nature did abhor; so that they placed it in one of the ends of the boat, and with a few green boughs made a homely cabin to shroud it as they could from wind and weather. Having thus trimmed the boat they tied it to a ship, and so haled it into the main sea, and then cut in sunder the cord, which they had no sooner done, but there arose a mighty tempest, which tossed the little boat so vehemently in the waves, that the shipmen thought it could not long continue without sinking, yea the storm grew so great, that with much labour and peril they got to the shore.

But leaving the child to her fortunes, again to Pandosto, who not yet glutted with sufficient revenge, devised which way he should best increase his wife's calamity. But first assembling his nobles and counsellors, he called her for the more reproach into open court, where it was objected against her, that she had committed adultery with Egistus, and conspired with Franion to poison Pandosto her husband, but their pretence being partly spied, she counselled them to fly away by night for their better safety. Bellaria, who, standing like a prisoner at the bar, feeling in herself a clear conscience to withstand her false accusers, seeing that no less than death could pacify her husband's wrath, waxed bold, and desired that she might have law and justice, for mercy she neither craved nor hoped for; and that those perjured wretches, which had falsely accused her to the king, might be brought before her face, to give in evidence. But Pandosto, whose rage and jealousy was such, no reason nor equity could appease, told her, that for her accusers they were of such credit, as their words were sufficient witness, and that the sudden and secret flight of Egistus and Franion confirmed that which they had confessed: and as for her, it was her part to deny such a monstrous crime, and to be impudent in forswearing the fact, since she had passed all shame in committing the fault: but her stale countenance should stand for no coin, for as the bastard which she bare was served, so she should with some cruel death be requited. Bellaria, no whit dismayed with this rough reply, told her husband Pandosto, that he spake upon choler, and not conscience: for her virtuous life had been ever such as no spot of suspicion could ever stain. And if she had borne a friendly countenance to Egistus, it was in respect he was his friend, and not for any lusting affection: therefore if she were condemned without any further proof, it was rigour, and not law.

The noblemen which sat in judgment said that Bellaria spake reason, and entreated the king that the accusers might be openly examined, and sworn, and if then the evidence were such as the jury might find her guilty (for seeing she was a princess she ought to be tried by her peers), then let her have such punishment as the extremity of the law will assign to such malefactors. The king presently made answer, that in this case he might and would dispense with the law, and that the jury being once panelled, they should take his word for sufficient evidence, otherwise he would make the proudest of them repent it. The noblemen seeing the king in choler were all whist,' but Bellaria, whose life then hung in the balance, fearing more perpetual infamy than momentary death, told the king, if his fury might stand for a law that it were vain to have the jury yield their verdict; and therefore she fell down upon her knees, and desired the king that for the love he bare to his young son Garinter, whom she brought into the world, that he would grant her a request, which was

1 Whist, silent, from an interjectional sound like "hist" and "hush," that was used, like hush, as a verb. So the Earl of Surrey began his version of the second book of the Eneid, "They whisted all, with fixéd face intent." A game of cards is named "whist" from the silence required for its proper conduct by players, of whom also it onght to be said, "They whisted all, with fixéd face intent."

this, that it would please his majesty to send six of his noblemen whom he best trusted, to the Isle of Delphos, there to inquire of the Oracle of Apollo, whether she had committed adultery with Egistus, or conspired to poison with Franion: and if the god Apollo, who by his divine essence knew all secrets, gave answer that she was guilty, she were content to suffer any torment, were it never so terrible. The request was so reasonable, that Pandosto could not for shame deny it, unless he would be counted of all his subjects more wilful than wise, he therefore agreed, that with as much speed as might be there should be certain Ambassadors dispatched to the Isle of Delphos; and in the mean season he commanded that his wife should be kept in close prison.

