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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ad9cd29 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #52617 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/52617) diff --git a/old/52617-0.txt b/old/52617-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 9b10e6e..0000000 --- a/old/52617-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,19346 +0,0 @@ -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 52617 *** - -THE DECAMERON - -CONTAINING -An hundred pleasant Novels. - -_Wittily discoursed, betweene seaven Honourable Ladies, and three Noble -Gentlemen._ - - -London, printed by -Isaac Jaggard, -1620. - - - - - -The Epistle Dedicatory. - - -TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, SIR PHILLIP HERBERT, Knight of the Bath at the -Coronation of our Soveraigne Lord King James, 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 having -familiar conversation with them. _Intimating thereby:_ The reading of -ancient and moderne Histories, and endeavouring to learne such good -instructions, as have bene observed in our Predecessors. _A Question -also was mooved 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 have bin -done: And to read Bookes of those matters which offer themselves dayly, -or are fittest for our instant affaires. And lastly, in seeking those -things whatsoever, that make for a Kingdomes preservation, and the -correction of evill manners or examples. - -_Upon these good and warrantable grounds (most Noble Lord) beside many -more of the same Nature, which I omit, to avoide 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 gravity and gray-headed age speaketh maturely -in them, to the no meane admiration of common and vulgar judgement. -As contrariwise, such as are ignorant of things done and past, before -themselves had any being: continue still in the estate of children, -able to speake or behave themselves no otherwise; and, even within the -bounds of their Native 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 uppon 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, under your -Noble patronage and defence, to be safely sheelded from foule-mouthed -slander and detraction, which is too easily throwne upon the very best -deserving labours. - -I know (most worthy Lord) that many of them have (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 -favouring of his singular morall applications. For, as it was his full -scope and ayme, by discovering all Vices in their ugly deformities, to -make their mortall enemies (the sacred Vertues) to shine the clearer, -being set downe by them, and compared with them: so every true and -upright judgement, in observing the course of these well-carried -Novels, shall plainly perceive, that there is no spare made of reproofe -in any degree whatsoever, where sin is embraced, and grace neglected; -but the just deserving shame and punishment thereon inflicted, that -others may be warned by their example. In imitation of witty_ Æsope; -_who reciteth not a Fable, but graceth it with a judicious morall -application; as many other worthy Writers have done the like. - -For instance, let me heere insert one. A poore man, having a pike -staffe on his shoulder, and travailing thorow a Countrey Village, a -great Mastive 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 Judge, alledged, that he had slaine his servant, which -defended his life, house, and goods, and therefore challenged -satisfaction. The Judge leaning more in favour to the Plaintiffe, as -being his friend, neighbour, and familiar, then to the justice and -equity of the cause; reprooved the poore fellow somewhat sharpely, and -peremptorily commanded him, to make satisfaction, or else he would -commit him to prison. That were injustice replyed the poore man, -because I kilde the dogge in defence of mine owne life, which deserveth -much better respect then a million of such Curres. Sirra, sirra, saide -the Judge, then you should have turned the other end of your staffe, -and not the pike, so the dogges life had beene saved, and your owne in -no danger. True Sir (quoth the fellow) if the dog would have turn'd -his taile, and bit mee with that, and not his teeth, then we both had -parted quietly. - -I know your honour to be so truly judicious, that your selfe can make -the moral 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 uttermost endeavours, to bee alwayes ready at your -service._ - - - - - -_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 having already stood in neede of comfort, -do therefore most needfully deserve to enjoy it. Among whom, if ever -any were in necessity, found it most precious, and thereby received no -small contentment, I am one of them; because from my verie yongest -yeeres, even untill this instant: mine affections became extraordinarily -enflamed, in a place high and Noble, more (perhaps) then beseemed -my humble condition, albeit no way distasted in the judgement of -such as were discreete, when it came truly to their knowledge and -understanding. Yet (indeed) it was very painfull for me to endure, -not in regard of her cruelty, whom I so deerely loved; as for want of -better government in mine owne carriage; being altogether swayed by -rash and peevish passions, which made my afflictions more offensive to -mee, then either wisedome allowed, or suited with my private particular. - -But, as counsell in misery is no meane comfort, so the good advice of a -worthy friend, by many sound and singular perswasions, wrought such a -deliberate alteration; as not onely preserved my life (which was before -in extreame perill) but also gave conclusion to my inconsiderate love, -which in my precedent refractarie carriage, no deliberation, counsell, -evident shame, or whatsoever 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 delivering me likewise from -infinite perplexities. - -And because the acknowledgement of good turnes or courtesies received -(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 releeved me, because their -owne better understanding, 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 availe the -common needie, yet (methinkes) where greefe is greatest, and calamity -most insulteth; there ought to be our paines soundly imployed, and our -gravest instructions and advise wholly administred. - -And who can deny, but that it is much more convenient, to commisserate -the distresse of Ladies and Gentlewomen, then the more able condition -of men? They, as being naturally bashfull and timorous, have 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 have bin subject to the greatest proofe. Moreover, they being -restrained from their wils and desires, by the severity of Fathers, -Mothers, Bretheren, and Husbands, are shut up (most part of their time) -in their Chambers, where constrainedly sitting idle, diversity of -straunge cogitations wheele up and downe their braines, forging as many -severall imaginations, which cannot be alwayes pleasant and contenting. -If melancholly, incited by some amorous or lovely apprehension, -oppresse their weake and unresisting hearts: they must be glad to beare -it patiently (til by better Fortune) such occasions happen, as may -overcome so proud an usurpation. - -Moreover, we cannot but confesse, that they are lesse able, then men, -to support such oppressions: for if men grow affectionate, wee plainely -perceive, when any melancholly troublesome thoughts, or what greefes -else can any way concerne them, their soules are not subject 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 have a particular power in themselves, 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 love, and -thereby are most in neede of comfort (and not they that can handle the -Needle, Wheele, and Distaffe) I have provided an hundred Novelles, -Tales, Fables, or Histories, with judicious moralles belonging to them, -for your more delight, and queinter exercise. In a faire and worthy -assembly, of seven 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 severall day. - -In which pleasing Novels, may be observed many strange accidents of -Love, and other notable adventures, happening as well in our times, as -those of graver antiquity: by reading whereof, you may receyve both -pleasure and profitable counsell, because in them you shal perceive, -both the sin to be shunned, and the vertue to be embraced; which -as I wholly hate the one, so I do (and ever will) honour the others -advancement. - - - - -_The Table._ - - -The Epistle Dedicatory. - - -The Authors Prologue, to the Lords, Ladies, and Gentlewomen. - - -The First Day, Governed by Madam Pampinea. - - -1. Novell. - -_Messire Chappelet du Prat, by making a -false confession, beguiled an holy religious -man, and after dyed. And having during -his life time, bene a very bad man, at his death -was reputed to be a Saint, and called S. Chappelet._ - - -2. Novell. - -_Abraham a Jew, beeing admonished or advised -by a friend of his, named Jehannot de Chevigny, -travailed from Paris unto Rome: And beholding -there, the wicked behaviour of men in the -Church, returned to Paris againe, where (neverthelesse) -he became a Christian._ - - -3. Novell. - -_Melchisedech a Jewe, by recounting a tale of -three Rings, to the great Soldan, named Saladine, -prevented a great danger which was prepared -for him._ - - -4. Novell. - -_A monke having committed an offence, deserving -to be very greevously punished; freed himselfe -from the paine to be inflicted on him, by wittily reprehending -his Abbot, with the very same fault._ - - -5. Novell. - -_Lady Marquesse of Montferrat, with a Banket -of Hens, and divers other gracious speeches beside, -repressed the fond love of the King of France._ - - -6. Novell. - -_An honest plaine meaning man (simply & conscionably) -reprehended the malignity, hypocrisie, -and misdemeanour of many religious persons._ - - -7. Novell. - -_Bergamino, by telling a Tale of a skilfull man, -named Primasso, and of an Abbot of Clugni; -honestly checked a new kinde of covetousnesse, in -Master Can de la Scala._ - - -8. Novell. - -_Guillaume Boursieur, with a few quaint & familiar -words, checkt the miserable covetousness -of Signior Herminio de Grimaldi._ - - -9. Novell. - -_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. Novell. - -_Master Albert of Bullen, honestly made a Lady -to blush, that thought to have done as much -to him, because she perceived him to be amorously -affected towardes her._ - - -The second Day, governed by -Madam Philomena. - - -1. Novell. - -_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 recovery: but when his dissimulation -was discovered, he was well beaten, being -afterward taken prisoner, and in great danger -of being hanged and strangled by the necke, and -yet escaped in the end._ - - -2. Novell. - -_Rinaldo de Este, after he was robbed by theeves -arrived at Chasteau Guillaume, where he was -friendly lodged by a faire Widow, and recompenced -likewise for all his losses; returning afterward -safe and well home unto his owne house._ - - -3. Novell. - -_Of three yong Gentlemen, being Brethren, and -having spent all their Landes and possessions -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 Unckles losses, and seating them again -in good estate._ - - -4. Novell. - -_Landolpho Ruffolo, falling into poverty, became -a Pirate on the Seas, and beeing taken by the -Genewayes, hardly escaped drowning: Which yet -(neverthelesse) he did, upon a little chest or coffer -full of very rich Jewels, beeing carried thereon to -Corfu, where he was well entertained by a good -woman: and afterward, returned richly home to -his owne house._ - - -5. Novell. - -_Andrea de Piero, travelling from Perouse unto -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. Novell. - -_Madame Beritola Caracalla, was found in an -Island with two Goates, having lost her two -sons, and thence travailed into Lunigiana: where -one of her Sonnes became servant to the Lord thereof, -and was found some-what over-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. Novell. - -_The Soldane of Babylon sent one of his Daughters, -to be joyned in marriage with the King of -Cholcos; who by divers accidents (in the space of -foure yeares) happened into the custodie of nine -men, and in sundry places. At length, being restored -back 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. Novell. - -_Count D'Angiers being falsely accused, was banished -out of France, and left his two children -in England in divers places. Returning afterward -(unknowne) thorough Scotland, hee found them -advanced unto great dignity: Then, repairing in -the habit of a Servitor, into the King of Fraunce -his army, and his innocency made publikely knowen, -he was reseated in his former honourable degree._ - - -9. Novell. - -_Bernardo, a Merchant of Geneway, being deceived -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 servant to the Soldan. -The deceiver being found at last, she compassed such -means, that her husband Bernardo came into Alexandria, -and there after due punishment inflicted -on the false deceiver, she resumed the garments -againe of a woman, and returned home with her -Husband to Geneway._ - - -10. Novell. - -_Pagamino da Monaco, a roving Pyrate on the -seas, caried away the faire Wife of Signieur -Ricciardo di Chinzica, who understanding where -shee was, went thither; and falling into friendship -with Pagamino, demanded his wife of him; whereto -he yeelded, provided, that she would willingly go -away with him: shee denied to part thence with -her husband, and Signior Ricciardo dying, shee became -the wife of Pagamino._ - - -The third day, governed by Madame -_Neiphila_. - - -1. Novell. - -_Massetto di Lamporechio, by counterfetting -himselfe dumbe, became a Gardiner in a -Monastery of Nuns, where he had familiar -conversation with them all._ - - -2. Novell. - -_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 discovered by -the King, and the party knowne, hee gave him a -marke, by shearing the hair 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. Novell. - -_Under colour of confession and of a most pure conscience, -a faire yong Gentlewoman, being amorously -affected to an honest man; induced a devout -and solemne religious Friar, to advise her in the -meanes (without his suspition or perceiving) how to -enjoy the benefit of her friend, and bring her desires -to their full effect._ - - -4. Novell. - -_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 favour of -his daughter._ - - -5. Novell. - -_Ricciardo, surnamed the Magnifico, gave a horse -to signior Francesco Vergellisi, upon condition; -that by his leave 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. Novell. - -_Ricciardo Minutolo fel in love with the Wife of -Philippello Fighinolfi, and knowing her to bee -very jealous of her husband, gave her to understand, -that he was greatly enamored of his Wife, -and had appointed to meete her privatly 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 deceived by the said -Ricciardo._ - - -7. Novell. - -_Thebaldo Elisei, having received an unkinde repulse -by his beloved, 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 unto her. Hee delivered -her husband from the danger of death, because it -was proved that he had slaine Thebaldo, he made -peace with his brethren, and in the end, wisely enjoyed -his hearts desire._ - - -8. Novell. - -_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 grave, -and put into a darke prison, where they made him -beleeve that he was in purgatory: afterward when -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. Novell. - -_Juliet of Narbona, cured the King of France of a -dangerous Fistula: in recompence whereof, she requested -to enjoy as her husband in mariage, Bertrand -the Count of Roussillion. He having maried -her against his wil, as utterly despising her, went -to Florence, where he made love to a yong Gentlewoman. -Juliet, 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 -unto the Count, hee accepted her into his favour againe, -and loved her as his loyall and honourable -wife._ - - -10. Novell. - -_The wonderfull and chaste resolved continencie -of faire Serictha, daughter to Siwalde King of -Denmarke, who beeing sought and sued unto by -many worthy persons, that did affect her dearely, -would not looke any man in the face, untill such -time as she was maried._ - - -The Fourth Day, governed by -Philostratus. - - -1. Novell. - -_Tancrede, Prince of Salerne, 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. Novell. - -_Friar Albert made a yong Venetian Gentlewoman -beleeve, that God Cupid was falne in love -with her, and he resorted oftentimes unto 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 savage man, he was -brought upon the Rialto of S. Mark, & being there -publikely knowne by the Brethren of his Order, he -was committed to prison._ - - -3. Novell. - -_Three yong Gentlemen affecting three Sisters, -fled with them into Canaie. The eldest of them -(through jealousie) becommeth the death of her -Lover. The second, by consenting to the Duke of -Canaies request, is the meanes of saving 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 confesse -the fact: and fearing death, by corruption of money -they prevaile with their keepers, escaping from -thence to Rhodes, where they died in great poverty._ - - -4. Novell. - -_Gerbino, contrarie to the former plighted faith -of his Grandfather King Gulielmo, soughte -with a ship at sea belonging to the King of Thunis -to take away his daughter, who was then in the -same ship. She being slaine by them that had the -possession of her, he likewise slew them; and afterward -had his owne head smitten off._ - - -5. Novell. - -_The three Brethren to Isabella, slew a Gentleman -that secretly loved 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 -herbes are usually set in, she watered it (a long -while) with her teares: whereof her Brethren having -intelligence; soone after she died, with meere -conceite of sorrow._ - - -6. Novell. - -_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 unto -her; whereupon Gabriello fell down sodainly dead. -She, and her Chamber-maid were apprehended by -the Officers belonging unto 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 understanding of her Father, who approved -the innocence of his daughter, and compassed her -deliverance. But she afterward, being wearie of -all worldly felicities, entred into Religion, & became -a Nun._ - - -7. Novell. - -_Faire Simonida affecting Pasquino, and walking -with him in a pleasant garden, it fortuned -that Pasquino rubbed his teeth with a leaf of -Sage, and immediately fell downe dead. Simonida -being brought before the bench of Justice, and -charged with the death of Pasquino: she rubbed -her teeth likewise, with one of the leaves of the -same Sage, as declaring what she saw him do, & -thereon she dyed also in the same manner._ - - -8. Novell. - -_Jeronimo affecting a yong Mayden named Silvestra -was constrained by the earnest importunity -of his Mother, to take a journey to Paris. At -his returne home from thence againe, he found his -love Silvestra maried. By secret meanes he got entrance -into her house and dyed upon the bed lying -by her. Afterward, his body being caried unto the -Church to receive buriall, shee likewise died there -instantly upon his coarse._ - - -9. Novell. - -_Messer Guiglielmo of Rossiglione having slaine -Messer Guiglielmo Guardastagno, whom he imagined -to love his wife, gave 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. Novell. - -_A Physitians wife laid a Lover of her maids, supposing -him to be dead, in a chest, by reason that -he had drunke water which usually was given to -procure a sleepy entrancing. Two Lombard Usurers, -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 Justice, accuseth her self for putting -the imagined dead body into the chest, whereby -he escaped hanging: and the Theeves which -stole away the chest, were condemned to pay a very -great summe of money._ - - -The Fift day, Governed by Madame -Fiammetta. - - -1. Novell. - -_Chynon, by falling in love, became wise, and -by force of Armes, winning his faire Ladye -Iphigenia on the seas, was afterward imprisoned -at Rhodes. Being delivered by one name Lysimachus -with him he recovered his Iphigenia againe, -and faire Cassandra even 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. Novell. - -_Faire Constance of Liparis, fell in Love with -Martuccio Gomito: and hearing that hee was -dead, desperately she entred into a Barke which -being transported by the winds to Susa in Barbary, -from thence she went to Thunis, where she found -him to be living. There she made her selfe knowne -to him, and he being in great authority, as a privy -Counsellor to the King: he maried the saide Constance, -and returned richly home to her, to the Island -of Liparis._ - - -3. Novell. - -_Pedro Bocamazzo, escaping away with a yong -Damosel which he loved, named Angelina, met -with Theeves in his journey. The Damosel flying -fearfully into a Forest, by chaunce commeth to a -Castle. Pedro being taken by the theeves, & hapning -afterward to escape from them, accidentally -came to the same Castle where Angelina was: & -marying her, they then returned home to Rome._ - - -4. Novell. - -_Ricciardo Manardy, was found by Messer Lizio -da Valbonna, as he sat fast asleep at his daughters -chamber window, having his hand fast in hirs -and sleeping in the same manner. Whereupon they -were joyned together in mariage, and their long -loyall love mutually recompenced._ - - -5. Novell. - -_Guidotto of Cremona, departing out of this mortall -life, left a daughter of his with Jacomino -of Pavia. Giovanni di Severino, and Menghino da -Minghole, fel both in love with the yong Maiden, -and fought for her; who being afterward knowne -to be the sister to Giovanni, shee was given in mariage -to Menghino._ - - -6. Novell. - -_Guion di Procida, being found familiarly conversing -with a yong Damosel which he loved, -and had bene given formerly to Frederigo King of -Sicily: was bound to a stake to bee consumed with -fire. From which danger (neverthelesse) hee escaped; -being knowne by Don Rogiero de Oria, Lorde -Admirall of Sicily, and afterward marryed the -Damosel._ - - -7. Novell. - -_Theodoro falling in love with Violenta, the -daughter to his Master, named Amarigo, and -she conceyving with childe by him, was condemned -to be hanged. As they were leading him unto the -gallowes, beating and misusing him all the way: -hee happened to bee knowne by his owne Father, -whereupon he was released, and afterward injoyed -Violenta in mariage._ - - -8. Novell. - -_Anastasio, a Gentleman of the Family of the -Honesti by loving the daughter to Signior Paulo -Traversario, lavishly wasted a great part of -his substance, without receiving any love 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 -gave her to be devoured by his hounds. Anastasio -invited his friends, and hers also whom he so -dearly loved, to take part of a dinner with him, -who likewise sawe the same Damosell so torne in -peeces: which his unkind love perceiving, & fearing -least the like ill fortune should happen to her, -she accepted Anastasio to bee her husband._ - - -9. Novell. - -_Frederigo, of the Alberighi Family, loved a -Gentlewoman, and was not requited with like -love againe. By bountifull expences, and over liberal -invitations, hee wasted and consumed all his -lands and goods, having nothing lefte him, but a -Hawke or Faulcon. His unkinde Mistresse, happeneth -to come visit him, and he not having 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. Novell. - -_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 loved, at supper with her. -Pedro returning home upon a sodaine, the young -man was hidden under a Coope for Hens. Pedro, -in excuse of his so soone coming home, declareth; -how in the house of Herculano (with whome hee -should have supt) a friend of his wives was found, -which was the reason of the suppers breaking off. -Pedroes wife reproving the error of Herculanoes -wife: an Asse (by chance) treades on the young -mans fingers that lay hidden under the Henne-Coope. -Upon his crying out, Pedro steppeth thither, -sees him, knowes him, and findeth the fallacie of -his wife: with whom (neverthelesse) 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, upon what occasion it -hapned, that the persons (of whom we shall speake heereafter) should -thus meete together, to make so queint a Narration of Novels: Hee -declareth unto you, that they first begin to devise and conferre, under -the government 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 observe -respectively, how naturally you are enclined to compassion; as many -times do I acknowledge, that this present worke of mine, will (in your -judgement) appeare to have but a harsh and offensive beginning, in -regard of the mournfull remembrance it beareth at the verie entrance -of the last Pestilentiall mortality, universally 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 wish, that so fearefull a -beginning, should seeme but as an high and steepy hill appeares to them, -that attempt to travell farre on foote, and ascending the same with -some difficulty, come afterward to walk upon a goodly even plaine, -which causeth the more contentment in them, because the attaining -thereto was hard and painfull. For, even as pleasures are cut off by -griefe and anguish; so sorrowes cease by joyes most sweete and happie -arriving. - -After this breefe molestation, 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 (peradventure) could not bee expected by such a beginning, if -promise stoode not thereunto engaged. And indeed, if I could wel have -conveyed you to the center of my desire, by any other way, then so -rude and rocky a passage as this is, I would gladly have 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 (even as constrained thereto -by meere necessity) in writing after this manner. - -The yeare of our blessed Saviours 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 just anger of God was sent upon us -mortals. Some few yeeres before, it tooke beginning in the Easterne -partes, sweeping thence an innumerable quantity of living soules: -extending it selfe afterward from place to place Westward, untill it -seized on the said City. Where neither humane skill or providence, -could use any prevention, notwithstanding it was cleansed of many -annoyances, by diligent Officers thereto deputed: besides prohibition -of all sickly persons enterance, and all possible provision dayly used -for conservation of such as were in health, with incessant prayers and -supplications of devoute 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 divers admirable effects; yet not as it had done in the -East Countries, where Lord or Lady being touched therewith, manifest -signes of inevitable death followed thereon, by bleeding at the nose. -But here it began with yong children, male and female, either under -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 divers 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 everie 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 prooved 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 proceeded, and -so by consequent, no resolution was to be determined. Moreover, beside -the number of such as were skilfull in Art, many more both women and -men, without ever having 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 Feaver, 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 used in his service, seemed to -transferre the disease from the sicke to the sound, in very rare and -miraculous manner. Among which matter of marvell, 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 beleeve 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, even 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 have said) among divers other, one day -had evident 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 every dung-hill, tossed and -tumbled the cloathes with their snouts, rubbing their heads likewise -uppon 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 divers feares and imaginations in them that beheld -them, all tending to a most inhumane and uncharitable 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 themselves, that living soberly, -with abstinence from all superfluity; it would be a sufficient -resistance against all hurtfull accidents. So combining themselves in -a sociable manner, they lived as separatists from all other company, -being shut up in such houses, where no sicke body should be neere them. -And there, for their more security, they used delicate viands and -excellent wines, avoiding 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 having musicall instruments, -lived there in all possible pleasure. Others were of a contrary -opinion, who avouched, that there was no other physicke more certaine, -for a disease so desperate, then to drinke hard, be merry among -themselves, singing continually, walking every where, and satisfying -their appetites with whatsoever they desired, laughing, and mocking at -every mournefull accident, and so they vowed to spend day and night: -for now they would goe to one Taverne, then to another, living without -any rule or measure; which they might very easilie doe, because every -one of them, (as if he were to live no longer in this World) had even -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 adventure it) even as boldly as the Lord or owner, -without any let or contradiction. - -Yet in all this their beastly behaviour, 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 -divine as humane, was even 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 lived so solitary, in such great necessity of -servants and attendants, as they could not execute any office, whereby -it was lawfull for every 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 used all things sufficient -for their appetites, and without shutting up themselves, walked -abroade, some carrying sweete nose-gayes of flowers in their hands; -others odoriferous herbes, and others divers 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 savours. Some other there -were also of more inhumane minde (howbeit peradventure 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 moving them, and caring for no body but themselves, 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 heavily upon none, but such as were enclosed -within the City wals; or else perswading themselves, that not any one -should there be left alive, but that the finall ending of all things -was come. - -Now albeit these persons in their diversity of opinions died not all, -so undoubtedly 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 us omit, that one Citizen fled -after another, and one neighbour had not any care of another, Parents -nor kinred never visiting them, but utterly they were forsaken on all -sides: this tribulation pierced into the hearts of men, and with such -a dreadfull terror, that one Brother forsooke another; the Unkle 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, even 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 subjected to the avarice of servants, -who attended them constrainedly, for great and unreasonable 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 understanding, who -never before had served in any such necessities, nor indeed were any -way else to be imployed, but to give the sicke person such things as he -called for, or to awaite the houre of his death; in the performance of -which services, oftentimes for gaine, they lost their owne lives. - -In this extreame calamity, the sicke being thus forsaken of neighbours, -kinred, and friends, standing also in such need of servants; a custome -came up among them, never heard of before, that there was not any -woman, how noble, young, or faire soever shee was, but falling sicke, -shee must of necessity have a man to attend her, were he young or -otherwise, respect of shame or modesty no way prevailing, but all parts -of her body must be discovered to him, which (in the like urgency) -was not to be seene by any but women: whereon ensued afterward, that -upon the parties healing and recovery, 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 convenient -remedies, (which the sicke by no meanes could attain unto) 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 necesssity (among them that remained -living) begat new behaviours, quite contrary to all which had beene in -former times, and frequently used 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 having any women about them, but -infinites also past out of this life, not having any witnesse, how, -when, or in what manner they departed. So that few or none there were, -to deliver outward shew of sorrow and grieving: but insteed thereof, -divers declared idle joy and rejoycing, a use soone learned of immodest -women, having put off al feminine compassion, yea, or regard of their -owne welfare. - -Very few also would accompany the body to the grave, and they not -any of the Neighbours, although it had beene an honourable Cittizen, -but onely the meanest kinde of people, such as were grave-makers, -coffin-bearers, or the like, that did these services 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, having some foure or sixe poore Priests -following, with lights or no lights, and those of the silliest; short -service being said at the buriall, and the body unreverently throwne -into the first open grave they found. Such was the pittifull misery of -poore people, and divers, who were of better condition, as it was most -lamentable to behold; because the greater number of them, under hope of -healing, or compelled by poverty, kept still within their houses weake -and faint, thousands falling sick daily, and having 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 lives perished, -rather by the noysome smell of dead and putrified bodies, then by any -violence of the disease in themselves. So that of these and the rest, -dying in this manner every where, the neighbours observed one course -of behaviour, (moved thereto no lesse by feare, that the smell and -corruption of dead bodies should harme them, then charitable respect of -the dead) that themselves when they could, or being assisted by some -bearers of coarses, when they were able to procure them, 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 have the helpe of Bieres, were glad to lay them -on tables, and Bieres have bin observed, 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, have thus beene carried along to the grave -upon one Biere. - -Moreover, 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 have made up the -advantage, 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, even in their greatest height: not onely the wise might -now learne, but also the verie simplest people; & in such sort, that -they should alwaies be prepared against all infelicities whatsoever. - -Hallowed ground could not now suffice, for the great multitude of dead -bodies, which were daily brought to every Church in the City, and -every houre in the day; neither could the bodies have proper place of -buriall, according to our ancient custome: wherefore, after that the -churches and Church-yards were filled, they were constrained to make -use of great deepe ditches, wherein they were buried by hundreds at -once, ranking dead bodies along in graves, as Merchandizes are laide -along in ships, covering each after other with a small quantity of -earth, & so they filled at last up the whole ditch to the brim. - -Now, because I would wander no further in everie particularity, -concerning the miseries happening in our Citie: I tell you, that -extremities running on in such manner as you have 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 servants; & 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 -endeavours, even like to our Citizens; not minding or medling with their -wonted affaires: but, as awaiting for death every houre, imployed all -their paines, not in caring any way for themselves, their cattle, or -gathering the fruits of the earth, or any of their accustomed labours; -but rather wasted and consumed, even 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 servants 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 fore-said beasts (as endued with reason) after they -had pastured themselves in the day time, would returne full fed at -night home to their houses, without any government 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 servant? 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, Hippocrates,_ -and _Æsculapius_ (if they were living) could have reputed any way -unhealthfull; 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 understoode 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 divine Service, -in mourning habits (as the season required) returned thence seven -discreet yong Gentlewomen, all allyed together, either by friendship, -neighbour-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 behaviour, and gracious modesty. - -Their names I could report, if just 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 revealed) -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 -(over-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 them 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 _Fiammetta_; the third _Philomena_; the -fourth _Æmilia_; 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 divers sighs severally delivered, they conferred on sundry -matters answerable to the sad qualitie of the time, and within a while -after, Madam _Pampinea_ began in this manner. - -Faire Ladies, you may (no doubt as well as I) have often heard, that -no injury is offered to any one, by such as make use but of their owne -right. It is a thing naturall for everie one which is borne in this -World, to aide, conserve, 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 themselves) men have beene slaine -without any offence: yet Lawes have allowed it to be so, in whose -solicitude lieth the best living of all mortals. How much more honest -and just is it then for us, and for every other well-disposed person, -to seeke for (without wronging any) and to practise all remedies that -wee can, for the conservation of our lives? When I well consider, -what we have heere done this morning, and many other already past; -remembring (withall) what likewise is proper and convenient for us: -I conceive (as all you may do the like) that everie one of us hath a -due respect of her selfe, and then I mervaile not, but rather am much -amazed (knowing none of us to be deprived of a Womans best judgement) -that wee seeke not after some remedies for our selves, against that, -which every one among us, 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 graves; or else to listen, when the religious Sisters -here dwelling (whose number now are well-neere come to be none at all) -sing Service 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 offensive -fury) such as (by authoritie of publike Lawes) were banished hence, -onely for their bad and brutish behaviour 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 themselves to us, -by the base rascality of the Citie; who being fatted with our blood, -tearme themselves Grave-makers, and in meere contemptible mockerie of -us, are mounted on horse-backe, gallopping everie where, reproaching -us with our losses and misfortunes, with lewd and dishonest songs: so -that we can hear nothing else but such and such are dead, and such and -such lie a dying; heere hands wringing, and everie 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 wheresoever I go or sit -downe, me thinkes I see the ghostes and shadowes of deceased friends, -not with such lovely lookes as I was wont to behold them, but with most -horrid and dreadfull regards, newly stolne upon 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 having meanes or place of retirement, as all we -have, and none to remaine heere but onely we. - -Moreover, I have often heard it said, that in tarrying or departing, no -distinction is made in things honest or dishonest; onely appetite will -be served; and be they alone or in company, by day or night, they do -whatsoever their appetite desireth: not secular persons onely, but such -as are recluses, and shut up within Monasteries, breaking the Lawes of -obedience, and being addicted to pleasures of the flesh, are become -lascivious and dissolute, making the world beleeve, that whatsoever is -convenient for other women, is no way unbeseeming 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 selves lesse precious then all the other? Or do we beleeve, 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 -us? Wee erre therein, and are deceived. What brutishnesse were it in -us, if wee should urge any such beleefe? So often as wee call to minde, -what, and how many gallant yong men and women, have beene devoured by -this cruell pestilence; wee may evidently observe a contrary argument. - -Wherefore, to the end, that by being over-scrupulous and carelesse, we -fall not into such danger, whence when we would (perhaps) we cannot -recover our selves by any meanes: I thinke it meete (if your judgement -therein shall jumpe with mine) that all of us as we are (at least, if -we will doe as divers before us have done, and yet daily endeavour -to doe) shunning death by the honest example of other, make our -retreate to our Countrey houses, wherewith all of us are sufficiently -furnished, and thereto delight our selves 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 waving in the field like the billowes of the -Sea; infinite store of goodly trees, and the Heavens more fairely open -to us, then here we can behold them: And although they are justly -displeased, yet will they not there denie us better beauties to gaze -on, then the walles in our City (emptied of Inhabitants) can affoord us. - -Moreover, the Ayre is much fresh and cleere, and generally, there is -farre greater abundance of all things whatsoever, needefull at this -time for preservation of our health, and lesse offence or molestation -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 observe it, here wee forsake no particular person, but -rather wee may tearme our selves forsaken; in regard that our Husbands, -Kinred, and Friends, either dying, or flying from the dead, have left -us alone in this great affliction, even as if we were no way belonging -unto 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 us, and (as -this day) betake our selves to one place, to morrow to another, taking -there such pleasure and recreation, as so sweete a season liberally -bestoweth on us. In which manner we may remaine, till we see (if death -otherwise prevent us not) what ende the gracious Heavens have reserved -for us. I would have you also to consider, that it is no lesse seemely -for us to part hence honestly, then a great number of other Women to -remaine here immodestly. - -The other Ladies and Gentlewomen, having heard Madam _Pampinea_, not -onely commended her counsell, but desiring also to put it in execution; -had already particularly consulted with themselves, by what means they -might instantly depart from thence. Neverthelesse, Madam _Philomena_, -who was very wise, spake thus. - -Albeit faire Ladies, the case propounded by Madam _Pampinea_ hath -beene very wel delivered; yet (for all that) it is against reason for -us to rush on, as we are over-ready to doe. Remember that we are all -women, and no one among us is so childish, but may consider, that when -wee shall be so assembled together, without providence or conduct of -some man, we can hardly governe our selves. We are fraile, offensive, -suspicious, weake spirited, and fearefull: in regard of which -imperfections, I greatly doubt (if we have no better direction then our -owne) this society will sooner dissolve it selfe, and (perchance) with -lesse honour to us, then if we never had begunne it. And therefore it -shall be expedient for us, to provide 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 living, some be dispearsed here, others there, into divers places -and companies, where we have no knowledge of their being. And to accept -of strangers, would seeme very inconvenient; wherefore as we have -such care of our health, so should wee be as respective (withall) in -ordering our intention: that wheresoever wee aime at our pleasure and -contentment, reproofe and scandall may by no meanes pursue us. - -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 five and twenty yeeres) in whom, neither malice of -the time, loss of friends or kinred, nor any fearefull conceit in -themselves, 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 seaven, and the rest kinne -unto them in one degree or other. No sooner were these Ladies espyed -by them, but they met with them also in the same advantage; whereupon -Madam _Pampinea_ (amiably smiling) saide. - -See how graciously Fortune is favourable to our beginning, by -presenting our eyes with three so wise and worthy young Gentlemen, who -will gladly be our guides and servants, if we doe not disdaine them -the office. Madam _Neiphila_ beganne immediatly to blush, because one -of them had a love 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 us, 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 us: I -feare, if wee should make the motion, that some dishonour or reproofe -may ensue thereby, and yet without blame either in us or them. That is -nothing at all, answered Madam _Philomena_, let mee live 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 journey. - -The other Ladies hearing them speake in such manner, not onely were -silent to themselves, 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 them, as they stood -respectively observing them; and (with a pleasing countenance) giving -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 perceived, that her -words tended to solemne earnest; they made answer, that they were -all heartily ready to doe them any service. And without any further -delaying, before they parted thence, tooke order for their aptest -furnishing with all convenient 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, having three servants to waite -on them; left the City to beginne their journey, and having travelled -about a leagues distance, arrived 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, -having a large and spacious Court in the middest, round engirt with -galleries, hals and chambers, every one separate alone by themselves, -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 flowers, which could not but give them the greater contentment. -_Dioneus_, who (above the other) was a pleasant young gallant, and -full of infinite witty conceits, saide; Your wit (faire Ladies) hath -better guided us hither, then our providence. I know not how you have -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 give me leave to -goe seeke my sorrowes againe, and so to remaine discontented in our -desolate City. Madam _Pampinea_ having in like manner shaken off her -sorrowes, delivering a modest and bashfull smile, replied in this -manner. - -_Dioneus_, well have you spoken, it is fit to live merrily, and no -other occasion made us forsake the sicke and sad Citie. But, because -such things as are without meane or measure, are subject 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 -convenient, that wee should all agree, to have one chiefe commaunder -among us, in whom the care and providence should consist, for direction -of our merriment, performing honour and obedience to the party, as -to our Patrone and sole Governour. And because every one may feele -the burthen of sollicitude, as also the pleasure of commaunding, and -consequently have a sensible taste of both, whereby no envie may arise -on any side: I could wish, that each one of us (for a day onely) should -feele both the burthen and honour, and the person so to be advanced, -shall receive it from the election of us 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 divers -branches, she made of them an apparant and honourable Chaplet, placing -it (by generall consent) upon 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 servants, and the -waiting women also (being foure in number) to be brought before her, -thus shee began. Because I am to give the first example to you all, -whereby (proceeding on from good to better) our company may live in -order and pleasure, acceptable to all, and without shame to any: I -create _Parmeno_ (servant to _Dioneus_) Maister of the Houshold, hee -taking the care and charge of all our trayne, and for whatsoever -appertaineth to our Hall service. I appoint also that _Silisco_ -(servant to _Pamphilus_) shall be our Dispencer and Treasurer, -performing that which _Parmeno_ shall commaund him. And that _Tindaro_ -serve 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 serve continually in the Kitchin, and diligently make ready such -vyands, as shall be delivered them by _Parmeno. Chimera_, wayting-woman -to _Lauretta_, and _Stratilia_ (appertaining to _Fiammetta_) shall have -the charge and governement of the Ladies Chambers, and preparing all -places where we shall be present. Moreover, we will and commaund every -one of them (as they desire to deserve our grace) that wheresoever they -goe or come, or whatsoever they heare or see: they especially respect -to bring us tydings of them. After shee had summarily delivered them -these orders, very much commended of every one; shee arose fairely, -saying. Heere wee have Gardens, Orchards, Meadowes, and other places of -sufficient pleasure, where every one may sport & recreate themselves: -but so soone as the ninth houre striketh, then all to meete here -againe, to dine in the coole shade. - -This jocund company having received licence from their Queene to -disport themselves, the Gentlemen walked with the Ladies into a goodly -Garden, making Chaplets and Nosegayes of divers flowers, and singing -silently to themselves. 