University of Virginia Library

Whē Enuy blacke doth breed
within the boyling brest,
When rampynge rage of rancour rules
wheare reason it shulde rest:
Then will doth beare the swaye,
Wheare wyt shuld haue the waye.

Syth men of lyke estate,
and matches meat in myght,
Within one countrey dwellyng, seld
agree. Syth that despyte
Doothe dwell wyth famous men.
Syth wealth doth worke the woe,
And plenty placeth pryde oft tymes:
It is not straunge that so.
(Debate dyd grow betwene)
The Mandozzes and eke
Tolledoes famylyes:
Moste auncyent noble gentlemen,
and cheyfest lynes lykewyes
In all the prouince theare.
By worthy workes, theyr fame
Was blowen aboute. All Europe then
it dyd resound the same.
O noble region Spayne,
for frutes that fertyle soyle,
And happy with the golden mines
for which most men do toyle,
O Realme more riche when that
these houses did agree.
O happy soyles whearein such men
borne or brought vp they bee.
Of both these famylyes
ryght noble Gentlemen
There were, but yet the lusty Lord
Iohn of Mandossa then
Dyd farre excell them all
in euery exercyse:
Most valiant, most actyue, and
ryght polityke lyke wyse.
He was beloued muche,
of all the cōmons theare:
Accepted for hys courtesye,
with prynces euery wheare.
As Pallas paynted had,
his minde with lerned arte:
Euen so dame Nature then, in hym,
ryght well had wrought her parte.
His lymmes were fynely framd,
hys ioyntes so strongly knyt,
That as the Simphonye alwayes
doth please the cares: so it
The gasyng eyes of men
doth still delyght as muche.
No paynter for his portrature,
could pycture any suche.
The Grekishe paynter myght
an hundred graces theare
haue seene, which erst in sōdry shapes
he found not any wheare.
And as hys shape did shew
right semelie to the syght,
So for his force he was well knowne
to be a valiaunt knight.
In auncyent hystoryes,
his highe renowmed fame,
Aduaunced hath vnto the skyes
the glorye of his name.
By space of forty yeares
these famylyes betweene,
For sondry causes then
dissention great had beene.
All stoute of eyther parte,
they wolde in no wise beare
Wrong vnreuenged longe wherfore
small skirmishes there weare
Betwene them often times,
Alwaies when they might meate
With weapons drawne ye one, did vse
the other for to greate.
But once, with Armyes great
they met theyr myght to trye:
By dynt of swerd they wold discerne
theyr matters by and by,
And so, the youthly Lord
Mandossa then did beare
The rule, & charge as cheiftain stoute
of all hys armye theare.
Though to Minutyus
he might be matched well

The Captaines Oration to Souldiers Added by the Translatour.

For corage. Yet for counsell did
not Fabius hym excell.
When that his foes, he vewes,
in glistring armour dyght.
His soldiers in such sorte he doth
encorage then to fyght.
Behole my frendes, (sayth he)
the tyme approcheth neare.
This day, we must by māhode great,
withstand our enmyes heare
Our enemyes (sayth hee)
how simply they be guyded.
How rage rules them, & reason vs,
how well we be prouided.
Of armour good, and men,
though not so many as they
Yet such as do not fear, to spend
their blood I dare well saye.
Now, now, this tyme shall trye,
if such as we appeare,
We do acquyt our selues lyke men:
to fyght with lusty cheare.
Who wold not rather chuse,
to dye, then liue with shame?
As dastardes for to be despisd,
to lose the worthy fame,
Which with their blood before,
our auncestores haue wonne.
Shuld we faint hartes not folow thē
to do as they begonne?
What bondage is so vyle?
what yoke so hard to beare
As for to stoope vnto the foe
and styll to lyue in feare?
Our auncestours, with landes,
dyd leue vs lybertie.
Shuld we enthral our selues therfore
for feare and doubt to dye?
To beare the blot of blame
For euer in our name.

Who lookes to lyue so longe
in bondage for to bee?
Can stomakes stout, of manlike men
to seruyle yoke agree?
O happy death, that doth
exempt from miserye.
The noble Romayne Captaines dyd
not doubte for fame to dye.
Are we not able now,
to kepe the worthy fame,
that earst by blood was won: shal wāt
of courage lose the same?
What wolde our frendes say then,
and all the men that shall
Heare of the shame that shuld by cow
wardyse vpon vs fail?
No man theron wold pitye take,
But euery one wold vs forsake.

Our parentes dead, and shut
in happy feyl[illeg.]es, they will
For sorow sound into our eares,
a dreadfull howlyng styll.
Theyr sprightes will vs pursue,
all men will vs dispise.
For wante of manhode we shalbe
a gasing for their eyes.
The chyldren in the streates,
will pointe at you, and saye.
Loe there, the wretches which of late
by force weare dryuen awaye:
From heritages left,
to them so longe agoe.
By their forefathers olde. And they
lyke beastes haue lost it so,
No place there shall apeare,
from shame to hide vs in.
Wherfore at once let vs accompte
to dye or els to winne,
Be stoute. For if your courage quaile
Loe thē furthwt your force doth faile.

Tho stayne will neuer out,
it styckes vnto the stocke,
We must take hede therfore lest that
our shyp run on the rocke.
The losse of worldly wealthe,
which time may soone restore,
Is small. But honour beinge loste
is gone for euermore.
O men as deare to me
as fostred chyldren are,
Unto their nurce. For whō my blood
nor lyfe I will not spare,
Your wealthes is mine. And I
With you will lyue and dye.

Upon your manhodes now,
my state I do repose,
And for to winne your wealth, I will
not spare my lyfe to lose.
Now are you at a poynte
to dye or els to lyue,
Contented well with such a lot
as destnies vs shall gyue.
The Souldyers then aloude,
all with one voyce do crye.
Loe yours we are, thoughe prest we weare
a thousand deathes to die.
Then streight the trompets sownd
the banners be displaid.
And thundring captaines voyce doth cheare
such men as were afraid.
The foming Steades do stampe,
halfe mad to heare the sound
Of drommes, the blowes on harnesse ring,
& men that fall to ground.
Mandossa courseth them.
with charged staffe in hand.
No man could beare his blow so wel,
nor yet hys force withstand:
But downe to ground he goes,
or through his bodie slydes
The speare. And so without a foyle
no man his stroke abydes,
Then with his battell axe,
he doth so rudely greete
Them at the fyrst, that after, him
they had no lyst to meete.
His men, to marke that he
his life did hazard so.
their weried sprightes refresshed are
and forewarde they do go.
On euery syde, they laye
aboute them with such myght:
That boyling rage, win their brestes
renewes their force to fyght.
Then buckling by the eares,
the horsemens sheylds haue met,
Unto theyr tacle harde they stycke.
and fote to fote is set.
So valiantly they fought the feilde.
And euery one was loth to yeild.

The tops of speares then flye
about. And swerdes in twaine
Do clinke, such coūter buffes be lent
and paied so well againe.
Such noyse with horses, which
about the feild doe flinge,
Their maisters being slaine before
the feild it doth so ringe,
With dreadfull sound, as though,
into the burning flames
Of Aetna mount: flud Euphrates
had throwne his downward strames.
But to the purpose now.
Iohn of Mandozze had.
A sister, sure a lady good,
which for these thinges was sad.
And then vppon her knees
within her chamber fell,
And prayd to God contynuallye
that it myght please him well
To reconsile and make
these familyes agre,
That to theyr furyous attemptes
a better ende myght bee.
In mydst of all the fyght,
when slayne on euery syde
A nomber weare. And doubtfull still
the conquest dyd abyde:
She vowes. If vyctorie
her brother may obtayne.
To Rome she will a voyage goe
and come a fote againe.
So after cruell fyght,
(it chaunced thus that daye.
The Lord Mandossa conqueroure,
doth bringe the spoyles awaye.
Tolledes theyr force dyd faile
theyr blood abrode is spyld,
And driuē to take their legges, furthwith
they do forsake the feild.
The ladye Isabell,
hereof doth vnderstand,
And she her vowe declareth to,
her brother out of hand.
Which at the fyrst doth muse,
how she durst vndertake
On foote for his behoofe, so long
a voyage for to make.
And loth he is that shee,
should then aduenture so:
Through landes vnknowne, so perylous
a iourney for to go.
But shee vnportunate
her vowe for to fulfill:
Doth craue so much that he cōsents,
to gyue her his good will,
Uppon this charge that well,
prouided therunto
Of furniture: With ease she should,
by litle iourneys goe.
She takes her leaue of him.
he wills her well to fare,
And as his comforte so her health,
he biddeth her to care
Departed then from Spayne,
on Pirenees anon
She moūtes. Those hils being left behynd,
through Fraunce when she is gon,
And past the vtmost parte.
therof. As shee on hie
Beholdes the haughty Alpes hytis,
that reacht vnto the skye.
As she possessed had
the hyghest of them all:
Dispisyng then the cloudes benethe
and Cities seming small,
At last with dowenward eyes.
Right goodly she espies,

