Decameron, translated by John Florio (attributed), 1620

The decameron containing an hundred pleasant nouels. Wittily discoursed, betweene seauen honourable ladies, and three noble gentlemen.
Decamerone. English
Boccaccio, Giovanni, 1313-1375.
1620
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The decameron containing an hundred pleasant nouels. Wittily discoursed, betweene seauen honourable ladies, and three noble gentlemen.
Decamerone. English
Boccaccio, Giovanni, 1313-1375.
Florio, John, 1553?-1625, attributed name.
2 v. ([6], 127, 146-210, [2]; [14], 134, 137-187 [i.e. 188] leaves) : ill.
Printed by Isaac Iaggard,
London :
1620.
By Giovanni Boccaccio.
Translation sometimes attributed to John Florio.
The first volume has a final errata leaf; the last leaf is blank. The second volume has a preliminary blank leaf and title page reading "The decameron .. The last fiue dayes. ..".
The last two leaves of vol. 2 are numbered 177, 187.
Vol. 1, B1 is a cancel with recto catchword "and". Variant: with cancellandum B1, recto catchword "then".
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THE
Decameron
CONTAINING
An hundred pleaſant
Nouels.
Wittily diſcourſed, betweene
ſeauen Honourable Ladies, and
three Noble Gentlemen.
London, printed by
Iſaac Iaggard,
1620.
TO THE RIGHT HOnourable, Sir PHILLIP HERBERT, Knight of the Bath at the Coronation of our Soueraigne Lord King Iames, Lord Baron of Sherland, Earle of Montgomery, and Knight of the most Noble Order of the Garter, &c. (*⁎*)
THE Philoſopher Zeno (Right Honourable,
and my most worthily esteemed
Lord) being demaunded on a time
by what meanes a man might attaine to
happineſſe; made anſwere: By reſorting
to the dead, and hauing familiar
conuerſation with them. Intimating
thereby: The reading of ancient
and moderne Hiſtories, and endeauouring to learne
ſuch good inſtructions, as haue bene obſerued in our Predeceſſors.
A Question alſo was mooued by great King Ptolomy,
to one of the learned wiſe Interpreters. In what occaſions a King
ſhould exerciſe himſelfe, whereto thus hee replyed: To know
thoſe things which formerly haue bin done: And to read
Bookes of thoſe matters which offer themſelues dayly, or
are fitteſt for our inſtant affaires. And laſtly, in ſeeking
thoſe things whatſoeuer, that make for a Kingdomes preſeruation,
and the correction of euill manners or examples.
Vpon theſe good and warrantable grounds (most Noble Lord)
beſide many more of the ſame Nature, which I omit, to auoide prolixity,
I dare boldly affirme, that ſuch as are exerciſed in the reading
of Histories, although they ſeeme to be but yong in yeares, and
ſlenderly instructed in worldly matters: yet grauity and gray-headed
age speaketh maturely in them, to the no meane admiration of
common and vulgar iudgement. As contrariwiſe, ſuch as are ignorant
of things done and past, before themſelues had any being: continue
ſtill in the estate of children, able to ſpeake or behaue themſelues
no otherwiſe; and, euen within the bounds of their Natiue
Countries (in respect of knowledge or manly capacity) they are no
more then well-ſeeming dumbe Images.
In due conſideration of the precedent allegations, and vppon the
command, as alſo most Noble encouragement of your Honour from
time to time; this volume of ſingular and exquiſite Histories, varied
into ſo many and exact natures, appeareth in the worlds view,
vnder your Noble patronage and defence, to be ſafely ſheelded from
foule mouthed ſlander and detraction, which is too eaſily throwne
vpon the very beſt deſeruing labours.
I know (most worthy Lord) that many of them haue (long ſince)
bene publiſhed before, as stolne from the first originall Author, and
yet not beautified with his ſweete ſtile and elocution of phraſes, neither
ſauouring of his ſingular morall applications. For, as it was his
full ſcope and ayme, by diſcouering all vices in their vgly deformities,
to make their mortall enemies (the ſacred Vertues) to ſhine
the clearer, being ſet downe by them, and compared with them: ſo
euery true and vpright iudgement, in obſeruing the courſe of theſe
well-carried Nouels, ſhall plainly perceiue, that there is no ſpare
made of reproofe in any degree whatſoeuer, where ſin is embraced,
and grace neglected; but the iust deſeruing ſhame and puniſhment
thereon inflticted, that others may be warned by their example. In
imitation of witty Aeſope; who reciteth not a Fable, but graceth it
with a iudicious morall application; as many other worthy Writers
haue done the like.
For instance, let me heere inſert one. A poore man, hauing a pike
ſtaffe on his ſhoulder, and trauailing thorow a Countrey Village, a
great Mastiue Curre ran mainly at him, ſo that hardly he could defend
himſelfe from him. At the length, it was his chance to kill the
Dogge: for which, the Owner immediately apprehending him, and
bringing him before the Iudge, alledged, that he had ſlaine his ſeruant,
which defended his life, houſe, and goods, and therefore challenged
ſatisfaction. The Iudge leaning more in fauour to the Plaintiffe,
as being his friend, neighbor, and familiar, then to the iuſtice
and equity of the cauſe; reprooued the poore fellow ſomwhat ſharpely,
and peremptorily commanded him, to make ſatisfaction, or els he
would commit him to priſon. That were iniustice replyed the poore
man, becauſe I kilde the dogge in defence of mine owne life, which
deſerueth much better respect then a million of ſuch Curres. Sirra,
ſirra, ſaide the Iudge, then you ſhould haue turned the other end of
your staffe, and not the pike, ſo the dogges life had beene ſaued, and
your owne in no danger. True Sir (quoth the fellow) if the dog would
haue turn'd his taile, and bit mee with that, and not his teeth, then
we both had parted quietly.
I know your Honor to be ſo truly iudicious, that your ſelfe can
make the morall alluſion, both in defence of my poore paines, and acceptation
of the ſame into your protection: with most humble ſubmiſsion
of my ſelfe, and all my vttermoſt endeauours, to bee alwayes
ready at your ſeruice.
The Authors Prologue, to the Lords, Ladies, and Gentlewomen.
IT is a matter of humanity, to take compaſſion on the afflicted,
and although it be fitting towards all in generall,
yet to ſuch as are moſt tied by bond of duty, who hauing
already ſtood in neede of comfort, do therfore moſt
needfully deſerue to enioy it. Among whom, if euer any
were in neceſſity, found it moſt precious, and therby receiued
no ſmall contentment, I am one of them; becauſe from my verie
yongeſt yeeres, euen vntill this inſtant: mine affections becam extraordinarily
enflamed, in a place high and Noble, more (perhaps) then beſeemed
my humble condition, albeit no way diſtaſted in the iudgement
of ſuch as were diſcreete, when it came truly to their knowledge and vnderſtanding.
Yet (indeed) it was very painfull for me to endure, not in
regard of her cruelty, whom I ſo deerely loued; as for want of better gouernment
in mine owne carriage; being altogether ſwayed by raſh and
peeuiſh paſſions, which made my afflictions more offenſiue to mee, then
either wiſedome allowed, or ſuited with my priuate particular.
But, as counſell in miſery is no meane comfort, ſo the good aduice of
a worthy friend, by many ſound and ſingular perſwaſions, wrought ſuch
a deliberate alteration; as not onely preſerued my life (which was before
in extreame perill) but alſo gaue concluſion ro my inconſiderate loue,
which in my precedent refractarie carriage, no deliberation, counſell, euident
ſhame, or whatſoeuer perill ſhould enſue thereon, could in any
manner contradict; beganne to aſſwage of it ſelfe in time, beſtowing not
onely on me my former freedome, but deliuering me likewiſe from infinite
perplexities.
And becauſe the acknowledgement of good turnes or courteſies receiued
(in my poore opinion) is a vertue among all other highly to bee
commended, and the contrary alſo to be condemned: to ſhewe my ſelfe
not ingratefull, I determined (ſo ſoone as I ſaw my ſelfe in abſolute liberty)
in exchange of ſo great a benefit beſtowne on mee, to miniſter ſome
mitigation, I will not ſay to ſuch as releeued me, becauſe their owne better
vnderſtanding, or bleſſedneſſe in Fortune, may defend them from any
ſuch neceſſity; but rather to them which truly ſtand in need. And although
that my comfort, may ſome way or other auaile the common
needie, yet (methinkes) where greefe is greateſt, and calamity moſt inſulteth;
there ought to be our paines ſoundly imployed, and our graueſt
inſtructions and aduiſe wholly adminiſtred.
And who can deny, but that it is much more conuenient, to commiſſerate
the diſtreſſe of Ladies and Gentlewomen, then the more able condition
of men? They, as being naturally baſhfull and timorous, haue their
ſoft and gentle ſoules, often enflamed with amorous afflictions, which
lie there cloſely concealed, as they can beſt relate the power of them, that
haue bin ſubiect to the greateſt proofe. Moreouer, they being reſtrained
from their wils and deſires, by the ſeuerity of Fathers, Mothers, Bretheren,
and Husbands, are ſhut vp (moſt part of their time) in their Chambers,
where conſtrainedly ſitting idle, diuerſity of ſtraunge cogitations
wheele vp and downe their braines, forging as many ſeuerall imaginations,
which cannot be alwayes pleaſant and contenting. If melancholly,
incited by ſome amorous or louely apprehenſion, oppreſſe their weake
and vnreſiſting hearts: they muſt be glad to beare it patiently (til by better
Fortune) ſuch occaſions happen, as may ouercome ſo proud an vſurpation.
Moreouer, we cannot but confeſſe, that they are leſſe able, then men,
to ſupport ſuch oppreſſions: for if men grow affectionate, wee plainely
perceiue, when any melancholly troubleſome thoughts, or what greefes
elſe can any way concerne them, their ſoules are not ſubiect to the like
ſufferings. But admit they ſhould fall into ſuch neceſſity, they can come
and go whither they will, heare and ſee many ſingular ſights, hawk, hunt,
fiſh, fowle, ride, or ſaile on the Seas, all which exerciſes haue a particular
power in themſelues, to withdraw amorous paſſions, and appropriate
the will to the pleaſing appetite, either by alteration of ayre, diſtance
of place, or protraction of time, to kill ſorrow, and quicken delight.
Wherefore, ſomewhat to amend this error in humane condition, and
where leaſt ſtrength is, as we ſee to bee in you moſt gracious Ladies and
Gentlewomen, further off (then men) from all fraile felicities: for ſuch
as feele the weighty inſultations of proud and imprious loue, and therby
are moſt in neede of comfort (and not they that can handle the Needle,
Wheele, and Diſtaffe) I haue prouided an hundred Nouelles, Tales, Fables,
or Hiſtories, with iudicious moralles belonging to them, for your
more delight, and queinter exerciſe. In a faire and worthy aſſembly, of
ſeuen Honourable Ladies, and three Noble Gentlemen, they were recounted
within the compaſſe of ten dayes, during the wofull time of our
ſo late dangerous ſickneſſe, with apt Sonnets or Canzons, for the concluſion
of each ſeuerall day.
In which pleaſing Nouels, may be obſerued many ſtrange accidents of
Loue, and other notable aduentures, happening as well in our times, as
thoſe of grauer antiquity: by reading whereof, you may receyue both
pleaſure and profitable counſell, becauſe in them you ſhal perceiue, both
the ſin to be ſhunned, and the vertue to be embraced; which as I
wholly hate the one, ſo I do (and euer will) honor
the others aduancement.
The Table.
The Firſt Day, Gouerned by Madam Pampinea.
MEſsire Chappelet du Prat, by making a
falſe confeſsion, beguiled an holy religious
man, and after dyed. And hauing during
his life time, bene a very bad man, at his death
was reputed to be a Saint, and called S. Chappelet.
2. Nouell.
ABraham a Iew, beeing admoniſhed or aduiſed
by a friend of his, named Iehannot de Cheuigny,
trauailed from Paris vnto Rome: And beholding
there, the wicked behauiour of men in the
Church, returned to Paris againe, where (neuertheleſſe)
he became a Chriſtian.
3. Nouell.
MElchiſedech a Iewe, by recounting a tale of
three Rings, to the great Soldan, named Saladine,
preuented a great danger which was prepared
for him.
4. Nouell.
A Monke hauing committed an offence deſeruing
to be very greeuouſly puniſhed; freed himſelfe
from the paine to be inflicted on him, by wittily reprehending
his Abbot, with the very ſame fault.
5. Nouell.
LAdy Marqueſſe of Montferrat, with a Banket
of Hens, and diuers other gracious ſpeeches beſide,
repreſſed the fond loue of the King of France.
6. Nouell.
AN honeſt plaine meaning man (ſimply & conſcionably)
reprehended the malignity, hypocriſie,
and miſdemeanor of many religious perſons.
7. Nouell.
BErgamino, by telling a Tale of a skilfull man,
named Primaſſo, and of an Abbot of Clugni;
honeſtly checked a new kinde of couetouſneſſe, in
Maſter Can de la Scala.
8. Nouell.
GVillaume Bourſieur, with a few quaint & familiar
word:, checkt the miſerable couetouſneſſe
of Signior Herminio de Grimaldi.
9. Nouell.
HOw the King of Cyprus was wittily reprehended,
by the words of a Gentlewoman of Gaſcoignie,
and became vertuouſly altered from his
vicious diſpoſition.
10. Nouell.
MAſter Albert of Bullen, honeſtly made a Lady
to bluſh, that thought to haue done aſmuch
to him, becauſe ſhe perceiued him to be amorouſly
affected towardes her.
The ſecond Day, gouerned by Madam Philomena.
1. Nouell.
MArtellino counterfetting to bee lame of his
members, cauſed himſelfe to bee ſet on the
body of Saint Arriguo, where hee made
ſhew of his ſodaine recouery
〈◊〉
but when his diſsi
•
ulation
was diſcouered, he was well beaten, being
afterward taken priſoner, and in great
〈◊〉
of being hanged and ſtrangled by the necke, and
yet eſcaped in the end.
2. Nouell.
RInaldo de Eſte, after he was rolled by theeues
arriued at Chaſteau
〈◊〉
where he was
friendly lodged by a faire Widow, and recompenced
likewiſe for all his loſſes; returning afterward
ſafe and well home vnto his owne houſe▪
3. Nouell.
OF three yong Gentlemen, being Brethren, and
hauing ſpent all their Landes and poſſeſsion
•
vainly, became poore. A Nephew of theirs (falling
almoſt into as deſperate a condition) became
acquainted with an Abbot, whom hee afterward
found to be the King of Englands Daughter, and
made him her Husband in marriage, recompencing
all his Vnckles loſſes, and ſeating them again
in good eſtate.
4. Nouell.
LAndolpho Ruffolo, falling into pouerty, became
a Pirate on the Seas, and beeing taken by the
Genewayes, hardly eſcaped drowning: Which yet
(neuertheleſſe) he did, vpon a little cheſt or coffer
full of very rich Iewels, beeing carried thereon to
Corfu, where he was well entertained by a good
woman: and afterward, returned richly home to
his owne houſe.
5. Nouell.
ANdrea de Piero, trauelling from Perouſe vnto
Naples to buy Horſes, was (in the ſpace of one
night) ſurprized by three admirable accidents,
out of all which he fortunately eſcaped, and with
a rich Ring, returned home to his owne houſe.
6. Nouell.
MAdame Beritola Caracalla, was found in an
Iſland with two Goates, hauing loſt her two
ſons, and thence trauailed into Lunigiana
•
where
one of her Sonnes became ſeruant to the Lord therof,
and was
•
ound ſome-what ouer-familiar with
his Maiſters daughter, who therefore cauſed him
to be impriſoned. Afterward when the Country of
Sicily rebelled againſt King Charles, the aforeſaid
Sonne chanced to be known by his Mother, & was
married to his Maſters daughter. And his brother
being found likewiſe, they both returned to great
eſtate and credite.
7. Nouell.
THe Soldane of Babylon ſent one of his Daughters,
to be ioyned in marriage with the King of
Cholcos; who by diuers accidents (in the ſpace of
foure yeares) happened into the cuſtodie of nine
men, and in ſundry places. At length, being reſtored
backe to her Father, ſhe went to the ſaid king
of Cholcos, as a Maide, and as at firſt ſhe was intended
to be his Wife.
8. Nouell.
COunt D'Angiers being falſely accuſed, was baniſhed
out of France, and left his two children
in England in diuers places. Returning afterward
(vnknowne) thorough Scotland, hee found them
aduanced vnto great dignity: Then, repairing in
the habit of a Seruitor, into the King of Fraunce
his army, and his innocency made publikely knowen,
he was reſeated in his former honorable degree.
9. Nouell.
BErnardo, a Merchant of Geneway, being deceiued
by another Merchant, named Ambroſio,
loſt a great part of his goods: and commanding his
innocent wife to be murthered, ſhe eſcaped, and in
the habit of a man, became ſeruant to the Soldan.
The deceiuer being found at laſt ſhe cōpaſſed ſuch
means, that her husband Bernardo came into Alexandria,
and there after due puniſhment inflicted
on the falſe deceiuer, ſhe reſumed the garments
againe of a woman, and returned home with her
Husband to Geneway.
10. Nouell.
PAgamino da Monaco, a rouing Pyrate on the
feas, caried away the faire Wife of Signieur
Ricciardo di Chi
•
zica, who vnderſtanding where
ſhee was, went th
•
ther▪ and falling into friendſhip
with Pagamino, demanded his wife of him; wherto
be yeelded, prouided, that ſhe would willingly go
away with him: ſhee denied to part thence with
her husband and
〈◊〉
Ricciardo dying, ſhee became
the wife of Pagamino.
The third day, gouerned by Madame Neiphila.
1. Nouell.
MAſſetto di Lamporechio, by counterfetting
himſelfe dumbe, became a Gardiner in a
Monaſtery of Nuns, where he had familiar
conuerſation with them all.
2. Nouell.
A Querry of the ſtable belonging to Agilulffo, K▪
of the Lombards, found the meanes of acceſſe
to the Queenes bedde, without any knowledge or
conſent in her. This beeing ſecretly diſcouered by
the King, and the party knowne, hee gaue him a
marke, by ſhearing the haire of his head. Whereuppon,
hee that was ſo ſhorne▪ ſheared likewiſe the
heads of all his fellowes in the lodging, and ſo eſcaped
the puniſhment intended towards him.
3. Nouell.
VNder colour of confeſsion and of a moſt pure cō
ſcience,
a faire yong Gentlewoman, being amorouſly
affected to an honeſt man; induced a deuout
and ſolemne religious Friar, to aduiſe her in the
meanes (without his ſuſpition or perceiuing) how to
enioy the benefit of her friend, and bring her deſires
to their full effect.
4. Nouell.
A Yong ſcholler named Felice, enſtructed Puccio
di Rinieri, how to become rich in a very ſhort
time. While Puccio made experience of the inſtructions
taught him; Felice obtained the fauour of
his daughter.
5. Nouell.
RIcciardo, ſurnamed the Magnifico, gaue a horſe
to ſignior Franceſco Vergilliſi, vpon condition;
that by his leaue and licenſe, he might ſpeak to his
wife in his preſence; which he did, and ſhe not returning
him any anſwer, made anſwer to himſelf
on her behalfe, and according to his anſwer, ſo the
effect followed.
6. Nouell.
RIcciardo Minutolo fel in loue with the Wife of
Philippello Fighinolfi, and knowing her to bee
very iealous of her husband, gaue her to vnderſtand,
that he was greatly enamored of his Wife,
and had appointed to meete her priuatly in a bathing
houſe, on the next day following: where ſhee
hoping to take him tardy with his cloſe compacted
Miſtreſſe, found her ſelfe to be deceiued by the ſaid
Ricciardo.
7. Nouel
•
.
THebaldo Eliſei, hauing receiued an vnkinde repulſe
by his beloued, departed from Florence, &
returning thither againe (a long while after) in
the habit of a pilgrime, hee ſpake with her, and
made his wrongs knowne vnto her. Hee deliuered
her husband from the danger of death, becauſe it
was proued that he had ſlaine Thebaldo▪ he made
peace with his brethren, and in the end, wiſely enioyed
his hearts deſire.
8. Nouell.
FErando, by drinking a certaine kind of pouder,
was buried for dead▪ & by the Abbot who was
enamored of his wife, was taken out of his graue,
and put into a darke priſon, where they made him
beleeue that he was in purgatory: afterward whē
time came that he ſhould be raiſed to life againe,
he was made to keepe a childe, which the Abbot
had got by his wife.
9. Nouell.
IVliet of Narbona, cured the King of France of a
dangerous Fiſtula▪ in recompence wherof, ſhe requeſted
to enioy as her husband in mariage, Bertrand
the Count of Rouſsilion. He hauing maried
her againſt his wil, as vtterly deſpiſing her, went
to Florence, where he made loue to a yong Gentlewoman.
Iuliet, by a queint and cunning policy,
compaſſed the meanes (inſted of his choſen friend)
to lye with her owne husband, by whom ſhee had
two ſonnes; which being afterward made knowne
vnto the Count, hee accepted her into his fauor againe,
and loued her as his loyall and honourable
wife.
10. Nouell.
THe wonderfull and chaſte reſolued continencie
of faire Serictha, daughter to Siwalde King of
Denmarke, who beeing ſought and ſued vnto by
many worthy perſons, that did affect her dearely,
would not looke any man in the face, vntill ſuch
time as ſhe was maried.
The Fourth Day, gouerned by Philoſtratus.
1. Nouell.
TAncrede, Prince of Salern, cauſed the amorous
friend of his daughter to be ſlaine, and
ſent her his heart in a cup of Golde: which
afterward ſhe ſteeped in an impoyſoned water, &
then drinking it, ſo dyed.
2. Nouell.
FRiar Albert made a yong Venetian Gentlewoman
beleeue, that God Cupid was falne in loue
with her, and he reſorted oftentimes vnto her, in
diſguiſe of the ſame God: afterward, being frighted
by the Gentlewomans kindred and friends, hee
caſt himſelfe out of her chamber window, and was
hidden in a poore mans houſe. On the day following
in the ſhape of a wilde or ſauage man, he was
brought vpon the Rialto of S. Mark & being ther
publikely knowne by the Brethren of his Order, he
was committed to priſon.
3. Nouell.
THree yong Gentlemen affecting three Siſters,
fled with them into Can
••
e. The eldeſt of them
(through iealouſie) becommeth the death of her
Louer. The ſecond, by conſenting to the Duke of
〈◊〉
requeſt, is the meanes of ſauing her life.
Afterward, her owne friend killeth her, & thence
flyeth away with the elder ſiſter. The third couple,
both man and woman are charged with her
death, and being committed to priſon, they cōfeſſe
the fact: and fearing death, by corruption of money
they preuaile with their
•
eepers, eſcaping frō
thence to Rhodes, where they died in great pouerty.
4. Nouell.
GErbino, contrarie to the former plighted faith
of his Grandfather King Gulielmo, foughte
with a ſhip at ſea belonging to the King of Thunis
to take away hi daughter, who was then in the
ſame ſhip. She being ſlaine by them that had the
poſſeſsion of her, he likewiſe ſlew them; and afterwar
•
had his owne head ſmitten off.
5. Nouell.
THe three Brethren to Iſabella, ſlew a Gentleman
that ſecretly loued her. His ghoſt appeared
to her in her ſleepe, and ſhewed her in what
place they had buried his body She (in ſilent maner)
brought away his head, and putting it into a
put of earth ſuch as Flowers, Baſile, or other ſweet
herbes are vſually ſet in, ſhe watered it (a long
while) with her teares: whereof her Brethren hauing
intelligence; ſoone after ſhe died, with meere
conceite of ſorow.
6. Nouell.
A Beautifull yong virgin, named Andreana, became
enamored of a young Gentleman, called
Gabriello. In conference together, ſhee declared a
dreame of hers to him▪ and he another of his vnto
her; whereupon Gabriello fell down ſodainly dead
She and her Chamber-maid were apprehended by
the Officers be o
•
ging vnto the Seigneury, as they
were carrying Gabriello, to lay them before his
owne doore. The Poteſtate offering violence to the
virgin, and ſhe reſiſting him vertuouſly: it came
to the vnderſtanding of her Father, who approued
the innocence of his daughter, and compaſſed her
deliuerance. But ſhe afterward, being wearie of
all worldly felicities, entred into Religion, & became
a Nun.
7. Nouell.
FAire Simonida affecting Paſquino, and walking
with him in a pleaſant garden, it fortuned
that Paſquino rubbed his teeth with a leafe of
Sage, and immediately fell downe dead. Simonida
being brought before the bench of Iuſtice, and
charged with the death of Paſquino: ſhe rubbed
her teeth likewiſe, with one of the leaues of the
ſame Sage, as declaring what ſhe ſaw him do, &
thereon ſhe dyed alſo in the ſame manner.
8. Nouell.
IEronimo affecting a yong Mayden named Sylueſtra
was conſtrained by the earneſt importunity
of his Mother, to take a iourney to Paris At
his returne home from thence againe, he found his
loue Silueſtra maried. By ſecret meanes he got entrance
into her houſe, and dyed vpon the bed lying
by her. Afterward, his body being caried vnto the
Church to receiue buriall, ſhee likewiſe died there
inſtantly vpon his coarſe.
9. Nouell.
MEſſer Guiglielmo of Roſsiglione hauing ſlaine
Meſſer Guiglielmo Guardaſtagno, whom he imagined
to loue his wife, gaue her his hart to eat.
Which ſhe knowing afterward; threw her ſelf out
of an high window to the ground: and being dead,
was then buried with her friend.
10. Nouell.
A Phyſitians wife laid a Louer of her maids, ſuppoſing
him to be dead in a cheſt by reaſon that
he had drunke water which vſually was giuen to
procure a ſleepy entrancing. Two Lombard Vſurers,
ſtealing the cheſt, in hope of a rich booty caried
it into their owne houſe, where afterwardes the
man awaking, was apprehended for a Theefe. The
Chamber-maid to the Phyſitians wife, going before
the bench of Iuſtice, accuſeth her ſelf for putting
the imagined dead body into the cheſt, wherby
he eſcaped hanging: and the Theeues which
ſtole away the cheſt, were condemned to pay a very
great ſumme of money.
The Fift day, Gouerned by Madame Fiammetta.
1. Nouell.
CHynon, by falling in loue, became wiſe, and
by force of Armes, winning his faire Ladye
Iphigema on the ſeas, was afterward impriſoned
at Rhodes Being deliuered by one name Liſimachus
with him he recouered his Iphigenia againe,
and faire Caſſandra, euen in the middeſt of
their mariage They fled with them into Candye,
where after they had maried them, they wer called
home to their owne dwelling.
2. Nouell.
FAire Conſtance of Liparis, fell in Loue with
Martuccio Gon
••
to: and hearing that hee was
dead, d
•
ſperately ſhe entred into a Barke, which
being tranſported by the winds to Suſa in Barbary,
from thence ſhe went to Thunis, where ſhe foūd
him to be liuing. There ſhe made her ſelfe knowne
to him, and he being in great authority as a priuy
Counſellor to the King▪ he maried the ſaide Conſtance,
and returned richly home to her, to the Iſland
of Liparis.
3. Nouell.
PEdro Bocamazzo, eſcaping away with a yong
Damoſel which he loued, named Angelina, met
with Theeues in his iourney The Damoſe
•
flying
fearfully into a Foreſt, by chaunce commeth to a
Caſtle. Pedro being taken by the theeues, & hapning
afterward to eſcape from them, accidentally
came to the ſame Caſtle where Angelina wa
•
: &
marying her, they then returned home to Rome.
4. Nouell.
RIcciardo Manardy, was found by Meſſer Lizio
da Valbonna, as he ſat faſt aſleep at his daughters
chamber window, hauing his hand faſt in hirs
and ſleeping in the ſame manner. Wherupon, they
were ioyned together in mariage, and their long
loyall loue mutually recompenced.
5. Nouell.
GVidotto of Cremona, departing out of this mortall
life, left a daughter of his with Iacomino
of Pauia. Giouanni di Seuerino, and Menghino da
Minghole, fel both in loue with the yong Maiden,
and fought for her; who being afterward knowne
to be the ſiſter to Giouanni, ſhee was giuen in mariage
to Menghino.
6. Nouell.
GVion di Procida, being found familiarly conuerſing
with a yong Damoſel which he loued,
and had bene giuen formerly to Frederigo King of
Sicily: was bound to a ſtake to bee conſumed with
fire. From which danger (neuertheleſſe) hee eſcaped;
being knowne by Don Rogiero de Oria, Lorde
Admirall of Sicily, and afterward marryed the
Damoſel.
7. Nouel
•
.
THeodoro falling in loue with Violenta, the
daughter to his Maſter, named Amarige, and
ſhe conceyuing with childe by him, was condemnd
to be hanged. As they were leading him vnto the
gallowes, beating and miſuſing him all the way:
hee happened to bee knowne by his owne Father,
whereupon he was releaſed, and afterward inioyed
Violent a in mariage.
8. Nouell.
ANaſtaſio, a Gentleman of the Family of the
Honeſti by louing the daughter to ſignior Pau
•
o
Trauerſario, lauiſhly waſted a great part of
his ſubſtance, without receiuing any loue from her
againe. By perſwaſion of ſome of his kindred and
friends, he went to a countrey dwelling of his called
Chiaſſo, where hee ſaw a Knight deſperately
purſue a yong Damoſell, whom he ſlew, & afterward
gaue her to be deuoured by his hounds. A taſtaſio
inuited his friends, and her
•
alſo whom he ſo
•
e
••
rly loued, to take part of a dinner with him,
who likewiſe ſawe the ſ
••
e Damoſell ſo torne in
peeces: which his vnkind loue perceiuing, & fearing
leaſt the like ill fortune ſhould happen to her▪
ſhe accepted Anaſtaſio to bee her husband.
9. Nouell.
FRederigo, of the Alberighi Family, loued a
Gentlewoman, and was not requited with like
loue againe. By bountiful expences, and ouer liberal
inuitations, hee waſted and conſumed all his
lands and goods, hauing nothing lefte him, but a
Hawke or Faulcon. His vnkinde Miſtreſſe, happeneth
to come viſit him, and he not hauing any
other food for her dinner, made a dainty diſh of
his Faulcon for her to feed on. Being conquered by
this his exceeding kinde courteſie, ſhe changed her
former hatred towards him, accepting him as her
husband in marriage, and made him a man of
wealthy poſſeſsions.
10. Nouell.
PEdro di Vinciolo, went to ſup at a friends houſe
in the City His wife (in the meane while) had
a yong man whom ſhe loued, at ſupper with her.
Pedro returning home vpon a ſodaine, the young
man was hidden vnder a Coope for Hens. Pedro,
in excuſe of his ſo ſoone comming home, declareth;
how in the houſe of Herculano (with whome hee
ſhould haue ſupt) a friend of his wiues was found,
which was the reaſon of the ſuppers breaking off.
Pedroes wiſe reprouing the errour of Herculanoes
wife: an Aſſe (by chance) treades on the youngmans
fingers that lay hidden vnder the Henne-Coope.
Vpon his crying out, Pedro ſteppeth thither,
ſees him, knowes him, and findeth the fallacie of
his wife: with whom (neuertheleſſe) he groweth
to agreement, in regard of ſome imperfections in
himſelfe.
The End of the Table.
THE DECAMERON, Containing, an Hundred pleaſant NOVELLES.
Wherein, after demonstration made by the Author, vpon what occaſion it hapned, that the perſons (of whom we ſhall ſpeake heereafter) ſhould thus meete together, to make ſo queint a Narration of Nouels: Hee declareth vnto you, that they first begin to deuiſe and conferre, vnder the gouernment of Madam Pampinea, and of ſuch matters as may be most pleaſing to them all.
The Induction of the Author, to the following Diſcourſes.
GRacious Ladies, ſo often as I conſider
with my ſelfe, and obſerue reſpectiuely, how naturally
you are enclined to compaſſion; as many
times do I acknowledge, that this preſent worke
of mine, will (in your iudgement) appeare to
haue but a harſh and offenſiue b
•
ginning, in regard
of the mournfull remembrance it beareth at
the verie entrance of the laſt Peſtilentiall mortality,
vniuerſally hurtfull to all that beheld it, or otherwiſe came to knowledge
of it. But for all that, I deſire it may not be ſo dreadfull to you, to
hinder your further proceeding in reading, as if none were to looke
thereon, but with ſighes and teares. For, I could rather with, that ſo
fearefull a beginning, ſhould ſeeme but as an high and ſteepy hil appeares
to them, that attempt to trauell farre on foote, and aſcending the ſame
with ſome difficulty, come afterward to walk vpon a goodly euen plaine,
which cauſeth the more contentment in them, becauſe the attaining
thereto was hard and painfull. For, euen as pleaſures are cut off by griefe
and anguiſh; ſo ſorrowes ceaſe by ioyes moſt ſweete and happie arriuing.
After this breefe molleſtation, briefe I ſay, becauſe it is contained within
ſmall compaſſe of Writing; immediately followeth the moſt ſweete
and pleaſant taſte of pleaſure, whereof (before) I made promiſe to you.
Which (peraduenture) could not bee expected by ſuch a beginning, if
promiſe ſtoode not thereunto engaged. And indeed, if I could wel haue
conueyed you to the center of my deſire, by any other way, then ſo rude
and rocky a paſſage as this is, I would gladly haue done it. But becauſe
without this Narration, we could not demonſtrate the occaſion how and
wherefore the matters hapned, which you ſhall reade in the enſuing Diſcourſes:
I muſt ſet them downe (euen as conſtrained thereto by meere
neceſſity) in writing after this manner.
The yeare of our bleſſed Sauiours incarnation, 1348. that memorable
mortality happened in the excellent City, farre beyond all the reſt in
Italy; which plague, by operation of the ſuperiour bodies, or rather for
our enormous iniquities, by the iuſt anger of God was ſent vpon vs mortals.
Some few yeeres before, it tooke beginning in the Eaſterne partes,
ſweeping thence an innumerable quantity of liuing ſoules: extending it
ſelfe afterward from place to place Weſtward, vntill it ſeized on the ſaid
City. Where neither humane skill or prouidence, could vſe any preuention,
notwithſtanding it was cleanſed of many annoyances, by diligent
Officers thereto deputed: beſides prohibition of all ſickly perſons enterance,
and all poſſible prouiſion dayly vſed for conſeruation of ſuch as
were in health, with inceſſant prayers and ſupplications of deuoute people,
for the aſſwaging of ſo dangerous a ſickneſſe.
About the beginning of the yeare, it alſo began in very ſtrange manner,
as appeared by diuers admirable effects; yet not as it had done in the
Eaſt Countries, where Lord or Lady being touched therewith, manifeſt
ſignes of incuitable death followed thereon, by bleeding at the noſe. But
here it began with yong children, male and female, either vnder the armpits,
or in the groine by certaine ſwellings, in ſome to the bigneſſe of an
Apple, in others like an Egge, and ſo in diuers greater or leſſer, which (in
their vulgar Language) they termed to be a Botch or Byle. In very ſhort
time after, thoſe two infected parts were grown mortiferous, and would
diſperſe abroad indifferently, to all parts of the body; whereupon, ſuch
was the qualitie of the diſeaſe, to ſhew it ſelfe by blacke or blew ſpottes,
which would appeare on the armes of many, others on their thighes, and
euerie part elſe of the body: in ſome great and few, in others ſmall and
thicke.
Now, as the Byle (at the beginning) was an aſſured ſigne of neere approaching
death; ſo prooued the ſpots likewiſe to ſuch as had them: for
the curing of which ſickneſſe it ſeemed, that the Phyſitians counſell, the
vertue of Medicines, or any application elſe, could not yeeld any remedy:
but rather it plainely appeared, that either the nature of the diſeaſe
would not endure it, or ignorance in the Phyſitians could not comprehend,
from whence the cauſe prooceeded, and ſo by conſequent, no reſolution
was to be determined. Moreouer, beſide the number of ſuch as
were skilfull in Art, many more both women and men, without euer hauing
any knowledge in Phyſicke, became Phyſitians: ſo that not onely
few were healed, but (well-neere) all dyed, within three dayes after the
ſaide ſignes were ſeene; ſome ſooner, and others later, commonly without
either Feauer, or any other accident.
And this peſtilence was yet of farre greater power or violence; for, not
onely healthfull perſons ſpeaking to the ſicke, comming to ſee them, or
ayring cloathes in kindneſſe to comfort them, was an occaſion of enſuing
death: but touching their garments, or any foode whereon the ſicke
perſon fed, or any thing elſe vſed in his ſeruice, ſeemed to transferre the
diſeaſe from the ſicke to the ſound, in very rare and miraculous manner.
Among which matter of maruell, let me tell you one thing, which if the
eyes of many (as well as mine owne) had not ſeene, hardly could I be perſwaded
to write it, much leſſe to beleeue it, albeit a man of good credit
ſhould report it. I ſay, that the quality of this contagious peſtilence was
not onely of ſuch efficacy, in taking and catching it one of another, either
men or women: but it extended further, euen in the apparant view
of many, that the cloathes, or any thing elſe, wherein one died of that
diſeaſe, being toucht, or lyen on by any beaſt, farre from the kind or quality
of man, they did not onely contaminate and infect the ſaid beaſt, were
it Dogge, Cat, or any other; but alſo it died very ſoone after.
Mine owne eyes (as formerly I haue ſaid) among diuers other, one day
had euident experience hereof, for ſome poore ragged cloathes of linnen
and wollen, torne from a wretched body dead of that diſeaſe, and
hurled in the open ſtreete; two Swine going by, and (according to their
naturall inclination) ſeeking for foode on euery dung-hill, toſſed and
tumbled the cloathes with their ſnouts, rubbing their heads likewiſe vppon
them; and immediately, each turning twice or thrice about, they
both fell downe dead on the ſaide cloathes, as being fully infected with
the contagion of them: which accident, and other the like, if not far greater,
begat diuers feares and imaginations in them that beheld them, all
tending to a moſt inhumane and vncharitable end; namely, to flie thence
from the ſicke, and touching any thing of theirs, by which meanes they
thought their health ſhould be ſafely warranted.
Some there were, who conſidered with themſelues, that liuing ſoberly,
with abſtinence from all ſuperfluity; it would be a ſufficient reſiſtance
againſt all hurtfull accidents. So combining themſelues in a ſociable manner,
they liued as ſeparatiſts from all other company, being ſhut vp in
ſuch houſes, where no ſicke body ſhould be neere them. And there, for
their more ſecurity, they vſed delicate viands and excellent wines, auoiding
luxurie, and refuſing ſpeech to one another, not looking forth at
the windowes, to heare no cries of dying people, or ſee any coarſes carried
to buriall; but hauing muſicall inſtruments, liued there in all poſſible
pleaſure. Others were of a contrary opinion, who auouched, that there
was no other phyſicke more certaine, for a diſeaſe ſo deſperate, then to
drinke hard, be merry among themſelues, ſinging continually, walking
euery where, and ſatisfying their appetites with whatſoeuer they deſired,
laughing, and mocking at euery mournefull accident, and ſo they vowed
to ſpend day and night: for now they would goe to one Tauerne, then to
another, liuing without any rule or meaſure; which they might very eaſilie
doe, becauſe euery one of them, (as if he were to liue no longer in this
World) had euen forſaken all things that he had. By meanes whereof
the moſt part of the houſes were become common, and all ſtrangers,
might doe the like (if they pleaſed to aduenture it) euen as boldly as the
Lord or owner, without any let or contradiction.
Yet in all this their beaſtly behauiour, they were wiſe enough, to ſhun
(ſo much as they might) the weake and ſickly: In which miſery and affliction
of our City, the venerable authority of the Lawes, as well diuine
as humane, was euen deſtroyed, as it were, through want of the awefull
Miniſters of them. For they being all dead, or lying ſicke with the reſt,
or elſe liued ſo ſolitary, in ſuch great neceſſity of ſeruants and attendants,
as they could not execute any office, whereby it was lawfull for euery one
to doe as he liſted.
Betweene theſe two rehearſed extremities of life, there were other of
a more moderate temper, not being ſo daintily dieted as the firſt, nor
drinking ſo diſſolutely as the ſecond; but vſed all things ſufficient for
their appetites, and without ſhutting vp themſelues, walked abroade,
ſome carrying ſweete noſe-gayes of flowers in their hands; others odoriferous
herbes, and others diuers kinds of ſpiceries, holding them to their
noſes, and thinking them moſt comfortable for the braine, becauſe the
ayre ſeemed to be much infected, by the noyſome ſmell of dead carkaſes,
and other hurtfull ſauours. Some other there were alſo of more inhumane
minde (howbeit peraduenture it might be the ſureſt) ſaying, that
there was no better phyſicke againſt the peſtilence, nor yet ſo good; as to
flie away from it, which argument mainely mouing them, and caring for
no body but themſelues, very many, both men and women, forſooke the
City, their owne houſes, their Parents, kindred, friends, and goods, flying
to other mens dwellings elſe-where. As if the wrath of God, in puniſhing
the ſinnes of men with this plague, would fall heauily vpon none,
but ſuch as were encloſed within the City wals; or elſe perſwading themſelues,
that not any one ſhould there be left aliue, but that the finall ending
of all things was come.
Now albeit theſe perſons in their diuerſity of opinions died not all, ſo
vndoubtedly they did not all eſcape; but many among them becomming
ſicke, and making a generall example of their flight and folly, among
them that could not ſtirre out of their beds, they languiſhed more perplexedly
then the other did. Let vs omit, that one Citizen fled after another,
and one neighbour had not any care of another, Parents nor kinred
neuer viſiting them, but vtterly they were forſaken on all ſides: this
tribulation pierced into the hearts of men, and with ſuch a dreadfull terrour,
that one Brother forſooke another; the Vnkle the Nephew, the Siſter
the Brother, and the Wife her Husband: nay, a matter much greater,
and almoſt incredible; Fathers and Mothers fled away from their owne
Children▪ euen as if they had no way appertained to them. In regard
whereof, it could be no otherwiſe, but that a countleſſe multitude of men
and women fell ſicke; finding no charity among their friends, except a
very few, and ſubiected to the auarice of ſeruants, who attended them
conſtrainedly, for great and vnreaſonable wages) yet few of thoſe attendants
to be found any where too. And they were men or women but of
baſe condition, as alſo of groſer vnderſtanding, who neuer before had ſerued
in any ſuch neceſſities, nor indeed were any way elſe to be imployed,
but to giue the ſicke perſon ſuch things as he called for, or to awaite the
houre of his death; in the performance of which ſeruices, oftentimes for
gaine, they loſt their owne liues.
In this extreame calamity, the ſicke being thus forſaken of neighbors,
kinred, and friends, ſtanding alſo in ſuch need of ſeruants; a cuſtome came
vp among them, neuer heard of before, that there was not any woman,
how noble, young, or faire ſoeuer ſhee was, but falling ſicke, ſhee muſt of
neceſſity haue a man to attend her, were he young or otherwiſe, reſpect
of ſhame or modeſty no way preuailing, but all parts of her body muſt
be diſcouered to him, which (in the like vrgency) was not to be ſeene by
any but women: whereon enſued afterward, that vpon the parties healing
and recouery, it was the occaſion of further diſhoneſty, which many
being more modeſtly curious of, refuſed ſuch diſgracefull attending, chuſing
rather to die, then by ſuch helpe to be healed. In regard whereof, as
well through the want of conuenient remedies, (which the ſicke by no
meanes could attain vnto) as alſo the violence of the contagion, the multitude
of them that died night and day, was ſo great, that it was a dreadfull
ſight to behold, and as much to heare ſpoken of. So that meere neceſſity
(among them that remained liuing) begat new behauiours, quite contrary
to all which had beene in former times, and frequently vſed among
the City Inhabitants.
The cuſtome of precedent dayes (as now againe it is) was, that women,
kinred, neighbours, and friends, would meete together at the deceaſed
parties houſe, and there, with them that were of neereſt alliance, expreſſe
their hearts ſorrow for their friends loſſe. If not thus, they would aſſemble
before the doore, with many of the beſt Cittizens and kindred, and
(according to the quality of the deceaſed) the Clergy met there likewiſe,
and the dead body was carried (in comely manner) on mens ſhoulders,
with funerall pompe of Torch-light, and ſinging, to the Church appointed
by the deceaſed. But theſe ſeemely orders, after that the fury of the
peſtilence began to encreaſe, they in like manner altogether ceaſed, and
other new cuſtomes came in their place; becauſe not onely people died,
without hauing any women about them, but infinites alſo paſt out of this
life, not hauing any witneſſe, how, when, or in what manner they departed.
So that few or none there were, to deliuer outward ſhew of ſorrow
and grieuing: but inſteed thereof, diuers declared idle ioy and reioycing,
a vſe ſoone learned of immodeſt women, hauing put off al feminine compaſſion,
yea, or regard of their owne welfare.
Very few alſo would accompany the body to the graue, and they not
any of the Neighbours, although it had beene an honourable Cittizen,
but onely the meaneſt kinde of people, ſuch as were graue-makers, coffin-bearers,
or the like, that did theſe ſeruices onely for money, and the beere
being mounted on their ſhoulders, in all haſte they would runne away
with it, not perhaps to the Church appointed by the dead, but to the neereſt
at hand, hauing ſome foure or ſixe poore Prieſts following, with
lights or no lights, and thoſe of the ſillieſt; ſhort ſeruice being ſaid at the
buriall, and the body vnreuerently throwne into the firſt open graue they
found. Such was the pittifull miſery of poore people, and diuers, who
were of better condition, as it was moſt lamentable to behold; becauſe
the greater number of them, vnder hope of healing, or compelled by pouerty,
kept ſtill within their houſes weake and faint, thouſands falling ſick
daily, and hauing no helpe, or being ſuccoured any way with foode or
phyſicke, all of them died, few or none eſcaping.
Great ſtore there were, that died in the ſtreetes by day or night, and
many more beſide, although they died in their houſes; yet firſt they made
it knowne to their neighbours, that their liues periſhed, rather by the
noyſome ſmell of dead and putrified bodies, then by any violence of the
diſeaſe in themſelues. So that of theſe and the reſt, dying in this manner
euery where, the neighbours obſerued one courſe of behauiour, (moued
thereto no leſſe by feare, that the ſmell and corruption of dead bodies
ſhould harme them, then charitable reſpect of the dead) that themſelues
when they could, or being aſſiſted by ſome bearers of coarſes, when they
wer able to procure thē, wold hale the bodies (alreadie dead) out of their
houſes, laying them before their doores, where ſuch as paſſed by, eſpecially
in the mornings, might ſee them lying in no meane numbers. Afterward,
Bieres were brought thither, and ſuch as might not haue the helpe
of Bieres, were glad to lay them on tables; and Bieres haue bin obſerued,
not onely to be charged with two or three dead bodies at once, but many
times it was ſeene alſo, that the wife with the husband, two or three Brethren
together; yea, the Father and the mother, haue thus beene carried
along to the graue vpon one Biere.
Moreouer, oftentimes it hath bene ſeene, that when two Prieſts went
with one Croſſe to fetch the body; there would follow (behind) three or
foure bearers with their Bieres, and when the Prieſts intended the buriall
but of one bodie, ſixe or eight more haue made vp the aduantage, and
yet none of them being attended by any ſeemly company, lights, teares,
or the very leaſt decencie, but it plainly appeared, that the verie like account
was then made of men or Women, as if they had bene Dogges or
Swine. Wherein might manifeſtly bee noted, that that which the naturall
courſe of things could not ſhewe to the wiſe, with rare and little
loſſe, to wit, the patient ſupport of miſeries and misfortunes, euen in
their greateſt height: not onely the wiſe might now learne, but alſo th
•
verie ſimpleſt people; & in ſuch ſort, that they ſhould alwaies be prepared
againſt all infelicities whatſoeuer.
Hallowed ground could not now ſuffice, for the great multitude of
dead bodies, which were daily brought to euery Church in the City, and
euery houre in the day; neither could the bodies haue proper place of
buriall, according to our ancient cuſtome: wherfore, after that the churches
and Church-yards were filled, they were conſtrained to make vſe of
great deepe ditches, wherein they were buried by hundreds at once, ranking
dead bodies along in graues, as Merchandizes are laide along in
ſhips, couering each after other with a ſmall quantity of earth, & ſo they
filled at laſt vp the whole ditch to the brim.
Now, becauſe I would wander no further in euerie particularity, concerning
the miſeries happening in our Citie: I tell you, that extremities
running on in ſuch manner as you haue heard; little leſſe ſpare was made
in the Villages round about; wherein (ſetting aſide encloſed Caſtles,
which were now filled like to ſmall Cities) poore Labourers and Huſband-men,
with their whole Families, dyed moſt miſerably in out-houſes,
yea, and in the open fieldes alſo; without any aſſiſtance of phyſicke,
or helpe of ſeruants; & likewiſe in the high-wayes, or their ploughed
landes, by day or night indifferently, yet not as men, but like brute
beaſts.
By meanes whereof, they became lazie and ſlothfull in their daily endeuours,
euen like to our Citizens; not minding or medling with their
wonted affaires: but, as awaiting for death euery houre, imployed all
their paines, not in caring any way for themſelues, their cattle, or gathering
the fruits of the earth, or any of their accuſtomed labours; but rather
waſted and conſumed, euen ſuch as were for their inſtant ſuſtenance.
Whereupon, it fell ſo out, that their Oxen, Aſſes, Sheepe, and Goates,
their Swine, Pullen, yea their verie Dogges, the trueſt and faithfulleſt ſeruants
to men, being beaten and baniſhed from their houſes, went wildly
wandring abroad in the fields, where the Corne grew ſtill on the ground
without gathering, or being ſo much as reapt or cut. Many of the foreſaid
beaſts (as endued with reaſon) after they had paſtured themſelues in
the day time, would returne full fed at night home to their houſes, without
any gouernment of Heardſmen, or any other.
How many faire Palaces! How many goodly Houſes! How many
noble habitations, filled before with families of Lords and Ladies, were
then to be ſeene emptie, without any one there dwelling, except ſome ſilly
ſeruant? How many Kindreds, worthy of memory! How many great
inheritances! And what plenty of riches, were left without any true
ſucceſſours? How many good men! How many woorthy Women!
How many valiant and comely yong men, whom none but Galen, H
•
ppocrates,
and Aeſculapius (if they were liuing) could haue bene reputed any
way vnhealthfull; were ſeene to dine at morning, with their Parents,
Friends, and familiar confederates, and went to ſup in another world
with their Predeceſſors?
It is no meane breach to my braine, to make repetition of ſo many
miſeries; wherefore, being willing to part with them as eaſily as I may:
I ſay that our Citie being in this caſe, voide of inhabitants, it came to
paſſe (as afterward I vnderſtoode by ſome of good credite) that in the
venerable Church of S. Marie la Neufue, on a Tueſday morning, there
being then no other perſon, after the hearing of diuine Seruice, in mourning
habits (as the ſeaſon required) returned thence ſeuen diſcreet yong
Gentlewomen, all allyed together, either by friendſhip, neighbor-hood,
or parentage. She among them that was moſt entred into yeares, exceeded
not eight and twenty; and the yongeſt was no leſſe then eighteene;
being of Noble deſcent, faire forme, adorned with exquiſite behauiour,
and gracious modeſty.
Their names I could report, if iuſt occaſion did not forbid it, in regard
of the occaſions following by them related, and becauſe times heereafter
ſhall not taxe them with reproofe; the lawes of pleaſure being more
ſtraited now adayes (for the matters before reucaled) then at that time
they were, not onely to their yeares, but to many much riper. Neither
will I likewiſe miniſter matter to raſh heades (ouer-readie in cenſuring
commendable life) any way to impaire the honeſtie of Ladies, by their
idle detracting ſpeeches. And therefore, to the end that what each of thē
ſaith, may be comprehended without confuſion; I purpoſe to ſtile them
by names, wholly agreeing, or (in part) conformable to their qualities.
The firſt and moſt aged, we will name Pampinea; the ſecond Fiametta;
the third Philamena; the fourth Aemilia; the fift Lauretta; the ſixt Neiphila;
and the laſt we terme (not without occaſion) Eliſſa, or Eliza. All
of them being aſſembled at a corner of the Church, not by any deliberation
formerly appointed, but meerely by accident, and ſitting as it were
in a round ring: after diuers ſighs ſeuerally deliuered, they conferred on
ſundry matters anſwerable to the ſad qualitie of the time, and vvithin a
while after, Madam Pampinea began in this manner.
Faire Ladies, you may (no doubt as well as I) haue often heard, that
no iniury is offered to any one, by ſuch as make vſe but of their owne
right. It is a thing naturall for euerie one which is borne in this World,
to aide, conſerue, and defend her life ſo long as ſhee can; and this right
hath bene ſo powerfully permitted, that although it hath ſometimes happened,
that (to defend themſelues) men haue beene ſlaine without any
offence: yet Lawes haue allowed it to be ſo, in whoſe ſolicitude lieth the
beſt liuing of all mortals. How much more honeſt and iuſt is it then for
vs, and for euery other well-diſpoſed perſon, to ſeeke for (without wronging
any) and to practiſe all remedies that wee can, for the conſeruation
of our liues? When I well conſider, what we haue heere done this morning,
and many other already paſt; remembring (withall) what likewiſe
is proper and conuenient for vs: I conceiue (as all you may do the like)
that euerie one of vs hath a due reſpect of her ſelfe, and then I meruaile
not, but rather am much amazed (knowing none of vs to be depriued of
a Womans beſt iudgement) that wee ſeeke not after ſome remedies for
our ſelues, againſt that, which euery one among vs, ought (in reaſon) to
feare.
Heere we meete and remaine (as it ſeemeth to mee) in no other manner,
then as if we would or ſhould be witneſſes, to all the dead bodies at
reſt in their graues; or elſe to liſten, when the religious Siſters here dwelling
(whoſe number now are well-neere come to be none at all) ſing Seruice
at ſuch houres as they ought to do; or elſe to acquaint all commers
hither (by our mourning habites) with the quality and quantitie of our
hearts miſeries. And when we part hence, we meete with none but dead
bodies; or ſicke perſons tranſported from one place to another; or elſe
we ſee running thorow the City (in moſt offenſiue fury) ſuch as (by authoritie
of publike Lawes) were baniſhed hence, onely for their bad and
bru
••
ſh behauiour in contempt of thoſe Lawes, becauſe now they know,
that the executors of them are dead and ſicke. And if not theſe, more lamentable
ſpectacles preſent themſelues to vs, by the baſe raſcality of the
Citie; who being fatted with our blood, tearme themſelues Graue-makers,
and in meere contemptible mockerie of vs, are mounted on horſebacke,
gallopping euerie where, reproaching vs with our loſſes and miſfortunes,
with lewd and diſhoneſt ſongs: ſo that we can hear nothing els
but ſuch and ſuch are dead, and ſuch and ſuch lie a dying; heere hands
wringing, and euerie where moſt pittifull complaining.
If we returne home to our houſes (I know not whether your caſe bee
anſwerable to mine) when I can finde none of all my Family, but onely
my poore waiting Chamber-maide; ſo great are my feares, that the verie
haire on my head declareth my amazement, and whereſoeuer I go or
ſit downe, me thinkes I ſee the ghoſtes and ſhadowes of deceaſed friends,
not with ſuch louely lookes as I was wont to behold them, but with moſt
horrid and dreadfull regards, newly ſtolne vpon them I know not how.
In theſe reſpects, both heere, elſe-where, and at home in my houſe, methinkes
I am alwaies ill, and much more (in mine owne opinion) then any
other bodie, not hauing meanes or place of retirement, as all we haue,
and none to remaine heere but onely we.
Moreouer, I haue often heard it ſaid, that in tarrying or departing, no
diſtinction is made in things honeſt or diſhoneſt; onely appetite will be
ſerued; and be they alone or in company, by day or night, they do whatſoeuer
their appetite deſireth: not ſecular perſons onely, but ſuch as are
recluſes, and ſhut vp within Monaſteries, breaking the Lawes of obedience,
and being addicted to pleaſures of the fleſh, are become laſciuious
and diſſolute, making the world beleeue, that whatſoeuer is conuenient
for other women, is no way vnbeſeeming them, as thinking in that manner
to eſcape.
If it be ſo, as manifeſtlie it maketh ſhew of it ſelfe; What do we here?
What ſtay we for? And whereon do we dreame? Why are we more reſpectleſſe
of our health, then all the reſt of the Citizens? Repute we our
ſelues leſſe precious then all the other? Or do we beleeue, that life is linked
to our bodies with ſtronger chaines, then to others, and that therefore
we ſhould not feare any thing that hath power to offend vs? Wee
erre therein, and are deceiued. What brutiſhneſſe were it in vs, if wee
ſhould vrge any ſuch beleefe? So often as wee call to minde, what, and
how many gallant yong men and women, haue beene deuoured by this
cruell peſtilence; wee may euidently obſerue a contrary argument.
Wherefore, to the end, that by being ouer-ſcrupulous and careleſſe,
we fall not into ſuch danger, whence when we would (perhaps) we cānot
recouer our ſelues by any meanes: I thinke it meete (if your iudgement
therein ſhall iumpe with mine) that all of vs as we are (at leaſt, if we will
doe as diuers before vs haue done, and yet daily endeauour to doe) ſhunning
death by the honeſt example of other, make our retreate to our
Countrey houſes, wherewith all of vs are ſufficiently furniſhed, and thereto
delight our ſelues as beſt we may, yet without tranſgreſſing (in any act)
the limits of reaſon. There ſhall we heare the pretty birds ſweetly ſinging,
ſee the hilles and plaines verdantly flouriſhing; the Corne twaning
in the field like the billowes of the Sea; infinite ſtore of goodly trees, and
the Heauens more fairely open to vs, then here we can behold them: And
although they are iuſtly diſpleaſed, yet will they not there denie vs better
beauties to gaze on, then the walles in our City (emptied of Inhabitants)
can offoord vs.
Moreouer, the Ayre is much freſh and cleere, and generally, there is
farre greater abundance of all things whatſoeuer, needefull at this time
for preſeruation of our health, and leſſe offence or molleſtation then wee
find here.
And although Countrey people die, as well as heere our Citizens
doe, the griefe notwithſtanding is ſo much the leſſe, as the houſes
and dwellers there are rare, in compariſon of them in our City. And
beſide, if we well obſerue it, here wee forſake no particular perſon, but rather
wee may tearme our ſelues forſaken; in regard that our Husbands,
Kinred, and Friends, either dying, or flying from the dead, haue left vs
alone in this great affliction, euen as if we were no way belonging vnto
them. And therefore, by following this counſell, wee cannot fall into
any reprehenſion; whereas if we neglect and refuſe it, danger, diſtreſſe,
and death, (perhaps) may enſue thereon.
Wherefore, if you thinke good, I would allow it for well done, to
take our waiting women, with all ſuch things as are needfull for vs, and
(as this day) betake our ſelues to one place, to morrow to another, taking
there ſuch pleaſure and recreation, as ſo ſweete a ſeaſon liberally
beſtoweth on vs. In which manner we may remaine, till we ſee (if death
otherwiſe preuent vs not) what ende the gracious Heauens haue reſerued
for vs. I would haue you alſo to conſider, that it is no leſſe ſeemely for
vs to part hence honeſtly, then a great number of other Women to remaine
here immodeſtly.
The other Ladies and Gentlewomen, hauing heard Madam Pampinea,
not onely commended her counſell, but deſiring alſo to put it in execution;
had already particularly conſulted with themſelues, by what means
they might inſtantly depart from thence. Neuertheleſſe, Madam Philomena,
who was very wiſe, ſpake thus.
Albeit faire Ladies, the caſe propounded by Madam Pampinea hath
beene very wel deliuered; yet (for all that) it is againſt reaſon for vs to ruſh
on, as we are ouer-ready to doe. Remember that we are all women, and
no one among vs is ſo childiſh, but may conſider, that when wee
ſhall be ſo aſſembled together, without prouidence or conduct of ſome
man, we can hardly gouerne our ſelues. We are fraile, offenſiue, ſuſpicious,
weake ſpirited, and fearefull: in regard of which imperfections, I
greatly doubt (if we haue no better direction then our owne) this ſociety
will ſooner diſſolue it ſelfe, and (perchance) with leſſe honour to vs, then
if we neuer had begunne it. And therefore it ſhall be expedient for vs,
to prouide before wee proceede any further. Madam Eliſſa hereon thus
replied.
Moſt true it is, that men are the chiefe or head of women, and without
their order, ſildome times doe any matters of ours ſort to commendable
ende. But what meanes ſhal we make for men? we all know well enough,
that the moſt part of our friends are dead, and ſuch as are liuing, ſome be
diſpearſed here, others there, into diuers places and companies, where
we haue no knowledge of their being. And to accept of ſtrangers, would
ſeeme very inconuenient; wherefore as we haue ſuch care of our health,
ſo ſhould wee be as reſpectiue (withall) in ordering our intention: that
whereſoeuer wee aime at our pleaſure and contentment, reproofe and
ſcandall may by no meanes purſue vs.
While this diſcourſe thus held among the Ladies, three young Gentlemen
came forth of the Church (yet not ſo young, but the youngeſt
had attained to fiue and twenty yeeres) in whom, neither malice of the
time, loſſe of friends or kinred, nor any fearefull conceit in themſelues,
had the power to quench affection; but (perhaps) might a little coole it,
in regard of the queazy ſeaſon. One of them called himſelfe Pamphilus,
the ſecond Philoſtratus, and the laſt Dioneus. Each of them was very affable
and well conditioned, and walked abroade (for their greater comfort
in ſuch a time of tribulation) to trie if they could meete with their faire
friends, who (happily) might all three be among theſe ſeauen, and the
reſt kinne vnto them in one degree or other. No ſooner were theſe Ladies
eſpyed by them, but they met with them alſo in the ſame aduantage;
whereupon Madam Pampinea (amiably ſmiling) ſaide.
See how graciouſly Fortune is fauourable to our beginning, by preſenting
our eyes with three ſo wiſe and worthy young Gentlemen, who
will gladly be our guides and ſeruants, if we doe not diſdaine them the office.
Madam Neiphila beganne immediatly to bluſh, becauſe one of them
had a loue in the company, and ſaide; Good Madam Pampinea take heed
what you ſay, becauſe (of mine owne knowledge) nothing can be ſpoken
but good of them all; and I thinke them all to be abſolutely ſufficient, for
a farre greater employment then is here intended: as being well worthy
to keepe company, not onely with vs, but them of more faire and precious
eſteeme then we are. But becauſe it appeareth plainely enough, that
they beare affection to ſome here among vs: I feare, if wee ſhould make
the motion, that ſome diſhonour or reproofe may enſue thereby, and yet
without blame either in vs or them. That is nothing at all, anſwered Madam
Philomena, let mee liue honeſtly, and my conſcience not checke me
with any crime; ſpeake then who can to the contrary, God and truth ſhal
enter armes for me. I wiſh that they were as willing to come, as all wee
are to bid them welcome: for truly (as Madam Pampinea ſaide) wee may
very well hope that Fortune will bee furtherous to our purpoſed iourney.
The other Ladies hearing them ſpeake in ſuch manner, not onely were
ſilent to themſelues, but all with one accord and conſent ſaide, that it were
well done to call them, and to acquaint them with their intention, entreating
their company in ſo pleaſant a voyage. Whereupon, without
any more words, Madam Pampinea mounting on her feete (becauſe one
of the three was her Kinſman) went towards the
•
, as they ſtood reſpectiuely
obſeruing them; and (with a pleaſing countenance) giuing them a
gracious ſalutation, declared to them their deliberation, deſiring (in behalfe
of all the reſt) that with a brotherly and modeſt minde, they would
vouchſafe to beare them company.
The Gentlemen imagined at the firſt apprehenſion, that this was ſpoken
in mockage of them, but when they better perceiued, that her words
tended to ſolemne earneſt; they made anſwer, that they were all heartily
ready to doe them any ſeruice. And without any further delaying, before
they parted thence, tooke order for their apteſt furniſhing withall
conuenient neceſſaries, and ſent word to the place of their firſt appointment.
On the morrow, being Wedneſday, about breake of day, the Ladies,
with certaine of their attending Gentlewomen, and the three Gentlemen,
hauing three ſeruants to waite on them; left the City to beginne
their iourney, and hauing trauelled about a leagues diſtance, arriued at
the place of their firſt purpoſe of ſtay; which was ſeated on a little hill,
diſtant (on all ſides) from any high way, plentifully ſtored with faire ſpreading
Trees, affoording no meane delight to the eye. On the top of all
ſtood a ſtately Pallace, hauing a large and ſpacious Court in the middeſt,
round engirt with galleries, hals and chambers, euery one ſeparate alone
by themſelues, and beautified with pictures of admirable cunning. Nor
was there any want of Gardens, Meadowes, and other pleaſant walkes,
with welles and ſprings of faire running waters, all encompaſſed with
branching vines, fitter for curious and quaffing bibbers, then women ſober
and ſingularly modeſt.
This Pallace the company found fully fitted and prepared, the beddes
in the Chambers made and daintily ordered, thickly ſtrewed with variety
of flowres, which could not but giue them the greater contentment. Dioneus,
who (aboue the other) was a pleaſant young gallant, and full of infinite
witty conceits, ſaide; Your wit (faire Ladies) hath better guided vs
hither, then our prouidence. I know not how you haue determined to
diſpoſe of your cares; as for mine owne, I left them at the City gate,
when I came thence with you: and therefore let your reſolution be, to
ſpend the time here in ſmiles and ſinging (I meane, as may fitteſt agree
with your dignity) or elſe giue me leaue to goe ſeeke my ſorrowes againe,
and ſo to remaine diſcontented in our deſolate City. Madam Pampinea
hauing in like manner ſhaken off her ſorrowes, deliuering a modeſt and
baſhfull ſmile, replied in this manner.
Dioneus, well haue you ſpoken, it is fit to liue merrily, and no other occaſion
made vs forſake the ſicke and ſad Citie. But, becauſe ſuch things
as are without meane or meaſure, are ſubiect to no long continuance.
I, who began the motion, whereby this ſociety is thus aſſembled, and
ayme at the long laſting thereof: doe hold it very conuenient, that wee
ſhould all agree, to haue one chiefe commaunder among vs, in whom
the care and prouidence ſhould conſiſt, for direction of our merriment,
performing honour and obedience to the party, as to our Patrone and
ſole Gouernour. And becauſe euery one may feele the burthen of ſollicitude,
as alſo the pleaſure of commaunding, and conſequently haue a
ſenſible taſte of both, whereby no enuie may ariſe on any ſide: I could
wiſh, that each one of vs (for a day onely) ſhould feele both the burthen
and honour, and the perſon ſo to be aduanced, ſhall receiue it from the
election of vs all. As for ſuch as are to ſucceede, after him or her that
hath had the dayes of dominion: the party thought fit for ſucceſſion,
muſt be named ſo ſoone as night approacheth. And being in this eminencie
(according as he or ſhe ſhall pleaſe) hee may order and diſpoſe,
how long the time of his rule ſhall laſt, as alſo of the place and manner,
where beſt we may continue our delight.
Theſe words were highly pleaſing to them all, and, by generall voyce,
Madame Pampinea was choſen Queene for the firſt day. Whereupon,
Madame Philomena ranne preſently to a Bay-tree, becauſe ſhe had often
heard, what honour belonged to thoſe branches, and how worthy of honour
they were, that rightfully were crowned with them, plucking off diuers
branches, ſhe made of them an apparant and honourable Chaplet,
placing it (by generall conſent) vpon her head, and this, ſo long as their
company continued, manifeſted to all the reſt, the ſignall of dominion
and Royall greatneſſe.
After that Madame Pampinea was thus made Queene, ſhe commanded
publique ſilence, and cauſing the Gentlemens three ſeruants, and the waiting
women alſo (being foure in number) to be brought before her, thus
ſhee began. Becauſe I am to giue the firſt example to you all, whereby
(proceeding on from good to better) our company may liue in order
and pleaſure, acceptable to all, and without ſhame to any: I create Parmeno
(ſeruant to Dioneus) Maiſter of the Houſhold, hee taking the care
and charge of all our t
•
ayne, and for whatſoeuer appertaineth to our
Hall ſeruice. I appoint alſo that Siliſco (ſeruant to Pamphilus) ſhall be
our Diſpencer and Treaſurer, performing that which Parmeno ſhall
commaund him. And that Tindaro ſerue as Groome of the Chamber, to
Philostratus his Maiſter, and the other two, when his fellowes (impeached
by their offices) cannot be preſent. Miſia my Chambermaid, and Liciſca
(belonging to Philomena) ſhall ſerue continually in the Kitchin) and diligently
make ready ſuch vyands, as ſhall be deliuered them by Parmeno▪
Chimera, wayting-woman to Lauretta, and Stratilia (appertaining to Fiammetta)
ſhall haue the charge and gouernement of the Ladies Chambers,
and preparing all places where we ſhall be preſent. Moreouer, we
will and commaund euery one of them (as they deſire to deſerue our
grace) that whereſoeuer they goe or come, or whatſoeuer they heare or
ſee: they eſpecially reſpect to bring vs tydings of them. After ſhee had
ſummarily deliuered them theſe orders, very much commended of euery
one; ſhee aroſe fearefully, ſaying. Heere wee haue Gardens, Orchards,
Meadowes, and other places of ſufficient pleaſure, where euery one may
ſport & recreate themſelues: but ſo ſoone as the ninth houre ſtriketh, then
all to meete here againe, to dine in the coole ſhade.
This iocund company hauing receiued licence from their Queene to
diſport themſelues, the Gentlemen walked with the Ladies into a goodly
Garden, making Chaplets and Noſegayes of diuers flowers, and ſinging
ſilently to themſelues. When they had ſpent the time limitted by the
Queene, they returned into the houſe, where they found that Parmeno
had effectually executed his office. For, when they entred into the Hall,
they ſaw the Tables couered with delicate white naperie, and the Glaſſes
looking like ſiluer, they were ſo tranſparantly cleare, all the roome beſide
ſtreamed with flames of Iuniper. When the Queene and all the reſt had
waſhed; according as Parmeno gaue order, ſo euery one was ſeated at the
Table: the vyands (delicately dreſt) were ſerued in, and excellent wines
plentifully deliuered, none attending but the three ſeruants, and little or
no loud table-talke paſſing among them.
Dinner being ended, and the tables withdrawne (all the Ladies, and
the Gentlemen likewiſe, being skilfull both in ſinging and dauncing, and
playing on inſtruments artificially) the Queene commaunded, that diuers
inſtruments ſhould be brought, and (as ſhe gaue charge) Dioneus tooke a
Lute, and Fiammetta a Violl de gamba, and began to play an excellent
daunce. Whereupon the Queene, with the reſt of the Ladies, and the
other two young Gentlemen (hauing ſent their attending ſeruants to
dinner) paced foorth a daunce very maieſtically. And when the daunce
was ended, they ſung ſundry excellent Canzonets, out-wearing ſo the
time, vntill the Queene commaunded them all to reſt, becauſe the houre
did neceſſarily require it. The Gentlemen hauing their Chambers farre
ſeuered from the Ladies, curiouſly ſtrewed with flowers, and their beds
adorned in exquiſite manner, as thoſe of the Ladies were not a iote inferiour
to them: the ſilence of the night beſtowed ſweet reſt on them all.
In the morning, the Queene and all the reſt being riſen, accounting ouermuch
ſleepe to be very hurtfull: they walked abroade into a goodly Meadowe,
where the graſſe grew verdantly, and the beames of the Sunne
heated not ouer-violently, becauſe the ſhades of faire ſpreading trees
gaue a temperate calmeneſſe, coole and gentle winds fanning their ſweet
breath pleaſingly among them. All of them being there ſet downe in a
round ring, and the Queene in the middeſt, as being the appointed place
of eminencie, ſhe ſpake in this manner.
You ſee (faire company) that the Sunne is highly mounted, the heate
(elſe-where) too extreme for vs, and therfore here is our fitteſt refuge, the
aire being ſo coole, delicate, and acceptable, and our folly well worthie
reprehenſion, if we ſhould walke further, and ſpeede worſe. Heere are
Tables, Cards, and Cheſſe, as your diſpoſitions may be addicted. But
if mine aduice might paſſe for currant, I would admit none of thoſe exerciſes,
becauſe they are too troubleſome both to them that play, and
ſuch as looke on. I could rather wiſh, that ſome quaint diſcourſe might
paſſe among vs, a tale or fable related by ſome one, to vrge the attention
of all the reſt. And ſo wearing out the warmth of the day, one prety Nouell
wil draw on another, vntil the Sun be lower declined, and the heates
extremity more diminiſhed, to ſolace our ſelues in ſome other place, as
to our minds ſhal ſeeme conuenient. If therefore what I haue ſayde be
acceptable to you (I purpoſing to follow in the ſame courſe of pleaſure,)
let it appeare by your immediate anſwer; for, til the Euening, I think we
can deuiſe no exerciſe more commodious for vs.
The Ladies & Gentlemen allowed of the motion, to ſpend the time
in telling pleaſant tales; whereupon the Queene ſaide: Seeing you haue
approoued mine aduice, I grant free permiſſion for this firſt day, that euery
one ſhall relate, what to him or her is beſt pleaſing. And turning
her ſelfe to Pamphilus (who was ſeated on her right hand) gaue him fauour,
with one of his Nouels, to begin the recreation: which he not daring
to deny, and perceiuing generall attention prepared for him, thus
he began.
Meſsire Chappelet du Prat, by making a falſe confeſsion, beguyled an holy Religious man, and after dyed. And hauing (during his life time) bene a verie bad man, at his death was reputed to be a Saint, and called S. Chappelet.
The firſt Nouell.
Wherein is contained, how hard a thing it is, to distinguiſh goodneſſe from hypocriſie; and how (vnder the ſhadow of holineſſe) the wickednes of one man, may deceiue many.
IT is a matter moſt conuenient (deare Ladies) that a man
ought to begin whatſoeuer he doth, in the great and glorious
name of him, who was the Creator of all thinges.
Wherefore, ſeeing that I am the man appointed, to begin
this your inuention of diſcourſing Nouelties: I intend
to begin alſo with one of his wonderfull workes. To
the end, that this beeing heard, our hope may remaine on him, as the
thing onely permanent, and his name for euer to be praiſed by vs. Now,
as there is nothing more certaine, but that euen as temporall things are
mortall and tranſitory, ſo are they both in and out of themſelues, full of
ſorrow, paine, and anguiſh, and ſubiected to infinite dangers: So in the
ſame manner, we liue mingled among them, ſeeming as part of them,
and cannot (without ſome error) continue or defend our ſelues, if God
by his eſpeciall grace and fauour, giue vs not ſtrength and good vnderſtanding.
Which power we may not beleeue, that either it deſcendeth
to vs, or liueth in vs, by any merites of our owne; but of his onely moſt
gracious benignity. Mooued neuertheleſſe, and entreated by the interceſſions
of them, who were (as we are) mortals; and hauing diligently
obſerued his commandements, are now with him in eternall bleſſednes.
To whom (as to aduocates and procurators, informed by the experience
of our frailty) wee are not to preſent our prayers in the preſence of
ſo great a Iudge; but only to himſelfe, for the obtaining of all ſuch things
as his wiſedome knoweth to be moſt expedient for vs. And well may we
credit, that his goodneſſe is more fully enclined towards vs, in his continuall
bounty and liberality; then the ſubtilty of any mortal eye, can reach
into the ſecret of ſo diuine a thought: and ſometimes therefore we may
be beguiled in opinion, by electing ſuch and ſuch as our interceſſors before
his high Maieſty, who perhaps are farre off from him, or driuen into
perpetuall exile, as vnworthy to appeare in ſo glorious a preſence. For
he, from whom nothing can be hidden, more regardeth the ſincerity of
him that prayeth, then ignorant deuotion, committed to the truſt of a
heedleſſe interceſſor; and ſuch prayers haue alwaies gracious acceptation
in his ſight. As manifeſtly will appeare, by the Nouell which I intend
to relate; manifeſtly (I ſay) not as in the iudgement of God, but according
to the ahprehenſion of men.
There was one
named, Muſciatto
Franceſi, who from
beeing a moſt rich
and great merchant
in France, was become
a Knight, and
preparing to go into
Tuſcany, with
Monſieur Charles
without Land, Brother
to the King of
France (who vvas
deſired and incited
to come thither by
Pope Boniface) foūd
his affaires greatly
intricated here and
there (as oftentimes the matters of Merchants fall out to bee) and that
very hardly hee ſhould ſodainly vnintangle them, without referring the
charge of them to diuers perſons. And for all he tooke indifferent good
order, onely he remained doubtfull, whom he might ſufficiently leaue, to
recouer his debts among many Burgundians. And the rather was his care
the more herein, becauſe he knew the Burgundians to be people of badde
nature, rioters, brablers, full of calumny, and without any faithfulneſſe:
ſo that he could not bethinke himſelfe of any man (how wicked ſoeuer he
was) in whom he might repoſe truſt to meete with their lewdneſſe. Hauing
a long while examined his thoughts vpon this point, at laſt hee remembred
one maſter Chappelet du Prat, who ofttimes had reſorted to his
houſe in Paris. And becauſe he was a man of little ſtature, yet handſom
enough, the French not knowing what this word Chappelet might mean,
eſteeming he ſhould be called rather (in their tongue) Chappell; imagined,
that in regard of his ſmall ſtature, they termed him Chappelet, and
not Chappell, and ſo by the name of Chappelet he was euery where known,
and by few or none acknowledged for Chappel.
This maſter Chappelet, was of ſo good and commendable life; that,
being a Notarie, he held it in high diſdaine, that any of his Contractes
(although he made but few) ſhould be found without falſhoode. And
looke how many ſoeuer hee dealt withall, he would be vrged and required
thereto, offering them his paines and trauaile for nothing, but to be
requited otherwiſe then by money; which prooued to bee his much larger
recompencing, and returned to him the farre greater benefit. Hee
tooke the onely pleaſure of the world, to beare falſe witneſſe, if hee were
thereto entreated, and (oftentimes) when hee was not requeſted at all.
Likewiſe, becauſe in thoſe times, great truſt and beleefe was giuen to an
oath, he making no care or conſcience to be periured: greatly aduantaged
himſelfe by Law ſuites, in regard that many matters relyed vpon his
oath, and deliuering the truth according to his knowledge.
He delighted (beyond meaſure) and addicted his beſt ſtudies, to cauſe
enmities & ſcandals between kindred and friends, or any other perſons,
agreeing well together; and the more miſchiefe he could procure in this
kind, ſo much the more pleaſure and delight tooke he therein. If he were
called to kil any one, or to do any other villanous deede, he neuer would
make deniall, but go to it very willingly; and diuers times it was wel knowen,
that many were cruelly beaten, ye ſlainc by his hands. Hee was a
moſt horrible blaſphemer of God and his Saints, vpon the very leaſt occaſion,
as being more addicted to choller, then any other man could be.
Neuer would he frequent the Church, but baſely contemned it, with the
Sacraments and religious rites therein adminiſtred, accounting them for
vile and vnprofitable things: but very voluntarily would viſit Tauernes,
and other places of diſhoneſt acceſſe, which were continually pleaſing
vnto him, to ſatisfie his luſt and inordinate lubricitie. Hee would ſteale
both in publike and priuate, euen with ſuch a conſcience, as if it were giuen
to him by nature ſo to do. He was a great glutton and a drunkarde,
euen till he was not able to take any more: being alſo a continuall gameſter,
and carrier of falſe Dice, to cheate with them the verie beſt Friendes
he had.
But why do I waſte time in ſuch extent of words? When it may ſuffice
to ſay, that neuer was there a worſe man borne; whoſe wickedneſſe
was for long time ſupported, by the fauour, power, and Authoritie
of Monſieur Muſciatto, for whoſe ſ
•
ke many wrongs and iniuries were
patiently endured, as well by priuate perſons (whom hee would abuſe
notoriouſly) as others of the Court, beeweene whom he made no difference
at all in his vile dealing. This Maſter Chappelet, being thus remembred
by Muſciatto (who very well knew his life and behauiour) he perfectly
perſwaded himſelfe, that this was a man apt in all reſpects, to meete
with the treachery of the Burgundians: whereupon, hauing ſent for him,
thus he beganne.
Chappelet, thou knoweſt how I am wholly to retreate my ſelfe from
hence, and hauing ſome affaires among the Burgundians, men full of
wickedneſſe and deceite; I can bethinke my ſelfe of no meeter a man then
Chappelet, to recouer ſuch debts as are due to me among them. And becauſe
it falleth out ſo well, that thou art not now hindered by any other
buſineſſe; if thou wilt vndergoe this office for me, I will procure thee fauourable
Letters from the Court, and giue thee a reaſonable portion in
all thou recouereſt. Maſter Chappelet, ſeeing himſelfe idle, and greedy
after worldly goods, conſidering that Mounſieur Muſciatto (who had
beene alwayes his beſt buckler) was now to depart from thence, without
any dreaming on the matter, and conſtrained thereto (as it were) by neceſſity,
ſet downe his reſolution, and anſwered that hee would gladly
doe it.
Hauing made their agreement together, and receiued from Muſciatto
his expreſſe procuration, as alſo the Kings gracious Letters; after that
Muſciatto was gone on his iourney,To Borgogna ſaith the Italian. Maſter Chappelet went to Dijon, where
he was vnknowne (well neere) of any. And there (quite from his naturall
diſpoſition) he beganne benignely and graciouſly, in recouering the debts
due; which courſe he tooke the rather, becauſe they ſhould haue a further
feeling of him in the ende. Being lodged in the houſe of two Florentine
brethren, that liued on their monies vſance; and (for Mounſieur Muſciattoes
ſake) vſing him with honour and reſpect: It fortuned that he fell ſicke,
and the two brethren ſent for Phyſicions to attend him, allowing their
ſeruants to be diligent about him, making no ſpare of any thing, which
gaue the beſt likelyhood of reſtoring his health. But all their paines proued
to no purpoſe, becauſe he (honeſt man) being now growne aged, and
hauing liued all his life time very diſordredly, fell day by day (according
to the Phyſicions iudgement) from bad to worſe, as no other way appeared
but death, whereat the brethren greatly greeued.
Vpon a day, neere to the Chamber where the ſicke man lay, they entred
into this communication. What ſhall we doe (quoth the one to the
other) with this man? We are much hindered by him; for to ſend him away
(ſicke as he is) we ſhall be greatly blamed thereby, and it will be a manifeſt
note of our weake wiſedome: the people knowing that firſt of all
we gaue him entertainement, and haue allowed him honeſt phyſical attendance,
and he not hauing any way iniuried or offended vs, to let him
be ſuddenly expulſed our houſe (ſicke to death as he is) it can be no way
for our credit.
On the other ſide, we are to conſider alſo, that he hath bin ſo badde a
man, as he will not now make any confeſſion thereof, neither receiue the
bleſſed Sacrament of the Church, and dying ſo without confeſſion;
there is no Church that wil accept his body, but it muſt be buried in prophane
ground, like to a Dogge. And yet if he would confeſſe himſelfe,
his ſinnes are ſo many and monſtrous; as the like caſe alſo may happen,
becauſe there is not any Prieſt or Religious perſon, that can or will abſolue
him. And being not abſolued, he muſt be caſt into ſome ditch or
pit, and then the people of the Towne, as well in regard of the account
we carry heere, (which to them appeareth ſo little pleaſing, as we are daily
purſued with their worſt words) as alſo coueting our ſpoile and ouerthrow;
vpon this accident will cry out and mutiny againſt vs; Beholde
theſe Lombard dogs, which are not to be receiued into the Church, why ſhould
we ſuffer them to liue heere among vs? In furious madneſſe wil they come
vpon vs, and our houſe, where (peraduenture) not contented with robbing
vs of our goods, our liues will remaine in their mercy and danger;
ſo that, in what ſort ſoeuer it happen, this mans dying heere, muſt needs
be banefull to vs.
Maſter Chappelet, who (as we haue formerly ſaide) was lodged neere to
the place where they thus conferred, hauing a ſubtle attention (as oftentimes
we ſee ſicke perſons to bee poſſeſſed withall) heard all theſe ſpeeches
ſpoken of him, and cauſing them to be called vnto him, thus hee
ſpake.
I would not haue you to be any way doubtfull of me; neither that you
ſhold receiue the leaſt damage by me: I haue heard what you haue ſaid,
and am certaine, that it will happen according to your words, if matters
ſhould fall out as you conceite; but I am minded to deale otherwiſe. I
haue committed ſo many offences againſt our Lord God, in the vvhole
current of my life; that now I intend one action at the hour of my death,
which I truſt will make amends for all. Procure therefore, I pray you,
that the moſt holy and religious man that is to be found (if there bee any
one at all) may come vnto me, and referre the caſe then to me, for I will
deale in ſuch ſort for you and my ſelfe, that all ſhall be well, and you no
way diſcontented.
The two Brethren, although they had no great hope in his ſpeeches,
went yet to a Monaſtery of Gray-Friars, and requeſted; that ſome one
holy and learned man, might come to heare the confeſſion of a Lombard,
that lay verie weake and ſicke in their houſe. And one was granted vnto
them, beeing an aged religious Frier, a great read maſter in the ſacred
Scriptures, a very venerable perſon, who beeing of good and ſanctified
life, all the Citizens held him in great reſpect & eſteem, and on he went
with thē to their houſe. When he was come vp into the Chamber wher
Maſter Chappelet lay, and being there ſeated downe by him; he beganne
firſt to comfort him very louingly, demanding alſo of him, howe many
times he had bin at confeſſion? Whereto maſter Chappelet (who neuer
had bin ſhriuen in all his life time) thus replied.
Holy Father, I alwayes vſed (as a common cuſtome) to bee confeſſed
once (at the leaſt) euery weeke, albeit ſometimes much more often) but
true it is, that being faln into this ſickneſſe, now eight dayes ſince; I haue
not bene confeſt, ſo violent hath bene the extremity of my weakneſſe.
My ſonne (anſwered the good old man) thou haſt done well, and ſo keep
thee ſtill hereafter in that minde: but I plainly perceiue, ſeeing thou haſt
ſo often confeſſed thy ſelfe, that I ſhall take the leſſe labour in vrging
queſtions to thee.
Maſter Chappelet replied: Say not ſo good Father, for albeit I haue
bene ſo oftentimes confeſſed, yet am I willing now to make a generall
confeſſion, euen of all ſinnes comming to my remembrance, from the
very day of my birth, vntil this inſtant houre of my ſhrift. And therefore
I intreate you (holy Father) to make a particular demand of euery thing,
euen as if I had neuer bene confeſſed at al, and to make no reſpect of my
ſickneſſe: for I had rather be offenſiue to mine owne fleſh, then by fauoring
or allowing it eaſe, to hazard the perdition of my ſoule, which my
Redeemer bought with ſo precious a price.
Theſe words were highly pleaſing to the holy Frier, and ſeemed to
him as an argument of a good conſcience: Wherefore, after hee had
much commended this forwardneſſe in him, he began to demand of him
if he had neuer offended with any Woman? Whereunto maſter Chappelet
(breathing foorth a great ſigh) anſwered.
Holy Father, I am halfe aſhamed to tell you the truth in this caſe, as
fearing leaſt I ſhould ſinne in vaine-glory. Whereto the Confeſſor replyed:
Speake boldly Sonne, and feare not; for in telling the truth, be it
in confeſſion or otherwiſe, a man can neuer ſinne. Then ſayde Maiſter
Chappelet, Father, ſeeing you giue me ſo good an aſſurance, I wil reſolue
you faithfully heerein. I am ſo true a Virgin-man in this matter, euen as
when I iſſued forth of my Mothers wombe. O Sonne (quoth the Frier)
how happie and bleſſed of God art thou? Well haſt thou liued, and
therein haſt not meanly merited: hauing hadde ſo much libertie to doo
the contrary if thou wouldſt, wherein very few of vs can ſo anſwer for our
ſelues.
Afterward, he demanded of him, how much diſpleaſing to God hee
had beene in the ſinne of Gluttony? When (ſighing againe greatly) he
anſwered: Too much, and too often, good Father. For, ouer and beſide
the Faſts of our Lent ſeaſon, which euerie yeare ought to bee dulie
obſerued by deuout people, I brought my ſelfe to ſuch a cuſtomarie vſe,
that I could faſt three dayes in euery Weeke, with Bread and Water.
But indeede (holy Father) I confeſſe, that I haue drunke water with ſuch
a pleaſing appetite and delight (eſpecially in praying, or walking on pilgrimages)
euen as greedy drunkards do, in drinking good Wine. And
many times I haue deſired ſuch Sallades of ſmall hearbes, as Women
gather abroad in the open fields, and feeding onely vpon them, without
coueting after any other kinde of ſuſtenance; hath ſeemed much more
pleaſing to me, then I thought to agree with the nature of Faſting, eſpecially,
when as it ſwerueth from deuotion, or is not done as it ought to
bee.
Sonne, Sonne, replied the Confeſſour, theſe ſinnes are naturall, and
very light, and therefore I would not haue thee to charge thy conſcience
with them, more then is needfull. It happeneth to euery man (how holy
ſoeuer he be) that after he hath faſted ouer-long, feeding will be welcome
to him, and drinking good drinke after his trauaile. O Sir (ſaid Maiſter
Chappelet) neuer tell me this to comfort me, for well you know, and I am
not ignorant therein, that ſuch things as are done for the ſeruice of God,
ought all to be performed purely, and without any blemiſh of the minde;
what otherwiſe is done, ſauoureth of ſinne. The Friar being well contented
with his words, ſaid: It is not amiſſe that thou vnderſtandeſt it in
this manner, and thy conſcience thus purely cleared, is no little comfort
to me. But tell me now concerning Auarice, haſt thou ſinned therein?
by deſiring more then was reaſonable, or withholding from others, ſuch
things as thou oughtſt not to detaine? whereto Maiſter Chappelet anſwered.
Good Father, I would not haue you to imagine, becauſe you ſee
me lodged here in the houſe of two vſurers, that therefore I am of any
ſuch diſpoſition. No truly Sir, I came hither to no other end, but onely
to chaſtiſe and admoniſh them in friendly manner, to cleanſe their mindes
from ſuch abhominable profit: And aſſuredly, I ſhould haue preuailed
therein, had not this violently ſickneſſe hindered mine intention. But
vnderſtand (holy Father) that my parents left me a rich man, and immediatly
after my fathers death, the greater part of his goods I gaue away
for Gods ſake, and then, to ſuſtaine mine ownelife, and to helpe the poore
members of Ieſus Chriſt, I betooke my ſelfe to a meane eſtate of Merchandiſe,
deſiring none other then honeſt gaine thereby, and euermore
whatſoeuer benefit came to me; I imparted halfe thereof to the poore,
conuerting mine owne ſmall portion about my neceſſary affaires, which
that other part would ſcarſely ſerue to ſupply: yet alwayes God gaue
thereto ſuch a mercifull bleſſing, that my buſineſſe dayly thriued more
and more, ariſing ſtill from good to better.
Well haſt thou done therein good Sonne, ſaid the Confeſſour: but
how often times haſt thou beene angry? Oh Sir (ſaid Maiſter Chappelet)
therein I aſſure yee, I haue often tranſgreſſed. And what man is able to
forbeare it, beholding the dayly actions of men to be ſo diſhoneſt? No
care of keeping Gods commaundements, nor any feare of his dreadfull
iudgements. Many times in a day, I haue rather wiſhed my ſelfe dead
then liuing, beholding youth purſuing idle vanities, to ſweare and forſweare
themſelues, tipling in Tauernes, and neuer haunting Churches;
but rather affecting the worlds follies, then any ſuch duties as they owe
to God. Alas Sonne (quoth the Friar) this is a good and holy anger, and
I can impoſe no penance on thee for it. But tell me, hath not rage or furie
at any time ſo ouer-ruled thee, as to commit murther or manſlaughter,
or to ſpeake euill of any man, or to doe any other ſuch kinde of iniurie?
Oh Father (anſwered Maiſter Chappelet) you that ſeeme to be a man
of God, how dare you vſe any ſuch vile words? If I had had the very leaſt
thought, to doe any ſuch act as you ſpeake, doe you thinke that God
would haue ſuffered me to liue? Theſe are deedes of darkneſſe, fit for villaines
and wicked liuers, of which helliſh crue, when at any time I haue
happened to meete with ſome one of them; I haue ſaid, Goe, God conuert
thee.
Worthy, and charitable words, replied the Friar; but tell me Sonne,
Didſt thou euer beare falſe witneſſe againſt any man, or haſt ſpoken falſly,
or taken ought from any one, contrary to the will of the owner? Yes indeede
Father, ſaid Maiſter Chappelet, I haue ſpoken ill of another, becauſe
I haue ſometime ſeene one of my neighbours, who with no meane ſhame
of the world, would doe nothing elſe but beate his wife: and of him once
I complained to the poore mans parents, ſaying, that he neuer did it, but
when he was ouercome with drinke. Thoſe were no ill words, quoth the
Friar; but I remember, you ſaid that you were a Merchant: Did you euer
deceiue any, as ſome Merchants vſe to doe? Truly Father, anſwered
Maiſter Chappelet, I thinke not any, except one man, who one day brought
me money which he owed me, for a certaine piece of cloath I ſolde him,
and I put it into a purſe without accounting it: about a moneth afterward,
I found that there were foure ſmall pence more then was due to
me. And neuer happening to meete with the man againe, after I had
kept them the ſpace of a whole yeare, I then gaue them away to foure
poore people for Gods ſake.
A ſmall matter, ſaid the Friar, & truly payed back again to the owner,
in beſtowing them vpon the poore. Many other queſtions hee demaunded
of him, whereto ſtill he anſwered in the ſame manner: but before he
proceeded to abſolution, Maiſter Chappelet ſpake thus. I haue yet one
ſinne more, which I haue not reuealed to you: when being vrged by the
Friar to confeſſe it, he ſaid. I remember, that I ſhould afford one day in
the weeke, to cleanſe the houſe of my ſoule, for better entertainement
to my Lord and Sauiour, and yet I haue done no ſuch reuerence to the
Sunday or Sabaoth, as I ought to haue done. A ſmall fault Sonne,
replied the Friar. O no (quoth Maiſter Chappelet) doe not terme it a ſmall
fault, becauſe Sunday being a holy day, is highly to be reuerenced: for,
as on that day, our bleſſed Lord aroſe from death to life. But (quoth the
Confeſſour) haſt thou done nothing elſe on that day? Yes, ſaid he, being
forgetfull of my ſelfe, once I did ſpet in Gods Church. The Friar ſmiling,
ſaid: Alas Sonne, that is a matter of no moment, for wee that are
Religious perſons, doe vſe to ſpet there euery day. The more is your
ſhame, anſwered Maiſter Chappelet, for no place ought to be kept more
pure and cleane then the ſacred Temple, wherein our dayly ſacrifices are
offered vp to God,
In this manner he held on an houre and more, vttering the like tranſgreſſions
as theſe; and at laſt began to ſigh very paſſionately, and to ſhed
a few teares, as one that was skilfull enough in ſuch diſſembling prankes;
whereat the Confeſſour being much mooued, ſaid: Alas Sonne, what
ayleſt thou? Oh Father (quoth Chappelet) there remaineth yet one ſinne
more vpon my conſcience, whereof I neuer at any time made confeſſion,
ſo ſhamefull it appeareth to me to diſcloſe it; and I am partly perſwaded,
that God will neuer pardon me for that ſinne. How now Sonne? ſaid the
Friar, neuer ſay ſo; for if all the ſinnes that euer were committed by men,
or ſhall be committed ſo long as the World endureth, were onely in one
man, and he repenting them, and being ſo contrite for them, as I ſee thou
art; the grace and mercy of God is ſo great, that vpon penitent confeſſion,
he will freely pardon him, and therefore ſpare not to ſpeak it boldly.
Alas Father (ſaid Chappelet, ſtill in pretended weeping) this ſinne of mine
is ſo great, that I can hardly beleeue (if your earneſt prayers doe not aſſiſt
me) that euer I ſhall obtaine remiſſion for it. Speake it Sonne, ſaid the
Friar, and feare not, I promiſe that I will pray to God for thee.
Maſter Chappelet ſtill wept and ſighed, and continued ſilent, notwithſtanding
all the Confeſſors comfortable perſwaſions; but after hee had
helde him a long while in ſuſpence, breathing forth a ſighe, euen as if his
very heart would haue broken, he ſaide; Holy Father, ſeeing you promiſe
to pray to God for me, I will reueale it to you: Know then, that when I
was a little boy, I did once curſe my Mother; which he had no ſooner ſpoken,
but he wrung his hands, and greeued extraordinarily. Oh good Son,
ſaide the Friar, doth that ſeeme ſo great a ſinne to thee? Why, men doe
daily blaſpheme our Lord God, and yet neuertheleſſe, vpon their hearty
repentance, he is alwayes ready to forgiue them; and wilt not thou beleeue
to obtaine remiſſion, for a ſinne ſo ignorantly committed? Weepe
no more deare Sonne, but comfort thy ſelfe, and reſt reſolued, that if thou
wert one of them, who nayled our bleſſed Sauiour to his Croſſe; yet being
ſo truly repentant, as I ſee thou art, he would freely forgiue thee. Say
you ſo Father? quoth Chappelet. What? mine owne deare Mother? that
bare me in her wombe nine moneths, day and night, and afterwards fed
me with her breaſts a thouſand times, can I be pardoned for curſing her?
Oh no, it is too haynous a ſinne, and except you pray to God very inſtantly
for me, he will not forgiue me.
When the religious man perceiued, that nothing more was to be
confeſſed by Maſter Chappelet; he gaue him abſolution, and his owne benediction
beſide, reputing him to be a moſt holy man, as verily beleeuing
all that he had ſaid. And who would not haue done the like, hearing
a man to ſpeake in that manner, and being vpon the very point of death?
Afterward, he ſaide vnto him; Maſter Chappelet, by Gods grace you may
be ſoone reſtored to health, but if it ſo come to paſſe, that God doe take
your bleſſed and well diſpoſed ſoule to his mercy, will it pleaſe you to
haue your body buried in our Conuent? Whereto Maſter Chappelet anſwered;
I thanke you Father for your good motion, and ſorry ſhould I
be, if my friends did bury me any where elſe, becauſe you haue promiſed,
to pray to God for me; and beſide, I haue alwayes carried a religious deuotion
to your Order. Wherefore, I beſeech you, ſo ſoone as you are
come home to your Conuent, preuaile ſo much by your good meanes,
that the holy Euchariſt, conſecrated this morning on your high Altar,
may be brought vnto me: for although I confeſſe my ſelfe vtterly vnworthy,
yet I purpoſe (by your reuerend permiſſion) to receiue it, as alſo
your holy and lateſt vnction; to this ende, that hauing liued a greeuous
ſinner, I may yet (at the laſt) die a Chriſtian. Theſe words were pleaſing
to the good olde man, and he cauſed euery thing to be performed, according
as Maſter Chappelet had requeſted.
The two Brethren, who much doubted the diſſembling of Chappelet,
being both in a ſmall partition, which ſundered the ſicke mans Chamber
from theirs, heard and vnderſtood the paſſage of all, betweene him and
the ghoſtly Father, being many times ſcarcely able to refrain from laughter,
at the fraudulent courſe of his confeſſion. And often they ſaid within
themſelues; what manner of man is this, whom neither age, ſickneſſe,
nor terror of death ſo neere approaching, and ſenſible to his owne ſoule,
nor that which is much more, God, before whoſe iudgement he knowes
not how ſoone he ſhall appeare, or elſe be ſent to a more fearefull place;
none of theſe can alter his wicked diſpoſition, but that he will needes die
according as he hath liued? Notwithſtanding, ſeeing he had ſo ordered
the matter, that he had burial freely allowed him, they cared for no more.
After that Chappelet had receiued the Communion, and the other ceremonies
appointed for him; weakneſſe encreaſing on him more and
more, the very ſame day of his goodly confeſſion, he died (not long after)
towards the euening. Whereupon the two Brethren tooke order, that
all needefull things ſhould be in a readineſſe, to haue him buried honourably;
ſending to acquaint the Fathers of the Conuent therewith, that
they might come to ſay their Nigilles, according to precedent cuſtome,
and then on the morrow to fetch the body. The honeſt Friar that had
confeſſed him, hearing he was dead, went to the Prior of the Conuent,
and by ſound of the houſe Bell, cauſed all the Brethren to aſſemble together,
giuing them credibly to vnderſtand, that Maſter Chappelet was a very
holy man, as appeared by all the parts of his confeſſion, and made no
doubt, but that many miracles would be wrought by his ſanctified body,
perſwading them to fetch it thither with all deuoute ſolemnity and reuerence;
whereto the Prior, and all the credulous Brethren preſently condiſcended
very gladly.
When night was come, they went all to viſit the dead body of Maſter
Chappelet, where they vſed an eſpeciall and ſolemne Nigill; and on the
morrow, apparrelled in their richeſt Coapes and Veſtiments, with books
in their hands, and the Croſſe borne before them, ſinging in the forme
of a very deuoute proceſſion, they brought the body pompeouſly into
their Church, accompanied with all the people of the Towne, both men
and women. The Father Confeſſor, aſcending vp into the Pulpit, preached
wonderfull things of him, and the rare holineſſe of his life; his faſtes,
his virginity, ſimplicity, innocency, and true ſanctity, recounting alſo
(among other eſpeciall obſeruations) what Chappelet had confeſſed, as
this moſt great and greeuous ſinne, and how hardly he could be perſwaded,
that God would grant him pardon for it. Wherby he tooke occaſion
to reproue the people then preſent, ſaying; And you (accurſed of God) for
verie leaſt and trifling matter hapning, will not ſpare to blaſpheme God,
his bleſſed Mother, and the whole Court of heauenly Paradiſe: Oh, take
example by this ſingular man, this Saint-like man, nay, a verie Saint indeede.
Many additions more he made, concerning his faithfulneſſe, truth, &
integrity; ſo that, by the vehement aſſeueration of his words (wherto all
the people there preſent gaue credible beleefe) he prouoked them vnto
ſuch zeale and earneſt deuotion; that the Sermon was no ſooner ended,
but (in mighty crowds and throngs) they preſſed about the Biere, kiſſing
his hands and feete, and all the garments about him were torne in peeces,
as precious Reliques of ſo holy a perſon, and happy they thought
themſelues, that could get the ſmalleſt peece or ſhred of anie thing that
came neere to his body, and thus they continued all the day, the body lying
ſtill open, to be viſited in this manner.
When night was come, they buried him in a goodly Marble tombe,
erected in a faire Chappell purpoſely; and for many dayes after following,
it was moſt ſtrange to ſee, how the people of the country came thither
on heapes, with holy Candles and other offerings, with Images of
waxe faſtened to the Tombe, in ſigne of Sacred and ſolemne Vowes, to
this new created Saint. And ſo farre was ſpread the fame and renowne
of his ſanctity, deuotion, and integrity of life, maintained conſtantly by
the Fathers of the Conuent; that if any one fell ſicke in neede, diſtreſſe,
or aduerſity, they would make their Vowes to no other Saint but him:
naming him (as yet to this day they do) Saint Chappelet, affirming vpon
their Oathes, that infinite miracles were there daily performed by him,
and eſpecially on ſuch, as came in deuotion to viſit his ſhrine.
In this manner liued and died Maſter Chappelet du Prat, who before he
became a Saint, was as you haue heard: and I will not deny it to be impoſſible,
but that he may be at reſt among other bleſſed bodies. For, although
he liued lewdly and wickedly, yet ſuch might be his contrition in
the lateſt extreamity, that (queſtionleſſe) he might finde mercie. But,
becauſe ſuch things remaine vnknowne to vs, and ſpeaking by outwarde
appearance, vulgar iudgement will cenſure otherwiſe of him, and thinke
him to be rather in perdition, then in ſo bleſſed a place as Paradice. But
referring that to the Omnipotent appointment, whoſe clemencie hath
alwayes beene ſo great to vs, that he regards not our errors, but the integrity
of our Faith, making (by meanes of our continuall Mediator) of
an open enemy, a conuerted ſonne and ſeruant. And as I began in his
name, ſo will I conclude, deſiring that it may euermore be had in due reuerence,
and referre we our ſelues thereto in all our neceſſities, with this
ſetled aſſurance, that he is alwayes readie to heare vs. And ſo he ceaſed.
Abraham a Iew, being admoniſhed or aduiſed by a friend of his, named Iehannot de Cheuigny, trauailed from Paris vnto Rome: And beholding there the wicked behauiour of men in the Church, returned backe to Paris again, where yet (neuertheleſſe) he became a Christian.
The Second Nouell.
Wherein is contained and expreſſed, the liberality and goodneſſe of God, extended to the Christian Faith.
THE Nouell recited by Pamphilus, was highly pleaſing to the company,
and much commended by the Ladies: and after it had beene
diligently obſerued among them, the Queen commanded Madam Neiphila
(who was ſeated neereſt to Pamphilus) that, in relating another of
hers, ſhe ſhould follow on in the paſtime thus begun. She being no leſſe
gracious in countenance, then merrily diſpoſed; made anſwer, that ſhee
would obey her charge, and began in this manner.
Pamphilus hath declared to vs by his Tale, how the goodneſſe of God
regardeth not our errors, when they proceede from things which vvee
cannot diſcerne. And I intend to approoue by mine, what argument of
infallible truth, the ſame benignity deliuereth of it ſelfe, by enduring patiently
the faults of them, that (both in word and worke) ſhould declare
vnfaigned teſtimony of ſuch gracious goodneſſe, and not to liue ſo diſſolutely
as they doe. To the end, that others illumined by their light of
life, may beleeue with the ſtronger conſtancy of minde.
As I haue heeretofore heard (Gracious Ladies) there liued a wealthy
Marchant in Paris, being a Mercer, or ſeller of Silkes, named Iehannot de
Cheuigny, a man of faithful, honeſt, and vpright dealing; who held great
affection and friendſhip with a very rich Iew, named Abraham, that was
a Merchant alſo, and a man of very direct conuerſation. Iehannot vvell
noting the honeſty and loyall dealing of this Iew, began to haue a Religious
kind of compaſſion in his ſoule, much pittying, that a man ſo good
in behauiour, ſo wiſe and diſcreete in all his actions, ſhould be in danger
of perdition thorow want of Faith. In which regard, louingly he began
to entreate him, that he would leaue the errors of his Iewiſh beleefe, and
follow the truth of Chriſtianity, which he euidently ſaw (as being good
and holy) daily to proſper and enlarge it ſelfe, whereas (on the contrary)
his profeſſion decreaſed, and grew to nothing.
The Iew made anſwer, that he beleeued nothing to be ſo good & holy,
as the Iewiſh Religion, and hauing beene borne therein, therein alſo
he purpoſed to liue and dye, no matter whatſoeuer, being able to remoue
him from that reſolution. For all this ſtiffe deniall, Iehannot would not
ſo giue him ouer; but purſued him ſtill day by day, reitterating continually
his former ſpeeches to him: deliuering infinite excellent and pregnant
reaſons, that Merchants themſelues were not ignorant, how farre
the Chriſtian faith excelled the Iewiſh falſhoods. And albeit the Iew
was a very learned man in his owne law, yet notwithſtanding, the intire
amity hee bare to Iehannot, or (perhaps) his words fortified by the bleſſed
Spirit, were ſo preualent with him: that the Iew felt a pleaſing apprehenſion
in them, though his obſtinacie ſtood (as yet) farre off from conuerſion.
But as hee thus continued ſtrong in opinion, ſo Iehannot left not
hourely to labour him: in ſo much that the Iew, being conquered by
ſuch earneſt and continuall importunity, one day ſpake to Iehannot
thus.
My worthy friend Iehannot, thou art extremely deſirous, that I ſhould
conuert to Chriſtianity, and I am well contended to doe it, onely vpon
this condition. That firſt I will iourney to Rome, to ſee him (whom thou
ſayeſt) is Gods generall vicar here on earth, and to conſider on the courſe
of his life and manners, and likewiſe of his Colledge of Cardinals. If he
and they doe appeare ſuch men to me, as thy ſpeeches affirmes them to
be, and thereby I may comprehend, that thy faith and Religion is better
then mine, as (with no meane paines) thou endeuoureſt to perſwade me:
I will become a Chriſtian as thou art, but if I finde it otherwiſe, I will continue
a Iew as I am.
When Iehannot heard theſe words, he became exceeding ſorrowfull,
within himſelfe. I haue loſt all the paines, which I did thinke to be well
imployed, as hoping to haue this man conuerted here: For, if he goe to
the Court of Rome, and behold there the wickednes of the Prieſts liues;
farewell all hope in me, of euer ſeeing him to become a Chriſtian. But
rather, were he already a Chriſtian, without all queſtion, he would turne
Iew: And ſo (going neerer to Abraham) he ſaid. Alas my louing friend,
why ſhouldſt thou vndertake ſuch a tedious trauell, and ſo great a charge,
as thy iourney from hence to Rome will coſt thee? Conſider, that to a
rich man (as thou art) trauaile by land or ſea is full of infinite dangers.
Doeſt thou not thinke, that here are Religious men enow, who will gladly
beſtowe Baptiſme vpon thee. To me therefore it plainely appeareth,
that ſuch a voyage is to no purpoſe. If thou ſtandeſt vpon any doubt or
ſcruple, concerning the faith whereto I wiſh thee; where canſt thou deſire
conference with greater Doctours, or men more learned in all reſpects,
then this famous Citie doth affoord thee, to reſolue thee in any
queſtionable caſe? Thou muſt thinke, that the Prelates are ſuch there, as
here thou ſeeſt them to be, and yet they muſt needes be in much better
condition at Rome, becauſe they are neere to the principall Paſtour. And
therefore, if thou wilt credit my counſell, reſerue this iourney to ſome
time more conuenient, when the Iubilee of generall pardon happeneth,
and then (perchance) I will beare thee company, and goe along with thee
as in vowed pilgrimage.
Whereto the Iew replied. I beleeue Iehannot, that all which thou haſt
ſaid may be ſo. But, to make ſhort with thee, I am fully determined (if
thou wouldſt haue me a Chriſtian, as thou inſtantly vrgeſt me to be) to
goe thither, for otherwiſe, I will continue as I am. Iehannot perceiuing
his ſetled purpoſe, ſaid: Goe then in Gods name. But perſwaded himſelfe,
that hee would neuer become a Chriſtian, after hee had once ſeene
the Court of Rome: neuertheleſſe, he counted his labour not altogether
loſt, in regard he beſtowed it to a good end, and honeſt intentions are to
be commended.
The Iew mounted on horſe-backe, and made no lingering in his iourney
to Rome, where being arriued, he was very honourably entertained
by other Iewes dwelling in Rome. And during the time of his abiding
there (without reuealing to any one, the reaſon of his comming thither)
very heedfully he obſerued, the manner of the Popes life, of the Cardinals,
Prelates, and all the Courtiers. And being a man very diſcreete and
iudicious, he apparantly perceiued, both by his owne eye, and further
information of friends; that from the higheſt to the loweſt (without any
reſtraint, remorſe of conſcience, ſhame, or feare of puniſhment) all ſinned
in abhominable luxurie, and not naturally onely, but in foule Sodomie,
ſo that the credit of Strumpets and Boyes was not ſmall, and yet
might be too eaſily obtained. Moreouer, drunkards, belly-Gods, and
ſeruants of the paunch, more then of any thing elſe (euen like brutiſh
beaſts after their luxurie) were euery where to be met withall. And, vpon
further obſeruation, hee ſaw all men ſo couetous and greedy of coyne,
that euery thing was bought and ſolde for ready money, not onely the
blood of men, but (in plaine termes) the faith of Chriſtians, yea, and
matters of diuineſt qualities, how, or to whomſoeuer appertaining, were
it for ſacrifices or benefices, whereof was made no meane Merchandize,
and more Brokers were there to be found (then in Paris attending vpon
all Trades) of manifeſt Symonie, vnder the nice name of Negotiation,
and for gluttony, not ſuſtentation: euen as if God had not knowne the
ſignification of vocables, nor the intentions of wicked hearts, but would
ſuffer himſelfe to be deceiued by the outward names of things, as wretched
men commonly vſe to doe.
Theſe things, and many more (fitter for ſilence, then publication)
were ſo deepely diſpleaſing to the Iew, being a moſt ſober and modeſt
man; that he had ſoone ſeene enough, reſoluing on his returne to Paris,
which very ſpeedily he performed. And when Iehannot heard of his arriuall,
crediting much rather other newes from him, then euer to ſee him
a conuerted Chriſtian; he went to welcome him, and kindly they feaſted
one another. After ſome fewe dayes of reſting, Iehannot demaunded of
him; what he thought of our holy father the Pope and his Cardinals, and
generally of all the other Courtiers? Whereto the Iew readily anſwered;
It is ſtrange Iehannot, that God ſhould giue them ſo much as he doth. For
I will truly tell thee, that if I had beene able to conſider all thoſe things,
which there I haue both heard and ſeene: I could then haue reſolued my
ſelfe, neuer to haue found in any Prieſt, either ſanctity, deuotion, good
worke, example of honeſt life, or any good thing elſe beſide. But if a
man deſire to ſee luxury, auarice, gluttony, and ſuch wicked things, yea,
worſe, if worſe may be, and held in generall eſtimation of all men; let
him but goe to Rome, which I thinke rather to be the forge of damnable
actions, then any way leaning to grace or goodneſſe. And, for ought I
could perceiue, me thinkes your chiefe Paſtour, and (conſequently) all the
reſt of his dependants, doe ſtriue ſo much as they may (with all their engine
arte and endeuour) to bring to nothing, or elſe to baniſh quite out
of the world, Chriſtian Religion, whereof they ſhould be the ſupport and
foundation.
But becauſe I perceiue, that their wicked intent will neuer come to
paſſe, but contrariwiſe, that your faith enlargeth it ſelfe, ſhining euery
day much more cleare and ſplendant: I gather thereby euidently, that
the bleſſed Spirit is the true ground and defence thereof, as being more
true and holy then any other. In which reſpect, whereas I ſtood ſtiffe and
obſtinate againſt the good admonitions, and neuer minded to become a
Chriſtian: now I freely open my heart vnto thee, that nothing in the
world can or ſhall hinder me, but I will be a Chriſtian, as thou art. Let
vs therefore preſently goe to the Church, and there (according to the
true cuſtome of your holy faith) helpe me to be baptized.
Iehannot, who expected a farre contrary concluſion, then this, hearing
him ſpeake it with ſuch conſtancy; was the very gladdeſt man in the
world, and went with him to the Church of Noſtre Dame in Paris, where
he requeſted the Prieſts there abiding, to beſtow baptiſme on Abraham,
which they ioyfully did, hearing him ſo earneſtly to deſire it. Iehannot
was his Godfather, and named him Iobn, and afterward, by learned Diuines
he was more fully inſtructed in the grounds of our faith; wherein
he grew of greatly vnderſtanding, and led a very vertuous life.
Melchiſedech a Iew, by recounting a Tale of three Rings, to the great Soldam, named Saladine, preuented a great danger which was prepared for him.
The third Nouell.
Whereby the Author, approuing the Christian Faith, ſheweth, how beneficiall a ſodaine and ingenious anſwer may fall out to bee, eſpecially when a man finds himſelfe in ſome euident danger.
MAdame Neiphila hauing ended her Diſcourſe, which was well allowed
of by all the company; it pleaſed the Queene, that Madam Philomena
ſhould next ſucceede in order, who thus began.
The Tale deliuered by Neiphila, maketh mee remember a doubtfull
caſe, which ſometime hapned to another Iew. And becauſe that God,
and the truth of his holy Faith, hath bene already very wel diſcourſed on:
it ſhall not ſeeme vnfitting (in my poore opinion) to deſcend now into
the accidents of men. Wherefore, I will relate a matter vnto you, which
being attentiuely heard and conſidered; may make you much more circumſpect,
in anſwering to diuers queſtions and demands, then (perhaps)
otherwiſe you would be. Conſider then (moſt woorthy aſſembly) that
like as folly or dulneſſe, many times hath ouerthrowne ſome men from
place of eminencie, into moſt great and greeuous miſeries: euen ſo, diſcrect
ſenſe and good vnderſtanding, hath deliuered many out of irkſome
perils, and ſeated them in ſafeſt ſecurity. And to proue it true, that folly
hath made many fall from high authority, into poore and deſpiſed calamity;
may be auouched by infinite examples, which now were needeleſſe
to remember: But, that good ſenſe and able vnderſtanding, may
prooue to be the occaſion of great deſolation, without happy preuention,
I will declare vnto you in very few words, and make it good according
to my promiſe.
Saladine, was a man ſo powerfull and valiant, as not onely his very valour
made him Soldan of Babylon, but alſo gaue him many ſignall victories,
ouer Kings of the Sarrazens, and of Chriſtians likewiſe. Hauing
in diuers Warres, and other magnificent employments of his owne, waſted
all his treaſure, and (by reaſon of ſome ſodaine accident happening
to him) ſtanding in neede to vſe ſome great ſumme of money, yet not
readily knowing where, or how to procure it; he remembred a rich Iew
named Melchiſedech, that lent out money to vſe or intereſt in the City of
Alexandria. This man he imagined beſt able to furniſh him, if he could
be won to do it willingly: but he was knowne to be ſo gripple and miſerable,
that hardly any meanes would drawe him to it. In the end, conſtrained
by neceſſity, and labouring his wits for ſome apt deuice whereby
he might haue it: he concluded, though hee might not compell him to
do it, yet by a practiſe ſhadowed with good reaſon to enſnare him. And
hauing ſent for him, entertained him very familiarly in his Court, and ſitting
downe by him, thus began.
Honeſt man, I haue often heard it reported by many, that thou art very
skilfull, and in caſes concerning God, thou goeſt beyond all other of
theſe times: wherefore, I would gladly be informed by thee, vvhich of
thoſe three Lawes or Religions, thou takeſt to be trueſt; that of the Iew,
the other of the Sarazen, or that of the Chriſtian? The Iew, being a very
wiſe man, plainly perceiued, that Saladine ſought to entrap him in his
anſwer, and ſo to raiſe ſome quarrell againſt him. For, if he commended
any one of thoſe Lawes aboue the other, he knew that Saladine had what
he aymed at. Wherefore, bethinking himſelfe to ſhape ſuch an anſwer,
as might no way trouble or entangle him: ſummoning all his ſences together,
and conſidering, that dallying with the Soldane might redound
to his no meane danger, thus he replied.
My Lord, the queſtion propounded by you, is faire and worthy, & to
anſwer mine opinion truly threof, doth neceſſarily require ſome time of
conſideration, if it might ſtand with your liking to allow it: but if not, let
me firſt make entrance to my reply, with a pretty tale, and well worth the
hearing. I haue oftentimes heard it reported, that (long ſince) there was
a very wealthy man, who (among other precious Iewels of his owne) had
a goodly Ring of great valew; the beauty and eſtimation whereof, made
him earneſtly deſirous to leaue it as a perpetuall memory and honour to
his ſucceſſors. Whereupon, he willed and ordained, that he among his
male children, with whom this Ring (being left by the Father) ſhould be
found in cuſtody after his death; hee and none other was to bee reputed
his heire, and to be honoured and reuerenced by all the reſt, as being the
prime and worthieſt perſon. That Sonne, to whom this Ring was left by
him, kept the ſame courſe to his poſterity, dealing (in all reſpects) as his
predeceſſor had done; ſo that (in ſhort time) the Ring (from hand to
hand) had many owners by Legacie.
At length, it came to the hand of one, who had three ſonnes, all of
them goodly and vertuous perſons, and verie obedient to their Father:
in which regard, he affected them all equally, without any difference or
partiall reſpect. The cuſtome of this ring being knowne to them, each
one of them (coueting to beare eſteeme aboue the other) deſired (as hee
could beſt make his meanes) his father, that in regard he was now grown
very old, he would leaue that Ring to him, whereby he ſhould bee acknowledged
for his heire. The good man, who loued no one of them
more then the other, knew not how to make his choiſe, nor to which of
them he ſhould leaue the Ring: yet hauing paſt his promiſe to them ſeuerally,
he ſtudied by what meanes to ſatisfie them all three. Wherfore,
ſecretly hauing conferred with a curious and excellent Goldſmith, hee
cauſed two other Rings to bee made, ſo really reſembling the firſt made
Ring, that himſelf (when he had them in his hand) could not diſtinguiſh
which was the right one.
Lying vpon his death-bed, and his Sonnes then plying him by their
beſt opportunities, he gaue to each of them a Ring And they (after his
death) preſuming ſeuerally vpon their right to the inheritance & honor,
grew to great contradiction and ſquare: each man producing then his
Ring, which were ſo truly all alike in reſemblance, as no one could know
the right Ring from the other. And therefore, ſuite in Law, to diſtinguiſh
the true heire to his Father; continued long time, and ſo it dooth yet to
this very day. In like manner my good Lord, concerning thoſe three
Lawes giuen by God the Father, to three ſuch people as you haue propounded:
each of them do imagine that they haue the heritage of God,
and his true Law, and alſo duely to performe his Commandements;
but which of them do ſo indeede, the queſtion (as of the three Ringes) is
yet remaining.
Saladine well perceyuing, that the Iew was too cunning to be caught
in his ſnare, and had anſwered ſo well, that to doe him further violence,
would redound vnto his perpetuall diſhonour;
〈◊〉
to reueale his
neede and extremity, and try if he would therein friendly ſted him. Hauing
diſcloſed the matter, and how he purpoſed to haue dealt with him,
if he had not returned ſo wiſe an anſwer; the Iew lent him ſo great a ſum
of money as hee demanded, and Saladine repayed it againe to him iuſtly,
giuing him other great gifts beſide: reſpecting him as his eſpeciall frend,
and maintaining him in very honourable condition,
neere vnto his owne perſon.
A Monke hauing committed an offence, deſeruing to be very grieuouſly puniſhed; freede himſelfe from the paine to be inflicted on him, by wittily reprehending his Abbot, with the very ſame fault.
The fourth Nouell.
Wherein may be noted, that ſuch men as will reproue thoſe errors in others, which remaine in themſelues, commonly are the Authors of their owne reprehenſion.
SO ceaſed Madam Philomena, after the concluſion of her Tale, when
Dioneus ſitting next vnto her, (without tarrying for any other command
from the Queene, knowing by the order formerly begunne, that he
was to follow in the ſame courſe) ſpake in this manner.
Gracious Ladies, if I faile not in vnderſtanding your generall intention;
we are purpoſely aſſembled here to tell Tales, and eſpecially ſuch as
may pleaſe our ſelues. In whith reſpect, becauſe nothing ſhould be done
diſorderly, I hold it lawfull for euery one (as our Queene decreed before
her dignity) to relate ſuch a nouelty, as (in their owne iudgement) may
cauſe moſt contentment. Wherefore hauing heard, that by the good admonitions
of Iehannot de Cheuigny, Abraham the Iew was aduiſed to the
ſaluation of his ſoule, and Melchiſedech (by his witty vnderſtanding) defended
his riches from the traines of Saladine: I now purpoſe to tell you
in a few plaine words, (without feare of receiuing any reprehenſion) how
cunningly a Monke compaſſed his deliuerance, from a puniſhment intended
towards him.
There was in the Country of Lunigiana (which is not farre diſtant from
our owne) a Monaſtery, which ſometime was better furniſhed with holineſſe
and Religion, then now adayes they are; wherein liued (among
diuers other) a young nouice Monke, whoſe hot and luſty diſpoſition (being
in the vigour of his yeeres) was ſuch, as neither faſtes nor prayers had
any great power ouer him. It chanced on a faſting day about high noone,
when all the other Monkes were aſleepe in their Dormitaries or Dorters,
this frolicke Friar was walking alone in their Church, which ſtood in a
very ſolitary place, where ruminating on many matters by himſelfe, hee
eſpied a pretty hanſome wench (ſome Husbandmans daughter in the
Countrey, that had beene gathering rootes and hearbes in the field) vppon
her knees before an Altar, whom he had no ſooner ſeene, but immediately
hee felt effeminate temptations, and ſuch as ill fitted with his
profeſſion.
Laſciuious deſire, and no religious deuotion, made him draw neere
her, and whether vnder ſhift (the onely cloake to compaſſe carnall affections)
or ſome other as cloſe conference, to as pernicious and vile a purpoſe,
I know not: but ſo farre he preuailed vpon her frailety, and ſuch a
bargaine paſſed betweene them, that (from the Church) he wonne her to
his Chamber, before any perſon could perceiue it. Now, while this yong
luſty Monke (tranſported with ouer-fond affection) was more careleſſe
of his dalliance, then he ſhould haue beene; the Lord Abbot, being newly
ariſen from ſleepe, and walking ſoftly about the Cloyſter, came to the
Monkes Daughters doore, where hearing what noyſe was made between
them, and a feminine voyce, more ſtrange then hee was wont to heare;
he layed his eare cloſe to the Chamber doore, and plainly perceiued, that
a woman was within. Wherewith being much moued, he intended ſuddenly
to make him open the doore; but (vpon better conſideration) hee
conceiued it farre more fitting for him, to returne backe to his owne
chamber, and tary vntill the Monke ſhould come forth.
The Monke, though his delight with the Damoſel was extraordinary,
yet feare and ſuſpition followed vpon it: for, in the very height of all his
wantonneſſe, he heard a ſoft treading about the doore. And prying thorow
a ſmall creuice in the ſame doore, perceiued apparantly, that the Abbot
himſelfe ſtood liſtening there, and could not be ignorant, but that the
Maide was with him in the Chamber. As after pleaſure enſueth paine,
ſo the veniall Monke knew well enough (though wanton heate would
not let him heede it before) that moſt greeuous puniſhment muſt be inflicted
on him; which made him ſad beyond all meaſure. Neuertheleſſe,
without diſcloſing his diſmay to the young Maiden, he began to conſider
with himſelfe on many meanes, whereby to find out one that might beſt
fit his turne. And ſuddenly conceited an apt ſtratagem, which ſorted to
ſuch effect as he would haue it: whereupon ſeeming ſatisfied for that ſeaſon,
hee tolde the Damoſell, that (being carefull of her credit) as he had
brought her in vnſeen of any, ſo he would free her from thence again, deſiring
her to tarrie there (without making any noyſe at all) vntil ſuch time
as he returned to her.
Going forth of the Chamber, and locking it faſt with the key, he went
directly to the Lord Abbots lodging, and deliuering him the ſaide key (as
euery Monke vſed to doe the like, when he went abroade out of the Conuent)
ſetting a good countenance on the matter, boldly ſaide; My Lord,
I haue not yet brought in all my par
•
of the wood, which lieth ready cut
downe in the Forreſt; and hauing now conuenient time to doe it, if you
pleaſe to giue me leaue, I will goe and fetch it. The Abbot perſwading
himſelfe, that he had not beene diſcouered by the Monke, and to be reſolued
more aſſuredly in the offence committed; being not a little iocund
of ſo happy an accident, gladly tooke the key, and gaue him leaue to fetch
the wood.
No ſooner was he gone, but the Abbot beganne to conſider with himſelfe,
what he were beſt to doe in this caſe, either (in the preſence of all the
other Monkes) to open the Chamber doore, that ſo the offence being
knowne to them all, they might haue no occaſion of murmuring againſt
him, when he proceeded in the Monkes puniſhment; or rather ſhould firſt
vnderſtand of the Damoſell her ſelfe, how, and in what manner ſhee was
brought thither. Furthermore, he conſidered, that ſhee might be a woman
of reſpect, or ſome ſuch mans daughter, as would not take it well,
to haue her diſgraced before all the Monkes. Wherefore he concluded,
firſt to ſee (himſelfe) what ſhee was, and then (afterward) to reſolue vpon
the reſt. So going very ſoftly to the Chamber, and entring in, locked the
doore faſt with the key, when the poore Damoſell thinking it had beene
the gallant young Monke; but finding it to be the Lord Abbot, ſhee fell
on her knees weeping, as fearing now to receiue publike ſhame, by being
betrayed in this vnkinde manner.
My Lord Abbot looking demurely on the Maide, and perceiuing her
to be faire, feate, and louely; felt immediately (although he was olde) no
leſſe ſpurring on to fleſhly deſires, then the young Monke before had
done; whereupon he beganne to conferre thus priuately with himſelfe.
Why ſhould I not take pleaſure, when I may freely haue it? Cares and
moleſtations I endure euery day, but ſildome find ſuch delights prepared
for me. This is a delicate ſweete young Damoſell, and here is no eye that
can diſcouer me. If I can enduce her to doe as I would haue her, I know
no reaſon why I ſhould gaine-ſay it. No man can know it, or any tongue
blaze it abroade; and ſinne ſo concealed, is halfe pardoned. Such a faire
fortune as this is, perhaps hereafter will neuer befall me; and therefore I
hold it wiſedome, to take ſuch a benefit when a man may enioy it.
Vpon this immodeſt meditation, and his purpoſe quite altered which
he came for; he went neerer to her, and very kindly began to comfort her,
deſiring her to forbeare weeping, and (by further inſinuating ſpeeches)
acquainted her with his amorous intention. The Maide, who was made
neither of yron nor diamond, and ſeeking to preuent one ſhame by another,
was eaſily wonne to the Abbots will, which cauſed him to embrace
and kiſſe her often.
Our luſty young nouice Monke, whom the Abbot imagined to be
gone for wood, had hid himſelfe aloft vpon the roofe of the Dorter,
where, when he ſaw the Abbot enter alone into the Chamber, hee loſt a
great part of his former feare, promiſing to himſelfe a kinde of perſwaſion,
that ſomewhat would enſue to his better comfort; but when he beheld
him lockt into the Chamber, then his hope grew to vndoubted certainty.
A little chincke or creuice fauoured him, whereat he could both
heare and ſee, whatſoeuer was done or ſpoken by them: ſo, when the Abbot
thought hee had ſtaide long enough with the Damoſell, leauing her
ſtill there, and locking the doore faſt againe, hee returned thence to his
owne Chamber.
Within ſome ſhort while after, the Abbot knowing the Monke to be
in the Conuent, and ſuppoſing him to be lately returned with the wood,
determined to reproue him ſharpely, and to haue him cloſely impriſoned,
that the Damoſell might remaine ſolie to himſelfe. And cauſing him to
be called preſently before him, with a very ſtearne and angry countenance
giuing him many harſh and bitter ſpeeches, commanded, that he ſhould
be clapt in priſon.
The Monke very readily anſwered, ſaying. My good Lord, I haue not
yet beene ſo long in the order of Saint Benedict, as to learne all the particularities
thereto belonging. And beſide Sir, you neuer ſhewed mee or
any of my brethren, in what manner we young Monkes ought to vſe women,
as you haue otherwiſe done for our cuſtome of prayer and faſting.
But ſeeing you haue ſo lately therein inſtructed mee, and by your owne
example how to doe it: I heere ſolemnely promiſe you, if you pleaſe to
pardon me but this one error, I will neuer faile therein againe, but dayly
follow what I haue ſeene you doe.
The Abbot, being a man of quicke apprehenſion, perceiued inſtantly
by this anſwere; that the Monke not onely knew as much as he did, but
alſo had ſeene (what was intended) that hee ſhould not. Wherefore,
finding himſelfe to be as faulty as the Monke, and that hee could not
ſhame him, but worthily had deſerued as much himſelfe; pardoning him,
and impoſing ſilence on eithers offence: they conuayed the poore abuſed
Damoſell forth of their doores, ſhe purpoſing (neuer after) to tranſgreſſe
in the like manner.
The Lady Marqueſſe of Montferrat, with a Banquet of Hennes, and diuers other gracious ſpeeches beſide, repreſſed the fond loue of the King of France.
The fift Nouell.
Declaring, that wiſe and vertuous Ladies, ought to hold their chaſtitie in more eſteeme, then the greatneſſe and treaſures of Princes: and that a diſcreete Lord ſhould not offer modeſtie violence.
THE Tale reported by Dioneus, at the firſt hearing of the
Ladies, began to relliſh of ſome immodeſtie, as the baſhfull
blood mounting vp into their faces, deliuered by apparant
teſtimonie. And beholding one another with ſcarſe-pleaſing
lookes, during all the time it was in diſcourſing, no
ſooner had hee concluded: but with a fewe milde and gentle ſpeeches,
they gaue him a modeſt reprehenſion, and meaning to let him know, that
ſuch tales ought not to be tolde among women. Afterward, the Queene
commaunded Madame Fiammetta, (ſitting on a banke of flowers before
her) to take her turne as next in order: and ſhe, ſmiling with ſuch a virginbluſh,
as very beautifully became her, began in this manner.
It is no little ioy to me, that wee vnderſtand ſo well (by the diſcourſes
already paſt) what power conſiſteth in the deliuery of wiſe and ready anſweres;
And becauſe it is a great part of ſence and iudgement in men, to
affect women of great birth and quality, then themſelues, as alſo an admirable
fore-ſight in women, to keepe off from being ſurprized in loue,
by Lords going beyond them in degree; a matter offereth it ſelfe to my
memory, well deſeruing my ſpeech and your attention, how a Gentlewoman
(both in word and deede) ſhould defend her honour in that kind,
when importunity laboureth to betray it.
The Marqueſſe of Montferrat was a worthy and valiant Knight, who
being Captaine Generall for the Church, the neceſſary ſeruice required
his company on the Seas, in a goodly Army of the Chriſtians againſt the
Turkes. Vpon a day, in the Court of King Philip, ſirnamed the one eyed
King (who likewiſe made preparation in France, for a royall aſſiſtance to
that expedition) as many ſpeeches were deliuered, concerning the valour
and manhood of this Marqueſſe: it fortuned, that a Knight was
then preſent, who knew him very familiarly, and hee gaue an addition to
the former commendation, than the whole world contained not a more
equall couple in mariage, then the Marqueſſe & his Lady. For, as among
all Knights, the Marqueſſe could hardly be paraleld for Armes and honour;
euen ſo his wife, in compariſon of all other Ladies, was ſcarcely
matchable for beauty and vertue. Which words were ſo waighty in the
apprehenſion of King Philip, that ſuddainly (hauing as yet neuer ſeene
her) he began to affect her very earneſtly, concluding to embarque himſelfe
at Gennes or Genoua, there to ſet forward on the intended voyage,
and iourneying thither by land: hee would ſhape ſome honeſt excuſe to
ſee the Lady Marqueſſe, whoſe Lord being then from home, opinion
perſwaded him ouer-fondly, that he ſhould eaſily obtaine the iſſue of his
amorous deſire.
When hee was come within a dayes iourney, where the Lady Marqueſſe
then lay; he ſent her word, that ſhe ſhould expect his company on
the morrow at dinner. The Lady, being ſingularly wiſe and iudicious;
anſwered the Meſſenger, that ſhe reputed the Kings comming to her, as
an extraordinary grace and fauour, and that hee ſhould be moſt heartily
welcome. Afterward, entring into further conſideration with her ſelfe,
what the King might meane by this priuate viſitation, knowing her huſband
to be from home, and it to be no meane barre to his apter entertainement:
at laſt ſhe diſcreetly conceited (and therein was not deceiued)
that babling report of her beauty and perfections, might thus occaſion
the Kings cōming thither, his iourny lying elſe a quite contrary way. Notwithſtanding,
being a Princely Lady, and ſo loyall a wife as euer liued,
ſhee intended to giue him her beſt entertainement: ſummoning the
chiefeſt Gentlemen in the Country together, to take due order (by their
aduiſe) for giuing the King a gracious welcome. But concerning the
dinner, and diet for ſeruice to his table; that remained onely at her owne
diſpoſing.
Sending preſently abroade, and buying all the Hennes that the Country
afforded; ſhee commaunded her Cookes, that onely of them (without
any other prouiſion beſide) they ſhould prepare all the ſeruices that
they could deuiſe. On the morrow, the King came according to his promiſe,
and was moſt honourable welcommed by the Lady, who ſeemed in
his eye (farre beyond the Knights ſpeeches of her) the faireſt creature that
euer he had ſeene before; whereat he meruailed not a little, extolling her
perfections to be peereleſſe, which much the more enflamed his affections,
and (almoſt) made his deſires impatient. The King being withdrawne
into ſuch Chambers, as orderly were prepared for him, and as
beſeemed ſo great a Prince: the houre of dinner drawing on, the King
and the Lady Marqueſſe were ſeated at one Table, and his attendants
placed at other tables, anſwerable to their degrees of honour.
Plenty of diſhes being ſerued in, and the rareſt wines that the Countrey
yeelded, the King had more minde to the faire Lady Marqueſſe, then
any meate that ſtood on the Table. Neuertheleſſe, obſeruing each ſeruice
after other, and that all the Viands (though variouſly cooked, and in
diuers kindes) were nothing elſe but Hennes onely; he began to wonder,
and ſo much the rather, becauſe he knew the Countrey to be of ſuch quality,
that it affoorded all plenty both of Fowles and Venyſon: beſide, after
the time of his comming was heard, they had reſpite enough, both for
hawking and hunting; and therefore it encreaſed his maruell the more,
that nothing was prouided for him, but Hennes onely: wherein to be the
better reſolued, turning a merry countenance to the Lady, thus he ſpake.
Madam, are Hennes onely bred in this Countrey, and no Cockes? The
Lady Marqueſſe, very well vnderſtanding his demand, which fitted her
with an apt opportunity, to thwart his idle hope, and defend her owne
honour; boldly returned the King this anſwere. Not ſo my Lord, but women
and wiues, howſoeuer they differ in garments and graces one from
another; yet notwithſtanding, they are all heere as they be in other
places.
When the King heard this reply, he knew well enough the occaſion of
his Henne dinner, as alſo, what vertue lay couched vnder her anſwer;
perceiuing apparantly, that wanton words would proue but in vaine, and
ſuch a woman was not eaſily to be ſeduced; wherefore, as hee grew enamored
on her inconſiderately, ſo he found it beſt fitting for his honour,
to quench this heate with wiſedome diſcreetely. And ſo, without any
more words, or further hope of ſpeeding in ſo vnkingly a purpoſe, dinner
being ended, by a ſudden departing, he ſmoothly ſhadowed the cauſe of
his comming, and thanking her for the honour ſhee had done him, commended
her to her chaſte diſpoſition, and poſted away with ſpeede to
Gennes.
An honest plaine meaning man, (ſimply and conſcionably) reprehended the malignity, hypocriſie, and miſdemeanour of many Religious perſons.
The ſixt Nouell.
Declaring, that in few, diſcreete, and well placed words, the couered craft of Church-men may be iuſtly reproued, and their hypocriſie honestly diſcouered.
MAdam Aemilia ſitting next to the gentle Lady Fiammetta, perceiuing
the modeſt chaſtiſement, which the vertuous Lady Marqueſſe had
giuen to the King of France, was generally graced by the whole Aſſembly;
began (after the Queene had thereto appointed her) in theſe words.
Nor will I conceale the deſerued reprehenſion, which an honeſt ſimple
lay-man, gaue to a couetous holy Father, in very few words; yet more to
be commended, then derided.
Not long ſince (worthy Ladies) there dwelt in our owne natiue City,
a Friar Minor, an Inquiſitor after matters of Faith, who, although he laboured
greatly to ſeeme a ſanctified man, and an earneſt affecter of Chriſtian
Religion, (as all of them appeare to be in outward ſhew;) yet he was
a much better Inquiſitor after them, that had their purſes plenteouſly ſtored
with money, then of ſuch as were ſlenderly grounded in Faith. By
which diligent continued care in him, he found out a man, more rich in
purſe, then vnderſtanding; and yet not ſo defectiue in matters of faith, as
miſguided by his owne ſimple ſpeaking, and (perhaps) when his braine
was well warmed with wine, words fell more fooliſhly from him, then in
better iudgement they could haue done.
Being on a day in company, (very little differing in quality from himſelfe)
he chanced to ſay; that he had beene at ſuch good wine, as God
himſelfe did neuer drinke better. Which words (by ſome Sicophant then
in preſence) being carried to this curious Inquiſitor, and he well knowing,
that the mans faculties were great, and his bagges ſwolne vp full with
no meane abundance: Cum gladijs & fuſtibus; With Booke, Bell, and
Candle, he rayſed an hoaſt of execrations againſt him, and the Sumner
cited him with a ſolemne Proceſſe to appeare before him, vnderſtanding
ſufficiently, that this courſe would ſooner fetch money from him, then
amend any misbeliefe in the man; for no further reformation did he ſeeke
after.
The man comming before him, he demanded, if the accuſation intimated
againſt him, was true or no? Whereto the honeſt man anſwered,
that he could not denie the ſpeaking of ſuch words, and declared in what
manner they were vttered. Preſently the Inquiſitor, moſt deuoutly addicted
to Saint Iohn with the golden beard, ſaide; What? Doeſt thou make
our Lord a drinker, and a curious quaffer of wines, as if he were a glutton,
belly-god, or a Tauerne haunter, as thou, and other drunkards are. Being
an hypocrite, as thou art, thou thinkeſt this to be but a light matter, becauſe
it may ſeeme ſo in thine owne opinion: but I tell thee plainly, that
it deſerueth fire and faggor, if I ſhould proceede in Iuſtice to inflict it on
thee: with theſe, and other ſuch like threatning words, as alſo a very ſtearn
and angry countenance, he made the man belieue himſelfe to be an Epicure,
and that hee denied the eternity of the ſoule; whereby he fell into
ſuch a trembling feare, as doubting indeed, leaſt he ſhould be burned,
that, to be more mercifully dealt withall, he rounded him in the care, and
(by ſecret means) ſo annointed his hands with Saint Iohns golden greaſe,
(a very ſingular remedy againſt the diſeaſe peſtilentiall in couetous
Prieſts, eſpecially Friars Minors, that dare touch no money) as the caſe
became very quickly altered.
This ſoueraigne vnction was of ſuch vertue (though Galen ſpeakes not
a word thereof among all his chiefeſt medicines) and ſo farre preuailed;
that the terrible threatening words of fire and fagot, became meerely frozen
vp, and gracious language blew a more gentle and calmer ayre; the
Inquiſitor deliuering him an hallowed Crucifixe, creating him a Souldier
of the Croſſe (becauſe he had payred Croſſes good ſtore for it) and euen
as if he were to trauell vnder that Standard to the holy Land; ſo did hee
appoint him a home-paying pennance, namely, to viſit him thrice euery
weeke in his Chamber, and to annoint his hands with the ſelfe-ſame yellow
vnguent, and afterward, to heare a Maſſe of the holy Croſſe, viſiting
him alſo at dinner time, which being ended, to doe nothing all the reſt of
the day, but according as he directed him.
The ſimple man, yet not ſo ſimple, but ſeeing that this weekely greaſing
the Inquiſitors hands, would (in time) graſpe away all his gold; grew
weary of this annointing, and beganne to conſider with himſelfe, how to
ſtay the courſe of this chargeable penance: And comming one morning,
(according to his iniunction) to heare Maſſe, in the Goſpell he obſerued
theſe wordes; You ſhall receiue an hundred for one, and ſo poſſeſſe eternall
life; which ſaying he kept perfectly in his memory, and, as hee was
commanded, at dinner time, he came to the Inquiſitor, finding him (among
his fellowes) ſeated at the Table. The Inquiſitor preſently demanded
of him, whether he had heard Maſſe that morning, or no? Yes Sir,
replied the man very readily. Haſt thou heard any thing therein (quoth
the Inquiſitor) whereof thou art doubtfull, or deſireſt to be further informed?
Surely Sir, anſwered the plaine meaning man, I make no doubt
of any thing I haue heard, but doe beleeue all conſtantly; onely one thing
troubleth me much, and maketh me very compaſſionate of you, and of
all theſe holy Fathers your brethren, perceiuing in what wofull and wretched
eſtate you will be, when you ſhall come into another World. What
words are theſe, quoth the Inquiſitor? And why art thou moued to ſuch
compaſſion of vs? O good Sir, ſaide the man, doe you remember the
words in the Goſpell this morning? you ſhall receiue an hundred for
one. That is very true, replied the Inquiſitor, but what moueth thee to
vrge thoſe words?
I will tell you Sir, anſwered the plaine fellow, ſo it might pleaſe you to
be not offended. Since the time of my reſorting hither, I haue daily ſeene
many poore people at your doore, and (out of your abundance) when
you and your brethren haue fed ſufficiently, euery one hath had a good
meſſe of pottage: now Sir, if for euery diſhfull giuen, you are ſure to receiue
an hundred againe, you will all be meerely drowned in pottage. Although
though the reſt (ſitting at the Table with the Inquiſitor) laughed heartily
at this ieſt; yet he found himſelfe toucht in another nature, hauing (hypocritically)
receiued for one poore offence, aboue three hundred peeces of
gold, and not a mite to be reſtored againe. But fearing to be further diſcloſed,
yet threatning him with another Proceſſe in Law, for abuſing the
words of the Goſpell; he was content to diſmiſſe him for altogether, without
any more golden greaſing in the hand.
Bergamino, by telling a Tale of a skilfull man, named Primaſſo, and of an Abbot of Clugni; honestly checked a new kinde of couetouſneſſe, in Master Can de la Scala.
The ſeauenth Nouell.
Approuing, that it is much vnfitting for a Prince, or great perſon, to be couetous; but rather to be liberall to all men.
THe curteous demeanor of Madam Aemilia, and the quaintneſſe of her
diſcourſe, cauſed both the Queene, and the reſt of the company, to
commend the inuention of carrying the Croſſe, and the golden oyntment
appointed for pennance. Afterward, Philostratus, who was in order to
ſpeake next, began in this manner.
It is a commendable thing (faire Ladies) to hit a But that neuer ſtirreth
out of his place: but it is a matter much more admirable, to ſee a thing
(ſuddenly appearing, and ſildome or neuer frequented before) to be as
ſuddenly hit by an ordinary Archer. The vicious and polluted liues of
Prieſts, yeeldeth matter of it ſelfe in many things, deſeruing ſpeech and
reprehenſion, as a true But of wickedneſſe, and well worthy to be ſharply
ſhot at. And therefore, though that honeſt meaning man did wiſely, in
touching Maſter Inquiſitor to the quicke, with the hypocriticall charity
of Monkes and Friars, in giuing ſuch things to the poore, as were more
meete for ſwine, or to be worſe throwne away; yet I hold him more to be
commended, who (by occaſion of a former tale, and which I purpoſe to
relate) pleaſantly reproued Maſter Can de la Scala, a Magnifico and mightie
Lord, for a ſudden and vnaccuſtomed couetouſneſſe appearing in him,
figuring by other men, that which he intended to ſay of him, in manner
following.
Maſter Can de la Scala, as fame ranne abroade of him in all places, was
(beyond the infinite fauours of Fortune towards him) one of the moſt
notable and magnificent Lords that euer liued in Italy, ſince the dayes of
Fredericke the ſecond Emperour. He determining to procure a very ſolemne
aſſembly at Verona, and many people being met there from diuers
places, eſpecially Gentlemen of all degrees; ſuddenly (vpon what occaſion
I know not) his minde altered, and hee would not goe forward with
his intention. Moſt of them hee partly recompenced which were come
thither, and they diſmiſſed to depart at their pleaſure, one onely man remained
vnreſpected, or in any kinde ſort ſent away, whoſe name was Bergamino,
a man very pleaſantly diſpoſed, and ſo wittily ready in ſpeaking
and anſwering, as none could eaſily credit it, but ſuch as heard him; and
although his recompence ſeemed ouer long delayed, yet hee made no
doubt of a beneficiall ending.
By ſome enemies of his, Maſter Can de la Scala was incenſed, that whatſoeuer
he gaue or beſtowed on him; was as ill imployed and vtterly loſt,
as if it were throwne into the fire, and therefore he neither did or ſpake
any thing to him. Some fewe dayes being paſſed ouer, and Bergamino
perceiuing, that hee was neither called, nor any account made of, notwithſtanding
many manly good parts in him; obſeruing beſide, that hee
found a ſhrewd conſumption in his purſe, his Inne, horſes, and ſeruants
being chargeable to him: he beg
•
n to grow extremely melancholly, and
yet hee attended in expectation day by day, as thinking it farre vnfitting
for him, to depart before he was bidden farewell.
Hauing brought with him thither three goodly rich garments, which
had beene giuen him by ſundry Lords, for his more ſightly appearance
at this great meeting: the importunate Hoſt being greedy of payment,
firſt he deliuered him one of them, and yet not halfe the ſcore being wiped
off, the ſecond muſt needes follow, and beſide, except he meant to leaue
his lodging, hee muſt liue vpon the third ſo long as it would laſt, till hee
ſaw what end his hopes would ſort to. It fortuned, during the time of
liuing thus vpon his lateſt refuge, that he met with Maiſter Can one day
at dinner, where he preſented himſelfe before him, with a diſcontented
countenance: which Maiſter Can well obſeruing, more to diſtaſte him,
then take delight in any thing that could come from him, he ſaid. Bergamino,
how cheareſt thou? Thou art very melancholly, I pray thee tell vs
why? Bergamino ſuddenly, without any premeditation, yet ſeeming as if
he had long conſidered thereon, reported this Tale.
Sir, I haue heard of a certaine man, named Primaſſo, one skilfully learned
in the Grammar, and (beyond all other) a very witty and ready verſifier:
in regard whereof, he was ſo much admired, and farre renowned,
that ſuch as neuer ſaw him, but onely heard of him, could eaſily ſay, this
is Primaſſo. It came to paſſe, that being once at Paris, in poore eſtate, as
commonly hee could light on no better fortune (becauſe vertue is ſlenderly
rewarded, by ſuch as haue the greateſt poſſeſſions) he heard much
fame of the Abbot of Clugni, a man reputed (next to the Pope) to be the
richeſt Prelate of the Church. Of him he heard wonderfull and magnificent
matters, that he alwayes kept an open and hoſpitable Court, and
neuer made refuſall of any (from whence ſo euer hee came or went) but
they did eate and drinke freely there; prouided, that they came when
the Abbot was ſet at the Table. Primaſſo hearing this, and being an earneſt
deſirer, to ſee magnificent and vertuous men; he reſolued to goe ſee
this rare bounty of the Abbot, demaunding how far he dwelt from Paris.
Being anſwered, about ſome three leagues thence; Primaſſo made account,
that if he went on betimes in the morning, he ſhould eaſily reach
thither before the houre for dinner.
Being inſtructed in the way, and not finding any to walke along with
him; fearing, if he went without ſome furniſhment, and ſhould ſtay long
there for his dinner, he might (perhaps) complaine of hunger: he therefore
caried three loaues of bread with him, knowing that he could meete
with water euery where, albeit he vſed to drinke but little. Hauing aptly
conuayed his bread about him, he went on his iourney, and arriued at the
Lord Abbots Court, an indifferent while before dinner time: wherfore,
entring into the great Hall, and ſo from place to place, beholding the
great multitude of Tables, bountifull preparation in the Kitchin, and
what admirable prouiſion there was for dinner; he ſaid to himſelfe, Truly
this man is more magnificent, then Fame hath made him, becauſe ſhee
ſpeakes too ſparingly of him.
While thus he went about, conſidering on all theſe things, he ſaw the
Maiſter of the Abbots houſhold (becauſe then it was the houre of dinner)
commaund water to be brought for waſhing hands, and euery one
ſitting downe at the Table: it fell to the lot of Primaſſo, to ſit directly
againſt the doore, whereat the Abbot muſt enter into the Hall. The
cuſtome in this Court was ſuch, that no foode ſhould be ſerued to
any, of the Tables, vntill the Lord Abbot was himſelfe firſt ſette:
whereupon, euery thing being fitte and readie, the Maiſter of the
houſhold, went to tell his Lord, that nothing now wanted but his preſence
onely.
The Abbot comming from his Chamber to enter the Hall, looking
about him, as hee was wont to doe; the firſt man hee ſaw was Primaſſo,
who being but in homely habite, and he hauing not ſeene him before to
his remembrance; a preſent bad conceite poſſeſſed his braine, that he neuer
ſaw an vnworthier perſon, ſaying within himſelfe: See how I giue
my goods away to be deuoured. So returning backe to his Chamber
againe, commaunded the doore to be made faſt, demaunding of euery
man neere about him, if they knew the baſe Knaue that ſate before his
entrance into the Hall, and all his ſeruants anſwered no. Primaſſo being
extreamely hungry, with trauailing on foote ſo farre, and neuer vſed to
faſt ſo long; expecting ſtill when meate would be ſerued in, and that the
Abbot came not at all: drew out one of his loaues which hee brought
with him, and very heartily fell to feeding.
My Lord Abbot, after he had ſtayed within an indifferent while, ſent
forth one of his men, to ſee if the poore fellow was gone, or no. The ſeruant
told him, that he ſtill ſtayed there, and fed vpon dry bread, which it
ſeemed he had brought thither with him. Let him feede on his owne (replyed
the Abbot) for he ſhall taſte of none of mine this day. Gladly wold
the Abbot, that Primaſſo ſhould haue gone thence of himſelfe, and yet
held it ſcarſely honeſt in his Lordſhip, to diſmiſſe him by his owne command.
Primaſſo hauing eaten one of his Loaues, and yet the Abbot was
not come; began to feede vpon the ſecond: the Abbot ſtill ſending to
expect his abſence, and anſwered as he was before. At length, the Abbot
not comming, and Primaſſo hauing eaten vp his ſecond loafe, hunger
compeld him to begin with the third.
When theſe newes were carried to the Abbot, ſodainly he brake forth
and ſaide. What new kinde of needy tricke hath my braine begotte this
day? Why do I grow diſdainfull againſt any man whatſoeuer? I haue
long time allowed my meate to be eaten by all commers that did pleaſe
to viſit me, without exception againſt any perſon, Gentleman, Yeoman,
poore or rich, Marchant or Minſtrill, honeſt man or knaue, neuer refraining
my preſence in the Hall, by baſely contemning one poore man. Beleeue
me, couetouſneſſe of one mans meate, doth ill agree with mine eſtate
and calling. What though he appeareth a wretched fellow to mee?
He may be of greater merit then I can imagine, and deſerue more honor
then I am able to giue him.
Hauing thus diſcourſed with himſelfe, he would needs vnderſtande of
whence and what he was, and finding him to be Primaſſo, come onely to
ſee the magnificence which he had reported of him, knowing alſo (by the
generall fame noyſed euery whereof him) that he was reputed to bee a
learned, honeſt, and ingenious man: he grew greatly aſhamed of his own
folly, and being deſirous to make him an amends, ſtroue many waies how
to do him honor, When dinner was ended, the Abbot beſtowed honorable
garments on him, ſuch as beſeemed his degree and merit, and putting
good ſtore of money in his purſe, as alſo giuing him a good horſſe
to ride on, left it at his owne free election, whether hee would ſtay there
ſtill with him, or depart at his pleaſure. Wherewith Primaſſo being highly
contented, yeelding him the heartieſt thankes he could deuiſe to doe,
returned to Paris on horſe-back, albeit he came poorly thether on foot.
Maſter Can de la Scala, who was a man of good vnderſtanding, perceyued
immediately (without any further interpretation) what Bergamino
meant by this morall, and ſmiling on him, ſaide: Bergamino, thou haſt
honeſtly expreſſed thy vertue and neceſſities, and iuſtly reprooued mine
auarice, niggardneſſe, and baſe folly. And truſt me Bergamino, I neuer
felt ſuch a fit of couetouſneſſe come vpon me, as this which I haue diſhoneſtly
declared to thee: and which I will now baniſh from me, with the
ſame correction as thou haſt taught mee. So, hauing payed the Hoſt all
his charges, redeeming alſo his robes or garments, mounting him on a
good Gelding, and putting plenty of Crownes in his purſe, hee referd it
to his owne choiſe to depart, or dwell there ſtill with him.
Guillaume Bourſier, with a few quaint and familiar words, checkt the miſerable couetouſneſſe of Signior Herminio de Grimaldi.
The eight Nouell.
Which plainly declareth, that a couetous Gentleman, is not worthy of any honor or reſpect.
MAdam Lauretta, ſitting next to Philostratus, when ſhe had heard the
witty conceite of Bergamino; knowing, that ſhee was to ſay ſomewhat,
without iniunction or command, pleaſantly thus began.
This laſt diſcourſe (faire and vertuous company) induceth mee to tell
you, how an honeſt Courtier reprehended in like manner (and nothing
vnprofitably) baſe couetouſneſſe in a Merchant of extraordinary wealth.
Which Tale, although (in effect) it may ſeeme to reſemble the former;
yet perhaps, it will proue no leſſe pleaſing to you, in regard it ſorted to
as good an end.
It is no long time ſince, that there liued in Genes or Geneway, a Gentleman
named Signior Herminio de Grimaldi, who (as euery one wel knew)
was more rich in inheritances, and ready ſummes of currant mony, then
any other knowne Citizen in Italy. And as hee ſurpaſſed other men in
wealth, ſo did he likewiſe excell them in wretched Auarice, being ſo miſerably
greedy and couetous, as no man in the world could be more wicked
that way; becauſe, not onely he kept his purſe lockt vp from pleaſuring
any, but denied needful things to himſelf, enduring many miſeries &
diſtreſſes, onely to auoide expences, contrary to the Genewayes generall
cuſtome, who alwayes delighted to be decently cloathed, and to haue
their dyet of the beſt. By reaſon of which moſt miſerable baſeneſſe, they
tooke from him the ſir-name of Grimaldi, whereof hee was in right deſcended:
and called him maſter Herminio the couetous Mizer, a nickname
very notably agreeing with his gripple nature.
It came to paſſe, that in this time of his ſpending nothing, but multiplying
daily by infinite meanes, that a ciuill honeſt Gentleman (a Courtier,
of ready wit, and diſcourſiue in Languages) came to Geneway, being
named Guillaume Bourſier. A man very farre differing from diuers
Courtiers in theſe dayes, who for ſoothing ſhamefull and graceleſſe maners,
in ſuch as allow them maintenance, are called and reputed to bee
Gentlemen, yea eſpeciall fauourites: whereas much more worthily, they
ſhould be accounted as knaues and villaines, being borne and bred in all
filthineſſe, and skilfull in euery kinde of baſeſt behauiour, not fit to come
in Princes Courts. For, whereas in paſſed times, they ſpent their dayes
and paines in making peace, when Gentlemen were at warre or diſſention,
or treating on honeſt marriages, betweene friends and familiars, &
(with louing ſpeeches) would recreate diſturbed mindes, deſiring none
but commendable exerciſes in Court, and ſharpely reproouing (like fathers)
diſordred life, or ill actions in any, albeit with recompence little,
or none at all: theſe vpſtarts now adayes, employ all their paines in detractions,
ſowing queſtions and quarrels betweene one another, making
no ſpare of lyes & falſhoods. Nay which is worſe, they will do this in the
preſence of any man, vpbraiding him with iniuries, ſhames, and ſcandals
(true or not true) vpon the very leaſt occaſion. And by falſe and deceitfull
flatteries and villanies of their own inuenting, they make Gentlemen
to become as vile as themſelues. For which deteſtable qualities, they are
better beloued and reſpected of theyr miſdemeanor'd Lords, and recompenced
in more bountiful manner, then men of vertuous carriage and deſert.
Which is an argument ſufficient, that goodneſſe is gone vp to heauen,
and hath quite forſaken theſe loathed lower Regions, where men are
drowned in the mud of all abhominable vices.
But returning where I left (being led out of my way by a iuſt and religious
anger againſt ſuch deformity) this Gentleman, Maſter Guillaume
Bourſier, was willingly ſeene, and gladly welcommed by all the beſt men
in Geneway. Hauing remayned ſome few dayes in the City, & (among
other matters, heard much talke of the miſerable couetouſnes of maſter
Herminio, he grew verie deſirous to haue a ſight of him. Maſter Herminio
had already vnderſtood, that this Gentleman, Maſter Guillaume Bourſier,
was vertuouſly diſpoſed, and (how couetouſly ſoeuer he was inclined) hauing
in him ſome ſparkes of noble nature; gaue him very good words, and
gracious entertainement, diſcourſing with him on diuers occaſions.
In company of other Genewayes with him, h
•
brought him to a new
erected houſe of his, a building of great coſt and beauty, where, after he
had ſhewen him all the variable rarities, he beganne thus. Maſter Guillaume,
no doubt but you haue heard and ſeene many things, and you can
inſtruct me in ſome quaint conceit or deuiſe, to be fairely figured in painting,
at the entrance into the great Hall of my Houſe. Maſter Guillaume
hearing him ſpeake ſo ſimply, returned him this anſwere; Sir, I cannot aduiſe
you in any thing, ſo rare or vnſeen as you talke of: but how to ſneeze
(after a new manner) vpon a full and ouercloyed ſtomacke, to auoide
baſe humours that ſtupifie the braine, or other matters of the like quality.
But if you would be taught a good one indeede, and had a diſpoſition to
ſee it fairely effected; I could inſtruct you in an excellent Embleme, wherwith
(as yet) you neuer came acquainted.
Maſter Herminio hearing him ſay ſo, and expecting no ſuch anſwere as
he had ſaide; Good Maſter Guillaume, tell me what it is, and on my faith
I will haue it fairely painted. Whereto Maſter Guillaume ſuddenly replied:
Doe nothing but this Sir; Paint ouer the Portall at your Halles entrance,
the liuely picture of Liberality, to bid all your friends better welcome,
then hitherto they haue beene. When Maſter Herminio heard
theſe words, he became poſſeſſed with ſuch a ſudden ſhame, that his complexion
changed from the former paleneſſe, and anſwered thus. Maſter
Guillaume, I will haue your aduice ſo truly figured ouer my gate, and ſhee
ſhall giue ſo good welcome to all my gueſts, that both you, and all theſe
Gentlemen ſhall ſay; I haue both ſeene her, and am become reaſonably
acquainted with her. From that time forward, the words of Maſter Guillaume
were ſo effectuall with Signior Herminio, that he became the moſt
bountifull and beſt houſe-keeper, which liued in his time in Geneway; no
man more honouring and friendly welcoming both ſtrangers and Citizens,
then he continually vſed to doe.
The King of Cyprus was wittily reprehended, by the words of a Gentlewoman of Gaſcoignie, and became vertuouſly altered from his vicious diſpoſition.
The ninth Nouell.
Giuing all men to vnderſtand, that Iustice is neceſſary in a King, aboue all things elſe whatſoeuer.
THe laſt command of the Queene, remained vpon Madam Eliſſa, or
Eliza, who without any delaying, thus beganne. Young Ladies, it
hath often beene ſeene, that much paine hath beene beſtowed, and many
reprehenſions ſpent in vaine, till a word happening at aduenture, and perhaps
not purpoſely determined, hath effectually done the deede: as appeareth
by the Tale of Madam Lauretta, and another of mine owne,
wherewith I intend briefly to acquaint you, approuing, that when good
words are diſcreetly obſerued, they are of ſoueraigne power and vertue.
In the dayes of the firſt King of Cyprus, after the Conqueſt made in the
holy Land by Godfrey of Bullen, it fortuned, that a Gentlewoman of Gaſcoignie,
trauelling in pilgrimage, to viſit the ſacred Sepulcher in Ieruſalem,
returning home againe, arriued at Cyprus, where ſhee was villanouſly
abuſed by certaine baſe wretches. Complaining thereof, without
any comfort or redreſſe, ſhee intended to make her moane to the King of
the Countrey. Whereupon it was tolde her, that therein ſhee ſhould
but looſe her labour, becauſe hee was ſo womaniſh, and faint-hearted;
that not onely he refuſed to puniſh with iuſtice the offences of others, but
alſo ſuffered ſhamefull iniuries done to himſelfe. And therefore, ſuch as
were diſpleaſed by his negligence, might eaſily diſcharge their ſpleene
againſt him, and doe him what diſhonour they would.
When the Gentlewoman heard this, deſpairing of any conſolation,
or reuenge for her wrongs, ſhee reſolued to checke the Kings deniall of
iuſtice, and comming before him weeping, ſpake in this manner. Sir, I
preſume not into your preſence, as hoping to haue redreſſe by you, for
diuers diſhonourable iniuries done vnto me; but, as a full ſatisfaction for
them, doe but teach me how you ſuffer ſuch vile abuſes, as daily are offered
to your ſelfe. To the ende, that being therein inſtructed by you, I may
the more patiently beare mine owne; which (as God knoweth) I would
beſtow on you very gladly, becauſe you know ſo well how to endure
them.
The King, who (till then) had beene very bad, dull, and ſlothfull,
euen as ſleeping out his time of gouernement; beganne to reuenge the
wrongs done to this Gentlewoman very ſeuerely, and (thence forward)
became a moſt ſharpe Iuſticer, for the leaſt offence offered againſt the
honour of his Crowne, or to any of his ſubiects beſide.
Maſter Albert of Bullen, honeſtly made a Lady to bluſh, that thought to haue done as much to him, becauſe ſhee perceiued him, to be amorouſly affected towards her.
The tenth Nouell.
Wherein is declared, that honeſt loue agreeth with people of all ages.
AFter that Madam Eliza ſate ſilent, the laſt charge and labour of the
like employment, remained to the Queene her ſelfe; whereupon ſhee
beganne thus to ſpeake: Honeſt and vertuous young Ladies, like as the
Sta
•
res (when the Ayre is faire and cleere) are the adorning and beauty
of Heauen, and flowres (while the Spring time laſteth) doe graciouſly embelliſh
the Meadowes; euen ſo ſweete ſpeeches and pleaſing conferences,
to paſſe the time with commendable diſcourſes, are the beſt habit of the
minde, and an outward beauty to the body: which ornament of words,
when they appeare to be ſhort and ſweete, are much more ſeemely in
women, then in men; becauſe long and tedious talking (when it may be
done in leſſer time) is a greater blemiſh in women, then in men.
Among vs women, this day, I thinke few or none haue therein offended,
but as readily haue vnderſtood ſhort and pithy ſpeeches, as they haue
beene quicke and quaintly deliuered. But when anſwering ſuteth not
with vnderſtanding, it is generally a ſhame in vs, and all ſuch as liue; becauſe
our moderne times haue conuerted that vertue, which was within
them who liued before vs, into garments of the bodie, and ſhew
whoſe habites were noted to bee moſt gaudie, fulleſt of imbroyderies
and fantaſtick faſhions: ſhe was reputed to haue moſt matter in her, and
therefore to be more honoured and eſteemed. Neuer conſidering, that
whoſoeuer loadeth the backe of an Aſſe, or puts vpon him the richeſt
brauerie; he becommeth not thereby a iote the wiſer, or merriteth any
more honour then an Aſſe ſhould haue. I am aſhamed to ſpeake it, becauſe
in detecting other, I may (perhaps) as iuſtly taxe my ſelfe.
Such imbroydered bodies, tricked and trimmed in ſuch boaſting
brauery, are they any thing elſe but as Marble Statues, dumbe, dull, and
vtterly inſenſible? Or if (perchaunce) they make an anſwere, when ſome
queſtion is demaunded of them; it were much better for them to be ſilent.
For defence of honeſt deuiſe and conference among men and women,
they would haue the world to thinke, that it proceedeth but from ſimplicity
and preciſe opinion, couering their owne folly with the name of honeſty:
as if there were no other honeſt woman, but ſhee that conferres
onely with her Chamber-maide, Laundreſſe, or Kitchin-woman, as if nature
had allowed them (in their owne idle conceite) no other kinde of
talking.
Moſt true it is, that as there is a reſpect to be vſed in the action of other
things; ſo, time and place are neceſſarily to be conſidered, and alſo whom
we conuerſe withall; becauſe ſometimes it happeneth, that a man or woman,
intending (by a word of ieſt and merriment) to make another body
bluſh or be aſhamed: not knowing what ſtrength of wit remaineth in
the oppoſite, doe conuert the ſame diſgrace vpon themſelues. Therefore,
that we may the more aduiſedly ſtand vpon our owne guard, and to
preuent the common prouerbe, That Women (in all things) make choyſe of
the woorſt: I deſire that this dayes laſt tale, which is to come from my
ſelfe, may make vs all wiſe. To the end, that as in gentleneſſe of minde
we conferre with other; ſo by excellency in good manners, we may ſhew
our ſelues not inferiour to them.
It is not many yeares ſince (worthy aſſembly) that in Bulloigne there
dwelt a learned Phyſitian, a man famous for skill, and farre renowned,
whoſe name was Maſter Albert, and being growne aged, to the eſtimate
of threeſcore and tenne yeares: hee had yet ſuch a ſprightly diſpoſition,
that though naturall heate and vigour had quite ſhaken hands with him,
yet amorous flames and deſires had not wholly forſaken him. Hauing
ſeene (at a Banquet) a very beautifull woman, being then in the eſtate of
widdowhood, named (as ſome ſay) Madame Margaret de Chiſolieri, ſhee
appeared ſo pleaſing in his eye; that his ſences became no leſſe diſturbed,
then as if he had beene of farre younger temper, and no night could
any quietneſſe poſſeſſe his ſoule, except (the day before) he had ſeene the
ſweet countenance of this louely widdow. In regard whereof, his dayly
paſſage was by her doore, one while on horſebacke, and then againe on
foote; as beſt might declare his plaine purpoſe to ſee her.
Both ſhee and other Gentlewomen, perceiuing the occaſion of his
paſſing and repaſſing; would priuately ieſt thereat together, to ſee a man
of ſuch yeares and diſcretion, to be amorouſly addicted, or ouer-ſwayed
by effeminate paſſions. For they were partly perſwaded, that ſuch wanton
Ague fits of Loue, were fit for none but youthfull apprehenſions, as
beſt agreeing with their chearefull complexion. Maſter Albert continuing
his dayly walkes by the widdowes lodging, it chaunced vpon a Feaſtiuall
day, that ſhee (accompanied with diuers other women of great account)
being ſitting at her doore; eſpied Maſter Albert (farre off) comming
thitherward, and a reſolued determination among themſelues was
ſet downe, to allow him fauourable entertainement, and to ieſt (in ſome
merry manner) at his louing folly, as afterward they did indeede.
No ſooner was he come neere, but they all aroſe, and courteouſly inuited
him to enter with them, conducting him into a goodly Garden,
where readily was prepared choyſe of delicate wines and banquetting.
At length, among other pleaſant and delightfull diſcourſes, they demanded
of him: how it was poſſible for him, to be amorouſly affected towards
ſo beautifull a woman, both knowing and ſeeing, how earneſtly ſhe
was ſollicited by many gracious, gallant, and youthfull ſpirits, ap
•
ly ſuting
with her yeares and deſires? Maſter Albert perceiuing, that they had
drawne him in among them, onely to ſcoffe and make a mockery of him;
ſet a merry countenance on the matter, and honeſtly thus anſwered.
Beleeue mee Gentlewoman (ſpeaking to the widdowe her ſelfe) it
ſhould not appeare ſtrange to any of wiſedome and diſcretion, that I am
amorouſly enclined, and eſpecially to you, becauſe you are well worthy
of it. And although thoſe powers, which naturally appertaine to the exerciſes
of Loue, are bereft and gone from aged people; yet good will
thereto cannot be taken from them, neither iudgement to know ſuch as
deſerue to be affected: for, by how much they exceede youth in knowledge
and experience, by ſo much the more hath nature made them meet
for reſpect and reuerence. The hope which incited me (being aged) to
loue you, that are affected of ſo many youthfull Gallants, grew thus. I
haue often chaunced into diuers places, where I haue ſeene Ladies and
Gentlewomen, being diſpoſed to a Collation or rere-banquet after dinner,
to feede on Lupines, and young Onions or Leekes, and although it
may be ſo, that there is little or no goodneſſe at all in them; yet the heads
of them are leaſt hurtfull, and moſt pleaſing in the mouth. And you
Gentlewomen generally (guided by vnreaſonable appetite) will hold the
heads of them in your hands, and feede vpon the blades or ſtalkes: which
not onely are not good for any thing, but alſo are of very bad ſauour. And
what know I (Lady) whether among the choiſe of friends, it may fit your
fancy to doe the like? For, if you did ſo, it were no fault of mine to be
choſen of you, but thereby were all the reſt of your ſuters the ſooner anſwered.
The widdowed Gentlewoman, and all the reſt in her company, being
baſhfully aſhamed of her owne and their folly, preſently ſaid. Maſter
Albert, you haue both well and worthily chaſtiſed our ouer-bold preſumption,
and beleeue mee Sir, I repute your loue and kindneſſe of no
meane merrit, comming from a man ſo wiſe and vertuous: And therefore
(mine honour reſerued) commaund my vttermoſt, as alwayes ready
to do you any honeſt ſeruice. Maſter Albert, ariſing from his ſeat, thanking
the faire widdow for her gentle offer; tooke leaue of her and all the company,
and ſhe bluſhing, as all the reſt were therein in not much behinde her,
thinking to checke him, became chidden her ſelfe, whereby (if wee be
wiſe) let vs all take warning.
The Sunne was now ſomewhat farre declined, and the heates extremity
well worne away, when the Tales of the ſeauen Ladies and three
Gentlemen were thus finiſhed, whereupon their Queene pleaſantly ſaid.
For this day (faire company) there remaineth nothing more to be done
vnder my regiment, but onely to beſtow a new Queene vpon you, who
(according to her iudgement) muſt take her turne, and diſpoſe what next
is to be done, for continuing our time in honeſt pleaſure. And although
the day ſhould endure till darke night; in regard, that when ſome time is
taken before, the better preparation may be made for occaſions to follow,
to the end alſo, that whatſoeuer the new Queene ſhall pleaſe to appoint,
may be the better fitted for the morrow: I am of opinion, that at
the ſame houre as we now ceaſe, the following dayes ſhall ſeuerally begin.
And therefore, in reuerence to him that giueth life to all things, and
in hope of comfort by our ſecond day; Madame Philomena, a moſt wiſe
young Lady, ſhall gouerne as Queene this our Kingdome.
So ſoone as ſhe had thus ſpoken, ariſing from her ſeate of dignity, and
taking the Lawrell Crowne from off her owne head; ſhe reuerently placed
it vpon Madame Philomenaes, ſhe firſt of all humbly ſaluting her, and
then all the reſt, openly confeſſing her to be their Queene, made gracious
offer to obey whatſoeuer ſhe commaunded. Philomena, her cheekes
deliuering a ſcarlet tincture, to ſee her ſelfe thus honoured as their
Queene, and well remembring the words, ſo lately vttered by Madame
Pampinea; that dulneſſe or neglect might not be noted in her, tooke
cheerefull courage to her, and firſt of all, ſhe confirmed the officers, which
Pampinea had appointed the day before, then ſhee ordained for the morrowes
prouiſion, as alſo for the ſupper ſo neere approaching, before they
departed away from thence, and then thus began.
Louely Companions, although that Madam Pampinea, more in her
owne courteſie, then any matter of merit remaining in mee, hath made
me your Queene: I am not determined, to alter the forme of our intended
life, nor to be guided by mine owne iudgement, but to aſſociate the
ſame with your aſſiſtance. And becauſe you may know what I intend
to do, and ſo (conſequently) adde or diminiſh at your pleaſure; in verie
few words, you ſhall plainly vnderſtand my meaning. If you haue well
conſidered on the courſe, which this day hath bene kept by Madam Pampinea,
me thinkes it hath bene very pleaſing and commendable; in which
regard, vntill by ouer-tedious continuation, or other occaſions of irkeſome
offence, it ſhall ſeeme iniurious, I am of the minde, not to alter it.
Holding on the order then as we haue begun to do, we will depart from
hence to recreate our ſelues awhile, and when the Sun groweth towards
ſetting, we will ſup in the freſh and open ayre: afterward, with Canzonets
and other paſtimes, we will out-weare the houres till bed time. To
morrow morning, in the freſh and gentle breath thereof, we will riſe &
walke to ſuch places, as euery one ſhall finde fitteſt for them, euen as already
this day we haue done; vntill due time ſhall ſummon vs hither againe,
to continue our diſcourſiue Tales, wherein (me thinkes) conſiſteth
both pleaſure and profit, eſpecially by diſcreete obſeruation.
Very true it is, that ſome things which Madam Pampinea coulde not
accompliſh, by reaſon of her ſo ſmall time of authority, I will beginne to
vndergo, to wit, in reſtraining ſome matters whereon we are to ſpeake,
that better premeditation may paſſe vpon them. For, when reſpite and
a little leyſure goeth before them, each diſcourſe will ſauour of the more
formality; and if it might ſo pleaſe you, thus would I direct the order.
As ſince the beginning of the world, all men haue bene guided (by Fortune)
thorow diuers accidents and occaſions: ſo beyond all hope & expectation,
the iſſue and ſucceſſe hath bin good and ſuccesfull, and accordingly
ſhould euery one of our arguments be choſen.
The Ladies, and the yong Gentlemen likewiſe, commended her aduice,
and promiſed to imitate it; onely Dioneus excepted, who when euery
one was ſilent, ſpake thus. Madam, I ſay as all the reſt haue done,
that the order by you appointed, is moſt pleaſing and worthy to bee allowed.
But I intreate one ſpeciall fauour for my ſelfe, and to haue it confirmed
to me, ſo long as our company continueth; namely, that I may
not be conſtrained to this Law of direction, but to tell my Tale at liberty,
after mine owne minde, and according to the freedome firſt inſtituted.
And becauſe no one ſhall imagine, that I vrge this grace of you, as
being vnfurniſhed of diſcourſes in this kinde, I am well contented to be
the laſt in euery dayes exerciſe.
The Queene, knowing him to be a man full of mirth and matter, began
to conſider very aduiſedly, that he would not haue mooued this requeſt,
but onely to the end, that if the company grew wearied by any of
the Tales re-counted, hee would ſhut vppe the dayes diſport with ſome
mirthfull accident. Wherefore willingly, and with conſent of al the reſt
he had his ſuite granted. So, ariſing all, they walked to a Chriſtall riuer,
deſcending downe a little hill into a vally, graciouſly ſhaded with goodly
Trees; where waſhing both their hands and feete, much pretty pleaſure
paſſed among them; till ſupper time drawing nere, made them returne
home to the Palace. When ſupper was ended, and bookes and inſtruments
being laide before them, the Queene commanded a dance, &
that Madam Aemilia, aſſiſted by Madam Lauretta and Dioneus, ſhold ſing
a ſweet ditty. At which command, Lauretta vndertooke the dance, and
led it, Aemilia ſinging this ſong enſuing.
The Song.
SO much delight my beauty yeelds to mee,
That any other Loue,
To wiſh or proue;
Can neuer ſute it ſelfe with my deſire.
Therein I ſee, vpon good obſeruation,
What ſweete content due vnderstanding lends:
Olde or new thoughts cannot in any faſhion
Rob me of that, which mine owne ſoule commends.
What obiect then,
(mongst infinites of men)
Can I euer finde
to dipoſſeſſe my minde,
And plant therein another new deſire?
So much delight. &c.
But were it ſo, the bliſſe that I would chuſe,
Is, by continuall ſight to comfort me:
So rare a preſence neuer to refuſe,
Which mortall tongue or thought, what ere it be;
Muſt ſtill conceale,
not able to reueale,
Such a ſacred ſweete,
for none other meete,
But hearts enflamed with the ſame deſire.
So much delight, &c.
The Song being ended, the Chorus whereof was aunſwered by them
all, it paſſed with generall applauſe: and after a few other daunces, the
night being well run on, the Queene gaue ending to this firſt dayes Recreation.
So, lights being brought, they departed to their ſeuerall Lodgings,
to take their reſt till the next morning.
The End of the firſt Day.
The Second Day.
Wherein, all the Diſcourſes are vnder the gouernment of Madam Philomena: Concerning ſuch men or women, as (in diuers accidents) haue beene much mollested by Fortune, and yet afterward (contrary to their hope and expectation, haue had a happy and ſucceſſefull deliuerance.
ALready had the bright Sunne renewed the day euery
where with his ſplendant beames, and the
Birds ſate merrily ſinging on the blooming branches,
yeelding teſtimony thereof to the eares of
all hearers; when the ſeuen Ladies, and the three
Gentlemen (after they were riſen) entered the
Gardens, and there ſpent ſome time in walking, as
alſo making of Noſe-gayes and Chaplets of Flowers.
And euen as they had done the day before,
ſo did they now follow the ſame courſe; for, after they had dined, in a
coole and pleaſing aire they fell to dancing, and then went to ſleepe awhile,
from which being awaked, they tooke their places (according as
it pleaſed the Queene to appoint) in the ſame faire Meadow about her.
And ſhe, being a goodly creature, and highly pleaſing to beholde, hauing
put on her Crowne of Laurell, and giuing a gracious countenance
to the whole company; commanding Madam Neiphila that her Tale
ſhould begin this daies delight. Whereupon ſhe, without returning any
excuſe or deniall, began in this manner.
Martellino counterfetting to be lame of his members, cauſed himſelfe to be ſet on the body of Saint Arriguo, where he made ſhew of his ſudden recouery; but when his diſsimulation was diſcouered, he was well beaten, being afterward taken priſoner, and in great danger of being hanged and ſtrangled by the necke, and yet he eſcaped in the ende.
The firſt Nouell.
Wherein is ſignified, how eaſie a thing it is, for wicked men to deceiue the world, vnder the ſhadow and colour of miracles: and that ſuch trechery (oftentimes) redoundeth to the harme of the deuiſer.
FAire Ladies, it hath happened many times, that hee who ſtriueth to
ſcorne and floute other men, and eſpecially in occaſions deſeruing to
be reſpected, proueth to mocke himſelfe with the ſelfe-ſame matter, yea,
and to his no meane danger beſide. As you ſhall perceiue by a Tale,
which I intend to tell you, obeying therein the command of our Queene,
and according to the ſubiect by her enioyned. In which diſcourſe, you
may firſt obſerue, what great miſchance happened to one of our Citizens;
and yet afterward, how (beyond all hope) he happily eſcaped.
Not long ſince there liued in the City of Treuers,
Or Arrigo. an Almaine or Germaine,
named Arriguo, who being a poore man, ſerued as a Porter, or burden-bearer
for money, when any man pleaſed to employ him. And yet,
notwithſtanding his poore and meane condition, he was generally reputed,
to be of good and ſanctified life. In which regard (whether it were
true or no, I know not) it happened, that when he died (at leaſt, as the
men of Treuers themſelues affirmed) in the very inſtant houre of his departing,
all the Belles in the great Church of Treuers, (not being pulled
by the helpe of any hand) beganne to ring: which being accounted for a
miracle, euery one ſaide; that this Arriguo had been, and was a Saint. And
preſently all the people of the City ran to the houſe where the dead body
lay, and carried it (as a ſanctified body) into the great Church, where people,
halt, lame, and blinde, or troubled with any other diſeaſes, were
brought about it, euen as if euery one ſhould forth-with be holpen, onely
by their touching the bodie.
It came to paſſe; that in ſo great a concourſe of people, as reſorted thither
from all parts; three of our Cittizens went to Treuers, one of them
being named Stechio, the ſecond Martellino, and the third Marquiſo, all
being men of ſuch condition, as frequented Princes Courts, to giue them
delight by pleaſant & counterfeited qualities. None of theſe men hauing
euer beene at Treuers before, ſeeing how the people crowded thorow the
ſtreetes, wondred greatly thereat: but when they knew the reaſon, why
the throngs ranne on heapes in ſuch ſort together, they grew as deſirous
to ſee the Shrine, as any of the reſt. Hauing ordered all affaires at their
lodging, Marquiſo ſaide; It is fit for vs to ſee this Saint, but I know not
how we ſhall attaine thereto, becauſe (as I haue heard) the place is guarded
by Germane Souldiers, and other warlike men, commanded thither
by the Gouernours of this City, leaſt any outrage ſhould be there committed:
And beſide, the Church is ſo full of people, as wee ſhall neuer
compaſſe to get neere. Martellino being alſo as forward in deſire to ſee
it, preſently replied: All this difficulty cannot diſmay me, but I will goe to
the very body of the Saint it ſelfe. But how? quoth Marquiſo. I will tell
thee, anſwered Martellino. I purpoſe to goe in the diſguiſe of an impotent
lame perſon, ſupported on the one ſide by thy ſelfe, and on the other by
Stechio, as if I were not able to walke of my ſelfe: And you two thus ſuſtaining
me, deſiring to come neere the Saint to cure me; euery one will
make way, and freely giue you leaue to goe on.
This deuiſe was very pleaſing to Marquiſo and Stechio, ſo that (without
any further delaying) they all three left their lodging, and reſorting into
a ſecret corner aſide, Martellino ſo writhed and miſhaped his hands, fingers,
and armes, his legges, mouth, eyes, and whole countenance, that it
was a dreadfull ſight to looke vpon him, and whoſoeuer beheld him,
would verily haue imagined, that hee was vtterly lame of his limbes, and
greatly deformed in his body. Marquiſo and Stechio, ſeeing all ſorted ſo
well as they could wiſh, tooke and led him towards the Church, making
very pitious moane, and humbly deſiring (for Gods ſake) of euery one
that they met, to grant them free paſſage, whereto they charitably condiſcended.
Thus leading him on, crying ſtill; Beware there before, and giue way
for Gods ſake, they arriued at the body of Saint Arriguo, that (by his helpe)
he might be healed. And while all eyes were diligently obſeruing, what
miracle would be wrought on Martellino, hee hauing ſitten a ſmall ſpace
vpon the Saints bodie, and being ſufficiently skilfull in counterfeiting; beganne
firſt to extend for the one of his fingers, next his hand, then his
arme, and ſo (by degrees) the reſt of his body. Which when the people
ſaw, they made ſuch a wonderfull noyſe in praiſe of Saint Arriguo, euen
as if it had thundered in the Chu
•
ch.
Now it chanced by ill fortune, that there ſtood a Florentine neere to
the body, who knew Martellino very perfectly; but appearing ſo monſtrouſly
miſhapen, when he was brought into the Church, hee could take no
knowledge of him. But when he ſaw him ſtand vp and walke, hee knew
him then to be the man indeede; whereupon he ſaide: How commeth it
to paſſe, that this fellow ſhould be ſo miraculouſly cured, that neuer truly
was any way impotent? Certaine men of the City hearing theſe words,
entred into further queſtioning with him, demanding, how he knew that
the man had no ſuch imperfection? Well enough (anſwered the Florentine)
I know him to be as direct in his limbes and body, as you; I, or any
of vs all are: but indeede, he knowes better how to diſſemble counterfet
trickes, then any man elſe that euer I ſaw.
When they heard this, they diſcourſed no further with the Florentine,
but preſſed on mainely to the place where Martellino ſtood, crying out aloude.
Lay holde on this Traytor, a mocker of God, and his holy Saints,
that had no lameneſſe in his limbes; but to make a mocke of our Saint and
vs, came hither in falſe and counterfet manner. So laying hands vppon
him, they threw him againſt the ground, haling him by the haire on his
head, and tearing the garments from his backe, ſpurning him vvith their
feete, and beating him with their fiſts, that many were much aſhamed to
ſee it.
Poore Martellino was in a pittifull caſe, crying out for mercy, but no
man would heare him; for, the more he cried, the more ſtil they did beat
him, as meaning to leaue no life in him, which Stechio and Marquiſo ſeeing,
conſidered with themſelues, that they were likewiſe in a deſperate
caſe; and therfore, fearing to be as much miſvſed, they cryed out among
the reſt; Kill the counterfet knaue, lay on loade, and ſpare him not; neuertheleſſe,
they tooke care how to get him out of the peoples handes,
as doubting, leaſt they would kill him indeede, by their extreame violence.
Sodainly, Marquiſo bethought him how to do it, and proceeded thus.
All the Sergeants for Iuſtice ſtanding at the Church doore, hee ran with
all poſſible ſpeede to the Potestates Lieutenant, and ſaid vnto him. Good
my Lord Iuſtice, helpe me in an hard caſe; yonder is a villaine that hath
cut my purſe, I deſire he may bee brought before you, that I may haue
my money againe. He hearing this, ſent for a dozen of the Sergeants,
who went to apprehend vnhappy Martellino, and recouer him from the
peoples fury, leading him on with them to the Palace, no meane crowds
thronging after him, when they heard that he was accuſed to bee a Cutpurſe.
Now durſt they meddle no more with him, but aſſiſted the Officers;
ſome of them charging him in like manner, that he had cut theyr
purſes alſo.
Vpon theſe clamours and complaints, the Potestates Lieutenant (being
a man of rude quality) tooke him ſodainly aſide, and examined him
of the crimes wherewith he was charged. But Martellino, as making no
account of theſe accuſations, laughed, and returned ſcoffing anſweres.
Whereat the Iudge, waxing much diſpleaſed, deliuered him ouer to the
Strappado, and ſtood by himſelfe, to haue him confeſſe the crimes impoſed
on him, and then to hang him afterward. Beeing let downe to the
ground, the Iudge ſtill demaunded of him, whether the accuſations againſt
him were true, or no? Affirming, that it nothing auayled him to
deny it: whereupon hee thus ſpake to the Iudge. My Lord, I am heere
ready before you, to confeſſe the truth; but I pray you, demaund of all
them that accuſe me, when and where I did cut their purſes, & then I wil
tell you that, which (as yet) I haue not done, otherwiſe I purpoſe to make
you no more anſwers.
Well (quoth the Iudge) thou requireſt but reaſon; & calling diuers
of the accuſers, one of them ſaide, that he loſt his purſe eight dayes before;
another ſaide ſix, another foure, and ſome ſaide the very ſame day.
Which Martellino hearing, replyed. My Lord, they al lie in their throats,
as I will plainly proue before you. I would to God I had neuer ſet foote
within this City, as it is not many houres ſince my firſt entrance, and preſently
after mine arriuall, I went (in an euill houre I may ſay for me) to ſee
the Saints body, where I was thus beaten as you may beholde. That all
this is true which I ſay vnto you, the Seigneuries Officer that keeps your
Booke of preſentations, will teſtifie for me, as alſo the Hoſt where I am
lodged. Wherefore good my Lord, if you finde all no otherwiſe, then
as I haue ſaid, I humbly entreate you, that vpon theſe bad mens reportes
and falſe informations, I may not be thus tormented, and put in perill of
my life.
While matters proceeded in this manner, Marquiſo and Stechio, vnderſtanding
how roughly the Potestates Lieutenant dealt with Martellino
and that he had already giuen him the Strappado; were in heauy perplexity,
ſaying to themſelues; we haue carried this buſineſſe very badly,
redeeming him out of the Frying-pan, and flinging him into the Fire.
Whereupon, trudging about from place to place, & meeting at length
with their Hoſt, they told him truly how all had happened, whereat hee
could not refraine from laughing. Afterward, he went with them to one
Maſter Alexander Agolante, who dwelt in Treuers, and was in great credite
with the Cities cheefe Magiſtrate, to whom hee related the whole
Diſcourſe; all three earneſtly entreating him, to commiſſerate the caſe
of poore Martellino.
Maſter Alexander, after he had laughed heartily at this hotte peece of
ſeruice, went with him to the Lord of Treuers; preuailing ſo vvell with
him, that he ſent to haue Martellino brought before him. The Meſſengers
that went for him, found him ſtanding in his ſhirt before the Iudge, very
ſhrewdly ſhaken with the Strappado, trembling and quaking pittifully.
For the Iudge would not heare any thing in his excuſe; but hating him
(perhaps) becauſe hee was a Florentine: flatly determined to haue him
hangde by the necke, and would not deliuer him to the Lorde, vntill in
meere deſpight he was compeld to do it.
The Lord of Treuers, when Martellino came before him, and had acquainted
him truly with euery particular: Maſter Alexander requeſted,
that he might be diſpatched thence for Florence, becauſe he thought the
halter to be about his necke, and that there was no other helpe but hanging.
The Lord, ſmiling (a long while) at the accident, & cauſing Martellino
to be handſomely apparrelled, deliuering them alſo his Paſſe, they
eſcaped out of further danger, and tarried no where, till they came vnto
Florence.
Rinaldo de Eſte, after he was robbed by Theeues, arriued at Chastea
•
Guillaume, where he was friendly lodged by a faire widdow, and recompenced likewiſe for all his loſſes; returning afterward ſafe and well home vnto his owne houſe.
The ſecond Nouell.
Whereby wee may learne, that ſuch things as ſometime ſeeme hurtfull to vs, may turne to our benefit and commodity.
MVch merriment was among the Ladies, hearing this Tale of Martellinos
misfortunes, ſo familiarly reported by Madam Neiphila, and
of the men, it was beſt reſpected by Philoſtratus, who ſitting neereſt vnto
Neiphila, the Queene commanded his Tale to be the next, when preſently
he began to ſpeake thus.
Gracious Ladies, I am to ſpeake of vniuerſall occaſions, mingled with
ſome misfortunes in part, and partly with matters leaning to loue: as many
times may happen to ſuch people, that trace the dangerous pathes of
amorous deſires, or haue not learned perfectly, to ſay S. Iulians pater noſter,
hauing good beds of their owne, yet (caſually) meete with worſer
lodging.
In the time of Azzo, Marqueſſe of Ferrara, there was a Marchant named
Rinaldo de Eſte, who being one day at Bologna, about ſome eſpeciall
buſineſſe of his owne; his occaſions there ended, and riding from thence
towards Verona, he fell in company with other Horſemen, ſeeming to be
Merchants like himſelfe; but indeede were Theeues, men of moſt badde
life and conuerſation; yet he hauing no ſuch miſtruſt of them, rode on,
conferring with them very familiarly. They perceiuing him to be a Merchant,
and likely to haue ſome ſtore of money about him, concluded betweene
themſelues to rob him, ſo ſoone as they found apt place and opportunity.
But becauſe he ſhould conceiue no ſuch ſuſpition, they rode
on like modeſt men, talking honeſtly & friendly with him, of good parts
and diſpoſition appearing in him, offering him all humble and gracious
ſeruice, accounting themſelues happy by his companie, as hee returned
the ſame courteſie to them, becauſe he was alone, and but one ſeruant
with him.
Falling from one diſcourſe to another, they began to talke of ſuch
prayers, as men (in iourney) vſe to ſalute God withall; and one of the
Theeues (they being three in number, ſpake thus to Rinaldo. Sir, let it be
no offence to you, that I deſire to know, what prayer you moſt vſe when
thus you trauell on the way? Whereto Rinaldo replyed in this manner.
To tell you true Sir, I am a man groſſe enough in ſuch Diuine matters,
as medling more with Marchandize, then I do with Bookes. Neuertheleſſe,
at all times when I am thus in iourney, in the morning before I depart
my Chamber, I ſay a Pater noſter and an Aue Maria, for the ſouls of
the father and mother of Saint Iulian, and after that, I pray God and S.
Iulian to ſend me a good lodging at night. And let me tell you Sir, that
very oftentimes heeretofore, I haue met with many great dangers vpon
the way, from all which I ſtill eſcaped, and euermore (when night drewe
on) I came to an exceeding good Lodging. Which makes mee firmely
beleeue, that Saint Iulian (in honour of whom I ſpeake it) hath begd of
God ſuch great grace for me; and mee thinkes, that if any day I ſhould
faile of this prayer in the morning: I cannot trauaile ſecurely, nor come
to a good lodging. No doubt then Sir (quoth the other) but you haue
ſaide that prayer this morning? I would be ſory elſe, ſaide Rinaldo, ſuch an
eſpeciall matter is not to be neglected.
He and the reſt, who had already determined how to handle him before
they parted, ſaide within themſelues: Looke thou haſt ſaid thy praier,
for when we haue thy money, Saint Iulian and thou ſhift for thy lodging.
Afterward, the ſame man thus againe conferd with him. As you
Sir, ſo I haue ridden many iournies, and yet I neuer vſed any ſuch praier,
although I haue heard it very much commended, and my lodging hath
prooued neuer the worſer. Perhaps this verie night will therein reſolue
vs both, whether of vs two ſhall be the beſt lodged; you that haue ſayde
the prayer, or I that neuer vſde it at all. But I muſt not deny, that in ſted
thereof, I haue made vſe of ſome verſes; as Dirupisti, or the Iutemerata,
or Deprofundis, which are (as my Grandmother hath often told mee) of
very great vertue and efficacy.
Continuing thus in talke of diuers things, winning way, and beguiling
the time, ſtill waiting when their purpoſe ſhould ſort to effect: it fortuned,
that the Theeues ſeeing they were come neere to a Towne, called
Casteau Guillaume, by the foord of a Riuer, the houre ſomewhat late, the
place ſolitarie, and thickely ſhaded with trees, they made their aſſault;
and hauing robd him, left him there on foote, ſtript into his ſhirt, ſaying
to him. Goe now and ſee, whether thy Saint Iulian will allow thee this
night a good lodging, or no, for our owne we are ſufficiently prouided;
ſo paſſing the Riuer, away they rode. Rinaldoes ſeruant, ſeeing his Maſter
ſo ſharply aſſayled, like a wicked villaine, would not aſſiſt him in any
ſort: but giuing his horſe the ſpurres, neuer left gallowping, vntill hee
came to Chaſteau Guillaume, where hee entred vpon the point of night,
prouiding himſelfe of a lodging, but not caring what became of his
Maſter.
Rinaldo remaining there in his ſhirt, bare-foote and bare-legged, the
weather extremely colde, and ſnowing inceſſantly, not knowing what
to doe, darke night drawing on, and looking round about him, for ſome
place where to abide that night, to the end he might not dye with colde:
he found no helpe at all there for him, in regard that (no long while before)
the late warre had burnt and waſted all, and not ſo much as the leaſt
Cottage left. Compelled by the coldes violence, his teeth quaking, and
all his body trembling, hee trotted on towards Chaſteau Guillaume, not
knowing, whether his man was gone thither or no, or to what place elſe:
but perſwaded himſelfe, that if he could get entrance, there was no feare
of finding ſuccour. But before he came within halfe a mile of the Towne,
the night grew extreamely darke, and arriuing there ſo late, hee found
the gates faſt lockt, and the Bridges drawne vp, ſo that no entrance might
be admitted.
Grieuing greatly hereat, and being much diſcomforted, rufully he
•
went ſpying about the walls, for ſome place wherein to ſhrowd himſelfe,
at leaſt, to keepe the ſnow from falling vpon him. By good hap, hee
eſpied an houſe vpon the wall of the Towne, which had a terrace iutting
out as a penthouſe, vnder which he purpoſed to ſtand all the night, and
then to get him gone in the morning. At length, hee found a doore in
the wall, but very faſt ſhut, and ſome ſmall ſtore of ſtrawe lying by it,
which he gathered together, and ſitting downe thereon very penſiuely;
made many ſad complaints to Saint Iulian, ſaying: This was not according
to the truſt he repoſed in her. But Saint Iulian, taking compaſſion
vpon him, without any ouer-long tarying; prouided him of a good
lodging, as you ſhall heare how.
In this towne of Chaſteau Guillaume, liued a young Lady, who was a
widdow, ſo beautifull and comely of her perſon, as ſildome was ſeene a
more louely creature. The Marqueſſe Azzo moſt dearely affected her,
and (as his choyſeſt Iewell of delight) gaue her that houſe to liue in, vnder
the terrace whereof poore Rinaldo made his ſhelter. It chaunced the
day before, that the Marqueſſe was come thither, according to his frequent
cuſtome, to weare away that night in her company, ſhe hauing ſecretly
prepared a Bath for him, and a coſtly ſupper beſide. All things being
ready, and nothing wanting but the Marqueſſe his preſence: ſuddenly
a Poſt brought him ſuch Letters, which commanded him inſtantly to
horſebacke, and word hee ſent to the Lady, to ſpare him for that night,
becauſe vrgent occaſions called him thence, and hee rode away immediately.
Much diſcontented was the Lady at this vnexpected accident, and not
knowing now how to ſpend the time, reſolued to vſe the Bath which hee
had made for the Marqueſſe, and (after ſupper) betake her ſelfe to reſt,
and ſo ſhe entred into the Bath. Cloſe to the doore where poore Rinaldo
ſate, ſtoode the Bath, by which meanes, ſhee being therein, heard all his
quiuering moanes, and complaints, ſeeming to be ſuch, as the Swanne
ſinging before her death: whereupon, ſhee called her Chamber-maide,
ſaying to her. Goe vp aboue, and looke ouer the terrace on the wall
downe to this doore, and ſee who is there, and what hee doth. The
Chamber-maide went vp aloft, and by a little glimmering in the ayre,
ſhe ſaw a man ſitting in his ſhirt, bare on feete and legges, trembling in
manner before rehearſed. Shee demaunding, of whence, and what hee
was; Rinaldoes teeth ſo trembled in his head, as very hardly could hee
forme any words, but (ſo well as he could) tolde her what hee was, and
how hee came thither: moſt pittifully entreating her, that if ſhee could
affoord him any helpe, not to ſuffer him ſtarue there to death with colde.
The Chamber-maide, being much moued to compaſſion, returned
to her Lady, and tolde her all; ſhe likewiſe pittying his diſtreſſe, and remembring
ſhee had the key of that doore, whereby the Marqueſſe both
entred and returned, when he intended not to be ſeene of any, ſaid to her
Maide. Goe, and open the doore ſoftly for him; we haue a good ſupper,
and none to helpe to eate it, and if he be a man likely, we can allow him
one nights lodging too. The Chamber-maide, commending her Lady
for this charitable kindneſſe, opened the doore, and ſeeing hee appeared
as halfe frozen, ſhee ſaid vnto him. Make haſt good man, get thee into
this Bath▪ which yet is good and warme, for my Lady her ſelfe came but
newly out of it. Whereto very gladly he condiſcended, as not tarrying to
be bidden twiſe; finding himſelfe ſo ſingularly comforted with the heare
thereof, euen as if hee had beene reſtored from death to life. Then the
Lady ſent him garments, which lately were her deceaſed husbands, and
fitted him ſo aptly in all reſpects, as if purpoſely they had beene made
for him.
Attending in further expectation, to know what elſe the Lady would
commaund him; hee began to remember God and Saint Iulian, hartily
thanking her, for deliuering him from ſo bad a night as was threatned towards
him, and bringing him to ſo good entertainement. After all this,
the Lady cauſing a faire fire to be made in the neereſt Chamber beneath,
went and ſate by it her ſelfe, demaunding how the honeſt man fared.
Madame, anſwered the Chamber-maide, now that he is in your deceaſed
Lords garments, he appeareth to be a very goodly Gentleman, and (queſtionleſſe)
is of reſpectiue birth and breeding, well deſeruing this gracious
fauour which you haue afforded him. Goe then (quoth the Lady)
and conduct him hither, to ſit by this fire, and ſup here with mee, for I
feare he hath had but a ſorrie ſupper. When Rinaldo was entred into the
Chamber, and beheld her to be ſuch a beautifull Lady, accounting his
fortune to exceede all compariſon, hee did her moſt humble reuerence,
expreſſing ſo much thankefulneſſe as poſſibly hee could, for this her extraordinary
grace and fauour.
The Lady fixing a ſtedfaſt eye vpon him, well liking his gentle language
and behauiour, perceiuing alſo, how fitly her deceaſed husbands
apparell was formed to his perſon, and reſembling him in all familiar reſpects,
he appeared (in her iudgement) farre beyond the Chambermaides
commendations of him; ſo praying him to ſit downe by her before the
fire, ſhee queſtioned with him, concerning this vnhappy nights accident
befalne him, wherein he fully reſolued her, and ſhee was the more perſwaded,
by reaſon of his ſeruants comming into the Towne before night,
aſſuring him, that he ſhould be found for him early in the morning.
Supper being ſerued in to the Table, and hee ſeated according as the
Lady commanded, ſhee began to obſerue him very conſiderately; for
he was a goodly man, compleate in all perfections of perſon, a delicate
pleaſing countenance, a quicke alluring eye, fixed and conſtant, not wantonly
gadding, in the iouiall youthfulneſſe of his time, and trueſt temper
for amorous apprehenſion; all theſe were as battering enſignes againſt a
Bulwarke of no ſtrong reſiſtance, and wrought ſtrangely vpon her flexible
affections. And though hee fed heartily, as occaſion conſtrained,
yet her thoughts had entertained a new kinde of diet, digeſted onely by
the eye; yet ſo cunningly concealed, that no motiue to immodeſty could
be diſcerned. Her mercy thus extended to him in miſery, drew on (by
Table diſcourſe) his birth, education, parents, friends, and alies; his
wealthy poſſeſſions by Merchandize, aud a ſound ſtability in his eſtate,
but aboue all (and beſt of all) the ſingle and ſole condition of a batch
•
ler;
an apt and eaſie ſteele to ſtrike fire, eſpecially vpon ſuch quicke taking
tinder, and in a time fauoured by Fortune.
No imbarment remained, but remembrance of the Marqueſſe, and
that being ſummond to her more aduiſed conſideration, her youth and
beauty ſtood vp as conſcious accuſers, for blemiſhing her honour and
faire repute, with lewd and luxurious life; farre vnfit for a Lady of her degree,
and well worthy of generall condemnation. What ſhould I further
ſay? vpon a ſhort conference with her Chambermaide, repentance for
ſinne paſt, and ſolemne promiſe of a conſtant conuerſion, thus ſhee deliuered
her minde to Rinaldo.
Sir, as you haue related your fortunes to me, by this your caſuall happening
hither, if you can like the motion ſo well as ſhee that makes it,
my deceaſed Lord and husband liuing ſo perfectly in your perſon; this
houſe, and all mine, is yours; and of a widow I will become your wife, except
(vnmanly) you denie me. Rinaldo hearing theſe words, and proceeding
from a Lady of ſuch abſolute perfections, preſuming vpon ſo proud
an offer, and condemning himſelfe of folly if he ſhould refuſe it, thus replied.
Madam, conſidering that I ſtand bound for euer hereafter, to confeſſe
that you are the gracious preſeruer of my life, and I no way able to
returne requitall; if you pleaſe ſo to ſhadow mine inſufficiency, and to
accept me and my faireſt fortunes to doe you ſeruice: let me die before
a thought of deniall, or any way to yeeld you the leaſt diſcontentment.
Here wanted but a Prieſt to ioyne their hands, as mutuall affection
already had done their hearts, which being ſealed with infinite kiſſes; the
Chamber-maide called vp Friar Roger her Confeſſor, and wedding and
bedding were both effected before the bright morning. In briefe, the
Marqueſſe hauing heard of the marriage, did not miſlike it, but confirmed
it by great and honourable gifts; and hauing ſent for his diſhoneſt
ſeruant, he diſpatched him (after ſound reprehenſion) to Ferrara, with
Letters to Rinaldoes Father and friends, of all the accidents that had befalne
him. Moreouer, the very ſame morning, the three theeues, that
had robbed, and ſo ill entreated Rinaldo, for another facte by them the
ſame night committed; were taken, and brought to the Towne of Chaſteau
Guillaume, where they were hanged for their offences, and Rinaldo
with his wife rode to Ferrara.
Three young Gentlemen, being brethren, and hauing ſpent all their Lands and poſſeſsions vainely, became poore. A Nephew of theirs (falling almoſt into as deſperate a condition) became acquainted with an Abbot, whom he afterward found to be the King of Englands Daughter, and made him her Huſband in marriage, recompencing all his Vncles loſſes, and ſeating them againe in good estate.
The third Nouell.
Wherein is declared the dangers of Prodigalitie, and the manifold mutabilities of Fortune.
THe fortunes of Rinaldo de Eſte, being heard by the Ladies and Gentlemen,
they admired his happineſſe, and commended his deuotion
to Saint I
•
lian, who (in ſuch extreame neceſſity) ſent him ſo good ſuccour.
Nor was the Lady to be blamed, for leauing baſe liberty, and conuerting
to the chaſte embraces of the marriage bed, the dignity of womens
honour, and eternall diſgrace liuing otherwiſe. While thus they
deſcanted on the happy night betweene her and Rinaldo, Madam Pampinea
ſitting next to Philostratus, conſidering, that her diſcourſe muſt follow
in order, and thinking on what ſhee was to ſay; the Queene had no
ſooner ſent out her command, but ſhee being no leſſe faire then forward,
beganne in this manner.
Ladies of great reſpect, the more we conferre on the accidents of Fortune,
ſo much the more remaineth to conſider on her mutabilities, wherein
there is no need of wonder, if diſcreetly we obſerue, that all ſuch things
as we fondly tearme to be our owne, are in her power, and ſo (conſequently)
change from one to another, without any ſtay or arreſt (according
to her concealed iudgement) or ſetled order (at leaſt) that can bee
knowne to vs. Now, although theſe things appeare thus daily to vs,
euen apparantly in all occaſions, and as hath beene diſcerned by ſome of
our precedent diſcourſes; yet notwithſtanding, ſeeing it pleaſeth the
Queene, that our arguments ſhould ayme at theſe ends, I will adde to
the former tales another of my owne, perhaps not vnprofitable for the
hearers, nor vnpleaſing in obſeruation.
Sometime heeretofore, there dwelt in our Citie, a Knight named
Signior Thebaldo, who (according as ſome report) iſſued from the Family
of Lamberti, but others deriue him of the Agolanti; guiding (perhaps)
their opinion heerein, more from the traine of children, belonging
to the ſaide Thebaldo (euermore equall to that of the Agolanti) then any
other matter elſe. But ſetting aſide, from which of theſe two houſes
he came, I ſay, that in his time he was a very welthy Knight, & had three
Sonnes; the firſt being named Lamberto, the ſecond Thebaldo, & the third
Agolanto, all goodly and gracefull youths: howbeit, the eldeſt had not
compleated eighteene yeares, when Signior Thebaldo the father deceaſed,
who left them all his goods and inheritances. And they, ſeeing them
ſelues rich in read
•
e monies and reuennewes, without any other gouernment
then their owne voluntary diſpoſition, kept no reſtraint vpon their
expences, but maintained many ſeruants, and ſtore of vnvalewable horſes,
beſide Hawkes and Hounds, with open houſe for all commers; and
not onely all delights elſe fit for Gentlemen, but what vanities beſide beſt
agreed with their wanton and youthfull appetites.
Not long had they run on this race, but the treaſures lefte them by
their Father, began greatly to diminiſh; and their reuennewes ſuffiſed
not, to ſupport ſuch lauiſh expences as they had begun: but they fell to
engaging and pawning their inheritances, ſelling one to day, and another
to morrow, ſo that they ſaw themſelues quickly come to nothing,
and then pouerty opened their eyes, which prodigality had before cloſed
vp. Heereupon, Lamberto (on a day) calling his Brethren to him, ſhewed
them what the honors of their Father had beene, to what height his
wealth amounted, and now to what an ebbe of pouerty it was falne, onely
thorow their inordinate expences. Wherefore hee counſelled them,
(as beſt he could) before further miſery inſulted ouer them; to make ſale
of the ſmall remainder that was left, and then to betake themſelues vnto
ſome other abiding, where fairer Fortune might chance to ſhine vppon
them.
This aduice preuailed with them; and ſo, without taking leaue of any
body, or other ſolemnity then cloſeſt ſecrecy, they departed from Florence,
not tarrying in any place vntill they were arriued in England. Comming
to the City of London, and taking there a ſmall houſe vpon yearly
rent, liuing on ſo little charge as poſſible might be, they began to lend
out money at vſe: wherein Fortune was ſo fauourable to them, that (in
few yeares) they had gathered a great ſumme of mony: by means whereof
it came to paſſe, that one while one of them, and afterward another,
returned backe againe to Florence: where, with thoſe ſummes, a great
part of their inheritances were redeemed, and many other bought beſide.
Linking themſelues in marriage, and yet continuing their vſances
in England; they ſent a Nephew of theirs thither, named Aleſſandro, a
yong man, and of faire demeanor, to maintaine their ſtocke in employment:
while they three remained ſtill at Florence, and growing forgetful
of their former miſery, fell againe into as vnreaſonable expences as euer,
neuer reſpecting their houſhold charges, becauſe they had good credite
among the Merchants, and the monies ſtill ſent from Aleſſandro, ſupported
their expences diuers yeares.
The dealings of Aleſſandro in England grew very great, for hee lent
out much money to many Gentlemen, Lords, and Barons of the Land,
vpon engagement of their Manours, Caſtles, and other reuennues: from
whence he deriued immeaſurable benefite. While the three Brethren
held on in their lauiſh expences, borrowing moneys when they wanted
vntill their ſupplyes came from England, whereon (indeede) was their
onely dependance: it fortuned, that (contrary to the opinion of al men)
warre happened betweene the King of England, and one of his ſonnes,
which occaſioned much trouble in the whole Countrey, by taking part
on either ſide, ſome with the Sonne, and other with the Father. In regard
whereof, thoſe Caſtles and places pawned to Aleſſandro, were ſodainely
ſeized from him, nothing then remaining that returned him any profit.
But liuing in hope day by day, that peace would be concluded betweene
the Father and the Sonne, he neuer doubted, but all things then ſhould
be reſtored to him, both the principall and intereſt, & therfore he would
not depart out of the Country.
The three Brethren at Florence, bounding within no limites their diſordered
ſpending; borrowed daily more and more. And after ſome few
yeares, the Creditors ſeeing no effect of their hopes to com from them,
all credit being loſt with them, and no repayment of promiſed dues; they
were impriſoned, their landes and all they had, not ſuffiſing to pay the
moity of debts, but their bodies remained in priſon for the reſt, theyr
Wiues and yong children being ſent thence, ſome to one village, ſome
to another, ſo that nothing now was to be expected, but pouerty & miſery
of life for euer.
As for honeſt Aleſſandro, who had awaited long time for peace in England,
perceyuing there was no likelyhood of it; and conſidering alſo,
that (beſide his tarrying there in vaine to recouer his dues) he was in danger
of his life; without any further deferring, hee ſet away for Italy. It
came to paſſe, that as he iſſued foorth of Bruges, hee ſaw a yong Abbot
alſo iourneying thence, being cloathed in white, accompanied with diuers
Monkes, and a great traine before, conducting the needefull carriage.
Two ancient Knights, Kinſmen to the King, followed after, with
whom Aleſſandro acquainted himſelfe, as hauing formerly known them,
and was kindly accepted into their company. Aleſſandro riding along
with them, courteouſly requeſted to know, what thoſe Monks were that
rode before, and ſuch a traine attending on them? Whereto one of the
Knights thus anſwered.
He that rideth before, is a yong Gentleman, and our Kinſman, who is
newly elected Abbot of one of the beſt Abbeyes in England; & becauſe
he is more yong in yeares, then the decrees for ſuch a dignity doe allow,
we trauaile with him to Rome, to entreat our Holy Father, that his youth
may be diſpenſed withall, and he confirmed in the ſayd dignity; but hee
is not to ſpeake a word to any perſon. On rode this new Abbot, ſometimes
before his traine, and other whiles after, as we ſee great Lords vſe
to do, when they ride vpon the High-wayes.
It chanced on a day, that Aleſſandro rode ſomewhat neere to the Abbot,
who ſtedfaſtly beholding him, perceiued that he was a verie comely
young man, ſo affable, louely, and gracious, that euen in this firſt encounter,
he hadde neuer ſeene any man before, that better pleaſed him.
Calling him a little cloſer, he began to conferre familiarly with him, demanding
what he was, whence he came, and whether he trauelled. Aleſſandro
imparted freely to him all his affaires, in euery thing ſatisfying his
demands, and offering (although his power was ſmall) to doe him all the
ſeruice he could.
When the Abbot had heard his gentle anſwers, ſo wiſely & diſcreetly
deliuered, conſidering alſo (more particularly) his commendable cariage;
he tooke him to be (at the leaſt) a well-borne Gentleman, and far
differing from his owne logger-headed traine. Wherfore, taking compaſſion
on his great misfortunes, he comforted him very kindly, wiſhing
him to liue alwayes in good hope. For, if hee were vertuous and honeſt,
he ſhould ſurely attaine to the ſeate from whence Fortune had throwne
him, or rather much higher. Entreating him alſo, that ſeeing he iournied
towards Tuſcany, as he himſelfe did the like; to continue ſtil (if he pleaſed)
in his company. Aleſſandro moſt humbly thanked him for ſuch gracious
comfort; proteſting, that he would be alwaies ready, to doe whatſoeuer
he commanded.
The Abbot riding on, with newer crochets in his braine, then hee had
before the ſight of Aleſſandro; it fortuned, that after diuers dayes of trauaile,
they came to a ſmall countrey Village, which affoorded little ſtore
of lodging, and yet the Abbot would needs lye there. Aleſſandro, being
well acquainted with the Hoſt of the houſe, willed him, to prouide
for the Abbot and his people, and then to lodge him where hee thought
meeteſt. Now, before the Abbots comming thither, the Harbinger
that marſhalled all ſuch matters, had prouided for his traine in the Village,
ſome in one place, and others elſewhere, in the beſt maner that the
Towne could yeelde. But when the Abbot had ſupt, a great part of the
night being ſpent, and euery one elſe at his reſt; Aleſſandro demaunded
of the Hoſt, what prouiſion he had made for him; and how hee ſhould
be lodged that night?
In good ſadneſſe Sir (quoth the Hoſt) you ſee that my houſe is full of
Gueſts, ſo that I and my people, muſt gladly ſleepe on the tables & benches:
Neuertheleſſe, next adioyning to my Lord Abbots Chamber,
there are certaine Corn-lofts, whether I can cloſely bring you, and making
ſhift there with a ſlender Pallet-bed, it may ſerue for one night, inſted
of a better. But mine Hoſt (quoth Aleſſandro) how can I paſſe thorow
my Lords Chamber, which is ſo little, as it would not allowe Lodging
for any of his Monkes? If I had remembred ſo much (ſaid the Hoſt)
before the Curtaines were drawne, I could haue lodgd his Monkes in
thoſe Corn-lofts, and then both you and I might haue ſlept where now
they do. But feare you not, my Lords Curtaines are cloſe drawne, hee
ſleepeth (no doubt) ſoundly, and I can conueigh you thither quietly enough,
without the leaſt diſturbance to him, and a Pallet-bed ſhal be fitted
there for you. Aleſſandro perceyuing, that all this might bee eaſilie
done, and no diſeaſe offered to the Abbot, accepted it willingly, & went
thither without any noyſe at all.
My Lord Abbot, whoſe thoughtes were ſo buſied about amorous
deſires, that no ſleepe at all could enter his eyes; heard all this talke betweene
the Hoſt and Aleſſandro, and alſo where hee was appointed to
lodge, wherefore he ſayd to himſelfe. Seeing Fortune hath fitted me with
a propitious time, to compaſſe the happines of my hearts deſire; I know
no reaſon why I ſhould refuſe it. Perhaps, I ſhall neuer haue the like offer
againe, or euer be enabled with ſuch an opportunity. So, being fully
determined to proſecute his intention, and perſwading himſelfe alſo,
that the ſilence of night had beſtowed ſleepe on all the reſt; with a lowe
and trembling voyce, he called Aleſſandro, aduiſing him to come and lye
downe by him, which (after ſome few faint excuſes) he did, and putting
off his cloaths, lay downe by the Abbot, being not a little prowde of ſo
gracious a fauour.
The Abbot, laying his arme ouer the others body, began to imbrace
and hugge him; euen as amorous friends (prouoked by earneſt affection)
vſe to do. Whereat Aleſſandro very much maruayling, and being
an Italian himſelfe, fearing leaſt this folly in the Abbot, would conuert
to foule and diſhoneſt action, ſhrunk modeſtly from him. Which the
Abbot perceiuing, and doubting, leaſt Aleſſandro would depart and leaue
him, pleaſantly ſmiling, and with baſhfull behauiour, baring his ſtomack,
he tooke Aleſſandroes hand, and laying it thereon, ſaide; Aleſſandro, let all
bad thoughts of beſtiall abuſe be farre off from thee, and feele here, to reſolue
thee from all ſuch feare. Aleſſandro feeling the Abbots breſt, found
there two pretty little mountainets, round, plumpe, and ſmooth, appearing
as if they had beene of poliſhed Iuory; whereby he perceiued, that
the Abbot was a woman: which, ſetting an edge on his youthfull deſires,
made him fall to embracing, and immediately he offered to kiſſe her; but
ſhee ſomewhat rudely repulſing him, as halfe offended, ſaide.
Aleſſandro, forbeare ſuch boldneſſe, vpon thy liues perill, and before
thou further preſume to touch me, vnderſtand what I ſhall tell thee. I am
(as thou perceiueſt) no man, but a woman; and departing a Virgin from
my Fathers Houſe, am trauelling towards the Popes holineſſe, to the end
that he ſhould beſtow me in mariage. But the other day, when firſt I beheld
thee, whether it proceeded from thy happineſſe in fortune, or the
fatall houre of my owne infelicity for euer, I know not; I conceiued ſuch
an effectuall kinde of liking towards thee, as neuer did woman loue a
man more truly, then I doe thee, hauing ſworne within my ſoule to make
thee my Husband before any other; and if thou wilt not accept mee as
thy wife, ſet a locke vpon thy lippes concerning what thou haſt heard, and
depart hence to thine owne bed againe.
No doubt, but that theſe were ſtrange newes to Aleſſandro, and ſeemed
meerely as a miracle to him. What ſhee was, he knew not, but in
regard of her traine and company, hee reputed her to be both noble and
rich, as alſo ſhee was wonderfull faire and beautifull. His owne fortunes
ſtood out of future expectation by his kinſmens ouerthrow, and his great
loſſes in England; wherefore, vpon an opportunity ſo fairely offered, hee
held it no wiſedome to returne refuſall, but accepted her gracious motion,
and referred all to her diſpoſing. Shee ariſing out of her bed, called
him to a little Table ſtanding by, where hung a faire Crucifix vpon the
wall; before which, and calling him to witneſſe, that ſuffered ſuch bitter
and cruell torments on his Croſſe, putting a Ring vpon his finger, there
ſhe faithfully eſpouſed him, refuſing all the World, to be onely his: which
being on either ſide confirmed ſolemnely, by an holy vow, and chaſte kiſſes;
ſhee commanded him backe to his Chamber, and ſhee returned to
her bed againe, ſufficiently ſatisfied with her Loues acceptation, and ſo
they iournied on till they came to Rome.
When they had reſted themſelues there for ſome few dayes, the ſuppoſed
Abbot, with the two Knights, and none elſe in company but Aleſſandro,
went before the Pope, and hauing done him ſuch reuerence as beſeemed,
the Abbot began to ſpeake in this manner.
Holy Father (as you know much better then any other) euery one
that deſireth to liue well and vertuouſly, ought to ſhunne (ſo farre as in
them lieth) all occaſions that may induce to the contrary. To the ende
therefore, that I (who deſire nothing more) then to liue within the compaſſe
of a vertuous conuerſation, may perfect my hopes in this behalfe:
I haue fled from my Fathers Court, and am come hither in this habite as
you ſee, to craue therein your holy and fatherly furtherance. I am daughter
to the King of England, and haue ſufficiently furniſhed my ſelfe with
ſome of his treaſures, that your holineſſe may beſtow me in marriage;
becauſe mine vnkind Father, neuer regarding my youth and beauty (inferior
to few in my natiue Country) would marry me to the King of Northwales,
an aged, impotent, and ſickly man. Yet let me tell your ſanctity,
that his age and weakeneſſe hath not ſo much occaſioned my flight, as
feare of mine owne youth and frailety; when being married to him, inſtead
of loyall and vnſtained life, lewd and diſhoneſt deſires might make
me to wander, by breaking the diuine Lawes of wedlocke, and abuſing
the royall blood of my Father.
As I trauailed hither with this vertuous intention, our Lord, who
onely knoweth perfectly, what is beſt fitting for all his creatures; preſented
mine eyes (no doubt in his meere mercy and goodneſſe) with a man
meete to be my husband, which (pointing to Aleſſandro) is this young
Gentleman ſtanding by me, whoſe honeſt, vertuous, and ciuill demeanour,
deſerueth a Lady of farre greater worth, although (perhaps) nobility
in blood be denied him, and may make him ſeeme not ſo excellent,
as one deriued from Royall diſcent. Holy and religious vowes haue paſt
betweene vs both, and the Ring on his finger, is the firme pledge of my
faith and conſtancie; neuer to accept any other man in marriage, but
him onely, although my Father, or any elſe doe diſlike it. Wherefore
(holy Father) the principall cauſe of my comming hither, being already
effectually concluded on, I deſire to compleat the reſt of my pilgrimage,
by viſiting the ſanctified places in this City, whereof there are great plenty:
And alſo, that ſacred marriage, being contracted in the preſence of
God onely, betweene Aleſſandro and my ſelfe, may by you be publiquely
confirmed, and in an open congregation. For, ſeeing God hath ſo appointed
it, and our ſoules haue ſo ſolemnely vowed it, that no diſaſter
whatſoeuer can alter it: you being Gods vicar here on earth, I hope will
not gaine-ſay, but confirme it with your fatherly benediction, that wee
may liue in Gods feare, and dye in his fauour.
Perſwade your ſelues (faire Ladies) that Aleſſandro was in no meane
admiration, when hee heard, that his wife was daughter to the King of
England; vnſpeakeable ioy (queſtionleſſe) wholly ouercame him: but the
two Knights were not a little troubled and offended, at ſuch a ſtrange
and vnexpected accident, yea, ſo violent were their paſſions, that had
they beene any where elſe, then in the Popes preſence, Aleſſandro had
felt their fury, and (perhaps) the Princeſſe her ſelfe too. On the other
ſide, the Pope was much amazed, at the habite ſhe went diſguiſed in, and
likewiſe at the election of her husband; but, perceiuing there was no reſiſtance
to be made againſt it, hee yeelded the more willingly to ſatisfie
her deſire. And therefore, hauing firſt comforted the two Knights, and
made peace betweene them, the Princeſſe and Aleſſandro; he gaue order
for the reſt that was to be done.
When the appointed day for the ſolemnity was come, hee cauſed the
Princeſſe (cloathed in moſt rich and royall garments) to appeare before
all the Cardinals, and many other great perſons then in preſence, who
were come to this worthy Feaſt, which hee had cauſed purpoſely to be
prepared, where ſhe ſeemed ſo faire & goodly a Lady, that euery eye was
highly delighted to behold her, commending her with no mean admiration.
In like manner was Aleſſandro greatly honored by the two Knights,
being moſt ſumptuous in appearance, and not like a man that had lent
money to vſury, but rather of very royall quality; the Pope himſelfe celebrating
the marriage betweene them, which being finiſhed, with the
moſt magnificent pompe that could be deuiſed, hee gaue them his benediction,
and licenced their departure thence.
Aleſſandro, his Princeſſe and her traine thus leauing Rome, they would
needes viſite Florence, where the newes of this accident was (long before)
noyſed, and they receiued by the Citizens in royall manner. There did
ſhee deliuer the three brethren out of priſon, hauing firſt payed all their
debts, and reſeated them againe (with their wiues) in their former inheritances
and poſſeſſions. Afterward, departing from Florence, and Agolanto,
one of the Vncles trauailing with them to Paris; they were there
alſo moſt honourably entertained by the King of France. From whence
the two Knights went before for England, and preuailed ſo ſuccesfully
with the King; that hee receiued his daughter into grace and fauour, as
alſo his Sonne in law her husband, to whom hee gaue the order of
Knighthoode, and (for his greater dignitie) created him Earle of
Cornewall.
And ſuch was the noble ſpirit of Aleſſandro, that he pacified the troubles
betweene the King and his ſonne, whereon enſued great comfort to
the Kingdome, winning the loue and fauour of all the people; and Agolanto
(by the meanes of Aleſſandro) recouered all that was due to him
and his brethren in England, returning richly home to Florence, Counte
Aleſſandro (his kinſman) hauing firſt dubd him Knight. Long time hee
liued in peace and tranquility, with the faire Princeſſe his wife, prouing
to be ſo abſolute in wiſedome, and ſo famous a Souldier; that (as ſome
report) by aſſiſtance of his Father in law, hee conquered the Realme of
Ireland, and was crowned King thereof.
Landolpho Ruffolo, falling into pouerty, became a Pirate on the Seas, and being taken by the Genewayes, hardly eſcaped drowning: Which yet (neuertheleſſe) he did, vpon a little Chest or Coffer, full of very rich Iewels, being caried thereon to Corfu, where he was well entertained by a good woman; And afterward, returned richly home to his owne houſe.
The fourth Nouell.
Whereby may be diſcerned, into how many dangers a man may fall, through a couetous deſire to enrich himſelfe.
MAdame Lauretta, ſitting next to Madame Pampinea, and ſeeing how
triumphantly ſhee had finiſhed her diſcourſe; without attending
any thing elſe, ſpake thus. Gracious Ladies, wee ſhall neuer behold (in
mine opinion) a great act of Fortune, then to ſee a man ſo ſuddainly exalted,
euen from the loweſt death of pouerty, to a Royall eſtate of dignity;
as the diſcourſe of Madame Pampinea hath made good, by the happy
aduancement of Aleſſandro. And becauſe it appeareth neceſſary, that
whoſoeuer diſcourſeth on the ſubiect propoſed, ſhould no way varie
from the very ſame termes; I ſhall not ſhame to tell a tale, which, though
it containe farre greater miſhaps then the former, may ſort to as happy
an iſſue, albeit not ſo noble and magnificent. In which reſpect, it may
(perhaps) merit the leſſe attention; but howſoeuer that fault ſhall be
found in you, I meane to diſcharge mine owne duty.
Opinion hath made it famous for long time, that the Sea-coaſt of Rhegium
to Gaieta, is the onely delectable part of all Italy, wherein, ſomewhat
neere to Salerno, is a ſhore looking vpon the Sea, which the inhabitants
there dwelling, doe call the coaſt of Malfy, full of ſmall Townes, Gardens,
Springs and wealthy men, trading in as many kindes of Merchandizes,
as any other people that I know. Among which Townes, there is
one, named Rauello, wherein (as yet to this day there are rich people)
there was (not long ſince) a very wealthy man, named Landolpho Ruffolo,
who being not contented with his riches, but coueting to multiply them
double and trebble, fell in danger, to looſe both himſelfe and wealth together.
This man (as other Merchants are wont to doe) after hee had conſidered
on his affaires, bought him a very goodly Ship,
•
ading it with diuers
ſorts of Merchandizes, all belonging to himſelfe onely, and making
his voyage to the Iſle of Cyprus. Where he found, ouer and beſide the
Merchandizes he had brought thither, many Ships more there arriued,
and all laden with the ſelfe ſame commodities, in regard whereof, it was
needefull for him, not onely to make a good Mart of his goods; but alſo
was further conſtrained (if hee meant to vent his commodities) to ſell
them away (almoſt) for nothing, endangering his vtter deſtruction and
ouerthrow. Whereupon, grieuing exceedingly at ſo great a loſſe, not
knowing what to doe, and ſeeing, that from very abundant wealth, hee
was likely to fall into as low pouerty: hee reſolued to dye, or to recompence
his loſſes vpon others, becauſe he would not returne home poore,
hauing departed thence ſo rich.
Meeting with a Merchant, that bought his great Ship of him; with
the money made thereof, and alſo of his other Merchandizes, hee purchaſed
another, being a lighter veſſell, apt and proper for the vſe of a Pirate,
arming and furniſhing it in ample manner, for rouing and robbing
vpon the Seas. Thus hee began to make other mens goods his owne,
eſpecially from the Turkes he tooke much wealth, Fortune being alwayes
therein ſo fauourable to him, that hee could neuer compaſſe the like by
trading. So that, within the ſpace of one yeare, hee had robd and taken
ſo many Gallies from the Turke; that he found himſelfe well recouered,
not onely of all his loſſes by Merchandize, but likewiſe his wealth was
wholly redoubled. Finding his loſſes to be very liberally required, and
hauing now ſufficient, it were folly to hazard a ſecond fall; wherefore,
conferring with his owne thoughts, and finding that he had enough, and
needed not to couer after more: he fully concluded, now to returne home
to his owne houſe againe, and liue vpon his goods thus gotten.
Continuing ſtill in feare, of the loſſes he had ſuſtained by traffique, &
minding, neuer more to imploy his mony that way, but to keep this light
veſſel, which had holpen him to all his wealth: he commanded his men to
put forth their Oares, and ſhape their courſe for his owne dwelling. Being
aloft in the higher Seas, darke night ouer-taking them, and a mighty
winde ſuddainly comming vpon them: it not onely was contrary to
their courſe, but held on with ſuch impetuous violence; that the ſmall
veſſell, being vnable to endure it, made to land-ward ſpeedily, and in expectation
of a more friendly wind, entred a litle port of the Sea, directing
vp into a ſmall Iſland, and there ſafely ſheltred it ſelfe. Into the ſame port
which Landolpho had thus taken for his refuge, entred (ſoone after) two
great Carrackes of Genewayes, lately come from Constantinople. When
the men in them had eſpied the ſmall Barke, and lockt vppe her paſſage
from getting foorth; vnderſtanding the Owners name, and that report
had famed him to be very rich, they determined (as men euermore addicted
naturally, to couet after money and ſpoile) to make it their owne as
a prize at Sea.
Landing ſome ſtore of their men, well armed with Croſſe-bowes and
other weapons, they tooke poſſeſſion of ſuch a place, where none durſt
iſſue forth of the ſmall Barke, but endangered his life with their Darts &
Arrowes. Entering aboord the Barke, and making it their owne by full
poſſeſſion, all the men they threw ouer-boord, without ſparing any but
Landolpho himſelfe, whom they mounted into one of the Carrackes, leauing
him nothing but a poore ſhirt of Maile on his backe, and hauing
rifled the Barke of all her riches, ſunke it into the bottome of the ſea. The
day following, the rough windes being calmed, the Carrackes ſet ſaile agame,
hauing a proſperous paſſage all the day long; but vppon the entrance
of darke night, the windes blew more tempeſtuouſly then before,
and ſweld the Sea in ſuch rude ſtormes, that the two Carracks were ſundered
each from other, and by violence of the tempeſt it came to paſſe,
that the Carracke wherein lay poore miſerable Landolpho (beneath the
Iſle of Cephalonia) ran againſt a rocke, and euen as a glaſſe againſt a wall,
ſo ſplit the Carracke in peeces, the goods and merchandizes floating on
the Sea, Cheſts, Coffers, Beds, and ſuch like other things, as often hapneth
in ſuch lamentable accidents.
Now, notwithſtanding the nights obſcurity, and impetuous violence
of the billowes; ſuch as could ſwimme, made ſhift to ſaue their liues by
ſwimming. Others caught hold on ſuch things, as by Fortunes fauour
floated neereſt to them, among whom, diſtreſſed Landolpho, deſirous to
ſaue his life, if poſſibly it might be, eſpied a Cheſt or Coffer before him,
ordained (no doubt) to be the meanes of his ſafety from drowning. Now
although the day before, he had wiſhed for death infinite times, rather
then to returne home in ſuch wretched pouerty; yet, ſeeing how other
men ſtroue for ſafety of their liues by any helpe, were it neuer ſo little, he
tooke aduantage of this fauor offred him, and the rather in a neceſſitie ſo
vrgent. Keeping faſt vpon the Coffer ſo well as he could, and being driuen
by the winds & waues, one while this way, and anon quite contrarie,
he made ſhift for himſelfe till day appeared; when looking euery way about
him, ſeeing nothing but clouds, the ſeas and the Coffer, which one
while ſhrunke from vnder him, and another while ſupported him, according
as the windes and billowes carried it: all that day and night thus he
floated vp and downe, drinking more then willingly hee would, but almoſt
hunger-ſtarued thorow want of foode. The next morning, either
by the appointment of heauen, or power of the Windes, Landolpho
who was (well-neere) become a Spundge, holding his armes ſtrongly
about the Cheſt, as wee haue ſome doe, who (dreading drowning) take
hold on any the very ſmalleſt helpe; drew neere vnto the ſhore of the Iland
Corfu, where (by good fortune) a poore woman was ſcowring diſhes
with the ſalt water and ſand, to make them (houſe-wife like) neate and
cleane.
When ſhee ſaw the Cheſt drawing neere her, and not diſcerning the
ſhape of any man, ſhee grew fearefull, and retyring from it, cried out aloude.
He had no power of ſpeaking to her, neither did his ſight doe
him the ſmalleſt ſeruice; but euen as the waues and windes pleaſed, the
Cheſt was driuen ſtill neerer to the Land, and then the woman perceiued
that it had the forme of a Cofer, and looking more aduiſedly, beheld two
armes extended ouer it, and afterward, ſhee eſpied the face of a man, not
being able to iudge, whether he were aliue, or no. Moued by charitable
and womanly compaſſion, ſhee ſtept in among the billowes, and getting
faſt holde on the haire of his head, drew both the Cheſt and him to the
Land, and calling forth her Daughter to helpe her, with much adoe ſhee
vnfolded his armes from the Cheſt, ſetting it vp on her Daughters head,
and then betweene them, Landolpho was led into the Towne, and there
conueyed into a warme Stoue, where quickly he recouered (by her pains)
his ſtrength benummed with extreame cold.
Good wines and comfortable broathes ſhee cheriſhed him withall,
that his ſences being indifferently reſtored, hee knew the place where he
was; but not in what manner he was brought thither, till the good woman
ſhewed him the Cofer that had kept him floating vpon the waues,
and (next vnder God) had ſaued his life. The Cheſt ſeemed of ſuch ſlender
weight, that nothing of any value could be expected in it, either to recompence
the womans great paines and kindneſſe beſtowne on him, or
any matter of his owne benefit. Neuertheleſſe, the woman being abſent,
he opened the Cheſt, and found innumerable precious ſtones therein,
ſome coſtly and curiouſly ſet in gold, and others not fixed in any mettall.
Hauing knowledge of their great worth and value (being a Merchant,
and skild in ſuch matters) he became much comforted, prayſing God for
this good ſucceſſe, and ſuch an admirable meanes of deliuerance from
danger.
Then conſidering with himſelfe, that (in a ſhort time) hee had beene
twice well buffeted and beaten by Fortune, and fearing, leaſt a third miſhap
might follow in like manner; hee conſulted with his thoughts, how
he might ſafeſt order the buſineſſe, and bring ſo rich a booty (without perill)
to his owne home. Wherefore, wrapping vp the Iewels in very vnſightly
cloutes, that no ſuſpition at all ſhould be conceiued of them, hee
ſaide to the good woman, that the Cheſt would not doe him any further
ſeruice; but if ſhee pleaſed to lende him a ſmall ſacke or bagge, ſhee
might keepe the Cofer, for in her houſe it would diuers way ſtead her.
The woman gladly did as he deſired, and Landolpho returning her infinite
thankes, for the louing kindneſſe ſhee had affoorded him, throwing the
ſacke on his necke, paſſed by a Barke to Brunduſiam, and from thence to
Tranium, where Merchants in the City beſtowed good garments on him,
hee acquainting them with his diſaſterous fortunes, but not a word concerning
his laſt good ſucceſſe.
Being come home in ſafety to Rauello, hee fell on his knees, and thanked
God for all his mercies towards him. Then opening the ſacke, and
viewing the Iewels at more leyſure then formerly he had done, he found
them to be of ſo great eſtimation, that ſelling them but at ordinary and
reaſonable rates, he was three times richer, then when hee departed firſt
from his houſe. And hauing vented them all, he ſent a great ſum of money
to the good woman at Corfu, that had reſcued him out of the Sea,
and ſaued his life in a danger ſo dreadfull: The like hee did to Tranium,
to the Merchants that had newly cloathed him; liuing richly vpon the
remainder, and neuer aduenturing more to the Sea, but ended his dayes
in wealth and honour.
Andrea de Piero, trauelling from Perouſe to Naples to buy Horſes, was (in the ſpace of one night) ſurpriſed by three admirable accidents, out of all which hee fortunately eſcaped, and, with a rich Ring, returned home to his owne houſe.
The fift Nouell.
Comprehending, how needfull a thing it is, for a man that trauelleth in affaires of the World, to be prouident and well aduiſed, and carefully to keepe himſelfe from the crafty and deceitfull allurements of Strumpets.
THe precious Stones and Iewels found by Landolpho, maketh mee to
remember (ſaid Madam Fiammetta, who was next to deliuer her diſcourſe)
a Tale, containing no leſſe perils, then that reported by Madam
Lauretta: but ſomewhat different from it, becauſe the one happened in
ſundry yeeres, and this other had no longer time, then the compaſſe of
one poore night, as inſtantly I will relate vnto you.
As I haue heard reported by many, there ſometime liued in Perouſe or
•
erugia, a young man, named Andrea de Piero, whoſe profeſſion was to
trade about Horſes, in the nature of a Horſe-courſer, or Horſe-maſter,
who hearing of a good Faire or Market (for his purpoſe) at Naples, did
put fiue hundred Crownes of gold in his purſe, and iourneyed thither in
the company of other Horſe-courſers, arriuing there on a Sunday in the
euening. According to inſtructions giuen him by his Hoſt, he went the
next day into the Horſe-ma
•
ket, where he ſaw very many Horſes that he
liked, cheapening their prices as he went vp and downe, but could fall to
no agreement; yet to manifeſt that he came purpoſely to buy, and not as
a cheapener onely, oftentimes (like a ſhalow brainde trader in the world)
he ſhewed his purſe of gold before all paſſengers, neuer reſpecting who,
or what they were that obſerued his follie.
It came to paſſe, that a young Sicillian wench (very beautifull, but at
commaund of whoſoeuer would, and for ſmall hire) paſſing then by, and
(without his perceiuing) ſeeing ſuch ſtore of gold in his purſe; preſently
ſhe ſaid to her ſelfe: why ſhould not all thoſe crownes be mine, when
the foole that owes them, can keepe them no cloſer? And ſo ſhe went on.
With this young wanton there was (at the ſame time) an olde woman
(as commonly ſuch ſtuffe is alwayes ſo attended) ſeeming to be a Sicillian
alſo, who ſo ſoone as ſhee ſaw Andrea, knew him, and, leauing her
youthfull commodity, ranne to him, and embraced him very kindly.
Which when the younger Laſſe perceiued, without proceeding any
further, ſhe ſtayed, to ſee what would enſue thereon. Andrea conferring
with the olde Bawde, and knowing her (but not for any ſuch creature)
declared himſelfe very affable to her; ſhe making him promiſe, that ſhee
would come and drinke with him at his lodging. So, breaking off further
ſpeeches for that time, ſhee returned to her young Cammerado; and Andrea
went about buying his horſes, ſtill cheapning good ſtore, but did not
buy any all that morning.
The Punke that had taken notice of Adreaes purſe, vpon the olde womans
comming backe to her (hauing formerly ſtudied, how ſhee might
get all the gold, or the greater part thereof) cunningly queſtioned with
her, what the man was, whence hee came, and the occaſion of his buſineſſe
there? wherein ſhe fully informed her particularly, and in as ample
manner as himſelfe could haue done: That ſhee had long time dwelt in
Sicily with his Father, and afterward at Perouſe; recounting alſo, at what
time ſhe came thence, and the cauſe which now had drawne him to Naples.
The witty young houſewife, being thorowly inſtructed, concerning
the Parents and kindred of Andrea, their names, quality, and all
other circumſtances thereto leading; began to frame the foundation of
her purpoſe thereupon, ſetting her reſolution downe conſtantly, that the
purſe and gold was (already) more then halfe her owne.
Being come home to her owne houſe, away ſhee ſent the olde Pandreſſe
about other buſineſſe, which might hold her time long enough of
employment, and hinder her returning to Andrea according to promiſe,
purpoſing, not to truſt her in this ſerious piece of ſeruice. Calling a young
crafty Girle to her, whom ſhe had well tutoured in the like ambaſſages,
when euening drew on, ſhe ſent her to Andreas lodging, where (by good
fortune) ſhe found him ſitting alone at the dore, and demanding of him,
if he knew an honeſt Gentleman lodging there, whoſe name was Signior
Andrea de Piero; he made her anſwere, that himſelfe was the man. Then
taking him aſide, ſhee ſaid. Sir, there is a worthy Gentlewoman of this
Citie, that would gladly ſpeake with you, if you pleaſed to vouchſafe her
ſo much fauour.
Andrea, hearing ſuch a kinde of ſalutation, and from a Gentlewoman,
named of worth; began to grow proud in his owne imaginations,
and to make no meane eſtimation of himſelfe: As (vndoubtedly) that he
was an hanſome proper man, and of ſuch cariage and perfections, as had
attracted the amorous eye of this Gentlewoman, and induced her to like
and loue him beyond all other, Naples not contayning a man of better
merit. Whereupon he anſwered the Mayde, that he was ready to attend
her Miſtreſſe, deſiring to know, when it ſhould be, and where the Gentlewoman
would ſpeake with him? So ſoone as you pleaſe Sir, replied the
Damoſell, for ſhe tarieth your comming in her owne houſe.
Inſtantly Andrea (without leauing any direction of his departure in his
lodging, or when he intended to returne againe) ſaid to the Girle: Goe
before, and I will follow. This little Chamber-commodity, conducted
him to her Miſtreſſes dwelling, which was in a ſtreete named Naupertuis,
a title manifeſting ſufficiently the ſtreetes honeſty: but hee, hauing no
ſuch knowledge thereof, neither ſuſpecting any harme at all, but that he
went to a moſt honeſt houſe, and to a Gentlewoman of good reſpect;
entred boldly, the Mayde going in before, and guiding him vp a faire
payre of ſtayres, which he hauing more then halfe aſcended, the cunning
young Queane gaue a call to her Miſtreſſe, ſaying; Signtor Andrea is
come already, whereupon, ſhe appeared at the ſtayres-head, as if ſhe had
ſtayed there purpoſely to entertaine him. She was young, very beautifull,
comely of perſon, and rich in adornements, which Andrea well obſeruing,
& ſeeing her deſcend two or three ſteps, with open armes to embrace
him, catching faſt hold about his neck; he ſtood as a man confounded
with admiration, and ſhe contained a cunning kinde of ſilence, euen
as if ſhe were vnable to vtter one word, ſeeming hindered by extremity
of ioy at his preſence, and to make him effectually admire her extraordinary
kindneſſe, hauing teares plenteouſly at commaund, intermixed with
ſighes and broken ſpeeches, at laſt, thus ſhe ſpake.
Signior Andrea, you are the moſt welcom friend to me in all the world;
ſealing this ſalutation with infinite ſweet kiſſes and embraces: whereat
(in wonderfull amazement) he being ſtrangely tranſported, replied; Madame,
you honour me beyond all compaſſe of merit. Then, taking him
by the hand, ſhee guided him thorow a goodly Hall, into her owne
Chamber, which was delicately embalmed with Roſes, Orenge-flowres,
and all other pleaſing ſmelles, and a coſtly bed in the middeſt, curtained
round about, very artificiall Pictures beautifying the walles, with many
other embelliſhments, ſuch as thoſe Countries are liberally ſtored withall.
He being meerely a nouice in theſe kinds of wanton carriages of the
World, and free from any baſe or degenerate conceit; firmely perſwaded
himſelfe, that (queſtionleſſe) ſhee was a Lady of no meane eſteeme,
and he more then happy, to be thus reſpected and honoured by her. They
both being ſeated on a curious Cheſt at the Beds feete, teares cunningly
trickling downe her cheekes, and ſighes intermedled with inward ſobbings,
breathed forth in ſad, but very ſeemely manner; thus ſhee beganne.
I am ſure Andrea, that you greatly maruell at me, in gracing you with
this ſolemne and kinde entertainment, and why I ſhould ſo melt my ſelfe
in ſighes and teares, at a man that hath no knowledge of me, or (perhaps)
ſildome or neuer heard any ſpeeches of me: but you ſhall inſtantly receiue
from mee matter to augment your greater maruell, meeting heere
with your owne ſiſter, beyond all hope or expectation in either of vs
both. But ſeeing that Heauen hath beene ſo gracious to me, to let mee
ſee one of my brethren before I die (though gladly I would haue ſeene
them all) which is ſome addition of comfort to me, and that which (happily)
thou haſt neuer heard before, in plaine and trueſt manner, I will reueale
vnto thee.
Piero, my Father and thine, dwelt long time (as thou canſt not chuſe
but to haue vnderſtood) in Palermo, where, through the bounty, and other
gracious good parts remaining in him, he was much renowned; and
(to this day) is no doubt remembred, by many of his louing friends and
well-willers. Among them that moſt intimately affected Piero, my mother
(who was a Gentlewoman, and at that time a widow) did deareſt of
all other loue him; ſo that forgetting the feare of her Father, brethren,
yea, and her owne honour, they became ſo priuately acquainted, that I
was begotten, and am here now ſuch as thou ſeeſt me. Afterward, occaſions
ſo befalling our Father, to abandon Palermo, and returne to Perouſe,
he left my mother and me his little daughter, neuer after (for ought
that I could learne) once remembring either her or me: ſo that (if he had
not beene my Father) I could haue much condemned him, in regard of
his ingratitude to my Mother, and loue which hee ought to haue ſhewne
me as his childe, being borne of no Chamber-maide, neither of a City
ſinner; albeit I muſt needes ſay, that ſhee was blame-worthy, without any
further knowledge of him (moued onely thereto by moſt loyal affection)
to commit both her ſelfe, and all the wealth ſhee had, into his hands: but
things ill done, and ſo long time ſince, are more eaſily controled, then
amended.
Being left ſo young at Palermo, and growing (well neere) to the ſtature
as now you ſee me; my mother, being wealthy, gaue mee in marriage to
one of the Gergentes Family, a Gentleman, and of great reuenewes, who
in his loue to me and my mother, went and dwelt at Palermo: where falling
into the Guelphes faction, and making one in the enterprize with
Charles our King; it came to paſſe, that they were diſcouered to Fredericke
King of Arragon, before their intent could be put in execution,
whereupon, we were enforced to flie from Sicilie, euen when my hope
ſtood fairely to haue beene the greateſt Lady in all the Iland. Packing
vp then ſuch few things as wee could take with vs, few I may well call
them, in regard of our wealthy poſſeſſions, both in Pallaces, Houſes, and
Lands, all which we were conſtrained to forgoe: we made our recourſe
to this City, where wee found King Charles ſo benigne and gracious to
vs, that recompencing the greater part of our loſſes, he beſtowed Lands
and Houſes on vs here, beſide a continuall large penſion to my husband
your brother in Law, as hereafter himſelfe ſhall better acquaint you withall.
Thus came I hither, and thus remaine here, where I am able to welcome
my brother Andrea, thankes more to Fortune, then any friendlineſſe
in him: with which words ſhe embraced and kiſſed him many times,
ſighing and weeping as ſhee did before.
Andrea hearing this fable ſo artificially deliuered, compoſed from
point to point, with ſuch likely proteſtations, without faltring or failing
in any one words vtteranee; and remembring perfectly for truth, that his
Father had formerly dwelt at Palermo; knowing alſo (by ſome ſenſible
feeling in himſelfe) the cuſtome of young people, who are eaſily conquered
by affection in their youthfull heate; ſeeing beſide the teares, trembling
ſpeeches, and earneſt embracings of this cunning commodity: he
tooke all to be faithfully true by her thus ſpoken, and vpon her ſilence,
thus he replied. Lady, let it not ſeeme ſtrange to you, that your words
haue raiſed maruell in me, becauſe (indeede) I had no knowledge of you,
euen no more then as if I had neuer ſeene you, neuer alſo hauing heard
my Father to ſpeake either of you or your Mother (for ſome conſiderations
beſt knowne to himſelfe) or if at any time he vſed ſuch language, either
my youth then, or defectiue memory ſince, hath vtterly loſt it. But
truly, it is no little ioy and comfort to me, to finde a ſiſter here, where I
had no ſuch hope or expectation, and where alſo my ſelfe am a meere
ſtranger. For to ſpeake my mind freely of you, and the perfections gracefully
appearing in you, I know not any man, of how great repute or quality
ſoeuer, but you may well beſeeme his acceptance, much rather then
mine, that am but a meane Merchant. But faire ſiſter, I deſire to be reſolued
in one thing, to wit, by what meanes you had vnderſtanding of my
being in this City? whereto readily ſhee returned him this anſwer.
Brother, a poore woman of this City, whom I employ ſometimes in
houſhold occaſions, came to me this morning, and (hauing ſeene you)
tolde me, that ſhee dwelt a long while with our Father, both at Palermo,
and Perouſe. And becauſe I held it much better beſeeming my condition,
to haue you viſit me in mine owne dwelling, then I to come ſee you at
a common Inne; I made the bolder to ſend for you hither. After which
words, in very orderly manner, ſhee enquired of his chiefeſt kindred and
friends, calling them readily by their proper names, according to her former
inſtructions. Whereto Andrea ſtill made her anſwer, confirming
thereby his beliefe of her the more ſtrongly, and crediting whatſoeuer
ſhee ſaide, farre better then before.
Their conference hauing long time continued, and the heate of the
day being ſomewhat extraordinary, ſhee called for Greeke wine, and banquetting
ſtuffe, drinking to Andrea; and he pledging her very contentedly.
After which, he would haue returned to his lodging, becauſe it drew
neere ſupper time; which by no meanes ſhee would permit, but ſeeming
more then halfe diſpleaſed, ſhee ſaide. Now I plainely perceiue brother,
how little account you make of me, conſidering, you are with your owne
Siſter, who (you ſay) you neuer ſaw before, and in her owne Houſe, whether
you ſhould alwayes reſort when you come to this City; and would
you now refuſe her, to goe and ſup at a common Inne. Beleeue me brother,
you ſhall ſup with me, for although my Husband is now from home,
to my no little diſcontentment: yet you ſhall find brother, that his wife
can bid you welcome, and make you good cheere beſide.
Now was Andrea ſo confounded with this extremity of courteſie, that
he knew not what to ſay, but onely thus replied. I loue you as a Siſter
ought to be loued, and accept of your exceeding kindneſſe: but if I returne
not to my lodging, I ſhall wrong mine Hoſt and his gueſts too
much, becauſe they will not ſup vntill I come. For that (quoth ſhee)
we haue a preſent remedy, one of my ſeruants ſhal goe and giue warning,
whereby they ſhall not tarry your comming. Albeit, you might doe me a
great kindneſſe, to ſend for your friends to ſup with vs here, where I aſſure
ye they ſhall finde that your Siſter (for your ſake) will bid them welcome,
and after ſupper, you may all walke together to your Inne. Andrea anſwered,
that he had no ſuch friends there, as ſhould be ſo burthenous to
her: but ſeeing ſhee vrged him ſo farre, he would ſtay to ſup with her, and
referred himſelfe ſolely to her diſpoſition.