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 covered with delicate white naperie, and the -Glasses looking like silver, they were so transparantly cleare, all the -roome beside streawed with floures of Juniper. When the Queene and all -the rest had washed; according as _Parmeno_ gave order, so every one -was seated at the Table: the vyands (delicately drest) were served in, -and excellent wines plentifully delivered, none attending but the three -servants, 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 divers -instruments should be brought, and (as she gave 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 (having sent their attending servants -to dinner) paced foorth a daunce very majestically. And when the daunce -was ended, they sung sundry excellent Canzonets, out-wearing so the -time, untill the Queene commaunded them all to rest, because the houre -did necessarily require it. The Gentlemen having their Chambers farre -severed from the Ladies, curiously strewed with flowers, and their -beds adorned in exquisite manner, as those of the Ladies were not a -jote 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 overmuch 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 over-violently, because the shades of faire -spreading trees gave 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 us, and therefore 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 advice 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 us, a tale or fable related by some one, -to urge the attention of all the rest. And so wearing out the warmth -of the day, one prety Novell will draw on another, until the Sun be -lower declined, and the heates extremity more diminished, to solace -our selves in some other place, as to our minds shal seeme convenient. -If therefore what I have 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 Evening, I think we can devise no exercise more -commodious for us. - -The Ladies & Gentlemen allowed of the motion, to spend the time in -telling pleasant tales; whereupon the Queene saide: Seeing you have -approoved mine advice, I grant free permission for this first day, -that every one shall relate, what to him or her is best pleasing. And -turning her selfe to _Pamphilus_ (who was seated on her right hand) -gave him favour, with one of his Novels, to begin the recreation: which -he not daring to deny, and perceiving 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 having (during his life time) -bene a verie bad man, at his death was reputed to be a Saint, and -called S. Chappelet._ - - -The first Novell. - -_Wherein is contained, how hard a thing it is, to distinguish goodnesse -from hypocrisie; and how (under the shadow of holinesse) the wickednes -of one man, may deceive many._ - - -It is a matter most convenient (deare Ladies) that a man ought to -begin whatsoever 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 invention of discoursing Novelties: 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 ever to be praised by us. Now, as -there is nothing more certaine, but that even as temporall things are -mortall and transitory, so are they both in and out of themselves, -full of sorrow, paine, and anguish, and subjected to infinite dangers: -So in the same manner, we live mingled among them, seeming as part of -them, and cannot (without some error) continue or defend ourselves, -if God by his especiall grace and favour, give us not strength and -good understanding. Which power we may not beleeve, that either it -descendeth to us, or liveth in us, by any merites of our owne; but of -his onely most gracious benignity. Mooved neverthelesse, and entreated -by the intercessions of them, who were (as we are) mortals; and having -diligently observed his commandements, are now with him in eternall -blessednes. To whom (as to advocates and procurators, informed by the -experience of our frailty) wee are not to present our prayers in the -presence of so great a Judge; but only to himselfe, for the obtaining -of all such things as his wisedome knoweth to be most expedient for -us. And well may we credit, that his goodnesse is more fully enclined -towards us, in his continuall bounty and liberality; then the subtilty -of any mortal eye, can reach into the secret of so divine a thought: -and sometimes therefore we may be beguiled in opinion, by electing such -and such as our intercessors before his high Majesty, who perhaps are -farre off from him, or driven into perpetuall exile, as unworthy 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 -devotion, committed to the trust of a heedlesse intercessor; and such -prayers have alwaies gracious acceptation in his sight. As manifestly -will appeare, by the Novell which I intend to relate; manifestly (I -say) not as in the judgement of God, but according to the apprehension -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 was desired and incited to come thither by -Pope _Boniface_) found his affaires greatly intricated here and there -(as oftentimes the matters of Merchants fall out to bee) and that very -hardly hee should sodainly unintangle them, without referring the -charge of them to divers persons. And for all he tooke indifferent -good order, onely he remained doubtfull, whom he might sufficiently -leave, to recover 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 soever he was) in whom he might repose trust to meete -with their lewdnesse. Having a long while examined his thoughts upon -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 handsome 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 every 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 soever hee dealt withall, he would be -urged and required thereto, offering them his paines and travaile for -nothing, but to be requited otherwise then by money; which prooved 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 given to an oath, he making no care or conscience to -be perjured: greatly advantaged himselfe by Law suites, in regard that -many matters relyed upon his oath, and delivering 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 never would make deniall, but go to it very willingly; and divers -times it was wel knowen, that many were cruelly beaten, ye slaine by -his hands. Hee was a most horrible blasphemer of God and his Saints, -upon the very least occasion, as being more addicted to choller, -then any other man could be. Never would he frequent the Church, but -basely contemned it, with the Sacraments and religious rites therein -administred, accounting them for vile and unprofitable things: but -very voluntarily would visit Tavernes, and other places of dishonest -accesse, which were continually pleasing unto him, to satisfie his -lust and inordinate lubricitie. Hee would steale both in publike and -private, even with such a conscience, as if it were given to him by -nature so to do. He was a great glutton and a drunkarde, even 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 never was there a worse man borne; whose wickednesse was for -long time supported, by the favour, power, and Authoritie of Monsieur -_Musciatto_, for whose sake many wrongs and injuries were patiently -endured, as well by private persons (whom hee would abuse notoriously) -as others of the Court, betweene 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 behaviour) he perfectly -perswaded himselfe, that this was a man apt in all respects, to meete -with the treachery of the Burgundians: whereupon, having sent for him, -thus he beganne. - -_Chappelet_, thou knowest how I am wholly to retreate my selfe from -hence, and having some affaires among the Burgundians, men full of -wickednesse and deceite; I can bethinke my selfe of no meeter a man -then _Chappelet_, to recover 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 undergoe this office for me, I -will procure thee favourable Letters from the Court, and give thee a -reasonable portion in all thou recoverest. Master _Chappelet_, seeing -himselfe idle, and greedy after worldly goods, considering _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. - -Having made their agreement together, and received from _Musciatto_ his -expresse procuration, as also the Kings gracious Letters; after that -_Musciatto_ was gone on his journey, Master _Chappelet_ went to _Dijon_ -[Sidenote: To Borgogna saith the Italian.], where he was unknowne -(well neere) of any. And there (quite from his naturall disposition) -he beganne benignely and graciously, in recovering the debts due; -which course he tooke the rather, because they should have a further -feeling of him in the ende. Being lodged in the house of two Florentine -brethren, that lived on their monies usance; and (for _Mounsieur -Musciattoes_ sake) using him with honour and respect: It fortuned that -he fell sicke, and the two brethren sent for Physicions to attend him, -allowing their servants to be diligent about him, making no spare of -any thing, which gave the best likelyhood of restoring his health. But -all their paines proved to no purpose, because he (honest man) being -now growne aged, and having lived all his life time very disordredly, -fell day by day (according to the Physicions judgement) from bad to -worse, as no other way appeared but death, whereat the brethren greatly -greeved. - -Upon 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 gave him entertainement, and have allowed him honest physical -attendance, and he not having any way injuried or offended us, 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 receive -the blessed Sacrament of the Church, and dying so without confession; -there is no Church that will 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 absolve him. And being not absolved, 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 -coveting our spoile and overthrow; upon this accident will cry out and -mutiny against us; _Beholde these Lombard dogs, which are not to be -received into the Church, why should we suffer them to live heere among -us?_ In furious madnesse will they come upon us, and our house, where -(peradventure) not contented with robbing us of our goods, our lives -will remaine in their mercy and danger; so that, in what sort soever it -happen, this mans dying heere, must needs be banefull to us. - -Master _Chappelet_, who (as we have formerly saide) was lodged neere -to the place where they thus conferred, having 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 unto him, -thus hee spake. - -I would not have you to be any way doubtfull of me; neither that you -shold receive the least damage by me: I have heard what you have -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 have committed so many offences against our Lord God, in -the whole 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 unto 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 unto -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 them to their house. When he was come up into the Chamber -where Master _Chappelet_ lay, and being there seated downe by him; he -beganne first to comfort him very lovingly, demanding also of him, howe -many times he had bin at confession? Whereto master _Chappelet_ (who -never had bin shriven in all his life time) thus replied. - -Holy Father, I alwayes used (as a common custome) to bee confessed once -(at the least) every weeke, albeit sometimes much more often, but true -it is, that being faln into this sicknesse, now eight dayes since; -I have not bene confest, so violent hath bene the extremity of my -weakenesse. My sonne (answered the good old man) thou hast done well, -and so keep thee still hereafter in that minde: but I plainly perceive, -seeing thou hast so often confessed thy selfe, that I shall take the -lesse labour in urging questions to thee. - -Master _Chappelet_ replied: Say not so good Father, for albeit I have -bene so oftentimes confessed, yet am I willing now to make a generall -confession, even of all sinnes comming to my remembrance, from the very -day of my birth, until this instant houre of my shrift. And therefore I -intreate you (holy Father) to make a particular demand of every thing, -even as if I had never bene confessed at al, and to make no respect of -my sicknesse: for I had rather be offensive to mine owne flesh, then -by favouring 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 -never 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 never sinne. Then sayde -Maister _Chappelet_, Father, seeing you give me so good an assurance, -I will resolve you faithfully heerein. I am so true a Virgin-man in -this matter, even 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 lived, and therein hast not meanly merited: having hadde so much -libertie to doo the contrary if thou wouldst, wherein very few of us -can so answer for our selves. - -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, over and beside -the Fasts of our Lent season, which everie yeare ought to bee dulie -observed by devout people, I brought my selfe to such a customarie use, -that I could fast three dayes in every Weeke, with Bread and Water. But -indeede (holy Father) I confesse, that I have drunke water with such -a pleasing appetite and delight (especially in praying, or walking on -pilgrimages) even as greedy drunkards do, in drinking good Wine. And -many times I have desired such Sallades of small hearbes, as Women -gather abroad in the open fields, and feeding onely upon them, without -coveting 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 swerveth from devotion, 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 have thee to charge thy -conscience with them, more then is needfull. It happeneth to every man -(how holy soever he be) that after he hath fasted over-long, feeding -will be welcome to him, and drinking good drinke after his travaile. O -Sir (said Maister _Chappelet_) never tell me this to comfort me, for -well you know, and I am not ignorant therein, that such things as are -done for the service of God, ought all to be performed purely, and -without any blemish of the minde; what otherwise is done, savoureth of -sinne. The Friar being well contented with his words, said: It is not -amisse that thou understandest it in this manner, and thy conscience -thus purely cleared, is no little comfort to me. But tell me now -concerning Avarice, 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 have you to imagine, because you see me lodged here in the house -of two usurers, 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 have prevailed therein, had not this -violently sicknesse hindered mine intention. But understand (holy -Father) that my parents left me a rich man, and immediatly after my -fathers death, the greater part of his goods I gave away for Gods sake, -and then, to sustaine mine owne life, and to helpe the poore members -of Jesus Christ, I betooke my selfe to a meane estate of Merchandise, -desiring none other then honest gaine thereby, and evermore whatsoever -benefit came to me; I imparted halfe thereof to the poore, converting -mine owne small portion about my necessary affaires, which that other -part would scarcely serve to supply: yet alwayes God gave thereto such -a mercifull blessing, that my businesse dayly thrived 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 have 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 -judgements. Many times in a day, I have rather wished my selfe dead -then living, beholding youth pursuing idle vanities, to sweare and -forsweare themselves, tipling in Tavernes, and never 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 over-ruled thee, as to commit murther or -manslaughter, or to speake evill of any man, or to doe any other such -kinde of injurie? Oh Father (answered Maister _Chappelet_) you that -seeme to be a man of God, how dare you use 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 have suffered me to live? These are deedes -of darknesse, fit for villaines and wicked livers; of which hellish -crue, when at any time I have happened to meete with some one of them; -I have said, Goe, God convert thee. - -Worthy, and charitable words, replied the Friar; but tell me Sonne, -Didst thou ever 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 have spoken ill of -another, because I have 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 never did it, but when he was overcome with drinke. Those were no -ill words, quoth the Friar; but I remember, you said that you were a -Merchant: Did you ever deceive any, as some Merchants use 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 never happening to meete with the man -againe, after I had kept them the space of a whole yeare, I then gave -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 upon 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 have yet -one sinne more, which I have not revealed to you: when being urged 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 Saviour, and yet I have done no such -reverence to the Sunday or Sabaoth, as I ought to have 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 reverenced: 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 use -to spet there every 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 up to God. - -In this manner he held on an houre and more, uttering 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 mooved, said: -Alas Sonne, what aylest thou? Oh Father (quoth _Chappelet_) there -remaineth yet one sinne more upon my conscience, whereof I never at -any time made confession, so shamefull it appeareth to me to disclose -it; and I am partly perswaded, that God will never pardon me for that -sinne. How now Sonne? said the Friar, never say so; for if all the -sinnes that ever 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 upon 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 beleeve (if your earnest prayers doe not -assist me) that ever 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, -even as if his very heart would have broken, he saide; Holy Father, -seeing you promise to pray to God for me, I will reveale 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 greeved -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 -neverthelesse, upon their hearty repentance, he is alwayes ready to -forgive them; and wilt not thou beleeve to obtaine remission, for a -sinne so ignorantly committed? Weepe no more deare Sonne, but comfort -thy selfe, and rest resolved, that if thou wert one of them, who nayled -our blessed Saviour to his Crosse; yet being so truly repentant, as I -see thou art, he would freely forgive 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 forgive me. - -When the religious man perceived, that nothing more was to be confessed -by Master _Chappelet_; he gave him absolution, and his owne benediction -beside, reputing him to be a most holy man, as verily beleeving all -that he had said. And who would not have done the like, hearing a man -to speake in that manner, and being upon the very point of death? -Afterward, he saide unto 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 have your body buried in our Convent? 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 have -promised, to pray to God for me; and beside, I have alwayes carried a -religious devotion to your Order. Wherefore, I beseech you, so soone -as you are come home to your Convent, prevaile so much by your good -meanes, that the holy Eucharist, consecrated this morning on your high -Altar, may be brought unto me: for although I confesse my selfe utterly -unworthy, yet I purpose (by your reverend permission) to receive it, -as also your holy and latest unction; to this ende, that having lived a -greevous sinner, I may yet (at the last) die a Christian. These words -were pleasing to the good olde man, and he caused every 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 understood 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 themselves; 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 judgement 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 lived? -Notwithstanding, seeing he had so ordered the matter, that he had -buriall freely allowed him, they cared for no more. - -After that _Chappelet_ had received the Communion, and the other -ceremonies appointed for him; weakenesse encreasing on him more and -more, the very same day of his goodly confession, he died (not long -after) towards the evening. Whereupon the two Brethren tooke order, -that all needefull things should be in a readinesse, to have him buried -honourably; sending to acquaint the Fathers of the Convent therewith, -that they might come to say their _Vigilles_, 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 -Convent, and by sound of the house Bell, caused all the Brethren to -assemble together, giving them credibly to understand, 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 devoute solemnity and reverence; 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 used an especiall and solemne _Vigill_; 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 devoute 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 up 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 observations) what _Chappelet_ -had confessed, as this most great and greevous sinne, and how hardly -he could be perswaded, that God would grant him pardon for it. Whereby -he tooke occasion to reprove the people then present, saying; And you -(accursed of God) for the verie least and trifling matter hapning, -will not spare to blaspheme God, his blessed Mother, and the whole -Court of heavenly 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 asseveration of his words (whereto -all the people there present gave credible beleefe) he provoked them -unto such zeale and earnest devotion; 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 themselves, that could get the smallest peece or shred or 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, devotion, and integrity of life, maintained constantly by the -Fathers of the Convent; that if any one fell sicke in neede, distresse, -or adversity, they would make their Vowes to no other Saint but him: -naming him (as yet to this day they do) Saint _Chappelet_, affirming -upon their Oathes, that infinite miracles were there daily performed by -him, and especially on such, as came in devotion to visit his shrine. - -In this manner lived and died Master _Chappelet du Prat_, who before -he became a Saint, was as you have heard: and I will not deny it to be -impossible, but that he may be at rest among other blessed bodies. For, -although he lived lewdly and wickedly, yet such might be his contrition -in the latest extreamity, that (questionlesse) he might finde mercie. -But, because such things remaine unknowne to us, and speaking by -outwarde appearance, vulgar judgement 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 us, that he regards not our -errors, but the integrity of our Faith, making (by meanes of our -continuall Mediator) of an open enemy, a converted sonne and servant. -And as I began in his name, so will I conclude, desiring that it may -evermore be had in due reverence, and referre we our selves thereto in -all our necessities, with this setled assurance, that he is alwayes -readie to heare us. And so he ceased. - - - - -_Abraham a Jew, being admonished or advised by a friend of his, named -Jehannot de Chevigny, travailed from Paris unto Rome: And beholding -there the wicked behaviour of men in the Church, returned backe to -Paris again, where yet (neverthelesse) he became a Christian._ - -The Second Novell. - -_Wherein is contained and expressed, the liberality and goodnesse of -God, extended to the Christian Faith._ - - -The Novell recited by _Pamphilus_ was highly pleasing to the company, -and much commended by the Ladies: and after it had beene diligently -observed 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 us by his Tale, how the goodnesse of -God regardeth not our errors, when they proceede from things which -wee cannot discerne. And I intend to approove by mine, what argument -of infallible truth, the same benignity delivereth of it selfe, by -enduring patiently the faults of them, that (both in word and worke) -should declare unfaigned testimony of such gracious goodnesse, and not -to live so dissolutely as they doe. To the end, that others illumined -by their light of life, may beleeve with the stronger constancy of -minde. - -As I have heeretofore heard (Gracious Ladies) there lived a wealthy -Marchant in _Paris_, being a Mercer, or seller of Silkes, named -_Jehannot de Chevigny_, a man of faithful, honest, and upright -dealing; who held great affection and friendship with a very rich Jew, -named _Abraham_, that was a Merchant also, and a man of very direct -conversation. _Jehannot_ well noting the honesty and loyall dealing of -this Jew, began to have a Religious kind of compassion in his soule, -much pittying, that a man so good in behaviour, so wise and discreete -in all his actions, should be in danger of perdition thorow want of -Faith. In which regard, lovingly he began to entreate him, that he -would leave the errors of his Jewish beleefe, and follow the truth of -Christianity, which he evidently 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 Jew made answer, that he beleeved nothing to be so good & holy, as -the Jewish Religion, and having beene borne therein, therein also he -purposed to live and dye, no matter whatsoever, being able to remove -him from that resolution. For all this stiffe deniall, _Jehannot_ would -not so give him over; but pursued him still day by day, reitterating -continually his former speeches to him: delivering infinite excellent -and pregnant reasons, that Merchants themselves were not ignorant, how -farre the Christian faith excelled the Jewish falshoods. And albeit the -Jew was a very learned man in his owne law, yet notwithstanding, the -intire amity hee bare to _Jehannot_, or (perhaps) his words fortified -by the blessed Spirit, were so prevalent with him: that the Jew felt -a pleasing apprehension in them, though his obstinacie stood (as yet) -farre off from conversion. But as hee thus continued strong in opinion, -so _Jehannot_ left not hourely to labour him: in so much that the Jew, -being conquered by such earnest and continuall importunity, one day -spake to _Jehannot_ thus. - -My worthy friend _Jehannot_, thou art extremely desirous, that I should -convert to Christianity, and I am well contended to doe it, onely upon -this condition. That first I will journey 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 -endeavourest to perswade me: I will become a Christian as thou art, but -if I finde it otherwise, I will continue a Jew as I am. - -When _Jehannot_ heard these words, he became exceeding sorrowfull, -saide within himselfe. I have lost all the paines, which I did thinke -to be well imployed, as hoping to have this man converted here: For, -if he goe to the Court of Rome, and behold there the wickednes of the -Priests lives; farewell all hope in me, of ever seeing him to become -a Christian. But rather, were he already a Christian, without all -question, he would turne Jew: And so (going neerer to _Abraham_) he -said. Alas my loving friend, why shouldst thou undertake such a tedious -travell, and so great a charge, as thy journey from hence to Rome will -cost thee? Consider, that to a rich man (as thou art) travaile by -land or sea is full of infinite dangers. Doest thou not thinke, that -here are Religious men enow, who will gladly bestowe Baptisme upon -thee. To me therefore it plainely appeareth, that such a voyage is to -no purpose. If thou standest upon 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 resolve 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, reserve this journey to some time more -convenient, when the Jubilee of generall pardon happeneth, and then -(perchance) I will beare thee company, and goe along with thee as in -vowed pilgrimage. - -Whereto the Jew replied. I beleeve _Jehannot_, that all which thou hast -said may be so. But, to make short with thee, I am fully determined -(if thou wouldst have me a Christian, as thou instantly urgest me to -be) to goe thither, for otherwise, I will continue as I am. _Jehannot_ -perceiving his setled purpose, said: Goe then in Gods name. But -perswaded himselfe, that hee would never become a Christian, after hee -had once seene the Court of Rome: neverthelesse, he counted his labour -not altogether lost, in regard he bestowed it to a good end, and honest -intentions are to be commended. - -The Jew mounted on horse-backe, and made no lingering in his journey -to Rome, where being arrived, he was very honourably entertained by -other Jewes dwelling in Rome. And during the time of his abiding there -(without revealing to any one, the reason of his comming thither) very -heedfully he observed, the manner of the Popes life, of the Cardinals, -Prelates, and all the Courtiers. And being a man very discreete and -judicious, he apparantly perceived, 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. Moreover, drunkards, belly-Gods, -and servants of the paunch, more then of any thing else (even like -brutish beasts after their luxurie) were every where to be met withall. -And, upon further observation, hee saw all men so covetous and greedy -of coyne, that every 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 divinest qualities, how, or to whomsoever -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 upon all Trades) of manifest Symonie, under the nice -name of Negotiation, and for gluttony, not sustentation: even as if God -had not knowne the signification of vocables, nor the intentions of -wicked hearts, but would suffer himselfe to be deceived by the outward -names of things, as wretched men commonly use to doe. - -These things, and many more (fitter for silence, then publication) -were so deepely displeasing to the Jew, being a most sober and modest -man; that he had soone seene enough, resolving on his returne to -_Paris_, which very speedily he performed. And when _Jehannot_ heard -of his arrivall, crediting much rather other newes from him, then ever -to see him a converted Christian; he went to welcome him, and kindly -they feasted one another. After some fewe dayes of resting, _Jehannot_ -demaunded of him; what he thought of our holy father the Pope and his -Cardinals, and generally of all the other Courtiers? Whereto the Jew -readily answered; It is strange _Jehannot_, that God should give 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 have both heard and -seene: I could then have resolved my selfe, never to have found in -any Priest, either sanctity, devotion, good worke, example of honest -life, or any good thing else beside. But if a man desire to see luxury, -avarice, 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 perceive, -me thinkes your chiefe Pastour, and (consequently) all the rest of -his dependants, doe strive so much as they may (with all their engine -arte and endeavour) 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 perceive, that their wicked intent will never come to -passe, but contrariwise, that your faith enlargeth itselfe, shining -every day much more cleare and splendant: I gather thereby evidently, -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 never -minded to become a Christian: now I freely open my heart unto thee, -that nothing in the world can or shall hinder me, but I will be a -Christian, as thou art. Let us therefore presently goe to the Church, -and there (according to the true custome of your holy faith) helpe me -to be baptized. - -_Jehannot_, 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 joyfully did, hearing him so earnestly to desire -it. _Jehannot_ was his Godfather, and named him _John_, and afterward, -by learned Divines he was more fully instructed in the grounds of -our faith; wherein he grew of greatly understanding, and led a very -vertuous life. - - - - -_Melchisedech a Jew, by recounting a Tale of three Rings, to the great -Soldan, named Saladine, prevented a great danger which was prepared for -him._ - -The third Novell. - -_Whereby the Author, approving the Christian Faith, sheweth, how -beneficiall a sodaine and ingenious answer may fall out to bee, -especially when a man finds himselfe in some evident danger._ - - -Madame _Neiphila_ having 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 delivered by _Neiphila_, maketh mee remember a doubtfull -case, which sometime hapned to another Jew. And because that God, and -the truth of his holy Faith, hath bene already very wel discoursed -on: it shall not seeme unfitting (in my poore opinion) to descend now -into the accidents of men. Wherefore, I will relate a matter unto -you, which being attentively heard and considered; may make you much -more circumspect, in answering to divers questions and demands, then -(perhaps) otherwise you would be. Consider then (most woorthy assembly) -that like as folly or dulnesse, many times hath overthrowne some men -from place of eminencie, into most great and greevous miseries: even -so, discreet sense and good understanding, hath delivered many out -of irksome perils, and seated them in safest security. And to prove -it true, that folly hath made many fall from high authority, into -poore and despised calamity; may be avouched by infinite examples, -which now were needeless to remember: But, that good sense and able -understanding, may proove to be the occasion of great desolation, -without happy prevention, I will declare unto 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 gave him many signall -victories, over Kings of the Sarrazens, and of Christians likewise. -Having in divers 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 use some great summe of money, -yet not readily knowing where, or how to procure it; he remembred a -rich Jew named _Melchisedech_, that lent out money to use 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 device whereby he might have it: he concluded, though hee might not -compell him to do it, yet by a practise shadowed with good reason to -ensnare him. And having sent for him entertained him very familiarly in -his Court, and sitting downe by him, thus began. - -Honest man, I have 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, which -of those three Lawes or Religions, thou takest to be truest; that of -the Jew, the other of the Sarazen, or that of the Christian? The Jew, -being a very wise man, plainly perceived, 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 above 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 thereof, 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 have oftentimes heard it reported, that -(long since) there was a very wealthy man, who (among other precious -Jewels of his owne) had a goodly Ring of great valew; the beauty and -estimation whereof, made him earnestly desirous to leave 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 -reverenced 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 (coveting to beare esteeme above the other) desired -(as hee could best make his meanes) his father, that in regard he -was now grown very old, he would leave that Ring to him, whereby he -should bee acknowledged for his heire. The good man, who loved no one -of them more then the other, knew not how to make his choise, nor to -which of them he should leave the Ring: yet having past his promise -to them severally, he studied by what meanes to satisfie them all -three. Wherefore, secretly having 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 upon his death-bed, and his Sonnes then plying him by their best -opportunities, he gave to each of them a Ring. And they (after his -death) presuming severally upon their right to the inheritance & honour, -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 given by God the Father, to three such people as you -have propounded: each of them do imagine that they have 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 perceyving, that the Jew was too cunning to be caught -in his snare, and had answered so well, that to doe him further -violence, would redound unto his perpetuall dishonour; resolved to -reveale his neede and extremity, and try if he would therein friendly -sted him. Having disclosed the matter, and how he purposed to have -dealt with him, if he had not returned so wise an answer; the Jew lent -him so great a sum of money as hee demanded, and _Saladine_ repayed it -againe to him justly, giving him other great gifts beside: respecting -him as his especiall friend, and maintaining him in very honourable -condition, neere unto his owne person. - - - - -_A Monke, having committed an offence, deserving to be very grievously -punished; freede himselfe from the paine to be inflicted on him, by -wittily reprehending his Abbot, with the very same fault._ - -The fourth Novell. - -_Wherein may be noted, that such men as will reprove those errors in -others, which remaine in themselves, commonly are the Authors of their -owne reprehension._ - - -So ceased Madam _Philomena_, after the conclusion of her Tale, when -_Dioneus_ sitting next unto 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 understanding your generall -intention; we are purposely assembled here to tell Tales, and -especially such as may please our selves. In which respect, because -nothing should be done disorderly, I hold it lawfull for every one -(as our Queene decreed before her dignity) to relate such a novelty, -as (in their owne judgement) may cause most contentment. Wherefore -having heard, that by the good admonitions of _Jehannot de Chevigny_, -_Abraham_ the Jew was advised to the salvation of his soule, and -_Melchisedech_ (by his witty understanding) defended his riches from -the traines of _Saladine_: I now purpose to tell you in a few plaine -words, (without feare of receiving any reprehension) how cunningly a -Monke compassed his deliverance, 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 nowadayes they are; wherein lived (among -divers other) a young novice Monke, whose hot and lusty disposition -(being in the vigour of his yeeres) was such, as neither fastes nor -prayers had any great power over 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) uppon 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. - -Lascivious desire, and no religious devotion, made him draw neere -her, and whether under shrift (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 prevailed upon her -frailety, and such a bargaine passed betweene them, that (from the -Church) he wonne her to his Chamber, before any person could perceive -it. Now, while this yong lusty Monke (transported with over-fond -affection) was more carelesse of his dalliance, then he should have -beene; the Lord Abbot, being newly arisen from sleepe, and walking -softly about the Cloyster, came to the Monkes Dorter 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 perceived, that a woman was within. -Wherewith being much moved, he intended suddenly to make him open the -doore; but (upon better consideration) hee conceived it farre more -fitting for him, to returne backe to his owne chamber, and tary untill -the Monke should come forth. - -The Monke, though his delight with the Damosel was extraordinary, yet -feare and suspition followed upon it: for, in the very height of all -his wantonnesse, he heard a soft treading about the doore. And prying -thorow a small crevice in the same doore, perceived 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 veneriall Monke knew well enough (though wanton -heate would not let him heede it before) that most greevous punishment -must be inflicted on him; which made him sad beyond all measure. -Neverthelesse, 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 have it: whereupon seeming -satisfied for that season, hee tolde the Damosell, that (being carefull -of her credit) as he had brought her in unseen of any, so he would free -her from thence again, desiring her to tarrie there (without making any -noyse at all) until 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 delivering him the saide key -(as every Monke used to doe the like, when he went abroade out of the -Convent) setting a good countenance on the matter, boldly saide; My -Lord, I have not yet brought in all my part of the wood, which lieth -ready cut downe in the Forrest; and having now convenient time to doe -it, if you please to give me leave, I will goe and fetch it. The Abbot -perswading himselfe, that he had not beene discovered by the Monke, and -to be resolved more assuredly in the offence committed; being not a -little jocund of so happy an accident, gladly tooke the key, and gave -him leave 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 have no occasion of murmuring against -him, when he proceeded in the Monkes punishment; or rather should first -understand 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 -have her disgraced before all the Monkes. Wherefore he concluded, first -to see (himselfe) what shee was, and then (afterward) to resolve upon -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 receive publike -shame, by being betrayed in this unkinde manner. - -My Lord Abbot looking demurely on the Maide, and perceiving her to be -faire, feate, and lovely; 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 privately with himselfe. -Why should I not take pleasure, when I may freely have it? Cares -and molestations I endure every day, but sildome find such delights -prepared for me. This is a delicate sweete young Damosell, and here is -no eye that can discover me. If I can enduce her to doe as I would have -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 never befall -me; and therefore I hold it wisedome, to take such a benefit when a man -may enjoy it. - -Upon 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 prevent one shame -by another, was easily wonne to the Abbots will, which caused him to -embrace and kisse her often. - -Our lusty young novice Monke, whom the Abbot imagined to be gone for -wood, had hid himselfe aloft upon 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 undoubted certainty. A -little chincke or crevice favoured him, whereat he could both heare and -see, whatsoever was done or spoken by them: so, when the Abbot thought -hee had staide long enough with the Damosell, leaving 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 Convent, and supposing him to be lately returned with the wood, -determined to reprove him sharpely, and to have 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 giving him many harsh and bitter speeches, commanded, that -he should be clapt in prison. - -The Monke very readily answered, saying. My good Lord, I have not yet -beene so long in the order of Saint _Benedict_, as to learne all the -particularities thereto belonging. And beside Sir, you never shewed -mee or any of my brethren, in what manner we young Monkes ought to -use women, as you have otherwise done for our custome of prayer and -fasting. But seeing you have 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 never faile therein -againe, but dayly follow what I have seene you doe. - -The Abbot, being a man of quicke apprehension, perceived 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 deserved as much himselfe; pardoning -him, and imposing silence on eithers offence: they convayed the poore -abused Damosell forth of their doores, she purposing (never after) to -transgresse in the like manner. - - - - -_The Lady Marquesse of_ Montferrat, _with a Banquet of Hennes, and -divers other gracious speeches beside, repressed the fond love of the -King of_ France. - -The fift Novell. - -_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 -up into their faces, delivered 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 gave 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 virgin-blush, as very beautifully became her, -began in this manner. - -It is no little joy to me, that wee understand so well (by the -discourses already past) what power consisteth in the delivery of -wise and ready answeres; And because it is a great part offence and -judgement in men, to affect women of great birth and quality, then -themselves, as also an admirable fore-sight in women, to keepe off from -being surprized in love, by Lords going beyond them in degree: a matter -offereth it selfe to my memory, well deserving 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 service required -his company on the Seas, in a goodly Army of the Christians against -the Turkes. Upon 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 delivered, -concerning the valour and manhood of this Marquesse: it fortuned, that -a Knight was then present, who knew him very familiarly, and hee gave -an addition to the former commendation, that 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; even 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 (having as -yet never 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 journeying thither by land: hee would shape -some honest excuse to see the Lady Marquesse, whose Lord being then -from home, opinion perswaded him over-fondly, that he should easily -obtaine the issue of his amorous desire. - -When hee was come within a dayes journey, 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 judicious; -answered the Messenger, that she reputed the Kings comming to her, as -an extraordinary grace and favour, and that hee should be most heartily -welcome. Afterward, entring into further consideration with her selfe, -what the King might meane by this private 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 -deceived) that babling report of her beauty and perfections, might -thus occasion the Kings comming thither, his journy lying else a quite -contrary way. Notwithstanding, being a Princely Lady, and so loyall a -wife as ever lived, shee intended to give him her best entertainement: -summoning the chiefest Gentlemen in the Country together, to take due -order (by their advise) for giving the King a gracious welcome. But -concerning the dinner, and diet for service 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 provision beside) they should prepare all the services that they -could devise. 