Bellaria having obtained this grant was now more careful for her little babe that floated on the seas, than sorrowful for her own mishap. For of that she doubted: of herself she was assured, knowing if Apollo should give oracle according to the thoughts of the heart, yet the sentence should go on her side, such was the clearness of her mind in this case. But Pandosto (whose suspicious head still remained in one song) chose out six of his nobility, whom he knew were scarce indifferent 2 men in the queen's behalf, and providing all things fit for their journey, sent them to Delphos. They willing to fulfil the king's command, and desirous to see the situation and custom of the island, dispatched their affairs with as much speed as might be, and embarked themselves to this voyage, which (the wind and weather serving fit for their purpose) was soon ended. For within three weeks they arrived at Delphos, where they were no sooner set on land, but with great devotion they went to the Temple of Apollo, and there offering sacrifice to the god, and gifts to the priest, as the custom was, they humbly craved an answer of their demand. They had not long kneeled at the altar, but Apollo with a loud voice said: 'Bohemians, what you find behind the altar take and depart." They forthwith obeying the oracle, found a scroll of parchment, wherein was written these words in letters of gold:

THE ORACLE.

Suspicion is no proof: Jealousy is an unequal judge: Bellaria is chaste; Egistus blameless: Franion true subject; Pandosto treacherous: His babe an innocent, and the king shall live without an heir if that which is lost be not found.

As soon as they had taken out this scroll, the priest of the god commanded them that they should not presume to read it, before they came in the presence of Pandosto: unless they would incur the displeasure of Apollo. The Bohemian lords carefully obeying his command, taking their leave of the priest, with great reverence departed out of the temple, and went to their ships, and as soon as wind would permit them, sailed towards Bohemia, whither in short time they safely arrived, and with great triumph issuing out of their ships went to the king's palace, whom they found in his chamber accompanied with other noblemen. Pandosto no sooner saw them, but with a merry countenance he welcomed them home, asking what news. They told his majesty that they had received an answer of the god written in a scroll, but with this charge, that they should not read the contents before they came in the presence of the king, and with that they delivered him the parchment but his noblemen entreated him that since therein was contained either the safety of his wife's life and honesty, or her death and perpetual infamy, that he would have his nobles and commons assembled in the judgment

2 Indifferent, impartial. As when we pray in the Church Service that our judges may "truly and indifferently administer justice."

hall, where the queen, brought in as a prisoner, should hear the contents if she were found guilty by the oracle of the god, then all should have cause to think his rigour proceeded of due desert: if her grace were found faultless, then she should be cleared before all, since she had been accused openly. This pleased the king so, that he appointed the day, and assembled all his Lords and Commons, and caused the queen to be brought in before the judgment seat, commanding that the indictment should be read, wherein she was accused of adultery with Egistus, and of conspiracy with Franion: Bellaria hearing the contents, was no whit astonished, but made this cheerful answer :

"If the divine powers be privy to human actions (as no doubt they are), I hope my patience shall make Fortune blush, and my unspotted life shall stain spiteful discredit. For although lying report hath sought to appeach mine honour, and suspicion hath intended to soil my credit with infamy: yet where virtue keepeth the fort, report and suspicion may assail, but never sack: how I have led my life before Egistus' coming, I appeal, Pandosto, to the gods and to thy conscience. What hath passed between him and me, the gods only know, and I hope will presently reveal. That I loved Egistus I cannot deny that I honoured him I shame not to confess to the one I was forced by his virtues, to the other for his dignities. But as touching lascivious lust, I say Egistus is honest, and hope myself to be found without spot: for Franion, I can neither accuse him nor excuse him, for I was not privy to his departure, and that this is true which I have here rehearsed, I refer myself to the divine oracle."