Ceremonious ſhew was made, of ſending a ſeruant to the Inne, for
not expecting Andreas preſence at Supper, though no ſuch matter was
performed; but, after diuers other diſcourſings, the table being couered,
and variety of coſtly viands placed thereon, downe they ſate to feeding,
with plenty of curious Wines liberally walking about, ſo that it was
darke night before they aroſe from the table. Andrea then offring to take
his leaue, ſhe would (by no meanes) ſuffer it, but tolde him that Naples
was a Citie of ſuch ſtrict Lawes and Ordinances, as admitted no nightwalkers,
although they were Natiues, much leſſe ſtrangers, but puniſhed
them with great ſeuerity. And therefore, as ſhe had formerly ſent word
to his Inne, that they ſhould not expect his comming to ſupper, the like
had ſhe done concerning his bed, intending to giue her Brother Andrea
one nights lodging, which as eaſily ſhe could affoord him, as ſhe hadde
done a Supper. All which this new-caught Woodcocke verily crediting,
and that he was in company of his owne Siſter Fiordeliza (for ſo did
ſhe cunningly ſtile her ſelfe, and in which beleefe hee was meerely deluded)
he accepted the more gladly her gentle offer, and concluded to ſtay
there all that night.
After ſupper, their conference laſted very long, purpoſely dilated out
in length, that a great part of the night might therein be waſted: when,
leauing Andrea to his Chamber, and a Lad to attend, that he ſhold lacke
nothing; ſhe with her women went to their lodgings, and thus our brother
and ſuppoſed Siſter were parted. The ſeaſon then being ſomewhat
hot and ſoultry, Andrea put off his hoſe and doublet, and beeing in his
ſhirt alone, layed them vnderneath the beds boulſter, as ſeeming carefull
of his money. But finding a prouocation to the houſe of Office, he demanded
of the Lad, where hee might find it; who ſhewed him a little
doore in a corner of the Chamber, appointing him to enter there. Safely
enough he went in, but chanced to tread vpon a board, which was faſtened
at neither ende to the ioynts whereon it lay, being a pit-fall made of
purpoſe, to entrap any ſuch coxecombe, as would be trained to ſo baſe a
place of lodging, ſo that both he and the board fell downe together into
the draught; yet ſuch being his good fortune, to receiue no harme in the
fall (although it was of extraordinary height) onely the filth of the place,
(it being ouer full) had fowly myred him.
Now for your better vnderſtanding the quality of the place, and what
enſued thereupon, it is not vnneceſſary to deſcribe it, according to a common
vſe obſerued in thoſe parts. There was a narrow paſſage or entrie,
as often we ſee reſerued betweene two houſes, for eithers benefit to ſuch
a needfull place; and boards looſely lay vpon the ioynts, which ſuch as
were acquainted withall, could eaſily auoide any perill, in paſſing to or
from the ſtoole. But our ſo newly created brother, not dreaming to find
a queane to his Siſter, receiuing ſo foule a fall into the vaulte, and knowing
not how to helpe himſelfe, being ſorrowfull beyond meaſure; cryed
out to the boy for light and aide, with intended not to giue him any. For
the crafty wag, (a meete attendant for ſo honeſt a Miſtreſſe) no ſooner
heard him to be fallen, but preſently he ranne to enforme her thereof, and
ſhee as ſpeedily returned to the Chamber, where finding his cloathes
vnder the beds head, ſhee needed no inſtruction for ſearch in his pockets.
But hauing found the gold, which Andrea indiſcreetely carried alwayes about
him, as thinking it could no where elſe be ſo ſafe: This was all ſhee
aymed at, and for which ſhee had enſnared him, faigning her ſelfe to be of
Palermo, and Daughter to Piero of Perouſe, ſo that not regarding him any
longer, but making faſt the houſe of Office doore, there ſhee left him in
that miſerable taking.
Poore Andrea perceiuing, that his calles could get no anſwer from the
Lad; cryed out louder, but all to no purpoſe: when ſeeing into his owne
ſimplicity, and vnderſtanding his error, though ſomewhat too late, hee
made ſuch meanes conſtrainedly, that he got ouer a wall, which ſeuered
that foule ſinke from the Worlds eye; and being in the open ſtreete, went
to the doore of the Houſe, which then he knew too well to his coſt, making
loude exclaimes with rapping and knocking, but all as fruitleſſe as
before. Sorrowing exceedingly, and manifeſtly beholding his misfortune;
Alas (quoth he) how ſoone haue I loſt a Siſter, and fiue hundred
Crownes beſides? with many other words, loude calles, and beatings vpon
the doore without intermiſſion, the neighbours finding themſelues
diſeaſed, and vnable to endure ſuch ceaſeleſſe vexation, roſe from their
beds, and called to him, deſiring him to be gone and let them reſt. A
maide alſo of the ſame Houſe, looking forth at the window, and ſeeming
as newly raiſed from ſleepe, called to him, ſaying; What noyſe is that beneath?
Why Virgin (anſwered Andrea) know you not me? I am Andrea
de Piero, Brother to your Miſtreſſe Fiordeliza. Thou art a drunken knaue,
replied the Maide, more full of drinke then wit, goe ſleepe, goe ſleepe,
and come againe to morrow: for I know no Andrea de Piero, neither hath
my Miſtreſſe any ſuch Brother, get thee gone good man, and ſuffer vs to
ſleepe I pray thee. How now (quoth Andrea) doeſt thou not vnderſtand
what I ſay? Thou knoweſt that I ſupt with thy Miſtreſſe this night; but if
our Sicilian kindred be ſo ſoone forgot, I pray thee giue me my cloathes
which I left in my Chamber, and then very gladly will I get mee gone.
Hereat the Maide laughing out aloude, ſaide; Surely the man is mad, or
walketh the ſtreetes in a dreame; and ſo claſping faſt the window, away
ſhee went and left him.
Now could Andrea aſſure himſelfe, that his gold and cloathes were
paſt recouery, which mouing him to the more impatience, his former
interceſſions became conuerted into fury, and what hee could not compaſſe
by faire entreats, he entended to winne by outrage and violence, ſo
that taking vp a great ſtone in his hand, hee layed vpon the doore very
powerfull ſtrokes. The neighbours hearing this moleſtation ſtill, admitting
them not the leaſt reſpite of reſt, reputing him for a troubleſome fellow,
and that he vſed thoſe counterfet words, onely to diſturbe the Miſtreſſe
of the Houſe, and all that dwelled neere about her; looking againe
out at their windowes, they altogether began to rate and reproue him,
euen like ſo many bawling Curres, barking at a ſtrange dog paſſing thorow
the ſtreete. This is ſhamefull villany (quoth one) and not to be ſuffered,
that honeſt women ſhould be thus moleſted in their houſes, with
fooliſh idle words, and at ſuch an vnſeaſonable time of the night. For
Gods ſake (good man) be gone, and let vs ſleepe; if thou haue any thing
to ſay to the Gentlewoman of the Houſe, come to morrow in the day
time, and no doubt but ſhee will make thee ſufficient anſwer.
Andrea being ſomewhat pacified with theſe ſpeeches, a ſhag-hairde
ſwaſh-buckler, a grim-viſagde Ruffian (as ſildome bawdy houſes are without
ſuch ſwaggering Champions) not ſeene or heard by Andrea, all the
while of his being in the houſe rapping out two or three terrible oathes,
opened a caſement, and with a ſtearne dreadfull voyce, demaunded who
durſt keepe that noyſe beneath? Andrea fearefully looking vp, and (by a
little glimmering of the Moone) ſeeing ſuch a rough fellow, with a blacke
beard, ſtrowting like the quilles of a Porcupine, and patches on his face,
for hurts receiued in no honeſt quarels, yawning alſo and ſtretching, as
angry to haue his ſleepe diſturbed: trembling and quaking, anſwered; I
am the Gentlewomans brother of the houſe. The Ruffian interrupting
him, and ſpeaking more fiercely then before; ſealing his words with horrible
oathes, ſaid. Sirra, Raſcall, I know not of whence or what thou
art, but if I come downe to thee, I will ſo bombaſt thy prating coxcombe,
as thou was neuer better beaten in all thy life, like a drunken ſlaue
and beaſt as thou art, that all this night wilt not let vs ſleepe; and ſo hee
clapt to the window againe.
The neighbours, well acquainted with this Ruffians rude conditions,
ſpeaking in gentle manner to Andrea, ſaid. Shift for thy ſelfe (good man)
in time, and tarrie not for his comming downe to thee; except thou art
wearie of thy life, be gone therefore, and ſay thou haſt a friendly warning.
Theſe words diſmaying Andrea, but much more the ſtearne oathes
and vgly ſight of the Ruffian, incited alſo by the neighbours counſell,
whom he imagined to aduiſe him in charitable manner: it cauſed him to
depart thence, taking the way homeward to his Inne, in no meane affliction
and torment of minde, for the monſtrous abuſe offered him, and
loſſe of his money. Well he remembred the paſſages, whereby (the day
before) the young Girle had guided him, but the loathſome ſmell about
him, was ſo extreamely offenſiue to himſelfe: that, deſiring to waſh him
at the Sea ſide, he ſtrayed too farre wide on the contrary hand, wandring
vp the ſtreete called Ruga Gatellana.
Proceeding on ſtill, euen to the higheſt part of the Citie, hee eſpied a
Lanthorne and light, as alſo a man carrying it, and another man with
him in company, both of them comming towards him. Now, becauſe
he ſuſpected them two of the watch, or ſome perſons that would apprehend
him: he ſlept aſide to ſhunne them, and entred into an olde houſe
hard by at hand. The other mens intention was to the very ſame place,
and going in, without any knowledge of Andreaes being there, one of
them layd downe diuers inſtruments of yron, which he had brought thither
on his backe, and had much talke with his fellow concerning thoſe
engines. At laſt one of them ſaid, I ſmell the moſt abhominable ſtinke,
that euer I felt in all my life. So, lifting vp his Lanthorne, he eſpied poore
pittifull Andrea, cloſely couched behinde the wall. Which ſight ſomewhat
affrighting him, he yet boldly demaunded, what and who hee was:
whereto Andrea aunſwered nothing, but lay ſtill and held his peace.
Neerer they drew towards him with their light, demaunding how hee
came thither, and in that filthy manner.
Conſtraint hauing now no other euaſion, but that (of neceſſity) all
muſt out: hee related to them the whole aduenture, in the ſame ſort as it
had befalne him. They greatly pittying his misfortune, one of them ſaid
to the other. Queſtionleſſe, this villanie was done in the houſe of Scarabone
Buttafuoco; And then turning to Andrea, proceeded thus. In good
faith poore man, albeit thou haſt loſt thy money, yet art thou highly beholding
to Fortune, for falling (though in a foule place) yet in ſuccesfull
manner, and entring no more backe into the houſe. For, beleeue mee
friend, if thou hadſt not falne, but quietly gone to ſleepe in the houſe;
that ſleepe had beene thy laſt in this world, and with thy money, thou
hadſt loſt thy life likewiſe. But teares and lamentations are now helpleſſe,
becauſe, as eaſily mayeſt thou plucke the Starres from the firmament,
as get a gaine the leaſt doyt of thy loſſe. And for that ſhag-haird
Slaue in the houſe, he will be thy deaths-man, if he but vnderſtand, that
thou makeſt any enquiry after thy money. When he had thus admoniſhed
him, he began alſo in this manner to comfort him. Honeſt fellow,
we cannot but pitty thy preſent condition, wherfore, if thou wilt friendly
aſſociate vs, in a buſineſſe which wee are inſtantly going to effect: thy
loſſe hath not beene ſo great, but on our words wee will warrant thee,
that thine immediate gaine ſhall farre exceede it. What will not a man
(in deſperate extremity) both well like and allow of, eſpecially, when it
carrieth apparance of preſent comfort? So fared it with Andrea, hee perſwaded
himſelfe, worſe then had already happened, could not befall him;
and therefore he would gladly aduenture with them.
The ſelfe ſame day preceding this diſaſtrous night to Andrea, in the
chiefe Church of the Citie, had beene buried the Archbiſhop of Naples,
named Signior Philippo Minutulo, in his richeſt pontificall roabes and ornaments,
and a Ruby on his finger, valued to be worth fiue hundred duckets
of gold: this dead body they purpoſed to rob and rifle, acquainting
Andrea with their whole intent, whoſe neceſſity (coupled with a couetous
deſire) made him more forward then well aduiſed, to ioyne with
them in this ſacriligious enterpriſe. On they went towards the great
Church, Andreaes vnſauourie perfume much diſpleaſing them, wherevpon
the one ſaid to his fellow. Can we deuiſe no eaſe for this foule and
noyſome inconuenience? the very ſmell of him will be a meanes to betray
vs. There is a Well-pit hard by, anſwered the other, with a pulley
and bucket deſcending downe into it, and there we may waſh him from
this filthineſſe. To the Well-pit they came, where they found the rope
and pulley hanging ready, but the bucket (for ſafety) was taken away:
whereon they concluded, to faſten the rope about him, and ſo let him
downe into the Well-pit, and when he had waſhed himſelfe, hee ſhould
wagge the rope, and then they would draw him vp againe, which accordingly
they forth-with performed.
Now it came to paſſe, that while hee was thus waſhing himſelfe in the
Well-pit, the watch of the Citie walking the round, and finding it to be
a very hote and ſweltring night; they grew dry and thirſty, and therefore
went to the Well to drinke. The other two men, perceiuing the Watch
ſo neere vpon them: left Andrea in the Pit to ſhift for himſelfe, running
away to ſhelter themſelues. Their flight was not diſcouered by the
Watch, but they comming to the Well-pit, Andrea remained ſtill in
the bottome, and hauing cleanſed himſelfe ſo well as hee could, ſate
wagging the rope, expecting when hee ſhould be haled vp. This dumbe
ſigne the Watch diſcerned not, but ſitting downe by the Wells ſide,
they layde downe their Billes and other weapons, tugging to draw vp
the rope, thinking the Bucket was faſtened thereto, and full of water.
Andrea being haled vp to the Pits brim, left holding the rope any longer,
catching faſt hold with his hands for his better ſafety: and the Watch
at the ſight heereof being greatly affrighted, as thinking that they had
dragd vp a Spirit; not daring to ſpeake one word, ranne away with all the
haſt they could make.
Andrea hereat was not a little amazed, ſo that if he had not taken very
good hold on the brim: he might haue falne to the bottome, and doubtleſſe
there his life had periſhed. Being come forth of the Well, and treading
on Billes and Halbards, which he well knew that his companions had
not brought thither with them; his meruaile ſo much the more encreaſed,
ignorance and feare ſtill ſeizing on him, with ſilent bemoaning his
many misfortunes, away thence he wandred, but hee wiſt not whither.
As he went on, he met his two fellowes, who purpoſely returned to drag
him out of the Well, and ſeeing their intent already performed, deſired
to know who had done it: wherein Andrea could not reſolue them, rehearſing
what hee could, and what weapons hee found lying about the
Well. Whereat they ſmiled, as knowing, that the Watch had haled
him vp, for feare of whom they left him, and ſo declared to him the reaſon
of their returne.
Leauing off all further talke, becauſe now it was about midnight, they
went to the great Church, where finding their entrance to be eaſie: they
approached neere the Tombe, which was very great, being all of Marble,
and the couer-ſtone weighty, yet with crowes of yron and other
helps, they raiſed it ſo high, that a man might without perill paſſe into
it. Now began they to queſtion one another, which of the three ſhould
enter into the Tombe. Not I, ſaid the firſt; ſo ſaid the ſecond: No, nor I,
anſwered Andrea. Which when the other two heard, they caught faſt hold
of him, ſaying. Wilt not thou goe into the Tombe? Be aduiſed what thou
ſayeſt, for, if thou wilt not goe in: we will ſo beat thee with one of theſe
yron crowes, that thou ſhalt neuer goe out of this Church aliue.
Thus poore Andrea is ſtill made a property, and Fortune (this fatall
night) will haue no other foole but he, as delighting in his hourly diſaſters.
Feare of their fury makes him obedient, into the graue he goes, and being
within, thus conſults with himſelfe. Theſe cunning companions ſuppoſe
me to be ſimple, & make me enter the Tombe, hauing an abſolute intention
to deceiue me. For, when I haue giuen them all the riches that I finde
here, and am ready to come forth for mine equall portion: away will they
runne for their owne ſafety, and leauing me here, not onely ſhall I looſe
my right among them, but muſt remaine to what danger may follow
after. Hauing thus meditated, he reſolued to make ſure of his owne ſhare
firſt, and remembring the rich Ring, whereof they had tolde him: forthwith
hee tooke it from the Archbiſhops finger, finding it indifferently
fitte for his owne. Afterward, hee tooke the Croſſe, Miter, rich garments,
Gloues and all, leauing him nothing but his ſhirt, giuing them
all theſe ſeuerall parcels; proteſting, that there was nothing elſe. Stil they
preſſed vpon him, affirming that there was a Ring beſide, vrging him to
ſearch diligently for it; yet ſtill he anſwered, that hee could not finde it,
and for their longer tarying with him, ſeemed as if he ſerched very carefully,
but all appeared to no purpoſe.
The other two fellowes, as cunning in craft as the third could be, ſtill
willed him to ſearch, and watching their apteſt opportunity: tooke away
the props that ſupported the Tombe-ſtone, and running thence
with their got booty, left poore Andrea mewed vp in the graue. Which
when he perceiued, and ſaw this miſery to exceede all the reſt, it is farre
eaſier for you to gueſſe at his greefe, then I am any way able to expreſſe
it. His head, ſhoulders, yea all his vtmoſt ſtrength he employeth, to remoue
that ouer-heauy hinderer of his liberty: but all his labour beeing
ſpent in vaine, ſorrow threw him in a ſwoond vpon the Byſhoppes dead
body, where if both of them might at that inſtant haue bene obſerued, the
Arch-byſhops dead body, and Andrea in greefe dying, very hardly had
bene diſtinguiſhed. But his ſenſes regaining their former offices, among
his ſilent complaints, conſideration preſented him with choyſe of theſe
two vnauoydable extremities. Dye ſtaruing muſt he in the tombe, with
putrifaction of the dead body; or if any man came to open the Graue,
then muſt he be apprehended as a ſacrilegious Theefe, and ſo be hanged,
according to the lawes in that caſe prouided.
As he continued in theſe ſtrange afflictions of minde, ſodainely hee
heard a noiſe in the Church of diuers men, who (as he imagined) came
about the like buſineſſe, as hee and his fellowes had vndertaken before;
wherein he was not a iot deceiued, albeit his feare the more augmented.
Hauing opened the Tombe, and ſupported the ſtone, they varied alſo among
themſelues for entrance, and an indiffrent while contended about
it. At length, a Prieſt being one in the company, boldly ſaid. Why how
now you white-liuer'd Raſcals? What are you affraid of? Do you thinke
he will eate you? Dead men cannot bite, and therefore I my ſelfe will go
in. Hauing thus ſpoken, he prepared his entrance to the Tombe in ſuch
order, that he thruſt in his feete before, for his eaſier deſcending downe
into it.
Andrea ſitting vpright in the Tombe, and deſiring to make vſe of this
happy opportunity, caught the Prieſt faſt by one of his legges, making
ſhew as if he meant to dragge him downe. Which when the Prieſt felt,
he cryed out aloud, getting out with all the haſt he could make, and all
his companions, being well neere frighted out of their wits, ranne away
amaine, as if they had bene followed by a thouſand diuels
•
. Andrea little
dreaming on ſuch fortunate ſucceſſe, made meanes to get out of the
graue, and afterward forth of the Church, at the very ſame place where he
entred.
Now began day-light to appeare, when hee, hauing the rich Ring on
his finger, wandred on hee knew not whether: till comming to the Seaſide,
he found the way directing to his Inne, where all his company were
with his Hoſt, who had bene very carefull for him. Hauing related his
manifold miſchances, his Hoſte friendly aduiſed him with ſpeede to get
him out of Naples. As inſtantly he did, returning home to Perouſe, hauing
aduentured his fiue hundred Crownes on a Ring, where-with hee
purpoſed to haue bought Horſes, according to the intent of his iourney
thither.
Madame Beritola Caracalla, was found in an Iſland with two Goates, hauing lost her two Sonnes, and thence trauailed into Lunigiana: where one of her Sonnes became ſeruant to the Lord thereof, and was found ſomewhat ouerfamiliar with his Masters daughter, who therefore cauſed him to bee impriſoned. Afterward, when the Country of Sicily rebelled againſt K. Charles, the aforeſaid Sonne chanced to be knowne by his Mother, and was married to his Maſters daughter. And his Brother being found likewiſe; they both returned to great eſtate and credit.
The ſixt Nouell.
Heerein all men are admoniſhed, neuer to diſtruſt the powerfull hand of Heauen, when Fortune ſeemeth to be moſt aduerſe againſt them.
THe Ladies and Gentlemen alſo, hauing ſmiled ſufficiently at the ſeuerall
accidents which did befall the poore Traueller Andrea, reported
at large by Madame Fiametta, the Lady Aemillia, ſeeing her tale to be
fully concluded, began (by commandement of the Queene) to ſpeake in
this manner.
The diuerſitie of changes and alterations in Fortune as they are great,
ſo muſt they needs be greeuous; and as often as we take occaſion to talk
of them, as often do they awake and quicken our vnderſtandings, auouching,
that it is no eaſie matter to depend vpon her flatteries. And I am
of opinion, that to heare them recounted, ought not any way to offend
vs, be it of men wretched or fortunate; becauſe, as they inſtruſt the one
with good aduiſe, ſo they animate the other with comfort. And therefore,
although great occaſions haue beene already related, yet I purpoſe
to tell a Tale, no leſſe true then lamentable; which albeit it ſorted to a ſucceſſefull
ending, yet notwithſtanding, ſuch and ſo many were the bitter
thwartings, as hardly can I beleeue, that euer any ſorrow was more ioyfully
ſweetened.
You muſt vnderſtand then (moſt gracious Ladies) that after the death
of Fredericke the ſecond Emperour, one named Manfred, was crowned
King of Sicilie, about whom liued in great account and authority, a Neapolitane
Gentleman, called Henriet Capece, who had to Wife a beautifull
Gentlewoman, and a Neapolitane alſo, named Madam Beritola Caracalla.
This Henriet held the gouernment of the Kingdome of Sicilie, and vnderſtanding,
that King Charles the firſt, had wonne the battle at Beneuentum,
and ſlaine King Maufred; the whole Kingdome reuolting alſo to his deuotion,
and little truſt to be repoſed in the Sicillians, or he willing to ſubiect
himſelfe to his Lords enemy; prouided for his ſecret flight from
thence. But this being diſcouered to the Sicillians, he and many more,
who had beene loyall ſeruants to King Manfred, were ſuddenly taken and
impriſoned by King Charles, and the ſole poſſeſſion of the Iland confirmed
to him.
Madam Beritola not knowing (in ſo ſudden and ſtrange an alteration
of State affaires) what was become of her Husband, fearing alſo greatly
before, thoſe inconueniences which afterward followed; being ouercome
with many paſſionate conſiderations, hauing left and forſaken all
her goods, going aboard a ſmall Barke with a Sonne of hers, aged about
ſome eight yeeres, named Geoffrey, and growne great with childe with another;
ſhee fled thence to Lipary, where ſhee was brought to bed of another
Sonne, whom ſhee named (anſwerable both to his and her hard fortune)
The poore expelled.
Hauing prouided her ſelfe of a Nurſe, they altogether went aboard againe,
ſetting ſayle for Naples to viſit her Parents; but it chanced quite
contrary to her expectation, becauſe by ſtormie windes and weather, the
veſſell being bound for Naples, was hurried to the Ile of Ponzo, where entring
into a ſmall Port of the Sea, they concluded to make their aboade,
till a time more furtherous ſhould fauour their voyage.
As the reſt, ſo did Madam Boritola goe on ſhore in the Iland, where hauing
found a ſeparate and ſolitary place, fit for her ſilent and ſad meditations,
ſecretly by her ſelfe, ſhee ſorrowed for the abſence of her husband.
Reſorting daily to this her ſad exerciſe, and continuing there her complaints,
vnſeene by any of the Marriners, or whoſoeuer elſe: there arriued
ſuddenly a Galley of Pyrates, who ſeazing on the ſmall Barke, carried it
and all the reſt in it away with them. When Beritola had finiſhed her wofull
complaints, as daily ſhee was accuſtomed to doe, ſhee returned backe
to her children againe; but finding no perſon there remaining, whereat
ſhe wondered not a little: immediately (ſuſpecting what had happened
indeede) ſhe lent her lookes on the Sea, and ſaw the Galley, which as yet
had not gone farre, drawing the ſmaller veſſell after her. Heereby plainly
ſhe perceyued, that now ſhe had loſt her children, as formerly ſhee had
done her husband; being left there poore, forſaken, and miſerable, not
knowing when, where, or how to finde any of them againe, and calling
for her husband and children, ſhee fell downe in a ſwound vppon the
ſhore.
Now was not any body neere, with coole water or any other remedy,
to helpe the recouery of her loſt powers; wherefore her ſpirites might
the more freely wander at their own pleaſure: but after they were returned
backe againe, and had won their wonted offices in her body, drowned
in teares, and wringing her hands, ſhee did nothing but call for her
children and husband, ſtraying all about, in hope to finde them, ſeeking
in Caues, Dennes, and euery where elſe, that preſented the verie leaſt
glimpſe of comfort. But when ſhe ſaw all her paines ſort to no purpoſe,
and darke night drawing ſwiftly on, hope and diſmay raiſing infinit perturbations,
made her yet to be ſomewhat reſpectiue of her ſelfe, & therefore
departing from the ſea-ſhore, he returned to the ſolitary place, where
ſhe vſed to ſigh and mourne alone by her ſelfe.
The night being ouer-paſt with infinite feares and affrights, & bright
day ſaluting the world againe, with the expence of nine hours and more,
ſhe fell to her former fruitleſſe trauailes. Being ſomewhat ſharply bitten
with hunger, becauſe the former day and night ſhee hadde not taſted
any food: ſhe made therefore a benefit of neceſſity, and fed on the green
hea
•
bes ſo well as ſhe could, notwithout many piercing afflictions, what
ſhould become of her in this extraordinary miſery. As ſhee walked in
theſe penſiue meditations, ſhe ſaw a Goate enter into a Caue, and (within
a while after) come forth againe, wandering along thorow the woods.
Whereupon ſhe ſtayed, and entred where ſhe ſaw the beaſt iſſue forth,
where ſhe found two yong Kids, yeaned (as it ſeemed) the ſelfeſame day,
which ſight was very pleaſing to her, and nothing (in that diſtreſſe) could
more content her.
As yet ſhe had milke freſhly running in both her breſts, by reaſon of
her ſo late deliuery in child-bed; wherefore ſhee lay downe vnto the two
yong Kids, and taking them tenderly in her armes, ſuffered each of them
to ſucke a teate, whereof they made not any refuſall, but tooke them as
louingly as their dammes, and from that time forward, they made no diſtinguiſhing
betweene their damme and her. Thus this vnfortunate Lady,
hauing found ſome company in this ſolitary deſert, fed on hearbes &
roots▪ drinking faire running water, and weeping ſilently to her ſelfe, ſo
often as ſhe remembred her husband, children, and former dayes paſt in
much better maner. Here ſhee reſolued now to liue and dye, being at
laſt depriued both of the damme and yonger Kids alſo, by theyr wandering
further into the neere adioyning Woods, according to their Naturall
inclinations; whereby the poore diſtreſſed Lady became more ſauage
and wilde in her daily conditions, then otherwiſe ſhee would haue
bene.
After many monthes were ouer-paſſed, at the very ſame place where
ſhe tooke landing; by chance, there arriued another ſmall veſſell of certaine
Piſans, which remained there diuers dayes. In this Bark was a Gentleman,
named Conrado de Marcheſi Maleſpini, with his holy and vertuous
wife, who were returned backe from a Pilgrimage, hauing viſited all the
ſanctified places, that then were in the Kingdome of Apulia, & now were
bound homeward to their owne abiding. This Gentleman, for the expelling
of melancholy perturbations, one eſpeciall day amongſt other,
with his wife, ſeruants, and waiting hounds, wandered vp into the Iland,
not far from the place of Madam Beritolaes deſert dwelling. The hounds
queſting after game, at laſt happened on the two Kiddes where they were
feeding, and (by this time) had attained to indifferent growth: and finding
themſelues thus purſued by the hounds, fled to no other part of the
wood, then to the Caue where Beritola remained, and ſeeming as if they
ſought to be reſcued only by her, ſhe ſodainly caught vp a ſtaffe, and forced
the hounds thence to flight.
By this time, Conrado and his wife, who had followed cloſely after the
hounds, was come thither, and ſeeing what had hapned, looking on the
Lady, who was become blacke, ſwarthy, meager, and hairy, they wondered
not a little at her, and ſhe a great deale more at them. When (vpon
her req
•
eſt) Conrado had checkt back his hounds, they preuailed ſo much
by earneſt intreaties, to know what ſhe was, and the reaſon of her liuing
there; that ſhe intirely related her quality, vnfortunate accidents, and
ſtrange determination for liuing there. Which when the Gentleman had
heard, who very well knew her husband, compaſſion forced teares from
his eyes, and earneſtly he laboured by kinde perſwaſions, to alter ſo cruel
a deliberation; making an honourable offer, for conducting her home
to his owne dwelling, where ſhee ſhould remaine with him in noble reſpect,
as if ſhe were his owne ſiſter, without parting from him, till Fortune
ſhould ſmile as fairely on her, as euer ſhe had done before.
When theſe gentle offers could not preuaile with her, the Gentleman
left his wife in her company, ſaying, that he would go fetch ſome foode
for her; and becauſe her garments were all rent and torne, hee woulde
bring her other of his wiues, not doubting but to winne her thence with
them. His wife abode there with Beritola, very much bemoaning her
great diſaſters, and when both viands and garments were brought: by
extremity of interceſſion, they cauſed her to put them on, and alſo to
feede with them, albeit ſhe proteſted, that ſhee would not part thence
into any place, where any knowledge ſhould be taken of her. In the end,
they perſwaded her, to go with them into Lunigiana, carrying alſo with
her the two yong Goats and their damme, which were then in the Caue
altogether, prettily playing before Beritola, to the great admiration of
Conrado and his wife, as alſo the ſeruants attending on them.
When the windes and weather grew fauourable for them, Madam
Beritola went aboard with Conrado and his wife, being followed by the
two young Goates and his Damme; and becauſe her name ſhould bee
knowne to none but Conrado, and his wife onely, ſhee would be ſtiled no
otherwiſe, but the Goatherdeſſe. Merrily, yet gently blew the gale, which
brought them to enter the Riuer of Macra, where going on ſhore, and
into their owne Caſtell, Beritola kept company with the wife of Conrado,
but in a mourning habite, and a wayting Gentlewoman of hers, honeſt,
humble, and very dutifull, the Goates alwayes familiarly keeping them
company.
Returne wee now to the Pyrates, which at Ponzo ſeized on the ſmall
Barke, wherein Madam Beritola was brought thither, and carried thence
away, without any ſight or knowledge of her. With ſuch other ſpoiles
as they had taken, they ſhaped their courſe for Geneway, and there (by
conſent of the Patrones of the Galley) made a diuiſion of their booties.
It came to paſſe, that (among other things) the Nurſe that attended on
Beritola, and the two with her Children, fell to the ſhare of one Meſſer
Gaſparino d'Oria, who ſent them together to his owne Houſe, there to be
employed in ſeruice as ſeruants. The Nurſe weeping beyond meaſure
for the loſſe of her Lady, and bemoaning her owne miſerable fortune,
whereinto ſhee was now fallen with the two young Laddes; after long
lamenting, which ſhee found vtterly fruitleſſe and to none effect, though
ſhe was vſed as a ſeruant with them, and being but a very poore woman,
yet was ſhee wiſe and diſcreetly aduiſed. Wherefore, comforting both
her ſelfe, and them ſo well as ſhe could, and conſidering the depth of their
diſaſter; ſhee conceited thus, that if the Children ſhould be knowne, it
might redounde to their greater danger, and ſhee be no way aduantaged
thereby.
Hereupon, hoping that Fortune (early or late) would alter her ſtearne
malice, and that they might (if they liued) regaine once more their former
condition: ſhee would not diſcloſe them to any one whatſoeuer, till
ſhee ſhould ſee the time aptly diſpoſed for it. Being thus determined, to
all ſuch as queſtioned her concerning them, ſhe anſwered that they were
her owne Children,Or Grannotto da Prochyta. naming the eldeſt not Geoffrey, but Iehannot de Procida.
As for the youngeſt, ſhee cared not greatly for changing his name,
and therefore wiſely enformed Geoffrey, vpon what reaſon ſhee had altered
his name, and what danger be might fall into, if he ſhould otherwiſe
be diſcouered; being not ſatisfied with thus telling him once, but remembring
him thereof very often, which the gentle youth (being ſo well inſtructed
by the wiſe and carefull Nurſe) did very warily obſerue.
The two young Laddes, very poorely garmented, but much worſe
hoſed and ſhodde, continued thus in the houſe of Gaſparino, where both
they and the Nurſe were long time imployed, about very baſe and drudging
Offices, which yet they endured with admirable patience. But Iehannot,
aged already about ſixteene yeeres, hauing a loftier ſpirit, then
belonged to a ſlauiſh ſeruant, deſpiſing the baſeneſſe of his ſeruile condition;
departed from the drudgery of Meſſer Gaſparino, and going aboard
the Gallies, which were bound for Alexandria, fortuned into many places,
yet none of them affoording him any aduancement. In the ende, about
three or foure houres after his departure from Gaſparino, being now
a braue young man, and of very goodly forme: he vnderſtood, that his Father
(whom he ſuppoſed to be dead) was as yet liuing; but in captiuity,
and priſoner to King Charles. Wherefore, deſpairing of any ſucceſſefull
fortune, hee wandred here and there, till he came to Lunigiana, and
there (by ſtrange accident) he became ſeruant to Meſſer Conrado Maleſpina,
where the ſeruice proued well liking to them both.
Very ſildome times hee had a ſight of his Mother, becauſe ſhee alwayes
kept company with Conradoes wife; and yet when they came within
view of each other, ſhee knew not him, nor he her, ſo much yeeres had
altered them both, from what they were wont to be, and when they ſaw
each other laſt. Iehannot being thus in the ſeruice of Meſſer Conrado, it
fortuned that a daughter of his, named Spina, being the Widdow of one
Meſſer Nicolas Grignan, returned home to her Fathers Houſe. Very beautifull
and amiable ſhee was, young likewiſe, aged but little aboue ſixteene;
growing wonderouſly amorous of Iehannot, and he of her, in extraordinary
and moſt feruent manner; which loue was not long without full effect,
continuing many mo
•
eths before any perſon could perceiue it:
which making them to build on the more aſſurance, they began to carrie
their meanes with leſſe diſcretion, then is required in ſuch nice caſes, and
which cannot be too prouidently managed.
Vpon a day, he and ſhee walking to a goodly wood, plentifully furniſhed
with ſpreading Trees, hauing out-gone the reſt of their company;
they made choiſe of a pleaſant place, very daintily ſhaded, and beautified
with all ſorts of floures. There they ſpent ſometime in amorous diſcourſe,
beſide ſome other ſweete embraces, which though it ſeemed ouer-ſhort
to them, yet was it ſo vnaduiſedly prolonged; that they were on a ſudden
ſurprized, firſt by the Mother, and next by Meſſer Conrado himſelfe: who
greeuing beyond meaſure, to be thus trecherouſly dealt withall, cauſed
them to be apprehended by three of his ſeruants, and (without telling
them any reaſon why) ledde bound to another Caſtle of his, and fretting
with extremity of rage, concluded in his minde, that they ſhould both
ſhamefully be put to death.
The Mother to this regardleſſe Daughter, hauing heard the angry
words of her Husband, and how hee would be reuenged on the faultie;
could not endure that he ſhould be ſo ſeuere: wherefore, although ſhee
was likewiſe much afflicted in minde, and reputed her Daughter worthy
(for ſo great an offence) of all cruell puniſhment:
•
yet ſhee haſted to her
diſpleaſed husband, who began to entreate, that he would not runne on
in ſuch a furious ſpleene, now in his aged yeares, to be the murtherer of
his owne childe, and ſoile his hands in the blood of his ſeruant. Rather
he might finde out ſome milde courſe for the ſatisfaction of his Anger,
by committing them to cloſe impriſonment, there to remaine & mourne
for their follie committed. The vertuous and religious Lady alledged
ſo many commendable examples, and vſed ſuch plenty of moouing perſwaſions;
that ſhe quite altred his minde, from putting them to death,
and he commanded onely, that they ſhould ſeparately bee impriſoned,
with little ſtore of foode, and lodging of the vneaſieſt, vntill hee ſhould
otherwiſe determine of them, and ſo it was done. What their life now
was in captiuity and continuall teares, with ſtricter abſtinence then was
needefull for them; all this I muſt commit to your conſideration.
Iehannot and Spina remaining in this comfortleſſe condition, and an
whole yeere being now out-worne, yet Conrado keeping them thus ſtill
impriſoned: it came to paſſe, that Don Pedro King of Arragon, by the
meanes of Meſſer Iohn de Procida, cauſed the Iſle of Sicily to reuolt, and
tooke it away from King Charles, whereat Conrado (he being of the Ghibbiline
faction) not a little reioyced. Iehannot hauing intelligence therof,
by ſome of them that had him in cuſtody, breathing foorth a vehement
ſigh, ſpake in this manner. Alas poore miſerable wretch as I am! that
haue already gone begging through the world aboue fourteene yeares,
in expectation of nothing elſe but this opportunity; and now it is come,
muſt I be in priſon, to the end, that I ſhould neuer more hope for any future
happineſſe? And how can I get forth of this priſon, except it be by
death onely? How now, replied the Officer of the Guard? What doth
this buſineſſe of great Kings concerne thee? What affaires haſt thou in
Sicily?
Once more Iehannot ſighed extreamly, and returned him this anſwer.
Me thinkes my heart (quoth hee) doth cleaue in ſunder, when I call to
minde the charge which my Father had there, for although I was but a
little boy when I fled thence: yet I can well remember, that I ſawe him
Gouernour there, at ſuch time as King Manfred liued. The Guard, purſuing
on ſtill his purpoſe, demanded of him, what, and who his Father
was? My Father (replyed Iehannot) I may now ſecurely ſpeake of him,
being out of the perill which neerely concerned me if I had beene diſcouered.
He was the named (and ſo ſtill if he be liuing) Henriet Capece, and
my name is Geoffrey, not Iehannot; and I make no doubt, but if I vvere
free from hence, and might be returned home to Sicily, I ſhould (for his
ſake) be placed in ſome authority.
The honeſt man of the Guard, without ſeeking after any further information;
ſo ſoone as he could compaſſe the leyſure, reported all to Meſſer
Conrado, who hauing heard theſe newes (albeit he made no ſhew therof
to the reuealer) went to Madam Beritola, graciouſly demaunding of
her, if ſhe had any ſonne by her husband, who was called Geoffrey. The
Lady replyed in teares, that if her eldeſt ſonne were as yet liuing, hee was
ſo named, and now aged about two and twenty yeares. Conrado hearing
this, imagined this ſame to be the man, conſidering further withall, that
if it fell out to proue ſo: he might haue the better meanes of mercie, and
cloſely concealing his daughters ſhame, ioyfully ioyne them in marriage
together.
Hereupon he ſecretly cauſed Iehannot to be brought before him, examining
him particularly of all his paſſed life, and finding (by moſt manifeſt
arguments) that his name was truly Geoffrey, & he the eldeſt ſon of Henriet
Capece, he ſpake to him alone in this manner. Iehannot, thou knoweſt how
great the iniuries which thou haſt done me, & my deare daughter, gently
entreating thee (as became a good & honeſt ſeruant) that thou ſhouldeſt
alwayes haue bin reſpectiue of mine honor, and all that do appertain vnto
me. There are many noble gentlewomen, who ſuſtaining the wrog which
thou haſt offred me, they would haue procured thy ſhameful death, which
pitty & compaſſion wil not ſuffer in me. Wherfore ſeeing (as thou informeſt
me) that thou art honorably deriued both by father & mother; I will
giue end to all thine anguiſhes, euen when thy ſelf art ſo pleaſed, releaſing
thee from the miſery & captiuity, wherein I haue ſo long time kept thee,
and in one inſtant, reduce thine honor & mine into compleat perfection.
As thou knoweſt, my Daughter Spina, whom thou haſt embraced in kindneſſe
as a friend (although farre vnfitting for thee or her) is a widow, and
her mariage is both great and good; what her manners and conditions
are, thou indifferently knoweſt, and art not ignorant of her Father and
Mother: concerning thine owne eſtate, as now I purpoſe not to ſpeake
any thing. Therefore, when thou wilt, I am ſo determined, that whereas
thou haſt immodeſtly affected her, ſhe ſhall become thy honeſt wife, and
accepting thee as my Son, to remain with me ſo long as you both pleaſe.
Impriſonment had ſomewhat miſhapen Iehannot in his outward forme,
but not impaired a iot of that noble ſpirit, really deriued from his famous
progenitors, much leſſe the true loue he bare to his faire friend. And although
moſt earneſtly he deſired that, which Conrado now ſo franckly offered
him, and was in his power onely to beſtow on him; yet could he not
cloude any part of his greatneſſe, but with a reſolued iudgement, thus replied.
My Lord, affectation of rule, deſire of wealthy poſſeſsions, or any
other matter whatſoeuer, could neuer make me a traytor to you or yours;
but that I haue loued, do loue & for euer ſhal loue your beautious daughter;
if that be treaſon, I freely cōfeſſe it, & wil die a thouſand deaths, before
you or any elſe ſhal enforce me to denie it; for I hold her highly worthy of
my loue. If I haue bin more vnmānerly with her, then became me, according
to the opinion of vulgar iudgment, I haue committed but that error,
which euermore is ſo attendant vpon youth; that to denie it, is to denie
youth alſo. And if reuerend age would but remember, that once he was
young, & meaſure others offences by his own; they would not be thought
ſo great or greeuous, as you (& many more) account them to be, mine being
cōmitted as a friend, & not as an enemy: what you make offer of ſo willingly
to do, I haue alwayes deſired, & if I had thought it would haue bin
granted, long ſince I had moſt humbly requeſted it; and ſo much the more
acceptable would it haue bin to me, by how much the further off it ſtood
from my hopes. But if you be ſo forward as your words doe witneſſe, then
feede mee not with any further fruitleſſe expectation: but rather ſend
me backe to priſon, and lay as many afflictions on mee as you pleaſe:
for my endeared loue to your Daughter Spina, maketh mee to loue
you the more for her ſake; how hardly ſoeuer you entreate me, & bindeth
me in the greater reuerence to you, as being the father of my faireſt friend.
Meſſer Conrado hearing theſe words, ſtood as one confounded with admiration,
reputing him to be a man of lofty ſpirit, and his affection moſt
feruent to his Daughter, which was as a little to his liking. Wherefore,
embracing him, and kiſſing his cheeke, without any longer dallying, hee
ſent in like manner for his Daughter. Her reſtraint in priſon had made
her lookes me ager, pale and wanne, and very weake was ſhee alſo of her
perſon, farre differing from the woman ſhee was wont to be, before her
affection to Iehannot; there in preſence of her Father, and with free conſent
of either, they were contracted as man and wife, and the eſpouſals agreed
on according to cuſtome. Some few dayes after, (without any
ones knowledge of that which was done) hauing furniſhed them with all
things fit for the purpoſe, and time aptly ſeruing, that the Mothers ſhould
be partakers in this ioy, he called his wife, and Madam Beritola, to whom
firſt he ſpake in this manner.
What will you ſay Madam, if I cauſe you to ſee your eldeſt Son, not
long ſince married to one of my Daughters? whereunto Beritola thus replied.
My Lord, I can ſay nothing elſe vnto you, but that I ſhall be much
more obliged to you, then already I am, and ſo much the rather, becauſe
you will let me ſee the thing which is dearer to me then mine owne life;
and rendring it vnto mee in ſuch manner as you ſpeake of, you will recall
backe ſome part of my former loſt hopes: and with theſe words the teares
ſtreamed aboundantly from her eyes. Then turning to his wife, he ſaide;
And you deare Loue, if I ſhew you ſuch a Sonne in Law, what will you
thinke of it? Sir (quoth ſhee) what pleaſeth you, muſt and ſhall ſatisfie me,
be he Gentleman, or a beggar. Well ſaid Madam, anſwered Meſſer Conrado,
I hope (within few dayes) to make you both ioyfull. So when the amorous
couple had recouered their former feature, and honourable garments
were prepared for them, priuately thus he ſaid to Geoffrey; Beyond
the ioy which already thou art inriched withall, how would it pleaſe thee
to meet with thine owne Mother here? I cannot beleeue Sir, replied Geoffrey,
that her greeuous misfortunes haue ſuffered her to liue ſo long: yet
notwithſtanding, if Heauen hath beene ſo merciful to her, my ioyes were
incomparable, for by her gracious counſell, I might well hope to recouer
no meane happineſſe in Sicilie. Within a while after, both the Mothers
were ſent for, who were tranſported with vnſpeakable ioyes, when they
beheld the ſo lately maried couple; being alſo much amazed, when they
could not gueſſe what inſpiration had guided Conrado to this extraordinary
benignity, ioyning Iehannot in mariage with Spina. Hereupon Madam
Beritola, remembring the ſpeeches between her and Conrado, began
to obſerue him very aduiſedly, and by a hidden vertue, which long had
ſilently ſlept in her, and now with ioy of ſpirit awaked, calling to minde
the lineatures of her Sonnes Infancy, without awaiting for any other
demonſtrations, ſhee folded him in her armes with earneſt affection.
Motherly ioy and pitty now contended ſo violently together, that
ſhee was not able to vtter one word, the ſenſitiue vertues being
ſo cloſely combined, that (euen as dead) ſhee fell downe in the armes of
her Sonne. And he wondering greatly thereat, making a better recollection
of his thoughts, did well remember, that he had often before ſeene
her in the Caſtell, without any other knowledge of her. Neuertheleſſe,
by meere inſtinct of Nature, whoſe power (in ſuch actions) declares it ſelfe
to be highly predominant; his very ſoule aſſured him, that ſhee was his
Mother, and blaming his vnderſtanding, that he had not before beene
better aduiſed, he threw his armes about her, and wept exceedingly.
Afterward, by the louing paines of Conradoes wife, as alſo her daughter
Spina, Madam Beritola (being recouered from her paſſionate trance,
and her vitall ſpirits executing their Offices againe;) fell once more to the
embracing of her Sonne, kiſſing him infinite times, with teares and ſpeeches
of motherly kindneſſe, he likewiſe expreſſing the ſame dutifull humanity
to her. Which ceremonious courteſies being paſſed ouer and ouer,
to no little ioy in all the beholders, beſide repetition of their ſeuerall
misfortunes. Meſſer Conrado made all knowne to his friends, who were
very glad of this new alliance made by him, which was honoured with
many ſolemn & magnificent feaſtings. Which being all concluded, Geoffrey
hauing found out fit place and opportunity, for conference with his
new created Father, without any ſiniſter oppoſition; began as followeth.
Honourable Father, you haue raiſed my contentment to the higheſt
degree, and haue heaped alſo many gracious fauours on my noble Mother;
but now in the finall concluſion, that nothing may remaine vneffected,
which conſiſteth in your power to performe: I would humbly entreate
you, to honour my Mother with your company, at a Feaſt of my
making, where I would gladly alſo haue my Brother preſent. Meſſer Gaſparino
d' Oria (as I haue once heretofore told you) queſting as a common
Pyrate on the Seas, tooke vs, and ſent vs home to his houſe as ſlaues,
where (as yet he detaineth him.) I would haue you likewiſe ſend one into
Sicilie, who informing himſelfe more amply in the ſtate of the Country;
may vnderſtand what is become of Henriet my Father, and whether he be
liuing or no. If he remaine aliue, to know in what condition he is; and being
ſecretly inſtructed in all things, then to returne backe againe to you.
This motion made by Geoffrey, was ſo pleaſing to Conrado, that without
any reference to further leyſure, hee diſpatched thence two diſcreete
perſons, the one to Geneway, and the other to Sicilie: he which went for
Geneway, hauing met with Gaſparino, earneſtly entreated him, (on the behalfe
of Conrado) to ſend him the Poore expelled; and his Nurſe recounting
euery thing in order, which Conrado had tolde him, concerning Geoffrey
and his Mother: when Gaſparino had heard the whole diſcourſe, he maruelled
greatly thereat, and ſaide; True it is, that I will doe any thing for
Meſſer Conrado, which may be to his loue and liking, prouided, that it
lie in my power to performe; and (about ſome foureteene yeeres ſince) I
brought ſuch a Lad as you ſeeke for, with his Mother home to my houſe,
whom I will gladly ſend vnto him. But you may tell him from me, that
I aduiſe him from ouer-raſh crediting the fables of Iehannot, that now
tearmes himſelfe by the name of Geoffrey, becauſe hee is a more wicked
boy, then he taketh him to be, and ſo did I find him.
Hauing thus ſpoken, and giuing kinde welcome to the Meſſenger, ſecretly
he called the Nurſe vnto him, whom he heedfully examined concerning
this caſe. Shee hauing heard the rebellion in the Kingdome of
Sicilie, and vnderſtanding withall, that Henriet was yet liuing; ioyfully
threw off all her former feare, relating euery thing to him orderly, and the
reaſons mouing her, to conceale the whole buſineſſe in ſuch manner as
ſhee had done. Gaſparino well perceiuing, that the report of the Nurſe,
and the meſſage receiued from Conrado, varied not in any one circumſtance,
beganne the better to credit her wordes. And being a man moſt
ingenious, making further inquiſition into the buſineſſe, by all the poſſible
meanes he could deuiſe, and finding euery thing to yeeld vndoubted
aſſurance; aſhamed of the vile and baſe vſage, wherein hee had ſo long
time kept the Ladde, and deſiring (by his beſt meanes) to make him amends;
he had a faire Daughter, aged about thirteene yeeres, and knowing
what manner of man he was, his father Henriet alſo yet liuing, he gaue
her to him in marriage, with a very bountifull and honourable dowry.
The iouiall dayes of feaſting being paſt, he went aboard a Galley, with
the Poore expelled; his Daughter, the Ambaſſadour, and the Nurſe, departing
thence to Lericy, where they were nobly welcommed by Meſſer Conrado,
and his Caſtle being not farre from thence, with an honourable
traine they were conducted thither, and entertained with all poſſible
kindneſſe. Now concerning the comfort of the Mother, meeting ſo happily
with both her Sonnes, the ioy of the Brethren and Mother together,
hauing alſo found the faithfull Nurſe, Gaſparino and his Daughter, in company
now with Conrado and his Wife, friends, familiars, and all generally
in a Iubilee of reioycing: it exceedeth capacity in me to expreſſe it; and
therefore I referre it to your more able imagination.
In the time of this mutuall contentment, to the ende that nothing
might be wanting, to compleat and perfect this vniuerſall ioy; our Lord,
a moſt aboundant beſtower where he beginneth, added long wiſhed tydings,
concerning the life and good eſtate of Henriet Capece. For, euen
as they were feaſting, and the concourſe great of worthy gueſts, both of
Lords and Ladies: the firſt ſeruice was ſcarcely ſet on the Tables, but the
Ambaſſador which was ſent to Sicilie, arriued there before them. Among
many other important matters, he ſpake of Henriet, who being ſo long a
time detained in priſon by King Charles, when the commotion aroſe in
the City againſt the King; the people (grudging at Henriets long impriſonment)
ſlew the Guards, and ſet him at liberty. Then as capitall enemy
to King Charles, he was created Captaine generall, following the chaſe,
and killing the French.
By meanes whereof, he grew great in the grace of King Pedro, who replanted
him in all the goods and honours which he had before, with very
high and eminent authority. Hereunto the Ambaſſadour added, that he
was entertained with extraordinary grace, and deliuery of publike ioy
and exaltation, when his Wife and Sonne were knowne to be liuing, of
whom no tydings had at any time beene heard, ſince the houre of his ſurprizall.
Moreouer, that a ſwift winged Barke was now ſent thither (vpon
the happy hearing of this newes) well furniſhed with noble Gentlemen,
to attend till their returning backe. We neede to make no doubt concerning
the tydings brought by this Ambaſſadour, nor of the Gentlemens
welcome, thus ſent to Madam Beritola and Geoffrey; who before they
would ſit downe at the Table, ſaluted Meſſer Conrado and his kinde Lady
(on the behalfe of Henriet) for all the great graces extended to her and
her Sonne, with promiſe of any thing, lying in the power of Henriet, to
reſt continually at their command. The like they did to Signior Gaſparino,
(whoſe liberall fauours came vnlooked for) with certaine aſſurance, that
when Henriet ſhould vnderſtand what hee had done for his other Sonne,
the Poore expelled; there would be no defailance of riciprocall courteſies.
As the longeſt ioyes haue no perpetuity of laſting, ſo all theſe gracefull
ceremonies had their concluſion, with as many ſighes and teares at parting,
as ioyes abounded at their firſt encountring. Imagine then, that
you ſee ſuch aboard, as were to haue here no longer abiding, Madam Beritola
and Geoffrey, with the reſt, as the Poore expelled, the ſo late married
Wiues, and the faithfull Nurſe bearing them company. With proſperous
windes they arriued in Sicilie, where the Wife, Sonnes, and Daughters,
were ioyfully met by Henriet at Palermo, and with ſuch honourable
pompe, as a caſe ſo important equally deſerued. The Hiſtories make further
mention, that there they liued (a long while after) in much felicity,
with thankfull hearts (no doubt) to Heauen, in acknowledgement of ſo
many great mercies receiued.
The Soldan of Babylon ſent one of his Daughters, to be ioyned in marriage with the King of Cholcos; who by diuers accidents (in the ſpace of foure yeeres) happened into the custody of nine men, and in ſundry places. At length being restored backe to her Father, ſhee went to the ſaide King of Cholcos, as a Maide, and as at firſt ſhee was intended to be his wife.
The ſeauenth Nouell.
Aliuely demonstration, that the beauty of a Woman, (oftentimes) is very hurtfull to her ſelfe, and the occaſion of many euils, yea, and of death, to diuers men.
PEraduenture the Nouell related by Madam Aemilia, did not extend it
ſelfe ſo farre in length, as it moued compaſſion in the Ladies mindes,
hearing the hard fortunes of Beritola and her Children, which had incited
them to weeping: but that it pleaſed the Queene (vpon the Tales concluſion)
to command Pamphilus, to follow (next in order) with his diſcourſe,
and hee being thereto very obedient, beganne in this manner.
It is a matter of no meane difficulty (vertuous Ladies) for vs to take intire
knowledge of euery thing we doe, becauſe (as oftentimes hath beene
obſerued) many men, imagining if they were rich, they ſhould liue ſecurely,
and without any cares. And therefore, not onely haue their
prayers and interceſſions aimed at that end, but alſo their ſtudies and daily
endeauours, without refuſall of any paines or perils haue not meanely
expreſſed their hourely ſolicitude. And although it hath happened accordingly
to them, and their couetous deſires fully accompliſhed; yet at
length they haue met with ſuch kinde of people, who likewiſe thirſting
after their wealthy poſſeſſions, haue bereft them of life, being their kinde
and intimate friends, before they attained to ſuch riches. Some other, being
of low and baſe condition, by aduenturing in many skirmiſhes and
foughten battels, trampling in the bloud of their brethren and friends,
haue beene mounted to the ſoueraigne dignity of Kingdomes, (beleeuing
that therein conſiſted the trueſt happineſſe) but bought with the deareſt
price of their liues. For, beſide their infinite cares and feares, wherewith
ſuch greatneſſe is continually attended, at their royall Tables, they haue
drunke poyſon in a golden pot. Many other in like manner (with moſt
earneſt appetite) haue coueted beauty and bodily ſtrength, not foreſeeing
with any iudgement, that theſe wiſhes were not without perill; when being
endued with them, they either haue beene the occaſion of their death,
or ſuch a lingering lamentable eſtate of life, as death were a thouſand
times more welcome to them.
But becauſe I would not ſpeake particularly of all our fraile and humane
affections, I dare aſſure ye, that there is not any one of theſe deſires,
to be elected among vs mortals, with entire foreſight or prouidence, warrantable
againſt their ominous iſſue. Wherefore, if we would walke directly,
wee ſhould diſpoſe our willes and affections, to be ordered and
guided onely by him, who beſt knoweth what is needfull for vs, and will
beſtow them at his good pleaſure. Nor let me lay this blamefull imputation
vpon men onely, for offending in many things through ouer lauiſh
deſires: becauſe you your ſelues (gracious Ladies) ſinne highly in one,
as namely, in coueting to be beautifull. So that it is not ſufficient for
you, to enioy thoſe beauties beſtowne on you by Nature: but you practiſe
to encreaſe them, by the rarities of Art. Wherefore, let it not offend
you, that I tell you the hard fortune of a faire Sarrazines, to whom
it happened (by ſtrange aduentures) within the compaſſe of foure yeares,
nine ſeuerall times to be maried, and onely for her beauty.
It is now a long time ſince, that there liued a Soldane in Babylon, named
Beminidab, to whom (while he liued) many things happened, anſwerable
to his owne deſires. Among diuers other children both male and
female, he had a daughter, called Alathiella, and ſhee (according to the
common voyce of euery one that ſaw her) was the fayreſt Lady then liuing
in all the world. And becauſe the King of Cholcos had wonderfully
aſſiſted him, in a valiant foughten battaile, againſt a mighty Armie of
Arabes, who on a ſuddaine had aſſailed him: hee demaunded his faire
daughter in marriage, which likewiſe was badly granted to him. A goodly
and well armed Ship was prepared for her, with full furniſhment of all
neceſſary prouiſion, and accompanied with an honourable traine, both
Lords and Ladies, as alſo moſt coſtly and ſumptuous accouſtrements;
commending her to the mercy of heauen, in this manner was ſhee ſent
away.
The time being propitious for their parting thence, the Mariners hoiſed
their ſayles, leauing the part of Alexandria, and ſayling proſperouſly
many dayes together. When they had paſt the Country of Sardignia,
and (as they imagined) were well neere to their iourneyes end: ſuddainly
aroſe boiſterous and contrary windes, which were ſo impetuous beyond
all meaſure, and ſo tormented the Ship wherein the Lady was; that
the Mariners, ſeeing no ſigne of comfort, gaue ouer all hope of eſcaping
with life. Neuertheleſſe, as men moſt expert in implacable dangers, they
laboured to their vttermoſt power, and contended with infinite bluſtring
tempeſts, for the ſpace of two dayes and nights together, hoping the third
day would proue more fauourable. But therein they ſaw themſelues deceiued,
for the violence continued ſtill, encreaſing in the night time
more and more, being no way able to comprehend, either where they
were, or what courſe they tooke, neither by mariuall iudgement, or any
apprehenſion elſe whatſoeuer, the heauens were ſo clouded, and the
nights darkneſſe ſo ext
•
eame.
Being (vnknowne to them) neere the Iſle of Maiorica, they felt the
Ship to ſplit in the bottome, by meanes whereof, perceiuing now no
hope of eſcaping (euery one caring for himſelfe, and not any other) they
threw forth a Squiffe on the troubled waues, repoſing more confidence
of ſafety that way, then abiding any longer in the broken Ship. Howbeit,
ſuch as were firſt deſcended downe, made ſtout reſiſtance againſt all other
followers, with their drawne weapons: but ſafety of life ſo farre preuailed,
that what with the tempeſts violence, and ouer-lading of the
Squiffe, it ſunke to the bottome, and all periſhed that were therein. The
The Ship being thus ſplit, and more then halfe full of water, toſſed and
tormented by the bluſtring windes, firſt one way, and then another: was
at laſt driuen into a ſtrand of the Iſle Maiorica, no other perſons remaining
therein, but onely the Lady and her women, all of them (through
the rude tempeſt, and their owne conceiued feare) lying ſtill, as if they
were more then halfe dead. And there, within a ſtones caſt of the neighbouring
ſhore, the Ship (by the rough ſurging billowes) was fixed faſt in
the ſands, and ſo continued all the reſt of the night, without any further
moleſtation of the windes.
When day appeared, and the violent ſtormes were more mildly appeaſed,
the Lady, who ſeemed well neere dead, lifted vp her head, and
began (weake as ſhe was) to call firſt one, and then another: but ſhe called
in vaine, for ſuch as ſhe named were farre enough from her. Wherefore,
hearing no anſwere, nor ſeeing any one, ſhe wondered greatly, her
feares encreaſing then more and more. Rayſing her ſelfe ſo well as ſhee
could, ſhe beheld the Ladies that were of her company, and ſome other
of her women, lying ſtill without any ſtirring: whereupon, firſt iogging
one, and then another, and calling them ſeuerally by their names; ſhee
found them bereft of vnderſtanding, and euen as if they were dead, their
hearts were ſo quailed, and their feare ſo ouer-ruling, which was no
meane diſmay to the poore Lady her ſelfe. Neuertheleſſe, neceſſity
now being her beſt counſailour, ſeeing her ſelfe thus all alone, and not
knowing in what place ſhe was, ſhe vſed ſuch meanes to them that were
liuing, that (at the laſt) they came better to knowledge of themſelues,
And being vnable to gueſſe, what was become of the men and Mariners,
ſeeing the Ship alſo driuen on the ſands, and filled with water: ſhe began
(with them) to lament moſt grieuouſly, and now it was about the houre
of mid-day, before they could deſcry any perſon on the ſhore, or any elſe
to pitty them in ſo vrgent a neceſſity.
At length, noone being paſt, a Gentlewoman, named Baiazeth, attended
by diuers of his followers on horſeback, and returning from a Country
houſe belonging to him, chanced to ride by on the ſands. Vpon ſight
of the Ship lying in that caſe, he imagined truely what had happened, and
commanded one of his men to enter aboord it, which (with ſome difficulty)
hee did, to reſolue his Lord what remayned therein. There hee
found the faire young Lady, with ſuch ſmall ſtore of company as was left
her, fearefully hidden vnder the prow of the Ship. So ſoone as they ſaw
him, they held vp their hands, wofully deſiring mercy of him: but he perceiuing
their lamentable condition, and that hee vnderſtoode not what
they ſaid to them; their affliction grew the greater, labouring by ſignes
and geſtures, to giue them knowledge of their misfortune.
The ſeruaut, gathering what he could by their outward behauiour, declared
to his Lord, what hee had ſeene in the Ship: who cauſed the women
to be brought on ſhore, and all the precious things remaining with
them, conducting them with him to a place not farre off, where, with
foode and warmth he gaue them comfort. By the rich garments which
the Lady was cloathed withall, hee reputed her to be a Gentlewomen
well deriued, as the great reuerence done to her by the reſt, gaue him
good reaſon to conceiue. And although her lookes were pale and wan,
as alſo her perſon mightily altered, by the tempeſtuous violence of the
Sea: yet notwithſtanding, ſhe appeared faire and louely in the eye of Baiazeth,
whereupon forthwith he determined, that if ſhe were not maried,
he would enioy her as his owne in mariage, or if he could not winne her
to be his wife, yet (at the leaſt) ſhee ſhould be his friend, becauſe ſhee remained
now in his power.
Baiazeth was a man of ſterne lookes, rough and harſh both in ſpeech
and behauiour: yet cauſing the Lady to be honourably vſed diuers dayes
together, ſhe became thereby well comforted and recouered. And ſeeing
her beauty to exceede all compariſon, he was afflicted beyond meaſure,
that he could not vnderſtand her, nor ſhe him, whereby hee could
not know, of whence or what ſhe was. His amorous flames encreaſing
more and more; by kinde, courteous, and affable actions, hee laboured
to compaſſe what he aymed at. But all his endeauour proued to no purpoſe,
for ſhee refuſed all familiar priuacie with him, which ſo much the
more kindled the fury of his fire. This being well obſerued by the Lady,
hauing now remayned there a moneth & more, and collecting by the cuſtomes
of the Countrey, that ſhe was among Turkes, and in ſuch a place,
where although ſhe were knowne, yet it would little aduantage her, beſide,
that long protraction of time vvould prouoke Baiazeth, by faire
meanes or force to obtaine his vvill: ſhe propounded to her ſelfe (with
magnanimity of ſpirit) to tread all misfortunes vnder her feete, commaunding
her vvomen (vvhereof ſhe had but three now remaining aliue)
that they ſhould not diſcloſe vvhat ſhe vvas; except it vvere in ſome ſuch
place, where manifeſt ſignes might yeeld hope of regaining their liberty.
Moreouer, ſhee admoniſhed them, ſtoutly to defend their honour and
chaſtity, affirming, that ſhee had abſolutely reſolued with her ſelfe, that
neuer any other ſhould enioy her, but her intended husband; vvherein
her vvomen did much commend her, promiſing to preſerue their reputation,
according as ſhe had commanded.
Day by day vvere the torments of Baiazeth, vvonderfully augmented,
yet ſtill his kinde offers ſcornefully refuſed, and he as farre off from compaſſing
his deſires, as vvhen hee firſt began to mooue the matter: wherefore,
perceiuing that all faire courſes ſerued to no effect, hee reſolued to
compaſſe his purpoſe by craft and ſubtilty, reſeruing rigorous extremity
for his finall concluſion. And hauing once obſerued, that vvine was very
pleaſing to the Lady, ſhe being neuer vſed to drinke any at all, becauſe (by
her Countries law) it was forbidden her, and no meane ſtore hauing
beene lately brought to Baiazeth in a Barke of Geneway: hee reſolued to
ſurprize her by meanes thereof, as a chiefe Miniſter of Venus, to heate
the cooleſt blood. And ſeeming now in his outward behauiour, as if he
had giuen ouer his amorous purſuite, and which ſhe ſtroue by all her beſt
endeauours to withſtand: one night, after a very maieſtick and ſolemne
manner, he prepared a delicate and ſumptuous ſupper, whereto the Lady
was inuited: and hee had giuen order, that hee who attended on her
Cup, ſhould ſerue her with many wines compounded and mingled together,
which hee accordingly performed, as being cunning enough in
ſuch occaſions.
Alothiella, inſtructing no ſuch trecherie intended againſt her, and liking
the wines pleaſing taſte extraordinarily; dranke more then ſtoode with
with her precedent modeſt reſolution, and forgetting all her paſſed aduerſities,
became very frollick and merry: ſo that ſeeing ſome women
daunce after the manner obſerued therein Maiorica, ſhe alſo fell to dauncing,
according to the Alexandrian cuſtome. Which when Baiazeth beheld,
he imagined the victory to be more then halfe wone, and his hearts
deſire very neere the obtaining: plying her ſtill with wine vpon wine, and
continuing this reuelling the moſt part of the night. At the length, the
inuited gueſts being all gone, the Lady retired then to her chamber, attended
on by none but Baiazeth himſelfe, and as familiarly, as if hee had
beene one of her women, ſhee no way contradicting his bold intruſion,
ſo faire had wine ouer-gone her ſences, and preuailed againſt all modeſt
baſhfulneſſe. Theſe wanton embracings, ſtrange to her that had neuer
taſted them before, yet pleaſing beyond meaſure, by reaſon of his trecherous
aduantage: afterward drew on many more of the like carowſing
meetings, without ſo much as a thought of her paſſed miſeries, or thoſe
more honourable and chaſte reſpects, that euer ought to attend on
Ladies.
Now, Fortune enuying theſe their ſtolne pleaſures, and that ſhe, being
the purpoſed wife of a potent King, ſhould thus become the wanton
friend of a much meaner man, whoſe onely glory was her ſhame: altered
the courſe of their too common paſtimes, by preparing a farre greater
infelicity for them. This Baiazeth had a Brother, aged about fiue and
twenty yeares, of moſt compleate perſon, in the very beauty of his time,
and freſh as the ſweeteſt ſmelling Roſe, he being named Amurath. After
he had once ſeene this Lady (whoſe faire feature pleaſed him beyond all
womens elſe) ſhe ſeemed in his ſuddaine apprehenſion, both by her outward
behauiour and ciuill apparancie, highly to deſerue his very beſt
opinion, for ſhe was not meanely entred into his fauour. Now he found
nothing to his hinderance, in obtayning the height of his hearts deſire,
but onely the ſtrict cuſtody and guard, wherein his brother Baiazeth kept
her: which raiſed a cruell conceit in his minde, whereon followed (not
long after) as cruell an effect.
It came to paſſe, that at the ſame time, in the Port of the Citie, called
Caffa, there lay then a Ship laden with Merchandize, being bound thence
for Sm
•
r
••
, of which Ship two Geneway Merchants (being brethren) were
the Patrones and owners, who had giuen direction for hoyſing the ſayles,
to depart thence when the winde ſhould ſerue. With theſe two Genewayes
Amarath had couenanted, for himſelfe to goe abord the Ship the
night enſuing, and the Lady in his company. When night was come,
hauing reſolued with himſelfe what was to be done: in a diſguiſed habite
hee went to the houſe of Baiazeth, who ſtood not any way doubtfull of
him, and with certaine of his moſt faithfull confederates (whom he had
ſworne to the intended action) they hid themſelues cloſely in the houſe.
After ſome part of the night was ouer-paſt, hee knowing the ſeuerall
lodgings both of Baiazeth and Alathiella: ſlew his brother ſoundly ſleeping,
and ſeizing on the Lady, whom hee found awake and weeping,
threatned to kill her alſo, if ſhee made any noyſe. So, being well furniſhed,
with the greater part of coſtly Iewels belonging to Baiazeth, vnheard
or vndeſcried by any body, they went preſently to the Port, and
there, without any further delay, Amurath and the Lady were receiued
into the Ship, but his companions returned backe againe; when the Mariners,
hauing their ſayles ready ſet, and the winde aptly fitting for them,
launched forth merrily into the maine.
You may well imagine, that the Lady was extraordinarily afflicted
with griefe for her firſt misfortune, and now this ſecond chancing ſo ſuddainly,
muſt needes offend her in greater manner: but Amurath did ſo
kindly comfort her, with milde, modeſt, and manly perſwaſions; that all
remembrance of Baiazeth was quickly forgotten, and ſhee became conuerted
to louely demeanour, euen when Fortune prepared a freſh miſery
for her, as not ſatisfied with thoſe whereof ſhee had taſted already. The
Lady being enriched with vnequalled beauty (as wee haue often related
before) her behauiour alſo in ſuch exquiſite and commendable kinde expreſſed:
the two brethren, owners of the Ship, became ſo deepely enamoured
of her, that forgetting all their more ſerious affaires, they ſtudied
by all poſſible meanes, to be pleaſing and gracious in her eye, yet with
ſuch a carefull cariage, that Amurath ſhould neither ſee or ſuſpect it.
When the brethren had imparted their loues extremity each to the
other, and plainely perceiued, that though they were equally in their
fiery torments, yet their deſires were vtterly contrary: they began ſeuerally
to conſider, that gaine gotten by Merchandize, admitted an equall
and honeſt diuiſion, but this purchaſe was of a different quality, pleading
the title of a ſole poſſeſſion, without any partner or intruder. Fearefull
and iealous were they both, leaſt either ſhould ayme at the others intention,
yet willing enough to ſhake hands, in ridding Amurath out of the
way, who onely was the hinderer of their hopes. Whereupon they concluded
together, that on a day, when the Ship ſayled on very ſwiftly, and
Amurath was ſitting vpon the deck, ſtudiouſly obſeruing, how the billowes
combatted each with other, and not ſuſpecting any ſuch treaſon
in them towards him: ſtealing ſoftly behinde him, ſuddainly they threw
him into the Sea, the Ship fleeting on aboue halfe a leagues diſtance,
before any perceiued his fall into the Sea.
When the Lady heard thereof, and ſaw no likely meanes of recouering
him againe, ſhe fell to her wonted teares and lamentations: but the
two Louers came quickly to comfort her, vſing kinde words and pithie
perſwaſions (albeit ſhe vnderſtood them not, or at the moſt very little) to
appeaſe the violence of her paſſions; and, to ſpeake vprightly, ſhee did
not ſo much bemoane the loſſe of Amurath, as the multiplying of her
owne misfortunes, ſtill one ſucceeding in the necke of another. After
diuers long and well deliuered Orations, as alſo very faire and courteous
behauiour, they had indifferently pacified her complaynings: they began
to diſcourſe and commune with themſelues, which of them had moſt
right and title to Alathiella, and (conſequently) ought to enioy her. Now
that Amurath was gone, each pleaded his priuiledge to be as good as the
others, both in the Ship, goods, and all aduantages elſe whatſoeuer happening:
which the elder brother abſolutely denied, alleadging firſt his
propriety of birth, a reaſon ſufficient, whereby his younger ought to giue
him place; likewiſe his right and intereſt both in ſhip and goods, to be
more then the others, as being heire to his Father, and therefore in iuſtice
to be higheſt preferred. Laſt of all, that his ſtrength onely threw Amurath
into the Sea, and therefore gaue him the full poſſeſſion of his
prize, no right at all remaining to his brother.
From temperate and calme ſpeeches, they fell to frownes and ruder
language, which heated their blood in ſuch violent manner, that forgetting
brotherly affection, and all reſpect of Parents or friends, they drew
forth their Poniards, ſtabbing each other ſo often and deſperately, that
before any in the ſhippe had the power or meanes to part them, both of
them being very dangerouſly wounded, the younger brother fell downe
dead▪ the elder being in little better caſe, by receiuing ſo many perilous
hurts, remained (neuertheleſſe) liuing. This vnhappy accident diſpleaſed
the Lady very highly, ſeeing her ſelfe thus left alone, without the help
or counſell of any body, and fearing greatly, leaſt the anger of the two
Brethrens Parents and Friends, ſhould now be laide to her charge, and
thereon follow ſeueriry of puniſhment. But the earneſt entreaties of the
wounded ſuruiuer, and their arriuall at Smirna ſoone after, deliuered him
from the danger of death, gaue ſome eaſe to her ſorrow, and there with
him ſhee went on ſhore.
Remaining there with him in a common Inne, while he continued in
the Chirurgians cure, the fame of her ſingular and much admired beauty
was ſoone ſpread abroade throughout all the City; and amongſt the reſt,
to the hearing of the Prince of Ionia, who lately before (on very vrgent
occaſions) was come to Smirna. This rare rumour, made him deſirous
to ſee her, and after he had ſeene her, ſhee ſeemed farre fairer in his eye,
then common report had noyſed her to be, and ſuddenly grew ſo enamored
of her, that ſhee was the onely Idea of his beſt deſires. Afterward, vnderſtanding
in what manner ſhee was brought thither, he deuiſed how to
make her his owne; practiſing all poſſible meanes to accompliſh it: which
when the wounded brothers Parents heard of, they not onely made tender
of their willingneſſe therein, but alſo immediately ſent her to him: a
matter moſt highly pleaſing to the Prince, and likewiſe to the Lady her
ſelfe; becauſe ſhee thought now to be freed from no meane perill, which
(otherwiſe) the wounded Merchants friends might haue inflicted on
her.
The Prince perceiuing, that beſide her matchleſſe beauty, ſhee had the
true character of royall behauiour; greeued the more, that he could not
be further informed of what Countrey ſhee was. His opinion being ſo
ſtedfaſtly grounded, that (leſſe then Noble) ſhee could not be, was a motiue
to ſet a keener edge on his affection towards her, yet not to enioy
her as in honourable and louing complement onely, but as his eſpouſed
Lady and Wife. Which appearing to her by apparant demonſtrations,
though entercourſe of ſpeech wanted to confirme it; remembrance of
her ſo many ſad diſaſters, and being now in a moſt noble and reſpected
condition, her comfort enlarged it ſelfe with a ſetled hope, her feares grew
free from any more moleſtations, and her beauties became the onely
theame and argument of priuate and publike conference in all Natolia,
that (welneere) there was no other diſcourſe, in any Aſſembly whatſoeuer.
Hereupon the Duke of Athens, being young, goodly, and valiant of
perſon, as alſo a neere Kinſman to the Prince, had a deſire to ſee her; and
vnder colour of viſiting his noble Kinſman, (as oftentimes before he had
done) attended with an honourable traine, to Smirna he came, being there
moſt royally welcommed, and bounteouſly feaſted. Within ſome few
dayes of his there being, conference paſſed betweene them, concerning
the rare beauty of the Lady; the Duke queſtioning the Prince, whether
ſhee was of ſuch wonder, as fame had acquainted the World withall?
Whereto the Prince replied; Much more (noble Kinſman) then can be
ſpoken of, as your owne eyes ſhall witneſſe, without crediting any words
of mine. The Duke ſolliciting the Duke thereto very earneſtly, they both
went together to ſee her; and ſhee hauing before heard of their comming,
adorned her ſelfe the more maieſtically, entertaining them with ceremonious
demeanor (after her Countries cuſtome) which gaue moſt
gracious and vnſpeakable acceptation.
At the Princes affable motion, ſhee ſate downe betweene them, their
delight being beyond expreſſion, to behold her, but abridged of much
more felicity, becauſe they vnderſtood not any part of her language: ſo
that they could haue no other conference, but by lookes and outward
ſignes onely; and the more they beheld her, the more they maruelled at
her rare perfections, eſpecially the Duke, who hardly credited that ſhee
was a mortall creature. Thus not perceiuing, what deepe carowſes of amorous
poyſon, his eyes dranke downe by the meere ſight of her, yet
thinking thereby onely to be ſatisfied; he loſt both himſelfe and his beſt
ſences, growing in loue (beyond all meaſure) with her. When the Prince
and he were parted from her, and hee was at his owne priuate amorous
meditations in his Chamber; he reputed the Prince far happier then any
man elſe whatſoeuer, by the enioying of ſuch a peereleſſe beauty.
After many intricate and diſtracted cogitations, which moleſted his
braines inceſſantly, regarding more his loues wanton heate, then reaſon,
kindred, and honourable hoſpitality; he reſolutely determined (whatſoeuer
enſued thereupon) to bereaue the Prince of his faire felicity, that
none but himſelfe might poſſeſſe ſuch a treaſure, which he eſteemed to be
the height of all happineſſe. His courage being conformable to his bad
intent, with all haſt it muſt be put in execution; ſo that equity, iuſtice, and
honeſty, being quite abandoned, nothing but ſubtill ſtratagems were now
his meditations. On a day, according to a fore compacted treachery,
which he had ordered with a Gentleman of the Princes Chamber, who
was named Churiacy; he prepared his horſes to be in readineſſe, and diſpatched
all his affaires elſe for a ſudden departure. The night following,
he was ſecretly conueyed by the ſaid Churiacy, and a friend of his with
him (being both armed) into the Princes Chamber, where he (while the
Lady was ſoundly ſleeping) ſtood at a gazing window towards the Sea,
naked in his ſhirt, to take the coole ayre, becauſe the ſeaſon was exceeding
hot. Hauing formerly enſtructed his friend what was to be done, verie
ſoftly they ſtept to the Prince, and running their weapons quite thorow
his body, immediately they threw him forth of the window.
Here you are to obſerue, that the Pallace was ſeated on the Sea ſhore,
and very high, and the window whereat the Prince then ſtood looking
foorth, was directly ouer diuers houſes, which the long continuance of
time, and inceſſant beating on by the ſurges of the Sea, had ſo defaced
and ruined them, as ſildome they were viſited by any perſon; whereof the
Duke hauing knowledge before, was the eaſier perſwaded, that the falling
of the Princes body in ſo vaſte a place, could neither be heard, or deſcried
by any. The Duke and his companion hauing thus executed what they
came for, proceeded yet in their cunning a little further; caſting a ſtrangling
coard about the necke of Churiacy, ſeeming as if they hugged and
embraced him: but drew it with ſo maine ſtrength, that he neuer ſpake one
word after, and ſo threw him downe after the Prince.
This done, and plainely perceiuing that they were not heard or ſeene,
either by the Lady, or any other: the Duke tooke a light in his hand, going
on to the bed, where the Lady lay moſt ſweetely ſleeping; whom the
more he beheld, the more he admired and commended: but if in her garments
ſhee appeared ſo pleaſing, what did ſhee now in a bed of ſuch ſtate
and Maieſty? Being no way daunted by his ſo late committed ſinne, but
ſwimming rather in ſurfet of ioy, his hands all bloody, and his ſoule much
more vglie; he laide him downe on the bed by her, beſtowing infinite kiſſes
and embraces on her, ſhe ſuppoſing him to be the Prince all this while,
no
•
opening her eyes to be otherwiſe reſolued. But this was not the delight
he aimed at, neither did he thinke it ſafe for him, to delay time with
any longer tarying there: wherefore hauing his agents at hand fit and
conuenient for the purpoſe, they ſurprized her in ſuch ſort, that ſhe could
not make any noiſe or outcry, and carrying her thorough the ſame falſe
poſterne, whereat themſelues had entred, laying her in a Princely litter;
away they went with all poſſible ſpeede, not tarrying in any place, vntill
they were arriued neere Athens. But thither hee would not bring her,
becauſe himſelfe was a married man, but rather to a goodly Caſtle of
his owne, not diſtant farre off from the City; where he cauſed her to be
kept very ſecretly (to her no little greefe and ſorrow) yet attended on and
ſerued in moſt honourable manner.
The Gentlemen vſually attending on the Prince, hauing waited all
the next morning till noone, in expectation of his riſing, and hearing no
ſtirring in the Chamber: did thruſt at the doore, which was but onely
cloſed together, & finding no body there, they preſently imagined, that
he was priuately gone to ſome other place, where (with the Lady, whom
he ſo deerely affected) hee might remaine ſome few dayes for his more
contentment, and ſo they reſted verily perſwaded. Within ſome fewe
dayes following, while no other doubt came in queſtion, the Princes
Foole, entering by chance among the ruined houſes, where lay the dead
bodies of the Prince and Churicy: tooke hold of the corde about Churiacyes
necke, and ſo went along dragging it after him. The bodye being
knowne to many, with no meane meruaile, how hee ſhould bee murthered
in ſo vile manner: by giftes and faire perſwaſions they wonne him,
to bring them to the place where hee found it. And there (to the no
little greefe of all the Cittie) they found the Princes body alſo, which
they cauſed to bee interred with all the moſt maieſticke pomp that might
bee.
Vpon further inquiſition, who ſhould commit ſo horrid a deed, perceyuing
likewiſe, that the Duke of Athens was not to be found, but was
cloſely gone: they iudged (according to the truth) that he had his hand
in this bloody buſineſſe, and had carried away the Lady with him. Immediately,
they elected the Princes brother to bee their Lord and Soueraigne,
inciting him to reuenge ſo horrid a wrong, and promiſing to aſſiſt
him with their vtmoſt power. The new choſen Prince being aſſured
afterward, by other more apparant and remarkeable proofes, that his
people informed him with nothing but truth: ſodainly, and according as
they had concluded, with the helpe of neighbors, kindred, and frends, collected
from diuers places; he muſtred a goodly and powerful army, marching
on towards Athens, to make war againſt the Duke.
No ſooner heard he of this warlike preparation made againſt him, but
he likewiſe leuied forces for his owne defence, and to his ſuccour came
many great States: among whom, the Emperor of Conſtantinople ſent his
Sonne Conſtantine, attended on by his Nephew Emanuell, with troopes
of faire and towardly horſe, who were moſt honourably welcommed
and entertained by the Duke, but much more by the Dutcheſſe, becauſe
ſhe was their ſiſter in law.
Military prouiſion thus proceeding on daily more and more, the Dutches
making choiſe of a fit and conuenient houre, took theſe two Princes
with her to a with-drawing Chamber; and there in flouds of teares flowing
from her eyes, wringing her hands, and ſighing inceſſantly, ſhee recounted
the whole Hiſtory, occaſion of the warre, and how diſhonourably
the Duke had dealt with her about this ſtrange woman, whom he purpoſed
to keepe in deſpight of her, as thinking that ſhe knew nothing therof,
and complaining very earneſtly vnto them, entreated that for the
Dukes honour, and her comfort, they would giue their beſt aſſiſtance in
this caſe.
The two young Lords knew all this matter, before ſhee thus reported
it to them; and therefore, without ſtaying to liſten her any longer, but
comforting her ſo wel as they could, with promiſe of their beſt employed
paines: being informed by her, in what place the Lady was ſo cloſely kept,
they tooke their leaue, and parted from her. Often they had heard the Lady
much commended, and her incomparable beauty highly extolled, yea,
euen by the Duke himſelfe; which made them the more deſirous to ſee
her: wherefore earneſtly they ſolicited him, to let them haue a ſight of her,
and he (forgetting what happened to the Prince, by ſhewing her ſo vnaduiſedly
to him) made them promiſe to grant their requeſt Cauſing a magnificent
dinner to be prepared, & in a goodly garden, at the Caſtle where
the Lady was kept: on the morrow morning, attended on by a ſmal train,
away they rode to dine with her.
Constantine being ſeated at the Table, he began (as one confounded
with admiration) to obſerue her iudiciouſly, affirming ſecretly to his ſoule
that he had neuer ſeene ſo compleat a woman before; and allowing it for
iuſtice, that the Duke, or any other whoſoeuer, if (to enioy ſo rare a beauty)
they had committed treaſon, or any miſchiefe elſe beſide, yet in reaſon
they ought to be held excuſed. Nor did he beſtow ſo many lookes vpon
her, but his prayſes infinitely ſurpaſſed them, as thinking that he could not
ſufficiently commend her, following the Duke ſtep by ſtep in affection:
for being now growne amorous of her, and remembrance of the intended
warre vtterly abandoned; no other thoughts could come neerer him, but
how to bereaue the Duke of her, yet concealing his loue, and not imparting
it to any one.
While his fancies were thus amorouſly ſet on fire, the time came, that
they muſt make head againſt the Prince, who already was marching within
the Dukes Dominions: wherfore the Duke Conſtantine, and all the reſt,
according to a counſell held among them, went to defend certaine of the
frontiers, to the end that the Prince might paſſe no further. Remaining
there diuers dayes together, Conſtantine, who could thinke on nothing
elſe, but the beautiful Lady, conſidered with himſelfe, that while the Duke
was not ſo far off from her, it was an eaſie matter to compaſſe his intent:
hereupon, the better to colour his preſent returne to Athens, he ſeemed
to be ſurprized with a ſudden extreame ſickneſſe, in regard whereof (by
the Dukes free liſence, and leauing all his power to his Couſen Emanuel)
forthwith he iourneyed backe to Athens. After ſome conference bad with
his ſiſter, concerning her diſhonorable wrongs endured at his hands only
by the Lady: he ſolemnly proteſted, that if ſhee were ſo pleaſed, he would
aide her powerfully in the matter, by taking her from the place where ſhe
was, and neuer more afterward, to be ſeene in that Countrey any more.
The Dutcheſſe being faithfully perſwaded, that he would doe this onely
for her ſake, and not in any affection he bare to the Lady, made anſwer
that it highly pleaſed her; alwayes prouided, that it might be performed
in ſuch ſort, as the Duke her Husband ſhould neuer vnderſtand, that euer
ſhee gaue any conſent thereto, which Constantine ſware vnto her by many
deep oathes, whereby ſhe referred all to his owne diſpoſition. Conſtanſtine
hereupon ſecretly prepared in readineſſe a ſubtill Barke, ſending it
(in an euening) neere to the garden where the Lady reſorted; hauing firſt
informed the people which were in it, fully in the buſineſſe that was to be
done. Afterward, accompanied with ſome other of his attendants, hee
went to the Palace to the Lady, where he was gladly entertained, not only
by ſuch as waited on her, but alſo by the Lady her ſelfe.
Leading her along by the arme towards the Garden, attended on by
two of her ſeruants, and two of his owne, ſeeming as if he was ſent from
the Duke, to conferre with her: they walked alone to a Port opening on
the Sea, which ſtanding ready open, vpon a ſigne giuen by him to one of
his complices, the Barke was brought cloſe to the ſhore, and the Lady
being ſuddenly ſeized on, was immediately conueyed into it; and he returning
backe to her people, with his ſword drawne in his hand, ſaide:
Let no man ſtir
•
e, or ſpeake a word, except he be willing to looſe his life:
for I intend not to rob the Duke of his faire friend, but to expel the ſhame
and diſhonour which he hath offered to my Siſter, no one being ſo hardy
as to returne him any anſwer. Aboard went Conſtantine with his conſorts,
and ſitting neer to the Lady, who wrung her hands, and wept bitterly; he
commanded the Marriners to launch forth, flying away on the wings of
the wind, till about the breake of day following, they arriued at Melaſſo.
There they tooke landing, and repoſed on ſhore for ſome few dayes, Conſtantine
labouring to comfort the Lady, euen as if ſhee had been his owne
Siſter, ſhee hauing good cauſe to curſe her infortunate beauty.
Going aboard the Barke againe, within few dayes they came to Setalia,
and there fearing the reprehenſion of his Father, and leaſt the Ladie
ſhould be taken from him; it pleaſed Conſtantine to make his ſtay, as in a
place of no meane ſecurity. And (as before) after much kinde behauiour
vſed towards the Lady, without any meanes in her ſelfe to redreſſe
the leaſt of all theſe great extremities: ſhee became more milde and affable,
for diſcontentment did not a iot quaile her.
While occurrences paſſed on in this manner, it fortuned, that Osbech
the King of Turky (who was in continuall war with the Emperour) came
by accident to Laiazzo: and hearing there how laſciuiouſly Conſtantine
ſpent his time in Setalia, with a Lady which he had ſtolne, being but weake
and ſlenderly guarded; in the night with certaine well prouided ſhips, his
men & he entred the Towne, & ſurprized many people in their beds, before
they knew of their enemies cōming, killing ſuch as ſtood vpon their
defence againſt them, (among whom was Constantine) and burning
the whole Towne, brought their booty and priſoners aboard their ſhips,
wherewith they returned backe to Laiazzo. Being thus come to Laiazzo,
Osbech, who was a braue and gallant young man, vpon a reuiew of the
pillage; found the faire Lady, whom hee knew to be the beloued of Conſtantine,
becauſe ſhee was found lying on his bed. Without any further
delay, he made choyſe of her to be his Wife; cauſing his nuptials to be
honourably ſollemnized, and many moneths hee liued there in great ioy
with her.
But before occaſions grew to this effect, the Emperour made a confederacy
with Baſſano, King of Cappadocia, that hee ſhould deſcend with
his forces, one way vpon Osbech, and hee would aſſault him with his
power on the other. But he could not ſo conueniently bring this to paſſe,
becauſe the Emperour would not yeeld to Baſſano, in any vnreaſonable
matter he demanded. Neuertheleſſe, when he vnderſtood what had happened
to his Son (for whom his griefe was beyond all meaſure) he granted
the King of Cappadociaes requeſt, ſolliciting him withall inſtancy, to be
the more ſpeedy in aſſailing Osbech. It was not long, before hee heard of
this coniuration made againſt him; and therefore ſpeedily muſtered vp all
his forces, ere he would be encompaſſed by two ſuch potent Kings, and
marched on to meete the King of Cappadocia, leauing his Lady and Wife,
(for her ſafety) at Laiazzo, in the cuſtodie of a true and loyall ſeruant of
his.
Within a ſhort while after, he drew neere the Campe belonging to the
King of Cappadocia, where boldly he gaue him battell; chancing therein to
be ſlaine, his Army broken and diſcomfited, by meanes whereof the King
of Cappadocia remaining Conquerour, marched on towards Laiazzo,
euery one yeelding him obeyſance all the way as he went. In the meane
ſpace, the ſeruant to Osbech, who was named Antiochus, and with whom
the faire Lady was left in guard; although hee was aged, yet ſeeing ſhee
was ſo extraordinarily beautifull, he fell in loue with her, forgetting the
ſollemne vowes he had made to his Maſter. One happineſſe hee had in
this caſe to helpe him, namely, that he vnderſtood and could ſpeake her
language, a matter of no meane comfort to her; who conſtrainedly had
liued diuers yeeres together, in the ſtate of a deafe or dumbe woman, becauſe
euery where elſe they vnderſtood her not, nor ſhee them, but by
ſhewes and ſignes.
This benefit of familiar conference, beganne to embolden his hopes,
eleuate his courage, and make him ſeeme more youthfull in his owne opinion,
then any ability of body could ſpeake vnto him, or promiſe him
in the poſſeſſion of her, who was ſo farre beyond him, and ſo vnequall to
be enioyed by him; yet to aduance his hopes a great deale higher, newes
came, that Osbech was vanquiſhed and ſlaine, and that Baſſano made euerie
where hauocke of all: whereon they concluded together, not to tarrie
there any longer, but ſtoring themſelues with the goods of Osbech, ſecretly
they departed thence to Rhodes. Being ſeated there in ſome indifferent
abiding, it came to paſſe, that Antiochus fell into a deadly ſickneſſe, to
whom came a Cyprian Merchant, one much eſteemed by him, as being
an intimate friend and kinde acquaintance, and in whom hee repoſed no
ſmall confidence. Feeling his ſickneſſe to encreaſe more and more vpon
him dayly, hee determined, not onely to leaue ſuch wealth as hee had to
this Merchant, but the faire Lady likewiſe; and calling them both to his
beds ſide, he brake his minde vnto them in this manner.
Deare Loue, and my moſt worthily reſpected friend, I perceiue plainly
and infallibly, that I am drawing neere vnto my end, which much diſcontenteth
me; becauſe my hope was, to haue liued longer in this world,
for the enioying of your kinde and moſt eſteemed company. Yet one
thing maketh my death very pleaſing and welcome to me, namely, that
lying thus in my bed of lateſt comfort in this life: I ſhall expire and finiſh
my courſe, in the armes of thoſe two perſons, whom I moſt affected in
all this world, as you my euer deareſt friend, and you faire Lady, whom
(ſince the very firſt ſight of you) I loued and honoured in my ſoule. Irkſome
and very grieuous it is to me, that (if I dye) I ſhall leaue you here a
ſtranger, without the counſaile and helpe of any body: and yet much
more offenſiue would it become, if I had not ſuch a friend as you here
preſent, who I am faithfully perſwaded, will haue the like care and reſpect
of her (euen for my ſake) as of my ſelfe, if time had allotted my longer
tarying here. And therefore (worthy friend) moſt earneſtly I deſire you,
that if I dye, all mine affaires and ſhe may remaine to your truſty care, as
being (by my ſelfe) abſolutely commended to your prouidence, and ſo
to diſpoſe both of the one and other, as may beſt agree with the comfort
of my ſoule. As for you (choiſe beauty) I humbly entreate, that after my
death you would not forget mee, to the end, I may make my vaunt in
another world, that I was affected here, by the onely faireſt Lady that
euer Nature framed. If of theſe two things you will giue me aſſurance; I
ſhall depart from you with no meane comfort.
The friendly Merchant, and likewiſe the Lady, hearing theſe words,
wept both bitterly, and after hee had giuen ouer ſpeaking: kindly they
comforted him, with promiſe and ſolemne vowes, that if hee dyed, all
ſhould be performed which he had requeſted. Within a ſhort while after,
he departed out of this life, and they gaue him very honourable buriall,
according to that Country cuſtome. Which being done, the Merchant
diſpatching all his affaires at Rhodes, was deſirous to returne home
to Cyprus, in a Carrack of the Catelans then there being: mouing the
Lady in the matter, to vnderſtand how ſhee ſtood enclined, becauſe vrgent
occaſions called him thence to Cyprus. The Lady made anſwere,
that ſhe was willing to paſſe thither with him, hoping for the loue hee
bare to deceaſed Antiochus, that he would reſpect her as his Siſter. The
Merchant was willing to giue her any contentment, but yet reſolued her,
that vnder the title of being his Siſter, it would be no warrant of ſecurity
to them both; wherefore hee rather aduiſed her, to ſtile him as her huſband,
and hee would terme her his wife, and ſo hee ſhould be ſure to defend
her from all iniuries whatſoeuer.
Being abord the Carrack, they had a Cabine and ſmall bed conueniently
allowed them, where they ſlept together, that they might the better
be reputed as man and wife; for, to paſſe otherwiſe, would haue beene
very dangerous to them both. And queſtionleſſe, their faithfull promiſe
made at Rhodes to Antiochus, ſickneſſe on the Sea, and mutuall reſpect
they had of each others credit, was a conſtant reſtraint to all wanton deſires,
and a motiue rather to incite chaſtity, then otherwiſe, and ſo (I
hope) you are perſwaded of them. But howſoeuer, the windes blewe
merily, the Carrack ſayled luſtily, and (by this time) they are arriued at
Baffa, where the Cyprian Merchant dwelt, and where ſhee continued a
long while with him, no one knowing otherwiſe, but that ſhee was his
wife indeede.
Now it fortuned, that there arriued alſo at the ſame Baffa (about ſome
eſpeciall occaſions of his) a Gentleman, whoſe name was Antigonus, well
ſtept into yeares, and better ſtored with wiſedome then wealth: becauſe
by medling in many matters, while hee followed the ſeruice of the King
of Cyprus, Fortune had beene very aduerſe to him. This ancient Gentleman,
paſſing (on a day) by the houſe where the Lady lay, and the Merchant
being gone about his buſineſſe into Armenia: hee chanced to ſee
the Lady at a window of the houſe, and becauſe ſhee was very beautifull,
he obſerued her the more aduiſedly, recollecting his ſences together, that
(doubtleſſe he had ſeene her before, but in what place hee could not remember.
The Lady her ſelfe likewiſe, who had ſo long time beene Fortunes
tennis ball, and the terme of her many miſeries drawing now neere
ending: began to conceiue (vpon the very firſt ſight of Antigonus) that
ſhe had formerly ſeene him in Alexandria, ſeruing her Father in place of
great degree. Hereupon, a ſuddaine hope perſwaded her, that by the
aduice and furtherance of this Gentleman, ſhe ſhould recouer her wonted
Royall condition: and opportunity now aptly fitting her, by the abſence
of her pretended Merchant, husband, ſhe ſent for him, requeſting
to haue a few words with him.
When he was come into the houſe, ſhe baſhfully demanded of him, if
he was not named Antigonus of Famagosta, becauſe ſhee knew one (like
him) ſo called? Hee anſwered, that he was ſo named, ſaying moreouer:
Madame, me thinkes that I ſhould know you, but I cannot remember
where I haue ſeene you, wherefore I would entreate (if it might ſtand
with your good liking) that my memory might be quickned with better
knowledge of you. The Lady perceiuing him to be the man indeede,
weeping inceſſantly, ſhe threw her armes about his necke, and ſoone after
asked Antigonus (who ſtood as one confounded with meruaile) if hee
had neuer ſeene her in Alexandria? Vpon theſe words, Antigonus knew her
immediately to be Alathiella, daughter to the great Soldane, who was ſuppoſed
(long ſince) to be drowned in the Sea: and offering to doe her
ſuch reuerence as became him, ſhe would not permit him, but deſired,
that he would be aſſiſtant to her, and willed him alſo to ſit downe a while
by her.
A goodly Chaire being brought him, in very humble manner he demanded
of her, what had become of her in ſo long a time: becauſe it
was verily beleeued throughout all Egypt, that ſhee was drowned in the
Sea. I would it had bin ſo, anſwered the Lady, rather then to leade ſuch
a life as I haue done; and I thinke my Father himſelfe would wiſh it ſo, if
euer he ſhould come to the knowledge thereof. With theſe words the
teares rained downe her faire cheekes: wherefore Antigonus thus ſpake
vnto her. Madame, diſcomfort not your ſelfe before you haue occaſion,
but (if you be ſo pleaſed) relate your paſſed accidents to mee, and what
the courſe of your life hath bene: perhaps, I ſhall giue you ſuch friendly
aduice as may ſtand you in ſted, and no way be iniurious to you.
Fetching a ſigh, euen as if her heart would haue ſplit in ſunder, thus
ſhe replyed. Ah Antigonus, me thinkes when I looke on thee, I ſeeme
to behold my royall Father, and therefore mooued with the like religious
zeale and charitable loue, as (in duty) I owe vnto him: I will make
knowne to thee, what I rather ought to conceale, and hide from any perſon
liuing. I know thee to bee honourable, diſcreete, and truely wiſe,
though I am a fraile, ſimple, and weake woman, therefore I dare diſcouer
to thee, rather then any other that I know, by what ſtraunge and vnexpected
misfortunes, I haue liued ſo long obſcurely in the world. And
if in thy great and graue iudgement (after the hearing of my many miſeries)
thou canſt any way reſtore me to my former eſtate, I pray thee do it:
but if thou perceiue it impoſſible to bee done, as earneſtly likewiſe I entreate
thee, neuer to reueale to any liuing perſon, that either thou haſt
ſeene me, or heard any ſpeech of me. After theſe words, the teares ſtill
ſtreaming from her faire eyes, ſhee recounted the whole paſſage of her
rare miſhaps, euen from her ſhipwracke in the Sea of Maiorica, vntil that
very inſtant houre; ſpeaking them in ſuch harſh manner as they hapned,
and not ſparing any iot of them.
Antigonus being mooued to much compaſſion, declared how hee pitied
her by his teares, and hauing bene ſilent an indifferent while, as conſidering
in this caſe) what was beſt to be done, thus he began. Madam,
ſeeing you haue paſt through ſuch a multitude of misfortunes, yet vndiſcouered,
what and who you are: I will render you as blameleſſe to your
Father, and eſtate you as fairely in his loue, as at the hour when you parted
from him, and afterward make you wife to the King of Cholcos. She
demanding of him, by what meanes poſſibly this could be accompliſhed:
breefely he made it knowne to her, how, and in what manner hee would
performe it.
To cut off futther tedious circumſtances, forthwith he returned to Famagosta,
and going before the King of the country, thus he ſpake to him.
Sir, you may (if ſo you will be pleaſed) in an inſtant, do me an exceeding
honor, who haue bene impoueriſhed by your ſeruice, and alſo a deed of
great renowne to your ſelfe, without any much matter of expence and
coſt. The King demanding how? Antigonus thus anſwered. The fayre
daughter of the Soldane, ſo generally reported to be drowned, is arriued
at Baffa, and to preſerue her honour from blemiſhing, hath ſuffered many
croſſes and calamities: being at this inſtant in very poore eſtate, yet
deſirous to re-viſite her father. If you pleaſe to ſend her home vnder my
conduct, it will be great honour to you, and no meane benefite to mee;
which kindneſſe will for euer be thankfully remembred by the Soldan.
The King in royall magnificence, replied ſodainly, that he was highly
pleaſed with theſe good tydings; & hauing ſent honourably for her from
Baffa, with great pompe ſhe was conducted to Famagosta, and there moſt
graciouſly welcommed both by the King and Queene, with ſolemne triumphes,
bankets, and reuelling, performed in moſt Maieſticke manner.
Being queſtioned by the King and Queene, concerning ſo large a time
of ſtrange misfortunes: according as Antigonus had formerly enſtructed
her, ſo did ſhe ſhape the forme of her anſwers, and ſatisfied (with honor)
all their demands. So, within few dayes after, vpon her earneſt & inſtant
requeſt; with an honourable traine of Lords and Ladies, ſhee was ſent
thence, and conducted all the way by Antigonus, vntill ſhe came vnto the
Soldans Court.
After ſome few dayes of her repoſing there, the Soldan was deſirous
to vnderſtand, how ſhe could poſſibly liue ſo long, in any Kingdome or
Prouince whatſoeuer, and yet no knowledge to bee taken of her? The
Lady, who perfectly retained by heart, and had all her leſſons at her fingers
ends, by the warie inſtructions which Antigonus had giuen her, anſwered
her father in this manner. Sir, about the twentith day after my
departure from you, a verie terrible and dreadfull tempeſt ouer-tooke vs,
ſo that in dead time of the night, our ſhip being ſplit in ſunder vpon the
ſands, neere to a place called Varna; what became of all the men that
were aboord, I neither know, or euer heard of. Onely I remember, then
when death appeared, and I being recouered from death to life, certaine
pezants of the countrey, comming to get what they could finde in the
ſhip ſo wrackt, I was firſt (with two of my women) brought and ſet ſafely
on the ſhore.
No ſooner were we there, but certaine rude ſhagge-haird villaines ſet
vpon vs, carrying away from me both my women, then haling me along
by the haire of my head, neither teares or interceſſions could draw any
pitty from them. As thus they dragd me into a ſpacious Woodd, foure
horſemen on a ſodaine came riding by, who ſeeing how diſhonourably
the villaines vſed me, reſcued me from them, and forced them to flight.
But the foure horſemen, ſeeming (in my iudgement) to bee perſons of
power and authority, letting them go, came to mee, vrging ſundry queſtions
to me, which neither I vnderſtood, or they mine anſwers. After
many deliberations held among themſelues, ſetting me vpon one of their
horſes, they brought me to a Monaſtery of religious women, according
to the cuſtome of their law: and there, whatſoeuer they did or ſayde, I
know not, but I was moſt benignely welcommed thither, and honoured
of them extraordinarily, where (with them in deuotion) I dedicated my
ſelfe to the Goddeſſe of chaſtity, who is highly reuerenced and regarded
among the women of that Countrey, and to her religious ſeruice, they
are wholly addicted.
After I had continued ſome time among them, and learned a little of
their language; they asked me, of whence, and what I was. Reaſon gaue
me ſo much vnderſtanding, to be fearfull of telling them the trueth, for
feare of expulſion from among them, as an enemy to their Law and Religion:
wherefore I anſwered (according as neceſſity vrged) that I was
daughter to a Gentleman of Cyprus, who ſent me to bee married in Candie;
but our fortunes (meaning ſuch as had the charge of mee) fell out
quite contrary to our expectation, by loſſes, Shipwracke, and other miſchances;
adding many matters more beſide, onely in regard of feare, &
yeelding obediently to obſerue their cuſtomes.
At length, ſhe that was in cheefeſt preheminence among theſe Women
(whom they termed by the name of their Lady Abbeſſe) demaunded
of me, whither I was willing to abide in that condition of life, or to
returne home againe into Cyprus. I anſwerd, that I deſired nothing more.
But ſhe, being very carefull of mine honour, would neuer repoſe confidence
in any that came for Cyprus; till two honeſt Gentlemen of France,
who hapned thither about two moneths ſince, accompanied with their
wiues, one of them being a neere kinſwoman to the Lady Abbeſſe. And
ſhe well knowing, that they trauelled in pilgrimage to Ieruſalem, to viſit
the holy Sepulcher, where (as they beleeue) that he whom they held for
their God was buried, after the Iewes had put him to death: recommended
me to their louing truſt, with eſpecial charge, for deliuering me
to my Father in Cyprus. What honourable loue and reſpect I found in
the company of thoſe Gentlemen and their wiues, during our voyage
backe to Cyprus: the hiſtory would be ouer-tedious in reporting, neither
is it much materiall to our purpoſe, becauſe your demand is to another
end.
Sayling on proſperouſly in our Ship, it was not long, before wee arriued
at Baffa, where being landed, and not knowing any perſon, neither
what I ſhould ſay to the Gentlemen, who onely were carefull for deliuering
me to my Father, according as they were charged by the reuerend
Abbeſſe: it was the will of heauen doubtleſſe (in pitty and compaſſion of
my paſſed diſaſters) that I was no ſooner come on ſhore at Baffa: but I
ſhould there haply meete with Antigonus, whome I called vnto in our
countrey Language, becauſe I would not be vnderſtood by the Gentlemen
nor their wiues, requeſting him to acknowledge me as his Daughter.
Quickly he apprehended mine intention, accompliſhing what I requeſted,
and (according to his poore power) moſt bounteouſly feaſted
the Gentlemen and their wiues, conducting me to the K. of Cyprus, who
receiued me royally, and ſent me home to you with ſo much honour, as I
am no way able to relate. What elſe remaineth to be ſaid, Antigonus who
hath oft heard the whole ſtory of my fortunes, at better leiſure wil report.
Antigonus then turning to the Soldan, ſaid: My Lord, as ſhee hath often
told me, and by relation both of the Gentlemen and their wiues, ſhe
hath deliuered nothing but trueth. Onely ſhee hath forgotten ſomewhat
worth the ſpeaking, as thinking it not fit for her to vtter, becauſe
(indeede) it is not ſo conuenient for her. Namely, how much the Gentlemen
and their wiues (with whom ſhe came) commended the rare honeſty
and integrity of life, as alſo the vnſpotted vertue, wherein ſhe liued,
among thoſe chaſte Religious women, as they conſtantly (both with
teares and ſolemne proteſtations) auouched to me, when kindly they reſigned
their charge to mee. Of all which matters, and many more beſide,
if I ſhould make diſcourſe to your Excellencie; this whole day, the
night enſuing, and the next dayes full extendure, are not ſufficient to acquaint
you withall. Let it ſuffice then, that I haue ſaid ſo much, as (both
by the reports, and mine owne vnderſtanding) may giue you faithfull
aſſurance, to make your Royall vaunt; of hauing the fayreſt, moſt
vertuous, and honeſt Lady to your Daughter, of any King or Prince
whatſoeuer.
The Soldane was ioyfull beyond all meaſure, welcomming both him
and the reſt in moſt ſtately manner, oftentimes entreating the Gods very
heartily, that he might liue to requite them with equall recompence, who
had ſo graciouſly honoured his daughter: but (aboue all the reſt) the King
of Cyprus, who ſent her home ſo maieſtically. And hauing beſtowne
great gifts on Antigonus, within a few dayes after, hee gaue him leaue to
returne to Cyprus: with thankfull fauours to the King as well by Letters,
as alſo by Ambaſſadours expreſly ſent, both from himſelfe and his
daughter.
When as this buſineſſe was fully finiſhed, the Soldane, deſiring to accompliſh
what formerly was intended and begun, namely, that ſhee
might be wife to the King of Cholcos: he gaue him intelligence of all that
had happened, writing moreouer to him, that (if he were ſo pleaſed) hee
would yet ſend her in Royall manner to him. The King of Cholcos was
exceeding ioyfull of theſe glad tydings, and diſpatching a worthy trayne
to fetch her, ſhe was conuayed thither very pompouſly, and ſhe who had
beene embraced by ſo many, was receiued by him as an honeſt virgine,
liuing long time after with him in much ioy and felicity. And therefore,
it hath beene ſaid as a common Prouerbe: The mouth well kiſt comes
not ſhort of good fortune, but is ſtill renewed like the Moone.
The Count D'Angiers being falſly accuſed, was baniſhed out of France, & left his two children in England in diuers places. Returning afterward (vnknowne) thorow Scotland, hee found them aduanced vnto great dignity. Then, repayring in the habite of a Seruitour, into the King of France his Armie, and his innocencie made publiquely knowne; hee was reſeated in his former honourable degree.
The eight Nouell.
Whereby all men may plainely vnderſtand, that loyal
•
y faithfully kept to the Prince (what perils ſo euer doe enſue) doth ye neuertheleſſe renowne a man, and bring him to farre greater honour.
THe Ladies ſighed very often, hearing the variety of wofull miſeries
happening to Alathiella: but who knoweth, what occaſion moued
them to thoſe ſighes? Perhaps there were ſome among them, who rather
ſighed they could not be ſo often married as ſhe was, rather then for
any other compaſſion they had of her diſaſters. But leauing that to their
owne conſtruction, they ſmiled merrily at the laſt ſpeeches of Pamphilus,
and the Queene perceiuing the Nouell to be ended: ſhee fixed her eye
vpon Madame Eliza, as ſignifying thereby, that ſhe was next to ſucceede
in order, which ſhee ioyfully embracing, ſpake as followeth. The field is
very large and ſpacious, wherein all this day we haue walked, and there is
not any one here, ſo wearied with running the former races, but nimbly
would aduenture on as many more, ſo copious are the alterations of Fortune,
in ſad repetition of her wonderfull changes: and among the infinity
of her various courſes, I muſt make addition of another, which I truſt will
no way diſcontent you.
When the Romaine Empire was tranſlated from the French to the
Germains, mighty diſſentions grew between both the nations, inſomuch
that it drew a diſmall and a lingring warre. In which reſpect, as well for
the ſafety of his owne Kingdome, as to annoy and diſturbe his enemies;
the King of France and one of his ſonnes, hauing congregated the forces
of their owne dominions, as alſo of their friends and confederates, they
reſolued manfully to encounter their enemies. But before they would
aduenture on any raſh proceeding; they held it as the chiefeſt part of
pollicie and Royall prouidence, not to leaue the State without a chiefe
or Gouernour. And hauing had good experience of Gualtier, Counte
D'Angiers, to be a wiſe, worthy, and moſt truſty Lord, ſingularly expert
in militarie diſcipline, and faithfull in all affaires of the Kingdome (yet
fitter for eaſe and pleaſure, then laborious toyle and trauaile:) hee was
elected Lieutenant Gouernour in their ſted, ouer the whole Kingdome
of France, and then they went on in their enterprize.
Now began the Counte to execute the office committed to his truſt,
by orderly proceeding, and with great diſcretion, yet not entring into
any buſineſſe, without conſent of the Queene and her faire daughter in
law: who although they were left vnder his care and cuſtodie, yet (notwithſtanding)
he honoured them as his ſuperiours, and as the dignity of
their quality required. Heere you are to obſerue, concerning Counte
Gualtier himſelfe, that he was a moſt compleat perſon, aged little aboue
forty yeares; as affable and ſingularly conditioned, as any Noble man
poſſibly could be, nor did thoſe times afford a Gentleman, that equalled
him in all reſpects. It fortuned, that the King and his ſonne being buſie
in the afore-named warre, the wife and Lady of Counte Gualtier died in
the meane while, leauing him onely a ſonne and a daughter, very young
and of tender yeares, which made his owne home the leſſe welcome to
him, hauing loſt his deare Loue and ſecond ſelfe.
Hereupon, hee reſorted to the Court of the ſaid Ladies the more frequently,
often conferring with them, about the waighty affaires of the
Kingdome: in which time of ſo ſerious interparlance, the Kings Sonnes
wife, threw many affectionate regards vpon him, conuaying ſuch conſpiring
paſſions to her heart (in regard of his perſon and vertues) that her
loue exceeded all capacity of gouernement. Her deſires out ſtepping all
compaſſe of modeſty, or the dignity of her Princely condition; throwes
off all regard of ciuill and ſober thoughts, and guides her into a Labyrinth
of wanton imaginations. For, ſhe regards not now the eminencie
of his high authority, his grauity of yeares, and thoſe parts that are the
true conducts to honour: but lookes vpon her owne looſe and laſciuious
appetite, her young, gallant, and ouer-ready yeelding nature, comparing
them with his want of a wife, and likely hope (thereby) of her ſooner
preuailing; ſuppoſing, that nothing could be her hinderance, but onely
baſhfull ſhame-facedneſſe, which ſhe rather choſe vtterly to forſake and
ſet aſide, then to faile of her hote enflamed affection, and therefore, ſhee
would needes be the diſcouerer of her owne diſgrace.
Vpon a day, being alone by her ſelfe, and the time ſeeming ſuteable
to her intention: ſhee ſent for the Counte, vnder colour of ſome other
important conference with him. The Counte D'Angiers, whoſe thoughts
were quite contrary to hers: immediately went to her, where they both
ſitting downe together on a beds ſide in her Chamber, according as formerly
ſhee had plotted her purpoſe; twice hee demaunded of her, vpon
what occaſion ſhe had thus ſent for him. She ſitting a long while ſilent,
as if ſhe had no anſwere to make him: preſſed by the violence of her amorous
paſſions, a vermillion tincture leaping vp into her face, yet ſhame
enforcing teares from her eyes, with words broken and halfe confuſed, at
laſt ſhe began to deliuer her minde in this manner.
Honourable Lord, and my dearely reſpected friend, being ſo wiſe a
man as you are, it is no difficult matter for you to know, what a fraile
condition is impoſed both on men and women; yet (for diuers occaſions)
much more vpon the one, then the other. Wherefore deſertfully,
in the cenſure of a iuſt and vpright Iudge, a fault of diuers conditions (in
reſpect of the perſon) ought not to be cenſured with one and the ſame
puniſhment. Beſide, who will not ſay, that a man or woman of poore
and meane eſtate, hauing no other helpe for maintainance, but laborious
trauaile of their bodies ſhould worthily receiue more ſharpe reprehenſion,
in yeelding to amorous deſires, or ſuch paſſions as are incited by
loue; then a wealthy Lady whoſe liuing relieth not on her paines or cares,
neither wanteth any thing that ſhe can wiſh to haue: I dare preſume, that
you your ſelfe will allow this to be equall and iuſt. In which reſpect, I am
of the minde, that the fore-named allegations, ought to ſerue as a ſufficient
excuſe, yea, and to the aduantage of her who is ſo poſſeſſed, if the
paſſions of loue ſhould ouer-reach her: alwayes prouided, that ſhee can
pleade (in her owne defence) the choiſe of a wiſe and vertuous friend, anſwerable
to her owne condition and quality, and no way to be taxed with
a ſeruile or vile election.
Theſe two eſpeciall obſeruations, allowable in my iudgement, and liuing
now in me, ſeazing on my youthfull blood and yeares: haue found
no mean inducement to loue, in regard of my husbands far diſtance from
me, medling in the rude vnciuill actions of warre, when he ſhould rather
be at home in more ſweet imployment. You ſee Sir, that theſe Orators
aduance themſelues here in your preſence, to acquaint you with the extremity
of my ouer-commanding agony: and if the ſame power hath dominion
in you, which your diſcretion (queſtionleſſe) cannot be voide of;
then let me entreate ſuch aduiſe from you, as may rather helpe, then hinder
my hopes. Beleeue it then for trueth Sir, that the long abſence of
my husband from me, the ſolitary condition wherein I am left, ill agreeing
with the hot blood running in my veines, & the temper of my earneſt
deſires: haue ſo preuailed againſt my ſtrongeſt reſiſtances, that not onely
ſo weake a woman as I am, but any man of much more potent might
(liuing in eaſe and idleneſſe as I doe) cannot withſtand ſuch continuall aſſaults,
hauing no other helpe then fleſh and blood.
Nor am I ſo ignorant, but publique knowledge of ſuch an error in
me, would be reputed a ſhrewd taxation of honeſty: whereas (on the
other ſide) ſecret carriage, and heedfull managing ſuch amorous affaires,
may paſſe for currant without any reproach. And let me tell you Noble
Counte, that I repute Loue highly fauourable to mee, by guiding my
iudgement with ſuch moderation, to make election of a wiſe, worthy,
and honourable friend, fit to enioy the grace of a farre greater Lady then
I am, and the firſt letter of his name, is the Count D'Angiers. For if error
haue not miſled mine eye, as in Loue no Lady can be eaſily deceiued:
for perſon, perfections, and all parts moſt to be commended in a
man, the whole Realme of France containeth not your equall. Obſerue
beſide, how forward Fortune ſheweth her ſelfe to vs both in this caſe,
you to be deſtitute of a wife, as I am of an husband; for I count him as
dead to me, when he denies me the duties belonging to a wife. Wherefore,
in regard of the vnfaigned affection I beare you, and compaſſion,
which you ought to haue of Royall Princeſſe, euen almoſt ſicke to death
for your ſake: I earneſtly entreate you, not to denie me your louing ſociety,
but pittying my youth and fiery afflictions (neuer to be quenched
but by your kindneſſe) I may enioy my hearts deſire.
As ſhee vttered theſe words, the teares ſtreamed aboundantly downe
her faire cheekes, preuenting her of any further ſpeech: ſo that deiecting
her head into her boſome, ouercome with the predominance of
her paſſions; ſhee fell vpon the Countes knee, whereas elſe ſhee had
falne vpon the ground. When hee, like a loyall and moſt honourable
man, ſharply reprehended her fonde and idle loue, and when ſhee
would haue embraced him about the necke; hee repulſed her roughly
from him, proteſting vpon his honourable reputation, that rather
then hee would ſo wrong his Lord and Maiſter, he would endure a thouſand
deathes.
The Lady ſeeing her deſire diſappointed, and her fond expectation
vtterly fruſtrated: grewe inſtantly forgetfull of her intemperate loue,
and falling into extremity of rage, conuerted her former gentle ſpeeches,
into this harſh and ruder language. Villaine (quoth ſhee) ſhall
the longing comforts of my life, be abridged by thy baſe and ſcornefull
deniall? Shall my deſtruction bee wrought by thy curriſh vnkindneſſe,
and all my hoped ioyes be defeated in a moment? Know ſlaue,
that I did not ſo earneſtly deſire thy ſweet embracements before, but
now as deadly I hate and deſpiſe them, which either thy death or baniſhment
ſhall dearely pay for. No ſooner had ſhee thus ſpoken, but tearing
her haire, and renting her garments in pieces, ſhee ranne about
like a diſtracted woman, crying out aloude: Helpe, helpe, the Count
D'Angiers will forcibly diſhonour mee, the luſtfull Count will violence
mine honour.
D'Angiers ſeeing this, and fearing more the malice of the ouer-credulous
Court, then either his owne conſcience, or any diſhonourable
act by him committed, beleeuing likewiſe, that her ſlanderous accuſation
would bee credited, aboue his true and ſpotleſſe innocency: cloſely
he conueyed himſelfe out of the Court, making what haſt hee could,
home to his owne houſe, which being too weake for warranting his ſafety
vpon ſuch purſuite as would be vſed againſt him, without any further
aduice or counſell, he ſeated his two children on horſebacke, himſelfe alſo
being but meanly mounted, thus away thence hee went to Calice.
Vpon the clamour and noiſe of the Lady, the Courtiers quickly flocked
thither; and, as lies ſoone winne beleefe in haſty opinions, vpon any
ſilly or ſhallow ſurmiſe: ſo did her accuſation paſſe for currant, and the
Counts aduancement being enuied by many, made his honeſt carriage
(in this caſe) the more ſuſpected. In haſt and madding fury, they ran to
the Counts houſes, to arreſt his perſon, and carry him to priſon: but
when they could not finde him, they raced his goodly buildings downe
to the ground, and vſed all ſhamefull violence to them. Now, as il newes
ſildome wants a ſpeedy Meſſenger; ſo, in leſſe ſpace then you will imagine,
the King and Dolphin heard thereof in the Camp, and were therewith
ſo highly offended, that the Count had a ſodaine and ſeuere condemnation,
all his progeny being ſentenced with perpetuall exile, and
promiſes of great and bountifull rewards, to ſuch as could bring his body
aliue or dead.
Thus the innocent Count, by his ouer-haſty and ſodaine flight, made
himſelfe guilty of this foule imputation: and arriuing at Callice with his
children, their poore and homely habites, hid them from being knowne,
and thence they croſſed ouer into England, ſtaying no where vntill hee
came to London. Before he would enter into the City, he gaue diuers
good aduertiſements to his children, but eſpecially two precepts aboue
all the reſt. Firſt, with patient ſoules to ſupport the poore condition,
whereto Fortune (without any offence in him or them) had thus deiected
them. Next, that they ſhould haue moſt heedfull care, at no time to
diſcloſe from whence they came, or whoſe children they were, becauſe it
extended to the perill of their liues. His Sonne, being named Lewes, and
now about nine yeares old, his daughter called Violenta, and aged ſeauen
yeares, did both obſerue their fathers direction, as afterward it did
ſufficiently appeare. And becauſe they might liue in the ſafer ſecuritie,
hee thought it for the beſt to change their names, calling his ſonne
Perotto, and his daughter Gianetta, for thus they might beſt eſcape vnknowne.
Being entred into the Citty, and in the poore eſtate of beggers, they
craued euery bodies mercy and almes. It came to paſſe, that ſtanding
one morning at the Cathedral Church-doore, a great Lady of England,
being then wife to the Lord high Marſhall, cōming forth of the Church,
eſpied the Count and his children there begging. Of him ſhe demanded
what Countrey-man he was? and whether thoſe children were his owne,
or no? The Count replyed, that he was borne in Picardy, and for an vnhappy
fact committed by his eldeſt ſonne (a ſtripling of more hopefull
expectation, then proued) hee was enforced, with thoſe his two other
children to forſake his country. The Lady being by nature very pittiful,
looking aduiſedly on the yong Girle, beganne to grow in good liking of
her; becauſe (indeede) ſhe was amiable, gentle, and beautifull, whereupon
ſhee ſaide. Honeſt man, thy daughter hath a pleaſing countenance,
and (perhaps) her inward diſpoſition may prooue anſwerable to hir outward
goods parts: if therefore thou canſt bee content to leaue her with
me, I will giue her entertainment, and vpon her dutifull carriage and behauiour,
if ſhe liue to ſuch yeares as may require it, I wil haue her honeſtly
beſtowne in marriage. This motion was verie pleaſing to the Count,
who readily declared his willing conſent thereto, and with the teares
trickling downe his cheekes, in thankfull manner he deliuered his prettie
daughter to the Lady.
Shee being thus happily beſtowne, hee minded to tarry no longer in
London; but, in his wonted begging manner, trauailing thorough the
Country with his ſonne Perotto, at length hee came into Wales: but not
without much weary paine and trauell, being neuer vſed before, to iourney
ſo far on foote. There dwelt another Lord, in office of Marſhalſhip
to the King of England, whoſe power extended ouer thoſe partes; a man
of very great authority, keeping a moſt noble and bountifull houſe, which
they termed the Preſident of Wales his Court; whereto the Count and his
ſon oftentimes reſorted, as finding there good releefe and comfort. On
a day, one of the Preſidents ſons, accompanied with diuers other Gentlemens
children, were performing certaine youthfull ſports & paſtimes,
as running, leaping, and ſuch like, wherein Perotto preſumed to make
one among them, excelling all the reſt in ſuch commendable manner, as
none of them ca
•
e any thing nere him. Diuers times the Preſident had
taken notice thereof, and was ſo vvell pleaſed with the Lads behauiour,
that he enquired, of whence he was? Anſwer vvas made, that hee vvas a
poore mans ſon, that euery day came for an almes to his gate.
The Preſident being deſirous to make the boy his, the Count (whoſe
dayly prayers were to the ſame purpoſe) frankly gaue his ſon to the Nobleman:
albeit naturall and fatherly affection, vrged ſome vnwillingneſſe
to part ſo with him; yet neceſſity and diſcretion, found it to bee for the
benefit of them both. Being thus eaſed of care for his ſon and daughter,
and they (though in different places) yet vnder good and woorthie gouernment:
the Count would continue no longer in England: but, as beſt
he could procure the meanes, paſſed ouer into Ireland, and being arriued
at a place called Stanford, became ſeruant to an Earle of that Country, a
Gentleman profeſſing Armes, on whom he attended as a ſeruing man, &
liued a long while in that eſtate very painfully.
His daughter Violenta, clouded vnder the borrowed name of Gianetta,
dwelling with the Lady at London, grew ſo in yeares, beauty, comlineſſe
of perſon, and was ſo gracefull in the fauour of her Lord and Lady, yea,
of euery one in the houſe beſide, that it was wonderfull to behold. Such
as but obſerued her vſuall carriage, and what modeſty ſhined clearely in
her eyes, reputed her vvell vvorthy of honourable preferment; in which
regard, the Lady that had receiued her of her Father, not knowing of
whence, or what ſhee was; but as himſelfe had made report, intended to
match her in honourable mariage, according as her vertues worthily deſerued.
But God, the iuſt rewarder of all good endeauours, knowing her
to be noble by birth, and (cauſeleſſe) to ſuffer for the ſinnes of another;
diſpoſed otherwiſe of her, and that ſo worthy a Virgin might be no mate
for a man of ill conditions, no doubt ordained what was to be done, according
to his owne good pleaſure.
The noble Lady, with whom poore Gianetta dwelt, had but one onely
Sonne by her Husband, and he moſt deerely affected of them both, as
well in regard hee was to be their heire, as alſo for his vertues and commendable
qualities, wherein he excelled many young Gentlemen. Endued
he was with heroycal valour, compleate in all perfections of perſon,
and his mind euery way anſwerable to his outward behauiour, exceeding
Gianetta about ſixe yeeres in age. Hee perceiuing her to be a faire and
comely Maiden, grew to affect her ſo entirely, that all things elſe he held
contemptible, and nothing pleaſing in his eye but ſhee. Now, in regard
her parentage was reputed poore, hee kept his loue conceal
•
d from his
Parents, not daring to deſire her in marriage: for both hee was to looſe
their fauour, by diſcloſing the vehemency of his afflictions, which proued
a greater torment to him, then if it had beene openly knowne.
It came to paſſe, that loue ouer-awed him in ſuch ſort, as he fell into a
violent ſickneſſe, and ſtore of Phyſicions were ſent for, to ſaue him from
death, if poſſibly it might be. Their iudgements obſeruing the courſe of
his ſickneſſe, yet not reaching to the cauſe of the diſeaſe, made a doubtfull
queſtion of his recouery; which was ſo diſpleaſing to his parents, that
their griefe and ſorrow grew beyond meaſure. Many earneſt entreaties
they moued to him, to know the occaſion of his ſickneſſe, whereto he returned
no other anſwer, but heart-breaking ſighes, and inceſſant teares,
which drew him more and more into weakeneſſe of body.
It chanced on a day, a Phyſicion was brought vnto him, being young
in yeeres, but well experienced in his practiſe, and as hee made triall of
his pulſe, Gianetta (who by his Mothers command, attended on him very
diligently) vpon ſome eſpecial occaſion entred into the Chamber, which
when the young Gentleman perceiued, and that ſhee neither ſpake word,
nor ſo much as looked towards him, his heart grew great in amorous deſire,
and his pulſe did beate beyond the compaſſe of ordinary cuſtome;
whereof the Phyſicion made good obſeruation, to note how long that fit
would continue. No ſooner was Gianetta gone forth of the Chamber,
but the pulſe immediately gaue ouer beating, which perſwaded the Phyſicion,
that ſome part of the diſeaſe had now diſcouered it ſelfe apparantly.
Within a while after, pretending to haue ſome ſpeech with Gianetta,
and holding the Gentleman ſtill by the arme, the Phyſicion cauſed her to
be ſent for, and immediately ſhee came. Vpon her very entrance into the
Chamber, the pulſe began to beate againe extreamely, and when ſhee departed,
it preſently ceaſed. Now was he thorowly perſwaded, that hee
had found the true effect of his ſickneſſe; when taking the Father and mother
aſide, thus he ſpake to them. If you be deſirous of your Sons health,
it conſiſteth not either in Phyſicion or phyſicke, but in the mercy of your
faire Maide Gianetta; for manifeſt ſignes haue made it knowne to me, and
he loueth the Damoſell very dearely: yet (for ought I can perceiue, the
Maide doth not know it) now if you haue reſpect of his life, you know (in
this caſe) what is to be done. The Nobleman and his Wife hearing this,
became ſomewhat ſatisfied, becauſe there remained a remedy to preſerue
his life: but yet it was no meane griefe to them, if it ſhould ſo ſucceede,
as they feared, namely, the marriage betweene their Sonne and Gianetta.
The Phyſicion being gone, and they repairing to their ſicke Sonne,
the Mother began with him in this manner. Sonne, I was alwayes perſwaded,
that thou wouldeſt not conceale any ſecret from me, or the leaſt
part of thy deſires; eſpecially, when without enioying them, thou muſt remaine
in the danger of death. Full well art thou aſſured, or in reaſon
oughteſt to be, that there is not any thing for thy contentment, be it of
what quality ſoeuer, but it ſhould haue beene prouided for thee, and in
as ample manner as for mine owne ſelfe. But though thou haſt wandred
ſo farre from duty, and hazarded both thy life and ours, it commeth ſo to
paſſe, that Heauen hath been more mercifull to thee, then thou wouldeſt
be to thy ſelfe or vs. And to preuent thy dying of this diſeaſe, a dreame
this night hath acquainted me with the principall occaſion of thy ſickeneſſe,
to wit, extraordinary affection to a young Maiden, in ſome ſuch
place as thou haſt ſeene her. I tell thee Sonne, it is a matter of no diſgrace
to loue, and why ſhouldſt thou ſhame to manifeſt as much, it being
ſo apt and conuenient for thy youth? For if I were perſwaded, that thou
couldſt not loue, I ſhould make the leſſe eſteeme of thee. Therefore deare
Sonne, be not diſmayed, but freely diſcouer thine affections. Expel thoſe
diſaſtrous drouping thoughts, that haue indangered thy life by this long
lingering ſickneſſe. And let thy ſoule be faithfully aſſured, that thou canſt
not require any thing to be done, remaining within the compaſſe of my
power, but I will performe it; for I loue thee as dearely as mine owne life.
Set therefore aſide this nice conceit of ſhame and feare, reuealing the
truth boldly to me, if I may ſtead thee in thy loue; reſoluing thy ſelfe vnfaignedly,
that if my care ſtretch not to compaſſe thy content, account me
for the moſt cruell Mother liuing, and vtterly vnworthy of ſuch a Sonne.
The young Gentleman hauing heard theſe proteſtations made by his
Mother, was not a little aſhamed of his owne follie; but recollecting his
better thoughts together, and knowing in his ſoule, that no one could
better further his hopes, then ſhee; forgetting all his former feare, he returned
her this anſwere; Madam, and my dearely affected Mother,
nothing hath more occaſioned my loues ſo ſtrict concealement,
but an eſpeciall errour, which I finde by daily proofe in many, who
being growne to yeeres of graue diſcretion, doe neuer remember,
that they themſelues haue bin yong. But becauſe heerein I find you to be
both diſcreet and wiſe, I will not onely affirme, what you haue ſeen in me
to be true, but alſo will confeſſe, to whom it is: vpon condition, that the
effect of your promiſe may follow it, according to the power remaining
in you, whereby you onely may ſecure my life.
His Mother, deſirous to bee reſolued, whether his confeſſion would
agree with the Phyſitians words, or no, and reſeruing another intention
to her ſelfe: bad him feare nothing, but freely diſcouer his whole deſire,
and forthwith ſhe doubted not to effect it. Then Madame (quoth hee)
the matchleſſe beauty, and commendable qualities of your maid Gianetta,
to whom (as yet) I haue made no motion, to commiſſerate this my
languiſhing extremity, nor acquainted any liuing creature with my loue:
the concealing of theſe afflictions to my ſelfe, hath brought mee to this
deſperate condition: and if ſome meane bee not wrought, according to
your conſtant promiſe, for the full enioying of my longing deſires, aſſure
your ſelfe (moſt noble Mother) that the date of my life is very ſhort.
The Lady well knowing, that the time now rather required kindeſt
comfort, then any ſeuere or ſharpe reprehenſion; ſmiling on him, ſaide.
Alas deere ſonne, waſt thou ſicke for this? Be of good cheare, and when
thy ſtrength is better reſtored, then referre the matter to me. The young
Gentleman, being put in good hope by his mothers promiſe, began (in
ſhort time) to ſhew apparant ſignes of well-forwarded amendment: to
the Mothers great ioy and comfort, diſpoſing her ſelfe daily to prooue,
how in honor ſhe might keepe promiſe with her Son.
Within a ſhort while after, calling Gianetta priuately to her, in gentle
manner, and by the way of pleaſant diſcourſe, ſhe demanded of her, whither
ſhe was prouided of a Louer, or no. Gianetta, being neuer acquainted
with any ſuch queſtions, a ſcarlet Dye couering all her modeſt countenance,
thus replied. Madam, I haue no neede of any Louer, and very
vnſeemly were it, for ſo poore a Damoſell as I am, to haue ſo much as a
thought of Louers: being baniſhed from my friends and kinsfolke, and
remaining in ſeruice as I do.
If you haue none (anſwered the Lady) wee will beſtowe one on you,
which ſhall content your minde, and bring you to a more pleaſing kinde
of life; becauſe it is farre vnfit, that ſo faire a Maid as you are, ſhould remaine
deſtitute of a louer. Madam, ſayde Gianetta, conſidering with my
ſelfe, that ſince you receiued me of my poore Father, you haue vſed me
rather like your daughter, then a ſeruant; it becommeth mee to doe as
pleaſeth you. Notwithſtanding, I truſt (in the regard of mine own good
and honour) neuer to vſe any complaint in ſuch a caſe: but if you pleaſe
to beſtow a husband on me, I purpoſe to loue and honour him onely, &
not any other. For, of all the inheritance left me by my progenitors, nothing
remaineth to me but honourable honeſty, and that ſhall bee my legacie
ſo long as I liue.
Theſe words were of a quite contrary complexion, to thoſe which
the Lady expected from her, and for effecting the promiſe made vnto hir
Sonne: howbeit (like a wiſe and noble Lady) much ſhee inwardly commended
the maids anſwers, and ſaide vnto her. But tell me Gianetta, what
if my Lord the King (who is a gallant youthfull Prince, and you ſo bright
a beauty as you are) ſhould take pleaſure in your loue, would ye denie
him? Sodainly the Maide returned this anſwer: Madam, the King (perhaps)
might enforce me; but with my free conſent, hee ſhall neuer haue
any thing of me that is not honeſt. Nor did the Lady miſlike her Maides
courage and reſolution, but breaking off all her further conference, intended
ſhortly to put her proiect in proofe, ſaying to her ſon, that when
he was fully recouered, he ſhould haue priuate acceſſe to Gianetta, whom
ſhee doubted not but would be tractable enough to him; for ſhe held it
no meane blemiſh to her honour, to mooue the Maide any more in the
matter, but let him compaſſe it as he could.
Farre from the yong Gentlemans humour was this anſwer of his Mother,
becauſe he aimed not at any diſhonourable end: true, faithfull, &
honeſt loue was the ſole ſcope of his intention, foule and loathſome luſt
he vtterly defied; whereupon, he fell into ſickeneſſe againe, rather more
violently then before. Which the Lady perceiuing, reuealed her whole
intent to Gianetta, and finding her conſtancie beyond common compariſon,
acquainted her Lord with all ſhe had done, and both conſented
(though much againſt their mindes) to let him enioy her in honourable
marriage: accounting it better, for preſeruation of their onely ſons life,
to match him farre inferiour to his degree, then (by denying his deſire)
to let him pine away, and die for her loue.
After great conſultation with kindred and friendes, the match was agreed
vpon, to the no little ioy of Gianetta, who deuoutly returned infinite
thankes to heauen, for ſo mercifully reſpecting her deiected poore
eſtate, after the bitter paſſage of ſo many miſeries, and neuer tearming
her ſelfe any otherwiſe, but the daughter of a poore Piccard. Soone was
the yong Gentleman recouered and married, no man aliue ſo well contented
as he, and ſetting downe an abſolute determination, to lead a louing
life with his Gianetta.
Let vs now conuert our lookes to Wales, to Perotto; being lefte there
with the other Lord Marſhall, who was the Preſident of that Countrey.
On he grew in yeares, choiſely reſpected by his Lord, becauſe hee vvas
moſt comely of perſon, and addicted to all valiant attempts: ſo that in
Tourneyes, Iuſtes, and other actions of Armes, his like was not to bee
found in all the Iſland, being named onely Perotto the valiant Piccard, and
ſo was he famed farre and neere. As God had not forgotten his Siſter,
ſo in mercy he became as mindefull of him; for, a contagious mortalitie
hapning in the Country, the greater part of the people periſhed thereby,
the reſt flying thence into other partes of the Land, whereby the whole
Prouince became diſpeopled and deſolate.
In the time of this plague and dreadful viſitation, the Lord Preſident,
his Lady, Sonnes, Daughters, Brothers, Nephewes, and Kindred dyed,
none remaining aliue, but one onely Daughter marriageable a few of
the houſhold ſeruants, beſide Perotto, whom (after the ſickneſſe was
more mildly aſſwaged) with counſaile and conſent of the Country people,
the young Lady accepted to be her husband, becauſe hee was a man
ſo worthy and valiant, and of all the inheritance left by her deceaſed Father,
ſhe made him Lord and ſole commaunder. Within no long while
after, the King of England, vnderſtanding that his Preſident of Wales was
dead, and fame liberally relating, the vertues, valour, and good parts of
Perotto the Piccard: hee created him to be his Preſident there, and to
ſupply the place of his deceaſed Lord. Theſe faire fortunes, within the
compaſſe of ſo ſhort a time, fell to the two innocent children of the
Count D'Angiers, after they were left by him as loſt and forlorne.
Eighteene yeares were now fully ouer-paſt, ſince the Count D'Angiers
fled from Paris, hauing ſuffered (in miſerable ſo
•
t) many hard and
lamentable aduerſities, and ſeeing himſelfe now to be growne aged hee
was deſirous to leaue Ireland, and to know (if hee might) what was become
of both his children. Hereupon, perceiuing his wonted forme
to be ſo altered, that ſuch as formerly had conuerſed moſt with him,
could now not take any knowledge of him, & feeling his body (through
long labour and exerciſe endured in ſeruice) more luſty, then in his idle
youthfull yeares, eſpecially when he left the Court of France, hee purpoſed
to proceede in his determination. Being very poore and ſimple in
apparell, hee departed from the Iriſh Eare his Maiſter, with whom hee
had continued long in ſeruice, to no aduantage or aduancement, and
croſſing ouer into England, trauailed to the place in Wales, where he left
Perotto: and where hee found him to be Lord Marſhall and Preſident of
the Country, luſty and in good health, a man of goodly feature, and moſt
honourably reſpected and reuerenced of the people.
Well may you imagine, that this was no ſmall comfort to the poore
aged Countes heart, yet would he not make himſelfe knowne to him, or
any other about him? but referred his ioy to a further enlarging or diminiſhing,
by ſight of the other limme of his life, his dearely affected
daughter Gianetta, denying reſt to his body in any place, vntill ſuch time
as he came to London. Making there ſecret enquiry, concerning the Lady
with whom he had left his daughter: hee vnderſtoode, that a young
Gentlewoman, named Gianetta, was married to that Ladies onely Son;
which made a ſecond addition of ioy to his ſoule, accounting all his
paſſed aduerſities of no value, both his children being liuing, and in ſo
high honour.
Hauing found her dwelling, and (like a kinde Father) being earneſtly
deſirous to ſee her; he dayly reſorted neere to the houſe, where Sir Roger
Mandauill (for ſo was Gianettaes husband named) chauncing to ſee him,
being moued to compaſſion, becauſe he was both poore and aged: commaunded
one of his men, to take him into the houſe, and to giue him
ſome foode for Gods ſake, which (accordingly) the ſeruant performed.
Gianetta had diuers children by her husband, the eldeſt of them being but
eight yeares olde, yet all of them ſo faire and comely as could be. As the
olde Count ſate eating his meate in the Hall, the children came all about
him, embracing, hugging, and making much of him, euen as if Nature
had truly inſtructed them, that this was their aged, though poore
Graundfather, and hee as louingly receiuing theſe kinde relations from
them, wiſely and ſilently kept all to himſelfe, with ſighes, teares, and ioyes
entermixed together. So that the children would not part from him,
though their Tutour and Maiſter called them often, which being tolde
to their Mother, ſhee came foorth of the neere adioyning Parlour, and
threatned to beate them, if they would not doe what their Maiſter commanded
them.
Then the children began to cry, ſaying, that they would tarie ſtill by
the good olde man, becauſe he loued them better then their Maiſter did;
whereat both the Lady and the Count began to ſmile. The Count, like
a poore beggar, and not as father to ſo great a Lady, aroſe, and did her
humble reuerence, becauſe ſhee was now a Noble woman, conceiuing
wonderfull ioy in his ſoule, to ſee her ſo faire and goodly a creature: yet
could ſhe take no knowledge of him, age, want and miſery had ſo mightily
altred him, his head all white, his beard without any comely forme,
his garments ſo poore, and his face ſo wrinkled, leane and meager, that
hee ſeemed rather ſome Carter, then a Count. And Gianetta perceiuing,
that when her children were fetcht away, they returned againe
to the olde man, and would not leaue him; deſired their Maiſter to let
them alone.
While thus the children continued making much of the good olde
man, Lord Andrew Mandeuile, Father to Sir Roger, came into the Hall, as
being ſo willed to doe by the Childrens Schoolemaiſter. He being a haſtie
minded man, and one that euer deſpiſed Gianetta before, but much
more ſince her mariage to his ſonne, angerly ſaid. Let them alone with
a miſchiefe, and ſo befall them, their beſt company ought to be with
beggers, for ſo are they bred and borne by the Mothers ſide: and therefore
it is no meruaile, if like will to like, a beggers brats to keepe company
with beggers. The Count hearing theſe contemptible words, was
not a little greeued thereat, and although his courage was greater, then
his poore condition would permit him to expreſſe; yet, clouding all iniuries
with noble patience, hanging downe his head, and ſhedding many
a ſalt teare, endured this reproach, as hee had done many, both before
and after.
But honourable Sir Roger, perceiuing what delight his children tooke
in the poore mans company; albeit he was offended at his Fathers harſh
words, by holding his wife in ſuch baſe reſpect; yet fauoured the poore
Count ſo much the more, and ſeeing him weepe, did greatly compaſſionate
his caſe, ſaying to the poore man, that if hee would accept of his ſeruice,
he willingly would entertaine him. Whereto the Count replied,
that very gladly he would embrace his kinde offer: but hee was capable
of no other ſeruice, ſaue onely to be an horſe-keeper, wherein he had imployed
the moſt part of his time. Heereupon, more for pleaſure and
pitty, then any neceſſity of his ſeruice, he was appointed to the keeping of
one Horſe, which was onely for his Daughters ſaddle, and daily after he
had done his diligence about the Horſe, he did nothing elſe but play with
the children. While Fortune pleaſed thus to dally with the poore Count
D'Angiers, & his children, it came to paſſe, that the King of France (after
diuers leagues of truces paſſed between him & the Germaines) died, and
next after him, his Son the dolphin was crowned King, and it was his wife
that wrongfully cauſed the Counts baniſhment. After expiration of the
laſt league with the Germains, the warres began to grow much more fierce
and ſharpe, and the King of England, (vpon requeſt made to him by his
new brother of France) ſent him very honourable ſupplies of his people,
vnder the conduct of Perotto, his lately elected Preſident of Wales, and
Sir Roger Mandeuile, Son to his other Lord high Marſhall; with whom alſo
the poore Count went, and continued a long while in the Campe as a
common Souldier, where yet like a valiant Gentleman (as indeed he was
no leſſe) both in aduice and actions; he accompliſhed many more notable
matters, then was expected to come from him.
It ſo fell out, that in the continuance of this warre, the Queen of France
fell into a grieuous ſicknes, and perceiuing her ſelfe to be at the point of
death, ſhee became very penitently ſorrowfull for all her ſinnes, earneſtly
deſiring that ſhee might be confeſſed by the Archbiſhop of Roane, who
was reputed to be an holy and vertuous man. In the repetition of her other
offences, ſhe reuealed what great wrong ſhe had done to the Count
D'Angiers, reſting not ſo ſatisfied, with diſcloſing the whole matter to him
alone; but alſo confeſſed the ſame before many other worthy perſons,
and of great honour, entreating them to worke ſo with the King, that (if
the Count were yet liuing, or any of his Children) they might be reſtored
to their former honour againe.
It was not long after, but the Queene left this life, and was moſt royally
enterred, when her confeſſion being diſcloſed to the King, after much
ſorrow for ſo iniuriouſly wronging a man of ſo great valour and honour:
Proclamation was made throughout the Camp, and in many other parts
of France beſide, that whoſoeuer could produce the Count D'Angiers, or
any of his Children, ſhould richly be rewarded for each one of them; in
regard he was innocent of the foule imputation, by the Queenes owne
confeſſion, and for his wrongfull exile ſo long, he ſhould be exalted to
his former honour with farre greater fauours, which the King franckely
would beſtow vpon him. When the Count (who walked vp and downe in
the habite of a common ſeruitor) heard this Proclamation, forth-with he
went to his Maſter Sir Roger Mandeuile, requeſting his ſpeedy repaire to
Lord Perotto, that being both aſſembled together, he would acquaint
them with a ſerious matter, concerning the late Proclamation publiſhed
by the King. Being by themſelues alone in the Tent, the Count ſpake in
this māner to Perotto. Sir, S. Roger Mādeuile here, your equal competitor
in this military ſeruice, is the husband to your naturall ſiſter, hauings yet
neuer receiued any dowry with her, but her inherent vnblemiſhable vertue
& honor. Now becauſe ſhe may not ſtil remain deſtitute of a competent
Dowry: I deſire that Sir Roger, and none other, may enioy the royall reward
promiſed by the King. You Lord Perotto, whoſe true name is Lewes,
manifeſt your ſelfe to be nobly borne, and ſonne to the wrongfull
baniſhed Count D'Angiers: auouch moreouer, that Violenta, ſhadowed
vnder the borrowed name of Gianetta, is your owne Siſter; and deliuer
me vp as your Father, the long exiled Count D'Angiers. Perotto hearing
this, beheld him more aduiſedly, and began to know him: then, the tears
flowing abundantly from his eyes, he fell at his feete, and often embracing
him, ſaide: My deere and noble Father! a thouſand times more
deerely welcome to your Sonne Lewes.
Sir Roger Mandeuile, hearing firſt what the Count had ſaid, and ſeeing
what Perotto afterward performed; became ſurprized with ſuch extraordinary
ioy and admiration, that he knew not how to carry himſelfe in this
caſe. Neuertheleſſe, giuing credite to his words, and being ſomewhat
aſhamed, that he had not vſed the Count in more reſpectiue manner, &
remembring beſide, the vnkinde language of his furious Father to him:
he kneeled downe, humbly crauing pardon, both for his fathers rudenes
and his owne, which was courteouſly granted by the Count, embracing
him louingly in his armes.
When they had a while diſcourſed their ſeuerall fortunes, ſometime
in teares, and then againe in ioy, Perotto and Sir Roger, would haue the
Count to be garmented in better manner, but in no wiſe he would ſuffer
it; for it was his onely deſire, that Sir Roger ſhould be aſſured of the promiſed
reward, by preſenting him in the Kings preſence, and in the homely
habit which he did then weare, to touch him with the more ſenſible
ſhame, for his raſh beleefe, and iniurious proceeding. Then Sir Roger
Mandeuile, guiding the Count by the hand, and Perotto following after,
came before the King, offering to preſent the Count and his children, if
the reward promiſed in the Proclamation might be performed. The king
immediately commanded, that a reward of ineſtimable valew ſhould be
produced; deſiring Sir Roger vppon the ſight thereof, to make good his
offer, for forthwith preſenting the Count and his children. Which hee
made no longer delay of, but turning himſelfe about, deliuered the aged
Count, by the title of his ſeruant, and preſenting Perotto next, ſaid. Sir,
heere I deliuer you the Father and his Son, his daughter who is my wife,
cannot ſo conueniently be heere now, but ſhortly, by the permiſſion of
heauen, your Maieſty ſhall haue a ſight of her.
When the King heard this, ſtedfaſtly he looked on the Count; and,
notwithſtanding his wonderfull alteration, both from his wonted feature
and forme: yet, after he had very ſeriouſly viewed him, he knew him perfectly;
and the teares trickling downe his cheekes, partly with remorſefull
ſhame, and ioy alſo for his ſo happy recouery, he tooke vp the Count
from kneeling, kiſſing, and embracing him very kindely, welcomming
Perotto in the ſelfeſame manner. Immediately alſo he gaue commaund,
that the Count ſhould be reſtored to his honors, apparrell, ſeruants, horſes,
and furniture, anſwerable to his high eſtate and calling, which was as
ſpeedily performed. Moreouer, the King greatly honoured Sir Roger
Mandeuile, deſiring to be made acquainted with all their paſſed fortunes.
When Sir Roger had receiued the royall reward, for thus ſurrendring
the Count and his Sonne, the Count calling him to him, ſaide. Take that
Princely remuneration of my ſoueraigne Lord the King, and commending
me to your vnkinde Father, tell him that your Children are no beggars
brats, neither baſely borne by their Mothers ſide. Sir Roger returning
home with his bountifull reward, ſoone after brought his Wife and
Mother to Paris, and ſo did Perotto his Wife, where in great ioy and triumph,
they continued a long while with the noble Count; who had all his
goods and honours reſtored to him, in far
•
e greater meaſure then euer
they were before: his Sonnes in Law returning home with their Wiues
into England, left the Count with the King at Paris, where he ſpent the
reſt of his dayes in great honour and felicity.
Bernardo, a Merchant of Geneway, being deceiued by another Merchant, named Ambroſio, loſt a great part of his goods. And commanding his innocent Wife to be murthered, ſhee eſcaped, and (in the habite of a man) became ſeruant to the Soldane. The deceiuer being found at laſt, ſhee compaſſed ſuch meanes, that her Husband Bernardo came into Alexandria, and there, after due puniſhment inflicted on the falſe deceiuer, ſhee reſumed the garments againe of a woman, and returned home with her Husband to Geneway.
The ninth Nouell.
Wherein is declared, that by ouer-liberall commending the chaſtity of Women, it falleth out (oftentimes) to be very dangerous, eſpecially by the meanes of treacherers, who yet (in the ende) are iuſtly puniſhed for their treachery.
MAdam Eliza hauing ended her compaſſionate diſcourſe, which indeede
had moued all the reſt to ſighing; the Queene, who was faire,
comely of ſtature, and carrying a very maieſticall countenance, ſmiling
more familiarly then the other, ſpake to them thus. It is very neceſſary,
that the promiſe made to Dioneus, ſhould carefully be kept, and becauſe
now there remaineth none, to report any more Nouels, but onely he and
my ſelfe: I muſt firſt deliuer mine, and he (who takes it for an honour) to
be the laſt in relating his name, laſt let him be for his owne deliuerance.
Then pauſing a little while, thus ſhee began againe. Many times among
vulgar people, it hath paſſed as a common Prouerbe: That the deceiuer
is often trampled on, by ſuch as he hath deceiued. And this cannot ſhew
it ſelfe (by any reaſon) to be true, except ſuch accidents as awaite on treachery,
doe really make a iuſt diſcouery thereof. And therefore according
to the courſe of this day obſerued, I am the woman, that muſt make good
what I haue ſaide for the approbation of that Prouerbe: no way (I hope)
diſtaſtfull to you in the hearing, but aduantageable to preſerue you from
any ſuch beguiling.
There was a faire and good Inne in Paris, much frequented by many
great Italian Merchants, according to ſuch variety of occaſions and buſineſſe,
as vrged their often reſorting thither. One night among many other,
hauing had a merry Supper together, they began to diſcourſe on diuers
matters, and falling from one relation to another; they communed
in very friendly manner, concerning their wiues, lefte at home in their
houſes. Quoth the firſt, I cannot well imagine what my wife is now doing,
but I am able to ſay for my ſelfe, that if a pretty female ſhould fall into
my company: I could eaſily forget my loue to my wife, and make vſe
of ſuch an aduantage offered.
A ſecond replyed; And truſt me, I ſhould do no leſſe, becauſe I am
perſwaded, that if my wife be willing to wander, the law is in her owne
hand, and I am farre enough from home: dumbe walles blab no tales, &
offences vnknowne are ſildome or neuer called in queſtion. A thirde
man vnapt in cenſure, with his former fellowes of the Iury; and it plainly
appeared, that al the reſt were of the ſame opinion, condemning their
wiues ouer-raſhly, and alledging, that when husbands ſtrayed ſo far from
home, their wiues had wit enough to make vſe of their time.
Onely one man among them all, named Bernardo Lomellino, & dwelling
in Geneway, maintained the contrary; boldly auouching, that by the
eſpeciall fauour of Fortune, he had a wife ſo perfectly compleat in al graces
and vertues, as any Lady in the world poſſibly could be, and that Italy
ſcarſely contained her equall. For, ſhe was goodly of perſon, and yet
very young, quicke, quaint, milde, and courteous, and not any thing appertaining
to the office of a wife, either for domeſticke affayres, or any
other imployment whatſoeuer, but in woman-hoode ſhee went beyond
all other. No Lord, Knight, Eſquire, or Gentleman, could bee better
ſerued at his table, then himſelfe dayly was, with more wiſedome, modeſty
and diſcretion. After all this, hee praiſed her for riding, hawking,
hunting, fiſhing, fowling, reading, writing, enditing, and moſt abſolute
keeping his Bookes of accounts, that neither himſelfe, or any other Merchant
could therein excell her. After infinite other commendations, he
came to the former point of their argument, concerning the eaſie falling
of women into wantonneſſe, maintaining (with a ſolemne oath) that no
woman poſſibly could be more chaſte and honeſt then ſhe: in which reſpect,
he was verily perſwaded, that if he ſtayed from her ten yeares ſpace,
yea (all his life time) out of his houſe; yet neuer would ſhee falſifie her
faith to him, or be lewdly allured by any other man.
Among theſe Merchants thus communing together, there was a
young proper man, named Ambroginolo of Placentia, who began to laugh
at the laſt praiſes, which Bernardo had vſed of his wife, and ſeeming to
make a mockerie thereat, demaunded, if the Emperour had giuen him
this priuiledge, aboue all other married men? Bernardo being ſomewhat
offended, anſwered: No Emperour bath done it, but the eſpeciall bleſſing
of heauen, exceeding all the Emperours on the earth in grace, and
thereby haue receiued this fauour; whereto Ambroginolo preſently thus
replied. Bernardo, without all queſtion to the contrary, I beleeue that
what thou haſt ſaid, is true, but, for ought I can perceiue, thou haſt ſlender
iudgement in the nature of things: becauſe, if thou didſt obſerue
them well, thou couldſt not be of ſo groſſe vnderſtanding; for, by comprehending
matters in their true kinde and nature, thou wouldſt ſpeake
of them more correctly then thou doeſt. And to the end, thou mayeſt
not imagine, that wee who haue ſpoken of our wiues, doe thinke any
otherwiſe of them, then as well and honeſtly as thou canſt of thine, nor
that any thing elſe did vrge theſe ſpeeches of them, or falling into this
kinde of diſcourſe, but onely by a naturall inſtinct and admonition; I will
proceede familiarly a little further with thee, vpon the matter already
propounded.
I haue euermore vnderſtood, that man was the moſt noble creature,
formed by God to liue in this world, and woman in the next degree to
him: but man, as generally is beleeued, and as is diſcerned by apparant
effects, is the moſt perfect of both. Hauing then the moſt perfection in
him, without all doubt, he muſt be ſo much the more firme and conſtant.
So in like manner, it hath beene, and is vniuerſally graunted, that woman
is more various and mutable, and the reaſon thereof may be approued,
by many naturall circumſtances, which were needleſſe now to make
any mention of. If a man then be poſſeſſed of the greater ſtability, and
yet cannot containe himſelfe from condiſcending, I ſay not to one that
entreates him, but to deſire any other that may pleaſe him, and beſide,
to couet the enioying of his owne pleaſing contentment (a thing not
chancing to him once in a moneth, but infinite times in a dayes ſpace.)
What can you then conceiue of a fraile woman, ſubiect (by nature) to
entreaties, flatteries, gifts, perſwaſions, and a thouſand other enticing
meanes, which a man (that is affected to her) can vſe? Doeſt thou think
then that ſhee hath any power to containe? Aſſuredly, though thou
ſhouldſt reſt ſo reſolued, yet cannot I be of the ſame opinion. For I am
ſure thou beleeueſt, and muſt needes confeſſe it, that thy wife is a woman,
made
•
of fleſh and blood, as other women are: if it be ſo, ſhee
cannot be without the ſame deſires, and the weakeneſſe or ſtrength as
other women haue, to reſiſt ſuch naturall appetites as her owne are. In
regard whereof, it is meerely impoſſible (although ſhee be moſt honeſt)
but ſhe muſt needs do that which other women do; for there is nothing
elſe poſſible, either to be denied or affirmed to the contrary, as thou moſt
vnaduiſedly haſt done.
Bernardo anſwered in this manner. I am a Merchant▪ and no Philoſopher,
and like a Merchant I meane to anſwere thee. I am not to learne,
that theſe accidents by thee related, may happen to fooles, who are void
of vnderſtanding or ſhame: but ſuch as are wiſe, and endued with vertue,
haue alwayes ſuch a precious eſteeme of their honour, that they will
containe thoſe principles of conſtancie, which men are meerely careleſſe
of, and I iuſtifie my wife to be one of them. Beleeue me Bernardo (replied
Ambroginolo) if ſo often as thy wiues minde is addicted to wanton folly,
a badge of ſcorne ſhould ariſe on thy forehead, to render teſtimonie
of her female frailty; I beleeue the number of them would be more, then
willingly you would wiſh them to be. And among all married men, in
euery degree, the notes are ſo ſecret of their wiues imperfections, that
the ſharpeſt ſight is not able to diſcerne them; and the wiſer ſort of men
are willing not to know them; becauſe ſhame and loſſe of honour is neuer
impoſed, but in caſes euident and apparant.
Perſwade thy ſelfe then Bernardo, that, what women may accompliſh
in ſecret, they will rarely faile to doe: or if they abſtaine, it is through
feare and folly. Wherefore, hold it for a certaine rule, that that woman
is onely chaſte, that neuer was ſolicited perſonally, or if ſhe endured any
ſuch ſute, either ſhee anſwered yea, or no. And albeit I know this to be
true, by many infallible and naturall reaſons, yet could I not ſpeake ſo exactly
as I doe; if I had not tried experimentally, the humours and affections
of diuers women. Yea, and let me tell thee more Bernardo, were I
in priuate company with thy wife, howſoeuer pure and preciſe thou preſumeſt
her to be: I ſhould account it a matter of no impoſſibility, to finde
in her the ſelfe ſame frailty.
Bernardoes blood began now to boile, and patience being a little put
downe by choller, thus hee replied. A combat of words requires ouerlong
continuance, for I maintaine the matter, which thou denieſt, and
all this ſorts to nothing in the end. But ſeeing thou preſumeſt, that all
women are ſo apt and tractable, and thy ſelfe ſo confident of thine owne
power: I willingly yeeld (for the better aſſurance of my wifes conſtant
loyalty) to haue my head ſmitten off, if thou canſt winne her to any ſuch
diſhoneſt act, by any meanes whatſoeuer thou canſt vſe vnto her; which
if thou canſt not doe, thou ſhalt onely looſe a thouſand duckets of gold.
Now began Ambroginolo to be heated with theſe words, anſwering thus.
Bernardo, if I had won the wager, I know not what I ſhould doe with thy
head; but if thou be willing to ſtand vpon the proofe, pawne downe fiue
thouſand Duckets of gold, (a matter of much leſſe value then thy head)
againſt a thouſand Duckets of mine, granting me a lawfull limitted time,
which I require to be no more then the ſpace of three moneths, after the
day of my departiug hence. I will ſtand bound to goe for Geneway, and
there winne ſuch kinde conſent of thy Wife, as ſhall be to mine owne
conſent. In witneſſe whereof, I will bring backe with me ſuch priuate
and eſpeciall tokens, as thou thy ſelfe ſhalt confeſſe that I haue not failed.
Prouided, that thou doe firſt promiſe vpon thy faith, to abſent thy ſelfe
thence during my limitted time, and be no hinderance to me by thy Letters,
concerning the attempt by me vndertaken.
Bernardo ſaide, be it a bargaine, I am the man that will make good
my fiue thouſand Duckets; and albeit the other Merchants then preſent,
earneſtly laboured to breake the wager, knowing great harme muſt needs
enſue thereon: yet both the parties were ſo hot and fiery, as all the other
men ſpake to no effect, but writings were made, ſealed, and deliuered vnder
either of their hands, Bernardo remaining at Paris, and Ambroginolo
departing for Geneway. There he remained ſome few dayes, to learne the
ſtreetes name where Bernardo dwelt, as alſo the conditions and qualities
of his Wife, which ſcarcely pleaſed him when he heard them; becauſe
they were farre beyond her Husbands relation, and ſhee reputed to be
the onely wonder of women; whereby he plainely perceiued, that he had
vndertaken a very idle enterpriſe, yet would he not giue it ouer ſo, but
proceeded therein a little further.
He wrought ſuch meanes, that he came acquainted with a poore woman,
who often frequented Bernardoes houſe, and was greatly in fauour
with his wife; vpon whoſe pouerty he ſo preuailed, by earneſt perſwaſions,
but much more by large gifts of money, that he won her to further
him in this manner following. A faire and artificiall Cheſt he cauſed to
be purpoſely made, wherein himſelfe might be aptly contained, and ſo
conueyed into the Houſe of Bernardoes Wife, vnder colour of a formall
excuſe; that the poore woman ſhould be abſent from the City two or
three dayes, and ſhee muſt keepe it ſafe till he returne. The Gentlewoman
ſuſpecting no guile, but that the Cheſt was the receptacle of all the
womans wealth; would truſt it in no other roome, then her owne Bedchamber,
which was the place where Ambroginolo moſt deſired to
bee.
Being thus conueyed into the Chamber, the night going on apace,
and the Gentlewoman faſt aſleepe in her bed, a lighted Taper ſtood burning
on the Table by her, as in her Husbands abſence ſhee euer vſed to
haue: Ambroginolo ſoftly opened the Cheſt, according as cunningly hee
had contriued it; and ſtepping forth in his ſockes made of cloath, obſerued
the ſcituation of the Chamber, the paintings, pictures, and beautifull
hangings, with all things elſe that were remarkable, which perfectly he
committed to his memory. Going neere to the bed, he ſaw her lie there
ſweetly ſleeping, and her young Daughter in like manner by her, ſhee ſeeming
then as compleate and pleaſing a creature, as when ſhee was attired
in her beſt brauery. No eſpeciall note or marke could hee deſcrie,
whereof he might make credible report, but onely a ſmall wart vpon her
left pappe, with ſome few haires growing thereon, appearing to be as yellow
as gold.
Sufficient had he ſeene, and durſt preſume no further; but taking one
of her Rings, which lay vpon the Table, a purſe of hers, hanging by on
the wall, a light wearing Robe of ſilke, and her girdle, all which he put
into the Cheſt; and being in himſelfe, cloſed it faſt as it was before, ſo continuing
there in the Chamber two ſeuerall nights, the Gentlewoman
neither miſtruſting or miſſing any thing. The third day being come, the
poore woman, according as formerly was concluded, came to haue
home her Cheſt againe, and brought it ſafely into her owne houſe; where
Ambroginolo comming forth of it, ſatisfied the poore woman to her own
liking, returning (with all the forenamed things) ſo faſt as conueniently
he could to Paris.
Being arriued there long before his limitted time, he called the Merchants
together, who were preſent at the paſſed words and wager; auouching
before Bernardo, that he had won his fiue thouſand Duckets, and
performed the taske he vndertooke. To make good his proteſtation, firſt
he deſcribed the forme of the Chamber, the curious pictures hanging about
it, in what manner the bed ſtood, and euery circumſtance elſe beſide.
Next he ſhewed the ſeuerall things, which he brought away thence
with him, affirming that he had receiued them of her ſelfe. Bernardo confeſſed,
that his deſcription of the Chamber was true, and acknowledged
moreouer, that theſe other things did belong to his Wife: But (quoth
he) this may be gotten, by corrupting ſome ſeruant of mine, both for
intelligence of the Chamber, as alſo of the Ring, Purſe, and what elſe is
beſide; all which ſuffice not to win the wager, without ſome other more
apparant and pregnant token. In troth, anſwered Ambroginolo, me thinks
theſe ſhould ſerue for ſufficient proofes; but ſeeing thou art ſo deſirous to
know more: I plainely tell thee, that faire Geneura thy Wife, hath a ſmall
round wart vpon her left pappe, and ſome few little golden haires growing
thereon.
When Bernardo heard theſe words, they were as ſo many ſtabs to his
heart, yea, beyond all compaſſe of patient ſufferance, and by the changing
of his colour, it was noted manifeſtly, (being vnable to vtter one word)
that Ambroginolo had ſpoken nothing but the truth. Within a while after,
he ſaide; Gentlemen, that which Ambroginolo hath ſaide, is very true,
wherefore let him come when he will, and he ſhall be paide; which accordingly
he performed on the very next day, euen to the vtmoſt penny, departing
then from Paris towards Geneway, with a moſt malicious intention
to his Wife: Being come neere to the City, he would not enter it,
but rode to a Countrey houſe of his, ſtanding about tenne miles diſtant
thence. Being there arriued, he called a ſeruant, in whom hee repoſed
eſpeciall truſt, ſending him to Geneway with two Horſes, writing to his
Wife, that he was returned, and ſhee ſhould come thither to ſee him. But
ſecretly he charged his ſeruant, that ſo ſoone as he had brought her to a
conuenient place, he ſhould there kill her, without any pitty or compaſſion,
and then returne to him againe.
When the ſeruant was come to Geneway, and had deliuered his Letter
and meſſage, Geneura gaue him moſt ioyfull welcome, and on the
morrow morning mounting on Horſe-backe with the ſeruant, rode merrily
towards the Countrey houſe; diuers things ſhee diſcourſed on by the
way, til they deſcended into a deepe ſolitary valey, very thickly beſet with
high and huge ſpreading Trees, which the ſeruant ſuppoſed to be a meete
place, for the execution of his Maſters command. Suddenly drawing
forth his Sword, and holding Geneura faſt by the arme, he ſaide; Miſtreſſe,
quickly commend your ſoule to God, for you muſt die, before you paſſe
any further. Geneura ſeeing the naked Sword, and hearing the words ſo
peremptorily deliuered, fearefully anſwered; Alas deare friend, mercy
for Gods ſake; and before thou kill me, tell me wherein I haue offended
thee, and why thou muſt kill me? Alas good Miſtreſſe replied the ſerua
•
t,
you haue not any way offended me, but in what occaſion you haue diſpleaſed
your Husband, it is vtterly vnknowne to me: for he hath ſtrictly
commanded me, without reſpect of pitty or compaſſion, to kill you by
the way as I bring you, and if I doe it not, he hath ſworne to hang me by
the necke. You know good Miſtreſſe, how much I ſtand obliged to him,
and how impoſſible it is for me, to contradict any thing that he commandeth.
God is my witneſſe, that I am truly compaſſionate of you, and yet
(by no meanes) may I let you liue.
Geneura kneeling before him weeping, wringing her hands, thus replied.
Wilt thou turne Monſter, and be a murtherer of her that neuer
wronged thee, to pleaſe another man, and on a bare command? God, who
truly knoweth all things, is my faithfull witneſſe, that I neuer committed
any offence, whereby to deſerue the diſlike of my Husband, much leſſe
ſo harſh a recompence as this is. But flying from mine owne iuſtification,
and appealing to thy manly mercy, thou mayeſt (wert thou but ſo
well pleaſed) in a moment ſatisfie both thy Maſter and me, in ſuch manner
as I will make plaine and apparant to thee. Take thou my garments,
ſpare me onely thy doublet, and ſuch a Bonnet as is fitting for a man, ſo
returne with my habite to thy Maſter, aſſuring him, that the deede is
done. And here I ſweare to thee, by that life which I enioy but by thy
mercy, I will ſo ſtrangely diſguiſe my ſelfe, and wander ſo farre off from
theſe Countries, as neither he or thou, nor any perſon belonging to theſe
parts, ſhall euer heare any tydings of me.
The ſeruant, who had no great good will to kill her, very eaſily grew
pittifull, tooke off her vpper garments, and gaue her a poore ragged doublet,
a ſillie Chapperone, and ſuch ſmall ſtore of money as he had, deſiring
her to forſake that Countrey, and ſo left her to walke on foote out
of the vally. When he came to his Maiſter, and had deliuered him her
garments, he aſſured him, that he had not onely accompliſhed his commaund,
but alſo was moſt ſecure from any diſcouery: becauſe he had no
ſooner done the deede, but foure or fiue very rauenous Wolfes, came
preſently running to the dead body, and gaue it buriall in their bellies.
Bernardo ſoone after returning to Geneway, was much blamed for ſuch
vnkinde cruelty to his wife; but his conſtant auouching of her treaſon to
him (according then to the Countries cuſtome) did cleare him from all
purſuite of law.
Poore Geneura, was left thus alone and diſconſolate, and night ſtealing
faſt vpon her, ſhee went to a ſilly village neere adioyning▪ where (by the
meanes of a good olde woman) ſhe got ſuch prouiſion as the place afforded,
making the doublet fit to her body, and conuerting her petticote
to a paire of breeches, according to the Mariners faſhion: then cutting
her haire, and queintly diſguiſed like to a Sayler, ſhee went to the Sea
coaſt. By good fortune, ſhe met there with a Gentleman of Cathalogna,
whoſe name was Signior Enchararcho, who came on land from his Ship,
which lay hulling there about Albagia, to refreſh himſelfe at a pleaſant
Spring. Enchararcho taking her to be a man, as ſhee appeared no otherwiſe
by her habite; vpon ſome conference paſſing betweene them, ſhee
was entertained into his ſeruice, and being brought aboord the Ship,
ſhe went vnder the name of Sicurano da Finale. There ſhee had better
apparell beſtowne on her by the Gentleman, and her ſeruice proued ſo
pleaſing and acceptable to him, that hee liked her care and diligence beyond
all compariſon.
It came to paſſe within a ſhort while after, that this Gentleman of
Cathalogna ſayled (with ſome charge of his) into Alexandria, carying thither
c
•
rtaine peregrine Faulcons, which hee preſented to the Soldane:
who oftentimes welcommed this Gentleman to his table, where hee obſerued
the behauiour of Sicurano, attending on his Maiſters tre
•
cher,
and therewith was ſo highly pleaſed; that he requeſted to haue him from
the Gentleman, who (for his more aduancement) willingly parted with
his ſo lately entertained ſeruant▪
Sicurano was ſo ready and diſcreete in
his dayly ſeruices; that he grew in as great grace with the Soldane, as before
he had done with Enchararcho.
At a certaine ſeaſon in the yeare, as cuſtomarie order (there obſerued)
had formerly beene, in the Citie of Acres, which was vnder the Soldanes
ſubiection: there yearely met a great aſſembly of Merchants, as Chriſtians,
Moores, Iewes, Sarrazines, and many other Nations beſide, as at a
common Mart or Fayre. And to the end, that the Merchants (for the
better ſale of their goods) might be there in the ſafer aſſurance; the Soldane
vſed to ſend thither ſome of his ordinarie Officers, and a ſtrong
guard of Souldiers beſide, to defend them from all iniuries and moleſtation,
becauſe he reaped thereby no meane benefit. And who ſhould be
now ſent about this buſineſſe, but his new elected fauourite Sicurano; becauſe
ſhe was skilfull and perfect in the languages.
Sicurano being come to Acres, as Lord and Captaine of the Guard
for the Merchants, and for the ſafety of their Merchandizes▪ ſhe diſcharged
her office moſt commendably, walking with her traine through euery
part of the Fayre, where ſhee obſerued a worthy company of Merchants,
Sicilians, Piſanes, Genewayes, Venetians, and other Italians,
whom the more willingly ſhee noted, in remembrance of her natiue
Countrey. At one eſpeciall time, among other, chancing into a Shop or
Boothe belonging to the Venetians; ſhe eſpied (hanging vp with other
coſtly wares) a Purſe and a Girdle, which ſuddainly ſhee remembred to
be ſometime her owne, whereat ſhe was not a little abaſhed in her mind.
But, without making any ſuch outward ſhew, courteouſly ſhe requeſted
to know, whoſe they were, and whether they ſhould be ſold, or no.
Ambroginolo of Placentia, was likewiſe come thither, and great ſtore of
Merchandizes hee had brought with him, in a Carrack appertaining to
the Venetians, and hee, hearing the Captaine of the Guard demaund,
whoſe they were; ſtepped foorth before him, and ſmiling, anſwered:
That they w
•
re his, but not to be ſolde, yet if hee liked them gladly, hee
would beſtowe them on him. Sicurano ſeeing him ſmile, ſuſpected, leaſt
himſelfe had (by ſome vnfitting behauiour) beene the occaſion thereof:
and therefore, with a more ſetled countenance, hee ſaid. Perhaps thou
ſmileſt, becauſe I that am a man, profeſſing Armes, ſhould queſtion after
ſuch womaniſh toyes. Ambroginolo replied. My Lord, pardon me,
Iſmile not at you, or your demaund; but at the manner how I came by
theſe things.
Sicurano, vpon this anſwere, was ten times more deſirous then before,
and ſaid. If Fortune fauoured thee in friendly manner, by the obtaining
of theſe things: if it may be ſpoken, tell me how thou hadſt them. My
Lord (anſwered Ambroginolo) theſe things (with many more beſide)
were giuen me by a Gentlewoman of Geneway, named Madame Geneura,
the wife to one Bernardo Lomellino, in recompence of one nights lodging
with her, and ſhe deſired me to keepe them for her ſake. Now, the maine
reaſon of my ſmiling, was the remembrance of her husbands folly, in waging
fiue thouſand Duckets of golde, againſt one thouſand of mine, that
I ſhould not obtaine my will of his wife, which I did, and thereby wone
the wager. But hee, who better deſerued to be puniſhed for his folly,
then ſhee, who was but ſicke of all womens diſeaſe: returning from Paris
to Geneway, cauſed her to be ſlaine, as afterward it was reported by
himſelfe.
When Sicurano heard this horrible lye, immediatly ſhee conceiued,
that this was the occaſion of her husbands hatred to her, and all the hard
haps which ſhe had ſince ſuffered: whereupon, ſhee reputed it for more
then a mortall ſinne, if ſuch a villaine ſhould paſſe without due puniſhment.
Sicurano ſeemed to like well this report, and grew into ſuch familiarity
with Ambroginolo, that (by her perſwaſions) when the Fayre was
ended, ſhe tooke him higher with her into Alexandria, and all his Wares
along with him, furniſhing him with a fit and conuenient Shop, where he
made great benefit of his Merchandizes, truſting all his monies in the
Captaines cuſtody, becauſe it was the ſafeſt courſe for him, and ſo he continued
there with no meane contentment.
Much did ſhee pitty her Husbands perplexity, deuiſing by what good
and warrantable meanes, ſhe might make knowne her innocency to him;
wherein her place and authority did greatly ſted her, and ſhee wrought
with diuers gallant Merchants of Geneway, that then remained in Alexandria,
and by vertue of the Soldans friendly Letters, beſide to bring him thither
vpon an eſpeciall occaſion. Come he did, albeit in poore and meane
order, which ſoone was better altered by her appointment, and he very
honourably (though in priuate) entertained by diuers of her worthy
friends, till time did fauour what ſhee further intended.
In the expectation of Bernardoes arriuall, ſhee had ſo preuailed with
Ambroginolo, that the ſame tale which he formerly tolde to her, he deliuered
againe in preſence of the Soldane, who ſeemed to be well pleaſed with
it: But after ſhee had once ſeene her Husband, ſhee thought vpon her
more ſerious buſineſſe; prouiding her ſelfe of an apt opportunity, when
ſhee entreated ſuch fauour of the Soldane, that both the men might be
brought before him, where if Ambroginolo would not confeſſe (without
conſtraint) that which he had made his vaunt of concerning Bernardoes
Wife, he might be compelled thereto perforce.
Sicuranoes word was a Law with the Soldane, ſo that Ambroginolo and
Bernardo being brought face to face, the Soldane, with a ſterne and angry
countenance, in the preſence of a moſt Princely Aſſembly; commanded
Ambroginolo to declare the truth, yea, vpon peril of his life, by what means
he won the wager, of the fiue thouſand golden Duckets he receiued of
Bernardo. Ambroginolo ſeeing Sicurano there preſent, vpon whoſe fauour
he wholly relied, yet perceiuing her lookes likewiſe to be as dreadfull as
the Soldanes, and hearing her threaten him with moſt greeuous torments,
except he reuealed the truth indeede: you may eaſily gueſſe (faire company)
in what condition he ſtood at that inſtant.
Frownes and fury he beheld on either ſide, and Bernardo ſtanding before
him, with a world of famous witneſſes, to heare his lie confounded
by his owne confeſſion, and his tongue to denie what it had before ſo
conſtantly auouched. Yet dreaming on no other paine or penalty, but reſtoring
backe the fiue thouſand Duckets of gold, and the other things by
him purloyned, truly he reuealed the whole forme of his falſhood. Then
Sicurano according as the Soldane had formerly commanded him, turning
to Bernardo, ſaide. And thou, vpon the ſuggeſtion of this foule lie,
what didſt thou to thy Wife? Being (quoth Bernardo) ouercome with
rage, for the loſſe of my money, and the diſhonour I ſuppoſed to receiue
by my Wife; I cauſed a ſeruant of mine to kill her, and as he credibly auouched,
her body was deuoured by rauenous Wolues in a moment
after.
Theſe things being thus ſpoken and heard, in the preſence of the Soldane,
and no reaſon (as yet) made knowne, why the caſe was ſo ſeriouſly
vrged, and to what end it would ſucceede: Sicurano ſpake in this manner
to the Soldane. My gracious Lord, you may plainely perceiue, in what
degree that poore Gentlewoman might make her vaunt, being ſo well
prouided, both of a louing friend, and a husband. Such was the friends
loue, that in an inſtant, and by a wicked lye, hee robbed her both of her
renowne and honour, and bereft her alſo of her husband. And her huſband,
rather crediting anothers falſhood, then the inuincible trueth,
whereof he had faithfull knowledge, by long and very honourable experience;
cauſed her to be ſlaine, and made foode for deuouring Wolues.
Beſide all this, ſuch was the good will and affection, borne to that woman
both by friend and husband, that the longeſt continuer of them in
her company, makes them alike in knowledge of her. But becauſe your
great wiſedome knoweth perfectly, what each of them haue worthily deſerued:
if you pleaſe (in your euer knowne gracious benignity) to permit
the puniſhment of the deceiuer, and pardon the party ſo deceiued;
I will procure ſuch meanes, that ſhe ſhall appeare here in your preſence,
and theirs.
The Soldane, being deſirous to giue Sicurano all manner of ſatisfaction,
hauing followed the courſe ſo induſtriouſly: bad him to produce the
woman, and hee was well contented. Whereat Bernardo ſtoode much
amazed, becauſe he verily beleeued that ſhe was dead. And Ambroginolo
foreſeeing already a preparation for puniſhment, feared, that the repayment
of the money would not now ſerue his turne: not knowing alſo
what he ſhould further hope or ſuſpect, if the woman her ſelfe did perſonally
appeare, which hee imagined would be a miracle. Sicurano hauing
thus obtayned the Soldanes permiſſion, in teares, humbling her
ſelfe at his feete, in a moment ſhee loſt her manly voyce and demeanour,
as knowing, that ſhe was now no longer to vſe them, but muſt truely witneſſe
what ſhe was indeede, and therefore thus ſpake.
Great Soldane, I am the miſerable and vnfortunate Geneura, that, for
the ſpace of ſixe whole yeares, haue wandered through the world, in the
habite of a man, falſly and moſt maliciouſly ſlaundered, by this villainous
traytour Ambroginolo, and by this vnkinde cruell husband, betrayed
to his ſeruant to be ſlaine, and left to be deuoured by ſauage beaſts. Afterward,
deſiring ſuch garments as better fitted for her, and ſhewing her
breſts; ſhe made it apparant, before the Soldane and his aſſiſtants, that
ſhe was the very ſame woman indeede. Then turning her ſelfe to Ambroginolo,
with more then manly courage, ſhe demaunded of him, when,
and where it was, that he lay with her, as (villainouſly) he was not aſhamed
to make his vaunt. But hee, hauing alreadie acknowledged the
contrarie, being ſtricken dumbe with ſhamefull diſgrace, was not able to
vtter one word.
The Soldane, who had alwayes reputed Sicurano to be a man, hauing
heard and ſeene ſo admirable an accident: was ſo amazed in his minde,
that many times he was very doubtfull, whether this was a dreame, or an
abſolute relation of trueth. But, after hee had more ſeriouſly conſidered
thereon, and found it to be reall and infallible: with extraordinary gracious
praiſes, he commended the life, conſtancie, conditions and vertues
of Geneura, whom (till that time) he had alwayes called Sicurano. So committing
her to the company of honourable Ladies, to be changed from
her manly habite: he pardoned Bernardo her husband (according to her
requeſt formerly made) although hee had more iuſtly deſerued death;
which likewiſe himſelfe confeſſed, and falling at the feete of Geneura, deſired
her (in teares) to forgiue his raſh tranſgreſſion, which moſt louingly
ſhe did, kiſſing and embracing him a thouſand times.
Then the Soldane ſtrictly commaunded, that on ſome high and eminent
place of the Citie, Ambroginolo ſhould be bound and impaled on a
Stake, hauing his naked body anointed all ouer with honey, and neuer to
be taken off, vntill (of it ſelfe) it fell in pieces, which, according to the
ſentence, was preſently performed. Next, he gaue expreſſe charge, that
all his mony and goods ſhould be giuen to Geneura, which valued aboue
ten thouſand double Duckets. Forth-with with a ſolemne feaſt was prepared,
wherein, much honour was done to Bernardo, being the husband
of Geneura: and to her, as to a moſt worthy woman, and matchleſſe wife,
he gaue in coſtly Iewels, as alſo veſſels of gold and ſiluer plate, ſo much
as amounted to aboue ten thouſand double Duckets more.
When the feaſting was finiſhed, he cauſed a Ship to be furniſhed for
them, graunting them licence to depart for Geneway when they pleaſed:
whither they returned moſt rich and ioyfully, being welcommed home
with great honour, eſpecially Madame Geneura, whom euery one ſuppoſed
to be dead, and alwayes after, ſo long as ſhee liued, ſhee was moſt famous
for her manifold vertues. But as for Ambroginolo, the very ſame
day that he was impaled on the Stake, annointed with honey, and fixed
in the place appointed, to his no meane torment: he not onely died, but
likewiſe was deuoured to the bare bones, by Flyes, Waſpes and Hornets,
whereof the Countrey notoriouſly aboundeth. And his bones, in full
forme and faſhion, remained ſtrangely blacke for a long while after, knit
together by the ſinewes; as a witneſſe to many thouſands of people,
which afterward beheld his carkaſſe of his wickedneſſe againſt ſo good
and vertuous a woman, that had not ſo much as a thought of any euill
towards him. And thus was the Prouerbe truly verified, that ſhame ſucceedeth
after vgly ſinne, and the deceiuer is trampled and trod, by ſuch
as himſelfe hath deceiued.
Pagammo da Monaco, a rouing Pirate on the Seas, caried away the faire Wife of Signior Ricciardo di Chinzica, who vnderstanding where ſhee was▪ went thither; and falling into friendſhip with Pagamino, demaunded his Wife of him; whereto he yeelded, prouided, that ſhee would willingly goe away with him. She denied to part thence with her Husband, and Signior Ricciardo dying; ſhe became the Wife of Pagamino.
The tenth Nouell.
Wherein olde men are wittily reprehended, that will match themſelues with younger women, then is fit for their yeares and inſufficiencie; neuer conſidering, what afterward may happen to them.
EVery one in this honeſt and gracious aſſembly, moſt highly commended
the Nouell recounted by the Queene: but eſpecially Dioneus,
who remained, to finiſh that dayes pleaſure with his owne diſcourſe; and
after many praiſes of the former tale were paſt, thus he began. Faire Ladies,
part of the Queenes Nouell, hath made an alteration of my minde,
from that which I intended to proceede next withall, and therefore I will
report another. I cannot forget the vnmanly indiſcretion of Bernardo,
but much more the baſe arrogancie of Ambroginolo, how iuſtly deſerued
ſhame fell vpon him; as well it may happen to all other, that are ſo vile
in their owne opinions, as he apparantly approued himſelfe to be. For,
as men wander abroade in the world, according to their occaſions in diuerſity
of Countries, and obſeruation of the peoples behauiour: ſo are
their humours as variouſly tranſported. And if they finde women wantonly
diſpoſed abroade, the like iudgement they giue of their wiues at
home; as if they had neuer knowne their birth and breeding, or made
proofe of their loyall carriage towards them. Wherefore, the Tale that
I purpoſe to relate, will likewiſe condemne all the like kinde of men; but
more eſpecially ſuch, as ſuppoſe themſelues to be endued with more
ſtrength, then Nature euer meant to beſtow vpon them, fooliſhly beleeuing,
that they can couer and ſatisfie their owne defects, by fabulous demonſtrations;
and thinking to faſhion other of their owne complexions,
that are meerely ſtrangers to ſuch groſſe follies.
Let me tell you then, that there liued in Piſa (about ſome hundred yeeres
before Tuſcanie & Liguria came to embrace the Chriſtian Faith) a Iudge
better ſtored with wiſdome and ingenuity, then corporall abilities of the
body,
•
e being named Signior Ricciardo di Cinzica. He being more then
halfe perſwaded, that he could content a woman with ſuch ſatisfaction as
he daily beſtowed on his ſtudies, being a widdower, and extraordinarily
wealthy; laboured (with no meane paines and endeauour) to enioy a faire
and youthfull wife in marriage: both which qualities he ſhould much rather
haue auoyded, if he could haue miniſtred as good counſell to him, as
he did to others, reſorting to him for aduice.
Vpon this his amorous and diligent inquiſition, it came ſo to paſſe,
that a worthy Gentleman, called Bertolomea, one of the very faireſt and
choyſeſt young Maides in Piſa, whoſe youth did hardly agree with his
age; but mucke was the motiue of this mariage, and no expectation of
mutuall contentment. The Iudge being maried, and the Bride brought
ſolemnly home to his houſe, we need make no queſtion of braue cheare
& banqueting, wel furniſhed by their friends on either ſide: other matters
were now hammering in the Iudges head, for though he could pleaſe all
his Clyents with counſell; yet now ſuch a ſute was commenced againſt
himſelf, and in Beauties Court of continual requeſts, that the Iudge failing
in plea for his owne defence, was often non-ſuited by lacke of anſwer; yet
he wanted neither good wines, drugges, and all reſtauratiues, to comfort
the heart, and encreaſe good blood; but all auayled not in this caſe.
But well fare a good courage, where performance faileth, he could liberally
commend his paſſed iouiall dayes, and make a promiſe of as faire felicities
yet to come; becauſe his youth would renew it ſelfe, like to the
Eagle, and his vigour in as full force as before. But beſide all theſe idle allegations,
he would needs inſtruct his wife in an Almanack or Calender,
which (long before) he had bought at Rauenna, and wherein he plainely
ſhewed her, that there was not any one day in the yeere, but it was dedicated
to ſome Saint or other. In reuerence of whom, and for their ſakes,
he approued by diuers arguments & reaſons, that a man & his wife ought
to abſtaine from bedding together. Hereto he added, that thoſe Saints
dayes had their faſts & feaſts, beſide the foure ſeaſons of the yeere, the vigils
of the Apoſtles, and a thouſand other holy dayes, with Fridayes, Saturdayes,
& Sundayes, in honor of our Lords reſt, and all the ſacred time
of Lent; as alſo certaine obſeruations of the Moone, & infinite other exceptions
beſide; thinking perhaps, that it was as conuenient for men to
refraine from their wiues conuerſation, as he did often times from ſitting
in the Court. Theſe were his daily documents to his young wife, wherewith
with (poore ſoule) ſhe became ſo tired, as nothing could be more irkſome
to her; and very careful ſhe was, leſt any other ſhold teach her what belō
ged
to working daies, becauſe he wold haue herknow none but holidaies.
Afterwa
•
d it came to paſſe, that the ſeaſon waxing extremely hot, Signior
Ricciardo would goe recreate himſelfe at his houſe in the Countrey,
neere vnto the black Mountaine, where for his faire wiues more contentment,
he continued diuers dayes together. And for her further recreation,
he gaue order, to haue a day of fiſhing, he going aboard a ſmall Pinnace
among the Fiſhers, and ſhee was in another, conſorted with diuers
other Gentlewomen, in whoſe company ſhee ſhewed her ſelfe very well
pleaſed. Delight made them launch further into the Sea, then either the
Iudge was willing they ſhould haue done, or agreed with reſpect of their
owne ſafety. For ſuddenly a Galliot came vpon them, wherein was one
Pagamino, a Pyrate very famous in thoſe dayes, who eſpying the two Pinnaces,
made out preſently to them, and ſeized on that wherein the women
were. When he beheld there ſo faire a young woman, he coueted
after no other purchaſe; but mounting her into his Galliot, in the ſight of
Signior Ricciardo, who (by this time) was fearefully landed, he caried her away
with him. When Signior Iudge had ſeene this theft (he being ſo iealous
of his wife, as ſcarcely he would let the ayre breathe on her) it were a
needleſſe demand, to know whether he was offended, or no. He made
complaint at Piſa, and in many other places beſide, what iniury he had
ſuſtained by thoſe Pryrates, in carying his wife thus away from him: but all
was in vaine, he neither (as yet) knew the man, nor whether he had conueyed
her from him. Pagamino perceiuing what a beautifull woman ſhe was,
made the more precious eſteeme of his purchaſe, and being himſelfe a bachelar,
intended to keepe her as his owne; comforting her with kind and
pleaſing ſpeeches, not vſing any harſh or vnciuill demeanor to her, becauſe
ſhee wept and lamented grieuouſly. But when night came, her huſbands
Calendar falling from her girdle, and all the faſts & feaſts quite out
of her remembrance; ſhe receiued ſuch curteous conſolations from Pagamino,
that before they could arriue at Monaco, the Iudge & his Law caſes,
were almoſt out of her memory, ſuch was his affable behauiour to her, and
ſhe began to conuerſe with him in more friendly manner, and he entreating
her as honourably, as if ſhee had beene his eſpouſed wife.
Within a ſhort while after, report had acquainted Ricciardo the Iudge,
where, & how his wife was kept from him; whereupon he determined, not
to ſend any one, but rather to go himſelfe in perſon, & to redeem her from
the Pyrate, with what ſums of mony he ſhould demand. By Sea he paſſed
to Monaco, where he ſaw his wife, and ſhee him, as (ſoone after) ſhee made
known to Pagamino. On the morrow following, Signior Ricciardo meeting
with Pagamino, made means to be acquainted with him, & within leſſe thē
an houres ſpace, they grew into familiar & priuate conference: Pagamino
yet pretending not to know him, but expected what iſſue this talke would
ſort to. When time ſerued, the Iudge diſcourſed the occaſion of his comming
thither, deſiring him to demand what ranſome he pleaſed, & that he
might haue his wife home with him; whereto Pagamino thus anſwered.
My Lord Iudge, you are welcome hither, and to anſwer you breefely
very true it is, that I haue a yong Gentlewoman in my houſe, whome I
neither know to be your wife, or any other mans elſe whatſoeuer: for I
am ignorant both of you and her, albeit ſhe hath remained a while here
with me. If you bee her husband, as you ſeeme to auouch, I will bring
her to you, for you appeare to be a worthy Gentleman, and (queſtionles)
ſhe cannot chuſe but know you perfectly. If ſhe do confirme that which
you haue ſaid, and be willing to depart hence with you: I ſhall reſt well
ſatisfied, and will haue no other recompence for her ranſome (in regard
of your graue and reuerent yeares) but what your ſelfe ſhall pleaſe to giue
me. But if it fall out otherwiſe, and proue not to be as you haue affirmed:
you ſhall offer me great wrong, in ſeeking to get her from me; becauſe I
am a young man, and can as well maintaine ſo faire a wife, as you, or any
man elſe that I know. Beleeue it certainly, replied the Iudge, that ſhe is
my wife, and if you pleaſe to bring me where ſhe is, you ſhall ſoone perceiue
it: for, ſhe will preſently caſt her armes about my neck, and I durſt
aduenture the vtter loſſe of her, if ſhee denie to doe it in your preſence.
Come on then, ſaid Pagamino, and let vs delay the time no longer.
When they were entred into Pagaminoes houſe, and ſate downe in the
Hall, he cauſed her to be called, and ſhee, being readily prepared for the
purpoſe, came forth of her Chamber before them both, where friendly
they ſate conuerſing together; neuer vttering any one word to Signior
Ricciardo, or knowing him from any other ſtranger, that Pagamino might
bring in to the houſe with him. Which when my Lord the Iudge beheld,
(who expected to finde a farre more gracious welcome) he ſtoode
as a man amazed, ſaying to himſelfe. Perhaps the extraordinary griefe
and mellancholly, ſuffered by me ſince the time of her loſſe; hath ſo altred
my wonted complexion, that ſhee is not able to take knowledge of me.
Wherefore, going neerer to her, hee ſaid. Faire Loue, dearely haue I
bought your going on fiſhing, becauſe neuer man felt the like afflictions,
as I haue done ſince the day when I loſt you: but by this your vnciuill ſilence,
you ſeeme as if you did not know me. Why deareſt Loue, ſeeſt thou
not that I am thy husband Ricciardo, who am come to pay what ranſome
this Gentleman ſhall demaund, euen in the houſe where now we are: ſo
to conuay thee home againe, vpon his kinde promiſe of thy deliuerance,
after the payment of thy ranſome?
Bertolomea turning towards him, and ſeeming as if ſhee ſmiled to her
ſelfe, thus anſwered. Sir, ſpeake you to me? Aduiſe your ſelfe well, leaſt
you miſtake me for ſome other, becauſe, concerning my ſelfe, I doe not
remember, that euer I did ſee you till now. How now quoth Ricciardo?
conſider better what you ſay, looke more circumſpectly on me, and then
you will remember, that I am your louing husband, and my name is Ricciardo
di Cinzica. You muſt pardon me Sir, replied Bertolomea, I know it
not ſo fitting for a modeſt woman (though you (perhaps) are ſo perſwaded)
to ſtand gazing in the faces of men: and let mee looke vpon you neuer
ſo often, certaine I am, that (till this inſtant) I haue not ſeene you.
My Lord Iudge cōceiued in his mind, that thus ſhe denied all knowledg
of him, as ſtanding in feare of Pagamino, and would not confeſſe him in
his preſence. Wherefore hee entreated of Pagamino, to affoord him ſo
much fauour, that he might ſpeake alone with her in her Chamber. Pagamino
anſwered, that he was well contented therewith, prouided, that he
ſhould not kiſſe her againſt her will. Then he requeſted Bartolomea, to goe
with him alone into her Chamber, there to heare what he could ſay, and
to anſwere him as ſhee found occaſion. When they were come into the
Chamber, and none there preſent but he and ſhee, Signior Ricciardo began
in this manner. Heart of my heart, life of my life, the ſweeteſt hope
that I haue in this world; wilt thou not know thine owne Ricciardo, who
loueth thee more then he doth himſelfe? Why art thou ſo ſtrange? Am I
ſo disfigured, that thou knoweſt me not? Behold me with a more pleaſing
eye, I pray thee.
Bertolomea ſmiled to her ſelfe, and without ſuffering him to proceed any
further in ſpeech, returned him this anſwere. I would haue you to vnderſtand
Sir, that my memory is not ſo obliuious, but I know you to be Signior
Ricciardo di Cinzica, and my husband, by name or title; but during the
time that I was with you, it very ill appeared that you had any knowledge
of me. For if you had been ſo wiſe and conſiderate, as (in your own iudgement)
the world reputed you to be, you could not be voide of ſo much
apprehenſion, but did apparantly perceiue, that I was young, freſh, and
cheerefully diſpoſed; and ſo (by conſequent) meet to know matters requiſite
for ſuch young women, beſide allowance of food & garments, though
baſhfulneſſe & modeſty forbid to vtter it. But if ſtudying the Lawes were
more welcome to you then a wife, you ought not to haue maried, & you
looſe the worthy reputation of a Iudge, when you fall from that venerable
profeſſion, and make your ſelfe a common proclaimer of feaſts and faſting
dayes, lenten ſeaſons, vigils, & ſolemnities due to Saints, which prohibite
the houſhold conuerſation of husbands and wiues.
Here am I now with a worthy Gentleman, that entertained mee with
very honourable reſpect, and here I liue in this chamber, not ſo much as
hearing of any feaſts or faſting daies; for, neither Fridaies, Saturdaies, vigils
of Saints, or any lingering Lents, enter at this doore: but here is honeſt
and ciuill conuerſation, better agreeing with a youthfull diſpoſition,
then thoſe harſh documents wherewith you tutord me. Wherefore my
purpoſe is to continue here with him, as being a place ſutable to my mind
& youth, referring feaſts, vigils, & faſting dayes, to a more mature & ſtayed
time of age, when the body is better able to endure them, & the mind
may be prepared for ſuch ghoſtly meditations: depart therefore at your
owne pleaſure, and make much of your Calender, without enioying any
company of mine, for you heare my reſolued determination.
The Iudge hearing theſe words, was ouercome with exceeding griefe,
& when ſhe was ſilent, thus he began. Alas deare Loue, what an anſwer
is this? Haſt thou no regard of thine owne honor, thy Parents, & friends?
Canſt thou rather affect to abide here, for the pleaſures of this man, and
ſo ſin capitally, then to liue at Piſa in the ſtate of my wife? Conſider deare
heart, when this man ſhall waxe weary of thee, to thy ſhame & his owne
diſgrace, he will reiect thee. I muſt and ſhall loue thee for euer, and when
I dye, I leaue thee Lady and commandreſſe of all that is mine. Can an
inordinate appetite, cauſe thee to be careleſſe of thine honour, and of
him that loues thee as his owne life? Alas, my faireſt hope, ſay no more
ſo, but returne home with me, and now that I am acquainted with thy inclination;
I will endeauour heereafter to giue thee better contentment.
Wherefore (deare heart) doe not denie me, but change thy minde, and
goe with me, for I neuer ſaw merry day ſince I loſt thee.
Sir (quoth ſhe) I deſire no body to haue care of mine honor, beſide my
ſelfe, becauſe it cannot be here abuſed. And as for my parents, what reſpect
had they of me, when they made me your wife: If then they could
be ſo careleſſe of mee, what reaſon haue I to regard them now? And
whereas you taxe me, that I cannot liue here without capitall ſin; farre is
the thought thereof from me, for, here I am regarded as the wife of Pagamino,
but at Piſa, you reputed me not worthy your ſociety: becauſe, by
the point of the Moone, and the quadratures of Geomatrie; the Planets
held coniunction betweene you and me, whereas here I am ſubiect to no
ſuch conſtellations. You ſay beſide, that hereafter you will ſtriue to giue
me better contentment then you haue done; ſurely, in mine opinion it is
no way poſſible, becauſe our complexions are ſo farre different, as Ice is
from fire, or gold from droſſe. As for your allegation, of this Gentlemans
reiecting me, when his humour is ſatisfied; ſhould if it proue to be
ſo (as it is the leaſt part of my feare) what fortune ſoeuer ſhall betide me,
neuer will I make any meanes to you, what miſeries or miſaduentures
may happen to me; but the world will affoord me one reſting place or other,
and more to my contentment, then if I were with you. Therefore
I tell you once againe, to liue ſecured from all offence to holy Saints, and
not to iniury their feaſts, faſts, vigills, and other ceremonious ſeaſons:
here is my demourance, and from hence I purpoſe not to part.
Our Iudge was now in a wofull perplexity, and confeſſing his folly, in
marying a wife ſo yong, and far vnfit for his age and abilitie: being halfe
deſperate, ſad and diſpleaſed, he came forth of the Chamber, vſing diuers
ſpeeches to Pagamino, whereof he made little or no account at all, and in
the end, without any other ſucceſſe, left his wife there, & returned home
to Piſa. There, further afflictions fell vpon him, becauſe the people began
to ſcorne him, demanding dayly of him, what was become of his gallant
young wife, making homes, with ridiculous pointings at him: whereby his
ſences became diſtracted, ſo that he ran rauing about the ſtreetes, and afterward
died in very miſerable manner. Which newes came no ſooner
to the eare of Pagamino, but, in the honourable affection hee bare to Bertolomea,
he maried her, with great ſolemnity; baniſhing all Faſts, Vigils,
and Lents from his houſe, and liuing with her in much felicity. Wherefore
(faire Ladies) I am of opinion, that Bernardo of Geneway, in his diſputation
with Ambroginolo, might haue ſhewne himſelfe a great deale wiſer,
and ſpared his raſh proceeding with his wife.
This tale was ſo merrily entertained among the whole company, that
each one ſmiling vpon another, with one conſent commended Dioneus,
maintaining that he ſpake nothing but the truth, & condemning Bernardo
for his cruelty. Vpon a generall ſilence commanded, the Queene perceiuing
that the time was now very farre ſpent, and euery one had deliuered
their ſeuerall Nouels, which likewiſe gaue a period to her Royalty: ſhee
gaue the Crowne to Madam Neiphila, pleaſantly ſpeaking to her in this
order. Heereafter, the gouernment of theſe few people is committed to
your truſt and care, for with the day concludeth my dominion. Madam
Neiphila, bluſhing at the honor done vnto her, her cheekes appeared of a
vermillion tincture, her eyes glittering with gracefull deſires, and ſparkeling
like the morning Starre. And after the modeſt murmure of the Aſſiſtants
was ceaſed, and her courage in chearfull manner ſetled, ſeating her
ſelfe higher then ſhe did before, thus ſhe ſpake.
Seeing it is ſo, that you haue elected me your Queene, to varie ſomewhat
from the courſe obſerued by them that went before me, whoſe gouernment
you haue all ſo much commended: by approbation of your
counſell, I am deſirous to ſpeake my mind, concerning what I wold haue
to be next followed. It is not vnknown to you all, that to morrow ſhal be
Friday, and Saturday the next day following, which are daies ſomewhat
moleſtuous to the moſt part of men, for preparation of their weekly food
& ſuſtenance. Moreouer, Friday ought to be reuerendly reſpected, in remembrance
of him, who died to giue vs life, and endured his bitter paſſion,
as on that day; which makes me to hold it fit and expedient, that wee
ſhould mind more weighty matters, and rather attend our prayers & deuotions,
then the repetition of tales or Nouels. Now concerning Saturday,
it hath bin a cuſtom obſerued among women, to bath & waſh themſelues
from ſuch immundicities as the former weekes to ile hath impoſed
on thē. Beſide, it is a day of faſting, in honor of the enſuing Sabath, wheron
no labor may be done, but the obſeruation of holy exerciſes.
By that which hath bin ſaide, you may eaſily conceiue, that the courſe
which we haue hitherto continued, cannot bee proſecuted, in one and
the ſame manner: wherfore, I would aduice and do hold it an action wel
performed by vs, to ceaſe for theſe few dayes, from recounting any other
Nouels. And becauſe we haue remained here foure daies already, except
we would allow the enlarging of our company, with ſome other friends
that may reſort vnto vs: I think it neceſſary to remoue from hence, & take
our pleaſure in another place, which is already by me determined. When
we ſhalbe there aſſembled, and haue ſlept on the diſcourſes formerly deliuered,
let our next argument be ſtil the mutabilities of Fortune, but eſpecially
to concerne ſuch perſons, as by their wit and ingenuity, induſtriouſly
haue attained to ſome matter earneſtly deſired, or elſe recouered againe,
after the loſſe. Heereon let vs ſeuerally ſtudy and premeditate, that
the hearers may receiue benefit thereby, with the comfortable maintenance
of our harmleſſe recreations; the priuiledge of Dioneus alwayes reſerued
to himſelfe.
Euery one cōmended the Queens deliberation, concluding that it ſhold
be accordingly proſecuted: and therupon, the maſter of the houſhold was
called, to giue him order for that euenings Table ſeruice, and what elſe
concerned the time of the Queenes Royalty, wherein he was ſufficiently
inſtructed: which being done, the company aroſe, licenſing euery one to
doe what they liſted. The Ladies and Gentlemen walked to the Garden,
and hauing ſported themſelues there a while; when the houre of ſupper
came, they ſate downe, and fared very daintily. Being riſen from the Table,
according to the Queenes command, Madam Aemilia led the dance,
and the ditty following, was ſung by Madam Pampinea, being anſwered
by all the reſt, as a Chorus.
The Song.
And if not I, what Lady elſe can ſing,
Of thoſe delights, which kind contentment bring?
Come, come, ſweet Loue, the cauſe of my chiefe good,
Of all my hopes, the firme and full effect;
Sing we together, but in no ſad moode,
Of ſighes or teares, which ioy doth counterchecke:
Stolne pleaſures are delightfull in the taſte,
But yet Loues fire is often times too fierce;
Conſuming comfort with ore-ſpeedy haſte,
Which into gentle hearts too far doth pierce.
And if not I, &c.
The first day that I felt this fiery heate,
So ſweete a paſsion did poſſeſſe my ſoule,
That though I found the torment ſharpe, and great;
Yet ſtill me thought t' was but a ſweete controule.
Nor could I count it rude, or rigorous,
Taking my wound from ſuch a piercing eye:
As made the paine moſt pleaſing, gracious,
That I deſire in ſuch aſſaults to die.
And if not I, &c.
Grant then great God of Loue, that I may ſtill
Enioy the benefit of my deſire;
And honour her with all my deepeſt skill,
That firſt enflamde my heart with holy fire.
To her my bondage is free liberty,
My ſickneſſe health, my tortures ſweet repoſe;
Say ſhee the word, in full felicity,
All my extreames ioyne in an happy cloſe.
Then if not I, what Louer elſe can ſing,
Of thoſe delights which kind contentment bring.
After this Song was ended, they ſung diuers other beſide, and hauing
great variety of inſtruments, they parted to them as many pleaſing dances.
But the Queene conſidering that the meete houre for reſt was come,
with their lighted Torches before them they all repaired to their Chambers;
ſparing the other dayes next ſucceeding, for thoſe reaſons by the
Queene alleaged, and ſpending the Sunday in ſolemne deuotion.
The ende of the ſecond Day.
The Third Day.
Vpon which Day, all matters to be diſcourſed on, doe paſſe vnder the regiment of Madam Neiphila: concerning ſuch perſons as (by their wit and industry) haue attained to their long wiſhed deſires, or recouered ſomething, ſuppoſed to be loſt.
The Induction to the enſuing Diſcourſes.
THE morning put on a vermillion countenance,
and made the Sunne to riſe bluſhing red, when
the Queene (and all the faire company) were
come abroade forth of their Chambers; the Seneſhall
or great Maſter of the Houſhold, hauing
(long before) ſent all things neceſſary to the place
of their next intended meeting. And the people
which prepared there euery needfull matter,
ſuddainely when they ſaw the
Queen was ſetting forward, charged
all the reſt of their followers,
as if it had been preparation for a
Campe; to make haſt away with
the carriages, the reſt of the Familie
remaining behind, to attend vpon
the Ladies and Gentlemen.
With a milde, maieſticke, and
gentle peace, the Queen rode on,
being followed by the other Ladies,
and the three young Gentlemen,
taking their way towards the
Weſt; conducted by the muſicall
notes of ſweete ſinging Nightingales,
and infinite other pretty
Birds beſide, riding in a tract not
much frequented, but richly abounding
with faire hearbes and
floures, which by reaſon of the Sunnes high mounting, beganne to open
their boſome, and fill the freſh Ayre with their odorifferous perfumes.
Before they had trauelled two ſmall miles diſtance, all of them pleaſantly
conuerſing together; they arriued at another goodly Palace, which being
ſomewhat mounted aboue the plaine, was ſeated on the ſide of a little riſing
hill.
When they were entred there into, and had ſeene the great Hall, the
Parlors, and beautifull Chambers, euery one ſtupendiouſly furniſhed,
with all conuenient commodities to them belonging, and nothing wanting,
that could be deſired; they highly commended it, reputing the Lord
thereof for a moſt worthy man, that had adorned it in ſuch Princely manner.
Afterward, being deſcended lower, and noting the moſt ſpacious
and pleaſant Court, the Sellars ſtored with the choyſeſt Wines, and delicate
Springs of water euery where running, their prayſes then exceeded
more and more. And being weary with beholding ſuch variety of pleaſures,
they ſate downe in a faire Gallery, which took the view of the whole
Court, it being round engirt with trees and floures, whereof the ſeaſon
then yeelded great plenty. And then came the diſcreete Maſter of the
Houſhold, with diuers ſeruants attending on him, preſenting with Comfits,
and other Banquetting, as alſo very ſingular Wines, to ſerue in ſted
of a breakefaſt.
Hauing thus repoſed themſelues a while, a Garden gate was ſet open
to them, coaſting on one ſide of the Pallace, and round incloſed with
high mounted walles. Whereinto when they were entred, they found it
to be a moſt beautiful Garden, ſtored with all varieties that poſſibly could
be deuiſed; and therefore they obſerued it the more reſpectiuley. The
walkes and allyes were long and ſpacious, yet directly ſtraite as an arrow,
enuironed with ſpreading vines, wheron the grapes hung in copious cluſters;
which being come to their ful ripeneſſe, gaue ſo rare a ſmel throughout
the Garden, with other ſweete ſauours intermixed among, that they
ſuppoſed to feele the freſh ſpiceries of the Eaſt.
It would require large length of time, to deſcribe all the rarities of this
place, deſeruing much more to be commended, then my beſt faculties
will affoord me. In the middeſt of the Garden, was a ſquare plot, after
the reſemblance of a Meadow, flouriſhing with high graſſe, hearbes, and
plants, beſide a thouſand diuerſities of floures, euen as if by the art of
painting they had beene there deputed. Round was it circkled with very
verdant Orenge and Cedar Trees, their branches plentiouſly ſtored with
fruite both old and new, as alſo the floures growing freſhly among them,
yeelding not onely a rare aſpect to the eye, but alſo a delicate ſauour to
the ſmell.
In the middeſt of this Meadow, ſtood a Fountaine of white Marble,
whereon was engrauen moſt admirable workemanſhip, and within it (I
know not whether it were by a naturall veine, or artificiall) flowing from
a figure, ſtanding on a Collomne in the midſt of the Fountaine, ſuch aboundance
of water, and ſo mounting vp towards the Skies, that it was a
wonder to behold. For after the high aſcent, it fell downe againe into the
wombe of the Fountaine, with ſuch a noyſe and pleaſing murmur, as the
ſtreame that glideth from a mill. When the receptacle of the Fountaine
did ouerflow the bounds, it ſtreamed along the Meadow, by ſecret paſſages
and chanels, very faire and artificially made, returning againe into euery
part of the Meadow, by the like wayes of cunning conueighance,
which allowed it ful courſe into the Garden, running ſwiftly thence down
towards the plaine; but before it came thether, the very ſwift current of
the ſtreame, did driue two goodly Milles, vvhich brought in great benefit
to the Lord of the ſoile.
The ſight of this Garden, the goodly grafts, plants, trees, hearbes, frutages,
and flowers, the Springs, Fountaines, and prety riuolets ſtreaming
from it, ſo highly pleaſed the Ladies and Gentlemen▪ that among other
infinite commendations, they ſpared not to ſay: if any Paradiſe remayned
on the earth to be ſeene, it could not poſſibly bee in any other place,
but onely was contained within the compaſſe of this Garden. With no
meane pleaſure and delight they vvalked round about it, making Chaplets
of flowers, and other faire branches of the trees, continually hearing
the Birds in mellodious notes, ecchoing and warbling one to another, euen
as if they enuied each others felicities.
But yet another beauty (which before had not preſented it ſelfe vnto
them) on a ſodaine they perceyued; namely diuers prety creatures in many
parts of the Gardens. In one place Conies tripping about; in another
place Hares; in a third part Goats browſing on the hearbes, & little yong
Hindes feeding euery where: yet vvithout ſtrife or vvarring together, but
rather liuing in ſuch a Domeſticke and pleaſing kinde of company, euen
as if they vvere appoynted to enſtruct the moſt noble of all creatures, to
imitate their ſociable conuerſation.
When their ſenſes had ſufficiently banquetted on theſe ſeuerall beauties,
the tables were ſodainly prepared about the Fountaine, where firſt
they ſung ſixe Canzonets; and hauing paced two or three dances, they
ſate downe to dinner, according as the Queene ordained, being ſerued in
very ſumptuous manner, with all kinde of coſtly and delicate viands, yet
not any babling noiſe among them. The Tables being withdrawne, they
played againe vpon their inſtruments, ſinging and dancing gracefully together:
till, in regard of the extreame heate, the Queene commanded to
giue ouer, and permitted ſuch as were ſo pleaſed, to take their eaſe and
reſt. But ſome, as not ſatisfied with the places pleaſures, gaue themſelues
to walking: others fell to reading the liues of the Romanes; ſome to the
Cheſſe, and the reſt to other recreations.
But, after the dayes warmth was more mildely qualified, and euerie
one had made benefit of their beſt content: they went (by order ſent frō
the Queene) into the Meadow where the Fountaine ſtood, and being ſet
about it, as they vſed to do in telling their Tales (the argument appointed
by the Queene being propounded) the firſt that had the charge impoſed,
was Philostratus, who began in this manner.
Maſſetto di Lamporechio, by counterfetting himſelfe to be dumbe, became a Gardiner in a Monastery of Nunnes, where he had familiar conuerſation with them all.
The firſt Nouell.
Wherein is declared, that virginity is very hardly to be kept, in all places.
MOſt woorthy Ladies, there
wantes no ſtore of men and
women, that are ſo ſimple, as to
credit for a certainty, that ſo ſoon
as a yong virgin hath the veile pnt
on hir head (after it is once ſhorn
and filletted) & the blacke Cowle
giuen to couer her withall: ſhee is
no longer a woman, nor more ſenſible
of feminine affections, then
as if in turning Nun, ſhee became
conuerted to a ſtone. And if (perchance)
they heard ſome matters,
contrary to their former ſetled
perſwaſion; then they growe ſo
furiouſly offended, as if one had
committed a moſt foul and enormous
ſinne, directly againſt the
courſe of nature. And the torrent of this opinion hurries them on ſo violently,
that they will not admit the leaſt leiſure to conſider, how (in ſuch a
full ſcope of liberty, they haue power to do what they liſt, yea beyonde all
meanes of ſufficient ſatisfying; neuer ramembring withall, how potent
the priuiledge of idleneſſe is, eſpecially when it is backt by ſolitude.
In like manner, there are other people now, who do verily belieue, that
the Spade and Pickaxe, groſſe feeding and labour, do quench all ſenſuall
and fleſhly concupiſcences, yea, in ſuch as till and husband the grounds,
by making them dull, blockiſh, and (almoſt) meere ſenſleſſe of vnderſtanding.
But I will approue (according as the Queene hath commanded me,
and within the compaſſe of her direction) and make it apparant to you al,
by a ſhort and pleaſant Tale; how greatly they are abuſed by error, that
build vpon ſo weake a foundation.
Not far from Alexandria, there was (and yet is) a great & goodly Monaſtery,
belonging to the Lord of thoſe parts, who is termed the Admiral.
And therein, vnder the care and truſt of one woman, diuers virgins were
kept as recluſes or Nunnes, vowed to chaſtity of life; out of whoſe number,
the Soldan of Babylon (vnder whom they liued in ſubiection) at euery
three yeares end, had vſually three of theſe virgins ſent him. At the time
wherof I am now to ſpeak, there remained in the Monaſtery, no more but
eight religious Siſters only, beſide the Gouerneſſe or Lady Abbeſſe, and
an honeſt poore man, who was a Gardiner, and kept the garden in commendable
order.
His wages being ſmall, and he not well contented therewith, would
ſerue there no longer: but making his accounts euen, with the Factotum
or Bayliffe belonging to the houſe, returned thence to the village of Lamporechio,
being a nature of the place. Among many other that gaue him
welcom home, was a yong Hebrew pezant of the country, ſturdy, ſtrong,
and yet comely of perſon, being named Maſſet. But becauſe he was born
not farre off from Lamporechio, and had there bin brought vp all his yonger
dayes, his name of Maſſet (according to their vulgar ſpeech) was turned
to Maſſetto, and therefore he was vſually called and knowne, by the
name of Maſſetto of Lamporechio.
Maſſetto, falling in talke with the honeſt poore man, whoſe name was
Lurco, demanded of him what ſeruices hee had done in the Monaſterie,
hauing continued there ſo long a time? Quoth Lurco I laboured in the
Garden, which is very faire and great; then I went to the Foreſt to fetch
home wood, and cleft it for their Chamber fuell, drawing vppe all their
water beſide, with many other toileſom ſeruices elſe: but the allowance
of my wages was ſo little, as it would not pay for the ſhooes I wore. And
that which was worſt of all, they being all yong women, I thinke the deuill
dwels among them, for a man cannot doe any thing to pleaſe them.
When I haue bene buſie at my worke in the Garden, one would come &
ſay, Put this heere, put that there; and others would take the dibble out
of my hand, telling me, that I did not performe any thing well, making
me ſo weary of their continuall trifling, as I haue lefte all buſineſſe, gaue
ouer the Garden, and what for one molleſtation, as alſo many other; I
intended to tarry no longer there, but came away, as thou ſeeſt. And
yet the Factotum deſired me at my departing, that if I knew any one, who
would vndertake the aforeſaid labours, I ſhould ſend him thither, as (indeed)
I promiſed to do: but let mee fall ſicke and dye, before I helpe to
ſend them any.
When Maſſetto had heard the words of Lurco, hee was ſo deſirous to
dwell among the Nunnes, that nothing elſe now hammered in his head:
for he meant more ſubtilly, then poore Lurco did, and made no doubt,
to pleaſe them ſufficiently. Then conſidering with himſelfe, how beſt he
might bring his intent to effect; which appeared not eaſily to be done,
he could queſtion no further therein with Lurco, but onely demanded other
matters of him, and among them ſaid. Introth thou didſt well Lurco,
to come away from ſo tedious a dwelling; had he not need to be more
then a man that is to liue with ſuch women? It were better for him to
dwell among ſo many diuels, becauſe they vnderſtand not the tenth part
that womens wily wits can diue into.
After their conference was ended, Maſſetto began to beat his braines,
how he might compaſſe to dwell among them, & knowing that he could
well enough performe all the labours, whereof Lurco had made mention:
he cared not for any loſſe he ſhould ſuſtaine thereby: but onely ſtoode in
doubt of his entertainment, becauſe he was too yong and ſprightly. Hauing
pondered on many imaginations, he ſaide to himſelfe. The place is
farre enough diſtant hence, and none there can take knowledge of mee;
if I haue wit ſufficient, cleanely to make them beleeue that I am dumbe,
then (queſtionleſſe) I ſhall be receiued. And reſoluing to proſecute this
determination, he tooke a Spade on his ſhoulder, and without reuealing
to any body, whether he went, in the diſguiſe of a poore laboring countryman,
he trauelled to the Monaſtery.
When he was there arriued, he found the great gate open, and entering
in boldly, it was his good hap to eſpy the Fac-totum in the court, according
as Lurco had giuen deſcription of him. Making ſignes before
him, as if he were both dumbe and deafe; he manifeſted, that he craued
an Almes for Gods ſake, making ſhewes beſide, that if need required, he
could cleaue wood, or do any reaſonable kinde of ſeruice. The Fac-totum
gladly gaue him food, and afterward ſhewed him diuers knotty logs
of wood, which the weake ſtrength of Lurco had left vnclouen; but this
fellow being more actiue and luſty, quickly rent them all to pieces. Now
it ſo fell out, that the Fac-totum muſt needs go to the Forreſt, and tooke
Maſſetto along with him thither: where cauſing him to fell diuers Trees,
by ſignes he bad him to lade the two Aſſes therewith, which commonly
carried home all the wood, and ſo driue them to the Monaſterie before
him, which Maſſetto knew well enough how to do, and performed it very
effectually.
Many other ſeruile offices were there to bee done, which cauſed the
Fac-totum, to make vſe of his paines diuers other dayes beſide: in which
time, the Lady Abbeſſe chancing to ſee him, demanded of the Fac-totum
what he was? Madam (quoth hee) a poore labouring man, who is both
deafe and dumbe: hither he came to craue an almes the other day, which
in charity I could do no leſſe but giue him; for which hee hath done many
honeſt ſeruices about the houſe. It ſeemes beſide, that hee hath ſome
pretty skill in Gardening, ſo that if I can perſwade him to continue here,
I make no queſtion of his able ſeruices: for the old ſilly man is gone, and
we haue neede of ſuch a ſtout fellow, to do the buſineſſe belonging vnto
the Monaſtery, and one fitter for the turne, comes ſildome hither. Moreouer,
in regard of his double imperfections, the Siſters can ſuſtaine no
impeachment by him. Whereto the Abbeſſe anſwered, ſaying; By the
faith of my body, you ſpeake but the truth: vnderſtand then, if hee haue
any knowledge in Gardening, and whether hee will dwell heere, or no:
which compaſſe ſo kindly as you can. Let him haue a new paire of ſhoes,
fill his belly daily full of meate, flatter, and make much of him, for wee
ſhall finde him worke enough to do. All which, the Fac-totum promiſed
to fulfill ſufficiently.
Maſſetto, who was not farre off from them all this while, but ſeemed ſeriouſly
buſied, about ſweeping and making cleane the Court, hearde all
theſe ſpeeches; and being not a little ioyfull of them, ſaide to himſelfe. If
once I come to worke in your Garden, let the proofe yeelde praiſe of my
skill and knowledge. When the Fac-totum perceiued, that he knew perfectly
how to vndergo his buſineſſe, and had queſtioned him by ſignes,
concerning his willingneſſe to ſerue there ſtill, and receiued the like anſwer
alſo, of his dutifull readineſſe thereto; he gaue him order, to worke
in the Garden, becauſe the ſeaſon did now require it; and to leaue all other
affayres for the Monaſtery, attending now onely the Gardens preparation.
As Maſſetto was thus about his Garden emploiment, the Nunnes began
to reſort thither, and thinking the man to bee dumbe and deafe indeede,
were the more lauiſh of their language, mocking and flowting
him very immodeſtly, as being perſwaded, that he heard them not. And
the Lady Abbeſſe, thinking he might as well be an Eunuch, as depriued
both of hearing and ſpeaking, ſtood the leſſe in feare of the Siſters wal
•
s,
but referred them to their owne care and prouidence. On a day, Maſſetto
hauing laboured ſomewhat extraordinarily, lay downe to reſt himſelfe
awhile vnder the trees, and two delicate yong Nunnes, walking there to
take the aire, drew neere to the place where he diſſembled ſleeping; and
both of them obſeruing his comelineſſe of perſon, began to pity the pouerty
of his condition, but much more the miſery of his great defectes.
Then one of them, who had a little liuelier ſpirit then the other, thinking
Maſſetto to be faſt aſleepe, began in this manner.
Siſter (quoth ſhe) if I were faithfully aſſured of thy ſecrecie,Example, at leaſt excuſes formed to that intent, preuaileth much with ſuch kind of religious women. I would
tell thee a thing which I haue often thought on, and it may (perhaps) redound
to thy profit. Siſter, replyed the other Nun, ſpeake your minde
boldly, and beleeue it (on my Maiden-head) that I will neuer reueale it
to any creature liuing. Encoraged by this ſolemne anſwer, the firſt Nun
thus proſecuted her former purpoſe, ſaying. I know not Siſter, whether it
hath entred into thine vnderſtanding or no, how ſtrictly we are here kept
and attended, neuer any man daring to aduenture among vs, except our
good and honeſt Fac-totum, who is very aged; and this dumbe fellow,
maimed, and made imperfect by nature, and therefore not woorthy the
title of a man. Ah Siſter, it hath of tentimes bin told me, by Gentle-women
comming hither to viſite vs, that all other ſweetes in the world, are
meere mockeries, to the incomparable pleaſures of man and woman, of
which we are barred by our vnkind parents, binding vs to perpetuall chaſtity,
which they were neuer able to obſerue themſelues.
A Siſter of this houſe once told me, that before her turne came to be
ſent to the Soldane, ſhe fell in frailty, with a man that was both lame and
blinde, and diſcouering the ſame to her Ghoſtly Father in confeſſion; he
abſolued her of that ſinne; affirming, that ſhe had not tranſgreſſed with
a man, becauſe he wanted his rationall and vnderſtanding parts. Behold
Siſter, heere lyes a creature, almoſt formed in the ſelfe-ſame mold, dumb
and deafe, which are two the moſt rational and vnderſtanding parts that
do belong to any man, and therefore no Man, wanting them. If folly &
frailty ſhould be committed with him (as many times ſince hee came hither
it hath run in my minde) hee is by Nature, ſworne to ſuch ſecrecie,
that he cannot (if he would) be a blabbe thereof. Beſide, the Lavves and
conſtitutions of our Religion doth teach vs, that a ſinne ſo aſſuredly concealed,
is more then halfe abſolued.
Aue Maria Siſter (ſaid the other Nunne) what kinde of words are theſe
you vtter? Doe not you know, that wee haue promiſed our virginity to
God? Oh Siſter (anſwered the other) how many things are promiſed
to him euery day, and not one of a thouſand kept or performed? If wee
haue made him ſuch a promiſe, and ſome of our weaker witted Siſters do
performe it for vs, no doubt but he will accept it in part of payment. Yea
but Siſter, replied the ſecond Nunne againe, there is another danger lying
in our way: If wee proue to be with childe, how ſhall we doe then?
Siſter (quoth our couragious Wench) thou art afraid of a harme, before
it happen, if it come ſo to paſſe, let vs conſider on it then: thou art but a
Nouice in matters of ſuch moment, and wee are prouided of a thouſand
meanes, whereby to preuent conception. Or, if they ſhould faile, wee
are ſo ſurely fitted, that the world ſhall neuer know it: let it ſuffice, our
liues muſt not be (by any) ſo much as ſuſpected, our Monaſterie queſtioned,
or our Religion raſhly ſcandalized. Thus ſhee ſchooled her younger
Siſter in wit, albeit as forward as ſhe in will, and longed as deſirouſly,
to know what kinde a creature a man was.
After ſome other queſtions, how this intention of theirs might be
ſafely brought to full effect: the ſprightly Nunne, that had wit at will,
thus anſwered. You ſee Siſter (quoth ſhe) it is now the houre of midday,
when all the reſt of our Siſterhood are quiet in their Chambers, becauſe
we are then allowed to ſleepe, for our earlier riſing to morning Mattins.
Here are none in the Garden now but our ſelues, and, while I awake him,
be you the watch, and afterward follow me in my fortune, for I will valiantly
leade you the way. Maſſetto imitating a dogges ſleepe, hea
•
d all
this conſpiracie intended againſt him, and longed as earneſtly, till ſhee
came to awake him. Which being done, he ſeeming very ſimply ſottiſh,
and ſhe chearing him with flattering behauiour: into the cloſe Arbour
they went, which the Sunnes bright eye could not pierce into, and there
I leaue it to the Nunnes owne approbation, whether Maſſetto was a man
rationall, or no. Ill deedes require longer time to contriue, then act, and
both the Nunnes, hauing beene with Maſſetto at this new forme of confeſſion,
were enioyned (by him) an eaſie and ſilent penance, as brought
them the oftner to ſhrift, and made him to prooue a perfect Confeſſour.
Deſires obtained, but not fully ſatisfied, doe commonly vrge more
frequent acceſſe, then wiſdome thinkes expedient, or can continue without
diſcouerie. Our two Iouiall Nunnes, not a little proud of their priuate
ſtolne pleaſures, ſo long reſorted to the cloſe Arbour; till an other
Siſter, who had often obſerued their haunt thither, by meanes of a little
hole in her window; that ſhee began to ſuſpect them with Maſſetto, and
imparted the ſame to two other Siſters, all three concluding, to accuſe
them before the Lady Abbeſſe. But vpon a further conference had with
the offenders, they changed opinion, tooke the ſame oath as the fore-woman
had done, and becauſe they would be free from any taxation at
all: they reuealed their aduentures to the other three ignorants, and ſo
fell all eight into one formall confederacie, but by good and warie obſeruation,
leaſt the Abbeſſe her ſelfe ſhould deſcry them; finding poore
Maſſetto ſuch plenty of Garden-worke, as made him very doubtfull in
pleaſing them all.
It came to paſſe in the end, that the Lady Abbeſſe, who all this while
imagined no ſuch matter, walking all alone in the Garden on a day, found
Maſſetto ſleeping vnder an Almond tree, hauing then very little buſineſſe
to doe, becauſe he had wrought hard all the night before. Shee obſerued
him to be an hanſome man, young, luſty, well limbde, and proportioned,
hauing a mercifull commiſſeration of his dumbneſſe and deafeneſſe,
being perſwaded alſo in like manner, that if he were an Eunuch too, he
deſerued a thouſand times the more to be pittied. The ſeaſon was exceeding
hot, and he lay downe ſo careleſly to ſleepe, that ſomething was noted,
wherein ſhee intended to be better reſolued, almoſt falling ſicke of
the other Nunnes diſeaſe. Hauing awaked him, ſhe commanded him (by
ſignes) that he ſhould follow her to her chamber, where he was kep
•
cloſe
ſo long, that the Nunnes grew offended, becauſe the Gardener came not
to his dayly labour.
Well may you imagine that Maſſetto was no miſſe-proud man now,
to be thus aduanced from the Garden to the Chamber, and by no worſe
woman, then the Lady Abbeſſe her ſelfe, what ſignes, ſhewes, or what language
he ſpeaks there, I am not able to expreſſe; onely it appeard that his
behauiour pleaſed her ſo well, as it procured his daily repairing thither;
and acquainted her with ſuch familiar conuerſation, as ſhee would haue
condemned in the Nuns her daughters, but that they were wiſe enough
to keepe it from her. Now began Maſſetto to conſider with himſelfe, that
he had vndertaken a taske belonging to great Hercules, in giuing content
ment to ſo many, and by continuing dumbe in this manner, it would redound
to his no meane detriment. Whereupon, as hee was one night
ſitting by the Abbeſſe, the ſtring that reſtrained his tongue from ſpeech,
brake on a ſodaine, and thus he ſpake.
Madam, I haue often heard it ſaid, that one Cocke may doe ſeruice to
ten ſeuerall Hennes, but ten men can (very hardly) euen with all their beſt
endeauour, giue full ſatisfaction euery way to one woman; and yet I am
tied to content mine, which is farre beyond the compaſſe of my power to
doe. Already haue I performed ſo much Garden and Chamber-worke,
that I confeſſe my ſelfe ſtarke tired, and can trauaile no further; and therefore
let me entreate you to lyſence my departure hence, or finde ſome
meanes for my better eaſe. The Abbeſſe hearing him ſpeake, who had ſo
long ſerued there dumbe; being ſtricken into admiration, and accounting
it almoſt a miracle, ſaide. How commeth this to paſſe? I verily beleeued
thee to be dumbe. Madam (quoth Maſſetto) ſo I was indeed, but not by
Nature; onely I had a long lingering ſickneſſe, which bereft me of ſpeech,
and which I haue not onely recouered againe this night, but ſhall euer remaine
thankfull to you for it.
The Abbeſſe verily credited his anſwer, demanding what he meant, in
ſaying, that he did ſeruice to nine? Madam, quoth he, this were a dangerous
queſtion, and not eaſily anſwered before all the eight Siſters. Vpon
this reply, the Abbeſſe plainely perceiued, that not onely ſhee had fallen
into folly, but all the Nunnes likewiſe cried guilty too: wherefore being
a woman of ſound diſcretion, ſhe would not grant that Maſſetto ſhould
depart, but to keepe him ſtill about the Nunnes buſineſſe, becauſe the
Monaſtery ſhould not be ſcandalized by him. And the Fac-totum being
dead a little before, his ſtrange recouery of ſpeech reuealed, and ſome
things elſe more neerely concerning them: by generall conſent, & vvith
the good liking of Maſſetto, he was created the Fac-totum of the Monaſterie.
All the neighbouring people dwelling thereabout, who knew Maſetto
to be dumbe, by fetching home wood daily from the Forreſt, and diuers
employments in other places; were made to beleeue that by the Nunnes
deuoute prayers and diſcipline, as alſo the merits of the Saint, in whoſe
honour the Monaſtery was built and erected, Maſſetto had his long reſtrained
ſpeech reſtored, and was now become their ſole Fac-totum, hauing
power now to employ others in drudgeries, and eaſe himſelfe of all
ſuch labours. And albeit he make the Nunnes to be fruitfull, by encreaſing
ſome ſtore of yonger Siſters; yet all matters were ſo cloſe & cleanly
carried, as it was neuer talkt of, till after the death of the Ladie Abbeſſe,
when Maſſetto beganne to grow in good yeares, and deſired, to returne
home to his Natiue abiding, which (within a while after) was granted
him.
Thus Maſſetto, being rich and old, returned home like a wealthy Father,
taking no care for the nurſing of his children, but bequeathed them
to the place where they were bred and born, hauing (by his wit and ingenious
apprehenſion) made ſuch a benefit of his youthfull years, that now
he merrily tooke eaſe in his age.
A Querry of the Stable, belonging to Agilulffo; King of the Lombards, found the meanes of acceſſe to the Queenes bed, without any knowledge or conſent in her. This being ſecretly diſcouered by the King, and the party knowne, he gau him a marke, by ſhearing the haire of his head. Whereupon, he that was ſo ſhorne, ſheared likewiſe the heads of all his fellowes in the lodging, and ſo eſcaped the puniſhment intended towards him.
The ſecond Nouell.
Wherein is ſignified, the prouidence of a wiſe man, when he ſhall haue reaſon to vſe reuenge. And the cunning meanes of another, when hee compaſſeth meanes to defend himſelfe from perill.
WHen the Nouell of Philostratus was concluded, which made ſome
of the Ladies bluſh, and the reſt to ſmile: it pleaſed the Queene,
that Madam Pampinea ſhould follow next, to ſecond the other gone before;
when ſhe, ſmiling on the whole aſſembly, began thus. There are
ſome men ſo ſhallow of capacity, that they will (neuertheleſſe) make
ſhew of knowing and vnderſtanding ſuch things, as neither they are able
to doe, nor appertaine to them: whereby they will ſometimes reprehend
other mens errours, and ſuch faults as they haue vnwillingly committed,
thinking thereby to hide their owne ſhame, when they make it much
more apparant and manifeſt. For proofe whereof, faire company, in a
contrary kinde I will ſhew you the ſubtill cunning of one, who (perhaps)
might be reputed of leſſe reckoning then Maſſetto; and yet hee went beyond
a King, that thought himſelfe to be a much wiſer man.
Agilalffo, King of Lombardie,
according as his Predeceſſours
had done before him, made the
principall ſeate of his Kingdome,
in the Citie of Pauia, hauing embraced
in mariage, Tendelinga, the
late left widdow of Vetario, who
likewiſe had beene King of the
Lombards; a moſt beautifull, wiſe
and vertuous Lady, but made
vnfortunate by a miſchance. The
occurrences and eſtate of the
whole Realme, being in an honourable,
quiet and well ſetled
condition, by the diſcreete care
and prouidence of the King;
a Querrie appertaining to the
Queenes Stable of Horſe, being
a man but of meane and lowe
quality, though comely of perſon, and of equall ſtature to the King; became
immeaſurably amorous of the Queene. And becauſe his baſe and
ſeruile condition, had endued him with ſo much vnderſtanding, as to
know infallibly, that his affection was mounted, beyond the compaſſe of
conueniencie: wiſely hee concealed it to himſelfe, not acquainting any
one therewith, or daring ſo much, as to diſcouer it either by lookes, or
any other affectionate behauiour.
And although hee liued vtterly hopeleſſe, of euer attaining to his
hearts deſires; yet notwithſtanding, hee proudly gloried, that his loue
had ſoared ſo high a pitch, as to be enamoured of a Queene. And dayly,
as the fury of his flame encreaſed; ſo his cariage was farre aboue his fellowes
and companions, in the performing of all ſuch ſeruiceable duties,
as any way he imagined might content the Queene. Whereon enſued,
that whenſoeuer ſhee roade abroad to take the ayre, ſhee vſed oftner to
mount on the Horſe, which this Querrie brought when ſhee made her
choiſe, then any of the other that were led by his fellowes. And this did
he eſteeme as no meane happineſſe to him, to order the ſtirrope for her
mounting, and therefore gaue dayly his due attendance: ſo that, to touch
the Stirrop, but (much more) to put her foote into it, or touch any part
of her garments, he thought it the onely heauen on earth.
But, as we ſee it oftentimes come to paſſe, that by how much the lower
hope declineth, ſo much the higher loue aſcendeth; euen ſo fel it out
with this poore Querry; for, moſt irkeſome was it to him, to endure the
heauy waight of his continuall oppreſſions, not hauing any hope at all of
the very leaſt mitigation. And being vtterly vnable to relinquiſh his loue
diuers times he reſolued on ſome deſperate concluſion, which might yet
giue the world an euident teſtimony, that he dyed for the loue he bare to
the Queene. And vpon this determination, hee grounded the ſucceſſe
of his future fortune, to dye in compaſſing ſome part of his deſire, without
either ſpeaking to the Queene, or ſending any miſſiue of his loue; for
to ſpeake or write, were meerely in vaine, and drew on a worſer conſequence
then death, which he could beſtow on himſelfe more eaſily, and
when he liſted.
No other courſe now beleagers his braines, but onely for ſecret acceſſe
to the Queenes bed, and how he might get entrance into her Chamber,
vnder colour of the King, who (as he knew very well) ſlept manie nights
together from the Queene. Wherefore, to ſee in what manner, & what
the vſuall habit was of the King, when he came to keepe companie vvith
his Queene: he hid himſelfe diuers nights in a Gallery, which was betweene
both their lodging Chambers. At length, he ſaw the King come
forth of his Chamber, himſelfe all alone, with a faire night-mantle wrapt
about him, carrying a lighted Taper in the one hand, and a ſmall white
Wand in the other, ſo went he on to the Queenes lodging; and knocking
at the doore once or twice with the wand, and not vſing any word, the
doore opened, the light was left without, and he entered the Chamber,
where he ſtayed not long, before his returning backe againe, which likewiſe
very diligently he obſerued.
So familiar was he in the Wardrobe, by often fetching and returning
the King and Queenes furnitures; that the fellowe to the ſame Mantle,
which the King wore when he went to the Queene, very ſecretly he conueighed
away thence with him, being prouided of a Light, and the verie
like Wand. Now beſtowes he coſtly bathings on his body, that the leaſt
ſent of the Stable might not be felt about him; and finding a time ſutable
to his deſire, when he knew the King to be at reſt in his owne Lodging,
and all elſe ſleeping in their beds; cloſely he ſteals into the Gallery, where
alighting his Taper, with Tinder purpoſely brought thither, the Mantle
folded about him, and the Wand in his hand, valiantly he aduentures vpon
his liues perill. Twice hee knockt ſoftly at the doore, which a wayting
woman immediately opened, and receyuing the Light, went forth
into the Gallery, while the ſuppoſed King, was conuerſing vvith the
Queene.
Alas good Queene, heere is ſinne committed, without any guiltie
thought in thee, as (within a while after) it plainely appeared. For, the
Querry hauing compaſſed what he moſt couered, and fearing to forfeite
his life by delay, when his amorous deſire was indifferently ſatisfied: returned
backe as he came, the ſleepy waiting woman not ſo much as looking
on him, but rather glad, that ſhe might get her to reſt againe. Scarcely
was the Querrie ſtept into his bed, vnheard or diſcerned by any of his
fellowes, diuers of them lodging both in that and the next Chamber: but
it pleaſed the King to viſite the Queene, according to his wonted manner,
to the no little meruaile of the drowſie wayting woman, who was neuer
twice troubled in a night before. The King being in bed, whereas alwayes
till then, his reſort to the Queene, was altogether in ſadneſſe and
melancholly, both comming and departing without ſpeaking one word:
now his Maieſtie was become more pleaſantly diſpoſed, whereat the
Queene began not a little to meruaile. Now truſt mee Sir, quoth ſhee,
this hath been a long wiſhed, and now moſt welcome alteration, vouch-ſafing
twice in a night to viſite me, and both within the compaſſe of one
houre; for it cannot be much more, ſince your being here, and now comming
againe.
The King hearing theſe words, ſodainly preſumed, that by ſome counterfeit
perſon or other, the Queene had been this night beguiled: wherefore
(very aduiſedly) hee conſidered, that in regard the party was vnknowne
to her, and all the women about her; to make no outward appearance
of knowing it, but rather concealed it to himſelfe. Farre from
the indiſcretion of ſome hare-braind men, who preſently would haue anſwered
and ſworne; I came not hither this night, till now. Whereupon
many dangers might enſue, to the diſhonor and preiudice of the Queene;
beſide, hir error being diſcouered to hir, might afterward be an occaſion,
to vrge a wandring in her appetite, and to couet after change againe. But
by this ſilence, no ſhame redounded to him or her, whereas prating, muſt
needes be the publiſher of open infamie: yet was hee much vexed in his
minde, which neither by lookes or words hee would diſcouer, but pleaſantly
ſaid to the Queene. Why Madame, although I was once heere
before to night, I hope you miſlike not my ſecond ſeeing you, nor if I
ſhould pleaſe to come againe. No truely Sir, quoth ſhe, I onely deſire
you to haue care of your health. Well, ſaid the King, I will follow your
counſaile, and now returne to mine owne lodging againe, committing
my Queene to her good reſt.
His blood boyling with rage and diſtemper, by ſuch a monſtrous iniurie
offered him; he wrapt his night-mantle about him, and leauing his
Chamber, imagining, that whatſoeuer he was, needes he muſt be one of
his owne houſe: he tooke a light in his hand, and conuayed it into a little
Lanthorne, purpoſing to be reſolued in his ſuſpition. No gueſts or ſtrangers
were now in his Court, but onely ſuch as belonged to his houſhold,
who lodged altogether about the Eſcurie and Stables, being there appointed
to diuers beds. Now, this was his conceite, that whoſoeuer had
beene ſo lately familiar with the Queene, his heart and pulſe could (as
yet) be hardly at reſt, but rather would be troubled with apparant agitation,
as diſcouering the guilt of ſo great an offender. Many Chambers
had hee paſſed thorow, where all were ſoundly ſleeping, and yet he felt
both their breſts and pulſes.
At laſt he came to the lodging of the man indeede, that had ſo impudently
vſurped his place, who could not as yet ſleepe, for ioy of his atchieued
aduenture. When he eſpied the King come in, knowing well the occaſion
of his ſearch, he began to waxe very doubtfull, ſo that his heart and
pulſe beating extremely, he felt a further addition of feare, as being confidently
perſwaded, that there was now no other way but death, eſpecially
if the King diſcouered his agony. And although many conſiderations
were in his braine, yet becauſe he ſaw that the King was vnarmed, his beſt
refuge was, to make ſhew of ſleepe, in expectation what the King intended
to doe. Among them all he had ſought, yet could not find any likelihood,
wherby to gather a grounded probability; vntill he came to this
Querry, whoſe heart and pulſes laboured ſo ſternely, that he ſaid to himſelfe;
yea mary, this is the man that did the deede.
Neuertheleſſe, purpoſing to make no apparance of his further intention,
he did nothing elſe to him, but drawing foorth a paire of ſheares,
which purpoſely he brought thither with him, he clipped away a part of
his lockes, which (in thoſe times) they vſed to weare very long, to the end
that he might the better know him the next morning, and ſo returned
backe to his lodging againe. The Querry, who partly ſaw, but felt what
was done to him; perceiued plainely (being a ſubtill ingenious fellow) for
what intent he was thus marked. Wherefore, without any longer dallying,
vp he roſe, and taking a paire of ſheares, wherewith they vſed to trim
their Horſes; ſoftly he went from bed to bed, where they all lay yet ſoundly
ſleeping, and clipt away each mans locke from his right eare, in the ſelfe
ſame manner as the King had done his, and being not perceiued by any
one of them, quietly he laide him downe againe.
In the morning, when the King was riſen, he gaue command that before
the Pallace gates were opened, all his whole Family ſhould come
before him, as inſtantly his will was fulfilled. Standing all vncouered in
his preſence, he began to conſider with himſelfe, which of them was the
man that he had marked. And ſeeing the moſt part of them to haue their
lockes cut, all after one and the ſelfe ſame manner; maruailing greatly, he
ſaide to himſelfe. The man whom I ſeeke for, though he be but of meane
and baſe condition, yet it plainely appeareth, that he is of no deiect or
common vnderſtanding. And ſeeing, that without further clamour and
noyſe, he could not find out the party he looked for; he concluded, not to
win eternall ſhame, by compaſſing a poore reuenge: but rather (by way of
admonition) to let the offender know in a word, that he was both noted
and obſerued. So turning to them all, he ſaide; He that hath done it, let
him be ſilent, and doe ſo no more, and now depart about your buſineſſe.
Some other turbulent ſpirited man, no impriſonments, tortures, examinations,
and interrogatories, could haue ſerued his turne; by which
courſe of proceeding, he makes the ſhame to be publikely knowne, which
reaſon requireth to keepe concealed. But admit that condigne vengeance
were taken, it diminiſheth not one title of the ſhame, neither qualifieth
the peoples bad affections, who will laſh out as liberally in ſcandall,
and vpon the very leaſt babling rumor. Such therefore as heard the Kings
words, few though they were, yet truly wiſe; maruelled much at them, and
by long examinations among themſelues, queſtioned, but came far ſhort
of his meaning; the man onely excepted, whom indeede they concerned,
and by whom they were neuer diſcouered, ſo long as the King liued, neither
did he dare at any time after, to hazard his life in the like action, vnder
the frownes or fauour of Fortune.
Vnder colour of Confeſsion, and of a moſt pure conſcience, a faire young Gentlewoman, being amourouſly affected to an honeſt man; induced a deuoute and ſolemne religious Friar, to aduiſe her in the meanes (without his ſuſpition or perceiuing) how to enioy the benefit of her friend, and bring her deſires to their full effect.
The third Nouell.
Declaring, that the leude and naughty qualities of ſome perſons, doe oftentimes miſguide good people, into very great and greeuous errors.
WHen Madam Pampinea ſate ſilent, and the Querries boldneſſe equalled
with his crafty cunning, and great wiſedome in the King
had paſſed among them with generall applauſe; the Queene, her ſelfe to
Madam Philomena, appointed her to follow next in order, and to hold
rancke with her diſcourſe, as the reſt had done before her: whereupon
Philomena graciouſly began in this manner.
It is my purpoſe, to acquaint
you with a notable mockery,
which was performed (not in ieſt,
but earneſt) by a faire Gentlewoman,
to a graue and deuoute religious
Friar, which will yeelde ſo
much the more pleaſure and recreation,
to euery ſecular vnderſtander,
if but diligently he or ſhee
doe obſerue; how commonly
thoſe religious perſons (at leaſt
the moſt part of them) like notorious
fooles, are the inuenters of
new courſes and cuſtomes, as thinking
themſelues more wiſe and
skilful in all things then any other;
yet proue to be of no worth or validity,
addicting the very beſt of
all their deuiſes, to expreſſe their
owne vileneſſe of minde, and fatten themſelues in their ſties, like to pampered
Swine. And aſſure your ſelues worthy Ladies, that I doe not tell
this Tale onely to follow the order enioyned me; but alſo to informe you
that ſuch Saint-like holy Sirs, of whom we are too opinatiue and credulous,
may be, yea, and are (diuers times) cunningly met withall, in their
craftineſſe, not onely by men, but likewiſe ſome of our owne ſexe, as I
ſhall make it apparant to you.
In our owne City (more full of craft and deceit, then loue or faithfull
dealing) there liued not many yeeres ſince a Gentlewoman, of good ſpirit,
highly minded, endued with beauty and all commendable qualities,
as any other woman (by nature) could be. Her name, or any others, concerned
in this Nouell, I meane not to make manifeſt, albeit I know them,
becauſe ſome are yet liuing, and thereby may be ſcandalized; and therefore
it ſhall ſuffice to paſſe them ouer with a ſmile. This Gentlewoman,
ſeeing her ſelfe to be deſcended of very great parentage, and (by chance)
married to an Artezen, a Clothier or Drapier, that liued by the making
and ſelling of Cloth: ſhee could not (becauſe he was a Trades-man) take
downe the height of her minde; conceiuing, that no man of meane condition
(how rich ſoeuer) was worthy to enioy a Gentlewoman in marriage.
Obſeruing moreouer, that with all his wealth and treaſure, he vnderſtood
nothing better, then to open skeines of yarne, fill ſhuttles, lay
webbes in Loomes, or diſpute with his Spinſters, about their buſineſſe.
Being thus ouer-ſwayed with her proud opinion, ſhee would no longer
be embraced, or regarded by him in any manner, and onely becauſe ſhe
could not refuſe him; but would find ſome other for her better ſatisfaction,
who might ſeeme more worthy of her reſpect, then the Drapier her
Husband did. Hereupon ſhee fell ſo deepe in loue, with a very honeſt
man of our City alſo, and of indifferent yeeres; as what day ſhee ſaw him
not, ſhee could take no reſt the night enſuing. The man himſelfe knew
nothing hereof, and therefore was the more neglect and careleſſe, and ſhe
being curious, nice, yet wiſely conſiderate; durſt not let him vnderſtand it,
neither by any womans cloſe conueyed meſſage, nor yet by Letters, as
fearing the perils which happen in ſuch caſes. But her eye obſeruing his
daily walkes and reſorts, gaue her notice of his often conuerſing with a
religious Friar, who albeit he was a fat and corpulent man, yet notwithſtanding,
becauſe he ſeemed to leade a ſanctimonious life, and was reported
to be a moſt honeſt man; ſhe perſwaded her ſelfe, that he might be the
beſt meanes, betweene her and her friend.
Hauing conſidered with her ſelfe, what courſe was beſt to be obſerued
in this caſe; vpon a day, apt and conuenient, ſhee went to the Conuent,
where he kept, and hauing cauſed him to be called, ſhee told him, that if
his leyſure ſo ſerued, very gladly ſhee would be confeſſed, and onely had
made her choyce of him. The holy man ſeeing her, and reputing her to
be a Gentlewoman, as indeede ſhee was no leſſe; willingly heard her, and
when ſhee had confeſſed what ſhee could, ſhee had yet another matter to
acquaint him withall, and thereupon thus ſhe began.
