drawn up the following analysis, so far as the mutilated
fragment before me would allow, (and where am I to
look for a more perfect copy?) for the loan of which
fragment I am indebted to a friend, who beguiles the
weariness of a laborious profession, by an occasional re-
currence to the blandishments of antiquated literature.
Upon first glance at this relic, I have to lament the
carelessness of some former owner in whose custody the
title-page has probably met with destruction. The
remnant consists of sixty-four unpaged leaves, one being
deficient in the centre, and a considerable number at the
conclusion ; the whole perhaps constituting about three
fourths of its original bulk. The size duodecimo, though
with the usual octavo signatures.
From the register of the Stationers' Company (the
only place wherein I can find the above mentioned) it
appears that Thomas Col well had license in the year
1565 to print " The moste notable history of the lorde
Mandozze." It will be remembered that Colwell was
likewise the printer of De la Peend's translation of the
fable of Hermaphroditus and Salmacis, for which he had
license in the same year, and which has been described
in the last Number. * Of the translator of these two
* Vide No. IX. p. 344.
pieces as little seems to have been known as of his works;
and this little is confined solely to what may be gleaned
from himself. From the dedication to the latter work it
appears that he bestowed much time upon a translation of
Ovid, but that he was anticipated by a prior publication,
doubtless Arthur Golding's. This he dates from his
"chamber over agaynst Sergeants inne in Chancery lane,
The dedication to " the Historie of Lord Mandozze,"
which is the first leaf of the fragment before me, is ad-
dressed in the following words
" To the Ryght Worshipfull Syr Thomas Kemp,
" Ryght Worshypfull Syr, whe thankfulnes bail presented
unto mine eies the bookes : whearein the names of my frends
are imprynted. I founde you for sundrye causes possessing
an high place thearein. Whearfore, though it fall not to my
fortune presently, to acquit & discharge my duty: yet these,
as certaine signe of my good will, to the uttermost of my smail
powre may gratefy you in the meane time. Which as they
are (y e simple frutes of my small orcheyard: the travayle of
my rude Muse) I leave to the judgment of the Jearned and
dyscreate readers. Wishynge to your Worshyppe perfecte
From the mydle Temple,
your ky~desman : to
After a poetical address " To the Reader," wherein
he deprecates the snarling censures of those who
" seeke to byte
my name behynde my backe,
To saye that here his verse is lame,
or here good sencc doth lacke.
For I ofte times have heard
the vyle despysed sorte
Blynd ignorantes, ot worthie bokes
to make suche rashe reporte :
That when in order good,
they could not read the same,
They doubted not by slanderous wordes
the aucthors to defame;"
" The Argument.
" The mercy e of God is merveylous:
Which whe~ it pleaseth him to extend
On men, no will so mischevous,
Can it pervert from perfect end.
As in tins worthye hystorye,
1 1 by a Duchesse maye appeare,
Which faslye of adullerye
Accused, is condemned heare
For to be turned in a fyre:
As then the custome did requyre:
But God, which still defendeth ryght,
From deathe hath her delyvered,
By prowesse of a Spanishe knyght:
Whom afterward she maryed."
After a short exordium the poem opens with a de-
scription of the person of : ' Lord John of Mandossa."
rhe head of a powerful family which had been for the
space of forty years at variance with the neighbouring
tribes of the Tolledoes, when after numerous petty con-'
tests at length
" with armyes great
they met theyr myght to trye:
By dynt of swerd they wold discerne
theyr matters by & by."
The numerous retainers of Mandossa were of course
led to the field by our hero, who
" Dyd fane exoell them all
in every exercyse:
Most valiant, most actyve, and
ryght polityke lyke wyse.
He was beloved muche
of all the commons t heare:
Accepted for hys courtesye,
with prynces every wheare.
As Pallas paynted had
his mtnde with lerned arte:
Even so dame Nature then, in hym
ryght well had wrought her parte.
His lymmes were fynely framd,
hys joyntes so strongly knyt.
That as the Simphonye alwayes
doth please the eares : so it
The gasyng eyes of men
doth still delyght as muche.
No paynter for his portraiture
couid pycture any suche.
The Grekishe paynter myght
an hundred graces theare
Have seene, which erst in scfdry shapes
he found not any wheare.
And as hys shape did shew
right semelie to the syght,
So for his force he was well knowne
to be a valiaunt knight.
In auncyent hystoryes,
his higr.e renowmed fame,
Advaunced hath unto the skyes
the glorye of his name."