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 -ever he had seene before; whereat he mervailed 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 served 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. Neverthelesse, observing each -service after other, and that all the Viands (though variously cooked, -and in divers 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 -marvell the more, that nothing was provided for him, but Hennes onely: -wherein to be the better resolved, 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 understanding 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 wives, howsoever 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 under her answer; -perceiving apparantly, that wanton words would prove 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 unkingly 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 Novell. - -_Declaring, that in few, discreete, and well placed words, the covered -craft of Church-men may be justly reproved, and their hypocrisie -honestly discovered._ - - -Madam _Æmilia_ sitting next to the gentle Lady _Fiammetta_, perceiving -the modest chastisement, which the vertuous Lady Marquesse had given 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 deserved reprehension, which an honest simple lay-man, -gave to a covetous holy Father, in very few words; yet more to be -commended, then derided. - -Not long since (worthy Ladies) there dwelt in our owne native 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 understanding; and yet not so defective -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 judgement they could have 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 never 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 up -full with no meane abundance: _cum gladiis & 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, understanding 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 uttered. Presently the Inquisitor, most devoutly addicted -to Saint _John_ 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 Taverne 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 deserveth fire and faggot, if I should -proceede in Justice 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 believe 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 eare, and (by secret -means) so annointed his hands with Saint _Johns_ golden grease, (a very -singular remedy against the disease pestilentiall in covetous Priests, -especially Friars Minors, that dare touch no money) as the case became -very quickly altered. - -This soveraigne unction was of such vertue (though _Galen_ speakes -not a word thereof among all his chiefest medicines) and so farre -prevailed; that the terrible threatening words of fire and fagot, -became meerely frozen up, and gracious language blew a more gentle -and calmer ayre; the Inquisitor delivering him an hallowed Crucifixe, -creating him a Souldier of the Crosse (because he had payed Crosses -good store for it) and even as if he were to travell under that -Standard to the holy Land; so did hee appoint him a home-paying -pennance, namely, to visit him thrice every weeke in his Chamber, and -to annoint his hands with the selfe-same yellow unguent, 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 injunction) to heare Masse, in -the Gospell he observed these wordes; _You shall receive 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 have heard, but -doe beleeve all constantly; onely one thing troubleth me much, and -maketh me very compassionate of you, and of all these holy Fathers your -brethren, perceiving 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 moved to such compassion of us? O -good Sir, saide the man, doe you remember the words in the Gospell -this morning? you shall receive an hundred for one. That is very true, -replied the Inquisitor, but what moveth thee to urge 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 have daily -seene many poore people at your doore, and (out of your abundance) -when you and your brethren have fed sufficiently, every one hath had a -good messe of pottage: now Sir, if for every dishfull given, you are -sure to receive an hundred againe, you will all be meerely drowned in -pottage. Although the rest (sitting at the Table with the Inquisitor) -laughed heartily at this jest; yet he found himselfe toucht in another -nature, having (hypocritically) received for one poore offence, above -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 covetousnesse, -in Master_ Can de la Scala. - -The seaventh Novell. - -_Approving, that it is much unfitting for a Prince, or great person, to -be covetous; but rather to be liberall to all men._ - - -The curteous demeanour of Madam _Æmilia_, and the quaintnesse of her -discourse, caused both the Queene, and the rest of the company, to -commend the invention 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 never -stirreth out of his place: but it is a matter much more admirable, -to see a thing (suddenly appearing, and sildome or never frequented -before) to be as suddenly hit by an ordinary Archer. The vicious and -polluted lives of Priests, yeeldeth matter of it selfe in many things, -deserving 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 giving 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 reproved -Master _Can de la Scala_, a Magnifico and mightie Lord, for a sudden -and unaccustomed covetousnesse 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 favours of Fortune towards him) one of the -most notable and magnificent Lords that ever lived 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 divers places, especially Gentlemen of all degrees; suddenly -(upon 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 unrespected, 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 over long -delayed, yet hee made no doubt of a beneficiall ending. - -By some enemies of his, Master _Can de la Scala_ was incensed, that -whatsoever he gave or bestowed on him; was as ill imployed and -utterly 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 -over, and _Bergamino_ perceiving, that hee was neither called, nor -any account made of, notwithstanding many manly good parts in him; -observing beside, that hee found a shrewd consumption in his purse, his -Inne, horses, and servants being chargeable to him: he began to grow -extremely melancholly, and yet hee attended in expectation day by day, -as thinking it farre unfitting for him, to depart before he was bidden -farewell. - -Having brought with him thither three goodly rich garments, which -had beene given him by sundry Lords, for his more sightly appearance -at this great meeting: the importunate Host being greedy of payment, -first he delivered him one of them, and yet not halfe the score being -wiped off, the second must needes follow, and beside, except he meant -to leave his lodging, hee must live upon the third so long as it would -last, till hee saw what end his hopes would sort to. It fortuned, -during the time of living thus upon his latest refuge, that he met -with Maister _Can_ one day at dinner, where he presented himselfe -before him, with a discontented countenance: which Master _Can_ well -observing, 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 us why? _Bergamino_ suddenly, -without any premeditation, yet seeming as if he had long considered -thereon, reported this Tale. - -Sir, I have 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 never 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 have 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 never made refusall of any -(from whence so ever hee came or went) but they did eate and drinke -freely there; provided, 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 resolved 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 loaves of bread with him, knowing that he could -meete with water every where, albeit he used to drinke but little. -Having aptly convayed his bread about him, he went on his journey, and -arrived at the Lord Abbots Court, an indifferent while before dinner -time: wherefore, 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 provision 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 every 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 -served to any, of the Tables, untill the Lord Abbot was himselfe first -sette: whereupon, every 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 having not seene him before to his -remembrance; a present bad conceite possessed his braine, that he never -saw an unworthier person, saying within himselfe: See how I give my -goods away to be devoured. So returning backe to his Chamber againe, -commaunded the doore to be made fast, demaunding of every man neere -about him, if they knew the base Knave that sate before his entrance -into the Hall, and all his servants answered no. _Primasso_ being -extreamely hungry, with travailing on foote so farre, and never used to -fast so long; expecting still when meate would be served in, and that -the Abbot came not at all: drew out one of his loaves 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 -servant told him, that he still stayed there, and fed upon 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 have gone thence of -himselfe, and yet held it scarsely honest in his Lordship, to dismisse -him by his owne command. _Primasso_ having eaten one of his Loaves, and -yet the Abbot was not come; began to feede upon the second: the Abbot -still sending to expect his absence, and answered as he was before. -At length, the Abbot not comming, and _Primasso_ having eaten up 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 whatsoever? I have 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 knave, never refraining my -presence in the Hall, by basely contemning one poore man. Beleeve me, -covetousnesse 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 deserve more honour then I am -able to give him. - -Having thus discoursed with himselfe, he would needs understande 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 every where of 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, strove many waies how -to do him honour. When dinner was ended, the Abbot bestowed honourable -garments on him, such as beseemed his degree and merit, and putting -good store of money in his purse, as also giving 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 -devise 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 understanding, -perceyved 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 justly reprooved mine avarice, niggardnesse, and base folly. And -trust me _Bergamino_, I never felt such a fit of covetousness come upon -me, as this which I have dishonestly declared to thee: and which I will -now banish from me, with the same correction as thou hast taught mee. -So, having 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 covetousnesse of Signior_ Herminio de Grimaldi. - -The eight Novell. - -_Which plainly declareth, that a covetous Gentleman, is not worthy of -any honour 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 injunction 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 -unprofitably) base covetousnesse in a Merchant of extraordinary wealth. -Which Tale, although (in effect) it may seeme to resemble the former; -yet perhaps, it will prove no lesse pleasing to you, in regard it -sorted to as good an end. - -It is no long time since, that there lived in _Genes_ or _Geneway_, a -Gentleman named Signior _Herminio de Grimaldi_, who (as every 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 Avarice, -being so miserably greedy and covetous, as no man in the world could -be more wicked that way; because, not onely he kept his purse lockt up -from pleasuring any, but denied needful things to himself, enduring -many miseries & distresses, onely to avoide expences, contrary to the -_Genewayes_ generall custome, who alwayes delighted to be decently -cloathed, and to have 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 covetous 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 civill honest Gentleman -(a Courtier, of ready wit, and discoursive in Languages) came to -_Geneway_, being named _Guillaume Boursier_. A man very farre differing -from divers Courtiers in these dayes, who for soothing shamefull and -gracelesse manners, in such as allow them maintenance, are called and -reputed to bee Gentlemen, yea especiall favourites: whereas much more -worthily, they should be accounted as knaves and villaines, being -borne and bred in all filthinesse, and skilfull in every kinde of -basest behaviour, 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 loving speeches) would recreate -disturbed mindes, desiring none but commendable exercises in Court, -and sharpely reprooving (like fathers) disordred life, or ill actions -in any, albeit with recompence little, or none at all: these upstarts -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, -upbraiding him with injuries, shames, and scandals (true or not true) -upon the very least occasion. And by false and deceitfull flatteries -and villanies of their own inventing, they make Gentlemen to become as -vile as themselves. For which detestable qualities, they are better -beloved and respected of theyr misdemeanour'd Lords, and recompenced in -more bountifull manner, then men of vertuous carriage and desert. Which -is an argument sufficient, that goodnesse is gone up to heaven, 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 just and -religious anger against such deformity) this Gentleman, Master -_Guillaume Boursier_, was willingly seene, and gladly welcommed by all -the best men in _Geneway_. Having remayned some few dayes in the City, -& (among other matters) heard much talke of the miserable covetousness -of master _Herminio_, he grew verie desirous to have a sight of him. -Master _Herminio_ had already understood, that this Gentleman, Master -_Guillaume Boursier_, was vertuously disposed, and (how covetously -soever he was inclined) having in him some sparkes of noble nature; -gave him very good words, and gracious entertainement, discoursing with -him on divers occasions. - -In company of other _Genewayes_ with him, he 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 have heard and seene many things, and -you can instruct me in some quaint conceit or devise, 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 advise you in any thing, so rare or unseen as -you talke of: but how to sneeze (after a new manner) upon a full and -overcloyed stomacke, to avoide 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, wherewith (as yet) you never 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 have it fairely painted. Whereto Master _Guillaume_ -suddenly replied: Doe nothing but this Sir; Paint over the Portall -at your Halles entrance, the lively picture of Liberality, to bid -all your friends better welcome, then hitherto they have 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 have your advice so -truly figured over my gate, and shee shall give so good welcome to all -my guests, that both you, and all these Gentlemen shall say; I have -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 lived in his time in _Geneway_; no man more -honouring and friendly welcoming both strangers and Citizens, then he -continually used 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 Novell. - -_Giving all men to understand, that Justice is necessary in a King, -above all things else whatsoever._ - - -The last command of the Queene, remained upon 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 adventure, 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, approving, that when good -words are discreetly observed, they are of soveraigne 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_, travelling in pilgrimage, to visit the -sacred Sepulcher in _Jerusalem_, returning home againe, arrived 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 -justice the offences of others, but also suffered shamefull injuries -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 -revenge for her wrongs, shee resolved to checke the Kings deniall of -justice, and comming before him weeping, spake in this manner. Sir, I -presume not into your presence, as hoping to have redresse by you, for -divers dishonourable injuries done unto 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, even -as sleeping out his time of governement; beganne to revenge the wrongs -done to this Gentlewoman very severely, and (thenceforward) became a -most sharpe Justicer, for the least offence offered against the honour -of his Crowne, or to any of his subjects beside. - - - - -_Master_ Albert _of Bullen, honestly made a Lady to blush, that -thought to have done as much to him, because shee perceived him, to be -amorously affected towards her._ - -The tenth Novell. - -_Wherein is declared, that honest love 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 Starres (when the Ayre is faire and cleere) are the adorning and -beauty of Heaven, and flowers (while the Spring time lasteth) doe -graciously embellish the Meadowes; even 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 us women, this day, I thinke few or none have therein offended, -but as readily have understood short and pithy speeches, as they have -beene quicke and quaintly delivered. But when answering suteth not with -understanding, it is generally a shame in us, and all such as live; -because our moderne times have converted that vertue, which was within -them who lived before us, 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 have most matter in her, and -therefore to be more honoured and esteemed. Never considering, that -whosoever loadeth the backe of an Asse, or puts upon him the richest -braverie; he becommeth not thereby a jote the wiser, or merriteth -any more honour then an Asse should have. I am ashamed to speake it, -because in detecting other, I may (perhaps) as justly taxe my selfe. - -Such imbroydered bodies, tricked and trimmed in such boasting bravery, -are they any thing else but as Marble Statues, dumbe, dull, and utterly -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 devise and conference among men and women, they would -have the world to thinke, that it proceedeth but from simplicity and -precise opinion, covering 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 used in the action -of other things; so, time and place are necessarily to be considered, -and also whom we converse withall; because sometimes it happeneth, -that a man or woman, intending (by a word of jest and merriment) to -make another body blush or be ashamed: not knowing what strength of -wit remaineth in the opposite, doe convert the same disgrace upon -themselves. Therefore, that we may the more advisedly stand upon out -owne guard, and to prevent the common proverbe, _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 us 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 selves 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. Having 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 lovely -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, perceiving the occasion of his -passing and repassing; would privately jest thereat together, to see -a man of such yeares and discretion, to be amorously addicted, or -over-swayed by effeminate passions. For they were partly perswaded, -that such wanton Ague fits of Love, 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 upon a Feastivall day, that shee (accompanied with divers -other women of great account) being sitting at her doore; espied Master -_Albert_ (farre off) comming thitherward, and a resolved determination -among themselves was set downe, to allow him favourable entertainement, -and to jest (in some merry manner) at his loving folly, as afterward -they did indeede. - -No sooner was he come neere, but they all arose, and courteously -invited 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, aptly -suting with her yeares and desires? Master _Albert_ perceiving, 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. - -Beleeve 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 Love, are bereft and gone from aged people; yet goodwill -thereto cannot be taken from them, neither judgement to know such -as deserve 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 reverence. The hope which incited me (being aged) -to love you, that are affected of so many youthfull Gallants, grew -thus. I have often chaunced into divers places, where I have 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 unreasonable -appetite) will hold the heads of them in your hands, and feede upon the -blades or stalkes; which not onely are not good for any thing, but also -are of very bad savour. 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 have both well and worthily chastised our over-bold -presumption, and beleeve mee Sir, I repute your love and kindnesse of -no meane merit, comming from a man so wise and vertuous: And therefore -(mine honour reserved) commaund my uttermost, as alwayes ready to -do you any honest service. Master _Albert_, arising from his seat, -thanking the faire widdow for her gentle offer; tooke leave of her and -all the company, and she blushing, as all the rest were therein not -much behinde her, thinking to checke him, became chidden her selfe, -whereby (if wee be wise) let us all take warning. - -The Sunne was now somewhat farre declined, and the heates extremity -well worne away, when the Tales of the seaven Ladies and three -Gentlemen were thus finished, whereupon their Queene pleasantly said. -For this day (faire company) there remaineth nothing more to be done -under my regiment, but onely to bestow a new Queene upon you, who -(according to her judgement) 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 whatsoever 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 severally -begin. And therefore, in reverence to him that giveth life to all -things, and in hope of comfort by our second day; Madame _Philomena_, a -most wise young Lady, shall governe 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 reverently -placed it upon 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 whatsoever she commaunded. _Philomena_, her -cheekes delivering a scarlet tincture, to see her selfe thus honoured -as their Queene, and well remembring the words, so lately uttered 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 provision, as also for the supper so neere -approaching, before they departed away from thence, and then thus began. - -Lovely 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 judgement, 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 understand my meaning. If you have 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, -untill by over-tedious continuation, or other occasions of irkesome -offence, it shall seeme injurious, I am of the minde, not to alter -it. Holding on the order then as we have begun to do, we will depart -from hence to recreate our selves 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 every one shall finde fittest -for them, even as already this day we have done; untill due time shall -summon us hither againe, to continue our discoursive Tales, wherein (me -thinkes) consisteth both pleasure and profit, especially by discreete -observation. - -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 undergo, to wit, in restraining some matters whereon we are -to speake, that better premeditation may passe upon them. For, when -respite and a little leysure goeth before them, each discourse will -savour 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 have -bene guided (by Fortune) thorow divers accidents and occasions: so -beyond all hope & expectation, the issue and successe hath bin good and -succesfull, and accordingly should every one of our arguments be chosen. - -The Ladies, and the yong Gentlemen likewise, commended her advice, -and promised to imitate it; onely _Dioneus_ excepted, who when every -one was silent, spake thus. Madam, I say as all the rest have done, -that the order by you appointed, is most pleasing and worthy to bee -allowed. But I intreate one speciall favour for my selfe, and to have -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 urge this grace -of you, as being unfurnished of discourses in this kinde, I am well -contented to be the last in every dayes exercise. - -The Queene, knowing him to be a man full of mirth and matter, began -to consider very advisedly, that he would not have mooved this -request, but onely to the end, that if the company grew wearied by -any of the Tales re-counted, hee would shut uppe 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 river, 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 _Æmilia_, assisted by Madam _Lauretta_ -and _Dioneus_, shold sing a sweet ditty. At which command, _Lauretta_ -undertooke the dance, and led it, _Æmilia_ singing this song ensuing. - - _The Song. - - So much delight my beauty yeelds to mee, - That any other Love, - To wish or prove; - Can never sute it selfe with my desire. - - Therein I see, upon good observation, - What sweete content due understanding lends: - Olde or new thoughts cannot in any fashion - Rob me of that, which mine owne soule commends. - What object then, - (mongst infinites of men) - Can I ever finde - to dispossesse 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 never to refuse, - Which mortall tongue or thought, what ere it be; - Must still conceale, - not able to reveale, - 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 gave ending to this first dayes -Recreation. So, lights being brought, they departed to their severall -Lodgings, to take their rest till the next morning. - - -_The End of the first Day._ - - - - -The Second Day. - -_Wherein, all the Discourses are under the government of Madam -Philomena: Concerning such men or women, as (in divers accidents) have -beene much molested by Fortune, and yet afterward, contrary to their -hope and expectation, have had a happy and successefull deliverance._ - - -Already had the bright Sunne renewed the day every 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 seven 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 even 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, having put on her Crowne of Laurell, and giving a gracious -countenance to the whole company; commanded 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 recovery; but when his dissimulation was discovered, 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 Novell. - -_Wherein is signified, how easie a thing it is, for wicked men to -deceive the world, under the shadow and colour of miracles: and that -such trechery (oftentimes) redoundeth to the harme of the deviser._ - - -Faire Ladies, it hath happened many times, that hee who striveth to -scorne and floute other men, and especially in occasions deserving to -be respected, proveth to mocke himselfe with the selfe-same matter, -yea, and to his no meane danger beside. As you shall perceive by a -Tale, which I intend to tell you, obeying therein the command of -our Queene, and according to the subject by her enjoyned. In which -discourse, you may first observe, what great mischance happened to one -of our Citizens; and yet afterward, how (beyond all hope) he happily -escaped. - -Not long since there lived in the City of _Trevers_, an _Almaine_ or -_Germaine_, named _Arriguo_, [Sidenote: Or Arrigo.] who being a poore -man, served 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 _Trevers_ themselves -affirmed) in the very instant houre of his departing, all the Belles in -the great Church of _Trevers_, (not being pulled by the helpe of any -hand) beganne to ring: which being accounted for a miracle, every 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, even as if every 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 _Trevers_, one -of them being named _Stechio_, the second _Martellino_, and the third -_Marquiso_, all being men of such condition, as frequented Princes -Courts, to give them delight by pleasant & counterfeited qualities. -None of these men having ever beene at _Trevers_ 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. Having ordered all affaires at their lodging, _Marquiso_ saide; -It is fit for us to see this Saint, but I know not how we shall attaine -thereto, because (as I have heard) the place is guarded by Germane -Souldiers, and other warlike men, commanded thither by the Governours -of this City, least any outrage should be there committed: And beside, -the Church is so full of people, as wee shall never 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; every one will make way, and freely give you leave to goe on. - -This devise 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 upon him, and -whosoever beheld him, would verily have imagined, that hee was utterly -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 every one that they met, to grant them free passage, -whereto they charitably condiscended. - -Thus leading him on, crying still; Beware there before, and give way -for Gods sake, they arrived at the body of Saint _Arriguo_, that (by -his helpe) he might be healed. And while all eyes were diligently -observing, what miracle would be wrought on _Martellino_, hee having -sitten a small space upon the Saints bodie, and being sufficiently -skilfull in counterfeiting; beganne first to extend forth 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_, even as if it had thundered in the Church. - -Now it chanced by ill fortune, that there stood a _Florentine_ neere -to the body, who knew _Martellino_ very perfectly; but appearing so -monstrously misshapen, when he was brought into the Church, hee could -take no knowledge of him. But when he saw him stand up 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 -never 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 us all are: but indeede, he knowes better how to -dissemble counterfeit trickes, then any man else that ever 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 us, came hither in false and counterfeit manner. So laying -hands uppon him, they threw him against the ground, haling him by the -haire on his head, and tearing the garments from his backe, spurning -him with 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 still they -did beat him, as meaning to leave no life in him, which _Stechio_ and -_Marquiso_ seeing, considered with themselves, that they were likewise -in a desperate case; and therefore, fearing to be as much misused, they -cryed out among the rest; Kill the counterfeit knave, lay on loade, and -spare him not; neverthelesse, 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 Justice standing at the Church doore, hee ran -with all possible speede to the _Potestates_ Lieutenant, and said -unto him. Good my Lord Justice, 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 have my money againe. He hearing this, sent for a -dozen of the Sergeants, who went to apprehend unhappy _Martellino_, -and recover 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 Cut-purse. 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. - -Upon 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 Judge, waxing much displeased, delivered him over to the -Strappado, and stood by himselfe, to have him confesse the crimes -imposed on him, and then to hang him afterward. Beeing let downe to -the ground, the Judge still demaunded of him, whether the accusations -against him were true, or no? Affirming, that it nothing avayled him -to deny it: whereupon hee thus spake to the Judge. 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 -will tell you that, which (as yet) I have not done, otherwise I purpose -to make you no more answers. - -Well (quoth the Judge) thou requirest but reason; & calling divers 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 prove before you. I would to God I -had never set foote within this City, as it is not many houres since -my first entrance, and presently after mine arrivall, I went (in an -evill 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 unto 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 have said, I humbly -entreate you, that upon 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_, -understanding how roughly the _Potestates_ Lieutenant dealt with -_Martellino_ and that he had already given him the Strappado; were in -heavy perplexity, saying to themselves; we have 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 _Trevers_, 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 service, went with him to the Lord of _Trevers_; prevailing so well -with him, that he sent to have _Martellino_ brought before him. The -Messengers that went for him, found him standing in his shirt before -the Judge, very shrewdly shaken with the Strappado, trembling and -quaking pittifully. For the Judge would not heare any thing in his -excuse; but hating him (perhaps) because hee was a Florentine: flatly -determined to have him hangde by the necke, and would not deliver him -to the Lorde, untill in meere despight he was compeld to do it. - -The Lord of _Trevers_, when _Martellino_ came before him, and had -acquainted him truly with every 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, -delivering them also his Passe, they escaped out of further danger, and -tarried no where, till they came unto _Florence_. - - - - -_Rinaldo de Este, after he was robbed by Theeves, arrived at Chasteau -Guillaume, where he was friendly lodged by a faire widdow, and -recompenced likewise for all his losses; returning afterward safe and -well home into his owne house._ - -The second Novell. - -_Whereby wee may learne, that such things as sometime seeme hurtfull to -us, may turne to our benefit and commodity._ - - -Much 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 -unto _Neiphila_, the Queene commanded his Tale to be the next, when -presently he began to speake thus. - -Gracious Ladies, I am to speake of universall occasions, mingled with -some misfortunes in part, and partly with matters leaning to love: as -many times may happen to such people, that trace the dangerous pathes -of amorous desires, or have not learned perfectly, to say S. _Julians -pater noster_, having 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 Theeves, men -of most badde life and conversation; yet he having no such mistrust of -them, rode on, conferring with them very familiarly. They perceiving -him to be a Merchant, and likely to have some store of money about -him, concluded betweene themselves to rob him, so soone as they found -apt place and opportunity. But because he should conceive 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 service, accounting themselves happy by his -companie, as hee returned the same courtesie to them, because he was -alone, and but one servant with him. - -Falling from one discourse to another, they began to talke of such -prayers, as men (in journey) use to salute God withall; and one of the -Theeves (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 -use when thus you travell on the way? Whereto _Rinaldo_ replyed in this -manner. To tell you true Sir, I am a man grosse enough in such Divine -matters, as medling more with Marchandize, then I do with Bookes. -Neverthelesse, at all times when I am thus in journey, in the morning -before I depart my Chamber, I say a _Pater noster_ and an _Ave Maria_, -for the souls of the father and mother of Saint _Julian_, and after -that, I pray God and S. _Julian_ to send me a good lodging at night. -And let me tell you Sir, that very oftentimes heeretofore, I have met -with many great dangers upon the way, from all which I still escaped, -and evermore (when night drewe on) I came to an exceeding good Lodging. -Which makes mee firmely beleeve, that Saint _Julian_ (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 -travaile securely, nor come to a good lodging. No doubt then Sir (quoth -the other) but you have saide that prayer this morning? I would be sorry -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 themselves: Looke thou hast said thy praier, -for when we have thy money, Saint _Julian_ and thou shift for thy -lodging. Afterward, the same man thus againe conferd with him. As you -Sir, so I have ridden many journies, and yet I never used any such -praier, although I have heard it very much commended, and my lodging -hath prooved never the worser. Perhaps this verie night will therein -resolve us both, whether of us two shall be the best lodged; you that -have sayde the prayer, or I that never used it at all. But I must -not deny, that in sted thereof, I have made use of some verses, as -_Dirupisti_, or the _Jutemerata_, or _Deprofundis_, which are (as my -Grandmother hath often told mee) of very great vertue and efficacy. - -Continuing thus in talke of divers things, winning way, and beguiling -the time, still waiting when their purpose should sort to effect: it -fortuned, that the Theeves seeing they were come neere to a Towne, -called _Casteau Guillaume_, by the foord of a River, the houre somewhat -late, the place solitarie, and thickely shaded with trees, they made -their assault; and having robd him, left him there on foote, stript -into his shirt, saying to him. Goe now and see, whether thy Saint -_Julian_ will allow thee this night a good lodging, or no, for our -owne we are sufficiently provided; so passing the River, away they -rode. _Rinaldoes_ servant, seeing his Master so sharply assayled, like -a wicked villaine, would not assist him in any sort: but giving his -horse the spurres, never left gallowping, untill hee came to _Chasteau -Guillaume_, where hee entred upon the point of night, providing -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 arriving -there so late, hee found the gates fast lockt, and the Bridges drawne -up, so that no entrance might be admitted. - -Grieving greatly hereat, and being much discomforted, rufully hee went -spying about the walls, for some place wherein to shrowd himselfe, at -least, to keepe the snow from falling upon him. By good hap, hee espied -an house upon the wall of the Towne, which had a terrace jutting out as -a penthouse, under 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 pensively; -made many sad complaints to Saint _Julian_, saying: This was not -according to the trust he reposed in her. But Saint _Julian_, taking -compassion upon him, without any over-long tarying; provided him of a -good lodging, as you shall heare how. - -In this towne of _Chasteau Guillaume_, lived a young Lady, who was a -widdow, so beautifull and comely of her person, as sildome was seene a -more lovely creature. The Marquesse _Azzo_ most dearely affected her, -and (as his choysest Jewell of delight) gave her that house to live in, -under 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 having -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 urgent occasions called him thence, and hee rode away -immediately. - -Much discontented was the Lady at this unexpected accident, and not -knowing now how to spend the time, resolved to use 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 quivering moanes, and complaints, seeming to be such, -as the Swanne singing before her death: whereupon, shee called her -Chamber-maide, saying to her. Goe up above, and looke over the terrace -on the wall downe to this doore, and see who is there, and what hee -doth. The Chamber-maide went up 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 starve there to -death with colde. - -The Chamber-maide, being much moved 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 have 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 unto 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 heate thereof, even 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 _Julian_, hartily -thanking her, for delivering 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 respective birth and breeding, well deserving -this gracious favour which you have 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 reverence, expressing so much thankefulnesse as possibly hee -could, for this her extraordinary grace and favour. - -The Lady fixing a stedfast eye upon him, well liking his gentle -language and behaviour, perceiving also, how fitly her deceased -husbands apparell was formed to his person, and resembling him in all -familiar respects, he appeared (in her judgement) farre beyond the -Chambermaides commendations of him; so praying him to sit downe by her -before the fire, shee questioned with him, concerning this unhappy -nights accident befalne him, wherein he fully resolved her, and shee -was the more perswaded, by reason of his servants comming into the -Towne before night, assuring him, that he should be found for him early -in the morning. - -Supper being served in to the Table, and hee seated according as the -Lady commanded, shee began to observe 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 joviall youthfulnesse of his time, and truest -temper for amorous apprehension; all these