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Prospera conservent Carolum tibi Fata Minorem;
Tu Britonum Carolus denique Magnus eris.

Tant des perfections Ie Chanteray sans cesse;
Oule Roy est Patron, la Reine est Patronesse.

About the Tongues when diuers with me wrangle,
And count our English but a mingle mangle,
I tell them, all are such; and in conclusion
Will grow so more by curse of first Confusion.
The Latine, Greeke, and Hebrew are not free;
Though what their borrow'd words are know not wee;
Because their neighbour tongues we neuer knew;
Nor what they keepe of old; nor what haue new:
But count that language good, which can expresse
The more of sense, in doubtfull speech the lesse;
How euer now disguis'd with noueltie,
Yet, framing all to prop'r Analogie;
For Prose and Poetrie hath words to spare,
And all that man can thinke-on can declare;
Will licence aske no more than others take,
And line as strong, and verse as nimble make.
Nor might we glorie more in sword than tongue,
But that we Trewants are, and stand not long
To file our Phrase: O all you Criticke blood;
Rude worke, and verse that was not blur'd a good,
Nor oft hath been with cunning singer scand,
Reproue and marke with peremptorie brand.
Yet iudge me not, as if I thought that I
Could mend the fault; but, what I can, to try,

I'le sing the Faire-One borne of Parents swart,
And her true Loue, and his that won her heart;
How each for other manifoldly crost
In warre and peace, at Sea and Land were lost;
Before they could in safetie set them downe,
Inioy their right, and weare th'Abissen Crowne:
And how Hydaspes, Queene Candaces sonne,
From Persian King Phile and Siene wonne.
Yet sometime tell I lesse, and often more,
Then read is in Greeke Prose of Heliodore:
That Poetrie may shorten Oratorie,
And with a Muses vaine improue the Storie.

O Branch of flowring Gold the best that growes
On face of Earth, consorted now with Rose
Both white and red; Sith Helicon is thine,
Me grant a sip of liquor Castaline;
That I in verse this Romant so endight,
As may thee and thy daintie Buds delight:
Thy rare endowments euer will I sing;
For Queene is Patronesse where Patron King.

Blacke-winged night flew to th'Antipodes
At sight of Morning Starre, and the Easterne seas
With-held the rising Beame, vntill it guilt
The top of trees, and turrets highest built.
Then armed Band of such as liue by spoile,
(A trade more old than iust) by seu'n-head Nile,
Began to proule; and clambring vp the steepes
Of Canopæan Outlet view'd the deepes.
But seeing nought there might giue hope of pray,
To neerest Strond looke backe; and thus it lay:
A ship unmann'd full-fraught as seem'd to view,
(For vp to th'vpper guyrt it water drew)
With Cable grosse is anchor'd fast to shore,
And ground there all about embrew'd with gore;
Yea strew'd with bodies wounded, some full dead,
Some mouing still, or leg, or hand, or head;
An argument of but-late-ended fight;
Yet warlike weapon lay there none in sight.
But luke-warme reliques of some dismall feast,
That had such end. The tables richly drest
Remaine yet standing some; and some are found
In dead mens hands, and ouerturn'd aground;
As vs'd for weapons at vnthought-on field;
And some the men thereunder seeme to shield.
The boules of gold from hand of some that drunke,
And some that meant to throw them, downeward sunke.
For sodaine broyle, neglecting proper parts,
Their boords their bucklers made, their pots their darts.
Here tumbleth one with ship-axe wounded sore;
Another brain'd with beach-stone found at shore;
A third his bones hath broke with woodden Mawle,
And some with blocks halfe-burnt are made to sprawle.
And others otherwise: the most were shot,
But knew not whence, with arrowes erring not.
So fight with feasting, sacrifice with slaughter,
And wine with blood was mixt, and grones with laughter.

Th'Ægyptian theeues beheld this from the Mount;
But knew not how it came: they see and count
A number slaine; who slew them they see none;
A conquest plaine; and yet no Victor knowen,
Nor spoile yet gather'd: though vnmann'd the ship,
Yet fraught with ware, and no man gan it strip.
As safe it seem'd there wauing all alone,
As if it were maintain'd with garrison.

Though case as yet they know not, downe they run,
For spoile and gaine, as they the day had won.
But comming neere the ship, and men so lying,
Much more agast they were, a Mayden spying
Of wondrous beautie, set vpon a rocke,
And Goddesse-like; bewailing yet rhe shocke
There late befall'n; but with so braue a sprite,
As nothing could her Princely minde affright.

With lawrell crown'd she was, and at her backe
Rich quiuer hung, her left arme falling slacke
With bow in hand, her right, with elbow bent,
And hand vpholding face, on knee she lent:
Her head not mouing, downeward glance her eyes
Vpon a Gallant that among them lies
Extremely wounded; yet as from a deepe
Began looke-up, as from a deadly sleepe;
Of manly beautie still, and purer white
Doe seeme his cheekes, for bloud on them allight.
His eyes opprest with paine to her drew shee;
Nor see he would, but only her to see.
Reuiu'd a little, straight he gan her greet,
And thus with feeble voice said; O my Sweet,
And art thou safe indeed, or made a part
Of this dayes slaught'r, and wilt not from me start?
Is this thy selfe aliue, or but thy ghost
Me still attends in this disaster'd coast?
In thee (quoth she) is all my loue of life;
Behold, (and shew'd him on her knee a knife)
This had I vs'd, if thou hadst deadly slept,
And saying so from off the rocke she leapt:

They daunted then with feare and admiration,
As strucke with lightning, sundrie in sundrie fashion
Them hide in shrubs; for more she seem'd diuine
Vpright now standing; so her garments shine
With glittering gould reflecting th'early Sun,
So clasht her arrowes like a sudden gun.
Her haire from vnder garland plaid vntide
With pleasant wind; yet all her backe did hide:
What now they saw done terrifi'd them more
(The cause vnknowen) than all was done before.

Some say 'tis Isis, Goddesse of the place;
But some, obseruing well her beauteous face,
Sweare 'tis Diana; some will wager ods
A Virgin Priestesse of their Heathen Gods;
Who, for reuenge of some vnlawfull trade,
(Not thinking on their owne) this slaughter made,
With holy rage inspir'd. But she forth stept
Vnto that wounded Gallant, wail'd and wept,
In diuers postures on the goarie ground;
Him kist, and cheer'd, and wip'd his euerie wound.
And, for his life, with much adoe repreeues it;
But, though she holds him fast, she scarce beleeues it:
Vnfained loue so reignes her heart th'rowout,
That of her ioy posseft she stands in doubt.

The theeues obseruing all, one t'other sed;
Is this a Goddesse part to kisse the dead
With such compassion? courage we, and goe
(What'ere it be) the certaine truth to know.
So getting heart, they forward went, and found
The Virgin busie about his sorest wound.
Yet all behinde her backe amazed stay,
And gazing on her nothing doe they fay:
But at their armours sound and shadowes sight
She rais'd her selfe, lookt backe, and nought affright,
Or at their vgly shape, or theeuish plight,
Bowes downe againe to cure her wounded Knight.
All other good, or bad so Love despises,
And only that is loues, to keepe deuises.

The Robbers passing by before her stand,
Attempting somewhat: she leant on her hand,
And seeing faces blacke and ghastly, said;
What would you haue that looke thus ill apaid?
If yee the ghosts been of the men here laine,
You doe vs wrong; for you your selues haue slaine
Each others all: or, in case any wee,
'Twas in defence of sacred chastitie.
But, if you liue, a theeuish life you lead,
And come in time to send vs to the dead,
Then make an end of all our miseries;
Lamenting so, downe by her Loue she lies.

They knew not what she spoke, and nothing speake;
But, seeing both so safe, because so weake,
Them leaue a while, and haste the ship to rifle,
And (all ware else accounting but a trifle,
Though much there was) with silke and precious stone,
And gold, and siluer, load them euery chone.
So much they had, they could desire no more,
And all they lay in seuerall packs a shore;
Not shared out by worth of things, but way'd
For equall portage; as for Youth and Maid,
They after thinke take order: but, behold,
Another troope of theeues, more strong and bold,
With Leaders two on horse, came on, and then
The former fled; for why? they were but ten,
And thirtie these: nor take the gold or gem,
For giuing th'other cause to follow them.
So twice is taken, yet not captiue she,
At least in minde, now well reuiu'd is he.
These theeues, though bent to spoile, a while forbeare,
In part to know the cause, in part for feare:
And all that slaughter thinke was done by those
That ran away: When they the Maid disclose,
In glistring habit strange, and not dismaid
With that befell; nor at their sight afraid;
But wholly bent the wounded Knight to cure,
And seeming all his griefe her selfe t'endure;
Her minde and beautie moue them wondrously,
And his long body there that lay her by.

At length comes he that chiefe was of the Crew,
Layes hand on her, and bids her come; she drew
(Though knowing not, but ghessing what he said)
The Knight with her, and he fast held the Maid;
To shew themselues vnwilling both to part;
And, more to signe, she set knife at her heart:
Whereby th'Ægyptian saw the Maid was loth
To liue without her loue; so tooke them both;
Withall, considering what good vse he may
haue of so braue a Youth another day;
Alights himselfe, and makes his Squire alight
And sets vp first the Lady, and then the Knight.
Commands the rest to take and bring the pray;
Saith only these should be his charge to day.

So runs them by on foot, and all the way
Doth him with left and her with right hand stay,
Lest either chance to fall: how these distrest
Yet rode in pompe! the Conquerour is prest
To serue the Captiue; beautie and noble state
Is able saluage heart of theefe to mate.

Now in this equipage a mile and more
They trauelled along the Mid-sea shore,
T'a hill-foot turne; at right hand leaue the Maine,
And ore the Mountaine passe t'a watrie plaine
On th'other side; a grassie fen in stile
Of Ægypt call'd; where th'ouer-flouds of Nile
Fall int'a Dale vnmeatly midward deepe,
Though nigh the banks to muddy fen it creepe.
This Stouer breeds, which some for pasture take,
And as the Marsh to Sea, is Fen to Lake.

Here all th'Ægyptian Robbers make their Fort,
And bastard Common-wealth hold aft'r a sort.
Some euer fishing seldome come off hatches,
Some walke the pasture six foot high on skatches.
If Islet any aboue the water peepe,
Some build a Lodge there; some in boat on Deepe
Both carried are and dwell, and only there
Their women serue them, and their children beare.
The new-borne babe with mothers milke at first,
Then with Sun-rosted fish and fowle is nurst:
And when he stronger growes, is tide by th'heele
With rope to ship, that out he cannot reele,
Nor stagger farre: what men else euer tri'd
So new deuice, with bonds the feet to guide?

Though Kings of Ægypt would this Fen haue drain'd,
These would not suffert't, thinking better gain'd,
With ease, some fish, or fowle, or flag, or reed,
Than with due care the grazing herds to feed.
Where now a Pike, well might they feed an Oxe;
Yea meat, drinke, cloth, haue from their bleating flocks.
Yet some they graze, and Herdmen are they call'd,
Though from all hand of Iustice water-wall'd.
A theeuish Fort, and thither still recoyle
The lawlesse Crew, and such as liue by spoyle.

Their wondrous store of Cane, that on the marge
Of this their Lake shoots-out both long and large,
For Bulwarke serues them; hauing cut some wayes
To them, not others knowen, with crooked bayes;
That from assaults and sudden ouertures,
As Labyrinth, their dwelling-place secures.
And more than lake-fish hungry maw to soule,
Fruit, herbe, and root they haue, and store of fowle.
The Swan both swimming there, and flying freely,
The loftie Sternet crying t'Ely, t'Ely,
Th'Ibis, Halcyon, Crane with tufted rump,
Storke, Shov'ler, Herneshaw, Bittour sounding Bumpe,
Coot, Red-shanke, Sea-mew, Teale, Di-dapping-Chucke,
Goose, Sea-pie, Moore-hen, Osprey, Widgen, Ducke:
I had almost forgot that most of all
Remarkabl'is, the bird that here we call
The Cormorant, Embleme of Penall Law,
With long, sharpe, hooked bill, edg'd like a saw,
To hold an Eele, but great one seldome takes,
These are the fowle that haunt the fenny Lakes.

Now, as the Sunne declining lower goes,
To th'eye of man he great'r and greater showes;
And farther makes to shoot forth on the ground
The shade of things, till all in darke be drown'd.
But ere the Set came Captaine theefe to Lake,
Where his prey-loden men him ouertake.

The Knight and Lady some of them dismount;
Some beare aboord the spoile; but see th'account
They of their Captaine made! the most him meet
That went not with him, and as King him greet.
And when they laid to heart the goodly pray,
And her diuine aspect, they thought that day
Their Complices, who care not what they lurch,
Had got the spoyle of some well-furnisht Church,
And brought away Shee-Priest, or Goddesse selfe,
In whose compare they count the rest but pelse.
So they the Master-theefe congratulate,
And to his home attend him all in state.

His home an Islet was, of all the best,
For him and his diuided from the rest:
He thither brought, with thanks commends their care,
And bids them come to morrow for their share.

They so dismist, short supper, but no feasts,
For him prepar'd is, and his two young guests:
Whom after supper (for they could not speake
His language yet) he gaue in charget'a Greeke,
That late was taken pris'ner, faire and young,
And had by this time learn'd th'Ægyptian tongue:
So might interpret for them; bids him cure
The wounded Knight, and keepe the Lady sure;
So, wearie and carefull, went to sleepe: but she,
Now of the Greeke they also lodged be,
In bed full hard by straight command alone,
When all were husht time finding fit to mone,
With many a deepe-set sigh, and showre of teares,
Thus unto Heau'n her piteous plaint arreares.

Apollo whom so carefully we serue,
Thou vs afflictest more than we deserue:
Is't not enough that we are diu'n from home,
Bereft of friends all ore the sea to rome;
By tempest tost, with roaring billowes shaken,
And, fearing worse than death, by pyrats taken;
But now at land (which most of all me greeues)
Are made a prey to first and second theeues?
What yet remaines? if death; so void of shame,
Content I am, and thereto will me frame;
Ere any get that of me, which I keepe
For one deserues it: he, not yet asleepe,
Her heard, and (Sweet) thou mayst bemoane thee said;
But not accuse the Gods: they must be prayd.
You warne me well, quoth she; but (pray) what rest?
The more (quoth he) since this young man me drest.
And more you shall haue, trust me, (quoth the Greeke)
To morrow morning such an herbe I seeke,
Where heretofore I often haue it found,
That after dressing thrice shall close your wound:
And maruell not that I should thus comply;
Your case is mine: you Greekes are, so am I.

A Greeke? (quoth they) and thereat much reioyce.
A Greeke, quoth he, both by my birth and voyce.
Thinke, after sorrow, hope there is of game.
Then, quoth Theagenes, but what's your name?
(He Cnemon said) Of whence? and how came here?
O aske no more, quoth he; too long it were
To tell, and matter sad; the night is deepe,
And after trauell you haue need of sleepe.
They instant are, and thinke it somewhat smothers
Their owne mis-haps, to heare the like of others.

Then he began; My father Aristippe
Athenian was, and, both by land and ship,
Of good estate; and when my mother di'd,
Thought much, for one sons sake, in world so wide
And full of change, to lead a widdow life;
But sets his minde to marrie a second wife.
So did, a handsome, but a cunning Dame
As euer liu'd; Demenet was her name.
She wrought my father soone to what she list,
And in his presence me full often kist.
I thought and tooke it as a token kinde
Of one that lou'd me with owne mothers minde:
But worse it was; and, when right well I konn'd it,
I hated it, and turn'd away, and shunn'd it.
Herewith enrag'd she turnes her loue to hate;
And one day, when my father came home late,
She faines her sicke a bed, and he bewailes her
(Good man) and askes her often times what ailes her.
Your goodly sonne (quoth she) whom (I protest)
I lou'd more than your selfe hath thus me drest.
For when some tokens were to him reueal'd,
That I was quicke with childe, which I conceal'd
From you, till all were sure; he watcht his time
Of your out-lying, and, besides the crime
I blush to tell, so sore hath punched mee,
As makes me lye in this poore case you see.

This hearing spoke he not a word; but all
Thought true she said; and when we met in hall,
He fiercely cufs me twice or thrice, and then
With rods me naked whips held by his men.
I knew not why; although by humane lawes
Should all, that are corrected, know the cause.
But, when his heat was ouer; Sir (quoth I)
That thus you beat me pray now tell me why.
But more enrag'd, O hypocrite, quoth he,
That would his foule deed now haue told by me!
So turn'd his face away, and in a fret
Made all the haste he could to Demenet.

