loues, I will 〈◊〉 th • with is 〈…〉 reaſ • as euer he was. Alas, poore Swaine, ſaid • hée, thou hopeſt in vaine, fluee and her muſt reape what thou haſt ſowne, and gather into his 〈◊〉 , what thou haſt 〈◊〉 in the furrow. Another 〈◊〉 what I haue 〈◊〉 Therewith he • 〈…〉 and ſ • tting his cap, he could not tell which way, in a hot • 〈…〉 vttered theſe words of fury: 〈◊〉 of Greece, 〈◊〉 thou my loue with this 〈…〉 ingratitude? 〈◊〉 I therefore with my plentie ſupplyed thy 〈◊〉 , that thou 〈◊〉 thy pride ſhouldeſt 〈◊〉 my 〈…〉 thée iii 〈◊〉 , to wound me in thy welfare with diſdaine Deceitful woman (an • there with he ſwore a holiday oath, by 〈◊〉 the god of the ſepheards) either ret • rat loue for loue, or I will turne thée forth of dores to 〈…〉 canſt, and make thée pittied for thy pouertie, that 〈…〉 honored in euery mans eye through the ſupport 〈◊〉 of thy beautie. Be like then, quoth Same • a, when you on 〈◊〉 me into your houſe, you 〈◊〉 not in regard of the lawes of hoſpitaliti • , but only with this 〈…〉 the Armes of your fancie: then Sir, I haue 〈…〉 am leſſe indebled to your 〈…〉 I thought no leſſe, ſaid 〈◊〉 , when your ſtruggling eye at our laſt • eating, would 〈…〉 euery corner of our company, that you would proue ſuche kinde 〈◊〉 : but if you will néedes 〈…〉 you 〈◊〉 • aſter, I warrant you: thou ſée which of our heard leſſe yongſters wil take you in, when I haue caſt you forth. Th • ſe▪ ſaid ſhe, that out-countenante Menaphon and his • elfe, & are better able then your ſelfe: but howſoeuer I find their • auour, I henceforth de • ie you and your fellowſhip. And therewith in great rage ſhe flung away into the next chamber, where her vncle Lamedon lay ſleeping, who complaining of Menaphons diſcourteſſes, he ſtrait inuented this remedie: There was a Shepheard called Moron (brother to Doron) that not long before dyed of a ſurfet, whoſe houſe and flocke being ſet to ſale after his deceaſe, he bought them both forthwith for Samela, with certaine remainder of money he had, and therein enfeoffed her, mangre the ſurie of Menaphon, who when he ſaw ſhe was able to ſupport her ſtate without his purſe, became ſicke for anger, and ſ • ent whole Eglogues in anguiſh. Sometime lying comi • ties in his h • d, he would complain him to the windes, of his 〈◊〉 in theſe or ſuch like words: Forlorne, and forſook • , ſince Phiſicks doth lothe thée, deſpayre be thy death, loue is a god, and deſ • iſeth thée a man: fortune blinde, and cannot behold thy deſerts: die, did, fond Menaphon, that vngratefully haſt abandoned thy Miſtreſſe. And therewith ſtretehed himſelfe vpon his 〈◊〉 , as thinking to haue ſl • p • , he • was 〈◊〉 by cares that •• iled all reſt from his eyes; where vpon taking his Pipe in his hand, twin • playing and ſinging he plained him thus.

Menaphons Song in his bed. Your reſtleſſe cares, companions of the night, That wr • pt my ioyes, in folds of endleſſe woes: Tyre on my heart, and wound it wish your ſpight, Since loue and fortune proues my equall foes. Farewell my hopes, farewell my happy d • ies, Welcome, ſweet griefe, the ſubiect of my layes. Mourne heauens, mourne earth, your Shepheard is forlorne, Mourne times, and houres, ſince bale inuades by bowre, Curſe euery tongue, the place where I was borne, Curſe euery thought, the life which makes me lowre. Farewell my hopes, farewell my happy daies, Welcome, ſweet griefe, the ſubiect of my layes. Was I not free? was I not fancies ayme? Framde not deſire my face to front diſdainer I was; ſhe did: but now one ſilly maime Makes me to droope, as he whom loue hath ſlaine. Farewell my hopes, farewell my happy dayes, Welcome, ſweet griefe, the ſubiect of my layes. Yet drooping, and yet liuing to this death, I ſigh, I ſue for pittie at her ſhrine: Whoſe fierie eies exhale my vitall breath; And make my flockes with parching heat to pine. Farewell my hopes, farewell my happy dayes, Welcome, ſweet griefe, the ſubiect of my layes. Fade they, die I, long may ſhe liue to bliſſe, That feeds a wanton fire with fuell of her forme: And makes perpetuall ſummer where ſhe is, Whiles I doe cry, ore-tooke with enules ſtorme. Farewell my hopes, farewell my happy daies, Welcome, ſweet g • i • fe, the ſubiect of my layes.

No ſooner had Menaphon ended this Dittie, but Peſana hearing that he was lately falne ſicke, and that Samela and he were at mortall iarres, thinking to make hay while the Sunne ſhined, and take opportunitie by her forelocks, comming into his chamber, vnder pretence to viſit him, fell into theſe termes: Why, how now, Menaphon, hath your new change driuen you to a night-cap? Beleeue mee, this is the ſtrangeſt effect of loue that euer I ſaw, to fréeze ſo quickly the heart ye is ſet on fire ſo lately. Why, may it not be a burning feuer aſwell, quoth Menaphon, bluſhing? Nay, that can not bee, ſaid Peſana, ſince you ſhake for colde, not ſweate for heat. Why, if it be ſo, it is long of cold entertainment. Why, ſaid Peſana, hath your h • te entertainment r •• led your courage?

No, but her vndeſerued hate quite hindred my conqueſt. You know, ſaid Peſana, where you might haue beene let in long ere this, without either 〈◊〉 any ſuch batterie. With this the Shepheard was 〈◊〉 ▪ and Peſana aſhamed: but at length regathering his ſpiri •• , to bowray his Martyrdome, and make his old Miſtris ſome new muſicke, hee ſtrained forth this Dittie.

