John Lyly: Euphues and his England 1580
(Original spelling, slightly updated by incorporating,
for clarity, the author's changes in later editions)
Transcribed by Barboura Flues
Edited, designed, and published on the web by Robert Brazil
All rights reserved, text/layout copyright 2006, B. Flues, R. Brazil, and

Euphues and his England,
his voyage and aduentures, myxed with
sundry pretie discourses of honest
Loue, the discription of the countrey,
the Court, and the manners of that

be read, and nothing hurtfull to be regar-
ded: wherein there is small offence
by lightnesse gluen to the wise,
and lesse occasion of loose-
nes proffered to the

By Iohn Lyly, Maister
of Arte.

Commend it, or amend it.

Imprinted at London for Gabriell Cawood, dwelling
in Paules Church-yard. 1580.

Euphues and his England.

EUphues having gotten all things necessary for his voyage into England, accompanied onelye with Philautus, tooke shipping the first of December, 1579, by our English Computation: Who as one resolved to see that with his eies, which he had oftentimes heard with his eares, began to use this perswasion to his friend Philautus, aswell to counsell him how he should behave him-selfe in England, as to comfort him beeing nowe on the Seas.

As I have found thee willing to be a fellow in my travell, so would I have thee ready to be a follower of my counsell: in the one shalt thou shew thy good will, in the other manifest thy wisdome. Wee are now sayling into an Iland of smal compasse as I gesse by their Maps, but of great civility as I hear by their maners, which if it be so, it behooveth us to be more inquisitive of their conditions, then of their countrey: and more carefull to marke the natures of their men, then curious to note the situation of the place. And surely me thinketh we cannot better bestow our time on the Sea, then in advise how to behave our selves when we come to the shore: for greater daunger is ther to arive in a straunge countrey where the inhabitants be pollitique, then to be tossed with the troublesome waves, where the Mariners be unskilfull. Fortune guideth men in the rough Sea, but Wisdome ruleth them in a straunge land.

If Travailers in this our age were as warye of their conditions, as they be venterous of their bodyes, or as willing to reape profit by their paines, as they are to endure perill for their pleasure, they would either prefer their own foyle (sic.?) before a straunge Land, or good counsell before their owne conceyte. But as the young scholler in Athens went to heare Demosthenes eloquence at Corinth, and was entangled with Lais beautie, so most of our travailers which pretend to get a smacke of straunge language to sharpen their wits, are infected with vanity by following their wils. Daunger and delight growe both uppon one stalke, the Rose and the Canker in one bud, white and blacke are commonly in one border. Seeing then my good Philautus, that we are not to conquer wilde beasts by fight, but to confer with wise men by pollicie: We ought to take greater heede that we be not intrapped in follye, then feare to bee subdued by force. And heere by the way it shall not be amisse, aswell to drive away the tediousnesse of time, as to delight our selves with talke, to rehearse an olde treatise of an auncient Hermitte, who meeting with a pylgrime at his Cell, uttered a straunge and delightfull tale, which if thou Philautus are disposed to heare, and these present attentive to have, I will spende some time about it, knowing it both fit for us that be travailers to learne wit, and not unfit for these that be Merchaunts to get wealth.

Philautus although the stumpes of love so sticked in his mind, that he rather wished to heare an Eelegie in Ovid, then a tale of an Hermit: yet was hee willing to lend his eare to his friende, who had left his heart with his Lady, for you shal understand that Philautus having read the Cooling Carde which Euphues sent him, sought rather to aunswere it, then allow it. And I doubt not but if Philautus fall into his olde vaine in England, you shall heare of his new device in Italy. And although some shall thinke it impertinent to the historie, they shall not finde it repugnant, no more then in one nosegay to set two flowers, or in one counterfaite two coulours, which bringeth more delight, then disliking.

Philautus aunswered Euphues in this manner.

MY good Euphues, I am as willing to heare thy tale, as I am to be pertaker of thy travaile, yet I knowe not howe it commeth to passe, that my eyes are eyther heavy against foule weather, or my head so drowsie against some ill newes, that this tale shall come in good time to bring me a sleepe, and then shall I get no harme by the Hermit, though I get no good: the other that wer then in the shippe flocked about Euphues, who began in this manner.

THere dwelt some-tymes in the Iland Scyrum, an auncient gentleman called Cassander, who aswell as by his being a long gatherer, as his trad being a lewd usurer, waxed so wealthy, that he was thought to have almost all the money in that countrey in his owne coffers, being both aged and sickly, found such weaknesse in him-selfe, that he thought nature would yeeld to death, and phisicke to his diseases. 'This Gentleman had one onely sonne, who nothing resembled the father either in fancie or favour, which the olde manne perceiving, dissembled with him both in nature and honestie, whom he caused to be called unto his bedside, and the chamber beeing voyded, he brake with him in these tearmes.

Callimachus (for so was hee called) thou art too young to dye, and I too old to lyve: yet as nature must of necessitie pay hir debt to death, so must she also shew hir devotion to thee, whome I alive had to be the comfort of myne age, and whome alone I must leave behynde mee, for to bee the onely maynteiner of all myne honour. If thou couldest aswell conceive the care of a father, as I can level at the nature of a childe, or wer I as able to utter my affection towards a sonne as thou oughtest to shew thy duety to thy sire, then wouldest thou desire my life to enjoy my counsell, and I should correct thy life to amend thy conditions: yet so tempered, as neyther rigor might detract any thing from affection in me, or feare any whit from thee, in duety. But seeing my selfe so feeble that I cannot live to bee thy guyde, I am resolved to give thee such counsell as may do thee good, wher-in I shal shew my care, and discharge my duetie.

My good sonne, thou art to receive by my death wealth, and by my counsel wisdom, and I would thou wert as willing to imprint the one in thy hart, as thou wilt be ready to beare the other in thy purse: to bee rich is the gift of Fortune, to bee wise the grace of God. Have more minde on thy bookes then my bags, more desire of godlinesse then gold, greater affection to dye well, then to live wantonly.

But as the Cypresse tree, the more it is watered, the more it withereth, and the oftner it is lopped, the sooner it dyeth, so unbrideled youth, the more it is also by grave advise counselled, or due correction controlled, the sooner it falleth to confusion, hating all reasons that would bring it from folly, as that tree doth all remedies, that should make it fertile.

Alas Callimachus, when wealth commeth into the handes of youth before they can use it, then fall they to al disorder that may be, tedding that with a forke in one yeare, which was not gathered together with a rake, in twentie.

But why discourse I with thee of worldly affaires, being my self going to heaven, heere Callimachus take the key of yonder great barred Chest, wher thou shalt finde such store of wealth, that if thou use it with discretion, thou shalt become the onely rich man of the world. Thus turning him on his left side, with a deepe sigh and pitifull grone, gave up the ghoast.

Callimachus, having more minde to looke to the locke, then for a shrowding sheete, the breath beeing scarce out of his fathers mouth, & his body yet panting with heate, opened the Chest, where he found nothing, but a letter written very faire, sealed up with his Signet of armes, with this superscription:

In finding nothing, thou shalt gaine all things.

Callimachus, although hee were abashed at sight of the emptie Chest, yet hoping this letter would direct him to the golden Myne, he boldly opened it, the contents whereoff follow in these termes.

WIsedome is great wealth. Sparing, is good getting. Thrift consisteth not in golde, but grace. It is better to dye with-out money, then to live with out modestie. Put no more clothes on thy back, then will expell colde: neither any more meat in thy belly, then may quench hunger. Use not change in attire, nor varietie in thy dyet: the one bringeth pride, the other surfets. Each vaine, voyd of pietie: both costly, wide of profit.

Goe to bed with the Lambe, & rise with the Larke: Late watching in the night, breedeth unquyet: & long sleeping in the day, ungodlinesse: Flye both: this, as unwholsome: that, as unhonest.

Enter not into bands, no not for thy best friends: he that payeth an other mans debt seeketh his own decay, it is as rare to see a rich Surety, as a black Swan, and he that lendeth to all that will borrowe, sheweth great good will, but lyttle witte. Lende not a penny without a pawne, for that will be a good gage to borowe. Be not hastie to marry, it is better to have one plough going, then two cradells: and more profit to have a barne filled then a bedde. But if thou canst not live chastly, chuse such an one, as maye be more commended for humilitie, then beautie. A good huswife, is a great patrimony: and she is most honourable, that is most honest. If thou desire to be olde, beware of too much wine: If to be healthy, take heede of many women: If too be rich, shunne playing at all games. Long quaffing, maketh a short lyfe: Fonde lust, causeth drye bones: and lewd pastimes, naked pursses. Let the Cooke be thy Phisition, and the shambles thy Apothecaries shop: He that for every qualme wil take a Receipt, and can-not make two meales, unlesse Galen be his Gods good: shall be sure to make the Phisition rich, and himselfe a begger; his bodye will never be with-out diseases, and his pursse ever with-out money.

Be not too lavish in giving almes, the charitie of this Countrey, is, God helpe thee: and the courtesie, I have the best wine in towne for you.

Live in the Countrey, not in the Court: where neither Grasse will growe, nor Mosse cleave to thy heeles.

Thus hast thou if thou canst use it, the whole wealth of the world: and he that can not follow good counsel, never can get commoditie. I leave thee more, then thy father left me: For he dying, gave me great wealth, without care how I might keepe it: and I give thee good counsell, with all meanes how to get riches. And no doubt, what so is gotten with witte, will bee kept with warinesse, and encreased with Wisedome.

God blesse thee, and I blesse thee: and as I tender thy safetie, so God deale with my soule.

Callimaches was stroken into such a maze, at this his fathers last Will, that he had almost lost his former wit: And being in an extreame rage, renting his clothes and tearing his haire, began to utter these words.

Is this the nature of a Father to deceive his sonne, or the part of crabbed age, to delude credulous youth? Is the death bedde which ought to bee the ende of devotion, become the beginning of deceipt? Ah Cassander, friend I can-not terme thee, seeing thee so unkinde: and father I will not call thee, whome I finde so unnaturall.

Who so shall heare of this ungratefulnesse, will rather lament thy dealyng, then thy death: and marvel that a man affected outwardly with such great gravitie, should inwardly be infected with so great guile. Shall I then show the duetie of a childe, when thou hast forgotten the Nature of a Father? No, no, for as the Torch bourned downewarde, is extinguished with the self-same waxe which was the cause of his lyght: so Nature tourned to unkindenesse, is quenched by those meanes it shoulde be kindeled, leaving no braunch of love, where it founde no roote of humanitie.

Thou hast caryed to thy grave more graye haires, then yeares and yet more yeares, then vertues. Couldest thou under the Image of so precise holynesse, harbour the expresse patterne of barbarous crueltie? I see now, that as the Canker soonest entreth into the white Rose, so corruption doth easliest creepe into the white head.

Would Callimachus could as well disgest thy malyce with patience, as thou diddest disguise it with craft: or would I might either burie my care with thy carcasse, of that thou hadst ended thy defame with thy death.

But as the hearb Moly hath a floure as white as snow, & a roote as blacke as incke: so age hath a white head, showing pietie, but a black hart swelling with mischiefe.

Wher-by I see, that olde men are not unlyke unto olde Trees, whose barkes seemeth to be sound, when their bodies are rotten.

I will mourne, not that thou art now dead, but bicause thou hast lived so long: neither doe I weepe to see thee without breath, but to finde thee without mony.

In steede of coyne, thou hast left me counsaile: O polytique olde man. Didst thou learne by experience, that an edge can be any thing worth, if it have nothing to cut, or that Myners could worke without mettals, or Wisedome thrive, with-out where-with.

What availeth it to be a cunning Lapidarie, and have no stones? or a skilfull Pilot, and have no ship? or a thriftie man, and have no money. Wisdome hath no Mint, Counsell is no Coyner. He that in these dayes seeketh to get wealth by wit, with-out friends, is lyke unto him, that thinketh to buye meate in the market for honestie with-out money: which thriveth on either side so well, that the one hath a wittie head and an emptie pursse; the other a godly minde, & an emptie belly.

Yes, such a world it is, that Gods can do nothing with-out golde, and who of more might? nor Princes any thing with-out gifts, and who of more Majestie? nor Philosophers any thing with-out guylt, and who of more wisedome? For as among the Aegyptians, there was no man esteemed happie, that had not a beast full of spots, so amongst us ther is none accompted wise that hath not a purse full of golde. And haddest thou not loved money so well, thou wouldest never have lived so warily and died so wickedly, who either burying thy treasure, doest hope to meete it in hell, or borowing it of the Divel hast rendred him the whole, the interest where-of I feare me commeth to no lesse then the price of thy soule.

But whether art thou caried, Callimachus, rage can neither reduce thy fathers life, nor recover his treasure. Let it suffice thee, that he was unkinde, and thou unfortunate, that he is dead and heareth thee not, that thou art a live and profitest nothing.

But what did my father think, that too much wealth would make me proud, and feared not too great misery would make me desperate? Whilest he was beginning a fresh to renew his complaints & revile his parents, his kinsfolke assembled, who caused him to bridle his lavish tongue, although they mervailed at his pitious tale: For it was well knowne to them all, that Cassander had more mony then halfe the countrey, and loved Callimachus better then his own selfe.

Callimachus by the importunitie of his allies, repressed his rage, setting order for all thinges requisite for his fathers funeralles, who being brought with due reverence unto the grave, hee returned home, making a short Inventorie to his fathers long Wil. And having made ready money of such movables as were in his house, putte both them and his house into his purse, resolving now with him-selfe in this extremitie, eyther with the hazarde of his labour to gayne wealth, or by mysfortune to seeke death, accompting it great shame to live with-out travell, as griefe to bee left with-out treasure, and although hee were earnestly entreated, as well by good proffers of gentle perswasions to weane him-selfe from so desolate, or rather desperate lyfe, hee would not hearken eyther to his owne commodities or their counselles: For seeing (sayd hee) I am left heyre to all the worlde, I meane to execute my authoritie, and clayme my lands in all places of the world. Who now so rich as Callimachus? Who had as many revenues every where as in his owne countrey? Thus beeyng in a readines to departe, apparrelled in all coulours, as one fitte for all companies, and willing to see all countries, journyed three or foure dayes verye devoutlye lyke a pilgrime, who straying out of his pathway, & somwhat weary, not used to such day-labours, rested him-self uppon the side of a silver streame, even almost in the grisping of the evening, where thinking to steale a nappe, beganne to close his eyes. As he was thus between slumbring and waking, he heard one cough pitiously, which caused him to start: and seeing no creature, hee searched diligently in every bushe and under every shrubbe, at the last he lyghted on a little cave, where thrusting in his head more bolde then wise, hee espyed an olde man cladde all in gray, with a head as white as Alablaster, his hoarie beard hanging downe well neere to his knees, with him no earthly creature, saving onelye a Mouse sleeping in a Cattes eare. Over the fyre this good olde man satte, leaning his head to looke into a little earthen vessell which stoode by him.

Callimachus delyghted more then abashed at this straunge sight, thought to see the manner of his hoste, before he would be his guest.

This olde manne immediatelye tooke out of his potte certayne rootes, on the which hee fedde hungerlye, having no other drinke then fayre water. But that which was moste of all to bee considered and noted, the Mouse and the Catte fell to their victualles, beeing such reliques as the olde manne had left, yea and that so lovinglye, as one woulde have thought them both married, judging the Mouse to be verye wilde, or the Cat very tame.

Callimachus coulde not refrayne laughter to beholde the solempne feaste, at the voyce where-of the olde manne arose, and demanded who was there: unto whome Callimachus aunswered: Father, one that wisheth thee both greater cheere and better servaunts: unto whome he replyed, shoaring up his eyes, by yis sonne, I accompt the cheere good, which maintayneth health, and the servauntes honest, whome I finde faythfull. And if thou neyther thinke scorne of my company nor my Cell, enter and welcome: the which offer Callimachus accepted with great thankes, who thought his lodging would be better then his supper.

The next morning the olde manne being very inquisitive of Callimachus what he was, wher he dwelt, and whether he would, Callimachus discoursed with him in perticulers, as before, touching his Fathers death and despite, against whome hee uttered so many bytter and burning wordes, as the olde Hermittes eares gloed to heare them, and my tonge would blyster if I should utter them. More-over he added that he was determined to seeke adventures in straunge lands, and either to fetch the golden fleece by travaile, or susteine the force of Fortune by his owne wilfull follye.

Now Philautus, thou shalt understand that this olde Hermitte, whiche was named also Cassander, was Brother to Callimachus Father, and Uncle to Callimachus, unto whom Cassander had before his death conveyed the summe of tenne thousand poundes, to the use of his sonne in his most extremitie and necessitie, knowing or at the least foreseeing that his young colt will never beare a white mouth with-out a harde bridle. Also hee assured him-selfe that his brother so little tendred money being a professed Hermitte, and so much tendred and esteemed Callimachus, beeing his neere kinsman, as he put no doubt to stand to his devotion.

Cassander this olde Hermitte hearing it to bee Callimachus his Nephewe, and understanding of the death of his brother, dissembled his griefe although he were glad to see thinges happen out so well, and determined with him-selfe to make a Cosinne of his young Nevew, untyll hee had bought witte with the price of woe, wherefore he assayd first to staye him from travell, and to take some other course, more fitte for a Gentleman. And to the intent sayde hee, that I may perswade thee, give ear unto my tale, and this is the tale Philautus that I promised thee, which the Hermitte sitting nowe in the Sunne, began to utter to Callimachus.

WHen I was younge as thou nowe art, I never thought to bee olde, as nowe I am, which caused lustye bloud to attempte those thinges in youth, which akyng boanes have repented in age. I hadde one onely Brother, which also bore my name, being both borne at one tyme as twinnes, but so farre dysagreeing in nature, as hadde not as well the respecte of the just tyme, as also the certeyntie and assuraunce of our Mothers fidelitie, perswaded the worlde wee hadde one Father, it would verye hardelye have beene thought, that such contrarye dispositions coulde well have beene bredde in one wombe, or issued from ones loynes. Yet as out of one and the selfe-same roote, commeth as well the wilde Olyve, as the sweete, and as the Palme Persian Fig tree, beareth as well Apples, as Figs: so our mother thrust into the world at one time, the blossome of gravitie and lyghtnesse.

We were nursed both with one teate, where my brother sucked a desire of thrift, and I of theft: which evidently sheweth that as the breath of the Lyon, engendreth aswell the Serpent, as the Ant: and as the selfe same deaw forceth the Earth to yeelde both the Darnell and Wheat: or as the Easterly winde maketh the blossomes to blast, and the buddes to blowe: so one wombe nourished contrary wits, and one milke divers manners, which argueth something in Nature I know not what, to be mervaylous, I dare not saye monstrous.

As we grew olde in yeares, so began we to be more opposit in opinions: He grave, I gamesome: he studious, I carelesse: he without mirth, and I without modestie.

And verely, had we resembled each other, as little in favour, as we did in fancie, or disagreed as much in shape as we did in sence: I know not what Dedalus would have made a Laborynth for such Monsters, or what Appelles could have couloured such misshapes.

But as the Painter Tamantes could no way expresse the griefe of Agamemnon who saw his onely daughter sacraficed, and therefore drew him with a vale over his face, whereby one might better conceive his anguish, then he colour it: so some Tamantes seeing us, would be constrained with a Curtaine to shadow that deformitie, which no counterfait could portraie lyvely. But nature recompensed the dissimilitude of mindes, with a Sympathy of bodies, for we were in all parts one so like the other, that it was hard to distinguish either in speach, countenaunce, or height, one from the other: saving that either caried the motion of his mind, in his manners, and that the affects of the hart were bewrayed by the eyes, which made us knowen manifestly. For as two Rubies be they never so lyke, yet if they be brought together one staineth the other, so we beeing close one to the other, it was easely to imagine by the face whose vertue deserved most favour, for I could never see my brother, but his gravitie would make me blush, which caused me to resemble the Thrushe, who never singeth in the companye of the Nightingale. For whilest my Brother was in presence, I durst not presume to talke, least his wisedome might have checked my wildnesse: Much lyke to Roscius, who was alwayes dumbe, when he dined with Cato. Our Father being on his death-bed, knew not whom to ordein his heire, being both of one age: to make both, woulde breede as he thought, unquiet: to appoint but one, were as he knew injury: to devide equally, were to have no heire: to impart more to one then to the other, were partiality: to disherite me of his wealth, whom Nature had disherited of wisedome, were against reason: to barre my brother from golde, whome God seemed to endue with grace, were flatte impietie: yet calling us before him, he uttered with watrie eyes, these words.

WEre it not my sonnes, that Nature worketh more in me, then Justice, I should disherite the one of you, who promiseth by his folly to spende all, & leave the other nothing, whose wisedome seemeth to purchase all things. But I well know, that a bitter roote is amended with a sweete graft, and crooked trees prove good Cammocks, and wilde Grapes, make pleasaunt Wine Which perswadeth me, that thou (poynting to me) wilt in age repent thy youthly affections, & learne to dye as well, as thou hast lyved wantonly. As for thee (laying his hande on my brothers head) although I see more then commonly in any of thy yeares, yet knowing that those that give themselves to be bookish, are oftentimes so blockish, that they forget thrift (whereby the olde Saw is verified, that the greatest Clearkes are not the wisest men, who digge still at the roote, while others gather the fruite) I am determined to helpe thee forward, least having nothing thou desire nothing, and so be accompted as no body. He having thus said, called for two bags, the one ful of gold, the other stuft with writings, & casting them both unto us, sayd this: There my sonnes devide all as betweene you it shal be best agreed, and so rendred up his ghoast, with a pitifull grone.

My brother as one that knew his owne good, & my humour, gave me leave to chuse which bag I lyked, at the choice I made no great curiositie, but snatching the gold, let go the writings, which wer as I knew Evidences for land, oblygations for debt, too heavy for me to cary, who determined (as now thou doest Callimachus) to seeke adventures. My pursse now swelling with a timpany, I thought to serch al countries for a remedy, & sent many golden Angels into every quarter of the world, which never brought newes again to their master, being either soared into heaven, wher I cannot fetch them, or sunke into Hell for pride, wher I meane not to follow them. This life I continued the space of xiiii. yeares, until I had visited & viewed every country, & was a stranger in mine owne: but finding no treasure to be wrapped in travell, I returned with more vices, then I went forth with pence, yet with so good a grace, as I was able to sinne both by experience and authoritie, use framing me to the one, and the Countryes to the other. There was no cryme so barbarous, no murther so bloudy, no oath so blasphemous, no vice so execrable, but that I could readely recite where I learned it, and by roate repeate the peculiar crime, of everye perticular Country, Citie, Towne, Village, House, or Chamber.

If I met with one of Creete, I was readye to lye with him for the whetstone. If with a Grecian, I could dissemble with Synon. I could court it with the Italian, carous it with the Dutch-man. I learned al kinde of poysons, yea, and such as were fit for the Popes holynesse. In Aegypt I worshipped their spotted God, at Memphis. In Turkey, their Mahomet. In Rome, their Masse: which gave me not onely a remission for my sinnes past without penaunce, but also a commission to sinne ever after with-out prejudice.

There was no fashion but fitted my backe, no fancie but served my tourne: But now my Barrell of golde, which Pride set a broche, Love began to set a tilte, which in short time ranne so on the lees, that the Divell daunced in the bottome, where he found never a crosse. It were too tedious to utter my whole lyfe in this my Pilgrimage, the remembraunce where-off, doth nothing but double my repentaunce.

Then to growe to an ende, I seeing my money wasted, my apparell worne, my minde infected with as many vices, as my body with diseases, and my bodye with more maladyes, then the Leopard hath markes, having nothing for amends but a few broken languages, which served me in no more steede, then to see one meat served in divers dishes: I thought it best to retourne into my native soyle, where finding my brother as farre now to exceede others in wealth, as hee did me in wit, and that he had gayned more by thrift, then I could spende by pride, I neither envyed his estate, nor pityed mine owne: but opened the whole course of my youth, not thinking there-by to recover that of him by request, which I had lost my selfe by riot, for casting in my minde the miserie of the world with the mischiefes of my life, I determined from that unto my lives end, to lead a solitary life in this cave, which I have don the tearm of ful forty winters, from whence, neither the earnest entreatie of my Brother, nor the vaine pleasures of the world could draw me, neyther shall any thing but death.

Then my good Callimachus, recorde with thy selfe the inconveniences that come by travailing, when on the Seas every storme shall threaten death, and every calme a daunger, when eyther thou shall be compelled to boord others as a pyrate, or feare to be boorded of others as a Marchaunt: when at all times thou must have the back of an Asse to beare all, and the snowt of a swine to say nothing, thy hand on thy cap to shew reverence to every rascall, thy purse open to be prodigall to every Boore, thy sworde in thy sheath, not once daring either to strick or ward, which maketh me think that travailers are not onely framed not to commit injuries, but also to take them. Learne Callimachus of the Byrde Acanthis, who being bredde in the thistles will live in the thistles, and of the Grashopper, who being sproung of the grasse, will rather dye then depart from the grasse. I am of this minde with Homer, that as the Snayle that crept out of hir shell was turned eftsoones into a Toad, and therby was forced to make a stoole to sit on, disdaining hir own house: so the Travailer that stragleth from his own countrey, is in short tyme transformed into so monstrous a shape, that hee is faine to alter his mansion with his manners, and to live where he canne, not where he would. What did Ulysses wish in the middest of his travailing, but onely to see the smoake of his owne Chymnie? Did not all the Romaines saye that he that wandered did nothing els but heap sorowes to his friends, and shame to himself, and resembled those that seeking to light a Lynke, quenched a Lamp, imitating the barbarous Gothes, who thought the rootes in Alexandria, sweeter then the resons in Barbary: But he that leaveth his own home, is worthy no home. In my opinion it is a homely kinde of dealing to preferre the curtesie of those he never knew, before the honesty of those among whom he was born: he that cannot live with a grot in his own country, shal never enjoy a penny in an other nation. Litle dost thou know Callimachus with what wood travaileers are warmed, who must sleepe with their eies open, least they be suspected by their lookes, and eat with their mouths close, least they be poysoned with theyr meates. Where if they wax wealthy, they shall be envied, not loved: If poore punished, not pittied: If wise, accounted espials: If foolish, made drudges. Every Gentle-man will be their peere though they be noble, and every pesaunt their Lord if they be gentle: Hee therefore that leaveth his own house to seeke adventures, is like the Quaile that forsaketh the Malowes to eat Hemlock, or the Fly that shunneth the Rose, to light in a cowshard. No Callimachus, there wil no Mosse sticke to the stone of Sisiphus, no grasse hang on heeles of Mercury, no butter cleave on the bread of a travailer. For as the Egle at every flight looseth a fether, which maketh hir bald in hir age: so the travailer in every country looseth some fleece, which maketh him a begger in his youth, buying that with a pound, which he cannot sell againe for a penny, repentaunce. But why go I about to disswade thee from that, which I my self followed, or to perswade thee to that which thou thy selfe flyest? My gray haires are like unto a white frost, thy read bloud not unlike unto a hot fyre: so that it cannot be that either thou shouldest follow my counsell, or I allow thy conditions: such a quarrel hath ther alwaies bin betwene the grave & the cradle, that he that is young thinketh the olde man fond, and the olde knoweth the young man to be a foole. But Callimachus, for the towardnes I see in thee, I must needs love thee, & for thy frowardnes, of force counsel thee: & do in the same sort, as Phoebus did that daring boy Phaeton. Thou goest about a great matter, neither fit for thy yeares being very young, nor thy profit being left so poore, thou desirest that which thou knowest not, neither can any performe that which thou seemest to promise. If thou covet to travaile straunge countries, search the Maps, there shalt thou see much, with great pleasure & smal paines, if to be conversant in al courts, read histories, where thou shalt understand both what the men have ben, & what their maners are, & me thinketh ther must be much delight, when ther is no danger. And if thou have any care either of the greene bud which springeth out of the tender stalke, or the timely fruite which is to grow of so good a roote, seeke not to kill the one, or hasten the other: but let time so work that grafts may be gathered off the tree, rather then sticks to burn. And so I leave thee, not to thy self, but to him that made thee, who guid thee with his grace, whether thou go as thou wouldest, or tarry at home as thou shouldest.

Callimachus obstinate in his fond conceit, was so far from being perswaded by this old Hermit, that he rather made it a greater occasion of his pilgrimage, & with an answer betwen scorning and resoning, he replied thus.

Father or friend (I know not verye well howe to tearme you) I have beene as attentive to heare your good discourse, as you were willing to utter it: yet mee thinketh you deale marvailouslye with youth, in seeking by sage counsell to put graye hayres on their chins, before nature hath given them almost any hayres on their heades: where-in you have gone so farre, that in my opinion your labour had bene better spent in travailing where you have not lyved, then in talking wher you cannot be beleeved. You have bene a Travailer and tasted nothing but sowre, therefore who-soever travaileth, shall eate of the same sauce: an Argument it is, that your fortune was ill, not that others should be as bad, and a warning to make you wise, not a warning to prove others unfortunate. Shal a souldier that hath received a skar in the battaile, give out that all warriours shall be maymed? Or the Marchaunt that hath lost by the Seas, be a cause that no other should venture, or a travailer that hath sustained harm by sinister fortune, or bene infected by his own folly, disswade al Gentlemen to rest at their own home till they come to their long home? Why then let al men abstaine from wine, bicause it made Alexander tipsie, let no man love a woman for that Tarquine was banished, let not a wise man play at al, for that a foole hath lost al: which in my minde would make such medly, that wee should bee enforced to leave things that were best, for feare they may bee badde, and that were as fond as not to cut ones meate with that knife that an other hath cut his finger. Things are not to be judged by the event, but by the ende, nor travailing to be condemned by yours or manies unluckie successe, but by the common and most approved wisdome of those that canne better shew what it is then I, and will better speake of it then you doe.

Where you alledge Ulisses that he desired nothing so much, as to see the smoake of Ithaca, it was not b icause he loved not to travaile, but that he longed to see his wife after his travaile: and greater commendation brought his travail to him, then his wit: the one taught but to speake, the other what he should speake. And in this you tourne the poynt of your owne bodkin into your owne bosome. Ulisses was no lesse esteemed for knowledge he had of other countryes, then for the revenewes he had in his own, & wher in the ende, you seeme to refer me to the viewing of Maps, I was never of that minde to make my ship in a Painters shop, which is lyke those, who have great skill in a wodden Globe, but never behold the Skie. And he that seeketh to bee a cunning travailer by seeing the Mappes, and an expert Astronomer, by turning the Globe, may be an Apprentice for Appelles, but no Page for Ulisses.

Another reason you bring, that travailing is costly: I speake for my selfe. He that hath lyttle to spende, hath not much to lose, and he that hath nothing in his owne countrey, can-not have lesse in any.

Would you have me spend the floure of my youth, as you doe the withered rase of your age? can the faire bloude of youth creepe into the ground as it were frost bitten? No Father Hermit, I am of Alexanders minde, if there were as many worlds, as there be cities in the world, I would never leave untill I had seene all the worlds, and each citie in everie world. Therefore to be short, nothing shall alter my minde, neither penny nor Pater noster.

This olde man seeing him so resolute, resolved to let him depart, and gave him this Fare-well.

MY good sonne though thou wilt not suffer mee to perswade thee, yet shalt thou not let mee to pittie thee, yea and to pray for thee: but the tyme will come when comming home by weeping crosse, thou shalt confesse, that it is better to be at home in the cave of an Hermit then abroad in the court of an Emperour, and that a crust with quietnesse, shall be better then Quayles with unrest. And to the ende thou maist prove my sayings as true, as I know thy selfe to bee wilfull, take the paines to retourne by this poore Cel, where thy fare shall be amended, if thou amende thy fault, and so farewell.

Callimachus courteously tooke his leave, and went his waye: but we will not leave him till we have him againe, at the Cell, where we found him.

NOw Philautus and Gentlemen all, suppose that Callimachus had as il fortune, as ever had any, his minde infected with his body, his time consumed with his treasure: nothing won, but what he cannot loose though he would, Miserie. You must imagine (bicause it were too long to tell all his journey) that he was Sea sicke, (as thou beginnest to be Philautus) that he hardly escaped death, that he endured hunger and colde, heate with-out drinke, that he was entangled with women, entraped, deceived, that every stoole he sate on, was penniles bench, that his robes were rags, that he had as much neede of a Chirurgian as a Phisition, and that thus he came home to the Cell, and with shame and sorrow, began to say as followeth.

I Finde too late yet at length that in age there is a certeine foresight, which youth can not search, and a kinde of experience, unto which unripened yeares cannot come: so that I must of necessitie confesse, that youth never raineth wel, but when age holdeth the bridell, you see (my good father) what I would say by outward shew, and I neede not tell what I have tryed, bicause before you tolde me I shoulde finde it: this I say, that whatsoever miserie happened either to you or any, the same hath chaunced to me alone. I can say no more, I have tryed no lesse.

The olde Hermit glad to see this ragged Colte retourned, yet grieved to see him so tormented, thought not to adde sower words to augment his sharp woes, but taking him by the hande, and sitting down, began after a solempn manner, from the beginning to the ende, to discourse with him of his fathers affaires, even after the sort that before I rehearsed, and delyvered unto him his money, thinking now that miserie woulde make him thriftie, desiring also, that aswell for the honour of his Fathers house, as his owne credite, hee would retourne againe to the Islande, and there be a comfort to his friends, and a reliefe to his poore neighbours, which woulde be more worth then his wealth, and the fulfilling of his Fathers last Will.

Callimachus not a little pleased with this tale, & I thinke not much displeased with the golde, gave such thankes, as to such a friend appertained, and following the counsel of his unckle, which ever after he obeyed as a commaundement, he came to his owne house, lived long with great wealth, and as much worship as any one in Scyrum, and whether he be now lyving, I know not, but whether he be or no, it skilleth not.

Now Philautus, I have tolde this tale, to this ende, not that I thinke travailing to be ill if it be used wel, but that such advice be taken, yet the horse carry not his own bridle, nor youth rule himself in his own conceits. Besides that, such places are to be chosen, wher-in to inhabit as are as commendable for vertue, as buildings: where the miners are more to be marked, then, the men seene. And this was my whole drift, either never to travaile, or so to travaile, as although the pursse be weakened, the minde may be strengthened. For not he that hath seene most countries is most to be esteemed, but he that learned best conditions: for not so much are the scituation of the places to be noted, as the vertues of the persons. Which is contrarie to the common practise of our travailers, who goe either for gaine, and returne with-out knowledge, or for fashion sake, and come home with-out pietie: Whose estates are as much to be lamented, as their follyes are to be laughed at.

This causeth youth, to spende their golden time, with-out either praise or profit, pretending a desire of learning, when they onely followe loytering. But I hope our travell shal be better employed, seeing vertue is the white we shoote at, not vanitie: neither the English tongue (which as I have heard is almost barbarous) but the English manners, which as I thinke are most precise. And to thee Philautus I begin to addresse my speach, having made an end of mine hermits tale, and if these few precepts I give thee be observed, then doubt not but we both shall learne that we best lyke. And these they are.

AT thy comming into England be not too inquisitive of newes, neither curious in matters of State, in assemblies aske no questions, either concerning manners or men. Be not lavish of thy tongue, either in causes of weight, least thou shew thy selfe as a espyall, or in wanton talke, least thou prove thy selfe a foole.

It is the Nature of that country to sift straungers: every one that shaketh thee by the hand, is not joyned to thee in heart. They thinke Italians wanton, & Grecians subtill, they will trust neither they are so incredulous: but undermine both, they are so wise. Be not quarrellous for every lyght occasion: they are impatient in their anger of any equal, readie to revenge an injury, but never wont to profer any: they never fight without provoking, & once provoked they never cease. Beware thou fal not into the snares of love, the women there are wise, the men craftie: they will gather love by thy lookes, and picke thy minde out of thy hands. It shal be there better to heare what they say, then to speak what thou thinkest: They have long ears and short tongues, quicke to heare, and slow to utter, broad eyes, and light fingers, ready to espy and apt to stricke. Every straunger is a marke for them to shoote at: yet this must I say which in no country I can tell the like, that it is as seldome to see a straunger abused there, as it is rare to see anye well used els where: yet presume not too much of the curtesies of those, for they differ in natures, some are hot, some cold, one simple, and the other wilie, yet if thou use a few words and fayre speaches, thou shalt commaund any thing thou standes in neede of.

Touching the situation of the soile I have read in my studie, which I partly beleeve (having no worse Author then Caesar) yet at my comming, when I shal conferre the thinges I see, with those I have read, I will judge accordingly. And this have I heard, that the inner parte of Brittaine is inhabited by such as were born and bred in the Isle, and the Sea-choast by such as have passed thether out of Belgick to search booties & to make war. The country is mervailouslye replenished with people, and there be many buildings almost like in fashion to the buildings of Gallia, there is great store of cattell, the coyn they use is either of brasse or els rings of Iron, sised at a certain weight in steede of money. In the inner parts of the Realme groweth tinne, and in the sea coast groweth yron. The brasse that they occupy is brought in from beyond-sea. The ayre is more temperate in those places then in Fraunce, and the colde lesser. The Island is in fashion three cornered, wher-of one side is toward Fraunce, the one corner of this side which is in Kent, where for the most part Shippes arive out of Fraunce, is in the East, and the other nethermore, is towardes the South. This side containeth about five hundred miles, an other side lyeth toward Spain and the Sunne going down, on the which side is Ireland, lesse then Brittain as is supposed by the one halfe: but the cut betweene them, is like the distaunce that is betweene Fraunce and Brittaine.

In the middest of this course is an Island called Man, the length of this side is (according to the opinion of the Inhabiters) seven hundred miles. The third side is northward, & against it lyeth no land, but the poynt of that side butteth most uppon Germany. This they esteeme to be eight hundred miles long, and so the circuit of the whole Island is two thousand miles. Of al the Inhabitants of this Isle, the Kentish men are most civilest, the which country marcheth altogether upon the sea, & differeth not greatly from the maner of France. They that dwell more in the hart of the Realme sow corne, but live by milk and flesh, and cloth themselves in lether. All the Brittaines doe die them-selves with woad, which setteth a blewish coulour upon them, and it maketh them more terrible to beholde in battaile. They weare their hayre long and shave all partes of their bodyes, saving the head and the upper lippe. Divers other uses and customes are among them, as I have read Philautus: But whether these be true or no, I wil not say: for me thinketh an Island so well governed in peace then, and so famous in victories, so fertile in all respects, so wholsome and populous, must needes in the terme of a thousand yeares be much better, and I beleeve we shall finde it such, as we never read the like of any, and until we arrive there, we wil suspend our judgementes: Yet do I meane at my returne from thence to draw the whole discription of the Land, the customes, the nature of the people, the state, the government, & whatsoever deserveth either mervaile or commendation.

Philautus not accustomed to these narrow Seas, was more redy to tell what wood the ship was made of, then to aunswer to Euphues discourse: yet between waking and winking, as, one halfe sicke and some-what sleepy, it came in his braynes, aunswered thus.

In fayth Euphues thou hast told a long tale, the beginning I have forgotten, the middle I understand not, and the end hangeth not together: therfore I cannot repeat it as I would, nor delight in it as I ought: yet if at our arrivall thou wilt renew thy tale, I will rub my memorie: in the meane season, would I wer either again in Italy, or now in England. I cannot brook these Seas, which provoke my stomack sore. I have an appetite, it wer best for me to take a nap, for every word is brought forth with a nod.

Euphues replied. I cannot tell Philautus whether the Sea make thee sicke, or she that was borne of the Se : if the first, thou hast a quesie stomacke: if the latter, a wanton desire. I wel beleve thou remembrest nothing that may doe thee good, nor forgettest any thing which can do thee harme, making more of a soare then a plaister, and wishing rather to be curssed then cured, where-in thou agreest with those which having taken a surfet, seeke the meanes rather to sleepe then purge, or those that having the greene sicknes, & are brought to deaths dore follow their own humour, and refuse the Phisitions remedy. And such Philautus is thy desease, who pining in thine owne follies, chusest rather to perish in love, then to live in wisdome, but what-soever be the cause, I wish the effect may answer my friendly care: then doubtles you shalt neither die being seasick, or doat being love sick. I would the Sea could aswel purge thy mind of fond conceits, as thy body of grose humours. Thus ending, Philautus againe begun to urge.

Without dout Euphues you dost me great wrong, in seeking a skar in a smoth skin, thinking to stop a vain wher none opened, and to cast love in my teeth, which I have already spit out of my mouth, which I must needes thinke proceedeth rather for lacke of matter, then any good meaning, els woldest thou never harp on that string which is burst in my hart, and yet ever sounding in thy eares. Thou art like those that procure one to take phisick before he be sick, and to apply a searcloth to his bodye, when he feeleth no ach, or a vomit for a surfet, when his stomacke is empty. If ever I fall to mine old Byas, I must put thee in the fault that talkes of it, seeing thou didst put me in the minde to think of it, wher-by thou seemest to blow the cole which thou woldest quench, setting a teene edge, wher thou desirest to have a sharp poynt, ymping a fether to make me flye, when thou oughtest rather to cut my wing for feare of a soaring.

Lucilla is dead, and she upon whome I gesse thou harpest is forgotten: the one not to be redeemed, the other not to be thought on: Then good Euphues wring not a horse on the withers, with a false saddle, neither imagin what I am by thy thoughts, but by mine own doings: so shalt thou have me both willing to followe good counsell, and able hereafter to give thee comfort. And so I rest halfe sleepy with the Seas.

With this aunswere Euphues held him-self content, but as much wearyed with talke as the other was with travaile, made a pyllow of his hand, and there let them both sleepe their fill and dreame with their fancies, untill either a storme cause them to wake, or their hard beds, or their journies ende.

Thus for the space of an eight weekes Euphues & Philautus sailed on the seas, from their first shipping, betwen whome divers speaches were uttered, which to resite were nothing necessary in this place, & weighing the circumstances, scarse expedient, what tempests they endured, what strang sights in the element, what monstrous fishes were seene, how often they were in daunger of drowning, in feare of boording, how wearie, how sick, how angrie, it were tedious to write, for that whosoever hath either read of travailing, or himselfe used it, can sufficiently gesse what is to be sayd. And this I leave to the judgement of those that in the like journey have spent their time from Naples to England, for if I should faine more then others have tryed, I might be thought too Poeticall: if lesse, partiall: therefore I omit the wonders, the Rockes, the markes, the goulfes, and whatsoever they passed or saw, least I should trouble divers with things they know, or may shame my selfe, with things I know not. Lette this suffice, that they are safely come within a ken of Dover, which the Master espying, with a cheerefull voyce waking them, began to utter these words unto them.

GEntlemen and friends, the longest Summers day hath his evening, Ulisses arriveth at last, & rough windes in time bring the ship to safe Road. We are now within foure houres sayling of our Haven, and as you wil thinke of an earthly heaven. Yonder white Cliffes which easely you may perceive, are Dover hils, where unto is adjoyning a strong and famous Castle, into the which Julius Caesar did enter, where you shall view many goodly monuments, both straunge & auncient. Therefore pull up your harts, this merry winde will immediately bring us to an easie bayte.

Philautus was glad he slept so long, and was awaked in so good time, beeing as weary of the seas, as he that never used them. Euphues not sorrowfull of this good newes, began to shake his cares, and was soone apparailed. To make short, the windes were so favorable, the Mariners so skilfull, the waye so short, that I feare me they will lande before I can describe the manner how, and therefore suppose them now in Dover Towne in the noble Isle of England, somwhat benighted, & more apt to sleepe then suppe. Yet for manners sake they enterteined their Master & the rest of the Merchants and Marriners, wher having in due time both recorded their travailes past, and ended their repast, every one went to his lodging, where I wil leave them soundly sleeping untill the next day.

The next day they spent in viewing the Castle of Dover, the Pyre, the Cliffes, the Road, and Towne, receiving as much pleasure by the sight of auncient monuments, as by their curteous enterteinment, no lesse praising the persons for their good mindes, then the place for the goodly buildings: & in this sort they refreshed themselves 3, or 4, daies, until they had digested the seas, & recovered again their healths, yet so warely they behaved themselves, as they wer never heard, either to enquire of any newes, or point to any fortres, beholding the bulwarkes with a slight & careles regard, but the other places of peace, with admiration. Folly it wer to shew what they saw, seing heereafter in the description of England, it shall most manifestly appeare. But I will set them forwarde in their journey, where now with-in this two houres, we shall finde them in Caunterbury.

Travailing thus like two Pilgrimes, they thought it most necessary to direct their steppes toward London, which they hard was the most royall seat of the Queene of England. But first they came to Caunterbury, an olde Citie, somewhat decayed, yet beautiful to behold, most famous for a Cathedrall Church, the very Majestie whereoff, stroke them into a maze, where they saw many monuments, and heard tell of greater, then either they ever saw, or easely would beleeve.

After they had gone long, seeing them-selves almost benighted, determined to make the nexte house their Inne, and espying in their way even at hande a very pleasaunt garden, drew neere: where they sawe a comely olde man as busie as a Bee among his Bees, whose countenaunce bewrayed his conditions: this auncient Father, Euphues greeted in this manner.

FAther, if the courtesie of Englande be aunswerable in the custome of Pilgrimes, then will the nature of the Countrey, excuse the boldnesse of straungers: our request is to have such enterteinment, beeing almost tyred with travaile, not as divers have for acquaintaunce, but as all men have for their money, which curtesie if you graunt, we will ever remaine in your debt, although every way discharge our due: and rather we are importunate, for that we are no lesse delighted with the pleasures of your garden, then the sight of your gravitie. Unto whom the olde man sayd.

GEntlemen, you are no lesse I perceive by your manners, and you can be no more beeing but men, I am neither so uncourteous to mislyke your request not so suspicious to mistrust your truthes, although it bee no lesse perillous to be secure, then peevish to be curious. I keepe no victualling, yet is my house an Inne, & I an Hoste to every honest man, so far as they with courtesie wil, & I may with abilytie. Your enterteinment shal be as smal for cheere, as your acquaintaunce is for time, yet in my house ye may happely finde some one thing cleanly, nothing courtly: for that wisedome provideth things necessarie, not superfluous, & age seeketh rather a Modicum for sustenaunce, then feastes for surfets. But until some thing may be made ready, might I be so bold as enquire your names, countreys, and the cause of your pilgrimage, where-in if I shalbe more inquisitive then I ought, let my rude birth excuse my bolde request, which I will not urge as one importunate (I might say) impudent.

Euphues, seeing this fatherly and friendlye Sire, (whom we will name Fidus) to have no lesse inwarde courtesie, then outward comelynesse, conjectured (as well he might) that the profer of his bountie, noted the noblenesse of his birth, beeing wel assured that as no Thersites could be transformed into Ulisses, so no Alexander could be couched in Damocles.

Thinking therefore now with more care and advisednesse to temper his talke, least either he might seeme foolysh or curious, he aunswered him, in these termes.

GOod sir, you have bound us unto you with a double chaine, the one in pardoning our presumption, the other in graunting our peticion. Which great & undeserved kindenesse, though we can-not requit with the lyke, yet if occasion shall serve, you shall finde us heereafter as willing to make amends, as we are now ready to give thankes.

Touching your demaunds, we are not so unwise to mislyke them, or so ungratefull to deny them, least in concealing our names, it might be thought for some trespasse, and covering our pretence, we might be suspected of treason. Know you then sir, that this Gentleman my fellow, is called Philautus, I Euphues: he an Italian, I a Grecian: both sworne friendes by just tryall, both Pilgrimes by free will. Concerninge the cause of our comming into this Islande, it was onely to glue our eyes to our eares, that we might justifie those things by sight, which we have oftentimes with incredible admiration understoode by hearing: to wit, the rare qualyties as well of the body as the minde, of your most dreade Sovereigne and Queene, the brute of the which hath filled every corner of the worlde, insomuch as there is nothing that moveth either more matter or more mervaile then hir excellent majestie, which fame when we saw, with-out comparison, and almost above credit, we determined to spend some parte of our time and treasure in the English court, where if we coulde finde the reporte but to be true in halfe, wee shoulde not onelye thinke our money and travayle well employed, but returned with interest more then infinite. This is the onely ende of our comming, which we are nothing fearefull to utter, trusting as well to the curtesie of your countrey, as the equitie of our cause.

Touching the court, if you can give us any instructions, we shal think the evening wel spent, which procuring our delight, can no way worke your disliking.

GEntlemen (aunswered this olde man) if bicause I entertaine you, you seeke to undermin me, you offer me great discurtesie: you must needes thinke me verye simple, or your selves very subtill, if upon so small acquaintaunce I should answer to such demands, as are neither for me to utter being a subject, nor for you to know being straungers. I keepe hives for Bees, not houses for busibodies (pardon me Gentlemen, you have moved my patience) & more welcome shal a wasp be to my honny, then a privy enimy to my house. If the rare reporte of my most gracious Ladye have brought you hether, mee thinketh you have done very ill to chuse such a house to confirme your mindes, as seemeth more like a prison then a pallace, where-by in my opinion, you meane to derogate from the worthines of the person by the vilnes of the place, which argueth your pretences to savor of malice more then honest meaning. They use to consult of Jove in the Capitol, of Caesar, in the senat, of our noble Queene, in hir owne court. Besides that, Alexander must be painted of none but Appelles, nor engraven of any but Lisippus, not our Elizabeth set forth of every one that would in duety, which are all, but of those that can in skyll, which are fewe, so furre hath nature overcome arte, and grace eloquence, that the paynter draweth a vale over that he cannot shaddow, and the Orator holdeth a paper in his hand, for that he cannot utter. But whether am I wandring, rapt farther by devotion then I can wade through with discretion. Cease then Gentle-men and know this, that an English-man learneth to speake of menne, and to holde his peace of the Gods. Enquire no farther then beseemeth you, least you heare that which can-not like you. But if you thinke the time long before your repast, I wil finde some talk which shall breede your dlight touching my Bees.

And here Euphues brake him off, and replyed: though not as bitterly as he would, yet as roundlye as he durst, in this manner.

We are not a little sory syr, not that we have opened our mindes, but that we are taken amisse, and where we meant so well, to be entreated so ill, having talked of no one thing, unlesse it be of good wil towards you, whome we reverenced for age, and of dutye towarde your Sovereigne, whom we mervailed at for vertue: which good meaning of ours misconstrued by you, hath bread such a distemperature in our heads, that we are fearfull to praise hir, whom al the world extolleth, and suspitious to trust you, whom above any in the worlde we loved. And wheras your greatest argument is, the basenes of your house, me thinketh that maketh most against you. Caesar never rejoyced more, then when hee heard that they talked of his valyant exploits in simple cotages, alledging this, that a bright Sunne shineth in every corner, which maketh not the beames worse, but the place better. When (as I remember) Agesilaus sonne was set at the lower end of the table, & one cast it in his teeth as a shame, he answered: this is the upper end where I sit, for it is not the place that maketh the person, but the person that maketh the place honorable. When it was told Alexander that he was much praysed of a Myller, I am glad, quoth he, that there is not so much as a Miller but loveth Alexander. Among other fables, I call to my remembrance one, not long, but apt, and as simple as it is, so fit it is, that I cannot omit it for that opportunitie of the time, though I might over-leap it for the basenesse of the matter. When all the Birds wer appointed to meete to talke of the Eagle, there was great contention, at whose nest they should assemble, every one willing to have it at his own home, one preferring the nobilitie of his birth, an other the statelynes of his building: some would have it for one qualitie, some for an other: at the last the Swalow, said they should come to his nest (being commonly of filth) which all the Birds disdaining, sayd: why thy house is nothing els but durt, and therfore aunswered the Swalow would I have talke there of the Eagle: for being the basest, the name of an Eagle wil make it the bravest. And so good father may I say of thy cotage, wich thou seemest to account of so homly, that moving but spech of thy Sovereigne, it will be more like a court then a cabin, and of a prison the name of Elizabeth wil make it a pallace. The Image of a Prince stampt in copper goeth as currant, and a Crow may cry Ave Caesar with-out any rebuke.

