Gallathea__.

As it was playde before
the Queenes Maiestie at
Greene-wiche, on Newyeeres
day at Night.
(⁂)

By the Chyldren of
Paules.

AT LONDON,
Printed by Iohn Charl-
woode for the VVid-
dow Broome.
1592.

THE Sunne dooth beate
vppon the playne fieldes,
wherefore let vs sit downe
Gallathea, vnder this faire
Oake, by whose broade
leaues, beeing defended
from the warme beames, we may enioy the fresh ayre,
which softly breathes from Humber floodes.

Father, you haue deuised well, and whilst our
flocke doth roame vp and downe thys pleasant greene,
you shall recount to mee, if it please you, for what cause
thys Tree was dedicated vnto Neptune, and why you
haue thus disguised me.

I doe agree thereto, and when thy state and
my care be considered, thou shalt knowe thys question
was not asked in vaine.

I willingly attend.

In tymes past, where thou seest a heape
of small pyble, stoode a stately Temple of white Mar-
ble, which was dedicated to the God of the Sea, (and in
right beeing so neere the Sea) hether came all such as

eyther ventured by long trauell to see Countries, or by
great traffique to vse merchandise, offering Sacrifice by
fire, to gette safety by water; yeelding thanks for per-
rils past, & making prayers for good successe to come;
but Fortune, constant in nothing but inconstancie, did
change her copie, as the people their custome, for the
Land being oppressed by Danes, who in steed of sacri-
fice, committed sacrilidge, in steede of religion, rebelli-
on, and made a pray of that in which they should haue
made theyr prayers, tearing downe the Temple euen
with the earth, being almost equall with the skyes, en-
raged so the God who bindes the windes in the hol-
lowes of the earth, that he caused the Seas to breake
their bounds, sith men had broke their vowes, and to
swell as farre aboue theyr reach, as men had swarued
beyond theyr reason: then might you see shippes sayle
where sheepe fedde, ankers cast where ploughes goe,
fishermen throw theyr nets, where husbandmen sowe
theyr Corne, and fishes throw their scales where fowles
doe breede theyr quils: then might you gather froth
where nowe is dewe, rotten weedes for sweete roses, &
take viewe of monstrous Maremaides, insteed of pas-
sing faire Maydes.

To heare these sweete maruailes, I would
mine eyes were turned also into eares.

But at the last, our Country-men repenting,
and not too late, because at last, Neptune either wearie
of his wroth, or warie to doe them wrong, vpon condi-
tion consented to ease theyr miseries.

What condition will not miserable men ac-
cept?

The condition was this, that at euery fiue
yeeres day, the fairest and chastest virgine in all the
Countrey, should be brought vnto this Tree, & heere
beeing bound, (whom neither parentage shall excuse

for honour, nor vertue for entegrity) is left for a peace
offering vnto Neptune.

Deere is the peace that is bought with guilt-
lesse blood.

I am not able to say that, but hee sendeth a
Monster called the Agar, against whose comming the
waters rore, the fowles flie away, and the Cattell in the
field for terror, shunne the bankes.

And she bound to endure that horror?

And she bound to endure that horror.

Doth thys Monster deuoure her?

Whether she be deuoured of him, or conuei-
ed to Neptune, or drowned between both, it is not per-
mitted to knowe, and encurreth danger to coniecture;
Now Gallathea heere endeth my tale, & beginneth thy
tragedie.

Alas father, and why so?

I would thou hadst beene lesse faire, or more
fortunate, then shouldest thou not repine that I haue
disguised thee in this attyre, for thy beautie will make
thee to be thought worthy of this God; to auoide ther-
fore desteny (for wisedome ruleth the stars) I thinke it
better to vse an vnlawfull meanes (your honour preser-
ued) then intollerable greefe, both life and honor ha-
zarded, and to preuent (if it be possible) thy constella-
tion by my craft. Now hast thou heard the custome of
this Countrey, the cause why thys Tree was dedicated
vnto Neptune, and the vexing care of thy fearefull Fa-
ther.

Father, I haue beene attentiue to heare, and
by your patience am ready to aunswer. Destenie may
be deferred, not preuented; and therefore it were bet-
ter to offer my selfe in tryumph, then to be drawne to
it with dishonour. Hath nature (as you say) made mee
so faire aboue all, and shall not vertue make mee as fa-

mous as others? Doe you not knowe, (or dooth ouer-
carefulnes make you forget) that an honorable death is
to be preferred before an infamous life. I am but a child,
and haue not liued long, and yet not so childish, as I de-
sire to liue euer: vertues I meane to carry to my graue,
not gray haires. I woulde I were as sure that destiny
would light on me, as I am resolued it could not feare
me. Nature hath giueē me beauty, Vertue courage, Na-
ture must yeeld mee death, Vertue honor. Suffer mee
therefore to die, for which I was borne, or let me curse
that I was borne, sith I may not die for it.

Alas Gallathea, to consider the causes of
change, thou art too young, and that I should find them
out for thee, too too fortunate.

The destenie to me cannot be so hard as the
disguising hatefull.

To gaine loue, the Gods haue taken shapes
of beastes, and to saue life art thou coy to take the at-
tire of men?

They were beastly gods, that lust could make
them seeme as beastes.

In health it is easie to counsell the sicke, but
it’s hard for the sicke to followe wholesome counsaile.
Well let vs depart, the day is farre spent.

Faire Nimphe, are you strayed from your
companie by chaunce, or loue you to wander solitarily
on purpose?

Faire boy, or god, or what euer you bee, I
would you knew these woods are to me so wel known,
that I cannot stray though I would, and my minde so
free, that to be melancholy I haue no cause. There is
none of Dianaes trayne that any can traine, either out

of their waie, or out of their wits.

What is that Diana a goddesse? what her
Nimphes virgins? what her pastimes hunting?

A goddesse? who knowes it not? Virgins?
who thinkes it not? Hunting? who loues it not?

I pray thee sweete wench, amongst all your
sweete troope, is there not one that followeth the swee-
test thing. Sweete loue?

Loue good sir, what meane you by it? or
what doe you call it?

A heate full of coldnesse, a sweet full of bit-
ternesse, a paine ful of pleasantnesse, which maketh
thoughts haue eyes, and harts eares, bred by desire, nur-
sed by delight, weaned by ielousie, kild by dissembling,
buried by ingratitude, and this is loue, fayre Lady wil
you any?

If it be nothing els, it is but a foolish thing.

Try, and you shall find it a prettie thing.

I haue neither will nor leysure, but I will fol-
lowe Diana in the Chace, whose virgins are all chast, de-
lighting in the bowe that wounds the swift Hart in the
Forrest, not fearing the bowe that strikes the softe hart
in the Chamber. This difference is betweene my Mi-
stris Diana, and your Mother (as I gesse) Venus, that
all her Nimphes are amiable and wise in theyr kinde,
the other amorous and too kinde for their sexe; and so
farewell little god.

Diana, and thou, and all thine, shall knowe
that Cupid is a great god, I will practise a while in
these woodes, and play such pranckes with these
Nimphes, that while they ayme to hit others with their
Arrowes, they shall be wounded themselues with their
owne eyes.

Come Phillida, faire Phillida, and I feare
me too faire being my Phillida, thou knowest the cu-
stome of this Countrey, & I the greatnes of thy beau-
tie, we both the fiercenesse of the monster Agar. Eue-
rie one thinketh his owne childe faire, but I know that
which I most desire, and would least haue, that thou art
fairest. Thou shalt therefore disguise thy selfe in attire,
least I should disguise my selfe in affection, in suffering
thee to perrish by a fond desire, whom I may preserue
by a sure deceipt.

Deere father, Nature could not make mee so
faire as she hath made you kinde, nor you more kinde
then me dutifull. What soeuer you commaunde I will
not refuse, because you commaund nothing but my sa-
fetie, and your happinesse. But howe shall I be disgui-
sed?

In mans apparell.

It wil neither become my bodie, nor my minde.

Why Phillida?

For then I must keepe companie with boyes,
and commit follies vnseemelie for my sexe, or keepe
company with girles, and be thought more wanton
then becommeth me. Besides, I shall be ashamed of my
long hose and short coate, and so vnwarelie blabbe out
something by blushing at euery thing.

Feare not Phillida, vse will make it easie,
feare must make it necessarie.

I agree, since my father will haue it so, and
fortune must.

Come let vs in, and when thou art disgui-
sed, roame about these woods till the time be past, and
Neptune pleased.

Now Mariner, what callest thou this sport on
the Sea?

It is called a wracke.

I take no pleasure in it. Of all deathes I wold
not be drownd, ones clothes will be so wet when hee is
taken vp.

What calst thou the thing wee were bounde
to?

A raughter.

I wyll rather hang my selfe on a raughter in
the house, then be so haled in the Sea, there one may
haue a leape for his lyfe; but I maruaile howe our Ma-
ster speedes.