Faire fields proud Floras vaunt, Why is't you ſmile when as I languiſh? You golden meads, why ſtriue you to beguile my weeping anguiſh? I liue to ſorrow, you to pleaſure ſpring, why doe you ſpring thus? What will not B • re • temp • ſt • wrathfull King take ſome pittie on vs? And ſend forth winter in ruſtie weed, to waile my bemonings; Whiles I diſtreſt doe tune my Countrey •• ed vnto my g •• ings. But heauen, and earth, time, place, and euery power, haue with her conſpired, To turne my bliſſefull ſweet to balefull ſowre, ſince I fond deſired. The heauen, whereto my thoughts may not aſpire, aye me vnhappy: It was my fault t'imbrace my bane the fire, that forceth me to dye. Mine be my paine, but hers the cruell cauſe of thi • ſtrange torment: Wherefore no time my banning prayers ſhall pauſe, till proud ſhe repent.

Well I perceiue, ſaid Peſana, for all ſhee hath let you flye like a Hawke that hath loſt her tyre, yet you meane to follow ſute and ſeruice, though you get but a handful of ſmoke to the bargaine. Not ſo, ſaid Menaphon, but perhaps I ſéeke to returne an il bargaine, as deare as I bought it. If you do ſo, you are wiſer then this kercher ſheweth you, ſaid Peſana. Much idle prattle to this and had Menaphon with Peſana in his ſickneſſe; and long it was not, but that with good dyet and 〈…〉 (eſpecially by her carefull atdendance) he began to 〈◊〉 or vp his 〈◊〉 , and liſten by little and little to the lo •• 〈◊〉 ſtorned. Leaue we them to their equall 〈…〉 either of others ſocietie, and l • t vs looke backe to Theſſalie, where Samelac • ſtripling (now growne vp to the age of 16. yéeres) flouriſht in honor & feats of Armes aboue all the Knights of the Court, inſomuch, that the 〈◊〉 of his fame, was the only news talkt on throughout euery 〈◊〉 in Greece. But Olympia, the miſtris of his proweſſe (for 〈◊〉 was the Kings daughter named) was 〈◊〉 that moſt of all • xulted in the farre renowned reports of his martiall perfections, to whoſe prayſe hee did conſecrate all his ende • ours, to whoſe exquiſite forme hee did dedicate all his aduentures. But Hel-borne fame, the eldeſt daughter of Bryoni • , enuying the felicitie of theſe two famous louers, diſmounted eftſoones from her braſſe-ſounding buildings, and 〈◊〉 her ſelfe of her ſecrets in the preſence of yong 〈◊〉 , among whoſe Catalogue the had not forgot to diſcouer the incomparable beauty of the Arcadian Shepheardeſſe, wherof the young Prince no ſooner had receiued an inkling, but hée 〈◊〉 vpon thornes till hée had ſatiſfied his deſire with her ſight. Therefore on a time ſitting with his Miſtris at ſupper, when for table-talke it was debated amongſt them, what Countrey 〈◊〉 the moſt accompliſhed Dames for all things? after ſtrangers and others had deliuered vp their opinions without partialitie, one among them all▪ who had béene in Arcadie, gaue vp his verdit thus fréely: Gentlewoman (quoth hee) hee it no diſgrace for the Moone to ſtoop to the Sunne, for the Stars to giue place when Titan appeares: then I hope neyther the Theſſalians will • ee moued, nor the Grecians agréeued, if I make Apoll • s Arcadie, beauties meridian: Neither will I proceed heerein as our Philoſophical Po • ts are wont, that muſter euery mouer in the Zodiacks, euery •• xed Starre in the Firmament, euery elementall word of art in an Almanacke, to proue that Countrey for beautie moſt canonicall where their Miſtris abideth: when as (God w • t) had they but learned of Apelles, N • Sutor 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉 , they would not haue aſpired aboue their birth, or talked beyond their ſowterly bringing vp. Our Arcadian Nymphs are faire and beautifull, thoug • not begotten of the Suns bright rayes, whoſe eyes vaunt loues armory to the view, whoſe angelical faces are to the • bſ •••• earth inſtéed of •• rmament: view but this counterfeit, (and therewithal he ſhewed the picture of Samela) and ſée if it be not of 〈◊〉 to draw the Sun from his Sphere, or the Moone from her Circle, to gaze as the one did on the beautie of Daphne, or al night contemplate as the other on the forme of Endymion. Pleuſidippus, who all this while heard his Tale with attentiue patience, no ſooner beheld the radiant glorie of this reſplendant face, but as a man already inſtalled in eternitie, hee exclaimed thus abruptly: O Arcady, Arcady, • or • houſes of nymphs, & nurſery of beutie! At which words Olympia ſtarting vp ſodainly, as if ſhe a ſecond Iuno, had taken her Ioue in bed with Alcmens; and ouercaſting the Chamber with a frowne that was able to mantle the World with an eternall night, ſhe made paſſage to her choler in theſe termes of cōtempt: Beardleſſe vpſtart of I know not whence, haue the fauors of my bountie (not thy deſert) entred thee ſo déeply in ouer-wéening preſumption, that thou ſhouldeſt be the formoſt in derogation of o •• dignity & blaſpheming of my beauty? I tell thée miſcreant, I ſcorne thy clowniſh Arcadie with his inferior compariſons, as one that prizeth her perfection aboue any created conſtitution. Pleuſidippus, vpon this ſpéech ſtood plunged in a great perplexitie, whether he ſhould excuſe himſelfe mildely, or take her vp roundly: but the latter béeing more leuell to his humour then the former, hée began thus to rowze vp his furie: Diſdainfull dame, that vpbraideſt mée with my birth as it were baſe, and my youth as it were boyiſh: know that though my Parents and Progeny are enuied by obſcuritie, yet the ſparkes of renowne that make my Eagle-minded thoughts to mount the heauenly fire impriſoned in the pannicles of my creſt, inciting me to more déeds of honour, then ſtout Perſeus effected with his ſauch • n in the fields of Heſperia, aſcertaines my ſoule I was the Son of n • coward, but a gentleman: but 〈…〉 of parētage, is ſuch an • yeſore to thy enuy, hold, take thy ſauors (and there with he threw her glo • e) and immortalize whom thou wilt with thy toyes, for I will to Arcadie in ſpite of thée, and thy affinitie, there either to 〈◊〉 out miſchance, or a new Miſtris.