:

Bellaria had no sooner said, but the king commanded that one of his dukes should read the contents of the scroll; which after the commons had heard, they gave a great shout, rejoicing and clapping their hands that the queen was clear of that false accusation. But the king whose conscience was a witness against him of his witless fury, and false suspected jealousy, was so ashamed of his rash folly, that he entreated his nobles to persuade Bellaria to forgive and forget these injuries: promising not only to show himself a loyal and loving husband, but also to reconcile himself to Egistus and Franion revealing then before them all the cause of their secret flight, and how treacherously he thought to have practised his death, if the good mind of his cupbearer had not prevented his purpose. As thus he was relating the whole matter, there was word brought him that his young son Garinter was suddenly dead, which news so soon as Bellaria heard, surcharged before with extreme joy, and now suppressed with heavy sorrow, her vital spirits were so stopped, that she fell down presently dead, and could never be revived. This sudden sight so appalled the king's senses, that he sank from his seat in a sound, so as he was fain to be carried by his nobles to his palace, where he lay by the space of three days without speech: his commons were as men in despair, so diversely distressed: there was nothing but mourning and lamentation to be heard throughout all Bohemia: their young prince dead, their virtuous queen bereaved of her life, and their king and sovereign in great hazard: this tragical discourse of Fortune so daunted them, as they went like shadows, not men; yet somewhat to comfort their heavy hearts, they heard that Pandosto was come to himself, and had recovered his speech, who as in a fury brayed out these bitter speeches : "O miserable Pandosto, what surer witness than conscience? what thoughts more sour than suspicion? What plague more bad than jealousy? Unnatural actions offend the gods more than men, and causeless cruelty never scapes without

1 Sound, swound, swoon. First English "aswunan," to fail in intellect, to faint.

revenge: I have committed a bloody fact, as repent I may, but recall I cannot. Ah, jealousy, a hell to the mind, and a horror to the conscience, suppressing reason, and inciting rage; a worse passion than phrensy, a greater plague than madness. Are the gods just? Then let them revenge such. brutish cruelty! My innocent babe I have drowned in the seas; my loving wife I have slain with slanderous suspicion; my trusty friend I have sought to betray, and yet the gods. are slack to plague such offences. Ah, unjust Apollo, Pandosto is the man that hath committed the fault: why should Garinter, seely child, abide the pain? Well, since the gods. mean to prolong my days, to increase my dolour, I will offer my guilty blood a sacrifice to those sackless souls, whose lives. are lost by my rigorous folly."

2

3

And with that he reached at a rapier, to have murdered himself, but his peers being present, stayed him from such a bloody act: persuading him to think, that the commonwealth consisted on his safety, and that those sheep could not but perish that wanted a shepherd; wishing that if he would not live for himself, yet he should have care of his subjects, and to put such fancies out of his mind, since in sores past help, salves do not heal, but hurt: and in things past cure, care is a corrosive. With these and such like persuasions the king was overcome, and began somewhat to quiet his mind: so that as soon as he could go abroad, he caused his wife to be embalmed, and wrapped in lead with her young son Garinter; erecting a rich and famous sepulchre, wherein he entombed them both, making such solemn obsequies at her funeral, as all Bohemia might perceive he did greatly repent him of his forepassed folly: causing this epitaph to be engraven on her tomb in letters of gold:

ЯТНЕ ЕРІТАРН.

Here lies entombed Bellaria fair, Falsely accused to be unchaste: Cleared by Apollo's sacred doom, Yet slain by jealousy at last. Whate'er thou be that passest by,

Curse him that caused this Queen to die.

This epitaph being engraven, Pandosto would once a day repair to the tomb, and there with watery plaints bewail his misfortune; coveting no other companion but sorrow, nor no other harmony but repentance. But leaving him to his dolorous passions, at last let us come to show the tragical discourse of the young infant.

