Volume 2 — The Palace of Pleasure. (continued 4)

A notable Letter sent from the Romane Senate to the Emperour Traiane, where in is declared how sometimes the region of Spayne did furnish Rome wyth golde from their Mines, and now do adorne and garnish the same with Emperours to gouerne their Common wealth.

The sacred Romane Senate, to thee the great Cocceius Traiane new Emperour Augustus, health in thy gods and ours, graces euerlastyng wee render to the immortall Gods, for that thou art in health, which wee desyre and pray may be perpetual. We signified vnto thy maiesty the death of Nerua Cocceius, our soueraigne Lord, and thy predecessor, a man of sincere lyfe, a fryend of his Common Wealth, and a zealous louer of Iustice, wherein also we aduertised, that like as Rome did weepe for the cruell lyfe of Domitian, so mutch the more bitterly doth she bewayle the death of thine vncle Nerua, whose councel (although hee was very olde and diseased) which he gaue vs lyinge on his Bedde, we loued better, and imbraced with greater comforte, than all the enterpryses and deedes don by his predecessors, when they were in health and lusty: and besides the ordinary mourning vsed to bee done in Rome for Prynces, wee haue caused all recreation and pastime to cease, so wel in the common wealth as with euery of vs particularly. We haue shut vp the Temples and made the Senate vnderstand, how displeasantly we accept the death of good men. The good old gentleman Nerua dyed in hys house, and was buried in the fielde of Mars: he died in debte, and we haue payd hys debtes: he dyed callyng vppon the Gods, and we haue canonized him amongs theyr numbre, and that which is most to be noted, hee died commending vnto vs the common wealth, and the Common wealth recommending it self vnto him: and a little before his latter gaspe, to the principall of the holy Senate, and many other of the people, standing about his bedside, he sayde: “O ye fathers, I committe vnto you the common wealth and my selfe also vnto the Gods: vnto whom I render infinite thankes, bicause they haue taken from me my children, to bee mine heires and haue lefte mee Traiane to succede.” You do remembre (most dread soueraign lord) that the good Empereour Nerua had other successours than your maiesty, of nearer alyance, of greater frendship more bound by seruice, and of greater proofe in warfare: notwithstandyng amongs other noble personages, vpon you alone he cast his eyes, reposinge in you such opinyon and confidence, as to reuiue the prowes and valyaunt facts of the good Emperor Augustus, he suppressed in oblivion the insolent facts of Domitian. When Nerua came vnto the Crowne, he found the treasure pilled, the Senate in dissentyon, the people in commotion, Iustice not obserued, and the Common wealth ouerthrowen: which you likewyse presentlye shall finde, although otherwyse quiet and wholy reformed: wherfore we shalbe right glad, that you conserue the Common wealth in the state wherin your vncle Nerua left it, consideryng specially that new Prynces vnder colour to introduce new customs, do ouerthrow their common Wealths: fourtene Prynces your predecessours in the Empyre were naturally borne in Rome, and you are the firste straunger Prynce. Wherefore we pray the immortall Gods, (sith that the stocke of our auncient Cæsars is dead) to send thee good Fortune. Out of the countrey of Spaine was wont to come to this our Romane city great abundance of gold, siluer, steele, leade, and tinne, from theyr mines: but now in place thereof, she giueth vs Emperours to gouern our common wealths: sith then that thou commest of so good a countrey as Spayne is, from so good a Prouince as is Vandolosia, and from so excellent a citty as Cales is, of so noble and fortunate a Linage as is Cocceius, and aduaunced to so noble an Empire, it is to be supposed that thou wilt proue good and not euil: for the Gods immortall many times do take away their graces from vngratefull men: moreouer (most excellent prince) sith you wrote vnto vs the maner and order what we ought to doe: reason it is that we write to you agayne what you ought to foresee: and sith you haue tolde vs, and taught vs to obey you, meete it is that we may know what your pleasure is to commaunde: for that (it may come to passe) that as you haue bene brought vp in Spayne, and of longe time bene absent from Rome, through followinge the Warres, that not knowing the lawes whereunto we are sworn, and the