With this, in a great • age he roſe from the hoord, & would haue mounted himſelfe to •• part in that moode, had not the Lords & gentlemen there preſent diſſwaded him frō ſuch an vnaduiſed enterpriſe. Neither was this vnkindneſſe kept ſo ſecret, but it came to the Kings eare as hee was new riſen from dinner, who for the loue he • ar • to Pleuſidippus, whom he had honored with Knighthood not long before, and for the toward hopes he ſaw in him, took paines to go to the chāber where they were, & finding his daughter in ſtrange manner perplexed with the thoughts of Pleuſidippus departure, her eyes red, and her chéeks all to be blubberd with her iealous teares, he took her vp in this māner. Daughter, I thought I had choſe ſuch a one to be the obiect of your eye, as ye might haue euery way loued and honored as the Lord of your life, and not haue controlled as the ſlaue of your luſt. Did I therfore grace him with my countenance, ye you ſhould diſtaine him with your taunts? Péeuiſh gyrle, I aduiſe thée on my diſpleaſure, eyther reconcile thy ſelfe betimes, and reforme thy vnreuerent termes, or I will diſclaime the loue of a Father, and deale by thée no more as a daughter. Olympia, who already had ſufficiently bitten on ye bridle, took theſe words more vnkindly then all her former bitterneſſe, which ſhee diſgeſted but ſowrely: neuertheleſſe making neceſſitie the preſent times beſt policie, ſhee humbled her ſelfe as ſhee might with modeſtie, and deſired the beſt interpretation of what was paſt. Pleuſidippu • , whoſe courteous inclination could not withſtand this ſubmiſſion, in ſigne of reconcilement, gaue her a ſtoccado des labies: yet was he not ſo reconciled, but he kept on his purpoſe of going to Arcadie, wherat Olympia (though ſhe grudged inwardly, yet béeing loth to offend) held her peace, and determined to beſtow vpon him a remembrance, wherby he might be brought to thinke on her in his abſence, which was the deuice of a bleeding heart flothig in the Sea wa • es, curiouſly ſtamped in Gold, with this • otto about it: portum aut mortem, alluding as it ſéemed, to the deuice in his ſhield, wherein (becauſe it was taken vp by Eurilochus on the ſhore) was cunningly drawn in a field argent, the ſea waues with Venus ſitting on the top, in token that his affection was alreadie fettred. Héere hold this (ſaid ſhe) my ſwéet Pleuſidippus, and hang it about thy necke, that when thou art in Arcadie, it may be euer in thy eye, ſo ſhal theſe drops of ruth that paint out a painful truth withdraw thy fancie frō attracting ſtrange beautie: which ſaid, the teares guſht from her eyes, and Agenors likewiſe, who gaue him nothing ſo much in charge, as to make haſte of his retaine. Pleuſ •• ippus, though hee could haue bin content to haue done the like for companie, yet hee had ſuch a mind on his iourney, that he brake off ſuch ceremonies, and haſted a ſhipbord, & in a Barke bound for Arcadie, hauing the wind fauorable, made a ſhort cut: ſo as in a day and nights ſailing, he arriued on the ſhore ioyning on the Promontorie where he, his mother, and Lamedon were firſt wracked.

Leaue we him wandring with ſome few of his traine that came with him along the ſea-ſide, to ſéeke out ſome Towne or village where to refreſh themſelues, and let vs a while to the Court of Democles, where our Hiſtorie began▪ who hauing committed his daughter with her tender babe, her huſband Maximinus and Lamedon his vncle, without eare or Mariner, to the fury of the mercileſſe wanes, determined to leaue ye ſucceſſion of his kingdome to vncertaine chance: for his Q. with Sepheſtiacs loſſe (whom ſhée déemed to bee dead) tooke ſuch thought, that within ſhort time after ſhe died Democles as c • releſſe of all weathers, ſpent his time Epicure-like in all kind of pleaſures, that either art or expence might affoord, ſo as for his diſſolute life hee ſeemed another Heliogabalus, deriuing his ſecuritie from that grounded tranquilitie, which made it prouerbiall to the world, No heauen but Arcadia. Hauing ſpent many yéeres in this varietie of vanitie, Fame determining to apply her ſelfe to his fancie, ſ • nnded in his eare the ſingular beautie of his daughter Samela: he although hée were an old Colt, yet had not caſt all his wanton téeth, which made him vnder the brute of being ſicke of a grie • ous Apoplexie, ſteale from his Court ſecretly in the diſguiſe of a ſhepheard, to come and ſéeke out Samela, who not a little proud of her new flocke, liued more contented then if ſhée had béene Quéene of Arcadie, and Melicertus ioying not a little that ſhee was parted from Menaphon, vſed euery day to viſite her without dread, and court her in ſuch Shepheards termes as hee had, which how they pleaſed her, I leaue to you to imagine, when as not long after ſhe vowed marriage to him ſolemnely in preſence of all the Shepheards, but not to be ſolemnized till the prophecie was fulfilled, mentioned in the beginning of this Hiſtorie. Although this penance excéeded the limits of his patience, yet hoping that the Oracle was not vttered in vaine, and might as well (albeit he knew not which way) be accompliſhed in him as in any other, was contented to make a vertue of neceſſitie, and await the vtmoſt of his deſtinie. But Pleuſidipp • s, who by this time had perfected his policies, exchanging his garments with one of the Heardgroomes of Menaphon, tracing ouer the plaines in the habite of a ſhepheard, chanced to meet with Democles as hee was new come into thoſe quarters, whom miſtaking for an old ſhepheard he began many impertinent queſtions belonging to the Sheepcotes; at laſt hee aſked him if hee knew Samelaes ſhéepfold: who anſwering doubtfully to all alike, made him halfe angry: and had not Samela paſſed by at that inſtant, to fill her bottle at a ſpring néere the foot of the Promontory, he ſhould like enough haue had firſt handſell of our new Shepheards ſhéephooke. But the wonder of her beautie ſo wrought with his wounded fancie, that he thought report a partial ſpreader of her prayſes, and ſame too vaſe to talke of ſuch formes. Samela eſpying this faire ſhepheard ſo farre ouergone in his gazing, ſtept to him, and aſked him if he knew her that he ſo ouerlookt her. Pardon me, faire ſhepheardeſſe (ſaid Pleuſidippus,) if it be a fault, for I cannot choſe being Eagle-ſighted, but gaze on the Sunne the firſt time I ſée it. And truly I cannot chuſe but compare you to one of Aeſops Apes, that finding a Glow-worme in the night, tooke it for a fire: and y •• ſéeing a face full of • eformitie • , miſtake it for the Sun. Indéed it may vs mine eye • made oppoſite to ſuch an obiect may faile in their office, hauing their lights rebated by ſuch brightneſſe. Nay, not vnlike, quoth Samela, for elſe out of doubt you would ſée your way better. Why, quoth Pleuſidippus, I cannot go • not of the way 〈…〉 I méete ſuch gliſtering Goddeſſes in my way▪ How now, Sir Paris, are you out of your Arithmoticke? I thinke you haue loſt your wits with your eyes, that miſtake Arcadie for Ido, and a Shepheardeſſe for a Goddeſſe. How euer it pleaſe you (quoth Pleuſidippus) to •• rogate from my pr • waſſe by the title of Paris, know that I am not ſo farre out of my Arithmeticke, but that by miſtiplication I can make time of one, in an houres warning, or bee as good as a cipher to fill vp a place at the worſt hand: for my wit ſufficeth, be it neuer ſo ſimple, to proue both re and voce, that there can be no vacuum in rerum natura: and mine eyes, or elſe they dec • iue me, will enter ſo farre in art, as, niger est 〈◊〉 albo, and teach me how to diſcerne twixt blacke and white.