The name of a Prince is like the sweete deaw, which falleth as well uppon lowe shrubbes, as hygh trees, and resembleth a true glasse, where-in the poore maye see theyr faces with the rych, or a cleare streame where-in all maye drincke that are drye: not they onelye that are wealthy. Where you adde, that wee shoulde feare to move anye occasion touching talke of so noble a Prince, truly our reverence taketh away the feare of suspition. The Lambe feareth not the Lion, but the Wolfe: the Partridge dreadeth not the Eagle, but the Hawke: a true and faythfull heart standeth more in awe of his superior whom he loveth for feare, then of his Prince whom he feareth for love. A cleere conscience needeth no excuse, nor feareth any accusation. Lastly you conclude, that neither arte nor heart can so set forth your noble Queene as she deserveth. I graunt it, and rejoyce at it, and that is the cause of our comming to see hir, whom none can sufficiently commend: and yet doth it not follow, that bicause wee cannot give hir as much as she is worthy off, therefore wee should not owe hir any. But in this we will imitate the olde paynters in Greece, who drawing in theyr Tables the portraiture of Jupiter, were every houre mending it, but durst never finish it: And being demaunded why they beganne that, which they could not ende, they aunswered, in that we shew him to bee Jupiter, whome every one may beginne to paynt, but none can perfect. In the lyke manner meane we to drawe in parte the prayses of hir, whome we cannot throughly portraye, and in that we signifie hir to be Elyzabeth. Who enforceth every man to do as much as he can, when in respect of hir perfection, it is nothing. For as he that beholdeth the Sunne stedfastly, thinking ther-by to describe it more perfectly, hath his eies so daseled, that he can discerne nothing, so fareth it with those that seeke marveilously to praise those, that are without the compasse of their judgements, & al comparison, that the more they desire, the lesse they discern, & the neerer they think them selves in good wil, the farther they finde themselves of in wisdom, thinking to mesure that by the ynch, which they cannot reach with the ell. And yet father, it can be neither hurtful to you, nor hateful to your Prince, to here the commendation of a straunger, or to aunswere his honest request, who will wish in heart no lesse glorye to hir, then you doe: although they can wish no more. And therfore me thinketh you have offered a little discourtesie, not to aunswere us, and to suspect us, great injury: having neither might to attempt any thing which may do you harme, nor malice to revenge, wher we finde helpe.For mine owne part this I say, & for my friend present the lyke I dar sweare, how boldly I can-not tell, how truely I know: that there is not any one3, whether he be bound by benefit or duetie, or both: whether linked by zeale, or time, or bloud, or al: that more humbly reverenceth hir Majestie, or mervaileth at hir wisedome, or prayeth for hir long prosperous and glorious Reigne, then we then whom we acknowledge none more simple, and yet dare avowe, none more faithfull. Which we speake not to get service by flatterie, but to acquite our selves of suspition, by faith: which is al that either a Prince can require of his subject, or a vassal yeeld to his Sovereign, and that which we owe to your Queene, & all others should offer, that either for feare of punishment dare not offend, or for love of vertue, will not.


Heere olde Fidus interrupted young Euphues, being almost induced by his talke, to aunswere his request, yet as one neither too credulous, nor altogether mistrustful, he replyed as a friend, & so wisely as he glaunced from the marke Euphues shot at, & hit at last the white which Philautus set up, as shall appeare heereafter. And thus he began.

MY sonnes (mine age giveth me the priviledge of that terme, and your honesties can-not refuse it) you are too young to understand matters of state, and were you elder to knowe them it were not for your estates. And therfore me thinketh, the time were but lost, in pullyng Hercules shooe uppon an Infants foot, or in setting Atlas burthen on a childes shoulder, or to bruse your backes, with the burthen of a whole kingdome, which I speake not, that either I mistrust you (for your reply hath fully resolved that feare) or that I malice you (for my good will maye cleare me of that fault) or that I dread your might (for your smal power cannot bring me into such a folly) but that I have learned by experience, that to reason of Kings or Princes, hath ever bene much mislyked of the wise, though much desired of fooles, especially wher old men, which should be at their beads, be too busie with the court, & young men which shold follow their bookes, be to inquisitive in the affaires of princes. We shold not looke at that we cannot reach, nor long for that we shold not have: things above us, are not for us, & therfore are princes placed under the gods, yet they should not see what they do, & we under princes, that we might not enquire what they doe. But as the foolish Eagle that seeing the sun coveteth to build hir nest in the sun, so fond youth which viewing the glory & gorgeousnesse of the court, longeth to know the secrets in the court. But as the Eagle, burneth out hir eyes with that proud lust: so doth youth break his hart with that peevish conceit. And as Satirus not knowing what fire was, wold needs embrace it, & was burned, so these fonde Satiri not understanding what a Prince is, runne boldly to meddle in those matters which they know not, & so feele worthely the heat they wold not. And therfore good Euphues & Philautus content your selves with this, that to be curious in things you should not enquire off, if you know them, they appertein not unto you: if you knew them not, they cannot hinder you. And let Appelles answer to Alexander be an excuse for me. When Alexander would needes come to Appelles shop and paint, Appelles placed him at his backe, who going to his owne worke, did not so much as cast an eye back, to see Alexanders devises, which being wel marked, Alexander said thus unto him: Art not thou a cunning Painter, and wilt thou not over-looke my picture, & tel me wheerin I have done wel, & wherin ill? whom he answered wisely, yet merily: In faith O king it is not for Appelles to enquire what Alexander hath done, neither if he shew it me, to judge how it is done, & therefore did I set your Majestie at my back, that I might not glaunce towards a kings work, & that you looking over my head might see mine, for Appelles shadowes are to be seene of Alexander, but not Alexanders of Appelles. So ought we Euphues to frame our selves in all actions & devises, as though the King stood over us to behold us, and not to looke what the King doth behinde us. For whatsoever he painteth it is for his pleasure, and wee must think for our profit, for Appelles had his reward though he saw not the worke.

I have heard of a Magnifico in Millaine (and I thinke Philautus you being an Italian do remember it,) who hearing his sonne inquisitive of the Emperours lyfe and demeanour, reprehended him sharply, saying: that it beseemed not one of his house, to enquire how an Emperour lived, unlesse he himself were an Emperour: for that the behaviour & usage of so honourable personages are not to be called in question of every one that doubteth, but of such as are their equalls.

Alexander being commaunded of Philip his Father to wrastle in the games of Olympia, aunswered he woulde, if there were a King to strive with him, where-by I have noted (that others seeme to inforce) that as kings pastimes are no playes for every one: so their secretes, their counsells, their dealings, are not to be either scanned or enquired off any way, unlesse of those that are in the lyke place, or serve the lyke person. I can-not tell whether it bee a Caunterbury tale, or a Fable in Aesop, (but pretie it is, and true in my minde) That the Foxe and the Wolfe, gooing both a filching for foode, thought it best to see whether the Lyon were a sleepe or awake, least beeing too bolde, they should speede too bad. The Foxe entring into the Kings denne, (a King I call the Lyon) brought word to the Wolfe, that he was a sleepe, and went him-selfe to his owne kenell, the Wolfe desirous to searche in the Lyons denne, that hee might espye some fault, or steale some praye entered boldly, whom the Lyon caught in his pawes and asked what he would? the sillye Wolfe (an unapte tearme, for a Wolfe, yet fit, being in a Lyons handes) aunswered, that understanding by the Foxe that he was a sleepe, hee thought he might be at lybertie to survey his lodging: unto whome the princely Lyon with great disdaine though little despite (for that there can be no envy in a King) sayde thus: Doest thou thinke that Lyon, thy Prince and governour can sleepe though he winke, or darest thou enquire, whether he winke or wake? The Foxe had more craft then thou, and thou more courage (courage I wil not say, but boldnes: & boldnes is too good, I may say desperatenesse) but you shal both wel know, & to your griefs feele, that neither the wilines of the Fox, nor the wildnes of the Wolfe, ought either to see, or to aske, whether the Lyon either sleepe or wake, bee at home or abroad, dead or alyve. For this is sufficient for you to know, that there is a Lyon, not where he is, or what he doth. In lyke manner Euphues, is the government of a Monarchie (though homely bee the comparison, yet apte it is) that it is neither the wise Fox, nor the malitious Wolfe, should venture so farre, as to learne whether the Lyon sleepe or wake in his denne, whether the Prince fast or feaste in his court: but this shoulde bee their order, to understand there is a king, but what he doth is for the Goddes to examine, whose ordinaunce he is, not for me, whose over-seer he is. Then how vaine is it Euphues (too mylde a worde for so madde a minde) that the foote should neglect his office to correct the face, or that subjectes shoulde seeke more to knowe what their Princes doe, then what they are: where-in they shewe them-selves as badde as beasts, and much worse then my Bees, who in my conceite though I maye seeme partiall, observe more order then they, (and if I myght saye so of my good Bees,) more honestie: honestie my olde Graund-father called that, when menne lyved by law, not lyst: observing in all thinges the meane, which wee name vertue, and vertue we account nothing els but to deale justly and temperately.

And if I myght crave pardon, I would a little acquaint you with the common wealth of my Bees, which is neyther impertinent to the matter we have now in hand, nor tedious to make you weary.

Euphues delighted with the discourses of old Fidus, was content to heare any thing, so he myght heare him speake some thing, and consenting willingly, hee desired Fidus to go forward: who nowe removing him-selfe neerer to the Hyves, beganne as followeth.

GEntlemen, I have for the space of this twenty yeares dwelt in this place, taking no delight in any thing but only in keeping my Bees, & marking them, & this I finde, which had I not seene, I shold hardly have beleeved. That they use as great wit by induction, and arte by workmanship, as ever man hath, or can, using betweene themselves no lesse justice then wisdome, & yet not so much wisdome as majestie: insomuch as thou wouldest thinke, that they were a kinde of people, a common wealth for Plato, where they all labour, all gather honny, flye all together in a swarme, eate in a swarm, and sleepe in a swarm, so neate and finely, that they abhorre nothing so much as uncleannes, drinking pure and cleere water, delighting in sweete and sound Musick, which if they heare but once out of tune, they flye out of sight: and therefore are they called the Muses byrds, bicause they folow not the sound so much as the consent. They lyve under a lawe, using great reverence to their elder, as to the wiser. They chuse a King, whose pallace they frame both braver in show, and stronger in substaunce: whome if they finde to fall, they establish again in his thron, with no lesse duty then devotion, garding him continually, as it were for feare he should miscarry, and for love he should not: whom they tender with such fayth and favour, that whether soever he flyeth, they follow him, and if hee can-not flye, they carry him: whose lyfe they so love, that they will not for his safety stick to die, such care have they for his health, on whome they build all their hope. If their Prince dye, they know not how to live, they languish, weepe, sigh, neither intending their work, nor keeping their olde societie.

And that which is most mervailous, and almoste incredible: if ther be any that hath disobeyed his commaundements, eyther of purpose, or unwittingly, hee kylleth him-selfe with his owne sting, as executioner of his own stubbornesse. The King himm-selfe hath his sting, which hee useth rather for honour then punishment: And yet Euphues, al-beit they lyve under a Prince, they have their priveledge, and as great liberties as straight lawes.

They call a Parliament, wher-in they consult, for lawes, statutes, penalties, chusing officers, and creating their king, not by affection but reason, not by the greater part, but the better. And if such a one by chaunce be chosen (for among men som-times the worst speede best) as is bad, then is there such civill war and dissention, that untill he be pluckt downe, there can be no friendship, and over-throwne, there is no enmitie, not fighting for quarrelles, but quietnesse.

Every one hath his office, some trimming the honny, some working the wax, one framing hives, an other the combers, and that so artificially, that Dedalus could not with greater arte or excellencie, better dispose the orders, measures, proportions, distinctions, joynts & circles. Divers hew, others polish, all are carefull to doe their worke so strongly, as they may resist the craft of such drones, as seek to live by their labours, which maketh them to keepe watch and warde, as lyving in a campe to others, and as in a court to themselves. Such a care of chastitie, that they never ingender, such a desire of cleannesse, that there is not so much as meate in all their hives.

When they go forth to work, they marke the wind, the clouds, & whatsoever doth threaten either their ruine, or raign, & having gathered out of every flower honny they return loden in their mouthes, thighs, wings, and all the bodye, whome they that tarried at home receyve readily, as easing their backes of so great burthens.

The King him-selfe not idle, goeth up and downe, entreating, threatning, commaunding, using the counsell of a sequel, but not loosing the dignitie of a Prince, preferring those that labour to greater authoritie, and punishing those that loyter, with due severitie. All which thinges being much admirable, yet this is most, that they are so profitable, bringing unto man both honnye and wax, each so whosome that wee all desire it, both so necessary that we cannot misse them. Here Euphues is a common wealth, which oftentimes calling to my minde, I cannot chuse but commend above any that either I have heard or read of. Where the king is not for every one to talke of, where there is such homage, such love, such labour, that I have wished oftentimes, rather be a Bee, then not be as I should be.

In this little garden with these hives, in this house have I sent the better parte of my lyfe, yea and the best: I was never busie in matters of state, but referring al my cares unto the wisdom of grave Counsellors, and my confidence in the noble minde of my dread Sovereigne and Queene, never asking what she did, but alwayes praying she may do well, not enquiring whether she might do what she would, but thinking she would do nothing but what she might.

Thus contented with a meane estate, and never curious of the high estate, I found such quiet, that mee thinketh, he which knoweth least, lyveth longest: insomuch that I chuse rather to be an Hermitte in a cave, then a Counsellor in the court.

Euphues perceyving olde Fidus, to speake what hee thought, aunswered him in these shorte wordes.

He is very obstinate, whome neither reason nor experiynce can perswade: and truly seeing you have alledged both, I must needes allow both. And if my former request have bred any offence, let my latter repentance make amends. And yet this I knowe, that I enquyred nothing that might bring you into daunger, or me into trouble: for as young as I am, this have I learned, that one maye poynt at a Starre, but not pull at it, and see a Prince but not search him: And for mine own part, I never mean to put my hand betweene the barke and the tree, or in matters which are not for me to be over curious.

The common wealth of your Bees, did so delight me, that I was not a lyttle sory that either their estate have not ben longer, or your leasure more, for in my simple judgement, there was such an orderlye government, that men may not be ashamed to imitate them, nor you wearie to keepe them.

They having spent much time in these discourses, were called in to Supper, Philautus more willing to eate, then heare their tales, was not the last that went in: where being all set downe, they were served al in earthen dishes, al things so neat and cleanly, that they perceived a kinde of courtly Majestie in the minde of their host, though he wanted matter to shew it in his house. Philautus I know not whether of nature melancholy, or feeling love in his bosome, spake scarce ten words since his comming into the house of Fidus, which the olde man well noting, began merily thus to parle with him.

I Mervaile Gentleman that all this time, you have bene tongue tyed, either thinking not your selfe welcome, or disdayning so homely enterteinment: in the one you doe me wrong, for I thinke I have not shewed my selfe straunge: for the other you must pardon me, for that I have not to do as I would, but as I may: And though England be no graunge, but yeeldeth every thing, yet is it heere as in every place, al for money. And if you will but accept a willing minde in steede of a costly repast, I shall thinke my selfe beholding unto you: and if time serve, or my Bees prosper, I wil make you part amends, with a better breakfast.

Philautus thus replyed: I know good Father, my welcome greater then any wayes I can requite, and my cheere more bountifull then ever I shall deserve, and though I seeme silent for matters that trouble me, yet I would not have you thinke me so foolish, that I should either disdaine your company, or mislyke your cheere, of both the which I thinke so well, that if time might aunswere my true meaning, I would exceede in cost, though in courtesie I know not how to compare with you, for (without flatterie be it spoken) if the common courtesie of Englande be no worse then this towarde straungers, I must needes thinke them happy that travaile into these coasts, and the inhabitaunts the most courteous, of all countreyes.

Heere began Euphues to take the tale out of Philautus mouth, and to play with him in his melancholicke moode, beginning thus.

NO Father I durst sweare for my friend, that both he thinketh himselfe welcome, and his fare good, but you must pardon a young courtier, who in the absence of his Lady thinketh himselfe forlorne: And this vile Dog Love will so ranckle where he biteth, that I feare my friends sore, will breed to a Fistula: for you may perceive that he is not where he lives, but wher he loves, and more thoughts hath he in his head, then you Bees in your Hives: and better it were for him to be naked among your Waspes, though his bodye were al blistered, then to have his heart strong so with affection, where-by he is so blinded. But beleeve mee Fidus, he taketh as great delight to course a cogitation of love, as you doe to use your time with Honny. In this plight hath he bene ever since his comming out of Naples, and so hath it wrought with him (which I had thought impossible) that pure love did make him Seasicke, insomuch as in all my travaile with him, I seemed to every one to beare with me the picture of a proper man, but no living person, the more pitie, & yet no force. Philautus taking Euphues tale by the ende, & the olde man by the arme, betweene griefe and game, jest and earnest, aunswered him thus.

EUphues would dye if he should not talke of love once in a day, and therfore you must give him leave after every meale to cloase his stomacke with Love, as with Marmalade, and I have heard, not those that say nothing, but they that kicke oftenest against love, are ever in love: yet doth he use me as the meane to move the matter, and as the man to make his Mirrour, he himselfe knowing best the price of Corne, not by the Market folkes, but his owne foote-steppes. But if he use this speach either to make you merrye, or to put me out of conceipt, he doth well, you must thanke him for the one, and I wil thinke on him for the other. I have oftentimes sworne that I am as farre from love as he, yet will he not beleeve me, as incredulous as those, who thinke none balde, till they see his braynes.

As Euphues was making aunswere, Fidus prevented him in this manner.

THere is no harme done Philautus, for whether you love, or Euphues jest, this shall breed no jarre. It may be when I was as young as you, I was as idle as you (though in my opinion, there is none lesse idle then a lover.) For to tell the truth, I my self was once a Courtier, in the dayes of that most noble King of famous memorie Henry the eight, Father to our most gracious Lady Elizabeth.

Where, and with that he paused, as though the remembraunce of his olde lyfe, had stopped his newe speach, but Philautus eytching to hear what he would say, desired him to goe forward, unto whome Fidus fetching a great sigh sayd, I will. And there agayne made a full poynt. Philautus burning as it were, in desire of this discourse, urged him againe with great entreatie: then the olde man commaunded the boorde to be uncovered, grace being sayd, called for stooles, and sitting al by the fire, uttered the whole discourse of his love, which brought Philautus a bedde, and Euphues a sleepe.

And now Gentlemen, if you will give eare to the tale of Fidus, it may be some will be as watchfull as Philautus, though many as drousie as Euphues. And thus he began with a heavie countenaunce (as though his paines were present, not past) to frame his tale.

I Was borne in the wylde of Kent, of honest Parents, and worshipfull, whose tender cares, (if the fondnesse of parents may be so termed) provided all things even from my very cradell, until their graves, that might either bring me up in good letters, or make me heire to great lyvings. I (with-out arrogancie be it spoken) was not inferiour in wit to manye, which finding in my selfe, I flattered my selfe, but in the ende, deceived my selfe: For being of the age of .xx. yeares, there was no trade or kinde of lyfe that either fitted my humour or served my tourne, but the Court: thinking that place the onely meanes to clymbe high, and sit sure: Wherin I followed the vaine of young Souldiours, who judge nothing sweeter then warre til they feele the weight. I was there enterteined as well by the great friends my father made, as by mine own forwardnesse, where it being now but Honnie Moone, I endeavoured to courte it with a grace, (almost past grace) laying more on my backe then my friendes could wel beare, having many times a brave cloke and a thredbare purse.

Who so conversant with the Ladyes as I? who so pleasaunt? who more prodigall? In somuch as I thought the time lost, which was not spent either in their company with delight, or for their company in letters. Among all the troupe of gallant Gentle-men, I singled out one (in whome I mysliked nothing but his gravitie) that above all I meant to trust: who aswell for the good qualities he saw in me, as the little government he feared in mee, beganne one night to utter these fewe wordes.

Friend Fidus (if Fortune allow a tearm so familiar) I would I might live to see thee as wise, as I percieve thee wittie, then should thy life be so seasoned, as neyther too much witte might make thee proude, nor too great ryot poore. My acquaintaunce is not great with thy person, but such insight have I into thy conditions, that I feare nothing so much, as that, there thou catch thy fall, where thou thinkest to take thy rising. Ther belongeth more to a courtier then bravery, which the wise laugh at, or personage, which the chast mark not, or wit, which the most part see not. It is sober & discret behaviour, civil & gentle demeanor, that in court winneth both credit & commoditie: which counsel thy unripened yeares thinke to proceede rather of the malice of age, then the good meaning. To ryde well is laudable, & I like it, to runne at the tilt not amisse, and I desire it, to revell much to be praised, and I have used it: which thinges as I know them all to be courtly, so for my part I accompt them necessary, for where greatest assemblies are of noble Gentlemen, there should be the greatest exercise of true nobilitie. And I am not so precise, but that I esteeme it as expedient in feates of armes and activitie to employ the body, as in study to wast the minde: yet so should the one be tempered with the other, as it myght seeme as great a shame to be valiaunt and courtly with-out learning, as to bee studious and bookish with-out valure.

But there is an other thing Fidus, which I am to warn thee of, and if I might to wreast thee from: not that I envy thy estate, but that I would not have thee forget it. Thou usest too much (a little I thinke to bee too much) to dallye with woemen, which is the next way to doate on them: For as they that angle for the Tortois, having once caught him, are dryven into such a lythernesse, that they loose all their sprightes, being beenummed, so that they seeke to obtayne the good-will of Ladyes, having once a little holde of their love, they are driven into such a traunce, that they let go the holde of their libertie, bewitched like those that viewe the head of Medusa, or the Viper tyed to the bough of the Beech tree, which keepeth him in a dead sleepe, though it beginne with a sweete slumber. I my selfe have tasted new wine, and finde it to bee more pleasaunt then wholsome, and Grapes gathered before they bee rype, maye set the eyes on lust, but they make the teeth an edge, and love desired in the budde, not knowing what the blossome were, may delight the conceiptes of the head, but it will destroye the contemplature of the heart. What I speake now is of meere good will, and yet upon small presumption, but in things which come on the sodaine, one cannot be too warye to prevent, or too curious to mystrust: for thou art in a place, eyther to make thee hated for vice, or loved for vertue, and as thou reverencest the one before the other, so in uprightnesse of lyfe shewe it. 'Thou has good friendes, which by thy lewde delights, thou mayst make great enimies, and heavy foes, which by thy well doing thou mayst cause to be earnest abettors of thee, in matters that now they canvasse agaynst thee.

And so I leave thee, meaning herafter to beare the reign of thy brydell in myne hands: if I see thee head stronge: And so he departed.'
I gave him great thanks, and glad I was we wer parted: for his putting love into my minde, was like the throwing of Buglosse into wine, which encreaseth in him that drinketh it a desire of lust, though it mittigate the force of drunkennesse.

I now fetching a windlesse, that I myght better have a shoote, was prevented with ready game, which saved me some labour, but gained me no quiet. And I would gentlemen that you could feel the like impressions in your myndes at the rehersall of my mishappe, as I did passions at the entring into it. If ever you loved, you have found the like, if ever you shall love, you shall taste no lesse. But he so eger of an end, as one leaping over a stile before hee come to it, desired few parentheses or digressions or gloses, but the text, wher he him-self was coting in the margant. Then said Fidus, thus it fell out.

It was my chaunce (I knows not whether chaunce or destinie) that being invited to a banket where many Ladyes were and too many by one, as the end tryed, though then to many by al saving that one, as I thought, I cast mine eies so earnestly upon hir, that my hart vowd hir the mistris of my love, and so fully was I resolved to prosecut my determination, as I was earnest to begin it. Now Gentlemen, I commit my case to your considerations, being wiser then I was then, and somwhat as I gesse elder: I was but in court a novice, having no friends, but him before rehearsed, whome in such a matter I was lyklier to finde a brydell, then a spurre. I never before that tyme could imagin what love should meane, but used the tearm as a flout to others, which I found now as a fever in my selfe, neither knowing from whence the occasion should arise, nor where I might seeke the remedy. This distresse I thought youth would have worne out, or reason, or time, or absence, or if not every one of them, yet all. But as fire getting bould in the bottome of a tree, never leaveth till it come to the toppe, or as stronge poyson Antidotum being but chafed in the hand, pearceth at the last the hart, so love which I kept but low, thinking at my will to leave, entred at the last so farre that it held me conquered. And then disputing with my selfe, I played this on the bit.

Fidus, it standeth thee uppon eyther to winne thy love, or to weane thy affections, which choyce is so hard, that thou canst not tel whether the victory wil be the greater in subduing thy selfe, or conquering hir.

To love and to lyve well is wished of many but incident to fewe. To live and to love well is incident to fewe, but indifferent to all. To love with-out reason is an argument of lust, to lyve with-out love, a token of folly. The measure of love is to have no meane, the end to be everlasting.

Thesius had no neede of Ariadnes threed to finde the way into the Laborinth, but to come out, nor thou of any help how to fal into these brakes, but to fall from them. If thou be witched with eyes, weare the eie of a wesill in a ring, which is an enchauntment against such charmes, and reason with thy self whether ther be more pleasure to be accounted amorous, or wise. Thou art in the view of the whole court, wher the jelous wil suspecteth uppon every light occasion, where of the wise thou shalt be accounted fond, & of the foolish amorous: the Ladies themselves, how-soever they looke, wil thus imagine, that if thou take thought for love, thou art but a foole, if take it lyghtly, no true servaunt. Besides this thou art to be bounde, as it were an Apprentice serving seaven yeares for that, which if thou winne, is lost in seaven houres, if thou love thine equall, it is no conquest: if thy superiour, thou shalt be enjoyed: if thine inferiour, laughed at. If one that is beautifull, hir colour will chaunge before thou get thy desire: if one that is wise, she will overreache thee so farre, that thou shalt never touch hir: if vertuous, she will eschue such fonde affection, if one deformed, she is not worthy of any affection: if she be rich, she needeth thee not: if poore, thou needest not hir: if olde, why shouldest thou love hir, if young, why should she love thee.

Thus Gentlemen, I fed my selfe with mine owne devices, thinking by peecemeale to cut off that which I could not diminish: for the more I strived with reason to conquere mine appetite, the more against reason, I was subdued of mine affections.

At the last calling to my remembrance, an olde rule of love, which a courtier then tolde me, of whom when I demaunded what was the first thing to winne my Lady, he aunswered, Opportunitie, asking what was the second, he sayd Opportunitie: desirous to know what might be the thirde, he replyed Opportunitie. Which aunsweres I marking, as one that thought to take mine ayme of so cunning an Archer, conjectured that to the beginning, continuing and ending of love, nothing could be more convenient then Opportunitie, to the getting of the which I applyed my whole studie, & wore my wits to the hard stumpes, assuring my selfe, that as there is a time, when the Hare will lycke the Houndes eare, and the fierce Tigresse play with the gentle Lambe, so ther was a certein season, when women were to be won, in the which moment they have neither will to deny, nor wit to mistrust.

Such a time I have read a young Gentleman found to obtaine the love of the Duchesse of Millayne: such a time I have heard that a poore yeoman chose to get the fairest Lady in Mantua.

Unto the which time, I trusted so much, that I sold the skin before the Beast was taken, reconing with-out mine hoast, and setting downe that in my bookes as ready money, which afterwards I found to be a desperate debt.

IT chaunced that this my Lady (whome although I might name for the love I bore hir, yet I will not for the reverence I owe hir, but in this storye call hir Iffida) for to recreate hir minde, as also to solace hir body, went into the countrey, where she determined to make hir abode for the space of three moneths, having gotten leave of those that might best give it. And in this journey I founde good Fortune so favourable, that hir abiding was within two miles of my Fathers mantion house, my parents being of great familiaritie with the Gentleman, where my Iffida lay. Who now so fortunate as Fidus? who so frolicke? She being in the countrey, it was no being for me in the court? wher every pastime was a plague, to the minde that lyved in melancholy. For as the Turtle having lost hir mate, wandreth alone, joying in nothing, but in solitarinesse, so poore Fidus, in the absence of Iffida, walked in his chamber as one not desolate for lacke of company, but desperate. To make short of the circumstaunces, which holde you too long from that you would heare, & I faine utter, I came home to my father, wher at mine entraunce, supper being set on the table, I espyed Iffida, Iffida Gentlemen, whom I found before I sought, and lost before I wonne. Yet least the alteration of my face, might argue some suspition of my follyes, I, as courtly as I could, though god knowes but coursly, at that time behaved my selfe, as thou nothing payned me, when in truth nothing pleased me. In the middle of supper, Iffida as well for the acquaintance we had in court, as also the courtesie she used in generall to all, taking a glasse in hir hand filled with wine, dranke to me in this wise. Gentlemen, I am not learned, yet have I heard, that the Vine beareth three grapes, the first altereth, the second troubleth, the third dulleth. Of what Grape this Wine is made I cannot tell, and therefore I must crave pardon, if either this draught chaunge you, unlesse it be to the better, or grieve you, except it be for greater gaine, or dull you, unlesse it be your desire, which long preamble I use to no other purpose, then to warne you from wine heere-after, being so well counselled before. And with that she drinking, delivered me the glasse. I now taking heart at grasse, to see hir so gamesome, as merely as I could, pledged hir in this manner.

IT is pitie, Lady you want a pulpit, having preached so well over the pot, wherin you both shewe the learning, which you professe you have not, and a kinde of love, which would you had: the one appeareth by your long sermon, the other by the desire you have to keepe me sober, but I wil refer mine answere till after supper, and in the meane season, be so temperate, as you shall not thinke my wit to smell of the wine, although in my opinion, such grapes set rather an edge upon wit, then abate the point. If I may speak in your cast, quoth Iffida (the glass being at my nose) I thinke, wine is such a whetstone for wit, that if it be often set in that manner, it will quickly grinde all the steele out, & scarce leave a back wher is found an edge.

With many like speaches we continued our supper, which I will not repeat, least you should thinke us Epicures, to sit so long at our meate: but all being ended, we arose, where as the manner is, thankes and cursie made to each other, we went to the fire, wher I boldened now, with out blushing tooke hir by the hand, & thus began to kindle the flame which I shoulde rather have quenched, seeking to blow a cole, when I should have blowne out the candle.

GEntlewoman either thou thoughts my wits verye short, that a sippe of wine could alter me, or els yours very sharpe, to cut me off so roundly, when as I (without offence be it spoken) have heard, that as deepe drinketh the Goose as the Gander.

Gentleman (quoth she) in arguing of wittes, you mistake mine, and call your owne into question. For what I sayd proceeded rather of a desire to have you in health, then of malyce to wish you harme. For you well know, that wine to a young blood, is in the spring time, Flaxe to fire, & at all times either unwholsome, or superfluous, and so daungerous, that more perish by a surfet then the sword.

I have heard wise Clearkes say, that Galen being asked what dyet he used that he lyved so long, aunswered: I have dronke no wine, I have touched no woman, I have kept my selfe warme.

Now sir, if you will lycence me to proceede, this I thought, that if one of your yeares should take a dram of Magis, wherby consequently you should fal to an ounce of love, & then upon so great heat take a little colde, it were inough to cast you away, or turne you out of the way. And although I be no Phisition, yet have I bene used to attend sicke persons, where I founde nothing to hurt them so much as Wine, which alwayes drew with it, as the Adamant doth the yron, a desire of women: how hurtfull both have bene, though you be too young to have tryed it, yet you are olde enough to beleeve it. Wine should be taken as the Dogs of Egypt drinke water, by snatches, and so quench their thirst and not hynder theyr running, or as the Daughters of Lysander used it, who with a droppe of wine tooke a spoonfull of water, or as the Virgins in Rome, whoe dryncke but theyr eye full, contenting them-selves as much with the sight, as the taste.

Thus to excuse my selfe of unkindenesse, you have made me almost impudent, and I you (I feare more) impatient, in seeming to prescribe a diette wher there is no daunger, giving a preparative when the body is purged: But seeing all this talke came of drinkeing, let it ende with drinking.

I seeing my selfe thus rydden, thought eyther shee should sit fast, or els I would cast hir. And thus I replyed.

Lady, you thinke to wade deepe where the Foorde is but shallow, and to enter into the secretes of my minde, when it lyeth open already, wher-in you use no lesse art to bring me in doubt of your good wil, then craft to put me out of doubt, having bayted your hooke both with poyson and pleasure, in that, using the meanes of phisicke (wher-of you so talke) mynglling sweete sirropes with bytter dragges. You stand in feare that wine should inflame my lyver and convert me to a lover: truely I am framed of that mettall, that I canne mortifye anye affections, whether it bee in dryncke or desire, so that I have no neede of your playsters, though I must needes give thankes for your paynes.

And now Philautus, for I see Euphues begynne to nodde, thou shalt understand, that in the myddest of my replye, my Father with the reste of the companye, interrupted mee, sayinge they woulde all fall to some pastyme, whiche bycause it groweth late Philautus, wee wyll deferre tyll the morning, for age must keepe a straight dyot or els a sickly life.

Philautus tyckled in everye vaine with delyght, was loath to leave so, although not wylling the good olde manne should breake his accustomed houre, unto whome sleepe was he chiefest sustenaunce. And so waking Euphues, who hadde taken a nappe, they all went to their lodging, where I thinke Philautus was musing uppon the event of Fidus his love: But there I will leave them in their beddes, till the next morning.

GEntle-menne and Gentle-woemenne, in the discourse of this love, it maye seeme I have taken a newe course: but such was the tyme then, that it was straunge to love, as it is nowe common, and then lesse used in the Courte, then it is now in the countrey: But having respecte to the tyme past, I trust you will not condempne my present tyme, who am enforced to singe after their plaine-songe, that was then used, and will followe heare-after the Crotchetts that are in these dayes cunninglye handled.

For the mindes of Lovers alter with the madde moodes of the Musitions: and so much are they within fewe yeares chaunged, that we accompt their olde wooing and singing to have so little cunning, that we esteeme it barbarous, and were they living to heare our newe quoyings, they woulde judge it to have so much curiositie, that they would tearme it foolish.

In the time of Romulus all heades were rounded of his fashion, in the time of Caesar curled of his manner. When Cyrus lyved, everye one praysed the hooked nose, and when hee dyed, they allowed the straight nose.

And so fareth with love, in tymes past they used to wooe in playne tearmes, now in piked sentences, and hee speedeth best, that speaketh wisest: every one following the newest waye, which is not ever the neerest way: some going over the stile when the gate is open, and other keeping the right beaten path, when hee maye crosse over better by the fieldes. Every one followeth his owne fancie, which maketh divers leape shorte for want of good rysinge, and many shoote over for lacke of true ayme.

And to that passe it is come, that they make an arte of that, which was soon to be thought naturall: And thus it standeth, that it is not yet determyned whether in love Ulysses more prevailed with his wit, or Paris with his personage, or Achilles with his prowesse.

For everye of them have Venus by the hand, and they are all assured and certaine to winne hir heart.

But I hadde almost forgotten the olde manne, who useth not to sleepe compasse, whom I see with Euphues and Philautus now alreadye in the garden, readye to proceede with his tale: which if it seeme tedious, wee will breake of againe when they go to dynner.

Fidus calling these Gentle-men uppe, brought them into his garden, where under a sweete Arbour of Eglentine, the byrdes recording theyr sweete notes, hee also strayned his olde pype, and thus beganne.

GEntle-men, yester-nyght I left of abruptly, and therefore I must nowe begynne in the like manner.

My Father placed us all in good order, requesting eyther by questions to whette our wittes, or by stories to trye our memoryes, and Iffyda that might best there bee bolde, beeing the best in the companye, and at all assayes too good for me, began againe to preach in this manner.

Thou art a courtier, Fidus, and therfore best able to resolve any question: for I knowe thy witte good to understand, and ready to aunswer: to thee therfore I addresse my talke.

THere was som-time in Sienna a Magnifico, whom God blessed with three Daughters, but by three wives and of three sundreye qualities: the eldest was verye fayre, but a very foole: the second mervailous wittie, but yet mervailous wanton: the third as vertuous as any living, but more deformed then any that evere lyved.

The noble Gentle-man their father disputed for the bestowing of them with him-selfe thus.

I thank the Gods, that have given me three Daugnters, who in theyr bosomes carry theyr dowries, in-somuch as I shall not neede to disburse one myte for all theyr marryages. Maydens be they never so foolyshe, yet beeynge fayre, they are commonly fortunate: for that men in these dayes, have more respect to the out ward show then the inward substance, where-in they imitate good Lapidaryes, who chuse the stones that delyght the eye, measuring the value not by the hidden vertue, but by the outwarde glistering: or wise Painters, who laye their best coulours, upon their worst counterfeite.

And in this me thinketh Nature hath dealt indifferently, that a foole whom every one abhorreth, shoulde have beautie, which every one desireth: that the excellencie of the one might excuse the vanitie of the other: for as we in nothing more differ from the Gods, then when we are fooles, so in nothing doe we come neere them so much, as when we are amiable. 'This caused Helen to be snatched up for a Starre, and Ariadne to be placed in the Heavens, not that they were wise, but faire, fitter to adde a Majestie to the Skie, then beare a Majestie in Earth. Juno for all hir jealousie, beholding Io, wished to be no Goddesse, so she might be so gallant. Love commeth in at the eye, not at the eare, by seeing Natures workes, not by hearing womens words. And such effects and pleasure doth sight bring unto us, that divers have lyved by looking on faire and beautifull pictures, desiring no meate, nor harkning to any Musick. What made men to imagine, that the Firmament was God but the beautie? which is sayd to bewitch the wise, and enchaunt them that made it. Pigmalion for beautie, loved an Image of Ivory, Appelles the counterfeit of Campaspe, and none we have heard off so sencelesse, that the name of beautie, cannot either breake or bende. It is this onely that Princes desire in their Houses, Gardeins, Orchards, and Beddes, following Alexander, who more esteemed the face of Venus, not yet finished, then the Table of the nyne Muses perfected. And I am of that minde that there can be nothing given unto mortall men by the immortall Gods, eyther more noble or more necessary then beautie. For as when the counterfeit of Ganimedes, was showen at a market, every one would faine buye it, bicause ZeuXis had there-in shewed his greatest cunning: so when a beautifull woman appeareth in a multitude, every man is drawne to sue to hir, for that the Gods (the onely Painters of beautie) have in hir expressed, the art of their Deitie. But I wil heere rest my selfe, knowing that if I should runne so farre as Beautie would carry me, I shoulde sooner want breath to tell hir praises, then matter to prove them, thus I am perswaded, that my faire daughter shal be wel maryed, for there is none, that will or can demaund a greater joynter then Beautie.

My second childe is wittie, but yet wanton, which in my minde, rather addeth a delyght to the man, then a disgrace to the mynde, and so lynked are those two qualyties together, that to be wanton without wit, is Apishnes: & to be thought wittie without wantonnes, precisenesse. When Lais being very pleasaunt, had told a merry jest: It is pitie sayde Aristippus, that Lais having so good a wit, should be a wanton. Yea quoth Lais, but it were more pitie, that Lais shoulde be a wanton and have no good wit. Osyris King of the Aegyptians, being much delyghted with pleasaunt conceipts, would often affirme, that he had rather have a virgin, that could give a quicke aunswere that might cut him, then a milde speach that might claw him. When it was objected to a gentlewoman, that she was neither faire not fortunate, & yet quoth she, wise & wel favoured, thinking it the chiefest gift that Nature could bestow, to have a Nut-browne hue, and an excellent head. It is wit that allureth, when every word shal have his weight, when nothing shal proceed, but it shal either savour of a sharpe conceipt, or a secret conclusion. And this is the greatest thing, to conceive readely and aunswere aptly, to understand whatsoever is spoken, & to reply as though they understoode nothing. A Gentleman that once loved a Lady most entirely, walking with hir in a parke, with a deepe sigh began to say, O that women could be constant, she replyed, O that they could not, Pulling hir hat over hir head, why quoth the gentleman doth the Sunne offend your eyes, yea, aunswered she the sonne of your mother, which quicke & ready replyes, being well marked of him, he was enforced to sue for that which he was determined to shake off. A noble man in Sienna, disposed to jest with a gentlewoman of meane birth, yet excellent qualities, between game & earnest gan thus to salute hir. I know not how I shold commend your beautie, bicause it is somwat to brown, nor our stature being sowhat to low, & of your wit I can not judge, no quoth she, I beleve you, for none can judge of wit, but they that have it, why then quoth he, doest thou thinke me a foole, thought is free my Lord quoth she, I wil not take you at your word. He perceiving al outward faults to be recompenced with inward favour, chose this virgin for his wife, And in my simple opinion, he did a thing both worthy his stocke and hir vertue. It is wit that flourisheth, when beautie fadeth: that waxeth young when age approcheth, and resembleth the Ivie leafe, who although it be dead, continueth greene. And bicause of all creatures, the womans wit is most excellent, therefore have the Poets fained the Muses to be women, the Nimphes, the Goddesses: ensamples of whose rare wisdomes, and sharpe capacities would nothing but make me commit Idolatry with my daughter.

I never heard but of these things which argued a fine wit, Invention. Conceiving, Aunswering. Which have all bene found so common in women, that were it not I should flatter them, I should think that singular.

Then this sufficeth me, that my seconde daughter shall not lead Apes in Hell, though she have not a penny for the Priest, bicause she is wittie, which bindeth weake things, and looseth strong things, and worketh all things, in those that have either wit themselves, or love wit in others.

My youngest though no pearle to hang at ones eare, yet so precious she is to a well disposed minde, that grace seemeth almost to disdaine Nature. She is deformed in body, slowe of speache, crabbed in countenaunce, and almost in all parts crooked: but in behaviour so honest, in prayer so devout, so precise in al hir dealings, that I never heard hir speake anye thing that either concerned not good instruction, or godlye mirth.

Who never delyghteth in costly apparell, but ever desireth homely attire, accompting no bravery greater then vertue: who beholding hir uglye shape in a glasse, smilyng sayd: This face were faire, if it were tourned, noting that the inward motions would make the outward favour but counterfeit. For as the precious stone Sandastra, hath nothing in outward appearance but that which seemeth blacke, but being broken poureth forth beames lyke the Sunne: so vertue sheweth but bare to the outward eye, but being pearced with inward desire, shineth lyke Christall. And this dare I avouch that as the Troglodite which digged in the filthy ground for rootes, and found the inestimable stone Topason, which inriched them ever after: so he that seeketh after my youngest daughter, which is deformed, shall finde the great treasure of pietie, to comfort him during his lyfe. Beautifull women are but lyke the Ermine, whose skinne is desired, whose carcasse is dispised, the vertuous contrariwise, are then most lyked, when theyr skinne is leaste loved.

Then ought I to take least care for hir, whom everye one that is honest will care for: so that I will quiet my self with this perswasion, that every one shal have a wooer shortly. Beautie canot live with-out a husband, wit will not, vertue shall not.

NOwe Gentleman, I have propounded my reasons, for every one I must now aske you the question. If it were your chaunce to travaile to Sienna, and to see as much there as I have tolde you here, whether would you chuse for your wife the faire foole, the witty wanton, or the crooked Saint.

When shee had finished, I stoode in a maze, seeing three hookes layd in one bayte, uncertaine to aunswere what myght please hir, yet compelled to saye some-what, least I should discredit my selfe: But seeing all were whist to heare my judgement, I replyed thus.

Ladye Iffyda, and Gentle-woemenne all, I meane not to travayle to Sienna to wooe Beautie, least in comming home the ayre chaunge it, and then my labour bee lost: neyther to seeke so farre for witte, least shee accompt me a foole, when I might speede as well neerer hande: nor to sue to Vertue, least in Italy I be infected with vice: and so looking to gette Jupiter by the hand, I catch Pluto by the heele.

But if you will imagaine that great Magnifico to have sent his three Daughters into England, I would thus debae with them before I would bargin with them.

I love Beautie wel, but I could not finde in my hart to marry a foole: for if she be impudent I shal not rule hir: and if she be obstinate, she will rule me, and my selfe none of the wisest, me thinketh it wer no good match, for two fooles in one bed are too many.

Witte of all thinges setteth my fancies on edge, but I should hardly chuse a wanton: for be she never so wise, if alwayes she want one when she hath me, I had as leife she should want me too, for of all my apparell I woulde have my cappe fit close.

Vertue I cannot mislike, which hether-too I have honoured, but such a crooked Apostle I never brooked: for vertue may well fatte my minde, but it will never feede mine eie, & in mariage, as market folkes tel me, the husband should have two eies, & the wife but one: but in such a match it is as good to have no eye, as no appetite.

But to aunswere of three inconveniences, which I would chuse (although each threaten a mischiefe) I must needes take the wise wanton: who if by hir wantonnesse she will never want wher she likes, yet by hir wit she will ever conceale whom she loves, & to weare a horne and not knowe it, will do me no more harme then to eate a flye, and not see it.

Iffyda I know not whether stong with mine answer, or not content with my opinion, replied in this maner.

Then Fidus when you match, God send you such a one, as you like best: but be sure alwaies, that your head be not higher then your hat. And thus faining an excuse departed to hir lodging, which caused al the company to breake off their determined pastimes, leaving me perplexed with a hundred contrary imaginations.

For this Philautus thought I, that eyther I did not hit the question which she would, or that I hit it too full against hir will: for to saye the trueth, wittie she was and some-what merrie, but God knoweth so farre from wantonnesse, as my selfe was from wisdome, and I as farre from thinking ill of hir, as I found hir from taking me well.

Thus all night tossing in my bedde, I determined the next daye, if anye opportunitie were offered, to offer also my importunate service. And found the time fitte, though hir minde so froward, that to thinke of it my heart throbbeth, and to utter it, wil bleede freshly.

The next daye I comming to the gallery where she was solitaryly walking, with hir frowning cloth, as sick lately of the solens, understanding my father to bee gone on hunting, and al other the Gentlewomen either walked abrod to take the aire, or not yet redy to come out of their chambers, I adventured in one ship to put all my wealth, and at this time to open my long conceled love, determining either to be a Knight as we saye, or a knitter of cappes. And in this manner I uttered my first speach.

Lady, to make a long preamble to a short sute, wold seeme superfluous, and to beginne abruptly in a matter of great waight, might be thought absurde: so as I am brought into a doubt whether I should offend you with too many wordes, or hinder my selfe, with too fewe. She not staying for a longer treatise brake me of thus roundly.

Gentle-man a short sute is soone made, but great matters not easily graunted, if your request be reasonable a word wil serve, if not, a thousand wil not suffice. Therfore if ther be any thing that I may do you pleasure in, see it be honest, and use not tedious discourses or colours of retorick, which though they be thought courtly, yet are they not esteemed necessary: for the purest Emeraud shineth britest when it hath no oyle, and trueth delighteth best, when it is apparayled worst.

Then I thus replyed.

FAyre Lady as I know you wise, so have I found you curteous, which two qualities meeting in one of so rare beautie, must forshow some great mervaile, and worked such effectes in those, that eyther have heard of your prayse, or seene your person, yet they are induced to offer them-selves unto your service, among the number of which your vassalles, I though least worthy, yet most willing, am nowe come to proffer both my life to do you good, and my lyvinges to be at your commaund, which franck offer proceeding of a faythfull mynde, can neyther be refused of you, nor misliked. And bicause I would cut of speaches which might seeme to savor either of flattery, or deceipte, I conclude thus, that as you are the first, unto whome I have vowed my love, so you shall be the last, requiring nothing but a friendly acceptaunce of my service, and good-will for the rewarde of it.

Iffyda whose right eare beganne to glow, and both whose cheekes waxed read, eyther with choler, or bashfulnesse, tooke me up thus for stumbling.

GEntle-man you make me blush, as much for anger as shame, that seeking to prayse me, & proffer your selfe, you both bring my good name into question, and your ill meaning into disdaine: so that thinking to present me with your hart, you have thrust into my hands the Serpent Amphisbena, which having at ech ende a sting, hurteth both wayes. You tearme me fayre, and ther-in you flatter, wise and ther-in you meane wittie, curteous which in other playne words, if you durst have uttered it, you would have named wanton.

Have you thought me Fidus, so light, that none but I could fit your business? or am I the wittie wanton which you harped upon yester-night, that would alwayes give you the stynge in the head? you are much deceyved in mee Fidus, and I as much in you: for you shall never finde me for your appetite, and I had thought never to have tasted you so unpleasant to mine. If I be amiable, I will doe those things that are fit for so good a face: if deformed, those things which shalt make me faire. And howsoever I lyve, I pardon your presumption, knowing it to be no lesse common in Court then foolish, to tell a faire tale, to a foule Lady, wheren they sharpen I confesse their wittes, but shewe as I thinke small wisedome, and you among the rest, bicause you would be accompted courtly, have assayed to feele the veyne you cannot see, wherein you follow not the best Phisitions, yet the most, who feeling the pulses, doe alwayes say, it betokeneth an Ague, and you seeing my pulses beat pleasauntly, judge me apte to fall into a fooles Fever: which leaste it happen to shake mee heere-after, I am minded to shake you off now, using but one request, wher I shold seeke oft to revenge, that is, that you never attempt by word or writing to sollicite your sute, which is no more pleasaunt to me, then the wringing of a streight shoe.

When she had uttered these bitter words, she was going into hir chamber: but I that now had no staye of my selfe, began to staye hir, and thus agayne to replye.

I Perceive Iffida that where the streame runneth smoothest, the water is deepest, and where the least smoake is, there to be the greatest fire: and wher the mildest countenaunce is, there to be the melancholiest conceits. I sweare to thee by the Gods, and there she interrupted me againe, in this manner.

Fidus the more you sweare, the lesse I beleeve you, for that it is a practise in Love, to have as little care of their owne oathes, as they have of others honors, imitating Jupiter, who never kept oath he swore to Juno, thinking it lawfull in love to have as small regard of Religion, as he had of chastitie. And bicause I wil not feede you with delayes, nor that you should comfort your selfe with tryall, take this for a flatte aunswere, that as yet I meane not to love any, and if I doe, it is not you, & so I leave you. But once againe I stayed hir steppes being now throughly heated as well with love as with cholar, and thus I thundered.