She, not suffis'd, inuents this other slight;
Makes faine her maid to loue me, Thisbe hight;
Whom I before had woo'd, and could not win,
Now woo's she me, and I t'aduise begin:
She seekes, I flye; she flyes, I seeke her still;
Will she? I will not: will she not? I will.
At length she tels how Demenet abus'd me,
And was the cause why so my Father vs'd me;
Yet false to him; saith, if I would, I might
Her with th'Adulter take in bed this night.
Prouokes me to reuenge my selfe; and I
Beleeuing all, as not vnlike, apply
My selfe thereto: she came at night, and said;
The time is come; beleeue your faithfull Maid.
Your father's forth, th'Adulter new gone in;
Now, if you be a man, reuenge the sinne.
With weap'n in hand I force the chamber dore,
And finde my selfe deceiued by that whore;
My father there, with Demenet alone;
I Thisbe looke-for; but the queane was gone.
As thunder-strucke, then all amas'd I stand;
Then fals my sword out of my quaking hand,
Which she tooke-vp, that had contriu'd the plot;
And said (O husband) you beleeu'd me not,
When I you told that now so plaine appeares,
I pray deuise to rid vs of our feares.
No word he gaue, but me in prison cast;
And, when I thought to tell how all had past,
He would not heare me; but next day betimes
Accuses me of these so hainous crimes
Before the people: when I would haue spoke,
With question short thus doth a Clerke me choke:

Did you your fath'r assault with sword? I said,
I did, but heare you how; then all so bray'd
I was not heard, nor worthy thought to plead
Ought for my selfe. Some iudge I should be flead;
Some, cast int' Orcus-pit; and some with stones
To death would haue me batter'd flesh and bones.
As winter weather, be some friends of mine,
That wont to freeze in shade, and thaw in shine.
In all this hurly-burly still I crie
O, for my step-dame, thus vnheard I die.

They heard my words, and some what gan suspect;
Yet, so their hearing preiudice had checkt,
I might not speake: their voyces when they count,
T'a thousand and seu'n hundred full amount
The numb'r of those who me condemne to dye,
But diffring how; the rest vndiffringly,
In numb'ra thousand grant me banishment,
And they preuaile as most of one consent.

Thus was I cast from home; and Demenet
Not long enioy'd it: Heau'n aright will set
That men doe wry. But long it is to tell,
And you haue need of sleepe that are not well.
The night is spent; betake you to your rest.
So (quoth Theagenes) you more molest,
To leaue her wicked plot so practised,
And shew not how the wretch was punished.

Then Cnemon, heare then, sith it is your minde.
Soone after sentence there a ship I finde
For Ægin bound, where well I might abide
Among some kindred by my mothers side:
I went aboord, and safely there arriu'd,
Full merrily my time I spent vnwiu'd.
Let cleare and rainy dayes of all the yeare
Compared be, and more shall be the cleare;
But he that liues a whole yeare with a shrow,
More foule than faire dayes shall be sure to know.
Er long, at hau'n-side walking on a day,
As was my wont, I saw come-in a Cray;
Which while I marke well, what is brought and whom,
Er plancke lay fast, I saw leape out a groome,
Who came t'embrace me kindly, Charias hight,
And said, O Cnemon, now plucke vp thy sprite;
Good newes I bring thee; Demenet is dead,
And so, as well deseru'd her deu'lish head.
Thy father gan repent it, aft'r a while,
T'haue beene the cause of thine vniust exile;
And in his Countrey-village desolate
Selfe-fretting spent his time: but she gan hate
Herselfe and Thisbe, for her loues depart
(So thee she cals) and takes it so to heart,
That mad by fits she often threats her maid;
Who fear'd the worst, and thus preuenting said;
They say (forsooth) that Cnemon since his doome
Hath left the land; but he hath found a roome
To lurke in here, enquiring for your sake
This haue I learn'd; Arsinoe (I take
You know the Queane) she closely keepes him hid:
For this I tell you let me not be chid.
O happy she, quoth Demenet; but what
Is this to me? O mistresse, verie pat,
Repli'd the Maid; mine old acquaint is she,
And one whom I haue vs'd in that degree.
Ile say, I Cnemon loue, and pray, and pay,
That in her roome this night she will me lay.
And, if she grant, the turne shall not be mine,
But yours; and Ile him bring well soakt in wine.

The plot is lik'd, and hasted all they can;
But with Arsinoe turn'd cat in pan:
For vnto her the suttle Thisbe saith
She loves one Teledemus, and her pray'th;
Sweet, lodge vs both to night; he comes before;
And I when Dame a bed hath shut the dore.
Agreed she goes in haste to Aristippe,
And saith (Sir) I deserue more than the whip.
That you haue lost your sonne, not principall,
But instrument I was; your wiues at call:
Whom when I knew abuse your bed, I durst
Not tell to you, but vnto Cnemon first,
Her fault at night; he thought I said that night,
And start-vp suddenly with all his might;
Tooke sword in hand, and casting on his coat
Vnto your chamber went: the rest you wote.
But now forgiue m', and I will giue you light,
How to reuenge your sonne and you this night;
And take your wife in breach of Nuptialls,
Nor yet at home, nor yet within the walls.

Doe not (quoth he) from this thy proffer swerue,
But well performe't, thou shalt no longer serue;
Ile set thee free: it shall prolong my life
To be reueng'd of such a wicked wife.
I her suspected by some marks aloofe;
But thought it best be silent, wanting proofe.

You know (quoth she) the tombe of th'Epicures;
And garden where it stands; this part is yours;
Expect me there at Eu'n; so went her way
To Demenet, and thus vnt'her gan say:
Come, make you fine; for that I promised
Is ready for you: he will straight to bed.
So led her forth, and comming nigh the place,
Shee wils her Mistres stay, and went a space
Before, and pray'd Arsinoe withdraw
T'another house; for Teledem but raw,
And yet a Nouice vnto Cupids Queene,
Would blush at first of strangers to be seene.
Arsinoe departs, then Thisbe fet,
And laid in bed, her Mistres Demenet;
Put out the candl', and said, lest you should know her,
(Who then at Ægin were) and shut the dore:
Then for her Master went, and wisht him hold
Th'Adulter fast. He comes in Iealous bold,
And cries, O haue I caught thee wicked wretch!
Then Thisbe, as though some man thence made a breach,
Cries-out, th'adulter's gone, and clasht the dore.
No matter (wench, quoth he) sith here's the whore;
And fast her holding brought her thence; but shee
Bethinking what a shame it would her bee,
What punishment to her offence was due,
And, by the Law, without all helpe t'ensue;
And mad, that by her maid she was so mockt;
While people wondring all about her flockt,
(You know the deepe pit where our Leaders wont
Doe solemne Rites) when they came neere vpon't,
With struggling much she broke his hold at last,
And thereinto her selfe downe headlong cast.
So broke her necke (full oft conioyned be
Bad life, bad death) so my reuenge, quoth he,
Preuents the Law; and forthwith to the States
Her life and death, and all thy case relates;
Gets hardly pardon for himselfe, the while
His friends entreat to call thee from exile:
But done, or not, as yet I know no whether,
Faire wind and sudden businesse call'd me hether:
That all the people giue consent, no doubt;
And soone thy father will goe seeke thee out.

This Charias told me; but what else befell,
And here how came I, more time askes to tell.
Then he, and they for company, gan weepe;
And eas'd with teares together fell asleepe.

But Thyamis (th'arch Outlawes name was so)
Had rested well, till houshold Cocke gan crow,
As all by kinde (some say because they feele
The Sunne returning with his mid-night wheele,
And would salute him; some, for natures heat
So quicke-digesting, and desire of meat,
They call to worke the men with whom they dwell)
Then dreampt, and had a vision, thus befell;
He seem'd at Memphis entring Isis Fane,
That all th'rowout with fire-brands it shane,
That th'Altars were with sacrifice besprent,
That in the porch and all about there went
Men all in tumult raising hideous cries,
As hauing tooke the Temple by surprise;
That, comming neere the shrine, the Goddesse met him
With his faire prise in hand, and thus she gret him;
This Maid (O Thyam) I command thee saue her
From hurt; but know, thou hauing shalt not haue her.
Thou shalt a guest kill, though against my Law,
But she shall liue: this when he heard and saw,
His minde was troubled how to conster it;
And thus he made all for his purpose fit.
Haue and not haue, a wife, no more a maid:
But how then kill? O Hymen stab he said:
For many a virgin her virginitie
May wounded haue, and of the wound not die.

When Sun began t'enamell th'Easterne sand,
He calls him-to the chiefe of his command,
And bids the Spoyle (so by more noble name
He tearm'd the Prey, to keepe vntainted Fame)
Be laid before him; Cnemon eke he wils
Bring forth the prisners: O (quoth they) what ills
Yet more betide vs? and him weeping pray'd,
And he them promis'd, if he could, some aid;
And cheer'd them vp, and told them how their Chiefe
Ne bore the minde of rude and sauage thiefe;
But noble and gentle was to iust complaint,
And would not liue thus but vpon constraint.

When all were come, and Thyam set on high
To speake them-to, as wont he commonly,
He Cnemon bids, vnto that Youth and Maid,
Report, in Greeke, this he in Gypsie said.

My Fellow souldiours, being, as you wist,
The first-borne sonne of Memphis highest Priest,
And from my right kept by my younger brother,
I fled to you; and me before all other
You chose for Chiefe: and't hath beene since my care,
Of all we got, to take no more than share.
The captiue men of strength I gaue to you,
The weaker sold; and this y'all know is true,
The free-borne women ransom'd, or set free
For pittie sake, the seruile sort had yee:
This one whose habit shewes, and goodly port,
Her some Deuore, and therefore meet Consort
For Bishops sonne, though of my selfe I might
Her choose, and take by only Captaines right
(As well you know) yet her of you I craue,
To be my wife; you all the rest shall haue.

They all consent, he thanks, and further saith;
Then speake you Faire-one, doe me plight your faith;
To liue with me in lawfull marriage;
And tell your Countrey, and your parentage.

She cast her modest eyes vpon the ground,
And staid a while, as 'twere in thought profound
What should she say; then him with blushing cy'd,
And thus, as Cnemon did relate, repli'd.

My brother better speake here may, than I,
A Maid before so manly company;
But sith you giue me leaue, and chiefly me
Concernes the meeting, know (I pray) that he
Apollo's Priest is, and Diana's I,
Of noble parentage in Ionie.
Our Office ending ('twas but for a yeere,
And not hereditarie like yours here)
With solemne pompe (as holy custome prest)
For Delos sail'd we, there vs to diuest.
When ran at sea was halfe out course and more,
Began a storme, that cast vs here ashore:
And, at a feast made for our late escape,
The Mariners our goods thought all to rape.
On either side there slaine were all but wee,
In wofull case left, as you chanc'd to see:
Yet happy in this, we your hands-into fell,
Who grant both life and loue; which I like well;
This one thing crauing, to remaine a Maid
Till solemne diuesture, meane time with aid
You Memphis may recouer; where is best
(If you so please) both marry, and diuest.

They all approue; and staid is his desire
By her Sirenish song (though more afire)
And by his dreame; wherein he thought was noted
He should at Memphis marry this Deuoted:
So breakes the moot, and they with hand and heart
Him promise aid; and leaue the richest part
Of spoile for him; and he them bids prepare
The tenth day after to the war to fare.
And, for his guests, that nothing might offend them,
Full well prouides; and Cnemon wils attend them,
Not now as Keeper, but Interpreter;
Himselfe for bearing once to looke on her,
For feare of being tempted. Cnemon, when
They brought were in, went forth beyond the Fen
Among the bushes, where he knew was best
To seeke that herbe he promised his guest.

Meane-while Theagenes, to her no words,
But vnto Heau'n complaines; and she him boords,
Is this for old, or for some late euent?
Forgetting me (quoth he) sh'is now content
To marry another. God forbid, quoth shee;
My promise euer will I keepe with thee.
O doe not then so much encrease my griefe!
Before Theagenes I choose a theefe?
I spoke but to delay the danger nigh,
You sooner will (I feare) be false, than I.

Indeed (quoth he) I lik'd well that inuent
Of broth'r and sist'r, and how from home we went:
But O, when you, when you so plainly granted,
Appointing place and time, how was I danted!
She then embrac'd and kist him, shedding teares,
And said, O how delight me these your feares!
They proue you constant notwithstanding all
The miseries that daily on vs fall.
But sure, we had not thus conferr'd to day,
If I had much oppos'd, and not giu'n way.
A Louer rude will ne're be calme without
Some hope, and that may still him, ne're so stout.
So thought and did I, thus farre for the best;
Our loues protector Phœbus worke the rest!
And wisely must we handle this our plot,
That Cnemon, though our friend, perceiue it not:
Or, if he chance by circumstance suspect,
We must deny't, and let him but coniect.
Th'vntruth that speaker helpes, and nought at all
The hearer hurts, may well be borne withall.
Thus had she said, and Cnemon from the field
Came running in, and lookt as almost wilde;
And said; Theagenes, loe here is found
That herbe, which once laid-on will heale your wound.
I cannot stay, but come yee both with mee;
And, what the cause is, you shall quickly see.
But haste we must; that wasting time in words
We be not ouertaken here with swords:
So led them fast away to Thyamis;
And found him fellow-like, with many of his,
His armour scowring; Sir, then said, 'tis well
Y'are so prouiding; for ill newes I tell.
There comes vpon you troopes of armed men;
I thinke they are by this time neere the Fen;
Or not farre off; from yonder hill I spide them,
And, as I came, haue wisht your men prouide them.

The Captaine then began himselfe aduance,
And armed Capapee, with sword and lance,
Before he stept a foot forth on his way,
Tooke present order for Chariclia.

A Caue there was, hand-wrought by Gypsie-wit,
To hide their spoyle; it opened well and shut
With narrow doore of stone, that threshold was
T'an vpper roome; within, a Maze it has
Of sundrie wayes entangled (like the roots
Of thicke-set trees, amids and all abouts)
That meet in plaine; with scales of Crocodile
The roofe is pau'd, brought thither from the Nile,
On pillars short vpheld; to helpe the sight,
From top thereof descends a beame of light:

He Cnemon wills her take (but in his eare,
That what he said none other man might heare)
And lead, and safely place her in this Caue,
Where all his treasure lay, and bids him haue
A speciall care the mouth thereof to close,
As wont it be. With heauie heart she goes,
Still looking backe at her Theagenes
With Thyam left; and Cnemon, her to please,
Vpon the Caue before he laid the doore,
Her promised, to bring him safe vnto her;
And not to suff'r a yet-raw-wounded Knight,
To vent'r his life in such vntimely fight.

She answer'd not a word; but of her loue,
(As soule) bereft, did little breathe or moue:
Nor without teares departed he, to thinke
How faire a creature there he left at brinke
As 'twere of death; nay buried had aliue
That shining beautie might the world reuiue.

To Thyam then he ran; with whom he found
Theagen armed royally; and round
About them flocke the rest; first low, then tall,
For better sight and hearing. Fellowes all,
Then said the Chiefe, your life is all a warre;
Your trust and courage tri'd; the foe not farre:
T'encourage you nor need I, nor haue leasure:
Is't for our goodly citties, for our treasure;
Is't for our children, for our wealth or wiues,
They set vpon vs? no 'tis for our liues.
For such as liue by spoile, as they and we,
We fight not who shall reigne; but who shall be.
Then neuer yeeld we to this enemy;
But fight it out, and conquer him or dye.

Then call'd he for Thermutis, could not get him;
Which made him angrie, and for his absence threat him.
So ran to Ferrie; for he saw the fight
Was now began, and his some put to flight,
And others slaine. Th'inuaders as they got
The mastrie of any, straight-way burnt his boat:
This cast a flame on all the cane and reed
Th'row-out the Fen; that Vulcan, set on speed,
Their eares with crackling, eyes with flashing smote;
And smoakie cinders all about them flote.
Then death with vgly face vpon them gapes,
Deuouring diuers men in diuers shapes.
By fire, by water, by the sword, by smoke,
They burne, they drowne, they shed life-bloud, they choke.
So wofull case was neuer seene, they say;
But at the siege of Troy, and Solyma.
Where bastard Common-wealth of Robbers stood,
Is nothing now but cinder, smoke, and mud.
For worke by Heau'n accurst, bee't ne're so great,
Shall fall as waue that seemes the skie to threat;
And downe his fome regardlesse quickly sinkes
Amid the basest water 'twixt the brinks.
This Thyam seeing, thought vpon his dreame,
And of the meaning makes another theame;
Haue, and not haue; she should be from him tane
By force of Armes; and yet by him be slaine
With sword indeed, not as he thought before.

Against his Isis then he gan to rore,
As him deceiuing; thought it high disgrace,
That other should his deerest Loue embrace.
Thus on the Maid, the foe, the boat the weather,
His nimble thoughts disparteth heth'r and theth'r.
Now this, now that, right fast imagining;
Yet for that one neglects each other thing.
Then his exhorts againe to fight, not yeeld;
But, as they had done, still maintaine the field;
Till he Thermutis sought (that was pretent)
But all in haste vnto the Caue he went.

A barbarous man th'affection cannot tame
That once he set, nor from designe reclaime;
Selfe out of hope will take quite out of away
That most he loues, from being others prey:
And Thyam therefore all in-hand forgets;
Though compast round about with fearefull nets,
Enrag'd with anger, loue, and iealousie,
To Caue he went and rusht in suddenly;
Then cry'd aloud in Gypsie till he met
One answer'd Greeke: then left hand on her set,
And thrust her th'row with right; that there she lay,
And with her bloud her life flew quite away.
These are, quoth he, thy spousalls at my hand,
O worthy best! now none shall thee command.
So said, and comming forth he sigh'd and wept,
And shut the doore, and earth vpon it heapt.