The progress of the battle is now minutely described,
and the prowess of our hero achieves wonders; but
while the contest is yet doubtful, Isabell his sister, " a
lady good, which for these thinges was sad," vows that
if her brother may be successful she will make a pil-
grimage to Rome on foot; which accordingly happen-
ing, she takes her departure from Spain, and travelling
through France at length reaches the city of " Thurin,"
in which ancient seat the Duke of Savoy resided with his
Duchess, the beautiful sister of the King of the happy
isle of Brute, who to say no more of her,
. " as to Helen, shee
was matche for goodly grace:
Even so her fame renoumed was
as much in every place."
Isabel, whose curiosity prompted her to realize the re-
port of fame as to the Duchess's beauty, chances to meet
her at the entrance of the city borne in " a horselitter
with horses fayre," and finding fame had been no flat-
terer, exclaims in the Spanish language,
" If God (saith shee)
' Wold grant, my brother might unto
this Duchesse married be:
Then might I well be bould
(and trutth therm) to saye,
1 hey were y e goodliest couple sure,
in Europe at this daye."
The Duchess, who happens to understand Spanish,
marks well the disguised pilgrim, and bids a page follow
and invite her to the castle, where enquiries and mutual
courtesies past, she interrogates Isabel's meaning in thus
exalting her brother's praises The shamefaced Spaniard,
feartul of offence, craves pardon; but meeting with en-
couragement, enlarges upon his beauty, so as to inflame
the Duchess's curiosity to a pitch, which the vision of
the following night helps to heighten. Upon Isabel's
departure, she gives wav to the most ungovernable pas-
sion, but nutting not with any means of compassing
her object, betakes herself to the usual resort of a
favourite maiden, her confidant, who possesses a suf-
ficient share of ingenuity to further her beloved mistress's
intrigue. Accordingly at the instigation of this Emblin,
and by the help of a skilful leech, her inamorata, the
Duchess feigns sickness, and is afflicted with such grievous
fits, that the best physicians of Thurin, who are sent to
her assistance by the Duke, give over the case as tlespe-
rate, and advise her to take relief in her spiritual coun-
sellors. By these she is exhorted to invoke the assistance
of the saints, and Emblin, improving the suggestion, re-
minds her, as had been concerted, that from her youth
she had ever worshipped Saint James. Upon this, as in
a trance, she exclaims, that, if bv the intercession of
this glorious Apostle she should recover her health, she
vows to pay due honour at his shrine in Spain, where his
body is interred. And now recovering to the surprise
and joy of the Duke her husband, who watched alone in
her chamber, the whole citv make rejoicings, in the
midst of which the lady Isabel arrives according to pro-
mise, on her return from Rome, and the Duchess, re-
lating her illness and her vow, they agree to take their
'journey into Spain together: the Duke's acquiescence
being obtained, they speedily travel on, accompanied
with fair ladies and lusty gentlemen, until thev reach
Spain. Having desired to be unknown, until they
" Arryve, wbeare as the lustie Lord.
John of Mandozze laye.
The Spanvshe Ladye praves
the Duchesse, then, that she
Maye sende to shew her brother that
arryved theare they be.
The Duchesse is content,
the messenger is gon,
And found the Lord Mandozze sone,
to whom he shewes anon,
How that the Duchesse is
even now, arryved theare.
And tels y e questions: which betwene
her, and his syster weare :
And passynge beautye of
the Duchesse doth declare.
Mandozze then right gladly doth
hym selfe forthwith prepare,
With fortie or fyftie of
his wortbyest gentlemen,
ftyght bravelye so appointed to
receave the Duchesse; then,
And in his mynde he thought,
iio Pryncesse was so free
Or careles of her labour, hi
that age and tyme : that slice:
A foote woulde undertake
So great a voyage for to make.
But for some other cause,
but what therof he maye
Conceave, in mind right well he doth
dissemble that alvvaye,
So on he rydes, tyll that
his syster doth espye,
Him from a fane in fyeldeS, and so
she sheweth by and by
Unto the Duchesse how,
he which co~mes rydynge heare
Uppon a Genet whyte as snowe :
that is her brother deare.
The rest his subjectes are.
Mandozze comming nighe,
Thryse or foure times at least, he maker
his horse to mount on high,
And leape into the ayre,
with flynging feete aloft.
On this syde turninge thtise about
on thother svde as oft,
His foote on ground being set
with comlie grace streightwaye
When he had kyste the Duchessc hand,
Madame, then dyd he saye,
I thinke the wandring knightes
that lyued longe agoe
And sought to wyn immortal fame
by valiaunt actes also,
If they had found suche hap,
admonge aventures great
That w l . suche worthie Pylgremes so
they might somtimc have met :
Theyr speare and harnes they
would soone have laved syde
To beare your burdens in the waye,
your travaill to a byde."