Ile warrant by this time he is wetshod. Dyd
you euer see water buble as the Sea did? But what shall
we doe?

You are now in Lyncolnshire, where you can want
no foule, if you can deuise meanes to catch them,
there be woods hard by, and at euery myles ende hou-
ses: so that if you seeke on the Lande, you shall speede
better then on the Sea.

Sea, nay I will neuer saile more, I brooke not
their diet: their bread is so hard, that one must carrie a
whetstone in his mouth to grinde his teeth: the meate
so salt, that one woulde thinke after dinner his tongue
had beene powdred ten daies.

O thou hast a sweet life Mariner to be pinde
in a few boordes, and to be within an inche of a thing
bottomlesse. I pray thee howe often hast thou beene
drowned?

Foole thou seest I am yet aliue.

Why be they deade that be drownd, I had

thought they had beene with the fish, and so by chance
beene caught vp with them in a Nette againe. It were
a shame a little cold water should kill a man of reason,
when you shall ee a poore Mynow lie in it, that hath
no vnderstanding.

Thou art wise from the crowne of thy heade
vpwards; seeke you new fortunes nowe, I will followe
mine olde. I can shift the Moone and the Sunne, and
know by one Carde, what all you cannot do by a whole
payre. The Lode-stone that alwaies holdeth his nose
to the North, the two and thirty poynts for the winde,
the wonders I see woulde make all you blinde: you be
but boyes, I feare the Sea no more then a dis of water.
Why fooles it is but a liquid element, farewell.

It were good wee learned his cunning at the
Cardes, for we must liue by cosenage, we haue neyther
Lands nor wit, nor Maisters, nor honestie.

Nay I would faine haue his thirty two, that is,
his three dozen lacking foure points, for you see be-
twixt vs three there is not two good points.

Let vs call him a little backe that wee may
learne those points. Sirra a word, I pray thee shewe vs
thy points.

Will you learne?

I.

Then as you like this I will instruct you in
all our secretes: for there is not a clowte nor carde, nor
boord, nor post, that hath not a speciall name, or singu-
ler nature.

Well begin with your points, for I lacke on-
lie points in this world.

North. North & by East. North North East.
North-east and by North, North-east. North-east and
by East. East North-east, East and by North. East.

Ile say it, North, north-east, North-east, Nore

nore and by Nore-east. I shall neuer doe it.

Thys is but one quarter.

I shall neuer learne a quarter of it. I will try.
North, North-east, is by the West side, North and by
North.

Passing ill.

Hast thou no memorie. Try thou.

North North and by North. I can goe no fur-
ther.

O dullerde, is thy head lighter then the wind,
and thy tongue so heauie it will not wagge. I will once
againe say it.

I will neuer learne this language, it wil get but
small liuing, when it will scarce be learned till one bee
olde.

Nay then farewell, and if your fortunes ex-
ceede not your wits, you shall starue before ye sleepe.

Was there euer such cosening? Come let vs
to the woods, and see what fortune we may haue be-
fore they be made shippes: as for our Maister hee is
drownd.

I will this way.

I this.

I this, & this day twelue-month let vs all meete
heere againe: it may be we shall eyther beg together, or
hang together.

It skils not so we be together. But let vs sing
now, though we cry heereafter. Exeunt.

BLush Gallathea that must frame thy affec-
tion fitte for thy habite, and therefore be
thought immodest, because thou art vnfortunate. Thy

tender yeeres cannot dissemble this deceipt, nor thy
sexe beare it. O woulde the gods had made mee as I
seeme to be, or that I might safelie be what I seeme not.
Thy Father doteth Gallathea, whose blind loue cor-
rupteth his fonde iudgement, and iealous of thy death,
seemeth to dote on thy beauty, whose fonde care carri-
eth his parciall eye as farre from trueth, as his hart is fro
falshood. But why doost thou blame him or blab what
thou art, when thou shouldest onelie counterfet what
thou art not. But whist, heere commeth a ladde: I will
learne of him how to behaue my selfe.

I neither like my gate, nor my garments, the
one vntoward, the other vnfit, both vnseemely. O Phil-
lida, but yonder staieth one, and therefore say nothing.
But ô Phillida.

I perceiue that boyes are in as great disliking
of themselues as maides, therefore though I weare the
apparell, I am glad I am not the person.

It is a pretty boy and a faire, hee might well
haue beene a woman, but because he is not, I am glad I
am, for nowe vnder the color of my coate, I shall deci-
pher the follies of their kind.

I would salute him, but I feare I should make
a curtsie in steed of a legge.

If I durst trust my face as well as I doe my
habite, I would spend some time to make pastime, for
saie what they will of a mans wit, it is no seconde thing
to be a woman.

All the blood in my bodie would be in my
face, if he should aske me (as the question among men
is common) are you a maide?

Why stande I still, boyes shoulde be bolde,
but heere commeth a braue traine that will spill all our
talke.

God speede faire boy.

You are deceiued Ladie.

Why, are you no boy?

No faire boy.

But I see an vnhappie boy.

Saw you not the Deare come this waie, hee
flewe downe the winde, & I beleeue you haue blancht
him.

Whose Deare was it Ladie?

Dianaes Deare.

I saw none but mine owne Deare.

This wagge is wanton or a foole, aske the
 other, Diana.

I knowe not howe it commeth to passe, but
yonder boy is in mine eye too beautifull, I pray gods the
Ladies thinke him not their Deare.

Prettie lad, doe your sheepe feede in the For-
rest, or are you straied from you flocke, or on purpose
come ye to marre Dianaes pastime?

I vnderstand not one word you speake.

VVhat art thou neither Ladde nor sheepe-
 hearde?

My mother said I could be no ladde til I was
twentie yeere olde, nor keepe sheepe till I coulde tell
them; and therefore Ladie neither lad nor sheephearde
is heere.

These boyes are both agreed, either they are
verie pleasant or too peruerse: you were best Ladie
make them tuske these VVoodes, whilst wee stande
with our bowes, and so vse them as Beagles since they
haue so good mouthes.

I wil. Follow me without delaie, or excuse, &
if you can doe nothing, yet shall you hallow the Deare.

I am willing to goe, not for these Ladies co -
panie, because my selfe am a virgine, but for that fayre
boyes fauor, who I thinke be a God.

You sir boy shall also goe.

I must if you commaunde, and would if you
had not. Exeunt.  

Nowe Cupid, vnder the shape of a sillie
girle shewe the power of a mightie God. Let Diana
and all her coy Nimphes know, that there is no hart so
chaste but thy bowe can wounde, nor eyes so modest,
but thy brandes can kindle, nor thoughts so staied, but
thy shafts can make wauering, weake and wanton: Cu-
pid though he be a child, is no babie. I will make their
paines my pastimes, & so confound their loues in their
owne sexe, that they shall dote in their desires, delight
in their affections, and practise onely impossibilities.
Whilst I trewant from my mother, I will vse some ty-
ranny in these woodes, and so shall their exercise in foo-
lish loue, be my excuse for running away. I wil see whi-
ther faire faces be alwaies chast, or Dianaes virgins one-
lie modest, els will I spende both my shafts and shyfts,
and then Ladies if you see these daintie Dames intrapt
in loue, saie softlie to your selues, wee may all loue.

Doe sillie Sheepeheards goe about to de-
ceiue great Neptune, in putting on mans attire vppon
women: and Cupid to make sport deceiue them all, by
vsing a vvomans apparell vpon a God, then Neptune
that hast taken sundrie shapes to obtaine loue, stick not
to practise some deceipt to shew thy deitie, and hauing
oftē thrust thy self into the shape of beastes to deceiue

men be not coy to vse the shape of a Sheepehearde, to
shew thy selfe a God. Neptune cannot be ouer-reached
by Swaines, himselfe is subtile, and if Diana be ouer-
taken by craft, Cupid is wise. I will into these woodes
and marke all, and in the end will marre all. Exit.

Call you this seeking of fortunes when one
can finde nothing but byrds nestes? would I were out
of these VVoodes, for I shall haue but wodden lucke,
heers nothing but the skreeking of Owles, croking of
Frogs, hissing of Adders, barking of Foxes, walking of
Hagges. But what be these?

I will follow them, to hell I shall not goe, for so faire
faces neuer can haue such hard fortunes. What blacke
boy is this.

What a life doe I leade with my Maister no-
thing but blowing of bellows, beating of spirits, & scra-
ping of Croslets? it is a very secrete Science, for none
almost can vnderstand the language of it. Sublimation,
Almigation, Calcination, Rubification, Encorporati-
on, Circination, Sementation, Albification, and Fre-
mentation. With as many termes vnpossible to be vtte-
red, as the Arte to be compassed.

Let me crosse my elfe, I neuer heard so many
great deuils in a little Monkies mouth.