Who being tossed with wind and wave, floated two whole days without succour, ready at every puff to be drowned in the sea, till at last the tempest ceased, and the little boat was driven with the tide into the coast of Sicilia, where, sticking upon the sands, it rested. Fortune, minding to be wanton, willing to show that as she hath wrinkles on her brows, so she hath dimples in her cheeks; thought after so many sour looks, to lend a feigned smile, and after a puffing storm, to bring a pretty calm: she began thus to dally. It fortuned a poor mercenary shepherd, that dwelled in Sicilia, who got his living by other men's flocks, missed one of his sheep, and thinking it had strayed into the covert, that was hard by, sought very diligently to find that which he could not see, fearing either that the wolves or eagles had undone him, for he was so poor, as a sheep was half his substance, wandered down towards the sea cliffs, to see if perchance the sheep was browsing on the sea ivy, whereon they greatly do feed, but

2 Seely, innocent. See Note 1, p. 51.

3 Suckless, innocent, peaceable. From First English "sacleás," free, from "sacu," strife.

not finding her there, as he was ready to return to his flock, he heard a child cry: but knowing there was no house near, he thought he had mistaken the sound, and that it was the bleating of his sheep. Wherefore looking more narrowly, as he cast his eye to the sea, he spied a little boat, from whence as he attentively listened, he might hear the cry to come. Standing a good while in amazement, at last he went to the shore, and wading to the boat, as he looked in, he saw the little babe lying all alone, ready to die for hunger and cold, wrapped in a mantle of scarlet, richly embroidered with gold, and having a chain about the neck.

The shepherd, who before had never seen so fair a babe, nor so rich jewels, thought assuredly, that it was some little god, and began with great devotion to knock on his breast. The babe, who writhed with the head, to seek for the pap, began again to cry afresh, whereby the poor man knew that it was a child, which by some sinister means was driven thither by distress of weather; marvelling how such a seely infant, which, by the mantle and the chain, could not be but born of noble parentage, should be so hardly crossed with deadly mishap. The poor shepherd perplexed thus with divers thoughts, took pity of the child, and determined with himself to carry it to the king, that there it might be brought up according to the worthiness of birth; for his ability could not afford to foster it, though his good mind was willing to further it. Taking therefore the child in his arms, as he folded the mantle together, the better to defend it from cold, there fell down at his foot a very fair and rich purse, wherein he found a great sum of gold: which sight so revived the shepherd's spirits, as he was greatly ravished with joy, and daunted with fear; joyful to see such a sum in his power, and fearful if it should be known, that it might breed his further danger. Necessity wished him at the least to retain the gold, though he would not keep the child: the simplicity of his conscience scared him from such deceitful bribery. Thus was the poor man perplexed with a doubtful dilemma, until at last the covetousness of the coin overcame him for what will not the greedy desire of gold cause a man to do? So that he was resolved in himself to foster the child, and with the sum to relieve his want. Resting thus resolute in this point he left seeking of his sheep, and as covertly and secretly as he could, went by a bye way to his house, lest any of his neighbours should perceive his carriage. As soon as he was got home, entering in at the door, the child began to cry, which his wife hearing, and seeing her husband with a young babe in his arms, began to be somewhat jealous, yet marvelling that her husband should be so wanton abroad, since he was so quiet at home: but as women are naturally given to believe the worst, so his wife thinking it was some bastard: began to crow against her good man, and taking up a cudgel (for the most master went breechless) swore solemnly that she would make clubs trumps, if he brought any bastard brat within her doors. The good man, seeing his wife in her majesty with her mace in her hand, thought it was time to bow for fear of blows, and desired her to be quiet, for there was none such matter; but if she could hold her peace, they were made for ever. And with that he told her the whole matter, how he had found the child in a little boat, without any succour, wrapped in that costly mantle, and having that rich chain about the neck: but at last when he shewed her the purse full of gold, she began to simper something sweetly, and taking her husband about the neck, kissed him after her homely fashion: saying that she hoped God had seen their want, and now meant to relieve their poverty, and seeing they could get no children, had sent them this little babe to be their heir. "Take heed in any case,"

quoth the shepherd, "that you be secret, and blab it not out

when you meet with your gossips, for if you do, we are like not only to lose the gold and jewels, but our other goods and lives." "6 Tush," quoth his wife, "profit is a good hatch before the door: fear not, I have other things to talk of than of this; but I pray you let us lay up the money surely, and the jewels, least by any mishap it be spied."