were as battering engines -against a Bulwarke of no strong resistance, and wrought strangely upon -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 motive -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, and a sound -stability in his estate, but above all (and best of all) the single and -sole condition of a batcheler; an apt and easie steele to strike fire, -especially upon such quicke taking tinder, and in a time favoured by -Fortune. - -No imbarment remained, but remembrance of the Marquesse, and that being -summond to her more advised consideration, her youth and beauty stood -up as conscious accusers, for blemishing her honour and faire repute, -with lewd and luxurious life; farre unfit for a Lady of her degree, and -well worthy of generall condemnation. What should I further say? upon a -short conference with her Chambermaide, repentance for sinne past, and -solemne promise of a constant conversion, thus shee delivered her minde -to _Rinaldo_. - -Sir, as you have 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 living so perfectly in your person; -this house, and all mine, is yours; and of a widow I will become your -wife, except (unmanly) you denie me. _Rinaldo_ hearing these words, -and proceeding from a Lady of such absolute perfections, presuming -upon so proud an offer, and condemning himselfe of folly if he should -refuse it, thus replied. Madam, considering that I stand bound for ever -hereafter, to confesse that you are the gracious preserver 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 -service: let me die before a thought of deniall, or any way to yeeld -you the least discontentment. - -Here wanted but a Priest to joyne their hands, as mutuall affection -already had done their hearts, which being sealed with infinite kisses; -the Chamber-maide called up Friar _Roger_ her Confessor, and wedding -and bedding were both effected before the bright morning. In briefe, -the Marquesse having heard of the marriage, did not mislike it, but -confirmed it by great and honourable gifts; and having sent for his -dishonest servant, he dispatched him (after sound reprehension) to -_Ferrara_, with Letters to _Rinaldoes_ Father and friends, of all the -accidents that had befalne him. Moreover, the very same morning, the -three theeves, 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 having 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 -Uncles losses, and seating them againe in good estate._ - -The third Novell. - -_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 devotion -to Saint _Julian_, who (in such extreame necessity) sent him so good -succour. Nor was the Lady to be blamed, for leaving base liberty, and -converting to the chaste embraces of the marriage bed, the dignity -of womens honour, and eternall disgrace living 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 observe, 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 judgement) or setled order (at -least) that can bee knowne to us. Now, although these things appeare -thus daily to us, even 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 -unprofitable for the hearers, nor unpleasing in observation. - -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 derive him of the _Agolanti_; guiding (perhaps) -their opinion heerein, more from the traine of children, belonging -to the saide _Thebaldo_ (evermore 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 selves rich in readie monies -and revennewes, without any other government then their owne voluntary -disposition, kept no restraint upon their expences, but maintained many -servants, and store of unvalewable 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 revennewes suffised -not, to support such lavish 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 themselves quickly come to nothing, -and then poverty opened their eyes, which prodigality had before -closed up. Heereupon, _Lamberto_ (on a day) calling his Brethren to -him, shewed them what the honours of their Father had beene, to what -height his wealth amounted, and now to what an ebbe of poverty it was -falne, onely thorow their inordinate expences. Wherefore hee counselled -them, (as best he could) before further misery insulted over them; to -make sale of the small remainder that was left, and then to betake -themselves unto some other abiding, where fairer Fortune might chance -to shine uppon them. - -This advice prevailed with them; and so, without taking leave of any -body, or other solemnity then closest secrecy, they departed from -_Florence_, not tarrying in any place untill they were arrived in -_England_. Comming to the City of London, and taking there a small -house upon yearly rent, living on so little charge as possible might -be, they began to lend out money at use: wherein Fortune was so -favourable 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 themselves in marriage, -and yet continuing their usances in England; they sent a Nephew of -theirs thither, named _Alessandro_, a yong man, and of faire demeanour, -to maintaine their stocke in employment: while they three remained -still at _Florence_, and growing forgetful of their former misery, fell -againe into as unreasonable expences as ever, never respecting their -houshold charges, because they had good credite among the Merchants, -and the monies still sent from _Alessandro_, supported their expences -divers 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, upon -engagement of their Manours, Castles, and other revennues: from whence -he derived immeasurable benefite. While the three Brethren held on -in their lavish expences, borrowing moneys when they wanted untill -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 living in hope day by day, that peace would be concluded -betweene the Father and the Sonne, he never doubted, but all things -then should be restored to him, both the principall and interest, & -therefore 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 come 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 Wives and yong children being sent thence, some to one -village, some to another, so that nothing now was to be expected, but -poverty & misery of life forever. - -As for honest _Alessandro_, who had awaited long time for peace in -England, perceyving there was no likelyhood of it; and considering -also, that (beside his tarrying there in vaine to recover 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 journeying thence, being cloathed -in white, accompanied with divers 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 -having 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 travaile 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 use to do, when they ride upon the High-wayes. - -It chanced on a day, that _Alessandro_ rode somewhat neere to the -Abbot, who stedfastly beholding him, perceived that he was a verie -comely young man, so affable, lovely, and gracious, that even in -this first encounter, he hadde never 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 travelled. _Alessandro_ imparted freely to him all his affaires, in -every thing satisfying his demands, and offering (although his power -was small) to doe him all the service he could. - -When the Abbot had heard his gentle answers, so wisely & discreetly -delivered, 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. Wherefore, taking -compassion on his great misfortunes, he comforted him very kindly, -wishing him to live 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 -journied towards _Tuscany_, as he himselfe did the like, to continue -still (if he pleased) in his company. _Alessandro_ most humbly thanked -him for such gracious comfort; protesting, that he would be alwaies -ready, to doe whatsoever he commanded. - -The Abbot riding on, with newer crochets in his braine, then hee had -before the sight of _Alessandro_; it fortuned, that after divers dayes -of travaile, 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 provide 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 provided for his -traine in the Village, some in one place, and others elsewhere, in the -best manner that the Towne could yeelde. But when the Abbot had supt, a -great part of the night being spent, and every one else at his rest; -_Alessandro_ demaunded of the Host, what provision 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: Neverthelesse, next adjoining 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 serve 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 have lodgd his Monkes -in those Corn-lofts, and then both you and I might have slept where now -they do. But feare you not, my Lords Curtaines are close drawne, hee -sleepeth (no doubt) soundly, and I can conveigh you thither quietly -enough, without the least disturbance to him, and a Pallet-bed shal -be fitted there for you. _Alessandro_ perceyving, 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 never have -the like offer againe, or ever 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_, advising -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 favour. - -The Abbot, laying his arme over the others body, began to imbrace and -hugge him; even as amorous friends (provoked by earnest affection) -use to do. Whereat _Alessandro_ very much marvayling, and being an -_Italian_ himselfe, fearing least this folly in the Abbot, would -convert to foule and dishonest action, shrunk modestly from him. Which -the Abbot perceiving, and doubting, least _Alessandro_ would depart -and leave him, pleasantly smiling, and with bashfull behaviour, 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 resolve 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 Ivory; whereby he perceived, 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, upon thy lives perill, and -before thou further presume to touch me, understand what I shall tell -thee. I am (as thou perceivest) no man, but a woman; and departing -a Virgin from my Fathers House, am travelling 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 -ever, I know not; I conceived such an effectuall kinde of liking -towards thee, as never did woman love a man more truly, then I doe -thee, having 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 upon -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 overthrow, and his -great losses in _England_; wherefore, upon 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 upon the wall; before which, and calling him to witnesse, that -suffered such bitter and cruell torments on his Crosse, putting a Ring -upon 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 Loves acceptation, and so they journied on till they came to -_Rome_. - -When they had rested themselves there for some few dayes, the supposed -Abbot, with the two Knights, and none else in company but _Alessandro_, -went before the Pope, and having done him such reverence as beseemed, -the Abbot began to speake in this manner. - -Holy Father (as you know much better then any other) every one that -desireth to live 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 live within -the compasse of a vertuous conversation, may perfect my hopes in this -behalfe: I have fled from my Fathers Court, and am come hither in this -habite as you see, to crave therein your holy and fatherly furtherance. -I am daughter to the King of _England_, and have sufficiently furnished -my selfe with some of his treasures, that your holinesse may bestow -me in marriage; because mine unkind Father, never regarding my youth -and beauty (inferior to few in my native Country) would marry me to -the King of _North-wales_, 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 unstained life, lewd and -dishonest desires might make me to wander, by breaking the divine Lawes -of wedlocke, and abusing the royall blood of my Father. - -As I travailed 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 -civill demeanour, deserveth a Lady of farre greater worth, although -(perhaps) nobility in blood be denied him, and may make him seeme not -so excellent, as one derived from Royall discent. Holy and religious -vowes have past betweene us both, and the Ring on his finger, is the -firme pledge of my faith and constancie; never 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 have so solemnely -vowed it, that no disaster whatsoever 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 live in Gods feare, and dye in -his favour. - -Perswade your selves (faire Ladies) that _Alessandro_ was in no meane -admiration, when hee heard, that his wife was daughter to the King of -_England_; unspeakeable joy (questionlesse) wholly overcame him: but -the two Knights were not a little troubled and offended, at such a -strange and unexpected 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, -perceiving there was no resistance to be made against it, hee yeelded -the more willingly to satisfie her desire. And therefore, having first -comforted the two Knights, and made peace betweene them, the Princesse -and _Alessandro_; he gave 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 every eye was -highly delighted to behold her, commending her with no mean admiration. -In like manner was _Alessandro_ greatly honoured by the two Knights, -being most sumptuous in appearance, and not like a man that had lent -money to usury, 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 devised, hee gave them his -benediction, and licenced their departure thence. - -_Alessandro_, his Princesse and her traine thus leaving _Rome_, they -would needes visite _Florence_, where the newes of this accident was -(long before) noysed, and they received by the Citizens in royall -manner. There did shee deliver the three brethren out of prison, -having first payed all their debts, and reseated them againe (with -their wives) in their former inheritances and possessions. Afterward, -departing from _Florence_, and _Agolanto_, one of the Uncles travailing -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 prevailed so succesfully with the King; that hee -received his daughter into grace and favour, as also his Sonne in law -her husband, to whom hee gave 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 love and favour of all the people; and -_Agolanto_ (by the meanes of _Alessandro_) recovered all that was -due to him and his brethren in _England_, returning richly home to -_Florence_, Counte _Alessandro_ (his kinsman) having first dubd him -Knight. Longtime hee lived in peace and tranquility, with the faire -Princesse his wife, proving 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 poverty, became a Pirate on the Seas, -and being taken by the Genewayes, hardly escaped drowning: Which -yet (neverthelesse) he did, upon a little Chest or Coffer, full of -very rich Jewels, 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 Novell. - -_Whereby may be discerned, into how many dangers a man may fall, -through a covetous 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 never behold (in -mine opinion) a greater act of Fortune, then to see a man so suddainly -exalted, even from the lowest depth of poverty, to a Royall estate of -dignity; as the discourse of Madame _Pampinea_ hath made good, by the -happy advancement of _Alessandro_. And because it appeareth necessary, -that whosoever discourseth on the subject 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 howsoever 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 upon 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 _Ravello_, 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 coveting 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, lading it with divers -sorts of Merchandizes, all belonging to himselfe onely, and making his -voyage to the Isle of _Cyprus_. Where he found, over and beside the -Merchandizes he had brought thither, many Ships more there arrived, -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 utter destruction -and overthrow. Whereupon, grieving exceedingly at so great a losse, -not knowing what to doe, and seeing, that from very aboundant wealth, -hee was likely to fall into as low poverty: hee resolved to dye, or to -recompence his losses upon others, because he would not returne home -poore, having 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 use of a -Pirate, arming and furnishing it in ample manner, for roving and -robbing upon 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 favourable to him, that hee could never 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 -recovered, not onely of all his losses by Merchandize, but likewise his -wealth was wholly redoubled. Finding his losses to be very liberally -requited, and having 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 covet after more: he fully concluded, now -to returne home to his owne house againe, and live upon his goods thus -gotten. - -Continuing still in feare, of the losses he had sustained by traffique, -& minding, never 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 over-taking -them, and a mighty winde suddainly comming upon them: it not onely was -contrary to their course, but held on with such impetuous violence; -that the small vessell, being unable to endure it, made to land-ward -speedily, and in expectation of a more friendly wind, entred a little -port of the Sea, directing up 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 uppe her passage from getting foorth; -understanding the Owners name, and that report had famed him to be very -rich, they determined (as men evermore addicted naturally, to covet -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 over-boord, without -sparing any but _Landolpho_ himselfe, whom they mounted into one of -the Carrackes, leaving him nothing but a poore shirt of Maile on his -backe, and having 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 againe, having a prosperous passage all the -day long; but uppon 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 -even 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 save their lives by -swimming. Others caught hold on such things, as by Fortunes favour -floated neerest to them, among whom, distressed _Landolpho_, desirous -to save 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 poverty; yet, -seeing how other men strove for safety of their lives by any helpe, -were it never so little, he tooke advantage of this favour offred him, -and the rather in a necessitie so urgent. Keeping fast upon the Coffer -so well as he could, and being driven by the winds & waves, one while -this way, and anon quite contrarie, he made shift for himselfe till day -appeared; when looking every way about him, seeing nothing but clouds, -the seas and the Coffer, which one while shrunke from under him, and -another while supported him, according as the windes and billowes -carried it: all that day and night thus he floated up and downe, -drinking more then willingly hee would, but almost hunger-starved -thorow want of foode. The next morning, either by the appointment -of heaven, or power of the Windes, _Landolpho_ who was (well-neere) -become a Spundge, holding his armes strongly about the Chest, as wee -have seene some doe, who (dreading drowning) take hold on any the very -smallest helpe; drew neere unto 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 service; but even as the waves and windes pleased, the -Chest was driven still neerer to the Land, and then the woman perceived -that it had the forme of a Coffer, and looking more advisedly, beheld -two armes extended over it, and afterward, shee espied the face of a -man, not being able to judge, whether he were alive, or no. Moved 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 unfolded his armes from the Chest, setting it up on -her Daughters head, and then betweene them, _Landolpho_ was led into -the Towne, and there conveyed into a warme Stove, where quickly he -recovered (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 upon the waves, and -(next under God) had saved 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. Neverthelesse, 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. Having 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 deliverance -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 up the Jewels in -very unsightly cloutes, that no suspition at all should be conceived -of them, hee saide to the good woman, that the Chest would not doe him -any further service; but if shee pleased to lende him a small sacke or -bagge, shee might keepe the Cofer, for in her house it would divers -way stead her. The woman gladly did as he desired, and _Landolpho_ -returning her infinite thankes, for the loving 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 _Ravello_, hee fell on his knees, and -thanked God for all his mercies towards him. Then opening the sacke, -and viewing the Jewels 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 having 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 saved his life in a danger so dreadfull: The like -hee did to _Tranium_, to the Merchants that had newly cloathed him; -living richly upon the remainder, and never adventuring more to the -Sea, but ended his dayes in wealth and honour. - - - - -Andrea de Piero, _travelling 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 Novell. - -_Comprehending, how needfull a thing it is, for a man that travelleth -in affaires of the World, to be provident and well advised, and -carefully to keepe himselfe from the crafty and deceitfull allurements -of Strumpets._ - - -The precious Stones and Jewels found by _Landolpho_, maketh mee -to remember (said Madam _Fiammetta_, who was next to deliver 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 unto you. - -As I have heard reported by many, there sometime lived in _Perouse_ -or _Perugia_, 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 five hundred Crownes of gold in his purse, and -journeyed thither in the company of other Horse-coursers, arriving -there on a Sunday in the evening. According to instructions given him -by his Host, he went the next day into the Horse-market, where he saw -very many Horses that he liked, cheapening their prices as he went up -and downe, but could fall to no agreement; yet to manifest that he came -purposely to buy, and not as a cheapener onely, often times (like a -shalow-brainde trader in the world) he shewed his purse of gold before -all passengers, never respecting who, or what they were that observed -his follie. - -It came to passe, that a young _Sicillian_ wench (very beautifull, but -at commaund of whosoever would, and for small hire) passing then by, -and (without his perceiving) 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 _Sicillian_ also, who so soone as shee saw _Andrea_, knew him, -and, leaving her youthfull commodity, ranne to him, and embraced him -very kindly. Which when the younger Lasse perceived, 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 _Andreaes_ purse, upon the olde -womans comming backe to her (having 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 have 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 service. Calling -a young crafty Girle to her, whom she had well tutoured in the like -ambassages, when evening 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 favour. - -_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 (undoubtedly) 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 love 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 leaving 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 _Malpertuis_, a title manifesting sufficiently the streetes -honesty: but hee, having 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 up a faire payre of stayres, which he having more then -halfe ascended, the cunning young Queane gave a call to her Mistresse, -saying; _Signior 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 observing, & 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, even as if she were unable to -utter one word, seeming hindered by extremity of joy at his presence, -and to make him effectually admire her extraordinary kindnesse, having -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 novice 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 marvell 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 never heard any Speeches of me: but you shall -instantly receive from mee matter to augment your greater marvell, -meeting heere with your owne sister, beyond all hope or expectation in -either of us both. But seeing that Heaven hath beene so gracious to me, -to let mee see one of my brethren before I die (though gladly I would -have seene them all) which is some addition of comfort to me, and that -which (happily) thou hast never heard before, in plaine and truest -manner, I will reveale unto thee. - -_Piero_, my Father and thine, dwelt long time (as thou canst not chuse -but to have understood) 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 loving 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 love him; so that forgetting the feare of her -Father, brethren, yea, and her owne honour, they became so privately -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, -never after (for ought that I could learne) once remembring either -her or me: so that (if he had not beene my Father) I could have much -condemned him, in regard of his ingratitude to my Mother, and love -which hee ought to have 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 (moved -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, gave mee in -marriage to one of the _Gergentes_ Family, a Gentleman, and of great -revenewes, who in his love 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 discovered to _Fredericke_ King of _Arragon_, before their intent -could be put in execution, whereupon, we were enforced to flie from -_Sicilie_, even when my hope stood fairely to have beene the greatest -Lady in all the Iland. Packing up then such few things as wee could -take with us, 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 us, that recompencing -the greater part of our losses, he bestowed Lands and Houses on us -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 delivered, composed from -point to point, with such likely protestations, without faltring or -failing in any one words utterance; 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 -upon her silence, thus he replied. Lady, let it not seeme strange to -you, that your words have raised marvell in me, because (indeede) I -had no knowledge of you, even no more then as if I had never seene -you, never also having heard my Father to speake either of you or your -Mother (for some considerations best knowne to himselfe) or if at any -time he used such language, either my youth then, or defective memory -since, hath utterly lost it. But truly, it is no little joy 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 soever, but you may well -beseeme his acceptance, much rather then mine, that am but a meane -Merchant. But faire sister, I desire to be resolved in one thing, to -wit, by what meanes you had understanding 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 (having 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 have 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 whatsoever shee saide, farre better then before. - -Their conference having 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 have 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 perceive brother, how little account you make of me, -considering, you are with your owne Sister, who (you say) you never 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. Beleeve 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 love you as a Sister -ought to be loved, 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 untill I come. For that (quoth shee) we -have a present remedy, one of my servants shal goe and give warning, -whereby they shall not tarry your comming. Albeit, you might doe me a -great kindnesse, to send for your friends to sup with us 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 urged him so farre, he would -stay to sup with her, and referred himselfe solely to her disposition. - -Ceremonious shew was made, of sending a servant to the Inne, for not -expecting _Andreas_ presence at Supper, though no such matter was -performed; but, after divers other discoursings, the table being -covered, 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 leave, she would (by no meanes) suffer it, -but tolde him that _Naples_ was a Citie of such strict Lawes and -Ordinances, as admitted no night-walkers, although they were Natives, -much lesse strangers, but punished them with great severity. 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 give 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, leaving _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 underneath the beds boulster, as -seeming carefull of his money. But finding a provocation 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 upon a board, -which was fastened at neither ende to the joynts 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 receive no harme in the fall (although it was of extraordinary -height) onely the filth of the place, (it being over full) had fowly -myred him. - -Now for your better understanding the quality of the place, and what -ensued thereupon, it is not unnecessary to describe it, according to -a common use observed in those parts. There was a narrow passage or -entrie, as often we see reserved betweene two houses, for eithers -benefit to such a needfull place; and boards loosely lay upon the -joynts, which such as were acquainted withall, could easily avoide any -perill, in passing to or from the stoole. But our so newly created -brother, not dreaming to find a queane to his Sister, receiving 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, who intended not to give 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 under the beds -head, shee needed no instruction for search in his pockets. But having -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_ perceiving, 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 understanding his error, though somewhat too late, hee -made such meanes constrainedly, that he got over a wall, which severed -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 have I lost a Sister, and -five hundred Crownes besides? with many other words, loude calles, and -beatings upon the doore without intermission, the neighbours finding -themselves diseased, and unable 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 knave, 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 us to sleepe I pray thee. How now (quoth -_Andrea_) doest thou not understand 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 give 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 recovery, which moving him to the more impatience, his former -intercessions became converted into fury, and what hee could not -compasse by faire entreats, he entended to winne by outrage and -violence, so that taking up a great stone in his hand, hee layed -upon 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 used those -counterfeit 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 reprove him, even 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 unseasonable time of the night. For Gods sake -(good man) be gone, and let us sleepe; if thou have 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 up, 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 received in no honest -quarels, yawning also and stretching, as angry to have 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 -never better beaten in all thy life, like a drunken slave and beast as -thou art, that all this night wilt not let us 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 ugly sight of the Ruffian, incited also by the neighbours -counsell, whom he imagined to advise 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 offensive to himselfe: that, -desiring to wash him at the Sea side, he strayed too farre wide on the -contrary hand, wandring up the streete called _Ruga Gatellana_. - -Proceeding on still, even 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 stept 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 divers 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 -ever I felt in all my life. So, lifting up 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 having now no other evasion, but that (of necessity) all -must out: hee related to them the whole adventure, 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, beleeve 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 againe the least -doyt of thy losse. And for that shag-haird Slave in the house, he will -be thy deaths-man, if he but understand, 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, wherefore, if thou wilt friendly associate us, 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 adventure 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 Minutolo_, in his richest pontificall -roabes and ornaments, and a Ruby on his finger, valued to be worth five -hundred duckets of gold: this dead body they purposed to rob and rifle, -acquainting _Andrea_ with their whole intent, whose necessity (coupled -with a covetous desire) made him more forward then well advised, to -joyne with them in this sacriligious enterprise. On they went towards -the great Church, _Andreaes_ unsavourie perfume much displeasing them, -whereupon the one said to his fellow. Can we devise no ease for this -foule and noysome inconvenience? the very smell of him will be a meanes -to betray us. 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 up 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, perceiving -the Watch so neere upon them: left _Andrea_ in the Pit to shift for -himselfe, running away to shelter themselves. Their flight was not -discovered by the Watch, but they comming to the Well-pit, _Andrea_ -remained still in the bottome, and having cleansed himselfe so well as -hee could, sate wagging the rope, expecting when hee should be haled -up. 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 up the rope, thinking the Bucket was fastened thereto, and -full of water. _Andrea_ being haled up 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 up 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 have 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 mervaile 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 -resolve 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 up, for feare of whom they left him, and so declared to -him the reason of their returne. - -Leaving 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 cover-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 -advised what thou sayest, for, if thou wilt not goe in: we will so beat -thee with one of these yron crowes, that thou shalt never goe out of -this Church alive. - -Thus poore _Andrea_ is still made a property, and Fortune (this fatall -night) will have no other foole but he, as delighting in his hourly -disasters. Feare of their fury makes him obedient, into the grave he -goes, and being within, thus consults with himselfe. These cunning -companions suppose me to be simple, & make me enter the Tombe, having -an absolute intention to deceive me. For, when I have given 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 leaving -me here, not onely shall I loose my right among them, but must remaine -to what danger may follow after. Having thus meditated, he resolved -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, Gloves and all, leaving him -nothing but his shirt, giving them all these severall parcels; -protesting, that there was nothing else. Still they pressed upon him, -affirming that there was a Ring beside, urging 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 up in the grave. Which -when he perceived, 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 utmost strength he -employeth, to remove that over-heavy hinderer of his liberty: but all -his labour beeing spent in vaine, sorrow threw him in a swoond upon -the Byshoppes dead body, where if both of them might at that instant -have bene observed, 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 unavoydable extremities. Dye -starving must he in the tombe, with putrifaction of the dead body; or -if any man came to open the Grave, then must he be apprehended as a -sacrilegious Theefe, and so be hanged, according to the lawes in that -case provided. - -As he continued in these strange afflictions of minde, sodainely hee -heard a noise in the Church of divers men, who (as he imagined) came -about the like businesse, as hee and his fellowes had undertaken -before; wherein he was not a jot deceived, albeit his feare the more -augmented. Having opened the Tombe, and supported the stone, they -varied also among themselves 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-liver'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. Having 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 upright in the Tombe, and desiring to make use 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 divels. _Andrea_ -little dreaming on such fortunate successe, made meanes to get out of -the grave, and afterward forth of the Church, at the very same place -where he entred. - -Now began day-light to appeare, when hee, having the rich Ring on his -finger, wandred on hee knew not whether: till comming to the Sea-side, -he found the way directing to his Inne, where all his company were -with his Host, who had bene very carefull for him. Having related his -manifold mischances, his Hoste friendly advised him with speede to get -him out of _Naples_. As instantly he did, returning home to _Perouse_, -having adventured his five hundred Crownes on a Ring, where-with hee -purposed to have bought Horses, according to the intent of his journey -thither. - - - - -_Madame Beritola Caracalla, was found in an Island with two Goates, -having lost her two Sonnes, and thence travailed into Lunigiana: where -one of her Sonnes became servant to the Lord thereof, and was found -somewhat over-familiar 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 Novell. - -_Heerein all men are admonished, never to distrust the powerfull hand -of Heaven, when Fortune seemeth to be most adverse against them._ - - -The Ladies and Gentlemen also, having smiled sufficiently at the -severall accidents which did befall the poore Traveller _Andrea_, -reported at large by Madame _Fiammetta_, the Lady _Æmillia_, seeing her -tale to be fully concluded, began (by commandement of the Queene) to -speake in this manner. - -The diversitie of changes and alterations in Fortune as they are great, -so must they needs be greevous; and as often as we take occasion to -talk of them, as often do they awake and quicken our understandings, -avouching, that it is no easie matter to depend upon her flatteries. -And I am of opinion, that to heare them recounted, ought not any way -to offend us, be it of men wretched or fortunate; because, as they -enstruct the one with good advise, so they animate the other with -comfort. And therefore, although great occasions have 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 beleeve, -that ever any sorrow was more joyfully sweetened. - -You must understand then (most gracious Ladies) that after the death -of _Fredericke_ the second Emperour, one named _Manfred_, was crowned -King of _Sicilie_, about whom lived 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 government of the Kingdome of -_Sicilie_, and understanding, that King _Charles_ the first, had wonne -the battle of _Beneventum_, and slaine King _Manfred_; the whole -Kingdome revolting also to his devotion, and little trust to be reposed -in the _Sicillians_, or he willing to subject himselfe to his Lords -enemy; provided for his secret flight from thence. But this being -discovered to the _Sicillians_, he and many more, who had beene loyall -servants 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 inconveniences which afterward followed; being overcome -with many passionate considerations, having 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_. - -Having provided 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 favour their -voyage. - -As the rest, so did Madam _Beritola_ goe on shore in the Iland, where -having 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, unseene by any of the Marriners, or whosoever -else: there arrived 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 perceyved, -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 uppon the shore. - -Now was not any body neere, with coole water or any other remedy, to -helpe the recovery 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 Caves, Dennes, and every 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 respective of her -selfe, & therefore departing from the sea-shore, she returned to the -solitary place, where she used to sigh and mourne alone by her selfe. - -The night being over-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 travailes. 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 hearbes so well as she could, not without many piercing -afflictions, what should become of her in this extraordinary misery. As -shee walked in these pensive meditations, she saw a Goate enter into -a Cave, 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 delivery in child-bed; wherefore shee lay downe unto 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 lovingly as their dammes, and from that time forward, they made -no distinguishing betweene their damme and her. Thus this unfortunate -Lady, having 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 manner. Here shee resolved now to live and -dye, being at last deprived both of the damme and yonger Kids also, by -theyr wandering further into the neere adjoining Woods, according to -their Naturall inclinations; whereby the poore distressed Lady became -more savage and wilde in her daily conditions, then otherwise shee -would have bene. - -After many monthes were over-passed, at the very same place where -she tooke landing; by chance, there arrived another small vessell of -certaine _Pisans_, which remained there divers 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, -having 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, servants, and waiting -hounds, wandered up 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 themselves thus pursued -by the hounds, fled to no other part of the wood, then to the Cave -where _Beritola_ remained, and seeming as if they sought to be rescued -only by her, she sodainly caught up 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 -(upon her request) _Conrado_ had checkt back his hounds, they prevailed -so much by earnest intreaties, to know what she was, and the reason of -her living there; that she intirely related her quality, unfortunate -accidents, and strange determination for living 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 ever -she had done before. - -When these gentle offers could not prevaile 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 wives, 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 Cave altogether, prettily playing before _Beritola_, to the great -admiration of _Conrado_ and his wife, as also the servants attending on -them. - -When the windes and weather grew favourable for them, Madam _Beritola_ -went aboard with _Conrado_ and his wife, being followed by the two -young Goates and their 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 River 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 division of their -booties. It came to passe, that (among other things) the Nurse that -attended on _Beritola_, and the two Children with her, fell to the -share of one _Messer Gasparino d'Oria_, who sent them together to his -owne House, there to be employed in service as servants. 