The Cytie Thurin fayre,
that noble famous towne:
The duke of Sauoy his ancient seate
whose wyfe had such renowne,
For bewtyes louely grace:
that euery wheare her fame
With worthy praise, had blown about
the glory of her name.
For as to Helen, shee
was matche for goodly grace:
Euen so her fame renoumed was
as much in euery place.
Dame Nature tried in her
the force of all her art,
I wrought by wōdrous worke, of her
appeared euerie part.
This Duches, syster was
vnto the puissant kynge
Of happy Ile, in Occean wyde,
whose sacred soyle doth bringe
In feild such valiunt men,
and doth with plenty greate,
Increase al things, which may for thē
in any wise be meate.
Deuided from the worlde,
a world alone it is:
Which of it selfe sufficientlye
hath all comodyties.
Norward, not farre beyond
the noble countrey France.
And Troian Brute his land it was
which stories olde aduance.
The spanish ladie now,
to Thurin glad doth goe,
To trie if fame the trueth hath tolde.
and then, it chaunced so
By fortunes fauour fayre,
that as she entred had
Into the Cytie, she espies
the Duchesse fayre, Iclad
With purple syne, whose glosse
doth glyster in her eyes.
As do the beames of Titans sonne
from hyghest of the skies,
So that she doubteth styll,
whether she should beholde
The ladye bright with beuties shine,
or her attyre with gould
So gorgeous and braue.
both do lykewyse delyght:
But yet the beames of beauty fayre
shyne clearer in her syght.
In Horselitter the Du-
chesse borne with Horses fayre,
Unto the feildes it pleaseth her
to ryde to take the ayre.
The Ladye Isabell,
when she perceiued that,
With fixed eyes beholding her
as one that wondred at
Some sight that seemed straunge:
she standeth still in staye.
The longer that she lookes, the more
she likes in her alwaye.
In mynde she doth commend,
the shape of her alone.
She surely thinkes, she neuer earst
did see so fayre a one.
She knowes her beautie now,
agreing to her fame.
And what she knows she cā not chuse
but needs must shewe the same.
The passing beauty, whiche
in her aboue all other
She vewes: makes her a matche to make
the better for her brother.
Whom much more deare then lyfe
(good Lady) she did loue.
And therfore to her companie,
(affection so did moue)
In Spanish tongue she speakes
aloud. If God (saith shee)
Wold grant, my brother might vnto
this Duchesse maried be:
Then might I well be bould,
(and trueth therin) to saye,
They were ye goodliest couple sure,
in Europe at this daye.
The Duchesse, which right well
did vnderstand the tonge,
Still passing forth, she marketh well
the company alonge,
All theare as they did stand:
fayning as though that then,
She did not vnderstand the speeche,
nor knew what she did meane.
But in her minde she thought,
as she did seme to be,
Some noble woman. And therfore
she biddes a Page, go see
Where shee will go to lodge:
and shewe her, how that I
Desire her for to go and see
my Castell by and by.
But as the Duchesse doth
walke by the riuers syde:
Wher siluer streams twixt medowes greene,
wt silent noyse do slyde.
She museth styll vpon
the wordes whych she before
Had herd. And then into her mynd
it runneth euermore.
So tost in troubled minde
she homeward hies in hast,
To talke with Lady Isabell.
and so she comes at laste
With quicke returde agayne
vnto her Castell, wheare
She fyndes the Ladye Isabell,
which taryed for her theare.
And so due reuerence
shee doth without delaye,
Unto the noble Duchesse, as
her better euery waye.
And she ryght courteouslie
Lykewyse doth entertaine
The stranger well: perceiuinge sone
that she came furthe of Spayne.
She of her fortune, and
her name enquyres also.
She asketh eke the cause wherfore
thys voyage she doth go.
When that the Duchesse knew
her byrth to be so great,
She dothe excuse her selfe forthwith,
that she with honour meate
Had not receyued her,
and putteth all the blame,
On ignoraunce of her estate
and place from whence she came,
Then after much good talke
of other matters so,
The noble Duchesse at the last
desyreth for to kno
Wherto the wordes earst of
her beauty there she spake.
And wherfore wt her brothers shape
she first that matche did make,
The shamefast Spaniard sayth,
(with blusshyng at the same:)
Whē that I sawe your beuty bright
agreinge to your fame,
I was so bolde, furthwith
in Spanysh speache to prayse
My brother: though he might haue bē
commended more alwayes
By mouth of other, for
because that I may seme,
As syster some what parciallie
his beautie to esteme.
Yet notwithstanding that
I do not doubt to saye,
(As they that know hym can report)
in Spaine this many a day,
There was not liuinge seene
A worthyer gentleman,
But as to prayse, your beauties. If
I haue offended than
Pardon I craue, because
I spake vnfaynedly
The same, with but agaynst ye troth
I could not yet denye,
Wherfore the Duchesse fayre
lest shee shuld faile to doe;
Her diligence, to further it
shee aunsweres ther vnto,
Madame, thoughe yet [illeg.]
you thus [illeg.]
I doubt not but by chaunge of place
your iudgement so it will
Be altered, For sure
I rather thanke that you,
In mynd your brothers beutie haue,
so well imprinted now,
That euerie shape, whiche is
presented to your eyes:
You measure to the perfect tipe,
and fourme of him likewise,
Madame, the Spainard saide
if I haue done amisse,
To make comparyson vnmeate:
yet beare with me for this.
Though it maye not became
his syster for to saie,
So muche, as truth of him might tell
yet sure thus muche, ye maye
Heare of his enemyes,
whiche ye beyond his grace,
Wyll saye he is the gentlest knyght,
that lyues in anye place.
The Duchesse, seyng her
so earnest for to be,
To prayse her brother. Therwithall
delyghted much is shee,
And so shee brynges her in,
and calles for supper sone,
Which beyng serued sumpteously
when all the cheare was done,
To honour her the more,
her wyll is so, that shee
Shall in her chamber with her selfe
that nyght well lodged be.
Wher as the pylgram then,
being wearye of her waye
Toke rest, and soundlye sleped styll
but styll the Duchesse laye,
With warres within her head:
as they that lyue in loue,
Nothing ye Spanyshe lord vnknown
myght from her mynd remoue.
She doth suppose, her selfe
this semely shape to see,
And well she lykes the fancye, which
doth shew him such to bee.
She doth cōmend his louely face:
And lyketh well hys goodly grace.

In loue she wotes not how,
Such force hath Cupide blynd,
A stranger she in darkenes doth
beholde within her mynd.
Supposyng semely shapes
somtyme so to agree:
That soone she saith (vnto her selfe)
euen such a one is hee:
And fayrer then the same,
if any fayrer be.
But at the last, of hym
such one she doth suppose:
That such a frend, she could right wil
contented be to chose.
In mynde, she doth compare
him, to the goodlyest knyght,
That euer she had seene before,
so fancye feades her syght.
That nyght she toke no rest,
but turninge to and fro,
On euery syde, vnquietly:
the night she spendeth so.
Eche beuty of the knyght,
conceyued in her hart,
Lyke poyson vile, increaseth flames
infecting euery part.
The daye, at last alofte
lyftes vp the lampe of lyght.
And Pheabus fayre vpon the earthe
doth cast his beames so bryght.
Then Ladye Isabell,
prouided to depart:
Doth of the Duchesse take her leaue,
which feleth at her hart
Such feruent flames of fyre,
such grypyng greifes, that then,
She wissheth, that she neuer had
the Spanysh Lady seene.
For syth she hath begonne:
Her worke must nedes be done.

She can not rule her rage,
her race begonne to stay,
Her fury doth enforce her furthe
for to kepe on her waye.
And so she could not rest,
vntill the Spanyard, she
Had promysed at her returne,
with her againe to be,
Then wisshing her good spede,
to God she leaues her so.
And whylest the Ladye Isabell,
furth on her waye doth goe:
The Duchesse styll doth seeke,
the meane, wherbye she maye
Suppresse her flames, & quenche the fire:
her furye for to staye.
But styll the more shee stryues,
more feruent is the fyre.
And as the greater hope remaynes:
the more is her desyre,
Within her tender brest,
suche force is of the flame:
That shee, good Duchesse, could not longe
endure to beare the same.
Her heauye harte so sore opprest
Did spoile her lymes of wonted rest.

So. After sundrye swarmes,
of thoughtes on euerie syde:
Upon the part of loue then dothe
the vyctorye abyde,
It is at such a poynt,
without the better chaunce,
The Duke her husbād (cuckold) may,
Unto the bornepype daunce.
And thus, at last shee doth
determyne for to take
Aduise her in: and Emblyn then,
her mayden for to make,
Of counsell ther vnto:
whom shee did know of ould,
So trust ye, that she doubted not
these secreates to vnfould,
To her, when she fyt time doth fyne,
She thus begins to breake her mind.