Much other circumſtance of prattle paſſed betwéene them, which the Arcadian records doe not ſhew, nor I remember: ſufficeth, he pleaded loue, and was rep • lſt: which droue him into ſuch a choler, that meeting him ſuppoſed Shepheard, who lying vnder a buſh had al this while euer-heard them, hee entred into ſuch termes of indignation, as Ioue ſhaking his earth-quaking hayre, when h • ſate in conſultation of Licaon. Wherefore Democl • s perceiuing Pleuſidippus repulſt, who was euery way graced with the ornaments of nature, beganne to caſt ouer his badde penny-worths, in whoſe face age had ſurrowed her wrinckles, except he • ſhould lay his Crowne downe at her féete, and tell her hee was King of Arcadia; which in Common-wealth • reſpects, ſéeming not commodi • ns, hee thought to turns a new leafe, and make thisyoung Shepheard the meanes to perfect his purpoſe. He had not farre from that place a ſtrong Caſtle, which was inhabited as then by none but Tilſmen and Heardgr • mes, thither did be perſwade Pleuſidippus to carry her perforce, and •• ert that by conſtraint, that he could not atchiue by entreaty; who liſtning not a little to this counſaile, that was neuer plotted for his aduantage, preſently put in practice what hee of late ga • e in precepts, and waiting till the euening that Samela ſhould fold her ſhéepe; hauing giuen hi • men the watch-word, ma • ger all the ſhepheardes adioyning, he mounted her behind him; and being by Democles directed to the Caſtle, hee made ſuch ha • orke among the ſtubboorne. Heardſmen, that will they, nill they, he was Lord of the Caſtle. Yet might not this preuaile with Samela, who conſtant to her olde ſhepheard, would not entertaine any new loue: which made Plouſidippus thi •• lle all his Haruest loſt in the reaping, and bl • miſh all his delights with a mournfull drooping.

But Democles, that lookt for a mountaine of Gold in a Mole-hill, finding her alone, beganne to diſcourſe his loue in more ample mann • r then euer Pleuſidippus, telling her how hee was a King, what his reuenewes were, what power hee had to aduance her, with many other proude vaunts of his wealth, and prodigall termes of his treaſure. Samela hearing the name of a King, and perceiuing him to be her Father, ſtood amazed like Meduſae. Metamorphoſis, and bluſhing 〈◊〉 with intermingled ſighes, beganne to thinke how iniurious Fortune was to her ſhewne in ſuch an inceſtuous Father: but hee, hote-ſpurred in his purpoſe, gaue her no time to deliberate or conſider of the matter, but required either a quick conſent, or a preſent deniall. She told him, that the Shepheard Mdicertu • was alreadie intitled in the ine • reſt of her beautie, wherefore it was in vaine what hee or any 〈◊〉 th •• could plead in the way of perſwaſion.

•• ee thereupon entring into a large field of the baſeneſſe of ſhepheards, and royalties of Kings, with many other aſſembled ſembled arguments of delight, that would haue fetche Venus from her Sphere to diſpo •• : but Samela, whoſe mouth could diſgeſt no other meate ſaue only her ſwéet Melicertus, aſhamed ſo long to hold • arley with her father about ſuch a matter, flung away to her withdrawing Chamber in a diſſembled rage; and there, after her wonted manner bewailed her miſfortune • .

