There was a kinge of Englande named Edwarde, which had to his first wyfe the doughter of the Counte of Henault of whom hee had children, the eldest whereof was called also Edward, the renowmed Prince of Wales, who besides Poictiers subdued the French men, toke Iohn the French king prisoner, and sent him into England. This Edwarde father of the Prince of Wales, was not onely a capitall eunemie of the Frenchmen, but also had continual warres with the Scottes his neighbours, and seing himself so disquieted on euery side, ordayned for his Lieutenant vpon the frontiers of Scotland, one of his Captaynes, named William, Lord Montague: to whom because he had fortified Roxborough, and addressed many enterprises against the enemies, he gaue the Earledome of Sarisburie, and maried him honourablie with one of the fairest Ladies of England. Certaine dayes after, kinge Edward sent him into Flaunders, in the companie of the Earle of Suffolke, where fortune was so contrarie, as they were both taken prisoners, by the Frenchmen, and sente to the Louure at Paris. The Scottes hearing tell of their discomfiture, and how the marches were destitute of a gouernour, they speedely sente thether an armie, with intente to take the Countesse prisoner, to rase her Castle, and to make bootie of the riches that was there. But the Earle of Sarisburie before his departure, had giuen so good order, that their successe was not such as they hoped: for they wer so liuely repelled by them that wer within, as not able to endure their furie, in steede of making their approches, they were constrayned to go further of. And hauinge intelligence by certaine spies, that the king of England was departed from London, with a great armie, to come to succour the Countesse, perceyuing that a farre of, they were able to do litle good, they were faine shortly to retire home again to their shame. King Edward departed from London, trauayling by great iourneyes with his armye towardes Sarisburie, was aduertized, that the Scottes were discamped, and fled againe into Scotland. Albeit they had so spoyled the castle in manye places, as the markes gaue sufficiente witnesse, what their intente and meaning was. And althoughe the kinge had thoughte to retourne backe againe vppon their retire, yet being aduertised of the great battrie, and of the hotte assault they had giuen to the Castell, he went foorth to visit the place. The Countesse whose name was AElips, vnderstanding of the kinge's comming, causing all things to bee in so good readinesse, as the shortnesse of the time could serue, furnished her selfe so well as shee could with a certaine nomber of Gentlewomen and Souldiours that remained, to issue forth to meete the king, who besides her natural beautie, for the which she was recommended aboue all the Ladies of her prouince, was enriched with the furniture of vertue and curtesie, which made her so incomparable, that at one instante, she rauished the hartes of all the Princes and Lordes that did behold her, in such wise, as there was no talke in all the armie but of her graces and vertue, and specially of her excellent and surpassing beauty. The kinge hauing made reuerence vnto her, after hee had well viewed all her gestures and countenaunces, thoughte that hee had neuer seen a more goodlier creature. Then rapte with an incredible admiration he said vnto her: "Madame Countesse, I do beleeue, that if in this attire and furniture wherein you now be, accompanied with so rare and excellente beautie, ye had beene placed vppon one of the rampiers of your Castell, you had made more breaches with the lokes and beames of your sparkling eyes, in the hartes of your ennemyes, than they had beene able to haue done in your castel, with their thundring ordinaunce." The Countesse somewhat shamefast and abashed, to heare herselfe so greatly praysed of a Prince so greate, began to blushe and taint with roseall colour, the whitenesse of her alablaster face. Then lifting vp her bashfull eyes, somewhat towards the king, she said vnto him: "My soueraigne Lord, your grace may speake your pleasure, but I am well assured, that if you had seen the nomber of shotte, which by the space of XII. houres were bestowed so thicke as hayle, vpon euery part of the fort, you might haue iudged what good wil the Scots did beare vnto mee and my people. And for my selfe I am assured, that if I had made proufe of that which you saye, and submitted myselfe to their mercie, my bodye nowe had been dissolued into duste." The king astonned with so sage and wise aunswere, chaunging his minde, went towarde the castell: where after interteignement and accustomed welcome, he began by litle and litle, to feele himselfe attached wyth a newe fier. Which the more he laboured to resist, the more it inflamed: and feelinge this new mutacion in himselfe, there came into his mind, an infinite nomber of matters, balancing betwene hope and feare, somtimes determining to yeld vnto his passions, and somtimes thinking clerely to cut them of, for feare least by committinge himselfe to his affections, the vrgent affayres of the warres, wherewith hee was inuolued, should haue ill successe. But in the ende vanquished wyth Loue, hee purposed to proue the hart of the Countesse, and the better to attayne the same he toke her by the hande, and prayed her to shewe him the commodities of the fortresse. Which shee did so well, and with so good grace intertaigne them all the whyle wyth infinite talke of diuers matters, that the litle grifts of loue which were scarcely planted, began to growe so farre as the rootes remayned fast grounded in the depthe of his harte. And the kyng not able any longer to endure such a charge in his minde, pressed with griefe, deuised by what meanes he might enioye her, which was the cause of his disquiet. But the Countesse seing him so pensife, without any apparaunt occasion, sayde vnto him: "Sir, I doe not a litle maruell to see you reduced into these alterations: for (me thincke) your grace is maruelously chaunged within these two or thre houres, that your highnes vouchsaued to enter into this castel for my succour and reliefe in so good time, as al the dayes of my life, both I and mine be greatly bound vnto you, as to him which is not onely content liberally to haue bestowed vpon vs the goods which we possesse, but also by his generositie, doth conserue and defend vs from the incursions of the enemie. Wherein your grace doth deserue double prayse, for a deede so charitable: but I cannot tell nor yet deuise, what should bee the cause that your highnesse is so pensife and sorowful, sith without great losse on your parte, your enemies vnderstandinge of your stoute approche, be retired, which ought, as I suppose, to driue awaye the Melancholie from your Stomacke, and to revoke your former ioy, for so much as victorie acquired withoute effusion of bloud, is alwayes most noble and acceptable before God." The king hearing this angel's voyce, so amiably pronouncing these words, thinking that of her owne accord shee came to make him mery, determined to let her vnderstand his griefe, vpon so conueniente occasion offred. Then with a trembling voice he said vnto her: "Ah Madame, how farre be my thoughtes farre differente from those which you do thincke me to haue: I feele my hart so opprest with care, as it is impossible to tell you what it is, howbeit the same hath not beene of long continuance, being attached therewithall, since my comminge hether, which troubleth me so sore, as I cannot tell whereupon well to determine." The Countesse seing the king thus moued, not knowing the cause whye, was vncertaine what aunswere to make. Which the king perceyuing, said vnto her, fetching a deepe sighe from the bottome of his stomacke: "And what say you Madame thereunto, can you giue mee no remedie?" The Countesse, which neuer thoughte that any such discurtesie could take place in the kinge's hart, taking things in good part, said vnto him: "Syr, I know not what remedie to giue you, if first you do not discouer vnto me the griefe. But if it trouble