When to the boats he came, this was the plight;
His, some, prepare to run away at sight
Of first-come enemie: Thermutis would
Doe sacrifice; whom Thyamis contrould;
And said, himselfe had offred with his blade
The fairest sacrifice that could be made:
He meant that in the Caue: so went aboord
Thermutis, he, and, them to row, a third.
The boat, as all the rest, was but a trunke
Of hollow tree; if more had come, had sunke:
In like went Cnemon and Theagenes;
And two by two, thus on fresh water seas,
A mightie number: but they made away
At first encounter. This made Cnemon say
Vnto his friend, What? shall we stay to fight,
When all the rest haue tooke them to their flight,
Saue Thyamis himselfe? so they withdrew.
But Thyamis when th'aduersaries knew,
They cry'd let all men set on him alone;
O had we him, though all the rest were gone!
Would any know the reason? these were they
That at the Canop-Outlet fled away,
And left so rich a spoyle for Thyamis;
And therefore hate they deadly him and his.
That him their minde was here to take aliue
(Though many slaine are thereto while they striue)
The cause was this: his brother Petosire,
Of heart enflamed with ambitious fire,
With-held the Priesthood from him, most vnkinde,
Against his birth-right, and his fathers minde.
Then of the Robbers was he chosen Chiefe,
And he that should haue beene Arch-Priest, Arch-theefe.
This put the younger brother much in feare,
Lest aft'r a while he should some tumult reare,
To get his right: beside, thought tract of time
Would manifest at length his further crime.
This likely mischiefe thinking to preuent,
Vnt'all th'Ægyptian Outlawes word he sent,
With summes of money, and promises of other
(Pretending, for 'twas thought he slew his brother)
For any man that should him bring aliue.

With much adoe at last they him depriue
Of strong Thermutis helpe; who brauely fought;
Yet ouer-boord was throwen, and drowned thought:
But seeing Masters case so desperate,
With other matt'r in minde, away he gate,
And swimming came to land: for th'enemy
His taking Thyam counted victory;
Yea reck'ned him of all the warre compend,
None other minding; him away they send
With halfe their force to guard; and all the rest
His Islet ransackt: long they were in quest
Of that was left, and when they little found
(For all the treasure hid was vnder ground)
The night approaching, staid they not; for feare
Of such as fled, and might surprise them there;
But, setting first the cottages afire,
Vnto their fellowes well in time retire.

The great light damps the lesse; and so, so long
As Phœbus shone, was Uulcan scarce among
The cinders seene: But, now is come the night,
Theagenes and Cnemon see the light
Of all that Isle on fire; and then began
The Louer true to cry, O wretched man,
(And tore his haire) I liue no more to day;
My danger, feare, hope, loue and care, away:
Now she is dead why should I longer breathe,
Not in my brest this bloudy weapon sheathe?
O thrice vnhappie! in vaine then did they see
Me flye the fight, to keepe my selfe for thee
So sudden lost, and by so fearfull death,
And where thou wouldst not, giuing vp thy breath!
And what a griefe is this, that so by fire,
As of thy beautie, perfect and entire,
No sparke is left. I gaue no lasten brace,
Nor kist thy dying lips, nor saw thy face.
O cruell Heau'n! are these my nuptiall brands?
So tooke his sword; but Cnemon staid his hands,
And said, What meane you? much deceiu'd you be,
Chariclia liues: You me deceiue, quoth he,
You haue vndone me, you no life haue left me,
That of so sweet a death haue thus bereft me.
Then Cnemon swore, and told all of the Caue,
And what commandment Thyamis him gaue.
This cheer'd Theagenes, and now they post
Themselues both rowing (hauing sculler lost
At first encounter) to th'encinder'd Isle;
Yet vp and downe they carried are awhile
By gusts against them, and because they knew not
The Scullers Art, and iust together rew not.
Yet (want of skill supply'd with earnest minde)
They get to shore, and then, as swift as winde,
To caue they run, and by the doore it finde;
But (that which Cnemon maruells-at) vntin'd.
He takes (as there he found) some fired reed
To giue them light, and leads the way in speed;
Yet (lo) full soone on sudden starts he backe,
And cries, O Gods, what hap is this! Alacke
W'are quite vndone; Chariclia here is slaine;
And downe the candle cast, and wept amaine.
Theagenes, as smit downe by some force,
Fell, and embrac'd the bloud-embrued corse,
And long so lay; that Cnemon lest he should
Himselfe doe hurt, came softly; and was so bold
As draw his sword that hung downe by his side,
And went for light. Then lamentably cry'd
The Knight, and said, O griefe vnsufferable!
Malignant Starre, or Furie vnsatiable!
Was't not enough to banish me from home,
All vp and downe the world to make me rome;
To cast me where no comfort man releeues,
At sea to Pyrats, and at land to theeues;
Yea more than once; and take my ioyes away?
Of all but one was left; and that to day
Is also lost, my deare Chariclia,
Slaine in defence of vertue (dare I say)
To keepe her selfe for me. These eyes of thine
That all men cheer'd, as with a light diuine,
Be darke and nothing see; nor he them saw
Who thee assail'd, or hand had staid for awe.
But this of mine shall ioyne vs, and this Caue
Our bodies both shall keepe in hidden graue.
Then felt he where he thought his sword had hung,
And said (O Cnemon) this is double wrong
Both vnto her and me. As thus he said,
A slender voyce, as 'twere of boy or maid,
Was heard to call Theagenes, and he
Full well it heard, and answer'd, Call'st thou me?
Sweet soule I come: then Cnemon came with light,
And plainely heard the voyce of such a sprite,
As call'd Theagenes: O God, quoth he,
Chariclia liues, that was her voyce; 'tis she.
O Cnemon (quoth Theagenes) O leaue,
And doe me not thus often times deceiue.
I both deceiue (quoth he) and am deceiu'd,
If this dead-one be she, and therewith heau'd
The head from ground, and to them turn'd the face:
Whereat amaz'd, he started backe a space,
And cry'd (O wonder!) this the countenance
Of Thisbe should be; what concealed chance
Should bring her hither? then Theagenes
Came to himselfe, and feeles at heart some ease;
And comforts Cnemon, almost out of winde,
That with his helpe he might the sooner finde
His deere Chariclia; this now Cnemon knew
For Thisbe, chiefly by a ribban blue,
Which with a scroule from off her necke he tooke;
And, as he would vpon the writing looke,
Theagenes him bids forbeare as then,
And seeke Chariclia further in the den.
So he's content: but I had nigh forgot
The sword of Thyamis that in the plot
Was also found, well hatcht and richly guilt,
Which Cnemon said he knew well by that hilt.
Who sits in darke, sees such as come with light,
And knowes them sooner than is knowen; this might
Excuse Chariclia, that came first t'embrace,
And kisse Theagenes with modest grace:
The fairest thing is Iustice: Health, the best;
And most delightfull, that we loue, possest:
And haue I got th'againe, quoth she? And liues
My Deere, quoth he? thus each vnt'other giues
The kinde salute; and count'r-embracing fell
For sudden ioy aswound: there was a well,
And Cnemon sprinkled wat'r vpon their faces,
Which brought againe their rosie-blushing graces.
For now asham'd they were, and chiefly she,
That Cnemon did, what past betweene them, see:
Though all but well: yet, as they had offended,
They pardon craue for that which he commended.
But you Theagenes, he said, for that
You did before, I cannot praise; for, what?
Embrace a stranger hauing no relation
To you at all, and in so foule a fashion?
While I stood by, and told you plaine that she,
Your best Beloued, liued yet? quoth he,
O charge me not before Chariclia;
I tooke that course for her. But can you say
Ought for your selfe, who first the same mistooke,
And wail'd my case, and started backe, and shooke
For feare of woman dead, an armed man?
O Souldiour stout! O braue Athenian!
Hereat they smil'd a little, but with teares,
As more to sorrow bent amid their feares.
And yet Chariclia scratching at her eare,
As if sh'had then conceiu'd some iealous feare
By thinking on't, broke out thus; Happie she,
Whom he so wail'd and kist, what ere she be!
And, but you both will thinke of iealousie
I aske thereof, faine would I know of thee,
Sweet heart, what one it was, that so for me
Was kist vnknowen? You maruell will, quoth he:
For Cnemon saith 'twas Thisbe that Athenian,
The Minstrellesse that wrought so with a wenian
'Gainst him and Demenet. Chariclia, scar'd
With newes thereof, askt Cnemon how it far'd
That Thisbe's brought from Greece into this den,
And neither he nor she perceiu'd her, when
They thither came. That, who can tell? quoth he;
But that of her I know, is this; when she
Had circumuented Demenet (the plot
Against me knowen) at first my father got
Himselfe a pardon, and my home-recall;
And me to seeke prepar'd a ship; and all
This while the queane had leisure t'exercise her
In minstralsie; Arsinoe enuies her;
Chiefly because the Merchant Nausicles
Became her loue, before Arsinoes;
She vnto friends of Demenet relates
The plot of Thisbe, they vnto the States;
And cause to plead procure with great expence
The men of greatest wit and eloquence.
They cry that Demenet was cast away
Vniudged, vnconuict, and further say,
This crime of wed-breach was deuis'd for shame
And way to death; where is he? what's his name,
That should commit this foule adulterie?
Him bring aliue or dead; or else, to trie
The cause aright that Thisbe let be rackt.
My father promis'd; but she closely packt
Her selfe away; what like to fall vpon her
Fore-seeing well: and then with much dishonour
My father (cleer'd of murder by the lawes,
As one that had related right the cause)
Yet lost his goods, and was himselfe exil'd,
For ouerthrowing so his guiltlesse childe,
And helping Thisbes plot against his wife;
That better had he led still widdow life.
The man that buries wife, and weds againe,
Doth after ship-wrack lanch into the Maine.
But this same Thisbe, here that hath her due
Now in my sight, from Athens came I knew
By Anticles at Ægin; therefore twice
With him int' Ægypt sail'd I with aduice
To finde her there: that by her meanes I might
Releeue my father; State enforming right.
But how to Lake, or how into this Den
She was conuey'd, I cannot tell, nor when.
But, if you please, let's see what's in the writ
I found about her; thus beginneth it:
Vnto my master Cnemon. Know you (Sir)
My mistres death, and I procur'd it her,
For your reuenge; but how, because (forsooth)
'Twere long to write, Ile tell by word of mouth.
If you be pleas'd your hand-maid to receiue,
And, while I tell the manner giue me leaue.
Ten dayes I haue beene here captiu'd t'a theefe,
Who vaunts himselfe Shield-bearer to the Chiefe.
So close he keepes me that I cannot moue
Vnt'any doore, and saith it is for loue;
I rather thinke, and liker 'tis, for feare
Lest any take me from him; yet (mine Here)
Some pow'r diuine me did the grace to shew me
Your face in passing-by, and I beshrew me,
That out I ran not humbly to salute you;
The fault vnto my hard restraint impute you:
With much adoe yet pen and inke I got,
And wrote, and sent you this by that old Trot
Was set to keepe me; saue me (Sir) I pray you,
And I in all things humbly will obey you.
'Twas by constraint against you that I wrought;
But, you to right, of owne accord I sought.
And if your anger nothing can appease,
It vse against me (Sir) eu'n as your please.
For by your order rather had I die,
And buried be with Grecian obsequie,
That Attick am, than suffer, Worse than hate,
Of barbarous theefe the loue disordinate.
Thus had she wrote, and Cnemon thereto said;
Vnhappie Tib, (I cannot call thee maid)
That after death (yet so I count it well)
Thus to my selfe thou do'st thy storie tell.
Behold Reuenge about the world thee cast,
Nor staid her whip, till vnto me at last,
Whom thou hadst wrong'd, she brought thee; that with eye,
I might be witnesse of thy miserie.
But what a mischiefe hadst thou now in hand,
To worke by lett'r against me? for I stand
In doubt, that all is yet but some inuent
Of thine, to be so farre int' Ægypt sent,
To worke my woe. Theagenes burst out,
Still feare you shadowes? are ye still so stout?
You see she's slaine; but who hath blest you so,
How, when, and why 'tis done, faine would I know.
By Thyamis (quoth he) the deed was done,
I know his sword, and th'Eagle grau'n thereon:
But cannot ghesse, or how, or why, or when.
This is no such as was Trophony's den,
Whererein whos'euer enter'd, prophesi'd,
O Pythia then, O Delphi they two cry'd;
And both at once; not knowing what they ment,
He stood amaz'd thereat; and thus they spent
Some time in commoning. Now must you know,
That when Thermutis had receiu'd a blow,
And wounded swam to land, he came in haste
Vnto the Caue where he had Thisbe plac'd;
What time his Master sent him to deuise
(And long he staid) for solemne sacrifice.
And hard within the doore, as come but new,
Her Thyam finding, for Cariclia slew.
Now as the commoned Thermutis came
And called Thisbe, greeking but in name;
But when he found her dead, vpon her gaz'd,
And, word not vtt'ring long time stood amaz'd.
At last them hearing to them went, and thought
They had her slaine; and would reuenge haue wrought,
But naked was, eu'n as to land he swam,
And had no sword; O, then in what a stam
Was theeuish, barb'rous, loue-sicke, angrie minde,
That how to wreak his wrath could no way finde;
But must comply! and so he did; but yet
Meant, if he got a sword, vpon them set.
His looke declar'd his minde was not at ease,
And so came fawning to Theagenes:
Amaz'd they were before they heard him speake,
And suddenly Chariclia gaue a squeake,
And into th'inner mazie cabbin ran,
For feare, or shame, to see a naked man.
Theagenes opposed point of blade
Against the slie assault Thermutis made;
And bids keepe-off: when he the danger sees,
With humble shew he fell downe on his knees,
By fortune more than nature made so tame,
And him to plead-for Cnemon call'd by name;
And said, I late your fellow was, and crau'd
That both would thinke him worthy to be sau'd.
It moued Cnemon take him vp, and where
Sir Thyam was, and how he sped, to spere.
He told of Thyams taking, hardly more
The manner how, than I haue said before;
And said himselfe came now to seeke a slut,
Whom he in caue before the battell shut.
Her name was Thisbe, what is she to you?
Quoth they. Then he them told the manner how
He tooke her from the Merchants, lou'd her, left her;
And now he knowes not who had him bereft her.
Then Cnemon, them of all suspect to quit,
That Thyam kill'd her, said, this proueth it,
And shew'd the sword, that well Thermutis knew,
And saw it bloudy yet of slaughter new.
From barb'rous brest a deepe sigh then he drew,
And said, O Thisbe, my deere heart, adieu.
And Thisbe, Thisbe, rudely still he brai'd,
And on her brest his head all bloudy laid:
He kist her dying lips, and kissing wept,
Till charmie sleepe vpon his senses crept.
Than th'other three had time (it seem'd) to thinke
On their affaires, yet all begin to winke,
Opprest with former toyles, and Cnemon led
The way to sleepe; Theagenes his head
Leant on a stone, and she vpon his brest,
And all together sweetly tooke their rest.
Commanding Nature will enioy her season,
And make our senses ouercome our reason.
From this the carefull minde is not exempt;
And, while Chariclia rested, thus she dreampt.
A shag-hair'd fellow (dreaming thus she quak'd)
She thought pull'd out her eye, wherewith she wak'd,
And not remembring their now-present plight,
She gaue a sudden shreeke, that wak'd her Knight;
What ailes my loue, quoth he? She told the case,
And with her fingers felt about her face:
Then 'tis a dreame, quoth she, I haue mine eyes;
But what this meaneth can I not deuise.
And sore I feare, lest you that are mine eye
Be taken from me; Cnemon with her cry,
Awak'd, and heard, and answer'd by and by:
Good Lady thinke not so; not so thinke I;
But, if your parents liued late, shall one
Of them depart; for, this full well is knowne,
They made you see and seene: and therefore right
It is, to count them authors of your light;
And so your eyes. I thanke you (Sir) for this,
Quoth she, and pray, you hit the marke, I misse.
We doe but dreame then quoth Theagenes
Thus weighing dreames: 'twere better for our ease
We weigh our dangers, casting them decline;
And since you gia'n are by some Power Diuine,
T'assist vs Cnemon, vnderstanding well
Both tongue and wayes, which we doe not; pray tell
Your best aduice, while yonder Gypsie sleepes:
For fast away neglected season creepes.
Then he, In the Isle prouision is there none;
But hidden treasure much, to diuers known:
Consider then, if here we longer stay,
We starue forthwith, or make our selues a pray
To some late on our side that all doe know,
And come for spoyle, or to returning foe.
Then haste we must away; but first deuise
To rid vs of Thermutis; otherwise
Who knows how long we shall be forc'd endure
A man vnconstant, barbarous, impure,
And something still suspecting vs for her
He loued so? if time he finde to stirre.
But how vs rid? by sending him t'enquire
Of Thyamis: and hereto they conspire.
And raise and tell him; he's content; but so
As Cnemon went with him; alone to goe
Vnwilling was, in case so dangerous:
And Cnemon thought it much more perillous,
T'haue such a mate: this saw Theagenes,
Who spoke him-to aside: the words were these.