After that they had set all things in order, the shepherd went to his sheep with a merry note, and the good wife learned to sing lullaby at home with her young babe, wrapping it in a homely blanket instead of a rich mantle; nourishing it so cleanly and carefully as it began to be a jolly girl, in so much that they began both of them to be very fond of it, seeing, as it waxed in age, so it increased in beauty. The shepherd, every night at his coming home, would sing and dance it on his knee, and prattle, that in a short time it began to speak, and call him dad, and her mam. At last when it grew to ripe years, that it was about seven years old, the shepherd left keeping of other men's sheep, and with the money he found in the purse, he bought him the lease of a pretty farm, and got a small flock of sheep, which when Fawnia (for so they named the child) came to the age of ten years, he set her to keep, and she with such diligence performed her charge as the sheep prospered marvellously under her hand. Fawnia thought Porrus had been her father, and Mopsa her mother (for so was the shepherd and his wife called), honoured and obeyed them with such reverence, that all the neighbours praised the dutiful obedience of the child. Porrus grew in a short time to be a man of some wealth and credit; for Fortune so favoured him in having no charge but Fawnia, that he began to purchase land, intending after his death to give it to his daughter; so that divers rich farmers' sons came as wooers to his house: for Fawnia was something cleanly attired, being of such singular beauty and excellent wit, that whosoever saw her, would have thought she had been some heavenly nymph, and not a mortal creature in so much, that when she came to the age of sixteen years, she so increased with exquisite perfection both of body and mind. as her natural disposition did betray that she was born of some high parentage. But the people thinking she was daughter to the shepherd Porrus, rested only amazed at her beauty and wit; yea, she won such favour and commendations in every man's eye, as her beauty was not only praised in the country, but also spoken of in the court: yet such was her submissive modesty, that although her praise daily increased, her mind was no whit puffed up with pride, but humbled herself as became a country maid and the daughter of a poor shepherd. Every day she went forth with her sheep to the field, keeping them with such care and diligence, as all men thought she was very painful, defending her face from the heat of the sun with no other veil, but with a garland made of boughs and flowers; which attire became her so gallantly, as she seemed to be the goddess Flora herself for beauty.

Fortune, who all this while had showed a friendly face, began now to turn her back, and to show a lowering countenance, intending as she had given Fawnia a slender check, so she would give her a harder mate: to bring which to pass, she laid her train on this wise. Egistus had but one only son called Dorastus, about the age of twenty years: 4 prince so decked and adorned with the gifts of nature: so fraught with beauty and virtuous qualities, as not only his father joyed to have so good a son, and all his commons rejoiced that God had lent them such a noble prince to succeed in the kingdom. Egistus placing all his joy in the perfection of his son: seeing that he was now marriageable, sent ambassadors to the King of Denmark, to entreat a

marriage between him and his daughter, who willingly consenting, made answer, that the next spring, if it please Egistus with his son to come into Denmark, he doubted not but they should agree upon reasonable conditions. Egistus resting satisfied with this friendly answer, thought convenient in the meantime to break with his son: finding therefore on a day fit opportunity, he spake to him in these fatherly

terms:

"Dorastus, thy youth warneth me to prevent the worst, and mine age to provide the best. Opportunities neglected, are signs of folly actions measured by time, are seldom bitten with repentance: thou art young, and I old age hath taught me that which thy youth cannot yet conceive. I therefore will counsel thee as a father, hoping thou wilt obey as a child. Thou seest my white hairs are blossoms for the grave, and thy fresh colour fruit for time and fortune, so that it behoveth me to think how to die, and for thee to care how to live. My crown I must leave by death, and thou enjoy my kingdom by succession, wherein I hope thy virtue and prowess shall be such, as though my subjects want my person, yet they shall see in thee my perfection. That nothing either may fail to satisfy thy mind, or increase thy dignities: the only care I have is to see thee well married before I die, and thou become old."

