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As thus he held her a and beauty with such hard fortune. long while with chat, beauty, seeing him at discovert, thought not to lose the advantage, but struck him so deeply with an envenomed shaft as he wholly lost his liberty and became a slave to love, which before contemned love, glad now to gaze on a poor shepherd, who before refused the offer of a rich princess; for the perfection of Fawnia had so fired his fancy, But as he felt his mind greatly changed, and his affections altered: cursing love, that had wrought such a change; and blaming the baseness of his mind, that would make such a choice. thinking these were but passionate tones that might be thrust out at pleasure, to avoid the syren that enchanted him he put spurs to his horse, and bade this fair shepherd farewell.

Fawnia, who all this while had marked the princely gesture of Dorastus, seeing his face so well featured and each limb so perfectly framed, began greatly to praise his perfection, commending him so long, till she found herself faulty, and perceived if she waded but a little further she might slip over her shoes. She therefore, seeking to quench that fire which never was put out, went home, and, feigning herself not well at ease, got her to bed, where, casting a thousand thoughts in her head, she could take no rest: for if she waked, she began to call to mind his beauty; and thinking to beguile such thoughts with sleep, she then dreamed of his perfection: pestered thus with these unacquainted passions, she passed the night as she could in short slumbers.

Dorastus, who all this while rode with a flea in his ear, could not by any means forget the sweet favour of Fawnia, but rested so bewitched with her wit and beauty, as he could take no rest. He felt fancy to give the assault, and his wounded mind ready to yield as vanquished: yet he began with divers considerations to suppress this frantic affection, calling to mind that Fawnia was a shepherd, one not worthy to be looked at of a prince, much less to be loved of such a potentate; thinking what a discredit it were to himself, and what a grief it would be to his father; blaming fortune and accusing As thus he was raging against his own folly, that should be so fond as but once to cast a glance at such a country slut. himself, love, fearing if she dallied long to lose her champion, stepped more nigh, and gave him such a fresh wound as it pierced him at the heart, that he was fain to yield, maugre his

to these passionate terms. * and to forsake the company and get him to his chamber:

[Passionate terms omitted, except their conclusion.] "1 will yet praise Fawnia; honour, yea, and love Fawnia, and at this day follow content, not counsel. Do, Dorastus; thou canst but repent!" And with that his page came into the chamber, whereupon he ceased from his complaints, hoping that time would wear out that which fortune had wrought.

As thus he was pained, so poor Fawnia was diversely perplexed; for the next morning, getting up very early, she went to her sheep, thinking with hard labours to pass away her new-conceived amours, beginning very busily to drive them to the field, and then to shift the folds. At last, wearied with toil, she sat her down, where, poor soul, she was more tried with fond affections: for love began to assault her, insomuch that, as she sat upon the side of a hill, she began to accuse her own folly in these terms:

These terms omitted.]

Fawnia, somewhat appeasing her griefs with these pithy persuasions, began after her wonted manner to walk about her sheep, and to keep them from straying into the corn, suppressing her affection with the due consideration of her base estate, and with the impossibilities of her love, thinking it were frenzy, not fancy, to covet that which the very destinies did deny her to obtain.

But Dorastus was more impatient in his passions; for love so fiercely assailed him that neither company nor music could mitigate his martyrdom, but did rather far the more increase his malady shame would not let him crave counsel in this case, nor fear of his father's displeasure reveal it to any secret friend; but he was fain to make a secretary of himself, and to participate his thoughts with his own troubled mind. Lingering thus awhile in doubtful suspense, at last stealing secretly from the court without either men or page, he went to see if he could espy Fawnia walking abroad in the field; but as one having a great deal more skill to retrieve the partridge with his spaniels than to hunt after such a strange prey, he sought, but was little the better: which cross luck drove him into a great choler, that he began to accuse love and fortune. But as he was ready to retire, he saw Fawnia sitting all alone under the side of a hill, making a garland of such homely flowers as the fields did afford. This sight so revived his spirits that he drew nigh, with more judgment to take a view of her singular perfection, which he found to be such as in that country attire she stained all the courtly dames of Sicilia. While thus he stood gazing with piercing looks on her surpassing beauty, Fawnia cast her eyes aside and spied Dorastus, which sudden sight made the noor sid

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And with dye her crystal cheeks with a vermilion red, which gave her such a grace, as she scemed far more beautiful. that she rose up, saluting the prince with such modest curtseys, as he wondered how a country maid could afford such Dorastus, repaying her curtsey with a courtly behaviour. smiling countenance, began to parley with her in this manner. "Sit down, then, in The parley is omitted; also Fawnia's debate with herself when left alone, except the conclusion.] sorrow; cease to love, and content thyself that Dorastus will vouchsafe to flatter Fawnia, though not to fancy Fawnia. Heigh ho! Ah, fool, it were seemlier for thee to whistle as a Shepherd than to sigh as a lover." And with that she ceased from these perplexed passions, folling her sheep, and hieing home to her poor cottage.