IF I had used the polycie that Hunters doe, in catching of Hiena, it might be also, I had now won you: but coming of the right side, I am entangled my selfe, & had it ben on the left side, I shold have inveigled thee. Is this the guerdon for good wil, is this the cortesie of Ladies, the lyfe of Courtiers, the foode of lovers? Ah Iffida, little dost thou know the force of affection, & therfore thou rewardes it lightly, neither shewing curtesie lyke a Lover, nor giving thankes lyke a Ladye. If I should compare my bloud with thy birth, I am as noble: if my wealth with thine, as rich: if confer qualities, not much inferiour: but in good wil as farre above thee, as thou art beyond me in pride.

Doest thou disdaine me because thou art beautiful? why coulours fade, when courtesie flourisheth. Doest thou reject me for that thou art wise? why wit having tolde all his cardes, lacketh many an ace of wisedome, But this is incident to women to love those that least care for them, and to hate those that most desire them, making a stake of that, which they should use for a stomacher.

And seeing it is so, better lost they are with a lyttle grudge, then found with much griefe, better solde for sorrow, then bought for repentaunce, and better to make no accompt of love, then an occupation: Wher all ones service be it never so great is never thought inough, when were it never so lyttle, it is too much. When I had thus raged, she thus replyed.

FIdus you goe the wrong way to the Woode, in making a gappe, when the gate is open, or in seeking to enter by force, when your next way lyeth by favor. Where-in you follow the humour of Ajax, who loosing Achilles shielde by reason, thought to winne it againe by rage: but it fell out with him as it doth commonly, with all those that are cholaricke, that he hurt no man but himself, neither have you moved any to offence but your selfe. And in my minde, though simple be the comparison, yet seemely it is, that your anger is lyke the wrangling of children, who when they cannot get what they would have by playe, they fall to crying, & not unlyke the use of foule gamesters, who having lost the maine by true judgement, thinke to face it out with a false oath, and you missing of my love, which you required in sport, determine to hit it by spite. If you have a commission to take up Ladyes, lette me see it: if a priviledge, let me know it: if a custome, I meane to breake it.

You talke of your birth, when I knowe there is no difference of blouds in a basen, and as lyttle doe I esteeme those that boast of their auncestours, and have themselves no vertue, as I doe of those that crake of their love, and have no modestie. I knowe Nature hath provided, and I thinke our lawes allow it, that one maye love when they see their time, not that they must love when others appoint it.

Where-as you bring in a rabble of reasons, as it were to bynde mee agaynst my will, I aunswere that in all respectes I thinke you so farre to excell mee, that I cannot finde in my heart to matche with you.

For one of so great good will as you are, to encounter with one of such pride as I am, wer neither commendable nor convenient, no more then a patch of Fustian in a Damaske coat.

As for my beautie & wit, I had rather make them better then they are, being now but meane, by vertue, then worse then they are, which woulde then be nothing, by Love.

Now wher-as you bring in (I know not by what proofe, for I thinke you were never so much of womens counsells) that there women best lyke, where they be least beloved, then ought [you] the more to pitie us, not to oppresse us, seeing we have neither free will to chuse, nor fortune to enjoy. Then Fidus since your eyes are so sharpe, that you cannot onely looke through a Milstone, but cleane through the minde, and so cunning that you can levell at the dispositions of women whom you never knew, me thinketh you shold use the meane, if you desire to have the ende, which is to hate those whom you would faine have to love you, for this have you set for a rule (yet out of square) that women then love most, when they be loathed most. And to the ende I might stoope to your lure, I pray begin to hate me, that I may love you.

Touching your loosing and finding, your buying & sellyng, it much skilleth not, for I had rather you shoulde loose me so you might never finde me againe, then finde me that I should thinke my selfe lost: and rather had I be solde of you for a penny, then bought for you with a pound. If you meane either to make an Art or an Occupation of Love, I doubt not but you shal finde worke in the Court sufficient: but you shal not know the length of my foote, untill by your running you get commendation. A Phrase now there is which belongeth to your Shoppe hoorde, that is, to make love, and when I shall heare of what fashion it is made, if I like the pattern, you shall cut me a partlet: so as you cut it not with a paire of left handed sheeres. And I doubte not though you have married your first love in the making, yet by the time you have made three or foure loves, you will prove an expert work-manne: for as yet you are like the Taylours boy, who thinketh to take measure before he can handle the sheeres.

And thus I protest unto you, bicause you are but a younge begynner, that I will helpe you to as much custome as I canne, so as you will promyse mee to sowe no false stitches, and when myne old love is worne thread-bare, you shall take measure of a newe.

In the meane season do not discourage your self. Appelles was no good Paynter the first day: For in every occupation one must first endeavour to beginne. He that will sell lawne must learne to folde it, and he that will make love, must learne first to courte it.

As she was in this vaine very pleasaunt, so I think she would have bene verye long, had not the Gentlewoemen called hir to walk, being so faire a day: then taking hir leave very curteously, she left me alone, yet turning againe she saide: will you not manne us Fidus, beeing so proper a man? Yes quoth I, and without asking to, had you beene a proper woman. Then smyling shee saide: you should finde me a proper woman, had you bene a proper work-man. And so she departed.

Nowe Philautus and Euphues, what a traunce was I left in, who bewailing my love, was answered with hate: or if not with hate, with such a kind of heate, as almost burnt the very bowels with-in me. What greter discourtesie could ther possibly rest in the minde of a Gentle-woman, then with so many nips, such bitter girdes, such disdainfull glickes to answere him, that honoured hir? What crueltie more unfit for so comely a Lady, then to spurre him that galloped, or to let him bloud in the hart, whose veine she shold have stanched in the liver. But it fared with me as with the herb Basill, the which that the more it is crousshed, the sooner it springeth, or the rue, which the oftner it is cutte, the better it groweth, or the poppy, which the more it is troden with the feete, the more is flourisheth. For in these extremities, beaten as it were to the ground with disdain, my love recheth to the top of the house with hope, not unlike unto a Tree, which though it be often felled to the hard roote, yet it buddeth againe & getteth a top.

But to make an ende both of my tale and my sorrowes, I will proceede, onely craving a little pacience, if I fall into mine old passions: With-that Philautus came in with his spoake, saying: in fayth Fidus, mee thinketh I could never be weary in hearing this discourse, and I feare me the ende will be to soone, although I feele in my self the impression of thy sorows. Yea quoth Euphues, you shall finde my friende Philautus so kinde harted, that before you have donne, he will be farther in love with hir, then you were: for as your Lady saide: Philautus will be bound to make love as warden of that occupation. Then, Fidus, well God graunt Philautus better successe than I hadde, which was too badde. For my Father being returned from hunting, and the Gentlewomen from walking, the table was covered, and we all set downe to dinner, none more pleasaunt then Iffyda, which would not conclude hir mirth, and I not melancholie, bicause I would cover my sadnesse, least either she might thinke me to doat, or my Father suspect me to desire hir. And thus we both in table talke beganne to rest. She requesting me to be hir carver, and I not attending well to that she craved, gave hir salt, which when she received, shee gan thus to reply.

IN sooth Gentle-manne I seldome eate salte for feare of anger, and if you give it mee in token that I want witte, then will you make me cholericke before I eate it: for woemen be they never so foolish, would ever be thought wise.

I stayd not long for mine aunswere, but as well quickened by hir former talke, and desirous to crye quittaunce for hir present tongue, sayd thus.

If to eate store of salt cause one to frette, and to have no salte signifie lacke of wit, then do you cause me to mervaile, that eating no salte you are so captious, and loving no salt you are so wise, when in deede so much wit is sufficient for a woman, as when she is in the raine can warne hir to come out of it.

You mistake your ayme quoth Iffyda, for such a showre may fall, as did once into Danaes lap, and then that woman were a foole that would come out of it: but it may be your mouth is out of taste, therfore you were best season it with salt.

In deede quoth I, your aunsweres are so fresh, that with-out salt I can hardly swallow them. Many nips were returned that time between us, and some so bitter, that I thought them to proceede rather of mallice, to worke dispite, then of mirth to shewe disporte.

My Father very desirous to heare questions asked, willed me after dinner, to use some demaund, which after grace I did in this sorte.

LAdy Iffyda, it is not unlikly but that you can aunswer a question as wisely, as the last nyght you asked one wilylie, and I trust you wil be as ready to resolve any doubt by entreatie, as I was by commaundement.

There was a Lady in Spaine, who after the decease of hir Father hadde three suitors, (and yet never a good Archer) the one excelled in all giftes of the bodye, in-somuch that there could be nothing added to his perfection, and so armed in all poyntes, as his very lookes were able to pearce the heart of any Ladie, especially of such a one, as seemed hir selfe to have no lesse beautie, than he had personage.

For that, as betweene the similitude of manners there is a friendship in everie respecte absolute: so in the composition of the bodye there is a certaine love engendred by one looke, where both the bodyes resemble each other as woven both in one lombe. The other hadde nothing to commend him but a quicke witte, which hee hadde alwayes so at his will, that nothing could be spoken, but he would wrest it to his owne purpose, which wrought such delight in this Ladye, who was no lesse wittie then hee, that you woulde have thought a mariage to be solempnized before the match could be talked of. For there is nothing in love more requisite, or more delectable, then pleasaunt and wise conference, neyther canne there aryse any storme in love which by witte is not turned to a calme.

The thirde was a Gentle-man of great possessions, large revenues, full of money, but neither the wisest that ever enjoyed so much, nor the properst that ever desired so much, he had no plea in his sute, but gyllt, which rubbed well in a hoat hand is such a grease as will supple a very hard hart. And who is so ignorant that knoweth not, gold be a key for every locke, chieflye with his Ladye, who hir selfe was well stored, and as yet infected with a desyre of more, that shee could not but lende him a good countenaunce in this match.

Now Lady Iffida, you are to determine this Spanish bargaine, or if you please, we wil make it an English controversie: supposing you to be the Lady, and three such Gentlemen to come unto you a woing [wooing]. In faith, who should be the speeder?

GEntleman (quoth Iffida) you may aunswwere your owne question by your owne argument if you would, for if you conclude the Lady to be beautiful, wittie and wealthy, then no doubt she will take such a one, as should have comelynesse of body, sharpenesse of wit, and store of riches: Otherwise, I would condempne that wit in hir, which thou seeme so much to commend, hir selfe excelling in three qualyties, shee should take one, which was endued but with one: in perfect love the eye must be pleased, the eare delighted, the heart comforted: beautie causeth the one, wit the other, wealth the third.

To love onely for comelynesse were lust: to lyke for wit onely, madnesse: to desire chiefly for goods, covetousness: and yet can there be no love with-out beautie, but we loath it: not with-out wit, but we scorne it: nor with-out riches, but we repent it. Every floure hath his blossome, his savour, his sappe: and every desire should have to feede the eye, to please the wit, to maintaine the roote.

Ganimedes maye cast an amiable countenaunce, but that feedeth not: Ulysses tell a wittie tale, but that fatteth not: Croesus bring bagges of gold, & that doth both: yet with-out the ayde of beautie he cannot bestow it, and with-out wit he knowes not how to use it. So that I am of this minde, there is no Lady but in hir choyce wil be so resolute, that either she wil lyve a virgin till she have such a one, as shall have all these three properties, or els dye for anger, if she match with one that wanteth any one of them.

I perceiving hir to stand so stifly, thought if I might to remove hir footing, and replyed againe.

LAdye you now thinke by pollicie to start, where you bound me to aunswere by necessitie, not suffering me to joyne three flowers in one Nosegay, but to chuse one, or els to leave all. The lyke must I crave at your hands, that if of force you must consent to any one, whether would you have the proper man, the wise, or the rich.

She as not without an answeere, quickly requited him.

ALthough there be no force, which may compel me to take anye, neither a profer, where-by I might chuse all: Yet to aunswere you flatly, I woulde have the wealthiest, for beautie without riches, goeth a begging, and wit with-out wealth, cheapeneth all things in the Faire, but buyeth nothing.

Truly Lady quoth I, either you speake not as you think, or you be far overshot, for me thinketh, that he that hath beautie, shal have money of ladyes for almes, and he that is wittie wil get it by craft: but the rich having inough, and neither loved for shape nor sence, must either keepe his golde for those he knowes not, or spend it on them, that cares not. Well, aunswered Iffida, so many men, many mindes, now you have my opinion, you must not thinke to wring me from it, for I had rather be as all women are, obstinate in mine owne conceipt, then apt to be wrought to others constructions.

My father liked hir choyce, whether it were to flatter hir, or for feare to offend hir, or that he loved money himselfe better then either wit or beautie. And our conclusions thus ended, she accompanied with hir gentlewomen and other hir servaunts, went to hir Uncles, having taried a day longer with my father, then she appoynted, though not so manye with me, as shee was welcome.

Ah Philautus, what torments diddest thou thinke poore Fidus endured, who now felt the flame even to take full holde of his heart, and thinking by solitarinesse to drive away melancholy, and by imagination to forget love, I laboured no otherwise, then he that to have his Horse stande still, pricketh him with the spurre, or he that having sore eyes rubbeth them with salt water. At the last with continual abstinence from meat, from company, from sleepe, my bodye began to consume, & my head to waxe idle, insomuch that the sustenance wich perforce was thrust into my mouth, was never disgested, nor the talke which came from my adle braines liked: For ever in my slumber me thought Iffida presented hir self, now with a countenance pleasant and merry, streight-waies with a colour full of wrath and mischiefe.

My father no lesse sorrowfull for my disease, then ignorant of the cause, sent for divers Phisitians, among the which ther came an Italian, who feeling my pulses, casting my water, & marking my lookes, commaunded the chamber to be voyded, & shutting the doore applyed this medicine to my malady. Gentleman, there is none that can better heale your wound than he that made it, so that you should have sent for Cupid, not Aesculapius, for although they be both Gods, yet will they not meddle in each others office, Appelles wil not goe about to amend Lisippus carving, yet they both wrought Alexander: not Hippocrates busie himself with Ovids art, & yet they both described Venus. Your humour is to be purged not by the Apothecaries confections, but by the following of good counsaile.

You are in love Fidus? Which if you cover in a close chest, will burne every place before it burs the locke. For as we know by Phisick that poyson wil disperse it selfe into every veyne, before it part the hart: so I have heard by those that in love could say somwhat, that it maimeth everye parte, before it kill the Lyver. If therefore you will make me privie to all your desires, I will procure such meanes, as you shall recover in short space, otherwise if you seeke to conceale the partie, and encrease your passions, you shall but shorten your lyfe, and so loose your Love, for whose sake you lyve.

When I heard my Phisition so pat to hit my disease, I could not dissemble with him, least he shold bewray it, neither would I, in hope of remedy.

Unto him I discoursed the faithfull love, which I bore to Iffida, and described in every perticular, as to you I have done. Which he hearing, procured with in one daye, Lady Iffida to see me, telling my Father, that my disease was but a consuming Fever, which he hoped in short time to cure.

When my Lady came, and saw me so altered in a moneth, wasted to the harde bones, more lyke a ghoast then a lyving creature, after many words of comfort (as women want none about sicke persons) when she saw opportunitie, she asked me whether the Italian was my messenger, or if he were, whether his embassage were true, which question I thus aunswered.

Lady to dissemble with the worlde, when I am departing from it, woulde profite me nothing with man, & hinder me much with god, to make my deathbed the place of deceipt, might hasten my death, and encrease my daunger.

I have loved you long, and now at the length must leave you, whose harde heart I will not impute to discurtesie, but destinie, it contenteth me that I dyed in fayth, though I coulde not live in favour, neyther was I ever more desirous to begin my love, then I am now to ende my life. Thinges which cannot be altered are to be borne, not blamed: follies past are sooner remembred then redressed, and time lost may well be repented, but never recalled. I will not recount the passions I have suffered, I think the effects show them, and now it is more behoofull for me to fall to praying for a new life, then to remember the olde: yet this I ad (which though it merit no mercy to save, it deserveth thankes of a friend that onely I loved thee, and lived for thee, and nowe dye for thee. And so turning on my left side, I fetched a deepe sigh.

Iffyda the water standing in hir eyes, clasping my hand in hirs, with a sadde countenaunce answered mee thus.

My good Fidus, if the encreasing of my sorrowes, might mittigate the extremitie of thy sicknes, I could be content to resolve my selfe into teares to ridde thee of trouble: but the making of a fresh wound in my body, is nothing to the healing of a festred sore in thy bowelles: for that such diseases are to be cured in the end, by the meanes of their originall. For as by Basill the Scorpion is engendred, and by the meanes of the same hearb destroyed: so love which by time & fancie is bred in an idle head, is by time and fancie banished from the heart: or as the Salamander which being a long space nourished in the fire, at the last quencheth it, so affection having taken holde of the fancie, and living as it were in the minde of the lover, in tract of tyme altereth and chaungeth the heate, and turneth it to chilnesse.

It is no small griefe to me Fidus, that I should bee thought to be the cause of thy languishing, and cannot be remedy of thy disease. For unto thee I will reveale more then either wisdome would allowe, or my modestie permit.

And yet so much, as may acquit me of ungratitude towards thee, and ridde thee of the suspition concieved of me.

SO it is Fidus and my good friende, that about a two yeares past, ther was in court a Gentleman, not unknown unto thee, nor I think unbeloved of thee, whose name I will not conceale, least thou shouldest eyther thinke me to forge, or him not worthy to be named. This Gentleman was called Thirsus, in all repspectes so well qualified as had he not beene in love with mee, I should have bene enamoured of him.

But his hastinesse prevented my heate, who began to sue for that, which I was ready to proffer, whose sweete tale although I wished it to be true, yet at the first I could not beleeve it: For that men in matters of love have as many wayes to deceive, as they have wordes to utter.

I seemed straight laced, as one neither accustomed to such suites, nor willing to entertaine such a servant, yet so warily, as putting him from me with my little finger, I drewe him to me with my whole hand.

For I stoode in a great mamering, how I might behave my selfe, least being too coye he might thinke mee proud, or using too much curtesie, he might judge mee wanton. Thus long time I held him in a doubt, thinking there-by to have just tryall of his faith, or plaine knowledge of his falshood. In this manner I led my life almost one yeare, untill with often meeting and divers conferrences, I felt my selfe so wounded, that though I thought no heaven to my happe, yet I lyved as it were in hell till I had enjoyed my hope.

For as the tree Ebenus though it no way be set in a flame, yet it burneth with sweete savors: so my minde though it could not be fired, for that I thought my selfe wise, yet was it almost consumed to ashes with pleasaunt delights and sweete cogitations: in-somuch as it fared with mee, as it doth with the trees striken with thunder, which having the barkes sounde, are brused in the bodye, for finding my outwarde partes with-out blemyshe, looking into my minde, coulde not see it with-out blowes.

I now perceiving it high time to use the Phisition, who was alwayes at hande, determined at the next meeting to conclud such faithful and inviolable league of love, as neither the length of time, nor the distance of place, nor the threatning of friendes, nor the spight of fortune, nor the feare of death, should eyther alter or diminish: Which accordingly was then finished, and hath hether-to bene truely fulfilled.

Thirsus, as thou knowest hath ever since bene beyonde the Seas, the remembraunce of whose constancie is the onely comfort of my life: neyther do I rejoyce in any thing more, then in the fayth of my good Thirsus.

Then Fidus I appeale in this case to thy honestie, which shall determine of myne honour. Wouldest thou have me inconstant to my olde friend, and faythfull to a newe? Knowest thou not that as the Almond tree beareth most fruite when he is olde, so love hath greatest fayth when it groweth in age. It falleth out in love, as it doth in Vines, for the young Vines bring the most wine but the olde the best: So tender love maketh greatest showe of blossomes, but tryed love bringeth forth sweetest juyce.

And yet I will say this much, not to adde courage to thy attemptes, that I have taken as great delight in thy company, as ever I did in anyes, (my Thirsus onely excepted) which was the cause that oftentymes, I would eyther by questions move thee to talke, or by quarrels incense thee to choller, perceiving in thee a wit aunswerable to my desire, which I thought throughly to whet by some discourse. But wert thou in comlines Alexander, and my Thirsus, Thersites, wert thou Ulysses, he Mydas, thou Croesus, he Codrus, I would not forsake him to have thee: no not if I might ther-by prolong thy life, or save mine owne, so fast a roote hath true love taken in my hart, that the more it is digged at, the deeper it groweth, the oftener it is cut, the lesse it bleedeth, and the more it is loaden, the better it beareth.

What is there in this vile earth that more commendeth a woman then constancie? It is neyther his wit, though it be excellent that I esteeme, neyther his byrth, though it be noble, nor his bringing uppe, which hath alwayes bene courtlye, but onelye his constancie and my fayth, which no torments, no tyrant, not death shall dissolve. For never shall it be said that Iffyda was false to Thirsus, though Thirsus bee faythlesse (which the Gods forfend) unto Iffyda.

For as Amulius the cunning painter so protrayed (sic.) Minerva, that which waye so-ever one cast his eye, she alwayes behelde him: so hath Cupid so exquisetlye drawne the Image of Thirsus in my heart, that what way so-ever I glaunce, mee thinketh hee looketh stedfastlye uppon mee: in-somuch that when I have seene any to gaze on my beautye (simple God wotte though it bee) I have wished to have the eyes of Augustus Caesar to dymme their sightes with the sharp and scorching beames.

Such force hath time and triall wrought, that if Thirsus shoulde dye I woulde be buried with him, imitating the Eagle which Sesta a Virgin brought up, who seeing the bones of the Virgin cast into the fire, threw him selfe in with them, and burnt himself with them. Or Hippocrates Twinnes, who were borne together, laughed together, wept together, and dyed together.

For as Alexander woulde be engraven of no one man, in a precious stone, but onely of Pergotales: so would I have my picture imprinted in no heart, but in his, by Thirsus.

Consider with thy selfe Fidus, that a faire woman with-out constancie, is not unlyke unto a greene tree without fruit, resembling the Counterfait that Praxitiles made for Flora, before the which if one stoode directly, it seemed to weepe, if on the left side to laugh, if on the other side to sleepe: where-by he noted the light behaviour of hir, which could not in one constant shadow be set downe.

And yet for the great good wil thou bearest me, I can not reject thy service, but I will not admit thy love. But if either my friends, or my selfe, my goods, or my good will may stande thee in steede, use me, trust mee, commaund me, as farre foorth, as thou canst with modestie, & I may graunt with mine honour. If to talke with me, or continually to be in thy company, may in any respect satisfie thy desire, assure thy selfe, I wil attend on thee, as dilygently as thy Nourse, and bee more carefull for thee, then thy Phisition. More I can not promise, without breach of my faith, more thou canst not aske without the suspition of folly.

Heere Fidus take this Diamond, which I have hard olde women say, to have bene of great force, against idle thoughts, vayne dreames, and phrenticke imaginations, which if it doe thee no good, assure thy selfe it can do thee no harme, and better I thinke it against such enchaunted fantasies, then either Homers Moly, or Plinyes Centurie.

When my Lady had ended this straunge discourse, I was striken into such a maze, that for the space almost of halfe an houre, I lay as it had ben in a traunce, mine eyes almost standing in my head without motion, my face without colour, my mouth without breath, in so much that Iffida began to scrich out, and call company, which called me also to my selfe, and then with a faint & trembling tongue, I uttered these words. Lady I cannot use as many words as I would, bicause you see I am weake, nor give so many thankes as I should, for that you deserve infinite. If Thirsus have planted the Vine, I wil not gather the grapes: neither is it reason, that he having sowed with payne, that I should reape the pleasure. This sufficeth me and delighteth me not a litle, yet you are so faithfull, & he so fortunate. Yet good lady, let me obtain one smal sute, which derogating nothing from your true love, must needes be lawful, that is, that I may in this my sicknesse enjoy your company, and if I recover, be admitted as your servaunt: the one wil hasten my health, the other prolong my lyfe. She courteously graunted both, and so carefully tended me in my sicknesse, that what with hir merry sporting, and good nourishing, I began to gather up my crumbes, and in short time to walke into a gallerie, neere adjoyning unto my chamber, wher she disdained not to lead me, & so at al times to use me, as though I had ben Thirsus. Every evening she wold put forth either some pretie question, or utter some mery conceit, to drive me from melancholy. There was no broth that would downe, but of hir making, no meat but of hir dressing, no sleepe enter into mine eyes, but by hir singing, insomuch as she was both my Nurse, my Cooke, and my Phisition. Being thus by hir for the space of one moneth cherished, I waxed strong & so lustie, as though I had never bene sicke.

Now Philautus judge not parcially, whether was she a lady of greater constancie towards Thirsus, or courtesie towards me? Philautus thus aunswered. Now surely Fidus in my opinion, she was no lesse to be commended for keeping hir faith inviolable, then to be praised for giving such almes unto thee, which good behaviour, differeth farre from the nature of our Italian Dames, who if they be constant they dispise al other that seeme to love them. But I long yet to heare the ende, for me thinketh a matter begon with such heate, shoulde not ende with a bitter colde.

O Philautus, the ende is short and lamentable, but as it is have it.

SHe after long recreating of hir selfe in the country, repayred againe to the court, and so did I also, wher I lyved as the Elephant doth by aire, with the sight of my Lady, who ever used me in all hir secrets as one that she most trusted. But my joyes were too great to last, for even in the middle of my blisse, there came tidings to Iffida, that Thirsus was slayn by the Turkes, being then in paye with the King of Spaine, which battaile was so bloody, that many gentlemen lost their lyves.

Iffida so distraught of hir wits, with these newes fell into a phrensie, having nothing in hir mouth, but alwayes this, Thirsus slayne, Thirsus slayne, ever dubling this speach with such pitiful cryes & scriches, as it would have moved the souldiers of Ulisses to sorrow. At the last by good keeping, and such meanes as by Phisicke were provided, she came againe to hir selfe, unto whom I writ many letters to take patiently the death of him, whose life could not be recalled, divers she aunswered, which I will shewe you at my better leasure.

But this was most straunge, that no sute colde allure hir againe to love, but ever shee lyved all in blacke, not once comming where she was most sought for. But whith-in the terme of fine yeares, she began a lyttle to lysten to mine old sute, of whose faithfull meaning she had such tryall, as she coulde not thinke that either my love was bylded uppon lust, or deceipt.

But destenie cut off my love, by the cutting off hir lyfe, for falling into a hot pestilent fever, she dyed, and how I tooke it, I meane not to tell it: but forsaking the Court presently, I have heere lyved ever since, and so meane untill Death shall call me.

NOw Gentlemen I have helde you too long, I feare me, but I have ended at the last. You see what Love is, begon with griefe, continued with sorrowe, ended with death. A paine full of a pleasure, a joye replenished with misery, a Heaven, a Hell, a God, a Divell, and what not, that either hath in it solace or sorrowe? Where the dayes are spent in thoughts, the nights in dreames, both in daunger, either beguylyng us of that we had, or promising us that we had not. Full of jealousie with-out cause, and voyde of feare when there is cause: and so many inconveniences hanging upon it, as to recken them all were infinite, and to taste but one of them, intollerable.

Yet in these dayes, it is thought the signes of a good wit, and the only vertue peculyar to a courtier. For love they say is in young Gentlemen, in clownes it is lust, in olde men dotage, when it is in al menne, madnesse.

But you Philautus, whose bloud is in his chiefest heate, are to take great care, least being over-warmed with love, it so inflame the liver, as it drive you into a consumption.

And thus the olde man brought them into dinner, wher they having taken their repast, Philautus aswell in the name of Euphues as his own, gave this answer to the old mans tale, and these or the like thankes for his cost and curtesie.

Father, I thanke you, no lesse for your talke which I found pleasaunt, then for your counsell which I accompt profitable, and so much for your great cheere and curteous entertainment as it deserveth of those that can-not deserve any.

I perceive in England the woemen and men are in love constant, to straungers curteous, and bountifull in hospitalitie, the two latter we have tryed to your cost, the other we have heard to your paines, and may justifie them al whersoever we become to your praises and our pleasure. This only we crave, that necessitie may excuse our boldnesse, and for amendes we will use such meanes, as although we can-not make you gaine much, yet you shall loose little.

Then Fidus taking Philautus by the hand, spake thus to them both.

GEntlemen and friendes, I am ashamed to receive so many thankes for so small curtesie, and so farre off it is for me to looke for amends for my cost, as I desire nothing more then to make you ammendes for your company, & your good wills in accompting well of ill fare: onely this I crave, that at your returne, after you shall be feasted of great personages, you vochsafe to visitte the cotage of poore Fidus, where you shall be no lesse welcome then Jupiter was to Bacchus: Then Euphues.

We have troubled you too long, and high tyme it is for poore Pilgrimes to take the daye before them, least being be-nighted, they straine curtesie in an other place, and as we say in Athens, fishe and gestes in three dayes are stale: Not-withstanding we will be bold to see you, and in the meane season we thank you, and ever, as we ought, we will pray for you.

Thus after many farewelles, with as many welcomes of the one side, as thankes of the other, they departed, and framed their steppes towards London. And to drive away the time, Euphues began thus to instruct Philautus.

Thou seest Philautus the curtesie of England to surpasse, and the constancie (if the olde Gentleman tolde the trueth) to excell, which warneth us both to be thankfull for the benefits we receive, and circumspect in the behaviour we use, least being unmindfull of good turnes, we bee accompted ingrate, and being dissolute in our lives, we be thought impudent.

When we come into London, wee shall walke in the garden of the worlde, where amonge many flowers we shall see some weedes, sweete Roses and sharpe Nettles, pleasaunt Lillyes and pricking Thornes, high Vines and lower Hedges. All thinges (as the fame goeth) that maye eyther please the sight, or dislike the smell, eyther feede the eye with delight, or fill the nose with infection.

Then good Philautus lette the care I have of thee be in steede of grave counsell, and my good will towardes thee in place of wisdome.

I hadde rather thou shouldest walke amonge the beddes of wolsome potte-hearbes, then the knottes of pleasaunt flowers, and better shalt thou finde it to gather Garlyke for thy stomack, then a sweete Violet for thy sences.

I feare mee Philautus, that seeing the amyable faces of the Englyshe Ladyes, thou wilt cast of all care both of my counsayle and thine owne credit. For wel I know that a fresh colour doth easily dim a quicke sight, that a sweete Rose doth soonest pearce a fine sent, that pleasaunt sirroppes doth chiefeliest infecte a delicate taste, that beautifull woemen do first of all allure them that have the wantonnest eyes and the whitest mouthes.

A straunge tree there is called Alpina, which bringeth forth the fayrest blossomes of all trees, which the Bee eyther suspecting to be venemous, or misliking bicause it is so glorious, neither tasteth it, not commeth neere it.

In the like case Philautus would I have thee to imitate the Bee, that when thou shalt beholde the amiable blossomes of the Alpine tree in any woemanne, thou shunne them, as a place infected eyther with poyson to kill thee, or honnye to deceive thee: For it were more convenient thou shouldest pull out thine eyes and live with-out love, then to have them cleare and be infected with lust.

Thou must chuse a woeman as the Lapidarie doth a true Saphire, who when he seeth it to glister, covereth it with oyle, & then if it shine, he alloweth it, if not, hee breaketh it: So if thou fall in love with one that is beautifull, cast some kynde of coulour in hir face, eyther as it were mislykinge hir behaviour, or hearing of hir lightnesse, and if then shee looke as fayre as before, wooe hir, win hir, and weare hir.

Then my good friende, consider with thy selfe what thou art, an Italian, where thou art, in England, whome thou shalt love if thou fall into that vaine, an Aungell: let not thy eye go beyond thy eare, nor thy tongue so farre as thy feete.

And thus I conjure thee, that of all thinges thou refrayne from the hot fire of affection.

For as the precious stone Anthracitis beeing throwne into the fyre looketh blacke and halfe dead, but being cast into the water glistreth like the Sunne beames: so the previous minde of man once put into the flame of love, is as it were uglye, and loseth his vertue, but sprinckled with the water of wisdome, and detestation of such fond delightes, it shineth like the golden rayes of Phoebus.

And it shall not be amisse, though my Phisicke be simple, to prescribe a straight diot before thou fall into thine olde desease.

First let thy apparell be but meane, neyther too brave to shew thy pride, nor too base to bewray thy povertie, be as careful to keepe thy mouth from wine, as thy fingers from fyre. Wine is the glasse of the minde, and the onely sauce that Bacchus gave Ceres when he fell in love: be not daintie mouthed, a fine taste noteth the fond appetites, that Venus sayde hir Adonis to have, who seing him to take chiefest delight in coastle cates, smyling sayd this. I am glad that my Adonis hath a sweete tooth in his head, and who knoweth not what followeth? But I will not wade too farre, seeing heeretofore as wel in my cooling card, as at divers other times, I have given thee a caveat, in this vanity of love to have a care: & yet me thinketh the more I warne thee, the lesse I dare trust thee, for I know not how it commeth to passe, that every minute I am troubled in minde about thee.

When Euphues had ended, Philautus thus began.

EUphues, I thinke thou wast borne with this word love in thy mouth, or that thou art bewitched with it in minde, for ther is scarce three words uttered to me, but the third is Love: which how often I have aunswered thou knowest, & yet that I speake as I thinke, thou never beleevest: either thinking thy selfe, a God, to know thoughts, or me worse then a Divell, not to acknowledge them. When I shall give anye occasion, warne me, and that I should give none, thou hast already armed me, so that this perswade thy selfe, I wil sticke as close to thee, as the soale doth to the shoe. But truely, I must needes commende the courtesie of England, and olde Fidus for his constancie to his Lady Iffida, and his faith to hir friende Thirsus, the remembraunce of which discourse didde often bring in to my minde the hate I bore to Lucilla, who loved all, and was not found faithfull to any. But I lette that passe, least thou come in againe with thy fa-burthen , and hit mee in the teeth with love, for thou hast so charmed me, that I dare not speake any word that may be wrested to charitie, least thou say, I meane Love, and in truth, I thinke there is no more difference betweene them, then betweene a Broome, and a Beesome.

I will follow thy dyot and thy counsayle, I thanke thee for thy good will, so that I wil now walke under thy shadowe and be at thy commaundement: Not so aunswered Euphues, but if thou follow me, I dare by thy warrant we will not offend much. Much talke ther was in the way, which much shortned their way: and at last they came to London, where they met divers straungers of their friends, who in small space brought them familiarly acquainted with certaine English gentlemen who much delighted in the company of Euphues, who they found both sober & wise, yet some times mery & pleasant. They wer brought into al places of the citie, & lodged at the last in a Merchaunts house, wher they continued till a certeine breach. They used continually the Court, in the which Euphues tooke such delyght, that he accompted al the praises he hard of it before, rather to be envious, then otherwise, & to be parciall, in not giving so much as it deserved, & yet to be pardoned bicause they coulde not. It happened that these English gentlemen conducted these two straungers to a place, where divers gentlemen wer: some courtiers, others of the country: Wher being welcome, they frequented almost every day for the space of one moneth, enterteining of time in courtly pastimes, though not in the court, inso much that if they came not, they wer sent for, & so vexed as they had ben countrymen, not straungers. Philautus with this continual accesse & often conference with gentlewomen, began to weane himselfe from the counsaile of Euphues, & to wed his eyes to the comelines of Ladies, yet so warily as neither his friend could by narrow watching discover it, neither did he by any wanton countenance, bewray it, but carying the Image of Love, engraven in the bottome of his hart, & the picture of courtesie, imprinted in his face, he was thought to Euphues courtly, and knowen to himselfe comfortlesse. Among a number of Ladyes he fixed his eyes upon one, whose countenaunce seemed to promise mercy, & threaten mischief, intermedling a desire of liking, with a disdain of love: shewing hir selfe in courtesie to be familyar with al, & with a certein comly pride to accept none, whose wit wold commonly taunt without despite, but not without disport, as one that seemed to abhorre love worse then lust, & lust worse then murther, of greater beautie then birth, & yet of lesse beautie then honestie, which gate hir more honor by vertue then nature could by Arte, or fortune might be promotion. She was redy of answer, yet wary: shril of speach, yet sweet: in al hir passions so temperate, as in hir greatest mirth none wold think hir wanton, neither in hir deepest grief solum, but alwaies to looke with so sober cheerfulnes, as it was hardly thought wher she wer more commended for hir gravitie of the aged, or for hir courtlines of the youth: oftentimes delighted to heare discourses of love, but ever desirous to be instructed in learning: somwhat curious to keepe hir beautie, which made hir comly, but more careful to increase hir credit, which made hir commendable: not adding the length of a haire to courtlines, that might detract the bredth of a haire from chastitie: In al hir talke so pleasant, in al hir lookes so amiable, so grave modestie joyned with so wittie mirth, that they that wer entangled with hir beautie, wer inforced to prefer hir wit before their wils: & they that loved her vertue, wer compelled to prefer their affections before hir wisdome: Whose rare qualyties, caused so straunge events, that the wise wer allured to vanitie, & the wantons to vertue, much lyke the river in Arabia, which turneth golde to drosse, & durt to silver. In conclusion, ther wanted nothing in this English Angell that nature might adde for perfection, or fortune could give for wealth, or god doth commonly bestow on mortal creatures: And more easie it is in the description of so rare a personage, to imagine what she had not, then to repeat al she had. But such a one she was, as almost they all are that serve so noble a Prince, such virgins cary lights before such a Vesta, such Nymphes, arrowes with such a Diana. But why go I about to set hir in black & white, whome Philautus is now with all colours importraying in the Table of his hart. And surely I think by this he is half mad, whom long since, I left in a great maze. Philautus viewing all these things, & more then I have uttered (for that the lovers eye perceth deeper) wythdrew himself secretly into his lodging and locking his dore, began to debate with himselfe in this manner.

AH thrice unfortunate is he that is once faithful, and better it is to be a mercilesse souldiour, then a true lover: the one liveth by an others death, the other dyeth by his owne life. What straunge fits be these Philautus that burne thee with such a heate, that thou shakest for cold, & all thy body in a shivering sweat, in a flaming yce, melteth like wax & hardeneth like the Adamant? Is it love? then would it were death: for likelyer it is that I should loose my life, then win my Love. Ah Camilla, but why do I name thee, when thou dost not heare me, Camilla, name thee I will, though thou hate me. But alas the sound of my name doth make me sound for grief. What is in me that thou shouldest not dispise, & what is ther not in thee that I should not wonder at. Thou a women, the last thing God made, & therefore the best. I a man that could not live without thee, & therfore the worst. Al things wer made for man, as a sovereign, and man made for woman, as a slave. O Camilla, woulde either thou hadst ben bred in Italy, or I in England, or wold thy vertues wer lesse then thy beautie, or my vertues greater then my affections.

I see that India bringeth golde, but England breedeth goodnesse; And had not England beene thrust into a corner of the world it would have filled the whole world with woe. Where such women are as we have talked of in Italy, heard of in Rome, read of in Greece, but never found but in this Island: And for my part (I speake softly, bicause I will not heare my selfe) would there were none such here, or such every wher. Ah fond Euphues my deere friend, but a simple foole if thou beleeve now thy cooling Carde, and an obstinate foole if thou do not recant it. But it may be thou layest that Carde for the elevation of Naples like an Astronomer. If it wer so I forgive thee, for I must beleeve thee: if for the whole world, behold England, wher Camilla was borne, the flower of courtesie, the picture of comelynesse: one that shameth Venus, beeing some-what fairer, but much more vertuous, and stayneth Diana being as chast, but much more amiable. I but Philautus the more beuti she hath, the more pride, & the more vertue the more precisenes. The Pecock is a Bird for none but Juno, the Dove for none but Vesta: None must wear Venus in a Tablet, but Alexander, none Pallas in a ring but Ulysses. For as there is but one Phoenix in the world, so is there but one tree in Arabia, where-in she buyldeth, and as there is but one Camilla to be heard off, so is ther but one Caesar that she will like off. Why then Philautus what resteth for thee but to dye with patience, seing thou mayst not lyve with plesure. When thy disease is so daungerous that the third letting of bloud is not able to recover thee, when neither Ariadnes thrid, nor Sibillas bough, nor Medeas seede, may remedy thy griefe. Dye, dye, Philautus, rather with a secret scarre, then an open scorne. Patroclus can-not maske in Achilles armour without a maime, nor Philautus in the English Court without a mocke. I but ther is no Pearle so hard but Viniger breaketh it, no Diamond so stony, but bloud mollyfieth, no hart, so stif but Love weakeneth it. And what then? Bicause shee may love one, is it necessarye shee should love thee? Bee there not infinite in England, who as farre exceede thee in wealth, as she doth all the Italians in wisedome, and are as farre above thee in all qualyties of the body, as she is above them in all giftes of the minde? Doest thou not see every minute the noble youth of England frequent the Court, with no lesse courage then thou cowardise. If Courtlye bravery, may allure hir, who more gallant, then they? If personage, who more valyant? If wit who more sharp, if byrth, who more noble, if vertue, who more devoute?

When there are all thinges in them that shoulde delyght a Ladye, and no one thing in thee that is in them, with what face Philautus canst thou desire that, which they can-not deserve, or with what service deserve that, whiche so manye desyre before thee?

The more beautye Camilla hath, the lesse hope shouldest thou have: and thinke not but the bayte that caught thee, hath beguiled other Englyshe-men or now. Infanntes they canne love, neyther so hard harted to despyse it, nor so symple not to discerne it.

It is likely then Philautus that the Foxe will let the Grapes hang for the Goose, or the English-man bequeath beautie to the Italian? No no Philautus assure thy selfe, there is no Venus but she hath hir Temple, where on the one side Vulcan may knocke but Mars shall enter: no Sainte but hath hir shrine, and he that can-not wynne with a Pater noster, must offer a pennye.

And as rare it is to see the Sunne with-out a light, as a fayre woeman with-out a lover, and as neere is Fancie to Beautie, as the pricke to the Rose, as the stalke to the rynde, as the earth to the roote.

Doest thou not thinke that hourely shee is served and sued unto, of thy betters in byrth, thy equales in wealth, thy inferiors in no respect.

If then she have given hir fayth, darest thou call hir honour into suspition of falshood?

If she refuse such vaine delightes, wilt thou bring hir wisdome into the compasse of folly?

If she love so beautiful a peece, then will she not be unconstant: If she vow virginitie, so chast a Lady cannot be perjured: and of two thinges the one of these must be true, that eyther hir minde is alreadye so weaned from love, that she is not to be moved, or so settled in love, that she is not to be removed.

I but it maye bee, that so younge and tender a heart hath not yet feltte the impression of Love: I but it can-not bee, that so rare perfection should wante that which they all wish, affection.

A Rose is sweeter in the budde, then full blowne. Young twigges are sooner bent thenolde trees. White Snowe sooner melted then hard Yce: which proveth that the younger shee is, the sooner she is to bee wooed, and the fayrer shee is, the likelier to be wonne. Who wil not run with Atlanta, though he be lame? Who whould not wrastle with Cle0patra, though he were sicke? Who feareth to have Camilla, though he were blinde.

Ah beautie, such is thy force, that Vulcan courteth Venus, she for comlinesse a Goddesse, he for uglinesse, a divell, more fit to strike with a hammer in his forge, then to holde a Lute in thy chamber.

Whether dost thou wade Philautus in launcing the wound thou shouldest taint, and and pricking the heart which asketh a plaister: for in deciphering what she is, thou hast forgotten what thou thy selfe art, and being daseled with hir beautie, thou seest not thine own basenesse. Thou art an Italian poore Philautus, as much misliked for the vice of thy countrey, as she mervailed at for the vertue of hirs, and with no lesse shame doest thou heare, then know with griefe, how if any English-man be infected with any mysdemeanour, they say with one mouth, hee is Italionated: so odious is that nation to this, that the very man is no lesse hated for the name, then the countrey for the manners.

O Italy I must love thee, bicause I was borne in thee, but if the infection of the ayre be such, as whosoever breede in thee, is poysoned by thee, then had I rather be a Bastard to the Turke Ottomo, then heire to the Emperour Nero.

Thou which here-tofore wast most famous for victories, art become most infamous by thy vices, as much disdained now for thy beastlynesse in peace, as once feared for thy battayles in warre, thy Caesar being turned to a vicar, thy Consulles to Cardinalles, thy sacred Senate of three hundred grave Counsellors, to a shamelesse Sinod of three thousand greedy caterpillers. Where there is no vice punished, no vertue praysed, where none is long loved if he do not ill, where none shal be long loved if he do well. But I leave to name thy sinnes, which no Syphers can number, and I would I were as free from the infection of some of them, as I am far from the reckoning of all of them, or would I were as much envied for good, as thou art pittied for ill.

Philautus would thou haddest never lived in Naples, or never left it. What new skirmishes dost thou now feele betweene reason and appetite, love and wisdome, daunger and desire.

Shall I go and attyre my selfe in costly apparell, tushe a faire pearle in a Murrians eare cannot make him white? Shall I ruffle in newe devices, with Chaines, with Bracelettes, with Ringes and Robes, tushe the previous Stones of Mausolus Sepulchre cannot make the dead carcasse sweete.

Shall I curle my hayre, coulour my face, counterfayte courtlynesse? tushe there is no paynting can make a pycture sensible. No no Philautus, eyther swallowe the juyce of Mandrak, which maye cast thee into a dead sleepe, or chewe the hearbe Chervell, which may cause thee to mistake every thing, so shalt thou either dye in thy slumber, or thinke Camilla deformed by thy potion.

No I can-not do so though I would, neither would I though I could. But suppose thou thinke thy selfe in personage comely, in birth noble, in wit excellent, in talke eloquent, of great revenewes: yet will this only be cast in thy teethe as an obloquie, thou art an Italian.

I but all that be blacke digge not for coales, all things that breede in the mudde, are not Evets, all that are borne in Italy, be not ill. She will not think what most are, but enquire what I am. Everye one that sucketh a Wolfe is not ravening, ther is no countrey but hath some as bad as Italy, many that have worse, none but hath some. And canst thou thinke that an English Gentleman wil suffer an Italian to be his Rivall? No, no, thou must either put up a quarrell with shame, or trye the Combat with perill. An English man hath three qualyties, he can suffer no partner in his love, no straunger to be his equal, or to be dared by any. Then Philautus be as wary of thy life, as careful for thy love: thou must at Rome, reverence Romulus, in Boetia Hercules, in Englande those that dwell there, els shalt thou not lyve there.

Ah Love what wrong doest thou me, which once beguildest me with that I had, & now beheaddest me for that I have not. The love I bore to Lucilla was cold water, the love I owe to Camilla hoate fire, the firste was ended with defame, the last must beginne with death.

I see now that as the resiluation of an Ague is desperate, and the second opening of a veyne deadly, so the renuing of love is, I know not what to terme it, worse then death, and as bad, as what is worst, I perceive at the last the punishment of love is to live. Thou art heere a straunger without acquaintance, no friend to speake for thee, no one to care for thee, Euphues will laugh at thee if he know it, and thou wilt weepe if he know it not. O infortunate Philautus, born in the wane of the Moone, and as likely to obtain thy wish, as the Wolfe is to catch the Moone. But why goe I about to quench fire with a sword, or with affection to mortifie my love?

O my Euphues, would I had thy wit, or thou my wil. Shal I utter this to thee, but thou art more likely to correct my follyes with counsaile, then to comfort me with any pretie conceit. Thou wilt say that she is a Lady of great credit, & I heere of no countenaunce. I but Euphues, low trees have their tops, smal sparkes their heat, the Flye his splene, the Ant hir gall, Philautus his affection, which is neither ruled by reason, nor led by appointment. Thou broughtest me into Englande Euphues to see & I am blynde, to seeke adventures, and I have lost my self, to remedy love, & I am now past cure, much like Scriphuis that ole drudge in Naples, who coveting to heale his bleard eye, put it out. My thoughts are high, my fortune low, & I resemble that foolish Pilot, who hoyseth up all his sayles, & hath no winde, & launceth out his ship, & hath no water. Ah Love thou takest away my tast, & provokest mine appetite, yet if Euphues would be as willing to further me now, as he was once wily to hinder me, I shold think my self fortunate & all that are not amorous to be fooles. There is a stone in the floud of Thracia, that whosoever findeth it, is never after grieved, I would I had that stone in my mouth, or that my body were in the River, that either I might be without griefe, or without lyfe. And with these wordes, Euphues knocked at the dore, which Philautus opened pretending drousinesse, and excusing his absence by Idlenesse, unto whom Euphues sayd.

What Philautus doest thou shunne the Courte, to sleepe in a corner, as one either cloyed with delight, or having surfetted with desire, beleeve me Philautus if the winde be in that doore, or thou so devout to fall from beautie to thy beads, & to forsake the court to lyve in a Cloister, I cannot tel whether I should more wonder at thy fortune, or prayse thy wisedome, but I feare me, if I live to see thee so holy, I shall be an old man before I dye, or if thou dye not before thou be so pure, thou shalt be more mervayled at for thy yeares, then esteemed for thy vertues. In sooth my good friende, if I should tarry a yeare in England, I could not abide an houre in my chamber, for I know not how it commeth to passe, that in earth I thinke no other Paradise, such varietie of delights to allure a courtly eye, such rare puritie to draw a well disposed minde, that I know not whether they be in Englande more amorous or vertuous, whether I shoulde thinke my time best bestowed, in viewing goodly Ladies, or hearing godly lessons. I had thought no woman to excel Livia in the world, but now I see that in England they be al as good, none worse, many better, insomuch that I am enforced to thinke, that it is as rare to see a beautifull woman in England without vertue, as to see a faire woman in Italy without pride. Curteous they are without coynes, but not without a care, amiable without pride, but not without courtlines: mery without curiositie, but not without measure, so that conferring the Ladies of Greece with the ladies of Italy, I finde the best but indifferent, & comparing both countries with the Ladies of England, I accompt them al stark naught. And truly Philautus thou shalt not shrive me like a ghostly father, for to thee I will confesse in two things my extreme folly, the one in loving Lucilla, who in comparison of these had no spark of beautie, the other for making a cooling card against women, when I see these to have so much vertue, so that in the first I must acknowledge my judgement raw, to discerne shadowes, and rash in the latter to give so peremtory sentence, in both I thinke my selfe, to have erred so much, that I recant both, beeing ready to take any penaunce thou shalt enjoyne me, whether it be a faggot for Heresie, or a fine for Hipocrisie. An Hereticke I was by mine invective against women, and no lesse then an Hipocrite for dissembling with thee, for nowe Philautus I am of that minde that women, but Philautus taking holde of this discourse, interrupted him with a sodaine reply, as followeth.

STaye Euphues, I can levell at the thoughtes of thy heart by the words of thy mouth, for that commonly the tongue uttereth the minde, & the out ward speach bewrayeth the inward spirit. For as a good roote is knowen by a faire blossome, so is the substaunce of the heart noted by the shew of the countenaunce. I can see day at a little hole, thou must halt cuningly if thou beguile a Cripple, but I cannot chuse but laugh to see thee play with the bayt, that I feare thou hast swallowed, thinking with a Myst, to make my sight blynde, bicause I shold not perceive thy eyes bleared, but in faithe Euphues, I am nowe as well acquainted with thy conditions as with thy person, and use hath made me so expert in thy dealyngs, that well thou mayst juggle with the world, but thou shalt never deceive me.