Then our instruments, Croslets, Subliuato-
ries, Cucurbits, Limbecks, Decensores, Violes, manu-
all and murall, for enbibing and conbibing, Bellowes,
molificatiue and enduratiue.

What language is this? doe they speake so?

Then our Mettles, Saltpeeter, Vitrioll, Sal
tartar, Sal perperat, Argon, Resagar, Sal Armonick, E-
grimony, Lumany, Brimstone, Valerian, Tartar Alam,
Breeme-worte, Glasse, Vnsleked lyme, Chalke, A-
shes; hayre; and what not, to make I know not what.

My haire beginneth to stande vpright, would
the boy would make an end.

And yet such a beggerly Science it is, and so
strong on multiplication, that the ende is to haue ney-
ther gold, wit, nor honestie.

Then am I iust of thy occupation. What fel-
low, well met.

Felow, vpon what acquaintance?

Why thou saist, the end of thy occupation is
to haue neither wit, money, nor honestie: & me thinks
at a blush, thou shouldest be one of my occupation.

Thou art deceiued, my Maister is an Alcu-
 mist.

Whats that, a man?

A little more then a man, and a hayres bredth
lesse then a God. He can make of thy cap gold, and by
multiplication of one grote, three old Angels. I haue
knowne him of the tagge of a poynt, to make a siluer
boole of a pint.

That makes thee haue neuer a point, they be al
turned to pots: but if he can doe thys, he shall be a god
altogether.

Yf thou haue any gold to worke on, thou art
then made for euer: for with one pound of golde, hee
will goe neere to paue tenne Akers of ground.

Howe might a man serue him and learne hys
cunning?

Easilie. First seeme to vnderstand the termes,
and speciallie marke these points. In our Arte there are
foure Spirits.

Nay I haue doone if you worke with deuils.

Thou art grosse; we call those Spirits that are
the grounds of our Arte, & as it were the mettles more
incorporatiue for domination. The first Spirit is Quick-siluer.

That is my Spirit, for my siluer is so quicke,
that I haue much a doe to catch it, and when I haue it,
it is so nimble that I cannot holde it; I thought there
was a deuill in it.

The second, Orpyment.

Thats no Spirit, but a worde to coniure a
 Spirit.

The third, Sal Armoniack.

A propper word.

The fourth, Brimstone.

Thats a stincking Spirit, I thought there was
some spirit in it because it burnt so blew. For my Mo-
ther would often tell mee that when the candle burnt
blew, there was some ill Spirit in the house, and now I
perceiue it was the spirit Brimstone.

Thou cast remember these foure spirits.

Let me alone to coniure them.

Now are there also seauen bodies, but heere
 commeth my Maister.

This is a begger.

No, such cunning men must disguise them-
selues, as though there were nothing in them for other-
wise they shall be compelled to worke for Princes, and
so be constrained to bewray their secrets.

I like not his attire, but am enamored of hys
Arte.

An ounce of Siluer limde, as much of
crude Mercury, of Spirits foure, beeing tempered with
the bodies seauen, by multiplying of it ten times, comes

for one pound, eyght thousand pounds, so that I may
haue onely Beechen coales.

Is it possible?

It is more certaine then certainty.

Ile tell thee one secrete, I stole a siluer thim-
ble; dost thou thinke that he will make it a pottle pot?

A pottle pot, nay I dare warrant it a whole
Cupbord of plate: why of the quintessence of a leaden
plummet, he hath framed xx, dozen of siluer Spoones.
Looke howe hee studies, I durst venture my life hee is
nowe casting about, howe of his breath hee may make
golden braselets, for often-times of smoke hee hath
made siluer drops.

What doe I heare?

Dydst thou neuer heare howe Iupiter came
in a golden shower to Danae?

I remember that tale.

That shower did my Master make of a spoone-
full of Tartar-alom, but with the fire of blood, & the
corasiue of the ayre, he is able to make nothing infinit,
but whist he espieth vs.

What Peter doe you loyter, knowing that
euerie minute increaseth our Mine?

I was glad to take ayre, for the mettle came so
fast, that I feared my face would haue beene turned to
siluer.

But what stripling is this?

One that is desirous to learne your craft.

Craft sir boy, you must call it misterie.

All is one, a craftie misterie, and a mysticall
 craft.

Canst thou take paynes?

 Infinite.

But thou must be sworne to be secret, and
then I wyll entertaine thee.

I can sweare though I be a poore fellow as wel
as the best man in the Shyre. But Sir I much maruaile
that you beeing so cunning, should be so ragged.

O my childe, Gryphes make theyr nestes of
gold though their coates are fethers, and we fether our
nestes with Diamonds, though our garments be but
frize. Yf thou knewest the secret of this Science, the
cunning woulde make thee so proude that thou woul-
dest disdaine the outward pompe.

My Maister is so rauisht with his Arte, that
we manie times goe supperlesse to bed, for he wil make
gold of his breade, and such is the drouth of his desire,
that we all wish our very guts were gold.

I haue good fortune to light vpon such a Mai-
 ster.

When in the depth of my skill I determine
to try the vttermost of mine Arte, I am disswaded by
the gods, otherwise, I durst vndertake to make the fire
as it flames, gold, the winde as it blowes, siluer, the wa-
ter as it runnes, lead, the earth as it standes, yron, the
skye, brasse, and mens thoughts, firme mettles.

I must blesse my selfe, and maruell at you.

Come in, and thou shalt see all. Exit.

I followe, I runne, I flye; they say my Father
hath a golden thumbe, you shall see me haue a golden
bodie. Exit.

I am glad of this, for now I shall haue leysure
to runne away; such a bald Arte as neuer was, let him
keepe his newe man, for he shall neuer see his olde a-
gaine; God shelde me from blowing gold to nothing,
with a strong imagination to make nothing any thing.

How now Gallathea? miserable Gallathea,
that hauing put on the apparell of a boy, thou canst al-
so put on the minde. O faire Melebeus, I too faire, and
therefore I feare, too proude. Had it not beene better
for thee to haue beene a sacrifice to Neptune, then a slaue to Cupid? to die for thy Countrey, then to liue in
thy fancie? to be a sacrifice, then a Louer? O woulde
when I hunted his eye with my harte, hee might haue
seene my hart with his eyes. Why did Nature to him a
boy giue a face so faire, or to me a virgine a fortune so
hard? I will now vse for the distaffe the bowe, and play
at quaites abroade, that was wont to sowe in, my Sam-
pler at home. It may be Gallathea, foolish Gallathea,
what may be? nothing. Let mee followe him into the
Woods, and thou sweete Venus be my guide.

Poore Phillida, curse the time of thy birth
and rarenes of thy beautie, the vnaptnes of thy apparel,
and the vntamednes of thy affections. Art thou no soo-
ner in the habite of a boy, but thou must be enamored
of a boy, what shalt thou doe when what best lyketh
thee, most discontenteth thee? Goe into the Woods,
watch the good times, his best moodes, and transgresse
in loue a little of thy modestie, I will, I dare not, thou
must, I cannot. Then pine in thine owne peeuishnes.
I will not, I wil. Ah Phillida doe something, nay anie
thing rather then liue thus. Well, what I will doe, my
selfe knowes not, but what I ought I knowe too well,
and so I goe resolute, eyther to bewray my loue, or suf-
fer shame.

HOwe nowe? what newe conceits, vvhat
strange contraries breede in thy minde?
is thy Diana become a Venus, thy chast thoughts turnd
to wanton lookes, thy conquering modestie to a cap-
tiue imagination? Beginnest thou with Piralis to die in
the ayre and liue in the fire, to leaue the sweete delight
of hunting, and to followe the hote desire of loue? O
Telusa, these words are vnfit for thy sexe beeing a vir-
gine, but apt for thy affections being a Louer. And can
there in yeeres so young, in education so precise, in
vowes so holy, and in a hart so chaste, enter eyther a
strong desire, or a wish, or a wauering thought of loue?
Can Cupids brands quench Vestas flames, and his fee-
ble shafts headed with feathers, pearce deeper thē Di-
anaes arrowes headed with steele? Breake thy bowe
Telusa that seekest to breake thy vowe, and let those
hands that aymed to hit the wilde Hart, scratche out
those eyes that haue wounded thy tame hart. O vaine
and onely naked name of Chastitie, that is made eter-
nall, and perish by time: holy, and is infected by fancy:
diuine, and is made mortall by folly. Virgins harts I
perceiue are not vnlike Cotton trees, whose fruite is so
hard in the budde, that it soundeth like steele, and bee-
ing rype, poureth forth nothing but wool, and theyr
thoughts like the leaues of Lunary, which the further
they growe from the Sunne, the sooner they are scor-
ched with his beames. O Melebeus, because thou art
fayre, must I be fickle, and false my vowe because I see
thy vertue? Fonde gyrle that I am to thinke of loue,
nay vaine profession that I follow to disdaine loue, but
heere commeth Eurota, I must nowe put on a redde

maske and blushe, least she perceiue my pale face and
laugh.