Sir Cnemon, well you counsaile can, but want
Performing courage. Courage man: how can't
Be dangerous for you to goe with one
So naked man; you hauing sword, he none?
And hee'll suspect our flight if you refuse:
But goe togeth'r at first, and after vse
Your skill to leaue him; pointing vs to meet
At neerest ciuill place; and in the street
Of Chemmis was th'appointed place, a Towne
Both populous and rich, vpon a Downe,
Or side of hill, erected for defence
Against the spoyling Herdmens insolence,
At banke of Nilus, not farre from the mouth,
Beyond this poole some twelue mile off, at South.
This is too farre for her to walke at ease,
Not wont to foot it, quoth Theagenes:
But goe we will in beggars poore array,
T'auoid suspect, and get meat by the way.
A good deuice, quoth Cnemon, verily;
Deformed both, and she hath lost an eye:
But sure I thinke you looke for better fees,
Than can be got by begging bread and cheese.
Whereat they smile, and sweare fidelitie,
Not one to faile another willingly.

And on the morning Cnemon and Thermute
Their iourney take, and fall to some dispute,
Ere halfe a mile they past, at breake aday,
Concerning wheth'r of them should lead the way:
Which Cnemon will not, ignorance pretending,
But 'twas indeed to cast for his defending;
And take same offer'd opportunitie,
To rid him of such hatefull company.
They went not farre, but light vpon a flocke,
Whose Shepherds, hauing heard the fearfull shocke
Late at the poole, were gone, and all amid
The thickest neighbour woods themselues had hid.
This hungrie paire then caught a sheepe and flead,
And broyl'd it there vpon the Shepherds glead.
But (not to stay, for hunger, or for feare)
With hastie chaps the scorched meat they teare.
And bleeding send it downe the narrow gulfe,
As Indian Tiger wont, and Irish Woolfe.
Thus hauing fed, and drunke of milke their fill,
Now toward night they come vnto a hill,
At whose far-side was set, Thermutis said,
A towne where Thyam (as he thought) was staid.
But Cnemon feined cause to lag behinde,
As pained sore in guts with flux and winde,
And vpward casting his disorder'd maw,
For drinking milke, and eating meat so raw;
The Gypsie staying for him on that hill
In little time benighted was, and fill
Asleepe, where he had laid him on a stone,
And stung with Aspe ere morning di'd alone.
That Cnemon knew not, who ran still in feare
Of this so fell, now no more biting, Beare:
He lookt behinde him still and ran amaine;
And ran, and lookt, and ran, and lookt againe.
O how this sight would faire Chariclia please,
To laugh at him that mockt Theagenes.
A liuing Greeke from dead Ægyptian ran;
And long time that, which could not hurt him, shan.
As Coward arm'd with helmet, shield, and speare,
Lookt in a glasse, and ran away for feare.

At night he wraps himselfe in heape of leaues;
And yet for feare he neither turnes nor heaues,
Nor takes a nap, but dreaming of his case,
Still thinkes him running from Thermutis face.
When day began, which he thought longest when,
His haire that, for the custome of those men
With whom he liu'd, he let grow verie long,
(For thought it is elsewhere, and these among,
That shaggie locks will make a young man show
Both milde to friend, and terrible to foe)
He now cut short: and this was reason chiefe;
Because he would not still be tooke for theefe.
Then hasted he to Chemmis, by th'accord
Betweene them made; and neere to Nilus bord
Where o're he was to passe, he saw at hand
An old man walking vp and downe the strand;
(White haire he wore, in holy fashion long,
His beard alike downe vnt' his girdle hung,
More narrow toward point; in Greekish cloke,
And other garments made of finest loke)
So full of thought, that with faire By-your-leaues,
Thrice passed-by, he no man yet perceiues:
Then comming face to face, him bids all-haile:
Of that (quoth he) my fortune will me faile.
Then Cnemon wondred, and was farre to seeke,
And said, I pray (Sir) are y'a stranger Greeke?
Nor Greeke, nor stranger, then repli'd th'old Sire:
Why then (quoth Cnemon) weare you Greeke attire?
That this I weare, though this more gallant bee,
Quoth he, the cause is my calamitee.

But th'other wondred why a man should weare
For sorrow gallant clothes, and faine would heare.
A tale (quoth he) too long and lamentable
For me to tell, for you vnsufferable.
But (young man) whither goe you? what to seeke?
And how in Ægypt (tell me) speake you Greeke?
I askt you first, quoth he, and you refuse:
Of mine affaires then will you know the newes?
I take't not ill (quoth th'old man) for you seeme
A Greeke well taught, and one of some esteeme;
And changed, as my selfe, for some designe;
But (O) I wish you better case than mine:
Which, if I should not tell, my heart would burst,
And therefore well am pleas'd to tell you first.
But let vs passe the Nile here running wide,
And goe to yonder towne on th'other side.
I haue no house mine owne there, but a friend
That me receiues, and all that I commend:
We shall be kindly vs'd, and there full well
Our strange aduentures may both heare and tell.
Gow' then (saith Cnemon) let vs passe the Sound,
And to the towne: for thither was I bound,
To meet some friends. Then timely take they boat,
(For many there vpon the riuer float,
Expecting hire) and to the towne they bend,
And that mans house, which was this old mans frend.
The man abroad, his daughter marriageable,
And other maids attend them, set the table,
And furnish it with diuers daintie meats,
And make their bed, and lay them aired sheets,
And washt their feet: then Cnemon, we may call
This house the house of Iupin Hospitall:
Not so, but one that knowes the God so hight,
Reply'd the old man, and one that fauours right:
And in a word, to passe by all the rest,
He knowing well distresse will helpe distrest.
So did he me, and brought me to this place
With trauell weari'd, and in wofull case:
And still in what I need affordeth aid.
Why trauell you, quoth Cnemon? Th'old man said,
Of children robb'd I was by theeuish might,
And, though I know them, dare I not me right.
But here I mourne; nor can I take my rest
Or day, or night: as bird that hath her nest
Deuour'd by Dragon all afore her eyes;
Yet nigh she dare not come, nor farre she flyes.

Wilt please you then (quoth Cnemon, Sir) to show,
How this befell you, and how long agoe.
Hereafter Sir, quoth he; now time requires
To thinke vpon our stomacks iust desires.
But first doe seruice to the Gods, as vse
Th'Ægyptian Wise-men: nothing shall excuse
Me from this dutie; then vpon the ground
Faire water powring, said, this am I bound,
And doe, in honour of the Pow'rs Diuine
That hold this place, and such as well encline
To Greece, Apollo Delphicke, Cynthia,
Theagenes, and his Chariclia;
Whom I among the Gods will euer count:
So did, and said, and wept as from a fount.

This Cnemon hearing, on him wistly gaz'd,
And well obseruing him reply'd amaz'd;
If for my boldnesse (Sir) I be not blam'd,
What are to you the two that last you nam'd?
They are my children (quoth he) not by wife,
But giuen me from aboue; the griefe and strife,
Which I haue had for them, me them assure
As much as if they were my geniture.
As children loue I them, they me as Sire:
But (Sir) it makes me greatly now t'admire
How you them know. I know (quoth he) and tell
This for your comfort, they are safe and well.
O Phœbus! O, where are they? tell m' I pray.
What will you giue to know, quoth he? why say
What will you aske (quoth th'old man?) Here no more
Than thanks well can I giue; and that for store
Of wealth doe good men take, and hoord in heart,
As treasure great: nor will they from it part
For any thing: but if I come well home
(And Isis promiseth so shall I come)
And safe receiue my deere boy and my guirle,
I will reward you both with gold and pearle.
Vncertaine this is and to come, quoth he;
You may in present better pleasure me.
Aske what you will, quoth old man: Promise now
(Quoth he) to tell me whence they are, and how
They were disseuer'd from you, and their birth;
For next your selfe none more them loues on earth.
A treasure great is this; but, sith you craue it,
I promise, after supper you shall haue it.
When they had eat their nuts, and figs, and dates,
And plums, and pears, and other such achates,
As th'old man wont (for that which once had life,
He ne're would eat-of; nor it touch with knife)
And he had water drunke, and Cnemon wine:
The Greeke began, and said; O graue Diuine,
Bid one, I pray, come take away the boord;
For now is time that you performe your word.

I will (quoth he) and would good Nausicles
Were here to heare the tale, but Mitranes
Hath drawen him out on hunting; oft he pray'd
Me tell the same, and still I him delay'd.
The Greeke had heard, and startled-at the name
Of Nausicles, and askt what was the game
They went to chase: of beasts (quoth he) the worst,
That call'd are men, of all good men accurst.
They liue by spoyle, we hardly can them take;
For, for their den they keepe a noysome Lake.
What haue they done? quoth hee: surpris'd a guitle,
Which he esteem'd aboue or gold or pearle,
An Attick-borne, which, well could play and sing;
He meant present her to th'Abissen King;
His Queene to wait-on, hoping (in regard
She was a Greeke, so taught) for great reward,
As wont be giu'n there: Thisbe was her name.
O Gods! quoth he; and closely past the quame,
To heare the rest: and vnperceiued said,
What force of Armes hath Nausicles, what aid
For such emprize? He told him Mitranes,
A Leader vnder Lord Orondates,
The Kings Lieutenant there, with horse and foot
For some good summes of money's hir'd to doo't.
And I so counsail'd; for my minde me gaue,
I might some newes thence of my children haue.
O Sir (quoth Cnemon) I had nigh forgot,
Thus led along by your entising plot,
To put y'in minde of promise; what is this
To that, I pray? and th'old man said, it is
To that you askt me last; and now to that
You most desire I come: but first somewhat,
To make the matter cleere, I must premise,
And of my selfe, on whom that storie lyes.

In Memphis borne of father Calasire,
Whose name and office (he that shall enquire,
May finde) I had, and Isis minister
Was long therein, though now a wanderer.
Wife had by Citi's, lost by Natures hest:
When she from body went t'another rest,
My life I led awhile without anoyes,
My selfe delighting with two pleasing boyes
I had by her: at length it thus befell;
Here came from Thrace (to me may seeme from hell)
A wanton Peece, nor ouer young nor old,
Of woman kinde, so tising and so bold;
That she to Temple came, and at her heeles,
A traine of seeming Maids as smug as Eeles.
Thus once she told me, from Philosophee
I can your schollers draw; you none fro mee
And I reply'd, 'tis easier to spill,
Than make the man: your draught is downe the hill,
A broad and easie way to vice; but I
Them vpward driue to vertue lodg'd on high.

Yet, after this, I blush to tell, but will;
Though long resisting that entising ill,
I faint at length, and lest I place profane,
(Twice marrie may not Metropolitane)
I rather chose obseruing holy Lawes
My selfe t'absent, pretending other cause;
To see my Thyamis, mine eldest son,
Which with his Grand-mother at Thebes won.
That name againe made Cnemon muse, but let
Th'old man say-on, to heare what issue set.
Besides (quoth he) the Goddesse whom I serue
Me told my fate, from which I could not swerue:
My sonnes, by some disaster waxen lewd,
Should fall at odds, and into deadly fewd.
The sight whereof t'auoid, I further went,
And punished my selfe with banishment.
The mid-time of my trauell will I balke,
As not concerning this whereof we talke.
When I at Thebes heard how great a fame
There ran of Delphos, and Apollo's name,
I long to see', and landing at the Cirrhe
In Crissie Gulph, ere I the Towne came neere,
Of voyce diuine me thought I heard the sound,
And worshipped, and kist that holy ground:
The place is such indeed, quoth Cnemon then;
For right the same my father told me, when
He had been Legate there from Athens sent,
To meet in graue Heptarchie-Parlament.
And are you then Athenian, quoth he;
What name, I pray Sir? Cnemon call they me;
And of my state I tell you shall anon;
Now (pray) with that you haue begun, goe on.

Then he; deuoutly to the Templ' I come,
And aske, and answer get, thus much in summe:
From fruitfull banke of Nile why do'st thou flie,
T'auoyd the strong designe of Destinie?
Endure; int' Ægypt shortly will I send thee,
And there, in all that is to come, befrend thee.
And they that heard it, standing neere in place,
Said, since Lycurgus, no man had the grace
To be so welcom'd: and forth-with they all
Well entertaine me; still their friend me call,
And friend to that their God; so well prouide me
Of common purse, that nothing is deni'd me.
In temple-close I lodg'd was nigh the griest,
And grew acquaint with Charicles the Priest:
Who told me many things, and askt me some;
As whence those ouer-floods of Nilus come;
Who made th'enormous great Pyramides;
Of Crocodiles, Ichneumons, Ostridges;
And of the two-legg'd-winged Dragon, seene
To swim and flie the riuer banks betweene,
From out of Arabie; which he thought was
The right, not that which wings and fourefeet has.
And much the like: then I, Sir, how come you
To know our parts so well? to tell you true
(Quoth he) I trauell'd th'row them many a mile
To Catadupe, and Cataracts of Nile:
And as in Citie walking on a season,
I bought that was with us in Greece most geason,
Against returne, a man of comely port,
Though blacke, and speaking Greeke, as aft'r a sort,
Me met, saluted courteously, and pray'd
A word with me, and in the Temple said;
I saw you (Sir) buy many drugs to day,
Some Abissine, and some of India;
What I shall shew you, bee't with your good leaue,
And buy of mee; I will you not deceiue.
I will, let's see, quoth I: Nor doe you grutch
(Quothe he) to giue: Quoth I, nor aske you much.
And so from vnder's arme a casket drew,
With many precious stones, greene, red, and blue;
And oyly-shining pearle, as big as pease,
All perfit round, of South-East Indies seas;
When I beheld them dazled were mine eyes,
And (Sir) I said in vaine should I them prize;
Goe seeke a fitter chapman, if you please,
For all I haue will not buy one of these.
If you ne buy them can (quoth he) yet take them;
That can yee doe; and I your owne will make them.
I cannot set (quoth I) so great a rest,
Nor take this gift: but why so doe you iest?
I doe not iest, beleeue me (Sir) quoth he;
But am in earnest: hereby shall you see:
These all I giue you, so be that you please
Take one thing more, more worth than are all these.
I laught, he askt me why; at iest you make
To promise more (quoth I) if all I take.
I sweare the gift (quoth he) but sweare ye to
To vse it well: and for such hope, I doe.
Then with his right hand by the left he takes me,
And leads me home t'his house, and welcome makes me:
And shewes m'a faire one, putting off her masket,
More worth than all the Iewels in his casket.
He said she was no more than seu'n yeere ould,
But I no lesse than twice seu'n ghesse her could,
And fit for husband: beautie rare (I deeme)
Makes little Ladies often taller seeme.
I stood amaz'd, as well at that was done,
As what I saw. He thus againe begunne.

This daintie guirle, her mother, for some drift
You shall hereafter know, her left to shift
With fickle Fortune, wrapt in cradle-bands;
I chance to finde and take her in my hands,
And saue her life; for our Gymnosophists,
When soule of man hath entred fleshie lists,
Hold that it ought in no wise be neglected,
But as the life of man, by man protected;
Besides I saw, as 'twere, a beame diuine,
When she beheld me, shoot forth of her eyne:
About her lay this heape of precious stones,
And silke with letters wrought, which for the nones
(I thinke) were done to proue another day
Whose th'Infant was, and hidden truth bewray.
When I them read, I saw well whose she was,
Yet vnto Shepherds nursing let her passe;
And kept the rest, for feare that for the pray
The childe might afterward be made away.
And while she was but verie small, I count
Her hidden safe: but flours of beautie mount,
And such as this apace; that vnder ground
(I thinke) though hid, would breake forth and befound.
Thus though awhile I had it well conceal'd,
I feare it would by selfe light be reueal'd;
So hurt it selfe and me. Then suit I make
To be int' Ægypt sent, and her I take
Along with me; and now in this Embassage
I hope to finde for her some better passage;
And eu'n by you, Sir, whom this many a day
I well obserue: and take her you, I pray,
With all her dowrie, swearing first to me,
You will her keepe, and marrie well, as free.
But now no more, my businesse cals me hence,
This King to day appoints me audience.
In Isis Fane to morrow will I tell you
The rest of her, and so with her farewell you.
I take her home, and on the morrow went,
To know the rest; but he away was sent
With threats for haste; because he came to claime
A mine of Emrauds for the Melchusaim,
Hydaspes King of either Blackmoreland;
Then I, (because I could not vnderstand
Who, whence she was, and of what parents borne,
That had thereafter listned so beforne)
With disconteut retire: I cannot blame
Him (then quoth Cnemon) for I feele the same:
But what he further said, quoth Calasire,
Now shall I tell, and make you much admire.

When I came in (thus said my Charicles)
At sight of her my heart had present ease:
In Catadup no longer dare I stay;
But homeward downe the Nile make haste away.
And here she now is with me, counted mine,
And beares my name: and doth in all encline
T'obey me like her father (so she takes me).
But of a husband will not heare (that makes me
Full, full of care) and yet in beautie exceeds
All maids of Greece, which emulation breeds:
For strangers here as well as Greekes admire her;
And many Suitors, men of worth, desire her.
She saith she will Diana follow she,
And hunting with her still a Maiden be:
With bow and shaft full well can hit the marke;
But vnto Cupids bow would neuer harke.
I thought bestow her on my sisters sonne,
A proper man; but nothing can be done;
In vaine is all my care and labour spent;
So strongly she maintains her said intent,
And most with reasons sometime heard of mee,
In commendation of Virginitee:
Now I beseech you (Sir) helpe what you may:
To talke with her she will not you say nay,
Nor any worthy man: she courteous is,
And opportunitie you cannot misse:
In Temple-close, as 'twere in house the same,
Now liuing both: me helpe maintaine my name;
For husband worthy long she shall not tarrie;
Pray, you perswade her what you can to marrie;
Lest, wanting whom to leaue-to mine estate,
I lead my latter dayes disconsolate.
So said he (Cnemon) shedding teares, and I
Him promise helpe, and weepe for company.