you, that the Scottishe kinge hath spoyled your countrie, the losse is not soe greate, as therewith a Prince so mightie as you be, neede to be offended: sithens by the grace of God, the vengeaunce lieth in your handes, and you may in time chasten him, as at other times you haue done." Whereunto the kinge seinge her simplicitie, aunsweared: "Madame, the beginninge of my griefe ryseth not of that, but my wounde resteth in the inwarde parte of my harte, which pricketh mee so soore, as if I desire from henceforth to prolonge my life, I muste open the same vnto you, reseruing the cause thereof so secrete, as none but you and I must be partakers. I must now then confesse vnto you, that in comminge to your Castell, and castinge downe my head to behold your celestiall face, and the rest of the graces, wherewith the heauens haue prodigally endued you, I haue felt (vnhappie man as I am) such a sodaine alteration, in al the most sensible partes of my body, as knowing my forces diminished, I cannot tel to whom to make complaint of my libertie lost (which of long time I haue so happily preserued) but onely to you, that like a faithfull keeper and onely treasurer of my hart, you may by some shining beame of pitie bring againe to his former mirth and ioye, that which you desire in me: and by the contrarie, you may procure to me a life more painefull and greeuous than a thousand deathes together." When he had ended these woordes, hee helde his peace, to let her speake, attendinge none other thing by her aunswere, but the last decree either of death or life. But the Countesse with a grauitie conformable to her honestie and honour, without other mouing, said vnto him: "If any other besides your grace had been so forgetful of himself to enter in these termes, or to vse such talke vnto me, I knowe what should be mine aunswere, and so it might be, that he shoulde haue occasion not to be well contented, but knowing this your attempt to proceede rather from the pleasantnes of your hart, than for other affection, I wil beleue from henceforth, and perswade my selfe, that a Prince so renowmed and gentle as you be, doth not thincke, and much lesse meane, to attempt any thing against mine honour, which is a thousand times dearer vnto mee than life. And I am perswaded, that you do not so litle esteeme my father and my husband, who is for your seruice prisoner in the hands of the Frenchmen, our mortal enemies, as in their absence to procure vnto them such defamation and slaunder. And by making this request your grace doth swarue from the bounds of honestie very farre, and you do greate iniury to your fame, if men should know what termes you do vse vnto me. In like maner, I purpose not to violate the faith, which I haue giuen to my husband, but I intend to keepe the same vnspotted, so long as my soule shalbe caried in the Chariot of this mortall body. And if I should so far forget my self, as willingly to commit a thing so dishonest, your grace oughte for the loyal seruice of my father and husband toward you, sharpely to rebuke me, and to punish me according to my desert. For this cause (most dradde soueraigne Lord) you which are accustomed to vanquishe and subdue other, bee nowe a conquerour ouer your selfe, and throughly bridle that concupiscence (if there be any) vnder the raynes of reason, that being quenched and ouercome, they may no more reuiue in you, and hauing liuely resisted the first assaultes, the victorie is but easie, which shalbe a thousande times more glorious and gainefull for you, than if you had conquered a kingdome.{"} The Countesse had scarce made an ende of her tale, but one came to tell them that the Tables were couered for dinner: the king well fedde with Loue, dined for that time very soberly, and not able to eate but vppon amorous dishes, did caste his lokes inconstantly here and there, and still his eyes threw the last loke vppon that part of the table where the Countesse sate, meaninge thereby to extinguish the boiling flames, which incessantly did burne him, howbeit by thinking to coole them, he further plonged himselfe therein. And wandering thus in diuers cogitacions, the wise aunsweare that the Countesse made, like a vaunt currour, was continually in his remembraunce, and was well assured of her inuincible chastitie. By reason whereof, seing that so hard an enterprise required a longer abode, and that a hart so chast, could not so quickly be remoued from purpose, carefull on the other side to giue order to the waightie affayres of his realme, disquieted also on euery side, through the turmoile of warres, determined to depart the next day in the morning, reseruing till another time more conuenient the pursute of his loue. Hauing taken order for his departure, in the morning he wente to seeke the Countesse, and taking his leaue of her, praied her to thinke better of the talke made vnto her the daye before, but aboue al, he besought her to haue pitie vpon him. Wherunto the Countesse aunswered, that not onely shee praied God incessantly to giue him victory ouer his outward enemies, but also grace to tame the carnal passion, which did so torment him. Certaine dayes after that king Edward was arriued at London, which was the place of his ordinarie abode, the Countesse of Sarisburie was aduertised, that the Earle her husband, being out of pryson, consumed with griefe and sicknes, died by the way homewards. And because they had no children, the Earledome retourned to the kinge, which first gaue the same vnto him. And after she had lamented the death of her husband the space of manye dayes, shee returned to her father's house, which was Earle of Warwike. And for so much as he was one of the king's priuie Counsel, and the most part of the affayres of the Realme passed by his aduise and counsell, he continued at London, that hee might be more neare vnto the kinge's person. The king aduertised of the comming of the Countesse, thoughte that fortune had opened a way to bring his enterprise to desired effect, specially for that the death of her husband, and the witnesse of his earnest good will, woulde make her more tractable. The kinge seing all thing (as he thought) to succede after his desire, began to renue his first affections, seeking by all meanes to practise the good will of the Countesse, who then was of the age of XXVI. yeares. Afterwards he ordeyned many triumphes at the Tilt and Torney, Maskes, Momeries, Feastes, Banquettes, and other like pastimes, whereat ladies accustomablye doe assemble, who made much of theym all, and secretely talked wyth them. Notwithstanding he could not so well disguise and counterfaite his passions, but that he still shewed himselfe to beare beste good will to the Countesse. Thus the kinge could not vse such discretion in loue, but that from his secret fier, some euident flames did issue oute: but the Countesse which was a wise and curteous Ladye, did easely perceiue, how the king by chaunging the place, had not altered his affection, and that hee still prosecuted his talke begon at Sarisburie. She despising all his amorous countenaunces, continued her firme and chaste minde: and if it chaunced that sometimes the king made more of her than discretion required, sodainly might haue been discried a certaine palenesse in her face, which declared the litle pleasure that she toke in his toyes, with a certaine rigour appearinge, that yelded to the king an assured testimonie that he laboured in vaine. Neuerthelesse, she, to cut of all meanes of the kinges pursute, kept still her father's house, shewinge herself in no place where the king mighte see her. The king offended, seing himselfe depriued and banished her presence, whom he esteemed as the comfort of his life, made his secretarie priuie to the whole matter, whose fidelity he had wel proued in matters daungerous, with mind to pursue her by other way, if it chaunced that she persisted in her wonted rigor and refusal. Howbeit before he preceded any further, sithe he could not secretely talke with her, he purposed to send her a letter, the tenor whereof insueth:

"Madame, if you please by good aduise to consider the beginning of my Loue, the continuance of the same, and then the last issue wherunto it tendeth, I am assured that laying your hand on your hart, you wil accuse your selfe, not only of your curst and froward stomacke hitherto appearing, but also of that newe ingratitude, which you shewe vnto me at this houre, whoe not contented to bathe and plondge mee into the missehappe of my paines paste, but by a newe onset, to abandon your selfe from my presence, as from the sighte of your mortall eunemie: wherein I finde that heauen and all his influences, doe crie out for myne ouerthrowe, whereunto I doe agree, since my life taking no vigor and increase, being onely sustained by the fauour of your diuine graces, can not be maintained one onely minute of a daye, without the liberall helpe of your sweetenesse and vertue: beseching you, that if the hartie prayers of any mortal tormented man, may euer haue force and power to moue you to pitie, it may please you miraculously to deliuer from henceforth this my poore miserable afflicted mynde, either from death or martyrdome:

He that is more yours than his ownne, Edward, the desolate king of England."

The letter written with his own hande, and sealed with his seale, he commaunded the Secretarie to go to the Countesse, at her father's house, and secretly to deliuer the same. The Countesse hauing red and perused it, sayd to the Secretarie: "My frende, you shall tell the kyng, that I doe besech him most humbly, to sende me no more letters or messages touching the matters whereof he hath written: for I am in such wyse resolued in the aunswere, which I made him in my castle, as I wyll persiste immutable, to the ende of my life." The Secretaire retorninge the aunswere of the Countesse, the king rapte with an impacient and extreme choler, desired eftsones to giue another attempt: and consuming by litle and litle in this amorous fier, began to sort out of the limits of reason. And almoste out of his wittes, demaunded of his Secretarie: "Do you thinke it expedient that I make request to her father, whose counsell I want in other thinges?" To whome the Secretarie boldly aunswered, that he thought it vnreasonable to seeke ayde at a father's handes to corrupt the doughter: faithfully telling to the king, the reproche and infamie that would followe thereof, as well for the olde seruice, that her father hadde done to his auncestours, as for his great prowesse in armes for which he was so greatly commended. But loue, the mortall enemie of all good counsell, so blinded the eyes of the kyng, that without anye further deliberation, he commaunded the Secretarie to go seke the father, to demande his counsell for matters of importance: whiche the Earle vnderstanding, obeyed incontinently, where the king alone in a chamber lying vpon a bed, after hee had commaunded him to shut the dore and to sit downe by him, sayde these wordes: "My lorde, I haue caused you to come hither for a certaine occasion, whiche toucheth me so nighe, as the losse or preseruation of my life. For neuer through any assaut of fortune (the sharpenesse wherof I haue often felt) haue I bene vanquished with so great disquiet, as nowe. For I am so vexed with my passions, as being ouercome by them, I haue none other refuge, but to a most unhappie death that euer man can suffer, if presently I bee not holpen. Knowe ye therefore, that I deeme him onely to be happy that by Reason can rule his wyttes, not suffering hym selfe to be caried into vayne desires: in whiche pointe wee do differ from beastes, who being lead onely by naturall order, doe indifferently runne headlong, whether their appetite doth guide them: but we with the measure of Reason, ought to moderate our doinges with suche prouidence, as without straying we may choose the right way of equitie and iustice: and if at any time, the weake fleshe doth faint and giue ouer, we haue none to blame but our selues: who deceiued by the fading shadow and false apparaunce of things, fal into the ditche by our selues prepared. And that which I do alleage, is proued, not without manifest reason, wherof I nowe doe fele experience, hauing let slip the raynes of the bridle to farre ouer my disordinate affections, beyng drawen from the right hande, and traiterously deceiued. And neuerthelesse I can not tell howe to retire to take the right waye, or howe to retourne my back from that which doth me hurt. Wherefore nowe (vnfortunate and miserable that I am) I acknowledge my selfe to be like vnto him, that followeth his game in the thicket of a woode, rushing through thicke and thynne at all aduentures, not knowing howe to finde the waye he entred in, but rather the more he desireth to follow the trace, the more in the ende he is wrapped in the bushes. So it is my Lorde, that I can not and may not for all my foresayd allegations, so colour my fault, or purge myne error, but that I must confesse and acknowledge it to be in me: but I speake to this ende, that seeking a farre of the originall of my griefe, you would helpe me to complayne, and thereby to take pitie vpon me. For to tell you the truthe, I am so intricated in the labarinthe of my vnbrideled will, as the more I doe aspire to the better (alas) the worsse I am. Haue not I good cause to complaine my Lorde, that after so manye famous victories achieued by Sea and Lande, wherewith I haue renowmed the memorie of my name in all places, am now bound and daunted with an appetite so outragious, as I can not helpe my selfe, whereby myne owne life, or rather death, is consumed in suche anguishe and mortall paine, as I am become the very mansion of all mischiefs, and onely receptacle of all miseries? What sufficient excuse for my fault may I henceforth alleage, that in the end will not display it to be both vnprofitable and voyde of reason? But what shall be the buckeler of my shame, if not my youthly age, which pricketh me forewarde to loue like a sharpe nedle, the force whereof I haue so ofte repelled, as nowe being vanquished, I haue no place for rest, but in thy mercy, who in my father's dayes diddest liberally spende thy bloud, in manye notable enterprises in his seruice, whiche afterwardes thou haste so well continued, that in many daungerous affaires, I haue diuers times proued the fidelitie of thy counsell, whereby I haue brought to passe thinges of great importaunce, and therein hitherto neuer founde thee slacke and vnfaythfull. Whiche when I remember doe prouoke me to be bolde to declare vnto you mine entent, whiche by youre onely worde you may procure, the fruite whereof being gotten, you shall winne the heart of a king, to be vsed as you liste for euer. And the more the thing shal seeme harde, difficult or painefull, the greater shall your merite be, and the more firmely shall he be bounde, whiche doth receive it. Consider then my Lorde, howe profitable it is, to haue a king at your commaundement. You haue also foure sonnes, whom you cannot honourably aduaunce with out my fauour: swearing unto you by my regall Scepter, that if you comfort me in these my troubles, I will endue the three yongest with so large possessions, as they shall haue no cause to be offended with their eldest brother. Remember likewyse, what rewardes I haue bestowed vpon them that serue me. And if you haue knowen how liberall I haue bene towardes other, thinke then I praye you, how bountifully you bynde me towardes you, vpon whome my life and deathe dependeth." The king ending his sorowfull complainte, stopped by sobbes and sighes, helde his peace. And the Earle who tenderly loued his Prince, hearing this pitifull discourse, (the faithfull witnesse of his inward passion) and not able to coniecture the occasion, was maruellously troubled in him selfe, and without longer aduise, ouercome with pitie, he made a liberall and very sodayne offer to the king of his life, his children, and of all that he was able to doe. "Commaunde, my soueraigne Lorde (quod he with weaping teares) what it shall please you to haue me doe, if it be, euen to bestowe my life for your sake. For by the faithe and fealtie that I do owe to God and to your grace, I sweare, that many dayes and yeares paste, I haue bound my selfe inuiolably, and all mine abilitie without exception, so long as this tongue is able to sturre, and breathe shall remaine within this bodye, faithfully and truely to serue your maiestie, not onely for that dutie bindeth me, but if it were for your sake, to transgresse and exceede the bondes of mine honour." But the good olde Earle, whiche neuer thought that a request so vniust and dishonest would haue proceeded out of the mouth of a king, with franke and open harte made that liberall offer. The king then hauing sounded the depth of the Earle's affection, chaunging colour, his eyes fixed on the grounde, sayde vnto him: "Your doughter the Countesse of Sarisburie, (my Lorde) is the onely medicine of my trauayles, whome I doe loue better than mine owne life, and doe feele my selfe so inflamed with her heauenly beautie, as without