customes which we haue in Rome, yee commaunde some thinge that may redound to our damage, and to your dishonor: and therefore we accoumpt it reason that your Maiesty bee aduertised hereof, and the same preuented, for so much as Princes oftentimes be negligent of many things, not for that they wil not foresee the same, but rather for want of one that dare tell them what they ought to doe: and therefore we humbly beseech your most excellent maiesty, to extende and shewe forth your wisedome and prudence, for that the Romanes hearts bene drawen and made pliant rather by fauourable diligence, than by prouoked force. Touchinge the vertue, Iustice, may it please you to remembre the same: for your olde vncle Nerua was wont to say, that a Prince for all his magnanimity, valiaunce, and felicity, if he do not vse and maintayne Iustice, ought not for any other merite to be praysed and commended. Semblably we make our humble Petition, that those commaundements which you shal send and require to be put in execution, be thoroughly established and obserued: for the goodnesse of the lawe doth not consist in the ordinaunce, but in the fulfilling and acomplishement of the same: wee will not also omit to say vnto you (most famous Prince) that you must haue pacience to suffer the importunate, and to dissemble with the offenders: for that it is the deede of a Prince to chastise and punishe the wrongs done in a common wealth, and to pardon the disobedience done vnto him. You send vs word by your letters that you wil not come to Rome, vntyll you haue finished the Germaine Warres: whych seemeth vnto vs to be the determination of a vertuous and right noble Emperour, for so mutch as good Princes such as you be, oughte not to desire and chose places of delite and recreation, but rather to seke and win renowne and fame. You commaunde vs also to haue regarde to the veneration of the Temples, and to the seruice of the Gods: whych request is iuste, but very iuste it were and meete that your selfe should doe the same: for our seruice would little preuaile, if you should displease them. You wil vs also one to loue an other, whych is the counsel of a holy and peaceable Prince: but know ye that wee shal not be able to doe the same, if you wil not loue and intreat vs all in equall and indifferent sorte: for Prynces chearyshinge and louing some aboue the rest, do raise slanders and grudges amongs the people: you likewise recommend vnto vs, the poore and the widowes: wherin we thinke that you ought to commaund the Collecters of your Tributes, that they do not grieue, when they gather your ryghtes and customes: for greater sinne it is to spoyle and pill the needy sort, than meritorious to succour and relieue them. Likewise you do persuade vs to be quiet and circumspect in our affayres, which is a persuasion resembling the nature of a worthye Prynce and also of a pitifull father. In semblable maner you require vs not to be opinionatiue and wilfull in the Senate, ne affectionate to self wil whych shal be done accordingly as you commaund, and accept it as you say: but therwithall you ought to think that in graue and wayghty matters, the more depely things be debated, the better they shall be prouided and decreed: you bid vs also to beware, the Censores be honest of lyfe and rightful in doing iustice: to that we aunswere, that in the same we will haue good respect, but it is expedient that you take hede to them whom you shal name and appoint to those offices: for if you do chose such as they ought to be, no cause shal rise to reprehend them. Item wher you say, that we ought to take hede, that our children committe no offences to the people, wherein the aduise of the senate is, that you do draw them awaye from vs, and cal them to the Almayne warres, for as you do knowe (right souerain prince) that when the publike welth is exempt, and voyd of enimies, then the same wil begin to bee replenyshed wyth youthfull vices. Notwithstanding when the warres bee farre of from Rome, then the same to them is profitable, bicause there is nothing which better cleanseth common wealths from wicked people, than warres in straunge Countries. Concernyng other things which you write vnto vs nedefull it is not now to recite them, but onely to see them kept: for truely they seeme rather to be the lawes of God Apollo him selfe, than counsels of a Mortall man. The gods preserue your Maiesty, and graunt you good successe in those your warres.