While thus we talke, a solemne Embasie
Of Achillæans came to him; and I,
When he had told me what they were, desire
To see the principall; (he camet'enquire
Of Charicles the Priest for furtherance,
And what so might their Sacrifice aduance)
Let call him in (quoth he) and then came in
The goodli'st youth among them e're had bin:
Achilles-like in portlinesse and face,
And shew of courage with more louely grace.
Vs he saluted, we him resalute:
And Sir (quoth he to Charicles) impute
No fault to me; for haste I must the Rite,
That all the pompe may well come in ere night.
Goe then, quoth Charicles, and to me said,
If not before, now shall you see the Maid.
For she, Diana's seruant, must attend
This Sacrifice, from time it gin to th'end.
Now (Cnemon) I had seene the Maid before,
And with her ministred; and of the lore
Sh'hath askt me many points; now held my peace
To see the sequele: here our talke we cease,
And goe to Templ'; as all things were before
Made ready, when the Chiefe came in at dore.
We come to th'Altar, and with Priest his leaue,
Begins the young man orison conceiue.
By secret slight some cunning Priests will make
Diana's Image, and Apollo's shake:
And call it pious fraud: but thus thinke I,
Truth has no need helpt-out to be with lye.
For when came forth Diana's gallant Maid
With virgin traine, thus Pythia plainly said:
The youngest he and she, that here attends
In Priestly Rite, shall haue their wished ends:
By sea and land, by warre and tempest tost,
Shall come at length to hot Sun-parched coast,
For vertues due reward; and there allight,
Their tanned temples crowne with Turbanwhite.
This Oracle not one of that Repaire
Could vnderstand, and least of all the faire,
That had no tanned temples, could be thought
Design'd thereby. But when the thing is wrought,
Then prophecies and dreames are vnderstood;
Then shewes the face, before kept vnder hood.

All other pompe to tell (quoth Calasire)
Iouerpasse, and for you most desire,
To know how bore themselues that solemne day
Theagenes and his Chariclia;
Though yet not his; when he came forth, what ere
Was seene before, is thought not worth a peare.
The gallant mounted on a Dapple-gray,
In shining rich attire reuiu'd the day,
As Sunne broke out of cloud; his abron haire
Wau'd vp and downe with Æols gentlest aire.
Of purple veluet was his cloake, and wrought
With gold, how Lapiths with the Centaurs fought.
The Buckle-brooch thereof in fine Obryze
Had Pallas wrought with faire sky-colour'd eyes
Of Saphyr bright: her brest is couered
With stone-to-turning shield of Gorgons head.
Then in his hand the steely-pointed lance
So well became him; when he gan to prance,
(Helme had he none, his cheerely face to cloud)
I thought the horse was of the rider proud;
So wantonly to right, to left he flings,
And neighing, snorting, yerking, trots the rings:
Foot after foot then on the grasse he stamps,
And golden bit with teeth all-foamy champs:
Now this, now that way, fore and backward flyes,
With prick-eare, tost-vp head and rowling eyes;
With many a short curuet, and loftie bound,
So daintie trampling, as he scorn'd the ground;
At length on tip-hoofe striking for a space,
His fiercenesse moderates with pleasant pace:
So horse to man, and man to horse complies,
Not two, but one, they seeme to fall and rise.
Amaz'd were all at him, and women kinde,
That could not hide th'affections of their minde,
Cast many fauours at him mouing mirth,
And all him thought the goodliest thing on earth.

But when, like rosie-finger'd morning-shine,
Came faire Chariclia from Diana's shrine;
Theagenes, how euer they commend him,
Himselfe and they confesse she goes beyend him.
And yet (well dare I say) no further sure,
Then doth a womans beautie more allure.
In purple silke to foot, orecast with lawne,
She rode in Coach with two white oxen drawne,
As there the state is; gold and precious stone,
From thicker garment th'row the thinner shone.
Two Serpents made of gold, enamell'd blew,
With tailes entangled from her shoulders drew
Each t'other side, close vnder either arme,
And re-entangled, as it were by charme,
Some place they seeke, wherein to take their rest,
And met, and hung their heads below her brest:
And this her girdle was; they seeme full deepe
Enchanted by the virgin pap to sleepe.
Her amber haire nor all bound-vp, nor yet
All hanging loose, aboue with Coronet
Of Laurell tide is (left the winde it raise)
And vnderneath vpon her shoulder playes.
Below the right a perled quiuer hung
With siluer shafts, nor ouer short nor long;
Her left hand held a gilden bow, her right
A golden cansticke with wax taper light.
And eu'ry man her then beholding cryes,
How brighter than the taper been her eyes!
Then Cnemon suddenly burst-out; O these
Are true Chariclia, true Theagenes.
And Calasiris said, I pray now where?
As thinking Cnemon had espi'd them there.
Your speech, quoth he, so brought them me to minde;
As if I saw them. You shall neuer finde
The like, quoth Calasire, I speake it bold,
Sun neuer since did such a paire behold.
The man and wife like him and her that bee,
May thinke t'haue gotten immortalitee.

But come to point; when all the beasts were slaine
For sacrifice, some of the leaders traine,
Appointed thereunto, forthwith desire
Apollo's Priest begin, and tind the fire
Vpon his Altar; Charicles then said,
The Leader selfe must from Diana's Maid
The burning taper take, and fire the wood;
Mine office was to poure the wine and blood:
And so he did. Then came Theagenes
To fetch the taper: now (Sir, if you please)
By way obserue the soules diuinitee
In passage following, as seemes to me:
For, when each other first they gan behould,
They paus'd a while, as if they thought they should
Each other know. So minde and minde alike,
Though not acquainted, soone together strike:
As two quick siluer drops each other nigh
Can hardly stand, but soone together flie.
With more assured countenance yet she
That holy candle gaue, than tooke it he.
A little smile they both, and blush the while,
As if they were asham'd be seene to smile;
And after pale, now all the face, now part,
Declare th'affection had possest their heart.
And still their count'nance alter'd, and their eyes,
In such a sort as troubled minde implyes.
Which none so markt as I, who nothing there
Had else to doe, and, what was said whilere
By th'Oracle, now thought-on: so remain'd,
When he the taper taking was constrain'd
To leaue the Virgin, nothing else to doe
But complement, and fire the wood, and goe
To banquet with his Achillæan Peeres;
And she to chamber presently reteeres;
Puts-off her robes, and puts-on oth'r attire;
Not dwelling now with her supposed Sire,
For only feare of his importunance
To worke in her from purpose variance.

Now grew I curious marking what had past,
And Charicles to meet of purpose cast;
And haue you seene (quoth he) my ioy to day,
Yea Delphos ioy and mine, Chariclia?
Giue father leaue to dote on daughters face:
Pray, how d'ye like her? did she somewhat grace
The solemne shew? You aske as much, quoth I,
As if the Moone doe somewhat grace the skie.
I'me going to her, quoth he; goe with mee,
And how she doth, now all is past, let's see:
Lest any hurt she tooke amid the croud,
Or by the peoples roaring out so loud.
I gladly yeelded, making yet a show
Of other things neglect, with him to goe.
When there we come, we finde her sicke a bed,
She saith she cannot sleepe for paine in head.
But well did I obserue, at this surprise,
Her broken speeches, and her loue-sicke eyes;
Her father did not: He giues straight command
They make no noise about her, then by th'hand
He leads m'abroad, and saith, What thinke you (friend)
Of her so sudden change at one hours end?
In such a prease (quoth I) or in, or out,
Some glance of eye bewitcht her hath, no doubt.
You then belike, in iesting wise quoth he,
And smil'd therewith, beleeue that such there be.
I doe, quoth I, and, as I thought to proue
The like by reason, both in hate and loue;
Comes one in haste (he seem'd well soak'd in wine)
And saith, My masters meane you not to dine?
You seeme as slow, as if to battell prest
You rather were, than bid to such a feast.
And this the ba-ba-braue Theagenes
In honour makes of Neoptolemes.
This man (quoth Charicles) doth so inuite vs,
As if to dinner he would driue and sinite vs:
W'had best be gone. You doe but iest (quoth I)
But let vs goe indeed, intending why.
And when we came, he Charicles doth place
The next him-to, and for his sake me grace.

To passe the rest, this youth behau'd himselfe,
As well-became Embassadour to Delph.
Nor spake, nor lookt, as loue-sicke one, but strivve
Vnt'all his guests good entertaine to giue
With cheerly countenance: but I could see
How aft'r a sigh he fained a merrie glee,
Was sad sometime, yet would himselfe recall,
And into sundrie changes easly fall.
For Bacchus-like is Cupid, some men thinke;
And Drinkers soone will loue; and Louers drinke,
This Charicles percein'd, and softly twitcht
Me by the sleeue, and said; Hath eye bewitcht
This gallant too? Quoth I, we may't inferre;
For who excell'd but he, next after her?
He drunke a health vnt'all, at length to me;
I thankt, but pledg'd him not, and thereat he
Seem'd discontent; me Charicles excus'd,
And said, drinke wine th'Ægyptian Priest not vsd.
He now perceiuing what I was, and whence,
Me more esteem'd, and set aside offence.
And, glad as one that had a treasure found
Vpon a sudden, hidden in the ground,
To me againe he drunke in water cleere,
And said (Graue father) let our meeting here,
And this carouse in that you fancie best,
Confirme our loue, and setl'it fast in brest.
Content, most noble Prince (quoth I) for so
Was my desire: therewith we rise and goe.

When home I came, I so began to thinke
On these affaires, I covld not sleepe a winke:
But studied still what meant the latter part
Of th'Oracle, and found it past mine Art.
Now neere on midnight (wheth'r I wakt, or slept,
I cannot tell; but sure I am I wept,
Because I found not out the mysterie)
This vision had I from our Deitee:
Apollo with Diana came; and he
Theagenes me brought, Chariclia she;
And told me time was now I should retire
To natiue soyle: and said, O Calasire,
Now time is come, and Destinie commands:
Then take these two (and put them to my hands)
Int' Ægypt with you, neuer trust deceiue;
But keepe and guide them as the Gods giue leaue.
Glad was I (Cnemon) so much more to know,
That homeward now I with these two should goe:
But how my Charicles should be depriu'd,
And our departure handsomely contriu'd,
I could not see; When Gods will haue thing done
They tender meanes; This while I thought vpon,
At breake-aday one at my portall knockt,
And when my seruant had the doore vnlockt;
Who should it be, but selfe Theagenes!
My troubled minde me thought then felt some ease;
I thought (and likely 'twas) that when he knew
I was a Gypsie, not of common crew,
But Priest of Memphis; that he thought I might
In loue so faithfull helpe to doe him right;
And therefore came: we kindly consalute,
And on my bed he sate a while as mute.
What makes my Lord (quoth I) thus early rise?
And why to me? he wip'd his loue-sicke eyes,
And said, O father, neuer stood I more
I need of helpe. When I him askt, wherefore?
He blusht aud held his peace: I saw my time
To play the Gypsie; and thus began to trie him.
What you conceale (quoth I) and tell me doubt,
I shall by cunning Gypsie-skill finde out:
And smiling rais'd my selfe, and counters tooke
Betwixt my fingers, nought to numb'r, and looke
As one possest, and wistly them remoue
From place to place, and say, my son's in loue.
He start thereat; but when I further said,
In loue (I say) and with Diana's Maid;
He thought indeed I spoke with Pow'r Diuine,
And me to worship gan himselfe encline:
Which I forbad him; but some teares he shed,
And softly stroakt my beard, and kist my head;
At length burst-out in these; yet am I glad,
And thanke the Gods, that (looke) what hope I had,
It failes me not; and pray'd me saue his life,
And helpe to make this goodly Nymph his wife:
And said he was a dead man else, and swore
He neuer woman knew, or lou'd before.
And wept as 'twere for griefe it should be said,
So stout a man was conquer'd by a Maid.
I comfort him, and feare not, say, my boy;
Wee'll ouercome her, be she ne're so coy;
So you be rul'd; he said, th'row sword and fire
He would obey his father Calasire:
And promis'd me reward, his whole estate.
As thus we talke, one raps hard at my gate,
And prayes me come with speed to Charicles,
Now in the Temple gone about t'appease
Apollo's wrath, for some vnpleasing sight,
And fearfull dreame that he hath had to night.
So more in hope departs Theagenes,
And glad I sent-for was by Charicles.
I sad and sighing finde him, aske him why:
O deerest friend (quoth he) this night had I
Most strange and fearfull dreames, and my Charic
(The rest a sob cut off) continues sicke.
Now shortly run our youth in armes, and she,
Diana's Nymph should their torch-holder be.
To keepe our custome, helpe and vse your skill,
In this I know you can doe what you will.
Vncharme that eye that so bewitcht my guirle,
And wee'll reward you both in gold and pearle.
I must confesse 'twas yet forgot (quoth I)
And time you must afford me, both t'apply
And make the med'cine; yea, the Maid you must
Perswade well of me, that she may me trust.
I will (quoth he) and come now let's goe to her.
No sooner entred at her chamber doore;
But I her sicknesse read could in her face:
Her colour's gone, her all-delighting grace
With pearly show'r allay'd; yet when she saw
Vs two, of whom she stood so much in awe,
Sate vp, compos'd her selfe, began t'aduance,
And call againe her former countenance.
Then Charicles her oft embracing kist,
And said, What ailes mine only childe? what is't
Hath wrought this change in you? and why conceale you
This hurt from me, who may deuise to heale you?
Ha' cheere my guirle, and be no whit dismaid,
This reu'rend Father promiseth his aid:
To cure your sicknesse hold him th'only man;
For, if he will doe what he can, he can.
She nothing said; but made vs well conceiue,
By signe, she yeelded: so we tooke our leaue.
And Charicles me pray'd along the way
To thinke vpon't, and make no more delay:
Especially to worke in her a minde,
To loue a man, as ought all woman-kinde.
I made him answer, such as well him pleas'd,
'Tis nothing hard to cure one so diseas'd.

The Pythian games are past, and now begun
The day wherein the Gallants armed run.
And Cupid President of all the sport,
Will shew, by these two, greatest his effort.
All Greece lookt-on, with City-Iudges seauen;
A Heraulds voyce, that seem'd to rend the Heauen,
Was heard: Come forth, O yee that meane to pace
So swift in armes. At farre-end of the race
Appear'd Chariclia like a morning Star;
As loth her absence should the custome bar,
Or (as I thinke) because, more for her ease,
She thought she might there see Theagenes.
A torch in left, a Palme she held in right,
And her-vpon straight all men cast their sight:
But first Theagenes; for, Loue entire
Is quicke to spie that is his most desire;
And he had time to marke, that heard whilere
What should be done; then whisper'd me i'th'eare
(Of purpose next me set) 'tis shee, 'tis shee:
I bid him peace; then comming forth we see
A Gallant armed point-deuis, that high
Of spirit seem'd, and no man would him trie;
So known he was, and had so great a name,
For winning alwayes, when he ran, the game.
The Iudges send him backe; nor might they giue
The garland him, that had not for it strivve.
He then obtain'd it might proclaimed be,
And 'tis, come who so will: He calleth me,
Then saith Theagenes. How now, quoth I,
Will you aduenture such a icopardie?
It shall be so (quoth he) nor will I stand
To see another from Chariclia's hand
For running swift reward of conquest beare.
But losse (quoth I) and shame I wish you feare.
You say full well, quoth he; but this belieue;
Who nought will vndertake, shall nought achieue.
And, were this Challenger as swift as Larke,
He could not me out-run at such a marke.
With many men in this kinde had I strife,
But neuer was out-ran in all my life;
And loue hath wings: so said, and downe he leapt,
And forward on the Plaine full nimbly stept;
His name and countrey told, and tooke his place.
Was arm'd, and stood all ready for the race.
The people shout at th'vnexpected part,
And wish him well; So moueth eu'rse heart
The comely person: but the Ladies most.
I markt Chariclia how she clear'd the coast
With Sun-bright eye, the Cryer hearing name
What were the men that entred for the game:
To wit, the stout Ormene of Arcady,
And braue Theagenes of Thessaly:
Nor could she keepe her lookes with all her Art,
So mou'd she was: at trumpet sound they start,
And cheeke by cheeke on sudden passing-by
So swiftly ran, they seeme not run, but flie.
How did her panting heart then shake her feet!
How did she stirre by fits her hands and feet!
As if her spirit with his body ran
To helpe him run. And now did eu'rie man,
And most my selfe, with care expect th'euent;
With him as with a sonne my wishes went.