Holy Father, it is no more then conuenient, that I ſhould haue recourſe
to you, to be aſſiſted by your help and councell, in a matter which
I will impart vnto you. I know, that you are not ignorant of my parents
and husband, of whom I am affected as dearely as his life, for proofe
whereof, there is not any thing that I can deſire, but immediatly I haue
it of him, he being a moſt rich man, and may very ſufficiently affoord it.
In regard whereof, I loue him equally as my ſelfe, and, ſetting aſide my
beſt endeauours for him; I muſt tell you one thing, quite contrary to his
liking and honor, wherein no woman can more worthily deſerue death,
then my ſelfe. Vnderſtand then, good Father, that there is a man, whoſe
name I know not, but hee ſeemeth to be honeſt, and of good worth;
moreouer (if I am not deceiued) hee reſorteth oftentimes to you, being
faire and comely of perſon, going alwayes in blacke garments of good
price and value. This man, imagining (perhaps) no ſuch minde in me,
as truely there is; hath often attempted mee, and neuer can I be at my
doore, or window, but hee is alwayes preſent in my ſight, which is not a
little diſpleaſing to me; he watcheth my walkes, and much I meruaile, that
he is not now here.
Let me tell you holy Sir, that ſuch behauiours, doe many times lay bad
imputations vpon very honeſt women, yet without any offence in them.
It hath often run in my minde, to let him haue knowledge thereof by my
brethren: but afterward I conſidered, that men (many times) deliuer
meſſages in ſuch ſort, as draw on very vngentle anſweres, whereon grow
words, and words beget actions. In which reſpect, becauſe no harme or
ſcandall ſhould enſue, I thought it beſt to be ſilent; determining, to acquaint
you rather therewith, then any other, as well becauſe you ſeeme
to be his friend, as alſo in regard of your office, which priuiledgeth you,
to correct ſuch abuſes, not onely in friends, but alſo in ſtrangers. Enowe
other women there are, (more is the pitty) who (perhaps) are better diſpoſed
to ſuch ſuites, then I am, and can both like and allowe of ſuch courting,
otherwiſe then I can doe; as being willing to embrace ſuch offers,
and (happily) loath to yeeld deniall. Wherefore, moſt humbly I entreat
you, good Father (euen for our bleſſed Ladies ſake) that you would giue
him a friendly reprehenſion, and aduiſe him, to vſe ſuch vnmanly meanes
no more hereafter. With which words, ſhee hung downe her head in
her boſome, cunningly diſſembling, as if ſhee wept, wiping her eyes
with her Handkerchife, when not a teare fell from them, but indeed were
dry enough.
The holy Religious man, ſo ſoone as he heard her deſcription of the
man, preſently knew whom ſhee meant, and highly commending the
Gentlewoman, for her good and vertuous ſeeming diſpoſition, beleeued
faithfully all that ſhee had ſaid: promiſing her, to order the matter
ſo well and diſcreetly, as ſhee ſhould not be any more offended. And
knowing her to be a woman of great wealth (after all their vſuall manner,
when they caſt forth their fiſhing nets for gaine:) liberally he commended
Almes-deedes, and dayly workes of charity, recounting to her
(beſide) his owne perticular neceſſities. Then, giuing him two pieces
of gold, ſhe ſaid. I pray you (good Father) to be mindfull of me, and if
he chance to make any deniall: tell him boldly, that I ſpake it my ſelfe to
you, and by the way of a ſad complaint her confeſſion being ended, and
penance eaſie enough enioyned her, ſhee promiſed to make her parents
bountifull benefactours to the Conuent, and put more money into his
hand, deſiring him in his Maſſes, to remember the ſoules of her deceaſed
friends, and ſo returned home to her houſe.
Within a ſhort while after her departure, the Gentleman, of whom
ſhe had made this counterfeit complaint, came thither, as was his vſuall
manner, and hauing done his duty to the holy Father; they ſate downe
together priuately, falling out of one diſcourſe into another. At the
length, the Frier (in very louing and friendly ſort) mildly reproued him,
for ſuch amorous glaunces, and other purſuites, which (as he thought)
hee dayly vſed to the Gentlewoman, according to her owne ſpeeches.
The Gentleman meruailed greatly thereat, as one that had neuer ſeene
her, and very ſildome paſſed by the way where ſhe dwelt, which made
him the bolder in his anſweres; wherein the Confeſſour interrupting
him, ſaid. Neuer make ſuch admiration at the matter, neither waſte
more words in theſe ſtout denials, becauſe they cannot ſerue thy turne:
I tell thee plainely, I heard it not from any neighbours, but euen of her
owne ſelfe, in a very ſorrowfull and ſad complaint. And though (perhaps)
hereafter, thou canſt very hardly refraine ſuch follies; yet let mee
tell thee ſo much of her (and vnder the ſeale of abſolute aſſurance) that
ſhe is the onely woman of the world, who (in my true iudgement) doth
hate and abhorre all ſuch baſe behauiour. Wherefore, in regard of thine
owne honor, as alſo not to vexe & preiudice ſo vertuous a Gentlewoman:
I pray thee refrain ſuch idlenes henceforward, & ſuffer hir to liue in peace.
The Gentleman, being a little wiſer then his ghoſtly Father, perceiued
immediatly (without any further meditating on the matter) the notable
polli
•
ie of the woman: whereupon, making ſomewhat baſhfull appearance
of any error already committed; hee ſaid, hee would afterward be
better aduiſed. So, departing from the Frier, he went on directly, to paſſe
by the houſe where the Gentlewoman dwelt, and ſhe ſtood alwayes ready
on her watch, at a little window, to obſerue, when hee ſhould walke that
way: And ſeeing him comming, ſhe ſhewed her ſelfe ſo ioyfull, and gracious
to him, as he eaſily vnderſtood, whereto the ſubſtance of the holy
Fathers chiding tended. And, from that time forward, hee vſed dayly,
though in couert manner (to the no little liking of the Gentlewoman
and himſelfe) to make his paſſage through that ſtreete, vnder colour of
ſome important occaſions there, concerning him.
Soone after, it being plainely diſcerned on either ſide, that the one
was as well contented with theſe walkes, as the other could be: ſhee deſired
to enflame him a little further, by a more liberall illuſtration of her
affection towards him, when time and place affoorded conuenient opportunity.
To the holy Father againe ſhee went, (for ſhee had been too
long from ſhrift) and kneeling downe at his feete, intended to begin her
confeſſion in teares; which the Friar perceiuing, ſorrowfully demanded
of her, what new accident had happened? Holy Father (quoth ſhee) no
nouell accident, but onely your wicked and vngracious friend, by whom
(ſince I was here with you, yea, no longer agoe then yeſterday) I haue
beene ſo wronged, as I verily beleeue that hee was borne to be my mortall
enemie, and to make me doe ſomething to my vtter diſgrace for
euer; and whereby I ſhall not dare to be ſeene any more of you, my
deare Father. How is this? anſwered the Friar, hath he not refrained
from afflicting you ſo abuſiuely?
Pauſing a while, and breathing foorth many a diſſembled ſigh, thus
ſhee replyed. No truly, holy Father, there is no likelyhood of his abſtaining;
for ſince I made my complaint to you, he belike taking it in euill
part, to be contraried in his wanton humours, hath (meerely in deſpight)
walked ſeauen times in a day by my doore, whereas formerly,
he neuer vſed it aboue once or twice. And well were it (good Father)
if he could be contented with thoſe walkes, and gazing glaunces which
hee dartes at me: but growne he is ſo bolde and ſhameleſſe, that euen
yeſterday, (as I tolde you) he ſent a woman to me, one of his Pandoraes)
as it appeared, and as if I had wanted either Purſes or Girdles, he
ſent me (by her) a Purſe and a Girdle. Whereat I grew ſo grieuouſly offended,
as had it not beene for my due reſpect and feare of God, and next
the ſacred reuerence I beare to you my ghoſtly Father; doubtleſſe, I had
done ſome wicked deede. Neuertheleſſe, happily I withſtood it, and will
neither ſay or doe any thing in this caſe, till firſt I haue made it knowne
to you.
Then I called to minde, that hauing redeliuered the Purſe and Girdle
to his ſhee meſſenger, (which brought them) with lookes ſufficient to
declare my diſcontentment: I called her backe againe, fearing leaſt ſhee
would keepe them to her ſelfe, and make him beleeue, that I had receiued
them (as I haue heard ſuch kind of women vſe to doe ſometimes) and in
anger I ſnatcht them from her, and haue brought them hither to you, to
the end that you may giue him them againe; and tell him, I haue no neede
of any ſuch things, thankes be to Heauen and my husband, as no woman
can be better ſtored then I am. Wherefore good Father, purpoſely am I
now come to you, and I beſeech you accept my iuſt excuſe, that if he wil
not abſtaine from thus moleſting me, I will diſcloſe it to my Husband, Father,
and Brethren, whatſoeuer ſhall enſue thereon: for I had rather he
ſhould receiue the iniury (if needs it muſt come) then I to be cauſeleſly
blamed for him; wherein good Father tell me, if I doe not well. With
many counterfet ſobbes, ſighes, and teares, theſe wordes were deliuered;
and drawing foorth from vnder her gowne, a very faire and rich
purſe, as alſo a Girdle of great worth, ſhee threw them into the Friers lap.
He verily beleeuing all this falſe report, beeing troubled in his minde
thereat beyond meaſure, tooke the Gentlewoman by the hand, ſaying:
Daughter, if thou be offended at theſe impudent follies, aſſuredly I cannot
blame thee, nor will any wiſe man reprooue thee for it; and I commend
thee for following my counſell. But let me alone for ſchooling of
my Gentleman: ill hath he kept his promiſe made to mee; wherefore, in
regard of his former offence, as alſo this other ſo lately committed, I hope
to ſet him in ſuch a heate, as ſhall make him leaue off from further iniurying
thee. And in Gods name, ſuffer not thy ſelfe to be conquered by choler,
in diſcloſing this to thy kindred or husband, becauſe too much harme
may enſue thereon. But feare not any wrong to thy ſelfe; for, both before
God and men, I am a true witneſſe of thine honeſty and vertue.
Now began ſhe to appeare ſomewhat better comforted; & forbearing
to play on this ſtring any longer, as wel knowing the couetouſnes of him
and his equals ſhe ſaid. Holy Father, ſome few nights paſt, me thought
in my ſleepe, that diuers ſpirits of my kindred appeared to me in a viſion,
who (me thought) were in very great paines, and deſired nothing els but
Almes; eſpecially my God-mother, who ſeemed to bee afflicted with
ſuch extreme pouerty, that it was moſt pittifull to behold. And I am half
perſwaded, that her torments are the greater, ſeeing mee troubled with
ſuch an enemy to goodneſſe. Wherefore (good Father) to deliuer her
ſoule and the others, out of thoſe fearfull flames; among your infinit other
deuout prayers, I would haue you to ſay the fortie Maſſes of S. Gregory,
as a meanes for their happy deliuerance, and ſo ſhe put ten ducates
into his hand. Which the holy man accepted thankfully, and with good
words, as alſo many ſingular examples, confirmed her bountifull deuotion:
and when he had giuen her his benediction, home ſhe departed.
After that the Gentlewoman was gone, hee ſent for his friend, whom
ſhe ſo much ſeemed to be troubled withall; and when he was come, hee
beholding his Holy Father to looke diſcontentedly: thought, that now
he ſhould heare ſome newes from his Miſtreſſe, and therefore expected
what he would ſay. The Frier, falling into the courſe of his former reprehenſions,
but yet in more rough and impatient manner, ſharpely checkt
him for his immodeſt behauiour towards the Gentlewoman, in ſending
her the Purſe and Girdle. The Gentleman, who as yet could not gueſſe
whereto his ſpeeches tended; ſomewhat coldly and temperately, denied
the ſending of ſuch tokens to her, to the end that he would not be vtterly
diſcredited with the good man, if ſo bee the Gentlewoman had ſhewne
him any ſuch things. But then the Frier, waxing much more angry, ſternly
ſaid. Bad man as thou art, how canſt thou deny a manifeſt trueth? See
ſir, theſe are none of your amorous tokens? No, I am ſure you doe not
know them, nor euer ſaw them till now.
The Gentleman, ſeeming as if he were much aſhamed, ſaide. Truely
Father I do know them, and confeſſe that I haue done ill, and very greatly
offended: but now I will ſweare vnto you, ſeeing I vnderſtande how
firmely ſhe is affected, that you ſhall neuer heare any more complaints of
me. Such were his vowes and proteſtations, as in the end the ghoſtly Father
gaue him both the Purſe and Girdle: then after he had preached, &
ſeuerely coniured him, neuer more to vexe her with any gifts at all, and
he binding himſelfe thereto by a ſolemne promiſe, he gaue him licenſe to
depart. Now grew the Gentleman very iocond, being ſo ſurely certifyed
of his Miſtreſſes loue, and by tokens of ſuch worthy eſteeme; wherefore
no ſooner was hee gone from the Frier, but hee went into ſuch a ſecret
place, where he could let her behold at her Window, what precious tokens
he had receyued from her, whereof ſhe was extraordinarily ioyfull,
becauſe her deuices grew ſtill better and b
••
ter; nothing now wanting,
but her husbands abſence, vpon ſome iourney from the City, for the full
effecting of her deſire.
Within a few dayes after, ſuch an occaſion hapned, as her husband of
neceſſity muſt iourney to Geneway; and no ſooner was hee mounted on
horſebacke, taking leaue of her and all his friends: but ſhe, being ſure hee
was gone, went in all haſt to her Ghoſtly Father; and, after a few faigned
outward ſhewes, thus ſhe ſpake. I muſt now plainly tell you, holy father,
that I can no longer endure this wicked friend of yours; but becauſe I
promiſed you the other day, that I would not do any thing, before I had
your counſell therein, I am now come to tell you, the iuſt reaſon of my
anger, and full purpoſe to auoid all further molleſtation.
Your friend I cannot terme him, but (queſtionles) a very diuel of hell.
This morning, before the breake of day, hauing heard (but how, I know
not) that my husband was ridden to Geneway: got ouer the wall into my
Garden, and climbing vp a tree which ſtandeth cloſe before my chamber
window, when I was faſt aſleepe, opened the Caſement, and would haue
entred in at the window. But, by great good fortune, I awaked and made
ſhew of an open out-cry: but that he entreated mee, both for Gods ſake
and yours, to pardon him this error, and neuer after he would preſume
any more to offend me. When he ſaw, that (for your ſake) I was ſilent, he
cloſed faſt the window againe, departed as he came, and ſince I neuer ſaw
him, or heard any tidings of him. Now iudge you, holy Father, whether
theſe be honeſt courſes, or no, and to be endured by any ciuil Gentlewoman;
neither would I ſo patiently haue ſuffered this, but onely in my dutifull
reuerence to you.
The Ghoſtly Father hearing this, became the ſorrowfulleſt man in the
world, not knowing how to make her any anſwer, but only demanded of
her diuers times, whether ſhe knew him ſo perfectly, that ſhe did nor miſtake
him for ſome other? Quoth ſhe, I would I did not know him from
any other. Alas deere daughter (replied the Frier) what can more be ſayd
in this caſe, but that it was ouer-much boldneſſe, and very il done; & thou
ſhewedſt thy ſelfe a worthy wiſe woman, in ſending him away ſo mercifully,
as thou didſt. Once more I would entreat thee (deare and vertuous
daughter) ſeeing grace hath hitherto kept thee from diſhonor, and twice
already thou haſt credited my counſell, let me now aduiſe thee this laſt
time. Spare ſpeech, or complaining to any other of thy friends, and leaue
it to me, to try if I can ouercome this vnchained diuel, whom I tooke to
be a much more holy man. If I can recall him from this ſenſuall appetite,
I ſhall account my labour well employed; but if I cannot do it, henceforward
(with my bleſſed benediction) I giue thee leaue to do, euen what
thy heart will beſt tutor thee to. You ſee Sir (ſaid ſhee) what manner of
man he is, yet would I not haue you troubled or diſobeyed, only I deſire
to liue without diſturbance, which work (I beſeech you) as beſt you may:
for I promiſe you, good Father, neuer to ſolicite you more vppon this
occaſion: And ſo, in a pretended rage, ſhee returned backe from the
ghoſtly Father.
Scarſely was ſhe gone forth of the Church, but in commeth the man
that had (ſuppoſedly) ſo much tranſgreſſed; and the Fryer taking him aſide,
gaue him the moſt iniurious words that could be vſed to a man, calling
him diſloyall, periured, and a traitor. Hee who had formerly twice
perceiued, how high the holy mans anger mounted, did nothing but expect
what he wold ſay; and, like a man extreamly perplexed, ſtroue how
to get it from him, ſaying; Holy Father, how come you to be ſo heinouſly
offended? What haue I done to incenſe you ſo ſtrangely? Heare mee
diſhoneſt wretch anſwered the Frier, liſten what I ſhall ſay vnto thee.
Thou anſwereſt me, as if it were a yeare or two paſt, ſince ſo foule abuſes
were by thee committed, & they almoſt quite out of thy remembrance.
But tell me wicked man, where waſt thou this morning, before breake of
the day? Whereſoeuer I was, replyed the Gentleman, mee thinkes the
tidings come very quickly to you. It is true, ſaid the Frier, they are ſpeedily
come to me indeed, and vpon vrgent neceſſity.
After a little curbing in of his wrath, ſomewhat in a milder ſtrain, thus
he proceeded. Becauſe the Gentlewomans husband is iourneyed to Geneway,
proues this a ladder to your hope, that to embrace her in your
armes, you muſt climbe ouer the Garden wall, like a treacherous robber
in the night ſeaſon, mount vp a tree before her Chamber window, open
the Caſement, as hoping to compaſſe that by importunity, which her
ſpotleſſe chaſtity will neuer permit. There is nothing in the world, that
poſſibly ſhe can hate more then you, and yet you will loue her whether
ſhe will or no. Many demonſtrations her ſelfe hath made to you, how
retrograde you are to any good conceit of her, & my louing admoniſhments
might haue had better ſucceſſe in you, then as yet they ſhewe by
outward apparance. But one thing I muſt tell you, her ſilent ſufferance of
your iniuries all this while, hath not bin in any reſpect of you, but at my
earneſt entreaties, and for my ſake. But now ſhee will be patient no longer,
and I haue giuen her free licenſe, if euer heereafter you offer to attempt
her any more, to make her complaint before her Brethren, which
wil redound to your no meane danger.
The Gentleman, hauing wiſely collected his Loue-leſſon out of the
Holy Fathers angry words, pacified the good old man ſo wel as he could
with very ſolemne promiſes and proteſtations, that he ſhould heare (no
more) any misbehauiour of his. And being gone from him, followed
the inſtructions giuen in her complaint, by climbing ouer the Garden
Wall, aſcending the Tree, and entering at the Caſement, ſtanding ready
open to welcome him. Thus the Friers ſimplicity, wrought on by her
moſt ingenuous ſubtiltie, made way to obtaine both their longing deſires.
A yong Scholler, named Felice, enstructed Puccio di Rinieri, how to become rich in a very ſhort time. While Puccio made experience of the instructions taught him; Felice obtained the fauour of his Daughter.
The fourth Nouell.
Wherein is declared, what craft and ſubtilty ſome wily wits can deuiſe, to deceiue the ſimple, and compaſſe their owne deſires.
AFter that Philomena had finiſhed
her Tale, ſhe ſate ſtill;
and Dioneus with faire and pleaſing
Language) commended the
Gentlewomans quaint cunning,
but ſmiled at the Confeſſors witleſſe
ſimplicity. Then the Queen,
turning with chearefull looks towards
Pamphilus, commaunded
him to continue on their delight;
who gladly yeelded, and thus began.
Madame, many men there
are, who while they ſtriue to
climbe from a good eſtate, to a
ſeeming better; doe become in
much worſe condition then they
were before. As happened to a
neighbour of ours, and no long
time ſince, as the accident will
better acquaint you withall.
According as I haue heard it reported, neere to Saint Brancazio, there
dwelt an honeſt man, and ſome-what rich, who was called Puccio di Rinieri,
and who addicted all his paines and endeuours to Alchimy: wherefore,
he kept no other family, but onely a widdowed daughter, and a ſeruant;
and becauſe he had no other Art or exerciſe, hee vſed often to frequent
the market place. And in regard he was but a weake witted man,
and a gourmand or groſſe feeder; his language was the more harſh and
rude, like to our common Porters or loutiſh men, and his carriage alſo
abſurd, boore-like, and clowniſh. His daughter, being named Monna Iſabetta,
aged not aboue eight and twenty, or thirty yeers; was a freſh indifferent
faire, plumpe, round woman, cherry cheekt, like a Queene-Apple;
and, to pleaſe her Father, fed not ſo ſparingly, as otherwiſe ſhe wold
haue done, but when ſhe communed or ieſted with any body, ſhe would
talke of nothing, but onely concerning the great vertue in Alchimy, extolling
it aboue all other Arts.
Much about this ſeaſon of the yeare, there returned a young Scholler
from Paris, named Felice, faire of complexion, comely of perſon, ingeniouſly
witted, and skilfully learned, who (ſoone after) grew into familiarity
with Puccio: now becauſe he could reſolue him in many doubts, depending
on his profeſſion of Alchimy, (himſelfe hauing onely practiſe,
but no great learning) he vſed many queſtions to him, ſhewed him very
eſpeciall matters of ſecrecy, entertaining him often to dinners and ſuppers,
whenſoeuer he pleaſed to come and conuerſe with him; and his
daughter likewiſe, perceiuing with what fauour her Father reſpected him,
became the more familiar with him, allowing him good regard and reuerence.
The young man continuing his reſort to the Houſe of Puccio, and obſeruing
the widow to be faire, freſh, and prettily formall; he began to conſider
with himſelfe, what thoſe things might be, wherein ſhee was moſt
wanting; and (if he could) to ſaue anothers labour, ſupply them by his beſt
endeauours. Thus not alwayes carrying his eyes before him, but vſing
many backe and circumſpect regards, he proceeded ſo farre in his wylie
apprehenſions, that (by a few ſparkes cloſe kept together) he kindled part
of the ſame fire in her, which began to flame apparantly in him. And he
very wittily obſeruing the ſame, as occaſion firſt ſmiled on him, and allowed
him fauourable opportunity, ſo did hee impart his intention to
her.
Now albeit he found her plyant enough, to gaine phyſick for her owne
griefe, as ſoone as his; yet the meanes and manner were (as yet) quite out
of all apprehenſion. For ſhee in no other part of the World, would truſt
her ſelfe in the young mans company, but onely in her Fathers houſe; and
that was a place out of all poſſibility, becauſe Puccio (by a long continued
cuſtome) vſed to watch well neere all the night, as commonly he did, each
night after other, neuer ſtirring foorth of the roomes, which much abated
the edge of the young mans appetite. After infinite intricate reuoluings,
wheeling about his buſied braine, he thought it not altogether an Herculian
taske, to enioy his happineſſe in the houſe, and without any ſuſpition,
albeit Puccio kept ſtill within doores, and watched as hee was wont to
doe.
Vpon a day as he ſate in familiar conference with Puccio, he began to
ſpeake vnto him in this manner; I haue many times noted, kinde friend
Puccio, that all thy deſire and endeauour is, by what meanes thou mayeſt
become very rich, wherein (me thinkes) thou takeſt too wide a courſe,
when there is a much neere and ſhorter way, which Mighell, Scotus, and
other his aſſociates, very diligently obſerued and followed, yet were neuer
willing to inſtruct other men therein; whereby the miſterie might be
drowned in obliuion, and proſecuted by none but onely great Lords, that
are able to vndergoe it. But becauſe thou art mine eſpeciall friend, and I
haue receiued from thee infinite kind fauours; whereas I neuer intended,
that any man (by me) ſhould be acquainted with ſo rare a ſecret; if thou
wilt imitate the courſe as I ſhall ſhew thee, I purpoſe to teach it thee in
full perfection. Puccio being very earneſtly deſirous to vnderſtand the
ſpeedieſt way to ſo ſingular a myſterie, firſt began to entreat him (with no
meane inſtance) to acquaint him with the rules of ſo rich a Science; and
afterward ſware vnto him, neuer to diſcloſe it to any perſon, except hee
gaue his conſent thereto; affirming beſide, that it was a rarity, not eaſie
to be comprehended by very apprehenſiue iudgements. Well (quoth
Felice) ſeeing thou haſt made me ſuch a ſound and ſolemne promiſe, I will
make it knowne vnto thee.
Know then friend Puccio, the Philoſophers do hold, that ſuch as couet
to become rich indeed, muſt vnderſtand how to make the Stone: as I will
tell thee how, but marke the manner very heedfully. I do not ſay, that after
the Stone is obtained, thou ſhalt be euen as rich as now thou art; but
thou ſhalt plainly perceiue, that the very groſeſt ſubſtances, which hitherto
thou haſt ſeene, all of them ſhalbe made pure golde, and ſuch as afterward
thou makeſt, ſhall be more certaine, then to go or come with Aqua
fortis, as now they do. Moſt expedient is it therefore, that when a man
will go diligently about this buſineſſe, and purpoſeth to proſecute ſuch a
ſingular labour, which will and muſt continue for the ſpace of 40. nights,
muſt giue very carefull attendance, wholly abſtaining from ſleepe, ſlumbering,
or ſo much as nodding all that while.
Moreouer, in ſome apt and conuenient place of thy houſe, there muſt
be a forge or furnace erected, framed in decent and formall faſhion, and
neere it a large table placed, ordered in ſuch ſort, as ſtanding vpright on
thy feete, and leaning the reines of thy backe againſt it; thou muſt ſtande
ſtedfaſtly in that maner euery night, without the leaſt motion or ſtirring,
vntill the breake of day appeareth, and thine eyes ſtill vppon the Furnace
fixed, to keepe euer in memory, the true order which I haue preſcribed.
So ſoone as the morning is ſeene, thou mayſt (if thou wilt) walke, or reſt
a little vpon thy bed, and afterward go about thy buſineſſe, if thou haue
any. Then go to dinner, attending readily till the euenings approch, preparing
ſuch things as I will readily ſet thee downe in writing, vvithout
which there is not any thing to bee done; and then returne to the ſame
taske againe, not varying a iot from the courſe directed. Before the time
be fully expired, thou ſhalt perceiue many apparant ſignes, that the ſtone
is ſtill in abſolute forwardneſſe, but it will bee vtterly loſt if thou fayle in
the leaſt of all the obſeruances. And when the experience hath crowned
thy labour, thou art ſure to haue the Philoſophers ſtone, and thereby
ſhalt be able to enrich all, and worke wonders beſide.
Puccio inſtantly replied. Now truſt me Sir, there is a great difficultie
in this labour, neither doth it require any extraordinary length of time:
but it may very eaſily be followed and performed, and (by your friendly
fauour, in helping to direct the Furnace and Table, according as you imagine
moſt conuenient) on Sunday at night next, I will begin my task.
The Scholler being gone, he went to his daughter, and tolde her all the
matter, and what he had determined to do: which ſhee immediately vnderſtood
ſufficiently, and what would enſue on his nightly watching in
that manner, returning him anſwer, that whatſoeuer he liked and allowed
of, it became not her any way to miſlike. Thus they continued in this
kinde concordance, till Sunday night came. When Puccio was to begin
his experience, and Felice to ſet forward vpon his aduenture. Concluded
it was, that euery night the Scholler muſt come to Supper, partly to bee
a witneſſe of his conſtant performance, but more eſpecially for his owne
aduantage.
The place which Puccio had choſen, for his hopefull attaining to the
Philoſophers Stone, was cloſe to the Chamber where his daughter lay,
hauing no other ſeparation or diuiſion, but an old ruinous tottring wall.
So that, when the Scholler was playing his prize, Puccio heard an vnwonted
noiſe in the houſe, which he had neuer obſerued before, neither
knew the wall to haue any ſuch motion: wherefore, not daring to ſtirre
from his ſtanding, leaſt all ſhould be marrd in the very beginning, he called
to his daughter, demanding, what buſie labour ſhe was about? The
widdow, being much addicted to frumping, according as queſtions were
demanded of her, and (perhaps) forgetting who ſpake to her, pleaſantly
replied: Whoop Sir, where are we now? Are the Spirits of Alchimy
walking in the houſe, that we cannot lye quietly in our beds?
Puccio meruailing at this anſwer, knowing ſhe neuer gaue him the like
before; demanded againe, what ſhe did? The ſubtle wench, remembring
that ſhe had not anſwered as became her, ſaid: Pardon mee Father, my
wits were not mine owne, when you demanded ſuch a ſodaine queſtion;
and I haue heard you ſay an hundred times, that when folke go ſupperles
to bed, either they walke in their ſleepe, or being awake, talke very idely,
as (no doubt) you haue diſcernde by me. Nay daughter (quoth he) it may
be, that I was in a waking dreame, and thought I heard the olde wall totter:
but I ſee I was deceiued, for now it is quiet and ſtill enough. Talke
no more good Father, ſaide ſhe, leaſt you ſtirre from your place, and hinder
your labour: take no care for mee, I am able enough to haue care of
my ſelfe.
To preuent any more of theſe mighty diſturbances, they went to lodge
in another part of the houſe, where they continued out the time of Puccioes
paines, with equall contentment to them both, which made her diuers
times ſay to Felice: You teach my father the cheefe grounds of Alchimy,
while we helpe to waſte away his treaſure. Thus the Scholler being
but poore, yet well forwarded in Learning, made vſe of Puccioes folly,
and found benefit thereby, to keepe him out of wants, which is the
bane and ouerthrow of numberleſſe good wits. And Puccio dying, before
the date of his limitted time, becauſe hee failed of the Philoſophers
Stone, Iſabetta ioyned in marriage with Felice, to make him amends for
enſtructing her father, by which meanes he came to be her husband.
Ricciardo, ſurnamed the Magnifico, gaue a Horſe to Signior Franceſco Vergelliſi, vpon condition, that (by his leaue and liſence) he might ſpeake to his Wife in his preſence; which he did, and ſhee not returning him any anſwere, made anſwer to himſelfe on her behalfe, and according to his anſwer, ſo the effect followed.
The fifth Nouell.
Wherein is deſcribed the frailety of ſome Women, and folly of ſuch Husbands, as leaue them alone to their owne diſpoſition.
PAmphilus hauing ended the
Nouell of Puccio the Alchimiſt,
the Queene fixing her eye
on Madam Eliza, gaue order,
that ſhee ſhould ſucceede with
hers next. When ſhee asking
ſomewhat more auſterely, then
any of the reſt, not in any ſpleen,
but as it was her vſuall manner,
thus began. The World containeth
ſome particular people▪
who doe beleeue (becauſe themſelues
know ſomething) that others
are ignorant in all things;
who for the moſt part, while they
intend to make a ſcorne of other
men, vpon the proofe, doe find
•
themſelues to carry away the
ſcorne. And therefore I account
it no meane follie in them▪ who (vpon no occaſion) will tempt the power
of another mans wit or experience. But becauſe all men and women (perhaps)
are not of mine opinion; I meane that you ſhall perceiue it more
apparantly, by an accident happening to a Knight of Pistoia, as you ſhall
heare by me related.
In the Towne of Pistoia, bordering vpon Florence, there liued not long
ſince, a Knight named Signior Franceſco, deſcended of the linage or family
of the Vergelliſi, a man very rich, wiſe, and in many things prouident,
but gripple, couetous, and too cloſe handed, without reſpect to
his vvorth and reputation. He being called to the Office of Podesta in the
City of Millaine, furniſhed himſelfe with all things (in honourable manner)
beſeeming ſuch a charge; only, a comely horſe (for his owne ſaddle)
excepted, vvhich he knew not by any meanes how to compaſſe, ſo loath
he vvas to lay out money, albeit his credit much depended thereon.
At the ſame time, there liued in Pistoya likewiſe, a young man, named
Ricciardo, deriued of meane birth, but very wealthy, quicke witted, and of
commendable perſon, alwayes going ſo neate, fine, and formall in his apparrell,
that he was generally tearmed the Magnifico, who had long time
affected, yea, and cloſely courted, (though without any aduantage or
ſucceſſe) the Lady and Wife of Signior Franceſco, who was very beautifull,
vertuous, and chaſte. It ſo chanced, that this Magnifico had the very
choyſeſt and goodlieſt ambling Gelding in all Tuſcanie, which he loued
dearely, for his faire forme, and other good parts. Vpon a flying rumor
throughout Piſtoria, that he daily made loue to the fore-ſaid Lady; ſome
buſie body, put it into the head of Signior Franceſco, that if he pleaſed to
requeſt the Gelding, the Magnifico would frankly giue it him, in regard
of the loue he bare to his Wife.
The baſe minded Knight, coueting to haue the Horſe, and yet not to
part with any money, ſent for the Magnifico, deſiring to buy his faire
Gelding of him, becauſe he hoped to haue him of free gift. The Magnifico
hearing his requeſt, was not a little ioyfull hereof, and thus anſwered;
Sir, if you would giue me all the wealth which you poſſeſſe in this
World, I will not ſell you my Horſe, rather I will beſtow him on you as
a Gentlemanly gift; but yet vpon this condition, that before you haue
him deliuered, I may with your liſence, and in your preſence ſpeake a
few words to your vertuous Ladie, and ſo farre off in diſtance from you,
as I may not be heard by any, but onely her ſelfe. Signior Franceſco, wholly
conducted by his baſe auaricious deſire, and meaning to make a ſcorne
at the Magnifico, made anſwere; that he was well contented, to let him
ſpeake with her when he would, and leauing him in the great Hall of the
houſe, he went to his Wiues Chamber, and told her, how eaſily he might
enioy the Houſe; commanding her forth-with, to come and heare what
he could ſay to her, onely ſhee ſhould abſtaine, and not returne him any
anſwer. The Lady with a modeſt bluſh, much condemned this folly in
him, that his couetouſneſſe ſhould ſerue as a cloake, to couer any vnfitting
ſpeeches, which her chaſte eares could neuer endure to heare: neuertheleſſe,
being to obey her Husbands will, ſhee promiſed to doe it,
and followed him downe into the Houſe, to heare what the Magnifico
would ſay. Againe, he there confirmed the bargaine made with her Huſband,
and ſitting downe by her in a corner of the Hall, farre enough off
from any ones hearing, taking her curteouſly by the hand, thus he ſpake.
Worthy Lady, it appeareth to me for a certainty, that you are ſo truly
wiſe, as you haue (no doubt) a long while ſince perceiued, what vnfained
affection your beauty (farre excelling all other womens that I know)
hath compelled me to beare you. Setting aſide thoſe commendable qualities,
and ſingular vertues, gloriouſly ſhining in you, and powerfull enough
to make a conqueſt of the very ſtouteſt courage: I held it vtterly
needleſſe, to let you vnderſtand by words, how faithfull the loue is I beare
you, were it not much more feruent and conſtant, then euer any other
man can expreſſe to a woman. In which condition it ſhall ſtill continue,
without the leaſt blemiſh or impaire, ſo long as I enioy life or motion;
yea, and I dare aſſure you, that if in the future World, affection may containe
the ſame powerfull dominion, as it doth in this; I am the man, borne
to loue you perpetually. Whereby you may reſt confidently perſwaded,
that you enioy not any thing, how poore or precious ſoeuer it be, which
you can ſo ſolemnely account to be your owne, and in the trueſt title of
right, as you may my ſelfe, in all that I haue, or for euer ſhall be mine.
To confirme your opinion in this caſe, by any argument of greater power,
let me tell you, that I ſhould repute it as my faireſt and moſt gracious
fortune, if you would command me ſome ſuch ſeruice, as conſiſteth in
mine ability to performe, and in your courteous fauour to accept, yea, if
it were to trauaile thorow the whole world, right willing am I, and obedient.
In which regard, faire Madame, if I be ſo much yours, as you
heare I am, I may boldly aduenture (and not without good reaſon) to
acquaint your chaſte eares with my earneſt deſires, for on you onely dependeth
my happineſſe, life and abſolute comfort, and as your moſt humble
ſeruant, I beſeech you (my deareſt good, and ſole hope of my ſoule)
that rigour may dwell no longer in your gentle breſt, but Lady-like pitty
and compaſſion: whereby I ſhal ſay, that as your diuine beauty enflamed
mine affections, euen ſo it extended ſuch a mercifull qualification, as exceeded
all my hope, but not the halfe part of your pitty.
Admit (miracle of Ladies) that I ſhould die in this diſtreſſe: Alas,
my death would be but your diſhonour; I cannot be termed mine owne
murtherer, when the Dart came from your eye that did it, and muſt remaine
a witneſſe of your rigour. You cannot then chuſe but call to
minde, and ſay within your owne ſoule: Alas! what a ſinne haue I committed,
in being ſo vnmercifull to my Magnifico. Repentance then ſerues
to no purpoſe, but you muſt anſwere for ſuch vnkinde cruelty. Wherefore,
to preuent ſo blacke a ſcandall to your bright beauty, beſide the
ceaſeleſſe acclamations, which will dogge your walkes in the day time,
and breake your quiet ſleepes in the night ſeaſon, with fearefull ſights and
gaſtly apparitions, houering and haunting about your bed; let all theſe
〈◊〉
you to milde mercy, and ſpill not life, when you may ſaue it.
So the Magnifico ceaſing, with teares ſtreaming from his eyes, and
ſi
•
hes breaking from his heart, he ſate ſtill in exſpectation of the Ladies
anſwere, who made neither long or ſhort of the matter, neither Tilts nor
Tourneying, nor many loſt mornings and euenings, nor infinite other
ſuch like offices, which the Magnifico (for her ſake) from time to time
had ſpent in vaine, without the leaſt ſhew of acceptation, or any hope at
all to winne her loue: Moued now in this very houre, by theſe ſolemne
proteſtations, or rather moſt preuailing aſſeuerations; ſhe began to finde
that in her, which (before) ſhe neuer felt, namely Loue. And although
(to keepe her promiſe made to her husband) ſhee ſpake not a word: yet
her heart heauing, her ſoule throbbing, ſighes intermixing, and complexion
altering, could not hide her intended anſwere to the Magnifico,
if promiſe had beene no hinderance to her will. All this while the Magnifico
ſate as mute as ſhe, and ſeeing ſhe would not giue him any anſwere
at all; he could not chuſe but wonder thereat, yet at length perceiued,
that it was thus cunningly contriued by her husband. Notwithſtanding,
obſeruing well her countenance, that it was in a quite contrary temper,
another kinde of fire ſparkling in her eye, other humours flowing, her
pulſes ſtrongly beating, her ſtomack riſing, and ſighes ſwelling; all theſe
were arguments of a change, and motiues to aduance his hope. Taking
courage by this tickling perſwaſion, and inſtructing his minde with a new
kinde of counſell: he would needes anſwere himſelfe on her behalfe, and
as if ſhe had vttered the words, he ſpake in this manner.
Magnifico, and my friend, ſurely it is a long time ſince, when I firſt
noted thine affection towards me, to be very great and moſt perfect: but
now I am much more certaine thereof, by thine owne honeſt and gentle
ſpeeches, which content me as they ought to doe. Neuertheleſſe, if heretofore
I haue ſeemed cruell and vnkinde to thee, I would not haue thee
thinke, that my heart was any way guilty of my outward ſeuerity; but did
euermore loue thee, and held thee dearer then any man liuing. But yet
it became me to doe ſo, as well in feare of others, as for the renowne of
mine owne reputation. But now the time is at hand, to let thee know
more clearely, whether I doe affect thee or no: as a iuſt guerdon of thy
conſtant loue, which long thou haſt, and ſtill doeſt beare to me. Wherefore
comfort thy ſelfe, and dwell vpon this vndoubted hope, becauſe Signior
Franceſco my husband, is to be abſent hence for many dayes, being
choſen Podesta at Millaine, as thou canſt not chuſe but heare, for it is
common through the Country.
I know (for my ſake) thou haſt giuen him thy goodly ambling Gelding,
and ſo ſoone as hee is gone, I promiſe thee vpon my word, and by
the faithfull loue I beare thee: that I will haue further conference with
thee, and let thee vnderſtand ſomewhat more of my minde. And becauſe
this is neither fitting time nor place, to diſcourſe on matters of ſuch
ſerious moment; obſerue heereafter, as a ſignall, when thou ſeeſt my
crimſon skarfe hanging in the window of my Chamber, which is vpon
the Garden ſide; that euening (ſo ſoone as it is night) come to the Garden
gate, with wary reſpect, that no eye doe diſcouer thee, and there thou
ſhalt finde me walking, and ready to acquaint thee with other matters, according
as I ſhall finde occaſion.
When the Magnifico, in the perſon of the Lady, had ſpoken thus, then
hee returned her this anſwere. Moſt vertuous Lady, my ſpirits are ſo
tranſported with extraordinary ioy, for this your gracious and welcome
anſwere; that my ſences ſo fayle mee, and all my faculties quite forſake
me, as I cannot giue you ſuch thankes as I would. And if I could ſpeake
equally to my deſire, yet the ſeaſon ſutes not therewith, neither were
it conuenient that I ſhould be ſo troubleſome to you. Let me therefore
humbly beſeech you, that the deſire I haue to accompliſh your will
(which words auaile not to expreſſe) may remaine in your kinde conſideration.
And, as you haue commaunded me, ſo will I not faile to performe
it accordingly, and in more thankfull manner, then as yet I am
able to let you know. Now there reſteth nothing elſe to doe, but, vnder
the protection of your gracious pardon, I to giue ouer ſpeech, and you
to attend your worthy husband.
Notwithſtanding all that hee had ſpoken, yet ſhee replied not one
word, wherefore the Magnifico aroſe, and returned to the Knight, who
went to meete him, ſaying in a loude laughter. How now man? haue I
not kept my promiſe with thee? No Sir, anſwered the Magnifico, for you
promiſed I ſhould ſpeake with your wife, and you haue made mee talke
to a marble Statue. This anſwere was greatly pleaſing to the Knight,
who, although hee had an vndoubted opinion of his wife; yet this did
much more ſtrengthen his beliefe, and hee ſaid. Now thou confeſſeſt
thy Gelding to bee mine? I doe, replied the Magnifico, but if I had
thought, that no better ſucceſſe would haue enſued on the bargaine;
without your motion for the horſe, I would haue giuen him you: and I
am ſorie that I did not, becauſe now you haue bought my horſe, and yet I
haue not ſold him. The Knight laughed heartily at this anſwere, and being
thus prouided of ſo faire a beaſt, he rode on his iourney to Millaine,
and there entred into his authory of Podesta.
The Lady remained now in liberty at home, conſidering on the Magnificoes
words, and likewiſe the Gelding, which (for her ſake) was giuen to
her husband. Oftentimes ſhee ſaw him paſſe to and fro before her windowe,
ſtill looking when the Flagge of defiance ſhould be hanged forth,
that hee might fight valiantly vnder her Colours. The Story ſaith, that
among many of her much better meditations, ſhe was heard to talke thus
idely to her ſelfe. What doe I meane? Wherefore is my youth? The
olde miſerable man is gone to Millaine, and God knoweth when hee
comes backe againe, euer, or neuer. Is dignity preferred before wedlockes
holy duty, and pleaſures abroade, more then comforts at home?
Ill can age pay youths arrerages, when time is ſpent, and no hope ſparde.
Actions omitted, are often times repented, but done in due ſeaſon, they
are ſildome ſorrowed for. Vpon theſe vn-Lady-like priuate conſultations,
whether the window ſhewed the ſignall or no; it is no matter belonging
to my charge: I ſay, husbands are vnwiſe, to graunt ſuch ill aduantages,
and wiues much worſe, if they take hold of them, onely iudge
you the beſt, and ſo the Tale is ended.
Ricciardo Minutolo fell in loue with the Wife of Philippello Fighinolfi, and knowing her to be very iealous of her Husband, gaue her to vnderſtand, that he was greatly enamoured of his Wife, and had appointed to meete her priuately in a Bathing houſe, on the next day following: Where ſhe hoping to take him tardie with his cloſe compacted Miſtreſſe, found her ſelfe to be deceiued by the ſaid Ricciardo.
The ſixth Nouell.
Declaring, how much perſeuerance, and a couragious ſpirit is auaileable in loue.
NO more remained to be ſpoken by Madame Eliza, but the cunning
of the Magnifico, being much commended by all the company: the
Queene commanded Madame Fiammetta, to ſucceede next in order with
one of her Nouels, who (ſmilingly) made anſwere that ſhe would, and
began thus. Gracious Ladies, me thinkes wee haue ſpoken enough already,
concerning our owne Citie, which as it aboundeth copiouſly in all
commodities, ſo is it an example alſo to euery conuenient purpoſe. And
as Madam Eliza hath done, by recounting occaſions happening in another
World, ſo muſt we now leape a little further off, euen ſo farre as Naples,
to ſee how one of thoſe Saint-like Dames, that nicely ſeemes to ſhun
Loues allurings, was guided by the good ſpirit to a friend of hers, and taſted
of the fruite, before ſhee knew the flowers. A ſufficient warning for
you, to apprehend before hand, what may follow after; and to let you ſee
beſide, that when an errour is committed, how to be diſcreete in keeping
it from publike knowledge.
In the City of Naples, it being
of great antiquity, and (perhaps)
as pleaſantly ſcituated, as any
other City in all Italie, there
dwelt ſometime a young Gentleman,
of noble parentage, and
well knowne to be wealthy, named
Ricciardo Minutolo, who, although
hee had a Gentlewoman
(of excellent beauty, and worthy
the very kindeſt affecting) to his
wife; yet his gadding eye gazed
elſe-where, and he became enamoured
of another, which (in
generall opinion) ſurpaſſed all
the Neapolitane women elſe, in
feature, fauour, and the choyſeſt
perfections, ſhee being named
Madam Catulla, wife to as gallant
a young Gentleman, called Philippello Fighinolfi, who moſt dearely he loued
beyond all other, for her vertue and admired chaſtity.
Ricciardo louing this Madam Catulla, and vſing all ſuch meanes, whereby
the grace and liking of a Lady might be obtained; found it yet a matter
beyond poſſibility, to compaſſe the height of his deſire: ſo that many
deſperate and dangerous reſolutions beleagred his braine, ſeeming ſo intricate,
and vnlikely to affoord any hopefull iſſue, as he wiſhed for nothing
more then death. And death (as yet) being deafe to all his earneſt
imprecations, delayed him on in lingering afflictions, and continuing
ſtill in ſuch an extreame condition, he was aduiſed by ſome of his beſt
friends, vtterly to abſtaine from this fond purſuite, becauſe his hopes were
meerely in vaine, and Madam Catulla prized nothing more precious to
her in the World, then vnſtayned loyaltie to her Husband; and yet ſhee
liued in ſuch extreme iealouſie of him, as fearing leaſt ſome bird flying in
the Ayre, ſhould ſnatch him from her.
Ricciardo not vnacquainted with this her iealous humour, as well by
credible hearing thereof, as alſo by daily obſeruation; began to conſider
with himſelfe, that it were beſt for him, to diſſemble amorous affection
in ſome other place, and (hence-forward) to ſet aſide all hope, of euer enioying
the loue of Madam Catulla, becauſe he was now become the ſeruant
to another Gentlewoman, pretending (in her honour) to performe
many worthy actions of Armes, Iouſts, Tournaments, and all ſuch like
noble exerciſes, as he was wont to doe for Madam Catulla. So that almoſt
all the people of Naples, but eſpecially Madam Catulla, became verily perſwaded,
that his former fruitleſſe loue to her was quite changed, and the
new elected Lady had all the glory of his beſt endeauours, perſeuering ſo
long in this opinion, as now it paſſed abſolutely for currant. Thus ſeemed
he now as a meere ſtranger to her, whoſe houſe before he familiarly frequented;
yet (as a neighbour) gaue her the dayes ſalutations, according as
he chanced to ſee her, or meete her.
It came to paſſe, that it being now the delightfull Summer ſeaſon,
when all Gentlemen and Gentlewomen vſed to meete together (according
to a cuſtome long obſerued in that Countrey) ſporting along on the
Sea Coaſt, dining and ſupping there very often. Ricciardo Minutolo happened
to heare, that Madam Catulla (with a company of her friends) intended
alſo to be preſent there among them, at which time, conſorted
with a ſeemely traine of his confederates, he reſorted thither, and was graciouſly welcommed by Madam Catulla, where he pretended no willing
long time of tarrying; but that Catulla and the other Ladies were faine to
entreate him, diſcourſing of his loue to his new elected Miſtreſſe: which
Minutolo graced with ſo ſolemne a countenance, as it miniſtred much
more matter of conference, all coueting to know what ſhee was.
So farre they walked, and held on this kinde of diſcourſing, as euery
Lady and Gentlewoman, waxing weary of too long a continued argument,
began to ſeparate her ſelfe with ſuch an aſſociate as ſhee beſt liked,
and as in ſuch walking women are wont to doe; ſo that Madam Catulla
hauing few females left with her, ſtayed behind with Minutolo, who ſuddenly
ſhot foorth a word, concerning her husband Philippello, & of his louing
another woman beſide her ſelfe. She that was ouermuch iealous before,
became ſo ſuddenly ſet on fire, to know what ſhee was of whom Minutolo
ſpake; as ſhee ſate ſilent a long while, till being able to containe no
longer, ſhee entreated Ricciardo, euen for the Ladies ſake, whoſe loue he
had ſo deuoutly embraced, to reſolue her certainely, in this ſtrange alteration
of her Husband; whereunto thus he anſwered.
Madam, you haue ſo ſtraitly coniured me, by vrging the remembrance
of her; for whoſe ſake I am not able to denie any thing you can demand,
as I am ready therein to pleaſure you. But firſt you muſt promiſe me,
that neither you, or any other perſon for you, ſhall at any time diſcloſe it
to your Husband, vntill you haue ſeene by effect, that which I haue tolde
you proueth to be true: and when you pleaſe, I will inſtruct you how your
ſelfe ſhall ſee it. The Lady was not a little ioyfull, to be thus ſatisfied in
her Husbands follie, and conſtantly crediting his words to be true, ſhee
ſware a ſolemne oath, that no one aliue ſhould euer know it. So ſtepping
a little further aſide, becauſe no liſtening eare ſhould heare him, thus he
beganne.
Lady, if I did loue you now ſo effectually, as heretofore I haue done,
I ſhould be very circumſpect, in vttering any thing which I imagined
might diſtaſte you. I know not whether your Husband Philippello, were
at any time offended; becauſe I affected you, or beleeued, that I receiued
any kindneſſe from you: but whether it were ſo or no, I could neuer diſcerne
it by any outward apparance. But now awaiting for the opportunity
of time, which he conceiued ſhould affoord me the leaſt ſuſpition;
he ſeekes to compaſſe that, which (I doubt) he feares I would haue done
to him, in plaine termes Madam, to haue his pleaſure of my wife. And as
by ſome carriages I haue obſerued, within few dayes paſt, he hath ſolicited
and purſued his purpoſe very ſecretly, by many Ambaſſages, and other
meanes, as (indeede) I haue learned from her ſelfe, and alwayes ſhee hath
returned in ſuch anſwers, as ſhee receiued by my direction.
And no longer agoe Madam, then this very morning, before my comming
hither, I found a woman meſſenger in my Houſe, in very cloſe conference
with my Wife, when growing doubtfull of that which was true
indeede, I called my Wife, enquiring, what the woman would haue with
her, and ſhee tolde me it was another purſuite of Philippello Fighinolfi, who
(quoth ſhee) vpon ſuch anſwers as you haue cauſed me to ſend him from
time to time, perhaps doth gather ſome hope of preuailing in the ende,
which maketh him ſtill to importune me as he doth. And now he aduentureth
ſo farre, as to vnderſtand my finall intention, hauing thus ordered
his complot, that when I pleaſe, I muſt meete him ſecretly in an houſe of
this City, where he hath prepared a Bath ready for me, and hopeth to enioy
the ende of his deſire, as very earneſtly he hath ſolicited me thereto.
But if you had not commanded me, to hold him in ſuſpence with ſo many
friuolous anſwers; I would (long ere this) haue ſent him ſuch a meſſage,
as ſhould haue beene little to his liking.
With patience (Madam) I endured all before, but now (me thinkes)
he proceedeth too farre, which is not any way to be ſuffered; and therefore
I intended to let you know it, whereby you may perceiue, how well
you are rewarded, for the faithfull and loyall loue you beare him, and for
which I was euen at the doore of death. Now, becauſe you may be the ſurer
of my ſpeeches, not to be any lies or fables, and that you may (if you
be ſo pleaſed) approue the trueth by your owne experience: I cauſed my
Wife to ſend him word, that ſhee would meete him to morrow, at the
Bathing-houſe appointed, about the houre of noone-day, when people
repoſe themſelues, in regard of the heates violence; with which anſwere
the woman returned very iocondly. Let me now tell you Lady, I hope
you haue better opinion of my wit, then any meaning in me, to ſend my
wife thither; I rather did it to this ende, that hauing acquainted you with
his treacherous intent, you ſhould ſupply my wiues place, by ſauing both
his reputation and your owne, and fruſtrating his vnkind purpoſe to me.
Moreouer, vpon the view of his owne deluſion, wrought by my wife in
meere loue to you, he ſhall ſee his foule ſhame, and your moſt noble care,
to keepe the rites of marriage betweene you ſtill vnſtained.
Madame Catulla, hauing heard this long and vnpleaſing report; without
any conſideration, either what he was that tolde the tale, or what a
treaſon he intended againſt her: immediately (as iealous perſons vſe to
doe) ſhe gaue faith to his forgerie, and began to diſcourſe many things
to him, which imagination had often miſguided her in, againſt her honeſt
minded husband, and enflamed with rage, ſuddenly replied; that ſhee
would doe according as he had aduiſed her, as being a matter of no difficulty.
But if he came, ſhe would ſo ſhame and diſhonour him, as no woman
whatſoeuer ſhould better ſchoole him. Ricciardo highly pleaſed
herewith, & being perſwaded, that his purpoſe would take the full effect:
confirmed the Lady in her determination with many words more; yet
putting her in memory, to keepe her faithfull promiſe made, without
reuealing the matter to any liuing perſon, as ſhee had ſworne vpon her
faith.
On the morrow morning, Ricciardo went to an auncient woman of his
acquaintance, who was the Miſtreſſe of a Bathing-houſe, and there where
he had appointed Madame Catulla, that the Bath ſhould be prepared for
her, giuing her to vnderſtand the whole buſineſſe, and deſiring her to be
fauourable therein to him. The woman, who had beene much beholding
to him in other matters, promiſed very willingly to fulfill his requeſt,
concluding with him, both what ſhould be done and ſaid. She had in her
houſe a very darke Chamber, without any window to affoord it the leaſt
light, which Chamber ſhee had made ready, according to Ricciardoes direction,
with a rich Bed therein, ſo ſoft and delicate as poſſible could be,
wherein he entred ſo ſoone as he had dined, to attend the arriuall of Madame
Catulla. On the ſame day, as ſhe had heard the ſpeeches of Ricciardo,
and gaue more credit to them then became her; ſhee returned home
to her houſe in wonderfull impatience. And Philippello her husband
came home diſcontentedly too, whoſe head being buſied about ſome
worldly affaires, perhaps he looked not ſo pleaſantly, neither vſed her ſo
kindly, as he was wont to doe. Which Catulla perceiuing, ſhee was ten
times more ſuſpicious then before, ſaying to her ſelfe. Now apparant
trueth doth diſcloſe it ſelfe, my husbands head is troubled now with
nothing elſe, but Ricciardoes wife, with whom (to morrow) he purpoſeth
his meeting; wherein he ſhall be diſappointed, if I liue; taking no reſt at
all the whole night, for thinking how to handle her husband.
What ſhall I ſay more? On the morrow, at the houre of mid-day,
accompanied onely with her Chamber-mayde, and without any other
alteration in opinion; ſhee went to the houſe where the Bath was promiſed,
and meeting there with the olde woman, demaunded of her, if
Philippello were come thither as yet or no? The woman, being well inſtructed
by Ricciardo, anſwered: Are you ſhee that ſhould meete him
heere. Yes, replied Catulla. Goe in then to him (quoth the woman) for
he is not farre off before you.
Madame Catulla, who went to ſeeke that which ſhe would not finde,
being brought vailed into the darke Chamber where Ricciardo was, entred
into the Bath, hoping to finde none other there but her husband,
and the cuſtome of the Countrey, neuer diſallowed ſuch meetings of
men with their wiues, but held them to be good and commendable. In
a counterfeit voyce he bad her welcome, and ſhe, not ſeeming to be any
other then ſhe was indeed, entertained his embracings in as louing manner;
yet not daring to ſpeake, leaſt he ſhould know her, but ſuffered him
to proceede in his owne errour.
Let paſſe the wanton follies paſſing betweene them, and come to
Madame Catulla, who finding it a fit and conuenient time, to vent forth
the tempeſt of her ſpleene, began in this manner. Alas! how mighty
are the misfortunes of women, and how ill requited is the loyall loue, of
many wiues to their husbands? I, a poore miſerable Lady, who, for the
ſpace of eight yeares now fully compleated, haue loued thee more
dearely then mine owne life, finde now (to my hearts endleſſe griefe)
how thou waſteſt and conſumeſt thy deſires, to delight them with a
ſtrange woman, like a moſt vile and wicked man as thou art. With
whom doeſt thou now imagine thy ſelfe to be? Thou art with her, whom
thou haſt long time deluded by falſe blandiſhments, feigning to affect
her, when thou doateſt in thy deſires elſe-where. I am thine owne
Catulla, and not the wife of Ricciardo, trayterous and vnfaithfull man,
as thou art. I am ſure thou knoweſt my voyce, and I thinke it a thouſand
yeares, vntill wee may ſee each other in the light, to doe thee ſuch
diſhonour as thou iuſtly deſerueſt, dogged, diſdainefull, and villainous
wretch. By conceiuing to haue another woman in the wanton embraces,
thou haſt declared more iouiall diſpoſition, and demonſtrations of
farre greater kindneſſe, then domeſticke familiarity. At home thou
lookeſt ſower, ſullen or ſurly, often froward, and ſildome well pleaſed.
But the beſt is, whereas thou intendeſt this husbandrie for another mans
ground, thou haſt (againſt thy will) beſtowed it on thine owne, and the
water hath runne a contrary courſe, quite from the current where thou
meantſt it.
What anſwere canſt thou make, deuill, and no man? What, haue
my words ſmitten thee dumbe? Thou mayeſt (with ſhame enough) hold
thy peace, for with the face of a man, and loue of an husband to his wife,
thou art not able to make any anſwere.
Ricciardo durſt not ſpeake one word, but ſtill expreſſed his affable behauiour
towards her, beſtowing infinite embraces and kiſſes on her:
which ſo much the more augmented her rage and anger, continuing on
her chiding thus. If by theſe flatteries and idle follies, thou hopeſt to
comfort or pacifie me, thou runneſt quite by as from thy reckoning: for
I ſhall neuer imagine my ſelfe halfe ſatisfied, vntill in the preſence of
my parents, friends, and neighbours, I haue reuealed thy baſe behauiour.
Tell mee, treacherous man, am not I as faire, as the wife of Ricciardo?
Am I not as good a Gentlewoman borne, as ſhee is? What
canſt thou more reſpect in her, then is in mee? Villaine, monſter, why
doeſt thou not anſwere mee? I will ſend to Ricciardo, who loueth mee
beyond all other women in Naples, and yet could neuer vaunt, that I gaue
him ſo much as a friendly looke: he ſhall know, what a diſhonour thou
hadſt intended towards him; which both he and his friends will reuenge
ſoundly vpon thee.
The exclamations of the Lady were ſo tedious and irkſome, that Ricciardo
perceiuing, if ſhe continued longer in theſe complaints, worſe would
enſue thereon, then could be eaſily remedied: reſolued to make himſelfe
knowne to her, to reclaime her out of this violent extaſie, and holding
her ſomewhat ſtrictly, to preuent her eſcaping from him, he ſaid. Madam,
afflict your ſelfe no further, for, what I could not obtaine by ſimply louing
you, ſubtilty hath better taught me, and I am your Ricciardo, which
ſhe hearing, and perfectly knowing him by his voyce; ſhee would haue
leapt out of the Bath, but ſhee could not, and to auoyde her crying out,
he layde his hand on her mouth, ſaying. Lady, what is done, cannot now
be vndone, albeit you cried out all your life time. If you exclaime, or
make this knowne openly by any meanes; two vnauoydable dangers
muſt needes enſue thereon. The one (which you ought more carefully
to reſpect) is the wounding of your good renowne and honour, becauſe,
when you ſhall ſay, that by treacherie I drew you hither: I will boldly
maintaine the contrary, auouching, that hauing corrupted you with
gold, and not giuing you ſo much as couetouſly you deſired; you grew
offended, and thereon made the out-cry, and you are not to learne, that
the world is more eaſily induced to beleeue the worſt, then any goodneſſe,
be it neuer ſo manifeſt. Next vnto this, mortall hatred muſt ariſe
betweene your husband and me, and (perhaps) I ſhall as ſoone kill him,
as he mee; whereby you can hardly liue in any true contentment after.
Wherefore, ioy of my life, doe not in one moment, both ſhame your
ſelfe, and cauſe ſuch perill betweene your husband and me: for you are
not the firſt, neither can be the laſt, that ſhall be deceiued. I haue not beguiled
you, to take any honour from you, but onely declared, the faithfull
affection I beare you, and ſo ſhall doe for euer, as being your bounden
and moſt obedient ſeruant; and as it is a long time agoe, ſince I dedicated
my ſelfe and all mine to your ſeruice, ſo hence-forth muſt I remaine
for euer. You are wiſe enough (I know) in all other things; then
ſhew your ſelfe not to be ſilly or ſimple in this.
Ricciardo vttered theſe words, teares ſtreaming aboundantly downe
his cheekes, and Madame Catulla (all the while) likewiſe ſhowred forth
her ſorrowes equally to his, now, although ſhe was exceedingly troubled
in minde, and ſaw what her owne iealous folly had now brought her to,
a ſhame beyond all other whatſoeuer: in the midſt of her tormenting
paſſions, ſhe conſidered on the words of Ricciardo, found good reaſon in
them, in regard of the vnauoydable euils, whereupon ſhee thus ſpake.
Ricciardo, I know not how to beare the horrible iniurie, and notorious
treaſon vſed by thee againſt me, grace and goodneſſe hauing ſo forſaken
me, to let me fall in ſo foule a manner. Nor becommeth it me, to make
any noyſe or out-cry heere, whereto ſimplicity, or rather deuilliſh iealouſie,
did conduct me. But certaine I am of one thing, that I ſhall neuer
ſee any one ioyfull day, till (by one meanes or other I be reuenged on
thee. Thou haſt glutted thy deſire with my diſgrace, let me therefore goe
from thee, neuer more to looke vpon my wronged husband, or let any
honeſt woman euer ſee my face.
Ricciardo perceiuing the extremity of her perplexed minde, vſed all
manly and milde perſwaſions, which poſſibly he could deuiſe to doe, to
turne the torrent of this high tide, to a calmer courſe; as by outward ſhew
ſhee made apparance of, vntill (in frightfull feares ſhunning euery one
ſhee met withall, as arguments of her guiltineſſe) ſhee recouered her
owne houſe, where remorſe ſo tortured her diſtreſſed ſoule, that ſhee fell
into ſo fierce a melancholy, as neuer left her till ſhee died. Vpon the report
whereof, Ricciardo becomming likewiſe a widdower, and grieuing
extraordinarily for his haynous tranſgreſſion, penitently betooke himſelfe
to liue in a wilderneſſe, where (not long after) he ended his dayes.
Thebaldo Eliſei, hauing receiued an vnkinde repulſe by his beloued, departed from Florence, and returning thither againe (a long while after) in the habite of a Pilgrime; he ſpake with her, and made his wrongs knowne vnto her. He deliuered her Husband from the danger of death, becauſe it was proued, that he had ſlaine Thebaldo: he made peace with his brethren, and in the ende, wiſely enioyed his hearts deſire.
The ſeauenth Nouell.
Wherein is ſignified the power of Loue, and the diuerſity of dangers, whereinto men may daily fall.
SO ceaſed Fiametta her diſcourſe,
being generally commended,
when the Queene, to
preuent the loſſe of time, commanded
Aemillia to follow next,
who thus began. It liketh me beſt
(gracious Ladies) to returne
home againe to our owne City,
which it pleaſed the former two
diſcourſers to part from: And
there I will ſhew you, how a Citizen
of ours, recouered the kindneſſe
of his Loue, after he had
loſt it.
Sometime there dwelt in Florence
a young gentleman, named
Thebaldo Eliſci, deſcended of a
noble Houſe, who became earneſtly
enamored of a Widdow, called Hermelina, the daughter to Aldobrandino
Palermini: well deſeruing, for his vertues and commendable
qualities, to enioy of her whatſoeuer he could deſire. Secretly they were
eſpouſed together, but Fortune, the enemy to Louers felicities, oppoſed
her malice againſt them, in depriuing Thebaldo of thoſe deare delights,
which ſometime he held in free poſſeſſion, and making him as a ſtranger
to her gracious fauours. Now grew ſhee contemptibly to deſpiſe him,
not onely denying to heare any meſſage ſent from him, but ſcorning alſo
to vouchſafe ſo much as a ſight of him, cauſing in him extreme griefe and
melancholy, yet concealing all her vnkindneſſe ſo wiſely to himſelfe, as
no one could vnderſtand the reaſon of his ſadneſſe.
After he had laboured by all hopefull courſes, to obtaine that fauour
of her, which he had formerly loſt, without any offence in him, as his innocent
ſoule truly witneſſed with him, and ſaw that all his further endeauours
were fruitleſſe and in vaine; he concluded to retreate himſelfe from
the World, and not to be any longer irkeſome in her eye, that was the
onely occaſion of his vnhappineſſe. Hereupon, ſtoring himſelfe with
ſuch ſummes of money, as ſuddenly he could collect together, ſecretly he
departed from Florence, without ſpeaking any word to his friends or kindred;
except one kind companion of his, whom he acquainted with moſt
of his ſecrets, and ſo trauelled to Ancona, where he termed himſelfe by the
name of Sandoleſcio. Repairing to a wealthy Merchant there, he placed
himſelfe as his ſeruant, and went in a Ship of his with him to Cyprus; his
actions and behauiour proued ſo pleaſing to the Merchant, as not onely
he allowed him very ſufficient wages, but alſo grew into ſuch aſſociation
with him; as he gaue the moſt of his affaires into his hands, which he guided
with ſuch honeſt and diſcreete care, that he himſelfe (in few yeeres
compaſſe) proued to be a rich Merchant, and of famous report.
While matters went on in this ſucceſſefull manner, although he could
not chuſe, but ſtill he remembred his cruell Miſtreſſe, and was very deſperately
tranſported for her loue, as coueting (aboue all things e
•
ſe) to ſee
her once more; yet was he of ſuch powerfull conſtancy, as 7. whole yeers
together, he vanquiſhed all thoſe fierce conflicts. But on a day it chanced
he heard a ſong ſung in Cyprus, which he himſelfe had formerly made, in
honour of the loue he bare to his Miſtreſſe, and what delight he conceiued,
by being daily in her preſence; whereby he gathered, that it was impoſſible
for him to forget her, and proceeded on ſo deſirouſly, as he could
not liue, except he had a ſight of her once more, and therefore determined
on his returne to Florence. Hauing ſet all his affaires in due order, accompanied
with a ſeruant of his onely, he paſſed to Ancona, where when
he was arriued, he ſent his Merchandiſes to Florence, in name of the Merchant
of Ancona, who was his eſpeciall friend and partner; trauayling himſelfe
alone with his ſeruant, in the habite of a Pilgrime, as if he had beene
newly returned from Ieruſalem.
Being come to Florence, he went to an Inne kept by two bretheren,
neere neighbours to the dwelling of his Miſtreſſe, and the firſt thing he
did, was paſſing by her doore, to get a ſight of her if he were ſo happie.
But he found the windowes, doores, and all parts of the houſe faſt ſhut
vp, whereby he ſuſpected her to be dead, or elſe to be changed from her
dwelling: wherefore (much perplexed in minde) he went on to the two
brothers Inne, finding foure perſons ſtanding at the gate, attired in mourning,
whereat he maruelled not a little; knowing himſelfe to be ſo tranſfigured,
both in body and habite, farre from the manner of common vſe
at his parting thence, as it was a difficult matter to know him: he ſtept
boldly to a Shooe-makers ſhop neere adioyning, and demanded the reaſon
of their wearning mourning. The Shoo-maker made anſwer thus; Sir,
thoſe men are clad in mourning, becauſe a brothers of theirs, being named
Thebaldo (who hath beene abſent hence a long while) about ſome fifteene
dayes ſince was ſlaine. And they hauing heard, by proofe made in
the Court of Inſtice, that one Aldobrandino Palermini (who is kept cloſe
priſoner) was the murtherer of him, as he came in a diſguiſed habite to his
daughter, of whom he was moſt affectionately enamoured; cannot chuſe,
but let the World know by their outward habites, the inward affliction
of their hearts, for a deede ſo diſhonourably committed.
Thebaldo wondered greatly hereat, imagining, that ſome man belike reſembling
him in ſhape, might be ſlaine in this manner, and by Aldobr andino,
for whoſe misfortune he grieued maruellouſly. As concerning his
Miſtreſſe, he vnderſtood that ſhee was liuing, and in good health; and
night drawing on apace, he went to his lodging, with infinite moleſtations
in his minde, where after ſupper, he was lodged in a Corne-loft with
his man. Now by reaſon of many diſturbing imaginations, which inceſſantly
wheeled about his braine, his bed alſo being none of the beſt, and
his ſupper (perhaps) ſomewhat of the courſeſt; a great part of the night
was ſpent, yet could he not cloſe his eyes together. But lying ſtill broade
awake, about the dead time of night, he heard the treading of diuers perſons
ouer his head, who diſcended downe a paire of ſtayres by his Chamber,
into the lower parts of the houſe, carrying a light with them, which
he diſcerned by the chinkes and crannies in the wall. Stepping ſoftly out
of his bed, to ſee what the meaning hereof might be, he eſpied a faire
young woman, who carried the light in her hand, and three men in her
company, deſcending downe the ſtayres together, one of them ſpeaking
thus to the young woman. Now we may boldly warrant our ſafety, becauſe
we haue heard it aſſuredly, that the death of Thebaldo Eliſei, hath
beene ſufficiently approued by the Brethren, againſt Aldobrandino Palermini,
and he hath confeſſed the fact; whereupon the ſentence is already
ſet downe in writing. But yet it behoueth vs notwithſtanding, to conceale
it very ſecretly, becauſe if euer hereafter it ſhould be knowne, that
we are they who murthered him, we ſhall be in the ſame danger, as now
Aldobrandino is.
When Thebaldo had heard theſe words, hee began to conſider with
himſelfe, how many and great the dangers are, wherewith mens minds
may daily be moleſted. Firſt, he thought on his owne brethren in their
ſorrow, and buried a ſtranger in ſteed of him, accuſing afterward (by falſe
opinion, and vpon the teſtimony of as falſe witneſſes) a man moſt innocent,
making him ready for the ſtroke of death. Next, he made a ſtrict obſeruation
in his ſoule, concerning the blinded ſeuerity of Law, and the
Miniſters thereto belonging, who pretending a diligent and carefull inquiſition
for trueth, doe oftentimes (by their tortures and torments) heare
lies auouched (onely for
•
aſe of paine) in the place of a true confeſſion,
yet thinking themſelues (by doing ſo) to be the Miniſters of God and Iuſtice,
whereas indeede they are the Diuels executioners of his wickedneſſe.
Laſtly, conuerting his thoughts to Aldobrandino, the imagined murtherer
of a man yet liuing, infinite cares beleagured his ſoule, in deuiſing
what might beſt be done for his deliuerance.
So ſoone as he was riſen in the morning, leauing his ſeruant behinde
him in his lodging, he went (when he thought it fit time) all alone toward
the houſe of his Miſtreſſe, where finding by good fortune the gate open,
he entred into a ſmall Parlour beneath, and where he ſaw his Miſtreſſe
ſitting on the ground, wringing her hands, and wofully weeping,
which (in meere compaſſion) moued him to weepe likewiſe; and going
ſomewhat neere her, he ſaide. Madam, torment your ſelfe no more, for
your peace is not farre off from you. The Gentlewoman hearing him
ſay ſo, lifted vp her head, and in teares ſpake thus. Good man, thou ſeemeſt
to me to be a Pilgrim ſtranger; what doeſt thou know, either concerning
my peace, or mine affliction? Madam (replied the Pilgrime) I
am of Constantinople, and (doubtleſſe) am conducted hither by the hand
of Heauen, to conuert your teares into reioycing, and to deliuer your Father
from death. How is this? anſwered ſhee: If thou be of Constantinople,
and art but now arriued here; doeſt thou know who we are, either I,
or my Father?
The Pilgrime diſcourſed to her, euen from one end to the other, the
hiſtory of her Husbands ſad diſaſters, telling her, how many yeeres ſince
ſhee was eſpouſed to him, and many other important matters, which wel
ſhee knew, and was greatly amazed thereat, thinking him verily to be a
Prophet, and kneeling at his feete, entreated him very earneſtly, that if
hee were come to deliuer her Father Aldobrandino from death, to doe it
ſpeedily, becauſe the time was very ſhort. The Pilgrime appearing to be
a man of great holineſſe, ſaide. Riſe vp Madam, refraine from weeping,
and obſerue attentiuely what I ſhall ſay; yet with this caution, that you
neuer reueale it to any perſon whatſoeuer. This tribulation whereinto
you are falne, (as by reuelation I am faithfully informed) is for a grieuous
ſinne by you heretofore committed, whereof diuine mercy is willing to
purge you, and to make a perfect amends by a ſenſible feeling of this affliction;
as ſeeking your ſound and abſolute recouery, leaſt you fall into
farre greater danger then before. Good man (quoth ſhee) I am burthened
with many ſinnes, and doe not know for which any amends ſhould
be made by me, any one ſooner then another: wherefore if you haue intelligence
thereof, for charities ſake tell it me, and I will doe ſo much as
lieth in me, to make a full ſatisfaction for it. Madam, anſwered the Pilgrime;
I know well enough what it is, and will demand it no more of you,
to winne any further knowledge thereof, then I haue already: but becauſe
in reuealing it your ſelfe, it may touch you with the more true
compunction of ſoule; let vs goe to the point indeede, and tell me, doe
you remember, that at any time you were married to an Husband,
or no?
At the hearing of theſe words, ſhee breathed foorth a very vehement
ſigh, and was ſtricken with admiration at this queſtion, beleeuing that not
any one had knowledge thereof. Howbeit, ſince the day of the ſuppoſed
Thebaldoes buriall, ſuch a rumour ran abroade, by meanes of ſome ſpeeches,
raſhly diſperſed by a friend of Thebaldoes, who (indeede) knew it;
whereupon ſhee returned him this anſwere. It appeareth to me (good
man) that diuine ordinatiuation hath reuealed vnto you all the ſecrets of
men; and therefore I am determined, not to conceale any of mine from
you. True it is, that in my younger yeeres, being left a widow, I entirely
affected an vnfortunate young Gentleman, who (in ſecret) was my Huſband,
and whoſe death is impoſed on my Father. The death of him I
haue the more bemoaned, becauſe (in reaſon) it did neerely concerne
me, by ſhewing my ſelfe ſo ſauage and rigorous to him before his departure:
neuertheleſſe, let me aſſure you Sir, that neither his parting, long abſence
from me, or his vntimely death, neuer had the power to bereaue
my heart of his remembrance.
Madame, ſaide the Pilgrime, the vnfortunate young Gentleman that
is ſlaine, did neuer loue you; but ſure I am, that Thebaldo Eliſei loued
you dearely. But tell me, what was the occaſion whereby you conceiued
ſuch hatred againſt him? Did he at any time offend you? No trulie
Sir, quoth ſhee; but the reaſon of my anger towards him, was by
the wordes and threatnings of a religious Father, to whom once I reuealed
(vnder confeſſion) how faithfully I affected him, and what priuate
familiarity had paſſed betweene vs. When inſtantly he vſed ſuch
dreadfull threatnings to me, and which (euen yet) doe afflict my ſoule,
that if I did not abſtaine, and vtterly refuſe him, the Diuell would fetch
me quicke to Hell, and caſt me into the bottome of his quenchleſſe and
euerlaſting fire.
Theſe menaces were ſo preuailing with me, as I refuſed all further conuerſation
with Thebaldo, in which regard, I would receiue neither letters
or meſſages from him. Howbeit, I am perſwaded, that if he had continued
here ſtill, and not departed hence in ſuch deſperate manner as he
did, ſeeing him melt and conſume daily away, euen as Snowe by power
of the Sunne-beames: my auſtere deliberation had beene long agoe
quite altered, becauſe not at any time (ſince then) life hath not allowed
me one merry day, neither did I, or euer can loue any man like vnto
him.
At theſe wordes the Pilgrime ſighed, and then proceeded on againe
thus. Surely Madam, this one onely ſin, may iuſtly torment you, becauſe
I know for a certainty, that Thebaldo neuer offered you any iniury, ſince
the day he firſt became enamoured of you; and what grace or fauour
you affoorded him, was your owne voluntary gift, and (as he tooke it) no
more then in modeſty might well become you; for he louing you firſt,
you had beene moſt cruell and vnkinde, if you ſhould not haue requited
him with the like affection. If then he continued ſo iuſt and loyall to you,
as (of mine owne knowledge) I am able to ſay he did; what ſhould moue
you to repulſe him ſo rudely? Such matters ought well to be conſidered
on before hand; for if you did imagine, that you ſhould repeate it as an
action ill done, yet you could not doe it, becauſe as he became yours,
ſo were you likewiſe onely his; and he being yours, you might diſpoſe of
him at your pleaſure, as being truely obliged to none but you. How
could you then with-draw your ſelfe from him, being onely his, and not
commit moſt manifeſt theft, a farre vnfitting thing for you to doe, except
you had gone with his conſent?
Now Madam, let me further giue you to vnderſtand, that I am a religious
perſon, and a pilgrime, and therefore am well acquainted with all
the courſes of their dealing; if therefore I ſpeake ſomewhat more amply
of them, and for your good, it cannot be ſo vnſeeming for me to doe it,
as it would appeare vgly in another. In which reſpect, I will ſpeake the
more freely to you, to the ende, that you may take better knowledge of
them, then (as it ſeemeth) hitherto you haue done. In former paſſed times
ſuch as profeſſed Religion, were learned and moſt holy perſons; but our
religious profeſſours now adayes, and ſuch as coue
•
to be ſo eſteemed;
haue no matter at all of Religion in them, but onely the outward ſhew &
habite. Which yet is no true badge of Religion neither, becauſe it was ordained
by religious inſtitutions, that their garments ſhould be made of
narrow, plaine, and courſeſt ſpun cloth, to make a publike manifeſtation
to the world, that (in meere deuotion, and religious diſpoſition) by wrapping
their bodies in ſuch baſe clothing, they condemned and deſpiſed all
temporall occaſions. But now adayes they make them large, deepe, gliſtering,
and of the fineſt cloth or ſtuffes to be gotten, reducing thoſe habites
to ſo proude and pontificall a forme, that they walke Peacock-like
ruſtling, and ſtrouting with them in the Churches; yea, and in open publike
places, as if they were ordinary ſecular perſons, to haue their pride
more notoriouſly obſerued. And as the Angler beſtoweth his beſt cunning,
with one line and baite to catch many fiſhes at one ſtrike; euen ſo do
theſe counterfeted habite-mongers, by their diſſembling and crafty dealing,
beguile many credulous widowes, ſimple women, yea, and men of
weake capacity, to credit whatſoeuer they doe or ſay, and herein they doe
moſt of all excerciſe themſelues.
And to the end, that my ſpeeches may not ſauour of any vntruth againſt
them; theſe men which I ſpeake of, haue not any habite at all of religious
men, but onely the colour of their garments, and whereas they in times
paſt, deſired nothing more then the ſaluation of mens ſoules; theſe freſher
witted fellowes, couet after women & wealth, and employ all their paines
by their whiſpering confeſſions, and figures of painted feareful examples,
to affright and terrifie vnſetled and weake conſciences, by horrible and
blaſphemous ſpeeches; yet adding a perſwaſion withall, that their ſinnes
may be purged by Almes-deedes and Maſſes. To the end, that ſuch as
credit them in theſe their dayly courſes, being guided more by apparance
of deuotion, then any true compunction of heart, to eſcape ſeuere
penances by them enioyned: may ſome of them bring bread, others
wine, others coyne, all of them matter of commoditie and benefit, and
ſimply ſay, theſe gifts are for the ſoules of their good friends deceaſed.
I make not any doubt, but Almes-deedes and prayers, are very mighty,
and preuailing meanes, to appeaſe heauens anger for ſome ſinnes
committed; but if ſuch as beſtow them, did either ſee or know, to whom
they giue them: they would more warily keepe them, or elſe caſt them
before Swine, in regard they are altogether ſo vnworthy of them. But
come we now to the caſe of your ghoſtly father, crying out in your eare,
that ſecret mariage was a moſt greeuous ſinne: Is not the breach thereof
farre greater. Familiar conuerſation betweene man and woman, is a conceſſion
meerely naturall: but to rob, kill, or baniſh any one, proceedeth
from the mindes malignity. That you did rob Thebaldo, your ſelfe hath
already ſufficiently witneſſed, by taking that from him, which with free
conſent in mariage you gaue him. Next I muſt ſay, that by all the power
remaining in you, you kild him, becauſe you would not permit him to remaine
with you, declaring your ſelfe in the very height of cruelty, that
hee might deſtroy his life by his owne hands. In which caſe the Law requireth,
that whoſoeuer is the occaſion of an ill act committed, hee or
ſhe is as deepe in the fault, as the party that did it. Now concerning his
baniſhment, and wandring ſeauen yeares in exile thorow the world; you
cannot denie, but that you were the onely occaſion thereof. In all which
three ſeuerall actions, farre more capitally haue you offended; then by
contracting of mariage in ſuch clandeſtine manner.
But let vs ſee, whether Thebaldo deſerued all theſe ſeuerall caſtigations,
or not. In trueth he did not, your ſelfe haue confeſſed (beſide that
which I know) that hee loued you more dearely then himſelfe, and nothing
could be more honoured, magnified and exalted, then dayly you
were by him, aboue all other women whatſoeuer. When hee came in
any place, where honeſtly, and without ſuſpition hee might ſpeake to
you: all his honour, and all his liberty, lay wholly committed into your
power. Was he not a noble young Gentleman? Was hee (among all
thoſe parts that moſt adorne a man, and appertaine to the very choyceſt
reſpect) inferiour to any one of beſt merit in your Citie? I know that
you cannot make deniall to any of theſe demands. How could you then
by the perſwaſion of a beaſt, a foole, a villaine, yea, a vagabond, enuying
both his happineſſe and yours, enter into ſo cruell a minde againſt him?
I know not what error miſguideth women, in ſcorning and deſpiſing
their husbands: but if they entred into a better conſideration, vnderſtanding
truly what they are, and what nobility of nature God hath endued
man withall, farre aboue all other creatures; it would bee their
higheſt title of glory, when they are are ſo preciouſly eſteemed of them,
ſo dearely affected by them, and ſo gladly embraced in all their beſt abilities.
This is ſo great a ſinne, as the diuine Iuſtice (which in an equal ballance
bringeth all operations to their full effect) did purpoſe not to leaue vnpuniſhed;
but, as you enforced againſt all reaſon, to take away Thebaldo
from your ſelfe: euen ſo your Father Aldobrandino, without any occaſion
giuen by Thebaldo, is in perill of his life, and you a partaker of his tribulation.
Out of which if you deſire to be deliuered, it is very conuenient that
you promiſe one thing which I ſhall tell you, and may much better be by
you performed. Namely, that if Thebaldo doe at any time returne from
his long baniſhment, you ſhall reſtore him to your loue, grace, and good
acceptation; accounting him in the ſelfe ſame degree of fauour and priuate
entertainement, as he was at the firſt, before you wicked ghoſtly father
ſo helliſhly incenſed you againſt him.
When the Pilgrime had finiſhed his ſpeeches, the Gentlewoman, who
had liſtened to them very attentiuely (becauſe all the all caged reaſons appeared
to be plainely true) became verily perſwaded, that all theſe afflictions
had falne on her and her Father, for the ingratefull offence by her
committed, and therefore thus replied. Worthy man, and the friend to
goodneſſe, I know vndoubtedly, that the words which you haue ſpoken
are true, and alſo I vnderſtand by your demonſtration, what manner of
people ſome of thoſe religious perſons are, whom heretofore I haue reputed
to be Saints, but find them now to be far otherwiſe. And to ſpeake
truly, I perceiue the fault to be great and grieuous, wherein I haue offended
againſt Thebaldo, and would (if I could) willingly make amends, euen
in ſuch manner as you haue aduiſed. But how is it poſſible to be done?
Thebaldo being dead, can be no more recalled to this life; and therefore, I
know not what promiſe I ſhould make, in a matter which is not to be performed.
Whereto, the Pilgrime without any longer pauſing, thus
anſwered.
Madam, by ſuch reuelations as haue beene ſhewne to me, I know for
a certainety, that Thebaldo is not dead, but liuing, in health, and in good
eſtate; if he had the fruition of your grace and fauour. Take heede what
you ſay Sir (quoth the Gentlewoman) for I ſaw him lie ſlaine before my
doore, his body hauing receiued many wounds, which I folded in mine
armes, and waſhed his face with my briniſh teares; whereby (perhaps) the
ſcandall aroſe, that flew abroade to my diſgrace. Beleeue me Madam,
(replied the Pilgrime) ſay what you will, I dare aſſure you that Thebaldo
is liuing, and if you dare make promiſe, concerning what hath beene formerly
requeſted, and keepe it inuiolably; I make no doubt, but you your
ſelfe ſhall ſhortly ſee him. I promiſe it (quoth ſhee) and binde my ſelfe
thereto by a ſacred oath, to keepe it faithfully: for neuer could any
thing happen, to yeeld me the like contentment, as to ſee my Father free
from danger, and Thebaldo liuing.
At this inſtant Thebaldo thought it to be a very apt and conuenient time
to diſcloſe himſelfe, and to comfort the Lady, with an aſſured ſignall of
hope, for the deliuerance of her Father, wherefore he ſaide. Lady, to the
ende that I may comfort you infallibly, in this dangerous perill of your
Fathers life; I am to make knowne an eſpeciall ſecret to you, which you
are to keepe carefully (as you tender your owne life) from euer being reuealed
to the world. They were then in a place of ſufficient priuacy, and
alone by themſelues, becauſe ſhee repoſed great confidence in the Pilgrimes
ſanctity of life, as thinking him none other, then as he ſeemed to
be. Thebaldo tooke out of his Purſe a Ring, which ſhee gaue him, the laſt
night of their conuerſing together, and he had kept with no meane care,
and ſhewing it to her, he ſaide. Doe you know this Ring Madam? So
ſoone as ſhee ſaw it, immediately ſhee knew it, and anſwered. Yes Sir,
I know the Ring, and confeſſe that heretofore I gaue it vnto Thebaldo.
Hereupon the Pilgrime ſtood vp, and ſuddenly putting off his poore
linnen Frocke, as alſo the Hood from his head; vſing then his Florentine
tongue, he ſaide. Then tell me Madam, doe you not know me? When
ſhee had aduiſedly beheld him, and knew him indeede to the Thebaldo; ſhe
was ſtricken into a wonderfull aſtoniſhment, being as fearefull of him, as
ſhee was of the dead body, which ſhee ſaw lying in the ſtreete. And I dare
aſſure you, that ſhee durſt not goe neere him, to reſpect him, as Thebaldo
ſo lately come from Cyprus: but (in terror) fled away from him; as if Thebaldo
had beene newly riſen out of his graue, and came thither purpoſely
to affright her; wherefore he ſaide. Be not afraide Madam, I am your
Thebaldo, in health, aliue, and neuer as yet died, neither haue I receiued
any wounds to kill mee, as you and my brethren haue formerly imagined.
Some better aſſurance getting poſſeſſion of her ſoule, as knowing
him perfectly by his voyce, and looking more ſtedfaſtly on his face, which
conſtantly auouched him to be Thebaldo; the teares trickling amaine
downe her faire cheekes, ſhee ran to embrace him, caſting her armes about
his necke, and kiſſing him a thouſand times, ſaying; Theboldo, my true
and faithful! Husband, nothing in the World can be ſo welcome to me.
Thebaldo hauing moſt kindly kiſſed and embraced her, ſaid; Sweete wife,
time will not now allow vs thoſe ceremonious curteſies, which (indeede)
ſo long a ſeparation doe iuſtly challenge; but I muſt about a more weightie
buſineſſe, to haue your Father ſafe and ſoundly deliuered, which I
hope to doe before to morrow at night, when you ſhall heare tydings to
your better contentment. And queſtionleſſe, if I ſpeede no worſe then
my good hope perſwadeth me, I wil ſee you againe to night, and acquaint
you at better leyſure, in ſuch things as I cannot doe now at this preſent.
So putting on his Pilgrimes habite againe, kiſſing her once more, and
comforting her with future good ſucceſſe, he departed from her, going
to the priſon where Aldobrandino lay, whom he found more penſiue, as
being in hourely expectation of death, then any hope he had to be freed
from it. Being brought neerer to him by the priſoners fauour, as ſeeming
to be a man, come onely to comfort him; ſitting downe by him, thus he
began. Aldobrandino, I am a friend of thine, whom Heauen hath ſent to
doe thee good, in meere pitty and compaſſion of thine innocency. And
therefore, if thou wil
•
grant me one ſmall requeſt, which I am earneſtly
to craue at thy hands; thou ſhalt heare (without any failing) before to
morrow at night, the ſentence of thy free abſolution, whereas now thou
expecteſt nothing but death; whereunto Aldobrandino thus anſwered.
Friendly man, ſeeing thou art ſo carefull of my ſafety (although I know
thee not, neither doe remember that euer I ſaw thee till now) thou muſt
needs (as it appeareth no leſſe) be ſome eſpeciall kind friend of mine. And
to tell thee the trueth, I neuer committed the ſinfull deede, for which I
am condemned to death. Moſt true it is, I haue other heynous and grieuous
ſinnes, which (vndoubtedly) haue throwne this heauy iudgement
vpon me, and therefore I am the more willing to vndergoe. Neuertheleſſe,
let me thus farre aſſure thee, that I would gladly, not onely promiſe
ſomething, which might to the glory of God, if he were pleaſed in this
caſe to take mercy on me; but alſo would as willingly performe and accompliſh
it. Wherefore, demand whatſoeuer thou pleaſeſt of me, for
vnfainedly (if I eſcape with life) I will truly keepe promiſe with thee.
Sir, replied the Pilgrime, I deſire nor demand any thing of you, but
that you wold pardon the foure brethren of Thebaldo, who haue brought
you to this hard extremity, as thinking you to be guilty of their brothers
death, and that you would alſo accept them as your brethren and friends,
vpon their crauing pardon for what they haue done. Sir, anſwered Aldobrandino,
no man knoweth how ſweete reuenge is, nor with what heate
it is to be deſired, but onely the man who hath been wronged. Notwithſtanding,
not to hinder my hope, which onely aymeth at Heauen; I freelie
forgiue them, and henceforth pardon them for euer; intending moreouer,
that if mercy giue me life, and cleere me from this bloody imputation,
to loue and reſpect them ſo long as I ſhall liue. This anſwer was
moſt pleaſing to the Pilgrime, and without any further multiplication of
ſpeeches, he entreated him to be of good comfort, for he feared not but
before the time prefixed, he ſhould heare certaine tydings of his deliuerance.
At his departing from him, he went directly to the Signoria, and preuailed
ſo farre, that he ſpake priuately with a Knight, who was then one
of the States chiefeſt Lords, to whom he ſaide. Sir, a man ought to beſtow
his beſt paines and diligence, that the truth of things ſhould be apparantly
knowne; eſpecially, ſuch men as hold the place and office as you
doe: to the ende, that thoſe perſons which haue committed no foule offence,
ſhould not be puniſhed, but onely the guilty and haynous tranſgreſſors.
And becauſe it will be no meane honor to you, to lay the blame
where it worthily deſerueth; I am come hither purpoſely, to informe you
in a caſe of moſt weighty importance. It is not vnknowne to you, with
what rigour the State hath proceeded againſt Aldobrandino Palermini,
and you thinke verily he is the man that hath ſlaine Thebaldo Eliſei, wherevpon
your law hath condemned him to dye. I dare aſſure you Sir, that a
very vniuſt courſe hath beene taken in this caſe, becauſe Aldobrandino is
falſly accuſed, as you your ſelfe will confeſſe before midnight, when they
are deliuered into your power, that were the murderers of the man.
The honeſt Knight, who was very ſorrowfull for Aldobrandino, gladly
gaue attention to the Pilgrime, and hauing conferred on many matters,
appertaining to the fact committed: the two brethren, who were
Thebaldoes Hoſteſſe, and their Chamber-mayd, vpon good aduiſe giuen,
were apprehended in their firſt ſleepe, without any reſiſtance made in
their defence. But when the tortures were ſent for, to vnderſtand truely
how the caſe went; they would not endure any paine at all, but each aſide
by himſelfe, and then altogether, confeſſed openly, that they did the
deede, yet not knowing him to bee Thebaldo Eliſei. And when it was demanded
of them, vpon what occaſion they did ſo foule an act. They anſwered,
that they were ſo hatefull againſt the mans life, becauſe he would
luxuriouſly haue abuſed one of their wiues, when they both were abſent
from their owne home.
When the Pilgrime had heard this their voluntary confeſſion, hee
tooke his leaue of the Knight, returning ſecretly to the houſe of Madame
Hermelina, and there, becauſe all her people were in their beds, ſhe carefull
awaited his returne, to heare ſome glad tydings of her father, and to
make a further reconciliation betweene her and Thebaldo, when, ſitting
downe by her, hee ſaid. Deare Loue, be of good cheare, for (vpon my
word) to morrow you ſhall haue your father home ſafe, well, and deliuered
from all further danger: and to confirme her the more confidently
in his words, hee declared at large the whole cariage of the buſineſſe.
Hermelina being wondrouſly ioyfull, for two ſuch ſuddaine and ſuccesfull
accidents to enioy her husband aliue and in health, and alſo to haue her
father freed from ſo great a danger; kiſſed and embraced him moſt affectionately,
welcomming him louingly into her bed, whereto ſo long time
he had beene a ſtranger.
No ſooner did bright day appeare, but Thebaldo aroſe, hauing acquainted
her with ſuch matters as were to be done, and once more earneſtly
deſiring her, to conceale (as yet) theſe occurrences to her ſelfe.
So, in his Pilgrimes habite, he departed from her houſe, to awaite conuenient
opportunity, for attending on the buſineſſe belonging to Aldobrandino.
At the vſuall houre appointed, the Lords were all ſet in the
Signioria, and had receiued full information, concerning the offence imputed
to Aldobrandino: ſetting him at liberty by publique conſent, and
ſentencing the other malefactors with death, who (within a fewe dayes
after) were beheaded in the place where the murther was committed.
Thus Aldobrandino being releaſed, to his exceeding comfort, and no
ſmall ioy of his daughters, kindred and friends, all knowing perfectly,
that this had happened by the Pilgrimes meanes: they conducted him
home to Aldobrandinoes houſe, where they deſired him to continue ſo
long as himſelfe pleaſed, vſing him with moſt honourable and gracious
reſpect; but eſpecially Hermelina, who knew (better then the reſt) on
whom ſhee beſtowed her liberall fauours, yet concealing all cloſely to
her ſelfe.
After two or three dayes were ouer-paſt, in theſe complementall entercourſings
of kindneſſe, Thebaldo began to conſider, that it was high
time for reconciliation, to be ſolemnely paſt betweene his brethren and
Aldobrandino. For, they were not a little amazed at his ſtrange deliuerance,
and went likewiſe continually armed, as ſtanding in feare of Aldobrandino
and his friends; which made him the more earneſt, for accompliſhment
of the promiſe formerly made vnto him. Aldobrandino louingly
replied, that he was ready to make good his word. Whereupon,
the Pilgrime prouided a goodly Banquet, whereat he purpoſed to haue
preſent, Aldobrandino, his daughter, kindred, and their wiues. But firſt,
himſelfe would goe in perſon, to inuite them in peace to his Banquet, to
performe this deſired pacification, and conferred with his brethren, vſing
many pregnant and forcible arguments to them, ſuch as are requiſite in
the like diſcordant caſes. In the end, his reaſons were ſo wiſe, and preuailing
with them, that they willingly condiſcended, and thought it no
diſparagement to them, for the recouerie of Aldobrandinoes kindneſſe
againe, to craue pardon for their great error committed.
On the morrow following, about the houre of dinner time, the foure
brethren of Thebaldo, attired in their mourning garments, with their
wiues and friends, came firſt to the houſe of Aldobrandino, who purpoſely
attended for them, and hauing layd downe their weapons on the
ground: in the preſence of all ſuch, as Aldobrandino had inuited as his
witneſſes, they offered themſelues to his mercy, and humbly required
pardon of him, for the matter wherein they had offended him. Aldobrandino,
ſhedding teares, moſt louingly embraced them, and (to bee
briefe) pardon whatſoeuer iniuries he had receiued. After this, the ſiſters
and wiues, all clad in mourning, courteouſly ſubmitted themſelues, and
were graciouſly welcommed by Madame Hermelina, as alſo diuers other
Gentlewomen there preſent with her. Being all ſeated at the Tables,
which were furniſhed with ſuch rarities as could be wiſhed for; all things
elſe deſerued their due commendation, but onely ſad ſilence, occaſioned
by the freſh remembrance of ſorrow, appearing in the habites of Thebaldoes
friends and kindred, which the Pilgrime himſelfe plainely perceiued,
to be the onely diſgrace to him and his feaſt. Wherefore, as before hee
had reſolued, when time ſerued to purge away this melancholly; hee
aroſe from the Table, when ſome (as yet) had ſcarce begun to eate, and
thus ſpake.
Gracious company, there is no defect in this Banquet, and more debarres
it of the honour it might elſe haue, but onely the preſence of Thebaldo,
who hauing beene continually in your company, it ſeemes you are
not willing to take knowledge of him, and therefore I meane my ſelfe to
ſhew him. So, vncaſing himſelfe out of his Pilgrimes clothes, and ſtanding
in his Hoſe and Doublet: to their no little admiration, they all knew
him, yet doubted (a good while) whether it were he or no. Which hee
perceiuing, hee repeated his bretherens and abſent kindreds names, and
what occurrences had happened betweene them from time to time, beſide
the relation of his owne paſſed fortunes, inciting teares in the eyes of
his brethren, and all elſe there preſent, euery one hugging and embracing
him, yea, many beſide, who were no kin at all to him, Hemelina onely excepted,
which when Aldobrandino ſaw, he ſaid vnto her. How now Hermelina?
Why doeſt thou not welcome home Thebaldo, ſo kindely as all
here elſe haue done?
She making a modeſt courteſie to her Father, and anſwering ſo loude
as euery one might heare her, ſaid. There is not any in this aſſembly, that
more willingly would giue him all expreſſion of a ioyfull welcom home,
and thankfull gratitude for ſuch eſpeciall fauours receiued, then in my
heart I could afford to do: but only in regard of thoſe infamous ſpeeches,
noyſed out againſt me, on the day when wee wept for him, who was ſuppoſed
to be Thebaldo, which ſlander was to my great diſcredit. Goe on
boldly, replied Aldobrandino, doeſt thou thinke that I regard any ſuch
praters? In the procuring of my deliuerance, hee hath approued them to
be manifeſt liers, albeit I my ſelfe did neuer credit them. Goe then I command
thee, and let me ſee thee both kiſſe and embrace him. She who dedeſired
nothing more, ſhewed her ſelfe not ſlothfull in obeying her Father,
to do but her duty to her husband. Wherefore, being riſen; as all
the reſt had done, but yet in farre more effectual manner, ſhe declared her
vnfeigned loue to Thebaldo. Theſe bountifull fauours of Aldobrandino,
were ioyfully accepted by Thebaldoes brethren, as alſo euery one elſe there
preſent in company; ſo that all former rancour and hatred, which had
cauſed heauy variances betweene them, was now conuerted to mutuall
kindneſſe, and ſolemne friendſhip on euery ſide.
When the feaſting dayes were finiſhed, the garments of ſad mourning
were quite layde aſide, and thoſe, becomming ſo generall a ioy, put on, to
make their hearts and habites ſuteable. Now, concerning the man ſlaine,
and ſuppoſed to be Thebaldo, hee was one, that in all parts of body, and
trueneſſe of complexion ſo neerely reſembled him, as Thebaldoes owne
brethren could not diſtinguiſh the one from the other: but hee was of
Lunigiana, named Fatinolo, and not Thebaldo, whom the two brethren
Inne-keepers maliced, about ſome idle ſuſpition conceiued, and hauing
ſlaine him, lay de his body at the doore of Aldobrandino, where, by the reaſon
of Thebaldoes abſence, it was generally reputed to be he, and Aldobrandino
charged to doe the deede, by vehement perſwaſion of the brethren,
knowing what loue had paſſed betweene him and his daughter
Hermelina. But happy was the Pilgrimes returne, firſt to heare thoſe
words in the Inne, the meanes to bring the murther to light; and then
the diſcreete cariage of the Pilgrime, vntill hee plainely approued himſelfe,
to be truly Thebaldo.
Ferando, by drinking a certaine kinde of Powder, was buried for dead. And by the Abbot, who was enamoured of his Wife, was taken out of his Graue, and put into a darke priſon, where they made him beleeue, that hee was in Purgatorie. Afterward, when time came that hee ſhould bee raiſed to life againe; hee was made to keepe a childe, which the Abbot had got by his Wife.
The eight Nouell.
Wherein is diſplayed, the apparant folly of Iealouſie: And the ſubtilty of ſome religious carnall minded men, to beguile ſilly and ſimple maried men.
WHen the long diſcourſe
of Madame Aemilia was
ended, not diſpleaſing to any, in
regard of the length, but rather
held too ſhort, becauſe no exceptions
could be taken againſt
it, comparing the raritie of the
accidents, and changes together:
the Queene turned to Madame
Lauretto, giuing her ſuch a
manifeſt ſigne, as ſhe knew, that
it was her turne to follow next,
and therefore ſhee tooke occaſion
to begin thus. Faire Ladies,
I intend to tell you a Tale of
trueth, which (perhaps) in your
opinions, will ſeeme to ſound
like a lye: and yet I heard by the
very laſt relation, that a dead
man was wept and mournd for, in ſted of another being then aliue. In
which reſpect. I am now to let you know, how a liuing man was buried
for dead, and being raiſed againe, yet not as liuing, himſelfe, and diuers
more beſide, did beleeue that he came forth of his graue, and adored him
as a Saint, who was the occaſion thereof, and who (as a bad man) deſerued
iuſtly to be condemned.
In Tuſcanie there was ſometime an Abby, ſeated, as now we ſee commonly
they are, in a place not much frequented with people, and thereof
a Monke was Abbot, very holy and curious in all things elſe, ſaue onely
a wanton appetite to women: which yet hee kept ſo cleanly to himſelfe,
that though ſome did ſuſpect it, yet it was knowne to very few. It came
to paſſe, that a rich Country Franklin, named Ferando, dwelt as a neere
neighbour to the ſaid Abby, hee being a man materiall, of ſimple and
groſſe vnderſtanding, yet he fell into great familiarity with the Abbot;
who made vſe of this friendly conuerſation to no other end, but for diuers
times of recreation, when he delighted to ſmile at his ſilly and ſottiſh behauiour.
Vpon this his priuate frequentation with the Abbot, at laſt he obſerued,
that Ferando had a very beautifull woman to his wife, with whom he
grew ſo deepely in loue, as hee had no other meditations either by day or
night, but how to become acceptable in her fauour. Neuertheleſſe, he concealed
his amorous paſſions priuately to himſelfe, and could plainely perceiue,
that although Ferando (in all things elſe) was meerely a ſimple fellow,
and more like an Idiot, then of any ſenſible apprehenſion: yet was
he wiſe enough in louing his wife, keeping her carefully out of all company,
as one (indeede) very iealous, leaſt any ſhould kiſſe her, but onely
himſelfe, which droue the Abbot into deſpaire, for euer attaining the iſſue
of his deſire. Yet being ſubtill, crafty, and cautelous, he wrought ſo
on the flexible nature of Ferando, that hee brought his wife with him diuers
dayes to the Monaſterie; where they walked in the goodly Garden,
diſcourſing on the beatitudes of eternall life, as alſo the moſt holy deedes
of men and women, long ſince departed out of this life, in meruailous ciuill
and modeſt manner. Yet all theſe were but traines to a further intention,
for the Abbot muſt needes bee her ghoſtly Father, and ſhee
come to be confeſſed by him; which the foole Ferando tooke as an eſpeciall
fauour, and therefore he gaue his conſent the ſooner.
At the appointed time, when the woman came to confeſſion to the
Abbot, and was on her knees before him, to his no ſmall contentment,
before ſhe would ſay any thing elſe, thus ſhe began: Sacred Father, if God
had not giuen me ſuch an husband as I haue, or elſe had beſtowed on me
none at all; I might haue beene ſo happy, by the meanes of your holy doctrine,
very eaſily to haue entred into the way, wherof you ſpake the other
day, which leadeth to eternall life. But when I conſider with my ſelfe,
what manner of man Ferando is, and thinke vpon his folly withall; I may
well terme my ſelfe to be a widdow, although I am a maried wife, becauſe
while he liueth, I cannot haue any other husband. And yet (as ſottiſh
as you ſee him) he is (without any occaſion giuen him) ſo extreamely iealous
of me; as I am not able to liue with him, but onely in continuall tribulation
& hearts griefe. In which reſpect, before I enter into confeſſion,
I moſt humbly beſeech you, that you would vouchſafe (in this diſtreſſe)
to aſſiſt me with your fatherly aduiſe and counſell, becauſe, if thereby I
cannot attaine to a more pleaſing kinde of happineſſe; neither confeſſion,
or any thing elſe, is able to doe me any good at all.
Theſe words were not a little welcome to my Lord Abbot, becauſe
(thereby) he halfe aſſured himſelfe, that Fortune had laid open the path
to his hoped pleaſures, whereupon he ſaid. Deare daughter, I make no
queſtion to the contrary, but it muſt needes be an exceeding infelicity, to
ſo faire and goodly a young woman as you are, to be plagued with ſo ſottiſh
an husband, brain-ſick, and without the vſe of common vnderſtanding;
but yet ſubiect to a more belliſh affliction then all theſe, namely iealouſie,
and therfore you being in this wofull manner tormented, your tribulations
are not only ſo much the more credited, but alſo as amply grieued
for, & pittied. In which heauy and irkſom perturbations, I ſee not any
meanes of remedy, but onely one, being a kinde of phyſicke (beyond all
other) to cure him of his fooliſh iealouſie; which medicine is very familiar
to me, becauſe I know beſt how to compound it, alwayes prouided,
that you can be of ſo ſtrong a capacity, as to be ſecret in what I ſhall ſay
vnto you.
Good Father (anſwered the Woman) neuer make you any doubt
thereof, for I would rather endure death it ſelfe, then diſcloſe any thing
which you enioyne me to keepe ſecret: wherefore, I beſeech you Sir to
tell me, how, and by what meanes it may be done. If (quoth the Abbot)
you deſire to haue him perfectly cured, of a diſeaſe ſo dangerous and offenſiue,
of neceſſity he muſt be ſent into Purgatory. How may that be
done, ſaide the woman, he being aliue? He muſt needs die, anſwered the
Abbot, for his more ſpeedy paſſage thither; and when he hath endured
ſo much puniſhment, as may expiate the quality of his iealouſie, we haue
certaine deuoute and zealous prayers, whereby to bring him backe againe
to life, in as able manner as euer he was. Why then, replyed the woman,
I muſt remaine in the ſtate of a Widdow? Very true, ſaide the Abbot,
for a certaine time, in all which ſpace, you may not (by any meanes) marrie
againe, becauſe the heauens will therewith be highly offended: but
Ferando being returned to life againe, you muſt repoſſeſſe him as your
Husband, but neuer to be iealous any more. Alas Sir (quoth the woman)
ſo that he may be cured of his wicked iealouſie, and I no longer liue in
ſuch an helliſh impriſonment, doe as you pleaſe.
Now was the Abbot (well neere) on the higheſt ſtep of his hope, making
her conſtant promiſe, to accompliſh it: But (quoth he) what ſhall be
my recompence when I haue done it? Father, ſaide ſhee, whatſoeuer
you pleaſe to aske, if it remaine within the compaſſe of my power: but
you being ſuch a vertuous and ſanctified man, and I a woman of ſo meane
worth or merit; what ſufficient recompence can I be able to make you?
Whereunto the Abbot thus replyed. Faire woman, you are able to doe
as much for me, as I am for you, becauſe as I doe diſpoſe my ſelfe, to performe
a matter for your comfort and conſolation, euen ſo ought you to
be as mindfull of me, in any action concerning my life and welfare. In
any ſuch matter Sir (quoth ſhee) depending on your benefit ſo ſtrictly,
you may ſafely preſume to command me. You muſt then (ſaide the Abbot)
grant me your loue, and the kinde embracing of your perſon; becauſe
ſo violent are mine affections, as I pine and conſume away daily, till
I enioy the fruition of my deſires, and none can help me therein but you.
When the woman heard theſe words, as one confounded with much
amazement, this ſhee replied. Alas, holy Father! what a ſtrange motion
haue you made to me? I beleeued very faithfully, that you were no leſſe
then a Saint, and is it conuenient, that when ſilly women come to aske
counſell of ſuch ſanctified men, they ſhould returne them ſuch vnfitting
anſweres? Be not amazed good woman, ſaide the Abbot, at the motion
which I haue made vnto you, becauſe holineſſe is not thereby impaired a
iot in me; for it is the inhabitant of the ſoule, the other is an imperfection
attending on the body: but be it whatſoeuer, your beauty hath ſo powerfully
preuailed on me, that entire loue hath compelled me to let you
know it. And more may you boaſt of your beauty, then any that euer I
beheld before, conſidering, it is ſo pleaſing to a ſanctified man, that it
can draw him from diuine contemplations, to regard a matter of ſo
humble an equalitie.
Let me tell you moreouer, woorthy Woman, that you ſee me reuerenced
here as Lord Abbot, yet am I but as other men are, and in regard
I am neither aged, nor miſhapen, me thinkes the motion I haue
made, ſhould be the leſſe offenſiue to you, and therefore the ſooner
granted. For, all the while as Ferando remaineth in Purgatory, doe
you but imagine him to be preſent with you, and your perſwaſion will
the more abſolutely be confirmed. No man can, or ſhall be priuy to
our cloſe meetings, for I carrie the ſame holy opinion among all men,
as you your ſelfe conceiued of me, and none dare be ſo ſaucie, as to
call in queſtion whatſoeuer I doe or ſay, becauſe my wordes are Oracles,
and mine actions more then halfe miracles; doe you not then refuſe
ſo gracious an offer. Enow there are, who would gladly enioy
that, which is francke and freely preſented to you, and which (if you be
a wiſe Woman) is meerely impoſſible for you to refuſe. Richly am
I poſſeſſed of Gold and Iewels, which ſhall be all yours, if you pleaſe in
fauour to be mine; wherein I will not be gaine-ſaide, except your ſelfe
doe denie me.
The Woman hauing her eyes fixed on the ground, knew not wel how
ſhee ſhould denie him; and yet in plaine words, to ſay ſhee conſented,
ſhee held it to be ouer-baſe and immodeſt, and ill agreeing with her former
reputation: when the Abbot had well noted this attention in her,
and how ſilent ſhee ſtood without returning any anſwer; he accounted
the conqueſt to be more then halfe his owne: ſo that continuing on his
formall perſwaſions, hee neuer ceaſed, but allured her ſtill to beleeue
whatſoeuer he ſaide. And ſhee much aſhamed of his importunity, but
more of her owne flexible yeelding weakeneſſe, made anſwer, that ſhee
would willingly accompliſh his requeſt; which yet ſhee did not abſolutelie
grant, vntill Ferando were firſt ſent into Purgatory. And till then
(quoth the Abbot) I will not vrge any more, becauſe I purpoſe his ſpeedy
ſending thither: but yet, ſo farre lend me your aſſiſtance, that either to
morrow, or elſe the next day, he may hither once more to conuerſe with
me. So putting a faire gold Ring on her finger, they parted till their next
meeting.
Not a little ioyfull was the Woman of ſo rich a gift, hoping to enioy
a great many more of them, and returning home to her neighbours,
acquainted them with wonderfull matters, all concerning the ſanctimonious
life of the Abbot, a meere miracle of men, and worthy to
be truely termed a Saint. Within two dayes after, Ferando went
to the Abbye againe, and ſo ſoone as the Abbot eſpyed him, hee preſently
prepared for his ſending of him into Purgatorie. He neuer was
without a certaine kinde of drugge, which being beaten into powder,
would worke ſo powerfully vpon the braine, and all the other vitall ſences,
as to entrance them with a deadly ſleepe, and depriue them of all
motion, either in the pulſes, or any other part elſe, euen as if the body
were dead indeede; in which operation it would ſo hold and continue,
according to the quantity giuen and drunke, as it pleaſed the Abbot to order
the matter. This powder or drugge, was ſent him by a great Prince
of the Eaſt, and therewith he wrought wonders vpon his Nouices, ſending
them into Purgatory when he pleaſed, and by ſuch puniſhments as
he inflicted on them there, made them (like credulous aſſes) beleeue whatſoeuer
himſelfe liſted.
So much of this powder had the Abbot prouided, as ſhould ſuffice for
three dayes entrauncing, and hauing compounded it with a very pleaſant
Wine, calling Ferando into his Chamber, there gaue it him to drinke,
and afterward walked with him about the Cloyſter, in very friendly conference
together, the ſilly ſot neuer dreaming on the treachery intended
againſt him. Many Monkes beſide were recreating themſelues in the
Cloyſter, moſt of them delighting to behold the follies of Ferando, on
whom the potion beganne ſo to worke, that he ſlept in walking, nodding
and reeling as hee went, till at the laſt hee fell downe, as if he had beene
dead.
The Abbot pretending great admiration at this accident, called his
Monkes about him, all labouring by rubbing his temples, throwing cold
water and vinegar in his face, to reuiue him againe; alleaging that ſome
fume or vapour in the ſtomacke, had thus ouer-awed his vnderſtanding
faculties, and quite depriued him of life indeede. At length, when by
taſting the pulſe, and all their beſt employed paines, they ſaw that their
labour was ſpent in vaine; the Abbot vſed ſuch perſwaſions to the
Monkes, that they all beleeued him to be dead: whereupon they ſent
for his Wife and friends, who crediting as much as the reſt did, were
very ſad and ſorrowfull for him.
The Abbot (cloathed as he was) laide him in a hollow vault vnder a
Tombe, ſuch as there are vſed in ſtead of Graues; his Wife returning
home againe to her Houſe, with a young Sonne which ſhee had by
her Husband, proteſting to keepe ſtill within her Houſe, and neuer
more to be ſeene in any company, but onely to attend her young
Sonne, and be very carefull of ſuch wealth as her Husband had left
vnto her.
From the City of Bologna, that very inſtant day, a well ſtaide and
gouerned Monke there arriued, who was a neere kinſman to the Abbot,
and one whom he might ſecurely truſt. In the dead time of the
night, the Abbot and this Monke aroſe, and taking Ferando out of the
vault, carried him into a darge dungeon or priſon, which he termed by
the name of Purgatory, and where hee vſed to diſcipline his Monkes,
when they had committed any notorious offence, deſeruing to be
puniſhed in Purgatory. There they tooke off his vſuall wearing
garments, and cloathed him in the habite of a Monke, euen as if he had
beene one of the houſe; and laying him on a bundle of ſtraw, ſo left him
vntill his ſences ſhould be reſtored againe. On the day following, late
in the euening, the Abbot, accompanied with his truſty Monke, (by way
of viſitation) went to ſee and comfort the ſuppoſed widow; finding her attired
in blacke, very ſad and penſiue, which by his wonted perſwaſions,
indifferently he appeaſed; challenging the benefit of her promiſe. Shee
being thus alone, not hindered by her Husbands iealouſie, and eſpying
another goodly gold Ring on his finger, how frailety and folly ouer-ruled
her, I know not, ſhee was a weake woman, he a diuelliſh deluding man;
and the ſtrongeſt holdes by ouer-long battery and beſieging, muſt needes
yeeld at the laſt, as I feare ſhee did: for very often afterward, the Abbot
vſed in this manner to viſit her, and the ſimple ignorant Countrey people,
carrying no ſuch ill opinion of the holy Abbot, and hauing ſeene Ferando
lying for dead in the vault, and alſo in the habite of a Monke; were
verily perſwaded, that when they ſaw the Abbot paſſe by to and fro, but
moſt commonly in the night ſeaſon, it was the ghoſt of Ferando, who
walked in this manner after his death, as a iuſt pennance for his iealouſie.
When Ferandoes ſences were recouered againe, and he found himſelfe
to be in ſuch a darkeſome place; not knowing where he was, he beganne
to crie and make a noyſe. When preſently the Monke of Bologna
(according as the Abbot had tutured him) ſtept into the dungeon, carrying
a little waxe candle in the one hand, and a ſmarting whip in the other,
going to Ferando, he ſtript off his cloathes, and began to laſh him
very ſoundly. Ferando roaring and crying, could ſay nothing elſe, but,
where am I? The Monke (with a dreadfull voyce) replyed: Thou art in
Purgatory. How? ſaide Ferando; what? Am I dead? Thou art dead (quoth
the Monke) and began to laſh him luſtily againe. Poore Ferando, crying
out for his Wife and little Sonne, demanded a number of idle queſtions,
whereto the Monke ſtill fitted him with as fantaſticke anſwers. Within a
while after, he ſet both foode and wine before him, which when Ferando
ſawe, he ſaide; How is this? Doe dead men eate and drinke? Yes, replyed
the Monke, and this foode which here thou ſeeſt, thy Wife brought hither
to their Church this morning, to haue Maſſes deuoutly ſung for thy
ſoule; and as to other, ſo muſt it be ſet before thee, for ſuch is the command
of the Patrone of this place.
Ferando hauing lyen entranced three dayes and three nights, felt his
ſtomacke well prepared to eate, and feeding very heartily, ſtill ſaide; O my
good Wife, O my louing Wife, long mayeſt thou liue for this extraordinary
kindneſſe. I promiſe thee (ſweete heart) while I was aliue, I cannot
remember, that euer any foode and wine was halfe ſo pleaſing to me.
O my deare Wife; O my hony Wife. Canſt thou (quoth the Monke)
prayſe and commend her now, vſing her ſo villainouſly in thy life time?
Then did he whip him more fiercely then before, when Ferando holding
vp his hands, as crauing for mercy, demanded wherefore he was ſo ſeuerely
puniſhed? I am ſo commanded (quoth the Monke) by ſupreme
power, and twice euery day muſt thou be thus diſciplinde. Vpon what
occaſion? replyed Ferando. Becauſe (quoth the Monke) thou waſt moſt
notoriouſly iealous of thy Wife, ſhee being the very kindeſt woman to
thee, as all the Countrey containeth not her equall. It is too true, anſwered
Ferando, I was ouer-much iealous of her indeede: but had I knowne,
that iealouſie was ſuch a hatefull ſinne againſt Heauen, I neuer would
haue offended therein.
Now (quoth the Monke) thou canſt confeſſe thine owne wilfull follie,
but this ſhould haue beene thought on before, and whileſt thou waſt liuing
in the World. But if the Fates vouchſafe to fauour thee ſo much,
as hereafter to ſend thee to the World once more; remember thy puniſhment
here in Purgatory, and ſinne no more in that foule ſinne of iealouſie.
I pray you Sir tell me, replyed Ferando, after men are dead, and put into
Purgatory, is there any hope of their euer viſiting the World any more?
Yes, ſaide the Monke, if the fury of the Fates be once appeaſed. O that I
knew (quoth Ferando) by what meanes they would be appeaſed, and let
me viſite the World once againe: I would be the beſt Husband that euer
liued, and neuer more be iealous, neuer wrong ſo good a Wife, nor euer
vſe one vnkind word againſt her. In the meane while, and till their anger
may be qualified; when next my Wife doth ſend me
•
oode, I pray you
worke ſo much, that ſome Candles may be ſent me alſo, becauſe I liue
here in vncomfortable darkneſſe; and what ſhould I doe with foode, if I
haue no light. Shee ſends Lights enow, anſwered the Monke, but they
are burnt out on the Altar in Maſſe-time, and thou canſt haue none other
here, but ſuch as I muſt bring my ſelfe; neither are they allowed, but onely
for the time of thy feeding and correcting.
Ferando breathing foorth a vehement ſigh, deſired to know what he
was, being thus appointed to puniſh him in Purgatory? I am (quoth the
Monke) a dead man, as thou art, borne in Sardignia, where I ſerued a very
iealous Maſter; and becauſe I ſoothed him in his iealouſie, I had this pennance
impoſed on me, to ſerue thee here in Purgatory with meate and
drinke, and (twice euery day) to diſcipline thy body, vntill the Fates haue
otherwiſe determined both for thee and me. Why? ſaide Ferando, are any
other perſons here, beſide you and I? Many thouſands, replyed the
Monke, whom thou canſt neither heare nor ſee, no more then they are able
to doe the like by vs. But how farre, ſaide Ferando, is Purgatory diſtant
from our natiue Countries? About ſome fifty thouſand leagues,
anſwered the Monke; but yet paſſable in a moment, whenſoeuer the offended
Fates are pleaſed: and many Maſſes are daily ſaide for thy ſoule,
at the earneſt entreaty of thy Wife, in hope of thy conuerſion; and becomming
a new man, hating to be iealous any more hereafter.
In theſe and ſuch like ſpeeches, as thus they beguiled the time, ſo did
they obſerue it for a dayly courſe, ſometime diſcipling, other whiles
eating and drinking, for the ſpace of ten whole moneths together: in the
which time, the Abbot ſildome failed to viſite Ferandoes wife, without
the leaſt ſuſpition in any of the neighbours, by reaſon of their ſetled opinion,
concerning the nightly walking of Ferandoes ghoſt. But, as all pleaſures
cannot bee exempted from ſome following paine or other, ſo it
came to paſſe, that Ferandoes wife proued to be conceiued with childe,
and the time was drawing on for her deliuerance. Now began the Abbot
to conſider, that Ferandoes folly was ſufficiently chaſtiſed, and hee
had beene long enough in Purgatory: wherefore, the better to countenance
all paſſed inconueniences, it was now thought high time, that Ferando
ſhould be ſent to the world againe, and ſet free from the paines of
Purgatory, as hauing payed for his iealouſie dearely, to teach him better
wiſedome hereafter.
Late in the dead time of the night, the Abbot himſelfe entred into the
darke dungeon, and in an hollow counterfeited voyce, called to Ferando,
ſaying. Comfort thy ſelfe Ferando, for the Fates are now pleaſed, that
thou ſhalt bee releaſed out of Purgatory, and ſent to liue in the world
againe. Thou didſt leaue thy wife newly conceiued with childe, and this
very morning ſhe is deliuered of a goodly Sonne, whom thou ſhalt cauſe
to be named Bennet: becauſe, by the inceſſant prayers of the holy Abbot,
thine owne louing wife, and for ſweet Saint Bennets ſake, this grace
and fauour is afforded thee. Ferando hearing this, was exceeding ioyfull,
and returned this anſwere: For euer honoured be the Fates, the holy
Lord Abbot, bleſſed Saint Bennet, and my moſt dearely beloued wife,
whom I will faithfully loue for euer, and neuer more offend her by any
iealouſie in me.
When the next foode was ſent to Ferando, ſo much of the powder
was mingled with the wine, as would ſerue onely for foure houres entrauncing,
in which time, they clothed him in his owne wearing apparell
againe, the Abbot himſelfe in perſon, and his honeſt truſty Monke of
Bologna, conueying and laying him in the ſame vault vnder the Tombe,
where at the firſt they gaue him buriall. The next morning following,
about the breake of day, Ferando recouered his ſences, and thorow diuers
chinkes and crannies of the Tombe, deſcried day-light, which hee
had not ſeene in tenne moneths ſpace before. Perceiuing then plainely,
that he was aliue, he cried out aloude, ſaying: Open, open, and let mee
forth of Purgatory, for I haue beene heere long enough in conſcience.
Thruſting vp his head againſt the couer of the Tombe, which was not of
any great ſtrength, neither well cloſed together; hee put it quite off the
Tombe, and ſo got forth vpon his feete: at which inſtant time, the Monks
hauing ended their morning Mattins, and hearing the noyſe, ran in haſt
thither, and knowing the voyce of Ferando, ſaw that he was come forth of
the Monument,
Some of them were ancient Signiors of the houſe, and yet but meere
Nouices (as all the reſt were) in theſe cunning and politique ſtratagems
of the Lord Abbot, when hee intended to puniſh any one in Purgatory,
and therefore, being affrighted, and amazed at this rare accident; they
fled away from him running to the Abbot, who making a ſhew to them,
as if he were but new come forth of his Oratory, in a kinde of pacifying
ſpeeches, ſaide; Peace my deare Sonnes, bee not affraide, but fetch the
Croſſe and Holy-water hither; then follow me, and I will ſhew you, what
miracle the Fates haue pleaſed to ſhew in our Conuent, therefore be ſilent,
and make no more noiſe; all which was performed according to his
command.
Ferando looking leane and pale (as one, that in ſo long time hadde not
ſeene the light of heauen, and endured ſuch ſtrict diſcipline twice euerie
day: ſtood in a gaſtly amazement by the Tombes ſide, as not daring to
aduenture any further, or knowing perfectly, whether he was (as yet) truly
aliue, or no. But when he ſaw the Monkes and Abbot comming, with
their lighted Torches, and ſinging in a ſolemne manner of Proceſſion, he
humbled himſelfe at the Abbots feere, ſaying. Holy Father, by your zealous
prayers (as hath bin miraculouſly reuealed to me) and the prayers of
bleſſed S. Bennet; as alſo of my honeſt, deare, and louing Wife, I haue
bin deliuered from the paines of Purgatory, and brought againe to liue in
this world; for which vnſpeakable grace and fauor, moſt humbly I thank
the well-pleaſed Fates, S. Bennet, your Father-hood, and my kinde Wife,
and will remember all your loues to me for euer. Bleſſed be the Fates, anſwered
the Abbot, for working ſo great a wonder heere in our Monaſtery.
Go then my good Son, ſeeing the Fates haue bin ſo gracious to thee;
Go (I ſay) home to thine owne houſe, and comfort thy kind wife, who euer
ſince thy departure out of this life, hath liued in continual mourning,
loue, cheriſh, and make much of her, neuer afflicting her henceforth with
cauſleſſe iealouſie. No I warrant you good Father, replyed Ferando; I
haue bin well whipt in Purgatory for ſuch folly, and therefore I might be
called a ſtarke foole, if I ſhould that way offend any more, either my louing
wife, or any other.
The Abbot cauſing Miſerere to be deuoutly ſung, ſprinkling Ferando
well with Holy-water, and placing a lighted Taper in his hand, ſent him
home ſo to his owne dwelling Village: where when the Neighbours beheld
him, as people halfe frighted out of their wits, they fledde away from
him, ſo ſcared and terrified, as if they had ſeene ſome dreadfull ſight, or
gaſtly apparition; his wife being as fearfull of him, as any of the reſt. He
called to them kindly by their ſeuerall names, telling them, that hee was
newly riſen out of his graue, and was a man as he had bin before. Then
they began to touch and feele him, growing into more certaine aſſurance
of him, perceiuing him to be a liuing man indeede: whereupon, they demanded
many queſtions of him; and he, as if he were become farre wiſer
then before, tolde them tydings, from their long deceaſed Kindred and
Friends, as if he had met with them all in Purgatory, reporting a thouſand
lyes and fables to them, which (neuertheleſſe) they beleeued.
Then he told them what the miraculous voice had ſaid vnto him, concerning
the birth of another young Sonne, whom (according as he was
commanded) he cauſed to be named Bennet Ferando. Thus his returne to
life againe, and the daily wonders reported by him, cauſed no meane admiration
in the people, with much commendation of the Abbots Holyneſſe,
and Ferandoes happy curing of his iealouſie.
Iuliet of Narbona, cured the King of France of a daungerous Fistula, in recompence whereof, ſhe requeſted to enioy as her husband in marriage, Bertrand the Count of Rouſſilion. Hee hauing married her againſt his will, as vtterly deſpiſing her, went to Florence, where he made loue to a young Gentle woman. Iuliet, by a queint and cunning policy, compaſſed the meanes (inſted of his choſen new friend) to lye with her owne husband, by whom ſhee conceiued, and had two Sonnes; which being afterward made knowne vnto Count Bertrand, he accepted her into his fauour again, and loued her as his loyall and honourable wife.
The Ninth Nouell.
Commending the good iudgement and vnderſtanding in Ladies or Gentlewomen, that are of a quicke and apprehenſiue ſpirit.
NOw there remained no more
(to preſerue the priuiledge
granted to Dioneus vninfringed)
but the Queene onely, to declare
her Nouell. Wherefore, when
the diſcourſe of Madam Lauretta
was ended, without attending any
motion to bee made for her
next ſucceeding, with a gracious
and pleaſing diſpoſition, thus ſhe
began to ſpeake. Who ſhall tell
any Tale heereafter, to carry any
hope or expectation of a King,
hauing heard the rare and wittie
diſcourſe of Madame Lauretta?
Beleeue me, it was verie aduantageable
to vs all, that ſhe was not
this dayes firſt beginner, becauſe
few or none would haue had any courage to follow after her; & therefore
the reſt yet remaining, are the more to be feared and ſuſpected. Neuertheleſſe,
to auoid the breach of order, and to claime no priuiledge by my
place, of not performing what I ought to do: proue as it may, a Tale you
muſt haue, and thus I proceed.
There liued ſometime in the kingdom of France, a Gentleman named
Iſnarde, being the Count of Rouſsillion, who becauſe hee was continually
weake, crazie and ſickly, kept a Phyſitian daily in his houſe, who was called
Maſter Gerard of Narbona. Count Iſnarde had one onely Sonne, very
young in yeares, yet of towardly hope, faire, comely, and of pleaſing
perſon, named Bertrand; with whom, many other children of his age, had
their education: and among them, a daughter of the fore-named Phyſitian,
called Iuliet; who, euen in theſe tender yeares, fixed her affection
vpon yong Bertrand, with ſuch an earneſt and intimate reſolution, as was
moſt admirable in ſo yong a maiden, and more then many times is noted
in yeares of greater diſcretion. Old Count Iſnard dying, yong Bertrand
fell as a Ward to the King, and being ſent to Paris, remained there vnder
his royall cuſtodie and protection, to the no little diſcomfort of yong Iuliet,
who became greeuouſly afflicted in minde, becauſe ſhee had loſt the
company of Bertrand.
Within ſome few yeeres after, the Phyſitian her Father alſo dyed, and
then her deſires grew wholly addicted, to viſite Paris her ſelfe in perſon,
onely becauſe ſhe would ſee the yong Count, awaiting but time & opportunitie,
to fit her ſtolne iourney thither. But her kindred and friends,
to whoſe care and truſt ſhe was committed, in regard of her rich dowrie,
and being left as a fatherleſſe Orphane: were ſo circumſpect of her walks
and daily behauiour, as ſhe could not compaſſe any meanes of
•
ſcaping.
Her yeeres made her now almoſt fit for marriage, which ſo much more
encreaſed her loue to the Count, making refuſall of many woorthie huſbands,
and laboured by the motions of her friends and kindred, yet all denyed,
they not knowing any reaſon for her refuſalles. By this time the
Count was become a gallant goodly Gentleman, and able to make election
of a wife, wherby her affections were the more violently enfl
•
med,
as fearing leaſt ſome other ſhould be preferred before her, & ſo her hopes
be vtterly diſappointed.
It was noyſed abroad by common report, that the King of France was
in a very dangerous condition, by reaſon of a ſtrange ſwelling on his ſtomacke,
which failing of apt and conuenient curing, became a Fiſtula, afflicting
him daily with extraordinary paine and anguiſh, no Chirurgeon
or Phyſitian being found, that could miniſter any hope of healing, but rather
encreaſed the greefe, and droue it to more vehement extreamitie,
compelling the King, as diſpairing vtterly of all helpe, to giue ouer any
further counſell or aduice. Heereof faire Iuliet was wondrouſly ioyful, as
hoping that this accident would proue the meanes, not only of hir iourney
to Paris, but if the diſeaſe were no more then ſhee imagined; ſhee
could eaſily cure it, and thereby compaſſe Count Bertrand to be her huſband.
Heereupon, quickning vp her wits, with remembrance of
thoſe rules of Art, which (by long practiſe and experience) ſhe had learned
of her skilfull Father, ſhee compounded certaine hearbes together,
ſuch as ſhe knew fitting for that kinde of infirmity, and hauing reduced hit
compound into a powder, away ſhe rode forthwith to Paris.
Being there arriued, all other ſerious matters ſet aſide, firſt ſhee muſt
needs haue a ſight of Count Bertrand, as being the onely Saint that cauſed
her pilgrimage. Next ſhe made meanes for her acceſſe to the King,
humbly entreating his Maieſty, to vouchſafe her the ſight of his Fiſtula.
When the King ſaw her, her modeſt lookes did plainly deliuer, that ſhe
was a faire, comely, and diſcreete young Gentlewoman; wherefore, hee
would no longer hide it, but layed it open to her view. When ſhee had
ſeene and felt it, preſently ſhe put the King in comfort; affirming, that ſhe
knew her ſelfe able to cure his Fiſtula, ſaying: Sir, if your Highneſſe will
referre the matter to me, without any perill of life, or any the leaſt paine
to your perſon, I hope (by the helpe of heauen) to make you whole and
ſound within eight dayes ſpace. The King hearing her words, beganne
merrily to ſmile at her, ſaying: How is it poſſible for thee, being a yong
Maiden, to do that which the beſt Phyſitians in Europe, are not able to
performe? I commend thy kindneſſe, and will not remaine vnthankefull
for thy forward willingneſſe: but I am fully determined, to vſe no more
counſell, or to make any further triall of Phyſicke or Chirurgery. Wherto
faire Iuliet thus replied: Great King, let not my skill and experience
be deſpiſed, becauſe I am young, and a Maiden; for my profeſſion is not
Phyſicke, neither do I vndertake the miniſtering thereof, as depending on
mine owne knowledge; but by the gracious aſſiſtance of heauen, & ſome
rules of skilfull obſeruation, which I learned of reuerend Gerard of Narbona,
who was my worthy Father, and a Phyſitian of no meane fame, all
the while he liued.
At the hearing of theſe words, the King began ſomewhat to admire at
her gracious carriage, and ſaide within himſelfe. What know I, whether
this virgin is ſent to me by the direction of heauen, or no? Why ſhould
I diſdaine to make proofe of her skill? Her promiſe is, to cure mee in a
ſmall times compaſſe, and without any paine or affliction to me: ſhe ſhall
not come ſo farre, to returne againe with the loſſe of her labour, I am reſolued
to try her cunning, and thereon ſaide. Faire Virgin, if you cauſe
me to breake my ſetled determination, and faile of curing mee, what can
you expect to follow thereon? Whatſoeuer great King (quoth ſhe) ſhall
pleaſe you. Let me bee ſtrongly guarded, yet not hindred, when I am to
proſecute the buſineſſe: and then if I doe not perfectly heale you vvithin
eight daies, let a good fire be made, and therein conſume my bodie vnto
aſhes. But if I accompliſh the cure, and ſet your Highneſſe free from all
further greeuance, what recompence then ſhal remaine to me?
Much did the King commend the confident perſwaſion which ſhe had
of her owne power, and preſently replyed. Faire beauty (quoth he) in regard
that thou art a Maide and vnmarried, if thou keepe promiſe, and I
finde my ſelfe to be fully cured: I wil match thee with ſome ſuch Gentleman
in marriage, as ſhal be of honourable and worthy reputation, with
a ſufficient dowry beſide. My gracious Soueraigne ſaide ſhe, willing am
I, and moſt heartily thankful withall, that your Highneſſe ſhal beſtow me
in marriage: but I deſire then, to haue ſuch a husband, as I ſhal deſire
or demand by your gracious fauour, without preſuming to craue any of
your Sonnes, Kindred, or Alliance, or appertaining vnto your Royall
blood. Whereto the King gladly granted. Young Iuliet began to miniſter
her Phyſicke, and within fewer dayes then her limited time, the King
was ſound and perfectly cured; which when he perceyued, hee ſayd vnto
her. Truſt me vertuous Mayde, moſt woorthily haſt thou wonne a Huſband,
name him, and thou ſhalt haue him. Royall King (quoth ſhe) then
haue I won the Count Bertrand of Rouſsillion, whom I haue moſt entirely
loued from mine Infancy, and cannot (in my ſoule) affect any other.
Very loath was the King to grant her the young Count, but in regard of
his ſolemne paſſed promiſe, and his royal word engaged, which he would
not by any meanes breake; he commanded, that the Count ſhould be
ſent for, and ſpake thus to him.
Noble Count, it is not vnknowne to vs, that you are a Gentleman of
great honour, and it is our royall pleaſure, to diſcharge your wardſhip,
that you may repaire home to your owne Houſe, there to ſettle your affaires
in ſuch order, as you may be the readier to enioy a Wife, which we
intend to beſtow vpon you. The Count returned his Highneſſe moſt
humble thankes, deſiring to know of whence, and what ſhee was? It is
this Gentlewoman, anſwered the King, who (by the helpe of Heauen)
hath beene the meanes to ſaue my life. Well did the Count know her,
as hauing very often before ſeene her; and although ſhee was very faire
and amiable, yet in regard of her meane birth, which he held as a diſparagement
to his Nobility in bloud; he made a ſcorne of her, and ſpake
thus to the King. Would your Highneſſe giue me a Quackſaluer to my
Wife, one that deales in drugges and Phyſicarie? I hope I am able to
beſtow my ſelfe much better then ſo. Why? quoth the King, wouldſt
thou haue vs breake our faith; which for the recouery of our health, wee
haue giuen to this vertuous virgin, and ſhee will haue no other reward,
but onely Count Bertrand to be her husband? Sir, replied the Count,
you may diſpoſſeſſe me of all that is mine, becauſe I am your Ward and
Subiect, and any where elſe you may beſtow me: but pardon me to tell
you, that this marriage cannot be made with any liking or allowance of
mine, neither will I euer giue conſent thereto.
Sir, ſaide the King, it is our will that it ſhall be ſo, vertuous ſhe is, faire
and wiſe; ſhe loueth thee moſt affectionately, and with her mayeſt thou
leade a more Noble life, then with the greateſt Lady in our Kingdome.
Silent, and diſcontented ſtoode the Count, but the King commaunded
preparation for the marriage; and when the appointed time was come,
the Count (albeit againſt his will) receiued his wife at the Kings hand;
ſhe louing him deerely as her owne life. When all was done, the Count
requeſted of the King, that what elſe remained for further ſolemnization
of the marriage, it might be performed in his owne Countrey, reſeruing
to himſelfe what elſe he intended. Being mounted on horſeback,
and humbly taking their leaue of the King, the Count would not ride
home to his owne dwelling, but into Tuſcany, where he heard of a warre
betweene the Florentines and the Seneſi, purpoſing to take part with the
Florentines, to whom he was willingly and honourably welcommed, being
created Captain of a worthy Company, and continuing there a long
while in ſeruice.
The poore forſaken new married Counteſſe, could ſcarſely be pleaſed
with ſuch diſhonourable vnkindnes, yet gouerning her impatience with
no meane diſcretion, and hoping by her vertuous carriage, to compaſſe
the meanes of his recall: home ſhe rode to Rouſsillion, where all the people
receiued her very louingly. Now, by reaſon of the Counts ſo long
abſence, all things were there farre out of order; mutinies, quarrels, and
ciuill diſſentions, hauing procured many diſſolute irruptions, to the expence
of much blood in many places. But ſhee, like a iolly ſtirring Lady,
very wiſe and prouident in ſuch diſturbances, reduced all occaſions
to ſuch ciuility againe, that the people admired her rare behauiour, and
condemned the Count for his vnkindneſſe towards her.
After that the whole countrey of Rouſsillion (by the policy and wiſedome
of this worthy Lady was fully re-eſtabliſhed) in their ancient liberties;
ſhe made choiſe of two diſcreet knights, whom ſhe ſent to the Count
her husband, to let him vnderſtand, that if in diſpleaſure to her, hee was
thus become a ſtranger to his owne countrey: vpon the return of his anſwer,
to giue him contentment, ſhee would depart thence, and by no
meanes diſturbe him. Roughly and churliſhly he replied; Let her doe as
ſhe liſt, for I haue no determination to dwel with her, or neere where
ſhe is. Tell her from me, when ſhe ſhall haue this Ring, which you behold
heere on my finger, and a ſonne in her armes begotten by me; then
will I come liue with her, and be her loue. The Ring he made moſt precious
and deere account of, and neuer tooke it off from his finger, in regard
of an eſpecial vertue and property, which he well knew to be remaining
in it. And theſe two Knights, hearing the impoſſibility of theſe two
ſtrict conditions, with no other fauour elſe to be deriued from him; ſorrowfully
returned backe to their Ladie, and acquainted her with this vnkinde
anſwer, as alſo his vnalterable determination, which wel you may
conceiue, muſt needs be verie vnwelcome to her.
After ſhe had an indifferent while conſidered with her ſelfe, her reſolution
became ſo vndauntable; that ſhe would aduenture to practiſe ſuch
meanes, whereby to compaſſe thoſe two apparant impoſſibilities, and ſo
to enioy the loue of her husband. Hauing abſolutely concluded what
was to be done, ſhe aſſembled all the cheefeſt men of the country, reuealing
vnto them (in mournfull manner) what an attempt ſhe had made already,
in hope of recouering her husbands fauour, and what a rude anſwer
was thereon returned. In the end, ſhe told them, that it did not ſute
with her vnworthineſſe, to make the Count liue as an exile from his
owne inheritance, vpon no other inducement, but only in regard of her:
wherefore, ſhe had determined betweene heauen and her ſoule, to ſpend
the remainder of her dayes in Pilgrimages and prayers, for preſeruation
of the Counts ſoule and her owne; earneſtly deſiring them, to vndertake
the charge and gouernment of the Countrey, and ſignifying vnto the
Count, how ſhe had forſaken his houſe, and purpoſed to wander ſo far
thence, that neuer would ſhe viſite Rouſsillion any more. In the deliuerie
of theſe words, the Lords and gentlemen wept and ſighed extraordinarily,
vſing many earneſt imprecations to alter this reſolue in her, but all
was in vaine.
Hauing taken her ſad and ſorrowfull farewell of them all, accompanied
onely with her Maide, and one of her Kinſmen, away ſhe went, attired
in a Pilgrims habite, yet well furniſhed with money and precious Iewels,
to auoide all wants which might befall her in trauaile; not acquainting
any one whether ſhe went. In no place ſtayed ſhe, vntill ſhe was arriued
at Florence, where happening into a poore Widdowes houſe, like
a poore Pilgrim, ſhe ſeemed well contented therewith. And deſiring to
heare ſome tydings of the Count, the next day ſhe ſaw him paſſe by the
houſe on horſe-backe, with his company. Now, albeit ſhee knew him
well enough, yet ſhe demanded of the good old Widdow, what Gentleman
he was? She made anſwer, that be was a ſtranger there, yet a Nobleman,
called Count Bertrand of Rouſsillion, a verie courteous Knight,
beloued and much reſpected in the City. Moreouer, that he was farre
in loue with a neighbour of hers, a yong Gentlewoman, but verie poore
and meane in ſubſtance, yet of honeſt life, vertuous, and neuer taxed
with any euill report: onely her pouertie was the maine imbarment of
her marriage, dwelling in houſe with her mother, who was a wiſe, honeſt,
and worthy Lady.
The Counteſſe hauing wel obſerued her words, and conſidered theron
from point to point; debated ſoberly with her owne thoughts, in ſuch
a doubtfull caſe what was beſt to be done. When ſhe had vnderſtood
which was the houſe, the ancient Ladies name, and likewiſe her daughters,
to whom her husband was now ſo affectionately deuoted; ſhe made
choiſe of a fit and conuenient time, when (in her Pilgrims habit) ſecretly
ſhe went to the houſe. There ſhe found the mother and daughter in
poore condition, and with as poore a family: whom after ſhe had ceremoniouſly
ſaluted, ſhe told the old Lady, that ſhee requeſted but a little
conference with her. The Ladie aroſe, and giuing her courteous entertainment,
they went together into a withdrawing chamber, where being
both ſet downe, the Counteſſe began in this manner.
Madame, in my poore opinion, you are not free from the frownes of
Fortune, no more then I my ſelfe am: but if you were ſo well pleaſed,
there is no one that can comfort both our calamities in ſuch manner, as
you are able to do. And beleeue me anſwered the Lady, there is nothing
in the world that can bee ſo welcome to mee, as honeſt comfort. The
Counteſſe proceeding on in her former ſpeeches ſaid: I haue now need
(good Madame) both of your truſt and fidelity, whereon if I ſhould rely,
and you faile me, it will be your owne vndooing as well as mine. Speake
then boldly, replied the olde Ladie, and remaine conſtantly aſſured, that
you ſhall no way be deceiued by me. Heereupon, the Counteſſe declared
the whole courſe of her loue, from the verie originall to the inſtant,
reuealing alſo what ſhe was, and the occaſion of her comming thither,
relating euery thing ſo perfectly, that the Ladie verily beleeued her, by
ſome reports which ſhe had formerly heard, and which mooued her the
more to compaſſion. Now, when all circumſtances were at full diſcouered,
thus ſpake the Counteſſe.
Among my other miſeries and misfortunes, which hath halfe broken
my heart in the meere repetition, beſide the ſad and afflicting ſufferance;
two things there are, which if I cannot compaſſe to haue, all hope is
quite fruſtrate for euer, of gaining the grace of my Lord and Husband.
Yet thoſe two things may I obtaine by your helpe, if all be true which I
haue heard, and you can therein beſt reſolue mee. Since my comming
to this City, it hath credibly bene told me, that the Count my husband,
is deeply in loue with your daughter. If the Count (quoth the Ladie)
loue my daughter, and haue a wife of his owne, he muſt thinke, and ſo
ſhall ſurely finde it, that his greatneſſe is no priuiledge for him, whereby
to worke diſhonour vpon her pouerty. But indeed, ſome apparances
there are, and ſuch a matter as you ſpeake of, may be ſo preſumed; yet ſo
farre from a very thought of entertaining in her or me; as whatſoeuer I
am able to do, to yeeld you any comfort and content, you ſhall find me
therein both willing and ready: for I prize my daughters ſpotles pouerty
as at high a rate, as he can do the pride of his honor.
Madam, quoth the Counteſſe, moſt heartily I thanke you. But before
I preſume any further on your kindneſſe, let me firſt tell you, what
faithfully I intend to do for you, if I can bring my purpoſe to effect I ſee
that your daughter is beautifull, and of ſufficient yeares for mariage; and
is debarred thereof (as I haue heard) onely by lack of a competent dowry.
Wherefore Madame, in recompence of the fauour I expect from
you, I will enrich her with ſo much ready money as you ſhall thinke ſufficient
to match her in the degree of honor. Pouerty made the poore Lady,
very well to like of ſuch a bountifull offer, and hauing a noble heart
ſhe ſaid: Great Counteſſe ſay, wherein am I able to do you any ſeruice,
as can deſerue ſuch a gracious offer? If the action bee honeſt, without
blame or ſcandall to my poore, yet vndetected reputation, gladly I will
do it; and it being accompliſhed, let the requitall reſt in your owne noble
nature.
Obſerue me then Madam, replyed the Counteſſe. It is moſt conuenient
for my purpoſe, that by ſome truſty and faithfull meſſenger, you
ſhould aduertiſe the Count my husband, that your daughter is, and ſhall
be at his command: but becauſe ſhe may remain abſolutely aſſured, that
his loue is conſtant to her, and aboue all other: ſhee muſt entreate him,
to ſend her (as a teſtimony thereof) the Ring which he weareth vpon his
little finger, albeit ſhe hath heard, that he loueth it dearly. If he ſend the
Ring, you ſhal giue it me, & afterward ſend him word, that your daughter
is readie to accompliſh his pleaſure; but, for the more ſafety and ſecrecie,
he muſt repaire hither to your houſe, where I being in bed inſted
of your daughter, faire Fortune may ſo fauour mee, that (vnknowne to
him) I may conceiue with childe. Vppon which good ſucceſſe, when
time ſhall ſerue, hauing the Ring on my finger, and a child in my armes
begotten by him, his loue and liking may bee recouered, and (by your
meanes) I continue with my Husband, as euerie vertuous Wife ought
to doe.
The good old Ladie imagined, that this was a matter ſomewhat difficult,
and might lay a blamefull imputation on her daughter: Neuertheleſſe,
conſidering, what an honeſt office it was in her, to bee the
meanes, whereby ſo worthy a Counteſſe ſhould recouer an vnkinde huſband,
led altogether by luſt, and not a iot of cordiall loue; ſhe knew the
intent to be honeſt, the Counteſſe vertuous, and her promiſe religious,
and therefore vndertooke to effect it. Within few dayes after, verie ingeniouſly,
and according to the inſtructed order, the Ring was obtayned,
albeit much againſt the Counts will; and the Counteſſe, in ſted of
the Ladies vertuous daughter, was embraced by him in bed: the houre
prouing ſo auſpicious, and Iuno being Lady of the aſcendent, conioyned
with the witty Mercury, ſhe conceiued of two goodly Sonnes, and
her deliuerance agreed correſpondently with the iuſt time.
Thus the old Lady, not at this time only, but at many other meetings
beſide; gaue the Counteſſe free poſſeſſion of her husbands pleaſures, yet
alwayes in ſuch darke and concealed ſecrecie, as it was neuer ſuſpected,
nor knowne by any but themſelues, the Count lying with his owne wife,
and diſappointed of her whom he more deerely loued. Alwayes at his
vpriſing in the mornings (which vſually was before the breake of day, for
for preuenting the leaſt ſcruple of ſuſpition) many familiar conferences
paſſed betweene them, with the gifts of diuers faire and coſtly Iewels; all
which the Counteſſe carefully kept, and perceiuing aſſuredly, that ſhee
was conceiued with childe, ſhe would no longer bee troubleſome to the
good old Lady; but calling her aſide, ſpake thus to her. Madam, I muſt
needs giue thankes to heauen and you, becauſe my deſires are amply accompliſhed,
and both time and your deſerts doe iuſtly challenge, that I
ſhould accordingly quite you before my departure. It remaineth nowe
in your owne power, to make what demand you pleaſe of me, which yet
I will not giue you by way of reward, becauſe that would ſeeme to bee
baſe and mercenary: but onely whatſoeuer you ſhall receiue of me, is in
honourable recompence of faire & vertuous deſeruings, ſuch as any honeſt
and well-minded Lady in the like diſtreſſe, may with good credit allow,
and yet no preiudice to her reputation.
Although pouerty might well haue tutored the Ladies tongue, to demand
a liberall recompence for her paines; yet ſhe requeſted but an 100
pounds, as a friendly helpe towards her daughters marriage, and that
with a baſhfull bluſhing was vttered too; yet the Counteſſe gaue hir fiue
hundred pounds, beſide ſo many rich and coſtly Iewels, as amounted to
a farre greater ſumme. So ſhe returned to her wonted lodging, at the aged
widdowes houſe, where firſt ſhe was entertained at her comming to
Florence; and the good old Lady, to auoide the Counts repairing to her
houſe any more, departed thence ſodainly with her daughter, to diuers
friends of hers that dwelt in the Country, whereat the Count was much
diſcontented; albeit afterward, he did neuer heare any more tidings of hir
or her daughter, who was worthily married, to her Mothers great comfort.
Not long after, Count Bertrand was re-called home by his people:
and he hauing heard of his wiues abſence, went to Rouſsillion ſo much the
more willingly. And the Counteſſe knowing her husbands departure
from Florence, as alſo his ſafe arriuall at his owne dwelling, remained ſtill
in Florence, vntill the time of her deliuerance, which was of two goodly
Sonnes, liuely reſembling the lookes of their Father, and all the perfect
lineaments of his body. Perſwade your ſelues, ſhe was not a little carefull
of their nurſing; and when ſhe ſaw the time anſwerable to her determination,
ſhe tooke her iourney (vnknowne to any) and arriued with
them at Montpellier, where ſhee reſted her ſelfe for diuers dayes, after ſo
long and weariſome a iourney.
Vpon the day of all Saints, the Count kept a ſolemne Feſtiuall, for
the aſſembly of his Lords, Knights, Ladies, and Gentlewomen: vppon
which Iouiall day of generall reioycing, the Counteſſe attired in her
wonted Pilgrimes weed, repaired thither, entering into the great Hall,
where the Tables were readily couered for dinner. Preaſſing thorough
the throng of people, with her two children in her armes, ſhe preſumed
vnto the place where the Count ſate, & falling on her knees before him,
the teares trickling abundantly downe her checkes, thus ſhe ſpake. Worthy
Lord, I am thy poor, deſpiſed, and vnfortunate wife; who, that thou
mightſt returne home, and not bee an exile from thine owne abiding,
haue thus long gone begging through the world. Yet now at length, I
hope thou wilt be ſo honourably-minded, as to performe thine own too
ſtrict impoſed conditions, made to the two Knights which I ſent vnto
thee, and which (by thy command) I was enioyned to do. Behold here
in mine armes, not onely one Sonne by thee begotten, but two Twins,
and thy Ring beſide. High time is it now, if men of honor reſpect their
promiſes, that after ſo long and redious trauell, I ſhould at laſt bee welcommed
as thy true wife.
The Counte hearing this, ſtoode as confounded with admiration;
for full well he knew the Ring: and both the children were ſo perfectly
like him, as he was confirmed to be their Father by▪ generall iudgement.
Vpon his vrging by what poſſible meanes this could be broght to paſſe:
the Counteſſe in preſence of the whole aſſembly, and vnto her eternall
commendation, related the whole hiſtory, euen in ſuch manner as you
haue formerly heard it. Moreouer, ſhe reported the priuate ſpeeches in
bed, vttered betweene himſelfe and her, being witneſſed more apparantly,
by the coſtly Iewels there openly ſhewn. All which infallible proofes,
proclaiming his ſhame, and her moſt noble carriage to her husband; hee
confeſſed, that ſhe had told nothing but the truth in euery point which
ſhe had reported.
Commending her admirable conſtancy, excellency of wit, & ſprightly
courage, in making ſuch a bold aduenture; hee kiſſed the two ſweete
boyes, and to keepe his promiſe, whereto he was earneſtly importuned,
by all his beſt eſteemed friends there preſent, eſpecially the honourable
Ladies, who would haue no deniall, but by forgetting his former harſh
and vnciuill carriage towardes her, to accept her for euer as his lawfull
wife: folding her in his armes, and ſweetly kiſſing her diuers times together,
he bad her welcome to him, as his vertuous, loyall, & moſt louing
wife, and ſo (for euer after) he would acknowledge her. Well knew he
that ſhe had ſtore of better beſeeming garments in the houſe, and therefore
requeſted the Ladies to walke with her to her Chamber, to vncaſe
her of thoſe pilgrimes weeds, and cloath her in her owne more ſumptuous
garments, euen thoſe which ſhe wore on her wedding day, becauſe
that was not the day of his contentment, but onely this: for now he confeſſed
her to be his wife indeede, and now he would giue the King thanks
for her, and now was Count Bertrand truly married to the faire Iuliet of
Narbona.
The wonderfull and chaſte reſolued continency of faire Serictha, daughter to Siwalde King of Denmark, who being ſought and ſued vnto by many worthy perſons, that did affect her dearly, would not looke any man in the face, vntill ſuch time as ſhe was married.
The tenth Nouell.
A very ſingular and worthy preſident, for all yong Ladies and Gentlewomen: not raſhly to beſtow themſelues in mariage, without the knowledge and conſent of their Parents and Friends:
DIoneus hauing diligently liſtened
to the Queens ſingular
diſcourſe, ſo ſoone as ſhe had
concluded, and none now remaining
but himſelfe, to giue a full
period vnto that dayes pleaſure:
without longer trifling the time,
or expecting any command from
the Queene, thus he began. Gracious
Ladies, I know that you do
•
ow expect from me, ſome ſuch
queint Tale, as ſhall be ſuteable
to my merry diſpoſition, rather
ſauouring of wantonneſſe, then
any diſcreet and ſober wiſedom,
and ſuch a purpoſe indeed, I once
had entertained. But hauing well
obſerued all your ſeuerall relations,
grounded on graue & worthy
examples, eſpecially the laſt, ſo notably deliuered by the Queene: I
cannot but commend faire Iuliet of Narbona, in perfourming two ſuch
ſtrange impoſſibilities, and conquering the vnkindneſſe of ſo cruel a huſband.
If my Tale come ſhort of the precedent excellency, or giue not
ſuch content, as you (perhaps) expect; accept my good will, and let me
ſtand engaged for a better heereafter.
The Annales of Denmarke do make mention, that the King of the ſaid
country, who was firſt ſet downe as Prince, contrary to the ancient cuſtom
and lawes obſerued among the Danes, namely Hunguinus; had a ſon
called Siwalde, who ſucceeded him in the eſtates and kingdome, belonging
to his famous predeceſſors. That age, and the Court of that Royall
Prince, was verie highly renowned, by the honour of faire Serictha,
Daughter to the ſayde Siwalde; who beſide her generall repute, of being
a myracle of Nature, in perfection of beautie, and moſt compleate
in all that the heart of man could deſire to note, in a body full of grace,
gentleneſſe, and whatſoeuer elſe, to attract the eyes of euerie one to beholde
her: was alſo ſo chaſte, modeſt, and baſhfull, as it was meerely
impoſſible, to preuaile ſo farre with her, that any man ſhould come to
ſpeake with her. For, in thoſe dayes, marriages were purſued and
ſought by valour, and by the onely opinion, which ſtoute Warriours
conceiued, of the vertuous qualities of a Ladie. Notwithſtanding, neuer
could any man make his vaunt, that ſhe had giuen him ſo much as a
looke, or euer any one attained to the fauour, to whiſper a word in her
eare. Becauſe both the cuſtome and will of Parents then (very reſpectiuely
kept in thoſe Northerne parts of the world) of hearing ſuch ſpeak,
as deſired their daughters in marriage; grew from offering them ſome
worthy ſeruices; and thereby compaſſed meanes, to yeeld their contentation,
by ſome gracious and kinde anſwers.
But ſhe, who was farre off from the deſire of any ſuch follies, referring
her ſelfe wholly to the wil and diſpoſition of the King her Lord and
Father; was ſo contrary, to giue any liuing man an anſwer, that her eye
neuer looked on any one ſpeaking to her, appearing as ſparing in vouchſafing
a glance, as her heart was free from a thought of affection. For, ſhe
had no other imagination, but that Maides, both in their choiſe & will,
ought to haue any other diſpoſition, but ſuch as ſhould bee pleaſing to
their parents, either to graunt, or denie, according as they were guided
by their graue iudgement. In like manner, ſo well had ſhee brideled
her ſenſuall appetites, with the curbe of Reaſon, Wiſedome, and
Prouidence, ſetting ſuch a ſeuere and conſtant reſtraint, on the twinkling
or motions of her eyes, in abſolute obedience to her Father; as neuer
was ſhe ſeene to turne her head aſide, to lend one looke on any man
of her age.
A worthy ſight it was, to behold Knights errant, paſſing, repaſſing to
Denmarke, and backe againe, labouring to conquer thoſe ſetled eyes, to
win the leaſt ſigne of grace and fauour, from her whom they ſo dutiouſly
purſued, to ſteale but a ſilly glimpſe or glance, and would haue thought it
a kind of honorable theft. But this immouable rock of beauty, although
ſhe knew the diſſeignes of them which thus frequented the Court of the
King her Father, and could not pretend ignorance of their endeuour,
ayming onely at obtaining her in marriage: yet did ſhe not lend a
•
y look
of her eye, yeelding the leaſt ſignall of the hearts motion, in affecting any
thing whatſoeuer, but what it pleaſed her Father ſhe ſhould do.
Serictha liuing in this ſtrange and vnvſuall manner, it mooued manie
Princes and great Lords, to come and court her, contending both by
ſignes and words, to change her from this ſeuere conſtancie, and make
knowne (if poſſible it might be) whether a woman would or could be ſo
reſolute, as to vſe no reſpect at all towards them, coming from ſo manie
ſtrange countries, to honor her in the Courts of the King her father. But
in theſe dayes of ours, if ſuch a number of gallant ſpirits ſhould come, to
aske but one looke of ſome of our beauties; I am halfe affraide, that they
ſhould finde the eyes of many of our dainty darlings, not ſo ſparing of
their glances, as thoſe of Serictha were. Conſidering, that our Courtiers
of theſe times, are this way emulous one of another, and women are ſo
forward in offering themſelues, that they performe the office of ſuters,
as fearing leſt they ſhould not be ſolicited, yea, though it bee in honeſt
manner.
The King, who knew well enough, that a daughter was a treaſure of
ſome danger to keepe, and growing doubtfull withall leaſt (in the end)
this ſo obſtinate ſeuerity would be ſhaken, if once it came to paſſe, that
his daughter ſhould feele the piercing apprehenſions of loue, & whereof
(as yet) ſhe neuer had any experience; he determined to vſe ſome remedy
for this great concourſe of louers, and ſtrange kinde of carriage in the
Princeſſe his daughter. For, hee apparently perceiued, that ſuch excelling
beauty as was in Serictha, with thoſe good and commendable cuſtomes,
and other ornaments of his daughters mind, could neuer attaine
to ſuch an height of perfection; but yet there would be found ſome men,
ſo wittily accute and ingenious, as to conuert and humor a maid, according
to their will, and make a mockery of them, who were (before) of
moſt high eſteeme, Beſide, among ſo great a troope of Lords, as daily
made tender of their amorous ſeruice, ſome one or other would proue
ſo happy, as (at the laſt) ſhe ſhould be his Miſtreſſe. And therefore forbearing
what otherwhiſe he had intended, as a finall concluſion of all
ſuch follies: calling his daughter alone to himſel
•
e in his Chamber, and
ſtanding cleere from all other attention, hee vſed to her this, or the like
Language.
I know not faire daughter, what reaſon may moue you to ſhew your
ſelfe ſo diſdainfull towards ſo many Noble and worthy men, as come to
viſite you, and honour my Court with their preſence, offering me their
loue and loyall ſeruice, vnder this onely pretence (as I perceiue) of obtaining
you, and compaſſing the happineſſe (as it appeareth in plaine
ſtrife among them) one day to winne the prize, you being the maine iſſue
of all their hope. If it be baſhfull modeſty, which (indeede) ought to
attend on all virgins of your yeares, and ſo veyles your eyes, as (with honour)
you cannot looke on any thing, but what is your owne, or may
not iuſtly vouchſafe to ſee: I commēd your maidenly continencie, which
yet neuertheleſſe, I would not haue to bee ſo ſeuere, as (at length) your
youth falling into miſlike thereof, it may be the occaſion of ſome great
misfortune, either to you, or me, or elſe to vs both together: conſidering
what rapes are ordinarily committed in theſe quarters, and of Ladies
equall euery way to your ſelfe; which happening, would preſently
be the cauſe of my death.
If it be in regard of ſome vow which you haue conſecrated to virginity,
and to ſome one of our Gods: I ſeeke not therein to hinder your diſſeignes,
neither will bereaue the celeſtiall powers, of whatſoeuer appertaineth
to them. Albeit I could wiſh, that it ſhould bee kept in a place
more ſtraited, and ſeparate from the reſort of men; to the end, that ſo
bright a beauty as yours is, ſhould cauſe no diſcords among amorous ſuters,
neither my Court proue a Campe deſtinied vnto the concluſion of
ſuch quarrels, or you be the occaſion of ruining ſo many, whoſe ſeruice
would beſeeme a much more needfull place, then to dye heere by fond
and fooliſh opinion of enioying a vaine pleaſure, yet remaining in the
power of another bodie to grant. If therefore I ſhall perceiue, that theſe
behauiours in you do proceede from pride, or contempt of them, who
endeuour to do you both honor and ſeruice, and in ſted of granting them
a gracious looke, in arrogancie you keepe from them, making them enemies
to your folly and my ſufferance: I ſweare to you by our greateſt
God, that I will take ſuch due order, as ſhall make you feele the hand of
an offended Father, and teach you (hencefoorth) to bee much more affable.
Wherefore deere daughter, you ſhall do me a ſingular pleaſure, freely
to acquaint me with your minde, and the reaſons of your ſo ſtricte ſeuerity:
promiſing you, vpon the word and faith of a King, nay more, of
a louing and kinde Father, that if I finde the cauſe to bee iuſt and reaſonable,
I will deſiſt ſo farre from hindering your intent, as you ſhal rather
perceiue my fatherly furtherance, and reſt truly reſolued of my help and
fauour. Wherefore faire daughter, neither bluſh or diſmay, or feare to
let me vnderſtand your will; for euidently I ſee, that meere virgin ſhame
hath made a rapture of your ſoule, beeing nothing elſe but thoſe true
ſplendors of vertue deriued from your Aunceſtors, and ſhining in you
moſt gloriouſly, gracing you with a much richer embelliſhing, thē thoſe
beauties beſtowed on you by Nature. Speake therefore boldly to your
Father, becauſe there is no law to prohibit your ſpeech to him: for when
he commandeth, he ought to bee obeyed: promiſing vppon mine oath
once againe, that if your reaſons are ſuch as they ought to be, I will not
faile to accommodate your fancy.
The wiſe and vertuous Princeſſe, hearing the King to alledge ſuch gracious
reaſons, and to lay ſo kinde a command on her; making him moſt
lowe and humble reuerence, in ſigne of dutifull accepting ſuch fauour,
thus ſhe anſwered. Royall Lord and Father, ſeeing that in your Princely
Court, I haue gathered whatſoeuer may be termed vertuous in me, &
you being the principall inſtructer of my life, from whom I haue learned
thoſe leſſons, how maides (of my age) ought to gouerne and maintaine
themſelues: you ſhall apparantly perceiue, that neither gazing lookes,
which I ought not to yeelde without your conſent, nor pride or arrogancie,
neuer taughr me by you, or the Queene my moſt honourable
Lady and Mother, are any occaſion of my cariage towards them, which
come to make oſtentation of their folly in your Court, as if a meere look
of Serictha, were ſufficient to yeeld aſſurance effectually of their deſires
victory.
Nothing (my moſt Royall Lord and Father) induceth mee to this
kinde of behauiour, but onely due reſpect of your honour & mine owne:
and to the end it may not be thought, that I belye my ſelfe, in not eying
the affectionate offers of amorous purſuers, or haue any other priuate reſerued
meaning, then what may beſt pleaſe King Siwalde my Father: let
it ſuffice Sir, that it remaineth in your power onely, to make an apt election
and choice for me; for I neither ought, nor will allowe the acceptance
of any ſuters kindneſſe, ſo much as by a looke (much leſſe then by
words) vntill your Highneſſe ſhall nominate the man, to be a meete huſband
for Serictha. It is onely you then (my Lord) that beares the true
life-blood of our Anceſtors. It is the vntainted life of the Queene my
Mother, that ſets a chaſte and ſtrict reſtraint on mine eyes, from eſtranging
my heart, to the idle amorous enticements of young giddy-headed
Gentlemen, and haue ſealed vp my ſoule with an abſolute determination,
rather to make choiſe of death, then any way to alter this my warrantable
ſeuerity.
You being a wiſe King, and the worthie Father of Serictha, it is in
you to mediate, counſell, and effect, what beſt ſhall beſeeme the deſſeignes
of your daughter: becauſe it is the vertue of children, yea, and
their eternall glory and renowne, to illuſtrate the liues and memories of
their parents. It conſiſteth in you, either to grant honeſt licenſe to ſuch
Lords as deſire me, or to oppoſe them with ſuch diſcreete conditions, as
both your ſelfe may ſit free from any further afflicting, and they reſt defeated
of dangerous diſſentions, according as you foreſee what may enſue.
Which yet (neuertheleſſe) I hold as a matter impoſſible, if their diſcord
ſhould be grounded on the ſole apprehenſion of their ſoules: and
the onely preuention therof, is, not to yeeld any ſigne, glance of the eie,
or ſo much as a word more to one man then another: for, ſuch is the ſetled
diſpoſition of your daughters ſoule, and which ſhee humbly entreateth,
may ſo be ſtill ſuffered.
Many meanes there are, whereby to winne the grace of the greateſt
King, by employing their paines in worthy occaſions, anſwerable vnto
their yeeres and vertue, if any ſuch ſparkes of honour doe ſhine in their
ſoules; rather then by gaining heere any matter of ſo meane moment,
by endeauouring to ſhake the ſimplicity of a baſhfull maide: Let them
cleare the Kings high-wayes of Theeues, who make the paſſages difficult:
or let them expell Pirates from off the Seas, which make our Daniſh
coaſts euery way inacceſſible. Theſe are ſuch Noble meanes to merit,
as may throw deſerued recompence vppon them, and much more
worthily, then making Idols of Ladies lookes, or gazing for babies in
their wanton eyes. So may you beſtowe on them what is your owne,
granting Serictha to behold none, but him who you ſhall pleaſe to giue
her: for otherwiſe, you know her abſolute reſolue, neuer to looke any
liuing man in the face, but onely you my gracious Lord and Father.
The King hearing this wiſe and modeſt anſwer of his daughter, could
not chooſe but commend her in his heart; and ſmiling at the counſell
which ſhe gaue him, returned her this anſwer. Vnderſtand me wel, faire
daughter; neither am I minded to breake your determination wholly,
nor yet to gouerne my ſelfe according to your fancie. I ſtand indifferently
contented, that vntill I haue otherwiſe purpoſed, you ſhall continue
the nature of your ancient cuſtome: yet conditionally, that when I command
an alteration of your carriage, you faile not therin to declare your
obedience. What elſe remaineth beſide, for ſo ſilly a thing as a Woman
is, and for the priuate pleaſing of ſo many great Princes and Lords, I will
not endanger any of their liues; becauſe their parents and friends (being
ſenſible of ſuch loſſes) may ſeeke reuenge, perhaps to their owne ruine,
and ſome following ſcourge to my indiſcretion. For I conſider (daughter)
that I haue neighbours who ſcarſely loue me, and of whom (in time)
I may right my ſelfe, hauing receiued (by their meanes) great wrongs &
iniuries. Alſo I make no doubt, but to manage your loue-ſute with diſcretion,
and ſet ſuch a pleaſing proceednig betweene them, as neyther
ſhall beget any hatred in them towards me, nor yet offend them in their
affections purſuite, till fortune may ſmile ſo fauourably vpon ſome one
man, to reach the height of both your wiſhed deſires.
Siwalde was thus determinately reſolued, to let his daughter liue at
her owne diſcretion, without any alteration of her continued ſeueritie,
perceiuing day by day, that many came ſtill to requeſt her in mariage; &
he could not giue her to them all, nor make his choiſe of any one, leaſt
all the reſt ſhould become his enemies, and fall in quarrell one with another.
Onely this therefore was his ordination, that among ſuch a number
of amorous ſuters, he onely ſhould weare the Lawrell wreath of victory,
who could obtaine ſuch fauour of Serictha, as but to looke him in
the face. This condition ſeemed to bee of no meane difficulty, yea, and
ſo impoſſible, that many gaue ouer their amorous enterprize: whereof
Serictha was wondrouſlie ioyfull, ſeeing her ſelfe eaſed of ſuch tedious
importunitie, dulling her eares with their proffered ſeruices, and foppiſh
allegations of fantaſticke ſeruitude: ſuch as ydle-headed Louers do
vſe to proteſt before their Miſtreſſes, wherein they may beleeue them, if
they liſt.
Among all them that were thus forward in their heate of affection,
there was a young Daniſh Lord, named Ocharus, the ſonne of a Pirate,
called Hebonius, the ſame man, who hauing ſtolne the Siſter vnto King
Hunguinus, and Siſter to Siwalde, & affiancing himſelfe to her, was ſlaine
by King Haldune, and by thus killing him, enioyed both the Lady, and the
kingdome of the Gothes alſo, as her inheritance. This Ocharus, relying
much on his comelineſſe of perſon, wealth, power, and valour, but
(aboue all the reſt) on his excellent and eloquent ſpeaking; beſtowed his
beſt endeauour to obtaine Serictha, notwithſtanding the contemptible
carriage of the reſt towards him; whereupon preuailing for his acceſſe to
the Princeſſe, and admitted to ſpeake, as all the other did, he reaſoned
with her in this manner.
Whence may it proceede, Madam, that you being the faireſt and wiſeſt
Princeſſe liuing at this day in all the Northerne parts, ſhould make ſo ſmal
account of your ſelfe, as to denie that, which with honour you m
•
y yeeld
to them, as ſeeke to doe you moſt humble ſeruice; and forgetting the rank
you hold, doe refuſe to deigne them recompence in any manner whatſoeuer,
ſeeking onely to enioy you in honourable marriage? Perhaps you are
of opinion, that the gods ſhould become ſlaues to you
•
beauty, in which
reſpect, men are vtterly vnworthy to craue any ſuch acquaintance of you.
If it be ſo, I confeſſe my ſelfe conquered: But if the gods ſeeke no ſuch aſſociation
with women, and ſince they forſooke the World, they left this
legacy to vs men; I thinke you couet after none, but ſuch as are extracted
of their blood, or may make vaunt of their neere kindred and alliance to
them. I know that many haue wiſhed, and doe deſire you: I know alſo,
that as many haue requeſted you of the King your Father, but the choyce
remaineth in your power, and you being ordained the Iudge, to diſtinguiſh
the merit of all your Sutors; me thinkes you doe wrong to the office
of a Iudge; in not regarding the parties which are in ſuite, to ſentence the
deſe
•
t of the beſt and braueſt, and ſo to delay them with no more lingering.
I cannot thinke Madam, that you are ſo farre out of your ſelfe, and ſo
chill cold in your affection, but deſire of occaſions, equall to your vertue
and ſingular beauty, doe ſometime touch you feelingly, and make you to
wiſh for ſuch a man, anſwerable to the greatneſſe of your excellency.
And if it ſhould be otherwiſe (as I imagine it to be impoſſible) yet you
ought to breake ſuch an obſtinate deſigne, onely to ſatisfie the King your
Father, who can deſire nothing more, then to haue a Sonne in Law, to reuenge
him on the Tyrant of Swetia; who, as you well know, was ſometime
the murtherer of your Grand-father Hunguinus, and alſo of his Father.
If you pleaſe to vouchſafe me ſo much grace and fauour, as to make
me the man, whom your heart hath choſen to be your Husband; I ſweare
vnto you by the honour of a Souldier, that I will vndergoe ſuch ſeruice,
as the King ſhall be reuenged, you royally ſatisfied, and my ſelfe aduanced
to no meane happineſſe, by being the onely fortunate man of the
World. Gentle Princeſſe, the moſt beautifull daughter to a King, open
that indurate heart, and ſo ſoften it, that the ſweete impreſſions of loue
may be engrauen therein; ſee there the loyall purſuite of your Ocharus,
who, to ſaue his life, cannot ſo much as winne one looke from his diuine
Miſtreſſe.
This niceneſſe is almoſt meerely barbarous, that I, wiſhing to aduenture
my life prodigally in your ſeruice, you are ſo cruell, as not to deigne
recompence to this duty of mine, with the leaſt ſigne of kindneſſe that can
be imagined. Faire Serictha, if you deſire the death of your friendly ſeruant
Ocharus, there are many other meanes whereby to performe it, without
conſuming him in ſo ſmall a fire, and ſuffering him there to languiſh
without any anſwere. If you will not looke vpon me; if my face be ſo vnworthy,
that one beame of your bright Sunnes may not ſhine vpon it:
If a word of your mouth be too precious for me; make a ſigne with your
hand, either of my happineſſe or diſaſter. If your hand be enuious of mine
eaſe, let one of your women be ſhee, to pronounce the ſentence of life o
•
death; becauſe, if my life be hatefull to you, this hand of mine may ſatiſfie
your will, and ſacrifice it to the rigour of your diſdaine. But if (as I am
rather perſwaded) the ruine of your ſeruants, be againſt your more mercifull
wiſhes; deale ſo that I may perceiue it, and expreſſe what compaſſion
you haue of your Ocharus, who coueteth nothing more, then your daily
hearts eaſe and contentment, with a priuiledge of honour aboue other
Ladies. All this diſcourſe was heard by Serictha, but ſo little was ſhee
moued therewith, as ſhee was farre enough off from returning him any
anſwer, neither did any of the Gentlewomen attending on her, euer heare
her vſe the very leaſt word to any of her amorous ſollicitors, nor did ſhee
know any one of them, but by ſpeech onely, which droue them all into
an vtter deſpaire, perceiuing no poſſible meanes whereby to conquer
her.
The Hiſtories of the Northe
•
ne
〈…〉
de
••
are, that in thoſe
times, the rapes of women were not much
〈…〉
, and ſuch as purſued
any Lady or Gentlewoman with loue
〈…〉
perſwaded, that they
neuer made ſufficient proofe of the
•
〈◊〉
paſſions, if they vndertooke
not all cunning ſtratagems, with aduenture of their liues to all perils
whatſoeuer, for the rape or ſtealth of them, whom they purpoſed to
enioy in marriage. As we reade in the Gothes Hiſtory of Gramo, Sonne to
the King of Denmarke, who being impa
••
ently amourous of the daughter
to the King of the Gothes, and winning the loue of the Lady, ſtole her away,
before her Parents or friends had any notice thereof; by meanes of
which rape, there followed a moſt bloody warre betweene the Gothes and
the Danes. In recompence of which iniury, Sibdagerus, King of Norway,
being choſen chiefe Commander of the Swetians & Gothes, entred powerfully
into Denmarke, where firſt he violated the Siſter to King Gramo, and
led away her Daughter, whom in the like manner he made his Spouſe, as
the Dane had done the Daughter of Sigtruge, Prince of the Gothes.
I induce theſe briefe narrations, onely to ſhew, that while Ocharus made
honeſt and affable meanes, to win reſpect from Serictha, and vſed all honourable
ſeruices to her, as the Daughter of ſo great a Prince worthily deſerued:
ſome there were, not halfe ſo conſcientious as he, eſpecially one
of the amourous ſutors, who being weary of the ſtrange carriages of Serictha,
diſſembling to proſecute his purpoſe no further; preuailed ſo farre,
that he corrupted one of her Gouerneſſes, for ſecretly training her to ſuch
a place, where the rauiſher ſhould lie in ambuſh to carry her away, ſo to
enioy her by pollicy, ſeeing all other meanes failed for to compaſſe his
deſire.
Behold to what a kind of fooliſh rage, which giddy headed dullards
doe terme a naturall paſſion, they are led, who, being guided more by ſenſuality,
then reaſon or diſcretion, follow the braine-ſicke motions of their
raſh apprehenſions. He which purſueth, and proteſteth to loue a Lady
for her gentillity and vertue; knoweth not how to meaſure what loue is,
neither ſeeth or conceiueth, how farre the permiſſion of his owne endeauour
extendeth. Moreouer, you may obſerue, that neuer any age was ſo
groſſe, or men ſo ſimple, but euen almoſt from the beginning, auarice did
hood-winke the hearts of men, and that (with gold) the very ſtrongeſt
Fortification in the World hath beene broken, yea, and the beſt bard
gates laide wide open. Serictha, who ſhunned the ſight of all men, and neuer
diſtruſted them which kept about her; ſhee who neuer knew (except
ſome naturall ſparke gaue light to her vnderſtanding) what belonged to
the embracements of men, muſt now (without dreaming thereon) fall as
foode to the inſatiable appetite of a wretch, who compaſſed this ſurpriſall
of her, to glory in his owne lewdneſſe, and make a mocke of the Princeſſes
ſetled conſtancy.
Shee, good Lady, following the councell of her trayterous guide, went
abroade on walking, but weakely accompanied, as one that admitted no
men to attend her, which ſhee might haue repented very dearely, if Heauen
had not ſuccoured her innocency, by the helpe of him, who wiſhed
her as well as the rauiſher, though their deſires were quite contrary; the
one to enioy her by violence, but the other affecting rather to die, then
doe the leaſt act which might diſpleaſe her. No ſooner was Serictha ar
•
iued
at the deſtined place, where her falſe Gouerneſſe was to deliuer her;
but behold a ſecond Paris came, and ſeized on her, hurrying her in haſte
away, before any helpe could poſſibly reſcue her; the place being farre off
from any dwelling.
Now the rauiſher durſt not conuey her to his owne abiding, to enioy
the benefit of his purchaſe; but haled her into a ſmall thicket of trees,
where, although ſhee knew the euident perill, whereinto her ſeuere continency
had now throwne her: yet notwithſtanding, ſhee would not lift vp
her eyes, to ſee what he was that had thus ſtolne her, ſo firmely ſhee dwelt
vpon grounded deliberation, and ſuch was the vigor of her chaſte reſolue.
And albeit ſhee knew a wickedneſſe (worſe then death) preparing for her,
who had no other glory then in her vertue, and deſire to liue contentedly;
yet was ſhee no more aſtouned thereat, then if hee had led her to the
Palace of the King her Father: perſwading herſelfe, that violence done to
the body, is no preiudice to honour, when the mind is free and cleere from
conſent.
As thus this robber of beauty was preparing to maſſacre the modeſty
of the faire Princeſſe, ſhee reſiſted him with all her power, yea, and defended
her ſelfe ſo worthily, that he could not get one looke of her eye, one
kiſſe of her cheeke, nor any aduantage whatſoeuer, crying out ſhrilly, and
ſtrugling againſt him ſtrongly: her outcryes were heard by one, who little
imagined that ſhee was ſo neere, whom he loued more dearely then his
owne life, namely, Ocharus; who was walking accidentally alone in this
wood, deuiſing by what meanes hee might winne grace from his ſterne
Miſtreſſe. No ſooner tooke he knowledge of her, and ſaw her (in the
armes of another) to be rauiſhed; but he cryed out to the thiefe, ſaying,
Hand off villaine, let not ſuch a ſlaue as thou, prophane with an vnreuerend
touch the ſacred honour of ſo chaſte a Princeſſe, who deſerueth to
be more royally reſpected, then thus rudely hurried: Hand off I ſay, or
elſe I ſweare by her diuine perfections, whom I eſteeme aboue all creatures
in this World, to make thee die more miſerably, then euer any man
as yet did.
Whoſoeuer had ſeene a Lyon or an Ounce rouſe himſelfe, chafing
when any one aduentureth to rob him of his prey; and theſe with fierce
eyes, mounted creaſts, writhed tayles, and ſharpened pawes, make againſt
him that durſt ſo molleſt him. In the like manner did the rauiſher ſhew
himſelfe, and one while ſnarling, another while briſtling the darted diſdainefull
lookes at Ocharus, and ſpake to him in this manner. Vile and
baſe Sea-thiefe, as thou art, welcome to thy deſerued wages, and iuſt repayment
for thy proud preſuming. It glads my heart not a little, to meete
thee here, where thou ſhalt ſoone perceiue what good will I beare thee,
and whether thou be worthy or no to enioy the honour of this Lady, now
in mine owne abſolute poſſeſſion. It will alſo encreaſe her more ample
perſwaſion of my worth, and pleade my merit more effectually in her fauour;
when ſhee ſhall ſee what a powerfull arme I haue, to puniſh this
proud inſolence of a Pirate.
This harſh language was ſo diſtaſtfull to Ocharus, that like a Bull, made
angry by the teeth of ſome Maſtiue Dogge, or pricked by the point of a
weapon, he ran vpon his enemy, and was ſo roughly welcommed by him,
as it could not eaſily be iudged which of them had the better aduantage.
But in the end Fortune fauoured moſt the honeſt man, and Ocharus hauing
ouerthrowne the robber, hee ſmote the head of him quite from his
ſhoulders, which he preſented to her, whom he had deliuered out of ſo
great a perill, and thus he ſpake. You may now behold Madam, whether
Ocharus be a true louer of Sericthaes vertues, or no, and your knowledge
fully reſolued, at what end his affection aimeth; as alſo, how farre his honeſt
deſert extendeth, for you both to loue him, and to recompence the
loyall reſpect he hath vſed towards you. Neuer looke on the villaines face,
who ſtroue to ſhame the King your Fathers Court, by violation of theeuery,
the chaſeſt Princeſſe on the Earth; but regard Ocharus, who is readie
to ſacrifice himſelfe, if you take as much pleaſure in his ruine, as (he thinketh)
hee hath giuen you contentment, by deliuering you from this
Traytor.
Doth it not appeare vnto you Madam, that I haue as yet done enough,
whereby to be thought a worthy Husband, for the royall Daughter of
Denmarke? Haue I not ſatisfied the Kings owne Ordinance, by deliuering
his Daughter, as already I haue done? Will Serictha be ſo conſtant in her
cruelty, as not to turne her eye towards him, who expoſed his life, to no
meane perill and daunger, onely in the defence of her Chaſtity? Then
I plainely perceiue, that the wages of my deuoire, is ranked amongeſt
thoſe precedent ſeruices, which I haue performed for ſo hurtfull a beautie.
Yet gentle Princeſſe, let me tell you, my carriage hath bin of more
importance, then all the others can be, and my merit no way to be compared
with theirs; at leaſt, if you pleaſed to make account of him, who is
an vnfeigned louer of your modeſty, and deuoutly honoureth your vertuous
behauiour. And yet Madame, ſhall I haue none other anſwere
from you, but your perpetuall ſilence? Can you continue ſo obſtinate in
your opinion, in making your ſelfe ſtill as ſtrange to your Ocharus, as to
the reſt, who haue no other affection, but onely to the bare outſide of
beauty? Why then, Royall Ladie, ſeeing (at this inſtant time) all my labour
is but loſt, and your heart ſeemeth much more hardned, in acknowledging
any of my honeſt ſeruices: at leaſt yet let me bee ſo happy, as to
conduct you backe to the Palace, and reſtore you to that ſacred ſafetie,
which will be my ſoules beſt comfort to behold.
No outward ſigne of kinde acceptation, did any way expreſſe it ſelfe
in her, but rather as fearing, leſt the commodiouſneſſe of the place ſhold
incite this young Lord, to forget all honeſt reſpect, and imitate the other
in like baſeneſſe. But he, who rather wiſhed a thouſand deathes,
then any way to diſpleaſe his Miſtreſſe, as if hee were halfe doubtfull of
her ſuſpition, made offer of guiding her backe to the place, from whence
ſhee had before bene ſtolne, where ſhe found her company ſtill ſtaying,
as not daring to ſtirre thence, to let the King know his daughters ill fortune;
but when they ſaw her returne, and in the company of ſo worthie
a Knight, they grew reſolued, that no violence had bene done vnto her.
The Princeſſe, ſharpely rebuking her women, for leauing her ſo baſely
as they had done, gaue charge to one of them (becauſe ſhe would not
ſeeme altogether negligent & diſcourteous) that ſhe being gon thence,
ſhe ſhould not faile to thanke Ocharus, for the honeſt and faithfull ſeruice
he had done vnto her, which ſhe would continually remember, and
recompence as it lay in her power. Neuertheleſſe, ſhee aduiſed him
withall, not to hope of any more aduantage thereby, then reaſon ſhould
require. For, if it were the will of the Gods, that ſhe ſhould be his wife,
neither ſhe or any other could let or hinder it: but if her deſtiny reſerued
her for another, all his ſeruices would auaile to no purpoſe, but rather to
make her the more rigorous towards him.
This gracious anſwer, thus giuen him by her Gentlewoman, althogh
it gaue ſome ſmall contentment to the poore languiſhing louer: yet hee
ſaw no aſſured ſigne whereon to ſettle his reſolue, but his hopes vaniſhed
away in ſmoake, as faſt as opinion bred them in his braine. And gladly
he would haue giuen ouer all further amorous ſolicitings, but by ſome
priuate perſwaſions of her meſſage ſent him, which in time might ſo aduance
his ſeruices done for her ſake, as would deriue far greater fauours
from her. Whereupon, he omitted no time or place, but as occaſion
gaue him any gracious permiſſion, ſtill plied her memorie, with his manly
reſcuing her from the rauiſher, ſufficient to pleade his merite to her
Father, and that (in equity) ſhe ought to bee his wife, by right both of
Honour and Armes; no man being able to deſerue her, as he had done.
So long he purſued her in this maner, that his ſpeeches ſeemed hatefull
to her, and deuiſing how to be free from his daily importunities, at
length, in the habite of a poore Chamber-maide, ſhe ſecretly departed
out of the Court, wandering into the ſolitary parts of the country; where
ſhe entered into ſeruice, and had the charge of keeping Sheepe. It may
ſeeme ſtrange, that a Kings onely daughter ſhould ſtray in ſuch ſort, and
deſpiſing Courtly life, betake her ſelfe to paines and ſeruility: but ſuch
was her reſolution, and women delighting altogether in extremes, ſpare
no attempts to compaſſe their owne wils. All the Court was in an vprore
for the Ladies loſſe, the Father in no meane affliction, the Louers
well-nere beſide their wits, and euery one elſe moſt greeuouſly tormented,
that a Lady of ſuch worth ſhould ſo ſodainly be gone, and all purſuit
made after her, gaine no knowledge of her.
In this high tide of ſorrow and diſaſter, what ſhall we ſay of the gentle
Lord Ocharus? What iudgement can ſound the depth of his wofull
extreamity? Fearing leaſt ſome other theefe had now made a ſecond
ſtealth of his diuine Goddeſſe; he muſt needs follow her againe, ſeeking
quite throughout the world, neuer more rerurning backe to the Court,
nor to the place of his owne abiding, vntill hee heard tidings of his Miſtreſſe,
or ended his dayes in the ſearch of her. No Village, Town, Cottage,
Caſte, or any place elſe of note or name, did hee leaue vnſought,
but diligently he ſearched for Serictha; ſtriuing to get knowledge, vnder
what habit ſhe liued thus concealed, but all his labour was to no effect:
which made him leaue the places ſo much frequented, and viſite the ſolitary
deſert ſhades, entering into all Caues and ruſticke habitations,
whereon hee could faſten his eye, to ſeeke for the loſt Treaſure of his
ſoule.
On a day, as hee wandred along in a ſpacious valley, ſeated betweene
two pleaſant hilles, taking delight to heare the gentle murmure of the riuers,
running by the ſides of two neighbouring rockes, planted with all
kinde of trees, and very thickely ſpred with moſſe: hee eſpied a flocke of
Sheepe feeding on the graſſe, and not farre off from them ſate a Maide
ſpinning on her Diſtaffe; who hauing got a ſight of him, preſently couered
her face with a veile. Loue, who ſate as Sentinell both in the heart
and eye of the gentle Norwegian Lord, as quickly diſcouered the ſubtilty
of the faire Shephearddeſſe, enſtructing the ſoule of Ocharus, that
thus ſhe hid her face, as coueting not to be knowne: whereupon he gathered,
that doubtleſſe this was ſhee, for whom he hadde ſought with
ſuch tedious trauaile, and therefore going directly vnto her, thus hee
ſpake.
Gentle Princeſſe; wherefore do you thus hide your ſelfe from mee?
Why do you haunt theſe retreats and deſolate abodes, hauing power to
commaund ouer infinite men, that cannot liue but by your preſence?
What hath moued you Madame, to flye from company, to dwel among
deſert Rockes, and ſerue as a ſlaue, to ſuch as are no way worthy of your
ſeruice? Why do you forſake a potent King, whoſe onely daughter and
hope you are; leauing your countrey and royall traine of Ladies, and ſo
farre abaſing your ſelfe, to liue in the deiected ſtate of a ſeruant, and to
ſome ruſticke clowne or peazant? What reaſon haue you, to deſpiſe ſo
many worthy Lords, that dearely loue and honor you, but (aboue them
all) your poore ſlaue Ocharus, who hath no ſpare of his owne life, for
the ſafety of yours, and alſo for the defence of your honor? Royal maid,
I am the ſame man that deliuered you from the villaine, who would haue
violated your faire chaſtity; and ſince then, haue not ſpared any payne
or trauell in your ſearch: for whoſe loſſe, King Siwalde is in extreme anguiſh,
the Danes in mourning habites, and Ocharus euen at the doore of
death, being no way able to endure your abſence.
Are you of the minde, worthy Madame, that I haue not hitherto deſerued
ſo much as one good looke or glance of your eye, in recompence
of ſo many good & loyall ſeruices? If Alas! I am neither rauiſher, nor demander
of any vniuſt requeſts, or elſe inciuill in my motions: I may merit
one regard of my Miſtreſſe. I require onely ſo ſilly a fauour, that her
eyes may pay me the wages for all which I haue hitherto done in her ſeruice.
What would you do Madam, if I were an importunate ſolicitor,
and requeſted farre greater matters of you, in iuſt recompence of my labours?
I do not deſire, that you ſhould embrace me. I am not ſo bold,
as to requeſt a kiſſe of Sericthaes, more then immortall lips. Nor doe I
couet, that ſhe ſhould any otherwiſe entreate mee, then with ſuch ſeuerity
as beſeemeth ſo great a Princeſſe. I aske no more, but onely to eleuate
your chaſte eyes, and grace me with one little looke, as being the
man, who for his vertue and loyall affection, hath deſerued more then
that fauour, yea, a much greater and excellent recompence. Can you
then be ſo cruell, as to denie me ſo ſmall a thing, without regarde of the
maine debt, wherein you ſtand engaged to your Ocharus?
The Princeſſe perceiuing that it auailed nothing to conceale hir ſelfe,
being by him ſo apparantly diſcouered; began now to ſpeake (which ſhe
had neuer done before, either to him, or any other of her amorous ſuters)
anſwering him in this manner. Lord Orharus, it might ſuffice you,
that your importunity made me forſake my Fathers Court, and cauſeth
me to liue in this abaſed condition, which I purpoſe to proſecute all my
life time; or ſo long (at the leaſt) as you, and ſuch as you are, purſue
me ſo fondly as you haue preſumed to do. For I am reſolued, neuer to
fauour you any otherwiſe, then hitherto I haue done; deſiring you therfore,
that Serictha wanting an Interpreter to tell you her wil, you would
now receiue it from her owne mouth, determining ſooner to dye, then
alter a iot of her intended purpoſe.
Ocharus hearing this vnwelcome anſwer, was euen vpon the point to
haue ſlaine himſelfe: but yet, not to loſe the name of a valiant man, or to
be thought of an effeminate or cowardly ſpirite, that a Woman ſhould
force him to an acte, ſo farre vnfitting for a man of his ranke; hee tooke
his leaue of her, ſolemnly promiſing, not to forget her further purſuite,
but at all times to obey her ſo long as he liued, although her commaund
was very hard for him to endure. So hee departed thence, not vnto the
Court, ſhe being not there, that had the power to enioyne his preſence:
but home to his owne houſe, where he was no ſooner arriued, but he began
to waxe wearie of his former folly; accuſing himſelfe of great indiſcretion,
for ſpending ſo much time in vaine, and in her ſeruice, who vtterly
deſpiſed him, and all his endeuours which he vndertooke. He began
to accuſe her of great ingratitude, laying ouer-much reſpect vppon
her vertue, to haue no feeling at all of his loyall ſufferings; but meerely
made a mockery of his martyrdome. Heereupon, he concluded to giue
ouer all further affection, to languiſh no longer for her ſake, that hated
him and all his actions.
While he continued in theſe melancholly paſſions, the Princeſſe, who
all this while had perſiſted in ſuch ſtrict ſeuerity, as aſtoniſhed the courages
of her ſtouteſt ſeruants; conſidering (more deliberately) on the
ſincere affection of Ocharus, and that vertue onely made him the friend
to her modeſty, and not wanton or laſciuious appetite; ſhe felt a willing
readineſſe in her ſoule, to gratifie him in ſome worthy manner, and to
recompence ſome part of his trauailes. Which to effect, ſhe reſolued
to follow him (in ſome counterfeite habite) euen to the place of his own
abiding, to try, if eaſily he could take knowledge of her, whom ſo lately
he ſaw in the garments of a Shephearddeſſe. Being thus minded, ſhee
went to her Miſtreſſe whom ſhe ſerued, and who had likewiſe ſeen Lord
Ocharus (of whom ſhe had perfect knowledge) when hee conferred with
the Shephearddeſſe, and enquiring the cauſe, why hee reſorted in that
manner to her; Serictha returned her this anſwer.
Miſtreſſe, I make no doubt, but you will be ſomewhat amazed, and
(perhaps) can hardly credit when you heare, that ſhe who now ſerueth
you in the poore degree of Shephearddeſſe, is the onely daughter to Siwalde
King of the Danes: for whoſe loue, ſo many great Lords haue continually
laboured; and that I onely attracted hither Ocharus, the Noble
Sonne of valiant Hebonius, to wander in theſe ſolitary deſerts, to finde
out her that fled from him, and helde him in as high diſdaine, as I did all
the reſt of his fellow riuals. But if my words may not heerein ſufficiently
aſſure you, I would aduiſe you, to ſend where Ocharus dwelleth, & there
make further enquiry of him, to the end that you may not imagine me a
lyar. If my ſpeeches do otherwiſe preuaile with you, and you remain aſſured,
that I am ſhe, whom your Noble neighbour ſo deerely affecteth,
albeit I neuer made any account at all of him: then I do earneſtly intreat
you, ſo much to ſtand my friend, as to prouide ſome conuenient means
for me, whereby I may paſſe vnknowne to the Caſtle of Ocharus, to reuenge
my ſelfe on his ciuill honeſty, & ſmile at him hereafter, if he proue
not ſo cleerely ſighted, as to know her being neere him, whom he vaunteth
to loue aboue all women elſe.
The good Countrey-woman hearing theſe wordes, and perceyuing
that ſhe had the Princeſſe in her houſe, of whoſe ſpeeches ſhe made not
any doubt, in regard of her ſtout countenance, grauity, and faire demeanor,
began to relliſh ſomething in her minde, farre differing from matter
of common vnderſtanding, and therfore roundly replied in this kind
of language.
Madam (for ſeruant I may no longer call you) I make no queſtion to
the contrary, but that you are deriued of high birth; hauing obſerued
your behauiour, and womanly carriage. And ſo much the more I remaine
aſſured thereof, hauing ſeene ſuch great honor done vnto you, by
the Noble Lord, and worthy Warriour Ocharus: wherefore, it lieth not
in my power, to impeach your deſſeignes, much leſſe to talke of your
longer ſeruice, becauſe you are the Princeſſe Serictha, whom I am to
performe all humble dutie vnto, as being one of your meaneſt ſubiects.
And although you were not ſhee, yet would I not preſume any way to
offend you, in regarde of the true and vertuous loue, which that good
Knight Ocharus ſeemeth to beare you. If my company bee needefull for
you, I beſeech you to accept it: if not, take whatſoeuer is mine, which
may any way ſted you; for, to make you paſſe vnknowne, I can and will
prouide ſufficiently, euen to your own contentment, and in ſuch ſtrange
manner, as Ocharus (were he neuer ſo cleerely ſighted) ſhalbe deceiued,
you being attired in thoſe faſhion garments, which heere in theſe parts
are vſually worne.
Serictha being wonderouſly ioyfull at her anſwer, ſuffred hir to paint,
or rather ſoile her faire face, with the iuice of diuers hearbes and rootes,
and cloathed her in ſuch an habite as thoſe women vſe to weare that liue
in the mountaines of Norway, vpon the ſea-coaſt fronting Great-Britain.
Being thus diſguiſed, confidently ſhe went, tobeguile the eie of her deareſt
friend, and ſo to returne backe againe from him, hauing affoorded
him ſuch a ſecret fauour, in requitall of his honourable ſeruices; deliuering
her out of ſo great a danger, and comming to viſite her in ſo ſolitarie
a life. Nor would ſhe haue the womans company any further, then
till ſhe came within the ſight of Ocharus his Caſtle; where when ſhe was
arriued (he being then abſent) the mother vnto the Noble Gentleman,
gaue her courteous welcom; and, notwithſtanding her groſſe & homely
outward appearance, yet ſhe collected by her countenance, that there
was a matter of much more worth in her, then to bee a woman of baſe
breeding.
When Ocharus was returned home, he receiued aduertiſement by his
mother, concerning the arriuall of this ſtranger, when as ſodainely his
ſoule halfe perſwaded him, of ſome kinde courteſie to proceede from his
ſweet rebell, pretending now ſome feigned excuſe, in recompence of all
his trauailes, and paſſed honeſt offices. Obſeruing all her actions and
geſtures, her wonted rigour neuer bending one iot, or gaue way to her
eye to looke vpon any man; he grew the better aſſured, that ſhe was the
daughter to King Siwalde. Yet feigning to take no knowledge thereof,
he bethought himſelfe of a queint policy, whereby to make triall, whether
ſecret kindneſſe had conducted this Lady thither, or no, to conclude
his torments, and giue a final end to his greeuous afflictions.
Vpon a watch-word giuen to his Mother, he pretended, and ſo cauſed
it to be noiſed through the houſe, that he was to marry a very honorable
Lady; which the conſtant and chaſte maide verily beleeued; and
therefore gaue the more diligent attendance (as a new-come ſeruant)
to ſee all things in due decency, as no one could expreſſe her ſelfe more
ready, becauſe ſhe eſteemed him aboue all other men. Yet ſuch was the
obſtinate opinion ſhe conceiued of her owne preciſeneſſe, as ſhe would
rather ſuffer all the flames of loue, then expreſſe the leaſt ſhew of deſire
to any man liuing. Neuertheleſſe, ſhe was inwardly offended, that any
other ſhould haue the honour, to make her vaunt of enioying Ocharus;
whom (indeed) ſhe coueted, and thought him only worthy in her heart,
to be Son in law to the King of Denmarke.
Now, as the Mother was very ſeriouſly buſied in preparing the Caſtle,
for receiuing the pretended Bride; ſhee employed her new Mayde
(Serictha I meane) as buſily as any of the reſt. In the meanewhile, Ocharus
was laid vpon a bed, well noting all her carriage and behauiour, ſhee
hauing a lighted Candle in her hand, without any Candleſticke to hold
it in. As all the ſeruants (both men and maids) were running haſtily frō
place to place, to cary ſuch occaſions as they were commanded, the candle
was conſumed ſo neere to Sericthaes fingers, that it burned hir hand.
She, not to faile a iote in her height of mind, and to declare that her corage
was inuincible; was ſo farre off from caſting away the ſmall ſnuffe
which offended her, that ſhe rather graſpt it the more ſtrongly, euen to
the enflaming of her owne fleſh, which gaue light to the reſt about their
buſineſſe. A matter (almoſt) as maruellous, as the acte of the noble Romane,
who gaue his hand to be burned, in preſence of the Tuſcane King,
that had beſiedged Rome. Thus this Lady would needs make it apparantly
knowne, by this generous acte of hers, that her heart could not be enflamed
or conquered, by all the fires of concupiſcence, in ſuffering ſo
ſtoutly and couragiouſly, the burning of this materiall fire.
Ocharus, who (as we haue already ſaide) obſerued euery thing that
Serictha did; perceiuing that ſhe ſpake not one worde, albeit her hand
burned in ſuch fierce maner, was much aſtoniſhed at her ſprightly mind.
And as he was about to aduiſe her, to hurle away the fire ſo much offending
her; Cu
•
ioſitie (meerely naturall vnto Women) made the Ladie
lift vppe her eyes, to ſee (by ſtealth) whether her friend had noted
her inuincible conſtancy, or no. Heereby Ocharus won the honour
of his long expected victory; and leaping from off the bed, hee ranne to
embrace her, not with any ſuch feare as he had formerly vſed, in not daring
ſo much as to touch her: but boldly now claſping his armes about
her, he ſaid. At this inſtant Madam, the King your Fathers decree is fully
accompliſhed, for I am the firſt man that euer you lookt in the face, &
you are onely mine, without making any longer reſiſtance. You are the
Princely Lady and wife, by me ſo conſtantly loued and deſired, whom I
haue followed with ſuch painefull trauels, expoſing my life to infinite perils
in your ſeruice: you haue ſeene and lookt on him, who neuer craued
any thing of you, but onely this fauour, whereof you cannot bereaue me
againe, becauſe the Gods themſelues, at ſuch time as I leaſt expected it,
haue beſtowne it on me, as my deſerued recompence, and worthy reward.
In the deliuery of theſe words, he kiſſed and embraced her a thouſand
times, ſhee not vſing any great reſiſtance againſt him, but onely as ſomewhat
offended with her ſelfe, either for being ſo raſh in looking on him, or
elſe for delaying his due merit ſo long; or rather, becauſe with her good
will ſhee had falne into the tranſgreſſion. Shee declared no violent or contending
motion, as loath to continue ſo long in his a
•
mes; but rather, euident
ſignes of hearty contentment, yet in very baſhfull and modeſt manner,
willing enough to accept his louing kindneſſe, yet not wandring from
her wonted chaſte carriage. He being fauourably excuſed, for the outward
expreſſion of his amourous behauiour to her, and certified withall, that
ſince the time of freeing her from the wretch, who ſought the violating of
her chaſtity, ſhee had entirely reſpected him, (albeit, to ſhun ſuſpition of
lightneſſe, and to win more aſſurance, of what ſhee credited ſufficiently
already, ſhee continued her ſtiffe opinion againſt him) yet alwayes this reſolution
was ſet downe in her ſoule, neuer (with her will) to haue any other
Husband but Ocharus, who (aboue all other) had beſt deſerued her,
by his generoſity, vertue, manly courage, and valiancy; whereof he might
the better aſſure himſelfe, becauſe (of her owne vo
•
untary diſpoſition)
ſhee followed to find him out, not for any other occaſion, but to reuenge
her ſelfe (by this honeſt Office) for all that he had done or vndertaken, to
winne the grace and loue of the King of Denmarkes Daughter, to whom
he preſented ſuch dutifull ſeruice.
Ocharus, who would not looſe this happineſſe, to be made King of all
the Northerne Ilands, with more then a thankfull heart, accepted all her
gracious excuſes. And being deſirous to waſte no longer time in vaine,
leſt Fortune ſhould raiſe ſome new ſtragatem againſt him, to diſpoſſeſſe
him of ſo faire a felicity; left off his counterfet intended marriage, and effected
this in good earneſt, and was wedded to his moſt eſteemed Serictha.
Not long had theſe louers liued in the lawfull and ſacred rites of
marriage, but King Siwalde was aduertiſed, that his Daughter had giuen
her conſent to Ocharus, and receiued him as her noble Husband. The party
was not a iot diſpleaſing to him, hee thought him to be a worthy Son
in Law, and the condition did ſufficiently excuſe the match; onely herein
lay the errour and offence, that the marriage was ſollemnized without
his knowledge and conſent, he being not called thereto, or ſo much as
acquainting him therewith, which made him condemne Ocharus of ouerbold
arrogancy, he being ſuch a great and powerfull King, to be ſo
lightly reſpected by his Subiect, and eſpecially in the marriage of his
Daughter.
But Serictha, who was now metamorphoſed from a maide to a wife,
and had lyen a few nights by the ſide of a Soldiour, was become much
more valiant and aduenturous then ſhe was before. She took the matter
in hand, went to her Father, who welcommed her moſt louingly, and ſo
pleaſing were her ſpeeches, carried with ſuch wit and womanly diſcretion,
that nothing wanted to approue what ſhe had done. Matters which
he had neuer knowne, or ſo much as heard of, were now openly reuealed,
how Ocharus had deliuered her from the rauiſher, what worthie reſpect
he then vſed towards her, and what honour he extended to her in
the deſerts, where ſhe tended her flocke as a Shephearddeſſe, with manie
other honourable actions beſide: that the Kings anger became mildely
qualified, and ſo farre he entred into affection, that he would not do any
thing thence-forward, without the counſell and aduiſe of his Sonne in
Law, whom ſo highly he eſteemed, and liked ſo reſpectiuely of him, and
his race; that his Queene dying, hee married with the Siſter to Ocharus,
going hand in hand with the gentle and modeſt Princeſſe Serictha.
This Nouell of Dioneus, was commended by all the company, and ſo
much the rather, becauſe it was free from all folly and obſcoenneſſe. And
the Queene perceiuing, that as the Tale was ended, ſo her dignitie muſt
now be expired: ſhe tooke the Crowne of Laurell from off her head, &
graciouſly placed it on the head of Philoſtratus, ſaying; The worthy Diſcourſe
of Dioncus, being out of his wonted wanton element, cauſeth mee
(at the reſignation of mine Authority) to make choiſe of him as our next
Commander, who is beſt able to order and enſtruct vs all; and ſo I yeeld
both my place and honour to Philoſtratus, I hope with the good liking of
all our aſſiſtants: as plainly appeareth by their inſtant carriage towards
him, with all their heartieſt loue and ſufferages.
Whereupon Philostratus, beginning to conſider on the charge committed
to his care, called the Maiſter of the houſhold, to knowe in what
eſtate all matters were, becauſe where any defect appeared, euerie thing
might be the ſooner remedied, for the better ſatisfaction of the company,
during the time of his authority. Then returning backe to the aſſembly,
thus he began. Louely Ladies, I would haue you to knowe, that
ſince the time of ability in me, to diſtinguiſh betweene good and euill, I
haue alwayes bene ſubiect (perhaps by the meanes of ſome beautie heere
among vs) to the proud and imperious dominion of loue, with expreſſion
of all duty, humility, and moſt intimate deſire to pleaſe: yet all hath
prooued to no purpoſe, but ſtill I haue bin reiected for ſome other, wherby
my condition hath falne from ill to worſe, and ſo ſtill it is likely, euen
to the houre of my death. In which reſpect, it beſt pleaſeth me, that our
conferences to morrow, ſhal extend to no other argument, but only ſuch
caſesas are moſt conformable to my calamity, namely of ſuch, whoſe loue
hath had vnhappy ending, becauſe I await no other iſſue of mine; nor willingly
would I be called by any other name, but onely, the miſerable and
vnfortunate Louer.
Hauing thus ſpoken, he aroſe againe; granting leaue to the reſt, to recreate
themſelues till ſupper time. The Garden was very faire and ſpacious,
affoording large limits for their ſeuerall walkes; the Sun being already
ſo low deſcended, that it could not be offenſiue to any one, the Connies,
Kids, and young Hindes skipping euery where about them, to their
no meane pleaſure and contentment. Dioneus & Fiammetta, ſate ſingi
•
g
together, of Meſsire Guiglielmo and the Lady of Vertue. Philomena and
Pamphilus playing at the Cheſſe, all ſporting themſelues as beſt they
pleaſed. But the houre of Supper being come, and the Tables couered
about the faire fountaine, they ſate downe and ſupt in moſt louing manner.
Then Philostratus, not to ſwerue from the courſe which had beene
obſerued by the Queenes before him, ſo ſoone as the Tables were taken
away, gaue command, that Madam Lauretta ſhould beginne the dance,
and likewiſe to ſing a Song. My gracious Lord (quoth ſhee) I can skill
of no other Songs, but onely a peece of mine owne, which I haue already
learned by heart, & may well beſeeme this faire aſſembly: if you pleaſe
to allow of that, I am ready to performe it with all obedience. Lady, replyed
the King, you your ſelfe being ſo faire and louely, ſo needs muſt be
whatſoeuer commeth from you, therefore let vs heare ſuch as you haue.
Madam Lauretta, giuing enſtruction to the Chorus, prepared, and began
in this manner.
The Song.
NO ſoule ſo comfortleſſe,
Hath more cauſe to expreſſe,
Like woe and heauineſſe,
As I poore amorous Maide.
He that did forme the Heauens and euery Starre,
Made me as beſt him pleaſed,
Louely and gracious, no Element at iarre,
Or elſe in gentle breaſts to mooue ſterne Warre,
But to haue ſtrifes appeaſed
Where Beauties eye ſhould make the deepeſt ſcarre.
And yet when all things are confest,
Neuer was any ſoule diſtrest,
Like mine poore amorous Maide.
No ſoule ſo comfortleſſe, &c.
There was a time, when once I was helde deare,
Bleſt were thoſe happy dayes:
Numberleſſe Loue-ſuites whiſpred in mine eare,
All of faire hope, but none of deſperate feare;
And all ſung Beauties praiſe.
Why ſhould blacke clowdes obſcure ſo bright a cleare?
And why ſhould others ſwimme in ioy,
And no heart drowned in annoy,
Like mine poore amorous Maide?
No ſoule ſo comfortleſſe, &c.
Well may I curſe that ſad and diſmall day,
When in vnkinde exchange;
Another Beauty did my hopes betray,
And ſtole my deareſt Loue from me away:
Which I thought very ſtrange,
Conſidering vowes were paſt, and what elſe may
Aſſure a loyall Maidens trust,
Neuer was Louer ſo vniust,
Like mine poore amorous Maide.
No ſoule ſo comfortleſſe, &c.
Come then kinde Death, and finiſh all my woes,
Thy helpe is now the best.
Come louely Nymphes, lend hands mine eyes to cloſe,
And let him wander whereſoere he goes,
Vaunting of mine vnreſt;
Beguiling others by his treacherous ſhowes.
Graue on my Monument,
No true loue was worſe ſpent,
Then mine poore amorous Maide.
No ſoule ſo comfortleſſe, &c.
So did Madam Lauretta finiſh her Song, which beeing well obſerued of
them all, was vnderſtood by ſome in diuers kinds: ſome alluding it one
way, & others according to their own apprehenſions, but all conſenting,
that both it was an excellent Ditty, well deuiſed, and moſt ſweetly ſung.
Afterward, lighted Torches being brought, becauſe the Stars had already
richly ſpangled all the heauens, and the fit houre of reſt approaching:
the King commanded them all to their Chambers, where wee meane to
leaue them vntill the next morning.
The End of the Third Day.
The Fourth Day.
❧ Wherein all the ſeuerall Diſcourſes, are vnder the Gouernment of Honourable Philoſtratus: And concerning ſuch perſons, whoſe Loues haue had ſucceſſeleſſe ending.
The Induction vnto the enſuing Nouelles.
MOſt worthy Ladies, I haue alwayes heard, as well
by the ſayings of the iudicious, as alſo by mine
owne obſeruation and reading, that the impetuous
and violent windes of enuy, do ſildome blow
turbulently; but on the higheſt Towers and tops
of the trees moſt eminently aduanced. Yet (in
mine opinion) I haue found my ſelfe much deceiued;
becauſe, by ſtriuing with my very vttermoſt
endeauour, to ſhunne the outrage of thoſe implacable winds; I haue laboured
to go, not onely by plaine and euen pathes, but likewiſe through
the deepeſt vallies. As very eaſily may be ſeene and obſerued in the reading
of theſe few ſmall Nouels, which I haue written not only in our vulgar
Florentine proſe, without any ambitious title: but alſo in a moſt humble
ſtile, ſo low and gentle as poſſibly I could. And although I haue bene
rudely ſhaken, yea, almoſt halfe vnrooted, by the extreame agitation of
thoſe bluſtering winds, and torne in peeces by that baſe back-biter, enuy:
yet haue I not (for all that) diſcontinued, or broken any part of mine intended
enterprize. Wherefore, I can ſufficiently witneſſe (by mine owne
comprehenſion) the ſaying ſo much obſerued by the wiſe, to bee moſt
true; That nothing is without enuy in this world, but miſery onely.
Among variety of opinions, faire Ladies; ſome, ſeeing theſe Nouelties,
ſpared not to ſay; That I haue bene ouer-pleaſing to you, and wandered
too farre from mine reſpect, imbaſing my credit and repute, by delighting
my ſelfe too curiouſly, for the fitting of your honours, and haue
extolled your worth too much, with addition of worſe ſpeeches then I
meane to vtter. Others, ſeeming to expreſſe more maturity of iudgment,
haue likewiſe ſaid, That it was very vnſuteable for my yeares, to meddle
with womens wanton pleaſures, or contend to delight you by the verie
leaſt of my labors. Many more, making ſhew of affecting my good fame
and eſteeme, ſay; I had done much more wiſely, to haue kept mee with
the Muſes at Parnaſſus, then to confound my ſtudies with ſuch effeminate
follies. Some other beſide, ſpeaking more deſpightfully then diſcreetly,
ſaide; I had declared more humanity, in ſeeking means for mine
owne maintenance, and wherewith to ſupport my continual neceſsities,
then to glut the worlde with gulleries, and feede my hopes with nothing
but winde. And others, to calumniate my trauailes, would make you beleeue,
that ſuch matters as I haue ſpoken of, are meerly diſguiſed by me,
and figured in a quite contrary nature, quite from the courſe as they are
related. Whereby you may perceiue (vertuous Ladies) how while I labour
in your ſeruice, I am agitated and molleſted with theſe bluſterings,
and bitten euen to the bare bones, by the ſharpe and venomous teeth of
enuy; all which (as heauen beſt knoweth) I gladly endure, and with good
courage.
Now, albeit it belongeth onely to you, to defend me in this deſperate
extremity; yet, notwithſtanding all their vtmoſt malice, I will make no
ſpare of my beſt abilities, and, without anſwering them any otherwiſe
then is fitting, will quickely keepe their ſlanders from mine eares, with
ſome ſleight reply, yet not deſeruing to be dreamt on. For I apparantly
perceiue, that (hauing not already attained to the third part of my pains)
they are growne to ſo great a number, and preſume very farre vppon my
patience: they may encreaſe, except they be repul
•
ed in the beginning,
to ſuch an infinitie before I can reach to the end, as with their verie leaſt
paines taking, they will ſinke me to the bottomleſſe depth, if your ſacred
forces (which are great indeede) may not ſerue for me in their reſiſtance.
But before I come to anſwer any one of them, I will relate a Tale in mine
owne fauour; yet not a whole Tale, becauſe it ſhall not appeare, that I
purpoſe to mingle mine, among thoſe which are to proceed from a company
ſo commendable. Onely I will report a parcell thereof, to the end,
that what remaineth vntold, may ſufficiently expreſſe, it is not to be numbred
among the reſt to come.
By way then of familiar diſcourſe, and ſpeaking to my malicious detractors,
I ſay, that a long while ſince, there liued in our City, a Citizen who
was named Philippo Balduccio, a man but of meane condition, yet verie
wealthy, well qualified, and expert in many things appertaining vnto his
calling. He had a wife whom he loued moſt intirely, as ſhe did him, leading
together a ſweet and peaceable life, ſtudying on nothing more, then
how to pleaſe each other mutually. It came to paſſe, that as all fleſh muſt,
the good woman left this wretched life for a better, leauing one onely
ſonne to her husband, about the age of two yeares. The husband remained
ſo diſconſolate for the loſſe of his kinde Wife, as no man poſsibly
could be more ſorrowfull, becauſe he had loſt the onely iewell of his ioy.
And being thus diuided from the company which he moſt eſteemed: he
determined alſo to ſeparate himſelfe from the world, addicting al his endeuours
to the ſeruice of God; and applying his yong ſonne likewiſe, to
the ſame holy exerciſes. Hauing giuen away all his goods for Gods ſake,
he departed to the Mountaine Aſinaio, where he made him a ſmall Cell,
and liued there with his little ſonne, onely vpon charitable almes, in abſtinence
and prayer, forbearing to ſpeak of any worldly occaſions, or letting
the Lad ſee any vaine ſight: but conferred with him continually, on
the glories of eternall life, of God and his Saints, and teaching him nothing
elſe but deuout prayers, leading this kinde of life for many yeares
together, not permitting him euer to goe forth of the Cell, or ſhewing
him any other but himſelfe.
The good old man vſed diuers times to go to Florence, where hauing
receiued (according to his opportunities) the almes of diuers well diſpoſed
people, he returned backe againe to his hermitage. It fortuned, that
the boy being now about eighteene yeeres olde, and his Father growne
very aged; he demanded of him one day, whether hee went? Wherein
the old man truly reſolued him: whereuppon, the youth thus ſpake vnto
him. Father, you are now growne very aged, and hardly can endure ſuch
painfull trauell: why do you not let me go to Florence, that by making
me knowne to your well diſpoſed friends, ſuch as are deuoutly addicted
both to God, and you; I, who am young, and better able to endure trauaile
then you are, may go thither to ſupply our neceſſities, and you take
your eaſe in the mean while? The aged man, perceiuing the great growth
of his Sonne, and thinking him to be ſo well inſtructed in Gods ſeruice,
as no wordly vanities could eaſily allure him from it; did not diſlike the
Lads honeſt motion, but when he went next to Florence, tooke him thither
along with him.
When he was there, and had ſeene the goodly Palaces, Houſes, and
Churches, with all other ſights to be ſeene in ſo populous a Cittie: hee
began greatly to wonder at them, as one that had neuer ſeene them before,
at leaſt within the compaſſe of his remembrance; demanding many
things of his Father, both what they were, and how they were named:
wherein the old man ſtill reſolued him. The anſwers ſeemed to content
him highly, and cauſed him to proceede on in further queſtionings, according
ſtill as they found freſh occaſions: till at the laſt, they met with
a troope of very beautifull women, going on in ſeemely manner together,
as returning backe from a Wedding. No ſooner did the youth behold
them, but he demanded of his Father, what things they were; wherto
the olde man replyed thus. Sonne, caſt downe thy lookes vnto the
ground, and do not ſeeme to ſee them at all, becauſe they are bad things
to behold. Bad things Father? anſwered the Lad: How do you call them?
The good olde man, not to quicken any concupiſcible appetite in the
young boy, or any inclinable deſire to ought but goodneſſe; would not
terme them by their proper name of Women, but tolde him that they
were called young Gozlings.
Heere grew a matter of no meane meruaile, that hee who had neuer
ſeene any women before now; appeared not to reſpect the faire Churches,
Palaces, goodly horſes, Golde, Siluer, or any thing elſe which he
had ſeene; but, as fixing his affection onely vpon this ſight, ſodainly ſaid
to the old man. Good Father, do ſo much for me, as to let me haue one
of theſe Gozlings. Alas Sonne (replyed the Father) holde thy peace I
pray thee, and do not deſire any ſuch naughty thing. Then by way of demand,
he thus proceeded, ſaying. Father, are theſe naughty things made
of themſelues? Yes Sonne, anſwered the old man. I know not Father
(quoth the Lad) what you meane by naughtineſſe, nor why theſe goodly
things ſhould be ſo badly termed; but in my iudgement, I haue not ſeene
any thing ſo faire and pleaſing in mine eye, as theſe are, who excell thoſe
painted Angels, which heere in the Churches you haue ſhewn me. And
therefore Father, if either you loue me, or haue any care of me, let mee
haue one of thſe Gozlings home to our Cell, where we can make means
ſufficient for her feeding. I will not (ſaid the Father) be ſo much thine enemy,
becauſe neither thou, or I, can rightly skill of their feeding. Perceiuing
preſently, that Nature had farre greater power then his Sonnes
capacity and vnderſtanding; which made him repent, for fondly bringing
his ſonne to Florence.
Hauing gone ſo farre in this fragment of a Tale, I am content to pauſe
heere, and will returne againe to them of whom I ſpake before; I meane
my enuious deprauers: ſuch as haue ſaide (faire Ladies) that I am double
blame-worthy, in ſeeking to pleaſe you, and that you are alſo ouerpleaſing
to me; which freely I confeſſe before all the world, that you are
ſingularly pleaſing to me, and I haue ſtrouen how to pleaſe you effectually.
I would demand of them (if they ſeeme ſo much amazed heereat,)
conſidering, I neuer knew what belonged to true-loue kiſſes, amorous
embraces, and their delectable fruition, ſo often receiued from your graces;
but onely that I haue ſeene, and do yet daily behold, your commendable
conditions, admired beauties, noble adornments by nature, and
(aboue all the reſt) your womenly and honeſt conuerſation. If hee that
was nouriſhed, bred, and educated, on a ſauage ſolitary Mountain, within
the confines of a poore ſmall Cell, hauing no other company then his
Father: If ſuch a one, I ſay, vppon the very firſt ſight of your ſexe, could
ſo conſtantly confeſſe, that women were onely worthy of affection, and
the obiect which (aboue all things elſe) he moſt deſired; why ſhould theſe
contumelious ſpirits ſo murmure againſt me, teare my credite with their
teeth, and wound my reputation to the death, becauſe your vertues are
pleaſing to mee, and I endeauour likewiſe to pleaſe you with my vtmoſt
paines? Neuer had the auſpitious heauens allowed me life, but onely to
loue you; and from my very infancie, mine intentions haue alwaies bene
that way bent: feeling what vertue flowed from your faire eies, vnderſtanding
the mellifluous accents of your ſpeech, whereto the enkindled
flames of your ſighes gaue no meane grace. But remembring eſpecially,
that nothing could ſo pleaſe an Hermite, as your diuine perfections, an
vnnurtured Lad, without vnderſtanding, and little differing from a meere
brutiſh beaſt: vndoubtedly, whoſoeuer loueth not women, and deſireth
to be affected of them againe; may well be ranked among theſe women-haters,
ſpeaking out of cankred ſpleene, and vtterly ignorant of the ſacred
power (as alſo the vertue) of naturall affection, whereof they ſeeming ſo
careleſſe, the like am I of their deprauing.
Concerning them that touch me with mine age; Do not they know,
that although Leeks haue white heads, yet the blades of them are alwaies
greene? But referring them to their flouts and taunts, I anſwer, that I ſhal
neuer hold it any diſparagement to mee, ſo long as my life endureth, to
delight my ſelfe with thoſe exerciſes, which Guido Caualconti, and Dante
Alighieri, already aged, as alſo Meſſer Cino de Piſtoia, older then either of
them both, held to be their chiefeſt honour. And were it not a wandering
too farre from our preſent argument, I would alledge Hiſtories to
approoue my words, full of very ancient and famous men, who in the ripeſt
maturity of all their time, were carefully ſtudious for the contenting
of women, albeit theſe cock-braines neither know the way how to do it,
nor are ſo wiſe as to learne it.
Now, for my dwelling at Parnaſſus with the Muſes, I confeſſe their
counſell to be very good: but wee cannot alwayes continue with them,
nor they with vs. And yet neuertheleſſe, when any man departeth from
them, they delighting themſelues, to ſee ſuch things as may bee thought
like them, do not therein deſerue to be blamed. Wee finde it recorded,
that the Muſes were women, and albeit women cannot equall the performance
of the Muſes; yet in their very prime aſpect, they haue a liuely reſemblance
with the Muſes: ſo that, if women were pleaſing for nothing
elſe, yet they ought to be generally pleaſing in that reſpect. Beſide all
this, women haue bin the occaſion of my compoſing a thouſand Verſes,
whereas the Muſes neuer cauſed me to make ſo much as one. Verie true
it is, that they gaue me good aſſiſtance, and taught me how I ſhold compoſe
them, yea, and directed me in writing of theſe Nouels. And how
baſely ſoeuer they iudge of my ſtudies, yet haue the Muſes neuer ſcorned
to dwell with me, perhaps for the reſpectiue ſeruice, and honourable reſemblance
of thoſe Ladies with themſelues, whoſe vertues I haue not
ſpared to commend by them. Wherefore, in the compoſition of theſe
varieties, I haue not ſtrayed ſo farre from Parnaſſus, nor the Muſes; as in
their ſilly coniectures they imagine.
But what ſhall I ſay to them, who take ſo great compaſſion on my pouertie,
as they aduiſe me to get ſomething, whereon to make my liuing?
Aſſuredly, I know not what to ſay in this caſe, except by due conſideration
made with my ſelfe, how they would anſwer mee, if neceſſitie ſhould
driue me to craue kindneſſe of them; queſtionles, they would then ſay:
Goe, ſeeke comfort among thy fables and follies. Yet I would haue them
know, that poore Poets haue alwayes found more among their fables &
fictions; then many rich men euer could do, by ranſacking all their bags
of treaſure. Beſide, many other might be ſpoken of, who made their age
and times to flouriſh, meerely by their inuentions and fables: whereas on
the contrary, a great number of other buſier braines, ſeeking to gaine
more then would ſerue them to liue on; haue vtterly runne vppon their
owne ruine, and ouerthrowne themſelues for euer. What ſhould I ſay
more? To ſuch men, as are either ſo ſuſpitious of their owne charitie, or
of my neceſſity, whenſoeuer it ſhall happen: I can anſwere (I thanke my
God for it) with the Apoſtle; I know how to abou
•
d, & how to abate,
yea, how to endure both proſperity and want; and therefore, let no man
be more carefull of me, then I am of my ſelfe.
For them that are ſo inquiſitiue into my diſcourſes, to haue a further
conſtruction of them, then agrees with my meaning, or their own good
manners, taxing me with writing one thing, but intending another; I
could wiſh, that their wiſedom would extend ſo farre, as but to compare
them with their originals, to finde them a iot diſcordant from my writing;
and then I would freely confeſſe, that they had ſome reaſon to reprehend
me, and I ſhould endeuour to make them amends. But vntill
they can touch me with any thing elſe, but words onely; I muſt let them
wander in their owne giddy opinions, and followe the courſe proiected
to my ſelfe, ſaying of them, as they do of me.
Thus holding them all ſufficiently anſwered for this time, I ſay (moſt
worthy Ladies) that by heauens aſſiſtance and yours, whereto I onely
leane: I will proceede on, armed with patience; and turning my backe
againſt theſe impetuous windes, let them breath till they burſt, becauſe I
ſee nothing can happen to harme me, but onely the venting of their malice.
For the rougheſt blaſtes, do but raiſe the ſmalleſt duſt from off the
ground, driuing it from one place to another; or, carrying it vp to the
aire, many times it falleth downe againe on mens heads, yea, vpon the
Crownes of Emperors and Kings, and ſometimes on the higheſt Palaces
and tops of Towers; from whence, if it chance to deſcend again by contrarie
blaſts, it can light no lower, then whence it came at the firſt. And
therefore, if euer I ſtroue to pleaſe you with my vttermoſt abilities in any
thing, ſurely I muſt now contend to expreſſe it more then euer. For, I
know right well, that no man can ſay with reaſon, except ſome ſuch as
my ſelfe, who loue and honour you, that we do any otherwiſe then as nature
hath commanded vs; and to reſiſt her lawes, requires a greater and
more powerfull ſtrength then ours: and the contenders againſt her ſupreame
priuiledges, haue either laboured meerely in vaine, or elſe incurred
their owne bane. Which ſtrength, I freely confeſſe my ſelfe not to
haue, neither couet to be poſſeſſed of it in this caſe: but if I had it, I wold
rather lend it to ſome other, then any way to vſe it on mine own behalfe.
Wherefore, I would aduiſe them that thus checke and controule mee, to
giue ouer, and be ſilent; and if their cold humors cannot learne to loue,
let them liue ſtill in their froſtie complexion, delighting thēſelues in their
corrupted appetites: ſuffering me to enioy mine owne, for the litle while
I haue to liue; and this is all the kindneſſe I require of them.
But now it is time (bright beauties) to returne whence we parted, and
to follow our former order begun, becauſe it may ſeeme we haue wandered
too farre. By this time the Sun had chaſed the Starre-light from the
heauens, and the ſhadie moiſture from the ground, when Philoſtratus the
King being riſen, all the company aroſe likewiſe. When being come into
the goodly Garden, they ſpent the time in varietie of ſports, dining
where they had ſupt the night before. And after that the Sun was at his
higheſt, and they had refreſhed their ſpirits with a little ſlumbering, they
ſate downe (according to cuſtome) about the faire Fountaine. And then
the King commanded Madam Fiammeta, that ſhe ſhould giue beginning
to the dayes Nouels: when ſhe, without any longer delaying, be gan in
this gracious manner.
Tancrede, Prince of Salerne, cauſed the amorous friend of his daughter to be ſlaine, and ſent her his heart in a cup of Gold: which afterward ſhe ſteeped in an impoyſoned water, and then drinking it, ſo dyed.
The firſt Nouell.
Wherein is declared the power of Loue, and their cruelty iuſtly reprehended, who imagine to make the vigour thereof ceaſe, by abuſing or killing one of the Louers.
OVR King (moſt Noble and vertuous Ladies) hath
this day giuen vs a ſubiect, very rough and ſtearne
to diſcourſe on, and ſo much the rather, if we conſider,
that we are come hither to be merry & pleaſant,
where ſad Tragicall reports are no way ſuteable,
eſpecially, by reuiuing the teares of others,
to bedew our owne checkes withall. Nor can any
ſuch argument be ſpoken of, without mouing compaſſion
both in the reporters, and hearers. But (perhaps) it was his highneſſe
pleaſure, to moderate the delights which we haue already had. Or
whatſoeuer elſe hath prouoked him thereto, ſeeing it is not lawfull for
mee, to alter or contradict his appointment; I will recount an accident
very pittifull, or rather moſt vnfortunate, and well worthy to bee graced
with our teares.
Tancrede, Prince of Salerne (which City, before the Conſulles of Rome
held dominion in that part of Italy, ſtoode free, and thence (perchance)
tooke the moderne title of a Principality) was a very humane Lord, and
of ingenious nature; if, in his elder yeares, he had not ſoiled his hands in
the blood of Louers, eſpecially one of them, being both neere and deere
vnto him. So it fortuned, that during the whole life time of this Prince,
he had but one onely daughter (albeit it had bene much better, if he had
had none at all) whom he ſo choiſely loued and eſteemed, as neuer was
any childe more deerely affected of a Father: and ſo farre extended his
ouer-curious reſpect of her, as he would ſildome admit her to be foorth
of his ſight; neither would he ſuffer her to marry, although ſhe had outſtept
(by diuers yeares) the age meete for marriage. Neuertheleſſe, at
length, he matched her with the Sonne to the Duke of Capua, who liued
no long while with her; but left her in a widdowed eſtate, and then ſhee
returned home to her father againe.
This Lady, had all the moſt abſolute perfections, both of fauour and
feature, as could be wiſhed in any woman, yong, queintly diſpoſed, and
of admirable vnderſtanding, more (perhappes) then was requiſite in ſo
weake a bodie. Continuing thus in Court with the King her Father, who
loued her beyond all his future hopes; like a Lady of great and glorious
magnificence, ſhe liued in all delights & pleaſure. She well perceiuing,
that her Father thus exceeding in his affection to her, had no mind at all
of re-marrying her, and holding it moſt immodeſt in her, to ſolicite him
with any ſuch ſuite: concluded in her mindes priuate conſultations, to
make choiſe of ſome one eſpeciall friend or fauorite (if Fortune would
proue ſo furtherous to her) whom ſhe might acquaint ſecretly, with her
ſober, honeſt, and familiar purpoſes. Her Fathers Court beeing much
frequented, with plentifull acceſſe of braue Gentlemen, and others of inferiour
quality, as commonly the Courts of Kings & Princes are, whoſe
carriage and demeanor ſhe very heedfully obſerued. There was a yong
Gentleman among all the reſt, a ſeruant to her Father, and named Guiſcardo,
a man not deriued from any great deſcent by bloode, yet much
more Noble by vertue and commendable behauiour, then appeared in
any of the other, none pleaſed her opinion, like as he did; ſo that by often
noting his parts and perfections, her affection being but a glowing
ſparke at the firſt, grewe like a Bauin to take flame, yet kept ſo cloſely as
poſſibly ſhe could; as Ladies are warie enough in their loue.
The yong Gentleman, though poore, being neither blocke nor dullard,
perceiued what he made no outward ſhew of, and vnderſtood himſelfe
ſo ſufficiently, that holding it no meane happineſſe to bee affected
by her, he thought it very baſe and cowardly in him, if he ſhould not expreſſe
the like to her againe. So louing mutually (yet ſecretly) in this maner,
and ſhee coueting nothing more, then to haue priuate conference
with him, yet not daring to truſt any one with ſo important a matter; at
length ſhe deuiſed a new cunning ſtratageme, to compaſſe her longing
deſire, and acquaint him with her priuate purpoſe, which proued to bee
in this manner. Shee wrote a Letter, concerning what was the next day
to be done, for their ſecret meeting together; and conueying it within
the ioynt of an hollow Cane, in ieſting maner threw it to Guiſcardo, ſaying;
Let your man make vſe of this, inſted of a paire of bellowes, when
he meaneth to make fire in your chamber. Guiſcardo taking vp the Cane,
and conſidering with himſelfe, that neither was it giuen, or the wordes
thus ſpoken, but doubtleſſe on ſome important occaſion: went vnto his
lodging with the Cane, where viewing it reſpectiuely, he found it to be
cleft, and opening it with his knife, found there the written Letter encloſed.
After he had reade it, and well conſidered on the ſeruice therein concerned;
he was the moſt ioyfull man of the world, and began to contriue
his apteſt meanes, for meeting with his gracious Miſtreſſe, and according
as ſhe had giuen him direction. In a corner of the Kings Palace, it
being ſeated on a riſing hill, a caue had long beene made in the body of
the ſame hill, which receiued no light into it, but by a ſmall ſpiracle or
vent-loope, made our ingeniouſly on the hils ſide. And becauſe it hadde
not in long time bene frequented, by the acceſſe of any body, that ventlight
was ouer-growne with briars and buſhes, which almoſt engirt it
round about. No one could deſcend into this caue or vault, but only by a
ſecret paire of ſtaires, anſwering to a lower Chamber of the Palace, and
very neere to the Princeſſes lodging, as beeing altogether at her command,
by meanes of a ſtrong barred and defenſible doore, whereby to
mount or deſcend at her pleaſure. And both the caue it ſelfe, as alſo the
degrees conducting downe into it, were now ſo quite worne out of memory
(in regard it had not bene viſited by any one in long time before)
as no man remembred that there was any ſuch thing.
But Loue, from whoſe bright diſcerning eies, nothing can be ſo cloſely
concealed, but at the length it commeth to light: had made this amorous
Lady mindefull thereof, and becauſe ſhe would not bee diſcouered
in her intention, many dayes together, her ſoule became perplexed; by
what meanes that ſtrong doore might beſt be opened, before ſhee could
compaſſe to performe it. But after that ſhe had found out the way, and
gone downe her ſelfe alone into the caue; obſeruing the loope-light, &
had made it commodious for her purpoſe, ſhee gaue knowledge thereof
to Guiſcardo, to haue him deuiſe an apt courſe for his deſcent, acquainting
him truly with the height, and how farre it was diſtant from the ground
within. After he had found the ſouſpirall in the hils ſide, and giuen it a
larger entrance for his ſafer paſſage; he prouided a Ladder of cords, with
ſteppes ſufficient for his deſcending and aſcending, as alſo a wearing ſute
made of leather, to keepe his skinne vnſcratched of the thornes, and to auoide
all ſuſpition of his reſorting thither. In this manner went he to the
ſaide loope-hole the night following, and hauing faſtened the one end of
his corded ladder, to the ſtrong ſtumpe of a tree being cloſely by it; by
meanes of the ſaide ladder, he deſcended downe into the caue, and there
attended the comming of his Lady.
She, on the morrow morning, pretending to her waiting woman, that
ſhe was ſcarſly well, and therefore would not be diſeaſed the moſt part of
that day; commanded them to leaue her alone in her Chamber, and not
to returne vntill ſhe called for them, locking the doore her ſelfe for better
ſecurity. Then opened ſhe the doore of the caue, and going downe
the ſtaires, found there her amorous friend Guiſcardo, whom ſhe ſaluting
with a chaſte and modeſt kiſſe; cauſed him to aſcend vp the ſtayres with
her into her chamber. This long deſired, and now obtained meeting,
cauſed the two deerely affecting Louers, in kinde diſcourſe of amorous
argument (without inciuill or rude demeanor) to ſpend there the moſt
part of that day, to their hearts ioy and mutuall contentment. And hauing
concluded on their often meeting there, in this cunning & concealed
ſort; Guiſcardo went downe into the caue againe, the Princeſſe making
the doore faſt after him, and then went forth among her Women.
So in the night ſeaſon, Guiſcardo aſcended vppe againe by his Ladder of
cords, and couering the loope-hole with brambles and buſhes, returned
(vnſeene of any) to his owne lodging: the caue being afterward guilty of
their often meeting there in this manner.
But Fortune, who hath alwayes bin a fatall enemy to louers ſtolne felicities,
became enuious of their thus ſecret meeting, and ouerthrew (in
an inſtant) all their poore happineſſe, by an accident moſt ſpightfull and
malicious. The King had vſed diuers dayes before, after dinner time, to
reſort all alone to his daughters Chamber, there conuerſing with her in
moſt louing manner. One vnhappy day amongſt the reſt, when the Princeſſe,
being named Ghiſmonda, was ſporting in her priuat Garden among
her Ladies, the King (at his wonted time) went to his daughters Chamber,
being neither heard or ſeene by any. Nor would he haue his daughter
called from her pleaſure, but finding the windowes faſt ſhut, and the
Curtaines cloſe drawne about the bed; he ſate downe in a chaire behind
it, and leaning his head vpon the bed, his body being couered with the
curtaine, as if he hid himſelfe purpoſely; hee muſed on ſo many matters,
vntill at laſt he ſell faſt aſleepe.
It hath bin obſerued as an ancient Adage, that when diſaſters are ordained
to any one, commonly they proue to be ineuitable, as poore Ghiſmonda
could witneſſe too well. For, while the King thus ſlept, ſhee hauing
(vnluckily) appointed another meeting with Guiſcardo, left hir Gentlewomen
in the Garden, and ſtealing ſoftly into her Chamber, hauing
made all faſt and ſure, for being deſcried by any perſon: opened the doore
to Guiſcardo, who ſtood there ready on the ſtaire-head, awaiting his entrance;
and they ſitting downe on the bed ſide (according as they were
wont to do) began their vſuall kinde conference againe, with ſighes and
louing kiſſes mingled among them. It chanced that the King awaked, &
both hearing and ſeeing this familiarity of Guiſcardo with his Daughter,
he became extreamly confounded with greefe therat. Once he intended,
to cry out for helpe, to haue them both there apprehended; but he helde
it a part of greater wiſedome, to ſit ſilent ſtill, and (if hee could) to keepe
himſelfe ſo cloſely concealed: to the end, that he might the more ſecretly,
and with far leſſe diſgrace to himſelfe, performe what hee had raſhly
intended to do.
The poore diſcouered Louers, hauing ended their amorous interparlance,
without ſuſpition of the Kings being ſo neer in perſon, or any els,
to betray their ouer-confident truſt; Guiſcardo deſcended againe into the
Caue, and ſhe leauing the Chamber, returned to her women in the Garden;
all which Tancrede too well obſerued, and in a rapture of fury, departed
(vnſeene) into his owne lodging. The ſame night, about the houre
of mens firſt ſleepe, and according as he had giuen order; Guiſcardo was
apprehended, euen as he was comming forth of the loope-hole, & in his
homely leather habite. Very cloſely was he brought before the King,
whoſe heart was ſwolne ſo great with greefe, as hardly was hee able to
ſpeake▪ notwithſtanding, at the laſt he began thus. Guiſcardo, the loue &
reſpect I haue vſed towards thee, hath not deſerued the ſhameful wrong
which thou haſt requited me withall, and as I haue ſeene with mine owne
eyes this day. Whereto Guiſcardo could anſwer nothing elſe, but onely
this: Alas my Lord! Loue is able to do much more, then either you, or
I. Whereupon, Tancrede commanded, that he ſhould bee ſecretly well
guarded, in a neere adioyning Chamber, and on the next day, Ghiſmonda
hauing (as yet) heard nothing heereof, the Kings braine being infinitely
buſied and troubled, after dinner, and as he often had vſed to do: he went
to his daughters chamber, where calling for her, and ſhutting the doores
cloſely to them, the teares trickling downe his aged white beard, thus he
ſpake to her.
Ghiſmonda, I was once grounded in a ſetled perſwaſion, that I truely
knew thy vertue, and honeſt integrity of life; and this beleefe could neuer
haue bene altred in mee, by any ſiniſter reports whatſoeuer, had not
mine eyes ſeene, and mine eares heard the contrary. Nor did I ſo much
as conceiue a thought either of thine affection, or priuate conuerſing
with any man, but onely he that was to be thy husband. But now, I my
ſelfe being able to auouch thy folly, imagine what an heart-breake this
will be to me, ſo long as life remaineth in this poore, weak, and aged body.
Yet, if needs thou muſt haue yeelded to this wanton weakeneſſe, I
would thou hadſt made choiſe of a man, anſwerable to thy birth & Nobility:
whereas on the contrary, among ſo many worthy ſpirits as reſort
to my Court, thou likeſt beſt to conuerſe with that ſilly yong man Guiſcardo,
one of very meane and baſe deſcent, and by mee (euen for Gods
ſake) from his very youngeſt yeares, brought vppe to this inſtant in my
Court; wherein thou haſt giuen me much affliction of minde, and ſo ouerthrowne
my ſenſes, as I cannot wel imagine how I ſhould deale with
thee. For him, whom I haue this night cauſed to be ſurprized, euen as he
came forth of your cloſe contriued conueyance, and detaine as my priſoner,
I haue reſolued how to proceed with him: but concerning thy ſelfe▪
mine oppreſſions are ſo many and violent, as I know not what to ſay of
thee. One way, thou haſt meerly murthered the vnfeigned affection I
bare thee, as neuer any father could expreſſe more to his child: and then
againe, thou haſt kindled a moſt iuſt indignation in me, by thine immodeſt
and wilfull folly, and whereas Nature pleadeth pardon for the one,
yet iuſtice ſtandeth vp againſt the other, and vrgeth cruell ſeuerity againſt
thee: neuertheleſſe, before I will determine vpon any reſolution, I come
purpoſely firſt to heare thee ſpeake, and what thou canſt ſay for thy ſelfe,
in a bad caſe, ſo deſperate and dangerous.
Hauing thus ſpoken, he hung downe the head in his boſome, weeping
as abundantly, as if it had beene a childe ſeuerely diſciplinde. On the other
ſide, Ghiſmonda hearing the ſpeeches of her Father, and perceiuing
withall, that not onely her ſecret loue was diſcouered, but alſo Guiſcardo
was in cloſe priſon, the matter which moſt of all did torment her; ſhee
fell into a very ſtrange kinde of extaſie, ſcorning teares, and entreating
tearmes, ſuch as feminine frailety are alwayes apteſt vnto: but rather, with
height of courage, controling feare or ſeruile baſeneſſe, and declaring inuincible
fortitude in her very lookes, ſhee concluded with her ſelfe, rather
then to vrge any humble perſwaſions, ſhee would lay her life downe at
the ſtake. For plainely ſhee perceiued, that Guiſcardo already was a dead
man in Law, and death was likewiſe as welcome to her, rather then the
depriuation of her Loue; and therefore, not like a weeping woman, or as
checkt by the offence committed, but careleſſe of any harme happening
to her: ſtoutly and couragiouſly, not a teare appearing in her eye, or
her ſoule any way to be perturbed, thus ſhee ſpake to her Father.
Tancrede, to denie what I haue done, or to entreate any fauour from
you, is now no part of my diſpoſition: for as the one can little auaile me,
ſo ſhall not the other any way aduantage me. Moreouer, I couet not,
that you ſhould extend any clemency or kindneſſe to me, but by my voluntary
confeſſion of the truth; doe intend (firſt of all) to defend mine honour,
with reaſons ſound, good, and ſubſtantiall, and then vertuouſly purſue
to full effect, the greatneſſe of my minde and conſtant reſolution.
True it is, that I haue loued, and ſtill doe, honourable Guiſcardo, purpoſing
the like ſo long as I ſhall liue, which will be but a ſmall while: but if it
bee poſſible to continue the ſame affection after death, it is for euer
vowed to him onely. Nor did mine owne womaniſh weakneſſe ſo much
thereto induce me, as the matchleſſe vertues ſhining cleerely in Guiſcardo,
and the little reſpect you had of marrying me againe. Why royall Father,
you cannot be ignorant, that you being compoſed of fleſh and
blood, haue begotten a Daughter of the ſelfe ſame compoſition, and not
made of ſtone or yron. Moreouer, you ought to remember (although
now you are farre ſtept in yeeres) what the Lawes of youth are, and with
what difficulty they are to be contradicted. Conſidering withall, that albeit
(during the vigour of your beſt time) you euermore were exerciſed
in Armes; yet you ſhould likewiſe vnderſtand, that negligence and idle
delights, haue mighty power, not onely in yong people, but alſo in them
of greateſt yeeres.
I being then made of fleſh and blood, and ſo deriued from your ſelfe;
hauing had alſo ſo little benefit of life, that I am yet in the ſpring, and
blooming time of my blood: by either of theſe reaſons, I muſt needs be
ſubiect to naturall deſires, wherein ſuch knowledge as I haue once already
had, in the eſtate of my marriage, perhaps might moue a further intelligence
of the like delights, according to the better ability of ſtrength,
which exceeding all capacity of reſiſtance, induced a ſecond motiue to
affection, anſwerable to my time and youthful deſires, and ſo (like a yong
woman) I became amorous againe; yet did I ſtriue, euen with all my vtmoſt
might, and beſt vertuous faculties abiding in me, no way to diſgrace
either you or my ſelfe, as (in equall cenſure) yet I haue not done. But Nature
is aboue all humane power, and Loue, commanded by Nature, hath
preuailed for Loue, ioyning with Fortune: in meere pitty and commiſeration
of my extreme wrong. I found them both moſt benigne and gracious,
teaching me a way ſecret enough, whereby I might reach the
height of my deſires, howſoeuer you became inſtructed, or (perhaps)
found it out by accident; ſo it was, and I denie it not.
Nor did I make election of Guiſcardo by chance, or raſhly, as many
women doe, but by deliberate counſell in my ſoule, and moſt mature aduiſe;
I choſe him aboue all other, and hauing his honeſt harmeleſſe conuerſation,
mutually we enioyed our hearts contentment. Now it appeareth,
that I hauing not offended but by loue; in imitation of vulgar opinion,
rather then truth: you ſeeke to reproue me bitterly, alleaging no
other maine argument for your anger, but onely my not chooſing a gentleman,
or one more worthy. Wherein it is moſt euident, that you doe
not ſo much checke my fault, as the ordination of Fortune; who many
times aduanceth men of meaneſt eſteeme, and abaſeth them of greater
merit. But leauing this diſcourſe, let vs looke into the orignall of things,
wherein wee are firſt to obſerue, that from one maſſe or lumpe of fleſh,
both we, and all other receiued our fleſh, and one Creator hath created
all things; yea, all creatures, equally in their forces and faculties, and equall
likewiſe in their vertue: which vertue was the firſt that made diſtinction
of our birth and equality, in regard, that ſuch as had the moſt liberall
portion thereof, and performed actions thereto anſwerable, were
thereby termed noble; all the reſt remaining vnnoble: now although contrary
vſe did afterward hide and conceale this Law, yet was it not therefore
baniſhed from Nature or good manners. In which reſpect, whoſoeuer
did execute all his actions by vertue, declared himſelfe openly to be
noble; and he that tearmed him otherwiſe, it was an errour in the miſcaller,
and not in the perſon ſo wrongfully called; as the very ſame priuiledge
is yet in full force among vs at this day.
Caſt an heedfull eye then (good Father) vpon all your Gentlemen, and
aduiſedly examine their vertues, conditions and manner of behauiour.
On the other ſide, obſerue thoſe parts remaining in Guiſcardo: and then,
if you will iudge truly, and without affection, you will confeſſe him to be
moſt noble, and that all your Gentlemen (in reſpect of him) are but baſe
Groomes and villaines. His vertues and excelling perfections, I neuer
credited from the report or iudgement of any perſon; but onely by your
ſpeeches, and mine owne eyes as true wirneſſes. Who did euer more
commend Guiſcardo, extolling all thoſe ſingularities in him, moſt requiſite
to be in an honeſt vertuous man; then you your ſelfe haue done? Nor
neede you to be ſorry, or aſhamed of your good opinion concerning
him; for, if mine eyes haue not deceiued my iudgement, you neuer
gaue him the leaſt part of praiſe, but I haue knowne much more in him,
then euer your words were able to expreſſe: wherefore, if I haue beene
any way deceiued, truly the deceit proceeded onely from you. How will
you then maintaine, that I haue throwne my liking on a man of baſe condition?
In troth (Sir) you cannot. Perhaps you will alleadge, that he is
meane and poore; I confeſſe it, and ſurely it is to your ſhame, that you
haue not beſtowne place of more preferment, on a man ſo honeſt and
well deſeruing, and hauing beene ſo long a time your ſeruant. Neuertheleſſe,
pouerty impaireth not any part of noble Nature, but wealth hurries
it into horrible confuſions. Many Kings and great Princes haue
heretofore beene poore, when diuers of them that haue delued into the
Earth, and kept Flockes in the Feld, haue beene aduanced to riches, and
exceeded the other in wealth.
Now, as concerning your laſt doubt, which moſt of all afflicteth you,
namely, how you ſhall deale with me; boldly rid your braine of any ſuch
diſturbance, for if you haue reſolued now in your extremity of yeeres, to
doe that which your younger dayes euermore deſpiſed, I meane, to become
cruell; vſe your vtmoſt cruelty againſt me, for I will neuer entreate
you to the contrary, becauſe I am the ſole occaſion of this offence, if it
doe deſerue the name of an offence. And this I dare aſſure you, that if
you deale not with me, as you haue done already, or intend to Guiſcardo,
mine owne hands ſhall act as much: and therefore giue ouer your teares
to women, and if you purpoſe to be cruel, let him and me in death drinke
both of one cup, at leaſt, if you imagine that we haue deſerued it.