Telusa, Diana bid me hunt you out, & saith
that you care not to hunt with her, but if you followe
any other Game then she hath rowsd, your punishment
shall be to bend all our bowes, and weaue al our strings.
Why looke ye so pale, so sad, so wildly.

Eurota the Game I follow is the thing I flye:
my strange disease my chiefe desire.

I am no Oedipus to expound riddles, and
I muse how thou canst be Sphinx to vtter them. But I
pray thee Telusa tell mee what thou aylest, if thou be
sicke, this ground hath leaues to heale: if melancholie,
heere are pastimes to vse: if peeuish, wit must weane
it, or time, or counsell. Yf thou be in loue (for I haue
heard of such a beast called loue) it shall be cured, why
blushest thou Telusa?

To heare thee in reckoning my paines to re-
cite thine owne. I sawe Eurota howe amorouslie you
glaunced your eye on the faire boy in the white coate,
and howe cunninglie (now that you would haue some
talke of loue) you hit me in the teeth with loue.

I confesse that I am in loue, and yet sweare
that I know not what it is. I feele my thoughts vnknit,
mine eyes vnstaied, my hart I know not how affected,
or infected, my sleepes broken and full of dreames, my
wakenesse sad and full of sighes, my selfe in all thinges
vnlike my selfe. If this be loue, I woulde it had neuer
beene deuised.

Thou hast told what I am in vttering what
thy selfe is: these are my passions Eurota my vnbridled
passions, my intollerable passions, which I were as good
acknowledge and craue counsell, as to denie and en-
dure perill.

How did it take you first Telusa?

By the eyes, my wanton eyes which concei-
ued the picture of his face, and hangd it on the verie
strings of my hart. O faire Melebeus, ô fonde Telusa,
but how did it take you Eurota?

By the eares, whose sweete words suncke so
deepe into my head, that the remembrance of his wit,
hath bereaued mee of my wisedome, ô eloquent Tyte-
rus, ô credulous Eurota. But soft heere commeth Ra-
mia, but let her not heare vs talke, wee will withdrawe
our selues, and heare her talke.

I am sent to seeke others that haue lost my
selfe.

You shall see Ramia hath also bitten on a
loue leafe.

Can there be no hart so chast, but loue can
wound? nor vowes so holie but affection can violate.
Vaine art thou vertue, & thou chastity but a by word,
when you both are subiect to loue, of all thinges the
most abiect. If Loue be a God, why should not louers
be vertuous? Loue is a God, and Louers are vertuous.

Indeede Ramia, if Louers were not vertu-
ous, then wert thou vicious.

What are you come so neere me?

I thinke we came neere you when wee sside
you loued.

Tush Ramia, tis too late to recall it, to re-
pent it a shame: therfore I pray thee tell what is loue?

If my selfe felt onelie this infection, I would
then take vpon me the definition, but beeing incident
to so manie, I dare not my selfe describe it, but we will
all talke of that in the Woodes. Diana stormeth that
sending one to seeke another, shee looseth all. Seruia
of all the Nimphes the coyest, loueth deadly, and ex-

claimeth against Diana, honoureth Venus, detesteth
Vesta, and maketh a common scorne of vertue. Cly-
mene, whose statelie lookes seemed to amaze the grea-
test Lordes, stoopeth, yeeldeth, and fauneth on the
strange boy in the Woods. My selfe (with blushing I
speak it) am thrall to that boy, that faire boy, that beau-
tifull boy.

What haue wee heere, all in loue? no other
foode then fancie; no no, she shall not haue the fayre
boy.

Nor you Telusa.

Nor you Eurota.

I loue Melebeus, and my deserts shal be aun-
swerable to my desires. I will forsake Diana for him. I
will die for him.

So saith Clymene, and shee will haue Him. I
care not, my sweete Tyterus though he seeme proude,
I impute it to childishnes: who beeing yet scarce out
of his wath-clowtes, cannot vnderstande these deepe
conceits; I loue him.

So doe I, and I will haue him.

Immodest all that wee are, vnfortunate all
that we are like to be; shall virgins beginne to wrangle
for loue, and become wanton in their thoughts, in their
words, in their actions. O deuine Loue, which art ther-
fore called deuine, because thou ouer-reachest the wi-
sest, conquerest the chastest, and doost all things both
vnlikely and impossible, because thou art Loue. Thou
makest the bashfull impudent, the wise fond, the chast
wanton, and workest contraries to our reach, because
thy selfe is beyond reason.

Talke no more Telusa, your words wound.
Ah would I were no woman.

Would Tyterus were no boy.

Would Telusa were no body. Exeunt

It is pitty that Nature framed you not a wo-
man hauing a face so faire, so louely a countenaunce,
so modest a behauiour.

There is a Tree in Tylos, whose nuttes haue
shels like fire, and beeing cracked, the karnell is but
water.

What a toy is it to tell mee of that tree, beeing
nothing to the purpose: I say it is pitty you are not a
woman.

I would not wish to be a woman, vnlesse it
were because thou art a man.

Nay I doe not wish to be woman, for then
I should not loue thee, for I haue sworne neuer to loue
a woman.

A strange humor in so prettie a youth, and
according to myne, for my selfe will neuer loue a wo-
man.

It were a shame if a mayden should be a u-
ter, (a thing hated in that exe) that thou shouldest
denie to be her seruant.

If it be a shame in me, it can be no commen-
dation in you, for your selfe is of that minde.

Suppose I were a virgine (I blush in suppo-
sing my selfe one) and that vnder the habite of a boy
were the person of a mayde, if I should vtter my affec-
tion with sighes, manifest my sweete loue by my salte
teares, and proue my loyaltie vnspotted, and my griefes
intollerable, would not then that faire face, pittie thys
true hart?

Admit that I were, as you woulde haue mee
suppose that you are, and that I should with intreaties,
prayers, othes, bribes, and what euer can be inuented in

loue, desire your fauour, would you not yeeld?

Tush you come in with admit.

And you with suppose.

What doubtfull speeches be these? I feare me
he is as I am, a mayden.

What dread riseth in my minde, I feare the
boy to be as I am a mayden.

Tush it cannot be, his voice shewes the con-
trarie.

Yet I doe not thinke it, for he woulde then
haue blushed.

Haue you euer a Sister?

If I had but one my brother must needs haue
two, but I pray haue you euer a one?

My Father had but one daughter, and there-
fore I could haue no dister.

Aye me, he is as I am, for his speeches be as
mine are.

What shall I doe, eyther hee is subtill or my
sexe simple.

I haue knowne diuers of Dianaes Nimphes
enamored of him, yet hath he reiected all, eyther as too
proude to disdaine, or too childish not to vnderstande,
or for that he knoweth himselfe to be a Virgin.

I am in a quandarie, Dianaes Nimphes haue
followed him, and he despised them, eyther knowing
too well the beautie of his owne face, or that himselfe
is of the same moulde. I will once againe try him. You
promised me in the woode, that you would loue me be-
fore all Dianaes Nimphes.

I, so you would loue mee before all Dianaes
Nimphes.

Can you preferre a fonde boy as I am, before
so faire Ladies as they are.

Why should not I as well as you?

Come let vs into the Groue, and make
much one of another, that cannot tel what to think one
of another.

Rafe, my boy is run away, I trust thou wilt
not runne after.

I would I had a paire of wings that I might flie
after.

My boy was the veriest theefe, the aran-
test lyar, and the vildest swearer in the worlde, other-
wise the best boy in the world, he hath stolen my appa-
rell, all my money, and forgot nothing but to bid mee
farewell.

That will not I forget, farewell Maister.

Why thou hast not yet eene the ende of
my Arte.

I would I had not known the beginning. Did
not you promise mee, of my siluer thimble to make a
whole cupboord of plate, and that of a Spanish needle
you would build a siluer steeple?

I Rafe, the fortune of this Arte consisteth
in the measure of the fire, for if there be a cole too
much, or a sparke too little, if it be a little too hote, or
a thought too softe, all our labour is in vaine; besides,
they that blowe, must beate tyme with theyr breathes,
as Musicions doe with their breasts, go as there must be
of the mettals, the fire and workers a verie harmonie.

Nay if you must weigh your fire by ounces, &
take measure of a mans blast, you may then make of a
dramme of winde a wedge of gold, and of the shadowe
of one shilling make another, so as you haue an Orga-
nist to tune your temperatures.

So is it, and often doth it happen, that the

iust proportion of the fire and all things concurre.

Concurre, condogge. I will away.

Then away.

An arte quoth you, that one multiplieth so
much all day, that he wanteth money to buy meate at
night? But what haue we yonder? what deuoute man?
he will neuer speake till he be vrged. I wil salute him.
Sir, there lieth a purse vnder your feete, if I thought it
were not yours, I would take it vp.