No maruell (Cnemon said) if so't affect
The lookers-on; for I with care expect
That doe but hear't; and quickly tell m'I pray,
If our Theagenes there got the day.
The day (quoth I) yes, and deseru'd the night:
For passing Ormen-by, as 'twere a flight,
And, faining at some stone his foot to clap,
Of purpose fell, but fell iust in her lap.
And when he tooke the Palme, I could perceiue
He closely kist her hand, and with her leaue.
But she went home now sicker than before;
This second enterview enflam'd her more;
As fuell twice at fire: and I that night
Could take no rest, for thinking on our flight.
I saw 'tas meant by sea (by sea and land,
Said th'Oracle) but whither, t'vnderstand,
I must goe learne of that embroydred silke,
Left with her when she left her mothers milke;
Which had, but vnderstood not, Charicles:
To him I goe; but finde him litl'at ease.
How fare you man, quoth I; he wept amaine,
And said (alas) my daught'r is more in paine.
Both you and all the rest (quoth I) depart;
And leaue m'alone with her, to proue mine Art.
A three-foot stoole me set, and bayes withall,
Perfume, and fire; and come not till I call.
'Tis done, and I, now hauing time to play
My Gypsie part, perfume and waue the Bay
Now here, now there, and o're her face and feet:
She wagg'd her head at me, and smil'd to see't;
And said (good father) doe not so deceiue
Your selfe in me: then (Lady) by your leaue,
(Quoth I, and left my tricks, and sat her neere)
I know't full well; but be you of good cheere;
A rife disease it is, and easly cur'd,
Some eye be witching hath your heart allur'd,
And put you to some paine two dayes before;
But, since you saw the race, a great deale more.
I ghesse the man, and saw him cast that eye,
The swift Theagenes of Thessaly.
Whe'r he me hurt, or not, I wish him good,
Quoth she, what is he? Of Achilles blood
They say, quoth I; and so may well be thought,
By face, and stature; beautie, and spirit haught.
But only that he seemes more gentl'and milde,
As if a friend might rule him like a childe.
And hath (I warrant) tooke more hurt than done,
By glance at you; and, if he were my sonne,
So could I wish: Alacke (quoth she) and why?
He hurt me not at all, good Sir; but my
Disease has other cause: Yet thanke I you
(Good father) for so suffring with me now.
If other cause (quoth I) my guirle, reueale it;
And from your father neuer long conceale it.
Disease like new-set plant is; quickly taken,
With ease plucke-vp; but rooted, hardly shaken.
A fathers loue I beare you, and your father
Hath put m'in trust; O therefore then the rather,
What ere it be impart, I vow and sweare
To keepe your cousaile, and effect what ere.

Hereat she paus'd a while, and in her face
Had many changes, all with prettie grace
Declaring doubtfull minde: then said, I pray,
(I cannot yet resolue) forbeare to day:
And after, what it is (if by your spell
You know it not before) I shall you tell.
I rose, and yeelded (as ought yeelded bee)
A time to bashfull Maidens modestee.
Yet take my leaue as men of women vse;
Soone after meet with Charicles: what newes?
Quoth he; all well, quoth I; and eu'n to morrow
She shall be rid of all her griefe and sorrow.
Nay more I tell you; she intends a deed
Will giue you great content, and that with speed.
And ne'rthelesse I wish you counsaile take
Of some Physitian, safer all to make.
If further cause be, call me to my taske,
So part to th'end he then no more should aske.
And walking homeward meet Theagenes
In Temple-close: it did his heart some ease
To see but where she dwelt; I passe beside,
As not perceiuing him, then oh he cri'de,
Good Calasire! the verie man I sought.
I sudden turn'd, as somewhat else I thought,
And said, O braue Theagenes! how braue,
Quoth he, that can of her no fauour haue?
Ah will you still (quoth I) mistrust mine Art,
Which haue so well already plaid my part;
Which haue her ouercome, and made her loue yee?
As, if you stand in doubt still, I shall proue yee.
Y'are th'only man whom she desir's to see.
Then he, what, what? why longer tarrie wee?
And going was a pace, till by the cloke
I pull'd him backe, and thus vnto him spoke.
Nay stay a while, good youth; though as a Son
Of great Achilles, verie swift you run;
The time in counsaile spent is neuer waste;
And this no worke is to be done in haste.
Her father chiefe man is of all the Delph:
Why, then (quoth he) let's goe vnto himselfe,
And for his daughter pray him giue consent;
I trust it shall be no disparagement.
But he (quoth I) her promis'd long agoe
T'his sisters sonne. It shall be for his woe,
His woe, quoth he, and little for his ease,
Who gets Chariclia from Theagenes.
Nor blunt my sword is, nor my hand so weake.
Good Sir, quoth I, what need you thus to speake?
'Tis better done another way: be wise,
And connsaile keeping, doe as I aduise.
Be little seene with me; our enteruiew
May breed suspect; so forc'd he bids m'adiew.

Then Charicles came, thankt, embrac'd, and said,
O th'only man to turne deuoted Maid!
This is your Art, and your great wisdome able:
My guirle is conquer'd, earst vnconquerable:
She's now in loue. Then I looke big, and strut;
And say, though little I gaue, I knew 'twold do't.
But how appeares it? you (quoth he) vs bid
Physitians counsaile aske; and so we did.
When they came in, she turning to the wall,
As if she minded not, or scorn'd them all,
That verse of Homer sung with dewie cheekes,
O great Achilles, chiefest of the Greekes.
The wise Acestin (sure you know the man)
Her caught by th'hand, the malady to scan,
And by the pulse her troubled heart bewray'd;
Then vnto me (good Charicles) he said,
In vaine you call vs; this is no disease,
Whereof our physicke can the fits appease.
O Gods, quoth I; and must I lose my deare
And only guirle! Peace you (quoth he) and heare:
So call'd m'aside, and softly told me thus,
The body, not the minde, is cure for vs:
She's sicke in minde; she loues, and only he,
That made her sicke, will best Physitian be.
So went his way: and I straight hither ran
To you my best Director for the man:
I would it were Alcamenes my lad,
Whom for her husband I appointed had.
'Twere good (quoth I) to try, and let him go
To visit her: he said it should be so,
And thankt me for th'aduice: and yet e're noone
The next day met m'and cry'd, I am vndone:
My daughter's mad; I sent as you aduis'd
Alcamenes, and him she so despis'd,
And turn'd away-from shreeking, as the sight
Of Gorgons head had put her in affright:
Nay, threat with cord to make her selfe away,
Except we left her suddenly that day.
'Twas time to goe: but now, good Calasire,
Proceed t'accomplish that which I require,
And make her leane to loue. I doubt (quoth I)
Lest some malignant counter-sorcerie
Be wrought vpon the silken scarffe you said
Was with her Iewels by that Infant laid.
Forth with he ran and fetcht it me, and so
I lookt thereon, and told him, this to know
Requires some time; then to my hand he sped it,
And I went home and all at leisure readde it.
In letters Æthiopick (not the same
Of common sort, but that the Kings they name,
And verie like the sacred Characters,
That Priests of Ægypt use) thus it refers.

Persina, wofull Queene of Blackmore land,
This wrote her selfe in haste with trembling hand.
I know not how, except by pictures white,
Wherewith my King would haue his chamber dight,
I brought him forth this white-one: but affraid
Of that high crime would to my charge be laid,
Ne durst be known thereof, but said she di'de,
And by a trustie Groome her sent aside,
To saue both her and me from death and shame,
That hate th'Adultresse and the Bastards name.
And now, sweet Babe, in vaine so faire that art,
Whereby thy selfe and I were like to smart,
These jewells and this swath-band I thee giue,
To make thee known, if be thy hap to liue.
Which O! and then thinke on thy Pedegree,
And like a Princesse guard thy chastitee:
Of all thy jewells this Pantarbe stone
Haue care to keepe; 'tis worth all them alone.

And more there was in lamentable fashion
Set downe t'expresse a tender mothers passion,
Which here I skip: but (Cnemon) when I saw
The name Persina, strooke I was with awe:
And in my minde were griefe and ioy at strife;
The griefe, to note this faire young Ladies life,
And what she was indeed, and what suppos'd:
The ioy, to see the Prophecie disclos'd.
That now I thought was meet fit season watch,
And what I did intend with speed dispatch.
To her I goe, and finde her all alone,
Nigh ouercome with languishing and mone;
Yet somewhat cheer'd to see me. Then I said,
I now expect the promise of a Maid;
Which was to tell me what's you griefe: I pray
Make, if you will haue ease, no more delay.
You know my trust, and that I can it know
Though you conceale: But why should you doe so?
She tooke and kist my hand, and said, O father,
Then by your wisdome vnderstand it rather.
Well then (quoth I) you are not th'only she;
But many braue and vertuous Ladies be
That loue a man: and he that hath you heart
(If any worthy be) hath all desart.
This, if you marke, may set your minde at ease;
For what is wanting in Theagenes?
But Sir, quoth she, you speake as if 'twere sure
My father would consent, and th'other endure
To wooe a Maid. Quoth I, to tell you true,
The man is deeper strooke in loue than you.
Then, as for your supposed father, he
Wife vnt'Alcamenes would haue you be.
Alcamenes (quoth she)? first let me die:
For, but Theagenes will no man I.
But why my father call you so, suppos'd?
Then I that written on the silke disclos'd;
And shew'd it her, and askt her if she knew't.
She said such-one she had; but he with-drew't,
To lay-vp safe, lest it be worne or stain'd:
Yet neuer knew before what it contain'd.
Then vp she lookt with courage void of pride;
With count'nance well assur'd, and stedfast e'yd;
And askt, what's to be done? I tell her how
I was my selfe in Blackmoreland ere now,
To learne the tongue, and ioyne Gymnosophie
With Gypsie skill, and Greeke Philosophie.
And that her fathers Court, without obstacle,
Of learned men was chiefest Receptacle.
That there so grew I known to Queene Persine,
And was esteemed as an Arch-Diuine.
She, when she heard that home returne I ment,
Sent for m', and told me why she for me sent;
To wit (she durst but vnt'a stranger tell)
A childe she had, which fare it ill or well,
Dead, liuing, where, faine would she know, and pray'd,
That with my skill therein I would her aid.
And told your case, and said she could not finde
That any such now liu'd in land of Inde;
But made me first, to keepe her counsaile, sweare.
I learne of Isis that you liue, and where.
Your mother then me prayes in any wise,
I cast would how to finde you, and deuise
To bring you home: and if you come in heale,
To King Hydaspes she will all reueale,
Now time hath well approu'd her loyaltie;
And, for succession of his royaltie,
Glad will he be to finde vnhoped heire,
And doubt not you are his, although so faire.
This all I knew, though nothing said, before
I got the silke, that might confirme it more.
Then ere against your will Alcamenes
Begin to worke, or father Charicles,
With vs your Parents, and your countrey seeke,
And there be married to this noble Greeke;
Remembring what, of him and of your selfe,
Was prophesi'd by th'Oracles of Delph.
Then sith (quoth she) that we this shall acheiue,
The Gods declare, you say, and I beleiue;
Shew how I pray. I say, make you a show
To like Alcamenes. Alas you know
'Tis hard, quoth she, to seeme loue that I hate,
Or, but Theagenes, like any Mate.
Yet, sith I yeeld me to the Gods and you,
(Suppose I could so counterfeit) say how
I may come-out of danger, once got in.
To that I answer'd, care not you a pin:
That leaue me. Something, ere woman knowes,
She boldly doth; but knowing it fore slowes.
Comply with Charicles, and be not nice:
He will doe nothing without my aduice
She wept, I left her, met wit Charicles,
So sad, as if his heart had no whit ease;
How now! quoth I; you cause haue to be glad;
Your daught'rs well, and why are you so sad?
I dreampt (quoth he) that from Apollo's hand
An Eagle came and snatcht my guirle t'a land
I know not how farre hence; where shadowes were
Me thought in stead of men. When this I heare,
I knew the meaning; but him tell it thus;
(T'auoid suspect of that was meant by vs)
Apollo's Eagle signifies that ho,
The God, whose Priest you are, will mindfull be
To send her that you wish; and, in few words,
A man excelling men, as Eagle birds.
Now marri'd once, she must your bosome leaue,
And, till she giue vp ghost, vnt' husband cleaue.
For that is meant I know by shadow of men,
Whereto she goes at length. To blame you then,
To blame you are, yet are you not the first,
That of the Gods good meaning make the worst.
Wherefore apply we to the better sense,
And make her willing with our conference.
My part is done, and now must you doe yours.
How, how, I pray? (quoth he) for yet she loures
(As much as can that face, quoth I) to heare
Alcamenes is her intended Feere:
If they (quoth I) be faln-out, what attones
A woman more than pearle and precious stones?
Such tokens carrie you her in his name;
And if it please her not, be mine the blame.
He did as I aduisd, and brought hereft
The jewels all that Queene Persina left
Laid-out with her, and said Alcamenes
In token of his loue had sent her these.
She plaid her part well, and when this I knew,
'Twas time to giue Theagenes his Q.
So did, and while I went to sacrifice;
Thus me preuenting Phœbus did aduise:
Away now strangers call. And some I saw,
But knew not, there according to their Law,
When some what they had offred, merrie making,
Carouses filling, emptying, giuing, taking.
And these enuite me. There I sate a while,
And ate, and dranke: then said I with a smile,
Sith your enuitement doth me thus embolden,
Pray let me know to whom I am beholden.
We Tyrians are, saith one, for Carthage bound,
With wares of Blackmore, and of Indy ground:
To morrow meane we plow the bracky Maine,
If winde thus hold, and all together sayen
To that effect. Then I, yet if you may,
And are content to tarrie but a day,
(No more I craue to sottle things at Delph,
And for the way) Ile be your Fare my selfe.
We will, say they; for with so graue Diuine,
We more securely shall passe ore the Brine.
I left them set then all on merrie pin,
And each with other dancing Matakin;
(Of some call'd Anticke, as it well may bee,
It so presents old inciuilitee,
With rudely making faces, body wrying;
Now vp, now downe, on this and that side prying)
And bid my younglings ready make to go
Next day at eu'n. This night it fell out so,
That, ere the second Cocke was heard to crow,
A band of Thessall youths, whereof now know
Theagenes was chiefe, gan so to rore,
That all the Citie wak'd out of the snore
Of soundest sleepe: yet no man durst arise,
Affrighted were they so with hideous cries,
And clattring armour, such as shooke the ground;
And made Pernassus hill returne the sound
With doubled eccho: but amid the noyse,
There comes a troope of these vnruly boyes,
Breakes-ope Chariclia's doore with many a stroke,
(Of purpose left so, that it might be broke)
And takes the Ladie, litle saying nay,
And with her packet carries her away.
The rest the countrey flie; but he and she,
The louing paire, come hand in hand to me,
Where was appointed: Saue vs father crie;
And on her cheekes ran sudden blushing die,
As for a fault. I comfort them, and will
They keepe them there, vnseene of others, till
I come againe, and going was; but she
Fast held my cloke, and said, what! leaue you me
With him to keepe? O father, doe not so;
'Tis treason-like: I will not let you go
Before you make him solemnly to sweare,
That now and euermore he will forbeare
To touch me wantonly, till we be wedde,
And may enioy a lawfull marriage-bed:
Agreed and done. Then I to Charicles;
His house in tumult finde without appease,
For daughters losse. And what should now be done
They cannot tell, though all vnto him runne.
For all the beauteous virgin held so deare,
They would reuenge the fact, but know not where.
My masters then (quoth I) this sudden sit,
(What?) hath it quite bereft you of your wit?
Before the rape of Hellen, or Europe,
A beauteous Ladie was of war the scope.
Take armes, and follow this vnruly Crew
Of Thessall youths; 'tis they haue wronged you:
And specially that one (friend Charicles)
With whom you made m'acquaint, Theagenes.
So made them bend their force another way,
While we to ship, and on the surges play,
From Delphi safe-conuey'd by this complot:
But what was after done there know I not.

Now let vs rest a while, though (Cnemon) you
Can hold-out well I see. Quoth he, nor now
Should I desire you stay: but that I heare
A noise below; or me deceiues mine eare.
I cannot heare so quicke (quoth Calasire)
Or for mine age, or for my set desire
To tell this storie. But, me thinkes, I see
Our Land-lord Nausicles come vp; 'tis hee.
What haue yee done, Sir? Nausicles repli'de,
Far better than we thought: but lookt aside,
And, seeing Cnemon, askt what was the man.
A Greeke, quoth Calasire; Hee's welcome than,
Quoth Nausicles; and then said Calasire.
But needs we must of your successe enquire.
Know now but this, quoth he; that I haue found
A better Thisbe than I did propound.
'Tis time to rest: and so he went to bed.
But Cnemon lay all night with troubled head,
For name of Thisbe; thought in Gypsiland
The dead reuiue so soone; and, t'vnderstand
The truth, arose, and groping in the darke,
At length t'a womans wofull crie doth harke.
And thus she said; O wretched I, that, out
Of Spoylers hands escap'd, now had no doubt
T'attaine my libertie, and death acquit
With presence of my loue; yet faile of it,
A slaue become againe. But O that hee
May liue, and keepe himselfe from bondage free,
And sometime on his Thisbe thinke! for so
Now must he call me whe'r he will or no.