O Emilie, (sayth she)
it is well knowen to you:
If you haue fasten heede vnto,
My fashions are now,
Euen synce that fyrst, I did
From England came my waye,
Unto thafflycted myndes, I was
a refuge and a staye.
But destenies, they, now
such lot to me do gyue:
That I of councell neade as much,
as any one alyue
Sith worthye I haue none,
my mynd to vnderstand
But you: in you alone my fyrste,
and latest helpe doth stand.
This cause it doth import
no lesser thynge then this,
Whearon both lyfe, & honour lyeth
of suche a weyght it is.
And therfore this may tell,
That I dare trust you well.
She shewes furthwith, that she
was not in quyet sence,
The Spanysh Ladye Isabell
departed had from thence.
And so declares, that with
her brothers worthy prayse
My harte is wonne: so that within
my minde, his vertue staies.
And I can take no rest,
My wytes, on him alwaies
Be occupyed. Yet one
myght muse how it should be.
But I shall neuer liue in rest:
tyll I that Lord may see.
Thys sayd, she doth conclude,
that for no wanton will:
But for to vewe such semely shape,
therfore she longeth styll.
Then Emblin, which did loue
euen with her hart alwayes
The Duchesse, Piteing her cause,
with gentle wordes she prayes
Her for to staye a whyle,
and to resyst her gryfe:
And she within two dayes at most
for her will fynd relyfe.
The Duchesse glad therof,
requires her earnestly
To thynke theron, and promiseth
if good effect therby
Do come: to no vnthankfull one
She shuld perceiue that plesure done

And so, when Emblin had
approued many wayes.
Therfore. Unto the Duchesse, she
doth come within two daies,
And telleth her: that, if
thys meane may like her minde,
She neade not further seke, therfore
a fitter shyft to fynd.
And if that you wyll do this same:
Your enterprise of force must frame.

If you, furthwith will fayne
your selfe so sycke to be:
That euerye one more hope of death
then lyfe in you maye see,
In midst of all the sycknes, you
Ryght solemnlye may make a vowe:

That if you may furthwith,
recouer health againe,
Within a certayne time to goe
a voiage into Spaine,
Unto saynt Iames his shryne.
and frelye forward so,
With Ladye Isabell at her
retourne: you may well goe.
And then you may behould,
as longe as you shall please
The knyght which now hath ben the cause
of this your great vnease
But we alone shall haue
to much adde, I feare,
So fynelye in the brauest sort
to bringe about this geare
Wherfore if you thynke good
to ioyne the thyrde heareto,
One man I may commaund for me
all that he can to doe,
And this is maister Appian.
Your graces owne Phisician.

Herein I may be bould
to tell the truth to you,
He hath sought many sundry meanes
to winne my loue ere now,
He hath bene vexed sore,
longe tyme for loue of me:
And that in waye of honestie,
(as farre as I could see)
Of whom tyll now, I haue
accounted very small
For hetherto he hath receaued
almost no hope at all,
But if wyth flattryng eyes,
and chearfull lookes, I shall
Make much of hym, and sumtyme for
to kysse him ther wyth all:
I knowe his loue is suche,
he would not sticke for me,
To make an hasard of his lyfe,
if such a neade shuld be.
He is a wytty man,
and trimlye learnd also,
Estemed muche abroade, and maye,
do much heare in I kno.
The Duchesse, streyght as she,
doth vnderstand of this
Discourse: the polycye vnto
her mynd so fytt it is,
That ouer come with ioye,
the mayd she did embrace.
And said good wēch hereby, thou hast
hyghe and lost ye place
In my good will, and so,
you shall haue euermore.
By fayth of me a Pryncesse I
do promyse you therfore,
If that my purpose, now
take happilye successe,
I will no longer vse you as
an handmayden doubtlesse,
But I do rather mean,
a frend of you to make.
Of whō in doubtfull thinges alwaies
some comfort I may take.
For I assure my selfe,
as you haue shewed here in
Your gredie will, so may you styll
proceade as you begin,
And as a strong and stedfast staie
I shall accounte of yon alwaye.

Now am I satisfied,
by that: which you haue sayde,
So well, that I of any thinge
nead not to be afraide,
If fortune on our syde
may be. Now go thy waye,
To talke with thy Physician,
and I without delay,
Wyll lay me downe to rest,
and fayne disease, so well
That none may it perceiue, now gon
is Emblyn, for to tell
How that the Duchesse is,
diseased in her head:
And lately is layd downe to take
sume rest vppon her bedd,
The Duchesse doth deuyse
to haue a further payne.
Within her stomake sone she learnd,
such sycknes for to fayne.
She tourneth often tymes
about, to seke her ease,
And though she fayne it finelie: yet
shee feleth no disease.
She plunged is in paine
poore soule, for pleasures sake:
She meanes by greif so much to gain
as shall her sorowes slake.
Such [illeg.] haue women. Loe
such shyftes how they can make
When that they list full pretilye
theyr pleasures for to take,
So sycke as she appeares,
so hole is deade she is,
She semes so sad, and in so glad,
that none perceaueth this.
No one suspicious parte,
for to declare her mynde,
In all the tyme of that desease,
in her they could not fynde.
Full foure dayes thus she laye,
and semd to take no rest:
Although that with no painful greife
She felt her selfe opprest.
Yet lookynge like to die,
the liuelye ladye lyes,
Nor hope of health in her at all
that anye one espies.
Eche one bewayles her woe,
and sorowes for her greyfe:
Her selfe alone a refuge knowes
in sycknes to releife
Her hart. O colour fyne,
O craft ye cloked ioye.
Her sorowes such, her ease so much
such pleasaunt sweete [illeg.],
Well worth such witts, as [illeg.],
the way for to deuyse
A remedye for to recure
theyr carefull miseryes,
Well worth the ready braines
that euer haue in store
A shyft at nead, within a Bore
beare salue for euerye sore.
So symple as shee seeme,
so subtle as she is:
It is a wonder for to see
them so deceaud in this.
No man alyue could more,
dissemble in such case,
Her wordes so fytlie framd therfore,
that sure had the grace
For to be sycke, but now
hath Emblin begonne
To talke with maister Appian,
and thus at last hath donne
So much: that shee hath sett
him into louers trace
And then wt long discourse forthwith
she shewes the Duchesse case?
What furyous fyttes shee felt,
what panges she did abyde:
Tyll that this remedie, for her
at last shee did prouide.
And [illeg.] conclude,
she addeth this therto:
That if he kepe her counsell close
endeuouryng to doe,
His best to ayde her, then
she promyseth streight waie,
To be his wyfe. To wittnesse which,
she makes no more delaye,
But with her foulded armes
his necke she did imbrace,
And kyssed him ryght louinglye,
But Appian glade of grace,
Can skant such ioye sustaine,
thearwith more glad was he,
Then if that his Hipocrates,
or Galen he should see
From out theyr restfull graues,
for to haue rysen then,
To lead theyr lyues, as they had done
amonge the mydst of men.
He promysed, her then
in nothinge to denie,
While he should lyue, & so thearon
vp go they by and by,
Unto the Duchesse then
theyr purpose to begyn.
And to her chamber so
when they weare entred in,
He maie perceiue how shee
doth hardlye drawe her winde,
And for the suffocation of
her matryce, he doth fynde
Furthwyth, that she would haue
a stomoke very weake.
With dobled tongue wt in her mouth
full fayntlye she could speake,
He doth to them declare,
what daunger she is in:
With manie protestations
his tale he doth begine,
Fyrst biddinge euerie one
to drawe them selues asyde,
Whylst he by further talke may tell,
how she her selfe shall guide,
And so furth with they goe awaye,
And leaue hym there his mind to say.

Now that all these afayres
the better he myght hyde,
With him an od perfume he brought
the force wherof was tryed
To be so strange, that by
the smell thearof, strayght waye
The Duchesse in such fyttes lyke one
halfe dead, long tyme shee laye,
Tyll force thearof were gone,
and then to her agayne,
The [illeg.], and wonted hue,
it did fourthwith remaine.
The Duchesse, lyked that
so well: that in her minde
She thought all men cold not, for her
a fytter medcine fynd.
Amonge them three, then is
the matter handled so:
That through ye town ye comen brute
From mouthes of men doth go:
The Duchesse neades wyll dye.
the Duke doth vnderstand
Heareof, and sent for all the best
Phisicians out of hand
That were in Thurin then:
to this entent that they
Shuld looke to her, which being cum
Unto the Duke, strayght waye
Unto her chamber vp,
they all together goe
The Duke with them desires to here
how that his wife maye doe,
Whose colour in her face
was altered so much:
That shee appeared then as thoughe,
shee neuer had bene suche.
And they which her before had seene,
Might doubt if she the same had bene.