Doost thou not knowe that I was calcula-
ting the natiuity of Alexanders great horse?

Why what are you?

An Astronomer.

What one of those that makes Almanacks.

Ipsissimus. I can tell the minute of thy byrth,
the moment of thy death, and the manner. I can tel thee
what wether shall be betweene this and Octogessimus
octauus mirabilis annus. When I list I can ette a trap for
the Sunne, catch the Moone with lyme-twigges, and
goe a batfowling for starres. I can tell thee things past,
and things to come, & with my cunning, measure how
many yards of Clowdes are beneath the Skye. Nothing
can happen which I fore-see not, nothing all.

I hope sir you are no more then a God.

I can bring the twelue signes out of theyr
Zodiacks, and hang them vp at Tauerns.

I pray you sir tell me what you cannot doe, for
I perceiue there is nothing so easie for you to compasse
as impossibilities. But what be those signes?

As a man should say, signes which gouerne
the body. The Ramme gouerneth the head.

That is the worst signe for the head.

Why?

Because it is a signe of an ill Ewe.

Tush, that signe must be there. Then the
Bull for the throte, Capricornus for the knees.

I will heare no more signes, if they be all such
desperate signes: but seeing you are, (I know not who
to terme you) shall I serue you? I would faine serue.

I accept thee.

Happie am I, for now shall I reach thoughts,
and tell how many drops of water goes to the greatest
showre of rayne. You shall see me catch the Moone in
the clips like a Conny in a pursnet.

I will teach thee the Golden number, the
Epact, and the Prime.

I wil meddle no more with numbring of gold,
for multiplication is a miserable action; I pray sir what wether
shall we haue this howre three-score yeere?

That I must cast by our Iudicials Astrono-
micall, therefore come in with me, and thou shall see e-
uerie wrinkle of my Astrologicall wisedome, and I will
make the Heauens as plaine to thee as the high waie,
thy cunning shall sitte cheeke by iole with the Sunnes
Chariot; then shalt thou see what a base thing it is, to
haue others thoughts creepe on the grounde, when as
thine shall be stitched to the starres.

Then I shall be translated from this mortality.

Thy thoughts shall be metamorphosed, and
made haile fellowes with the Gods.

O fortune. I feele my very braines moralized,
and as it were a certaine contempt of earthly actions is
crept into my minde, by an etheriall contemplation.
Come let vs in.

What newes haue we heere Ladies, are all
in loue? are Dianaes Nimphes become Venus wan-
tons? is it a shame to be chast, because you be amiable?
or must you needes be amorous, because you are faire?
O Venus, if thys be thy spight, I will require it wyth
more then hate, well shalt thou know what it is to drib
thine arrowes vp and downe Dianaes leies. There is an
vnknowne Nimph that straggleth vp and downe these
woods, which I suspect hath beene the weauer of these
woes, I saw her slumbring by the brooke side, go search
her & bring her, if you find vpon her shoulder a burne,
it is Cupid: if any print on her backe like a leafe, it is
Medea: if any picture on her left breast like a birde, it
is Calipso; who euer it be, bring her hether, and spee-
dilie bring her hether.

I will goe with speede.

Goe you Larissa and helpe her.

I obey.

Nowe Ladies, dooth not that make your
cheekes blushe, that makes mine eares glowe? or can
you remember that without sobs, which Diana can not
thinke on without sighes? What greater dishonour
could happen to Diana, or to her Nimphes shame,
then that there can be any time so idle, that shold make
their heads so addle? Your chast harts my Nimphes,
should resemble the Onix, which is hotest when it is
whitest, and your thoughts, the more they are assaul-
ted with desires, the lesse they should be affected. You
should thinke loue like Homers Moly, a white leafe &
a blacke roote, a faire shewe, and a bitter taste. Of all
Trees the Cedar is greatest, and hath the smallest
seedes: of all affecttions, loue hath the greatest name, &

the least vertue. Shall it be said, and shall Venus say it?
nay shall it be seene, and shall wantons ee it? that Di-
ana the goddesse of chastity, whose thoughts are al-
waies answerable to her vowes, whose eyes neuer glan-
ced on desire, and whose hart abateth the poynt of Cu-
pids arrowes, shall haue her virgins to become vnchast
in desires, immoderate in affection, vntemperate in
loue, in foolish loue, in base loue. Eagles cast their euill
feathers in the Sunne, but you cast your best desires v-
pon a shadowe. The birdes Ibes lose their sweetnesse
when they lose theyr sights, and virgins all theyr ver-
tues with theyr vnchast thoughts, vnchast, Diana cal-
leth that, that hath eyther any showe or suspicion of
lightnesse. O my deere Nimphes, if you knewe howe
louing thoughts staine louely faces, you woulde bee as
careful to haue the one as vnspotted as the other beau-
tiful.

 Cast before your eyes the loues of Venus truls, their
fortunes, theyr fancies, their ends. What are they els
but Silenus pictures, without, Lambes & Doues, with
in, Apes, and Owles, who like Ixion imbrace clowdes
for Iuno, the shadowes of vertue in steede of the sub-
stance. The Eagles fethers consume the fethers of all o-
thers, and loues desire corrupteth all other vertues. I
blush Ladies that you hauing beene heretofore patient
of labours, should nowe become prentises to idlenesse,
and vse the penne for Sonets, not the needle for Sam-
plers. And howe is your loue placed, vppon pelting
boyes, perhaps base of birth, without doubt weake of
discretion. I but they are fayre. O Ladies doe your eyes
begin to loue collours, whose harts was wont to loath
them? is Dianaes Chase become Venus Courte? and
are your holy vowes turnd to hollow thoughts?

Madame, if loue were not a thing beyonde
reason, we might then giue a reason of our doings, but\

so deuine is his force, that it worketh effects as contra-
rie to that wee wishe, as vnreasonable against that wee
ought.

Lady, so vnacquainted are the passions of
loue, that we can neither describe them nor beare them.

Foolish gyrles, how willing you are to follow
that which you should flie, but heere commeth Telusa.

We haue brought the disguised Nimphe, &
haue found on his shoulder Psiches burne, and he con-
fesseth himselfe to be Cupid.

Howe now sir, are you caught, are you Cu-
 pid?

Thou shalt see Diana that I dare confesse my
selfe to be Cupid.

And thou shalt see Cupid that I will shewe
my selfe to be Diana, that is, Conquerer of thy loose &
vntamed appetites. Did thy mother Venus vnder the
colour of a Nimphe, sende thee hether to wounde my
Nimphes? Doth she adde craft to her malice, and mis-trusting her deitie, practise deceite: is there no place
but my Groues, no persons but my Nimphes? Cruell
and vnkind Venus, that spighteth onely chastitie, thou
shalt see that Dianaes power shal reuenge thy pollicie,
and tame thys pride. As for thee Cupid, I will breake
thy bowe, and burne thine arrowes, binde thy handes,
clyp thy wings, and fetter thy feete. Thou that fattest
others with hopes, shalt be fedde thy selfe with wishes,
& thou that bindest others with golden thoughts, dhalt
be bound thy selfe with golden fetters. Venus rods are
made of Roses, Dianaes of Bryers. Let Venus that great
Goddesse, raunsome Cupid that little God. These La-
dies heere whom thou hast infected with foolish loue,
shall both tread on thee and triumph ouer thee. Thine

owne arrow shall be shot into thine owne bosome, and
thou shalt be inamored, not on Psiches, but on Circes.
I will teach thee what it is to displease Diana, distresse
her Nimphes, or disturbe her Game.

Diana, what I haue doone, cannot be vndone,
but what you meane to doe, shall. Venus hath some
Gods to her friends, Cupid shall haue all.

Are you prating? I will bridle thy tongue &
thy power, and in spight of mine owne thoughts,
I will sette thee a taske euery day, which if thou finish
not, thou shalt feele the smart. Thou shalt be vsed as
Dianaes slaue, not Venus sonne. All the worlde shall
see that I will vse thee like a captiue, and shew my selfe
a Conquerer. Come haue him in, that wee may deuise
apt punishments for his proude presumptions.

We will plague yee for a little God.

We wyll neuer pittie thee though thou be
 a God.

Nor I.

Nor I. Exeunt.