These words strooke Cnemon in so ghastly feare,
That all in haste he gate to bed, and there
With chattring teeth and quaking legs he lay,
Till Calasiris askt what did him fray.
That wicked Tib (quoth he) whom with mine eyes
I saw lye slaine, yet liues, and yonder cryes.
But he poore wretch deceiu'd was, and afraid
Of that which known will hold him best apaid;
Or make him laugh vntill he fret a rib;
For this Chariclia was, and not the Tib.

It thus befell: when in the mazie Den
Thermute and Cnemon left the Louers; then
They chastly clip and kisse, forgetting day,
Till at the length the man began to say,
Sweet heart, I know it is our most content
To liue together still; but sith th'euent
Of mens affaires vncertaine is; and we
By some misfortune may disseuer'd be,
(Which Gods forbid) let each a watch-word haue,
And priuie signe to vse, as need shall craue.
She lik'd the motion well, and both agree,
That he should Pythius write, and Pythia shee,
On eu'rie crosse-way-stone and monument,
Or famous Image, by the way they went,
To right, to left, to what towne, where, and when;
That so the sooner they may meet aged.
And for some signes, in case by crosse or quame
They could nor write, nor speake, he beare a paume,
And she a taper: yet a fearre had hee
Receiu'd by tuske of wilde Bore on his knee:
And she of Iewels euer bore this one;
Her fathers ring with rich Pantarbe stone.
And this of all the confirmation is,
They kisse and cry, and kisse and cry, and kisse;
Among the riches left by theefe in Caue,
Although the choice of many there they haue;
(Behold consent of either Princely minde)
Th'ill-gotten treasure all they leaue behinde,
And take but of their owne a part, and goe,
She with her packe, he with her sheafe and bow.
When to the Lake they came, and were about
To take a boat, they see an armed rout,
With many boats, come rowing toward th'isle;
And daunted much thereat stood still a while,
Till she for feare began to run aside,
And praid in Caue they might againe them hide:
Yet as they went were met withall by some,
Before vnseene that ore the Lake were come.
But loe, a faire and beautifull aspect
Will many times a barb'rous minde affect.
A cruell hand began to strike, and staid
Amaz'd at sight of such a beauteous Maid,
Or Goddesse so disguis'd, as then was thought;
And therefore to the Leader be they brought,
As all they found; his name was Mitranes,
Lieutenant vnto Lord Orondates;
That had all Ægypt in his gouerning.
Vnder the mightie Babylonish King.
And he against the Robbers of that Lake,
By Nausicles was hir'd for Thisbes sake.
And though the suttle Merchant saw full well
This was not she, but did her farre excell;
To put a tricke vpon the Don, he said,
O this is she my Thisbe, my faire Maid;
Embrac'd and kist, and whispring told her how,
To saue her selfe, she must be Thisbe now.
He spoke in Greeke which she well vnderstood,
And hoping well it might be for her good,
When Muranes her asked what's her name,
Him answer'd Thisbe: yea the verie same,
Said Nausicles, and kist the Captaines hand,
And call'd him man of fortunate command.
The Souldiour puft with praise, and gull'd with name,
Although he wisht himselfe so faire a Dame;
Yet, for reward that he before had tooke,
To Merchant gaue her with repenting looke.
Then on Theagenes his eyes he bent,
And said to Babylon he should be sent:
For, for his pers'nage and well featuring,
Well might he wait vpon the mightie King.
Then him with conuoy, and with letters sent
T'Orondates, and this was their content.
This Grecian youth is of so comely grace,
That I him thought deserue a better place,
Than vnder me. I thinke, like him, not one
This day attends the King of Babylon.
Wherefore (my Lord) him please you thither send,
And both our duties to that God commend.

Now broke the day, and longing Calasire,
With fearfull Cnemon, gan themselues attire:
Yet halfe vnready goe to Nausicles,
And forsome further newes will him disease;
Who told them all that I now said before;
And how he got a virgin for a whore:
Yea, passing her as much for beautifull,
As doth a Goddesse passe a common Trull.
Then they began how matter stood conceiue,
And pray'd they might but see her with his leaue.
He cals her in, she muffled doth appeere,
And looking downe; he bids her haue good cheere:
She shewes her face; at once is seene and sees,
Is known and knowes; at Calasiris knees
Fals downe and cries, O father! he likewise,
O daughter! Cnemon, O Chariclia! cries:
That Nausicles the while vpon them gaz'd,
And at so strange encounter stood amaz'd;
Whom Calasiris spoke-to thus; O frend,
Though I not able, God shall thanke y'i'th'end.
You saue my daughter, you me giue the sight,
Wherein of all the world I most delight.
But, O Chariclia, what hath thee bereft
Of thy Theagenes, where hast him left?
O how this question dampt the royall guirle!
She could not speake, till drops of liquid pearle
Fell from her Diamond eyes t'asswage her heart;
And then told how their fortune was to part,
As said before. Then they from Nausicles
Desire to heare more of Theagenes.
I can but tell (quoth he) and you but heare;
For you are poore, and it will cost you deare
Him to redeeme; the Babylonian
Is couetous, yea more than any man.
Chariclia whisper'd Calasire i'th' eare,
And said, we haue enough about vs here;
Him promise what you will. Then Calasire
Said, Wise men haue as much as they desire
On iust occasion (fearing to detect
Chariclia's offer, lest it breed suspect)
Then tell vs what is he that hath our frend;
With helpe of Gods we shall him please, who send
What ere we need: so, when you list (he said)
You can be rich; and thereat smiling staid,
And said againe; them will I you beleiue,
When for your daughter you me ransome giue:
You know your Merchants money seeke and scan
As much as any Babylonian.
I doe, quoth I; but 'tis no Merchant feat
To grant so soone: you should me make entreat,
For this my daughter. Sir (quoth he) be bold;
Your happinesse I would not long with-hold.
Moreouer, now mine offring will I make,
Come you and yours, and pray for me, and take
What ere the Gods doe send: O, doe not iest,
Quoth Calasire: but on their God heads rest.
So, when you will, begin, and we shall ioyne;
And you i'th'end shall see we want no coyne.
Chariclia t'offring neuer had beene brought
With Merchants daughter, but because she thought.
for her fit time it was the Gods to please,
And pray vnto them for Theagenes.
Then goe they to the Templ' of Mercurie,
The most of-Merchants-honour'd Deitie.
When Calasiris th'entrals had beheld,
And saw good fortune bad-with entermeld,
As did his looke declare; he thrust his hand,
And tooke, as 'twere from vnd'r a fire-brand,
A Iewell rich, and said, O Nausicles,
See what the Gods haue giuen; will this you please,
For this my daughters ransome? 'twas a ring
That sometime wore Hydaspes, Blackmore King.
The circle was fine gold, and siluer mist;
The Pale an Æthiopick Amethyst;
As big as Maidens eye, and of a vaine
Beyond the best of Britanie or Spaine;
And turn'd about, it sheds a golden streame
On each thing nigh, and from a deeper beame.
And thus engrau'n it had; a shepherds boy,
On hillocke set, there seemes to play and toy,
(Such leisure haue they) while his sheepe, him by,
Some share the tender grasse, some basking lye;
As 'twere in Sun-shine of that flaming stone,
And some in companies, and some alone.
The wanton Lambs there some start vp and leape,
Some all together run upon a heape,
As dansing to the boy, that seemes to play
Vpon his pipe, and harkning to the lay.
They seeme all golden-fleeced by the gleame
All ore them cast from th'Amethysticke beame.

Thus was the ring: Which Nausicles admiring.
Said (Calasiris) 'twas not my desiring
To make you pay so for your guirle, I ment
Her freely giue: but sith this ring is sent
From Pow'r Diuine, and 'tis not good you say
We such refuse, I take it for to day,
As sent by Mercurie my greatest frend
Of all the Gods, whom I serue most anend.
Then tooke a glasse of water cleere, and said,
This (Calasire) vnt'eu'rie Nymph and Maid
That is so cleere; and this to them I drinke,
Because your daughter such one is, I thinke.
For loe, no musicke, nor no dansing shee
Among the rest delights-in, but on knee
For her Beloued praying is; that he
May soone and safely meet her; yet haue we
Now leisure good to heare, that oft had I
Desire to know, your wandring historie.
Put-off no longer: Cnemon prayd the same.
Then Calasire; To sacrifice we came
Not telling tales. But sith you both desire
To know my roming, to the ship of Tyre
I must returne; wherein we sail'd from Delph,
Theagenes, my daughter, and my selfe;
Of Tyrian Merchant-venturers a troope;
And merrily we ran, with winde in poope,
That day and night; and all in safetie and ease,
With iron share broke vp the fallow seas:
The Straight of Calidon we passe ere night,
And of the sharp-point Islands lose the sight.
Next day betime, with winde now turn'd aslant,
Cast ank'r, and land before the towne of Zant;
To winter there: But, for the rude resort
Of Saylers running to and fro the Port,
I thought the ship not safe; nor yet the towne,
Lest our escape might haply there be knowne:
And, other harbour seeking, light vpon
An aged Fisher-man, that on a Stone
Sat mending broken nets: I said, God speed,
Good father; can you tell a man, if need,
Of some good Inne here by? They all to rags
Were broke (quoth he) against some hidden crags.
What's that to me (quoth I)? you shall doe well,
Or me receiue your selfe, or else me tell,
Where else I may be lodg'd; 'twas not my fault,
Quoth he; Tyrrhenus is not so assault
With blinde and doting age; they were my wags,
Who cast in place vnknown among the crags.
I then perceiue the man was deafe, and cry
In's eare aloud; God speed you (Sir) said I:
And can you helpe vs some good lodging finde?
God speed you too (quoth he) and, if your minde
You serue thereto, come soiourne here with me;
Except you many and ouer-curious be.
But three (quoth I) my selfe and children twaine.
No more, but one (quoth he) with me remaine:
Mine elder children marri'd with my purse
Are gone: two boyes are left me, with their Nurse:
The mother dead: you shall be welcome to vs;
And seeme a man that may some pleasure doe vs.
We come and there full well are entertain'd;
By day we all together still remain'd.
At night we laid Chariclia with the nurse;
And glad was she her lodging was no worse.
Alone Theagenes, alone lay I;
And old Tyrrhenus with his youngest frie:
Sit all at boord the same, and well we fare,
With fish he got at sea, and with our share.
Laid-out on such achates, as market by
Did eu'rie weeke afford; and pleasantly
So liu'd we there a while as heart could wish,
And went sometime to fowle, sometime to fish.
For th'old man was prepar'd for either sport:
But pleasant times (alas) are overshort.
Who long can lye at ease in Fortunes lap?
Mis-hap haue once, and dacer feare mis-hap.
Chariclia's beautie makes tumultuarie
This verie place so meane and solitarie.
For he of Tyre, that won the Rythian game,
Now haughtie growen by that renowned name,
And more, because we sail'd with him in ship,
Her loues, and will not this occasion slip.
With tedious suit he daily beats mine eares;
And that the goods and ship are his he sweares;
And saith his all shall hers be during life,
If I my daughter let him take to wife.
I pouertie pretend; yet say that she
Shall for no wealth so far be sent from me.
He saith he will her person more account.
Than any dowrie, though it should amount
To many talents; and his kin forsake,
And whither so we will his voyage make,
To dwell with vs. I saw his feruent heat
On flat deniall might some mischiefe threat,
And promise that in Ægypt once arriu'd,
It should be done, if well the iourney thriu'd.
He thus put-off, a while some rest we haue;
But in the necke of this another waue
Begins t'arise: Tyrrhenus neere the shore
Me tooke to walke, and much protesting swore,
For loue to me and mine he will reueale
That much concern'd vs, neither could conceale.
A Pyrat ship (quoth he) beyond the Cape
There lies in wait, your Tyrian hulke to rape.
Looke to your selfe and yours: I thanke, and pray
Him tell me how he knew't. But yesterday
(Quoth he) the Master-Pyrat askt me whan
Your ship puts-off; Trachinus was the man.
I say, I know not; but (Sir) why I pray
Demand you this? if be so bold I may.
(They loue me, Calasire, I dare you tell;
I bring them victails; for they pay me well;
And poore is house that hath not much to spare
For poore, for theefe, for waste, and want of care)
I loue the Maid (quoth he) your Soiourner,
And meane to set vpon them all for her.
To know his whole designe then thus I said,
What need you fight with Tyrians for the Maid
That is with me? before she goes abord.
There may you take her neuer drawing sword.
'Tis for your sake (quoth he) that I foreslow;
For Pyrats loue their friends: yet further know,
I two things aime at, wife and wealth to who;
I lose at sea, if I at land begin.
Consider'd well, quoth I; but, for the thing,
I thinke they will not goe vntill the spring.
So part we: now this villanous intent,
I hope your care and wisdome will preuent.
What did I then? It was my chance to meet
The Tyrian Merchant walking in the street.
He gaue occasion, asking my good will,
As heretofore; I tell, not all that ill,
But what I thought was meet; how earnestly
A great man of this countrey did apply
Himselfe to get my daughter for his wife:
But I had rather, so you lead your life
With vs in Ægypt, as you promised;
And for your wealth, that you (my Lord) her wed.
And therefore wish, before our minde be crost
By force or otherwise, we leaue the Coast.
He lik'd the motion well, and, though too soone
He said it was, yet hauing light of Moone,
Resolu'd that night be gone in any sort,
Although he got but int'another Port.
I tell my children, not Tyrrhene a word;
And after twy-light get vs all aboord.
Yet by the way our Host it gan perceiue,
And each of other kindly tooke our leaue.
The Moone kept counsaile, blabbed not our flight,
Yet gaue vs leaue to see our way by night.
With armed beake we cut the fomy brees,
Behinde the land, beside vs flie the trees.
The brother gan to quench the sisters light;
And day appearing droue a way the night:
The winde that fill'd our saile now gan to stoope,
And Pyrats ship descri'd is from the poope
To follow vs, and this and that way twine
As if our hulke had tow'd her with a line.
A man of Zant, that wistly gan it marke,
Cryes-out Trachine it is, I know the Barke;
Prepare to fight or yeeld; he comes apace,
And all this day hath had our ship in chace.
We though becalm'd, yet seeme with tempest shooke,
So stand w'amas'd, and one at other looke;
Run vp and downe, before, behinde, beside;
Some put on armes, some vnder decke them hide;
Some leaue the ship, and get into the boat
To make away: Theagenes, full hoat
Set on to fight, beseech we both to stay,
And hardly keepes him backe Chariclia;
Desiring each might either liue or dye
In others armes; but on a point thinke I
That might vs helpe (now knowing 'twas Trachine;
That would not rashly kill or me, or mine)
And tooke effect. For when the Pyrate gaue
Vnt'all men leaue, that would their person saue,
In single clothes to leaue the ship, and go
Aboord the boat: we with the rest doe so.
He then Chariclia taking by the hand,
Saith, vnto you (sweet Lady) this command
No whit belongs, but all is for your sake,
That I this war and voyage vndertake.
Then feare you not; but be of heartie cheere;
For all is yours and mine that you see heere.

Then she (as wisdome was, obseruing case)
Of sorrow-damped looke recals the grace;
And tisie-smiling said; now Heau'n be thankt,
That I among these others am not rankt;
But shall I thinke indeed you louing be?
Grant this my first request, and keepe with me
This same my brother, that my father deere;
For them-without I cannot be of cheere:
So wept, entreated, fell vpon her knees
Embracing his; which when the Rouer sees
Therewith delighted, purposely delay'th
The grant a while, and then her raising, saith;
Your broth'r I giue you, likely man to stead vs
In feats of armes; and th'-old man too may lead vs,
Sometime by counsell, which way best to take;
Yet both I grant for your owne only sake.

By this the Sun had ran his dayes careere,
And eu'ning signes of rising winde appeere:
That rais'd a sudden storme; when they in fine,
To spoyle our ship, had left their brigandine;
And thus surprised knew not what to doe;
For, want of skill is worse storme of the two.
Though little pinnace, whose each rope they knew,
Well could they rule how ere the Brothers blew;
To guide our ship, yet all with trembling hearts,
Are faine to play these vnacquainted parts.
Some to the poup, and some run to the prow;
And steere they know not what, they know not how:
Some awkly draw the cords, and some them loose;
And some vntie, where they should make a noose;
Some beat their brests, and teare their hairie scalps,
To see the sea like Pireneis and Alps.
The wallowing hils now vp to Heau'n vs mount,
Now cast vs headlong to the waters fount.
And on the sides of that our floting grot,
Thump, thump, as loud as charge of Engine-shot.
The Pyrats barke, with salt sea-water drunke,
Her cable frat, and thrice turn'd round and sunke.
And we no more, than headlesse Common-weale,
Where all men may with all things entermefle,
And no man will obey, but all command,
In time of greatest danger, like to stand.
Yet shift the Pyrats made as long as light
From Heau'n appear'd, though like to drowne at night:
At night as darke as pitch, saue enterflashes
Of lightning mixt with fearfull thunder-crashes.