The Princess then returns a courtly answer, and Lord
Mandozze escorts her to his castle, each deeply impressed
with the perfections of the other, and each telling each,
by outward gestures, the secrets of the heart.
At this neriod of the poem the leaf before alluded to
has made its escape; but it would appear from the con-
text that the Duchess's discontented mind was not satis-
fied with the attentions of her lordly devotee ; for she de-
termines, after three days have passed, to make her exit
abruptly, without taking leave of her host. So thanking
Isahell for her courteous entertainment, she departs at
break of day, leaving Mandozze in much disorder when
he discovers her ungracious quittance: but presuming
himself to he in fault, he soon finds pretext for following,
and having overtaken her, passionately devotes himself
to her service. After much free avowal on both sides,
in which she promises to give satisfaction for her fault
on her return, Mandozze bends home with feverish
bosom, leaving the lady to pursue her journey.
" But fortune lyeih in watche
and doth her nettes prepare,
She spoyles them of their pleasures sonc,
and turnes theyr joye to care."
For the good Duke, uneasy in the absence of hi^
spouse, and beiug apprehensive of the imputation- which
so unguarded a journey might bring upon the honour of
vol. ii. mm a kind's
ting's sister, takes with him " store of gentlemen,"
1 arrives at St. James's town by sea, before the dally-
ing pilgrim had reached it. On hearing of her approach
he sends his attendants to meet her, and she plays her
part with much finesse.
" So she to him furthwith
with fayned speede doth goe,
And lovelie lookes for him right fine
she shaped had also,
Then after gretinge sweete
she pytieth his paine
That he in danger great for her
such travaile should sustayne,
And sorye in her minde
(she sayth) she is, therefore,
But for Mandozze lustye knyght
it greved her the more."
At the shrine of the saint, however, this fond dame
experiences a conversion, for
" her praiers ended fyrst
the Duchesse doth anon
Remember in her minde
her loves so lewdlye past,
And winnes so much of wyll, that she
repentyng. knowes at last
That God was much against
her enterpryses styll:
That shee the Duke unfaithfullye
deceyved: should fulfill
Her lust. And sorow so
doth synke within her brest,
That then within her heavye hart
furthwith she doth protest
To llye her fylthy flame,
and farther to forgett
Mandozze his graces all." &c.
Being now become penitent, she resolves to quench
hei unallowable affection, by departing immediately
from the land where it had been cherished, and so re-
turns by sea with the Duke
" To Thurin: wheare they lyved
to gether longe in joye,
And perfect love."
Their domestic happiness, however, is to meet with
another blow. The kingdom of France being invaded by
the Almains, the Duke of Savoy is sent for by the King,
to take the command of the French army, and in his
absence the " County Pancalyer," in whom he reposes
much confidence, is to act as his vicegerent. But the
county, elated with his elevation, begins to cherish im-
pure admiration of the Duchess's beauty, and having the
confidence to present his loathsome addresses to her ear,
is rejected with lofty indignation.
" She chaufeth much that he
of her so light should deeme :
To thinke that then her honour shee
so lytle should esteeme.
And shame to him, shee saide
that lyved all that whyle:
And yet a doting fole, could not
subdue affections vyle."
But Pancalin still persisting in his advances,
" Countie, she saith me thinke
the warning which before
I gave : might have perswaded you
to trouble me no more:
These enter pryses rashe,
and will you styll pursue:
Forgettinge how my lorde, the Duke
hath heare advanced you.
Is this the guerdon meate
which you to him restore?
And dyd he make you his
lieutenant now therfore,
That you uppon his bed
the rule also should take?
Is this the right discharge which you
of that same credyt make?
Is this (I praye) thallegeance due, .
Or servyce of a subject true ?
I promyse you, that if
you will not thus forgoe
These follyes, I will see that you
shalbe corrected so,
That subjectes from hence furthe
and traytours false, they shall
m m 2 Therbv
Therby exa~p!e take And thus
you maye be warned for all.
What confydence (1 praye)
myght make you now so bould :
That you to me so hardylye
so traytrous mynd unfould:
War* wyser from hence furthe,
to make your matche alwaye.
I am your princesse whom you ought
to honour and obaye. "
[To be continued.]
^J Sermo loins' Alcoh epi~ Elien. [Under a wood-cut
of a Bishop with his crosier, which is repeated on the
back of the title. Col.] Enprynted at Westmestff.
hi Wynkin the Worde. n. d. qto. extends to d viij.
A sermon by John Aleock, Bishop of Ely, the founder
of Jesus College, Cambridge. The text is " Jhesus
clamabat (Qui habet aure& audiendi audiat.) Luc. viiij."