THis is the day wherein you must satis-fie
 Neptune and saue your selues, call toge-
ther your fayre Daughters, and for a Sacrifice take the
fayrest, for better it is to offer a Virgine then suffer ru-
ine. If you think it against nature to sacrifice your chil-
dren, thinke it also against sence to destroy your Coun-
trey. If you imagine Neptune pittilesse to desire such a
pray, confesse your selues peruerse to deserue such a
punishment. You see this tree, this fatall Tree, whose
leaues though they glister like golde, yet it threatneth
to fayre virgins griefe. To this Tree must the beauti-

fullest be bounde vntil the Monster Agar carry her a-
waie, and if the Monster come not, then assure your
selues that the fairest is concealed, and then your coun-
trey shall be destroyed, therefore consult with your
selues, not as fathers of children, but as fauourers of
your Countrey. Let Neptune haue his right if you will
haue your quiet; thus haue I warned you to be care-
full, and would wish you to be wise, knowing that who
so hath the fairest daughter, hath the greatest fortune,
in loosing one to saue all, and so I depart to provide ce-
remonies for the Sacrifice, and commaund you to bring
the Sacrifice. Exit Augur.

They say Tyterus that you haue a faire daugh-
ter, if it be so, dissemble not, for you shall be a fortu-
nate father. It is a thing holy to preserue ones Country,
and honorable to be the cause.

In deede Melebeus I haue heard you boast
that you had a faire daughter, thèn the which none was
more beautiful. I hope you are not so careful of a child,
that you will be carelesse of your Countrey, or adde so
much to nature, that you will detract from wisedome.

I must confesse that I had a daughter, and I
knowe you haue, but alas my Childes cradle was her
graue, and her swath-clowte her winding sheete. I
would she had liued til now, she should willingly haue
died now; for what could haue happened to pore Me-
lebeus more comfortable, then to bee the father of a
fayre child and sweet Countrey.

O Mellebeus, dissemble you may with mē,
deceiue the Gods you cannot, dyd not I see, (and very
lately see) your daughter in your armes, when as you
gaue her infinite kisses, with affection I feare mee more
then fatherly. You haue conueyed her away, that you
might cast vs all away, bereauing her the honour of her
beauty, and vs the benefite, preferring a common in-

convenience, before a priuate mischiefe.

It is a bad cloth Tyterus that will take no co-
lour, and a simple Father that can vse no cunning, you
make the people beleeue that you wish well, when you
practise nothing but ill, wishing to be thought religi-
ous towards the Gods, when I knowe you deceitful to-
wards men. You cannot ouer-reach me Tyterus, ouer-
shoote your selfe you may. It is a wilie Mouse that will
breede in the Cats eare, and hee must halt cunninglie,
that will deceiue a Cripple. Did you euer see me kisse
my Daughter? you are deceiued, it was my wife. And
if you thought so young a peece vnfit for so old a per-
son, and therefore imagined it to be my childe, not my
spouse, you must knowe that siluer haires delight in
golden lockes, and the olde fancies craue young Nur-
ses, and frostie yeeres must bee thawed by youthfull
fyers. But this matter set aside, you haue a faire daugh-
ter Tyterus, and it is pittie you are so fond a Father.

You are bothe eyther too fonde or too fro-
ward: for whilst you dispute to saue your Daughters,
we neglect to preuent our destruction.

Come let vs away and seeke out a sacrifice.
Wee must sift out their cunning, and let them shift for
themselues.

Come Cupid to your taske. First you must
vndoe all these Louers knots, because you tyed them.

If they be true loue knots, tis vnpossible to vn-
knit them, if false, I neuer tied them.

Make no excuse but to it.

Loue knots are tyde with eyes, and cannot

be vndoone with hands, made fast with thoughts, and
cannot be vnlosed with fingers, had Diana no taske to
set Cupid to but things impossible, I wil to it.

Why how now? you tie the knots faster.

I cannot chuse, it goeth against my mind to
make them loose.

Let me see, nowe tis vnpossible to be vn-
doone.

It is the true loue knotte of a womans hart,
therefore cannot be vndoone.

That fals in sunder of it selfe.

It was made of a mans thought which will
neuer hang together.

You haue vndoone that well.

I, because it was neuer tide well.

To the rest, for shee will giue you no rest.
These two knots are finely vntide.

It was because I neuer tide them, the one was
knit by Pluto, not Cupid, by money, not loue, the other
by force, not faith, by appointment, not affection.

Why doe you lay that knot aside.

For death.

Why?

Because the knot was knit by faith, and must
onely be vnknit of death.

Why laugh you?

Because it is the fairest and the falsest, doone
with greatest arte and least trueth, with best collours,
and worst conceits.

VVho tide it?

A mans tongue.

Why doe you put that in my bosome?

Because it is onely for a Womans bosome.

Why what is it?

A womans hart.

Come let vs goe in, and tell that Cupid hath
doone his taske, stay you behind Larissa, and see hee
sleepe not, for Loue will be idle, and take heede you
surfette not, for loue will be wanton. Exit Telusa.

Let me alone I wil find him some-what to do.

Lady, can you for pittie see Cupid thus pu-
nished.

Why did Cupid punish vs without pittie?

Is loue a punishment?

It is no pastime.

O Venus, if thou sawest Cupid as a captiue,
bound to obey that was wont to commaunde, fearing
Ladies threates, that once pearced their harts, I cannot
tell whether thou wouldest reuenge it for despight, or
laugh at it for disport. The time may come Diana, and
the time shall come, that thou that settest Cupid to vn-
doe knots, shall intreate Cupid to tye knots, and you
Ladies that with solace haue behelde my paines, shall
with sighes intreate my pittie.

How now Cupid begin you to nod?

Come Cupid, Diana hath deuised newe la-
bours for you that are God of loues, you shall weaue
Samplers all night, and lackie after Diana all day. You
shall shortlie shoote at beastes for men, because you
haue made beastes of men, & waight on Ladies traines,
because thou intrappest Ladies by traines. All the sto-
ries that are in Dianaes Arras, which are of loue, you
must picke out with your needle, & in that place sowe
Vesta with her Nuns, and Diana with her Nimphes.
How like you this Cupid.

I say I will pricke as well with my needle, as
euer I did with mine arrowes.

Diana cannot yeelde, she conquers affection.

Diana shall yeeld, she cannot conquer desteny.

Come Cupid, you must to your busines.

You shall find me so busie in your heads, that
you shall wish I had beene idle with your harts.

Thys day is the solemne Sacrifice at thys
Tree, wherein the fairest virgine (were not the inhabi-
tants faithlesse) should be offered vnto me, but so ouer
carefull are Fathers to their children, that they forgette
the safetie of their Countrey, & fearing to become vn-
naturall, become vnreasonable; their slights may bleere
men, deceiue me they cannot, I wil be here at the houre,
and shew as great crueltie as they haue doone craft, &
well shall they know that Neptune should haue beene
intreated, not cosened. Exit.

I maruell what virgine the people will pre-
present, it is happy you are none, for the it would haue
falne to your lot because you are so faire.

If you had beene a Maiden too I neede not
to haue feared, because you are fairer.

I pray thee sweete boy flatter not me, speake
trueth of thy selfe, for in mine eye of all the world thou
art fayrest.

These be faire words, but farre from thy true
thoughts, I know mine owne face in a true Glasse, and
desire not to see it in a flattering mouth.

O would I did flatter thee, and that fortune
would not flatter me. I loue thee as a brother, but loue
not me so.

Noe I will not, but loue thee better, because I

cannot loue as a brother.

Seeing we are both boyes, and both louers,
that our affection may haue some showe, and seeme as
it were loue, let me call thee Mistris.

I accept that name, for diuers before haue
cald me Mistris.

For what cause?

Nay there lie the Mistrisse.

Wyll not you be at the sacrifice?

Noe.

Why?

Because I dreamt that if I were there, I shold
be turned to a virgine, and then being so faire (as thou
saist I am) I shoulde be offered as thou knowest one
must. But will not you be there.

Not vnlesse I were sure that a boy might be
sacrificed, and not a mayden.

Why then you are in danger.

But I would escape it by deceite, but seeing
we are resolued to be both absent, let vs wander into
these Groues, till the howre be past.

I am agreed, for then my feare wil be past.

Why, what doost thou feare?

Nothing but that you loue me not. Exit.

I will. Poore Phillida, what shouldest thou
thinke of thy selfe, that louest one that I feare mee, is as
thy selfe is; and may it not be, that her Father practi-
zed the same deceite with her, that my Father hath
with me, and knowing her to be fayre, feared she shold
be vnfortunate, if it be so, Phillida how desperate is thy
case? if it be not, howe doubtfull? For if she be a May-
den there is no hope of my loue, if a boy, a hazarde: I
will after him or her, and leade a melancholie life, that
looke for a miserable death.

NO more Maisters now, but a Mistrisse if
 I can light on her. An Astronomer? of all
occupations thats the worst, yet well fare the Alcu-
mist, for he keepes good fires though he gets no golde,
the other standes warming himselfe by staring on the
starres, which I think he can as soone number as know
their vertues. He told me a long tale of Octogessimus
octauus, and the meeting of the Coniunctions & Pla-
nets, and in the meane-time he fell backwarde himselfe
into a ponde. I askt him why he fore-sawe not that by
the starres, he said hee knewe it, but contemnd it. But
soft, is not this my brother Robin?