her grace and fauour I am not able hereafter to liue: for this consideration, sith you desire to doe me seruice, and to preserue my life, I praye you to deale with her, that she with compassion may looke vpon me. Crauiug this request at your handes, not without extreme shame, considering as well your honorable state, as your auncient merites imploied vpon me and my progenitours: but according to your modestie and accustomed goodnesse, impute the faulte vpon amorous loue, which in such wise hath alienated my libertie, and confounded my heart, that now ranging out of the boundes of honour and reason, I feele my selfe tormented and vexed in mynde. Whereby I am prouoked to make this request, and not able to expel the mortall poyson out of my hart, which hath diminished my force, intoxicated my sense, and hath depriued my minde from all good counsell, as I can not tell what to doe but to seeke to you for helpe, hauing no kinde of rest but when I see her, when I speake of her, or thinke vppon her. And I am at this present reduced into so pitiful plight as being not able to wynne her by intreaties, offers, presentes, sutes, ambassages and letters, my onely and last refuge and assured port of all my miseries, resteth in you, either by death to ende my life, or by force to obtayne my desire." The Earle hearing the vnciuile and beastly demaunde of his soueraigne Lorde, blushing for shame, and throughly astonned, filled also with a certaine honest and vertuous disdayne, was not able to dissolue his tongue to render a worthy aunswere to the afflicted Prince. Finally, like one awaked from his dead sleepe, he said vnto him: "Sir, my wittes fayle, my vertue reuolteth, my tongue is mute, at the wordes that proceede from you, whereby I fele my selfe brought into two straunge and perillous pointes, as passing either by one or other, I must nedes fall into very great daunger. But to resolue vpon that which is most expedient, hauing geuen vnto you my faithe in pledge, to succour and helpe you euen to the abandoning of honor and life, I will not be contrarie to my woordes. And touching my daughter, for whom you make request, I will reueale vnto her the effecte of your demaunde: yet of one thing I must tell you, sir, power I haue to entreate her, but none at all to force her. Inough it is that she vnderstand of me, what hart and affection you beare vnto her. But I doe maruell, yea and complaine of you, pardon me (most drad soueraigne) and suffer me without offence to discharge my grief before your presence, rather than to your shame and mine eternal infamie, it should be manifested and published abrode by other. I say, that I maruell, sir, what occasion moued you to commit such reproch in my stock and bloud, and by an act so shamefull and lasciuious, to dishonour the same: whiche neuer disdained to serue both you and yours, to the vttermost of their powers. Alas, vnhappy father that I am, is this the guerdon and recompence that I and my children shall expect for our trusty and faithfull seruice? O sir, for God's sake, if you liste not to be liberall of your owne, seke not to dishonour vs, and to inflict vpon our race such notable infamie. But who can loke for worse at the handes of his mortall and cruell enemie? It is you, euen you it is (most noble Prince) that doth rauishe my daughter's honor, dispoyle me of my contentation, ye take from my children hardinesse to shewe their faces, and from all our whole house, the auncient fame and glorie. It is you that doth obscure the clearenesse of my bloud, with an attempt so dishonest and detestable, as the memorie thereof shall neuer be forgotten. It is you that doth constraine me to be the infamous minister of the totall destruction of my progenie, and to be a shamelesse Pandarus of my daughter's honor. Doe you thinke to helpe and succour me, when others shall attempt to obiect vnto my face this slaunder and reproche? but if your selfe doe hurt me, where shall I hereafter seke reliefe and succour. If the hande which ought to helpe me, be the very same that doth giue me the wounde, where shall the hope bee of my recouerie? For this cause, may it please your maiestie, whether iustlie I do make my complainte, and whether you geue me cause to aduaunce my cries vp into the heauens, your selfe shall be the iudge: for, if like a iudge in deede you doe geue ouer your disordinate affection, I then appeale to the iudgement of your inuincible minde, of late accomplished with all curtesie and gentlenesse. On the other side, I doe lament your fortune, when I thinke vpon the reasons which you haue alleaged, and the greater cause I haue to plaine, because I haue knowen you from your youth, and haue alwayes deemed you at libertie and free from such passions, not thral or subiect to the flames of loue, but rather geuen to exercise of armes. And nowe seing you to become a prisoner of an affection vnworthy your estate, I can not tell what to thinke, the noueltie of this sodain chaunce semeth to be so straunge. Remember sir, that for a litle suspicion of adulterie, you caused Roger Mortimer to be put to death. And (being skarce able to tell it without teares) you caused your owne mother miserablie to die in pryson: and God knoweth howe simple your accusations were, and vpon howe light ground your suspicion was conceived. Do not you knowe howe wounderfully you be molested with warres, and that your enemies, trauell day and night to circumuent you, both by Sea and Lande? Is it nowe tyme then to geue your selfe to delightes, and to captiuate your mynde in the pleasures of Ladies? Where is the auncient generositie and nobilitie of your bloud? Wher is magnanimitie and valour, wherewith you haue astonned your eunemies, shewed your selfe amiable to your frends, and wonderfull to your subiects? Touching the last point, wherin you threaten, that if my doughter doe not agree to your desire, you will forcibly enioye her, I can neuer confesse that to be the fact of a valiaunt and true king, but of a vile, cowardly, cruell and libidinous Tryaunt. I trust it be not the pleasure of God, that nowe at the age you be of, you wil begin to force Gentlewomen that be your humble subiects, which if you do, this iland shall lose the name of a Realme, and hereafter shalbe deemed none other, but a sanctuarie of theues and murderers. If then, (to conclude this my sorowefull and heauie complaint) you may, or can by your flatteries, promisses and presentes, allure my doughter to your vnbrideled appetites, I shall haue occasion to bewayle her dishonestie, and to deeme her, as an incontinent daughter, degenerated from the vertues of her progenitors. But touching your owne persone, I haue nothing to saye, but that herein you doe followe the common sort of men, that be sutors to Ladies, willing to please their fansies. There resteth onely nowe for me to aunswere the fauour, whiche in time to come you promise to me and my children: I couet not after any thing reprochfull to me or them, or to any of our posteritie, that may make vs ashamed, knowing in what contempt and reputation they be, which being borne of base parentage, be arriued to goods and honour, by gratifying and obeying Princes and kinges in their dishonest lustes and appetites. Remember sir, that within these fewe dayes, being in campe against the Scottes, you vpbrayded a certaine man (which shalbe namelesse) for being a minister of your father's loue, who from the state of a barber, was aduaunced to the degree of an Earle, and how you sayd, that if in time to come he amended not his manners, you would sende him to the shop againe. And for my part, I am of opinion, that honest pouertie hath euer bene the auncient and greatest inheritaunce amonges the noble Romaines, which if it be condemned by the ignoraunt multitude, and if we therefore should geue place, making greater accompt and estimation of richesse and treasures, then of vertue: I doe say for mine own part, that by the grace of God, I am abundantly prouided, for the maintenance of me and mine, not like an ambicious man or couetous, but as one satisfied with the good wil of fortune. I do most humbly then besech you (sir) for conclusion, to take in good parte, that which my dutie and honour do constraine me to speake. And so by your grace's leaue, I will departe towarde my daughter, to let her vnderstande from point to point your maiestie's pleasure." And without tarying for other replie of the kyng, he went his way discoursing diuers thinges in his minde, vpon that which had passed betwene the king and him. The reasons which the Earle had made, so pearced the affections of the passionate Prince, as vncertaine what to saye, he condemned himselfe, knowing verie well, that the Earle not only vpon right and iust cause, had pronounced these wordes: but also that he had done the office of a faithfull seruaunt and trustie counseller, in such sort, as feling his conscience touched at the quicke, he could not excuse himself from committing a dishonest charge to a father so commendable and vertuous in the behalfe of his daughter. Thus