These Letters and Epistles, although besides the Scope and Nature of a Nouell, yet so worthy to be read and practysed, as no History or other mortall Precepte more: expressing the great care of a maister towards his scholler, that he should proue no worse being an emperor, than he shewed hymselfe diligent when he was a Scholer: fearing that if he should gouerne contrary to his expectation, or degenerate from the good institution, whych in hys yong yeares hee imbraced, that the blame and slaunder should rest in hymselfe: that was his tutor and bringer vp. O careful Plutarch, O most happy maister, as well for thine owne industry, as for the good successe of such a Scholer: and O most fortunate and vertuous Emperor, that could so wel brooke and digest the blissed persuasions of sutch a maister, whose mind wyth the blast of promotion, was not so swolne and puffed, but that it vouchsafed to cal him father and maister, stil crauing for in instigation of reproofe, when he slid or slypped from the path of reason and duety. And happy Counsel and Senate that could so wel like and practyse the documents of such an Emperour.

THE THIRTEENTH NOUELL.

A notable History of three amorous Gentlewomen, called Lamia, Flora, and Lais: conteyning the sutes of noble Princes and other great Personages made vnto them, with their answeres to diuers demaundes: and the manner of their death and funerals.

Leauynge now our morall discourse of a carefull Mayster, of a prouydent Scholer, of a vertuous Emperoure, of a sacred Senate, and vniforme magistery, returne we to the setting forth and description of three arrant honest Women, which for lewdnesse wer famous, and for wicked Lyfe worthy to be noted with a blacke coale, or rather their memory raked in the Dust and Cinders of their Corpses vnpure. But as all histories be ful of lessons of vertue and vice, as Bookes, sacred and prophane, describe the liues of good and bad for example sake, to yelde meanes to the posterity, to ensue the one and eschue the other, so haue I thought to intermingle amongest these Nouels the seuerall sortes of either, that ech Sexe and Kinde may pike out like the Bee, of ech Floure, Honny, to store and furnishe with delightes their well disposed myndes. I purpose, then, to vnlace the dissolute lyues of three Amorouse Dames, that with their graces allured the greatest Princes that euer were: enticed the noble men, and sometimes procured the wisest and best learned to craue their acquaintance, as by the sequele hereof shall well appeare. These three famous Women, (as Writers do witnesse) were furnished with many goodly graces and giftes of nature: that is to say, great beautye of face, goodly proporcion of body, large and high foreheades, theyr breastes placed in comely order, smal wasted, fayre handes of passing cunning to play vpon Instruments, a heauenly voice to fayne and sing: briefly, their qualities and beauty were more famous than euer any that were born within the Countries of Asia and Europa. They were neuer beloued of Prince that did forsake them, nor yet they made request of any thing which was denied them: they neuer mocked or flowted man (a thing rare in women of theyr condition) ne yet were mocked of any: but theyr specyal propreties wer to allure men to loue them: Lamia wyth hir pleasaunt loke and eye, Flora with hir eloquent tongue, and Lais wyth the grace and sweetenesse of hir singing voyce: a straunge thinge that he which once was surprysed wyth the loue of any of those three, eyther to late or neuer was delyuered of the same. They were the richest courtizans that euer lyued in the worlde, so long as theyr life did last, and after theyr decease, great monumentes were erected for theyr remembraunce, in place where they died. The most auncient of these three Amorous dames was Lamia, who was in the tyme of King Antigonus, that warfared in the seruice of Alexander the Great, a valyant gentleman, although not fauored by Fortune. Thys kynge Antigonus left behynde hym a sonne and heyre called Demetrius, who was lesse valyaunt, but more fortunate than his father, and had bene a Prynce of greate estimation, if in hys youthe hee had acquyred frendes, and kept the same, and in hys age had not ben gyuen to so many vices. Thys King Demetrius was in loue with Lamia, and presented hir wyth rich giftes and rewardes, and loued hir so affectionately, and in sutch sort, as in the loue of his Lamia he semed rather a fole than a true louer: for, forgetting the grauity and authoritye of his person, hee dyd not onelye gyue hir all such things as she demaunded, but besides that hee vsed no more the company of his wyfe Euxonia. On a tyme Kyng Demetrius asking Lamia what was the thing wherewyth a woman was sonest wonne? “There is nothing,” answered shee, “whych sooner ouercommeth a Woman, than when she seeth a man to loue hir with al hys hart, and to susteyne for hir sake greate paynes and passyons wyth long continuance and entier affection, for to love men by collusion, causeth afterwards that they be mocked.” Agayn, Demetrius asked hir further: “Tell me, Lamia, why doe diuerse Women rather hate than loue men?” Whereunto she answered: “The greatest cause why a Woman doth hate a man, is, when the man doth vaunt and boast himselfe of that which he doth not, and performeth not the thing which he promiseth.” Demetrius demaunded of her: “Tell me, Lamia, what is the thing wherewith men doe content you best?”