Democles, plunge • thus in a Labyrinth of reſtleſſe paſſions, ſeeing Melicertus figure was ſo de • ply printed in the centre of her thoughts, as neyther the reſolution of his fancie, his Metamorphoſis from a King to a Trauailer, Crownes, Kingdome, preferments, (batteries that ſoone ouer throw the fortreſſe of womens fantaſſes) when Democles, I ſay, ſaw that none of theſe could remoue Samela, hearing that the Arcadian Shepheards were in an vprore for the loſſe of their beautifull, Shepheardeſſe, his hote loue changing to a bird of coy diſdaine, hee intended by ſome reuenge, eyther to obtaine his loue, or ſatiſfie his hate: whereupon throughly reſolued, hee ſtole away ſecretly in his ſhepheards apparell, and got him downe to the plaines, where he found all the Swaines in a mutinie about the recouery of their beautifull Paragon. Democles ſtepping amongſt the rowte, demaunded the cauſe of their controuerſie. Mary ſir, quoth Doron, bluntly, the flower of all our garland is gone. How meane you that ſir, quoth hee? We had, anſwered Doron, an Ewe amongſt our Rams, whoſe ſléece was as white as the hayres that grow on Father Boreas chinne, or as the dangling dewlap of the ſiluer Bull, her front curled like to the Erimanthyan Boare, and ſpangled like to the worſted ſtockings of Saturne, her face like Mars treading vpon the milke-white cloudes: beléeue me, Shepheard, her eyes like the fierie torches tilting againſt the Moone: This Paragon, this none, ſuch, this Ewe, this Miſtris of our flockes, was by a wily Fox ſtolne from our folds, for which theſe ſhepheards aſſemble themſelues to recouer ſo wealthy a prize. What is hee, quoth Menaphon, that Doron is in ſuch debate with? Fellow, canſt thou tell vs any newes of the faire Shepherdeſſe, that the Knight of Theſſalie hath carried away from her fellow Nymphes. Democles thinking to take apportunitie by the forehead, & ſéeing time had feathered his bolt, willing to aſſay as he might to hit the marke, began thus. Shepheards, you ſée my profeſſion is your trade, and although my wandring fortunes bee not like your home-borne fauours, yet were I in the Groues of Theſſ • lian Tempe, as I am in the plaines of Arcadie, the Swaines would giue me as many due honors, as they preſent you héere with ſubmiſſe reuerence. Beauty that drew Apollo from heauen to play the Shepheard, that fetcht Ioue from heauen to beare the ſhape of a Bull for Agenors daughter, the excellence of ſuch a metaphyſicall vertue, I mean (ſhepheards) the fame of your faire Samela, houering in the eares of euery man as a miracle of nature, brought mee from Theſſaly to féed mine eyes with Arcadies wonder: ſtepping alongſt the ſhore to come to ſome ſheepecote, where my wearie limmes might haue reſt. Loue that for my labors thought to lead me to fancies pauillion, was my conduct to a Caſtle, where a Theſſalian Knight lyes in hold; the Portcullis was let downe, the bridge drawne, the court of gard kept: thither I went, & for my tongue I was knowne to be a Theſſalian, I was entertained and lodged: the Knight whoſe yeeres are yong, and valure matchleſſe, holding in his armes a Lady more beautifull then Loues Quéene, all blubbred with teares, aſked me many queſtions, which as I might I replyed vnto: but while he talkt, mine eye ſurfeiting with ſuch excellence, was detained vpon the glorious ſhew of ſuch a wonderfull obiect: I demaunded what ſhe was, of the ſtanders by, and they ſaid ſhe was the faire Shepheardeſſe, whom the Knight had taken from the Swains of Arcadie; and would carry with ye firſt wind that ſerued into Theſſalie: this (ſhepheards) I know, and grieue that thus your loues ſhould be ouermatcht with Fortune, and your affections puld backe vp contrarietie or deſtinie. Melicertus hearing this, the fire ſparkling out of his eyes, began thus, I tell thée, ſhepheard, if Fates with their forepointing penſils did pen downe, or fortune with the deepe varietie reſolue, or loue with his greateſt power determine to depriue Arcadia of the beautifull Samela, wee would with our bloud ſigne downe ſuch ſpels on the plaines; that either our gods ſhould ſummon her to Elizium, or ſhe reſt with vs quiet & fortunate: thou ſéeſt the ſhepheards are vp in Arimes to reuenge, only it reſts who ſhal haue the honor and principalitie of the field. What néeds that queſtion, quoth Menaphon, am not I the Kings Shepheard, and chiefe of all the bordering Swaines of Arcadia? I grant, quoth Melicertus, but am not I a Gentleman, though tyred in a Shepheards ſkincote, ſuperior to thée in birth, though equall now in profeſſion? Wel, from words they had falne to blowes, had not the ſhepheards parted them, and for the auoiding of further troubles, it was agréed that they ſhould in two Eglog • es make deſcription of their loue: and Democles, for he was a ſtranger, to fit Cenſor, and who beſt could decipher his Miſtris perfection, ſhould be made generall of the reſt. Menaphon and Melicereus condeſtended to this motion, and Democles ſitting as a Iudge, the reſt of the ſhepheards ſtanding as witneſſes of this combate, Menaphon began thus.

Menaphons Eglogue. Too weake the wit, too ſlender is the braine, That meanes to marke the power and worth of loue: Not one that liues (excep the hap to proue) Can tell the ſweet, or tell the ſecret paine. Yet I that haue beene prentice to the griefe, Like to the cunning Sea-man, from afarre By geſſe will take the beautie of that ſtarre, Whoſe influence muſt yeeld me chiefe reliefe. You Cenſors of the glory of my deare, With reuerence, and lowly bent of knee: Attend and marke what her perfections be, For in my words my fancies ſhall appeare. Her lockes are plighted like the • leece of wooll, That Iaſon with his Grecian mates atchiu'de: As pure as gold, yet not from gold deriu'd, As full of ſweets, as ſweet of ſweets is full: Her browes are prettie tables of conceit, Where loue his records of delight doth qu • te: On them her dallying lockes doe daily • lore, As loue full of • doth feede vpon the b • ite: Her eyes, faire eyes, liketh the pureſt lights That animate the Sunne, or •• eere the daie: In whom the ſhining Sun-beames brightly plaie, Whiles fancie doth on them diuine delights. Her cheeke • like ripened Lillies ſteept in wine, Or faire Pomegranate kernels waſht in milke: Or ſnow-white threds, in nets of crimſon ſilke, Or gorgeous cloudes vpon the Sunnes decline. Her lips like Roſes ouerw • ſht with dew, Or like the purple of Nar • iſſus flower: No froſt their faire, no winde doth waſte their power, But by her breath, her beauties doe renew. Her chriſtall chin like to the pureſt mold, Enchac'd with daintieſt Daiſies ſoft and white: Where fancies faire Pauilion once is pight, Whereas imbrac'd his beauties he doth hold. Her necke like to an I • orie ſhining Towre, Where through with azure veines ſweet Nectar runne • : Or like the downe of Swannes where S • neſſ • wo • nes, Or like delight that doth it ſelfe deuoure. Her paps are like faire Apples in the prime, As round as orient pearles, as ſoft as downe: They neuer veile their faire through winters frowne, But from their ſweets loue ſuckt his Summer time. Her bodies beauties beſt eſteemed bowre, Delicious comely, daintie, without ſtaine: The thought whereof (not toucht) hath wrought my paine, Whoſe faire, all faire and beauties doth deuoure. Her maiden wount, the dwelling houſe of pleaſure, Not like, for why no like ſurpaſſeth wonder: O bleſt is he may bring ſuch beauties vnder, Or ſearch by ſute the ſecrets of that treaſure. Deuour'd in though, how wanders my deuio • ? What reſts behind I muſt diuine vpon. Who talkes the beſt, can ſay but • airer none: Few words well coucht doe moſt content the wiſe. All you that heare, let not my filly ſtile Condemne my zeale: for what my tongue ſhould ſay, Serues to inforce my thoughts to ſeeke the way, Whereby my woes and cares I doe beguile. Seld ſpeaketh Loue, but ſighes his ſecret paines, Teares are his Truce-men, words doe make him tremble • How ſweet is loue to them that can diſſemble, In thoughts and lookes, till they haue reapt the gaines? A lonely I am plaine, and what I ſay I thinke, yet what I thinke tongue cannot tell: Sweet Cenſors, take my ſilly worſt for well: My faith is firme, though homely be my lay.

After the hapleſſe Menaphon had in this homely diſcourſe ſhadowed his heauenly • rlight, the ſhepheard Melicertus, after ſome pauſe, began in this ſort.