For why, of Appian [illeg.]
she tooke perfume before:
That of her health Phisycians,
Despayred euer more.
And so when all they had
consulted what they could
With maister Appian they doubt
what waye thearin they should
Take. And at last they come
the Duke vnto, and saie
Twere best, ye for her soule he should
prouyde the best he maye.
The Duke beyond all mesure,
aflycted then with greife:
Sendes for the byshopps suffragane
a man of Godlye life,
That he should her exhort
stedfast in fayth to be.
And of this father olde, furthwith
confessed then is she,
With voyce so faint (God knowes)
Her wordes were vttered
As though not of this world she were
she seemed then halfe dead.
Her piteous ruthfull lookes,
perswaded euerye one,
That from her senceles corps furthewith
the lyfe [illeg.] be gone.
Yet thankes be vnto God,
a faythfull soule was she:
She hopes, ere it be longe, in shrift
with spanishe Lord to be.
The Bishop in few wordes,
with her had quycklye done:
Her nature faylynge sure he thought
that death was comminge on.
The Duchesse gyues him thankes:
desyrynge that he will
Amonge his daylye orisons.
her soule remember still,
Then streyght the lustye Lordes
and Ladyes do cum in:
One doth be wayle her wofull case.
an other doth begin,
To gyue her counsell that
to dye she maye prouide,
And lykneth men vnto the flower,
that can not long abyde.
The Duchesse then begyns,
in frantike furyous fitts,
To beate her selfe, and taketh on
as shee had lost her wytts.
Amased thear with all,
as manye as are by
Do thinke, how ye her life will leaue
her corps imediatlye
One wyse amonge the rest,
Alowd to her doth crye:
O souerayne thinke on christ ye which
on crosse for vs did dye.
Another willeth her,
on other sayntes to call:
The noyse is great, but Emilie
which knowes her counsells all.
Saynt Iame (sayth she) from youthe,
you shorshypped alwaies.
To heare of him the duchesse streight
as in a traunce shee stayes,
She rules with vylage wan,
her deadlye downward eyes.
And tremblyng verye fynelye, then
with holow voyce shee cryes.
O gloryous Apostle,
whych me dydst helpe alwaye:
If by thy intercession,
my health this tyme I maye
Recouer well, to thee
due honour for to doe
Unto the place, whearas thy corps
is buryed wyll I goe.
When fayned prayers she,
had ended in this wyse,
To trie if shee can sleape a whyle,
she shut her heauye eyes,
And [illeg.] quyet rest,
she dyd contynew so:
Then euerye one therfore furth of
her chamber straight doth go,
Exept the Duke alone,
which could not go awaye:
But for his louyng spouse her health,
to God on hyghe doth praie.
Two howres then beyng past,
the Duchesse in her bed,
Doth stirre more liuelie then before:
and holdeth vp her head,
That one myght see she was
well eased of her payne.
With strength she casteth furthe her armes.
& plucks them in again.
The Duke her husbande then,
with liuely chearfull eye:
With heauie hue leninge besyde,
her head, she doth espye.
And then about his necke,
her heedles armes doth caste:
And kyssing him she sayd, good Lord,
three howres not fully past,
I thought I should haue left,
these ioyes and all with you,
But thankes to God, & eke the saynt
to whom I made my vow,
I fele my selfe, so well [illeg.]
amended for to be,
That if I ware not worse agayne,
I dare well warrant thee,
You shall not yet awhyle
be maryed anye more.
But whē ye Duke did heare the same
he was so glad therfore:
That then he had no power
to speake one word at all,
But marueylynge doth her behould
as one that had a fall
Downe from on hyghe, and styll
lyes gasyng on the ground,
Not knowing wheare he is, lyke one
that falleth in a sound,
This past, as sone as of
these newes the people knoe,
Reioysing, that the Duchesse fayre
was then amended so,
In theyr processions
to God great thankes they gyue,
As was their wōt. For wel they hope
the Duchesse now will lyue.
Eche one did wayle her woe,
and of her health to heare
Eche one was glad, within the court
theare [illeg.] was the cheare
They now begin to styrre,
whyche earst did sit still sad.
The Duchesse was so well beloued
that euery one was glad
To heare the newes and so,
the Duchesse takes suche heade.
That she recouered before
shee felt dysease in deade,
Then in her hart began
anoter kynd of playe.
That same dysease she could not help
by anye kynde of waye,
For Lord Mandozze then,
that fytt continewed so:
Untyll the Ladye Isabell
homeward returned fro
Her voyage, and forthwith
vnto the Duchesse came:
For that at her departinge thence,
she promysed the same.
So when with other talke,
the Duchesse fayre, and shee
Protested had, how thone was glad
the other for to see.
To tell her then at last,
the Duchesse doth not staye,
How that sore sycke she kept her hed
styll sence shee went awaye
Fro thence. Nor then shee doth
forget, to tell her how,
By grace of God & good Saint Iames,
to whom shee made her vow:
Her health thearby she hathe
recouered aganye.
If of the Duke her husband then
such leaue she may obtaine.
She should be hapye sure,
her vayage for to goe
In her good companye,
the Sapnyshe ladye so
Perswardes her for to doe,
and further doth declare,
The synguler momodyties
which in her contreie are.
How worthy gentle man
and Ladyes fayre and free,
At her Aryuall theare furthwith
will cum her grace to see:
All readie for to dee,
best seruyce that they can,
And so your companye sayth she:
shalbe much honour then
To me, in pleasant waye
how merye we maye be.
For to perswade her willyng mynd
[illeg.] she,
It [illeg.] not to byd
hym go, that runnes awaye,
It neadeth not by force to dryue
the horse that wold not staye.
Few wordes maye soone perswade
the iudge that is content:
Euen of his owne accorde vnto,
the case for to consent.
The Ladye Isabell,
perswadeth her to go,
And she had of longe tyme, before
be willyng therunto.
The Duchesse then dyd thynke
eche taryaunce longe alwaye,
And therfore to the Duke,
her husband on a daye
She sayth My Lord I thynke
ye knowe the greuous payne,
And martyrdome which I so longe
in sycknes dyd sustayne.
The vow also, I trowe
you haue not yet forgott.
Which for my health recouered,
I gladlye made, God wott,
And therfore me suche leue,
I pray you for to geue:

That out of hand I [illeg.]
dispache this voyage [illeg.]
Hauynge occasyon fytt by thys
great Ladye as ye know.
She wolde be glad I thynke,
that we myght go to gether.
And it myght be both for myne ease
and honour to go with her,
Thearto, the gentle Duke
ryght gladly dyd agree,
The treason, lodged long with in
her brest he coulde not see.
Prouisyon beyng made
for thinges, that they maye neade,
Lyke Pilgremes then I clothed, on
theyr Iourney they proceade,
With manie Ladies fayre,
and lustie gentlemen,
Syr Appian and Emelye
were not forgotten then,
Amonge the rest, so much
by trauayles great they do:
That past the frosen Alpes hyghe
they cummen are into
The cuntreye of Roswillon,
and entred in to Spayne:
The Duchesse seinge ye place so nigh
wherof she was so sayne,
She prayese the Ladye Isabell
That by the waye she wold not tell

[illeg.] she would be. And so,
in lytle iourneys they
Arryue, wheare as the lustie Lord,
Iohn yf Mandozze laye.
The Spanyshe Ladye prayes
the Duchesse then, that she
Maye sende to shew her brother that
arryued theare they be.
The Duchesse is content,
the messenger is gon,
And found the Lord Mandozze sone,
to whom he shewes anon.
How that the Duchesse is
euen now, arryued theare.
And tels ye questions: which betwene
her, and his syster weare:
And passynge beutye of
the Duchesse doth declare.
Mandozze then right gladly doth
hym selfe furthwith prepare,
With fortie or fyftie of
his worthyest gentlemen,
Ryght brauelye so appointed to
receaue the Duchesse then,
And in his mynde he thought,
no Pryncesse was so free
Or careles of her labour, in
that age and tyme; [illeg.]
A foote woulde vndertake
So great a voyage for to make.