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 utterly fruitlesse -and to none effect, though she was used as a servant with them, and -being but a very poore woman, yet was shee wise and discreetly advised. -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 advantaged thereby. - -Hereupon, hoping that Fortune (early or late) would alter her stearne -malice, and that they might (if they lived) regaine once more their -former condition: shee would not disclose them to any one whatsoever, -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, naming the eldest not _Geoffrey_, -but _Jehannot de Procida_. [Sidenote: Or Grannotto da Prochyta.] As -for the youngest, shee cared not greatly for changing his name, and -therefore wisely enformed _Geoffrey_, upon what reason shee had altered -his name, and what danger he might fall into, if he should otherwise -be discovered; 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 observe. - -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 _Jehannot_, aged already about sixteene yeeres, having a loftier -spirit, then belonged to a slavish servant, despising the basenesse -of his servile 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 advancement. In the ende, about three or foure yeares after -his departure from _Gasparino_, being now a brave young man, and of -very goodly forme: he understood, that his Father (whom he supposed -to be dead) was as yet living; but in captivity, 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 servant to _Messer Conrado Malespina_, -where the service proved 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. _Jehannot_ being thus in the service 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 above sixteene; growing wonderously amorous of _Jehannot_, and -he of her, in extraordinary and most fervent manner; which love was not -long without full effect, continuing many moneths before any person -could perceive 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 providently -managed. - -Upon a day, he and shee walking to a goodly wood, plentifully furnished -with spreading Trees, having 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 -over-short to them, yet was it so unadvisedly prolonged; that they -were on a sudden surprized, first by the Mother, and next by _Messer -Conrado_ himselfe: who greeving beyond measure, to be thus trecherously -dealt withall, caused them to be apprehended by three of his servants, -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, having heard the angry words -of her Husband, and how hee would be revenged on the faultie; could -not endure that he should be so severe: 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, and 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 servant. -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 used such plenty of -mooving 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 uneasiest, -untill hee should otherwise determine of them, and so it was done. What -their life now was in captivity and continuall teares, with stricter -abstinence then was needefull for them; all this I must commit to your -consideration. - -_Jehannot_ 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 John de Procida_, caused the Isle of _Sicily_ to -revolt, and tooke it away from King _Charles_, whereat _Conrado_ (he -being of the _Ghibbiline_ faction) not a little rejoyced. _Jehannot_ -having intelligence thereof, 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 have already gone begging through the -world above 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 never 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 _Jehannot_ sighed extreamly, and returned him this answer. -Me thinkes my heart (quoth hee) doth cleave 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 Governour there, at such time as King _Manfred_ lived. The Guard, -pursuing on still his purpose, demanded of him, what, and who his -Father was? My Father (replyed _Jehannot_) I may now securely speake of -him, being out of the perill which neerely concerned me if I had beene -discovered. He was the named (and so still if he be living) _Henriet -Capece_, and my name is _Geoffrey_, not _Jehannot_; and I make no -doubt, but if I were 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 having heard these newes (albeit he made no shew -thereof to the revealer) 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 -living, 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 prove so: he might have the -better meanes of mercie, and closely concealing his daughters shame, -joyfully joyne them in marriage together. - -Hereupon he secretly caused _Jehannot_ 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. -_Jehannot_, thou knowest how great the injuries are which thou hast -done me, & my deare daughter, gently entreating thee (as became a good -& honest servant) that thou shouldest alwayes have bin respective of -mine honour, and all that do appertain unto me. There are many noble -Gentlemen, who sustaining the wrong which thou hast offred me, they -would have procured thy shameful death, which pitty & compassion will -not suffer in me. Wherefore seeing (as thou informest me) that thou art -honourably derived both by father & mother; I will give end to all thine -anguishes, even when thy self art so pleased, releasing thee from the -misery & captivity, wherein I have so long time kept thee, and in one -instant, reduce thine honour & mine into compleat perfection. As thou -knowest, my Daughter _Spina_, whom thou hast embraced in kindnesse as -a friend (although farre unfitting 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 misshapen _Jehannot_ in his outward forme, -but not impaired a jot of that noble spirit, really derived from his -famous progenitors, much lesse the true love 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 -resolved judgement, thus replied. My Lord, affectation of rule, desire -of wealthy possessions, or any other matter whatsoever, could never -make me a traytor to you or yours; but that I have loved, do love & for -ever shal love your beautious daughter; if that be treason, I freely -confesse it, & will die a thousand deaths, before you or any else shal -enforce me to denie it; for I hold her highly worthy of my love. If I -have bin more unmannerly with her, then became me, according to the -opinion of vulgar judgment, I have committed but that error, which -evermore is so attendant upon youth; that to denie it, is to denie -youth also. And if reverend age would but remember, that once he was -young, & measure others offences by his own; they would not be thought -so great or greevous, as you (& many more) account them to be, mine -being committed as a friend, & not as an enemy: what you make offer -of so willingly to do, I have alwayes desired, & if I had thought it -would have bin granted, long since I had most humbly requested it; and -so much the more acceptable would it have 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 love to your Daughter -_Spina_, maketh mee to love you the more for her sake; how hardly -soever you entreate me, & bindeth me in the greater reverence 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 fervent to his Daughter, which was not 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 meager, 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 _Jehannot_; 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) having -furnished them with all things fit for the purpose, and time aptly -serving, that the Mothers should be partakers in this joy; 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 unto 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 unto 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 Love, 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 joyfull. So when the amorous couple had recovered their former -feature, and honourable garments were prepared for them, privately thus -he said to _Geoffrey_; Beyond the joy which already thou art inriched -withall, how would it please thee to meet with thine owne Mother here? -I cannot beleeve Sir, replied _Geoffrey_, that her greevous misfortunes -have suffered her to live so long: yet notwithstanding, if Heaven -hath beene so merciful to her, my joyes were incomparable, for by her -gracious counsell, I might well hope to recover no meane happinesse in -_Sicilie_. Within a while after, both the Mothers were sent for, who -were transported with unspeakable joyes, 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, -joyning _Jehannot_ in mariage with _Spina_. Hereupon Madam _Beritola_, -remembring the speeches between her and _Conrado_, began to observe -him very advisedly, and by a hidden vertue, which long had silently -slept in her, and now with joy 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 joy and pitty now contended so violently together, that shee -was not able to utter one word, the sensitive vertues being so closely -combined, that (even 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. Neverthelesse, -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 understanding, that he had not -before beene better advised, he threw his armes about her, and wept -exceedingly. - -Afterward, by the loving paines of _Conradoes_ wife, as also her -daughter _Spina_, Madam _Beritola_ (being recovered 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 over and over, to no little joy in all the beholders, beside -repetition of their severall 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_ having found out fit place and -opportunity, for conference with his new created Father, without any -sinister opposition; began as followeth. - -Honourable Father, you have raised my contentment to the highest -degree, and have heaped also many gracious favours on my noble Mother; -but now in the finall conclusion, that nothing may remaine uneffected, -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 have my Brother present. _Messer Gasparino -d'Oria_ (as I have once heretofore told you) questing as a common -Pyrate on the Seas, tooke us, and sent us home to his house as slaves, -where (as yet he detaineth him.) I would have you likewise send one -into _Sicilie_, who informing himselfe more amply in the state of -the Country; may understand what is become of _Henriet_ my Father, -and whether he be living or no. If he remaine alive, 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 _Genewaye_, and the other to _Sicilie_: -he which went for _Geneway_, having met with _Gasparino_, earnestly -entreated him, (on the behalfe of _Conrado_) to send him the _Poore -expelled_; and his Nurse recounting every thing in order, which -_Conrado_ had tolde him, concerning _Geoffrey_ and his Mother: when -_Gasparino_ had heard the whole discourse, he marvelled greatly -thereat, and saide; True it is, that I will doe any thing for _Messer -Conrado_, which may be to his love and liking, provided, 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 unto him. But you may tell him from me, that I -advise him from over-rash crediting the fables of _Jehannot_, that now -tearms 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. - -Having thus spoken, and giving kinde welcome to the Messenger, -secretly he called the Nurse unto him, whom he heedfully examined -concerning this case. Shee having heard the rebellion in the Kingdome -of _Sicilie_, and understanding withall, that _Henriet_ was yet living; -joyfully threw off all her former feare, relating every thing to him -orderly, and the reasons moving her, to conceale the whole businesse -in such manner as shee had done. _Gasparino_ well perceiving, that the -report of the Nurse, and the message received 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 devise, and finding -every thing to yeeld undoubted assurance; ashamed of the vile and base -usage, 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 living, he gave her to him in marriage, with -a very bountifull and honourable dowry. - -The joviall 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 joy of the Brethren and -Mother together, having also found the faithfull Nurse, _Gasparino_ -and his Daughter, in company now with _Conrado_ and his Wife, friends, -familiars, and all generally in a Jubilee of rejoycing: 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 universall joy; our Lord, a -most aboundant bestower where he beginneth, added long wished tydings, -concerning the life and good estate of _Henriet Capece_. For, even as -they were feasting, and the concourse great of worthy guests, both of -Lords and Ladies: the first service was scarcely set on the Tables, but -the Ambassador which was sent to _Sicilie_, arrived 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 let 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 delivery of publike -joy and exaltation, when his Wife and Sonne were knowne to be living, -of whom no tydings had at any time beene heard, since the houre of his -surprizall. Moreover, that a swift winged Barke was now sent thither -(upon 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 favours came unlooked for) -with certaine assurance, that when _Henriet_ should understand what hee -had done for his other Sonne, the _Poore expelled_; there would be no -defailance of riciprocall courtesies. - -As the longest joyes have no perpetuity of lasting, so all these -gracefull ceremonies had their conclusion, with as many sighes and -teares at parting, as joyes abounded at their first encountring. -Imagine then, that you see such aboard, as were to have here no longer -abiding, Madam _Beritola_ and _Geoffrey_, with the rest, as the _Poore -expelled_, the so late married Wives, and the faithfull Nurse bearing -them company. With prosperous windes they arrived in _Sicilie_, where -the Wife, Sonnes, and Daughters, were joyfully met by _Henriet_ at -_Palermo_, and with such honourable pompe, as a case so important -equally deserved. The Histories make further mention, that there they -lived (a long while after) in much felicity, with thankfull hearts (no -doubt) to Heaven, in acknowledgement of so many great mercies received. - - - - -_The Soldan of Babylon sent one of his Daughters, to be joyned in -marriage with the King of_ Cholcos; _who by divers 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 seaventh Novell. - -_A lively demonstration, that the beauty of a Woman, (oftentimes) is -very hurtfull to her selfe, and the occasion of many evils, yea, and of -death, to divers men._ - - -Peradventure the Novell related by Madam _Æmilia_, did not extend it -selfe so farre in length, as it moved 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 (upon 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 us to take -intire knowledge of every thing we doe, because (as oftentimes hath -beene observed) many men, imagining if they were rich, they should -live securely, and without any cares. And therefore, not onely have -their prayers and intercessions aimed at that end, but also their -studies and daily endeavours, without refusall of any paines or perils -have not meanely expressed their hourely solicitude. And although it -hath happened accordingly to them, and their covetous desires fully -accomplished; yet at length they have met with such kinde of people, -who likewise thirsting after their wealthy possessions, have 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 adventuring in many skirmishes and foughten battels, trampling in -the bloud of their brethren and friends, have beene mounted to the -soveraigne dignity of Kingdomes, (beleeving that therein consisted the -truest happinesse) but bought with the dearest price of their lives. -For, beside their infinite cares and feares, wherewith such greatnesse -is continually attended, at their royall Tables, they have drunke -poyson in a golden pot. Many other in like manner (with most earnest -appetite) have coveted beauty and bodily strength, not foreseeing with -any judgement, that these wishes were not without perill; when being -endued with them, they either have 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 us mortals, with entire foresight or -providence, 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 us, and will bestow them at his good pleasure. Nor let me lay this -blamefull imputation upon men onely, for offending in many things -through over lavish desires: because you your selves (gracious Ladies) -sinne highly in one, as namely, in coveting to be beautifull. So that -it is not sufficient for you, to enjoy 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 adventures) within -the compasse of foure yeares, nine severall times to be maried, and -onely for her beauty. - -It is now a long time since, that there lived a Soldane in _Babylon_, -named _Beminidab_, to whom (while he lived) many things happened, -answerable to his owne desires. Among divers other children both male -and female, he had a daughter, called _Alathiella_, and shee (according -to the common voyce of every one that saw her) was the fayrest Lady -then living 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 kindly -granted to him. A goodly and well armed Ship was prepared for her, -with full furnishment of all necessary provision, and accompanied with -an honourable traine, both Lords and Ladies, as also most costly and -sumptuous accoustrements; commending her to the mercy of heaven, in -this manner was shee sent away. - -The time being propitious for their parting thence, the Mariners -hoised their sayles, leaving 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 journeyes -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, gave over -all hope of escaping with life. Neverthelesse, as men most expert -in implacable dangers, they laboured to their uttermost power, and -contended with infinite blustring tempests, for the space of two dayes -and nights together, hoping the third day would prove more favourable. -But therein they saw themselves deceived, 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 marivall judgement, or any apprehension else whatsoever, the heavens -were so clouded, and the nights darknesse so extreame. - -Being (unknowne to them) neere the Isle of _Majorica_, they felt the -Ship to split in the bottome, by meanes whereof, perceiving now no hope -of escaping (every one caring for himselfe, and not any other) they -threw forth a Squiffe on the troubled waves, 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 prevailed, that what with the tempests violence, and -over-lading of the Squiffe, it sunke to the bottome, and all perished -that were therein. 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 driven into a strand of the Isle -_Majorica_, no other persons remaining therein; but onely the Lady -and her women, all of them (through the rude tempest, and their owne -conceived 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 up 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 jogging one, and then another, and calling them severally by -their names; shee found them bereft of understanding, and even as -if they were dead, their hearts were so quailed, and their feare so -over-ruling, which was no meane dismay to the poore Lady her selfe. -Neverthelesse, necessity now being her best counsallour, seeing her -selfe thus all alone, and not knowing in what place she was, she used -such meanes to them that were living, that (at the last) they came -better to knowledge of themselves. And being unable to guesse, what -was become of the men and Mariners, seeing the Ship also driven on the -sands, and filled with water: she began (with them) to lament most -grievously, 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 -urgent a necessity. - -At length, noone being past, a Gentleman, named _Bajazeth_, attended -by divers of his followers on horseback, and returning from a Country -house belonging to him, chanced to ride by on the sands. Upon 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 resolve his Lord what remayned therein. There -hee found the faire young Lady, with such small store of company as -was left her, fearefully hidden under the prow of the Ship. So soone -as they saw him, they held up their hands, wofully desiring mercy -of him: but he perceiving their lamentable condition, and that hee -understoode not what they said to them; their affliction grew the -greater, labouring by signes and gestures, to give him knowledge of -their misfortune. - -The servant, gathering what he could by their outward behaviour, -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 gave them comfort. By the rich garments which -the Lady was cloathed withall, hee reputed her to be a Gentlewoman -well derived, as the great reverence done to her by the rest, gave him -good reason to conceive. 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 lovely in the eye of -_Bajazeth_, whereupon forthwith he determined, that if she were not -maried, he would enjoy 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. - -_Bajazeth_ was a man of sterne lookes, rough and harsh both in speech -and behaviour: yet causing the Lady to be honourably used divers dayes -together, she became thereby well comforted and recovered. And seeing -her beauty to exceede all comparison, he was afflicted beyond measure, -that he could not understand 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 endeavour proved to no purpose, -for shee refused all familiar privacie with him, which so much the -more kindled the fury of his desire. This being well observed by the -Lady, having 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 advantage -her, beside, that long protraction of time would provoke _Bajazeth_, by -faire meanes or force to obtaine his will: she propounded to her selfe -(with magnanimity of spirit) to tread all misfortunes under her feete, -commaunding her women (whereof she had but three now remaining alive) -that they should not disclose what she was; except it were in some -such place, where manifest signes might yeeld hope of regaining their -liberty. Moreover, shee admonished them, stoutly to defend their honour -and chastity, affirming, that shee had absolutely resolved with her -selfe, that never any other should enjoy her, but her intended husband; -wherein her women did much commend her, promising to preserve their -reputation, according as she had commanded. - -Day by day were the torments of _Bajazeth_ wonderfully augmented, yet -still his kinde offers scornefully refused, and he as farre off from -compassing his desires, as when hee first began to moove the matter: -wherefore, perceiving that all faire courses served to no effect, hee -resolved to compasse his purpose by craft and subtilty, reserving -rigorous extremity for his finall conclusion. And having once observed, -that wine was very pleasing to the Lady, she being never used to drinke -any at all, because (by her Countries law) it was forbidden her, and no -meane store having beene lately brought to _Bajazeth_ in a Barke of -_Geneway_: hee resolved to surprize her by meanes thereof, as a chiefe -Minister of _Venus_, to heate the coolest blood. And seeming now in his -outward behaviour, as if he had given over his amorous pursuite, and -which she strove by all her best endeavours to withstand: one night, -after a very majestick and solemne manner, he prepared a delicate and -sumptuous supper, whereto the Lady was invited: and hee had given -order, that hee who attended on her Cup, should serve her with many -wines compounded and mingled together, which hee accordingly performed, -as being cunning enough in such occasions. - -_Alathiella_, mistrusting 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 adversities, became very frollick and merry: so that seeing -some women daunce after the manner observed therein _Majorica_, she -also fell to dauncing, according to the _Alexandrian_ custome. Which -when _Bajazeth_ beheld, he imagined the victory to be more then halfe -wone, and his hearts desire very neere the obtaining: plying her still -with wine upon wine, and continuing this revelling the most part of -the night. At the length, the invited guests being all gone, the -Lady retired then to her chamber, attended on by none but _Bajazeth_ -himselfe, and as familiarly, as if hee had beene one of her women, shee -no way contradicting his bold intrusion, so faire had wine over-gone -her sences, and prevailed against all modest bashfulnesse. These -wanton embracings, strange to her that had never tasted them before, -yet pleasing beyond measure, by reason of his trecherous advantage: -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 ever ought to attend on Ladies. - -Now, Fortune envying 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 _Bajazeth_ had a Brother, -aged about five 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 behaviour and civill apparancie, -highly to deserve his very best opinion, for she was not meanely entred -into his favour. 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 _Bajazeth_ 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 _Smirna_, of which Ship two _Geneway_ Merchants -(being brethren) were the Patrones and owners, who had given direction -for hoysing the sayles, to depart thence when the winde should serve. -With these two _Genewayes Amurath_ had covenanted, for himselfe to goe -abord the Ship the night ensuing, and the Lady in his company. When -night was come, having resolved with himselfe what was to be done: -in a disguised habite hee went to the house of _Bajazeth_, 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 -themselves closely in the house. After some part of the night was -over-past, hee knowing the severall lodgings both of _Bajazeth_ 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 Jewels belonging to _Bajazeth_, unheard or undescried -by anybody, they went presently to the Port, and there, without any -further delay, _Amurath_ and the Lady were received into the Ship, but -his companions returned backe againe; when the Mariners, having 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 _Bajazeth_ was quickly forgotten, and shee -became converted to lovely demeanour, even when Fortune prepared a -fresh misery for her, as not satisfied with those whereof shee had -tasted already. The Lady being enriched with unequalled beauty (as wee -have often related before) her behaviour 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 loves extremity each to the -other, and plainely perceived, that though they were equally in their -fiery torments, yet their desires were utterly contrary: they began -severally to consider, that gaine gotten by Merchandize, admitted -an equall and honest division, but this purchase was of a different -quality, pleading the title of a sole possession, without any partner -or intruder. Fearefull and jealous 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 upon the deck, -studiously observing, 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 above halfe a leagues distance, before any perceived his fall into -the Sea. - -When the Lady heard thereof, and saw no likely meanes of recovering -him againe, she fell to her wonted teares and lamentations: but the -two Lovers came quickly to comfort her, using kinde words and pithie -perswasions (albeit shee understood them not, or at the most very -little) to appease the violence of her passions; and, to speake -uprightly, shee did not so much bemoane the loss of _Amurath_, as -the multiplying of her owne misfortunes, still one succeeding in the -necke of another. After divers long and well delivered Orations, -as also very faire and courteous behaviour, they had indifferently -pacified her complaynings: they began to discourse and commune with -themselves, which of them had most right and title to _Alathiella_, and -(consequently) ought to enjoy her. Now that _Amurath_ was gone, each -pleaded his priviledge to be as good as the others, both in the Ship, -goods, and all advantages else whatsoever happening: which the elder -brother absolutely denied, alleadging first his propriety of birth, -a reason sufficient, whereby his younger ought to give 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 justice -to be highest preferred. Last of all, that his strength onely threw -_Amurath_ into the Sea, and therefore gave 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 -receiving so many perilous hurts, remained (neverthelesse) living. This -unhappy 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 severity of -punishment. But the earnest entreaties of the wounded surviver, and -their arrivall at _Smirna_ soone after, delivered him from the danger -of death, gave 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 urgent -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, understanding in what manner shee was brought thither, he -devised 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 have inflicted on her. - -The Prince perceiving, that beside her matchlesse beauty, shee had -the true character of royall behaviour; greeved 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 motive to set a keener edge on his affection towards her, -yet not to enjoy her as in honourable and loving 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 private and publike conference -in all _Natolia_, that (welneere) there was no other discourse, in any -Assembly whatsoever. - -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 under 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 Prince solliciting the Duke thereto -very earnestly, they both went together to see her; and shee having -before heard of their comming, adorned her selfe the more majestically, -entertaining them with ceremonious demeanour (after her Countries -custome) which gave most gracious and unspeakable 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 understood not any part of her language: -so that they could have no other conference, but by lookes and outward -signes onely; and the more they beheld her, the more they marvelled at -her rare perfections, especially the Duke, who hardly credited that -shee was a mortall creature. Thus not perceiving, 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 love (beyond all measure) with her. When the -Prince and he were parted from her, and hee was at his owne private -amorous meditations in his Chamber; he reputed the Prince far happier -then any man else whatsoever, by the enjoying of such a peerelesse -beauty. - -After many intricate and distracted cogitations, which molested his -braines incessantly, regarding more his loves wanton heate, then -reason, kindred, and honourable hospitality; he resolutely determined -(whatsoever ensued thereupon) to bereave 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, justice, 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 conveyed -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. Having -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 observe, that the Pallace was seated on the Sea shore, -and very high, and the window whereat the Prince then stood looking -foorth, was directly over divers 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 having 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 having 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 never spake one word after, and so threw him downe -after the Prince. - -This done, and plainely perceiving 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 Majesty? Being no way daunted by his so late committed -sinne, but swimming rather in surfet of joy, his hands all bloody, -and his soule much more uglie; 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, nor opening her eyes to be otherwise -resolved. 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 having his agents at hand fit and convenient 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 -themselves had entred, laying her in a Princely litter; away they went -with all possible speede, not tarrying in any place, untill they were -arrived 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 -served in most honourable manner. - -The Gentlemen usually attending on the Prince, having 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 privately 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 relied 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 _Churiacy_: 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 mervaile, 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 majesticke pomp -that might bee. - -Upon further inquisition, who should commit so horrid a deed, -perceyving likewise, that the Duke of _Athens_ was not to be found, but -was closely gone: they judged (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 -Soveraigne, inciting him to revenge so horrid a wrong, and promising to -assist him with their utmost 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 neighbours, kindred, and friends, -collected from divers 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 levied 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 force, who were most honourably welcommed and -entertained by the Duke, but much more by the Dutchesse, because she -was their sister in law. - -Military provision thus proceeding on daily more and more, the Dutches -making choise of a fit and convenient 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 thereof, and complaining very earnestly unto them, entreated -that for the Dukes honour, and her comfort, they would give 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 leave, and parted from her. Often -they had heard the Lady much commended, and her incomparable beauty -highly extolled, yea, even by the Duke himselfe; which made them the -more desirous to see her: wherefore earnestly they solicited him, to -let them have a sight of her, and he (forgetting what happened to the -Prince, by shewing her so unadvisedly 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 small train, away they rode to dine with her. - -_Constantine_ being seated at the Table, he began (as one confounded -with admiration) to observe her judiciously, affirming secretly to his -soule that he had never seene so compleat a woman before; and allowing -it for justice, that the Duke, or any other whosoever, if (to enjoy -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 upon 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 utterly abandoned; no other -thoughts could come neerer him, but how to bereave the Duke of her, yet -concealing his love, 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: wherefore 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 divers dayes together, _Constantine_, who could thinke on nothing -else, but the beautifull Lady, considered with himselfe, that while the -Duke was now 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 leaving all his power -to his Cousen _Emanuel_) forthwith he journeyed backe to _Athens_. -After some conference had with his sister, concerning her dishonourable -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 never 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 provided, that it -might be performed in such sort, as the Duke her Husband should -never understand, that ever shee gave any consent thereto, which -_Constantine_ sware unto her by many deep oathes, whereby she referred -all to his owne disposition. _Constantine_ hereupon secretly prepared -in readinesse a subtill Barke, sending it (in an evening) neere to the -garden where the Lady resorted; having 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 servants, 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, upon a signe given by him to one of his -complices, the Barke was brought close to the shore, and the Lady being -suddenly seized on, was immediately conveyed into it; and he returning -backe to her people, with his sword drawne in his hand, saide: Let no -man stirre, 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 -arrived at _Melasso_. There they tooke landing, and reposed on shore -for some few dayes, _Constantine_ labouring to comfort the Lady, even -as if shee had been his owne Sister, shee having 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 -behaviour used 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 jot 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 lasciviously -_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 provided ships, his men & he entred the Towne, & -surprized many people in their beds, before they knew of their enemies -comming, killing such as stood upon 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 brave and -gallant young man, upon a review of the pillage; found the faire Lady, -whom hee knew to be the beloved 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 lived there in great joy 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 upon _Osbech_, and hee would assault -him with his power on the other. But he could not so conveniently bring -this to passe, because the Emperour would not yeeld to _Bassano_, in -any unreasonable matter he demanded. Neverthelesse, when he understood -what had happened to his Son (for whom his griefe was beyond all -measure) he granted the King of _Cappadociaes_ request, solliciting -him with all instancy, to be the more speedy in assailing _Osbech_. -It was not long, before hee heard of this conjuration made against -him; and therefore speedily mustered up all his forces, ere he would -be encompassed by two such potent Kings, and marched on to meete the -King of _Cappadocia_, leaving his Lady and Wife, (for her safety) at -_Laiazzo_, in the custodie of a true and loyall servant of his. - -Within a short while after, he drew neere the Campe belonging to the -King of _Cappadocia_, where boldly he gave 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_, every one yeelding him obeysance all the way as -he went. In the meane space, the servant 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 love 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 understood and could speake her language, a matter of no meane -comfort to her; who constrainedly had lived divers yeeres together, -in the state of a deafe or dumbe woman, because every where else they -understood her not, nor shee them, but by shewes and signes. - -This benefit of familiar conference, beganne to embolden his hopes, -elevate his courage, and make him seeme more youthfull in his owne -opinion, then any ability of body could speake unto him, or promise him -in the possession of her, who was so farre beyond him, and so unequall -to be enjoyed by him; yet to advance his hopes a great deale higher, -newes came, that _Osbech_ was vanquished and slaine, and that _Bassano_ -made everie where havocke of all: whereon they concluded together, not -to tarrie there any longer, but storing themselves 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 upon him dayly, hee determined, not onely -to leave 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 -unto them in this manner. - -Deare Love, and my most worthily respected friend, I perceive plainly -and infallibly, that I am drawing neere unto my end, which much -discontenteth me; because my hope was, to have lived longer in this -world, for the enjoying 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 ever dearest friend, and -you faire Lady, whom (since the very first sight of you) I loved and -honoured in my soule. Irksome and very grievous it is to me, that (if I -dye) I shall leave you here a stranger, without the counsaile and helpe -of any body: and yet much more offensive would it become, if I had not -such a friend as you here present, who I am faithfully perswaded, will -have the like care and respect of her (even for my sake) as of myselfe, -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 providence, 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 ever Nature framed. -If of these two things you will give 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 given over 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 gave 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: moving the Lady in the matter, to understand how shee stood -enclined, because urgent occasions called him thence to _Cyprus_. The -Lady made answere, that she was willing to passe thither with him, -hoping for the love hee bare to deceased _Antiochus_, that he would -respect her as his Sister. The Merchant was willing to give her any -contentment, but yet resolved her, that under the title of being his -Sister, it would be no warrant of security to them both; wherefore -hee rather advised 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 -injuries whatsoever. - -Being abord the Carrack, they had a Cabine and small bed conveniently -allowed them, where they slept together, that they might the better -be reputed as man and wife; for, to passe otherwise, would have 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 motive rather to incite chastity, then otherwise, -and so (I hope) you are perswaded of them. But howsoever, the windes -blewe merrily, the Carrack sayled lustily, and (by this time) they are -arrived 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 arrived 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 -service of the King of _Cyprus_, Fortune had beene very adverse 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 observed her the more advisedly, 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 conceive (upon the -very first sight of _Antigonus_) that she had formerly seene him in -_Alexandria_, serving her Father in place of great degree. Hereupon, -a suddaine hope perswaded her, that by the advice and furtherance of -this Gentleman, she should recover her wonted Royall condition: and -opportunity now aptly fitting her, by the absence of her pretended -Merchant husband, she sent for him, requesting to have 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 moreover: -Madame, me thinkes that I should know you, but I cannot remember -where I have 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 perceiving 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 mervaile) if -hee had never seene her in _Alexandria_? Upon these words, _Antigonus_ -knew her immediatly 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 reverence 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 -beleeved 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 have done; and I thinke my Father himselfe would wish it so, -if ever he should come to the knowledge thereof. With these words the -teares rained downe her faire cheekes: wherefore _Antigonus_ thus spake -unto her. Madame, discomfort not your selfe before you have 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 give you such -friendly advice as may stand you in sted, and no way be injurious to -you. - -Fetching a sigh, even as if her heart would have split in sunder, -thus she replyed. Ah _Antigonus_, me thinkes when I looke on thee, I -seeme to behold my royall Father, and therefore mooved with the like -religious zeale and charitable love, as (in duty) I owe unto him: I -will make knowne to thee, what I rather ought to conceale, and hide -from any person living. I know thee to bee honourable, discreete, and -truely wise, though I am a fraile, simple, and weake woman, therefore -I dare discover to thee, rather then any other that I know, by what -straunge and unexpected misfortunes, I have lived so long obscurely in -the world. And if in thy great and grave judgement (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 perceive it impossible to bee done, as -earnestly likewise I entreate thee, never to reveale to any living -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, even from her -shipwracke in the Sea of _Majorica_, until that very instant houre; -speaking them in such harsh manner as they hapned, and not sparing any -jot of them. - -_Antigonus_ being mooved to much compassion, declared how hee pitied -her by his teares, and having bene silent an indifferent while, as -considering in this case, what was best to be done, thus he began. -Madam, seeing you have past through such a multitude of misfortunes, -yet undiscovered, what and who you are: I will render you as blamelesse -to your Father, and estate you as fairely in his love, 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 further 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 honour, who have bene impoverished by your service, 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 arrived at _Baffa_, and to preserve 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 under my conduct, it will be great honour to you, and -no meane benefite to mee; which kindnesse will for ever be thankfully -remembred by the Soldan. - -The King in royall magnificence, replied sodainly, that he was highly -pleased with these good tydings; & having 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 revelling, performed in most Majesticke 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 -honour) all their demands. So, within few dayes after, upon her earnest -& instant request, with an honourable traine of Lords and Ladies, shee -was sent thence, and conducted all the way by _Antigonus_, untill she -came unto the Soldans Court. - -After some few dayes of her reposing there, the Soldan was desirous -to understand, how she could possibly live so long, in any Kingdome -or Province whatsoever, 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 given -her, answered her father in this manner. Sir, about the twentith day -after my departure from you, a verie terrible and dreadfull tempest -over-tooke us, so that in dead time of the night, our ship being split -in sunder upon the sands, neere to a place called _Varna_; what became -of all the men that were aboord, I neither know, or ever heard of. -Onely I remember, then when death appeared, and I being recovered 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 -upon us, 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 used me, rescued me from them, and forced them to flight. But -the foure horsemen, seeming (in my judgement) to bee persons of power -and authority, letting them go, came to mee, urging sundry questions -to me, which neither I understood, or they mine answers. After many -deliberations held among themselves, setting me upon one of their -horses, they brought me to a Monastery of religious women, according -to the custome of their law: and there, whatsoever they did or sayde, -I know not, but I was most benignely welcommed thither, and honoured -of them extraordinarily, where (with them in devotion) I dedicated -my selfe to the Goddesse of chastity, who is highly reverenced and -regarded among the women of that Countrey, and to her religious -service, 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 gave -me so much understanding, 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 urged) 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 observe 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 never repose -confidence in any that came for _Cyprus_; till two honest Gentlemen -of _France_, who hapned thither about two moneths since, accompanied -with their wives, one of them being a neere kinswoman to the Lady -Abbesse. And she well knowing, that they travelled in pilgrimage to -_Jerusalem_, to visit the holy Sepulcher, where (as they beleeve) that -he whom they held for their God was buried, after the Jewes had put him -to death: recommended me to their loving trust, with especial charge, -for delivering me to my Father in _Cyprus_. What honourable love and -respect I found in the company of those Gentlemen and their