The King knew well enough the high ſpirit of his Daughter, but yet
(neuertheleſſe) he did not beleeue, that her words would proue actions,
or ſhee doe as ſhee ſaide. And therefore parting from her, and without
intent of vſing any cruelty to her; concluded, by quenching the heate of
another, to coole the fiery rage of her diſtemper, commanding two of his
followers (who had the cuſtody of Guiſcardo) that without any rumour or
noyſe at all, they ſhould ſtrangle him the night enſuing, and taking the
heart forth of his body, to bring it to him, which they performed according
to their charge. On the next day, the King called for a goodly ſtanding
Cup of Gold, wherein he put the heart of Guiſcardo, ſending it by
one of his moſt familiar ſeruants to his Daughter, with command alſo to
vſe theſe words to her. Thy Father hath ſent thee this preſent, to comfort
thee with that thing which moſt of all thou affecteſt, euen as thou
haſt comforted him with that which he moſt hated.
Ghiſmonda, nothing altered from her cruell deliberation, after her Father
was departed from her, cauſed certaine poyſonous rootes & hearbs
to be brought her, which ſhee (by diſtillation) made a water of, to drinke
ſuddenly, whenſoeuer any croſſe accident ſhould come from her Father;
whereupon, when the meſſenger from her Father had deliuered her the
preſent, and vttered the words as he was commanded: ſhee tooke the
Cup, and looking into it with a ſetled countenance, by ſight of the heart,
and effect of the meſſage, ſhee knew certainly, that it was the heart of
Guiſcardo; then looking ſtearnely on the ſeruant, thus ſhe ſpake vnto him.
My honeſt friend, it is no more then right and iuſtice, that ſo worthy a
heart as this is, ſhould haue any worſer graue then gold, wherein my Father
hath dealt moſt wiſely. So, lifting the heart vp to her mouth, and
ſweetly kiſſing it, ſhee proceeded thus. In all things, euen till this inſtant,
(being the vtmoſt period of my life) I haue euermore found my Fathers
loue moſt effectuall to me; but now it appeareth farre greater, then
at any time heretofore: and therefore from my mouth, thou muſt deliuer
him the lateſt thankes that euer I ſhall giue him, for ſending me ſuch an
honourable preſent.
Theſe words being ended, holding the Cup faſt in her hand, and looking
ſeriouſly vpon the heart, ſhee began againe in this manner. Thou
ſweete entertainer of all my deareſt delights, accurſed be his cruelty, that
cauſeth me thus to ſee thee with my corporall eyes, it being ſufficient enough
for me, alwayes to behold thee with the ſight of my ſoule. Thou
haſt runne thy race, and as Fortune ordained, ſo are thy dayes finiſhed:
for as all fleſh hath an ending; ſo haſt thou concluded, albeit too ſoone,
and before thy due time. The trauailes and miſeries of this World, haue
now no more to meddle with thee, and thy very heauieſt enemy, hath beſtowed
ſuch a graue on thee, as thy greatneſſe in vertue worthily deſerueth;
now nothing elſe is wanting, wherewith to beautifie thy Funerall,
but onely her ſighes & teares, that was ſo deare vnto thee in thy life time.
And becauſe thou mighteſt the more freely enioy them, ſee how my
mercileſſe Father (on his owne meere motion) hath ſent thee to me; and
truly I will beſtow them frankly on thee, though once I had reſolued, to
die with drie eyes, and not ſhedding one teare, dreadleſſe of their vtmoſt
malice towards me.
And when I haue giuen thee the due oblation of my teares, my ſoule,
which ſometime thou haſt kept moſt carefully, ſhall come to make a
ſweete coniunction with thine: for in what company elſe can I trauaile
more contentedly, and to thoſe vnfrequented ſilent ſhades, but onely in
thine? As yet I am ſure it is preſent here, in this Cup ſent me by my Father,
as hauing a prouident reſpect to the place, for poſſeſſion of our equall
and mutuall pleaſures; becauſe thy ſoule affecting mine ſo truely,
cannot walke alone, without his deare companion.
Hauing thus finiſhed her complaint, euen as if her head had been conuerted
into a well-ſpring of water, ſo did teares abundantly flow from her
faire eyes, kiſſing the heart of Guiſcardo infinite times. All which while,
her women ſtanding by her, neither knew what heart it was, nor to what
effect her ſpeeches tended: but being moued to compaſſionate teares,
they often demanded (albeit in vaine) the occaſion of her ſad complaining,
comforting her to their vtmoſt power. When ſhee was not able
to weepe any longer, wiping her eyes, and lifting vp her head, without
any ſigne of the leaſt diſmay, thus ſhee ſpake to the heart. Deare heart, all
my duty is performed to thee, and nothing now remaineth vneffected;
but onely breathing my laſt, to let my ghoſt accompany thine.
Then calling for the glaſſe of water, which ſhee had readily prepared
the day before, and powring it vpon the heart lying in the Cup, couragiouſly
aduancing it to her mouth, ſhee dranke it vp euery drop; which being
done, ſhee lay downe vpon her bed, holding her Louers heart faſt in
her hand, and laying it ſo neere to her owne as ſhe could. Now although
her women knew not what water it was, yet when they had ſeene her to
quaffe it off in that manner, they ſent word to the King, who much ſuſpecting
what had happened, went in all haſte to his Daughters chamber,
entring at the very inſtant, when ſhee was laide vpon her bed; beholding
her in ſuch paſſionate pangs, with teares ſtreaming downe his reuerend
beard, he vſed many kinde words to comfort her, when boldly thus ſhee
ſpake vnto him. Father (quoth ſhe) well may you ſpare theſe teares, becauſe
they are vnfitting for you, and not any way deſired by me; who but
your ſelfe, hath ſeene any man to mourne for his owne wilfull offence.
Neuertheleſſe, if but the leaſt iot of that loue doe yet abide in you, whereof
you haue made ſuch liberall profeſſion to me; let me obtaine this my
very laſt requeſt, to wit, that ſeeing I might not priuately enioy the benefit
of Guiſcardoes loue, and while he liued; let yet (in death) one publike
graue containe both our bodies, that death may affoord vs, what you ſo
cruelly in life denied vs.
Extremity of griefe and ſorrow, with-held his tongue from returning
any anſwer, and ſhee perceiuing her end approaching, held the heart ſtill
cloſed to her owne bare breſt, ſaying; Here Fortune, receiue two true
hearts lateſt oblation, for, in this manner are we comming to thee. So
cloſing her eyes, all ſenſe forſooke her, life leauing her body breathleſſe.
Thus ended the hapleſſe loue of Guiſcardo, and Ghiſmonda, for whoſe ſad
diſaſter, when the King had mourned ſufficiently, and repented fruitleſly;
he cauſed both their bodies to be honourably embalmed, and buried
in a moſt royall Monument; not without generall ſorrow of the ſubiects
of Salerne.
Fryar Albert made a young Venetian Gentlewoman beleeue, that God Cupid was falne in loue with her, and he reſorted oftentimes vnto her, in the diſguiſe of the ſame God. Afterward, being frighted by the Gentlewomans kindred and friends, he caſt himſelfe out of her Chamber window, and was hidden in a poore mans Houſe; on the day following, in the ſhape of a wilde or ſauage man, he was brought vpon the Rialto of Saint Marke, and being there publikely knowne by the Brethren of his Order; he was committed to Priſon.
The ſecond Nouell.
Reprehending the lewd liues of diſſembling hypocrites; and checking the arrogant pride of vaine-headed women.
THE Nouell recounted by Madam Fiammetta, cauſed teares many
times in the eyes of all the company; but it being finiſhed, the King
ſhewing a ſtearne countenance, ſaide; I ſhould much haue commended
the kindneſſe of fortune, if in the whole courſe of my life, I had taſted the
leaſt moity of that delight, which Guiſcardo receiued by conuerſing with
faire Ghiſmonda. Nor neede any of you to wonder thereat, or how it can
be otherwiſe, becauſe hourely I feele a thouſand dying torments, without
enioying any hope of eaſe or pleaſure: but referring my fortunes to their
owne poore condition, it is my will, that Madam Pampinea proceed next
in the argument of ſucceſſeleſſe loue, according as Madam Fiammetta
hath already begun, to let fall more dew-drops on the fire of mine afflictions.
Madam Pampinea perceiuing what a taske was impoſed on her, knew
well (by her owne diſpoſition) the inclination of the company, whereof
ſhee was more reſpectiue, then of the Kings command: wherefore, chuſing
rather to recreate their ſpirits, then to ſatisfie the Kings melancholy
humour; ſhee determined to relate a Tale of mirthfull matter, and yet to
keepe within compaſſe of the purpoſed Argument.
It hath been continually vſed as a common Prouerbe; that a bad man,
taken and reputed to be honeſt and good, may commit many euils, yet
neither credited, or ſuſpected: which prouerbe giueth mee very ample
matter to ſpeake of, and yet not varying from our intention, concerning
the hypocriſie of ſome religious perſons, who hauing their garments
long and large, their faces made artificially pale, their language meeke
and humble, to get mens goods from them; yet fower, harſh, and ſtearne
enough, in checking and controuling other mens errours, as alſo in vrging
others to giue, and themſelues to take, without any other hope or
meanes of ſaluation. Nor doe they endeauour like other men, to worke
out their ſoules health with feare and trembling; but, euen as if they were
ſole owners, Lords, and poſſeſſors of Paradice, will appoint to euery dying
perſon, places (there) of greater or leſſer excellency, according as
they thinke good, or as the legacies left by them are in quantity, whereby
they not onely deceiue themſelues, but all ſuch as giue credit to their
ſubtile perſwaſions. And were it lawfull for me, to make knowne no
more then is meerely neceſſary; I could quickly diſcloſe to ſimple credulous
people, what craft lieth concealed vnder their holy habites: and I
would wiſh, that their lies and deluding ſhould ſpeed with them, as they
did with a Franciſcane Friar, none of the younger Nouices, but one of
them of greateſt reputation, and belonging to one of the beſt Monaſteries
in Venice. Which I am the rather deſirous to report, to recreate your
ſpirits, after your teares for the death of faire Ghiſmonda.
Sometime (Honourable Ladies) there liued in the City of Imola, a
man of moſt lewd and wicked life; named, Bertho de la maſſa, whoſe
ſhameleſſe deedes were ſo well knowne to all the Citizens, and won ſuch
reſpect among them; as all his lies could not compaſſe any beleefe, no,
not when he deliuered a matter of ſound truth. Wherefore, perceiuing
that his lewdneſſe allowed him no longer dwelling there; like a deſperate
aduenturer▪ he tranſported himſelfe thence to Venice, the receptacle of all
foule ſinne and abhomination, intending there to exerciſe his wonted
bad behauiour, and liue as wickedly as euer he had done before. It came
to paſſe, that ſome remorſe of conſcience tooke hold of him, for the former
paſſages of his diſſolute life, and he pretended to be ſurprized with
very great deuotion, becomming much more Catholike then any other
man, taking on him the profeſſion of a Franciſcane Cordelier, and calling
himſelfe Fryar Albert of Imola.
In this habite and outward appearance, hee ſeemed to leade an auſtere
and ſanctimonious life, highly commending penance & abſtinence,
neuer eating fleſh, or drinking wine, but when hee was prouided of both
in a cloſe corner. And before any perſon could take notice thereof, hee
became (of a theefe) Ruffian, forſwearer and murtherer, as formerly he
had beene a great Preacher; yet not abandoning the forenamed vices,
when ſecretly he could put any of them in execution. Moreouer, being
made Prieſt, when he was celebrating Maſſe at the Altar, if he ſaw himſelfe
to be obſerued by any; he would moſt mournefully reade the paſſion
of our Sauiour, as one whoſe teares coſt him little, whenſoeuer hee
pleaſed to vſe them: ſo that, in a ſhort while, by his preaching and teares,
he fed the humours of the Venetians ſo pleaſingly; that they made him executour
(well neere) of all their Teſtaments, yea, many choſe him as depoſitary
or Guardion of their monies; becauſe he was both Confeſſour and
Councellor, almoſt to all the men and women.
By this well ſeeming out-ſide of ſanctity, the Wolfe became a Shepheard,
and his renown for holineſſe was ſo famous in thoſe parts, as Saint
Frances himſelfe had hardly any more. It fortuned, that a young Gentlewoman,
being ſomewhat fooliſh, wanton and proud minded, named
Madam Liſetta de Caquirino, wife to a wealthy Merchant, who went with
certaine Gallies into Flanders, and there lay as Lieger long time, in company
of other Gentlewomen, went to be confeſſed by this ghoſtly Father;
kneeling at his feete, although her heart was high enough, like a
proud minded woman, (for Venetians are preſumptuous, vaine-glorious,
and witted much like to their skittiſh Gondoloes) ſhe made a very ſhort
rehearſall of her ſinnes. At length Fryar Albert demanded of her, whether
ſhee had any amorous friend or louer? Her patience being exceedingly
prouoked, ſtearne anger appeared in her lookes, which cauſed her
to returne him this anſwer. How now Sir Domine? what? haue you no
eyes in your head? Can you not diſtinguiſh between mine, and theſe other
common beauties? I could haue Louers enow, if I were ſo pleaſed;
but thoſe perfections remaining in me, are not to be affected by this man,
or that. How many beauties haue you beheld, any way anſwerable to
mine, and are more fit for Gods, then mortals.
Many other idle ſpeeches ſhee vttered, in proud opinion of her beauty,
whereby Friar Albert preſently perceiued, that this Gentlewoman had
but a hollow braine, and was fit game for folly to flye at; which made him
inſtantly enamoured of her, and that beyond all capacity of reſiſting,
which yet he referred to a further, and more commodious time. Neuertheleſſe,
to ſhew himſelfe an holy and religious man now, he began to
reprehend her, and told her plainely, that ſhe was vain-glorious, and ouercome
with infinite follies. Hereupon, ſhe called him a logger headed
beaſt, and he knew not the difference between an ordinary complexion,
and beauty of the higheſt merit. In which reſpect, Friar Albert, being loth
to offend her any further; after confeſſion was fully ended, let her paſſe
away among the other Gentlewomen, ſhe giuing him diuers diſdainfull
lookes.
Within ſome few dayes after, taking one of his truſty brethren in his
company, he went to the Houſe of Madam Liſetta, where requiring to
haue ſome conference alone with her ſelfe; ſhee tooke him into a priuate
Parlor, and being there, not to be ſeene by any body, he fell on his knees
before her, ſpeaking in this manner. Madam, for charities ſake, and in
regard of your own moſt gracious nature, I beſeech you to pardon thoſe
harſh ſpeeches, which I vſed to you the other day, when you were with
me at confeſſion: becauſe, the very night enſuing thereon, I was chaſtiſed
in ſuch ſuch cruell manner, as I was neuer able to ſtirre forth of my bed,
vntill this very inſtant morning; whereto the weake witted Gentlewoman
thus replyed. And who I pray you (quoth ſhe) did chaſtiſe you ſo ſeuerely?
I will tell you Madam, ſaid Friar Albert, but it is a matter of admirable
ſecrecie.
Being alone by my ſelfe the ſame night in my Dorter, and in very ſerious
deuotion, according to my vſuall manner: ſuddenly I ſaw a bright
ſplendour about me, and I could no ſooner ariſe to diſcerne what it might
be, and whence it came, but I eſpied a very goodly young Lad ſtanding
by me, holding a golden Bow in his hand, and a rich Quiuer of Arrowes
hanging at his back. Catching faſt hold on my Hood, againſt the ground
he threw me rudely, trampling on me with his feete, and beating me with
ſo many cruell blowes, that I thought my body to be broken in peeces.
Then I deſired to know, why he was ſo rigorous to me in his correction?
Becauſe (quoth he) thou didſt ſo ſaucily preſume this day, to reproue the
celeſtiall beauty of Madam Liſetta, who (next to my Mother Venus) I
loue moſt dearely. Whereupon I perceiued, he was the great commanding
God Cupid, and therefore I craued moſt humbly pardon of him. I
will pardon thee (quoth he) but vpon this condition, that thou goe to
her ſo ſoone as conueniently thou canſt, and (by lowly humility) preuaile
to obtaine her free pardon: which if ſhe will not vouchſafe to grant thee,
then ſhall I in ſtearne anger returne againe, and lay ſo many torturing afflictions
on thee, that all thy whole life time ſhall be moſt hateful to thee.
And what the diſpleaſed God ſaide elſe beſide, I dare not diſcloſe, except
you pleaſe firſt to pardon me.
Miſtreſſe ſhallow braine, being ſwolne big with this wind, like an empty
bladder; conceiued no ſmall pride in hearing theſe words, conſtantly
crediting them to be true, and therefore thus anſwered. Did I not tel you
Father Albert, that my beauty was celeſtiall? But I ſweare by my beauty,
notwithſtanding your idle paſſed arrogancy, I am heartily ſorry for your
ſo ſeuere correction; which that it may no more be inflicted on you, I doe
freely pardon you; yet with this prouiſo, that you tell me, what the God
elſe ſaide vnto you; whereto Fryar Albert thus replyed. Madam, ſeeing
you haue ſo graciouſly vouchſafed to pardon me, I will thankfully tell
you all: but you muſt be very carefull and reſpectiue, that whatſoeuer I
ſhall reueale vnto you, muſt ſo cloſely be concealed, as no liuing creature
in the World may know it; for you are the onely happy Lady now
liuing, and that happineſſe relieth on your ſilence and ſecrecie: with ſolemne
vowes and proteſtations ſhee ſealed vp her many promiſes, and
then the Fryar thus proceeded.
Madam, the further charge impoſed on me by God Cupid, was to tell
you, that himſelfe is ſo extremely enamoured of your beauty, and you
are become ſo gracious in his affection; as, many nights he hath come to
ſee you in your Chamber, ſitting on your pillow, while you ſlept ſweetly,
and deſiring very often to awake you, but onely fearing to affright you.
Wherefore, now he ſends you word by me, that one night he intendeth
to come viſite you, and to ſpend ſome time in conuerſing with you. But
in regard he is a God, and meerely a ſpirit in forme, whereby neither you
or any elſe haue capacity of beholding him, much leſſe to touch or feele
him: he ſaith, that (for your ſake) he will come in the ſhape of a man, giuing
me charge alſo to know of you, when you ſhall pleaſe to haue him
come, and in whoſe ſimilitude you would haue him to come, whereof he
will not faile; in which reſpect, you may iuſtly thinke your ſelfe to be the
onely happy woman liuing, and farre beyond all other in your good
fortune.
Miſtris want-wit preſently anſwered, ſhee was well contented, that
God Cupid ſhould loue her, and ſhe would returne the like loue againe to
him; proteſting withall, that whereſoeuer ſhee ſhould ſee his maieſticall
picture, ſhe would ſet a hallowed burning Taper before it. Moreouer,
at all times he ſhould be moſt welcome to her, whenſoeuer hee would
vouchſafe to viſite her; for, he ſhould alwayes finde her alone in her priuate
Chamber: on this condition, that his olde Loue Pſyches, and all other
beauties elſe whatſoeuer, muſt be ſet aſide, and none but her ſelfe only
to be his beſt Miſtreſſe, referring his perſonall forme of appearance, to
what ſhape himſelfe beſt pleaſed to aſſume, ſo that it might not be frightfull,
or offenſiue to her.
Madam (quoth Friar Albert) moſt wiſely haue you anſwered, & leaue
the matter to me; for I will take order ſufficiently, and to your contentment.
But you may do me a great grace, and without any preiudice to
your ſelfe, in granting me one poore requeſt; namely, to vouchſafe the
Gods appearance to you, in my bodily ſhape and perſon, and in the perfect
forme of a man as now you behold me, ſo may you ſafely giue him
entertainment, without any taxation of the world, or ill apprehenſion of
the moſt curious inquiſition. Beſide, a greater happineſſe can neuer befall
me: for, while he aſſumeth the ſoule out of my body, and walketh on
the earth in my humane figure: I ſhall be wandering in the ioyes of Louers
Paradiſe, feeling the fruition of their felicities; which are ſuch, as
no mortality can be capeable of, no, not ſo much as in imagination.
The wiſe Gentlewoman replied, that ſhe was well contented, in regard
of the ſeuere puniſhment inflicted on him by God Cupid, for the reproachfull
ſpeeches he had giuen her; to allow him ſo poore a kinde of
conſolation, as he had requeſted her to grant him. Whereuppon Fryar
Albert ſaide: Be ready then Madam to giue him welcome to morrow in
the euening, at the entering into your houſe, for comming in an humane
body, he cannot but enter at your doore, whereas, if (in powerfull manner)
he made vſe of his wings, he then would flye in at your window, and
then you could not be able to ſee him.
Vpon this concluſion, Albert departed, leauing Liſetta in no meane
pride of imagination, that God Cupid ſhould bee enamored of her beauty;
and therefore ſhe thought each houre a yeare, till ſhe might ſee him
in the mortall ſhape of Friar Albert. And now was his braine wonderfully
buſied, to viſite her in more then common or humane manner; and
therefore he made him a ſute (cloſe to his body) of white Taffata, all poudred
ouer with Starres, and ſpangles of Gold, a Bow and Quiuer of Arrowes,
with wings alſo faſtened to his backe behinde him, and all cunningly
couered with his Friars habit, which muſt be the ſole meanes for
his ſafe paſſage.
Hauing obtained licence of his Superiour, and being accompanyed
with an holy Brother of the Conuent, yet ignorant of the buſineſſe by
him intended; he went to the houſe of a friend of his, which was his vſuall
receptacle, whenſoeuer he went about ſuch deeds of darknes. There
did he put on his diſſembled habit of God Cupid, with his winges, Bowe,
and Quiuer, in formall faſhion; and then (clouded ouer with his Monkes
Cowle) leaues his companion to awaite his returning backe, while he viſited
fooliſh Liſetta, according to her expectation, readily attending for
the Gods arriuall.
Albert being come to the houſe, knocked at the doore, and the Maid
admitting him entrance, according as her Miſtreſſe had appointed, ſhee
conducted him to her Miſtreſſes Chamber, where laying aſide his Friars
habite, and ſhe ſeeing him ſhine with ſuch glorious ſplendour, adding
action alſo to his aſſumed diſſimulation, with maieſticke motion of his
body, wings, and bow, as if he had bene God Cupid, indeede conuerted
into a body much bigger of ſtature, then Painters commonly do deſcribe
him, her wiſedome was ſo ouercome with feare and admiration, that ſhe
fell on her knees before him, expreſſing all humble reuerence vnto him.
And he ſpreading his wings ouer her, as with wiers and ſtrings hee had
made them pliant; ſhewed how graciouſly he accepted her humiliation;
folding her in his armes, and ſweetly kiſſing her many times together,
with repetition of his entire loue and affection towards her. So delicately
was he perfumed with odorifferous ſauours, and ſo compleate of perſon
in his ſpangled garments, that ſhe could do nothing elſe, but wonder
at his rare behauiour, reputing her felicity beyond all Womens in the
world, and vtterly impoſſible to bee equalled, ſuch was the pride of her
preſuming. For he told her diuers tales and fables, of his awefull power
among the other Gods, and ſtolne pleaſures of his vpon the earth; yet
gracing her praiſes aboue all his other Loues, and vowes made now, to
affect none but her onely, as his often viſitations ſhould more conſtantly
aſſure her, that ſhee verily credited all his proteſtations, and thought
his kiſſes and embraces,
•
arre to exceed any mortall compariſon.
After they had ſpent ſo much time in amorous diſcourſing, as might
beſt fit with this their firſt meeting, and ſtand cleare from ſuſpition on either
ſide: our Albert-Cupid, or Cupid-Albert, which of thē you beſt pleaſe
to terme him, cloſing his ſpangled winges together againe behinde his
backe, faſtening alſo on his Bow and Quiuer of Arrowes, ouer-clouds all
with his religious Monkes Cowle, and then with a parting kiſſe or two,
returned to the place where he had left his fellow and companion, perhaps
imployed in as deuout an exerciſe, as he had bin in his abſence from
him; whence both repayring home to the Monaſtery, all this nightes
wandering was allowed as tollerable, by them who made no ſpare of doing
the like.
On the morrow following, Madam Liſetta immediately after dinner,
being attended by her Chamber-maid, went to ſee Friar Albert, finding
him in his wonted forme and faſhion, and telling him what had hapned
betweene her and God Cupid, with all the other lies and tales which hee
had told her. Truly Madam (anſwered Albert) what your ſucceſſe vvith
him hath beene, I am no way able to comprehend; but this I can aſſure
you, that ſo ſoone as I had acquainted him with your anſwer, I felt a ſodaine
rapture made of my ſoule, and viſibly (to my apprehenſion) ſaw it
carried by Elues and Fairies, into the floury fields about Eliſium, vvhere
Louers departed out of this life, vvalk among the beds of Lillies and Roſes,
ſuch as are not in this world to be ſeene, neither to be imagined by any
humane capacity. So ſuper-abounding was the pleaſure of this ioy
and ſolace, that, how long I continued there, or by what meanes I vvas
tranſported hither againe this morning, it is beyond all ability in mee to
expreſſe, or how I aſſumed my body againe after that great God hadde
made vſe thereof to your ſeruice. Well Friar Albert (quoth ſhee) you
may ſee what an happineſſe hath befalne you, by ſo groſſe an opinion of
my perfections, and what a felicity you enioy, and ſtill are like to do, by
my pardoning your error, and granting the Gods acceſſe to me in your
ſhape: which as I enuy not, ſo I wiſh you heereafter to be wiſer, in taking
vpon you to iudge of beautie. Much other idle folly proceeded from hir,
which ſtill he ſoothed to her contentment, and (as occaſion ſerued) many
meetings they had in the former manner.
It fortuned within a few dayes after, that Madam Liſetta being in company
with one of her Goſſips, and their conference (as commonly it falleth
out to be) concerning other women of the City; their beautie, behauiour,
amorous ſuters and ſeruants, and generall opinion conceiued
of their worth and merit; wherein Liſetta was ouer-much conceyted of
her ſelfe, not admitting any other to be her equall. Among other ſpeeches,
ſauouring of an vnſeaſoned braine: Goſſip (quoth ſhe) if you knew
what account is made of my beauty, and who holdes it in no meane eſtimation,
you would then freely confeſſe, that I deſerue to bee preferred
before any other. As women are ambitious in their owne opinions, ſo
commonly are they couetous of one anothers ſecrets, eſpecially in matter
of emulation, whereupon the Goſſip thus replyed. Beleeue me Madam,
I make no doubt but your ſpeeches may bee true, in regard of your
admired beauty, and many other perfections beſide: yet let me tell you,
priuiledges, how great and ſingular ſoeuer they be, without they are knowen
to others, beſide ſuch as do particularly enioy them; they carrie no
more account, then things of ordinary eſtimation. Wheras on the contrary,
when any Lady or Gentlewoman hath ſome eminent and peculiar
fauour, which few or none other can reach vnto, and it is made famous
by generall notion: then do all women elſe admire and honor her, as the
glory of their kinde, and a miracle of Nature.
I perceiue Goſſip ſaid Liſetta wherat you ayme, & ſuch is my loue to you,
as you ſhould not loſe your longing in this caſe, were I but conſtantly ſecured
of your ſecrecy, which as hitherto I haue bene no way able to tax,
ſo would I be loth now to be more ſuſpitious of then needs. But yet this
matter is of ſuch maine moment, that if you will proteſt as you are truely
vertuous, neuer to reueale it to any liuing body, I will diſcloſe to you almoſt
a miracle. The vertuous oath being paſt, with many other ſolemne
proteſtations beſide, Liſetta then proceeded in this manner.
I know Goſſip, that it is a matter of common & ordinary cuſtome, for
Ladies and Gentlewomen to be graced with fauourites, men of fraile &
mortall conditions, whoſe natures are as ſubiect to inconſtancy, as their
very beſt endeuours dedicated to folly, as I could name no mean number
of our Ladies heere in Venice. But when Soueraigne deities ſhal feele the
impreſſion of our humane deſires, and behold ſubiects of ſuch preuailing
efficacy, as to ſubdue their greateſt power, yea, and make them enamored
of mortall creatures: you may well imagine Goſſip, ſuch a beauty is ſuperiour
to any other. And ſuch is the happy fortune of your friend Liſetta,
of whoſe perfections, great Cupid the awefull commanding God of Loue
himſelfe, conceiued ſuch an extraordinary liking: as he hath abandoned
his ſeate of ſupreme Maieſty, and appeared to me in the ſhape of a mortall
man, with liuely expreſſion of his amorous paſſions, and what extremities
of anguiſh he hath endured, onely for my loue. May this be poſſible?
replyed the Goſſip. Can the Gods be toucht with the apprehenſion
of our fraile paſſions? True it is Goſſip, anſwered Liſetta, and ſo certainly
true, that his ſacred kiſſes, ſweet embraces, and moſt pleaſing ſpeeches,
with proffer of his continuall deuotion towards me, hath giuen me
good cauſe to confirme what I ſay, and to thinke my felicity farre beyond
all other womens, being honoured with his often nightly viſitations.
The Goſſip inwardly ſmiling at her idle ſpeeches, which (neuertheles)
ſhe auouched with very vehement aſſeuerations: fell inſtantly ſicke of
womens naturall diſeaſe, thinking euery minute a tedious month, till ſhe
were in company with ſome other Goſſips, to breake the obligation of
her vertuous promiſe, and that others (as well as her ſelfe) might laugh at
the folly of this ſhallow-witted woman. The next day following, it was
her hap to be at a wedding, among a great number of other women, whō
quickly ſhe acquainted with this ſo ſtrange a wonder; as they did the like
to their husbands: and paſſing ſo from hand to hand, in leſſe ſpace then
two daies, all Venice was fully poſſeſſed with it.
Among the reſt, the brethren to this fooliſh woman, heard this admirable
newes concerning their Siſter; and they diſcreetly concealing it to
themſelues, cloſely concluded, to watch the walks of this pretended god:
and if he ſoared not too lofty a flight, they would clip his wings, to come
the better acquainted with him. It fortuned, that the Friar hearing his
Cupidicall viſitations ouer-publikely diſcouered, purpoſed to check and
reproue Liſetta for her indiſcretion. And being habited according to his
former manner, his Friarly Cowle couering al his former brauery, he left
his companion where he vſed to ſtay, and cloſely walked along vnto the
houſe. No ſooner was he entred, but the Brethren being ambuſhed neer
to the doore, went in after him, and aſcending the ſtaires, by ſuch time as
he had vncaſed himſelfe, and appeared like God Cupid, with his ſpangled
wings diſplayed: they ruſhed into the Chamber, and he hauing no other
refuge, opened a large Caſement, ſtanding directly ouer the great gulfe
or Riuer, and preſently leapt into the water; which being deepe, and hee
skilfull in ſwimming, he had no other harme by his fall, albeit the ſodain
affright did much perplex him.
Recouering the further ſide of the Riuer, he eſpied a light, & the doore
of an houſe open, wherein dwelt a poore man, whom he earneſtly intreated,
to ſaue both his life and reputation, telling him many lies and tales by
what meanes he was thus diſguiſed, and throwne by night-walking Villaines
into the water. The poore man, being moued to compaſſionate
his diſtreſſed eſtate, laid him in his owne bed, miniſtring ſuch other comforts
to him, as the time and his pouerty did permit; and day drawing on,
he went about his buſineſſe, aduiſing him to take his reſt, and it ſhould
not be long till he returned. So, locking the doore, and leauing the counterfe
•
God in bed, away goes the poore man to his daily labor. The Brethren
to Liſetta, perceiuing God Cupid to bee fled and gone, and ſhee in
melancholly ſadneſſe ſitting by them: they tooke vp the Reliques he had
left behind him, I meane the Friars hood and Cowle, which ſhewing to
their ſiſter, and ſharply reprouing her vnwomanly behauiour: they lefte
her in no meane diſcomfort, returning home to their owne houſes, with
their conquered ſpoiles of the forlorne Friar.
During the time of theſe occurrences, broad day ſpeeding on, & the
poore man returning homeward by the Rialto, to viſit his gueſt ſo lefte in
bed: he beheld diuers crouds of people, and a generall rumor noyſed among
them, that God Cupid had beene that night with Madame Liſetta,
where being ouer-cloſely purſued by her Brethren, for fear of being ſurprized,
he leapt out of her window into the gulfe, and no one could tell
what was become of him. Heereupon, the poore man beganne to imagine
that the gueſt entertained by him in the night time, muſt needs bee
the ſame ſuppoſed God Cupid, as by his wings and other embelliſhments
appeared: wherefore being come home, and ſitting downe on the beds
ſide by him, after ſome few ſpeeches paſſing between them, he knew him
to be Friar Albert, who promiſed to giue him fifty ducates, if hee would
not betray him to Liſettaes brethren.
Vpon the acceptation of this offer, the money being ſent for, and paied
downe; there wanted nothing now, but ſome apt and conuenient
meanes, whereby Albert might ſafely be conueyed into the Monaſterie,
which being wholly referred to the poore mans care and truſt, thus hee
ſpake. Sir, I ſee no likely-hoode of your cleare eſcaping home, except in
this manner as I aduiſe you. We obſerue this day as a merry Feſtiuall, &
it is lawfull for any one, to diſguiſe a man in the skin of a Beare, or in the
ſhape of a ſauage man, or any other forme of better deuice. Which being
ſo done, he is brought vpon S. Marks market place, where being hunted
a while with dogs, vpon the huntings concluſion, the Feaſt is ended;
and then each man leades his monſter whether him pleaſeth. If you can
accept any of theſe ſhapes, before you bee ſeene heere in my poore abiding,
then can I ſafely (afterward) bring you where you would bee. Otherwiſe,
I ſee no poſsible meanes, how you may eſcape hence vnknown;
for it is without all queſtion to the contrary, that the Gentlewomans brethren,
knowing your concealment in ſome one place or other, wil ſet ſuch
ſpies and watches for you throughout the City, as you muſt needs be taken
by them.
Now, although it ſeemed a moſt ſeuere impoſition, for Albert to paſſe
in any of theſe diſguiſes: yet his exceeding feare of Liſettaes brethren and
friends, made him gladly yeelde, and to vndergo what ſhape the poore
man pleaſed, which thus he ordered. Annointing his naked body with
Hony, he then couered it ouer with downy ſmall Feathers, and faſtning
a chaine about his necke, and a ſtrange vgly vizard on his face; hee gaue
him a great ſtaffe in the one hand, and two huge Maſtiue dogs chained
together in the other, which he had borrowed in the Butchery. Afterward,
he ſent a man to the Rialto, who there proclaimed by the ſound of
Trumpet: That all ſuch as deſired to ſee God Cupid, which the laſt night
had deſcended downe from the skies, and fell (by ill hap) into the Venetian
gulfe, let them repaire to the publike Market place of S. Marke, and
there he would appeare in his owne likeneſſe.
This being done, ſoone after he left his houſe, and leading him thus
diſguiſed along by his chaine, hee was followed by great crowds of people,
euery one queſtioning of whence, and what he was. In which manner,
he brought him to the Market place, where an infinite number of
people were gathered together, as well of the followers, as of them that
before heard the proclamation. There he made choiſe of a pillar, which
ſtood in a place ſomewhat highly exalted, wherto he chained his ſauage
man, making ſhew, as if he meant to awaite there, till the hunting ſhold
begin: in which time, the Flies, Waſpes, and Hornets, did ſo terribly
ſting his naked body, being annointed with Hony, that he endured therby
vnſpeakable anguiſh. When the poore man ſaw, that there needed
no more concourſe of people; pretending, as if he purpoſed to let looſe
his Saluage man; he tooke the maske or vizard from Alberts face, and
then he ſpake aloud in this manner.
Gentlemen and others, ſeeing the wilde Boare commeth not to our
hunting, becauſe I imagine that he cannot eaſily be found: I meane (to
the end you may not loſe your labour in comming hither) to ſhew you
the great God of Loue called Cupid, whom Poets feigned long ſince to
be a little boy, but now growne to manly ſtature. You ſee in what maner
he hath left his high dwelling, onely for the comfort of our Venetian
beauties: but belike, the night-fogs ouer-flagging his wings, he fell into
our gulfe, and comes ow to preſent his ſeruice to you. No ſooner had
he taken off his vizard, but euery one knew him to be Friar Albert; and
ſodainly aroſe ſuch ſhoutes and out-cries, with moſt bitter words breathed
forth againſt him, hurling alſo ſtones, durt and filth in his face, that
his beſt acquaintance then could take no knowledge of him, and not any
one pittying his abuſing.
So long continued the offended people in their fury, that newes therof
was carried to the Conuent, and ſix of his Religious brethren came,
who caſting an habite about him, and releaſing him from his chain, they
led him to the Monaſtery, not without much molleſtation and trouble
of the people; where impriſoning him in their houſe, ſeueritie of ſome
inflicted puniſhment, or rather conceite for his open ſhame, ſhortned
his dayes, and ſo he dyed. Thus you ſee faire Ladies, when licentious
life muſt be clouded with a cloake of ſanctity, and euill actions dayly
committed, yet eſcaping vncredited: there will come a time at length,
for iuſt diſcouering of all, that the good may ſhine in their true luſter of
glory, and the bad ſinke in their owne deſerued ſhame.
Three yong Gentlemen affecting three Siſters, fledde with them into Candie. The eldeſt of them (through iealouſie) becommeth the death of her Louer: The ſecond, by conſenting to the Duke of Candies request, is the meanes of ſauing her life. Afterward, her owne Friend killeth her, and thence flyeth away with the elder Siſter. The third couple, both man & woman, are charged with her death, and being committed priſoners, they confeſſe the facte: And fearing death, by corruption of money they preuaile with their keepers, eſcaping from thence to Rhodes, where they died in great pouerty.
The third Nouell.
Heerein is declared, how dangerous the occaſion is, enſuing by anger and deſpight, in ſuch as entirely loue, eſpecially, being iniuried and offended by them that they loue.
WHen the King perceiued, that Madame Pampinea had ended her
diſcourſe; he ſat ſadly a prety while, without vttering one word,
but afterward ſpake thus. Little goodneſſe appeared in the beginning of
this Nouell, becauſe it miniſtred occaſion of mirth; yet the ending proued
better, and I could wiſh, that worſe inflictions had falne on the venerious
Friar. Then turning towards Madam Lauretta, he ſaid; Lady, do
you tell vs a better tale, if poſſible it may be. She ſmiling, thus anſwered
the King: Sir, you are ouer-cruelly bent againſt poore Louers, in deſiſiring,
that their amourous proceſſions ſhould haue harſh and ſiniſter
concludings. Neuertheleſſe, in obedience to your ſeuere command, among
three perſons amourouſly perplexed, I will relate an vnhappy ending;
whereas all may be ſaide to ſpeede as vnfortunately, being equally
alike, in enioying the iſſue of their deſires, and thus I purpoſe for to proceede.
Euery vice (choiſe Ladies) as very well you know, redoundeth to the
great diſgrace and preiudice, of him or her by whom it is practiſed, and
oftentimes to others. Now, among thoſe common hurtfull enemies, the
ſinne or vice which moſt carrieth vs with full carrere, and draweth vs into
vnauoidable perils and dangers; in mine opinion, ſeemeth to be that of
choller or anger, which is nothing elſe, but a ſudden and inconſiderate
mouing, prouoked by ſome receiued iniury, which hauing excluded all
reſpect of reaſon, and dimde (with darke vapours) the bright diſcerning
ſight of the vnderſtanding, enflameth the minde with moſt violent furie.
And albeit this inconuenience happeneth moſt to men, and more to
ſome few, then others; yet notwithſtanding, it hath been noted, that women
haue felt the ſelfe ſame infirmity, and in more extreme manner, becauſe
it much ſooner is kindled in them, and burneth with the brighter
flame, in regard they haue the leſſer conſideration, and therefore not to
be wondred at. For if we will aduiſedly obſerue, we ſhall plainely perceiue,
that fire (euen of his owne nature) taketh hold on ſuch things as
are light and tender, much ſooner then it can on hard and weighty ſubſtances;
and ſome of vs women (let men take no offence at my words)
are farre more ſoft and delicate then they be, and therefore more fraile.
In which regard, ſeeing we are naturally enclined hereto, and conſidering
alſo, how much our affability and gentleneſſe, doe ſhew themſelues pleaſing
and full of content, to thoſe men with whom we are to liue; and
likewiſe, how anger and fury are compacted of extraordinary perils: I
purpoſe (becauſe we may be the more valiant in our courage, to outſtand
the fierce aſſaults of wrath and rage) to ſhew you by mine enſuing Nouel,
how the loues of three young Gentlemen, and of as many Gentlewomen,
came to fatall and vnfortunate ſucceſſe, by the tempeſtuous anger of
one among them, according as I haue formerly related vnto you.
Marſeilles (as you are not now to learne) is in Prouence, ſeated on the
Sea, and is alſo a very ancient and moſt noble City, which hath beene
(heretofore) inhabited with farre richer and more wealthy Merchants,
then at this inſtant time it is. Among whom there was one, named Narnaldo
Ciuada, a man but of meane condition, yet cleare in faith and reputation,
and in lands, goods, and ready monies, immeaſurably rich. Many
children he had by his Wife, among whom were three Daughters, which
exceeded his Sonnes in yeeres. Two of them being twinnes, and borne
of one body, were counted to be fifteene yeares old; the third was foureteene,
and nothing hindered marriage in their Parents owne expectation,
but the returne home of Narnaldo, who was then abroade in Spaine
with his Merchandiſes. The eldeſt of theſe Siſters was named Ninetta,
the ſecond Magdalena, and the third Bertella. A Gentleman (albeit but
poore in fortunes) and called Reſtagnone, was ſo extraordinarily enamoured
of Ninetta, as no man poſſibly could be more, and ſhee likewiſe as
earneſt in affection towards him; yet both carrying their loues proceeding
with ſuch ſecreſie, as long time they enioyed their hearts ſweete
contentment, yet vndiſcouered by any eye.
It came to paſſe, that two other young Gallants, the one named Folco,
and the other Hugnetto, (who had attained to incredible wealth, by the
deceaſe of their Father) were alſo as farre in loue, the one with Magdalena,
and the other with Bertella. When Reſtagnone had intelligence thereof,
by the meanes of his faire friend Ninetta; he purpoſed to releeue his pouerty,
by friendly furthering both their loue, and his owne: and growing
into familiarity with them, one while he would walke abroade with Folco,
and then againe with Hugnetto, but oftner with them both together,
to viſite their Miſtreſſes, and continue worthy friendſhip. On a day, when
hee ſaw the time ſutable to his intent, and that hee had inuited the two
Gentlemen home to his Houſe, hee fell into this like conference with
them.
Kind friends (quoth he) the honeſt familiarity which hath paſt betweene
vs, may render you ſome certaine aſſurance, of the conſtant loue
I beare to you both, being as willing to worke any meanes that may tend
to your good, as I deſire to compaſſe mine owne. And becauſe the truth
of mine affection cannot conceale it ſelfe to you, I meane to acquaint
you with an intention, wherewith my braine hath a long while trauelled,
and now may ſoone be deliuered of, if it may paſſe with your liking and
approbation. Let me then tell you, that except your ſpeeches ſauour of
vntruth, and your actions carry a double vnderſtanding, in common behauiour
both by night and day, you appeare to pine and conſume away,
in the cordiall loue you beare to two of the Siſters, as I ſuffer the ſame afflictions
for the third, with reciprocall requitall of their deareſt affection
to vs. Now, to qualifie the heate of our tormenting flames, if you will
condeſcend to ſuch a courſe as I ſhall aduiſe you, the remedy will yeeld
them equall eaſe to ours, and we may ſafely enioy the benefit of contentment.
As wealth aboundeth with you both, ſo doth want moſt extremely
tyrannize ouer me: but if one banke might be made of both your rich
ſubſtances, I embraced therein as a third partaker, and ſome quarter of
the World diſſigned out by vs, where to liue at hearts eaſe vpon your
poſſeſſions; I durſt engage my credite, that all the Siſters, (not meanly
ſtored with their Fathers treaſure) ſhall beare vs company to what place
ſoeuer we pleaſe. There each man freely enioying his owne deareſt loue,
we may liue like three brerhren, without any hinderance to our mutuall
contentment; it remaineth now in you Gentlemen, to accept this comfortable
offer, or to refuſe it.
The two Brothers, whoſe paſſions exceeded their beſt meanes for ſupport,
perceiuing ſome hope how to enioy their loues; deſired no long
time of deliberation, or greatly diſputed with their thoughts what was
beſt to be done: but readily replyed, that let happen any danger whatſoeuer,
they would ioyne with him in this determination, aud he ſhould partake
with them in their wealthieſt fortunes. After Reſtagnone had heard
their anſwer, within ſome few dayes following, he went to conferre with
Ninetta, which was no eaſie matter for him to compaſſe. Neuertheleſſe,
opportunity proued ſo fauourable to him, that meeting with her at a priuate
place appointed, he diſcourſed at large, what had paſſed betweene
him and the other two young Gentlemen, maintaining the ſame with
many good reaſons, to haue her like and allow of the enterprize. Which
although (for a while) he could very hardly doe; yet, in regard ſhee had
more deſire then power, without ſuſpition to be daily in his company, ſhe
franckly thus anſwered. My hearts choſen friend, I cannot any way miſlike
your aduiſe, and will take ſuch order with my Siſters, that they ſhall
agree to our reſolution: let it therefore be your charge, that you and the
reſt make euery thing ready, to depart from hence ſo ſoone, as with beſt
conuenient meanes we may be enabled.
Reſtagnone being returned to Folco and Hugnetto, who thought euery
houre a yeere, to heare what would ſucceed vpon the promiſe paſt betweene
them; he told them in plaine termes, that their Ladies were as free
in conſent as they, and nothing wanted now, but furniſhment for their
ſudden departing Hauing concluded, that Candye ſhould be their harbour
for entertainment, they made ſale of ſome few inheritances, which
lay the readieſt for their purpoſe, as alſo the goods in their Houſes, and
then, vnder colour of venting Merchandiſes abroade; they bought a nimble
Pinnace, fortified with good ſtrength and preparation, and waited
but for a conuenient wind. On the other ſide, Ninetta, who was ſufficiently
acquainted with the forwardneſſe of her Siſters deſires and her
owne; had ſo ſubſtantially preuailed with them, that a good voyage now
was the ſole expectation. Whereupon, the ſame night when they ſhould
ſet away, they opened a ſtrong barred Cheſt of their Fathers, whence
they tooke great ſtore of gold and coſtly Iewels, wherewith eſcaping ſecretly
out of the Houſe; they came to the place where their Louers attended
for them, and going all aboard the Pinnace, the windes were ſo
furtherous to them; that without touching any where, the night following
they arriued at Geneway.
There being out of peril or purſuite, they all knit the knot of holy wedlocke,
and then freely enioyed their long wiſhed deſires, from whence
ſetting ſayle againe, and being well furniſhed with all things wanting;
paſſing on from Port to Port, at the end of eight dayes they landed in
Candie, not meeting with any impeachment by the way. Determining
there to ſpend their dayes, firſt they prouided themſelues of faire and
goodly Lands in the Countrey, and then of beautifull dwelling Houſes
in the City, with all due furniſhments belonging to them, and Families
well beſeeming ſuch worthy Gentlemen, and all delights elſe for their
daily recreations, inuiting their Neighbours, and they them againe in louing
manner; ſo that no Louers could wiſh to liue in more ample contentment.
Paſſing on their time in this height of felicity, and not croſſed by any
ſiniſter accidents, it came to paſſe (as often wee may obſerue in the like
occaſions, that although delights doe moſt eſpecially pleaſe vs, yet they
breed ſurfet, when they ſwell too ouer-great in abundance) that Restagnone,
who moſt deerely affected his faire Ninetta, and had her now in his
free poſſeſſion, without any perill of looſing her: grew now alſo to bee
wearie of her, and conſequently, to faile in thoſe familiar performances,
which formerly had paſſed betweene them. For, being one day inuited
to a Banket, hee ſaw there a beautifull Gentle-woman of that Countrey,
whoſe perfections pleaſing him beyond all compariſon: hee labored (by
painfull purſuite) to win his purpoſe; and meeting with her in diuers priuate
places, grew prodigall in his expences vpon her. This could not be
ſo cloſely carried, but beeing ſeene and obſerued by Ninetta, ſhe became
poſſeſſed with ſuch extreame ielouſie, that hee could not doe any thing
whatſoeuer, but immediately he had knowledge of it: which fire, growing
to a flame in her, her patience became extreamely prouoked, vrging
rough and rude ſpeeches from her to him, and daily tormenting him beyond
power of ſufferance.
As the enioying of any thing in too much plenty, makes it appeare
irkeſome and loathing to vs, and the deniall of our deſires, do more and
more whet on the appetite: euen ſo did the angry ſpleene of Ninetta proceede
on in violence, againſt this newe commenced loue of Reſtagnone.
For in ſucceſſion of time, whether hee enioyed the embracements of
his new Miſtreſſe, or no: yet Ninetta (by ſiniſter reports, but much more
through her owne iealous imaginations) held it for infallible, and to be
moſt certaine. Heereupon, ſhe fell into an extreame melancholly, which
melancholly begat implacable fu
•
y, and (conſequently) ſuch contemptible
diſdaine: as conuerted her former kindly loue to Restagnone, into
moſt cruell and bloudie hatred; yea, and ſo ſtrangely was reaſon or reſpect
confounded in her, as no reuenge elſe but ſpeedy death, might
ſatisfie the wrongs ſhee imagined to receiue by Restagnone and his Minion.
Vpon enquiry, by what meanes ſhee might beſt compaſſe her bloody
intention, ſhe grew acquainted with a Graecian woman, and wonderfully
expert in the compounding of poyſons, whom ſhee ſo perſwaded, by
gifts and bounteous promiſes, that at the length ſhee preuailed with her.
A deadly water was diſtilled by her, which (without any other counſell
to the contrary) on a day when Restagnone had his blood ſome-what
ouer-heated, and little dreamed on any ſuch Treaſon conſpired againſt
him by his Wife, ſhe cauſed him to drinke a great draught thereof, vnder
pretence, that it was a moſt ſoueraigne and cordiall water: but ſuch
was the powerfull operation thereof, that the very next morning, Reſtagnone
was found to be dead in his bed. When his death was vnderſtood
by Folco, Hugnetto and their Wiues, and not knowing how hee
came to bee thus empoyſoned (becauſe their ſiſter ſeemed to bemoane
his ſodaine death, with as apparant ſhewes of mourning as they could
poſſibly expreſſe) they buried him very honourably, and ſo all ſuſpition
ceaſed.
But as Fortune is infinite in her fagaries, neuer acting diſaſter ſo cloſely,
but as cunningly diſcouereth it againe: ſo it came to paſſe, that within
a few dayes following, the Graecian woman, that had deliuered the poyſon
to Ninetta, for ſuch another deede of damnation, was apprehended
euen in the action. And being put vpon the tortures, among many other
horrid villanies by her committed, ſhe confeſſed the empoyſoning of Reſtagnone,
and euery particle thereto appertaining. Wherupon, the Duke
of Candie, without any noyſe or publication, ſetting a ſtrong guard (in
the night time) about the houſe of Folco, where Ninetta then was lodged;
there ſodainly they ſeized on her, & vpon examination, in maintainance
of her deſperate reuenge; voluntarily confeſſed the fact, and what elſe
concerned the occaſion of his death, by the wrongs which hee had offered
her.
Folco and Hugnetto vnderſtanding ſecretly, both from the Duke, & other
intimate friends, what was the reaſon of Ninettaes apprehenſion,
which was not a little diſpleaſing to them, laboured by all their beſt pains
and endeauour, to worke ſuch meanes with the Duke, that her life might
not periſh by fire, although ſhe had moſt iuſtly deſerued it; but all their
attempts prooued to no effect, becauſe the Duke had concluded to execute
iuſtice.
Heere you are to obſerue, that Magdalena (beeing a very beautifull
Woman, yong, and in the choiſeſt flower of her time:) had often before
bin ſolicited by the Duke, to entertaine his loue and kindneſſe, whereto
by no meanes ſhe would liſten or giue conſent. And being now moſt
earneſtly importuned by her, for the ſafety of her Siſters life, ſhee tooke
hold on this her daily ſuite to him, and in priuate told her, that if ſhe was
ſo deſirous of Ninettaes life: it lay in her power to obtaine it, by granting
him the fruition of her loue. She apparantly perceiuing, that Ninetta was
not likely to liue, but by the proſtitution of her chaſte honour, which ſhe
preferred before the loſſe of her owne life, or her Siſters; concluded, to
let her dye, rather then run into any ſuch diſgrace. But hauing an excellent
ingenious wit, quicke, and apprehenſiue in perillous occaſions, ſhee
intended now to make a trial of ouer-reaching the laſciuious Duke in his
wanton purpoſe, and yet to be aſſured of her Siſters life, without any blemiſh
to her reputation.
Soliciting him ſtill as ſhe was wont to doe, this promiſe paſſed from
her to him, that when Ninetta was deliuered out of priſon, and in ſafety
at home in her houſe: hee ſhould reſort thither in ſome queint diſguiſe,
and enioy his long expected deſire; but vntill then ſhe would not yeeld.
So violent was the Duke in the proſecution of his purpoſe, that vnder colour
of altering the manner of Ninettaes death, not ſuffering her to bee
conſumed by fire, but to be drowned, according to a cuſtome obſerued
there long time, and at the importunity of her Siſter Magdalena, in the
ſtill ſilence of the night, Ninetta was conueyed into a ſacke, and ſent in
that manner to the Houſe of Folco, the Duke following ſoone after, to
challenge her promiſe.
Magdalena, hauing acquainted her Husband with her vertuous intention,
for preſeruing her Siſters life, and diſappointing the Duke in his
wicked deſire; was as contrary to her true meaning in this caſe, as Ninetta
had formerly beene aduerſe to Reſtagnone, onely being ouer-ruled
likewiſe by iealouſie, and perſwaded in his raſh opinion, that the Duke
had already diſhonoured Magdalena, otherwiſe, he would not haue deliuered
Ninetta out of priſon. Mad fury gaue further fire to this vnmanly
perſwaſion, and nothing will now quench this violent ſhame, but the life
of poore Magdalena, ſuddenly ſacrificed in the reſcue of her Siſters, ſuch
a diuell is anger, when the vnderſtandings bright eye is thereby abuſed.
No credit might be giuen to her womanly proteſtations, nor any thing
ſeeme to alter his bloody purpoſe; but, hauing ſlaine Magdalena with his
Poniard, (notwithſtanding her teares and humble entreaties) hee ran
in haſte to Ninettaes Chamber, ſhee not dreaming on any ſuch deſperate
accident, and to her he vſed theſe diſſembling ſpeeches.
Siſter (quoth he) my wife hath aduiſed, that I ſhould ſpeedily conuey
you hence, as fearing the renewing of the Dukes fury, and your falling againe
into the hands of Iuſtice: I haue a Barke readily prepared for you,
and your life being ſecured, it is all that ſhe and I doe moſt deſire. Ninetta
being fearefull, and no way diſtruſting what he had ſaide; in thankfull allowance
of her Siſters care, and curteous tender of his ſo ready ſeruice;
departed thence preſently with him, not taking any farewell of her other
Siſter and her Husband. To the Sea-ſhore they came, very weakely prouided
of monies to defray their charges, and getting aboard the Barke,
directed their courſe themſelues knew not whether.
The amourous Duke in his diſguiſe, hauing long daunced attendance
at Folcoes doore, and no admittance of his entrance; angerly returned
backe to his Court, proteſting ſeuere reuenge on Magdalena, if ſhe gaue
him not the better ſatisfaction, to cleare her from thus baſely abuſing
him. On the morrow morning, when Magdalena was found murthered
in her Chamber, and tidings thereof carried to the Duke; preſent ſearch
was made for the bloody offendor, but Folco being fled and gone with
Ninetta; ſome there were, who bearing deadly hatred to Hugnetto, incenſed
the Duke againſt him and his wife, as ſuppoſing them to be guilty of
Magdalenaes death. He being thereto very eaſily perſwaded, in regard
of his immoderate loue to the ſlaine Gentlewoman; went himſelfe in perſon
(attended on by his Guard) to Hugnettoes Houſe, where both he and
his wife were ſeized as priſoners.
Theſe newes were very ſtrange to them, and their impriſonment as
vnwelcome; and although they were truly innocent, either in knowledge
of the horrid fact, or the departure of Folco with Ninetta: yet being vnable
to endure the tortures extremity, they made themſelues culpable by
confeſſion, and that they had hand with Folco in the murder of Magdalena.
Vpon this their forced confeſſion, and ſentence of death pronounced
on them by the Duke himſelfe; before the day appointed for their
publike execution, by great ſummes of money, which they had cloſely
hid in their Houſe, to ſerue when any vrgent extremitie ſhould happen
to them; they corrupted their keepers, and before any intelligence could
be had of their flight, they eſcaped by Sea to Rhodes, where they liued afterward
in great diſtreſſe and miſery. The iuſt vengeance of Heauen followed
after Folco and Ninetta, he for murthering his honeſt wife, and ſhe
for poyſoning her offending Husband: for being beaten a long while on
the Seas, by tempeſtuous ſtormes and weather, and not admitted landing
in any Port or creeke; they were driuen backe on the Coaſt of Candie againe,
where being apprehended, and brought to the City before the
Duke, they confeſſed their ſeuerall notorious offences, and ended their
loathed liues in one fire together.
Thus the idle and looſe loue of Reſtagnone, with the franticke rage and
iealouſie of Ninetta and Folco, ouerturned all their long continued happineſſe,
and threw a diſaſtrous ending on them all.
Gerbino, contrary to the former plighted faith of his Grand-father, King Gulielmo, fought with a Ship at Sea, belonging to the King of Thunis, to take away his Daughter, who was then in the ſame Ship. Shee being ſlaine by them that had the poſſeſsion of her, he likewiſe ſlew them; and afterward had his owne head ſmitten off.
The fourth Nouell.
In commendation of Iuſtice betweene Princes; and declaring withall, that neither feare, dangers, nor death it ſelfe, can any way daunt a true and loyall Louer.
MAdam Lauretta hauing concluded her Nouel, and the company complaining
on Louers misfortunes, ſome blaming the angry and iealous
fury of Ninetta, and euery one deliuering their ſeuerall opinions;
the King, as awaking out of a paſſionate perplexity, exalted his lookes,
giuing a ſigne to Madam Eliſa, that ſhee ſhould follow next in order,
whereto ſhe obeying, began in this manner. I haue heard (Gracious Ladies,
quoth ſhe) of many people, who are verily perſwaded, that Loues
arrowes, neuer wound any body, but onely by the eyes lookes and gazes,
mocking and ſcorning ſuch as maintaine that men may fall in loue by hearing
onely. Wherein (beleeue me) they are greatly deceiued, as will
appeare by a Nouell which I muſt now relate vnto you, and wherein you
ſhall plainely perceiue, that not onely fame or report is as preuailing as
ſight; but alſo hath conducted diuers, to a wretched and miſerable ending
of their liues.
Gulielmo the ſecond, King of Sicilie, according as the Sicilian Chronicles
record, had two children, the one a ſonne, named Don Rogero, and
the other a daughter, called Madam Conſtance. The ſaide Rogero died before
his Father, leauing a ſonne behind him, named Gerbino, who, with
much care and coſt, was brought vp by his Grand-father, prouing to be a
very goodly Prince, and wondrouſly eſteemed for his great valour and
humanity. His fame could not containe it ſelfe, within the bounds or limits
of Sicilie onely, but being publiſhed very prodigally, in many parts
of the world beſide, flouriſhed with no meane commendations throughout
all Barbarie, which in thoſe dayes was tributary to the King of Sicilie.
Among other perſons, deſeruing moſt to be reſpected, the renowned
vertues, and affability of this gallant Prince Gerbino, was vnderſtood by
the beautious Daughter to the King of Thunis, who by ſuch as had ſeene
her, was reputed to be one of the rareſt creatures, the beſt conditioned,
and of the trueſt noble ſpirit, that euer Nature framed in her very choyceſt
pride of art.
Of famous, vertuous, and worthy men, it was continually her cheefeſt
delight to heare, and the admired actions of valiant Gerbino, reported
to her by many ſingular diſcourſers, ſuch as could beſt deſcribe him, with
language anſwerable to his due deſeruings, won ſuch honourable entertainment
in her vnderſtanding ſoule, that they were moſt affectionately
pleaſing to her, and in capitulating (ouer and ouer againe) his manifold
and heroycall perfections; meere ſpeech made her extreamely amorous
of him, nor willingly would ſhe lend an eare to any other diſcourſe, but
that which tended to his honour and aduancement.
On the other ſide, the fame of her incomparable beauty, with addition
of her other infinite ſingularities beſide; as the World had giuen
•
are
to in numberleſſe places, ſo Sicilie came at length acquainted therewith,
in ſuch flowing manner, as was truly anſwerable to her merit. Nor ſeemed
this as a bare babling rumour, in the Princely hearing of royall Gerbino;
but was embraced with ſuch a reall apprehenſion, and the entire
probation of a true vnderſtanding: that he was no leſſe enflamed with
noble affection towards her, then ſhe expreſſed the like in vertuous opinion
of him. Wherefore, awaiting ſuch conuenient opportunity, when
he might entreate licenſe of his Grandfather, for his owne going to Thunis,
vnder colour of ſome honourable occaſion, for the earneſt deſire hee
had to ſee her: he gaue charge to ſome to his eſpeciall friends (whoſe affaires
required their preſence in thoſe parts) to let the Princeſſe vnderſtand,
in ſuch ſecret manner as beſt they could deuiſe, what noble affection
he bare vnto her, deuoting himſelfe onely to her ſeruice.
One of his choſen friends thus put in truſt, being a Ieweller, a man of
ſingular diſcretion, and often reſorting to Ladies for ſight of his Iewelles,
winning like admittance to the Princeſſe: related at large vnto her, the
honourable affection of Gerbino, with full tender of his perſon to her ſeruice,
and that ſhe onely was to diſpoſe of him. Both the meſſage and the
meſſenger, were moſt graciouſly welcome to her, and flaming in the ſelf-ſame
affection towards him; as a teſtimony thereof, one of the very choiſeſt
Iewels which ſhe bought of him, ſhee ſent by him to the Prince Gerbino,
it being receiued by him with ſuch ioy and contentment, as nothing
in the world could be more pleaſing to him. So that afterward, by the truſty
carriage of this Ieweller, many Letters and Loue-tokens paſſed betweene
them, each being as highly pleaſed with this poore, yet happy
kinde of entercourſe, as if they had ſeene & conuerſed with one another.
Matters proceeding on in this manner, and continuing longer then
their loue-ſicke paſſions eaſily could permit, yet neither being able to find
out any other meanes of helpe; it fortuned, that the King of Thunis promiſed
his daughter in marriage to the King of Granada, whereat ſhe grew
exceeding ſorrowfull, perceyuing, that not onely ſhe ſhould be ſent further
off, by a large diſtance of way from her friend, but alſo bee depriued
vtterly, of all hope euer to enioy him. And if ſhe could haue deuiſed any
meanes, either by ſecret flight from her Father, or any way els to further
her intention, ſhe would haue aduentured it for the Princes ſake. Gerbino
in like maner hearing of this purpoſed mariage, liued in a hel of torments,
conſulting oftentimes with his ſoule, how he might bee poſſeſſed of her
by power, when ſhe ſhould be ſent by Sea to her husband, or priuate ſtealing
her away from her Fathers Court before: with theſe and infinite other
thoughts, was he inceſſantly afflicted, both day and night.
By ſome vnhappy accident or other, the King of Thunis heard of this
their ſecret loue, as alſo of Gerbinoes purpoſed policy to ſurprize her, and
how likely he was to effect it, in regard of his manly valour, and ſtore of
ſtout friends to aſsiſt him. Hereupon, when the time was come, that hee
would conuey his daughter thence to her marriage, and fearing to be preuented
by Gerbino: he ſent to the King of Sicily, to let him vnderſtand his
determination, crauing ſafe conduct from him, without impeachment of
Gerbino, or any one elſe, vntill ſuch time as his intent was accompliſhed.
King Gulielmo being aged, and neuer acquainted with the affectionat proceedings
of Gerbino, nor any doubtfull reaſon to vrge this ſecuritie from
him, in a caſe conuenient to be granted: yeelded the ſooner thereto right
willingly, and as a ſignale of his honourable meaning, he ſent him his royall
Gloue, with a full confirmation for his ſafe conduct.
No ſooner were theſe Princely aſſurances receiued, but a goodly ſhip
was prepared in the Port of Carthagena, well furniſhed with all thinges
thereto belonging, for the ſending his daughter to the King of Granada,
writing for nothing elſe but beſt fauouring windes. The yong Princeſſe,
who vnderſtood and ſaw all this great preparation; ſecretly ſent a ſeruant
of hers to Palermo, giuing him eſpeciall charge, on her behalfe, to ſalute
the Prince Gerbino, and to tell him withall, that (within few dayes) ſhee
muſt be tranſported to Granada. And now opportunity gaue fayre and
free meane, to let the world know, whether hee were a man of that magnanimous
ſpirit, or no, as generall opinion had formerly conceyued of
him, and whether he affected her ſo firmely, as by many cloſe meſſages
he had aſſured her. He who had the charge of this embaſſie, effectually
performed it, and then returned backe to Thunis.
The Prince Gerbino, hauing heard this meſſage from his diuine Miſtreſſe,
and knowing alſo, that the King his Grandfather, had paſt his ſafe
conduct to the King of Thunis, for peaceable paſſage thorough his Seas:
was at his wits end, in this vrgent neceſſitie, what might beſt bee done.
Notwithſtanding, moued by the ſetled conſtancie of his plighted Loue,
and the ſpeeches deliuered to him by the meſſenger from the Princeſſe:
to ſhew himſelfe a man endued with courage, he departed thence vnto
Meſsina, where he made readie two ſpeedie gallies, and fitting them with
men of valiant diſpoſition, ſet away to Sardignia, as making full account,
that the Ship which carried the Princeſſe, muſt come along that Coaſt.
Nor was his expectation therein deceiued: for, within few dayes after,
the Ship (not ouer-ſwiftly winded) came ſailing neere to the place where
they attended for her arriuall; whereof Gerbino had no ſooner gotten a
ſight, but to animate the reſolutes which were in his company, thus he
ſpake.
Gentlemen, if you be thoſe men of valour, as heeretofore you haue
beene reputed, I am perſwaded, that there are ſome among you, who
either formerly haue, or now inſtantly do feele, the all-commanding power
of Loue, without which (as I thinke) there is not any mortall man,
that can haue any goodneſſe or vertue dwelling in him. Wherefore, if
euer you haue bene amorouſly affected, or preſently haue any apprehenſion
thereof, you ſhall the more eaſily iudge of what I now aime at. True
it is, that I do loue, and loue hath guided me to be comforted, and manfully
aſſiſted by you, becauſe in yonder Ship, which you ſee commeth on
ſo gently vnder ſaile (euen as if ſhe offered her ſelfe to be our prize) not
onely is the Iewell which I moſt eſteeme, but alſo mighty and vnvalewable
treaſure, to be wonne without any difficult labour, or hazard of a dangerous
fight, you being men of ſuch vndauntable courage. In the honour
of which victory, I couet not any part or parcell, but onely a Ladie, for
whoſe ſake I haue vndertaken theſe Armes, and freely giue you all the reſt
contained in the ſhippe. Let vs ſet on them, Gentlemen, and my deareſt
friends; couragiouſly let vs aſſaile the ſhip, you ſee how the wind fauors
vs, and (queſtionleſſe) in ſo good an action, Fortune will not faile vs.
Gerbino needed not to haue ſpoken ſo much, in perſwading them to
ſeize ſo rich a booty; becauſe the men of Meſsina were naturally addicted
to ſpoile and rapine: and before the Prince began his Oration, they had
concluded to make the ſhip their purchaſe. Wherefore, giuing a lowde
ſhout, according to their Countrey manner, and commaunding their
Trumpets to ſound chearefully, they rowed on amain with their Oares,
and (in meere deſpight) ſet vpon the ſhip. But before the Gallies could
come neere her, they that had the charge and managing of her, perceyuing
with what ſpeede they made towards them, and no likely meanes of
eſcaping from them, reſoluedly they ſtood vppon their beſt defence, for
now it was no time to be ſlothfull.
The Prince being come neere to the Ship, commanded that the Patrones
ſhould come to him, except they would aduenture the fight.
When the Sarazines were thereof aduertiſed, and vnderſtood alſo what
he demanded, they returned anſwer: That their motion and proceeding
in this manner, was both againſt Law and plighted faith, which was promiſed
by the King of Sicily, for their ſafe paſſage thorow his Sea, by no
meanes to be molleſted or aſſailed. In teſtimony whereof, they ſhewed
his Gloue, auouching moreouer, that neyther by force (or otherwiſe)
they would yeelde, or deliuer him any thing which they had aboorde
their Ship.
Gerbino eſpying his gracious Miſtreſſe on the Ships decke, and ſhe appearing
to be farre more beautifull, then Fame had made relation of her:
being much more enflamed now, then formerly he had bin, replyed thus
when they ſhewed the Gloue. Wee haue (quoth he) no Faulcon heere
now, to be humbled at the ſight of your Gloue: and therefore, if you wil
not deliuer the Lady, prepare your ſelues for fight, for we muſt haue her
whether you will or no. Hereupon, they began to let flie (on both ſides)
their Darts and arrowes, with ſtones ſent in violent ſort from their ſlings,
thus continuing the fight a long while, to very great harme on either ſide.
At the length, Gerbino perceyuing, that ſmall benefite would redound to
him, if he did not vndertake ſome other kinde of courſe: he tooke a ſmal
Pinnace, which purpoſely he brought with him from Sardignia, and ſetting
it on a flaming fire, conueyd it (by the Gallies help) cloſe to the ſhip.
The Sarazines much amazed thereat, and euidently perceiuing, that eyther
they muſt yeeld or dy; brought their Kings daughter vpon the prow
of the ſhip, moſt greeuouſly weeping and wringing her hands. Then calling
Gerbino, to let him behold their reſolution, there they ſlew hir before
his face; and afterward, throwing her body into the Sea, ſaid: Take her,
there we giue her to thee, according to our bounden duty, and as thy periury
hath iuſtly deſerued.
This ſight was not a little greeuous to the Prince Gerbino, who madded
now with this their monſtrous cruelty, and not caring what became
of his owne life, hauing loſt her for whom hee onely deſired to liue: not
dreading their Darts, Arrowes, ſlinged ſtones, or what violence els they
could vſe againſt him; he leapt aboord their ſhip, in deſpight of all that
durſt reſiſt him, behauing himſelf there like a hunger-ſtarued Lyon, when
he enters among a heard of beaſtes, tearing their carkaſſes in pieces both
with his teeth and pawes. Such was the extreme fury of the poor Prince,
not ſparing the like of any one, that durſt appeare in his preſence; ſo that
what with the bloody ſlaughter, and violence of the fires encreaſing in
the Ship; the Mariners got ſuch wealth as poſſibly they could ſaue, and
ſuffering the Sea to ſwallow the reſt, Gerbino returned vnto his Gallies againe,
nothing proud of this ſo ill-gotten victory.
Afterward, hauing recouered the Princeſſes dead body out of the Sea,
and enbalmed it with ſighes and teares: hee returned backe into Sicilie,
where he cauſed it to be moſt honourably buried, in a little Iſland, named
Vstica, face to face confronting Trapanum. The King of Thunis hearing
theſe diſaſtrous Newes, ſent his Ambaſſadors (habited in ſad mourning)
to the aged King of Sicily, complaining of his faith broken with him, and
how the accident had falne out. Age being ſodainly incited to anger, and
the King extreamly offended at this iniury, ſeeing no way whereby to deny
him iuſtice, it being vrged ſo inſtantly by the Ambaſſadours: cauſed
Gerbino to be apprehended, and hee himſelfe (in regard that none of his
Lords and Barons would therein aſſiſt him, but laboured to diuert them
by their earneſt importunity) pronounced the ſentence of death on the
Prince, and commanded to haue him beheaded in his preſence; affecting
rather, to dye without an heire, then to be thought a King void of iuſtice.
So theſe two vnfortunate Louers, neuer enioying the very leaſt benefite
of their long wiſhed deſires: ended both their liues in violent manner.
The three Brethren to Iſabella, ſlew a Gentleman that ſecretly loued her. His ghoſt appeared to her in her ſleepe, and ſhewed her in what place they had buried his body. She (in ſilent manner) brought away his head, and putting it into a pot of earth, ſuch as Flowers, Baſile, or other ſweet hearbes are vſually ſet in; ſhe watered it (a long while) with her teares. Whereof her Brethren hauing intelligence; ſoone after ſhe dyed, with meere conceite of ſorrow.
The fift Nouell.
Wherein is plainly proued, that Loue cannot be rooted vppe, by any humane power or prouidence; eſpecially in ſuch a ſoule, where it hath bene really apprehended.
THE Nouell of Madame Eliza being finiſhed, and ſome-what commended
by the King, in regard of the Tragicall concluſion; Philomena
was enioyned to proceede next with her diſcourſe. She beeing ouercome
with much compaſſion, for the hard Fortunes of Noble Gerbino,
and his beautifull Princeſſe, after an extreme and vehement ſighe, thus
ſhe ſpake. My tale (worthy Ladies) extendeth not to perſons of ſo high
birth or quality, as they were of whom Madame Eliza gaue you relation:
yet (peraduenture) it may prooue to be no leſſe pittifull. And now I remember
my ſelfe, Meſsina ſo lately ſpoken of, is the place where this accident
alſo happened.
In Meſsina there dwelt three yong men, Brethren, and Merchants by
their common profeſſion, who becoming very rich by the death of theyr
Father, liued in very good fame and repute. Their Father was of San
Gemignano, and they had a Siſter named Iſabella, young, beautifull, and
well conditioued; who, vpon ſome occaſion, as yet remained vnmaried.
A proper youth, being a Gentleman borne in Piſa, and named Lorenzo,
as a truſty factor or ſeruant, had the managing of the Brethrens buſineſſe
and affaires. This Lorenzo being of comely perſonage, affable, and excellent
in his behauiour, grew ſo gracious in the eyes of Iſabella, that ſhee
affoorded him many very reſpectiue lookes, yea, kindneſſes of no common
quality. Which Lorenzo taking notice of, and obſeruing by degrees
from time to time, gaue ouer all other beauties in the Citie, which might
allure any affection from him, and only fixed his heart on her, ſo that their
loue grew to a mutuall embracing, both equally reſpecting one another,
and entertaining kindneſſes, as occaſion gaue leaue.
Long time continued this amorous league of loue, yet not ſo cunningly
concealed, but at the length, the ſecret meeting of Lorenzo and Iſabella,
to eaſe their poore ſoules of Loues oppreſſions, was diſcouered by the
eldeſt of the Brethren, vnknowne to them who were thus betrayed. He
being a man of great diſcretion, althogh this ſight was highly diſpleaſing
to him: yet notwithſtanding, he kept it to himſelfe till the next morning,
labouring his braine what might beſt be done in ſo vrgent a caſe. When
day was come, he reſorted to his other brethren, and told them what he
had ſeene in the time paſt, betweene their ſiſter and Lorenzo.
Many deliberations paſſed on in this caſe; but after all, thus they concluded
together, to let it proceede on with patient ſupportance, that no
ſcandall might enſue to them, or their Siſter, no euill acte being (as yet)
committed. And ſeeming, as if they knew not of their loue, had a wary
eye ſtill vpon her ſecret walkes, awaiting for ſome conuenient time, when
without their owne preiudice, or Iſabellaes knowledge, they might ſafely
breake off this their ſtolne loue, which was altogither againſt their liking.
So, ſhewing no worſe countenance to Lorenzo, then formerly they had
done, but imploying and conuerſing with him in kinde manner; it fortuned,
that riding (all three) to recreate themſelues out of the Cittie, they
tooke Lorenzo in their company, and when they were come to a ſolitarie
place, ſuch as beſt ſuited with their vile purpoſe: they ran ſodainly vpon
Lorenzo, ſlew him, & afterward enterred hid body, where hardly it could
be diſcouered by any one. Then they returned backe to Meſsina, & gaue
it forth (as a credible report) that they had ſent him abroad about their
affaires, as formerly they were wont to do: which euery one verily beleeued,
becauſe they knew no reaſon why they ſhould conceite any otherwiſe.
Iſabella, liuing in expectation of his returne, and perceiuing his ſtay
to her was ſo offenſiuely long: made many demands to her Brethren, into
what parts they had ſent him, that his tarrying was ſo quite from all
wonted courſe. Such was her importunate ſpeeches to them, that they
taking it very diſcontentedly, one of them returned her this frowning anſwer.
What is your meaning Siſter, by ſo many queſtionings after Lorenzo?
What vrgent affaires haue you with him, that makes you ſo impatient
vpon his abſence? If heereafter you make any more demands for
him, we ſhall ſhape you ſuch a reply, as will bee but little to your liking.
At theſe harſh words, Iſabella fell into abundance of teares, where-among
ſhe mingled many ſighes and groanes, ſuch as were able to ouerthrow a
far ſtronger conſtitution: ſo that, being full of feare and diſmay, yet no
way diſtruſting her brethrens cruell deede; ſhee durſt not queſtion any
more after him.
In the ſilence of darke night, as ſhe lay afflicted in her bed, oftentimes
would ſhe call for Lorenzo, entreating his ſpeedy returning to her: And
then againe, as if he had bene preſent with her, ſhe checkt and reproued
him for his ſo long abſence. One night amongſt the reſt, ſhe being growen
almoſt hopeleſſe, of euer ſeeing him againe, hauing a long while
wept and greeuouſly lamented; her ſenſes and faculties vtterly ſpent and
tired, that ſhe could not vtter any more complaints, ſhe fell into a trance
or ſleepe; and dreamed, that the ghoſt of Lorenzo appeared vnto her, in
torne and vnbefitting garments, his lookes pale, meager, and ſtaring: and
(as ſhe thought) thus ſpake to her. My deare loue Iſabella, thou doeſt nothing
but torment thy ſelfe, with calling on me, accuſing me for ouerlong
tarrying from thee: I am come therfore to let thee know, that thou canſt
not enioy my company any more, becauſe the very ſame day when laſt
thou ſaweſt me, thy brethren moſt bloodily murthered me. And acquainting
her with the place where they had buried his mangled body: hee
ſtrictly charged her, not to call him at any time afterward, and ſo vaniſhed
away.
The yong Damoſell awaking, and giuing ſome credite to her Viſion,
ſighed and wept exceedingly; and after ſhe was riſen in the morning, not
daring to ſay any thing to her brethren, ſhe reſolutely determined, to go
ſee the place formerly appointed her, onely to make triall, if that which
ſhe ſeemed to ſee in her ſleepe, ſhould carry any likely-hood of truth. Hauing
obtained fauour of her brethren, to ride a dayes iourney from the
City, in company of her truſty Nurſe, who long time had attended on
her in the houſe, and knew the ſecret paſſages of her loue: they rode directly
to the deſigned place, which being couered with ſome ſtore of dried
leaues, and more deeply ſunke then any other part of the ground therabout,
they digged not farre, but they found the body of murthered Lorenzo,
as yet very little corrupted or impaired, and then perceiued the
truth of her viſion.
Wiſedome and gouernment ſo much preuailed with her, as to inſtruct
her ſoule, that her teares ſpent there, were meerely fruitleſſe and in vaine,
neither did the time require any long tarrying there. Gladly would ſhee
haue carried the whole body with her, ſecretly to beſtow honourable enterment
on it, but it exceeded the compaſſe of her ability. Wherefore, in
regard ſhe could not haue all, yet ſhe would be poſſeſſed of a part, & hauing
brought a keene razor with her, by helpe of the Nurſe, ſhee diuided
the head from the body, and wrapped it vp in a Napkin, which the nurſe
conueyed into her lap, and then laide the body in the ground again. Thus
being vndiſcouered by any, they departed thence, and arriued at home in
conuenient time, where being alone by themſelues in the Chamber: ſhe
waſhed the head ouer and ouer with her teares, and beſtowed infinite kiſſes
thereon.
Not long after, the Nurſe hauing brought her a large earthen potte,
ſuch as wee vſe to ſet Baſile, Marierom, Flowers, or other ſweet hearbes
in, and ſhrouding the head in a ſilken Scarfe, put it into the pot, couering
it with earth, and planting diuers rootes of excellent Baſile therin, which
ſhe neuer watered, but either with her teares, Roſe water, or water diſtilled
from the Flowers of Oranges. This pot ſhe vſed continually to ſitte
by, either in her chamber, or any where elſe: for ſhe caried it alwaies with
her, ſighing and breathing foorth ſad complaints thereto, euen as if they
had beene vttered to her Lorenzo, and day by day this was her continuall
exerciſe, to the no meane admiration of her brethren, and many other
friends that beheld her.
So long ſhe held on in this mourning manner, that, what by the continuall
watering of the Baſile, and putrifaction of the head, ſo buried in the
pot of earth; it grew very flouriſhing, and moſt odorifferous to ſuch as
ſcented it, ſo that as no other Baſile could poſſibly yeeld ſo ſweet a ſauor.
The neighbours noting this behauiour in her, obſeruing the long continuance
thereof, how much her bright beauty was defaced, and the eyes
ſunke into her head by inceſſant weeping, made many kinde and friendly
motions, to vnderſtād the reaſon of her ſo violent oppreſſions; but could
not by any meanes preuaile with her, or win any diſcouery by her Nurſe,
ſo faithfull was ſhe in ſecrecie to her. Her brethren alſo waxed wearie of
this carriage in her; and hauing very often reproued her for it, without any
other alteration in her: at length, they cloſely ſtole away the potte of
Baſile from her, for which ſhe made infinite wofull lamentations, earneſtly
entreating to haue it reſtored againe, auouching that ſhee could not
liue without it.
Perceiuing that ſhe could not haue the pot againe, ſhe fell into an extreame
ſickneſſe, occaſioned onely by her ceaſeleſſe weeping: and neuer
vrged ſhe to haue any thing, but the reſtoring of her Baſile pot. Her brethren
grew greatly amazed thereat, becauſe ſhee neuer called for ought
elſe beſide; and thereupon were very deſirous to ranſacke the pot to the
very bottome. Hauing emptied out all the earth, they found the Scarfe
of ſilke, wherein the head of Lorenzo was wrapped; which was (as yet)
not ſo much conſumed, but by the lockes of haire, they knew it to be Lorenzoes
head, whereat they became confounded with amazement.
Fearing leaſt their offence might come to open publication, they buried
it very ſecretly; and, before any could take notice thereof, they departed
from Meſsina, and went to dwell in Naples. Iſabella crying & calling
ſtill for her pot of Baſile, being vnable to giue ouer mourning, dyed
within a few dayes after. Thus haue you heard the hard fare of poore Lorenzo
and his Iſabella. Within no long while after, when this accident
came to be publikely knowne, an excellent ditty was compoſed thereof,
beginning thus:
Cruell and vnkinde was the Chriſtian,
That robd me of my Baſiles bliſſe, &c.
A beautifull yong Virgin, named Andreana, became enamored of a yong Gentleman, called Gabriello. In conference together, ſhe declared a dreame of hers to him, and he another of his to her; whereupon Gabriello fell downe ſodainly dead in her armes. Shee, and her Chamber-maide were apprehended, by the Officers belonging to the Seigneury, as they were carrying Gabriello, to lay him before his owne doore. The Poteſtate offering violence to the Virgin, and ſhe reſtſting him vertuouſly: it came to the vnderſtanding of her Father, who approued the innocence of his daughter, and compaſſed her deliuerance. But ſhe afterward, being weary of all worldly felicities, entred into Religion, and became a Nun.
The ſixth Nouell.
Deſcribing the admirable accidents of Fortune; and the mighty preuailing power of Loue.
THE Nouell which Madam Philomena had ſo graciouſly related, was
highly pleaſing vnto the other Ladies; becauſe they had oftentimes
heard the Song, without knowing who made it, or vppon what occaſion
it was compoſed. But when the King ſaw that the Tale was ended: hee
commanded Pamphilus, that hee ſhould follow in his due courſe: whereupon
he ſpake thus.
The dreame already recounted in the laſt Nouell, doth miniſter matter
to me, to make report of another Tale, wherein mention is made of
two ſeuerall dreames; which diuined as well what was to enſue, as the other
did what had hapned before. And no ſooner were they finiſhed in
the relation, by both the parties which had formerly dreampt them, but
the effects of both as ſodainly followed.
Worthy Ladies, I am ſure it is not vnknowne to you, that it is, & hath
bene a generall paſſion, to all men and women liuing, to ſee diuers and
ſundry things while they are ſleeping. And although (to the ſleeper) they
ſeeme moſt certaine, ſo that when he awaketh, hee iudgeth the trueth of
ſome, the likelyhood of others, and ſome beyond all poſſibility of truth:
yet notwithſtanding, many dreames haue bene obſerued to happen, and
very ſtrangely haue come to paſſe. And this hath bene a grounded reaſon
for ſome men, to giue as great credit to ſuch things as they ſee ſleeping,
as they do to others vſually waking. So that, according vnto their
dreames, and as they make conſtruction of them, that are ſadly diſtaſted,
or merrily pleaſed, euen as (by them) they either feare or hope. On the
contrary, there are ſome, who wil not credit any dreame whatſoeuer, vntill
they be falne into the very ſame danger which formerly they ſaw, and
moſt euidently in their ſleepe.
I meane not to commend either the one or other, becauſe they do not
alwayes fall out to be true; neither are they at all times lyars. Now, that
they proue not all to be true, we can beſt teſtifie to our ſelues. And that
they are not alwayes lyars, hath already ſufficiently bene manifeſted, by
the diſcourſe of Madame Philomena, and as you ſhall perceiue by mine
owne, which next commeth in order to ſalute you. Wherefore, I am of
this opinion, that in matters of good life, and performing honeſt actions;
no dreame is to be feared preſaging the contrary, neither are good works
any way to be hindred by them. Likewiſe, in matters of bad and wicked
quality, although our dreames may appeare fauourable to vs, and our viſions
flatter vs with proſperous ſucceſſe: yet let vs giue no credence vnto
the beſt, nor addict our minds to them of contrary Nature. And now we
will proceed to our Nouell.
In the Citie of Breſcia, there liued ſomtime a Gentleman, named Meſſer
Negro da Ponte Cararo, who (among many other children) had a daughter
called Andreana, yong and beautifull, but as yet vnmarried. It fortuned,
that ſhee fell in loue with a neighbour, named Gabriello, a comely
yong Gentleman, of affable complexion, and graciouſly conditioned.
Which loue was (with like kindneſſe) welcommed and entertained by
him, and by the furtherance of her Chamber-maide, it was ſo cunningly
carried, that in the Garden belonging to Andreanaes Father, ſhe had many
meetings with her Gabriello. And ſolemne vowes being mutually paſſed
betweene them, that nothing but death could alter their affection: by
ſuch ceremonious words as are vſed in marriage, they maried themſelues
ſecretly together, and continued their ſtolne chaſte pleaſures, with equall
contentment to them both.
It came to paſſe, that Andreana ſleeping in her bed, dreamed, that ſhe
met with Gabriello in the Garden, where they both embracing louingly
together, ſhe ſeemed to ſee a thing blacke and terrible, which ſodainely
iſſued forth of his body, but the ſhape therof ſhe could not comprehend.
It rudely ſeized vpon Gabriello, & in deſpight of her vtmoſt ſtrength (with
incredible force) ſnatched him out of her armes, and ſinking with him
into the earth, they neuer after did ſee one another; whereuppon, ouercome
with extremity of greefe and ſorrow, preſently ſhee awaked, being
then not a little ioyfull, that ſhe found no ſuch matter as ſhee feared, yet
continued very doubtfull of her dreame. In regard whereof, Gabriello being
deſirous to viſite her the night following: ſhe laboured very diligently
to hinder his comming to her; yet knowing his loyall affection toward
her, and fearing leaſt he ſhould grow ſuſpitious of ſome other matter: ſhe
welcommed him into the Garden, where gathering both white and Damaske
Roſes (according to the nature of the ſeaſon) at length, they ſate
downe by a goodly Fountaine, which ſtoode in the midſt of the Garden
After ſome ſmall familiar diſcourſe paſsing betweene them, Gabriello
demanded of her vpon what occaſion ſhee denied his comming thither
the night before, and by ſuch a ſodaine vnexpected admonition? Andreana
told him, that it was in regard of a troubleſome dreame, wherwith hir
ſoule was perplexed the precedent night, and doubt what might enſue
thereon. Gabriello hearing this, began to ſmile, affirming to her, that it
was an eſpeciall note of folly, to giue any credit to idle dreames: becauſe
(oftentimes) they are cauſed by exceſſe of feeding, and continually are
obſerued to be meere lies. For (quoth hee) if I had any ſuperſtitious beleefe
of dreames, I ſhould not then haue come hither nowe: yet not ſo
much as being diſmayed by your dreame, but for another of mine owne,
which I am the more willing to acquaint you withall.
Me thought, I was in a goodly delightfull Forreſt, in the Noble exerciſe
of ſportfull hunting, and became there poſſeſſed of a yong Hinde,
the verie louelieſt and moſt pleaſing beaſt that was euer ſeene. It ſeemed
to be as white as ſnow, and grew (in a ſhort while) ſo familiar with mee,
that by no meanes it would forſake me. I could not but accept this rare
kindneſſe in the beaſt, and fearing leaſt (by ſome ill hap) I might looſe it,
I put a coller of Gold about the necke thereof, and faſtned it into a chain
of Gold alſo, which then I held ſtrictly in my hand. The Hind afterward
couched downe by mee, laying his head mildely in my lap; and on a ſudden,
a blacke Grey-hound bitch came ruſhing on vs (but whence, or how
I could not imagine) ſeeming halfe hunger-ſtarued, and very vgly to look
vpon. At me ſhe made her full carriere, without any power in me of reſiſtance:
and putting her mouth into the lefte ſide of my boſome, griped
it ſo mainly with her teeth, that (me thought) I felt my heart quite bitten
through, and ſhe tugged on ſtill, to take it wholly away from me; by
which imagined paine and anguiſh I felt, inſtantly I awaked: Laying then
my hand vpon my ſide, to know whether any ſuch harme had befaln me,
or no, and finding none at all, I ſmiled at mine owne folly, in making ſuch
a friuolous and idle ſearch. What can be ſaid then in theſe or the like caſes?
Diuers times I haue had as ill ſeeming dreames, yea, and much more
to be feared: yet neuer any thing hurtfull to me) followed thereon; and
therefore I haue alwaies made the leſſe account of them.
The yong Maiden, who was ſtill diſmayed by her owne dreame, became
much more afflicted in her minde, when ſhee had heard this other
reported by Gabriello: but yet to giue him no occaſion of diſtaſt, ſhe bare
it out in the beſt manner ſhe could deuiſe to doe. And albeit they ſpent
the time in much pleaſing diſcourſe, maintained with infinite ſweete kiſſes
on either ſide: yet was ſhe ſtill ſuſpitious, but knew not whereof; fixing
her eies oftentimes vpon his face, and throwing ſtrange lookes to all
parts of the Garden, to catch hold on any ſuch blacke vgly ſight, whereof
he had formerly made deſcription to her. As thus ſhe continued in theſe
afflicting feares, it fortuned, that Gabriello ſodainly breathing forth a very
vehement ſighe, and throwing his armes faſt about her, ſaid: O helpe me
deare Loue, or elſe I dye; and, in ſpeaking the words, fell downe vppon
the ground. Which the yong Damoſell perceiuing, and drawing him into
her lappe, weeping ſaide: Alas ſweete Friend, What paine doſt thou
feele?
Gabriello anſwered not one word, but being in an exceeding ſweate,
without any ability of drawing breath, very ſoone after gaue vp the ghoſt.
How greeuous this ſtrange accident was to poore Andreana, who loued
him as deerely as her owne life: you that haue felt loues tormenting afflictions,
can more eaſily conceiue, then I relate. Wringing her hands, &
weeping inceſſantly, calling him, rubbing his temples, and vſing all likely
meanes to reduce life: ſhe found all her labour to be ſpent in vain, becauſe
he was ſtarke dead indeed, and euery part of his body as cold as ice:
whereupon, ſhe was in ſuch wofull extremity, that ſhe knew not what to
do or ſay. All about the Garden ſhe went weeping, in infinite feares and
diſtraction of ſoule, calling for her Chamber-maid, the only ſecret friend
to their ſtolne meetings, and told her the occaſion of this ſudden ſorow.
After they had ſighed and mourned awhile, ouer the dead body of Gabriello,
Andreana in this manner ſpake to her maid.
Seeing Fortune hath thus bereft me of my Loue, mine owne life muſt
needs be hatefull to me: but before I offer any violence to my ſelfe, let vs
deuiſe ſome conuenient meanes, as may both preſerue mine honor from
any touch or ſcandall, and conceale the ſecret loue paſſing betweene vs:
but yet in ſuch honeſt ſort, that this body (whoſe bleſſed ſoule hath too
ſoone forſaken it) may be honourably enterred. Whereto her Mayde
thus anſwered: Miſtreſſe, neuer talke of doing any violence to your ſelf,
becauſe by ſuch a blacke and diſmall deed, as you haue loſt his kind company
here in this life, ſo ſhall you neuer more ſee him in the other world:
for immediately you ſinke downe to hell, which foule place cannot bee a
receptacle for his faire ſoule, that was endued with ſo many ſingular vertues.
Wherefore, I holde it farre better for you, to comfort your ſelfe
by all good meanes, and with the power of feruent prayer, to fight againſt
all deſperate intruding paſſions, as a truly vertuous minde ought to doe.
Now, as concerning his enterrement, the meanes is readily prepared for
you heere in this Garden, where neuer he hath bene ſeene by any, or his
reſorting hither knowne, but onely to our ſelues. If you will not conſent
to haue it ſo, let you and I conuey his bodye hence, and leaue it in ſuch
apt place, where it may be found to morrow morning: and being then
carried to his owne houſe, his friends and kindred will giue it honeſt buriall.
Andreana, although her ſoule was extraordinarily ſorrowfull, & teares
flowed abundantly from her eyes; yet ſhe liſtned attentiuely to hir maids
counſell; allowing her firſt aduice againſt deſperation, to be truly good;
but to the reſt thus ſhe replied. God forbid (quoth ſhe) that I ſhold ſuffer
ſo deare a louing friend, as he hath alwayes ſhewed himſelfe to mee;
nay, which is much more, my husband; by ſacred and ſolemn vowes paſſed
betweene vs, to be put into the ground baſely, and like a dog, or elſe
to be left in the open ſtreete. He hath had the ſacrifice of my virgin teares,
and if I can preuaile, he ſhall haue ſome of his kindred, as I haue inſtantly
deuiſed, what (in this hard caſe) is beſt to be done. Forthwith ſhe ſent
the maid to her Chamber, for diuers elles of white Damaske lying in her
Cheſt, which when ſhe had brought, they ſpread it abroad on the graſſe,
euen in the manner of a winding ſheete, and therein wrapped the bodie
of Gabriello, with a faire wrought pillow lying vnder his head, hauing firſt
(with their teares) cloſed his mouth and eyes, and placed a Chaplet of
Flowers on his head, couering the whole ſhrowd ouer in the ſame manner;
which being done, thus ſhe ſpake to her maide.
The doore of his owne houſe is not farre hence, and thither (between
vs two) he may be eaſily carried, euen in this maner as we haue adorned
him; where leauing him in his owne Porch, we may returne back before
it be day; and although it will be a ſad ſight to his friends; yet, becauſe he
dyed in mine armes, and we being ſo well diſcharged of the bodie, it will
be a little comfort to me. When ſhe had ended theſe words, which were
not vttered without infinite teares, the Maid entreated her to make haſt,
becauſe the night paſſed ſwiftly on. At laſt, ſhe remembred the Ring on
her finger, wherewith Gabriello had ſolemnly eſpouſed her, and opening
the ſhroud againe, ſhe put it on his finger, ſaying, My deare and louing
husband, if thy ſoule can ſee my teares, or any vnderſtanding to remaine
in thy body, being thus vntimely taken from me: receiue the lateſt guifte
thou gaueſt me, as a pledge of our ſolemne and ſpotleſſe marriage. So,
making vp the ſhroud againe as it ſhould be, and conueighing it cloſely
out of the Garden, they went on along with it, towardes his dwelling
houſe.
As thus they paſſed along, it fortuned, that they were met and taken
by the Guard or Watch belonging to the Poteſtate, who had bin ſo late
abroad, about very earneſt and important buſineſſe. Andreana, deſiring
more the dead mans company, then theirs whom ſhe had thus met withall,
boldly ſpake thus to them. I know who and what you are, and can tel
my ſelfe, that to offer flight will nothing auaile me: wherefore, I am ready
to go along with you before the Seigneurie, and there wil tel the truth
concerning this accident. But let not any man among you, be ſo bold as
to lay hand on me, or to touch me, becauſe I yeeld ſo obediently to you:
neither to take any thing from this body, except he intend that I ſhal accuſe
him. In which reſpect, not any one daring to diſpleaſe her, ſhee
went with the dead bodye to the Seigneurie, there to anſwere all Obiections.
When notice heereof was giuen to the Poteſtate, he aroſe; and ſhee
being brought foorth into the Hall before him, he queſtioned with her,
how and by what meanes this accident happened. Beſide, he ſent for diuers
Phyſitians, to be informed by them, whether the Gentleman were
poyſoned, or otherwiſe murthered: but al of them affirmed the contrary,
auouching rather, that ſome impoſtumation had engendred neere his
heart, which ſodainly breaking, occaſioned his as ſodaine death. The Poteſtate
hearing this, and perceiuing that Andreana was little or nothing
at all faulty in the matter: her beauty and good carriage, kindled a villanous
and luſtfull deſire in him towards her, prouoking him to the immodeſt
motion, that vpon granting his requeſt, he would releaſe her. But
when he ſaw, that all his perſwaſions were to no purpoſe, hee ſought to
compaſſe his will by violence; which, like a vertuous and valiant Virago,
ſhee worthily withſtood, defending her honour Nobly, and reproouing
him with many iniurious ſpeeches, ſuch as a luſtfull Letcher iuſtlie deſerued.
On the morrow morning, theſe newes being brought to her Father,
Meſſer Negro da Ponte Cararo; greeuing thereat exceedingly, and accompanied
with many of his friends, he went to the Palace. Being there arriued,
and informed of the matter by the Poteſtate: hee demaunded (in
teares) of his daughter, how, and by what meanes ſhee was brought thither?
The Poteſtate would needs accuſe her firſt, of outrage and wrong
offered to him by her, rather then to tarry her accuſing of him: yet, commending
the yong Maiden, and her conſtancie, proceeded to ſay, that
onely to proue her, he had made ſuch a motion to her, but finding her ſo
firmly vertuous, his loue and liking was now ſo addicted to her, that if hir
Father were ſo pleaſed, to forget the remembrance of her former ſecret
husband, he willingly would accept her in marriage.
While thus they continued talking, Andreana comming before her
Father, the teares trickling mainly downe her cheekes, and falling at his
feete, ſhe began in this manner. Deare Father, I ſhall not neede to make
an hiſtoricall relation, either of my youthfull boldneſſe or misfortunes,
becauſe you haue both ſeene and knowne them: rather moſt humblie, I
craue your pardon, for another errour by me committed, in that, both
without your leaue and liking, I accepted the man as my troth-plighted
husband, whom (aboue all other in the world) I moſt intirely affected. If
my offence heerein do challenge the forfeite of my life, then (good Father)
I free you from any ſuch pardon: becauſe my onely deſire is to die
your daughter, and in your gracious fauour; with which words, in ſigne
of her humility, ſhe kiſſed his feete. Meſſer Negro da Ponte, being a man
well ſtept into yeares, and of a milde and gentle nature, obſeruing what
his daughter had ſaide: could not refraine from teares, and in his weeping,
louingly tooke her from the ground, ſpeaking thus to her.
Daughter, I could haue wiſhed, that thou hadſt taken ſuch an husbād,
as (in my iudgement) had bene beſt fitting for thee, and yet if thou didſt
make election of one, anſwerable to thine owne good opinion & liking:
I haue no iuſt reaſon to be therewith offended. My greateſt cauſe of complaint,
is, thy too ſeuere concealing it from me, and the ſlender truſt thou
didſt repoſe in me, becauſe thou haſt loſt him, before I knew him. Neuertheleſſe,
ſeeing theſe occaſions are thus come to paſſe, and accidents
alreadie ended, cannot by any meanes be re-called: it is my will, that as I
would gladly haue contented thee, by making him my Sonne in Law, if
he had liued; ſo I will expreſſe the like loue to him now he is dead. And
ſo turning himſelf to his kindred and friends, louingly requeſted of them,
that they would grace Gabriello with moſt honorable obſequies.
By this time, the kindred and friends to the dead man (vppon noiſe of
his death bruited abroad) were likewiſe come to the Pallace, yea, moſt of
the men and women dwelling in the Citty, the bodie of Gabriello beeing
laide in the midſt of the Court, vpon the white Damaske ſhrowde giuen
by Andreana, with infinite Roſes and other ſweet Flowers lying thereon:
and ſuch was the peoples loue to him, that neuer was any mans death,
more to be bemoaned and lamented. Being deliuered out of the Court,
it was carried to buriall, not like a Burgeſſe or ordinary Citizen, but with
ſuch pompe as beſeemed a Lord Baron, and on the ſhoulders of very noble
Gentlemen, with very eſpeciall honor and reuerence.
Within ſome few dayes after, the Poteſtate purſuing his former motion
of marriage, and the Father mouing it to his daughter; ſhe wold not
by any meanes liſten thereto. And he being deſirous to giue her contentment,
deliuered her and her Chamber-maid into a Religious Abbey, very
famous for deuotion and ſanctity, where afterwardes they ended their
liues.
Faire Simonida affecting Paſquino, and walking with him in a pleaſant garden, it fortuned, that Paſquino rubbed his teeth with a leafe of Sage, and immediately fell downe dead. Simonida being brought before the bench of Iustice, and charged with the death of Paſquino: ſhe rubbed her teeth likewiſe with one of the leaues of the ſame Sage, as declaring what ſhee ſaw him do; and thereon ſhe dyed alſo in the ſame manner.
The ſeauenth Nouell.
Whereby is giuen to vnderſtand, that Loue & Death do vſe their power equally alike, as well vpon poore and meane perſons, as on them that are rich and Noble.
PAmphilus hauing ended his Tale, the King declaring an outward ſhew
of compaſſion, in regard of Andreanaes diſaſtrous Fortune: fixed his
eye on Madam Emillia, and gaue her ſuch an apparant ſigne, as expreſſed
his pleaſure, for her next ſucceeding in diſcourſe; which being ſufficient
for her vnderſtanding, thus ſhe began. Faire aſſembly, the Nouel ſo lately
deliuered by Pamphilus, maketh me willing to report another to you,
varying from it, in any kinde of reſemblance; onely this excepted: that
as Andreana loſt her louer in a Garden, euen ſo did ſhee of whome I am
now to ſpeake. And being brought before the ſeate of Iuſtice, according
as Andreana was, freed her ſelfe from the power of the Law; yet neither
by force, or her owne vertue, but by her ſodaine and inopinate death.
And although the nature of Loue is ſuch (according as wee haue oftentimes
heeretofore maintained) to make his abiding in the houſes of the
Nobleſt perſons; yet men and women of poore and farre inferiour quality,
do not alwayes ſit out of his reach, though encloſed in their meaneſt
Cottages; declaring himſelfe ſometimes as powerfull a commaunder in
thoſe humble places, as he doth in the richeſt and moſt imperious Palaces.
As will plainly appeare vnto you, either in all, or a great part of my
Nouell, whereto our Citie pleadeth ſome title; though, by the diuerſity
of our diſcourſes, talking of ſo many ſeuerall accidents; we haue wandred
into many other parts of the world, to make all anſwerable to our owne
liking.
It is not any long time ſince, when there liued in our City of Florence,
a young and beautifull Damoſell, yet according to the nature of hir condition;
becauſe ſhe was the Daughter of a poore Father, and called by
the name of Simonida. Now, albeit ſhee was not ſupplied by any better
meanes, then to maintaine her ſelfe by her owne painfull trauell, & earne
her bread before ſhee could eate it, by carding and ſpinning to ſuch as
employed her; yet was ſhe not of ſo baſe or deiected a ſpirit, but had both
courage and ſufficient vertue, to vnderſtand the ſecret ſolicitings of loue,
and to diſtinguiſh the parts of well deſeruing both by priuate behauiour
and outward ceremony. As naturall inſtinct was her firſt tutor thereto,
ſo wanted ſhe not a ſecond maine and vrging motion, a chip hewed out
of the like Timber, one no better in birth then her ſelfe, a proper young
ſpringall, named Paſquino, whoſe generous behauiour, and gracefull actions
(in bringing her daily wooll to ſpin, by reaſon his maſter was a Clothier)
preuailed vpon her liking and affection.
Nor was he negligent in the obſeruation of her amorous regards, but
the Tinder tooke, and his ſoule flamed with the ſelfe-ſame fire; making
him as deſirous of her louing acceptance, as poſsibly ſhe could bee of his:
ſo that the commanding power of loue, could not eaſily be diſtinguiſhed
in which of them it had the greater predominance. For, euerie day as he
brought her freſh ſupply of woolles, and found her ſeriouſly buſied at hir
wheele: her ſoule would vent forth many deepe ſighes, and thoſe ſighes
fetch floods of teares from her eyes, thorough the ſingular good opinion
ſhe had conceyued of him, and earneſt deſire to enioy him. Paſquino on
the other ſide, as leyſure gaue him leaue for the leaſt conuerſing with her:
his diſeaſe was euery way anſwerable to her, for teares ſtood in his eyes,
ſighes flew abroad, to eaſe the poore hearts afflicting oppreſſions, which
though he was vnable to conceale; yet would hee ſeeme to clowd them
cleanly, by entreating her that his maſters worke might be nearly performed,
and with ſuch ſpeed as time would permit her, intermixing infinite
praiſes of her artificiall ſpinning; and affirming withall, that the Quilles of
Yearne receiued from her, were the choiſeſt beauty of the whole peece;
ſo that when other worke-women played, Simonida was ſure to want no
employment.
Heereupon, the one ſoliciting, and the other taking delight in beeing
ſolicited; it came to paſſe, that often acceſſe bred the bolder courage, &
ouer-much baſhfulneſſe became abandoned, yet no immodeſtie paſſing
betweene them: but affection grew the better ſetled in them both▪ by interchangeable
vowes of conſtant perſeuerance, ſo that death onely, but
no diſaſter elſe had power to diuide them. Their mutuall delight continuing
on in this manner, with more forcible encreaſing of their Loues equall
flame it fortuned, that Paſquino ſitting by Simonida, tolde her of a
goodly Garden, whereto hee was deſirous to bring her, to the end, that
they might the more ſafely conuerſe together, without the ſuſpition of
enuious eyes. Simonida gaue anſwer of her well-liking the motion, and
acquainting her Father therewith, he gaue her leaue, on the Sunday following
after dinner, to go ferch the pardon of S. Gallo, and afterwards to
viſit the Garden.
A modeſt yong maiden named Lagina, following the ſame profeſſion,
and being an intimate familiar friend, Simonida tooke along in her company,
and came to the Garden appointed by Paſquino; where ſhee found
him readily expecting her comming, and another friend alſo with him,
called Puccino (albeit more vſually tearmed Strambo) a ſecret well-willer
to Lagina, whoſe loue became the more furthered by this friendly meeting.
Each Louer delighting in his hearts choſen Miſtreſſe, cauſed them
to walke alone by themſelues, as the ſpaciouſneſſe of the Garden gaue
them ample liberty: Puccino with his Lagina in one part, & Paſquino with
his Simonida in another. The walke which they had made choiſe of, was
by a long and goodly bed of Sage, turning and returning by the ſame bed
as their conference miniſtred occaſion, and as they pleaſed to recreate
themſelues, affecting rather to continue ſtill there, then in any part of the
Garden.
One while they would ſit downe by the Sage bed, and afterward riſe
to walke againe, as eaſe or wearineſſe ſeemed to inuite them. At length,
Paſquino chanced to crop a leafe of the Sage, wherewith he both rubbed
his teeth and gummes, and champing it betweene them alſo, ſaying; that
there was no better thing in the world to cleanſe the teeth withall, after
feeding. Not long had he thus champed the Sage in his teeth, returning
to his former kinde of diſcourſing, but his countenance began to change
very pale, his ſight failed, and ſpeech forſooke him; ſo that (in briefe) he
fell downe dead. Which when Simonida beheld, wringing her hands, ſhe
cryed out for helpe to Strambo and Lagina, who immediately came running
to her. They finding Paſquino not onely to be dead, but his bodie
ſwolne, and ſtrangely ouer-ſpred with foule black ſpots, both on his face,
handes, and all parts elſe beſide: Strambo cried out, ſaying; Ah wicked
maide, what haſt thou poiſoned him?
Theſe words and their ſhrill out-cries alſo, were heard by Neighbours
dwelling neere to the Garden, who comming in ſodainly vppon them,
and ſeeing Paſquino lying dead, and hugely ſwoln, Strambo likewiſe complaining,
and accuſing Simonida to haue poyſoned him; ſhee making no
anſwer, but ſtanding in a gaſtly amazement, all her ſenſes meerely confounded,
at ſuch a ſtrange and vncouth accident, in looſing him whome
ſhe ſo dearely loued: knew not how to excuſe her ſelfe, and therfore euery
one verily beleeued, that Strambo had not vniuſtly accuſed her. Poore
woful maide, thus was ſhee inſtantly apprehended, and drowned in her
teares, they led her along to the Poteſtates Palace, where her accuſation
was iuſtified by Strambo, Lagina, and two men more; the one named Atticciato,
and the other Malageuole, fellowes and companions with Paſquino,
who came into the Garden alſo vpon the out-cry.
The Iudge, without any delay at all, gaue eare to the buſines, and examined
the caſe very ſtrictly: but could by no meanes comprehend, that any
malice ſhould appeare in her towards him, nor that ſhe was guiltie of
the mans death. Wherefore, in the pre
•
ence of Simonida, hee deſired to
ſee the dead body, and the place where he fell downe dead, becauſe there
he intended to haue her relate, how ſhe ſaw the accident to happen, that
her owne ſpeeches might the ſooner condemne her, whereas the caſe yet
remained doubtfull, and farre beyond his comprehenſion. So, without
any further publication, and to auoid the following of the turbulent multitude:
they departed from the bench of Iuſtice, and came to the place,
where Paſquinoes body lay ſwolne like a Tunne. Demanding there queſtions,
concerning his behauiour, when they walked there in conference
together, and, not a little admiring the manner of his death, while hee
ſtood aduiſedly conſidering thereon.
She going to the bed of Sage, reporting the whole precedent hiſtory,
euen from the original to the ending: the better to make the caſe vnderſtood,
without the leaſt colour of ill carriage towardes Paſquino; according
as ſhe had ſeene him do, euen ſo did ſhe plucke another leafe of the
Sage, rubbing her teeth therewith, and champing it as he formerly did.
Strambo, and the other intimate friends of Paſquino, hauing noted in what
manner ſhe vſed the Sage, and this appearing as her vtmoſt refuge, either
to acquit or condemne her: in preſence of the Iudge they ſmiled thereat,
mocking and deriding whatſoeuer ſhee ſaide, or did, and deſiring (the
more earneſtly) the ſentence of death againſt her, that her body might be
conſumed with fire, as a iuſt puniſhment for her abhominable tranſgreſſion.
Poore Simonida, ſighing and ſorrowing for her deere loues loſſe, and
(perhappes) not meanly terrified, with the ſtrict infliction of torment ſo
ſeuerely vrged and followed by Strambo and the reſt: ſtanding dumb ſtill,
without anſwering ſo much as one word; by taſting of the ſame Sage,
fell downe dead by the bed, euen by the like accident as Paſquino formerly
did, to the admirable aſtoniſhment of all there preſent.
Oh poore infortunate Louers, whoſe Starres were ſo inauſpicious to
you, as to finiſh both your mortall liues, and feruent loue, in leſſe limitation
then a dayes ſpace. How to cenſure of your deaths, and happines to
enſue thereon, by an accident ſo ſtraunge and ineuitable: it is not within
the compaſſe of my power, but to hope the beſt, and ſo I leaue you. But
yet concerning Simonida her ſelfe, in the common opinion of vs that remaine
liuing: her true vertue and innocency (though Fortune was other
wiſe moſt cruell to her) would not ſuffer her to ſinke vnder the teſtimony
of Strambo, Lagina, Atticciato and Malageuole, being but carders of wool,
or perhaps of meaner condition; a happier courſe was ordained for her,
to paſſe clearly from their infamous imputation, and follow her Paſquino,
in the verie ſame manner of death, and with ſuch a ſpeedie expedition.
The Iudge ſtanding amazed, and all there preſent in his companie,
were ſilent for a long while together: but, vppon better re-collection of
his ſpirits, thus he ſpake. This inconuenience which thus hath hapned,
and confounded our ſenſes with no common admiration; in mine opinion
concerneth the bed of Sage, auouching it either to bee venomous,
or dangerouſly infected, which (neuertheleſſe) is ſeldom found in Sage.
But to the end, that it may not be offenſiue to any more heereafter, I will
haue it wholly digd vp by the rootes, and then to bee burnt in the open
Market place.
Hereupon, the Gardiner was preſently ſent for, and before the Iudge
would depart thence, he ſaw the bed of Sage digged vp by the roots, and
found the true occaſion, whereby theſe two poore Louers loſt their liues,
For, iuſt in the middeſt of the bed, and at the maine roote, which directed
all the Sage in growth; lay an huge mighty Toad, euen weltring (as
it were) in a hole full of poyſon; by meanes whereof, in coniecture of the
Iudge, and all the reſt, the whole bed of Sage became envenomed, occaſioning
euery leafe thereof to be deadly in taſte. None being ſo hardie,
as to approach neere the Toade, they made a pile of wood directly ouer
it, and ſetting it on a flaming fire, threw all the Sage therinto, and ſo they
were conſumed together. So ended all further ſuite in Lawe, concerning
the deaths of Paſquino and Simonida: whoſe bodies being carried to
the Church of Saint Paul, by their ſad and ſorrowfull accuſers, Strambo,
Lagina, Atticciato and Malageuole, were buried together in one goodlie
Monument, for a future memory of their hard Fortune.
Ieronimo affecting a yong Maiden, named Silueſtra: was conſtrained (by the earneſt importunity of his Mother) to take a iourney to Paris. At his return home from thence againe, hee found his loue Silueſtra married. By ſecret meanes, he got entrance into her houſe, and dyed vpon the bed lying by her. Afterward, his body being carried to Church, to receiue buriall, ſhe likewiſe died there inſtantly vpon his coarſe.
The eight Nouell.
Wherein is againe declared, the great indiſcretion and folly of them, that think to conſtraine loue, according to their will, after it is constantly ſetled before: With other instructions, concerning the vnſpeakeable power of Loue.
MAdam Emillia had no ſooner concluded her Nouell, but Madame
Neiphila (by the Kings command) began to ſpeake in this manner.
It ſeemeth to mee (Gracious Ladies) that there are ſome ſuch people to
be found, who imagine themſelues to know more, then all other elſe in
the world beſide, and yet indeede doe know nothing at all: preſuming
(thorough this arrogant opinion of theirs) to imploy and oppoſe their
ſenſeleſſe vnderſtanding, againſt infallible grounded reaſon, yea, and to
attempt courſes, not only contrary to the counſell and iudgment of men,
but alſo to croſſe the nature of diuine ordination. Out of which ſaucy &
ambitious preſumption, many mighty harmes haue already had beginning,
and more are like to enſue vppon ſuch boldneſſe, becauſe it is the
ground of all euils.
Now, in regard that among all other naturall things, no one is leſſe
ſubiect to take counſell, or can bee wrought to contrariety, then Loue,
whoſe nature is ſuch, as rather to run vpon his owne raſh conſumption,
then to be ruled by admonitions of the very wiſeſt: my memory hath inſpired
it ſelf, with matter incident to this purpoſe, effectually to approue,
what I haue already ſaid. For I am now to ſpeake of a woman, who would
appeare to haue more wit, then either ſhe had indeed, or appertained to
her by any title▪ The matter alſo, wherein ſhe would needs ſhew hir ſtudious
iudgement and capacity, was of much more conſequence then ſhe
could deſerue to meddle withall. Yet ſuch was the iſſue of her fond preſuming;
that (in one inſtant) ſhe expelled both loue, and the ſoule of her
owne ſonne out of his body, where (doubtleſſe) it was planted by diuine
fauour and appointment.
In our owne City (according to true & ancient teſtimony) there dwelt
ſometime a very worthy and wealthy Merchant, named Leonardo Sighiero,
who by his wife had one onely Sonne, called Ieronimo and within a
ſhort while after his birth, Leonardo being very ſicke, and hauing ſetled al
his affaires in good order; departed out of this wretched life to a better.
The Tutors and Gouernours of the Childe, thought it fitteſt to let him
liue with his Mother, where he had his whole education, though ſchooled
among many other worthy neighbours children, according as in moſt
Cities they vſe to do. Yong Ieronimo growing on in yeares, and frequenting
dayly the company of his Schoole-fellowes and others: hee would
often ſport (as the reſt did) with the neighbors, and much prety paſtime
they found together.
In the harmleſſe recreations of youth, grauer iudgements haue often
obſerued, that ſome eſpeciall matter receiued then ſuch original, as greater
effect hath followed thereon. And many times, parents and kindred
haue bene the occaſion (although perhaps beyond their expectation) of
very ſtrange and extraordinary accidents, by names of familiarity paſſing
betweene Boyes and Girles, as King and Queene, ſweet heart and ſweet
heart, friend and friend, husband and wife, and diuers other ſuch like kind
tearmes, proouing afterwards to be true indeede. It fell out ſo with our
yong Ieronimo; for, among a number of pretty Damoſels, daughters to
men of eſpeciall reſpect, and others of farre inferiour qualitie: a Taylors
daughter, excelling the reſt in fauour and feature (albeit her Father was
but poore) Ieronimo moſt delighted to ſport withall; and no other titles
paſſed betweene them, euen in the hearing of their parents and friendes,
but wife and husband: ſuch was the beginning of their young affection,
preſaging (no doubt) effectually to follow.
Nor grew this familiarity (as yet) any way diſtaſted, till by their dayly
conuerſing together, and enterchange of infinite pretty ſpeeches: Ieronimo
felt a ſtrange alteration in his ſoule, with ſuch enforcing and powerfull
afflictions; as he was neuer well but in her company, nor ſhe enioyed
any reſt if Ieronimo were abſent. At the length, this being noted by
his Mother, ſhe beganne to rebuke him, yea, many times gaue him both
threatnings and blowes, which prouing to no purpoſe, nor hindering his
acceſſe to her; ſhe complained to his Tutors, and like one that in regard
of her riches, thought to plant an Orange vpon a blacke thorne, ſpake as
followeth.
This Sonne of mine Ieronimo, being as yet but fourteene years of age,
is ſo deeply enamored of a yong Girle, named Silueſtra, daughter vnto a
poore Tailor, our neere dwelling neighbour: that if we do not ſend him
out of her company, one day (perhaps) he may make her his wife, and yet
without any knowledge of ours, which queſtionleſſe would be my death.
Otherwiſe, he may pine and conſume himſelfe away, if he ſee vs procure
her marriage to ſome other. Wherefore, I hold it good, that to auoid ſo
great an inconuenience, we ſhold ſend Ieronimo ſome far diſtance hence,
to remaine where ſome of our Factors are employed: becauſe, when he
ſhall be out of her ſight, and their often meetings vtterly diſappointed;
his affection to her will the ſooner ceaſſe, by fruſtrating his hope for euer
enioying her, and ſo we ſhall haue the better meanes, to match him with
one of greater quality. The Tutors did like well of her aduice, not doubting
but it would take anſwerable effect: and therefore, calling Ieronimo
into a priuate Parlor, one of them began in this manner.
Ieronimo, you are now growne to an indifferent ſtature, and (almoſt) able
to take gouernment of your ſelfe. It cannot then ſeeme any way inconuenient,
to acquaint you with your deceaſed Fathers affaires, and by
what good courſes he came to ſuch wealth. You are his onely ſonne and
heire, to whom hee hath bequeathed his rich poſſeſſions (your Mothers
moity euermore remembred) and trauaile would now ſeeme fitting for
you, as well to experience in Traffick and Merchandize, as alſo to let you
ſee the worlds occurrences. Your Mother therfore (and we) haue thought
it expedient, that you ſhould iourney from hence to Paris, there to continue
for ſome ſuch fitting time, as may grant you full and free opportunity,
to ſuruey what ſtocke of wealth is there employed for you, and to
make you vnderſtand, how your Factors are furtherous to your affayres.
Beſide, this is the way to make you a man of more ſolid apprehenſion, &
perfect inſtruction in ciuill courſes of life; rather then by continuing here
to ſee none but Lords, Barons, and Gentlemen, whereof wee haue too
great a number. When you are ſufficiently qualified there, and haue
learned what belongeth to a worthy Marchant, ſuch as was Leonardo Sighiero
your famous Father; you may returne home againe at your owne
pleaſure.
The youth gaue them attentiue hearing, and (in few words) returned
them anſwer: That he would not giue way to any ſuch trauaile, becauſe
hee knew how to diſpoſe of himſelfe in Florence, as well as in any other
place he ſhould be ſent too. Which when his Tutors heard, they reproued
him with many ſeuere ſpeeches: and ſeeing they could win no other
anſwer from him, they made returne thereof to his Mother. Shee ſtorming
extreamly thereat, yet not ſo much for denying the iourney to Paris,
as in regard of his violent affection to the Maide; gaue him very bitter
and harſh language. All which auailing nothing, ſhe began to ſpeake
in a more milde and gentle ſtraine, entreating him with flattering and affable
words, to be gouerned in this caſe by his Tutors good aduiſe. And
ſo farre (in the end) ſhe preuailed with him, that he yeelded to liue at Paris
for the ſpace of a yeare; but further time he would not graunt, and ſo
all was ended.
Ieronimo being gone to remain at Paris, his loue daily increaſing more
and more, by reaſon of his abſence from Silueſtra, vnder faire and friendly
promiſes, of this moneth and the next moneth ſending for him home;
there they detained him two whole yeares together. Whereuppon, his
loue was growne to ſuch an extremity, that he neither would, or could abide
any longer there, but home hee returned, before hee was expected.
His loue Silueſtra, by the cunning compacting of his Mother and Tutors,
he found married to a Tent-makers Sonne; whereat hee vexed and greeued
beyond all meaſure. Neuertheleſſe, ſeeing the caſe was now no way
to bee holpen; hee ſtroue to beare it with ſo much patience, as ſo great
a wrong, and his hearts tormenting greefe, would giue him leaue to
doe.
Hauing found out the place where ſhe dwelt, hee began (as it is the
cuſtome of yong Louers) to vſe diuers daily walkes by her door: as thinking
in his minde, that her remembrance of him was conſtantly continued,
as his was moſt intirely fixed on her. But the caſe was verie ſtrangely
altred, becauſe ſhe was now growne no more mindfull of him, then if ſhe
had neuer ſeene him before. Or if ſhe did any way remember him, it appeared
to be ſo little, that manifeſt ſignes declared the contrary. Which
Ieronimo very quickely perceiued, albeit not without many melanchollie
perturbations. Notwithſtanding, he laboured by all poſſible meanes, to
recouer her former kindneſſe againe: but finding all his paines friuouſlie
employed; he reſolued to dye, and yet to compaſſe ſome ſpeech with her
before.
By meanes of a neere dwelling neighbour (that was his verie deare &
intimate friend) he came acquainted with euery part of the houſe, & preuailed
ſo far, that one euening; when ſhe and her husband ſupt at a neighbours
houſe; he compaſſed acceſſe into the ſame bed chamber, where Siluestra
vſed moſt to lodge. Finding the Curtaines ready drawne, he hid
himſelfe behinde them on the further ſide of the bed, and ſo tarried there
vntlll Siluestra and her husband were returned home, and laide downe in
bedde to take their reſt. The husbands ſences were ſoone ouercome with
ſleepe, by reaſon of his painefull toyling all the day, and bodies that are
exerciſed with much labour, are the more deſirous to haue eaſe. She ſtaying
vp laſt, to put out the light, and hearing her husband ſleepe ſo ſoundly,
that his ſnoring gaue good euidence thereof: layed her ſelfe down the
more reſpectiuely, as being very loath any way to diſeaſe him, but ſweetly
to let him enioy his reſt.
Siluestra lay on the ſame ſide of the bed, where Ieronimo had hid himſelfe
behinde the Curtaines; who ſtepping ſoftly to her in the darke, and
laying his hand gently on her breſt, ſaide: Deare Loue, forbeare a little
while to ſleepe, for heere is thy loyall friend Ieronimo. The yong woman
ſtarting with amazement, would haue cried out, but that hee entreated
her to the contrary; proteſting, that he came for no ill intent to her, but
onely to take his lateſt leaue of her. Alas Ieronimo (quoth ſhe) thoſe idle
dayes are paſt and gone, when it was no way vnſeemly for our youth, to
entertaine equality of thoſe deſires, which then well agreed with our
young blood. Since when, you haue liued in forraine Countries, which
appeared to me to alter your former diſpoſition: for, in the ſpace of two
whole yeares, either you grew forgetfull of me (as change of ayre, may
change affection) or (at the beſt) made ſuch account of mee, as I neuer
heard the leaſt ſalutation from you. Now you know me to be a married
wife, in regard whereof, my thoughts haue embraced that chaſte and honourable
reſolution, not to minde any man but my husband; and therefore,
as you are come hither without my loue or licenſe, ſo in like manner
I do deſire you to be gone. Let this priuiledge of my Husbandes ſound
ſleeping, be no colour to your longer continuing heere, or encourage
you to finde any further fauour at mine hand: for if mine husband ſhold
awake, beſide the danger that thereon may follow to you, I cannot but
looſe the ſweet happineſſe of peacefull life, which hitherto we haue both
mutually embraced.
The yong man, hearing theſe wordes, and remembring what louing
kindneſſe he had formerly found, what ſecret loue Letters hee had ſent
from Paris, with other priuate intelligences and tokens, which neuer
came to her receite and knowledge, ſo cunningly his Mother and Tutors
had carried the matter: immediately he felt his heart ſtrings to break; and
lying downe vpon the beds ſide by her, vttered theſe his very laſt words.
Siluestra farewell, thou haſt kilde the kindeſt heart that euer loued a woman:
and ſpeaking no more, gaue vp the ghoſt. She hearing theſe words
deliuered with an entire ſighe, and deepe-fetcht groane: did not imagine
the ſtrange conſequence following thereon; yet was mooued to much
compaſſion, in regard of her former affection to him. Silent ſhee lay an
indifferent while, as being vnable to returne him any anſwer; and looking
when he would be gone, according as before ſhe had earneſtly entreated
him. But when ſhe perceyued him to lye ſo ſtill, as neither word or motion
came from him, ſhe ſaide: Kinde Ieronimo, why doeſt thou not depart
and get thee gone? So putting forth her hand, it hapned to light vpon
his face, which ſhe felt to be as cold as yce: whereat maruelling not a
little, as alſo at his continued ſilence: ſhee iogged him, and felt his hands
in like manner, which were ſtiffely extended forth, and all his body cold,
as not hauing any life remaining in him, which greatly amazing her, and
confounding her with ſorow beyond all meaſure, ſhee was in ſuch perplexity,
that ſhe could not deuiſe what to do or ſay.
In the end, ſhe reſolued to try how her husband would take it, that ſo
ſtrange an accident ſhould thus happen in his houſe, and putting the caſe
as if it did not concerne them, but any other of the neighbours; awaking
him firſt, demaunded of him what was beſt to bee done, if a man ſhould
ſteale into a neighbours houſe, vnknowne to him, or any of his family; &
in his bed chamber to be found dead. He preſently replyed (as not thinking
the caſe concerned himſelfe) that, the onely helpe in ſuch an vnexpected
extremity, was, to take the dead body, and conuey it to his owne
houſe, if he had any; whereby no ſcandall or reproach would followe
to them, in whoſe houſe he had ſo vnfortunately dyed. Heereupon, ſhee
immediately aroſe, and lighting a candle, ſhewed him the dead bodie of
Ieronimo, with proteſtation of euery particular, both of her innocencie,
either of knowledge of his comming thither, or any other blame that
could concerne her. Which hee both inſtantly knowing and beleeuing,
made no more ceremonie, but putting on his Garments, tooke the dead
bodie vpon his ſhoulders, and carried it to the Mothers doore, where he
left it, and afterward returned to his owne houſe againe.
When day light was come, and the dead body found lying in the
Porch, it moued very much greefe and amazement, conſidering, he had
bin ſeene the day before, in perfect health to outward appearance. Nor
neede we to vrge any queſtion of his Mothers ſorrow vpon this ſtraunge
accident, who, cauſing his body to bee carefully ſearched, without any
blow, bruiſe, wound, or hurt vppon it, the Phyſitians could not giue any
other opinion, but that ſome inward conceyte of greefe had cauſed his
death, as it did indeed, and no way otherwiſe. To the cheefe Church was
the dead body carried, to be generally ſeene of all the people, his mother
and friends weeping heauily by it, as many more did the like beſide, becauſe
he was beloued of euery one. In which time of vniuerſall mourning,
the honeſt man (in whoſe houſe he dyed) ſpake thus to his wife: diſguiſe
thy ſelfe in ſome decent manner, and go to the Church, where (as
I heare) they haue laide the body of Ieronimo. Crowde in amongeſt the
Women, as I will doe the like amongſt the men, to heare what opinion
paſſeth of his death, and whether wee ſhall bee ſcandalized thereby, or
no.
Siluestra, who was now become full of pitty too late, quickely condiſcended,
as deſiring to ſee him dead, whom ſometime ſhe dearly affected
in life. And being come to the Church, it is a matter to bee admired, if
aduiſedly we conſider on the powerfull working of loue; for the heart of
this woman, which the proſperous fortune of Ieronimo could not pierce,
now in his wofull death did ſplit in ſunder; and the ancient ſparks of loue
ſo long concealed in the embers, brake foorth into a furious flame; and
being violently ſurprized with extraordinary compaſſion, no ſooner did
ſhe come neere to the dead body, where many ſtoode weeping round about
it; but ſtrangely ſhrieking out aloud, ſhe fell downe vpon it: & euen
as extremity of greefe finiſhed his life, ſo did it hers in the ſame manner.
For ſhe moued neither hand nor foot, becauſe her vitall powers had quite
forſaken her. The women labouring to comfort her by al the beſt means
they could deuiſe; did not take any knowledge of her, by reaſon of her
diſguiſed garments: but finding her dead indeede, and knowing her alſo
to be Silueſtra, being ouercome with vnſpeakable compaſſion, & danted
with no meane admiration, they ſtood ſtrangely gazing each vpon other.
Wonderfull crowds of people were then in the Church; and this accident
being now noyſed among the men, at length it came to her Huſbands
vnderſtanding, whoſe greefe was ſo great, as it exceeded all capacitie
of expreſſion. Afterward, he declared what had hapned in his houſe
the precedent night, according as his wife had truly related to him, with
all the ſpeeches, which paſt between Silueſtra and Ieronimo; by which diſcourſe,
they generally conceiued, the certaine occaſion of both their ſodaine
deaths, which moued them to great compaſſion. Then taking the
yong womans body, and ordering it as a coarſe ought to bee: they layed
it on the ſame Biere by the yong man, and when they had ſufficiently ſorrowed
for their diſaſtrous fortune, they gaue them honourable buriall
both in one graue. So, this poore couple, whome loue (in life) could not
ioyne together, death did vnite in an inſeparable coniunction.
Meſſer Guiglielmo of Roſſiglione hauing ſlaine Meſſer Guiglielmo Guardaſtagno, whom hee imagined to loue his wife, gaue her his heart to eate. Which ſhe knowing afterward, threw her ſelfe out of an high window to the ground; and being dead, was then buried with her friend.
The ninth Nouell.
Whereby appeareth, what ill ſucceſſe attendeth on them, that loue contrarie to reaſon: in offering iniurie both to friendſhip and marriage together.
WHen the Nouell of Madam Neiphila was ended, which occaſioned
much compaſſion in the whole aſſembly; the King who wold
not infringe the priuiledge graunted to Dioneus, no more remaining to
ſpeake but they two, began thus. I call to minde (gentle Ladies) a Nouell,
which (ſeeing we are ſo farre entred into the lamentable accidents of
ſucceſſeleſſe loue, will vrge you vnto as much commiſſeration, as that ſo
lately reported to you. And ſo much the rather, becauſe the perſons of
whom we are to ſpeake, were of reſpectiue quality; which approueth the
accident to bee more cruell, then thoſe whereof wee haue formerly diſcourſed.
According as the people of Prouence do report, there dwelt ſometime
in that iuriſdiction, two noble Knights, each well poſſeſſed of Caſtles &
followers; the one beeing named Meſſer Guiglielmo de Roſsiglione, and the
other Meſſer Guiglielmo Guardaſtagno. Now, in regard that they wer both
valiant Gentlemen, and ſingularly expert in actions of Armes; they loued
together the more mutually, and held it as a kinde of cuſtom, to be ſeene
in all Tiltes and Tournaments, or any other exerciſes of Armes, going
commonly alike in their wearing garments. And although their Caſtles
ſtood about fiue miles diſtant each from other, yet were they dayly conuerſant
together, as very louing and intimate friends. The one of them, I
meane Meſſer Guiglielmo de Roſsiglione, had to wife a very gallant beautifull
Lady, of whom Meſſer Guardaſtagno (forgetting the lawes of reſpect
and loyall friendſhippe) became ouer-fondly enamoured, expreſſing the
ſame by ſuch outward meanes, that the Lady her ſelfe tooke knowledge
thereof, and not with any diſlike, as it ſeemed, but rather louingly entertained;
yet ſhe grew not ſo forgetfull of her honour and eſtimation, as
the other did of faith to his friend.
With ſuch indiſcretion was this idle loue carried, that whether it ſorted
to effect, or no, I know not: but the husband receiued ſome ſuch maner
of behauiour, as hee could not eaſily digeſt, nor thought it fitting to
endure. Whereuppon, the league of friendly amity ſo long continued,
began to faile in very ſtrange faſhion, and became conuerted into deadly
hatred: which yet hee very cunningly concealed, bearing an outwarde
ſhew of conſtant friendſhippe ſtill, but (in his heart) hee had vowed the
death of Guardaſtagno. Nothing wanted, but by what meanes it might
beſt be effected, which fell out to bee in this manner. A publicke luſt or
Tourney, was proclaimed by ſound of Trumpet throughout all France,
wherewith immediately, Meſſer Guiglielmo Roſsiglione acquainted Meſſer
Guardaſtagno, entreating him that they might further conferre theron together,
and for that purpoſe to come and viſit him, if he intended to haue
any hand in the buſineſſe. Guardaſtagno being exceeding gladde of this
accident, which gaue him liberty to ſee his Miſtreſſe; ſent anſwer backe
by the meſſenger, that on the morrow at night, he would come and ſup
with Roſsiglione; who vpon this reply, proiected to himſelfe in what maner
to kill him.
On the morrow, after dinner, arming himſelfe, and two more of his
ſeruants with him, ſuch as he had ſolemnly ſworne to ſecrecy, hee mounted
on horſeback, and rode on about a mile from his owne Caſtle, where
he lay cloſely ambuſhed in a Wood, through which Guardaſtagno muſt
needs paſſe. After he had ſtayed there ſome two houres ſpace and more,
he eſpyed him come riding with two of his attendants, all of them being
vnarmed, as no way diſtruſting any ſuch intended treaſon. So ſoone as
he was come to the place, where he had reſolued to do the deed; hee ruſhed
forth of the ambuſh, and hauing a ſharpe Lance readily charged in
his reſt, ran mainly at him, ſaying: Falſe villaine, thou art dead. Guardaſtagno,
hauing nothing wherewith to defend himſelfe, nor his ſeruants able
to giue him any ſuccour; being pierced quite through the body with
the Lance, downe hee fell dead to the ground, and his men (fearing the
like misfortune to befall them) gallopped mainely backe againe to their
Lords Caſtle, not knowing them who had thus murthered their Maſter,
by reaſon of their armed diſguiſes, which in thoſe martiall times were vſually
worne.
Meſſer Guiglielmo Roſsiglione, alighting from his horſe, and hauing a
keene knife ready drawne in his hand; opened therewith the breſt of dead
Guardaſtagno, and taking foorth his heart with his owne hands, wrapped
it in the Banderole belonging to his Lance, commanding one of his men
to the charge thereof, and neuer to diſcloſe the deed. So, mounting on
horſe-backe againe, and darke night drawing on apace, he returned home
to his Caſtle. The Lady, who had heard before of Guardaſtagnoes intent,
to ſuppe there that night, and (perhaps) being earneſtly deſirous to ſee
him; meruailing at his ſo long tarrying, ſaide to her husband. Beleeue
me Sir (quoth ſhe) me thinkes it is ſomewhat ſtrange, that Meſſer Guiglielmo
Guardaſtagno delayes his comming ſo long, he neuer vſed to do ſo til
now. I receiued tidings from him wife (ſaid he) that he cannot be heere
till to morrow. Whereat the Lady appearing to bee diſpleaſed, concealed
it to her ſelfe, and vſed no more words.
Roſsiglione leauing his Lady, went into the Kitchin, where calling for
the Cooke, he deliuered him the heart, ſaying: Take this heart of a wilde
Boare, which it was my good happe to kill this day, and dreſſe it in the
daintieſt manner thou canſt deuiſe to doe; which being ſo done, when I
am ſet at the Table, ſend it to me in a ſiluer diſh, with ſauce beſeeming
ſo dainty a morſell. The Cooke tooke the heart, beleeuing it to be no otherwiſe,
then as his Lord had ſaide: and vſing his vtmoſt skill in dreſſing
it, did diuide it into artificiall ſmall ſlices, and made it moſt pleaſing to be
taſted. When ſupper time was come, Roſsiglione ſate downe at the table
with his Lady: but hee had little or no appetite at all to eate, the wicked
deed which he had done ſo perplexed his ſoule, and made him to ſit very
ſtrangely muſing. At length, the Cook brought in the dainty diſh, which
he himſelfe ſetting before his wife, began to finde fault with his own lack
of ſtomack, yet prouoked her with many faire ſpeeches, to taſt the Cooks
cunning in ſo rare a diſh.
The Lady hauing a good appetite indeede, when ſhe had firſt taſted it,
fed afterward ſo heartily thereon, that ſhee left very little, or none at all
remaining. When he perceyued that all was eaten, he ſaid vnto her: Tel
me Madam, how you do like this delicate kinde of meat? In good faith
Sir (quoth ſhe) in all my life I was neuer better pleaſed. Now truſt mee
Madam, anſwered the Knight, I doe verily beleeue you, nor do I greatly
wonder thereat, if you like that dead, which you loued ſo dearly being aliue.
When ſhe heard theſe words, a long while ſhe ſate ſilent, but afterward
ſaide. I pray you tell mee Sir, what meate was this which you haue
made me to eate? Muſe no longer (ſaid he) for therein I will quickly reſolue
thee. Thou haſt eaten the heart of Meſſer Guiglielmo Guardaſtagno,
whoſe loue was ſo deare and precious to thee, thou falſe, perfidious, and
diſloyall Lady: I pluckt it out of his vile body with mine owne hands, and
made my Cooke to dreſſe it for thy diet.
Poor Lady, how ſtrangely was her ſoule afflicted, hearing theſe harſh
and vnpleaſing ſpeeches? Teares flowed aboundantly from her faire eies,
and like tempeſtuous windes embowelled in the earth, ſo did vehement
ſighes breake mainly from her heart, and after a tedious time of ſilence,
ſhe ſpake in this manner. My Lord and husband, you haue done a moſt
diſloyall and damnable deede, miſguided by your owne wicked iealous
opinion, and not by any iuſt cauſe giuen you, to murther ſo worthie and
Noble a Gentleman. I proteſt vnto you vppon my ſoule, which I wiſh
to bee confounded in eternall perdition, if euer I were vnchaſte to your
bedde, or allowed him any other fauour, but what might well become ſo
honourable a friend. And ſeeing my bodie hath bene made the receptacle
for ſo precious a kinde of foode, as the heart of ſo valiant and courteous
a Knight, ſuch as was the Noble Guardaſtagno; neuer ſhall any other
foode heereafter, haue entertainment there, or my ſelfe liue the Wife to
ſo bloody a husband.
So ſtarting vppe from the Table, and ſtepping vnto a great gazing
Windowe, the Caſement whereof ſtanding wide open behinde her:
violently ſhee leaped out thereat, which beeing an huge heighth in diſtance
from the ground, the fall did not onely kill her, but alſo ſhiuered
her bodie into many peeces. Which Roſsiglione perceyuing, hee ſtoode
like a bodie without a ſoule, confounded with the killing of ſo deare a
friend, loſſe of a chaſte and honourable wife, and all through his owne ounr-credulous
conceit.
Vppon further conference with his priuate thoughtes, and remorſefull
acknowledgement of his heinous offence, which repentance (too
late) gaue him eyes now to ſee, though raſhneſſe before would not permit
him to conſider; theſe two extreamities inlarged his dulled vnderſtanding.
Firſt, he grew fearfull of the friends and followers to murdered
Guardaſtagno, as alſo the whole Countrey of Prouence, in regarde of the
peoples generall loue vnto him; which being two maine and important
motiues, both to the deteſtation of ſo horrid an acte, and immediate ſeuere
reuenge to ſucceed thereon: hee made ſuch prouiſion as beſt hee
could, and as ſo ſodaine a warning would giue leaue, hee fled away ſecretly
in the night ſeaſon.
Theſe vnpleaſing newes were ſoone ſpread abroad the next morning,
not only of the vnfortunate accidents, but alſo of Roſsiglions flight;
in regard wherof, the dead bodyes being found, and brought together,
as well by the people belonging to Guardaſtagno, as them that attended
on the Lady: they were layed in the Chappell of Roſsigliones Caſtell;
where, after ſo much lamentation for ſo great a misfortune to befal them,
they were honourably enterred in one faire Tombe, with excellent Verſes
engrauen thereon, expreſſing both their noble degree, and by what
vnhappy meanes, they chanced to haue buriall there.
A Phyſitians wife laide a Louer of her Maids (ſuppoſing him to bee dead) in a Cheſt, by reaſon that he had drunke Water, which vſually was giuen to procure a ſleepy entrancing. Two Lombard Vſurers, ſtealing the Cheſt, in hope of a rich booty, carried it into their owne houſe, where afterward the man awaking, was apprehended for a Theefe. The Chamber-maide to the Phyſitians wife, going before the bench of Iuſtice, accuſeth her ſelfe for putting the imagined dead body into the Cheſt, by which meanes he eſcapeth hanging: And the theeues which ſtole away the Cheſt, were condemned to pay a great ſumme of money.
The tenth Nouell.
Wherein is declared, that ſometime by aduenturous accident, rather then anie reaſonable comprehenſion, a man may eſcape out of manifold perilles, but eſpecially in occurrences of Loue.
AFTER that the King had concluded his Nouell, there remained
none now but Dioneus to tell the laſt: which himſelfe confeſſing,
and the King commaunding him to proceede, he beganne in this
manner. So many miſeries of vnfortunate Loue, as all of you haue
alreadie related, hath not onely ſwolne your eyes with weeping, but
alſo made ſicke our hearts with ſighing: yea (Gracious Ladies) I my
ſelfe finde my ſpirits not meanly afflicted thereby. Wherefore the whole
day hath bene very irkeſome to me, and I am not a little glad, that it is ſo
neere ending. Now, for the better ſhutting it vp altogether, I would be
very loath to make an addition, of any more ſuch ſad and mournfull matter,
good for nothing but onely to feede melancholly humor, and from
which (I hope) my faire Starres will defend me. Tragical diſcourſe, thou
art no fit companion for me, I will therefore report a Nouell which may
miniſter a more iouiall kinde of argument, vnto thoſe tales that muſt bee
told to morrow, and with the expiration of our preſent Kings reigne, to
rid vs of all heart-greeuing heereafter.
Know then (moſt gracious aſſembly) that it is not many yeares ſince,
when there liued in Salerne, a verie famous Phyſitian, named Signieur
Mazzeo della Montagna, who being already well entred into years, would
(neuertheleſſe) marrie with a beautifull young Mayden of the Cittie,
beſtowing rich garments, gaudie attyres, Ringes, and Iewelles on her,
ſuch as few Women elſe could any way equall, becauſe hee loued her
moſt deerely. Yet being an aged man, and neuer remembering, how
vaine and idle a thing it is, for age to make ſuch an vnfitting Election,
iniurious to both; and therefore endangering that domeſticke agreement,
which ought to bee the ſole and maine comfort of Marriage: it
maketh mee therefore to miſdoubt, that as in our former Tale of Signiour
Ricciardo de Cinzica, ſome dayes of the Calender did heere ſeeme
as diſtaſtefull, as thoſe that occaſioned the other Womans diſcontentment.
In ſuch vnequall choyſes, Parents commonly are more blamewoorthie,
then any imputation, to bee layde on the young Women,
who gladdely would enioy ſuch as in heart they haue elected: but that
their Parents, looking thorough the glaſſes of greedie lucre, doe ouerthrow
both their owne hopes, and the faire fortunes of their children together.
Yet to ſpeake vprightly of this young married Wife, ſhe declared her
ſelfe to be of a wiſe and chearefull ſpirit, not diſcoraged with her inequalitie
of marriage: but bearing all with a contented browe, for feare of vrging
the very leaſt miſlike in her Husband. And hee, on the other ſide,
when occaſions did not call him to viſite his pacients, or to be preſent at
the Colledge among his fellow-Doctours, would alwayes bee chearing
and comforting his Wife, as one that could hardly affoord to bee out of
her company. There is one eſpeciall fatall misfortune, which commonly
awaiteth on olde mens marriages; when freezing December will match
with flouring May, and greene deſires appeare in age, beyond all poſſibility
of performance. Nor are there wanting good ſtore of wanton Gallants,
who hating to ſee Beauty in this manner betrayed, and to the embraces
of a loathed bed, will make their folly ſeene in publike appearance,
and by their dayly proffers of amorous ſeruices (ſeeming compaſſionate
of the womans diſaſter) are vſually the cauſe of iealous ſuſpitions, & very
heinous houſhold diſcontentments.
Among diuers other, that faine would bee nibling at this bayte of
beautie, there was one, named Ruggiero de Ieroly, of honourable parentage,
but yet of ſuch a deboſhed and diſordered life, as neither Kindred
or Friends, were willing to take any knowledge of him, but vtterly gaue
him ouer to his diſſolute courſes: ſo that, thoroughout all Salerne, his
conditions cauſed his generall contempt, and hee accounted no better,
but euen as a theeuing and lewde companion. The Doctours Wife,
had a Chamber-maide attending on her; who, notwithſtanding all the
vgly deformities in Ruggiero, regarding more his perſon then his imperfections
(becauſe hee was a compleate and well-featured youth) beſtowed
her affection moſt entirely on him, and oftentimes did ſupplie his
wants, with her owne beſt meanes.
Ruggiero hauing this benefite of the Maides kinde loue to him, made it
an hopefull mounting Ladder, whereby to deriue ſome good liking from
the Miſtreſſe, preſuming rather on his outward comely parts, then anie
other honeſt quality that might commend him. The Miſtreſſe knowing
what choyſe her Maide had made, and vnable by any perſwaſions to remooue
her, tooke knowledge of Ruggieroes priuat reſorting to hir houſe,
and in meere loue to her Maide (who had very many eſpeciall deſeruings
in her) oftentimes ſhe would (in kinde manner) rebuke him, and aduiſe
him to a more ſetled courſe of life; which counſell, that it might take the
better effect; ſhe graced with liberall gifts: one while with Gold, others
with Siluer, and often with garments, for his comelier acceſſe thether:
which bounty, he (like a lewde miſtaker) interpreted as aſſurances of her
affection to him, and that he was more graceful in her eye, then any man
elſe could be.
In the continuance of theſe proceedings, it came to paſſe, that maſter
Doctor Mazzeo (being not onely a moſt expert Phyſitian, but likewiſe
as skilfull in Chirurgerie beſide) hadde a Pacient in cure, who by great
misfortune, had one of his legges broken all in pieces; which ſome weaker
iudgement hauing formerly dealt withall, the bones and ſinewes were
become ſo fowly putrified, as he tolde the parties friends, that the legge
muſt bee quite cut off, or elſe the Pacient muſt needes dye: yet he intended
ſo to order the matter, that the perrill ſhould proceede no further,
to preiudice any other part of the bodie. The caſe beeing thus
reſolued on with the Pacient and his Friends, the day and time was appointed
when the deede ſhould be done: and the Doctor conceyuing,
that except the Patient were ſleepily entranced, hee could not by anie
meanes endure the paine, but muſt needes hinder what he meant to do:
by diſtillation hee made ſuch an artificiall Water, as (after the Pacient
hath receyued it) it will procure a kinde of dead ſleepe, and endure ſo
long a ſpace, as neceſſity requireth the vſe thereof, in full performance of
the worke.
After he had made this ſleepy water, he put it into a glaſſe, wherewith
it was filled (almoſt) vp to the brimme; and till the time came when hee
ſhould vſe it, hee ſet it in his owne Chamber-Windowe, neuer acquainting
any one, to what purpoſe he had prouided the water, nor what
was his reaſon of ſetting it there; when it drew towards the euening, and
he was returned home from his pacients, a Meſſenger brought him Letters
from Malfy, concerning a great conflict hapning there between two
Noble Families, wherein diuers were very dangerouſly wounded on either
ſide, and without his ſpeedy repairing thither, it would proue to the
loſſe of many liues. Heereupon, the cure of the mans leg muſt needs bee
prolonged, vntill he was returned backe againe, in regard that manie of
the wounded perſons were his worthy friends, and liberall bountie was
there to be expected, which made him preſently go aboord a ſmal Barke,
and forthwith ſet away towards Malfy.
This abſence of Maſter Doctor Mazzeo, gaue opportunity to aduenturous
Ruggiero, to viſite his houſe (he being gone) in hope to get more
Crownes, and courteſie from the Miſtreſſe, vnder formall colour of
courting the Maide. And being cloſely admitted into the houſe, when
diuers Neighbours were in conference with her Miſtreſſe, and helde her
with ſuch pleaſing Diſcourſe, as required longer time then was expected:
the Maide, had no other roome to conceale Ruggiero in, but onely the
bed chamber of her Maſter, where ſhe lockt him in; becauſe none of the
houſhold people ſhould deſcry him, and ſtayed attending on her Miſtris,
till all the Gueſts tooke their leaue, and were gone. Ruggiero thus remayning
alone in the Chamber, for the ſpace of three long houres and more,
was viſited neither by Maide nor Miſtris, but awaited when he ſhould bee
ſet at liberty.
Now, whether feeding on ſalt meats before his coming thither, or cuſtomary
vſe of drinking, which maketh men vnable any long while to abſtain,
as being neuer ſatisfied with exceſſe; which of theſe two extreams
they were, I know not: but drink needs hee muſt. And, hauing no other
meanes for quenching his thirſt, eſpied the glaſſe of water ſtanding in the
Window, and thinking it to be ſome ſoueraigne kinde of water, reſerued
by the Doctor for his owne drinking, to make him luſty in his old years,
he tooke the glaſſe; and finding the Water pleaſing to his pallate, dranke
it off euery drop; then ſitting downe on a Coffer by the beds ſide, ſoone
after hee fell into a ſound ſleepe, according to the powerfull working of
the water.
No ſooner were all the Neighbours gone, and the Maide at libertie
from her Miſtreſſe, but vnlocking the doore, into the chamber ſhe went;
and finding Ruggiero ſitting faſt aſleepe, ſhe began to hunch and punche
him, entreating him (ſoftly) to awake: but all was to no purpoſe, for hee
neither mooued, or anſwered one word, whereat her patience being ſom
what prouoked, ſhe punched him more rudely, and angerly ſaid: Awake
for ſhame thou drowſie dullard, and if thou be ſo deſirous of ſleeping, get
thee home to thine owne lodging, becauſe thou art not allowed to ſleep
heere. Ruggiero being thus rudely punched, fell from off the Coffer flat
on the ground, appearing no other in all reſpects, then as if hee were a
dead body. Whereat the Maide being fearfully amazed, plucking him
by the noſe and yong beard, and what elſe ſhe could deuiſe to do, yet all
her labour prouing ſtill in vaine: ſhe was almoſt beſide her wits, ſtamping
and rauing all about the roome, as if ſence and reaſon had forſaken her;
ſo violent was her extreame diſtraction.
Vpon the hearing of this noiſe, her Miſtris came ſodainely into the
Chamber, where being affrighted at ſo ſtrange an accident, and ſuſpecting
that Ruggiero was dead indeed: ſhe pinched him ſtrongly, and burnt
his fingers with a candle, yet all was as fruitleſſe as before. Then ſitting
downe, ſhe began to conſider aduiſedly with her ſelfe, how much her honour
and reputation would be endangered heereby, both with her Huſband,
and in vulgar opinion when this ſhould come to publique notice.
For (quoth ſhe to her Maide) it is not thy fond loue to this vnruly fellow
that can ſway the cenſure of the monſter multitude, in beleeuing his acceſſe
hither onely to thee: but my good name, and honeſt repute, as yet
vntoucht with the very leaſt taxation, will be rackt on the tenter of infamous
iudgement, and (though neuer ſo cleare) branded with generall
condemnation. It is wiſedome therefore, that we ſhould make no noiſe
but (in ſilence) conſider with our ſelues, how to cleare the houſe of this
dead body, by ſome ſuch helpfull and witty deuice, as when it ſhall bee
found in the morning, his being heere may paſſe without ſuſpition, and
the worlds raſh opinion no way touch vs.
Weeping and lamenting is now laid aſide, and all hope in them of his
liues reſtoring: onely to rid his body out of the houſe, that now requires
their care and cunning, whereupon the Maide thus beganne. Miſtreſſe
(quoth ſhe) this euening, although it was very late, at our next Neighbours
doore (who you know is a Ioyner by his trade) I ſaw a great Cheſt
ſtand; and, as it ſeemeth, for a publike ſale, becauſe two or three nightes
together, it hath not bene thence remooued: and if the owner haue not
lockt it, all inuention elſe cannot furniſh vs with the like help. For therein
will we lay his body, whereon I will beſtow two or three wounds with
my Knife, and leauing him ſo, our houſe can be no more ſuſpected concerning
his being heere, then any other in the ſtreete beſide; nay rather
farre leſſe, in regard of your husbands credit and authority. Moreouer,
heereof I am certaine, that he being of ſuch bad and diſordered qualities:
it will the more likely be imagined, that he was ſlaine by ſome of his own
looſe companions, being with them about ſome pilfering buſines, and afterward
hid his body in the cheſt, it ſtanding ſo fitly for the purpoſe, and
darke night alſo fauouring the deed.
The Maids counſell paſt vnder the ſeale of allowance, only her Miſtris
thought it not conuenient, that (hauing affected him ſo deerely) ſhee
ſhould mangle his body with any wounds; but rather to let it be gathered
by more likely-hood, that villaines had ſtrangled him, and then conueied
his body into the Cheſt. Away ſhe ſends the Maide, to ſee whether the
Cheſt ſtood there ſtill, or no; as indeede it did, and vnlockt, wherof they
were not a little ioyfull. By the helpe of her Miſtreſſe, the Maide tooke
Ruggiero vpon her ſhoulders, and bringing him to the doore, with dillidilegent
reſpect that no one could diſcouer them; in the Cheſt they laide
him, and ſo there left him, cloſing downe the lidde according as they
found it.
In the ſame ſtreet, and not farre from the Ioyner, dwelt two yong men
who were Lombards, liuing vppon the intereſt of their moneyes, coueting
to get much, and ſpend little. They hauing obſerued where the cheſt
ſtood, and wanting a neceſſary mooueable to houſhold, yet loath to lay
out mony for buying it: complotted together this very night, to ſteale it
thence, and carry it home to their houſe, as accordingly they did; finding
it ſomewhat heauy, and therefore imagining, that matter of woorth was
contained therein. In the chamber where their wiues lay, they left it; and
ſo without any further ſearch till the next morning, they laid them down
to reſt likewiſe.
Ruggiero, who had now ſlept a long while, the drinke being digeſted, &
the vertue thereof fully conſummated; began to awake before day. And
although his naturall ſleep was broken, and his ſences had recouerd their
former power, yet notwithſtanding, there remained ſuch an aſtoniſhment
in his braine, as not onely did afflict him all the day following, but
alſo diuers dayes and nights afterward. Hauing his eies wide open, & yet
not diſcerning any thing, he ſtretched forth his armes euery where about
him, and finding himſelfe to be encloſed in the cheſt, he grew more broad
awake, and ſaid to himſelfe. What is this? Where am I? Do I wake or
ſleepe? Full well I remember, that not long ſince I was in my ſweet-hearts
Chamber, and now (me thinkes) I am mewed vp in a cheſt. What ſhold
I thinke heereof? Is maſter Doctor returned home, or hathſome other
inconuenience hapned, whereby finding me aſleepe, ſhe was enforced to
hide me thus? Surely it is ſo, and otherwiſe it cannot bee: wherefore, it
is beſt for mee to lye ſtill, and liſten when I can heare any talking in the
Chamber.
Continuing thus a longer while then otherwiſe hee would haue done,
becauſe his lying in the bare Cheſt was ſomwhat vneaſie and painfull to
him; turning diuers times on the one ſide, and then as often again on the
other, coueting ſtill for eaſe, yet could not find any: at length, he thruſt his
backe ſo ſtrongly againſt the Cheſts ſide, that (it ſtanding on an vn-euen
ground) it began to totter, and after fell downe. In which fall, it made ſo
loud a noiſe, as the women (lying in the beds ſtanding by) awaked, and
were ſo ouercome with feare, that they had not the power to ſpeake one
word. Ruggiero alſo being affrighted with the Cheſts fall, and perceiuing
how by that meanes it was become open: he thought it better, leaſt ſome
other ſiniſter fortune ſhould befall him, to be at open liberty, then incloſed
vp ſo ſtrictly. And becauſe he knew not where he was, as alſo hoping
to meet with his Miſtreſſe; he went all about groping in the dark, to finde
either ſome ſtaires or doore, whereby to get forth.
When the Women (being then awake) heard his trampling, as alſo
his iuſtling againſt the doores and Windowes; they demaunded,
Who was there? Ruggiero, not knowing their voyces, made them no
anſwer, wherefore they called to their husbands, who lay verie ſoundly
ſleeping by them, by reaſon of their ſo late walking abroad, and therefore
heard not this noiſe in the houſe. This made the Women much more timorous,
and therefore riſing out of their beddes, they opened the Caſements
towards the ſtreete, crying out aloude, Theeues, Theeues. The
neighbours aroſe vpon this outcry, running vp and downe from place to
place, from engirting the houſe, and others entering into it: by means of
which troubleſome noiſe, the two Lombards awaked, and ſeizing there
vppon poore Ruggiero, (who was well-neere affrighted out of his wittes,
at ſo ſtrange an accident, and his owne ignorance, how he happened thither,
and how to eſcape from them) he ſtood gazing on them without any
anſwer.
By this time, the Sergeants and other Officers of the City, ordinarily
attending on the Magiſtrate, beeing raiſed by the tumult of this vproare,
were come into the houſe, and had poore Ruggiero committed vnto their
charge: who bringing him before the Gouernor, was forthwith called in
queſtion, and known to be of a moſt wicked life, a ſhame to al his friends
and kindred. He could ſay little for himſelfe, neuer denying his taking in
the houſe, and therefore deſiring to finiſh all his fortunes together, deſperately
confeſſed, that he came with a fellonious intent to rob them, and
the Gouernor gaue him ſentence to be hanged.
Soone were the newes ſpread throughout Salerne; that Ruggiero was
apprehended, about robbing the houſe of the two vſuring Lombardes:
which when Miſtreſſe Doctor and her Chamber-maide heard, they were
confounded with moſt ſtraunge admiration, and ſcarſely credited what
they themſelues had done the night before, but rather imagined all matters
paſt, to be no more then meerely a dreame, concerning Ruggieroes
dying in the houſe, and their putting him into the Cheſt, ſo that by no
likely or poſsible meanes, hee could bee the man in this perillous extreamitie.
In a ſhort while after, Maſter Doctor Mazzco was returned from Malfy,
to proceede in his cure of the poore mans legge; and calling for his
glaſſe of Water, which he left ſtanding in his owne Chamber window,
it was found quite empty, and not a drop in it: whereat hee raged ſo extreamly,
as neuer had the like impatience beene noted in him. His wife,
and her Maide, who had another kinde of buſineſſe in their braine, about
a dead man ſo ſtrangely come to life againe, knewe not well what to ſay;
but at the laſt, his Wife thus replyed ſomewhat angerly. Sir (quoth ſhe)
what a coyle is heere about a paltry glaſſe of Water, which perhaps hath
bene ſpilt, yet neyther of vs faulty therein? Is there no more ſuch water to
be had in the world? Alas deere Wife (ſaide hee) you might repute it to
be a common kinde of Water, but indeede it was not ſo; for I did purpoſely
compound it, onely to procure a dead-ſeeming ſleepe: And ſo
related the whole matter at large, of the Pacients legge, and his Waters
loſſe.
When ſhe had heard theſe words of her husband, preſently ſhe conceiued,
that the water was drunke off by Ruggiero, which had ſo ſleepily
entranced his ſences, as they verily thought him to bee dead, wherefore
ſhe ſaide. Beleeue me Sir, you neuer acquainted vs with any ſuch matter,
which would haue procured more carefull reſpect of it: but ſeeing
it is gon, your skill extendeth to make more, for now there is no other
remedy. While thus Maſter Doctor and his Wife were conferring together,
the Maide went ſpeedily into the Citie, to vnderſtand truly, whither
the condemned man was Ruggiero, and what would now become of
him. Beeing returned home againe, and alone with her Miſtreſſe in the
Chamber, thus ſhe ſpake. Now truſt me Miſtreſſe, not one in the Citie
ſpeaketh well of Ruggiero, who is the man condemned to dye; and, for
ought I can perceiue, he hath neither Kinſman nor Friend that wil doe any
thing for him; but he is left with the Prouoſt, and muſt be executed to
morrow morning. Moreouer Miſtreſſe, by ſuch inſtructions as I haue
receiued, I can well-neere informe you, by what meanes hee came to the
two Lombards houſe, if all be true that I haue heard.
You know the loyner before whoſe doore the Cheſt ſtoode, wherein
we did put Ruggiero; there is now a contention betweene him and another
man, to whom (it ſeemeth) the Cheſt doth belong; in regard wherof,
they are readie to quarrell extremly each with other. For the one owing
the Cheſt, and truſting the Ioyner to ſell it for him, would haue him
to pay him for the Cheſt. The Ioyner denieth any ſale thereof, auouching,
that the laſt night it was ſtolne from his doore. Which the other
man contrarying, maintaineth that he ſolde the Cheſt to the two Lombard
vſurers, as himſelf is able to affirme, becauſe he found it in the houſe,
when he (being preſent at the apprehenſion of Ruggiero) ſawe it there in
the ſame houſe. Heereupon, the Ioyner gaue him the lye, becauſe he neuer
ſold it to any man; but if it were there, they had robd him of it, as hee
would make it manifeſt to their faces. Then falling into calmer ſpeeches
they went together to the Lombardes houſe, euen as I returned home.
Wherefore Miſtreſſe, as you may eaſily perceiue, Ruggiero was (queſtionleſſe)
carried thither in the cheſt, and ſo there found; but how he reuiued
againe, I cannot comprehend.
The Miſtreſſe vnderſtanding now apparantly, the full effect of the
whole buſineſſe, and in what manner it had bene carried, reuealed to the
maide her husbands ſpeeches, concerning the glaſſe of ſleepie Water,
which was the onely engine of all this trouble, clearly acquitting Ruggiero
of the robbery, howſoeuer (in deſperate fury, and to make an end of a
life ſo contemptible) he had wrongfully accuſed himſelfe. And notwithſtanding
this his hard fortune, which hath made him much more infamous
then before, in all the diſſolute behauiour of his life: yet it coulde
not quaile her affection towards him; but being loath he ſhould dye for
ſome other mans offence, and hoping his future reformation; ſhe fell on
her knees before her miſtreſſe, and (drowned in her teares) moſt earneſtly
entreated her, to aduiſe her with ſome ſuch happy courſe, as might bee
the ſafety of poore Ruggieroes life. Miſtreſſe Doctor, affecting her maide
dearely, and plainly perceiuing, that no diſaſtrous fortune whatſoeuer,
could alter her loue to condemned Ruggiero; hoping the beſt heereafter,
as the Maide her ſelfe did, and willing to ſaue life rather then ſuffer it to
be loſt without iuſt cauſe, ſhe directed her in ſuch diſcreet maner, as you
will better conceyue by the ſucceſſe.
According as ſhe was inſtructed by hir Miſtris, ſhee fell at the feete of
Maſter Doctor, deſiring him to pardon a great error, whereby ſhee had
ouer-much offended him. As how? ſaid Maſter Doctor. In this manner
(quoth the Maid) and thus proceeded. You are not ignorant Sir, what a
le
•
d liuer Ruggiero de Ieroly is, and notwithſtanding all his imperfections,
how dearely I loue him, as hee proteſteth the like to me, and thus hath
our loue continued a yeare, and more. You beeing gone to Malfy, and
your abſe
••
granting me apt opportunity, for conference with ſo kinde
a friend; I made the bolder, and gaue him entrance into your houſe, yea
euen into mine owne Chamber, yet free from any abuſe, neyther did hee
(bad though he be) offer any. Thirſty he was before his coming thether,
either by ſalt meats, or diſtempered diet, and I being vnable to fetch him
wine or water, by reaſon my Miſtreſſe ſate in the Hall, ſeriouſlie talking
with her Siſters; remembred, that I ſaw a viall of Water ſtanding in your
Chamber Windowe, which hee drinking quite off, I ſet it emptie in the
place againe. I haue heard your diſcontentment for the ſaid Water, and
confeſſe my fault to you therein: but who liueth ſo iuſtly, without offending
at one time or other? And I am heartily ſory for my tranſgreſſion;
yet not ſo much for the water, as the hard fortune that hath followd theron;
becauſe thereby Ruggiero is in danger to loſe his life, and all my hopes
are vtterly loſt. Let me entreat you therefore (gentle Maſter) firſt to pardon
me, and then to grant me permiſſion, to ſuccour my poore condemned
friend, by all the beſt meanes I can deuiſe.
When the Doctor had heard all her diſcourſe, angry though he were,
yet thus he anſwered with a ſmile. Much better had it bin, if thy follies
puniſhment had falne on thy ſelfe, that it might haue paide thee with deſerued
repentance, vpon thy Miſtreſſes finding thee ſleeping. But go and
get his deliuerance if thou canſt, with this caution, that if euer heereafter
he be ſeene in my houſe, the peril thereof ſhall light on thy ſelfe. Receyuing
this anſwer, for her firſt entrance into the attempt, and as her Miſtris
had aduiſed her, in all haſt ſhee went to the priſon, where ſhee preuailed
ſo well with the Iaylor, that hee granted her priuate conference
with Ruggiero. She hauing inſtructed him what he ſhould ſay to the Prouoſt,
if he had any purpoſe to eſcape with life; went thither before him to
the Prouoſt, who admitting her into his preſence, and knowing that ſhee
was Maſter Doctors maid, a man eſpecially reſpected of all the Citie, he
was the more willing to heare her meſſage, he imagining that ſhee was
ſent by her Maſter.
Sir (quoth ſhee) you haue apprehended Ruggiero de Ieroly, as a theefe,
and iudgement of death is (as I heare) pronounced againſt him: but hee
is wrongfully accuſed, and is clearly innocent of ſuch a heinous detection.
So entering into the Hiſtory, ſhe declared euery circumſtance, from the
originall to the end: relating truly, that being her Louer, ſhee brought
him into her Maſters houſe, where he dranke the compounded ſleepy water,
and reputed for dead, ſhe laide him in the Cheſt. Afterward, ſhe rehearſed
the ſpeeches betweene the Ioyner, and him that laide claime to
the Cheſt, giuing him to vnderſtand thereby, how Ruggiero was taken in
the Lombards houſe.
The Prouoſt preſently gathering, that the truth in this caſe was eaſy to
be knowne; ſent firſt for Maſter Doctor Mazzeo, to know, whether hee
compounded any ſuch water, or no: which he affirmed to bee true, and
vpon what occaſion he prepared it. Then the Ioyner, the owner of the
Cheſt, and the two Lombards, being ſeuerally queſtioned withall: it appeared
euidently, that the Lombards did ſteale the cheſt in
〈◊〉
night ſeaſon,
and carried it home to their owne houſe. In the end, Ruggiero being
brought from the priſon, and demanded, where hee was lodged the night
before, made anſwer, that he knew not where. Only he well remembred,
that bearing affection to the Chamber-maide of Maſter Doctor Mazzea
della Montagna, ſhe brought him into a Chamber, where a violl of water
ſtoode in the Window, and he being extreamly thirſty, dranke it off all.
But what became of him afterward (till being awake, hee found himſelfe
encloſed in a Cheſt, and in the houſe of the two Lombards) he could not
ſay any thing.
When the Prouoſt had heard all their anſwers, which he cauſed them
to repeate ouer diuers times, in regard they were very pleaſing to him: he
cleared Ruggiero from the crime impoſed on him, and condemned the
Lombards in three hundred Ducates, to bee giuen to Ruggiero in way of
an amends, and to enable his marriage with the Doctors Mayde, whoſe
conſtancie was much commended, and wrought ſuch a miracle on penitent
Ruggiero; that, after his marriage, which was graced with great and
honourable pompe, he regained the intimate loue of all his kindred, and
liued in moſt Noble condition, euen as if he had neuer beene the diſordered
man.
If the former Nouels had made all the Ladies ſad and ſighe, this laſt
of Dioneus as much delighted them, as reſtoring them to their former iocond
humor, and baniſhing Tragicall diſcourſe for euer. The King perceyuing
that the Sun was neere ſetting, and his gouernment as neere ending,
with many kinde and courteous ſpeeches, excuſed himſelfe to the
Ladies, for being the motiue of ſuch an argument, as expreſſed the infelicity
of poore Louers. And hauing finiſhed his excuſe, vp he aroſe, taking
the Crowne of Lawrell from off his owne head, the Ladies awaiting
on whoſe head he pleaſed next to ſet it, which proued to be the gracious
Lady Fiammetta, and thus hee ſpake. Heere I place this Crowne on her
head, that knoweth better then any other, how to comfort this fayre aſſembly
to morrow, for the ſorow which they haue this day endured.
Madame Fiammetta, whoſe lockes of haire were curled, long, and like
golden wiers, hanging ſomwhat downe ouer her white & delicate ſhoulders
her viſage round, wherein the Damaske Roſe and Lilly contende
•
for priority, the eyes in her head, reſembling thoſe of the Faulcon me,
ſenger, and a dainty mouth; her lippes looking like two little Rubyes
with a commendable ſmile thus ſhe replyed.
Philostratus, gladly I do accept your gift; and to the end that ye may
the better remember your ſelfe, concerning what you haue done hitherto:
I will and commaund, that generall preparation bee made againſt to
morrow, for faire and happy fortunes hapning to Louers, after former
cruell and vnkinde accidents. Which propoſition was very pleaſing to
them all.
Then calling for the Maſter of the Houſholde, and taking order with
him, what was moſt needfull to be done; ſhee gaue leaue vnto the whole
company (who were all riſen) to go recreate themſelues vntil ſupper time.
Some of them walked about the Garden, the beauty whereof baniſhed
the leaſt thought of wearineſſe. Others walked by the Riuer to the Mill,
which was not farre off, and the reſt fel to exerciſes, fitting their own fancies,
vntill they heard the ſummons for Supper. Hard by the goodly
Fountaine (according to their wonted manner) they ſupped altogether,
and were ſerued to their no mean contentment: but being riſen from the
Table, they fell to their delight of ſinging and dancing. While Philomena
led the dance, the Queene ſpake in this manner.
Philostratus, I intend not to varie from thoſe courſes heeretofore obſerued
by my predeceſſors, but euen as they haue already done, ſo it is my
authority, to command a Song. And becauſe I am well aſſured, that you
are not vnfurniſhed of Songs anſwerable to the quality of the paſſed Nouels:
my deſire is, in regard we would not be troubled heereafter, with
any more diſcourſes of vnfortunate Loue, that you ſhall ſing a Song agreeing
with your owne diſpoſition. Philostratus made anſwer, that he
was readie to accompliſh her command, and without all further ceremony,
thus he began.
The Song.
Chorus. My teares do plainly proue,
How iuſtly that poore heart hath cauſe to greeue,
Which (vnder trust) findes Treaſon in his Loue.
WHen firſt I ſaw her, that now makes me ſigh,
Diſtruſt did neuer enter in my thoughts.
So many vertues clearly ſhin'd in her,
That I eſteem'd all martyrdome was light
Which Loue could lay on me. Nor did I greeue,
Although I found my liberty was loſt.
But now mine error I do plainly ſee:
Not without ſorrow, thus betray'd to bee.
My teares do, &c.
For, being left by baſeſt treachery
Of her in whom I moſt repoſed trust:
I then could ſee apparant flatterie
In all the fairest ſhewes that ſhe did make.
But when I ſtroue to get forth of the ſnare,
I found my ſelfe the further plunged in.
For I beheld another in my place,
And I caſt off, with manifeſt diſgrace.
My teares do, &c.
Then felt my heart ſuch hels of heauy woes,
Not vtterable. I curst the day and houre
When firſt I ſaw her louely countenance,
Enricht with beautie, farre beyond all other,
Which ſet my ſoule on fire, enflamde each part,
Making a martyrdome of my poore hart.
My faith and hope being baſely thus betrayde;
I durſt not mooue, to ſpeake I was affrayde.
My teares do, &c.
Thou canst (thou powerfull God of Loue) perceiue,
My ceaſſeleſſe ſorow, voide of any comfort,
I make my moane to thee, and do not fable,
Deſiring, that to end my miſery,
Death may come ſpeedily, and with his Dart
With one fierce ſtroke, quite paſsing through my hart:
To cut off future fell contending ſtrife,
An happy end be made of Loue and Life.
My teares do, &c.
No other meanes of comfort doth remaine,
To eaſe me of ſuch ſharpe afflictions,
But only death. Grant then that I may die,
To finiſh greefe and life in one bleſt houre.
For, being bereft of any future ioyes,
Come, take me quickly from ſo falſe a friend.
Yet in my death, let thy great power approue,
That I died true, and conſtant in my Loue.
My teares, &c.
Happy ſhall I account this ſighing Song,
If ſome (beſide my ſelfe) doe learne to ſing it,
And ſo conſider of my miſeries,
As may incite them to lament my wrongs.
And to be warned by my wretched fate;
Leaſt (like my ſelfe) themſelues do ſigh too late.
Learne Louers learne, what tis to be vniuſt.
And be betrayed where you repoſe beſt truſt.
The words contained in this Song, did manifeſtly declare, what torturing
afflictions poore Philoſtratus felt, and more (perhaps) had beene
perceiued by the lookes of the Lady whom he ſpake of, being then preſent
in the dance; if the ſodaine enſuing darkneſſe had not hid the crimſon
bluſh, which mounted vp into her face. But the Song being ended, &
diuers other beſide, laſting till the houre of reſt drew on; by command of
the Queene, they all repaired to their Chambers.
The End of the Fourth Day.
THE FIFT DAY.
Whereon, all the Diſcourſes do paſſe vnder the Gouernement of the most Noble Lady Fiammetta: Concerning ſuch perſons, as haue bene ſucceſſefull in their Loue, after many hard and perillous misfortunes.
The Induction.
NOW began the Sunne to dart foorth his golden
beames, when Madam Fiammetta (incited by the
ſweete ſinging Birdes, which ſince the breake of
day, ſat merrily chanting on the trees) aroſe from
her bed: as all the other Ladies likewiſe did, and
the three young Gentlemen deſcending downe
into the fields, where they walked in a gentle pace
on the greene graſſe, vntill the Sunne were riſen
a little higher. On many pleaſant matters they
conferred together, as they walked in ſeuerall companies, til at the length
the Queene, finding the heate to enlarge it ſelfe ſtrongly, returned backe
to the Caſtle; where when they were all arriued, ſhee commanded, that
after this mornings walking, their ſtomackes ſhould bee refreſhed with
wholſome Wines, as alſo diuers ſorts of banquetting ſtuffe. Afterward,
they all repaired into the Garden, not departing thence, vntill the houre
of dinner was come: at which time, the Maſter of the houſhold, hauing
prepared euery thing in decent readineſſe, after a ſolemn ſong was ſung,
by order from the Queene, they were ſeated at the Table.
When they had dined, to their owne liking and contentment, they began
(in continuation of their former order) to exerciſe diuers dances, and
afterward voyces to their inſtruments, with many pretty Madrigals and
Roundelayes. Vppon the finiſhing of theſe delights, the Queene gaue
them leaue to take their reſt, when ſuch as were ſo minded, went to ſleep,
others ſolaced themſelues in the Garden. But after midday was ouerpaſt,
they met (according to their wonted manner) and as the Queene had
commanded, at the faire Fountaine; where ſhe being placed in her ſeate
royall, and caſting her eye vpon Pamphilus, ſhee bad him begin the dayes
diſcourſes, of happy ſucceſſe in loue, after diſaſtrous and troubleſom accidents;
who yeelding thereto with humble reuerence, thus began.
Many Nouels (gracious Ladies) do offer themſelues to my memory,
wherewith to beginne ſo pleaſant a day, as it is her Highneſſe deſire that
this ſhould be, among which plenty, I eſteeme one aboue all the reſt: becauſe
you may comprehend thereby, not onely the fortunate concluſion,
wherewith we intend to begin our day; but alſo, how mighty the forces
of Loue are, deſeruing to bee both admired and reuerenced. Albeit
there are many, who ſcarſely knowing what they ſay, do condemne them
with infinite groſſe imputations: which I purpoſe to diſproue, & (I hope)
to your no little pleaſing.
Chynon, by falling in loue, became wiſe, and by force of Armes, winning his faire Lady Iphigenia on the Seas, was afterward impriſoned at Rhodes. Being deliuered by one named Lyſimachus, with him he recouered his Iphigenia againe, and faire Caſſandra, euen in the middest of their mariage. They fled with them into Candye, where after they had married them, they were called home to their owne dwelling.
The firſt Nouell.
Wherein is approued, that Loue (oftentimes) maketh a man both wiſe and valiant.
ACcording to the ancient Annales of the Cypriots, there ſometime liued
in Cyprus, a Noble Gentleman, who was commonly called Ariſtippus,
and exceeded all other of the Countrey in the goods of Fortune.
Diuers children he had, but (amongſt the reſt) a Sonne, in whoſe birth he
was more infortunate then any of the reſt; and continually greeued, in regard,
that hauing all the compleate perfections of beauty, good forme,
and manly parts, ſurpaſſing all other youths of his age or ſtature, yet hee
wanted the reall ornament of the ſoule, reaſon and iudgement; being (indeed
a meere Ideot or Foole, and no better hope to be expected of him.
His true name, according as he receyued it by Baptiſme, was Galeſus, but
becauſe neyther by the laborious paines of his Tutors, indulgence, and
faire endeuour of his parents, or ingenuity of any other, he could bee
brought to ciuility of life, vnderſtanding of Letters, or common cariage
of a reaſonable creature: by his groſſe and deformed kinde of ſpeech, his
qualities alſo ſauouring rather of brutiſh breeding, then any way deriued
from manly education; as an epithite of ſcorne and deriſion, generally,
they gaue him the name of Chynon, which in their natiue Countrey language,
and diuers other beſide, ſignifieth a very Sot or Foole, and ſo was
he termed by euery one.
This loſt kinde of life in him, was no meane burthen of greefe vnto his
Noble Father, and all hope being already ſpent, of any future happy recouery,
he gaue command (becauſe he would not alwayes haue ſuch a ſorrow
in his ſight) that he ſhould liue at a Farme of his owne in a Country
Village, among his Peazants and Plough-Swaines. Which was not any
way diſtaſtefull to Chynon, but well agreed with his owne naturall diſpoſition;
for their rurall qualities, and groſſe behauiour pleaſed him beyond
the Cities ciuility. Chynon liuing thus at his Fathers Countrey Village,
exerciſing nothing elſe but rurall demeanour, ſuch as then delighted him
aboue all other: it chanced vpon a day about the houre of noone, as hee
was walking ouer the fields, with a long Staffe on his necke, which commonly
he vſed to carry; he entred into a ſmall thicket, reputed the goodlieſt
in all thoſe quarters, and by reaſon it was then the month of May, the
Trees had their leaues fairely ſhot forth.
When he had walked thorow the thicket, it came to paſſe, that (euen
as if good Fortune guided him) he came into a faire Meadow, on euerie
ſide engirt with Trees, and in one corner thereof ſtoode a goodly Fountaine,
whoſe current was both coole and cleare. Harde by it, vppon the
greene graſſe, he eſpied a very beautifull yong Damoſell, ſeeming to bee
faſt aſleepe, attired in ſuch fine looſe garments, as hidde verie little of her
white body: onely from the girdle downward, ſhee ware a kirtle made
cloſe vnto her, of interwouen delicate ſilke, and at her feete lay two other
Damoſels ſleeping, and a ſeruant in the ſame manner. No ſooner hadde
Chynon fixed his eie vpon her, but he ſtood leaning vppon his ſtaffe, and
viewed her very aduiſedly, without ſpeaking a word, and in no mean admiration,
as if he had neuer ſeene the forme of a woman before. He began
then to feele in his harſh rurall vnderſtanding (whereinto neuer till now,
either by painfull inſtruction, or all other good meanes vſed to him, any
honeſt ciuility had power of impreſſion) a ſtrange kinde of humour to awake,
which informed his groſſe and dull ſpirite, that this Damoſell was
the very faireſt, which euer any liuing man beheld.
Then he began to diſtinguiſh her parts, commending the treſſes of hir
haire, which he imagined to be of gold; her forehead, noſe, mouth, neck,
armes, but (aboue all) her breſts, appearing (as yet) but onely to ſhewe
thēſelues, like two little mountainets. So that, of a fielden clowniſh lout,
he would needs now become a iudge of beauty, coueting earneſtly in his
ſoule, to ſee her eyes, which were veiled ouer with ſound ſleepe, that kept
them faſt encloſed together, and onely to looke on them, hee wiſhed a
thouſand times, that ſhe would awake. For, in his iudgement, ſhe excelled
all the women that euer he had ſeene, and doubted, whether ſhe were
ſome Goddeſſe or no; ſo ſtrangely was he metamorphoſed from folly, to
a ſenſible apprehenſion, more then common. And ſo far did this ſodaine
knowledge in him extend; that he could conceiue of diuine and celeſtiall
things, and that they were more to be admired & reuerenced, then thoſe
of humane or terrene conſideration; wherefore the more gladly he contented
himſelfe, to tarry til ſhe awaked of her owne accord. And althogh
the time of ſtay ſeemed tedious to him, yet notwithſtanding, he was ouercome
with ſuch extraordinary contentment, as hee had no power to depart
thence, but ſtood as if he had bin glued faſt to the ground.
After ſome indifferent reſpite of time, it chanced that the young Damoſel
(who was named Iphigenia) awaked before any of the other with
her, and lifting vp her head, with her eyes wide open, ſhee ſaw Chynon
ſtanding before her, leaning ſtil on his ſtaffe; whereat meruailing not a
little, ſhe ſaide vnto him: Chynon, whither wandereſt thou, or what doſt
thou ſeeke for in this wood? Chynon, who not onely by his countenance,
but likewiſe his folly, Nobility of birth, and wealthy poſſeſſions of his father,
was generally knowne throughout the Countrey, made no anſwere
at all to the demand of Iphigenia: but ſo ſoone as he beheld her eies open,
he began to obſerue them with a conſtant regard, as being perſwaded in
his ſoule, that from them flowed ſuch an vnvtterable ſingularity, as he had
neuer felt til then. Which the yong Gentlewoman well noting, ſhe began
to wax fearfull, leaſt theſe ſtedfaſt lookes of his, ſhould incite his ruſticity
to ſome attempt, which might redound to her diſhonour: wherefore
awaking her women and ſeruant, and they all being riſen, ſhe ſaide.
Farewell Chynon, I leaue thee to thine owne good Fortune; whereto hee
preſently replyed, ſaying: I will go with you. Now, although the Gentlewoman
refuſed his company, as dreading ſome acte of inciuility from
him: yet could ſhe not deuiſe any way to be rid of him, til he had brought
her to her owne dwelling, where taking leaue mannerly of her, hee went
directly home to his Fathers houſe, ſaying; Nothing ſhould compel him
to liue any longer in the muddy Countrey. And albeit his Father was
much offended heereat, and all the reſt of his kindred and frends: (yet not
knowing how to helpe it) they ſuffered him to continue there ſtill, expecting
the cauſe of this his ſo ſodaine alteration, from the courſe of life,
which contented him ſo highly before.
Chynon being now wounded to the heart (where neuer any ciuil inſtruction
could before get entrance) with loues piercing dart, by the bright
beauty of Iphigenia, mooued much admiration (falling from one change
to another) in his Father, Kindred, and all elſe that knew him. For firſt,
he requeſted of his Father, that he might be habited and reſpected like to
his other Brethren, whereto right gladly he condiſcended. And frequenting
the company of ciuill youths, obſeruing alſo the cariage of Gentlemen,
eſpecially ſuch as were amorouſly enclined: he grew to a beginning
in ſhort time (to the wonder of euery one) not onely to vnderſtande the
firſt inſtruction of letters, but alſo became moſt skilfull, euen amongeſt
them that were beſt exerciſed in Philoſophie. And afterward, loue to Iphigenia
being the ſole occaſion of this happy alteration, not only did his
harſh and clowniſh voyce conuert it ſelfe more mildely, but alſo hee became
a ſingular Muſitian, & could perfectly play on any Inſtrument. Beſide,
he tooke delight in the riding and managing of great horſes, and finding
himſelfe of a ſtrong and able body, he exerciſed all kinds of Military
Diſciplines, as wel by ſea, as on the land. And, to be breefe, becauſe I
would not ſeeme tedious in the repetition of al his vertues, ſcarſly had he
attained to the fourth yeare, after he was thus falne in loue, but hee became
generally knowne, to bee the moſt ciuil, wiſe, and worthy Gentleman,
aſwell for all vertues enriching the minde, as any whatſoeuer to
beautifie the body, that very hardly he could be equalled throughout the
whole kingdome of Cyprus.
What ſhall we ſay then (vertuous Ladies) concerning this Chynon?
Surely nothing elſe, but that thoſe high and diuine vertues, infuſed into
his gentle ſoule, were by enuious Fortune bound and ſhut vppe in ſome
ſmall angle of his intellect, which being ſhaken and ſet at liberty by loue,
(as hauing a farre more potent power then Fortune, in quickning and reuiuing
the dull drowſie ſpirits; declared his mighty and ſoueraigne Authority,
in ſetting free ſo many faire and precious vertues vniuſtly detayned,
to let the worlds eye behold them truly, by manifeſt teſtimony, frō
whence he can deliuer thoſe ſpirits ſubiected to his power, & guide them
(afterward) to the higheſt degrees of honor. And although Chynon by affecting
Iphigenia, failed in ſome particular things; yet notwithſtanding,
his Father Ariſtippus duely conſidering, that loue had made him a man,
whereas (before) he was no better then a beaſt: not only endured all patiently,
but alſo aduiſed him therein, to take ſuch courſes as beſt liked
himſelfe. Neuertheleſſe, Chynon (who refuſed to be called Galeſus, which
was his naturall name indeede) remembring that Iphigenia tearmed him
Chynon, and coueting (vnder that title) to accompliſh the iſſue of his honeſt
amorous deſire: made many motions to Ciphaeus the Father of Iphigenia,
that he would be pleaſed to let him enioy her in marriage. But Ciphaeus
told him, that he had already paſſed his promiſe for her, to a Gentleman
of Rhodes, named Paſimondo, which promiſe he religiouſly intended
to performe.
The time being come, which was concluded on for Iphigeniaes marriage,
in regard that the affianced husband had ſent for her: Chynon thus
communed with his owne thoughts. Now is the time (quoth he) to let
my diuine Miſtreſſe ſee, how truly and honourably I doe affect her, becauſe
(by her) I am become a man. But if I could bee poſſeſſed of her, I
ſhould growe more glorious, then the common condition of a mortall
man, and haue her I will, or looſe my life in the aduenture. Beeing thus
reſolued, he preuailed with diuers young Gentlemen his friends, making
them of his faction, and ſecretly prepared a Shippe, furniſhed with all
things for a Nauall fight, ſetting ſodainly forth to ſea, and hulling abroad
in thoſe parts by which the veſſell ſhould paſſe, that muſt conuey Iphigenia
to Rhodes to her husband. After many honors done to them, who wer
to tranſport her thence vnto Rhodes, being imbarked, they ſet ſaile vppon
their Bon viaggio.
Chynon, who ſlept not in a buſineſſe ſo earneſtly importing him, ſet on
them (the day following) with his Ship, and ſtanding aloft on the decke,
cried out to them that had the charge of Iphigenia, ſaying. Strike your
ſayles, or elſe determine to be ſunke in the Sea. The enemies to Chynon,
being nothing danted with his words, prepared to ſtand vpon their own
defence; which made Chynon, after the former ſpeeches deliuered, and
no anſwer returned, to commaund the grapling Irons to bee caſt forth,
which tooke ſuch faſt hold on the Rhodians ſhippe, that (whether they
would or no) both the veſſels ioyned cloſe together. And hee ſhewing
himſelfe fierce like a Lyon, not tarrying to be ſeconded by any, ſtepped aboord
the Rhodians ſhip, as if he made no reſpect at all of them, and hauing
his ſword ready drawne in his hand (incited by the vertue of vnfaigned
loue) ſayed about him on all ſides very manfully. Which when the
men of Rhodes perceyued, caſting downe their weapons, and all of them
(as it were) with one voice, yeelded themſelues his priſoners: whereupon
he ſaid.
Honeſt Friends, neither deſire of booty, or hatred to you, did occaſion
my departure from Cyprus, thus to aſſaile you with drawne weapons:
but that which heereto hath moſt mooued me, is a matter highly importing
to me, and very eaſie for you to graunt, and ſo enioy your preſent
peace. I deſire to haue faire Iphigenia from you, whom I loue aboue all other
Ladies liuing, becauſe I could not obtain herof her Father, to make
her my lawfull wife in marriage. Loue is the ground of my inſtant Conqueſt,
and I muſt vſe you as my mortall enemies, if you ſtand vppon any
further tearmes with me, and do not deliuer her as mine owne: for your
Paſimondo, muſt not enioy what is my right, firſt by vertue of my loue, &
now by conqueſt: Deliuer her therefore, and depart hence at your pleaſure.
The men of Rhodes, being rather conſtrained thereto, then of any free
diſpoſition in themſelues; with teares in their eyes, deliuered Iphigenia to
Chynon; wo beholding her in like manner to weepe, thus ſpake vnto her.
Noble Lady, do not any way diſcomfort your ſelfe, for I am your Chynon,
who haue more right and true title to you, and much better doe deſerue
to enioy you, by my long continued affection to you, then Paſimondo
can any way pleade; becauſe you belong to him but only by promiſe.
So, bringing her aboord his owne ſhip, where the Gentlemen his companions
gaue her kinde welcome, without touching any thing elſe belonging
to the Rhodians, he gaue them free liberty to depart.
Chynon being more ioyfull, by the obtaining of his hearts deſire, then
any other conqueſt elſe in the world could make him, after hee had ſpent
ſome time in comforting Iphigenia, who as yet ſate ſadly ſighing; he conſulted
with his companions, who ioyned with him in opinion, that their
ſafeſt courſe was, by no meanes to returne to Cyprus; and therefore all
(with one conſent) reſolued to ſet ſaile for Candye, where euery one made
account, but eſpecially Chynon, in regard of ancient and newe combined
Kindred, as alſo very intimate friends, to finde very worthy entertainement,
and ſo to continue there ſafely with Iphigenia. But Fortune, who
was ſo fauourable to Chynon, in granting him ſo pleaſing a Conqueſt, to
ſhew her inconſtancy, as ſodainly changed the ineſtimable ioy of our iocond
Louer, into as heauy ſorow and diſaſter. For, foure houres were
not fully compleated, ſince his departure from the Rhodians, but darke
night came vpon them, and he ſitting conuerſing with his fayre Miſtris,
in the ſweeteſt ſolace of his ſoule; the winds began to blow roughly, the
Seas ſwelled angerly, & a tempeſt aroſe impetuouſly, that no man could
ſee what his duty was to do, in ſuch a great vnexpected diſtreſſe, nor how
to warrant themſelues from periſhing.
If this accident were diſpleaſing to poore Chynon, I thinke the queſtion
were in vaine demanded: for now it ſeemed to him, that the Godds had
granted his cheefe deſire, to the end hee ſhould dye with the greater anguiſh,
in loſing both his loue and life together. His friends likewiſe, felte
the ſelfe ſame affliction, but eſpecially Iphigenia, who wept and greeued
beyond all meaſure, to ſee the ſhip beaten with ſuch ſtormy billowes, as
threatned her ſinking euery minute. Impatiently ſhe curſed the loue of
Chynon, greatly blaming his deſperate boldneſſe, and maintaining, that ſo
violent a tempeſt could neuer happen, but onely by the Gods diſpleaſure,
who would not permit him to haue a wife againſt their will; and therfore
thus puniſhed his proud preſumption, not only in his vnauoidable death,
but alſo that her life muſt periſh for company.
She continuing in theſe wofull lamentations, and the Mariners labouring
all in vaine, becauſe the violence of the tempeſt encreaſed more and
more, ſo that euery moment they expected wracking: they were carried
(contrary to their owne knowledge) very neere vnto the Iſle of Rhodes,
which they being no way able to auoid, and vtterly ignorant of the coaſt;
for ſafety of their liues, they labored to land there if poſſibly they might.
Wherein Fortune was ſomewhat furtherous to them, driuing them into
a ſmall gulfe of the Sea, whereinto (but a little while before) the Rhodians,
from whom Chynon had taken Iphigenia, were newly entred with their
ſhip. Nor had they any knowledge each of other, till the breake of day
(which made the heauens to looke more clearly) gaue them diſcouerie,
of being within a flight ſhoote together. Chynon looking forth, and eſpying
the ſame ſhip which he had left the day before, hee grew exceeding
ſorowfull, as fearing that which after followed, and therefore hee willed
the Mariners, to get away from her by all their beſt endeauour, & let fortune
afterward diſpoſe of them as ſhe pleaſed; for into a worſe place they
could not come, no
•
fall into the like danger.
The Mariners employed their very vtmoſt paines, and all prooued but
loſſe of time: for the winde was ſo ſtern, and the waues ſo turbulent, that
ſtill they droue them the contrary way: ſo that ſtriuing to get foorth of
the gulfe, whether they would or no, they were driuen on land, and inſtantly
knowne to the Rhodians, whereof they were not a little ioyful. The
men of Rhodes being landed, ran preſently to a neere neighbouring Village,
where dwelt diuers worthy Gentlemen, to whom they reported the
arriuall of Chynon, what fortune befell them at Sea, and that Iphigenia
might now be recouered againe, with chaſtiſement to Chynon for his bold
inſolence. They being very ioyfull of theſe good newes, tooke ſo many
men as they could of the ſame Village, and ran immediately to the Sea
ſide, where Chynon being newly Landed and his people, intending flight
into a neere adioyning Forreſt, for defence of himſelfe and Iphigenia, they
were all taken, led thence to the Village, and afterwards to the chiefe City
of Rhodes.
No ſooner were they arriued, but Paſimondo, the intended Husband
for Iphigenia (who had already heard the tydings) went and complayned
to the Senate, who appointed a Gentleman of Rhodes, named Lyſimachus,
and being that yeare ſoueraigne Magiſtrate ouer the Rhodians, to go well
prouided for the apprehenſion of Chynon and all his company, committing
them to priſon, which accordingly was done. In this manner, the
poore vnfortunate louer Chynon, loſt his faire Iphigenia, hauing won her
in ſo ſhort a while before, and ſcarſely requited with ſo much as a kiſſe.
But as for Iphigenia, ſhe was royally welcommed by many Lords and Ladies
of Rhodes, who ſo kindely comforted her, that ſhe ſoone forgotte all
her greefe and trouble on the Sea, remaining in company of thoſe Ladies
and Gentlewomen, vntill the day determined for her mariage.
At the earneſt entreary of diuers Rhodian Gentlemen, who were in
the Ship with Iphigenia, and had their liues courteouſly ſaued by Chynon:
both he and his friends had their liues likewiſe ſpared, although Paſimondo
laboured importunately, to haue them all put to death; onely they
were condemned to perpetuall impriſonment, which (you muſt thinke)
was moſt greeuous to them, as being now hopeleſſe of any deliuerance.
But in the meane time, while Paſimondo was ordering his nuptiall preparation,
Fortune ſeeming to repent the wrongs ſhee had done to Chynon,
prepared a new accident, whereby to comfort him in this deep diſtreſſe,
and in ſuch manner as I will relate vnto you.
Paſimondo had a Brother, yonger then he in yeares, but not a iot inferiour
to him in vertue, whoſe name was Hormiſda, and long time the caſe
had bene in queſtion, for his taking to wife a faire yong Gentlewoman of
Rhodes, called Caſſandra; whom Lyſimachus the Gouernour loued verie
dearly, and hindred her marriage with Hormiſda, by diuers ſtrange accidents.
Now Paſimondo perceiuing, that his owne Nuptials required much
coſt and ſolemnity, hee thought it very conuenient, that one day might
ſerue for both the Weddinges, which elſe would lanch into more lauiſh
expences, and therefore concluded, that his brother Hormiſda ſhould
marry Caſſandra, at the ſame time as he wedded Iphigenia. Heereuppon,
he conſulted with the Gentlewomans parents, who liking the motion as
well as he, the determination was ſet downe, and one day to effect the
duties of both.
When this came to the hearing of Lyſimachus, it was very greatly diſpleaſing
to him, becauſe now he ſaw himſelfe vtterly depriued of al hope
to attaine the iſſue of his deſire, if Hormiſda receyued Caſſandra in marriage.
Yet being a very wiſe and worthy man, hee diſſembled his diſtaſte,
and began to conſider on ſome apt meanes, whereby to diſappoint the
marriage once more, which he found impoſſible to bee done, except it
were by way of rape or ſtealth. And that did not appear to him any difficult
matter, in regard of his Office and Authority: onely it wold ſeeme
diſhoneſt in him, by giuing ſuch an vnfitting example. Neuertheleſſe, after
long deliberation, honor gaue way to loue, and reſolutely he concluded
to ſteale her away, whatſoeuer became of it.
Nothing wanted now, but a conuenient company to aſſiſt him, & the
order how to haue it done. Then he remembred Chynon and his friends,
whom he detained as his priſoners, and perſwaded himſelf, that he could
not haue a more faithfull friend in ſuch a buſines, then Chynon was. Hereupon,
the night following, he ſent for him into his Chamber, and being
alone by themſelues, thus he began. Chynon (quoth hee) as the Gods are
very bountifull, in beſtowing their bleſſings on men, ſo doe they therein
moſt wiſely make proofe of their vertues, and ſuch as they finde firme and
conſtant, in all occurrences which may happen, them they make worthy
(as valiant ſpirits) of the very beſt and higheſt merites. Now, they being
willing to haue more certain experience of thy vertues, then thoſe which
heeretofore thou haſt ſhewne, within the bounds and limits of thy fathers
poſſeſſions, which I know to be ſuperabounding: perhaps do intend to
preſent thee other occaſions, of more important weight and conſequence.
For firſt of all (as I haue heard) by the piercing ſolicitudes of loue, of a
ſenſeleſſe creature, they made thee to become a man endued with reaſon.
Afterward, by aduerſe fortune, and now againe by weariſome impriſonment,
it ſeemeth that they are deſirous to make triall, whether thy manly
courage be changed, or no, from that which heretofore it was, when thou
enioyedſt a matchleſſe beautie, and loſt her againe in ſo ſhort a while.
Wherefore, if thy vertue be ſuch as it hath bin, the Gods can neuer giue
thee any bleſſing more worthy of acceptance, then ſhe whō they are now
minded to beſtow on thee: in which reſpect, to the end that thou mayſt
re-aſſume thy wonted heroicke ſpirit, and become more couragious then
euer heeretofore, I will acquaint thee withall more at large.
Vnderſtand then Noble Chynon, that Paſimondo, the onely glad man
of thy misfortune, and diligent ſutor after thy death, maketh all haſt hee
can poſſibly deu
•
ſe to do, to celebrate his marriage with thy faire miſtris:
becauſe he would pleade poſſeſſion of the prey, which Fortune (when ſhe
ſmiled) did firſt beſtow, and (afterward frowning) took from thee again.
Now, that it muſt needs be very irkeſome to thee (at leaſt if thy loue bee
ſuch, as I am perſwaded it is) I partly can collect from my ſelfe, being intended
to be wronged by his brother Hormiſda, euen in the ſelfſame maner,
and on his marriage day, by taking faire Caſſandra from me, the onely
Iewell of my loue and life. For the preuention of two ſuch notorious
iniuries, I ſee that Fortune hath left vs no other meanes, but only the vertue
of our courages, and the helpe of our right hands, by preparing our
ſelues to Armes, opening a way to thee, by a ſecond rape or ſtealth; and
to me the firſt, for abſolute poſſeſſion of our diuine Miſtreſſes. Wherefore,
if thou art deſirous to recouer thy loſſe, I wil not onely pronounce
liberty to thee (which I thinke thou doſt little care for without her) but
dare alſo aſſure thee to enioy Iphigenia, ſo thou wilt aſſiſt mee in mine enterprize,
and follow me in my fortune, if the Gods do let them fall into
our power.
You may well imagine, that Chynons diſmayed ſoule was not a little
cheared at theſe ſpeeches; and therefore, without crauing any long reſpit
of time for anſwer, thus he replyed. Lord Lyſimachus, in ſuch a buſines
as this is, you cannot haue a faſter friend then my ſelf at leaſt, if ſuch good
hap may betide me, as you haue more then halfe promiſed: & therefore
do no more but command what you would haue to be effected by mee,
and make no doubt of my courage in the execution: whereon Lyſimachus
made this anſwer. Know then Chynon (quoth hee) that three dayes
hence; theſe marriages are to bee celebrated in the houſes of Paſimondo
and Hormiſda, vpon which day, thou, thy friends, and my ſelf (with ſome
others, in whom I repoſe eſpeciall truſt) by the friendly fauour of night,
will enter into their houſes, while they are in the middeſt of theyr Iouiall
feaſting; and (ſeizing on the two Brides) beare them thence to a Shippe,
which I will haue lye in ſecret, waiting for our comming, and kil all ſuch
as ſhall preſume to impeach vs. This direction gaue great contentment
to Chynon, who remained ſtil in priſon, without reuealing a word to his
owne friends, vntil the limited time was come.
Vpon the Wedding day, performed with great and magnificent Triumph,
there was not a corner in the Brethrens houſes, but it ſung ioy in
the higheſt key. Lyſimachus, after he had ordered all things as they ought
to be, and the houre for diſpatch approached neere; he made a diuiſion
in three parts, of Chynon, his followers, and his owne friendes, being all
well armed vnder their outward habites. Hauing firſt vſed ſome encouraging
ſpeeches, for more reſolute proſecution of the enterprize, he ſent
one troope ſecretly to the Port, that they might not be hindred of going
aboord the ſhip, when the vrgent neceſſity ſhould require it. Paſſing
with the other two traines of Paſimondo, he left the one at the doore, that
ſuch as were in the houſe might not ſhut them vp faſt, and ſo impeach
their paſſage forth. Then with Chynon, and the third band of Confederates,
he aſcended the ſtaires vp into the Hall, where he found the Brides
with ſtore of Ladies and Gentlewomen, all ſitting in comely order at
Supper. Ruſhing in roughly among the attendants, downe they threw
the Tables, and each of them laying hold of his Miſtris, deliuered them
into the hands of their followers, commanding that they ſhould be carried
aboord the ſhip, for auoiding of further inconueniences.
This hurrie and amazement beeing in the houſe, the Brides weeping,
the Ladies lamenting, and all the ſeruants confuſedly wondering; Chynon
and Lyſimachus (with their Friends) hauing their weapons drawn in their
hands, made all oppoſers to giue them way, and ſo gayned the ſtair head
for their owne deſcending. There ſtoode Paſimondo, with an huge long
Staffe in his hand, to hinder their paſſage downe the ſtayres; but Chynon
ſaluted him ſo ſoundly on the head, that it being cleft in twaine, hee
fell dead before his feete. His Brother Hormiſda came to his reſcue, and
ſped in the ſelfe-ſame manner as he had done; ſo did diuers other beſide,
whom the companions to Lyſimachus and Chynon, either ſlew out-right,
or wounded.
So they left the houſe, filled with bloode, teares, and out-cries, going
on together, without any hinderance, and ſo brought both the Brides
aboord the ſhippe, which they rowed away inſtantly with theyr Oares.
For, now the ſhore was full of armed people, who came in reſcue of the
ſtolne Ladies: but all in vaine, becauſe they were lanched into the main,
and ſayled on merrily towardes Candye. Where beeing arriued, they
were worthily entertained by honourable Friendes and Kinſmen, who
pacified all vnkindneſſes betweene them and their Miſtreſſes: And, hauing
accepted them in lawfull marriage, there they liued in no meane
ioy and contentment: albeit there was a long and troubleſom difference
(about theſe rapes) betweene Rhodes and Cyprus.
But yet in the end, by the meanes of Noble Friends and Kindred on
either ſide, labouring to haue ſuch diſcontentment appeaſed, endangering
warre betweene the Kingdomes: after a limited time of baniſhment,
Chynon returned ioyfully with his Iphigenia home to Cyprus, and Lyſimachus
with his beloued Caſſandra vnto Rhodes, each liuing in their ſeuerall
Countries, with much felicity.
Faire Conſtance of Liparis, fell in loue with Martuccio Gomito: and hearing that he was dead, deſperately ſhe entred into a Barke, which being tranſported by the windes to Suſa in Barbary, from thence ſhe went to Thunis, where ſhe found him to be liuing. There ſhe made her ſelfe knowne to him, and he being in great authority, as a priuy Counſellor to the King: he married the ſaide Conſtance, and returned richly home with her, to the Iſland of Liparis.
The ſecond Nouell.
Wherein is declared the firme loyaltie of a true Louer: And how Fortune doth ſometime humble men, to raiſe them afterward to a farre higher degree.
WHen the Queene perceyued, that the Nouell recited by Pamphilus
was concluded, which ſhe graced with eſpecial commendations:
ſhee commaunded Madame Aemillia, to take her turne as next in order;
whereupon, thus ſhe began. Me thinkes it is a matter of equity, that euery
one ſhould take delight in thoſe things, whereby the recompence may
be noted, anſwerable to their owne affection. And becauſe I rather deſire
to walke along by the paths of pleaſure, then dwell on any ceremonious
or ſcrupulons affectation, I ſhall the more gladly obey our Queen to
day, then yeſterday I did our melancholly King.
Vnderſtand then (Noble Ladies) that neere to Sicily, there is a ſmall
Iſland, commonly called Liparis, wherein (not long ſince) liued a yong
Damoſell, named Conſtance, born of very ſufficient parentage in the ſame
Iſland. There dwelt alſo a young man, called Martuccio Gomito, of comely
feature, well conditioned, and not vnexpert in many vertuous qualities;
affecting Conſtance in hearty manner: and ſhe ſo anſwerable to him
in the ſame kinde, that to be in his company, was her onely felicity. Martuccio
coueting to enioy her in marriage, made his intent knowne to her
Father: who vpbraiding him with pouerty, tolde him plainly that hee
ſhould not haue her. Martuccio greeuing to ſee himſelfe thus deſpiſed,
becauſe he was poore: made ſuch good meanes, that he was prouided of
a ſmall Barke; and calling ſuch friends (as he thought fit) to his aſſociation,
made a ſolemne vow, that hee would neuer returne backe to Liparis,
vntill he was rich, and in better condition.
In the nature and courſe of a Rouer or Pirate, ſo put he thence to ſea,
coaſting all about Barbarie, robbing and ſpoyling ſuch as hee met with;
who were of no greater ſtrength then himſelfe: wherein Fortune was ſo
fauourable to him, that he became wealthy in a very ſhort while. But as
felicities are not alwayes permanent, ſo hee and his followers, not contenting
themſelues with ſufficient riches: by greedy ſeeking to get more,
happened to be taken by certaine ſhips of the Sarazins, and ſo were robbed
themſelues of all that they had gotten, yet they reſiſted them ſtoutly
a long while together, though it proued to the loſſe of many liues among
them. When the Sarazens had ſunke his ſhippe in the Sea, they tooke
him with them to Thunis, where he was impriſoned, and liued in extreameſt
miſery.
Newes came to Liparis, not onely by one, but many more beſide, that
all thoſe which departed thence in the ſmal Barke with Martuccio, were
drowned in the Sea, and not a man eſcaped. When Conſtance heard theſe
vnwelcome tydings (who was exceeding full of greefe, for his ſo deſperate
departure) ſhe wept and lamented extraordinarily, deſiring now rather
to dye, then liue any longer. Yet ſhee had not the heart, to lay any
violent hand on her ſelfe, but rather to end her dayes by ſome new kinde
of neceſſity. And departing priuately from her Fathers houſe, ſhee went
to the port or hauen, where (by chance) ſhe found a ſmall Fiſher-boate,
lying diſtant from the other veſſels, the owners whereof being all gone
on ſhore, and it well furniſhed with Maſts, Sailes, and Oares, ſhe entred
into it; and putting forth the Oares, beeing ſome-what skilfull in ſayling,
(as generally all the Women of that Iſland are) ſhee ſo well guyded the
Sailes, Rudder, and Oares, that ſhe was quickly farre off from the Land,
and ſoly remained at the mercy of the windes. For thus ſhe had reſolued
with her ſelfe, that the Boat being vncharged, and without a guide) wold
either be ouer-whelmed by the windes, or ſplit in peeces againſt ſome
Rocke; by which meanes ſhe could not eſcape although ſhee would, but
(as it was her deſire) muſt needs be drowned.
In this determination, wrapping a mantle about her head, and lying
downe weeping in the boats bottome, ſhe hourely expected her finall expiration:
but it fell out otherwiſe, and contrary to her deſperate intention,
becauſe the winde turning to the North, and blowing very gently,
without diſturbing the Seas a iot, they conducted the ſmall Boat in ſuch
ſort, that after the night of her entering into it, and the morowes ſailing
vntill the euening, it came within an hundred leagues of Thunis, and to a
ſtrond neere a Towne called Suſa. The young Damoſell knew not whether
ſhe were on the ſea or land; as one, who not by any accident hapning,
lifted vp her head to look about her, neither intended euer to doe.
Now it came to paſſe, that as the boate was driuen to the ſhore, a poore
woman ſtood at the Sea ſide, waſhing certaine Fiſhermens Nets; and ſeeing
the boate comming towards her vnder ſaile, without any perſon appearing
in it, ſhe wondred thereat not a little. It being cloſe at the ſhore,
and ſhe thinking the Fiſhermen to be aſleepe therein: ſtept boldly, and
looked into the boate, where ſhe ſaw not any body, but onely the poore
diſtreſſed Damoſell, whoſe ſorowes hauing broght her now into a ſound
ſleepe, the woman gaue many cals before ſhe could awake her, which at
the length ſhe did, and looked very ſtrangely about her.
The poore woman perceyuing by her habite that ſhe was a Chriſtian,
demanded of her (in ſpeaking Latine) how it was poſſible for her, beeing
all alone in the boate, to arriue there in this manner? When Conſtance
heard her ſpeake the Latine tongue, ſhe began to doubt, leaſt ſome contrary
wi
•
de had turned her backe to Liparis againe, and ſtarting vp ſodainly,
to looke with better aduice about her, ſhee ſaw her ſelfe at Land:
and not knowing the Countrey, demanded of the poore woman where
ſhe was? Daughter (quoth ſhe) you are heere hard by Suſa in Barbarie.
Which Conſtance hearing, and plainly perceyuing, that death had denied
to end her miſeries, fearing leaſt ſhe ſhould receiue ſome diſhonour,
in ſuch a barbarous vnkinde Country, and not knowing what ſhold now
become of her, ſhe ſate downe by the boates ſide, wringing her hands, &
weeping bitterly.
The good Woman did greatly compaſſionate her caſe, and preuailed
ſo well by gentle ſpeeches, that ſhee conducted her into her owne poore
habitation; where at length ſhe vnderſtoode, by what meanes ſhee hapned
thither ſo ſtrangely. And perceyuing her to be faſting, ſhee ſet ſuch
homely bread as ſhe had before her, a few ſmall Fiſhes, and a Crewſe of
Water, praying her for to accept of that poore entertainement, which
meere neceſſity compelled her to do, and ſhewed her ſelfe very thankefull
for it.
Conſtance hearing that ſhe ſpake the Latine language ſo well; deſired
to know what ſhe was. Whereto the olde woman thus anſwered: Gentlewoman
(quoth ſhe) I am of Trapanum, named Carapreſa, and am a ſeruant
in this Countrey to certaine Chriſtian Fiſhermen. The yong Maiden
(albeit ſhe was very full of ſorow) hearing her name to be Carapreſa,
conceiued it as a good augury to her ſelfe, & that ſhe had heard the name
before, although ſhee knew not what occaſion ſhould moue her thus to
do. Now began her hopes to quicken againe, and yet ſhee could not tell
vpon what ground; nor was ſhe ſo deſirous of death as before, but made
more precious eſtimation of her life, and without any further declaration
of her ſelfe or countrey, ſhe entreated the good woman (euen for charities
ſake) to take pitty on her youth, and help her with ſuch good aduice,
to preuent all iniuries which might happen to her, in ſuch a ſolitary wofull
condition.
Carapreſa hauing heard her requeſt, like a good woman as ſhee was,
left Conſtance in her poore Cottage, and went haſtily to leaue her nets in
ſafety: which being done, ſhe returned backe againe, and couering Conſtance
with her Mantle, led her on to Suſa with her, where being arriued,
the good woman began in this manner. Conſtance, I will bring thee to
the houſe of a very worthy Sarazin Lady, to whome I haue done manie
honeſt ſeruices, according as ſhe pleaſed to command me. She is an ancient
woman, full of charity, and to her I will commend thee as beſt I
may, for I am well aſſured, that ſhee will gladly entertaine thee, and vſe
thee as if thou wert her owne daughter. Now, let it be thy part, during
thy time of remaining with her, to employ thy vtmoſt diligence in pleaſing
her, by deſeruing and gaining her grace, till heauen ſhall bleſſe thee
with better fortune: And as ſhe promiſed, ſo ſhe performed.
The Sarazine Lady, being well ſtept into yeares, vpon the commendable
ſpeeches deliuered by Carapreſa, did the more ſeriouſly faſten her
eye on Conſtance, and compaſſion prouoking her to teares, ſhe tooke her
by the hand, and (in louing manner) kiſſed her fore-head. So ſhe led her
further into her houſe, where dwelt diuers other women (but not one
man) all exerciſing themſelues in ſeuerall labours, as working in all ſorts
of ſilke, with Imbroideries of Gold and Siluer, and ſundry other excellent
Arts beſide, which in ſhort time were verie familiar to Conſtance, and ſo
pleaſing grew her behauiour to the old Lady, and all the reſt beſide; that
they loued and delighted in her wonderfully, and (by little and little) ſhe
attained to the ſpeaking of their language, although it were verie harſh
and difficult.
Conſtance continuing thus in the old Ladies ſeruice at Suſa, & thought
to be dead or loſt in her owne Fathers houſe; it fortuned, that one reigning
then as King of Thunis, who named himſelfe Mariabdela: there was
a young Lord of great birth, and very powerfull, who liued as then in
Granada, and pleaded that the Kingdome of Thunis belonged to him. In
which reſpect, he muſtred together a mighty Army, and came to aſſault
the King, as hoping to expell him. Theſe newes comming to the eare of
Martuccio Gomito, who ſpake the Barbarian Language perfectly; and hearing
it reported, that the King of Thunis made no meane preparation for
his owne defence: he conferred with one of his keepers, who had the cuſtody
of him, and the reſt taken with him, ſaying: If (quoth hee) I could
haue meanes to ſpeake with the King, and he were pleaſed to allow of my
counſell, I can enſtruct him in ſuch a courſe, as ſhall aſſure him to win the
honor of the field. The Guard reported theſe ſpeeches to his maſter, who
preſently acquainted the King therewith, and Martuccio being ſent for;
he was commanded to ſpeake his minde: Whereupon he began in this
manner.
My gracious Lord, during the time that I haue frequented your countrey,
I haue heedfully obſerued, that the Militarie Diſcipline vſed in your
fights and battailes, dependeth more vpon your Archers, then any other
men imployed in your warre. And therefore, if it could bee ſo ordered,
that this kinde of Artillery might fayle in your enemies Campe, & yours
be ſufficiently furniſhed therewith, you neede make no doubt of winning
the battaile: whereto the King thus replyed. Doubtleſſe, if ſuch an acte
were poſſible to be done, it would giue great hope of ſucceſſefull preuailing.
Sir, ſaid Martuccio, if you pleaſe it may bee done, and I can quickly
reſolue you how. Let the ſtrings of your Archers Bowes bee made more
ſoft and gentle, then thoſe which heretofore they haue formerly vſed; and
next, let the nockes of the Arrowes be ſo prouided, as not to receiue any
other, then thoſe pliant gentle ſtrings. But this muſt be done ſo ſecretly,
that your enemies may haue no knowledge therof, leaſt they ſhould prouide
themſelues in the
•
ame manner. Now the reaſon (Gracious Lord)
why thus I counſell you, is to this end. When the Archers on the Enemies
ſide haue ſhot their Arrowes at your men, and yours in the like maner
at them: it followeth, that (vpon meere conſtraint) they muſt gather
vp your Arrowes, to ſhoote them backe againe at you, for ſo long while
as the battell endureth, as no doubt but your men wil do the like to them.
But your enemies will finde themſelues much deceiued, becauſe they can
make no vſe of your peoples Arrowes, in regard that the nockes are too
narrow to receiue their boyſterous ſtrings. Which will fall out contrary
with your followers, for the pliant ſtrings belonging to your Bowes, are
as apt for their enemies great nockt Arrowes, as their owne, and ſo they
ſhall haue free vſe of both, reſeruing them in plentifull ſtore, when your
aduerſaries muſt ſtand vnfurniſhed of any, but them that they cannot any
way vſe.
This counſell pleaſed the King very highly, and hee being a Prince of
great vnderſtanding, gaue order to haue it accordingly followed, and
thereby valiantly vanquiſhed his enemies. Heereupon, Martuccio came
to be great in his grace, as alſo conſequently rich, and ſeated in no meane
place of authority. Now, as worthy and commendable actions are ſoone
ſpread abroad, in honor of the man by whome they hapned: euen ſo the
fame of this rare got victory, was quickly noyſed throughout the Countrey,
and came to the hearing of poore Conſtance, that Martuccio Gomito
(whom ſhe ſuppoſed ſo long ſince to be dead) was liuing, and in honourable
condition. The loue which formerly he bare vnto him, being not
altogether extinct in her heart; of a ſmall ſparke, brake foorth into a ſodaine
flame, and ſo encreaſed day by day, that her hope (being before almoſt
quite dead) reuiued againe in chearfull manner.
Hauing imparted all her fortunes to the good olde Lady with whome
ſhe dwelt; ſhe told her beſide, that ſhe had an earneſt deſire to ſee Thunis,
to ſatisfie her eyes as well as her eares, concerning the rumor blazed
abroad. The good olde Lady commended her deſire, and (euen as if ſhe
had bene her mother) tooke her with her aboord a Barke, and ſo ſayled
thence to Thunis, where both ſhe and Conſtance found honourable welcome,
in the houſe of a kinſman to the Sarazin Lady. Carapreſa alſo went
along with them thither, and her they ſent abroad into the Citie, to vnderſtand
the newes of Martuccio Gomito. After they knew for a certaintie
that hee was liuing) and in great authority about the King, according as
the former report went of him. Then the good old Lady, being deſirous
to let Martuccio know, that his faire friend Constance was come thither to
ſee him; went her ſelfe to the place of his abiding, and ſpake vnto him in
this manner. Noble Martuccio, there is a ſeruant of thine in my houſe,
which came from Liparis, and requireth to haue a little priuate conference
with thee: but becauſe I durſt not truſt any other with the meſſage,
my ſelfe (at her entreaty) am come to acquaint thee therewith. Martuccio
gaue her kinde and hearty thankes, and then went along with her to the
houſe.
No ſooner did Conſtance behold him, but ſhee was ready to dye with
conceite of ioy, and being vnable to containe her paſsion: ſodainely ſhe
threw her armes about his necke, and in meere compaſsion of her many
misfortunes, as alſo the inſtant ſolace of her ſoule (not being able to vtter
one word) the teares trickled abundantly downe her cheekes. Martuccio
alſo ſeeing his faire friend, was ouercome with exceeding admiration, &
ſtood awhile, as not knowing what to ſay; till venting forth a vehement
ſighe, thus he ſpake. My deereſt loue Conſtance! art thou yet liuing? It is
a tedious long while ſince I heard thou waſt loſt, and neuer any tydinges
knowne of thee in thine owne Fathers houſe. With which wordes, the
teares ſtanding in his eyes, moſt louingly he embraced her. Conſtance recoun
•
ed
to him all her fortunes, and what kindneſſe ſhe hadde receyued
from the Sarazine Lady, ſince her firſt houre of comming to her. And
after much other diſcourſe paſsing betweene them, Martuccio departed
from her, and returning to the King his maſter, tolde him all the hiſtorie
of his fortunes, and thoſe beſide of his Loue Conſtance, beeing purpoſely
minded (with his gracious liking) to marry her according to the Chriſtian
Law.
The King was much amazed at ſo many ſtrange accidents, and ſending
for Conſtance to come before him; from her own mouth he heard the
whole relation of her continued affection to Martuccio, whereuppon hee
ſaide. Now truſt me faire Damoſell, thou haſt dearly deſerued him to be
thy husband. Then ſending for very coſtly Iewels, and rich preſents, the
one halfe of them he gaue to her, and the other to Martuccio, graunting
them licenſe withall, to marry according to their owne mindes.
Martuccio did many honors, and gaue great giftes to the aged Sarazine
Lady, with whom Conſtance had liued ſo kindly reſpected: which although
ſhe had no neede of, neither euer expected any ſuch rewarding;
yet (conquered by their vrgent importunity, eſpecially Constance, who
could not be thankfull enough to her) ſhe was enforced to receiue them,
and taking her leaue of them weeping, ſayled backe againe to Suſa.
Within a ſhort while after, the King licenſing their departure thence,
they entred into a ſmall Barke, and Carapreſa with them, ſailing on with
proſperous gales of winde, vntill they arriued at Liparis, where they were
entertained with generall reioycing. And becauſe their marriage was
not ſufficiently performed at Thunis, in regard of diuers Chriſtian ceremonies
there wanting, their Nuptials were againe moſt honourably ſolemnized,
and they liued (many yeares after) in health and much happineſſe.
Pedro Bocamazzo, eſcaping away with a yong Damoſell which he loued, named Angelina, met with Theeues in his iourney. The Damoſell flying fearfully into a Forreſt, by chance arriueth at a Caſtle. Pedro being taken by the Theeues, and happening afterward to eſcape from them; commeth (accidentally to the ſame Caſtle where Angelina was. And marrying her, they then returned home to Rome.
The third Nouell.
Wherein, the ſeuerall powers both of Loue and Fortune, is more at large approued.
THere was not any one in the whole company, but much commended
the Nouell reported by Madam Emillia, and when the Queene
perceiued it was ended, ſhe turned towards Madam Eliza, commanding
her to continue on their delightfull exerciſe: whereto ſhee declaring her
willing obedience, began to ſpeak thus. Courteous Ladies, I remember
one vnfortunate night, which happened to two Louers, that were not indued
with the greateſt diſcretion. But becauſe they had very many
faire and happy dayes afterwardes, I am the more willing for to let you
heare it.
In the Citie of Rome, which (in times paſt) was called the Ladie and
Miſtreſſe of the world, though now ſcarſely ſo good as the waiting maid:
there dwelt ſometime a yong Gentleman, named Pedro Boccamazzo, deſcended
from one of the moſt honorable families in Rome, who was much
enamoured of a beautifull Gentlewoman, called Angelina, daughter to
one named Gigliuozzo Saullo, whoſe fortunes were none of the faireſt, yet
he greatly eſteemed among the Romaines. The entercourſe of loue between
theſe twaine, had ſo equally enſtructed their hearts and ſouls, that
it could hardly be iudged which of them was the more feruent in affection.
But he, not being imputed to ſuch oppreſſing paſſions, and therefore
the leſſe able to ſupport them, except he were ſure to compaſſe his deſire
plainly made the motion, that he might enioy her in honorable mariage.
Which his parents and friends hearing, they went to conferre with him,
blaming him with ouer-much baſeneſſe, ſo farre to diſgrace himſelfe and
his ſtocke. Beſide, they aduiſed the Father to the Maid, neither to credit
what Pedro ſaide in this caſe, or to liue in hope of any ſuch match, becauſe
they all did wholly deſpiſe it.
Pedro perceiuing, that the way was ſhut vp, wherby (and none other)
he was to mount the Ladder of his hopes; began to waxe weary of longer
liuing: and if he could haue won her fathers conſent, he would haue maried
her in the deſpight of all his friends. Neuertheleſſe, he had a conceit
hammering in his head, which if the maid would bee as forward as himſelfe,
ſhould bring the matter to full effect. Letters and ſecret intelligences
paſſing ſtill betweene, at length he vnderſtood her ready reſolution, to
aduenture with him thorough all fortunes whatſoeuer, concluding on
their ſodaine and ſecret flight from Rome. For which Pedro did ſo well
prouide, that very early in a morning, and well mounted on horſebacke,
they tooke the way leading vnto Alagna, where Pedro had ſome honeſt
friends, in whom he repoſed eſpeciall truſt. Riding on thus thorow the
countrey, hauing no leyſure to accompliſh their marriage, becauſe they
ſtoode in feare of purſuite: they were ridden aboue foure leagues from
Rome, ſtill ſhortning the way with their amorous diſcourſing.
It fortuned, that Pedro hauing no certaine knowledge of the way, but
following a trackt guiding too farre on the left hand; rode quite out of
courſe, and came at laſt within ſight of a ſmall Caſtle, out of which (before
they were aware) yſſued twelue Villaines, whom Angelina ſooner eſpyed,
then Pedro could do, which made her cry
〈◊〉
to him, ſaying: Help
deere Loue to ſaue vs, or elſe we ſhall be aſſayled. Pedro then turning his
horſe ſo expeditiouſly as he could, and giuing him the ſpurres as neede required;
mainly be gallopped into a neere adioyning Forreſt, more minding
the following of Angelina, then any direction of his way, or thē that
endeauoured to be his hinderance. So that by often winding & turning
about, as the paſſage appeared troubleſom to him, when he thought him
ſelfe free and furtheſt from them, he was round engirt, and ſeized on by
them. When they had made him to diſmount from his horſe, queſtioning
him of whence and what he was, and he reſoluing them therin, they
fell into a ſecret conſultation, ſaying thus among themſelues. This man
is a friend to our deadly enemies, how can wee then otherwiſe diſpoſe of
him, but bereaue him of all he hath, and in deſpight of the Orſini (men in
nature hatefull to vs) hang him vp heere on one of theſe Trees?
All of them agreeing in this diſmall reſolution, they commanded Pedro
to put off his garments, which he yeelding to do (albeit vnwillingly)
it ſo fell out, that fiue and twenty other theeues, came ſodainly ruſhing in
vpon them, crying, Kill, kill, and ſpare not a man.
They which before had ſurprized Pedro, deſiring nowe to ſhifte
for their owne ſafetie; left him ſtanding quaking in his ſhirt, and ſo
ranne away mainely to defend themſelues. Which the new crewe
perceyuing, and that their number farre exceeded the other: they followed
to robbe them of what they had gotten, accounting it as a preſent
purchaſe for them. Which when Pedro perceyued, and ſaw none
tarrying to prey vppon him; hee put on his cloathes againe, and mounting
on his owne Horſſe, gallopped that way, which Angelina before
had taken: yet could hee not deſcry any tracke or path, or ſo much as the
footing of a horſe; but thought himſelfe in ſufficient ſecuritie, beeing rid
of them that firſt ſeized on him, and alſo of the reſt, which followed in
the purſuite of them.
For the loſſe of his beloued Angelina, he was the moſt wofull man
in the world, wandering one while this way, and then againe another,
calling for her all about the Forreſt, without any anſwere returning to
him. And not daring to ride backe againe, on he trauailed ſtil, not knowing
where to make his arriuall. And hauing formerly heard of ſauage
rauenous beaſts, which commonly liue in ſuch vnfrequented Forreſts: he
not onely was in feare of looſing his owne life, but alſo deſpayred much
for his Angelina, leaſt ſome Lyon or Woolfe, had torne her body in peeces.
Thus rode on poore vnfortunate Pedro, vntill the breake of day appeared,
not finding any meanes to get forth of the Forreſt, ſtill crying and
calling for his fayre friend, riding many times backeward, when as hee
thought hee rode forward, vntill hee became ſo weake and faint, what
with extreame feare, lowd calling, and continuing ſo long a while without
any ſuſtenance, that the whole day beeing thus ſpent in vaine, and
darke night ſodainly come vppon him, hee was not able to hold out any
longer.
Now was hee in farre worſe caſe then before, not knowing where, or
how to diſpoſe of himſelfe, or what might beſt bee done in ſo great a neceſſity.
From his Horſe hee alighted, and tying him by the bridle vnto a
great tree, vppe he climbed into the ſame Tree, fearing to bee deuoured
(in the night time) by ſome wilde beaſt, chooſing rather to let his Horſſe
periſh, then himſelfe. Within a while after, the Moone beganne to riſe,
and the skies appeared bright and clcare: yet durſt hee not nod, or take a
nap, leſt he ſhould fall out of the tree; but ſate ſtill greeuing, ſighing, and
mourning, deſpairing of euer ſeeing his Angelina any more, for he could
not be comforted by the ſmalleſt hopefull perſwaſion, that any good fortune
might befall her in ſuch a deſolate Forreſt, where nothing but diſmall
feares was to be expected, and no likelihood that ſhe ſhould eſcape
with life.
Now, concerning poore affrighted Angelina, who (as you heard before)
knew not any place of refuge to flye vnto: but euen as it pleaſed hir
horſe to carry her: ſhe entred ſo farre into the Foreſt, that ſhe could not
deuiſe where to ſeeke her owne ſafety. And therefore, euen as it fared
with her friend Pedro, in the ſame manner did it fall out with her, wandering
the whole night, and all the day following, one while taking one
hopefull tracke, and then another, calling, weeping, wringing hir hands,
and greeuouſly complaining of her hard fortune. At the length, perceyuing
that Pedro came not to her at all, ſhe found a little path (which ſhee
lighted on by great good fortune) euen when dark night was apace drawing,
and followed it ſo long, til it brought her within the ſight of a ſmall
poore Cottage, whereto ſhe rode on ſo faſt as ſhe could; and found therin
a very old man, hauing a wife rather more aged then he, who ſeeing hir
to be without company, the old man ſpake thus vnto her.
Faire daughter (quoth he) whether wander you at ſuch an vnſeaſonable
houre, and all alone in a place ſo deſolate? The Damoſell weeping,
replied; that ſhee had loſt her company in the foreſt, and enquired how
neere ſhee was to Alagna. Daughter (anſwered the old man) this is not
the way to Alagna, for it is a boue ſixe leagues hence. Then ſhee deſired
to knowe, how farre off ſhee was from ſuch houſes, where ſhe might haue
any reaſonable lodging? There are none ſo neere, ſaid the old man, that
day light will giue you leaue to reach. May it pleaſe you then good Father
(replied Angelina) ſeeing I cannot trauaile any whether elſe; For
Gods ſake, to let me remaine heere with you this night. Daughter anſwered
the good old man, wee can gladly giue you entertainement here, for
this night, in ſuch poore manner as you ſee: but let mee tell you withall,
that vp and downe theſe wooddes (as well by night as day) walke companies
of all conditions, and rather enimies then friends, who doe vs many
greeuious displeaſures and harmes. Now if by msifortune, you beeing
heere, any ſuch people ſhould come, and ſeeing you ſo loouely faire, as
indeed you are, offer you any ſhame or iniurie: Alas you ſee it lies not
in our power to lend you any helpe or ſuccour. I thought it good (therefore)
to acquaint you heerewith; becauſe if any ſuch miſchance do happen,
you ſhould not afterward complaine of vs.
The yong Maiden, ſeeing the time to be ſo farre ſpent, albeit the olde
mans words did much diſmay her, yet ſhe thus replyed. If it be the wil of
heauen, both you and I ſhall be defended from any misfortune: but if any
ſuch miſchance do happen, I account the matter leſſe deſeruing grief,
if I fall into the mercy of men, then to be deuoured by wild beaſts in this
Forreſt. So, being diſmounted from her horſe, and entred into the homely
houſe; ſhe ſupt poorely with the olde man and his wife, with ſuch mean
cates as their prouiſion affoorded: and after ſupper, lay downe in hir garments
on the ſame poore pallet, where the aged couple tooke their reſt,
and was very well contented therewith, albeit ſhe could not refraine from
ſighing and weeping, to bee thus diuided from her deare Pedro, of whoſe
life and welfare ſhe greatly deſpaired.
When it was almoſt day, ſhe heard a great noiſe of people trauailing
by, whereupon ſodainly ſhe aroſe, and ranne into a Garden plot, which
was on the backſide of the poore Cottage, eſpying in one of the corners
a great ſtacke of Hay, wherein ſhe hid her ſelfe, to the end, that trauelling
ſtrangers might not readily finde her there in the houſe. Scarſely was ſhe
fully hidden, but a great company of Theeues and Villaines, finding the
doore open, ruſhed into the Cottage, where looking round about them
for ſome booty, they ſaw the Damoſels horſe ſtand ready ſadled, which
made them demand to whom it belonged. The good olde man, not ſeeing
the Maiden preſent there, but immagining that ſhee had made ſome
ſhift for her ſelfe, anſwered thus. Gentlemen, there is no body here but
my wife and my ſelfe: as for this Horſe, which ſeemeth to bee eſcaped
from the Owner; hee came hither yeſternight, and we gaue him houſeroome
heere, rather then to be deuoured by Wolues abroad. Then ſaid
the principall of the Theeuiſh crew: This horſe ſhall be ours, in regard he
hath no other maſter, and let the owner come claime him of vs.
When they had ſearched euery corner of the poore Cottage, & found
no ſuch prey as they looked for, ſome of them went into the backe ſide,
where they had left their Iauelins and Targets, wherewith they vſed commonly
to trauaile. It fortuned, that one of them, being more ſubtily ſuſpitious
then the reſt, thruſt his Iaueline into the ſtacke of Hay, in the very
ſame place where the Damoſell lay hidden, miſsing very little of killing
her; for it entred ſo farre, that the iron head pierced quite thorough her
Garments, and touched her left bare breſt: whereupon, ſhee was ready
to cry out, as fearing that ſhe was wounded: but conſidering the place
where ſhe was, ſhe lay ſtill, and ſpake not a word. This diſordred company,
after they had fed on ſome young Kids, and other fleſh which they
brought with them thither, they went thence about their theeuing exerciſe,
taking the Damoſels horſe along with them.
After they were gone a good diſtance off, the good old man beganne
thus to queſtion his Wife. What is become (quoth hee) of our young
Gentlewoman, which came ſo late to vs yeſternight? I haue not ſeen hir
to day ſince our ariſing. The old woman made anſwer, that ſhe knew not
where ſhe was, and ſought all about to finde her. Angelinaes feares being
well ouer-blowne, and hearing none of the former noiſe, which made
her the better hope of their departure, came forth of the Hay-ſtack; wherof
the good old man was not a little ioyfull, and becauſe ſhe had ſo well
eſcaped from them: ſo ſeeing it was now broad day-light, he ſayde vnto
her. Now that the morning is ſo fairely begun, if you can be ſo well contented,
we will bring you to a Caſtle, which ſtands about two miles and
an halfe hence, where you will be ſure to remaine in ſafety. But you muſt
needs trauaile thither on foote, becauſe the night-walkers that happened
hither, haue taken away your horſe with them.
Angelina making little or no account of ſuch a loſſe, entreated them for
charities ſake, to conduct her to that Caſtle, which accordingly they did,
•
nd arriued there betweene ſeuen and eight of the clocke. The Caſtle belonged
to one of the Orſini, being called, Liello di Campo di Fiore, and by
great good fortune, his wife was then there, ſhe being a very vertuous and
religious Lady. No ſooner did ſhee looke vpon Angelina, but ſhee knew
her immediately, and entertaining her very willingly, requeſted, to know
the reaſon of her thus arriuing there: which ſhee at large related, and moued
the Lady (who likewiſe knew Pedro perfectly well) to much compaſſion,
becauſe he was a kinſman and deare friend to her Husband; and vnderſtanding
how the Theeues had ſurprized him, ſhee feared, that he was
ſlaine among them, whereupon ſhee ſpake thus to Angelina. Seeing you
know not what is become of my kinſman Pedro, you ſhall remaine here
with me, vntill ſuch time, as (if we heare no other tidings of him) you may
with ſafety be ſent backe to Rome.
Pedro all this while ſitting in the Tree, ſo ful of griefe, as no man could
be more; about the houre of midnight (by the bright ſplendour of the
Moone) eſpied about ſome twenty Wolues, who, ſo ſoone as they got a
ſight of the Horſe, ran and engirt him round about. The Horſe when he
perceiued them ſo neere him, drew his head ſo ſtrongly back-ward, that
breaking the reines of his bridle, he laboured to eſcape away from them.
But being beſet on euery ſide, and vtterly vnable to helpe himſelfe, he contended
with his teeth & feete in his owne defence, till they haled him violently
to the ground, and tearing his body in peeces, left not a
•
ot of him
but the bare bones, and afterward ran ranging thorow the Forreſt. At this
ſight poore Pedro was mightily diſmayed, fearing to ſpeed no better then
his Horſe had done, and therefore could not deuiſe what was beſt to be
done; for he ſaw no likelihood now, of getting out of the Forreſt with life.
But day-light drawing on apace, and he almoſt dead with cold, hauing
ſtood quaking ſo long in the Tree; at length by continuall looking euery
where about him, to diſcerne the leaſt glimpſe of any comfort; he eſpied
a great fire, which ſeemed to be about halfe a mile off from him.
By this time it was broade day, when he deſcended downe out of the
Tree, (yet not without much feare) and tooke his way towards the fire,
where being arriued, he found a company of Shepheards banquetting about
it, whom he curteouſly ſaluting, they tooke pity on his diſtreſſe, and
welcommed him kindly. After he had taſted of ſuch cheare as they had,
and was indifferently refreſhed by the good fire; hee diſcourſed his hard
diſaſters to them, as alſo how he happened thither, deſiring to know, if
any Village or Caſtle were neere thereabout, where he might in better
manner releeue himſelfe. The Shepheards told him, that about a mile and
an halfe from thence, was the Caſtle of Signior Liello di Campo di Fiore, and
that his Lady was now reſiding there; which was no meane comfort to
poore Pedro, requeſting that one of them would accompany him thither,
as two of them did in louing manner, to ridde him of all further feares.
When he was arriued at the Caſtle, and found there diuers of his familiar
acquaintance; he laboured to procure ſome meanes, that the Damoſell
might be ſought for in the Forreſt. Then the Lady calling for her,
and bringing her to him; he ran and caught her in his armes, being ready
to ſwoune with conceit of ioy, for neuer could any man be more comforted,
then he was at the ſight of his Angelina, and queſtionleſſe, her ioy was
not a iot inferior to his, ſuch a ſimpathy of firme loue was ſealed between
them. The Lady of the Caſtle, after ſhee had giuen them very gracious
entertainement, and vnderſtood the ſcope of their bold aduenture; ſhee
reproued them both ſomewhat ſharpely, for preſuming ſo farre without
the conſent of their Parents. But perceiuing (notwithſtanding all her remonſtrances)
that they continued ſtill conſtant in their reſolution, without
any inequality on either ſide; ſhee ſaide to her ſelfe. Why ſhould
this matter be any way offenſiue to me? They loue each other loyally;
they are not inferiour to one another in birth, but in fortune; they are
equally loued and allied to my Husband, and their deſire is both honeſt
and honourable. Moreouer, what know I, if it be the will of Heauen to
haue it ſo? Theeues intended to hang him, in malice to his name and kinred,
from which hard fate he hath happily eſcaped. Her life was endangered
by a ſharpe pointed Iaueline, and yet her fairer ſtarres would not
ſuffer her ſo to periſh: beſide, they both haue eſcaped the fury of rauenous
wild beaſts, and all theſe are apparant ſignes, that future comforts ſhould
recompence former paſſed misfortunes; farre be it therefore from me, to
hinder the appointment of the Heauens.
Then turning her ſelfe to them, thus ſhee proceeded. If your deſire be
to ioyne in honourable marriage, I am well contented therewith, and
your nuptials ſhall here be ſollemnized at my Husbands charges. Afterward
both he and I will endeauour, to make peace between you and your
diſcontented Parents. Pedro was not a little ioyfull at her kind offer, and
Angelina much m
•
re then he; ſo they were maried together in the Caſtle,
and worthily feaſted by the Lady, as Forreſt entertainment could permit,
and there they enioyed the firſt fruits of their loue. Within a ſhort while
after, the Lady and they (well mounted on Horſe-backe▪ and attended
with an honourable traine) returned to Rome; where her Lord Liello and
ſhee preuailed ſo wel with Pedroes angry Parents: that all variance ended
in loue and peace, and afterward they liued louingly together, till old age
made them as honourable, as their true and mutuall affection formerly
had done.
Ricciardo Manardy, was found by Meſſer Lizio da Valbonna, as he ſate faſt aſleepe at his Daughters Chamber window, hauing his hand faſt in hers, and ſhee ſleeping in the ſame manner. Whereupon, they were ioyned together in marriage, and their long loyall loue mutually recompenced.
The fourth Nouell.
Declaring the diſcreete prouidence of Parents, in care of their Childrens loue and their owne credit, to cut off inconueniences, before they doe proceede too farre.
MAdam Eliza hauing ended her Tale, and heard what commendations
the whole company gaue thereof; the Queene commanded Philoſtratus,
to tell a Nouell agreeing with his owne minde, who ſmiling
thereat, thus replyed. Faire Ladies, I haue beene ſo often checkt & ſnapt,
for my yeſter dayes matter and argument of diſcourſing, which was both
tedious and offenſiue to you; that if I intended to make you any amends,
I ſhould now vndertake to tell ſuch a Tale, as might put you into a mirthfull
humour. Which I am determined to doe, in relating a briefe and
pleaſant Nouell, not any way offenſiue (as I truſt) but exemplary for ſome
good notes of obſeruation.
Not long ſince, there liued in Romania, a Knight, a very honeſt Gentleman,
and well qualified, whoſe name was Meſſer Lizio da Valbonna, to
whom it fortuned, that (at his entrance into age) by his Lady and wife,
called Iaquemina, he had a Daughter, the very choyceſt and goodlieſt gentlewoman
in all thoſe places. Now becauſe ſuch a happy bleſſing (in their
olde yeeres) was not a little comfortable to them; they thought themſelues
the more bound in duty, to be circumſpect of her education, by
keeping her out of ouer-frequent companies, but onely ſuch as agreed
beſt with their grauity, & might giue the leaſt ill example to their Daughter,
who was named Catharina; as making no doubt, but by this their prouident
and wary reſpect, to match her in mariage anſwerable to their liking.
There was alſo a young Gentleman, in the very flouriſhing eſtate
of his youthfull time, deſcended from the Family of the Manardy da Brettinoro,
named Meſſer Ricciardo, who oftentimes frequented the Houſe of
Meſſer Lizio, and was a continuall welcome gueſt to his Table, Meſſer
Lizio and his wife making the like account of him, euen as if he had beene
their owne Sonne.
This young Gallant, perceiuing the Maiden to be very beautifull, of
ſingular behauiour, and of ſuch yeeres as was fit for mariage, became
exceedingly enamoured of her, yet concealed his affection ſo cloſely as
he could; which was not ſo couertly caried, but that ſhe perceiued it, and
grew in as good liking of him. Many times he had an earneſt deſire to
haue conference with her, which yet ſtill he deferred, as fearing to diſpleaſe
her; till at the length he lighted on an apt opportunity, and boldly
ſpake to her in this manner. Faire Catharina, I hope thou wilt not let me
die for thy loue? Signior Ricciardo (replyed ſhee ſuddenly againe) I hope
you will extend the like mercy to me, as you deſire that I ſhould ſhew to
you. This anſwere was ſo pleaſing to Meſſer Ricciardo, that preſently he
ſaide. Alas deare Loue, I haue dedicated all my faireſt fortunes onely to
thy ſeruice, ſo that it remaineth ſoly in thy power, to diſpoſe of me as beſt
ſhall pleaſe thee, and to appoint ſuch times of priuate conuerſation, as
may yeeld more comfort to my poore afflicted ſoule.
Catharina ſtanding muſing a while, at laſt returned him this anſwere.
Signior Ricciardo, quoth ſhee, you ſee what a reſtraint is ſet on my liberty,
how ſhort I am kept from cōuerſing with any one, that I hold this our enterparlance
now almoſt miraculous. But if you could deuiſe any conuenient
meanes, to admit vs more familiar freedome, without any preiudice
to mine honour, or the leaſt diſtaſte of my Parents; doe but enſtruct it,
and I will aduenture it. Ricciardo hauing conſidered on many wayes and
meanes, thought one to be the fitteſt of all; and therefore thus replyed.
Catharina (quoth he) the onely place for our more priuate talking together,
I conceiue to be the Gallery ouer your Fathers Garden. If you can
winne your Mother to let you lodge there, I will make meanes to climbe
ouer the wall, and at the goodly gazing window, we may diſcourſe ſo long
as we pleaſe. Now truſt me deare Loue (anſwered Catharina) no place
can be more conuenient for our purpoſe, there ſhall we heare the ſweete
Birds ſing, eſpecially the Nightingale, which I haue heard ſinging there all
the night long; I will breake the matter to my Mother, and how I ſpeede,
you ſhall heare further from me. So, with diuers parting kiſſes, they brake
off conference, till their next meeting.
On the day following, which was towards the ending of the moneth
of May, Catharina began to complaine to her Mother, that the ſeaſon was
ouer-hot and tedious, to be ſtill lodged in her Mothers Chamber, becauſe
it was an hinderance to her ſleeping; and wanting reſt, it would be an
empairing of her health. Why Daughter (quoth the Mother) the weather
(as yet) is not ſo hot, but (in my minde) you may very well endure it. Alas
Mother, ſaid ſhee, aged people, as you and my Father are, doe not feele
the heates of youthfull bloud, by reaſon of your farre colder complexion,
which is not to be meaſured by younger yeeres. I know that well Daughter,
replyed the Mother; but is it in my power, to make the weather
warme or coole, as thou perhaps wouldſt haue it? Seaſons are to be ſuffered,
according to their ſeuerall qualities; and though the laſt night might
ſeeme hot, this next enſuing may be cooler, and then thy reſt will be the
better. No Mother, quoth Catharina, that cannot be; for as Summer proceedeth
on, ſo the heate encreaſeth, and no expectation can be of temperate
weather, vntill it groweth to Winter againe. Why Daughter,
ſaide the Mother, what wouldeſt thou haue me to doe? Mother (quoth
ſhee) if it might ſtand with my Fathers good liking and yours, I would be
ſpared from in the Garden Gallery, which is a great deale more coole,
and temperate. There ſhall I heare the ſweete Nightingale ſing, as euery
night ſhee vſeth to doe, and many other pretty Birds beſide, which I cannot
doe, lodging in your Chamber.
The Mother louing her Daughter dearely, as being ſome-what ouerfond
of her, and very willing to giue her contentment; promiſed to impart
her minde to her Father, not doubting but to compaſſe what ſhee requeſted.
When ſhee had moued the matter to Meſſer Lizio, whoſe age
made him ſomewhat froward and teaſty; angerly he ſaid to his wife. Why
how now woman? Cannot our Daughter ſleepe, except ſhee heare the
Nightingale ſing? Let there be a bed made for her in the Ouen, and there
let the Crickets make her melody. When Catharina heard this anſwere
from her Father, and ſaw her deſire to be diſappointed; not onely could
ſhee take any reſt the night following, but alſo complained more of the
heate then before, not ſuffering her Mother to take any reſt, which made
her goe angerly to her Husband in the morning, ſaying. Why Husband,
haue we but one onely Daughter, whom you pretend to loue right dearely,
and yet can you be ſo careleſſe of her, as to denie her a requeſt, which
is no more then reaſon? What matter is it to you or me, to let her lodge
in the Garden Gallery? Is her young bloud to be compared with ours?
Can our weake and crazie bodies, feele the frolicke temper of hers? Alas,
ſhee is hardy (as yet) out of her childiſh yeeres, and Children haue many
deſires farre differing from ours: the ſinging of Birds is rare muſicke to
them, and chiefly the Nightingale; whoſe ſweete notes will prouoke them
to reſt, when neither art or phyſicke can doe it.
Is it euen ſo Wife? anſwered Meſſer Lizio. Muſt your will and mine
be gouerned by our Daughter? Well be it ſo then, let her bed be made in
the Garden Gallerie, but I will haue the keeping of the key, both to locke
her in at night, and ſet her at libertie euery morning. Woman, woman,
young wenches are wily, many wanton crochets are buſie in their braines,
and to vs that are aged, they ſing like Lapwings, telling vs one thing, and
intending another; talking of Nightingales, when their mindes run on
Cocke-Sparrowes. Seeing Wife, ſhee muſt needes haue her minde, let
yet your care and mine extend ſo farre, to keepe her chaſtity vncorrupted,
and our credulity from being abuſed. Catharina hauing thus preuailed
with her Mother, her bed made in the Garden Gallery, and ſectet intelligence
giuen to Ricciardo, for preparing his meanes of acceſſe to her
window; old prouident Lizio lockes the doore to bed-ward, and giues her
liberty to come forth in the morning, for his owne lodging was neere to
the ſame Gallery.
In the dead and ſilent time of night, when all (but Louers) take their
reſt; Ricciardo hauing prouided a Ladder of Ropes, with grapling hookes
to take hold aboue and below, according as he had occaſion to vſe it. By
helpe thereof, firſt he mounted ouer the Garden wall, and then climbde
vp to the Gallery window, before which (as is euery whe
•
e in Italie) was a
little round eng
••
ting Tarras, onely for a man to ſtand vpon, for making
cleane the window, or otherwiſe repairing it. Many nights (in this manner)
enioyed they their meetings, entermixing their amorous conference
with infinite kiſſes and kinde embraces, as the window gaue leaue, he ſitting
in the Tarras, and departing alwayes before breake of day, for feare
of being diſcouered by any.
But, as exceſſe of delight is the Nurſe to negligence, and begetteth ſuch
an ouer-preſuming boldneſſe, as afterward proueth to be ſauced with repentance:
ſo came it to paſſe with our ouer-fond Louers, in being taken
•
ardy through their owne folly. After they had many times met in this
manner, the nights (according to the ſeaſon) growing ſhorter and ſhorter,
which their ſtolne delight made them leſſe reſpectiue of, then was requiſite
in an aduenture ſo dangerous: it fortuned, that their amorous pleaſure
had ſo farre tranſported them, and dulled their ſences in ſuch ſort, by
theſe then continued nightly watchings; that they both fell faſt aſleepe,
he hauing his hand cloſed in hers, and ſhee one arme folded about his body,
and thus they ſlept till broade day light. Old Meſſer Lizio, who continually
was the morning Cocke to the whole Houſe, going foorth into
his Garden, ſaw how his Daughter and Ricciardo were ſeated at the window.
In he went againe, and going to his wiues Chamber, ſaide to her.
Riſe quickly wiſe, and you ſhall ſee, what made our Daughter ſo deſirous
to lodge in the Garden Gallery. I perceiue that ſhee loued to heare the
Nightingale, for ſhee hath caught one, and holds him faſt in her hand. Is
it poſſible, ſaide the Mother, that our Daughter ſhould catch a liue Nightingale
in the darke? You ſhall ſee that your ſelfe, anſwered Meſſer Lizio,
if you will make haſte, and goe with me.