Dorastus, who from his infancy, delighted rather to die with Mars in the Field than to dally with Venus in the Chamber, fearing to displease his father, and yet not willing to be wed, made him this reverent answer :

"Sir, there is no greater bond than duty, nor no straighter law than nature: disobedience in youth is often galled with despite in age. The command of the father ought to be a constraint to the child; so parents' wills are laws, so they pass not all laws: may it please your grace therefore to appoint whom I shall love. Rather than by denial I should be appeached of disobedience, I rest content to love, though it be the only thing I hate."

Egistus, hearing his son to fly so far from the mark, began to be somewhat choleric, and therefore made him this hasty

answer:

"What, Dorastus, canst thou not love? Cometh this cynical passion of prone desires or peevish frowardness? What, durst thou think thyself too good for all, or none good enough for thee? I tell thee, Dorastus, there is nothing sweeter than youth, nor swifter decreasing while it is increasing. Time past with folly may be repented, but not recalled. If thou marry in age, thy wife's fresh colours will breed in thee dead thoughts and suspicion, and thy white hairs her loathsomeness and sorrow. For Venus' affections are not fed with kingdoms, or treasures, but with youthful conceits and sweet amours. Vulcan was allotted to shake the tree, but Mars allowed to reap the fruit. Yield, Dorastus, to thy father's persuasions, which may prevent thy perils. I have chosen thee a wife, fair by nature, royal by birth, by virtues famous, learned by education and rich by possessions, so that it is hard to judge whether her bounty, or fortune, her beauty, or virtue be of greater force: I mean, Dorastus, Euphrania, daughter and heir to the King of Denmark.”

Egistus pausing here awhile, looking when his son should make him answer, and seeing that he stood still as one in a trance, he shook him up thus sharply:

"Well, Dorastus, take heed, the tree Alpya wasteth not with fire, but withereth with the dew: that which love nourisheth ret, perisheth with hate. If thou like Euphrania, thou breedest my content, and in loving her thou shalt have my love, otherwise "-and with that he flung from his son in a rage, leaving him a sorrowful man, in that he had by denial displeased his father, and half angry with himself that he

could not yield to that passion, whereto both reason and his father persuaded him. But see how fortune is plumed with time's feathers, and how she can minister strange causes to breed strange effects.

It happened not long after this that there was a meeting of all the farmers' daughters in Sicilia, whither Fawnia was also bidden as the mistress of the feast, who having attired herself in her best garments, went among the rest of her companions to the merry meeting: there spending the day in such homely pastimes as shepherds used. As the evening grew on, and their sports ceased, each taking their leave at other, Fawnia, desiring one of her companions to bear her company, went home by the flock, to see if they were well folded; and as they returned, it fortuned that Dorastus (who all that day had been hawking, and killed store of game) encountered by the way these two maids, and casting his eye suddenly on Fawnia, he was half afraid, fearing that with Acteon he had seen Diana; for he thought such exquisite perfection could not be found in any mortal creature. As thus he stood in a maze, one of his pages told him, that the maid with the garland on her head was Fawnia, the fair shepherd, whose beauty was so much talked of in the court. Dorastus, desirous to see if nature had adorned her mind with any inward qualities, as she had decked her body with outward shape, began to question with her whose daughter she was, of what age and how she had been trained up; who answered him with such modest reverence and sharpness of wit, that Dorastus thought her outward beauty was but a counterfeit to darken her inward qualities, wondering how so courtly behaviour could be found in so simple a cottage, and cursing fortune that had shadowed wit and beauty with such hard fortune. As thus he held her a long while with chat, beauty seeing him at discovert, thought not to lose the advantage, but struck him so deeply with an envenomed shaft, as he wholly lost his liberty, and became a slave to love, which before contemned love, glad now to gaze on a poor shepherd, who before refused the offer of a rich princess; for the perfection of Fawnia had so fired his fancy as he felt his mind greatly changed, and his affections altered, cursing love that had wrought such a change, and blaming the baseness of his mind, that would make such a choice. But thinking these were but passionate tones that might be thrust out at pleasure, to avoid the syren that enchanted him, he put spurs to his horse, and bade this fair shepherd farewell.