Melicertus Eglogue. What need compare, where ſweet exceeds compare? Who drawes his thoughts of loue from fenceleſſe things, Their pompe and greateſt glorie doth impaire, And mount Loues heauen with ouer-leaden wings. Stones, hearbes, and flowers, the fooliſh ſpoiles of earth, Flouds, metals, colours, dalliance of the eye: Theſe ſhew, conceit is ſtain'd with too much dearth: Such abſtract fond compares make cunning dye. But he that hath the feeling taſte of loue, Deriues his eſſence from no earthly ioy: A weake conceit his power cannot approue, For earthly thoughts are ſubiect to annoy. Be whiſt, be ſtill, be ſilent Cenſors now, My fellow-ſwaine▪ h • as told a prettie Tale, Which moderne Poets may perhap • allow, Yet I condemne the termes, for they are ſtale. Apollo, when my Miſtris firſt was borne, Cut off his lockes, and left them on her head, And ſaid, I plan • theſe wires in Natures ſcorne, Whoſe beauty ſhall appeare when Time is dead. From forth the Chriſtall Heauen, when ſhe was made, The puritie thereof did • aint her brow: On which the gliſt'ring Sunne that ſought the ſhade, Gan ſet, and there his glories, doth auow. Thoſe eyes, faire eyes, too faire to be deſcribde, Were thoſe that earſt the Chaos did reforme: To whom the heauens their beauties haue aſcribde, That faſhion life in man, in beaſt, in worme. When firſt her faire delicious cheekes were wrought, Aurora brought her bluſh, the Moone her white: Both ſo combinde as paſſed natures thought, Compilde thoſe prettie Orbes of ſweet delight. When Loue and Nature once were proude with play, From both their lips her lips the corrall drew: On them doth fancie ſleepe, and euerie day Doth ſwallow-ioy, ſuch ſweet delights to view. Whilome, while Venus ſonne did ſeeke a bowre, To ſport with Pſiches, his deſired deare, He choſe her chin, and from that happy ſtovvre, He neuer ſtints in glorie to appeare. Deſires and ioyes that long had ſerued Loue, Behold a hold, whence prettie eyes might woo them; Loue made her necke, and for their boſt behoue Hath ſhut them there, whence no man can vndoe them. Once Venus dreamt vpon two pretie things, Her thoughts they were affections chiefeſt neſts: She ſuckt and ſighde, and bathde her in the ſprings, And when ſhe wakte, they were my Miſtris breſts. Once Cupid ſought a hold to couch his kiſſes, And found the bodie of my beſt belou'd, Wherein he cloſde the beautie of his bliſſes, And from that bowre can neuer be remou'd. The Graces earſt, when Alcedelian ſprings▪ Were waxen drie, perhaps did find her fountaine Within the bale of bliſſe, where Cupids wings Doe ſhield the Nectar fleeting from the mountaine. No more, fond man: things infinite, I ſee, Brooke no dimenſion: hell a fooliſh ſpeech, For endleſſe things may neuer talked be, Then let me liue to honour and beſeech. Sweet Natures pompe, if my deficient phraſe Hath ſtain'd thy glories by too little skill, Yeeld pardon, though mine eye that long did gaze, Hath left no better patterne to my quill. I will no more, no more will I detaine Your liſtning eares with dalliance of my tongue: I ſpeake my ioyes, but yet conceale my paine, My paine too olde, although my yeeres be young.