Thus then, and next day troubled were the seas,
And they therewith: which gaue me time and ease,
To thinke on our affaires: But aft'r a while,
The tempest o're, we safe embock the Nile.
The rest are glad, but we lament the more;
That rather wisht be drown'd, than come at shore,
In danger still of Pyrats proud command,
Who shew'd his foule intent new come to land.
For making shew with sacrifice to please,
And for their safetie thanke the God of Seas;
To countrey sends he men with store of coyne
For much prouision; lands the Tyrian wine;
With goodly Tissue Carpets spreds the tables,
Some on the ground, and some on roules of cables.
And sets on siluer-bowles, and cups of gold:
All for his marriage-feast, as he me told.
When (Sir) quoth I, may't please you celebrate
The same with all such complements and state,
As place and time affords; your ship may be
Bride-chamber then, and none there come but she
The Bride her selfe, to dresse and make her fit;
And for the time all others thence acquit,
When I haue there beene first, and taken care
She nothing want that might her well prepare.
He likt th'aduice, and gaue-out straight command
It should be so: Theagenes by th'hand
I take, and both vnto Chariclia goe,
And finde her almost ouercome with woe.
Then children, said I, this is not the way
T'aucid our present danger; what I say
Marke well and follow. So I both aduise,
And ending went to play another prize
With him that was the second of the Crew,
Pelorus call'd; and said (my sonne) for you
Good newes I haue, my daughter loues you well;
If how t'auoid Trachinus you can tell,
And like of her, shee'll be your wedded wife:
Than marrie him sh'had rather lose her life:
But time is short: the cheere he doth pretend
For sacrifice, is for that other end.

Well, feare you not, quoth he; I was of minde
T'haue mou'd the same; and could no season finde.
But, now I know we thus agree in heart,
Trachinus neuer shall her from me part.
I haue a reason will our fellowes charme;
A sword as good as his, as strong an arme.
Thus hauing done, in haste, t'auoid suspect,
I turne to them, and further them direct.
Soone after sit we downe, and when I saw
The Pyrats well in wine, Pelore I claw
By sleeue, of purpose sitting next his side,
And aske him, haue you seene the gallant Bride?
He told me no. Then closely make a flip
(For 'tis forbid, quoth I) into the ship:
There shall you see (yet haste, and doe but see;
Lest otherwise take hurt both you and shee)
My daughter so attir'd in gold and pearle,
As might become the Bride of Prince or Earle.
He goes and sees her clad in Delphick pall;
(For that for triumph, or for funerall,
Was then put on) returning more on fire,
Now both with emulation and desire.
And set at boord, quoth he, why haue not I
That me belongs by Law of Pyracie,
For entring first this hulke? then said Trachine,
The parts yet are not made, nor yours, nor mine,
Nor anies here; nor yet vs told haue you,
What thing you claime: quoth he, then will I now.
The captiue Maid I claime. Trachine repli'de,
I her except, take what you will beside.
Then breake y'our Law, quoth he; quoth th'other, no,
But on the ground of other Law I go,
Which giues the Captaine choyce; and for I meane
My wife to make her: this cuts you off cleane;
And rest content, or this (and vp he rose
With massie pot in hand) shall crosse your nose.
Thus I (my fellowes, quoth Pelorus than)
Thus shall you be rewarded euerie man.

And after this (beleeue me Nausicles)
These men were like the sudden tossed seas:
So all on tumult run they foolish blinde,
When wine and anger stirr'd-vp had their minde.
And some with th'one, as equall share to make;
And some, for gouernment, with th'other take.
But as Trachinus at Pelorus flung,
Pelorus him at heart with dagger stung.
Though he were dead, in his or th'others right
Partaking still, the rest continue fight;
Are strooke, and strike like mad and drunken fooles,
With stones, with clubs, with tables, pots and stooles,
I closely stole away, and on a hill,
My selfe in safetie, looke on others ill.
Theagenes and his Chariclia
Fought also both, as I them told the way.
With sword in hand at first he tooke a part,
But holpe the weaker still, that equall Mart
Might all consume: and she made many grone
With arrowes shot from ship at all but one.
And now was left but he and that Pelore
At single combat: she had spent her store;
Or if a shaft remain'd, what might it boot?
For feare of hitting wrong she durst not shoot;
So neere their bodies were, and mouing still
At combat close: Theagenes she will,
But cannot helpe with hand; yet at her charme
Of Courage man, he smote-off Pelors arme.
The bloud so sprang-out after grisly stripe,
As water from a broken Condit-pipe.
This made him put the sturdie theefe to flight,
And chase him far: what more was done that night,
But that Theagenes return'd againe,
Of me vnseene, and lay among the slaine,
I cannot tell; For I continu'd still,
And durst not stir in darke from off that hill;
Chariclia knowes: for on the morne him by
I saw her sit, and him as like to dye.
A troope of theeues them carri'd both away,
With goods from out the ship. I thought to stay
For fitter time to helpe them, hauing scope,
(Whereof, as then, I cleane was out of hope)
And now with your good helpe, good Nausicles,
(The Gods reward you) freed is one of these.
So said, and wept; but Nausicles repli'de,
And said, they shall not th'other from you hide:
To morrow will we know of Mitranes,
If he be sent yet vnt' Orondates,
As was design'd. Done is this offring-feast,
And Nausicles his daughter with the rest
From out the Temple going are away;
But Calasiris mist Chariclia;
And sought with Cnemon, and at length her found,
Where shet' Apollo kneeled on the ground,
His Image feet embracing, fast asleepe;
And when they wak'd her she began to weepe:
And said she drempt that her Theagenes
Had far to goe, and more by land than seas.
They comfort her, and tell her their intent;
And all with Nausicles to lodging went.

The Princesse lay with daught'r of Nausicles,
A faire young maid, yet little tooke her ease;
And Cnemon thought it long with Calasire,
Before they went Theagenes t'enquire.
They raise their Host therefore by breake of day,
And him to Mitranes conduct them pray.
Content is he; faine would Chariclia
Then with them goe; but they perswade her stay,
Her promising, before they far remoue,
To come againe, and bring her lookt-for Loue.
So left her doubtfull, whether to be sad
For their depart, or, for their promise glad.

Now when they neere approach'd the banks of Nile,
There rusht them by a monstrous Crocodile.
A Serpent strongly scal'd, head, backe, and legge,
And twelue yards long, yet bred but of an egge.
Note when he gapes, his lower chap stands fast,
And th'vpper moues, some fiue foot long and past.
And this deuourer hauing fed his fill,
Will suffer Trochilos with slender bill
To picke his teeth, a bird no bigger, then
The little Titmouse, or the Iynny Wren:
Will follow such as run away, and run
From such as follow, both in shade and Sun.

Now these Ægyptians vs'd to such a sight,
Were nothing mou'd; but Cnemon much affright,
Start backe, and ready was to run away:
Whereat the Merchant laught; and Priest gan say,
I thought (Sir Cnemon) nothing could you feare
But in the darke, as th'other nights Bug-beare.
What's that (quoth Nausicles)? then Calasire,
To passe the time, and satisfie desire,
Him told how Cnemon tooke Chariclia
For Thisbe, when at Chemmis first she lay.
Then Nausicles could laugh no more, but thought
Why name of Thisbe so on Cnemon wrought;
And askt the cause whereof he was to seeke,
And so to laughter now prouokt the Greeke:
Who said, behold how strange a name is this,
To moue my minde so first, and now so his.
I thought our noble Host had beene more stout,
Than now be dampt, who late could others flout.
Ha'done, ha'done (quoth Nausicles) you have
Reueng'd your selfe enough: but let me craue;
By all that may to you most pleasing bee,
And by the Gods of Hospitalitee;
This name of Thisbe whence it is, and why
You turn't vpon me now so meerily.
Then Calasiris, Cnemon, time you see
Requires you satisfie both him and mee.
Then let vs heare your storie from the sourse:
For well is trauell eased with discourse.
He yeelds, and tels them what not many weekes
He told before vnto his fellow Greekes.
And how with them acquaint he grew, and frend,
Among the theeues; and of that Thisbes end.
And left out nought that was not, as their owne,
To Nausicles and Calasiris knowne.
It mou'd the Merchant so, that he full well
Could finde in heart the rest of her to tell,
And of himselfe; confest and said, 'tis I
That was that Merchant then of Naucratie;
And brought her out of Greece. Here one they meet
With Nausicles acquaint of Chemmis-street;
Who told them newes; that where as Mitranes
Had sent a young man vnt' Orondates,
To serue the great King; he by Thyamis
Now Chiefe of Bessans intercepted is;
And Mitranes with all his force is gone,
In iust reuenge their Towne to set vpon:
So past them by in hast. Then Nausicles
Perswades returne; and for Theagenes,
Because the iourney longer was, to goe
Prouided better: they determine so,
And comming home, at doore Chariclia found
Them looking-for: for, Loue is like a hound
That for his master waits. But, when she saw
They brought him not, she gan her haire to claw,
And tore asunder Natures finest thred,
And wept, and cry'd, alas my Loue is dead!
What all alone, and, as you went, returne?
O tell me quickly, lest I longer mourne
With griefe suspended. 'Tis a courtesie
Not to delay report of miserie.
Why doe you (then quoth Cnemon) so foretell
The worst, and false? Theagenes is well;
And told her how, and where. O blame her not,
Quoth Calasiris; felt you but a iot
Of loue so true, you would her soone excuse:
For such are ne're content with hearsay-newes:
But thinke they cannot each from oth'r absent
Without some sad and fearfull accident.
When such as you (Sir Cnemon) well I know
So speake of Loue as neuer bent his bow.
Aske Saints how faire in Heau'n, for they can tell;
And aske ye Fiends how foule it is in hell.
Then like a father led her in by th'hand,
And there not long they either sit or stand;
But Nausicles, to put them out of dump,
And hauing some thing else there with to iump,
Prepar'd a feast that night with cheere and wine,
And made his daughter more than wonted fine.
And toward banquets end them spoke-to thus;
As heretofore so shall be still with vs;
My welcome guests (that so you are I call
The Gods to witnesse, and continue shall,
If please you stay) what I at sea or land
Haue any where, 'tis all at your command;
Not now as guests; but as my deerest frends.
But know my trade on Merchandise depends;
My ship my plow is, and the Southerne windes
Me call to Greece: then let me know your mindes;
That whether here I leaue, or with me lead you,
I may my voyage frame some way to stead you.

The Priest of Memphis, after pause repli'de,
Good Nausicles, haue happie winde and tide!
Let all the Gods of Merchandise attend you,
And home with gaine full-fraught in safetie send you!!
That, stay or goe we, doeso perfectly
The lawes obserue of hospitalitie.
Vnwilling we to part from such a frend,
Yet must be gone, you know, and for what end.
Thus much for me, and for Chariclia;
What Cnemon meanes to doe I cannot say.
The Greeke, about to speake, with sob is staid;
At last with sighs and bitter weeping said;
O this vncertaine state of humane life!
How full of doubt, and variable strife!
Depriu'd of fathers house, of Countrey and Towne
So deere to me, still rome I vp and downe?
Not long it is, a plurall scarce of weekes,
Since hope I had, with such two noble Greekes,
(Though hard put-to, as I) to finde some ease;
And shall I now bereaue my selfe of these?
What shall I doe? or which way shall I bend?
Tell (O) that can! I am at my wits-end.
To leaue Chariclia, can it but displease,
Before she finde-out her Theagenes?
Or if I seeke with her, O who can tell
How, where to finde him; when all will be well?
So shall I wander still: what if I craue
Of you, sweet Lady (shall I pardon haue?)
To take th'occasion giu'n by Nausicles,
And home returne, now call vs winde and seas?
Though helpe I little, I willing shall me show;
True seruants loue will creepe wher't cannot goe.
She had perceiu'd (and quickly, by your leaue,
A Louer can a Louers minde perceiue)
That Cnemon lou'd the daught'r of Nausicles;
And that it did the father greatly please:
Wherefore she said; I beare you thankfull heart,
Sir Cnemon, for your thus far friendly part;
And gladly shall requite it: for the rest,
I see no reason you be further prest
To follow mine affaires; but minde your owne,
And take th'occasion now so fitly showne.
My fath'r and I to th'end shall hold-out still;
Though no man else assist, the Gods yet will.

This hearing, Nausicles began to pray,
All good successe attend Chariclia,
So wise, so gracious! and (Cnemon) now
Vnt' Athens going, neuer grieue it you,
That Tib you bring not, sith you bring the man,
Who tooke her thence: and if you like it can
As well as I, now well I know your straine,
You shall both house, and land, and wife attaine
With dowrie great, this same mine only childe;
He gaue a quicke consent thereto, and smil'de;
And tooke her straight, of purpose ready drest,
And turn'd the supper to a marriage-feast.
While all the rest attending were the Bride,
The Princesse vnt' her chamber flipt aside;
And shut the doore, and (as she were distract)
Her rayment tore, and haire about her shakt.
Then wept, lamented, howled, beat her brest,
And said, this danse becomes my marriage-feast.
My bed-fellow Nausiclia from me taken?
And I now left alone, of all forsaken?
Is Cnemon married now at full hearts ease?
And still in bondage my Theagenes?
At their successe (O Gods) I not repine;
Though grieue you make no better his and mine.
But O Theagenes my sweet delight,
And only care, to thee I giue this night;
I consecrate these locks, then haire she tore,
And laid them on her bed, and wept them-o're.
So fell asleepe with griefe and passion tir'd,
And slept so long as next day was admir'd.
For Calasiris missing her, before
That wont rise early, knockt hard at her doore;
And wak'd her suddenly with such a din,
That, as she was, she rose and let him in.
But when he saw her haire and vesture rent,
And lookes vnsettled, ghessing what they ment;
He lookt aside, she slipt halfe into bed;
Then thus he chid her, while she drest her head.

What meane you (Lady) so your selfe to vex?
I thought you had in courage past your Sex:
And now me thinkes, but only for the name,
(So chang'd you are) you should not be the same.
Why will you kill your selfe, and not expect
Your better hopes? O doe not so neglect
Theagenes and me! a while she staid,
A blushing while, and modestly then said;
Good father pardon! 'tis no strange desire,
Nor common cause that sets me thus asire.
You know the loue I beare Theagenes,
And his to me; my heart cannot haue ease,
For his long absence, most because I feare,
And, wheth'r he liue, or dead be, cannot heare.
Feare not, quoth he; for that of him and you
Fore-told by th'Oracle must needs be true.
Nor doubt y' of that was told vs yesterday,
How he by Thyam carri'd was away:
But thinke him safe as with acquainted frend;
And vnto Bessa let vs goe or send,
As both haue cause; you for Theagenes,
And I my sonnes intended war t'appease;
But rather goe: she paus'd, and said, your sonne?
If that be Thyamis, I am vndone.
How so? quoth he. You know (quoth she) and where
Theagenes and I his prisners were.
My seeming beautie, mischieuous to me,
So there enflam'd your sonne (if this be he)
That I, to saue our libertie and life,
Delaying promise made to be his wife.
My sonne is not so far run out of way,
Quoth Calasire, but I shall make him stay.
Or if you doubt, inuent some how, I pray,
(For cunning y'are I see to make delay)
Some how we may enquire, and not be knowne.
She smil'd, and said; Sir, my way or your owne,
In iest or earnest, little skilth it now,
Theagenes and I had such a how:
But were preuented e're we could prepare;
And 'twas, in forme of beggars clad, to fare.
This (if you please) now let us put in vre;
For pouertie makes all men walke secure,
Be pitti'd, not enui'd; and victailes get,
Which vnto trauellers are deerest set:
And world so false is now (that by your leaue)
Who will not be deceiued, must deceiue.
But thinke we not so long what must be wrought,
That we forget to practise that is thought.
He could not choose but at her reason smile,
And all in haste prepares them for that wile
Then there in Chemmis; after parted faire
With Nausicles and his new marri'd paire.

Now on the way, in place conuenient,
They change their clothes, and as a begging went;
She Doxy-like, and he, as Patrikoe,
With hundred-patched cloke lent on her bow,
And halted when he met or man or page,
And crookt his shoulders more than had his age;
Or as a blinde man poring on the land,
Sometime Chariclia led him by the hand.
He bore her quiuer bound-vp at his backe,
Like some thing else; and she in slubber'd packe
Her best attire, and jewels; then besmut
Her face, and hardly counterfeits a slut.
When fouler faces vse a Painters knacke,
To make them faire, she needs be painted blacke.
O all that looke in glasse, and finde you faire,
Doe nothing that the credit might impaire
Of those sored and white, and comely graces;
If beautie faile, with vertue mend your faces.
A shew may soone deceiue the vulgar eye;
But he that lookt on her iudicially,
Might well perceiue in black-well-featur'd face,
Of nose, of lip, of cheeke, eye, brow, the grace:
As when a cloud is o're Diana drawne,
Or Uenus looking th'row blacke cobweb lawne.
Was neuer seene a Maiden comlier,
Nor vnder duskie cloud so bright a sterre.
Yet Sir (quoth she) you seeme one of the Bench;
O, good your Worship, pitie a poore young wench:
Good Dame, quoth he; my right hand is me reft,
And no true finger leaft is on my left.
And she againe; once poore, and euer poore;
For wealth is giu'n to none, but had before.
Then he againe; yet winde in driuing snow,
From higher places oft fils vp the low.