Shee, putting on her garments in great haſte, followed her Husband,
and being come to the Gallery doore, he opened it very ſoftly, and going
to the window, ſhewed her how they both ſate faſt aſleepe, and in ſuch
manner as hath been before declared: whereupon, ſhee perceiuing how
Ricciardo and Catharina had both deceiued her, would haue made an outcry,
but that Meſſer Lizio ſpake thus to her. Wife, as you loue me, ſpeake
not a word, neither make any noyſe: for, ſeeing ſhee hath loued Ricciardo
without our knowledge, and they haue had their priuate meetings in this
manner, yet free from any blamefull imputation; he ſhall enioy her, and
ſhee him. Ricciardo is a Gentleman, well deriued, and of rich poſſeſſions,
it can be no diſparagement to vs, that Catharina match with him in mariage,
which he neither ſhall, or dare denie to doe, in regard of our Lawes
ſeuerity; for climbing vp to my window with his Ladder of Ropes, wherby
his life is forfeited to the Law, except our Daughter pleaſe to ſpare it,
as it remaineth in her power to doe, by accepting him as her husband, or
yeelding his life vp to the Law, which ſurely ſhee will not ſuffer, their loue
agreeing together in ſuch mutuall manner, and he aduenturing ſo dangerouſly
for her.
Madam Iaquemina, perceiuing that her husband ſpake very reaſonably,
and was no more offended at the matter; ſtept aſide with him behinde
the drawne Curtaines, vntill they ſhould awake of themſelues. At
the laſt, Ricciardo awaked, and ſeeing it was ſo farre in the day, thought
himſelfe halfe dead, and calling to Catharina, ſaide. Alas deare Loue!
what ſhall we doe? we haue ſlept too long, and ſhall be taken here. At
which words, Meſſer Lizio ſtept forth from behind the Curtaines, ſaying-Nay,
Signior Ricciardo, ſeeing you haue found ſuch an vnbefitting way hither,
we will prouide you a better for your backe returning. When Ricciardo
ſaw the Father and Mother both there preſent, he could not deuiſe
what to doe or ſay, his ſences became ſo ſtrangely confounded; yet knowing
how hainouſly hee had offended, if the ſtrictneſſe of Law ſhould be
challenged againſt him, falling on his knees, he ſaide. Alas Meſſer Lizio,
I humbly craue your mercy, confeſſing my ſelfe well worthy of death, that
knowing the ſharpe rigour of the Law, I would preſume ſo audaciouſly
to breake it. But pardon me worthy Sir, my loyall and vnfeined loue to
your Daughter Catharina, hath beene the onely cauſe of my tranſgreſſing.
Ricciardo (replyed Meſſer Lizio) the loue I beare thee, and the honeſt
confidence I doe repoſe in thee, ſtep vp (in ſome meaſure) to pleade thine
excuſe, eſpecially in the regard of my Daughter, whom I blame thee not
for louing, but for this vnlawfull way of preſuming to her. Neuertheleſſe,
perceiuing how the caſe now ſtandeth, and conſidering withall, that youth
and affection were the ground of thine offence: to free thee from death,
and my ſelfe from diſhonour, before thou departeſt hence, thou ſhalt
eſpouſe my Daughter Catharina, to make her thy lawfull wife in mariage,
and wipe off all ſcandall to my Houſe and me. All this while was poore
Catharina on her knees likewiſe to her Mother, who (notwithſtanding this
her bold aduenture) made earneſt ſuite to her Husband to remit all, becauſe
Ricciardo right gladly condiſcended, as it being the maine iſſue of
his hope and deſire; to accept his Catharina in mariage, whereto ſhee was
as willing as he. Meſſer Lizio preſently called for the Confeſſour of his
Houſe, and borrowing one of his Wiues Rings, before they went out of
the Gallery; Ricciardo and Catharina were eſpouſed together, to their no
little ioy and contentment.
Now had they more leaſure for further conference, with the Parents
and kindred to Ricciardo, who being no way diſcontented with this ſudden
match, but applauding it in the higheſt degree; they were publikely maried
againe in the Cathedrall Church, and very honourable triumphes
performed at the nuptials, liuing long after in happy proſperity.
Guidotto of Cremona, departing out of this mortall life, left a Daughter of his, with Iacomino of Pauia. Giouanni di Seuerino, and Menghino da Minghole, fell both in loue with the young Maiden, and fought for h
••
; who being afterward knowne, to be the Siſter to Giouanni, ſhee was giuen in mariage to Menghino.
The fifth Nouell.
Wherein may be obſerued, what quarrels and contentions are occaſioned by Loue; with ſome particular diſcription, concerning the ſincerity of a loyall friend.
ALl the Ladies laughing heartily, at the Nouell of the Nightingale, ſo
pleaſingly deliuered by Philoſtratus, when they ſaw the ſame to be
fully ended, the Queene thus ſpake. Now truſt me Philoſtratus, though
yeſter-day you did much oppreſſe mee with melancholy, yet you haue
made me ſuch an amends to day, as wee haue little reaſon to complaine
any more of you. So conuerting her ſpeech to Madam Neiphila, ſhee
commanded her to ſucceede with her diſcourſe, which willingly ſhe yeelded
to, beginning in this manner. Seeing it pleaſed Philoſtratus, to produce
his Nouell out of Romania: I meane to walke with him in the ſame
iuriſdiction, concerning what I am to ſay.
There dwelt ſometime in the City of Fano, two Lombards, the one
being named Guidotto of Cremona, and the other Iacomino of Pauia, men
of ſufficient entrance into yeeres, hauing followed the warres (as Souldiers)
all their youthful time. Guidotto feeling ſickneſſe to ouer-maſter him,
and hauing no ſonne, kinſman, or friend, in whom he might repoſe more
truſt, then hee did in Iacomino: hauing long conference with him about
his worldly affaires, and ſetled his whole eſtate in good order; he left a
Daughter to his charge, about ten yeeres of age, with all ſuch goods as
he enioyed, and then departed out of this life. It came to paſſe, that the
City of Forenza, long time being moleſted with tedious warres, and ſubiected
to very ſeruile condition; beganne now to recouer her former
ſtrength, with free permiſſion (for all ſuch as pleaſed) to returne and poſſeſſe
their former dwellings. Whereupon, Iacomino (hauing ſometime
beene an inhabitant there) was deſirous to liue in Faenza againe, conuaying
thither all his goods, and taking with him alſo the young girle, which
Guidotto had left him, whom hee loued, and reſpected as his owne
childe.
As ſhee grew in ſtature, ſo ſhee did in beauty and vertuous qualities,
as none was more commended throughout the whole City, for faire, ciuill,
and honeſt demeanour, which incited many amorouſly to affect her.
But (aboue all the reſt) two very honeſt young men, of good fame and repute,
who were ſo equally in loue addicted to her, that being iealous of
each others fortune, in preuenting of their ſeuerall hopefull expectation;
a deadly hatred grew ſuddenly betweene them, the one being named,
Giouanni de Seuerino, and the other Menghino da Minghole. Either of theſe
two young men, before the Maide was fifteene yeeres old, laboured to be
poſſeſſed of her in marriage, but her Guardian would giue no conſent
thereto: wherefore, perceiuing their honeſt intended meaning to be fruſtrated,
they now began to buſie their braines, how to foreſtall one another
by craft and circumuention.
Iacomino had a Maide-ſeruant belonging to his Houſe, ſomewhat aged,
and a Man-ſeruant beſide, named Griuello, of mirthfull diſpoſition, and
very friendly, with whom Giouanni grew in great familiarity; and when he
found time fit for the purpoſe, he diſcouered his loue to him, requeſting
his furtherance and aſſiſtance, in compaſſing the height of his deſire, with
bountifull promiſes of rich rewarding; whereto Griuello returned this anſwere.
I know not how to ſted you in this caſe, but when my Maſter ſhall
ſup foorth at ſome Neighbours Houſe, to admit your entrance where ſhe
is: becauſe, if I offer to ſpeake to her, ſhee neuer will ſtay to heare me.
Wherefore, if my ſeruice this way may doe you any good, I promiſe to
performe it; doe you beſide, as you ſhall find it moſt conuenient for you.
So the bargaine was agreed on betweene them, and nothing elſe now remained,
but to what iſſue it ſhould ſort in the end.
Menghino, on the other ſide, hauing entred into the Chamber-maides
acquaintance, ſped ſo well with her, that ſhee deliuered ſo many meſſages
from him, as had (already) halfe won the liking of the Virgin; paſſing
further promiſes to him beſide, of bringing him to haue conference with
her, whenſoeuer her Maſter ſhould be abſent from home. Thus Menghino
being fauoured (on the one ſide) by the olde Chamber-maide, and Giouanni
(on the other) by truſty Griuello; their amorous warre was now on
foote, and diligently followed by both their ſollicitors. Within a ſhort
while after, by the procurement of Griuello, Iacomino was inuited by a
neighbour to ſupper, in company of diuers his very familiar friends, wherof
intelligence being giuen to Giouanni; a concluſion paſſed betweene
them, that (vpon a certaine ſignale giuen) he ſhould come, and finde the
doore ſtanding ready open, to giue him all acceſſe vnto the affected
Mayden.
The appointed night being come, and neither of theſe hot Louers
knowing the others intent, but their ſuſpition being alike, and encreaſing
ſtill more and more; they made choyce of certaine friends and aſſociates,
well armed and prouided, for eithers ſafer entrance when neede ſhould require.
Menghino ſtayed with his troope, in a neere neighbouring houſe to
the Mayden, attending when the ſignall would be giuen: but Giouanni and
his con
•
orts, were ambuſhed ſomewhat further off from the Houſe, and
both ſaw when Iacomino went foorth to ſupper. Now Grinello and the
Chamber-maide began to vary, which ſhould ſend the other out of the
way, till they had effected their ſeuerall intention; whereupon Grinello ſaid
to her. What maketh thee to walke thus about the Houſe, and why doeſt
thou not get thee to bed? And thou (quoth the Maide) why doeſt thou
not goe to attend on our Maſter, and tarry for his returning home? I am
ſure thou haſt ſupt long agoe, and I know no buſineſſe here in the Houſe
for thee to doe. Thus (by no meanes) the one could ſend away the other,
but either remained as the others hinderance.
But Grinello remembring himſelfe, that the houre of his appointment
with Giouanni was come, he ſaide to himſelfe. What care I whether our
olde Maide be preſent, or no? If ſhee diſcloſe any thing that I doe, I can
be reuenged on her when I liſt. So, hauing made the ſignall, he went to
open the doore, euen when Giouanni (and two of his confederates) ruſhed
into the Houſe, and finding the faire young Maiden ſitting in the Hall,
laide hands on her, to beare her away. The Damoſell began to reſiſt them,
crying out for helpe ſo loude as ſhee could, as the olde Chamber-maide
did the like: which Menghino hearing, he ranne thither preſently with his
friends, and ſeeing the young Damoſell brought well-neere out of the
Houſe; they drew their Swords, crying out: Traytors, you are but dead
men, here is no violence to be offered, neither is this a booty for ſuch baſe
groomes. So they layed about them luſtily, and would not permit them
to paſſe any further. On the other ſide, vpon this mutinous noyſe and
out-cry, the Neighbours came foorth of their Houſes, with lights, ſtaues,
and clubbes, greatly reprouing them for this out-rage, yet aſſiſting Menghino:
by meanes whereof, after a long time of contention, Menghino recouered
the Mayden from Giouanni, and placed her peaceably in Iacominoes
Houſe.
No ſooner was this hurly-burly ſomewhat calmed, but the Serieants
to the Captaine of the City, came thither, and apprehended diuers of the
mutiners: among whom were Menghino, Giouanni, and Grinello, committing
them immediately to priſon. But after euery thing was pacified, and
Iacomino returned home to his Houſe from ſupper; he was not a little offended
at ſo groſſe an iniury. When he was fully informed, how the matter
happened, and apparantly perceiued, that no blame at all could be impoſed
on the Mayden: he grew the better contented, reſoluing with himſelfe
(becauſe no more ſuch inconueniences ſhould happen) to haue her
married ſo ſoone as poſſibly he could.
When morning was come, the kindred and friends on either ſide, vnderſtanding
the truth of the errour committed, and knowing beſide, what
puniſhment would be inflicted on the priſoners, if Iacomino preſſed the
matter no further, then as with reaſon and equity well he might; they repaired
to him, and (in gentle ſpeeches) entreated him, not to regard a
wrong offered by vnruly and youthfull people, meerely drawne into the
action by perſwaſion of friends; ſubmitting both themſelues, and the offendors,
to ſuch ſatisfaction as he pleaſed to appoint them. Iacomino, who
had ſeene and obſerued many things in his time, and was a man of ſound
vnderſtanding, returned them this anſwere.
Gentlemen, if I were in mine owne Countrey, as now I am in yours; I
would as forwardly confeſſe my ſelfe your friend, as here I muſt needes
fall ſhort of any ſuch ſeruice, but euen as you ſhall pleaſe to command
me. But plainely, and without all further ceremonious complement, I
muſt agree to whatſoeuer you can requeſt; as thinking you to be more iniured
by me, then any great wrong that I haue ſuſtained. Concerning the
young Damoſell remaining in my Houſe, ſhee is not (as many haue imagined)
either of Cremona, or Pauia, but borne a Faentine, here in this Cirie:
albeit neither my ſelfe, ſhee, or he of whom I had her, did euer know
it, or yet could learne whoſe Daughter ſhee was. Wherefore, the ſuite
you make to me, ſhould rather (in duty) be mine to you: for ſhee is a natiue
of your owne, doe right to her, and then you can doe no wrong vnto
mee.
When the Gentlemen vnderſtood, that the Mayden was borne in Faenza,
they maruelled thereat, and after they had thanked Iacomino for his
curteous anſwer; they deſired him to let them know, by what meanes the
Damoſell came into his cuſtody, and how he knew her to be borne in Faenza:
when he, perceiuing them attentiue to heare him, began in this
manner.
Vnderſtand worthy Gentlemen, that Guidotto of Cremona, was my
companion and deare friend, who growing neere to his death, tolde me,
that when this City was ſurprized by the Emperour Frederigo, and all
things committed to ſacke and ſpoile; he and certaine of his confederates
entred into a Houſe, which they found to be well furniſhed with goods,
but vtterly forſaken of the dwellers, onely this poore Mayden excepted,
being then aged but two yeeres, or thereabout. As hee mounted vp the
ſteps, with intent to depart from the Houſe; ſhe called him Father, which
word moued him ſo compaſſionately: that he went backe againe, brought
her away with him, and all things of worth which were in the Houſe, going
thence afterward to Fano, and there deceaſing, he left her and all his
goods to my charge; conditionally, that I ſhould ſee her maried when
due time required, and beſtow on her the wealth which he had left her.
Now, very true it is, although her yeeres are conuenient for mariage, yet
I could neuer find any one to beſtow her on, at leaſt that I thought fitting
for her: howbeit, I will liſten thereto much more reſpectiuely, before any
other ſuch accident ſhall happen.
It came to paſſe, that in the reporting of this diſcourſe, there was then
a Gentleman in the company, named Guillemino da Medicina, who at the
ſurprizal of the City, was preſent with Guidotto of Cremona, and knew well
the Houſe which he had ranſacked, the owner whereof was alſo preſent
with him, wherefore taking him aſide, he ſaide to him. Bernardino, heareſt
thou what Iacomino hath related? yes very wel, replyed Bernardino, and remember
withall, that in that diſmall bloody combuſtion, I loſt a little
Daughter, about the age as Iacomino ſpake he. Queſtionleſſe then, replied
Guillemino, ſhee muſt needes be the ſame young Mayden, for I was there
at the ſame time, and in the Houſe, whence Guidotto did bring both the
girle and goods, and I doe perfectly remember, that it was thy Houſe.
I pray thee call to minde, if euer thou ſaweſt any ſcarre or marke about
her, which may reuiue thy former knowledge of her, for my minde perſwades
me, that the Maide is thy Daughter.
Bernardino muſing a while with himſelfe, remembred, that vnder her
left care, ſhee had a ſcarre, in the forme of a little croſſe, which happened
by the byting of a Wolfe, and but a ſmall while before the ſpoyle was
made. Wherefore, without deferring it to any further time, he ſtept to Iacomino
(who as yet ſtaied there) and entreated him to fetch the Mayden
from his houſe, becauſe ſhee might be knowne to ſome in the company:
whereto right willingly he condiſcended, and there preſented the Maide
before them. So ſoone as Bernardino beheld her, he began to be much inwardly
moued, for the perfect character of her Mothers countenance,
was really figured in her ſweete face; onely that her beauty was ſomewhat
more excelling. Yet not herewith ſatisfied, he deſired Iacomino to be ſo
pleaſed, as to lift vp a little the lockes of haire, depending ouer her left
eare▪
Iacomino did it preſently, albeit with a modeſt bluſhing in the maide,
and Bernardino looking aduiſedly on it, knew it to be the ſelfe ſame croſſe;
which confirmed her conſtantly to be his Daughter.
Ouercome with exceſſe of ioy, which made the teares to trickle downe
his cheekes, he proffered to embrace and kiſſe the Maide: but ſhe refuſing
his kindneſſe, becauſe (as yet) ſhee knew no reaſon for it, he turned himſelfe
to Iacomino, ſaying. My deare brother and friend, this Maide is my
Daughter, and my Houſe was the ſame which Guidotto ſpoyled, in the generall
hauocke of our City, and thence he carried this child of mine, forgotten
(in the fury) by my Wife her Mother. But happy was the houre
of his becomming her Father, and carrying her away with him; for elſe
ſhe had periſhed in the fire, becauſe the Houſe was inſtantly burnt downe
to the ground. The Mayden hearing his words, obſeruing him alſo to
be a man of yeeres and grauity: ſhee beleeued what he ſaide, and humbly
ſubmitted her ſelfe to his kiſſes & embraces, euen as inſtructed thereto by
inſtinct of nature. Bernardino inſtantly ſent for his wife, her owne mother,
his daughters, ſonnes, and kindred, who being acquainted with this admirable
accident, gaue her moſt gracious and kind welcome, he receiuing her
from Iacomino as his childe, and the legacies which Guidotto had left her.
When the Captaine of the City (being a very wiſe and worthy Gentleman)
heard theſe tydings, and knowing that Giouanni, then his priſoner,
was the Son to Bernardino, and naturall Brother to the newly recouered
Maide: he bethought himſelfe, how beſt he might qualifie the fault committed
by him. And entring into the Hall among them, handled the matter
ſo diſcreetly, that a louing league of peace was confirmed betweene
Giouanni and Menghino, to whom (with free and full conſent on all ſides)
the faire Maide, named Agatha, was giuen in marriage, with a more honourable
enlargement of her dowry, and Grinello, with the reſt, deliuered
out of priſon, which for their tumultuous riot they had iuſtly deſerued.
Menghino and Agatha had their wedding worthily ſollemnized, with all
due honours belonging thereto; and long time after they liued in Faenza,
highly beloued, and graciouſly eſteemed.
Guion di Procida, being found familiarly conuerſing with a young Damoſell, which he loued; and had beene giuen (formerly) to Frederigo, King of Sicilie: was bound to a ſtake, to be conſumed with fire. From which danger (neuertheleſſe) he eſcaped, being knowne by Don Rogiero de Oria, Lord Admirall of Sicilie, and afterward married the Damoſell.
The ſixth Nouell.
Wherein is manifeſted, that loue can leade a man into numberleſſe perils: out of which he eſcapeth with no meane difficulty.
THe Nouell of Madam Neiphila being ended, which proued very
pleaſing to the Ladies: the Queene commanded Madam Pampinea,
that ſhee ſhould prepare to take her turne next, whereto willingly obeying,
thus ſhee began. Many and mighty (Gracious Ladies) are the preuailing
powers of loue, conducting amorous ſoules into infinite trauels,
with inconueniences no way auoidable, and not eaſily to be foreſeene, or
preuented. As partly already hath beene obſerued, by diuers of our former
Nouels related, and ſome (no doubt) to enſue hereafter; for one of
them (comming now to my memory) I ſhall acquaint you withall, in ſo
good tearmes as I can.
Iſchia is an Iland very neere to Naples, wherein (not long ſince) liued a
faire and louely Gentlewoman, named Restituta, Daughter to a Gentleman
of the ſame Iſle, whoſe name was Marino Bolgaro. A proper youth
called Guion, dwelling alſo in a neere neighbouring Iſle, called Procida,
did loue her as dearely as his owne life, and ſhe was as intimately affected
towards him. Now becauſe the ſight of her was his onely comfort, as occaſion
gaue him leaue; he reſorted to Iſchia very often in the day time, and
as often alſo in the night ſeaſon, when any Barque paſſed from Procida to
Iſchia; if to ſee nothing elſe, yet to behold the walles that encloſed his Miſtreſſe
thus.
While this loue continued in equall feruency, it chanced vpon a faire
Summers day, that Reſtituta walked alone vpon the Sea-ſhoare, going
from Rocke to Rocke, hauing a naked knife in her hand, wherewith ſhee
opened ſuch Oyſters as ſhee found among the ſtones, ſeeking for ſmall
pearles encloſed in their ſhelles. Her walke was very ſolitary and ſhady,
with a faire Spring or well adioyning to it, and thither (at that very inſtant
time) certaine Sicilian young Gentlemen, which came from Naples, had
made their retreate. They perceiuing the Gentlewoman to be very beautifull
(ſhee as yet not hauing any ſight of them) and in ſuch a ſilent place
alone by her ſelfe: concluded together, to make a purchaſe of her, and
carry her thence away with them; as indeed they did, notwithſtanding
all her out-cryes and exclaimes, bearing her perforce aboard their Barque.
Setting ſayle thence, they arriued in Calabria, and then there grew a
great contention betweene them, to which of them this booty of beauty
ſhould belong; becauſe each of them pleaded a title to her. But when they
could not grow to any agreement, but doubted greater diſaſter would enſue
thereon, by breaking their former league of friendſhip: by an equall
conformity in conſent, they reſolued, to beſtow her as a rich preſent, on
Frederigo King of Sicilie, who was then young & iouiall, and could not be
pleaſed with a better gift; wherefore, they were no ſooner landed at Palermo,
but they did according as they had determined. The King did commend
her beauty extraordinarily, and liked her farre beyond all his other
Loues: but, being at that time empaired in his health, and his body much
diſtempered by ill dyet; he gaue command, that vntill he ſhould be in
more able diſpoſition, ſhee muſt be kept in a goodly houſe of his owne,
erected in a beautifull Garden, called the Cube, where ſhee was attended
in moſt pompeous manner.
Now grew the noyſe and rumor great in Iſchia, about this rape or ſtealing
away of Reſtituta; but the chiefeſt greeuance of all, was, that it could
not be knowne how, by whom, or by what meanes. But Guion di Procida,
whom this iniury concerned much more then any other; ſtood not in expectation
of better tydings from Iſchia, but hearing what courſe the Barke
had taken, made ready another, to follow after with all poſſible ſpeede.
Flying thus on the winged minds through the Seas, euen from Minerua,
vnto the Scalea in Calabria, ſearching for his loſt Loue in euery angle: at
length it was tolde him at the Scale
•
that ſhee was carried away by certaine
Sicillian Marriners, to Palermo, whither Guion ſet ſayle immediately.
After ſome diligent ſearch made there, he vnderſtood, that ſhe was deliuered
to the King, and he had giuen ſtrict command, for keeping her in
his place of pleaſure; called the Cube: which newes were not a little greeuous
to him, for now he was almoſt quite out of hope, not onely of euer
enioying her, but alſo of ſeeing her. Neuertheleſſe, Loue would not let
him vtterly deſpaire, whereupon he ſent away his Barque, and perceiuing
himſelfe to be vnk owne of any; he continued for ſome time in Palermo,
walking many times by that goodly place of pleaſure. It chanced on a
day, that keeping his walke as he vſed to doe, Fortune was ſo fauourable to
him, as to let him haue a ſight of her at her window; from whence alſo
ſhe had a full view of him, to their exceeding comfort and contentment.
And Guion obſeruing, that the Cube was ſeated in a place of ſmall reſort;
approached ſo neere as poſſibly he durſt, to haue ſome conference with
Reſtituta.
As Loue ſets a keene edge on the dulleſt ſpirit, and (by a ſmall aduantage)
makes a man the more aduenturous: ſo this little time of vnſeene
talke, inſpired him with courage, and her with witty aduice, by what
meanes his acceſſe might be much neerer to her, and their communication
concealed from any diſcouery, the ſcituation of the place, and benefit
of time duly conſidered. Night muſt be the cloud to their amorous concluſion,
and therefore, ſo much thereof being ſpent, as was thought conuenient,
he returned thither againe, prouided of ſuch grappling-yrons, as
is required when men will clamber, made faſt vnto his hands and knees;
by their helpe he attained to the top of the wall, whence diſcending
downe into the Garden, there he found the maine yard of a ſhip, whereof
before ſhee had giuen him inſtruction, and rearing it vp againſt her chamber
window, made that his meanes for aſcending thereto, ſhee hauing left
it open for his eaſier entrance.
You cannot denie (faire Ladies) but here was a very hopefull beginning,
and likely to haue as happy an ending, were it not true Loues fatall
miſery, euen in the very height of promiſed aſſurance, to be thwarted by
vnkind preuention, and in ſuch manner as I will tell you. This night, intended
for our Louers meeting, proued diſaſtrous and dreadfull to them
both: for the King, who at the firſt ſight of Reſtituta, was highly pleaſed
with her excelling beauty; gaue order to his Eunuches and other women,
that a coſtly bathe ſhould be prepared for her, and therein to let her weare
away that night, becauſe the next day he intended to viſit her. Reſtituta
being royally conducted from her Chamber to the Bathe, attended on
with Torch-light, as if ſhee had been a Queene: none remained there behind,
but ſuch women as waited on her, and the Guards without, which
watched the Chamber.
No ſooner was poore Guian aloft at the window, calling ſoftly to his
Miſtreſſe, as if ſhe had beene there; but he was ouer-heard by the women
in the darke, and immediately apprehended by the Guard, who forthwith
brought him before the Lord Marſhall, where being examined, and he auouching,
that Reſtituta was his elected wife, and for her he had preſumed
in that manner; cloſely was he kept in priſon till the next morning. When
he came into the Kings preſence, and there boldly iuſtified the goodneſſe
of his cauſe: Restituta likewiſe was ſent for, who no ſooner ſaw her deare
Loue Guian, but ſhee ran and caught him faſt about the necke, kiſſing him
in teares, and greeuing not a little at his hard fortune. Hereat the King
grew exceedingly enraged, loathing and hating her now, much more then
formerly he did affect her, and hauing himſelfe ſeene, by what ſtrange
meanes he did climbe ouer the wall, and then mounted to her Chamber
window; he was extreamely impatient, and could not otherwiſe be perſwaded,
but that their meetings thus had beene very many.
Forthwith he ſentenced them both with death, commanding, that
they ſhould be conueyed thence to Palermo, and there (being ſtript ſtarke
naked) be bound to a ſtake backe to backe, and ſo to ſtand the full ſpace of
nine houres, to ſee if any could take knowledge, of whence, or what they
were; then afterward, to be conſumed with fire. The ſentence of death,
did not ſo much daunt or diſmay the poore Louers, as the vnciuill and
vnſightly manner, which (in feare of the Kings wrathfull diſpleaſure) no
man durſt preſume to contradict. Wherefore, as he had commanded, ſo
were they carried thence to Palermo, and bound naked to a ſtake in the
open Market place, and (before their eyes) the fire and wood brought,
which was to conſume them, according to the houre as the King had
appointed. You need not make any queſtion, what an huge concourſe
of people were ſoone aſſembled together, to behold ſuch a ſad and wofull
ſpectacle, euen the whole City of Palermo, both men and women. The
men were ſtricken with admiration, beholding the vnequalled beauty of
faire Restituta, & the ſelfe ſame paſſion poſſeſſed the women, ſeeing Guian
to be ſuch a goodly and compleat young man: but the poore infortunate
Louers themſelues, they ſtood with their lookes deiected to the ground,
being much pittied of all, but no way to be holpen or reſcued by any, awaiting
when the happy houre would come, to finiſh both their ſhame
and liues together.
During the time of this tragicall expectation, the fame of this publike
execution being noyſed abroade, calling all people farre and neere to behold
it; it came to the eare of Don Rogiero de Oria, a man of much admired
valour, and then the Lord high Admirall of Sicily, who came himſelfe in
perſon, to the place appointed for their death. Firſt he obſerued the Mayden,
confeſſing her (in his ſoule) to be a beauty beyond all compare. Then
looking on the young man, thus he ſaide within himſelfe: If the inward
endowments of the mind, doe paralell the outward perfections of body;
the World cannot yeeld a more compleate man. Now, as good natures
are quickly incited to compaſſion (eſpecially in caſes almoſt commanding
it) and compaſſion knocking at the doore of the ſoule, doth quicken the
memory with many paſſed recordations: ſo this noble Admirall, aduiſedly
beholding poore condemned Guion, conceiued, that he had ſomewhat
ſeene him before this inſtant, and vpon this perſwaſion (euen as if diuine
vertue had tutured his tongue) he ſaide: Is not thy name Guion di Procida?
Marke now, how quickly miſery can receiue comfort, vpon ſo poore
and ſilly a queſtion; for Guion began to eleuate his deiected countenance,
and looking on the Admirall, returned him this anſwere. Sir, heretofore
I haue been the man which you ſpake of; but now, both that name and man
muſt die with me. What misfortune (quoth the Admirall) hath thus vnkindly
croſt thee? Loue (anſwered Guion) and the Kings diſpleaſure. Then
the Admirall would needs know the whole hiſtory at large, which briefly
was related to him, and hauing heard how all had happened; as he was
turning his Horſe to ride away thence, Guion called to him, ſaying. Good
my Lord, entreate one fauour for me, if poſſible it may be. What is that?
replyed the Admirall. You ſee Sir (quoth Guion) that I am very ſhortly
to breathe my laſt; all the grace which I doe moſt humbly entreate, is, that
as I am here with this chaſte Virgin, (whom I honour and loue beyond
my life) and miſerably bound backe to backe: our faces may be turned
each to other, to the end, that when the fire ſhall finiſh my life, by looking
on her, my ſoule may take her flight in full felicity. The Admirall ſmyling,
ſaide; I will doe for thee what I can, and (perhaps) thou mayeſt ſo
long looke on her, as thou wilt be weary, and deſire to looke off her.
At his departure, he commanded them that had the charge of this execution,
to proceede no further, vntill they heard more from the King, to
whom hee gallopped immediately, and although hee beheld him to be
very angerly moued; yet he ſpared not to ſpeake in this manner. Sir, wherin
haue thoſe poore young couple offended you, that are ſo ſhamefully
to be burnt at Palermo? The King told him: whereto the Admirall (purſuing
ſtill his purpoſe) thus replyed. Beleeue me Sir, if true loue be an offence,
then theirs may be termed to be one; and albeit it did deſerue death,
yet farre be it from thee to inflict it on them: for as faults doe iuſtly require
puniſhment, ſo doe good turnes as equally merit grace and requitall.
Knoweſt thou what and who they are, whom thou haſt ſo diſhonourably
condemned to the fire? Not I, quoth the King. Why then I will tell
thee, anſwered the Admirall, that thou mayeſt take the better knowledge
of them, and forbeare hereafter, to be ſo ouer-violently tranſported with
anger.
The young Gentleman, is the Sonne to Landolfo di Procida, the onely
Brother to Lord Iohn di Procida, by whoſe meanes thou becameſt Lord
and King of this Countrey. The faire young Damoſell, is the Daughter
to Marino Bolgaro, whoſe power extendeth ſo farre, as to preſerue thy prerogatiue
in Iſchia, which (but for him) had long ſince beene out-rooted
there. Beſide, theſe two maine motiues, to challenge iuſtly grace and fauour
from thee; they are in the floure and pride of their youth, hauing
long continued in loyall loue together, and compelled by feruency of endeared
affection, not any wil to diſpleaſe thy Maieſty: they haue offended
(if it may be termed an offence to loue, and in ſuch louely young people
as they are.) Canſt thou then find in thine heart to let them die, whom
thou rather oughteſt to honour, and recompence with no meane rewards?
When the King had heard this, and beleeued for a certainty, that the
Admirall told him nothing but truth: he appointed not onely, that they
ſhould proceede no further, but alſo was exceeding ſorrowfull for what
he had done, ſending preſently to haue them releaſed from the Stake, and
honourably to be brought before him. Being thus enſtructed in their ſeuerall
qualities, and ſtanding in duty obliged, to recompence the wrong
which he had done, with reſpectiue honours: he cauſed them to be cloathed
in royall garments, and knowing them to be knit in vnity of ſoule;
the like he did by marrying them ſollemnly together, and beſtowing many
rich gifts and preſents on them, ſent them honourably attented home
to Iſchia; where they were with much ioy and comfort receiued, and liued
long after in great felicity.
Theodoro falling in loue with Violenta, the Daughter to his Maſter, named Amarigo, and ſhee conceiuing with childe by him; was condemned to be hanged. As they were leading him to the Gallowes, beating and miſuſing him all the way: he happened to be knowne by his owne Father, whereupon hee was releaſed, and afterward enioyed Violenta in marriage.
The ſeuenth Nouell.
Wherein is declared, the ſundry trauels and perillous accidents, occaſioned by thoſe two powerfull Commanders, Loue and Fortune, the inſulting Tyrants ouer humaine life.
GReatly were the Ladies minds perplexed, when they heard, that the
two poore Louers were in danger to be burned: but hearing afterward
of their happy deliuerance, for which they were as ioyfull againe;
vpon the concluding of the Nouell, the Queene looked on Madam Lauretta,
enioyning her to tell the next Tale, which willingly ſhe vndertooke
to doe, and thus began.
Faire Ladies, at ſuch time as the good King William reigned in Sicily,
there liued within the ſame Dominions a young Gentleman, named Signior
Amarigo, Abbot of Trapani, who (among his other worldly bleſſings,
commonly termed the goods of Fortune) was not vnfurniſhed of children;
and therefore hauing neede of ſeruants, he made his prouiſion of
them as beſt he might. At that time, certaine Gallies of Geneway Pyrates
comming from the Eaſterne parts, which coaſting along Armenia, had
taken diuers children; he bought ſome of them, thinking that they were
Turkes. They all reſembling clowniſh Peazants, yet there was one among
them, who ſeemed to be of more tractable and gentle nature, yea,
and of a more affable countenance then any of the reſt, being named,
Theodoro: who growing on in yeeres, (albeit he liued in the condition of
a ſeruant) was educated among Amarigoes Children, and as enſtructed rather
by nature, then accident, his conditions were very much commended,
as alſo the feature of his body, which proued ſo highly pleaſing to
his Maſter Amarigo, that he made him a free man, and imagining him to
be a Turke, cauſed him to be baptized, and named Pedro, creating him ſuperintendent
of all his affaires, and repoſing his chiefeſt truſt in him.
As the other Children of Signior Amarigo grew in yeeres and ſtature,
ſo did a Daughter of his, named Violenta, a very goodly and beautifull
Damoſell, ſomewhat ouer-long kept from marriage by her Fathers couetouſneſſe,
and caſting an eye of good liking on poore Pedro. Now, albeit
ſhee loued him very dearely, and all his behauiour was moſt pleaſing to
her, yet maiden modeſty forbad her to reueale it, till Loue (too long concealed)
muſt needes diſcloſe it ſelfe. Which Pedro at the length tooke
notice of, and grew ſo forward towards her in equality of affection, as the
very ſight of her was his onely happineſſe. Yet very fearefull he was, leaſt
it ſhould be noted, either by any of the Houſe, or the Maiden her ſelfe:
who yet well obſerued it, and to her no meane contentment, as it appeared
no leſſe (on the other ſide) to honeſt Pedro.
While thus they loued together meerely in dumbe ſhewes, not daring
to ſpeake to each other, (though nothing more deſired) to find ſome eaſe
in this their oppreſſing paſſions: Fortune, euen as if ſhee pittied their ſo
long languiſhing, enſtructed them how to find out a way, whereby they
might both better releeue themſelues. Signior Amarigo, about ſome two
or three miles diſtance from Trapani, had a Countrey-Houſe or Farme,
whereto his Wife, with her Daughter and ſome other women, vſed oftentimes
to make their reſort, as it were in ſportfull recreation; Pedro alwayes
being diligent to man them thither. One time among the reſt,
it came to paſſe, as often it falleth out in the Summer ſeaſon, that the faire
Skie became ſuddenly ouer-clouded, euen as they were returning home
towards Trapani, threatning a ſtorme of raine to ouertake them, except
they made the ſpeedier haſte.
Pedro, who was young, and likewiſe Violenta, went farre more lightly
then her Mother and her company, as much perhaps prouoked by loue,
as feare of the ſudden raine falling, and paced on ſo faſt before them, that
they were wholly out of ſight. After many flaſhes of lightning, and a
few dreadfull clappes of thunder, there fell ſuch a tempeſtuous ſhower of
hayle, as compelled the Mother and her traine to ſhelter themſelues in a
poore Countrey-mans Cottage. Pedro and Violenta hauing no other refuge,
ranne likewiſe into a poore Sheepe-coate, ſo ouer ruined, as it was
in danger to fall on their heads; for no body dwelt in it, neither ſtood any
other houſe neere it, and it was ſcarcely any ſhelter for them, howbeit,
neceſſity enforceth to make ſhift with the meaneſt. The ſtorme encreaſing
more & more, and they coueting to auoide it ſo well as they could, ſighes
and drie hemmes were often inter-uented, as dumbly (before) they were
wont to doe, when willingly they could affoord another kind of ſpeaking.
At laſt Pedro tooke heart, and ſaide: I would this ſhower would neuer
ceaſe, that I might be alwayes where I am. The like could I wiſh, anſwered
Violenta, ſo we were in a better place of ſafety. Theſe wiſhes drew on
other gentle language, with modeſt kiſſes and embraces, the onely eaſe to
poore Louers ſoules; ſo that the raine ceaſed not, till they had taken order
for their oftner conuerſing, and abſolute plighting of their faithes together.
By this time the ſtorme was fairely ouer blowne, and they attending
on the way, till the Mother and the reſt were come, with whom they
returned to Trapani, where by wiſe and prouident meanes, they often conferred
in priuate together, and enioyed the benefit of their amorous deſires,
yet free from any ill ſurmiſe or ſuſpition.
But, as Louers felicities are ſildome permanent, without one encountring
croſſe or other: ſo theſe ſtolne pleaſures of Pedro and Violenta, met
with as ſowre a ſauce in the farewell. For, ſhee proued to be conceiued
with childe, then which could befall them no heauier affliction, and Pedro
fearing to looſe his life therefore, determined immediate flight, and reuealed
his purpoſe to Violenta. Which when ſhe heard, ſhe told him plainly,
that if he fled, forth-with ſhee would kill her ſelfe. Alas deare Loue
(quoth Pedro) with what reaſon can you wiſh my tarrying here? This
conception of yours, doth diſcouer our offence, which a Fathers pity may
eaſily pardon in you: but I being his ſeruant and vaſſall, ſhall be puniſhed
both for your ſinne and mine, becauſe he will haue no mercy on me. Content
thy ſelfe Pedro, replyed Violenta, I will take ſuch order for mine owne
offence, by the diſcreete counſell of my louing Mother, that no blame
ſhall any way be laide on thee, or ſo much as a ſurmiſe, except thou wilt
fondly betray thy ſelfe. If you can doe ſo, anſwered Pedro, and conſtantly
maintaine your promiſe; I will not depart, but ſee that you proue to be ſo
good as your word.
Violenta, who had concealed her amiſſe ſo long as ſhee could, and ſaw
no other remedy, but now at laſt it muſt needes be diſcouered; went priuately
to her Mother, and (in teares) reuealed her infirmity, humbly crauing
her pardon, and furtherance in hiding it from her Father. The Mother
being extraordinarily diſpleaſed, chiding her with many ſharpe and
angry ſpeeches, would needes know with whom ſhee had thus offended.
The Daughter (to keepe Pedro from any detection) forged a Tale of her
owne braine, farre from any truth indeede, which her Mother verily beleeuing,
and willing to preſerue her Daughter from ſhame, as alſo the
fierce anger of her Husband, he being a man of very implacable nature:
conueyed her to the Countrey-Farme, whither Signior Amarigo ſildome
or neuer reſorted, intending (vnder the ſhadow of ſickneſſe) to let her lie
in there, without the leaſt ſuſpition of any in Trapani.
Sinne and ſhame can neuer be ſo cloſely carried, or clouded with the
greateſt cunning; but truth hath a loop-light whereby to diſcouer it, euen
when it ſuppoſeth it ſelfe in the ſureſt ſafety. For, on the very day of her
deliuerance, at ſuch time as the Mother, and ſome few friends (ſworne to
ſecrecy) were about the buſineſſe: Signior Amarigo, hauing beene in company
of other Gentlemen, to flye his Hawke at the Riuer, vpon a ſudden,
(but very vnfortunately, albeit he was alone by himſelfe) ſtept into his
Farme houſe, euen to the next roome where the women were, and heard
the new-borne Babe to cry, whereat maruelling not a little, he called for
his Wife, to know what young childe cryed in his Houſe. The Mother,
amazed at his ſo ſtrange comming thither, which neuer before he had vſed
to doe, and pittying the wofull diſtreſſe of her Daughter, which now
could be no longer couered, reuealed what happened to Violenta. But
he, being nothing ſo raſh in beliefe, as his Wife was, made anſwere, that it
was impoſſible for his Daughter to be conceiued with childe, becauſe he
neuer obſerued the leaſt ſigne of loue in her to any man whatſoeuer, and
therefore he would be ſatisfied in the truth, as ſhee expected any fauour
from him, for elſe there was no other way but death.
The Mother laboured by all meanes ſhee could deuiſe, to pacifie her
Husbands fury, which proued all in vaine; for being thus impatiently incenſed,
he drew foorth his Sword, and ſtepping with it drawne into the
Chamber (where ſhe had been deliuered of a goodly Sonne) he ſaid vnto
her. Either tell me who is the Father of this Baſtard, or thou and it ſhall
periſh both together. Poore Violenta, leſſe reſpecting her owne life, then
ſhe did the childes; forgot her ſollemne promiſe made to Pedro, and diſcouered
all. Which when Amarigo had heard, he grew ſo deſperately enraged,
that hardly he could forbeare from killing her. But after he had
ſpoken what his fury enſtructed him, hee mounted on Horſe-backe againe,
ryding backe to Trapani, where he diſcloſed the iniury which Pedro
had done him, to a noble Gentleman, named Signior Conrado, who
was Captaine for the King ouer the City.
Before poore Pedro could haue any intelligence, or ſo much as ſuſpected
any treachery againſt him; he was ſuddenly apprehended, and being
called in queſtion, ſtood not on any deniall, but confeſſed truly what he
had done: whereupon, within ſome few dayes after, he was condemned
by the Captaine, to be whipt to the place of execution, and afterward to
be hanged by the necke. Signior Amarigo, becauſe he would cut off (at one
and the ſame time) not onely the liues of the two poore Louers, but their
childes alſo; as a franticke man, violently carried from all ſenſe of compaſſion,
euen when Pedro was led and whipt to his death: he mingled ſtrong
poyſon in a Cup of wine, deliuering it to a truſty ſeruant of his owne, and
a naked Rapier withall, ſpeaking to him in this manner. Goe carry theſe
two preſents to my late Daughter Violenta, and tell her from me, that in
this inſtant houre, two ſeuerall kinds of death are offered vnto her, and
one of them ſhe muſt make choyce of, either to drinke the poyſon, and ſo
die, or to run her body on this Rapiers point, which if ſhe denie to doe,
ſhe ſhall be haled to the publike market place, and preſently be burned in
the ſight of her lewd companion, according as ſhee hath worthily deſerued.
When thou haſt deliuered her this meſſage, take her baſtard brat,
ſo lately ſince borne, and daſh his braines out againſt the walles, and afterward
throw him to my Dogges to feede on.
When the Father had giuen this cruell ſentence, both againſt his own
Daughter, and her young Sonne, the ſeruant, readier to doe euill, then any
good, went to the place where his Daughter was kept. Poore condemned
Pedro, (as you haue heard) was ledde whipt to the lybbet, and paſſing (as
it pleaſed the Captaines Officers to guide him) by a faire Inne: at the ſame
time were lodged there three chiefe perſons of Armenia, whom the King
of the Countrey had ſent to Rome, as Ambaſſadours to the Popes Holineſſe,
to negociate about an important buſineſſe neerely concerning the
King and State. Repoſing there for ſome few dayes, as being much wearied
with their iourney, and highly honoured by the Gentlemen of Trapani,
eſpecially Signior Amarigo; theſe Ambaſſadours ſtanding in their
Chamber window, heard the wofull lamentations of Pedro in his paſſage
by.
Pedro was naked from the middle vpward, and his hands bound faſt behind
him, but being well obſerued by one of the Ambaſſadours, a man aged,
and of great authority, named Phineo: he eſpied a great red ſpot vppon
his breaſt, not painted, or procured by his puniſhment, but naturally
imprinted in the fleſh, which women (in theſe parts) terme the Roſe. Vppon
the ſight hereof, he ſuddenly remembred a Sonne of his owne, which
was ſtolne from him about fifteene yeeres before, by Pyrates on the Seacoaſt
of Laiazzo, neuer hearing any tydings of him afterward. Vpon further
conſideration, and compairing his Sonnes age with the likelyhood
of this poore wretched mans; thus he conferred with his owne thoughts.
If my Sonne (quoth he) be liuing, his age is equall to this mans time, and
by the redde blemiſh on his breſt, it plainely ſpeakes him for to be my
Sonne.
Moreouer, thus he conceiued, that if it were he, he could not but remember
his owne name, his Fathers, and the Armenian Language; wherefore,
when hee was iuſt oppoſite before the window, hee called aloud to
him, ſaying: Theodoro. Pedro hearing the voyce, preſently lifted vp his
head, and Phineo ſpeaking Armenian, ſaide: Of whence art thou, and what
is thy Fathers name? The Sergeants (in reuerence to the Lord Ambaſſadour)
ſtayed a while, till Pedro had returned his anſwer, who ſaide. I am
an Armenian borne, Sonne to one Phineo, and was brought hither I cannot
tell by whom. Phineo hearing this, knew then aſſuredly, that this was
the ſame Sonne which he had loſt; wherefore, the teares ſtanding in his
eyes with conceite of ioy: downe he deſcended from the window, and the
other Ambaſſadours with him, running in among the Sergeants to embrace
his Sonne, and caſting his owne rich Cloake about his whipt body,
entreating them to forbeare and proceed no further, till they heard what
command he ſhould returne withall vnto them; which very willingly they
promiſed to doe.
Already, by the generall rumour diſperſed abroade, Phineo had vnderſtood
the occaſion, why Pedro was thus puniſhed, and ſentenced to be
hanged; wherefore, accompanied with his fellow Ambaſſadours, and all
their attending traine, he went to Signior Conrado, and ſpake thus to him.
My Lord, he whom you haue ſent to death as a ſlaue, is a free Gentleman
borne, and my Sonne, able to make her amends whom he hath diſhonored,
by taking her in mariage as his lawfull Wife. Let me therefore entreate
you, to make ſtay of the execution, vntill it may be knowne, whether
ſhe will accept him as her Husband, or no; leaſt (if ſhe be ſo pleaſed) you
offend directly againſt your owne Law. When Signior Conrado heard,
that Pedro was Sonne to the Lord Ambaſſadour, he wondered thereat
not a little, and being ſomewhat aſhamed of his fortunes errour, confeſſed,
that the claime of Phineo was conformable to Law, and ought not to
be denied him; going preſently to the Councell Chamber, ſending for
Signior Amarigo immediately thither, and acquainting him fully with the
caſe.
Amarigo, who beleeued that his Daughter and her Child were already
dead, was the wofulleſt man in the World, for his ſo raſh proceeding,
knowing very well, that if ſhee were not dead, the ſcandall would eaſily
be wipt away with credit. Wherefore he ſent in all poaſt haſte, to the
place where his Daughter lay, that if his command were not already executed,
by no meanes to haue it done at all. He who went on this ſpeedy
errand, found there Signior Amarigoes ſeruant ſtanding before Violenta,
with the Cup of poyſon in his one hand, and the drawne Rapier in the
other, reproaching herewith very foule and iniurious ſpeeches, becauſe
ſhee had delayed the time ſo long, and would not accept the one or other,
ſtriuing (by violence) to make her take the one. But hearing his Maſters
command to the contrary, he left her, and returned backe to him, certifying
him how the caſe ſtood.
Moſt highly pleaſed was Amarigo with theſe glad newes, and going to
the Ambaſſadour Phineo, in teares excuſed himſelfe (ſo well as he could)
for his ſeuerity, and crauing pardon; aſſured him, that if Theodoro would
accept his Daughter in mariage, willingly he would beſtow her on him.
Phineo allowed his excuſes to be tollerable, and ſaide beſide; If my Sonne
will not mary your Daughter, then let the ſentence of death be executed
on him. Amarigo and Phineo being thus accorded, they went to poore
Theodoro, fearefully looking euery minute when he ſhould die, yet ioyfull
that he had found his Father, who preſently moued the queſtion to him.
Theodoro hearing that Violenta ſhould be his Wife, if he would ſo accept
her: was ouercome with ſuch exceeding ioy, as if he had leapt out of hell
into Paradiſe; confeſſing, that no greater felicity could befall him, if Violenta
her ſelfe were ſo well pleaſed as he.
The like motion was made to her, to vnderſtand her diſpoſition in this
caſe, who hearing what good hap had befalne Theodoro, and now in like
manner muſt happen to her: whereas not long before, when two ſuch violent
deathes were prepared for her, and one of them ſhe muſt needes embrace,
ſhee accounted her miſery beyond all other womens, but ſhee now
thought her ſelfe aboue all in happineſſe, if ſhe might be wife to her beloued
Theodoro, ſubmitting her ſelfe wholy to her Fathers diſpoſing. The
mariage being agreed on betweene them, it was celebrated with great
pompe and ſollemnity, a generall Feaſt being made for all the Citizens,
and the young maried couple nouriſhed vp their ſweete Son, which grew
to be a very comely childe.
After that the Embaſſie was diſpatched at Rome, and Phineo (with the
reſt) was returned thither againe; Violenta did reuerence him as her owne
naturall Father, and he was not a little proud of ſo louely a Daughter, beginning
a freſh feaſting againe, and continuing the ſame a whole moneth
together. Within ſome ſhort while after, a Galley being fairely furniſhed
for the purpoſe, Phineo, his Sonne, Daughter, and their young Son went
aboard, ſayling away thence to Laiazzo, where afterward they liued long
in much tranquility.
Anaſtaſio, a Gentleman of the Family of the Honeſti, by louing the Daughter to Signior Paulo Trauerſario, lauiſhly wasted a great part of his ſubſtance, without receiuing any loue from her againe. By perſwaſion of ſome of his kindred and friends, he went to a Countrey dwelling of his, called Chiaſſo, where he ſaw a Knight deſperately purſue a young Damoſell, whom he ſlew, and afterward gaue her to be deuoured by his Hounds. Anaſtaſio inuited his friends, and hers alſo whom he ſo dearely loued, to take part of a dinner with him, who likewiſe ſaw the ſame Damoſell ſo torne in peeces: which his vnkind Loue perceiuing, and fearing leaſt the like ill fortune ſhould happen to her; ſhee accepted Anaſtaſio to be her Husband.
The eighth Nouell.
Declaring, that Loue not onely makes a man prodigall, but alſo an enemy to himſelfe. Moreouer, aduenture oftentimes bringeth ſuch matters to paſſe, as wit and cunning in man can neuer comprehend.
SO ſoone as Madam Lauretta held her peace, Madam Philomena (by the
Queenes command) began, and ſaide. Louely Ladies, as pitty is moſt
highly commended in our Sexe, euen ſo is cruelty in vs as ſeuerely reuenged
(oftentimes) by diuine ordination. Which that you may the better
know, and learne likewiſe to ſhun, as a deadly euill; I purpoſe to make apparant
by a Nouell, no leſſe full of compaſſion, then delectable.
Rauenna being a very ancient City in Romania, there dwelt ſometime a
great number of worthy Gentlemen, among whom I am to ſpeake of one
more eſpecially, named Anastaſio, deſcended from the Family of the Honeſti,
who by the death of his Father, and an Vnkle of his, was left extraordinarily
abounding in riches; and growing to yeeres fitting for mariage,
(as young Gallants are eaſily apt enough to doe) he became enamoured
of a very beautifull Gentlewoman, who was Daughter to Signior Paulo
Trauerſario, one of the moſt ancient and noble Families in all the Countrey.
Nor made he any doubt, but by his meanes and induſtrious endeuour,
to deriue affection from her againe; for hee carried himſelfe like a
braue minded Gentleman, liberall in his expences, honeſt and affable in
all his actions, which commonly are the true notes of a good nature, and
highly to be commended in any man. But, howſoeuer Fortune became
his enemy, theſe laudable parts of manhood did not any way friend him,
but rather appeared hurtfull to him: ſo cruell, vnkind, and almoſt meerely
ſauage did ſhe ſhew her ſelfe to him; perhaps in pride of her ſingular beauty,
or preſuming on her nobility by birth, both which are on her blemiſhes,
then ornaments in a woman, eſpecially when they be abuſed.
The harſh and vnciuill vſage in her, grew very diſtaſtefull to Anastaſio,
and ſo vnſufferable, that after a long time of fruitleſſe ſeruice, requited ſtill
with nothing but coy diſdain; deſperate reſolutions entred into his brain,
and often he was minded to kill himſelfe. But better thoughts ſupplanting
thoſe furious paſſions, he abſtained from any ſuch violent act; & gouerned
by more manly conſideration, determined, that as ſhe hated him,
he would require her with the like, if he could: wherein he became altogether
deceiued, becauſe as his hopes grew to a dayly decaying, yet his
loue enlarged it ſelfe more and more.
Thus Anaſtaſio perſeuering ſtill in his booteleſſe affection, and his expences
not limited within any compaſſe; it appeared in the iudgement of
his Kindred and Friends, that he was falne into a mighty conſumption,
both of his body and meanes. In which reſpect, many times they aduiſed
him to leaue the City of Rauenna, and liue in ſome other place for ſuch
a while; as might ſet a more moderate ſtint vpon his ſpendings, and bridle
the indiſcreete courſe of his loue, the onely fuell which fed this furious
fire.
Anaſtaſio held out thus a long time, without lending an eare to ſuch
friendly counſell: but in the end, he was ſo neerely followed by them, as
being no longer able to deny them, he promiſed to accompliſh their requeſt.
Whereupon, making ſuch extraordinary preparation, as if he wer
to ſet thence for France or Spaine, or elſe into ſome further diſtant countrey:
he mounted on horſebacke, and accompanied with ſome few of his
familiar friends, departed from Rauenna, and rode to a country dwelling
houſe of his owne, about three or foure miles diſtant from the Cittie,
which was called Chiaſſo, and there (vpon a very goodly greene) erecting
diuers Tents and Pauillions, ſuch as great perſons make vſe of in the time
of a Progreſſe: he ſaid to his friends, which came with him thither, that
there hee determined to make his abiding, they all returning backe vnto
Rauenna, and might come to viſite him againe ſo often as they pleaſed.
Now, it came to paſſe, that about the beginning of May, it being then
a very milde and ſerrene ſeaſon, and he leading there a much more magnificent
life, then euer he had done before, inuiting diuers to dine with
him this day, and as many to morrow, and not to leaue him till after ſupper:
vpon the ſodaine, falling into remembrance of his cruell Miſtris, hee
commanded all his ſeruants to forbeare his company, and ſuffer him to
walke alone by himſelfe awhile, becauſe he had occaſion of priuate meditations,
wherein he would not (by any meanes) be troubled. It was then
about the ninth houre of the day, and he walking on ſolitary all alone, hauing
gone ſome halfe miles diſtance from his Tents, entred into a Groue
of Pine-trees, neuer minding dinner time, or any thing elſe, but only the
vnkind requitall of his loue.
Sodainly he heard the voice of a woman, ſeeming to make moſt mournfull
complaints, which breaking of his ſilent conſiderations, made him to
lift vp his head, to know the reaſon of this noiſe. When he ſaw himſelfe ſo
farre entred into the Groue, before he could imagine where he was; hee
looked amazedly round about him, and out of a little thicket of buſhes &
briars, round engirt with ſpreading trees, hee eſpyed a young Damoſell
come running towards him, naked from the middle vpward, her haire diſheuelled
on her ſhoulders, and her faire skinne rent and torne with the
briars and brambles, ſo that the blood ran trickling downe mainly; ſhee
weeping, wringing her hands, and crying out for mercy ſo lowde as ſhee
could. Two fierce Blood-hounds alſo followed ſwiftly after, and where
their teeth tooke hold, did moſt cruelly bite her. Laſt of all (mounted on
a luſty blacke Courſer) came gallopping a Knight, with a very ſterne and
angry countenance, holding a drawne ſhort Sword in his hand, giuing
her very vile and dreadfull ſpeeches, and threatning euerie minute to
kill her.
This ſtrange and vncouth ſight, bred in him no meane admiration, as
alſo kinde compaſſion to the vnfortunate woman; out of which compaſſion,
ſprung an earneſt deſire, to deliuer her (if he could) from a death ſo
full of anguiſh and horror: but ſeeing himſelfe to be without Armes, hee
ran and pluckt vp the plant of a Tree, which handling as if it had beene a
ſtaffe, he oppoſed himſelfe againſt the Dogges and the Knight, who ſeeing
him comming, cryed out in this manner to him. Anaſtaſio, put not
thy ſelfe in any oppoſition, but referre to my Hounds and me, to puniſh
this wicked woman as ſhe hath iuſtly deſerued. And in ſpeaking theſe
words, the Hounds tooke faſt hold on her body, ſo ſtaying her, vntill the
Knight was come neerer to her, and alighted from his horſe: when Anaſtaſio
(after ſome other angry ſpeeches) ſpake thus vnto him. I cannot tell
what or who thou art, albeit thou takeſt ſuch knowledge of me: yet I muſt
ſay, that it is meere cowardize in a Knight, being armed as thou art, to offer
to kill a naked woman, and make thy dogges thus to ſeize on her, as if
ſhe were a ſauage beaſt; therefore beleeue me, I will defend her ſo farre
as I am able.
Anaſtaſio, anſwered the Knight, I am of the ſame City as thou art, and
do well remember, that thou waſt a little Ladde, when I (who was then
named Guido Anaſtaſio, and thine Vnckle) became as intirely in loue with
this woman, as now thou art of Paulo Trauerſarioes daughter. But through
her coy diſdaine and cruelty, ſuch was my heauy fate, that deſperately I
ſlew my ſelfe with this ſhort ſword which thou beholdeſt in mine hand:
for which raſh ſinfull deede, I was and am condemned to eternall puniſhment.
This wicked woman, reioycing immeaſurably in mine vnhappie
death, remained no long time aliue after me, and for her mercileſſe ſinne
of cruelty, and taking pleaſure in my oppreſſing torments; dying vnrepentant,
and in pride of her ſcorne, ſhe had the like ſentence of condemnation
pronounced on her, and ſent to the ſame place where I was tormented.
There the three impartiall Iudges, impoſed this further infliction on
vs both; namely, that ſhee ſhould flye in this manner before mee, and I
(who loued her ſo deerely while I liued) muſt purſue her as my deadly enemy,
not like a woman that had any taſte of loue in her. And ſo often
as I can ouertake her, I am to kill her with this ſword, the ſame Weapon
wherewith I ſlew my ſelfe. Then am I enioyned, therewith to open her
accurſed body, and teare out her hard and frozen heart, with her other inwards,
as now thou ſeeſt me doe, which I giue vnto my hounds to feede
on. Afterward, ſuch is the appointment of the ſupreame powers, that
ſhe re-aſſumeth life againe, euen as if ſhe had not bene dead at all, and falling
to the ſame kinde of flight, I with my houndes am ſtill to follow her,
without any reſpite or intermiſſion. Euery Friday, and iuſt at this houre,
our courſe is this way, where ſhee ſuffereth the iuſt puniſhment inflicted
on her. Nor do we reſt any of the other dayes, but are appointed vnto other
places, where ſhe cruelly executed her malice againſt me, being now
(of her dear affectionate frend) ordained to be her endleſſe enemy, and to
purſue her in this manner) for ſo many yeeres, as ſhe exerciſed monthes
of cruelty towards me. Hinder me not then, in being the executioner of
diuine iuſtice; for all thy interpoſition is but in vaine, in ſeeking to croſſe
the appointment of ſupreame powers.
Anaſtaſio hauing attentiuely heard all this diſcourſe, his haire ſtoode
vpright like Porcupines quils, and his ſoule was ſo ſhaken with the terror,
that he ſtept back to ſuffer the Knight ro doe what he was enioyned, looking
yet with milde commiſſeration on the poore woman. Who kneeling
moſt humbly before the Knight, & ſternly ſeiſed on by the two blood
hounds, he opened her breſt with his weapon, drawing foorth her heart
and bowels, which inſtantly he threw to the dogges, and they deuoured
them very greedily. Soone after, the Damoſell (as if none of this puniſhment
had bene inflicted on her) ſtarted vp ſodainly, running amaine towards
the Sea ſhore, and the Hounds ſwiftly following her, as the Knight
did the like, after he had taken his ſword, and was mounted on horſeback;
ſo that Anastaſio had ſoon loſt all ſight of them, and could not geſſe what
was become of them.
After he had heard and obſerued all theſe things, he ſtoode awhile as
confounded with feare and pitty, like a ſimple ſilly man, hoodwinkt with
his owne paſsions, not knowing the ſubtle enemies cunning illuſions, in
offering falſe ſuggeſtions to the ſight, to worke his owne ends thereby, &
encreaſe the number of his deceiued ſeruants. Forthwith hee perſwaded
himſelf, that he might make good vſe of this womans tormenting, ſo iuſtly
impoſed on the Knight to proſecute, if thus it ſhould continue ſtill euery
Friday. Wherefore, ſetting a good note or marke vpon the place, hee
returned backe to his owne people, and at ſuch time as hee thought conuenient,
ſent for diuers of his kindred and friends from Rauenna, who being
preſent with him, thus hee ſpake to them.
Deare Kinſmen and Friends, ye haue a long while importuned mee, to
diſcontinue my ouer-doating loue to her, whom you all think, and I find
to be my mortall enemy: as alſo, to giue ouer my lauiſh expences, wherein
I confeſſe my ſelfe too prodigall; both which requeſts of yours, I will
condiſcend to, prouided, that you wil performe one gracious fauour for
mee; Namely, that on Friday next, Signior Paulo Trauerſario, his wife,
daughter, with all other women linked in linage to them, and ſuch beſide
onely as you ſhall pleaſe to appoynt, will vouchſafe to accept a dinner
heere with mee; as for the reaſon thereto moouing mee, you ſhall then
more at large be acquainted withall. This appeared no difficult matter
for them to accompliſh: wherefore, being returned to Rauenna, and as
they found the time anſwerable to their purpoſe, they inuited ſuch as Anaſtaſio
had appointed thē. And although they found it ſomwhat
•
n hard
matter, to gain her company whom he ſo deerely affected; yet notwithſtanding,
the other women won her along with them.
A moſt magnificent dinner had Anaſtaſio prouided, and the tables wer
couered vnder the Pine-trees, where hee ſaw the cruell Lady ſo purſued
and ſlaine: directing the gueſts ſo in their ſeating, that the yong Gentlewoman
his vnkinde Miſtreſſe, ſate with her face oppoſite vnto the place,
where the diſmall ſpectacle was to be ſeene. About the cloſing vp of dinner,
they beganne to heare the noiſe of the poore proſecuted Woman,
which droue them all to much admiration; deſiring to know what it was,
and no one reſoluing them, they aroſe from the tables, and looking directly
as the noiſe came to them, they eſpied the wofull Woman, the
Dogges eagerly purſuing her; and the armed Knight on horſe back
•••
lopping
fiercely after them with his drawn weapon, and came very nere
vnto the company, who cryed out with lowd exclaimes againſt the dogs
and the Knight, ſtepping forth in aſſiſtance of the iniuried woman.
The Knight ſpake vnto them, as formerly hee had done to Anaſtaſio,
(which made them draw backe, poſſeſſed with feare and admiration) acting
the ſame cruelty as hee did the Friday before, not differing in the
leaſt degree. Moſt of the Gentlewomen there preſent, being neere allyed
to the vnfortunate Woman, and likewiſe to the Knight, remembring
well both his loue and death, did ſhed teares as plentifully, as if it had b
•
n
to the very perſons themſelues, in viſiall performance of the action indeede.
Which tragicall Scene being paſſed ouer, and the Woman and
Knight gone out of their ſight: all that had ſeene this ſtraunge accident,
fell into diuerſity of confuſed opinions, yet not daring to diſcloſe them,
as doubting ſome further danger to enſue thereon.
But beyond al the reſt, none could compare in feare and aſtoniſhment
with the cruell yong Maide affected by Anaſtaſio, who both ſaw and obſerued
all with a more inward apprehenſion, knowing very well, that the
morall of this diſmall ſpectacle, carried a much neerer application to her
then any other in all the company. For now ſhe could call to mind, how
vnkinde and cruell ſhe had ſhewn her ſelfe to Anaſtaſio, euen as the other
Gentlewoman formerly did to her Louer, ſtill flying from him in great
contempt and ſcorne: for which, ſhee thought the Blood-hounds alſo
purſued her at the heeles already, and a ſword of due vengeance to mangle
her body. This feare grew ſo powerfull in her, that, to preuent the
like heauy doome from falling on her; ſhe ſtudied (by all her beſt & commendable
meanes, and therein beſtowed all the night ſeaſon) how to
change her hatred into kinde loue, which at the length ſhee fully obtayned,
and then purpoſed to proſecute in this manner.
Secretly ſhe ſent a faithfull Chamber-maide of her owne, to greete
Anaſtaſio on her behalfe; humbly entreating him to come ſee her: becauſe
now ſhe was abſolutely determined, to giue him ſatisfaction in all
which (with honour) he could requeſt of her. Whereto Anaſtaſio anſwered,
that he accepted her meſſage thankfully, and deſired no other fauor
at her hand, but that which ſtood with her owne offer, namely, to be his
Wife in honourable marriage. The Maide knowing ſufficiently, that hee
could not be more deſirous of the match, then her Miſtreſſe ſhewed her
ſelfe to be, made anſwere in her name, that this motion would bee moſt
welcome to her.
Heereupon, the Gentlewoman her ſelfe, became the ſolicitour to her
Father and Mother, telling them plainly, that ſhe was willing to bee the
Wife of Anaſtaſio: which newes did ſo highly content them, that vppon
the Sunday next following, the mariage was very worthily ſollemnized,
and they liued and loued together very kindly. Thus the diuine bounty,
out of the malignant enemies ſecret machinations, can cauſe good effects
to ariſe and ſucceede. For, from this conceite of fearfull imagination in
her, not onely happened this long deſired conuerſion, of a Maide ſo obſtinately
ſcornfull and proud: but likewiſe al the women of Rauenna (being
admoniſhed by her example) grew afterward more kinde and tractable
to mens honeſt motions, then euer they ſhewed themſelues before.
And let me make ſome vſe hereof (faire Ladies) to you, not to ſtand ouer-nicely
conceited of your beauty and good parts, when men (growing
enamored of you by them) ſolicite you with their beſt and humbleſt
ſeruices. Remember then this diſdainfull Gentlewoman, but more eſpecially
her, who being the death of ſo kinde a Louer, was therefore condemned
to perpetuall puniſhment, and hee made the miniſter thereof,
whom ſhe had caſt off with coy diſdaine, from which I wiſh your minds
to be as free, as mine is ready to do you any acceptable ſeruice.
Frederigo, of the Alberighi Family, loued a Gentlewoman, and was not requited with like loue againe. By bountifull expences, and ouer liberall inuitations, he waſted and conſumed all his lands and goods, hauing nothing left him, but a Hawke or Faulcon. His vnkinde Miſtreſſe happeneth to come viſite him, and he not hauing any other foode for her dinner; made a daintie diſh of his Faulcone for her to feede on. Being conquered by this his exceeding kinde courteſie; ſhe changed her former hatred towardes him, accepting him as her Husband in marriage, and made him a man of wealthy poſſeſsions.
The ninth Nouell.
Wherein is figured to the life, the notable kindneſſe and courteſie, of a true and conſtant Louer: As alſo the magnanimous minde of a famous Lady.
MAdame Philomena hauing finiſhed her diſcourſe, the Queene perceiuing,
that her turne was the next, in regard of the priuiledge granted
to Dioneus; with a ſmiling countenance thus ſhe ſpake. Now or neuer
am I to maintaine the order which was inſtituted when we begann
•
this
commendable exerciſe, whereto I yeeld with all humble obedience. And
(worthy Ladies) I am to acquaint you with a Nouell, in ſome ſort anſwerable
to the precedent, not onely to let you know, how powerfully
your kindneſſes do preuaile, in ſuch as haue a free and gentle ſoule: but
alſo to aduiſe you, in being bountifull, where vertue doth
••
ſtly chal
•
nge
it. And euermore, let your fauours ſhine on worthy deſeruers, without
the direction of chaunce or Fortune, who neuer beſtoweth any gift by
diſcretion; but raſhly without conſideration, euen to the firſt ſhe blindly
meets withall.
You are to vnderſtand then, that Coppo di Borgheſe Domenichi, who was
of our owne City, and perhaps (as yet) his name remaineth in great and
reuerend authority, now in theſe dayes of ours, as well deſeruing eternal
memory; yet more for his vertues and commendable qualities, then any
boaſt of Nobility from his predeceſſors. This man, being well entred into
yeares, and drawing towards the finiſhing of his dayes; it was his only
delight and felicity, in conuerſation among his neighbours, to talke of
matters concerning antiquity, and ſome other things within compaſſe
of his owne knowledge: which he would deliuer in ſuch ſingular order,
(hauing an abſolute memory) and with the beſt Language, as verie few
or none could do the like. Among the multiplicity of his queint diſcourſes,
I remember he told vs, that ſometime there liued in Florence a yong
Gentleman, named Frederigo, Sonne to Signior Philippo Alberigho, who
was held and reputed, both for Armes, and all other actions beſeeming a
Gentleman, hardly to haue his equall through all Tuſcany.
This Frederigo (as it is no rare matter in yong Gentlemen) became enamored
of a Gentlewoman, named Madam Giana, who was eſteemed (in
her time) to be the faireſt and moſt gracious Lady in all Florence. In which
reſpect, and to reach the height of his deſire, he made many ſumptuous
Feaſts and Banquets, Iouſtes, Tiltes, Tournaments, and all other noble
actions of Armes, beſide, ſending her infinite rich and coſtly preſents,
making ſpare of nothing, but laſ
•
ing all out in lauiſh expence. Notwithſtanding,
ſhee being no leſſe honeſt then faire, made no reckoning of
whatſoeuer he did for her ſake, or the leaſt reſpect of his owne perſon. So
that Frederigo, ſpending thus daily more, then his meanes and ability
could maintaine, and no ſupplies any way redounding to him, or his faculties
(as very eaſily they might) diminiſhed in ſuch ſort, that he became ſo
poore; as he had nothing left him, but a ſmall poore Farme to liue vpon,
the ſilly reuenewes whereof were ſo meane, as ſcarcely allowed him meat
and drinke; yet had he a Faire Hawke or Faulcon, hardly any where to be
fellowed, ſo expeditious and ſure ſhe was of flight. His low ebbe and pouerty,
no way quailing his loue to the Lady, but rather ſetting a keener
edge thereon; he ſaw the City life could no longer containe him, where
moſt he coueted to abide: and therefore, betooke himſelfe to his poore
Countrey Farme, to let his Faulcon get him his dinner and ſupper, patiently
ſupporting his penurious eſtate, without ſuite or meanes making to
one, for helpe or reliefe in any ſuch neceſſity.
While thus he continued in this extremity, it came to paſſe, that the
Husband to Madam Giana fell ſicke, and his debility of body being ſuch,
as little, or no hope of life remained: he made his laſt will and teſtament,
ordaining thereby, that his Sonne (already growne to indifferent ſtature)
ſhould be heire to all his Lands and riches, wherein hee abounded very
greatly. Next vnto him, if he chanced to die without a lawfull heire, hee
ſubſiſtuted his Wife, whom moſt dearely he affected, and ſo departed
out of this life. Madam Giana being thus left a widow; as commonly it is
the cuſtome of our City Dames, during the Summer ſeaſon, ſhee went
to a Houſe of her owne in the Countrey, which was ſomewhat neere to
poore Frederigoes Farme, and where he liued in ſuch an honeſt kind of
contented pouerty.
Hereupon, the young Gentleman her Sonne, taking great delight in
Hounds and Hawkes; grew into familiarity with poore Frederigo, and hauing
ſeene many faire flights of his Faulcon, they pleaſed him ſo extraordinarily,
that he earneſtly deſired to enioy her as his owne; yet durſt not
moue the motion for her, becauſe he ſaw how choycely Frederigo eſteemed
her. Within a ſhort while after, the young Gentleman, became very
ſicke, whereat his Mother greeued exceedingly, (as hauing no more but
he, and therefore loued him the more entirely) neuer parting from him
either night or day, comforting him ſo kindly as ſhee could, and demanding,
if he had a deſire to any thing, willing him to reueale it, and aſſuring
him withall, that (if it were within the compaſſe of poſſibility) he ſhould
haue it. The youth hearing how many times ſhee had made him theſe
offers, and with ſuch vehement proteſtations of performance, at laſt thus
ſpake.
Mother (quoth he) if you can doe ſo much for me, as that I may haue
Frederigoes Faulcon, I am perſwaded, that my ſickneſſe ſoone will ceaſe.
The Lady hearing this, ſate ſome ſhort while muſing to her ſelfe, and began
to conſider, what ſhee might beſt doe to compaſſe her Sonnes deſire:
for well ſhee knew, how long a time Frederigo had moſt louingly kept it,
not ſuffering it euer to be out of his ſight. Moreouer, ſhee remembred,
how earneſt in affection he had beene to her, neuer thinking himſelfe happy,
but onely when he was in her company; wherefore, ſhee entred into
this priuate conſultation with her owne thoughts. Shall I ſend, or goe
my ſelfe in perſon, to requeſt the Faulcon of him, it being the beſt that
euer flew? It is his onely Iewell of delight, and that taken from him, no
longer can he wiſh to liue in this World. How farre then voide of vnderſtanding
ſhall I ſhew my ſelfe, to rob a Gentleman of his ſole felicity,
hauing no other ioy or comfort left him? Theſe and the like conſiderations,
wheeled about her troubled braine, onely in tender care and loue to
her Sonne, perſwading her ſelfe aſſuredly, that the Faulcon were her own,
if ſhee would but requeſt it: yet not knowing whereon it were beſt to reſolue,
ſhee returned no anſwer to her Sonne, but ſate ſtill in her ſilent meditations.
At the length, loue to the youth, ſo preuailed with her, that
ſhe concluded on his contentation, and (come of it what could) ſhee
would not ſend for it; but goe her ſelfe in perſon to requeſt it, and then returne
home againe with it, whereupon thus ſhe ſpake. Sonne, comfort
thy ſelfe, and let languiſhing thoughts no longer offend thee: for here I
promiſe thee, that the firſt thing I doe to morrow morning, ſhall be my
iourney for the Faulcon, and aſſure thy ſelfe, that I will bring it with me.
Whereat the youth was ſo ioyed, that he imagined, his ſickneſſe began inſtantly
a little to leaue him, and promiſed him a ſpeedy recouery.
Somewhat early the next morning, the Lady, in care of her ſicke Sons
health, was vp and ready betimes, and taking another Gentlewoman with
her; onely as a mornings recreation, ſhee walked to Frederigoes poore
Countrey Farme, knowing that it would not a little glad him to ſee her.
At the time of her arriuall there, he was (by chance) in a ſilly Garden, on
the backe-ſide of his Houſe, becauſe (as yet) it was no conuenient time
for flight: but when he heard, that Madam Giana was come thither, and
deſired to haue ſome conference with him; as one almoſt confounded
with admiration, in all haſte he ran to her, and ſaluted her with moſt humble
reuerence. Shee in all modeſt and gracious manner, requited him
with the like ſalutations, thus ſpeaking to him. Signior Frederigo, your
owne beſt wiſhes befriend you, I am now come hither, to recompence
ſome part of your paſſed trauailes, which heretofore you pretended to
ſuffer for my ſake, when your loue was more to me, then did well become
you to offer, or my ſelfe to accept. And ſuch is the nature of my recompence,
that I make my ſelfe your gueſt, and meane this day to dine with
you, as alſo this Gentlewoman, making no doubt of our welcome: whereto,
with lowly reuerence, thus he replyed.
Madam, I doe not remember, that euer I ſuſtained any loſſe or hinderance
by you, but rather ſo much good, as if I was woorth any thing, it
proceeded from your great deſeruings, and by the ſeruice in which I did
ſtand engaged to you. But my preſent happineſſe can no way bee equalled,
deriued from your ſuper-abounding gracious fauour, and more then
common courſe of kindneſſe, vouchſafing (of your owne liberal nature)
to come and viſit ſo poore a ſeruant. Oh that I had as much to ſpend againe,
as heeretofore riotouſly I haue run thorow: what a welcom wold
your poore Hoſt beſtow vpon you, for gracing this homely houſe with
your diuine preſence? With theſe wordes, hee conducted her into his
houſe, and then into his ſimple Garden, where hauing no conuenient
company for her, he ſaide. Madam, the pouerty of this place is ſuch, that
it affoordeth none fit for your conuerſation: this poore woman, wife to
an honeſt Husbandman will attend on you, while I (with ſome ſpeede)
ſhall make ready dinner.
Poore Frederigo, although his neceſſity was extreame, and his greefe
great, remembring his former inordinate expences, a moity whereof
would now haue ſtood him in ſome ſted; yet hee had a heart as free and
forward as euer, not a iotte deiected in his minde, though vtterly ouerthrowne
by Fortune. Alas! how was his good ſoule afflicted, that he had
nothing wherewith to honor his Lady? Vp and downe he runnes, one
while this way, then againe another, exclaiming on his diſaſtrous Fate,
like a man enraged, or bereft of ſenſes: for he had not one peny of mony
neither pawne or pledge, wherewith to procure any. The time haſted
on, and he would gladly (though in meane meaſure) expreſſe his honourable
reſpect of the Lady. To begge of any, his nature denied it, and to
borrow he could not, becauſe his neighbours were all as needie as himſelfe.
At laſt, looking round about, and ſeeing his Faulcon ſtanding on her
pearch, which he felt to be very plumpe and fat, being voide of all other
helpes in his neede, and thinking her to be a Fowle meete for ſo Noble a
Lady to feede on: without any further demurring or delay, he pluckt off
her necke, and cauſed the poore woman preſently to pull her Feathers:
which being done, he put her on the ſpit, and in ſhort time ſhe was daintily
roaſted. Himſelfe couered the table, ſet bread and ſalt on, and laid the
Napkins, whereof he had but a few left him. Going then with chearfull
lookes into the Garden, telling the Lady that dinner was ready, and nothing
now wanted, but her preſence. Shee, and the Gentlewoman went
in, and being ſeated at the table, not knowing what they fed on, the Falcon
was all their foode; and Frederigo not a little ioyfull, that his credite
was ſo well ſaued. When they were riſen from the table, and had ſpent
ſome ſmall time in familiar conference: the Lady thought it fitte, to acquaint
him with the reaſon of her comming thither, and therefore (in very
kinde manner) thus began.
Frederigo, if you do yet remember your former carriage towards me,
as alſo my many modeſt and chaſte denials, which (perhaps) you thoght
to ſauour of a harſh, cruell, and vn-womanly nature: I make no doubt,
but you will wonder at my preſent preſumption, when you vnderſtande
the occaſion, which expreſſely mooued me to come hither. But if you
were poſſeſſed of children, or euer had any, wherby you might comprehend
what loue (in nature) is due vnto them: then I durſt aſſure my ſelf,
that you would partly hold mee excuſed.
Now, in regard that you neuer had any, and I myſelfe (for my
patt) haue bnt onely one, I ſtand not exempted from thoſe Lawes, which
are in common to other mothers. And being compelled to obey the power
of thoſe Lawes; contrary to mine owne will, and thoſe duties which
reaſon ought to maintaine: I am to requeſt ſuch a gift of you, which I am
certaine, that you do make moſt precious account of, as in manly equity
you can do no leſſe. For, Fortune hath bin ſo extreamly aduerſe to you,
that ſhe hath robbed you of all other pleaſures, allowing you no comfort
or delight, but onely that poore one, which is your faire Faulcone. Of
which Bird, my Sonne is become ſo ſtraungeiy deſirous, as, if I doe not
bring it to him at my comming home; I feare ſo much the extreamity of
his ſickneſſe, as nothing can enſue thereon, but his loſſe of life. Wherefore
I beſeech you, not in regard of the loue you haue born me, for therby
you ſtand no way obliged: but in your owne true gentle nature (the
which hath alwayes declared it ſelfe ready in you, to do more kinde offices
generally, then any other Gentleman that I know) you will be pleaſed
to giue her me, or at the leaſt, let me buy her of you. Which if you
do, I ſhall freely then confeſſe, that onely by your meanes, my Sonnes
life is ſaued, and wee both ſhall for euer remaine engaged to you.
When Frederigo had heard the Ladies requeſt, which was now quite
out of his power to graunt, becauſe it had bene her ſeruice at dinner: he
ſtoodlike a man meerely dulled in his ſences, the teares trickling amaine
downe his checkes: and he not able to vtter one word. Which ſhee perceiuing,
began to coniecture immediately, that theſe teares and paſſions
proceeded rather from greefe of minde, as being loather to part with his
Faulcon, then any other kinde of matter: which made her readie to ſay,
that ſhe would not haue it. Neuertheleſſe ſhee did not ſpeake, but rather
tarried to attend his anſwer. Which, after ſome ſmall reſpite and pawſe,
he returned in this manner.
Madame, ſince the houre, when firſt mine affection became ſoly deuoted
to your ſeruice; Fortune hath bene croſſe and contrary to mee, in
many occaſions, as iuſtly, and in good reaſon I may complain of her. Yet
all ſeemed light and eaſie to be indured, in compariſon of her preſent malicious
contradiction, to my vtter ouerthrow, and perpetuall molleſtation.
Conſidering, that you are come hither to my poore houſe, which
(while I was rich and able) you would not ſo much as vouchſafe to look
on. And now you haue requeſted a ſmall matter of mee, wherein ſhee
hath alſo moſt crookedly thwarted me, becauſe ſhe hath diſabled mee, in
beſtowing ſo meane a gift, as your ſelfe will confeſſe, when it ſhall be related
to you in very few words.
So ſoone as I heard, that it was your gracious pleaſure to dine with
me, hauing regard to your excellency, and what (by merit) is iuſtly due
vnto you: I thought it a part of my bounden dutie, to entertaine you
with ſuch exquiſite viands, as my poore power could any way compas,
and farre beyond reſpect or welcome, to other common and ordinarie
perſons. Whereupon, remembring my Faulcon, which nowe you aske
for; and her goodneſſe, excelling all other of her kinde; I ſuppoſed, that
ſhe would make a dainty diſh for your dyet, and hauing dreſt hir, ſo well
as I could deuiſe to do: you haue fed hartily on her, and I am proud that
I haue ſo well beſtowne her. But perceiuing now, that you would haue
her for your ſicke Sonne; it is no meane affliction to mee, that I am diſabled
of yeelding you contentment, which all my life time I haue deſired
to doe.
To approue his words, the feathers, feete, and beake were brought in,
which when ſhe ſaw, ſhe greatly blamed him for killing ſo rare a Falcon,
to content the appetite of any woman whatſoeuer. Yet ſhe commended
his height of ſpirit, which pouerty had no power to abaſe. Laſtly, her
hopes being fr
•
ſtrate for enioying the Faulcon, and fearing beſides the
health of her Sonne: ſhethanked Frederigo for his honorable kindneſſe,
returning home againe ſad and melancholly. Shortly after, her ſonne either
greeuing that he could not haue the Faulcone, or by extreamity of
his diſeaſe, chanced to dye, leauing his mother a moſt wofull Lady.
After ſo much time was expired, as conueniently might agree with ſorow
and mourning; her Brethren made many motions to her, to ioyne
her ſelfe in marriage againe, becauſe ſhe was extraordinarily rich, and as
yet but yong in yeares. Now, although ſhe was well contented neuer to
be married any more; yet being continually importuned by them, and
remembring the honorable honeſty of Frederigo, his laſt poore, yet magnificent
dinner, in killing his Faulcone for her ſake, ſhee ſaide to her Brethren.
This kinde of widdowed eſtate doth like me ſo well, as willingly I
would neuer leaue it: but ſeeing you are ſo earneſt for my ſecond marriage,
let me plainly tell you, that I will neuer accept of any other husbād,
but onely Frederigo di Alberino.
Her brethren in ſcornfull manner reprooued her, telling her, that hee
was a begger, and had nothing left to keepe him in the world. I knowe it
well (quoth ſhe) and am heartily ſory for it. But giue me a man that hath
neede of wealth, rather then wealth that hath neede of a man. The Brethren
hearing how ſhee ſtoode addicted, and knowing Frederigo to bee a
worthy Gentleman, though pouerty had diſgraced him in the Worlde:
conſented thereto, ſo ſhe beſtowed her ſelfe and her riches on him. He on
the other ſide, hauing ſo noble a Lady to his Wife, and the ſame whome
he had ſo long and deerely loued: ſubmitted all his faireſt Fortunes vnto
her, became a better husband (for the world) then before, and they liued
and loued together in equall ioy and happineſſe.
Pedro di Vinciolo went to ſup at a friends Houſe in the City. His Wife (in the meane while) had a young man (whom ſhee loued) at ſupper with her. Pedro returning whom vpon a ſudden, the young man was hidden vnder a Coope for Hennes. Pedro, in excuſe of his ſo ſoone comming home, declareth, how in the Houſe of Herculano (with whom he ſhould haue ſupt) a friend of his Wiues was found, which was the reaſon of the Suppers breaking off. Pedroes Wife reprouing the errour of Hetculanoes Wife; an Aſſe (by chance) treads on the young mans fingers, that lay hidden vnder the Hen Coope. Vppon his crying out, Pedro ſteppeth thither, ſees him, knowes him, and findeth the fallacy of his Wife: with whom (neuertheleſſe) he groweth to agreement, in regard of ſome imperfections in himſelfe.
The tenth Nouell.
Reprehending the cunning ſhifts, of light headed and immodeſt Women, who, by abuſing themſelues, doe throw euill aſperſions on all the Sexe.
THe Queenes Nouell being ended, and all the company applauding
the happy fortune of Frederigo, as alſo the noble nature of Madam
Giana: Dioneus, who neuer expected any command, prepairing to deliuer
his diſcourſe, began in this manner. I know not, whether I ſhould terme
it a vice accidental, and enſuing through the badneſſe of complexions vppon
vs mortals; or elſe an errour in Nature, to ioy and ſmile rather at lewd
accidents, then at deeds that iuſtly deſerue commendation, eſpecially,
when they doe not any way concerne our ſelues. Now, in regard that all
the paines I haue hitherto taken, and am alſo to vndergoe at this preſent,
aymeth at no other end, but onely to purge your mindes of melancholly,
and entertaine the time with mirthful matter: pardon me I pray you (faire
Ladies) if my Tale trip in ſome part, and ſauour a little of immodeſty; yet
in hearing it, you may obſerue the ſame courſe, as you doe in pleaſing
and delightfull Gardens, plucke a ſweete Roſe, and yet preſerue your fingers
from pricking. Which very eaſily you may doe, wincking at the imperfections
of a fooliſh man, and ſmiling at the amorous ſubtilties of his
Wife, compaſſionating the misfortune of others, where vrgent neceſſity
doth require it.
There dwelt (not long ſince) in Perugia, a wealthy man, named Pedro di
Vinciolo, who perhaps) more to deceiue ſome other, and reſtraine an euill
opinion, which the Perugians had conceiued of him, in matter no way beſeeming
a man, then any beauty or good feature remaining in the woman
entred into the eſtate of marriage. And Fortune was ſo conforme to him
in his election, that the woman whom he had made his wife, had a young,
luſty, and well enabled body, a red hairde wench, hot and fiery ſpirited,
ſtanding more in neede of three Husbands, then he, who could not any
way well content one Wife, becauſe his minde ran more on his money,
then thoſe offices and duties belonging to wed-lock, which time acquainting
his Wife withall, contrary to her owne expectation, and thoſe delights
which the eſtate of marriage afforded, knowing her ſelfe alſo to be
of a ſprightly diſpoſition, and not to be eaſily tamed by houſhold cares
and attendances: ſhee waxed weary of her Husbands vnkind courſes, vpbraided
him daily with harſh ſpeeches, making his owne home meerely
as a hell to him.
When ſhee ſaw that this domeſticke diſquietneſſe returned her no benefit,
but rather tended to her owne conſumption, then any amendment
in her miſerable Husband; ſhee began thus to conferre with her priuate
thoughts. This Husband of mine liueth with me, as if he were no Huſband,
or This Wife; the marriage bed, which ſhould be a comfort to vs
both, ſeemeth hatefull to him, and as little pleaſing to me, becauſe his
minde is on his money, his head buſied with worldly cogitations, and
early and late in his counting-houſe, admitting no familiar conuerſation
with me. Why ſhould not I be as reſpectleſſe of him, as he declares himſelfe
to be of me? I tooke him for an Husband, brought him a good and
ſufficient dowry, thinking him to be a man, and affected a woman as a
man ought to doe, elſe he had neuer beene any Husband of mine. If he
be a Woman hater, why did he make choyce of me to be his Wife? If I
had not intended to be of the World, I could haue coopt my ſelfe vp in
a Cloyſter, and ſhorne my ſelfe a Nunne, but that I was not borne to ſuch
ſeuerity of life. My youth ſhall be blaſted with age, before I can truly vnderſtand
what youth is, and I ſhall be branded with the diſgracefull word
barrenneſſe, knowing my ſelfe meete and able to be a Mother, were my
Husband but worthy the name of a Father, or expected iſſue and poſterity,
to leaue our memoriall to after times in our race, as all our predeceſſours
formerly haue done, and for which mariage was chiefly inſtituted.
Caſtles long beſieged, doe yeeld at the laſt, and women wronged by their
owne Husbands, can hardly warrant their owne frailty, eſpecially liuing
among ſo many temptations, which fleſh and bloud are not alwayes able
to reſiſt. Well, I meane to be aduiſed in this caſe, before I will hazard
my honeſt reputation, either to ſuſpition or ſcandall, then which, no woman
can haue two heauier enemies, and very few there are that can eſcape
them.
Hauing thus a long while conſulted with her ſelfe, and (perhaps) oftner
then twice or thrice; ſhee became ſecretly acquainted with an aged woman,
generally reputed to be more then halfe a Saint, walking alwayes very
demurely in the ſtreetes, counting (ouer and ouer) her Pater noſters,
and all the Cities holy pardons hanging at her girdle, neuer talking of any
thing, but the liues of the holy Fathers, or the wounds of Saint Frances,
all the World admiring her ſanctity of life, euen as if ſhee were diuinely
inſpired: this ſhe Saint muſt be our diſtreſſed womans Councellour, and
hauing found out a conuenient ſeaſon, at large ſhe imparted all her mind
to her, in ſome ſuch manner as formerly you haue heard, whereto ſhee
returned this anſwere.
Now truſt me Daughter, thy caſe is to be pittied, and ſo much the rather,
becauſe thou art in the floure and ſpring time of thy youth, when
not a minute of time is to be left: for there is no greater an errour in this
life, then the loſſe of time, becauſe it cannot be recouered againe; and
when the fiends themſelues affright vs, yet if we keepe our embers ſtill couered
with warme aſhes on the hearth, they haue not any power to hurt
vs. If any one can truly ſpeake thereof, then I am able to deliuer true
•
eſtimony;
for I know, but not without much perturbation of minde, and
piercing afflictions in the ſpirit; how much time I loſt without any profit.
And yet I loſt not all, for I would not haue thee thinke me to be ſo fooliſh,
that I did altogether neglect ſuch an eſpeciall benefit; which when I call
to minde, and conſider now in what condition I am, thou muſt imagine,
it is no ſmal hearts griefe to me, that age ſhould make me vtterly deſpiſed,
and no fire afforded to light my tinder.
With men it is not ſo, they are borne apt for a thouſand occaſions, as
well for the preſent purpoſe we talke of, as infinite other beſide; yea, and
many of them are more eſteemed being aged, then when they were yong.
But women ſerue onely for mens contentation, and to bring children,
and therefore are they generally beloued, which if they faile of, either it is
by vnfortunate marriage, or ſome imperfection depending on nature, not
through want of good will in themſelues. We haue nothing in this world
but what is giuen vs, in which regard, we are to make vſe of our time, and
employ it the better while we haue it. For, when we grow to be old, our
Husbands, yea, our very deareſt and neareſt friends, will ſcarcely looke
on vs. We are then fit for nothing, but to ſit by the fire in the Kitchin,
telling tales to the Cat, or counting the pots and pannes on the ſhelues.
Nay, which is worſe, rimes and ſongs is made of vs, euen in meere contempt
of our age, and commendation of ſuch as are young, the daintieſt
morſels are fitteſt for them, and we referred to feed on the ſcrappes from
their trenchers, or ſuch reuerſion as they can ſpare vs. I tell thee Daughter,
thou couldſt not make choyce of a meerer woman in all the City, to
whom thou mighteſt ſafely open thy minde, and knowes better to aduiſe
thee then I doe. But remember withall, that I am poore, and it is your
part not to ſuffer pouerty to be vnſupplyed. I will make thee partaker of
all theſe bleſſed pardons, at euery Altar I will ſay a Pater noſter, and an Aue
Maria, that thou maiſt proſper in thy hearts deſires, and be defended from
foule ſinne and ſhame, and ſo ſhee ended her Motherly counſell.
Within a while after, it came to paſſe, that her Husband was iniuited
foorth to Supper, with one named Herculano, a kind friend of his, but his
Wife refuſed to goe, becauſe ſhee had appointed a friend to ſupper with
her, to whom the old woman was employed as her meſſenger, and was
well recompenced for her labour. This friend was a gallant proper youth,
as any all Perugia yeelded, and ſcarcely was he ſeated at the Table, but her
Husband was returned backe, and called to be let in at the doore. Which
when ſhee perceiued, ſhee was almoſt halfe dead with feare, and coueting
to hide the young man, that her Husband ſhould not haue any ſight of
him, ſhee had no other meanes, but in an enrry, hard by the Parlour where
they purpoſed to haue ſupt, ſtood a Coope or Hen pen, wherein ſhe vſed
to keepe her Pullen, vnder which he crept, and then ſhee couered it with
an old empty ſacke, and after ran to let her Husband come in. When he
was entred into the Houſe; as halfe offended at his ſo ſudden returne, angerly
he ſaide: It ſeemes Sir you are a ſhauer at your meate, that you haue
made ſo ſhort a ſupper. In troth Wife (quoth he) I haue not ſupt at all,
no, not ſo much as eaten one bit. How hapned that? ſaid the woman. Mary
wife (quoth he) I will tell you, and then thus he began.
As Herculano, his wife, and I were ſitting downe at the Table, very neere
vnto vs we heard one ſneeze, whereof at the firſt we made no reckoning,
vntill we heard it againe the ſecond time, yea, a third, fourth, and fifth, and
many more after, whereat we were not a little amazed. Now Wife I muſt
tell you, before we entred the roome where we were to ſup, Herculanoes
wife kept the doore faſt ſhut againſt vs, and would not let vs enter in an
indifferent while; which made him then ſomewhat offended, but now
much more, when he had heard one to ſneeze ſo often. Demanding of her
a reaſon for it, and who it was that thus ſneezed in his Houſe: he ſtarted
from the Table, and ſtepping to a little doore neere the ſtaires head, neceſſarily
there made, to ſet ſuch things in, as otherwiſe would be troubleſome
to the roome, (as in all Houſes we commonly ſee the like) he perceiued,
that the party was hidden there, which wee had heard ſo often to ſneeze
before.
No ſooner had he opened the doore, but ſuch a ſmell of brimſton came
foorth (whereof we felt not the leaſt ſauour before) as made vs likewiſe
to cough and ſneeze, being no way able to refraine it. She ſeeing her Huſband
to be much moued, excuſed the matter thus, that (but a little while
before) ſhee had whited certaine linnen with the ſmoake of brimſtone,
as it is an vſuall thing to doe, and then ſet the pan into that ſpare place, becauſe
it ſhould not be offenſiue to vs. By this time, Herculano had eſpied
him that ſneezed, who being almoſt ſtifled with the ſmell, and cloſeneſſe
of the ſmall roome wherein he lay, had not any power to helpe himſelfe,
but ſtill continued coughing and ſneezing, euen as if his heart would haue
ſplit in twaine. Foorth he pluckt him by the heeles, and perceiuing how
matters had paſt, he ſaide to her. I thanke you Wife, now I ſee the reaſon,
why you kept vs ſo long from comming into this roome, let me die,
if I beare this wrong at your hands. When his Wife heard theſe words,
and ſaw the diſcouery of her ſhame; without returning either excuſe or
anſwere, foorth of doores ſhe ran, but whither, we know not. Herculano
drew his Dagger, and would haue ſlaine him that ſtill lay ſneezing: but I
diſſwaded him from it, as well in reſpect of his, as alſo mine owne danger,
when the Law ſhould cenſure on the deede. And after the young man
was indifferently recouered; by the perſwaſion of ſome Neighbours comming
in: he was cloſely conueyed out of the houſe, and all the noyſe
quietly pacified. Onely (by this meanes, and the flight of Herculanoes wife)
we were diſappointed of our Supper; and now you know the reaſon of
my ſo ſoone returning.
When ſhe had heard this whole diſcourſe, then ſhe perceiued, that other
Women were ſubiect to the like infirmity, and as wiſe for themſelues,
as ſhee could be, though theſe and the like ſiniſter accidents might ſometimes
croſſe them, and gladly ſhe wiſhed, that Herculanoes Wifes excuſe,
might now ſerue to acquite her: but becauſe in blaming others errors, our
owne may ſometime chance to eſcape diſcouery, and cleare vs, albeit we
are as guilty; in a ſharpe reprehending manner, thus ſhe began. See Huſband,
here is hanſome behauiour, of an holy faire ſeeming, and Saint like
woman, to whom I durſt haue confeſt my ſinnes, I conceiued ſuch a religious
perſwaſion of her liues integrity, free from the leaſt ſcruple of taxation.
A woman, ſo farre ſtept into yeeres, as ſhee is, to giue ſuch an euill
example to other younger women, is it not a ſinne beyond all ſufferance?
Accurſed be the houre, when ſhe was borne into this World, and her
ſelfe likewiſe, to be ſo lewdly and incontinently giuen; an vniuerſall ſhame
and ſlaunder, to all the good women of our City.
Shall I terme her a woman, or rather ſome ſauage monſter in a womans
ſhape? Hath ſhee not made an open proſtitution of her honeſty
broken her plighted faith to her Husband, and all the womanly reputation
ſhee had in this World? Her Husband, being an honourable Citizen,
entreating her alwayes, as few men elſe in the City doe their wiues; what
an heart-breake muſt this needes be to him, good man? Neither I, nor any
honeſt man elſe, ought to haue any pity on her; but (with our owne
hands) teare her in peeces, or dragge her along to a good fire in the market
place, wherein ſhe and her minion ſhould be conſumed together, and
their baſe aſhes diſperſed abroade in the winde, leaſt the pure Aire ſhould
be infected with them.
Then, remembring her owne caſe, and her poore affrighted friend, who
lay in ſuch diſtreſſe vnder the Hen-coope; ſhee began to aduiſe her Huſband,
that he would be pleaſed to goe to bed, becauſe the night paſſed on
apace. But Pedro, hauing a better will to eate, then to ſleepe, deſired her
to let him haue ſome meate, elſe hee muſt goe to bed with an empty bellie;
whereto ſhee anſwered. Why Husband (quoth ſhee) doe I make any
large prouiſion, when I am debard of your company? I would I were
the wife of Herculano, ſeeing you cannot content your ſelfe from one
nights feeding, conſidering, it is now ouer-late to make any thing
ready.
It fortuned, that certaine Husbandmen, which had the charge of Pedroes
Farme houſe in the Countrey, and there followed his affaires of
Husbandry, were returned home this inſtant night, hauing their Aſſes laden
with ſuch prouiſion, as was to be vſed in his City-houſe. When the
Aſſes were vnladen, and ſet vp in a ſmall Stable, without watering; one
of them being (belike) more thirſty then the reſt, brake looſe, and wandering
all about ſmelling to ſeeke water, happened into the entry, where
the young man lay hidden vnder the Hen-pen. Now, he being conſtrained
(like a Carpe) to lie flat on his belly, becauſe the Coope was ouerweighty
for him to carry, and one of his hands more extended forth, then
was requiſite for him in ſo vrgent a ſhift: it was his hap (or ill fortune rather)
that the Aſſe ſet his foote on the young mans fingers, treading ſo
hard, and the paine being very irkeſome to him, as he was enforced to cry
out aloude, which Pedro hearing, he wondered thereat not a little.
Knowing that this cry was in his houſe, he tooke the candle in his hand,
and going foorth of the Parlour, heard the cry to be louder and louder;
becauſe the Aſſe remoued not his foote, but rather trod the more firmely
on his hand. Comming to the Coope, driuing thence the Aſſe, and taking
off the old ſacke, he e
•
pyed the young man, who, beſide the painfull
anguiſh he felt of his fingers, aroſe vp trembling, as fearing ſome outrage
beſide to be offered him by Pedro, who knew the youth perfectly, and
demanded of him, how he came thither. No anſwer did he make to that
queſtion, but humbly entreated (for charities ſake) that he would not do
•
him any harme. Feare not (quoth Pedro) I will not offer thee any violence:
onely tel me how thou cameſt hither, and for what occaſion; wherin
the youth fully reſolued him.
Pedro being no leſſe ioyfull for thus finding him, then his wife was ſorrowfull,
tooke him by the hand, and brought him into the Parlour, where
ſhee ſate trembling and quaking, as not knowing what to ſay in this diſtreſſe.
Seating himſelfe directly before her, and holding the youth ſtill
faſt by the hand, thus he began. Oh Wife! what bitter ſpeeches did you
vſe (euen now) againſt the wife of Herculano, maintaining that ſhee had
ſhamed all other women, and iuſtly deſerued to be burned? Why did you
not ſay as much of your ſelfe? Or, if you had not the heart to ſpeake it,
how could you be ſo cruell againſt her, knowing your offence as great as
hers? Queſtionleſſe, nothing elſe vrged you thereto, but that all women
are of one and the ſame condition, couering their owne groſſe faults
by farre inferiour infirmities in others. You are a peruerſe generation,
meerely falſe in your faireſt ſhewes.
When ſhe ſaw that he offered her no other violence, but gaue her ſuch
vaunting and reproachfull ſpeeches, holding ſtill the young man before
her face, meerely to vexe and deſpight her: ſhee began to take heart, and
thus replied. Doeſt thou compare me with the wife of Herculano, who is an
olde, diſcembling hypocrite? yet ſhe can haue of him whatſoeuer ſhe deſireth,
and he vſeth her as a woman ought to be, which fauour I could neuer
yet find at thy hands. Put the caſe, that thou keepeſt me in good garments,
allowing me to goe neatly hoſed and ſhod; yet well thou knoweſt,
there are other meete matters belonging to a woman, and euery way as
neceſſarily required, both for the preſeruation of Houſhold quietneſſe,
and thoſe other rites betweene a Husband and Wife. Let me be worſer
garmented, courſer dieted, yea, debarred of all pleaſure and delights; ſo
I might once be worthy the name of a Mother, and leaue ſome remembrance
of woman-hood behind me. I tell thee plainly Pedro, I am a woman
as others are, and ſubiect to the ſame deſires, as (by nature) attendeth
on fleſh and bloud: look how thou faileſt in kindneſſe towards me, thinke
it not amiſſe, if I doe the like to thee, and endeauour thou to win the worthy
tile of a Father, becauſe I was made to be a Mother.
When Pedro perceiued, that his Wife had ſpoken nothing but reaſon,
in regard of his ouer-much neglect towards her, and not vſing ſuch houſhold
kindneſſe, as ought to be between Man and Wife, he returned her
this anſwer. Well Wife (quoth he) I confeſſe my fault, and hereafter
will labour to amend it; conditionally, that this youth, nor any other, may
no more viſite my Houſe in mine abſence. Get me therefore ſomething
to eate, for doubtleſſe, this young man and thy ſelfe fell ſhort of your ſupper,
by reaſon of my ſo ſoone returning home. In troth Husband, ſaide
ſhee, we did not eate one bit of any thing, and I will be a true and loyall
Wife to thee, ſo thou wilt be the like to me. No more words then wife,
replyed Pedro, all is forgotten and forgiuen, let vs to ſupper, and we are
all friends. She ſeeing his anger was ſo well appeaſed, louingly kiſſed him,
and laying the cloth, ſet on the ſupper, which ſhee had prouided for her
ſelfe & the youth, and ſo they ſupt together merily, not one vnkind word
paſſing betweene them. After ſupper, the youth was ſent away in friendly
manner, and Pedro was alwayes afterward more louing to his Wife, then
formerly he had been, and no complaint paſſed on either ſide, but mutuall
ioy and houſhold contentment, ſuch as ought to be betweene man and
wife.
Dioneus hauing ended his Tale, for which the Ladies returned him no
thankes, but rather angerly frowned on him: the Queene, knowing that
her gouernment was now concluded, aroſe, and taking off her Crowne of
Lawrell, placed it graciouſly on the head of Madam Eliza, ſaying. Now
Madam, it is your turne to command. Eliza hauing receiued the honour,
did (in all reſpects) as others formerly had done, and after ſhe had enſtructed
the Maſter of the Houſhold, concerning his charge during the time
of her regiment, for contentation of all the company; thus ſhe ſpake.
We haue long ſince heard, that with witty words, ready anſwers, and
ſudden ieſts or taunts, many haue checkt & reproued great folly in others,
and to their owne no meane commendation. Now, becauſe it is a pleaſing
kind of argument, miniſtring occaſion of mirth and wit: my deſire is,
that all our diſcourſe to morrow ſhall tend thereto. I meane of ſuch perſons,
either Men or Women, who with ſome ſudden witty anſwer, haue
encountred a ſcorner in his owne intention, and layed the blame where it
iuſtly belonged. Euery one commended the Queenes appointment, becauſe
it ſauoured of good wit and iudgement; and the Queene being riſen,
they were all diſcharged till ſupper time, falling to ſuch ſeuerall exerciſes
as themſelues beſt fancyed.
When ſupper was ended, and the inſtruments layed before them; by
the Queenes conſent, Madam Aemillia vndertooke the daunce, and the
Song was appointed to Dioneus, who began many, but none that proued
to any liking, they were ſo palpably obſcene and idle, ſauouring altogether
of his owne wanton diſpoſition. At the length, the Queene looking
ſtearnely on him, and commanding him to ſing a good one, or none at all;
thus he began.
The Song.
EYes, can ye not refraine your hourely weeping?
Eares, how are you depriude of ſweete attention?
Thoughts, haue you loſt your quiet ſilent ſleeping?
Wit, who hath robde thee of thy rare inuention?
The lacke of theſe, being life and motion giuing:
Are ſenceleſſe ſhapes, and no true ſignes of liuing.
Eyes, when you gazde vpon her Angell beauty;
Eares, while you heard her ſweete delicious ſtraines,
Thoughts (ſleeping then) did yet performe their duty,
Wit, then tooke ſpringtly pleaſure in his paines.
While ſhee did liue, then none of theſe were ſcanting,
But now (being dead) they all are gone and wanting.
After that Dioneus (by proceeding no further) declared the finiſhing
of his Song; many more were ſung beſide, and that of Dioneus highly commended.
Some part of the night being ſpent in other delightfull exerciſes,
and a fitting houre for reſt drawing on: they betooke themſelues to
their Chambers, where we will leaue them till to morrow morning.
The end of the Fifth Day.
FINIS.
The Errata of ſuch faults as haue vnwillingly eſcaped in the Printing.
Folio a. b. the ſeuerall ſides: Line correction:
FOl. 4. a. Line 32, for been reputed, reade haue reputed: 5 b. 8: for twaining,
r. wauing: 7 b. 6. for fearefully, r. fairely: Eod. b. 18, for flames, r. floures;
12 b. 24, for Nigilles, r. Vigilles: 14 a. 39, for within himſelfe, r. ſaide within
himſelfe: Eod. b. 14, for ſhift, r. ſhrift: Eod. b. 22, for Daughters doore, r. Dorter
doore: Eod. b. 35, for veniall, r. veneriall: 21. a. 12, for paired, r. payed: 28 b. 20:
for commanding, r. commanded; 29 b. 29, for for the, r. forth: 33 a. 19, for enſignes
r. engines: 37 b. 12, for great, r. greater: Eod. b. 13, for death, r. depth; 39 a. 2, for
ſome doe, r. ſeene ſome doe: 40 b. 26, for Naupertuis, r. Malpertuis: 46 a. 3, for
inſtruſt, r. enſtruct: Eod. b. 20, for he, r. ſhe; 47 b. 3, for his, r. their: Eod. b. 17, for the
two with her children, r. & the two children with her: 48 a. 4, for houres, r. yeeres:
Eod. a. 42, for who, r. and: 4
•
a. 5, for iniuries which, r. iniuries are which: Eod. a. 8,
for Gentlewoman, r. Gentlemen: Eod. b. 5, for was as a little, r. was not a little: 52,
a. 21, for badly, r. kindly: Eod: b. 35, for Gentlewoman, r. Gentleman; Eod▪ b. vlt.
for them r. him: 53 b. 11, for inſtructing, r. miſtructing: 55 a. 31, for Duke, r. Prince:
56 a. 42, for horſe, r. force: Eod. b. 41, for not ſo far, r. now ſo far: 64 a. 19, for both,
r. loth: 68 a. 22, for eare, r. Earle; Eod. a. 26, for Ambroſio, r. Ambroginolo: Eod. b. 32,
for name, r. owne: 70 a. 14, for vnapt, r. iumpt; 74 b. 30, for he, r. her Eod. b. 16; for
him, r. himſelfe: Eod. b. 19, for Gentleman, r. Gentlewoman: 75 a. 2, for ſhe was, r.
he was; 77 b. vlt. for parted, r. played: 78 b, 16, for with, r. them with: 81 b. 34, for
an eaſie, r. ſuch an eaſie; 82 a. 39, for mine, r. nine: Eod. b. 40, for meanes, r. craft: 90. a.
18, for muſt, r. he muſt: Eod▪ a:
•
9, for is a great, r. is no great; Eod: b. 31, for mighty,
r. nightly: 85 a: 20, for her ſelfe, r. turning her ſelfe: Eob: b, 24, for and onely, r:
ſauing onely: 86 a. 8, 9, reade thus. If I ſhould do any thing contrary to his liking
and honour, no woman could more worthily, &c. 91 a. 14, for asking, r. looking:
Eod. b. 22, for houſe, r. horſe: 96 b. 19, for husband, r. father; 98 b. 40, for hath not,
r. hath; 99 a. 7, for repeate, r. repent: 101 a. 14, for vndergoe, r. vndergoe it; Eod.
b. 8, for Hoſteſſe, r. Hoſtes: 102 a. 41, for and, r. or; 104 b. 40, for hither, r. come hither:
105 a. 42, for darge, r. darke: 107 b. 27, for a King, r. liking: 114, b. 23, for
your, r. our: 116, b. 12, for theſe, r. then: 118, a. 8, for no ſpare, r. made no ſpare: 122,
a. 27, for mine reſpect, r. mine owne reſpect: Eod. a. 29▪ for honour, r humours: Eod.
b. 13, for quickly, r. quietly: 155, a. 34, for and and, r. one: Eod. b. 27, for ſhe, r. he:
156, a. 10, for ſhame, r. flame; 158, a. 4, for writing, r. waiting: 159, a. 4, for like, r.
life: Eod. a. 19, for diuert them, r. diuert him: 167, b. 22; for neighbours, r. neighbors
children: 168, a. 24, for to experience, r. to gaine experience: 169 b. 9, for inſtantly
r. conſtantly: 170, b. 24, for receiued, r. perceiued: 187, a. 6; for imputed, r. inured:
190, a. 13, for places, r. parts: 191, a 5; for ſpared frō, r. lodged: Eod: a. 26, for hardy,
r. hardly: 192, b: 22, for Forenza, r. Faenza: 194, b: 7: for ſpake he, r. ſpeaketh:
THE
Decameron
CONTAINING
An hundred pleaſant
Nouels.
Wittily diſcourſed, betweene
ſeuen Honourable Ladies, and
three Noble Gentlemen.
The laſt Fiue Dayes.
London, Printed by
Iſaac Iaggard,
1620.
TO THE RIGHT HOnourable, Sir PHILLIP HERBERT, Knight, Lord Baron of Sh
•
rland, Earle of Montgomery, and Knight of the moſt Noble order of the Garter.
HAuing (by your Honorable command)
tranſlated this Decameron, or Cento
Nouelle, ſirnamed Il Principe
Galeotto, of ten dayes ſeuerall diſcourſes,
grounded on variable and ſinguler
Arguments, happening betweene
ſeauen Noble Ladies, and three ver-Honourable
Gentlemen: Although not attyred in ſuch elegant
cy of phraſe, or nice curioſity of ſtile, as a quicker and more
ſprightly wit could haue performed, but in ſuch home-borne
language, as my ability could ſtretch vnto; yet it commeth (in
all duty) to kiſſe your Noble hand, and to ſhelter it ſelfe vnder
your Gracious protection, though not from the leering eye, and
ouer-lauiſh tongue of ſnarling Enuy; yet from the power of his
blaſting poyſon, and malice of his machinations.
To the Reader.
BOokes (Courteous Reader) may
rightly be compared to Gardens;
wherein, let the painfull Gardiner
expreſſe neuer ſo much care and
diligent endeauour; yet among
the very faireſt, ſweeteſt, and freſheſt
Flowers, as alſo Plants of
moſt precious Vertue; ill ſauouring and ſtinking
Weeds, fit for no vſe but the fire or mucke-hill, will
ſpring and ſprout vp. So fareth it with Bookes of the
very beſt quality, let the Author bee neuer ſo indulgent,
and the Printer vigilant: yet both may miſſe
their ayme, by the eſcape of Errors and Miſtakes, either
in ſenſe or matter, the one fault enſuing by a ragged
Written Copy; and the other thorough want of
wary Correction. If then the beſt Bookes cannot be
free from this common infirmity; blame not this
then, of farre lighter argument, wherein thy courteſie
may helpe vs both: His blame, in acknowledging
his more ſufficiency, then to write ſo groſſe and abſurdly:
And mine, in pardoning vnwilling Errours
committed, which thy iudgement finding, thy pen
can as eaſily correct.
Farewell.
THE SIXT DAY.
Gouerned vnder the Authority of Madam Eliza, and the Argument of the Diſcourſes or Nouels there to be recounted, doe concerne ſuch perſons; who by ſome witty words (when any haue checkt or taunted them) haue reuenged themſelues, in a ſudden, vnexpected and diſcreet anſwere, thereby preuenting loſſe, danger, ſcorne and diſgrace, retorting them on the buſi-headed Queſtioners.
The Induction.
THe Moone haning paſt the heauen, loſt
her bright ſplendor, by the ariſing of a
more powerfull light, and euery part of
our world began to looke cleare: when
the Queene (being riſen) cauſed all the
Company to be called, walking forth afterward
vpon the pearled dewe (ſo farre
as was ſuppoſed conuenient) in faire and
familiar conference together, according
as ſeuerally they were diſpoſed, & repetition
of diuers the paſſed Nouels, eſpecially
thoſe which were moſt pleaſing, and ſeemed ſo by their preſent commendations.
But the Sunne beeing ſomewhat higher mounted, gaue
ſuch a ſenſible warmth to the ayre, as cauſed their returne backe to the
Pallace, where the Tables were readily couered againſt their comming,
ſtrewed with ſweet hearbes and odoriferous flowers, ſeating themſelues
at the Tables (before the heat grew more violent) according as the
Queene commanded.
After dinner, they ſung diuers excellent Canzonnets, and then ſome
went to ſleepe, others played at the Cheſſe, and ſome at the Tables:
But Dioneus and Madam Lauretta, they ſung the loue-conflict betweene
Troylus and Creſsida. Now was the houre come, of repairing to their
former Conſiſtory or meeting place, the Queene hauing thereto generally
ſummoned them, and ſeating themſelues (as they were wont to doe)
about the faire fountaine. As the Queene was commanding to begin
the firſt Nouell, an accident ſuddenly happened, which neuer had befalne
before: to wit, they heard a great noyſe and tumult, among the
houſhold ſeruants in the Kitchin. Whereupon, the Queene cauſed the
Maſter of the Houſhold to be called, demaunding of him, what noyſe it
was, and what might be the occaſion thereof? He made anſwere, that
Laciſca and Tindar
•
were at ſome words of diſcontentment, but what
was the occaſion thereof, he knew not. Whereupon, the Queene commanded
that they ſhould be ſent for, (their anger and violent ſpeeches
ſtill continuing) and being come into her preſence, ſhe demaunded the
reaſon of their diſcord; and Tindaro offering to make anſwere, Laciſca
(being ſomewhat more ancient then he, and of a fiercer fiery ſpirit, euen
as if her heart would haue leapt out of her mouth) turned her ſelfe to
him, and with a ſcornefull frowning countenance, ſaid. See how this
bold, vnmannerly and beaſtly fellow, dare preſume to ſpeake in this
place before me: Stand by (ſaucy impudence) and giue your better
leaue to anſwere; then turning to the Queene, thus ſhee proceeded.
Madam, this idle fellow would maintaine to me, that Signior Sicophanto
marrying with Madama dell
••
Grazza, had the victory of her virginity
the very firſt night; and I auouched the contrary, becauſe ſhee
had been a mother twiſe before, in very faire aduenturing of her fortune.
And he dared to affirme beſide, that yong Maides are ſo ſimple, as
to looſe the flouriſhing Aprill of their time, in meere feare of their parents,
and great preiudice of their amourous friends. Onely being abuſed
by infinite promiſes, that this yeare and that yeare they ſhall haue
husbands, when, both by the lawes of nature and reaſon, they are not
tyed to tarry ſo long, but rather ought to lay hold vpon opportunity,
when it is fairely and friendly offered, ſo that ſeldome they come maides
to marriage. Beſide, I haue heard, and know ſome married wiues, that
haue played diuers wanton prancks with their husbands, yet carried all
ſo demurely and ſmoothly; that they haue gone free from publique detection.
All which this woodcocke will not credit, thinking me to be ſo
yong a Nouice, as if I had been borne but yeſterday.
While Lariſca was deliuering theſe ſpeeches, the Ladies ſmiled on
one another, not knowing what to ſay in this caſe: And although the
Queene (fiue or ſixe ſeuerall times) commaunded her to ſilence; yet
ſuch was the earneſtnes of her ſpleen, that ſhe gaue no attention, but held
on ſtill▪ euen vntill ſhe had vttered all that ſhe pleaſed. But after ſhe had
concluded her complaint, the Queene (with a ſmiling countenance)
turned towards Dioneus, ſaying. This matter ſeemeth moſt properly to
belong to you; and therefore I dare repoſe ſuch truſt in you, that when
our Nouels (for this day) ſhall be ended, you will conclude the caſe
with a definitiue ſentence. Whereto Dioneus preſently thus replyed.
Madam the verdict is already giuen, without any further expectation:
and I affirme, that Laciſca hath ſpoken very ſenſibly, becauſe ſhee is a
woman of good apprehenſion, and Tindaro is but a puny, in practiſe and
experience, to her.
When Liciſca heard this, ſhe fell into a lowd Laughter, and turning
her ſelfe to Tindaro, ſayde: The honour of the day is mine, and
thine owne quarrell hath ouerthrowne thee in the fielde. Thou that
(as yet) hath ſcarſely learned to ſucke, wouldeſt thou preſume to know
ſo much as I doe? Couldſt thou imagine mee, to be ſuch a trewant in
loſſe of my time, that I came hither as an ignorant creature? And had
not the Queene (looking verie frowningly on her) ſtrictly enioyned
her to ſilence; ſhee would haue continued ſtill in this triumphing humour.
But fearing further chaſtiſement for diſobedience, both ſhee
and Tindaro were commanded thence, where was no other allowance
all this day, but onely ſilence and attention, to ſuch as ſhould be enioyned
ſpeakers.
And then the Queene, ſomewhat offended at the folly of the former
controuerſie, commanded Madame Philomena, that ſhe ſhould giue beginning
to the dayes Nouels: which (in dutifull manner) ſhee vndertooke
to doe, and ſeating her ſelfe in formall faſhion, with modeſt and
very gracious geſture, thus ſhe began.
A Knight requested Madam Oretta, to ride behinde him on horſe-backe, and promiſed, to tell her an excellent Tale by the way. But the Lady perceiuing, that his diſcourſe was idle, and much worſe deliuered: entreated him to let her walke on foote againe.
The Firſt Nouell.
Reprehending the folly of ſuch men, as vndertake to report diſcourſes, which are beyond their wit and capacity, and gaine nothing but blame for their labour.
GRacious Ladies, like as in our faire, cleere, and
ſerene ſeaſons, the Statres are bright ornaments
to the heauens, and the flowry fields (ſo long as
the ſpring time laſteth) weare their goodlieſt Liueries,
the Trees likewiſe bragging in their beſt
adornings: Euen ſo at friendly meetings, ſhort,
ſweet, and ſententious words, are the beauty &
ornament of any diſcourſe, ſauouring of wit and
ſound iudgement, worthily deſeruing to be commended. And ſo much
the rather, becauſe in few and witty words, aptly ſuting with the time
and occaſion, more is deliuered then was expected, or ſooner anſwered,
then raſhly apprehended: which, as they become men verie highly, yet
do they ſhew more ſingular in women.
True it is, what the occaſion may be, I know not, either by the badneſſe
of our wittes, or the eſpeciall enmitie betweene our complexions
and the celeſtiall bodies: there are ſcarſely any, or very few Women to
be found among vs, that well knowes how to deliuer a word, when it
ſhould and ought to be ſpoken; or, if a queſtion bee mooued, vnderſtands
to ſuite it with an apt anſwere, ſuch as conueniently is required,
which is no meane diſgrace to vs women. But in regard, that Madame
Pampinea hath already ſpoken ſufficiently of this matter, I meane not to
preſſe it any further: but at this time it ſhall ſatisfie mee, to let you
know, how wittily a Ladie made due obſeruation of opportunitie,
in anſwering of a Knight, whoſe talke ſeemed tedious and offenſive to
her.
No doubt there are ſome among you, who either do know, or (at
the leaſt) haue heard, that it is no long time ſince, when there dwelt a
Gentlewoman in our Citie, of excellent grace and good diſcourſe, with
all other rich endowments of Nature remaining in her, as pitty it were
to conceale her name: and therefore let me tell ye, that ſhee was called
Madame Oretta, the Wife to Signior Geri Spina. She being vpon ſome
occaſion (as now we are) in the Countrey, and paſſing from place to
place (by way of neighbourly inuitations) to viſite her louing Friends
and Acquaintance, accompanied with diuers Knights and Gentlewomen,
who on the day before had diued and ſupt at her houſe, as now
(belike) the ſelfe-ſame courteſie was intended to her: walking along with
her company vpon the way; and the place for her welcome beeing further
off then ſhe expected▪ a Knight chanced to ouertake this faire troop,
who well knowing Madam Oretta, vſing a kinde and courteous ſalutation,
ſpake thus vnto her.
Madam, this foot trauell may bee offenſiue to you, and were you ſo
well pleaſed as my ſelfe, I would eaſe your iourney behinde mee on my
Gelding, euen ſo farre as you ſhall command me: and beſide, wil ſhorten
your wearineſſe with a Tale worth the hearing. Courteous Sir (replyed
the Lady) I embrace your kinde offer with ſuch acceptation, that
I pray you to performe it; for therein you ſhall doe me an eſpeciall fauour.
The Knight, whoſe Sword (perhappes) was as vnſuteable to
his ſide, as his wit out of faſhion for any readie diſcourſe, hauing the
Lady mounted behinde him: rode on with a gentle pace, and (according
to his promiſe) began to tell a Tale, which indeede (of it ſelfe) deſerued
attention, becauſe it was a knowne and commendable Hiſtory,
but yet deliuered ſo abruptly, with idle repetitions of ſome particulars
three or foure ſeuerall times, miſtaking one thing for another, and
wandering erroneouſly from the eſſentiall ſubiect, ſeeming neere an
end, and then beginning againe: that a poore Tale could not poſſibly
be more mangled, or worſe tortured in telling, then this was; for the
perſons therein concerned, we
•
e ſo abuſiuely nicke-named, their actions
and ſpeeches ſo monſtrouſly miſhapen, that nothing could appeare
to be more vgly.
Madame Oretta, being a Lady of vnequalled ingenuitie, admirable
in iudgement, and moſt delicate in her ſpeech, was afflicted in foule, beyond
all meaſure; ouercome with many colde ſweates, and paſſionate
heart-aking qualmes, to ſee a Foole thus in a Pinne-fold, and vnable to
get out, albeit the doore ſtood wide open to him, whereby ſhee became
ſo ſicke; that, conuerting her diſtaſte to a kinde of pleaſing acceptation,
merrily thus ſhe ſpake. Beleeue me Sir, your horſe trots ſo hard, & trauels
ſo vneaſily; that I entreate you to let me walke on foot againe.
The Knight, being (perchance) a better vnderſtander, then a Diſcourſer;
perceiued by this witty taunt, that his Bowle had run a contrarie
bias, and he as farre out of Tune, as he was from the Towne. So,
lingering the time, vntill her company was neerer arriued: hee lefte
her with them, and rode on as his Wiſedome could beſt direct him.
Ciſtio a Baker, by a wittie anſwer which he gaue vnto Meſſer Geri Spina, cauſed him to acknowledge a very indiſcreete motion, which he had made to the ſaid Ciſtio.
The Second Nouell.
Approuing, that a requeſt ought to be ciuill, before it ſhould be granted to any one whatſoeuer.
THE words of Madame Oretta, were much commended by the
men and women; and the diſcourſe being ended, the Queene
gaue command to Madam Pampinea, that ſhee ſhould follow
next in order, which made her to begin in this manner.
Worthy Ladies, it exceedeth the power of my capacitie, to cenſure
in the caſe whereof I am to ſpeake, by ſaying, who ſinned moſt, either
Nature, in ſeating a Noble ſoule in a vile body, or Fortune, in beſtowing
on a body (beautified with a noble ſoule) a baſe or wretched condition
of life. As we may obſerue by Cistio, a Citizen of our owne, and
many more beſide; for, this Cistio beeing endued with a ſingular good
ſpirit▪ Fortune hath made him no better then a Baker. And beleeue me
Ladies, I could (in this caſe) lay as much blame on Nature, as on Fortune;
if I did not know Nature to be moſt abſolutely wiſe, & that Fortune
hath a thouſand eyes, albeit fooles haue figured her to bee blinde.
But, vpon more mature and deliberate conſideration, I finde, that they
both (being truly wiſe and iudicious) haue dealt iuſtly, in imitation of
our beſt aduiſed mortals, who being vncertaine of ſuch inconueniences,
as may happen vnto them, do bury (for their own benefit) the very beſt
and choiſeſt things of eſteeme, in the moſt vile and abiect places of their
houſes, as being ſubiect to leaſt ſuſpition, and where they may be ſure to
haue them at all times, for ſupply of any neceſſitie whatſoeuer, becauſe
ſo baſe a conueyance hath better kept them, then the very beſt chamber
in the houſe could haue done. Euen ſo theſe two great commanders of
the world, do many times hide their moſt precious Iewels of worth, vnder
the clouds of Arts or profeſſions of worſt eſtimation, to the end; that
fetching them thence when neede requires, their ſplendor may appeare
to be the more glorious. Nor was any ſuch matter noted in our homely
Baker Ciſtio, by the beſt obſeruation of Meſſer Geri Spina, who was ſpoken
of in the late repeated Nouell, as being the husband to Madame Oretta;
whereby this accident came to my remembrance, and which (in a
ſhort Tale) I will relate vnto you.
Let me then tell ye, that Pope Boniface (with whom the fore-named
Meſſer Geri Spina was in great regard) hauing ſent diuers Gentlemen of
his Court to Florence as Ambaſſadors, about very ſerious and important
buſineſſe: they were lodged in the houſe of Meſſer Geri Spina, and
he employed (with them) in the ſaide Popes negotiation. It chanced,
that as being the moſt conuenient way for paſſage, euery morning they
walked on foot by the Church of Saint Marie d'Vghi, where Cistio the
Baker dwelt, and exerciſed the trade belonging to him. Now although
Fortune had humbled him to ſo meane a condition, yet ſhee added a
bleſſing of wealth to that contemptible quality, and (as ſmiling on him
continually) no diſaſters at any time befell him, but ſtill he flouriſhed in
riches, liued like a
•
olly Citizen, with all things fitting for honeſt entertainment
about him, and plenty of the beſt Wines (both White and
Claret) as Florence or any part thereabout yeelded.
Our frolicke Baker perceiuing, that Meſſer Geri Spina and the other
Ambaſſadors, vſed euery morning to paſſe by his doore, and afterward
to returne backe the ſame way: ſeeing the ſeaſon to be ſomewhat hot &
ſoultry, he tooke it as an action of kindneſſe and courteſie, to make them
an offer of taſting his white wine. But hauing reſpect to his own meane
degree, and the condition of Meſſer Geri: hee thought it farre vnfitting
for him, to be ſo forward in ſuch preſumption; but rather entred into
conſideration of ſome ſuch meanes, whereby Meſſer Geri might bee the
inuiter of himſelfe to taſte his Wine. And hauing put on him a truſſe
or thin doublet, of very white and fine Linnen cloath, as alſo breeches,
and an apron of the ſame; and a white cap vpon his head, ſo that he ſeemed
rather to be a Miller, then a Baker: at ſuch times as Meſser Geri and
the Ambaſſadors ſhould daily paſſe by, hee ſet before his doore a new
Bucket of faire water, and another ſmall veſſell of Bologna earth (as new
and ſightly as the other) full of his beſt and choiſeſt white Wine, with
two ſmall Glaſſes, looking like ſiluer, they were ſo cleare. Downe he
ſate, with all this prouiſion before him, and emptying his ſtomacke
twice or thrice, of ſome clotted flegmes which ſeemed to offend it: euen
as the Gentlemen were paſſing by, he dranke one or two roufes of his
Wine ſo heartily, and with ſuch a pleaſing appetite, as might haue moued
a longing (almoſt) in a dead man.
Meſſer Geri well noting his behauiour, and obſeruing the verie ſame
courſe in him two mornings together; on the third day (as he was drinking)
he ſaid vnto him. Well done Ciſtio, what, is it good, or no? Ciſtio
ſtarting vp, forwith replyed: Yes Sir, the wine is good indeed, but how
can I make you to beleeue me, except you taſte of it? Meſſer Geri, eyther
in regard of the times quality, or by reaſon of his paines taken, perhaps
more then ordinary, or elſe, becauſe hee ſaw Cistio had drunke ſo
ſprightly, was very deſirous to taſte of the Wine, and turning vnto the
Ambaſſadors, in merriment he ſaide. My Lords, me thinks it were not
much amiſſe, if we tooke a taſte of this honeſt mans Wine, perhaps it is
ſo good, that we ſhall not neede to repent our labour.
Heereupon, he went with them to Cistio, who had cauſed an handſome
ſeate to be fetched forth of his houſe, whereon he requeſted them
to ſit downe, and hauing commanded his men to waſh cleane the Glaſſes,
he ſaide. Fellowes, now get you gone, and leaue me to the performance
of this ſeruice; for I am no worſe a skinker, then a Baker, and tarry
you neuer ſo long, you ſhall not drinke a drop. Hauing thus ſpoken,
himſelfe waſhed foure or fiue ſmall glaſſes, faire and new, and cauſing a
Viall of his beſt wine to be brought him: hee diligently filled it out to
Meſſer Geri and the Ambaſſadours, to whom it ſeemed the very beſt
Wine, that they had drunke of in a long while before. And hauing giuen
Ciſtio moſt hearty thankes for his kindneſſe, and the Wine his due
commendation: many dayes afterwardes (ſo long as they continued
there) they found the like courteous entertainment, and with the good
liking of honeſt Ciſtio.
But when the affayres were fully concluded, for which they wer thus
ſent to Florence, and their parting preparation in due readineſſe: Meſſer
Geri made a very ſumptuous Feaſt for them, inuiting thereto the moſt
part of the honourableſt Citizens, and Ciſtio to be one amongſt them;
who (by no meanes) would bee ſeene in an aſſembly of ſuch State and
pompe, albeit he was thereto (by the ſaide Meſſer Geri) moſt earneſtly
entreated.
In regard of which deniall, Meſſer Geri commaunded one of his ſeruants,
to take a ſmall Bottle, and requeſt Cistio to fill it with his good
Wine; then afterward, to ſerue it in ſuch ſparing manner to the Table,
that each Gentleman might be allowed halfe a glaſſe-full at their down-ſitting.
The Seruing-man, who had heard great report of the Wine,
and was halfe offended, becauſe he could neuer taſte thereof: tooke a
great Flaggon Bottle, containing foure or fiue Gallons at the leaſt, and
comming there-with vnto Cistio, ſaide vnto him. Cistio, becauſe my
Maſter cannot haue your companie among his friends, he prayes you
to Il this Bottle with your beſt Wine. Cistio looking vppon the huge
Flaggon, replyed thus. Honeſt Fellow, Meſſer Geri neuer ſent thee
with ſuch a Meſſage to me: which although the Seruingman very ſtoutly
maintained, yet getting no other anſwer, he returned backe therwith
to his Maſter.
Meſſer Geri returned the Seruant backe againe vnto Cistio, ſaying:
Goe, and aſſure Cistio, that I ſent thee to him, and if hee make thee any
more ſuch anſweres, then demaund of him, to what place elſe I
ſhould ſend thee? Being come againe to Cistio, hee auouched that his
Maiſter had ſent him, but Cistio affirming, that hee did not: the Seruant
asked, to what place elſe hee ſhould ſend him? Marrie (quoth
Cistio) vnto the Riuer of Arno, which runneth by Florence, there thou
mayeſt be ſure to fill thy Flaggon. When the Seruant had reported
this anſwer to Meſſer Geri, the eyes of his vnderſtanding beganne to open,
and calling to ſee what Bottle hee had carried with him: no ſooner
looked he on the huge Flaggon,
but ſeuerely reprouing the
ſawcineſſe of his Seruant, hee
ſayde. Now truſt mee, Ciſtio
told thee nothing but trueth, for
neither did I ſend thee with any
ſuch diſhoneſt meſſage, nor had
the reaſon to yeeld or grant it.
Then he ſent him with a bottle
of more reaſonable competencie,
which ſo ſoone as Ciſtio
ſaw: Yea mary my friend, quoth
he, now I am ſure that thy Maſter
ſent thee to me, and he ſhall
haue his deſire with all my h
•
rt.
So, commaunding the Bottle to
be filled, he ſent it away by the
Seruant, and preſently following
after him, when he came vnto Meſſer Geri, he ſpake vnto him after
this maner. Sir, I would not haue you to imagine, that the huge flaggon
(which firſt came) did any iotte diſmay mee; but rather I conceyued,
that the ſmall Viall whereof you taſted euery morning, yet filled many
mannerly Glaſſes together, was fallen quite out of your remembrance;
it plainer tearmes, it beeing no Wine for Groomes or Peazants,
as your ſelfe affirmed yeſterday. And becauſe I meane to bee
a Skinker no longer, by keeping Wine to pleaſe any other pallate
but mine owne: I haue ſent you halfe my ſtore, and heereafter thinke
of mee as you ſhall pleaſe. Meſſer Geri tooke both his guifte and
ſpeeches in moſt thankefull manner, accepting him alwayes after, as
his intimate Friend, becauſe he had ſo graced him before the Ambaſſadours.
Madame Nonna de Pulci, by a ſodaine anſwere, did put to ſilence a Byſhop of Florence, and the Lord Marſhall: hauing moued a queſtion to the ſaid Lady, whi
•
h ſeemed to come ſhort of honeſty.
The Third Nouell.
W
•
erein is declared, that mockers do ſometimes meete with their matches in mockery, and to their owne ſhame.
WHen Madame Pampinea had ended her Diſcourſe, and
(by the whole company) the anſwere and bounty of Cistio,
had paſt with deſerued commendation: is pleaſed
the Queene, that Madame Lauretta ſhould next ſucceed:
whereupon verie chearefully thus ſhe beganne.
Faire aſſembly, Madame Pampinea (not long time ſince) gaue beginning,
and Madam Philomena hath alſo ſeconded the ſame argument,
concerning the ſlender vertue remaining in our ſexe, and likewiſe the
beautie of wittie words, deliuered on apt occaſion, and in conuenient
meetings. Now, becauſe it is needleſſe to proceede any further, then
what hath beene already ſpoken: let mee onely tell you (ouer and beſide)
and commit it to memorie, that the nature of meetings and ſpeeches
are ſuch, as they ought to nippe or touch the hearer, like vnto the
Sheepes nibling on the tender graſſe, and not as the ſullen Dogge byteth.
For, if their biting be anſwereable to the Dogges, they deſerue
not to be termed witty ieſts or quips, but foule and offenſiue language:
as plainly appeareth by the words of Madame Oretta, and the mery, yet
ſenſible anſwer of Ciſtio.
True it is, that if it be ſpoken by way of anſwer, and the anſwerer biteth
doggedly, becauſe himſelfe was bitten in the ſame manner before:
he is the leſſe to bee blamed, becauſe hee maketh payment but with
coine of the ſame ſtampe. In which reſpect, an eſpeciall care is to bee
had, how, when, with whom, and where we ieſt or gibe, whereof very
many prooue too vnmindfull, as appeared (not long ſince) by a Prelate
of ours, who met with a byting, no leſſe ſharpe and bitter, then
had firſt come from himſelfe before, as verie briefely I intend to tell
you how.
Meſſer Antonio d'Orſo, being Byſhoppe of Florence, a vertuous, wiſe,
and reuerend Prelate; it fortuned that a Gentleman of Catalogna, named
Meſser Diego de la Ratta, and Lord Marſhall to King Robert of Naples,
came thither to viſite him. Hee being a man of very comely perſonage,
and a great obſeruer of the choyſeſt beauties in Court: among
all the other Florentine Dames, one proued to bee moſt pleaſing in his
eye, who was a verie faire Woman indeede, and Neece to the Brother
of the ſaide Meſſer Antonio.
The Husband of this Gentlewoman (albeit deſcended of a worthie
Family) was, neuertheleſſe, immeaſurably couetous, and a verie vile
harſh natured man. Which the Lord Marſhall vnderſtanding, made
ſuch a madde compoſition with him, as to giue him fiue hundred Ducates
of Gold, on condition, that hee would let him lye one night with
his wife, not thinking him ſo baſe minded as to giue conſent. Which in
a greedy auaritious humour he did, and the bargaine being abſolutely agreeed
on; the Lord Marſhall prepared to fit him with a payment, ſuch
as it ſhould be. He cauſed ſo many peeces of ſiluer to be cunningly guilded,
as then went for currant mony in Florence, and called Popolines, &
after he had lyen with the Lady (contrary to her will and knowledge,
her husband had ſo cloſely carried the buſineſſe) the money was duely
paid to the cornuted Coxcombe. Afterwards, this impudent ſhame
chanced to be generally knowne, nothing remaining to the wilful Wittoll,
but loſſe of his expected gaine, and ſcorne in euery place where he
went. The Biſhop likewiſe (beeing a diſcreete and ſober man) would
ſeeme to take no knowledge thereof; but bare out all ſcoffes with a well
ſetled countenance.
Within a ſhort while after, the Biſhop and the Lord Marſhal (alwaies
conuerſing together) it came to paſſe, that vpon Saint Iohns day, they
riding thorow the City, ſide by ſide, and viewing the braue beauties,
which of them might beſt deſerue to win the prize: the Byſhop eſpied a
yong married Lady (which our late greeuous peſtilence bereaued vs of)
ſhe being named Madame Nonna de Pulci, and Couſine to Meſſer Alexio
Rinucci, a Gentleman well knowne vnto vs all. A very goodly beautifull
yong woman ſhe was, of delicate language, and ſingular ſpirite,
dwelling cloſe by S. Peters gate. This Lady did the Biſhop ſhew to the
Marſhall, and when they were come to her, laying his hand vppon her
ſhoulder, he ſaid. Madam Nonna, What thinke you of this Gallant?
Dare you aduenture another wager with him?
Such was the apprehenſion of this witty Lady, that theſe words ſeemed
to taxe her honour, or elſe to contaminate the hearers vnderſtanding,
whereof there were great plenty about her, whoſe iudgement
might be as vile, as the ſpeeches were ſcandalous. Wherefore, neuer
ſeeking for any further purgation of her cleare conſcience, but onely to
retort taunt for taunt, preſently thus ſhe replied. My Lord, if I ſhould
make ſuch a vile aduenture, I would looke to bee payde with better
money.
Theſe words being heard both by the Biſhop and Marſhall, they felt
themſelues touched to the quicke, the one, as the Factor or Broker, for
ſo diſhoneſt a buſineſſe, to the Brother of the Biſhop; and the other, as
receiuing (in his owne perſon) the ſhame belonging to his Brother. So,
not ſo much as looking each on other, or ſpeaking one word together
all the reſt of that day, they rode away with bluſhing cheekes. Whereby
we may collect, that the yong Lady, being ſo iniuriouſly prouoked,
did no more then well became her, to bite their baſeneſſe neerely, that
ſo abuſed her openly.
Chichibio, the Cooke to Meſſer Currado Gianfiliazzi, by a ſodaine pleaſant anſwer which he made to his Master; conuerted his anger into laughter, and thereby eſcaped the puniſhment, that Meſſer meant to impoſe on him.
The Fourth Nouell.
Whereby plainly appeareth, that a ſodaine witty and merry anſwer, doth oftentimes appeaſe the furious choller of an angry man.
MAdam Lauretta ſitting ſilent, and the anſwer of Lady Nonna
hauing paſt with generall applauſe: the Queene commanded
Madame Neiphila to follow next in order; who inſtantly
thus began. Although a ready wit (faire Ladies)
doth many times affoord worthy and commendable ſpeeches,
according to the accidents happening to the ſpeaker: yet notwithſtanding,
Fortune (being a ready helper diuers wayes to the timorous)
doth often tippe the tongue with ſuch a preſent reply, as the partie to
ſpeake, had not ſo much leyſure as to thinke on, not yet to inuent; as I
purpoſe to let you perceiue, by a prety ſhort Nouell.
Meſſer Currado Gianfiliazzi (as moſt of you haue both ſeene and knowen)
liuing alwayes in our Citie, in the eſtate of a Noble Citizen, beeing
a man bountifull, magnificent, and within the degree of Knighthoode:
continually kept both Hawkes and Hounds, taking no meane
delight in ſuch pleaſures as they yeelded, neglecting (for them) farre
more ſerious imployments, wherewith our preſent ſubiect preſumeth
not to meddle. Vpon a day, hauing kilde with his Faulcon a Crane,
neere to a Village called Peretola, and finding her to be both young and
fat, he ſent it to his Cooke, a Venetian borne, and named Chichibio, with
command to haue it prepared for his ſupper. Chichibio, who reſembled
no other, then (as he was indeede) a plaine, ſimple, honeſt mery fellow,
hauing dreſt the Crane as it ought to bee, put it on the ſpit, and laide it
to the fire.
When it was well neere fully roaſted, and gaue forth a very delicate
pleaſing ſauour; it fortuned that a young Woman dwelling not far off,
named Brunetta, and of whom Chichibio was ſomewhat enamored, entred
into the Kitchin, and feeling the excellent ſmell of the Crane, to
pleaſe her beyond all ſauours, that euer ſhe had felt before: ſhe entreated
Chichibio verie earneſtly, that hee would beſtow a legge thereof o
•
her. Whereto Chichibio (like a pleaſant companion, and euermore delighting
in ſinging) ſung her this anſwer.
My Brunetta, faire and feata,
Why ſhould you ſay ſo?
The meate of my Maſter,
Allowes you for no Taſter,
Go from the Kitchin go.
Many other ſpeeches paſt betweene them in a ſhort while, but in the
end, Chichibio, becauſe hee would not haue his Miſtreſſe Brunetta angrie
with him; cut away one of the Cranes legges from the ſpit, and gaue it
to her to eate. Afterward, when the Fowle was ſerued vp to the Table
before Meſſer Carrado, who had inuited certain ſtrangers his friends
to ſup with him, wondering not a little, he called for Chichibio his Cook;
demanding what was become of the Cranes other legge? Whereto
the Venetian (being a lyar by Nature) ſodainely anſwered: Sir, Cranes
haue no more but one legge each Bird. Meſſer Currado, growing verie
angry, replyed. Wilt thou tell me, that a Crane hath no more but one
legge? Did I neuer ſee a Crane before this? Chichibio pe
•
ſiſting reſolutely
in his deniall, ſaide. Beleeue me Sir, I haue told you nothing but
the truth, and when you pleaſe, I wil make good my wordes, by ſuch
Fowles as are liuing.
Meſſer Currado, in kinde loue to the ſtrangers that hee had inuited to
ſupper, gaue ouer any further conteſtation; onely he ſaid. Seeing thou
aſſureſt me, to let me ſee thy affirmation for truth, by other of the ſame
Fowles liuing (a thing which as yet I neuer ſaw, or heard of) I am content
to make proofe thereof to morrow morning, till then I ſhall reſt ſatisfied:
but, vpon my word, if I finde it otherwiſe, expect ſuch a ſound
payment, as thy knauery iuſtly deſerueth, to make thee remember it all
thy life time. The contention ceaſſing for the night ſeaſon, Meſſer Currado,
who though he had ſlept well, remained ſtill diſcontented in his
minde: aroſe in the morning by breake of day, and puffing & blowing
angerly, called for his horſes, commanding Chichibio to mount on one
of them; ſo riding on towards the Riuer, where (earely euery morning)
he had ſ
•
ene plenty of Cranes, he ſayde to his man; We ſhall ſee anon
Sirra, whether thou or I lyed yeſternight.
Chichibio perceiuing, that his Maſters anger was not (as yet) aſſwaged,
and now it ſtood him vpon, to make good his lye; not knowing how he
ſhould do it, rode after his Maſter, fearfully trembling all the way. Gladly
he would haue made an eſcape, but hee could not by any poſſible
meanes, and on euery ſide he looked about him, now before, and after
behinde, to eſpy any Cranes ſtanding on both their legges, which would
haue bin an ominous ſight to him. But being come neere to the Riuer,
he chanced to ſee (before any of the reſt) vpon the banke thereof, about
a dozen Cranes in number, each of them ſtanding but vpon one legge,
as they vſe to do when they are ſleeping. Whereupon, ſhewing them
quickly to Meſſer Currado, he ſaid. Now Sir your ſelfe may ſee, whether
I told you true yeſternight, or no: I am ſure a Crane hath but one
thigh, and one leg, as all here preſent are apparant witneſſes, and I haue
bin as good as my promiſe.
Meſſer Currado looking on the Cranes, and well vnderſtanding the
knauery of his man, replyed: Stay but a little while ſirra, & I will ſhew
thee, that a Crane hath two thighes, and two legges. Then riding ſomwhat
neerer to them, he cryed out aloud, Shough, ſhough, which cauſed
them to ſet downe their other legs, and all fled away, after they had
made a few paces againſt the winde for their mounting. So going vnto
Chichibio, he ſaid: How now you lying Knaue, hath a Crane two legs,
or no? Chichibio being well-neere at his wits end, not knowing now
what anſwer hee ſhould make; but euen as it came ſodainly into his
minde, ſaid: Sir, I perceiue you are in the right, and if you would haue
done as much yeſternight, and had cryed Shough, as here you did: queſtionleſſe,
the Crane would then haue ſet down the other legge, as theſe
heere did: but if (as they) ſhe had fled away too, by that meanes you
might haue loſt your Supper.
This ſodaine and vnexpected witty anſwere, comming from ſuch a
logger-headed Lout, and ſo ſeaſonably for his owne ſafety: was ſo pleaſing
to Meſſer Currado, that he fell into a hearty laughter, and forgetting
all anger, ſaide. Chichibio, thou haſt quit thy ſelfe well, and to my
contentment: albeit I aduiſe thee, to teach mee no more ſuch trickes
heereafter. Thus Chichibio, by his ſodaine and merry anſwer, eſcaped
a ſound beating, which (otherwiſe) his maſter had inflicted on him.
Meſſer Foreſe da Rabatte, and Maiſter Giotto, a Painter by his profeſsion, comming together from Mugello, ſcornfully reprehended one another for their deformity of body.
The Fift Nouell.
Whereby may bee obſerued, that ſuch as will ſpeake contemptibly of others, ought (first of all) to looke reſpectiuely on their owne imperfections.
SO ſoone as Madame Neiphila
ſate ſilent (the Ladies
hauing greatly commended
the pleaſant anſwer of Chichibio)
Pamphilus, by command
from the Queene, ſpake in this
manner. Woorthy Ladies, it
commeth to paſſe oftentimes,
that like as Fortune is obſerued
diuers wayes, to hide vnder vile
and contemptible Arts, the moſt
great and vnvalewable treaſures
of vertue (as, not long ſince, was
well diſcourſed vnto vs by Madame
Pampinea:) ſo in like manner
hath appeared; that Nature
hath infuſed very ſingular ſpirits
into moſt miſhapen and deformed bodies of men. As hath beene noted
in two of our owne Citizens, of whom I purpoſe to ſpeake in fewe
words. The one of them was named Meſſer Foreſe de Rabatta, a man
of little and low perſon, but yet deformed in body, with a flat face, like
a Terrier or Beagle, as if no compariſon (almoſt) could bee made more
vgly. But notwithſtanding all this deformity, he was ſo ſingularly experienced
in the Lawes, that all men held him beyond any equall, or rather
reputed him as a Treaſury of ciuill knowledge.
The other man, being named Giotto, had a ſpirit of ſo great excellency,
as there was not any particular thing in Nature, the Mother and
Worke-miſtreſſe of all, by continuall motion of the heauens; but hee
by his pen and penſell could perfectly portrait; ſhaping them all ſo truly
alike and reſemblable, that they were taken for the reall matters indeede;
and, whether they were preſent or no, there was hardly any poſſibility
of their diſtinguiſhing. So that many times it happened, that by
the variable deuiſes he made, the viſible ſence of men became deceiued,
in crediting thoſe things to he naturall, which were but meerly painted.
By which meanes, hee reduced that ſingular Art to light, which long
time before had lyen buried, vnder the groſſe error of ſome; who, in the
myſterie of painting, delighted more to content the ignorant, then to
pleaſe the iudicious vnderſtanding of the wiſe, he iuſtly deſeruing thereby,
to be tearmed one of the Florentines moſt glorious lights. And ſo
much the rather, becauſe he performed all his actions, in the true and
lowly ſpirit of humility: for while he liued, and was a Maſter in his Art,
aboue all other Painters: yet he refuſed any ſuch title, which ſhined the
more maieſtically in him, as appeared by ſuch, who knew much leſſe
then he, or his Schollers either: yet his knowledge was extreamly coueted
among them.
Now, notwithſtanding all this admirable excellency in him: he was
not (thereby) a iot the handſommer man (either in perſon or countenance)
then was our fore-named Lawyer Meſſer Foreſe, and therefore
my Nouell concerneth them both. Vnderſtand then (faire Aſſemblie)
that the poſſeſſions and inheritanees of Meſſer Foreſe and Giotto, lay in
Mugello; wherefore, when Holy-dayes were celebrated by Order of
Court, and in the Sommer time, vpon the admittance of ſo apt a vacation;
Foreſe rode thither vpon a very vnſightly Iade, ſuch as a man can
can ſildome meet with worſe. The like did Giotto the Painter, as ill fitted
euery way as the other; and hauing diſpatched their buſines there,
they both returned backe towards Florence, neither of them being able
to boaſt, which was the beſt mounted.
Riding on a faire and ſoftly pace, becauſe their Horſes could goe no
faſter: and they being well entred into yeeres, it fortuned (as oftentimes
the like befalleth in Sommer) that a ſodaine ſhowre of raine ouer-tooke
them; for auoyding whereof, they made all poſſible haſte to a poore
Countrey-mans Cottage, familiarly knowne to them both. Hauing
continued there an indifferent while, and the raine vnlikely to ceaſe: to
preuent all further protraction of time, and to arriue at Florence in due
ſeaſon; they borrowed twoold cloakes of the poore man, of ouer-worn
and ragged Country gray, as alſo two hoodes of the like Complexion,
becauſe the poore man had no better) which did more miſ
•
ape them,
then their owne vgly deformity, and made them notoriouſly flouted
and ſcorned, by all that met or ouertooke them.
After they had ridden ſome diſtance of ground, much moyled and
bemyred with their ſhuffling Iades, flinging the dirt euery way about
them, that well they might be termed two filthy companions: the raine
gaue ouer, and the euening looking ſomwhat cleare, they began to confer
familiarly together. Meſſer Foreſe, riding a lofty French trot, euerie
ſtep being ready to hoiſe him out of his ſaddle, hearing Giottos diſcreete
anſwers to euery ydle queſtion he made (for indeede he was a very elegant
ſpeaker) began to peruſe and ſurueigh him, euen from the foote to
the head, as we vſe to ſay. And perceiuing him to be ſo greatly deformed,
as no man could be worſe, in his opinion: without any conſideration
of his owne miſhaping as bad, or rather more vnſightly then hee;
in a ſcoffing laughing humour, hee ſaide Giotto, doeſt thou imagine▪
that a ſtranger, who had neuer ſeene thee before, and ſhould now happen
into our companie, would beleeue thee to bee the beſt Painter in
the world, as indeede thou art? Preſently Giotto (without any further
meditation) returned him this anſwere. Signior Foreſe, I think he might
then beleeue it, when (beholding you) hee could imagine that you had
learned your A. B. C. Which when Foreſe heard, he knew his owne error,
and ſaw his payment returned in ſuch Coine, as he ſold his Wares
for.
A yong and ingenious Scholler, being vnkindly reuiled and ſmitten by his ignorant Father, and through the procurement of an vnlearned Vicare; afterward attained to be doubly reuenged on him.
The Sixth Nouell.
Seruing as an aduertiſement to vnlearned Parents, not to bee ouer-raſh, in cenſuring on Schollers perfections, through any badde or vnbeſeeming perſwaſions.
THE Ladies ſmiled very heartily, at the ready anſwer of Giotto;
vntill the Queene charged Madam Fiammetta, that ſhee ſhould
next ſucceed in order: whereupon, thus ſhe began. The verie
greateſt infelicity that can happen to a man, and moſt inſupportable of
all other, is Ignorance; a word (I ſay) which hath bin ſo general, as vnder
it is comprehended all imperfections whatſoeuer. Yet notwithſtanding,
whoſoeuer can cull (graine by graine) the defects incident to humane
race; will and muſt confeſſe, that wee are not all borne to knowledge:
but onely ſuch, whom the heauens illuminating by their bright radiance
(wherein conſiſteth the ſourſe and well-ſpring of all ſcience) by little &
little, do beſtow the influence of their bounty, on ſuch and ſo manie as
they pleaſe, who are to expreſſe themſelues the more thankfull for ſuch
a bleſſing. And although this grace doth leſſen the misfortune of many,
which were ouer-mighty to bee in all; yet ſome there are, who by
ſawcie preſuming on themſelues, doe bewray their ignorance by theyr
owne ſpeeches; ſetting ſuch behauiour on each matter, and ſoothing euery
thing with ſuch grauity, euen as if they would make compariſon:
or (to ſpeake more properly) durſt encounter in the Liſtes with great
Salomon or Socrates. But let vs leaue them, and come to the matter of
our purpoſed Nouell.
In a certaine Village of Piccardie, there liued a Prieſt or Vicar, who
beeing meerely an ignorant blocke, had yet ſuch a peremptorie preſuming
ſpirite: as, though it was ſufficiently diſcerned, yet hee beguiled
many thereby, vntill at laſt he deceyued himſelfe, and with due chaſtiſement
to his folly.
A plaine Husbandman dwelling in the ſame Village, poſſeſſed of
much Land and Liuing, but verie groſſe and dull in vnderſtanding; by
the entreaty of diuers his Friends and Well-willers, ſome-thing more
intelligable then himſelfe: became incited, or rather prouoked, to ſend a
Sonne of his to the Vniuerſity of Paris, to ſtudy there as was fitting for a
Scholler. To the end (quoth they) that hauing but this Son onely, and
Fortunes bleſſings abounding in ſtore for him: hee might likewiſe haue
the riches of the minde, which are thoſe true treaſures indeede, that Ariſtippus
giueth vs aduice to be furniſhed withall.
His Friends perſwaſions hauing preuailed, and hee continued at
for the ſpace of three yeares: what with the documents he had attayned
to, before his going thither, and by meanes of a happie memory in the
time of his being there, wherewith no young man was more ſingularly
endued (in ſo ſhort a while) he attained and performed the greater part
of his Studies.
Now, as oftentimes it commeth to paſſe, the loue of a Father (ſurmounting
all other affections in man) made the olde Farmer deſirous to
ſee his Sonne: which cauſed his ſending for him with all conuenient
ſpeede, and obedience vrged his as forward willingneſſe thereto. The
good olde man, not a little ioyfull to ſee him in ſo good condition and
health, and encreaſed ſo much in ſtature ſince his parting thence: familiarly
told him, that he earneſtly deſired to know, if his minde and body
had attained to a competent and equall growth, which within three or
foure dayes he would put in practiſe.
No other helpe had he ſilly ſimple man, but Maſter Vicar muſt bee
the queſtioner and poſer of his ſon: wherein the Prieſt was very vnwilling
to meddle, for feare of diſcouering his owne ignorance, which paſſed
vnder better opinion then he deſerued. But the Farmer beeing imimportunate,
and the Vicar many wayes beholding to him, durſt not returne
deniall, but vndertooke it very formally, as if he had bene an able
man indeede.
But ſee how Fooles are borne to be fortunate, and where they leaſt
hope, there they find the beſt ſucceſſe; the ſimplicitie of the Father, muſt
be the meanes for abuſing his Schollerly Son, and a skreene to ſtand betweene
the Prieſt and his ignorance. Earneſt is the olde man to know,
what and how farre his Sonne had profited at Schoole, and by what
note he might beſt take vnderſtanding of his anſweres: which iumping
fit with the Vicars vanity, and a warrantable cloake to couer his knauery;
he appoints him but one word onely, namely Neſcio, wherewith
if he anſwered to any of his demands, it was an euident token, that hee
vnderſtood nothing. As thus they were walking and conferring in the
Church, the Farmer very carefull to remember the word Neſcio: it came
to paſſe vpon a ſodaine, that the young man entred into them, to the
great contentment of his Father, who prayed Maſter Vicar, to make approbation
of his Sonne, whether he were learned, or no, and how hee
had benefited at the Vniuerſity?
After the time of the daies ſalutations had paſt betweene them, the
Vicar being ſubtle and crafty, as they walked along by one of the tombs
in the Church; pointing with his finger to the Tombe, the Prieſt vttered
theſe words to the Scholler.
Quis hic eſt ſepultus?
The yong Scholler (by reaſon it was erected ſince his departure, and
finding no inſcription whereby to informe him) anſwered, as well hee
might, Neſcio. Immediately the Father, keeping the word perfectly
in his memorie, grewe verie angerly paſſionate; and, deſiring to
heare no more demaunds: gaue him three or foure boxes on the cares▪
with many harſh and iniurious ſpeeches, tearming him an Aſſe and Villaine,
and that he had not learned any thing. His Sonne was pacien
•
,
and returned no anſwer, but plainly perceiued, that this was a tricke intended
againſt him, by the malicious treachery of the Prieſt, on whom
(in time) he might be reuenged.
Within a ſhort while after, the Suffragane of thoſe parts (vnder whom
the Prieſt was but a Deputy, holding the benefice of him, with no great
charge to his conſcience) being abroad in his viſitation, ſent word to the
Vicar, that he intended to preach there on the next Sunday, and hee to
prepare in a readineſſe, Bonum & Commodum, becauſe hee would haue
nothing elſe to his dinner. Heereat Maſter Vicar was greatly amazed,
becauſe he had neuer heard ſuch words before, neither could hee finde
them in all his Breuiarie. Hereupon, he went to the yong ſcholler, whom
he had ſo lately before abuſed, and crying him mercy, with many impudent
and ſhallow excuſes, deſired him to reueale the meaning of thoſe
words, and what he ſhould vnderſtand by Bonum & Commodum.
The Scholler (with a ſober and modeſt countenance) made anſwere;
That he had bin ouer-much abuſed, which (neuertheleſſe) he tooke not
ſo impaciently, but hee had already both forgot and forgiuen it, with
promiſe of comfort in this his extraordinary diſtraction, and greefe of
minde. When he had peruſed the Suffraganes Letter, well obſeruing
the bluſhleſſe ignorance of the Prieſt: ſeeming (by outward appearance)
to take it ſtrangely, he cryed out alowd, ſaying; In the name of Vertue,
what may be this mans meaning? How? (quoth the Prieſt) What maner
of demand do you make? Alas, replyed the Scholler, you haue but
one poore Aſſe, which I know you loue deerely, and yet you muſt ſtew
his genitories very daintily, for your Patron will haue no other meat to
his dinner. The genitories of mine Aſſe, anſwered the Prieſt? Paſſion
of me, who then ſhall carrie my Corne to the Mill? There is no remedie,
ſayde the Scholler, for he hath ſo ſet it downe for an abſolute reſolution.
After that the Prieſt had conſidered thereon a while by himſelfe, remembring
the yearely reuennewes, which clearely hee put vp into his
purſe, to be ten times of farre greater worth then his Aſſe: he concluded
to haue him gelded, what danger ſoeuer ſhould enſue thereon, preparing
them in readineſſe againſt his comming. So ſoone as the Suffragan
was there arriued, heauily hee complained to him for his Aſſe: which
kinde of Language he not vnderſtanding, knew not what he meant, nor
how he ſhould anſwer. But beeing (by the Scholler) acquainted with
the whole Hiſtory, he laughed heartily at the Prieſts ignorant folly, wiſhing
that all ſuch bold Bayards (from time to time) might be ſo ſerued.
Likewiſe, that all ignorant Prieſts, Vicars, and other Graſhoppers of
Townes or Villages, who ſometimes haue onely ſeene Partes
••
ationis
quod ſunt, not to ſtand ouer-much on their owne ſufficiency, grounded
ſoly vpon their Grammar; but to beware whom they ieſt withall, without
out medling with Schollers, who take not iniuries as dullards doe, leaſt
they proue infamous by then diſputations.
Madam Phillippa, being accuſed by her Husband Rinaldo de Puglie
•
e, becauſe he tooke her in Adulterie, with a yong Gentleman named Lazar
•
no de Guazzagliotri: cauſed her to bee cited before the Iudge. From whom ſhe deliuered her ſelfe, by a ſodaine, witty, and pleaſant anſwer, and moderated a ſeuere ſtrict Statute, formerly made againſt women.
The Seuenth Nouell.
Wherein is declared, of what worth it is to confeſſe a trueth, with a facetious and witty excuſe.
AFter that Madame Fiammetta had giuen ouer ſpeaking, and all
the Auditory had ſufficiently applauded the Schollers honeſt
reuenge, the Queene enioyned Philostratus, to proceede on
next with his Nouell, which cauſed him to begin thus. Beleeue
me Ladies, it is an excellent & moſt commendable thing, to ſpeak
well, and to all purpoſes: but I hold it a matter of much greater worth,
to know how to do it, and when neceſſity doth moſt require it. Which
a Gentlewoman (of whom I am now to ſpeake) was ſo well enſtructed
in, as not onely it yeelded the hearers mirthfull contentment, but likewiſe
deliuered her from the danger of death, as (in few words) you ſhal
heare related.
In the Citie of Pirato, there was an Edict or Statute, no leſſe blameworthy
(to ſpeake vprightly) then moſt ſeuere and cruell, which (without
making any diſtinction) gaue ſtrict command; That euerie Woman
ſhould be burned with fire, whoſe husband found her in the acte of Adultery,
with any ſecret or familiar friend, as one deſeruing to bee thus
abandoned, like ſuch as proſtituted their bodies to publike ſale or hire.
During the continuance of this ſharpe Edict, it fortuned that a Gentlewoman,
who was named Phillippa, was found in her Chamber one
night, in the armes of a yong Gentleman of the ſame City, named Lazarino
de Guazzagliotori, and by her owne husband, called Rinaldo de
Puglieſe, ſhee louing the young Gallant, as her owne life, becauſe hee
was moſt compleate in all perfections, and euery way as deerely addicted
to her.
This ſight was ſo irkeſome to Rinaldo, that, being ouercom with extreame
rage, hee could hardly containe from running on them, with a
violent intent to kill them both: but feare of his owne life cauſed his
forbearance, meaning to be reuenged by ſome better way. Such was
the heate of his ſpleene and fury, as, ſetting aſide all reſpect of his owne
ſhame: he would needs proſecute the rigour of the deadly Edict, which
he held lawfull for him to do, although it extended to the death of his
Wife. Heereupon, hauing witneſſes ſufficient, to approoue the guiltineſſe
of her offence: a day being appointed (without deſiring any other
counſell) he went in perſon to accuſe her, and required iuſtice againſt
her.
The Gentlewoman, who was of an high and vndauntable ſpirite, as
all ſuch are, who haue fixed their affection reſoluedly, and loue vppon a
grounded deliberation: concluded, quite againſt the counſell and opinion
of her Parents, Kindred, and Friends; to appeare in the Court, as
deſiring rather to dye, by confeſſing the trueth with a manly courage,
then by denying it, and her loue vnto ſo worthy a perſon as he was, in
whoſe arms ſhe chanced to be taken; to liue baſely in exile with ſhame,
as an eternall ſcandall to her race. So, before the Poteſtate, ſhee made
her apparance, worthily accompanied both with men and women, all
aduiſing her to deny the acte: but ſhe, not minding them or their perſwaſions,
looking on the Iudge with a conſtant countenance, and a
voyce of ſetled reſolue, craued to know of him, what hee demaunded
of her?
The Poteſtate well noting her braue carriage, her ſingular beautie
and praiſe-worthy parts, her words apparantly witneſſing the heighth
of her minde: beganne to take compaſſion on her, and doubted, leaſt
ſhee would confeſſe ſome ſuch matter, as ſhould enforce him to pronounce
the ſentence of death againſt her. But ſhe boldly ſcorning all
delayes, or any further protraction of time; demanded again, what was
her accuſation? Madame, anſwered the Poteſtate, I am ſory to tel you,
what needs I muſt, your husband (whom you ſee preſent heere) is the
cōplainant againſt you, auouching, that he tooke you in the act of adultery
with another man: and therefore he requireth, that, according to
the rigour of the Statute heere in force with vs, I ſhould pronounce
ſentence againſt you, and (conſequently) the infliction of death. Which
I cannot do, if you confeſſe not the fact, and therefore be well aduiſed,
how you anſwer me, and tell me the truth, if it be as your Husband accuſeth
you, or no.
The Lady, without any diſmay or dread at all, pleaſantly thus replied.
My Lord, true it is, that Rinaldo is my Husband, and that he found
me, on the night named, betweene the Armes of Lazarino, where many
times heeretofore he hath embraced mee, according to the mutuall
loue re-plighted together, which I deny not, nor euer will. But you
know well enough, and I am certaine of it, that the Lawes enacted in any
Countrey, ought to be common, and made with conſent of them
whom they concerne, which in this Edict of yours is quite contrarie.
For it is rigorous againſt none, but poore women onely, who are able
to yeeld much better content and ſatisfaction generally, then remaineth
in the power of men to do. And moreouer, when this Law was made,
there was not any woman that gaue conſent to it, neither were they called
to like or allow thereof: in which reſpect, it may deſeruedly be termed,
an vniuſt Law. And if you will, in preiudice of my bodie, and of
your owne ſoule, be the executioner of ſo vnlawfull an Edict, it conſiſteth
in your power to do as you pleaſe.
But before you proceede to pronounce any ſentence, may it pleaſe
you to fauour me with one ſmall requeſt, namely, that you would demand
of my Husband, if at all times, and whenſoeuer he tooke delight
in my company, I euer made any curioſity, or came to him vnwillingly.
Whereto Rinaldo, without tarrying for the Poteſtate to mooue the
queſtion, ſodainly anſwered; that (vndoubtedly) his wife at all times,
and oftner then he could requeſt it, was neuer ſparing of her kindneſſe,
or put him off with any deniall. Then the Lady, continuing on her
former ſpeeches, thus replyed. Let me then demand of you my Lord,
being our Poteſtate and Iudge, if it be ſo, by my Husbands owne free
confeſſion, that he hath alwaies had his pleaſure of me, without the leaſt
refuſall in me, or contradiction; what ſhould I doe with the ouer-plus
remaining in mine owne power, and whereof he had no need? Would
you haue mee caſt it away to the Dogges? Was it not more fitting for
me, to pleaſure therwith a worthy Gentleman, who was euen at deaths
doore for my loue, then (my husbands ſurfetting, and hauing no neede
of me) to let him lye languiſhing, and dye?
Neuer was heard ſuch an examination before, and to come from a
woman of ſuch worth, the moſt part of the honourable Pratoſians (both
Lords and Ladies) being there preſent, who hearing her vrge ſuch a neceſſary
queſtion, cryed out all aloud together with one voice (after they
had laughed their fill) that the Lady had ſaide well, and no more then
ſhe might. So that, before they departed thence, by comfortable aduice
proceeding from the Poteſtate: the Edict (being reputed ouercruell)
was modified, and interpreted to concerne them onely, who offered
iniurie to their Husbands for money. By which meanes, Rinaldo
ſtanding as one confounded, for ſuch a fooliſh and vnaduiſed enterprize,
departed from the Auditorie: and the Ladie, not a little ioyfull to bee
thus freed and deliuered from the fire, returned home with victorie to
her owne houſe.
Freſco da Celatico, counſelled and aduiſed his Neece Ceſca: That if ſuch as deſerued to be looked on, were offenſiue to her eyes, as ſhe had often told him; ſhe ſhould forbeare to looke on any.
The Eighth Nouell.
In iust ſcorne of ſuch vnſightly and ill-pleaſing ſurly Sluts, who imagine none to be faire or well-fauoured, but themſelues.
ALL the while as Philoſtratus was re-counting his Nouell;
it ſeemed, that the Ladies (who heard it) found themſelues
much mooued thereat, as by the wanton blood monting
vp into their cheekes, it plainly appeared. But in the end,
looking on each other with ſtrange behauiour, they could
not forbeare ſmiling: which the Queene interrupting by a command of
attention, turning to Madame Aemillia, willed her to follow next. When
ſhe, puffing and blowing, as if ſhe had bene newly awaked from ſleepe,
began in this manner.
Faire Beauties; My thoughts hauing wandred a great diſtance hence,
and further then I can eaſily collect them together againe; in obedience
yet to our Queene, I ſhall report a much ſhorter Nouell, then otherwiſe
(perhappes) I ſhould haue done, if my minde had beene a little neerer
home. I ſhall tell you the groſſe fault of a fooliſh Damoſell, well corrected
by a witty reprehenſion of her Vnckle; if ſhee had bin endued but
with ſo much ſence, as to haue vnderſtood it.
An honeſt man, named Freſco da Celatico, had a good fulſom wench to
his Neece, who for her folly and ſquemiſhnes, was generally called Ceſta,
or nice Franceſca. And although ſhe had ſtature ſufficient, yet none of
the handſomeſt, & a good hard fauourd countenance, nothing nere ſuch
Angelical beauties as we haue ſeen: yet ſhe was endued with ſuch height
of minde, and ſo proud an opinion of her ſelfe, that it appeared as a cuſtome
bred in hir, or rather a gift beſtowed on hir by nature (thogh none
of the beſt) to blame and deſpiſe both men and women, yea whoſoeuer
ſhe lookt on; without any conſideration of her ſelf, ſhe being as vnſightly,
ill ſhaped, and vgly faced, as a worſe was very hardly to be found.
Nothing could be done at any time, to yeilde her liking or content:
moreouer, ſhe was ſo waſpiſh, nice, & ſquemiſh, that when ſhe cam into
the royall Court of France, it was hatefull & contemptible to hir. Whenſoeuer
ſhe went through the ſtreets, euery thing ſtunke and was noiſome
to her; ſo that ſhe neuer did any thing but ſtop her noſe; as if all men or
women ſhe met withall; and whatſoeuer elſe ſhe lookt on, were ſtinking
and offenſiue. But let vs leaue all further relation of her ill conditions,
being euery way (indeed) ſo bad, and hardly becomming any ſenſible
body, that we cannot condemne them ſo much as we ſhould.
It chanced vpon a day, that ſhee comming home to the houſe where
her Vnckle dwelt, declared her wonted ſcuruy and ſcornfull behauiour;
ſwelling, puffing, and pouting extreamly, in which humor ſhe ſat downe
by her Vnckle, who deſiring to know what had diſpleaſed her, ſaid. Why
how now Franceſca? what may the meaning of this bee? This being a ſolemne
feſtiuall day, what is the reaſon of your ſo ſoone returning home?
She coily biting the lip, and brideling her head, as if ſhe had bene ſome
mans beſt Gelding, ſprucely thus replyed.
Indeede you ſay true Vnckle, I am come home verie earely, becauſe,
ſince the day of my birth, I neuer ſaw a City ſo peſtered with vnhandſome
people, both men and women, and worſe this high Holyday then
euer I did obſerue before. I walked thorow ſome ſtore of ſtreetes, and I
could not ſee one proper man: and as for the women, they are the moſt
miſhapen and vgly creatures, that, if God had made me ſuch an one, I
ſhould be ſory that euer I was borne. And being no longer able to endure
ſuch vnpleaſing ſights; you wil not thinke (Vnckle) in what an anger
I am come home. Freſco, to whome theſe ſtinking qualities of his
Neece ſeemed ſo vnſufferable, that hee could not (with patience) endure
them any longer, thus ſhort and quickely anſwered. Franceſca, if
all people of our Citie (both men and women) be ſo odious in thy eyes,
and offenſiue to thy noſe, as thou haſt often reported to me: bee aduiſed
then by my counſell. Stay ſtil at home, and look vpon none but thy ſelfe
onely, and then thou ſhalt be ſure that they cannot diſpleaſe thee. But
ſhee, being as empty of wit as a pith-leſſe Cane, and yet thought her
iudgement to exceed Salomons, could not vnderſtand the leſt part of hir
Vnkles meaning, but ſtood as ſenſeleſſe as a ſheepe. Onely ſhe replyed,
that ſhe would reſort to ſome other parts of the country, which if ſhee
found as weakly furniſhed of handſome people, as heere ſhee did, ſhee
would conceiue better of her ſelfe, then euer ſhe had done before.
Signior Guido Caualcante, with a ſodaine and witty anſwer, reprehended the raſh folly of certaine Florentine Gentlemen, that thought to ſcorne and flout him.
The Ninth Nouell.
Notably diſcouering the great difference that is betweene learning and ignorance, vpon iudicious apprehenſion.
WHen the Queene perceiued, that Madame Aemillia was diſcharged
of her Nouell, and none remained now to ſpeake next, but
onely her ſelfe, his priuiledge alwayes remembred, to whom it
belonged to be the laſt, ſhe began in this manner.
Faire Company, you haue this day diſappointed me of two Nouells
at the leaſt, whereof I had intended to make vſe. Neuertheleſſe, you
ſhall not imagine mee ſo vnfurniſhed, but that I haue left one in ſtore;
the concluſion whereof, may miniſter ſuch inſtruction, as will not bee
reputed for ydle and impertinent: but rather of ſuch materiall conſequence,
as better hath not this day paſt among vs.
Vnderſtand then (moſt faire Ladies) that in former times long ſince
paſt, our Cittie had many excellent and commendable cuſtomes in it;
whereof (in theſe vnhappy dayes of ours) we cannot ſay that poore
one remaineth, ſuch hath beene the too much encreaſe of Wealth and
Couetouſneſſe, the onely ſupplanters of all good qualities whatſoeuer.
Among which lawdable and friendly obſeruations, there was one well
deſeruing note, namely, that in diuers places of Florence, men of the beſt
houſes in euery quarter, had a ſociable and neighbourly aſſemblie together,
creating their company to conſiſt of a certaine number, ſuch as
were able to ſupply their expences; as this day one, and to morrow another:
and thus in a kinde of friendly courſe, each daily furniſhed the
Table, for the reſt of the company. Oftentimes, they did honour to diuers
Gentlemen and ſtrangers, vpon their arriuall in our Citty, by inuiting
them into their aſſembly, and many of our worthieſt Citizens beſide;
ſo that it grew to a cuſtomary vſe, and one eſpecially day in the
yeare appointed, in memory of this ſo louing a meeting, when they
would ride (triumphally as it were) on horſebacke thorow the Cittie,
ſometimes performing Tilts, Tourneyes, and other Martiall exerciſes,
but they were reſerued for Feaſtiuall dayes.
Among which company, there was one called, Signior Betto Bruneleſchi,
who was earneſtly deſirous, to procure Signior Guido Caualcante
de Caualcanti, to make one in this their friendly ſociety. And not without
great reaſon: for, ouer and beſide his being one of the beſt Logitians
as thoſe times could not yeeld a better: He was alſo a moſt abſolute naturall
Philoſopher (which wortby qualities were little eſteemed among
theſe honeſt meeters) a very friendly Gentleman, ſingularly well ſpoken,
and whatſoeuer elſe was commendable in any man, was no way
wanting in him, being wealthy withall, and able to returne equall honors,
where he found them to be duly deſerued, as no man therin could
go beyond him. But Signior Betto, notwithſtanding his long continued
importunitie, could not draw him into their aſſembly, which made him
and the reſt of his company conceiue, that the ſolitude of Guid
•
, retiring
himſelfe alwaies from familiar conuerſing with men: prouoked him to
many curious ſpeculations: and becauſe he retained ſome part of the
Epicurean Opinion, their vulgare iudgement paſſed on him, that his
ſpeculations tended to no other end, but onely to finde out that which
was neuer done.
It chanced vpon a day, that Signior Guido departing from the Church
of Saint Michaell d'Horta, and paſſing along by the Adamari, ſo farre as
to Saint Iohns Church, which euermore was his cuſtomarie Walke: many
goodly Marble Tombes were then about the ſaide Church, as now
adayes are at Saint Reparata, and diuers more beſide. He entring among
the Collumbes of Porphiry, and the other Sepulchers being there, becauſe
the doore of the Church was ſhut: Signior Betto & his companie,
came riding from S. Reparata, & eſpying Signior Guido among the graues
and tombes, ſaid. Come, let vs go make ſome ieſts to anger him. So putting
the ſpurs to their horſes, they rode apace towards him: and being
vpon him before he perceiued them, one of them ſaid. Guido thou refuſeſt
to be one of our ſociety, & ſeekeſt for that which neuer was: when
thou haſt found it, tell vs, what wilt thou do with it?
Guido ſeeing himſelfe round engirt with them, ſodainly thus replyed:
Gentlemen, you may vſe mee in your owne houſe as you pleaſe.
And ſetting his hand on one of the Tombes (which was ſome-what
great) he tooke his riſing, and leapt quite ouer it on the further ſide, as
being of an agile and ſprightly body, and being thus freed from them,
he went away to his owne lodging. They ſtoode all like men amazed,
ſtrangely looking one vpon another, and began afterward to murmure
among themſelues: That Guido was a man without any vnderſtanding,
and the anſwer which he had made vnto them, was to no purpoſe, neither
ſauoured of any diſcretion, but meerely came from an empty brain
becauſe they had no more to do in the place where now they were, then
any of the other Citizens, and Signior Guido (himſelfe) as little as any
of them; whereto Signior Betto thus replyed.
Alas Gentlemen, it is you your ſelues that are void of vnderſtanding:
for, if you had but obſerued the anſwer which he made vnto vs: hee did
honeſtly, and (in verie few words) not onely notably expreſſe his owne
wiſedome, but alſo deſeruedly reprehend vs. Becauſe, if wee obſerue
things as we ought to doe, Graues and Tombes are the houſes of the
dead, ordained and prepared to be their lateſt dwellings. He tolde vs
moreouer, that although we haue heere (in this life) other habitations
and abidings; yet theſe (or the like) muſt at laſt be our houſes. To let
vs know, and all other fooliſh, indiſcreete, and vnlearned men, that we
are worſe then dead men, in compariſon of him, and other men equall
to him in skill and learning. And therefore, while wee are heere among
theſe Graues and Monuments, it may well be ſaid, that we are not farre
from our owne houſes, or how ſoone we ſhall be poſſeſſors of them, in
regard of the frailty attending on vs.
Then euery one could preſently ſay, that Signior Guido had ſpoken
nothing but the truth, and were much aſhamed of their owne folly, and
ſhallow eſtimation which they had made of Guido, deſiring neuer more
after to meddle with him ſo groſſely, and thanking Signior Betto, for ſo
well reforming their ignorance, by his much better apprehenſion.
Fryer Onyon, promiſed certaine honeſt people of the Countrey, to ſhew them a Feather of the ſame Phoenix, that was with Noah in his Arke. In
••
ed whereof, he found Coales, which he auouched to be thoſe very coals, wherewith the ſame Phoenix was roaſted.
The Tenth Nouell.
Wherein may be obſerued, what palpable abuſes do many times paſſe, vnder the counterfeit Cloake of Religion.
WHen all of them had deliuered their Nouels, Dioneus knowing,
that it remained in him to relate the laſt for this
day: without attending for any ſolemne command (after
he had impoſed ſilence on them, that could not ſufficiently
commend the witty reprehenſion of Guido, thus he
began. Wiſe and worthy Ladies, although by the priuiledge you haue
granted, it is lawfull for me to ſpeake any thing beſt pleaſing to my ſelf:
yet notwithſtanding, it is not any part of my meaning, to varrie from
the matter and method, whereof you haue ſpoken to very good purpoſe.
And therefore, following your footſteppes, I entend to tell you,
how craftily, and with a Rampiar ſodainly raiſed in his owne defence:
a Religious Frier of Saint Anthonies Order, ſhunned a ſhame, which
two wily companions had prepared for him. Nor let it offend you, if I
run into more large diſcourſe, then this day hath bene vſed by any, for
the apter comple
•
ting of my Nouell: becauſe, if you well obſerue it, the
Sun is as yet in the middeſt of heauen, and therefore you may the better
forbeare me.
Certoldo, as (perhaps) you know, or haue heard, is a Village in the
Vale of Elſa, and vnder the authority and commaund of our Florence,
which although it be but ſmall: yet (in former times) it hath bin inhabited
with Gentlemen, and people of eſpeciall reſpect. A religious Friar
of S. Anthonies Order, named Friar Onyon, had long time vſed to reſort
thither, to receiue the beneuolent almes, which thoſe charitably affected
people in ſimplicity gaue him, & chiefly at diuers daies of the year, whē
their bounty and deuotion would extend themſelues more largely then
at other ſeaſons. And ſo much the rather, becauſe they thought him to
be a good Paſtor of holy life in outward appearance, & carried a name
of much greater matter, then remained in the man indeed; beſide, that
part of the country yeilded far more plentifull abundance of Onyons,
then all other in Tuſcany elſewhere, a kinde of foode greatly affected by
thoſe Friars, as men alwaies of hungry & good appetite. This Friar Onyon
was a man of litle ſtature, red haire, a chearfull countenance, and
the world afforded not a more crafty companion, then he. Moreouer,
albeit he had very little knowledge or learning, yet he was ſo prompt,
ready & voluble of ſpeech, vttering often he knew not what himſelfe:
that ſuch as were not wel acquainted with his qualities, ſuppoſed him
to be a ſingular Rhetoritian, excelling Cicero or Quintilian themſelues;
& he was a goſſip, friend, or deerely affected, by euery one dwelling in
thoſe parts. According to his wonted cuſtome, one time he went thither
in the month of Auguſt, and on a Sunday morning, when all the dwellers
thereabout, were preſent to heare Maſſe, and in the chiefeſt Church
aboue all the reſt: when the Friar ſaw time conuenient for his purpoſe,
he aduanced himſelfe, and began to ſpeake in this manner.
Gentlemen and Gentlewomen, you know you haue kept a commendable
cuſtom, in ſending yeerly to the poore brethren of our Lord Baron
S. Anthony, both of your Corne and other prouiſion, ſome more,
ſome leſſe, all according to their power, means, and deuotion, to the end
that bleſſed S. Anthony ſhould be the more carefull of your oxen, ſheep,
aſſes, ſwine, pigs, and other cattle. Moreouer, you haue vſed to pay (eſpecially
ſuch as haue their names regiſtred in our Fraternity) thoſe duties
which annually you ſend vnto vs. For the collection whereof, I am ſent
by my Superior, namely our L. Abbot, & therfore (with Gods bleſſing)
you may come after noone hither, when you ſhal heare the Bels of the
Church ring: then wil I make a predication to you; you ſhall kiſſe the
Croſſe, and beſide, becauſe I know you al to be moſt deuout ſeruants to
our Lord Baron S. Anthony, in eſpeciall grace and fauor, I wil ſhew you
a moſt holy and goodly Relique, which I my ſelfe (long ſince) brought
from the holy Land beyond the ſeas. If you deſire to know what it is,
let me tell you, that it is one of the Feathers of the ſame Phoenix, which
was in the Arke with the Patriarch Noah. And hauing thus ſpoken, he
became ſilent, returning backe to heare Maſſe. While hee deliuered
theſe and the like ſpeeches, among the other people then in the church,
there were two ſhrewde and crafty Companions; the one, named
Iohn de Bragoniero, and the other, Biagio Pizzino. Theſe ſubtile Fellowes,
after they had heard the report of Fry
••
Onyons Relique: althogh
they were his intimate friends, and came thither in his company; yet
they concluded betweene themſelues, to ſhew him a tricke of Legierdumaine,
and to ſteale the Feather from him. When they had intelligence
of Friar Onyons di
•
ing that day at the Caſtle, with a worthy Friend of
his: no ſooner was he ſet at the Table, but away went they in all haſte,
to the Inne where the Fryar frequented, with this determination, that
Biagio ſhould hold conference with the Friars boy, while his fellow ranſackt
the Wallet, to finde the Feather, and carry it away with him, for
a future obſeruation, what the Friar would ſay vnto the people, when
he found the loſſe of the Feather, and could not performe his promi
•
e
to them.
The Fryars Boy, whom ſome called Guccio Balena, ſome Guccio Imbrata,
and others Guccio Porco, was ſuch a knauiſh Lad, and had ſo many
bad qualities, as Lippo Topo the cunning Painter, or the moſt curious
Poeticall wit, had not any ability to deſcribe them. Friar Onyon himſelf
did often obſerue his behauiour, and would make this report among his
Friends. My Boy (quoth he) hath nine rare qualities in him, and ſuch
they are, as if Salomon, Ariſtotle, or Seneca had onely but one of them: it
were ſufficient to torment and trouble all their vertue, all their ſenſes, &
all their ſanctity. Conſider then, what manner of man he is like to be,
hauing nine ſuch rarities, yet voide of all vertue, wit, or goodnes. And
when it was demaunded of Friar Onyon, what theſe nine rare conditions
were: hee hauing them all readie by heart, and in rime, thus anſwered.
Boyes I haue knowne, and ſeene,
And heard of many:
But,
For Lying, Loytring, Lazineſſe,
For Facing, Filching, Filthineſſe;
For Careleſſe, Graceleſſe, all Vnthriftineſſe,
My Boy excelleth any.
Now, ouer and beſide all theſe admirable qualities, hee hath manie
more ſuch ſingularities, which (in fauour towards him) I am faine to conceale.
But that which I ſmile moſt at in him, is, that he would haue a
Wife in euery place where he commeth, yea, and a good houſe to boot
too: for, in regard his beard beginneth to ſhew it ſelfe, riſing thicke in
haire, blacke and amiable, he is verily perſwaded, that all Women will
fall in loue with him; and if they refuſe to follow him, he will in all haſt
run after them. But truly, he is a notable ſeruant to mee, for I cannot
ſpeake with any one, and in neuer ſo great ſecrecy, but he will be ſure to
heare his part; and when any queſtion is demanded of me, he ſtandes in
ſuch awe and feare of my diſpleaſure: that he will bee ſure to make the
firſt anſwer, yea or no, according as he thinketh it moſt conuenient.
Now, to proceede where we left, Friar Onyon hauing left this ſeruiceable
youth at his lodging, to ſee that no bodie ſhould meddle with his
commodities, eſpecially his Wallet, becauſe of the ſacred things therein
contained: Guccio Imbrata, who as earneſtly affected to be in the Kitchin,
as Birds to hop from branch to branch, eſpecially, when anie of
the Chamber-maides were there, eſpyed one of the Hoſteſſes Female
attendants, a groſſe fat Trugge, low of ſtature, ill faced, and worſe formed,
with a paire of breſts like two bumbards, ſmelling loathſomely of
greaſe and ſweate; downe ſhee deſcended into the Kitchin, like a Kite
vpon a peece of Carion. This Boy, or Knaue, chuſe whither you will
ſtyle him, hauing careleſly left Fryar Onyons Chamber doore open, and
all the holy things ſo much to be neglected, although it was then the
moneth of Auguſt, when heate is in the higheſt predominance, yet hee
would needs ſit downe by the ſire, and began to conferre with this amiable
creature, who was called by the name of Nuta.
Being ſet cloſe by her, he told her, that he was a Gentleman by Atturniſhip,
and that he had more millions of Crownes, then all his life time
would ſerue him to ſpend; beſide thoſe which he payed away dayly, as
hauing no conuenient imployment for them. Moreouer, he knew how
to ſpeake, and do ſuch things, as were beyond wonder or admiration.
And, neuer remembring his olde tatterd Friars Cowle, which was ſo
ſnottie and greazie, that good ſtore of kitchin ſtuffe might haue beene
boiled out of it; as alſo a foule ſlouenly Truſſe or halfe doublet, all baudied
with bowſing, fat greazie lubbetly ſweating, and other drudgeries
in the Conuent Kitchin, where he was an Officer in the meaneſt credite.
So that to deſcribe this ſweet youth in his liuely colours, both for naturall
perfections of body, and artificiall compoſure of his Garments; neuer
came the fowleſt ſilks out of Tartaria or India, more vgly or vnſightly
to bee lookt vpon. And for a further addition to his neate knauery,
his breeches were ſo rent betweene his legges, his ſhooes and ſtockings
had bin at ſuch a mercileſſe maſſacre: that the gallanteſt Commandador
of Caſtile (though he had neuer ſo lately bin releaſt out of ſlauery) could
haue wiſht for better garments, then he; or make larger promiſes, then
he did to his Nuta. Proteſting to entitle her as his onely, to free her
from the Inne and Chamber thraldomes, if ſhe would liue with him, be
his Loue, partaker of his preſent poſſeſſions, and ſo to ſucceed in his future
Fortunes. All which brauadoes, though they were belcht foorth
with admirable inſinuations: yet they conuerted into ſmoke, as all ſuch
braggadochio behauiours do, and he was as wiſe at the ending, as when
he began.
Our former named two craftie Companions, ſeeing Guccio Porco ſo
ſeriouſly employed about Nuta, was there-with not a little contented,
becauſe their intended labour was now more then halfe ended. And
perceiuing no contradiction to croſſe their proceeding, into Friar Onyons
chamber entred they, finding it ready open for their purpoſe: where
the firſt thing that came into their hand in ſearch, was the wallet. When
they had opened it, they found a ſmall Cabinet, wrapped in a great many
foldings of rich Taffata; and hauing vnfolded it, a fine formall Key
was hanging thereat: wherwith hauing vnlockt the Cabinet, they found
a faire Feather of a Parrots taile, which they ſuppoſed to bee the verie
ſame, that he meant to ſhew the people of Certaldo. And truly (in thoſe
dayes) it was no hard matter to make them beleeue any thing, becauſe
the idle vanities of Aegypt and thoſe remoter parts, had not (as yet) bin
ſeene in Tuſcany, as ſince then they haue bin in great abundance, to the
vtter ruine (almoſt) of Italy.
And although they might then be knowne to very few, yet the inhabitants
of the Country generally, vnderſtoode little or nothing at all of
them. For there, the pure ſimplicitie of their ancient predeceſſours ſtill
continuing; they had not ſeene any Parrots, or ſo much as heard any
ſpeech of them. Wherefore the two crafty conſorts, not a little ioyfull
of finding the Feather, tooke it thence with them, and beecauſe they
would not leaue the Cabinet empty, eſpying Char-coales lying in a corner
of the Chamber, they filled it with them, wrapping it vp againe in
the Taffata, and in as demure manner as they found it. So, away came
they with the Feather, neither ſeene or ſuſpected by any one, intending
now to heare what Friar Onyon would ſay, vppon the loſſe of his precious
Relique, and finding the Coales there placed inſted thereof.
The ſimple men and women of the country, who had bin at morning
Maſſe in the Church, and heard what a wonderful Feather they ſhould
ſee in the after noone; returned in all haſt to their houſes, where one telling
this newes to another, and goſſip with goſſip conſulting theron; they
made the ſhorter dinner, and afterward flocked in maine troopes to the
Caſtle, contending who ſhold firſt get entrance, ſuch was their deuotion
to ſee the holy feather. Friar Onyon hauing dined, and repoſed a litle after
his wine, he aroſe from the table to the window, where beholding what
multitudes came to ſee the feather, he aſſured himſelfe of good ſtore of
mony. Hereupon, he ſent to his Boy Guccio Imbrata, that vppon the Bels
ringing, he ſhould come and bring the wallet to him. Which (with much
ado) he did, ſo ſoone as his quarrell was ended in the kitchin, with the amiable
Chamber-maid Nuta, away then he went with his holy commodities:
where he was no ſooner arriued, but becauſe his belly was readie
to burſt with drinking water, he ſent him to the Church to ring the bels,
which not onely would warme the cold water in his belly, but likewiſe
make him run as gaunt as a Grey-hound.
When all the people were aſſembled in the Church together, Friar
Onyon (neuer diſtruſting any iniurie offered him, or that his cloſe commodities
had bin medled withal) began his predication, vttering a thouſand
lies to fit his purpoſe. And when he came to ſhew the feather of the
Phoenix (hauing firſt in great deuotion finiſht the confeſſion) he cauſed
two goodly torches to be lighted, & ducking downe his head three ſeuerall
times, before hee would ſo much as touch the Taffata, he opened it
with much reuerence. So ſoone as the Cabinet came to be ſeen, off went
his Hood, lowly he bowed downe his body, and vttering eſpecial praiſes
of the Phoenix, and ſacred properties of the wonderfull Relique, the
Couer of the Cabinet being lifte
•
vppe, he ſaw the ſame to bee full of
Coales. He could not ſuſpect his Villaine boy to do this deede, for he
knew him not to be endued with ſo much wit, onely hee curſt him for
keeping it no better, and curſt himſelfe alſo, for repoſing truſt in ſuch a
careles knaue, knowing him to be ſlothfull, diſobedient, negligent, and
void of all honeſt vnderſtanding or grace. Sodainly (without bluſhing)
leſt his loſſe ſhould be diſcerned, he lifted his lookes and hands to heauen,
ſpeaking out ſo loude, as euery one might eaſily heare him, thus:
O thou omnipotent prouidence, for euer let thy power be praiſed. Then
making faſt the Cabinet againe, and turning himſelfe to the people, with
lookes expreſſing admiration, he proceeded in this manner.
Lords, Ladies, and you the reſt of my worthy Auditors: You are to
vnderſtand, that I (being then very young) was ſent by my Superiour,
into thoſe parts, where the Sun appeareth at his firſt riſing. And I had
receiued charge by expreſſe command, that I ſhould ſeeke for (ſo much
as conſiſted in my power to do) the eſpeciall vertues and priuiledges belonging
to Porcellane, which although the boyling thereof bee worth
but little, yet it is very profitable to any but vs. In regard whereof, being
vpon my iourney, and departing from Venice, paſſing along the Borgo
de Grecia, I proceeded thence (on horſeback) through the Realme of
Garbo, ſo to Baldacca, till I came to Parione; from whence, not without
great extremity of thirſt, I arriued in Sardignia.
But why do I trouble you with the repetition of ſo many countries?
I coaſted on ſtill, after I had paſt Saint Georges Arme, into Truffia, and
then into Buffia, which are Countries much inhabited, and with great
people. From thence I went into the Land of Lying, where I found ſtore
of the Brethren of our Religion, and many other beſide, who ſhunned
all paine and labour, onely for the loue of God, and cared as litlte, for
the paines and trauailes which others tooke, except ſome benefit ariſed
thereby to them; nor ſpend they any money in this Country, but ſuch
as is without ſtampe. Thence I went into the Land of Abruzza, where
the men and women goe in Galoches ouer the Mountaines, and make
them garments of their Swines guts. Not farre from thence, I found
people, that carried bread in their ſtaues, and wine in Satchels, when
parting from them, I arriued among the Mountaines of Bacchus, where
all the waters run downe with a deepe fall, and in ſhort time, I went on
ſo far, that I found my ſelfe to be in India Paſtinaca; where I ſwear to you
by the holy habit which I weare on my body, that I ſaw Serpents flye,
things incredible, and ſuch as were neuer ſeene before.
But becauſe I would be loth to lye, ſo ſoone as I departed thence, I
met with Maſo de Saggio, who was a great Merchant there, and whom
I found cracking Nuts, and felling Cockles by retale. Neuertheleſſe, al
this while I could not finde what I ſought for, and therefore I was to
paſſe from hence by water, if I intended to trauaile thither, and ſo in returning
back, I came into the Holy Land, where coole freſh bread is ſold
for foure pence, and the hot is giuen away for nothing. There I found
the venerable Father (blame me not I beſeech you) the moſt woorthie
Patriarch of Ieruſalem, who for the reuerence due to the habite I weare,
and loue to our Lord Baron Saint Anthony, would haue me to ſee al the
holy Reliques, which he had there vnder his charge: wherof there were
ſo many, as if I ſhould recount them all to you, I neuer could come to a
concluſion. But yet, not to leaue you diſcomforted, I will relate ſome
few of them to you.
Firſt of all, he ſhewed me the finger of the holy Ghoſt, ſo whole and
perfect, as euer it was. Next, the noſe of the Cherubin, which appeared
to Saint Frances; with the payring of the naile of a Seraphin; and one
of the ribbes of Verbum caro, faſtened to one of the Windowes, couered
with the holy garments of the Catholique Faith. Then he tooke me
into a darke Chappel, where he ſhewed me diuers beames of the Starre
that appeared to the three Kings in the Eaſt. Alſo a Violl of Saint Michaels
ſweate, when he combatted with the diuell: And the iaw-bone of
dead Lazarus, with many other precious things beſide. And becauſe I
was liberall to him, giuing him two of the Plaines of Monte Morello,
in the Vulgare Edition, and ſome of the Chapters del Caprezio, which
he had long laboured in ſearch of; he beſtowed on me ſome of his Reliques.
Firſt, he gaue me one of the eye-teeth of Santa Crux; and a litle Violl,
filled with ſome part of the ſound of thoſe Belles, which hung in the
ſumptuous Temple of Salomon. Next, he gaue mee the Feather of the
Phoenix, which was with Noah in the Arke, as before I told you. And
one of the Woodden Pattens, which the good Saint Gerrard de Magnavilla
vſed to weare in his trauailes, and which I gaue (not long ſince) to
Gerrardo di Bouſy at Florence, where it is reſpected with much deuotion.
Moreouer, he gaue me a few of thoſe Coales, wherwith the Phoenix
of Noah was roaſted; all which things I brought away thence with
me. Now, moſt true it is, that my Superiour would neuer ſuffer mee to
ſhew them any where, vntill he was faithfully cer
•
ified, whether they
were the ſame precious Reliques, or no. But perceyuing by ſundrie
Myracles which they haue wrought, and Letters of ſufficient credence
receyued from the reuerend Patriarch, that all is true, he hath graunted
me permiſſion to ſhew them, and becauſe I wold not truſt any one with
matters of ſuch moment, I my ſelfe brought them hither with me.
Now I muſt tell you, that the Feather of the ſame Phoenix, I conueyed
into a ſmall Cabinet or Casket, becauſe it ſhould not be bent or broken.
And the Coales where with the ſaid Phoenix was roaſted, I put into
another Casket, in all reſpects ſo like to the former, that many times I
haue takē one for another. As now at this inſtant it hath bin my fortune:
for, imagining that I brought the Casket with the feather, I miſtooke my
ſelf, & brought the other with the coales. Wherein doubtles I haue not
offended, becauſe I am certaine, that we of our Order do not any thing,
but it is ordred by diuine direction, and our bleſſed Patron the Lorde
Baron Saint Anthony. And ſo much the rather, becauſe about a ſenight
hence, the Feaſt of Saint Anthony is to bee ſolemnized, againſt the preparation
whereof, and to kindle your zeale with the greater feruencie:
he put the Casket with the Coales into my hand, meaning, to let you
ſee the Feather, at ſome more fitting ſeaſon. And therefore my bleſſed
Sonnes and Daughters, put off your Bonnets, and come hither with deuotion
to looke vpon them. But firſt let me tell you, whoſoeuer is marked
by any of theſe Coales, with the ſigne of the Croſſe: he or ſhe ſhal
liue all this yeare happily, and no fire whatſoeuer ſhall come neere to
touch or hurt them. So, ſinging a ſolemne Antheme in the praiſe of S.
Anthony, he vnveyled the Casket, and ſhewed the Coales openly.
The ſimple multitude, hauing (with great admiration and reuerence)
a long while beheld them, they thronged in crouds to Fryar Onyon, giuing
him farre greater offerings, then before they had, and enteating
him to marke them each after other. Whereupon, he taking the coales
in his hand, began to marke their garments of white, and the veyles on
the Womens heads, with Croſſes of no meane extendure: affirming
to them, that the more the Coales waſted with making thoſe great croſſes,
the more they ſtill encreaſed in the Casket, as often before hee had
made triall.
In this manner, hauing croſſed all the Certaldanes (to his great benefit)
and their abuſe: he ſmiled at his ſodaine and dexterious deuiſe, in
mockery of them, who thought to haue made a ſcorne of him, by diſpoſſeſſing
him of the Feather. For Bragoniero and Pizzino, being preſent
at his Learned predication, and hauing heard what a cunning ſhift
he found, to come off cleanly, without the leaſt detection, and all deliuered
with ſuch admirable proteſtations: they were faine to forſake the
Church, leaſt they ſhould haue burſt with laughing.
But when all the people were parted and gone, they met Friar Onyon
at his Inne, where cloſely they diſcouered to him, what they had
done, deliuering him his Feather againe: which the yeare
following, did yeeld him as much money, as
now the Coales had
done.
THis Nouell affoorded equall pleaſing to the whole companie,
Friar Onyons Sermon being much commended, but eſpecially
his long Pilgrimage, and the Reliques he had both ſeene, and
brought home with him. Afterward, the Queene perceiuing, that her
reigne had now the full expiration, graciouſly ſhe aroſe, and taking the
Crowne from off her owne head, placed on the head of Dioneus, ſaying.
It is high time Dioneus, that you ſhould taſte part of the charge & paine,
which poore women haue felt and vndergone in their ſoueraigntie and
gouernment: wherefore, be you our King, and rule vs with ſuch awefull
authority, that the ending of your dominion may yeelde vs all contentment.
Dioneus being thus inueſted with the Crowne, returned this
anſwer.
I make no doubt (bright Beauties) but you many times haue ſeene as
good, or a better King among the Cheſſe-men, then I am. But yet of a
certainty, if you would be obedient to me, as you ought in dutie vnto a
true King: I ſhould grant you a liberall freedome of that, wherein you
take the moſt delight, and without which, our choiſeſt deſires can neuer
be compleate. Neuertheleſſe, I meane, that my gouernment ſhal be according
to mine owne minde. So, cauſing the Maſter of the Houſhold
to be called for, as all the reſt were wont to do for conference with him:
he gaue him direction, for al things fitting the time of his Regiment, and
then turning to the Ladies, thus he proceeded.
Honeſt Ladies, we haue alreadie diſcourſed of variable deuiſes, and
ſo many ſeuerall manners of humane induſtry, concerning the buſines
wherewith Liciſca came to acquaint vs: that her very words, haue miniſtred
me matter, ſufficient for our morrowes conference, or elſe I ſtand
in doubt, that I could not haue deuiſed a more conuenient Theame for
vs to talke on. She (as you haue all heard) ſaide, that ſhee had not anie
neighbour, who came a true Virgin to her Husband, and added moreouer,
that ſhe knew ſome others, who had beguiled their Husbandes, in
very cunning and crafty manner. But ſetting aſide the firſt part, concerning
the proofe of children, I conceiue the ſecond to bee more apte
for our intended argument. In which reſpect, my will is (ſeeing Liciſca
hath giuen vs ſo good an occaſion) that our diſcourſing to morow, may
onely concerne ſuch ſlye cunning and deceits, as women haue heeretofore
vſed, for ſatisfying their owne appetites, and beguiling their Huſbands,
without their knowledge, or ſuſpition, and cleanly eſcaping with
them, or no.
This argument ſeemed not very pleaſing to the Ladies, and therefore
they vrged an alteration thereof, to ſome matter better ſuting with the
day, and their diſcourſing: whereto thus he anſwered. Ladies, I know
as well as your ſelues, why you would haue this inſtant argument altered:
but, to change me from it you haue no power, conſidering the ſeaſon
is ſuch, as ſhielding all (both men and women) from medling with
any diſhoneſt action; it is lawfull for vs to ſpeake of what wee pleaſe.
And know you not, that through the ſad occaſion of the time, which
now ouer-ruleth vs, the Iudges haue forſaken their venerable benches,
the Lawes (both diuine and humane) ceaſing, granting ample licenſe to
euery one, to do what beſt agreeth with the conſeruation of life? Therefore,
if your honeſties doe ſtraine themſelues a little, both in thinking
and ſpeaking, not for proſecution of any immodeſt deede, but onely for
familiar and blameleſſe entercourſe: I cannot deuiſe a more conuenient
ground, at leaſt that carrieth apparant reaſon, for reproofe of perils, to
enſue by any of you. Moreouer, your company, which hath bin moſt
honeſt, ſince the firſt day of our meeting, to this inſtant: appeareth not
any iot to be diſgraced, by any thing either ſaid or done, neither ſhal be
(I hope) in the meaneſt degree.
And what is he, knowing your choiſe and vertuous diſpoſitions, ſo
powerfull in their owne preuailing, that wanton words cannot miſguide
your wayes, no nor the terror of death it ſelfe, that dare inſinuate a diſtempred
thought? But admit, that ſome ſlight or ſhallow iudgements,
hearing you (perhaps ſometimes) talk of ſuch amorous follies, ſhould
therefore ſuſpitiouſly imagine you to be faulty, or elſe you would bee
more ſparing of ſpeech? Their wit and cenſure are both alike, ſauouring
rather of their owne vile nature, who would brand others with their
baſebred imperfections. Yet ther is another conſideration beſide, of ſom
great iniury offered to mine honor, and whereof I know not how you
can acquit yourſelues.
I that haue bin obedient to you all, and borne the heauy load of your
buſineſſe, hauing now (with full conſent) created mee your King, you
would wreſt the law out of my hands, and diſpoſe of my authoritie as
you pleaſe. Forbeare (gentle Ladies) all friuolous ſuſpitions, more fit
for them that are full of bad thoughts, then you, who haue true Vertue
ſhining in your eyes; and therefore, let euery one freely ſpeake their
minde, according as their humors beſt pleaſeth them.
When the Ladies heard this, they made anſwer, that all ſhould bee
anſwerable to his minde. Whereupon, the King gaue them all leaue to
diſpoſe of themſelues till ſupper time. And becauſe the Sun was yet very
high, in regard all the re-counted Nouels had bin ſo ſhort: Dioneus
went to play at the Tables with another of the yong Gentlemen, & Madame
Eliza, hauing withdrawne the Ladies aſide, thus ſpake vnto them.
During the time of our being heere, I haue often bene deſirous to let you
ſee a place ſomwhat neere at hand, and which I ſuppoſe you haue neuer
ſeene, it being called The Valley of Ladies. Till now, I could not finde any
conuenient time to bring you thither, the Sunne continuing ſtill aloft,
which fitteth you with the apter leyſure, and the ſight (I am ſure)
can no way diſcontent you.
The Ladies replyed, that they were all ready to walk with her thither:
and calling one of their women to attend on them, they ſet on, without
ſpeaking a word to any of the men. And within the diſtance of halfe a
mile, they arriued at the Valley of Ladies, wherinto they entred by a ſtrait
paſſage at the one ſide, from whence there iſſued forth a cleare running
Riuer. And they found the ſaide Valley to bee ſo goodly and pleaſant,
eſpecially in that ſeaſon, which was the hotteſt of all the yeare; as all the
world was no where able to yeeld the like. And, as one of the ſaid Ladies
(ſince then) related to mee, there was a plaine in the Valley fo directly
round, as if it had beene formed by a compaſſe, yet rather it reſembled
the Workmanſhip of Nature, then to be made by the hand of
man: containing in circuite ſomewhat more then the quarter of a mile,
enuironed with ſixe ſmall hils, of no great height, and on each of them
ſtood a little Palace, ſhaped in the faſhion of Caſtles.
The ground-plots deſcending from thoſe hils or mountaines, grew
leſſe and leſſe by variable degrees, as wee obſerue at entering into our
Theaters, from the higheſt part to the loweſt, ſuccinctly to narrow the
circle by order. Now, concerning theſe ground-plottes or little Meadowes,
thoſe which the Sun Southward looked on, were full of Vines,
Oliue-trees, Almond-trees, Cherry-trees, and Figge-trees, with diuers
other Trees beſide, ſo plentifully bearing fruites, as you could not
diſcerne a hands bredth of loſſe. The other Mountaines, whereon the
Northerne windes blow, were curiouſly couered with ſmall Thickets
or Woods of Oakes, Aſhes, and other Trees ſo greene and ſtraite, as
it was impoſſible to behold fairer. The goodly plaine it ſelfe, not hauing
any other entrance, but where the Ladies came in, was planted
with Trees of Firre, Cipreſſe, Laurell, and Pines; ſo ſingularly growing
in formall order, as if ſome artificiall or cunning hand had planted
them, the Sun hardly piercing through their branches, from the top to
the bottome, euen at his higheſt, or any part of his courſe.
All the whole field was richly ſpred with graſſe, and ſuch variety of
delicate Flowers, as Nature yeilded out of her plenteous Store-houſe.
But that which gaue no leſſe delight then any of the reſt, was a ſmal running
Brooke, deſcending from one of the Vallies, that diuided two of
the little hils, nd fell through a Veine of the intire Rocke it ſelfe, that
the fall and murmure thereof was moſt delightfull to heare, ſeeming all
the way in the deſcent, like Quicke-ſiluer, weauing it ſelfe into artificiall
workes, and arriuing in the plaine beneath, it was there receyued
into a ſmall Channell, ſwiftly running through the midſt of the plaine,
to a place where it ſtayed, and ſhaped it ſelfe into a Lake or Pond, ſuch
as our Citizens haue in their Orchards or Gardens, when they pleaſe to
make vſe of ſuch a commodity.
This Pond was no deeper, then to reach the breaſt of a man, and hauing
no mud or ſoyle in it, the bottome thereof ſhewed like ſmall beaten
grauell, with prety pibble ſtones intermixed, which ſome that had
nothing elſe to do, would ſit downe and count them as they lay, as very
eaſily they might. And not onely was the bottome thus apparantly
ſeene, but alſo ſuch plenty of Fiſhes ſwimming euery way, as the mind
was neuer to be wearied in looking on them. Nor was this water bounded
in with any bankes, but onely the ſides of the plain Medow, which
made it appeare the more ſightly, as it aroſe in ſwelling plenty. And alwayes
as it ſuper-abounded in his courſe, leaſt it ſhould
•
uerflow diſorderly:
it fell into another Channell, which conueying it along the lower
Valley, ran forth to water other needfull places.
When the Ladies were arriued in this goodly valley, and vpon aduiſed
viewing it, had ſufficiently commended it: in regard the heat of the
day was great, the place tempting, and the Pond free from ſight of any,
they reſolued there to bathe themſelues. Wherefore they ſent the waiting
Gentlewoman to haue a diligent eye on the way where they entered,
leaſt any one ſhould chance to ſteale vpon them. All ſeuen of them
being ſtript naked, into the water they went, which hid their delicate
white bodies, like as a cleare Glaſſe concealeth a Damask Roſe within it.
So they being in the Pond, and the water nothing troubled by their being
there, they found much prety paſtime together, running after the
Fiſhes, to catch them with their hands, but they were ouer-quicke and
cunning for them. After they had delighted themſelues there to their
owne contentment, and were cloathed with their garments, as before:
thinking it fit time for their returning backe againe, leaſt their ouerlong
ſtay might giue offence, they departed thence in an eaſie pace, dooing
nothing elſe all the way as they went, but extolling the Valley of Ladies
beyond all compariſon.
At the Palace they arriued in a due houre, finding the three Gentlemen
at play, as they left them, to whom Madame Pampinea pleaſantly
thus ſpake. Now truſt me Gallants, this day wee haue very cunningly
beguiled you. How now? anſwered Dioneus, begin you firſt to act, before
you ſpeake? Yes truly Sir, replyed Madame Pampinea: Relating
to him at large, from whence they came, vvhat they had done there,
the beautie of the place, and the diſtance thence. The King (vpon hir
excellent report) being very deſirous to ſee it; ſodainely commaunded
Supper to be ſerued in, which vvas no ſooner ended, but they and their
three ſeruants (leauing the Ladies) walked on to the Valley, which when
they had conſidered, no one of them hauing euer bin there before; they
thought it to be the Paradiſe of the World.
They bathed themſelues there likewiſe, as the Ladies formerlie had
done, and being re-ueſted, returned backe to their Lodgings, becauſe
darke night drew on apace: but they found the Ladies dauncing, to a
Song which Madame Fiammetta ſung. When the dance was ended,
they entertained the time with no other diſcourſe, but onely concerning
the Valley of Ladies, vvhereof they all ſpake liberally in commendations.
Whereupon, the King called the Maſter of the Houſhold, giuing
him command, that (on the morrow) dinner ſhould be readie betimes,
and bedding to be thence carried, if any deſired reſt at mid-time
of the day.
All this being done, variety of pleaſing Wines were brought, Banquetting
ſtuffe, and other dainties; after which they fell to Dauncing.
And Pamphilus, hauing receyued command, to begin an eſpecial dance,
the King turned himſelfe vnto Madame Eliza, ſpeaking thus. Faire Lady,
you haue done me ſo much honour this day, as to deliuer mee the
Crowne: in regard wherof, be you this night the Miſtreſſe of the ſong:
and let it be ſuch as beſt may pleaſe your ſelfe. Whereunto Madam
Eliza, with a modeſt bluſh ariſing in her face, replyed; That his will
ſhould be fulfilled, and then (with a delicate voyce) ſhe beganne in this
manner.
The Song.
The CHORVS ſung by all.
LOVE, if I can ſcape free from forth thy holde,
Beleeue it for a truth,
Neuer more ſhall thy falſhoode me enfolde.
WHen I was yong, I entred firſt thy fights,
Suppoſing there to finde a ſolemne peace:
I threw off all my Armes, and with delights
Fed my poore-hopes, as still they did encreaſe.
But like a Tyrant, full of rancorous hate,
Thou tookſt aduantage:
And I ſought refuge, but it was too late.
Loue, if I can ſcape free, &c,
But being thus ſurprized in thy ſnares,
To my misfortune, thou madſt me her ſlaue;
Was onely borne to feede me with deſpaires.
And keepe me dying in a liuing graue.
For I ſaw nothing dayly fore mine eyes,
But rackes and tortures:
From which I could not get in any wiſe.
Loue, if I can ſcape free, &c.
My ſighes and teares I vented to the winde,
For none would heare or pittie my complaints;
My torments ſtill encreaſed in this kinde,
And more and more I felt theſe ſharpe reſtraints.
Releaſe me now at laſt from forth this hell.
Aſſwage thy rigour,
Delight not thus in cruelty to dwell.
Loue, if I can ſcape free, &c.
If this thou wilt not grant, be yet ſo kinde,
Releaſe me from thoſe worſe then ſeruile bands,
Which new vaine hopes haue bred, wherein I finde;
Such violent feares, as comfort quite withstands.
be now (at length) a little moou'd to pittie,
Be it nere ſo little:
Or in my death listen my Swan-like Dittie.
Loue, if I can ſcape free from forth thy holde,
Beleeue it for a truth,
Neuer more ſhall thy falſhood me enfolde.
After that Madame Eliza had made an end of her Song, which ſhee
ſealed vp with an heart-breaking ſigh: they all ſate amazedly wandering
at her moanes, not one among them being able to coniecture, what
ſhould be the reaſon of her ſinging in this manner. But the King being
in a good and pleaſing temper, calling Tindaro, commaunded him to
bring his Bagge-pipe, by the ſound whereof they danced diuers daunces:
And a great part of the night being ſpent in this manner,
they all gaue ouer, and departed to their
Chambers.
The End of the Sixth Day.
The Seuenth Day.
When the Aſſembly being met together, and vnder the Regiment of Dioneus: the Diſcourſes are directed, for the diſcouerie of ſuch policies and deceites, as women haue vſed for beguiling of their Husbandes, either in reſpect of their loue, or for the preuention of ſome blame or ſcandall, eſcaping without ſight, knowledge, or otherwiſe.
The Induction to the Dayes Diſcourſes.
ALL the Starres were departed out of the Eaſt,
but onely that, which we commonly cal bright
Lucifer, or the Day-Star, gracing the morning
very gloriouſly: when the Maſter of the houſehold,
being riſen, went with all the prouiſion,
to the Valley of Ladies, to make euerie thing in
due and decent readines, according as his Lord
ouer-night had commanded him. After which
departure of his, it was not long before the King aroſe, beeing awaked
with the noiſe which the carriages made; and when he was vp, the other
two Gentlemen and the Ladies were quickly readie ſoone after.
On they ſet towards the Valley, euen as the Sunne was riſing: and all
the way as they went, neuer before had they heard ſo many ſweete
Nightingales, and other pretty Birds melodiouſly ſinging, as they did
this morning, which keeping them company thoroughout the iourney,
they arriued at the Valley of Ladies, where it ſeemed to them, that infinit
Quires of delicate Nightingales, and other Birds, had purpoſely made
a meeting, euen as it were to giue them a glad welcome thither.
Diuers times they walked about the Valley, neuer ſatisfied with viewing
it from one end to the other; becauſe it appeared farre more pleaſing
vnto them, then it had done the precedent day: and becauſe the
dayes ſplendour was much more conforme to the beauty thereof. After
they had broken their faſt, with excellent Wines and Banquetting
ſtuffe, they began to tune their inſtruments and ſing; becauſe (therein)
the ſweet Birds ſhould not excell them, the Valley (with delicate Echoes)
anſwering all their notes. When dinner time drew neere, the Tables
were couered vnder the ſpreading trees, and by the goodly Ponds ſide,
where they ſate downe orderly by the Kings direction: and all dinner
while, they ſaw the Fiſhes ſwimme by huge ſhoales in the Pond, which
ſometimes gaue them occaſion to talke, as well as gaze on them.
When dinner was ended, and the Tables withdrawne, in as iocond
manner as before, they renewed againe their hermonious ſinging. In diuers
places of this pleaſant Valley, were goodly field-Beds readily furniſhed,
according as the Maſter of the Houſhold gaue enſtruction, encloſed
with Pauillions of coſtly ſtuffes, ſuch as are ſometimes brought out
of France. Such as were ſo diſpoſed, were licenſed by the King to take
their reſt: and they that would not, he permitted them to their wonted
paſtimes, each according to their minds. But when they were riſen from
ſleepe, and the reſt from their other exerciſes, it ſeemed to be more then
high time, that they ſhould prepare for talke and conference. So, ſitting
downe on Turky Carpets, which were ſpred abroad on the green graſſe,
and cloſe by the place where they had dined: the King gaue command,
that Madam Aemillia ſhould firſt begin, whereto ſhe willingly yeelding
obedience, and expecting ſuch ſilent attention, as formerly had bin obſerued,
thus ſhe began.
Iohn of Lorraine heard one knocke at his doore in the night time, whereuppon he awaked his Wife Monna Teſſa. She made him beleeue, that it was a Spirit which knocked at the doore, and ſo they aroſe, going both together to coniure the Spirit with a prayer; and afterwardes, they heard no more knocking.
The Firſt Nouell.
Reprehending the ſimplicity of ſome ſottiſh Husbands: And diſcouering the wanton ſubtilties of ſome women, to compaſſe their vnlawfull deſires.
MY Gracious Lord (quoth Madame Aemillia) it
had bene a matter highly pleaſing to mee, that
any other (rather then my ſelfe) ſhould haue begun
to ſpeake of this argument, which it hath
pleaſed you to apoint. But ſeeing it is your Highneſſe
pleaſure, that I muſt make a paſſage of aſſurance
for all the reſt; I will not be irregular, becauſe
obedience is our cheefe Article. I ſhall
therefore (Gracious Ladies) ſtriue, to ſpeake ſomething, which may bee
aduantageable to you heereafter, in regard, that if other women bee as
fearfull as we, eſpecially of Spirits, of which all our ſexe haue generally
bin timorous (although, vpon my credite, I know not what they are,
nor euer could meete with any, to tell me what they be) you may, by the
diligent obſeruation of my Nouell: learne a wholſome and holy prayer,
very auaileable, and of precious power, to coniure and driue them away,
whenſoeuer they ſhall preſume to aſſault you in any place.
There dwelt ſometime in Florence, and in the ſtreet of Saint Brancazio,
a woollen Weauer, named Iohn of Lorrayne; a man more happy in
his Art, then wiſe in any thing elſe beſide: becauſe, ſauouring ſomewhat
of the Gregorie, and (in very deede) little leſſe then an Ideot; Hee
was many times made Captain of the Woollen-Weauers, in the quarters
belonging to Santa Maria Nouella, and his houſe was the Schoole or
receptacle, for all their meetings and aſſemblies. He had diuers other
petty Offices beſide, by the dignity and authority whereof, hee ſuppoſed
himſelfe much exalted or eleuated, aboue the common pitch of other
men. And this humour became the more tractable to him, becauſe
he addicted himſelfe oftentimes (as being a man of an eaſie inclination)
to be a benefactor to the holy Fathers of Santa Maria Nouella, giuing
(beſide his other charitable Almes) to ſome one a paire of Breeches, to
another a Hood, and to another a whole habit. In reward whereof, they
taught him (by heart) many wholſome prayers, as the Pater noſter in
the vulgar tongue; the Song of Saint Alexis; the Lamentations of Saint
Bernard, the Hymne of Madame Matilda, and many other ſuch like
matters, which he kept charily, and repeated vſually, as tending to the
ſaluation of his ſoule.
This man, had a very faire and louely wife, named Monna Teſſa, the
daughter of Manuccio della Cuculia, wiſe and well aduiſed; who knowing
the ſimplicity of her Husband, and affecting Frederigo di Neri Pegolotti,
who was a comely yong Gentleman, freſh, and in the floure of his
time, euen as ſhe was, therefore they agreed the better together. By
meanes of her Chamber-maid, Frederigo and ſhee met often together,
at a Countrie Farme of Iohn of Lorraynes, which hee had neere to Florence,
and where ſhe vſed to lodge all the Summer time, called Camerata,
whether Iohn reſorted ſomtimes to Supper, and lodge for a night,
returning home againe to his City houſe the next morning; yet often
he would ſtay there longer with his owne companions.
Frederigo, who was no meane man in his Miſtreſſes fauor, and therefore
theſe priuate meetings the more welcome to him; receiued a ſummons
or aſſignation from her, to be there on ſuch a night, when hir huſband
had no intent of comming thither. There they ſupped merrily
together, and (no doubt) did other things, nothing appertaining to our
purpoſe, ſhe both acquainting, and well inſtructing him, in a dozen (at
the leaſt) of her Husbands deuout prayers. Nor did ſhee make any account,
or Frederigo either, that this ſhould be the laſt time of their meeting,
becauſe (indeede) it was not the firſt: and therfore they ſet down
an order and concluſion together (becauſe the Chambermaide muſt be
no longer the meſſenger) in ſuch manner as you ſhall heare.
Frederigo was to obſerue eſpecially, that alwayes when hee went or
came from his owne houſe, which ſtood much higher then Iohn of Lorraynes
did, to looke vpon a Vine, cloſely adioyning to her houſe, where
ſtood the ſcull of an Aſſes head, aduanced vpon an high pole; & when
the face thereof looked towards Florence, he might ſafely come, it being
an aſſured ſigne, that Iohn kept at home. And if he found the doore
faſt ſhut, he ſhould ſoftly knocke three ſeuerall times, and thereon bee
admitted entrance. But if the face ſtood towards Fieſola; then he might
not come, for it was the ſigne of Iohns being there, and then there might
be no medling at all.
Hauing thus agreed vpon this concluſion, and had many merry meetings
together: one night aboue the reſt, where Frederigo was appointed
to ſuppe with Monna Teſſa, who had made ready two fat Capons,
dreſt in moſt dainty and delicate manner: it fell out ſo vnfortunately,
that Iohn (whoſe Kue was not to come that night came thither very late,
yet before Frederigo, wherewith ſhe being not a little offended, gaue Iohn
a ſlight ſupper, of Lard, Bacon, and ſuch like coarſe prouiſion, becauſe
the other was kept for a better gueſt. In the meane time, and while Iohn
was at ſupper, the Maide (by her Miſtreſſes direction) had conueighed
the two Capons, with boyled Egges, Bread and a Bottle of Wine (all
folded vp in a faire cleane table cloth) into her Garden, that had a paſſage
to it, without entering into the houſe, and where ſhee had diuers
times ſupt with Frederigo. She further willed the Maide, to ſet all thoſe
things vnder a Peach tree, which adioyned to the fields ſide: but, ſo angry
ſhe was at her husbands vnexpected comming, that ſhee for got to
bid her tarrie there, till Frederigoes comming, and to tell him of Iohns
being there: as alſo, to take what he found prepared readie for his Supper.
Iohn and ſhe being gone to bed together, and the Maide likewiſe, it
was not long after, before Frederigo came, and knocking once ſoftly at
the doore, which was very neere to their lodging Chamber, Iohn heard
the noiſe, and ſo did his wife. But to the end, that Iohn might not haue
the leaſt ſcruple of ſuſpition, ſhe ſeemed to be faſt aſleepe; and Frederigo
pauſing a while, according to the order directed, knockt againe the ſecond
time. Iohn wondering thereat very much, iogd his wife a litle, and
ſaide to her: Teſſa, heareſt thou nothing? Me thinkes one knocketh at
our doore. Monna Teſſa, who was better acquainted with the knocke,
then plaine honeſt meaning Iohn was, diſſembling as if ſhee awaked our
of a drowſie dreame, ſaide: Alas Husband, doſt thou know what this
is? In the name of our bleſſed Ladie, be not affraid, this is but the Spirit
which haunts our Countrey houſes, whereof I haue often told thee, and
it hath many times much diſmayed me, liuing heere alone without thy
comfort. Nay, ſuch hath bin my feare, that in diuers nights paſt, ſo
ſoone as I heard the knockes: I was feigne to hide my ſelfe in the bedde
ouer-head and eares (as we vſually ſay) neuer daring to be ſo bold, as to
looke out, vntill it was broad open day. Ariſe good wife (quoth Iohn)
and if it be ſuch a Spirit of the Countrey, as thou talkeſt of, neuer be affraid;
for before we went to bed, I ſaid the Telucis, the Intemerata, with
many other good prayers beſide. Moreouer, I made the ſigne of the
ſigne of the Croſſe at euery corner of our bed, in the name of the Father,
Son, and holy Ghoſt, ſo that no doubt at all needs to be made, of any
power it can haue to hurt or touch vs.
Monna Teſſa, becauſe (perhaps) Frederigo might receiue ſome other
ſuſpition, and ſo enter into diſtaſte of her by anger or offence: determined
to ariſe indeede, and to let him couertly vnderſtand, that Iohn was
there, and therefore ſaide to her husband. Beleeue me Iohn, thy counſell
is good, and euery one of thy words hath wiſedome in it: but I hold
it beſt for our owne ſafety, thou being heere; that wee ſhould coniure
him quite away, to the end he may neuer more haunt our hovſe, Coniure
him Wife? Quoth Iohn, By what meanes? and how? Bee patient
good man (quoth Teſſa) and I will enſtruct thee. I haue learned an excellent
kinde of coniuration; for, the laſt weeke, when I went to procure
the pardons at Fieſola, one of the holy recluſe Nuns, who (indeede Iohn)
is my indeered Siſter and Friend, and the moſt ſanctimonius in life of
them all; perceiuing me to be troubled and terrified by Spirits; taught
me a wholſome and holy prayer, and proteſted withall, that ſhee had
often made experiment thereof, before ſhe became a Recluſe, & found
it (alwayes) a preſent helpe to her. Yet neuer durſt I aduenture to eſſay
it, liuing heere by my ſelfe all alone: but honeſt Iohn, ſeeing thou art
heere with me, we will go both together, and coniure this Spirit. Iohn
replyed, that he was very willing; and being both vp, they went fayre
and ſoftly to the doore, where Frederigo ſtoode ſtill without, and was
growne ſomewhat ſuſpitious of his long attendance.
When they were come to the doore, Monna Teſſa ſaid to Iohn: Thou
muſt cough and ſpet, at ſuch time as I ſhall bid thee. Well (quoth Iohn)
I will not faile you. Immediately ſhe beganne her prayer in this manner.
Spirit, that walkst thus in the night,
Poore Countrey people to affright:
Thou haſt miſtane thy marke and ayme,
The head ſtood right, but Iohn home came,
And therefore thou must packe away,
For I haue nothing elſe to ſay:
But to my Garden get the gone,
Vnder the Peach-tree ſtands alone,
There ſhalt thou finde two Capons drest,
And Egges laide in mine owne Hennes nest,
Bread, and a Bottle of good Wine,
All wrapt vp in a cloath most fine.
Is not this good Goblins fare?
Packe and ſay you haue your ſhare;
Not doing harme to Iohn or me,
Who this night keepes me companie.
No ſooner had ſhe ended her deuoute coniuring prayer, but ſhe ſaide
to her husband: Now Iohn, cough and ſpet: which Iohn accordingly
did. And Frederigo, being all this while without, hearing her witty coniuration
of a Spirit, which he himſelfe was ſuppoſed to be being ridde of
his former iealous ſuſpition: in the middſt of all his melancholy, could
very hardly refraine from laughing, the ieſt appeared ſo pleaſing to him:
But when Iohn cought and ſpet, ſoftly he ſaid to himſelfe: When next
thou ſpetſt, ſpet out all thy teeth.
The woman hauing three ſeuerall times coniured the Spirite, in ſuch
manner as you haue already heard; returned to bed againe with her huſband:
and Frederigo, who came as perſwaded to ſup with her, being ſupperleſſe
all this while; directed by the words of Monna Teſſa in hir praier,
went into the Garden. At the foot of the Peach-tree, there he found
the linnen cloth, with the two hot Capons, Bread, Egges, and a Bottle
of Wine in it, all which he carried away with him, and went to Supper
at better leyſure. Oftentimes afterward, vpon other meetings of Frederigo
and ſhe together, they laughed heartily at her enchantment, and the
honeſt beleefe of ſilly Iohn.
I cannot deny, but that ſome do affirme, that the Woman had turned
the face of the Aſſes head towards Fieſola, and a Country Trauailer
paſſing by the Vine, hauing a long piked ſtaffe on his necke: the ſtaffe,
(by chance) touched the head, and made it turne diuers times-about, &
in the end faced Florence, which being the cal for Frederigoes comming,
by this meanes he was diſappointed. In like maner ſome ſay, that Monna
Teſſaes prayer for coniuring the Spirit, was in this order.
Spirit, Spirit, go thy way,
And come againe ſome other day.
It was not I that turnd the head,
But ſome other. In our Bed
Are Iohn and I: Go from our dore,
And ſee thou trouble vs no more.
So that Frederigo departed thence, both with the loſſe of his lahour &
ſupper. But a neighbour of mine, who is a woman of good yeares, told
me, that both the one and other were true, as ſhe her ſelfe heard, when
ſhe was a little Girle. And concerning the latter accident, it was not to
Iohn of Lorrayne, but to another, named Iohn de Nello, that dwelt at S.
Peters Gate, and of the ſame profeſſion as Iohn of Lorrayne was. Wherefore
(faire Ladies) it remaineth in your owne choice, to entertain which
of the two prayers you pleaſe, or both together if you will: for they are
of extraordinary vertue in ſuch ſtrange occurrences, as you haue heeretofore
heard, and (vpon doubt) may proue by experience. It ſhall not
therefore be amiſſe for you, to learne them both by hart, for (peraduenture)
they may ſtand you in good ſted, if euer you chance to haue the like
occaſion.
Peronella hid a yong man her friend and Louer, vnder a great brewing Fat, vpon the ſodaine returning home of her Husband; who told her, that hee had ſolde the ſaide Fat, and brought him that bought it, to carry it away. Peronella replyed, that ſhee had formerly ſolde it vnto another, who was now vnderneath it, to ſee whether it were whole and ſound, or no. Whereupon, he being come forth from vnder it; ſhe cauſed her Husband to make it neate and cleane, and ſo the laſt buryer carried it away.
The Second Nouell.
Wherein is declared, what hard and narrow ſhifts and diſtreſſes, ſuch as bee ſeriouſly linked in Loue, are many times enforced to vndergo: According as their owne wit, and capacitie of their ſurprizers, driue them to in extremities.
NOT without much laughter and good liking, was the Tale of
Madame Aemillia liſtened vnto, and both the prayers commended
to be ſound and ſoueraigne: but it being ended, the
King commaunded Philoſtratus, that hee ſhould follow next in order,
whereupon thus he began.
Deare Ladies, the deceites vſed by men towards your ſexe, but eſpecially
Husbands, haue bene ſo great and many, as when it hath ſometime
happened, or yet may, that husbands are required in the ſelf-ſame
kinde: you need not finde fault at any ſuch accident, either by knowledge
thereof afterward, or hearing the ſame reported by any one; but
rather you ſhould referre it to generall publication, to the end, that immodeſt
men may know, and finde it for trueth, that if they haue apprehenſion
and capacity; women are therein not a iote inferiour to them.
Which cannot but redound to your great benefite, becauſe, when any
one knoweth, that another is a cunning and ſubtile as himſelfe; he will
not be ſo raſhly aduenturous in deceite. And who maketh any doubt,
that if thoſe ſleights and trickes, whereof this dayes argument may
giue vs occaſion to ſpeake, ſhould afterwardes be put in execution by
men: would it not miniſter iuſt reaſon, of puniſhing themſelues for beguiling
you, knowing, that (if you pleaſe) you haue the like abilitie in
your owne power? Mine intent therefore is to tell you, what a woman
(though but of meane quality) did to her husband, vpon a ſodaine, and
in a moment (as it were) for her owne ſafety.
Not long ſince, there liued in Naples, an honeſt meane man, who did
take to Wife, a fayre and luſtie young Woman, being named Peronella.
He profeſſing the Trade of a Maſon, and ſhee Carding and Spinning,
maintained themſelues in a reaſonable condition, abating and
abounding as their Fortunes ſerued. It came to paſſe, that a certayne
young man, well obſeruing the beauty and good parts of Peronella, became
much addicted in affection towardes her: and by his often and
ſecret ſollicitations, which he found not to be vnkindely entertayned;
his ſucceſſe proued anſwerable to his hope, no vnindifferencie appearing
in their purpoſes, but where her eſtate ſeemed weakeſt, his ſupplies
made an addition of more ſtrength.
Now, for their ſecurer meeting, to ſtand cleare from all matter of
ſcandal or detection, they concluded in this order between themſelues.
Lazaro, for ſo was Peronellaes Husband named, being an earely riſer euery
morning, either to ſeeke for worke, or to effect it being vndertaken:
this amorous friend being therewith acquainted, and ſtanding in
ſome ſuch conuenient place, where hee could ſee Lazaroes departure
from his houſe, and yet himſelfe no way diſcerned; poore Lazaro was
no ſooner gone, but preſently he enters the houſe, which ſtood in a verie
ſolitarie ſtreet, called the Auorio. Many mornings had they thus met
together, to their no meane delight and contentation, till one eſpeciall
morning among the reſt, when Lazaro was gone forth to worke, and
Striguario (ſo was the amorous young man named) viſiting Peronella in
the houſe: vpon a very vrgent occaſion, Lazaro returned backe againe,
quite contrary to his former wont, keeping foorth all day, and neuer
comming home till night.
Finding his doore to be faſt lockt, and he hauing knockt ſoftlie once
or twice, he ſpake in this manner to himſelfe. Fortune I thanke thee,
for albeit thou haſt made mee poore, yet thou haſt beſtowed a better
bleſſing on me, in matching me with ſo good, honeſt, & louing a Wife.
Behold, though I went early out of my houſe, her ſelfe hath riſen in the
cold to ſhut the doore, to preuent the entrance of theeues, or any other
that might offend vs. Peronella hauing heard what her husband ſayde,
and knowing the manner of his knocke, ſaid fearfully to Striguario. Alas
deare friend, what ſhall wee doe? I am little leſſe then a dead Woman:
For, Lazaro my Husband is come backe again, and I know not what to
do or ſay. He neuer returned in this order before now, doubtleſſe, hee
ſaw when you entred the doore; and for the ſafety of your honour and
mine: creepe vnder this brewing Fat, till I haue opened the doore, to
know the reaſon of his ſo ſoone returning.
Striguario made no delaying of the matter, but got himſelfe cloſelie
vnder the Fat, and Peronella opening the doore for her husbands entetance,
with a frowning countenance, ſpake thus vnto him. What meaneth
this ſo early returning home againe this morning? It ſeemeth, thou
intendeſt to do nothing to day, having brought backe thy tooles in thy
hands. If ſuch be thine intent, how ſhall we liue? Where ſhal we haue
bread to fill our bellies? Dooeſt thou thinke, that I will ſuffer thee to
pawne my gowne, and other poore garments, as heeretofore thou haſt
done? I that card and ſpinne both night and day, till I haue worne the
fleſh from my fingers; yet all will hardly finde oyle to maintaine our
Lampe. Husband, husband, there is not one neighbour dwelling by
vs, but makes a mockerie of me, and tels me plainly, that I may be aſhamed
to drudge and moyle as I do; wondering not a little, how I a
••
ble
to endure it; and thou returneſt home with thy hands in thy hoſe, as if
thou hadſt no worke at all to do this day.
Hauing thus ſpoken, ſhe fell to weeping, and then thus began again.
Poore wretched woman as I am, in an vnfortunate houre was I borne,
and in a much worſe, when I was made thy Wife. I could haue had a
proper, handſome yong man; one, that would haue maintained mee
braue and gallantly: but, beaſt as I was, to forgoe my good, and caſt
my ſelfe away on ſuch a beggar as thou art, and whom none wold haue
had, but ſuch an Aſſe as I. Other women liue at hearts eaſe, and in iollity,
haue their amorous friends and louing Paramours, yea, one, two,
three at once, making their husbands looke like a Moone creſſent, wheron
they ſhine Sun-like, with amiable lookes, becauſe they know not how
to helpe it: when I (poore foole) liue heere at home a miſerable life, not
daring once to dreame of ſuch follies, an innocent ſoule, heartleſſe and
harmeleſſe.
Many times, ſitting and ſighing to my ſelfe: Lord, thinke I, of what
mettall am I made? Why ſhould not I haue a Friend in a corner, aſwell
as others haue? I am fleſh and blood, as they are, not made of braſſe or
iron, and therefore ſubiect to womens frailty. I would thou ſhouldeſt
know it husband, and I tell it thee in good earneſt; That if I would doe
ill, I could quickely finde a friend at a neede. Gallants there are good
ſtore, who (of my knowledge) loue me dearely, and haue made me very
large and liberall promiſes, of Golde, Siluer, Iewels, and gay Garments,
if I would extend them the leaſt fauour. But my heart will not
ſuffer me, I neuer was the daughter of ſuch a mother, as had ſo much as
a thought of ſuch matters: no, I thanke our bleſſed Ladie, and S. Friſwid
for it: and yet thou returneſt home againe, when thou ſhouldſt be at
Worke.
Lazaro, who ſtoode all this while like a well-beleeuing Logger-head,
demurely thus anſwered. Alas good Wife! I pray you bee not ſo angry,
I neuer had ſo much as an ill thought of you, but know wel enough
what you are, and haue made good proofe thereof this morning. Vnderſtand
therefore patiently (ſweet Wife) that I went forth to my work
as dayly I vſe to do, little dreaming (as I thinke you doe not) that it had
bene Holy-day. Wife, this is the Feaſt day of Saint Galeone; whereon
we may in no wiſe worke, and this is the reaſon of my ſo ſoone returning.
Neuertheleſſe (deare Wife) I was not careleſſe of our Houſhold
prouiſion: For, though we worke not, yet we muſt haue foode, which I
haue prouided for more then a moneth. Wife, I remembred the brewing
Fat, whereof wee haue little or no vſe at all, but rather it is a trouble
to the houſe, then otherwiſe. I met with an honeſt Friend, who ſtayeth
without at the doore, to him I haue ſold the Fat for ten Gigliatoes, and he
tarrieth to take it away with him.
How Husband? replied Peronella, Why now I am worſe offended
then before. Thou that art a man, walkeſt euery where, and ſhouldſt be
experi
•
nced in worldly affaires: wouldſt thou bee ſo ſimple, as to ſell
ſuch a brewing Fat for ten Gigliatoes? Why, I that am a poore ignorant
woman, a houſe-Doue, ſildome going out of my doore: haue ſold it already
for twelue Gigliatoes, to a very honeſt man, who (euen a little before
thy comming home) came to me, we agreed on the bargaine, and he
is now vnderneath the Fat, to ſee whether it be ſound or no. When credulous
Lazaro heard this, he was better contented then euer, and went
to him that taried at the doore, ſaying. Good man, you may goe your
way; for, whereas you offered me but ten Gigliatoes for the Fat, my louing
wife hath ſold it for twelue, and I muſt maintaine what ſhee hath
done: ſo the man departed, and the variance ended.
Peronella then ſaide to her husband. Seeing thou art come home ſo
luckily, helpe me to lift vp the Fat, that the man may come foorth, and
then you two end the bargaine together. Striguario▪
who thogh he was
mewed vp vnder the tubbe, had his eares open enough; and hearing the
witty excuſe of Peronella, tooke himſelfe free from future feare: and being
come from vnder the Fat, pretending alſo, as if he had herd nothing,
nor ſaw Lazaro, looking round about him, ſaid. Where is this good woman?
Lazaro ſtepping forth boldly like a man, replyed: Heere am I,
what wold you haue Sir? Thou? quoth Striguario, what art thou? I ask
for the good wife, with whom I made my match for the Fat. Honeſt
Gentleman (anſwered Lazaro) I am that honeſt Womans Husband,
for lacke of a better, and I will maintaine whatſoeuer my Wife hath
done.
I crie you mercie Sir, replyed Striguario, I bargained with your Wife
for this brewing Fat, which I finde to be whole and ſound: only it is vncleane
within, hard cruſted with ſome dry ſoile vpon it, which I know
not well how to get off, if you will be the meanes of making it cleane, I
haue the money heere ready for it. For that Sir (quoth Peronella) take
you no care, although no match at all had beene made, what ſerues my
Husband for, but to make it cleane? Yes forſooth Sir, anſwered ſily Lazaro,
you ſhall haue it neate and cleane before you pay the mony.
So, ſtripping himſelfe into his ſhirt, lighting a Candle, and taking
tooles fit for the purpoſe; the Fat was whelmed ouer him, and he being
within it, wrought vntill he ſweated, with ſcraping and ſcrubbing. So
that theſe poore Louers, what they could not accompliſh as they wold,
neceſſity enforced them to performe as they might. And Peronella, looking
in at the vent-hole, where the Liquor runneth forth for the meſhing;
ſeemed to inſtruct her husband in the buſineſſe, as eſpying thoſe
parts where the Fat was fowleſt, ſaying: There, there Lazaro, tickle it
there, the Gentleman payes well for it, and is worthy to haue it: but ſee
thou do thy ſelfe no harme good Husband. I warrant thee Wife, anſwered
Lazaro, hurt not your ſelfe with leaning your ſtomacke on the
Fat, and leaue the cleanſing of it to me. To be breefe, the Brewing Fat
was neatly cleanſed, Peronella and Striguario both well pleaſed, the money
paide, and honeſt meaning Lazaro not diſcontented.
Friar Reynard, falling in loue with a Gentlewoman, Wife to a man of good account; found the meanes to become her Goſsip. Afterward, he being conferring cloſely with her in her Chamber, and her Husband coming ſodainly thither: ſhe made him beleeue, that he came thither for no other end; but to cure his God-ſonne by a charme, of a dangerous diſeaſe which he had by Wormes.
The Third Nouell.
Seruing as a friendly aduertiſement to married women, that Monks, Friars, and Prieſts may be none of their Goſsips, in regard of vnauoydable perilles enſuing thereby.
PHilostratus told not this Tale ſo couertly, concerning Lazaros
ſimplicity, and Peronellaes witty policy; but the Ladies found
a knot in the ruſh, and laughed not a little, at his queint manner
of diſcourſing it. But vpon the concluſion, the King looking vpon
Madam Eliza, willed her to ſucceede next, which as willingly ſhe granted,
and thus began. Pleaſant Ladies, the charme or coniuration wherwith
Madam Aemillia laid her night-walking Spirit, maketh me remember
a Nouell of another enchantment; which although it carrieth not
commendation equall to the other, yet I intend to report it, becauſe it
ſuteth with our preſent purpoſe, and I cannot ſodainly be furniſht with
another, anſwerable thereto in nature.
You are to vnderſtand then, that there liued in Stena, a proper yong
man, of good birth and well friended, being named Reynard. Earneſtly
he affected his neere dwelling neighbour, a beautifull Gentlewoman,
and wife to a man of good eſteeme: of whom hee grew halfe perſwaded,
that if he could (without ſuſpition) compaſſe priuate conference
with her, he ſhould reach the height of his amorous deſires. Yet ſeeing
no likely meanes wherewith to further his hope, and ſhee being great
with childe, he reſolued to become a Godfather to the childe, at ſuch
time as it ſhould be brought to Chriſtening. And being inwardly acquainted
with her Husband, who was named Credulano; ſuch familiar
entercourſes paſſed betweene them, both of Reynards kinde offer, and
Credulanoes as courteous acceptance, that hee was ſet downe for a Goſſippe.
Reynard being thus embraced for Madam Agneſiaes Goſſip, and this
prouing the onely colourable meanes, for his ſafer permiſſion of ſpeech
with her, to let her now vnderſtand by word of mouth, what long before
ſhe collected by his lookes and behauiour: it fell out no way beneficiall
to him, albeit Agneſia ſeemed not nice or ſcrupulous in hearing,
yet ſhe had a more precious care of her honor. It came to paſſe, within
a while after (whether by ſeeing his labour vainly ſpent, or ſome other
vrgent occaſion mouing him thereto, I know not) Reynard would needs
enter into Religion, and whatſoeuer ſtrictneſſe or auſteritie hee found
to be in that kinde of life, yet he determined to perſeuere therein, whether
it were for his good or ill. And although within a ſhort ſpace, after
he was thus become a Religious Monke, hee ſeemed to forget the
former loue which he bare to his goſſip Agneſia, and diuers other enormous
vanities beſide: yet let me tell you, ſucceſſe of time tutord him
in them againe; and, without any reſpect to his poore holy habite, but
rather in contempt thereof (as it were) he tooke an eſpeciall delight, in
wearing garments of much richer eſteeme, yet fauoured by the ſame
Monaſticall profeſſion, appearing (in all reſpects) like a Court-Minion
or Fauourite, of a ſprightly and Poeticall diſpoſition, for compoſing
Verſes, Sonnets, and Canzons, ſinging them to ſundry excellent inſtruments,
and yet not greatly curious of his company, ſo they were ſome
of the beſt, and Madame Agneſia one, his former Goſſip.
But why doe I trouble my ſelfe, in talking thus of our ſo lately conuerted
Friar, holy Father Reynard, when they of longer ſtanding, and
reputed meerely for Saints in life, are rather much more vile then hee?
Such is the wretched condition of this world, that they ſhame not (fat,
foggie, and naſtie Abbey-lubbers) to ſhew how full fedde they liue in
their Cloyſters, with cherry cheekes, and ſmooth ſhining lookes, gay
and gaudy garments, far from the leaſt expreſſion of humility, not walking
in the ſtreets like Doues: but high-creſted like Cockes, with well
cramd gorges. Nay, which is worſe, if you did but ſee their Chambers
furniſhed with Gally-pots of Electuaries, precious Vnguents, Apothecary
Boxes, filled with various Confections, Conſerues, excellent Perfumes,
and other goodly Glaſſes of artificiall Oyles and Waters: beſide
Rundlers and ſmall Barrels full of Greeke Wine, Muſcatella, Lachrime
Christi, and other ſuch like moſt precious Wines, ſo that (to ſuch as ſee
them) they ſeeme not to bee Chambers of Religious men; but rather
Apothecaries Shoppes, or appertaining to Druggiſts, Grocers, or Perfumers.
It is no diſgrace to them to be Gowty; becauſe when other men know
it not, they alledge, that ſtrict faſting, feeding on groſſe meates (though
neuer ſo li
•
le,) continuall ſtudying, and ſuch like reſtraints from the bodies
freer exerciſe, maketh them ſubiect to many infirmities. And yet,
when any one of them chanceth to fall ſicke, the Phyſitian muſt miniſter
no ſuch counſell to them, as Chaſtity, Abſtinence from voluptuous
meats, Diſcipline of the body, or any of thoſe matters appertaining to a
modeſt religious life. For, concerning the plaine, vulgar, and Plebeian
people, theſe holy Fathers are perſwaded, that they know nothing really
belonging to a ſanctimonious life; as long watching, praying, diſcipline
and faſting, which (in themſelues) are not able, to make men look
leane, wretched, and pale. Becauſe Saint Dominicke, Saint Fraunces,
and diuers other holy Saints beſide, obſerued the ſelfeſame religious orders
and conſtitutions, as now their carefull ſucceſſors do. Moreouer,
in example of thoſe fore-named Saints, who went wel cloathed, though
they had not three Garments for one, nor made of the fineſt Woollen
excellent cloath: but rather of the very coarſeſt of all other, and of the
common ordinary colour, to expell cold onely, but not to appear braue
or gallant, deceyuing thereby infinite ſimple credulous ſoules, whoſe
purſes (neuertheleſſe) are their beſt pay-maſters.
But leaue we this, and returne wee backe to vertuous Fryar Reynard,
who falling againe to his former appetites; became an often viſitant of
his Goſſip Agneſia, and now hee had learned ſuch a bluſhleſſe kinde of
boldneſſe; that he durſt be more inſtant with her (concerning his priuie
ſute) then euer formerly he had bin, yea, euen to ſolicite the enioying of
his immodeſt deſires. The good Gentlewoman, ſeeing her ſelfe ſo importunately
purſued, and Fryar Reynard appearing now (perhappes) of
ſweeter and more delicare complexion, then at his entrance into Religion:
at a ſet time of his ſecret communing with her; ſhe anſwered him in
as apt tearmes, as they vſe to do, who are not greatly ſqueamiſh, in granting
matters demanded of them.
Why how now Friar Reynard? quoth ſhee, Doe God-fathers vſe to
moue ſuch queſtions? Whereto the Friar thus replyed. Madam, when
I haue laide off this holy habite (which is a matter very eaſie for mee to
do) I ſhall ſeeme in your eye, in all reſpects made like another man, quite
from the courſe of any Religious life. Agneſia, biting the lip with a prety
ſmile, ſaid; O my faire Starres! You will neuer bee ſo vnfriendly to
me. What? You being my Goſsip, would you haue me conſent vnto
ſuch a ſinne? Our bleſſed Lady ſhield mee, for my ghoſtly Father hath
often told me, that it is vtterly vnpardonable: but if it were, I feare too
much confiding on mine owne ſtrength. Goſſip, Goſſip, anſwered the
Friar, you ſpeake like a Foole, and feare (in this caſe) is wholly friuolous,
eſpecially, when the motions mooued by ſuch an one as my ſelfe,
who (vpon repentance) can grant you pardon and indulgence preſently.