A burnt childe dreadeth the fire, he that stumbleth twice at one stone is worthy to break his shins, thou mayst happely forsweare thy selfe, but thou shalt never delude me. I know thee now as readely by thy visard as thy visage: It is a blynde Goose that knoweth not a Foxe from a Fearne-bush, and a foolish fellow that cannot discerne craft from conscience, being once cousened. But why should I lament thy folyes with griefe, when thou seemest to colour them with deceite. Ah Euphues I love thee well, but thou hatest thy selfe, and seekest to heape more harms on thy head by a little wit, then thou shalt ever claw of by thy great wisdom, al fire is not quenched by water, thou hast not love in a string, affection is not thy slave, you canst not leave when thou listest. With what face Euphues canst thou returne to thy vomit, seeming with the greedy hounde to lap up that which thou diddest cast up. I am ashamed to rehearse the tearmes that once thou diddest utter of malice against women, and art thou not ashamed now again to recant them? they must needs think thee either envious upon smal occasion, or amourous upon a light cause, and they will they all be as ready to hate thee for thy spight, as to laugh at thee for thy loosenesse.

No Euphues so deepe a wound cannot be healed with so light a playster, thou maist by arte recover the skin, thou maist flatter with fooles bicause thou art wise, but the wise will ever marke thee for a foole. Then sure I cannot see what thou gainest if the simple condemne thee of flatterie, and the grave of folly. Is thy cooling Carde of this propertie, to quench fyre in others, and to kindle flames in thee? or is it a whetstone to make thee sharpe and us blunt, or a sword to cut wounds in me and cure them in Euphues? Why didst thou write that agaynst them thou never thoughtest, or if thou diddest it, why doest thou not follow it? But it is lawfull for the Phisition to surfet, for the sheepeheard to wander, for Euphues to prescribe what he will, and do what he lyst.

The sick patient must keepe a straight diot, the silly sheepe a narrow folde, poore Philautus must beleeve Euphues and all lovers (he onelye excepted) are cooled with a carde of teene, or rather fooled with a vaine toy. Is this thy professed puritie to crye peccavi? thinking it as great sinne to be honest, as shame not to be amorous, thou that diddest blaspheme the noble sex of women with-out cause, dost thou now commit Idolatrie with them with-out care? observing as little gravitie then in thine unbrideled furie, as thou dost now reason by thy disordinate fancie. I see now that there is nothing more faire then snow, yet nothing les firm, nothing more fine then witte, yet nothing more fickle. For as Polypus upon what rock soever he liketh, turneth himselfe into the same likenesse, or as the bird Piralis sitting upon white cloth is white, upon greene, greene and changeth hir coulour with every cloth, or as our changeable silk, turned to the Sunne hath many coulours, and turned backe the contrary, so wit shippeth it self to every conceit being constant in nothing but inconstancie. Wher is now thy conference with Athens, thy devotion, thy Divinitie? Thou sayest I am fallen from beautie to my beades, and I see thou art come from thy booke to beastlines, from coting of the scriptures, to courting with Ladies, from Paule to Ovid, from the Prophets to Poets, resembling the wanton Diophantus, who refused his mothers blessing, to heare a song, and thou forsakest Gods blessing to sit in a warme Sunne. But thou Euphues thinkest to have thy prerogative (which others will not graunt thee for a priviledge) that under the couler of wit, thou maist be accounted wise and, being obstinate, thou art to be thought singuler. There is no coyne good silver, but thy half-penny, if thy glasse glister it must needs be gold, if you speak a sentence it must be a law, if give a censer an oracle, if dreame a Prophecie, if conjecture a truth: insomuch, that I am brought into a doubt, whether I should more lament in thee, thy want of governement, or laugh at thy fained gravity: But as that rude Poette Cherilus hadde nothing to be noted in his verses, but onely the name of Alexander, nor that rurall Poet Daretus any thing to cover his deformed ape, but a white curtain, so Euphues hath no one thing to shadow his shamelesse wickednes, but onely a shew of wit. I speake al this Euphues, not that I envie thy estate, but that I pitty it, and in this I have discharged the duetye of a friend, in that I have not wincked at thy folly. Thou art in love Euphues, contrarie to thine oth, thine honor, thine honestie, neither would any professing that thou doest, live as thou doest, which is no lesse grief to me then shame to thee: excuse thou maist make to me, bicause I am credulous, but amends to the world thou canst not frame, bicause thou art come out of Greece, to blase thy vice in England, a place too honest for thee, and thou too dishonest for any place. And this my flat & friendly delling if thou wilt not take as I meane, take as thou wilt: I feare not thy force, I force not thy friendship: And so I ende.

Euphues not a little amased with the discurteous speach [speech] of Philautus, whome he sawe in such a burning fever, did not applye warme clothes to continue his sweate, but gave him colde drink to make him shake, eyther thinking so straunge a maladie was to be cured with a desperate medicine, or determining to use as little art in Phisicke, as the other did honestie in friendshippe, and therfore in steede of a pyll to purge his hotte bloud, he gave him a choake-peare to stoppe his breath, replying as followeth.

I had thought Philautus, that a wounde healing so faire could never have bred to a Fistula, or a bodye kept so well from drinke, to a dropsie, but I well perceive that thy fleshe is as ranke as the wolves, who as soone as he is stricken recovereth a skinne, but rankleth inwardly untill it come to the lyver, and thy stomacke as quesie as olde Nesters, unto whome pappe was no better then poyson, and thy body no less distempered then Hermogenes, whom abstinence from wine, made oftentimes dronken. I see thy humor is love, thy quarrell jelousie, the one I gather by thine addle head, the other by thy suspicious nature: but I leave them both to thy will and thee to thine owne wickednesse: pretily to cloake thine own folly, thou callest me theefe first, not unlike unto a curst wife, who deserving a check, beginneth first to scolde.

There is nothing that can cure the kings Evill, but a Prince, nothing ease a plurisie but letting bloud, nothing purge thy humour, but that which I cannot give thee, nor thou gette of any other, libertie.

Thou seemest to coulour craft by a friendly kindnes, taking great care for my bondage, that I might not distrust thy follies, which is, as though the Thrush in the cage should be sory for the Nightingale which singeth on the tree, or the Bear at the stake lament the mishap of the Lion in the forest.

But in trueth Philautus though thy skin shewe thee a fox, thy little skil tryeth thee a sheep. It is not the coulour that commendeth a good painter, but the good countenance, nor the cutting that valueth the Diamond, but the vertue, nor the glose of the tongue that tryeth a friend, but the faith. For as al coynes are not good that have the Image of Caesar, nor al golde that are coyned with the kinges stampe, so all is not trueth that beareth the show of godlines, nor all friends that beare a faire face, if thou pretende such love to Euphues, carrye thy heart on the backe of thy hand, and thy tongue in the palme, that I may see what is in thy minde, and thou with thy fingers claspe thy mouth. Of a straunger I canne beare much, bicause I know not his manners, of an enimy more, for that al proceedeth of malice, all things of a friend, if it be to trye me, nothing if it be to betray me: I am of Scipios minde, who had rather that Hannibal should eate his hart with salt, then Laelius grieve it with unkindenesse: and of the lyke with Laelius, who chose rather to bee slayne with the Spaniards, then suspected of Scipio.

I can better take a blister of a Nettle, then a prick of a Rose: more willing that a Raven should pecke out mine eyes, then a Turtle peck at them. To dye of the meate one lyketh not, is better then to surfet of that he loveth: and I had rather an enemy shoulde bury me quicke, then a friende belye me when I am dead.

But thy friendship Philautus is lyke a new fashion, which being used in the morning, is accompted olde before noone, which varietie of chaunging, being often-times noted of a grave Gentleman in Naples, who having bought a Hat of the newest fashion, & best block in all Italy, and wearing but one daye, it was tolde him that it was stale, he hung it up in his studie, & viewing al sorts, al shapes, perceived at the last, his olde Hat againe to come into the new fashion, where-with smiling to himselfe he sayde, I have now lyved compasse, for Adams old Apron must make Eve a new Kirtle: noting this, that when no new thing could be devised, nothing could be more new then the olde. I speake to this ende Philautus, that I see thee as often chaunge thy head as other do their Hats, now beeing friend to Ajax, bicause he shoulde cover thee with his buckler, now to Ulysses, that he may pleade for thee with his eloquence, now to one, and nowe to an other, and thou dealest with thy friendes, as that Gentleman did with his felt, for seeing not my vaine, aunswerable to thy vanities, thou goest about (but yet the neerest way) to hang me up for holydayes, as one neither fitting thy head nor pleasing thy humor, but when Philautus thou shalt see that chaunge of friendships shal make thee a fat Calfe,, & a leane Cofer, that there is no more hold in a new friend then a new fashion, that Hats alter as fast as the Turner can turne his block, & harts as soone as one can turne his back, when seeing every one return to his olde wearing, & finde it the best, then compelled rather for want of others, then good wil of me, thou wilt retire to Euphues, whom thou laydst by the wals, & seeke him againe as a new friend, saying to thy self, I have lyved compasse, Euphues olde faith must make Philautus a new friend. Wherein thou resemblest those that at the first comming of new Wine, leave the olde, yet finding that grape more pleasaunt then wholsesome, they begin to say as Calisthenes did to Alexander, that he had rather carous olde grains with Diogenes in his dish, then new grapes with Alexander in his standing Cup, for of al Gods sayd he, I love not Aesculapius. But thou art willing to chaunge, else wouldest thou be unwilling to quarrel, thou keepest only company out of my sight, with Reynaldo thy country man, & now proving it do not care, if he have better deserved the name of a friend then I, god knoweth, but as Achilles shield being lost on the seas by Ulisses, was tost by the sea to the Tombe of Ajax, as a manifest token of his right: so thou being forsaken of Reynaldo, wilt bee found in Athens by Euphues dore, as ye true owner. Which I speak not as one loth to loose thee, but careful thou loose not thy selfe. Thou thinkest an Apple maye please a childe, & every odde aunswere appease a friend., No Philautus, a plaister is a small amends for a broken head, & a bad excuse, will not purge an ill accuser. A friend is long a getting, & soone lost, like a Merchants riches, who by tempest looseth as much in two houres, as he hath gathered together in twentie yeares. Nothing so fast knit as glasse, yet once broken, it can never be joyned, nothing fuller of mettal then steele, yet over heated it wil never be hardned, friendship is the best pearle, but by disdain thrown into vineger, it bursteth rather in peeces, then it wil bow to any softnes. It is a salt fish that water canot make fresh, sweet honny that is not made bitter with gall, harde golde that is not to bee mollified with fire, & a miraculous friend that is not made an enimy with contempt. But give me leave to examine the causes of thy discourse to the quick, & omitting the circumstance, I wil to the substance. The onely thing thou layest to my charge is love, & that is a good ornament, the reasons to prove it, is my praising of women, but that is no good argument. Am I in love Philautus? with whom it shold be thou canst not conjecture, & that it shold not be with thee, thou gives occasion. Priamus began to be jealous of Hecuba, when he knew none did love hir, but when he loved many,m & thou of me, when thou art assured I love none, but thou thy self every one. But whether I love or no, I cannot live in quiet, unlesse I be fit for thy diet, wherin thou dost imitate Scyron & Procrustes, who framing a bed of brase to their own bignes, cased it to be placed as a lodging for all passengers, insomuch that none could travel that way, but he was enforced to take measure of their sheets: if he wer to long for the bed, they cut off his legs for catching cold, it was no place for a longis, if to short they racked him at length, it was no pallet for a dwarfe: & certes Philautus, they are no lesse to be discommended for their crueltie, then thou for thy folly. For in like manner has thou built a bed in thine owne brains, wherin every one must be of thy length, if he love you cuttest him shorter, either with some od devise, or grave counsel, swearing (rather then thou woldst not be beleved) that Protogenes portraid Venus with a sponge sprinkled with sweete water, but if once she wrong it, it would drop bloud: that hir Ivorie Combe would at the first tickle the haires, but at the last turne all the haires unto Adders: so that nothing is more hatefull then Love. If he love not, then stretchest out lyke a Wyre-drawer, making a wire as long as thy finger, longer then thine arme, pullyng on with the pincers with the shoemaker a lyttle shoe on a great foote, till thou crack thy credite, as he doth his stitches, alleadging that Love followeth a good wit, as the shadowe doth the body, and as requisite for a Gentleman, as steele in a weapon.

A wit sayest thou with-out love, is lyke an Egge with-out salte, and a Courtier voyde of affection, like salt without savour. Then as one pleasing thy selfe in thine owne humour, or playing with others for thine owne pleasure, thou rollest all thy wits to sifte Love from Lust, as the Baker doth the branne from his flower, bringing in Venus with a Torteyse under hir foote, as slowe to harmes: hir Chariot drawen with white Swannes, as the cognisance of Vesta, hir birds to be Pigeons, noting pietie: with as many inventions to make Venus currant, as the Ladies use slights in Italy to make themselves counterfaite. Thus with the Aegyptian thou playest fast or loose, so that there is nothing more certeine, then that thou wilt love, and nothing more uncerteine then when, tourning at one time thy tayle to the winde, with the Hedge-hogge, & thy nose in the winde, with the Weather-cocke, in one gale both hoysing sayle & casting Anker, with one breath, making an Alarme and a Parly, discharging in the same instaunt, both a Bullet and a false fire. Thou hast rackte me, and curtalde me, sometimes I was too long, sometimes to shorte, now to bigge, then too lyttle, so that I must needes thinke thy bed monstrous, or my body, eyther thy brains out of temper, or my wits out of tune: insomuch as I can lyken thy head to Mercuris pipe, who with one stop caused Argus to stare and winke. If this fault bee in thy nature, counsel canne do little good, if in thy disease, phisicke can do lesse: for nature will have hir course, so that perswasions are needelesse, and such a mallady in the Marrowe, will never out of the bones, so that medicines are bootelesse.

Thou sayest that all this is for love, and that I beeing thy friend, thou art loth to wink at my folly: truly I say with Tully, with faire wordes thou shalt yet perswade me: for experience teacheth me, that straight trees have crooked rootes, smooth baites sharpe hookes, that the fayrer the stone is in the Toades head, the more pestilent the poyson is in hir bowelles, that talk the more it is seasoned with fine phrases, the lesse it savoreth of true meaning. It is a mad Hare that wil be caught with a Taber, and a foolish bird that staieth the laying salt on hir taile, and a blinde Goose that commeth to the Foxes sermon, Euphues is not entangled with Philautus charmes. If all were in jest, it was to broad weighing the place, if in earnest to bad, considering the person, if to try thy wit, it was folly to bee so hot, if thy friendship, mallice to be so hastie: Hast thou not read since thy comming into England a pretie discourse of one Phialo, concerning the rebuking of a friende? Whose reasons although they wer but few, yet were they sufficient, and if thou desire more, I coulde rehearse infinite. But thou art like the Epicure, whose bellye is sooner filled then his eye: For he coveteth to have twentie dishes at his table, when hee can-not disgest one in his stomacke, and thou desirest manye reasons to bee brought, when one might serve thy turne, thinking it no Rayne-bowe that hath not al coulours, nor auncient armoury, that are not quartered with sundry cotes, nor perfect rules that have not thousand reasons, and of al the reasons would thou wouldest follow but one, not to checke thy friende to a braverie, knowing that rebuckes ought not to weigh a graine more of salt then suger: but to be so tempered, as like pepper they might be hoat in the mouth, but like treacle wholsom at the heart: so shal they at the first make one blushe if he were pale, and well considered better, if he were not past grace.

If a friende offend he is to be whipped with a good Nurses rodde, who when hir childe will not be still, giveth it together both the twigge and the teate, and bringeth it a sleepe when it is waywarde, aswell with rocking it as rating it.

The admonition of a true friend should be like the practise of a wise Phisition, who wrappeth his sharpe pils in fine sugar, or the cunning Chirurgian, who launcing the wound with an yron, immediatly applyeth to it soft lint, or as mothers deale with their children for worms, who put their bitter seedes into sweete reasons, if this order had beene observed in thy discourse, that enterlasing sowre tauntes with sugred counsell, bearing aswell a gentle raine, as using a hard snaffle, thou mightest have done more with the whiske of a wand, then now thou canst with the prick of the spur, and avoyded that which now thou maist not, extream unkindnesse. But thou art like that kinde Judge, which Propertius noteth, who condempning his friend, caused him for the more ease to be hanged with a silken twist. And thou like a friend cuttest my throat with a Rasor, not with a hatchet for my more honor. But why should I set downe the office of a friend, when thou like our Athenians, knowest what thou shouldest doe, but like them, never dost it. Thou saiest I eat mine own words in praysing women, no Philautus I was never eyther so wicked, or so witlesse, to recant truethes, or mistake coulours. But this I say, that the Ladyes in England as farre excell all other countryes in vertue, as Venus doth all other woemen in beautie. I flatter not those of whome I hope to reape benefit, neyther yet so prayse them, but that I think them women: ther is no sword made of steele but hath yron, no fire made of wood but hath smoake, no wine made of grapes but hath leese, no woeman created of flesh but hath faultes: And if I love them Philautus, they deserve it.

But it grieveth not thee Philautus that they be fayre, but that they are chaste, neyther dost thou like mee the worse for commending theyr beautie, but thinkest they will not love thee well, bicause so vertuous, where-in thou followest those, who better esteeme the sight of the Rose, then the savour, preferring fayre weedes before good hearbes, chusing rather to weare a painted flower in their bosomes, then to have a wholsome roote in their broathes, wich resembleth the fashion of your Maydens in Italy, who buy that for the best cloth that wil weare whitest, not that wil last longest. There is no more praise to be given to a faire face then to a false glasse, for as the one flattereth us with a vaine shaddow to make us proud in our own conceits, so the other feedeth us with an idle hope to make us peevish in our owne contemplations.

Chirugians affyrme, that a white vaine beeing striken, if at the fyrst there springe out bloud, it argueth a good constitution of bodye, and I thinke if a fayre woeman having heard the suite of a Lover, if she blush at the first brunt, and shew hir bloud in hir face, sheweth a well dysposed minde: so as vertuous woemenne I confesse are for to bee chosen by the face, not when they blushe for the shame of some sinne committed, but for feare she should committe any, al women shal be as Caesar would have his wife, not onelye free from sinne, but from suspition: If such be in the Englyshe courte, if I should not prayse them, thou wouldest saye I care not for their vertue, and now I give them their commendation, thou swearest I love them for their beautie: So that it is o lesse labour to please thy mind, then a sick mans mouth, who can realish nothing by the taste, not that the fault is in the meat, but in his malady, nor thou like of any thing in thy bed, not that ther is any disorder in my sayings, but in thy sences. Thou dost last of all objecte that which silence might well resolve, that I am fallen from Prophets to Poets, and returned againe with the dog to my vomit, which GOD knoweth is as farre from trueth as I knowe thou art from wisdome.

What have I done Philautus, since my going from Naples to Athens, speake no more then the trueth, utter no lesse, flatter me not to make me better then I am, be-lye me not to make me worse, forge nothing of malice, conceale nothing for love: did I ever use any unseemlye talke to corrupt youth? tell me where: did I ever deceive those that put me in trust? tell mee whome: have I committed any fact worthy eyther of death or defame? thou canst not recken what. Have I abused my selfe towardes my superiors, equalles, or inferiors? I thinke thou canst not devise when: But as there is no wooll so white but the Diar can make blacke, no Apple so sweete but a cunning grafter can chaunge into a Crabbe: so is there no man so voyde of cryme that a spightful tongue cannot make him to be thought a caitife, yet commonly it falleth out so well that the cloth weareth the better being dyed, and the Apple eateth pleasaunter beeing grafted, and the innocentte is more esteemed, and thriveth sooner being envied for vertue, and belyed for malice. For as he that stroke Jason on the stomacke, thinking to kill him, brake his impostume with the blow, wherby he cured him: so oftentimes it fareth with those that deale malitiously, who in steed of a sword apply a salve, and thinking to be ones Priest, they become his Phisition. But as the Traytour that clyppeth the coyne of his Prince, maketh it lyghter to be wayed, not worse to be touched: so he that by sinister reports, seemeth to pare the credite of his friend, may make him lighter among the common sort, who by weight often-times are deceived with counterfaites, but nothing empayreth his good name with the wise, who trye all gold by the touch-stone.

A Straunger comming into the Capital of Rome seeing all the Gods to be engraven, some in one stone, some in an other, at the lat he perceived Vulcan, to bee wrought in Ivory, Venus to be carved in Jeate, which long time beholding with great delyght, at the last he burst out in these words, neither can this white Ivory Vulcan, make thee a Smith, neither this faire woman Jeat, make thee a faire stone. Where-by ne noted that no cunning could alter the ature of the one, nor no Nature transforme the colour of the other. In lyke manner say I Philautus, although thou have shadowed my guiltlesse life, with a defamed counterfait, yet shall not thy black Vulcan make either thy accusations of corce, or my innocencie faultie, neither shal the white Venus which thou has portrayed upon the blacke Jeat of thy malyce, make thy conditions amiable, for Vulcan cannot make Ivory blacke, nor Venus chaunge the coulour of Jeat, the one having received such course by Nature, the other such force by Vertue.

What cause have I given thee to suspect me, and what occasion hast thou not offered me to detest thee? I was never wise inough to give thee counsaile, yet ever willing to wish thee well, my wealth small to do thee good, yet ready to doe my best: Insomuch as thou couldest never accuse me of any discurtesie, unlesse it were in being more carefull of thee, then of my selfe. But as all floures that are in one Nosegay, are not of one nature, nor all Rings that are worne uppon one hande, are not of one fashion: so all friendes that associate at bedde and at boord, are not one of disposition. Scipio must have a noble minde, Laelius an humble spirite: Titus must lust after Sempronia, Gisippus must leave hir: Damon must goe take order for his lands, Pithias must tarry behinde, as a Pledge for his life: Philautus must doe what he will, Euphues not what he should. But it may be that as the sight of divers colours, make divers beasts madde: so my presence doth drive thee into this melancholy. And seeing it is so, I will absent my selfe, hier an other lodging in London, and for a time give my self to my booke, for I have learned this by experience, though I be young, that Bavins are known by their bands, Lyons by their clawes, Cockes by their combes, envious mindes by their manners. Hate thee I will not, and trust thee I may not: Thou knowest what a friende shoulde be, but thou wilt never live to trye what a friende is. Fare-well Philautus, I wil not stay to heare thee replye, but leave thee to thy lyst, Euphues carieth this Posie written in his hands, and engraven in his heart. A faithfull friend, is a wilfull foole. And so I taking leave, till I heare thee better minded, England shall be my abode for a season, depart when thou wilt, and againe fare-well.

Euphues in a great rage departed, not suffering Philautus to aunswere one word, who stood in a maze, after the speache of Euphues, but taking courage by love, went immediatelye to the place where Camilla was dauncing, and ther will I leave him, in a thousand thoughts, hammering in his head, and Euphues seeking a new chamber, which by good friends he quickly got, and there fell to his Pater noster, wher a while I will not trouble him in his prayers.

NOw you shall understand that Philautus furthered as well by the opportunitie of the time, as the requests of certeine Gentlemen his friends, was entreated to make one in a Masque, which Philautus perceiving to be at the Gentlemans house where Camilla laye, assented as willyngly to goe, as he desired to speede, and all things beeing in a readinesse, they went with speede: where beeing welcommed, they daunced, Philautus taking Camilla by the hande, and as time served, began to boord hir in this manner.

IT hath ben a custome faire Lady, how commendable I wil not dispute, how common you know, that Masquers do therfore cover their faces that they may open their affections, & under the colour of a daunce, discover their whole desires: the benefit of which priviledge, I wil not use except you graunt it, neither can you refuse, except you break it. I meane only with questions to trye your wit, which shall neither touch your honour to aunswere, not my honestie to aske.

Camilla tooke him up short, as one not to seeke how to reply, in this manner.

GEntleman, if you be lesse, you are too bolde, if so, too broade, in clayming a custome, where there is no prescription. I knowe not your name, bicause you feare to utter it, neither doe I desire it, and you seeme to be ashamed of your face, els would you not hide it, neither doe I long to see it: but as for any custome, I was never so superstitious, that either I thought it treason to breake them, or reason to keepe them.

As for the proving of my witte, I had rather you should accompt me a foole by silence, then wise by aunswering? For such questions in these assemblyes, move suspition where there is no cause, and therefore are not to be resolved least there be cause.

Philautus, who ever as yet but played with the bait, was not stroke with the hooke, and no lesse delyghted to heare hir speake, then desirous to obtaine his suite, trayned hir by the bloud in this sort.

IF the patience of men were not greater then the perversenesse of women, I should then fall from a question to a quarrell, for that I perceive you draw the counterfaite of that I would say, by the conceit of that you thinke others have sayd: but whatsoever the colour be, the picture is as it pleaseth the Paynter: and whatsoever were pretended, the minde is as the hart doth intend. A cunning Archer is not knowen by his arrow but by his ayme: neither a friendly affection by the tongue, but by the faith. Which if it be so, me thinketh common courtesie should allow that, which you seeke to cut off by courtly coynesse, as one either too young to understand, or obstinate to overthwart, your yeares shall excuse the one, and my humour pardon the other.

And yet Lady I am not of that faint minde, that though I winke with a flash of lyghtening, I dare not open mine eyes againe, or having once suffered a repulse, I should not dare to make fresh assault, he that striketh sayle in a storme, hoyseth them higher in a calm, which maketh me the bolder to utter that, which you disdaine to heare, but as the Dove seemeth angry, as though she had a gall, yet yeeldeth at the last to delight: so Ladyes pretende a great skyrmishe at the first, yet are boorded willinglye at the last.

I meane therefore to tell you this which is all, that I love you: And so wringing hir by the hand, he ended: she beginning as followeth.

GEntleman (I follow my first tearme) which sheweth rather my modestie then your desart, seeing you resemble those which having once wet their feete, care not how deepe they wade, or those that breaking the yce, weigh not how farre they slippe, thinking it lawfull, if one suffer you to treade awry, no shame to goe slipshad: if I should say nothing then would you vaunt that I am wonne: for that they that are silent seeme to consent, if any thing, then would you boast that I would be woed, for that castles that come to parlue, and woemen that delight in courting, are willing to yeelde: So that I must eyther heare those thinges which I would not, & seeme to be taught by none, or to holde you talke, which I should not, and runne into the suspition of others. But certainlye if you knewe how much your talke displeaseth me, and how litle it should profit you, you would think the time as vainely lost in beginning your talke, as I accompt over long, untill you ende it.

If you build upon custome that Maskers have libertie to speake what they should not, you shall know that woemen have reason to make them heare what they would not, and though you can utter by your vizarde what-soever it be with-out blushing, yet cannot I hear it without shame. But I never looked for a better tale of so ill a face, you say a bad coulour maye make a good countenaunce, but he that conferreth your disordered discourse, with your deformed attyre, may rightly saye, that he never sawe so crabbed a visage, nor hearde so crooked a vaine. An archer saye you is to be knowne by his ayme, not by his arrowe: but your ayme is so ill, that if you knewe how farre wide from the white your shaft sticketh, you would here-after rather break your bow, then bend it. If I be too young to understand your destinies, it is a signe I can-not like, if too obstinate, it is a token I will not: therefore for you to bee displeased, it eyther needeth not, or booteth not. Yet goe you farther, thinking to make a great vertue of your little valure, seeing that lightning may cause you wincke, but it shall not stricke you blinde, that a storme may make you strycke sayle, but never cut the mast, that a hotte skyrmishe may cause you to retyre, but never to runne away: what your cunning is, I knowe not, and likely it is your courage is great, yet have I heard, that he that hath escaped burning with lightning, hath beene spoyled with thunder, and one that often hath wished drowning hath beene hanged once for al, and he that shrinketh from a bullette in the maine battaile, hath beene striken with a bil in the rerewarde. You fall from one thing to an other, using no decorum, except this, that you study to have your discourse as farre voyde of sence, as your face is of favor, to the ende, that your disfigured countenaunce might supplye the disorder of your ill couched sentences, amonge the which you bring in a Dove with-out a gall, as farre from the matter you speake off, as you are from the mastrye you would have, who although she can-not be angry with you in that she hath no gall, yet can she laugh at you for thht she hath a spleene.

I will ende where you beganne, hoping you will beginne where I end, you let fall your question which I looked for, and pickt a quarrell which I thought not of, and that is love: but let hir that is disposed to aunswere your quarrell, be curious to demaund your question.

And this Gentle-manne I desire you, all questions and other quarrelles set aparte, you thinke me as a friende, so farre forth as I can graunt with modestie, or you require with good manners, and as a friende, I wishe you, that you blowe no more this fire of love, which will waste you before it warme mee, and make a colde in you, before it can kindle in mee: If you think otherwise I may aswell use a shift to drive you off, as you did a shewe to drawe me on. I have aunswered your custome, least you should argue me of coynes, no otherwise then I might mine honour saved, and your name unknowen.

By this time entered an other Masque, but almost after the same manner, and onely for Camillas love, which Philautus quickly espyed, and seeing his Camilla to be courted with so gallant a youth, departed: yet with-in a corner, to the ende he might decipher the Gentle-man whom he found to be one of the bravest youthes in all England, called Surius, then wounded with griefe, hee sounded with weaknesse, and going to his chamber beganne a freshe to recount his miseries in this sorte.

Ah myserable and accursed Philautus, the verye monster of Nature and spectacle of shame, if thou live thou shalt be despysed, if thou dye not myssed, if woe poynted at, if win lothed, if loose laughed at, bred either to live in love and be forsaken, or die with love and be forgotten.

Ah Camilla would eyther I had bene born without eyes not to see thy beautie, or with-out eares not to heare thy wit, the one hath enflamed me with the desire of Venus, the other with the giftes of Pallas, both with the fire of love: Love, yea love Philautus, then the which nothing canne happen unto man more miserable.

I perceive now that the Chariotte of the Sunne is for Phoebus, not for Phaeton, that Bucephalus will stoupe to none but Alexander, that none can sounde Mercurius pipe but Orpheus, that none shall win Camillas liking but Surius, a Gentlemanne, I confesse of greater byrth then I, and yet I dare say not of better faith. It is he Philautus that will fleete all the fat from thy bread, in-somuch as she will disdaine to looke upon thee, if she but once thinke uppon him. It is he Philautus that hath wit to trye hir, wealth to allure hir, personage to entice hir, and all thinges that eyther Nature or Fortune can give to winne hir.

For as the Phrigian Harmonie being moved to the Calenes maketh a great noyse, but being moved to Apollo it is still and quiet: so the love of Camilla desired of mee, mooveth I knowe not how manye discordes, but proved of Surius, it is calme, and consenteth.

It is not the sweete flower that Ladyes desyre, but the fayre, whiche maketh them weare that in theyr heades, wrought forth with the needle, not brought forth by Nature: And in the lyke maner they accompte of that love, whiche arte canne coulour, not that the heart dooth confesse, where-in they imitate the Maydens (as Euphues often hath told mee) of Athens, who tooke more delight to see a freshe and fine coulour, then to tast a sweete and wholsome sirrop.

I but howe knowest thou that Surius fayth is not as great as thine, when thou art assured thy vertue is no lesse then his? He is wise, and that thou seest: valyaunt, and that thou fearest: rich, and that thou lackest: fit to please hir, and displace thee: and without spite be it sayd, worthye to doe the one, and willing to attempt the other.

Ah Camilla, Camilla, I know not whether I should more commend thy beautie or thy wit, neither can I tell whether thy lookes have wounded me more or thy words, for they both have wrought such an alteration in my spirites, that seeing thee silent, thy comelynesse maketh me in a maze, and hearing thee speaking, thy wisedome maketh me starke madde.

I but things above thy height, are to be looked at, not reached at. I but if now I should ende, I had ben better never to have begon. I but time must weare away love, I but time may winne it. Hard stones are pearced with soft droppes, great Oakes hewen downe with many blowes, the stoniest heart mollyfied by continuall perswasions, or true perseveraunce.

If deserts can nothing prevaile, I will practise deceipts, and what faith cannot doe, conjuring shall. What saist thou Philautus, canst thou imagine so great mischiefe against hir thou lovest? Knowest thou not, that Fish caught with medicines, & women gotten with witchcraft are never wholesom? No, no, the Foxes wiles shal never enter into the Lyons head, nor Medeas charmes into Philautus heart. I, but I have hard that extremities are to be used, where the meane will not serve, & that as in love ther is no measure of griefe, so there should be no ende of guile, of two mischiefes the least is to be chosen, and therefore I thinke it better to poyson hir with the sweet bait of love, then to spoile my selfe with the bitter sting of death.

If she be obstinate, why should not I be desperate? If she be voyd of pitie, why shoulde I not be voyde of pietie? In the ruling of Empires there is required as great policie as prowes: in governing an Estate, close crueltie doth more good then open clemencie, for the obteining of a Kingdome, as well mischiefe as mercy, is to be practised. And then in the winning of my Love, the very Image of beautie, courtesie and wit, shall I leave any thing unsought, unattempted, undone? He that desireth riches, must stretche the string that will not reach, and practise all kindes of getting. He that coveteth honour, and can-not clymbe by the ladder, must use al colours of lustinesse: He that thirsteth for Wine, must not care how he get it, but wher he maye get it, nor he that is in love, be curious, what meanes he ought to use but redy to attempt any: For slender affection do I think that, which either the feare of Law, or care of Religion may diminish.

Fye Philautus, thine owne wordes condemne thee of wickednesse: tush the passions I sustaine, are neither to be quieted with counsaile, nor eased by reason: therefore I am fully resolved, either by Arte to winne hir love, or by despayre to loose mine owne lyfe.

I have hearde heere in London of an Italian, cunning in Mathematicke named Psellus, of whome in Italy I have hearde in suche cases canne doe much by Magicke, and will doe all thinges for money, him will I assaye, as well with golde as other good tournes, and I thinke there is nothing that can be wrought, but shal be wrought for gylt, or good wil, or both.

And in this rage, as one forgetting where hee was, and whome hee loved, hee went immediately to seeke Phisicke for that, which onely was to bee found by Fortune.

HEre Gentlemen you maye see, into what open sinnes the heate of Love driveth man, especially where one loving is in dispayre, either of his owne imperfection or his Ladyes vertues, to bee beloved againe, which causeth man to attempt those thinges, that are contrarie to his owne mind, to Religion, to honestie.

What greater villany can there be devised, then to enquire of Sorcerers, South-sayers, Conjurers, or learned Clearkes for the enjoying of love? But I will not refell that heere, which shall bee confuted heere-after.

Philautus hath soone founde this Gentleman, who conducting him into his studie, and demaunding of him the cause of his comming, Philautus beginneth in this manner, as one past shame to unfold his sute.

MAster Psellus (and Countrey-man) I neyther doubt of your cunning to satisfie my request, nor of your wisedome to conceale it, for were either of them wanting in you, it might tourne mee to trouble, and your selfe to shame.

I have hearde of your learning to be great in Magicke, and somewhat in Phisicke, your experience in both to be exquisit, which caused me to seeke to you for a remedie of a certeine griefe, which by your meanes maye be eased, or els no wayes cured.

And to the ende such cures may be wrought, God hath stirred up in all times Clearkes of greate vertue, and in these our dayes men of no small credite, among the which, I have hearde no one, more commended then you, which althoughe happelye your modestye will denye, (for that the greatest Clearkes doe commonlye dissemble their knowledge) or your precisenesse not graunt it, for that cunning men are often daungerous, yet the worlde doth well know it, divers have tryed it, and I must needes beleeve it.

Psellus not suffering him to raunge, yet desirous to know his arrant, aunswered him thus.

GEntleman and countryman as you say, and I beleeve, but of that heereafter: if you have so great confidence in my cunning as you protest, it may bee your strong imagination shall worke that in you, which my Art cannot, for it is a principle among us, that a vehement thought is more avaylable, then the vertue of our figures, formes, or characters. As for keeping your counsayle, in things honest, it is no matter, & in causes unlawful, I will not meddle. And yet if it threaten no man harme, and maye doe you good, you shall finde my secrecie to be great, though my science be smal, and therefore say on.

THere is not farre hence a Gentlewoman whom I have long time loved, of honest parents, great vertue, and singular beautie, such a one, as neither by Art I can describe, nor by service deserve: And yet bicause I have heard many say, that wher cunning must worke, the whole body must be coloured, this is hir shape.

She is a Virgin of the age of eighteene yeares, of stature neither too high nor too low, and such was Juno: hir haire blacke, yet comely, and such had Laeda: hir eyes hasill, yet bright, and such were the lyghtes of Venus.

And although my skill in Phisognomie be small, yet in my judgement she was borne under Venus, hir forhead, nose, lyppes, and chinne, fore-shewing (as by such rules we gesse) both a desire to lyve, and a good successe in love. In complection of pure sanguine, in condition a right Sainte, seldome given to play, often to prayer, the first letter of whose name (for that also is necessary) is Camilla.

THis Lady I have served long, and often sued unto, in-somuch that I have melted like wax against the fire, and yet lived in the flame with the flye Pyrausta. O Psellus the tormentes sustained by hir presence, the griefes endured by hir absence, the pyning thoughtes in the daye, the pinching dreames in the night, the dying life, the living death, the jelousie at all times, and the dispaire at this instant, can neyther be uttered of me with-out fludes of teares, nor heard of thee without griefe.

No Psellus not the tortures of hell are eyther to be compared, or spoken of in the respect of my tormentes: for what they all had severally, all that and more do I feele joyntly: In-somuch that with Sysiphus I rolle the stone even to the toppe of the Hill, when it tumbleth both it selfe and me into the bottome of hell: yet never ceasing I attempt to renewe my labour, which was begunne in death, and can-not ende in life.

What dryer thirst could Tantalus endure then I, who have almost everye houre the drinke I dare not taste, and the meate I can-not? In-somuch that I am torne upon the wheele with Ixion, my lyver gnawne of the Vultyures and Harpies: yea my soule troubled even with the unspeakable paines of Megara, Tisiphone, Alecto: whiche secrete sorrowes although it were more meete to enclose them in a Laborinth, then to sette them on a Hill: Yet where the minde is past hope, the face is past shame.

It fareth with me Psellus as with the Austrich, who pricketh none but hir selfe, which causeth hir to runne when she would rest; or as it doth with the Pelicane, who stricketh bloud out of hir owne bodye to do others good: or with the Wood Culver, who plucketh of hir fethers in winter to keepe others from colde: or as the Storke, who when she is least able, carrieth the greatest burthen. So I practise all thinges that may hurt mee to do hir good that never regardeth my paynes, so farre is shee from rewarding them.

For as it is impossible for the best Adamant to drawe yron unto it, if the Diamond be neere it, so is it not to bee looked for, that I with all my service, suite, desartes, and what els so-ever that may draw a woemanne, should winne Camilla, as longe as Surius, a precious stone in hir eyes, and an eye sore in mine, bee present, who loveth hir I knowe too wel, and shee him I feare me, better, which love wil breed betweene us such a deadly hatred, that beeing dead, our bloud cannot bee mingled together like Florus and Aegithus, and beeing burnt, the flames shall parte like Polinices and Eteocles, such a mortall enmitie is kindled, that nothing can quench it but death: and yet death shall not ende it.

What counsell canne you give me in this case? what comfort? what hope?

When Acontius coulde not perswade Cydippe to love, he practised fraude. When Tarquinius coulde not winne Lucretia by prayer, he used force.

When the Gods coulde not obtaine their desires by suite, they turned them-selves into newe shapes, leaving nothing undonne, for feare they should bee undonne.

The desease of love Psellus, is impatient, the desire extreame, whose assaultes neyther the wise can resist by pollicie, nor the valiaunt by strength.

Julius Caesar a noble Conquerour in warre, a grave Counsaylour in peace, after he had subdued Fraunce, Germanie, Britaine, Spaine, Italy, Thesalay, Aegipt, yea entered with no lesse puissaunce then good fortune into Armenia, into Pontus, into Africa, yeelded in his chiefest victories to love Psellus, as a thing fit for Caesar, who conquered all thinges saving him-selfe, and a deeper wound did the small Arrowe of Cupid make, then all the speares of his enemies.

Hannibal not lesse valiaunt in armes, nor more fortunate in love, having spoyled Ticinum, Trebia, Trasmena and Cannas, submitted him-selfe in Apulia to the love of a woman, whose hate was a terrour to all men, and became so bewitched, that neyther the feare of death, nor the desire of glorye coulde remove him from the lappe of his lover.

I omitte Hercules, who was constrained to use a distaffe for the desire of his love. Leander, who ventured to crosse the Seaes for Hero, Iphis that hanged him-selfe, Pyramus that killed him-selfe, and infinite more, which coulde not resist the hot skyrmishes of affection.

And so farre hath this humour crept into the minde, that Biblis loved hir Brother, Myrrha hir Father, Canace hir nephew: In-somuch as ther is no reason to be given for so straung a griefe, nor no remedie so unlawefull, but is to bee sought for so monstrous a desease. My desease is straung, I my selfe a straunger, and my suite no lesse straunge then my name, yet least I be tedious in a thing that requireth haste, give eare to my tale.

I have hearde often-tymes that in Love there are three thinges for to bee used, if time serve, violence, if wealth be great, golde, if necessitie compel, sorcerie.

But of these three but one can stand me in steede, the last, but not the least, whiche is able to worke the mindes of all woemen like wax, when the other can scarse wind them like with. Medicines ther are that can bring it to passe, and men ther are that have, some by potions, some by verses, some by dreames, all by deceite, the ensamples were tedious to recite, and you knowe them, the meanes I come to learne, and you can give them, which is the onely cause of my comming, and may be the occasion of my pleasure, and certainlye the waye both for your prayse and profit.

Whether it be an enchaunted leafe, a verse of Pythia, a figure of Amphion, a Charecter of Osthanes, an Image of Venus, or a braunch of Sybilla, it skilleth not.

Let it be eyther the seedes of Medea, or the bloud of Phillis, let it come by Oracle of Apollo, or by Prophecie, of Tyresias, eyther by the entrayles of a Goat, or what els soever I care not, or by all these in one, to make sure incantation and spare not.

If I winne my love, you shall not loose your labour, and whether it redound or no to my greater perill, I will not yet forget your paines.

Let this potion be of such force, that she may doat in hir desire, and I delight in hir distresse.

And if in this case you eyther reveale my suite or denye it, you shall soone perceyve that Philautus will dye as desperatelye in one minute, as he hath lived this three moneths carefully, and this your studie shall be my grave, if by your studye you ease not my griefe.

When he had thus ended, he looked so sternly upon Psellus, that he wished him farder off, yet taking him by the hande, and walking into his chamber, this good man began thus to aunswere him.

GEntleman, if the inward spirite be aunswerable to the outward speach, or the thoughtes of your heart agreeable to the words of your mouth, you shal breede to your selfe great discredite, and to me no small disquyet. Doe you thinke Gentleman that the minde being created of God, can be ruled by man, or that anye one can move the heart, but he that made the heart? But such hath bene the supersitition of olde women, & such the folly of young men, that there could be nothing so vayne but the one woulde invent, nor anye thing so sencelesse but the other would beleeve: which then brought youth into a fooles Paradise, & hath now cast age into an open mockage.

What the force of love is, I have knowen, what the effects have bene I have heard, yet could I never learne that ever love could be wonne, by the vertues of hearbes, stones or words. And though many there have bene so wicked to seeke such meanes, yet was there never any so unhappy to finde them.

Parrhasius painting Hopplitides, could neither make him that ranne to sweate, nor the other that put off his armour to breathe, adding this as it were for a note, No further then colours: meaning that to give lyfe was not in his Pencill, but in the Gods.

And the like may be said of us that give our mindes to know the course of the Starres, the Plannets, the whole Globe of heaven, the Simples, the Compounds, the bowels of the Earth, that something we may gesse by the out-ward shape, some-thing by the nativitie: but to wrest the will of man, or to wreath his heart to our humours, it is not in the compasse of Arte, but in the power of the most highest.

But for bicause there have bene manye with-out doubt, that have given credit to the vayne illusions of Witches, or the fonde inventions of idle persons, I will set downe such reasons as I have heard, and you wil laugh at, so I hope, I shal both satisfie your minde and make you a lyttle merry, for me thinketh there is nothing that can more delyght, then to heare the things which have no weight, to be thought to have wrought wonders.

If you take Pepper, the seede of a Nettle, and a pretie quantitie of Pyretum, beaten or pounded altogether, and put into Wine of two yeares olde, whensoever you drinke to Camilla, if she love you not, you loose your labour. The cost is small, but if your beliefe be constant, you winne the goale, for the Receipt standeth in a strong conceipt.

Egges and Honnye, blended with the Nuts of a Pine tree, & laid to your left side, is of as great force when you looke uppon Camilla to bewitch the minde, as the Quintessence of Stocke-fish, is to nourish the body.

An hearbe there is, called Anacamsoritis, a strange name and doubtlesse of a straunge nature, for whosoever toucheth it, falleth in love, with the person shee next seeth. It groweth not in England, but heere you shal have that which is not halfe so good, that will do as much good, and yet truly no more.

The Hearbe Carisium, moystened with the bloude of a Lysarde, and hanged about your necke, will cause Camilla (for hir you love best) to dreame of your services, suites, desires, desertes, and whatsoever you would wish hir to thinke of you, but beeing wakened she shall not remember what shee dreamed off. And this Hearbe is to be founde in a Lake neere Boetia, of which water who so drinketh, shall bee caught in Love, but never finde the Hearbe: And if hee drincke not, the Hearbe is of no force.

There is in the Frogges side, a bone called Apocynon, and in the heade of a young Colte, a bounch named Hippomanes, both so effectuall, for the obteining of love, that who so getteth either of them, shall winne any that are willyng, but so injuriouslye both crafte and Nature dealt with young Gentlemen that seeke to gaine good will be these meanes, that the one is lycked off before it can be gotten, the other breaketh as soone as it is touched. And yet unlesse Hippomanes be lycked, it can-not worke, and except Apocynon be sound it is nothing worth.

I omit the Thistle Eryngium, the Hearbes Catanance and Pityusa, Juba his Charito blepharon, and Orpheus Staphilinus, all of such vertue in cases of love, that if Camilla shoulde but tast any one of them in hir mouthe, shee woulde never lette it goe downe hir throate, leaste shee shoulde bee poysoned, for well you knowe Gentleman, that Love is a Poyson, and therefore by Poyson it must be mayntayned.

But I will not forgette as it were the Methridate of the Magitians, the Beast Hiena, of whom there is no parte so small, or so vyle, but it serveth for their purpose: Insomuch that they accompt Hyena their God that can doe al, and their Divel that will doe all.

If you take seaven hayres of Hyenas lyppes, and carrye them sixe dayes in your teeth, or a peece of hir skinne nexte your bare hearte, or hir bellye girded to your left side, if Camilla suffer you not to obtaine your purpose, certeinely she can-not chuse, but thanke you for your paines.

And if you want medicines to winne women, I have yet more, the lungs of a Vultur, the ashes of Stellio, the left stone of a Cocke, the tongue of a Goose, the brayne of a Cat, the last haire of a Wolves taile. Thinges easie to be hadde, and commonlye practised, so that I would not have thee stande in doubte of thy love, when either a young Swallow famished, or the shrowding sheete of a deere friend, or a waxen Taper that burnt at his feete, or the enchaunted Needle that Medea hid in Jasons sleeve, are able not onely to make them desire love, but also dye for love.

How doe you now feele your selfe Philautus? If the least of these charmes be not sufficient for thee, all exorcismes and conjurations in the world will not serve thee.

You see Gentleman, into what blynde and grose errours in olde time we were ledde, thinking every olde wives tale to be a truth, and every merry word, a very witchcraft. When the Aegyptians fell from their God to their Priests of Memphis, and the Grecians, from their Morall questions, to their disputations of Pirrhus, and the Romaines from Religion, to policie: then began all superstition to breede, and all impietie to blome, and to be so great, they have both growen, that the one being then an Infant, is nowe an Elephant, and the other beeing then a Twigge, is now a Tree.

They invented as many Enchauntments for love, as they did for the Tooth-ach, but he that hath tryed both will say, that the best charme for a Toothe, is to pull it out, and the best remedie for Love, to weare it out.

If incantations, or potions, or amorous sayings could have prevailed, Circes would never have lost Ulysses, nor Phaedra Hippolitus, nor Phillis Demophoon.

If Conjurations, Characters, Circles, Figures, Fendes, or Furies might have wrought anye thing in love, Medea woulde not have suffered Jason to alter his minde.

If the sirropes of Macaonias, or the Verses of Aeus, or the Satyren of Dipsas were of force to move the minde, they all three would not have been martired with the torments of love.

No no Philautus thou maist well poyson Camilla with such drugges, but never perswade hir: For I confesse that such hearbes may alter the bodye from strength to weaknesse, but to thinke that they can move the minde from vertue to vice, from chastitie to lust, I am not so simple to beleeve, neither would I have thee so sinfull as to doubt it.

LUcilia ministring an amorous potion unto hir husband Lucretius, procured his death, whose life she onely desired.

Aristotle noteth one that beeing inflamed with the beautie of a faire Ladye, thought by medicine to procure his blisse, and wrought in the ende hir bane: So was Caligula slaine of Caesonia, and Lucius Lucullus of Calistine.

Perswade thy selfe Philautus that to use hearbes to winne love will weaken the body, and to think that hearbes can further, doth hurt the soule: for as great force have they in such cases, as noble men thought them to have in the olde time. Achimenis the hearbe was of such force, that it was thought if it wer thrown into the battaile, it would make all the soldiers tremble: but where was it when the Cimbri and Teutoni were exiled by warre, wher grewe Achimenis, one of whose leaves would have saved a thousand lives?

The Kinges of Persia gave their souldiers the plant Latace, which who so hadde, shoulde have plentye of meate and money, and men and al things: but why did the soldiers of Caesar endure such famine in Pharsalia, if one hearbe might have eased so many heartes.

Where is Balis that Juba so commendeth, the which coulde call the dead to lyfe, and yet hee himselfe dyed?

Democritus made a confection, that who-soever dranke it should have a faire, a fortunate, and a good childe. Why did not the Persian Kinges swill this Nectar, having such deformed and unhappy issue?

Cato was of that minde, that three enchaunted wordes coulde heale the eye-sight: and Varro, that a verse of Syblla could ease the goute, yet the one was fayne to use running water, which was but a colde medicine, the other patience, which was but a drye playster.

I would not have thee thinke Philautus that love is to bee obteined by such meanes, but onely by faith, vertue, and constancie.

Philip King of Macedon casting his eye uppon a fayre Virgin became enamored, which Olympias his wife perceiving, thought him to bee enchaunted, and caused one of hir servauntes to bring the Mayden unto hir, whome shee thought to thrust both to exile and shame: but viewing hir fayre face with-out blemyshe, hir chaste eyes with-out glauncinge, hir modest countenaunce, hir sober and woemanlye behaviour, finding also hir vertues to be no lesse then hir beautie, shee sayde, in thy selfe there are charmes, meaning that there was no greater enchauntment in love, then temperaunce, wisdome, beautie & chastitie. Fond therefore is the opinion of those that thinke the minde to be tyed to Magick, and the practise of those filthy, that seeke those meanes.

Love dwelleth in the minde, in the will, and in the hearts, which neyther Conjurer canne alter nor Phisicke. For as credible it is, that Cupid shooteth his Arowe and hytteth the heart, as that hearbes have the force to bewitch the heart, onelye this difference there is, that the one was a function of poetrie, the other of superstition. The will is placed in the soule, and who canne enter there, but hee that created the soule?