—“When wee see him,” sayde she, “to be dyscrete in wordes, and secrete in his dedes.” Demetrius asked hir further: “Tell me, Lamia, how chaunceth it that men be ill matched?” “Bycause,” answered Lamia, “it is impossible that they be well maryed, when the wife is in neede, and the husbande vndiscrete.” Demetrius asked hir what was the cause that amitye betwene lwo louers was broken? “There is nothing,” answered she, “that soner maketh colde the loue betwene two louers, than when one of them doth straye in loue, and the Woman louer to importunate to craue.” He demaunded further: “Tell me, Lamia, what is the thinge that moste tormenteth the louing man?” “Not to attayne the thing which he desireth,” answered she, “and thinketh to lose the thing whych he hopeth to enioy.” Demetrius yet once agayne asked hir thys question: “What is that, Lamia, which most troubleth a Woman’s hart?” “There is nothing,” answered Lamia, “wherwith a woman is more grieued, and maketh hir more sad, than to be called ill fauored, or that she hath no good grace, or to vnderstand that she is dissolute of lyfe.” This lady Lamia was of iudgement delicate and subtyll, although il imployed in hir, and thereby made al the world in loue with hir, and drew al men to hir through hir fayre speach. Now, before she lost the heart of Kyng Demetrius, shee haunted of long time the vniuersities of Athenes, where she gayned great store of money, and brought to destructyon many young men. Plutarch, in the lyfe of Demetrius, saith, That the Atheniens hauing presented vnto him XII. C. talents of money for a subsidie to pay his men of warre, he gaue al that summe to his woman Lamia: by meanes whereof the Atheniens grudged, and were offended wyth the kyng, not for the losse of their gift, but for that it was so euil employed. When the King Demetrius would assure any thynge by oth, hee swore not by his gods, ne yet by his predecessors, but in this sort: “As I may be styll in the grace of my lady Lamia, and as hir lyfe and mine may ende together, so true is this which I say and do, in this and thys sort.” One yere and two Moneths before the Death of King Demetrius, his frend Lamia died, who sorowed so mutch hir death, as for the absence and death of hir, he caused the Phylosophers of Athens to entre in this Disputation, Whether the teares and sorow whiche he shed and toke for her sake, were more to be estemed than the riches which he spent in her obsequies and funerall pompes. This Amorous gentlewoman Lamia, was borne in Argos, a City of Peloponnesus, besides Athenes, of base parentage, who in hir first yeares haunted the countrey of Asia Maior, of very wyld and dissolute lyfe, and in the ende came into Phænicia. And when the Kyng Demetrius had caused hir to be buried beefore hys chamber-window, hys chiefest frendes asked him, wherefore hee had entoomed hir in that place? his aunswere was this: “I loued hir so wel, and she likewyse me so hartyly, as I know not which way to satisfie the loue which she bare me, and the duety I haue to loue her agayne, if not to put hir in such place as myne eyes maye wepe euery day and mine hart still lament.” Truely this loue was straung, which so mighty a Monarch as Demetrius was, did beare vnto such a notable curtizan, a woman vtterly void of grace, barren of good workes, and without any zeale or spark of vertue, as it should appeare. But sith we read and know that none are more giuen or bent to vnreasonable loue, than mighty Princes, what should it bee demed straung and maruellous, if Demetrius amongs the rest do come in place for the loue of that most famous woman, if Fame may stretch to eyther sorts, both good and euill? But let vs come to the second infamous gentlewoman, called Lais. She was of the isle of Bithritos, which is in the confines of Græcia, and was the daughter of the great Sacrificer of Apollo his temple at Delphos, a man greatly experienced in the magike art, wherby he prophecyed the perdition of his daughter. Now this amorous Lias was in triumph in the time of the renowmed King Pyrrhus, a Prince very ambitious to acquire honor, but not very happy to keepe it, who being yonge of sixteene or seuenteene yeares, came into Italy to make warres against the Romains: he was the first (as some say) that aranged a camp in ordre, and made the Phalanx, the mayne square and battell: for before hys time, when they came to entre battell, they assailed confusedly and out of array gaue the onset. This amorous Lias continued long time in the campe of Kynge Pyrrhus, and went wyth hym into Italy, and wyth him retourned from warre agayne, and yet hir nature was sutch, as shee woulde neuer bee mainteined wyth one man alone. The same Lias was so amorous in her conuersatyon, so excellent fayre, and of so comely grace, that if shee would haue kept hir selfe faythfull to one Lorde or gentleman, there was no prynce in the world but if he would haue yelded himselfe and all that he had at hir commaundement. Lias, from hir retourne out of Italy into Greece, repayred to the citye of Corinth, to make hir abode there, where she was pursued by many kings, lordes, and prynces. Aulus Gellius saith (which I haue recited in my former part of the Pallace of pleasure, the fiftenth Noeuill,) that the good Philosopher, Demosthenes, went from Athens to Corinth, in disguised apparell, to see Lais, and to haue hir company, But before the dore was opened, she sent one to demaunde .XII. C. Sestercios of siluer: whereunto Demosthenes answered: “I buy not repentance so deere.” And I beleue that Demosthenes spake those wordes by folowyng the sentence of Diogenes, who sayeth, that euery beast after