But I pray you let mee aske you one queſtion, Who is the neereſt
Kinſman to your Son; either I, that ſtood at the Font for his Baptiſme,
or your Husband that begot him? The Lady made anſwere, that it was
her Husband. You ſay very true Goſſip, replyed the Friar, and yet
notwithſtanding, doth not your Husband (both at boord and bed) enioy
the ſweet benefit of your company? Yes, ſaid the Lady, why ſhold
he not? Then Lady (quoth Reynard) I, who am not ſo neere a Kinſman
to your Sonne, as your Husband is, why may ye not afford mee the like
fauour, as you do him? Agneſia, who was no Logitian, and therefore
could not ſtand on any curious anſwer, eſpecially being ſo cuningly moued;
beleeued, or rather made ſhew of beleeuing, that the Godfather ſaid
nothing but truth, and thus anſwered. What woman is ſhe (Goſſip) that
knoweth how to anſwer your ſtrange ſpeeches? And, how it came to
paſſe, I know not, but ſuch an agreement paſſed betweene them, that, for
once onely (ſo it might not infrindge the league of Goſſip-ſhip, but that
title to countenance their further intent) ſuch a fauour ſhould be affoorded,
ſo it might ſtand cleare from ſuſpition.
An eſpeciall time being appointed, when this amorous Combate
ſhould be fought in loues field, Friar Reynard came to his Goſſips houſe,
where none being preſent to hinder his purpoſe, but onely the Nurſſe
which attended on the child, who was an indifferent faire & proper woman:
his holy brother that came thither in his company (becauſe Friars
were not allowed to walke alone) was ſent aſide with her into the Pigeon
loft, to enſtruct her in a new kinde of Pater noſter, lately deuiſed in
their holy Conuent. In the meane while, as Friar Reynard and Agneſia
were entring into hir chamber, ſhe leading her little ſon by the hand, and
making faſt the doore for their better ſafety: the Fri
•
r laide by his holie
habit, Cowle, Hood, Booke, and Beads, to bee (in all reſpects) as other
men were. No ſooner were they thus entred the Chamber, but her huſband
Credulano, being come into the houſe, and vnſeen of any, ſtaid not
till he was at the Chamber doore, where hee knockt, and called for his
Wife.
She hearing his voice: Alas Goſſip (quoth ſhe) what ſhall I do? My
Husband knocketh at the doore, and now he will perceiue the occaſion
of our ſo familiar acquaintance. Reynard being ſtript into his Truſſe and
ſtraite Strouſes, began to tremble and quake exceedingly. I heare your
Husbands tongue Goſſip, ſaid he, and ſeeing no harme as yet hath bin
done, if I had but my garments on againe; wee would haue one excuſe
or other to ſerue the turne, but till then you may not open the doore.
As womens wits are ſildome gadding abroad, when any neceſſitie concerneth
them at home: euen ſo Agneſia, being ſodainly prouided of an
inuention, both how to ſpeake and carry her ſelfe in this extreamitie,
ſaide to the Friar. Get on your garments quickely, and when you are
cloathed, take your little God-ſon in your armes, and liſtning wel what
I ſhall ſay, ſhape your anſweres according to my words, and then refer
the matter to me. Credulano had ſcarſely ended his knocking, but Agneſia
ſtepping to the doore ſaid: Husband, I come to you. So ſhe opened
the doore, and (going forth to him) with a chearefull countenance thus
ſpake. Beleeue me Husband, you could not haue come in a more happy
time, for our yong Son was ſodainly extreamly ſicke, and (as good
Fortune would haue it) our louing Goſſip Reynard chanced to come in;
and queſtionleſſe, but by his good prayers and other religious paynes,
we had vtterly loſt our childe, for he had no life left in him.
Credulano, being as credulous as his name imported, ſeemed ready to
ſwoune with ſodaine conceit: Alas good wife (quoth he) how hapned
this? Sit downe ſweet Husband ſaid ſhe, and I wil tell you al. Our child
was ſodainly taken with a ſwouning, wherein I being vnskilful, did verily
ſuppoſe him to be dead, not knowing what to doe, or ſay. By good
hap, our Goſſip Reynard came in, and taking the childe vp in his armes,
ſaid to me. Goſſip, this is nothing elſe but Wormes in the bellie of the
childe, which aſcending to the heart, muſt needs kill the child, without
all queſtion to the contrary. But be of good comfort Goſſip, and feare
not, for I can charme them in ſuch ſort, that they ſhall all die, and before
I depart hence, you ſhall ſee your Son as healthfull as euer. And
becauſe the maner of this charm is of ſuch nature, that it required prayer
and exorciſing in two places at once: Nurſe went vp with his Holye
Brother into our Pigeon loft, to exerciſe their deuotion there, while we
did the like heere. For none but the mother of the childe muſt bee preſent
at ſuch a myſtery, nor any enter to hinder the operation of the
charme; which was the reaſon of making faſt the Chamber doore. You
ſhall ſee Husband anon the Childe, which is indifferently recouered in
his armes, and if Nurſe and his holy Brother were returned from theyr
meditations; he ſaith, that the charme would then be fully effected: for
the child beginneth to looke chearefull and merry.
So deerely did Credulano loue the childe, that hee verily beleeued,
what his Wife had ſaide, neuer miſdoubting any other treachery: and,
lifting vp his eyes, with a vehement ſigh, ſaid. Wife, may not I goe in
and take the child into my armes? Oh no, not yet good husband (quoth
ſhe) in any caſe, leaſt you ſhould ouerthrow all that is done. Stay but
a little while, I will go in againe, and if all bee well, then will I call you.
In went Agneſia againe, making the doore faſt after her, the Fryar hauing
heard all the paſſed ſpeeches, by this time he was fitted with his habite,
and taking the childe in his armes, he ſaid to Agneſia. Goſſip methought
I heard your Husbands voice, is hee at your Chamber doore?
Yes Goſſip Reynard (quoth Credulano without, while Agneſia opened
the doore, and admitted him entrance) indeede it is I. Come in Sir, I
pray you, replyed the Friar, and heere receiue your childe of mee, who
was in great danger, of your euer ſeeing him any more aliue. But you
muſt take order, to make an Image of waxe, agreeing with the ſtature of
the childe, to be placed on the Altar before the Image of S. Frances, by
whoſe merires the childe is thus reſtored to health.
The childe, beholding his Father, made ſignes of comming to him,
reioycing merrily, as yong infants vſe to do; and Credulano claſping him
in his armes, wept with conceite of ioy, kiſſing him infinitely, and heartily
thanking his Goſſip Reynard, for the recouery of his God-ſon. The
Friars brotherly Companion, who had giuen ſufficient enſtructions to
the Nurſe, and a ſmall purſe full of Siſters white thred, which a Nunne
(after ſhrift) had beſtowed on him, vpon the husbands admittance into
the Chamber (which they eaſily heard) came in alſo to them, and ſeeing
all in very good tearmes, they holpe to make a ioyfull concluſion,
the Brother ſaying to Friar Reynard: Brother, I haue finiſhed all thoſe
foure Iaculatory prayers, which you commanded me.
Brother, anſwered Reynard, you haue a better breath then I, and your
ſucceſſe hath prooued happier then mine, for before the arriuall of my
Goſſip Credulano, I could accompliſh but two Iaculatory prayers onely.
But it appeareth, that we haue both preuailed in our deuout deſires,
becauſe the childe is perfectly cured. Credulano calling for Wine and
good cheare, feaſted both the Friars very iocondly, and then conducting
them forth of his houſe, without any further intermiſsion, cauſed
the childs Image of waxe to be made, and ſent it to be placed on the Altar
of Saint Frances, among many other the like oblations.
Tofano in the night ſeaſon, did locke his wife out of his houſe, and ſhee not preuailing to get entrance againe, by all the entreaties ſhe could poſsiblie vſe: made him beleeue that ſhe had throwne her ſelfe into a Well, by caſting a great ſtone into the ſame Well. Tofano hearing the fall of the ſtone into the Well, and being perſwaded that it was his Wife indeed; came forth of his houſe, and ran to the Welles ſide. In the meane while, his wife gotte into the houſe, made fast the doore against her Husband, and gaue him many reproachfull ſpeeches.
The Fourth Nouell.
Wherein is manifeſted, that the malice and ſubtilty of a woman, ſurpaſſeth all the Art or Wit in man,
SO ſoone as the King perceyued, that the Nouell reported by
Madame Eliza was finiſhed: hee turned himſelfe to Madame
Lauretta, and told her it was his pleaſure, that ſhe ſhould now
begin the next, whereto ſhe yeelded in this manner. O Loue: What,
and how many are thy preuailing forces? How ſtraunge are thy foreſights?
And how admirable thine attempts? Where is, or euer was the
Philoſopher or Artiſt, that could enſtruct the wiles, eſcapes, preuentions,
and demonſtrations, which ſodainly thou teacheſt ſuch, as are thy
apt and vnderſtanding Schollers indeede? Certaine it is, that the documents
and eruditions of all other whatſoeuer, are weak, or of no worth,
in reſpect of thine: as hath notably appeared, by the remonſtrances already
paſt, and whereto (worthy Ladies) I wil adde another of a ſimple
woman, who taught her husband ſuch a leſſon, as ſhee neuer learned of
any, but Loue himſelfe.
There dwelt ſometime in Arezzo (which is a faire Village of Tuſcany)
a rich man, named Tofano, who enioyed in marriage a young beautifull
woman, called Oneta: of whom (without any occaſion giuen, or reaſon
knowne to himſelfe) he became exceeding iealous. Which his wife perceyuing,
ſhe grew much offended thereat, and tooke it in great ſcorne,
that ſhe ſhould be ſeruile to ſo vile and ſlauiſh a condition. Oftentimes,
ſhe demanded of him, from whence this iealouſie in him receiued originall,
he hauing neuer ſeene or heard of any; he could make her no other
anſwer, but what his owne bad humour ſuggeſted, and droue him euery
day (almoſt) to deaths doore, by feare of that which no way needed.
But, whether as a iuſt ſcourge for this his groſſe folly, or a ſecret decree,
ordained to him by Fortune and the Fates, I am not able to diſtinguiſh:
It came ſo to paſſe, that a young Gallant made meanes to enioy her fauour,
and ſhe was ſo diſcreetly wiſe in iudging of his worthineſſe; that
affection paſſed ſo farre mutually betweene them, as nothing wanted,
but effects to anſwere words, ſuited with time and place conuenient, for
which order was taken as beſt they might, yet to ſtand free from all ſuſpition.
Among many other euill conditions, very frequent and familiar in
her husband Tofano; he tooke a great delight in drinking, which not only
he held to be a commendable quality, but was alwaies ſo often ſolicited
thereto: that Cheta her ſelfe began to like and allow it in him, feeding
his humor ſo effectually, with quaffing and carowſing, that (at any
time when ſhe liſted) ſhe could make him bowſie beyonde all meaſure:
and leauing him ſleeping in this drunkenneſſe, would alwayes get her
ſelfe to bed. By helpe heereof, ſhe compaſſed the firſt familiarity with
her friend, yea, diuers times after, as occaſion ſerued: and ſo confidently
did ſhe builde on her husbands drunkenneſſe, that not onely ſhee aduentured
to bring her friend home into her owne houſe; but alſo would
as often go to his, which was ſome-what neere at hand, and abide with
him there, the moſt part of the night ſeaſon.
While Cheta thus continued on theſe amorous courſes, it fortuned,
that her ſlye ſuſpitious husband, beganne to perceiue, that though ſhee
drunke very much with him, yea, vntill he was quite ſpent and gone: yet
ſhe remained freſh and ſober ſtill, and therby imagined ſtrange matters,
that he being faſt aſleepe, his wife then tooke aduantage of his drowſineſſe,
and might—and ſo forth. Beeing deſirous to make experience
of this his diſtruſt, hee returned home at night (not hauing drunke
any thing all the whole day) diſſembling both by his words and behauiour,
as if he were-notoriouſly drunke indeede. Which his Wife conſtantly
beleeuing, ſaide to her ſelfe: That hee had now more neede of
ſleepe, then drinke; getting him immediately into his warme bed; and
then going downe the ſtaires againe, ſoftly went out of doores vnto her
Friends houſe, as formerly ſhe had vſed to do, and there ſhee remained
vntill midnight.
Tofano perceiuing that his Wife came not to bed, and imagining to
haue heard his doore both open and ſhut: aroſe out of his bed, and calling
his Wife Cheta diuers times, without any anſwere returned: hee
went downe the ſtaires, and finding the doore but cloſed too, made it
faſt and ſure on the inſide, and then got him vp to the window, to watch
the returning home of his wife, from whence ſhee came, and then to
make her conditions apparantly knowne. So long there he ſtayed, till at
the laſt ſhe returned indeede, and finding the doore ſo ſurely ſhut, ſhee
was exceeding ſorrowful, eſſaying how ſhe might get it open by ſtrēgth:
which when Tofano had long ſuffered her in vaine to approoue, thus hee
ſpake to her. Cheta, Cheta, all thy labour is meerely loſt, becauſe heere is
no entrance allowed for thee; therefore return to the place from whence
thou cameſt, that all thy friends may iudge of thy behauiour, and know
what a night-walker thou art become.
The woman hearing this vnpleaſing language, began to vſe all humble
entreaties, deſiring him (for charities ſake) to open the doore and admit
her entrance, becauſe ſhe had not bin in any ſuch place, as his ielous
ſuſpition might ſuggeſt to him: but onely to viſit a weak & ſickly neighbour,
the nights being long, ſhe not (as yet) capeable of ſleepe, nor willing
to ſit alone in the houſe. But all her perſwaſions ſerued to no purpoſe,
he was ſo ſetled in his owne opinion, that all the Town ſhould now
ſee her nightly gading, which before was not ſo much as ſuſpected. Cheta
ſeeing, that faire meanes would not preuaile, ſhee entred into roughe
ſpeeches and threatnings, ſaying: If thou wilt not open the doore and let
me come in, I will ſo ſhame thee, as neuer baſe man was. As how I pray
thee? anſwered Tofano, what canſt thou do to me?
The woman, whom loue had inſpired with ſprightly counſell, ingeniouſly
enſtructing her what to do in this diſtreſſe, ſtearnly thus replyed.
Before I will ſuffer any ſuch ſhame as thou intendeſt towards mee, I
will drowne my ſelfe heere in this Well before our doore, where being
found dead, and thy villanous iealouſie ſo apparantly knowne, beſide
thy more then beaſtly drunkenneſſe: all the neighbours will conſtantly
beleeue, that thou didſt firſt ſtrangle me in the houſe, and afterwardes
threw me into this Well. So either thou muſt flie vpon the ſuppoſed offence,
or loſe all thy goodes by baniſhment, or (which is much more fitting
for thee) haue thy head ſmitten off, as a wilfullmurtherer of thy wife;
for all will iudge it to be no otherwiſe. All which wordes, mooued not
Tofano a iot from his obſtinat determination: but he ſtill perſiſting therin,
thus ſhe ſpake. I neither can nor will longer endure this baſe Villanie
of thine: to the mercy of heauen I commit my ſoul, and ſtand there my
wheele, a witneſſe againſt ſo hard-hearted a murtherer.
No ſooner had ſhe thus ſpoke, but the night being ſo extreamly dark,
as they could not diſcerne one another; Cheta went to the Well, where
finding a verie great ſtone, which lay looſe vpon the brim of the Well,
euen as if it had beene layde there on purpoſe, ſhee cried out aloud, ſaying.
Forgiue me faire heauens, and ſo threw the ſtone downe into the
Well. The night being very ſtill & ſilent, the fal of the great ſtone made
ſuch a dreadfull noiſe in the Well; that he hearing it at the Windowe,
thought verily ſhe had drowned her ſelfe indeede. Whereupon, running
downe haſtily, and taking a Bucket faſtened to a ſtrong Cord: he
left the doore wide open, intending ſpeedily to helpe her. But ſhe ſtanding
cloſe at the doores entrance; before he could get to the Wels fide;
ſhe was within the houſe, ſoftly made the doore faſt on the inſide, and
then went vp to the Window, where Tofano before had ſtood talking
to her.
While he was thus dragging with his Bucket in the Well, crying and
calling Cheta; take hold good Cheta, and ſaue thy life: ſhe ſtood laughing
in the Window, ſaying. Water ſhould bee put into Wine before
a man drinkes it, and not when he hath drunke too much already. Tofano
hearing his Wife thus to flout him out of his Window, went back
to the doore, and finding it made faſt againſt him: he willed hir to grant
him entrance. But ſhe, forgetting all gentle Language, which formerly
ſhe had vſed to him: in meere mockery and deriſion (yet intermixed
with ſome ſighes and teares, which women are ſaide to haue at command)
out aloud (becauſe the Neighbours ſhould heare her) thus ſhe
replyed.
Beaſtly drunken Knaue as thou art, this night thou ſhalt not come
within theſe doores, I am no longer able to endure thy baſe behauour,
it is more then high time, that thy courſe of life ſhould bee publiquely
known, and at what drunken houres thou returneſt home to thy houſe.
Tofano, being a man of very impatient Nature, was as bitter vnto her in
words on the other ſide, which the Neighbours about them (both men
and Women) hearing; looked forth of their Windowes, and demaunding
a reaſon for this their diſquietneſſe, Cheta (ſeeming as if ſhe wept)
ſayde.
Alas my good Neighbours, you ſee at what vnfitting houres, this
bad man comes home to his houſe, after hee hath lyen in a Tauerne all
day drunke, ſleeping and ſnorting like a Swine. You are my honeſt witneſſes,
how long I haue ſuffered this beaſtlineſſe in him, yet neyther
your good counſell, nor my too often louing admonitions, can worke
that good which wee haue expected. Wherefore, to try if ſhame can
procure any amendment, I haue ſhut him out of doores, vntil his drunken
fit be ouer-paſt, and ſo he ſhall ſtand to coole his feet.
Tofano (but in very vnciuill maner) told her being abroad that night,
and how ſhe had vſed him: But the Neighbours ſeeing her to be within
the houſe, and beleeuing her, rather then him, in regard of his too
well knowne ill qualities; very ſharpely reproued him, gaue him groſſe
ſpeeches, pittying that any honeſt Woman ſhould be ſo continually abuſed.
Now my good Neighbours (quoth ſhe) you ſee what manner
of man he is. What would you thinke of me, if I ſhould walk the ſtreets
thus in the night time, or be ſo late out of mine owne houſe, as this dayly
Drunkard is? I was affraid leaſt you would haue giuen credit to his
diſſembling ſpeeches, when he told you, that I was at the Welles ſide,
and threw ſomething into the Well: but that I know your better opinion
of me, and how ſildome I am to be ſeene out of doores, although he
would induce your ſharper iudgement of me, and lay that ſhame vpon
me, wherein he hath ſinned himſelfe.
The Neighbours, both men and Women, were all very ſeuerely incenſed
againſt Tofano, condemning him for his great fault that night
committed, and auouching his wife to be vertuous and honeſt. Within
a little while, the noiſe paſſing from Neighbour to Neighbour, at the
length it came to the eares of her Kindred, who forthwith reſorted thither,
and hearing how ſharpely the Neighbours reprehended Tofano:
they tooke him, ſoundly baſtanadoed him, and hardly left any bone of
him vnbruiſed. Afterward, they went into the houſe, tooke all ſuch
things thence as belonged to hir, taking hir alſo with them to their dwelling,
and threatning Tofano with further infliction of puniſhment, both
for his drunkenneſſe, and cauſleſſe iealouſie.
Tofano perceyuing how curſtly they had handled him, and what crooked
meanes might further be vſed againſt him, in regard her Kindred &
Friends were very mightie: thought it much better, patiently to ſuffer
the wrong alreadie done him then by obſtinate contending, to proceed
further, and fare worſe. He became a ſuter to her Kindred, that al might
be forgotten and forgiuen, in recompence whereof; he would not onely
refraine from drunkenneſſe, but alſo, neuer more be ielous of his wife.
This being faithfully promiſed, and Cheta reconciled to her Husband,
all ſtrife was ended, ſhe enioyed her friends fauour, as occaſion ſerued,
but yet with ſuch diſcretion, as it was not noted. Thus the Coxcombe
foole, was faine to purchaſe his peace, after a notorious wrong
ſuſtained, and further iniuries to bee
offered.
A Iealous man, clouded with the habite of a Prieſt, became the Confeſſ
•
ur to his owne Wife; who made him beleeue, that ſhe was deepely in loue with a Prieſt, which came euery night, and lay with her. By meanes of which confeſsion, while her iealous Husband watched the doore of his houſe; to ſurprize the Priest when he came: ſhe that neuer meant to do amiſſe, had the company of a ſecret Friend, who came ouer the toppe of the houſe to viſite her, while her fooliſh Husband kept the doore.
The Fift Nouell.
In iust ſcorne and mockery of ſuch iealous Husbands, that will be ſo idle headed vpon no occaſion. And yet when they haue good reaſon for it, do leaſt of all ſuſpect any ſuch iniury.
MAdam Lauretta hauing ended her Nouell, and euery one commended
the Woman, for fitting Tofano in his kinde; and, as
his iealouſie and drunkenneſſe iuſtly deſerued: the King (to
preuent all loſſe of time) turned to Madame Fiammetta, commaunding
her to follow next: whereuppon, very graciouſly, ſhee beganne in this
manner.
Noble Ladies, the precedent Nouell deliuered by Madame Lauretta,
maketh me willing to ſpeake of another iealous man; as being halfe
perſwaded, that whatſoeuer is done to them by their Wiues, and eſpecially
vpon no occaſion giuen, they doe no more then well becommeth
them. And if thoſe graue heads, which were the firſt inſtituters of lawes,
had diligently obſerued all things; I am of the minde, that they would
haue ordained no other penalty for Women, then they appointed againſt
ſuch, as (in their owne defence) do offend any other. For iealous
husbands, are meere inſidiators of their Wiues liues, and moſt diligent
purſuers of their deaths, being lockt vp in their houſes all the Weeke
long, imployed in nothing but domeſticke drudging affayres: which
makes them deſirous of high Feſtiuall dayes, to receiue ſome litle comfort
abroad, by an honeſt recreation or paſtime, as Husbandmen in the
fields, Artizans in our Citie, or Gouernours in our iudiciall Courtes;
yea, or as our Lord himſelfe, who reſted the ſeauenth day from all his
trauailes. In like manner, it is ſo willed and ordained by the Lawes, as
well diuine as humane, which haue regard to the glory of God, and for
the common good of euery one; making diſtinction betweene thoſe
dayes appointed for labour, and the other determined for reſt. Whereto
iealous perſons (in no caſe) will giue conſent, but all thoſe dayes
(which for other women are pleaſing and delightfull) vnto ſuch, ouer
whom they command, are moſt irkſome, ſadde and ſorrowful, becauſe
then they are lockt vp, and very ſtrictly reſtrained. And if queſtion wer
vrged, how many good women do liue and conſume away in this torturing
hel of affliction: I can make no other anſwere, but ſuch as feele it,
are beſt able to diſcouer it. Wherefore to conclude the proheme to my
preſent purpoſe, let none be ouer raſh in condemning women: for what
they do to their husbands, being iealous without occaſion; but rather
commend their wit and prouidence.
Somtime (faire Ladies) there liued in Arimino, a Merchant, very rich
in wealth and worldly poſſeſſions, who hauing a beautifull Gentlewoman
to his wife, he became extreamly ielous of her. And he had no other
reaſon for this fooliſh conceit; but, like as he loued hir dearly, and
found her to be very abſolutely faire: euen ſo he imagined, that althogh
ſhe deuiſed by her beſt meanes to giue him content; yet others would
grow enamored of her, becauſe ſhe appeared ſo amiable to al. In which
reſpect, time might tutor her to affect ſome other beſide himſelfe: the
onely common argument of euery bad minded man, being weake and
ſhallow in his owne vnderſtanding. This ielous humor increaſing in him
more and more, he kept her in ſuch narrow reſtraint: that many perſons
condemned to death, haue enioyed larger libertie in their impriſonment.
For, ſhe might not bee preſent at Feaſts, Weddings, nor goe to
Church, or ſo much as to be ſeen at her doore: Nay, ſhe durſt not ſtand
in her Window, nor looke out of her houſe, for any occaſion whatſoeuer.
By means whereof, life ſeemed moſt tedious and offenſiue to her,
and ſhe ſupported it the more impatiently, becauſe ſhee knew her ſelfe
not any way faulty.
Seeing her husband ſtill perſiſt in this ſhamefull courſe towards her;
ſhe ſtudied, how ſhe might beſt comfort her ſelfe in this deſolate caſe:
by deuiſing ſome one meane or other (if any at all were to bee founde)
wherby he might be requited in his kind, and wear that badge of ſhame
whereof he was now but onely affraid. And becauſe ſhe could not gain
ſo ſmall a permiſſion, as to be ſeene at any window, where (happily) ſhe
might haue obſerued ſome one paſſing by in the ſtreet, diſcerning a litle
parcell of her loue: ſhe remembred at length, that, in the next houſe to
her Husbands (they both ioyning cloſe together) there dwelt a comely
yong proper Gentleman, whoſe perfections carried correſpondencie
with her deſires. She alſo conſidered with her ſelfe, that if there were any
partition wall; ſuch a chinke or cranny might eaſily be made therein,
by which (at one time or other) ſhe ſhould gaine a ſight of the young
Gentleman, and finde an houre ſo fitting, as to conferre with him, and
beſtow her louely fauour on him, if he pleaſed to accept it. If ſucceſſe (in
this caſe) proued anſwerable to her hope, then thus ſhe reſolued to outrun
the reſt of her weariſome dayes, except the frenſie of iealouſie did finiſh
her husbands loathed life before.
Walking from one roome to another, thorough euery part of the
houſe; and no wall eſcaping without diligent ſurueying; on a day, when
her Husband was abſent from home, ſhe eſpyed in a corner very ſecret,
an indifferent cleft in the Wall, which though it yeelded no full view on
the other ſide, yet ſhe plainly perceiued it to be an handſome Chamber,
and grew more then halfe perſwaded, that either it might be the Chamber
of Philippo (for ſo was the neighbouring yong Gentleman named) or
elſe a paſſage guiding thereto. A Chambermaid of hers, who compaſſioned
her caſe very much; made ſuch obſeruance, by her Miſtreſſes direction,
that ſhe found it to be Philippoes bed Chamber, and where alwayes
he vſed to lodge alone. By often viſiting this rift or chinke in the
Wall, eſpecially when the Gentleman was there; and by throwing in
little ſtones, flowers, and ſuch like things, which fell ſtill in his way as he
walked: ſo farre ſhe preuailed, that he ſtepping to the chinke, to know
from whence they came; ſhee called ſoftly to him, who knowing her
voyce, there they had ſuch priuate conference together, as was not any
way diſpleaſing to either. So that the chinke being made a little larger;
yet ſo, as it could not be eaſily diſcerned: their mouthes might meete
with kiſſes together, and their hands folded each in other; but nothing
elſe to be performed, for continuall feare of her ielous husband.
Now the Feaſt of Chriſtmaſſe drawing neere, the Gentlewoman ſaid
to her Husband; that, if it ſtood with his liking: ſhe would do ſuch duty
as fitted with ſo ſolemne a time, by going earely in a morning vnto
Church, there to be confeſſed, and receiue her Sauiour, as other Chriſtians
did. How now? replied the iealous Aſſe, what ſinnes haue you committed,
that ſhould neede confeſſion? How Husband? quoth ſhe, what
do you thinke me to be a Saint? Who knoweth not, I pray you, that I
am as ſubiect to ſinne, as any other Woman liuing in the world? But
my ſins are not to be reuealed to you, becauſe you are no Prieſt. Theſe
words enflamed his iealouſie more violently then before, and needes
muſt he know what ſinnes ſhe had committed, & hauing reſolued what
to do in this caſe, made her anſwer: That hee was contented with her
motion, alwaies prouided, that ſhe went to no other Church, then vnto
their owne Chappel, betimes in a morning; and their own Chaplaine to
confeſſe her, or ſome other Prieſt by him appointed, but not any other:
and then ſhe to returne home preſently againe. She being a woman of
acute apprehenſion, preſently collected his whole intention: but ſeeming
to take no knowledge thereof, replyed, that ſhe would not ſwerue
from his direction.
When the appointed day was come, ſhe aroſe very earely, and being
prepared anſwerable to her owne liking, to the Chappell ſhee went as
her Husband had appointed, where her iealous Husband (being much
earlier riſen then ſhe) attended for her comming: hauing ſo ordred the
matter with his Chaplaine, that he was cloathed in his Cowle, with a
large Hood hanging ouer his eyes, that ſhe ſhould not know him, and
ſo he went and ſate downe in the Confeſſors place. Shee being entred
into the Chappell, and calling for the Prieſt to heare her confeſſion, he
made her anſwer: that he could not intehd it, but would bring her to
another holy Brother, who was at better leyſure then hee. So to her
Husband he brought her, that ſeemed (in all reſpects) like the Confeſſor
himſelfe: ſaue onely his Hood was not ſo cloſely veyled, but ſhee
knew his beard, and ſaid to her ſelfe. What a mad world is this, when
iealouſie can metamorphoſe an ordinary man into a Prieſt? But, let me
alone with him, I meane to fit him with that which he lookes for.
So, appearing to haue no knowledge at all of him, downe ſhe fell at
his feete, and he had conueyed a few Cherry ſtones into his mouth, to
trouble his ſpeech from her knowledge; for, in all things els, he thoght
himſelfe to be ſufficiently fitted for her. In the courſe of her confeſſion,
ſhe declared, that ſhe was married to a moſt wicked iealous Husband,
and with whom ſhe lead a very hatefull life. Neuertheleſſe (quoth ſhe)
I am indifferently euen with him, for I am beloued of an Holie Fryar,
that euery night commeth and lyeth with me. When the iealous Huſband
heard this, it ſtabbed him like a dagger to the heart, and, but for
this greedy couetous deſire to know more; he would faine haue broke
off confeſſion, and got him gone. But, perceiuing that it was his wiſeſt
courſe, he queſtioned further with his wife, ſaying: Why good Woman,
doth not your husband lodge with you? Yes Sir, quoth ſhe. How
is it poſſible then (replyed the Husband) that the Friar can lodge there
with you too?
She, diſſembling a farre fetcht ſigh, thus anſwered. Reuerend Sir, I
know not what skilfull Art the Fryar vſeth, but this I am ſure, euery
doore in our houſe will flye open to him, ſo ſoone as he doth but touch
it. Moreouer, he told me, that when he commeth vnto my Chamber
doore, he ſpeaketh certaine words to himſelfe, which immediately caſteth
my Husband into a dead ſleepe, and, vnderſtanding him to bee
thus ſleepily entranced: he openeth the doore, entreth in, lieth downe
by me, and this euery night he faileth not to do. The iealous Coxcomb
angerly ſcratching his head, and wiſhing his wife halfe hangd, ſaid: Miſtreſſe,
this is very badly done, for you ſhould keepe your ſelfe from all
men, but your husband onely. That ſhall I neuer doe, anſwered ſhee,
becauſe (indeed) I loue him dearely. Why then (quoth our ſuppoſed
Confeſſor) I cannot giue you any abſolution. I am the more ſory Sir,
ſaid ſhe, I came not hither to tell you any leaſings, for if I could, yet I
would not, becauſe it is not good to fable with ſuch Saint-like men as
you are. You do therein (quoth hee) the better, and ſurely I am very
ſory for you, becauſe in this dangerous condition, it will bee the vtter
loſſe of your ſoule: neuertheleſſe, both for your husbands ſake and your
owne, I will take ſome paines, and vſe ſuch eſpeciall prayers in your
name, which may (perchance) greatly auayle you. And I purpoſe now
and then, to ſend you a Nouice or young Clearke of mine, whom you
may ſafely acquaint with your minde, and ſignifie to me, by him, whether
they haue done you good, or no: and if they proue helpefull, then
will we further proceed therein. Alas Sir, ſaid ſhe, neuer trouble your
ſelfe, in ſending any body to our houſe; becauſe, if my Husband ſhould
know it, he is ſo extreamly iealous, as all the world cannot otherwiſe
perſwade him, but that he commeth thither for no honeſt intent, and ſo
I ſhall liue worſe then now I do. Fear not that, good woman, quoth he,
but beleeue it certainly, that I will haue ſuch a care in this caſe, as your
Huband ſhall neuer ſpeake thereof to you. If you can doe ſo Sir, ſayde
ſhe, proceed I pray you, and I am well contented.
Confeſſion being thus ended, and ſhe receiuing ſuch pennance as hee
appointed, ſhe aroſe on her feete, and went to heare Maſſe; while our
iealous Woodcocke (teſtily puffing and blowing) put off his Religious
habite, returning home preſently to his houſe, beating his braines al the
the way as he went, what meanes he might beſt deuie, for the taking of
his wife and the Friar together, whereby to haue them both ſeuerely
puniſhed. His wife being come home from the Chappell, diſcerned by
her Husbands lookes, that he was like to keepe but a ſory Chriſtmaſſe:
yet he vſed his vtmoſt induſtry, to conceale what he had done, & which
ſhe knew as well as himſelf. And he hauing fully reſolued, to watch his
own ſtreet doore the next night enſuing in perſon, in expectation of the
Friars comming, ſaide to his Wife. I haue occaſion both to ſuppe and
lodge out of my houſe this night, wherefore ſee you the ſtreete doore
to be ſurely made faſt on the inſide, and the doore at the middeſt of the
ſtaires, as alſo your own Chamber doore, and then (in Gods name) get
you to bed. Whereto ſhe anſwered, that all ſhould be done as hee had
appointed.
Afterward, when ſhe ſaw conuenient time, ſhe went to the chink in
the Wall, and making ſuch a ſigne as ſhee was woont to doe: Phillippo
came thither, to whom ſhe declared all her mornings affayres, & what
directions her husband had giuen her. Furthermore ſhe ſaide, certaine I
am, that he will not depart from the houſe, but ſit and watch the doore
without, to take one that comes not heere. If therefore, you can climbe
ouer the houſe top, and get in at our gutter Window, you and I may
conferre more familiarly together. The young Gentleman being no
dullard, had his leſſon quickly taught him; and when night was come,
Geloſo (for ſo muſt wee tearme the Cocke-braind husband) armes himſelfe
at all points, with a browne Bill in his hand, and ſo he ſits to watch
his owne doore. His Wife had made faſt all the doores, eſpecially that
on the midſt of the ſtayres, becauſe he ſhould not (by any means) come
to her Chamber; and ſo, when the houre ſerued, the Gentleman aduentured
ouer the houſe top, found the gutter Window, and the way conducting
him to her Chamber, where I leaue them to their further amorous
conference.
Geloſo, more then halfe mad with anger, firſt, becauſe hee had loſt his
ſupper: next, hauing ſitten almoſt all the night (which was extreamely
cold and windie) his Armor much molleſting him, and yet he could ſee
no Friar come: when day drew neere, and hee aſhamed to watch there
any longer; conueighed himſelfe to ſome more conuenient place, where
putting off his Armes, and ſeeming to come from the place of his Lodging;
about the ninth houre, he found his doore open, ent
•
ed in, & went
vp the ſtayres, going to dinner with his Wife. Within a while after, according
as Geloſo had ordred the buſineſſe, a youth came thither, ſeeming
to be the Nouice ſent from the Confeſſor, and he being admitted
to ſpeake with her, demanded, whether ſhee were troubled or molleſted
that night paſſed, as formerly ſhe had bin, and whether the partie came
or no? The Woman, who knew well enough the Meſſenger (notwithſtanding
all his formall diſguiſe) made anſwer: That the party expected,
came not: but if hee had come, it was to no purpoſe; becauſe her
minde was now otherwiſe altred, albeit ſhe changed not a iote from her
amorous concluſion.
What ſhould I now further ſay vnto you? Geloſo continued his watch
many nights afterward, as hoping to ſurprize the Friar at his entrance,
and his wife kept ſtill her contented quarter, according as opportunitie
ſerued. In the concluſion, Geloſo beeing no longer able to endure his
bootleſſe watching, nor ſome (more then ordinary) pleaſing countenance
in his wife: one day demaunded of her (with a very ſtearne and
frowning brow) what ſecret ſinnes ſhee had reuealed to the ghoſtly Father,
vpon the day of her ſhrift? The Woman replyed, that ſhe would
not tell him, neyther was it a matter reaſonable, or lawfull for her to
doe. Wicked Woman, anſwered Geloſo: I knowe them all well enough,
euen in deſpight of thee, and euery word that thou ſpakeſt vnto
him. But Huswife, now I muſt further know, what the Fryar is, with
whom you are ſo farte in loue, and (by meanes o
•
his enchantments) lyeth
with you euery night; tell me what and who he is, or elſe I meane to
cut your throate.
The Woman immediately made anſwer, it was not true, that ſhe was
in loue with any Fryar. How? quoth Geloſo, didſt not thou confeſſe ſo
much to the Ghoſtly Father, the other day when thou waſt at ſhrift? No
Sir, ſayde ſhe, but if I did, I am ſure he would not diſcloſe it to you, except
hee ſuffered you to bee there preſent, which is an Article beyonde
his dutie. But if it were ſo, then I confeſſe freely, that I did ſay ſo vnto
him. Make an end then quickely Wife (quoth Geloſo) and tell mee
who the Friar is. The Woman fell into a hearty laughter, ſaying. It liketh
me ſingularly well, when a wiſe man will ſuffer himſelfe to be ledde
by a ſimple Woman, euen as a Sheepe is to the ſlaughter, and by the
hornes. If once thou waſt wiſe, that wiſedome became vtterly loſt, when
thou felſt into that diuelliſh frenſie of iealouſie, without knowing anie
reaſon for it: for, by this beaſtlike and no manly humor, thou haſt eclipſed
no meane part of my glory, and womanly reputation.
Doeſt thou imagine Husband, that if I were ſo blinded in the eyes of
my head, as thou art in them which ſhould informe thine vnderſtanding;
I could haue found out the Prieſt, that would needs bee my Confeſſor?
I knew thee Husband to be the man, and therefore I prepared
my wit accordingly, to fit thee with the fooliſh imagination which thou
ſoughteſt for, and (indeed) gaue it thee. For, if thou hadſt beene wiſe,
as thou makeſt the world to beleeue by outward apparance, thou wouldeſt
neuer haue expreſſed ſuch a baſeneſſe of minde, to borrow the coulour
of a ſanctified cloake, thereby to vndermine the ſecre
•
s of thine
honeſt meaning Wife. Wherefore, to feede thee in thy fond ſuſpition,
I was the more free in my Confeſſion, and tolde thee truely, with
whom, and how heinouſly I had tranſgreſſed. Did I not tell thee, that
I loued a Fryar? And art not thou he whom I loue, being a Fryar, and
my ghoſtly Father, though (to thine owne ſhame) thou madſt thy ſelfe
ſo? I ſaid moreouer, that there is not any doore in our houſe, that can
keepe it ſelfe ſhut againſt him, but (when he pleaſeth) he comes and lies
with me. Now tell me Husband, What doore in our houſe hath (at
any time) bin ſhut againſt thee, but they are freely thine owne, & grant
thee entrance? Thou art the ſame Friar that confeſt me, and lieth euery
night with me, and ſo often as thou ſentſt thy yong Nouice or Clearke
to me, as often did I truly returne thee word, when the ſame Fryar lay
with me. But (by iealouſie) thou haſt ſo loſt thine vnderſtanding, that
thou wilt hardly beleeue all this.
Alas good man, like an armed Watchman, thou ſatſt at thine owne
doore all a cold Winters night, perſwading mee poore ſilly credulous
woman) that, vpon vrgent occaſions, thou muſt needs ſuppe and lodge
from home. Remember thy ſelfe therefore better heereafter, become a
true vnderſtanding man, as thou ſhouldſt bee, and make not thy ſelfe a
mocking ſtocke to them, who knoweth thy iealous qualities, as well as
I do, and be not ſo watchfull ouer me, as thou art. For I ſweare by my
true honeſty, that if I were but as willing, as thou art ſuſpitious: I could
deceiue thee, if thou hadſt an hundred eyes, as Nature affords thee but
two, and haue my pleaſures freely, yet thou be not a iot the wiſer, or my
credit any way impaired.
Our wonderfull wiſe Geloſo, who (very aduiſedly conſidred) that he
had wholly heard his wiues ſecre confeſſion, and dreamed now on no
other doubt beſide, but (perceiuing by her ſpeeches) how hee was become
a ſcorne to al men: without returning other anſwer, confirmed his
wife to bee both wiſe and honeſt, and now when he hadde iuſt occaſion
on to be iealous indeede, hee vtterly forſware it, and counted them all
Coxcombes that would be ſo miſguided. Wherefore, ſhe hauing thus
wiſely wonne the way to her owne deſires, and he reduced into a more
humane temper: I hope there was no more neede, of clambring ouer
houſes in the night time like Cats, nor walking in at gutter Windowes;
but all abuſes were honeſtly reformed.
Madame Iſabella, delighting in the company of her affected Friend, named Lionello, and ſhe being likewiſe beloued by Signior Lambertuccio: At the ſame time as ſhee had entertained Lionello, ſhee was alſo viſited by Lambertuccio. Her Husband returning home in the very inſtant; ſhee cauſed Lambertuccio to run forth with a drawne ſword in his hand, and (by that meanes) made an excuſe ſufficient for Lionello to her husband.
The Sixth Nouell.
Wherein is manifeſtly diſcerned, that if Loue be driuen to a narrow ſtraite in any of his attempts; yet hee can accompliſh his purpoſe by ſome other ſupply.
WOndrouſly pleaſing to all the company, was the reported Nouell
of Madame Fiammetta, euery one applauding the Womans
wiſedome, and that ſhe had done no more, then as the
iealous foole her husband iuſtly deſerued. But ſhee hauing ended, the
King gaue order vnto Madame Pampinea, that now it was her turne to
ſpeake, whereupon, thus ſhe began. There are no meane ſtore of people
who ſay (though very falſe and fooliſhly,) that Loue maketh many to
be out of their wits, and that ſuch as fall in Loue, do vtterly looſe their
vnderſtanding. To mee this appeareth a very ydle opinion, as already
hath beene approued by the related diſcourſes, and ſhall alſo bee made
manifeſt by another of mine owne.
In our City of Florence, famous for ſome good, though as many bad
qualities, there dwelt (not long ſince) a Gentlewoman, endued with
choice beauty and admirable perfections, being wife to Signior Beltramo,
a very valiant Knight, and a man of great poſſeſſions. As oftentimes
it commeth to paſſe, that a man cannot alwayes feede on one kind
of bread, but his appetite will be longing after change: ſo fared it with
this Lady, named Iſabella, ſhe being not ſatisfied with the delights of her
Husband; grew enamoured of a young Gentleman, called Lionello,
compleate of perſon and commendable qualities, albeit not of the faireſt
fortunes, yet his affection euery way ſutable to hers. And full well you
know (faire Ladies) that where the mindes irreciprocally accorded, no
dilligence wanteth for the deſires execution: ſo this amorous couple,
made many ſolemne proteſtations, vntill they ſhould bee friended by
opportunity.
It fortuned in the time of their hopefull expectation a Knight, named
Signior Lambertuccio, fell likewiſe in loue with Iſabella: but becauſe
he was ſomewhat vnſightly of perſon, and vtterly vnpleaſing in the eye,
ſhe grew regardleſſe of his frequent ſolicitings, and would not accept either
tokens, or letters. Which when hee ſaw, (being very rich and of
great power) hee ſought to compaſſe his intent by a contrary courſe,
threatning her with ſcandall and diſgrace to her reputation, and with his
aſſociates to bandie againſt her beſt friends. She knowing what manner
of man he was, and how able to abuſe any with infamous imputations,
wiſely returned him hopefull promiſes, though neuer meaning to
performe any, but onely (Lady-like) to flatter and foole him therewith.
Some few miles diſtant from Florence, Beltramo had a Caſtle of pleaſure,
and there his Lady Iſabella vſed to liue all Summer, as all other doe
the like, being ſo poſſeſſed. On a day, Beltramo being ridden from
home, and ſhe hauing ſent for Lionello, to take the aduantage of her Husbands
abſence; accordingly he went, not doubting but to winne what
he had long expected. Signior Lambertuccio on the other ſide, meeting
Beltramo riding from his Caſtle, and Iſabella now fit to enioy his company:
gallops thither with all poſſible ſpeede▪ becauſe hee would bee no
longer delayed. Scarcely was Lionello entred the Caſtle, and receiuing
directions by the waiting woman, to her Ladies Chamber: but Lambertuccio
gallopped in at the Gate, which the woman perceiuing,
ranne preſently and acquainted her Lady with the comming of Lambertuccio.
Now was ſhee the onely ſorrowfull woman of the world; for nothing
was now to bee feared, but ſtormes and tempeſts, becauſe
Lambertuccio, ſpake no other then Lightning and Thunder,
and Lionello, (being no leſſe affraide then ſhee) by her perſwaſion
crept behind the bed, where he hid himſelfe very contentedly. By this
time Lambertuccio was diſmounted from his Courſer, which he faſtened
(by the bridle) to a ring in the wall, and then the waiting woman came
to him, to guide him to her Lady and Miſtreſſe: who ſtood ready at
the ſtaires head, graced him with a very acceptable welcome, yet maruelling
much at his ſo ſodaine comming. Lady (quoth he) I met your
Husband vpon the way, which granting mine acceſſe to ſee you; I come
to claime your long delayed promiſe, the time being now ſo fauourable
for it.
Before he had vttered halfe theſe words, Beltramo, hauing forgot an
eſpeciall euidence in his Study, which was the onely occaſion of his
iourney, came gallopping backe againe into the Caſtell Court, and ſeeing
ſuch a goodly Gelding ſtand faſtened there, could not redily imagine
who was the owne thereof. The waiting woman, vpon the ſight
of her Maſters entring into the Court, came to her Lady, ſaying: My
Maſter Beltramo is returned backe, newly alighted, and (queſtionleſſe)
comming vp the ſtaires. Now was our Lady Iſabella, ten times worſe
affrighted then before, (hauing two ſeuerall amourous ſuters in her
houſe, both hoping, neither ſpeeding, yet her credite lying at the ſtake
for either) by this vnexpected returne of her Husband. Moreouer,
there was no poſſible meanes, for the concealing of Signior Lambertuccio,
becauſe his Gelding ſtood in the open Court, and therefore made
a ſhrewde preſumption againſt her, vpon the leaſt doubtfull queſtion
vrged.
Neuertheleſſe, as womens wits are alwayes beſt vpon ſudden conſtraints,
looking forth of her window, and eſpying her Husband preparing
to come vp: ſhe threw her ſelfe on her day Couch, ſpeaking thus
(earneſtly) to Lambertuccio. Sir, if euer you loued mee, and would haue
me faithfully to beleeue it, by the inſtant ſafety both of your owne honour,
and my life, doe but as I aduiſe you. Forth draw your Sword,
and, with a ſteanre countenance, threatning death and deſtruction: run
downe the ſtaires, and when you are beneath, ſay. I ſweare by my beſt
fortunes, although I miſſe of thee now heere, yet I will be ſure to finde
thee ſome where elſe. And if my Husband offer to ſtay you, or mooue
any queſtion to you: make no other anſwere, but what you formerly
ſpake in fury. Beſide, ſo ſoone as you are mounted on horſebacke,
haue no further conference with him, vpon any occaſion
whatſoeuer; to preuent all ſuſpition in him, of our future intendments.
Lambertuccio ſware many terrible oathes, to obſerue her directions in
euery part, and hauing drawne forth his Sword, graſping it naked in his
hand, and ſetting worſe lookes one the buſineſſe, then euer nature gaue
him, becauſe he had ſpent ſo much labour in vaine; he failed not in a iot
of the Ladies iniunction. Beltramo hauing commanded his horſe to
ſafe cuſtody, and meeting Lambertuccio diſcending downe the ſtaires, ſo
ſo armed, ſwearing, and moſt extreamely ſtorming, wondring extraordinarily
as his threatning words, made offer to imbrace him, and vnderſtand
the reaſon of his diſtemper. Lambertuccio repulſing him rudely,
and ſetting foote in the ſtirrup, mounted on his Gelding, and ſpake nothing
elſe but this. I ſweare by the faireſt of all my fortunes, although
I miſſe of thee heere: yet I will be ſure to find thee ſome where elſe, and
ſo he gallopped mainely away.
When Beltramo was come vp into his wines Chamber, hee found her
caſt downe vpon her Couch, weeping, full of feare, and greatly diſcomforted;
wherefore he ſaid vnto her, What is hee that Signior Lambertuccio
is ſo extreamely offended withall, and threatneth in ſuch implacable
manner? The Lady ariſing from her Couch, and going neere to the
Beds, becauſe Lionello might the better heare her; returned her Husband
this anſwere. Husband (quoth ſhe) neuer was I ſo dreadfully affrighted
till now; for, a young Gentleman, of whence, or what he is, I know not,
came running into our Caſtle for reſcue, being purſued by Signior Lambertuccio,
with a weapon ready drawne in his hand. Aſcending vp our ſtayres,
by what fortune, I know not, he found my Chamber doore ſtanding open, finding
me alſo working on my Sampler, and in wonderfull feare and trembling.
Good Madame (quoth hee) for Gods ſake helpe to ſaue my life, or elſe
I ſhall be ſlaine heere in your Chamber. Hearing his pittious cry, and compaſsionating
his deſperate caſe; I aroſe from my worke, and in my demaunding
of whence, and what he was, that durst preſume ſo boldly into my bedchamber:
preſently came vp Signior Lambertuccio alſo, in the ſame vnciuill
ſorte, as before I tolde you, ſwaggering and ſwearing; where is this traiterous
villaine? Heereupon, I ſtept (ſomewhat stoutly to my Chamber doore,
and as hee offered to enter, with a womans courage I reſiſted him, which
made him ſo much enraged againſt mee, that when hee ſaw mee to debarre
his entrance; after many terrible and vile oathes and vowes, hee ranne
downe the ſtayres againe, in ſuch like manner as you chaunced to meete
him.
Now truſt mee deare wife (ſaid Beltramo) you behaued your ſelfe
very well and worthily: for, it would haue beene a moſt notorious ſcandall
to vs, if a man ſhould bee ſlaine in your bed-chamber: and Signior
Lambertuccio carryed himſelfe moſt diſhoneſtly, to purſue any man ſo
outragiouſly, hauing taken my Caſtle as his Sanctuary. But alas wife,
what is become of the poore affrighted Gentleman? Introth Sir (quoth
ſhe) I know not, but (ſomewhere or other) heereabout hee is hidden.
Where art thou honeſt friend? ſaid plaine meaning Beltramo; Come
forth and feare not, for thine enemy is gone.
Lionello, who had heard all the fore-paſſed diſcourſe, which ſhee
had deliuered to her Husband Beitramo, came creeping forth amazedly
(as one now very fearefully affrighted indeede) from vnder the further
ſide of the bedde, and Beltramo ſaide to him, What a quarrell was
this, between thee and furious Lambertuccio? Not any at all Sir, replyed
Lionello, to my knowledge, which verily perſwadeth me; that either he
is not well in his wits, or elſe he miſtaketh me for ſome other; becauſe,
ſo ſoone as he ſaw me on the way, ſomewhat neere to this your Caſtle,
he drew forth his Sword, and ſwearing an horrible oath, ſaid. Traitor
thou art a dead man. Vpon theſe rough words, I ſtayed not to queſtion
the occaſion of mine offending him: but fled from him ſo faſt as poſſibly
I could; but confeſſe my ſelfe (indeede) ouer-bold, by preſuming
into your Ladies bed chamber, which yet (equalled with her mercie)
hath bin the onely meanes at this time, of ſauing my life.
She hath done like a good Lady, anſwered Beltramo, and I do verie
much commend her for it. But, recollect thy diſmayed ſpirite together,
for I will ſee thee ſafely ſecured hence, afterward, looke to thy
ſelfe ſo well as thou canſt. Dinner being immediately made ready, and
they hauing merrily feaſted together: he beſtowed a good Gelding on
Lionello, and rode along with him to Florence, where he left him quietly
in his owne lodging. The ſelfe-ſame Euening (according as Iſabella
had giuen enſtruction) Lionello conferred with Lambertuccio: and ſuch
an agreement paſſed betweene them, that though ſome rough ſpeeches
were noiſed abroad, to ſet the better colour on the buſineſſe; yet al matters
were ſo cleanly carried, that Beltramo neuer knew this queint deceitfull
policy of his Wife.
Lodouico diſcouered to his Mistreſſe Madame Beatrix, how amorouſly he was affected to her. She cunningly ſent Egano her Husband into his garden, in all reſpects diſguiſed like her ſelfe, while (friendly) Lodouico conferred with her in the meane while. Afterward, Lodouico pretending a laſciuious allurement of his Miſtreſſe, thereby to wrong his honest Maſter, inſted of her, beateth Egano ſoundly in the Garden.
The Seuenth Nouell.
Whereby is declared, that ſuch as keepe many honeſt ſeeming ſeruants, may ſometime finde a knaue among them, and one that proues to be ouer-ſawcy with his Maſter.
THis ſo ſodaine dexterity of wit in Iſabella, related in verie modeſt
manner by Madame Pampinea, was not onely admired
by all the company; but likewiſe paſſed with as generall approbation.
But yet Madam Philomena (whom the King had commanded
next to ſucceede) peremptorily ſayde. Worthy Ladies, if I am
not deceiued; I intend to tell you another Tale preſently; as much to
be commended as the laſt.
You are to vnderſtand then, that it is no long while ſince, when there
dwelt in Paris a Florentine Gentleman, who falling into decay of his eſtate,
by ouer-bountifull expences; vndertooke the degree of a Merchant,
and thriued ſo well by his trading, that he grew to great wealth,
hauing one onely ſonne by his wife, named Lodouico. This Sonne, partaking
ſomewhat in his Fathers former height of minde, and no way inclineable
to deale in Merchandize, had no meaning to be a Shop-man,
and therefore accompanied the Gentlemen of France, in ſundry ſeruices
for the King; among whom, by his ſingular good carriage and qualites,
he happened to be not meanly eſteemed. While thus he continued
in the Court, it chanced, that certaine Knights, returning from
Ieruſalem, hauing there viſited the holy Sepulcher, and comming into
company where Lodouico was: much familiar diſcourſe paſſed amongſt
them, concerning the faire women of France, England, and other parts
of the world where they had bin, and what delicate beauties they had
ſeene.
One in the company conſtantly auouched, that of all the Women by
them ſo generally obſerued, there was not any comparable to the Wife
of Egano de Galluzzi, dwelling in Bologna, and her name Madam Beatrix,
reputed to be the onely faire woman of the world. Many of the reſt
maintained as much, hauing bin at Bologna, and likewiſe ſeene her. Lodouico
hearing the woman to be ſo highly commended, and neuer (as
yet) feeling any thought of amorous inclination; became ſodainely
toucht with an earneſt deſire of ſeeing her, and his minde could entertaine
no other matter, but onely of trauailing thither to ſee her, yea, and
to continue there, if occaſion ſo ſerued. The reaſon for his iourney vrged
to his Father, was to viſit Ieruſalem, and the holy Sepulcher, which
with much difficulty, at length he obtained his leaue.
Being on his iourney towards Bologna, by the name of Anichino, and
not of Lodouico, and being there arriued; vpon the day following, and
hauing vnderſtood the place of her abiding: it was his good happe, to
ſee the Lady at her Window; ſhe appearing in his eye farre more faire,
then all reports had made her to be. Heereupon, his affection became
ſo enflamed to her, as he vowed, neuer to depart from Bologna, vntill he
had obtained her loue. And deuiſing by what meanes he might effect
his hopes, he grew perſwaded (ſetting all other attempts aſide) that if he
could be entertained into her Husbands ſeruice, and vndergo ſome buſineſſe
in the houſe, time might tutor him to obtaine his deſire. Hauing
giuen his attendants ſufficient allowance, to ſpare his company, and take
no knowledge of him, ſelling his Horſes alſo, and other notices which
might diſcouer him: he grew into acquaintance with the Hoſte of the
houſe where he lay, reuealing an earneſt deſire in himſelfe, to ſerue ſom
Lord or worthy Gentleman, if any were willing to giue him entertainment.
Now beleeue me Sir (anſwered the Hoſte) you ſeeme worthy to haue a
good ſeruice indeede, and I know a Noble Gentleman of this Cittie, who is named
Egano: he will (without all queſtion) accept your offer, for hee keepeth
many men of verie good deſeruing, and you ſhall haue my furtherance therein
ſo much as may be. As he promiſed, ſo he performed, and taking Anichino
with him vnto Egano: ſo farre he preuailed by his friendly proteſtations,
and good opinion of the young Gentleman; that Anichino
was (without more ado) accepted into Eganoes ſeruice, then which, nothing
could be more pleaſing to him. Now had he the benefit of dayly
beholding his hearts Miſtreſſe, and ſo acceptable proued his ſeruice to
Egano, that he grew very farre in loue with him: not vndertaking any
affayres whatſoeuer, without the aduice and direction of Anichino, ſo
that he repoſed his moſt eſpeciall truſt in him, as a man altogether gouerned
by him.
It fortuned vpon a day, that Egano being ridden to flye his Hawke at
the Riuer, and Anichino remaining behinde at home, Madame Beatrix,
who (as yet) had taken no notice of Anichinoes loue to her (albeit her
ſelfe, obſeruing his faire carriage and commendable qualities, was
highly pleaſed to haue ſo ſeeming a ſeruant) called him to play at the
Cheſſe with her: and Anichino, coueting nothing more then to content
her, ca
•
ried himſelfe ſo dexteriouſly in the game, that he permitted hir
ſtill to win, which was no little ioy to her. When all the Gentle-women,
and other friends there preſent, as ſpectators to behold their play,
had taken their farewell, and were departed, leauing them all alone, yet
gaming ſtill: Anichino breathing forth an intire ſigh, Madame Beatrix
looking merrily on him, ſaid. Tell me Anichino, art not thou angrie, to
ſee me win? It ſhould appeare ſo by that ſolemne ſigh. No truly Madame,
anſwered Anichino, a matter of farre greater moment, then loſſe
of infinite games at the Cheſſe, was the occaſion why I ſighed. I pray
thee (replyed the Lady) by the loue thou beareſt me, as being my Seruant
(if any loue at all remain in thee towards me) giue me a reaſon for
that harty ſigh.
When he heard himſelfe ſo ſeuerely coninred, by the loue he bare to
her, and loued none elſe in the world beſide: he gaue a farre more hartſicke
ſigh, then before. Then his Lady and Miſtreſſe entreated him ſeriouſly,
to let her know the cauſe of thoſe two deepe ſighes: whereto
Anichino thus replyed. Madam, if I ſhould tell you, I ſtand greatly in feare
of offending you: and when I haue told you, I doubt your diſcouery thereof to
ſome other. Beleeue me Anichino (quoth ſhe) therein thou neither canst, or
ſhalt offend me. Moreouer, aſſure thy ſelfe, that I will neuer diſcloſe it to any
other, except I may do it with thy conſent. Madame (ſaide hee) ſeeing you
haue proteſted ſuch a ſolemne promiſe to mee, I will reueale no meane ſecret
vnto you.
So, with teares ſtanding in his eyes, he told her what he was; where
he heard the firſt report of her ſingular perfections, and inſtantly becam
enamored of her, as the maine motiue of his entring into her ſeruice.
Then, moſt humbly he entreated her, that if it might agree with her
good liking, ſhe would be pleaſed to commiſſerate his caſe, and grace
him with her priuate fauours. Or, if ſhee might not be ſo mercifull to
him; that yet ſhe would vouchſafe, to let him liue in the lowly condition
as he did, and thinke it a thankefull duty in him, onely to loue her.
O ſingular ſweetneſſe, naturally liuing in faire feminine blood! How
iuſtly art thou worthy of praiſe in the like occaſions? Thou couldſt neuer
be wonne by ſighes and teares; but hearty imprecations haue alwayes
preuailed with thee, making thee apt and eaſie to amorous deſires.
If I had praiſes anſwerable to thy great and glorious deſeruings,
my voice ſhould neuer faint, nor my pen waxe weary, in the due and
obſequious performance of them.
Madam Beatrix, well obſeruing Anichino when he ſpake, and giuing
credit to his ſo ſolemne proteſtations; they were ſo powerfull in preuailing
with her, that her ſenſes (in the ſame manner) were enchanted; and
ſighes flew as violently from her, as before he had vented them: which
ſtormy tempeſt being a little ouer-blowne, thus ſhe ſpake. Anichino, my
hearts deere affected Friend, liue in hope, for I tell thee truly, neuer could
gifts, promiſes, nor any Courtings vſed to me by Lords, Knights, Gentlemen,
or other (although I haue bin ſolicited by many) winne the leſt grace
or fauour at my hand, no, nor moue me to any affection. But thou, in a minute
of time (compared with their long and tedious ſuing) haſt expreſſed
ſuch a ſoueraigne potency in thy ſweet words, that thou haſt mad
•
me more
thine, then mine owne: and beleeue it vnfeinedly, I hold thee to be worthy
of my loue. Wherefore, with this kiſſe I freely giue it thee, and make thee a
further promiſe, that before this night ſhall be fully paſt, thou ſhalt in better
manner perceiue it. Aduenture into my Chamber about the houre of
midnight, I will leaue the doore open: thou knoweſt on which ſide of the
bed I vſe to reſt, come thither and feare not: if I ſleep, the leaſt gentle touch
of thy hand will wake me, and then thou ſhalt ſee how much I loue thee. So,
with a kinde kiſſe or two, the bargaine was concluded, ſhe licenſing his
departure for that time, and he ſtaying in hope of his hearts happineſſe,
till when, he thought euery houre a yeare.
In the meane while; Egano returned home from Hawking, and ſo
ſoone as he had ſupt (being very weary) he went to bed, and his Ladie
likewiſe with him, leauing her Chamber doore open, according as ſhe
had promiſed. At the houre appointed, Anichino came, finding the
doore but eaſily put too, which (being entred) ſoftly he cloſed againe,
in the ſame manner as he found it. Going to the beds ſide where the
Lady lay, and gently touching her breſt with his hand, he found her to
be awake, and perceiuing he was come according vnto promiſe, ſhee
caught his hand faſt with hers, and held him very ſtrongly. Then, turning
(as ſhe could) towards Egano, ſhe made ſuch meanes, as hee awaked,
whereupon ſhe ſpake vnto him as followeth.
Sir, yeſter night I would haue had a fewe ſpeeches with you: but, in regard
of your wearineſſe and early going to bed, I could not haue any opportunity.
Now, this time and place being most conuenient, I deſire to bee reſolued
by you: Among all the men retained into your ſeruice; which of them
you do thinke to be the best, moſt loyall, and worthieſt to enioy your loue? Egano
anſwered thus: Wife, why ſhould you moue ſuch a queſtion to me? Do
not you know, that I neuer had any ſeruant heeretofore, or euer ſhall haue
heereafter, in whom I repoſed the like truſt as I haue done, and do in Anichino?
But to what end is this motion of yours? I will tell your Sir (quoth
ſhe) and then be Iudge your ſelf, whether I haue reaſon to moue this queſtion,
or no. Mine opinion euery way equalled yours, concerning Anichino, &
that he was more iuſt and faithfull to you, then any could be amongeſt all
the rest: But Husband, like as where the water runneth ſtilleſt, the Foord
is deepeſt, euen ſo, his ſmooth lookes haue beguiled both you and me. For,
no longer agoe, then this verie day, no ſooner were you ridden foorth on
Hauking, but he (belike purpoſely) tarrying at home, watching ſuch a leyſure
as beſt fitted his intent: was not aſhamed to ſolicite mee, both to abuſe
your bed, and mine owne ſpotleſſe honor.
Moreouer, he proſecuted his impious purpoſe with ſuch alluring perſwaſions:
that being a weake woman, and not willing to endure ouer many Amorous
proofes (onely to acquaint you with his most ſawcie immodestie,
and to reuenge your ſelfe vppon him as beſt you may; your ſelfe beeing beſt
able to pronounce him guiltie) I made him promiſe, to meete him in our
Garden, preſently after midde-night, and to finde mee ſitting vnder the
Pine-Tree; nener meaning (as I am vertuous) to be there. But, that you
may know the deceite and falſhoode of your Seruant, I would hane you to
put on my Night-gowne, my head Attire, and Chinne-cloath, and ſitting
but a ſhort vvhile there vnderneath the Pine-Tree: ſuch is his inſatiate
deſire, as he will not faile to come, and then you may proceede, as you finde
occaſion.
When Egano heard theſe Words, ſodainely hee ſtarted out of Bed,
ſaying. Doe I foſter ſuch a Snake in mine owne boſome? Gramercie
Wife for this politicke promiſe of thine, and beleeue mee, I meane
to follow it effectually. So, on he put his Ladies Night-gown, her formall
head Attire and Chin-cloth, going preſently downe into the Garden,
to expect Anichinoes comming to the Pine-Tree. But before the
matter grew to this iſſue, let me demand of you faire Ladies, in what a
lamentable condition (as you may imagine) was poore Anichino; to bee
ſo ſtrongly detained by her, heare all his amorous ſuite diſcouered, and
likely to draw very heauy afflictions on him? Vndoubredly, he looked
for immediate apprehenſion by Egano, impriſonment and publike puniſhment
for his ſo malapert preſumption: and had it proued ſo, ſhe had
much renowned her ſelfe, and dealt with him but as he had iuſtlie deſerued.
But frailtie in our feminine ſex is too much preualent, and makes vs
wander from vertuous courſes, when we are wel onward in the way to
them. Madam Beatrix, whatſoeuer paſſed betweene her and Anichino, I
know not, but, either to continue this new begunne league for further
time, or, to be reuenged on her husbands ſimplicity, in ouer-raſhlie giuing
credit to ſo ſmooth a ly; this was her aduiſe to him. Anichino, quoth
ſhe, Take a good Cudgell in thy hand, then go into the Garden ſo farre as
the Pine; and there, as if formerly thou hadſt ſolicited mee vnto this ſecret
meeting, only but by way of approuing my honeſtie: in my name, reuile
thy maſter ſo bitterly as thou canſt, beſtowing manie ſound blowes on him
with thy cudgel; yet vrge the ſhame ſtil (as it were) to mee, and neuer leaue
him, til thou haſt beaten him out of the garden, to teach him keepe his bed
another time. Such an apt Scholler as Anichino was in this kind, needs no
tuturing, but a word is enough to a ready Wit. To the Garden goes
he, with a good willow cudgell in his hand, and comming neere to the
Pine-tree, there he found Egano diſguiſed like to his Lady, who ariſing
from the place where he ſate, went with chearefull geſture to welcome
him; but Anichino (in rough and ſtearne manner) thus ſpake vnto him.
Wicked, ſhameleſſe, and moſt immodeſt Woman, Art thou come, according
to thine vnchaſte and laſciuious promiſe? Couldest thou ſo eaſily credite,
(though I tempted thee, to trie the vertue of thy continencie) I would offer
ſuch a damnable wrong to my worthy Maſter, that ſo deerely loues me, and
repoſeth his eſpeciall confidence in me? Thou art much deceiued in me, and
ſhalt finde, that I hate to be falſe to him.
So lifting vp the Cudgell, he gaue him therewith halfe a ſcore good
baſtinadoes, laying them on ſoundly, both on his armes and ſhoulders:
and Egano feeling the ſmart of them, durſt not ſpeake one Worde, but
fled away from him ſo faſt as hee could, Anichino ſtill following, and
multiplying many other iniurious ſpeeches againſt him, with the Epithites
of Strumpet, luſtfull and inſatiate Woman. Go thou lewde beaſt
(quoth he) most vnworthy the title of a Lady, or to be Wife vnto ſo good a
natured man, as my Mayſter is, to whom I will reueale thy moſt vngracious
inciuility to Morrow, that he may puniſh thee a little better then I haue
done.
Egano being thus well beaten for his Garden walke, got within the
doore, and ſo went vp to his Chamber againe: his Lady there demanding
of him, whether Anichino came according to his promiſe, or no?
Come? quoth Egano, Yes Wife, he came, but deerely to my coſt: for hee verily
taking me for thee, hath beaten me moſt extreamly, calling me an hundred
Whores and Strumpets, reputing thee to bee the wickedſt Woman liuing.
In good ſadneſſe Beatrix, I wondred not a little at him, that he would
giue thee any ſuch vile ſpeeches, with intent to wrong mee in mine honour.
Queſtiouleſſe, becauſe hee ſaw thee to be iouiall ſpirited, gracious and affable
towardes all men; therefore hee intended to make triall of thine honeſt
carriage. Well Sir (ſayde ſhee) twas happy that hee tempted mee with
words, and let you taſte the proofe of them by deeds: and let him thinke,
that I brooke thoſe words as diſtaſtably, as you do or can, his ill deeds. But
ſeeing he is ſo iuſt, faithfull, and loyall to you, you may lone him the better,
and reſpect him as you finde occaſion.
Whereto Egano thus replyed. Now truſt me wife, thou haſt ſaid very
well: And drawing hence the argument of his ſetled perſwaſion; that
he had the chaſteſt Woman liuing to his wife, and ſo iuſt a Seruant, as
could not be fellowed: there neuer was any further diſcouerie of this
Garden-night accident. Perhaps, Madame Beatrix and Anichino might
ſubtilly ſmile thereat in ſecret, in regard that they knew more then any
other elſe beſide did. But, as for honeſt meaning Egano, hee neuer
had ſo much as the verie leaſt miſtruſt of ill dealing, either in his
Lady, or Anichino; whom hee loued and eſteemed farre more reſpectiuely
vppon this proofe of his honeſtie towards him, then hee would
or could poſſibly haue done, without a triall ſo playne and pregnant.
Arriguccio Berlinghieri, became immeaſurably ielous of his Wife Simonida, who faſtened a thred about her great toe, for to ſerue as a ſignall, when her amorous friend ſhould come to viſite her. Arriguccio findeth the fallacie, and while he purſueth the amorous friend, ſhee cauſeth her Maide to lye in her bed againſt his returne: whom he beateth extreamly, cutting away the lockes of her haire (thinking he had doone all this violence to his wife Simonida:) and afterward fetcheth her Mother & Brethren, to ſhame her before them, and ſo be rid of her. But they finding all his ſpeeches to be vtterly falſe; and reputing him to bee a drunken iealous foole; all the blame and diſgrace falleth on himſelfe.
The Eight Nouell.
Whereby appeareth, that an Husband ought to be very well aduiſed, when he meaneth to diſcouer any wrong offered his wife; except hee him-ſelfe do raſhly run into all the ſhame and reproach.
IT ſeemed to the whole aſſembly, that Madam Beatrix, dealte
ſomewhat ſtrangely, in the manner of beguiling her husband;
and affirmed alſo, that Anichino had great cauſe of fear, when
ſhe held him ſo ſtrongly by her beds ſide, and related all his amorous
temptation. But when the King perceyued, that Madame Philomena
ſate ſilent, he turned to Madam Neiphila, willing her to ſupply the next
place; who modeſtly ſmiling, thus began.
Faire Ladies, it were an heauy burthen impoſed on me, and a matter
much ſurmounting my capacity, if I ſhould vainely imagine, to content
you with ſo pleaſing a Nouell, as thoſe haue already done, by you ſo
ſingularly reported: neuertheleſſe, I muſt diſcharge my dutie, and take
my fortune as it fals, albeit I hope to finde you mercifull.
You are to know then, that ſometime there liued in our Citie, a very
welthy Merchant, named Arriguccio Berlinghieri, who (as many Merchants
haue done) fondly imagined, to make himſelfe a Gentleman by
marriage. Which that he might the more aſſuredly do, he took to wife
a Gentlewoman, one much aboue his degree or element, ſhe being named
Simonida. Now, in regard that he delighted (as it is the vſuall life
of a Merchant) to be often abroad, and little at home, whereby ſhee
had ſmall benefit of his company; ſhee grew very forward in affection
with a young Gentleman, called Signior Roberto, who had ſolicited hir
by many amorous means, and (at length) preuailed to win her fauor.
Which fauour being once obtained; affection gaddes ſo farre beyond al
diſcretion, and makes Louers ſo heedeleſſe of their priuate conuerſations:
that either they are taken tardy in their folly, or elſe ſubiected to
ſcandalous ſuſpition.
It came to paſſe, that Arriguccio, either by rumour, or ſome other
more ſenſible apprehenſion, had receiued ſuch intelligence concerning
his Wife Simonida, as he grew into extraordinarie iealouſie of her, refraining
trauaile abroad, as formerly he was wont to doe, and ceaſſing
from his verie ordinary affayres, addicting all his care and endeauour,
onely to be watchfull of his Wife; ſo that he neuer durſt ſleepe, vntill
ſhe were by him in the bed, which was no meane molleſtation to her,
being thus curbd from her familiar meetings with Roberto. Neuertheleſſe,
hauing a long while conſulted with her wittes, to find ſome apte
meanes for conuerſing with him, being thereto alſo very earneſtlie ſtill
ſolicited by him; you ſhall heare what courſe ſhe vndertooke.
Her Chamber being on the ſtreete ſide, and ſomewhat iuttying ouer
it, ſhe obſerued the diſpoſition of her Husband, that euery night it was
long before he fell aſleepe: but beeing once falne into it, no noyſe
whatſoeuer, could eaſily wake him. This his ſolemne and ſound ſleeping,
emboldned her ſo farre, as to meete with Roberto at the ſtreete
doore, which (while her Husband ſlept) ſoftly ſhe would open to him,
and there in priuate conuerſe with him.
But, becauſe ſhee would know the certaine houre of his comming,
without the leaſt ſuſpition of any: ſhe hung a thred forth of her Chamber
Window, deſcending downe, within the compaſſe of Robertoes
reach in the ſtreet, and the other end thereof, guided from the Window
to the bed, being conueyed vnder the cloathes, and ſhee being in
bed, ſhe faſtned it about her left great Toe, wherewith Roberto was ſufficiently
acquainted, and thus enſtructed withall; that at his comming,
he ſhould plucke the thred, & if her husband was in his dead ſleep, ſhe
would let go the thred, and come downe to him: but if he ſlept not, ſhe
would hold it ſtrongly, and then his tarrying would proue but in vaine,
there could be no meeting that night.
This deuiſe was highly pleaſing both to Roberto and Simonida, being
the intelligencer of their often meeting, and many times alſo aduiſing
the contrary. But in the end, as the quainteſt cunning may faile at
one time or other; ſo it fortuned one night, that Simonida being in a
ſound ſleepe, and Arriguccio waking, becauſe his drowſie houre was
not as yet come: as he extended forth his legge in the bed, he found the
thred, which feeling in his hand, and perceiuing it was tyed to his wiues
great toe; it prooued apt tinder to kindle further Iealouſie, and now hee
ſuſpected ſome treachery indeede, and ſo much the rather becauſe the
thred guided (vnder the cloathes) from the bed to the window, and there
hanging downe into the ſtreete, as a warning to ſome further buſineſſe.
Now was Arriguccio ſo furiouſly enflamed, that hee muſt needes bee
further reſolued in this apparant doubt: and becauſe therein hee would
not be deceiued, ſoftly he cut the thred from his wiues toe, and made it
faſt about his owne; to trye what ſucceſſe would enſue thereon. It was
not long before Roberto came, and according as hee vſed to doe, hee
pluckt the thred, which Arriguccio felt, but becauſe hee had not tyed it
faſt, and Roberto pulling it ouer-hardly, it fell downe from the window
into his hand, which he vnderſtood as his leſſon, to attend her comming,
and ſo hee did. Arriguccio ſtealing ſoftly out of bed from his wife, and
taking his Sword vnder his arme, went downe to the doore, to ſee who
it was, with full intent of further reuenge. Now, albeit he was a Merchant,
yet he wanted not courage, and boldneſſe of ſpirit, and opening
the doore without any noyſe, onely as his wife was wont to doe: Roberto,
there waiting his entrance, perceiued by the doores vnfaſhionable opening,
that it was not Simonida, but her Husband, whereupon he betooke
himſelfe to flight, and Arriguccio fiercely followed him. At the
length, Roberto perceiuing that flight auayled him not, becauſe his enemy
ſtill purſued him: being armed alſo with a Sword, as Arriguccio
was; he returned backe vpon him, the one offering to offend, as the other
ſtood vpon his defence, and ſo in the darke they fought together.
Simonida awaking, euen when her Husband went foorth of the
Chamber, and finding the thred to be cut from her toe; coniectured
immediately, that her ſubtle cunning was diſcouered, and ſuppoſing
her Husband in purſuite of Roberto, preſently ſhe aroſe; and, conſidering
what was likely to enſue thereon, called her Chamber-maide (who
was not ignorant in the buſineſſe) and by perſwaſions preuailed ſo with
her, that ſhe lay downe in her place in the bed, vpon ſolemne proteſtations
and liberall promiſes, not to make her ſelfe knowne, but to ſuffer all
patiently, either blowes, or other ill vſage of her Husband, which ſhee
would recompence in ſuch bountifull ſort, as ſhe ſhould haue no occaſion
to complaine. So, putting out the watch-light, which euery night
burned in the Chamber, ſhe departed thence, and ſate downe in a cloſe
corner of the houſe, to ſee what would be the end of all this ſtirre, after
her Husbands comming home.
The fight (as you haue formerly heard) continuing betweene Roberto
and Arriguccio, the neighbours hearing of the claſhing of their Swords
in the ſtreets; aroſe out of their beds, and reproued them in very harſh
manner. In which reſpect Arriguccio, fearing to be knowne, and ignorant
alſo what his aduerſary was (no harme being as yet done on either
ſide) permitted him to depart; and extreamely full of anger, returned
backe againe to his houſe. Being come vp into his bed-chamber, Thus
he began; Where is this lewde and wicked woman? what? haſt thou put
out the light, becauſe I ſhould not finde thee? that ſhall not auayle thee,
for I can well enough finde a drab in the darke. So, groping on to the
beds ſide, and thinking hee had taken hold on his wife, he graſped the
Chamber-maide, ſo beating her with his fiſts, and ſpurning her with his
feet, that al her face was bloody & bruiſed. Next, with his knife he cut off
a great deal of her haire, giuing her the moſt villanous ſpeeches as could
be deuiſed: ſwearing, that he would make her a ſhame to all the world.
You need make no doubt, but the poore maide wept exceedingly, as
ſhe had good occaſion to doe: and albeit many times ſhe deſired mercy,
and that hee would not bee ſo cruell to her: yet notwithſtanding, her
voyce was ſo broken with crying, and his impacience ſo extreame, that
rage hindered all power of diſtinguiſhing, or knowing his wiues tongue
from a ſtrangers. Hauing thus madly beaten her, and cut the lockes off
from her head, thus he ſpake to her. Wicked woman, and no wife of mine,
be ſure I haue not done with thee yet; for, although I meane not now to beate
thee any longer: I will goe to thy brethren, and they ſhall vnderſtand thy
diſhoneſt behauiour. Then will I bring them home with me, and they perceiuing
how much thou haſt abuſed both their honour and thine owne; let
them deale with thee as they finde occaſion, for thou art no more a companion
for me. No ſooner had he vttered theſe angry words, but hee went
forth of the Chamber, bolting it faſt on the outward ſide, as meaning to
keepe her ſafely incloſed, & out of the houſe he went alone by himſelfe.
Simonida, who had heard all this tempeſtuous conflict, perceiuing
that her Husband had lockt the ſtreete doore after him, and was gone
whether he pleaſed: vnbolted the Chamber doore, lighted a waxe candle,
and went in to ſee her poore maide, whom ſhe found to be moſt pittifully
miſuſed. She comforted her as well as ſhe could, brought her
into her owne lodging Chamber, where waſhing her face and hurts in
very ſoueraigne waters, and rewarding her liberally with Arriguccioes
owne Gold; ſhe held her ſelfe to bee ſufficiently ſatisfyed. So, leauing
the maide in her lodging, and returning againe to her owne Chamber:
ſhe made vp the bed in ſuch former manner, as if no body had lodged
therein that night. Then hanging vp her Lampefreſh fild with oyle, and
clearly lighted, ſhe deckt her ſelfe in ſo decent ſort, as if ſhe had bin in no
bed all that night.
Then taking ſowing worke in her hand, either ſhirts or bands of her
Husbands; hanging the Lampe by her, and ſitting downe at the ſtayres
head, ſhe fell to worke in very ſerious manner, as if ſhee had vndertaken
ſome impoſed taske.
On the other ſide, Arriguccio had trauelled ſo farre from his houſe,
till he came at laſt to the dwelling of Simonidaes brethren: where hee
knockt ſo ſoundly, that he was quickely heard, and (almoſt is ſpeedily)
let in. Simonidaes brethren, and her mother alſo, hearing of Arriguccioes
comming thither ſo late. Roſe from their beds, and each of them
hauing a Waxe Candle lighted came preſently to him, to vnderſtand
the cauſe of this his ſo vnſeaſonable viſitation. Arriguccio, beginning at
the originall of the matter, the thred found tyed about his wiues great
toe, the fight and houſhold conflict after following: related euery circumſtance
to them. And for the better proofe of his words, he ſhewed
them the thred it ſelfe, the lockes ſuppoſed of his wiues haire, and adding
withall; that they might now diſpoſe of Simonida as themſelues
pleaſed, becauſe ſhe ſhould remaine no longer in his houſe.
The brethren to Simonida were exceedingly offended at this relation,
in regard they beleeued it for truth, and in this fury, commanded Torches
to be lighted, preparing to part thence with Arriguccio home to his
houſe, for the more ſharpe rehrehenſion of their Siſter. Which when
their mother ſaw, ſhe followed them weeping, firſt entreating one, and
then the other, not to be ouer raſh in crediting ſuch a ſlander, but rather
to conſider the truth thereof aduiſedly: becauſe the Husband might be
angry with his Wife vpon ſome other occaſion, and hauing outraged
her, made this the meanes in excuſe of himſelfe. Moreuer ſhe ſaid, that
ſhe could not chuſe but wonder greatly, how this matter ſhould thus
come to paſſe; becauſe ſhe had good knowledge of her daugher, during
the whole courſe of her education, faultleſſe and blameleſſe in euery
deg
•
ee; with many other good words of her beſide, as proceeding from
naturall affection of a mother.
Being come to the houſe of Arriguccio, entring in, and aſcending vp
the ſtayres: they heard Simonida ſweetly ſinging at her working; but
pauſing, vpon hearing their rude trampling, ſhee demaunded, who was
there. One of the angry brethren preſently anſwered: Lewde woman
as thou art, thou ſhalt know ſoone enough who is heere: Our bleſſed Lady
be with vs (quoth Simonida) and ſweet Saint Frances helpe to defend me,
who dare vſe ſuch vnſeemely ſpeeches? Starting vp and meeting them on
the ſtaire head: Kinde brethren, (ſaid ſhe) is it you? What, and my louing
mother too? For ſweet Saint Charities ſake, what may be the reaſon of your
comming hither in this manner. Shee being ſet downe againe to her
worke, ſo neatly apparrlled, without any ſigne of outrage offered her,
her face vnblemiſhed, her haire comely ordered, and differing wholly
from the former ſpeeches of her Husband: the Brethren maruelled
thereat not a little; and aſſwaging ſomewhat the impetuous torrent of
their rage, began to demaund in coole blood, (as it were) from what
ground her Husbands complaints proceeded, and threatning her
roughly, if ſhe would not confeſſe the truth intirely to them.
Ane Maria (quoth Simonida, croſſing her ſelfe) Alas deare Brethren,
I know not what you ſay, or meane, nor wherein my Husband ſhould bee offended,
or make any complaint at all of me. Arriguccio hearing this, looked
on her like a man that had loſt his Senſes: for well he remembred,
how many cruell blowes he had giuen her on the face, beſide ſcratches
of his nailes, and ſpurnes of his feet, as alſo the cutting of her haire, the
the leaſt ſhew of all which miſuſage, was not now to be ſeene. Her brethren
likewiſe briefly told her, the whole effect of her Husbands ſpeeches,
ſhewing her the thred, and in what cruell manner he ſware hee did
beate her. Simonida, turning then to her Husband, and ſeeming as confounded
with amazement, ſaid. How is this Husband? what doe I heare?
would you haue me ſuppoſed (to your owne ſhame and diſgrace) to be a bad
woman, and your ſelfe a cruell curſt man, when (on either ſide) there is no
ſuch matter? When were you this night heere in the houſe With mee? Or
when ſhould you beate mee, and I not feele nor know it. Beleeue me (ſweete
heart) all theſe are meerely miracles to me.
Now was Arriguccio ten times more mad in his minde, then before,
ſaying. Diuell, and no woman, did wee not this night goe both together to
bed? Did not I cut this thred from thy great toe, tyed it to mine, and found
the craftie compact betweene thee and thy Minnion? Did not I follow and
fight with him in the ſtreets? Came I not backe againe, and beate thee as
a Strumpet ſhould be? And are not theſe the locks of haire, which I my
ſelfe did cut from thy head?
Alas Sir (quoth ſhe) where haue you been? doe you know what you ſay?
you did not lodge in this houſe this night, neither did I ſee you all the whole
day and night, till now.
But leauing this, and come to the matter now in queſtion, becauſe I
haue no other teſtimony then mine owne words. You ſay, that you
did beate me, and cut thoſe lockes of haire from my head. Alas Sir, why
ſhould you ſlander your ſelfe? In all your life time you did neuer ſtrike
me. And to appoue the truth of my ſpeeches, doe you your ſelfe, and
all elſe heere preſent, looke on me aduiſedly, if any ſigne of blow or beating
is to be ſeene on me. Nor were it an eaſie matter for you to doe
either to ſmite, or ſo much as lay your hand (in anger) on me, it would
coſt dearer then you thinke for. And whereas you ſay, that you did
cut thoſe lockes of haire from my head; it is more then either I know, or
felt, nor are they in colour like to mine: but, becauſe my Mother and brethren
ſhall be my witneſſes therein, and whether you did it without my
knowledge; you ſhall all ſee, if they be cut, or no. So, taking off her
head attyre, ſhe diſplayed her hayre ouer her ſhoulders, which had ſuffered
no violence, neither ſeemed to bee ſo much as vnciuilly or rudely
handled.
When the mother and brethren ſaw this, they began to murmure againſt
Arriguccio, ſaying. What thinke you of this Sir? you tell vs of
ſtrange matters which you haue done, and all prouing falfe, we wonder how
you can make good the reſt. Arriguccio looked wilde, and confuſedly,
ſtriuing ſtill to maintaine his accuſation: but ſeeing euery thing to bee
flatly againſt him, he durſt not attempt to ſpeake one word. Simonida
tooke aduantage of this diſtraction in him, and turning to her brethren,
ſaide. I ſee now the marke whereat he aymeth, to make me doe what I neuer
meante: Namely, that I ſhould acquaint you with his vile qualities, and
what a wretched life I leade with him, which ſeeing hee will needes haue
me to reueale; beare with me if I doe it vpon compulſion.
Mother and Brethren, I am verily perſwaded, that thoſe accidents which
be diſcloſed to you, hath doubtleſſe (in the ſame manner) happened to him,
and you ſhall heare how. Very true it is, that this ſeeming honeſt man, to
whom (in a luckleſſe houre) you married me, ſtileth himſelfe by the name
of a Merchant, coueting to be ſo accounted and credited, as holy in outward
appearance, as a Religious Monke, and as demure in lookes, as the modeſteſt
Maide: like a notorious common drunkard, is a Tauerne hunter, where
making his luxurius matches, one while with one Whore, then againe with
another; hee cauſeth mee euery night to ſit tarrying for him, euen in the
ſame ſort as you found me: ſometimes till midnight, and otherwhiles till
broad day light in the morning.
And queſtionleſſe, being in his wounted drunken humour, hee hath lyen
with one of his ſweet Conſorts, about whoſe toe he found the thred, and finding
her as falſe to him, as he hath alwayes been to me: Did not onely beat
her, but alſo cut the haire from her head. And hauing not yet▪ recouered
his ſences, is verily perſwaded, and cannot be altered from it; but that hee
performed all this villany to me. And if you doe but aduiſedly obſerue his
countenance, he appeareth yet to be more then halfe drunke.
But whatſoeuer he hath ſaid concerning me, I make no account at all
thereof, becauſe he ſpake it in his drunkenneſſe, and as freely as I forgiue
him, euen ſo (good Mother and kinde Brethren,) let mee entreate you to do
the like.
When the Mother had heard theſe words, and confidently beleeued
her Daughter: ſhe began to torment her ſelfe with anger, ſaying. By the
faith of my body Daughter, this vnkindneſſe is not be endured, but rather
let the dogge be hanged, that his qualities may be knowne, he being vtterly
vnworthy, to haue ſo good a woman to his wife, as thou art. What could he
haue done more, if he had taken thee in the open ſtreete, and in company of
ſome wanton Gallants? In an vnfortunate houre waſt thou married to him,
baſe iealous Coxecombe as he is, and it is quite againſt ſenſe, or reaſon, that
thou ſhouldeſt be ſubiect to his fooleries. What was hee, but a Merchant of
Eale-skinnes or Orenges; bred in ſome paltry countrey village; taken from
Hogge-rubbing; clothed in Sheepes-Sattin, with Clowniſh Startops, Leather
ſtockings, and Caddies garters: His whole habite not worth three
ſhillings: And ye he muſt haue afaire Gentle Woman to his Wife, of honeſt
fame, riches and reputation; when, comparing his pedegree with hers, hee
is farre vnfit to wipe her ſhooes.
Oh my deare ſonnes, I would you had followed my counſell, and permitted
her to math in the honourable family of Count Guido, which was
much mooued, and ſeriouſly purſued. But you would needs bestow her on
this goodly Iewell; who, although ſhee is one of the choyſeſt beauties in
Florence, chaſte, honeſt and truely vertuous: Is not aſhamed at midnight,
to proclaime her for a common whore, as if we had no better knowledge
of her. But by the bleſſed mother of Saint Iohn, if you would be ruled
by mine aduiſe; our law ſhould make him dearely ſmart for it.
Alas my ſonnes, did I not tell you at home in our owne houſe, that his
words were no way likely to proue true? Haue not your eyes obſerued his
vnmannerly behauiour to your Siſter? If I were as you are, hearing what
he hath ſaid, and noting his drunken carriage beſide; I ſhould neuer giue ouer,
as long as he had any life left in him. And were I a man, as I am a
woman; none other then my ſelfe ſhould reuenge her wrongs, making him
a publike ſpectacle to all drabbing drunkards.
When the brethren had heard and obſerued all theſe occurrences;
in moſt bitter manner they railed on Arriguccio, beſtowing ſome good
baſtinadoes on him beſide, concluding thus with him in the end. Quoth
one of them, Wee will pardon this ſhamefull abuſing of our Siſter, becauſe
thou art a notoriom drunkard: but looke to it (on perill of thy life) that
we haue no more ſuch newes hereafter; for, beleeue it vnfainedly, if any
ſuch impudent rumours happen to our eares, or ſo much as a flying fame
thereof; thou ſhalt ſurely be paide for both faults together.
So home againe went they, and Arriguccio ſtood like one that had
neither life or motion, not knowing (whether what he had done) was
true, or no, or if he dreamed all this while, and ſo (without vttering any
word) he left his Wife, and went quietly to bed. Thus by her wiſdome,
ſhe did not onely preuent an imminent perill: but alſo made a free and
open paſſage, to further contentment with her amourous friend, yet
dreadleſſe of any diſtaſte or ſuſpition in her Husband.
Lydia, a Lady of great beauty, birth, and honor, being Wife to Nicoſtratus, Gouernour of Argos, falling in loue with a Gentleman, named Pyrrhus; was requeſted by him (as a true teſtimony of her vnfeigned affection) to performe three ſeuerall actions of her ſelfe. She did accompliſh them all, and imbraced and kiſſed Pyrrhus in the preſence of Nicoſtratus; by perſwading him, that whatſoeuer he ſaw, was meerely falſe.
The Ninth Nouell.
Wherein is declared, that great Lords may ſometime be deceiued by their Wiues, as well as men of meaner condition.
THe Nouell deliuered, by Madame Neiphila, ſeemed ſo pleaſing
to all the Ladies; as they could not refraine from hearty laughter,
beſide much liberality of ſpeech. Albeit the King did oftentimes
vrge ſilence, and commanded Pamphilus to follow next. So, when
attention was admitted, Pamphilus began in this order. I am of opinion,
faire Ladies, that there is not any matter, how vneaſie or doubtfull
ſoeuer it may ſeeme to be; but the man or woman that affecteth feruently,
dare boldly attempt, and effectually accompliſh. And this perſwaſion
of mine, although it hath beene ſufficiently approued, by many
of our paſſed Nouels: Yet notwithſtanding, I ſhall make it much
apparent to you, by a preſent diſcourſe of mine owne. Wherein I
haue occaſion to ſpeake of a Lady, to whom Fortune was more fauourable,
then either reaſon or iudgement, could giue direction. In
which regard, I would not aduiſe any of you, to entertaine ſo high an
imagination of minde, as to tracke her footſteps of whom I am now to
ſpeake: becauſe Fortune containeth not alwayes one and the ſame diſpoſition,
neither can all mens eyes be blinded after one manner. And ſo
proceed we to our Tale.
In Argos, a moſt ancient Citie of Achaya, much more renowned by
her precedent Kings, then wealth, or any other great matter of worth:
there liued as Lieutenant or Gouernour thereof, a Noble Lord, named
Nicoſtratus, on whom (albeit hee was well ſtept into yeares) Fortune
beſtowed in a marriage a great Lady, no leſſe bold of ſpirit, then choiſely
beautifull. Nicoſtratus, abounding in treaſure and wealthy poſſeſſions,
kept a goodly traine of Seruants, Horſes, Houndes, Hawkes, and
what elſe not, as hauing an extraordinary felicity in all kinds of game, as
ſingular exerciſes to maintaine his health.
Among his other Seruants and Followers, there was a yong Gentleman,
gracefull of perſon, excellent in ſpeech, and euery way as actiue
as no man could be more: his name Pyrrhus, highly affected of Nicoſtratus,
and more intimately truſted then all the reſt. Such ſeemed the
perfections of this Pyrrhus, that Lydia (for ſo was the Lady named) began
to affect him very earneſtly, and in ſuch ſort, as day or night ſhee
could take no reſt, but deuiſed all meanes to compaſſe her harts deſire.
Now, whether he obſerued this inclination of her towards him, or elſe
would take no notice thereof, it could not be diſcerned by any outward
apprehenſion: which moued the more impatiency in her, & droue her
hopes to diſpairing paſſions. Wherein to finde ſome comfort and eaſe,
ſhe called an ancient Gentlewoman of her Chamber, in whom ſhee repoſed
eſpeciall confidence, and thus ſhe ſpake to her.
Leſca, The good turnes and fauours thou haſt receiued from me, ſhould
make thee faithfull and obedient to me: and therefore ſet a locke vppon thy
lippes, for reuealing to any one whatſoeuer, ſuch matters as now I ſhall impart
to thee; except it be to him that I command thee. Thou perceiueſt Leſca,
how youthfull I am, apt to all ſprightly recreations, rich, and abounding
in all that a woman can wiſh to haue, in regard of Fortunes common & ordinary
fauours: yet I haue one eſpeciall cauſe of complaint: namely, the inequality
of my Mariage, my Husband being ouer-ancient for me; in which
regard, my youth finds it ſelfe too highly wronged, being defeated of thoſe
duties and delights, which Women (farre inferiour to me) are continuallie
cloyed withall, and I am vtterly depriued of. I am ſubiect to the ſame deſires
they are, and deſerue to taſte the benefit of them, in as ample manner,
as they do or can.
Hitherto I haue liued with the loſſe of time, which yet (in ſome meaſure)
may be releeued and recompenced: For, though Fortune were mine enemy
in Mariage, by ſuch a diſproportion of our conditions: yet ſhe may befriend
in another nature, and kindely redeeme the iniury done me. Wherefore Leſca,
to be as compleate in this caſe, as I am in all the reſt beſide; I haue reſolued
vpon a priuate Friend, and one more worthy then any other, Namely,
my Seruant Pyrrhus, whoſe youth carieth ſome correſpondency with mine;
and ſo conſtantly haue I ſetled my loue to him, as I am not well, but when I
thinke on him, or ſee him: and (indeede) ſhall dye, except the ſooner I may
enioy him. And therefore, if my life and well fare be reſpected by thee, let
him vnderſtand the integrity of mine affection, by ſuch good means as thou
findeſt it moſt expedient to be done: entreating him from me, that I may
haue ſome conference with him, when he ſhall thereto be ſolicited by me.
The Chamber-Gentlewoman Leſca, willingly vndertooke the Ladies
Embaſſie; and ſo ſoone as opportunity did fauor her: hauing withdrawne
Pyrrhus into an apt and commodious place, ſhee deliuered the
Meſſage to him, in the beſt manner ſhe could deuiſe. Which Pyrrhus
hearing, did not a little wonder thereat, neuer hauing noted any ſuch
matter; and therefore ſodainly conceyued, that the Lady did this onely
to try him; whereupon, ſomewhat roundly and roughly, hee returned
this anſwere. Leſca, I am not ſo ſimple, as to credite any ſuch Meſſage to
be ſent from my Lady, and therefore be better aduiſed of thy words. But admit
that it ſhould come from her, yet I cannot be perſwaded, that her ſoule
conſented to ſuch harſh Language, far differing from a forme ſo full of beuty.
And yet admit againe, that her hart and tongue herein were relatiues:
My Lord and Maſter hath ſo farre honoured mee, and ſo much beyond the
leaſt part of merite in mee: as I will rather dye, then any way offer to diſgrace
him: And therefore I charge thee, neuer more to moue mee in this
matter.
Leſca, not a iot danted at his ſtearne words, preſently ſhe ſaide. Pyrrhus,
Both in this and all other Meſſages my Lady ſhall command me, I wil
ſpeake to thee whenſoeuer ſhee pleaſeth, receiue what diſcontent thou canſt
thereby; or make preſumption of what doubts thou maiſt deuiſe. But as I
found thee a ſenſeleſſe fellow, dull, and not ſhaped to any vnderſtanding, ſo I
leaue thee: And in that anger parted from him, carrying backe the ſame
anſwer to her Lady. She no ſooner heard it, but inſtantly ſhee wiſhed
her ſelfe to be dead; and within ſome few dayes after, ſhe conferred againe
with her Chamber-woman, ſaying. Leſca, thou knoweſt well enough,
that the Oxe falleth not at the firſt blow of the Axe, neither is
the victory won, vpon a ſilly and ſhallow aduenture: Wherefore, I
thinke it conuenient, that once more thou ſhouldſt make another tryall
of him, who (in preiudice to me) ſtandeth ſo ſtrictly on his loyalty, and
chooſing ſuch an houre as ſeemeth moſt commodious, ſoundly poſſeſſe
him with my tormenting paſſions. Beſtirre thy Wittes, and tippe thy
tongue with a Womans eloquence, to effect what I ſo earneſtly deſire:
becauſe, by languiſhing in this loue-ſicke affliction, it well bee the danger
of my death, and ſome ſeuere detriment to him, to be the occaſion
of ſo great a loſſe.
Leſca, comforted her Lady, ſo much as lay in her power to doe, and
hauing ſought for Pyrrhus, whom ſhe found at good leyſure; and, in a
pleaſing humor, thus ſhe beganne. Pyrrhus, ſome few dayes ſince I tolde
thee, in what extreame Agonies thy Lady and mine was, onely in regarde
of her loue to thee: and now again
•
I come once more, to giue thee further
aſſurance thereof: Wherefore, beleeue it vnfeignedly, that if thy obſtinacie
continne ſtill, in like manner as the other day it did, expect very ſhortly
to heare the tydings of her death.
It is my part therefore, to entreat thee, to comfort her long languiſhing
deſires: but if thou perſiſt in thy harſh opinion, in ſtead of reputing thee a
wiſe and fortunate yong man, I ſhall confeſſe thee to bee an ignoraunt Aſſe.
What a glorie is it to thee, to be affected of ſo faire and worthy a Lady; beyond
all men elſe what ſoeuer? Next to this, tell me, how highly maiſt thou
confeſſe thy ſelfe beholding to Fortune, if thou but duly conſider, how ſhee
hath elected thee as ſole ſoueraigne of her hopes, which is a crowne of honour
to thy youth and a ſufficieut refuge againſt all wants and neceſsities?
Where is any to thy knowledge like thy ſelfe, that can make ſuch aduantage
of his time, as thou maiſt do, if thou wert wiſe? Where canst thou find any
one to go beyond thee in Armes, Horſes, ſumptuous garments, and Gold, as
will be heaped on thee, if Lydia may be the Lady of thy loue? Open then
thine vnderſtanding to my words, returne into thine owne ſoule, and bee
wiſe for thy ſelfe.
Remember (Pyrrhus) that Fortune preſents her ſelfe but once before any
one, with cheerefull lookes, and her lappe wide open of richest fauours,
where if choice be not quickely made, before ſhe folde it vp, and turn her
backe; let no complaint afterward be made of her, if the Fellow that had
ſo faire an offer, prooue to be miſerable, wretched, and a Begger, only thorow
his owne negligence. Beſide, what elſe hath formerly bin ſaide, there
is now no ſuch neede of loyaltie in ſeruants to their Ladies, as ſhonld be among
deare Friends and Kindred: but ſeruants ought rathee (as beſt they
may) be ſuch to their Maſters, as they are to them. Doeſt thou imagine,
that if thou hadſt a faire Wife, Mother, Daughter, or Siſter, pleaſing in
the eye of our Nicoſtratus; he would ſtand on ſuch nice tearmes of duty or
Loyaltie, as now thou doeſt to his Ladie? Thou went a verie foole to rest
ſo perſwaded. Aſſure thy ſelfe, that if entreaties and faire meanes might
not preuaile, force, and compulſion (whatſoeuer enſued thereon) woulde
winne the maſterie, Let vs then vſe them, and the commodities vnto them
belonging, as they would vs and ours. Vſe the benefit of thy Fortune, &
beware of abuſing her fauonr. She yet ſmiles on thee; but take heede leaſt
ſhe turne her backe, it will then be ouer-late to repent thy folly. And if my
Ladie die through thy diſdaine, be aſſured, that thou canſt not eſcape with
life, beſide open ſhame and diſgrace for euer.
Pyrrhus, who had often conſidered on Leſcaes firſt meſſage, concluded
with himſelfe; that if any more ſhe moued the ſame matter: hee
would returne her another kinde of anſwere, wholly yeelding to content
his Lady; prouided, that he might remaine aſſured, concerning the
intyre truth of the motion, and that it was not vrged onely to trie him,
wherefore, thus he replyed. Leſca, do not imagine mee ſo ignorant, as
not to know the certaintie of all thy former allegations, confeſsing them as
freely as thou doeſt, or canſt. But yet let mee tell thee withall, that I knowe
my Lord to be wiſe and iudicious, and hauing committed all his affaire
〈◊〉
my care and truſt: neuer blame mee to miſdoubt, leaſt my Ladie (by his
counſell and aduice) make thee the meſſenger of this motion; therby to call
my Fidelitie in queſtion.
To cleare which doubt; and for my further aſſurance of her well
〈◊〉
toward me; if ſhe wil vndertake the performance of three ſuch things
as I muſt needes require in this caſe: I am afterward her owne, in any ſeruice
ſhe can command me. The firſt of them, is; that in the preſence of my
Lord and Maſter, ſhe kill his faire Faulcon, which ſo dearly hee affecteth.
The ſecond, to ſend me a locke or tuft of his beard, being puld away vvith
her owne hand. The third and laſt, with the ſame hand alſo, to pluck out
one of his beſt and ſoundeſt feth, and ſend it mee as her loues true token.
When I finde all theſe three effectually performed, I am wholly hers, & not
before.
Theſe three ſtrict impoſitions, ſeemed to Leſca, and her Ladie likewiſe,
almoſt beyond the compaſſe of all poſſibility. Neuertheles Loue,
being a powerfull Oratour in perſwading, as alſo aduenturous euen on
the moſt difficult dangers; gaue her courage to vndertake them all: ſending
Leſca backe againe to him, with full aſſurance, of theſe more then
Herculean labours. Moreouer, her ſelfe did intend to adde a fourth
taske, in regard of his ſtrong opinion concerning the great Wiſedome
of his Lord and Maiſter. After ſhe had effected all the other three, ſhe
would not permit him to kiſſe her, but before his Lords face: which
yet ſhould be accompliſhed in ſuch ſort, as Nicoſtratus himſelfe ſhould
not beleeue it, although apparantly he ſaw it. Well, (quoth Pyrrhus)
when all theſe wonders are performed, aſſure my Ladie, that I am truelie
hers.
Within a ſhort while after, Nicoſtratus made a ſolemne Feaſtiual (according
as yearely he vſed to doe) in honour of his birth day, inuiting
many Lords and Ladies thereto. On which reioycing day, ſo ſoone as
dinner was ended, and the Tables withdrawne: Lydia came into the
great Hall. where the Feaſt was ſolemnly kept; very rich and coſtly apparrelled;
and there, in preſence of Pyrrhus, and the whole aſſemblie,
going to the Perch whereon the Faulcone ſate, wherein her Husband
tooke no little delight, and hauing vntyed her, as if ſhee meant to beare
her on her Fiſt: tooke her by the Ieſſes, and beating her againſt the wal,
killed her. Nicoſtratus beholding this, called out aloud vnto her, ſaying.
Alas Madame! What haue you done? She making him no anſwere,
but turning to the Lords and Ladies, which had dined there, ſpake in
this mander.
Ill ſhould I take reuenge on a King, that had offended me, if I had not ſo
much heart, as to wreake my ſpleene on a paltry Hawke. Vnderſtand then,
worthy Lords and Ladies, that this Faulcone hath long time robbed me of
thoſe delights, which men (in meere equitie) ought to haue with their
wiues: becauſe continually, ſo ſoone as breake of day hath appeared, my
Husband, ſtarting out of bed, makes himſelfe readie, preſently to Horſſe,
and with this Faulcon on his Fiſt, rides abroad to his recreation in the
Fields. And I, in ſuch forſaken ſort as you ſee, am left all alone in my bed,
diſcontented and deſpiſed: often vowing to my ſelfe, to bee thus reuenged
as now I am, being with-held from it by no other occaſion, but onely want
of a fit and apt time, to do it in the preſence of ſuch perſons, as might bee
iuſt Iudges of my wrongs, and as I conceiue you all to be.
The Lords and Ladies hearing theſe words, and beleeuing this deed
of hers to be done no otherwiſe, but out of her entire affection to Nicoſtratus,
according as her ſpeeches ſounded: compaſſionately turning towards
him (who was exceedingly diſpleaſed) and all ſmiling, ſaid. Now
in good ſadneſſe Sir; Madame Lydia hath done well, in acting her iuſt reuenge
vpon the Hawke, that bereft her of her Husbands kinde companie;
then which nothing is more precious to a louing wife, and a hell it is to liue
without it. And Lydia, being ſodainly withdrawne into her chamber;
with much other friendly and familiar talke, they conuerted the anger
of Nicoſtratus into mirth and ſmiling.
Pyrrhus. who had diligently obſerued the whole cariage of this buſineſſe,
ſaide to himſelfe. My Ladie hath begun well, and proceeding on
with no worſe ſucceſſe, will (no doubt) bring her loue to an happy concluſion.
As for the Lady her ſelfe, ſhe hauing thus kild the Hawke, it was
no long while after, but being in the Chamber with her husband, and
they conuerſing familiarly together: ſhe began to ieſt with him, & hee
in the like manner with her, tickling and toying each the other, till at
the length ſhe played with his beard, and now ſhe found occaſion aptly
ſeruing, to effect the ſecond taske impoſed by Pyrrhus. So, taking
faſt hold on a ſmall tuft of his beard, ſhe gaue a ſodaine ſnatch, and plucked
it away quite from his chin. Whereat Nicoſtratus beeing angerly
moued, ſhe (to appeaſe his diſtaſte) pleaſantly thus ſpake. How now my
Lord? Why do you looke ſo frowningly? What? Are you angry, for a few
looſe haires of your beard? How then ſhould I take it, when you plucke mee
by the haire of my head, and yet I am not a iot diſcontented, becauſe I know
you do it but in ieſting manner? Theſe friendly ſpeeches cut off all further
contention, and ſhe kepte charily the tuft of her Husbands beard,
which (the verie ſelfe-ſame day) ſhee ſent to Pyrrhus her hearts choſen
friend.
But now concerning the third matter to be aduentured, it droue her
to a much more ſerious conſideration, then thoſe two which ſhee had
already ſo well and exactly performed. Notwithſtanding, like a Ladie
of vnconquerable ſpirit, and (in whom) Loue enlarged his power more
and more: ſhe ſodainly conceited, what courſe was beſt to bee kept in
this caſe, forming her attempt in this manner. Vpon Nicoſtratus wayted
two young Gentlemen, as Pages of his Chamber, whoſe Fathers
had giuen them to his ſeruice, to learne the manners of honourable
Courtſhip, and thoſe qualities neceſſarily required in Gentlemen. One
of them, when Nicoſtratus ſate downe to dinner or ſupper, ſtood in Office
of his Caruer, deliuering him all the meats whereon he fed. The
other (as Taſter) attended on his Cup, and he dranke no other drinke,
but what hee brought him, and they both were highly pleaſing vnto
him.
On a day, Lydia called theſe two youths aſide; and, among ſome other
ſpeeches, which ſerued but as an induction to her intended policy;
ſhe perſwaded them, that their mouths yeelded an vnſauoury & il-pleaſing
ſmell, whereof their Lord ſeemed to take diſlike. Wherefore ſhe
aduiſed them, that at ſuch times as they attended on him in their ſeuerall
places: they ſhould (ſo much as poſſibly they could) withdraw their
heads aſide from him, becauſe their breath might not be noyous vnto
him. But withall, to haue an eſpeciall care, of not diſcloſing to any one,
what ſhe had told them; becauſe (out of meere loue) ſhe had acquainted
them therewith: which very conſtantly they beleeued, and followed
the ſame direction as ſhe had aduiſed, being loath to diſpleaſe, where
ſeruice bound them to obey. Chooſing a time fitting for her purpoſe,
when Nicoſtratus was in priuate conference with her, thus ſhe began.
Sir, you obſerue not the behauiour of your two Pages, when they wait
on you at the Table? Yes but I do wife (quoth he) how ſquemiſhly they turn
their heads aſide from me, and it hath often bin in my minde, to vnderſtand
a reaſon why they do ſo.
Seating her ſelfe by him, as if ſhee had ſome weighty matter to tell
him; ſhe proceeded in this manner. Alas my Lord, you ſhall not need to
queſtion them, becauſe I can ſufficiently reſolue you therein: which (neuertheleſſe)
I haue long concealed, becauſe I would not be offenſiue to you.
But in regard, it is now manifeſtly apparant, that others haue taſted, what
(I immagined) none but my ſelfe did, I will no longer hide it from you.
Aſſuredly Sir, there is a moſt ſtrange and vnwonted ill-ſauour, continually
iſſuing from your mouth, ſmelling moſt noyſomely, and I wonder what
ſhould be tbe occaſion. In former times, I neuer felt any ſuch foule breathing
to come from you: and you, who do daily conuerſe with ſo many worthy
perſons, ſhould ſeeke meanes to be rid of ſo great an annoyance. You ſay
verie true wife (anſwered Nicoſtratus) and I proteſt to you on my Credite,
I feele no ſuch ill ſmell, neither know what ſhould cauſe it, except I haue ſom
corrupted tooth in my mouth. Perhaps Sir (quoth ſhe) it may be ſo and
yet you feele not the ſauour which others do, yea, very offenſiuely.
So, walking with her to a Window, he opened wide his mouth, the
which nicely ſhee ſurueyed on either ſide, and, turning her head from
him, as ſeeming vnable to endure the ſauour: ſtarting, and ſhrieking out
alowd, ſhe ſaid. Santa Maria! What a ſight is this? Alas my good Lord,
How could you abide this, and for ſo long a while? Heere is a tooth on this
ſide, which (ſo farre as I can pereeiue) is not onely hollow and corrupted:
but alſo wholly putrified and rotten, and if it continue ſtill in your head, beleeue
it for a truth, that it will infect and ſpoile all the reſt neere it. I would
therefore counſell you, to let it be pluckt out, before it breede your further,
danger. I like your counſell well Lydia, replyed Nicoſtratus, and preſently
intend to follow it; Let therefore my Barber be ſent for, and, vvithout
any longer delay, he ſhall plucke it forth inſtantly.
How Sir? (quoth ſhe,) your Barber? Vppon mine Honour, there ſhall
come no Barber heere. Why
•
ir, it is ſuch a rotten Tooth, and ſtandeth
ſo fairely for my hand: that, without helpe or aduice of any Barber, let mee
alone for plucking it forth, without putting you to any paine at all. Moreouer,
let me tell you Sir, thoſe Tooth-drawers are ſo rude and cruell, in performing
ſuch Offices, as my heart cannot endure, that you ſhould come
within compaſſe of their curriſh courteſie, neither ſhall you Sir, if you will
be ruled by me. If I ſhould faile in the manner of their facilitie, yet loue &
duty hath enſtructed me, to forbeare your leaſt paining, which no vnmannerly
Barber will do.
Hauing thus ſpoken, and he well contented with her kinde offer, the
inſtruments were brought, which are vſed in ſuch occaſions, all being
commanded forth of the Chamber, but onely Leſca, who euermore
kept ſtill in her company. So, locking faſt the doore, and Nicoſtratus
being ſeated, as ſhe thought fitteſt for her purpoſe, ſhe put the Tanacles
into his mouth, catching faſt hold on one of his ſoundeſt teeth: which,
notwithſtanding his loud crying, Leſca held him ſo ſtrongly, that forth
ſhe pluckt it, and hid it, hauing another tooth readie made hot & bloody,
very much corrupted and rotten, which ſhe helde in the Tanacles,
and ſhewed to him, who was well-neere halfe dead with anguiſh. See
Sir (quoth ſhe) was this Tooth to be ſuffered in your head, and to yeeld ſo
foule a ſmell as it did? He verily beleeuing what ſhe ſaid, albeit hee had
endured extreame paine, and ſtill complained on her harſh and violent
pulling it out: reioyced yet, that he was now ridde of it, and ſhe comforting
him on the one ſide, and the anguiſh aſſwaging him on the other,
he departed forth of the Chamber.
In the mean while, by Leſca ſhe ſent the ſound tooth to Pyrrhus, who
(wondering not a little at her ſo many ſtrange attempts, which hee vrged
ſo much the rather, as thinking their performance impoſſible, and
in meere loyall duty to his Lord) ſeeing them all three to be notably effected;
he made no further doubt of her intire loue towardes him, but
ſent her aſſurance likewiſe, of his readineſſe and ſeruiceable diligence,
whenſoeuer ſhe would command him.
Now, after the paſſage of all theſe aduentures, hardly to bee vndertaken
by any other Woman: yet ſhe held them inſufficient for his ſecurity,
in the grounded perſwaſion of her loue to him, except ſhee performed
another of her owne, and according as ſhee had boldly promiſed.
Houres do now ſeeme dayes, and dayes multiplicitie of yeeres, till the
kiſſe may be giuen, and receyued in the preſence of Nicoſtratus, yet hee
himſelfe to auouch the contrary.
Madam Lydia (vpon a pretended ſickneſſe) keepeth her chamber, and
as women can hardly be exceeded in diſſimulation: ſo, ſhee wanted no
wit, to ſeeme exquiſitely cunning, in all the outwarde apparances of
ſickneſſe. One day after dinner, ſhee being viſited by Nicoſtratus, and
none attending on him but Pyrrhus onely: ſhe earneſtly entreated, that
as a mitigation, to ſome inward afflictions which ſhe felt, they would
helpe to guide her into the Garden.
Moſt gladly was her motion graunted, and Nicoſtratus gently taking
her by one arme, and Pyrrhus by the other, ſo they conducted her into
the Garden, ſeating her in a faire floury Graſſe-plot, with her backe
leaning to a Peare-tree. Hauing ſitten there an indifferent while, and
Pyrrhus, being formerly enſtructed, in the directions which ſhe had giuen
him, thus ſhee ſpake, ſome-what faintly. Pyrrhus, I haue a kinde of
longing deſire vpon a ſodaine, to taſte of theſe Peares: Wherefore, climbe
vp into the Tree, and caſt me downe one or two; which inſtantly hee did.
Being aloft in the Tree, and throwing downe ſome of the beſt and ripeſt
Peares; at length (according to his premeditated Leſſon) looking
downe, he ſaid.
Forbeare my Lord, Do you not ſee, in how weake and feeble condition
my Ladie is, being ſhaken with ſo violent a ſickneſſe? And you Madam,
how kinde and louing ſoeuer you are to my Lord, Are you ſo little carefull
of your health, being
•
ut now come forth of your ſicke Chamber, to be ruffled
and tumbled in ſuch rough manner? Though ſuch dalliances are not
amiſſe in you both; being fitten for the priuate Chamber, then an open garden,
and in the preſence of a ſeruant: yet time and place ſhould alwaies bee
reſpectiuely conſidered, for the auoiding of ill example, and better testimonie
of your owne Wiſedomes, which euer ſhould be like your ſelues. But
if ſo ſoone, and euen in the heate of a yet turbulent ſickneſſe, your equall
loue can admit theſe kiſſes and embraces: your priuate Lodginges were
much more conuenient, where no Seruants eye can ſee ſuch Wantonneſſe,
nor you be reproued of indiſcretion, for being too publique in your Familiaritie.
Madame Lydia, ſodainely ſtarting, and turning vnto her Husband,
ſayde. What doth Pyrrhus prate? Is he well in his wittes? Or is he franticke?
No Madame, replyed Pyrrhus, I am not franticke. Are you ſo fond
as to thinke that I do not ſee your folly? Nicoſtratus wondering at his
Words, preſently anſwered. Now truſt me Pyrrhus, I think thou dreamest.
No my Lord, replyed Pyrrhus, I dreame not a iot, neither do you,
or my Ladie: but if this Tree could affoord the like kindneſſe to me, as you
do to her, there would not a Peare bee le
•
t vppon it. How now Pyrrhus?
(quoth Lydia) this language goeth beyond our vnderſtanding, it ſeemeth
thou knoweſt not what thou ſaiſt. Beleeue me husband, if I were as well as
euer I haue bin, I would climb this tree, to ſee thoſe idle wonders which hee
talketh of: for, while he continueth thus aboue, it appeareth, hee can finde
no other prattle, albeit he taketh his marke amiſſe.
Heereupon, he commanded Pyrrhus to come downe, and being on
the ground: Now Pyrrhus (quoth he) tell me what thou ſaydſt, Pyrrhus,
pretending an alteration into much amazement, ſtraungely looking about
him, ſaide, I know not verie well (my Lord) what anſwere I ſhould
make you, fearing leaſt my ſight hath bin abuſed by error: for when I was
aloft in that Tree, it ſeemed manifeſtly to me: that you embraced my Lady
(though ſomewhat rudely, in regard of her perillous ſickneſſe, yet louingly)
and as youthfully as in your yonger daies, with infinite kiſſes, and wanton
daelliances, ſuch as (indeede) deſerued a far more priuate place in my poore
opinion. But in my deſcending downe, mee thought you gaue ouer that amorous
familiaritie, and I found you ſeated as I left you, Now trust mee
Pyrrhus, anſwered Nicoſtratus, Thy tongue and wit haue very ſtrangely
wandred, both from reaſon and all reall apprehenſion: becauſe we neuer ſtirred
from hence, ſince thou didſt climbe vp into the Tree, neither mooued otherwiſe,
then as now thou ſeeſt vs. Alas my Lord (ſaide Pyrrhus I humbly
craue pardon for my preſumption, in reproouing you for medling with
your owne: which ſhal make me hereafter better aduiſed, in any thing what
ſoeuer I heare or ſee.
Meruaile and amazement, encreaſed in Nicoſtratus far greater then
before, hearing him to auouch ſtill ſo conſtantly what he had
•
eene, no
contradiction being able to alter him, which made him raſhly ſweare
and ſay. I will ſee my ſelfe, whether this Peare-tree bee enchanted, or no:
and ſuch wonders to be ſeene when a man is vp in it, as thou wouldſt haue
vs to beleeue. And being mounted vp ſo hy, that they were ſafe frō his
ſodaine comming on them, Lydia had ſoone forgotten her ſicknes, and
the promiſed kiſſe coſt her aboue twenty more, beſide verie kinde and
hearty embraces, as louingly reſpected and entertained by Pyrrhus.
Which Nicoſtratus beholding aloft in the tree; cryed out to her, ſaying.
Wicked woman, What doeſt thou meane? And thou villain Pyrrhus,
Darſt thou abuſe thy Lord, who hath repoſed ſo much truſt in thee? So,
deſcending in haſte downe againe, yet crying ſo to them ſtill: Lydia
replyed, Alas my Lord, Why do you raile and raue in ſuch ſort? So, hee
found her ſeated as before, and Pyrrhus waiting with dutiful reuerence,
euen as when he climbed vp the Tree: but yet he thought his
•
ight not
deceyued, for all their demure and formall behauiour, which made
him walke vp and downe, extreamely ſuming and fretting vnto himſelfe,
and which in ſome milder manner to qualifie, Pyrrhus ſpake thus
to him.
I deny not (my good Lord) but freely confeſſe, that euen as your ſelfe, ſo
I, being aboue in the Tree, had my fight moſt falſely deluded: which is ſo
ſo apparantly confirmed by you, and in the ſame ſort, as there needeth no
doubt of both our beguiling; in one and the ſame ſuſpitious nature. In which
caſe to be the more aſſuredly reſolued,nothing can be queſtioned, but whether
your beleefe do ſo farre miſleade you, as to thinke, that my Ladie (who
hath alwayes bene moſt wiſe, loyall, and vertuous,) would ſo ſhamefullie
wrong you: yea, and to performe it before your face, wherein I dare gadge
my life to the contrary. Concerning my ſelfe, it is not fit for mee, to argue
or conteſt in mine owne commendation: you that haue euer knowne the ſincerity
of my ſeruice, are beſt able to ſpeake in my behalfe: and rather wold
I be drawne in peeces with foure wilde horſes, then hee ſuch an iniurious
ſlaue to my Lord and Maſter.
Now then, it can be no otherwiſe, but we muſt needs reſt certainely perſwaded,
that the guile and offence of this falſe appearance, was occaſioned
by thee onely. For all the world could not make me otherwiſe beleeue, but
but that I ſaw you kiſſe and moſt kindely imbrace my Lady: if your owne
eyes had not credited the like behauiour in me to her, of which ſinne, I neuer
conceiued ſo much as a thought. The Lady (on the other ſide) ſeeming
to be very angerly incenſed, ſtarting faintly vp on her feet, yet ſupporting
her ſelfe by the tree, ſaid. It appeareth Sir, that you haue entertained
a goodly opinion of me, as, if I were ſo lewde and laſciuiouſly diſpoſed,
or addicted to the very leaſt deſire of wantonneſſe: that I would bee ſo
forgetfull of mine owne honour, as to aduenture it in your ſight, and with
a ſeruant of my houſe? Oh Sir, ſuch women as are ſo familiarly affected,
need learne no wit of men in amourous matters▪ their priuate Chambers
ſhall be better truſted, then an open blabing and tell-tale Garden.
Nicostratus, who verily beleeued what they had both ſaid, and that
neither of them would aduenture ſuch familiarity before his face: would
talke no more of the matter, but rather ſtudyed of the rarity of ſuch a
miracle, not ſeene, but in the height of the tree, and changing againe vp
on the deſcent. But Lydia, containing ſtill her collourable kinde of impatience,
and angerly frowning vpon Nicoſtratus, ſtearnely ſaide. If I
may haue my will, this villanous and deceiuing tree, ſhall neuer more ſhame
me, or any other woman: and therefore Pyrrhus, runne for an Axe, and
by felling it to the ground, in an inſtant, reuenge both thy wrong and mine.
Doeſt not thou ſerue a worthy Lord? And haue not I a wiſe Husband, who,
without any conſideration, will ſuffer the eye of his vnderſtanding to be ſo
dazeled, with a fooliſh imagination beyond all poſsibility? For, although his
eyes did apprehend ſuch a folly, and it ſeemed to be a truth indeed: yet, in the
depth of ſetled iudgement, all the world ſhould not perſwade him, that it
was ſo.
Pyrrhus had quickely brought the Axe, and he wing downe the tree,
ſo ſoone as the Lady ſaw it fall; turning her ſelfe to Nicoſtratus, ſhe ſaid.
Now that I haue ſeene mine honour and honeſties enemy laid along; mine anger
is paſt, and Husband, I freely pardon you: intreating you heartily henceforward,
not to preſume or imagine, that my loue eyther is, or can bee altred
from you.
Thus the mocked and derided Nicoſtratus, returned in againe with his
Lady and Pyrrhus; where perhaps (although the Peare-tree was cut
downe) they could find as cunning meanes to ouer-reach him.
Two Citizens of Siena, the one
•
amed Tingoccio Mini, & the other Meucio di Tura, affected hoth one woman, called Monna Mita, to whom the one of them was a Goſsip. The Goſsip dyed, and appeared afterward to his companion, according as he had formerly promiſed him to doe, and tolde him what ſtrange wonders he had ſeene in the other world.
The Tenth Nouell.
Wherein ſuch men are couertly reprehended, who make no care or conſcience at all of thoſe things that ſhould preſerue them from ſinne.
NOw there remained none but the King himſelfe, laſt of all to recount
his Nouell; who, after hee heard the Ladies complaints
indifferently pacified, for the raſh felling downe of ſuch a precious
Peare-tree; thus he began-Faire Ladies, it is a caſe more then manifeſt,
that euery King, who will be accounted iuſt and vpright: ſhould firſt
of all, and rather then any other, obſerue thoſe Lawes which he himſelfe hath
made; otherwiſe he ought to be reputed as a ſeruant, worthy of puniſhment,
and no King. Into which fault and reprehenſion, I your King, ſhall well neere
be conſtrained to fall; for yeſterday I enacted a Law, vpon the forme of our
diſcourſing, with full intent, that this day I would not vſe any part of my priuiledge;
but being ſubiect (as you all are) to the ſame Law, I ſhould ſpeake of
that argument, which already you haue done.
Wherein, you haue not onely performed more then I could wiſh, vpon a ſubiect
ſo ſutable to my minde: but in euery Nouell, ſuch variety of excellent
matter, ſuch ſingular illuſtrations, and delicate eloquence hath flowne from
you all; as I am vtterly vnable to inuent any thing (notwithſtanding the moſt
curious ſearch of my braine) apt or fit for the purpoſe, to paragon the meaneſt
of them already related. And therefore ſeeing I muſt needs ſinne in the Law
eſtabliſhed by my ſelfe; I tender my ſubmiſsion, as worthy of puniſhment, or
what amends elſe you pleaſe to enioyne mee. Now, as returned to my wonted
priuiledge, I ſay, that the Nouell recounted by Madame Eliza, of the Fryar
Godfather and his Goſsip Agneſia, as alſo the ſottiſhneſſe of the Seneſe her
Husband, hath wrought in me (worthy Ladies) to ſuch effect; as, forbearing
to ſpeake any more of theſe wily prancks, which witty wiues exerciſe on their
ſimple Husbands; I am to tell you a pretty ſhort Tale; which, though there is
matter enough in it, not worthy the crediting, yet partly it will bee a pleaſing to
heare.
Sometime there liued in Sienna two popular men; the one being named
Tingoccio, Mini, and the other Meucio de Tora; Men ſimple, and of
no vnderſtanding, both of them dwelling in Porta Salaia. Theſe two men
liued in ſuch familiar conuerſation together, and expreſſed ſuch cordiall
affection each to other, as they ſeldome walked aſunder; but (as honeſt
men vſe to doe) frequented Churches and Sermons, oftentimes hearing,
both what miſeries and beatitudes were in the world to come, according
to the merits of their ſoules that were departed out of this life,
and found their equall repaiment in the other. The manifold repetition
of theſe matters, made them very earneſtly deſirous to know, by what
meanes they might haue tydings from thence, for their further confirmation.
And finding all their endeauours vtterly fruſtrated, they made
a ſolemne vow and promiſe (each to other vnder oath) that hee which
firſt dyed of them two, ſhould returne backe againe (ſo ſoone as poſſibly
he could) to the other remaining aliue, and tell him ſuch tydings as hee
deſired to heare.
After the promiſe was thus faithfully made, and they ſtill keeping
company, as they were wont to doe: It fortuned, that Tingoccio became
Goſſip to one, named Ambroſio Anſelmino, dwelling in Camporeggio,
who by his wiſe, called Monna Mita, had a ſweet and louely Sonne. Tingoccio
often reſorting thither, and conſorted with his companion Meucio;
the ſhe-Goſſip, being a woman worthy the louing, faire and comely of
her perſon: Tingoccio, notwithſtanding the Goſſipſhip betweene them,
had more then a moneths minde to his God childs Mother. Meucio alſo
fell ſicke of the ſame diſeaſe, becauſe ſhee ſeemed pleaſing in his eye,
and Tingoccio gaue her no meane commendations; yet, carefully they
concealed their loue to themſelues, but not for one & the ſame occaſion.
Becauſe Tingoccio kept it cloſely from Meucio, leſt he ſhould hold it diſgracefull
in him, to beare amourous affection to his Goſſip, and thought
it vnfitting to bee knowne. But Meucio had no ſuch meaning, for hee
knew well enough that Tingoccio loued her, and therefore conceiued in
his minde, that if he diſcouered any ſuch matter to him: He will (quoth
he) be iealous of me, and being her Goſſip (which admitteth his conference
with her when himſelfe pleaſeth; he may eaſily make her to diſtaſte
me, and therefore I muſt reſt contented as I am.
Their loue continuing on ſtill in this kinde, Tingoccio prooued ſo fortunate
in the buſineſſe, that hauing better meanes then his companion,
and more preuayling courſes, when, where, and how to Court his Miſtreſſe,
which ſeemed to forward him effectually. All which Meucio
plainely perceiued, and though it was tedious and weariſome to him,
yet hoping to finde ſome ſucceſſe at length: he would not take notice of
any thing▪ as fearing to infringe the amity betweene him and Tingoccio,
and ſo his hope to be quite ſupplanted. Thus the one triumphing in his
loues happineſſe, and the other hoping for his felicity to come; a lingering
ſickeneſſe ſeazed on Tingoccio, which brought him to ſo low a condition,
as at the length he dyed.
About ſome three or foure nights after, Meucio being faſt aſleepe in
his bed, the ghoſte of Tingoccio appeared to him, and called ſo loude, that
Meucio awaking, demanded who called him? I am thy friend Tingoccio,
replied the ghoſte, who according to my former promiſe made, am come
again in viſion to thee, to tell thee tidings out of the nether world. Meucio
was a while ſomewhat amazed; but, recollecting his more manly
ſpirits together, boldly he ſaid. My brother and friend, thou art heartily
welcome: but I thought thou hadſt beene vtterly loſt. Thoſe things (quoth
Tingoccio) are loſt, which cannot be recouered againe, and if I were loſt,
how could I then be heere with thee? Alas Tingoccio, replyed Meucio, my
meaning is not ſo: but I would be reſolued, whether thou art among the
damned ſoules, in the painefull fire of hell torments, or no? No (quoth
Tingoccio) I am not ſent thither, but for diuers ſinnes by mee committed
I am to ſuffer very great and grieuous paines. Then Meucio demaunded
particularly, the puniſhments inflicted there, for the ſeuerall ſinnes committed
heere: Wherein Tingoccio fully reſolued him. And vpon further
queſtion, what hee would haue to be done for him here, made anſwere,
That Meucio ſhould cauſe Maſſes, Prayers and Almes-deeds to
be performed for him, which (he ſaid) were very helpefull to the ſoules
abiding there, and Meucio promiſed to ſee them done.
As the ghoſt was offering to depart, Meucio remembred Tingoccioes
Goſſip Monna Mita, and rayſing himſelfe higher vpon his pillowe, ſaid.
My memorie informeth me, friend Tingoccio, of your kinde Goſsip Monna
Mita, with whom (when you remained in this life) I knew you to be very
familiar: let me intreat you then to tell me, what p
•
niſhment is inflicted
on you there, for that wanton ſinne committed heere? Oh Brother Meucio,
anſwered Tingoccio, ſo ſoone as my ſoule was landed there, one came immediately
to me, who ſeemed to know all mine offences readily by heart, and
forthwith commanded, that I ſhould depart thence into a certaine place,
where I muſt weepe for my ſinnes in very grieuous paines. There I found
more of my companions, condemned to the ſame puniſhment as I was, and
being among them, I called to minde ſome wanton dalliances, which had
paſſed betweene my Goſsip and me, and expecting therefore farre greater afflictions,
then as yet I felt (although I was in a huge fire, and exceedingly
hot) yet with conceite of feare, I quaked and trembled wondrouſly.
One of my other Conſorts being by me, and perceiuing in what an
•
xtreame
agony I was; preſently ſaid vnto me. My friend, what haſt thou
done more, then any of vs here condemned with thee, that thou
•
rembleſt
and quakeſt, being in ſo hot a fire? Oh my friend (quoth I) I am in feare
of a greater iudgement then this, for a grieuous offence by mee heretofore
committed while I liued. Then hee demaunded of mee what offence it
was, whereto thus I anſwered. It was my chance in the other world, to
be Godfather at a childs Chriſtning, and afterward I grew ſo affectionate to
the childs mother, as (indeed) I kiſſed her twice or thriſe. My companyon
laughing at me in mocking manner, replyed thus. Goe like an Aſſe as thou
art, and be no more afraid hereafter, for here is no puniſhment inflicted, in
any kinde whatſoeuer, for ſuch offences of frailty committed, eſpecially with
Goſsips, as I my ſelfe can witneſſe.
Now day drew on, and the Cockes began to crow, a dreadfull hearing
to walking ſpirits, when Tingoccio ſaid to Meucio. Farewell my
friendly companion, for I may tarry no longer with thee, and inſtantly hee
vaniſhed away. Meucio hauing heard this confeſſion of his friend, and
verily beleeuing it for a truth, that no puniſhment was to be inflicted in
the future world, for offences of frailty in this life, and chiefly with
Goſſips: began to condemne his owne folly, hauing bin a Goſſip to
many wiues, yet modeſty reſtrained him from ſuch familiar offending.
And therefore being ſorry for this groſſe ignorance, hee made a vowe
to be wiſer hereafter. And if Fryar Reynard had been acquainted with
this kind of ſhrift (as doubtleſſe he was, though his Goſſip Agneſia knew
it not) he needed no ſuch Syllogiſmes, as he put in practiſe, when he conuerted
her to his luſtfull knauery, in the compariſon of kinred by him
moued, concerning her husband, the childe and himſelfe. But, theſe are
the beſt fruits of ſuch Fryerly Confeſsions, to compaſſe the iſſue of their
inordinate appetites; yet clouded with the cloake of Religion, which
hath beene the ouerthrow of too many.
By this time the gentle blaſt of Zephirus began to blow, becauſe the
Sunne grew neere his ſetting, wherewith the King concluded his Nouell,
and none remaining more to be thus imployed: taking the Crowne
from off his owne head, he placed it on Madame Laurettaes, ſaying, Madame,
I Crowne you with your owne Crowne, as Queene of our Company.
You ſhall henceforth command as Lady and Miſtreſſe, in ſuch occaſions as
ſhall be to your liking, and for the contentment of vs all; With which
words he ſet him downe. And Madame Lauretta being now created
Queene, ſhee cauſed the Maſter of the houſhold to bee called, to whom
ſhe gaue command, that the Tables ſhould be prepared in the pleaſant
vally, but at a more conuenient houre, then formerly had beene, becauſe
they might (with better eaſe) returne backe to the Pallace. Then ſhee
tooke order likewiſe, for all ſuch other neceſſary matters, as ſhould bee
required in the time of her Regiment: and then turning her ſelfe to the
whole Company, ſhe began in this manner.
It was the Will of Dioneus yeſternight, that our diſcourſes for this day,
ſhould concerne the deceits of wiues to their Husbands. And were it not
to auoyde taxation, of a ſpleenitiue deſire to be reuenged, like the dog being
bitten, biteth againe: I could command our to morrows conference, to touch
mens treacheries towards their wiues. But becauſe I am free from any ſuch
fiery humor, let it be your generall conſideration, to ſpeake of ſuch queint beguylings,
as haue heretofore past, either of the woman to the man, the man
to the woman, or of one man to another: and I am of opinion, that they will
yeeld vs no leſſe delight, then thoſe related (this day) haue done. When ſhe
had thus ſpoken, ſhe roſe; granting them all liberty, to goe recreate themſelues
vntill Supper time.
The Ladies being thus at their owne diſpoſing, ſome of them bared
their legges and feete, to waſh them in the coole current. Others, not ſo
minded, walked on the greene graſſe, and vnder the goodly ſpreading
trees. Dioneus and Madame Fiammetta, they ſate ſinging together,
the loue-warre betweene Arcit and Palemon. And thus with diuerſity
of diſports, in choice delight and much contentment, all were imployed,
till Supper drew neere. When the houre was come, and the Tables
couered by the Ponds ſide: we need not queſtion their dyet and dainties,
infinite Birds ſweetly ſinging about them, as no muſicke in the world
could be more pleaſing; beſide calme windes, fanning their faces from
the neighbouring hilles (free from flyes, or the leaſt annoyance) made a
delicate addition to their pleaſure.
No ſooner were the Tables withdrawne, and all riſen: but they
fetcht a few turnings about the vally, becauſe the Sunne was not (as yet)
quite ſet. Then in the coole euening, according to the Queenes appointment:
in a ſoft and gentle pace, they walked homeward: deuiſing
on a thouſand occaſions, as well thoſe which the dayes diſcourſes had
yeelded, as others of their owne inuenting beſide. It was almoſt darke
night, before they arriued at the Pallace; where, with variety of choice
Wines, and abounding plenty of rare Banquetting, they out-wore the
little toile and wearineſſe, which the long walke had charged them withall.
Afterward, according to their wonted order, the Inſtruments being
brought and played on, they fell to dancing about the faire Fountaine;
Tindaro intruding (now and then) the ſound of his Bagpipe, to make the
muſicke ſeeme more melodious. But in the end, the Queene commanded
Madame Philomena to ſing; whereupon the Inſtruments being tuned
fit for the purpoſe, thus ſhe began.
The Song.
The Chorus Sung by the whole Company.
WEariſome is my life to me,
Becauſe I cannot once againe returne;
Vnto the place which made me firſt to mourne.
NOthing I know, yet feele a powerfull fire,
Burning within my breſt,
Through deepe deſire;
To be once more where firſt I felt vnreſt,
Which cannot be expreſt.
O my ſole good! O my beſt happineſſe!
Why am I thus reſtrainde?
Is there no comfort in this wretchedneſſe?
Then let me liue content, to be thus painde.
Weariſome is my life to me, &c.
I cannot tell what was that rare delight,
Which first enflamde my ſoule,
And gaue command in ſpight,
That I ſhould find no eaſe by day or night,
But ſtill liue in controule.
I ſee, I heare, and feele a kinde of bliſſe,
Yet find no forme at all:
Other in their deſire, feele bleſſedneſſe,
But I haue none, nor thinke I euer ſhall.
Weariſome is my life to me, &c.
Tell me, if I may hope in following dayes,
To haue but one poore ſight,
Of thoſe bright Sunny rayes,
Dazeling my ſence, did o'recome me quite,
Bequeath'd to wandring wayes.
If I be poaſted off, and may not proue,
To haue the ſmalleſt grace:
Or but to know, that this proceeds from loue,
Why ſhould I liue deſpiſde in euery place?
Weariſome is my life to me, &c.
Me thinkes milde fauour whiſpers in mine eare,
And bids me not deſpaire;
There will a time appeare
To quell and quite confound conſuming care,
And ioy ſurmount proud feare.
In hope that gracious time will come at length,
To cheare my long diſmay:
My ſpirits reaſſume yonr former ſtrength,
And neuer dread to ſee that ioyfull day.
Weariſome is my life to me,
Becauſe I cannot once againe returne;
Vnto the place which made me firſt to mourne.
This Song gaue occaſion to the whole Company, to imagine, that
ſome new and pleaſing apprehenſion of Loue, conſtrained Madame
Philomena to ſing in this manner. And becauſe (by the diſcourſe thereof)
it plainely appeared, that ſhee had felt more then ſhee ſaw, ſhee was ſo
much the more happy, and the like was wiſhed by all the reſt. Wherefore,
after the Song was ended; the Queene remembring, that the next
day following was Friday, turning her ſelfe graciouſly to them all, thus
ſhe ſpake.
You know noble Ladies, and you likewiſe moſt noble Gentlemen, that to
morrow is the day conſecrated to the Paſsion of our bleſſed Lord and Sauiour,
which (if you haue not forgotten it, as eaſily you cannot) we deuoutly
celebrated, Madame Neiphila being then Queene, ceaſing from all our
pleaſant diſcourſing, as we did the like on the Saturday following, ſanctifiing
the ſacred Sabboth, in due regard of it ſelfe. Wherefore, being deſirous
to imitate precedent good example, which in worthy manner ſhee began to
vs all: I hold it very decent and neceſſary, that we ſhould aſttaine to morrow,
and the day enſuing, from recounting any of our pleaſant Nouels, reducing
to our memories, what was done (as on thoſe dayes) for the ſaluation
of our ſoules. This holy and Religious motion made by the Queene,
was commendably allowed by all the aſſembly, and therefore, humbly
taking taking their leaue of her, and an indifferent part of the night
being already ſpent; ſeuerally they betooke themſelues to their Chambers.
The end of the Seauenth day.
THE EIGHT DAY.
Whereon all the Diſcourſes, paſſe vnder the Rule and Gouernment, of the Honourable Ladie LAVRETTA. And the Argument impoſed, is, Concerning ſuch Wittie deceyuings; as haue, or may be put in practiſe, by Wiues to their Husbands; Husbands to their Wiues: Or one man towards another.
The Induction.
EARELY on the Sonday Morning,
Aurora ſhewing her ſelfe bright and
louely; the Sunnes Golden beames
beganne to appeare, on the toppes of
the neere adioyning Mountaines▪ ſo,
that Hearbes, Plants, Trees, and all
things elſe, were verie euidently to be
diſcerned. The Queene and her Companie, being all
come foorth of their Chambers, and hauing walked a
vvhile abroad, in the goodly greene Meadowes, to taſte
the ſweetneſſe of the freſh and wholeſome ayrethey returned
backe againe into the Palace, becauſe it was their
dutie ſo to do.
Afterward, betweene the houres of ſeauen and eight,
they went to heare Maſſe▪ in a faire Chappell
•
eere at
hand, and thence returned to their Lodgings. When
they had dined merrily together, they fell to their wonted
ſinging and dauncing: Which beeing done, ſuch as
were ſo pleaſed (by Licenſe of the Queene firſt obtained)
went either to their reſt, or ſuch exerciſes as they tooke
moſt delight in. When midday, and the heate thereof
was well ouer-paſt, ſo that the aire ſeemed mild and temperate:
according as the Queene had commanded; they
were all ſeated againe about the Fountaine, with intent
to proſecute their former paſtime. And then Madame
Neiphila, by the charge impoſed on her, as firſt
ſpeaker for this day, beganne as
followeth.
Gulfardo made a match or wager, with the Wife of Gaſparuolo, for the obtaining of her amorous fauour, in regard of a ſumme of money firſt to be giuen her. The money hee borrowed of her Husband, and gaue it in payment to her, as in caſe of diſcharging him from her Husbands debt After his returne home from Geneway, hee told him in the preſence of his Wife, how he had payde the whole ſumme to her, with charge of deliuering it to her Husband, which ſhe confeſſed to be true, albeit greatly againſt her will.
The Firſt Nouell.
Wherein is declared, that ſuch women as will make ſale of their honeſtie, are ſometimes ouer-reached in their payment, and iustly ſerued as they ſhould be.
SEeing it is my fortune, Gracious Ladies, that I muſt giue beginning
to this dayes diſcourſing, by ſome ſuch Nouel which
I thinke expedient; as duty bindeth me, I am therewith well
contented. And becauſe the deceits of Women to men, haue beene at
large and liberally related; I will tell you a ſubtile tricke of a man to a
Woman. Not that I blame him for the deede, or thinke the deceyte
not well fitted to the woman: but I ſpeake it in a contrarie nature, as
commending the man, and condemning the woman very iuſtly, as alſo
to ſhew, how men can as well beguile thoſe crafty companions, which
leaſt beleeue any ſuch cunning in them, as they that ſtand moſt on their
artificiall skill.
Howbeit, to ſpeake more properly, the matter by me to be reported,
deſerueth not the reproachfull title of deceite, but rather of a recompence
duly returned: becauſe women ought to be chaſte and honeſt, &
to preſerue their honour as their liues, without yeelding to the contamination
thereof, for any occaſion whatſoeuer. And yet (neuertheleſſe
(in regard of our frailty) many times we prooue not ſo conſtant as
we ſhould be: yet I am of opinion, that ſhe which ſelleth her honeſtie
for money, deſerueth iuſtly to be burned. Whereas on the contrary,
ſhe that falleth into the offence, onely through intirc affection (the powerfull
lawes of Loue beeing aboue all reſiſtance) in equity meriteth
pardon, eſpecially of a Iudge not ouer-rigorous: as not long ſince wee
heard from Philoſtratus, in reuealing what hapned to Madam Phillippa
de Prato, vpon the dangerous Edict.
Vnderſtand then, my moſt worthy Auditors, that there liued ſometime
in Millaine an Almaigne Soldiour, named Gulfardo, of commendable
carriage in his perſon, and very faithfull to ſuch as he ſerued, a
matter not common among the Al
•
aignes. And becauſe he made iuſt
repayment, to euery one which lent him monies; he grew to ſuch eſpeciall
credit, and was ſo familiar with the very beſt Marchants; as (manie
times) he could not be ſo ready to borrow, as they were willing alwaies
to lend him. He thus continuing in the Cittie of Millaine, faſtened his
affection on a verie beautifull Gentlewoman, named Miſtreſſe Ambroſia,
Wife vnto a rich Merchant, who was called Signior Gaſparuolo Sagaſtraccio,
who had good knowledge of him, and reſpectiuely vſed him.
Louing this Gentlewoman with great diſcretion, without the leaſt apprehenſion
of her husband: he ſent vpon a day to entreate conference
with her, for enioying the fruition of her loue, and ſhe ſhould find him
ready to fulfill whatſoeuer ſhe pleaſed to command him, as, at any time
he would make good his promiſe.
The Gentlewoman, after diuers of theſe priuate ſolicitings, reſolutely
anſwered, that ſhe was as ready to fulfill the requeſt of Gulfardo, prouided,
that two eſpeciall conſiderations might enſue thereon. Firſt, the
faithfull concealing thereof from any perſon liuing. Next, becauſe ſhe
knew him to be rich, and ſhe had occaſion to vſe two hundred Crowns,
about buſineſſe of important conſequence: he ſhould freely beſtow ſo
many on her, and (euer after) ſhe was to be commanded by him. Gulfardo
perceiuing the couetouſneſſe of this woman, who (notwithſtanding
his doting affection) he thought to be intirely honeſt to her Huſband:
became ſo deepely offended at her vile anſwere, that his feruent
loue conuerted into as earneſt loathing her; determining conſtantlie to
deceiue her, and to make her auaritious motion, the only means wherby
to effect it.
He ſent her word, that he was willing to performe her requeſt, or any
farre greater matter for her: in which reſpect, he onely deſired for to
know, when ſhe would be pleaſed to haue him come ſee her, and to receiue
the money of him? No creature hee acquainted with his ſetled
purpoſe, but onely a deere friend and kinde companion, who alwayes
vſed to keepe him company, in the neereſt occaſions that concerned
him. The Gentlewoman, or rather moſt diſloyall wife, vppon this anſwer
ſent her, was extraordinarily iocond and contented, returning him
a ſecret Letter, wherein ſhe ſignified: that Gaſparuolo her husband, had
important affaires which called him to Geneway: but he ſhould vnderſtand
of his departure, and then (with ſafety) he might come ſee her, as
alſo his bringing of the Crownes.
In the meane while, Gulfardo hauing determined what he would do,
watched a conuenient time, when he went vnto Gaſparuolo, and ſayde:
Sir, I haue ſome buſineſſe of maine importance, and ſhall neede to vſe but
two hundred Crownes onely: I deſire you to lend me ſo many Crownes, vpon
ſuch profite as you were wont to take of mee, at other times when I haue
made vſe of you, and I ſhall not faile you at my day.
Gaſparuolo was well contented with the motion, and made no more
adoe, but counted downe the Crownes: departing thence (within few
dayes after) for Geneway, acording to his Wiues former meſſage; ſhe giuing
Gulfardo alſo intelligence of his abſence, that now (with ſafety) hee
might come ſee her, and bring the two hundred Crownes with him.
Gulfardo, taking his friend in his company, went to viſite Miſtreſſe
Ambroſia, whom he found in expectation of his arriuall, and the firſt
thing he did, he counted downe the two hundred Crownes; and deliuering
them to her in the preſence of his friend, ſaide: Miſtreſſe Ambroſia,
receiue theſe two hundred Crownes, which I deſire you to pay vnto your
Husband on my behalfe, when he is returned from Geneway. Ambroſia,
receyued the two hundred Crownes, not regarding wherefore Gulfardo
vſed theſe words: becauſe ſhee verily beleeued, that hee ſpake in
ſuch manner, becauſe his friend ſhould take no notice, of his giuing
them to her, vpon any couenant paſſed betweene them; whereuppon,
ſhe ſayde. Sir, I will pay them to my Husband for you; and cauſe him to
giue you a ſufficient diſcharge: but firſt I will count them ouer my ſelfe, to
ſee whether the ſumme be iuſt, or no. And hauing drawne them ouer vpon
the Table, the ſumme containing truly two hundred Crownes (wherewith
ſhe was moſt highly contented) ſhe lockt them ſafe vppe in her Cuppeboord,
and Gulfardoes Friend being gone (as formerly it was compacted
betweene them) ſhee came to conuerſe more familiarly with him,
hauing prouided a banquet for him. What paſſed between them afterward,
both then, and oftentimes beſide, before her Husbande returned
home, is a matter out of my element, and rather requires my ignorance
then knowledge.
When Gaſparuolo was come from Geneway, Gulfardo obſeruing a
conuenient time, when he was ſitting at the doore with his Wife; tooke
his Friend with him, and comming to Gaſparuolo, ſaid. Worthy Sir, the
two hundred Crownes vvhich you lent me, before your iourny to Geneway,
in regard they could not ſerue my turne, to compaſſe the buſineſſe for which
I borrowed them: vvithin a day or two after, in the preſence of this Gentle
man my friend, I made repayment of them to your Wife, and therefore I
pray you croſſe me out of your booke.
Gaſparuolo turning to his Wife, demanded; Whether it was ſo, or no?
She beholding the witneſſe ſtanding by, who was alſo preſent at her
receyuing them: durſt not make deniall, but thus anſwered. Indeede
Husband, I receiued two hundred Crownes of the Gentleman, and neuer
remembred, to acquaint you therewith ſince your comming home: but hereafter
I will be made no more your receiuer, except I carried a quicker memory.
Then ſaide Gaſparuolo: Signior Gulfardo, I finde you alwaies a most
honeſt Gentleman, and will be readie at any time, to doe you the like, or a
farre greater kindneſſe; depart at your pleaſure, and feare not the croſsing
of my Booke. So Gulfardo went away merily contented, and Ambroſia
was ſerued as ſhe iuſtly merited; ſhe paying the price of her owne leudneſſe
to her Husband, which ſhe had a more couetous intent to keepe,
queſtionleſſe, not caring how many like luſtfull matches ſhee coulde
make, to be ſo liberally rewarded, if this had ſucceeded to her minde:
whereas he ſhewed himſelfe wiſe and diſcreete, in paying nothing
for his pleaſure, and requiting a couetous
queane in her
kinde.
A luſtie youthfull Prieſt of Varlungo, fell in loue with a pretty woman, named Monna Belcolore. To compaſſe his amorous deſire, hee lefte his Cloake (as a pledge of further payment) with her. By a ſubtile ſleight afterward, he made meanes to borrow a Morter of her, which when hee ſent home againe in the preſence of her Husband; he demaunded to haue his Cloake ſent him, as hauing left it in pawne for the Morter. To pacifie her Husband, offended that ſhee did not lend the Prieſt the Morter without a pawne: ſhe ſent him backe his Cloake againe, albeit greatly againſt her will.
The Second Nouell.
Approuing, that no promiſe is to be kept with ſuch Women as will make ſale of their honeſty for coyne. A warning alſo for men, not to ſuffer Prieſts to be ouer familiar with their wiues.
BOth the Gentlemen and Ladies gaue equall commendations,
of Gulfardoes queint beguiling the Millaine Gentle-woman
Ambroſia, and wiſhing all other (of her minde) might alwaies
be ſo ſerued. Then the Queene, ſmiling on Pamphilus, commaunded
him to follow next: whereupon, thus he began.
I can tell you (faire Ladies) a ſhort Nouell, againſt ſuch as are continually
offenſiue to vs, yet we being no way able to offend him; at leaſt, in the
ſame maner as they do iniurie vs. And for your better vnderſtanding what
and who they be, they are our luſty Prieſts, who aduance their Standard,
and make their publike predications againſt our wiues, winning ſuch ad
•
antage
ouer them, that they can pardon them both of the ſinne and punniſhment,
whenſoeuer they are once ſubiected vnto theyr perſwaſions,
euen as if they brought the Soldane bound and captiued, from Alexandria
to Auignon. Which imperious power, we (poore ſoules) cannot exerciſe on
them, conſidering, we haue neither heart nor courage, to do our deuoire in
iuſt reuenge on their Mothers, Siſters, Daughters, and Friends, with the
like ſpirit as they riſe in armes againſt our wiues. And therefore, I meane
to tell you a tale of a Country mans wife, more to make you laugh at the concluſion
thereof; then for any ſingularity of words or matter: yet this benefite
you may gaine thereby, of an apparant proofe, that ſuch Sinamon, amorous
and perſwading Prieſts, are not alwayes to be credited on their words
or promiſes.
Let me then tell you, that at Varlungo, which you know to bee not
farre diſtant hence, there dwelt an youthfull Prieſt, luſtie, gallant, and
proper of perſon (eſpecially for Womens ſeruice) commonly called by
the name of ſweet Sir Simon. Now, albeit he was a man of ſlender reading,
yet notwithſtanding, he had ſtore of Latine ſentences by heart;
ſome true, but twice ſo many maimed and falſe, Saint-like ſhewes, holy
ſpeeches, and ghoſtly admonitions, which hee would preach vnder an
Oake in the fields, when he had congregated his Pariſhioners together.
When women lay in childe-bed, hee was their daily comfortable viſitant,
and would man them from their houſes, when they had any occaſion
to walke abroad: carrying alwaies a bottle of holy water about
him, wherewith he would ſprinkle them by the way, peeces of halowed
Candles, and Chriſome Cakes, which pleaſed women extraordinarily,
and all the Country affoorded not ſuch another frolicke Prieſt, as
this our nimble and actiue ſweet Sir Simon.
Among many other of his feminine Pariſhioners, all of them being
hanſome and comely Women: yet there was one more pleaſing in his
wanton eye, then any of the reſt, named Monna Belcolore, and wife to
a plaine mecanicke man, called Bentiuegna del Mazzo And, to ſpeake
vprightly, few Countrey Villages yeelded a Woman, more freſh and
louely of complexion, although not admirable for beauty, yet ſweete
Sir Simon thoght her a Saint, and faine would be offering at her ſhrine.
Diuers prety pleaſing qualities ſhe had, as ſounding the Cymball, playing
artificially on the Timbrill, and ſinging thereto as it had beene a
Nightingale, dancing alſo ſo dexteriouſly, as happy was the man that
could dance in her company. All which ſo enflamed ſweet Sir Simon,
that he loſt his wonted ſprightly behauiour, walked ſullen, ſad and melancholly,
as if he had melted all his mettall, becauſe hee could hardly
haue a ſight of her. But on the Sonday morning, when hee heard or
knew that ſhe was in the Church, hee would tickle it with a Kyrie and a
Sanctus, euen as if hee contended to ſhewe his ſingular skill in ſinging,
when it had beene as good to heare an Aſſe bray. Whereas on the contrary,
when ſhe came not to Church, Maſſe, and all elſe were quicklie
ſhaken vppe, as if his deuotion waited onely on her preſence. Yet
he was ſo cunning in the carriage of his amorous buſineſſe, both for her
credite and his owne; as Bentiuegna her husband could not perceiue it,
or any neighbor ſo much as ſuſpect it.
But, to compaſſe more familiar acquaintance with Belcolore, hee ſent
her ſundry gifts and preſents, day by day, as ſometime a bunch of dainty
greene Garlicke, whereof he had plenty growing in his Garden, which
he manured with his owne hands, and better then all the countrey yeelded;
otherwhiles a ſmall basket of Peaſe or Beanes, and Onyons or
Scallions, as the ſeaſon ſerued. But when he could come in place where
ſhe was; then he darted amourous wincks and glances at her, withbecks,
nods, and bluſhes, Loues priuate Ambaſſadours, which ſhee (being but
countrey-bred) ſeeming by outward appearance, not to ſee, retorted diſdainefully,
and forthwith would abſent her ſelfe, ſo that ſweet Sir Simon
laboured ſtill in vaine, and could not compaſſe what he coueted.
It came to paſſe within a while after, that on a time, (about high
noone) Sir Simon being walking abroad, chanced to meete with Bentiuegna,
driuing an Aſſe before him, laden with diuers commodities, and
demaunding of him, whither he went, Bentiuegna, thus anſwered. In
troth Sir Simon, I am going to the City, about ſome eſpeciall buſineſſe of
mine owne, and I carry theſe things to Signior Bonacorci da Gineſtreto,
becauſe he ſhould helpe me before the Iudge, when I ſhall be called in queſtion
concerning my patrimony. Sir Simon looking merily on him, ſaid. Thou
doeſt well Bentiuegna, to make a friend ſure before thou need him; goe, take
my bleſsing with thee, and returne againe with good ſucceſſe. But if thou
meet with Laguccio, or Naldino, for yet not to tell them, that they muſt
bring me my ſhooe-tyes before Sunday. Bentiuegna ſaid, hee would diſcharge
his errand, and ſo parted from him, driuing his Aſſe on towards
Florence.
Now began Sir Simon to ſhrug, and ſcratch his head, thinking this to
be a fit conuenient time, for him to goe viſite Belcolore, and to make triall
of his fortune: wherefore, ſetting aſide all other buſineſſe, he ſtayed
no where till he came to the houſe, whereinto being entred, he ſaide:
All happineſſe be to them that dwell heere. Belcolore being then aboue in
the Chamber, when ſhe heard his tongue, replyed. Sweet Sir Simon!
you are heartely welcome, whether are you walking, if the queſtion may bee
demaunded? Beleeue me dainty Ducke, anſwered Sir Simon, I am come
to ſit a while with thee, becauſe I met thy Husband going to the Citie. By
this time, Belcolore was deſcended downe the ſtayres, and hauing once
againe giuen welcome to Sir Simon, ſhe ſate downe by him, cleanſing
of Colewort ſeeds from ſuch other courſe chaffe, which her Husband
had prepared before his departure.
Sir Simon hugging her in his armes, and fetching a vehement ſigh,
ſaid. My Belcolore, how long ſhall I pine and languiſh for thy loue? How
now Sir Simon? anſwered ſhe, is this behauiour fitting for an holy man?
Holy-men Belcolore, (quoth Sir Simon) are made of the ſame matter as
others be, they haue the ſame affections, and therefore ſubiect to their infirmities.
Santa Maria, anſwered, Belcolore, Dare Prieſts doe ſuch
things as you talke of? Yes Belcolore (quoth he) and much better then other
men can, becauſe they are made for the very beſt buſineſſe, in which regard
they are reſtrained from marriage True (quoth Belcolore) but much
more from medling with other mens wiues. Touch not that Text Belcolore,
replyed Sir Simon, it is ſomewhat aboue your capacity: talke of that I
come for, namely thy loue, my Ducke, and my Doue, Sir Simon is thine, I
pray thee be mine.
Belcolore obſeruing his ſmirking behauiour, his proper perſon, pretty
talke, and queint inſinuating; felt a motion to female frailty, which yet
ſhe would withſtand ſo long as ſhe could, and not be ouer-haſty in her
yeelding. Sir Simon promiſeth her a new paire of ſhoes, garters, ribbands,
girdles, or what elſe ſhe would requeſt. Sir Simon (quoth ſhe) all
theſe things which you talke of, are fit for women: but if your loue to mee
be ſuch as you make choice of, fulfill what I will motion to you, and then
(perhaps) I ſhall tell you more. Sir Simons heate made him haſty to promiſe
whatſoeuer ſhe would deſire; whereupon, thus ſhee replyed. On
Saturday, ſaid ſhe, I muſt goe to Florence, to carry home ſuch yarne as was
ſent me to ſpinne, and to amend my ſpinning wheele: if you will lend mee
ten Florines, wherewith I know you are alwayes furniſhed, I ſhall redeeme
from the Vſurer my beſt peticote, and my wedding gowne (both well neere
loſt for lacke of repaiment) without which I cannot beſeene at Church, or in
any other good place elſe, and then afterward other matters may be accompliſhed.
Alas ſweete Belcolore anſwered Sir Simon, I neuer beare any ſuch ſum
about me, for men of our profeſsion, doe ſeldome carry any money at all: but
beleeue me on my word, before Saturday come, I will not faile to bring them
hither. Oh Sir (quoth Belcolore) you men are quicke promiſers, but ſlow
performers. Doe you thinke to vſe me, as poore Billezza was, who truſted
to as faire words, and found her ſelfe deceiued? Now Sir Simon, her example
in being made ſcandall to the world, is a ſufficient warning for me:
if you be not ſo prouided, goe and make vſe of your friend, for I am not otherwiſe
to be moued. Nay Belcolore (quoth he) I hope you will not ſerue
me ſo, but my word ſhall be of better worth with you. Conſider the conueniency
of time, wee being ſo priuately here alone: whereas at my returning
hither againe, ſome hinderance may thwart me, and the like opportunity
be neuer obtained. Sir, Sir, (ſaid ſhe) you haue heard my reſolution; if
you will fetche the Florines, doe; otherwiſe, walke about your buſineſſe, for I
am a woman of my word.
Sir Simon perceiuing, that ſhe would not truſt him vpon bare words,
nor any thing was to be done, without Saluum me fac, whereas his meaning
was Sine cuſtodia; thus anſwered. Well Belcolore, ſeeing you dare
not credit my bringing the tenne Florines, according to my promiſed day:
I will leaue you a good pawne, my very beſt Cloake, lyned quite thorough
with rich Silke, and made vp in the choyſeſt manner.
Belcolore looking on the Cloake, ſaid. How much may this Cloake bee
worth? How much? quoth Sir Simon, vpon my word Belcolore, it is of
a right fine Flanders Serdge, and not aboue eight dayes ſince, I bought it thus
(ready made) of Lotto the Fripperer, and payed for it ſixe and twenty Florines,
a pledge then ſufficient for your te
•
. Is it poſſible, ſaid ſhee, that it
ſhould coſt ſo much? Well, Sir Simon, deliuer it me firſt, I will lay it vp ſafe
for you againſt Saturday, when of you fetch it not; I will redeeme
•
ine owne
things with it, and leaue you to releaſe it yourſelfe.
The Cloake is laid vp by Belcolore, and Sir Simon ſo forward in his affection;
that (in briefe) he enioyed what hee came for; and departed afterward
in his light tripping Caſſocke, but yet thorow by La
•
ies, and no
much frequented places, ſmelling on a Noſegay, as if hee had beene at
ſome wedding in the Countrey, and went thus lightly without his
Cloake, for his better eaſe. As commonly after actions of euill, Repentance
knocketh at the doore of Conſcience, and vrgeth a guilty remembrance,
with ſome ſence of ſorrow: ſo was it now with ſweet Sir Simon,
who ſuruaying ouer all his vailes of offering Candles, the validity of his
yearely benefits, and all comming nothing neere the ſumme of (ſcarce
halfe) ſixe and twenty Florines; he began to repent his deed of darkeneſſe,
although it was acted in the day-time, and conſidered with himſelfe,
by what honeſt (yet vnſuſpected meanes) hee might recouer his
Cloake againe, before it went to the Broaker, in redemption of Belcolores
pawned apparrell, and yet to ſend her no Florines neither.
Hauing a cunning reaching wit, eſpecially in matters for his owne
aduantage, and pretending to haue a dinner at his lodging, for a few of
ſome inuited friends: he made vſe of a neighbours Boy, ſending him to
the houſe of Belcolore, with requeſt of lending him her Stone Morter, to
make Greene-ſawce in for his gueſts, becauſe hee had meate required
ſuch ſawce. Belcolore ſuſpecting no treachery, ſent him the Stone Morter
with the Peſtell, and about dinner time, when he knew Bentiuegna to
bee at home with his wife, by a ſpye which was ſet for the purpoſe; hee
called the Clearke (vſually attending on him) and ſaid. Take this Morter
and Peſtell, beare them home to Belcolore, and tell her: Sir Simon
ſends them home with thankes, they hauing ſufficiently ſerued his turne,
and deſire her likewiſe, to ſend me my Cloake, which the Boy left as a
pledge for better remembrance, and becauſe ſhe would not lend it without
a pawne.
The Clearke comming to the houſe of Belcolore, found her ſitting at
dinner with her Husband, and deliuering her the Peſtell and Morter,
performed the reſt of Sir Simons meſſage. Belcolore hearing the Cloake
demaunded, ſtept vp to make anſwere: But Bentiuegna, ſeeming (by his
lookes) to be much offended, roughly replyed. Why how now wife? Is not
Sir Simon our eſpeciall friend, and cannot he be pleaſured without a pawne?
I proteſt vpon my word, I could find in my heart to ſmite thee for it. Riſe
quickely thou wert beſt, and ſend him backe his Cloake; with this warning
hereafter, that whatſoeuer he will haue, be it your poore Aſſe, or any thing elſe
being ours, let him haue it: and tell him (Maſter Clearke) he may command it.
Belcolore roſe grumbling from the Table, and fetching the Cloake forth
of the Cheſt, which ſtood neere at hand in the ſame roome; ſhee deliuered
it to the Clearke, ſaying. Tell Sir Simon from me, and boldly ſay you
heard me ſpeake it: that I make a vow to my ſelfe, he ſhall neuer make vſe of
my Morter hereafter, to beat any more of his ſawcineſſe in, let my Husband
ſay whatſoeuer he will, I ſpeake the word, and will performe it.
Away went the Clearke home with the Cloake, and told Sir Simon
what ſhe had ſaid, whereto he replyed. If I muſt make vſe of her Morter
no more; I will not truſt her with the keeping of my Cloake, for feare it goe
to gage indeed.
Bentiuegna was a little diſpleaſed at his wiues words, becauſe hee
thought ſhe ſpake but in ieſt; albeit Belcolore was ſo angry with Sir Simon,
that ſhe would not ſpeake to him till vintage time following. But
then Sir Simon, what by ſharpe threatenings, of her ſoule to be in danger
of hell fire, continuing ſo long in hatred of a holy Prieſt, which words
did not a little terrifie her; beſides daily preſents to her, of ſweet new
Wines, roaſted Cheſſe-nuts, Figges and Almonds: all vnkindneſſe became
conuerted to former familiarity; the garments were redeemed:
he gaue her Sonnets which ſhe would ſweetly ſing to
her Cimbale, and further friendſhip increaſed
betweene her and ſweet Sir Simon.
Calandrino, Bruno, and Buffalmaco, all of them being Painters by profeſsion, trauelled to the Plaine of Mugnone, to finde the preciou
•
Stone called Helitropium. Calandrino perſwaded himſelfe to haue found it; returned home to his houſe heauily loaden with ſtones. His Wife rebuking him for his abſence, hee groweth into anger, and ſhrewdly beateth her. Afterward, when the caſe is debated among his other friends Bruno and Buffalmaco, all is found to be meere foolery.
The Third Nouell.
Iuſtly reprehending, the ſimplicity of ſuch men, as are too much addicted to credulitie, and will giue credit to euery thing they heare.
PAmphilus hauing ended his Nouell, whereat the Ladies
laughed exceedingly, ſo that very hardly they could giue
ouer: The Queene gaue charge to Madame Eliza, that
ſhee ſhould next ſucceed in order; when, being ſcarcely able to refraine
from ſmyling, thus ſhe began.
I know not (Gracious Ladies) whether I can moue you to at hearty
laughter, with a briefe Nouell of mine owne, as Pamphilus lately
did with his: yet I dare aſſure you, that it is both true and pleaſant,
and I will relate it in the beſt manner I can.
In our owne Citie, which euermore hath contained all ſorts of people,
not long ſince there dwelt, a Painter, named Calandrino, a ſimple
man; yet as much adicted to matters of nouelty, as any man whatſoeuer
could be. The moſt part of his time, he ſpent in the company of two other
Painters, the one called Bruno, and the other Buffalmaco, men of very
recreatiue ſpirits, and of indifferent good capacity, often reſorting to
the ſaid Calandrino, becauſe they tooke delight in his honeſt ſimplicity,
and pleaſant order of behauiour. At the ſame time likewiſe, there
dwelt in Florence, a yong Gentleman of ſingular diſpoſition, to euery
generous and witty conceite, as the world did not yeeld a more pleaſant
companion, he being named Maſo del Saggio, who hauing heard ſomwhat
of Calandrinos ſillineſſe: determined to ieſt with him in merry
manner, and to ſuggeſt his longing humors after Nouelties, with ſome
conceit of extraordinary nature.
He happening (on a day) to meete him in the Church of Saint
Iohn, and ſeeing him ſeriouſly buſied, in beholding the rare pictures,
and the curious carued Tabernacle, which (not long before) was
placed on the high Altar in the ſaid Church: conſidered with himſelfe,
that he had now fit place and opportunity, to effect what hee
had long time deſired. And hauing imparted his minde to a very
intimate friend, how he intended to deale with ſimple Calandrino:
they went both very neere him, where he ſate all alone, and making
ſhew as if they ſaw him not; began to conſult between themſelues,
concerning the rare properties of precious ſtones; whereof Maſo
diſcourſed as exactly, as he had beene a moſt skilfull Lapidarie; to
which conference of theirs, Calandrino lent an attentiue eare, in regard
it was matter of ſingular rarity.
Soone after, Calandrino ſtarted vp, and perceiuing by their loude
ſpeaking, that they talked of nothing which required ſecret Counſell:
he went into their company (the onely thing which Maſo deſired)
and holding on ſtill the former Argument; Calandrino would
needs requeſt to know, in what place theſe precious ſtones were to
be found, which had ſuch excellent vertues in them? Maſo made
anſwere, that the moſt of them were to be had in Berlinzona, neere
to the City of Baſcha, which was in the Territory of a Countrey,
called Bengodi, where the Vines were bound about with S
•••
cidges,
a Gooſe was ſold for a penny, and the Goſlings freely giuen in
to boote. There was alſo an high mountaine, wholly made of Parmezane,
grated Cheeſe, whereon dwelt people, who did nothing
elſe but make Mocharones and Rauiuolies, boyling them with broth
of Capons, and afterward hurled them all about, to whoſoeuer can
or will catch them. Neere to this mountaine runneth a faire Riuer,
the whole ſtreame being pure white Baſtard, none ſuch was euer
ſold for any money, and without one drop of water in it.
Now truſt me Sir, (ſaid Calandrino) that is an excellent Countrey
to dwell in: but I pray you tell me Sir, what doe they with the Capons
after they haue boyld them? The Baſchanes (quoth Maſo) eate them
all. Haue you Sir, ſaid Calandrino, at any time beene in that Countrey?
How? anſwered Maſo, doe you demaund if I haue beene there?
Yes man, aboue a thouſand times, at the leaſt. How farre Sir, I pray
you (quoth Calandrino) is that worthy Countrey, from this our City?
In troth, replyed Maſo, the miles are hardly to be numbred, for the
moſt part of them, vve trauell vvhen vve are nightly in our beddes,
and if a man dreame right; he may be there vpon a ſudden.
Surely Sir, ſaid Calandrino, it is further hence, then to Abruzzi?
Yes queſtionleſſe, replyed Maſo; but, to a vvilling minde, no trauell
ſeemeth tedious.
Calandrino well noting, that Maſo deliuered all theſe ſpeeches,
with a ſtedfaſt countenance, no ſigne of ſmyling, or any geſture to
vrge the leaſt miſlike: he gaue ſuch credit to them, as to any matter
of apparent and manifeſt truth, and vpon this aſſured confidence, he
ſaid.
Beleeue me Sir, the iourney is ouer-farre for mee to vndertake,
but if it vvere neerer; I could affoord to goe in your Company; onely
to ſee hovv they make theſe Macherones, and to fill my belly vvith
them.
But now wee are in talke Sir, I pray you pardon mee to aske, whether
any ſuch precious ſtones, as you ſpake off, are to be found in that
Countrey, or no? Yes indeed, replyed Maſo, there are two kinds of them
to be found in thoſe Territories, both being of very great vertue. One
kind, are gritty ſtones, of Settignano, and of Montiſca, by vertue of
which places, when any Mill-ſtones or Grind-ſtones are to bee made,
they knede the ſand as they vſe to doe meale, and ſo make them of what
bigneſſe they pleaſe. In which reſpect, they haue a common ſaying
there: that Nature maketh common ſtones, but Montiſca Mill-ſtones.
Such plenty are there of theſe Mill-ſtones, ſo ſlenderly here eſteemed among
vs, as Emeralds are with them, whereof they haue whole mountaines,
farre greater then our Montemorello, which ſhine moſt gloriouſly
at midnight. And how meanly ſoeuer we account of their Mill-ſtones;
yet there they drill them, and enchaſe them in Rings, which afterward
they ſend to the great Soldane, and haue whatſoeuer they will
demaund for them.
The other kinde is a most precious Stone indeede, which our beſt Lapidaries
call the Helitropium, the vertue whereof is ſo admirable;
as whoſoeuer beareth it about him, ſo long as he keepeth it, it is impoſsible
for any eye to diſcerne him, becauſe he walketh meerely inuiſible. O
Lord Sir (quoth Calandrino) thoſe ſtones are of rare vertue indeede:
but where elſe may a man finde that Helitropium? Whereto Maſo
thus anſwered: That Countrey onely doth not containe the Helitropium;
for they be many times found vpon our plaine of Mugnone.
Of what bigneſſe Sir (quoth Calandrino) is the Stone, and what coulour?
The Helitropium, anſwered Maſo, is not alwayes of one quality,
becauſe ſome are bigge, and others leſſe; but all are of one coulour,
namely blacke.
Calandrino committing all theſe things to reſpectiue memory,
and pretending to be called thence by ſome other eſpeciall affaires;
departed from Maſo, concluding reſoluedly with himſelfe, to finde
this precious ſtone, if poſſibly hee could: yet intending to doe nothing,
vntill hee had acquainted Bruno and Buffalmaco therewith,
whom he loued dearly: he went in all haſt to ſeeke them; becauſe,
(without any longer trifling the time) they three might bee the firſt
men, that ſhould find out this precious ſtone, ſpending almoſt the
whole morning, before they were all three met together. For they
were painting at the Monaſtery of the Siſters of Faenza, where they
had very ſerious imployment, and followed their buſineſſe diligently:
where hauing found them, and ſaluting them in ſuch kinde
manner, as continually he vſed to doe, thus he began.
Louing friends, if you were pleaſed to follow mine aduiſe, wee three
will quickely be the richeſt men in Florence; becauſe, by information
from a Gentleman (well deſeruing to be credited) on the Plaine of
Mugnone: there is a precious ſtone to be found, which whoſoeuer carrieth
it about him, walketh inuiſible, and is not to be ſeene by any one.
Let vs three be the firſt men to goe and finde it, before any other heare
thereof, and goe about it, and aſſure our ſelues that we ſhall finde it, for
I know it (by diſcription) ſo ſoone as I ſee it. And when wee haue it,
who can hinder vs from bearing it about vs. Then will we goe to the
Tables of our Bankers, or money Changers, which we ſee daily charged
with plenty of gold and ſiluer, where we may take ſo much as wee liſt,
for they (nor any) are able to deſcrie vs. So, (in ſhort time) ſhall wee
all be wealthy, neuer needing to drudge any more, or paint muddy
walles, as hitherto we haue done; and, as many of our poore profeſsion
are forced to doe.
Bruno and Buffalmaco hearing this, began to ſmile, and looking
merily each on other, they ſeemed to wonder thereat, and greatly
commended the counſell of Calandrino. Buffalmaco demaunding
how the ſtone was named. Now it fortuned, that Calandrino (who
had but a groſſe and blockiſh memory) had quite forgot the name
of the ſtone, and therefore ſaid. What neede haue wee of the name,
when we know, and are aſſured of the ſtones vertue? Let vs make no
more adoe, but (ſetting aſide all other buſineſſe) goe ſeeke where it is to
be found. Well my friend (anſwered Bruno) you ſay wee may finde it,
but how, and by what meanes?
There are two ſorts of them (quoth Calandrino) ſome bigge, others
ſmaller, but all carry a blacke colour: therefore (in mine opinion) let
vs gather all ſuch ſtones as are blacke, ſo ſhall we be ſure to finde it among
them, without any further loſſe of time.
Buffalmaco aud Bruno, liked and allowed the counſell of Calandrino,
which when they had (by ſeuerall commendations) giuen him
aſſurance of, Bruno ſaide. I doe not thinke it a conuenient time now,
for vs to go about ſo weighty a buſineſſe: for the Sun is yet in the higheſt
degree, and ſtriketh ſuch a heate on the plaine of Mugnone, as all
the ſtones are extreamly dryed, and the very blackeſt will nowe ſeeme
whiteſt. But in the morning, after the dew is falne, and before the
Sunne ſhineth forth, euery ſtone retaineth his true colour. Moreouer,
there be many Labourers now vvorking on the plaine, about ſuch buſineſſe
as they are ſeuerally aſsigned, who ſeeing vs in ſo ſerious a ſerch:
may imagine what we ſeeke for, & partake with vs in the ſame inquiſition,
by which meanes they may chance to ſpeed before vs, and ſo wee
may loſe both our trot and amble. Wherefore, by my conſent, if your
opinion iumpe with mine, this is an enterprize onely to be perfourmed
in an early morning, when the blacke ſtones are to be diſtinguiſht from
the white, and a Feſtiuall day were the beſt of all other, for then there
will be none to diſcouer vs.
Buffalmaco applauded the aduice of Bruno, and Calandrino did
no leſſe, concluding all together; that Sunday morning (next enſuing)
ſhould be the time, and then they all three would go ſeeke the
Stone. But Calandrino was verie earneſt with them, that they ſhold
not reueale it to any liuing body, becauſe it was tolde him as an eſpeciall
ſecret: diſcloſing further to them, what hee had heard concerning
the Countrey of Bengodi, maintaining (with ſolemn oaths
and proteſtations) that euery part thereof was true. Vppon this agreement,
they parted from Calandrino, who hardly enioyed anie
reſt at all, either by night or day, ſo greedie he was to bee poſſeſſed
of the ſtone. On the Sonday morning, hee called vp his Companions
before breake of day, and going forth at S. Galls Port, they ſtayed
not, till they came to the plaine of Mugnone, where they ſearched
all about to finde this ſtrange ſtone.
Calandrino went ſtealing before the other two, and verilie perſwaded
himſelfe, that he was borne to finde the Helitropium, and
looking on euery ſide about him, hee reiected all other Stones but
the blacke, whereof firſt he filled his boſome, and afterwards, both
his Pockets. Then he tooke off his large painting Apron, which
he faſtened with his girdle in the manner of a ſacke, and that he filled
full of ſtones likewiſe. Yet not ſo ſatisfied, he ſpred abroad his
Cloake, which being alſo full of ſtones, hee bound it vp carefully,
for feare of looſing the very leaſt of them. All which Buffalmaca
and Bruno well obſeruing (the day growing on, and hardly they
could reach home by dinner time) according as merrily they had
concluded, and pretending not to ſee Calandrino, albeit he was not
farre from them: What is become of Calandrino? ſaide Buffalmaco.
Bruno gazing ſtrangely euery where about him, as if hee were deſirous
to finde him, replyed. I ſaw him not long ſince, for then he was
hard by before vs; questionleſſe, he hath giuen vs the ſlippe, is priuilie
gone home to dinner, and making ſtarke fooles of vs, hath lefte vs to
picke vp blackè ſtones, vpon the parching plaines of Mugnone. Well
(quoth Buffalmaco) this is but the tricke of an hollow-hearted friend,
and not ſuch as he proteſted himſelfe to be, to vs. Could any but vvee
haue bin ſo ſottiſh, to credit his friuolous perſwaſions, hoping to finde any
ſtones of ſuch vertue, and here on the fruitleſſe plains of Mugnone?
No, no, none but we would haue beleeued him.
Calandrino (who was cloſe by them) hearing theſe wordes, and
ſeeing the whole manner of their wondering behauiour: became
conſtantly perſwaded, that hee had not onely founde the precious
ſtone; but alſo had ſome ſtore of them about him, by reaſon he was
ſo neere to them, and yet they could not ſee him, therefore he walked
before them. Now was his ioy beyond all compaſſe of expreſſion,
and being exceedingly proud of ſo happy an aduenture: did
not meane to ſpeake one word to them, but (heauily laden as hee
was) to ſteale home faire and ſoftly before them, which indeede he
did, leauing them to follow after, if they would. Bruno perceiuing
his intent, ſaid to Buffalmaco: What remaineth now for vs to doe?
Why ſhould not we go home, as well as hee? And reaſon too, replyed
Bruno, It is in vaine to tarry any longer heere: but I ſolemnly proteſt,
Calandrino ſhall no more make an Aſſe of me: and were I now as neere
him, as not long ſince I was, I would giue him ſuch a remembrance on
the heele with this Flint ſtone, as ſhould ſticke by him this moneth, to
teach him a leſſon for abuſing his friends.
Hee threw the ſtone, and hit him ſhrewdly on the heele therewith;
but all was one to Calandrino, whatſoeuer they ſaide, or did,
as thus they ſtill followed after him. And although the blow of the
ſtone was painfull to him; yet he mended his pace ſo wel as he was
able, in regard of beeing ouer-loaden with ſtones, and gaue them
not one word all the way, becauſe he tooke himſelfe to bee inuiſible,
and vtterly vnſeene of them. Buffalmaco taking vppe another
Flint-ſtone, which was indifferent heauie and ſharp, ſaid to Bruno.
Seeſt thou this Flint? Caſting it from him, he ſmote Calandrino iuſt
in the backe therewith, ſaying. Oh that Calandrino had bin ſo neere,
as I might haue hit him on the backe with the ſtone. And thus all the
way on the plaine of Mugnone, they did nothing elſe but pelt him
with ſtones, euen ſo farre as the Port of S. Gall, where they threwe
downe what other ſtones they had gathered, meaning not to moleſt
him any more, becauſe they had done enough already.
There they ſtept before him vnto the Port, and acquainted the
Warders with the whole matter, who laughing heartily at the ieſt,
the better to vpholde it; would ſeeme not to ſee Calandrino in his
paſſage by them, but ſuffered him to go on, ſore wearied with his
burthen, and ſweating extreamly. Without reſting himſelfe in any
place, he came home to his houſe, which was neere to the corner
of the Milles, Fortune being ſo fauourable to him in the courſe
of this mockery, that as he paſſed along the Riuers ſide, and afterward
through part of the City; he was neither met nor ſeen by any,
in regard they were all in their houſes at dinner.
Calandrino, euery minute ready to ſinke vnder his weightie burthen,
entred into his owne houſe, where (by great ill luck) his wife,
being a comely and very honeſt woman, and named Monna Triſta,
was ſtanding aloft on the ſtayres head. She being ſomewhat angry
for his ſo long abſence, and ſeeing him come in grunting and groaning,
frowningly ſaid. I thought that the diuell would neuer let thee
come home, all the whole Citie haue dined, and yet wee muſt remaine
without our dinner, When Calandrino heard this, & perceiued that
he was not inuiſible to his Wife: full of rage and wroth, hee began
to raile, ſaying. Ah thou wicked Woman, where art thou? Thou hast
vtterly vndone me: but (as I liue) I will pay thee ſoundly for it. Vp
the ſtaires he aſcended into a ſmall Parlour, where when he hadde
ſpred all his burthen of ſtones on the floore: he ran to his wife, catching
her by the h
••
re of the head, and throwing her at his feete;
giuing her ſo many ſpurns and cruel blowes, as ſhee was not able to
mooue either armes or legges, notwithſtanding all her teares, and
humble ſubmiſſion.
Now Buffalmaco and Bruno, after they had ſpent an indifferent
while, with the Warders at the Port in laughter, in a faire & gentle
pace, they followed Calandrino home to his houſe, and being come
to the doore, they heard the harſh bickering betweene him and his
Wife, and ſeeming as if they were but newly arriued, they called
out alowd to him. Calandrino being in a ſweate, ſt
••
ping and rauing
ſtill at his Wife: looking forth of the window, entreated them
to aſcend vp to him, which they did, counter
•
etting greeuous diſpleaſure
againſt him. Being come into the roome, which they ſaw
all couered ouer with ſtones, his Wife ſitting in a corner, all the
haire (well-neere) torne off her head, her face broken and blee
•
ing,
and all her body cruelly beaten; on the other ſide, Calandrino ſtanding
vnbraced and vngirded, ſtrugling and wallowing, like a
〈◊〉
quite our of breath: after a little pauſing, Bruno th
••
ſpake.
Why how now Calandrino? What may the m
•••
ing of this matter
be? What, art thou preparing for building, that thou haſt prouided
ſuch plenty of ſtones? How ſitteth thy poore wife? How haſt thou miſvſed
her? Are theſe the behauiours of a wiſe or honeſt man? Calandrino,
vtterly ouer-ſpent with trauaile, and carrying ſuch an huge
burthen of ſtones, as alſo the toyleſome beating of his Wife, (but
much more impatient and offended, for that high good Fortune,
which he imagined to haue loſt:) could not collect his ſpirits together,
to anſwer them one ready word, wherefore hee ſate fretting
like a mad man. Whereupon, Buffalmaco thus began to him. Calandrino,
if thou be angry with any other, yet thou ſhouldeſt not haue
made ſuch a mockery of vs, as thou haſt done: in leauing vs (like a couple
of coxcombes) to the plaine of Mugnone, whether thou leddeſt vs
with thee, to ſeeke a precious ſtone called Helitropium. And couldſt
thou ſteale home, neuer bidding vs ſo much as farewell? How can vve
but take it in very euill part, that thou ſhouldeſt ſo abuſe two honeſt
neighbours? Well, aſſure thy ſelfe, this is the laſt time that euer thou
ſhalt ſerue vs ſo.
Calandrino (by this time) being ſomewhat better come to himſelfe,
with an humble proteſtation of courteſie, returned them this
anſwer. Alas my good frionds, be not you offended, the caſe is farre otherwiſe
then you immagine. Poore vnfortunate man that I am, I
found the rare precious ſtone that you ſpeake of: and marke me well, if I
do not tell you the truth of all. When you asked one another (the first
time) what was become of me; I was hard by you: at the moſt, vvithin
the diſtance of two yards length; and perceiuing that you ſaw mee not,
(being ſtill ſo neere, and alwaies before you:) I w
••
t on, ſmiling to my
ſelfe, to heare you brabble and rage againſt me.
So, proceeding on in his diſcourſe, he recounted euery accident
as it hapned, both what they had ſaide and did vnto him, concerning
the ſeuerall blowes, with the two Flint-ſtones, the one hurting
him greeuouſly in the heele, and the other paining him as extreamly
in the backe, with their ſpeeches vſed then, and his laughter,
notwithſtanding hee felt the harme of them both, yet beeing
proud that he did ſo inuiſibly beguile them. Nay more (quoth he)
I cannot forbeare to tell you, that when I paſſed thorow the Port, I ſaw
you ſtanding with the Warders; yet, by vertue of that excellent Stone,
vndiſcouered of you all. Beſide, going along the ſtreets, I met many of
my Goſsips, friends, and familiar acquaintance, ſuch as vſed day lie to
conuerſe with me, and drinking together in euery Tauern: yet not one
of them ſpake to me, neyther vſed any courteſie or ſalutation; vvhich
(indeede) I did the more freely forgiue them, becauſe they were not able
to ſee me.
In the end of all, when I was come home into mine owne houſe, this
diuelliſh and accurſed Woman, being aloft vppon my ſtayres head, by
much misfortune chanced to ſee me; in regard (as it is not vnknowne
to you) that women cauſe all things to loſe their vertue. In which reſpect,
I that could haue ſtild my ſelfe the onely happy man in Florence,
am now made moſt miſerable. And therefore did I iuſtly beate her, ſo
long as ſhe was able to ſtand againſt mee, and I know no reaſon to the
contrary, why I ſhould not yet teare her in a thouſand peeces▪ for I may
well curſe the day of our mariage, to hinder and bereaue me of ſuch an
inuiſible bleſſedneſſe.
Buffalmaco and Bruno hearing this, made ſhew of verie much
meruailing thereat, and many times maintained what Calandrino
had ſaid; being well neere ready to burſt with laughter; conſidering,
how cōfidently he ſtood vpon it, that he had found the wonderful
ſtone, and loſt it by his wiues ſpeaking onely to him. But
when they ſaw him riſe in fury once more, with intent to beat her
againe: then they ſtept betweene them; affirming, That the woman
had no way offended in this caſe, but rather he himſelf: who knowing
that women cauſe all things to loſe their vertue, had not therefore expreſly
commanded her, not to be ſeene in his preſence all that day, vntill
he had made full proofe of the ſtones vertue. And queſtionles, the
conſideration of a matter ſo auaileable and important, was quite taken
from him, becauſe ſuch an eſpeciall happineſſe, ſhould not belong to
him only; but (in part) to his friends, whom he had acquainted therewith,
drew them to the plaine vvith him in companie, vvhere they
tooke as much paines in ſerch of the ſtone, as poſsibly he did, or could;
and yet (diſhoneſtly) he would deceiue them, and beare it away couetouſly,
for his owne priuate benefit.
After many other, as wiſe and wholeſome perſwaſions, which
he conſtantly credited, becauſe they ſpake them, they reconciled
him to his wife, and ſhe to him: but not without ſome difficulty in
him; who falling into wonderfull greefe and melancholy, for loſſe
of ſuch an admirable precious ſtone, was in danger to haue dyed,
within leſſe then a month after.
The Prouoſt belonging to the Cathedrall Church of Fieſola, fell in loue with a Gentlewoman, being a widdow, and named Piccarda, who hated him as much as he loued her. He imagining, that he lay with her: by the Gentlewomans Bretheren, and the Byſhop vnder whom he ſerued, was taken in bed with her Mayde, an vgly, ſoule, deformed Slut.
The Fourth Nouell.
Wherein is declared, how loue oftentimes is ſo powerfull in aged men, and driueth them to ſuch doating, that it redoundeth to their great diſgrace and puniſhment.
LAdie Eliza hauing concluded her Nouell, notwithout infinite
commendations of the whole company: the Queen
turning her lookes to Madame Aemillia, gaue her ſuch an
expreſſe ſigne, as ſhe muſt needs follow next after Madame Eliza,
whereupon ſhe began in this manner.
Vertuous Ladies, I very well remember (by diuers Nouels formerly
related) that ſufficient hath beene ſayde, concerning Prieſts and Religious
perſons, and all other carrying ſhauen Crownes▪ in their luxurious
appetites and deſires. But becauſe no one can at any time ſay ſo
much, as thereto no more may be added: beſide them alreadie ſpoken
of, I wil tel you another concerning the Prouoſt of a Cathedral Church,
who would needes (in deſpight of all the vvorld) loue a Gentlewoman
whether ſhe would or no: and therefore, in due chaſtiſement both vnto
his age and folly, ſhe gaue him ſuch entertainment as he iuſtly deſerued.
It is not vnknowne vnto you all, that the Cittie of Fieoſola, the
mountaine whereof we may very eaſily hither diſcerne, hath bene
(in times paſt) a very great and moſt ancient City: although at this
day it is well-neere all ruined: yet neuertheleſſe, it alwaies was, and
yet is a Byſhops See, albeit not of the wealthieſt. In the ſame Citie,
and no long while ſince, neere vnto the Cathedrall Church,
there dwelt a Gentlewoman, being a Widdow, and commonlie
there ſtiled by the name of Madame Piccarda, whoſe houſe and inheritance
was but ſmall, wherewith yet ſhe liued very contentedly
(hauing no wandering eye, or wanton deſires) and no company
but her two Brethren, Gentlemen of eſpeciall honeſt and gracious
diſpoſition.
This Gentlewoman, being yet in the flouriſhing condition of
her time, did ordinarily reſort to the Cathedrall Church, in holie
zeale, and religious deuotion; where the Prouoſt of the place, became
ſo enamored of her, as nothing (but the ſight of her) yeelded
him any contentment. Which fond affection of his, was forwarded
with ſuch an audacious and bold carriage, as hee dared to
acquaint her with his loue, requiring her enterchange of affection,
and the like opinion of him, as he had of her. True it is, that he was
very farre entred into yeares, but yong and luſtie in his own proud
conceite, preſuming ſtrangely beyond his capacity, and thinking as
well of his abilitie, as the youthfulleſt gallant in the World could
doe. Whereas (in verie deede) his perſon was vtterly diſpleaſing,
his behauiour immodeſt and ſcandalous, and his vſuall Language,
ſauouring of ſuch ſenſualitie, as, very fewe or none cared
for his company. And if any Woman ſeemed reſpectiue of him,
it was in regard of his outſide and profeſſion, and more for feare,
then the leaſt affection, and alwayes as welcome to them, as the
head-ake.
His fond and fooliſh carriage ſtil continuing to this Gentlewoman;
ſhe being wiſe and vertuouſly aduiſed, ſpake thus vnto him.
Holy Sir, if you loue me according as you proteſt, & manifeſt by your
outward behauiour: I am the more to thanke you for it, being bound
in dutie to loue you likewiſe. But if your Loue haue any harſhe or vnſauourie
taſte, vvhich mine is no way able to endure, neyther dare
entertaine in anie kinde what ſoeuer: you must and ſhall hold mee excuſed,
becauſe I am made of no ſuch temper. You are my ghoſtly and
ſpirituall Father, an Holy Prieſt. Moreouer, yeares haue made you honorably
aged; all which ſeuerall weighty conſiderations, ought to confirme
you in continency & chaſtity. Remember withall (good ſir) that I
am but a child to you in years, & were I bent to any wanton appetites,
you ſhold iuſtly correct me by fatherly counſell, ſuch as most beautifieth
your ſacred profeſſion. Beſide, I am a Widdow, and you are not ign
•
rant,
how requiſite a thing honeſtie is in widdowes. Wherefore, pardon
mee (Holy Father:) for, in ſuch manner as you make the motion: I
deſire you not to loue mee, becauſe I neither can or will at any time ſo
affect you.
The Prouoſte gaining no other grace at this time, would not ſo
giue ouer for this firſt repulſe, but purſuing her ſtill with vnbeſeeming
importunity; many priuate meanes he vſed to her by Letters,
tokens, and inſinuating ambaſſages; yea, whenſoeuer ſhee came to
the Church, he neuer ceaſed his weariſome ſolicitings. Whereat
ſhe growing greatly offended, and perceyuing no likelyhood of his
deſiſting; became ſo tyred with his tedious ſuite, that ſhe conſidered
with her ſelfe, how ſhe might diſpatch him as he deſerued, becauſe
ſhe ſaw no other remedy. Yet ſhee would not attempte anie
thing in this caſe, without acquainting her Bretheren firſt therwith.
And hauing tolde them, how much ſhee was importuned by the
Prouoſt, and alſo what courſe ſhe meant to take (wherin they both
counſelled and encouraged her:) within a few daies after, ſhee went
to Church as ſhe was wont to do; where ſo ſoone as the Prouoſt eſpyed
her: forthwith he came to her, and according to his continued
courſe, he fell into his amorous courting. She looking vpon him
with a ſmiling countenance, and walking aſide with him out of any
hearing: after he had ſpent many impertinent ſpeeches, ſhee (venting
foorth manie a vehement ſighe) at length returned him this
anſwer.
Reuerend Father, I haue often heard it ſaide: That there is not any
Fort or Caſtle, how ſtrongly munited ſoeuer it bee; but by continuall
aſſayling, at length (of neceſsity) it muſt and will be ſurprized. Which
compariſon, I may full well allude to my ſelfe. For, you hauing ſo long
time ſolicited me, one while with affable language, then againe vvith
tokens and entiſements, of ſuch preuailing power: as haue broken the
verie barricado of my former deliberation, and yeelded mee vppe
as your priſoner, to be commanded at your pleaſure, for now I am onely
deuoted yours.
Well may you (Gentle Ladies) imagine, that this anſwere was
not a little welcome to the Prouoſt; who, ſhrugging with conceyte
of ioy, preſently thus replyed. I thanke you Madame Piccarda, and
to tell you true, I held it almoſt as a miracle, that you could ſtand vpon
ſuch long reſiſtance, conſidering, it neuer ſo fortuned to mee with anie
other. And I haue many times ſaide to my ſelfe, that if women vvere
made of ſiluer, they hardly could be worth a pennie, becauſe there can
ſcarſely one be found of ſo good allay, as to endure the teſt and eſſay. But
let vs breake off this friuolous conference, and reſolue vpon a concluſion;
How, when and where we may ſafely meete together. Worthy Sir,
anſwered Piccard
•
, your ſelfe may appoint the time whenſoeuer you
pleaſe, becauſe I haue no Husband, to whom I ſhould render any account
of my abſence, or preſence: but I am not prouided of any place.
A pretty while the Prouoſte ſtood muſing, and at laſt ſaide. A
place Madame? where can be more priuacie, then in your owne houſe?
Alas Sir (quoth ſhe) you know that I haue two Gentlemen my brethren,
who cōtinually are with me, & other of their friends beſide: My
houſe alſo is not great, wherefore it is impoſsible to be there, except you
could be like a dumbe man, without ſpeaking one word, or making the
very leaſt noyſe; beſide, to remaine in darkeneſſe, as if you were blinde,
and who can be able to endure all theſe? And yet (without theſe) there
is no aduenturing, albeit they neuer come into my Chamber: but their
lodging is ſo cloſe to mine, as there cannot any word be ſpoken, be it neuer
ſo low or in whiſpering manner, but they heare it very eaſily. Madame
ſaid the Prouoſte, for one or two nights, I can make hard ſhift.
Why Sir (quoth ſhe) the matter onely remaineth in you, for if you be
ſilent and ſuffering, as already you haue heard, there is no feare at all
of ſafty. Let me alone Madame, replyed the Prouoſte, I will bee gouerned
by your directions: but, in any caſe, let vs begin this night.
With all my heart, ſaide ſhee. So appointing him how, and when hee
ſhould come; hee parted from her, and ſhee returned home to her
houſe.
Heere I am to tell you, that this Gentlewoman had a ſeruant, in
the nature of an old maide, not indued with any well featured face,
but inſtead thereof, ſhe had the vglieſt and moſt countefeit countenance,
as hardly could be ſeene a worſe. She had a wrie mouth,
huge great lippes, foule teeth, great and blacke, a monſtrous ſtinking
breath, her eyes bleared, and alwayes running, the complexion
of her face betweene greene and yellow, as if ſhee had not ſpent the
Summer ſeaſon in the Citie, but in the parching Countrey vnder a
hedge; and beſide all theſe excellent parts, ſhee was crooke backt,
poult footed, and went like a lame Mare in Fetters. Her name was
Ciuta, but in regard of her flat noſe, lying as low as a Beagles, ſhee
was called Ciutazza. Now, notwithſtanding all this deformity in
her, yet ſhe had a ſinguler opinion of her ſelfe, as commonly all ſuch
foule Sl
•
ts haue: in regard whereof, Madame Piccarda calling her
aſide, Thus began.
Ciutazza, if thou wilt doe for me one nights ſeruice, I ſhall beſtow on
thee a faire new Smocke. When Ciutazza heard her ſpeake of a
new Smocke, inſtantly ſhe anſwered. Madame, if you pleaſe to beſtow
a new Smocke on me, were it to runne thorow the fire for you, or any
buſineſſe of farre greater danger, you onely haue the power to command
me, and I will doe it. I will not (ſaid Piccarda) vrge thee to
any dangerous action, but onely to lodge in my bed this night with a
man, and giue him courteous entertainement, who ſhall reward thee
liberally for it. But haue an eſpeciall care that thou ſpeake not one
word, for feare thou ſhouldſt be heard by my Brethren, who (as thou
knoweſt) lodge ſo neere by; doe this, and then demaund thy Smocke of
me. Madame (quoth Ciutazza) if it were to lye with ſixe men, rather
then one; if you ſay the word, it ſhall be done.
When night was come, the Prouoſte alſo came according to appointment,
euen when the two brethren were in their lodging,
where they eaſily heard his entrance, as Piccarda (being preſent
with them) had informed them. In went the Prouoſte without any
candle, or making the leaſt noiſe to be heard, & being in Piccardaes
Chamber, went to bed: Ciutazza tarrying not long from him, but
(as her Miſtreſſe had inſtructed her) ſhe went to bed likewiſe, not
ſpeaking any word at all, and the Prouoſte, imagining to haue her
there, whom he ſo highly affected, fell to imbracing and kiſſing Ciutazza,
who was as forward in the ſame manner to him, and there for
a while I intend to leaue them.
When Piccarda had performed this hot piece of buſineſſe, ſhe referred
the effecting of the remainder to her Brethren, in ſuch ſort as
it was compacted betweene them. Faire and ſoftly went the two
brethren forth of their Chamber, and going to the Market place,
Fortune was more fauourable to them then they could wiſh, in accompliſhing
the iſſue of their intent. For the heat being ſomwhat tedious,
the Lord Biſhop was walking abroad very late, with purpoſe
to viſit the Brethren at the Widdowes houſe, becauſe he tooke great
delight in their company, as being good Schollers, and endued with
other ſingular parts beſide. Meeting with them in the open Market
place, he acquainted them with his determination; whereof they
were not a little ioyfull, it iumping ſo iuſtly with their intent.
Being come to the Widdowes houſe, they paſſed through a ſmal
nether Court, where lights ſtood ready to welcome him thither;
and entring into a goodly Hall, there was ſtore of good wine and
banquetting, which the Biſhop accepted in very thankefull manner:
and courteous complement being ouerpaſſed, one of the Brethren,
thus ſpake. My good Lord, ſeeing it hath pleaſed you to honour our
poore widdowed Siſters houſe with your preſence, for which wee ſhall
thanke you while we liue: We would intreate one fauour more of you,
onely but to ſee a ſight which we will ſhew you. The Lord Biſhop was
well contented with the motion: ſo the Brethren conducting him
by the hand, brought him into their Siſters Chamber, where the
the Prouoſte was in bed with Ciutazza, both ſoundly ſleeping, but
enfolded in his armes, as wearied (belike) with their former wantonning,
and whereof his age had but little need.
The Courtaines being cloſe drawne about the bed, although the
ſeaſon was exceeding hot, they hauing lighted Torches in their
hands; drew open the Curtaines, and ſhewed the Biſhop his Prouoſte,
cloſe ſnugging betweene the armes of Ciutazza. Vpon a
ſudden the Prouoſte awaked, and ſeeing ſo great a light, as alſo ſo
many people about him: ſhame and feare ſo daunted him, that hee
ſhrunke downe into the bed, and hid his head. But the Biſhop being
diſpleaſed at a ſight ſo vnſeemely, made him to diſcouer his head
againe, to ſee whom he was in bed withall. Now the poore Prouoſte
perceiuing the Gentlewomans deceite, and the proper hanſome
perſon ſo ſweetly embracing him: it made him ſo confounded
with ſhame, as he had not the power to vtter one word: but
hauing put on his cloathes by the Biſhops command, hee ſent him
(vnder ſufficient guard) to his Pallace, to ſuffer due chaſtiſement for
his ſinne committed; and afterward he deſired to know, by what
meanes hee became ſo fauoured of Ciutazza, the whole Hiſtorie
whereof, the two brethren related at large to him.
When the Biſhop had heard all the diſcourſe, highly he commended
the wiſedome of the Gentlewoman, and worthy aſſiſtance of
her brethren, who contemning to ſoile their hands in the blood of a
Prieſt, rather ſought to ſhame him as hee deſerued. The Biſhop
enioyned him a pennance of repentance for forty dayes after, but
loue and diſdaine made him weepe nine and forty. Moreouer, it
was a long while after, before he durſt be ſeene abroad. But when
he came to walke the ſtreets, the Boyes would point their fingers at
him, ſaying. Behold the Prouoste that lay with C
•
utazza: Which
was ſuch a weariſome life to him, that he became (well neere) diſtracted
in his wits. In this manner the honeſt Gentlewoman diſcharged
her dutie, and rid her ſelfe of the Prouoſts importunity:
Ciutazza had a merry night of it, and a new Smocke alſo for her labour.
Three pleaſant Companions, plaide a merry pranke with a Iudge (belonging to the Marqueſate of Ancona) at Florence, at ſuch time as he ſate on the Bench, and hearing criminall cauſes.
The Fift Nouell.
Giuing admonition, that for the mannaging of publique affaires, no other perſons are or ought to be appointed, but ſuch as be honeſt, and meet to ſit on the ſeate of Authority.
NO ſooner had Madam Aemillia finiſhed her Nouell, wherin,
the excellent wiſedome of Piccarda, for ſo worthily
puniſhing the luxurious old Prouoſte, had generall commendations
of the whole Aſſembly: but the Queene, looking on
Philoſtratus, ſaid. I command you next to ſupply the place: whereto
he made anſwere, that hee was both ready and willing, and then
thus began. Honourable Ladies, the merry Gentleman, ſo lately remembred
by Madame Eliza, being named Maſo del Saggio; cauſeth
me to paſſeouer an intended Tale, which I had reſolued on when it came
to my turne: to report another concerning him, and two men more,
his friendly Companions. Which although it may appeare to you ſomewhat
vnpleaſing, in regard of a little groſſe and vnmannerly behauiour:
yet it will moue merriment without any offence, and that is the
maine reaſon why I relate it.
It is not vnknowne to you, partly by intelligence from our reuerend
predeceſſours, as alſo ſome vnderſtanding of your owne, that
many time haue reſorted to our City of Florence, Poteſtates and
Officers, belonging to the Marqueſate of Anconia; who commonly
were men of lowe ſpirit, and their liues ſo wretched and penurious,
as they rather deſerued to be tearmed Miſers, then men. And in
regard of this their naturall couetouſneſſe and miſery, the Iudges
would bring alſo in their company, ſuch Scribes or Notaries, as being
paralelde with their Maſters: they all ſeemed like Swaines come
from the Plough, or bred vp in ſome Coblers quality, rather then
Schollers, or Students of Law.
At one time (aboue all the reſt) among other Poteſtates and Iudges,
there came an eſpeciall man, as pickt out of purpoſe, who was
named Meſſer Niccolao da San Lepidio, who (at the firſt beholding)
looked rather like a Tinker, then any Officer in authority. This
hanſome man (among the reſt) was deputed to heare criminall
cauſes. And, as often it happeneth, that Citizens, although no buſineſſe
inuiteth them to Iudiciall Courts, yet they ſtill reſort thither,
ſometimes accidentally: So it fortuned, that Maſo del Saggio, being
one morning in ſearch of an eſpeciall friend, went to the Courthouſe,
and being there, obſerued in what manner Meſſer Niccolao
was ſeated; who looking like ſome ſtrange Fowle, lately come forth
of a farre Countrey; he began to ſuruay him the more ſeriouſly,
euen from the head to the foot, as we vſe to ſay.
And albeit he ſaw his Gowne furred with Miniuer, as alſo the
hood about his necke, a Penne and Inkehorne hanging at his girdle,
and one skirt of his Garment longer then the other, with more miſſhapen
ſights about him, farre vnfitting for a man of ſo ciuill profeſſion:
yet he ſpyed one errour extraordinary, the moſt notable (in
his opinion) that euer he had ſeene before. Namely, a paultry paire
of Breeches, wickedly made, and worſe worne, hanging downe ſo
lowe as halfe his legge, euen as he ſate vpon the Bench, yet cut ſo
ſparingly of the Cloath, that they gaped wide open before, as a
wheele-barrow might haue full entrance allowed it. This ſtrange
ſight was ſo pleaſing to him; as leauing off further ſearch of his
friend, and ſcorning to haue ſuch a ſpectacle alone by himſelfe: hee
went vpon another Inquiſition; Namely, for two other merry
Lads like himſelfe, the one being called Ribi, and the other Matteuzza,
men of the ſame mirth-full diſpoſition as he was, and therefore
the fitter for his Company.
After he had met with them, theſe were his ſalutations: My honeſt
Boyes, if euer you did me any kindneſſe, declare it more effectually now,
in accompanying me to the Court-houſe, where you ſhall behold ſuch
a ſingular ſpectacle, as (I am ſure) you neuer yet ſaw the like. Forthwith
they went along altogether, and being come to the Court houſe, he
ſhewed them the Iudges hanſome paire of Breeches, hanging down
in ſuch baſe and beaſtly manner; that (being as yet farre off from
the Bench) their hearts did ake with extreamity of laughter. But
when they came neere to the ſeat whereon Meſſer Niccolao ſate,
they plainely perceiued, that it was very eaſ
•
e to be crept vnder, and
withall, that the board whereon he ſet his feet, was rotten and broken,
ſo that it was no difficult matter, to reach it, and pull it downe
as a man pleaſed, and let him fall bare Breecht to the ground.
Cheare vp your ſpirits (my hearts) quoth Maſo, and if your longing be
like to mine; we will haue yonder Breeches a good deale lower, for I ſee
how it may be eaſily done.
Laying their heads together, plotting and contriuing ſeuerall
wayes, which might be the likelyeſt to compaſſe their intent: each
of them had his peculiar appointment, to vndertake the buſineſſe
without fayling, and it was to be performed the next morning. At
the houre aſſigned, they met there againe, and finding the Court
well filled with people, the Plaintiffes and Defendants earneſtly
pleading: Matteuzzo (before any body could deſcry him, was cunningly
crept vnder the Bench, and lay cloſe by the board whereon
the Iudge placed his feete. Then ſtept in Maſo on the right hand
of Meſſer Niccolao, and tooke faſt hold on his Gowne before; the
like did Ribi on the left hand, in all reſpects anſwerable to the other.
Oh my Lord Iudge (cryed Maſo out aloud) I humbly intreat you for
charities ſake, before th
••
pilfering knaue eſcape away from hence; that
I may haue Iuſtice againſt him, for ſtealing my drawing-ouer ſtockeings,
which he ſtoutly denyeth, yet mine owne eyes beheld the deed, it
being now not aboue fifteene dayes ſince, when firſt I bought them for
mine owne vſe.
Worthy Lord Iudge (cryed Ribi, on the other ſide) doe not beleeue
what he ſaith, for he is a paltry lying fellow, and becauſe hee knew I
came hither to make my complaint for a Male or Cloakebag which he
ſtole from me: hee vrgeth this occaſion for a paire of drawing Stockeings,
which he deliuered me with his owne hands. If your Lordſhip
will not credit me, I can produce as witneſſes, Trecco the Shoemaker,
with Monna Graſſa the Souſe-ſeller, and he that ſweepes the Church
of Santa Maria á Verzaia, who ſaw him when he came poſting hither.
Maſo haling and tugging the Iudge by the ſleeue, would not ſuffer
him to heare Ribi, but cryed out ſtill for Iuſtice againſt him, as he did
the like on the contrary ſide.
During the time of this their clamourous contending, the Iudge
being very willy willing to heare either party: Matteuzzo, vpon a
ſigne receiued from the other, which was a word in Maſoes pleading,
laide holde on the broken boord, as alſo on the Iudges low-hanging
Breech, plucking at them both ſo ſtrongly, that they fell
downe immediately, the Breeches being onely tyed but with one
Poynt before. He hearing the boards breaking vnderneath him, and
ſuch maine pulling at his Breeches; ſtroue (as he ſate) to make them
faſt before, but the Poynt being broken, and Maſo crying in his eare
on the one ſide, as Ribi did the like in the other; hee was at his
wits end to defend himſelfe. My Lord (quoth Maſo) you may bee aſhamed
that you doe me not Iuſtice, why will you not heare mee, but
wholly lend your eare to mine Aduerſary? My Lord (ſaid Ribi) neuer
was Libell preferd into this Court, of ſuch a paltry trifling matter, and
therefore I muſt, and will haue Iuſtice.
By this time the Iudge was diſmounted from the Bench, and
ſtood on the ground, with his ſlouenly Breeches hanging about his
heeles: Matteuzzo being cunningly ſtolne away, and vndiſcouered
by any body. Ribi, thinking he had ſhamed the Iudge ſufficiently,
went away, proteſting, that he would declare his cauſe in the hearing
of a wiſer Iudge. And Maſo forbearing to tugge his Gowne
any longer, in his departing, ſaid. Fare you well Sir, you are not worthy
to be a Magiſtrate, if you haue no more regard of your honour and
honeſty, but will put off poore mens ſuites at your pleaſure. So both
went ſeuerall wayes, and ſoone were gone out of publike view.
The worſhipfull Iudge Meſſer Niccolao ſtood all this while on
the ground; and, in preſence of all the beholders, truſſed vp his
Breeches, as if hee were new riſen out of his bed: when better bethinking
himſelfe on the matters indifference, he called for the two
men, who contended for the drawing ſtockings and the Cloakebag;
but no one could tell what was become of them. Whereupon,
he rapt out a kinde of Iudges oath, ſaying: I will know whether
it be Law or no heere in Florence, to make a Iudge ſit bare
Breecht on the Bench of Iuſtice, and in the hearing of criminall
Cauſes; whereat the chiefe Poteſtate, and all the ſtanders by laughed
heartily.
Within fewe dayes after, he was informed by ſome of his eſpeciall
Friends, that this had neuer happened to him, but onely to teſtifie,
how vnderſtanding the Florentines are, in their ancient conſtitutions
and cuſtomes, to embrace, loue and honour, honeſt diſcreet
worthy Iudges and Magiſtrates; Whereas on the contrary,
they as much condemne miſerable knaues, fooles, and dolts, who
neuer merit to haue any better entertainment. Wherefore, it would
be beſt for him, to make no more enquiry after the parties; leſt a
worſe inconuenience ſhould happen to him.
Bruno and Buffalmaco, did ſteale a young Brawne from Calandrino, and for his recouery thereof, they vſed a kinde of pretented coniuration, with Pilles made of Ginger and ſtrong Malmeſey. But inſtead of this application, they gaue him two Pilles of a Dogges Dates, or Dowſets, confected in Alloes, which he receiued each after the other; by meanes whereof they made him beleeue, that hee had robde himſelfe. And for feare they ſhould report this theft to his wife; they made him to goe buy another Brawne.
The Sixt Nouell.
Wherein is declared, how eaſily a plaine and ſimple man may be made a foole, when he dealeth with crafty companions.
PHiloſtratus had no ſooner concluded his Nouell, and the
whole Aſſembly laughed heartily thereat: but the Queen
gaue command to Madame Philomena, that ſhee ſhould
follow next in order; whereupon thus ſhee began. Worthy Ladies,
as Philoſtratus, by calling to memorie the name of Maſo del Saggio,
hath contented you with another merry Nouell concerning him: in the
ſame manner muſt I intreat you, to remember once againe Calandrino
and his ſubtle Conſorts, by a pretty tale which I meane to tell you; how,
and in what manner they were reuenged on him, for going to ſeeke the
inuſible Stone.
Needleſſe were any freſh relation to you, what manner of people
thoſe three men were, Calandrino, Bruno, and Buffalmaco, becauſe
already you haue had ſufficient vnderſtanding of them. And
therefore, as an induction to my diſcourſe, I muſt tell you, that Calandrino
had a ſmall Country-houſe, in a Village ſome-what neere
to Florence, which came to him by the marriage of his Wife. Among
other Cattle and Poultry, which he kept there in ſtore, hee
had a young Boare readie fatted for Brawne, whereof yearly he vſed
to kill one for his owne prouiſion; and alwaies in the month of
December, he and his wife reſorted to their village houſe, to haue
a Brawne both killed and ſalted.
It came to paſſe at this time concerning my Tale, that the Woman
being ſomewhat crazie and ſickly, by her Husbands vnkinde
vſage, whereof you heard ſo lately; Calandrino went alone to the
killing of his Boare, which comming to the hearing of Bruno and
Buffalmaco, and that the Woman could by no meanes be there: to
paſſe away the time a little in merriment, they went to a friendlie
Companion of theirs, an honeſt iouiall Prieſt, dwelling not farre
off from Calandrinoes Countrey houſe.
The ſame morning as the Boare was kilde, they all three went
thither, and Calandrino ſeeing them in the Prieſts companie: bad
them all heartily welcome; and to acquaint them with his good
Husbandry, hee ſhewed them his houſe, and the Boare where it
hung. They perceyuing it to be faire and fat, knowing alſo, that
Calandrino intended to ſalt it for his owne ſtore, Bruno ſaide vnto
him: Thou art an Aſſe Calandrino, ſell thy Brawne, and let vs make
merrie with the money: then let thy wife know no otherwiſe, but that
it was ſtolne from thee, by thoſe theeues which continually haunt country
houſes, eſpecially in ſuch ſcattering Villages.
Oh mine honeſt friends, anſwered Calandrino, your counſell is not
to be followed, neither is my wife ſo eaſie to be perſwaded: this wer the
readieſt way to make your houſe a hell, and ſhe to become the Master-Diuell:
therefore talke no further, for flatly I will not doe it. Albeit
they laboured him very earneſtly, yet all proued not to anie purpoſe:
onely he deſired them to ſuppe with him, but in ſo colde a
manner, as they denyed him, and parted thence from him. As they
walked on the way, Bruno ſaide to Buffalmaco. Shall we three (this
night) rob him of his Brawne? Yea marry (quoth Buffalmaco) how
is it to be done? I haue (ſaide Bruno) alreadie found the meanes to effect
it, if he take it not from the place where laſt we ſaw it. Let vs doe
it then (anſwered Buffalmaco) why ſhould we not do it? Sir Domine
heere and we, will make good cheare with it among our ſelues. The
nimble Prieſt was as forward as the beſt; and the match being fully
agreed on, Bruno thus ſpake. My delicate Sir Domine, Art and
cunning muſt be our maine helps: for thou knoweſt Buffalmaco, what
a couetous wretch Calandrino is, glad and readie to drink alwaies on
other mens expences: let vs go take him with vs to the Tauern, where
the Prieſt (for his owne honour and reputation) ſhall offer to make paiment
of the whole reckoning, without receiuing a farthing of his,
whereof he will not be a little ioyfull, ſo ſhall we bring to paſſe the reſt
of the buſineſſe, becauſe there is no body in the houſe, but onely himſelfe:
for he is beſt at eaſe without company.
As Bruno had propounded, ſo was it accordingly performed, &
when Calandrino perceyued, that the Prieſt would ſuffer none to
pay, but himſelfe, he dranke the more freely; and when there was
no neede at all, tooke his Cuppes couragiouſly one after another.
Two or three houres of the night were ſpent, before they parted
from the Tauerne, Calandrino going directly home to his houſe,
and inſtantly to bed, without any other ſupper, imagining that he
had made faſt his doore, which (indeede) he left wide open: ſleeping
ſoundly▪ without ſuſpition of any harme intended vnto him.
Buffalmaco and Bruno went and ſupt with the Prieſt, and ſo ſoone as
ſupper was ended, they tooke certaine Engines, for their better entering
into Calandrinoes houſe, and ſo went on to effect theyr purpoſe.
Finding the doore ſtanding readie open, they entered in,
tooke the Brawne, carried it with them to the Prieſts houſe, and afterward
went all to bed.
When Calandrino had well ſlept after his Wine, he aroſe in the
morning, and being deſcended downe the ſtaires; finding the ſtreet
doore wide open, he looked for the Brawne, but it was gone. Enquiring
of the neighbours dwelling neere about him, hee could
heare no tydings of his Brawne, but became the wofulleſt man in
the world, telling euery one that his Brawne was ſtolne. Bruno and
Buffalmaco being riſen in the morning, they went to viſite Calandrino,
to heare how he tooke the loſſe of his Brawne: and hee no
ſooner had a ſight of them, but he called them to him; and with the
teares running downe his cheekes, ſayde: Ah my deare friendes, I
am robde of my Brawne. Bruno ſtepping cloſely to him, ſayde in his
eare: It is wonderfull, that once in thy life time thou canſt bee wiſe.
How? anſwered Calandrino, I ſpeake to you in good earneſt. Speake ſo
ſtill in earnest (replied Bruno) and cry it out ſo loud as thou canſt, then
let who liſt beleeue it to be true.
Calandrino ſtampt and fretted exceedingly, ſaying: At I am a
true man to God, my Prince, and Countrey, I tell thee truly, that my
Brawne is ſtolne. Say ſo ſtill I bid thee (anſwered Bruno) and let all
the world beleeue thee, if they liſt to do ſo, for I will not. Wouldſt thou
(quoth Calandrino) haue me damne my ſelfe to the diuell? I ſee thou
doſt not credit what I ſay: but would I were hanged by the necke, if it
be not true, that my Brawne is ſtolne. How ca
•
it poſsible be, replyed
Bruno? Did not I ſee it in thy houſe yeſter night? Wouldſt thou
〈◊〉
me beleeue, that it is flowne away? Although it is not flowne avvay
(quoth Calandrino) yet I am certain, that it
〈◊〉
ſtolne away for which
I am weary of my life, becauſe I dare not go home to mine owne houſe,
in regard my wife will neuer beleeue it; and yet if ſhe ſhould credite it,
we are ſure to haue no peace for a tweluemonths ſpace.
Bruno, ſeeming as if he were more then halfe ſorrowfull, yet ſupporting
ſtill his former ieſting humor, ſaide: Now truſt mee Calandrino,
if it be ſo; they that did it are much too blame. If it be ſo? anſwered
Calandrino, Belike thou vvouldſt haue mee blaſpheme Heauen,
and all the Saints therein: I tell thee once againe Bruno, that this
laſt night my Brawne was ſtolne. Be patient good Calandrino, replyed
Buffalmaco, and if thy Brawne be ſtolne from thee, there are means
enow to get it againe. Meanes enow to get it againe? ſaid Calandrino,
I would faine heare one likely one, and let all the reſt go by. I am
ſure Calandrino, anſwered Buffalmaco, thou art verily perſwaded,
that no Theefe came from India, to ſteale thy Brawne from thee: in
which reſpect, it muſt needes then be ſome of thy Neighbours: vvhom
if thou couldſt louingly aſſemble together, I knowe an experiment to
be made vvith Bread and Cheeſe, whereby the party that hath it, will
quickly be diſcouered.
I haue heard (quoth Bruno) of ſuch an experiment, and helde it
to be infallible; but it extendeth onely vnto perſons of Gentilitie,
whereof there are but few dwelling heere about, and in the caſe of
ſtealing a Brawne, it is doubtfull to inuite them, neither can there
be any certainty of their comming. I confeſſe what you ſay, aunſwered
Buffalmaco, to be very true: but then in this matter, ſo nerely
concerning vs to be done, and for a deare Friend, what is your
aduice? I would haue Pilles made of Ginger, compounded with
your beſt and ſtrongeſt Malmſey, then let the ordinary ſort of people
be inuited (for ſuch onely are moſt to be miſtruſted) and they
will not faile to come, becauſe they are vtterly ignorant of our intention.
Beſides, the Pilles may as well bee hallowed and conſecrated,
as bread and cheeſe on the like occaſion. Indeede you ſay
true (replyed Buffalmaco) but what is the opinion of Calandrino?
Is he willing to haue this try all made, or no? Yes, by all meanes,
anſwered Calandrino, for gladly I would know who hath ſtolne
my Brawne; and your good words haue (more then halfe) comforted
me already in this caſe.
Well then (quoth Bruno) I will take the paines to go to Florence, to
prouide all things neceſſarie for this ſecret ſeruice, but I muſt bee furniſhed
with money to effect it. Calandrino had ſome forty, ſhillings
then about him, which he deliuered to Bruno, who preſently went
to Florence, to a frend of his an Apothecarie, of whom he bought
a pound of white Ginger, which hee cauſed him to make vppe in
ſmall Pilles: and two other beſide of a Doggeſ-dates or Dowſets,
confected all ouer with ſtrong Aloes, yet well moulded in Sugare,
as all the reſt were: and becauſe they ſhould the more eaſily bee
knowne from the other, they were ſpotted with Gold, in verie formall
and Phyſicall manner. He bought moreouer, a big Flaggon
of the beſt Malmeſey, returning backe with all theſe things to Calandrino,
and directing him in this order.
You muſt put ſome friend in truſt, to inuite your Neighbors (eſpecially
ſuch as you ſuſpect) to a breakfaſt in the morning: and becauſe it
is done as a feaſt in kindneſſe, they will come to you the more willingly.
This night will I and Buffalmaco take ſuch order, that the Pilles
ſhall haue the charge impoſed on them, and then wee will bring them
hither againe in the morning: and I my ſelfe (for your ſake) will deliuer
them to your gueſts, and performe whatſoeuer is to bee ſayde or
done. On the next morning, a goodly company being aſſembled,
vnder a faire Elme before the Church; as well young Florentynes
(who purpoſely came to make themſelues merry) as neighbouring
Husbandmen of the Village: Bruno was to begin the ſeruice, with
the Pils in a faire Cup, and Buffalmaco followed him with another
Cup, to deliuer the wine out of the Flaggon, all the company beeing
ſet round, as in a circle; and Bruno with Buffalmaco being in the
midſt of them, Bruno thus ſpake.
Honeſt friends, it is fit that I ſhould acquaint you with the occaſion,
why we are thus met together, and in this place: becauſe if anie thing
may ſeeme offenſiue to you; afterward you ſhall make no complaint of
me. From Calandrino (our louing friend heere prefent) yeſternight
there was a new-kild fat Brawne taken, but who hath done the deede,
as yet he knoweth not; and becauſe none other, but ſome one (or more)
heere among vs, muſt needs offend in this caſe: he, deſiring to vnderſtand
who they be, would haue each man to receiue one of theſe Pilles,
and afterward to drinke of this Wine; aſſuring you all, that whoſoeuer
ſtole the Brawne hence, cannot be able to ſwallow the Pill: for it wil be
ſo extreme bitter in his mouth, as it will enforce him to Coughe and
ſpet extraordinarily. In which reſpect, before ſuch a notorious ſhame
be receiued, and in ſo goodly an aſſembly, as now are heere preſent: it
were much better for him or them that haue the Brawne, to confeſſe it
in priuate to this honeſt Prieſt, and I will abſtaine from vrging anie
ſuch publike proofe.
Euery one there preſent anſwered, that they were well contented
both to eate and drinke, and let the ſhame fall where it deſerued;
whereupon, Bruno appointing them how they ſhould ſit, and
placing Calandrino as one among them: he began his counterfeite
exorciſme, giuing each man a Pill, and Buffalmaca a Cup of Wine
after it. But when he came to Calandrino, hee tooke one of them
which was made of the Dogges dates or Dowſets, and deliuering
it into his hand, preſently hee put it into his mouth and chewed it.
So ſoone as his tongue taſted the bitter Aloes, he began to coughe
and ſpet extreamly, as being vtterly vnable, to endure the bitterneſſe
and noyſome ſmell. The other men that had receyued the
Pils, beganne to gaze one vpon another, to ſee whoſe behauiour
ſhould diſcouer him; and Bruno hauing not (as yet) deliuered Pils
to them all, proceeded on ſtill in his buſineſſe, as ſeeming not to
heare any coughing, till one behinde him, ſaide. What meaneth
Calandrino by this ſpetting and coughing?
Bruno ſodainely turning him about, and ſeeing Calandrino to
cough and ſpet in ſuch ſort, ſaide to the reſt. Be not too raſh (honeſt
Friends) in iudging of any man, ſome other matter (then the Pille)
may procure this Coughing, wherfore he ſhall receiue another, the better
to cleare your beleefe concerning him. He hauing put the ſecond
prepared Pill into his mouth, while Bruno went to ſerue the reſt of
the Gueſts: if the firſt was exceeding bitter to his taſte, this other
made it a great deale worſe, for teares ſtreamed forth of his eyes as
bigge as Cherry-ſtones, and champing and chewing the Pill, as hoping
it would ouercome his coughing; he coughed and ſpette the
more violently, and in groſſer manner then he did before, nor did
they giue him any wine to helpe it.
Buffalmaco, Bruno, and the whole company, perceiuing how he
continued ſtill his coughing and ſpetting, ſaide all with one voyce,
That Calandrino was the Theefe to himſelfe: and gaue him manie
groſſe ſpeeches beſide, all departing home vnto their houſes, very
much diſpleaſed and angry with him. After they were gone, none
remained with him but the Prieſt, Bruno and Buffalmaco, who thus
ſpake to Calandrino. I did euer thinke, that thou waſt the theefe thy
ſelfe, yet thou imputedſt thy robbery to ſome other, for feare we ſhould
once drinke freely of thy purſe, as thou haſt done many times of ours.
Calandrino, who had not yet ended his coughing and ſpetting,
ſware many bitter Oathes, that his Brawne was ſtolne from him.
Talke ſo long as thou wilt, quoth Buffalmaco, thy knauery is both
knowne and ſeene, and well thou mayſt be aſhamed of thy ſelfe. Calandrino
hearing this, grew deſperately angry; and to incenſe him
more, Bruno thus purſued the matter.
Heare me Calandrino, for I ſpeake to thee in honeſt earneſt, there
was a man in the company, who did eate and drinke heere among thy
neighbours, and plainly told me, that thou keptſt a young Lad heere to
do thee ſeruice, feeding him with ſuch victuals as thou couldſt ſpare,
by him thou didſt ſend away thy Brawne, to one that bought it of thee
for foure Crownes, onely to couſen thy poore wife and vs. Canſt thou
not yet learne to leaue thy mocking and ſcorning? Thou haſt forgotte,
how thou broughtſt vs to the plaine of Mugnone, to ſeeke for black inuiſible
ſtones: which hauing found, thou concealedſt them to thy ſelfe,
ſtealing home inuiſibly before vs, and making vs follow like fooles after
thee.
Now likewiſe, by horrible lying Oathes, and periured proteſtations,
thou wouldſt make vs to beleeue, that the Brawne (which thou haſt
cunningly ſold for ready money) was ſtolne from thee out of thy houſe,
when thou art onely th
•
Theefe to thy ſelfe, as by that excellent rule of
Art (which neuer faileth) hath plainly, to thy ſhame, appeared. Wee
being ſo well acquainted with thy deluſions, and knowing them perfectly;
now do plainly tell thee, that we mean not to be foold any more.
Nor is it vnknowne to thee, what paines vvee haue taken, in making
this ſingular peece of proofe. Wherefore we inflict this puniſhment on
thee, that thou ſhalt beſtow on this honeſt Prieſt and vs, two couple of
Capons, and a Flaggon of Wine, or elſe we will diſcouer this knauery of
thine to thy Wife.
Calandrino perceiuing, that all his proteſtations could winne no
credit with them, who had now the Law remaining in their owne
hands, and purpoſed to deale with him as they pleaſed: apparantly
ſaw, that ſighing and ſorrow did nothing auaile him. Moreouer,
to fall into his wiues tempeſtuous ſtormes of chiding, would bee
worſe to him then racking or torturing: he gladly therefore gaue
them money, to buy the two couple of Capons and Wine, being
heartily contented likewiſe, that hee was ſo well deliuered from
them. So the merry Prieſt, Bruno, and Buffalmaco, hauing taken
good order for ſalting the Brawne; cloſely carried it with them to
Florence, leauing Calandrino to complaine of his loſſe, and well requited,
for mocking them with the inuiſible ſtones.
A young Gentleman being a Scholler, fell in loue with a Ladie, named Helena, ſhe being a Widdow, and addicted in affection to another Gentleman. One whole night in cold Winter, ſhe cauſed the Scholler to expect her comming, in an extreame frost and ſnow. In reuenge whereof, by his imagined Art and skill, he made her to ſtand naked on the top of a Tower, the ſpace of a vvhole day, and in the hot moneth of Iuly, to be Sun-burnt and bitten with Waſpes and Flies.
The Seuenth Nouell.
Seruing as an admonition to all Ladies and Gentlewomen, not to mock or ſcorne Gentlemen-Schollers, vvhen they make meanes of loue to them: Except they intend to ſeeke their owne ſhame, by diſgracing them.
GReatly did the Ladies commend Madame Philomenaes
Nouell, laughing heartily at poore Calandrino, yet grieuing
withall, that he ſhould be ſo knauiſhly cheated, not
onely of his Brawne, but two couple of Capons, and a Flaggon of
Wine beſide. But the whole diſcourſe being ended; the Queene
commanded Madame Pampinea, to follow next with her Nouell,
and preſently ſhe thus began. It hapneth oftentimes (bright beauties)
that mockery falleth on him, that intended the ſame vnto another:
And therefore I am of opinion, that there is very litle wiſedom
declared on him or her, vvho taketh delight in mocking any perſon.
I muſt needs confeſſe, that we haue ſmiled at many mockeries and deceits,
related in thoſe excellent Nouels, which we haue already
••
ard:
without any due reuenge returned, but onely in this laſt of ſilly Calandrino.
Wherefore, it is now my determination, to vrge a kind of compaſsionate
apprehenſion, vpon a very iuſt retribution, happening to a
Gentlewoman of our Citie, becauſe her ſcorne fell deſeruedly vpon her
ſelfe, remaining mocked, and to the perill of her life. Let me then aſſure
you, that your diligent attention may redound to your benefit, becauſe
if you keepe your ſelues (henceforward) from being ſcorned by others:
you ſhall expreſſe the greater wiſedome, and be the better warned
by their miſhaps.
As yet there are not many yeares ouer-paſt, ſince there dwelt in
Florence, a yong Lady, deſcended of Noble parentage, very beautifull,
of ſprightly courage, and ſufficiently abounding in the goods
of Fortune, ſhe being named Madame Helena. Her delight vvas
to liue in the eſtate of Widdow-hood, deſiring to match her ſelfe
no more in marriage, becauſe ſhe bare affection to a gallant young
Gentleman, whom ſhe had made her priuate election of, and with
whom (hauing excluded all other amorous cares and cogitations)
by meanes of her Waiting-woman, ſhe had diuers meetings, and
kinde conferences.
It chanced at the verie ſame time, another young Gentleman of
our Citie, called Reniero, hauing long ſtudied in the Schooles at
Paris, returned home to Florence, not to make ſale of his Learning
and experience, as many doe: but to vnderſtand the reaſon of
things, as alſo the cauſes and effects of them, which is meruailouſly
fitting for any Gentleman. Being greatly honoured and eſteemed
of euery one, as well for his courteous carriage towards all in
generall, as for his knowledge and excellent parts: he liued more
like a familiar Citizen, then in the nature of a Courtly Gentleman,
albeit he was choiſely reſpected in either eſtate.
But, as oftentimes it commeth to paſſe, that ſuch as are endued
with the beſt iudgement and vnderſtanding in naturall occaſions,
are ſooneſt caught and intangled in the ſnares of Loue: ſo fel it out
with our Scholler Reniero, who being inuited to a ſolemne Feaſt,
in company of other his eſpeciall Friends; this Lady Helena, attyred
in her blacke Garments (as Widowes commonly vſe to wear)
was likewiſe there a Gueſt. His eye obſeruing her beauty and gracious
demeanour, ſhe ſeemed in his iudgement, to be a Woman ſo
compleate and perfect, as he had neuer ſeene her equall before: &
therefore, he accounted the man more then fortunate, that vvas
worthy to embrace her in his armes. Continuing this amorous obſeruation
of her from time to time, and knowing withall, that rare
and excellent things are not eaſily obtained, but by painefull ſtudy,
labour, and endeauour: hee reſolued with himſelfe conſtantly, to
put in practiſe all his beſt parts of induſtry, onely to honour and
pleaſe her, and attaining to her contentation, it would be the means
to winne her loue, and compaſſe thereby his hearts deſire.
The yong Lady, who fixed not her eyes on inferiour ſubiects (but
eſteemed her ſelfe aboue ordinary reach or capacity) could mooue
them artificially, as curious women well know how to doe, looking
on euery ſide about her, yet not in a gadding or groſſe manner
for ſhe was not ignorant in ſuch darting glaunces, as proceeded
from an enflamed affection, which appearing plainely in Reniero;
with a pretty ſmile, ſhee ſaid to her ſelfe. I am not come hither this
day in vaine; for, if my iudgement faile me not, I thinke I haue caught
a Woodcocke by the Bill. And lending him a cunning looke or two,
queintly caried with the corner of her eye; ſhe gaue him a kinde of
perſwading apprehenſion, that her heart was the guide to her eye.
And in this artificial Schoole-tricke of hers, ſhee carryed therewith
another conſideration, to wit, that the more other eyes fedde themſelues
on her perfections, and were (well-neere) loſt in them beyond
recouery: ſo much the greater reaſon had he to account his
fortune beyond compariſon, that was the ſole maſter of her heart,
and had her loue at his command.
Our witty Scholler hauing ſet aſide his Philoſophicall conſiderations,
ſtroue how he might beſt vnderſtand her carriage toward
him, and beleeuing that ſhe beheld him with pleaſing regards; hee
learned to know the houſe where ſhee dwelt, paſſing daily by the
doore diuers times, vnder colour of ſome more ſerious occaſions:
wherein the Lady very proudly gloried, in regard of the reaſons before
alleadged, and ſeemed to affoord him lookes of good liking.
Being led thus with a hopefull perſwaſion, hee found the meanes to
gaine acquaintance with her waiting-woman, reuealing to her his
intire affection, deſiring her to worke for him in ſuch ſort with her
Lady, that his ſeruice might be gracious in her acceptance. The
Gentlewoman made him a very willing promiſe, and immediately
did his errand to her Lady; who heard her with no ſmall pride and
ſquemiſhneſſe, and breaking forth into a ſcornefull laughter, thus
ſhe ſpake.
Ancilla (for ſo ſhe was named) doſt thou not obſerue, how this Scholler
is come to loſe all the wit heere, which he ſtudyed ſo long for in the
Vniuerſity of Paris? Let vs make him our onely Table argument, and
ſeeing his folly ſoareth ſo high, we will feed him with ſuch a dyet as hee
deſerueth. Yet when thou ſpeakeſt next with him, tell him, that I affect
him more then he can doe me; but it becommeth me to be carefull
of mine honour, and to walke with an vntainted brow, as other Ladies
and Gentlewomen doe: which he is not to miſlike, if he be ſo wiſe as he
maketh ſhew of, but rather will the more commend me. Alas good
Lady lack-wit, little did ſhe vnderſtand (faire aſſembly) how dangerous
a caſe it is deale with Schollers.
At his next meeting with the waiting woman, ſhee deliuered the
meſſage, as her Lady had command her, whereof poore Reniero was
ſo ioyfull: that hee purſued his loue-ſuite the more earneſtly, and
began to write letters, ſend gifts, and tokens, all which were ſtill receiued,
yet without any other anſwere to giue hope, but onely in
generall, and thus ſhee dallied with him a long while. In the end,
ſhe diſcouered this matter to her ſecret choſen friend, who fell ſuddenly
ſicke of the head-ake, onely through meere conceit of iealouſie:
which ſhe perceiuing, and grieuing to be ſuſpected without any
cauſe, eſpecially by him whom ſhee eſteemed aboue all other; ſhee
intended to rid him quickely of that Idle diſeaſe. And being more
and more ſolicited by the Scholler, ſhe ſent him word by her maide
Ancilla, that (as yet) ſhe could find no conuenient opportunity, to
yeeld him ſuch aſſurance, as hee ſhould not any way be diſtruſtfull
of her loue.
But the Feaſt of Chriſtmas was now neere at hand, which afforded
leiſures much more hopefull, then any other formerly paſſed.
And therefore, the next night after the firſt Feaſting day, if he pleaſed
to walke in the open Court of her houſe: ſhe would ſoone ſend
for him, into a place much better beſeeming, and where they might
freely conuerſe together.
Now was our Scholler the onely iocond man of the world, and
failed not the time aſſigned him, but went vnto the Ladies houſe,
where Ancilla was ready to giue him entertainment, conducting
him into the baſe Court, where ſhe lockt him vp faſt, vntill her Lady
ſhould ſend for him. This night ſhee had priuately ſent for her
friend alſo, and ſitting merrily at ſupper with him, told him, what
welcome ſhe had giuen the Scholler, and how ſhe further meant to
vſe him, ſaying. Now Sir, conſider with your ſelfe, what hot affection
I beare to him, of whom you became ſo fondly iealous. The which
words were very welcome to him, and made him extraordinarily
ioyful; deſiring to ſee them as effectually performed, as they appeared
to him by her proteſtations.
Heere you are to vnderſtand (Gracious Ladies) that according
to the ſeaſon of the yeare, a great ſnow had falne the day before, ſo
as the whole Court was couered therewith, and being an extreame
froſt vpon it, our S
•
holler could not boaſt of any warme walking,
when the teeth quiuered in his head with cold, as a Dog could not
be more diſcourteouſly vſed: yet hope of enioying Loues recompence
at length, made him to ſupport all this iniury with admirable
patience.
Within a while after, Madame Helena ſaid to her friend. Walke
with me (deare heart) into my Chamber, and there at a ſecret little
window, I ſhall ſhew thee what he doth, that droue thee to ſuch a ſuſpition
of me, and we ſhall heare beſide, what anſwere he will giue my maide
Ancilla, whom I will ſend to comfort him in his coldneſſe.
When ſhe had ſo ſaid, they went to the appointed chamber window,
where they could eaſily ſee him, but he not them: and then
they heard Ancilla alſo, calling to him forth of another windowe,
ſaying. Signior Reniero, my Lady is the wofulleſt woman in the
world, becauſe (as yet) ſhe cannot come to you, in regard that one of
her brethren came this euening to viſite
•
er, and held her with much
longer diſcourſe then ſhe expected: whereby ſhe was conſtrained to inuite
him to ſup with her, and yet he is not gone; but ſhortly I hope hee
will, and then expect her comming preſently; till when, ſhe entreateth
your genle ſufferance.
Poore Reniero, our ouer-credulous Scholler, whoſe vehement affection
to Madame Helena, ſo hood-winkt the ſight of his vnderſtanding,
as he could not be diſtruſtfull of any guilt; returned this
anſwere to Ancilla. Say to your Lady that I am bound in duty, to attend
the good houre of her leiſure, without ſo much as the very leaſt
preiudicate conceite in me: Neuertheleſſe, entreat her, to let it bee ſo
ſoone as ſhe poſsibly may, becauſe here is miſerable walking, and it begininneth
againe to ſnow extreamely. Ancilla making faſt the Caſeme
•
t,
went preſently to bed; when Helena ſpake thus to her amorous
friend. What ſaiſt thou now? Doeſt thou thinke that I loued
him, as thou waſt afraid of? If I did, he ſhould neuer walke thus in the
froſt and ſnow. So, away went they likewiſe from their cloſe gazing
window, and ſpent wanton dalliances together, laughing, and deriding
(with many bitter taunts and ieſts) the lamentable condition
of poore Reniero.
About the Court walked hee numberleſſe times, finding ſuch
exerciſes as he could beſt deuiſe, to compaſſe warmth in any manner:
no ſeate or ſhelter had he any where, either to eaſe himſelfe by
ſitting downe a while, or keepe him from the ſnow, falling continually
on him, which made him beſtow many curſes on the Ladies
Brother, for his ſo long tarrying with her, as beleeuing him verily
to be in the houſe, or elſe ſhe would (long before) haue admitted his
entrance, but therein his hope was meerely deceiued. It grew now
to be about the houre of midnight, and Helena had delighted her
ſelfe with her friend extraordinarily, til at laſt, thus ſhe ſpake to him.
What is thine opinion of my amourous Scholler? Which doſt thou imagine
to be the greateſt, either his ſenſe and iudgement, or the affection
I beare to him? Is not this cold ſufferance of this, able to quench the
violent
•
eat of his loues extremitie, and hauing ſo much ſnow broth
to helpe it? Beleeue me (ſweet Lady) quoth her friend, as hee is a
man, and a learned Scholler, I pitty that he ſhould bee thus vngently
dealt withall: but as he is my riuall and loues enemy, I cannot allow
him the leaſt compaſsion, reſting the more confidently aſſured of your
loue to me, which I will alwayes eſteeme moſt precious.
When they had ſpent a long while in this or the like conference,
with infinite ſweet kiſſes and embraces intermixed; then ſhe began
againe in this manner. Deare loue (quoth ſhe) caſt thy Cloake about
thee, as I intend to doe with my night mantle, and let vs step to the
little window once more, to ſee whether the flaming fire, which burned
in the Schollers breſt (as daily auouched to me in his loue letters) be as
yet extinct or no. So going to the window againe, and looking
downe into the Court; there they ſaw the Scholler dancing in the
ſnow, to the cold tune of his teeths quiuering and chattering, and
clapping his armes about his body, which was no pleaſing melody
to him. How thinkeſt thou now ſweet heart (ſſaide ſhee) cannot I
make a man daunce without the ſound of a Taber, or of a Bagpipe? yes
beleeue me Lady (quoth he) I plaine perceiue you can, and would be very
lothe, that you ſhould exerciſe your cunning on me. Nay, ſaid ſhee,
we will yet delight our ſelues a little more; let vs ſoftly deſcend downe
the ſtayres, euen ſo farre as to the Court doore: thou ſhalt not ſpeake a
word, but I will talke to him, and heare ſome part of his quiuering
language, which cannot chooſe but bee paſsing pleaſing for vs to
heare.
Out of the Chamber went they, and deſcended downe the
ſtayres to the Court doore; where, without opening it, ſhe laide her
mouth to a ſmall cranny, and in a low ſoft kinde of voyce, called
him by his name: which the Scholler hearing, was exceeding ioyful,
as beleeuing verily, that the houre of his deliuerance was come,
and entrance now ſhould be admitted him. Vpon the heating of
her voyce, hee ſtept cloſe to the doore, ſaying. For charities ſake,
good Lady, let me come in, becauſe I am almoſt dead with cold; whereto
thus ſhe anſwered in mocking manner. I make no doubt (my deare
friend Renioero) but the night is indifferent colde, and yet ſomewhat
the warmer by the Snowes falling: and I haue heard that ſuch weather
as this, is tenne-times more extreame at Paris, then heere in our
warmer Countrey. And truſt me, I am exceeding ſorrowfull, that I
may not (as yet) open the doore, becauſe mine vnhappy brother, who
came (vnexpected) yeſter-night to ſuppe with mee, is not yet gone, at
within a ſhort while (I hope) he will, and then ſhall I gladly ſet open
the doore to you, for I made an excuſe to ſteale a little from him, onely
to cheare you with this ſmall kind of comfort, that his ſo long tarrying
might be the leſſe offenſiue to you.
Alas ſweet Madame, anſwered quaking and quiuering Reniero,
bee then ſo fauourable to me, as to free me from forth this open Court,
where there is no ſhelter or helpe for me, the ſnow falling ſtill ſo exceedingly,
as a man might eaſily be more then halfe buried in it: let me be
but within your doore, and there I will wait your own good leiſure. Alas
deare Reniero (anſwered Helena) I dare not doe it, becauſe the doore
maketh ſuch a noyſe in the opening, as it will be too
•
aſily heard by my
Brother: but I will goe and vſe ſuch meanes, as ſhortly hee ſhall get
him gone, and then I dare boldly giue you entrance. Doe ſo good
Madame, replyed Reniero, and let there be a faire fire made ready,
that when I am within, I may the ſooner warme my ſelfe; for I am ſo
ſtrangely benummed with colde, as well-neere I am paſt all ſence of feeling.
Can it be poſsible (quoth Helena) that you ſhould be ſo benummed
with colde? Then I plainely perceiue, that men can lye in their loue
letters, which I can ſhew vnder your own hand, how you fryed in flames,
and all for my loue, and ſo haue you written to me in euery letter.
Poore credulous women are often thus deluded, in beleeuing what men
write and ſpeake out of paſsion: but I will returne backe to my Brother,
and make no doubt of diſpatch, becauſe I would gladly haue your
Company.
The amourous Friend to Helena, who ſtood by all this while,
laughing at the Schollers hard vſage, returned vp againe with her to
her Chamber, where they could not take a iote of reſt, for flouting
and ſcorning the betrayed Scholler. As for him poore man, hee
was become like the Swanne, coldly chattering his teeth together,
in a ſtrange new kinde of harmony to him. And perceiuing himſelfe
to be meerely mocked, he attempted to get open the doore, or
how he might paſſe forth at any other place: but being no way able
to compaſſe it, he walked vp and downe like an angry Lyon,
curſing the hard quality of the time, the diſcourteſie of the Lady,
the ouer-tedious length of the night; but (moſt of all) his owne
folly and ſimplicity, in being ſo baſely abuſed and gulde. Now began
the heat of his former affection to Helena, altered into as violent
a deteſtation of her; Yea, extremity of hatred in the higheſt
degree; beating his braines, and ranſacking euery corner of inuention,
by what meanes he might beſt be reuenged on her, which now
he more earneſtly deſired to effect, then to enioy the benefit of her
loue, or to be embraced betweene her armes.
After that the ſad and diſcomfortable night had ſpent it ſelfe,
& the break of day was beginning to appeare; Ancilla the waiting-woman,
according as ſhe was inſtructed by her Lady, went downe
and opened the Court doore, and ſeeming exceedingly to compaſſionate
the Schollers vnfortunate night of ſufferance, ſaide vnto
him.
Alas courteous Gentleman, in an vnbleſſed houre came my Ladyes
brother hither yeſter-night, inflicting too much trouble vpon vs, and
a grieuous time of affliction to you. But I am not ignorant, that you
being vertuous, and a iudicious Scholler, haue an inuincible ſpirit of
pacience, and ſufficient vnderſtanding withall; that what this night
could not affoord, another may make a ſound amends for. This I can
and dare ſufficiently aſſure you, that nothing could be more diſpleaſing
to my Lady, neither can ſhe well be quieted in her mind: vntill ſhe haue
made a double and treble requitall, for ſuch a ſtrange vnexpected inconuenience,
whereof ſhe had not the very leaſt ſuſpition.
Reniero ſwelling with diſcontentment, yet wiſely clouding it
from open apprehenſion, and knowing well enough, that ſuch golden
ſpeeches and promiſes, did alwaies ſauour of what intemperate
ſpleene would more lauiſhly haue vented foorth, and therefore in a
modeſt diſſembling manner; without the leaſt ſhew of any anger,
thus he anſwered.
In good ſadneſſe Ancilla, I htue endured the moſt miſerableſt night
of colde, froſt and ſnow, that euer any poore Gentleman ſuffered; but I
know well enough, your Lady was not in any fault thereof, neither meriteth
to be blamed, for in her owne perſon (as being truely compaſsionate
of my diſtreſſe) ſhe came ſo farre as the doore of this Court, to excuſe
her ſelfe, and comfort mee. But as you ſaide, and very well too,
what hath failed this night, another hereafter may more fortunately
performe: in hope whereof, commend my loue and duteous ſeruice to
her, and (what elſe remaineth mine) to your gentle ſelfe.
So our halfe frozen Scholler, ſcarcely able to walke vpon his
legges, returned home, (ſo well as hee could) to his owne lodging;
where, his ſpirits being grieuouſly out of order, and his eyes ſtaring
gaſtly through lacke of ſleepe: he lay downe on his bed, and after a
little reſt, he found himſelfe in much worſe condition then before,
as meerely taken lame in his armes and his legges. Whereupon
he was inforced to ſend for Phiſitions, to be aduiſed by their councell,
in ſuch an extremity of cold receiued. Immediately, they made
prouiſion for his healthes remedie (albeit his nerues and ſinewes
could very hardly extend themſelues) yet in regard he was yong, &
Summer ſwifly drawing on; they had the better hope of affecting
his ſafty, out of ſo great and dangerous a cold.
But after he was become almoſt well and luſty againe, hee vſed
to be ſeldome ſeene abroad for an indifferent while; concealing his
intended reuenge ſecret to himſelfe, yet appearing more affectionate
to Madame Helena, then formerly he had beene.
Now, it came to paſſe (within no long while after) that Fortune
being fauourable to our iniured Scholler, prepared a new accident,
wherby he might fully effect his harts deſire. For the luſty yong Gallant,
who was Madame Helenaes deare darling and delight, and (for
whoſe ſake) ſhe dealt ſo inhumanely with poore Reniero: became
weary of her amourous ſeruice, and was fal
••
in liking of another
Lady, ſcorning and diſdaining his former Miſtreſſe; whereat ſhee
grew exceedingly diſpleaſed, and began to languiſh in ſighes and
teares.
But Ancilla her waiting-woman, compaſſionating the perilous
condition of her Lady, and knowing no likely meanes whereby to
conquer this oppreſſing melancholly, which ſhee ſuffered for the
loſſe of her hearts choſen friend: at length ſhe began to conſider,
that the Scholler ſtill walked daily by the doore, as formerly hee
was wont to doe, and (by him) there might ſome good be done.