No no Gentle-man what-soever you have heard touching this, beleeve nothing: for they in myne opinion which imagine that the mynde is eyther by incantation to bee ruled, are as far from trueth, as the East from the West, and as neere impietie against God, as they are to shame among men, and so contrary is it to the profession of a Christian, as Paganisme.

Suffer not your selfe to bee lead with that vile conceypte, practise in your love all kinde of loyaltie. Be not mute, nor full of bable, bee sober, but avoyde sollennesse, use no kinde of ryotte eyther in banqueting, which procureth surfeites, nor in attyre, which hasteth beggerye.

If you thinke well of your witte, be alwayes pleasaunt, if yll bee often silent: in the one thy talke shal prove thee sharpe, in the other thy modestie, wise.

All fyshe are not caught with Flyes, all woemenne are not allured with personage. Frame letters, ditties, Musicke, and all meanes that honestie may allowe: For he wooeth well, that meaneth no yll, and hee speedeth sooner that speaketh what hee should, then he that uttereth what he will. Beleeve me Philautus I am nowe olde, yet have I in my head a love tooth, and in my minde there is nothing that more pearceth the heart of a beautifull Ladye, then writinge, where thou mayst so sette downe thy passions and hir perfection, as shee shall have cause to thinke well of thee, and better of hir selfe: but yet so warilye, as neyther thou seeme to prayse hir too much, or debase thy selfe too lowelye: for if thou flatter them with-out meane they loath it, and if thou make of thy selfe above reason they laugh at it, temper thy wordes so well, and place everye sentence so wiselye, as it maye bee harde for hir to judge, whether thy love be more faythfull, or hir beautie amiable.

Lions fawne when they are clawed, Tygers stoupe when they are tickled, Bucephalus lyeth downe when he is curryed, woemen yeelde when they are courted.

This is the poyson Philautus, the enchauntment, the potions that creepeth by sleight into the minde of a woeman, and catcheth hir by assuraunce, better then the fonde devices of olde dreames, as an Apple with an Ave Marie, or a hasill wand of a yeare olde crossed with six Charactors, or the picture of Venus in Virgin Wax, or the Image of Camilla uppon a Moulwarpes skinne.

It is not once mencioned in the Englishe Courte, nor so much as thought of in any ones conscience, that Love canne bee procured by such meanes, or that anye canne imagine suche myschiefe, and yet I feare mee it is too common in our Countrey, where-by they incurre hate of everye one, and love of none.

Touching my cunning in any vile devices of Magick it was never my studie, onely some delyght, I tooke in the Mathematicks which made me knowen of more then I would, and of more then thinke well of me, although I never did hurt any, nor hindred.

But be thou quiet Philautus, and use those meanes that may winne thy love, not those that may shorten hir lyfe, and if I can any wayes stande thee in steade, use me as thy poore friend and countrey-man, harme I will doe thee none, good I cannot. My acquaintance in Court is small, and therefore my dealyngs about the Courte shall be fewe, for I love to stande aloofe from Jove and lyghtning. Fire giveth lyght to things farre off, and burneth that which is next to it. The Court shineth to me that come not there, but singeth those that dwell there. Onely my counsayle use, that is in writing, and me thou shalt finde secret, wishing thee alwayes fortunate, and if thou make me pertaker of thy successe, it shall not tourne to thy griefe, but as much as in mee lyeth, I will further thee.

When he had finished his discourse, Philautus liked very well of it, and thus replyed.

WEll Psellus, thou hast wrought that in me, which thou wishest, for if the baites that are layde for beautie be so ridiculous, I thinke it of as great effect in love, to use a Plaister as a Potion.

I now uterly dissent from those that imagine Magicke to be the meanes, and content with thee, that thinkest letters to be, which I will use, and howe I speede I will tell thee, in the meane season pardon me, if I use no longer aunswere, for well you know, that he that hath the fit of an Ague uon him, hath no lust to talke but to tumble, and Love pinching me I have more desire to chew upon melancholy, then to dispute upon Magicke, but heereafter I will make repaire unto you, and what I now give you in thankes, I will then requite with amends.

Thus these two country-men parted with certeine Italian embracings and termes of courtesie, more then common. Philautus we shal finde in his lodging, Psellus we will leave in his studie, the one musing of his love, the other of his learning.

HEre Gentlewomen you may see, how justly men seeke to entrap you, when scornefuly you goe about to reject them, thinking it not unlawfull to use Arte, when they percive you obstinate, their dealings I wil not allow, neither can I excuse yours, and yet what should be the cause of both, I can gesse.

When Phydias first paynted, they used no colours, but blacke, white, redde, and yeolow: Zeuxis added greene, and every one invented a new shadowing. At the last it came to this passe, that he in painting deserved most prayse, that could sette downe most coulours: whereby ther was more contention kindeled about the colour, then the counterfaite, & greater emulation for varietie in shew, then workmanship in substaunce.

In the lyke manner hath it fallen out in Love, when Adam woed there was no pollycie, but playne dealyng, no colours but blacke and white. Affection was measured by faith, not by fancie: he was not curious, nor Eve cruell: he was not enamoured of hir beautie, nor she allured with his personage: and yet then was she the fairest woman in the worlde, and he the properest man. Since that time every Lover hath put too a lynke, and made of a Ring, a Chaine, and an odde Corner, and framed of a playne Alley, a crooked knot, and of Venus Temple, Dedalus Laborinth. One curleth his hayre, thinking love to be moved with faire lockes, an other layeth all his lyving uppon his backe, judging that women are wedded to braverie, some use discourses of Love, to kindle affection, some ditties to allure the minde, some letters to stirre the appetite, divers fighting to prove their manhoode, sundry sighing to shew their maladyes, many attempt with showes to please their Ladyes eyes, not few with Musicke to entice the eare: Insomuch that there is more strife now, who shal be the finest Lover, then who is the faithfullest.

This causeth you Gentlewomen, to picke out those that can court you, not those that love you, and hee is accompted the best in your conceipts, that useth most colours, not that sheweth greatest courtesie.

A playne tale of faith you laugh at, a picked discourse of fancie, you mervayle at, condempning the simplicitie of truth, and preferring the singularitie of deceipt, where-in you resemble those fishes that rather swallow a faire baite with a sharpe hooke, then a foule worme breeding in the mudde.

Heere it commeth that true lovers receiving a floute for their fayth, and a mocke for their good meaning, are enforced to seeke such meanes as might compell you, which you knowing impossible, maketh you the more disdainefull and them the more desperate. This then is my counsaille, that, you use your lovers lyke friends, and chuse them by their faith, not by the shew, but by the sound, neither by the waight, but by the touch, as you do the golde: so shall you be praysed, as much for vertue as beautie. But retourne we againe to Philautus who thus beganne to debate with himselfe.

What hast thou done Philautus, in seeking to wounde hir that thou desirest to winne?

With what face canst thou looke on hir, whome thou soughtest to loose? Fye, fye Philautus, thou bringest thy good name into question, and hir lyfe into hazard, having neither care of thine owne credite, nor hir honour. Is this the love thou pretendest which is worse then hate? Diddest not thou seeke to poyson hir, that never pinched thee?

But why doe I recount those thinges which are past, and repent, I am now to consider what I must doe, not what I would have done? Follyes past, shall be worne out with faith to come, and my death shal shew my desire. Write Philautus, what sayest thou? write, no, no thy rude stile wil bewray thy meane estate, and thy rash attempt, will purchase thine overthrow. Venus delyghteth to heare none but Mercury, Pallas wil be stolne of none but Ulysses, it must bee a smoothe tongue, and a sweete tale that can enchaunt Vesta.

Besides that I dare not trust a messenger to carye it, nor hir to reade it, least in shewing my letter shee disclose my love, & then shall I be pointed at of those that hate me, and pitied of those that lyke me, of hir scorned, of all talked off. No Philautus, be not thou the bye word of the common people, rather suffer death by silence, then derision by writing.

I, but it is better to reveale thy love, then conceale it, thou knowest not what bitter poyson lyeth in sweet words, remember Psellus, who by experience hath tryed, that in love one letter is of more force, then a thousand lookes. If they lyke writings they read them often, if dislyke them runne them over once, and this is certeine that she that readeth suche toyes, will also aunswere them. Onely this be secret in conveyaunce, which is the thing they chieflyest desire. Then write Philautus write, he that feareth every bush, must never goe a birding, he that casteth all doubts, shal never be resolved in any thing. And this assure thy selfe, that be thy letter never so rude and barbarous, shee will reade it, and be it never so loving, she will not shewe it, which were a thing contrary to hir honor, and the next way to call hir honestie into question. For thou hast heard, yea and thy selfe knowest, that Ladyes that vaunt of their Lovers, or shewe their letters, are accompted in Italy counterfait, and in England they are not thought currant.

Thus Philautus determined, hab, nab, to sende his letters, flattering him-selfe with the successe which he to him-selfe faigned: and after long musing, he thus beganne to frame the minister of his love.

To the fayrest, Camilla.

HArd is the choyce, fayre Ladye, when one is compelled eyther by silence to dye with griefe, or by writing to live with shame: But so sweete is the desire of lyfe, and so sharpe are the passions of love, that I am enforced to preferre an unseemely suite, before an untimely death. Loth I have bin to speake, and in dispayre to speede, the one proeeding of mine own cowardise, the other of thy crueltie. If thou enquire of my name, I am the same Philautus, which for thy sake of late came disguised in a Maske, pleading custome for a priviledge, and curtesie for a pardon. The same Philautus which then in secret tearmes coloured his love, and now with bitter teares bewrayes it. If thou nothing esteeme the brynish water that falleth from mine eyes, I would thou couldest see the warme bloud that droppeth from my heart. Oftentimes I have beene in thy company, where easily thou mightest have perceived my wanne cheekes, my holow eies, my scalding sighes, my trembling tongue, to forshew that then, which I confesse now. Then consider with thy self Camilla, the plight I am in by desire, and the perill I am like to fall into by deniall.

To recount the sorrowes I sustaine, or the service I have vowed, would rather breede in thee an admiration, then a belief: only this I adde for the time, which the ende shall trye for a trueth, that if thy aunswer be sharpe, my life wil be short, so farre love hath wrought in my pyning and almost consumed bodye, that thou onely mayst breath into me a new life, or bereave mee of the olde.

Thou art to weigh, not now long I have loved thee, but how faythfully, neyther to examine the worthynesse of my person, but the extremitie of my passions: so preferring my desarts before the length of time, and my desease, before the greatnes of my byrth, thou wilt eyther yeelde with equitie, or deny with reason, of both the which, although the greatest be on my side, yet the least shall not dislike me: for that I have alwayes founde in thee a minde neyther repugnaunt to right, nor void of reson. If thou wouldst but permit me to talke with thee, or by writing suffer me at large to discourse with thee, I doubt not but that, both the cause of my love wold be beleeved, & the extremitie rewarded, both proceeding of thy beautie and vertue, the one able to allure, the other ready to pittie. Thou must thinke that God hath not bestowed those rare giftes upon thee to kyll those that are caught, but to cure them. Those that are stunge with the Scorpion, are healed with the Scorpion, the fire that burneth, taketh away the heate of the burn, the Spider Phalangium that poysoneth, doth with hir skinne make a playster for poyson, and shall thy beautie which is of force to winne all with love, be of the crueltie to wound any with death? No Camilla, I take no lesse delight in thy fayre face, then pleasure in thy good conditions, assuring my selfe that for affection with-out lust, thou wilt not render malyce with-out cause.

I commit my care to thy consideration, expecting thy Letter eyther as a Cullise to preserve, or as a sworde to destroy, eyther as Antidotum, or as Aconitum: If thou delude mee, thou shalt not long triumphe over mee lyving, and small will thy glory be when I am dead. And I end.
Thine ever, though
he be never thine.

THis Letter beeing coyned, hee studyed how hee myght conveie it, knowing it to be no lesse perrilous to trust those hee knewe not in so weightye a case, then dyffycult for him-selfe to have opportunitie to delyver it in so suspitious a company: At the last taking out of his closette a fayre Pomegranet, and pullyng all the kernelles out of it, hee wrapped his Letter in it, closing the toppe of it finely, that it could not be perceyved, whether nature agayne hadde knitte of it of purpose to further him, or his arte hadde overcome natures cunning. This Pomegranate hee tooke, beeing him-selfe both messenger of his Letter, and the mayster, and insinuating him-selfe into the companie of the Gentlewoemen, amonge whom was also Camilla, hee was welcommed as well for that he had beene long tyme absent, as for that hee was at all tymes pleasaunt, much good communication there was touching manye matters, which heere to insert were neyther convenient, seeing it doth not concern the Hystorie, nor expedient, seeing it is nothing to the delyverie of Philautus Letter. But this it fell out in the ende, Camilla whether longing for so faire a Pomegranet, or willed to aske it, yet loth to require it, she sodeinlye complayned of an olde desease, wherwith shee manye times felt hir self grieved, which was an extreame heate in the stomack, which advantage Philautus marking, would not let slip, when it was purposely spoken, that he should not give them the slippe: and therefore as one gladde to have so convenient a time to offer both his duetie and his devotion, he beganne thus.

I Have heard Camilla, of Phisitions, that there is nothing eyther more comfortable, or more profitable for the stomack or enflamed liver, then a Poungranet, which if it be true, I am glad that I came in so good tyme with a medicine, seeing you were in so ill a time supprised with your maladie: and verily this will I saye, that there is not one Kernell but is able both to ease your paine, and to double your pleasure, and with that he gave it hir, desiring that as she felte the working of the potion, so shee would consider of the Phisition.

Camilla with a smyling countenaunce, neyther suspecting the craft, nor the conveyer, answered him with these thankes.

I thank you Gentleman as much for your counsell as your curtesie, and if your conning be answerable to eyther of them, I will make you amendes for all of them: yet I wil not open so faire a fruite as this is, untill I feele the payne that I so much feare. As you please quoth Philautus, yet if every morning you take one kernell, it is the way to prevent your disease, and me thinketh that you should be as carefull to worke meanes before it come, that you have it not, as to use meanes to expell it when you have it.

I am content, aunswered Camilla, to trye your phisick, which as I know it can do me no great harme, so it may doe me much good.

In truth sayd one of the Gentlewomen then present, I perceive this Gentleman is not onely cunning in Phisicke, but also very carefull for his Patient.

It behoveth, quoth Philautus, that he that ministreth to a Lady, be as desirous of hir health, as his owne credite, for that there redoundeth more prayse to the Phisition that hath a care to his charge, then to him that hath only a show of his Art. And I trust Camilla will better accept of the good will I have to ridde hir of hir disease, then the gift, which must worke the effect.

Otherwise quoth Camilla, I were verye much to blame, knowing that in manye the behaviour of the man, hath wrought more then the force of the medicine. For I would alwayes have my Phisition, of a cheerefull countenaunce, pleasauntlye concepted, and well proportioned, that he might have his sharpe Potions mixed with sweete counsayle, and his sower drugs mitigated with merry discourses.

And this is the cause, that in olde time, they paynted the God of Phisicke, not lyke Saturne but Aesculapius: of a good complection, fine witte, and excellent constitution.

For this I know by experience, though I be but young to learne, and have not often bene sicke, that the sight of a pleasant and quicke witted Phisition, hath removed that from my heart with talke, that he could not with all his Triacle.

That might well be, aunswered Philautus, for the man that wrought the cure, did perchaunce cause the disease, and so secret might the griefe be, that none could heale you, but he that hurte you, neither was your heart to be eased by any in-ward potion, but by some outward perswasion: and then it is no mervaile if the ministring of a few wordes, were more avayleable then Methridate.

Wel Gentleman said Camilla, I wil neither dispute in Phisick, wherin I have no skill, neither aunswere you, to your last surmise, which you seeme to levell at, but thanking you once againe both for your gift & good will, we wil use other communication, not forgetting to aske for your friend Euphues, who hath not long time bene, where he might have bene welcommed at all times, & that he came not with you at this time, we both mervayle, and would faine know.

This question so earnestlye asked of Camilla, and so hardlye to bee aunswered of Philautus, nipped him in the head, notwithstanding least he shold seeme by long silence to incurre some suspition, he thought a bad excuse better then none at all, saying that Euphues now a dayes, became so studious (or as he tearmed it, supersticious) that he could not himselfe so much, as have his company.

Belike quoth Camilla, he hath either espyed some new faults in the women of England, where-by he seeketh to absent himselfe, or some olde haunt that will cause him to spoyle himselfe.

Not so sayd Philautus, and yet that it was sayd so I will tell him.

Thus after much conference, many questions, and long time spent, Philautus tooke his leave, and beeing in his chamber, we will ther leave him with such cogitation, as they commonly have, that either attende the sentence of lyfe or death at the barre, or the aunswere of hope or dispaire of their loves, which none can set downe but he that hath them, for that they are not to be uttered by the conjecture of one that would imagine what they should be, but by him that knoweth what they are.

Camilla the next morning opened the Pomegranet, and saw the letter, which reading, pondering and perusing, she fell into a thousande contrarieties, whether it were best to aunswere it or not, at the last, inflamed with a kinde of cholar, for that she knew not what belonged to the perplexities of a lover, she requited his frawd and love, with anger and hate, in these termes, or the lyke.

To Philautus.

I Did long time debate with my selfe Philautus, whether it might stand with mine honour to send thee an aunswere, for comparing my place with thy person, me thought thy boldnes more, then either, good manners in thee wold permit, or I with modestie could suffer. Yet at the last, casting with my selfe, that the heat of thy love might clean be razed with the coldnes of my letter, I thought it good to commit an inconvenience, that I might prevent a mischiefe, chusing rather to cut thee off short by rigour, then to give thee any lot of hope by silence. Greene sores are to be dressed roughly, least they fester, tetars to be drawen in the beginning least they spread, ring wormes to be anoynted when they first appeare, least they compasse the whole body, & the assalts of love to be beaten back at the first siege, least they undermine at the second. Fire is to be quenched in the spark, weedes are to be rooted in the bud, follyes in the blossome. Thinking this morning to trye thy Phisick, I perceived thy frawd, insomuch as the kernel that shoulde have cooled my stomack with moistnes, hath kindled it with cholar, making a flaming fire, wher it found but hot imbers, converting like the Spider a sweet floure into a bitter poyson. I am Philautus no Italian Lady, who commonly are woed with leasings, & won with lust, entangled with deceipt & enjoyed with delight, caught with sinne, and cast off with shame.

For mine owne part, I am too young to knowe the passions of a lover, and too wise to beleeve them, and so farre from trusting any, that I suspect all: not that ther is in every one, a practise to deceive, but that ther wanteth in me a capacitie to conceive.

Seeke not then Philautus to make the tender twig crooked by Arte, which might have growen streight by Nature. Corne is not to be gathered in the budde, but in the eare, nor fruite to be pulled from the tree when it is greene, but when it is mellow, nor Grapes to bee cut for the presse, when they first rise, but when they are full ripe: nor young Ladies to be sued unto, that are fitter for a rodde then a husbande, and meeter to beare blowes then children.

You must not think of us as of those in your owne countrey, that no sooner are out of the cradell, but they are sent to the court, and woed some-times before they are weaned, which bringeth both the Nation and their names, not in question onely of dishonestie, but into obliquie.

This I would have thee to take for a flat aunswere, that I neither meane to love thee, nor heereafter if thou follow thy sute to heare thee. Thy first practise in the Masque I did not allow, the seconde by thy writing I mislyke, if thou attempt the third meanes, thou wilt enforce me to utter that, which modestie now maketh me to conceale.

If thy good will be so great as thou tellest, seeke to mitigate it by reason or time, I thanke thee for it, but I can-not requit it, unlesse either thou wert not Philautus , or I not Camilla. Thus pardoning thy boldnes uppon condition, and resting thy friend if thou rest thy sute, I ende.

Neither thine, nor hir owne,

THis letter Camilla stitched into an Italian Petrark which she had, determining at the next comming of Philautus, to deliver it, under the pretence of asking some question, or the understanding of some worde. Philautus attending hourelye the successe of his love, made his repaire according to his accustomable use, and finding the Gentlewomen sitting in an herbor, saluted them curteously, not forgetting to be inquisitive how Camilla was eased by his Poungranet, which oftentimes asking of hir, she aunswered him thus.

In faith Philautus, it had a faire coat, but a rotten kernell, which so much offended my weake stomacke, that the very sight caused me to loth it, and the sent to throw it into the fire.

I am sory quoth Philautus (who spake no lesse then trueth) that the medicine could not worke that, which my mind wished, & with that stoode as one in a traunce, which Camilla perceiving, thought best to rub no more on that gall, least the standers by should espy where Philautus shooe wronge him.

Well said Camilla let it goe, I must impute it to my ill fortune, that where I looked for a restoritie, I found a consumption: and with that she drew out hir petrarke, requesting him to conster hir a lesson, hoping his learning would be better for a scholemaister, then his lucke was for a Phisition. Thus walking in the ally, she listned to his construction, who turning the booke, found where the letter was enclosed, and dissembling that he suspected, he saide he would keepe hir Petrark untill the morning, do you quoth Camilla. With that the Gentlewomen clustred about them both, eyther to hear how cunningly Philautus could conster, or how readily Camilla could conceive. It fell out that they turned to such a place, as turned them all to a blanke, where it was reasoned, whether love came at the sodeine viewe of beautie, or by long experience of vertue, a long disputation was like to ensue, had not Camilla cut it off before they could joyne issue, as one not willing in the company of Philautus eyther to talke of love, or thinke of love, least eyther hee should suspect she had beene wooed, or might be won, which was not done so closelye, but it was perceived of Philautus, though dissembled. Thus after many words, they went out to their dinner, where I omit their table talke, least I loose mine.

After their repast, Surius came in with a great train, which lightened Camillas hart, & was a dagger to Philautus breast, who taried no longer then he had leysure to take his leave, eyther desirous to read his Ladyes aunswer, or not willing to enjoy Surius his companie, whome also I will now forsake, and followe Philautus, to heare how his minde is quieted with Camillas curtesie.

Philautus no sooner entred his chamber, but he read hir letter, wich wrought such skirmishes in his minde, that he had almost forgot reason, falling into the olde vaine of his rage, in this manner.

Ah cruell Camilla and accursed Philautus, I see now that it fareth with thee, as it doth with the Harpey, which having made one astonied with hir fayre sight, turneth him into a stone with hir venemous savor, and with me as it doth with those that view the Basiliske, whose eyes procure delight to the looker at the first glymse, and death at the second glaunce.

Is this the curtesie of England towardes straungers, to entreat them so dispightfully? Is my good will not onely rejected with-out cause, but also disdained without coulour? I but Philautus prayse at the parting, if she had not liked thee, she would never have aunswered thee. Knowest thou not that wher they love much, they dissemble most, that as fayre weather commeth after a foule storme, so sweete tearmes succeede sowre taunts?

Assaye once againe Philautus by Letters to winne hir love, and followe not the unkinde hounde, who leaveth the sent bycause hee is rated, or the bastarde Spanyell, which beeing once rebuked, never retriveth his game. Let Atlanta runne never to swiftelye, shee will looke back upon Hyppomanes, let Medea bee as cruell as a fende to all Gentle-men, shee will at the last respect Jason. A denyall at the first is accompted a graunt, a gentle aunswere a mockerie. Ladyes use their Lovers as the Storke doth hir young ones, who pecketh them till they bleed with hir bill, and then healeth them with hir tongue. Cupid him-self must spend one arrowe, and thinkest thou to speede with one Letter? No no Philautus, he that looketh t0 have cleere water must digge deepe, he that longeth for sweete Musicke, must set his stringes at the hyghest, hee that seeketh to win his love must stretch his labor, and hasard his lyfe. Venus blisseth Lions in the fold, and Lambes in the chamber, Eagles at the assaulte, and Foxes in counsayle, so that thou must be hardy in the pursuit, and meeke in victory, venterous in obtaining, and wise in concealing, so that thou win that with prayse, which otherwise thou wilt loose with peevishnesse. Faint hart Philautus neither winneth Castell nor Lady: therfore endure all thinges that shall happen with patience, and pursue with diligence, thy fortune is to be tryed, not by the accedents but by the end.

Thus Gentlewoemen, Philautus resembleth the Viper, who beeing stricken with a reede lyeth as he were dead, but stricken the second tyme, recovereth his strength: having his answer at the first in the masque, he was almost amased, and nowe againe denied, he is animated, presuming thus much upon the good disposition and kindnesse of woemen, that the higher they sit, the lower they looke, and the more they seeme at the first to loth, the more they love at the last. Whose judgement as I am not altogether to allow, so can I not in some respect mislike. For in this they resemble the Crocodile, who when one approcheth neere unto him, gathereth up him-self into the roundnesse of a ball, but running from him, stretcheth him-self into the length of a tree. The willing resistance of women was the cause that made Arellius (whose arte was only to draw women) to paynt Venus Cnydia catching at the ball with hir hand, which she seemed to spurn at with hir foote. And in this poynt they are not unlike unto the Mirre Tree, which being hewed, gathereth in his sappe, but not moved, poureth it out like sirrop. Woemen are never more coye then when they are beloved, yet in their mindes never lesse constant, seeming to tye themselves to the mast of the shippe with Ulysses, when they are wooed, with a strong Cable: which being well discerned is a twine threed: throwing a stone at the head of him, unto whome they immediately cast out an aple, of which their gentle nature Philautus being perswaded, followed his suit againe in this manner.

Philautus to the faire, Camilla.

I Cannot tell (Camilla) whether thy ingratitude be greater, or my misfortune, for perusing the few lynes thou gavest me, I found as small hope of my love as of thy courtesie. But so extreame are the passions of love, that the more thou seekest to quench them by disdayne, the greater flame thou encreasest by desire. Not unlyke unto Jupiters Well, which extinguisheth a firie brande, and kindleth a wet sticke. And no lesse force, hath thy beautie over me, then the fire hath over Naptha which leapeth into it, whersoever it seeth it.

I am not he Camilla that will leave the Rose, bicause I pricked my finger, or forsake the golde that lyeth in the hot fire, for that I burnt my hande, or refuse the sweete Chesnut, for that it is covered with sharpe huskes. The minde of a faithfull lover, is neither to be daunted with despite, nor afrighted with daunger. For as the Load-stone, what winde soever flowe, tourneth alwayes to the North, or as Aristotles Quadratus, which way soever you tourne it, is alwayes constant: so the faith of Philautus, is evermore applyed to the love of Camilla, neither to be removed with any winde, or rolled with any force. But to thy letter.

Thou saist greene wounds are to be dressed roughly least they fester: certeinly thou speakest lyke a good Chyrugian, but dealest lyke one unskilfull, for making a great wound, thou puttest in a small tent, cutting the flesh that is sound, before thou cure the place that is sore: striking the veyne with a knife, which thou shouldest stop with lynt. And so hast thou drawn my tetter, (I use thine owne terme) that in seeking to spoyle it in my chinne, thou hast spreade it over my body.

Thou addest thou art no Italyan Lady, I answer, would thou wert, not that I would have thee wooed, as thou sayst they are, but that I might win thee as thou now art: and yet this I dare say, though not to excuse al, or to disgrace thee, that some there are in Italy too wise to be caught with leasings, and too honest to be entangled with lust, and as wary to eschue sinne, as they are willing to sustaine shame, so that what-soever the most be, I would not have thee thinke ill of the best.

Thou alleadgest thy youth and allowed thy wisedome, the one not apt to know the impressions of love, the other suspitious not to beleeve them. Truely Camilla I have heard, that young is the Goose that wil eate no Oates, and a very ill Cocke that will not crow before he be olde, and no right Lyon, that will not feede on hard meat, before he tast sweet milke, and a tender Virgin God knowes it must be, that measureth hir affections by hir age, when as naturally they are enclyned (which thou perticularly puttest to our countrey) to play the brides, before they be able to dresse their heades.

Many similytudes thou bringest in to excuse youth, thy twig, thy corne, thy fruit, thy grape, & I know not what, which are as easelye to be refelled, as they are to be repeated.

But my good Camilla, I am as unwillyng to confute any thing thou speakest, as I am thou shouldst utter it: insomuch as I would sweare the Crow were white, if thou shouldest but say it.

My good will is greater than I can expresse, and thy courtesie lesse then I deserve: thy counsayle to expell it with time and reason, of so lyttle force, that I have neither the will to use the meane, nor the wit to conceive it. But this I say, that nothing can break off my love but death, nor any thing hasten my death, but thy discourtesie. And so I attend thy finall sentence, & my fatall destenie.

Thine ever, though he
be never thine.

THis letter he thought by no meanes better to be conveyed, then in the same booke he received hirs, so omitting no time, least the yron should coole before he could strike, he presently went to Camilla, whome he founde in gathering of flowers, with divers other Ladyes and Gentlewomen, which came aswell to recreate themselves for pleasure, as to visite Camilla, whom they all loved. Philautus somewhat boldened by acquaintaunce, courteous by nature, and courtly by countenaunce, saluted them al with such termes, as he thought meete for such personages, not forgetting to call Camilla his schollar, when she had schooled him being hir master.

One of the Ladies who delighted much in mirth, seing Philautus behold Camilla so stedfastly, saide unto him.

GEntleman, what floure like you best in all this border, heere be faire Roses, sweete Violets, fragrant primroses, heere wil be lilly-floures, Carnations, sops in wine, sweet Johns, and what may either please you for sight, or delight you with savour: loth we are you should have a Posie of all, yet willing to give you one, not that which shal looke best, but such a one as you shal lyke best. Philautus omitting no opportunitie, that might either manifest his affection or commend his wit, aunswered hir thus.

Lady, of so many sweet floures to chuse the best, it is harde, seeing they be all so good, if I shoulde preferre the fairest before the sweetest you would happely imagine that either I were stopped in the nose, or wanton in the eyes, if the sweetnesse before the beautie, then would you gesse me either to lyve with savours, or to have no judgement in colours, but to tell my minde (upon correction be it spoken) of all flowers, I love a faire woman.

In deede quoth Flavia (for so was she named) faire women are set thicke, but they come up thinne, and when they begin to budde, they are gathered as though they wer blowne, of such men as you are Gentleman, who thinke greene grasse will never be drye Hay, but when the flower of their youth (being slipped too young) shall fade before they be olde, then I dare saye, you would chaunge your faire flower for a weede, and the woman you loved then, for the worst violet you refuse now.

Lady aunswered Philautus, it is a signe that beautie was no niggard of hir slippes in this gardein, and very envious to other grounds, seing heere are so many in one Plot, as I shall never finde more in all Italy, whether the reason be the heate which killeth them, or the country that cannot beare them. As for plucking them up soone, in that we shew the desire we have to them, not the malyce. Where you conjecture, that men have no respect to things when they be olde, I cannot consent to your saying for well doe they know that it fareth with women as it doth with the Mulbery tree, which the elder it is, the younger it seemeth, and therfore hath it growen to a Proverb in Italy, when one see-eth a woman striken in age to looke amiable, he saith she hath eaten a Snake: so that I must of force follow mine olde opinion, that I love fresh flowers well, but faire women better.

Flavia would not so leave him, but thus replyed to him.

You are very amorous Gentleman, otherwise you wold not take the defence of that thing which most men contemne, and women will not confesse. For where-as you goe about to currey favour, you make a fault, either in praysing us too much, which we accompt in Englande flatterye, or pleasing your selfe in your owne minde, which wise men esteeme as folly. For when you endeavour to prove that woemen the older they are, the fayrer they looke, you thinke them eyther very credulous to beleeve, or your talke verye effectuall to perswade. But as cunning as you are in your Pater noster, I will add one Article more to our Crede, that is, you may speak in matters of love what you will, but women will beleeve but what they lyst, and in extolling their beauties, they give more credit to their owne glasses, then mens gloses.

But you have not yet aunswered my request touching what flower you most desire: for woemen doe not resemble flowers, neyther in shew nor savour.

Philautus not shrinking for an Aprill showre, followed the chace in this manner.

Lady, I neither flatter you nor please my selfe (although it pleaseth you so to conjecture) for I have alwayes observed this, that to stand too much in mine owne conceite would gaine me little, and to claw to those of whome I sought for no benefite, woulde profit me lesse: yet was I never so ill brought up, but that I could when time and place should serve, give every one I lyked their just commendation, unlesse it were among those that were with-out comparison: offending in nothing but in this, that beeing too curious in praising my Lady, I was like to the Painter Protogenes, who could never leave when his worke was well, which faulte is to be excused in him, bicause hee would make it better, and may be borne with in mee, for that I wish it excellent. Touching your first demaund which you seeme againe to urge in your last discourse, I say of al flowers I love the Rose best, yet with this condition, bicause I wil not eate my word, I like a faire Lady well. Then quoth Flavia since you wil needes joyne the flower with the woman, amonge all us (& speake not partially) call hir your Rose that you most regarde, and if she deny that name, we will enjoyne hir a penance for hir pride, & rewarde you with a violet for your paynes.

Philautus being driven to this shift wished him selfe in his chamber, for this he thought that if he shoulde choose Camilla she woulde not accept it, if an other, she might justly reject him. If he shoulde discover his love, then woulde Camilla thinke him not to be secreate, if concele it, not to be fervent: besides all, the Ladyes woulde espie his love and prevent it, or Camilla despise his offer, and not regarde it. While he was thus in a deepe meditation, Flavia wakened him saying, why Gentleman are you in a dreame, or is there none heere worthy to make choyce of, or are wee all so indifferent, that there is never a good.

Philautus seeing this Lady so curteous, and loving Camilla so earnestly, coulde not yet resolve with himselfe what to doe, but at the last, love whiche neither regardeth what it speaketh, nor where, he replied thus at all adventures.

LAdyes and Gentlewomen, I woulde I were to fortunate that I might choose every one of you for a flower, and then would I boldely affirme that I coulde shewe the fayrest poesie in the worlde, but follye it is for me to wish that being a slave, which none can hope for, that is an Emperour. If I make my choyse I shall speede so well as he that enjoyeth all Europe. And with that gathering a rose he gave it to Camilla, whose coulour so encreasd as one would have judged al hir face to have been a Rose, had it not beene stayned with a naturall whitnesse, which made hir to excell the Rose.

Camilla with a smiling countenance as though nothing greeved, yet vexed inwardly to the heart, refused the gifte flatly, pretending a redy excuse, which was, that Philautus was either very much over seene to take hir before the Ladie Flavia, or els disposed to give hir a mocke above the rest in the companie.

Well quoth Flavia to Philautus (who nowe stoode like one that had beene besmered) there is no harme done, for I perceive Camilla is otherwise spedde, and if I be not much deceived, she is a flower for Surius wearing, the penance shee shall have is to make you a Nosegay which shee shall not denye thee, unlesse shee defie us, and the rewarde thou shalt have, is this, while you tarrie in Englande my neece shal be your Violet.

This Ladyes cousin was named Frauncis, a fayre Gentlewoman and a wise, young and of very good conditions, not much inferiour to Camilla, equall shee could not be.

Camilla who was loth to be accompted in any company coye, endevoured in the presence of the Ladie Flavia to be very curteous, and gathered for Philautus a posie of all the finest flowers in the Garden, saying thus unto him, I hope you will not be offended Philautus in that I coulde not be your Rose, but imputing the faulte rather to destinie then discurtesie.

Philautus plucking up his spirits, gave hir thanks for his paynes, and immediately gathered a violet, which he gave mistres Frauncis, which she curteously received, thus all partes were pleased for that time.

Philautus was invited to dinner, so that he could no longer stay, but pulling out the booke wherein his letter was enclosed, he delivered it to Camilla, taking his humble leave of the Lady Flavia and the rest of the Gentlewomen.

When he was gone there fell much talke of him between the Gentlewomen, one commending his wit, an other his personage, some his favour, all his good conditions insomuch that the Ladie Flavia bound it with an othe, that she thought him both wise and honest.

When his company was dissolved, Camilla not thinking to receive an aunswere, but a lecture, went to hir Italian booke where shee founde the letter of Philautus, who without any further advise, as one very much offended, or in a great heate, sent him this bone to gnawe uppon.

To Philautus.

SUffice it not thee Philautus to bewraie thy follies & move my pacience, but thou must also procure in me a minde to revenge, & to thy selfe the meanes of a farther perill? Where diddest thou learne that being forbidden to be bold, thou shouldest growe impudent? or being suffered to be familiar thou shouldest waxe haile fellowe? But to so malepert boldnes is the demeanor of young Gentlemen come, that where thy have bene once welcome for curtesie, they thinke themselves worthie to court any Lady by customes: wherin they imagine they use singuler audacitie which we can no otherwise terme then saucinesse, thinking women are to be drawen by their coyned & counterfait conceipts, as the straw is by the Aumber, or the yron by the Loadstone, or the gold by the minerall Chrysocolla.

But as there is no serpent that can breede in the Box tree for the hardnesse, nor wil build in the Cypres tree for the bitternesse, so is there no fond or poysoned lover that shall enter into my heart which is hardned like the Adamant, nor take delight in my words, which shalbe more bitter then Gall.

It fareth with thee Philautus, as with the droone, who having lost hir owne wings. seekes to spoile the Bees of theirs, & thou being clipped of thy libertie, goest about to bereave me of mine, not farre differing from the natures of Dragons, who sucking bloud out of the Elephant, kill him, and with the same, poyson themselves: & it may be that by the same meanes that thou takest in hande to inveigle my minde, thou entrap thine owne: a just reward, for so unjust dealing, and a fit revenge for so unkinde a regard.

But I trust thy purpose shall take no place, and that thy mallice shall want might, wherein thou shalt resemble the serpent Porphirius, who is full of poyson, but being toothlesse he hurteth none but himselfe, and I doubt not but thy minde is as ful of deceipt, as thy words are of flatterie, but having no toothe to bite, I have no cause to feare.

I had not thought to have used so sower words, but where a wande cannot rule the horse, a spurre must. When gentle medicines, have no force to purge, wee must use bitter potions: and where the sore is neither to be dissolved by plaister, nor to be broken, it is requisite, it should be launced.

Hearbes that are the worse for watering, are to be rooted out, trees that are lesse fertile for the lopping, are to be hewen downe. Hawkes that waxe haggard by manning, are to be cast off, & fonde lovers, that encrease in their follyes when they be rejected, are to bee dispised.

But as to be without haire, amongst the Mycanions, is accompted no shame, bicause they be al borne balde, so in Italy to lyve in love, is thought no fault, for that there they are all given to lust, which maketh thee to conjecture, that we in England recken love as the chiefest vertue, which we abhorre as the greatest vice, which groweth lyke the Ivie about the trees, and killeth them by cullyng them. Thou arte alwayes talking of Love, and applying both thy witte and thy wealth in that idle trade: only for that thou thinkest thy selfe amiable, not unlyke unto the Hedgehogge, who evermore lodgeth in the thornes, bicause he himselfe is full of prickells.

But take this both for a warning & an aunswer, that if thou prosecute thy suite, thou shalt but undoe thyselfe, for I am neither to be woed with thy passions, whilest thou livest, nor to repent me of my rigor when thou art dead, which I wold not have thee think to proceede of anye hate I beare thee, for I malyce none, but for love to mine honour, which neither Italians shal violate, nor English man diminish. For as the precious stone Chalazias, being throwen into the fire keepeth stil his coldnesse, not to be warmed with any heate, so my heart although dented at with the arrowes of thy burning affections, and as it were environed with the fire of thy love, shal alwayes keepe his hardnesse, & be so farre from being mollyfied, that thou shalt not perceive it moved.

The Violet Ladie Flavia bestowed on thee, I wishe thee, and if thou lyke it, I will further thee, otherwise if thou persist in thine olde follyes, wherby to encrease my new griefes, I will neither come where thou art, nor shalt thou have accesse to the place where I am. For as little agreement shal there be betweene us, as is betwixt the Vine, and the Cabish, the Oke and the Olyve tree, the Serpent and the Ash tree, the yron and Theamedes.

And if ever thou diddest love me, manifest it in this, that heereafter thou never write to mee, so shall I both be perswaded of thy faith, and eased of mine owne feare. But if thou attempt againe to wring water out of the Pommice, thou shalt but bewraye thy falshoode, and augment thy shame, and my severitie.

For this I sweare, by hir whose lyghts can never dye, Vesta, and by hir whose heasts are not to be broken, Diana, that I will never consent to love him, whose sight (if I may so say with modestie) is more bitter unto me then death.

If this aunswere wil not content thee, I wil shew thy letters, disclose thy love, and make thee ashamed to undertake that, which thou cannest never bring to passe. And so I ende, thine, if thou leave to be mine.


CAmilla dispatched this letter with speede, and sent it to Philautus by hir man, which Philautus having read, I commit the plyght he was in, to the consideration of you Gentlemen that have ben in the like: he tare his haire, rent his clothes, and fell from the passions of a Lover to the panges of phrensie, but at the last callyng his wittes to him, forgetting both the charge Camilla gave him, and the contents of hir Letter, hee greeted hir immediately agayne, with an aunswere by hir owne Messenger in this manner.

To the cruell Camilla,

IF I were as farre in thy bookes to be beleeved, as thou art in mine to be beloved, thou shouldest either soone be made a wife, or ever remaine a Virgin, the one would ridde me of hope, the other acquit mee of feare.

But seeing there wanteth witte in mee to perswade, and will in thee to consent: I meane to manifest the beginning of my Love, by the ende of my lyfe, the affects of the one shal appeare by the effects of the other.

When as neither solempne oath nor sound perswasion, nor any reason can worke in thee a remorse, I meane by death to shew my desire, the which the sooner it commeth, the sweeter it shalbe, and the shortnes of the force, shal abate the sharpnes of the sorrow. I cannot tel whether thou laugh at my folly, or lament my phrensie, but this I say, & with salt teares trickling down my cheekes, I swere, that thou never foundst more plesure in rejecting my love, then thou shalt feele paine in remembring my losse, & as bitter shal lyfe be to thee, as death to me, and as sorrowfull shal my friends be to see thee prosper, as thine glad to see me perish.

Thou thinkest all I write, of course, and makest all I speake, of small accompt: but God who revengeth the perjuries of the dissembler, is witnesse of my truth, of whom I desire no longer to lyve, then I meane simply to love.

I will not use many wordes, for if thou be wise, few are sufficient, if froward, superfluous: one lyne is inough, if thou be courteous, one word too much, if thou be cruell. Yet this I adde and that in bitternes of soule, that neither my hande dareth write that, which my heart intendeth, nor my tongue utter that, which my hande shall execute. And so fare-well, unto whom onely I wish well.

Thine ever, though
shortly never.

THis Letter beeing written in the extremitie of his rage, he sent by him that brought hirs. Camilla perceiving a fresh reply, was not a little melancholy, but digesting it with company, & burning the letter, she determined never to write to him, nor after that to see him, so resolute was she in hir opinion, I dare not say obstinate least you gentlewomen shoulde take pepper in the nose, when I put but salt to your mouthes. But this I dare boldly affirme, that Ladies are to be woed with Appelles pencill, Orpheus Harpe, Mercuries tongue, Adonis beautie, Croesus welth, or els never to be wone, for their bewties being blased, their eares tickled, their mindes moved, their eyes pleased, there appetite satisfied, their coffers filled, when they have al thinges they shoulde have and would have, then men neede not to stande in doubt of their comming, but of their constancie.

But let me followe Philautus, who nowe both loathing his life and cursing his lucke, called to remembrance his old friend Euphues, whom he was wont to have alwayes in mirth a pleasant companion, in griefe a comforter, in al his life the only stay of his lybertie, the discurtesie which hee offered him so encreased his greefe, that he fell into these termes of rage, as one either in an extasie, or in a lunacie.

Now Philautus dispute no more with thy selfe of thy love, but be desparate to ende thy life, thou hast cast off thy friende, and thy Lady hath forsaken thee, thou destitute of both, canst neither have comfort of Camilla, whom thou seest obstinate, nor counsaile of Euphues, whom thou hast made envious.

Ah my good friende Euphues, I see nowe at length, though too late, that a true friend is of more price then a kingdome, and that the faith of thee is to be preferred, before the beautie of Camilla.

For as safe being is it in the company of a trustie mate, as sleeping in the grasse Trifole, where there is no serpent so venemous that dare venture.

Thou wast ever carefull for my estate, & I carelesse for thine, thou diddest alwayes feare in me the fire of love, I ever flattered my selfe with the bridle of wisedome, when thou wast earnest to give me counsaile, I waxed angrie to heare it, if thou diddest suspect me upon just cause, I fel out with thee for every light occasion, nowe now Euphues, I see what it is to want a friend, & what it is to loose one, thy wordes are come to passe which once I thought thou spakest in sport, but nowe I finde them as a prophecie, that I should be constrayned to stande at Euphues dore as the true owner.

What shal I do in this extremitie? which way shal I turne me? of whom shal I seeke remedie? Euphues wil reject me, & why shoulde he not? Camilla hath rejected me, & why should she? the one I have offended with too much griefe, the other I have served with too great good will, the one is lost with love, the other with hate, he for that I cared not for him, she because I cared for hir. I but though Camilla be not to be moved, Euphues may be mollified. Trie him Philautus, sue to him, make friends, write to him, leave nothing undone that may either shew in thee a sorrowful heart, or move in him a minde that is pitifull. Thou knowest he is of nature curteous, one that hateth none, that loveth thee, that is tractable in al things, Lions spare those that couch to them, the Tygresse biteth not when shee is clawed, Cerberus barketh not if Orpheus pipe sweetly, assure thy self that if thou be penitent, he will be pleased: and the old friendship wilbe better then the newe.

Thus Philautus joying nowe in nothing but onely in the hope he had to recover the friendship with repentance, which he had broken off by rashnesse, determined to greet his friend Euphues, who al this while lost no time at his booke in London, but how he imployed it, he shall himselfe utter, for that I am neither of his counsaile nor court, but what he hath done he will not conceale, for rather he wisheth to be wray his ignorance, then his ydlenes, and willinger you shall find him to make excuse of rudenesse then lasinesse.

But thus Philautus saluted him.

Philautus to Euphues.

THe sharpe Northeast winde (my good Euphues) doth never last three dayes, tempestes have but a short time, and the more violent the thunder is, the lesse permanent it is. In the like maner it falleth out with the jarres & crossings of friends which begun in a minuit, are ended in a moment.

Necessary it is that among frinds there should bee some over-thwarting, but to continue in anger not convenient, the camill first troubleth the water before he drinke, the Frankensence is burned before it smell, friendes are tryed before they are to be trusted, least shining like the Carbuncle as though they had fire, they be found being touched, to be without fire.

Friendshippe should be like the wine which Homer much commending, calleth Maroneum, whereof one pient being mingled with five quartes of water, yet it keepeth his old strength & vertue, not to be qualified by any discurtesie. Where salt doth grow nothing els can breede, where friendship is built, no offence can harbour.

Then good Euphues let the falling out of friends be a renewing of affection, that in this we may resemble the bones of the Lyon, which lying still & not moved begin to rot, but being striken one against another break out like fire, and wax greene.

The anger of friends is not unlike unto the phisitions Cucurbitae which drawing al the infecion in the body into one place, doth purge al diseases: and the rages of friendes, reaping up al the hidden malices, or suspicions, or follyes that lay lurking in the minde, maketh the knot more durable: For as the bodie being purged of melancholy waxeth light and apt to all labour, so the minde as it were scoured of mistrust, becommeth fit ever after for beleefe.

But why doe I not confesse that which I have committed, or knowing my selfe guilty, why use I to glose, I have unjustly my good Euphues, picked a quarrel against thee, forgetting the counsell thou gavest me, & despising that which I nowe desire. Which as often as I call to my minde, I cannot but blush to my selfe for shame, and fall out with my selfe for anger. For in falling out with thee, I have done no otherwise then he that desiring to saile safely killeth him at the helme, resembling him that having neede to slight spurreth his horse to make him stande still, or him that swimming upon anothers backe, seeketh to stoppe his breath.

It was in thee Euphues that I put all my trust, & yet uppon thee that I powred out all my mallice, more cruel then the Crocadile, who suffereth the birde to breede in hir mouth, that scoureth hir teeth, & nothing so gentle as the princely Lyon, who saved his life, that helped his foote. But if either thy good nature can forget, that which my ill tongue doth repent, or thy accustomable kindnesse forgive, that my unbridled furie did commit, I will hereafter be as willing to be thy servant, as I am now desirous to be thy friend, and as redie to take an injurie, as I was to give an offence.

What I have done in thine absence I will certifie at thy comming, and yet I doubt not but thou cannest gesse by my condition, yet this I add, that I am as ready to die as to live, & were I not animated with the hope of thy good counsell, I would rather have suffered the death I wish for, then sustained the shame I sought for. But nowe in these extremities reposing both my life in thy hands, and my service at thy commaundement, I attend thine aunswere, and rest thine to use more then his owne.


THis letter he dispatched by his boye, which Euphues reading, could not tell whether he shoulde more rejoyce at his friends submission, or mistrust his subtiltie, therefore as one not resolving himselfe to determine any thing, as yet, aunswered him thus immediately by his owne messenger.

Euphues to him, that was
his Philautus.

I Have received thy letter, and know the man: I read it and perceived the matter, which I am as farre from knowing how to aunswere, as I was from looking for such an errand.

Thou beginnest to inferre a necessitie that friends should fall out, when as I can-not allowe a convenience. For if it be among such as are faithfull, there should be no cause of breach: if betweene dissemblers, no care of reconciliation.

The Camel saist thou, loveth water, when it is troubled, & I say, the Hart thirsteth for the cleare streame: & fitly diddest thou bring it in against thy selfe (though applyed it, I know not how aptlye for thy selfe) for such friendship doest thou lyke, where braules may be stirred, not quietnesse sought.

The wine Maroneum which thou commendest, & the salt ground which thou inferrest, the one is neither fit for thy drinking, nor the other for thy tast, for such strong Wines will overcome such lyght wits, and so good salt cannot relysh in so unsavory a mouth, neither as thou desirest to applye them, can they stande thee in steede. For often-times have I found much water in thy deedes, but not one drop of such wine, & the ground where salte should grow, but never one corne that had savour.

After many reasons to conclude, that jarres were requisit, thou fallest to a kinde of submission, which I mervayle at: For if I gave no cause, why diddest thou picke a quarrell: if any, why shouldest thou crave a pardon? If thou canst defie thy best friend, what wilt thou doe to thine enemie? Certeinly this must needes ensue, that if thou canst not be constant to thy friend, when he doth thee good, thou wilt never beare with him, when hee shall do thee harme: thou that seekest to spil the bloud of the innocent, canst shew small mercye to an offender: thou that treadest a Worme on the taile, wilt crush a Waspe on the head: thou that art angry for no cause, wilt I thinke runne madde for a light occasion.

Truly Philautus, that once I loved thee, I can-not deny, that now I should againe doe so, I refuse: For smal confidence shal I repose in thee, when I am guiltie, that can finde no refuge in innocencie.

The malyce of a friend, is like the sting of an Aspe, which nothing can remedie, for being pearced in the hande it must be cut off, and a friend thrust to the heart it must be pulled out.

I had as liefe Philautus have a wound that inwardly might lyghtly grieve me, then a scar that outwardly should greatly shame me.