wives, -during our voyage backe to _Cyprus_: the history would be over-tedious -in reporting, neither is it much material to our purpose, because your -demand is to another end. - -Sayling on prosperously in our Ship, it was not long, before wee -arrived at _Baffa_, where being landed, and not knowing any person, -neither what I should say to the Gentlemen, who onely were carefull -for delivering me to my Father, according as they were charged by the -reverend Abbesse: it was the will of heaven 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 unto in our countrey Language, because I would not be understood -by the Gentlemen nor their wives, 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 wives, conducting me to the K. of -_Cyprus_, who received 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 will 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 wives, -she hath delivered nothing but trueth. Onely shee hath forgotten -somewhat worth the speaking, as thinking it not fit for her to utter, -because (indeede) it is not so convenient for her. Namely, how much -the Gentlemen and their wives (with whom she came) commended the rare -honesty and integrity of life, as also the unspotted vertue, wherein -she lived, among those chaste Religious women, as they constantly (both -with teares and solemne protestations) avouched 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 have -said so much, as (both by the reports, and mine owne understanding) may -give you faithfull assurance, to make your Royall vaunt; of having the -fayrest, most vertuous, and honest Lady to your Daughter, of any King -or Prince whatsoever. - -The Soldane was joyfull beyond all measure, welcomming both him and -the rest in most stately manner, oftentimes entreating the Gods very -heartily, that he might live to requite them with equall recompence, -who had so graciously honoured his daughter: but (above all the rest) -the King of _Cyprus_, who sent her home so majestically. And having -bestowne great gifts on _Antigonus_, within a few dayes after, hee gave -him leave to returne to _Cyprus_: with thankfull favours to the King -as well by Letters, as also by Ambassadours espresly 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 gave him intelligence of -all that had happened, writing moreover to him, that (if he were so -pleased) hee would yet send her in Royall manner to him. The King of -_Cholcos_ was exceeding joyfull of these glad tydings, and dispatching -a worthy trayne to fetch her, she was convayed thither very pompously, -and she who had beene embraced by so many, was received by him as -an honest virgine, living long time after with him in much joy and -felicity. And therefore, it hath beene said as a common Proverbe: 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 divers places. -Returning afterward (unknowne) thorow_ Scotland, _hee found them -advanced unto great dignity. Then, repayring in the habite of a -Servitour, into the King of_ France _his Armie, and his innocencie made -publiquely knowne; hee was reseated in his former honourable degree._ - -The eight Novell. - -_Whereby all men may plainely understand, that loyalty faithfully kept -to the Prince (what perils so ever doe ensue) doth yet neverthelesse -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 moved 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 leaving that to -their owne construction, they smiled merrily at the last speeches of -_Pamphilus_, and the Queene perceiving the Novell to be ended: shee -fixed her eye upon Madame _Eliza_, as signifying thereby, that she -was next to succeede in order, which shee joyfully embracing, spake -as followeth. The field is very large and spacious, wherein all this -day we have walked, and there is not any one here, so wearied with -running the former races, but nimbly would adventure 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, having congregated the forces -of their owne dominions, as also of their friends and confederates, -they resolved manfully to encounter their enemies. But before they -would adventure on any rash proceeding; they held it as the chiefest -part of pollicie and Royall providence, not to leave the State -without a chiefe or Governour. And having 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 travaile:) hee was elected Lieutenant Governour in -their sted, over 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 under his care and custodie, yet -(notwithstanding) he honoured them as his superiours, and as the -dignity of their quality required. Heere you are to observe, concerning -Counte _Gualtier_ himselfe, that he was a most compleat person, aged -little above 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, leaving him onely -a sonne and a daughter, very young and of tender yeares, which made -his owne home the lesse welcome to him, having lost his deare Love 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 upon him, convaying such -conspiring passions to her heart (in regard of his person and vertues) -that her love exceeded all capacity of governement. Her desires -out-stepping all compasse of modesty, or the dignity of her Princely -condition; throwes off all regard of civill and sober thoughts, and -guides her into a Labyrinth of wanton imaginations. For, she regards -not now the eminencie of his high authority, his gravity of yeares, and -those parts that are the true conducts to honour: but lookes upon her -owne loose and lascivious appetite, her young, gallant, and over-ready -yeelding nature, comparing them with his want of a wife, and likely -hope (thereby) of her sooner prevailing; supposing, that nothing -could be her hinderance, but onely bashfull shame-facednesse, which -she rather chose utterly to forsake and set aside, then to faile of -her hote enflamed affection, and therefore, shee would needes be the -discoverer of her owne disgrace. - -Upon a day, being alone by her selfe, and the time seeming suteable to -her intention: shee sent for the Counte, under 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, -upon 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 up into her -face, yet shame enforcing teares from her eyes, with words broken and -halfe confused, at last she began to deliver 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 divers occasions) -much more upon the one, then the other. Wherefore desertfully, in the -censure of a just and upright Judge, a fault of divers 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, having no other helpe for maintainance, but -laborious travaile of their bodies should worthily receive more sharpe -reprehension, in yeelding to amorous desires, or such passions as -are incited by love; then a wealthy Lady whose living relieth not on -her paines or cares, neither wanteth any thing that she can wish to -have: I dare presume, that you your selfe will allow this to be equall -and just. In which respect, I am of the minde, that the fore-named -allegations, ought to serve as a sufficient excuse, yea, and to the -advantage of her who is so possessed, if the passions of love should -over-reach her: alwayes provided, 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 servile or -vile election. - -These two especiall observations, allowable in my judgement, and living -now in me, seazing on my youthfull blood and yeares: have found no -mean inducement to love, in regard of my husbands far distance from -me, medling in the rude uncivill actions of warre, when he should -rather be at home in more sweet imployment. You see Sir, that these -Orators advance themselves here in your presence, to acquaint you -with the extremity of my over-commanding agony: and if the same power -hath dominion in you, which your discretion (questionlesse) cannot be -voide of; then let me entreate such advise from you, as may rather -helpe, then hinder my hopes. Beleeve 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: have so prevailed against my strongest -resistances, that not onely so weake a woman as I am, but any man of -much more potent might (living in ease and idlenesse as I doe) cannot -withstand such continuall assaults, having 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 Love highly favourable to mee, by guiding my -judgement with such moderation, to make election of a wise, worthy, and -honourable friend, fit to enjoy 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 have not misled mine eye, as in Love no Lady can be easily -deceived: for person, perfections, and all parts most to be commended -in a man, the whole Realme of _France_ containeth not your equall. -Observe beside, how forward Fortune sheweth her selfe to us 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 unfaigned affection I beare you, and -compassion, which you ought to have of Royall Princesse, even almost -sicke to death for your sake: I earnestly entreate you, not to denie me -your loving society, but pittying my youth and fiery afflictions (never -to be quenched but by your kindnesse) I may enjoy my hearts desire. - -As shee uttered these words, the teares streamed aboundantly downe -her faire cheekes, preventing her of any further speech: so that -dejecting her head into her bosome, overcome with the predominance of -her passions; shee fell upon the Countes knee, whereas else shee had -falne upon the ground. When hee, like a loyall and most honourable -man, sharply reprehended her fonde and idle love, and when shee would -have embraced him about the necke; hee repulsed her roughly from him, -protesting upon 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 -utterly frustrated: grewe instantly forgetfull of her intemperate -love, and falling into extremity of rage, converted 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 -unkindnesse, and all my hoped joyes be defeated in a moment? Know -slave, 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 -over-credulous Court, then either his owne conscience, or any -dishonourable act by him committed, beleeving likewise, that her -slanderous accusation would bee credited, above his true and spotlesse -innocency: closely he conveyed himselfe out of the Court, making what -hast hee could, home to his owne house, which being too weake for -warranting his safety upon such pursuite as would be used against him, -without any further advice or counsell, he seated his two children on -horsebacke, himselfe also being but meanly mounted, thus away thence -hee went to _Calice_. - -Upon the clamour and noise of the Lady, the Courtiers quickly flocked -thither; and, as lies soone winne beleefe in hasty opinions, upon any -silly or shallow surmise: so did her accusation passe for currant, and -the Counts advancement being envied 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 used 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 severe -condemnation, all his progeny being sentenced with perpetuall exile, -and promises of great and bountifull rewards, to such as could bring -his body alive or dead. - -Thus the innocent Count, by his over-hasty and sodaine flight, made -himselfe guilty of this foule imputation: and arriving at _Callice_ -with his children, their poore and homely habites, hid them from being -knowne, and thence they crossed over into England, staying no where -untill hee came to London. Before he would enter into the City, he -gave divers good advertisements to his children, but especially two -precepts above all the rest. First, with patient soules to support the -poore condition, whereto Fortune (without any offence in him or them) -had thus dejected them. Next, that they should have 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 lives. His Sonne, -being named _Lewes_, and now about nine yeares old, his daughter called -_Violenta_, and aged seaven yeares, did both observe their fathers -direction, as afterward it did sufficiently appeare. And because -they might live 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 unknowne. - -Being entred into the City, and in the poore estate of beggers, they -craved every 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, comming 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 unhappy fact committed by his eldest sonne (a stripling of more -hopefull expectation, then proved) hee was enforced, with those his -two other children to forsake his country. The Lady being by nature -very pittiful, looking advisedly 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 proove -answerable to hir outward goods parts: if therefore thou canst bee -content to leave her with me, I will give her entertainment, and upon -her dutifull carriage and behaviour, if she live to such yeares as may -require it, I will have 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 delivered 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, travailing thorough the -Country with his sonne _Perotto_, at length hee came into _Wales_: but -not without much weary paine and travell, being never used before, -to journey so far on foote. There dwelt another Lord, in office of -Marshalship to the King of _England_, whose power extended over -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 divers 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 came any thing -nere him. Divers times the President had taken notice thereof, and was -so well pleased with the Lads behaviour, that he enquired, of whence -he was? Answer was made, that hee was a poore mans son, that every 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 gave his son to -the Nobleman: albeit naturall and fatherly affection, urged some -unwillingnesse 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 under -good and woorthie government: the Count would continue no longer in -_England_: but, as best he could procure the meanes, passed over into -_Ireland_, and being arrived at a place called _Stanford_, became -servant to an Earle of that Country, a Gentleman professing Armes, on -whom he attended as a serving man, & lived a long while in that estate -very painfully. - -His daughter _Violenta_, clouded under the borrowed name of _Gianetta_, -dwelling with the Lady at _London_, grew so in yeares, beauty, -comelinesse of person, and was so gracefull in the favour of her Lord -and Lady, yea, of every one in the house beside, that it was wonderfull -to behold. Such as but observed her usuall carriage, and what modesty -shined clearely in her eyes, reputed her well worthy of honourable -preferment; in which regard, the Lady that had received 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 deserved. But God, the just rewarder of all -good endeavours, 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 every way answerable to his outward behaviour, -exceeding _Gianetta_ about sixe yeeres in age. Hee perceiving 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 -love concealed from his Parents, not daring to desire her in marriage: -for loth hee was to loose their favour, by disclosing the vehemency of -his afflictions, which proved a greater torment to him, then if it had -beene openly knowne. - -It came to passe, that love over-awed him in such sort, as he fell into -a violent sicknesse, and score of Physicions were sent for, to save him -from death, if possibly it might be. Their judgements observing the -course of his sicknesse, yet not reaching to the cause of the disease, -made a doubtfull question of his recovery; which was so displeasing to -his parents, that their griefe and sorrow grew beyond measure. Many -earnest entreaties they moved 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 unto 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) upon some especial occasion entred into the Chamber, -which when the young Gentleman perceived, 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 observation, to note how long -that fit would continue. No sooner was _Gianetta_ gone forth of the -Chamber, but the pulse immediately gave over beating, which perswaded -the Physicion, that some part of the disease had now discovered it -selfe apparantly. - -Within a while after, pretending to have some speech with _Gianetta_, -and holding the Gentleman still by the arme, the Physicion caused her -to be sent for, and immediately shee came. Upon 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 have made it -knowne to me, and he loveth the Damosell very dearely: yet (for ought -I can perceive, the Maide doth not know it) now if you have 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 preserve 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 enjoying 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 soever, but it should have beene provided 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 Heaven hath been more mercifull to thee, -then thou wouldest be to thy selfe or us. And to prevent 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 love, and why shouldst -thou shame to manifest as much, it being so apt and convenient for -thy youth? For if I were perswaded, that thou couldst not love, I -should make the lesse esteeme of thee. Therefore deare Sonne, be not -dismayed, but freely discover thine affections. Expel those disastrous -drouping thoughts, that have 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 love thee as dearely as mine -owne life. Set therefore aside this nice conceit of shame and feare, -revealing the truth boldly to me, if I may stead thee in thy love; -resolving thy selfe unfaignedly, that if my care stretch not to -compasse thy content, account me for the most cruell Mother living, and -utterly unworthy of such a Sonne. - -The young Gentleman having 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 loves so strict concealement, -but an especiall error, which I finde by daily proofe in many, who -being growne to yeeres of grave discretion, doe never remember, that -they themselves have bin yong. But because heerein I find you to be -both discreet and wise, I will not onely affirme, what you have seen in -me to be true, but also will confesse, to whom it is: upon 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 resolved, whether his confession would -agree with the Physitians words, or no, and reserving another intention -to her selfe: bad him feare nothing, but freely discover 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 have made no motion, to commisserate -this my languishing extremity, nor acquainted any living creature with -my love: 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 enjoying 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 severe 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 joy and comfort, disposing her selfe daily to proove, -how in honour she might keepe promise with her Son. - -Within a short while after, calling _Gianetta_ privately to her, in -gentle manner, and by the way of pleasant discourse, she demanded of -her, whither she was provided of a Lover, or no. _Gianetta_, being -never acquainted with any such questions, a scarlet Dye covering all -her modest countenance, thus replied. Madam, I have no neede of any -Lover, and very unseemly were it, for so poore a Damosell as I am, to -have so much as a thought of Lovers: being banished from my friends and -kinsfolke, and remaining in service as I do. - -If you have 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 unfit, that so faire a Maid as you -are, should remaine destitute of a lover. Madam, sayde _Gianetta_, -considering with my selfe, that since you received me of my poore -Father, you have used me rather like your daughter, then a servant; it -becommeth mee to doe as pleaseth you. Notwithstanding, I trust (in the -regard of mine own good and honour) never to use any complaint in such -a case: but if you please to bestow a husband on me, I purpose to love -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 live. - -These words were of a quite contrary complexion, to those which -the Lady expected from her, and for effecting the promise made -unto hir Sonne: howbeit (like a wise and noble Lady) much shee -inwardly commended the maids answers, and saide unto 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 love, would ye denie him? Sodainly the Maide returned this -answer; Madam, the King (perhaps) might enforce me; but with my free -consent, hee shall never have 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 project in -proofe, saying to her son, that when he was fully recovered, he should -have private 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 moove 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 love was the sole scope of his intention, foule and loathsome -lust he utterly defied; whereupon, he fell into sickenesse againe, -rather more violently then before. Which the Lady perceiving, revealed -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 enjoy her in -honourable marriage: accounting it better, for preservation 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 love. - -After great consultation with kindred and friendes, the match was -agreed upon, to the no little joy of _Gianetta_, who devoutly returned -infinite thankes to heaven, for so mercifully respecting her dejected -poore estate, after the bitter passage of so many miseries, and -never tearming her selfe any otherwise, but the daughter of a poore -_Piccard_. Soone was the yong Gentleman recovered and married, no -man alive so well contented as he, and setting downe an absolute -determination, to lead a loving life with his _Gianetta_. - -Let us now convert 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 was most comely of person, and addicted to all valiant attempts: -so that in Tourneyes, Justes, 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 Province became dispeopled and desolate. - -In the time of this plague and dreadfull visitation, the Lord President, -his Lady, Sonnes, Daughters, Brothers, Nephewes, and Kindred dyed, none -remaining alive, but one onely Daughter marriageable, a few of the -houshold servants, 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_, understanding 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 over-past, since the Count _D'Angiers_ -fled from _Paris_, having suffered (in miserable sort) many hard and -lamentable adversities, and seeing himselfe now to be growne aged, hee -was desirous to leave Ireland, and to know (if hee might) what was -become of both his children. Hereupon, perceiving his wonted forme to -be so altered, that such as formerly had conversed most with him, could -now not take any knowledge of him, & feeling his body (through long -labour and exercise endured in service) 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 Earle his Maister, with whom -hee had continued long in service, to no advantage or advancement, and -crossing over into _England_, travailed 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 reverenced 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 joy 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, untill such time as he came to _London_. Making there secret -enquiry, concerning the Lady with whom he had left his daughter: hee -understoode, that a young Gentlewoman, named _Gianetta_, was married -to that Ladies onely Son; which made a second addition of joy to his -soule, accounting all his passed adversities of no value, both his -children being living, and in so high honour. - -Having found her dwelling, and (like a kinde Father) being earnestly -desirous to see her; he dayly resorted neere to the house, where Sir -_Roger Mandavill_ (for so was _Gianettaes_ husband named) chauncing to -see him, being moved to compassion because he was both poore and aged: -commaunded one of his men, to take him into the house, and to give him -some foode for Gods sake, which (accordingly) the servant performed. -_Gianetta_ had divers 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, even as -if Nature had truly instructed them, that this was their aged, though -poore Grandfather, and hee as lovingly receiving these kinde relations -from them, wisely and silently kept all to himselfe, with sighes, -teares, and joyes 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 adjoining -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 loved 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 reverence, because shee was now a Noble woman, conceiving -wonderfull joy 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_ perceiving, that when her children were fetcht away, they -returned againe to the olde man, and would not leave him; desired their -Maister to let them alone. - -While thus the children continued making much of the good olde man, -Lord _Andrew Mandevile_, 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 ever 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 mervaile, if like will to like, a beggers brats to -keepe company with beggers. The Count hearing these contemptible words, -was not a little greeved thereat, and although his courage was greater, -then his poore condition would permit him to expresse; yet, clouding -all injuries 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_, perceiving 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 favoured 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 -service, 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 service, save 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 service, 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 -elsee 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 divers 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_, (upon request made to him by his new brother of -_France_) sent him very honourable supplies of his people, under the -conduct of _Perotto_, his lately elected President of _Wales_, and Sir -_Roger Mandevile_, 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 advice 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 grievous sicknes, and perceiving 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 revealed 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 living, 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 injuriously wronging a man of so great valour -and honour: Proclamation was made throughout the Camp, and in many -other parts of _France_ beside, that whosoever 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 favours, which the -King franckely would bestow upon him. When the Count (who walked up -and downe in the habite of a common servitor) heard this Proclamation, -forth-with he went to his Master Sir _Roger Mandevile_, 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 themselves alone in the -Tent, the Count spake in this manner to _Perotto_. Sir, S. _Roger -Mandevile_ here, your equal competitor in this military service, is the -husband to your naturall sister, having as yet never received any dowry -with her, but her inherent unblemishable vertue & honour. Now because -she may not still remain destitute of a competent Dowry: I desire that -Sir _Roger_, and none other, may enjoy 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_: avouch moreover, that _Violenta_, shadowed under -the borrowed name of _Gianetta_, is your owne Sister; and deliver me -up as your Father, the long exiled Count _D'Angiers. Perotto_ hearing -this, beheld him more advisedly, 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 Mandevile_, hearing first what the Count had said, and -seeing what _Perotto_ afterward performed; became surprized with -such extraordinary joy and admiration, that he knew not how to carry -himselfe in this case. Neverthelesse, giving credite to his words, -and being somewhat ashamed, that he had not used the Count in more -respective manner, & remembring beside, the unkinde language of his -furious Father to him: he kneeled downe, humbly craving pardon, both -for his fathers rudenes and his owne, which was courteously granted by -the Count, embracing him lovingly in his armes. - -When they had a while discoursed their severall fortunes, sometime -in teares, and then againe in joy, _Perotto_ and Sir _Roger_, would -have 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 injurious -proceeding. Then Sir _Roger Mandevile_, 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_ uppon 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, delivered the aged Count, by the title -of his servant, and presenting _Perotto_ next, said. Sir, heere I -deliver you the Father and his Son, his daughter who is my wife, cannot -so conveniently be heere now, but shortly, by the permission of heaven, -your Majesty shall have 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 joy also for his so happy recovery, he tooke -up the Count from kneeling, kissing, and embracing him very kindely, -welcomming _Perotto_ in the selfesame manner. Immediately also he gave -commaund, that the Count should be restored to his honours, apparrell, -servants, horses, and furniture, answerable to his high estate and -calling, which was as speedily performed. Moreover, the King greatly -honoured Sir _Roger Mandevile_, desiring to be made acquainted with all -their passed fortunes. - -When Sir _Roger_ had received the royall reward, for thus surrendring -the Count and his Sonne, the Count calling him to him, saide. Take that -Princely remuneration of my soveraigne Lord the King, and commending -me to your unkinde 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 -joy and triumph, they continued a long while with the noble Count; who -had all his goods and honours restored to him, in farre greater measure -then ever they were before: his Sonnes in Law returning home with their -Wives 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 deceived by another Merchant, -named_ Ambroginolo, _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 servant to the Soldane. The deceiver being found at last, -shee compassed such meanes, that her Husband_ Bernardo _came into_ -Alexandria, _and there, after due punishment inflicted on the false -deceiver, shee resumed the garments againe of a woman, and returned -home with her Husband to_ Geneway. - -The ninth Novell. - -_Wherein is declared, that by over-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 justly punished -for their treachery._ - - -Madam _Eliza_ having ended her compassionate discourse, which indeede -had moved all the rest to sighing; the Queene, who was faire, comely -of stature, and carrying a very majesticall 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 Novelse, but onely -he and my selfe: I must first deliver mine, and he (who takes it for an -honour) to be the last in relating his owne, last let him be for his -owne deliverance. Then pausing a little while, thus shee began againe. -Many times among vulgar people, it hath passed as a common Proverbe: -That the deceiver is often trampled on, by such as he hath deceived. -And this cannot shew it selfe (by any reason) to be true, except such -accidents as awaite on treachery, doe really make a just discovery -thereof. And therefore according to the course of this day observed, I -am the woman, that must make good what I have saide for the approbation -of that Proverbe; no way (I hope) distastfull to you in the hearing, -but advantageable to preserve 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 urged their often resorting thither. One night among many -other, having had a merry Supper together, they began to discourse on -divers matters, and falling from one relation to another; they communed -in very friendly manner, concerning their wives, 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 love to my wife, -and make use of such an advantage 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 unknowne are sildome or never called in question. A thirde man -jumpt in censure, with his former fellowes of the Jury; and it plainly -appeared, that al the rest were of the same opinion, condemning their -wives over-rashly, and alledging, that when husbands strayed so far -from home, their wives had wit enough to make use of their time. - -Onely one man among them all, named _Bernardo Lomellino_, & dwelling -in _Geneway_, maintained the contrary; boldly avouching, that by the -especiall favour 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 whatsoever, but in -woman-hoode shee went beyond all other. No Lord, Knight, Esquire, or -Gentleman, could bee better served 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 never 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 used of his wife, and seeming to -make a mockerie thereat, demaunded, if the Emperour had given him this -priviledge, above all other married men? _Bernardo_ being somewhat -offended, answered: No Emperour hath done it, but the especiall -blessing of heaven, exceeding all the Emperours on the earth in grace, -and thereby have received this favour; whereto _Ambroginolo_ presently -thus replied. _Bernardo_, without all question to the contrary, I -beleeve that what thou hast said, is true, but, for ought I can -perceive, thou hast slender judgement in the nature of things: because, -if thou didst observe them well, thou couldst not be of so grosse -understanding; 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 have spoken of our -wives, doe thinke any otherwise of them, then as well and honestly as -thou canst of thine, nor that any thing elsee did urge 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, upon the matter already propounded. - -I have ever more understood, that man was the most noble creature, -formed by God to live in this world, and woman in the next degree -to him: but man, as generally is beleeved, and as is discerned by -apparant effects, is the most perfect of both. Having 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 universally -graunted, that woman is more various and mutable, and the reason -thereof may be approved, 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 covet the enjoying 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 conceive of a fraile woman, -subject (by nature) to entreaties, flatteries, gifts, perswasions, -and a thousand other enticing meanes, which a man (that is affected -to her) can use? Doest thou think then that shee hath any power to -containe? Assuredly, though thou shouldst rest so resolved, yet cannot -I be of the same opinion. For I am sure thou beleevest, 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 have, 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 elsee possible, either to be -denied or affirmed to the contrary, as thou most unadvisedly 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 understanding or shame: but such as are wise, and endued -with vertue, have alwayes such a precious esteeme of their honour, -that they will containe those principles of constancie, which men are -meerely carelesse of, and I justifie my wife to be one of them. Beleeve -me _Bernardo_ (replied _Ambroginolo_) if so often as thy wives minde -is addicted to wanton folly, a badge of scorne should arise on thy -forehead, to render testimonie of her female frailty; I beleeve the -number of them would be more, then willingly you would wish them to be. -And among all married men, in every degree, the notes are so secret -of their wives 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 never imposed, but in cases -evident 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 never 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 divers women. Yea, and -let me tell thee more _Bernardo_, were I in private company with thy -wife, howsoever 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 -over-long 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 have my head smitten off, if thou canst -winne her to any such dishonest act, by any meanes whatsoever thou -canst use unto 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 -upon the proofe, pawne downe five 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 departing 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 private and especiall tokens, as thou -thy selfe shalt confesse that I have not failed. Provided, that thou -doe first promise upon 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 undertaken. - -_Bernardo_ saide, be it a bargaine, I am the man that will make good -my five 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 -delivered under 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 -perceived, that he had undertaken a very idle enterprise, yet would he -not give it over 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 favour with -his wife; upon whose poverty he so prevailed, 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 conveyed into the House of _Bernardoes_ Wife, under 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 Bed-chamber, which was the place where _Ambroginolo_ most desired -to bee. - -Being thus conveyed 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 ever used to have: -_Ambroginolo_ softly opened the Chest, according as cunningly hee had -contrived it; and stepping forth in his sockes made of cloath, observed -the scituation of the Chamber, the paintings, pictures, and beautifull -hangings, with all things elsee 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 bravery. No especiall note or marke could hee -descrie, whereof he might make credible report, but onely a small wart -upon 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 upon 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 severall nights, the -Gentlewoman neither mistrusting or missing any thing. The third day -being come, the poore woman, according as formerly was concluded, came -to have 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 conveniently he could to _Paris_. - -Being arrived there long before his limitted time, he called the -Merchants together, who were present at the passed words and wager; -avouching before _Bernardo_, that he had won his five thousand Duckets, -and performed the taske he undertooke. 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 every circumstance -elsee beside. Next he shewed the severall things, which he brought away -thence with him, affirming that he had received them of her selfe. -_Bernardo_ confessed, that his description of the Chamber was true, -and acknowledged moreover, that these other things did belong to his -Wife: But (quoth he) this may be gotten, by corrupting some servant -of mine, both for intelligence of the Chamber, as also of the Ring, -Purse, and what elsee 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 serve for sufficient proofes; but -seeing thou art so desirous to know more: I plainely tell thee, that -faire _Genevra_ thy Wife, hath a small round wart upon 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 unable to utter -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, even to the -utmost 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 arrived, he called a servant, -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 servant, that so soone -as he had brought her to a convenient place, he should there kill her, -without any pitty or compassion, and then returne to him againe. - -When the servant was come to _Geneway_, and had delivered his Letter -and message, _Genevra_ gave him most joyful welcome, and on the morrow -morning mounting on Horse-backe with the servant, rode merrily towards -the Countrey house; divers 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 servant supposed to be a meete -place, for the execution of his Masters command. Suddenly drawing forth -his Sword, and holding _Genevra_ fast by the arme, he saide; Mistresse, -quickly commend your soule to God, for you must die, before you passe -any further. _Genevra_ seeing the naked Sword, and hearing the words -so peremptorily delivered, fearefully answered; Alas deare friend, -mercy for Gods sake; and before thou kill me, tell me wherein I have -offended thee, and why thou must kill me? Alas good Mistresse replied -the servant, you have not any way offended me, but in what occasion you -have displeased your Husband, it is utterly unknowne 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 commandedeth. God is my witnesse, that I am truly compassionate of -you, and yet (by no meanes) may I let you live. - -_Genevra_ kneeling before him weeping, wringing her hands, thus -replied. Wilt thou turne Monster, and be a murtherer of her that never -wronged thee, to please another man, and on a bare command? God, who -truly knoweth all things, is my faithfull witnesse, that I never -committed any offence, whereby to deserve the dislike of my Husband, -much lesse so harsh a recompence as this is. But flying from mine owne -justification, 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 enjoy 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 ever heare any tydings of me. - -The servant, who had no great good will to kill her, very easily grew -pittifull, tooke off her upper garments, and gave 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 delivered -him her garments, he assured him, that he had not onely accomplished -his commaund, but also was most secure from any discovery: because he -had no sooner done the deede, but foure or five very ravenous Wolfes, -came presently running to the dead body, and gave it buriall in their -bellies. _Bernardo_ soone after returning to _Geneway_, was much blamed -for such unkinde cruelty to his wife; but his constant avouching of her -treason to him (according then to the Countries custome) did cleare him -from all pursuite of law. - -Poore _Genevra_, was left thus alone and disconsolate, and night -stealing fast upon her, shee went to a silly village neere adjoining, -where (by the meanes of a good olde woman) she got such provision as -the place afforded, making the doublet fit to her body, and converting -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; upon some conference -passing betweene them, shee was entertained into his service, and -being brought aboord the Ship, she went under the name of _Sicurano -da Finale_. There shee had better apparell bestowne on her by the -Gentleman, and her service proved 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 certaine peregrine Faulcons, which hee presented to the -Soldane: who oftentimes welcommed this Gentleman to his table, where -hee observed the behaviour of _Sicurano_, attending on his Maisters -trencher, and therewith was so highly pleased; that he requested to -have him from the Gentleman, who (for his more advancement) willingly -parted with his so lately entertained servant. _Sicurano_ was so ready -and discreete in his dayly services; 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 -observed) had formerly beene, in the Citie of _Acres_, which was -under the Soldanes subjection: there yearely met a great assembly of -Merchants, as Christians, Moores, Jewes, 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 used to send thither some of his ordinarie -Officers, and a strong guard of Souldiers beside, to defend them from -all injuries and molestation, because he reaped thereby no meane -benefit. And who should be now sent about this businesse, but his new -elected favourite _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 every -part of the Fayre, where shee observed a worthy company of Merchants, -Sicilians, Pisanes, Genewayes, Venetians, and other Italians, whom -the more willingly shee noted, in remembrance of her native Countrey. -At one especiall time, among other, chancing into a Shop or Boothe -belonging to the Venetians; she espied (hanging up 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 were 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 unfitting -behaviour) 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, I smile not at you, or your -demaund; but at the manner how I came by these things. - -_Sicurano_, upon this answere, was ten times more desirous then before, -and said. If Fortune favoured 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 -given me by a Gentlewoman of _Geneway_, named Madame _Genevra_, 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 five 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 deserved 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 conceived, -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 convenient -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, devising 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 divers gallant Merchants of _Geneway_, that then remained in -_Alexandria_, and by vertue of the _Soldans_ friendly Letters, beside -to bring him thither upon 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 private) entertained by -divers of her worthy friends, till time did favour what shee further -intended. - -In the expectation of _Bernardoes_ arrivall, shee had so prevailed -with _Ambroginolo_, that the same tale which he formerly tolde to her, -he delivered againe in presence of the _Soldane_, who seemed to be -well pleased with it: But after shee had once seene her Husband, shee -thought upon her more serious businesse; providing her selfe of an apt -opportunity, when shee entreated such favour 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, upon peril of his -life, by what means he won the wager, of the five thousand golden -Duckets he received of _Bernardo. Ambroginolo_ seeing _Sicurano_ there -present, upon whose favour he wholly relied, yet perceiving her lookes -likewise to be as dreadfull as the _Soldanes_, and hearing her threaten -him with most greevous torments, except he revealed 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 avouched. Yet dreaming on no other paine -or penalty, but restoring backe the five thousand Duckets of gold, -and the other things by him purloyned, truly he revealed the whole -forme of his falshood. Then _Sicurano_ according as the _Soldane_ had -formerly commanded him, turning to _Bernardo_, saide. And thou, upon -the suggestion of this foule lie, what didst thou to thy Wife? Being -(quoth _Bernardo_) overcome with rage, for the losse of my money, and -the dishonour I supposed to receive by my Wife; I caused a servant of -mine to kill her, and as he credibly avouched, her body was devoured by -ravenous Wolves 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 urged, and to what end it would succeede: _Sicurano_ spake -in this manner to the Soldane. My gracious Lord, you may plainely -perceive, in what degree that poore Gentlewoman might make her vaunt, -being so well provided, both of a loving friend, and a husband. Such -was the friends love, 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 invincible trueth, whereof he had faithfull knowledge, by long -and very honourable experience; caused her to be slaine, and made -foode for devouring Wolves. 