such acte is heauy and sad. Som wryters affirme of this Amorous Lais, that thing whych I neuer reade or hearde of Woman: whych is, that shee neuer shewed signe or token of loue to that man whych was desyrous to doe her seruice: nor was neuer hated of man that knew her. Whereby we may comprehend the happe and fortune of that amorous Woman. Shee neuer shewed semblance of great loue to any person, and yet shee was beloued of all. If the amorous Lamia had a good Spirite and mynde, Lais truely had no lesse. For in the art of loue she exceeded all other women of hir detestable Arte and Scyence, as well in Knowledge of Loue as to profite in the same. Vppon a Daye a Younge Man of Corinth demaundying of hir, what hee shoulde say to a Woman whome hee long tyme had loued, and made so greate sute, that thereby he was like to fal into dispayre. “Thou shalt say,” (sayd Lais) “vnto hir, that sith she wyl not graunt thy request, yet at least wyse it myght please hir to suffer thee to bee hir seruant, and that shee would take in good parte the Seruice that thou shalt doe vnto hir. Whych requeste if shee doe graunte, then hope to attayne the ende of thy attempte, bycause wee Women bee of such nature, as opening our mouthes to gyue some mylde and pleasant answere to the amorous person, it is to bee thoughte that wee haue gyuen our heart vnto hym.” An other Daye, in the presence of Lias, one praysed the Phylosophers of Athens, saying, that they were very honest personages, and of great learnynge. Whereunto Lais aunswered: “I can not tell what great knowledg they haue, nor what science they studye, ne yet what bookes youre Philosophers doe reade, but thys I am sure, that to me beynge a woman and neuer was at Athenes, I see them repayre, and of Philosophers beecome amorous persons.” A Theban knighte demaunded of Lais, what he might doe to enioy a ladye wyth whose loue hee should bee surprised: Shee aunswered thus. “A man that is desirous of a woman, must folow his sute, serue hir, and suffer hir and somtymes to seeme as though he had forgotten hir. For after that a womans heart is moued to loue, she regardeth more the forgetfulnesse and negligence vsed towards hir, than she doth the seruice done before.” An other Gentleman of Achaia asked hir what he shoulde doe to a woman, whom he suspected that she had falsified hir fayth. Lais aunswered, “make hir beleue that thou thinkest she is very faythful and take from hir the occasions wherby shee hath good cause to be vnfaythful: For if she do perceiue that thou knowest it, and dissemblest the matter, she wyll sooner dye than amende.” A gentleman of Palestine at another time inquired of hir what hee should doe to a Woman whych he serued, and did not esteeme the seruyce done vnto hir, ne yet gaue him thankes for the loue which hee bare hir. Lais sayed vnto him: “If thou be disposed to serue hir no longer, let hir not perceiue that thou hast gyuen hir ouer. For naturally we women be tendre in loue, and hard in hatred.” Beyng demaunded by one of hir Neyghbours what shee shoulde doe to make hir Daughter very wyse. “Shee” (sayde Lais) “that wyll haue hir Daughter to bee good and honest, must from her youth learne hir to feare, and in going abrode to haunte litle company, and that she be shamefast and moderate in hir talke.” An other of hir neighbors inquyryng of hir what shee myght doe to hir daughter whych began to haue delyght to rome in the fieldes and wander abroade. “The remedy” (sayde Lais) “that I finde for your daughter disposed to that condition, is, not to suffer hir to be ydle, ne yet to be braue and sumptuous in apparel.” This amorous gentlewoman Lais, dyed in the Citye of Corinth, of the age of .lXXII. Yeares, whose death was of many matrones desired and of a great numbre of amorous persones lamented. The thyrd amorous gentlewoman was called Flora, which was not so auncient, ne yet of so greate renoume as Lamia and Lais were, whose country also was not so famous, For she was of Italy, and the other two of Grecia, and although that Lamia and Lais exceded Flora in antiquity, yet Flora surmounted them in lineage and generositie. For Flora was of noble house, although in life lesse than chast. She was of the country of Nola in Campania, issued of certayne Romans, Knights very famous in facts of Armes and of great industrie and gouernement in the common wealth. When the Father and mother of this Flora deceased, she was of the age of XV. yeares, indued with great riches and singular beauty, and the very orphane of all hir kynne. For shee had neyther brother lefte wyth whom shee myght soiourne, ne yet vncle to gyue her good counsell. In such wyse that lyke as this young maistres Flora had youthe, riches, lyberty and beauty, euen so there wanted neyther baudes nor Pandores to entyce hir to fal, and allure hir to folly. Flora seeing hir self beset in this wise, she determined to goe into the Affrick warres, where she hazarded both in hir person and hir honor. This dame florished and tryumphed in the tyme of the firste Punique warres, when the Consul Mamillus was sent to Carthage, who dispended more Money vpon the loue of Flora, than hee did vpon the chase and pursute of his enimies. This amorous lady Flora had a writyng and tytle fixed vpon hir gate, the effect wherof was this: King, Prince, Dictator, Consul, Censor, high Bishop, and Questor may knocke and come in. In that writyng Flora named neither emperor nor Cæsar, bycause those two most Noble names were long tyme after created by the Romanes. Thys Amorous Flora woulde