A fond and fooliſh opinion ouerſwayed her, that the Scholler
was extraordinarily skilfull in the Art of Nigromancy, and could
thereby ſo ouer-rule the heart of her loſt friend, as hee ſhould bee
compelled to loue her againe, in as effectuall manner as before;
herewith immediately ſhe acquainted her Lady▪ who being as raſhly
credulous, as her maide was opinionatiue (neuer conſidring,
that if the Scholler had any experience in Negromancy, hee would
thereby haue procured his owne ſucceſſe) gaue releefe to her ſurmiſe,
in very Iouiall and comfortable manner, and entreated her
in all kindnes, to know of him, whether he could worke ſuch a buſineſſe,
or no, and (vpon his vndertaking to effect it) ſhee would giue
abſolute aſſurance, that (in recompence thereof) he ſhould vnfainedly
obtaine his hearts deſire. Ancilla was quicke and expeditious,
in deliuering this meſſage to diſcontented Reniero, whoſe ſoule being
ready to mount out of his body, onely by conceit of ioy; chearefully
thus he ſaid within himſelfe. Gracious Fortune! how highly am I
obliged to thee for this ſo great a fauour? Now thou haſt bleſt me with
a happy time, to be iuſtly reuenged on ſo wicked a woman, who ſought
the vtter ruine of my life, in recompence of the vnfaigned affection I
bare her. Returne to thy Lady (quoth he) and ſaluting her firſt on
my behalfe, bid her to abandon all care in this buſineſſe; for, if her amourous
Friend were in India, I would make him come (in meere deſpight
of his heart) and craue mercy of her for his baſe tranſgreſsion.
But concerning the meanes how, and in what manner it is to bee done,
eſpecially on her owne behalfe: I will impart it to her ſo ſoone as ſhe
pleaſeth: faile not to tell her ſo conſtantly from me, with all my vtmoſt
paines at her ſeruice.
Ancilla came iocondly home with her anſwere, and a concluſion
was ſet downe for their meeting together at Santa Lucia del prato,
which accordingly was performed▪ in very ſolemne conference between
them. Her fond affection had ſuch power ouer her, that ſhee
had forgot, into what peril ſhe brought his life, by ſuch an vnnatural
night walke: but diſcloſed all her other intention to him, how loth
ſhe was to loſe ſo deare a friend, and deſiring him to exerciſe his vtmoſt
height of skil, with large promiſes of her manifold fauours to
him, whereto our Scholler thus replyed.
Very true it is Madam, that among other ſtudies at Paris, I learned
the Art of Negromancy, the depth whereof I am as skilfull in, as anie
other Scholler whatſoeuer. But, becauſe it is greatly diſpleaſing vnto
God, I made a vow neuer to vſe it, either for my ſelfe, or anie other.
Neuertheleſſe, the loue I beare you is of ſuch power, as I know not vvell
how to denie, whatſoeuer you pleaſe to command me: in which reſpect,
if in doing you my very beſt ſeruice, I were ſure to bee ſeized on by all
the diuels: I will not faile to accompliſh your deſire, you onely hauing
the power to command me. But let me tell you Madame, it is a matter
not ſo eaſie to be performed, as you perhaps may raſhly imagine, eſpecially,
when a Woman would repeale a man to loue her, or a man a vvoman:
becauſe, it is not to be done, but by the perſon vvhom it properly
concerneth. And therefore it behoueth, that ſuch as would haue this
buſineſſe effected, muſt be of a conſtant minde, without the leaſt ſcruple
of feare: becauſe it is to be accompliſhed in the darke night ſeaſon, in
vvhich difficulties I doe not know, how you are able to vvarrant your
ſelfe, or whether you haue ſuch courage of ſpirit, as (with boldnes)
to aduenture.
Madame Helena, more hot in purſuite of her amorous contentment,
then any way gouerned by temperate diſcretion, preſently
thus anſwered. Sir, Loue hath ſet ſuch a keene edge on my vnconquerable
affection, as there is not any daunger ſo difficult, but I dare reſolutely
vndertake it, for the recouery of him, who hath ſo ſhamefullie
refuſed my kindneſſe: vvherefore (if you pleaſe) ſhew mee, vvherein I
muſt be ſo conſtant and dreadleſſe. The Scholler, who had (more
then halfe) caught a right Ninny-hammer by the beake, thus replyed.
Madame, of neceſſity I muſt make an image of Tin, in the
name of him whom you deſire to recall. Which when I haue ſent
you, the Moone being then in her full, and your ſelfe ſtript ſtarke
naked: immediately after your firſt ſleepe, ſeauen times you muſt
bathe your ſelfe with it in a ſwift running Riuer. Afterward, naked
as you are, you muſt climbe vp vpon ſome tree, or elſe vpon an vninhabited
houſe top, where ſtanding dreadleſſe of any perill, and
turning your face to the North, with the Image in your hand, ſeauen
times you muſt ſpeake ſuch wordes, as I will deliuer to you in
writing.
After you haue ſo often ſpoken them, two goodly Ladies (the
very faireſt that euer you beheld) wil appeare vnto you, very graciouſly
ſaluting you, and demanding what you would haue them
to performe for you. Safely you may ſpeake vnto them, and orderly
tel them what you deſire: but
•
e very careful, that you
〈◊〉
not one man inſted of another. When you haue vttered your mind,
they wil depart from you, and then you may deſcend againe to the
place where you did leaue your g
•••
ents, which
••
uing putte on,
then returne to your houſe. And vndoubtedly, before the midſt
of the next night following, your friend wil come in teares to you,
and humbly craue your pardon on his knees; beeing neuer able afterward
to be falſe to you, or leaue your Loue for any other whatſoeuer.
The Lady hearing theſe words, gaue very ſetled beleefe to thē,
imagining vnfainedly, that ſhee had (more then halfe) recouered
her friend already, and held him embraced betweene her armes: in
which iocond perſwaſion, the chearful blood mounted vp into hir
cheekes, and thus ſhe replyed. Neuer make you any doubt Sir, but
that I can ſufficiently performe whatſoeuer you haue ſaid, and am
prouided of the onely place in the world, where ſuch a weighty buſineſſe
is to be effected. For I haue a Farme or dairy houſe, neere
adioyning to the vale of Arno, & cloſely bordering vpon the ſame
Riuer. It beeing now the moneth of Iuly, the moſt conuenienteſt
time of all the yeare to bathe in; I can bee the eaſier induced thereunto.
Moreouer, there is hard by the Riuers ſide a ſmal Tower or Turret
vninhabited; whereinto few people do ſildome enter, but onely
Heardſmen or Flocke-keepers, who aſcend vppe (by the helpe of a
wodden Ladder) to a Tarraſſe on the top of the ſaide Tower, to
looke all about for their beaſts, when they are wandred aſtray: it
ſtanding in a ſolitary place, and out of the common way or reſort.
There dare I boldly aduenture to mount vp, and with the inuincible
courage of a wronged Lady (not fearing to looke death himſelf
in the face) do al that you haue preſcribed, yea, and much more, to
recouer my deare loſt Louer againe, whom I value equal with my
owne Life.
Reniero, who perfectly knew both the Dairy Farme, and the old
ſmal Turret, not a little ioyful, to heare how forward ſhee vvas to
ſhame her ſelfe, anſwered in this manner. Madame, I was neuer in
thoſe parts of the Country, albeit they are ſo neere to our City, & therfore
I muſt needs be ignorant, not onely of your Farme, but the Turret
alſo. But if they ſtand in ſuch conuenient manner as you haue deſcribed,
all the vvorld could not yeelde the like elſewhere, ſo apt and ſutable
to your purpoſe: wherefore, vvith ſuch expedition as poſsibly I can
vſe, I will make the Image, and ſend it you, as alſo the charme, verie
fairely written. But let me entreate you, that vvhen you haue obtayned
your hearts deſire, and are able to iudge truely of my loue and ſeruice:
not to be vnmindfull of me, but (at your beſt leyſure) to performe
what you haue with ſuch proteſtations promiſed; which ſhee gaue him
her ha
•
d and faith to do, without any impeach or hinderance: and ſo
parting, ſhe returned home to her houſe.
Our ouer-ioyed Scholler, applauding his happy Starres, for furthering
him with ſo faire a way to his reuenge; immagining that it
was already halfe executed, made the Image in due forme, & wrote
an old Fable, inſted of a Charme; both which he ſent to the Lady,
ſo ſoone as he thought the time to be fitting: and this admonition
withall, that the Moone being entering into the full, without
any longer delay, ſhe might venter on the buſineſſe the next night
following, and remaine aſſured to repoſſeſſe her friend. Afterward
for the better pleaſing of himſelfe, he went ſecretly attended, onely
by his ſeruant, to the houſe of a truſty frend of his, who dwelt ſomwhat
neere to the Turret, there to expect the iſſue of this Lady-like
enterprize. And Madam Helena accompanied with none but Ancilla,
walked on to her dairy Farme, where the night enſuing, pretending
to take her reſt ſooner then formerly ſhe vſed to doe, ſhe commanded
Ancilla to go to bed, referring her ſelfe to her beſt liking.
After ſhe had ſlept her firſt ſleepe (according to the Schollers direction)
departing ſoftly out of her chamber, ſhe went on towards
the ancient Tower, ſtanding hard by the riuer of Arno, looking euery
way heedfully about hir, leaſt ſhe ſhould be ſpied by any perſon.
But perceiuing hir ſelfe to be ſo ſecure as ſhe could deſire; putting
off all her garments, ſhe hid them in a ſmall brake of buſhes: afterward,
holding the Image in hir hand, ſeuen times ſhe bathd hir body
in the riuer, and then returned back with it to the Tower. The
Scholler, who at the nights cloſing vp of day, had hid himſelfe among
the willowes & other trees, which grew very thick about the
Tower, ſaw both hir going and returning from the Riuer, and as ſhe
paſſed thus naked by him, he plainly perceyued, that the nights obſcurity
could not cloud the delicate whitenes of hir body, but made
the Starres themſelues to gaze amorouſly on her, euen as if they
were proud to behold her bathing, and (like ſo many twinkling Tapers)
ſhewed hir in emulation of another Diana. Now, what conflicts
this ſight cauſed in the mind of our Scholler, one while, quenching
his hatefull ſpleen towards hir, al coueting to imbrace a piece
of ſuch perfection: another while, thinking it a purchaſe fit for one
of Cupids ſoldiers, to ſeize and ſurprize hir vppon ſo faire an aduantage,
none being neere to yeild her reſcue: in the fiery triall of ſuch
temptations, I am not able to iudge, or to ſay, what reſiſtance fleſh
and blood could make, being oppoſed with ſuch a ſweet enemy.
But he well conſidering what ſhe was, the greatnes of his iniury,
as alſo how, and for whom: he forgot all wanton allurements of
Loue, ſcorning to entertaine a thought of compaſſion, continuing
conſtant in his reſolution, to let her ſuffer, as he himſelfe had done.
So, Helena being mounted vp on the Turret, and turning her face
towards the North; ſhe repeated thoſe idle friuolous words (compoſed
in the nature of a charme) which ſhee had receiued from the
Scholler. Afterward, by ſoft and ſtealing ſteps, hee went into the
old Tower, and tooke away the Ladder, whereby ſhe aſcended to
the Tarras, ſtaying and liſtening, how ſhee proceeded in her amorous
exorciſme.
Seuen times ſhe rehearſed the charme to the Image, looking ſtill
when the two Ladies would appeare in their likeneſſe, and ſo long
ſhe held on her imprecations (feeling greater cold, then willinglie
ſhe would haue done) that breake of day began to ſhew it ſelfe, and
halfe deſpairing of the Ladies comming, according as the Scholler
had promiſed, ſhe ſaid to her ſelfe: I much miſdoubt, that Reniero
hath quitted me with ſuch another peece of night-ſeruice, as it vvas
my lucke to beſtow on him: but if he haue done it in that reſpect, hee
was but ill aduiſed in his reuenge, becauſe the night wants now three
parts of the length, as then it had: and the cold which he ſuffered, was
far ſuperior in quality to mine, albeit it is more ſharp now in the morning,
then all the time of night it hath bin.
And, becauſe day-light ſhould not diſcouer her on the Tarraſſe,
ſhe went to make her deſcent downe againe: but finding the Ladder
to be taken away, & thinking how her publike ſhame was now
ineuitable, her heart diſmayed, and ſhee fell downe in a ſwoune on
the Tarras: yet recouering her ſenſes afterward, her greefe and ſorow
exceeded all capacity of vtterance. For, now ſhe became fully
perſwaded, that this proceeded from the Schollers malice, repenting
for her vnkinde vſage towards him, but much more condemning
her ſelfe, for repoſing any truſt in him, who ſtood bound
(by good reaſon) to be her enemy.
Continuing long in this extreame affliction, and ſurueighing all
likely meanes about her, whereby ſhe might deſcend from the Tarras,
whereof ſhe was wholly diſappointed: ſhe began to ſighe and
weepe exceedingly, and in this heauy perplexity of ſpirit, thus ſhee
complained to her ſelfe. Miſerable and vnfortunate Helena, what
will be ſaide by thy Bretheren, Kindred, Neighbours, and generallie
throughout all Florence, when they ſhall know, that thou waſt founde
heere on this Turret, ſtarke naked? Thine honourable carriage, and
honeſty of life, heeretofore free from a thought of ſuſpition, ſhall novv
be branded with deteſtation; and if thou wouldſt cloud this miſhappe
of thine, by ſuch lies and excuſes, as are not rare amongst women: yet
Reniero that wicked Scholler, who knoweth all thy priuy compacting,
will ſtand as a thouſand witneſſes againſt thee, and ſhame thee before
the whole City, ſo both thine honor and loued frie
•
d are loſt for euer.
Hauing thus conſulted with her ſelfe, many deſperate motions
entred her minde, to throw her ſelfe headlong from off the Tarras;
till better thoughts wone poſſeſſion of her ſoule. And the Sunne
being riſen, ſhee went to euery corner of the Tarras, to eſpye any
Lad come abroad with his beaſts, by whom ſhe might ſend for her
waiting-woman. About this inſtant, the Scholler who lay ſleeping
(all this while) vnder a buſh, ſuddenly awaking; ſaw her looke ouer
the wall, and ſhe likewiſe eſpyed him; whereupon hee ſaid vnto
her. Good morrow Madame Helena, What? are the Ladies come yet
or no? Helena hearing his ſcorning queſtion, and grieuing that hee
ſhould ſo delude her: in teares and lamentations, ſhe intreated him
to come neere the Tower, becauſe ſhe deſired to ſpeake with him.
Which courteſie he did not deny her, and ſhe lying groueling vpon
her breſt on the Tarras, to hide her body that no part thereof
might be ſeene, but her head; weeping, ſhe ſpake thus to him.
Reniero, vpon my credit, if I gaue thee an ill nights reſt, thou haſt
well reuenged that wrong on me; for, although wee are now in the
moneth of Iuly, I haue beene plagued with extremity of colde (in regard
of my nakedneſſe) euen almoſt frozen to death: beſide my continuall
teares and lamenting, that folly perſwaded me to beleeue thy proteſtations,
wherein I account it well-neere miraculous, that mine eyes
ſhould be capable of any ſight. And therefore I pray thee, not in reſpect
of any loue which thou canſt pretend to beare me; but for regard of thine
owne ſelfe, being a Gentleman and a Scholler, that this puniſhment which
thou haſt already inflicted vpon me, may ſuffi
•
e for my former iniuries
towards thee, and to hold thy ſelfe reuenged fully, as alſo permit my garments
to be brought me, that I may deſcend from hence, without taking
that from me, which afterward (although thou wouldſt) thou canſt neuer
reſtore me, I meane mine honour. And conſider with thy ſelfe, that
albeit thou didſt not inioy my company that vnhappy night, yet thou hast
power to command me at any time whenſoeuer, with making many diuerſities
of amends, for one nights offence only committed. Content thy ſelfe
then good Reniero, and as thou art an honeſt Gentleman, ſay thou art
ſufficiently reuenged on me, in making me dearely confeſſe mine owne
errour. Neuer exerciſe thy malice vpon a poore weake woman, for the
Eagle diſdaineeh to pray on the yeelding Doue: and therefore in meere
pitty, and for manhoods ſake, be my releaſe from open ſhame and reproch.
The Scholler, whoſe enuious ſpleene was ſwolne very great, in
remembring ſuch a malicious cruelty exerciſed on him, beholding
her to weepe and make ſuch lamentations; found a fierce conflict
in his thoughts, betweene content and pitty. It did not a little ioy
and content him that the reuenge which hee ſo earneſtly deſired to
compaſſe, was now by him ſo effectually inflicted. And yet (in meere
humanity) pitty prouoked him, to commiſſerate the Ladies diſtreſſed
condition: but clemency being ouer-weake to withſtand his
rigor, thus he replied. Madam Helena, if mine entreaties (which, to
ſpeake truly, I neuer knew how to ſteepe in tears, nor wrap vp my words
in ſugar Candie, ſo cuningly as you women know how to do) could haue
preuailed, that miſerable night, when I was well-neere frozen to death
with cold, and meerly buried with ſnow in your Court, not hauing anie
place of reſcue or ſhelter; your complaints would now the more eaſily ouer-rule
me. But if your honor in eſtimation, bee now more precious to
you the
•
heretofore, and it ſeemeth ſo offenſiue to ſtand there naked:
conuert your perſwaſions & prayers to him, in whoſe armes you vvere
that night imbraced, both of your triumphing in my miſery, when poor
I, trotted about your Court, with the teeth quiuering in my head, and
beating mine armes about my body, finding no compaſsion in him, or
you. Let him bring thee thy Garments, let him come helpe thee down
with the Ladder, and let him haue the care of thine honour, on whom
thou haſt bene ſo prodigall heretofore in beſtowing it, and now haſt vnwomanly
throwne thy ſelfe in perill, onely for the maintenance of thine
immodeſt deſires.
Why doſt thou not call on him to come helpe thee? To whom doeth it
more belong, then to him? For thou art his, and he thine. Why thē ſhold
any other but he help thee in this diſtreſſe? Call him (foole as thou art)
and try, if the loue he beareth thee, and thy beſt vnderſtanding ioyned
with his, can deliuer thee out of my ſottiſh detaining thee. I haue not
forgot, that when you both made a paſtime of my miſery, thou didſt demand
of him, which ſeemed greateſt in his opinion, either my ſottiſh
ſimplicity, or the loue thou bareſt him. I am not now ſo liberall or courteous,
to deſire that of thee, which thou wouldſt not grant, if I did requeſt
it: No, no, reſerue thoſe night fauours for thy amorous friend, if
thou doſt eſcape hence aliue to ſee him againe. As for my ſelfe, I leaue
thee freely to his vſe and ſeruice: becauſe I haue ſufficiently payde for a
womans falſhood, & wiſemen take ſuch warning, that they ſcorne to bee
twice deceiued, & by one woman. Proceed on ſtil in thy flattering perſwaſions,
terming me to be a Gentleman and a Scholler, thereby to win
ſuch fauor from me, that I ſhould think thy villany toward me, to be already
ſufficiently puniſhed▪ No, trecherous Helena, thy blandiſhments
cannot now hoodwink the eies of my vnderſtanding, as when thou didſt
out-reach me with thy diſloyall promiſes and proteſtations. And let
me now tell thee plainely, that all the vvhile I continued in the Vniuerſitie
of Paris, I neuer attained vnto ſo perfect an vnderſtanding
of my ſelfe, as in that one miſerable night thou diddeſt enſtruct mee.
But admit, that I were enclined vnto a mercifull and compaſsionate
minde, yet thou art none of them, on whome milde and gracious
mercy ſhould any way declare her effects. For, the end of pennance among
ſauage beaſts, ſuch as thou art, and likewiſe of due vengeance,
ought to be death: whereas among men, it ſhould ſuffice according to
thine owne ſaying. Wherefore, in regard that I am neither an Eagle,
nor thou a Doue, but rather a moſt venomous Serpent: I purpoſe with
my vtmoſt hatred, and as an ancient enemy to all ſuch as thou art, to
make my reuenge famous on thee.
I am not ignorant, that whatſoeuer I haue already done vnto thee,
cannot properly be termed reuenge, but rather chaſtiſement; becauſe
reuenge ought alwayes to exceede the offence, which (as yet) I am farre
enough from. For, if I did intend to reuenge my wrongs, and remembred
thy monſtrous cruelty to me: thy life, if I tooke it from thee, and
an hundred more ſuch as thy ſelfe, were farre inſufficient, becauſe in
killing thee, I ſhould kill but a vile inhumane beaſt, yea, one that deſerued
not the name of a Woman. And, to ſpeake truely, Art thou any
more, or better (ſetting aſide thy borrowed haire, and painted beauty,
which in few yeares will leaue thee wrinkled and deformed) then the
baſeſt beggarly Chamber-ſtuffe that can bee? Yet thou ſoughteſt the
death of a Gentleman and Scholler as (in ſcorne) not long ſince, thou
didſt terme me: whoſe life may hereafter be more beneficiall vnto the
world, then millions of ſuch as thou art, to liue in the like multiplicity
of ages. Therefore, if this anguiſh be ſenſible to thee, learne what it is
to mocke men of apprehenſion, and (amongſt them eſpecially) ſuch as
are Schollers: to preuent thy falling hereafter into the like extremity,
if it be thy good lucke to eſcape out of this.
It appeareth to me, that thou art verie deſirous to come downe hither
on the ground; the beſt counſell that I can giue thee, is to leape
downe headlong, that by breaking thy necke (if thy fortune be ſo faire)
thy life and lothſome qualities ending together, I may ſit and ſmile at
thy deſerued deſtruction. I haue no other comfort to giue thee, but only
to boaſt my happineſſe, in teaching thee the way to aſcend that Tower,
and in thy deſcending downe (euen by what means thy wit can beſt
deuiſe) make a mockery of me, and ſay thou haſt learned more, then all
my Schollerſhip could inſtruct thee.
All the while as Reniero vttered theſe ſpeeches, the miſerable Lady
ſighed and wept very grieuouſly, the time running on, and the
Sunne aſcending higher and higher; but when ſhe heard him ſilent,
thus ſhe anſwered. Vnkinde and cruell man, if that wretched night
was ſo greeuous to thee, and mine offence appeared ſo great, as neither
my youth, beautie, teares, and humble interceſsious, are able to deriue
any mercy from thee; yet let the laſt conſideration mooue thee to
ſome remorſe: namely, that I repoſed new confidence in thee (whē I had
little or no reaſon at all to truſt thee) and diſcouered the integritie of
my ſoule vnto thee, whereby thou didſt compaſſe the meanes, to puniſh
me thus deſeruedly for my ſinne. For, if I had not repoſed confidence
in thee, thou couldſt not (in this maner) haue wrought reuenge on me,
which although thou didſt earneſtly couet, yet my raſh credulitie was
thy onely helpe. Aſſwage then thine anger, and graciouſly pardon me,
wherein if thou wilt be ſo mercifull to me, and free me from this fatall
Tower: I do heere faithfully promiſe thee, to forſake my moſt falſe
and diſloyall friend, electing thee as my Lord and conſtant Loue for
euer.
Moreouer, although thou condemneſt my beauty greatly, eſteeming it
as a trifle, momentary, and of ſlender continuance; yet, ſuch as it is (being
comparable with any other womans whatſoeuer) I am not ſo ignorant,
that were there no other reaſon to induce liking thereof: yet men in the
vigour of their youth (as I am ſure you think your ſelfe not aged) do hold
it for an eſpeciall delight, ordained by nature for them to admire and honour.
And notwiſtanding all thy cruelty extended to mee, yet I cannot
be perſwaded, that thou art ſo flinty or Iron-hearted, as to deſire my miſerable
death, by caſting my ſelfe headlong downe (like a deſperate madde
woman) before thy face ſo to deſtroy that beuty, which (if thy Letters lyed
not) was once ſo highly pleaſing in thine eyes. Take pitty then on mee
for charities ſake, becauſe the Sunne beginneth to heate extreamely: and
as ouer-much colde (that vnhappy night) was mine offence, ſo let not ouer-violent
warmth be now my vtter ruine and death.
The Scholler, who (onely to delight himſelfe) maintained this
long diſcourſing with her, returned her this anſwere. Madame, you
did not repoſe ſuch confidence in me, for any good will or affection in you
towards me, but in hope of recouering him whom you had loſt; wherein
you merit not a iot of fauour, but rather the more ſharpe and ſeuere infliction.
And whereas you inferre, that your ouer-raſh credulity, gaue
the onely meanes to my reuenge: Alas! therein you deceiue your ſelfe;
for I haue a thouſand crochets working continually in my brain, wherby
to entrap a wiſer creature then a woman, yet veiled all vnder the
cunning cloake of loue, but ſauced with the bitter Wormewood of hate.
So that, had not this hapned as now it doth, of neceſsity you muſt haue
falne into another: but, as it hath pleaſed my happy ſtars to fauour mee
therein, none could prooue more to your eternall ſcandall and diſgrace,
then this of your owne deuiſing; which I made choiſe of, not in regard
of any eaſe to you, but onely to content my ſelfe.
But if all other deuiſes els had failed, my pen was and is my preuayling
Champion, where with I would haue written ſuch and ſo many
ſtrange matters, concerning you in your very deareſt reputation; that
you ſhould haue curſt the houre of your conception, & wiſht your birth
had bin abortiue. The powers of the pen are too many & mighty, wherof
ſuch weake wits as haue made no experience, are the leſſe able to vſe
any relation. I ſweare to you Lady, by my beſt hopes, that this reuenge
which (perhappes) you eſteeme great and diſhonourable, is no vvay
compareable to the vvounding Lines of a Penne, which can carracter
downe ſo infinite infamies (yet none but guilty and true taxations) as
will make your owne hands immediate inſtruments, to teare the eyes
from forth your head, and ſo bequeath your after dayes vnto perpetuall
darkeneſſe.
Now, concerning your loſt louer, for whoſe ſake you ſuffer this vnexpected
pennance; although your choiſe hath proued but bad, yet ſtill
continue your affection to him: in regard that I haue another Ladie
and Miſtreſſe, of higher and greater deſert then you, and to whome I
will continue for euer conſtant. And whereas you thinke, the warme
beames of the Sunne, will be too hot and ſcorching for your nice bodie
to endure: remember the extreame cold which you cauſed mee to feele,
and if you can intermixe ſome part of that cold with the preſent heat,
I dare aſſure you, the Sun (in his higheſt heate) will be far more temperate
for your feeling.
The diſconſolate Lady perceiuing, that the Schollers wordes ſauoured
of no mercy, but rather as couering her deſperate ending;
with the teares ſtreaming downe her cheekes, thus ſhe replied. Wel
Sir, ſeeing there is no matter of worth in me, whereby to deriue any
compaſſion from you: yet for that Ladies ſake, whom you haue
elected worthy to enioy your loue, and ſo farre excelleth mee in
Wiſedome; vouchſafe to pardon mee, and ſuffer my garments to
be brought me, wherewith to couer my nakedneſſe, and ſo to deſcend
downe from this Tower, if it may ſtand with your gentle Nature
to admit it.
Now beganne Reniero to laughe very heartily, and perceiuing
how ſwiftly the day ran on in his courſe, he ſaide vnto her. Beleeue
me Madame Helena, you haue ſo coniured me by mine endeered Ladie
and Miſtreſſe, that I am no longer able to deny you; wherefore, tell me
where your garments are, and I will bring them to you, that you may
come downe from the Turret. She beleeuing his promiſe, tolde him
where ſhe had hid them, and Reniero departing from the Tower,
commanded his ſeruant, not to ſtirre thence: but to abide ſtill ſo
neere it, as none might get entrance there till his returning. Which
charge was no ſooner giuen to his man, but hee went to the houſe
of a neere neighboring friend, where he dined well, and afterward
laid him downe to ſleepe.
In the meane while, Madame Helena remaining ſtill on the Tower,
began to comfort her ſelfe with a little vaine hope, yet ſighing
and weeping inceſſantly, ſeating her ſelfe ſo well as ſhee could,
where any ſmall ſhelter might yeelde the leaſt ſhade, in expectation
of the Schollers returning: one while weeping, then againe hoping,
but moſt of all deſpairing, by his ſo long tarrying away with
her Garments; ſo that beeing ouer-wearied with anguiſh and long
watching, ſhe fell into a little ſlumbering. But the Sunne was ſo
extreamly hot, the houre of noone being already paſt, that it meerly
parched her delicate body, and burnt her bare head ſo violently:
as not onely it ſeared all the fleſh it touched; but alſo cleft & chinkt
it ſtrangely, beſide bliſters and other painfull ſcorchings in the fleſh
which hindred her ſleeping, to help her ſelf (by all poſſible means)
waking. And the Turret being couered with Lead, gaue the greater
addition to her torment; for, as ſhe remoued from one place to
another, it yeelded no mitigation to the burning heate, but parched
and wrinkled the fleſh extraordinarily, euen as when a piece of
parchment is throwne into the fire, and recouered out againe, can
neuer be extended to his former forme.
Moreouer, ſhe was ſo grieuouſly payned with the head-ake, as it
ſeemed to ſplit in a thouſand pieces, whereat there needed no great
maruaile, the Lead of the Turret being ſo exceedingly hot, that it
affoorded not the leaſt defence againſt it, or any repoſe to qualifie
the torment: but droue her ſtill from one place to another, in hope
of eaſe, but none was there to be found.
Nor was there any winde at all ſtirring, whereby to aſſwage the
Sunnes violent ſcalding, or keepe away huge ſwarmes of Waſpes,
Hornets, and terrible byting Flyes, which vexed her extreamely,
feeding on thoſe parts of her body, that were rifte and chinkt, like
crannies in a mortered wall, and pained her like ſo many points of
pricking Needles, labouring ſtill with her hands to beate them away,
but yet they faſtned on one place or other, and afflicted her
in grieuous manner, cauſing her to curſe her owne life, hir amorous
friend, but (moſt of all) the Scholler, that promiſed to bring her
Garments, and as yet returned not. Now began ſhe to gaze vpon
euery ſide about her, to eſpy ſome labouring Husbandmen in the
fields, to whom ſhe might call or cry out for helpe, not fearing to
diſcouer her deſperate condition: but Fortune therein alſo was aduerſe
to her, becauſe the heats extreamity, had driuen all the village
out of the fields, cauſing them to feede their Cattle about theyr
owne houſes, or in remote and ſhadie Valleyes: ſo that ſhee could
ſee no other creatures to comfort her, but Swannes ſwimming in
the Riuer of Arno, and wiſhing her ſelfe there a thouſand times with
them, for to coole the extreamity of her thirſt, which ſo much the
more encreaſed, onely by the ſight thereof, and vtterly diſabled of
hauing any.
She ſaw beſide in many places about her, goodly Woods, fayre
coole ſhades, and Country houſes here and there diſperſed; which
added the greater violence to hir affliction, that her deſires (in all
theſe) could no way be accompliſhed. What ſhall I ſay more concerning
this diſaſtrous Lady? The parching beames of the Sunne
aboue her, the ſcalding heat of the Lead beneath her, the Hornets
and Flyes euerie way ſtinging her, had made ſuch an alteration of
her beautifull bodie: that, as it checkt and controlled the precedent
nights darkeneſſe, it was now ſo metamorphoſed with redneſſe,
yea, and blood iſſuing forth in infinite places, as ſhe ſeemed
(almoſt) lothſome to looke on, continuing ſtill in this agonie of
torment, quite voyde of all hope, and rather expecting death, then
any other comfort.
Reniero, when ſome three houres of the afternoone were ouerpaſt,
awaked from ſleeping: and remembring Madame Helena, he
went to ſee in what eſtate ſhe was; as alſo to ſend his ſeruant vnto
dinner, becauſe he had faſted all that day. She perceyuing his arriuall,
being altogether weake, faint, and wonderouſly ouer-wearied,
ſhe crept on her knees to a corner of the Turret, and calling to
him, ſpake in this manner. Reniero, thy reuenge exceedeth al manhoode
and reſpect: For, if thou waſt almoſt frozen in my Court,
thou haſt roaſted me all day long on this Tower, yea, meerly broyled
my poore naked bodie, beſide ſtaruing mee thorough want of
Food and drinke. Be now then ſo mercifull (for manhoods ſake)
as to come vppe hither, and inflict that on me, which mine owne
hands are not ſtrong enough to do, I meane the ending of my loathed
and weariſome life, for I deſire it beyond all comfort elſe, and
I ſhall honour thee in the performance of it. If thou deny me this
gracious fauour; at leaſt ſend me vppe a glaſſe of Water, onely
to moiſten my mouth, which my teares (being all meerly dried vp)
are not able to doe, ſo extreame is the violence of the Sunnes burning
heate.
Well perceiued the Scholler, by the weakneſſe of her voyce, and
ſcorching of her body by the Suns parching beames, that ſhee was
brought now to great extremity: which ſight, as alſo her humble interceſſion,
began to touch him with ſome compaſſion, neuertheles,
thus he replied. Wicked woman, my hands ſhalbe no means of thy
death, but make vſe of thine owne, if thou be ſo deſirous to haue it:
and as much water ſhalt thou get of me to aſſwage thy thirſt, as thou
gaueſt me fire to comfort my freezing, when thou waſt in the luxurious
heat of thy immodeſt deſires, and I wel-neere frozen to death
with extremity of cold. Pray that the Euening may raine downe
Roſe-water on thee, becauſe that in the Riuer of Arno is not good
enough for thee: for as little pitty doe I take on thee now, as thou
didſt extend compaſſion to me then.
Miſerable Woman that I am, anſwered Helena; Why did the heauens
beſtow beautie on mee, vvhich others haue admired and honoured,
and yet (by thee) is vtterly deſpiſed? More cruell art thou then
any ſauage Beaſt; thus to vexe and torment mee in ſuch mercileſſe
manner. What greater extreamity couldſt thou inflict on me, if I had
bin the deſtruction of all thy Kindred, and lefte no one man liuing of
thy race? I am verily per
•
waded, that more cruelty cannot be vſed againſt
a Traitor, who was th
•
ſubuerſion of an whole Cittie, then this
tyranny of thine, roaſting me thus in the beames of the Sun, and ſuffering
my body to be deuoured with Elies, without ſo ſmall a mercie, as
to giue mee a little coole water, which murtherers are permitted to
haue, being condemned by Iuſtice, and led to execution: yea Wine alſo,
if they requeſt it.
But, ſeeing thou art ſo conſtant in thy pernitious reſolue, as neither
thine owne good Nature, nor this lamentable ſufferance in me, are able
to alter thee: I will prepare my ſelf for death patiently, to the end, that
Heauen may be mercifull to my ſoul, and reward thee iuſtly, according
to thy cruelty. Which words being ended, ſhe withdrew her ſelfe
towards the middeſt of the Tarras, deſpairing of eſcaping (vvith
life) from the heates violence; and not once onely, but infinite
times beſide (among her other grieuous extreamities) ſhe was ready
to dye with drought, bemoaning inceſſantly her dolorous condition.
By this time the day was well neere ſpent, and night beganne to
haſten on apace: when the Scholler (immagining that he afflicted
her ſufficiently) tooke her Garments, and wrapping them vp in his
mans Cloake, went thence to the Ladies houſe, where he found
Ancilla the Waiting-woman ſitting at the doore, ſad and diſconſolate
for her Ladies long abſence, to whom thus he ſpake. How
now Ancilla? Where is thy Lady and Miſtris? Alas Sir (quoth
ſhe) I know not. I thought this morning to haue found her in her
bed, as vſually I was wont to do, and where I left her yeſternight
at our parting: but there ſhe was not, nor in any place elſe of my
knowledge, neyther can I imagine what is become of her, which is
to me no meane diſcomfort.
But can you (Sir) ſay any thing of her? Ancilla, ſaid he, I would
thou hadſt bin in her company, and at the ſame place where now
ſhe is, that ſome puniſhment for thy fault might haue falne vppon
thee, as already it hath done on her. But beleeue it aſſuredly, that
thou ſhalt not freely eſcape from my fingers, till I haue iuſtly paide
thee for thy paines, to teach thee to abuſe any Gentleman, as thou
didſt me.
Hauing thus ſpoken, hee called to his ſeruant, ſaying. Giue her
the Garments, and bid her go looke her Lady, if ſhe will. The Seruingman
fulfilled his Maſters command, and Ancilla hauing receyued
her Ladies cloaths, knowing them perfectly, and remembring
(withall) what had bin ſaid: ſhe waxed very doubtfull, leaſt they
had ſlaine her, hardly refraining from exclaiming on them, but that
greete and heauie weeping ouercame her; ſo that vppon the Schollers
departing, ſhe ranne in all haſt with the garments towardes the
Tower.
Vpon this fatall and vnfortunate day to Madame Helena, it chanced,
that a Clowne or Countrey Peazant belonging to her Farme
or Dairy houſe, hauing two of his young Heyfers wandred aſtray,
and he labouring in diligent ſearch to finde them: within a while
after the Schollers departure, came to ſeeke them in Woods about
the Tower, and, notwithſtanding all his crying and calling for his
beaſts, yet he heard the Ladies greeuous moanes and lamentations.
Wherefore, he cryed out ſo lowd as he could, ſaying: Who is it
that mourneth ſo aloft on the Tower? Full well ſhe knew the voyce
of her peazant, and therefore called vnto him, and ſayd in this maner.
Go (quoth ſhe) I pray thee for my Waiting-woman Ancilla, and
bid her make ſome meanes to come vp hither to me. The Clowne
knowing his Lady, ſayde. How now Madame? Who hath carried
you vp there ſo high? Your Woman Ancilla hath ſought for
you all this day, yet no one could euer haue immagined you to bee
there. So looking about him, he eſpyed the two ſides of the Ladder,
which the Scholler had pulled in ſunder; as alſo the ſteppes,
which he had ſcattered thereabout; placing them in due order againe
as they ſhould bee, and binding them faſt with Withies and
Willowes.
By this time Ancilla was come thither, who ſo ſoone as ſhee was
entred into the Tower, could not refrain from teares & complaints,
beating her hands each againſt other, and crying out. Madam, Madam,
my deare Lady and Miſtreſſe! Alas, Where are you? So
ſoone as ſhe heard the tongue of Ancilla, ſhe replyed (ſo well as ſhe
could) ſaying: Ah my ſweet Woman, I am heere aloft vppon the
Tarras; weepe not, neyther make any noyſe, but quickely bring me
ſome of my Garments. When ſhee heard her anſwer in ſuch comfortable
maner, ſhe mounted vp the Ladder, which the peazant had
made very firme and ſtrong, holding it faſt for her ſafer aſcending;
by which meanes ſhe went vp on the Tarras. Beholding her Ladie
in ſo ſtrange a condition, reſembling no humane body, but rather
the trunke of a Tree halfe burned, lying flat on her face, naked, ſcorched
and ſtrangely deformed: ſhee beganne to teare the lockes of
her owne hayre, rauing and raging in as pittifull manner, as if her
Ladie had beene quite dead. Which ſtorming tempeſt, Madame
Helena ſoone pacified, entreating her to vſe ſilence, and helpe to put
on her garments.
Hauing vnderſtood by her, that no one knew of her being there,
but ſuch as brought her cloathes, and the poore peazant, attending
there ſtill to do her any ſeruice: ſhee became the better comforted,
entreating them by all meanes, that it might bee concealed from any
further diſcouery, which was on eyther ſide, moſt faithfullie
proteſted.
The poore Clowne holpe to beare downe his Lady vppon his
backe, becauſe the Ladder ſtood not conueniently enough for her
deſcending, neither were her limbes plyable for her owne vſe, by
reaſon of their rifts and ſmarting. Ancilla following after, and being
more reſpectiue of her Lady, then her owne ſecurity in deſcending,
miſſing the ſtep in the midſt of the Ladder, fell downe to the
ground, and quite brake her legge in the fall, the paine whereof was
ſo greeuous to her, that ſhe cried and roared extraordinarily, euen
like a Lyon in the deſert.
When the Clowne had ſet his Lady ſafe on a faire green banke,
he returned to ſee what the waiting woman ayled, and finding her
leg to be quite broken: he caried her alſo to the ſame banke, & there
ſeated her by her Lady: who perceiuing what a miſchance had hapned,
and ſhe (from whom ſhe expected her onely beſt helpe, to bee
now in far greater neceſſity her ſelfe: ſhee lamented exceedingly,
complaining on Fortunes cruel malice toward her, in thus heaping
one miſery vpon another, and neuer ceaſing to torment her, eſpecially
now in the concluſion of all, and when ſhee thought all future
perils to be paſt.
Now was the Sun vpon his ſetting, when the poore honeſt country-man,
becauſe darke night ſhould not ouertake them, conducted
the Lady home to his owne houſe: and gaining the aſſiſtance of his
two brethren and wife, ſetting the waiting-woman in a Chaire, thither
they brought her in like manner. And queſtionles, there wanted
no diligence and comfortable language, to pacifie the Ladyes
continuall lamentations. The good wife, led the Lady into hir own
poore lodging, where (ſuch cates as they had to feede on) louingly
ſhe ſet before her: conueying her afterward into her owne bed, and
taking ſuch good order, that Ancilla was carried in the night time
to Florence, to preuent all further enſuing danger, by reaſon of her
legs breaking.
Madame Helena, to colour this misfortune of her owne: as alſo
the great miſhap of her woman: forged an artificiall and cunning
tale, to giue ſome formall apparance of hir being in the Tower, perſwading
the poore ſimple Country people, that in a ſtraunge accident
of thunder and lightning, and by the illuſions of wicked ſpirits,
all this aduenture hapned to her. Then Phyſitians were ſent
for; who, not without much anguiſh and affliction to the Ladie (by
reaſon of her fleſhes flaying off, with the Medicines and Emplayſters
applyed to the body) was glad to ſuffer whatſoeuer they did,
beſide falling into a very dangerous Feauer; out of which ſhe was
not recouered in a long while after, but continued in daily diſpayre
of her life; beſide other accidents hapning in her time of Phyſicke,
vtterly vnauoydable in ſuch extreamities: and hardly had Ancilla
her legge cured.
By this vnexpected pennance impoſed on Madame Helena, ſhe
vtterly forgot her amorous friend; and (from thence forward) carefully
kept her ſelfe from fond loues allurements, and ſuch ſcornfull
behauiour, wherein ſhe was moſt diſorderly faulty. And Reniero
the Scholler, vnderſtanding that Ancilla had broken her leg, which
he reputed as a puniſhment ſufficient for her, held himſelfe ſatisfyed,
becauſe neither the Miſtreſſe nor her Maide, could now make any
great boaſt, of his nights hard entertainment, and ſo concealed
all matters elſe.
Thus a wanton-headed Lady, could finde no other ſubiect to
worke her mocking folly on, but a learned Scholler, of whom ſhee
made no more reſpect, then any other ordinary man. Neuer remembring,
that ſuch men are expert (I cannot ſay all, but the greater
part of them) to helpe the frenzie of fooliſh Ladies, that muſt inioy
their looſe deſires, by Negromancy, and the Diuelles meanes.
Let it therefore (faire Ladies) be my louing admonition to you, to
deteſt all vnwomanly mocking and ſcorning, but more eſpeciallie
to Schollers.
Two neere dwelling Neighbours, the one beeing named Spineloccio Tauena, and the other Zeppa di Mino, frequenting each others company daily together; Spinelloccio Cuckolded his Friend and Neighbour. Which happening to the knowledge of Zeppa, he preuailed ſo well with the Wife of Spinelloccio, that he being lockt vp in a Cheſt, he reuenged his wrong at that inſtant, ſo that neyther of them complained of his misfortune.
The Eight Nouell.
Wherein is approued, that he which offereth ſhame and diſgrace to his Neighbour; may receiue the like iniury (if not in worſe manner) by the ſame man.
GReeuous, and full of compaſſion, appeared the hard Fortunes
of Madame Helena to be, hauing much diſcontented,
and (well-neere) wearied all the Ladies in hearing
them recounted. But becauſe they were very iuſtly inflicted vpon
her, and according as (in equity) ſhee had deſerued, they vvere the
more moderate in their commiſſeration: howbeit, they reputed the
Scholler not onely ouer-obſtinate, but alſo too ſtrict, rigorous and
ſeuere. Wherefore, when Madame Pampinea had finiſhed hir Nouell,
the Queene gaue command to Madame Fiammetta, that ſhe
ſhould follow next with her diſcourſe; whereto ſhee ſhewing obedience,
thus beganne.
Becauſe it appeareth in my iudgement (faire Ladyes) that the
Schollers cruelty hath much diſpleaſed you, making you more melancholly
then this time requireth: I holde it therefore very conuenient,
that your contriſted ſpirits ſhould be chearfully reuiued, with
matter more pleaſing and delightfull. And therefore, I mean to report
a Nouell of a certaine man, who tooke an iniury done him, in
much milder manner, and reuenged his wrong more moderately,
then the furious incenſed Scholler did. Whereby you may comprehend,
that it is ſufficient for any man, and ſo he ought to eſteeme
it, to ſerue another with the ſame ſawce, which the offending party
cauſed him firſt to taſte of: without coueting any ſtricter reuenge,
then agreeth with the quality of the iniury receiued.
Know then (Gracious aſſembly) that, as I haue heretofore heard,
there liued not long ſince in Sienna, two young men, of honeſt parentage
and equall condition, neither of the beſt, nor yet the meaneſt
calling in the City: the one being named Spinelloccio Tauena,
and the other tearmed Zeppa di Mino, their houſes Neighbouring
together in the ſtreete Camollia. Seldome the one walked abroade
without the others Company, and their houſes allowed equall welcome
to them both; ſo that by outward demonſtrations, & inward
mutuall affection, as far as humane capacity had power to extend,
they liued and loued like two Brethren, they both beeing wealthy,
and married vnto two beautifull women.
It came to paſſe, that Spinelloccio, by often reſorting to the houſe
of Zeppa, as well in his abſence, as when he abode at home; beganne
to glance amorous looks on Zeppaes wife, and purſued his vnneighbourly
purpoſe in ſuch ſort: that hee being the ſtronger perſwader,
and ſhe (belike) too credulous in beleeuing, or elſe ouer-feeble in
reſiſting; from priuate imparlance, they fell to action; and continued
their cloſe fight a long while together, vnſeene and vvithout
ſuſpition, no doubt to their equall ioy and contentment.
But, whether as a iuſt puniſhment, for breaking ſo louing a league
of friendſhip and neighbour-hood, or rather a fatall infliction, euermore
attending on the cloſeſt Cuckoldry, their felicity ſtill continuing
in this kinde: it fortuned on a day, Zeppa abiding within doors,
contrary to the knowledge of his wife, Spinelloccio came to enquire
for him, and ſhe anſwering (as ſhe verily ſuppoſed) that he was gon
abroad: vppe they went both together into the Hall, and no bodie
being there to hinder what they intended, they fell to their wonted
recreation without any feare, kiſſing and embracing as Louers vſe
to do.
Zeppa ſeeing all this, ſpake not one word, neither made any noiſe
at all; but kept himſelfe cloſely hidden, to obſerue the yſſue of this
amorous conflict. To be briefe, he ſaw Spinelloccio goe with his
wife into the Chamber, and make the doore faſt after them, whereat
he could haue beene angry, which he held to be no part of true
wiſedome. For he knew well enough, that to make an out crie in
this caſe, or otherwiſe to reueale this kinde of iniury, it could no
way make it leſſe, but rather giue a greater addition of ſhame and
ſcandall: he thought this no courſe for him to take; wiſer conſiderations
entred his braine, to haue this wrong fully reuenged, yet
with ſuch a diſcreete and orderly carriage, as no neighbours knowledge
ſhould by any meanes apprehend it, or the leaſt ſigne of diſcontent
in himſelfe blabbe it, becauſe they were two daungerous
euils.
Many notable courſes wheeled about his conceit, euery one promiſing
fairely, and miniſtring meanes of formall apparance, yet one
(aboue the reſt) wonne his abſolute allowance, which he intended
to proſecute as beſt he might. In which reſolution, he kept ſtill very
cloſe, ſo long as Spinelloccio was with his Wife; but hee being
gone, he went into the Chamber, where he found his wife, amending
the forme of her head attyre, which Spinelloccio had put into
a diſordred faſhion. Wife (quoth he) what art thou doing? Why?
Do you not ſee Husband? anſwered ſhe. Yes that I do wife, replied
Zeppa, and ſomething elſe happened to my ſight, which I could
wiſh that I had not ſeene. Rougher Language growing betweene
them, of his auouching, and her as ſtout denying, with defending
her cauſe ouer-weakely, againſt the manifeſt proofes both of eye
and eare: at laſt ſhe fell on her knees before him, weeping inceſſantly,
and no excuſes now auailing, ſhe confeſt her long acquaintance
with Spinelloccio, and moſt humbly entreated him to forgiue
her. Vppon the which penitent confeſſion and ſubmiſſion, Zeppa
thus anſwered.
Wife, if inward contrition be anſwerable to thy outward ſeeming
ſorrow, then I make no doubt, but faithfully thou doſt acknowledge
thine owne euill dooing: for which, if thou expecteſt pardon
of me; determine then to fulfill effectually, ſuch a buſines as I muſt
enioyne, and thou performe. I command thee to tell Spinelloccio,
that to morrow morning, about nine of the clocke, we being both
abroad walking, he muſt finde ſome apt occaſion to leaue my company,
and then come hither to viſit thee. When he is here, ſodainly
will I returne home, and vpon thy hearing of my entraunce: to
ſaue his owne credite, and thee from detection, thou ſhalt require
him to enter this Cheſt, vntill ſuch time as I am gone forth againe;
which he doing, for both your ſafeties, ſo ſoon as he is in the cheſt,
take the key and locke him vp faſt. When thou haſt effected this,
then ſhall I acquaint thee with the reſt remaining, which alſo muſt
be done by thee, without dread of the leaſt harme to him or thee,
becauſe there is no malicious meaning in me, but ſuch as (I am perſwaded)
thou canſt not iuſtly miſlike. The wife, to make ſome ſatisfaction
for her offence committed, promiſed that ſhe would performe
it, and ſo ſhe did.
On the morrow morning, the houre of nine being come, when
Zeppa and Spinelloccio were walking abroad together, Spinelloccio
remembring his promiſe vnto his Miſtreſſe, and the clocke telling
him the appointed houre, hee ſaide to Zeppa. I am to dine this day
with an eſpeciall friend of mine, who I would be loath ſhould tarry
for my comming; and therefore holde my departure excuſed.
How now? anſwered Zeppa, the time for dinner is yet farre enough
off, wherefore then ſhould we part ſo ſoone? Yea but Zeppa, replied
Spinelloccio, wee haue weighty matters to confer on before dinner,
which will require three houres ſpace at the leaſt, and therefore
it behoueth me to reſpect due time.
Spinelloccio being departed from Zeppa (who followed faire and
ſoftly after him) being come to the houſe, and kindly welcommed
by the wife: they were no ſooner gone vp the ſtaires, and entering
in at the Chamber doore; but the Woman heard her Husband
cough, and alſo his comming vp the ſtaires. Alas deare Spinelloccio
(quoth ſhe) what ſhall we do? My Husband is comming vppe,
and we ſhall be both taken tardie, ſtep into this Cheſt, lye downe
there and ſtirre not, till I haue ſent him forth againe, which ſhall be
within a very ſhort while. Spinelloccio was not a little ioyfull for
her good aduice; downe in the Cheſt lay he, and ſhe lockt him in:
by which time Zeppa was entred the Chamber. Where are you
Wife? ſaid he, (ſpeaking ſo loud, as hee in the Cheſt might heare
him) What, is it time to go to dinner? It will be anon Sir, anſwered
ſhe, as yet it is ouerearly; but ſeeing you are come, the more haſt
ſhall be made, and euery thing will be ready quickly.
Zeppa, ſitting downe vpon the Cheſt, wherein Spinelloccio lay
not a little affrighted, ſpeaking ſtil aloud, as formerly he did: Come
hither Wife (quoth he) how ſhall we do for ſome good companie
to dine with vs? Mine honeſt kinde neighbour Spinelloccio is not at
home, becauſe he dineth forth to day with a deare friend of his, by
which meanes, his wife is left at home alone: giue her a call out at
our Window, and deſire her to come dine with vs: for we two can
make no merry Muſicke, except ſome more come to fill vp the conſort.
His Wife being very timorous, yet diligent to doe whatſoeuer
he commanded, ſo preuailed with the Wife of Spinelloccio: that
ſhe came to them quickely, and ſo much the rather, becauſe her
Husband dined abroad. Shee being come vp into the Chamber,
Zeppa gaue her moſt kinde entertainment, taking her gently by the
hand, and winking on his Wife, that ſhe ſhould betake her ſelfe to
the kitchin, to ſee dinner ſpeedily prepared, while he ſat conuerſing
with his neighbour in the Chamber.
His wife being gone, he ſhut the doore after her; which the newcome
Neighbour perceyuing, ſhe ſayde. Our bleſſed Lady defend
me. Zeppa, What is your meaning in this? Haue you cauſed me to
come hither to this in tent? Is this the loue you beare to Spinelloccio,
and your profeſſed loyalty in friendſhippe? Zeppa, ſeating her
downe on the Cheſt, wherein her Husband was incloſed, entreating
her patience, thus began. Kinde and louing Neighbor, before
you aduenture too farre in anger, vouchſafe to heare what I ſhall
tell you.
I haue loued, and ſtill doe loue, Spinelloccio as my brother, but
yeſterday (albeit he knoweth it not) I found, the honeſt truſt I repoſed
in him, deſerued no other, or better recompence, but euen to
be bold with my wife, in the ſelfeſame manner as I am, and as hee
ought to do with none but you. Now, in regard of the loue which
I beare him, I intend to be no otherwiſe reuenged on him, but in the
ſame kinde as the offence was committed. He hath bin more then
familiar with my wife, I muſt borrow the ſelfe-ſame courteſie of
you, which in equity you cannot deny mee, weighing the wrong
you haue ſuſtained by my wife. Our iniuries are alike, in your Huſband
to me, and in my wife to you: let then their puniſhment and
ours be alike alſo; as they, ſo we; for in this caſe there can be no iuſter
reuenge.
The Woman hearing this, and perceiuing the manifolde confirmations
thereof, proteſted (on ſolemne oath) by Zeppa; hir beliefe
grew ſetled, and thus ſhe anſwered. My louing neighbor Zeppa, ſeeing
this kinde of reuenge is (in meere iuſtice) impoſed on mee, and
ordained as a due ſcourge, as well to the breach of friendſhip and
neighbour-hood, as abuſe of his true and loyall wife: I am the more
willing to conſent: alwaies prouided, that it be no imbarrement of
loue betweene your wife and mee, albeit I haue good reaſon to alledge,
that ſhe began the quarrell firſt: and what I do is but to right
my wrong, as any other woman of ſpirit would do: Afterwards,
we may the more eaſily pardon one another. For breach of peace
(anſwered Zeppa) between my wife and you, take my honeſt word
for your warrant. Moreouer, in requitall of this fauour to mee, I
will beſtowe a deare and precious Iewell on you, excelling all the
reſt which you haue beſide.
In deliuering theſe words, he ſweetly kiſſed and embraced her, as
ſhe ſat on the Cheſt wherein her husband lay: now, what they did
elſe beſide, in recompence of the wrong-receiued, I leaue to your
imagination, as rather deſeruing ſilence, then immodeſt blabbing.
Spinelloccio, being all this while in the Cheſt, hearing eaſily all the
words which Zeppa had vttered, the anſwer of his wife, as alſo what
Muſicke they made ouer his head: you may gueſſe in what a caſe
he was, his heart being ready to ſplit with rage, and, but that hee
ſtood in feare of Zeppa, he would haue railde and exclaimed on his
wife, as thus hee lay ſhut vp in the Cheſt. But entering into better
conſideration, that ſo great an iniury was firſt begun by himſelfe, &
Zeppa did no more, then in reaſon and equity he might well do (hauing
euermore carried himſelfe like a kinde neighbour and frend towards
him, without the leaſt offer of diſtaſte) he faithfully reſolued,
to be a firmer friend to Zeppa then formerly hee had bin, if it might
be embraced and accepted on the other ſide.
Delights and pleaſures, be they neuer ſo long in contenting and
continuance, yet they come to a period and concluſion at laſt: So
Zeppa, hauing ended his amorous combate, and ouer the head of his
perfidious friend, thought himſelfe ſufficiently reuenged. But now,
in conſideration of a further promiſe made on the bargaine; Spinelloccioes
wife challengeth the Iewel, then which kind of recompence,
nothing can be more welcom to women. Heereupon, Zeppa calling
for his owne wife, commanded her to open the Cheſt; which ſhee
did, and he merrily ſmiling, ſaide. Well wife, you haue giuen mee a
Cake inſted of bread, and you ſhal loſe nothing for your labour. So
Spinelloccio comming forth of the Cheſt, it requireth a better witte
then mine, to tell you, which of them ſtood moſt confounded vvith
ſhame, either Spinelloccio ſeeing Zeppa, and knowing well enough
what he had done: or the woman beholding her husband, who eaſily
heard all their familiar conference, and the action thereupon ſo
deſeruedly performed.
See neighbour, is not this your deareſt Iewell? Hauing kept it awhile
in my wiues cuſtody; according to my promiſe, here I deliuer
it you. Spinelloccio being glad of his deliuerance out of the Cheſt,
albeit not a little aſhamed of himſelfe; without vſing many impertinent
words, ſaide. Zeppa, our wrongs are equally requited on each
other, and therefore I allow thy former ſpeeches to my Wife, that
thou waſt my friend, as I am the like to thee, and ſo I pray thee let vs
ſtill continue. For nothing elſe is now to bee diuided betweene vs,
ſeeing we haue ſhared alike in our wiues, which none knowing but
our ſelues, let it be as cloſely kept to our ſelues. Zeppa was wel pleaſed
with the motion, and ſo all foure dined louingly together, without
any variance or diſcontentment. And thence forward, each of
the Women had two Husbands, as either Husband enioyed two
Wiues, without further contention or debate.
Maeſtro Simone, an ydle-headed Doctor of Phyſicke, was throwne by Bruno and Buffalmaco, into a common Leyſtall of Filth: The Phyſitian fondly beleeuing, that (in the night time) he ſhould hee made one of a new created Company, who vſually went to ſee vvonders at Corſica; and there in the Leyſtall they left him.
The Ninth Nouell.
Wherein is approued, that Titles of Honour, Learning, and Dignity, are not alwayes beſtowne on the wiſeſt men.
AFter that the Ladies had a while conſidered, on the communication
betweene the two Wiues of Sienna, and the
falſhood in friendſhip of their Husbands: the Queene,
who was the laſt to recount her Nouell, without offering iniurie to
Dioneus, began to ſpeake thus.
The reward for a precedent wrong committed, which Zeppa retorted
vpon Spinelloccio, was anſwerable to his deſert, and no more
then equity required, in which reſpect, I am of opinion, that ſuch
men ought not to be ouer-ſharpely reproued, as do in iurie to him,
who ſeeketh for it, and iuſtly ſhould haue it, althogh Madam Pampinea
(not long ſince) auouched the contrary. Now, it euidently
appeareth, that Spinelloccio well deſerued what was done to him,
and I purpoſe to ſpeake of another, who needs would ſeeke after his
owne diſgrace. The rather to confirme my former ſpeeches, that
they which beguile ſuch wilfull fooliſh men; are not to bee blamed,
but rather commended. And he vnto whom the ſhame was done,
was a Phyſitian, which came from Bologna to Florence; and returned
thither againe like vnto a Beaſt, notoriouſly baffulled and diſgraced.
It is a matter well knowne to vs, and (almoſt) obſerued day by
day, that diuers of our Citizens, when they returne from their ſtudying
at Bologna: one becommeth an Aduocate, another a Phyſitian,
and a third a Notarie, with long & large gowns, ſome of Scarlet,
and hoods furred with Mineuer, beſide diuers other great apparances,
ſucceeding effectually daily in their ſeuerall kinds. Among
whom, there returned (not long ſince) thence, one Maſter Simon
da Villa, more rich in poſſeſſions left him by his parents, then anie
knowledge thereto obtained: yet cloathed in Scarlet, with his Miniuer
hood, and ſtyled a Doctor of Phyſicke, which title hee onely
beſtowed on himſelfe, and tooke a goodly houſe for his dwelling,
in the ſtreet which wee commonly call La via del Cocomero. This
Maſter Doctor Simon, being thus newly come thither, among other
notable qualities in him, had one more eſpecial then any of the
reſt, namely, to know the names and conditions of ſuch perſons, as
daily paſſed by his doore, and what profeſſions they were of, wherby
any likelyhood might be gathered of needing his helpe, and being
his patients, obſeruing them all with very vigilant care.
But, among all the reſt by him thus warily noted, he moſt obſerued
two Painters, of whom we haue heeretofore twice diſcourſed,
Bruno and Buffalmaco, who walked continually together, and were
his neere dwelling neighbors. The matter which moſt of al he noted
in them, was; that they liued metrily, and with much leſſe care,
then any elſe in the Cittie beſide, and verily they did ſo in deede.
Wherefore, he demanded of diuers perſons, who had good vnderſtanding
of them both, of what eſtate and condition they vvere.
And hearing by euery one, that they were but poore men & Painters:
he greatly meruailed, how it could be poſſible for them, that
they ſhould liue ſo iocondly, and in ſuch pouerty. It was related to
him further beſide, that they were men of a quicke and ingenious
apprehenſion, whereby hee politikely imagined, that theyr poore
condition could not ſo well maintaine them; without ſome courſes
elſe, albeit not publiquely knowne vnto men, yet redounding
to their great commoditie and profite. In which regard, he grew
exceeding deſirous, by what meanes he might becom acquainted,
and grow into familiarity with them both, or any of them, at the
leaſt: wherein (at the length) he preuailed, and Bruno proued to be
the man.
Now Bruno plainly perceiuing (within a ſhort while of this new
begun acquaintance) that the Phyſitian was a Logger-head, and
meerely no better then a Gregorian Animall: he beganne to haue
much good paſtime with him, by telling him ſtrange and incredible
Tales, ſuch as none but a Coxcombe would giue credit too; yet
they delighted Doctor Dunce extraordinarily, and Brunoes familiarity
was ſo highly pleaſing to him, that he was a daily gueſt at dinner
and ſupper with him, and hee was not meanly proud of enioying
his company. One day, as they ſate in familiar conference together,
he told Bruno that he wondred not a little at him and Buffalmaco,
they being both ſo poore people, yet liued far more iouially
then Lords, and therefore deſired to vnderſtand, by vvhat ſecret
meanes they compaſſed ſuch mirthful maintenance. Bruno,
hearing the Doctors demaund, & perceiuing that it ſauoured more
of the foole, then any the very leaſt taſte of wiſedome: ſmiled vnto
himſelfe, and determined to returne him ſuch an anſwere, as might
be fitting for his folly, whereupon, thus he replied.
Beleeue me Maſter Doctor, I would not impart to many people,
what priuate helpes we haue for our maintenance: but yet I dare
boldly acquaint you therewith, in regard you are one of our moſt
intimate friends, and of ſuch ſecrecie, as (I know) you will not reueale
it to any. True it is, that mine honeſt neighbor and my ſelfe,
do leade our liues in ſuch merry manner as you ſee, and better then
all the world is aware of, for I cannot imagine you to bee ſo ignorant,
but are certainly perſwaded: that if we had no better means,
then our poore manuall trade and profeſſion; we might ſit at home
with bread and water, and be nothing ſo liuely ſpirited as wee are.
Yet Sir, I would not haue you to conceiue, that wee do eyther rob
or ſteale, or vſe any other vnlawfull courſes: onely we trauayle to
Corſica, from whence we bring (without the leaſt preiudice to anie
other) all things we ſtand in need of, or whatſoeuer wee can deſire.
Thus do we maintaine our ſelues well and honeſtly, and liue in this
mirthfull diſpoſition.
Maſter Doctor hearing this Diſcourſe, and beleeuing it conſtantly,
without any further inſtruction or intelligence: became poſſeſſed
with verie much admiration, and had the moſt earneſt deſire in
the world, to know what this Trauailing to Corſica might meane:
entreating Bruno with very great inſtances, to tell him what it
was, and made many proteſtations neuer to diſcloſe it to anie one.
How now Maſter Doctor? anſwered Bruno, What a ſtrange motion
do you make to mee? It is too great a ſecret, which you deſire
to know, yea, a matter of mine owne ruine, and an vtter expulſion
out of this Worlde, with condemnation into the mouth of
Lucifer da San Gallo, if any man whatſoeuer ſhould know it from
me, wherefore I pray you to vrge it no more. O my deer and honeſt
neighbour Bruno (quoth the Doctor) aſſure thy ſelfe vpon my ſoul,
that whatſoeuer thou reuealeſt to me, ſhall be vnder ſeale from all,
but onely our ſelues. Fie, fie Maſter Doctor, anſwered Bruno, you
are too preſſing and importunate. So ſitting ſmiling to himſelfe, ſhaking
his head, and beating his breaſt, as if hee were in ſome ſtraunge
diſtraction of minde, ſtamping with his feete, and beating his Fiſte
oftentimes on the Table, at laſt he ſtarted vppe, and ſpake in this
manner.
Ah Maſter Doctor, the loue I beare to your capricious and rarely
circumciſed experience, and likewiſe the confidence I repoſe in
your ſcrutinous taciturnitie, are both of ſuch mighty and preuailing
power; as I cannot conceale any thing from you, which you couet
to know. And therefore, if you wil ſweare vnto me by the croſſe of
Monteſon, that neuer (as you haue already faithfully promiſed) you
will diſcloſe a ſecret ſo admirable; I will relate it vnto you, and not
otherwiſe. The Doctor ſware, and ſware againe, and then Bruuo
thus began.
Know then my learned and iudicious Doctor, that it is not long
time ſince, when there liued in this Citie of ours, a man very excellent
in the Art of Nigromancie, who named himſelfe Michale Scoto,
becauſe he was a Scottiſhman borne, of many woorthy Gentlemen
(very few of them being now liuing) hee was much honoured
and reſpected. When he grew deſirous to depart from hence, vpon
their earneſt motion and entreaty; he left here two of his Schollers
behinde him, men of abſolute skill and experience: giuing them
eſpecial charge and command, to do all poſſible ſeruices they could
deuiſe, for thoſe Gentlemen who had ſo highly honoured him. The
two famous Schollers, were very helpefull to thoſe Gentlemen, in
diuers of their amorous occaſions, and verie many other matters
beſides.
Not long after, they finding the Citie, and behauiour of the people
ſufficiently pleaſing to them; they reſolued on their continuance
heere, entering into a league of loue and friendſhippe with diuers,
neuer regarding, whether they were Gentlemen, or no, or diſtinguiſhing
the poore from the rich: but only in being conforme to
their complexions, ſociable and fit for friendſhip.
They created a kinde Society, conſiſting of about fiue and twenty
men, who ſhould meete together twice in a moneth, & in a place
reputed conueuient for them: where being ſo aſſembled, euery man
vttered his minde to thoſe two Schollers, in ſuch caſes as they moſt
deſired, to haue wherwith they were all ſatisfied the ſelf-ſame night.
It came ſo to paſſe, that Buffalmaco and I, grew into acquaintance
with thoſe two worthy Schollers, and our priuate familiarity together
proued ſo proſperous, that we were admitted into the ſame Society,
and ſo haue euer ſince continued. Now Sir, I am to tell you
matter deſeruing admiration, & which (in very good iudgements)
would ſeeme to exceed all beleefe.
For, at euery time when we were aſſembled together: you are
not able to imagine, what ſumptuous hangings of Tapiſtrie, did adorne
the Hall where we ſate at meate, the Tables couered in ſuch
Royall manner, waited on by numberleſſe Noble and goodly attendants,
both Women and Men, ſeruing readily, at each mans
command of the company. The Baſins, Ewers, Pots, Flaggons, &
all the veſſels elſe which ſtood before, and for the ſeruice of our diet,
being compoſed onely of Gold and Siluer, and out of no worſe did
we both eate and drinke: the viands being very rare and dainty, abounding
in plenty and variety, according to the appetite of euerie
perſon, as nothing could be wiſhed for, but it was inſtantly obtained.
In good ſadneſſe Sir, I am not able to remember and tell you
(within the compaſſe of a thouſand yeares) what, and how manie
ſeuerall kindes of Muſicall Inſtruments, were continually played on
before vs; what multiplicity of Waxe lights burned in all partes of
the roomes; neither the exceſſiue ſtore of rich Drugs, Marchpanes,
Comfites, and rare Banquetting ſtuffe, conſumed there at one Feaſting,
wherein there wanted no bounty of the beſt and pureſt wines.
Nor do I (Maſter Doctor) repute you ſo weakly witted, as to think,
that in the time of our being thus aſſembled there, any of vs al were
cloathed in ſuch ſimple and meane Garments, as ordinarily are
worne in the ſtreets on mens bodies, or any ſo ſilly as the verie beſt
you haue: No Sir, not any one man among vs, but appeared by his
apparrell, equall to the greateſt Emperour on the earth, his robe
moſt ſumptuouſly imbroidered with precious ſtones, Pearles, and
Carbuncles, as all the world affoordeth not the like. But aboue all
the reſt, the delights and pleaſures there, are beyond my capacity to
expreſſe, or (indeede) any compariſon: as namely, ſtore of goodly
and beautifull women, brought thither from all parts of the world;
alwayes prouided, if men bee deſirous of their company: but for
your eaſier comprehenſion, I will make ſome briefe relation of them
to you, according as I heard them there named.
There is the great Lady of Barbanicchia; the Queene of Baſchia;
the Wife to the great Soldane, the Empreſſe of Osbeccho; the Ciancianfera
of Norniera; the Semiſtante of Berlinzona; and the Scalpedra
of Narſia. But why do I breake my braine, in numbering vp ſo
many to you? All the Queenes of the world are there, euen ſo farre
as to the Schinchimurra of Preſter Iohn, that hath a horne in the
midſt of her poſteriores, albeit not viſible to euery eye.
Now I am further to tell you, that after we haue taſted a Cup of
precious Wine, fed on a few delicate Comfits, and danced a dance
or two to the rare Muſicke: euery one taketh a Lady by the hand,
of whom he pleaſeth to make his election, and ſhe conducteth him
to her Chamber, in very graue and gracious manner. Concerning
the Chambers there, each of them reſembleth a Paradiſe to looke
on, they are ſo faire and goodly; and no leſſe odorifferous in ſmell,
then the ſweeteſt perfumes in your Apothecaries ſhoppes, or the
rare compounds of Spices, when they are beaten in an open Morter.
And as for the Beds, they are infinitely richer, then the verie
coſtlieſt belonging to the Duke of Venice: yet (in ſuch) each man is
appointed to take his reſt, the Muſicke of rare Cymbals laſting all
night long, much better to be by you conſidered, then in my rude
eloquence expreſſed.
But of all thoſe rich and ſumptuous Beds (if pride of mine owne
opinion do not deceiue me) them two prouided for Buffalmaco and
me, had hardly any equall: he hauing the Queene of France as his
Lady and Miſtreſſe, and I, the renowned Queene of England, the
onely two choiſe beauties of the whole World, and wee appeared
ſo pleaſing in their eyes, as they would haue refuſed the greateſt
Monarkes on the earth, rather then to bee reiected by vs. Now
therefore, you may eaſily conſider with your ſelfe, what great reaſon
we haue to liue more merrily, then any other men can doe: in
regard we enioy the gracious fauour of two ſuch Royall Queenes,
receyuing alſo from them (whenſoeuer wee pleaſe to commaund
them) a thouſand or two thouſand Florines at the leaſt, which are
both truly and duly ſent vs. Enioying thus the benefit of this high
happineſſe, we that are companions of this Society, do tearme it in
our vulgar Language, The Pyrats voyage to Corſica. Becauſe, as
Rouers or Pyrats robbe and take away the goodes of ſuch as they
meete withall, euen ſo do we: only there remaineth this difference
betweene vs, that they neuer reſtore what they haue taken: which
we do immediately afterward, whether it be required or no. And
thus Maſter Doctor, as to my moſt endeered friend, I haue now reuealed
the meaning of ſayling to Corſica, after the manner of our
priuate Pyracie, and how important the cloſe retention of the voiage
is, you are beſt able your ſelfe to iudge: In which regarde, remember
your Oathes and faithfull promiſes, or elſe I am vndone
for euer.
Our worthy wiſe Doctor, whoſe beſt skill ſcarſely extended ſo
farre, as to cure the itch in Children; gaue ſuch ſound beleefe to
the relation of Bruno, as any man could doe, to the moſt certaine
truth of life or death: hauing his deſire immeaſurably enflamed,
to bee made a member of this ſtraunge Societie, which hee more
coueted, then any thing in the world beſide, accounting it a felicity
farre beyond all other.
Whereupon he anſwered Bruno, that it was no great matter of
meruaile, if he liued ſo merily as he did, hauing ſuch a ſingular ſupply,
to auoide all neceſſities whatſoeuer: and very hardly could he
refraine from immediate requeſt, to be accepted into the company.
But yet he thought fit to deferre it further, vntill he had made Bruno
more beholding to him, by friendly entertainments and other
courteſies, when he might (with better hope) be bold to moue the
motion.
Well may you conceiue, that nothing more hammerd in the Doctors
head, then this rare voyage to Corſica, and Bruno was his daily
gueſt at dinner and ſupper, with ſuch extraordinary apparances
of kindneſſe and courteſie, as if the Phyſitian could not liue, except
he had the company of Bruno. Who ſeeing himſelfe to bee ſo louingly
reſpected, and hating ingratitude, for fauours ſo abundantly
heaped on him: hee painted the whole ſtory of Lent about his
Hall, and an Agnus Dei fairely gilt, on the portall of his Chamber,
as alſo a goodly Vrinall on his ſtreet doore, to the end, that ſuch as
had neede of his counſell, might know where ſo iudicious a Doctour
dwelt. In a Gallery likewiſe by his Garden, he painted the furious
Battaile betweene the Rats and Cats, which did (not a little) delight
Maſter Doctor.
Moreouer, at ſuch times as Bruno had not ſupt with our Phyſitian,
he would bee ſure to tell him on the morrow, that the night paſſed,
he had bin with the Company which he did wot of. And there
(quoth he) the Queene of England hauing ſomewhat offended mee,
I commanded, that the Gomedra, belonging to the Grand Cham of
Tartaria, ſhould be brought me, and inſtantly ſhee was. What
may be the meaning of Gomedrabe? ſaide the Doctor, I vnderſtand
not thoſe difficult names. I beleeue you Sir, anſwered Bruno, nor
do I need to maruaile thereat: and yet I haue heard Porcograſſo
ſpeake, and alſo Vannacenna, and both vnexperienced in our Language.
You would ſay (replyed the Doctor) Hippocrates and Auicenna,
who were two admirable Phyſitians. It may be ſo (ſaid Bruno)
& as hardly do I vnderſtand your names, as you mine: but Gomedra,
in the Grand Chams language, ſignifies Empreſſe in ours. But
had you once ſeene her Sir, ſhe would make you forget all Phyſicall
obſeruations, your arguments, receits and medicines, onely to be in
her heauenly preſence, which words he vſed (perceiuing his forward
longing) to enflame him the more. Not long after, as the doctor was
holding the candle to Bruno, at the perfecting the bloody Bat
•
ayle
of the Cattes and Rattes, becauſe he could neuer bee wearied in his
Companie, and therefore was the more willing, to vndergoe the
office of the Candle-holder: he reſolued to acquaint him with his
minde, and being all alone by themſelues, thus be began.
Bruno, as heauen knoweth, there is not this day any creature liuing,
for whom I would gladly do more, then for thee, and the very
leaſt word of thy mouth, hath power to commaund mee to goe
bare-footed, euen from hence ſo farre as to Peretola, and account
my labour well employed for thy ſake: wherefore, neuer wonder
at my continuall kindneſſe towards thee, vſing thee as my Domeſticke
companion, and embracing thee as my boſome friend, and
therefore I am the bolder in moouing one requeſt vnto thee. As
thou well knoweſt, it is no long while ſince, when thou diddeſt acquaint
me with the behauiour of the Corſicane Rouing Company,
to be one in ſo rare and excellent a Society, ſuch hath bin my earneſt
longing euer ſince, as day nor night haue I enioyed anie reſt,
but ſhould thinke my felicity beyond all compare, if I could be entertained
in fellowſhip among you.
Nor is this deſire of mine but vpon great occaſion, as thou thy
ſelfe ſhalt perceiue, if I proue accepted into your Societie, and let
me then be made a mocking ſtocke for euer, if I cauſe not to come
thither, one of the moſt delicate young women, that euer anie eye
beheld, and which I my ſelfe ſaw (not aboue a yeare ſince) at Cacauinciglia,
on whom I beſtowed my intireſt affection, and (by the
beſt Vrinall that euer I gazed on) would haue giuen her tenne faire
Bologninaes, to yeeld the matter I moued to her, which yet I could
not (by any meanes) compaſſe. Therefore, with all the flowing faculties
of my ſoule I entreate thee, and all the very vttermoſt of my
all indeede; to inſtruct me in thoſe wayes and meanes, whereby I
may hope to be a member of you. Which if thou dooeſt accompliſh
for me, and I may finde it effectually performed: I ſhall not
onely be thy true and loyall friend for euer, but will honour thee
beſide, beyond all men liuing.
I know thee to bee a man of iudgement, deepely informed in all
well-grounded experience: thou ſeeſt what a propper, portly, and
comely man I am, how fitly my legges are anſwerable to my body,
my lookes amiable, louely, and of Roſie colour: beſide I am a Doctor
of Phyſicke, of which profeſſion (being only moſt expedient)
I thinke you haue not one in your Society. I haue many commendable
qualities in me, as, playing on diuers inſtruments, exquiſite in
ſinging, and compoſing rare ditties, whereof I will inſtantly ſing
thee one. And ſo he began to ſing.
Bruno was ſwolne ſo bigge with deſire of laughter, that hee had
ſcarſely any power to refraine from it: neuertheleſſe, he made the
beſt meanes he could deuiſe: and the Song being ended, the Phyſition
ſaide. How now Bruno? What is thine opinion of my ſinging?
Beleeue me Sir, replyed Bruno, the Vialles of Sagginali, will
looſe their very beſt times, in contending againſt you, ſo mirilifficially
are the ſweet accents of your voice heard. I tell thee truly Bruno
(anſwered Maſter Doctor) thou couldſt not by any poſſibility haue
beleeued it, if thou hadſt not heard it. In good ſadnes Sir (ſaid Bruno)
you ſpeake moſt truly. I could (quoth the Doctor) ſing thee infinite
more beſide, but at his time I muſt forbeare them. Let mee
then further informe thee Bruno, that beſide the compleat perfections
thou ſeeſt in me, my father was a Gentleman, althogh he dwelt
in a poore Country village, and by my mothers ſide, I am deriued
from them of Vallecchio. Moreouer, as I haue formerly ſhewn thee,
I haue a goodly Library of Bookes, yea, and ſo faire and coſtly garments,
as few Phyſitians in Florence haue the like. I proteſt to thee
vpon my faith, I haue one gowne, which coſt me (in readie money)
almoſt an hundred poundes in Bagattinoes, and it is not yet aboue
ten yeares old. Wherefore let me preuaile with thee, good Bruno,
to worke ſo with the reſt of thy friends, that I may bee one of your
ſingular Society; and, by the honeſt truſt thou repoſeſt in mee, bee
boldly ſick whenſoeuer thou wilt, my paines and Phyſicke ſhall be
freely thine, without the payment of one ſingle peny. Bruno hearing
his importunate words, and knowing him (as all men elſe did
beſide) to be a man of more words then wit, ſaide. Maſter Doctor,
ſnuffe the candle I pray you, and lend me a little more light with it
hitherward, vntil I haue finiſhed the tailes of theſe Rats, and then I
wil anſwer you.
When the Rats tailes were fully finiſhed, Bruno declaring by outward
behauiour, that he greatly diſtaſted the matter mooued, thus
anſwered. Worthy Maſter Doctor, the courteſies you haue already
extended towards me, and the bountifull fauours promiſed beſide,
I know to be exceeding great, and farre beyond the compaſſe
of any merit in me. But concerning your requeſt, albeit in reſpect
of your admired braine and Wiſedome, it is of little or no moment
at all; yet it appeareth ouer-mighty to mee, and there is not
any man now liuing in the world, that hath the like Authoritie ouer
me, and can more commaund me, then you (with one poore
ſyllable) eaſily may doe: as well in regarde of my Loue and Dutie,
as alſo your ſingular and ſententious ſpeeches, able not onelie
to make me breake a ſound and ſetled reſolution, but (almoſt) to
moue Mountaines out of their places, and the more I am in your
Learned company, ſo much the faſter am I lincked vnto you, in
immooueable affection, ſo farre am I in loue with your admirable
qualities. And had I no other reaſon, to affect you in ſuch endeared
manner, as I doe; yet becauſe you are enamoured of
ſo rare a beauty, as you haue already related to me, it onely were a
motiue ſufficient to compell me. But indeed I muſt need tell you,
that I haue not ſo much power in this caſe, as you (perhaps) do imagine,
which barreth me from ſuch forward readines, as otherwiſe
needed not to be vrged. Neuertheleſſe, hauing ſo ſolemnly ingaged
your faith to me, and no way misdoubting your faithfull ſecrecy, I
ſhall inſtruct you in ſome meanes to be obſerued; and it appeareth
plainly to me, that being furniſhed with ſuch plenty of Bookes, as
you are, and other rich endowments, as you haue before reherſed,
you cannot but attaine to the full period of your longing deſire.
Speake boldly thy minde Bruno, anſwered the Doctour: for, I
perceiue thou haſt no perfect knowledge of me as yet, neither what
an eſpeciall gift I haue of ſecrecy. Meſſer Gaſparino da Salicete, when
he was Iudge and Poteſtat ouer the people of Forlini, made choiſe
of mee (among infinite of his deareſt friends) to acquaint with a ſecret
of no meane moment. And ſuch a faithfull Secretary he found
me, as I was the onely man, that knew his mariage with Bergamino;
why then ſhould any diſtruſt be made of me? If it be ſo as you ſay
Sir (anſwered Bruno) your credit is the ſounder, and I dare the better
aduenture on your fidelity: the meanes then which you are to
worke by, I ſhall now direct you in.
We haue alwayes in this noble Society of ours, a Captaine, and
two Counſellors, which are changed at euery ſix months end. And
now at Chriſtmas next (ſo neere drawing on) Buffalmaco ſhal be elected
Captaine, and my ſelfe one of the Counſellers, for ſo it is already
agreed on, and orderly ſet downe. Now, he that is Captain,
may doe much more then any other can, and appoint matters as
himſelfe pleaſeth, Wherefore I thinke it very expedient, that ſo
ſoone as poſſibly you may, you procure acquaintance with Buffalmaco,
entreating him with all reſpectiue courteſie. Hee is a man,
who when he perceyueth you to be ſo wonderfully Wiſe and diſcreete,
he will be immediatly in loue with you: ſo, when you haue
your beſt ſenſes about you, and your richeſt wearing Garments
on (alwayes remembred, that your acquaintance firſt be fully confirmed)
then neuer feare to vrge your requeſt, for he can haue no
power at all to denie you; becauſe I haue already ſpoken of you
to him, and find him to ſtand affected vnto you verie intirely: thus
when you haue begunne the buſineſſe, leaue me to deale with him
in the reſt.
Now truſt me kinde friend Bruno, replyed the Phyſitian, I like
your aduice exceeding well. For, if hee be a man, that taketh delight
to conuerſe with men of skill and iudgement, and you haue
made the way for his knowing me: he wil him thirſt, and long to
follow after mee, to vnderſtand the incredible eloquence flowing
from me, and the rare compoſition of my Muſicall Ditties, out of
which he may learne no meane wiſedome. When the matter was
thus agreed on betweene them, Bruno departed thence, & acquainted
Buffalmaco with euerie circumſtance: which made him thinke
euerie day a yeare, vntill he might ioyne in the fooling of Mayſter
Doctour, according to his owne fancie. Who beeing alſo as
deſirous on the other ſide, to make one in the Corſicane Voyage;
could take no manner of reſt either by day or night, till he was linked
in friendſhip with Buffalmaco, which very quickely after hee
compaſſed.
For now there wanted no coſtly dinners and ſuppers, with al delicates
could be deuiſed, for the entertainement of Buffalmaco and
Bruno; who, like Gueſts very eaſie to be inuited, where rich wines
and good cheare are neuer wanting) needed little ſending for, be-becauſe
his houſe was as familiar to them, as their owne. In the
end, when the Phyſitian eſpyed an opportunitie apt for the purpoſe,
he made the ſame requeſt to Buffalmaco, as formerly hee had
done to Bruno. Whereat Buffalmaco, ſodainly ſtarting, and looking
frowningly on Bruno, as if he were extraordinarily incenſed againſt
him: clapping his hand furiouſly on the Table, he ſayde. I
ſweare by the great God of Paſignano, that I can hardly refrayne
from giuing thee ſuch a blow on the face, as ſhould make thy Noſe
to fall at thy heeles: vile Traitor as thou art: for none beſide thy
ſelfe, could diſcouer ſo rare and excellent a ſecret vnto this famous
Phyſitian. The Doctour, vvith verie plauſible and pleaſing
tearmes, excuſed the matter verie artificially; proteſting, that another
had reuealed it vnto him: and after many wiſe circumſtantiall
Allegations, at length hee preuailed ſo farre, that Buffalmaco
was pacified; who afterwardes turning in kinde manner, thus hee
beganne.
Maſter Doctour, you haue liued both at Bologna, and heere in
theſe partes with vs, hauing (no doubt) ſufficiently vnderſtoode,
what it is to carry a cloſe mouth, I meane the true Charracter of taciturnitie.
Queſtionleſſe, you neuer learned the A. B. C. as now
fooliſh Ideots do, blabbing their leſſons all about the towne, which
is much better apprehended by rumination; and ſurely (if I be not
much deceyued) your Natiuity happened on a Sonday morning,
Sol being at that time, Lord of the aſcendent, ioyned with Mercurie
in a fierie Triplicitie. By ſuch conference as I haue had with
Bruno, I conceyued (as he himſelfe alſo did) that you were verie
ſingular in Phyſicke onely: but it ſeemeth, your Studies reached
a higher ſtraine, for you haue learned, and know verie skilfullie,
how to ſteale mens hearts from them, yea, to bereaue them of
their verie ſoules, which I perceyue that you can farre better doe,
then any man elſe liuing to my knowledge, only by your wiſe, witty,
iudicious, and more then meere Mercurian eloquence, ſuch as I
neuer heard before.
The Phyſitian interrupting him baſhfully, turned himſelfe vnto
Bruno, ſaying. Did not I tell thee this before? Obſerue what a notable
thing it is, to ſpeake well, and to frequent the company of the
Wiſe. A thouſand other, meerely blockes and dullardes by Nature,
could neuer ſo ſoone comprehend all the particularities of my
knowledge, as this honeſt and apprehenſiue man hath done. Thou
didſt not ſearch into it halfe ſo ſoone, nor (indeed) did I expreſſe a
quarter of my ingenuity to thee, as (ſince his comming) hath prodigally
flowne from me.
Well do I remember thy words, that Buffalmaco delighted to be
among men of Wiſedome: and haue I not now fitted him vnto his
owne deſire? How thinkeſt thou Bruno? The beſt (quoth Bruno)
that any man liuing in the World could do. Ah worthy Buffalmaco,
anſwered the Phyſitian: What wouldſt thou then haue ſayde, if
thou hadſt ſeene me at Bologna, where there was neyther great nor
ſmall, Doctor nor Scholler, but thought themſelues happy by being
in my company? If I ought any debts, I diſcharged them with
my very wittie words: and whenſoeuer I ſpake, I could ſet them al
on a hearty laughter, ſo much pleaſure they tooke in hearing mee.
And when I departed thence, no men in the world could bee more
ſorrowfull then they, as deſiring nothing more then my remayning
among them; which they expreſſed ſo apparantly, that they made
humble ſuite and interceſſion to me, to bee cheefe Reader of the
Phyſicke-Lecture, to all the Schollers ſtudying our profeſſion. But
I could not be ſo perſwaded, becauſe my minde was wholly addicted
hither, to enioy thoſe Goods, Landes, and Inheritances, belonging
lineally to them of our houſe, and accordingly I did performe
it.
How now Buffalmaco (quoth Bruno) what is thine opinion now?
Thou wouldſt not beleeue me when I told thee, that there is not a
Doctor in all theſe parts, more skilfull in diſtinguiſhing the Vrine
of an Aſſe, from any other, then this moſt expert and ſingular man:
and I dare boldly maintaine it, that his fellow is not to bee found,
from hence to the very gates of Paris. Go then, and doe the vttermoſt
endeauour that thou canſt, to grant the requeſt which he hath
made.
Beleeue me Buffalmaco, ſaide the Doctor, Bruno hath ſpoken nothing
but truth, for I am ſcarſely knowne heere in this City, where
(for the moſt part) they are all groſſe-wit
•
ed people, rather then any
iot iudicious: but I would thou hadſt ſeene me among the Doctors,
in manner as I was wont to be. Introth Sir, replyed Buffalmaco,
you are much more Learned then euer I imagined, in which
reſpect, ſpeaking vnto you as it becommeth me, to a man ſo excellent
in wit and vnderſtanding: I dare aſſure you, that (without any
faile) I wil procure you to be one of our Company.
After this promiſe thus made, the good chea
•
e, fauors and kindneſſes
done by the Doctor to them, was beyond the compaſſe of all
relation: whereof they made no more then a meere mockery, flouting
him to his face, and yet his Wiſedome could not diſcerne it.
Moreouer, they promiſed, that they would giue him to Wife, the
faire Counteſſe di Ciuillari, who was the onely goodlieſt creature
to be found in the whole Culattario of humane generation. The
Doctor demanded, what Counteſſe that was? Oh Sir, anſwered
Buffalmaco, ſhe is a great Lady, one worthy to haue iſſue by; and
few houſes are there in the world, where ſhe hath not ſome iuriſdiction
and command: ſo that not meane people onely, but euen the
greateſt Lords, at the ſound of her Trumpets, do very gladlie pay
her tribute. And I dare boldly affirme, that whenſoeuer ſhee walketh
to any place, ſhe yeeldeth a hot and ſenſible ſauour, albeit ſhe
keepeth moſt of all cloſe. Yet once euery night, ſhee duely obſerueth
it (as a Cuſtome) to paſſe from her owne houſe, to bathe her
feete in the Riuer of Arno, and take a little of the ſweeter Ayre:
albeit her continuall reſidencie, is within the Kingdome of Laterino.
She ſeldome walketh abroad, but goeth with her attending Officers
about her, who (for more demonſtration of her greatneſſe) do
carry the Rod and plummet of Lead. Store of her Lords and Barons
are euery where to be ſeene; as the Tamagnino della porta, Don
Meta di Sirropa; Manico di Scopa; Signior Squacchera, and others
beſide, who are (as I ſuppoſe) oftentimes your daily viſitants, when
of neceſſity they muſt be remembred. All our care and courteſie
ſhall extend ſo farre (if we doe not faile in our enterprize) to leaue
you in the armes of ſo Maieſtick a Ladie, quite forgetting hir of Cacauinciglia.
The Phyſitian, who was borne and brought vp at Bologna, and
therefore vnderſtoode not theſe Florentine tearmes: became fully
contented to enioy the Ladie; and, within ſome few dayes following,
the Painters brought him tydings, that they had prepared the
way for his entertainment into the Societie of Rouers. The day
being come, when the ſuppoſed aſſembly was to be made the night
following: the Phyſitian inuited them both to dinner; when he demanding,
what prouiſion he ſhold make for his entrance into their
company, Buffalmaco returned him this anſwer, whereto hee gaue
very heedfull attention.
Maſter Doctor, you muſt be firſt of all, ſtrongly armed with reſolution
and confidence: for, if you be not, you may not only receyue
hindrance, but alſo do vs great harme beſide: and now you
ſhall heare, in what manner, and how you are to be bold and conſtant.
You muſt procure the meanes, this inſtant night, when all
the people are in their ſoundeſt ſleepe, to ſtand vpon one of thoſe
high exalted Tombs or Monuments, which are in the Churchyard
of Santa Maria Nouella, with the very faireſt gowne you haue about
you, becauſe you may appeare in the more honorable condition,
before the aſſembly ſeated together, and likewiſe to make good
our ſpeeches already deliuered of you, concerning your qualitie &
profeſſion: that the Counteſſe, perceyuing you to bee a woorthie
Gentleman, may haue you firſt honoured with the Bathe, and afterward
Knighted at her owne coſt and charge. But you muſt continue
ſtil vpon the Tombe (dreadleſſe of nightly apparitions & viſions)
vntill ſuch time as we ſend for you.
And for your better information in euery particulare; a Beaſt,
blacke and horned, but of no great ſtature, will come to fetch you:
perhaps he will vſe ſome gaſtly noiſes, ſtraunge leapes, and loftie
trickes, onely to terrifie and affright you: but when he perceiueth
that he cannot daunt you, hee will gently come neere you, which
when he hath done, you may deſcend from off the Tombe; and,
without naming or thinking on God, or any of his Saintes, mount
boldly on his backe, for he will ſtand ready to receiue you. Being
ſo ſeated, croſſe your armes ouer your breſt, without preſuming to
touch or handle the Beaſt, for he will carry you thence ſoftly, and
ſo bring you along to the company. But if in all this time of your
trauaile, you call on heauen, any Saint, or bee poſſeſſed with the
leaſt thought of feare: I muſt plainely tell you, that either hee will
caſt you dangerouſly, or throw you into ſome noyſom place. And
therefore, if you know your ſelfe, not to be of a conſtant courage,
and ſprightly bold, to vndertake ſuch an aduenture as this: neuer
preſume any further, becauſe you may doe vs a great deale of iniurie,
without any gaine or benefite to your ſelfe, but rather ſuch
wrong, as we would be very ſorry ſhould happen happen vnto ſo deere a
Friend.
Alas honeſt Buffalmaco, anſwered the Phyſitian, thou art not halfe
acquainted with me as yet: becauſe I walke with gloues vpon my
hands, and in a long Gowne, thou perhappes doeſt imagine mee a
faint-hearted fellow. If thou didſt know, what I haue heeretofore
done at Bologna in the night time, when I and my Conſorts went
to viſite pretty wenches, thou wouldſt wonder at my couragious
attempts. As I am a Gentleman, one night, we met with a young
Bona Roba, a paltry greene-ſickneſſe baggage, ſcarſely aboue a Cubite
in height, & becauſe ſhe refuſed to go with vs willingly, I gaue
her a kicke on the bum, and ſpurnde her more then a Croſſe-bowe
ſhoote in diſtance from me, and made her walke with vs whether
ſhe would, or no. Another time I remember, when hauing no other
company but my boy, I went thorow the Churchyard of the
Fryars Minors, after the ſounding of Aue Maria: a woman hadde
beene buried there the very ſame day, and yet I was not a iotte affraid.
Wherefore, neuer be diſtruſtfull of mee, but reſoluedly builde
vpon my courage. And in regard of my more honourable entertainment,
I will then weare my Scarlet Gowne and Hood, wherein
I receyued my graduation; and then do both of you obſerue, what
a reioycing will be among the whole company, at the entertaining
of ſuch as a man as I am, enough to create me Captaine immediatly.
You ſhall perceiue alſo how the caſe will go, after I haue beene
there but a while, in regard that the Counteſſe (hauing as yet neuer
ſeene me) is ſo deepely enamored of mee: ſhe cannot chooſe but
beſtow the Bathe and Knight-hood on me, which ſhee ſhall haue
the more honour of, in regard I am well able to maintaine it, therefore
referre all the reſt to mee, and neuer miſdoubt your iniurie or
mine.
Spoken like a Gallant, replyed Buffalmaco, and I feare not now,
but we ſhall winne credite by your company. But be carefull I pray
you, that you make not a mockery of vs, and come not at all, or
fayle to be there, when the Beaſt ſhall be ſent for you; I ſpeake it
the rather, becauſe it is cold weather, and you Gentlemen Phyſitians
can hardly endure it. You are carefull of mee (quoth the Doctor)
and I thanke you for it, but I applaud my faire Starres, I am
none of your nice or eaſie-frozen fellowes, becauſe cold weather is
very familiar to me. I dare aſſure you, when I ariſe in the night time
for that naturall office whereto all men are ſubiect, I weare no warmer
defence, then my thin waſtcoat ouer my ſhirt, and finde it ſufficient
for the coldeſt weather at any time.
When Bruno and Buffalmaco had taken their leaue, the Phyſitian,
ſo ſoone as night drew neere, vſed many apt excuſes to his wife,
ſtealing forth his Scarlet Gowne and Hood vnſeene of any, wherewith
being clothed: at the time appointed, he got vpon one of the
Marble Tombes, ſtaying there (quaking with cold) awaiting when
the Beaſt ſhould come. Buffalmaco, being a luſty tall man of perſon,
had got an vgly masking ſuite, ſuch as are made vſe of in Tragedies
and Playes, the out-ſide being of black ſhagged haire, wherwith
being cloathed, he ſeemed like a ſtrange deformed Beare, and
a Diuels vizard ouer his face, with two gaſtly horrible hornes, and
thus diſguiſed, Bruno following him, they went to behold the iſſue
of the buſineſſe, ſo farre as the new Market place, cloſely adioining
to Santa Maria Nouella.
Hauing eſpyed Maſter Doctor vppon the Tombe, Buffalmaco in
his miſhapen habite, began to bound, leape, and carriere, ſnuffling
and blowing in mad and raging manner: which when the Phyſitian
ſaw, his haire ſtood on end, he quaked and trembled, as being
more fearfull then a Woman, wiſhing himſelfe at home againe in
his houſe, rather then to behold a ſight ſo dreadfull. But becauſe he
was come forth, and had ſuch an earneſt deſire, to ſee the wonders
related to him; he made himſelfe ſo coragious as poſſibly he could,
and bare all out in formall manner. After that Buffalmaco had (an
indifferent while) plaide his horſe-trickes, ramping and ſtamping
ſomewhat ſtrangely: ſeeming as become of much milder temper,
he went neere to the Tomb whereon the Phyſitian ſtood, and there
appeared to ſtay contentedly.
Maſter Doctor, trembling and quaking ſtill extreamely, was ſo
farre diſmayed, as he knew not what was beſt to be done, either to
mount on the beaſts backe, or not to mount at all. In the end, thinking
no harme could happen to him, if he were once mounted, with
the ſecond feare, hee expelled the former, and deſcending downe
ſoftly from the Tombe, mounted on the beaſt, ſaying out a lowde:
God, Saint Dominicke, and my good Angell helpe to defend mee.
Seating himſelfe ſo well as he could, but trembling ſtill exceedingly;
he croſſed his armes ouer his ſtomacke, according to the Leſſon
giuen him.
Then did Buffalmaco ſhape his courſe in milde manner, toward
Santa Maria della Scala, and groping to finde his way in the darke,
went on ſo farre as the Siſters of Ripole, commonly called the Virgin
Sanctuary. Not farre off from thence, were diuers trenches &
ditches, wherein ſuch men as are imployed in neceſſary night-ſeruices,
vſed to empty the Counteſſe di Cimillari, and afterward imployed
it for manuring Husbandmens grounds. Buffalmaco, being
come neere one of them, he ſtayed to breath himſelfe awhile, and
then catching faſt hold on one of the Doctours feete, rayſed him
ſomewhat higher on his back, for the eaſier diſcharging of his burthen,
and ſo pitched him (with his head forwardes) into the Layſtall.
Then began he to make a dreadful kinde of noiſe, ſtamping and
trampling with his feete, paſſing backe againe to Santa Maria della
Scala, and to Prato d'Ogniſſanti, where hee met with Bruno, who
was conſtrained to forſake him, becauſe he could not refraine from
lowde Laughter, then both together went backe once more, to ſee
how the Phyſitian would behaue himſelfe, being ſo ſweetely embrued.
Maſter Doctor, ſeeing himſelfe to ben in ſuch an abhominable
ſtinking place, laboured with all his vtmoſt endeuou
•
, to get himſelf
releaſed thence: but the more he contended and ſtroue or getting
forth, he plunged himſelfe the further in, being moſt pitifully myred
from head to foot▪ ſighing and ſorrowing extraordinarily, becauſe
much of the foule water ent
•
ed in at his mouth. In the end,
being forced to leaue his hood behinde him, ſcr
•
mbling both with
his hands and feet, he got landing out of his ſtinking Labyrinth, &
hauing no other means, home he returned to his own houſe, where
knocking at the doore, he was at length admitted entrance. The
doore being ſcarſe made faſt againe after his letting in, Buffalmaco
and Bruno were there arriued, liſtning how M. Doctor ſhould bee
welcomd home by his angry wife: who ſcolding and railing at him
with wonderfull impatience, gaue him moſt hard and bitter ſpeeches,
terming him the vileſt man liuing.
Where haue you bin Sir? quoth ſhe. Are you becom a night-walker
after other Women? And could no worſe garments ſerue
your turne, but your Doctors gown of Scarlet? Am I to ſuffer this
behauiour? Or am not I ſufficient to content you, but you muſt be
longing after change? I would thou hadſt bin ſtifled in that foule
filth, where thy fouler life did iuſtly caſt thee. Behold goodly Maſter
Doctor of the Leyſtall, who being maried to an honeſt woman
muſt yet go abroad in the night time, inſatiatly luſting after whores
and harlots. With theſe and the like intemperate ſpeeches, ſhe ceaſed
not to afflict and torment him, till the night was almoſt ſpent,
and the Doctor brought into a ſweeter ſauour.
The next morning, Bruno and Buffalmaco, hauing colourd their
bodyes with a ſtrange kinde of painting, reſembling bliſters, ſwellings,
and bruiſes, as if they had bin extreamly beaten; came to the
Phyſitians houſe, finding him to be newly vp, al the houſe yet ſmelling
of his foule ſauour (although it had bin very well perfumed)
and being admitted to him in the Garden, hee welcommed them
with the mornings ſalutations. But Bruno and Buffalmaco (being otherwiſe
prouided for him) deliuering ſtearne and angry lookes,
ſtamping and chafing, Bruno thus replyed.
Neuer ſpeake ſo faire and flattering to vs, for we are moued beyond
all compaſſe of patience. All misfortunes in the worlde fall
vpon you, and an euill death may you dye, like the moſt falſe and
perfidious Traitor liuing on the earth. We muſt beate our braines,
and moue all our moſt endeared friends, onely for your honor and
aduancement: while wee were well neere ſtarued to death in the
cold like Dogs, and, by your breach of promiſe, haue bin this night
ſo extreamly beaten, as if (like Aſſes) we ſhould haue beene driuen
to Rome.
But that which is moſt greeuous of all, is danger of excluding
out of the Society, where wee tooke good order for your admittance,
and for your moſt honourable entertainment. If you wil not
credit vs, behold our bodies, and let your owne eyes be witneſſes,
in what cruell manner we haue bin beaten. So taking him aſide vnder
the Gallery, where they might not be diſcouered by ouermuch
light, they opened their boſomes, ſhewed him their painted bodies,
and ſodainly cloſed them vp againe.
The Phyſitian laboured to excuſe himſelfe, declaring his misfortunes
at large, and into what a filthy place he was throwne. It maketh
no matter (anſwered Buffalmaco) I would you had bin throwen
from off the Bridge into Arno, where you might haue beene
recommended to the Diuell, and all his Saints. Did not I tell you
ſo much before. In good ſadneſſe (quoth the Doctor) I neyther
commended my ſelfe to God, nor any of his Saints. How? ſayde
Buffalmaco, I am ſure you will maintaine an vntrueth, you vſed a
kinde of recommendation: for our meſſenger told vs, that you talked
of God, S. Dominicke, and your good Angell, whom you deſired
to aſſiſt you, being ſo affrighted with feare, that you trembled
like a leafe vpon a tree, not knowing indeede where you were. Thus
haue you vnfaithfully dealt with vs, as neuer any man ſhall doe the
like againe, in ſeeking honour, and loſing it through your own negligence.
Maſter Doctor humbly entreated pardon, and that they would
not reuile him any more, labouring to appeaſe them by the beſt
words he could vſe, as fearing leaſt they ſhould publiſh this great
diſgrace of him. And whereas (before) he gaue them gracious welcomes;
now he redoubled them with farre greater courteſies, feaſting
them daily at his own table, and euermore delighting in their
company. Thus (as you haue heard) two poore Painters of Florence,
taught Maſter Doctor better Wit, then all the Learned at
Bologna.
A Cicilian Courtezane, named Madame Biancafiore, by her craftie wit and policie, deceiued a young Merchant, called Salabetto, of all the money he had taken for his Wares at Palermo. Afterward, he making ſhew of comming hither againe, with farre richer Merchandiſes then hee brought before: made the meanes to borrow a great ſumme of Money of her, leauing her ſo baſe a pawne, as well requited her for her former cozenage.
The Tenth Nouell.
Whereby appeareth, that ſuch as meet with cunning Harlots, and ſuffer themſelues to be deceiued by them: muſt ſharpen their Wits, to make them requitall in the ſelfeſame kinde.
NEedleſſe it were to queſtion, whether the Nouell related
by the Queene, in diuers paſſages thereof, mooued the
Ladies to hearty laughter, and likewiſe to compaſſionate
ſighes and teares; as pittying Madame Helena in her hard misfortune,
and yet applauding the Scholler for his iuſt reuenge. But
the diſcourſe being ended, Dioneus, who knew it was his Office to
be the laſt ſpeaker euery day, after ſilence was commanded, he began
in this manner.
Worthy Ladies, it is a matter very manifeſt, that deceits do appeare
ſo much the more pleaſing, when (by the ſelfe-ſame meanes)
the ſubtle deceyuer is artificially deceiued. In which reſpect, though
you all haue reported very ſingular deceits: yet I meane to tel you
one, that may proue as pleaſing to you, as any of your owne. And
ſo much the rather, becauſe the woman deceiued, was a great and
cunning Miſtris in beguiling others; equalling (if not excelling) any
of your former beguilers.
It hath bene obſerued heretofore, and (happily) at this very day
it is as frequent, that in all Cities and Townes vpon the Sea-coaſts,
hauing Ports for the benefit and venting Merchandiſes; Merchants
vſe to bring their wealthy laden Veſſels thither. And when they
vnlade any Ship of great fraught, there are prepared Store-houſes,
which in many places are called Magazines or Doganaes, at the
charge of the Communalty, or Lord of the Towne or City, for the
vſe whereof, they receiue yearly gain and benefit. Into thoſe ware-houſes,
they deliuer (vnder writing, and to the owners of them in eſpeciall
charge) all their goods and merchandiſes, of what price or
valew ſoeuer they are.
Such as be the Owners of theſe Magazines, when the Wares are
thus ſtored vppe in them, doe ſafely locke them vp there with their
keyes, hauing firſt regiſtred downe truly all the goods, in the Regiſter
belonging to the Cuſtome-houſe, that the Merchant may haue
a iuſt account rendred him, and the rights payed to the Cuſtome-houſe,
according to the Regiſter, and as they are either in part, or
in all made ſale of.
Brokers are continually there attending, being informed in the
quality of the Merchandiſes ſtored, and likewiſe to what Merchants
they appertaine: by meanes of theſe men, and according as the
goods come to their hands, they deuiſe to haue them exchaunged,
trucked, vented, and ſuch other kinds of diſpatches, anſwerable to
the mens minds, and worth of the Commodities. As in many other
Kingdomes and Countries, ſo was this cuſtome obſerued at
Palermo in Sicily, where likewiſe then were, and (no doubt) now adayes
are, ſtore of Women, faire and comely of perſon, but yet
vowed enemies to honeſty.
Neuertheleſſe, by ſuch as know them not, they are held and reputed
to be blameleſſe Women, and by yeilding their bodyes vnto
generall vſe, are the occaſion of infinite misfortunes to men. For
ſo ſoone as they eſpy a Merchant-ſtranger there arriued, they vvin
information from the Booke belonging to the Magazin, what wares
are therein ſtored, of what valew they bee, and who is the Owner
of them. Afterwards, by amorous actions, and affable ſpeeches,
they allure yong Merchants to take knowledge of them, to bee familiar
in their company, till from ſome they get moſt part of their
wealth, from others all. Nay, diuers haue gone ſo farre, as to make
Port-ſale of Ship, Goods, and Perſon, ſo cunningly they haue bene
ſhauen by theſe Barbers, and yet without any Razor.
It came to paſſe, and no long time ſince, that a young Florentine
of ours, named Niccolo d
•
Cignano, but more vſually called Salabetto,
imployed as Factor for his Maiſter, arriued at Palermo; his
Ship ſtored with many Woollen Cloathes, a remainder of ſuch as
had bin ſold at the Mart of Salerno, amounting in valew to aboue
fiue hundred Florines of Gold. When he had giuen in his packet
to the Cuſtome-houſe, and made them vp ſafe in his Warehouſe;
without making ſhew of deſiring any ſpeedy diſpatch, he delighted
to view all parts of the City, as mens minds are continuallie addicted
to Nouelties. He being a very faire and affable yong man, eaſie
to kindle affection in a very modeſt eie: it fortuned, that a Courtezane,
one of our before remembred ſhauers, who termed hir ſelfe
Madame Biancafiore, hauing heard ſomewhat concerning his affairs,
beganne to dart amorous glances at him. Which the indiſcreete
youth perceyuing, and thinking her to be ſome great Lady: began
alſo to grow halfe perſwaded, that his comely perſon was pleaſing
to her, and therefore he would carrie this good fortune of his ſomewhat
cautelouſly.
Without imparting his mind vnto any one, he would daily paſſe
too and fro before her doore; which ſhe obſeruing, and hauing indifferently
wounded him with her wanton piercing lookes: ſhe began
to vſe the firſt tricke of her Trade, by pretending her enflamed
affection towards him, which made her pine and conſume away in
care, except he might be moued to pitty her. Whereupon, ſhe ſent
one of her Pandoraes vnto him, perfectly inſtructed in the Art of a
Maquerella, who (after many cunning counterfetted ſighes, and
teares, which ſhe had alwayes ready at command, told him; that
his comely perſon and compleate perfections, had ſo wounded the
very ſoule of her Miſtreſſe, as ſhe could enioy no reſt in any place,
either by day or night. In regard whereof, ſhe deſired (aboue all
things elſe) to meete with him priuately in a Bathe: with which
Wordes, ſhe ſtraightway tooke a Ring forth of her purſſe, and in
moſt humble manner, deliuered it vnto him, as a token from her
Miſtreſſe.
Salabetto hauing heard this Meſſage, was the onely ioyfull man
that could be: and hauing receyued the Ring, looking on it aduiſedly;
firſt kiſſed it, and then put it vpon his finger. Then in anſwer to
the Meſſenger, he ſayd: That if her Miſtreſſe Biancafiore affected
him, ſhe ſuſtained no loſſe thereby, in regard he loued her as feruently,
and was ready to be commanded by her, at any time whenſoeuer
ſhe pleaſed.
She hauing deliuered this meſſage to her Miſtreſſe, was preſently
returned backe againe to him, to let him vnderſtand, in which of
the Bathes ſhe meant to meet him, on the next morrow in the euening.
This being counſell for himſelfe onely to keepe, he imparted
it not to any friend whatſoeuer; but when the houre for their meeting
was come, he went vnto the place where he was appointed, a
Bathe (belike) beſt agreeing with ſuch buſineſſe.
Not long had he taried there, but two Women ſlaues came laden
to him, the one bearing a Mattreſſe of fine Fuſtian on hir head,
and the other a great Basket filled with many things. Hauing ſpred
the Mattreſſe in a faire Chamber on a Couch-bed, they couered it
with delicate white Linnen ſheets, all about embroidred with faire
Fringes of gold, then laid they on coſtly quilts of rich Silkes, artificially
wrought with gold and ſiluer knots, hauing pearles and precious
ſtones interwouen among them, and two ſuch rich pillowes,
as ſildome before had the like bin ſeene. Salabetto putting off his
garments, entred the Bath prepared for him, where the two Slaues
waſhed his body very neatly. Soone after came Biancafiore hirſelfe,
attended on by two other women ſlaues, and ſeeing Salabetto in the
Bathe; making him a lowly reuerence, breathing forth infinite diſſembled
ſighes, and teares trickling downe her cheekes, kiſſing and
embracing him, thus ſhe ſpake.
I know not what man elſe in the worlde, beſide thy ſelfe, could
haue the power to bring me hither: the fire flew from thy faire eies
(O thou incompareable louely Tuſcane) that melted my ſoule, and
makes me onely liue at thy command. Then hurling off her light
wearing garment (becauſe ſhe came prepared for the purpoſe) ſhee
ſtept into the bathe to him, and, not permitting the Slaues a while
to come neere, none but her ſelfe muſt now laue his body, with
Muske compounded Sope and Gilly-floures. Afterward, the ſlaues
waſhed both him and her, bringing two goodly ſheetes, ſofte and
white, yeelding ſuch a delicate ſmell of Roſes, euen as if they had
bene made of Roſe-leaues. In the one, they folded Salabetto, and
her in the other, and ſo conueyed them on their ſhoulders vnto the
prepared Bed-Couch, where becauſe they ſhould not ſweate any
longer, they tooke the ſheets from about them, and laid them gently
in the bed.
Then they opened the Basket, wherein were diuers goodly Siluer
bottles, ſome filled with Roſewaters, others with flowers of Orenges,
and Waters diſtilled of Gelſomine, Muske, and Amber-Greece,
wherewith (againe) the ſlaues bathed their bodyes in the
bed, & afterward preſented them with variety of Comfites, as alſo
very precious Wines, ſeruing them in ſtead of a little Collation.
Salabetto ſuppoſed himſelf to be in Paradiſe: for this appeared to be
no earthly ioy, beſtowing a
〈…〉
(queſtionleſ ſe) was a
〈…〉
the Slaues, ſeemed millions of year
•
to him,
〈…〉
freely
〈…〉
the
〈…〉
Salabetto, beſtowed thoſe further fauours on him, which hee
came for, and ſhe was not
〈…〉
was exceedingly ioyfull, becauſe he imagined, that they proceeded
from the integrity of her affection towards him.
When ſhe thought it conuenient time to depart thence, the ſlaues
returned; they cloathed themſelues, and had a Banquet ſtanding
ready prepared for them; where-with they cheared their wearye
•
ſpirits, after they had firſt waſhed in odorifferous w
•
ters. At parting:
Salabetto (quoth ſhe) whenſoeuer thy leyſures ſhal beſt ſerue
thee, I will repute it as my cheefeſt happineſſe, that thou wilt accept
a Supper and Lodging in my houſe, which let it be this inſtant
night, if thou canſt. He being abſolutely caught, both by hi
•
beauty
and flattering behauiour: beleeued faithfully, that he was as intirely
beloued of her, as the heart is of the body: whereuppon hee
thus anſwered. Madame, whatſoeuer pleaſeth you, muſt needes
be much more acceptable vnto mee: and therefore, not onely
may command my ſeruice this night, but likewiſe the whole employment
of my life, to be onely yours in my very beſt ſtudies and
endeauours.
No ſooner did ſhe heare this anſwer, but ſhe returned home to
her owne houſe, which ſhe decked in moſt ſumptuous maner, and
alſo made ready a coſtly Supper, expecting the arriuall of Satabetto:
who when the darke night was indifferently well entred, went
thither, and was welcommed with wonderfull kindneſſe, wanting
no coſtly Wines and Delicates all the Supper
〈◊〉
. Being afterward
conducted into a goodly Chamber, he
〈◊〉
here admirable
ſweete ſenting ſauors, ſuch as might well beſeeme a Princes Pallace.
He beheld a moſt coſtly Bed, and very rich
〈◊〉
round
about the roome: which when he had duly conſidered to himſelf,
he was conſtantly perſwaded, that ſhe was a Lady of infinit wealth,
And although he had heard diuers flying reports concerning
〈◊〉
life, yet hee would not credite any thing
〈◊〉
of her, for
〈◊〉
ſhe might (perhappes) beguile ſome other; yet ſhee affected
〈◊〉
(he thought) in better manner, and no ſuch misfortune could happen
to him.
Hauing ſpent all the night with her in want on
〈…〉
being
riſen in the morning; to enflame his affection more and
〈◊〉
towards her, and to preuent any
〈◊〉
opinion he might
〈…〉
her, ſhe beſtowed a rich and
〈…〉
on him, as alſo a
〈◊〉
moſt curiouſly wrought, ſaying to him. My ſweet Salabetto, with
theſe teſtimonies of my true affection to thee, I giue thee faithfully
to vnderſtand, that as my perſon is onely ſubiected thine; ſo this
houſe and all the riches in it, remaineth abſolutely at thy diſpoſition,
or whatſoeuer hereafter ſhal happen within the compaſſe of my
power.
He being not a little proud of this her bountifull offer (hauing
neuer beſtowed any gift on her, becauſe by no meanes ſhee would
admit it) after many ſweet kiſſes and embraces; departed thence,
to the place where the Merchants vſually frequented: reſorting to
her (from time to time) as occaſion ſerued, and paying not one ſingle
peny for all his wanton pleaſure, by which cunning baytes (at
length) ſhe caught him.
It came to paſſe, that hauing made ſale of all his Clothes, whereby
hee had great gaines, and the moneyes iuſtly payed him at the
times appointed: Biancafiore got intelligence thereof; yet not by
him, but from one of the Brokers. Salabetto comming one night to
ſup with her, ſhe embraced and kiſſed him as ſhe was wont to doe,
and ſeemed ſo wonderfully addicted in loue to him, euen as if ſhee
would haue dyed with delight in his armes. Inſtantly, ſhee would
needs beſtow two goodly gilt ſtanding Cuppes on him, which Salabetto
by no meanes would receiue, becauſe ſhe had formerly bin
very bountifull to him, to aboue the value of an hundred Crowns,
and yet ſhe would not take of him ſo much as a mite. At length,
preſſing ſtill more tokens of her loue and bounty on him, which he
as courteouſly denied, as ſhe kindly offered: one of her▪ Womenſlaues
(as ſhee had before cunningly appointed) ſodainely calling
her, forthwith ſhe departed out of her Chamber. And when ſhe
had continued a pretty while abſent, ſhe returned againe weeping,
and throwing her ſelfe downe vpon her Pallet, breathed forth ſuch
ſighes and wofull lamentations, as no Woman could poſſibly doe
the like.
Salabetto amazedly wondering thereat, tooke her in his Armes,
and weeping alſo with her, ſaid. Alas my deare Loue, what ſodain
accident hath befalne you, to vrge this lamentable alteration? If you
loue me, hide it not from me. After he had often entreated her in
this manner, caſting her armes about his necke, and ſighing as if her
heart would breake, thus ſhe replyed.
Ah Salabetto, the onely Iewell of my ioy on earth, I knowe not
what to do, or ſay, for (euen now) I receiued Letters from Meſsi
•
a,
wherein my Brother writes to me, that although it coſt the ſale
of all my goods, or whatſoeuer elſe I haue beſide, I muſt (within
eight dayes ſpace) not faile to ſend him a thouſand Florins of gold,
or elſe he muſt haue his head ſmitten off, and I know not by what
meanes to procure them ſo ſoone. For, if the limitation of fifteene
dayes might ſerue the turne, I could borrow them in a place, where
I can command a farre greater ſumme, or elſe I would ſel ſome part
of our Lands. But beeing no way able to furniſh him ſo ſoone, I
would I had died before I heard theſe diſmall tydings. And in the
vttering of theſe words, ſhe graced them with ſuch cunning diſſembled
ſorrow, as if ſhe had meant truly indeed.
Salabetto, in whom the fury of his amorous flames, had conſumed
a great part of his neceſſary vnderſtanding, beleeuing theſe
counterfetted tears and complaints of hers, to proceed from an honeſt
meaning ſoule; raſhly and fooliſhly thus replied. Deare Biancafiore,
I cannot furniſh you with a thouſand golden Florines, but am
able to lend you fiue hundred, if I were ſure of their repayment at
fifteene dayes, wherein you are highly beholding to Fortune, that
I haue made ſale of all my Cloathes; which if they had lyen ſtill on
my hand, my power could not ſtretch to lend you fiue Florines.
Alas deare heart (quoth ſhe) would you be in ſuch want of money,
and hide it from her that loues you ſo loyally? Why did you not
make your need knowne to me? Although I am not furniſhed of a
thouſand Florines; yet I haue alwaies ready three or foure hundred
by me, to do any kinde office for my friend. In thus wronging me,
you haue robd me of all boldnes, to preſume vpon your offer made
me. Salabetto, far faſter inveigled by theſe words then before, ſaid.
Let not my folly (bright Biancafiore) cauſe you to refuſe my friendly
offer, in ſuch a caſe of extreme neceſſity: I haue them ready prepared
for you, and am heartily ſory, that my power cannot furniſh
you with the whole ſumme.
Then catching him faſt in her armes, thus ſhe anſwered. Now I
plainly perceiue, my deareſt Salabetto, that the loue thou beareſt
me is true and perfect; when without expectation of being requeſted,
thou art readie to ſuccour me in ſuch an vrgent neede, & with
ſo faire a ſumme of Florines. Sufficiently was I thine owne before,
but now am much more ingaged by ſo high deſeruing; with this
particular acknowledgement for euer, that my Brothers head was
redeemed by thy goodneſſe onely. Heauen beareth me record, how
vnwilling I am to be beholding in this kind, conſidring that you are
a Merchant, & Merchants furniſh al their affairs with ready monis:
but ſeeing neceſſity conſtraineth me, and I make no doubt of repaiment
at the time appointed: I ſhall the more boldly accept your
kindnes, with this abſolute promiſe beſide, that I wil rather ſell all
the houſes I haue, then breake my honeſt word with you
Counterfeit teares ſtill drayning downe her cheeks, and Salabetto
kindly comforting her; he continued there with hir all that night,
to expreſſe himſelfe her moſt liberall ſeruant. And, without expecting
any more requeſting, the next morning he brought her the
fiue hundred Florines, which ſhe receiued with a laughing heart,
but outward diſſembled weeping eies; Salabetto neuer demanding
any other ſecurity, but onely her ſingle promiſe.
Biancafiore, hauing thus receiued the fiue hundred Florines, the
indiction of the Almanacke began to alter: and whereas (before)
Salabetto could come ſee her whenſoeuer he pleaſed, many occaſions
now happened, whereby he came ſeuen times for once, and yet
his entrance was ſcarſely admitted, neither was his entertainment
ſo affable, or his cheare ſo bountifull, as in his former acceſſes thither.
Moreouer, when the time for repaiment was come, yea a moneth
or two ouer-paſt, and he demanded to haue his money; hee
could haue nothing but words for paiment. Now he began to conſider
on the craft and cunning of this wicked Woman, as alſo his
owne ſhallow vnderſtanding, knowing he could make no proofe of
his debt, but what her ſelfe liſted to ſay, hauing neither witnes, ſpecialty,
bill or bond to ſhew: which made his folly ſo ſhamefull to
him, that he durſt not complaine to any perſon, becauſe he had receiued
ſome aduertiſements before, whereto he wold by no means
liſten, and now ſhould haue no other amends, but publike infamie,
ſcorne and diſgrace, which made him almoſt weary of his life, and
much to bemoane his owne vnhappineſſe. He receiued alſo diuers
Letters from his Maſter, to make returne of the 500. Florines ouer
by way of banke, according as he had vſed to do: but nowe could
performe no ſuch matter.
Hereupon, becauſe his error ſhould not be diſcouered, he departed
in a ſmall veſſell thence, not making for Piſa, as he ſhould haue
done, but directly for Naples hee ſhaped his courſe. At that inſtant
lodged there, Don Pietro della Conigiano, Treaſurer of the Empreſſe
of Conſtantinople, a man of great wiſedome and vnderſtanding, as
alſo very ingenious and politike, he being an eſpeciall Fauourer of
Salabetto and all his friendes, which made him preſume the more
boldly (being vrged thereto by meere neceſſity, the beſt corrector
of wandering wits) to acquaint him with his lamentable misfortune,
in euery particular as it had hapned, requeſting his aid and aduice,
how he might beſt weare out the reſt of his dayes, becauſe hee
neuer meant to viſit Florence any more.
Conigiano being much diſpleaſed at the repetition of his Follie,
ſharply reproued him, ſaying. Thou haſt done leudly, in carying thy
ſelfe ſo looſely, and ſpending thy Maſters goods ſo careleſly, which
though I cannot truly tearme ſpent, but rather art meerely couſ
•
ned
and cheated of them, yet thou ſeeſt at what a deere rate thou
haſt purchaſed pleaſure, which yet is not vtterly helpleſſe, but may
by one meanes or other be recouered. And being a man of woonderfull
apprehenſion, aduiſed him inſtantly what was to bee done,
furniſhing him alſo with a ſumme of money, wherewith to aduenture
a ſecond loſſe, in hope of recouering the firſt againe: he cauſed
diuers Packes to be well bound vp, with the Merchants markes orderly
made on them, and bought about twenty Buttes or Barrelles,
all filled (as it were) with Oyle, and theſe pretended commodities
being ſhipt, Salabetto returned with them to Palermo. Where hauing
giuen in his packets to the Cuſtome-houſe, and entred them
all vnder his owne name, as being both owner and factor: all his
Wares were lockt vp in his Magizine, with open publication, that
he would not vent any of them, before other merchandiſes (which
he daily expected) were there alſo arriued.
Biancafiore hauing heard thereof, and vnderſtanding withall, that
he had brought Merchandiſes now with him, amounting to aboue
two thouſand Florins, ſtaying alſo in expectation of other commodities,
valewing better then three thouſand more, ſhe beganne to
conſider with her ſelfe, that ſhe had not yet gotten money enough
from him, and therefore would caſt a figure for a farre bigger booty.
Which that ſhe might the more fairely effect, without ſo much
as an imagination of the leaſt miſtruſt: ſhe would repay him backe
his fiue hundred Florines, to winne from him a larger portion of
two or three thouſand at the leaſt, and hauing thus ſetled her determination,
ſhe ſent to haue him come ſpeake with her. Salabetto,
hauing bene ſoundly bitten before, and therefore the better warranted
from the like ranckling teeth; willingly went to her, not ſhewing
any ſigne of former diſcontent: & ſhe, ſeeming as if ſhe knew
nothing of the wealth he brought with him, gracing him in as louing
manner as euer ſhe had done, thus ſhe ſpake.
I am ſure Salabetto, you are angry with mee, becauſe I reſtored
not your Florines at my promiſed day. Salabetto ſmiling, preſently
anſwered. Beleeue me Lady (quoth he) it did a little diſtaſt me,
euen as I could haue bin offended with him, that ſhould plucke out
my heart to beſtow it on you, if it would yeelde you any contentment.
But to let you know vnfainedly, how much I am incenſed
with anger againſt you: ſuch and ſo great is the affection I beare
you, that I haue ſolde the better part of my whole eſtate, conuerting
the ſame into Wealthy Merchandiſes, which I haue alreadie
brought hither with mee, and valewing aboue two thouſand Florines,
all which are ſtored vp in my Magazine. There muſt they remaine,
till another Ship come forth of the Weſterne parts, wherein
I haue a much greater aduenture, amounting vnto more then
three thouſand Florines. And my purpoſe is, to make my aboade
heere in this City, which hath won the ſole poſſeſſion of my heart,
onely in regard of my Biancafiore, to whō I am ſo intirely deuoted,
as both my ſelfe, and whatſoeuer elſe is mine (now or hereafter) is
dedicated onely to her ſeruice; whereto thus ſhe replyed.
Now truſt me Salabetto, whatſoeuer redoundeth to thy good
and benefite, is the cheefeſt comfort of my ſoule, in regard I prize
thy loue dearer then mine owne life, and am moſt ioyfull of thy rerurne
hither againe; but much more of thy ſtill abiding heere, becauſe
I intend to liue onely with thee, ſo ſoone as I haue taken order
for ſome buſineſſe of import. In the meane while, let me entreate
thee to hold me excuſed, becauſe before thy departure hence, thou
cameſt ſometimes to ſee me, without thy entrance admitted; and
other-whiles againe, found not ſuch friendly entertainement, as
formerly had bene affoorded. But indeede, and aboue all the reſt,
in not re-paying thy money according to my promiſe. But conſider
good Salabetto, in what great trouble and affliction of minde I
then was, both in regard of my Brothers danger, and other important
occurrences beſide, which molleſtations do much diſtract the
ſenſes, and hinder kinde courteſies, which otherwiſe would bee extended
liberally.
Laſt of all conſider alſo, how difficult a thing it is for a woman,
ſo ſodainly to raiſe the ſumme of a thouſand golden Florines, when
one friend promiſeth, and performeth not; another proteſteth, yet
hath no ſuch meaning; a third ſweareth, and yet proueth a falſe Lyar:
ſo that by being thus vngently vſed, a breach is made betweene
the beſt frends liuing. From hence it proceeded, and no other defect
elſe, that I made not due returne of your fiue hundred Florins.
No ſooner were you departed hence, but I had them readie, and as
many more, and could I haue knowne whither to ſend them, they
had bene with you long time ſince, which becauſe I could not (by
any meanes) compaſſe, I kept them ſtill for you in continuall readineſſe,
as hoping of your comming hither againe. So cauſing a purſe
to be brought, wherein the ſame Florines were, which hee had deliuered
her; ſhe gaue it into his hand, and prayed him to count them
ouer, whether there were ſo many, or no.
Neuer was Salabettoes heart halfe ſo ioyfull before; and hauing
counted them, found them to be his owne fiue hundred Florines:
then, putting them vp into his pocket, he ſaide. Comfort of my
life, Full well I know that whatſoeuer you haue ſaide, is moſt certaine;
but let vs talke no more of falſhood in friendſhip, or caſuall
accidents happening vnexpected: you haue dealt with mee like a
moſt loyall Miſtreſſe, and heere I proteſt vnſainedly to you, that as
well in reſpect of this kinde courteſie, as alſo the conſtancy of mi
•
e
affection to you, you cannot requeſt hereafter a far greater ſumme
of me, to ſupply any neceſſarie occaſion of yours; but (if my power
can performe it) you ſhall aſſuredly finde it certaine: make proofe
thereof whenſoeuer you pleaſe, after my other goods are Landed,
and I haue eſtabliſhed my eſtate here in your City.
Hauing in this manner renewed his wonted amity with her, and
with words farre enough off from all further meaning: Salabetto
began againe to frequent her company, ſhe expreſſing all former familiarity,
and ſhewing her ſelfe as lauiſhly bountifull to him, in all
reſpects as before ſhe had done, nay, many times in more magnificent
manner.
But he intending to puniſh her notorious trechery towards him,
when ſhe left him as an open ſcorne to the World, wounded with
diſgrace, and quite out of credit with all his friends: ſhe hauing (on
a day) ſolemnly inuited him, to ſuppe and lodge in her houſe all
night; he went, both with ſad and melancholly lookes, ſeeming as
ouercome with extreamity of ſorrow. Biancafiore meruayling at
this ſtrange alteration in him, ſweetly kiſſing and embracing him:
would needs know the reaſon of his paſſionate affliction, & he permitting
her to vrge the queſtion oftentimes together, without returning
any direct anſwere; to quit her in her kind, and with coine
of her owne ſtampe, after a few diſſembled ſighes, he began in this
manner.
Ah my deareſt Loue, I am vtterly vndone, becauſe the Shippe
containing the reſt of mine expected Merchandiſes, is taken by the
Pyrates of Monago, and put to the ranſome of tenne thouſand Florines
of Gold, and my part particularly, is to pay one thouſand. At
this inſtant I am vtterly deſtitute of money, becauſe the fiue hundred
Florines which I receiued of you, I ſent hence the next daie
day following to Naples, to buy more cloathes, which likewiſe are
to be ſent hither. And if I ſhould now make ſale of the Merchandizes
in my Magazine (the time of generall vtterance being not yet
come) I ſhall not make a pennyworth for a penny. And my misfortune
is the greater, becauſe I am not ſo well knowne heere in your
City, as to find ſome ſuccour in ſuch an important diſtreſſe; wherfore
I know not what to do or ſay. Moreouer, if the money be not
ſpeedily ſent, our goods will be carried into Monago, and then they
are paſt all redemption vtterly.
Biancafiore appearing greatly diſcontented, as one verily perſwaded,
that this pretended loſſe was rather hers, then his, becauſe ſhe
aymed at the maineſt part of all his wealth: began to conſider with
her ſelfe, which was the likelieſt courſe to bee taken, for ſauing the
goods from carriage to Monago: wherupon thus ſhe replied. Heauen
knoweth (my deareſt Salabetto) how thy loue maketh me ſorrowfull
for this misfortune, and it greeueth me to ſee thee any way
diſtreſſed: for if I had mony lying by mee (as many times I haue)
thou ſhouldſt finde ſuccour from my ſelfe onely, but indeede I am
not able to helpe thee. True it is, there is a friend of mine, who did
lend me fiue hundred Florines in my need, to make vppe the other
ſumme which I borrowed of thee: but he demandeth extreme intereſt,
becauſe he will not abate any thing of thirty in the hundred,
and if you ſhould bee forced to vſe him, you muſt giue him ſome
good ſecurity. Now for my part, the moſt of my goods here I will
pawne for thee: but what pledge can you deliuer in to make vp the
reſt? Wel did Salabetto conceiue, the occaſion why ſhe vrged this
motion, and was ſo diligent in doing him ſuch a pleaſure: for it appeared
euidently to him, that herſelfe was to lend the mony, wherof
he was not a litle ioyful, ſeeming very thankful to hir. Then he told
her, that being driuen to ſuch extremity, how vnreaſonable ſoeuer
the vſury was, yet he would gladly pay for it. And for her Friends
further ſecurity, hee would pawne him all the goods in his Magazine,
entering them downe in the name of the party, who lent the
money. Onely he deſired to keepe the Keyes of the Ware-houſe,
as well to ſhew his Merchandiſes, when any Merchant ſhould bee
ſo deſirous: as alſo to preſerue them from ill vſing, tranſporting or
changing, before his redemption of them.
She found no fault with his honeſt offer, but ſayde, hee ſhewed
himſelfe a well-meaning man, and the next morning ſhee ſent for a
Broker, in whom ſhe repoſed eſpeciall truſt; and after they had priuately
conſulted together, ſhee deliuered him a thouſand Golden
Florines, which were caried by him preſently to Salabetto, and the
Bond made in the Brokers name, of all the goods remaining in Salabettoes
ware-houſe, with compoſition and abſolute agreement, for
the prefixed time of the monies repaiment. No ſooner was this
tricke fully accompliſhed, but Salabetto ſeeming as if he went to redeeme
his taken goods: ſet ſaile for Naples towards Pietro della Canigiano,
with fifteene hundred Florines of Gold: from whence alſo
he ſent contentment to his Maſter at Florence (who imployd him
as his Factor at Palermo) beſide his owne packes of Cloathes. He
made repayment likewiſe to Canigniano, for the monies which furniſhed
him in this laſt voyage, and any other to whom hee was indebted.
So there he ſtayed awhile with Canigniano, whoſe counſel
thus holpe him to out-reach the Sicillian Courtezane: and meaning
to deale in Merchandiſe no more, afterward he returned to Florence
and there liued in good reputation.
Now as concerning Biancafiore, when ſhe ſaw that Salabetto returned
not againe to Palermo, ſhe beganne to grow ſomewhat a
••
ſhed,
as halfe ſuſpecting that which followed. After ſhe had
〈◊〉
for him aboue two moneths ſpace, and perceiued hee came not,
nor any tydings heard of him: ſhee cauſed the Broker to breake open
the Magazine, caſting forth the Buttes or Barrels, which ſhee
beleeued to bee full of good Oyles. But they were all filled with
Sea-water, each of them hauing a ſmall quantity of Oyle floating
on the toppe, onely to ſerue when a tryall ſhould bee made. And
then vnbinding the Packes, made vp in formall and Merchantable
manner: there was nothing elſe in them, but Logges and ſtumpes
of Trees, wrapt handſomely in hurdles of Hempe and Tow; onely
two had Cloathes in them. So that (to bee briefe) the whole did
not value two hundred Crownes: which when ſhe ſaw, and obſerued
how cunningly ſhe was deceiued: a long while after ſhee ſorrowed,
for repaying backe the fiue hundred Florines, and folly in
lending a thouſand more, vſing it as a Prouerbe alwaies after to hir
ſelfe: That whoſoeuer dealt with a Tuſcane, had neede to haue ſound
ſight and iudgement. So remaining contented (whither ſhe would
or no) with her loſſe: ſhe plainly perceyued, that although ſhe liued
by cheating others, yet now at the length ſhe had mette with
her match.
SO ſoone as Dioneus had ended his Nouell, Madame Lauretta
alſo knew, that the concluſion of her Regiment was
come; whereupon, when the counſell of Canigiano had
paſt with generall commendation, and the wit of Salabetto no leſſe
applauded, for fitting it with ſuch an effectuall proſecution; ſhee
tooke the Crowne of Laurell from her owne head, and ſet it vpon
Madame Aemilliaes, ſpeaking graciouſly in this manner. Madam,
I am not able to ſay, how pleaſant a Queene we ſhall haue of you,
but ſure I am, that we ſhall enioy a faire one: let matters therefore
be ſo honourably carried; that your gouernment may be anſwerable
to your beautifull perfections; which words were no ſooner deliuered,
but ſhe ſate downe in her mounted ſeate.
Madame Aemillia being ſomewhat baſhfull, not ſo much of hir
being created Queene, as to heare her ſelfe thus publikely prayſed,
with that which Women do moſt of all deſire: her face then appearing,
like the opening of the Damaske Roſe, in the goodlyeſt
morning. But after ſhe had a while deiected her lookes, and the
Vermillion bluſh was vaniſhed away: having taken order with the
Maſter of the houſhold, for all needefull occaſions befitting the aſſembly,
thus ſhe began.
Gracious Ladies, wee behold it daily, that thoſe Oxen which
haue laboured in the yoake moſt part of the day, for their more
conuenient feeding, are let forth at liberty, and permitted to wander
abroad in the Woods. We ſee moreouer, that Gardens and
Orchards, being planted with variety of the faireſt fruit Trees, are
equalled in beauty by Woods and Forreſts, in the plentifull enioying
of as goodly ſpreading branches. In conſideration whereof, remembring
how many dayes wee haue already ſpent (vnder the ſeueritie
of Lawes impoſed) ſhaping all our diſcourſes to a forme of
obſeruation: I am of opinion, that it will not onely well become
vs, but alſo proue beneficiall for vs, to liue no longer vnder ſuch reſtraint,
and like enthralled people, deſirous of liberty, wee ſhould
no more be ſubiected to the yoke, but recouer our former ſtrength
in walking freely.
Wherefore, concerning our paſtime purpoſed for to morrow, I
am not minded to vſe any reſtriction, or tye you vnto any particular
ordination: but rather do liberally graunt, that euery one ſhall
deuiſe and ſpeake of arguments agreeing with your owne diſpoſitions.
Beſides, I am verily perſwaded, that variety of matter vttered ſo
freely, will be much more delightfull, then reſtraint to one kinde of
purpoſe onely. Which being thus granted by me, whoſoeuer ſhal
ſucceede me in the gouernment, may (as being of more power and
preheminence) reſtraine all backe againe to the accuſtomed lawes.
And hauing thus ſpoken, ſhe diſpenſed with their any longer attendance,
vntill it ſhould be Supper time.
Euery one commended the Queenes appointment, allowing it to
relliſh of good wit and iudgement; and being all riſen, fell to ſuch
exerciſes as they pleaſed. The Ladies made Noſegaies and Chaplets
of Flowers, the men played on their Inſtruments, ſinging diuers
ſweete Ditties to them, and thus were buſied vntill Supper
time. Which beeing come, and they ſupping about the beautifull
Fountaine: after Supper, they fell to ſinging and dauncing. In the
end, the Queene, to imitate the order of her predeceſſors, commanded
Pamphilus, that notwithſtanding all the excellent ſongs formerly
ſung: he ſhould now ſing one, whereunto dutifully obeying,
thus he began.
THE SONG.
The Chorus ſung by all.
LOVE, I found ſuch felicitie,
And ioy, in thy captiuitie:
As I before did neuer proue,
And thought me happy, being in Loue.
COmfort abounding in my hart,
Ioy and Delight
In ſoule and ſpright
I did poſſeſſe in euery part;
O Soueraigne Loue by thee.
Thy Sacred fires,
Fed my deſires,
And ſtill aspires,
Thy happy thrall to bee.
Loue, I found ſuch felicity, &c.
My Song wants power to relate,
The ſweets of minde
Which I did finde
In that most bliſſefull ſtate,
O Soueraigne Loue by thee.
No ſad despaire,
Or killing care
Could me prepare;
Still thou didſt comfort me.
Loue, I found ſuch felicity, &c.
I hate all ſuch as do complaine,
Blaspheming thee
With Cruelty,
And ſleights of coy diſdaine.
O Soueraigne Loue, to mee
Thou haſt bene kinde:
If others finde
Thee worſe inclinde,
Yet I will honour thee.
LOVE, I found ſuch felicitie,
And ioy in thy Captiuitie:
As I before did neuer proue,
But thought me happie, being in Loue.
Thus the Song of Pamphilus ended, whereto all the reſt (as a
Chorus) anſwered with their Voyces, yet euery one particularly
(according as they felt their Loue-ſicke paſſions) made a curious
conſtruction thereof, perhaps more then they needed, yet not Diuining
what Pamphilus intended. And although they were tranſported
with variety of imaginations; yet none of them could ariue
at his true meaning indeed. Wherefore the Queene, perceiuing the
Song to be fully ended, and the Ladies, as alſo the young Gentlemen,
willing to go take their reſt: ſhe commaunded them ſeuerally
to their Chambers.
The End of the Eight Day.
THE NINTH DAY.
Whereon, vnder the Gouernment of Madame AEMILLIA, the Argument of each ſeuerall Diſcourſe, is not limitted to any one peculiar ſubiect: but euery one remaineth at liberty, to ſpeak of whatſoeuer themſelues best pleaſeth.
The Induction.
FAire Aurora, from whoſe bright
and chearefull lookes, the duskie
darke night flyeth as an vtter enemy,
had already reached ſo high as
the eight Heauen, conuerting it
all into an Azure colour, and the
pretty Flowrets beganne to ſpred
open their Leaues: when Madame Aemillia, being
riſen, cauſed all her female attendants, and the yong
Gentlemen likewiſe, to be ſummoned for their perſonall
appearance. Who being all come, the Queen
leading the way, and they following her Maieſticke
pace, walked into a little Wood, not farre off diſtant
from the Palace.
No ſooner were they there arriued, but they beheld
ſtore of Wilde Beaſts, as Hindes, Hares, Goats,
and ſuch like; ſo ſafely ſecured from the purſuite of
Huntſmen (by reaſon of the violent Peſtilence then
reigning) that they ſtood gazing boldly at them, as
dreadleſſe of any danger, or as if they were become
tame and Domeſticke.
Approaching neerer them, firſt to one, then vnto
another, as if they purpoſed to play gently vvith
them, they then beganne to skippe and runne, making
them ſuch paſtime with their pretty tripping,
that they conceyued great delight in beholding of
them.
But when they beheld the Sunne to exalt it ſelfe, it
was thought conuenient to return back again, ſhrouding
themſelues vnder the Trees ſpreading armes,
their hands full of ſweete Flowers and Odorifferous
Hearbes, which they had gathered in their Walking.
So that ſuch as chanced to meete them, could ſay nothing
elſe: but that death knew not by what meanes
to conquer them, or els they had ſet down an abſolute
determination, to kill him with their Iouiall diſpoſition.
In this manner, ſinging, dancing, or prettily pratling,
at length they arriued at the Palace, where they
found all things readily prepared, and their Seruants
duly attending for them. After they hadde repoſed
themſelues awhile, they would not (as yet) ſit downe
at the Table, vntill they had ſung halfe a dozen of
Canzonets, ſome more pleaſant then another, both
the women and men together.
Then they fell to waſhing hands, and the Maiſter
of the Houſhold cauſed them to ſit downe, according
as the Queene had appointed, and Dinner was moſt
ſumptuouſly ſerued in before them. Afterward, when
the Tables were with-drawne, they all tooke handes
to dance a Roundelay: which being done, they plaied
on their Inſtruments a while; and then, ſuch as ſo
pleaſed, tooke their reſt. But when the accuſtomed
houre was come, they all repaired to the place of diſcourſing,
where the Queen, looking on Madam Philomena,
gaue her the honor of beginning the firſt Nouell
for that day: whereto ſhee dutifully condiſcending,
began as followeth.
Madam Franceſca, a Widdow of Piſtoya, being affected by two Florentine Gentlemen, the one named Rinuccio Palermini, and the other Aleſſandro Chiarmonteſi, and ſhe bearing no good will to eyther of them; ingeniouſly freed her ſelfe from both their importunate ſuites. One of them ſhe cauſed to lye as dead in a graue, and the other to fetch him from thence: ſo neither of them accompliſhing what they were enioyned, fayled of obtaining his hoped expectation.
The Firſt Nouell.
Approuing, that chaſte and honeſt Women, ought rather to deny importunate ſuiters, by ſubtile and ingenious meanes, then fall into the danger of ſcandall and ſlander.
MAdame, it can no way diſcontent mee (ſeeing
it is your moſt gracious pleaſure) that I
ſhould haue the honour, to breake the firſt
ſtaffe of freedome in this faire company (according
to the iniunction of your Maieſty)
for liberty of our own beſt liking argumēts:
wherein I diſmay not (if I can ſpeake well enough)
but to pleaſe you all as well, as any
other that is to follow me. Nor am I ſo obliuious (worthy Ladies)
but full well I remember, that many times hath bene related in our
paſſed demonſtrations, how mighty and variable the powers of
loue are: and yet I cannot be perſwaded, that they haue all bene ſo
ſufficiently ſpoken of, but ſomething may bee further added, and
the bottome of them neuer diued into, although we ſhould ſit arguing
a whole yeare together. And becauſe it hath beene alreadie
approued, that Louers haue bene led into diuers accidents, not onely
ineuitable dangers of death, but alſo haue entred into the verie
houſes of the dead, thence to conuey their amorous friends: I purpoſe
to acquaint you with a Nouell, beſide them which haue bene
diſcourſed; whereby you may not onely comprehend the power
of Loue, but alſo the wiſedome vſed by an honeſt Gentlewoman,
to rid her ſelfe of two importunate ſuiters, who loued her againſt
her owne liking, yet neither of them knowing the others affection.
In the City of Piſtoya, there dwelt ſometime a beautifull Gentlewoman,
being a Widdow, whom two of our Florentines (the one
named Rinuccio Palermini, and the other Aleſſandro Chiarmonteſi,
hauing withdrawne themſelues to Piſtoya) deſperately affected, the
one ignorant of the others intention, but each carrying his caſe
cloſely, as hoping to be poſſeſſed of her. This Gentlewoman, named
Madame Franceſca de Lazzari, being often ſolicited by their
meſſages, and troubleſomely peſtered with their importunities: at
laſt (leſſe aduiſedly then ſhe intended) ſhee granted admittance to
heare either of them ſpeake. Which ſhe repenting, and coueting to
be rid of them both, a matter not eaſie to be done: ſhe wittily deuiſed
the onely meanes, namely, to moue ſuch a motion to them, as
neither would willingly vndertake, yet within the compaſſe of poſſibility;
but they failing in the performance, ſhee might haue the
more honeſt occaſion, to bee free from all further molleſtation by
them, and her politike intention was thus proiected.
On the ſame day, when ſhe deuiſed this peece of ſeruice, a man
was buried in Piſtoya, and in the Church-yard belonging vnto the
gray Friars, who being deſcended of good and worthie parentage:
yet himſelfe was very infamous, and reputed to be the vileſt man liuing,
not onely there in Piſtoya, but throughout the whole World
beſide. Moreouer, while he liued, he had ſuch a ſtrange miſhapen
body, and his face ſo vgly deformed, that ſuch as knew him not,
would ſtand gaſtly affrighted at the firſt ſight of him. In regarde
whereof, ſhee conſidered with her ſelfe, that the foule deformitie
of this loathed fellow, would greatly auayle in her determination,
and conſulting with her Chamber-maid, thus ſhe ſpake.
Thou knoweſt (my moſt true and faithfull ſeruant) what trouble
and affliction of minde I ſuffer dayly, by the meſſages and
Letters of the two Florentines, Rinuccio and Aleſſandro, how hate-their
importunity is to me, as being vtterly vnwilling to hear them
ſpeake, or yeeld to any thing which they deſire. Wherefore, to
free myſelfe from them both together, I haue deuiſed (in regard of
their great and liberall offers) to make trial of them in ſuch a matter,
as I am aſſured they will neuer performe.
It is not vnknowne to thee, that in the Church-yard of the Gray
Friars, and this inſtant morning, Scannadio (for ſo was the vgly
fellow named) was buried; of whom, when he was liuing, as alſo
now being dead, both men, women, and children, doe yet ſtand in
feare, ſo gaſtly and dreadfull alwayes was his perſonall appearance
to them. Wherefore, firſt of all go thou to Aleſſandro, and ſay to
him thus. My Miſtris Franceſca hath ſent me to you, to tell you,
that now the time is come, wherein you may deſerue to enioy her
loue, and gaine the poſſeſſion of her perſon, if you will accompliſh
ſuch a motion as ſhe maketh to you. For ſome eſpeciall occaſion,
wherewith hereafter you ſhall bee better acquainted, a neere Kinſman
of hers, muſt needs haue the body of Scannadio (who was buried
this morning) brought to her houſe. And ſhe, being as much
affraid of him now he is dead, as when he was liuing, by no meanes
would haue his body brought thither.
In which reſpect, as a Token of your vnfeigned loue to her, and
the lateſt ſeruice you ſhall euer do for her: ſhee earneſtly entreateth
you, that this night, in the very deadeſt time thereof, you would go
to the graue, where Scannadio lyeth yet vncouered with earth vntill
to morrow, and attyring your ſelfe in his garments, euen as if you
were the man himſelfe, ſo to remaine there vntill her kinſman doe
come.
Then, without ſpeaking any one word, let him take you foorth
of the graue, & bring you thence (inſted of Scannadio) to hir houſe:
where ſhe will giue you gentle welcome, and diſappoint her Kinſman
in his hope, by making you Lord of her, and all that is hers,
as afterward ſhall plainly appeare. If he ſay he wil do it, it is as much
as I deſire: but if hee trifle and make deniall, then boldly tell him,
that he muſt refraine all places whereſoeuer I am, and forbeare to
ſend me any more Letters, or meſſages.
Hauing done ſo, then repaire to Rinuccio Palermini, and ſay. My
Miſtreſſe Franceſca is ready to make acceptance of your loue; prouided,
that you will do one thing for her ſake. Namely, this enſuing
night, in the midſt & ſtilleſt ſeaſon thereof, to go to the graue where
Scannadio was this morning buried, & (without making any noiſe)
or ſpeaking one word, whatſoeuer you ſhall heare or ſee: to take
him forth of the graue, and bring him home to her houſe, wher you
ſhal know the reaſon of this ſtrange buſineſſe, and enioy her freely
as your owne for euer. But if he refuſe to do it, then I commaund
him, neuer hereafter to ſee me, or moue further ſuite vnto mee, by
any meanes whatſoeuer.
The Chamber-maide went to them both, and deliuered the ſeuerall
meſſag
•
s from her Miſtreſſe, according as ſhe had giuen her
in charge; whereunto each of them anſwered, that they woulde
(for her ſake) not onely deſcend into a Graue, but alſo into hell, if
it were her pleaſure.
She returning with this anſwer vnto her Miſtreſſe, Franceſ
•
a remained
in expectation, what the iſſue of theſe fond attemptes in
them, would ſort vnto. When night was come, and the middle
houre thereof already paſt, Aleſſandro Chiarmonteſi, hauing put off
all other garments to his doublet and hoſe; departed ſecretly from
his lodging, walking towards the Church-yard, where Scannadio
lay in his graue: but by the way as he went, hee became ſurprized
with diuers dreadfull conceites and imaginations, and queſtioned
with himſelfe thus.
What a beaſt am I? What a buſineſſe haue I vndertaken? And
whither am I going? What do I know, but that the Kinſman vnto
this Woman, perhappes vnderſtanding mine affection to her, and
crediting ſome ſuch matter, as is nothing ſo: hath laide this politicke
traine for me, that he may murther me in the graue? Which
(if it ſhould ſo happen) my life is loſt, and yet the occaſion neuer
knowne whereby it was done. Or what know I, whether ſome ſecret
enemy of mine (affecting her in like manner, as I do) haue deuiſed
this ſtratagem (out of malice) againſt mee, to draw my life in
danger, and further his owne good Fortune? Then, contrary motions,
ouerſwaying theſe ſuſpitions, he queſtioned his thoughts in
another nature.
Let me (quoth he) admit the caſe, that none of theſe ſurmiſes are
intended, but her Kinſman (by and in this manner deuiſed) muſt
bring me into her houſe: I am not therefore perſwaded, that he or
they do couet, to haue the body of Scannadio, either to carry it thither,
or preſent it to her, but rather do aime at ſome other end. May
not I coniecture, that my cloſe murthering is purpoſed, and this
way acted, as on him that (in his life time) had offended them? The
Maid hath ſtraitly charged me, that whatſoeuer is ſaid or done vnto
me, I am not to ſpeake a word. What if they pul out mine eies,
teare out my teeth, cut off my hands, or do me any other miſchiefe:
Where am I then? Shall all theſe extremities barre me of ſpeaking?
On the other ſide, if I ſpeake, then I ſhall be knowne, and ſo much
the ſooner (perhaps) be abuſed. But admit that I ſuſtaine no iniurie
at all, as being guilty of no tranſgreſſion: yet (perchance) I ſhall
not be carried to her houſe, but to ſome other baſer place, and afterward
ſhe ſhall reproue me, that I did not accompliſh what ſhee
commanded, and ſo all my labour is vtterly loſt.
Perplexed with theſe various contradicting opinions, he was willing
diuers times to turne home backe againe: yet ſuch was the violence
of his loue, and the power thereof preuailing againſt all ſiniſter
arguments; as he went to the graue, and remouing the boordes
couering it, whereinto he entred; and hauing deſpoiled Scannadio
of his garments, cloathed himſelfe with them, & ſo laid him down,
hauing firſt couered the graue againe. Not long had hee tarryed
there, but he began to bethinke him, what manner of man Scannadio
was, and what ſtrange reports had bene noiſed of him, not onely
for ra
•
ſ
•
cking dead mens graues in the night ſeaſon, but many other
abhominable Villanies committed by him, which ſo fearfully
aſſaulted him; that his haire ſtoode on end, euery member of him
quaked, and euery minute he imagined Scannadio riſing, with intent
to ſtrangle him in the graue. But his feruent affection ouercorning
all theſe idle feares, and lying ſtone ſtill, as if he had beene the
dead man indeede; he remained to ſee the end of his hope.
On the contrary ſide, after midnight was paſt, Rinuccio Palermini
departed from his lodging, to do what hee was enioyned by his
hearts Miſtreſſe, and as hee went along, diuers conſiderations alſo
ran in his minde, concerning occaſions poſſible to happen. As, falling
into the hands of Iuſtice, with the body of Scannadio vpon his
backe, and being condemned for ſacriledge, in robbing graues of
the dead; either to be burned, or otherwiſe ſo puniſhed, as might
make him hatefull to his beſt friends, and meerely a ſhame to himſelfe.
Many other the like conceits molleſted him, ſufficient to alter his
former determination: but affection was much more preuayling in
him, and made him vſe this conſultation. How now Rinuccio? Wilt
thou dare to deny the firſt requeſt, being mooued to thee by a Gentlewoman,
whom thou dearly loueſt, and is the onely meanes,
whereby to gaine aſſurance of her gracious fauour? Vndoubtedly,
were I ſure to die in the attempt, yet I will accompliſh my promiſe.
And ſo he went on with courage to the graue.
Aleſſandro hearing his arriuall, and alſo the remouall of the bords,
although he was exceedingly affraid; yet he lay quietly ſtil, and ſtirred
not, and Rinuccio beeing in the graue, tooke Aleſſandro by the
feete, haling him forth, and (mounting him vppon his backe) went
on thus loden, towards the houſe of Madam Franceſca. As he paſſed
along the ſtreets, vnſeene or vnmet by any, Aleſſandro ſuffered many
ſhrewd ruſhings and punches, by turnings at the ſtreets corners,
and iolting againſt bulkes, po
•
ſts, and ſtalles, which Rinuccio could
not auoyd, in regard the night was ſo wonderfully darke, as hee
could not ſee which way he went.
Being come ſomewhat neere to the Gentlewomans houſe, and
ſhe ſtanding readie in the Window with her Maide, to ſee when
Rinuccio ſhould arriue there with Aleſſandro, prouided alſo of an
apt excuſe, to ſend them thence like a couple of Coxcombes; it fortuned,
that the Watchmen, attending there in the ſame ſtreete, for
the apprehenſion of a baniſhed man, ſtolne into the City contrarie
to order; hearing the trampling of Rinuccioes feete, directed their
courſe as they heard the noiſe, hauing their Lanthorne and light
cloſely couered, to ſee who it ſhould be, and what he intended, and
beating their weapons againſt the ground, demanded, Who goes
there? Rinuccio knowing their voyces, and that now was no time
for any long deliberation: let fall Aleſſandro, and ran away as faſt
as his legs could carry him.
Aleſſandro being riſen againe (although he was cloathed in Scannadioes
Garments, which were long and too bigge for him) fledde
away alſo as Rinuccio did. All which Madame Franceſca eaſily diſcerned
by helpe of the Watchmens Lanthorne, and how Rinuccio
carried Aleſſandro on his backe, beeing attired in the Garments of
Scannadio: whereat ſhe meruailed not a litle, as alſo the great boldneſſe
of them both. But in the midſt of her meruailing, ſhe laughed
very heartily, when ſhe ſaw the one let the other fall, and both to
runne away ſo manfully. Which accident pleaſing her beyond all
compariſon, and applauding her good Fortune, to bee ſo happily
deliuered from their daily molleſtation: ſhe betooke her ſelfe to hir
Chamber with the Maide, auouching ſolemnly to her, that (queſtionleſſe)
they both affected her dearely, hauing vndertaken ſuch a
ſtraunge impoſition, and verie neere brought it to a finall concluſion.
Rinuccio, being ſadly diſcontented, and curſſing his hard fortune,
would not yet returne home to his Lodging: but, when the watch
was gone forth of that ſtreete, came backe to the place where he let
fall Aleſſandro, purpoſing to accompliſh the reſt of his enterprize.
But not finding the body, and remaining fully perſwaded, that the
Watchmen were poſſeſſed thereof; hee went away, greeuing extreamly.
And Aleſſandro, not knowing now what ſhould become
of him: confounded with the like griefe and ſorrow, that all his
hope was thus vtterly ouerthrowne, retired thence vnto his owne
houſe, not knowing who was the Porter which carried him.
The next morning, the graue of Scannadio being found open,
& the body not in it, becauſe Aleſſandro had thrown it into a deep
ditch neere adioyning: all the people of Piſtoya were poſſeſſed with
ſundry opinions, ſome of the more fooliſh ſort verily beleeuing,
that the diuell had caried away the dead body. Neuertheleſſe, each
of the Louers, ſeuerally made knowne to Madam Franceſca, what
he had done, and how diſappointed, either excuſing himſelfe, that
though her command had not bin fully accompliſhed, yet to continue
her fauour towards him. But ſhe, like a wiſe and diſcreet Gentlewoman,
ſeeming not to credit either the one or other: diſcharged
her ſelfe honeſtly of them both, with a cutting anſwere, That ſhee
would neuer (afterward) expect any other ſeruice from them, becauſe
they had fayled in their firſt iniunction.
Madame Vſimbalda, Lady Abbeſſe of a Monaſtery of Nu
•
s in
〈◊〉
bardie, ariſing haſtily in the night time without a Candle, to
〈◊〉
one of her Daughter Nu
••
es in bed with a yong Gentleman, whereof ſhe was enuiouſly accuſed, by certaine of her other Siſters
〈◊〉
Abbeſſe her ſelfe (being at the ſame time in bed with a Priest)
〈◊〉
to haue put or her head her plaited vayle, put on the Prieſt breeches. Which when the poore Nunne perceyued; by cauſing the Abbeſſe to ſee her owne error, ſhe got her ſelfe to be abſolued, and had the freer liberty afterward, to be more familiar with her frend, then formerly ſhe had bin.
The Second Nouell.
Whereby is declared, that whoſoeuer is deſirous to reprehend ſinne in other men, ſhould firſt examine himſelfe, that he be not guiltie of the ſame crime.
BY this time, Madame Philomena ſate ſilent, and the wit of
Franceſca, in freeing her ſelfe from them whom ſhe could
not fancie, was generally commended
〈◊〉
alſo on the contrary,
the bold preſumption of the two amorous ſuiters, was reputed
not to be loue, but meerely folly. And then the Queene, with
a gracious admonition, gaue way for Madam Eliza to follow next,
who preſently thus began.
Worthy Ladies, Madame Franceſca deliuered her ſelfe diſcreetly
from trouble, as already hath bin related: but a yong Nun, by
the helpe and fauour of Fortune, did alſo free her ſelfe (in ſpeaking
aduiſedly) from an inconuenience ſodainly falling on her. And as
you well know, there wants none of them, who (like bold Bayards)
will be very forward in checking other mens miſdemeanors, when
themſelues, as my Nouell will approue, deſerue more iuſtly to bee
corrected. As hapned to a Lady Abbeſſe, vnder whoſe gouernement
the ſame young Nunne was, of whom I am now to ſpeake.
You are then to vnderſtand (Gracious Auditors) that in Lombardie
there was a goodly Monaſtery, very famous for Holineſſe and
Religion, where, among other ſanctified Siſters, there was a yong
Gentlewoman, endued with very ſingular beautie, being named Iſabella,
who on a day, when a Kinſman of hers came to ſee her at
the grate, became enamored of a young Gentleman, being then in
his company.
He likewiſe, beholding her to be ſo admirably beautifull, & conceyuing
by the pretty glances of her eye, that they appeared to bee
ſilent intelligencers, of the hearts meaning, grew alſo as affectionately
inclined towards her, and this mutuall loue continued thus
concealed a long while, but not without great affliction vnto them
both. In the end, either of them being circumſpect and prouident
enough, the Gentleman contriued a meanes, whereby he might ſecretly
viſite his Nunne, wherewith ſhe ſeemed no way diſcontented:
and this viſitation was not for once or twice, but verie often,
and cloſely concealed to themſelues.
At length it came to paſſe, that either through their owne indiſcreete
carriage, or ielous ſuſpition in ſome others: it was eſpied by
one of the Siſters, both the Gentlemans comming and departing,
yet vnknowne to him or Iſabella. The ſaide Siſter, diſcloſing the
ſame to two or three more: they agreed together, to reueale it to
the Lady Abbeſſe, who was named Madame Vſimbalda, a holy and
deuout Lady, in common opinion of all the Nunnes, and whoſoeuer
elſe knew her.
They further concluded (becauſe Iſabella ſhould not deny theyr
accuſation) to contriue the buſineſſe ſo cunningly: that the Ladie
Abbeſſe ſhould come her ſelfe in perſon, and take the yong Gentleman
in bed with the Nun. And vppon this determination, they agreed
to watch nightly by turnes, becauſe by no meanes they wold
be preuented: ſo to ſurpriſe poore Iſabella, who beeing ignorant of
their treachery, ſuſpected nothing. Preſuming thus ſtill on this ſecret
felicitie, and fearing no diſaſter to befall her: it chaunced (on a
night) that the yong Gentleman being entred into the Nuns Dorter,
the Scowts had deſcried him, & intended to be reuenged on her.
After ſome part of the night was ouerpaſt; they diuied themſelues
into two bands, one to guard Iſabellaes Dorter doore, the other
to carry newes to the Abbeſſe, and knocking at her Cloſe
•
doore, ſaide. Riſe quickely Madame, and vſe all the haſt you may,
for we haue ſeene a man enter our Siſter Iſabellaes Dorter, and you
may take her in bed with him. The Lady Abbeſſe, who (the very
ſame night) had the company of a luſty Prieſt in bed with her ſelfe,
as oftentimes before ſhe had, and he being alwayes brought thither
in a Cheſt: hearing theſe tidings, and fearing alſo, leſt the Nunnes
haſtie knocking at her doore, might cauſe it to fly open, and ſo (by
their entrance) haue her owne ſhame diſcouered: aroſe very haſtily,
and thinking ſhe had put on her plaited vaile, which alwayes ſhe
walked with in the night ſeaſon, and vſed to tearme her Pſalter; ſhe
ſhe put the Prieſts breeches vpon her head, and ſo went away in all
haſt with them, ſuppoſing them verily to be her Pſalter: but making
faſt the Cloſet doore with her keye, becauſe the Prieſt ſhould not
be diſcouered.
Away ſhee went in all haſte with the Siſters, who were ſo
forward in the detection of poore Iſabella, as they neuer regarded
what manner of vaile the Lady Abbeſſe wore on her head. And
being come to the Dorter doore, quickly they lifted it off from the
hookes, and being entred, found the two Louers ſweetly imbracing:
but yet ſo amazed at this ſudden ſurpriſall, as they durſt not
ſtirre, nor ſpeake one word. The young Nunne Iſabella, was raiſed
forthwith by the other Siſters, and according as the Abbeſſe had
comanded, was brought by them into the Chapter-houſe: the yong
Gentleman remaining ſtill in the Chamber, where he put on his
garments, awaiting to ſee the iſſue of this buſineſſe, and verily intending
to act ſeuere reuenge on his betrayers, if any harme were done
to Iſabella, and afterward to take her thence away with him, as
meaning to make her amends by marriage.
The Abbeſſe being ſeated in the Chapter houſe, and all the other
Nunnes then called before her, who minded nothing elſe but the
poore offending Siſter: ſhe began to giue her very harſh and vile
ſpeeches, as neuer any tranſgreſſor ſuffered the like, and as to her
who had (if it ſhould be openly knowne abroad) contaminated by
〈◊〉
lewde life and actions, the ſanctity and good renowne of the
whole Monaſtery, and threatned her with very ſeuere chaſtiſement.
Poore Iſabella, confounded with feare and ſhame, as being no way
able to excuſe her fault, knew not what anſwer to make, but ſtanding
ſilent, made her caſe compaſſionable to all the reſt, euen thoſe
hard-hearted Siſters which betrayed her.
And the Abbeſſe ſtill continuing her harſh ſpeeches, it fortuned,
that Iſabella raiſing her head, which before ſhe deiected into hir boſome,
eſpied the breeches on her head, with the ſtockings hanging
on either ſide of her; the ſight whereof did ſo much encourage her,
that boldly ſhe ſaid. Madam, let a poore offender aduiſe you for to
mend your veile, and afterward ſay to me what you will.
The Abbeſſe being very angry; and not vnderſtanding what ſhe
meant, frowningly anſwered. Why how now ſaucy companion?
What vaile are you prating of? Are you ſo malapert, to bee chatting
already? Is the deed you haue done, to be anſwered in ſuch immodeſt
manner? Iſabella not a iot danted by her ſterne behauiour,
once againe ſaid. Good Madam let me perſwade you to fette your
vaile right, and then chide me as long as you will. At theſe words,
all the reſt of the Nunnes exalted their lookes, to behold what vaile
the Abbeſſe wore on her head, wherewith Iſabella ſhould finde ſuch
fault, and ſhe her ſelfe lift vp her hand to feele it: and then they all
perceyued plainly, the reaſon of Iſabellas ſpeeches, and the Abbeſſe
ſaw her owne error.
Hereupon, when the reſt obſerued, that ſhe had no help to cloud
this palpable ſhame withall, the tide began ro turne, and hir tongue
found another manner of Language, then her former fury to poore
Iſabella, growing to this concluſion, that it is impoſſible to reſiſt againſt
the temptations of the fleſh. And therefore ſhe ſaide: Let all
of you take occaſion, according as it offereth it ſelfe, as both we and
our predeceſſors haue done: to be prouident for your ſelues, take
time while you may, hauing this ſentence alwaies in remembrance,
Si non caſte, tamen caute.
So, hauing granted the yong Nunne Iſabella free abſolution: the
Lady Abbeſſe returned backe againe to bed to the Prieſt, and Iſabella
to the Gentleman. As for the other Siſters, who (as yet) were
without the benefit of friends; they intended to prouide themſelues
ſo ſoone as they could, being enduced thereto by ſo good example.
Maſter Simon the Phyſitian, by the perſwaſions of Bruno, Buffalmaco, and a third Companion, named Nello, made Calandrino to beleeue, that he was conceiued great with childe. And hauing Phyſicke miniſtred to him for the diſeaſe: they got both good fatte Capons and money of him, and ſo cured him, without auy other manner of deliuerance.
The Third Nouell.
Diſcouering the ſimplicity of ſome ſilly witted men, and how eaſie a matter it is to abuſe and beguile them.
AFter that Madame Eliza had concluded her Nouell, and
euery one of the company giuen thankes to Fortune, for
deliuering poore Iſabella the faire young Nunne, from the
bitter reprehenſions of the as faulty Abbeſſe, as alſo the malice of
her enuious Siſters: the Queene gaue command vnto Philostratus,
that he ſhould be the next in order, and hee (without expecting anie
other warning) began in this manner.
Faire Ladies, the paltry Iudge of the Marquiſate, whereof yeſterday
I made relation to you; hindred mee then of another Nouell,
concerning ſilly Calandrino, wherewith I purpoſe now to acquaint
you. And becauſe whatſoeuer hath already bin ſpoken of him, tended
to no other end but matter of meriment, hee and his companions
duly conſidered: the Nouel which I ſhal nown report, keepeth
within the ſelfeſame compaſſe, and aimeth alſo at your contentment,
according to the ſcope of impoſed variety.
You haue already heard what manner of man Calandrino was,
and likewiſe the reſt of his pleaſant Companions, who likewiſe are
now againe to be remembred, becauſe they are actors in our preſent
diſcourſe. It came ſo to paſſe, that an Aunt of Calandrinoes dying,
left him a legacy of two hundred Florines, wherewith he purpoſed
to purchaſe ſome ſmall Farme-houſe in the countrey, or elſe to enlarge
the other, whereof he was poſſeſſed already. And, as if hee
were to disburſe ſome ten thouſand Florines, there was not a Broker
in all Florence, but vnderſtood what he intended to doe: and all
the worſt was, that the ſtrings of his purſe could ſtretch no higher.
Bruno, and Buffalmaco (his auncient Confederates) who heard of
this good Fortune befalne him, aduiſed him in ſuch manner as they
were wont to do; allowing it much better for him, to make merrie
with the money in good cheare among them, then to lay it out in
paltry Land, whereto he would not by any meanes liſten, but ridde
himſelfe of them with a dinners coſt, as loath to bee at anie further
charge with them.
Theſe merry Laddes meant not to leaue him ſo; but ſitting one
day in ſerious conſultation, and a third man in their companie, named
Nello; they all three lay de their braines in ſteep, by what means
to waſh their mouths well, and Calandrino to bee at the coſt thereof.
And hauing reſolued what was to bee done, they met togither
the next morning, euen as Calandrino was comming foorth of his
houſe, and ſundering themſelues, to auoyd all ſuſpition, yet beeing
not farre diſtant each from other; Nello firſt met him, and ſaide vnto
him, Good Morrow Calandrino: which he requited backe agayne
with the ſame ſalutation. But then Nello ſtanding ſtill, looked him
ſtedfaſtly in the face: whereat Calandrino meruailing, ſayd. Nello,
why doſt thou behold me ſo aduiſedly? Whereunto Nello anſwered,
ſaying Haſt thou felt any paine this laſt night paſt? Thou lookeſt nothing
ſo well, as thou didst yeſterday. Calandrino beganinſtantly to
wax doubtfull, and replyed thus. Doſt thou ſee any alteration in my
face, whereby to imagine, I ſhould feele ſome paine? In good faith Calandrino
(quoth Nello) me thinks thy countenance is ſtrangely changed,
and ſurely it proceedeth from ſome great cauſe, and ſo he departed
away from him.
Calandrino being very miſtruſtfull, ſcratched his head, yet felte
he no grieuance at all, and going ſtill on; Buffalmaco ſodainely en-encountred
him, vpon his departure from Nello, and after ſalutations
paſſing betweene them; in a manner of admiration, demanded
what he ayled?
Truly (quoth Calandrino) well enough to mine owne thinking, yet
notwithſtanding, I met with Nello but euen now; and he told me, that
my countenance was very much altred; Is it poſsible that I ſhould bee
ſicke, and feele no paine or diſtaſte in any part of me? Buffalmaco anſwered;
I am not ſo skilfull in iudgement, as to argue on the Nature
of diſtemper in the body: but ſure I am, that thou haſt ſome daungerous
inward impediment, becauſe thou lookſt (almoſt) like a man more
then halfe dead.
Calandrino began preſently to ſhake, as if hee had had a Feauer
hanging on him, and then came Bruno looking fearefully on him,
and before he would vtter any words, ſeemed greatly to bemoane
him, ſaying at length. Calandrino? Art thou the ſame man, or no?
How wonderfully art thou changed ſince laſt I ſaw thee, which is no
longer then yeſter day? I pray thee tell mee, How dooeſt thou feele thy
health?
Calandrino hearing, that they all agreed in one opinion of him;
he beganne verily to perſwade himſelfe, that ſome ſodaine ſicknes,
had ſeiſed vpon him, which they could diſcerne, although hee felt
no anguiſh at all: and therefore, like a man much perplexed in
minde, demanded of them, What he ſhould do? Beleeue me Calandrino
(anſwered Bruno) if I were worthy to giue thee counſell, thou
ſhouldſt returne home preſently to thy houſe, and lay thee downe
in thy warme Bedde, couered with ſo many cloathes as thou canſt
well endure. Then to Morrow morning, ſend thy Water vnto
Learned Mayſter Doctor the Phyſitian, who (as thou knoweſt) is
a man of moſt ſingular skill and experience: he will inſtruct thee
preſently what is the beſt courſe to be taken, and we that haue euer
beene thy louing friends, will not faile thee in any thing that lieth in
our power.
By this time, Nello being come againe vnto them, they all returned
home with Calandrino vnto his owne houſe, whereinto he entering
very faintly, hee ſaide to his Wife: Woman, make my Bed
preſently ready, for I feele my ſelfe to be growne extreamely ſicke,
and ſee that thou layeſt cloathes enow vpon me. Being thus laide in
his Bedde, they left him for that night, and returned to viſite him
againe the verie next morning, by which time, he had made a reſeruation
of his Water, and ſent it by a young Damoſell vnto Maiſter
Doctor, who dwelt then in the olde market place, at the ſigne
of the Muske Mellone. Then ſaide Bruno vnto his Companions;
Abide you heere to keepe him company, and I will walke along to
the Phyſitian, to vnderſtand what he will ſay: and if neede be, I can
procure him to come hither with me. Calandrino very kindely accepted
his offer, ſaying withall. Well Bruno, thou ſhewſt thy ſelfe
a friend in the time of neceſſity, I pray thee know of him, how the
caſe ſtands with me, for I feele a very ſtrange alteration within mee,
far beyond all compaſſe of my conceite.
Bruno being gone to the Phyſitian, he made ſuch expedition, that
he arriued there before the Damoſell, who carried the Water, and
informed Maſter Simon with the whole tricke intended: wherefore,
when the Damoſell was come, and hee had paſſed his iudgement
concerning the water, he ſaid to her.
Maide, go home againe, and tell Calandrino, that he muſt keepe
himſelfe very warme: and I my ſelfe will inſtantly be with him, to
enſtruct him further in the quality of his ſickneſſe.
The Damoſell deliuered her meſſage accordingly, and it was not
long before Mayſter Doctor Simon came, with Bruno alſo in his
company, and ſitting downe on the beds ſide by Calandrino, hee
began to taſte his pulſe, and within a ſmall while after, his Wife
being come into the Chamber, he ſaid. Obſerue me well Calandrino,
for I ſpeake to thee in the nature of a true friend; thou haſt no other
diſeaſe, but only thou art great with child.
So ſoone as Calandrino heard theſe words, in diſpairing manner
he beganne to rage, and cry out aloud, ſaying to his wife. Ah thou
wicked woman, this is long of thee, and thou haſt done me this miſcheefe:
for alwayes thou wilt be vpon me, euer railing at mee, and
fighting, vntill thou haſt gotten me vnder thee. Say thou diuelliſh
creature, do I not tell thee true? The Woman, b
•
ing of verie honeſt
and ciuill conuerſation, hearing her husband ſpeake ſo fooliſhly:
bluſhing with ſhame, and hanging downe her head in baſhfull
manner; without returning any anſwer, went forth of her Chamber.
Calandrino continuing ſtill in his angry humour, wringing his
hands, and beating them vpon his breſt, ſaid: Wretched man that
I am, What ſhall I do? How ſhal I be deliuered of this child? Which
way can it come from me into the world? I plainly perceyue, that
I am none other then a dead man, and all through the wickedneſſe
of my Wife: heauen plague her with as many miſchiefes, as I am
deſirous to finde eaſe. Were I now in as good health, as heeretofore
I haue beene, I would riſe out of my bed, and neuer ceaſe beating
her, vntill I had broken her in a thouſand peeces. But if Fortune
will be ſo fauourable to me, as to helpe mee out of this dangerons
agony: hang me, if euer ſhe get me vnder her againe, or make
me ſuch an Aſſe, in hauing the maſtery ouer mee, as diuers times
ſhe hath done.
Bruno, Buffalmaco and Nello, hearing theſe rauing ſpeeches of
Calandrino, were ſwolne ſo bigge with laughter, as if their ribbes
would haue burſt in ſunder; neuertheleſſe, they abſtained ſo well
as they were able; but Doctor Simon gaped ſo wide with laughing
as one might eaſily haue pluckt out all his teeth. In the end, becauſe
he could tarry there no longer, but was preparing to depart:
Calandrino thanked him for his paines, requeſting that hee would
be carefull of him, in aiding him with his beſt aduiſe and counſell,
and he would not be vnmindfull of him. Honeſt neighbour Calandrino,
anſwered the Phiſition, I would not haue you to torment
your ſelfe, in ſuch an impatient and tempeſtuous manner, becauſe
I perceiue the time ſo to haſten on, as we ſhall ſoone perceiue (and
that within very few dayes ſpace) your health well reſtored, and
without the ſenſe of much paine; but indeed it wil coſt expences.
Alas Sir, ſaid Calandrino, mak not any ſpare of my purſe, to procure
that I may haue ſafe deliuerance. I haue two hundred Florines,
lately falne to me by the death of mine Aunt, wherewith I intended
to purchaſe a Farme in the Countrey: take them all if need be,
onely reſeruing ſome few for my lying in Childbed. And then
Maſter Doctor, Alas, I know not how to behaue my ſelfe, for I haue
heard the grieuous complaint of women in that caſe, oppreſſed
with bitter pangs and throwes; as queſtionleſſe they will bee my
death, except you haue the greater care of me.
Be of good cheere neighbour Calandrino, replyed Doctor Simon,
I will prouide an excellent diſtilled drinke for you, marueilouſly
pleaſing in taſte, and of ſoueraigne vertue, which will reſolue
all in three mornings, making you as whole and as ſound as a
Fiſh newly ſpawned. But you muſt haue an eſpeciall care afterward,
being prouidently wiſe, leaſt you fall into the like follies againe.
Concerning the preparation of this precious drinke,
halfe a dozen of Capons, the very faireſt and fatteſt, I muſt make
vſe of in the diſtillation: what other things ſhall bee imployed beſide,
you may deliuer forty Florines to one of theſe your honeſt
friends, to ſee all the neceſſaries bought, and ſent me home to my
houſe. Concerning my buſineſſe, make you no doubt thereof, for
I will haue all diſtilled againſt to morrow, and then doe you drinke
a great Glaſſe full euery morning, freſh and faſting next your
heart. Calandrino was highly pleaſed with his words, returning maſter
Doctor infinite thankes, and referring all to his diſpoſing. And
hauing giuen forty Florines to Bruno, with other money beſide, to
buy the halfe dozen of Capons: he thought himſelfe greatly beholding
to them all, and proteſted to requite their kindeneſſe.
Maſter Doctor being gone home to his houſe, made ready a
bottel of very excellent Hypocraſſe, which he ſent the next day according
to his promiſe: and Bruno hauing bought the Capons,
with other iunkets, ſit for the turne, the Phiſitian and his merry
Companions, fed on them hartely for the giuers ſake. As for Calandrino,
he liked his dyet drinke excellently well, quaffing a large
Glaſſefull off three mornings together: afterward Maſter Doctor
and the reſt came to ſee him, and hauing felt his pulſe, the Phiſition
ſaid. Calandrino, thou art now as ſound in health, as any man in all
Florence can be: thou needeſt not to keepe within doores any longer,
but walke abroad boldly, for all is well and the childe gone.
Calandrino aroſe like a ioyfull man, and walked daily through
the ſtreets, in the performance of ſuch affaires as belonged to him:
and euery acquaintance he met withall, he told the condition of his
ſudden ſickeneſſe; and what a rare cure Maſter Doctor Simon had
wrought on him, deliuering him (in three dayes ſpace) of a childe,
and without the feeling of any paine. Bruno, Buffalmaco, and Nello,
were not a little iocond, for meeting ſo well with couetous Calandrino:
but how the Wife liked the folly of her Husband, I leaue
to the iudgement of all good Women.
Franceſco Fortarigo, played away all that he had at Buonconuento, and likewiſe the money of Franceſco Aniolliero, being his Maſter. Then running after him in his ſhirt, and auouching that hee had robbed him: he cauſed him to be taken by Pezants of the Country, clothed himſelfe in his Maſters wearing garments, and (mounted on his horſe) rode thence to Sienna, leauing Aniolliero in his ſhirt, and walked bare-footed.
The fourth Nouell.
Seruing as an admonition to all men, for taking Gameſters and Drunkards into their ſeruice.
THe ridiculous words giuen by Calandrino to his Wife, all
all the whole company hartily laughed at: but Philoſtratus
ceaſſing, Madame Neiphila (as it pleaſed the Queene
to appoint) began to ſpeake thus. Vertuous Ladies, if it were not
more hard and vneaſie for men, to make good their vnderſtanding
and vertue, then apparant publicarion of their diſgrace and folly;
many would not labour in vaine, to curbe in their idle ſpeeches
with a bridle, as you haue manifeſtly obſerued by the weake wit of
Calandrino. Who needed no ſuch fantaſtick circumſtance, to cure
the ſtrange diſeaſe, which he imagined (by ſottiſh perſwaſions) to
haue: had hee not been ſo lauiſh of his tongue, and accuſed his
Wife of ouer-maſtering him. Which maketh me remember a Nouell,
quite contrary to this laſt related, namely, how one man may
ſtriue to ſurmount another in malice; yet he to ſuſtaine the greater
harme, that had (at the firſt) the moſt aduantage of his enemy, as I
will preſently declare vnto you.
There dwelt in Sienna, and not many yeeres ſince, two young
men of equall age, both of them bearing the name of Franceſco: but
the one was deſcended of the Aniollieri, and the other likewiſe of
the Fortarigi; ſo that they were commonly called Aniolliero, and
Fortarigo, both Gentlemen, and well deriued. Now, although in
many other matters, their complexions did differ very much: Yet
notwithſtanding, they varied not in one bad qualitie, namely too
great neglect of their Fathers, which cauſed their more frequent
conuerſation, as very familiar and reſpectiue friends. But Aniolliero
(being a very goodly and faire conditioned young Gentleman)
apparently perceiuing, that he could not maintaine himſelfe at Sienna,
in ſuch eſtate as he liked, and vpon the penſion allowed him by
his Father, hearing alſo, that at the Marquiſate of Ancona, there liued
the Popes Legate, a worthy Cardinall, his much indeared
good Lord and friend: he intended to goe viſite him, as hoping
to aduance his fortunes by him.
Hauing acquainted his Father with this determination, he concluded
with him, to haue that from him in a moment which might
ſupply his wants for many moneths, becauſe he would be clothed
gallantly, and mounted honourably. And ſeeking for a ſeruant
neceſſary to attend on him, it chanced that Fortarigo hearing thereof,
came preſently to Aniolliero, intreating him in the beſt manner
he could, to let him waite on him as his ſeruing man, promiſing
both dutiful and diligent attendance: yet not to demaund any other
wages, but onely payment of his ordinary expences. Aniolliero
made him anſwere, that he durſt not giue him entertainment, not
in regard of his inſufficiency, and vnaptneſſe for ſeruice: but becauſe
he was a great Gameſter, and diuers times would be beaſtly
drunke? whereto Fortarigo replyed that hee would refraine from
both thoſe foule vices, and addict all his endeauor wholly to pleaſe
him, without iuſt taxation of any groſſe errour; making ſuch ſolemne
vowes and proteſtations beſide, as conquered Aniolliero,
and won his conſent.
Being entred vpon his iourney, and arriuing in a morning at
Buonconuento, there Aniolliero determined to dine, and afterward,
finding the heate to be vnfit for trauaile; he cauſed a bed to be prepared,
wherein being laid to reſt by the helpe of Fortarigo, he gaue
him charge, that after the heates violence was ouerpaſt, hee ſhould
not faile to call and awake him. While Aniolliero ſlept thus in
his bed, Fortarigo, neuer remembring his ſolemne vowes and promiſes:
went to the Tauerne, where hauing drunke indifferently, and
finding company fit for the purpoſe, he fell to play at the dice with
them. In a very ſhort while, he had not onely loſt his money, but
all the cloathes on his backe likewiſe, and coueting to recouer his
loſſes againe; naked in his ſhirt, he went to Aniollieros Chamber,
where finding him yet ſoundly ſleeping, he tooke all the money he
had in his purſe, and then returned backe to play, ſpeeding in the
ſame manner as hee did before, not hauing one poore penny left
him.
Aniolliero chancing to awake,, aroſe and made him ready, without
any ſeruant to helpe him; then calling for Fortarigo, and not
hearing any tydings of him: he began immediately to imagine,
that he was become drunke, and ſo had falne aſleepe in one place
or other, as very often he was wont to doe. Wherefore, determining
ſo to leaue him, he cauſed the male and Saddle to be ſet on his
horſe, & ſo to furniſh himſelfe with a more honeſt ſeruant at Corſignano.
But when hee came to pay his hoſte, hee found not any penny
left him: whereupon (as well he might) he grew greatly offended,
and raiſed much trouble in the houſe, charged the hoaſts people to
haue robde him, and threatening to haue them ſent as priſoners
to Sienna. Suddenly entred Fortarigo in his ſhirt, with intent to
haue ſtolne Aniollieroes garments, as formerly hee did the money
out of his purſe, and ſeeing him ready to mount on horſebacke, hee
ſaide.
How now Aniolliero? What ſhall we goe away ſo ſoone?
I pray you Sir tarry a little while, for an honeſt man is comming
hither, who hath my Doublet engaged for eight and thirty ſhillings;
and I am ſure that he will reſtore it me back for fiue and thirty,
if I could preſently pay him downe the money.
During the ſpeeches, an other entred among them, who aſſured
Aniolliero, that Fortarigo was the Thiefe which robde him of his
money, ſhewing him alſo how much hee had loſt at the Dice:
Wherewith Aniolliero being much mooued, very angerly reprooued
Fortarigo, and, but for feare of the Law, would haue offered
him outrage, thretning to haue him hangd by the neck, or elſe condemned
to the Gallies belonging to Florence, and ſo mounted on
his horſe. Fortarigo making ſhew to the ſtanders by, as if Aniolliero
menaced ſome other body, and not him, ſaid. Come Aniolliero,
I pray thee let vs leaue this friuilous prating, for (indeede) it is
not worth a Button, and minde a matter of more importance: my
Doublet will bee had againe for fiue and thirty ſhillings, if the
money may bee tendered downe at this very inſtant, whereas if we
deferre it till to morrow, perhaps hee will then haue the whole
eight and thirty which he lent me, and he doth me this pleaſure, becauſe
I am ready (at another time) to affoord him the like courteſie;
why then ſhould we looſe three ſhillings, when they may ſo eaſily
be ſaued.
Aniolliero hearing him ſpeake in ſuch confuſed manner, and perceiuing
alſo, that they which ſtood gazing by, beleeued (as by their
lookes appeared) that Fortarigo had not played away his Maſters
mony at the Dice, but rather that he had ſome ſtocke of Fortarigoes
in his cuſtody; angerly anſwered, Thou ſawcy companion, what
haue I to doe with thy Doublet? I would thou wert hangd, not only
for playing away my money, but alſo by delaying thus my iourney,
and yet boldly thou ſtandeſt out-facing mee, as if I were no
better then thy fellow. Fortarigo held on ſtill his former behauiour,
without vſing any reſpect or reuerence to Aniolliero, as if all
the accuſations did not concerne him, but ſaying, Why ſhould wee
not take the aduantage of three ſhillings profit? Thinkeſt thou, that
I am not able to doe as much for thee? why, lay out ſo much money
for my ſake, and make no more haſte then needs we muſt, becauſe
we haue day-light enough to bring vs (before night) to Torreniero.
Come, draw thy purſe, and pay the money, for vpon mine
honeſt word, I may enquire throughout all Sienna, and yet not find
ſuch another Doublet as this of mine is. To ſay then, that I ſhould
leaue it, where it now lyeth pawned, and for eight and thirty ſhillings,
when it is richly more worth then fifty, I am ſure to ſuffer a
double endammagement thereby.
You may well imagine, that Aniolliero was now enraged beyond
all patience, to ſee himſelfe both robde of his money, and ouerborne
with preſumptuous language: wherefore, without making
any more replications, he gaue the ſpurre to his horſe, and rode away
towards Torreniero. Now fell Fortarigo into a more knauiſh
intention againſt Aniolliero, and being very ſpeedy in running, followed
apace after him in his ſhirt, crying out ſtill aloude to him all
the way, to let him haue his Doublet againe. Aniolliero riding on
very faſt, to free his eares from this idle importunity, it fortuned
that Fortarigo eſpied diuers countrey Pezants, laboring in the fields
about their buſineſſe, and by whom Aniolliero (of neceſſity) muſt
paſſe: To them he cryed out ſo loude as he could; Stay the Thiefe,
Stop the Thiefe, he rides away ſo faſt, hauing robde me.
They being prouided, ſome with Prongges, Pitchforkes and
Spades, and others with the like weapons fit for Husbandry, ſtept
into the way before Aniolliero: and beleeuing vndoubtedly, that
he had robde the man which purſued him in his ſhirt, ſtayed and
apprehended him. Whatſoeuer Aniolliero could doe or ſay, preuailed
not any thing with the vnmannerly Clownes, but when Fortarigo
was arriued among them, he braued Aniolliero moſt impudently,
ſaying.
What reaſon haue I to ſpoyle thy life (thou traiterous Villaine)
to rob that ſpoyle thy Maſter thus on the high way? Then turning
to the Countrey Boores: How much deare friends (quoth he) am
I beholding to you for this vnexpected kindneſſe? You behold in
what manner he left me in my Lodging, hauing firſt playd away all
my money at the Dice, and then deceiuing me of my horſe and garments
alſo: but had not you (by great good lucke) thus holpe mee
to ſtay him; a poore Gentleman had bin vndone for euer, and I
ſhould neuer haue found him againe.
Aniolliero auouched the truth of his wrong receiued, but the baſe
peazants, giuing credite onely to Fortarigoes lying exclamations:
tooke him from his horſe, deſpoyled him of all his wearing apparrell,
euen to the very Bootes from off his Legges: ſuffered him to
ride away from him in that manner, and Aniolliero left ſo in his
ſhirt, to dance a bare-foote Galliard after him, either towards Sienna,
or any place elſe.
Thus Aniolliero, purpoſing to viſite his Couſin the Cardinal like
a Gallant, and at the Marquiſate of Ancona, returned backe poorly
in his ſhirt vnto Buonconuento, and durſt not (for ſhame) repaire to
Sienna. In the end, he borrowed money on the other horſe which
Fortarigo rode on, and remained there in the Inne, whence riding
to Corſignano, where he had diuers Kinſmen and Friends, he continued
there ſo long with them, till he was better furniſhed from his
Father.
Thus you may perceiue, that the cunning Villanies of Fortarigo,
hindred the honeſt intended enterpriſe of Aniolliero, howbeit in fit
time and place, nothing afterward was left vnpuniſhed.
Calandrino became extraordinarily enamoured of a young Damoſell, named Nicholetta. Bruno prepared a Charme or writing for him, auouching conſtantly to him, that ſo ſoone as he touched the Damoſell therewith, ſhe ſhould follow him whither ſoeuer hee would haue her. She being gone to an appointed place with him, hee was found there by his wife, and dealt withall according to his deſeruing.
The Fift Nouell.
In iuſt reprehenſion of thoſe vaine-headed fooles, that are led and gouerned by idle perſwaſions.
BEcauſe the Nouell reported by Madame Neiphila was ſo
ſoone concluded, without much laughter, or commendation
of the whole Company: the Queene turned hir ſelfe
towards Madam Fiammetta, enioyning her to ſucceed in apt order;
& ſhe being as ready as ſodainly commanded, began as followeth.
Moſt gentle Ladies, I am perſwaded of your opinion in iudgement
with mine, that there is not any thing, which can bee ſpoken pleaſingly,
except it be conueniently ſuited with apt time and place: in
which reſpect, when Ladies and Gentlewomen are bent to diſcourſing,
the due election of them both are neceſſarily required. And
therefore I am not vnmindfull, that our meeting heere (ayming at
nothing more, then to out-weare the time with our generall contentment)
ſhould tye vs to the courſe of our pleaſure and recreation,
to the ſame conueniency of time and place; not ſparing, though
ſome haue bin nominated oftentimes in our paſſed arguments; yet,
if occaſion ſerue, and the nature of variety be well conſidered, wee
may ſpeake of the ſelfeſame perſons againe.
Now, notwithſtanding the actions of Calandrino haue beene indifferently
canuazed among vs; yet, remembring what Philoſtratus
not long ſince ſaide, That they intended to nothing more then matter
of mirth: I preſume the bodlier, to report another Nouell of
him, beſide them already paſt. And, were I willing to conceale the
truth, and cloath it in more circumſtantiall maner: I could make vſe
of contrary names, and paint it in a poeticall fiction, perhaps more
probable, though not ſo pleaſing. But becauſe wandring from the
truth of things, doth much diminiſh (in relation) the delight of the
hearers: I will build boldly on my fore-alledged reaſon, and tel you
truly how it hapned.
Niccholao Cornacchini was once a Citizen of ours, and a man of
great wealth; who, among other his rich poſſeſſions in Camerata,
builded there a very goodly houſe, which being perfected ready for
painting: he compounded with Bruno and Buffalmaco, who bicauſe
their worke required more helpe then their owne, they drew Nello
and Calandrino into their aſſociation, and began to proceed in their
buſineſſe. And becauſe there was a Chamber or two, hauing olde
moueables in them, as Bedding, Tables, and other Houſholdſtuffe
beſide, which were in the cuſtody of an old Woman that kepte the
houſe, without the helpe of any other ſeruants elſe, a Son vnto the
ſaide Niccholao, beeing named Phillippo, reſorted thither diuers
times, with one or other prety Damoſell in his company (in regard
he was vnmarried) where he would abide a day or two with her, &
then conuey her home againe.
At one time among the reſt, it chanced that he brought a Damoſell
thither named Nicholetta, who was maintained by a wily companion,
called Magione, in a dwelling which hee had at Camaldoli,
and (indeed) no honeſter then ſhe ſhould be. She was a very beautifull
young woman, wearing garments of great value, and (according
to her quality) well ſpoken, and of commendable carriage.
Comming forth of her Chamber one day, couered with a White
veyle, becauſe her haire hung looſe about her, which ſhee went to
waſh at a Well in the middle Court, bathing there alſo her face and
hands: Calandrino going (by chance) to the ſame Well for water,
gaue her a ſecret ſalutation. She kindly returning the like courteſie
to him, began to obſerue him aduiſedly: more, becauſe he looked
like a man newly come thither, then any handſomneſſe ſhe perceyued
in him.
Calandrino threw wanton glances at her, and ſeeing ſhe was both
faire and louely, began to finde ſome occaſion of tarrying, ſo that
he returned not with water to his other aſſociates, yet neither knowing
her, or daring to deliuer one word. She, who was not to learn
her leſſon in alluring, noting what affectionate regards (with baſhfulneſſe)
he gaue her: anſwered him more boldly with the like; but
meerly in ſcorning manner, breathing forth diuers diſſembled ſighs
among them: ſo that Calandrino became fooliſhly inueigled with
her loue, and would not depart out of the Court, vntill Phillippo,
ſtanding aboue in his Chamber window called her thence.
When Calandrino was returned backe to his buſineſſe, he could
do nothing elſe, but ſhake the head, ſigh, puffe, and blowe, which
being obſerued by Bruno (who alwayes ſitted him according to his
folly, as making a meer mockery of his very beſt behauiour) ſodainly
he ſaid. Why how now Calandrino? Sigh, puſſe, & blow man?
What may be the reaſon of theſe vnwonted qualities? Calandrino
immediately anſwered, ſaying: My friendly Companion Bruno, if
I had one to lend me a little helpe, I ſhould very quickely become
well enough. How? quoth Bruno, doth any thing offend thee, and
wilt thou not reueale it to thy friends? Deare Bruno, ſaid Calandrino,
there is a proper handſome woman here in the houſe, the goodlieſt
creature that euery any eye beheld, much fairer then the Queen
of Fairies her ſelfe, who is ſo deeply falne in loue with mee, as thou
wouldſt thinke it no leſſe then a wonder; and yet I neuer ſawe her
before, till yet while when I was ſent to fetch water. A very ſtrange
caſe, anſwer
•
d Bruno, take heede Calandrino, that ſhee bee not the
louely friend to Phillippo, our yong Maſter, for then it may proue a
dangerous matter.
Calandrino ſtood ſcratching his head an indifferent while, and
then ſodainly replyed thus. Now truſt me Bruno, it is to bee doubted,
becauſe he called her at his Window, and ſhe immediatly went
vp to his Chamber. But what doe I care if it be ſo? Haue not the
Gods themſelues bene beguiled of their Wenches, who were better
men then euer Phillippo can be, and ſhall I ſtand in feare of him?
Bruno replied: Be patient Calandrino, I will enquire what Woman
ſhe is, and if ſhe be not the wife or friend to our young maſter Phillippo,
with faire perſwaſions I can ouer-rule the matter, becauſe ſhee
is a familiar acquaintance of mine. But how ſhall wee doe, that
Buffalmaco may not know heereof? I can neuer ſpeake to her, if hee
be in my company. For Buffalmaco (quoth Calandrino) I haue no
feare of all, but rather of Nello, becauſe he is a neer Kinſman to my
wife, and he is able to vndo me quite, if once it ſhould come to his
hearing. Thou ſaiſt well, replyed Bruno, therefore the matter hath
neede to be very cleanly carried.
Now let me tell you, the Woman was well enough knowne to
Bruno, as alſo her quality of life, which Phillippo had acquainted
him withall, and the reaſon of her reſorting thither. Wherefore,
Calandrino going forth of the roome where they wrought, onely to
gaine another ſight of Nicholetta, Bruno reuealed the whole hiſtory
to Buffalmaco and Nello; they all concluding together, how this amorous
fit of the foole was to be followed. And when Calandrino
was returned backe againe; in whiſpering maner Bruno ſaid to him.
Haſt thou once more ſeene her? Yes, yes Bruno, anſwered Calandrino:
Alas, ſhe hath ſlaine me with her very eye, and I am no better
then a dead man. Be patient ſaid Bruno, I will goe and ſee whether
ſhe be the ſame woman which I take her for, or no: and if it proue
ſo, then neuer feare, but refer the buſineſſe vnto me.
Bruno deſcending downe the ſtaires, found Phillippo and Nicholetta
in conference together, and ſtepping vnto them, diſcourſed at
large, what manner of man Calandrino was, and how farre he was
falne in loue with her: ſo that they made a merry concluſion, what
ſhould be performed in this caſe, onely to make a paſtime of his
•
ot
begun loue. And being come backe againe to Calandrino, he ſaide.
It is the ſame woman whereof I told thee, and therefore wee muſt
worke wiſely in the buſineſſe: for if Phillippo perceiue any thing, all
the water in Arno will hardly ſerue to quench his fury. But what
wouldſt thou haue me ſay to her on thy behalfe, if I compaſſe the
meanes to ſpeake with her? Firſt of all (quoth Calandrino) and in
the prime place, tell her, that I wiſh infi
•
ite buſhels of thoſe bleſſings,
which makes Maides Mothers, and begetteth children. Next,
that I am onely hers, in any ſeruice ſhe wil command me. Dooeſt
thou vnderſtand me what I ſay? Sufficiently anſwered Bruno, leaue
all to me.
When ſupper time was come, that they gaue ouer working, and
were deſcended downe into the Court: there they found Phillippo
and Nicholetta readily attending to expect ſome beginning of amorous
behauiour, and Calandrino glanced ſuch leering lookes at her,
coughing and ſpetting with hummes and haes, yea in ſuch cloſe and
ſecret manner, that a ſtarke blinde ſight might verie eaſily haue perceyued
it.
She alſo on the other ſide, returned him ſuch queint and cunning
carriage, as enflamed him farre more furiouſly, euen as if hee
were ready to leape out of himſelfe. In the meane while, Phillippo,
Buffalmaco and the reſt that were there preſent, ſeeming as if they
were ſeriouſlie conſulting together, and perceiued nothing of his
fantaſtick behauior, according as Bruno had appointed, could ſcarſe
refraine from extremity of laughter, they noted ſuch antick trickes
in Calandrino.
Hauing ſpent an indifferent ſpace in this foppiſh folly, the houre
of parting came, but not without wonderful affliction to Calandrino;
and as they were going towards Florence, Bruno ſaide cloſely to
Calandrino. I dare aſſure thee, that thou haſt made her to conſume
and melt, euen like ice againſt the warme Sunne. On my word, if
thou wouldſt bring thy Gitterne, and ſit downe by vs, ſinging ſome
few amorous ſongs of thine owne making, when we are beneath about
our buſineſſe in the Court: ſhee would preſently leape out of
the Window, as being vnable to tarry from thee.
I like thy counſell well Bruno, anſwered Calandrino; but ſhall I
bring my Gitterne thither indeed? Yes, in any caſe, replied Bruno,
for Muſicke is a matter of mighty preuailing. Ah Bruno (quoth Calandrino)
thou wouldſt not credit me in the morning, when I tolde
thee, how the very ſight of my perſon had wounded her: I perceiued
it at the very firſt looke of her owne, for ſhee had no power to
conceale it. Who but my ſelfe could ſo ſoone haue enflamed her
affection, and being a woman of ſuch worth and beauty as ſhee is?
There are infinite proper handſome fellowes, that daily haunt the
company of dainty Damoſels, yet are ſo ſhallow in the affayres of
loue, as they are not able to win one wench of a thouſand, no, not
with all the wit they haue, ſuch is their extreame follie and ill fortune.
Then pauſing a while, and ſodainely rapping out a Louers Oath
or two, thus he proceeded. My deareſt Bruno, thou ſhalt ſee how I
can tickle my Gitterne, and what good ſport will enſue thereon. If
thou doſt obſerue me with iudgement, why man, I am not ſo old as
I ſeeme to be, and ſhe could perceiue it at the very firſt view; yea,
and ſhe ſhall finde it ſo too, when we haue leyſure to conſult vpon
further occaſions: I finde my ſelfe in ſuch a free and frolicke io
•
unditie
of ſpirit, that I will make her to follow me, euen as a fond woman
doth after her child.
But beware, ſaide Bruno, that thou do not gripe her ouer-hard,
and in kiſſing, bee carefull of biting, becauſe the teeth ſtand in thy
head like the pegges of a Lute, yet make a comely ſhew in thy faire
wide mouth, thy cheekes looking like two of our artificiall Roſes,
ſwelling amiably, when thy iawes are well fild with meat. Calandrino
hearing theſe hanſome commendations, thought himſelfe a man
of action already, going, ſinging, and frisking before his companie
ſo liuely, as if he had not bin in his skin.
On the morrow, carrying his Gitterne thither with him, to the no
little delight of his companions, hee both played and ſung a whole
Bed-role of Songs, not addicting himſelfe to any worke all the day:
but loitering fantaſtically, one while he gazed out at the window,
then ran to the gate, and oftentimes downe into the Court, onely
to haue a ſight of his Miſtreſſe. She alſo (as cunningly) encountred
all his follies, by ſuch directions as Bruno gaue her, and many more
beſide of her owne deuiſing, to quicken him ſtill with new occaſions:
Bruno plaid the Ambaſſador betweene them, in deliuering the
meſſages from Calandrino, and then returning her anſwers to him.
Sometimes when ſhe was abſent thence (which often hapned as occaſions
called her) then he would write letters in her name, & bring
them, as if they were ſent by her, to giue him hope of what hee deſired,
but becauſe ſhe was then among her kindred, yet ſhe could not
be vnmindfull of him.
In this manner, Bruno and Buffalmaco (who had the managing of
this amorous buſineſſe) made a meere Gregory of poore Calandrino,
cauſing him ſomtimes to ſend her, one while a pretty peece of
Iuory, then a faire wrought purſe, and a coſtly paire of kniues, with
other ſuch like friendly tokens: bringing him backe againe, as in requital
of them, counterfetted Rings of no valew, Bugles and bables,
which he eſteemed as matters of great moment. Moreouer, at diuers
cloſe and ſodain meetings, they made him pay for many dinners &
ſuppers, amounting to indifferent charges, onely to be careful in the
furtherance of his loue-ſuit, and to conceale it from his wife.
Hauing worne out three or foure months ſpace in this fond and
friuolous manner, without any other ſucceſſe then as hath bene declared;
and Calandrino perceiuing, that the worke vndertaken by
him and his fellowes, grew very neere vppon the finiſhing, which
would barre him of any longer reſorting thither: hee began to ſolicite
Bruno more importunately, then all the while before he hadde
done. In regard whereof, Nicholetta being one day come thither, &
Bruno hauing conferred both with her and Phillippo, with ful determination
what was to be done, he began with Calandrino, ſaying.
My honeſt Neighbour and Friend, this Woman hath made a thouſand
promiſes, to graunt what thou art ſo deſirous to haue, and I
plainly perceiue that ſhe hath no ſuch meaning, but meerely plaies
with both our noſes. In which reſpect, ſeeing ſhe is ſo perfidious,
and will not perfourme one of all her faithfull-made promiſes: if
thou wilt conſent to haue it ſo, ſhe ſhall be compelled to do it whether
ſhe will or no. Yea marry Bruno, anſwered Calandrino, that
were an excellent courſe indeede, if it could be done, and with expedition.
Bruno ſtood muſing awhile to himſelfe, as if he had ſome ſtrange
ſtratagem in his braine, & afterward ſaid. Haſt thou ſo much corage
Calandrino, as but to handle a peece of written parchment, which I
will giue thee? Yes, that I haue anſwered Calandrino, I hope that
needed not to be doubted. Well then, ſaide Bruno, procure that I
may haue a piece of Virgin Parchment brought mee, with a liuing
Bat or Reremouſe; three graines of Incenſe, and an hallowed Candle,
then leaue me to effect what ſhal content thee. Calandrino watched
all the next night following, with ſuch preparation as he could
make, onely to catch a Bat; which being taken at the laſt, he broght
it aliue to Bruno (with all the other materials appointed) who taking
him alone into a backer Chamber, there hee wrote diuers follies
on the Parchment, in the ſhape of ſtrange and vnvſuall Charracters,
which he deliuered to Calandrino, ſaying: Be bold Calandrino,
and build conſtantly vppon my wordes, that if thou canſt but
touch her with this ſacred Charractred charme, ſhe will immediately
follow thee, and fulfil whatſoeuer thou pleaſeſt to command hir.
Wherefore, if Phillippo do this day walke any whither abroad from
this houſe, preſume to ſalute her, in any manner whatſoeuer it be, &
touching her with the written lines, go preſently to the barn of hay,
which thou perceiueſt ſo neere adioyning, the onely conuenient
place that can be, becauſe few or none reſort thither. She ſhall (in
deſpight of her blood) follow thee; and when thou haſt her there,
I leaue thee then to thy valiant victory. Calandrino ſtood on tiptoe,
like a man newly molded by Fortune, and warranted Bruno to fulfil
all effectually.
Nello, whom Calandrino moſt of all feared and miſtruſted, had a
hand as deepe as any of the reſt in this deceite, and was as forward
alſo to haue it performed, by Brunoes direction, hee went vnto Florence,
where being in company with Calandrinoes Wife, thus hee
began.
Couſine, thine vnkinde vſage by thine husband, is not vnknown
to me, how he did beate thee (beyond the compaſſe of all reaſon)
when he brought home ſtones from the plain of Mugnone; in which
regard, I am very deſirous to haue thee reuenged on him: which if
thou wilt not do, neuer repute me heereafter for thy Kinſman and
Friend. He is falne in loue with a Woman of the common gender,
one that is to be hired for money: he hath his priuate meetings with
her, and the place is partly knowne to me, as by a ſecret appointment
(made very lately) I am credibly giuen to vnderſtand; wherefore
walke preſently along with me, and thou ſhalt take him in the
heat of his knauery.
All the while as theſe words were vttering to her, ſhee could not
diſſemble her inward impatience, but ſtarting vp as halfe franticke
with fury, ſhe ſaid. O notorious villaine! Dareſt thou abuſe thine
honeſt wife ſo baſely? I ſweare by bleſſed Saint Bridge
•
, thou ſhalt
be paid with coyne of thi
••
owneſtampe. So caſting a light wearing
Cloake about her, and taking a yong woman in her company;
ſhee went away with Nell
•
in no meane haſte. Bruno ſeeing her
comming a farre off, ſaid to Phillippo: You Sir, you know what is
to be done, act your part according to your appointment. Phillippo
went immediately into the roome, where Calandrino and his other
Conſorts were at worke, and ſaid to them. Honeſt friends, I haue
certaine occaſions which command mine inſtant being at Florence:
worke hard while I am abſent, and I will not be vnthankefull for it.
Away hee departed from them, and hid himſelfe in a conuenient
place, where he could not be deſcryed, yet ſee whatſoeuer Calandrino
did: who when he imagined Phillippo to be farre enough off,
deſcended downe into the Court, where he found Nicholetta ſitting
alone, and going towards her, began to enter into diſcourſing
with her.
She knowing what remained to bee done on her behalfe, drew
ſomewhat neere him, and ſhewed her ſelfe more familiar then formerly
ſhe had done: by which fauourable meanes, he touched her
with the charmed Parchment, whibh was no ſooner done; but with
out vſing any other kinde of language, hee went to the hay-Barne,
whither Nicholletta followed him, and both being entred, he cloſed
the Barne doore, and then ſtood gazing on her, as if hee had neuer
ſeene her before. Standing ſtil as in a ſtudy, or bethinking himſelfe
what he ſhould ſay: ſhe began to vſe affable geſture to him, and taking
him by the hand, made ſhew as if ſhee meant to kiſſe him,
which yet ſhe reframed, though he (rather then his life) would gladly
haue had it. Why how now deare Calandrino (quoth ſhe) iewell
of my ioy, comfort of my heart, how many times haue I longed
for thy ſweet Company? And enioying it now, according to mine
owne deſire, doſt thou ſtand like a Statue, or man alla morte? The
rare tunes of the Gitterne, but (much more) the melodious accents
of thy voyce, excelling Orpheus or Amphion, ſo rauiſhed my ſoule,
as I know not how to expreſſe the depth of mine affection; and yet
haſt thou brought me hither, onely to looke babies in mine eyes,
and not ſo much as ſpeake one kinde word to me?
Bruno and Buffalmaco, hauing hid themſelues cloſe behinde Philippo,
they both heard and ſaw all this amourous conflict, and as
Calandrino was quickning his courage, and wiping his mouth, with
intent to kiſſe her: his wife and Nello entred into the Barne, which
cauſed Nicholetta to get her gone preſently, ſheltring her ſelf where
Philippo lay ſcouting. But the enraged woman ranne furiouſly
vpon poore daunted Calandrino, making ſuch a pitiful maſſacre
with her nailes, and tearing the haire from his head, as hee
meerely looked like an infected Anatomy. Fowle loathſome dog
(quoth ſhe) muſt you be at your minions, and leaue mee hungerſtarued
at home? An olde knaue with (almoſt) neuer a good tooth
in thy head, and yet art thou neighing after young wenches? haſt
thou not worke enough at home, but muſt bee gadding in to other
mens grounds? Are theſe the fruites of wandring abroad?
Calandrino being in this pittifull perplexity, ſtood like one neither
aliue nor dead, nor daring to vſe any reſiſtance againſt her; but
fell on his knees before his Wife, holding vp his hands for mercy,
and entreating her (for charities ſake) not to torment him any more:
for he had committed no harme at all, and the Gentlewoman was
his Maſters Wife, who came with no ſuch intent thither, as ſhee
fondly imagined. Wife, or wife not (quoth ſhe) I would haue none
to meddle with my Husband, but I that haue the moſt right to
him.
Bruno and Buffalmaco, who had laughed all this while heartily at
this paſtime, with Phillippo and Nicholetta; came running in haſte
to know the reaſon of this loude noiſe, and after they had pacified
the woman with gentle perſwaſions: they aduiſed Calandrino, to
walke with his Wife to Florence, and returne no more to worke
there againe, leaſt Phillippo hearing what had hapned, ſhould be reuenged
on him with ſome outrage. Thus poore Calandrino miſerably
miſuſed and beaten, went home to Florence with his Wife,
ſcoulded and raild at all the way, beſide his other moleſtations (day
and night) afterward: his Companions, Phillippo and Nicholetta,
making themſelues merry at his miſ-fortune.
Two yong Gentlemen, the one named Panuccio, and the other Adriano, lodged one night in a poore Inne, where one of them went to bed to the Hoſtes Daughter, and the other (by miſtaking his way in the darke) to the Hoſtes Wife. He which lay with the daughter, happened afterward to the Hoſtes bed, and told him what he had done, as thinking he ſpake to his owne companyon. Diſcontentment growiug betweene them, the Mother perceiuing her errour, went to bed to her daughter, and with diſcreete language, made a generall pacification.
The Sixt Nouell.
Wherein is manifeſted, that an offence committed ignorantly, and by miſtaking; ought to be couered with good aduiſe, and ciuill diſcretion.
CAlandrino, whoſe miſhaps had ſo many times made the
whole aſſembly merry, and this laſt paſſing among them
with indifferent commendations: vpon a generall ſilence
commanded, the Queene gaue order to Pamphilus, that hee ſhould
follow next, as indeed he did, beginning thus. Praiſe-worthy Ladies,
the name of Nicoletta, ſo fondly affected by Calandrino, putteth
mee in minde of a Nouell, concerning another Nicoletta,
of whom I purpoſe to ſpeake: to the ende you may obſerue
how by a ſudden wary fore-ſight, a diſcreet woman compaſſed the
meanes to auoyde a notorious ſcandall.
On the plaine of Mugnone, neere to Florence, dwelt (not long
ſince) an honeſt meane man, who kept a poore Inne or Oſtery for
trauellers, where they might haue ſome ſlender entertainement for
their money. As he was but a poore man, ſo his houſe affoorded
but very ſmall receit of gueſts, not lodging any but on neceſſity,
and ſuch as he had ſome knowledge of. This honeſt poore hoſte
had a woman (ſufficiently faire) to his wife, by whom hee had alſo
two children, the one a comely young maiden, aged about fifteene
yeares, and the other a ſonne, not fully (as yet) a yeare old, and ſucking
on the mothers breſt.
A comely youthfull Gentleman of our City, became amorouſly
affected to the Damoſell, reſorting thither diuers times as hee trauelled
on the way, to expreſſe how much he did reſpect her. And
ſhe accounting her fortune none of the meaneſt, to bee beloued by
ſo youthfull a Gallant, declared ſuch vertuous and modeſt demeanour,
as might deſerue his beſt opinion of her: ſo that their loue
grew to an equall ſimpathy, and mutuall contentment of them
both, in expectation of further effects; he being named Panuccio,
and ſhe Nicholletta.
The heate of affection thus encreaſing day by day, Panuccio
grew exceedingly deſirous to enioy the fruits of his long continued
liking, and diuers deuiſes muſtred in his braine, how he might compaſſe
one nights lodging in her fathers houſe, whereof hee knew euery
part and parcell, as not doubting to effect what hee deſired,
yet vndiſcouered by any, but the maide her ſelfe.
According as his intention aymed, ſo he longed to put it in execution,
and hauing imparted his mind to an honeſt loyall friend,
named Adriano, who was acquainted with the courſe of his loue:
hyring two horſes, and hauing Portmantues behind them, filled
with matters of no moment, they departed from Florence, as if they
had ſome great iourney to ride. Hauing ſpent the day time where
themſelues beſt pleaſed, darke night being entred, they arriued on
the plaine of Mugnone, where, as if they were come from the parts
of Romanio, they rode directly to this poore Inne, and knocking at
the doore, the honeſt Hoſte (being familiar and friendly to all commers)
opened the doore, when Panuccio ſpake in this manner to
him. Good man, we muſt requeſt one nights lodging with you,
for we thought to haue reached ſo farre as Florence, but dark night
preuenting vs, you ſee at what a late houre wee are come hither.
Signior Panuccio, anſwered the hoſte, it is not vnknowne to you,
how vnfiting my poore houſe is, for entertaining ſuch gueſts as you
are: Neuertheleſſe, ſeeing you are ouertaken by ſo vnſeaſonable an
houre, and no other place is neere for your receite; I will gladly
lodge you ſo well as I can.
When they were diſmounted from their horſes, and entred into
the ſimple Inne: hauing taken order for feeding their horſes, they
accepted ſuch prouiſion, as the place and time afforded, requeſting
the Hoſte to ſuppe with them. Now I am to tell you, that there
was but one ſmall Chamber in the houſe, wherin ſtood three beds,
as beſt the Hoſte had deuiſed to place them, two of them ſtanding
by the walles ſide, and the third fronting them both, but with ſuch
cloſe and narrow paſſage, as very hardly could one ſtep betweene
them. The beſt of theſe three beds was appointed for the Gentlemen,
and therein theyd lay them down to reſt, but ſleepe they could
not, albeit they diſſembled it very formally. In the ſecond Bed
was Nicholetta the daughter, lodged by her ſelfe, and the father and
mother in the third, and becauſe ſhe was to giue the child ſucke in
the night time, the Cradle (wherein it lay) ſtood cloſe by their
beds ſide, becauſe the childes crying or any other occaſion concerning
it, ſhould not diſquiet the Gentlemen.
Panuccio hauing ſubtily obſerued all this, and in what manner
they went to bed; after ſuch a ſpace of time, as he imagined them
to be all faſt aſleepe, he aroſe very ſoftly, and ſtealing to the bed of
Nicholetta, lay downe gently by her. And albeit ſhe ſeemed ſomewhat
afraid at the firſt, yet when ſhe perceiued who it was, ſhee rather
bad him welcome, then ſhewed her ſelfe any way diſcontented.
Now while Panuccio continued thus with the maide, it fortuned
that a Cat threw down ſomewhat in the houſe, the noiſe wherof
awaked the wife, and fearing greater harme, then (indeed) had
hapned, ſhe aroſe without a Candle, and went groping in the darke,
towards the place where ſhee heard the noyſe. Adriano, who had
no other meaning but well, found occaſion alſo to riſe, about ſome
naturall neceſſity, and making his paſſage in the darke, ſtumbled on
the childes Cradle (in the way) where the woman had ſet it, and being
vnable to paſſe by, without remouing it from the place: tooke
and ſet it by his owne beds ſide, and hauing done the buſineſſe for
which he roſe, returned to his bed againe, neuer remembring to
ſet the Cradle where firſt he found it.
The Wife hauing found the thing throwne downe being of no
value or moment, cared not for lighting any candle; but rating the
Cat, returned backe, feeling for the bed where her Husband lay, but
finding not the Cradle there, ſhe ſaid to her ſelfe. What a fooliſh
woman am I, that cannot well tell my ſelfe what I doe? Inſtead of
my Husbands bed, I am going to both my gueſts.
So, ſtepping on a little further, ſhe found the childes Cradle, and
laid her ſelfe downe by Adriano, thinking ſhee had gone right to
her Husband. Adriano being not yet falne aſleepe, feeling the hoſteſſe
in bed with him: tooke aduantage of ſo faire an occaſion offered,
and what he did, is no buſineſſe of mine, (as I heard) neither
found the woman any fault. Matters comming to paſſe in this
ſtrange manner, and Panuccio fearing, leſt ſleepe ſeazing on him,
he might diſgrace the maides reputation: taking his kinde farewell
of her, with many kiſſes and ſweet imbraces: returned againe
to his owne Bed, but meeting with the Cradle in his way, and thinking
it ſtood by the hoſtes Bed, (as truely it did ſo at the firſt) went
backe from the Cradle, and ſtept into the hoſtes Bed indeed, who
awaked vpon his very entrance, albeit he ſlept very ſoundly before.
Panuccio ſuppoſing that he was laid downe by his louing friend
Adriano, merrily ſaid to the Hoſte. I proteſt to thee, as I am a Gentleman,
Nicholetta is a dainty delicate wench, and worthy to be a
very good mans wife: this night ſhee hath giuen mee the ſweeteſt
entertainement, as the beſt Prince in the world can wiſh no better,
and I haue kiſt her moſt kindly for it. The Hoſte hearing theſe
newes, which ſeemed very vnwelcome to him, ſaid firſt to himſelf:
What make ſuch a deuill heere in my Bedde? Afterward being
more raſhly angry, then well aduiſed, hee ſaid to Panuccio. Canſt
thou makes vaunt of ſuch a mounſtrous villany? Or thinkeſt thou,
that heauen hath not due vengeance in ſtore, to requite all wicked
deeds of darkeneſſe? If all ſhould ſleepe, yet I haue courage ſufficient
to right my wrong, and yet as olde as I am thou ſhalt be ſure to
finde it.
Our amorous Panuccio being none of the wiſeſt young men
in the world, perceiuing his errour; ſought not to amend it, (as well
he might haue done) with ſome queint ſtraine of wit, carried in
quicke and cleanly manner, but angerly anſwered. What ſhall I
find that thou darſt doe to me? am I any way afraid of thy threatnings?
The Hoſtes imagining ſhe was in bed with her Husband,
ſaid to Adriano: Harke Husband, I thinke our Gueſts are quarrelling
together, I hope they will doe no harme to one another. Adriano
laughing outright, anſwered. Let them alone, and become
friends againe as they fell out: perhaps they dranke too much yeſternight.
The woman perceiuing that it was her husband that quarrelled,
and diſtinguiſhing the voyce of Adriano from his: knew preſently
where ſhee was, and with whom; wherefore hauing wit at will,
and deſirous to cloude an error vnaduiſedly committed, and with
no willing conſent of her ſelfe: without returning any more words,
preſently ſhe roſe, and taking the Cradle with the child in it, remoued
it thence to her daughters bed ſide, although ſhee had no
light to helpe her, and afterward went to bed to her, where (as if
ſhe were but newly awaked) ſhe called her Husband, to vnderſtand
what angry ſpeeches had paſt betweene him and Panuccio. The
Hoſte replyed, ſaying. Didſt thou not heare him wife, brag & boaſt,
how he hath lyen this night with our daughter Nicholetta? Husband
(quoth ſhe) he is no honeſt Gentleman; if hee ſhould ſay ſo,
and beleeue me it is a manifeſt lye, for I am in bed with her my
ſelfe, and neuer yet cloſed mine eyes together, ſince the firſt houre I
laid me downe: it is vnmannerly done of him to ſpeake it, and you
are little leſſe then a logger-head, if you doe beleeue it. This proceedeth
from your bibbing and ſwilling yeſternight, which (as it
ſeemeth) maketh you to walke about the roome in your ſleepe,
dreaming of wonders in the night ſeaſon: it were no great ſinne if
you brake your necks, to teach you keepe a fairer quarter; and how
commeth it to paſſe, that Signior Panuccio could not keepe himſelfe
in his owne bed?
Adriano (on the other ſide) perceiuing how wiſely the woman
excuſed her owne ſhame and her daughters; to backe her in a buſineſſe
ſo cunningly begun, he called to Panuccio, ſaying. Haue not I
tolde thee an hundred times, that thou art not fit to lye any where,
out of thine owne lodging? What a ſhame is this baſe imperfection
to thee, by riſing and walking thus in the night-time, according
as thy dreames doe wantonly delude thee, and cauſe thee to forſake
thy bed, telling nothing but lies and fables, yet auouching them for
manifeſt truthes? Aſſuredly this will procure no meane perill vnto
thee: Come hither, and keepe in thine owne bedde for meere
ſhame.
When the honeſt meaning Hoſt heard, what his own Wife and
Adriano had confirmed: he was verily perſwaded, that Panuccio
ſpake in a dreame all this while: And to make it the more conſtantly
apparant, Panuccio (being now growne wiſer by others example)
lay talking and blundring to himſelfe, euen as if dreames or
perturbations of the minde did much moleſt him, with ſtrange diſtractions
in franticke manner. Which the Hoſte perceiuing, and
compaſſionating his caſe, as one man ſhould do anothers: he tooke
him by the ſhoulders, iogging and hunching him, ſaying. Awake
Signior Panuccio, and get you gone hence to your owne bed.
Panuccio, yawning and ſtretching out his limbes, with vnuſuall
groanes and reſpirations, ſuch as (better) could bee hardly diſſembled:
ſeemed to wake as out of a traunce, and calling his friend
Adriano, ſaid.
Adriano, is it day, that thou doſt waken me? It may be day or
night replyed Adriano, for both (in theſe fits) are alike to thee. Ariſe
man for ſhame, and come to thine lodging. Then faining to be
much troubled and ſleepie, he aroſe from the hoaſt, and went to Adrianoes
bed.
When it was day, and all in the houſe riſen, the hoaſt began to
ſmile at Panuccio, mocking him with his idle dreaming and talking
in the night.
So, falling from one merry matter to another, yet without any
miſlike at all: the Gentlemen, hauing their houſes prepared, and
their Portmantues faſtened behind, drinking to their hoaſt, mounted
on horſebacke, and they roade away towards Florence, no leſſe
contented with the manner of occaſions happened, then the effects
they ſorted to. Afterward, other courſes were taken, for the continuance
of this begun pleaſure with Nicholetta, who made her mother
beleeue, that Panuccio did nothing elſe but dreame. And the
mother her ſelfe remembring how kindely Adriano had vſed
her (a fortune not expected by her before:) was more then halfe
of the minde, that
•
he did then dreame alſo, while ſhe was waking.
Talano de Moleſe dreamed, That a Wolfe rent and tore his wiues face and throate. Which dreame he told to her, with aduiſe to keep her ſelfe out of danger; which ſhe refuſing to doe, receiued vvhat followed.
The Seuenth Nouell.
Whereby (with ſome indifferent reaſon) it is concluded, that Dreames do not alwayes fall out to be leaſings.
BY the concluſion of Pamphilus his Nouel, wherein the womans
ready wit, at a time of ſuch neceſſity, carried deſerued
commendations: the Queen gaue command to Madam
Pampinea, that ſhe ſhould next begin with hers, and ſo ſhe did,
in this manner. In ſome diſcourſes (gracious Ladies) already paſt
among vs, the truth of apparitions in dreames hath partly bin approued,
whereof very many haue made a mockery. Neuertheleſſe,
whatſoeuer hath heeretofore bin ſayde, I purpoſe to acquaint you
with a very ſhort Nouell, of a ſtrange accident happening vnto a
neighbour of mine, in not crediting a Dreame which her Husband
told her.
I cannot tell, whether you knew Talano de Moleſe, or no, a man
of much honour, who tooke to wife a yong Gentlewoman, named
Margarita, as beautifull as the beſt: but yet ſo peeuiſh, ſcornefull,
and fantaſticall, that ſhe diſdained any good aduice giuen her; neyther
could any thing be done, to cauſe her contentment; which abſurd
humors were highly diſpleaſing to her husband: but in regard
he knew not how to helpe it, conſtrainedly he did endure it. It came
to paſſe, that Talano being with his wife, at a ſummer-houſe of his
owne in the country, he dreamed one night, that he ſaw his Wife
walking in a faire wood, which adioyned neere vnto his houſe, and
while ſhe thus continued there, he ſeemed to ſee iſſue foorth from a
corner of the ſaid Wood, a great and furious Wolfe, which leaping
ſodainly on her, caught her hy the face and throate, drawing
her downe to the earth, and offering to drag her thence. But he crying
out for helpe, recouered her from the Wolfe, yet hauing her
face and throat very pitifully rent and torne.
In regard of this terrifying dreame, when Talano was riſen in the
morning, and ſate conuerſing with his wife, he ſpake thus vnto hir.
Woman, although thy froward wilfull Nature be ſuch, as hath not
permitted me one pleaſing day with thee, ſince firſt we becam man
and wife, but rather my life hath bene moſt tedious to me, as fearing
ſtill ſome miſcheefe ſhould happen to thee: yet let mee now in louing
manner aduiſe thee, to follow my counſell, and (this day) not
to walke abroad out of this houſe. She demanded a reaſon for this
aduice of his. He related to her euery particular of his dreame, adding
with all theſe ſpeeches.
True it is Wife (quoth he) that little credit ſhould bee giuen to
dreames: neuertheleſſe, when they deliuer aduertiſement of harmes
to enſue, there is nothing loſt by ſhunning and auoiding them. She
fleering in his face, and ſhaking her head at him, replyed. Such
harmes as thou wiſheſt, ſuch thou dreameſt of. Thou pretendeſt
much pittie and care of me, but all to no other end: but what miſcheefes
thou dreameſt happening vnto mee, ſo wouldeſt thou ſee
them effected on me. Wherefore, I will well enough looke to my
ſelfe, both this day, and at all times elſe: becauſe thou ſhalt neuer
make thy ſelfe merry, with any ſuch misfortune as thou wiſheſt vnto
me.
Well Wife, anſwered Talano, I knew well enough before, what
thou wouldſt ſay: An vnſound head is ſoone ſcratcht with the very
gentleſt Combe: but beleeue as thou pleaſeſt. As for my ſelfe, I
ſpeake with a true and honeſt meaning ſoule, and once againe I do
aduiſe thee, to keepe within our doores all this day: at leaſt wiſe beware,
that thou walke not into our wood, bee it but in regard of my
dreame. Well ſir (quoth ſhe ſcoffingly) once you ſhall ſay, I followed
your counſell: but within her ſelfe ſhe fell to this murmuring.
Now I perceiue my husbands cunning colouring, & why I muſt not
walke this day into our wood: he hath made a compact with ſome
common Queane, cloſely to haue her company there, and is afraide
leaſt I ſhold take them tardy. Belike he would haue me feed among
blinde folke, and I were worthy to bee thought a ſtarke foole, if I
ſhould not preuent a manifeſt trechery, being intended againſt me.
Go thither therefore I will, and tarry there all the whole day long;
but I will meet with him in his merchandize, and ſee the Pink wherin
he aduentures.
After this her ſecret conſultation, her husband was no ſooner
gone forth at one doore, but ſhee did the like at another, yet ſo ſecretly
as poſſibly ſhe could deuiſe to doe, and (without any delaying)
ſhe went to the Wood, wherein ſhe hid her ſelfe very cloſely,
among the thickeſt of the buſhes, yet could diſcerne euery way about
her, if any body ſhould offer to paſſe by her. While ſhee kept
her ſelfe in this concealment, ſuſpecting other myſterious matters,
as her idle imagination had tutord her, rather then the danger of any
Wolfe: out of a brakie thicket by her, ſodainly ruſhed a huge &
dreadfull Wolfe, as hauing found her by the ſent, mounting vppe,
and graſping her throat in his mouth, before ſhe ſaw him, or could
call to heauen for mercy.
Being thus ſeiſed of her, he carried her as lightly away, as if ſhee
had bin no heauier then a Lambe, ſhe being (by no meanes) able to
cry, becauſe he held her ſo faſt by the throate, and hindred any helping
of her ſelfe. As the Wolfe carried her thus from thence he had
quite ſtrangled her, if certaine Shepheards had not met him, who
with their outcries and exclaimes at the Wolfe, cauſed him to let
her fall, and haſt away to ſaue his owne life. Notwithſtanding the
harme done to her throat and face, the ſhepheards knew her, and
caried her home to her houſe, where ſhe remained a long while after,
carefully attended by Phyſitians and Chirurgians.
Now, although they were very expert and cunning men all, yet
could they not ſo perfectly cure her, but both her throate, and part
of her face were ſo blemiſhed, that whereas ſhe ſeemed a rare creature
before, ſhe was now deformed and much vnſightly. In regard
of which ſtrange alteration, being aſhamed to ſhew her ſelfe in any
place, where formerly ſhe had bene ſeene: ſhe ſpent her time in ſorrow
and mourning, repenting her inſolent and ſcornfull carriage, as
alſo her raſh running forth into danger, vpon a fooliſh and iealous
ſurmiſe, beleeuing her husbands dreames the better for euer after.
Blondello (in a merry maner) cauſed Guiotto to beguile himſelfe of a good dinner: for which deceit, Guiotto became cunningly reuenged, by procuring Blondello to be vnreaſonably beaten and miſuſed.
The Eight Nouell.
Whereby plainly appeareth, that they which take delight in deceiuing others, do well deſerue to be deceiued themſelues.
IT was a generall opinion in the whole Iouiall Companie,
that whatſoeuer Talano ſaw in his ſleepe, was not anie
dreame, but rather a viſion: conſidering, euery part thereof
fell out ſo directly, without the leſt failing. But when ſilence was
enioyned, then the Queene gaue forth by euident demonſtration,
that Madam Lauretta was next to ſucceed, whereupon ſhe thus began.
As all they (iudicious hearers) which haue this day ſpoken before
me, deriued the ground or proiect of their Nouels, from ſome
other argument ſpoken of before: euen ſo, the cruell reuendge of
the Scholler, yeſterday diſcourſed at large by Madame Pampinea,
maketh me to remember another Tale of like nature, ſome-what
greeuous to the ſufferer, yet not in ſuch cruell meaſure inflicted, as
that on Madam Helena.
There dwelt ſometime in Florence, one who was generally called
by the name of Guiotto, a man being the greateſt Gourmand, and
groſſeſt feeder, as euer was ſeene in any Countrey, all his meanes &
procurements meerly vnable to maintaine expences for filling his
belly. But otherwiſe he was of ſufficient and commendable carriage,
fairely demea
•
ed, and well diſcourſing on any argument: yet,
not as a curious and ſpruce Courtier, but rather a frequenter of
rich mens Tables, where choice of good cheere is ſildome wanting,
& ſuch ſhould haue his company, albeit not inuited, yet (like a bold
intruder) he had the courage to bid himſelfe welcome.
At the ſame time, and in our City of Florence alſo, there was another
man, named Blondello, very low of ſtature, yet comly formed,
quicke witted, more neat and brisk then a Butter flye, alwaies wearing
a wrought ſilke cap on his head, and not a haire ſtaring out of
order, but the tuft flouriſhing aboue the forehead, and he ſuch another
trencher-fly for the table, as our forenamed Guiotto was. It ſo
fel out on a morning in the Lent time, that hee went into the Fiſhmarket,
where he bought two goodly Lampreyes, for Meſſer Viero
de Cherchi, and was eſpied by Guiotto, who (comming to Blondello)
ſaid. What is the meaning of this coſt, and for whom is it? Whereto
Blondello thus anſwered. Yeſternight, three other Lampries, far
fairer and fatter then theſe, and a whole Sturgeon, were ſent vnto
Meſſer Corſo Donati, and being not ſufficient to feede diuers Gentlemen,
whom hee hath inuited this day to dine with him, hee cauſed
me to buy theſe two beſide: Doeſt not thou intend to make one among
them? Yes I warrant thee, replied Guiotto, thou knowſt I can
inuite my ſelfe thither, without any other bidding.
So parting; about the houre of dinner time, Guiotto went to the
houſe of the ſaide Meſſer Corſo, whom he found ſitting and talking
with certain of his neighbors, but dinner was not (as yet) ready, neither
were they come thither to dinner. Meſſer Corſo demaunded of
Guiotto, what newes with him, and whither he went? Why Sir (ſaid
Guiotto) I come to dine with you, and your good company. Wherto
Meſſer Corſo anſwered, That he was welcom, & his other friends
being gone, dinner was ſerued in, none els therat preſent but Meſſer
Corſo and Guiotto: al the diet being a poore diſh of Peaſe, a litle piece
of Tunny, & a few ſmal fiſhes fried, without any other diſhes to follow
after. Guiotto ſeeing no better fare, but being diſapointed of his
expectation, as longing to feed on the Lampries and Sturgeon, and
ſo to haue made a ful dinner indeed was of a quick apprehenſion, &
apparantly perceiued, that Blondello had meerly guld him in a knauery,
which did not a litle vex him, and made him vow to be reuenged
on Blondello, as he could compaſſe occaſion afterward.
Before many daies were paſt, it was his fortune to meete with
Blondello, who hauing told this ieſt to diuers of his friends, and much
good merriment made thereat: he ſaluted Guiotto in ceremonious
manner, ſaying. How didſt thou like the fat Lampreyes and Sturgeon,
which thou fedſt on at the houſe of Meſſer Corſo Donati? Wel
Sir (anſwered Guiotto) perhaps before eight dayes paſſe ouer my
head, thou ſhalt meet with as pleaſing a dinner as I did. So, parting
away from Blondello, he met with a Porter or burthen-bearer, ſuch
as are vſually ſent on errands; and hyring him to deliuer a meſſage
for him, gaue him a glaſſe bottle, and bringing him neere to the Halhouſe
of Cauicciuli, ſhewed him there a knight, called Signior Phillipo
Argenti, a man of huge ſtature, ſtout, ſtrong, vainglorious, fierce
and ſooner mooued to anger then any other man. To him (quoth
Guiotto) thou muſt go with this bottle in thy hand, and ſay thus to
him. Sir, Blondello ſent me to you, and courteouſly entreateth you,
that you would enrubinate this glaſſe bottle with your beſt Claret
Wine; becauſe he would make merry with a few friends of his. But
beware he lay no hand on thee, becauſe he may bee eaſily induced
to miſuſe thee, and ſo my buſineſſe be diſappointed. Well Sir replied
the Porter, ſhal I ſay any thing elſe vnto him? No (quoth Guiotto)
only go and deliuer this meſſage, and when thou art returned, Ile
pay thee for thy paines.
The Porter being gone to the houſe, deliuered his meſſage to the
knight, who being a man of no great ciuill breeding; but furious,
raſh, and inconſiderate: preſently conceiued, that Blondello (whom
he knew well enough) ſent this meſſage in meere mockage of him,
and ſtarting vp with fiery lookes, ſaid: What enrubination of Claret
ſhould I ſend him? and what haue I to do with him, or his drunken
friends? Let him and thee go hang your ſelues together. So he
ſtept to catch hold on the Porter, but he (being well warnd before)
was quicke and nimble, and eſcaping from him, returned backe to
Guiotto (who obſerued all) and told him the anſwer of Signior Phillippo.
Guiotto not a little contented, paied the Porter, and taried not
in any place til he met with Blondello, to whom he ſaid. When waſt
thou at the Hall of Cauicciuli? Not a long while, anſwered Blundello,
but why doſt thou demand ſuch a queſtion? Becauſe (quoth Guiotto)
Signior Phillippo hath ſought about for thee, yet knowe not I
what he would haue with thee. Is it ſo? replied Blondello, then I wil
walke thither preſently, to vnderſtand his pleaſure.
When Blondello was thus parted from him, Guiotto folowed not
farre off behind him, to behold the iſſue of this angry buſineſſe; and
Signior Phillippo, becauſe he could not catch the Porter, continued
much diſtempred, fretting and fuming, in regard he could not comprehend
the meaning of the Porters meſſage: but onely ſurmized,
that Blondello (by the procurement of ſome body elſe) had done this
in ſcorne of him. While he remained thus deeply diſcontented, he
eſpied Blondello comming towards him, and meeting him by the
way, he ſtept cloſe to him, and gaue him a cruell blow on the face,
cauſing his noſe to fall out a bleeding. Alas Sir, ſaid Blondello, wherefore
do you ſtrike me? Signior Phillippo, catching him by the haire
of the head, trampled his wrought night-cap in the dirt, & his cloke
alſo; when, laying many violent blowes on him, he ſaid. Villanous
Traitor as thou art, Ile teach thee what it is to enrubinate with Claret,
either thy ſelfe, or any of thy cupping companions: Am I a
child, to be ieſted withall?
Nor was he more furious in words, then in ſtrokes alſo, beating
him about the face, hardly leauing any haire on his head, and dragging
him along in the mire, ſpoyling all his garments, and he not able
(from the firſt blow giuen) to ſpeake a word in defence of himſelfe.
In the end, Signior Phillippo hauing extreamly beaten him,
and many people gathering about them, to ſuccour a man ſo much
miſuſed, the matter was at large related, and manner of the meſſage
ſending. For which, they all preſent, did greatly reprehend Blondello,
conſidering he knew what kinde of man Phillippo was, not any
way to be ieſted withall. Blondello in teares conſtantly maintained,
that he neuer ſent any ſuch meſſage for wine, or intended it in the
leaſt degree: ſo, when the tempeſt was more mildly calmed, and
Blondello (thus cruelly beaten and durtied) had gotten home to his
owne houſe, he could then remember, that (queſtionles) this vvas
occaſioned by Guiotto.
After ſome few dayes were paſſed ouer, and the hurts in his face
indifferently cured; Blondello beginning to walke abroade againe,
chanced to meet with Guiotto: who laughing heartily at him, ſayde.
Tell me Blondello, how dooſt thou like the enrubinating Clarret of
Signior Phillippo? As well (quoth Blondello) as thou didſt the Sturgeon
and Lampreyes at Meſſer Corſo Donaties. Why rhen (ſayde
Guiotto, let theſe two tokens continue familiar betweene thee and
me, when thou wouldſt beſtow ſuch another dinner on mee, then
wil I enrubinate thy noſe with a bottle of the ſame Claret. But Blondello
perceiued (to his coſt) that hee had met with the worſer bargaine,
and Guiotto got cheare, without any blowes: and therefore
deſired a peacefull attonement, each of them (alwayes after) abſtaining
from flouting one another.
Two yong Gentlemen, the one named Meliſſo, borne in the City of Laiazzo: and the other Gioſefo of Antioche, trauailed together vnto Salomon, the famous King of Great Britaine. The one deſiring to learne what he ſhould do, whereby to compaſſe and winne the loue of men. The other craued to be enſtructed, by what meanes hee might reclaime an headſtrong and vnruly wife. And what anſweres the wiſe King gaue vnto them both, before they departed away from him.
The Ninth Nouell.
Containing an excellent admonition, that ſuch as couet to haue the loue of other men, muſt firſt learne themſelues, how to loue: Alſo, by what meanes ſuch women as are curſt and ſelf-willed, may be reduced to ciuill obedience.
VPon the concluſion of Madame Laurettaes Nouell, none
now remained to ſucceede next in order, but onely the
Queene her ſelfe, the priuiledge reſerued, granted to Dioneus;
wherefore, after they had all ſmiled at the folly of Blondello,
with a chearfull countenance thus the Queene began.
Honourable Ladies, if with aduiſed iudgement, we do duly conſider
the order of all things, we ſhall very eaſily perceyue, That the
whole vniuerſall multiplicitie of Women, by Nature, cuſtome, and
lawes, are & ought to be ſubiect to men, yea, and to be gouernd by
their diſcretion. Becauſe euery one deſiring to enioy peace, repoſe
and comfort with them, vnder whoſe charge they are; ought to be
humble, patient and obedient, ouer and beſide her ſpotleſſe honeſty,
which is the crowne and honour of euery good woman. And although
thoſe lawes, which reſpect the common good of all things,
or rather vſe & cuſtome (as our wonted ſaying is) the powers wherof
are very great, and worthy to be reuerenced, ſhould not make vs
wiſe in this caſe. Yet Nature hath giuen vs a ſufficient demonſtration,
in creating our bodies more ſoft and delicate, yea, and our
hearts timorous, fearefull, benigne and compaſſionable, our ſtrength
feeble, our voyces pleaſing, and the motion of our members ſweetly
plyant; all which are apparant teſtimonies, that wee haue neede
of others gouernment.
Now, it is not to be denyed, that whoſoeuer hath need of helpe,
and is to bee gouerned: meerely reaſon commandeth, that they
ſhould bee ſubiect and obedient to their gouernour. Who then
ſhould we haue for our helps and gouernours, if not men? Wherfore,
we ſhould be intirely ſubiect to them, in giuing them due honour
and reuerence, and ſuch a one as ſhall depart from this rule:
ſhe (in mine opinion) is not onely worthy of grieuous reprehenſion,
but alſo ſeuere chaſtiſement beſide. And to this exact conſideration
(ouer and aboue diuers other important reaſons) I am
the rather induced, by the Nouel which Madame Pampinea ſo lately
reported, concerning the froward and wilfull wife of Talano,
who had a heauier puniſhment inflicted on her, then her Husband
could deuiſe to doe. And therefore it is my peremptory ſentence,
that all ſuch women as will not be gracious, benigne and pleaſing:
doe iuſtly deſerue (as I haue already ſaid) rude, rough and harſh
handling, as both nature, cuſtome and lawes haue commanded.
To make good what I haue ſaid, I wil declare vnto you the counſell
& aduiſe, giuen by Salomon, the wiſe and famous King of Great
Britaine, as a moſt wholeſome and ſoueraigne medicine for the
cure of ſuch a dangerous diſeaſe, in any woman ſo fouly infected.
Which counſel (notwithſtanding) all ſuch women as haue no need
of this Phiſicke, I would not haue them to imagine, that it was
meant for them, albeit men haue a common Prouerbe, to wit.
As the good horſe and bad horſe, doe both need the ſpurre.
So a good wife and bad wife, a wand will make ſtirre.
Which ſaying, whoſoeuer doth interpret ioin ſuch pleaſing manner
as they ought, ſhal find it (as you al wil affirm no leſſe) to be very
true: eſpecially in the morall meaning, it is beyond all contradiction.
Women are naturally all vnſtable, and eaſily enclining to miſgouernment;
wherefore to correct the iniquity of ſuch a diſtemperature
in them that out-ſtep the tearmes and bounds of womanhood,
a wand hath been allowed for eſpeciall phiſicke. As in the
like manner, for ſupport of vertue, in thoſe of contrary condition,
ſhaming to be ſullyed with ſo groſſe a ſinne: the correcting Wand
may ſerue as a walking ſtaffe, to protect them from all other feares.
But, forbearing to teach any longer; let mee proceed to my purpoſe,
and tell you my Nouell.
In thoſe ancient and reuerend dayes, wherof I am now to ſpeake,
the high renowne and admirable wiſedome of Salomon, King of
Great Brittain, was moſt famous throughout all parts of the world;
for anſwering all doubtfull queſtions and demaunds whatſoeuer,
that poſſibly could be propounded to him. So that many reſorted
to him, from the moſt remote and furtheſt off countreyes, to heare
his miraculous knowledge and experience, yea, and to craue his
counſell, in matters of greateſt importance. Among the reſt of them
which repaired thither, was a rich yong Gentleman, honourably
deſcended, named Meliſſo, who came from the City of Laiazzo,
where he was both borne, and dwelt.
In his riding towards France, as he paſſed by Naples, hee ouertooke
another yong Gentleman, a natiue of Antioch, and named
Gioſefo, whoſe iourney lay the ſame way as the others did. Hauing
ridden in company ſome few dayes together, as it is a cuſtome commonly
obſerued among Trauellers, to vnderſtand one anothers
Countrey and condition, as alſo to what part his occaſions call
him: ſo happened it with them, Gioſefo directly telling him, that he
iourneyed towards the wiſe King Salomon, to deſire his aduiſe what
meanes he ſhould obſerue, in the reclaiming of a wilfull wife, the
moſt froward and ſelfe-willed woman that euer liued; whom neither
faire perſwaſions, nor gentle courteſies could in any manner
preuaile withall. Afterward he demaunded of Meliſſo, to know the
occaſion of his trauell, and whither.
Now truſt me Sir, anſwered Meliſſo, I am a natiue of Laiazzo, and
as you are vexed with one great miſ-fortune, euen ſo am I offended
with another. I am young, wealthy, well deriued by birth, and allow
liberall expences, for maintaining a worthy table in my houſe,
without diſtinguiſhing perſons by their rancke and quality, but
make it free for all commers, both of the city, & all places els. Notwithſtanding
all which bounty and houourable entertainement, I
cannot meet with any man that loueth me. In which reſpect, I
iourney to the ſame place as you doe, to craue the counſell of ſo
wiſe a King, what I ſhould doe, whereby I might procure men to
loue me. Thus like two well-met friendly companions, they rode
on together, vntill they arriued in Great Britaine, where, by meanes
of the Noble Barons attending on the King; they were brought before
him. Meliſſo deliuered his minde in very few words, whereto
the King made no other anſwere, but this: Learne to loue. Which
was no ſooner ſpoken, but Meliſſo was diſmiſſed from the Kings
preſence.
Gioſefo alſo relating, wherefore he came thither; the King replyed
onely thus: Goe to the Gooſe Bridge: and preſently Gioſefo had
alſo his diſmiſſion from the King. Comming forth, he found Meliſſo
attending for him, and reuealed in what manner the King had
anſwered him: whereupon, they conſulted together, concerning
both their anſweres, which ſeemed either to exceed their comprehenſion,
or elſe was deliuered them in meere mockery, and therefore
(more then halfe diſcontented) they returned homeward againe.
After they had ridden on a few dayes together, they came to a
Riuer, ouer which was a goodly Bridge, and becauſe a great company
of Horſes and Mules (heauily laden, and after the manner of a
Carauan of Camels in Egypt) were firſt to paſſe ouer the ſaide
Bridge; they gladly ſtayed to permit their paſſe. The greater number
of them being already paſt ouer, there was one ſhie and skittiſh
Mule (belike ſubiect to fearefull ſtarting, as oftentimes we ſee horſes
haue the like ill quality) that would not paſſe ouer the Bridge by
any meanes, wherefore one of the Muletters tooke a good
Cudgell, and ſmote her at the firſt gently, as hoping ſo to procure
her paſſage. Notwithſtanding, ſtarting one while backeward, then
againe forward, ſide-wayes, and euery way indeed, but the direct
Road way ſhe would not goe.
Now grew the Muletter extreamely angry, giuing her many
cruell ſtroakes, on the head, ſides, flancks and all parts elſe, but yet
they proued to no purpoſe, which Meliſſo and Gioſefo ſeeing, and
being (by this meanes) hindred of their paſſage, they called to the
Muletter, ſaying. Fooliſh fellow, what doeſt thou? Intendeſt thou
to kill the Mule? why doſt thou not leade her gently, which is the
likelier courſe to preuaile by, then beating and miſuſing her as thou
doſt? Content your ſelues Gentlemen (anſwered the Muletter) you
know your horſes qualities, as I doe my Mules, let mee deale with
her as I pleaſe. Hauing thus ſpoken, he gaue her ſo many violent
ſtrokes, on head, ſides, hippes, and euery where elſe, as made her at
laſt paſſe ouer the Bridge quietly, ſo that the Muletter wonne the
Maſtery of his Mule.
When Meliſſo and Gioſefo had paſt ouer the Bridge, where they
intended to part each from other; a ſudden motion happened into
the minde of Meliſſo, which cauſed him to demaund of an aged man
(who ſate crauing almes of Paſſengers at the Bridge foot) how the
Bridge was called: Sir, anſwered the old man, this is called, The
Gooſe Bridge. Which words when Gioſefo heard, hee called to
minde the ſaying of King Salomon, and therefore immediately ſaide
to Meliſſo. Worthy friend, and partner in my trauell, I dare now
aſſure you, that the counſell giuen me by King Salomon, may fall
out moſt effectall and true: For I plainely perceiue, that I knew
not how to handle my ſelfe-will'd-wife, vntill the Muletter did inſtruct
me. So, requeſting ſtill to enioy the others Company, they
iourneyed on, till at the length they came to Laiazzo, where Gioſefo
retained Meliſſo ſtill with him, for ſome repoſe after ſo long a iourney,
and entertained him with very honourable reſpect and courteſie.
One day Gioſefo ſaid to his Wife: Woman, this Gentleman is
my intimate friend, and hath borne me company in all my trauell:
ſuch dyet therfore as thou wilt welcome him withall, I would haue
it ordered (in dreſſing) according to his direction. Meliſſo perceiuing
that Gioſefo would needs haue it to be ſo; in few words directed
her ſuch a courſe, as (for euer) might be to her Husbands contentment.
But ſhe, not altring a iote from her former diſpoſition,
but rather farre more froward and tempeſtuous: delighted to vexe
and croſſe him, doing euery thing quite contrary to the order appointed.
Which Gioſefo obſeruing, angerly he ſaid vnto her. Was
it not tolde you by my friend, in what manner he would haue our
Supper dreſt? She turning fiercely to him, replyed. Am I to be directed
by him or thee? Supper muſt and ſhall bee dreſt as I will
haue it: if it pleaſeth mee, I care not who doth diſlike it; if thou
wouldſt haue it otherwiſe, goe ſeeke both your Suppers where you
may haue it.
Meliſſo maruelling at her froward anſwere, rebuked her for it in
very kind manner: whereupon, Gioſefo ſpake thus to her. I perceiue
wife, you are the ſame woman as you were wount to be: but
beleeue me on my word, I ſhal quite alter you from this curſt complexion.