But for sume other cause.
but what therof he maye
Conceaue, in mind right well he doth
dissemble that alwaye,
So on he rydes, tyll that
his syster doth espye,
Him from a farre in fyeldes, and so
she sheweth by and by
Unto the Duchesse how,
he which cōmes rydynge heare
Uppon a Genet whyte as snowe:
that is her brother deare.
The rest his subiectes are,
Mandozze comming nighe,
Thryse or foure times at least, he makes
his horse to mount on high,
And leape into the ayre,
with slynging feete aloft.
Or this syde turninge thrise about
on thother syde as oft,
His foote on ground being set
with comlie grace streightwaye,
When he had kyste the duchesse hand
Madame, then dyd he saye.
I thinke the wandring knightes
that lyued longe agoe,
And sought to wyn immortall fame
by valiaunt actes also,
If they had found suche hap,
admonge auentures great,
That wt suche worthie Pylgremes so
they might somtime haue met:
Theyr Speare and Harnes they
would soone haue layed syde
To beare your burdens in the waye,
your trauaill to a byde.
And then the Pryncesse, which
was well brought vp alwaye,
And lyued had in ease, and ioye
vntill that present daie,
Lest she for shamfast feare,
should fayle agayne to giue
Aunswere to him (My Lord) she saith
if knightes which erst dyd liue
Such as you saie they should
by greater blysse, haue mett.
With Pilgrimes such as we apeare:
we must neades hope, that yet.
The blessed saynt to whom
I made so solemne vow:
To honour whom I vndertake
this tedyous trauayle now,
Wold saue vs from the[illeg.] force
or els we should sustayne
These laboures great, in iourney long,
at last to lese our paine
And so, this fyrst attaynt
a waye to loue dyd make
More wide. Thē Lord Mandozze sone
her by the arme doth take:
And to his castell leades
her furthe, with softlye pace,
Denysyng talke not tedious
to her in anye case
He leades the Duchesse fayre,
Cupido blynd dothe leade
Them both. As they stil on their way
with tender feete doth tread,
The one, the other dothe
behoulde with fyxed eyes:
And both theyr hartes lyke loue doth hold
in frendlie hand likewise.
The poyson left behind
from loue, his leaden dart.

She sawe all beuties set
in him before her eyes,
More perfect portrature, she thought
no paynter could deuyse.
Though fancie partlye dye
perswade her thearunts,
She was not much deceaud, for why
the Italian storyes do
[illeg.] his worthye shape,
and further shew of hym,
How he did passe the Princes all,
which lyued in his tyme.
But when the Duchesse had
by outward gestures toulde
The secretes of her hart oft tymes:
and comfort neuer could
Receaue, to satesfie
her vncontented mynde:
And blamyng much within her hart
the knyght to be vnkynd,
Syth for her trauyle, shee
no better hyre could fynde,
When at his castell shee
three dayes had taryed so:
Therfore she doth determyne thence
next mornyng for to goe.
She meanes to gyue the flypp
so to deceaue the knyght.
And when Aurora had remoued
the darksum shades of nyght
When lyght of daunyng daye,
Had driuen ye goulden starres away.

The Duchesse goes vnto
the chaumber by and by,
Whearas the Ladie Isabell
within her bed did lye.
So takynge leaue of her,
she thankes her hartelye
Both for her entertainement theare
and all her courtesye,
The Duchesse now she is
departed with her trayne,
Mandozze vnder standes theareof
within and houre or twayne.
He looketh then about,
and sorye in his hart,
He museth much whearfore she shuld
so sudaynlye depart,
And take no leaue of him.
so troubled muche in minde,
Amōg a thousand thinges he thinkes
it harde the cause to fynde,
And thus so longe at last
he maruayleth theare at,
That his vnthankfullnes he knowes
te be the cause of that.
Upon him selfe be sees the blame
And is right sory for the same.

Sith she a Pryncesse great,
dyd cum so farre to see
Hym thē he cold not chuse but thinke
him selfe vnkinde to be,
For that to please her then
he was no redyer.
Nor yet his seruice franke and free
had neuer offred her,
Whearfore he takes with him
two of his men streyght waie.
And after her rydes furthe
in all the haste he maye,
At last vpon a Caulswaye, he
Espyes them in theyr waye to be.

A lyghted from his horse
he makes no more delaye,
But asketh of the Duchesse why
she went so sone a waye,
If at his castell then
she was dyspleased so.
That of her goynge thence she would
not suffer him to knoe,
He promiseth with all
his seruice true to doe:
If it maye please her so. He will
with her to Thurin goe.
He wyll not her forsake
for all the world besyde:
If that she will comaund him so
with her to go or ride.
And passing further he
in syghing sore doth saie:
O Ladie Duchesse, fortune had
done much for me that daie,
If when my syster made
the vow that she would goe
To Rome: I had of enemyes
furthwith bene conquerd thoe.
For then I myght haue had,
some hope agayn to bee
A conquerour on them lykewise,
and somtyme to be free.
But now vnto my selfe
subdued: I must remayne
A subiect euermore, exept
by you I get againe
Lost lybertye at last.
in you to saue or spyll
My life it lyeth. I haue no force
for to subdue my wyll.
Vnto your grace my selfe I yeld
on me your lyste full fyll,
You are the cause of all my care.
you may recure mine ill.
For now (Ahlas,) synce you
this contrey fyrst came in:
I felt such hard assault within
my hart for to begin,
That left me to resyst,
I haue no further might.
And vanquished it boteth not
[illeg.] man to fyght,
I wot not what to doe,
but to complayne my greif,
(For to bewaile my woes) to you
which maye my mynd releife,
And euer that which I
so hardlye could sustaine:
You would dessemble it, as though
you dyd not know my paine.
Oft tymes by sygnes, I did
to you declare my mynde,
And you so straunge therto alwaies
my meaninge would not fynd.
Far frō my thoughtes you semd to be
My woeful sighes you would not see.

And that the soner, so
my lyfe myght make an end
You left my house also to daie,
disdayninge for to spend
So lytle tyme, as for
to bid me well to fare.
And that doth greue my hart agayne,
renewynge all my care,
So, these maye you desyre
For to retourne with me:
And shewe me further courtesye,
or els that you maye see.
On mee, whyche you would more
vpon your foes requyre.
For cruell death, of this your [illeg.]yght
shall paye the woefull hyre,
And mournefull syghes, he drawes
from depest of hys brest:
To tessifye the passions
whearwith he was opprest,
And gentle teares from out
his eyes do fall a pace,
The lyuelye blood with collour fresh
dyd chaunge within his face.
So that he thought his soule
with greife opprest so sore:
Wold thē haue left his senceles corps,
the Duchesse now therfore,
Thoughe shamfast blood with in
her blushing cheakes: do stay her tunge.
her tale for to begyne:
The blood as red as rose
within her face so cleare,
(O beuties force) it did present,
a passyng louelye cheare.
With modestie deuine,
she rules her twyncklyng eyes,
And smokynge sighes ful sweete also
she castes vp to the skyes,
The crystall teares do fall:
From downe her face with all.

When reason had at last,
the woefull hand vndon,
Wh[illeg.] staied her tung with Angells voice
to speake she thus begon.
I do not know the cause,
whearfore you do pretend,
That I should gyue occasyon,
your youthfull dayes to end.
For if I knew my selfe
but cause of your anoy:
My lothed life, I could for greyfe
no longer tyme enioye.
Such care I Sould conceaue therby:
That I should muche desire to dye,

Assure your selfe therfore
that I would be your owne,
For all the world I would not this
to anie heare were knowne
Thē fainting feare quight fled awaie
She doubteth not furthwith to saye.

That flamynge fyre of loue
(Is kentled in her brest)
And she with how by nyght, or day,
for him she takes no rest,
If you one howre should fele,
such fyttes as I sustayne:
You myhht saith she, of crueltye
then with a cause complaine.
For sure your absence is
a verye death to mee,
And long (I know) I could not liue
without sum hope to see
You sone. Againe for this
to you I will confesse:
Long time ere now, I haue for you
endured in destresse.
It is vnpossyble
almost that I shuld lyue:
If fortune vnto me furthwith
sum comfort do not gyue.
But this I must needes saie:
that when at fyrst, I sawe
Your colde affection and desire,
such faynting force to drawe
Me to your mynd: I thought
the cause therof shuld be,
For sum oppinion ill, which you
conceyued had of me,
Or that perchaunce, you thought
(for sure it maye be so)
That I should seeme to lyberall,
myne honour to forgoe.
And that my countrey soyle,
I did therfore forsake
That of my selfe, a slaue I should
to your good graces make.
And [illeg.]lie for this cause
I tooke no leaue yf you:
Whēfrō your house I came, but yet
perceiuing playnlie, now
By this your heauie cheare,
that other wise I maye
Suppose therof: I do confesse
my fault. And you I praye
For to forget it and
at my returne, I shall
Sufficient satisfaction paye,
and make amendes for all
I will repent in place,
wheare as I haue offended.
And prysoner my hart with you
till all this be amended
I leaue. And thus the whilst
contented you must be,
And to your castell now retourne,
no further go with me.
The knyhht therto obayes,
her mynd for to fulfill:
But yet her beauties all within
his hart imprynted styll
He beares, a burden hoate,
with loue beynge sore opprest,
And hope prolonges his life, which he
doth leade in great vnrest,
Eche one the others hart
doth hould. And so lykewyse
The gestures of the one are styll
before the others eyes.
Now him we leaue, by hope
his fancyes for to feade,
And to the Duchesse now, which on
her voyage doth procead,
For fortune lyeth in watche
and doth her nettes prepare,
She spoyles them of their pleasures sone
& turnes theyr ioye to care.
So fortunes whele doth run,
and roull on euerye syde,
Still turneth fortune to and fro
she neuer doth abyde
Longe tyme in sure & stedfast staye
But shyftes her fycle feete alwaye.