he determined to chaunge his opinion. Afterwardes when he had throwen forth many sighes, hee spake these wordes to himselfe. "O miserable man, cut of this amorous practise, howe arte thou defrauded of right sense to cast thy mynd vpon her, whom thou oughtest to vse with such reuerence as thou wouldest doe thine own proper sister, for the seruice which thou and thy progenitors haue receiued of the good Earle her father? Open the eyes of thine vnderstanding and knowe thy selfe, geue place to reason, and reforme thy vnshamefull and disordinate appetites. Resist with al thy power this wanton will which doth enuiron thee. Suffer not this tyraunt loue to bewitch or deceiue thee." Sodainly after he had spoken those wordes, the beautie of the Countesse representing it self before his eyes, made him to alter his minde again, and to reiect that which he before allowed, saying thus: "I feele in minde the cause of mine offence, and thereby doe acknowledge the wrong, but what shall I doe? sithe I am not able any longer to withstande beautie, that cruell murderer, whiche doth force and maister me so much? Let fortune then and loue doe what they list, the faire Countesse shalbe myne, whatsoeuer come of it. Is it a notable vice in a king to loue his subiecte's daughter? Am I the first vpon whome such inconuenience hath come?" This talke ended, he deluded himself, and thinking vpon the contrary, he accused himself again, and then from this he altered again to the other. And being in this perplexitie, he passed daye and night, with such anguish and dolor, as euery man doubted his health: and floting thus betwene hope and dispaire, he resolued in thend to attend the father's answere. The Earle then being gone out of the king's chambre, aggrauated with sorowfull thoughtes, full of rage and discontent, thought good to delay the matter till the next day, before he spake to his daughter: and then calling her vnto him, and causing her to sit against him, he reasoned the matter in such wise. "I am assured, deare daughter, that you will no lesse maruell than be astonned to heare what I shal say vnto you, and so much the more, when you doe see, how farre my tale shall exceade the order of Reason. But for so much as of twoo euils the least is to be chosen, I doubt not, but like a sage and wise woman, which I haue alwayes knowen you to be, you will stay vpon that whiche I haue determined. Touching my self, sith it hath pleased God to geue me knowledge of good and il, hitherto I haue still preferred honour before life, bicause (after mine opinion) it is a lesse matter to die innocently, than to liue in dishonour and shame of the worlde. But you know what libertie he hath, which is vnder the power of another, being sometime constrayned to make faire weather of thinges not onely cleane contrarie to his mynde, but also (which is worse) against his owne conscience, being oftentymes forced according to the qualitie of the tyme, and pleasure of the state, to chaunge his maners, and to put on newe affections. Whereof I haue thought good to put you in remembraunce, because it toucheth the matter, whiche I purpose to tell you. Thus it is (deare daughter) that yesterday after dynner, the kyng sent for mee, and being come before him, with a very instant and pitiful prayer, he required me (his eyes full of teares) to doe a thing for hym that touched his life. I whiche (besides that I am his subiect and seruaunt) haue alwayes borne a particuler affection to his father and him, without deliberation what the matter should be, betrothed to him my faith to obey his request, if it coste me the price of mine honour and life. He assuring himselfe of my liberall promise, after many wordes ioyned with an infinite number of sighes, discouering vnto me the secrete of his harte, told me, that the torment which he indured, proceded no where els but of the feruent loue that he bare vnto you. But, O immortall God, what man of any discretion would haue thought that a king could be so impudent and vnshamefast, as to committe to a father a charge so dishonest towardes his own daughter?" The Earle hauing recited in order the historie past betwene hym and the kyng, sayde thus vnto her: "Consider you, swete daughter, myne vnaduised and simple promisse, and the vnbrideled mynde of an amorous kyng, to whome I made aunswere, that intreate you thereunto I was able, but force you I coulde not. For this cause (deare daughter) I doe praye you at this instant to obeye the kynge's pleasure, and thereby to make a present by your father of your honest chastitie, so dearely estemed and regarded by you, specially, that the thing may so secretly be done as the fault be not bruted in the eares of other. Neuerthelesse, the choyse resteth in you, and the key of your honour is in your own hands, and that which I haue sayde vnto you, is but to kepe promise with the king." The Countesse all the while that her father thus talked, chaunged her colour with a comly shamefastnesse, inflamed with a vertuous disdaine, that he whiche had behold her then, would haue thought her rather some celestial goddesse than a humaine creature: and after long silence, with an humble grauitie she began thus to make her aunswere: "Your wordes haue so confounded me, and brought me into such admiration (my Lorde and right honourable father) that if all the partes of my bodie were conuerted into tongues, they could not bee sufficient worthely to expresse the least part of my sorrowe and disquietnesse: and truely very iustly may I complayne of you, for the litle estimation you haue of me, which am deriued of your owne fleshe: and for the ransome of the fraile and transitorie life which you haue geuen me vpon earth, you wyll for recompence nowe defraude me of myne honour: whereby I do perceiue that not onely al nature's lawes be cancelled and mortified in you, but which is worse, you doe exceede therin the cruelties of beastes, who for all their brutishenesse be not so vnnatural to do wrong to their owne yong, or to offer their fruite to the mercie of an other, as you haue done yours to the pleasure of a Kyng: for notwithstandynge the straight charge and aucthoritie whiche you haue ouer mee, to commaunde me being your right humble and very obedient daughter, yet you oughte to thinke and remember, that you haue neuer seene in mee any acte, mocion, signe, or woorde, to incite you to moue sutch dishonest talk. And although the king many times, with infinite number of prayers, presentes, messages and other such allurementes of persuasion hath displayed and vttered all the art of his mynde to seduce and corrupt me, yet he was neuer able to receiue other aunswere of me, but that honor was a thousand times derer vnto me then life, which still I meant to kepe secret from your knowledge euen as I haue done from other of mine aliaunce, for feare least you should be induced to commit some trespas, or conspire against our king, foreseing the straunge accidentes whiche haue chaunced for like matters, to the ruine of many cities and prouinces. But, good God, my doubt is nothing to purpose, sithe that your selfe is the shamelesse post of an act so dishonest: and to conclude in fewe wordes, daily I had good hope, that the king seing me at a point still to conserue my chastitie inuiolable he would give ouer to pursue me any longer, and would haue suffered me hereafter to liue in quiet with mine equals, but if so be he doe continue obstinate in his olde folly, I am determined rather to die, than to doe the thing that shall hurt me and pleasure him: and for feare that he take from me by force that which of mine owne accord I will not graunt, following your counsell, of twoo euilles I will chose the least, thinking it more honourable to destroy and kill my selfe with mine own handes, then to suffer such blot or shame to obscure the glorie of my name, being desirous to committe nothing in secrete, that sometime hereafter being published, may make me ashamed and chaunge colour. And wher you say that you haue sworne and gaged your faith to the king, for the assuraunce of your promise, it was very ill done, before you did consider, what power fathers haue ouer their children, whiche is so well defined by the lawe of God, as they be not bound to their parentes in that which is against his deuine commaundementes: much lesse may they bynde vs to things incestuous and dishonest, which specially and straightly be inioyned vs not to perfourme, if we therunto be required: and it had bene farre more decent, and excusable before God, if when you made that foolyshe promise to the kyng you had promised him, rather to strangle mee with youre owne handes, than to consent to let me fall into a faulte so abhominable: and to thend I may tell you the last determination, and conclusion of that whiche I am determined by good aduise and immutable counsell: thus it is. You shall tell the king, that I had rather lose my life after the moste cruell and shameful maner that may be deuised, then to consent to a thing so dishonest, hauing long time fixed this saying