But such was the incessant sorrow of Dorastus to think on the wit and beauty of Fawnia, and to see how fond he was being a prince, and how froward she was being a beggar, that he began to lose his wonted appetite, to look pale and wan; instead of mirth, to feed on melancholy; for courtly dances, to use cold dumps, insomuch that not only his own men, but his father and all the court, began to marvel at his sudden chance, thinking that some lingering sickness had brought him into this state: wherefore he caused physicians to come; but Dorastus neither would let them minister, nor so much as suffer them to see his urine, but remained still so oppressed with these passions, as he feared in himself a farther inconveHis honour wished him to cease from such folly, but nience. love forced him to follow fancy: yea, and in despite of honour, love won the conquest, so that his hot desires caused him to and new devices, for he presently made himself a shepher i's coat that he might go unknown, and with the less suspicion, to plate with Fawnia, and conveyed it secretly into a thick grove hard joining to the palace, whither, finding fit time and opportunity, he went all alone, and, putting off his prin ely apparel, got on those shepher P's robes, and taking a great hook in his hand (which he had also gotten), he went Very anciently to find out the mistress of his affection. Put as he went by the way, seeing himself clad in such unseemly rags, he began to smile at his own folly, and to reprove his fondness in these terms,

ebuanovo side, and us with himself, he drew nigh to the place where

love and obtain; but as she was in these thoughts, she perceived then that it was the young prince Dorastus, wherefore she rose up and reverently saluted him. Dorastus, taking her by the hand, repaid her curtsey with a sweet kiss, and, praying her to sit down by him, he began thus to lay the battery. [Its last shot is his offer of marri e.]

Fawnia, hearing this solemn protestation of Dorastus, could no longer withstand the assault, but yielded up the fort in these friendly terms.

[These friendly terms omitted.]

Dorastus, hearing this friendly conclusion of Fawnia, embraced her in his arms, swearing that neither distance, time, nor adverse fortune should diminish his affection, but that, in despite of the destinies, he would remain loyal unto death. Having thus plight their troth to each other, seeing they could not have the full fruition of their love in Sicilia, for that Egistus' consent would never be granted to so mean a match, Dorastus determined, as soon as time and opportunity would give them leave, to provide a great mass of money and many rich and costly jewels, for the easier carriage, and then to transport themselves and their treasure into Italy, where they should lead a contented life, until such time as either he could be reconciled to his father, or else by succession come to the kingdom. This device was greatly praised of Fawnia, for she feared if the king his father should but hear of the contract, that his fury would be such as no less than death would stand for payment; she therefore told him that delay bred danger, that many mishaps did fall out between the cup and the lip, and that, to avoid danger, it were best with as much speed as might be to pass out of Sicilia, lest fortune might prevent their pretence with some new despite. Dorastus, whom love pricked forward with desire, promised to despatch his affairs with as great haste as either time or opportunity would give him leave; and so, resting upon this point, after many embracings and sweet kisses, they departed.

Dorastus, having taken his leave of his best beloved Fawnia, went to the grove where he had his rich apparel, and there uncasing himself as secretly as might be, hiding up his shepherd's attire till occasion should serve again to use it, he went to the palace, showing by his merry countenance that either the state of his body was amended or the case of his mind greatly redressed. Fawnia, poor soul, was no less joyful; that, being a shepherd, fortune had favoured her so as to reward her with the love of a prince, hoping in time to be advanced from the daughter of a poor farmer to be the wife of a rich king, so that she thought every hour a year, till by their

departure they might prevent danger, not ceasing still to go every day to her sheep, not so much for the care of her flock is for the desire she had to see her love and lord, Dorastus, who oftentimes, when opportunity would serve, repaired thither to feed his fancy with the sweet content of Fawnia's presence. And although he never went to visit her but in his shepherd's rags, yet his oft repair made him not only suspected, but known to divers of their neighbours, who, for the goodwill they bare to old Porrus, told him secretly of the matter, wishing him to keep his daughter at home, lest she went so oft to the field that she brought him home a young son; for they feared that Fawnia being so beautiful, the young prince would allure her to folly. Porrus was stricken into a dump at these news, so that, thanking his neighbours for their goodwill, he lied him home to his wife, and calling her aside, wringing his hands and shedding forth tears, he broke he matter to her in these terms.

[Terms omitted, except their conclusion.] "I mean to take the chain and the jewels that I found with Fawnia, and carry them to the king, letting him then to understand how she is none of my daughter, but that I found her beaten up with the water alone in a little boat, wrapped in a rich mantle, wherein was inclosed this treasure. By this means I hope the king will take Fawnia into his service, and we, whatsoever chanceth, shall be blameless." This device pleased the good wife very well; so that they determined, as soon as they might know the king at leisure, to make him privy to this case.

In the meantime Dorastus was not slack in his affairs, but applied his matters with such diligence that he provided all things fit for their journey. Treasure and jewels he had gotten great store, thinking there was no better friend than money in a strange country; rich attire he had provided for Fawnia, and, because he could not bring the matter to pass without the help and advice of some one, he made an old servant of his, called Capnio, who had served him from his childhood, privy to his altairs, who, seeing no persuasions could prevail to divert him from his settled determination, gave his consent, and dealt so secretly in the cause that within short space he had gotten a ship ready for their passage. The inariners, seeing a fit gale of wind for their purpose, wished Capnio to make no delays, lest if they preterinitted this good weather they might stay long ere they had such a fair wind. Capnio, fearing that his negligence should 24 tima soyrved the trunks