When that with fayrest face,
she semeth for to smyle,
Then with Sirenes songe so sweete
she seketh to beguyle,
Whearfore all wyse men wyll
in wether fayre alwaye
Prouide their neadfull thinges agaynst
a stormy lowryng daye
To wyse men nothing cummes,
vnlooked for before
For all mishaps, the manlike mynd
is armed euermore.
This Duchesse led her lyfe
tyll nowe in blessed ioye,
And sone, together darksum cloudes
do cum to her anoye.
She is preuented now,
Mandozze hopes in vayne,
For fortune brekes the band, furthwt
of all theyr blisse intwaine,
She lowres on them on whom
erst frendlye she did smlye.
Theyr greedye mynde of pleasures swete
she doth furthwt beguile.
Not twelue dayes after that,
the lyuelye Duchesse, she
From Thurin did depart, the Duke
her husbane gan to be
Anoyed with absence longe
of her, whom he ryght deare
Did hould for feruent loue, which he
did euer to her beare,
And then consydering well,
that she was syster to
A kynge and how that her he left,
so longe awaie to goe:
Perceiuing this, that it
vpon her honour laye:
He maketh althinges meate, to be
prouided for his waye.
And well accompanyed
with store of gentlemen,
Without delaie he laketh shyp,
and into Galye then.
The sailes be full with wind,
through surgyng seas amaine
They skoure away, ye hillike waues
deuided so in twayne,
The wynd doth serue so well
vnto his will, that he
Ariued at saynt Iames his towne,
before the Duchesse she
Was cum. But so at last
he vnderstandes among
The Pilgremes theare, ye it belyke,
would not be verie longe,
Before shee came, for they
had left her then behinde:
By litle iourne is comming forth,
whearfore ryght glad in mynd,
The Duke furthwith doth send
sum of his gentlemen,
In hast to ride, and met with her,
so for to shew her then
The commynge of the Duke.
which when the Duchesse had
Ben tould by thē, she made as though
thearof she had bene glad,
But sure she could haue bene
contented well: that he
Shuld not haue taken halfe ye paines
to cum so farre to see,
In trauaile tedious
how well as shee had fared
His companie a while (God wots)
ryght well she might haue spared.

Thouhh then her fancye led.
her lust for to fullfyll.
Yet doth her reason teach her more
to esteme her honour styll,
And therfore fynelye, she
doth fayne alwayes to be
Desyrous with great diligence
her husband for to see,
Sū cheare to hī she nedes must make
Thoughe it be but for fashions sake.
So she to him furthwith,
with fayned speede doth goe,
And louelie lookes for him right fine,
she shaped had also,
Then after greting sweete
she pytieth his paine,
That he in danger great for her
such trauaile shuld sustayne,
And sorye in her minde,
(she sayth) she is, therfore,
But for Mandozze lustye knyght,
it greued her the more.
And so, in to the churche
together they be gon:
Whearas her praiers ended fyrst,
the Duchesse doth anon
Remember in her minde
her loues so lewdlye past
And winnes so much of wyll that she
repentyng, knowes at last
That God was much against
her enterpryses styll:
That shee the Duke vnfaithfullye
deceyued: should fulfill
Her lust. And sorow so,
doth synke within her brest,
That then within her heauye hart
furthwith she doth protest,
To flye her fylthy flame
and fufther to forgett,
Manduzze his graces all. And muche
she thanketh God, that yet
Her lust beyonde the bondes
of honour hath not gon,
And cleane to quenche her lothesome loue
she doth agree theron,
That so she wyll departe
from thence, euen out of hand,
Nor of this newes now will she let
Mandozze vnderstand,
She instantlye requyres,
her husband home to hast.
And so to shyps they go, and saile
so longe, till at the last
Marseille hauen they take:
anoyed of the seas,
And therfore then on horsebacke they
do ryde in better ease
To Thurin: wheare they lyued
to gether longe in ioye,
And perfect loue. But now, the lorde
Mandozze in anoye
Doth lyue, for absence of
the Duchesse all this while,
His harte abode with her, and he
dyd liue in longe exile.
But when he knew, how that
the Duke was commen thyther:
And how the Duchesse fayre, and hee
returned home to gether:
His greife he doth sustayne,
seynge no remedye:
He neades must now make vertue of
extreame necessitie,
Determininge to goe,
to Thurin her to see,
But now this while, ye all these thīgs
in such a state they bee,
The Alma[illeg.]anes latelye with
an armye huge they are,
Cum into fraunce, and so do spoyle,
the contrey euery wheare.

As sone as of the same,
the kynge doth vnderstand,
He sendeth to the noble Duke
of Sauoy, out of hande
With armye great of fraunce
to encounter with his foes,
But all thinges in good order set
at home before he goes
He doth appoynt for his
leiuetenaunt generall
The countye Pancalyer, to whom
thaffayres and charge of all
Hys Duchy he dothe leue,
that as hys selfe alwaye,
The Countie, in his absence they
should honour and obaye.
The Countie well was knowne
both noble and dyscreate:
And for to take the rule and charge
of cōmen wealthe most meate.
The noble men thearto agree:
The people well contented bee.

So when he seeth hym selfe,
to haue the charge alone
The contrey to dyspose and rule,
commaundyng euery one:
Yet markinge well oft tymes
the Duchesse beutye braue,
Can not cōmaund hys lust, the rule,
vpon hym selfe to haue.
He hath no force, to fyght
against his new desyre,
His flames do burne in broilīg brest,
he fryes in secrete fyre,
The more he sekes alwayes
for to withstand his ill:
The poyson strong so much the more
dothe rage and rancle styll.
That whyle he stryueth so
the smoke for to suppresse:
In greater flames the furyous fyre
doth more and more increase,
Reason dothe bid him rule
his rage, and to obaye
In absence of the Duke,
as ought a subiect true alwaye,
But fancye doth enforce
his follye to fulfyll.
So battayle in his brest begynnes,
betwext his wit and will,
But reason at the laste
is fayne to flye the fyeld.
His sences all subdued, is
constrayned for to yeld
Unto a Fortresse vyle,
he can resyste nomore.
But now with shame dothe seke the salue
for to recure his sore.
So that he doth forget
him selfe so muche, that he
Thearof doth make no conscience
to offer seruice free.
Unto the Duchesse: which
had vowd alwayes to lyue
Upryghtly. And therfore to him
a warnynge she doth gyue;
That from thencefurthe he be
aduysed better in
His cause, before he do presume
so bouldlye to begin
Unto vnlawfull loue,
A Pryncesse for to moue.

She byds him seeke abroade
Wheare as his matches bee:
To practise such conclusions
with them of his degree.
She chauseth much that be
of her so light should deeme:
To thinke that then her honour shee
so lytle should esteeme.
And shame to him, shee saide
that lyued all that whyle:
And yet a dotinge fole, could not
subdue affections vyle.
The Countie Pancalir
when this he dothe perceaue.
Was sum what blanke, so for ye tyme
of her he takes hys leue.
Yet hopynge still the best,
the fyrste denienge he
At womēs mouthes doth know right well
but words of course to be.
Wherfore wyth higher style,
he moues his cause agayne
Another tyme: when that at large
he pleades his case more playne.
Desyringe her to take
sum pitie on his greyfe,
Or els he can not longe sustayne,
to lead his lothsum lyfe.
He sayth, his sences fayle,
his meate doth not disgest:
His faynting lymmes haue lost their force
his bodie takes no rest.
For loue of her alone
and addeth thearunto,
That all his lymbes haue now forgot
theyr dutyes for to do.
As he dothe thus a whyle
his wofull case bewaile:
She asketh if his wittes alwith
his sences do not fayle:
A stronger salue she sekes
for his increasynge ill.
Sith ye her warning would not serue
but he continews still,
His syege: by hard Assault
to make a breache within
Her honoure: Of her chastitie,
the fort full stronge, to winne.
Countie, she saith Me thinke
the warninge which before
I gaue: myght haue perswaded you
to trouble me nomore,
These enter pryses rashe,
and will you styll pursue:
For gettinge how my lorde, the duke
hath heare aduaunced you.
Is this the Guerdon meate
which you to him restore?
And dyd he make you his
Lieuetenant now therfore,
That you vppon his bed
the rule also should take?
Is this the right discharge, which you
of that same credyt make.
Is this (I praye.) thallegeance due,
Or seruyce of a subiect true?