neuer abandon hir Person, but wyth Gentlemen of Noble House, or of greate Dygnitye and Ryches. For shee was wonte to say that a Woman of passinge Beauty shoulde be so mutch esteemed as shee doth esteeme and sette by hir selfe. Lias and Flora were of contrary maners and conditions. For Lias would first bee payde, before shee yelded the vse of hir bodye: but Flora wythout any semblance of desire eyther of golde or siluer was contented to bee ruled by those with whom shee committed the facte. Wherof vppon a day being demaunded the question, she answered: “I gyue my body to prynces and noble Barons, that they may deale with mee lyke Gentlemen. For I sweare vnto you by the Goddesse Venus, that neuer man gaue me so little, but that I had more than I looked for, and the double of that which I could demaund.” This Amorous lady Flora was wont many times to saye, that a wise woman (or more aptly to terme her a subtyll Wench) oughte not to demaund reward of her louer for the acceptable pleasure which she doth hym but rather for the loue whych she beareth him, bycause that al thinges in the world haue a certayn pryce, except loue, which cannot bee payde or recompenced but wyth loue. All the Ambassadors of the worlde, whych had accesse into Italy, made so greate reporte of the Beauty and Generositie of Flora, as they dyd of the Romane common wealth, bycause it seemed to bee a Monstrous thynge to see the Ryches of hir house, hir trayne, hir beauty the princes and great lordes by whom she was required, and the presents and giftes that were gyuen vnto hir. This Amorous Flora had a continual regard to the noble house whereof shee came touchyng the magnyficence and state of her seruyce. For albeit that she was but a common woman, yet she was serued and honored lyke a great lady. That day wherein she rode about the city of Rome, she gaue occasion to be spoken of a whole month after, one inquirynge of an other what great Romaine lords they were that kepte her company? Whose men they were that waighted vpon her? And whose liuery they ware. What Ladies they wer that rode in her trayne. The brauery of hir apparell, hir great beauty and port, and the wordes spoken by the amorous gentlemen in that troupe were not vnremembred. When this maistres Flora waxed old, a yong and beautifull gentleman of Corinth, demaunded her to wyfe, to whom she answered: “I know well that thou wilt not marie, the three score yeares whych Flora hath, but rather thou desirest to haue the twelue hundred thousand Sestercios which she hath in hir Coffres. Content thy selfe therefore, my frende, and get thee home agayne to Corinth from whence thou comest. For to sutch as be of myne age great honor is borne, and reuerence done for the riches and wealth they haue, rather than for mariage.” There was neuer in the Romane Empyre, the lyke amorous woman that Flora was, indued wyth so many graces and Queenelyke qualities, for shee was of noble house, of singuler beauty, of comely personage, discrete in hir affayres, and besides al other comly qualyties, very lyberall. This maistres Flora spent the most part of hir youth in Affrica, Almayne and Gallia Transalpina. And albeit that she would not suffre anye other but great lords to haue possession of hir body, yet she applyed hir selfe to the spoile of those that were in place, and to the praye of those that came from the warres. This amorous Flora died when she was of the age of LXXV. yeares. She left for the principal heire of all hir goods and Iuells. the Romain people, which was estemed sufficient and able to make newe the Walles of Rome, and to raunsome and redeme the common Wealth of the same. And bycause that shee was a Romaine, and had made the state therefore hir heyre, the Romaines builded in hir honor a sumptuous Temple, whych in memorye of Fora was called Florianum: and euery yeare in the memorye of hir, they celebrated hir feast vppon the day of hir death: Suetonius Tranquillus sayeth, that the first feaste which the Emperour Galba the second celebrated wyth in Rome, was the feast of the amorous Flora, vpon whych daye it was lawful for men and women, to doe what kynd of dishonesty they could deuise. And she was estemed to be the greater saint which that day shewed her selfe moste dissolute and wanton. And bicause that the temple Florianum, was dedycated to amorous Flora, the Romanes had an opinion, that al women which vpon the same day repayred to the Temple in whorish apparell, should haue the graces and giftes that Flora had. These were the fond opinions and maners of the auncient, which after their owne makinge and deuises framed Gods and Goddesses, and bycause she proued vnshamefast and rich, a Temple must bee erected, and Sacrifices ordayned for hir Whorish triumphes. But that noble men and Kings haue bene rapt and transported with the lurements of sutch notorious strumpets, is and hath bene common in all ages. And commonly sutch infamous women be indewed with greatest gifts and graces, the rather to noosell and dandle their fauorers in the laps of their fadinge pleasures. But euery of them a most speciall grace, aboue the rest. As of a Kyng not lot long agoe we reade, that kept three, one the holiest, another the craftiest, and the third the meriest. Two of which properties meete for honest Women: although the third so incident to that kinde as heat to a liuinge body. Cease wee then of this kynde, and let vs step forth to be acquaynted with a lady and a Queene the Godlyest and stoutest, that is remembred in any auncient Monument or Hystory.