Yes as sure as thou art Rafe.

What Robin? what newes? what fortune?

Faith I haue had but badde fortune, but I
prie-thee tell me thine.

I haue had two Maisters, not by arte but by
nature, one sayd, that by multiplying he woulde make
of a penny tenne pound.

I but coulde he doe it?

Could he doe it quoth you? why man, I sawe
a prettie wench come to his shoppe, where with puf-
fing, blowing, and sweating, he so plyed her, that hee
multiplyed her.

Howe?

Why he made her of one, two.

What by fire?

No, by the Philosophers stone.

Why, haue Philosophers such stones?

I, but they lie in a priuie cupboord.

Why then thou art rich if thou haue learned
this cunning.

Tush this was nothing, hee would of a little
fasting spittle, make a hose & dublet of cloth of siluer.

Would I had beene with him, for I haue had
almost no meate, but spittle since I came to the woods.

How then didst thou liue?

Why man I serued a fortune-teller, who saide
I should liue to see my Father hangd, and both my bro-
thers beg. So I conclude the Mill shall be mine, and I
liue by imagination still.

Thy Maister was an Asse, and lookt on the
lines of thy hands, but my other Maister was an Astro-
nomer, which could picke my natiuitie out of the stars.
I shoulde haue halfe a dozen starres in my pocket if I
haue not lost them, but heere they be. Sol, Saturne, Iu-
piter, Mars, Venus.

Why these be but names.

I, but by these he gathereth, that I was a Io-
ualist, borne of a Thursday, & that I should be a braue
Venerian, and gette all my good lucke on a Fryday.

Tis strange that a fishe day should be a flesh-
day.

O Robin, Venus orta mari, Venus was borne of
the Sea, the Sea will haue fishe, fishe must haue wine,
wine will haue flesh, for Caro carnis genus est muliebre:
but soft, heere commeth that notable villaine, that once
preferd me to the Alcumist.

So I had a Maister, I would not care what
became of me.

Robin thou shalt see me fitte him. So I had a
seruaunt, I care neither for his conditions, his quali-
lities, nor his person.

What Rafe? well mette. No doubt you had a

warme seruice of my Maister the Alcumist.

Twas warme indeede, for the fire had almost
burnt out mine eyes, and yet my teeth still watred with
hungar: so that my seruice was both too whote & too
cold. I melted all my meate, and made onely my slum-
ber thoughts, and so had a full head and an empty bel-
lie. But where hast thou beene since?

With a brother of thine I thinke, for hee hath
such a coate, and two brothers (as hee saith) seeking of
fortunes.

Tys my brother Dicke, I prie-thee lets goe
to him.

Syrra, what was he dooing that hee came not
with thee?

Hee hath gotten a Maister nowe, that will
teach him to make you both his younger brothers.

I, thou passest for deuising impossibilities,
thats as true as thy Maister could make siluer pottes of
tagges of poynts.

Nay he will teach him to cozen you both, &
so gette the Mill to himselfe.

Nay if he be both our cozens, I will bee hys
great Grand-father, and Robin shall be his Vncle, but I
pray thee bring vs to him quickly, for I am great belli-
ed with conceite till I see him.

Come then and goe with me, and I will bring
ye to him straight.

Bring forth the virgine, the fatall virgin, the
fairest virgine, if you meane to appease Neptune, and
preserue your Countrey.

Heere shee commeth, accompanied onelie
with men, because it is a sight vnseemely (as all virgins
say) to see the mis-fortune of a mayden, and terrible to
behold the fiercenes of Agar that Monster.

Myserable and accursed Haebe, that beeing
neither faire nor fortunate, thou shouldest be thought
most happy and beautifull. Curse thy birth, thy lyfe,
thy death, beeing borne to liue in danger, and hauing
liude, to die by deceit. Art thou the sacrifice to appease
Neptune, and satis-fie the custome, the bloodie cu-
stom, ordained for the safetie of thy Country. I Haebe,
poore Haebe, men will haue it so, whose forces com-
maund our weake natures, nay the Gods wil haue it so,
whose powers dally with our purposes. The Egipti-
ans neuer cut their Dates from the tree, because they
are so fresh and greene. It is thought wickednes to pul
Roses from the stalkes in the Garden of Palestine, for
that they haue so liuelie a redde: and who so cutteth
the incense Tree in Arabia before it fal, committeth sa-
criledge.

 Shall it onely be lawfull amongst vs in the prime
of youth, and pride of beautie, to destroy both youth
and beautie: and what was honoured in fruites and
flowres as a vertue, to violate in a virgine as a vice? But
alas destenie alloweth no dispute, die Haebe, Haebe die,
wofull Haebe, and onely accursed Haebe. Farewell the
sweete delights of life, and welcome nowe the bitter
pangs of death. Fare-well you chast virgins, whose
thoughts are diuine, whose faces faire, whose fortunes
are agreeable to your affections, enioy and long enioy
the pleasure of your curled locks, the amiablenesse of

your wished lookes, the sweetnes of your tuned voices,
the content of your inwarde thoughts, the pompe of
your outward showes, onely Haebe biddeth farewell to
all the ioyes that she conceiued, and you hope for, that
shee possessed, and you shall; fare-well the pompe of
Princes Courts, whose roofes are imbosst with golde,
and whose pauements are decked with faire Ladies,
where the daies are spent in sweet delights, the nights
in pleasant dreames, where chastitie honoreth affecti-
ons, and commaundeth, yeeldeth to desire and conque-
reth.

 Fare-well the Soueraigne of all vertue, and God-
desse of all virgins, Diana, whose perfections are impos-
sible to be numbred, and therefore infinite, neuer to be
matched, and therefore immortall. Fare-well sweet Pa-
rents, yet to be mine, vnfortunate Parents. Howe bles-
sed had you beene in barrennes? how happy had I been
if I had not beene. Fare-well life, vaine life, wretched
life, whose sorrowes are long, whose ende doubtfull,
whose miseries certaine, whose hopes innumerable,
whose feares intollerable. Come death, and welcome
death whom nature cannot resist, because necessity ru-
leth, nor deferre because destenie hasteth. Come Agar
thou vnsatiable Monster of Maidens blood, & douou-
rer of beauties bowels, glut thy selfe till thou surfet, &
let my life end thine. Teare these tender ioynts wyth
thy greedie iawes, these yellow lockes with thy black
feete, this faire face with thy foule teeth. Why abatest
thou thy wonted swiftnesse? I am faire, I am a virgine, I
am readie. Come Agar thou horrible monster, & fare-
well world thou viler Monster.

The Monster is not come, and therefore I
see Neptune is abused, whose rage will I feare mee, be
both infinite and intollerable: take in this Virgine,

whose want of beauty hath saued her owne life, and all
yours.

We could not finde any fairer.

Neptune will. Goe deliuer her to her father.

Fortunate Haebe, howe shalt thou expresse
thy ioyes? Nay vnhappy girle that art not the fairest.
Had it not been better for thee to haue died with fame,
then to liue with dishonour, to haue preferred the safe-tie of thy Countrey and rarenesse of thy beautie, before
sweetnes of life, & vanity of the world? But alas, desteny
would not haue it so, desteny coulde not, for it asketh
the beautifullest, I would Haebe thou hadst been beau-
tifullest.

Come Haebe, heere is no time for vs to rea-
son, it had beene best for vs thou hadst beene most
beautifull.

We mette the virgine that shoulde haue
been offered to Neptune, belike eyther the custome is
pardoned, or she not thought fairest.

I cannot coniecture the cause, but I feare the
euent.

Why should you feare, the God requireth no
boy.

I would he did, then should I haue no feare.

I am glad he doth not tho, because if he did, I
should haue also cause to feare. But soft, what man or
God is this? Let vs closely withdrawe our selues into
the Thickets,

And doe men beginne to bee equall with
Gods, seeking by craft to ouer-reach thē that by power
ouer-see them? Doe they dote so much on their daugh-
ters, that they stick not to dallie with our deities, well
shall the inhabitants see, that destinie cannot be pre-
uented by craft, nor my anger be appeased by submis-
sion. I will make hauocke of Dianaes Nimphes, my
Temple shall bee died with Maydens blood, and there
shal be nothing more vile then to be a Virgine. To be
young and fayre, shall be accounted shame & punish-
ment, in so much as it shall be thought as dishonorable
to be honest, as fortunate to be deformed.

O Neptune, hast thou forgotten thy selfe, or
wilt thou cleane for-sake mee? Hath Diana therfore
brought danger to her Nimphes, because they be chast?
shal vertue suffer both paine and shame which alwaies
deserueth praise and honor?

Prayse and honour (Neptune) nothing lesse,
except it be commendable to be coy, and honorable to
be peeuish. Sweet Neptune, if Venus can do any thing,
let her try it in this one thing, that Diana may finde as
small comfort at thy hands, as Loue hath found curte-
sie at hers.