So turning to Meliſſo, thus he proceeded. Noble friend,
we ſhall try anone, whether the counſell of King Salomon bee effectuall,
or no; and I pray you, let it not be offenſſiue to you to ſee it;
but rather hold all to be done in merriment. And becauſe I would
not be hindered by you, doe but remember the anſwere which the
Muletter gaue vs, when we tooke compaſſion on his Mule. Worthy
friend, replyed Meliſſo, I am in your owne houſe, where I purpoſe
not to impeach whatſoeuer you doe.
Gioſefo, hauing prouided a good Holly-wand, went into the
Chamber, where his wife ſate railing, and deſpitefully grumbling,
where taking her by the haire of her head, he threw her at his feete,
beating her entreamely with the wand. She crying, then curſing,
next railing, laſtly fighting, biting and ſcratching, when ſhe felt the
cruell ſmart of the blowes, and that all her reſiſtance ſerued to no
end: then ſhe fell on her knees before him, and deſired mercy for
charities ſake. Gioſefo fought ſtill more and more on head, armes,
ſhoulders, ſides, and all parts elſe, pretending as if he heard not her
complaints, but wearied himſelfe wel neere out of breath: ſo that
(to be briefe) ſhe that neuer felt his fingers before, perceiued and
confeſſed, it was now too ſoone. This being done, hee returned to
Meliſſo, and ſaid: To morrow we ſhall ſee a miracle, and how auaileable
the councell is of going to the Gooſe Bridge. So ſitting a
while together, after they had waſhed their hands, and ſupt, they
withdrew to their lodgings.
The poore beaten woman, could hardly raiſe her ſelfe from the
ground, which yet (with much adoe) ſhe did, and threw her ſelfe
vpon the bed, where ſhe tooke ſuch reſt as ſhe could: but ariſing
early the next morning, ſhe came to her Husband, and making him
a very low courteſie, demaunded what hee pleaſed to haue for his
dinner; he ſmiling heartely thereat, with Meliſſo, tolde her his mind▪
And when dinner time came, euery thing was ready according to
the direction giuen: in which regard, they highly commended the
counſell, whereof they made ſuch an harſh conſtruction at the firſt.
Within a while after, Meliſſo being gone from Gioſefo, and returned
home to his owne houſe: hee acquainted a wiſe and reuerend
man, with the anſwere which king Salomon gaue him, whereto hee
he receiued this reply. No better or truer aduiſe could poſſibly be
giuen you, for well you know, that you loue not any man; but the
bountiful banquets you beſtow on them, is more in reſpect of your
owne vaineglory, then any kind affection you beare to them:
Learne then to loue men, as Salomon aduiſed, and you ſhall be beloued
of them againe. Thus our vnruly Wife became mildely reclaimed,
and the yong Gentleman, by louing others, found the
fruits of reciporall affection.
Iohn de Barolo, at the inſtance and requeſt of his Goſsip Pietro da Treſanti, made an enchantment, to haue his wife become a Mule. And when it came to the faſtening on of the taile; Goſsip Pietro by ſaying ſhe ſhould haue no taile at all, ſpoyled the whole enchantment.
The Tenth Nouell.
In iuſt reproofe of ſuch fooliſh men, as will be gouerned by ouer-light beleefe.
THis Nouell reported by the Queene, cauſed a little murmuring
among the Ladies, albeit the men laughed heartely
thereat: but after they were all growne ſilent, Dioneus
began in this manner. Gracious Beauties, among many white
Doues, one blacke Crow will ſeeme more ſightly, then the very
whiteſt Swanne can doe. In like manner, among a multitude of
wiſe men, ſometimes one of much leſſe wiſedome and diſcretion,
ſhall not onely increaſe the ſplendour and Maieſtie of their maturity,
but alſo giue an addition of delight and ſolace.
In which regard, you all being modeſt and diſcreet Ladies, and
my ſelfe more much defectiue in braine, then otherwiſe able: in
making your vertues ſhine gloriouſly, through the euident apparance
of mine owne weakeneſſe, you ſhould eſteeme the better of
mee, by how much I ſeeme the more cloudy and obſcure. And
conſequently, I ought to haue the larger ſcope of liberty, by plainely
expreſſing what I am, and be the more patiently endured by
you all, in ſaying what abſurdly I ſhall; then I ſhould be if my ſpeeches
ſauoured of abſolute wiſdome. I will therfore tell you a Tale,
which ſhall not be of any great length, whereby you may comprehend,
how carefully ſuch things ſhould be obſerued, which are
commanded by them, as can effect matters by the power of enchantment,
and how little delayance alſo ought to be in ſuch, as
would not haue an enchantment to be hindered.
About a yeare already paſt ſince, there dwelt at Barletta, an honeſt
man, called Iohn de Barolo, who becauſe he was of poore condition;
for maintenance in his contented eſtate, prouided himſelfe of
a Mule, to carry commodities from place to place, where Faires and
Markets were in requeſt, but moſt eſpecially to Apuglia, buying
and ſelling in the nature of a petty Chapman. Trauelling thus thorow
the Countreyes, he grew into great and familiar acquaintance,
with one who named himſelfe Pietro da Treſanti, following the
ſame Trade of life as he did, carrying his commodities vpon an
Aſſe. In ſigne of amitie, according to the Countreyes cuſtome, he
neuer tearmed him otherwiſe, then by the name of Goſſip Pietro
and alwayes when he came to Barletta, he brought him to his own
houſe, taking it as his Inne, entreating him very friendly, and in the
beſt manner he could deuiſe to doe. On the other ſide, Goſſip Pietro
being very poore, hauing but one ſimple habitation in the village
of Treſanti, hardly ſufficient for him, and an handſome young
woman which he had to his wife, as alſo his Aſſe: euermore when
Iohn de Barolo came to Treſanti, he would bring him to his poore
abiding, with all his vttermoſt abilitie of entertainement, in due
acknowledgement of the courteſie he afforded to him at Barletta.
But when he came to take repoſe in the night ſeaſon, Goſſip Pietro
could not lodge him as gladly he would: becauſe he had but one
ſilly bed, wherein himſelfe and his wife lay; ſo that Iohn de Barolo
was faigne to lie on a little ſtraw, in a ſmall ſtable, cloſe adioyning
by his owne Mule and the Aſſe.
The woman vnderſtanding, what good and honeſt welcome,
Goſſip Iohn afforded her husband, when he came to Barletta, was
often very willing to goe lodge with an honeſt neighbour of hers,
called Carapreſa di Giudice Leo, becauſe the two Goſſips might both
lie together in one bed; wherewith diuers times ſhe acquainted her
Husband, but by no meanes he would admit it.
At one time among the reſt, as ſhe was making the ſame motion
againe to her Husband, that his friend might be lodged in better
manner: Goſſip Iohn thus ſpake to her. Good Zita Carapreſa,
neuer moleſt your ſelfe for me, becauſe I lodge to mine owne contentment,
and ſo much the rather, in regard that whenſoeuer I liſt:
I can conuert my Mule into a faire young woman, to giue mee
much delight in the night-ſeaſon, and afterward make her a Mule
againe: thus am I neuer without her company.
The young woman wondring at theſe words, and beleeuing he
did not fable in them: ſhe told them to her Husband, with this addition
beſide, Pietro (quoth ſhe) if he be ſuch a deare friend to thee,
as thou haſt often auouched to me; wiſh him to inſtruct thee in ſo
rare a cunning, that thou maiſt make a Mule of me; then ſhalt thou
haue both an Aſſe and a Mule to trauell withall about thy buſineſſe,
whereby thy benefit will be double: and when we returne home to
our houſe, then thou maiſt make mee thy wife againe, in the ſame
condition as I was before. Goſſip Pietro, who was (indeed) but
a very Coxecombe; beleeued alſo the words to be true, yeelding
therefore the more gladly to her aduiſe; and mouing the matter to
his Goſſip Iohn, to teach him ſuch a wonderfull ſecret, which would
redound ſo greatly to his benefit: but Iohn began to diſſwade him
from it, as hauing ſpoken it in merriment, yet perceiuing, that no
contradiction would ſerue to preuaile, thus he began.
Seeing you will needs haue it ſo, let vs riſe to morrow morning
before day, as in our trauell we vſe to doe, and then I will ſhew you
how it is to be done: onely I muſt and doe confeſſe, that the moſt
difficult thing of all the reſt, is, to faſten on the taile, as thou ſhalt
ſee.
Goſſip Pietro and his wife, could hardly take any reſt all the
night long, ſo deſirous they were to haue the deed done; and therefore
when it drew towards day, vp they aroſe, and calling Goſſip
Iohn, he came preſently to them in his ſhirt, & being in the Chamber
with them, he ſaid. I know not any man in the world, to whom
I would diſcloſe this ſecret, but to you, and therefore becauſe you
ſo earneſtly deſire it, I am the more willing to doe it. Onely you
muſt conſent, to doe whatſoeuer I ſay, if you are deſirous to haue it
done. Faithfully they promiſed to performe all, whereupon Iohn
deliuering a lighted Candle to Goſſip Pietro, to hold in his hand,
ſaid. Marke well what I doe, and remember all the words I ſay: but
be very carefull, that whatſoeuer thou heareſt or ſeeſt, thou doe
not ſpeake one word, for then the enchantment will be vtterly ouerthrowne,
onely wiſh that the taile may be well ſet on, for therein
conſiſteth all the cunning.
Goſſip Pietro holding the Candle, and the woman being prepared
as Iohn had appointed her, ſhe bowed her ſelfe forwardes with
her hands ſet to the ground, euen as if ſhe ſtood vpon foure feere.
Firſt with his hands he touched her head and face, ſaying, Heere is
the goodly head of a Mule: then handling her diſheueld haire, termed
them the goodly mane of a Mule. Afterwardes, touching the
body, armes, legs, and feete, gaue them all the apt names (for thoſe
parts) belonging to a Mule, nothing elſe remaining, but onely the
forming of the taile, which when Pietro perceiued, how Iohn was
preparing to faſten it on (hauing no way miſliked all his former
proceeding:) he called to him, ſaying: Forbeare Goſſippe Iohn, my
Mule ſhal haue no taile at all, I am contented to haue her without a
taile. How now Goſſip Pietro? anſwered Iohn, What haſt thou
done? Thou haſt mard all by this vnaduiſed ſpeaking, euen when
the worke was almoſt fully finiſhed. It is no matter Goſſip (anſwered
Pietro) I can like my Mule better without a taile, then to ſee it
ſet on in ſuch manner.
The fond yong woman, more couetouſly addicted to gayne and
commodity, then looking into the knauiſh intention of her Goſſip
Iohn; began to grow greatly offended. Beaſt as thou art (quoth ſhe
to her Husband) why haſt thou ouerthrowne both thine own good
Fortune and mine? Diddeſt thou euer ſee a Mule without a taile?
Wouldſt thou haue had him made me a monſter? Thou art wretchedly
poore, and when we might haue bin enriched for euer, by a
ſecret knowne to none but our ſelues, thou art the Aſſe that haſt defeated
all, and made thy friend to become thine enemy. Goſſippe
Iohn began to pacifie the woman, with ſolemne proteſtations of his
ſtill continuing friendſhip, albeit (afterwards) there was no further
deſiring of any more Mule-making: but Goſſip Pietro fel to his former
Trading onely with his Aſſe, as he was no leſſe himſelfe, and
hee went no more with Goſſip Iohn to the Faires in Apuglia, neyther
did he euer requeſt, to haue the like peece of ſeruice done for
him.
ALthough there was much laughing at this Nouell, the Ladies
vnderſtanding it better, then Dioneus intended that
they ſhould haue done, yet himſelfe ſcarſely ſmiled. But
the Nouels being all ended, and the Sunne beginning to looſe his
heate; the Queene alſo knowing, that the full period of her gouernment
was come: diſpoſſeſſing herſelfe of the Crowne, ſhee placed
it on the head of Pamphilus, who was the laſt of all to be honoured
with this dignity; wherefore (with a gracious ſmile) thus ſhe ſpake
to him.
Sir, it is no meane charge which you are to vndergo, in making
amends (perhaps) for all the faults committed by my ſelfe and the
reſt, who haue gone before you in the ſame authority; and, may it
proue as proſperous vnto you, as I was willing to create you our
King. Pamphilus hauing receiued the Honor with a chearfull mind,
thus anſwered. Madam, your ſacred vertues, and thoſe (beſide) remaining
in my other Subiects, will (no doubt) worke ſo effectually
for me, that (as the reſt haue done) I ſhall deſerue your generall
good opinion. And hauing giuen order to the Maſter of the Houſhold
(as all his predeceſſors had formerly done, for euery neceſſary
occaſion; he turned to the Ladies, who expected his gracious fauour,
and ſaid.
Bright Beauties, it was the diſcretion of your late Soueraigne &
Queene, in regard of eaſe and recreation vnto your tyred ſpirits, to
grant you free liberty, for diſcourſing on whatſoeuer your ſelues
beſt pleaſed: wherefore, hauing enioyed ſuch a time of reſt, I am of
opinion, that it is beſt to returne once more to our wonted Law, in
which reſpect, I would haue euery one to ſpeake in this manner to
morrow. Namely, of thoſe men or women, who haue done any
thing bountifully or magnificently, either in matter of amity, or otherwiſe.
The relation of ſuch worthy arguments, will (doubtleſſe)
giue an addition to our very beſt deſires, for a free and forward inclination
to good actions, whereby our liues (how ſhort ſoeuer they
bee) may perpetuate an euer-liuing renowne and fame, after our
mortall bodies are conuerted into duſt, which (otherwiſe) are no
better then thoſe of bruite beaſts, reaſon onely diſtinguiſhing this
difference, that as they liue to periſh vtterly, ſo we reſpire to reigne
in eternity.
The Theame was exceedingly pleaſing to the whole Company;
who being all riſen, by permiſſion of the new King, euery one fel to
their wonted recreations, as beſt agreed with their owne diſpoſition;
vntill the houre for Supper came, wherein they were ſerued
very ſumptuouſly. But being riſen from the Table, they began their
dances, among which, many ſweet Sonnets were enterlaced, with
ſuch delicate Tunes as moued admiration. Then the King commanded
Madam Neiphila, to ſing a ſong in his name, or how her ſelfe
ſtood beſt affected. And immediatly with a cleare and rare voice,
thus ſhe began.
THE SONG.
The Chorus ſung by all the Companie.
IN the Spring ſeaſon,
Maides haue beſt reaſon,
To dance and ſing;
With Chaplets of Flowers,
To decke vp their Bowers,
And all in honour of the Spring.
I Heard a Nimph that ſate alone,
By a Fountaines ſide:
Much her hard Fortune to bemone,
For ſtill ſhe cride:
Ah! Who will pitty her diſtreſſe,
That findes no foe like fickleneſſe?
For truth liues not in men:
Poore ſoule, why liue I then?
In the Spring ſeaſon, &c.
Oh, How can mighty Loue permit,
Such a faithleſſe deed,
And not in iuſtice puniſh it
As treaſons meed?
I am vndone through periury,
Although I loued conſtantly:
But truth liues not in men,
Poore ſoule, why liue I then?
In the Spring ſeaſon, &c.
When I did follow Dyans traine,
As a loyall Maide,
I neuer felt oppreſsing paine,
Nor was diſmaide.
But when I liſtened Loues alluring,
Then I wandred from aſſuring.
For truth liues not in men:
Poore ſoule, why liue I then?
In the Spring ſeaſon, &c.
Adiew to all my former ioyes,
When I liued at caſe,
And welcome now thoſe ſad annoies
Which do moſt diſpleaſe.
And let none pitty her diſtreſſe,
That fell not, but by fickleneſſe.
For truth liues not in men,
Alas! why liue I then?
IN the Spring ſeaſon,
Maides haue beſt reaſon,
To dance and ſing;
With Chaplets of Flowers,
To decke vp their Bowers,
And all in honour of the Spring.
This Song, moſt ſweetly ſung by Madame Neiphila, was eſpecially
commended, both by the King, & all the reſt of the Ladies. Which
being fully finiſhed, the King gaue order, that euerie one ſhould repaire
to their Chambers, becauſe a great part of the night was already
ſpent.
The end of the Ninth Day.
THE Tenth and laſt Day.
Whereon, vnder the Gouernment of Pamphilus, the ſeuerall Arguments do concerne ſuch perſons, as either by way of Liberality, or in Magnificent manner, performed any worthy action, for loue, fauour, friendſhip, or any other honourable occaſion.
The Induction.
ALready began certaine ſmall
Clouds in the Weſt, to bluſh
with a Vermillion tincture,
when thoſe in the Eaſt (hauing
reached to their full heighth)
looked like bright burniſhed
Gold, by ſplendour of the Sun
beames drawing neere vnto
them: when Pamphilus being riſen, cauſed the Ladies,
and the reſt of his honourable companions to be called.
When they were all aſſembled, and had concluded
together on the place, whither they ſhould walke
for their mornings recreation: the King ledde on the
way before, accompanied with the two Noble Ladies
Philomena and Fiammetta, all the reſt following after
them, deuiſing, talking, and anſwering to diuers demands
both what that day was to be don, as alſo concerning
the propoſed impoſition.
After they had walked an indifferent ſpace of time,
and found the rayes of the Sunne to be ouer-piercing
for them: they returned backe againe to the Pallace,
as fearing to haue their blood immoderately heated.
Then rinſing their Glaſſes in the coole cleare running
current, each tooke their mornings draught, &
then walked into the milde ſhades about the Garden,
vntill they ſhould bee ſummoned to dinner. Which
was no ſooner ouer-paſt, and ſuch as ſlept, returned
waking: they mette together againe in their wonted
place, according as the King had appointed, where
he gaue command vnto Madame Neiphila, that ſhee
ſhould (for that day) begin the firſt Nouell, which ſhe
humbly accepting, thus began.
A Florentine knight, named Signior Rogiero de Figiouanni, became a ſeruant to Alphonſo, King of Spaine, who (in his owne opinion) ſeemed but ſleightly to reſpect and reward him. In regard whereof, by a notable experiment, the King gaue him a manifeſt teſtimony, that it was not through any defect in him, but onely occaſioned by the Knights ill fortune; moſt bountifully recompencing him afterward.
The Firſt Nouell.
Wherin may euidently be diſcerned, that Seruants to Princes and great Lords, are many times recompenced, rather by their good fortune, then in vny regard of their dutifull ſeruices.
I Doe accept it (Worthy Ladies) as no mean
fauour, that the King hath giuen me the firſt
place, to ſpeake of ſuch an honourable Argument,
as Bounty and Magnificence is,
which precious Iewell, euen as the Sunne
is the beauty, or ornament and bright glory
of al heauen; ſo is bounty and magnificence
the Crowne of all vertues. I ſhall then recount
to you a ſhort Nouell, ſufficiently pleaſing, in mine owne opinion,
and I hope (ſo much I dare rely on your iudgements) both
profitable, and worthy to be remembred.
You are to know then, that among other valiant Knights, which
of long haue liued in our City, one of them, and (perhappes) of as
great merit as any, was one, named Signior Rogiero d'Figiouanni.
He being rich, of great courage, and perceiuing, that (in due conſideration)
the quality belonging to life, and the cuſtomes obſerued
among our Tuſcanes, were not anſwerable to his expectation, nor
agreed with the diſpoſition of his valour; determined to leaue his
natiue Countrey, and belong in ſeruice (for ſome time) to Alfonſo,
King of Spaine, whoſe fame was generally noiſed in all places, for
excelling all other Princes in thoſe times, for reſpect of mens well
deſeruings, and bountifull requitall of their paines. Being prouided
in honorable order, both of Horſes, Armes, & a competent train, he
trauelled to Spaine, where he was worthily entertained.
Signior Rogiero continuing there, liuing in honorable maner, and
performing many admirable actions of arms; in ſhort time he made
himſelfe ſufficiently knowne, for a very valiant and famous man.
And hauing remained there an indifferent long while, obſeruing diuers
behauiours in the king: he ſaw, how he enclined himſelfe firſt to
one man, then to another, beſtowing on one a Caſtle, a Towne on
another, and Baronnies on diuers, ſom-what indiſcreetly, as giuing
away bountifully to men of no merit. And reſtraining all his fauors
from him, as ſeeming cloſe fiſted, and parting with nothing: he took
it as a diminiſhing of his former reputation, and a great
•
mpayring
of his fame, wherefore he reſolued on his departure thence, & made
his ſuit to the king that he might obtaine it. The king did grant it, beſtowing
on him one of the very beſt Mules, and the goodlieſt that
euer was backt, a gift moſt highly pleaſing to Rogiero, in regarde of
the long iourny he intended to ride. Which being deliuerd, the king
gaue charge to one of his Gentlemen, to compaſſe ſuch conuenient
meanes, as to ride thorow the country, and in the company of Signior
Rogiero, yet in ſuch manner, as he ſhould not perceiue, that the
King had purpoſely ſent him ſo to do. Reſpectiuely he ſhould obſerue
whatſoeuer he ſaid concerning the king, his geſture, ſmiles, and
other behauior, ſhaping his anſwers accordingly, and on the nexte
morning, to commaud his returne backe with him to the King.
Nor was the Gentleman ſlacke in this command, but noting Rogieroes
departing forth of the city, he mounted on horſeback likewiſe,
aud immediatly after came into his company, making him beleeue,
that he iournied towards Italy. Rogiero rode on the Mule which the
king had giuen him, with diuerſity of ſpeeches paſſing between thē.
About three of the clocke in the afternoone, the Gentleman ſaid. It
were not amiſſe Sir, (hauing ſuch fit opportunitie) to Stable our
horſes for a while, till the heate be a little more ouerpaſt. So taking
an Inne, and the horſes being in the ſtable, they all ſtaled except
the Mule.
Being mounted againe; and riding on further, the Gentleman
duely obſerued whatſoeuer Rogiero ſpake, and comming to the paſſage
of a ſmall Riuer or Blooke: the reſt of the beaſts dranke, and
not the Mule, but ſtaled in the Riuer: which Signior Rogiero ſeeing,
clapping his hands on the Mules mane, hee ſaid. What a wicked
beaſt art thou? thou art iuſt like thy Maſter that gaue thee to mee.
The Gentleman committed the words to memory, as he did many
other paſſing from Rogiero, riding along the reſt of the day, yet none
in diſparagement of the King, but rather highly in his commendation.
And being the next morning mounted on horſeback, ſeeming
to hold on ſtill the way for Tuſcane: the Gentleman fulfilled the
Kings command, cauſing Signior Rogiero to turne back againe with
him, which willingly he yeelded to doe.
When they were come to the Court, and the King made acquainted
with the words, which Rogiero ſpake to his Mule; he was
called into the preſence, where the King ſhewed him a gracious
countenance, & demanded of him, why he had compared him to his
Mule? Signior Rogiero nothing daunted, but with a bold and conſtant
ſpirit, thus anſwered. Sir, I mad
•
the compariſon, becauſe, like
as you giue, where there is no conueniency, and beſtow nothing
where reaſon requireth: euen ſo, the Mule would not ſtale where
ſhe ſhould haue done, but where was water too much before, there
ſhe did it. Beleeue me Signior Rogiero, replyed the King, if I haue
not giuen you ſuch gifts, as (perhaps) I haue done to diuers other,
farre inferiour to you in honour and merit; this happened not thorough
any ignorance in me, as not knowing you to be a moſt valiant
Knight, and well-worthy of ſpeciall reſpect: but rather through
your owne ill fortune, which would not ſuffer me to doe it, whereof
ſhe is guilty, and not I, as the truth thereof ſhall make it ſelfe apparant
to you. Sir, anſwered Rogiero, I complaine not, becauſe I
haue receiued no gift from you, as deſiring thereby couetouſly to
become the richer: but in regard you haue not as yet any way acknowledged,
what vertue is remaining in me. Neuertheleſſe, I allow
your excuſe for good and reaſonable, and am heartely contented,
to behold whatſoeuer you pleaſe; although I doe confidently
credit you, without any other teſtimony.
The King conducted him then into the great Hall, where (as hee
had before giuen order) ſtood two great Cheſts, faſt lockt; & in the
preſence of all his Lords, the King thus ſpake. Signior Rogiero, in
out of theſe Cheſts is mine imperiall Crowne, the Scepter Royall,
the Mound, & many more of my richeſt girdles, rings, plate, & Iewels,
euen the very beſt that are mine: the other is full of earth onely.
Chuſe one of theſe two, and which thou makeſt election of; vpon
my Royall word thou ſhalt enioy it. Hereby ſhalt thou euidently
perceiue, who hath bin ingreatful to the deſeruings, either I, or thine
owne bad fortune. Rogiero ſeeing it was the kings pleaſure to haue
it ſo; choſe one of them, which the King cauſed preſently to be opened,
it approuing to be the ſame that was full of earth, whereat
the King ſmyling, ſaid thus vnto him.
You ſee Signior Rogiero, that what I ſaid concerning your ill fortune,
is very true: but queſtionleſſe, your valour is of ſuch deſert,
as I ought to oppoſe my ſelfe againſt all her maleuolence. And becauſe
I know right, that you are not minded to become a Spaniard;
I will giue you neither Caſtle nor dwelling place: but I will beſtow
the Cheſt on you (in meer deſpight of your malicious fortune)
which ſhe ſo vniuſtly tooke away from you. Carry it home with
you into your Countrey, that there it may make an apparant teſtimoney,
in the ſight of all your well-willers, both of your owne vertuous
deſeruings, and my bounty. Signior Rogiero humbly receiuing
the Cheſt, and thanking his Maieſtie for ſo liberall a gift, returned
home ioyfully therewith, into his natiue Countrey of Tuſcane.
Ghinotto di Tacco; tooke the Lord Abbot of Clugni as his priſonors, and cured him of a grieuous diſeaſe, which he had in his ſtomacke, and afterward ſet him at liberty. The ſame Lord Abbot, when hee returned from the Court of Rome, reconciled Ghinotto to Pope Boniface; who made him a Knight, and Lord Prior of a goodly Hoſpitall.
The ſecond Nouell.
Wherein is declared that good men doe ſometimes fall into bad conditions, onely occaſioned thereto by neceſsity: And what meanes are to be vſed, for their reducing to goodneſſe againe.
THe magnificence and Royall bounty, which King Alphonſo
beſtowed on the Florentine knight, paſſed through the
whole aſſembly with no mean applauſe, & the King (who
gaue it the greateſt praiſe of al) commanded Madame Eliza, to take
the ſecond turne in order; whereupon, thus ſhe began.
Faire Ladies, if a king ſhewed himſelfe magnificently minded,
and expreſſed his liberall bounty to ſuch a man, as had done him
good and honourable ſeruices: it can be termed no more then a
vertuous deed well done, and becomming a King But what will we
ſay, when we heare that a Prelate of the Church, ſhewed himſelfe
wondrouſly magnificent, and to ſuch a one as was his enemy: can
any malicious tongue ſpeake ill of him? Vndoubtedly, no other
anſwere is to be made, but the action of the King was meerely vertue,
and that of the Prelate, no leſſe then a miracle: for how can it
be otherwiſe, when they are more greedily couetous then women,
and deadly enemies to all liberality? And although euery man
(naturally) deſireth reuenge for iniuries and abuſes done vnto
him: yet men of the Church, in regard that dayly they preached
patience, and commaund (aboue all things elſe) remiſſion of
ſinnes: it would appeare a mighty blemiſh in them, to be more froward
and furious then other men. But I am to ſpeake of a reuerend
Prelate of the Church, as alſo concerning his munificent
bounty, to one that was his enemy, and yet became his reconciled
friend, as you ſhall perceiue by my Nouell.
Ghinotto di Tacco, for his inſolent and ſtout robberies, became a
man very farre famed, who being baniſhed from Sienna, and an enemy
to the Countes Diſanta Fiore: preuailed ſo by his bold and
headſtrong perſwaſions, that the Towne of Raticonfani rebelled againſt
the Church of Rome, wherein he remaining; all paſſengers
whatſoeuer, trauelling any way thereabout, were robde and rifled
by his theeuing Companions. At the time whereof now I ſpeake,
Boniface the eight, gouerned as Pope at Rome, and the Lord Abbot
of Clugni (accounted to be one of the richeſt Prelates in the world)
came to Rome, and there either by ſome ſurfeit, exceſſe of feeding,
or otherwiſe, his ſtomacke being grieuouſly offended and pained;
the Phiſitians aduiſed him, to trauell to the Bathes at Sienna, where
he ſhould receiue immediate cure. In which reſpect, his departure
being licenced by the Pope, to ſet onward thither, with great
and pompous Cariages, of Horſes, Mules, and a goodly traine, without
hearing any rumour of the theeuiſh Conſorts.
Ghinotto di Tacco, being aduertiſed of his comming, ſpred about
his ſcouts and nettes, and without miſſing ſo much as one Page, ſhut
vp the Abbot, with all his traine and baggage, in a place of narrow
reſtraint, out of which he could by no meanes eſcape. When this
was done, he ſent one of his moſt ſufficient attendants, (well accompanyed)
to the Lord Abbot, who ſaid to him in his Maſters
name, that if his Lordſhip were ſo pleaſed, hee might come and viſite
Ghinotto at his Caſtle. Which the Abbot hearing, anſwered
chollerickly, that he would not come thither, becauſe hee had nothing
to ſay to Ghinotto: but meant to proceed on in his iourny, and
would faine ſee, who durſt preſume to hinder his paſſe. To which
rough words, the meſſenger thus mildely anſwered. My Lord
(quoth he) you are arriued in ſuch a place, where we feare no other
force, but the all-controlling power of heauen, clearely exempted
from the Popes thunder cracks, of maledictions, interdictions, excommunications,
or whatſoeuer elſe: and therefore it would bee
much better for you, if you pleaſed to do as Ghinotto aduiſeth you.
During the time of this their interparlunce, the place was ſuddenly
round ingirt with ſtrongly armed theeues, and the Lord Abbot
perceiuing, that both he and all his followers were ſurprized: tooke
his way (though very impatiently) towards the Caſtle, and likewiſe
all his company and carriages with him. Being diſmounted, hee
was conducted (as Ghinotto had appointed) all alone, into a ſmall
Chamber of the Caſtle, it being very darke and vneaſie: but the
reſt of his traine, euery one according to his ranck and quality, were
all well lodged in the Caſtle, their horſes, goods and all things elſe,
deliuered into ſecure keeping, without the leaſt touch of iniury or
preiudice. All which being orderly done, Ghinotto himſelfe went
to the Lord Abbot, and ſaid. My Lord, Ghinotto, to whom you
are a welcome gueſt, requeſteth, that it might be your pleaſure to
tell him, whither you are trauelling, and vpon what occaſion?
The Lord Abbot being a very wiſe man, and his angry diſtemper
more moderately qualified; reuealed whither he went, and the
cauſe of his going thither. Which when Ghinotto had heard, hee
departed courteouſly from him, and began to conſider with himſelfe,
how he might cure the Abbot; yet without any Bathe. So,
commanding a good fire to be kept continually in his ſmall Chamber,
and very good attendance on him: the next morning, he came
to viſite him againe, bringing a faire white Napkin on his arme, and
in it two ſlices or toaſts of fine Manchet, a goodly cleare Glaſſe, full
of the pureſt white-Baſtard of Corniglia (but indeed, of the Abbots
owne prouiſion brought thither with him) and then hee ſpoke to
him in this manner.
My Lord, when Ghinotto was yonger then now he is, he ſtudyed
Phyſicke, and he commanded me to tell you, that the very beſt medicine,
he could euer learne, againſt any diſeaſe in the ſtomacke, was
this which he had prouided for your Lordſhip, as an eſpecial preparatiue,
and which he ſhould finde to be very comfortable. The Abbot,
who had a better ſtomacke to eate, then any will or deſire to
talke: although hee did it ſomewhat diſdainfully, yet hee eate vp
both the toaſtes, and roundly dranke off the Glaſſe of Baſtard.
Afterward, diuers other ſpeeches paſſed betweene them, the one
ſtill aduiſing in Phiſicall manner, and the other ſeeming to care little
for it: but moued many queſtions concerning Ghinotto, and earneſtly
requeſting to ſee him. Such ſpeeches as ſauoured of the Abbots
diſcontentment, and came from him in paſſion; were clouded
with courteous acceptance, & not the leaſt ſigne of any miſlike: but
ring his Lordſhip, that Ghinotto intended very ſhortly to ſee him,
and ſo they parted for that time.
Nor returned he any more, till the next morning with the like
two toaſtes of bread, and ſuch another Glaſſe of white Baſtard, as
he had brought him at the firſt, continuing the ſame courſe for diuers
dayes after: till the Abbot had eaten (and very hungerly too)
a pretty ſtore of dryed Beanes, which Ghinotto purpoſely, (yet ſecretly)
had hidden in the Chamber. Wherevpon he demaunded
of him (as ſeeming to be ſo enioyned by his pretended maſter) in
what temper he found his ſtomacke now? I ſhould finde my ſtomacke
well enough (anſwered the Lord Abbot) if I could get forth
of thy maſters fingers, and then haue ſome good food to feed on:
for his medicines haue made me ſo ſoundly ſtomackt, that I am ready
to ſtarue with hunger.
When Ghinotto was gone from him, hee then prepared a very
faire Chamber for him, adorning it with the Abbots owne rich
hangings, as alſo his Plate and other moueables, ſuch as were alwayes
vſed for his ſeruice. A coſtly dinner he prouided likewiſe,
whereto he inuited diuers of the Towne, and many of the Abbots
chiefeſt followers: then going to him againe the next morning, he
ſaid. My Lord, ſeeing you doe feele your ſtomacke ſo well, it is
time you ſhould come forth of the Infirmary. And taking him by
the hand, he brought him into the prepared Chamber, where he left
him with his owne people, and went to giue order for the dinners
ſeruing in, that it might be performed in magnificent manner.
The Lord Abbot recreated himſelfe a while with his owne
people, to whom he recounted, the courſe of his life ſince hee ſaw
them; and they likewiſe told him, how kindly they had bin initeated
by Ghinotto. But when dinner time was come, the Lord Abbot
and all his company, were ſerued with coſtly viands and excellent
Wines, without Ghinottoes making himſelfe knowne to the Abbot:
till after he had beene entertained ſome few dayes in this order:
into the great Hall of the Caſtle, Ghinotto cauſed all the Abbots
goods and furniture to bee brought, and likewiſe into a ſpacious
Court, wheron the windowes of the ſaid Court gazed, all his mules
and horſes, with their ſumpters, euen to the very ſillieſt of them,
which being done, Ghinotto went to the Abbot, and demaunded of
him, how he felt his ſtomacke now, and whether it would ſerue him
to venter on horſe backe as yet, or no? The Lord Abbot anſwered,
that he found his ſtomacke perfectly recouered, his body ſtrong enough
to endure trauell, and all things well, ſo hee were deliuered
from Ghinotto.
Hereupon, he brought him into the hall where his furniture was,
as alſo all his people, & commanding a window to be opned, wherat
at he might behold his horſes, he ſaid. My Lord; let me plainely
giue you to vnderſtand, that neither cowardiſe, or baſeneſſe of
minde, induced Ghinotto di Tacco (which is my ſelfe) to become a
lurking robber on the high-wayes, an enemy to the Pope, and ſo
(conſequently) to the Romane Court: but onely to ſaue his owne
life and honour, knowing himſelfe to be a Gentleman caſt out of
his owne houſe, and hauing (beſide) infinite enemies. But becauſe
you ſeeme to be a worthy Lord, I will not (although I haue cured
your ſtomacks diſeaſe) deale with you as I doe to others, whoſe
goods (when they fall into my power) I take ſuch part of as I pleaſe:
bet rather am well contented, that my neceſſities being conſidered
by your ſelfe, you ſpare me out a proportion of the things you haue
heere, anſwerable to your owne liking. For all are preſent here before
you, both in this Hall, and in the Court beneath, free from any
ſpoyle, or the leaſt impairing. Wherefore, giue a part, or take
all, if you pleaſe, and then depart hence when you will, or abide
heere ſtill, for now you are at your owne free liberty.
The Lord Abbot wondred not a little, that a robber on the high
wayes, ſhould haue ſuch a bold and liberall ſpirit, which appeared
very pleaſing to him; and inſtantly, his former hatred and ſpleene againſt
Ghinotto, became conuerted into cordiall loue and kindnes,
ſo that (imbracing him in his armes) he ſaid I proteſt vpon my vow
made to Religion, that to win the loue of ſuch a man, as I plainely
perceiue thee to be: I would vndergo far greater iniuries, then thoſe
which I haue receiued at thy hands. Accurſed be cruell deſtiny, that
forced thee to ſo baſe a kind of life, and did not bleſſe thee with
a fairer fortune. After he had thus ſpoken, he left there the greater
part of all his goods, and returned backe againe to Rome, with few
horſes, and a meaner traine.
Durig theſe paſſed accidents, the Pope had receiued intelligence
of the Lord Abbots ſurprizall, which was not a little diſpleaſing to
him: but when he ſaw him returned, he demaunded, what benefit
he receiued at the Bathes? Whereto the Abbot, merrily ſmyling,
thus replyed. Holy Father, I met with a moſt skilfull Phyſitian neerer
hand, whoſe experience is beyond the power of the Bathes, for
by him I am very perfectly cured: and ſo diſcourſed all at large.
The Pope laughing heartely, and the Abbot continuing on ſtill his
report; moued with an high and magnificent courage, he demaunded
one gracious fauour of the Pope: who imagining that he would
requeſt a matter of greater moment, then he did, freely offered to
grant, whatſoeuer he deſired.
Holy Father, anſwered the Lord Abbot, all the humble ſuit which
I make to you, is, that you would be pleaſed to receiue into your
grace and fauor, Ghinotto di Tacco my Phyſitian, becauſe among all
the vertuous men, deſeruing to haue eſpecial account made of them
I neuer met wi-h any equall to him both in honour and honeſty.
Whatſoeuer iniury he did to me, I impute it as a greater in-fortune,
then any way he deſerueth to be charged withall. Which wretched
condition of his, if you were pleaſed to alter, and beſtow on
him ſome better meanes of maintenance, to liue like a worthy man,
as he is no leſſe: I make no doubt, but (in very ſhort time) hee will
appeare as pleaſing to your holineſſe, as (in my beſt iudgement) I
thinke him to be.
The Pope, who was of a magnanimious ſpirit, and one that highly
affected men of vertue, hearing the commendable motion made
by the Abbot; returned anſwere, that he was as willing to grant it,
as the other deſired it, ſending. Letters of ſafe conduct for his comming
thither. Ghinotto receiuing ſuch aſſurance from the Court
of Rome, came thither immediatly, to the great ioy of the Lord
Abbot: and the Pope finding him to be a man of valor and worth,
vpon reconciliation, remitted all former errors, creating him knight,
and Lord Prior of the very chiefeſt Hoſpitall in Rome. In which
Office he liued long time after, as a loyall ſeruant to the Church,
and an honeſt thankefull friend to the Lord Abbot of Clugny.
Mithridanes enuying the life and liberality of Nathan, and trauelling thither, with a ſetled reſolution to kill him: chaunceth to conferre with Nathan vnknowne. And being inſtructed by him, in vvhat manner he might beſt performe the bloody deede, according as hee gaue direction, hee meeteth with him in a ſmall Thicket or Woode, where knowing him to be the ſame man, that taught him how to take away his life: Confounded with ſhame, hee acknowledgeth his horrible intention, and becommeth his loyall friend.
The third Nouell.
Shewing in an excellent and liuely demonſtration, that any eſpeciall honourable vertue, perſeuering and dwelling in a truly noble ſoule, cannot be violenced or confounded, by the moſt politicke attemptes of malice and enuy.
IT appeared to the whole aſſembly, that they had heard a
matter of meruaile, for a Lord Abbot to performe any
magnificent action: but their admiration ceaſing in ſilence,
the King commanded Philoſtratus to follow next, who forthwith
thus began.
Honourable Ladies, the bounty and magnificenſe of Alphonſo
King of Spaine, was great indeede, and that done by the Lord Abbot
of Clugny, a thing (perhaps) neuer heard of in any other. But
it will ſeeme no leſſe meruailous to you, when you heare, how one
man, in expreſſion of great liberality to another man, that earneſtly
deſired to kill him; ſhould bee ſecretly diſpoſed to giue him his
life, which had bin loſt, if the other would haue taken it, as I purpoſe
to acquaint you withall, in a ſhort Nouell.
Moſt certaine it is, at leaſt, if Faith may bee giuen to the report of
certaine Genewayes, and other men reſorting to thoſe remote parts,
that in the Country of Cathaya, there liued ſomtime a Gentleman,
rich beyond compariſon, and named Nathan. He hauing his liuing
adioyning to a great common rode-way, whereby men trauayled
from the Eaſt to the Weſt (as they did the like from the Weſt vnto
the Eaſt, as hauing no other means of paſſage) and being of a bountifull
and chearfull diſpoſition, which he was willing to make knowen
by experience: he ſummoned together many Maſter Maſons
and Carpenters, and there erected (in a ſhort time) one of the greateſt,
goodlieſt, and moſt beautifull houſes (in manner of a Princes
Pallace) that euer was ſeene in all thoſe quarters.
With mouables and all kinde of furniſhment, befitting a houſe
of ſuch outward apparance, hee cauſed it to be plentifully ſtored,
onely to receiue, entertaine, and honor all Gentlemen or other Trauailers
whatſoener, as had occaſion to paſſe that way, being not vnprouided
alſo of ſuch a number of ſeruants, as might continuallie
giue attendance on all commers and goers. Two and fifty ſeuerall
gates, ſtanding alway wide open, & ouer each of them in great golden
carracters was written, Welcome, welcome, and gaue free admiſſion
to all commers whatſoeuer.
In this honourable order (obſerued as his eſtated cuſtom) he perſeuered
ſo long a while, as not onely the Eaſt parts, but alſo thoſe
in the weſt, were euery where acquainted with his fame & renown.
Being already well ſtept into yeares, but yet not wearie (therefore)
of his great charge and liberality: it fortuned, that the rumor of his
noble Hoſpitality, came to the eare of another gallant Gentleman,
named Mithridanes, liuing in a Countrey not farre off from the other.
This Gentleman, knowing himſelf no leſſe wealthy then Nathan,
and enuiouſly repining at his vertue and liberality, determined in
his mind, to dim and obſcure the others bright ſplendor, by making
himſelfe farre more famous. And hauing built a Palace anſwerable
to that of Nathans, with like windings of gates, and welcom inſcriptions;
he beganne to extend immeaſurable courteſies, vnto all ſuch
as were diſpoted to viſite him: ſo that (in a ſhort while) hee grew
very famous in infinite places. It chanced on a day, as Mithridanes
ſate all alone within the goodly Court of his Pallace: a poore
woman entred at one of the gates, crauing an almes of him, which
ſhe had; and returned in againe at a ſecond gate, comming alſo to
him, and had a ſecond almes, continuing ſoſtill a dozen times; but
at the thirteenth returning, Mithridanes ſaide to her: Good Woman,
you goe and come very often, and ſtill you are ſerued vvith
almes. When the old Woman heard theſe words, ſhe ſaid. O the
liberality of Nathan! How honourable and wonderfull is that? I
haue paſt through two and thirty gates of his Palace, euen ſuch as
are here, and at euery one I receyued an almes, without any knowledgement
taken of me, either by him, or any of his followers: and
heere I haue paſt but through thirteene gates, and am there both acknowledged
and taken. Farewell to this houſe, for I neuer meane
to viſit it any more; with which words ſhee departed thence, and
neuer after came thither againe.
When Mithridanes had a while pondered on her ſpeeches, hee
waxed much diſcontented, as taking the words of the olde woman,
to extoll the renowne of Nathan, and darken or ecclipſe his glorie,
whereupon he ſaid to himſelfe. Wretched man as I am, when ſhall
I attaine to the height of liberality, and performe ſuch wonders, as
Nathan doth? In ſeeking to ſurmount him, I cannot come neere
him in the very meaneſt. Vndoubtedly, I ſpend all my endeauour
but in vaine, except I rid the world of him, which (ſeeing his age
will not make an end of him) I muſt needs do with my own hands.
In which furious and bloody determination (without reuealing his
intent to any one) he mounted on horſe-backe, with few attendants
in his company, and after three dayes iourney, arriued where Nathan
dwelt. He gaue order to his men, to make no ſhew of beeing
his ſeruants, or any way to acknowledge him: but to prouide them
ſelues of conuenient lodgings, vntill they heard other tydings from
him.
About Euening, and (in this manner) alone by himſelfe, neere to
the Palace of Nathan, he met him ſolitarily walking, not in pompous
apparrell, whereby to bee diſtinguiſhed from a meaner man:
and, becauſe he knew him not, neyther had heard any relation of
his deſcription, he demanded of him, if he knew where Nathan then
was? Nathan, with a chearfull countenance, thus replyed. Faire
Syr, there is no man in theſe parts, that knoweth better how to
ſhew you Nathan then I do; and therefore, if you be ſo pleaſed, I
will bring you to him. Mithridanes ſaid, therein he ſhould do him
a great kindneſſe: albeit (if it were poſſible) he would bee neyther
knowne nor ſeene of Nathan. And that (quoth he) can I alſo do ſufficiently
for you, ſeeing it is your will to haue it ſo, if you will goe along
with me.
Diſmounting from his horſe, he walked on with Nathan, diuerſly
diſcourſing, vntill they came to the Pallace, where one of the ſeruants
taking Mithridanes his horſe, Nathan rounded the fellow in
the care, that he ſhould giue warning to all throughout the Houſe,
for reuealing to the Gentleman, that he was Nathan; as accordingly
it was performed. No ſooner were they within the Pallace, but he
conducted Mithridanes into a goodly chamber, wher none (as yet)
had ſeene him, but ſuch as were appointed to attend on him reuerently;
yea, and he did himſelfe greatly honor him, as being loth to
leaue his company.
While thus Mithridanes conuerſed with him, he deſired to know
(albeit he reſpected him much for his yeares) what he was. Introth
Sir, anſwered Nathan, I am one of the meaneſt ſeruants to Nathan,
and from my child-hood, haue made my ſelfe thus olde in his ſeruice:
yet neuer hath he beſtowed any other aduancement on mee,
then as you now ſee; in which reſpect, howſoeuer other men may
commend him, yet I haue no reaſon at all to do it. Theſe Words,
gaue ſome hope to Mithridanes, that with a little more counſell, he
might ſecurely put in execution his wicked determination. Nathan
likewiſe demaunded of him (but in very humble manner) of
whence, and what he was, as alſo the buſineſſe inuiting him thither:
offering him his vtmoſt aide and counſell, in what ſoeuer conſiſted
in his power.
Mithridanes ſat an indifferent while meditating with his thoghts
before he would returne any anſwer: but at the laſt, concluding to
repoſe confidence in him (in regard of his pretended diſcontentmēt)
with many circumſtantial perſwaſions, firſt for fidelity, next for conſtancie,
and laſtly for counſell and aſſiſtance, he declared to him truly
what he was, the cauſe of his comming thither, and the reaſon vrging
him thereto. Nathan hearing theſe words, and the deteſtable
deliberation of Mithridanes, became quite changed in himſelf: yet
wiſely making no outward appearance thereof, with a bold courage
and ſetled countenance, thus he replyed.
Mithridanes, thy Father was a Noble Gentleman, and (in vertuous
qualities) inferiour to none, from whom (as now I ſee) thou
deſireſt not to degenerate, hauing vndertaken ſo bold & high an enterpriſe,
I meane, in being liberall and bountifull to all men. I do
greatly commend the enuy which thou beareſt to the vertue of Nathan:
becauſe if there were many more ſuch men, the world that is
now wretched and miſerable, would become good and conformable.
As for the determination which thou haſt diſcloſed to mee, I
haue ſealed it vp ſecretly in my ſoule: wherein I can better giue thee
counſell, then any eſpeciall helpe or furtherance: and the courſe
which I would haue thee to obſerue, followeth thus in few words.
This window, which we now looke forth at, ſheweth thee a ſmal
wood or thicket of trees, being litle more then the quarter of a miles
diſtance hence; whereto Nathan vſually walketh euery morning,
and there continueth time long enough: there maiſt thou very eaſily
meet him, and do whatſoeuer thou intendeſt to him. If thou kilſt
him, becauſe thou maiſt with ſafety returne home vnto thine owne
abiding, take not the ſame way which guided thee thither, but another,
lying on the left hand, & directing ſpeedily out of the wood,
as being not ſo much haunted as the other, but rather free from all
reſort, and ſureſt for viſiting thine owne countrey, after ſuch a diſmall
deed is done.
When Mithridanes had receyued this inſtruction, and Nathan
was departed from him, hee ſecretly gaue intelligence to his men,
(who likewiſe were lodged, as welcom ſtrangers, in the ſame houſe)
at what place they ſhould ſtay for him the next morning. Night being
paſſed ouer, and Nathan riſen, his heart altred not a iot from his
counſel giuen to Mithridanes, much leſſe changed from anie part
thereof: but all alone by himſelfe, walked on to the wood, the place
appointed for his death. Mithridanes alſo being riſen, taking his
Bow & Sword (for other weapons had he none) mounted on horſbacke,
and ſo came to the wood, where (ſomewhat farre off) hee eſpyed
Nathan walking, and no creature with him. Diſmounting
from his horſe, he had reſolued (before he would kill him) not onely
to ſee, but alſo to heare him ſpeake: ſo ſtepping roughly to him,
and taking hold of the bonnet on his head, his face being then turned
from him, he ſayde. Old man, thou muſt dye. Whereunto
Nathan made no other anſwer, but thus: Why then (belike) I haue
deſerued it.
When Mithridanes heard him ſpeake, and looked aduiſedly on
his face, he knew him immediatly to be the ſame man, that had entertained
him ſo louingly, conuerſed with him ſo familiarly, and
counſelled him ſo faithfully: all which ouercomming his former fury,
his harſh nature became meerly confounded with ſhame: So
throwing downe his drawne ſword, which he held readily prepared
for the deede: he proſtrated himſelfe at Nathans feet, and in teares,
ſpake in this manner. Now do I manifeſtly know (moſt louing Father)
your admired bounty and liberalitie; conſidering, with what
induſtrious prouidence, you made the meanes for your comming
hither, prodigally to beſtow your life on me, which I haue no right
vnto, although you were ſo willing to part with it. But thoſe high
and ſupreame powers, more carefull of my dutie, then I my ſelfe:
euen at the very inſtant, and when it was moſt needfull, opened the
eyes of my better vnderſtanding, which infernall enuy had cloſed
vp before. And therefore, looke how much you haue bin forward
to pleaſure me; ſo much the more ſhame and puniſhment, I confeſſe
my heinous tranſgreſſion hath iuſtly deſerued: take therefore on
me (if you pleaſe) ſuch reuenge, as you thinke (in iuſtice) anſwerable
to my ſin.
Nathan louingly raiſed Mithridanes from the ground, then kiſſing
his cheeke, and tenderly embracing him, he ſaid. Sonne, thou
needeſt not to aske, much leſſe to obtaine pardon, for any enterpriſe
of thine, which thou canſt not yet terme to be good or bad: becauſe
thou ſoughteſt not to bereaue me of my life, for any hatred thou
bareſt me, but onely in couering to be reputed the Woorthier man.
Take then this aſſurance of me, and beleeue it conſtantly, that there
is no man liuing, whom I loue and honour, as I do thee: conſidering
the greatneſſe of thy minde, which conſiſteth not in the heaping
vp of money, as wretched and miſerable Worldlings make it
their onely felicity; but, contending in bounty to ſpend what is
thine, didſt hold it for no ſhame to kil me, thereby to make thy ſelfe
ſo much the more worthily famous.
Nor is it any matter to be wondred at, in regard that Emperors,
and the greateſt Kings, hadde neuer made ſuch extendure of their
Dominions, and conſequently of their renowne, by any other Art,
then killing; yet not one man onely, as thou wouldſt haue done: but
infinite numbers, burning whole Countries, and making deſolate
huge Townes and Cities, onely to enlarge their dominion, and further
ſpreading of their fame. Wherfore, if for the increaſing of thine
owne renowne, thou waſt deſirous of my death: it is no matter of
nouelty, and therefore deſeruing the leſſe meruaile, ſeeing men are
ſlaine daily, and all for one purpoſe or other.
Mithridanes, excuſing no further his maleuolent deliberation,
but rather commending the honeſt defence, which Nathan made
on his behalfe; proceeded ſo farre in after diſcourſing, as to tel him
plainely, that it did wondrouſly amaze him, how he durſt come to
the fatall appointed place, himſelfe hauing ſo exactly plotted and
contriued his owne death: whereunto Nathan returned this aunſwere.
I would not haue thee Mithridanes, to wonder at my counſel or
determination; becauſe, ſince age hath made mee Maiſter of mine
owne will, and I reſolued to doe that, wherein thou haſt begun
to follow me: neuer came any man to mee, whom I did not content
(if I could) in any thing he demanded of me. It was thy fortune
to come for my life, which when I ſaw thee ſo deſirous to haue
it, I reſolued immediately to beſtow it on thee: and ſo much the rather,
becauſe thou ſhouldſt not be the onely man, that euer departed
hence, without enioying whatſoeuer hee demanded. And, to
the end thou mightſt the more aſſuredly haue it, I gaue thee that
aduice, leaſt by not enioying mine, thou ſhouldeſt chance to looſe
thine owne. I haue had the vſe of it full foureſcore yeares, with the
conſummation of all my delights and pleaſures: and well I know,
that according to the courſe of Nature (as it fares with other men,
and generally all things elſe) it cannot bee long before it muſt leaue
mee.
Wherefore, I hold it much better for me to giue it away freely,
as I haue alwayes done my goods and treaſure; then bee curious in
keeping it, and ſuffer it to be taken from me (whether I will or no)
by Nature. A ſmall gift it is, if time make me vp the full ſumme of
an hundred yeares: how miſerable is it then, to ſtand beholding
but for foure or fiue, and all of them vexation too? Take it then I intreate
thee, if thou wilt haue it; for I neuer met with any man before
(but thy ſelfe) that did deſire it, nor (perhaps) ſhall finde any other
to requeſt it: for the longer I keepe it, the worſe it wil be eſteemed:
and before it grow contemptible, take it I pray thee.
Mithridanes, being exceedingly confounded with ſhame, baſhfully
ſayde: Fortune fore-fend, that I ſhould take away a thing ſo
precious as your life is, or once to haue ſo vile a thought of it as lately
I had; but rather then I would diminiſh one day thereof, I could
wiſh, that my time might more amply enlarge it. Forthwith aunſwered
Nathan, ſaying. Wouldſt thou (if thou couldſt) ſhorten
thine owne dayes, onely to lengthen mine? Why then thou wouldeſt
haue me to do that to thee, which (as yet) I neuer did vnto any
man, namely, robbe thee, to enrich my ſelfe. I will enſtruct thee
in a much better courſe, if thou wilt be aduiſed by mee. Luſty and
young, as now thou art, thou ſhalt dwell heere in my houſe, and be
called by the name of Nathan. Aged, and ſpent with yeares, as
thou ſeeſt I am, I will goe liue in thy houſe, and bee called by the
name of Mithridanes. So, both the name and place ſhall illuſtrate
thy Glorie, and I liue contentedly, without the very leaſt thought
of enuie.
Deare Father, anſwered Mithridanes, if I knew ſo well howe to
direct mine owne actions, as you doe, and alwayes haue done, I
would gladly accept your moſt liberall offer: but becauſe I plainlie
perceiue, that my very beſt endeauours, muſt remayne darkened
by the bright renowne of Nathan: I will neuer ſeeke to impayre
that in another, which I cannot (by any means) increaſe in my ſelfe,
but (as you haue worthily taught me) liue contented with my owne
condition.
After theſe, and many more like louing ſpeeches had paſſed between
them; according as Nathan very inſtantly requeſted, Mithridanes
returned back with him to the Pallace, where many dayes he
highly honored & reſpected him, comforting & counſelling him, to
perſeuer alwayes in his honourable determination. But in the end,
when Mithridanes could abide there no longer, becauſe neceſſary
occaſions called him home: he departed thence with his men, hauing
found by good experience, that hee could neuer goe beyond
Nathan in liberality.
Signior Gentile de Cariſendi, being come from Modena, took a Gentlewoman, named Madam Catharina, forth of a graue, wherin ſhe was buried for dead: which act he did, in regard of his former honeſt affection to the ſaid Gentlewoman. Madame Catharina remaining afterward, and deliuered of a goodly Sonne: was (by Signior there Gentile) deliuered to her owne Husband, named Signior Nicoluccio Caccianimico, and the yong infant with her.
The Fourth Nouell.
Wherein is ſhewne, That true loue hath alwayes bin, and ſo ſtill is, the occaſion of many great and worthy courteſies.
BY iudgment of all the honorable aſſembly, it was reputed wonderfull,
that a man ſhould be ſo bountifull, as to giue away his
owne life, and to his hatefull enemy. In which reſpect, it paſſed
with generall affirmation, that Nathan (in the vertue of liberallity)
had exceeded Alphonſo. King of Spain, but (eſpecially) the Abbot of
Clugny. So, after euery one had deliuered their opinion, the King,
turning himſelfe to Madame Lauretta, gaue her ſuch a ſigne, as well
inſtructed her vnderſtanding, that ſhe ſhould be the next in order,
whereto ſhe gladly yeelding, began in this manner.
Youthfull Ladies, the diſcourſes already paſt, haue been ſo worthy
and magnificent, yea, reaching to ſuch a height of glorious
ſplendour; as (me thinkes) there remaineth no more matter, for vs
that are yet to ſpeake, whereby to enlarge ſo famous an Argument,
and in ſuch manner as it ought to be: except we lay hold on the
actions of loue, wherein is neuer any want of ſubiect, it is ſo faire
and ſpacious a field to walke in. Wherefore, as well in behalfe of
the one, as aduancement of the other, whereto our inſtant age is
moſt of all inclined: I purpoſe to acquaint you with a generous
and magnificent act, of an amourous Gentleman, which when it
ſhall be duely conſidered on, perhaps will appeare equall to any of
the reſt. At leaſt, if it may paſſe for currant, that men may giue away
their treaſures, forgiue mighty iniuries, and lay downe life it ſelfe,
honour and renowne (which is farre greater) to infinite dangers, only
to attaine any thing eſteemed and affected.
Vnderſtand then (Gracious hearers) that in Bologna, a very famous
City of Lombardie, there liued ſometime a Knight, moſt highly
reſpected for his vertues, named Signior Gentile de Cariſendi,
who (in his yonger dayes) was enamoured of a Gentlewoman, called
Madam Catharina, the Wife of Signior Nicoluccio Caccianimico.
And becauſe during the time of his amourous purſuite, he found
but a ſorry enterchange of affection from the Lady; hee went (as
hopeleſſe of any ſucceſſe) to be Poteſtate of Modena, whereto he
was called by place and order.
At the ſametime, Signior Nicoluccio being abſent from Bologna,
and his Lady at a Farme-houſe of his in the Countrey (about three
miles diſtant from the City) becauſe ſhe was great with child, and
ſomewhat neere the time of her teeming: it came to paſſe, that
ſome dangerous accident befell her, which was ſo powerfull in operation,
as no ſigne of life appeared remained in her, but ſhe was
reputed (euen in the iudgement of the beſt Phiſitians, whereof ſhe
wanted no attendance) to be verily dead. And becauſe in the opinion
of her parents and neereſt kinred, the time for her deliuerance
was yet ſo farre off, as the Infant within her, wanted much of a perfect
creature: they made the leſſe mourning; but in the next
Church, as alſo the vault belonging to her Anceſtors; they gaue her
buriall very ſpeedily.
Which tydings comming to the hearing of Signior Gentile, by
one that was his endeared friend: Although (while ſhe liued) he
could neuer be gracious in her fauour, yet her ſo ſudden death did
greatly grieue him, whereupon he diſcourſed in this ſort with himſelfe.
Deare Madame Catharina, I am not a little ſorry for thy
death, although (during thy life-time) I was ſcarcely worthy of one
kind looke: Yet now being dead, thou canſt not prohibite me, but
I may robbe thee of a kiſſe. No ſooner had hee ſpoke the words,
but it beeing then night, and taking ſuch order, as none might
know of his departure: hee mounted on horſe-backe, accompanied
onely with one ſeruant, and ſtayed no where, till hee
came to the vault where the Lady was buried. Which when
he had opened, with inſtruments conuenient for the purpoſe, he
deſcended downe into the vault, and kneeled downe by the Beere
whereon ſhe lay, and in her wearing garments, according to the vſuall
manner; with teares trickling mainly downe his cheekes, he beſtowed
infinite ſweet kiſſes on her.
But as we commonly ſee, that mens deſires are neuer contented,
but ſtill will preſume on further aduantages, eſpecially ſuch as loue
entirely: ſo fared it with Gentile, who being once minded to get
him gone, as ſatisfied with the oblation of his kiſſes; would needs
yet ſtep backe againe, ſaying. Why ſhould I not touch her yuory
breaſt, the Adamant that drew all deſires to adore her? Ah let me
touch it now, for neuer hereafter can I bee halfe ſo happy. Ouercome
with this alluring appetite, gently he laid his hand vpon her
breaſt, with the like awefull reſpect, as if ſhe were liuing, and holding
it ſo an indifferent while: either he felt, or his imagination ſo
perſwaded him, the heart of the Lady to beate and pant. Caſting
off all fond feare, and the warmth of his increaſing the motion: his
inward ſoule aſſured him, that ſhe was not dead vtterly, but had
ſome ſmall ſenſe of life remaining in her, whereof he would needs
be further informed.
So gently as poſſible he could, and with the helpe of his man, he
tooke her forth of the monument, & laying her ſoftly on his horſe
before him, conueighed her cloſely to his houſe in Bologna. Signior
Gentile had a worthy Lady to his Mother, a woman of great wiſdome
and vertue, who vnderſtanding by her Sonne, how matters
had happened; moued with compaſſion, and ſuffering no one in the
houſe to know what was done, made a good fire, and very excellent
Bathe, which recalled back againe wrong-wandering life. Then
fetching a vehement ſigh, opening her eyes, & looking very ſtrangly
about her, ſhe ſaid. Alas! where am I now? whereto the good
old Lady kindly replyed, ſaying. Comfort your ſelfe Madame, for
you are in a good place.
Her ſpirits being in better manner met together, and ſhe ſtill gazing
euery way about her, not knowing well where ſhe was, and
ſeeing Signior Gentile ſtanding before her: he entreated his mother
to tell her by what meanes ſhe came thither; which the good old
Lady did, Gentile himſelfe helping to relate the whole hiſtory. A
while ſhe grieued and lamented, but afterward gaue them moſt
hearty thankes, humbly requeſting, that, in regard of the loue he
had formerly borne her, in his houſe ſhe might finde no other vſage,
varying from the honour of her ſelfe and her Husband, and
when day was come, to be conueighed home to her owne houſe.
Madame, anſwered Signior Gentile, whatſoeuer I ſought to gaine
from you in former dayes, I neuer meane, either here, or any where
elſe, to motion any more. But ſeeing it hath been my happy fortune,
to proue the bleſſed means, of reducing you from death to life:
you ſhal find no other entertainment here, then as if you were mine
owne Siſter. And yet the good deed which I haue this night done
for you, doth well deſerue ſome courteous requitall: in which
reſpect, I would haue you not to deny me one fauour, which I will
preſume to craue of you. Whereto the Lady louingly replyed,
that ſhe was willing to grant it; prouided, it were honeſt, and in her
power: whereto Signior Gentile thus anſwered.
Madame, your parents, kindred and friends, and generally all
throughout Bologna, doe verily thinke you to be dead, wherefore
there is not any one, that will make any inquiſition after you: in
which regard, the fauour I deſire from you, is no more but to abide
here ſecretly with my Mother, vntill ſuch time as I returne from
Modena, which ſhall be very ſpeedily. The occaſion why I moue
this motion, aymeth at this end, that in preſence of the chiefeſt perſons
of our City, I may make a gladſome preſent of you to your
Husband. The Lady knowing her ſelfe highly beholding to the
Knight, and the requeſt he made to be very honeſt: diſpoſed her
ſelfe to doe as he deſired (although ſhe earneſtly longed, to glad her
parents and kindred with ſeeing her aliue) and made her promiſe
him on her faith, to effect it in ſuch manner, as he pleaſed to appoint
and giue her direction.
Scarcely were theſe words concluded, but ſhe felt the cuſtome
of women to come vpon her, with the paines and throwes incident
to childing: wherefore, with helpe of the aged Lady, Mother to
Signior Gentile, it was not long before her deliuerance of a goodly
Sonne, which greatly augmented the ioy of her and Gentile, who
tooke order, that all things belonging to a woman in ſuch a caſe,
were not wanting, but ſhe was as carefully reſpected, euen as if ſhe
had been his owne Wife. Secretly he repaired to Modena, where
hauing giuen direction for his place of authority; he returned back
againe to Bologna, and there made preparation for a great and ſolemne
feaſt, appointing who ſhould be his inuited gueſts, the very
chiefeſt perſons in Bologna, and (among them) Signior Nicoluccio
Caccianimico the eſpeciall man.
After he was diſmounted from horſebacke, and found ſo good
company attending for him (the Lady alſo, more faire and healthful
then euer, and the Infant liuely diſpoſed) he ſate downe at the Table
with his gueſts, cauſing them to be ſerued in moſt magnificent
manner, with plenty of all delicates that could be deuiſed, and neuer
before was there ſuch a Iouiall feaſt. About the ending of dinner,
cloſely he made the Lady acquainted with his further intention,
and likewiſe in what order euery thing ſhould be done, which
being effected, he returned to his company, & vſed theſe ſpeeches.
Honourable friends, I remember a diſcourſe ſometime made
vnto me, concerning the Countrey of Perſia, and a kind of cuſtome
there obſerued, not to be miſliked in mine opinion. When any one
intended to honour his friend in effectuall manner, he inuited him
home to his houſe, and there would ſhew him the thing, which
with greateſt loue he did reſpect; were it Wife, Friend, Sonne,
Daughter, or any thing elſe whatſoeuer; wherewithall hee ſpared
not to affirme, that as he ſhewed him thoſe choyce delights, the like
view he ſhould haue of his heart, if with any poſſibility it could be
done; and the very ſame cuſtome I meane now to obſerue here in
our City. You haue vouchſafed to honour me with your preſence,
at this poore homely dinner of mine, and I will welcome you after
the Perſian manner, in ſhewing you the Iewell, which (aboue all
things elſe in the world) I euer haue moſt reſpectiuely eſteemed.
But before I doe it, I craue your fauourable opinions in a doubt,
which I will plainely declare vnto you.
If any man hauing in his houſe a good and faithfull ſeruant, who
falling into extremity of ſickeneſſe, ſhall be throwne forth into the
open ſtreet, without any care or pitty taken on him: A ſtranger
chanceth to paſſe by, and (moued with compaſſion of his weakeneſſe)
carryeth him home to his owne houſe, where vſing all charitable
diligence, and not ſparing any coſt, he recouereth the ſicke
perſon to his former health. I now deſire to know, if keeping the
ſaid reſtored perſon, and imploying him about his owne buſineſſe:
the firſt Maſter (by pretending his firſt right) may lawfully complaine
of the ſecond, and yeeld him backe againe to the firſt maſter,
albeit he doe make challenge of him?
All the Gentlemen, after many opinions paſſing among them,
agreed altogether in one ſentence, and gaue charge to Signior Nicoluccio,
Caccianimico, (becauſe he was an excellent and elegant
ſpeaker) to giue anſwere for them all. Firſt, he commended the cuſtome
obſerued in Perſia, ſaying, he iumpt in opinion with all the
reſt, that the firſt Maſter had no right at all to the ſeruant, hauing
not onely (in ſuch neceſſity) forſaken him, but alſo caſt him forth into
the comfortleſſe ſtreet. But for the benefits and mercy extended
to him; it was more then manifeſt, that the recouered perſon, was
become iuſtly ſeruant to the ſecond Maſter, and in detayning him
from the firſt, hee did not offer him any iniury at all. The whole
Company ſitting at the Table (being all very wiſe & worthy men)
gaue their verdict likewiſe with the confeſſion of Signior Nicoluccio
Caccianimico. Which anſwere did not a little pleaſe the Knight;
and ſo much the rather, becauſe Nicoluccio had pronounced it, affirming
himſelfe to be of the ſame minde.
So, ſitting in a pretended muſing a while, at length he ſaid. My
honourable gueſts, it is now more then high time, that I ſhould doe
you ſuch honour, as you haue moſt iuſtly deſerued, by performing
the promiſe made vnto you. Then calling two of his ſeruants, he
ſent them to Madame Catharina (whom he had cauſed to adorne
her ſelf in excellent manner) entreating her, that ſhe would be pleaſed
to grace his gueſts with her preſence. Catharina, hauing deckt
her child in coſtly habiliments, layed it in her armes, and came with
the ſeruauts into the dyning Hall, and ſate down (as the Knight had
appointed) at the vpper end of the Table, and then Signior Gentile
ſpake thus. Behold, worthy Gentlemen, this is the Iewell which I
haue moſt affected, and intend to loue none other in the world; be
you my Iudges, whether I haue iuſt occaſion to doe ſo, or no? The
Gentlemen ſaluting her with reſpectiue reuerence, ſaid to the
Knight; that he had great reaſon to affect her: And viewing her
aduiſedly, many of them thought her to be the very ſame woman
(as indeed ſhe was) but that they beleeued her to be dead.
But aboue all the reſt, Nicoluccio Caccianimico could neuer be ſatisfied
with beholding her; and, enflamed with earneſt deſire, to
know what ſhe was, could not refraine (ſeeing the Knight was gone
out of the roome) but demaunded of her, whether ſhe were of Bologna,
or a ſtranger? when the Lady heard her ſelfe to be thus queſtioned,
and by her Husband, it ſeemed painefull to her, to containe
from anſwering: Neuertheleſſe, to perfect the Kinghts intended
purpoſe, ſhe ſate ſilent. Others demaunded of her, whether the
ſweet Boy were hers, or no; and ſome queſtioned, if ſhe were Gentiles
Wife, or no, or elſe his Kniſewoman; to all which demaunds,
ſhe returned not any anſwere. But when the Knight came to them
againe, ſome of them ſaid to him. Sir, this woman is a goodly creature,
but ſhe appeareth to be dumbe, which were great pitty, if it
ſhould be ſo. Gentlemen (quoth he) it is no ſmall argument of her
vertue, to ſit ſtill and ſilent at this inſtant. Tell vs then (ſaid they) of
whence, and what ſhe is. Therein (quoth he) I will quickely reſolue
you, vpon your conditionall promiſe: that none of you do remoue
from his place, whatſoeuer ſhall be ſaid or done, vntill I haue fully
deliuered my minde. Euery one bound himſelfe by ſolemne promiſe,
to perform what he had appointed, and the Tables being voided,
as alſo the Carpets laid; then the Knight (ſitting downe by the
Lady) thus began.
Worthy Gentlemen, this Lady is that true and faithfull ſeruant,
wherof I moued the queſtion to you, whom I tooke out of the cold
ſtreet, where her parents, kindred and friends (making no account at
all of her) threw her forth, as a thing vile and vnprofitable. Neuertheleſſe,
ſuch hath been my care and coſt, that I haue reſcued her
out of deaths griping power; and, in a meere charitable diſpoſition,
which honeſt affection cauſed me to beare her; of a body, full
of terror & affrighting (as then ſhe was) I haue cauſed her to become
thus louely as you ſee. But becauſe you may more apparantly diſcerne,
in what manner this occaſion happened; I will lay it open to
you in more familiar manner. Then he began the whole hiſtory,
from the originall of his vnbeſeeming affection to her (in regard ſhe
was a worthy mans wife) and conſequently, how all had happened
to the inſtant houre, to the no meane admiration of all the hearers,
adding withall. Now Gentlemen (quoth he) if you varry not from
your former opinion, and eſpecially Signior Nicoluccio Caccianimico:
this Lady (by good right) is mine, and no man elſe, by any
iuſt title, can lay any claime to her.
All ſate ſilent, without anſwering one word, as expecting what
he intended further to ſay: but in the meane while, Nicoluccio, the
parents and kindred, but chiefely the Lady her ſelfe, appeared as
halfe melted into teares with weeping. But Signior Gentile, ſtarting
vp from the Table, taking the Infant in his arme, and leading
the Lady by the hand, going to Nicoluccio, thus ſpake. Riſe Sir, I will
not giue thee thy wife, whom both her kindred and thine, threw
forth into the ſtreet: but I will beſtow this Lady on thee, being my
Goſſip, and this ſweet Boy my God-ſonne, who was (as I am verily
perſwaded) begotten by thee, I ſtanding witneſſe for him at the
Font of Baptiſme, and giue him mine owne name Gentile. Let me
entreat thee, that, although ſhe hath liued here in mine houſe, for the
ſpace of three monethes, ſhe ſhould not be leſſe welcome to thee,
then before: for I ſweare to thee vpon my ſoule, that my former
affection to her (how vniuſt ſoeuer) was the onely meanes of preſeruing
her life: and more honeſtly ſhe could not liue, with Father,
Mother, or thy ſelfe, then ſhe hath done here with mine owne Mother.
Hauing thus ſpoken, he turned to the Lady, ſaying. Madame, I
now diſcharge you of all promiſes made me, deliuering you to your
Husband franke and free: And when he had giuen him the Lady,
and the child in his armes, he returned to his place, and ſate downe
againe. Nicoluccio, with no meane ioy and hearty contentment
receiued both his wife and childe, being before farre from expectation
of ſuch an admirable comfort; returning the Knight infinite
thankes (as all the reſt of the Company did the like) who could not
refraine from weeping for meere ioy, for ſuch a ſtrange and wonderful
accident: euery one highly commending Gentile, & ſuch alſo
as chanced to heare thereof. The Lady was welcommed home to
her owne houſe, with many moneths of Iouiall feaſting, and as ſhe
paſſed through the ſtreets, all beheld her with admiration, to be ſo
happily recouered from her graue. Signior Gentile liued long after,
a loyall friend to Nicoluccio and his Lady, and all that were well-willers
to them.
What thinke you now Ladies? Can you imagine, becauſe a
King gaue away his Crowne and Scepter; and an Abbot (without
any coſt to himſelfe) reconciled a Malefactor to the Pope; and an
old idle-headed man, yeelding to the mercy of his enemy: that all
thoſe actions are comparable to this of Signior Gentile? Youth and
ardent affection, gaue him a iuſt and lawfull title, to her who was
free (by imagined death) from Husbands, Parents, and all friends
elſe, ſhe being ſo happily wonne into his owne poſſeſſion. Yet honeſty
not onely ouer-ſwayed the heate of deſire, which in many
men is violent and immoderate: but with a bountifull and liberall
ſoule, that which he coueted beyond all hopes elſe, and had within
his owne command; he freely gaue away. Beleeue me (bright
Beauties) not any of the other (in a true and vnpartiall iudgement)
are worthy to be equalled with this, or ſtiled by the name of magnificent
actions.
Madame Dianora, the Wife of Signior Gilberto, being immodeſtly affected by Signior Anſaldo, to free her ſelfe from his tedious importunity, ſhe appointed him to performe (in her iudgement) an act of impoſsibility; namely, to giue her a Garden, as plentifully ſtored with fragrant Flowers in lanuary, as in the flouriſhing moneth of May. Anſaldo, by meanes of a bond which he made to a Magitian, performed her requeſt. Signior Gilberto, the Ladyes Husband, gaue conſent, that his Wife ſhould fulfill her promiſe made to Anſaldo. Who hearing the bountifull mind of her Husband; releaſed her of her promiſe: And the Magitian likewiſe diſcharged Signior Anſaldo, without taking any thing of him.
The Fift Nouell.
Admoniſhing all Ladies and Gentlewomen, that are deſirous to preſerue their chaſtity, free from all blemiſh and taxation: to make no promiſe of yeelding to any, vnder a compact or couenant, how impoſſible ſoeuer it may ſeeme to be.
NOt any one in all the Company, but extolled the worthy
Act of Signior Gentile to the skies; till the King gaue
command to Madame Aemillia, that ſhe ſhould follow
next with her Tale, who boldly ſtepping vp, began in this order.
Gracious Ladies, I thinke there is none heere preſent among vs,
but (with good reaſon) may maintaine, that Signiour Gentile performed
a magnificent deede: but whoſoeuer ſaith, it is impoſſible
to do more; perhaps is ignorant in ſuch actions, as can and may be
done, as I meane to make good vnto you, by a Nouell not ouerlong
or tedious.
The Countrey of Fretulium, better knowne by the name of Forum
Iulij; although it be ſubiect to much cold, yet it is pleaſant, in
regard of many goodly Mountaines, Riuers, and cleare running
Springs, wherewith it is not meanly ſtored. Within thoſe Territories,
is a City called Vdina, where ſometime liued a faire and Noble
Lady, named Madame Dianora, Wife to a rich and woorthie
Knight, called Signior Gilberto, a man of very great fame and merite.
This beautiful Lady, beeing very modeſt and vertuouſly inclined,
was highly affected by a Noble Baron of thoſe parts, tearmed
by the name of Signior Anſaldo Gradenſe; a man of very great ſpirit,
bountifull, actiue in Armes, and yet very affable and courteous,
which cauſed him to be the better reſpected. His loue to this Lady
was extraordinary, hardly to bee contained within any moderate
compaſſe, ſtriuing to bee in like manner affected of her: to vvhich
end, ſhe wanted no daily ſolicitings, Letters, Ambaſſages and Louetokens,
all prouing to no purpoſe.
This vertuous Lady, being wearied with his often temptations,
and ſeeing, that by denying whatſoeuer he demanded, yet he wold
not giue ouer his ſuite, but ſo much the more importunatly ſtil purſued
her: began to bethinke her ſelfe, how ſhe might beſt be rid of
him, by impoſing ſome ſuch taske vpon him, as ſhould bee impoſſible
(in her opinion) for him to effect. An olde woman, whom hee
imployed for his continual meſſenger to her, as ſhee came one day
about her ordinary errand, with her ſhe communed in this manner.
Good woman (quoth ſhe) thou haſt ſo often aſſured me, that Signior
Anſaldo loueth me aboue all other Women in the world, offering
me wonderfull gifts and preſents in his name, which I haue alwayes
refuſed, and ſo ſtil wil do, in regard I am not to be woon by
any ſuch allurements: yet if I could be ſoundly perſwaded, that his
affection is anſwerable to thy peremptory proteſtations, I ſhoulde
(perhaps) be the ſooner wonne, to liſten to his ſuite in milder manner,
then hitherto I haue done. Wherefore, if he wil giue me aſſurance,
to perform ſuch a buſineſſe as I mean to enioyne him, he ſhall
the ſpeedier heare better anſwer from me▪ and I wil confirme it with
mine oath.
Wonderfully pleaſed was Miſtreſſe Maquerella, to heare a reply
of ſuch comfortable hope; and therefore deſired the Lady, to tel hir
what ſhe wold haue done. Liſten to me wel (anſwerd Madam Dianora)
the matter which I would haue him to effect for me, is; without
the wals of our City, and during the month of Ianuarie nexte
enſuing, to prouide me a Garden, as fairely furniſhed with all kind
of fragrant flowers, as the flouriſhing month of May can yeelde no
better. If he be not able to accompliſh this impoſition, then I command
him, neuer hereafter to ſolicite me any more, either by thee,
or any other whatſoeuer: for, if he do importune me afterward, as
hitherto I haue concealed his ſecret conſpiring, both from my huſband,
and all my friends; ſo will I then lay his diſhoneſt ſuite open
to the world, that he may receiue puniſhment accordingly, for offering
to wrong a Gentleman in his wife.
When Signior Anſaldo heard her demand, and the offer beſide
thereuppon made him (although it ſeemed no eaſie matter, but a
thing meerly impoſſible to be done) he conſidered aduiſedly, that
ſhe made this motion to no other end, but onely to bereaue him of
all his hope, euer to enioy what ſo earneſtly hee deſired: neuertheleſſe,
he would not ſo giue it vtterly ouer, but would needs approue
what could be done. Heereupon, hee ſent into diuers partes of the
world, to find out any one that was able to aduiſe him in this doubtfull
caſe. In the end, one was brought to him, who beeing well recompenced
for his paines, by the Art of Nigromancie would vnder
take to do it. With him Signior Anſaldo couenanted, binding himſelfe
to pay a great ſumme of mony, vpon performance of ſo rare a
deed, awaiting (in hopefull expectation) for the month of Ianuaries
comming.
It being come, and the weather then in extreamity of cold, euery
thing being couered with ice and ſnow, the Magitian preuailed ſo
by his Art, that after the Chriſtmas Holy dayes were paſt, and the
Calends of Ianuary entred: in one night, and without the Cittie
Wals, the goodlieſt Garden of flowers and fruites, was ſodainely
ſprung vp, as (in opinion of ſuch as beheld it) neuer was the like ſeen
before. Now Ladies, I think I need not demand the queſtion, whether
Signior Anſaldo were wel pleaſed, or no, who going to beholde
it, ſaw it moſt plenteouſly ſtored, with al kind of fruit trees, flowers,
herbes and plants, as no one could be named, that was wanting in
this artificiall garden. And hauing gathered ſome pretty ſtore of
them, ſecretly he ſent them to Madam Dianora, inuiting hir to come
ſee her Garden, perfected according to her owne deſire, and vppon
view thereof, to confeſſe the integrity of his loue to her, conſidering
and remembring withall, the promiſe ſhee had made him vnder ſolemne
oath, that ſhe might be reputed for a woman of her word.
When the Lady beheld the fruites and flowers, and heard many
other thinges re-counted, ſo wonderfully growing in the ſame
Garden: ſhe began to repent her raſh promiſe made; yet notwithſtanding
her repentance, as Women are couetous to ſee all rarities;
ſo, accompanied with diuers Ladies and Gentlewomen more, ſhe
went to ſee the Garden; and hauing commended it with much admiration,
ſhe returned home againe, the moſt ſorrowfull Woman
as euer liued, conſidering what ſhe had tyed her ſelfe to, for enioying
this Garden. So exceſſiue grew her griefe and affliction, that it
could not be ſo clouded or concealed: but her Husband tooke notice
of it, and would needs vnderſtand the occaſion thereof. Long
the Lady (in regard of ſhame and modeſty) ſate without returning
any anſwer; but being in the end conſtrained, ſhe diſcloſd the whol
Hiſtory to him.
At the firſt, Signior Gilberto waxed exceeding angry, but when
he further conſidered withall, the pure and honeſt intention of his
Wife; wiſely he pacified his former diſtemper, and ſaide. Dianora,
it is not the part of a wiſe and honeſt woman, to lend an eare to ambaſſages
of ſuch immodeſt nature, much leſſe to compound or make
agreement for her honeſty, with any perſon, vnder any condition
whatſoeuer. Thoſe perſwaſions which the heart liſteneth to, by allurement
of the eare, haue greater power then many do imagine, &
nothing is ſo vneaſie or difficult, but in a louers iudgement it appeareth
poſſible. Ill didſt thou therefore firſt of all to liſten, but worſe
(afterward) to contract.
But, becauſe I know the purity of thy ſoule, I wil yeelde (to diſoblige
thee of thy promiſe) as perhaps no wiſe man elſe would do:
mooued thereto onely by feare of the Magitian, who ſeeing Signior
Anſaldo diſpleaſed, becauſe thou makeſt a mockage of him; will
do ſome ſuch violent wrong to vs, as we ſhal be neuer able to recouer.
Wherefore, I would haue thee go to Signior Anſaldo, and if
thou canſt (by any meanes) obtaine of him, the ſafe-keeping of thy
honour, and ful diſcharge of thy promiſe; it ſhal be an eternall fame
to thee, and the crowne of a moſt victorious conqueſt. But if it muſt
needs be otherwiſe, lend him thy body onely for once, but not thy
wil: for actions committed by conſtraint, wherein the will is no
way guilty, are halfe pardonable by the neceſſity.
Madame Dianora, hearing her husbands words, wept exceedingly,
and auouched, that ſhee had not deſerued any ſuch eſpeciall
grace of him, and therefore ſhe would rather dye, then doe it. Neuertheleſſe,
it was the wil of her Husband to haue it ſo, and therefore
(againſt her wil) ſhe gaue conſent. The next morning, by the
breake of day, Dianora aroſe, and attiring her ſelfe in her very meaneſt
garments, with two ſeruingmen before her, and a waiting Woman
following, ſhe went to the lodging of Signior Anſaldo, who
hearing that Madam Dianora was come to viſite him, greatly meruailed,
and being riſen, he called the Magitian to him▪ ſaying. Come
go with me, and ſee what effect will follow vpon thine Art. And being
come into her preſence, without any baſe or inordinate appetite,
he did her humble reuerence, embracing her honeſtly, and taking
her into a goodly Chamber, where a faire fire was readilie
prepared, cauſing her to ſit downe by him, he ſayde vnto her as followeth.
Madam, I humbly intreat you to reſolue me, if the affection I haue
long time borne you, and yet do ſtil, deſerue any recompence at all:
you would be pleaſed then to tel me truly, the occaſion of your inſtant
comming hither, and thus attended as you are. Dianora, bluſhing
with modeſt ſhame, and the teares trickling mainly down her
faire cheekes, thus anſwered. Signior Anſaldo, not for any Loue I
beare you, or care of my faithfull promiſe made to you, but onely
by the command of my husband (who reſpecting more the paynes
and trauels of your inordinate loue, then his owne reputation and
honor, or mine;) hath cauſed me to come hither: and by vertue of
his command, am ready (for once onely) to fulfill your pleaſure, but
far from any will or conſent in my ſelfe. If Signior Anſaldo were abaſhed
at the firſt, hee began now to be more confounded with admiration,
when he heard the Lady ſpeake in ſuch ſtrange manner: &
being much moued with the liberall command of her husband, he
began to alter his inflamed heate, into moſt honourable reſpect and
compaſſion, returning her this anſwer.
Moſt noble Lady, the Gods forbid (if it be ſo as you haue ſayd)
that I ſhould (Villain-like) ſoile the honour of him, that takes ſuch
vnvſuall compaſſion of my vnchaſte appetite. And therefore, you
may remaine heere ſo long as you pleaſe, in no other condition, but
as mine owne naturall borne Siſter; and likewiſe, you may depart
freely when you will: conditionally, that (on my behalfe) you render
ſuch thankes to your husband, as you thinke conuenient for his
great bounty towards me, accounting me for euer heereafter, as his
loyall Brother and faithfull ſeruant. Dianora hauing well obſerued
his anſwer, her heart being ready to mount out at her mouth vvith
ioy, ſaid. All the world could neuer make mee beleeue (conſidering
your honourable minde and honeſty) that it would happen otherwiſe
to me, then now it hath done, for which noble courteſie, I will
continually remaine obliged to you. So, taking her leaue, ſhe returned
home honorably attended to her husband, and relating to him
what had happened, it proued the occaſion of begetting intire loue
and friendſhip, betweene himſelfe and the Noble Lord Anſaldo.
Now concerning the skilfull Magitian, to whom Anſaldo meant
to giue the bountifull recompence agreed on betweene them, hee
hauing ſeene the ſtrange liberality, which the husband expreſſed to
Signior Anſaldo, and that of Anſaldo to the Lady, hee preſently
ſaide. Great Iupiter ſtrike me dead with thunder, hauing my ſelfe
ſeene a husband ſo liberall of his honour, and you Sir of true noble
kindneſſe, if I ſhould not be the like of my recompence: for, perceiuing
it to be ſo worthily imployed, I am well contented that you
ſhal keepe it. The Noble Lord was modeſtly aſhamed, and ſtroue
(ſo much as in him lay) that he ſhould take all, or the greater part
thereof: but ſeeing he laboured meerly in vaine, after the third day
was paſt, and the Magitian had deſtroyed the Garden againe, hee
gaue him free liberty to depart, quite controlling all fond and
vnchaſte affection in himſelfe, either towards Dianora, or any Lady
elſe, and liuing (euer after) as beſt becommeth any Nobleman
to do.
What ſay you now Ladies? Shal wee make any account of the
woman wel-neere dead, and the kindneſſe growne cold in Signiour
Gentile, by loſſe of his former hopes, comparing them with the liberality
of Signior Anſaldo, affecting more feruently, then euer the
other did? And being (beyond hope) poſſeſſed of the booty, which
(aboue all things elſe in the world) he moſt deſired to haue, to part
with it meerly in fond compaſſion? I proteſt (in my iudgement) the
one is no way comparable to the other, that of Gentile, with this laſt
of Signior Anſaldo.
Victorious King Charles, ſirnamed the Aged, and firſt of that Name, fell in loue with a yong Maiden, named Geneuera, daughter to an ancient Knight, called Signior Neri degli Vberti. And waxing aſhamed of his amorous folly, cauſed both Geneuera, and her fayre Siſter Iſotta, to be ioyned in marriage with two Noble Gentlemen; the one named Signior Maffeo da Palizzi, and the other, Signior Gulielmo della Magna.
The Sixt Nouell.
Sufficiently declaring, that how mighty ſoeuer the power of Loue is: yet a magnanimous and truly generous heart, it can by no meanes fully conquer.
WHo is able to expreſſe ingeniouſly, the diuerſity of opinions,
which hapned among the Ladies, in cenſuring on the
act of Madame Dianora, and which of them was moſt liberall,
either Signior Gilberto the Husband, Lord Anſaldo the importunate
ſuiter, or the Magitian, expecting to bee bountifully rewarded.
Surely, it is a matter beyond my capacity: but after the
King had permitted their diſputation a long while, looking on Madam
Fiammetta, he commanded that ſhe ſhould report her Nouel
to make an end of their controuerſie; and ſhe (without any further
delaying) thus began. I did alwaies (Noble Ladies) hold it fit and
decent, that in ſuch an aſſembly as this of ours is, euery one ought
to ſpeake ſo ſuccinctly and plainly: that the obſcure vnderſtanding,
concerning the matters ſpoken of, ſhould haue no cauſe of diſputation.
For diſputes do much better become the Colledges of Schollers,
then to be among vs, who hardly can manage our Diſtaues or
Samplers. And therefore I, doe intend to relate ſomething, which
(peraduenture) might appeare doubtfull: will forbeare (ſeeing you
in ſuch a difference; for that which hath bin ſpoken alreadie) to vſe
any difficult diſcourſe; but will ſpeake of one, a man of no meane
ranke or quality, being both a valiant and vertuous King, and what
he did, without any impeach or blemiſh to his honor.
I make no doubt, but you haue often heard report, of king Charls
the Aged, and firſt of that name, by reaſon of his magnificent enterpriſes,
as alſo his moſt glorious victory, which he obtaind againſt
King Manfred, when the Ghibellines were expulſed foorth of Florence,
and the Guelphes returned thither againe. By which occaſion,
an ancient knight, named Signior Neri degli Vberti; forſaking
then the City, with all his family and great ſtore of wealth, woulde
liue vnder any other obedience, then the awful power or command
of King Charles. And coueting to be in ſome ſolitary place, where
he might finiſh the remainder of his dayes in peace, he went to Caſtello
da Mare; where, about a Bow ſhoote diſtance from all other
dwelling houſes, hee bought a parcel of ground, plentifully ſtored
with variety of Trees, bearing Oliues, Cheſnuts, Orenges, Lemons
Pomcitrons, and other excellent frutages, wherewith the Countrey
flouriſheth abundantly. There he built a very faire and commodious
houſe, and planted (cloſe by it) a pleaſant Garden, in the middſt
whereof, becauſe he had great plenty of water: according as other
men vſe to do, being in the like caſe ſo wel prouided; he made a very
goodly Pond, which forthwith had all kinde of Fiſh ſwimming
in it, it being his daily care and endeuour, to tend his Garden, and
encreaſe his Fiſh-pond.
It fortuned, that King Charles (in the Summer time) for his pleaſure
and recreation, went to repoſe himſelfe (for ſome certayne
dayes) at Caſtello de Mare, where hauing heard report of the beautie
and ſingularitie of Signiour Neries Garden; hee grew very deſirous
to ſee it. But when he vnderſtoode to whome it belonged,
then he entred into conſideration with himſelfe, that hee was an ancient
Knight, maintaining a contrarie faction to his: wherefore, he
thought it fit to goe in ſome familiar manner, and with no trayne
attending on him. Wherupon he ſent him word, that he wold come
to viſit him, with foure Gentlemen onely in his companie, meaning
to ſup with him in his Garden the next night enſuing. The newes
was very welcome to Signior Neri, who took order in coſtly maner
for all things to bee done, entertaining the King moſt ioyfully into
his beautifull Garden.
When the King had ſuruayed all, and the houſe likewiſe, he commended
it beyond all other compariſon, and the Tables being placed
by the Ponds ſide, he waſhed his hands therin, & then ſat down
at the table, commanding the Count, Sir Guy de Montforte (who
was one of them which came in his company) to ſitte downe by
him, and Signior Neri on his other ſide. As for the other three of
the traine, hee commaunded them to attend on his ſeruice, as Signior
Neri had giuen order. There wanted no exquiſite Viandes
and excellent Wines, all performed in moſt decent manner, and
without the leaſt noiſe or diſturbance, wherein the King tooke no
little delight.
Feeding thus in this contented manner, and facying the ſolitude
of the place: ſodainly entred into the garden, two yong Damoſels,
each aged about ſome fifteene yeares, their haire reſembling wyars
of Gold, and curiouſly curled, hauing Chaplets (made like prouinciall
Crownes) on their heades, and their delicate faces, expreſſing
them to be rather Angels, then mortall creatures, ſuch was the appearance
of their admired beauty. Their vnder-garments were of
coſtly Silke, yet white as the fineſt ſnow, framed (from the girdle
vpward) cloſe to their bodies, but ſpreading largely downward, like
the extendure of a Pauillion, and ſo deſcending to the feet. She that
firſt came in ſight, caried on her ſhoulder a couple of fiſhing Netts,
which ſhe held faſt with her left-hand, and in the right ſhe carryed a
long ſtaffe. The other following her, had on her left ſhoulder a Frying-pan,
and vnder the ſame arme a ſmall Faggot of woodde, with a
Treuit in her hand; and in the other hand a pot of Oyle, as alſo a
brand of fire flaming.
No ſooner did the King behold them, but he greatly wondered
what they ſhould be; and, without vttering one word, attended to
liſten what they wold ſay. Both the yong damoſels, when they were
come before the King, with modeſt and baſhfull geſture, they performed
very humble reuerence to him, and going to the place of entrance
into the Pond, ſhe who held the Treuit, ſet it downe on the
ground, with the other things alſo; and taking the ſtaffe which the
other Damoſell carried: they both went into the Pond, the water
whereof reached ſo high as to their boſomes. One of the Seruants
to Signior Neri, preſently kindled the fire, ſetting the Treuit ouer
it, and putting Oyle into the Frying-panne, held it vppon the Treuit,
awaiting vntill the Damoſels ſhould caſt him vppe Fiſh. One
of them did beate a place with the ſtaffe, where ſhe was aſſured of
the Fiſhes reſort, and the other hadde lodged the Nets ſo conueniently,
as they quickly caught great ſtore of Fiſh, to the Kings high
contentment, who obſerued their behauiour very reſpectiuely.
As the Fiſhes were throwne vp to the ſeruant, aliue as they were,
he tooke the beſt and faireſt of them, and brought them to the
Table, where they skipt and mounted before the King, Count Guy
de Montfort and the Father: ſome leaping from the Table into the
Pond againe, and others, the King (in a pleaſing humour) voluntarily
threw backe to the Damoſels. Ieſting and ſporting in this manner,
till the ſeruant had dreſt diuers of them in exquiſite order, and
ſerued them to the Table, according as Signior Neri had ordained.
When the Damoſels ſaw the Fiſhes ſeruice performed, and perceiued
that they had fiſhed ſufficiently: they came forth of the water,
their garments then (being wet) hanging cloſe about them, euen as
if they hid no part of their bodies. Each hauing taken thoſe things
againe, which at firſt they brought with them, and ſaluting the king
in like humility as they did before, returned home to the manſion
houſe.
The King and Count likewiſe, as alſo the other attending Gentlemen,
hauing duely conſidered the behauior of the Damoſels: commended
extraordinarily their beauty and faire feature, with thoſe
other perfections of Nature ſo gloriouſly ſhining in them. But (beyond
all the reſt) the King was boundleſſe in his praiſes giuen of
them, hauing obſerued their going into the water, the equall carriage
there of them both, their comming forth, and gracious demeanor
at their departing (yet neither knowing of whence, or what they
were) he felt his affection very violently flamed, and grew into ſuch
an amourous deſire to them both, not knowing which of them
pleaſed him moſt, they ſo choiſely reſembled one another in all
things.
But after he had dwelt long enough vpon theſe thoughts, he turned
him ſelfe to Signior Neri, and demanded of him, what Damoſels
they were. Sir (anſwered Neri) they are my Daughters, both
brought into the world at one birth, and Twinnes, the one
being named Geneuera the faire, and the other Iſotta the amiable.
The King began againe to commend them both, and gaue him aduiſe
to get them both married: wherein he excuſed himſelfe, alleadging,
that he wanted power to doe it. At the ſame time inſtant,
no other ſeruice remaining to be brought to the table, except Fruit
and Cheeſe, the two Damoſels returned againe, attyred in goodly
Roabes of Carnation Sattin, formed after the Turkiſh faſhion, carrying
two fayre Siluer diſhes in their hands, filled with diuers delicate
Fruies, ſuch as the ſeaſon then afforded, ſetting them on the
Table before the King. Which being done, they retyred a little
backeward, and with ſweet melodious voyces, ſung a ditty, beginning
in this manner.
Where Loue preſumeth into place:
Let no one ſing in Loues diſgrace.
So ſweet and pleaſing ſeemed the Song to the King (who tooke
no ſmall delight, both to heare and behold the Damoſels) euen as if
all the Hirarchies of Angels, were deſcended from the Heauens to
ſing before him. No ſooner was the Song ended, but (humbly on
their knees) they craued fauour of the King for their departing.
Now, although their departure was greatly grieuing to him, yet (in
outward appearance) he ſeemed willing to grant it.
When Supper was concluded, and the King and his Company
remounted on horſebacke: thankefully departing from Signior
Neri, the King returned to his lodging, concealing there cloſely his
affection to himſelfe, and whatſoeuer important affaires happened:
yet he could not forget the beauty, & gracious behauiour of Geneuera
the faire (for whoſe ſake he loued her Siſter likewiſe) but became
ſo linked to her in vehement maner, as he had no power to think on
any thing elſe. Pretending other vrgent occaſions, he fell into
great familiarity with Signior Neri, viſiting very often his goodly
Garden; onely to ſee his faire Daughter Geneuera, the Adamant
which drew him thither.
When he felt his amourous aſſaults, to exceed all power of longer
ſufferance: he reſolued determinately with himſelfe, (being
vnprouided of any better meanes) to take her away from her Father,
and not onely ſhe, but her Siſter alſo; diſcouering both his
loue and intent to Count Guy de Montforte, who being a very worthy
and vertuous Lord, and meet to be a Counſeller for a King, deliuered
his mind in this manner.
Gracious Lord, I wonder not a little at your ſpeeches, and ſo
much the greater is my admiratiō, becauſe no mā els can be ſubiect
to the like, in regard I haue knowne you from the time of your infancy;
euen to this inſtant houre, and alwayes your carriage to bee
one and the ſame. I could neuer perceiue in your youthfull dayes
(when loue ſhould haue the greateſt meanes to aſſaile you) any ſuch
oppreſſing paſſions: which is now the more nouell and ſtrange to
me, to heare it but ſaid, that you being old, and called the Aged;
ſhould be growne amorous, ſurely to me it ſeemeth a miracle. And
if it appertained to me to reprehend you in this caſe, I know well enough
what I could ſay. Conſidering, you haue yet your Armour
on your backe, in a Kiugdome newly conquered, among a Nation
not knowne to you, full of falſehoods, breaches, and treaſons; all
which are no meane motiues to care and needfull reſpect. But hauing
now wone a little leiſure, to reſt your ſelfe a while from ſuch
ſerious affaires; can you giue way to the idle ſuggeſtions of Loue?
Beleeue me Sir, it is no act becomming a magnanimious King; but
rather the giddy folly of a young braine.
Moreouer you ſay (which moſt of all I miſlike) that you intend
to take the two Virgines from the Knight, who hath giuen you entertainment
in his houſe beyond his ability, and to teſtifie how
much he honoured you, he ſuffered you to haue a ſight of them,
meerely (almoſt) in a naked manner: witneſſing thereby, what conſtant
faith he repoſed in you, beleeuing verily, that you were a iuſt
King, and not a rauenous Woolfe. Haue you ſo ſoone forgot, that
the rapes and violent actions, done by King Manfred to harmeleſſe
Ladies, made your onely way of entrance into this Kingdome?
What treaſon was euer committed, more worthy of eternall puniſhment,
then this will be in you: to take away from him (who
hath ſo highly honoured you) his chiefeſt hope and conſolation?
What will be ſaid by all men, if you doe it?
Peraduenture you thinke, it will be a ſufficient excuſe for you, to
ſay: I did it, in regard hee was a Ghihelline. Can you imagine this
to be iuſtice in a King, that ſuch as get into their poſſeſſion in this
manner (whatſoeuer it be) ought to vſe it in this ſort? Let me tell
you Sir, it was a moſt worthy victory for you, to conquer King
Manfred: but it is farre more famous victory, for a man to con
•
uer
himſelfe. You therfore, who are ordained to correct vices in
〈◊〉
men, learne firſt to ſubdue them in your ſelfe, and (by brideling
this inordinate appetite) ſet not a foule blemiſh on ſo faire a
fame, as will be honour to you to preſerue ſpotleſſe.
Theſe words pierced the heart of the King deepely, and ſo
much the more afflicted him, becauſe he knew them to be moſt
true: wherefore, after he had ventred a very vehement ſigh, thus he
replyed. Beleeue me noble Count, there is not any enemy, how
ſtrong ſoeuer he be, but I hold him weake and eaſie to be vanquiſhed,
by him who is skilfull in the warre, where a man may learne to
conquere his owne appetite. But becauſe he ſhall find it a laborious
taske, requiring ineſtimable ſtrength and courage: your words
haue ſo toucht me to the quicke, that it becommeth me to let you
effectually perceiue (and within the compaſſe of few dayes) that as
I haue learned to conquer others, ſo I am not ignorant, in expreſſing
the like power vpon my ſelfe.
Hauing thus ſpoken, within ſome few dayes after, the King being
returned to Naples, he determined, as well to free himſelf from
any the like enſuing follie, as alſo to recompence Signior Neri, for
the great kindneſſe he had ſhewne to him (although it was a difficult
thing, to let another enioy, what he rather deſired for himſelfe)
to haue the two Damoſels married, not as the Daughters of Signior
Neri, but euen as if they were his owne. And by conſent of the
Father, he gaue Geneuera the faire, to Signior Maffeo da Palizzi,
and Iſotta the amiable, to Signior Gulielmo della Magna, two Noble
Knights and honourable Barons. After he had thus giuen them in
marriage, in ſad mourning he departed thence into Apuglia, where
by following worthy and honourable actions, he ſo well ouercame
all inordinate appetites: that ſhaking off the enthralling fetters of
loue, he liued free from all paſſions, the reſt of his life time, and dyed
as an honourable King.
Some perhaps will ſay, it was a ſmall matter for a King, to giue away
two Damoſels in marriage, and I confeſſe it: but I maintaine
it to be great, and more then great, if we ſay, that a King, being ſo
earneſtly enamoured as this King was; ſhould giue her away to
another, whom he ſo dearely affected himſefe, without receiuing
(in recompence of his affection) ſo much as a leaffe, flowre, or the
leaſt fruit of loue. Yet ſuch was the vertue of this magnificent
King, expreſſed in ſo highly recompencing the noble Knights courteſie,
honouring the two daughters ſo royally, and conquering his
owne affections ſo vertuouſly.
Liſana, the Daughter of a Florentine Apothecary, named Bernardo Puccino, being at Palermo, and ſeeing Piero, King of Aragon run at the Tilt; fell ſo affectionately enamored of him, that ſhe languiſh
••
in an extreame and long ſickeneſſe. By her owne deuiſe, and means of a Song, ſung in the hearing of the King: he vouchſafed to viſite her, and giuing her a kiſſe, terming himſelfe alſo to bee her Knight for euer after, hee honourably beſtowed her in marriage on a young Gentleman, who was called Perdicano, and gaue him liberall endowments with her.
The Seuenth Nouell.
Wherein is couertly giuen to vnderſtand, that howſoeuer a Prince may make vſe of his abſolute power and authority, towards Maides or Wiues that are his Subiects: yet he ought to deny and reiect all things, as ſhall make him forgetfull of himſelfe, and his true honour.
MAdame Fiammetta being come to the end of her Nouell,
and the great magnificence of King Charles much commended
(howbeit, ſome of the Company, affecting the
Ghibelline faction, were otherwiſe minded) Madame Pampinea, by
order giuen from the King, began in this manner.
There is no man of good vnderſtanding (honourable Ladies) but
will maintaine what you haue ſaid of victorious Charles; except
ſuch as cannot wiſh well to any. But becauſe my memory hath
inſtantly informed me, of an action (perhaps) no leſſe commendable
then this, done by an enemy of the ſaid King Charles, and to a
yong Maiden of our City, I am the more willing to relate it, vpon
your gentle attention vouchſafed, as hitherto it hath been courteouſly
granted.
At ſuch time as the French were driuen out of Sicilie, there
dwelt at Palermo a Florentine Apothecary, named Bernardo Puccino,
a man of good wealth and reputation, who had by his Wife
one onely Daughter, of marriageable yeares, and very beautifull.
Piero, King of Arragon, being then become Lord of that Kingdom,
he made an admirable Feaſt Royall at Palermo, accompanyed with
his Lords and Barons. In honour of which publique Feaſt, the
King kept a triumphall day (of Iuſts and Turnament) at Catalana,
and whereat it chanced, that the Daughter of Bernardo, named Liſana,
was preſent. Being in a window, accompanied with other
Gentlewomen, ſhe ſaw the King runne at the Tilt, who ſeemed ſo
goodly a perſon in her eye; that being neuer ſatisfied with beholding
him, ſhe grew enamoured, and fell into extremity of affection
towards him.
When the Feaſtiuall was ended, ſhe dwelling in the houſe of her
Father, it was impoſſible for her to thinke on any thing elſe, but
onely the loue, which ſhe had fixed on a perſon of ſuch height.
And that which moſt tormented her in this caſe, was the knowledge
of her owne condition, being but meane and humble in degree;
whereby ſhe confeſſed, that ſhe could not hope for any ſucceſſefull
iſſue of her proud loue. Neuertheleſſe, ſhe would not refraine
from affecting the King, who taking no note of this kindneſſe
in her, by any perceiuable meanes; muſt needs be the more
regardles, which procured (by wary obſeruation) her afflictions to
be the greater and intollerable.
Whereon it came to paſſe, that this earneſt loue encreaſing in
her more and more, and one melancholly conceit taking hold on
another: the faire Maide, when ſhe could beare the burden of her
griefe no longer; fell into a languiſhing ſickeneſſe, conſuming away
daily (by euident appearance) euen as the Snow melteth by
the warme beames of the Sunne.
The Father and Mother, much diſmayed and diſpleaſed at
this hapleſſe accident, applying her with continuall comforts, Phiſicke,
and the beſt skill remayning in all the Phiſitions, ſought all
poſſible meanes wayes to giue her ſuccour: but all proued to no effect,
becauſe in regard of her choyce (which could ſort to none
other then a deſper ate end) ſhe was deſirous to liue no longer. Now
it fortuned, that her parents offering her whatſoeuer remained in
their power to performe, a ſudden apprehenſion entred her minde,
to wit, that (if it might poſſible be done) before ſhe dyed, ſhe would
firſt haue the King to know, in what manner ſhe ſtood affected to
him. Wherefore, one day ſhe entreated her Father, that a Gentleman,
named Manutio de Arezza, might be permitted to come ſee
her. This Manutio was (in thoſe times) held to be a moſt excellent
Muſitian, both for his voyce in ſinging, and exquiſite skill in playing
on Inſtruments, for which he was highly in fauour with King
Piero, who made (almoſt) daily vſe of him, to heare him both ſing
and play.
Her tender and louing father conceiued immediately, that ſhee
was deſirous to heare his playing and ſinging, both being comfortable
to a body in a languiſhing ſickeneſſe, whereupon, he ſent preſently
for the Gentleman, who came accordingly, and after he had
comforted Liſana with kind and courteous ſpeeches; he played
dexteriouſly on his Lute, which purpoſely hee had brought with
him, and likewiſe he ſung diuers excellent Ditties, which inſted of
his intended conſolation to the Maid, did nothing elſe but encreaſe
her fire and flame.
Afterward, ſhe requeſted to haue ſome conference with Manutio
alone, and euery one being gone forth of the Chamber, ſhe
ſpake vnto him in this manner.
Manutio, I haue made choyce of thee, to be the faithfull Guardian
of an eſpecial ſecret, hoping firſt of al, that thou wilt neuer reueale it
to any liuing body, but onely to him whom I ſhall bid thee: And
n
•
xt, to helpe me ſo much as poſſibly thou canſt, becauſe my onely
hope relyeth in thee. Know then my deareſt friend Manutio, that
on the ſolemne feſtiuall day, when our Soueraigne Lord the King
honoured his exaltation, with the noble exerciſes of Tilt and Turney;
his braue behauiour kindled ſuch a ſparke in my ſoule, as ſince
brake forth into a violent flame, and brought me to this weake condition
as now thou ſeeſt. But knowing and confeſſing, how farre
vnbeſeeming my loue is, to aime ſo ambitiouſly at a King, and being
vnable to controule it, or in the leaſt manner to diminiſh it:
I haue made choyce of the onely and beſt remedy of all, namely,
to dye, and ſo I am moſt willing to doe.
True it is, that I ſhall trauaile in this my lateſt iourney, with endleſſe
torment and affliction of ſoule, except he haue ſome vnderſtanding
thereof before, and not knowing by whom to giue him intelligence,
in ſo oft and conuenient order, as by thee▪ I doe therefore
commit this laſt office of a friend to thy truſt, deſiring thee, not
to refuſe me in the performance thereof. And when thou haſt
done it, to let me vnderſtand what he ſaith, that I may dye the
more contentedly, and diſburdened of ſo heauy an oppreſſion, the
onely comfort to a parting ſpirit: and ſo ſhe ceaſed, her teares flowing
forth abundantly.
Manutio did not a little wonder at the Maides great ſpirit, and
her deſperate reſolution, which moued him to exceeding commiſeration,
and ſuddenly he conceiued, that honectly he might diſcharge
this duty for her, whereupon, he returned her this anſwer.
Liſana, here I engage my faith to thee, that thou ſhalt find me firme
and conſtant, and die I will, rather then deceiue thee. Greatly I doe
commend thy high attempt, in fixing thy affection on ſo Potent
a King, wherein I offer thee my vtmoſt aſſiſtance: and I make no
doubt (if thou wouldeſt be of good comfort) to deale in ſuch ſort,
as, before three dayes are fully paſt, to bring ſuch newes as will content
thee, and becauſe I am loath to looſe the leaſt time, I will goe about
it preſently. Liſana the yong Maiden, once againe entreated
his care and diligence, promiſing to comfort her ſelfe ſo well as ſhe
could, commending him to his good fortune. When Manutio was
gone from her, hee went to a Gentleman, named Mico de
Sienna, one of the beſt Poets in the compoſing of verſes, as all thoſe
parts yeelded not the like. At his requeſt, Mico made for him this
enſuing Dittie.
The Song ſung in the hearing of King Piero, on the behalfe of Loueſicke Liſana.
Goe Loue, and tell the torments I endure,
Say to my Soueraigne Lord, that I muſt die
Except he come, ſome comfort to procure,
For tell I may not, what I feele, and why.
WIth heaued hands Great Loue, I call to thee,
Goe ſee my Soueraigne, where he doth abide,
And ſay to him, in what extremity,
Thou haſt (for him) my firm affection tryed.
To die for him, it is my ſole deſire,
For liue with him I may not, nor a ſpire,
To haue my fortunes thereby dignified,
Onely his ſight would lend me life a while:
Grant it (great loue) mine anguiſh to beguile.
Goe loue and tell the torments, &c.
Since the firſt houre that loue enthralled me,
I neuer had the heart, to tell my griefe,
My thoughts did ſpeake, for thoughts be alwayes free,
Yet hopefull thoughts doe find but poore reliefe.
When Gnats will mount to Eagles in the ayre,
Alas! they ſcorne them, for full well they know,
They were not bred to prey ſo baſe and low,
Aloft they look, to make their flight more faire.
And yet his ſight would lend me life a while:
Grant it (great loue) mine anguiſh to beguile.
Goe loue, and tell the torments, &c.
If ſight ſhall be denyed, then tell them plaine,
His high triumphall day procurd my death,
The Launce that won him Honour, hath me ſlaine.
For inſtantly it did bereaue my breath.
That ſpeake I could not, nor durſt be ſo bold,
To make the Ayre acquainted with my woe:
Alas! I lookt ſo high, and doing ſo,
Iuſtly deſerue by death to be controld.
Yet mercies ſight would lend me life a while,
Grant it (great loue) mine anguiſh to beguile.
Goe loue, and tell the torments I endure,
Say to my Soueraigne Lord, that I muſt die:
Except he come, ſome comfort to procure,
For tell I may not, what I feele, and why.
The lines contained in this Ditty, Manutio fitted with noates ſo
moouing and ſingularly muſicall, that euery word had the ſenſible
motion of life in it, where the King being (as yet) not riſen from the
Table, he commanded him to vſe both his Lute and voyce.
This ſeemed a happy opportunity to Manutio, to ſing the dittie
ſo purpoſely done and deuiſed: which hee deliuered in ſuch excellent
manner, the voice and Inſtrument concording ſo extraordinary
pleaſing; that all the perſons then in the Preſence; ſeemed rather
Statues, then liuing men, ſo ſtrangely they were wrapt with admiration,
and the King himſelfe farre beyond all the reſt, tranſported
with a rare kinde of alteration.
When Manutio had ended the Song, the King demanded of him,
whence this Song came, becauſe he had neuer heard it before? My
gracious Lord, anſwered Manutio, it muſt needes ſeeme ſtraunge to
your Maieſty, becauſe it is not fully three dayes, ſince it was inuented,
made, and ſet to the note. Then the King asked, whom it concerned?
Sir (quoth Manutio) I dare not diſcloſe that to any but
onely your ſelfe. Which anſwer made the King much more deſirous,
and being riſen from the Table, he tooke him into his Bed-chamber,
where Manutio related all at large to him, according to
the truſt repoſed in him. Wherwith the King was wonderfully
well pleaſed, greatly commending the courage of the Maide, and
ſaid, that a Virgin of ſuch a valiant ſpirit, did well deſerue to haue
her caſe commiſerated: and commanded him alſo, to goe (as ſent
from him) and comfort her, with promiſe, that the very ſame day, in
the euening, he would not faile to come and ſee her.
Manutio, more then contented, to carry ſuch glad tydings to Liſana;
without ſtaying in any place, and taking his Lute alſo with
him, went to the Apothecaries houſe, where ſpeaking alone with
the Maide: he told her what he had done, and afterward ſung the
ſong to her, in as excellent manner as he had done before, wherein
Liſana conceiued ſuch ioy and contentment, as euen in the very
ſame moment, it was obſerued by apparant ſignes, that the violence
of her fits forſooke her, and health began to get the vpper hand of
them. So, without ſuffering any one in the houſe to know it, or by
the leaſt meanes to ſuſpect it; ſhe comforted her ſelfe till the euening,
in expectation of her Soueraignes arriuall.
Piero being a Prince, of moſt liberall and benigne nature, hauing
afterward diuers times conſidered on the matters which Manutio
had reuealed to him, knowing alſo the yong Maiden, to bee both
beautifull and vertuous: was ſo much moued with pitty of her extremitie,
as mounting on horſe backe in the euening, and ſeeming
as if he rode abroad for his priuate recreation; he went directly to
the Apothecaries houſe, where deſiring to ſee a goodly garden, appertaining
then to the Apothecarie, he diſmounted from his horſe.
Walking into the garden, he began to queſtion with Bernardo, demaunding
him for his Daughter, and whether he had (as yet) marryed
her, or no? My Gracious Lord, anſwered Bernardo, as yet ſhee
is not marryed, neither likely to bee, in regard ſhee hath had a long
and tedious ſickeneſſe: but ſince Dinner time, ſhe is indifferently
eaſed of her former violent paine, which we could not diſcerne the
like alteration in her, a long while before.
The King vnderſtood immediately, the reaſon of this ſo ſudden
alteration, and ſaid. In good faith Bernardo, the world would ſuſtaine
a great maine & imperfection, by the loſſe of thy faire daughter;
wherefore, we will goe our ſelfe in perſon to viſite her. So, with
two of his Lords onely, and the Father, he aſcended to the Maides
Chamber & being entred, he went to the Beds ſide, where ſhe ſate,
ſomewhat raiſed, in expectation of his comming, and taking her by
the hand, he ſaid. Faire Liſana, how commeth this to paſſe? You being
ſo faire a Virgin, yong, and in the delicacy of your daies, which
ſhould be the chiefeſt comfort to you, will you ſuffer your ſelfe to
be ouer-awed with ſickeneſſe? Let vs intreat you, that (for our ſake)
you will be of good comfort, and thereby recouer your health the
ſooner, eſpecially, when it is requeſted by a King, who is ſorry to ſee
ſo bright a beauty ſicke, and would helpe it, if it conſiſted in his
power.
Liſana, feeling the touch of his hand, whom ſhe loued aboue all
things elſe in the world, although a baſhfull bluſh mounted vp into
her cheekes: yet her heart was ſeazed with ſuch a rapture of pleaſure,
that ſhe thought her ſelfe tranſlated into Paradiſe, and, ſo well
as ſhe could, thus ſhe replyed. Great King, by oppoſing my feeble
ſtrength, againſt a burden of ouer-ponderous weight, it became the
occaſion of this grieuous ſickeneſſe: but I hope that the violence
thereof is (almoſt) already kild, onely by this ſoueraigne mercy in
you▪ and doubtleſſe it will cauſe my ſpeedy deliuerance. The King
did beſt vnderſtand this ſo well palliated anſwere of Liſana, which
as he did much commend, in regard of her high aduenturing; ſo
he did againe as greatly condemne Fortune, for not making her
more happy in her birth.
So, after he had ſtayed there a good while, and giuen her many
comfortable ſpeeches, he returned backe to the Court. This humanity
in the King, was reputed a great honour to the Apothecary
and his daughter, who (in her owne mind) receiued as much ioy and
contentment thereby, as euer any wife could haue of her owne
Husband.
And being aſſiſted by better hopes, within a ſhort while after,
ſhe became recouered, and farre more beautifull (in common iudgment)
then euer ſhe was before.
Liſana being now in perfect health, the King conſulted with his
Queene, what meete recompence he ſhould gratifie her withall,
for louing and affecting him in ſuch feruent manner. Vpon a day
determined, the King mounting on horſebacke, accompanied with
many of his cheefeſt Lords and Barons, he rode to the Apothecaries
houſe, where walking in his beautifull Garden, hee called for
Bernardo and his daughter Liſana. In the meane ſpace, the Queene
alſo came thither, Royally attended on by her Ladies, and Liſana
being admitted into their company, they expreſſed themſelues very
gracious to her. Soone after, the King and the Queene cald Liſana,
and the King ſpake in this manner to her.
Faire Virgin, the extraordinary loue which you bare to vs, calleth
for as great honour from vs to you; in which reſpect, it is our
Royall deſire, by one meanes or other to requite your kinde Loue.
In our opinion, the chieſt honour we can extend to you, is, that being
of ſufficient yeares for marriage, you would grace vs ſo much,
as to accept him for your Husband, whom we intend to beſtow on
you. Beſide this further grant from vs, that (nowithſtanding whatſoeuer
elſe) you ſhall call vs your Knight; without coueting any
thing elſe from you, for ſo great fauour, but only one kiſſe, and
thinke not to beſtow it nicely on a King, but grant it the rather, becauſe
he begges it.
Liſana, whoſe lookes, were dyed with a vermillian tincture, or
rather conuerted into a pure maiden bluſh, reputing the Kings deſire
to be her owne; in a low and humbled voyce, thus anſwered.
My Lord, moſt certaine am I, that if it had beene publikely knowne,
how none but your highnes, might ſerue for me to fixe my loue on,
I ſhould haue been termed the foole of all fooles: they perhaps beleeuing,
that I was forgetfull of my ſelfe, in being ignorant of mine
owne condition, and much leſſe of yours. But the Gods are my witneſſes
(becauſe they know the ſecrets of all hearts) that euen in the
very inſtant, when Loues fire tooke hold on my yeelding affection:
I knew you to be a King, and my ſelfe the daughter of poore Bernardo
the Apothecary: likewiſe, how farre vnfitting it was for me, to
be ſo ambitious in my loues preſuming. But I am ſure your Maieſtie
doth know (much better then I am able to expreſſe) that no one
becommeth amourous, according to the duty of election, but as the
appetite ſhapeth his courſe, againſt whoſe lawes my ſtrength made
many reſiſtances, which not preuailing, I preſumed to loue, did, and
ſo for euer ſhall doe, your Maieſtie.
Now Royall Soueraigne, I muſt needes confeſſe, that ſo ſoone as
I felt my ſelfe thus wholly conquered by louing you, I reſolued for
euer after, to make your will mine owne, and therefore, am not onely
willing to accept him for my Husband, whom you ſhall pleaſe to
appoint, befitting my honor and degree: but if you will haue me to
liue in a flaming fire, my obedience ſhall ſacrifice it ſelfe to your
will, with the abſolute conformity of mine owne. To ſtile you by
the name of my Knight, whom I know to be my lawfull King and
Soueraigne; you are not ignorant, how farre vnfitting a word that
were for me to vſe: As alſo the kiſſe which you requeſt, in requitall
of my loue to you; to theſe two I wil neuer giue conſent, without
the Queenes moſt gracious fauour and licenſe firſt granted. Neuertheleſſe,
for ſuch admirable benignity vſed to me, both by your
Royall ſelfe, and your vertuous Queene: heauen ſhower downe all
boundleſſe graces on you both, for it exceedeth all merit in me, and
ſo ſhe ceaſed ſpeaking, in moſt dutifull manner.
The anſwer of Liſana pleaſed the Queene exceedingly, in finding
her to be ſo wiſe and faire, as the King himſelf had before informed
her: who inſtantly called for her Father and Mother, and knowing
they would be well pleaſed with whatſoeuer he did; he called for a
proper yong Gentleman, but ſomewhat poore, being named Perdicano,
and putting certaine Rings into his hand, which he refuſed
not to receiue, cauſed him there to eſpouſe Liſana. To whome the
King gaue immediately (beſides Chaines and Iewels of ineſtimable
valew, deliuered by the Queene to the Bride) Ceffala and Calatabelotta,
two great territories abounding in diuers wealthy poſſeſſions,
ſaying to Perdicano. Theſe wee giue thee, as a dowry in marriage
with this beautifull Maid, and greater gifts we will beſtow on thee
hereafter, as we ſhal perceiue thy loue and kindneſſe to her.
When he had ended theſe words, hee turned to Liſana, ſaying:
Heere doe I freely giue ouer all further fruits of your affection towards
me, thanking you for your former loue: ſo taking her head
betweene his hands, he kiſſed her faire forhead, which was the vſuall
cuſtome in thoſe times. Perdicano, the Father and Mother of
Liſana, and ſhe her ſelfe likewiſe, extraordinarily ioyfull for this ſo
fortunate a marriage, returned humble and hearty thankes both to
the King and Queene, and (as many credible Authors doe affirme)
the King kept his promiſe made to Liſana, becauſe (ſo long as he liued)
he alwaies termed himſelfe by the name of her Knight, and in
al actions of Chiualry by him vndertaken, he neuer carried any other
deuiſe, but ſuch as he receiued ſtill from her.
By this, and diuers other like worthy deeds, not onely did he win
the hearts of his ſubiects; but gaue occaſion to the whole world beſide,
to renowne his fame to all ſucceeding poſterity. Whereto (in
theſe more wretched times of ours) few or none bend the ſway of
their vnderſtanding: but rather how to bee cruell and tyrranous
Lords, and thereby win the hatred of their people.
Sophronia, thinking her ſelfe to be the maried wife of Giſippus, was (indeed) the wife of Titus Quintus Fuluius, & departed thence with him to Rome. Within a while after, Giſippus alſo came thither in very poore condition, and thinking that he was deſpiſed by Titus, grew weary of his life, and confeſſed that he had murdred a man, with ful intent to die for the fact. But Titus taking knowledge of him, and deſiring to ſaue the life of Giſippus, charged himſelf to haue done the bloody deed. Which the murderer himſelf (ſtanding then among the multitude) ſeeing, truly confeſſed the deed. By meanes whereof, all three were deliuered by the Emperor Octauius; and Titus gaue his Siſter in mariage to Giſippus, giuing them alſo the moſt part of his goods & inheritances.
The eight Nouell.
Declaring, that notwithſtanding the frownes of Fortune, diuerſity of occurrences, and contrary accidents happening: yet loue and frendſhip ought to be preciouſly preſerued among men.
BY this time Madam Philomena, at command of the King,
(Madam Pampinea ceaſing) prepared to follow next in
order, whereupon thus ſhe began. What is it (Gracious
Ladies) that Kings cannot do (if they liſt) in matters of greateſt importance,
and eſpecially vnto ſuch as moſt they ſhould declare their
magnificence? He then that performe
•
h what he ought to do, when
it is within his owne power, doth well. But it is not ſo much to bee
admired, neither deſerueth halfe the commendations, as when one
man doth good to another, when leaſt it is expected, as being out of
his power, and yet performed. In which reſpect, becauſe you haue
ſo extolled king Piero, as appearing not meanly meritorious in your
iudgements; I make no doubt but you will be much more pleaſed,
when the actions of our equals are duly conſidered, and ſhal paralell
any of the greateſt Kings. Wherefore I purpoſe to tell you a
Nouel, concerning an honorable curteſie of two worthy friends.
At ſuch time as Octauius Caeſar (not as yet named Auguſtus, but
only in the office called Triumueri) gouerned the Romane Empire,
there dwelt in Rome a Gentleman, named Publius Quintus Fuluius,
a man of ſingular vnderſtanding, who hauing one ſon, called Titus
Quintus Fuluius, of towardly yeares and apprehenſion, ſent him to
Athens to learne Philoſophy, but with letters of familiar commendations,
to a Noble Athenian Gentleman, named Chremes, being his
ancient friend, of long acquaintance. This Gentleman lodged Titus
in his owne houſe, as companion to his ſon, named Giſippus, both of
them ſtudying together, vnder the tutoring of a Philoſopher, called
Ariſtippus. Theſe two yong Gentlemen liuing thus in one Citty,
Houſe, and Schoole, it bred betweene them ſuch a brother-hoode
and amity, as they could not be ſeuered from one another, but only
by the accident of death; nor could either of them enioy any content,
but when they were both together in company.
Being each of them endued with gentle ſpirits, and hauing begun
their ſtudies together: they aroſe (by degrees) to the glorious height
of Philoſophy, to their much admired fame and commendation. In
this manner they liued, to the no meane comfort of Chremes, hardly
diſtinguiſhing the one from the other for his Son, & thus the Schollers
continued the ſpace of three yeares. At the ending wherof (as it
hapneth in al things elſe) Chremes died, whereat both the young
Gentlemen conceiued ſuch hearty griefe, as if he had bin their common
father; nor could the kinred of Chremes diſcerne, which of the
two had moſt need of comfort, the loſſe touched them ſo equally.
It chanced within ſome few months after, that the kinred of Giſippus
came to
•
ee him, and (before Titus) auiſed him to marriage, and
with a yong Gentlewoman of ſingular beauty, deriued from a moſt
noble houſe in Athens, and ſhe named Sophronia, aged about fifteen
years. This mariage drawing neere, Giſippus on a day, intreated Titus
to walk along with him thither, becauſe (as yet) he had not ſeene
her. Comming to the houſe, and ſhe ſitting in the midſt betweene
them, Titus making himſelfe a conſiderator of beauty, & eſpecially
on his friends behalfe; began to obſerue her very iudicially, & euery
part of her ſeemed ſo pleaſing in his eie, that giuing them al a priuat
praiſe, yet anſwerable to their due deſeruing; he becam ſo enflamed
with affection to her, as neuer any louer could bee more violentlie
ſurprized, ſo ſodainly doth beauty beguile our beſt ſenſes.
After they had ſate an indifferent while with her, they returned
home to their lodging, where Titus being alone in his chamber, began
to bethink himſelfe on her, whoſe perfections had ſo powerfully
pleaſed him: and the more he entred into this conſideration, the
fiercer he felt his deſires enflamed, which being vnable to quench,
by any reaſonable perſwaſions, after hee had vented foorth infinite
ſighes, thus he queſtioned with himſelfe.
Moſt vnhappie Titus as thou art, whether dooſt thou tranſport
thine vnderſtanding, loue, and hope? Dooeſt thou not know as
well by the honourable fauours, which thou haſt receiued of Chremes
and his houſe, as alſo the intire amity betweene thee and Giſippus
(vnto whom faire Sophronia is the affianced friend) that thou
ſhouldſt holde her in the like reuerent reſpect, as if ſhee were thy
true borne Siſter? Dareſt thou preſume to fancie her? Whether
ſhall beguiling Loue allure thee, and vaine immaging hopes carrie
thee? Open the eyes of thy better vnderſtanding, and acknowledge
thy ſelfe to bee a moſt miſerable man. Giue way to reaſon,
bridle thine in temperate appetites, reforme all irregulare deſires,
and guide thy fancy to a place of better direction. Reſiſt thy wanton
and laſciuio
•
s will in the beginning, and be maſter of thy ſelfe,
while thou haſt opportunity, for that which thou aimeſt at, is neyther
reaſonable nor honeſt. And if thou wert aſſured to preuaile vpon
this purſuite, yet thou oughtſt to auoide it, if thou haſt any regard
of true friendſhip, and the duty therein iuſtly required. What
wilt thou do then Titus? Fly from this inordinate affection, if thou
wilt be reputed to be a man of ſenſible iudgement.
After he had thus diſcourſed with himſelfe, remembring Sophronia,
and conuerting his former allegations, into a quite contrarie
ſenſe, in vtter deteſtation of them, and guided by his idle appetite,
thus he began againe. The lawes of loue are of greater force, then any
other whatſoeuer, they not only breake the bands of friendſhip,
but euen thoſe alſo of more diuine conſequence. How many times
hath it bin noted, the father to affect his own daughter, the brother
his ſiſter, and the ſtep mother her ſon in law, matters far more monſtrous,
then to ſee one friend loue the wife of another, a caſe happening
continually? Moreouer, I am yong, and youth is wholly ſubiected
to the paſſions of Loue: is it reaſonable then, that thoſe ſhould
be bard from me, which are fitting and pleaſing to Loue? Honeſt
things, belong to men of more years and maturity, then I am troubled
withall; and I can couet none, but onely thoſe wherein Loue is
directer. The beauty of Sophronia is worthy of generall loue, and if I
that am a yongman do loue her, what man liuing can iuſtly reproue
me for it? Shold not I loue her, becauſe ſhe is affianced to Giſippus?
That is no matter to me, I ought to loue her, becauſe ſhe is a womā,
and women were created for no other occaſion, but to bee Loued.
Fortune had ſinned in this caſe, and not I, in directing my frends affection
to her, rather then any other; and if ſhe ought to be loued, as
her perfections do challenge, Giſippus vnderſtanding that I affect
her, may be the better contented that it is I, rather then any other.
With theſe, and the like croſſe entercourſes, he often mockt himſelfe,
falling into the contrary, and then to this againe, and from the
contrary, into another kind of alteration, waſting and conſuming
himſelfe, not only this day and the night following, but many more
afterward, til he loſt both his feeding & ſleepe, ſo that through debility
of body, he was conſtrained to keepe his bed. Giſippus, who had
diuers dayes noted his melancholly diſpoſition, and now his falling
into extreamitie of ſickneſſe, was very ſorry to behold it: and with
all meanes and inuentions he could deuiſe to vſe, hee both queſtioned
the cauſe of this ſtraunge alteration, and eſſayed euerie way,
how hee might beſt comfort him, neuer ceaſſing to demaunde
a reaſon, why he ſhould become thus ſad and ſickely. But Titus
after infinite importuning (which ſtill he anſwered with idle and friuolous
excuſes, farre from the truth indeede, and (to the no meane
affliction of his friend) when he was able to vſe no more contradictions;
at length, in ſighes and teares, thus he replyed.
Giſippus, were the Gods ſo wel pleaſed, I could more gladly yeild
to dye, then continue any longer in this wretched life, conſidering,
that Fortune hath brought mee to ſuch an extremity, as proofe is
now to be made of my conſtancie and vertue; both which I finde
conquered in me, to my eternall confuſion and ſhame. But my beſt
hope is, that I ſhal ſhortly be requited, as I haue in iuſtice deſerued,
namely with death, which will be a thouſand times more welcome
to me, then a loathed life, with remembrance of my baſe deiection
in courage, which becauſe I can no longer conceale from thee; not
without bluſhing ſhame, I am well contented for to let thee know
it.
Then began hee to recount, the whole occaſion of this ſtraunge
conflict in him, what a maine battaile hee had with his priuate
thoughts, confeſſing that they got the victory, cauſing him to die
hourely for the loue of Sophronia, and affirming withall, that in due
acknowledgement, how greatly hee had tranſgreſſed againſt the
lawes of friendſhip, he thought no other penance ſufficient for him,
but onely death, which he willingly expected euery houre, and with
all his heart would gladly bid welcome.
Giſippus hearing this diſcourſe, and ſeeing how Titus bitterly
wept, in agonies of moſt mouing afflictions: ſat an indifferent while
ſad and penſiue, as being wounded with affection to Sophronia, but
yet in a well-gouerned and temperate manner. So, without any
long delaying, hee concluded with himſelfe; that the life of his
friend ought to be accounted much more deare, then any loue hee
could beare vnto Sophronia: And in this reſolution, the teares of
Titus forcing his eyes to flow forth like two Fountaines, thus he replyed.
Titus, if thou hadſt not neede of comfort, as plainly I ſee thou
haſt, I would iuſtly complaine of thee to my ſelfe, as of the man
who hath violated our friendſhip, in keeping thine extreamitie ſo
long time concealed from mee, which hath beene ouer-tedious for
thee to endure. And although it might ſeeme to thee a diſhoneſt
caſe, and therefore kept from the knowledge of thy friend, yet I
plainly tell thee, that diſhoneſt courſes (in the league of amitie) deſerue
no more concealment, then thoſe of the honeſteſt nature. But
leauing theſe impertinent wandrings, let vs come to them of much
greater neceſſitie.
If thou doeſt earneſtly loue faire Sophronia, who is betroathed
and affianced to me, it is no matter for me to maruaile at: but I
ſhould rather be much abaſhed, if thou couldſt not intyrely affect
her, knowing how beautifull ſhe is, and the nobility of her minde,
being as able to ſuſtaine paſſion, as the thing pleaſing is fulleſt of
excellence. And looke how reaſonably thou fancieſt Sophronia, as
vniuſtly thou complaineſt of thy fortune, in ordaining her to be
my wife, although thou doeſt not ſpeake it expreſly: as being of opinion,
that thou mightſt with more honeſty loue her, if ſhe were any
others, then mine. But if thou art ſo wiſe, as I haue alwayes held
thee to be, tell me truely vpon thy faith, to whom could Fortune
better guide her, and for which thou oughteſt to be more thankfull,
then in beſtowing her on me? Any other that had enioyed her, although
thy loue were neuer ſo honeſt, yet he would better affect
her himſelfe, then for thee, which thou canſt not (in like manner)
looke for from me, if thou doeſt account me for thy friend, and as
conſtant now as euer.
Reaſon is my warrant in this caſe, becauſe I cannot remember,
ſince firſt our entrance into friendſhip, that euer I enioyed any
thing, but it was as much thine, as mine. And if our affaires had
ſuch an equall courſe before, as otherwiſe they could not ſubſiſt;
muſt they not now be kept in the ſame manner? Can any thing
more perticularly appertaine to me, but thy right therein is as abſolute
as mine? I know not how thou maiſt eſteeme of my friendſhip,
if in any thing concerning my ſelfe, I can plead my priuiledge
to be aboue thine. True it is, that Sophronia is affianced to me, and
I loue her dearely, daily expecting when our nuptials ſhall be celebrated.
But ſeeing thou doeſt more feruently affect her, as being
better able to iudge of the perfections, remaining in ſo excellent a
creature as ſhe is, then I doe: aſſure thy ſelfe, and beleeue it conſtantly,
that ſhe ſhall come to my bed, not as my wife, but onely
thine. And therefore leaue theſe deſpairing thoughts, ſhake off
this cloudy diſpoſition, reaſſume thy former Iouiall ſpirit, with
comfort and what elſe can content thee: in expectation of the happy
houre, and the iuſt requitall of thy long, louing, and worthy
friendſhip, which I haue alwayes valued equall with mine owne
life.
Titus hearing this anſwer of Giſippus, looke how much the ſweet
hope of that which he deſired gaue him pleaſure, as much both duty
and reaſon affronted him with ſhame; ſetting before his eyes
this du conſideration, that the greater the liberality of Giſippus was,
farre greater and vnreaſonable it appeared to him in diſgrace, if hee
ſhould vnmannerly accept it. Wherefore, being vnable to refrain
from teares, and with ſuch ſtrength as his weakneſſe would giue
leaue, thus he replyed.
Giſippus, thy bounty and firme friendſhip ſuffereth me to ſee apparantly,
what (on my part) is no more then ought to be done. All
the Gods forbid, that I ſhould receiue as mine, her whom they haue
adiudged to be thine, by true reſpect of birth and deſert. For if they
had thought her a wife fit for me, doe not thou or any elſe imagine,
that euer ſhe ſhould haue beene granted to thee. Vſe freely therefore
thine owne election, and the gracious fauour wherewith they
haue bleſſed thee: leaue me to conſume away in teares, a mourning
garment by them appointed for me, as being a man vnworthy of
ſuch happineſſe; for either I ſhall conquer this diſaſter, and that wil
be my crowne, or elſe will vanquiſh me, and free me from all paine:
whereto Giſippus preſently thus anſwered.
Worthy Titus, if our amity would giue me ſo much licence, as
but to contend with my ſelfe, in pleaſing thee with ſuch a thing as I
deſire, and could alſo induce thee therein to be directed: it is the
onely end whereat I aime, and am reſolued to purſue it. In which
regard, let my perſwaſions preuaile with thee, and thereto I coniure
thee, by the faith of a friend, ſuffer me to vſe mine authority, when
it extendeth both to mine owne honour, and thy good, for I will
haue Sophronia to bee onely thine. I know ſufficiently, how
farre the forces of loue doe extend in power, and am not ignorant
alſo, how not once or twice, but very many times, they haue
brought louers to vnfortunate ends, as now I ſee thee very neere it,
and ſo farre gone, as thou art not able to turne backe againe, nor yet
to conquer thine owne teares, but proceeding on further in this extremity,
thou wilt be left vanquiſhed, ſinking vnder the burthen of
loues tyrannicall oppreſſion, and then my turne is next to follow
thee. And therefore, had I no other reaſon to loue thee, yet becauſe
thy life is deare to me, in regard of mine owne depending
thereon; I ſtand the neerer thereto obliged. For this cauſe, Sophronia
muſt and ſhal be thine, for thou canſt not find any other ſo conforme
to thy fancy: albeit I who can eaſily conuert my liking to another
wife, but neuer to haue the like friend againe, ſhall hereby
content both thee, and my ſelfe.
Yet perhaps this is not a matter ſo eaſily done, or I to expreſſe
ſuch liberality therein, if wiues were to be found with the like difficultie,
as true and faithfull friends are: but, (being able to recouer
another wife) though neuer ſuch a worthy friend; I rather chuſe to
change, I doe not ſay looſe her (for in giuing her to thee, I looſe her
not my ſelfe) and by this change, make that which was good before,
tenne times better, and ſo preſerue both thee and my ſelfe. To this
end therefore, if my prayers and perſwaſions haue any power with
thee, I earneſtly entreat thee, that, by freeing thy ſelfe out of this affliction,
thou wilt (in one inſtant) make vs both truely comforted,
and diſpoſe thy ſelfe (liuing in hope) to embrace that happineſſe,
which the feruent loue thou beareſt to Sophronia, hath iuſtly deſerued.
Now although Titus was confounded with ſhame, to yeeld conſent,
that Sophronia ſhould be accepted as his wife, and vſed many
obſtinate reſiſtances: yet notwithſtanding, Loue pleading on the
one ſide powerfully, and Giſippus as earneſtly perſwading on the other,
thus he anſwered. Giſippus, I know not what to ſay, neither
how to behaue my ſelfe in this election, concerning the fitting of
mine contentment, or pleaſing thee in thy importunate perſwaſion.
But ſeeing thy liberality is ſo great, as it ſurmounteth all reaſon or
ſhame in me, I will yeeld obedience to thy more then noble nature.
Yet let this remaine for thine aſſurance, that I doe not receiue this
grace of thine, as a man not ſufficiently vnderſtanding, how I enioy
from thee, not onely her whom moſt of all I doe affect, but alſo doe
hold my very life of thee. Grant then you greateſt Gods (if you
be the Patrones of this mine vnexpected felicitie) that with honor
and due reſpect, I may hereafter make apparantly knowne: how
highly I acknowledge this thy wonderfull fauour, in being more
mercifull to me, then I could be to my ſelfe.
For abridging of all further circumſtances, anſwered Giſippus,
and for eaſier bringing this matter to full effect, I hold this to be
our onely way. It is not vnknowne to thee, how after much diſcourſe
had between my kindred, and thoſe belonging to Sophronia,
the matrimoniall coniunction was fully agreed on, and therefore,
if now I ſhall flye off, and ſay, I will not accept thee as my wife:
great ſcandall would ariſe thereby, and make much trouble among
our friends, which could not be greatly diſpleaſing to me, if that
were the way to make her thine. But I rather ſtand in feare, that if
I forſake her in ſuch peremptory ſort, her kinred and friends will
beſtow her on ſome other, and ſo ſhe is vtterly loſt, without all poſſible
meanes of recouery. For preuention therefore of all ſiniſter
accidents, I thinke it beſt, (if thy opinion iumpe with mine) that I
ſtill purſue the buſines, as already I haue begun, hauing thee alwaies
in my company, as my deareſt friend and onely aſſociate. The nuptials
being performed with our friends, in ſecret manner at night (as
we can cunningly enough contriue it) thou ſhalt haue her maiden
honour in bed, euen as if ſhe were thine owne wife. Afterward,
in apt time and place, we will publiquely make knowne what
is done; if they take it well, we will be as iocond as they: if they
frowne and waxe offended, the deed is done, ouer-late to be recalled,
and ſo perforce they muſt reſt contented.
You may well imagine, this aduiſe was not a little pleaſing to
Titus, wherupon Giſippus receiued home Sophronia into his houſe,
with publike intention to make her his wife, according as was the
cuſtome then obſerued, and Titus being perfectly recouered, was
preſent at the Feaſt very ceremonially obſerued. When night was
come, the Ladies and Gentlewomen conducted Sophronia to the
Bride-Chamber, where they leſt her in her Husbands bed, and then
departed all away. The Chamber wherein Titus vſed to lodge, ioyned
cloſe to that of Giſippus, for their eaſier acceſſe each to the other,
at all times whenſoeuer they pleaſed, and Giſippus being alone
in the Bride-Chamber, preparing as if he were comming to bed:
extinguiſhing the light, he went ſoftly to Titus, willing him to goe
to bed to his wife. Which Titus hearing, ouercome with ſhame
and feare, became repentant, and denyed to goe. But Giſippus, being
a true intyre friend indeed, and confirming his words with actions:
after a little lingring diſpute, ſent him to the Bride, and ſo ſoone as
he was in the bed with her, taking Sophronia gently by the hand,
ſoftly he moued the vſuall queſtion to her, namely, if ſhe were willing
to be his wife.
She beleeuing verily that he was Giſippus, modeſtly anſwered.
Sir, I haue choſen you to be my Husband, reaſon requires then, that
I ſhould be willing to be your wife. At which words, a coſtly
Ring, which Giſippus vſed daily to weare, he put vpon her finger,
ſaying. With this Ring, I confeſſe my ſelfe to be your Husband,
and bind you (for euer) my Spouſe and Wife; no other kind of
marriage was obſerued in thoſe dayes, and ſo he continued all the
night with her, ſhe neuer ſuſpecting him to be any other then Giſippus,
and thus was the marriage conſumated, betweene Titus and Sophronia,
albeit the friends (on either ſide) thought otherwiſe.
By this time, Publius, the father of Titus, was departed out of this
mortall life, & letters came to Athens, that with all ſpeed he ſhould
returne to Rome, to take order for occaſions there concerning him;
wherefore he concluded with Giſippus about his departure, and taking
Sophronia thither with him, which was no eaſie matter to be
done, vntil it were firſt known, how occaſions had bin caried among
them. Wherupon, calling her one day into her Chamber, they told
her entirely, how all had paſt, which Titus confirmed ſubſtantially,
by ſuch direct paſſages betweene themſelues, as exceeded all poſſibility
of denyall, and moued in her much admiration; looking each
on other very diſcontentedly, ſhe heauily weeping and lamenting,
& greatly complaining of Giſippus, for wronging her ſo vnkindly.
But before any further noyſe was made in the houſe, ſhee went
to her Father, to whom, as alſo to her Mother, ſhee declared the
whole trecherie, how much both they and their other friends were
wronged by Giſippus, auouching her ſelfe to be the wife of Titus,
and not of Giſippus, as they ſuppoſed. Theſe newes were highly
diſpleaſing to the Father of Sophronia, who with hir kinred, as alſo
thoſe of Giſippus, made great complaints to the Senate, very dangerous
troubles and commotions ariſing daily betweene them, drawing
both Giſippus and Sophronia into harſh reports; he being generally
reputed, not onely worthy of all bitter reproofe, but alſo the
ſeuereſt puniſhment. Neuertheleſſe, hee maintained publikely
what he had done, auouching it for an act both of honour and honeſtie,
wherewith Sophronia's friends had no reaſon to bee offended,
but rather to take it in very thankfull part, hauing married a
man of farre greater worth and reſpect, than himſelfe was, or
could be.
On the other ſide, Titus hearing theſe vnciuill acclamations, became
much moued and prouoked at them, but knowing it was a cuſtome
obſerued among the Greekes, to be ſo much the more hurried
away with rumours and threatnings, as leſſe they finde them to be
anſwered, and when they finde them, ſhew themſelues not onely
humble enough, but rather as baſe men, and of no courage; he reſolued
with himſelfe, that their braueries were no longer to be endured,
without ſome ſome bold and manly anſwere. And hauing a
Romane heart, as alſo an Athenian vnderſtanding, by politique
perſwaſions, he cauſed the kinred of Giſippus and Sophronia, to be aſſembled
in a Temple, and himſelfe comming thither, accompanied
with none but Giſippus onely, he began to deliuer his minde before
them all, in this manner following.
The Oration vttered by Titus Quintus Fuluius, in the hearing of the Athenians, being the kinred and friends to Giſippus and Sophronia.
MAny Philoſophers doe hold opinion, that the actions performed
by mortall men, doe proceed from the diſpoſing and ordination
of the immortall gods. Whereupon ſome doe maintaine, that
things which be done, or neuer are to be done, proceed of neceſsity: howbeit
ſome other doe hold, that this neceſsity is onely referred to things
done. Both which opinions (if they be conſidered with mature iudgment)
doe moſt manifeſtly approue, that they who reprehend any thing which is
irreuocable, doe nothing elſe but ſhew themſelues, as if they were wiſer
then the Gods, who we are to beleeue, that with perpetuall reaſon, and
void of any error, doe diſpoſe and gouerne both vs, and all our actions;
In which reſpect, how fooliſh and beaſt-like a thing it is, preſumptuouſly
to checke or controule their operations, you may very eaſily conſider; and
likewiſe, how iuſtly they deſerue condigne puniſhment, who ſuffer themſelues
to be tranſported in ſo temerarious a manner.
In which notorious tranſgreſsion, I vnderstand you all to be guiltie, if
common fame ſpeake truely, concerning the marriage of my ſelfe and Sophronia,
whom you imagined as giuen to Giſippus; for you neuer remember
that it was ſo ordained from eternitie, ſhee to be mine, and no
Wife for Giſippus, as at this instant is made manifest by full effect.
But becauſe the kinde of ſpeaking, concerning diuine prouidence, and
intention of the Gods, may ſeeme a difficult matter to many, and ſomewhat
hard to bee vnderstood: I am content to preſuppoſe, that they
meddle not with any thing of ours, and will onely ſtay my ſelfe on humane
reaſons, and in this nature of ſpeech, I ſhall be enforced to doe
two things, quite contrary to my naturall diſpoſition. The one is, to
ſpeake ſomewhat in praiſe and commendation of my ſelfe: And the other,
iuſtly to blame and condemne other mens ſeeming eſtimation. But
becauſe both in the one and the other, I doe not intend to ſwerue a
iot from the Truth, and the neceſsitie of the preſent caſe in question,
doth not onely require, but alſo command it, you muſt pardon what I
am to ſay.
Your complaints doe proceed, rather from furie then reaſon, and (with
continuall murmurings, or rather ſeditious) ſlander, backe-bite and
condemne Giſippus, becauſe (of his owne free will and noble diſpoſition)
hee gaue her to be my Wife, whom (by your election) was made
his; wherein I account him moſt highly praiſe-worthy: and the reaſons
inducing mee thereunto, are theſe. The firſt, becauſe he hath performed
no more then what a friend ought to doe: And the ſecond, in regard he
hath dealt more wiſely, then you did. I haue no intention, to diſplay (at
this preſent) what the ſacred law of amitie requireth, to be acted by one
friend towards another, it ſhall ſuffice mee onely to informe you, that
the league of friendſhip (farre ſtronger then the bond of bloud and kinred)
confirmed vs in our election of either at the first, to be true, loyall
and perpetuall friends; whereas that of kinred, commeth onely by fortune
or chance. And therefore if Giſippus affected more my life, then
your beneuolence, I being ordained for his friend, as I confeſſe my ſelfe
to be; none of you ought to wonder thereat, in regard it is no matter of
meruaile.
But let vs come now to our ſecond reaſon, wherein, with farre greater
inſtance I will ſhew you, that he hath (in this occaſion) ſhewen himſelfe to
be much more wiſe, then you did, or haue done: becauſe it plainely appeareth,
that you haue no feeling of the diuine prouidence, and much leſſe
knowledge in the effects of friendſhip. I ſay, that your foreſight, councell
and deliberation, gaue Sophronia to Giſippus, a yong Gentleman, and
a Philoſopher: Giſippus likewiſe hath giuen her to a yong Gentleman,
and a Philoſopher, as himſelfe is. Your diſcretion gaue her to an Athenian;
the gift of Giſippus, is to a Romaine. Yours, to a Noble and honeſt
man; that of Giſippus, to one more Noble by race, and no leſſe
honest then himſelfe. Your iudgement hath beſtowed her on a rich young
man: Giſippus hath giuen her to one farre richer. Your wiſedome
gaue her to one who not onely loued her not, but alſo one that had no
deſire to know her: Giſippus gaue her vnto him, who, aboue all felicitie
elſe, yea, more than his owne life, both entirely loued and deſired
her.
Now, for proofe of that which I haue ſaid, to be moſt true and infallible,
and that his deede deſerueth to bee much more commended then
yours, let it bee duely conſidered on, point by point. That I am a young
man and a Philoſopher, as Giſippus is; my yeares, face, and ſtudies,
without ſeeking after further proofe, doth ſufficiently teſtifie: One
ſelfe-ſame age is both his and mine, in like quality of courſe haue wee
liued and studied together. True it is, that hee is an Athenian, and
I am a Romaine. But if the glory of theſe two Cities ſhould bee diſputed
on: then let mee tell you, that I am of a Citie that is Francke and
Free, and hee is of a Tributarie Citie. I ſay, that I am of a Citie,
which is chiefe Lady and Miſtreſſe of the whole World, and hee is of a
Citie ſubiect to mine. I ſay that I am of a Citie, that is strong in Arms,
Empire, and ſtudies: whereas his can commend it ſelfe but for Studies
onely. And although you ſeeme heere to bee a Scholler, in appearance
meane enough, yet I am not deſcended of the ſimplest stocke in
Rome.
My houſes and publique places, are filled with the ancient Statues of
my Predeceſſors, and the Annales recorde the infinite triumphs of the
Quintij, brought home by them into the Romane Capitole, and yeares
cannot eate out the glory of our name, but it will liue and flouriſh to all
poſteritie.
Modeſt ſhame makes me ſilent in my wealth and poſſeſsions, my minde
truely telling mee, that honeſt contented pouertie, is the moſt ancient and
richest inheritance, of our best and Nobleſt Romanes, which opinion,
if it bee condemned by the vnderſtanding of the ignorant multitude,
and heerein wee ſhall giue way to them by preferring riches and worldly
treaſures, then I can ſay that I am aboundantly prouided, not as ambitious,
or greedily couetous, but ſufficiently ſtored with the goods of
Fortune.
I know well enough, that you held it as a deſired benefit, Giſippus
being a Natiue of your Citie; ſhould alſo be linked to you by alliance:
but I know no reaſon, why I ſhould not be as neere and deere to you at
Rome, as if I liued with you heere. Conſidering, when I am there, you
haue a ready and well wiſhing friend, to ſtead you in all beneficiall and
ſeruiceable offices, as carefull and prouident for your ſupport, yea, a
protectour of you and your affaires, as well publique as particular.
Who is it then, not tranſported with partiall affection, that can (in
reaſon) more approue your act, then that which my friend Giſippus
hath done? Queſtionleſſe, not any one, as I thinke. Sophronia is
married to Titus Quintus Fuluius, a Noble Gentleman by antiquitie,
a rich Citizen of Rome, and (which is aboue all) the friend of Giſippus:
therfore, ſuch a one as thinkes it ſtrange, is ſorrie for it, or would
not haue it to be; knoweth not what he doth.
Perhaps there may be ſome, who will ſay, they doe not ſo much complain,
that Sophronia is the wife to Titus; but of the manner whereby
it was done, as being made his wife ſecretly, and by theft, not any of
her parents, kinred or friends called thereto: no, nor ſo much as aduertiſed
thereof Why Gentlemen, this is no miraculous thing, but
heeretofore hath oftentimes happened, and therefore no noueltie.
I cannot count vnto you, how many there haue beene, who (againſt
the will of their Fathers) haue made choice of their husbands; nor
them that haue fled away with their louers into ſtrange Countries, being
firſt friends, before they were wiues: nor of them who haue ſooner
made teſtimonie of marriage by their bellies, then thoſe ceremonies
due to matrimonie, or publication thereof by the tongue; ſo that meere
neceſsity & conſtraint, hath forced the parents to yeeld conſent: which
hath not ſo happened to Sophronia, for ſhew was giuen to me by Giſippus
diſcreetly, honeſtly, and orderly.
Others alſo may ſay, that ſhee is married to him, to whom it belonged
no to marrie her. Theſe complaints are fooliſh, and womaniſh,
proceeding from verie little, or no conſideration at all. In theſe daies
of ours, Fortune makes no vſe of nouell or inconſiderate meanes, whereby
to bring matters to their determined effect. Why ſhould it offend
me, if a Cobler, rather than a Scholler, hath ended a buſineſſe of mine,
either in priuate or publique, if the end be well made? Well I may take
order, if the Cobler bee indiſcreet, that hee meddle no more with any
matters of mine, yet I ought, in courteſie, to thanke him for that which
hee did.
In like mauner, if Giſippus hath married Sophronia well, it is
fooliſh and ſuperfluous, to finde fault with the manner hee vſed in her
marriage. If you miſlike his courſe in the caſe, beware of him hereafter,
yet thanke him becauſe it is no worſe.
Neuertheleſſe, you are to vnderſtand, that I ſought not by fraud or
deceit, (but onely by witte) any opportunitie, whereby any way to ſullie
the honeſtie and cleere Nobilitie of your bloud, in the perſon of Sophronia:
for although in ſecret I made her my wife, yet I came not as an enemie,
to take her perforce, nor (like a rauiſher) wronged her virginitie, to
blemiſh your noble titles, or deſpiſing your alliance. But feruently, enflamed
by her bright beauty, and incited alſo by her vnparalleld vertues,
I ſhaped my courſe; knowing well enough, that if I tooke the ordinarie
way of wiuing, by mouing the queſtion to you, I ſhould neuer winne your
conſent, as fearing, leſt I would take her with me to Rome, and ſo conneigh
out of your ſight, a Iewell by you ſo much esteemed, as ſhe is.
For this, and no other reaſon, did I preſume to vſe the ſecret cunning
which now is openly made knowne vnto you: and Giſippus diſpoſed
himſelfe thereunto, vvhich otherwiſe hee neuer determined to haue
done, in contracting the marriage for mee, and ſhee conſenting to me
in his name.
Moreouer, albeit moſt earneſtly I affected her, I ſought to procure
your vnion, not like a louer, but as a true husband, nor would I immodestly
touch her, till firſt (as her ſelfe can teſtifie) with the words becomming
wedlocke, and the Ring alſo I eſpouſed her, demanding of her,
if ſhee would accept mee as her husband, and ſhee anſwered mee, with
her full conſent. Wherein, if it may ſeeme that ſhee was deceiued, I am
not any way to be blamed, but ſhe, for not demanding, what, and who
I was.
This then is the great euill, the great offence, and the great iniurie
committed by my friend Giſippus, and by mee as a Louer: that Sophronia
is ſecretly become the wife of Titus Quintus Fuluius. And for this
cauſe, like ſpies you watch him, threaten him daily, as if you intended to
teare him in pieces. What could you doe more, if hee had giuen her to a
man of the very vilest condition? to a villaine, to a ſlaue? VVhat priſons?
what fetters? Or what torments are ſufficient for this fact? But
leauing theſe friuolous matters, let vs come to diſcourſe of more moment,
and better beſeeming your attention.
The time is come, that I may no longer continue heere, becauſe Publius
my Father is dead, and I muſt needs returne to Rome, wherefore being
minded to take Sophronia thither with mee, I was the more willing
to acquaint you therewith, as alſo what elſe I haue ſaid, which otherwiſe
had still beene concealed from you. Nor can you but take it in good part,
if you be wiſe, and reſt well contented with what is done: conſidering, if
I had any intention eyther to deceiue, or otherwiſe wrong you; I could
haue baſely left her, and made a ſcorne both of her and you, you not hauing
any power to stay mee heere. But the Gods will neuer permitte that
any couragious Romane, ſhould euer conceiue ſo vile and degenerate a
thought.
Sophronia, by ordination of the Gods, by force of humane Lawes, and
by the laudable conſent of my friend Giſippus, as alſo the powerfull
command of Loue is mine. But you perchance, imagining your ſelues to
be wiſer then the Gods, or any other men whatſoeuer; may thinke ill of
it, and more brutiſhly then beaſts, condemne their working in two kinds,
which would be offenſiue to mee. The one is, your detaining of Sophronia
from mee, of whom you haue no power, but what pleaſeth mee. The
other, is your bitter threatnings againſt Giſippus my deare friend, to
whom you are in duty obliged. In both which caſes, how vnreaſonablie
ſoeuer you carrie your ſelues, I intend not at this time to preſſe any further.
But rather let mee counſell you like a friend, to ceaſe your hatred
and diſdaine, and ſuffer Sophronia to be deliuered mee, that I may depart
contentedly from you as a kinſman, and (being abſent) remaine your
friend: aſſuring you, that whether what is done ſhall pleaſe or diſpleaſe
you, if you purpoſe to proceed any otherwiſe: I will take Giſippus along
with mee, and when I come to Rome, take ſuch ſure order, to fetch
her hence, who in Iuſtice is mine, euen in meere deſpight of you all, and
then you ſhall feele by ſound experience, how powerfull is the iuſt indignation
of the wronged Romanes.
WHen Titus had thus concluded his Oration, he aroſe with
a ſterne and diſcontented countenance, and tooke Giſippus
by the hand, plainly declaring, that he made ſmall account
of all the reſt that were in the Temple; and ſhaking his head
at them, rather menaced then any other wiſe ſeemed to care for
them.
They which tarried, when they were gone, conſidering partly
on the reaſons alleadged by Titus, and partly terrified by his lateſt
ſpeeches; became induced, to like well of his alliance and amitie, as
(with common conſent) they concluded: that it was much better
to accept Titus as their kinſman (ſeeing Giſippus had made manifeſt
refuſall thereof) than to loſe the kinred of the one, and procure
the hatred of the other. Wherefore they went to ſeeke Titus, and
ſaid vnto him, they were very well contented that Sophronia ſhould
bee his Wife, hee their deare and louing kinſman, and Giſippus
to remaine their much reſpected friend. And embracing one another,
making a ſolemne feaſt, ſuch as in the like caſes is neceſſarilie
required, they departed from him, preſently ſending Sophronia
to him, who making a vertue of neceſſity, conuerted her
loue (in ſhort time after) to Titus, in as effectuall manner, as
formerly ſhee had done to Giſippus, and ſo was ſent away with
him to Rome, where ſhe was receiued and welcommed with very
great honour.
Giſippus remaining ſtill at Athens, in ſmall regard of eyther theirs
or his owne friends: not long after by meanes of ſundry troubleſome
Citizens; and partialities happening among the common
people, was baniſhed from Athens, and hee, as alſo all his familie,
condemned to perpetuall exile: during which tempeſtuous time,
Giſippus was become not onely wretchedly poore, but wandred abroad
as a common begger; in which miſerable condition he trauelled
to Rome, to try if Titus would take any acknowledgement of
him. Vnderſtanding that he was liuing, and one moſt reſpected among
the Romanes, as being a great Commander and a Senator:
he enquired for the place where hee dwelt, and going to be neere
about his houſe, ſtayed there ſo long, till Titus came home, yet
not daring to manifeſt himſelfe, or ſpeake a word to him, in regard
of his poore and miſerable eſtate, but ſtroue to haue him ſee
him, to the end, that hee might acknowledge and call him by
his name; notwithſtanding, Titus paſſed by him without either
ſpeech, or looking on him. Which when Giſippus perceiued, and
making full account, that (at the leaſt) he would remember him, in
regard of former courteſies, done to him: confounded with griefe
and deſperate thoughts, hee departed thence, neuer meaning to ſee
him any more.
Now, in regard it was night, he hauing eaten nothing all that day,
nor prouided of one penny to buy him any food, wandred he knew
not whether, deſiring rather to die than liue; hee came at laſt to an
old ruinous part of the City, ouer-ſpred with briers and buſhes, and
ſeldome reſorted vnto by any: where finding a hollow Caue or
vault, he entred into it, meaning there to weare away the comfortleſſe
night, and laying himſelfe downe on the hard ground, almoſt
ſtarke naked, and without any warme garments, ouer-wearied with
weeping, at laſt he fell into a ſleepe.
It fortuned that two men, who had beene abroad the ſame night,
committing thefts and robberies together; ſomwhat very earlie in
the morning, came to the ſame Caue, intending there to ſhare and
diuide their booties, and difference happening betweene them
about it, hee that was the ſtronger perſon, ſlew there the other,
and then went away with the whole purchaſe.
Giſippus hauing heard and ſeene the manner of this accident, was
not a little ioyfull, becauſe he had now found a way to death, without
laying any violent hand on himſelfe; for life being very loathſome
to him, it was his only deſire to die. Wherfore, he would not
budge from the place, but taried there ſo long, till the Sergeants
and Officers of Iuſtice (by information of him that did the deede)
came thither well attended, and furiouſly ledde Giſippus thence to
priſon.
Being examined concerning this bloudy fact, he plainly confeſſed,
that hee himſelfe had committed the murder, and afterward
would not depart from the Caue, but purpoſely ſtayed for apprehenſion,
as being truely toucht with compunction for ſo foule an
offence: vpon which peremptorie confeſſion, Marcus Varro being
then Praetor, gaue ſentence that he ſhould be crucified on a Croſſe,
as it was the vſuall manner of death in thoſe dayes. Titus chancing
to come at the ſame time into Praetorium, aduiſedly beholding
the face of the condemned man (as hee ſate vpon the bench) knew
him to bee Gyſippus, not a little wondring at this ſtrange accident,
the pouertie of his eſtate, and what occaſion ſhould bring him thither,
eſpecially in the queſtioning for his life, and before the Tribunall
of Iuſtice.
His ſoule earneſtly thirſting, by all poſſible meanes to helpe and
defend him, and no other courſe could now be taken for ſafetie of
his life, but by accuſing himſelfe, to excuſe and cleare the other of
the crime: hee ſtept from off the iudgement bench, and crouding
through the throng to the Barre, called out to the Praetor in this
manner. Marcus Varro, recall thy ſentence giuen on the condemned
man ſent, away becauſe hee is truely guiltleſſe and innocent:
With one bloudie blow haue I offended the Gods, by killing that
wretched man, whom the Serieants found this morning ſlaine,
wherefore Noble Praetor, let no innocent mans bloud be ſhed for
it, but onely mine that haue offended.
Marcus Varro ſtood like a man confounded with admiration, being
very ſorrie, for that which the whole aſſiſtants had both ſeene
and heard, yet hee could not (with honour) deſiſt from what muſt
needs be done, but would performe the Lawes ſeuere iniunction.
And ſending for condemned
•
iſippus backe againe, in the preſence
of Titus, thus he ſpake to him. How becameſt thou ſo madly incenſed,
as (without any torment inflicted on thee) to confeſſe an offence
by thee neuer committed? Art thou wearie of thy life? Thou
chargeſt thy ſelfe falſly, to be the perſon who this laſt night murdered
the man in the Caue, and there is another that voluntarily alſo
doth confeſſe his guiltineſſe.
Giſippus lifting vp his eyes, and perceiuing it was Titus, conceiued
immediately, that he had done this onely for his deliuerance,
as one that remembred him ſufficiently, and would not be vngratefull
for former kindneſſes receiued. Wherefore, the teares flowing
abundantly down his cheekes, he ſaid to the Iudge Varro, it was
none but I that murdered the man, wherefore, I commiſerate the
caſe of this Noble Gentleman Titus, who ſpeakes now too late for
the ſafety of my life. Titus on the other ſide, ſaid. Noble Praetor,
this man (as thou ſeeſt) is a ſtranger heere, and was found without
any weapon, faſt aſleepe by the dead body: thou mayſt then eaſily
perceiue, that meerely the miſerable condition wherein he is, hath
made him deſperate, and he would make mine offence the occaſion
of his death. Abſolue him, and ſend me to the Croſſe, for none but
I haue deſerued to die for this fact.
Varro was amazed, to obſerue with what earneſt inſtance each of
them ſtroue to excuſe the other, which halfe perſwaded him in his
ſoule, that they were both guiltleſſe. And as he was ſtarting vp, with
full intent to acquaint them: a yong man, who had ſtood there all
this while, and obſerued the hard pleading on either ſide; he crowded
into the Barre, being named Publius Ambuſtus, a fellow of
lewd life, and vtterly out of hopes, as being debauched in all his fortunes,
and knowne among the Romaines to be a notorious theefe,
who verily had committed the murder. Well knew his conſcience,
that none of them were guilty of the crime, wherewith each ſo
wilfully charged himſelfe: being therefore truely toucht with remorſe,
he ſtept before Marcus Varro, ſaying.
Honourable Praetor, mine owne horrid and abominable actions,
haue induced me thus to intrude my ſelfe, for clearing the ſtrict
contention betweene theſe two perſons. And queſtionleſſe, ſome
God or greater power, hath tormented my wretched ſoule, and ſo
compunctually ſolicited me, as I cannot chuſe, but make open confeſſion
of my ſinne. Here therefore, I doe apparantly publiſh, that
neither of theſe men is guilty of the offence, wherewith ſo wilfully
each chargeth himſelfe. I am the villaine, who this morning murdered
the man in the Caue, one of no greater honeſty then my ſelfe,
and ſeeing this poore man lie there ſleeping, while we were diuiding
the ſtolne booties betweene vs; I ſlew my Companyon, becauſe
I would be the ſole poſſeſſor. As for Noble Lord Titus, he
had no reaſon thus to accuſe himſelfe, becauſe is a man of no ſuch
baſe quality: let them both then be deliuered, and inflict the ſentence
of death on me.
Octauius Caeſar, to whom tydings was brought of this rare accident,
commanding them al three to be brought before him; would
needs vnderſtand the whole Hiſtory, in euery particular as all had
happened, which was ſubſtantially related to him. Whereupon,
Octauius pleaſed them all three: the two noble friendes, becauſe
they were innocent, and the third, for openly reuealing the very
truth.
Titus tooke home with him his friend Giſippus, and after he had
ſharpely reproued him for his diſtruſt, and cold credence of his
friendſhip: he brought him to Sophronia, who welcomed him as
louingly, as if he had bin her naturall borne brother, bemoaning
his hard and diſaſtrous fortune, and taking eſpeciall care, to conuert
all paſſed diſtreſſes, into as happy and comfortable a change, fitting
him with garments and attendants, beſeeming his degree both in
Nobility and vertue▪
Titus, out of his honourable bounty, imparted
halfe his lands and rich poſſeſſions to him, and afterward gaue
him in marriage, his owne Siſter, a moſt beautifull Lady, named
Fuluia, ſaying to him beſide. My deare friend Giſippus, it remaineth
now in thine owne election, whether thou wilt liue liue here ſtill
with me, or returne backe to Athens, with all the wealth which I
haue beſtowed on thee. But Giſippus, being one way conſtrayned,
by the ſentence of baniſhment from his natiue City, & then againe,
in regard of the conſtant loue, which he bare to ſo true and thankefull
friend as Titus was: concluded to liue there as a loyall Roman,
where he with his Fuluia, and Titus with his faire Sophronia, liued
long after together in one and the ſame houſe, augmenting daily
(if poſſible it might be) their amity beyond all other equalizing.
A moſt ſacred thing therefore is cordiall amity, worthy not onely
of ſinguler reuerence, but alſo to be honoured with eternall
commendation, as being the onely wiſe Mother of all magnificence
and honeſty, the Siſter of Charity and Gratitude, the enemy
to hatred and auarice, and which is alwayes ready (without attending
to be requeſted) to extend all vertuous actions to others,
which ſhe would haue done to her ſelfe. Her rare and diuine
effects, in theſe contrary times of ours, are not to be found between
two ſuch perſons, which is a mighty fault, and greatly checketh the
miſerable couetouſneſſe of men, who reſpecting nothing but onely
their particular benefit; haue baniſhed true Amity, to the
vtmoſt confines of the whole earth, and ſent her into perpetuall
exile.
What loue, what wealth, or affinity of kindred, could haue made
Giſippus feele (euen in the intyreſt part of his ſoule) the feruent
compaſſion, the teares, the ſighes of Titus, and with ſuch efficacy as
plainely appeared: to make him conſent, that his faire elected
Spouſe, by him ſo dearely eſteemed, ſhould become the wife of
his Companion, but onely the precious league of Amity? What
Lawes, what threatnings, what feares, could cauſe the yong armes
of Giſippus to abſtaine embraces, betaking himſelfe to ſolitary
walkes, and obſcure places, when in his owne bedde, he might haue
enioyed ſo matchleſſe a beauty (who perhaps deſired it ſo much as
himſelfe) but onely the gracious title of Amity? What greatneſſe,
what merits or precedence, could cauſe Giſippus not to care, for the
loſſe of his kindred, thoſe of Sophronia, yea, of Sophronia her ſelfe,
not reſpecting the diſhoneſt murmurings of baſe minded people,
their vile and contemptible language, ſcornes and mockeries,
and all to content and ſatisfie a friend, but onely Diuine Amity?
Come now likewiſe to the other ſide. What occaſions could
compell Noble Titus, ſo promptly and deliberatly, to procure his
owne death, to reſcue his friend from the croſſe, and inflict the pain
and ſhame vpon himſelfe, pretending not ſee or know Giſippus at
all, had it not bin wrought by powerfull Amity? What cauſe elſe
could make Titus ſo liberall, in diuiding (with ſuch willingneſſe) the
larger part of his patrimony to Giſippus, when Fortune had diſpoſſeſt
him of his owne, but onely heauen-borne Amity? What elſe
could haue procured Titus, without any further dilation, feare or
ſuſpition, to giue his Siſter Fuluia in marriage to Giſippus, when he
ſaw him reduced to ſuch extreame pouerty, diſgrace and mi
•
ery,
but onely infinite Amity? To what end doe men care then, to couet
and procure great multitudes of kinred, ſtore of brethren, numbers
of children, and to encreaſe (with their owne monyes) plenty
of ſeruants: when by the leaſt loſſe and dammage happening,
they forget all duty to Father, Brother, or Maſter? Amity and true
friendſhip is of a quite contrary nature, ſatisfying (in that ſacred
bond) the obligation due to all degrees, both of parentage, and all
alliences elſe.
Saladine, the great Soldan of Babylon, in the habite of a Merchant, was houourably receiued and welcommed, into the houſe of Signior Thorello d'Iſtria. Who trauelling to the Holy Land, prefixed a certaine time to his Wife, for his returne backe to her againe, wherein, if he failed, it was lawfull for her to take another Husband. By clouding himſelfe in the diſguiſe of a Faulkner, the Soldan tooke notice of him, and did him many great honours. Afterward, Thorello falling ſicke, by Magicall Art, he was conueighed in one night to Pauia, when his Wife was to be married on the morrow: where making himſelfe knowne to her, all was diſappointed, and ſhee went home with him to his owne houſe.
The Ninth Nouell.
Declaring what an honourable vertue Courteſie is, in them that truely know how to vſe them.
MAdame Philomena hauing concluded her diſcourſe, and
the rare acknowledgement, which Titus made of his
eſteemed friend Giſippus, extolled iuſtly as it deſerued by
all the Company: the King, reſeruing the laſt office to Dioneus (as
it was at the firſt granted him) began to ſpeake thus. Without all
queſtion to the contrary (worthy Ladies) nothing can be more truely
ſaid, then what Madame Philomena, hath deliuered, concerning
Amity, and her complaint in the concluſion of her Nouell, is not
without great reaſon, to ſee it ſo ſlenderly reuerenced and reſpected
(now a dayes) among all men. But if we had met here in duty onely
for correcting the abuſes of iniquity, and the maleuolent courſes
of this prepoſterous age; I could proceed further in this iuſt cauſe
of cōplaint. But becauſe our end aimeth at matters of other nature,
it commeth to my memory to tel you of a Hiſtory, which (perhaps)
may ſeeme ſomewhat long, but altogether pleaſant, concerning a
magnificent act of great Saladine: to the end, that by obſeruing
thoſe things which you ſhall heare in my Nouell, if we cannot (by
reaſon of our manifold imperfections) intirely compaſſe the amity
of any one; yet (at leaſt) we may take delight, in ſtretching our kindneſſe
(in good deeds) ſo farre as we are able, in hope one day after,
ſome worthy reward will enſue thereon, as thereto iuſtly appertaining.
Let me tell you then, that (as it is affirmed by many) in the time
of the Emperour Frederick, firſt of that name, the Chriſtians, for
the better recouery of the holy land, reſolued to make a generall
voyage ouer the Seas. Which being vnderſtood by Saladine, a
very worthy Prince, and then Soldan of Babylon: he concluded
with himſelfe, that he would (in perſon) goe ſee, what preparation
the Chriſtian Potentates made for this Warre, that hee might the
better prouide for himſelfe. Hauing ſetled all things orderly in
Aegypt for the buſines, and making an outward appearance, as if he
purpoſed a pilgrimage to Mecha: he ſet onward on his iourney,
habited like a Merchant, attended onely with two of his moſt Noble
and wiſeſt Baſchaes, and three waiting ſeruants.
When he had viſited many Chriſtian Prouinces, and was riding
thorow Lombardie, to paſſe the mountaines; it fortuned, in his iourneying
from Millaine to Pauia, and the day being very farre ſpent,
ſo that night haſtened ſpeedily on him: he met with a Gentleman,
named Signior Thorella d'Iſtria, but dwelling at Pauia, who with
his men, Hawkes and Hounds, went to a houſe of his, ſeated in a
ſingular place, and on the Riuer of Ticinum. Signior Thorello ſeeing
ſuch men making towardes him, preſently imagined, that they
were ſome Gentle-ſtrangers, and ſuch hee deſired to reſpect with
honor.
Wherefore, Saladine demanding of one of Thorelloes men, how
farre (as then) it was to Pauia, and whether they might reach thither
by ſuch an houre, as would admit their entrance into the Citty:
Thorello would not ſuffer his ſeruant to returne the anſwer, but
replyed thus himſelfe. Sir (quoth he) you cannot reach Pauia, but
night will abridge you of any entraunce there. I beſeech you then
Sir, anſwered Saladine, fauour vs ſo much (becauſe we are all ſtrangers
in theſe parts) as to tell vs where we may be well lodged. That
ſhal I Sir, ſaid Thorello, and very gladly too.
Euen at the inſtant Sir, as we met with you, I had determined in
my mind, to ſend one of my ſeruants ſomewhat neere to Pauia, about
a buſineſſe concerning my ſelfe: he ſhall go along with you,
and conduct you to a place, where you will be very well entertayned.
So, ſtepping to him, who was of beſt diſcretion amongſt his
men, he gaue order to him what ſhould bee done, and ſent him
with them. Himſelfe, making haſt by a farre neerer way, cauſed
Supper to be prepared in worthy manner, and the Tables to be couered
in his Garden; and all things being in good readineſſe, he ſate
downe at his doore, to attend the comming of his gueſts. The Seruingman,
diſcourſing with the Gentlemen on diuers occaſions, guided
them by ſuch vnvſuall paſſages, as (before they could diſcerne
it) he brought them to his Maſters houſe; where ſo ſoone as Thorello
ſaw them arriued, he went forth to meet them, aſſuring them all of
moſt hearty welcome.
Saladine, who was a man of accute vnderſtanding, did well perceiue,
that this Knight Thorello miſdoubted his going with him, if
(when he met him) hee ſhould haue inuited him; and therefore, becauſe
he would not be denied, of entertaining him into his houſe;
he made choiſe of this kinde and honourable courſe, which cauſed
him to returne this anſwer. Gentle Sir, if courteſie in one man to
another, do deſerue condemning, then may we iuſtly complaine of
you, who meeting vs vpon the way, which you haue ſhortened by
your kindneſſe and which we are no way able to deſerue, wee are
conſtrained to accept, taking you to bee the mirrour of courteſie.
Thorello being a Knight of ingenious apprehenſion, and wel languaged,
replyed thus.
Gentlemen; this courteſie (ſeeing you terme it ſo) which you rereceiue
of me, in regard of that iuſtly belonging to you, as your faces
do ſufficiently informe mee, is matter of very ſlender account.
But aſſuredly out of Pauia, you could not haue any lodging, deſeruing
to be termed good. And therefore, let it not bee diſpleaſing
to you, if you haue a little gone forth of the common rode way, to
haue your entertainment ſomewhat bettered, as many trauaylers
are eaſily induced to do.
Hauing thus ſpoken, all the people of the houſe ſhewed themſelues, in ſeruiceable manner to the Gentlemen, taking their horſes
as they diſmounted, and Thorello himſelfe, conducted the three
Gentlemen, into three ſeuerall faire Chambers, which in coſtly maner
were prepared for them, where their boots were pluckt off, faire
Napkins with Manchets lay ready, and delicate Wines to refreſh
their wearied ſpirits, much prety conference being entercourſed, til
Supper time inuited them thence.
Saladine, and they that were with him, ſpake the Latine tongue
very readily, by which meanes they were the better vnderſtoode;
and Thorello ſeemed (in their iudgement) to bee the moſt gracious,
compleate, and beſt ſpoken Gentleman, as euer they met with in all
their iourney. It appeared alſo (on the other ſide) to Signiour Thorello,
that his gueſts were men of great merit, and worthy of much
more eſteeme, then there he could vſe towards them: wherefore, it
did highly diſtaſt him, that he had no more friends there this night
to keepe them company, or himſelfe better prouided for their entertainment,
which hee intended (on the morrow) to recompence
with larger amends at dinner.
Heereupon, hauing inſtructed one of his men with what hee intended,
he ſent him to Pauia, which was not farre off (and where he
kept no doore ſhut) to his Wife, named Madam Adialetta; a Woman
ſingularly wiſe, and of a Noble ſpirit, needing little or no direction,
eſpecially when ſhe knew her husbands minde. As they were
walking in the Garden, Thorello deſired to vnderſtand, of whence,
and what they were? Whereto Saladine thus anſwered. Sir, wee
are Cyprian Marchants, comming now from Cyprus, and are trauailing
to Paris, about affaires of importance. Now truſt me Syr, replyed
Thorello, I could heartily wiſh, that this Countrey of ours
would yeeld ſuch Gentlemen, as your Cyprus affordeth Marchants.
So, falling from one diſcourſe vnto another, Supper was ſerued in;
and looke howe beſt themſelues pleaſed, ſo they ſate at the Table,
where (we neede make no doubt) they were reſpected in honourable
order.
So ſoone as the Tables were withdrawne, Thorello knowing they
might be weary, brought them againe to their Chambers, where
committing them to their good reſt, himſelfe went to bed ſoone after.
The Seruant ſent to Pauia, deliuered the meſſage to his Lady;
who, not like a woman of ordinary diſpoſition, but rather truely
Royall, ſent Thorelloes ſeruants into the City, to make preparation
for a Feaſt indeed, and with lighted Torches (becauſe it was ſomewhat
late) they inuited the very greateſt and nobleſt perſons of the
Citie, all the roomes being hanged with the richeſt Ar
•
s, Clothes
of Golde worke, Veluets, Silkes, and all other rich adornments, in
ſuch manner as her husband had commanded, and anſwerable to
her owne worthy mind, being no way to learne, in what manner to
entertaine ſtrangers.
On the morrow morning, the Gentlemen aroſe, and mounting
on horſebacke with Signior Thorello, he called for his Hawkes and
Hounds, brought them to the Riuer, where he ſhewed two or three
faire flights: but Saladine deſiring to know, which was the fayreſt
Hoſtery in all Pauia, Thorello anſwered. Gentlemen, I wil ſhew you
that my ſelfe, in regard I haue occaſion to ride thither. Which they
beleeuing, were the better contented, and rode on directly vnto Pauia,
arriuing there about nine of the clocke, and thinking he guided
them to the beſt Inne, he brought them to his owne houſe; where,
aboue fifty of the worthieſt Citizens, ſtood ready to welcome the
Gentlemen, imbracing them as they lighted from their Horſſes.
Which Saladine, and his aſſociates perceiuing, they gueſſed as it
was indeede, and Saladine ſayd. Beleeue me worthy Thorello, this
is not anſwerable to my demand; you did too much yeſter-night,
and much more then we could deſire or deſerue: Wherefore, you
might wel be the ſooner diſcharged of vs, and let vs trauaile on our
iourney.
Noble Gentlemen, replyed Thorello (for in mine eye you ſeeme
no leſſe) that courteſie which you met with yeſter-night, I am to
thanke Fortune for, more then you, becauſe you were then ſtraited
by ſuch neceſſity, as vrged your acceptance of my poore Country
houſe. But now this morning, I ſhall account my ſelfe much beholding
to you (as the like will all theſe worthy Gentlemen here about
you) if you do but anſwer kindnes with kindnes, and not refuſe
to take a homely dinner with them.
Saladine and his friends, being conquerd with ſuch potent perſwaſions,
and already diſmounted from their horſes, ſaw that all
deniall was meerly in vaine: and therefore thankfully condiſcen
•
ing
(after ſome few ceremonious complements were ouer-paſt) the
Gentlemen conducted them to their Chambers, which were moſt
ſumptuouſly prepared for them, and hauing laid aſide their riding
garments, being a little refreſhed with Cakes and choice Wines;
they deſcended into the dining Hall, the pompe whereof I am not
able to report.
When they had waſhed, and were ſeated at the Tables, dinner
was ſerued in moſt magnificent ſort; ſo that if the Emperor himſelf
had bin there, he could not haue bin more ſumptuouſly ſerued. And
although Saladine and his Baſchaes were very Noble Lords, and
wonted to ſee matters of admiration: yet could they do no leſſe
now, but rather exceeded in maruaile, conſidering the qualitie of
the Knight, whom they knew to bee a Citizen, and no Prince or
great Lord. Dinner being ended, and diuers familiar conferences
paſſing amongſt them: becauſe it was exceeding hot, the Gentlemen
of Pauia (as it pleaſed, Thorello to appoint) went to repoſe
themſelues awhile, and he keeping company with his three gueſts,
brought them into a goodly Chamber, where, becauſe he would
not faile in the leaſt ſcruple of courteſie, or conceale from them the
richeſt Iewell which he had; he ſent for his Lady and wife, becauſe
(as yet) they had not ſeene her.
She was a Lady of extraordinary beauty, tall ſtature, very ſumptuouſly
attired, and hauing two ſweet Sonnes (reſembling Angels)
ſhe came with them waiting before her, and graciouſly ſaluted her
gueſts. At her comming, they aroſe, and hauing receiued hir with
great reuerence, they ſeated her in the midſt, kindly cheriſhing the
two Children. After ſome gracious Language paſt on eyther ſide,
ſhe demanded of whence, and what they were, which they anſwered
in the ſame kind as they had done before to her husband. Afterward,
with a modeſt ſmiling countenance, ſhe ſayd. Worthy
Gentlemen, let not my weake Womaniſh diſcretion appeare diſtaſtable,
in deſiring to craue one eſpeciall fauour from you, namely,
not to refuſe or diſdaine a ſmall gift, wherewith I purpoſe to preſent
you. But conſidering firſt, that women (according to their ſimple
faculty) are able to beſtow but ſilly gifts: ſo you would be pleaſed,
to reſpect more the perſon that is the giuer, then the quality or
quantity of the gift.
Then cauſing to be brought (for each of them) two goodly gowns
or Robes (made after the Perſian manner) the one lyned thorough
with cloth of Gold, and the other with the coſtlyeſt Fur; not after
ſuch faſhion as Citizens or Marchants vſe to weare, but rather beſeeming
Lords of greateſt account, and three light vnder-wearing
Caſſocks or Mandillions, of Carnatian Sattin, richly Imbroidred
with Gold and Pearles, and lined thorow with White Taffata, preſenting
theſe gifts to him, ſhe ſayd. I deſire you Gentlemen to receiue
theſe meane trifles, ſuch as you ſee my Husband weares the
like, and theſe other beſide, conſidering you are ſo far from your
Wiues, hauing trauailed a long way already, and many miles more
yet to ouertake; alſo Marchants (being excellent men) affect to be
comely and handſome in their habits; although theſe are of ſlender
value, yet (in neceſſity) they may do you ſeruice.
Now was Saladine and his Baſchaes halfe aſtonyed with admiration,
at the magnificent minde of Signiour Thorello, who would
not forget the leaſt part of courteſie towardes them, and greatly
doubted (ſeeing the beauty and riches of the Garments) leaſt they
were diſcouered by Thorello. Neuertheleſſe, one of them thus anſwered
the Lady. Beleeue me Madame, theſe are rich guiftes, not
lightly either to be giuen, or receyued: but in regard of your ſtrict
impoſition, we are not able to deny them. This being done, with
moſt gracious and courteous demeanour, ſhe departed from them,
leauing her Husband to keepe them ſtill companie; who furniſhed
their ſeruants alſo, with diuers worthy neceſſaries fitting for their
iourney.
Afterward, Thorello (by very much importunitie) wonne them
to ſtay with him all the reſt of the day; wherefore, when they had
reſted themſelues awhile, being attyred in their newly giuen robes;
they rode on Horſebacke thorow the Citty. When ſupper time
came, they ſupt in moſt honourable and worthy company beeing
afterwards Lodged in moſt faire and ſumptuous Chambers, and
being riſen in the morning, in exchange of their ho
•
ſes (ouer-wearied
with Trauaile) they found three other very richly furniſhed, and
their men alſo in like manner prouided. Which when Saladine
had perceyued, he tooke his Baſchaes aſide, and ſpake in this manner.
By our greateſt Gods, I neuer met with any man, more compleat
in all noble perfections, more courteous and kinde then Thorello is.
If all the Chriſtian Kings, in the true and heroicall nature of Kings,
do deale as honourably as I ſee this Knight doeth, the Soldane of
Babylon is not able to endure the comming of one of them, much
leſſe ſo many, as wee ſee preparing to make head againſt vs. But
beholding, that both refuſall and acceptation, was all one in the
minde of Thorello: after much kinde Language had bin intercourſed
betweene them, Saladine (with his Attendants) mounted on
horſebacke.
Signiour Thorello, with a number of his honourable Friends (to
the number of an hundred Horſſe) accompanied them a great diſtance
from the Citie, and although it greeued Saladine exceedingly,
to leaue the company of Thorello, ſo dearely he was affected to
him: but neceſſity (which controlleth the power of all lawes whatſoeuer)
muſt needs diuide them: yet requeſting his returne agayne
that way, if poſſibly it might be granted; which Saladine promiſed
but did not performe. Well Gentlemen (quoth Thorello at parting)
I know not what you are, neither (againſt your will) do I deſire it:
but whether you be Marchants or no, remember me in your kindneſſe,
and ſo to the heauenly powers I commend you. Saladine, hauing
taken his leaue of all them that were with Thorello, returned
him this anſwer. Sir, it may one day hereafter ſo happen, as we ſhal
let you ſee ſome of our Marchandiſes, for the better confirmation
of your beleefe, and our profeſſion.
Thus parted Signior Thorello and his friends, from Saladine and
his company, who verily determined in the heighth of his minde,
if he ſhould be ſpared with life, and the warre (which he expected)
concluded: to requite Thorello with no leſſe courteſie, then hee had
already declared to him; conferring a long while after with his
Baſchaes, both of him and his beauteous Lady, not forgetting any
of their courteous actions, but gracing them all with deſerued commendation.
But after they had (with very laborious paines) ſurueyed
moſt of the Weſterne parts, they all tooke Shipping, and returned
into Alexandria: ſufficiently informed, what preparation
was to be made for their owne defence. And Signior Thorello being
come backe againe to Pauia, conſulted with his priuat thoughts
(many times after) what theſe three trauailers ſhould be, but came
farre ſhort of knowing the truth, till (by experience) hee became
better informed.
When the time was come, that the Chriſtians were to make
their paſſage, and wonderfull great preparations, in all places performed:
Signiour Thorello, notwithſtanding the teares and intreaties
of his Wife, determined to be one in ſo woorthy and honourable
a voyage: and hauing made his prouiſion ready, nothing wanting
but mounting on Horſebacke, to go where he ſhould take ſhipping;
to his Wife (whom he moſt intirely affected) thus hee ſpake.
Madame, I goe as thou ſeeſt in this famous Voyage, as well for
mine Honour, as alſo the benefite of my ſoule; all our goodes and
poſſeſſions, I commit to thy vertuous care. And becauſe I am not
certaine of my returning backe againe, in regard of a thouſand accidents
which may happen, in ſuch a Countrey as I goe vnto: I deſire
onely but one fauour of thee, whatſoeuer daunger ſhall befall
mee; Namely, when any certaine tydings ſhall be brought mee of
my death; to ſtay no longer before thy ſecond marriage, but one
yeare, one month, and one day; to begin on this day of my departing
from thee.
The Lady, who wept exceedingly, thus anſwered. Alas Sir: I
know not how to carry my ſelfe, in ſuch extremity of greefe, as now
you leaue me; but if my life ſurmount the fortitude of ſorrow, and
whatſoeuer ſhall happen to you for certainty, either life or death:
I will liue and dye the Wife of Signiour Thorello, and make my obſequies
in his memory onely.
Not ſo Madame (replyed her Husband) not ſo; Be not ouerraſh
in promiſing any thing, albeit I am well aſſured, that ſo much as
conſiſteth in thy ſtrength, I make no queſtion of thy performance.
But conſider withall (deare heart) thou art a yong woman, beautifull,
of great parentage, and no way thereto inferior in the bleſſings
of Fortune.
Thy Vertues are many, and vniuerſally both divulged and knowen,
in which reſpect, I make no doubt; but diuers and ſundrie
great Lords and Gentlemen (if but the leaſt rumor of my death be
noyſed) will make ſuite for thee to thy parents and brethren, from
whoſe violent ſolicitings, wouldſt thou neuer ſo reſolutely make reſiſtance,
yet thou canſt not be able to defend thy ſelfe; but whether
thou wilt or no, thou muſt yeeld to pleaſe them; and this is the only
reaſon, why I would tie thee to this limited time, and not one day
or minute longer.
Adalietta, ſweetly hugging him in her armes, and melting her
ſelfe in kiſſes, ſighes, and teares on his face, ſaid. Well Sir, I will do
ſo much as I am able, in this your moſt kinde and louing impoſition:
and when I ſhall bee compelled to the contrary: yet reſt thus
conſtantly aſſured, that I will not breake this your charge, ſo much
as in thought. Praying euer heartily to the heauenly powers, that
they will direct your courſe home againe to me, before your prefixed
date, or elſe I ſhall liue in continual languiſhing. In the knitting
vp of this woful parting, embracing and kiſſing either infinit times,
the Lady tooke a Ring from off her finger, and giuing it to her huſband,
ſaid. If I chaunce to die before I ſee you againe, remember
me when you looke on this. He receiuing the Ring, and bidding all
the reſt of his Friends farewell, mounted on horſebacke, and rode
away wel attended.
Being come vnto Geneway, he and his company boorded a Galley,
and (in few dayes after) arriued at Acres, where they ioyned
themſelues with the Chriſtian Army, wherein there happened a
verie dangerous mortality: During which time of ſo ſharpe viſitation
(the cauſe vnknowne whence it proceeded) whether thorough
the induſtrie, or rather the good Fortune of Saladine, well-neere
all the reſt of the Chriſtians (which eſcaped death) were
ſurprized his priſoner (without a blow ſtrucken) and ſundred and
impriſoned in diuers Townes and Citties. Amongeſt the which
number of priſoners, it was Signior Thorelloes chaunce to be one,
and walked in bonds to Alexandria, where being vnknowne, and
fearing leaſt he ſhould be diſcouered: conſtrained thereto meerly
by neceſſity, hee ſhewed himſelfe in the condition of a Faulconer;
wherein he was very excellently experienced, and by which means
his profeſſion was made knowne to Saladine, hee deliuered out of
priſon, and created the Soldans Faulconer.
Thorello (whom the Soldane called by no other name, then the
Chriſtian, neyther of them knowing the other) ſadly now remembred
his departure from Pauia, deuiſing and practiſing many
times, how he might eſcape thence, but could not compaſſe it by any
poſſible meanes. Wherefore, certaine Ambaſſadours beeing
ſent by the Genewayes, to redeeme diuers Cittizens of theirs, there
detained as priſoners, and being ready to returne home againe: he
purpoſed to write to his Wife, that he was liuing, and wold repaire
to her ſo ſoone as he could, deſiring the ſtill continued rememberance
of her limited time. By cloſe and cunning meanes hee wrote
the Letter, earneſtly intreating one of the Ambaſſadors (who knew
him perfectly, but made no outward apparance thereof) to deale in
ſuch ſort for him, that the Letter might be deliuered to the handes
of the Abbot Di San Pietro ni Ciel d'Oro, who was (indeede) his
Vnckle.
While Thorello remayned in this his Faulconers condition, it
fortuned vppon a day, that Saladine, conuerſing with him about
his Hawkes: Thorello chanced to ſmile, and vſed ſuch a kinde of
geſture or motion with his Lippes, which Saladine (when he was in
his houſe at Pauia) had heedfully obſerued, and by this note, inſtantly
he remembred Signior Thorello, and began to eye him very
reſpectiuely, perſwading himſelfe that he was the ſame man. And
therefore falling from their former kinde of diſcourſing: Tell mee
Chriſtian (quoth Saladine) what Country-man art thou of the
Weſt? Sir, anſwered Signiour Thorello, I am by Country a Lombard,
borne in a Citty called Pauia, a poore man, and of as poore
condition.
So ſoone as Saladine had heard theſe Words; becomming aſſured
in that which (but now) he doubted, he ſaide within himſelfe.
Now the Gods haue giuen me time, wherein I may make knowne
to this man, how thankefully I accepted his kinde courteſie, and
cannot eaſily forget it. Then, without ſaying any thing elſe, cauſing
his Guard-robe to be ſet open, he tooke him with him thither,
and ſayde. Chriſtian, obſerue well all theſe Garments, and quicken
thy remembrance, in telling mee truly, whether thou haſt ſeene
any of them before now, or no. Signiour Thorello looked on them
all aduiſedly, and eſpyed thoſe two eſpeciall Garments, which his
wife had giuen one of the ſtrange Merchants; yet he durſt not credit
it, or that poſſibly it could be the ſame, neuertheleſſe he ſaid. Sir,
I doe not know any of them, but true it is, that theſe two doe reſemble
two ſuch Robes, as I was wont to weare my ſelfe, and theſe
(or the like) were giuen to three Merchants, that happened to viſite
my poore houſe.
Now could Saladine containe no longer, but embracing him
ioyfully in his armes, he ſaid. You are Signior Thorello d'Iſtria, and
I am one of thoſe three Merchants, to whom your Wife gaue theſe
Roabes: and now the time is come to giue you credible intelligence
of my Merchandiſe, as I promiſed at my departing from you, for
ſuch a time (I told you) would come at length. Thorello, was both
glad, and baſhfull together: glad, that he had entertained ſuch a
Gueſt, and baſhfully aſhamed, that his welcome had not exceeded
in more bountifull manner. Thorello, replyed Saladine, ſeeing the
Gods haue ſent you ſo happily to me: account your ſelfe to be ſoly
Lord here, for I am now no more then a priuate man.
I am not able to expreſſe their counterchanges of courteſie, Saladine
commanding him to be cloathed in Royall garments, and
brought into the preſence of his very greateſt Lords, where hauing
ſpoken liberally in his due commendation, he commanded them
to honour him as himſelfe, if they expected any grace or fauour
from him, which euery one did immediatly, but (aboue all the reſt)
thoſe two Baſchaes, which accompanied Saladine at his houſe. The
greatneſſe of this pompe and glory, ſo ſuddenly throwne on Signior
Thorello, made him halfe forget all matters of Lomberdie; and
ſo much the rather, becauſe he had no doubt at all, but that his letters,
were ſafely come to the hands of his Vncle.
Here I am to tell you, that in the Campe or Army of the Chriſtians,
on the day when Saladine made his ſurprizall, there was a
Prouinciall Gentleman dead and buried, who was Signior Thorello
de Dignes, a man of very honourable and great eſteeme, in which
reſpect (Signior Thorello d'Iſtria, knowne throughout the Army, by
his Nobility and valour) whoſoeuer heard that Signior Thorello
was dead: beleeued it to be Thorello d'Iſtria, and not he of Dignes,
ſo that Thorello d'Iſtriaes vnknowne ſurprizall and thraldome, made
it alſo to paſſe for an aſſured truth.
Beſide, many Italians returning home, and carrying this report
for credible; ſome were ſo audaciouſly preſumptuous, as they auouched
vpon their oathes, that not onely they ſaw him dead, but
were preſent at his buriall likewiſe. Which rumour comming to
the eare of his Wife, and likewiſe to his kinred and hers: procured
a great and grieuous mourning among them, and all that happened
to heare thereof.
Guer-tedious time it would require, to relate at large, the publique
griefe and ſorrow, with the continuall lamentations of his
Wife, who (within ſome few moneths after) became tormented
with new marriage ſolicitings, before ſhe had halfe ſighed for the
firſt: the very greateſt perſons of Lomberdie making the motion,
being daily followed and furthered by her owne brothers and
friends. Still (drowned in teares) ſhe returned denyall, till in the
end, when no contradiction could preuaile, to ſatisfie her parents,
and the importunate purſuers: ſhe was conſtrained to reueale, the
charge impoſed on her by her Husband, which ſhee had vowed infallibly
to keepe, and till that very time, ſhe would in no wiſe conſent.
While wooing for a ſecond wedding with Adalietta, proceeded
in this manner at Pauia, it chanced on a day, that Signior Thorello
had eſpied a man in Alexandria, whom he ſaw with the Geneway
Ambaſſadours, when they ſet thence towards Geneway with
their Gallies. And cauſing him to be ſent for, he demaunded of
him, the ſucceſſe of the voyage, and when the Gallies arriued at Geneway;
whereto he returned him this anſwere. My Lord, our Gallies
made a very fatall voyage, as it is (already) too well knowne in
Creete, where my dwelling is. For when we drew neere Sicilie,
there ſuddenly aroſe a very dangerous North-Weſt-winde, which
droue vs on the quicke-Sands of Barbarie, where not any man eſcaped
with life, onely my ſelfe excepted, but (in the wracke) two of
my brethren periſhed.
Signior Thorello, giuing credit to the mans words, becauſe they
were moſt true indeed, and remembring alſo, that the time limitted
to his Wife, drew neere expiring within very few dayes, and no
newes now poſſibly to be ſent thither of his life, his Wife would
queſtionleſſe be marryed againe: he fell into ſuch a deepe conceited
melancholly, as food and ſleepe forſooke him, whereupon, he
kept his bed, ſetting downe his peremptory reſolution for death.
When Saladine (who dearely loued him) heard thereof, he came in
all haſte to ſee him, and hauing (by many earneſt perſwaſions and
entreaties) vnderſtood the cauſe of his melancholly and ſickeneſſe:
he very ſeuerely reproued him, becauſe he could no ſooner acquaint
him therewith. Many kind and comfortable ſpeeches, he
gaue him, with conſtant aſſurance, that (if he were ſo minded) he
would ſo order the buſineſſe for him; as he ſhould be at Pauia, by
the ſame time as he had appointed to his Wife, and reuealed to him
alſo the manner how.
Thorello verily beleeued the Soldanes promiſe, becauſe he had
often heard the poſſibility of performance, and others had effected
as much, diuers times elſe-where: whereupon he began to comfort
himſelfe, ſoliciting the Soldan earneſtly that it might be accompliſhed.
Saladine ſent for one of his Sorcerers (of whoſe skill he had
formerly made experience) to take a direct courſe, how Signior
Thorello ſhould be carryed (in one night) to Pauia, and being in his
bed. The Magitian vndertooke to doe it, but, for the Gentlemans
more eaſe, he muſt firſt be poſſeſſed with an entraunced dead ſleep.
Saladine being thus aſſured of the deeds full effecting, he came againe
to Thorello, and finding him to be ſetled for Pauia (if poſſibly
it might be accompliſhed by the determined time, or elſe no other
expectation but death) he ſaid vnto him as followeth.
Signior Thorello, if with true affection you loue your Wife, and
miſdoubt her marriage to ſome other man: I proteſt vnto you, by
the ſupreme powers, that you deſerue no reprehenſion in any
manner whatſoeuer. For, of all the Ladyes that euer I haue ſeene,
ſhe is the onely woman, whoſe carriage, vertues, and ciuile ſpeaking
(ſetting aſide beauty, which is but a fading flowre) deſerueth moſt
graciouſly to be reſpected, much more to be affected in the higheſt
degree. It were to me no meane fauour of our Gods, (ſeeing Fortune
directed your courſe ſo happily hither) that for the ſhort or
long time we haue to liue, we might reigne equally together in
theſe Lingdomes vnder my ſubiection. But if ſuch grace may not
be granted me, yet, ſeeing it ſtands mainly vpon the perill of your
life, to be at Pauia againe by your own limitted time, it is my chiefeſt
comfort, that I am therewith acquainted, becauſe I intended to
haue you conueighed thither, yea, euen into your owne houſe, in
ſuch honourable order as your vertues doe iuſtly merit, which in
regard it cannot be ſo conueniently performed, but as I haue already
informed you, and as the neceſſity of the caſe vrgently commandeth;
accept it as it may be beſt accompliſhed,
Great Saladine (anſwered Thorella) effects (without words) haue
already ſufficiently warranted your Gracious diſpoſition towards
me, farre beyond any requitall remayning in me; your word onely
being enough for my comfort in this caſe, either dying or liuing.
But in regard you haue taken ſuch order for my departure hence,
I deſire to haue it done with all poſſible expedition, becauſe to morrow
is the very laſt day, that I am to be abſent. Saladine proteſted
that it ſhould be done, and the ſame euening in the great Hall of
his Pallace, commanded a rich and coſtly Bedde to be ſet vp, the
mattras formed after the Alexandrian manner, of Veluet and cloth
Gold, the Quilts, counter-points and couerings, ſumptuouſly imbroydered
with Orient Pearles and Precious Stones, ſuppoſed to
be of ineſtimable value, and two rarely wroug
•
▪ Pillowes, ſuch as
beſt beſeemed ſo ſtately a Bedde, the Curtaines and Vallans euery
way equall to the other pompe.
Which being done, he commanded that Thorello (who was indifferently
recouered) ſhould be attyred in one of his owne ſumptuous
Saracine Roabes, the very faireſt and richeſt that euer was
ſeene, and on his head a Maieſticall Turbant, after the manner of
his owne wearing, and the houre appearing to be ſomewhat late, he
with many of his beſt Baſchaes, went to the Chamber where Thorello
was, and ſitting downe a while by him, in teares thus he ſpake.
Signior Thorello, the houre for ſundering you and me, is now very
neere, and becauſe I cannot beare you company, in regard of the
buſineſſe you goe about, and which by no meanes will admit it:
I am to take my leaue of you in this Chamber, and therefore am
purpoſely come to doe it. But before I bid you farewell, let me
entreat you, by the loue and friendſhip confirmed betweene vs, to
be mindfull of me, and to take ſuch order (your affaires being fully
finiſhed in Lombardie) that I may once more enioy the ſight of you
here, for a mutuall ſolace and ſatisfaction of our mindes, which are
now diuided by this vrgent haſt. Till which may be granted, let
me want no viſitation of your kind letters, commanding thereby of
me, whatſoeuer here can poſſibly be done for you: aſſuring your
ſelfe, no man liuing can command me as you doe.
Signior Thorello could not forbeare weeping, but being much
hindred therby, anſwered in few words. That he could not poſſibly
forget, his Gracious fauours and extraordinary benefits vſed towards
him, but would accompliſh whatſoeuer hee commaunded,
according as heauen did enable him.
Hereupon, Saladine embracing him, and kiſſing his forehead,
ſaid. All my Gods goe with you, and guard you from any perill,
departing ſo out of the Chamber weeping, and his Baſchaes (hauing
likewiſe taken their leaue of Thorello) followed Saladine into
the Hall, whereas the Bedde ſtood readily prepared. Becauſe
it waxed very late, and the Magitian alſo there attending for his
diſpatch: the Phiſitian went with the potion to Thorello, and
perſwading him, in the way of friendſhip, that it was onely to
ſtrengthen him after his great weaknes: he drank it off, being thereby
immediately entraunced, and ſo preſently ſleeping, was (by
Saladines command) laid on the ſumptuous and coſtly Bed, whereon
ſtood an Imperiall Crowne of infinite value, appearing
(by a deſcription engrauen on it) that Saladine ſent it to Madame
Adalietta, the wife of Thorello. On his finger alſo hee put a Ring,
wherein was enchaſed an admirable Carbuncle, which ſeemed like
a flaming Torche, the value thereof not to bee eſtimated. By him
likewiſe hee laid a rich ſword, with the girdle, hangers, and other
furniture, ſuch as ſeldome can be ſeene the like. Then hee laid a
Iewell on the Pillow by him, ſo ſumptuouſlie embeliſhed with
Pearles and precious Stones, as might haue beſeemed the greateſt
Monarch in the World to weare. Laſt of all, on either ſide
of them, hee ſet two great Baſons of pure Gold, full of double
ducates, many cords of Orient Pearles, Rings, Girdles, and other
coſtly Iewells (ouer-tedious to bee recounted) and kiſſing him
once more as hee lay in the bedde, commanded the Magitian to diſpatch
and be gone.
Inſtantly, the bedde and Thorello in it, in the preſence of Saladine,
was inuiſibly carried thence, and while he ſate conferring with his
Baſchaes, the bed, Signior Thorello, and all the rich Iewells about
him, was tranſported and ſet in the Church of San Pietro in Ciel
d' Ore in Pauia, according to his own requeſt, and ſoundly ſleeping,
being placed directly before the high Altar. Afterward, when the
bells rung to Mattines, the Sexton entring the Church with a light
in his hand (where hee beheld a light of greater ſplendor) and ſuddenly
eſpied the ſumptuous bedde there ſtanding: not only was he
ſmitten into admiration, but hee ranne away alſo very fearefully.
When the Abbot and the Monkes mette him thus running into the
Cloyſter, they became amazed, and demanded the reaſon why he
ranne in ſuch haſte, which the Sexton told them. How? quoth the
Abbot, thou art no childe, or a new-come hither, to be ſo eaſilie
affrighted in our holy Church, where Spirits can haue no power
to walke, God and Saint Peter (wee hope) are ſtronger for vs then
ſo: wherefore turne backe with vs, and let vs ſee the cauſe of thy
feare.
Hauing lighted many Torches, the Abbot and his Monkes entred
with the Sexton into the Church, where they beheld the
wonderfull riche bedde, and the Knight lying faſt a-ſleepe in it.
While they ſtood all in amazement, not daring to approach neere
the bedde, whereon lay ſuch coſtly Iewells: it chanced that Signior
Thorello awaked, and breathed forth a vehement ſigh. The
Monkes and the Abbot ſeeing him to ſtirre, ranne all away in feare,
crying aloud, God and S. Peter defend vs.
By this time Thorello had opened his eyes, and looking round about
him, perceiued that hee was in the place of Saladines promiſe,
whereof hee was not a little ioyfull. Wherefore, ſitting vp in the
bedde, and particularly obſeruing all the things about him: albeit
he knew ſufficiently the magnificence of Saladine, yet now it appeared
far greater to him, and imagined more largely thereof, then hee
could doe before. But yet, without any other ceremony, ſeeing the
flight of the Monkes, hearing their cry, and perceiuing the reaſon;
he called the Abbot by his name, deſiring him not to be afraid, for
he was his Nephew Thorello, and no other.
When the Abbot heard this, hee was ten times worſe affrighted
then before, becauſe (by publique fame) hee had beene ſo many
moneths dead and buried; but receiuing (by true arguments) better
aſſurance of him, and hearing him ſtill call him by his name:
bleſſing himſelfe with the ſigne of the Croſſe, hee went ſomewhat
neerer to the bed, when Thorello ſaid. My louing Vncle, and religious
holy Father, wherof are you afraid? I am your louing Nephew,
newly returned from beyond the Seas. The Abbot, ſeeing his beard
to be grown long, and his habit after the Arabian faſhion, did yet
collect ſome reſemblance of his former countenance; and being
better perſwaded of him, tooke him by the hand, ſaying:
Sonne thou art happily returned, yet there is not any man in our
Citie, but doth verily beleeue thee to bee dead, and therefore
doe not much wonder at our feare. Moreouer; I dare aſſure thee,
that thy Wife Adalietta, being conquered by the controuling command,
and threatnings of her kinred (but much againſt her owne
minde) is this very morning to be married to a new husband, and
the marriage feaſt is ſolemnly prepared, in honour of this ſecond
nuptialls.
Thorello ariſing out of the bedde, gaue gracious ſalutations to the
Abbot and his Monkes, intreating earneſtly of them all, that no
word might be ſpoken of his returne, vntill he had compleated an
important buſineſſe. Afterward, hauing ſafely ſecured the bedde,
and all the rich Iewells, he fully acquainted the Abbot with all his
paſſed fortunes, whereof he was immeaſurably ioyfully, & hauing
ſatisfied him, concerning the new elected husband, Thorello ſaid vnto
the Abbot. Vnckle, before any rumour of my returne, I would
gladly ſee my wiues behauior at this new briding feaſt, & although
men of religion are ſeldome ſeene at ſuch Iouiall meetings: yet (for
my ſake) doe you ſo order the matter, that I (as an Arabian ſtrange
•
)
may be a gueſt vnder your prorection▪ wherto the Abbot very
gladly condeſcended.
In the morning, he ſent to the Bridegroom, and aduertiſed him,
that he (with a ſtranger newly arriued) intented to dine with him,
which the Gentleman accepted in thankefull manner. And when
dinner time came, Thorello in his ſtrange diſguiſe went with the
Abbot to the Bridegroomes houſe, where he was lookt on with admiration
of all the gueſts, but not knowne or ſuſpected by any one;
becauſe the Abbot reported him to be a Sarracine, and ſent by the
Soldane (in Ambaſſage) to the King of France. Thorello was ſeated
at a by-table, but directly oppoſite to the new Bride, whom hee
much delighted to looke on, and eaſily collected by her ſad countenance,
that ſhee was ſcarcely well pleaſed with this new nuptialls.
She likewiſe beheld him very often, not in regard of any knowlege
ſhe took of him: for the buſhineſs of his beard, ſtrangeneſs of habit,
(but moſt of all) firm beleefe of his death, was the maine preuentiō.
At ſuch time as Thorello thought it conuenient, to approue how
farre he was falne out of her remembrance; he took the ring which
ſhe gaue him at his departure, and calling a young Page that waited
on none but the Bride, ſaid to him in Italian: Faire youth, goe to
the Bride, and ſaluting her from me, tell her, it is a cuſtome obſerued
in my Country, that when any Stranger (as I am heere) ſitteth
before a new married Bride, as now ſhee is, in ſigne that hee is welcome
to her feaſt, ſhe ſendeth the ſame Cup (wherein ſhe drinketh
her ſelfe) full of the beſt wine, and when the ſtranger hath drunke
ſo much as him pleaſeth, the Bride then pledgeth him with all the
reſt. The Page deliuered the meſſage to the Bride, who, being a
woman of honourable diſpoſition, and reputing him to be a Noble
Gentleman, to teſtifie that his preſence there was very acceptable to
her, ſhee commanded a faire Cuppe of gold (which ſtood directlie
before her) to bee neately waſhed, and when it was filled with
excellent Wine, cauſed it to bee carried to the ſtranger, and ſo it
was done.
Thorello hauing drunke a heartie draught to the Bride, conueyed
the Ring into the Cuppe, before any perſon could perceiue it,
and hauing left but ſmall ſtore of Wine in it, couered the Cuppe,
and ſent it againe to the Bride, who receiued it very graciouſly,
and to honour the Stranger in his Countries cuſtome, dranke vp
the reſt of the Wine, and eſpying the Ring, ſhee tooke it forth vndeſcried
by any: Knowing it to be the ſame Ring which ſhee gaue
Signior Thorello at his parting from her; ſhe fixed her eyes often on
it, & as often on him, whom ſhe thought to be a ſtranger, the cheerfull
bloud mounting vp into her cheeks, and returning againe with
remembrance to her heart, that (howſoeuer thus diſguiſed) he only
was her husband.
Like one o
•
Bacchus Froes, vp furiouſly ſhe ſtarted, and throwing
downe the Table before her, cried out aloud: This is my Lord
and Husband, this truely is my Lord Thorello. So running to the
Table where he ſate, without regard of all the riches thereon, down
ſhe threw it likewiſe, and claſping her armes about his necke, hung
ſo mainly on him (weeping, ſobbing, and kiſſing him) as ſhe could
not be taken off by any of the company, nor ſhewed any moderation
in this exceſſe of paſſion, till Thorello ſpake, and entreated her
to be more patient, becauſe this extremity was ouer-dangerous for
her. Thus was the ſolemnitie much troubled, but euery one there
very glad and ioyfull for the recouery of ſuch a famous and worthy
Knight, who intreated them all to vouchſafe him ſilence, and ſo related
all his fortunes to them, from the time of his departure, to the
inſtant houre. Concluding withall, that hee was no way offended
with the new Bride-groome, who vpon the ſo conſtant report of
his death, deſerued no blame in making election of his wife.
The Bridegroome, albeit his countenance was ſomewhat cloudie,
to ſee his hope thus diſappointed: yet granted freely, that Adalietto
was Thorello's wife in equitie, and hee could not iuſtly lay any
claime to her. She alſo reſigned the Crown and Rings which ſhe
had ſo lately receiued of her new Spouſe, and put that on her finger
which ſhe found in the Cup, and that Crowne was ſet vpon her
head, in honor ſent her from great Saladine. In which triumphant
manner, ſhe left the new Bridegrooms abiding, and repayred home
to Thorello's houſe, with ſuch pompe and magnificence as neuer
had the like been ſeene in Pauia before, all the Citizens eſteeming
it as a miracle, that they had ſo happily recouered Signior Thorello
againe.
Some part of the Iewells he gaue to him, who had beene at coſt
with the marriage feaſting, and ſome to his Vncle the Abbot, beſide
a bountie beſtowed on the Monkes. Then he ſent a meſſenger
to Saladine, with Letters of his whole ſucceſſe, and confeſſing himſelfe
(for euer) his obliged ſeruant: liuing many yeeres (after) with
his wife Adalietta, and vſing greater curteſies to ſtrangers, then euer
before he had done.
In this manner ended the troubles of Signior Thorello, and the afflictions
of his dearely affected Lady, with due recompence to their
honeſt and ready courteſies. Many ſtriue (in outward ſhew) to doe
the like, who although they are ſufficiently able, doe performe it ſo
baſely, as it rather redoundeth to their ſhame, then honour. And
therefore if no merit enſue thereon, but onely ſuch diſgrace as iuſtly
ſhould follow; let them lay the blame vpon themſelues.
The Marqueſſe of Saluzzo, named Gualtiero, being conſtrained by the importunate ſolliciting of his Lords, and other inferiour people, to ioyne himſelfe in marriage; tooke a woman according to his owne liking, called Grizelda, ſhe being the daughter of a poore Countriman, named Ianiculo, by whom he had two children, which he pretended to be ſecretly murdered. Afterward, they being grown to yeres of more ſtature, and making ſhew of taking in marriage another wife, more worthy of his high degree and Calling: made a ſeeming publique liking of his owne daughter, expulſing his wife Grizelda poorely from him. But finding her incomparable patience; more dearely (then before) hee receiued her into fauour againe, brought her home to his owne Pallace, where (with her children) hee cauſed her and them to be reſpectiuely honoured, in deſpight of all her aduerſe enemies.
The Tenth Nouell.
Set downe as an example or warning to all wealthie men, how to haue care of marrying themſelues. And likewiſe to poore and meane women, to be patient in their fortunes, and obedient to their husbands.
QVeſtionleſſe, the Kings Nouell did not ſo much exceed the
reſt in length, but it proued as pleaſing to the whole aſſembly,
& paſt with their generall approbation, till Dioneus (in
a merry ieſting humour) ſaid. The plaine honeſt ſimple man, that
ſtood holding the Candle, to ſee the ſetting on of his Mules tayle;
deſerued two penny-worth of more praiſe, then all our applauding
of Signior Thorello: And knowing himſelfe to bee left for the laſt
ſpeaker, thus he began.
Milde & modeſt Ladies, for ought I can perceiue to the contrary,
this day was dedicated to none but Kings, Soldanes, and great Potentates,
not in fauour of any inferiour or meaner perſons. And
therefore, becauſe I would be loth to diſ-ranke my ſelfe from the
reſt, I purpoſe to ſpeake of a Lord Marqueſſe, not any matter of
great magnificence, but rather in a more humble nature, and ſorted
to an honeſt end: which yet I will not aduiſe any to immitate, becauſe
(perhaps) they cannot ſo well digeſt it, as they did whom my
Nouell concerneth; thus then I begin.
It is a great while ſince, when among thoſe that were Lord Marqueſſes
of Saluzzo, the very greateſt and worthieſt man of them al,
was a young Noble Lord, named Gualtiero, who hauing neyther
wife nor childe, ſpent his time in nothing elſe but hawking & hunting:
nor had he any minde of marriage, or to enioy the benefit of
children, wherein many did repute him the wiſer. But this being
diſtaſtfull to his ſubiects, they very often earneſtly ſolicited him, to
match himſelfe with a wife, to the end, that hee might not deceaſe
without an heire, nor they be left deſtitute of a ſucceeding Lord;
offering themſelues to prouide him of ſuch a one, ſo well deſcended
by Father and Mother, as not only ſhould confirm their hope,
but alſo yeeld him high contentment; whereto the Lord Marqueſs
thus anſwered.
Worthie friends, you would conſtraine me to the thing, wherewith
I neuer had any intent to meddle, conſidering, how difficult
a caſe it is to meet with ſuch a woman, who can agree with a man in
all his conditions, and how great the number is of them, who daily
happen on the contrarie: but moſt (and worſt of all the reſt) how
wretched and miſerable prooues the life of man, who is bound to
liue with a wife not fit for him. And in ſaying, you can learn to vnderſtand
the cuſtome and qualities of children, by behauiour of the
fathers and mothers, and ſo to prouide mee of a wife, it is a meere
argument of folly: for neither ſhall I comprehend, or you either,
the ſecret inclinations of parents; I meane of the Father, and much
leſſe the complexion of the mother. But admitte it were within
compaſſe of power to know them; yet it is a frequent ſight, and
obſerued euery day; that daughters doe reſemble neither father
nor mother, but that they are naturally gouerned by their owne
inſtinct.
But becauſe you are ſo deſirous to haue me fettered in the chains
of wedlocke; I am contented to grant what you requeſt. And becauſe
I would haue no complaint made of any but my ſelfe, if matters
ſhould not happen anſwerable to expectation; I will make mine
owne eyes my electors, and not ſee by any others ſight. Giuing
you this aſſurance before, that if ſhe whom I ſhall make choice of,
be not of you honoured and reſpected as your Lady and Miſtreſſe:
it will enſue to your detriment, how much you haue diſpleaſed me,
to take a wife at your requeſt, and againſt mine owne will.
The Noble men anſwered, that they were well ſatisfied, prouided
that he tooke a wife.
Some indifferent ſpace of time before, the beauty, manners, and
well-ſeeming vertues, of a poore Countrie-mans daughter, dwelling
in no farre diſtant village, had appeared very pleaſing to the
Lord Marqueſſe, and gaue him full perſwaſion, that with her hee
ſhould lead a comfortable life. And therefore without any further
ſearch or inquiſition, he abſolutely reſolued to marry her, and hauing
conferred with her Father, agreed, that his daughter ſhould be
his wife. Whereupon, the Marqueſſe made a generall conuocation
Conuocation of all his Lords, Barons, and other of his eſpeciall
friends, from all parts of his Dominion; and when they were
aſſembled together, hee then ſpake vnto them in manner as followeth.
Honourable friends, it appeared pleaſing to you all, and yet (I
thinke) you are of the ſame minde, that I ſhould diſpoſe my ſelfe to
take a wife: and I thereto condeſcended, more to yeeld you contentment,
then for any particular deſire in my ſelfe. Let mee now
remember you of your ſolemne made promiſe, with full conſent to
honor and obey her (whoſoeuer) as your Soueraigne Lady and Miſtreſſe,
that I ſhall elect to make my wife: and now the time is come,
for my exacting the performance of that promiſe, and which I look
you muſt conſtantly keepe. I haue made choyce of a yong virgine,
anſwerable to mine owne heart and liking, dwelling not farre off
hence, whom I intend to make my wife, and (within few daies) to
haue her brought home to my Pallace. Let your care and diligence
then extend ſo farre, as to ſee that the feaſt may be ſumptuous, and
her entertainment to bee moſt honourable: to the end that I may
receiue as much contentment in your promiſe performed, as you
ſhall perceiue I doe in my choice.
The Lords and all the reſt, were wondrouſly ioyfull to heare him
ſo well inclined, expreſſing no leſſe by their ſhouts and iocund ſuffrages:
proteſting cordially, that ſhe ſhould be welcommed with
pompe and maieſtie, and honoured of them all, as their Liege Ladie
and Soueraigne. Afterward, they made preparation for a
princely and magnificent feaſt, as the Marqueſſe did the like, for a
marriage of extraordinary ſtate and qualitie, inuiting all his kinred,
friends, and acquaintance in all parts and Prouinces, about him.
Hee made alſo readie moſt riche and coſtly garments, ſhaped by
the body of a comely young Gentlewoman, who he knew to be equall
in proportion and ſtature, to her of whom hee hade made his
election.
When the appointed nuptiall day was come, the Lord Marques,
about nine of the clocke in the morning, mounted on horſe-backe,
as all the reſt did, who came to attend him honourably, and
hauing all things in due readineſſe with them, he ſaid: Lords, it is
time for vs to goe fetch the Bride. So on hee rode with his traine,
to the ſame poore Village whereas ſhee dwelt, and when hee was
come to her Fathers houſe, hee ſaw the maiden returning very haſtily
from a Well, where ſhee had beene to fetch a paile of water,
which ſhee ſet downe, and ſtood (accompanied with other maidens)
to ſee the paſſage by of the Lord Marqueſſe and his traine.
Gualtiero called her by her name, which was Grizelda, and asked
her, where her Father was: who baſhfully anſwered him, and with
an humble courteſie, ſaying. My gracious Lord, hee is in the
houſe.
Then the Marqueſſe diſmounted from his horſe, commanding
euery one to attend him, then all alone hee entred into the poore
Cottage, where he found the maides father, being named Ianiculo,
and ſaid vnto him. God ſpeed good Father, I am come to eſpouſe
thy daughter Grizelda: but firſt I haue a few demands to make,
which I will vtter to her in thy preſence. Then hee turned to the
maide, and ſaide.
Faire Grizelda, if I make you my wife, will you doe your beſt
endeauour to pleaſe me, in all things which I ſhall doe or ſay? will
you alſo be gentle, humble, and patient? with diuers other the like
queſtions: whereto ſhe ſtill anſwered, that ſhe would, ſo neere as
heauen (with grace) ſhould enable her.
Preſently he tooke her by the hand, ſo led her forth of the poore
homely houſe, and in the preſence of all his company, with his
owne hands, he took off her meane wearing garments, ſmocke and
all, and cloathed her with thoſe Robes of State which he had purpoſely
brought thither for her, and plaiting her haire ouer her
ſhoulders, hee placed a Crowne of gold on her head, whereat euery
one ſtanding as amazed, and wondring not a little, hee ſaid:
Grizelda, wilt thou haue me to thy husband. Modeſtly bluſhing,
and kneeling on the ground, ſhe anſwered. Yes my gracious Lord,
if you will accept ſo poore a maiden to be your wife. Yes Grizelda,
quoth hee, with this holy kiſſe, I confirme thee for my wife; and
ſo eſpouſed her before them all. Then mounting her on a milkewhite
Palfray, brought thither for her, ſhee was thus honourably
conducted to her Pallace.
Now concerning the marriage feaſt and triumphes, they were
performed with no leſſe pompe, then if ſhe had beene daughter to
the King of France. And the young Bride apparantly declared,
that (with her garments) her minde and behauior were quite changed.
For indeed ſhee was (as it were ſhame to ſpeake otherwiſe) a
rare creature, both of perſon and perfections, and not onely was
ſhee abſolute for beautie, but ſo ſweetely amiable, gracious, and
goodlie; as if ſhe were not the daughter of poore Ianiculo, and a
Countrie Shepheardeſſe, but rather of ſome Noble Lord, whereat
euery one wondred that formerly had knowne her. Beſide all
this, ſhee was ſo obedient to her husband, ſo feruent in all dutifull
offices, and patient, without the very leaſt prouoking: as hee held
himſelfe much more then contented, and the onely happy man of
the world.
In like manner, towards the ſubiects of her Lord and Husband,
ſhe ſhewed her ſelfe alwayes ſo benigne and gracious; as there was
not any one, but the more they lookt on her, the better they loued
her, honouring her voluntarily, and praying to the heauens, for her
health, dignity and well-fa
••
long continuance. Speaking now
(quite contrary to their former opinion of the Marqueſſe) honourably
and worthily, that he had ſhewne him ſelfe a ſingular wiſe
man, in the election of his Wife, which few elſe (but he) in the
world would haue done: becauſe their iudgement might fall farre
ſhort, of diſcerning thoſe great and precious vertues, veiled vnder
a homely habite, and obſcured in a poore Countrey cottage. To
be briefe, in very ſhort time, not onely the Marquiſate it ſelfe, but
all neighbouring Prouinces round about, had no other common
talke, but of her rare courſe of life, deuotion, charity, and all good
actions elſe; quite quailing all ſiniſter Inſtructions of her Husband,
before he receiued her in marriage.
About foure or fiue yeeres after the birth of her daughter, ſhee
conceiued with child againe, and (at the limitted houre of deliuerance)
had a goodly Sonne, to the no little liking of the Marqueſſe.
Afterward, a ſtrange humour entred into his braine, namely,
that by a long continued experience, and courſes of intollerable
quality; he would needes make proofe of his faire Wiues patience.
Firſt he began to prouoke her by iniurious ſpeeches, ſhewing fierce
and frowning lookes to her, intimating; that his people grew diſpleaſed
with him, in regard of his Wiues baſe birth and education,
and ſo much the rather, becauſe ſhe was likely to bring children,
who (by her blood) were no better then beggers, and murmured at
the daughter already borne. Which words when Grizelda heard,
without any alteration of countenance, for the leaſt diſtemperature
in any appearing action, ſhe ſaid.
My honourable and gracious Lord, diſpoſe of me, as you thinke
beſt, for your owne dignity and contentment, for I ſhall therewith
be well pleaſed: as ſhe that knowes her ſelfe, farre inferiour to the
meaneſt of your people, much leſſe worthy of the honour, whereto
you liked to aduance me.
This anſwere was very welcome to the Marqueſſe, as apparantly
perceiuing hereby, that the dignity whereto hee had exalted her,
or any particular fauours beſide, could not infect her with any
pride, coyneſſe, or diſdaine. Not long after, hauing told her in plaine
and open ſpeeches, that his ſubiects could not endure her ſo late
borne daughter: he called a truſty ſeruant of his, and hauing inſtructed
him what he ſhould doe, ſent him to Grizelda, and he being alone
with her, looking very ſadde, and much perplexed in mind, he
ſaide. Madame, except I intend to looſe mine owne life,
I muſt accompliſh what my Lord hath ſtrictly enioyned me, which
is, to take this your yong daughter, and then I muſt: So breaking
off abruptly, the Lady hearing his words, and noting his frowning
lookes, remembring alſo what the Marqueſſe himſelfe had formerly
ſaid; ſhe preſently imagined, that he had commanded his ſeruant
to kill the childe. Suddenly therefore, ſhe tooke it out of the
Cradle, and hauing ſweetly kiſſed, and beſtowne her bleſſing on it
(albeit her heart throbbed, with the inward affection of a Mother)
without any alteration of countenance, ſhe tenderly laid it in the
ſeruants armes, and ſaid. Here friend, take it, and doe with it as thy
Lord and mine hath commanded thee: but leaue it in no rude
place, where birds or ſauage beaſts may deuoure it, except it be his
will to haue it ſo.
The ſeruant departing from her with the child, and reporting
to the Marqueſſe what his Lady had ſaid; he wondered at her incomparable
conſtancy. Then he ſent it by the ſame ſeruant to
Bologna, to an honourable Lady his kinſewoman, requeſting her
(without reuealing whoſe child it was) to ſee it both nobly and carefully
educated.
At time conuenient afterward, being with child againe, and deliuered
of a Princely Sonne (then which nothing could be more
ioyfull to the Marqueſſe) yet all this was not ſufficient for him; but
with farre ruder language then before, and lookes expreſſing harſh
intentions, he ſaid vnto her. Grizelda, though thou pleaſeſt me
wonderfully, by the birth of this Princely Boy, yet my ſubiects are
not therewith contented, but blunder abroad maliciouſly; that the
grand-child of Ianiculo, a poore countrey pezant, when I am dead
and gone, muſt be their Soueraigne Lord and Maſter. Which
makes me ſtand in feare of their expulſion, and to preuent that, I
muſt be rid of this childe, as well as the other, and then ſend thee
away from hence, that I may take another wife, more pleaſing to
them.
Grizelda, with a patient ſufferent ſoule, hearing what he had ſaid,
returned no other anſwere but this. Moſt Gracious and Honourable
Lord, ſatisfie and pleaſe your owne Royall minde, and neuer
vſe any reſpect of me: for nothing is precious or pleaſing to mee,
but what may agree with your good liking. Within a while after,
the Noble Marqueſſe in the like manner as he did before for the
Daughter, ſo he ſent the ſame ſeruant for the Sonne, and ſeeming
as if he had ſent it to haue been ſlaine, conueighed it to be nurſed at
Bologna, in company of his ſweete Siſter. Whereat the Lady
ſhewed no other diſcontentment in any kinde, then formerly
ſhe had done for her Daughter, to the no meane maruell of the
Marqueſſe, who proteſted in his ſoule, that the like woman was
not in all the world beſide. And were it not for his heedfull obſeruation,
how louing and carefull ſhe was of her children, prizing
them as dearely as her owne life: raſh opinion might haue perſwaded
him, that ſhe had no more in her, then a carnall affection,
not caring how many ſhe had, ſo ſhee might thus eaſily be rid of
them; but he knew her to be a truely vertuous mother, and wiſely
liable to endure his ſeuereſt impoſitions.
His Subiects beleeuing, that he had cauſed the children to bee
ſlaine, blamed him greatly, thought him to be a moſt cruell man,
and did highly compaſſionate the Ladies caſe: who when ſhee
came in company of other Gentlewomen, which mourned for
their deceaſſed children, would anſwere nothing elſe: but that
they could not be more pleaſing to her, then they were to the father
that begot them.
Within certaine yeares after the birth of theſe children, the
Marqueſſe purpoſed with himſelfe, to make his laſt and finall
proofe of faire Grizeldaes patience, and ſaid to ſome neere about
him: that he could no longer endure, to keepe Grizelda as hi wife,
confeſſing, he had done fooliſhly, and according to a young giddie
braine, when he was ſo raſh in the marriage of her. Wherfore he
would ſend to the Pope, and purchaſe a diſpenſation from him,
to repudiate Grizelda, and take another Wife. Wherein although
they greatly reproued him; yet he told them plainely, that it muſt
needes be ſo.
The Lady hearing theſe newes, and thinking ſhe muſt returne againe
to her poore fathers houſe, and (perhaps) to her old occupation
of keeping ſheepe, as in her yonger dayes ſhe had done, vnderſtanding
withall, that another woman muſt enioy him, whom ſhee
dearely loued and honoured; you may well thinke (worthy Ladies)
that her patience was now put to the maine proofe indeede. Neuertheleſſe,
as with an inuincible true vertuous courage, ſhe had outſtood
all the other iniuries of Fortune; ſo did ſhe conſtantly ſettle
her ſoule, to beare this with an vndaunted countenance and behauiour.
At ſuch time as was prefixed for the purpoſe, counterfeit Letters
came to the Marqueſſe (as ſent from Rome) which he cauſed to be
publikely read in the hearing of his ſubiects: that the Pope had diſpenſed
with him, to leaue Grizelda, and marry with another Wife,
wherefore, ſending for her immediatly, in preſence of them all, thus
he ſpake to her. Woman, by conceſſion ſent me from the Pope,
he hath diſpenſed with me, to make choyce of another Wife, and
to free my ſelfe from thee. And becauſe my predeceſſors haue
beene Noblemen, and great Lords in this Country, thou being the
daughter of a poore Countrey Clowne, and their blood and mine
notoriouſly imbaſed, by my marriage with thee: I intend to haue
thee no longer my Wife, but will returne thee home to thy Fathers
houſe, with all the rich Dowry thou broughteſt me; and then I wil
take another Wife, with whom I am already contracted, better
beſeeming my birth, and farre more contenting and pleaſing to my
people.
The Lady hearing theſe words (not without much paine and
difficulty) reſtrayned her teares, quite contrary to the naturall inclination
of women, and thus anſwered. Great Marqueſſe, I neuer
was ſo empty of diſcretion, but did alwayes acknowledge, that my
baſe and humble condition, could not in any manner ſute with
your high blood and Nobility, and my being with you, I euer acknowledged,
to proceed from heauen and you, not any merit of
mine, but onely as a fauour lent me, which you being now pleaſed
to recall backe againe, I ought to be pleaſed (and ſo am) that it bee
reſtored. Here is the Ring, wherewith you Eſpouſed me; here (in
all humility) I deliuer it to you. You command me, to carry home
the marriage Dowry which I brought with me: there is no need
of a Treaſurer to repay it me, neither any new purſe to carry it in,
much leſſe any Sumpter to be laden with it. For (Noble Lord) it
it was neuer out of my memory, that you tooke me ſtarke naked,
and if it ſhall ſeeme ſightly to you, that this body which hath borne
two children, and be gotten by you, muſt againe be ſeene naked;
willingly muſt I depart hence naked. But I humbly beg of your
Excellency, in recompence of my Virginity, which I brought you
blameleſſe, ſo much as in thought: that I may haue but one of my
wedding Smocks, onely to conceale the ſhame of nakedneſſe, and
then I depart rich enough.
The Marqueſſe whoſe heart wept bloody teares, as his eyes
would likewiſe gladly haue yeelded their naturall tribute; couered
all with a diſſembled angry countenance, and ſtarting vp, ſaid. Goe,
giue her a Smocke onely, and ſo ſend her gadding. All there preſent
about him, entreated him to let her haue a petticote, becauſe it
might not be ſaid, that ſhe who had been his Wife thirteene yeares
and more, was ſent away ſo poorely in her Smocke: but all their
perſwaſions preuailed not with him. Naked in her Smocke, without
hoſe or ſhooes, bareheaded, and not ſo much as a Cloth about
her necke, to the great griefe and mourning of all that ſaw her, ſhe
went home to her old fathers houſe.
And he (good man) neuer beleeuing, that the Marqueſſe would
long keepe his daughter as his Wife, but rather expected daily,
what now had happened: ſafely laid vp the garments, whereof the
Marqueſſe deſpoyled her, the ſame morning when he eſpouſed her.
Wherefore he deliuered them to her, and ſhe fell to her fathers
houſhold buſineſſe, according as formerly ſhe had done; ſuſtayning
with a great and vnconquerable ſpirit, all the cruell aſſaults of
her enemy Fortune.
About ſuch time after, as ſuted with his owne diſpoſition, the
Marqueſſe made publiquely knowne to his ſubſects, that he meant
to ioyne in marriage again, with the daughter to one of the Counts
of Panago, and cauſing preparation to be made for a ſumptuous
wedding; he ſent for Grizelda, and ſhe being come, thus he ſpake
to her. The Wife that I haue made the new election of, i
•
to arriue
here within very few dayes, and at her firſt comming, I would
haue her to be moſt honourably entertained. Thou knoweſt I haue
no women in my houſe, that can decke vp the Chambers, and ſet
all requiſite things in due order, befitting for ſo ſolemne a Feaſt:
and therefore I ſent for thee, who knowing (better then any other)
all the partes, prouiſion and goods in the houſe, ſet euery thing in
ſuch order, as thou ſhalt thinke neceſſary.
Inuite ſuch Ladies and Gentlewomen as thou wilt, and giue
them welcome, euen as if thou wert the Lady of the houſe: and
when the marriage is ended, returne then home to thy father againe.
Although theſe words pierced like wounding daggers, the heart
of poore (but Noble patient) Grizelda, as being vnable to forget
the vnequal'd loue ſhe bare to the Marqueſſe, though the dignitie
of her former fortune, more eaſily ſlipt out of her remembrance;
yet neuertheleſſe, thus ſhe anſwered.
My Gracious Lord, I am glad I can doe you any ſeruice; wherein
you ſhall find mee both willing and ready. In the ſame poore
garments, as ſhe came from her fathers houſe, (although ſhee was
turned out in her Smocke) ſhe began to ſweep and make cleane the
Chambers, rubbe the ſtooles and benches in the Hall, and ordered
things in the Kitchin, as if ſhe were the worſt maide in al the houſe,
neuer ceaſing or giuing ouer, till all things were in due and decent
order as beſt beſeemed in ſuch a caſe. After all which was done, the
Marqueſſe, hauing inuited all the Ladies of the Countrey, to be
preſent at ſo great a Feaſt: when the marriage day came, Grizelda,
in her gowne of Countrey gray, gaue them welcome, in honourable
manner, and graced them all with very cheerefull countenance.
Gualtiero the Marqueſſe, who had cauſed his two children to be
nobly nouriſhed at Bologna, with a neere kinſwoman of his, who
had married with one of the Counts of Panago, his daughter being
now aged twelue yeares old, and ſome-what more, as alſo the Son
about ſixe or ſeuen. He ſent a Gentleman expreſly to his kindred,
to haue them come and viſite him at Saluzza, bringing his daughter
and Sonne with them, attended in very honourable manner, and
publiſhing euery where as they came along, that the young Virgin
(knowne to none but himſelfe and them) ſhould be the Wife to
the Marqueſſe, and that onely was the cauſe of her comming. The
Gentleman was not ſlacke, in the execution of the truſt repoſed in
him: but hauing made conuenient preparation; with the kindred,
Sonne, daughter, and a worthy company attending on them, arriued
at Saluzza about dinner time, where wanted no reſort, from
all neighbouring parts round about, to ſee the comming of the
Lord Marqueſſes new Spouſe.
By the Lords and Ladies ſhe was ioyfully entertained, and comming
into the great Hall, where the Tables were readily couered:
Grizelda, in her homely Country habite, humbled her ſelfe before
her, ſaying. Gracious welcome, to the new elected Spouſe of the
Lord Marqueſſe.
All the Ladies there preſent, who had very earneſtly importuned
Gualtiero (but in vaine) that Grizelda, might either be ſhut vp
in ſome Chamber, or elſe to lend her the wearing of any other garments,
which formerly had been her owne, becauſe ſhe ſhould not
be ſo poorely ſeene among ſtrangers: being ſeated at the Tables,
ſhe waited on them very ſeruiceably. The yong Virgin was obſerued
by euery one, who ſpared not to ſay; that the Marqueſſe had
made an excellent change: but aboue them all, Grizelda did moſt
commend her, and ſo did her brother likewiſe, as young as he was,
yet not knowing her to be his Siſter.
Now was the Marqueſſe ſufficiently ſatisfied in his ſoule, that
he had ſeene ſo much as he deſired, concerning the patience of his
Wife, who in ſo many hart grieuing trials, was neuer noated ſo
much as to alter her countenance. And being abſolutely perſwaded,
that this proceeded not from any want of vnderſtanding in
her, becauſe he knew her to be ſingularly wiſe: he thought it high
time now, to free her from theſe afflicting oppreſſions, and giue her
ſuch aſſurance as ſhe ought to haue. Wherefore, commanding her
into his preſence, openly before all his aſſembled friends, ſmiling on
her, he ſaid. What thinkſt thou Grizelda of our new choſen Spouſe?
My Lord (quoth ſhe) I like her exceeding well, and if ſhe be ſo wiſe,
as ſhe is faire (which verely I thinke ſhe is) I make no doubt but
you ſhall liue with her, as the onely happy man of the world. But I
humbly entreat your Honor (if I haue any power in me to preuaile
by) that you would not giue her ſuch cutting and vnkind language,
as you did to your other wife: for I cannot thinke her armed with
ſuch patience, as ſhould (indeed) ſupport them: as wel in regard ſhe
is much yonger, as alſo her more delicate breeding and education,
whereas ſhe who you had before, was brought vp in continual toile
and trauaile.
When the Marqueſſe perceyued, that Grizelda beleeued verily,
this yong daughter of hers ſhould be his wife, and anſwered him in
ſo honeſt and modeſt manner: he commanded her to ſit downe by
him, and ſaide. Grizelda, it is now more then fitte time, that thou
ſhouldſt taſte the fruite of thy long admired patience, and that they
who haue thought me cruell, harſh and vnciuill natured, ſhould at
length obſerue, that I haue done nothing baſely, or vnaduiſedly.
For this was a worke premeditated before, for enſtructing thee,
what it is to be a married wife, and to let them know (whoſoeuer
they be) how to take and keepe a wife. Which hath begotten (to
me) perpetuall ioy and happineſſe, ſo long as I haue a day to liue
with thee: a matter whereof I ſtoode before greatly in feare, and
which (in marriage I thought) would neuer happen to me.
It is not vnknown to thee, in how many kinds (for my firſt proofe)
I gaue thee harſh and vnpleaſing ſpeeches, which drawing no diſcontentment
from thee, either in lookes, words, or behauiour, but
rather ſuch comfort as my ſoule deſired, and ſo in my other ſucceedings
afterward: in one minute now, I purpoſe to giue thee that
conſolation, which I bereft thee of in many tempeſtuous ſtormes,
and make a ſweet reſtauration, for all thy former ſower ſufferinges.
My faire and dearly affected Grizelda, ſhee whom thou ſuppoſeſt
for my new elected Spouſe, with a glad and cheerfull hart, imbrace
for thine owne daughter, and this alſo her Brother, beeing both of
them thy children and mine, in common opinion of the vulgar multitude,
imagined to be (by my command) long ſince ſlaine. I am thy
honourable Lord and Husband, who doth, and will loue thee farre
aboue all women elſe in the world; giuing thee iuſtly this deſerued
praiſe and commendation, That no man liuing hath the like Wife,
as I haue.
So, ſweetly kiſſing her infinitely, and hugging her ioyfully in his
armes (the teares now ſtreaming like new-let-looſe Riuers, downe
her faire face, which no diſaſter before could force from her) hee
brought her, and ſeated her by her daughter, who was not a little amazed
at ſo rare an alteration. Shee hauing (in zeale of affection)
kiſſed and embraced them both, all elſe there preſent being clearely
reſolued from the former doubt which too long deluded them; the
Ladies aroſe iocondly from the tables, and attending on Grizelda
to her Chamber, in ſigne of a more ſucceſſefull augury to follow:
tooke off her poor contemptible rags, and put on ſuch coſtly robes,
which (as Lady Marchioneſſe) ſhe vſed to weare before.
Afterward, they waited on her into the Hall againe, being their
true Soueraigne Lady and Miſtreſſe, as ſhe was no leſſe in her pooreſt
Garments; where all reioycing for the new reſtored Mother, &
happy recouery of ſo noble a ſon and daughter, the Feſtiuall continued
many months after. Now euery one thought the Marqueſſe
to be a noble and wiſe Prince, though ſomewhat ſharpe and vnſufferable,
in the ſeuere experiences made of his wife: but (aboue al) they
reputed Grizelda, to be a moſt wiſe, patient, & vertuous Lady. The
Count of Panago, within few daies after returned backe to Bologna;
and the Lord Marques, fetching home old Ianiculo from his country
drudgery, to liue with him (as his Father in law) in his Princely
Palace, gaue him honorable maintenance, wherein hee long continued,
and ended his daies. Afterward, he matched his daughter in a
Noble marriage: he and Grizelda liuing long time together, in the
higheſt honor that poſſibly could be.
What can now be ſaide to the contrary, but that poore Country
Cottages, may yeeld as diuine & excellent ſpirits, as the moſt ſtately
and Royall manſions, which breed and bring vppe ſome, more
worthy to be Hog-rubbers, then hold any ſoueraignty ouer men?
Where is any other (beſide Grizelda) who not only without a wet
eye, but imboldned by a valiant and inuincible courage: that can
ſuffer the ſharpe rigors, and (neuer the like heard of proofes) made
by the Marqueſſe? Perhaps he might haue met with another, who
would haue quitted him in a contrary kinde, and for thruſting her
forth of doores in her ſmocke, could haue found better ſuccor ſomewhere
elſe, rather then walke ſo nakedly in the cold ſtreets.
DIoneus hauing thus ended his Nouel, and the Ladies deliuering
their ſeuerall iudgements, according to their owne
fancies, ſome holding one conceite, others leaning to the
contrary; one blaming this thing, and another commending that,
the King lifting his eyes to heauen, and ſeeing the Sun begin to fallow,
by riſing of the Euening Starre; without ariſing from his ſeat,
ſpake as followeth. Diſcreet Ladies, I am perſwaded you know ſufficiently,
that the ſenſe and vnderſtanding of vs mortals, conſiſteth
not onely (as I think) by preſeruing in memory things paſt, or knowledge
of them preſent; but ſuch as both by the one and other, kuow
how to foreſee future occaſions, are worthily thought wiſe, and of
no common capacity.
It will be (to morrow) fifteene dayes, ſince we departed from the
City of Florence, to come hither for our paſtime and comfort, the
conſeruation of our liues, and ſupport of our health, by auoyding
thoſe melanchollies, griefes and anguiſhes, which we beheld daylie
in our City, ſince the peſtilentiall viſitation beganne there, wherein
(by my iudgement) we haue done well and honeſtly. Albeit ſome
light Nouels, perhaps attractiue to a little wantonnes, as ſome ſay,
and our Iouiall feaſting with good cheare, ſinging and dancing, may
ſeeme matters inciting to inciuility, eſpecially in weake and ſhallow
vnderſtandings. But I haue neither ſeene, heard, or knowne, any
acte, word, or whatſoeuer elſe, either on your part or ours, iuſtly
deſeruing to be blamed: but all has bin honeſt, as in a ſweete and
hermonious concord, ſuch as might well beſeeme the communitie
of Brethren and Siſters; which aſſuredly, as well in regard of you,
as vs, hath much contented me.
And therefore, leaſt by ouer-long conſuetude, ſomething ſhould
take life, which might be conuerted to a bad conſtruction, & by our
country demourance for ſo many dayes, ſome captious conceit may
wreſt out an ill imagination; I am of the minde (if yours be the like)
ſeeing each of vs hath had the honor, which now remaineth ſtill on
me: that it is very fitting for vs, to returne thither from whence we
came. And ſo much the rather, becauſe this ſociable meeting of
ours, which already hath wonne the knowledge of many dwellers
here about vs, ſhould not grow to ſuch an increaſe, as might make
our purpoſed paſtime offenſiue to vs. In which reſpect (if you allow
of my aduiſe) I wil keepe the Crowne till our departing hence; the
which I intend ſhalbe to morrow: but if you determine otherwiſe,
I am the man ready to make my reſignation.
Many imaginations paſſed amongſt the Ladies, and likewiſe the
men, but yet in the end, they reputed the Kings counſell to bee the
beſt and wiſeſt, concluding to do as he thought conuenient. Whervpon,
hee called the Maſter of the houſholde, and conferred with
him, of the buſineſſe belonging to the next morning, and then gaue
the company leaue to riſe. The Ladies and the reſt, when they were
riſen, fel ſome to one kinde of recreation, and others as their fancies
ſerued them, euen as (before) they had done. And when Supper
time came, they diſpatcht it in very louing manner. Then they began
to play on inſtruments, ſing and dance, and Madame Lauretta
leading the dance: the King commaunded Madame Fiammetta to
ſing a ſong, which pleaſantly ſhe began in this manner.
THE SONG.
The Chorus ſung by all the reſt of the Company.
IF Loue were free from Iealouſie,
No Lady liuing,
Had leſſe heart-greeuing,
Or liu'd ſo happily as I.
If gallant youth
In a faire friend, a woman could content,
If vertues prize, valour and hardiment,
Wit, carriage, pureſt eloquence,
Could free a Woman from impatience:
Then I am ſhe can vaunt (if I were wiſe)
All theſe in one faire flower,
Are in my power,
And yet I boaſt no more but trueth.
If Loue were free from iealouſie, &c.
But I behold
That other Women are as wiſe as I
Which killes me quite,
Fearing falſe ſirquedrie.
For when my fire begins to flame
Others deſires miſguide my aim,
And ſo bereaues me of ſecure delight.
Onely through fond miſtruſt, he is vniuſt:
Thus are my comforts hourely hot and cold.
If Loue were free, &c.
If in my friend,
I found like faith, as manly minde I know;
Miſtruſt were ſlaine.
But my freſh griefes ſtill grow,
By ſight of ſuch as do allure,
So I can thinke none true, none ſure,
But all would rob me of my golden gaine.
Loe thus I dye, in Iealouſie,
For loſſe of him, on whom I moſt depend.
If Loue were free, &c.
Let me aduiſe
Such Ladies as in Loue are brauely bold,
Not to wrong me, I ſcorne to be controld.
If any one I chance to finde,
By winkes, words, ſmiles, in crafty kinde,
Seeking for that, which onely mine ſhould be:
Then I proteſt, to do my beſt,
And make them know, that they are ſcarſly wiſe.
If Loue were free from iealouſie,
I know no Lady liuing,
Could haue leſſe heart-greeuing,
Or liue ſo happily as I.
So ſoone as Madam Fiammetta had ended her Song; Dioneus,
who ſate by her, ſmiling ſaid. Truly Madam, you may do vs a great
courteſie, to expreſſe your ſelfe more plainly to vs all, leaſt (thorow
ignorance) the poſſeſſion may be impoſed on your ſelfe, and ſo you
remaine the more offended. After the Song was paſt, diuers other
were ſung beſide, and it now drawing wel-neere midnight, by the
Kings command, they all went to bed. And when new day appeared,
and all the world awaked out of ſleepe, the Maſte of the Houſhold
hauing ſent away the carriages; they returned (vnder the conduct
of their diſcreet King) to Florence, where the three Gentlemen
left the ſeven Ladies at the Church of Santa Maria Nouella, from
whence they went with them at the firſt. And hauing parted with
kinde ſalutations; the Gentlemen went whether themſelues beſt
pleaſed, and the Ladies repaired home to their houſes.
The End of the Tenth and Laſt Day.