I promyse you, that if
you will not thus forgoe
These follyes. I will see that you
shalbe corrected so,
That subiectes from hence furthe
and traytours false, they shall
Therby exāple take. And thus
you maye be warnd for all.
What confydence (I praye)
myght make you now so bould:
That you to me so hardylye
so traytrous mynd vnfould:
Wax wyser from hence furthe,
to make your matche alwaye.
I am your princesse whom you ought
to honour and obaye:
The Countie skooled thus:
that lessen in his brayne
Imprinted is so well, that it
will neuer out agayne.
Disdaining much of her
to be refused so,
And countinge that the Duke therof
at his retourne should know,
His loue to deadlie spyte
is changed. He alwaye
Inuenteth sundrie meanes to bringe
the Duchesse to decaye.
And as he tosseth so
his mischeife in his mynd:
A polecye for him at last,
the Dyuells grace doth fynd.
He had a Nephue then,
not full nyntene years ould,
One of the brauest gentlemen,
In Thurin to behould
The Countye hauynge then
no children: he dyd take
This for his owne, and after him
his onelye heyre to make
So on a time to him
my Nephue he doth saye.
Thou knowest how that but me thou hast
no other helpe or staye.
And therfore for because,
that God hath geuen to me
No lawfull Issue now, myne heyre
I haue appoynted thee,
If thou canst haue the grace
to folow so my mynd:
Especiallye in thinges which you
may for your profyt fynde.
The ould vnlustie Duke
is now from home afarre,
And manie chaunginge chaunces still
do happen in the warre.
If he should chaunce to dye,
as doubtfull is his lyfe,
Tis possyble that you myght get
the Duchesse to your wife.
And so. God knowes how great
Aduauncement it myght be
To the. And ye wer wonne with ease
(as it appeares to me)
If that hearein, you would
my counsell well obey.
Thoughe to the poynt of maryage,
it maye not com strayght waye,
Yet sure, you shall not fayle
a frend of her therby.
To haue. By many sundrye thinges
ere this, I did espie:
She bare thee much good will
and neuer durste before
Let it besene. Wherfore do then
stycke stoutlye euermore
Hearto. And take the hap,
whatsoeuer it do cost:
Do what you can to please her styll
it is no labour lost.
Seke all the meanes ye maye,
To serue her euery waye.

And tyme shall teache you well
at last, the same to see:
Which youth & want of skill till now
hath hid alwayes from the.
This symple youthe beleues
his oncles wretched wyles.
The craftye Fowlers pype full sone
the selye byrde beguyles,
He thinkes that all is Gould
that glystreth to the eye.
The Tutcstone of experyence
he wantes the same to trye,
He dothe begin: about
the Duchesse, for to be
Alwaies. And shamfastlie by sygnes,
he mours her so to see:
How he with willynge mynde
To serue her was enclynde.

Whice when he had obserued,
a monthe or twayne lyke wyse:
The gentle Duchesse at the last
his dylygense espyes,
And honeste seruyce whyche
wyth earnest zeale, he had
Done her of late. And so therfore
the Duchesse, she was glad
To fauoure hym the more,
prefarrynge hym aboue
The other pages. And therto
his comlye grace doth moue
The more. Of wantonnes
proceaded not her loue.
For his good seruice don to her:
She dyd hym onelye so preferre.

But now the vncle false
none other thinge dothe he:
But longeth of the Duchesse styll
auenged for to be.
And thynkynge now for all,
at double or quyte to playe:
He calles his Nephue once agayne,
and in this sorte doth saye.
I see, that now thou art
the hapieste man alyue:
If you can take the lucky lot,
as fortune doth it geue,
Not onelye great good will,
the Duchesse beares to the:
But now with feruent loue, to syght
consumed much is she.
But wemen, (as ye see)
They sumwhat shamfast be.

They loue to be desyred
in secret place alwaie.
A certaine force doth please thē well.
as thoughe constrayned they
Do yeald, and graunt to that
whyche they ryght glad and fayne
Would offer: If a lytell shame
dyd them not still restraine.
Be hardie then sayth he,
this to beleue thearfore.
For I haue proued and found it true,
ryght often heare to fore,
And that before this time
tomorowe, thou shalt saie,
Thy selfe to be the happiest man,
that lyues on earth this daye.
And thearfore now I would
sumtime, ye should espye,
Unto the Duchesse chamber soone,
to goe ryght priuely.
Under her bed also,
thy selfe thear must thou hyde,
Tyll after mydnight past an howre
at least still to abyde.
And when she dothe begyn
in depest sleape to fall:
From vnderneath the bed,
aryse furthwith you shall,
And brauely commynge to
her bed, you shall declare
That loue dyd cause your comminge theare
& tell her who you are.
So be you sure of thys
what for her feruent loue,
And absence of the Duke so longe:
both these lykewyse wyll moue
Her, then in foulded armes
Most louynglye tembrace
The sone, & chear thy hart with ioyes
of louers sweete solace
The sely youth beleues
his vncles wordes streyght waye
Supposinge that the Duchesse might
perswade him so to say.
Him selfe dyd thinke no hurte
and therfore doubtes no yll,
And so his vncles traytrous mynd
furthwyth he doth fulfyll.
For then the Countye was
obayed as a kynge,
And honoured euen as the Duke
him selfe in euerye thinge.
Before that mydnyght came.
the traytour false in doubt,
Lest that his shamfull vylanye
myght be espyed out,
Thre of the counsell, with
sum of the garde also
He takes, and to the chamber of
the Duchesse streyght doth goe.
Wheare knockynge at the dore,
he willeth then to saye,
The Duke was cum and so, the dore
was opeded wyde straight waye.
With naked swerd in hand
the Countye rushethe in,
And ragynge lyke a man out of
his wittes he doth begin
To pray on euerye syde,
the chamber rounde about.
And so, from vnderneath the bed
at last he pluckethe out
His Nephue all amasd,
and tremblinge then for feare:
Lyke as the lambe which yet alyue
the rauenynge wolfe doth teare.
To whom denyeng power
one word at last to saye:
Hee thrustes him through ye throt & thē
wt dobled stripe, streghtway
He strykes hym in the brest,
that he myght quyckely lose
His breath, & be without the power,
his treason to desclose.
And now poore innocent,
vpon the ground he lyes
His limmes being stiffe, his striuing lyfe
dothe yeald to destinyes.

His blade with blood embrewe,
the Countye putteth in
His sheath againe. And thus dothe to
the counsellers begyn.
My frendes (sayth he) this same
was not fyrste tyme, that I
The wanton and vnhonest loue
betwene them dyd espye.
But now at last, I found
a tyme the truth to trye,
But yet this gloton heare, I made
to fayre a death to dye.
For his desert requyres,
by rygour of the lawe:
That horses wyld, in quarters shuld,
his traytrous bodye drawe.
As for my Ladye heare,
the Duchesse, at this tyme
I leaue. I can no punyshment
determyne for her cryme.
You know the customes ould
of Sauoye, do requyre:
That Ladyes of adulterye
conuicted should in fyre
Be burnyd quycke, if they
Within a yeare and daye,

Fynd not a Champion, which
in theyr behalfe will fyght
The Combate: by his force in feyld
for to defend their ryght.
But for the allegeance of
my dutye, which I owe
Unto my Lorde the Duke, I wyll
by letters let him knowe
Heareof. And so, the while,
the Duchess shall remayne
Within her chaumber close, & haue
with her one mayde or twayne.

The Duchesse knowes her selfe
now faultles for to be.
And is in minde, amased muche
so great outrage to see.
But well the treason of
The Countye she espyes.
And lokynge on her pages corps
with piteous wepynge eyes,
Wyth sygheng sundrye tymes,
O gyltles soule (saith she)
Which heare this lyueles corse hast left
now thou dost playnlie see.
The wyckednes of hym,
Which made the thus to dye.
And hauinge made an end vnto
her mone, and mornefull crye
She wringes her armes for woe
and doth desyre: that they
Would let the corse in semlye graue
be buryed strayght waye.
For he hath not deserued,
to hange on gibet hye:
And to be meat for bestes, or byrdes,
which in the ayre do flye,
She sayth. And so her mynde,
the counsellers fullfyll,
Misdeaming in theyr mindes ye more
because that she did still.
Excuse the giltles page
of that offence alwaie,
And for to purge her selfe
nothing at all doth saie,
The wofull chaunce full sone
is blowne about the cyttie.
And of the gentle Duchesse, then
not one but taketh pytye,
Exept the Countie fyerce,
in myschefe hardned so:
That he could neuer bend, but styll
is workinge of her woe,
Fame with these newes continually
Full fast, alwayes doth further flye

Suche murmuring amonge
the people doth aryse,
As though the towne weare then subdeud
to spoyle of ennemies.
And many of them wolde
with ryght good will, agree
That on them and theyr children thē
her punyshment should bee:
In thys condysyon that,
the Duchesse myght go free.
The County Pancalier
dyd nothing all this daye,
But made the accusacyons fayne
that all the councell maye,
Set to theyr seales furthwyth,
all whych in order done,
He sendes two postes in hast thearwt,
and into England one,
To shew the kynge her brother,
And to the Duke the other.
Is gon. And both theyr charge
full soone presented haue,
The brother, and the husband both,
they easelye credyte gaue
Thearto. And cheyfly they
perswaded are thearby:
Because the Uncle so had made
hys Nephew for to dye,
Whych should haue bene his heyre,
without some haynous misse
And so the Countie his faithfulnes
they much commend in this:
That to his blood he dyd
no whyt forgeue or spare,
To testefye the faythfulnes
that to his prynce he bare.
So fynely for a tyme,
Hys crafte did cloke the cryme.