In that thou seemest so earnest to crave attonement thou causest me the more to suspect thy truth: for either thou art compelled by necessitie, & then it is not worth thankes, or els disposed againe to abuse me, and then it deserveth revenge., Eeles cannot be helde in a wet hande, yet are they stayed with a bitter Figge leafe, the Lamprey is not to be killed with a cudgel, yet is she spoiled with a cane, so friends that are so slipperie, and wavering in all their dealyngs are not to be kept with fayre and smooth talke, but with rough and sharp taunts: and contrariwise, those which with blowes, are not to be reformed, are oftentimes wonne with light perswasions.

Which way I should use thee I know not, for now a sharpe word moved thee, when otherwhiles a sword wil not, then a friendly checke killeth thee, when a rasor cannot rase thee.

But to conclude Philautus, it fareth with me now, as with those, that have bene once bitten with the Scorpion, who never after feele anye sting, either of the Waspe, or the Hornet, or the Bee, for I having bene pricked with thy falsehoode shal never I hope againe be touched with any other dissembler, flatterer, or fickle friend.

Touching thy lyfe in my absence, I feare me it hath bene too loose, but seeing my counsell is no more welcome unto thee then water into a ship, I wil not wast winde to instruct him, that wasteth himselfe to destroy others.

Yet if I were as fully perswaded of thy conversion, as thou wouldest have mee of thy confession, I might happely doe that, which now I will not.

And so fare-well Philautus, and though thou lyttle esteeme my consayle, yet have respect to thine owne credite: So in working thine owne good, thou shalt keepe me from harme.

Thine once,

This letter pinched Philautus at the first, yet trusting much to the good disposition of Euphues, he determined to persever both in his sute & amendment, & therfore as one beating his yron that he might frame it while it were hoat, aunswered him in this manner.

To mine onely friend,

THere is no bone so hard but being laid in vinegar, it may be wrought, nor Ivory so tough, but seasoned with Zutho it may be engraven, nor Box so knottie, that dipped in oyle can-not be carved, and can ther be a heart in Euphues, which neither will yeelde to softnesse with gentle perswasions, nor true perseveraunce? What canst thou require at my hande, that I will deny thee? have I broken the league of friendship? I confesse it, have I misused thee in termes, I will not deny it. But being sorrowfull for either, why shouldest not thou forgive both.

Water is praysed for that it savoureth of nothing. Fire, for that it yeeldeth to nothing: & such should the nature of a true friend be, that it should not savour of any rigour, and such the effect, that it may not be conquered with any offence: Otherwise, faith put into the breast that beareth grudges, or contracted with him that can remember griefes, is not unlyke unto Wine poured into Firre vessels, which is present death to the drinker.

Friends must be used, as the Musitians tune their strings, who finding them in a discorde, doe not breake them, but either by intention or remission, frame them to a pleasant consent: or as Riders handle their young Coltes, who finding them wilde & untractable, bring them to a good pace, with a gentle rayne, not with a sharp spurre, or as the Scithians ruled their slaves not with cruell weapons, but with the shewe of small whippes. Then Euphues consider with thy selfe what I may be, not what I have beene, and forsake me not for that I deceived thee, if thou doe, thy discurtesie will breede my destruction.

For as there is no beast that toucheth the hearbe whereon the Beare hath brethed, so there is no man that will come neere him, upon whom the suspicion of deceipt is fastened.

Concerning my life passed, I conceale it, though to thee I meane hereafter to confesse it: yet hath it not beene so wicked that thou shouldest be ashamed, though so infortunate, that I am greeved. Consider we are in England, where our demeanour will be narrowly marked if we treade a wrie, and our follyes mocked if use wrangling. I thinke thou art willing that no such thing shoulde happen, and I knowe thou art wise to prevent it.

I was of late in the company of divers gentlewomen, among whom Camilla was present, who mervailed not a little, that thou soughtest either to absent thy selfe of some conceived injurie, where there was none given, or of set purpose, bicause thou wouldest give one.

I thinke it requisite as well to avoyd the suspicion of malice, as to shunne the note of ingratitude, that thou repayre thither, both to purge thy selfe of the opinion, may be conceived, and to give thanks for the benefits received.

Thus assuring thy selfe thou wilt aunswere my expectation, and renue our olde amitie, I ende, thine assured to commaunde.


Philautus did not sleepe about his busines, but presently sent this letter, thinking that if once he could fasten friendshippe againe uppon Euphues, that by his meanes he should compasse his love with Camilla, and yet this I durst affirme, that Philautus was both willing to have Euphues, and sorrowfull that he lost him by his owne lavishnes.

Euphues perused this letter oftentimes, being in a mammering what to aunswere, at the last he determined once againe to lie a loofe, thinking that if Philautus meant faithfully, he woulde not desist from his suite, and therefore he returned salutations in this manner.

Euphues to Philautus.

THere is an hearbe in India Philautus of plesaunt smell, but who so commeth to it feeleth present smart, for that there breede in it a number of small serpents. And it may be that though thy letter be full of sweete words, there breed in thy heart many bitter thoughts, so that in giving credite to thy letters, I may be deceived with thy leasings.

The Box tree is alwayes greene, but the seede is poyson: Tilia hath a sweete rinde & a pleasant leafe, but the fruite so bitter that no beast will bite it, a dissembler hath ever-more Honneye in his mouth, and Gall in his minde, whiche maketh me to suspecte their wiles, though I cannot ever prevent them.

Thou settest downe the office of a friend, which if they couldst as well performe as thou canst describe, I woulde be as willing to confirme our olde league, as I am to beleeve thy newe lawes. Water that savoureth nothing (as thou sayest) may bee heated and scald thee, and fire whiche yealdeth to nothing may be quenched, when thou wouldest warme thee.

So the friende in whome there was no intent to offende, may thorowe the sinister dealings of his fellowe bee turned to heate, beeing before colde, and the faith which wrought like a flame in him, be quenched and have no sparke.

The powring of Wine into Firre vessels serveth thee to no purpose, for if it be good Wine, there is no man so foolish to put into Firre, if bad, who woulde power into better then Firre.

Mustie Caskes are fitte for rotten Grapes, a barrel of poysoned Ivie is good ynough for a tunne of stinking Oyle, and crueltie too milde a medicine for crafte.

Howe Musitions tune their instruments I knowe, but how a man should temper his friend I cannot tel, yet oftentimes the string breaketh that the Musition seeketh to tune, & the friend cracketh which good counsell shoulde tame, such coltes are to be ridden with a sharpe snafle, not with a pleasant bitte, and little will the Sithian whippe be regarded where the sharpnes of the sword is derided.

If thy lucke have beene infortunate, it is a signe thy living hath not beene Godly, for commonly there commeth an yll ende where there was a naughtie beginning.

But learne Philautus to live hereafter as though thou shouldest not live at all, be constant to them that trust thee, & trust them that thou hast tried, dissemble not with thy friend, either for feare to displease him, or for malice to deceive him, know this that the best simples are very simple, if the phisition could not applie them, that precious stones were no better then Pebbles, if Lapidaries did not knowe them, that the best friende is worse then a foe, if a man doe not use him.

Methridate must be taken inwardly, not spread on plaisters, purgations must be used like drink, not like bathes, the counsaile of a friend must be fastened to the minde, not to the eare, followed, not praysed, employed in good living, not talked off in good meaning.

I know Philautus we are in England, but I would we wer not, not that the place is too base, but that we are too bad, & God graunt thou have done nothing which may turne thee to discredite, or me to displeasure. Thou sayest thou werte of late with Camilla, I feare me too late, and yet perhaps too soone, I have alwayes tolde thee, that she was too high for thee to clymb, & too faire for others to catch, and too vertuous for any to inveigle.

But wilde horses breake high hedges, though they cannot leap over them, eager Wolves bark at the Moone, though they cannot reach it, and Mercurie whisteleth for Vesta, though he cannot winne hir.

For absenting my selfe, I hope they can take no cause of offence, neither that I knowe have I given any. I love not to be bold, yet would I be welcome, but gestes and fish say we in Athens are ever stale within three dayes, shortly I will visite them, and excuse my selfe, in the meane season I thinke so well of them, as it is possible for a man to thinke of women, and how well that is, I appeale to thee who alwayes madest them no worse then sancts in heaven, and shrines in no worse place then thy heart.

For aunswering thy suite I am not yet so hastie, for accepting thy service I am not so imperious, for in friendeship there must be an equalitie of estates, & be that may bee in us, also a similitude of manners, and that cannot, unlesse thou learne a newe lesson, and leave the olde, untill which time I leave thee, wishing thee well as to my selfe.


THis Letter was written in hast, sent with speed, & aunswered againe in post. For Philautus seeing so good counsaile could not proceede of any ill conceipt, thought once againe to sollicite his friend, and that in such tearmes as he might be most agreeable to Euphues tune. In this manner.

To Euphues health in body,
and quietnesse in minde.

IN Musicke there are many discords, before there can be framed a Diapason, and in contracting of good will, many jarres before there be established a friendship, but by these meanes, the Musicke is more sweet, and the amitie more sound. I have received thy letter, where-in there is as much good counsaile conteined as either I would wish, or thou thy selfe couldest give: but ever thou harpest on that string, which long since was out of tune, but now is broken, my inconstancie.

Certes my good Euphues, as I can-not but commend thy wisedome in making a staye of reconciliation, (for that thou findest so lyttle stay in me) so can I not but mervayle at thy incredulytie in not beleeving me, since that thou seest a reformation in me.

But it maye be thou dealest with me, as the Philosopher did with his knife, who being many yeares in making of it, alwayes dealyng by the observation of the starres, caused it at the last to cut the hard whet-stone, saying that it skilled not how long things were a doing, but how well they were done.

And thou holdest me off with many delayes, using I knowe not what observations, thinking thereby to make me a friend at the last, that shall laste: I prayse thy good meaning, but I mislyke thy rigour.

Me, thou shalt use in what thou wilt, and doe that with a slender twist, that none can doe with a tough wyth. As for my being with Camilla, good Euphues, rubbe there no more, least I winch, for deny I wil not that I am wroung on the withers.

This one thing touching my selfe I saye, and before him that seeth all things I sweare, that heereafter I wil neither dissemble to delude thee, nor pick quarrells to fall out with thee, thou shalt finde me constant to one, faithlesse to none, in prayer devout, in manners reformed, in lyfe chast, in words modest: not framing my fancie to the humour of love, but my deedes to the rule of zeale: And such a man as heere-tofore merilye thou saidest I was, but now truly thou shalt see I am, and as I know thou art.

Then Euphues appoint the place where we maye meete, and reconcile the mindes, which I confesse by mine owne follies were severed. And if ever after this, I shall seeme jealous over thee, or blynded towards my selfe, use me as I deserve, shamefully.


EUphues seeing such speedye retourne of an other aunswere, thought Philautus to be very sharp set, for to recover him, and weighing with himselfe, that often in mariages, ther have fallen out braules, wher the chiefest love should be, and yet againe reconciliations, that none ought at any time so to love, that he should finde in his heart, at any time to hate: Furthermore, casting in his minde the good he might doe to Philautus by his friendship, and the mischiefe that might ensue by his fellowes follye, aunswered him thus agayne speedely, aswell to prevent the course hee might otherwise take, as also to prescribe what way he should take.

Euphues to his friend,

NEttells Philautus have no prickells, yet they sting, and wordes have no points, yet they pearce: though out-wardlye thou protest great amendement, yet often-times the softnesse of Wooll, which the Seres sende sticketh so fast to the skinne, that when one looketh it shold keepe him warme, it fetcheth bloud, and thy smooth talke, thy sweete promises, may when I shal thinke to have them perfourmed to delight me, be a corrosive to destroy me.

But I wil not cast beyond the Moone, for that in all things I know there must be a meane.

Thou swearest nowe that thy lyfe shall be leade by my lyne, that thou wilt give no cause of offence, by thy disorders, nor take anye by my good meaning, which if it bee so, I am as willyng to bee thy friend, as I am to be mine owne.

But this take for a warning, if ever thou jarre, when thou shouldest jest, or follow thine owne will, when thou art to heare my counsayle, then will I depart from thee, and so display thee, as none that is wise shall trust thee, nor any that is honest shall lyve with thee.

I now am resolved by thy letter, of that which I was almost perswaded off, by mine owne conjecture, touching Camilla.

Why Philautus art thou so mad without acquaintaunce of thy part, or familiaritie of hirs, to attempt a thing which will not onely be a disgrace to thee, but also a discredite to hir? Thinkest thou thy selfe either worthy to wooe hir, or she willyng to wedde thee? either thou able to frame thy tale to hir content, or shee ready to give eare to thy conclusions?

No, no Philautus, thou art to young to wooe in England, though olde inough to winne in Italy, for heere they measure more the man by the qualyties of his minde, then the proportion of his body. They are too experte in love, having learned in this time of their long peace, every wrinckle that is to be seene or imagined.

It is neither an ill tale wel tolde, nor a good history made better, neither invention or new fables, nor the reciting of olde, that can eyther allure in them an appetite to love, or almost an attention to heare.

It fareth not with them as it doth with those in Italy, who preferre a sharpe wit, before sound wisdome, or a proper man before a perfect minde: they lyve not by shaddowes, nor feede of the ayre, nor luste after winde. Their love is not tyed to Art but reason, not to the precepts of Ovid, but to the perswasions of honestie.

But I cannot but mervayle at thy audacitie, that thou diddest once dare to move hir to love, whom I alwayes feared to sollicite in questioning, aswel doubting to be gravelled by hir quicke and readye witte, as to bee confuted, by hir grave and wyse aunsweres.

But thou wilt saye, she was of no great birth, of meaner parentage then thy selfe. I but Philautus they be most noble who are commended more for their perfection, then their petegree, and let this suffice thee that hir honour consisted in vertue, bewtie, witte, not bloode, auncestors, antiquitie. But more of this at our next meeting, where I thinke I shal bee merry to heere the discourse of thy madnesse, for I imagine to my selfe that shee handled thee verye hardely, considering both the place shee served in, and the person that served hir. And sure I am shee did not hang for thy mowing.

A Phoenix is no foode for Philautus, that dayntie toothe of thine must bee pulled out, els wilt thou surfette with desire, and that Eagles eye pecked out, els wilt bee daseled with delyght. My counsaile must rule thy conceipte, least thou confounde us both.

I will this evening come to thy lodging, where wee will conferre. And till then, I commende mee to thee.

Thine ever to use, if
thou be thine owne.

THis letter was so thankefully received of Philautus, that he almost ranne beyonde himselfe for joye, preparing all thinges necessary for the entertainement of his friende, who at the houre appointed fayled not.

Many embracings there were, much straunge curtesie, many pretie glaunces, being almost for the time but straungers bicause of their long absence.

But growing to questioning one with another, they fell to the whole discourse of Philautus love, who left out nothing that before I put in, which I must omitte, least I set before you, Colewortes twise sodden, whiche will both offende your eares which I seeke to delight and trouble my hande which I covet to ease.

But this I am sure that Euphues conclusion was this, betweene waking and winking, that our English Ladies and Gentlewomen were so cunning in love, that the labour were more easie in Italie to wed one and burie hir, then heere to wooe one and marrie hir. And thus they with long talking waxed wearie, wher I leave them, not willing to talke any longer, but to sleepe their fills till morning.

Now Gentlewomen I appeale in this controversie to your consciences, whether there be in you an art to love, as Euphues thinketh, or whether it breede in you as it doth in men: by sight, if one bee bewtifull, by hearing, if one be wittie, by desertes if one be curteous, by desire, if one be vertuous, which I woulde not knowe, to this intent that I might bee instructed howe to winne any of you, but to the ende I might wonder at you all: For if there be in love an arte, then doe I not mervaile to see men that everie way are to bee beloved, so oftentimes to be rejected. But so secreate is this matter, that perteyning nothing to our sex, I will not farther enquire of it, least happily in gessing what art woemen use in love, I should minister an art they never before knewe: And so in thinking to bewray the bayte that hath caught one, I give them a nette to drawe many, putting a sworde into the hande, where there is but a sheath, teaching them to strike, that put us to our tryings by warding, whiche woulde double our perrill, who without art cannot allure them, and encrease their tyrany, who with-out they torment will come to no parley.

But this I admonish you, that as your owne bewties make you not covetous of your almes towardes true lovers, so other mens flatterie make you not prodigall of your honours towardes dissemblers. Let not them that speake fairest be beleeved soonest, for true love lacketh a tongue, and is tryed by the eyes, whiche in a hearte that meaneth well, are as farre from wanton glaunces, as the minde is from idle thoughts.

And this art I will give you, which we men doe commonly practise, if you beholde any one that either your curtesie hath allured, or your beautie, or both, triumph not over him, but the more earnest you see him, the more redie be to followe him, & when he thinketh himselfe neerest, let him be farthest off: Then if he take that with patience, assure your selfe he cannot be faithlesse.

He that Angleth plucketh the bayte away when he is neere a byte, to the ende the fish may be more eager to swallowe the hooke, birds are trayned with a sweet call, but caught with a broade nette: and lovers come with fayre lookes, but are entangled with disdainfull eyes.

The Spaniel that fawneth when he is beaten, will never forsake his maister, the man that doteth when he is disdained, will never forgoe his mistres.

But too much of this string which sowndeth too much out of square, and returne we to Euphues and Philautus.

The next morning when they were rysen they went into a gallerie, where Euphues, who perceived Philautus, grievously perplexed for the love of Camilla, beganne thus betweene jest and earnest to talke with him.

PHilautus I have well nigh all this night beene disputing with my selfe of thy distresse, yet can I resolve my selfe in nothing that either may content mee, or quiet thee.

What mettall art thou made of Philautus that thinkest of nothing but love, and art rewarded with nothing lesse then love: Lucilla was too badde, yet diddest thou court hir, thy sweete heart now in Naples is none of the best, yet diddest thou follow hir, Camilla exceeding all, where thou wast to have least hope, thou hast woed not without great hazard to thy person, and griefe to mine.

I have perused hir letters which in my simple judgment are so far from alowing thy suit, that they seeme to loath thy service. I wil not flatter thee in thy follies, she is no match for thee, nor thou for hir, the one wanting living to mainteine a wife, the other birth to advance an husbande. Surius whome I remember thou diddest name in thy discourse, I remember in the court a man of great byrth and noble blood, singuler witte, & rare personage, if he go about to get credite, I muse what hope thou couldest conceive to have a good countenaunce. Well Philautus to set downe precepts against thy love, will nothing prevaile, to perswade thee to go forward, were very perillous, for I know in the one love will regarde no lawes, and in the other perswasions can purchase no libertie. Thou art too heddie to enter in where no heed can helpe one out.

Theseus woulde not goe into the Laborinth without a threede that might shew him the way out, neither any wise man enter into the crooked corners of love, unlesse he knew by what meanes he might get out. Love which should continue for ever, should not be begon in an houre, but slowly be taken in hande, and by length of time finished: resemblyng Zeuxis, that wise Painter, who in things that he would have last long, tooke greatest leasure.

I have not forgotten one Mistres Frauncis, which the Ladye Flavia gave thee for a Violet, and by thy discription, though she be not equall with Camilla, yet is she fitter for Philautus. If thy humour be such that nothing can feede it but love, cast thy minde on hir, conferre the impossibilytie thou hast to winne Camilla, with the lykelyhoode thou mayst have to enjoy thy Violet: and in this I will endeavour both my wit and my good will, so that nothing shall want in mee, that may work ease in thee. Thy violet if she be honest, is worthy of thee, beautiful thou sayst she is, & therfore too worthy: Hoat fire is not onely quenched by the cleere Fountaine, nor love onely satisfied by the faire face. Therefore in this tell me thy minde, that either we may proceede in that matter, or seeke a newe medicine. Philautus thus replyed.

OH my good Euphues, I have neither the power to forsake mine owne Camilla, nor the heart to deny thy counsaile, it is easie to fall into a Nette, but hard to get out. Notwithstanding I will goe against the haire in all things, so I may please thee in anye thing. O my Camilla. With that Euphues stayed him saying.

HE that hath sore eyes must not behold the candle, nor he that would leave his Love, fall to the remembring of his Lady, the one causeth the eye to smart, the other the heart to bleede, wel quoth Philautus, I am content to have the wounde searched, yet unwilling to have it cured, but sithens that sicke men are not to prescribe diets but to keepe them, I am redie to take potions, and if welth serve to paye thee for them, yet one thing maketh to feare, that in running after two Hares, I catch neither.

And certeinlye quoth Euphues, I knowe manye good Hunters that take more delyght to have the Hare on foote, and never catch it, then to have no crye and yet kill in the Fourm : where-by I gesse, there commeth greater delyght in the hunting, then in the eating. It may be sayd Philautus, but I were then verye unfit for such pastimes, for what sporte soever I have all the day, I love to have the game in my dish at night.


And trulye aunswered Euphues, you are worse made for a hound then a hunter, for you marre your sent with carren, before you start your game, which maketh you hunt oftentimes counter, wher-as if you had kept it pure, you might ere this time have tourned the Hare you winded, and caught the game you coursed. Why then I perceive quoth Philautus, that to talke with Gentlewomen, touching the discourses of love, to eate with them, to conferre with them, to laugh with them, is as great pleasure as to enjoye them, to the which thou mayst by some fallacie drive me, but never perswade me: For then were it as pleasaunt to behold fruit, as to eate them, or to see fayre bread, as to tast it. Thou errest Philautus, sayd Euphues, if thou be not of that minde, for he that commeth into fine gardens, is as much recreated to smell the flower, as to gather it. And many we see more delyghted with pictures, then desirous to be Painters: the effect of love is faith, not lust, delightfull conference, not detestable concupiscence, which beginneth with folly and endeth with repentaunce. For mine owne part I would wish nothing, if againe I should fall into that vaine, then to have the company of hir in common conference that I best loved, to heare hir sober talke, hir wise aunsweres, to behold hir sharpe capacitie, and to bee perswaded of hir constancie: & in these things do we only differ from brute beasts, who have no pleasure, but in sensuall appetite. You preach Heresie, quoth Philautus, and besides so repugnant to the text you have taken, that I am more ready to pull thee out of thy Pulpit, than to beleeve thy gloses.

I love the company of women well, yet to have them in lawfull Matrimony, I lyke much better, if thy reasons should goe as currant, then were Love no torment, for hardlye doeth it fall out with him, that is denyed the sighte and talke of his Ladye

Hungry stomackes are not to be fed with sayings against surfettings, nor thirst to be quenched with sentences against drunkennesse. To love women & never enjoy them, is as much as to love wine, & never tast it, or to be delighted with faire apparel, & never weare it. An idle love is that, and fit for him that hath nothing but eares, that is satisfied to heare hir speak, nor desirous to have himselfe speede. When then Euphues, to have the picture of his Lady, is as much, as to enjoy hir presence, and to reade hir letters of as great force as to heare hir aunsweres: which if it be, my suite in love should be as much to the painter to draw hir with an amyable face, as to my Lady to write an amorous letter, both which, with little suite being obteined, I may lyve with love, and never wet my foot, nor breake my sleepes, nor wast my money, nor torment my minde.

But this worketh as much delyght in the minde of a lover, as the Apples that hang at Tantalus nose, or the River that runneth close by his chinne.

And in one word, it would doe me no more good, to see my Lady and not embrace hir, in the heate of my desire, then to see fire, and not warme me in the extremitie of my colde.

No, no Euphues, thou makest Love nothing but a continual wooing, if thou barre it of the effect, and then is it infinite, or if thou allow it, and yet forbid it, a perpetuall warfare, and then is it intollerable.

From this opinion no man shall with-drawe mee, that the ende of fishing is catching, not anglyng: of birding, taking, not whistlyng: of love, wedding, not wooing. Other-wise it is no better then hanging.

Euphues smilyng to see Philautus so earnest, urged him againe, in this manner.

WHy Philautus, what harme were it in love, if the heart should yeelde his right to the eye, or the fancie his force to the eare. I have read of many, & some I know, betweene whom there was as fervent affection as might be, that never desired any thing, but sweete talke, and continuall company at bankets, at playes, and other assemblyes, as Phrigius and Pieria, whose constant faith was such that there was never word nor thought of any uncleannesse. Pigmalion loved his Ivory Image, being enamoured onely by the sight, & why should not the chast love of others, be builded rather in agreeing in hevenly meditations, then temporall actions. Beleeve me Philautus, if thou knewest what it were to love, thou wouldest bee as farre from the opinion thou holdest, as I am.

Philautus thinking no greater absurditie to be held in the world then this, replyed before the other coulde ende, as followeth.


IN deede Euphues, if the King would resigne his right to his Legate, then were it not amisse for the heart to yeelde to the eyes. Thou knowest Euphues that the eye is the messenger of love, not the Master, that the eare is the caryer of newes, the hearte the disgester. Besides this suppose one have neither eares to heare his Ladie speake, nor eyes to see hir beautie, shall he not therefore be subject to the impression of love. If thou aunswere no, I can alledge divers both deafe and blinde that have beene wounded, if thou graunt it, then confesse the heart must have his hope, which is neither seeing nor hearing, and what is the thirde?

Touching Phrigius & Pieria, thinke them both fooles in this, for he that keepeth a Hen in his house to cackle and not lay, or a Cocke to crowe and not to treade, is not unlike unto him that having sowen his wheat never reapeth it, or reaping it never threasheth it, taking more pleasure to see faire corne, then to eate fine bread: Pigmalion maketh against this, for Venus seeing him so earnestly to love, & so effectually to pray, graunted him his request, which had he not by importunate suit obtained, I doubt not but he would rather have hewed hir in peeces then honoured hir with passions, & set hir up in some Temple for an image, not kept hir in his house for a wife. He that desireth onely to talke and viewe without any farther suit, is not farre different from him, that liketh to see a paynted rose better then to smell to a perfect Violet, or to heare a birde singe in a bush, rather then to have hir at home in his owne cage.

This will, I followe, that to pleade for love and request nothing but lookes, and to deserve workes, and live only by words, is as one should plowe his ground & never sowe it, grinde his coulours and never paint, saddle his horse and never ryde.

As they were thus communing there came from the Ladie Flavia a Gentleman who invited them both that night to supper, which they with humble thankes given promised to doe so, and till supper time I leave them debating their questions.

Nowe Gentlewomen in this matter I woulde I knewe your mindes, and yet I can somewhat gesse at your meaninges, if any of you shoulde love a Gentleman of such perfection as you can wish, woulde it content you onely to heare him, to see him daunce, to marke his personage, to delight in his witte, to wonder at all his qualities, and desire no other solace? If you like to heare his pleasant voyce to sing, his fine fingers to play, his proper personage to undertake any exployt, woulde you covet no more of your love? As good it were to be silent and thinke no, as to blushe and say I.

I must needes conclude with Philautus, though I shoulde cavill with Euphues, that the ende of love is the full fruition of the partie beloved, at all times and in all places. For it cannot followe in reason, that bicause the sauce is good which shoulde provoke myne appetite, therefore I shoulde for-sake the meate for which it was made. Beleeve me the qualities of the minde, the bewtie of the bodie, either in man or woman, are but the sauce to whette our stomakes, not the meate to fill them. For they that live by the vew of beautie stil looke very leane, and they that feede onely upon vertue at boorde, will goe with an hungry belly to bedde.

But I will not crave herein your resolute aunswere, bicause betweene them it was not determined, but every one as he lyketh, and then --!

Euphues and Philautus being nowe againe sent for to the Lady Flavia hir house, they came presently, where thy founde the worthy Gentleman Surius, Camilla, Mistres Frauncis, with many other Gentlemen and Gentlewomen.

At their first entrance doing their duetie, they saluted all the companie, and were welcommed.

The Lady Flavia entertayned them both very lovingly, thanking Philautus for his last company, saying be merry Gentleman, at this time of the yeare a Violette is better then a Rose, and so shee arose and went hir way, leaving Philautus in a muse at hir wordes, who before was in a maze at Camillas lookes. Camilla came to Euphues in this manner.

I am sory Euphues that we have no greene Rushes, considering you have beene so great a straunger, you make me almost to thinke that of you which commonly I am not accustomed to judge of any, that either you thought your selfe too good, or our cheere too badde, other cause of absence I cannot imagine, unlesse seing us very idle, you sought meanes to be well imployed, but I pray you hereafter be bolde, and those thinges which were amisse shall be redressed, for we will have Quailes to amende your commons, and some questions to sharpen your wittes, so that you shall neither finde faulte with your dyot for the grosenesse, nor with your exercise for the easinesse. As for your fellowe and friende Philautus we are bounde to him, for he would oftentimes see us, but seldome eate with us, which made us thinke that he cared more for our company, then our meat.

Euphues as one that knewe his good, aunswered hir in this wise.

Fayre Ladye, it were unseemely to strewe grene rushes for his comming, whose companie is not worth a strawe, or to accompt him a straunger whose boldenesse hath bin straunge to all those that knew him to be a straunger.

The smal abilitie in me to requite, compared with the great cheere I received, might happlie make me refraine which is contrary to your conjecture: Neither was I ever so busied in any weightie affaires, whiche I accompted not as lost time in respect of the exercise I alwayes founde in your company, whiche maketh me thinke that your latter objection proceeded rather to convince mee for a treuant, then to manyfest a trueth.

As for the Quailes you promise me, I can be content with beefe, and for the questions they must be easie, els shall I not aunswere them, for my wit will shew with what grosse diot I have beene brought up, so that conferring my rude replyes with my base birth, you will thinke that meane cheare will serve me, and resonable questions deceive me, so that I shall neither finde fault for my repast, nor favour for my reasons. Philautus in deede taketh as much delight in good companie as in good cates, who shall answere for him-selfe, with that Philautus saide.

Truely Camilla where I thinke my selfe welcome I love to bee bolde, and when my stomake is filled I care for no meat, so that I hope you will not blame if I came often and eate little.

I doe not blame you by my faith quoth Camilla, you mistake mee, for the oftener you come the better welcome, and the lesse you eate, the more is saved.

Much talke passed which being onely as it were a repetition of former thinges, I omitte as superfluous, but this I must note, that Camilla earnestly desired Surius to be acquainted with Euphues, who very willingly accomplished hir request, desiring Euphues for the good report he had harde of him, that he woulde be as bolde with him, as with any one in Englande, Euphues humbly shewing his duetie, promised also as occasion should serve, to trye him.

It now grew toward Supper time, when the table being covered, and the meate served in, Ladye Flavia placed Surius over against Camilla and Philautus next Mistres Frauncis, she tooke Euphues and the rest, & placed them in such order, as she thought best. What cheere they had I know not, what talke they used, I heard not: but Supper being ended, they sate still, the Lady Flavia speaking as followeth.

GEntlemen and Gentlewomen these Lenten Evenings be long, and a shame it were to goe to bedde: colde they are, and therefore follye it were to walke abroad: to play at Cardes is common, at Chestes tedious, at Dice unseemely, with Christmasse games, untimely. In my opinion therefore, to passe awaye these long nights, I would have some pastime that might be pleasaunt, but not unprofitable, rare, but not without reasoning: so shall we all accompt the Evening well spent, be it never so long, which other-wise would be tedious, were it never so short.

Sirius the best in the companye, and therefore best worthy to aunswere, and the wisest, and therefore best able, replyed in this manner.

GOod Madame, you have prevented my request with your owne, for as the case now standeth, there can be nothing either more agreeable to my humour, or these Gentlewomens desires, then to use some discourse, aswell to renue olde traditions, which have bene heertofore used, as to encrease friendship, which hath bene by the meanes of certeine odde persons defaced. Every one gave his consent with Surius, yeelding the choyce of that nights pastime, to the discretion of the Ladie Flavia who thus proposed hir minde.

Your taske Surius shall be to dispute wyth Camilla, and chose your owne argumente, Philautus shall argue with mistresse Frauncis, Martius with my selfe. And all having finished their discourses, Euphues shal be as judge, who hath done best, and whatsoever he shal allot eyther for reward, to the worthiest, or for penance to the worst, shal be presently accomplished. This liked them all exceedingly. And thus Surius with a good greace, and pleasaunt speache, beganne to enter the listes with Camilla.

FAire Ladie, you know I flatter not, I have reade that the sting of an Aspe were incurable, had not nature given them dimme eyes, & the beautie of a woman, no lesse infectious, had not nature bestowed upon them gentle hearts, which maketh me ground my reason upon this common place, that beautiful women are ever mercifull, if mercifull, vertuous, if vertuous, constant, if constant, though no more than goddesses, yet no lesse than Saintes, all these things graunted, I urge my question without condition.

If Camilla, one wounded with your beautie (for under that name I comprehende all other vertues) shold sue to open his affection, serve to trie it, and drive you to so narrow a point, that were you never so incredulous, he should prove it, yea so farre to be from suspition of deceite, that you would confesse he were cleare from distrust, what aunsweare woulde you make if you gave your consent, or what excuse if you deny hys curtesie.

Camilla who desired nothing more than to be questioning with Surius, with a modest countenaunce, yet somewhat bashefull (which added more commendation to hir speache then disgrace) replyed in thys manner.

THough ther be no cause noble gentleman to suspect an injurie where a good turne hath bene receyved, yet is it wisdome to be carefull, what aunswere bee made, where the question is difficult.

I have hearde that the Torteise in India when the Sunne shineth, swimmeth above the water wyth hyr back, and being delighted with the faire weather, forgetteth hir selfe untill the heate of the Sunne so harden hir shell, that she cannot sincke when she woulde, whereby she is caught. And so maye it fare with me, that in this good companye, displaying my minde, having more regarde to my delight in talkyng, then to the eares of the hearers, I forget what I speake and so be taken in some thing, I shoulde not utter, whiche happilye the itchyng eares of young gentlemen woulde so canvas, that when I woulde call it in, I cannot, and so be caughte with the Torteise, when I would not.

Therefore if any thing be spoken eyther unwares or unjustly, I am to crave pardon for both: havyng but a weake memorie, and a worse witte, which you can not denye me, for that we saye, women are to be borne withall if they offende againste theyr wylles, and not muche to be blamed, if they trip with theyr willes, the one proceeding of forgetfulnesse, the other, of their natural weakenesse, but to the matter.

IF my beautie (whiche God knowes how simple it is) shoulde entangle anye with desyre, then shold I thus thinke, that either he were enflamed with lust rather then love (for that he is moved by my countenance not enquiring of my conditions,) or els that I gave some occasion of lightnesse, bicause he gathereth a hope to speede, where he never had the heart to speake. But if at the last I should perceive, that his faith were tried lyke golde in the fire, that his affection proceedeth from a minde to please, not from a mouth to delude, then would I either aunswer his love with lyking, or weane him from it by reason. For I hope sir you will not thinke this, but that there should be in a woman aswell as tongue to deny, as in a man to desire, that as men have reason to lyke for beautie, where they love, so women have wit to refuse for sundry causes, where they love not.

Other-wise were we bounde to such an inconvenience, that whosoever served us, we should aunswere his suite, when in every respect we mislyke his conditions, so that Nature might be sayd to frame us for others humours not for our owne appetites. Wherein to some we should be thought very courteous, but to the most scarce honest. For mine owne part if ther be any thing in me to be lyked of any, I thinke it reason to bestow on such a one,, as hath also somewhat to content me, so that where I knowe my selfe loved, and doe love againe, I would uppon just tryall of his constancie, take him.

Surius with-out any stoppe or long pause, replyed presently.

LAdy if the Torteyse you spake off in India, wer as cunning in swimming, as you are in speaking, hee would neither fear the heate of the Sunne, nor the ginne of the Fisher. But that excuse was brought in, rather to shewe what you could say, then to crave pardon, for that you have sayd. But to your aunswere.

What your beautie is, I will not heere dispute, least either your modest eares shoulde glowe to heare your owne prayses, or my smoth tongue trippe in being curious to your perfection, so that what I cannot commende sufficiently, I will not cease continually to mervaile at. You wander in one thing out of the way, where you say that many are enflamed with the countenance, not enquiring of the conditions, when this position was before grounded, that there was none beautifull, but she was also mercifull, and so drawing by the face of hir bewtie all other morrall vertues, for as one ring being touched with the Loadstone draweth another, and that his fellow, til it come to a chaine, so a Lady endewed with bewtie, pulleth on curtesie, curtesie mercy, and one vertue linkes it selfe to another, untill there be a rare perfection.

Besides touching your owne lightnesse, you must not imagine that love breedeth in the heart of man by your lookes, but by his owne eyes, neyther by your wordes when you speake wittily, but by his owne eares, which conceive aptly. So that were you dumbe and coulde not speak, or blinde and coulde not see, yet shoulde you be beloved, which argueth plainely, that the eye of the man is the arrow, the bewtie of the woman the white, which shooteth not, but receiveth, being the patient, not the agent: uppon triall you confesse you woulde trust, but what triall you require you conceale, whiche maketh me suspect that either you woulde have a triall without meane, or without end, either not to bee sustained being impossible, or not to be fynished being infinite. Wherein you would have one runne in a circle, where there is no way out, or builde in the ayre, where there is no meanes howe.

This triall Camilla must be sifted to narrower pointes, least in seeking to trie your lover like a Jenet, you tyre him like a Jade.

Then you require this libertie (which truely I can not denie you) that you may have the choyce as well to refuse, as the man hath to offer, requiring by that reason some quallities in the person you would bestow your love on: yet craftily hyding what properties eyther please you best, or like woemen well: where-in againe you move a doubt, whether personage, or welth, or witte, or all are to be required: so that what with the close tryall of his fayth, and the subtill wishinge of his quallities, you make eyther your Lover so holy, that for fayth hee must be made all of trueth, or so exquisite that for shape hee must be framed in wax: which if it be your opinion, the beautie you have will be withered before you be wedded, and your wooers good old Gentlemen before theybe speeders.

Camilla not permitting Surius to leape over the hedge, which she set for to keepe him in, with a smiling countenaunce shaped him this aunswer.

IF your position be graunted, that where beautie is, there is also vertue, then myght you adde that where a fayre flower is, there is also a sweete savour, which how repugnant it is to our common experience, there is none but knoweth, and how contrary the other is to trueth, there is one but seeth. Why then do you not set downe this for a rule which is as agreeable to reason, that Rhodope beeing beautifull (if a good complection and fayre favour be tearmed beautie) was also vertuous? that Lais excelling was also honest? that Phrine surpassing them both in beautie, was also curteous? But it is a reason among your Philosophers, that the disposition of the minde, followeth the composition of the body, how true in arguing it maye bee, I knowe not, how false in tryall it is, who knoweth not? Beautie, though it bee amiable, worketh many things contrarye to hir fayre shewe, not unlyke unto Sylver, which beeing white, draweth blacke lynes, or resembling the tall trees in Ida which allured many to rest in them under their shadow, and then infected them with their sent.

Nowe where-as you sette downe, that love commeth not from the eyes of the woeman, but from the glaunces of the man (under correction be it spoken) it is as farre from the trueth, as the head from the toe. For were a Lady blinde, in what can she be beautifull? if dumbe, in what manifest hir witte? when as the eye hath ever bene thought the Pearle of the face, and the tongue the Ambassadour of the heart? If ther were such a Ladie in this company, Surius, that should wincke with both eyes when you would have hir see your amorous lookes, or be no blabbe of hir tongue, when you would have aunswere of your questions, I can-not thinke, that eyther hir vertuous conditions, or hir white and read complection coulde move you to love.

Although this might somwhat procure your liking, that doing what you lyst shee will not see it, and speaking what you would, she will not utter it, two notable vertues and rare in our sex, patience and silence.

But why talke I about Ladyes that have no eies, when there is no manne that will love them if hee him-selfe have eyes. More reason there is to wooe one that is doumbe, for that she can-not deny your suite, and yet having eares to heare, she may as well give an answer with a signe, as a sentence. But to the purpose.

Love commeth not from him that loveth, but from the partie loved, els must hee make his love uppon no cause, and then it is lust, or thinke him-selfe the cause, and then it is no love. Then must you conclude thus, if there bee not in woemen the occasion, they are fooles to trust men that praise them, if the cause bee in them, then are not men wise to arrogate it to themselves.

It is the eye of the women that is made of Adamant, the heart of the man that is framed of yron, and I cannot thinke you wil say that the vertue attractive is in the yron which is drawen by force, but in the Adamant that searcheth it perforce.

And this is the reason that many men have beene entangled against their wils with love, and kept in it with their wills.

You know Surius that the fire is in the flinte that is striken, not in the steele that striketh, the light in the Sunne that lendeth, not in the Moone that boroweth, the love in the woman that is served, not in the man that sueth.

The similitude you brought in of the arrowe, flewe nothing right to beautie, wherefore I must shute that shafte at your owne brest. For if the eye of man be the arrow, & beautie the white (a faire mark for him that draweth in cupids bow) then must it necessarily ensue, that the archer desireth with an ayme to hitte the white, not the white the arrowe, that the marke allureth the archer, not the shooter the marke, and therfore is Venus saide in one eye to have two Apples, which is commonly applied to those that witch with the eyes, not to those that wooe with their eyes.

Touching tryall, I am neither so foolish to desire thinges impossible, nor so frowarde to request that which hath no ende. But wordes shall never make me beeleeve without workes, least in following a faire shadowe, I loose the firme substance, and in one worde to set downe the onely triall that a Ladie requireth of hir lover, it is this, that he performe as much as he sware, that every othe be a deede, every gloase a gospell, promising nothing in his talke, that he performe not in his triall.

The qualities that are required of the minde are good conditions, as temperance not to exceede in dyot, chastitie not to sinne in desire, constancie not to covet chaunge, witte to delight, wisdome to instruct, myrth to please without offence, and modestie to governe without presisenes.

Concerning the body, as there is no Gentlewoman so curious to have him in print, so is there no one so careles to have him a wretch, onlye his right shape to shew him a man, his Christendom to prove his faith, indifferent wealth to maintaine his family, expecting al things necessary, nothing superfluous. And to conclude with you Surius, unlesse I might have such a one, I had as leave be buried as maried, wishing rather to have no beautie and dye a chast virgin, then no joy and live a cursed wife.

Surius as one daunted having little to aunswere, yet delighted to heare hir speak, with a short speech uttered these words.

I Perceive Camilla, that be your cloath never so badde, it will take some colour, & your cause never so false, it will beare some shew of probabilytie, wherein you manifest the right nature of a woman, who having no way to winne, thinketh to overcome with words. This I gather by your aunswere, that beautie may have faire leaves, & foule fruite, that al that are amiable are not honest, that love proceedeth of the womans perfection, and the mans follies, that the triall loked for, is to performe whatsoever they promise, that in minde he be vertuous, in bodye comelye, suche a husband in my opinion is to be wished for, but not looked for. Take heede Camilla, that seeking al the Woode for a streight sticke you chuse not at the last a crooked staffe, or prescribing a good counsaile to others, thou thy selfe follow the worst: much lyke to Chius, who selling the best wine to others, drank him selfe of the lees.

Truly quoth Camilla, my Wooll was blacke, and therefore it could take no other colour, and my cause good, and therefore admitteth no cavill: as for the rules I set downe of love, they were not coyned of me, but learned, and being so true, beleeved. If my fortune bee so yll that serching for a wande, I gather a camocke, or selling wine to other, I drinke vineger my selfe, I must be content, that of the worst poore helpe patience, which by so much the more is to be borne, by howe much the more it is perforce.

As Surius was speaking, the Ladie Flavia prevented him, saying, it is time that you breake off your speach, least we have nothing to speak, for should you wade anye farther, you woulde both waste the night and leave us no time, and take our reasons, and leave us no matter, that every one therefore, may say some what, we commaunde you to cease, that you have both sayd so well, we give you thankes. Thus letting Surius and Camilla to whisper by themselves (whose talke we wil not heare) the Lady began in this manner to greet Martius.

We see Martius that where young folkes are they treat of love, when souldiers meete they conferre of warre, painters of their coulours. Musitians of their crochets, and every one talketh of that most he liketh best. Which seeing it is so, it behoveth us that have more yeres, to have more wisdome, not to measure our talk by the affections we have had, but by those we should have.

In this therefore I woulde know thy minde whether it be convenient for women to haunt such places where Gentlemen are, or for men to have accesse to gentlewomen, which me thinketh in reason cannot be tollerable, knowing that there is nothing more pernicious to either, then love, & that love breedeth by nothing sooner then lookes. They that feare water will come neere no wells, they that stande in dreade of burning flye from the fire: and ought not they that woulde not be entangled with desire to refraine company? If love have the panges which the passionate set downe, why do they not abstaine from the cause? if it be pleasant why doe they dispraise it.

We shunne the place of pestilence for feare of infection, the eyes of Catoblepas, bicause of diseases, the sight of the Basilisk, for dreade of death, and shall wee not eschewe the companie of them that may entrappe us in love, which is more bitter then any distruction?

If we flye theeves that steale our goods, shall we followe murtherers that cut our throates? If we be heedie to come where Waspes be, least we be stong, shal wee hazarde to runne where Cupid is, where we shall bee stifeled? Truely Martius in my opinion there is nothing either more repugnant to reason, or abborring from nature, then to seeke that we shoulde shunne, leaving the cleare streame to drinke of the muddye ditch, or in the extremitie of heate to lye in the parching Sunne, when he may sleepe in the colde shadow or being free from fancy, to seeke after love, which is as much as to coole a hott Liver with strong wine, or to cure a weake stomake with raw flesh. In this I would heare thy sentence, induced the rather to this discourse, for that Surius and Camilla have begunne it, then that I like it: Love in mee hath neither power to commaunde, nor perswasion to entreate. Which how idle a thing it is, and how pestilent to youth, I partly knowe, and you I am sure can gesse.

Martius not very young to discourse of these matters, yet desirous to utter his minde, whether it were to flatter Surius in his will, or to make triall of the Ladies witte: Began thus to frame his aunswere.

MAdame, ther is in Chio the Image of Diana, which to those that enter seemeth sharpe and sower, but returning after their suites made, loketh with a merrie and pleasaunt countenaunce. And it maye bee that at the entraunce of my discourse yee will bende your browes as one displeased, but hearing my proofe, be delighted and satisfied.

The question you move, is whether it be requisite, that Gentlemen and Gentlewomen should meete. Truly among Lovers it is convenient to augment desire, amongst those that are firme, necessary to maintaine societie. For to take away all meeting for feare of love, were to kindle amongst all: the fire of hate. There is greater daunger Madame, by absence, which breedeth melancholy, then by presence, which engendreth affection.

If the sight be so perillous, that the company shold be barred, why then admit you those to see banquets, that may there-by surfet, or suffer them to eate their meate by a candle that have sore eyes? To be seperated from one I love, would make me more constant, and to keepe company with hir I love not, would not kindle desire. Love commeth as well in at the eares, by the report of good conditions, as in at the eyes by the amiable countenaunce, which is the cause, that divers have loved those they never saw, & seene those they never loved.

You alleadge that those that feare drowning, come neere no wells, nor they that dread burning, neere no fire. Why then let them stand in doubt also to washe their handes in a shallow brooke, for that Serapus fallying into a channell was drowned: & let him that is colde never warme his hands, for that a sparke fell into the eyes of Actina, whereoff she dyed. Let none come into the companye of women, for that divers have bene allured to love, and being refused, have used vyolence to them-selves.

Let this be set downe for a law, that none walke abroad in the daye but men, least meeting a beautifull woman, he fall in love, and loose his lybertie.

I thinke Madam you will not be so precise, to cut off al conferrence, bicause love commeth by often communication, which if you do, let us all now presentlye departe, least in seeing the beautie which daseleth our eies, and hearing the wisdom which tickleth our ears, we be enflamed with love.

But you shall never beate the Flye from the Candell though he burne, nor the Quaile from Hemlocke though it bee poyson, nor the Lover from the companye of his Lady though it be perillous.

It falleth out sundry tymes, that company is the cause to shake off love, working the effects of the roote Rubarbe, which beeinge full of choler, purgeth choler, or of the Scorpions sting, which being full of poyson, is a remedy for poyson.

But this I conclude, that to barre one that is in love of the companye of his lady, maketh him rather madde, then mortified, for him to refraine that never knewe love, is eyther to suspect him of folly with-out cause, or the next way for him to fall into folly when he knoweth the cause.

A Lover is like the hearb Heliotropium, which alwaies enclyneth to that place where the Sunne shineth, and being deprived of the Sunne, dieth. For as Lunaris hearbe, as long as the Moone waxeth, bringeth forth leaves, and in the waining shaketh them of : so a Lover whilst he is in the company of his Lady, wher al joyes encrease, uttereth manye pleasaunt conceites, but banyshed from the sight of his Mistris, where all mirth decreaseth, eyther lyveth in Melancholie, or dieth with desperation.

The Lady Flavia speaking in his cast, proceedeth in this manner.

TRuely Martius I had not thought that as yet your coltes tooth stucke in your mouth, or that so olde a trewant in love, could hether-to remember his lesson. You seeme not to inferre that it is requisite they should meete, but being in love that is is convenient, least falling into a mad moode, they pine in their owne pevishnesse. Why then let it follow, that the Drunckarde which surfeiteth with wine be alwayes quaffing, bicause hee liketh it, or the Epicure which glutteth himselfe with meate be ever eating, for that it contenteth him, not seeking at any time the meanes to redresse their vices, but to renue them. But it fareth with the Lover as it doth with him that powreth in much wine, who is ever more thirstie, then he that drinketh moderately, for having once tasted the delightes of love, he desireth most the thing that hurteth him most, not laying a playster to the wounde, but a corasive.

I am of this minde, that if it bee daungerous, to laye Flaxe to the fyre, Salte to the eyes, Sulphure to the nose, that then it can-not bee but perillous to let one Lover come in presence of the other. Surius over-hearing the Lady, and seeing hir so earnest, although hee were more earnest in his suite to Camilla, cut hir off with these wordes.

GOod Madame give mee leave eyther to departe, or to speake, for in trueth you gall me more with these tearmes, then you wist, in seeming to inveigh so bitterly against the meeting of Lovers, which is the onely Marrow of love, and though I doubt not but that Martius is sufficiently armed to aunswere you, yet would I not have those reasons refelled, which I loath to have repeated. It maye be you utter them not of malice you beare to love, but only to move controversie where ther is no question: For if thou envie to have Lovers meete, why did you graunt us, if allow it, why seeke you to seperate us?

The good Lady could not refraine from laughter, when she saw Surius so angry, who in the middest of his own tale, was troubled with hirs, whome she thus againe aunswered.

I crye you mercie Gentleman, I had not thought to have catched you, when I fished for an other, but I perceive now that with one beane it is easie to gette two Pigions, and with one baight to have divers bites. I see that others maye gesse where the shooe wringes, besides him that weares it. Madame quoth Surius you have caught a Frog, if I be not deceived, and therfore as good it were not to hurt him, as not to eate him, but if all this while you angled to have a bytte at a Lover, you should have used no bitter medicines, but pleasaunt baightes.

I can-not tell answered Flavia, whether my baight were bytter or not, but sure I am I have the fishe by the gill, that doth mee good. Camilla not thinking to be silent, put in hir spoke as she thought into the best wheele, saying.