in mind, 'That honest death doth honor and beautifie the forepassed life.'" The father hearing the wise aunswere of his daughter, gaue her his blessing, in his hart praysing her godly minde, beseching God to helpe her and to kepe her vnder his protection, and to confirme her in that holy and vertuous determination. Then feling him greatly comforted, he repaired to the king, to whom he said: "Pleaseth your grace, to thintent I might obserue my promise, I sweare by the faith that I doe owe vnto God and you, that I haue done what I can with my daughter, disclosing vnto her your whole minde and pleasure, and exhorting her to satisfy your request, but for a resolute aunswere she saith, that rather she is contented to suffer most cruel death than to commit a thing so contrarie to her honour. You know (sir) what I sayd vnto you still, that I might entreate her, but force her I could not: hauing then obeied your commaundement, and accomplished my promise, it may please you to geue me leaue to go home to one of my Castels, from henceforth to recline my selfe to quietnesse, and to ease my decrepite and feeble age." Which the king willingly graunted. The same daye hee departed from the Courte with his sonnes and went home to his Countrie, leauing at London his wife and daughter and the reste of his housholde, thinking therby to discharge himself of those thinges with out the kinge's displeasure. The king on the other side was no soner aduertised of the Earle's departure, and that he had left his daughter behinde him at London, but he knew the father's minde and purpose, and fell in suche dispaire of his loue, as he was like to haue runne out of his wittes for sorrowe. The nightes and dayes were all one to him, for hee could take no rest, he gaue ouer vse of armes and administration of iustice, hunting and hauking, wherin before that time he had great delight: and all his study was many times to passe and repasse before the gate of the Countesse, to proue if he might attaine to haue some sight of her: and thinges were brought to so pitifull state, that within fewe dayes the citizens and other gentlemen began to perceiue the raging loue of their Prince, euery of them with common voice blaming the crueltie of the Countesse that was vnmarried, who the more she proued the king inflamed with her loue, the more squeymish she was of her beautie. The peres and noble men seing their king reduced to such extremitie, moued with pitie and compassion, began secretly to pratise for him, some with threatninges, some with flatteries and persuasions: some went to the mother, declaring vnto her the eternall rest and quiet prepared for her and all her friendes, if she would persuade her daughter to encline to the kinge's mind, and contrariwyse the daunger iminent ouer her head. But all these deuises were in vayne, for the Countesse moued no more then a harde rocke beaten with diuerse tempestes: and at lengthe seing that euery man spake diuersly, as their affections ledde them, shee was so troubled and pensife in harte, as fearing to bee taken, and that the kyng vanquished with his strong passion, by succession of tyme would vse his force, and violentlye oppresse her, founde meanes to get a great sharpe knife, whiche she caried about her secretly vnder her gowne, of purpose, that if she sawe perill to be defloured, shee might kill her selfe. The Courtiers offended with the martyrdome of their master, and desyrous to gratifie and seeke meanes to doe hym pleasure, conspyred all against the Earle's familie, lettyng the kynge to vnderstande that it were most expedient, for that thinges were out of hope, to cause AElips to be brought to his Palace, that there he might vse her by force. Wherunto the king (being dronke in his own passion) did willingly agree: notwithstanding, before hee passed any further, for that hee faithfully loued the Countesse, he determined to aduertise her mother of that whiche he intended to doe, and commaunded his Secretarie to go seke her with diligence, and without concealing any thing from her knowledge, to instructe her of the whole. The Secretarie finding the mother of the countesse, said vnto her: "Madame, the king hath willed me to say vnto you that he hath done what he can, and more then his estate requireth, to win the grace and loue of your daughter, but for that she hath despised his long sute, disdained his presence, and abhorred his griefes and complaintes, knowing not what to do any more, his last refuge is in force, doing you to vnderstande hereof, to the intent that you and shee may consider what is to be done in this behalf: for he hath determined whether you will or no, to fetch her out openly by force, to the great dishonour, slaunder and infamie of al your kinne. And where in time past, he hath loued and fauoured the Earle your husband, he meaneth shortly to make him vnderstand what is the effect of the iust indignation of such a Prince as he is." The good Lady hearing this sodaine and cruell message, was astonned in such wise, as she thought how she sawe her daughter already trained by the heares of her head, her garmentes haled and torne in pieces, with rufull and lamentable voyce crying out to him for mercy: for this cause with blubbering teares, trembling for feare, she fell down at the Secretarie's feete, and straightlye imbracing his knees, sayde vnto hym: "Maister Secretarie, my deare louing friend: beseche the king in my name to remember the payne and seruice done by our auncestours. Intreate him not to dishonoure my house in the absence of the Earle my husbande: and if you be not able by your perswasion to molifie his hard hart, desire him for a while to take pacience, vntill I haue aduertised my daughter of his will and pleasure, whom I hope to perswade, that shee shall satisfie the kinge's request." When she had made this aunswere, the Secretary declared the same to the kinge, who madde with anger and passioned with loue, was content, and neuerthelesse commaunded his gentlemen to be in readinesse to seeke the Countesse. In the meane time the mother of faire AElips went to her daughter's chamber, and after she had commaunded all her maids, which accompanied her, to withdraw themselues out of the chamber, shee began in few woordes to recite vnto her the message done vnto her by the Secretary: finally with sobbinge sighes she said vnto her: "The dayes haue been (deare daughter) that I haue seene thee to keepe thy state amonges the chiefeste of all the Ladies of this Realme: and I haue counted my self most happie that euer I did beare the in my wombe, and haue thoughte, by meanes of thy beautie and vertue, one day to see thee become the ioye and comfort of all thy frendes: but now my cogitacions be turned cleane contrary, through thine vnluckie fate: nowe I thincke thee to be borne not onely for the vniuersall ruine of all oure familie, but also (which greeueth me most) to be an occasion and instrument of my death, and desolation of all thy frendes: but if thou wilt somewhat moderate thy rygor all this heauines shortly may be tourned to ioye: for our king and soueraign Lorde is not onely in loue with thee, but for the ardent affection and amitie that he beareth thee, is out of his wittes, and now doth conspire against vs, as though we were traytors and murderers of our Prince: in whose handes (as thou knowest) doth rest the life, honor and goods both of thy selfe and of vs all: and what glory and triumphe shall be reported of thee to our posterity, when they shal know how by thy obstinate crueltie, thou haste procured the death of thine old father, the death of thy hooreheaded mother, and the destruction of thy valiaunt and coragious brethren, and dispoyled the rest of thy bloud of their possessions and abilitie? But what sorrowe and griefe will it be, to see them wander in the world like vagabounds banished from their liuings, and remaine in continuall pouertie, without place and refuge of their miserie? who in steede of blessing or praysinge the houre of thy birth, will cursse the in their minds a thousand times, as the cause of all their ouerthrow and ill fortune. Thinke and consider vpon the same (deare daughter) for in thee alone resteth the conseruacion of our liues, and hope of all our frendes." This lamentable discourse ended, the afflicted Countesse not able anye longer to resiste that pangue, began to waxe so faint as wyth her armes a crosse she fell downe halfe deade vpon her doughter: who seinge her without mouinge and without any apparaunce of life, and all the partes of her bodye to waxe cold, she quicklye layde her downe, and then with helpe and other thinges apt for sowninges, shee made her come to herselfe againe, and thinking wholy to recouer her, she earnestly promised to do what she would haue her, saying vnto her: "Do awaye your teares (Madame) moderate your tormentes, reuoke your former ioye, and be of good cheere, for I am disposed to obey you. God defende that I should be the cause of the paine which I see you to suffer: nowe am I ready to goe with you to the kinge, where