THE FOURTEENTH NOUELL.

The lyfe and giftes of the most Famous Queene Zenobia with the letters of the Emperour Avrelianvs to the sayde Queene, and her stoute aunswere thereunto.

Zenobia Queene of Palmyres, was a right famous Gentlewoman, as diuerse Hystoriographers largely do report and write. Who although shee was no Christian Lady, yet so worthy of Imitation, as she was for hir vertues and heroycall facts of Immortall prayse. By hir wysedome and stoutnesse she subdued all the empire of the Orient, and resisted the inuincible Romans. And for that it is meete and requisite to alleage and aduouch reasons by weight, and words by measure, I wil orderly begin to recite the History of that most famous Queene. Wherefore I say, that about the .284. Olimpiade, no long tyme after the death of the vnhappy Emperour Decius, Valerian was chosen Emperour by the Senate, and (as Trebellius Pollio his Hystorian doth describe) he was a well learned prince, indued with manyfold vertues, that for his speciall prayse, these wordes be recorded of him. If all the World had bene assembled to chose a good Prince, they would not haue chosen any other but good Valerian. It is also written of hym, that in liberality he was noble, in words true, in talke wary, in promise constant, to his frends familiar, and to his enemies seuere, and which is more to be esteemed, he could not forget seruice, nor yet reuenge wronge. It came to passe that in the XIV. yeare of his raygne, there rose sutch cruell Warres in Asia, that forced he was to go thither in his owne person, to resist Sapor king of the Persians, a very valyaunt man of Warre and fortunate in his enterprises, which happinesse of hys not long time after the arryuall of Valerian into Asia, hee manifested and shewed. For beeyng betwene them such hot and cruell warres, in a skyrmish, throughe the greate faulte of the General, (which had the conduct of the armye) the Emperour Valerian was taken, and brought into the puissance of King Sapor hys ennimy, whych cursed tyrant so wickedlye vsed that victory, as hee woulde by no meanes put the Emperour to raunsome, towards whom hee vsed such cruelty, that so oft and so many tymes, as hee was disposed to gette vp on horsebacke hee vsed the body of olde Valerian to serue hym for aduauntage, setting his feete vppon the throate of that aged gentleman. In that myserable office and vnhappy captiuity serued and dyed the good Emperour Valerian, not wyth oute the greate sorrowe of them that knew him, and the rueful compassion of those that sawe him, which the Romans considering, and that neither by offre of gold, or siluer, or other meanes, they were able to redeeme Valerian, they determined to choose for Emperour his owne sonne called Galienus: which they did more for respect of the father, than for any minde or corage they knew to bee in the sonne. Who afterwardes shewed himselfe to bee farre different from the conditions of his father Valerian, being in his enterprises a cowarde, in his promisses a lyer, in correction cruell, towards them that serued him vnthanckfull, (and which is worse,) hee gaue himselfe to his desires, and yealded place to sensuality. By meanes wherof, in his tyme the Romain Empyre more than in any others raygne, lost most prouinces and receiued greatest shame. In factes of warre he was a cowarde, and in gouernement of common wealth, a very weake and feeble man. Galienus not caryng for the state of the Empire, became so myserable as the Gouernors of the same gaue ouer their obedience, and in the tyme of hys raygne, there rose vp thyrty tyrants, whych vsurped the same. Whose names doe followe, Cyriades, Posthumus the yonger, Lollius, Victorinus, Marius, Ingenuus, Regillianus, Aureolus, Macrianus, Machianus the younger, Quietus, Odenatus, Herodes, Mœnius Ballista, Valens, Piso Emilianus, Staturnius, Tetricus, Etricus the younger, Trebelianus, Heremianus, Timolaus, Celsus, Titus, Censorinus, Claudius, Aurelius, and Quintillus, of whom XVIII, were captaynes and seruiters vnder the good Emperour Valerian. Sutch delight had the Romanes, in that auncient world, to haue good Captaynes, as were able to bee preferred to be Emperours. Nowe in that tyme the Romanes had for their Captayne generall, a knight called Odenatus, the Prynce of Palmerines, a man truely of great vertue, and of passinge industry and hardinesse in facts of warre. This Captayne Odenatus maried a woman that descended of the auncient linage of the Ptolomes, tometymes Kinges of Ægypt, named Zenobia, which (if the historians do not deceiue vs) was one of the most famous Women of the Worlde. Shee had the heart of Alexander the great, shee possessed the riches of Cræsus, the diligence of Pyrrhus, the trauel of Haniball, the warie foresighte of Marcellus, and the Iustice of Traiane. When Zenobia was married to Odenatus, she had by hir other husband, a sonne called Herodes, and by Odenatus shee had two other, whereof the one was called Hyeronianus, and the other Ptolemus. And when the Emperour Valerian was vanquyshed and taken, Odenatus was not then in the Campe. For as all men thought, if he had ben there, they had not receyued so greate an ouerthrow. So sone as good Odenatus was aduertized of the defaict of Valerian, in great haste he marched to the Roman Campe, that then was in great disorder. Whych with greate diligence hee reassembled, and reduced the same to order, and (holpen by good Fortune,) wythin xxx. Dayes after hee recouered all that whych Valerian had loste, makynge the Persian kyng to flee, by meanes whereof, and for that Odenatus had taken charge of the army, hee wanne amonges the Romanes great reputation, and truely not with out cause: For if in that good time he had not receyued the charge the name and glory of the Romanes had taken ende in Asia. Duryng all thys tyme Galienus, lyued in hys delyghtes at Myllan, wythout care or thoughte of the Common wealth, consumynge in his wylfull vices, the Money that was leuied for the men of war. Whych was the cause that the gouernours of the prouinces, and Captens general, seing him to be so vicious and neglygent, vsurped the prouinces and armies which they had in charge. Galienus voyde of all obedience sauing of the Italians and Lombards, the first that rose vp against him were Posthumus in Fraunce, Lollians in Spayne, Victorinus in Affrica, Marius in Britane, Ingenuus in Germanie, Regillianus in Denmark, Aureolus in Hungarie, Macrianus in Mesopotamia, and Odenatus, in Syria. Before Odenatus rose against Valerian, Macrianus enioied Mesopotamia and the greatest part of Syria, whereof Odenatus hauing intelligence, he