And the writer, in enforcing; the necessitv of attending;
regularly to divine worship and taking the sacrament,
has introduced what would now appear singular, a di-
rection to his hearers to obtain full knowledge of all pro-
clamations as registered in the Court of Chancery;
citing Magna Charta and Bretton in support of his ad-
Two short extracts may be given to confirm the eluci-
dation of the well known line in Hamlet, " Unhousel'd,
disappointed," unanerd." Unanel'd, which first occurs,
applies to the priest administring extreme unction.
" This sacrament is deprecatori & stondyth in prayer ryght
as Cryst prayed vpon y c . crosse. -So in mynistracbn of this
sacrament y e . preest anelyrtg dyuers partes of manrrys body
bescchyth almyghty god that what soo euer thys creature hath
offendyd in h.U hert. by his eyen. his eercs. his hondss & fete.
or ony other part by the whyche he hath dysplesid hym. to
Unhousel'd refers to the eucharist.
" Noo man oughte to be crystenyd but in his parysshe
chyrche. nor to be shryuen by the lawe but of his curate,
whyche hath charge of his soule. as it is notid (in c
Oi~s extra depe. & re) Neucrtheles tberbe other places y'.
men maye be shryuen in by dispensacon. as in places where
pardons ben. And to certen freres whyche ben admytted to
here confessyon. Nor he ought not to be houselyd but in his
parissh chirche & also there to be buryed. except he chesc
some other place makynge to his owne chyrclie his (vltimu"
The new fashion and wantonness of the garments then
used, does not escape the censure of the good Bishop,
and the attempt of Lydgate at an earlier period to restrain
a similar excess, is thus described.
" Frendes I remembre dayes here before in my yongthe- y l
there was a vertuons monke of Bury callyd Lydgate. whiche
wrote many noble histories. & made many vertuous balettes to
the encrease of vertue & oppression of vyce. And amonge
other he made a treatyse callyd Galand. & all the kyndred of
Galand he discryued therm. I suppose if galantes vnderstode
the progeny, they wold refuse to be of y T . felyshyp & kyndrede.
The occasion of makynge this boke was whan englysshe men
were bete out <k had loste Fraunce. Gascoyn. Gyon & Nor-
mandye; & came home di=guysed in theyr garment in euery
parte of theyr bodyes. whiche englyssrfmen sawe neuer befor,
and many folowed the lewde & abhomynable garnientes. in so
moche y'. all good men cryed out of them. And thys good
monke in detestacyon of theyr synne& wretch ydnesse made the
sayd boke in balette wyse. And the repete of euery balett was
this, Knglonde may wayle y l . euer Galand came here ; and in
short season after. wer~grete surreccons. & murdre of lordis &
other; as I doubte not many y'. lyueth can remembre it. *
* Mons perfectionis . Otberivyse called in Englyssh The hylle of
perfection. [Beneath, a wood-cut of an Archbishop, with a crosier.
Col.] Here endeth the treatyse called Mons perfectionis. Emprynted
by Rycharde Pynson in the xiii.yere of our souerayne lorde Kynge Henry
the <vii. qto. e iij. This is an exhortacion by the same writer to
the Carthusians, recommending prayer, obedience, and the soli-
tude of the cell. There were several editions, but this is un-
noticed by Herbert. It is printed in double columns.
M M 3 The
^[ The Excellent Historye of Theseus and Ariadne.
Wherein is declared her feruent loue to hym : and his
Trayterous dealynge towarde her: Written in English
Meeter in Comendacion of all good women : and to
the Infamie of suche lyght Huswyues as Phedra the
sister of Ariadne was : which fled away w*, Theseus
her Sisters Husbande : and is declared in this His-
tory. By Thomas Fnderdoivne. Imprinted at Lon-
don by Rycharde Iohnes : and are to be sold at his
Shop, ioynyng to the South west Doore of Paules
Churche. 1566. 18 of Januarie. Oct. 16 leaves.
In " the Preface to the Reader," the author indulges
in a variety of severe and uncandid observations on the
general conduct of the female sex; and which are with
difficulty strained into an appearance of being founded
upon the characters of his poem, where true love is
shewn in Ariadne; craft, dissimulation, perfidy and
perjury, in Theseus : and unnatural lust and lechery in
" Iwyll not (he says) that any honest and vertuous woman
be towched with that I mynde to saye: but they onely who
in readynge hereof, shall by anye meanes fynde them selues
agreeued. And I wyll touche no poynt but onelye beautie.
For yf I shoulde saye what I haue seene, reade and harde, a
yeare were to lytell to tell of their trickes.