if it shall please you, wee two withoute other company will do our owne errande and attempt the beginning of our enterprise." The mother full of ioye, lifting vp her hands to the heauens, tenderly embraced her daughter, and manye times did kisse her, and after shee had commaunded her Coche to be made readye, she wente forth with her doughter, accompanied onelye with two Gentlewomen to the kinge's Palace. Being come thither, they sente worde to the Secretary, that brought her the message, who conducted them to the kinge's chamber, and presenting them before him, sayde: "Syr, beholde the companye which you haue so long time desired: who are come to do your grace humble reuerence." The king greatly astonied, went forth to meete them, and with ioyful countinaunce saide: "Welcome, Lady Countesse, and your long desired company. But what good fortune hath broughte you hither nowe?" The Countesse hauing made her obeysance, yet all frighted with feare, aunswered him: "Beholde here my Lorde your fayre AElips so long time wished for, who taking repentaunce for her former cruelty and rigor, is come to render herselfe at your commaundement." Then the king beholding the yong Countesse tremblinge for feare, like a leafe shaken with the winde (with her eyes fixed on the grounde) approching neer her, toke her by the hande, and kissing her, sayd: "Welcome, my life and soule." But she no more moued than a fierce lion enuironed with cruell beastes, stood still and helde her peace, her harte so constrayned for sorrow and despite, as she was not able to aunsweare a word. The kinge who thoughte that such passion proceeded of shame, commaunded the Gentlewomen, that were in her company, to departe the chamber, sauing the mother which broughte her to the entrie of his chamber, who withdrawing herselfe backe, left her to the mercy of loue and the kinge. So sone as the king was entred the chamber he shutte the doore after him. Which AElips perceiuinge beganne to feele a furious combate betweene her honour and life, fearing to be defloured, and seing her abandoned of al humaine succour, falling downe prostrate at his feete, she sayd vnto him: "Gracious and redoubted Prince, sithe my heauy fortune hath broughte mee hither, like an innocente Lambe to the sacrifice, and that my parents amazed through your furie, are become rauishers of me against my will, and contrary to the duety of their honor, haue deliuered me into your handes, I humbly beseech your maiestie, if there remaine in your noble personage any sparke of vertue and Princely affection, before you passe any further to satisfy your desire, to let me proue and vnderstande by effecte, if your loue be such, as oftentimes by letters and mouth you haue declared vnto me. The requeste which I will make vnto you shall be but easie, and yet shall satisfie mee more than all the contentacion of the world. Otherwise (sir) doe not thinke that so longe as my life doth continue, I am able to do that which can contente your desire. And if my sute shall seeme reasonable, and grounded vppon equitie, before I doe open and declare the same more at large, assure the performaunce thereof vnto me by oth." The king hearing her prayer to be so reasonable, wherunto rather then to refuse it, he swore by his Scepter, taking God to witnesse and all the heauenly powers for confirmacion of that which he pretended to promise: saide vnto her: "Madame, the onely maistresse and keper of my louing harte, sith of your grace and curtesie you haue vouchsafed to come vnto my Palace, to make request of my onely fauoure and good will, which now I irreuocably do consent and graunt, swearing vnto you by that honourable sacramente of Baptism, whereby I was incorporated to the Church of God, and for the loue that I beare you (for greater assuraunce I cannot giue) I will not refuse any thing, that is in my power and abilitie, to the intent you may not be in doubt whether I do loue you, and intend hereafter to imploy my selfe to serue and pleasure you: for otherwyse I should falsify my faith, and more feruently I cannot bind my selfe if I shoulde sweare by all the othes of the worlde." The fayre Countesse sitting still vpon her knees, although the king many times prayed her to rise vp, reuerently toke the king by the hand, saying: "And I do kisse this royal hand for loyall testimonie of the fauour which vour grace doth shew me." Then plucking out a sharpe knife, which was hidden under her kirtle, all bathed and washed in teares, reclining her pitifull eyes towardes the king, that was appalled with that sight, she said vnto him: "Sir, the gift that I require, and wherfore your faith is bound, is this. I most humblie desire you, that rather then to dispoile me of mine honour, with the sworde girded by your side, you do vouchsafe to ende my life, or to suffer me presently, with this sharpe pointed knife in my hand to thrust it to my hart, that mine innocent bloud, doing the funerall honour, may beare witnesse before God of my vndefiled chastity, as being vtterly resolued honourablie to die. And that rather then to lose mine honoure, I may murther my selfe before you wyth this blade and knife in present hand." The king burning with amorous heate, beholding this pitifull spectacle, and consideringe the inuincible constancie and chastitie of the Countesse, vanquished by remorse of conscience, ioyned with like pitie, taking her by the hand, said: "Rise vp Lady, and liue from henceforth assured: for I will not ne yet pretende all the dayes of my life, to commit any thing in you against your will." And plucking the knife out of her hand, exclaimed: "This knife hereafter shall bee the pursiuant before God and men of this thine inexpugnable chastitie, the force whereof wanton loue was not able to endure, rather yelding place to vertue, which being not alienated from me, hath made me at one instant victorious ouer my selfe, which by and by I will make you to vnderstande to your greate contentacion and greater maruel. For assuraunce wherof I desire none other thing of you, but a chaste kisse." Which receyued, hee opened the doore and caused the Countesse to come in with the Secretarie and the gentlewomen, and the same time hee called also the Courtiers and Piers of the Realme, which were then in the base Court of the Palace, among whom was the Archbishop of Yorke, a man of great reputacion and singuler learning, to whom with the knife in his hand he recited particulerly the discourse of his loue: and after he toke the Countesse by the hande, and sayde vnto her: "Madame, the houre is come that for recompence of your honest chastity and vertue, I wil and consent to take you to wife, if you thincke good." The Countesse hearinge those wordes began to recoloure her bleake and pale face with a vermilion teinte and roseal rudde, and accomplished with incredible delight and ioye, falling downe at his feete, said vnto him "My Lord, for asmuch as I neuer loked to be aduaunced to so honourable state as fortune nowe doth offer, for merite of a benefit so high and great which you present vnto me, vouchsauing to abase your selfe to the espousal of so poore a Lady, your maiesties pleasure being such, behold me ready at your commaundement." The king taking her vp from kneeling on the ground, commaunded the Bishop to pronounce with highe voice the vsual words of Matrimonie. Then drawing a riche Diamond from his finger hee gaue it to the Countesse, and kissing her, saide: "Madame, you be Queene of England, and presently I doe giue you thirty thousande angells by the yeare for your reuenew. And the Duchie of Lancaster being by confiscation fallen into my hands, I guie also vnto you, to bestowe vppon your selfe and your frends." Al which inrolled according to the maner of the countrie, the king (accomplishing the mariage) rewarded the Countesse for the rigorous interestes of his so long loue, with suche hap and content as they may iudge which haue made assay of like pleasure, and recouered the fruite of so long pursute. And the more magnificentlye to solemnize the mariage, the kinge assembled all the Nobilitie of Englande, and somoned them to be at London the first day of July then folowinge, to beautifie and assist the Nupcialles and coronation of the Queene. Then he sente for the father and brethren of the Queene, whom he embraced one after an other, honouring the Earle as his father, and his sonnes as his brethren, wherof the Earle wonderfully reioysed, seinge the conceyued hope of his daughter's honour sorted to so happie effecte, as well to the perpetual fame of him and his, as to the euerlasting aduauncement of his house. At the appointed day the Queene was broughte from her father's house apparelled with Royall vestures, euen to the Palace, and conducted with an infinite nomber of Lords and Ladies to the Church, where when seruice was done, the kinge was maried (againe) openly, and the same celebrated, shee was conueyed vp into a publike place, and proclamed Queene of England, to the exceedinge gratulacion and ioye incredible of all the subiectes.