This is shee that hateth sweete delights, enuieth
louing desires, masketh wanton eyes, stoppeth amo-
rous eares, bridleth youthfull mouthes, and vnder a
name, or a worde constancie, entertaineth all kinde of
crueltie: shee hath taken my sonne Cupid, Cupid my

louely sonne, vsing him like a prentise, whypping him
like a slaue, scorning him like a beast, therefore Nep-
tune I intreate thee by no other God, then the God of
loue, that thou euill intreate this Goddesse of hate.

I muse not a little to see you two in this
place, at this time, and about this matter, but what say
you Diana, haue you Cupid captiue?

I say there is nothing more vaine, then to
dispute with Venus, whose vntamed affections haue
bred more brawles in heauen, then is fitte to repeate in
earth, or possible to recount in number, I haue Cupid,
and will keepe him, not to dandle in my lappe, whom I
abhor in my hart, but to laugh him to scorne, that hath
made in my virgins harts such deepe scarres.

Scarres Diana call you them that I know to
be bleeding woundes? alas weake deitie, it stretcheth
not so farre, both to abate the sharpnesse of his Ar-
rowes and to heale the hurts. No, Loues woundes when they seeme greene, rankle, and hauing a smooth
skinne without, fester to the death within. Therefore
Neptune, if euer Venus stoode thee in steed, furthe-
red thy fancies, or shall at all times be at thy comaund,
let eyther Diana bring her Virgins to a continuall
massacre, or release Cupid of his martyrdome.

It is knowne Venus, that your tongue is
as vnrulie as your thoughts, and your thoughts as vn-
staied as your eyes, Diana cannot chatter, Venus can-
not chuse.

It is an honour for Diana to haue Venus
meane ill, when she so speaketh well, but you shal see
I come not to trifle, therefore once againe Neptune, if
that be not buried, which can neuer die, fancie, or that
quenched which must euer burne, affection, shew thy
selfe the same Neptune that I knew thee to bee when

thou wast a Sheepe-hearde, and let not Venus wordes
be vaine in thyne eares, since thyne were imprinted in
my hart.

It were vnfitte that Goddesses shoulde
striue, and it were vnreasonable that I shold not yeeld,
and therefore to please both, both attend; Diana I must
honor, her vertue deserueth no lesse, but Venus I must
loue, I must confesse so much.

Diana, restore Cupid to Venus, and I will for euer
release the sacrifice of Virgins, if therefore you loue
your Nimphes as shee doth her Sonne, or preferre not
a priuate grudge before a common griefe, aunswere
what you will doe.

I account not the choyse harde, for had I
twentie Cupids, I woulde deliuer them all to saue one
Virgine, knowing loue to be a thing of all the vainest,
virginitie to be a vertue of all the noblest. I yeeld, La-
rissa, bring out Cupid: and now shall it be saide, that
Cupid saued those he thought to spoyle.

I agree to this willinglie: for I will be warie
howe my Sonne wander againe. But Diana cannot for-
bid him to wounde.

Yes, chastitie is not within the leuell of his
bowe.

But beautie is a fayre marke to hit.

Well I am gladde you are agreed: and
saie that Neptune hath delt well wyth Beautie
and Chastitie.

Heere take your sonne.

Syr boy where haue you beene? alwaies ta-
ken, first by Sapho, nowe by Diana, howe hapneth it

you vnhappie Elphe?

Comming through Dianaes woodes, and see-
ing so manie fayre faces with fonde hearts, I thought
for my sport to make them smart, and so was taken by
Diana.

I am glad I haue you.

And I am gladde I am ridde of him.

Alas poore boy, thy VVinges clypt? thy
brandes quencht? thy Bowe burnt? and thy Arrowes
broke?

I but it skilleth not, I beare nowe myne Ar-
rowes in mine eyes, my Winges on my thoughts, my
brandes in myne eares, my bowe in my mouth, so as I
can wounde with looking, flye with thinking, burne
with hearing, shoote with speaking.

VVell you shall vp to heauen with mee, for
on earth thou wilt lose me.

But soft, what be these?

Those that haue offended thee to saue
 their daughters.

VVhy, had you a faire daughter?

I, and Melebeus a faire daughter.

Where be they?

In yonder Woods, and mee thinkes I see
 them comming.

Well, your deserts haue not gotten par-
 don, but these Goddesses iarres.

Thys is my Daughter, my sweete Phil-
 lida.

And this is my faire Gallathea.

Vnfortunate Gallathea if this be Phillida.

Accursed Phillida if that be Gallathea.

And wast thou all thys while enamoured of
Phillida, that sweete Phillida?

And couldest thou doate vpon the face of a
Maiden, thy selfe beeing one, on the face of fayre Gal-
lathea?

Doe you both beeing Maidens loue one
another?

I had thought the habite agreeable with the
Sexe, and so burned in the fire of mine owne fancies.

I had thought that in the attyre of a boy,
there could not haue lodged the body of a Virgine, &
so was inflamed with a sweete desire, which now I find
a sower deceit.

Nowe things falling out as they doe, you
must leaue these fond fond ffections, nature will haue
it so, necessitie must.

I will neuer loue any but Phillida, her loue
is engrauen in my hart, with her eyes.

Nor I any but Gallathea, whose faith is im-
printed in my thoughts by her words.

An idle choyce, strange, and foolish, for
one Virgine to doate on another, and to imagine a con-
stant faith, where there can be no cause of affection.
Howe like you this Venus?

I like well and allowe it, they shall both be
possessed of their wishes, for neuer shall it be said that
Nature or Fortune shall ouer-throwe Loue, and Fayth.
Is your loues vnspotted, begunne with trueth, con-
tinued wyth constancie, and not to bee altered tyll
death?

Die Gallathea if thy loue be not so.

Accursed bee thou Phillida if thy loue be

not so.

Suppose all this Venus, what then?

Then shall it be seene, that I can turne one
of them to be a man, and that I will.

Is it possible?

What is to Loue or the Mistrisse of loue vn-
possible? Was it not Venus that did the like to Iphis
and Iauthes; howe say yee are ye agreed, one to bee a
boy presently?

I am content, so I may imbrace Gallathea.

I wish it, so I may enioy Phillida.

Soft Daughter, you must know whether I
will haue you a Sonne.

Take mee with you Gallathea, I will keepe
you as I begatte you, a Daughter.

Tyterus, let yours be a boy and if you will,
mine shall not.

Nay mine shall not, for by that meanes my
young sonne shall lose his inheritance.

Why then gette him to be made a Maiden
and then there is nothing lost.

If there bee such changing, I woulde Venus
could make my wife a Man.

Why?

Because shee loues alwaies to play with
men.

Well you are both fonde, therefore agree to
thys changing, or suffer your Daughters to endure
harde chaunce.

Howe say you Tyterus, shall wee referre it
to Venus.

I am content, because she is a Goddesse.

Neptune you will not dislike it.

Not I.

Nor you Diana.

Not I.

Cupid shall not.

I will not.

Then let vs depart, neither of them shall
know whose lot it shal be til they come to the Church-
dore. One shall be, doth it suffise?

And satis-fie vs both, dooth it not Galla-
thea?

Yes Phillida.

Come Robin, I am gladde I haue mette with
thee, for nowe wee will make our Father laugh at these
tales.

What are these that so malepartlie thrust
themselues into our companies?

Forsooth Madame we are fortune tellers.

Fortune tellers; tell me my fortune.

We doe not meane fortune tellers, we meane
fortune tellers: we can tell what fortune wee haue had
these twelue monthes in the Woods.

Let them alone, they be but peeuish.

Yet they will be as good as Minstrils at the
marriage, to make vs all merrie.

I Ladies we beare a very good Consort,

Can you sing

Baselie.

And you?

Meanely.

And what can you doe?

If they duble it, I will treble it.

Then shall yee goe with vs, and sing Hymen
before the marriage. Are you content?

Content? neuer better content, for there we
shall be sure to fill our bellies with Capons rumpes, or
some such daintie dishes.

Then follow vs.

GOE all, tis I onely that conclude al. You
 Ladies may see, that Venus can make
constancie ficklenes, courage cowardice, modestie
lightnesse, working things impossible in your Sexe,
and tempering hardest harts like softest wooll. Yeelde
Ladies, yeeld to loue Ladies, which lurketh vnder
your eye-lids whilst you sleepe, and plaieth with your hart
strings whilst you wake: whose sweetnes neuer bree-
deth satietie, labour wearinesse, nor greefe bitternesse.
Cupid was begotten in a miste, nursed in Clowdes, and
sucking onelie vpon conceits. Confesse him a Conque-
rer, whom yee ought to regarde, sith it is vnpossible to
resist, for this is infallible, that Loue conquereth all
things but it selfe, and Ladies all harts but their owne.