marched with his power agaynst him and killed him, and discomfited all his army. The death of the Tyran Macrian being knowen, and that Galienus was so vicious, the armies in Asia assembled and chose Odenatus Emperour: which Election although the Senate publickly durst not agree vpon, yet secretly they allowed it, bycause they receyued dayly newes, of the great Exploytes and deedes of armes done by Odenatus, and saw on the other side the great continued follies of Galienus. Almost three yeares and a halfe was Odenatus Emperour and Lord of all the Orient, duringe which time he recouered all the Lands and Prouinces lost by Galienus, and payde the Romane army all the arrerages of their wages due vnto them. But Fortune ful of inconstancy, suffred not this good Prynce very long to raygne. For hauing in hys house a kinsman of hys, named Meonius, to whom he bare great good will, for that he sawe him to be a valiant man of warre, although Ignorant of his Enuy and couetousnesse: it chaunced vpon a day as they two rode on huntinge, and gallopinge after the pursute of a wylde Bore, with the very same Bore Speare which Meonius caried to strike the beast, he killed by treason his good Cousin Odenatus. But that murder was not long time vnreuenged. For the Borespeare wherewith he had so cruelly killed the Emperour his Cousin, was incontinently known by the hunters which folowed Odenatus: whervpon that day the head of Meonius was striken of. And Galienius vnderstandinge the death of Odenatus, gaue great rewardes and presents to them that brought him the newes, beinge so ioyfull as the Romans wer angry to vnderstand those pitiful tydings, bycause through the good ordre which Odenatus vsed in Asia, they had great tranquillity and peace throughout Europa. Now after the death of thys good Emperour Odenatus, the Armies chose one of his two Sonnes to be Emperour of the Orient: But for that he was younge, they chose Zenobia to be Protector of hir sonne, and gouerner ouer the sayd Orient Empyre. Who seeing that vpon the decease of Odenatus certayne of the East Countries began to reuolt, shee determined to open hir Treasure, ressemble hir men of Warre, and in hir owne person to march into the fielde: where she did sutch notable enterprises, as shee appalled hir enemies, and made the whole world to wonder. About the age of .XXXV. yeares Zenobia was widow, beinge the Tutrix of hir children, Regent of an Empyre, and Captayne generall of the army. In which weighty charge she vsed hir selfe so wisely and well, as shee acquired no lesse noble name in Asia, than Queene Semiramis did in India. Zenobia was constant in that whych she tooke in hand, true in words, liberall, mylde, and seuere where she ought to be, discrete, graue, and secrete in her enterprises, albeit she was ambicious. For, not content with hir title of Gouernesse, or Regent, she wrote and caused her selfe to be called Empresse, she loued not to ride vpon a Mule, or in a littor, but greatly esteemed to haue great horse in hir stable and to learne to handle and ryde them. When Zenobia went forth of hir Tent to see the order and gouernment of hir Campe, she continually did put on her Armure, and was well guarded with a band of men, so that of a woman, she cared but onely for the name, and in the facts of Armes shee craued the title of valiaunt. The Captaynes of hir Army, neuer gaue battell, or made assault, they neuer skyrmished or did other enterprise of warre, but she was present in her owne person, and attempted to shewe hirselfe more hardy than any of all the troupe, a thinge almost incredible in that weake and feeble kinde. The sayd noble Queene was of stature, bigge and well proporcioned, her eyes black and quicke, hir forehead large, hir stomak and Breastes fayre and vpright, her Face white, and ruddy, a little mouth, hir Teeth so whyte, as they seemed like a rancke of white pearles, but aboue all things she was of sutch excellent Spirit and courage, as shee was feared for hir stoutnesse, and beloued for her beauty. And although Zenobia was indued with so great beauty, liberality, riches, and puissaunce, yet she was neuer stayned with the blemish of vnchaste lyfe, or wyth other vanity: and as hir husband Odenatus was wont to say, that after shee felt hir selfe wyth chylde, shee neuer suffred hym to come neare her, (sutch was hir great Chastity) sayinge that Women ought to marry rather for children than for pleasure. She was also excellently well learned in the Greke and Latine tongue. Shee did neuer eate but one Meale a Day. Hir talke was verye lyttle and rare. The Meate which shee vsed for hir repaste, was either the hanch of a Wylde Bore, or else the syde of a Deere. Shee could drinke no Wyne, nor abyde the sent thereof. But shee was so curyous in good and perfect Waters, as shee would gyue so great a Pryce for that, as is ordinaryly gyuen for Wyne bee it neuer so excellent. So soone as the Kinges of Ægypte of Persia, and the Greekes, were aduertized of the death of Odenatus, they sent theyr Ambassadours to Zenobia, aswell to visite and comfort hir, as to bee her confederats and frendes. So much was she feared and redoubted for her rare vertues. The affayres of Zenobia beinge in sutch estate in Asia, the Emperor Galienus died in Lombardie, and the Romanes chose Aurelianus to bee Emperour, who although he was of a base and obscure lineage, yet hee was of a great valiance in factes of Armes. When Aurelianus was chosen Emperour, he made great preparacion into Asia, to inferre warres vpon Queene Zenobia, and in all hys tyme hee neuer attempted greater enterprise for the Romanes. When hee was arryued in Asia, the Emperour proceded agaynst the Queene, and shee as valiantly defended hir selfe, continually being betwene them great Alarams and skirmishes. But as Zenobia and hir people were of lesse trauell and of better skyl in knowledge of the Country, so they did greater harme and more anoiance vnto theyr Enimy, and thereof receiued lesser damage. The Emperour seing that hee should haue mutch adoe to vanquishe Zenobia by armes, determined to ouercome hir by gentle wordes and fayre promisses: for which cause he wrote vnto hir a letter, the tenor whereof ensueth.

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

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

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

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

THE FIFTEENTH NOUELL.

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

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

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