AN ADUERTISEMENT

To the Reader.

After these tragicall Nouelles and dolorous Histories of Bandello, I haue thoughte good for thy recreacion, to refresh thy mind with some pleasaunt deuises and disportes: least thy spirites, and sences should be apalled and astonned with the sondrie kindes of cruelties remembred in the vij. of the former nouelles. Which be so straunge and terrible as they be able to affright the stoutest. And yet considering that they be very good lessons for auoyding like inconueniences, and apt examples for continuacion of good and honest life, they are the better to be borne with, and may with lesse astonnishment be read and marked. They that follow, be mitigated and sweetened with pleasure, not altogether so sower as the former be. Prayinge thee moste hartely, paciently to beare with those that shall occure, either in these that folow, or in the other that are past before.



END OF VOL I.

BALLANTYNE PRESS: EDINBURGH AND LONDON.

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[The following seven pages, here separated by single rows of asterisks, originally appeared at the beginning of the printed book.]

* * * * *

Anglistica & Americana

Georg Olms Hildesheim

* * * * *

WILLIAM PAINTER

THE PALACE OF PLEASURE

* * * * *

Anglistica & Americana

A Series of Reprints Selected by Bernhard Fabian, Edgar Mertner, Karl Schneider and Marvin Spevack

3

1968

Georg Olms Verlagsbuchhandlung Hildesheim

* * * * *

WILLIAM PAINTER

The Palace of Pleasure

Edited by Joseph Jacobs

(1890)

Vol. I



1968 Georg Olms Verlagsbuchhandlung Hildesheim

* * * * *

Note

The present slightly reduced facsimile is reproduced from a copy in the possession of the University of Muenster (Englisches Seminar).

Shelfmark: XVI 4043/4.

M. S.

Reprographischer Nachdruck der Ausgabe London 1890 Printed in Germany Herstellung: fotokop wilhelm weihert, Darmstadt Best-Nr. 5101932

* * * * *

PALACE OF PLEASURE

VOL. I.

* * * * *

Of this Edition five hundred and fifty copies have been printed, five hundred of which are for sale.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Errors and Anomalies (transcriber's list)

The printed book did not include an Errata list. It is therefore impossible to tell whether irregularities of spelling, punctuation and typography in the primary text are unique to the Jacobs edition (1890), or whether they were deliberately carried over from Haslewood (1813) and/or Painter (1566 and later).

Brackets [ ] and footnotes: Brackets are used to demarcate footnotes and Transcriber's Notes, each of which is clearly identified, and for the "unpacked" characters noted at the beginning of this e-text. All other bracketed text is in the original. Footnote labels were changed from symbols (asterisk, dagger ...) to continuous numbering. Note that the bracketed numerals [89] and [95] are in the original text; footnote numbering ends at [68].

Braces { }: In older texts quoted in the introduction, letters originally printed as superscripts are shown in braces. In the primary text, missing or invisible punctuation—chiefly quotation marks—is shown in {braces}. Braces do not occur in the original.

Parentheses ( ): In older texts quoted in the introduction, expanded abbreviations are shown in parentheses. All other parentheses are in the original.

Asterisks *: In the Bibliographical Notices and on the title page, text originally printed in blackletter ("Gothic") type is shown between asterisks. Single asterisks are in the original text.

Slash /: All slashes / are in the original.

Inconsistencies

at least five children : their six children The first reference is from Jacobs's introduction, the second from Haslewood's.

Giovanne : Giovanni (Boccaccio) Jacobs's introduction favors the spelling in "e".

renowm(e) : renown(e) In the primary text, the word is spelled with "m" far more often than with "n". the end(e) : thend(e) and similar pairs both forms are used

Introduction, including quotations of older material

See above about {braces} and (parentheses).

[Table of Contents] Randolpho Ruffolo novel has "Landolpho" Footnote 3: See Burckhardt, Cultur der Renaisance in Italien spelling "Renaisance" unchanged the number comes from the Cento novelle antichi text reads "autichi" Inglese italianato e un / diabolo incarnato (in Jacobs text) accent on "e" missing in original doth easelie allure / the mynde to false opinions "t" in "the" printed upside-down by the time Shakespeare / began to write text reads "Shakepeare" At any rate / it is a tolerably easy task text reads "any-/rate" at line break See Cens. Lit. Vol. II. / p. 212. Where it appears punctuation and capitalization unchanged Willm Paint{er} confesseth printed "Paint confesseth" with curved line over "t" as brought into her maties Store text unchanged: error for ma{ties} with superscript? Source.—Boccaccio, Decamerone text reads "Boccaccio's, Decamerone" Source and Origin.—Herod, iv. 110. text reads "Origen" that had abused hir, and promised her mariage text reads "marlage"

Introduction: Punctuation

at the Dominican monastery of Sta. Maria delle / Grazie _period after "Sta." missing in original_ "In case I dye _text appears to have single quote for double_ PENSE.] 1566. _JMPRINTED AT_ *London, by Henry Denham,* _closing bracket after "PENSE." missing in original_ Anno. 1567. Imprinted &c. _text has close quote at end of paragraph_ Deceaved by him of the some of one{C} xliij{lb}. _period (full stop) at end of paragraph missing or invisible_ [... in 1577 (Fleay, _Hist. of Stage_, p. 380).] _text has final period (full stop) outside closing bracket_ _Parallels._ Justin, i. 7. _period (full stop) after "Parallels" missing_ _Painter_, I. i. 27; II. i. 25; III. i. 44; IV. i. 58. _text has closing bracket at end of line_ Val. Max., viii. 13, 5; Sueton. _Tib._, 2 _text has colon : for semicolon ;_ _Painter_, I. i. 48; II. i. 45; III. i. 81; IV. i. 95. _text has closing bracket at end of line_ _Parallels_. Val. Max. v. 7 _period (full stop) after "Parallels" missing_ _Parallels_. Erasmus, _Adagio_; _period (full stop) after "Parallels" missing_ Footnote 66: Landau, _Quellen_{2}, p. 331 _text reads "_Quellen_,{2}" (comma before superscript numeral)_ _Denks. K. Akad._ _final period (full stop) missing or invisible_ _Amorous hysterie of Guistard_, 1532; Howell, _Letters_ _text reads "... Guistard_; 1532, Howell"_

Primary Text

Missing or invisible punctuation—chiefly quotation marks—is shown in {braces} without further annotation.

De beneuolentia autem, quam quisq'; habeat erganos abbreviation for "quisque" he that is daily resiant / in a Palace of renowmed fame variant form of "resident" I my selfe haue already done many other of thesame error for "the same" (two-word form used consistently) pssiang by the Albanes campe in the night error for "passing" if I may speake rather the truthe, / then vtter any glosing woordes probably a variant spelling of "glozing" and the valiaunt deliuerie thereof by Mutius Sc[oe]uola [4939 error for "Scaevola" (spelling used elsewhere) King Craesus of Lydia [5655 spelling consistent throughout story she is tickle and can not be / holden against her will [6429 error for "fickle"? infect the the same wyth the degenerate food [7039 duplicate "the the" in original at line break their beades / in their handes [7725 not an error whom the Marques Azzo lou d / as his life [8072 "e" invisible: "loued" he gaue them all saying. "That there was nothing els." error for "saying, " with comma? that had no sense of a a reasonable man duplicate "a a" in original at line break he espyed a yonge maide of fimal yeares word "fimal" unidentified maister Appian hauing commauuded error for "commaunded" this and the following four items (through the first "alablaster") all occur in story XLV my sole and ouely heyre error for "onely" "how easie a matter it is for one that that is hole duplicate "that that" in original at mid-line and to sing psalmes for ioye of the deliueaunce of their Duchesse error for "deliueraunce" colour began to renew her alablaster cheekes whitenesse of her alablaster face standard spelling for the period the fauour which vour grace doth shew me error for "your" or physical flaw; in the font used, "v" is indistinguishable from the top part of "y" I guie also vnto you error for "giue"

THE END