Though suche offence a whyle
may vnder asshes lye,
Yet treason wil sumtime be knowne
and time the trueth shall try.
What worser foe, then he
whych euer doth deceyue,
Pretendyng frendshyp, so that one
may hardly hym perceyue,
Thys traytrous tyrant heare,
appearinge for to be.
A Iudge most iust in mischeyfe nowe
commended muche is he,
It is the most pernycyous ill:
In vertues shape deceauyng styll.

The kynges of England, and
of Fraunce, at last agree,
In fauour of the Duke: the lawe
and custome kepte shalbee
Uppon the Duchesse iust,
to the ende all Ladyes might
Example take thearby, whiche ought
to soyne lyke lampes of lyght
In vertues fayre, to others:
vnlawfull lustes to leaue.
And by hys post agayne, that tyme,
the Countie doth receaue
A ryche and costly swerd,
and harneys exellent:
Whyche hym to gratyfye wythall,
the kynge of England sent.
The Duke of Sauoye stayes
hys post a whyle, because
The matter toucheth him so neare:
he takes the longer pause.
But at the last, he is
resolued here vnto,
He wrytes vnto his councell that
on payne of lyfe: they do
Ryght streightly execute
the statutes on his wyfe,
As her offence requyred then,
and not to spare her lyfe.
And to the Countie he
besydes, doth letters sende,
His truth well tryed, & seruice good
he highlye doth commende.
And promyseth to hym
due recompence to make.
The post aryued, the letters to
the counsell soone doth take.
And so: (the letter red)
they do forthwith agree
Accordynge to the custome oulde:
a pyller theare shalbee
Of marble stone, set vp
within a feild theareby,
Wheareon the accusacion, must
be wrytten formallye:
Whiche when the Duchesse heares,
hauynge no companye
But with one Damsell yonge, & eke
her mayden Emelye:
All comfortlesse, wyth greife
on euery syde oppreste,
As trāticke, rentes her gouldē heare
and beating on her breste
With mortall syghes, shee doth
her lucklesse lot bewaile:
So that for sorowe so extreme,
her speache a while dyd fayle,
She ceased not of longe
her selfe for to torment,
the teares apace, ran downe her face.
her maydens do lament,
Her pyteous carefull case,
and euer (as they maye)
They do desyre her, that she wolde
take pacience alwaye.
And so at laste, she lyftes
her ioyned handes on hie:
Desyrynge God to looke vpon,
her, in that miserie.
With many prayers, she
desyreth him to sende
Some helpe her innocencye so
furthwith for to defende.
That she by such releife
her harte reuyued so:
May be released of her greife,
tryumphing of her foe.
Now wofull Emblin, which
the daunger great doth see,
And knowynge then assuredlye
her gyltlesse for to bee.
By wonted polycye
for her shee did prouyde,
And saieng, Madame neade requires
to laye your teares asyde,
And not to spend the tyme,
with childishe wepynge now:
All which can not amend your ill.
me thynkes it best for you
Sume comforte here to take.
and be of better cheare:
The sheyld of pacyence alwayes
against your foe to beare.
And now wt speade, sum kind of waie
To helpe your neade, let vs assaie.

Now serche within your minde,
Draw all your wits heare to.
The shifte whiche one could not out find
we all may chaunce to do.
This daunger may perswade
you corage for to take.
Now let vs see, what shyfte all wee
at such a pynch can make.
Assaie, if you can finde
the meanes, furthwith to sende
Good maister Appian, in haste
to goe, vnto your friend
The Lord Mandozze: whose,
so much renowmed fame
for force, aboue all knights of spaine.
aduaunced is his name.
And therfore I would wyshe
you for to wryte a letter
To him, in louing wordes, that hee,
may lyke of it the better.
For I knowe no man sure,
that would aduenture nowe
His life so straungelye: if that hee,
do not so much for you,
Consideringe, the prowes of
the Countie so is knowne:
ye soūdīg trump of fame, with praise
his name abroade hath blowne.
You wotte, how that he is
reported for to be,
Most valyant and couragious knight
[illeg.] Sauoye. Who but hee?
The Duchesse then, doth bid
her doe euen as shee will.
For I (sayth shee) am comfortlesse,
and hardned in myne ill.
To lyue or dye, to me,
the choyse dothe seme alone:
Sithe euery waye, my honoure thus
for euer more is gone,
How euer it be, no [illeg.] I see
Both ills do come alyke to mee.

Madame, saythe Emelye
let God therfore prouyde.
And let vs handle this so well,
that we be not espyed.
So Inke and paper, she
furthwyth to her doth brynge,
And sayth madame, let not your hart
fayle you in any thynge.
The Duchesse drawes asyde,
perusynge in her spryght
The longe dyscourse of all the loue,
betweene her and the knyght.
To whom in fourme, as foloweth,
her letter she dyd wryte.

My Lord Mandozze, I

The letter of the Duchesse, to Lord Mandozze.

wryte not on hope to haue
Suche remedye by this: that you,
m selye lyfe myght saue.
Nor feare of dreadfull deathe,
dothe moue me heare vnto.
The zeale of my good will to you,
doth make me thus to do.
The sorowes sonke within
my heauye harte, do now
Compell me to declare
my carefull case to you.
Thys stile so rude perchaunce
at fyrste, may make you muse
From whence the letters cum, but if
it please you to peruse
The same you shall perceiue
how that your louing friend:
(If you vouchsafe pore frēds to haue)
thys greetyng now doth send.
The same whych you sumtime,
a princesse glad did see:
A prisoner to shamefull death
condemned for to bee,
You scantly will beleue,
but yet I feele it so.
Though you (perchaunce) may much disdaine
a captyue for to kno.
Sith lucklesse starres enforce,
and [illeg.] doth permit
Thys same to be sith Fortune now
consenteth vnto it,
Contented, I must take
good corage vnto me,
Knowynge the graue, a fortresse and
a castell stronge to be,
Whearas agaynst such harde
assaultes, we saufely may
Take rest, and yet from fortūes force
defende our selues alwaye,
Whearfore with fyxed eyes,
I do behoulde the graue.
Alwayes the onely hope for helpe,
and comforte that I haue,
Thys onely fault, I do
in this my death espye:
That by the treason of my foe,
I am condemde to dye.
And thearfore thoughe theat by
desert I can not craue
Sum grace of you, though I can loke
no helpe of you to haue:
Yet will I now present
before your eyes, how I
Forsoke my contrey, whear so longe
I lyued dayntelye
In honour great, and ease,
to put my selfe vnto
So many peryls, as but fewe
of myne estate would doe,
Chaungyng my life which I,
before that tyme had styll
Enioyed in happy quietnes,
with pleasures at my wyll,
To take on me the attyre,
a Pylgryme pyld to be,
By hyls and dales, on foote to goe,
the wayes vnknowne to me,
For passynge feruent loue,
which I dyd beare to you,
Whom thē I had not sene, wherfore
me thinkes these same, may now
Your conscyence assault
so sore: that thys may make
Your gentell harte, on my ill lucke
sume pitie for to take,
For I, not onelie in
a paynfull prison lye,
But to a cruell Tyrantes power,
a subiect nowe am I.
And more then that, eche howre,
in daunger for to lose
My lyfe, which I full sone to do
with all my hart wolde chose:
Whearto I had my selfe,
aduaunced longe agoe,
(To haue rested in another lyfe.)
saue that by doynge so,
I should myne honour, lose,
and leaue vnto my name
An herytage of infamye,
for to dyscend with shame.
And therfore syth that loue
Doth beare wyth it no pryce,
Nor can not pay it selfe, excepte
the trybute do aryse
From other loue: yet paye
the auncyent frutes most due
Unto my loue: so shall I saye,
I found your promyse true.
So shall you paye, the hyre
Which frendshyp doth require.