As ſoone as Melicertus had ended this Eglogse, they expected the doome of Democles, who hearing the ſwéete deſcription, wherein Melicertus deſcribed his Miſtris, wondered that ſuch rare conceits could bee harboured vnder a Shepheards gray clothing: at laſt hee made this anſwere. Arcadian Swaines, whoſe wealth is content, whoſe labours •• e tempered with ſweete loues, whoſe mindes aſpire not, whoſe thoughts brooke no enuie, only as riuals in affection, you are friendly emulato •• in honeſt fan • ie: ſith fortune (as enemie to your quiet) hath reſt you of your faire Shepheardeſſe (the worlds wonder, & Arcadies miracle) and one of you as champion muſt lead the reſt to reuenge, both deſtrous to ſhew your valor as your forwardneſſe in affection, & yet (as I ſaid) one to be whole chieftaine of the traine, I awarde to Melicertus that honour (as to him that hath moſt curiouſly portraied out his Miſtris excellence) to heare the ſole rule and ſupremacie. At this, Menaphon grudged, and Melicertus was in an extaſſe of ioy, ſo that gathering all his • orces together of ſtout head-ſtrong clownes amounting to the number of ſome aco. hee apparrelled him ſelfe in armor, colour ſabled, as mourning for his Miſtris: in his ſhield hee had figured the waues of the ſea, Venus ſitting on them in the height of all her pride. Thus marched Melicertus forward with old Domocle • , the ſuppoſed Shepheard, till they came to the Caſtle where Pleuſidippus and his faire Samela were reſident. As ſoone as they came there, Melicertus begirt the Caſtle with ſuch a ſiege, as ſo many ſhéepiſh Caualiers could furniſh: which when hee had done, ſummoned them in the Caſtle to parley: the young Knight ſlept vpon the wals, and ſéeing ſuch a crue of baſe companions, with iackets and ruſtie bils on their barkes, fell into a great laughter, and began to taunt them thus: Why, what ſtrange Metamorphoſis is this? Are the plaines of Arcadie, whilome filled with labourers, now ouer-laide with Launces? Are ſhéepe tranſformed into men, ſwaines into ſouldiers, and a wandring companie of poore Shepheards, into a worthie troupe of reſolute Champions: No doubt, either Pan meanes to play the God of warre, or elſe theſe be but ſuch men as raſe of the téeth of Cadmus. Now, I ſée the beginning of your warres, and the pretended end of your ſtratagems: the ſhepheards hauing a madding humor like the Greekes to ſéeke for the recouerie of Helena, ſo you for the regaining of your faire Samela. Héere ſhée is a ſhepheardeſſe, & I a Priam to defend her with reſiſtance of a ten yéeres ſt • ge • yet, for I were loth to haue any caſtle ſacht like Troy, I pray you tal • me, which is Agamemnon? Melicertus hearing the youth ſpeaking thus proudly, hauing the ſparks of honor freſh vnder the cinders of pouertie, incited with loue and valour, (two things to animate the moſt daſtard Therſites to enter combat againſt Hercules) anſwered thus: Vnknowne yongſter of Theſſalie, if the feare of thy hardy deeds, were like the diapaſ • n of thy threats, wee would thinke the Caſtle of longer ſiege, then either our ages would permit, or our valour aduenture: but where the ſhelfe is moſt ſhallow, there the water breakes moſt high: emptie veſſels haue the higheſt ſounds, hollow rockes the • owdeſt ecchoes, & prattling Glorioſors the ſmalleſt performance of courage: for proofe whereaſ, ſwing thou haſt made a rape of faire Samela, one of her vowed shepherds is come for the ſafetile of her word • to ſelfe, to chall • nge thée to ſingle combat: if thou ouercome mée, thou ſhalt fréely paſſe with the ſhepherdeſſe to Theſſalie: if I vanquiſh thée, thou ſhalt feele the burden of thy raſhneſſe, and Samela the ſweetneſſe of her libertie. Pleuſidippus maruelled at the reſolution of the ſhepheard: but when Domocles heard how if he wonne, ſhe ſhould be tranſported into Theſſalie, a world of ſorrows tumbled in his diſcontented braine, that hee hammered in his head by many meanes to ſtay the faire Samela: for when Pleuſidippus in a great choler was readie to throw downe his gantlet, and to accept of ſhe comda •• Democles ſtept vp, and ſpake thus: Worthy Mirrors of reſolued magnanimity, whoſe thoughts are aboue your fortunes, and whoſe valour more than your reuenewes, know that Bitches that puppie in haſte, bring forth blind Whelpes, that there is no herbe ſooner ſprung vp than the Spattarmia, nor ſooner fadeth: the fruite too ſoone ripe are quickly rotten, that déeds done in haſte are repented at leiſure. Then braue m • n in ſo weightie a cauſe, and for the conqueſt of ſo excellent a Paragon, let not one minute begin and end the quarrell, but like Fabius of Rome vſe delay in ſuch dangerous exploits, when honor ſits on wreaths of Laurell to giue y• Vie • or his Garland: defer it ſome thrée daies, & then in ſolemne manner end the combat. To this good motion, not only Pleuſidippus, and Melicertus agreed, but all y• company were conſenting, and vpon pledges of truce giuen, they reſted. But Democle • ſéeing in couert hee could not conquer, and that in deſpairing loues ſecrecie was no ſalue, he diſpatcht letters to the Nobilitie of his Court, with ſtrait charge that they ſhould bée in that place within three daies with 10000. ſtrong. This newes came no ſooner to the Generall of his forces, but leuying ſo many approued Souldiers, hee marched ſecretly by night to the place Democles in his Letters had preſcribed, and there ioyfully entertained by the King, they were placed in ambaſh, readie when the ſignall ſhould hee giuen to iſſue out of the place, & performe their Soueraignes command. Well, the third day being come, no ſooner did Titan ariſe from the watery couch of his Lemman, but theſe two Champions were readie in the liſts, accompanied with the rout of all the Arcadian ſhepheards, and old Democles whom they had appointed for one of the Iudges. Pleuſidippus ſéeing Melicercus aduance on his ſhield the waues of the Sea, with a Venus ſitting vpon them, maruelled what the ſhepheard ſhould be that gaue this Armes, and Melicercus was as much amazed to ſée & ſtrange Theſſalian Knight vaunt his Armes without difference: yet being ſo fraught with direful reuenge, as they ſcorned to ſalute each other ſo much as with threats, they fell toughly to blowes. Samela ſtanding on top of a Turret, and viewing the combat, the poore Lady gréeuing, that for her cauſe ſuch a ſtratageme ſhould ariſe in Arcadie, her countenance full of ſorrow, & flouds of teares falling from her eyes, ſhee began to breathe out her paſſion. Vnfortunate Samela, borne to miſhaps, & forepointed to ſiniſter fortunes, whoſe bloomes were ripened to miſchāce, and whoſe fruit is like to wither with deſpaire, in thy youth ſate diſcontent pruning her ſelfe in thy forehead, now in thy age ſorrow hides her ſelfe amongſt the wrinckles of thy face; thus art thou infortunate in the prime, and croſſed with contrary accidents in thy autumne, as hapleſſe as Helens, to haue the burden of warres laid on the wings of thy beauty. And who muſt be the Champion? whoſe ſword muſt pierce the Helmet of thine enemie? Whoſe bloud muſt purchace the freedome of Samela, but Melicercus? if he conquer, then Samela triumphs, as if ſhee had beene chiefe Victor in the Olympiades: if hee loſe euery droppe falling from his wounds into the cētre of his thoughts, as his death to him, ſo ſhall it be to me, the end of my loues, my life, and my liberty. As ſtil ſhe was about to goe forward in her paſſion, the trumpet ſounded, and they fell to fi • ht in ſuch furious ſort, as the Arcadians and D • mocles himſelfe wondred to ſée the courage of the Shepheard, that he tyed the Knight to ſuch a • ore taſke. Pleuſidippus likewiſe féeling an extraordinary kind of force, & ſéeing with what courage the Knight of the Shepheards fought, began to coniecture diuerſly of the warre, and to feare the euent of the combat. On the contrary part, Melicertus halfe wearied with the heauie blowes of Pleuſidippus, ſtood in a maze how ſo yong a wa • ſhould be ſo expert in his weapon.

Thus debating diuerſly in their ſeuerall thoughts, at length being both weary, they ſtept backe, and leaning on their ſwords, tooke breath, gazing each on other. At laſt, Pleuſiddippus burſt into theſe ſpéeches. Shepheard in life, though now a Gentleman in armor, if thy degree be better, I glory, I am not diſgraced with the combate: tell me, how •• reſt thou ſo farre wrong 〈◊〉 , as to beare mine armes on thy ſhield? Princocks (quoth Melicercus) thou lyeſt, they be mine owne, and thou contrary to the law of Armes beareſt my Creſt without difference, in which quarrell, ſéeing it concerneth my honour, I will reuenge it as farre as my loues: and with that he gaue ſuch a charging blow at Pleuſidippus helme, that he had almoſt ouer-turned him: Pleuſidippus left not the blow vnrequited, but doubled his force: inſomuch that the hazard of the battell was doubtfull, and both of them were • aine to take breath againe. Democles ſéeing his time, that both of them were ſo weakened, gaue the watch-word, and the ambuſh lept out, ſlaughtered many of the Shepheards, put the reſt to flight, tooke the two Champions priſoners, and ſacking the Caſtle, carryed them and the faire Samela to his Court: letting the Shepheardeſſe haue her liberty, but putting Melicertus and Pleuſidippus into a déep and darke dungeon.