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 have worthily deserved: if you please (in your ever -knowne gracious benignity) to permit the punishment of the deceiver, -and pardon the party so deceived; I will procure such meanes, that she -shall appeare here in your presence, and theirs. - -The Soldane, being desirous to give _Sicurano_ all manner of -satisfaction, having followed the course so industriously: bad him -to produce the woman, and hee was well contented. Whereat _Bernardo_ -stoode much amazed, because he verily beleeved that she was dead. And -_Ambroginolo_ foreseeing already a preparation for punishment, feared, -that the repayment of the money would not now serve 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_ having 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 use them, but -must truely witnesse what she was indeede, and therefore thus spake. - -Great Soldane, I am the miserable and unfortunate _Genevra_, that, for -the space of sixe whole yeares, have wandered through the world, in -the habite of a man, falsly and most maliciously slaundered, by this -villainous traytour _Ambroginolo_, and by this unkinde cruell husband, -betrayed to his servant to be slaine, and left to be devoured by savage -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, having alreadie -acknowledged the contrarie, being stricken dumbe with shamefull -disgrace, was not able to utter one word. - -The Soldane, who had alwayes reputed _Sicurano_ to be a man, having -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 _Genevra_, 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 justly deserved death; which likewise himselfe -confessed, and falling at the feete of _Genevra_, desired her (in -teares) to forgive his rash transgression, which most lovingly 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, having his naked body annointed all over with honey, and never to -be taken off, untill (of it selfe) it fell in pieces, which, according -to the sentence, was presently performed. Next, he gave expresse -charge, that all his mony and goods should be given to _Genevra_, -which valued above ten thousand double Duckets. Forth-with a solemne -feast was prepared, wherein, much honour was done to _Bernardo_, being -the husband of _Genevra_: and to her, as to a most worthy woman, and -matchlesse wife, he gave in costly Jewelse, as also vesselse of gold and -silver plate, so much as amounted to above 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 joyfully, being welcommed home with -great honour, especially Madame _Genevra_, whom every one supposed -to be dead, and alwayes after, so long as shee lived, 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 devoured 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 -evill towards him. And thus was the Proverbe truly verified, that shame -succeedeth after ugly sinne, and the deceiver is trampled and trod, by -such as himselfe hath deceived. - - - - -Pagamino da Monaco, _a roving Pirate on the Seas, caried away the -faire Wife of_ Signior Ricciardo di Chinzica, _who understanding where -shee was, went thither; and falling into friendship with_ Pagamino, -_demaunded his Wife of him; whereto he yeelded, provided, 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 Novell. - -_Wherein olde men are wittily reprehended, that will match themselves -with younger women, then is fit for their yeares and insufficiencie; -never considering, what afterward may happen to them._ - - -Every one in this honest and gracious assembly, most highly commended -the Novell 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 Novell, 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 unmanly -indiscretion of _Bernardo_, but much more the base arrogancie of -_Ambroginolo_, how justly deserved shame fell upon him; as well it -may happen to all other, that are so vile in their owne opinions, as -he apparantly approved himselfe to be. For, as men wander abroade in -the world, according to their occasions in diversity of Countries, and -observation of the peoples behaviour: so are their humours as variously -transported. And if they finde women wantonly disposed abroade, the -like judgement they give of their wives at home; as if they had never -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 themselves to be endued with more strength, then -Nature ever meant to bestow upon them, foolishly beleeving, that they -can cover 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 lived in _Pisa_ (about some hundred -yeeres before _Tuscanie_ & _Liguria_ came to embrace the Christian -Faith) a Judge better stored with wisdome and ingenuity, then corporall -abilities of the body, he 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 endeavour) to enjoy a faire and youthfull wife in marriage: both -which qualities he should much rather have avoyded, if he could have -ministred as good counsell to himselfe, as he did to others, resorting -to him for advice. - -Upon this his amorous and diligent inquisition, it came so to passe, -that a worthy Gentlewoman, 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 motive of this mariage, and no expectation -of mutuall contentment. The Judge being maried, and the Bride brought -solemnly home to his house, we need make no question of brave cheare -& banqueting, wel furnished by their friends on either side: other -matters were now hammering in the Judges 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 continuall requests, that the -Judge failing in plea for his owne defence, was often non-suited by -lacke of answer; yet he wanted neither good wines, drugges, and all -restauratives, to comfort the heart, and encrease good blood; but all -avayled not in this case. - -But well fare a good courage, where performance faileth, he could -liberally commend his passed joviall 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 -_Ravenna_, 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 -reverence of whom, and for their sakes, he approved by divers 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 honour of our Lords rest, and all the sacred time of -Lent; as also certaine observations of the Moone, & infinite other -exceptions beside; thinking perhaps, that it was as convenient for men -to refraine from their wives conversation, as he did often times from -sitting in the Court. These were his daily documents to his young wife, -wherewith (poore soule) she became so tired, as nothing could be more -irksome to her; and very carefull he was, lest any other shold teach her -what belonged to working daies, because he wold have her know none but -holidaies. - -Afterward it came to passe, that the season waxing extremely hot, -_Signior Ricciardo_ would goe recreate himselfe at his house in the -Countrey, neere unto the black Mountaine, where for his faire wives -more contentment, he continued divers dayes together. And for her -further recreation, he gave order, to have a day of fishing; he going -aboard a small Pinnace among the Fishers, and shee was in another, -consorted with divers other Gentlewomen, in whose company shee shewed -her selfe very well pleased. Delight made them launch further into -the Sea, then either the Judge was willing they should have done, -or agreed with respect of their owne safety. For suddenly a Galliot -came upon 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 coveted 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_ Judge had seene this theft (he being so jealous 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 injury he had sustained -by those Pyrates, in carying his wife thus away from him: but all was -in vaine, he neither (as yet) knew the man, nor whether he had conveyed -her from him. _Pagamino_ perceiving 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 using any harsh or uncivill demeanour to her, -because shee wept and lamented grievously. But when night came, her -husbands Calendar falling from her girdle, and all the fasts & feasts -quite out of her remembrance; she received such curteous consolations -from _Pagamino_, that before they could arrive at _Monaco_, the Judge -& his Law cases, were almost out of her memory, such was his affable -behaviour to her, and she began to converse 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 Judge, 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 then an houres space, they -grew into familiar & private conference: _Pagamino_ yet pretending not -to know him, but expected what issue this talke would sort to. When -time served, the Judge discoursed the occasion of his comming thither, -desiring him to demand what ransome he pleased, & that he might have -his wife home with him; whereto _Pagamino_ thus answered. - -My Lord Judge, you are welcome hither, and to answer you breefely -very true it is, that I have a yong Gentlewoman in my house, whome I -neither know to be your wife, of any other mans elsee whatsoever: 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 avouch, 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 have said, and be willing to depart hence with you: I shall rest -well satisfied, and will have no other recompence for her ransome (in -regard of your grave and reverent yeares) but what your selfe shall -please to give me. But if it fall out otherwise, and prove not to be -as you have 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 elsee that I know. Beleeve it -certainly, replied the Judge, that she is my wife, and if you please -to bring me where she is, you shall soone perceive it: for, she will -presently cast her armes about my neck, and I durst adventure the utter -losse of her, if shee denie to doe it in your presence. Come on then, -said _Pagamino_, and let us 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 conversing together; never uttering 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 Judge -beheld, (who expected to finde a farre more gracious welcome) he stoode -as a man amazed, saying to himselfe. Perhaps the extraordinary griefe -and melancholly, 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 Love, dearely -have I bought your going on fishing, because never man felt the like -afflictions, as I have done since the day when I lost you: but by this -your uncivill silence, you seeme as if you did not know me. Why dearest -Love, seest thou not that I am thy husband _Ricciardo_, who am come to -pay what ransome this Gentleman shall demaund, even in the house where -now we are: so to convay thee home againe, upon his kinde promise of -thy deliverance, 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? Advise your selfe well, -least you mistake me for some other, because, concerning my selfe, -I doe not remember, that ever 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 loving 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 upon you never so often, certaine I am, that (till this -instant) I have not seene you. - -My Lord Judge conceived in his mind, that thus she denied all -knowledge 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 favour, that he might speake alone with her in -her Chamber. _Pagamino_ answered, that he was well contented therewith, -provided, that he should not kisse her against her will. Then he -requested _Bertolomea_, 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 have in this world; wilt -thou not know thine owne _Ricciardo_, who loveth 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 have you to -understand Sir, that my memory is not so oblivious, 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 judgement) the world reputed you to be, you could not -be voide of so much apprehension, but did apparantly perceive, 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 utter it. But -if studying the Lawes were more welcome to you then a wife, you ought -not to have maried, & you loose the worthy reputation of a Judge, 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 conversation of -husbands and wives. - -Here am I now with a worthy Gentleman, that entertained mee with very -honourable respect, and here I live 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 civill conversation, 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 enjoying any company of mine, for you heare my -resolved determination. - -The Judge hearing these words, was overcome with exceeding griefe, & -when she was silent, thus he began. Alas deare Love, what an answer is -this? Hast thou no regard of thine owne honour, thy Parents, & friends? -Canst thou rather affect to abide here, for the pleasures of this man, -and so sin capitally, then to live 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 reject thee. I must and shall love -thee for ever, and when I dye, I leave 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 loves 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 endeavour -heereafter to give thee better contentment. Wherefore (deare heart) doe -not denie me, but change thy minde, and goe with me, for I never saw -merry day since I lost thee. - -Sir (quoth she) I desire no body to have care of mine honour, 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 have I to regard them now? -And whereas you taxe me, that I cannot live 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 conjunction betweene you and me, whereas -here I am subject to no such constellations. You say beside, that -hereafter you will strive to give me better contentment then you have -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 rejecting me, when -his humour is satisfied; should if it prove to be so (as it is the -least part of my feare) what fortune soever shall betide me, never will -I make any meanes to you, what miseries or misadventures 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 live secured from all offence to holy Saints, and not -to injury their feasts, fasts, vigills, and other ceremonious seasons: -here is my demourance, and from hence I purpose not to part. - -Our Judge was now in a wofull perplexity, and confessing his folly, in -marying a wife so yong, and far unfit for his age and abilitie: being -halfe desperate, sad and displeased, he came forth of the Chamber, -using divers 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 -upon him, because the people began to scorne him, demanding dayly of -him, what was become of his gallant young wife, making hornes, with -ridiculous pointings at him: whereby his sences became distracted, -so that he ran raving 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 living with her in much felicity. Wherefore -(faire Ladies) I am of opinion, that _Bernardo_ of _Geneway_, in his -disputation with _Ambroginolo_, might have 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 upon another, with one consent commended _Dioneus_, -maintaining that he spake nothing but the truth, & condemning -_Bernardo_ for his cruelty. Upon a generall silence commanded, the -Queene perceiving that the time was now very farre spent, and every -one had delivered their severall Novelse, which likewise gave a period -to her Royalty: shee gave the Crowne to Madam _Neiphila_, pleasantly -speaking to her in this order. Heereafter, the government of these few -people is committed to your trust and care, for with the day concludeth -my dominion. Madam _Neiphila_, blushing at the honour done unto her, her -cheekes appeared of a vermillion tincture, her eyes glittering with -gracefull desires, and sparkling 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 have elected me your Queene, to varie -somewhat from the course observed by them that went before me, whose -government you have all so much commended: by approbation of your -counsell, I am desirous to speake my mind, concerning what I wold have -to be next followed. It is not unknown 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. Moreover, Friday ought to be reverendly -respected, in remembrance of him, who died to give us 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 & devotions, then the repetition of tales or Novelse. Now -concerning Saturday, it hath bin a custom observed among women, to bath -& wash themselves from such immundicities as the former weekes toile -hath imposed on them. Beside, it is a day of fasting, in honour of the -ensuing Sabath, whereon no labour may be done, but the observation of -holy exercises. - -By that which hath bin saide, you may easily conceive, that the course -which we have hitherto continued, cannot bee prosecuted, in one and -the same manner: wherefore, I would advice and do hold it an action wel -performed by us, to cease for these few dayes, from recounting any -other Novelse. And because we have remained here foure daies already, -except we would allow the enlarging of our company, with some other -friends that may resort unto us: I think it necessary to remove from -hence, & take our pleasure in another place, which is already by me -determined. When we shal be there assembled, and have slept on the -discourses formerly delivered, let our next argument be still the -mutabilities of Fortune, but especially to concerne such persons, as -by their wit and ingenuity, industriously have attained to some matter -earnestly desired, or elsee recovered againe, after the losse. Heereon -let us severally study and premeditate, that the hearers may receive -benefit thereby, with the comfortable maintenance of our harmlesse -recreations; the priviledge of _Dioneus_ alwayes reserved to himselfe. - -Every one commended the Queens deliberation, concluding that it shold -be accordingly prosecuted: and thereupon, the master of the houshold -was called, to give him order for that evenings Table service, and -what elsee concerned the time of the Queenes Royalty, wherein he was -sufficiently instructed: which being done, the company arose, licensing -every one to doe what they listed. The Ladies and Gentlemen walked to -the Garden, and having sported themselves 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 _Æmilia_ 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 elsee can sing, - Of those delights, which kind contentment bring? - Come, come, sweet Love, 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 joy doth counterchecke: - Stolne pleasures are delightfull in the taste, - But yet Loves 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 Love, that I may still - Enjoy 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 joyne in an happy close. - Then if not I, what Lover elsee can sing, - Of those delights which kind contentment bring._ - -After this Song was ended, they sung divers other beside, and having -great variety of instruments, they played 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 devotion. - -_The ende of the second Day._ - - - - -The Third Day. - -_Upon which Day, all matters to be discoursed on, doe passe under the -regiment of Madam_ Neiphila: _concerning such persons as (by their wit -and industry) have attained to their long wished desires, or recovered -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, having (long before) sent all things necessary to the place -of their next intended meeting. And the people which prepared there -every 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 upon the Ladies and -Gentlemen. - -With a milde, majesticke, 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 travelled two small miles distance, all of -them pleasantly conversing together; they arrived at another goodly -Palace, which being somewhat mounted above 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 -Parlours, and beautifull Chambers, every one stupendiously furnished, -with all convenient 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 every 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 divers servants attending on -him, presenting them with Comfits, and other Banquetting, as also very -singular Wines, to serve in sted of a breakefast. - -Having thus reposed themselves 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 beautifull Garden, stored with all varieties that possibly -could be devised; and therefore they observed it the more respectively. -The walkes and allyes were long and spacious, yet directly straite as -an arrow, environed with spreading vines, whereon the grapes hung in -copious clusters; which being come to their full ripenesse, gave so rare -a smell throughout the Garden, with other sweete savours 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, deserving 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 diversities of floures, even 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 -savour to the smell. - -In the middest of this Meadow, stood a Fountaine of white Marble, -whereon was engraven 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 up 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 overflow the bounds, it streamed along the Meadow, -by secret passages and chanelse, very faire and artificially made, -returning againe into every part of the Meadow, by the like wayes of -cunning conveighance, which allowed it full course into the Garden, -running swiftly thence down towards the plaine; but before it came -thether, the very swift current of the streame, did drive two goodly -Milles, which 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 rivolets -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 walked 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, even as if they envied each others felicities. - -But yet another beauty (which before had not presented it selfe unto -them) on a sodaine they perceyved; namely divers 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 every where: yet without strife or warring -together, but rather living in such a Domesticke and pleasing kinde of -company, even as if they were appoynted to enstruct the most noble of -all creatures, to imitate their sociable conversation. - -When their senses had sufficiently banquetted on these several -beauties, the tables were sodainly prepared about the Fountaine, -where first they sung sixe Canzonets; and having paced two or three -dances, they sate downe to dinner, according as the Queene ordained, -being served 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 upon their instruments, singing and -dancing gracefully together: till, in regard of the extreame heate, the -_Queene_ commanded to give over, and permitted such as were so pleased, -to take their ease and rest. But some, as not satisfied with the places -pleasures, gave themselves to walking: others fell to reading the lives -of the Romanes; some to the Chesse, and the rest to other recreations. - -But, after the dayes warmth was more mildely qualified, and everie one -had made benefit of their best content: they went (by order sent from -the _Queene_) into the Meadow where the Fountaine stood, and being -set about it, as they used 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 -conversation with them all._ - -The first Novell. - -_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 put on hir head (after it is once shorn and filletted) & -the blacke Cowle given to cover her withall: shee is no longer a woman, -nor more sensible of feminine affections, then as if in turning Nun, -shee became converted 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 -have power to do what they list, yea beyonde all meanes of sufficient -satisfying; never remembring withall, how potent the priviledge of -idlenesse is, especially when it is backt by solitude. - -In like manner, there are other people now, who do verily believe, -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 understanding. But I will approve (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 upon 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 -Admirall. And therein, under the care and trust of one woman, divers -virgins were kept as recluses or Nunnes, vowed to chastity of life; -out of whose number, the Soldan of _Babylon_ (under whom they lived -in subjection) at every three yeares end, had usually three of these -virgins sent him. At the time whereof I am now to speak, there remained -in the Monastery, no more but eight religious Sisters only, beside -the Governesse 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 serve -there no longer: but making his accounts even, with the _Factotum_ -or Bayliffe belonging to the house, returned thence to the village -of _Lamporechio_, being a native of the place. Among many other that -gave 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 up -all his yonger dayes, his name of _Masset_ (according to their vulgar -speech) was turned to _Massetto_, and therefore he was usually 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 services hee had done in the Monasterie, -having 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 uppe -all their water beside, with many other toilesome services elsee: 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 devill dwelse among them, for a man cannot doe any -thing to please them. When I have 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 have lefte all businesse, gave over the Garden, and what for one -molestation, 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 undertake 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 elsee 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 live with such women? It were better for him -to dwell among so many divelse, because they understand not the tenth -part that womens wily wits can dive 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. -Having 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 have wit sufficient, cleanely to make them beleeve that I -am dumbe, then (questionlesse) I shall be received. And resolving to -prosecute this determination, he tooke a Spade on his shoulder, and -without revealing to any body, whether he went, in the disguise of a -poore labouring countryman, he travelled to the Monastery. - -When he was there arrived, 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 given description of him. Making signes -before him, as if he were both dumbe and deafe; he manifested, that -he craved an Almes for Gods sake, making shewes beside, that if need -required, he could cleave wood, or do any reasonable kinde of service. -The _Fac-totum_ gladly gave him food, and afterward shewed him divers -knotty logs of wood, which the weake strength of _Lurco_ had left -uncloven; but this fellow being more active 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 divers Trees, by signes he bad him to lade the two -Asses therewith, which commonly carried home all the wood, and so drive -them to the Monasterie before him, which _Massetto_ knew well enough -how to do, and performed it very effectually. - -Many other servile offices were there to bee done, which caused the -_Fac-totum_ to make use of his paines divers 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 crave an almes the other -day, which in charity I could do no lesse but give him; for which hee -hath done many honest services 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 services: for the old -silly man is gone, and we have neede of such a stout fellow, to do the -businesse belonging unto the Monastery, and one fitter for the turne, -comes sildome hither. Moreover, 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: -understand then, if hee have any knowledge in Gardening, and whether -hee will dwell heere, or no: which compasse so kindly as you can. Let -him have 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 joyfull 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_ perceived, that -he knew perfectly how to undergo his businesse, and had questioned -him by signes, concerning his willingnesse to serve there still, and -received the like answer also, of his dutifull readinesse thereto; -he gave him order, to worke in the Garden, because the season did -now require it; and to leave 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 lavish 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 deprived both -of hearing and speaking, stood the lesse in feare of the Sisters -walks, but referred them to their owne care and providence. On a day, -_Massetto_ having laboured somewhat extraordinarily, lay downe to rest -him selfe awhile under 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 observing his comelinesse of person, began -to pity the poverty of his condition, but much more the misery of his -great defectes. Then one of them, who had a little livelier 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, I -would tell thee a thing which I have often thought on, and it may -(perhaps) redound to thy profit. [Sidenote: Example, at least excuses -formed to that intent prevaileth much with such kind of religious -women.] Sister, replyed the other Nun, speake your minde boldly, and -beleeve it (on my Maiden-head) that I will never reveale it to any -creature living. Encouraged by this solemne answer, the first Nun thus -prosecuted her former purpose, saying. I know not Sister, whether -it hath entred into thine understanding or no, how strictly we are -here kept and attended, never any man daring to adventure among us, -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 oftentimes bin told me, -by Gentle-women comming hither to visite us, 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 unkind parents, binding us to -perpetuall chastity, which they were never able to observe themselves. - -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 discovering the same to her Ghostly Father in -confession; he absolved her of that sinne; affirming, that she had -not transgressed with a man, because he wanted his rationall and -understanding parts. Behold Sister, heere lyes a creature, almost -formed in the selfe-same mold, dumb and deafe, which are two the -most rational and understanding 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 Lawes and constitutions of our -Religion doth teach us, that a sinne so assuredly concealed, is more -then halfe absolved. - -_Ave Maria_ Sister (said the other Nunne) what kinde of words are these -you utter? Doe not you know, that wee have promised our virginity to -God? Oh Sister (answered the other) how many things are promised to -him every day, and not one of a thousand kept or performed? If wee -have made him such a promise, and some of our weaker witted Sisters do -performe it for us, 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 prove 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 us consider -on it then: thou art but a Novice in matters of such moment, and wee -are provided of a thousand meanes, whereby to prevent conception. Or, -if they should faile, wee are so surely fitted, that the world shall -never know it: let it suffice, our lives 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 selves, -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, heard 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 -behaviour: into the close Arbour they went, which the Sunnes bright -eye could not pierce into, and there I leave it to the Nunnes owne -approbation, whether _Massetto_ was a man rationall, or no. Ill deedes -require longer time to contrive, then act, and both the Nunnes, having -beene with _Massetto_ at this new forme of confession, were enjoyned -(by him) such an easie and silent penance, as brought them the oftner -to shrift, and made him to proove a perfect Confessour. - -Desires obtained, but not fully satisfied, doe commonly urge more -frequent accesse, then wisdome thinkes expedient, or can continue -without discoverie. Our two Joviall Nunnes, not a little proud of -their private stolne pleasures, so long resorted to the close Arbour; -till an other Sister, who had often observed 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 upon a further -conference had with the offenders, they changed opinion, tooke the same -oath as the forewoman had done, and because they would be free from any -taxation at all: they revealed their adventures to the other three -ignorants, and so fell all eight into one formall confederacie, but by -good and warie observation, 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 under an Almond tree, having then very little -businesse to doe, because he had wrought hard all the night before. -Shee observed him to be an hansome man, young, lusty, well limbde, and -proportioned, having a mercifull commisseration of his dumbnesse and -deafenesse, being perswaded also in like manner, that if he were an -Eunuch too, he deserved 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 resolved, -almost falling sicke of the other Nunnes disease. Having awaked him, -she commanded him (by signes) that he should follow her to her chamber, -where he was kept 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 advanced 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 -behaviour pleased her so well, as it procured his daily repairing -thither; and acquainted her with such familiar conversation, as shee -would have 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 undertaken a taske belonging to great _Hercules_, -in giving contentment 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 have often heard it said, that one Cocke may doe service -to ten severall Hennes, but ten men can (very hardly) even with all -their best endeavour, give full satisfaction every way to one woman; -and yet I am tied to content nine, which is farre beyond the compasse -of my power to doe. Already have I performed so much Garden and -Chamber-worke, that I confesse my selfe starke tired, and can travaile -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 served there dumbe; being stricken into -admiration, and accounting it almost a miracle, saide. How commeth this -to passe? I verily beleeved 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 have not onely -recovered againe this night, but shall ever remaine thankfull to you -for it. - -The Abbesse verily credited his answer, demanding what he meant, -in saying, that he did service to nine? Madam, quoth he, this were -a dangerous question, and not easily answered before all the eight -Sisters. Upon this reply, the Abbesse plainly perceived, 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 recovery of -speech revealed, and some things elsee more neerely concerning them: by -generall consent, & with the good liking of _Massetto_, he was created -the _Fac-totum_ of the Monasterie. - -All the neighbouring people dwelling thereabout, who knew _Massetto_ -to be dumbe, by fetching home wood daily from the Forrest, and divers -employments in other places; were made to beleeve that by the Nunnes -devoute 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_, having 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 never 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 Native 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, having (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 discovered by the -King, and the party knowne, he gave 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 Novell. - -_Wherein is signified, the providence of a wise man, when he shall -have reason to use revenge. And the cunning craft of another, when hee -compasseth meanes to defend himselfe from perill._ - - -When the Novell 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 (neverthelesse) make shew -of knowing and understanding such things, as neither they are able to -doe, nor appertaine to them: whereby they will sometimes reprehend -other mens errors, and such faults as they have unwillingly 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. - -_Agilulffo_, King of _Lombardie_, according as his Predecessours -had done before him, made the principall seate of his Kingdome, in -the Citie of _Pavia_, having 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 -unfortunate 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 providence 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 -servile condition, had endued him with so much understanding, as to -know infallibly, that his affection was mounted, beyond the compasse of -conveniencie; wisely hee concealed it to himselfe, not acquainting any -one therewith, or daring so much, as to discover it either by lookes, -or any other affectionate behaviour. - -And although hee lived utterly hopelesse, of ever attaining to his -hearts desires; yet notwithstanding, hee proudly gloried, that his love -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 above his -fellowes and companions, in the performing of all such serviceable -duties, as any way he imagined might content the Queene. Whereon -ensued, that whensoever shee roade abroad to take the ayre, shee used -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 gave dayly his due attendance: -so that, to touch the Stirrope, but (much more) to put her foote into -it, or touch any part of her garments, he thought it the onely heaven -on earth. - -But, as we see it oftentimes come to passe, that by how much the lower -hope declineth, so much the higher love ascendeth; even so fel it out -with this poore Querry; for, most irkesome was it to him, to endure the -heavy waight of his continuall oppressions, not having any hope at all -of the very least mitigation. And being utterly unable to relinquish -his love divers times he resolved on some desperate conclusion, which -might yet give the world an evident testimony, that he dyed for the -love he bare to the Queene. And upon 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 -missive of his love; 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, -under 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 -usuall habit was of the King, when he came to keepe companie with his -Queene: he hid himselfe divers 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 using 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 observed. - -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 -conveighed away thence with him, being provided 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 elsee 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 adventures upon his lives perill. Twice hee knockt softly -at the doore, which a wayting woman immediately opened, and receyving -the Light, went forth into the Gallery, while the supposed King, was -conversing with 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 having compassed what he most coveted, 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, unheard or discerned by -any of his fellowes, divers 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 mervaile of the drowsie wayting woman, -who was never 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 Majestie was become more pleasantly disposed, whereat -the Queene began not a little to mervaile. Now trust mee Sir, quoth -shee, this hath been a long wished, and now most welcome alteration, -vouchsafing 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 advisedly) hee considered, that in regard the party -was unknowne 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 -have answered and sworne; I came not hither this night, till now. -Whereupon many dangers might ensue, to the dishonour and prejudice of -the Queene; beside, hir error being discovered to hir, might afterward -be an occasion, to urge a wandring in her appetite, and to covet 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 -discover, 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 only desire you to have 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 injurie -offered him; he wrapt his night-mantle about him, and leaving his -Chamber, imagining, that whatsoever he was, needes he must be one of -his owne house: he tooke a light in his hand, and convayed it into -a little Lanthorne, purposing to be resolved 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 divers beds. Now, this was his conceite, that -whosoever 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 discovering 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 usurped his place, who could not as yet sleepe, for joy of -his atchieved adventure. 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 discovered his agony. And although -many considerations were in his braine, yet because he saw that the -King was unarmed, 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, whereby to gather a grounded -probability; untill 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. - -Neverthelesse, purposing to make no apparance of his further intention, -he did nothing elsee 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 used 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; perceived plainely (being a subtill ingenious fellow) -for what intent he was thus marked. Wherefore, without any longer -dallying, up he rose, and taking a paire of sheares, wherewith they -used 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 perceived by any one of them, quietly he laide him downe -againe. - -In the morning, when the King was risen, he gave command that before -the Pallace gates were opened, all his whole Family should come before -him, as instantly his will was fulfilled. Standing all uncovered 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 have -their lockes cut, all after one and the selfe same manner; marvailing -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 deject or common understanding. 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 revenge: -but rather (by way of admonition) to let the offender know in a word, -that he was both noted and observed. 