Lady your cunning maye deceive you in fishing with an Angle, therfore to catch him you would have, you were best to use a net. A net quoth Flavia, I neede none, for my fishe playeth in a net already, with that Surius beganne to winche, replying immediately, so doth manye a fishe good Ladye that slyppeth out, when the Fysher thinketh him fast in, and it may be, that eyther your nette is too weake to houlde him, or your hand too wette. A wette hand quoth Flavia will holde a dead Hearing: I quoth Surius, but Eeles are not Hearinges, but Lovers are, sayde Flavia.

Surius not willing to have the grasse mowne, where-of hee meant to make his haye, beganne thus to conclude.

GOod Lady leave off fishing for this time, & though it bee Lent, rather breake a statute which is but penall, then sew a pond that maye be perpetuall. I am content quoth Flavia rather to fast for once, then to want a pleasure for ever: yet Surius betwixte us two, I will at large prove, that there is nothinge in love more venemous then meeting, which filleth the mind with grief & the body with deseases: for having the one, hee can-not fayle of the other. But now Philautus and Neece Frauncis, since I am cut off, beginne you: but be shorte, bicause the time is short, and that I was more short then I would.

Frauncis who was ever of witte quicke, and of nature pleasaunt, seeing Philautus all this while to be in his dumpes, beganne thus to playe with him.

GEntleman either you are musing who shal be your seconde wife, or who shall father your first childe, els would you not all this while hang your head, neither attending to the discourses that you have hard, nor regarding the company you are in: or it may be (which of both conjectures is likeliest) that hearing so much talke of love, you are either driven to the remembrance of the Italian Ladyes which once you served, or els to the service of those in Englande which you have since your comming seene, for as Andromache when so ever she saw the Tombe of Hector coulde not refraine from weeping, or as Laodamia could never beholde the picture of Protesilaus in wax, but she alwayes fainted, so lovers when-soever they viewe the image of their Ladies, though not the same substance, yet the similitude in shadow, they are so benummed in their joints, and so bereft of their wittes, that they have neither the power to move their bodies to shew life, nor their tongues to make aunswere, so that I thinking that with your other sences, you had also lost your smelling, thought rather to be a thorne, whose point might make you feele somewhat, then a Violet whose savour could cause you to smell nothing.

Philautus seing this Gentlewoman so pleasantly disposed, replyed in this manner.

GEntlewoman, to studie for a seconde wife, before I knowe my first, were to resemble the good Huswife in Naples, who tooke thought to bringe forth hir chikens before she had Hens to lay Egs, & to muse who should father my first childe, wer to doubt when the cowe is mine, who should owe the calfe. But I will neither be so hastie to beate my braines about two wives, before I knowe where to get one, nor so jelous to mistrust hir fidelitie when I have one. Touching the view of Ladies or the remembrance of my loves, me thinketh it should rather sharpe the poynt in me then abate the edge. My sences are not lost though my labour bee, and therefore my good Violet, pricke not him forwarde with sharpenesse, whom thou shouldest rather comfort with savours. But to put you out of doubt that my witts were not al this while a wol-gathering, I was debating with my selfe, whether in love it were better to be constant, bewraying all the counsailes, or secreat being ready every hour to flinch: And so many reasons came to confirme either, that I coulde not be resolved of any. To be constant what thing more requisite in love, when it shall alwayes be greene like the Ivie, though the Sun parch it, that shal ever be hard like the true Diamond, though the hammer beate it, that still groweth with the good vine, though the knife cut it. Constancy is like unto the Storke, who wheresoever she flye commeth into no neast but hir owne, or the Lapwinge, whom nothing can drive from hir young ones, but death: But to reveale the secreats of love, the counsailes, the conclusions, what greater dispite to his Ladie, or more shamefull discredite to himselfe, can be immagined, when there shall no letter passe but it shalbee disclosed, no talke uttered but it shall bee againe repeated, nothing done but it shall be revealed: Which when I considered, mee thought it better to have one that shoulde be secreate though fickle, then a blab though constant.

For what is there in the worlde that more deliteth a lover then secrecie, whiche is voyde of feare, without suspition, free from envie: the onely hope a woeman hath to builde both hir honour and honestie uppon.

The tongue of a lover should be like the poynt in the Diall, which though it go, none can see it going, or a young tree which though it growe, none can perceive it growing, having alwayes the stone in their mouth which the Cranes use when they flye over mountaines, least they make a noyse. But to bee sylent, and lyghtly to esteeme of his Ladye, to shake hir off though he be secreat, to chaunge for everything though he bewray nothing, is the onely thing that cutteth the heart in peeces of a true and constant lover, which deepely waying with my selfe, I preferred him that woulde never remove, though he reveiled all, before him that woulde conceale all, and ever bee slyding. Thus wafting to and fro, I appeale to you my good Violet, whether in love be more required secrecie, or constancy.

Frauncis with hir accustomable boldnes, yet modestly, replyed as followeth.

GEntleman if I shoulde aske you whether in the making of a good sworde, yron were more to bee required, or steele, sure I am you woulde aunswere that both were necessarie: Or if I shoulde be so curious to demaunde whether in a tale tolde to your Ladyes, disposition or invention be most convenient, I cannot thinke but you woulde judge them both expedient, for as one mettall is to be tempored with another in fashioning a good blade, least either, being all of steele it quickly breake, or all of yron it never cutte, so fareth it in speach, which if it be not seasoned as well with witte to move delight, as with art, to manifest cunning, there is no eloquence, and in no other manner standeth it with love, for to be secreate and not constant, or constant and not secret, were to builde a house of mortar without stones, or a wall of stones without mortar.

There is no lively picture drawen with one colour, no curious Image wrought with one toole, no perfect Musike played with one string, and wouldest thou have love, the patterne of eternitie, couloured either with constancie alone, or onely secrecie?

There must in every triangle be three lines, the first beginneth, the seconde augmenteth, the third concludeth it a figure. So in love three vertues, affection which draweth the heart, secrecie which increaseth the hope, constancie, which finish the worke: without any of these lynes there can be no triangle, without any of these vertues, no love.

There is no man that runneth with one legge, no birde that flyeth with one winge, no love that lasteth with one lym. Love is likened to the Emerald which cracketh rather then consenteth to any disloyaltie, and can there be any greater villany then being secreat, not to be constant or being constant not to be secret. But it falleth out with those that being constant are yet full of bable, as it doth with the serpent Jaculus & the Viper, who burst with their owne brood, as these are torne with their owne tongues.

It is no question Philautus to aske which is best, when being not joyned there is never a good. If thou make a question where there is no doubt, thou must take an aunswere, where there is no reason. Why then also doest thou not enquire whether it were better for a horse to want its foreleggs or his hinder, when having not all he cannot travell: why art thou not inquisitive, whether it were more convenient for the wrastlers in the games of Olympia to be without armes or without feete, or for trees to want rootes or lacke tops when either is impossible? Ther is no true lover beleeve me Philautus, sence telleth me so, not triall, that hath not faith, secrecie, and constancie. If thou want either it is lust, no love, and that thou hast not them all, thy profound question assureth me: which if thou diddest aske to trie my wit, thou thoughtest me very dull, if thou resolve thy selfe of a doubt, I cannot thinke thee very sharpe.

Philautus that perceived hir to be so sharp, thought once againe like a whetston to make hir sharper, and in these wordes returned his aunswere.

MY sweete violet, you are not unlike unto those, who having gotten the startte in a race, thinke none to bee neere their heeles, bicause they be formost: For having the tale in your mouth, you imagine it is all trueth, and that none can controll it.

Frauncis who was not willing to heare him goe forward in so fond an argument, cut him off before he should come to his conclusion.

GEntle-man, the faster you runne after me, the farther you are from me: therefore I would wish you to take heede, that in seeking to strik at my heeles, you trippe not up your owne. You would faine with your witte cast a white upon blacke, where-in you are not unlike unto those, that seing their shadow very short in the Sunne, thinke to touch their head with their heele, and putting forth their legge are farther from it, then when they stoode still. In my opinion it were better to sit on the ground with little ease, then to ryse and fall with great daunger.

Philautus beeing in a maze to what end this talke should tende, thought that eyther Camilla had made hir privie to his love, or that she meant by suspition to entrappe him: Therfore meaning to leave his former question, and to aunswere hir speach proceeded thus.

MIstris Frauncis, you resemble in your sayings the Painter Tamantes, in whose pictures there was ever more understoode then painted: for with a glose you seeme to shadow that, which in coulours you wil not shewe. It can-not be, my violet, that the faster I run after you, the farther I shoulde bee from you, unlesse that eyther you have wings tyed to your heeles, or I thornes thrust into mine. The last dogge oftentimes catcheth the Hare, though the fleetest turne him, the slow Snaile clymeth the tower at last, though the swift Swallowe mount it, the lasiest winneth the gole, sometimes, though the lightest be neere it. In hunting I had as liefe stand at the receite, as at the loosing, in running rather endure long with an easie amble, then leave off being out of winde, with a swifte gallop: Especially when I runne as Hippomanes did with Atlanta, who was last in the course, but first at the crowne: So that I gesse that woemen are eyther easie to be out stripped, or willing.

I seeke not to trippe at you, bicause I might so hynder you and hurt my self: for in letting your course by striking at your shorte heeles, you woulde when I should crave pardon, shew me a high instep.

As for my shadowe, I never go about to reach it, but when the Sunne is at the highest, for then is my shadowe at the shortest, so that it is not difficult to touch my head with my heele, when it lyeth almoste under my heele.

You say it is better to sit still then to aryse and fall, and I saye hee that never clymbeth for feare of falling, is like unto him that never drincketh for feare of surfeting.

If you thinke eyther the ground so slipperie, wherin I runne, that I must needes fall, or my feete so chill that I must needes founder, it maye be I will chaunge my course here-after, but I meane to ende it now: for I had rather fall out of a lowe window to the ground, then hang in midde way by a bryer.

Frauncis who tooke no little pleasure to heare Philautus talke, began to come on roundly in these tearmes.

IT is a signe Gentleman that your footemanship is better then your stomacke: for what-soever you say, me thinketh you had rather be held in a slippe, then let slippe, where-in you resemble the graye-hounde, that seeing his game, leapeth upon him that holdeth him, not running after that he is held for; or the Hawke which being cast off at a Partridge, taketh a stand to prune hir fethers, when she should take hir flight. For it seemeth you beare good will to the game you can-not play at, or will not, or dare not, where-in you imitate the Cat that leaveth the Mouse, to follow the milk-pan: for I perceive that you let the Hare go by, to hunt the Badger.

Philautus astonied at this speache, knew not which way to frame his aunswere, thinking now that shee perceived his tale to be adressed to hir, though his love were fixed on Camilla, But to rydde hir of suspition, though loth that Camilla should conceve any inckling, he played fast and loose in this manner.

Gentlewoman you mistake me very much, for I have beene better taught then fedde, and therefore I knowe how to follow my game, if it be for my gaine: For wer there two Hares to runne at, I would endeavor not to catch the first that I followed, but the last that I started: yet so as the firste shoulde not scape, nor the last be caught.

You speake contraries, quoth Frauncis, and you wil worke wonders, but take heede your cunning in hunting, make you not to loose both.

Both said Philautus, why I seeke but for one, and yet of two quoth Frauncis, you can-not tell which to follow, one runneth so fast you wil never catch hir, the other is so at the squat, you can never finde hir.

The Ladie Flavia, whether desirous to sleepe, or loth these jests should be too broad as moderator commaunded them both to silence, willing Euphues as umper in these matters, briefly to speake his minde. Camilla and Surious are yet talking, Frauncis and Philautus are not idle, yet all attentive to heare Euphues, as well for the expectation they had of his wit, as to knowe the drift of theyr discourses, who thus began the conclusion of all their speaches.

It was a lawe among the Persians, that the Musitian should not judge of the Painter, nor anye one meddle in that handy craft, where-in hee was not expert, which maketh me mervaile good Madam that you should appoynt him to be an umper in love, who never yet had skill in his lawes. For although I seemed to consent by my silence before I knewe the argument where-of you would dispute, yet hearing nothing but reasons for love, I must eyther call backe my promyse, or call in your discourses, and better it were in my opinion not to have your reasons concluded, then to have them confuted. But sure I am that neyther a good excuse will serve, where authority is rigorous, nor a bad one be hard, where necessitie compelleth. But least I be longer in breaking a web then the Spider is in weaving it, Your pardons obteyned, if I offend in sharpnesse, and your patience graunted, if molest in length, I thus beginne to conclude against you all, not as one singuler in his owne conceite, but to be tryed by your gentle constructions.

SUrius beginneth with love, which procedeth by beautie (under the whiche hee comprehendeth all other vertues) Ladye Flavia moveth a question, whether the meeting of Lovers be tollerable. Philautus commeth in with two braunches in his hande, as though there were no more leaves on that tree, asking whether constancie or secrecie be most to be required, great holde there hath beene who shoulde prove his love best, when in my opinion there is none good. But such is the vanitie of youth, that it thinketh nothing worthie either of commendation or conference, but onely love, whereof they sowe much and reape little, wherein they spende all and gaine nothing, where-by they runne into daungers before they wist, and repent their desires before they woulde. I doe not discommende honest affection, which is grounded uppon vertue as the meane, but disordinate fancie whiche is builded uppon lust as an extremitie: and lust I must tearme that which is begunne in an houre and ended in a minuit, the common love in this our age, where Ladyes are courted for beautye, not for vertue, men loved for proportion in bodie, not perfection in minde.

It fareth with lovers as with those that drinke of the ryver Gallus in Phrigia, whereof sipping moderately is a medicine, but swilling with excesse it breedeth madnesse.

Lycurgus set it downe for a lawe, that where men were commonly dronken, the vynes shoulde bee destroyed, and I am of that minde, that where youth is given to love, the meanes shoulde be removed. For as the earth wherein the Mynes of Silver and golde are hidden is profitable for no other thing but mettalles, so the heart wherein love is harboured, receiveth no other seede but affection. Lovers seeke not those thinges which are most profitable, but most pleasant, resembling those that make garlands, who choose the fayrest flowers, not the holsomest, and beeing once entangled with desire, they alwayes have the disease, not unlike the Goat, who is never without an aigue, then beeing once in, they followe the note of the Nightingale, which is saide with continual strayning to singe, to perishe in hir sweete layes, as they doe in their sugred lives: where is it possible either to eate or drinke, or walke but he shal heare some question of love? in somuch that love is become so common, that there is no artificer of so base a crafte, no clowne so simple, no begger so poore, but either talketh of love, or liveth in love, when they neither know the meanes to come by it, nor the wisedome to encrease it: And what can be the cause of these loving wormes, but onely idlenesse?

But to set downe as a moderator the true perfection of love, not like an enemie to talke of the infection, (whiche is neither the part of my office, nor pleasaunt to your eares,) this is my judgement.

True and vertuous love is to be grounded uppon Time, Reason, Favour & Vertue. Time to make trial, not at the first glaunce so to settle his minde, as though he were willing to be caught, when he might escape, but so by observation and experience, to builde and augment his desires, that he be not deceaved with beautie, but perswaded with constancie. Reason, that all his doings and proceedings seeme not to flowe from a minde enflamed with lust, but a true hart kindled with love. Favour, to delight his eyes, which are the first messengers of affection, Vertue to allure the soule for the which all thinges are to be desired.

The arguments of faith in a man, are constancie not to be removed, secrecie not to utter, securitie not to mistrust, credulitie to beleeve: in a woman patience to endure, jelousie to suspect, liberalitie to bestowe, fervency, faithfulnes, one of the which braunches if either the man want, or the woman, it may be a lyking betweene them for the time, but no love to continue for ever. Touching Surius his question whether love come from the man or the woman, it is manifest that it beginneth in both, els can it not ende in both.

To the Lady Flavias demaunde concerning companie, it is requisite they shoulde meete, and though they be hindered by divers meanes, yet is it impossible but that they will meete.

Philautus must this thinke, that constancie without secrecie availeth little, and secrecie without constancie profiteth lesse.

Thus have I good maddame according to my simple skill in love set downe my judgement, which you may at your Ladishippes pleasure correcte, for hee that never tooke the oare in hand must not think scorne to be taught. Well quoth the Lady, you can say more if you list, but either you feare to offende our eares, or to bewray your owne follies, one may easily perceive that you have bene of late in the painters shop, by the colours that sticke in your coate, but at this time I will urge nothing though I suspect somewhat.

Surius gave Euphues thanks allowing his judgment in the description of love, especially in this, that he would have a woman if she were faithful to be also jelious, which is as necessary to be required in them as constancie.

Camilla smiling saide that Euphues was deceived, for he would have saide that men should have bene jelious, and yet that had bene but superfluous, for they are never otherwise.

Philautus thinking Camilla to use that speach to girde him, for that all that night he vewed hir with a suspitious eye, answered that jelousie in a man was to be pardoned, bicause there is no difference in the looke of a lover, that can distinguish a jelious eye, from a loving.

Frauncis who thought hir part not to be the least, saide that in all thinges Euphues spake gospel saving in that he bounde a woman to patience, which is to make them fooles.

Thus every one gave his verdit, and so with thanks to the Lady Flavia, they all tooke their leave for that night. Surius went to his lodging, Euphues and Philautus to theirs, Camilla accompaned with hir women and hir wayting maide, departed to hir home, whome I meane to bring to hir chamber, leaving all the rest to their rest.

Camilla no sooner had entred in hir chamber, but she began in straunge tearmes to utter this straunge tale, hir doore being cloose shutte, and hir chamber voyded.

Ah Camilla, ah wretched wench Camilla, I perceive nowe, that when the Hoppe groweth high it must have a pole, when the Ivie spreadeth, it cleaveth to the flint, when the Vine riseth it wretheth about the Elme, when virgins wax in yeares, they follow that which belongeth to their appetites, love -- love? Yea love Camilla, the force whereof thou knowest not, and yet must endure the furie. Where is that precious herbe Panace which cureth all diseases? Or that herbe Nepenthes that procureth all delights? No no Camilla: love is not to bee cured by herbes which commeth by fancy, neither can plaisters take away the griefe, which is growen so great by perswasions. For as the stone Draconites can by no meanes be polished unless the Lapidarie burne it, so the mind of Camilla can by no meanes be cured except Surius ease it.

I see that love is not unlike unto the stone Pansura, which draweth all other stones, be they never so heavy, having in it the three rootes which they attribute to Musicke, Mirth, Melancholie, Madnesse.

I but Camilla dissemble thy love, though it shorten thy lyfe, for better it were to dye with griefe, then live with shame. The Spunge is full of water, yet is it not seene, the hearbe Adyaton though it be wet, looketh alwayes drye, and a wise Lover be she never so much tormented, behaveth hir selfe as though shee were not touched. I but fire can-not be hydden in the flaxe with-out smoake, nor Muske in the bosome with-out smell, nor love in the breast with-out suspition: Why then confesse thy love to Surius, Camilla, who is ready to ask before thou graunt. But it fareth in love, as it doth with the roote of the Reede, which being put unto the ferne taketh away all his strength, and likewise the Roote of the Ferne put to the Reede, depriveth it of all his force: so the lookes of Surius having taken all freedome from the eyes of Camilla, it may be the glaunces of Camilla have bereaved Surius of all libertie, which if it wer so, how happy shouldest thou be, and that it is so, why shouldest not thou hope. I but Surius is noble, I but love regardeth no byrth, I but his friendes will not consent, I but love knoweth no kindred, I but he is not willing to love, nor thou worthy to bee wooed, I but love maketh the proudest to stoupe, and to court the poorest.

Whylst she was thus debating, one of hir Maidens chaunced to knocke, which she hearing left off that, which al you Gentlewomen would gladly heare, for no doubt she determined to make a long sermon, had not she beene interrupted: But by the preamble you may gesse to what purpose the drift tended. This I note, that they that are most wise, most vertuous, most beautiful, are not free from the impressions of Fancy: For who would have thought that Camilla, who seemed to disdaine love, should so soone be entangled. But as the straightest wands are to be bent when they be small, so the presisest Virgins are to be won when they be young. But I will leave Camilla, with whose love I have nothing to meddle, for that it maketh nothing to my matter. And returne we to Euphues, who must play the last parte.

EUphues bestowing his time in the Courte, began to marke diligentlye the men, and their manners, not as one curious to misconster, but desirous to be instructed. Manye dayes hee used speach with the Ladyes, sundrye tymes with the Gentle-women, with all became so familyar, that he was of all earnestly beloved.

Philautus had taken such a smacke in the good entertainment of the Ladie Flavia, that he beganne to looke askew uppon Camilla, driving out the remembrance of his olde love, with the recording of the new. Who now but his violet, who but Mistris Frauncis, whom if once every day he had not seene, he wold have beene so solen, that no man should have seene him.

Euphues who watched his friend, demaunded how his love proceded with Camilla, unto whom Philautus gave no aunswere but a smile, by the which Euphues thought his affection but small. At the last thinking it both contrary to his oth and his honestie to conceale any thinge from Euphues, he confessed, that his minde was chaunged from Camilla to Frauncis. Love quoth Euphues will never make thee mad, for it commeth by fits, not like a quotidian, but a tertian.

In deede quoth Philautus, if ever I kill my selfe for love, it shall be with a sigh, not with a sworde.

Thus they passed the time many dayes in England, Euphues commonlye in the court to learne fashions, Philautus ever in the countrey to love Frauncis: so sweete a violet to his nose, that he could hardly suffer it to be an houre from his nose.

But nowe came the tyme, that Euphues was to trye Philautus trueth, for it happened that letters were directed from Athens to London, concerning serious and waightie affayres of his owne, which incited him to hasten his departure, the contentes of the which when he had imparted to Philautus, and requested his company, his friende was so fast tyed by the eyes, that he found thornes in his heele, which Euphues knewe to be thoughtes in his heart, and by no meanes hee could perswade him to goe into Italy, so sweete was the very smoke of England.

Euphues knowing the tyde would tarrye for no man, and seeing his businesse to require such speede, beeing for his great preferment, determined sodeinly to departe, yet not with-out taking of his leave curteouslye, and giving thankes to all those which since his comming had used him friendlye: Which that it myght be done with one breath, hee desired the Merchaunt with whome all this while he sojourned to invite a great number to dynner, some of great calling, manye of good credit, amonge the which Surius as chiefe, the Ladie Flavia, Camilla and Mistris Frauncis were not forgotten.

The time being come of meeting, he saluted them all in this manner.

I was never more desirous to come into England then I am loth to departe, such curtesie have I found, which I looked not for, and such qualities as I could not looke for, which I speake not to flatter any, when in trueth it is knowne to you all. But now the time is come that Euphues must packe from those, whome he best loveth, and go to the Seas, which he hardlye brooketh.

But I would Fortune had delt so favourable with a poore Grecian, that he might have eyther beene borne heere, or able to live heere: which seeing the one is past and can-not be, the other unlikely, and therfore not easie to be, I must endure the crueltie of the one, and with patience beare the necessitie of the other.

Yet this I earnestly crave of you all, that you wil in steede of a recompence accept thankes, & of him that is able to give nothing, take prayer for payment. What my good minde is to you all, my tongue can-not utter, what my true meaning is, your heartes can-not conceive: yet as occasion shall serve, I will shewe that I have not forgotten any, though I may not requit one. Philautus not wiser then I in this, though bolder, is determined to tarry behinde: for hee sayth that he had as liefe be buried in England, as married in Italy: so holy doth he thinke the ground heere, or so homely the women ther, whome although I would gladly have with me, yet seeing I can-not, I am most earnestlye to request you all, not for my sake, who ought to desire nothing, nor for his sake who is able to deserve little, but for the curtesies sake of England, that you use him not so well as you have done, which wold make him proud, but no worse then I wish him, which wil make him pure: for thogh I speak before his face, you shall finde true behinde his backe, that he is yet but wax, which must be wrought whilest the water is warme, and yron which being hot, is apt either to make a key or a locke.

It may be Ladies and Gentlewoemen all, that though England be not for Euphues to dwell in, yet it is for Euphues to send to.

When he had thus sayd, he could scarse speake for weeping, all the companye were sorye to forgoe him, some proffered him mony, some lands, some houses, but he refused them all, telling them that not the necessitie of lacke caused him not to departe, but of importance.

This done, they sate downe all to dinner, but Euphues could not be merry, for that he should so soone depart, the feast being ended, which was very sumptuous, as Merchaunts never spare for cost, when they have ful coffers, they al heartely tooke their leaves of Euphues, Camilla who liked verie well of his company, taking him by the hande, desired him that being in Athens, he woulde not forget his friends in Englande, and the rather for your sake quoth she, your friende shalbe better welcome, yea, & to me for his owne sake quoth Flavia, where at Philautus rejoyced and Frauncis was not sorie, who began a little to listen to the lure of love.

Euphues having all thinges in a redinesse went immediately toward Dover, whether Philautus also accompanied him, yet not forgetting by the way to visite the good olde father Fidus, whose curtesie they receaved at their comming. Fidus glade to see them, made them great cheare according to his abilitie, which had it been lesse, woulde have bene aunswerable to either desires. Much communication they had of the court, but Euphues cryed quittance, for he saide thinges that are commonly knowne it were folly to repeat, and secretes, it were against mine honestie to utter.

The next morning they went to Dover where Euphues being readie to take ship, he first tooke his farewell of Philautus in these wordes.

PHilautus the care that I have had of thee, from time to time, hath beene tried by the counsaile I have alwayes given thee, which if thou have forgotten, I meane no more to write in water, if thou remember imprint it still. But seeing my departure from thee is as it were my death, for that I knowe not whether ever I shall see thee, take this as my last testament of good will.

Bee humble to thy superiours , gentle to thy equalls, to thy inferiours favourable, envie not thy betters, justle not thy fellowes, oppresse not the poore.

The stipende that is allowed to maintaine thee use wisely, be neither prodigall to spende all, nor covetous to keepe all, cut thy coat according to thy cloth, and thinke it better to bee accompted thriftie among the wise, then a good companion among the riotous.

For thy studie or trade of life, use thy booke in the morning, thy bowe after dinner or what other exercise shall please thee best, but alwayes have an eye to the mayne, what soever thou art chaunced at the buy.

Let thy practise be lawe, for the practise of Phisike is too base for so fyne a stomacke as thine, and divinitie too curious for so fickle a heade as thou hast.

Touching thy proceedings in love, be constant to one, and trie but one, otherwise thou shalt bring thy credite into question, and thy love into derision.

Weane thy selfe from Camilla, deale wisely with Frauncis, for in Englande thou shalt finde those that will decypher thy dealings be they never so politique, be secret to thy selfe, and trust none in matters of love as thou lovest thy life.

Certifie me of thy proceedings by thy letters, and thinke that Euphues cannot forget Philautus, who is as deare to mee as my selfe. Commende me to all my friendes: And so farewell good Philautus, and well shalt thou fare if thou followe the counsell of Euphues.

PHilautus the water standing in his eyes, not able to aunswere one worde, untill he had well wepte, replyed at the last as it were in one worde, saying, that his counsaile shoulde bee engraven in his heart, and hee woulde followe everie thing that was prescribed him, certifying him of his successe as either occasion, or opportunitie should serve.

But when friendes at departing woulde utter most, then teares hinder most, whiche brake off both his aunswere, and stayde Euphues replye, so after many millions of embracinges, at the last they departed. Philautus to London where I leave him, Euphues to Athens where I meane to follow him, for hee it is that I am to goe with, not Philautus.

THere was nothing that happened on the Seas worthie the writing, but within fewe dayes Euphues having a merrye winde arryved at Athens, where after hee had visited his friendes, and set an order in his affayres, he began to addresse his letters to Livia touching the state of Englande in this manner.

LIvia I salute thee in the Lorde, &c. I am at length returned out of Englande, a place in my opinion (if any such may be in the earth) not inferiour to a Paradise.

I have here inclosed sent thee the discription, the manners, the conditions, the governement and entertainement of that countrie.

I have thought it good to dedicate it to the Ladies of Italy, if thou thinke it worthy, as thou cannest not otherwise, cause it to be imprinted, that the praise of such an Isle, may cause those that dwell els where, both to commende it, and marvell at it.

Philautus I have left behinde me, who like an olde dogge followeth his olde sent, love, wiser he is then he was woont, but as yet nothing more fortunate. I am in helth, and that thou art so, I heare nothing to the contrarie, but I knowe not howe it fareth with me, for I cannot as yet brooke mine owne countrie, I am so delighted with another.

Advertise me by letters what estate thou art in, also howe thou likest the state of Englande, which I have sent thee. And so farewell.

Thine to use Euphues.


To the Ladyes and Gentlewomen of
Italy: Euphues wisheth helth
and honour.

IF I had brought (Ladyes) little dogges from Malta, or straunge stones from India, or fine carpets from Turkie, I am sure that either you woulde have woed me to have them, or wished to see them.

But I am come out of Englande with a Glasse, wherein you shall behold the things which you never sawe, and marvel at the sightes when you have seene. Not a Glasse to make you beautiful, but to make you blush, yet not at your vices, but others vertues, not a Glasse to dresse your haires but to redresse your harmes, by the which if you every morning correcte your manners, being as carefull to amend faultes in your hearts, as you are curious to finde faults in your heads, you shall in short time be as much commended for vertue of the wise, as for beautie of the wanton.

Yet at the first sight if you seeme deformed by looking in this glasse, you must not thinke that the fault is in the glasse, but in your manners, not resembling Lavia, who seeing hir beautie in a true glasse to be but deformitie, washed hir face, and broke the glasse.

Heere shall you see beautie accompanyed with virginitie, temperaunce, mercie, justice, magnanimitie, and all other vertues whatsoever, rare in your sex, and but one, and rarer then the Phoenix where I thinke there is not one.

In this glasse shall you see that the glasses which you carrye in your fannes of fethers, shewe you to be lyghter then fethers, that the Glasses wher-in you carouse your wine, make you to be more wanton then Bacchus, that the new found glasse Cheynes that you weare about your neckes, argue you to be more brittle then glasse. But your eyes being too olde to judge of so rare a spectacle, my counsell is that you looke with spectacles: for ill can you abyde the beames of the cleere Sunne, being skant able to view the blase of a dymme candell. The spectacles I would have you use, are for the one eie judgment with-out flattering your selves, for the other eye, beliefe with-out mistrusting of mee.

And then I doubte not but you shall both thanke mee for this Glasse (which I sende also into all places of Europe) and thinke worse of your garyshe Glasses, which maketh you of no more price then broken Glasses.

Thus fayre Ladyes, hoping you will be as willing to prye in this Glasse for amendement of manners, as you are to prancke your selves in a lookinge Glasse, for commendation of menne, I wishe you as much beautie as you would have, so as you woulde endevour to have as much vertue as you shoulde have. And so farewell.

Euphues Euphues Glasse for

THere is an Isle lying in the Ocean Sea, directly against that part of Fraunce, which containeth Picardie and Normandie, called now England, heeretofore named Britaine, it hath Ireland upon the West side, on the North the maine Sea, on the East side the Germaine Ocean. This Islande is in circuit 1720. myles, in forme like unto a Triangle, beeing broadest in the South part, and gathering narrower and narrower till it come to the farthest poynt of Cathnesse, Northward, wher it is narrowest, and ther endeth in manner of a Promonterie. To repeate the auncient manner of this Island, or what sundry nations have inhabited there, to set downe the Giauntes, which in bygnesse of bone have passed the common sise, and almost common creditte, to rehearse what diversities of Languages have been used, into how many kyngdomes it hath beene devided, what Religions have beene followed before the comming of Christ, although it would breede great delight to your eares, yet might it happily seeme tedious: For that honnie taken excessivelye cloyeth the stomacke though it be honnie.

But my minde is briefly to touch such things as at my being there I gathered by myne owne studie and enquirie, not meaning to write a Chronocle, but to set downe in a word what I heard by conference.

It hath in it twentie and sixe Cities, of the which the chiefest is named London, a place both for the beautie of buyldings, infinite riches, varietie of all things, that excelleth all the Cities in the world: insomuch that it maye be called the Store-house and Marte of all Europe. Close by this Citie runneth the famous Ryver called the Theames, which from the head wher it ryseth named Isis, unto the fall Middway it is thought to be an hundred and forescore myles. What can there be in anye place under the heavens, that is not in this noble Citie eyther to be bought or borrowed?

It hath divers Hospitals for the relieving of the poore, six-score fayre Churches for divine service, a gloryous Burse which they call the Ryoll Exchaung, for the meeting of Merchants of all countries where any traffique is to be had. And among al the straung and beautifull showes, mee thinketh there is none so notable, as the Bridge which crosseth the Theames, which is in manner of a continuall streete, well replenyshed with large and stately houses on both sides, and situate upon twentie Arches, where-of each one is made of excellent free stone squared, everye one of them being three-score foote in hight, and full twentie in distaunce one from another.

To this place the whole Realme hath his recourse, wher-by it seemeth so populous, that one would scarse think so many people to be in the whole Island, as he shall see somtymes in London.

This maketh Gentlemen brave, and Merchaunts rich, Citisens to purchase, and sojourners to morgage, so that it is to be thought, that the greatest wealth and substaunce of the whole Realme is couched within-in the walles of London, where they that be rich keepe it from those that be ryotous, not deteining it from the lustie youthes of England by rigor, but encreasing it untill young men shall savor of reason, wherein they shew them-selves. Tresurers for others, not horders for them-selves, yet although it be sure enough, woulde they had it, in my opinion, it were better to be in the Gentle-mans purse, then in the Merchants handes.

There are in this Isle two and twentie Byshops, which are as it wer superentendaunts over the church, men of great zeale, and deepe knowledge, diligent Preachers of the worde, earnest followers of theyr doctrine, carefull watchmenne that the Woulfe devoure not the Sheepe, in civill government politique, in ruling the spirituall sworde (as farre as to them under their Prince apperteineth) just, cutting of those members from the Church by rigor, that are obstinate in their herisies, and instructing those that are ignoraunt, appoynting godlye and learned Ministers in every of their Seas, that in their absence maye bee lightes to such as are in darkenesse, salt to those that are unsavorie, leaven to such as are not seasoned.

Visitations are holden oftentymes, where-by abuses and disorders, eyther in the laitie for negligence, or in the clergie for superstition, or in al for wicked living there are punyshments, by due execution wherof the divine service of God is honoured with more puritie, and followed with greater sinceritie.

There are also in this Islande two famous Universities, the one Oxforde, the other Cambridge, both for the profession of all sciences, for Divinitie, phisicke, Lawe, and all kinde of learning, excelling all the Universities in Christendome.

I was my selfe in either of them, & like them both so well, that I meane not in the way of controversie to preferre any for the better in Englande, but both for the best in the world, saving this, that Colledges in Oxenford are much more stately for the building, and Cambridge much more sumptuous for the houses in the towne, but the learning neither lyeth in the free stones of the one, nor the fine streates of the other, for out of them both do dayly proceede men of great wisedome, to rule in the common welth, of learning to instruct the common people, of all singuler kinde of professions to do good to all. And let this suffice, not to enquire which of them is the superiour, but that neither of them have their equall, neither to aske which of them is the most auncient, but whether any other bee so famous.

But to proceede in Englande, their buildings are not very stately unlesse it be the houses of noble men and here & there, the place of a Gentleman, but much amended, as they report that have told me. For their munition they have not onely great stoore, but also great cunning to use them, and courage to practise them, there armour is not unlike unto that which in other countries they use, as Corselets, Almaine Rivetts, shirts of male, jacks quilted and covered over with Leather, Fustion, or Canvas, over thicke plates of yron that are sowed in the same.

The ordinaunce they have is great, and thereof great store.

Their navie is devided as it were into three sorts, of the which the one serveth for warres, the other for burthen, the thirde for fishermen. And some vessels there be (I knowe not by experience, and yet I beleeve by circumstance) that will saile nyne hundred myles in a weeke, when I should scarce thinke that a birde could flye foure hundred.

Touching other commodities, they have foure bathes, the first called Saint Vincents: the seconde, Hallie well, the third Buxton, the fourth (as in olde time they reade) Cair Bledud, but nowe taking his name of a town neere adjoyning it, is called the Bath.

Besides this many wonders there are to be found in this Island, which I will not repeat bicause I my selfe never sawe them, and you have hearde of greater.

Concerning their dyot, in number of dishes and chaung of meate, the nobilitie of England do exceed most, having all things that either may be bought for money, or gotten for the season: Gentlemen and merchaunts feede very finely, & a poore man it is that dineth with one dish, and yet so content with a little, that having halfe dyned, they say as it were in a proverbe, that they are as well satisfied as the Lord Maior of London whom they think to fare best, though he eate not most.

In their meales there is great silence and gravitie, using wine rather to ease the stomacke, then to load it, not like unto other nations, who never thinke that they have dyned till they be dronken.

The attire they use is rather ledde by the imitation of others, then their owne invention, so that there is nothing in Englande more constant, then the inconstancie of attire, nowe using the French fashion, nowe the Spanish, then the Morisco gownes, then one thing, then another, insomuch that in drawing of an English man the paynter setteth him downe naked, having in the one hande a payre of sheares, in the other a peece of cloath, who having cut his collar after the french guise is readie to make his sleeve after the Barbarian manner. And although this were the greatest enormitie that I coulde see in Englande, yet is it to be excused, for they that cannot maintaine this pride must leave of necessitie, and they that be able, will leave when they see the vanitie.

The lawes they use are different from ours for although the Common and Civil lawe be not abolished, yet are they not had in so greate reputation as their owne common lawes which they tearme the lawes of the Crowne.

The regiment that they have dependeth uppon statute lawe, & that is by Parlament which is the highest court, consisting of three several sortes of people, the Nobilitie, Clergie, & Commons of the Realme, so as whatsoever be among them enacted, the Queene striketh the stroke, allowing such things as to hir majesty seemeth best. Then upon common law, which standeth upon Maximes and principles, yeares & tearmes, the cases in this lawe are called plees, or actions, and they are either criminall or civil, the meane to determine are writts, some originall, some judiciall: Their trials & recoveries are either by verdect, or demur, confession or default, wherin if any fault have beene committed, either in processe or forme, matter or judgement, the partie greeved may have a write of errour.

Then upon customable law, which consisteth uppon laudable customes, used in some private countrie.

Last of all uppon prescription, whiche is a certeine custome continued time out of minde, but it is more particuler then their customary lawe.

Murtherers & theeves are hanged, witches burnt, al other villanies that deserve death punished with death, insomuch that there are very fewe haynous offences practised in respecte of those that in other countries are commonly used.

Of savage beastes and vermyn they have no great store, nor any that are noysome, the cattell they keepe for profite, are Oxen, Horses, Sheepe, Goats, and Swine, and such like, whereof they have abundance, wildfole and fish they want none, nor any thing that either may serve for pleasure or profite.

They have more store of pasture then tillage, their meddowes better then their corne field, which maketh more grasiors then Cornemungers, yet sufficient store of both.

They excel for one thing, there dogges of al sorts, spanels, hounds, maistiffes, and divers such, the one they keepe for hunting and hawking, the other for necessarie uses about their houses, as to drawe water, to watch theeves, &c. and there-of they derive the worde mastiffe of Mase [ie, master] and thiefe.

There is in that Isle Salt made, & Saffron, there are great quarries of stone for building, sundrie minerals of Quicksilver, Antimony, Sulphur, blacke Lead and Orpiment redde and yellowe. Also there groweth the finest Alum that is, Vermilion, Bittament, Chrisocolla, Coporus, the mineral stone whereof Petreolum is made, and that which is most straunge, the minerall pearle, which are they are for greatnesse and coulour most excellent, so are they digged out of the maine lande, in places farre distant from the shoare.

Besides these, though not straunge, yet necessarie, they have Cole mines, salt Peter for ordinance, Salt Sode for Glasse.

They want no Tinne nor Leade, there groweth Yron, Steele and Copper, and what not, so hath God blessed that countrie, as it shoulde seeme not onely to have sufficient to serve their owne turnes, but also others necessities, whereof there was an olde saying, all countries stande in neede of Britaine, and Britaine of none.

Their Aire is very wholsome, and pleasant, their civilitie not inferiour to those that deserve best, their wittes very sharpe and quicke, although I have heard that the Italian and the French-man have accompted them but grose and dull pated, which I think came not to passe by the proofe they made of their wits, but by the Englishmans reporte.

For this is straunge (and yet how true it is there is none that ever travailed thether but can reporte) that it is alwayes incident to an English-man to thinke worst of his owne nation, eyther in learning, experience, common reason, or wit, preferring alwaies a straunger rather for the name, then the wisdome. I for mine owne parte thinke, that in all Europe there are not Lawyers more learned, Divines more profound, Phisitions more expert, then are in England.

But that which most allureth a straunger is their curtesie, their civilitie, & good entertainment. I speake this by experience, that I found more curtesie in England among those I never knewe, in one yeare, then I have done in Athens or Italy among those I ever loved, in twentie.

But having entreated sufficiently of the countrey and their conditions, let me come to the Glasse I promised being the court, where although I should as order requireth beginne with the chiefest, yet I am enforced with the Painter, to reserve my best coulors to end Venus, and to laie the ground with the basest.

First then I must tell you of the grave and wise Counsailors, whose foresight in peace warranteth saftie in warre, whose provision in plentie, maketh sufficient in dearth, whose care in health is as it were a preparative against sicknesse, how great their wisdom hath beene in all things, the twentie two yeares peace doth both shew and prove. For what subtilty hath ther bin wrought so closly, what privy attempts so craftily, what rebellions stirred up so disorderly, but they have by policie bewrayed, prevented by wisdome, repressed by justice? What conspiracies abroad, what confederacies at home, what injuries in anye place hath there beene contrived, the which they have not eyther fore-seene before they could kindle, or quenched before they could flame?

If anye wilye Ulysses should faine maddnesse, there was amonge them alwayes some Palamedes to reveale him, if any Thetis went about to keepe hir sonne from the doing of his countrey service, there was also a wise Ulysses in the courte to bewraye it: If Sinon came with a smoothe tale to bringe in the horse into Troye, there hath beene alwayes some couragious Laocoon to throwe his speare agaynst the bowelles, whiche beeing not bewitched with Laocoon, hath unfoulded that, which Laocoon suspected.

If Argus with his hundred eyes went prying to undermine Jupiter, yet met he with Mercurie, who whiselled all his eyes out: in-somuch as ther coulde never yet any craft prevaile against their policie, or any chalenge against their courage. There hath alwayes beene Achilles at home, to buckle with Hector abroad, Nestors gravitie to countervaile Priams counsail, Ulisses subtilties to mach with Antenors policies. England hath al those, that can and have wrestled with al others, wher-of we can require no greater proofe then experience.

Besides they have al a zelous care for the encreasing of true religion, whose faiths for the most part hath bin tried through the fire, which they had felt, had not they fledde over the water. More-over the great studie they bend towards schooles of learning, doth sufficiently declare, that they are not onely furtherers of learning, but fathers of the learned. O thrise happy England where such Counsaylours are, where such people live, where such vertue springeth.

Amonge these shall you finde Zopirus that will mangle him-selfe to do his country good, Achates that will never start an ynch from his Prince Aeneas, Nasicaa that never wanted a shift in extremitie, Cato that ever counsayled to the best, Ptolomeus Philadelphus, that alwaies maintained learning. Among the number of all which noble and wise counsailors, (I can-not but for his honors sake remember) the most prudent & right honourable the Lorde Burgleigh, high Treasurer of that Realme, no lesse reverenced for his wisdome, than renowmed for his office, more loved at home then feared abroade, and yet more feared for his counsayle amonge other nations, then sworde or fyre, in whome the saying of Agamemnon may be verified, who rather wished for one such as Nestor, then many such as Ajax.

This noble man I found so ready being but a straunger, to do me good, that neyther I ought to forget him, neyther cease to pray for him, that as he hath the wisdome of Nestor, so he may have the age, that having the policies of Ulysses, he may have his honor, worthye to lyve long, by whome so manye lyve in quiet, and not unworthy to be advaunced, by whose care so many have beene preferred.

Is not this a Glasse fayre Ladyes for all other countrie (sic.) to beholde, wher there is not only an agreement in fayth, religion, and counsayle, but in friend-shyppe, brother-hoode and lyving? By whose good endevours vice is punyshed, vertue rewarded, peace establyshed, forren broyles repressed, domesticall cares appeased? what nation can of Counsailors desire more? what Dominion, that excepted, hath so much? when neither courage can prevaile against their chivalrie, nor craft take place agaynst their counsayle, nor both joynde in one be of force to undermine their country, when you have daseled your eies with this Glasse, behold here an other. It was my fortune to be acquainted with certaine English Gentlemen, which brought mee to the court, wher when I came, I was driven into a maze to behold the lusty & brave gallants, the beutiful & chast Ladies, the rare & godly orders, so as I could not tel whether I should most commend vertue or bravery. At the last comming oftner thether, then it beseemed one of my degree, yet not so often as they desired my company, I began to prye after theyr manners, natures, and lyves, and that which followeth I saw, where-of who so doubteth, I will sweare.

The Ladyes spend the morning in devout prayer, not resembling the Gentlewoemen in Greece and Italy, who begin their morning at midnoone, and make their evening at midnight, using sonets for psalmes, & pastymes for prayers, reading the Epistle of a Lover, when they should peruse the Gospell of our Lorde, drawing wanton lynes when death is before their face, as Archimedes did triangles & circles when the enimy was at his backe. Behold Ladies in this glasse, that the service of God is to be preferred before all things, imitat the Englysh Damoselles, who have theyr bookes tyed to theyr gyrdles, not fethers, who are as cunning in the scriptures, as you are in Ariosto or Petrarck or anye booke that lyketh you best, and becommeth you worst.

For bravery I cannot say that you exceede them, for certainly it is the most gorgious court that ever I have seene, read, or heard of, but yet do they not use theyr apperell so nicely as you in Italy, who thinke scorn to kneele at service, for feare of wrinckles in your silks, who dare not life up your head to heaven, for feare of rumpling the rufs in your neck, yet your hands I confesse are holden up, rather I thinke to shewe your ringes, then to manifest your righteousnesse. The braverie they use is for the honour of their Prince, the attyre you weare for the alluring of your pray, the ritch apparell maketh their beautie more seene, your disguising causeth your faces to be more suspected, they resemble in their rayment the Estrich who being gased on, closeth hir winges and hideth hir feathers, you in your robes are not unlike the pecocke, who being praysed spreadeth hir tayle and bewrayeth hir pride. Velvetts and Silkes in them are like golde about a pure Diamond, in you like a greene hedge, about a filthy dunghill. Thinke not Ladies that bicause you are decked with golde, you are endued with grace, imagine not that shining like the Sunne in earth, yea shall climbe the Sunne in heaven, looke diligently into this English glasse, and then shall you see that the more costly your apparell is, the greater your curtesie should be, that you ought to be as farre from pride, as you are from povertie, and as neere to princes in beautie, as you are in brightnes. Bicause you are brave, disdaine not those that are base, thinke with your selves that russet coates have their Christendome, that the Sunne when he is at his hight shineth aswel upon course carsie, as cloth of tissue, though you have pearles in your eares, Jewels in your breastes, preacious stones on your fingers, yet disdaine not the stones in the streat, which although they are nothing so noble, yet are they much more necessarie. Let not your robes hinder your devotion, learne of the English Ladies, that God is worthy to be worshipped with the most price, to whom you ought to give all praise, then shall you be like stars to the wise, who now are but staring stockes to the foolish, then shall you be praysed of most, who are now pointed at of all, then shall God beare with your folly, who nowe abhorreth your pride.

As the Ladies in this blessed Islande are devout and brave, so are they chast and beautifull, insomuch that when I first behelde them, I could not tell whether some mist had bleared myne eyes, or some strang enchauntment altered my minde, for it may bee, thought I, that in this Island, either some Artemidorus or Lisimandro, or some odd Nigromancer did inhabit, who would shewe me Fayries, or the bodie of Helen, or the new shape of Venus, but comming to my selfe, and seeing that my sences were not chaunged, but hindered, that the place where I stoode was no enchaunted castell, but a gallant court, I could scarce restraine my voyce from crying, There is no beautie but in England. There did I behold them of pure complexion, exceeding the lillie, & the rose, of favour (wherein the chiefest beautie consisteth) surpassing the pictures that were feyned, or the Magition that would faine, their eyes percing like the Sun beames, yet chast, their speach pleasant & sweete, yet modest & curteous, their gate comly, their bodies straight, their hands white, al things that man could wish, or women woulde have, which howe much it is, none can set downe, when as the one desireth as much as may be, the other more. And to these beautifull mouldes, chast minds: to these comely bodies temperance, modestie, mildenesse, sobrietie, whom I often beheld, merrie yet wise, conferring with courtiers yet warily: drinking of wine yet moderately, eating of delicats yet but their eare ful, listing to discourses of love but not without reasoning of learning: for there it more delighteth them to talke of Robin hood, then to shoot in his bowe, & greater pleasure they take, to heare of love, then to be in love. Heere Ladies is a Glasse that will make you blush for shame, & looke wan for anger, their beautie commeth by nature, yours by art, they encrease their favours with faire water, you maintaine yours with painters colours, the haire they lay out groweth upon their owne heads, your seemelines hangeth upon others, theirs is alwayes in their owne keeping, yours often in the Dyars, their bewtie is not lost with a sharpe blast, yours fadeth with a soft breath: Not unlike unto Paper Floures, which breake as soone as they are touched, resembling the birds in Aegypt called Ibes, who being handled loose their feathers, or the serpent Serapie, which beeing but toucht with a brake, bursteth. They use their beautie, bicause it is commendable, you bicause you woulde be common, they if they have little, doe not seeke to make it more, you that have none endeavour to bespeake most, if theirs wither by age they nothing esteeeme it, if your wast by yeares, you goe about to keepe it, they knowe that beautie must faile if life continue, you sweare that it shall not fade if coulours last.

But to what ende (Ladies) doe you alter the giftes of nature, by the shiftes of arte? Is there no colour good but white, no Planet bright but Venus, no Linnen faire but Lawne? Why goe yee about to make the face fayre by those meanes, that are most foule, a thing loathsome to man, and therefore not lovely, horrible before God, and therefore not lawefull.

Have ye not hearde that the beautie of the Cradell is most brightest, that paintings are for pictures with out sence, not for persons with true reason. Follow at the last Ladies the Gentlewomen of England, who being beautifull doe those thinges as shall beecome so amyable faces, if of an indifferent hew, those things as shall make them lovely, not adding an ounce to beautie, that may detract a dram from vertue. Besides this their chastitie and temperance is as rare, as their beautie, not going in your footesteppes, that drinke wine before you rise to encrease your coulour, and swill it when you are up, to provoke your lust: They use their needle to banish idlenes, not the pen to nourish it, not spending their times in answering the letters of those that woe them, but forswearing the companie of those that write them, giving no occasion either by wanton lookes, unseemely gestures, unadvised speach, or any uncomly behaviour, of lightnesse, or liking. Contrarie to the custome of many countries, where filthie wordes are accompted to savour of a fine witte, broade speach, of a bolde courage, wanton glaunces, of a sharpe eye sight, wicked deedes, of a comely gesture, all vaine delights, of a right curteous curtesie.

And yet are they not in England presise, but wary, not disdainefull to conferre, but careful to offende, not without remorse where they perceive trueth, but without replying where they suspect trecherie, when as among other nations, there is no tale so lothsome to chast eares but it is heard with great sport, and aunswered with great speade.