Where leauing theſe paſſionate Louers in this Cataſtrophe, againe to Doron, the homely blunt Shepheard: who hauing béene long enamoured of Carmela, much good wooing paſt betwixt them, and yet little ſpéeding: at laſt, both of them met hard by the Promontory of Arcadie, ſhee leading forth her ſheepe, and he going to ſée his new yeaned Lambes. As ſoone as they met, breaking a few quarter blowes with ſuch country glances as they could, they géered one at another louingly. At laſt, Doron manfully began thus.

Carmela, by my troth good morrow, it is as daintie to ſée you abroad, as to eate a meſſe of ſwéet milke in Iuly: you are proued ſuch a houſe-doue of late, or rather ſo good a huſwiſe, that no man may ſée you vnder a couple of Capons: the Church-yard may ſtand long enough ere you will come to looke on it, and the Piper may beg for euery penny he gets out of your purſe: but it is no matter, you are in loue with ſome ſtout Ruffler, and yet poore folkes, ſuch as I am, muſt be content with pottage: and with that, turning his backe, he ſmiled in his ſléeue, to ſée how kindly he had giuen her the • ob: which Carmela ſéeing, ſhe thought to be euen with him thus.

Indéed, Doron, you ſay will, it is long ſince we met, and our houſe is a grange houſe with you: but we haue tied vp the great dog, and when you come, you ſhall haue green ruſhes, you are ſuch a ſtranger: but it is no matter, ſoone hote, ſoone cold, he that mingles himſelfe with draffe, the hogges will eate him: and ſhée that layes her loue on an vnkind man, ſhall find ſorrow enough to eate her ſops withall. And with that, Carmela was ſo ful ſtomackt that ſhe wept.

Doron, to ſhew himſelfe a naturall yong man, gaue her a few kind kiſſes to comfort her, and ſware, that ſhee was the woman he loued beſt in the World, and for proofe (quoth he) thou ſhalt heare what I will prayſe: and you (quoth ſhe) what I will performe. And ſo taking hand in hand, they kindly ſate them downe, and began to diſcourſe their loues, in theſe Eglogues.

Thus ended this merrie Eglogue betwixt Doron and Carmela: which (Gentlemen) if it be • uſt with prettie Similies, and farre fetcht Metaphors, thinke the poore country Louers knew no further compariſons the • oure within compaſſe of their country Logicke. Well, twas a good world, when ſuch Simplicitie was vſed, ſay • s the old Women of our time, when a ring of a ruſh would tie as much loue together as a gimmon of gold: but gentlemen, •• ce we haue talkt of loue ſo long, you ſhall giu • 〈◊〉 leaue 〈◊〉 ſhew my opinion of that fooliſh ſanc •• e, th •• .

Sonetto. What thing is loue? It is a power diuine, That reignes vs, or elſe a wreakfull law, That doomes our mindes to beauty to incline. It is a ſtarre, whoſe influence doth draw Our hearts to loude 〈◊〉 being of his might, Till he be maſter of our hearts and fight. Loue is a diſcord, and a ſtrange di ••• Betwixt our ſenſe and reaſon, 〈◊〉 whoſe power As mad with reaſon we admit that force, Which wit or labour 〈◊〉 may deuoure. It is a will that brooketh no conſent: It would refuſe, yet 〈◊〉 may repent. Loue's a deſire, which for to wallen 〈◊〉 , Doth loſe an age of yeeres, and ſo doth paſſe As doth the ſhadow • e • ered from his prime, Seeming as though it were, yee neuer 〈◊〉 : Leauing behinde nought but repent • nt thoughts Of dayes ill ſpent, for that which profit • ough • s. It's now a peace, and then a ſudden warre, A hope conſumde before it is conceiu'd, At hand it feares, and menac ••• 〈◊〉 , And he that games, is moſt of all deceiu'd. It is a ſecret hidden and not knowne, Which one may better feele then 〈◊〉 vpon.

Thus Gentlemen haue you heard my verdit in this So ••• now will I returne to 〈◊〉 Carmela, who not ſeeing her mother come, ſell aga •• to a 〈…〉 , and thus it was.

After they had thus 〈…〉 their Eglogues, they plighted faith and truth, and Carmela, very briſ • ly 〈◊〉 her mouth with a 〈…〉 it▪ with a kiſſe, which Doron taketh 〈…〉 a little paying loth to depart, they 〈◊〉 went a 〈◊〉 their 〈…〉 Leauing them therefore 〈◊〉 their 〈◊〉 againe to Democles, who ſéeing no 〈…〉 to perſwade; Samela to loue, neither the hope of the 〈…〉 crowne, no • the title of a 〈◊〉 laſtly 〈…〉 threats, but all in vaine: for 〈…〉 by nature, 〈◊〉 that he was her father, and 〈◊〉 by loue, in that 〈◊〉 Melicertus lay impriſoned onely for her 〈…〉 〈…〉 erauing pardon of Maxim • us and Sepheſtia: and to ſhew that the outward 〈◊〉 of his watery eyes had a 〈◊〉 thy with the 〈…〉 of his heart, hee impa • •• d the head of his young Nephew Pleufidippus with the Crowne and Diademe of Arcadie: for that his brother Lamedon had in all diſtreſſe not left his daughter Sepheſtia, he tooke the matter ſo kindly, that he reconciled himſelfe vnto him; and made him Duke in Arcadie. The ſucceſſe of this fore-rehearſes 〈…〉 g •• wing ſo Comicall, they all concluded after the 〈…〉 ſolemnizing of the Coronation (which was made famous with the excellent déeds of many worthy 〈◊〉 ,) to paſſe into Theſſa • e, to contract the marriage betwixt Pleuſidippus, and the daughter of the Theſſalian King. Which nowes ſpred through Arcadie as a wonder, that at laſt it came to Menaphons eares: who hearing the high parentage of his ſuppoſed Samela, ſéeing his paſſions were too aſpiring, & that with the Syrian Wolues he barked againſ the Moone, he left ſuch Lettice as were too fine for his lips, and courted his olde loue Peſana, to whom ſhortly after he was married. And leſt there ſhould her left any thing vnperfect in this paſtorall accident, Doron 〈◊〉 himſelfe vp, and iumped a marriage with his old friend Carmela.