" Assuredly, he that desyreth a fayre woman armeth him
selfe to a right great and dangerous aduenture: and why? a
fayre woman is nothynge but a gasynge stocke of ydell folkes:
an earelye wakynge for them that bee lyghte : and she that is
desired for her Beautie in her youthe, may hope too haue but
a sorye lyfe in her age.
" An infalliole rule it is, that sfcee that is desyred for her
fayrenesse, is hated for her fowlenesse : and beautie of trouthe
is not perpetual!, but fadeth as the flowers nnd greene grasse.
Also he that hathe a fayre woman must suffre her pryde ; for
beautie and pryde go alwaye together. Also hee must suffre
herexpenees: for beautie in the face, and fo!ye in the head,
be two wormes that fret the lyfe, and consume the goodes.
Also hee must suffre her ryotes : for a faire woman wyll, that
none but shee haue her commnundementes in the howse.
Also hee muste suffre her nyce mynions: for a fayre woman
wyll pas-,c her time in pleasures. Also hee muste suffre
her presumption: for euerye fyne and fayre woma" wyll
haue preeminence before all other : & at a worde he that
hath a fayre woman is apparelde with as great peryll as
euer was Cartha with Scipio, Jerusalem with Titus, or Rome
with Brennus As for those that lyue nowe with us I
feare me, thei shalbe as yll reported of tyme to come, as
they be hated now with wise and auncient men : their looke*
be so loftie, their gate so stately, their apparell so disguised,
their courage so hawtye, that you may muse to here of their
maners, gestures, and behauiours, no lesse then thei were
monsters, or t hinges wherin Nature eyt her had erred, orwoulde
not shewe her force. And where in time passed, all that was
done otherwyse then honestie permitted was done very se-
cretely. Now (I knowe no cause why) they that bedyffamed
do as muche reioyce in their naughtines, as they aforetime
were ashamed of their misdedes : I can alledge no reason why
suche thyngs shouldecome to passe nowe, rather then in tymes
paste : but that oure women lyueso yedellye, that they eschewe
all honeste laboure, and wholly addicte themselues to vnhonest
ydlenesse. For this is certaine where the handes is occupyed :
there, the harte muste needes do somwhat: and if I saye not
true, let any man alleadge wheneuer there were moe ydeil
women in the whole worlde, then is nowe in the small circuit
of Englande. I reade howe diuers haue ben comended for
kepynge themselues close in their howses, vsynge themselues
discretelye with companye: moderatelye with their housholde.
decentlye with their husbandes. But neuer was any lauded,
for leadynge of an ydell lyfe. You ydle Dames whersoeuer
you be, tell me I praye you? What was the cause that Penelope
was so muche honoured in her tyme, and leftr: eternal memorie
of her gooil renowne to vs after her death? What trade of lyfe
led shee when Vlysses was at the siege of Troye? She beynge
a Quene dyd paynfullye spyn and keepe her howse, and for
all the knot of gentell woers that she had, she neuer left her
worke to dallye and toye with them, though her husband were
awaye xx. yeares But I suppose you cannot away with
spinnynge, for that vtterlye taketh awaye all vayne thoughtes,
and occupyeth the minrle with honest studyes: for all the
senses be moued by it: the eyes with seyeng that the threde
be well twyned: the e.ires with hearynge the sownde of
the wheele : the hands with turnyng it aboute, so that no
place is voyde of doing somwhat: whereby no yl can tary or
raigne in y e . hart : thus much I haue said because Ariadnes
idlenes caused al her griefe : for if she had not be" idle, she
had not gone out of her chamber : if she had not gon out of
m M 4 her
her chamber, she had not come (o the laberynthe wherein
Theseus was: if shee had not gone to the laberynthe, she
hadde not hard his complaint : if she had not hard his com-
plaint she had not loued him : if she had not loued him, she
had ben safe fro" the chaunce whiche happened to her: as in
the Historye shalbe declared. Ydleness is therfore the ground
.of all vice, & ouerthroweth quyte all the foundations of ver-
tne.". . . .
At the conclusion of the preface is given
" A Rule for women to Irynge vp their daughters.
" Ye mothers that your daughters wyll
brynge vp and nurture well :
These rules do keepe, & them obserue,
whiche J shall here nowe tell.
If they wyll go or gad ahrode,
their legges let broken bee:
Put out their eyes if they wyll looke
or gaze vndecentlye.
If they their eares wyll gyue to hark
what other men do saye
Stoppe them vp quyte, if geue or take,
then cut their handes avvaye
If they dare lyghtly vse to taike,
their lyppes together sowe:
If they wyll ought lyghtly cntende,