Is it not then a shame (Ladyes) that that little Island shoulde be a myrrour to you, to Europe, to the whole worlde?

Where is the temperance you professe when wine is more common then water? where the chastity when lust is thought lawful, where the modestie when your mirth turneth to uncleanes, uncleanes to shamelesnes, shamelesnesse to al sinfulnesse? Learne Ladies though late, yet at length, that the chiefest title of honour in earth, is to give all honour to him that is in heaven, that the greatest braverie in this worlde, is to be burning lampes in the worlde to come, that the clearest beautie in this life, is to be amiable to him that shall give life eternall: Looke in the Glasse of England, too bright I feare me for your eyes, what is there in your sex that they have not, and what that you should not have?

They are in prayer devoute, in bravery humble, in beautie chast, in feasting temperate, in affection wise, in mirth modest, in al their actions though courtlye, bicause woemen, yet Aungels, bicause virtuous.

Ah (good Ladies) good, I say, for that I love you, I would yee could a little abate that pride of your stomackes, that loosenesse of minde, that lycentious behaviour which I have seene in you, with no smal sorowe, and can-not remedy with continuall sighes.

They in England pray when you play, sowe when you sleep, fast when you feast, and weepe for their sins, when you laugh at your sensualitie.

They frequent the Church to serve God, you to see gallants, they deck them-selves for clenlinesse, you for pride, they maintaine their beautie for their owne lyking, you for others lust, they refraine wine, bicause they fear to take too much, you bicause you can take no more. Come Ladies, with teares I call you, looke in this Glasse, repent your sins past, refrain your present vices, abhor vanities to come, say thus with one voice, we can see our faults only in the English Glasse: a Glas of grace to them, of grief to you, to them in the steed of righteousnes, to you in place of repentance. The Lords & Gentlemen in that court are also an example for all others to folow, true tipes of nobility, the only stay and staf to honor, brave courtiers, stout soldiers, apt to revell in peace, and ryde in warre. In fight fearce, not dreading death, in friendship firme, not breaking promise, curteous to all that deserve well, cruell to none that deserve ill. Their adversaries they trust not, that sheweth their wisdome, their enimies they feare not, that argueth their courage. They are not apt to proffer injuries, nor fit to take any: loth to pick quarrels, but longing to revenge them.

Active they are in all things, whether it be to wrestle in the games of Olympia, or to fight at Barriers in Palestra, able to carry as great burthens as Milo, of strength to throwe as byg stones as Turnus, and what not that eyther man hath done or may do, worthye of such Ladies, and none but they, and Ladies willing to have such Lordes, and none but such.

This is a Glasse for our youth in Greece, for your young ones in Italy, the English Glasse, behold it Ladies and Lordes, and all, that eyther meane to have pietie, use braverie, encrease beautie, or that desire temperancie, chastitie, witte, wisdome, valure, or any thing that may delight your selves, or deserve praise of others.

But an other sight there is in my Glasse, which maketh me sigh for griefe I can-not shewe it, and yet had I rather offend in derogating from my Glasse, then my good will.

Blessed is that Land, that hath all commodities to encrease the common wealth, happye is that Islande that hath wise counsailours to maintaine it, vertuous courtiers to beautifie it, noble Gentle-menne to advaunce it, but to have suche a Prince to governe it, as is their Soveraigne queene, I know not whether I should thinke the people to be more fortunate, or the Prince famous, whether their felicitie be more to be had in admiration, that have such a ruler, or hir vertues to be honoured, that hath such royaltie, for such is their estat ther, that I am enforced to think that every day is as lucky to the Englishmen, as the sixt daye of Februarie hath beene to the Grecians.

But I see you gase untill I shew this Glasse, which you having once seene, wil make you giddy: Oh Ladies I know not when to begin, nor where to ende: for the more I go about to expresse the brightnes, the more I finde mine eyes bleared, the neerer I desire to come to it, the farther I seme from it, not unlike unto Simonides, who being curious to set downe what God was, the more leysure he tooke, the more loth hee was to meddle, saying that in thinges above reach, it was easie to catch a straine, but impossible to touch a Star: and therfore scarse tollerable to poynt at that, which one can never pull at. When Alexander had commaunded that none shoulde paint him but Appelles, none carve him but Lysippus, none engrave him but Pirgoteles, Parrhasius framed a Table squared, everye way twoo hundred foote, which in the borders he trimmed with fresh coulours, and limmed with fine golde, leaving all the other roume with-out knotte or lyne, which table he presented to Alexander, who no lesse mervailing at the bignes, then at the barenes, demaunded to what ende he gave him a frame with-out face, being so naked, and with-out fashion being so great. Parrhasius aunswered him, let it be lawful for Parrhasius, O Alexander, to shew a Table wherin he would paint Alexander, if it were not unlawfull, and for others to square Timber, though Lysippus carve it, and for all to cast brasse though Pirgoteles ingrave it. Alexander perceiving the good minde of Parrhasius, pardoned his boldnesse, and preferred his arte: yet enquyring why hee framed the table so bygge, hee aunswered, that hee thought that frame to bee but little enough for his Picture, when the whole worlde was to little for his personne, saying that Alexander must as well bee praysed, as paynted, and that all his victoryes and vertues, were not for to bee drawne in the Compasse of a Sygnette, but in a fielde.

This aunswer Alexander both lyked & rewarded, insomuch that it was lawful ever after for Parrhasius both to praise that noble king and to paint him.

In the like manner I hope, that though it be not requisite that any should paynt their Prince in England, that can-not sufficiently perfect hir, yet it shall not be thought rashnesse or rudenesse for Euphues, to frame a table for Elizabeth, though he presume not to paynt hir. Let Apelles shewe his fine arte, Euphues will manifest his faythfull heart, the one can but prove his conceite to blase his cunning, the other his good will to grinde his coulours: hee that whetteth the tooles is not to bee misliked, though hee can-not carve the Image, the worme that spinneth the silke, is to be esteemed, though she cannot worke the sampler, they that fell tymber for shippes, are not to be blamed, bicause they can-not builde shippes.

He that caryeth morter furthereth the building, though hee be no expert Mason, hee that diggeth the garden, is to be considered, though he cannot treade the knottes, the Golde-smythes boye must have his wages for blowing the fire, though he can-not fashion the Jewell.

Then Ladyes I hope poore Euphues shalt not bee reviled, though hee deserve not to bee rewarded.

I will set downe this Elizabeth, as neere as I can: And it may be, that as the Venus of Apelles, not finished, the Tindarides of Nichomachus not ended, the Medea of Timomachus not perfected, the table of Parrhasius not couloured, brought greater desire to them, to consumate them, and to others to see them: so the Elizabeth of Euphues, being but shadowed for others to vernish, but begun for others to ende, but drawen with a blacke coale, for others to blase with a bright coulour, may worke either a desire in Euphues heereafter if he live, to ende it, or a minde in those that are better able to amende it, or in all (if none can worke it) a wil to wish it. In the meane season I say as Zeuxis did when he had drawen the picture of Atalanta, more wil envie me then imitate me, and not commende it though they cannot amende it. But I come to my England.

There were for a long time civill wars in this countrey, by reason of several claymes to the Crowne, betweene the two famous and noble houses of Lancaster and Yorke, either of them pretending to be of the royall bloude, which caused them both to spende their vitall bloode, these jarres continued long, not without great losse, both to the Nobilitie and Comminaltie, who joyning not in one, but divers parts, turned the realme to great ruine, having almost destroyed their countrey before they coulde annoynt a king.

But the lyving God who was loath to oppresse England, at last began to represse injuries, and to give an ende by mercie, to those that could finde no ende of malice, nor looke for any ende of mischiefe. So tender a care hath he alwaies had of that England, as of a new Israel, his chosen and peculier people.

This peace began by a marriage solemnized by Gods speciall providence, betweene Henrie Earle of Ritchmond heire of the house of Lancaster, and Elizabeth daughter to Edward the fourth, the undoubted issue and heire of the house of Yorke, where by (as they tearme it) the redde Rose and the white, were united and joyned together. Out of these Roses sprang two noble buddes, Prince Arthur and Henrie, the eldest dying without issue, the other of most famous memorie, leaving behinde him three children, Prince Edwarde, the Ladie Marie, the Ladie Elizabeth. King Edwarde lived not long, which coulde never for that Realme have lived too long, but sharpe frostes bite forwarde springes, Easterly windes blasteth towardly blossoms, cruell death spareth not those, which we our selves living cannot spare.

The elder sister the Princes Marie, succeeded as next heire to the crowne, and as it chaunced nexte heire to the grave, touching whose life, I can say little bicause I was scarse borne, and what others say, of me shalbe forborne.
This Queene being deceased, Elizabeth being of the age of xxij. yeares, of more beautie then honour, & yet of more honour then any earthly creature, was called from a prisoner to be a Prince, from the castell to the crowne, from the feare of loosing hir heade, to be supreame heade. And here Ladies it may be you wil move a question, why this noble Ladie was either in daunger of death, or cause of distresse, which had you thought to have passed in silence, I would notwithstanding have reveiled.

This Ladie all the time of her sisters reigne was kept close, as one that tendered not those proceedings, which were contrarie to hir conscience, who having divers enemies, endured many crosses, but so patiently as in hir deepest sorrow, she would rather sigh for the libertie of the gospel, then hir own freedome. Suffering hir inferiours to triumph over hir, hir foes to threaten hir, hir dissembling friends to undermine hir, learning in all this miserie onely the patience that Zeno taught Eretricus to beare and forbeare, never seeking revenge but with good Lycurgus, to loose hir owne eye, rather then to hurt an others eye.

But being nowe placed in the seate royall, she first of al established religion, banished poperie, advaunced the worde, that before was so much defaced, who having in hir hande the sworde to revenge, used rather bountifully to reward: Being as farre from rigour when shee might have killed, as hir enemies were from honestie when they coulde not, giving a general pardon, when she had cause to use perticuler punishments, preferring the name of pittie before the remembrance of perils, thinking no revenge more princely, then to spare when she might spill, to staye when she might strike, to profer to save with mercie, when she might have destroyed with justice. Heere is the clemencie worthie commendation and admiration, nothing inferiour to the gentle disposition of Aristides, who after his exile did not so much as note them that banished him, saying with Alexander that there can be nothing more noble then to doe well to those, that deserve yll.

This mightie and merciful Queene, having many bils of private persons, that sought before time to betray hir, burnt them all, resembling Julius Caesar, who being presented with the like complaints of his commons, threw them into the fire, saying that he had rather, not knowe the names of rebels, then have occasion to reveng, thinking it better to be ignorant of those that hated them, then to be angrie with them.

This clemencie did hir majestie not onely shew at hir comming to the crowne, but also throughout hir whole government, when she hath spared to shedde their bloods, that sought to spill hirs, not racking the lawes to extremitie, but mittigating the rigour with mercy insomuch as it may be said of that royal Monarch as it was of Antoninus, surnamed the godly Emperour, who raigned many yeares without the effusion of blood. What greater vertue can there be in a Prince then mercy, what greater praise then to abate the edge which she should whette, to pardon where she shoulde punish, to rewarde where she should revenge.

I my selfe being in England when hir majestie was for hir recreation in her Barge upon the Thames, hard of a Gun that was shotte off though of the partie unwittingly, yet to hir noble person daungerously, which fact she most graciously pardoned, accepting a just excuse before a great amends, taking more griefe for hir poore Bargeman that was a little hurt, then care for hir selfe that stoode in greatest hasarde: O rare example of pittie, O singuler spectacle of pietie.

Divers besides have there beene which by private conspiracies, open rebellions, close wiles, cruel witchcraftes, have sought to ende hir life, which saveth all their lives, whose practises by the divine providence of the almightie, have ever beene disclosed, insomuch that he hath kept hir safe in the whales belly when hir subjects went about to throwe hir into the sea, preserved hir in the hoat Oven, when hir enimies encreased the fire, not suffering a haire to fal from hir, much lesse any harme to fasten uppon hir. These injuries & treasons of hir subjects, these policies & undermining of forreine nations so little moved hir, that she woulde often say, let them knowe that though it bee not lawfull for them to speake what they list, yet it is lawfull for us to doe with them what we list, being alwayes of that mercifull minde, which was in Theodosius, who wishid (sic.) rather that he might call the deade to life, then put the living to death, saying with Augustus, when she shoulde set hir hande to any condempnation, I woulde to God we could not writ. Infinite were the ensamples that might be alledged, and almost incredible, whereby shee hath shewed hir selfe a Lambe in meekenesse, when she had cause to be a Lion in might, proved a Dove in favour, when she was provoked to be an Eagle in fiercenesse, requiting injuries with benefits, revenging grudges with gifts, in highest majestie bearing the lowest minde, forgiving all that sued for mercie, and forgetting all that deserved Justice.

O divine nature, O heavenly nobilitie, what thing can there more be required in a Prince, then in greatest power, to shewe greatest patience, in chiefest glorye, to bring forth chiefest grace, in abundaunce of all earthlye pompe, to manifest aboundaunce of all heavenly pietie? O fortunate England that hath such a Queene, ungratefull if thou praye not for hir, wicked if thou do not love hir, miserable, if thou loose hir.

Heere Ladies is a Glasse for all Princes to behold, that being called to dignitie, they use moderation, not might, tempering the severitie of the lawes, with the mildnes of love, not executing al they wil, but shewing what they may. Happy are they, and onely they that are under this glorious and gracious Sovereigntie: in-somuch that I accompt all those abjects, that be not hir subjectes.

But why doe I treade still in one path, when I have so large a fielde to walke, or lynger about one flower, when I have manye to gather: where-in I resemble those that beeinge delighted with the little brooke, neglect the fountaines head, or that painter, that being curious to coulour Cupids Bow, forgot to paint the string.

As this noble Prince is endued with mercie, pacience and moderation, so is she adourned with singuler beautie and chastitie, excelling in the one Venus, in the other Vesta. Who knoweth not how rare a thing it is (Ladies) to match virginitie with beautie, a chast minde with an amiable face, divine cogitations with a comelye countenaunce? But suche is the grace bestowed uppon this earthlye Goddesse, that having the beautie that myght allure all Princes, she hath the chastitie also to refuse all, accounting it no lesse praise to be called a Virgin, then to be esteemed a Venus, thinking it as great honour to bee found chast, as thought amiable: Where is now Electra the chast Daughter of Agamemnon? Where is Lala that renoumed Virgin? Wher is Aemilia, that through hir chastitie wrought wonders, in maintayning continuall fire at the alter of Vesta? Where is Claudia, that to manifest hir virginitie set the Shippe on float with hir finger, that multitudes could not remove by force? Where is Tuccia one of the same order, that brought to passe no lesse mervailes, by carrying water in a sive, not shedding one drop from Tiber to the Temple of Vesta? If Virginitie have such force, then what hath this chast Virgin Elizabeth don, who by the space of twenty and odde yeares with continuall peace against all policies, with sundry myracles, contrary to all hope, hath governed that noble Island. Against whome neyther forren force, nor civill fraude, neyther discorde at home, nor conspirices abroad, could prevaile. What greater mervaile hath happened since the beginning of the world, then for a young and tender Maiden, to govern strong and valiaunt menne, then for a Virgin to make the whole worlde, if not to stand in awe of hir, yet to honour hir, yea and to live in spight of all those that spight hir, with hir sword in the sheth, with hir armour in the Tower, with hir souldiers in their gownes, insomuch as hir peace may be called more blessed then the quiet raigne of Numa Pompilius, in whose government the Bees have made their hives in the soldiers helmettes. Now is the Temple of Janus removed from Rome to England, whose dore hath not bene opened this twentie yeares, more to be mervayled at, then the regiment of Debora, who ruled twentie yeares with religion, or Semyramis that governed long with power, or Zenobia that reigned six yeares in prosperitie.

This is the onelye myracle that virginitie ever wrought, for a little Island envix-roned round about with warres, to stande in peace, for the walles of Fraunce to burne, and the houses of England to freese, for all other nations eyther with civile sworde to bee devided, or with forren foes to be invaded, and that countrey neyther to be molested with broyles in their owne bosomes, nor threatned with blasts of other borderers: But alwayes though not laughing, yet looking through an Emeraud at others jarres.

Their fields have beene sowne with corne, straungers there pytched with Camps, they have their men reaping their harvest, when others are mustring in their harneis, they use their peeces to fowle for pleasure, others their Calivers for feare of perrill.

O blessed peace, oh happy Prince, O fortunate people: The lyving God is onely the Englysh God, wher he hath placed peace, which bryngeth all plentie, annoynted a Virgin Queene, which with a wand ruleth hir owne subjects, and with hir worthinesse, winneth the good willes of straungers, so that she is no lesse gratious among hir own, then glorious to others, no lesse loved of hir people, then mervaled at of other nations.

This is the blessing that Christ alwayes gave to his people, peace: This is the curse that hee giveth to the wicked, there shall bee no peace to the ungodlye: This was the onelye salutation hee used to his Disciples, peace be unto you: And therefore is hee called the GOD of love, and peace in hollye writte.

In peace was the Temple of the Lorde buylt by Salomon, Christ would not be borne, untill there were peace through-out the whole worlde, this was the only thing that Esechias prayed for, let there be trueth and peace, O Lorde, in my dayes. All which examples doe manifestly prove, that ther can be nothing given of God to man more notable then peace.

This peace hath the Lorde continued with good and unspeakable goodnesse amonge his chosen people of England. How much is that nation bounde to such a Prince, by whome they enjoye all benefits of peace, having their barnes full, when others famish, their cofers stuffed with gold, when others have no silver, their wives without daunger, when others are defamed, their daughters chast, when others are defloured, theyr houses furnished, when others are fired, where they have all thinges for superfluitie, others nothing to sustaine their neede. This peace hath God given for hir vertues, pittie, moderation, virginitie, which peace, the same God of peace continue for his names sake.

TOuching the beautie of this Prince, hir countenaunce, hir personage, hir majestie, I can-not thinke that it may be sufficiently commended, when it can-not be too much mervailed at: So that I am constrained to saye as Praxitiles did, when hee beganne to paynt Venus and hir Sonne, who doubted, whether the worlde could affoorde coulours good enough for two such fayre faces, and I whether our tongue canne yeelde wordes to blase that beautie, the perfection where-of none canne imagine, which seeing it is so, I must doe like those that want a cleere sight, who being not able to discerne the Sunne in the Skie are inforced to beholde it in the water. Zeuxis having before him fiftie faire virgins of Sparta where by to draw one amiable Venus, said, that fiftie more fayrer then those coulde not minister sufficent beautie to shewe the Godesse of beautie, therefore being in dispaire either by art to shadow hir, or by imagination to comprehend hir, he drew in a table a faire temple, the gates open, & Venus going in, so as nothing coulde be perceived but hir backe, wherein he used such cunning, that Appelles himselfe seeing this worke, wished that Venus would turne hir face, saying that if it were in all partes agreeable to the backe, he woulde become apprentice to Zeuxis, and slave to Venus. In the like manner fareth it with me, for having all the Ladyes in Italy more then fiftie hundered, whereby to coulour Elizabeth, I must say with Zeuxis, that as many more will not suffise, and therefore in as great an agonie paint hir court with hir back towards you, for that I cannot by art portraie hir beautie, wherein though I want the skill to doe it as Zeuxis did, yet vewing it narrowly, and comparing it wisely, you all will say that if hir face be aunswerable to hir backe, you wil like my handi-crafte, and become hir handmaides. In the meane season I leave you gasing untill she turne hir face, imagining hir to be such a one as nature framed, to that end that no art should imitate, wherein shee hath proved hir selfe to bee exquisite, & painters to be Apes.

This Beautifull moulde when I behelde to be endued, with chastitie, temperance, mildnesse, & all other good giftes of nature (as hereafter shall appeare) when I saw hir to surpasse all in beautie, and yet a virgin, to excell all in pietie, and yet a prince, to be inferiour to none in all the liniaments of the bodie, and yet superiour to every one in all giftes of the minde, I beegan thus to pray, that as she hath lived fortie yeares a virgin in great majestie, so she may lyve fourescore yeares a mother, with great joye, that as with hir we have long time hadde peace and plentie, so by hir we may ever have quietnesse and aboundaunce, wishing this even from the bottome of a heart that wisheth well to England, though feareth ill, that either the world may ende before she dye, or she lyve to see hir childrens children in the world: otherwise, how tickle their state is that now triumph, upon what a twist they hang that now are in honour, they that live shal see which I to thinke on, sigh. But God for his mercies sake, Christ for his merits sake, the holy Ghost for his names sake, graunt to that realme, comfort with-out anye ill chaunce, & the Prince they have without any other chaunge, that the longer she liveth the sweeter she may smell, lyke the bird Ibis, that she maye be triumphant in victories lyke the Palme tree, fruitfull in hir age lyke the Vyne, in all ages prosperous, to all men gratious, in all places glorious: so that there be no ende of hir praise, untill the ende of all flesh.

Thus did I often talke with my selfe, and wishe with mine whole soule.

What should I talke of hir sharpe wit, excellent wisedome, exquisite learning, and all other qualities of the minde, where-in she seemeth as farre to excell those that have bene accompted singular, as the learned have surpassed those, that have bene thought simple.

In questioning not inferiour to Nicaulia the Queene of Saba, that did put so many hard doubts to Salomon, equall to Nicostrata in the Greeke tongue, who was thought to give precepts for the better perfection: more learned in the Latine, then Amalasunta: passing Aspasia in Philosophie, who taught Pericles: exceeding in judgement Themistoclea, who instructed Pithagoras, adde to these qualyties, those, that none of these had, the French tongue, the Spanish, the Italian, not meane in every one, but excellent in all, readyer to correct escapes in those languages, then to be controlled, fitter to teach others, then learne of anye, more able to adde new rules, then to erre in the olde: Insomuch as there is no Embassadour, that commeth into hir court, but she is willing & able both to understand his message, & utter hir minde, not lyke unto the Kings of Assiria, who aunswere Embassades by messengers, while they themselves either dally in sinne, or snort in sleepe. Hir godly zeale to learning, with hir great skil, hath bene so manifestly approved, that I cannot tell whether she deserve more honour for hir knowledge, or admiration for hir curtesie, who in great pompe, hath twice directed hir Progresse unto the Universities, with no lesse joye to the Students, then glory to hir State. Where, after long & solempne disputations in Law, Phisicke, & Divinitie, not as one weried with Schollers arguments, but wedded to their orations, when every one feared to offend in length, she in hir own person, with no lesse praise to hir Majestie, then delight to hir subjects, with a wise & learned conclusion, both gave them thankes, & put hir selfe to paines. O noble patterne of a princelye minde, not like to the kings of Persia, who in their progresses did nothing els but cut stickes to drive away the time, nor like the delicate lives of the Sybarites, who would not admit any Art to be exercised within their citie, that might make the least noyse. Hir wit so sharpe, that if I should repeat the apt aunsweres, the subtil questions, the fine speaches, the pithie sentences, which on the soddain she hath uttered, they wold rather breed admiration then credit. But such are the gifts that the living God hath indued hir with-all, that looke in what Arte or Language, wit or learning, vertue or beautie, any one hath perticularly excelled most, she onely hath generally exceeded every one in al, insomuch, that there is nothing to bee added, that either man would wish in a woman, or God doth give to a creature.

I let passe hir skil in Musicke, hir knowledge in al the other sciences, when as I feare least by my simplicity I shoulde make them lesse then they are, in seeking to shewe howe great they are, unlesse I were praising hir in the gallerie of Olympia, where gyving forth one worde, I might heare seven.

But all these graces although they be to be wondered at, yet hir politique governement, hir prudent counsaile, hir zeale to religion, hir clemencie to those that submit, hir stoutnesse to those that threaten, so farre exceede all other vertues, that they are more easie to be mervailed at, then imitated.

Two and twentie yeares hath she borne the sword with such justice, that neither offenders coulde complaine of rigour, nor the innocent of wrong, yet so tempered with mercie, as malefactours have beene sometimes pardoned upon hope of grace, and the injuried requited to ease their griefe, insomuch that in the whole course of hir glorious raigne, it coulde never be saide, that either the poore were oppressed without remedie, or the guiltie repressed without cause, bearing this engraven in hir noble heart, that justice without mercie were extreame injurie, and pittie without equitie plaine partialitie, and that it is as great tyranny not to mitigate Laws, as iniquitie to breake them.

Hir care for the flourishing of the Gospell hath wel appeared, when as neither the curses of the Pope, (which are blessings to good people) nor the threatenings of kings, (which are perillous to a Prince) nor the perswasions of Papists, (which are Honny to the mouth) could either feare hir, or allure hir, to violate the holy league contracted with Christ, or to maculate the blood of the aunciente Lambe, whiche is Christ. But alwayes constaunt in the true fayth, she hath to the exceeding joye of hir subjectes, to the unspeakeable comforte of hir soule, to the great glorye of God, establyshed that religion, the mayntenance where-of, shee rather seeketh to confirme by fortitude, then leave off for feare, knowing that there is nothing that smelleth sweeter to the Lorde, then a sounde spirite, which neyther the hostes of the ungodlye, nor the horror of death, can eyther remove or move.

This Gospell with invincible courage, with rare constancie, with hotte zeale shee hath maintained in hir owne countries with-out chaunge, and defended against all kingdomes that sought chaunge, insomuch that all nations rounde about hir, threatninge alteration, shaking swordes, throwing fyre, menacing famyne, murther, destruction, desolation, shee onely hath stoode like a Lampe on the toppe of a hill, not fearing the blastes of the sharpe winds, but trusting in his providence that rydeth uppon the winges of the foure windes. Next followeth the love shee beareth to hir subjectes, who no lesse tendereth them, then the apple of hir owne eye, shewing hir selfe a mother to the afflicted, a Phisition to the sicke, a Sovereigne and mylde Governesse to all.

Touchinge hir Magnanimitie, hir Majestie, hir Estate royall, there was neyther Alexander, nor Galba the Emperour, nor any that might be compared with hir.

This is she that resembling the noble Queene of Navarr, useth the Marigolde for hir flower, which at the rising of the Sunne openeth hir leaves, and at the setting shutteth them, referring all hir actions and endevours to him that ruleth the Sunne. This is that Caesar that first bound the Crocodile to the Palme tree, bridling those, that sought to raine hir: This is that good Pelican that to feede hir people spareth not to rend hir owne personne: This is that mightie Eagle, that hath throwne dust into the eyes of the Hart, that went about to worke destruction to hir subjectes, into whose winges although the blinde Beetle would have crept, and so being carryed into hir nest, destroyed hir young ones, yet hath she with the vertue of hir fethers, consumed that flye in his owne fraud.

She hath exiled the Swallowe that sought to spoyle the Grasshopper, and given bytter Almondes to the ravenous Wolves, that endevored to devoure the silly Lambes, burning even with the breath of hir mouth like the princly Stag, the serpents that wer engendred by the breath of the huge Elephant, so that now all hir enimies, are as whist as the bird Attagen, who never singeth any tune after she is taken, nor they beeing so overtaken.

But whether do I wade Ladyes, as one forgetting him-selfe, thinking to sound the depth of hir vertues with a few fadomes, when there is no bottome: For I knowe not how it commeth to passe, that being in this Laborinth, I may sooner loose my selfe, then finde the ende.

Beholde Ladyes in the Glasse a Queene, a woeman, a Virgin, in all giftes of the bodye, in all graces of the minde, in all perfection of eyther, so farre to excell all men, that I know not whether I may thinke the place too badde for hir to dwell amonge men

To talke of other thinges in that Court, wer to bring Egges after apples, or after the setting out of the Sunne, to tell a tale of a Shaddow.

But this I saye, that all offyces are looked to with great care, that vertue is embraced of all, vice hated, religion daily encreased, manners reformed, that who so seeth the place there, will thinke it rather a Church for divine service, then a Court for Princes delight.

This is the Glasse Ladies where-in I would have you gase, where-in I tooke my whole delight, imitate the Ladyes in England, amende your manners, rubbe out the wrinckles of the minde, and be not curious about the weams in the face. As for their Elizabeth, sith you can neyther sufficiently mervaile at hir, nor I prayse hir, let us all pray for hir, which is the onely duetie we can performe, and the greatest that we can proffer.

Yours to commaund

Jovis Elizabeth.

Pallas, Juno, Venus, cum Nympham numine plenam
Spectarunt, "nostra hec," quoeque triumphat, "erit."
Contendunt avide: sic tandem regia Juno,
"Est mea, de magnis stemma petivit avis."
"Hoc leve, (nec sperno tantorum insignia patrum):
Ingenio pollet; dos mea," Pallas ait.
Dulce Venus risit, vultusque in lumina fixit,
"Haec mea" dixit "erit, nam ametur habet.
Judicio Paridis, cm sit proelata venustas,
Ingenium Pallas? Juno quid urget avos?"
Haec Venus: impatiens veteris Saturnia damni,
"Arbiter in coelis non Paris," inquit "erit."
Intumuit Pallas numquam passura priorem,
"Priamides Helenem," dixit, "adulter amet."
Risit, & erubuit, mixto Cytherea colore,
"Judicium," dixit, Juppiter ipse ferat."
Assensere, Jovem, compellant vocibus ultro:
Incipit affari regia Juno Jovem.
"Juppiter, Elizabeth vestras si venit ad aures,
(Quam certe omnino coelica turba stupent)
Hanc Proprian, & merito semper vult esse Monarcham
Quequa suam namque est pulchra, diserta, potens.
Quod pulchra, et Verneris, quod polleat arte, Minerve,
Quod Princeps, Nympham quis neget esse meam?
Arbiter istius, modo vis, certaminis esto,
Sin minus, est nullum lis habitura modum."
Obstupet Omnipotens, "durum est quod poscitis," inquit,
"Est tamen arbitrio res peragenda meo.
Tu soror et conjux Juno, tu filia Pallas,
Es quoque, quid simulem? ter mihi chara Venus.
Non tua, da veniam, Juno, nec Palladis illa est,
Nec Veneris, credas hoc licet alma Venus.
Haec Juno, hec Pallas, Venus hec, & queque Dearum,
Divisum Elizabeth cum Jove numen habet.
Ergo quid obstrepitis? frustra contenditis" inquit,
"Ultima vox haec est, Elizabeth mea est."


Es Jovis Elizabeth, nec quid Jove maius habendum,
Et, Jove teste, Jovi es Juno, Minerva, Venus.

THese Verses Euphues sent also under his Glasse, which having once finished, he gave him-selfe to his booke, determininge to ende his lyfe in Athens, although he hadde a moneths minde to England, who at all tymes, and in all companies, was no niggarde of his good speach to that Nation, as one willyng to live in that Court, and wedded to the manners of that countrey.

It chaunced that being in Athens not passing one quarter of a yeare, he received letters out of England, from Philautus, which I thought necessarye also to insert, that I might give some ende to the matters in England, which at Euphues departure were but rawly left. And thus they follow.

Philautus to his owne

I Have oftentimes (Euphues) since thy departure complained, of the distance of place that I am so farre from thee, of the length of time that I coulde not heare of thee, of the spite of Fortune, that I might not sende to thee, but time at length, and not too late, bicause at last, hath recompensed the injuries of all, offering me both a convenient messenger by whom to send, and straung newes whereof to write.

Thou knowest howe frowarde matters went, when thou tookest shippe, & thou wouldest mervaile to heere howe forwarde they were before thou strokest saile, for I had not beene long in London, sure I am thou wast not then at Athens, when as the corne whiche was greene in the blade, began to wax ripe in the eare, when the seede which I scarce thought to have taken roote, began to spring, when the love of Surius whiche hardly I would have gessed to have a blossome, shewed a budde. But so unkinde a yeare it hath beene in England, that we felt the heate of the Sommer, before we could discerne the temperature of the Spring, insomuch that we were ready to make Haye, before we coulde mowe grasse, having in effecte the Ides of May before the Calends of March, which seeing it is so forward in these things, I mervailed the lesse to see it so redy in matters of love, wher oftentimes they clap hands before they know the bargaine, and seale the Oblygation, before they read the condition.

At my being in the house of Camilla, it happened I found Surius accompanied with two knights, and the Lady Flavia with three other Ladyes, I drew back as one somewhat shamefast, when I was willed to draw neere, as one that was wished for. Who thinking of nothing lesse then to heare a contract for mariage, wher I only expected a conceipt for mirth, I sodainly, yet solempnly, hard those wordes of assurance betweene Surius & Camilla, in the which I had rather have bene a partie, then a witnes, I was not a lyttle amazed to see them strike the yron which I thought colde, & to make an ende before I could heere a beginning. When they saw me as it were in a traunce, Surius taking mee by the hand, began thus to jest.

You muse Philautus to see Camilla & me to bee assured, not that you doubted it unlikely to come to passe, but that you were ignorant of the practises, thinking the diall to stand stil, bicause you cannot perceive it to move. But had you bene privie to all proofes, both of hir good meaning towards me, and of my good wil towards hir, you wold rather have thought great hast to be made, then long deliberation. For this understande, that my friends are unwilling that I shold match so low, not knowing that love thinketh the Juniper shrub, to be as high as the tal Oke, or the Nightingales layes, to be more precious then the Ostritches feathers, or the Lark that breedeth in the ground, to be better then the Hobby that mounteth to the cloudes. I have alwaies hetherto preferred beautie before riches, & honestie before bloud, knowing that birth is the praise we receive of our auncestours, honestie the renowne we leave to our successours, & of to britle goods, riches & beautie, I had rather chuse that which might delyght me, then destroy me. Made mariages by friends, how daungerous they have bene I know, Philautus, and some present have proved, which can be likened to nothing els so well, then as if a man should be constrayned to pull on a shoe by an others last, not by the length of his owne foote, which beeing too little, wrings him that weares it, not him that made it, if too bigge, shameth him that hath it, not him that gave it. In meates, I love to carve wher I like, & in mariage shall I be carved where I lyke not? I had as liefe an other shold take mesure by his back, of my apparel, as appoint what wife I shal have, by his minde.

In the choyce of a wife, sundry men are of sundry mindes, one looketh high as one that feareth no chips, saying that the oyle that swimmeth in the top is the wholsomest, an other poreth in the ground, as dreading al daungers that happen in great stocks, alledging that the honny that lieth in the bottome is the sweetest, I assent to neither, as one willing to follow the meane, thinking that the wine which is in the middest to be the finest. That I might therfore match to mine owne minde, I have chosen Camilla, a virgin of no noble race, nor yet the childe of a base father, but betweene both, a Gentle-woman of an auncient and worshipfull house, in beautie inferior to none, in vertue superior to a number.

Long time we loved, but neither durst she manifest hir affection, bicause I was noble, nor I utter myne, for feare of offence, seeing in hir alwayes a minde more willing to cary torches before Vesta, then tapers before Juno. But as fire when it bursteth out catcheth hold soonest of the dryest wood, so love when it is reveyled, fasteneth easiest upon the affectionate will, which came to passe in both us, for talking of Love, of his lawes, of his delyghts, torments, and all other braunches, I coulde neither so dissemble my liking, but that she espied it, where at I began to sigh, nor she so cloake hir love, but that I perceived it, where at shee began to blush: at the last, though long time strayning curtesie who should goe over the stile, when we both had hast, I (for that I knew women would rather die, then seeme to desire) began first to unfolde the extremities of my passions, the causes of my love, the constancie of my faith, the which she knowing to bee true, easely beleeved, and replyed in the like manner, which I thought not certeine, not that I misdoubted hir faith, but that I coulde not perswade my selfe of so good fortune. Having thus made ech other privie to our wished desires, I frequented more often to Camilla, which caused my friendes to suspect that, which nowe they shall finde true, and this was the cause that we al meete heere, that before this good company, we might knit that knot with our tongues, that we shall never undoe with our teeth.

This was Surius speach unto me, which Camilla with the rest affirmed. But I Euphues, in whose hart the stumpes of Love were yet sticking, beganne to chaunge colour, feelyng as it were newe stormes to arise after a pleasant calme, but thinking with my selfe, that the time was past to woe hir, that an other was to wedde, I digested the Pill which had almost chockt me. But time caused me to sing a new Tune as after thou shalt heare.

After much talke and great cheere, I taking my leave departed, being willed to visite the Ladie Flavia at my leasure, which worde was to me in steede of a welcome.

Within a while after it was noysed that Surius was assured to Camilla, which bread great quarrells, but hee like a noble Gentle-man rejoycing more in his Love, then esteeminge the losse of his friendes, maugre them all was maried, not in a chamber privatelye as one fearing tumultes, but openlye in the Church, as one ready to aunswer any objections.

This mariage solemnised, could not be recalled, which caused his Allies to consent, and so all parties pleased, I thinke them the happyest couple in the worlde.

NOw Euphues thou shalt understand, that all hope being cut off, from obtaining Camilla, I began to use the advauntage of the word, that Lady Flavia cast out, whome I visited more lyke to a sojourner, then a straunger, being absent at no time from breackfast, till evening.

Draffe was mine arrand, but drinke I would, my great curtesie was to excuse my greevous tormentes: for I ceased not continuallye to courte my violette, whome I never found so coye as I thought, nor so curteous as I wished. At the last thinking not to spend all my wooinge in signes, I fell to flatte sayinges, revealing the bytter sweetes that I sustained, the joy at hir presence, the griefe at hir absence, with al speeches that a Lover myght frame: She not degenerating from the wyles of a woeman, seemed to accuse men of inconstancie, that the painted wordes were but winde, that feygned sighes, were but sleyghtes, that all their love, was but to laugh, laying baites to catch the fish, that they meant agayne to throw into the ryver, practisinge onelye cunninge to deceyve, not curtesie, to tell trueth, where-in she compared all Lovers, to Mizaldus the Poet, which was so lyght that every winde would blowe him awaye, unlesse hee had lead tyed to his heeles, and to the fugitive stone in Cyzico, which runneth away if it be not fastened to some post.

Thus would she dally, a wench ever-more given to such disporte: I aunswered for my selfe as I could, and for all men as I thought.

Thus oftentimes we had conference, but no conclusion, many meetinges, but few pastimes, untill at the last Surius one that could quickly perceive, on which side my bread was buttered, beganne to breake with me touching Frauncis, not as though he had heard any thing, but as one that would understand some-thing. I durst not seeme straunge when I founde him so curteous, knowing that in this matter he might almoste worke all to my lyking.

I unfolded to him from time to time, the whole discourses I had with my Violet, my earnest desire to obtaine hir, my landes, goodes, and revenues, who hearing my tale, promised to further my suite, where-in he so besturred his studie, that with-in one moneth, I was in possibilitie to have hir, I most wished, and least looked for.

It were too too long to write an historie, being but determined to send a Letter: therefore I will diferre all the actions and accidentes that happened, untill occasion shall serve eyther to meete thee, or minister leasure to me.

To this ende it grewe, that conditions drawen for the performaunce of a certain joynter (for the which I had manye Italians bounde) we were both made as sure as Surius and Camilla.

Hir dowrie was in redy money a thousand pounds, and a fayre house, where-in I meane shortelye to dwell. The joynter I must make is foure hundred poundes yearelye, the which I must heere purchase in England, and sell my landes in Italy.

Now Euphues imagine with thy self that Philautus beginneth to chaunge, although in one yeare to marie and to thrive it be hard.

But would I might once againe see thee heere, unto whome thou shalt be no lesse welcome, then to thy best friende.

Surius that noble Gentleman commendeth him unto thee, Camilla forgetteth thee not, both earnestly wish thy returne, with great promises to do thee good, whether thou wish it in the court or in the countrey, and this I durst sweare, that if thou come againe into England, thou wilt be so friendly entreated, that either thou wilt altogether dwell here, or tarry here longer.

The Lady Flavia saluteth thee, and also my Violet, every one wisheth thee so well, as thou canst wish thy selfe no better.

Other newes here is none, but that which lyttle apperteyneth to mee, and nothing to thee.

Two requestes I have to make, aswell from Surius as my selfe, the one to come into England, the other to heare thyne aunswere. And thus in hast I byd the farewell. From London the first of Februarie. 1579.

Thyne or not his owne:

THis Letter being delivered to Euphues, and well perused, caused him both to mervaile, and to joy, seeing all thinges so straungly concluded, and his friende so happilye contracted: having therefore by the same meanes opportunitie to send aunswere, by the whiche he had pleasure to receive newes, he dispatched his letter in this forme.

Euphues to Philautus.

THer cold nothing have come out of England, to Euphues more welcome then thy letters, unlesse it had bin thy person, which when I had throughly perused, I could not at the first, either beleeve them for the straungnes, or at the last for the happinesse: for upon the sodaine to heare such alterations of Surius, passed all credit, and to understand so fortunate successe to Philautus, all expectation: yet considering that manye thinges fall betweene the cup and the lippe, that in one lucky houre more rare things come to passe, then sometimes in seven yeare, that mariages are made in heaven, though consumated in yearth, I was brought both to beleeve the events, and to allow them. Touching Surius and Camilla, there is no doubt but that they both will lyve well in mariage, who loved so well before theyr matching, and in my mind he delt both wisly & honorably, to prefer vertue before vain-glory, and the godly ornaments of nature, before the rich armour of nobilitie: for this must we all think, (how well soever we think of our selves) that vertue is most noble, by the which men became first noble. As for thine own estat, I will be bold to counsel thee, knowing it never to be more necessary to use advise then in the mariag. Solon gave counsel that before one assured him-self he shoud be so warie, that in tying him-selfe fast, he did not undo him-selfe, wishing them first to eat a Quince peare, that is to have sweete conference with-out brawles, then salt to be wise with-out boasting.

In Boeotia they covered the bride with Asparagonia the nature of the which plant is, to bring sweete fruit out of a sharpe thorne, wher-by they noted, that although the virgin were somwhat shrewishe at the first, yet in time shee myght become a sheepe.

Therefore Philautus, if thy Vyolet seeme in the first moneth either to chide or chafe, thou must heare with out reply, and endure it with patience, for they that can-not suffer the wranglyngs of young maryed women, are not unlyke unto those, that tasting the grape to be sower before it be ripe, leave to gather it when it is ripe, resemblyng them, that being stong with the Bee, forsake the Honny.

Thou must use sweete words, not bitter checkes, & though haply thou wilt say that wandes are to be wrought when they are greene, least they rather break then bende when they be drye, yet know also, that he that bendeth a twigge, bicause he would see if it wold bow by strength, maye chaunce to have a crooked tree, when he would have a streight.

It is pretelye noted of a contention betweene the Winde, and the Sunne, who should have the victory. A Gentleman walking abroad, the Winde thought to blowe of his cloake, which with great blastes and blusterings striving to unloose it, made it to stick faster to his backe, for the more the winde encreased, the closer his cloake clapt to his body, then the Sunne, shining with his hoat beames began to warm this gentleman, who waxing somwhat faint in this faire weather, did not onely put of his cloake but his coate, wich the Wynde perceiving, yeelded the conquest to the Sunne.

In the very like manner fareth it with young wives, for if their husbands with great threatnings, with jarres, with braules, seeke to make them tractable, or bend their knees, the more stiffe they make them in the joyntes, the oftener they goe about by force to rule them, the more froward they finde them, but using milde words, gentle perswasions, familyar counsaile, entreatie, submission, they shall not onely make them to bow their knees, but to hold up their hands, not onely cause them to honour them, but to stand in awe of them: for their stomackes are al framed of Diamond, which is not to be brused with a hammer but bloode, not byforce, but flatterie, resemblyng the Cocke, who is not to be feared by a Serpent, but a glead. They that feare theyr Vines will make too sharpe wine, must not cutte the armes, but graft next to them Mandrage, which causeth the grape to be more pleasaunt. They that feare to have curst wives, must not with rigor seeke to calme them, but saying gentle words in every place by them, which maketh them more qyet.

Instruments sound sweetest, when they be touched softest, women waxe wisest, when they be used mildest. The horse striveth when he is hardly rayned, but having the bridle never stirreth, women are starke mad if they be ruled by might, with with a gentle rayne they will beare a white mouth. Gal was cast out from the sacrifice of Juno, which betokened that the mariage bed should be without bitternes. Thou must be a glasse to they wife for in thy face must she see hir owne, for if when thou laughest she weepe, when thou mournest she gigle, the one is a manifest signe she delighteth in others, the other a token she dispiseth thee. Be in thy behaviour modest, temperate, sober, for as thou framest thy manners, so wil thy wife fit hirs. Kings that be wrastlers cause their subjects to exercise that feate. Princes that are Musitians incite their people to use Instruments, husbands that are chast and godly, cause also their wives to imitate their goodnesse.

For thy great dowry that ought to be in thine owne handes, for as we call that wine, where-in there is more then halfe water, so doe we tearme that, the goods of the husband which his wife bringeth, though it be all.

Helen gaped for goods, Paris for pleasure, Ulysses was content with chast Penelope, so let it be with thee, that whatsoever others marie for, be thou alwayes satisfied with vertue, otherwise may I use that speach to thee that Olympias did to a young Gentleman who only tooke a wife for beautie, saying: this Gentleman hath onely maryed his eyes, but by that time he have also wedded his eare, he wil confesse that a faire shooe wringe, though it be smoothe in the wearing.

Lycurgus made a law that there should be no dowry given with Maidens, to the ende that the vertuous might be maryed, who commonly have lyttle, not the amorous, who oftentimes have to much.

Behave thy self modestly with thy wife before company, remembring the severitie of Cato, who removed Manilius from the Senate, for that he was seene to kisse his wife in presence of his daughter: olde men are seldome merry before children, least their laughter might breede in them loosenesse, husbands shold scarce jest before their wives, least want of modestie on their parts, be cause of wantonnes on their wives part. Imitate the Kings of Persia, who when they were given to ryot, kept no company with their wives, but when they used good order, had their Queenes ever at their table. Give no example of lyghtnesse, for looke what thou practisest most, that will thy wife follow most, though it becommeth hir least. And yet woulde I not have thy wife so curious to please thee, that fearing least hir husband shold thinke she painted hir face, she shold not therefore wash it, onely let hir refraine from such things as she knoweth cannot wel like thee, he that commeth before an Elephant will not weare bright colors, nor he that commeth to a Bul, red, nor he that standeth by a Tiger, play on a Taber: for that by the sight or noyse of these things, they are commonly much incensed. In the lyke manner, there is no wife if she be honest, that will practise those things, that to hir mate shall seeme displeasaunt, or move him to cholar.

Be thriftie and warie in thy expences, for in olde time, they were as soone condemned by law that spent their wives dowry prodigally, as they that divorced them wrongfuly.

Flye that vyce which is peculiar to al those of thy countrey, Jelousie: for if thou suspect without cause, it is the next way to have cause, women are to bee ruled by their owne wits, for be they chast, no golde canne winne them, if immodest no griefe can amende them, so that all mistrust is either needelesse or bootlesse.

Be not too imperious over hir, that will make hir to hate thee, nor too submisse, that will cause hir to disdaine thee, let hir neither be thy slave, nor thy sovereigne, for if she lye under thy foote she will never love thee, if clyme above thy head never care for thee: the one will breed thy shame to love hir to little, the other thy griefe to suffer too much.

In governing thy householde, use thine owne eye, and hir hande, for huswifery consisteth as much in seeing things as setlyng things, and yet in that goe not above thy latchet, for Cookes are not to be taught in the Kitchin, nor Painters in their shoppes, nor Huswives in their houses, let al the keyes hang at hir girdel, but the pursse at thine, so shalt thou knowe what thou dost spend, and how she can spare.

Breake nothing of thy stocke, for as the Stone Thyrrenus beeing whole, swimmeth, but never so lyttle diminished, sinketh to the bottome: so a man having his stocke full, is ever a float, but wasting of his store, becommeth bankerout.

Enterteine such men as shall be trustie, for if thou keepe a Wolfe within thy doores to doe mischiefe, or a Foxe to work craft and subtiltie, thou shalt finde it as perrilous, as if in thy barnes thou shouldest mainteyne Myce, or in the groundes Moles.

Let thy Maydens be such, as shal seeme readier to take paynes, then follow pleasure, willinger to dresse up theyr house, then their heades, not so fine fingered, to call for a Lute, when they shoulde use the distaffe, nor so dainetie mouthed, that their silken throtes should shallow no packthred.

For thy dyet be not sumptuous, nor yet simple: For thy attyre not costly, nor yet clownish, but cutting thy coat by thy cloth, go no farther then shal become thy estate, least thou be thought proude, and so envied, nor debase not thy byrth, least thou be deemed poore, and so pittied.

Now thou art come to that honourable estate, forget all thy former follyes, and debate with thy selfe, that here-to-fore thou diddest but goe about the world, and that nowe, thou art come into it, that Love did once make thee to folow ryot, that it muste now enforce thee to pursue thrifte, that then there was no pleasure to bee compared to the courting of Ladyes, that now there can be no delight greater then to have a wife.

Commend me humbly to that noble man Surius, and to his good Lady Camilla.

Let my duetie to the Ladie Flavia be remembred, and to thy Violyt, let nothing that may be added, be forgotten.

Thou wouldest have me come againe into England, I woulde but I can-not: But if thou desire to see Euphues, when thou art willing to visite thine Uncle, I will meete thee, in the meane season, know, that it is as farre from Athens to England, as from England to Athens.

Thou sayest I am much wished for, that many fayre promises are made to mee: Truely Philautus I know that a friende in the court is better then a penny in the purse, but yet I have heard that suche a friend cannot be gotten in the court without pence.

Fayre words fatte fewe, great promises without performance, delight for the tyme, but yerke ever after.

I canot but thanke Surius, who wisheth me well, and all those that at my beeing in England lyked me wel. And so with my hartie commendations untill I heare from thee, I bid thee farewell.

Thine to use, if mariage chaunge not manners,

THis Letter dispatched, Euphues gave himselfe to solitarinesse, determining to sojourne in some uncauth place, until time might turne white salt into fine sugar: for surely he was both tormented in body and grieved in mind.

And so I leave him, neither in Athens nor els where that I know: But this order he left with his friends, that if any newes came or letters, that they should direct them to the Mount of Silixsedra, where I leave him, either to his musing or Muses.

GEntlemen, Euphues is musing in the bottome of the Mountaine Silexsedra, Philautus marryed in the Isle of England: two friendes parted, the one living in the delightes of his newe wife, the other in contemplation of his olde griefes.

What Philautus doeth, they can imagine that are newly married, how Euphues liveth, they may gesse that are cruelly martyred: I commit them both to stand to their owne bargaines, for if I should meddle any farther with the marriage of Philautus, it might happely make him jealous, if with the melancholy of Euphues, it, might cause him to be cholaricke: so the one would take occasion to rub his head, sit his hat never so close, and the other offence, to gall his heart, be his case never so quiet. I Gentlewomen, am indifferent for it may be, that Philautus would not have his life knowen which he leadeth in mariage, nor Euphues, his love descryed, which he beginneth in solitarinesse: least either the one being too kind, mighte be thought to dote, or the other too constant, might be judged to bee madde. But were the trueth knowen, I am sure Gentle-
women, it would be a hard question among Ladies, whe-
ther Philautus were a better wooer, or a husband, whe-
ther Euphues were a better lover, or a scholler. But
let the one marke the other, I leave them both,
to conferre at theyr next meeting, and
committe you, to the Al-


Imprinted at London, by Thomas East, for Gabriel
Cawood dwelling in Paules Churchyard. 1580.

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