Fawnia, who all this while had marked the princely gesture of Dorastus, seeing his face so well featured, and each limb so perfectly framed, began greatly to praise his perfection, commending him so long, till she found herself faulty, and perceived if she waded but a little further she might slip over her shoes. She therefore, seeking to quench that fire which never was put out, went home, and feigning herself not well at ease, got her to bed, where, casting a thousand thoughts in her head, she could take no rest: for if she waked, she began to call to mind his beauty, and thinking to beguile such thoughts with sleep, she then dreamed of his perfection: pestered thus with these unacquainted passions, she passed the night as she could in short slumbers.

Dorastus, who all this while rode with a flea in his ear, could not by any means forget the sweet favour of Fawnia, but rested so bewitched with her wit and beauty, as he could take no rest. He felt fancy to give the assault, and his wounded mind ready to yield as vanquished: yet he began with divers considerations to suppress this frantic affection, calling to mind, that Fawnia was a shepherd, one not worthy to be looked at of a prince, much less to be loved of such a potentate; thinking what a discredit it were to himself, and what a grief it would be to his father; blaming Fortune and

accusing his own folly, that should be so fond as but once to cast a glance at such a country slut. As thus he was raging against himself, Love, fearing if she dallied long to lose her champion, stepped more nigh, and gave him such a fresh wound as it pierced him at the heart, that he was fain to yield, maugre his face,' and to forsake the company and get him to his chamber: where being solemnly set, he burst into these passionate terms:

"Ah, Dorastus, art thou alone? No, not alone, while thou art tired with these unacquainted passions. Yield to fancy thou canst not by thy father's counsel, but in a frenzy thou art by just destinies. Thy father were content if thou couldst love, and thou therefore discontent because thou dost love. O divine Love, feared of men because honoured of the gods, not to be suppressed by wisdom, because not to be comprehended by reason: without law, and therefore above all law. How now, Dorastus, why dost thou blaze that with praises, which thou hast cause to blaspheme with curses? Yet why should they curse Love that are in love? Blush, Dorastus, at thy fortune, thy choice, thy love: thy thoughts cannot be uttered without shame, nor thy affections without discredit. Ah, Fawnia, sweet Fawnia, thy beauty Fawnia! Shamest not thou, Dorastus, to name one unfit for thy birth, thy dignities, thy kingdoms? Die, Dorastus, Dorastus, die! Better hadst thou perish with high desires, than live in base thoughts. Yea, but beauty must be obeyed, because it is beauty, yet framed of the gods to feed the eye, not to fetter the heart. Ah, but he that striveth against Love, shooteth with them of Scyrum against the wind, and with the cockatrice pecketh against the steel. I will therefore obey, because I must obey. Fawnia, yea Fawnia shall be my fortune, in spite of fortune. The gods above disdain not to love women beneath. Phoebus liked Sybilla, Jupiter Io, and why not I then Fawnia? one something inferior to these in birth, but far superior to them in beauty, born to be a shepherd, but worthy to be a goddess. Ah, Dorastus, wilt thou so forget thyself as to suffer affection to suppress wisdom, and love to violate thine honour? How sour will thy choice be to thy father, sorrowful to thy subjects, to thy friends a grief, most gladsome to thy foes! Subdue, then, thy affections, and cease to love her whom thou couldst not love, unless blinded with too much love. Tush, I talk to the wind, and in seeking to prevent the causes, I further the effects. I will yet praise Fawnia; honour, yea, and love Fawnia, and at this day follow content, not counsel. Do, Dorastus, thou canst but repent!" And with that his page came into the chamber, whereupon he ceased from his complaints, hoping that time would wear out that which fortune had wrought. As thus he was pained, so poor Fawnia was diversely perplexed: for the next morning, getting up very early, she went to her sheep, thinking with hard labours to pass away her new conceived amours, beginning very busily to drive them to the field, and then to shift the folds. At last, wearied with toil, she sat her down, where, poor soul, she was more tried with fond affections: for love began to assault her, insomuch that as she sat upon the side of a hill, she began to accuse her own folly in these terms:

"Unfortunate Fawnia, and therefore unfortunate because, Fawnia, thy shepherd's hook showeth thy poor state, thy proud desires an aspiring mind: the one declareth thy want, the other thy pride. No bastard hawk must soar so high as the hobby, no fowl gaze against the sun but the eagle;

1 Maugre his face, though his face was set against it. Old French "maugré;" Latin "male gratum "

2 Hobby, French "hobereau," Falco subbuteo. The hobby in "hobby. horse" and the phrase "riding one's hobby" are related to a Danish word meaning a mare.

actions wrought against nature reap despite, and thoughts above fortune disdain. Fawnia, thou art a shepherd, daughter to poor Porrus: if thou rest content with this, thou art like to stand, if thou climb thou art sure to fall. The herb anita growing higher than six inches becometh a weed. Nilus flowing more than twelve cubits procureth a dearth. Daring affections that pass measure, are cut short by time or fortune: suppress then, Fawnia, those thoughts which thou mayest shame to express. But ah, Fawnia, love is a lord, who will command by power, and constrain by force. Dorastus, ah, Dorastus is the man I love, the worse is thy hap, and the less cause hast thou to hope. Will eagles catch at flies, will cedars stoop to brambles, or mighty princes look at such homely trulls? No, no, think this, Dorastus' disdain is greater than thy desire: he is a prince respecting his honour, thou a beggar's brat forgetting thy calling. Cease, then, not only to say, but to think to love Dorastus, and dissemble thy love, Fawnia, for better it were to die with grief, than to live with shame: yet in despite of love I will sigh, to see if I can sigh out love."

Fawnia, somewhat appeasing her griefs with these pithy persuasions, began after her wonted manner to walk about her sheep, and to keep them from straying into the corn, suppressing her affection with the due consideration of her base estate, and with the impossibilities of her love, thinking it were frenzy, not fancy, to covet that which the very destinies did deny her to obtain.

But Dorastus was more impatient in his passions; for love so fiercely assailed him, that neither company nor music could mitigate his martyrdom, but did rather far the more increase his malady: shame would not let him crave counsel in this case, nor fear of his father's displeasure reveal it to any secret friend; but he was fain to make a secretary of himself, and to participate his thoughts with his own troubled mind. Lingering thus awhile in doubtful suspense, at last stealing secretly from the court without either men or page, he went to see if he could espy Fawnia walking abroad in the field; but as one having a great deal more skill to retrieve the partridge with his spaniels than to hunt after such a strange prey, he sought, but was little the better: which cross luck drove him into a great choler, that he began to accuse Love and Fortune. But as he was ready to retire, he saw Fawnia sitting all alone under the side of a hill, making a garland of such homely flowers as the fields did afford. This sight so revived his spirits that he drew nigh, with more judgment to take a view of her singular perfection, which he found to be such as in that country attire she stained all the courtly dames of Sicilia. While thus he stood gazing with piercing looks on her surpassing beauty, Fawnia cast her eyes aside, and spied Dorastus, which sudden sight made the poor girl to blush, and to dye her crystal cheeks with a vermilion red; which gave her such a grace, as she seemed far more beautiful. And with that she rose up, saluting the prince with such modest curtseys, as he wondered how a country maid could afford such courtly behaviour. Dorastus, repaying her curtsey with a smiling countenance, began to parley with her in this

manner:

"Fair maid," quoth he, "either your want is great, or a shepherd's life very sweet, that your delight is in such country labours. I cannot conceive what pleasure you should take, unless you mean to imitate the nymphs, being yourself so like a nymph. To put me out of this doubt, show me what is to be commended in a shepherd's life, and what pleasures you have to countervail these drudging labours."

Fawnia with blushing face made him this ready answer: "Sir, what richer state than content, or what sweeter life than quiet? We shepherds are not born to honour, nor