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 have served 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 upon the very least babling rumor. -Such therefore as heard the Kings words, few though they were, yet -truly wise; marvelled much at them, and by long examinations among -themselves, questioned, but came far short of his meaning; the man -onely excepted, whom indeede they concerned, and by whom they were -never discovered, so long as the King lived, neither did he dare at any -time after, to hazard his life in the like action, under the frownes or -favour of Fortune. - - - - -_Under colour of Confession, and of a most pure conscience, a faire -young Gentlewoman, being amourously affected to an honest man; induced -a devoute and solemne religious Friar, to advise her in the meanes -(without his suspition or perceiving) how to enjoy the benefit of her -friend, and bring her desires to their full effect._ - -The third Novell. - -_Declaring, that the leude and naughty qualities of some persons, doe -oftentimes misguide good people, into very great and greevous 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, turning 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 jest, but earnest) by a faire Gentlewoman, to a -grave and devoute religious Friar, which will yeelde so much the -more pleasure and recreation, to every secular understander, if but -diligently he or shee doe observe; how commonly those religious persons -(at least the most part of them) like notorious fooles, are the -inventers of new courses and customes, as thinking themselves more wise -and skilful in all things then any other; yet prove to be of no worth -or validity, addicting the very best of all their devises, to expresse -their owne vilenesse of minde, and fatten themselves in their sties, -like to pampered Swine. And assure your selves worthy Ladies, that -I doe not tell this Tale onely to follow the order enjoyned me; but -also to informe you that such Saint-like holy Sirs, of whom we are too -opinative and credulous, may be, yea, and are (divers 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 love or -faithfull dealing) there lived 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 Novell, I meane not to make manifest, -albeit I know them, because some are yet living, and thereby may be -scandalized; and therefore it shall suffice to passe them over 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 lived by the making and selling of Cloth: shee could -not (because he was a Trades-man) take downe the height of her minde; -conceiving, that no man of meane condition (how rich soever) was worthy -to enjoy a Gentlewoman in marriage. Observing moreover, that with all -his wealth and treasure, he understood nothing better, then to open -skeines of yarne, fill shuttles, lay webbes in Loomes, or dispute with -his Spinsters, about their businesse. - -Being thus over-swayed with her proud opinion, shee would no longer -be embraced, or regarded by him in any manner, saving 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 love, 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 understand it, neither by any womans close conveyed -message, nor yet by Letters, as fearing the perils which happen in such -cases. But her eye observing his daily walkes and resorts, gave her -notice of his often conversing 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. - -Having considered with her selfe, what course was best to be observed -in this case; upon a day, apt and convenient, shee went to the Convent, -where he kept, and having caused him to be called, shee told him, that -if his leysure so served, 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 convenient, that I should have recourse -to you, to be assisted by your help and councell, in a matter which I -will impart unto 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 -have it of him, he being a most rich man, and may very sufficiently -affoord it. In regard whereof, I love him equally as my selfe, and, -setting aside my best endeavours for him; I must tell you one thing, -if I should do anything contrary to his liking and honour, no woman -can more worthily deserve death, then my selfe. Understand then, good -Father, that there is a man, whose name I know not, but hee seemeth -to be honest, and of good worth; moreover (if I am not deceived) 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 never 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 mervaile, that he is not now here. - -Let me tell you holy Sir, that such behaviours, doe many times lay bad -imputations upon very honest women, yet without any offence in them. -It hath often run in my minde, to let him have knowledge thereof by my -brethren: but afterward I considered, that men (many times) deliver -messages in such sort, as draw on very ungentle 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 -priviledgeth 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 (even for our blessed -Ladies sake) that you would give him a friendly reprehension, and -advise him, to use such unmanly 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, beleeved -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 usuall -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, giving 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 enjoyned her, shee promised to -make her parents bountifull benefactours to the Convent, 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 -usuall manner, and having done his duty to the holy Father; they sate -downe together privately, falling out of one discourse into another. -At the length, the Frier (in very loving and friendly sort) mildly -reproved him, for such amorous glaunces, and other pursuites, which -(as he thought) hee dayly used to the Gentlewoman, according to -her owne speeches. The Gentleman mervailed greatly thereat, as one -that had never 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. Never make such admiration at the -matter, neither waste more words in these stout denials, because they -cannot serve thy turne: I tell thee plainely, I heard it not from any -neighbours, but even 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 under -the seale of absolute assurance) that she is the onely woman of the -world, who (in my true judgement) doth hate and abhorre all such base -behaviour. Wherefore, in regard of thine owne honour, as also not to -vexe & prejudice so vertuous a Gentlewoman: I pray thee refrain such -idlenes henceforward, & suffer hir to live in peace. - -The Gentleman, being a little wiser then his ghostly Father, perceived -immediatly (without any further meditating on the matter) the notable -pollicie of the woman: whereupon, making somewhat bashfull appearance -of any error already committed; hee said, hee would afterward be better -advised. 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 observe, when hee should walke -that way: And seeing him comming, she shewed her selfe so joyfull, -and gracious to him, as he easily understood, whereto the substance -of the holy Fathers chiding tended. And, from that time forward, hee -used dayly, though in covert manner (to the no little liking of the -Gentlewoman and himselfe) to make his passage through that streete, -under 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 convenient 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 perceiving, sorrowfully demanded of her, what new accident had -happened? Holy Father (quoth shee) no novell accident, but onely your -wicked and ungracious friend, by whom (since I was here with you, yea, -no longer agoe then yesterday) I have beene so wronged, as I verily -beleeve that hee was borne to be my mortall enemie, and to make me doe -something to my utter disgrace for ever; 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 abusively? - -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 evill part, to be contraried in his wanton humours, hath (meerely in -despight) walked seaven times in a day by my doore, whereas formerly, -he never used it above 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 -even 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 -grievously offended, as had it not beene for my due respect and feare -of God, and next the sacred reverence I beare to you my ghostly Father; -doubtlesse, I had done some wicked deede. Neverthelesse, happily I -withstood it, and will neither say or doe any thing in this case, till -first I have made it knowne to you. - -Then I called to minde, that having redelivered 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 beleeve, that I had -received them (as I have heard such kind of women use to doe sometimes) -and in anger I snatcht them from her, and have brought them hither to -you, to the end that you may give him them againe; and tell him, I have -no neede of any such things, thankes be to Heaven 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 just excuse, that if -he will not abstaine from thus molesting me, I will disclose it to my -Husband, Father, and Brethren, whatsoever shall ensue thereon: for I -had rather he should receive the injury (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 counterfeit sobbes, sighes, and teares, these wordes -were delivered; and drawing foorth from under her gowne, a very faire -and rich purse, as also a Girdle of great worth, shee threw them into -the Friers lap. - -He verily beleeving all this false report, being 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, not will any wise man reproove 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 -leave off from further injurying 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 covetousness of -him and his equals, she said. Holy Father, some few nights past, me -thought in my sleepe, that divers spirits of my kindred appeared to me -in a vision, who (me thought) were in very great paines, and desired -nothing else but Almes; especially my God-mother, who seemed to bee -afflicted with such extreme poverty, 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 deliver her soule and the others, out of those fearfull -flames; among your infinite other devout prayers, I would have you to -say the fortie Masses of S. _Gregory_, as a meanes for their happy -deliverance, 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 devotion: and when he had given 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 behaviour 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 utterly 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 ever saw them till now. - -The Gentleman, seeming as if he were much ashamed, saide. Truely -Father I do know them, and confesse that I have done ill, and very -greatly offended: but now I will sweare unto you, seeing I understande -how firmely she is affected, that you shall never heare any more -complaints of me. Such were his vowes and protestations, as in the end -the ghostly Father gave him both the Purse and Girdle: then after he -had preached, & severely conjured him, never more to vexe her with any -gifts at all, and he binding himselfe thereto by a solemne promise, -he gave him license to depart. Now grew the Gentleman very jocond, -being so surely certified of his Mistresses love, 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 receyved from her, whereof -she was extraordinarily joyfull, because her devices grew still better -and better; nothing now wanting, but her husbands absence, upon some -journey 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 journey to _Geneway_; and no sooner was hee mounted on -horsebacke, taking leave 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 just reason of my anger, and full purpose to avoid all further -molestation. - -Your friend I cannot terme him, but (questionles) a very divel of hell. -This morning, before the breake of day, having heard (but how, I know -not) that my husband was ridden to _Geneway_: got over the wall into my -Garden, and climbing up a tree which standeth close before my chamber -window, when I was fast asleepe, opened the Casement, and would have -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 never 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 -never saw him, or heard any tidings of him. Now judge you, holy Father, -whether these be honest courses, or no, and to be endured by any civil -Gentlewoman; neither would I so patiently have suffered this, but onely -in my dutifull reverence 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 divers times, whether she knew him so perfectly, that she did not -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 over-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 dishonour, and twice already thou hast credited my counsell, let -me now advise thee this last time. Spare speech, or complaining to any -other of thy friends, and leave it to me, to try if I can overcome -this unchained divel, 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 give thee leave to do, even what thy heart will best -tutor thee to. You see Sir (said shee) what manner of man he is, yet -would I not have you troubled or disobeyed, only I desire to live -without disturbance, which work (I beseech you) as best you may: for -I promise you, good Father, never to solicite you more uppon 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, gave him the most injurious words that could be used to a man, -calling him disloyall, perjured, and a traitor. Hee who had formerly -twice perceived, how high the holy mans anger mounted, did nothing but -expect what he wold say; and, like a man extreamly perplexed, strove -how to get it from him, saying; Holy Father, how come you to be so -heinously offended? What have I done to incense you so strangely? Heare -mee dishonest wretch answered the Frier, listen what I shall say unto -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? Wheresoever 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 upon urgent necessity. - -After a little curbing in of his wrath, somewhat in a milder strain, -thus he proceeded. Because the Gentlewomans husband is journeyed to -_Geneway_, proves this a ladder to your hope, that to embrace her in -your armes, you must climbe over the Garden wall, like a treacherous -robber in the night season, mount up a tree before her Chamber window, -open the Casement, as hoping to compasse that by importunity, which her -spotlesse chastity will never permit. There is nothing in the world, -that possibly she can hate more then you, and yet you will love 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 loving -admonishments might have 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 injuries 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 have given her free license, if ever -heereafter you offer to attempt her any more, to make her complaint -before her Brethren, which will redound to your no meane danger. - -The Gentleman, having wisely collected his Love-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 misbehaviour of his. And being gone from him, followed the -instructions given in her complaint, by climbing over 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 favour of his -Daughter._ - -The fourth Novell. - -_Wherein is declared, what craft and subtilty some wily wits can -devise, to deceive 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 strive 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 have 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 endeavours to Alchimy: -wherefore, he kept no other family, but onely a widdowed daughter, and -a servant; and because he had no other Art or exercise, hee used 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 above 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 have done, but when she communed or jested with any -body, she would talke of nothing, but onely concerning the great vertue -in Alchimy, extolling it above 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 resolve him in -many doubts, depending on his profession of Alchimy, (himselfe having -onely practise, but no great learning) he used many questions to him, -shewed him very especiall matters of secrecy, entertaining him often to -dinners and suppers, whensoever he pleased to come and converse with -him; and his daughter likewise, perceiving with what favour her Father -respected him, became the more familiar with him, allowing him good -regard and reverence. - -The young man continuing his resort to the House of _Puccio_, and -observing 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 save anothers labour, supply -them by his best endeavours. Thus not alwayes carrying his eyes before -him, but using 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 observing the same, as occasion -first smiled on him, and allowed him favourable 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) used to watch well neere all the night, -as commonly he did, each night after other, never stirring foorth of -the roomes, which much abated the edge of the young mans appetite. -After infinite intricate revolvings, wheeling about his busied braine, -he thought it not altogether an _Herculian_ taske, to enjoy his -happinesse in the house, and without any suspition, albeit _Puccio_ -kept still within doores, and watched as hee was wont to doe. - -Upon a day as he sate in familiar conference with _Puccio_, he began -to speake unto him in this manner; I have many times noted, kinde -friend _Puccio_, that all thy desire and endeavour 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 observed -and followed, yet were never willing to instruct other men therein; -whereby the misterie might be drowned in oblivion, and prosecuted by -none but onely great Lords, that are able to undergoe it. But because -thou art mine especiall friend, and I have received from thee infinite -kind favours; whereas I never 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 understand 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 unto him, never to disclose it to any person, except -hee gave his consent thereto; affirming beside, that it was a rarity, -not easie to be comprehended by very apprehensive judgements. Well -(quoth _Felice_) seeing thou hast made me such a sound and solemne -promise, I will make it knowne unto thee. - -Know then friend _Puccio_, the Philosophers do hold, that such as covet -to become rich indeed, must understand 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 even as rich as now thou -art; but thou shalt plainly perceive, that the very grosest substance, -which hitherto thou hast seene, all of them shal be 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, he must give very carefull -attendance, wholly abstaining from sleepe, slumbering, or so much as -nodding all that while. - -Moreover, in some apt and convenient 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 -upright on thy feete, and leaning the reines of thy backe against it; -thou must stande stedfastly in that manner every night, without the -least motion or stirring, untill the breake of day appeareth, and -thine eyes still uppon the Furnace fixed, to keepe ever in memory, the -true order which I have prescribed. So soone as the morning is seene, -thou mayst (if thou wilt) walke, or rest a little upon thy bed, and -afterward go about thy businesse, if thou have any. Then go to dinner, -attending readily till the evenings approch, preparing such things -as I will readily set thee downe in writing, without which there is -not any thing to bee done; and then returne to the same taske againe, -not varying a jot from the course directed. Before the time be fully -expired, thou shalt perceive many apparant signes, that the stone is -still in absolute forwardnesse, but it will bee utterly lost if thou -fayle in the least of all the observances. And when the experience hath -crowned thy labour, thou art sure to have the Philosophers stone, and -thereby shalt be able to enrich all, and worke wonders beside. - -_Puccio_ instantly replied. Now trust me Sir, there is no 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 favour, in helping to direct the Furnace and Table, -according as you imagine most convenient) 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 understood sufficiently, and what would ensue on his -nightly watching in that manner, returning him answer, that whatsoever -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 upon -his adventure. Concluded it was, that every night the Scholler must -come to Supper, partly to bee a witnesse of his constant performance, -but more especially for his owne advantage. - -The place which _Puccio_ had chosen, for his hopefull attaining to the -Philosophers Stone, was close to the Chamber where his daughter lay, -having no other separation or division, but an old ruinous tottring -wall. So that, when the Scholler was playing his prize, _Puccio_ heard -an unwonted noise in the house, which he had never observed before, -neither knew the wall to have 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_ mervailing at this answer, knowing she never gave 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 have 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 have 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 deceived, 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 have care of my selfe. - -To prevent any more of these nightly 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 divers 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 use of -_Puccioes_ folly, and found benefit thereby, to keepe him out of wants, -which is the bane and overthrow of numberlesse good wits. And _Puccio_ -dying, before the date of his limitted time, because hee failed of the -Philosophers Stone, _Isabetta_ joyned 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, gave a Horse to_ Signior Francesco -Vergellisi, _upon condition, that (by his leave 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 Novell. - -_Wherein is described the frailety of some Women, and folly of such -Husbands, as leave them alone to their owne disposition._ - - -_Pamphilus_ having ended the Novell of _Puccio_ the Alchimist, the -Queene fixing her eye on Madam _Eliza_, gave order, that shee should -succeede with hers next. When shee looking somewhat more austerely, -then any of the rest, not in any spleen, but as it was her usuall -manner, thus began. The World containeth some particular people who doe -beleeve (because themselves know something) that others are ignorant in -all things; who for the most part, while they intend to make a scorne -of other men, upon the proofe, doe finde themselves to carry away the -scorne. And therefore I account it no meane follie in them, who (upon -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 perceive 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 upon _Florence_, there lived 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 provident, but gripple, covetous, and too close handed, without -respect to his worth 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, which he knew not by any meanes how -to compasse, so loath he was to lay out money, albeit his credit much -depended thereon. - -At the same time, there lived in _Pistoya_ likewise, a young man, named -_Ricciardo_, derived 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 -advantage 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 loved dearely, for his faire forme, and other good -parts. Upon a flying rumor throughout _Pistoria_, that he daily made -love 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 give it him, in regard of the love he bare to -his Wife. - -The base minded Knight, coveting to have 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 have him of free gift. The -_Magnifico_ hearing his request, was not a little joyfull hereof, and -thus answered; Sir, if you would give 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 upon this condition, -that before you have him delivered, 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 avaricious -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 leaving him in the great Hall of the house, he went to his Wives -Chamber, and told her, how easily he might enjoy the Horse; 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 covetousnesse should -serve as a cloake, to cover any unfitting speeches, which her chaste -eares could never endure to heare: neverthelesse, 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 have (no doubt) a long while since perceived, what -unfained 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 utterly needlesse, to let you understand by words, -how faithfull the love is I beare you, were it not much more fervent -and constant, then ever 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 enjoy 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 love you -perpetually. Whereby you may rest confidently perswaded, that you enjoy -not any thing, how poore or precious soever 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 have, or for ever 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 service, as -consisteth in mine ability to performe, and in your courteous favour -to accept, yea, if it were to travaile 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 adventure (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 servant, 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 divine -beauty enflamed mine affections, even 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 have I -committed, in being so unmercifull to my _Magnifico_. Repentance then -serves to no purpose, but you must answere for such unkinde cruelty. -Wherefore, to prevent 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, hovering and haunting about -your bed; let all these move you to milde mercy, and spill not life, -when you may save it. - -So the _Magnifico_ ceasing, with teares streaming from his eyes, and -sighes breaking from his heart, he sate still in exspectation of -the Ladies answere, who made neither long or short of the matter, -neither Tilts not Tourneying, nor many lost mornings and evenings, -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 love: Moved now in this -very houre, by these solemne protestations, or rather most prevailing -asseverations; she began to finde that in her, which (before) she -never felt, namely Love. And although (to keepe her promise made to -her husband) shee spake not a word: yet her heart heaving, 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 give him any answere at all; he could not -chuse but wonder thereat, yet at length perceived, that it was thus -cunningly contrived by her husband. Notwithstanding, observing 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 motives to advance 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 uttered 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. -Neverthelesse, if heretofore I have seemed cruell and unkinde to thee, -I would not have thee thinke, that my heart was any way guilty of my -outward severity; but did evermore love thee, and held thee dearer then -any man living. 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 just guerdon of thy constant love, which long thou hast, and -still doest beare to me. Wherefore comfort thy selfe, and dwell upon -this undoubted 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 given him thy goodly ambling Gelding, -and so soone as hee is gone, I promise thee upon my word, and by the -faithfull love I beare thee: that I will have further conference with -thee, and let thee understand somewhat more of my minde. And because -this is neither fitting time nor place, to discourse on matters of such -serious moment; observe heereafter, as a signall, when thou seest my -crimson skarfe hanging in the window of my Chamber, which is upon the -Garden side; that evening (so soone as it is night) come to the Garden -gate, with wary respect, that no eye doe discover 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 joy, for this your gracious and welcome -answere; that my sences so fayle mee, and all my faculties quite -forsake me, as I cannot give you such thankes as I would. And if I -could speake equally to my desire, yet the season sutes not therewith, -neither were it convenient that I should be so troublesome to you. Let -me therefore humbly beseech you, that the desire I have to accomplish -your will (which words availe not to expresse) may remaine in your -kinde consideration. And, as you have 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 elsee to -doe, but, under the protection of your gracious pardon, I to give over -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? have I not -kept my promise with thee? No Sir, answered the _Magnifico_, for you -promised I should speake with your wife, and you have made mee talke -to a marble Statue. This answere was greatly pleasing to the Knight, -who, although hee had an undoubted 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 have ensued on the bargaine; -without your motion for the horse, I would have given him you: and I -am sorie that I did not, because now you have bought my horse, and yet -I have not sold him. The Knight laughed heartily at this answere, and -being thus provided of so faire a beast, he rode on his journey to -_Millaine_, and there entred into his authority of _Podesta_. - -The Lady remained now in liberty at home, considering on the -_Magnificoes_ words, and likewise the Gelding, which (for her sake) -was given 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 under her Colours. The -Story saith, that among many of her much better meditations, she was -heard to talke thus idely to herselfe. What doe I meane? Wherefore is -my youth? The olde miserable man is gone to _Millaine_, and God knoweth -when hee comes backe againe, ever, or never. 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. Upon these un-Lady-like private -consultations, whether the window shewed the signall or no; it is no -matter belonging to my charge: I say, husbands are unwise, to graunt -such ill advantages, and wives much worse, if they take hold of them, -onely judge you the best, and so the Tale is ended. - - - - -Ricciardo Minutolo _fell in love with the Wife of_ Philippello -Fighinolfi, _and knowing her to be very jealous of her Husband, gave -her to understand, that he was greatly enamoured of his wife, and had -appointed to meete her privately in a Bathing house, on the next day -following: Where she hoping to take him tardie with his close compacted -Mistresse, found herselfe to be deceived by the said_ Ricciardo. - -The sixth Novell. - -_Declaring, how much perseverance, and a couragious spirit is -availeable in love._ - - -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 -Novelse, who (smilingly) made answere that she would, and began thus. -Gracious Ladies, me thinkes wee have spoken enough already, concerning -our owne Citie, which as it aboundeth copiously in all commodities, -so is it an example also to every convenient purpose. And as Madam -_Eliza_ hath done, by recounting occasions happening in another World, -so must we now leape a little further off, even so farre as _Naples_, -to see how one of those Saint-like Dames, that nicely seemes to shun -Loves 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 error 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 elsee-where, and he -became enamoured of another, which (in generall opinion) surpassed all -the _Neapolitane_ women elsee, in feature, favour, and the choysest -perfections, shee being named Madam _Catulla_, wife to as gallant a -young Gentleman, called _Philippello Fighinolfi_, who most dearely he -loved beyond all other, for her vertue and admired chastity. - -_Ricciardo_ loving this Madam _Catulla_, and using 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 unlikely 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 advised by -some of his best friends, utterly 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 unstayned loyaltie to -her Husband; and yet shee lived in such extreme jealousie of him, as -fearing least some bird flying in the Ayre, should snatch him from her. - -_Ricciardo_ not unacquainted with this her jealous humour, as well -by credible hearing thereof, as also by daily observation; 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 ever enjoying the love of Madam _Catulla_, because he was -now become the servant to another Gentlewoman, pretending (in her -honour) to performe many worthy actions of Armes, Jousts, 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 -love to her was quite changed, and the new elected Lady had all the -glory of his best endeavours, persevering 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) gave 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 used to meete together (according -to a custome long observed 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 love to his new elected -Mistresse: which _Minutolo_ graced with so solemne a countenance, as -it ministred much more matter of conference, all coveting to know what -shee was. - -So farre they walked, and held on this kinde of discoursing, as every -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_ -having few females left with her, stayed behind with _Minutolo_, who -suddenly shot foorth a word, concerning her husband _Philippello_, & -of his loving another woman beside her selfe. She that was overmuch -jealous 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_, even for the -Ladies sake, whose love he had so devoutly embraced, to resolve her -certainely, in this strange alteration of her Husband; whereunto thus -he answered. - -Madam, you have so straitly conjured me, by urging 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, untill you have seene by effect, that which I have -tolde you proveth to be true: and when you please, I will instruct you -how your selfe shall see it. The Lady was not a little joyfull, to be -thus satisfied in her Husbands follie, and constantly crediting his -words to be true, shee sware a solemne oath, that no one alive should -ever know it. So stepping a little further aside, because no listening -eare should heare him, thus he beganne. - -Lady, if I did love you now so effectually, as heretofore I have done, -I should be very circumspect, in uttering 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 beleeved, that I -received any kindnesse from you: but whether it were so or no, I could -never discerne it by any outward apparance. But now awaiting for the -opportunity of time, which he conceived should affoord me the least -suspition; he seekes to compasse that, which (I doubt) he feares I -would have done to him, in plaine termes Madam, to have his pleasure -of my wife. And as by some carriages I have observed, within few dayes -past, he hath solicited and pursued his purpose very secretly, by many -Ambassages, and other meanes, as (indeede) I have learned from her -selfe, and alwayes shee hath returned in such answers, as shee received -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 have with her; and -shee tolde me it was another pursuite of _Philippello Fighinolfi_, -who (quoth shee) upon such answers as you have caused me to send him -from time to time, perhaps doth gather some hope of prevailing in the -ende, which maketh him still to importune me as he doth. And now he -adventureth so farre, as to understand my finall intention, having 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 enjoy 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 frivolous answers; I would (long ere this) have -sent him such a message, as should have 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 perceive, how -well you are rewarded, for the faithfull and loyall love you beare him, -and for which I was even 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) approve 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 themselves, in regard of the heates violence; with which -answere the woman returned very jocondly. Let me now tell you Lady, I -hope you have better opinion of my wit, then any meaning in me, to send -my wife thither; I rather did it to this ende, that having acquainted -you with his treacherous intent, you should supply my wives place, by -saving both his reputation and your owne, and frustrating his unkind -purpose to me. Moreover, upon the view of his owne delusion, wrought by -my wife in meere love to you, he shall see his foule shame, and your -most noble care, to keepe the rites of marriage betweene you still -unstained. - -Madame _Catulla_, having heard this long and unpleasing report; without -any consideration, either what he was that tolde the tale, or what a -treason he intended against her: immediatly (as jealous persons use to -doe) she gave 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 advised her, as being a matter of no -difficulty. But if he came, she would so shame and dishonour him, as no -woman whatsoever 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 -revealing the matter to any living person, as shee had sworne upon 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, giving her to understand the whole businesse, and desiring her to -be favourable 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 arrivall of Madame _Catulla_. On the same day, as she had -heard the speeches of _Ricciardo_, and gave 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 used her so kindly, as he was wont to doe. Which -_Catulla_ perceiving, shee was ten times more suspicious then before, -saying to herselfe. Now apparant trueth doth disclose it selfe, my -husbands head is troubled now with nothing elsee, but _Ricciardoes_ -wife, with whom (to morrow) he purposeth his meeting; wherein he shall -be disappointed, if I live; 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, never disallowed such -meetings of men with their wives, 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 loving manner; yet not daring to speake, least he should know -her, but suffered him to proceede in his owne error. - -Let passe the wanton follies passing betweene them, and come to Madame -_Catulla_, who finding it a fit and convenient 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 love, -of many wives to their husbands? I, a poore miserable Lady, who, for -the space of eight yeares now fully compleated, have loved 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 elsee-where. I am thine owne -_Catulla_, and not the wife of _Ricciardo_, trayterous and unfaithfull -man, as thou art. I am sure thou knowest my voyce, and I thinke it a -thousand yeares, untill wee may see each other in the light, to doe -thee such dishonour as thou justly deserveth, dogged, disdainefull, -and villainous wretch. By conceiving to have another woman in thy -wanton embraces, thou hast declared more joviall 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, devill, and no man? What, have my words -smitten thee dumbe? Thou mayest (with shame enough) hold thy peace, for -with the face of a man, and love 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 -behaviour 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 byas from thy reckoning: for -I shall never imagine my selfe halfe satisfied, untill in the presence -of my parents, friends, and neighbours, I have revealed thy base -behaviour. 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 loveth mee -beyond all other women in _Naples_, and yet could never vaunt, that I -gave 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 -revenge soundly upon thee. - -The exclamations of the Lady were so tedious and irksome, that -_Ricciardo_ perceiving, if she continued longer in these complaints, -worse would ensue thereon, then could be easily remedied: resolved -to make himselfe knowne to her, to reclaime her out of this violent -extasie, and holding her somewhat strictly, to prevent her escaping -from him, he said. Madam, afflict your selfe no further, for, what I -could not obtaine by simply loving you, subtilty hath better taught me, -and I am your _Ricciardo_, which she hearing, and perfectly knowing him -by his voyce; shee would have leapt out of the Bath, but shee could -not, and to avoyde her crying out, he layde his hand on her mouth, -saying. Lady, what is done, cannot now be undone, albeit you cried -out all your lifetime. If you exclaime, or make this knowne openly by -any meanes; two unavoydable 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, -avouching, that having corrupted you with gold, and not giving you -so much as covetously 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 beleeve the worst, then any goodnesse, be it never -so manifest. Next unto 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 live in any true contentment after. Wherefore, -joy 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 deceived. I have not beguiled -you, to take any honour from you, but onely declared, the faithfull -affection I beare you, and so shall doe for ever, as being your bounden -and most obedient servant; and as it is a long time agoe, since I -dedicated my selfe and all mine to your service, so hence-forth must -I remaine for ever. You are wise enough (I know) in all other things; -then shew your selfe not to be silly or simple in this. - -_Ricciardo_ uttered 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 jealous folly had now brought her to, -a shame beyond all other whatsoever: in the midst of her tormenting -passions, she considered on the words of _Ricciardo_, found good reason -in them, in regard of the unavoydable evils, whereupon shee thus -spake. _Ricciardo_, I know not how to beare the horrible injurie, and -notorious treason used by thee against me, grace and goodnesse having -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 -devillish jealousie, did conduct me. But certaine I am of one thing, -that I shall never see any one joyfull day, till (by one meanes or -other) I be revenged on thee. Thou hast glutted thy desire with my -disgrace, let me therefore goe from thee, never more to looke upon my -wronged husband, or let any honest woman ever see my face. - -_Ricciardo_ perceiving the extremity of her perplexed minde, used -all manly and milde perswasions, which possibly he could devise to -doe, to turne the torrent of this high tide, to a calmer course; as -by outward shew shee made apparance of, untill (in frightfull feares -shunning every one shee met withall, as arguments of her guiltinesse) -shee recovered her owne house, where remorse so tortured her distressed -soule, that shee fell into so fierce a melancholy, as never left her -till shee died. Upon the report whereof, _Ricciardo_ becomming likewise -a widdower, and grieving extraordinarily for his haynous transgression, -penitently betooke himselfe to live in a wildernesse, where (not long -after) he ended his dayes. - - - - -Thebaldo Elisei, _having received an unkinde repulse by his beloved, -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 unto her. He delivered her Father from the danger of -death, because it was proved, that he had slaine_ Thebaldo: _he made -peace with his brethren, and in the ende, wisely enjoyed his hearts -desire._ - -The seaventh Novell. - -_Wherein is signified the power of Love, and the diversity of dangers, -whereinto men may daily fall._ - - -So ceased _Fiammetta_ her discourse, being generally commended, when -the Queene, to prevent the losse of time, commanded _Æmillia_ 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, recovered the kindnesse of his Love, after he had lost it. - -Sometime there dwelt in _Florence_ a young gentleman, named _Thebaldo -Elisei_, descended of a noble House, who became earnestly enamored of a -Widdow, called _Hermelina_, the daughter to _Aldobrandino Palermini_: -well deserving, for his vertues and commendable qualities, to enjoy of -her whatsoever he could desire. Secretly they were espoused together, -but Fortune, the enemy to Lovers felicities, opposed her malice -against them, in depriving _Thebaldo_ of those deare delights, which -sometime he held in free possession, and making him as a stranger to -her gracious favours. 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 unkindnesse so wisely to himselfe, -as no one could understand the reason of his sadnesse. - -After he had laboured by all hopefull courses, to obtaine that favour -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 -endeavours 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 unhappinesse. 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 travelled to _Ancona_, -where he termed himselfe by the name of _Sandolescio_. Repairing to a -wealthy Merchant there, he placed himselfe as his servant, and went in -a Ship of his with him to _Cyprus_; his actions and behaviour proved so -pleasing to the Merchant, as not onely he allowed him very sufficient -wages, but also grew into such association with him; as he gave the -most of his affaires into his hands, which he guided with such honest -and discreete care, that he himselfe (in few yeeres compasse) proved 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 love, as coveting (above all things -elsee) 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 love he bare to his Mistresse, and -what delight he conceived, 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 live, except he had a sight of her -once more, and therefore determined on his returne to _Florence_. -Having set all his affaires in due order, accompanied with a servant of -his onely, he passed to _Ancona_, where when he was arrived, he sent -his Merchandises to _Florence_, in name of the Merchant of _Ancona_, -who was his especiall friend and partner; travayling himselfe alone -with his servant, in the habite of a Pilgrime, as if he had beene newly -returned from _Jerusalem_. - -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 up, whereby he suspected her to be dead, or elsee -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 marvelled not a little; -knowing himselfe to be so transfigured, both in body and habite, farre -from the manner of common use at his parting thence, as it was a -difficult matter to know him: he stept boldly to a Shooe-makers shop -neere adjoining, and demanded the reason of their wearing mourning. -The Shoo-maker made answer thus; Sir, those men are clad in mourning, -because a brother of theirs, being named _Thebaldo_ (who hath beene -absent hence a long while) about some fifteene dayes since was slaine. -And they having heard, by proofe made in the Court of Justice, 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 -_Aldobrandino_, for whose misfortune he grieved marvellously. As -concerning his Mistresse, he understood that shee was living, 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 divers persons over 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 -have heard it assuredly, that the death of _Thebaldo Elisei_, hath -beene sufficiently approved by the Brethren, against _Aldobrandino -Palermini_, and he hath confessed the fact; whereupon the sentence is -already set downe in writing. But yet it behoveth us notwithstanding, -to conceale it very secretly, because if ever 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 upon the testimony of as false witnesses) a man most -innocent, making him ready for the stroke of death. Next, he made a -strict observation in his soule, concerning the blinded severity 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 avouched (onely for ease of paine) in the -place of a true confession, yet thinking themselves (by doing so) to be -the Ministers of God and Justice, whereas indeede they are the Divelse -executioners of his wickednesse. Lastly, converting his thoughts to -_Aldobrandino_, the imagined murtherer of a man yet living, infinite -cares beleagured his soule, in devising what might best be done for his -deliverance. - -So soone as he was risen in the morning, leaving his servant 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) moved 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 up 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 Heaven, to convert your teares into rejoycing, and to deliver -your Father from death. How is this? answered shee: If thou be of -_Constantinople_, and art but now arrived here; doest thou know who we -are, either I, or my Father? - -The Pilgrime discoursed to her, even 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 deliver 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 up -Madam, refraine from weeping, and observe attentively what I shall -say; yet with this caution, that you never reveale it to any person -whatsoever. This tribulation whereinto you are falne, (as by revelation -I am faithfully informed) is for a grievous sinne by you heretofore -committed, whereof divine 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 recovery, 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 have 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 have already: but -because in revealing it yourselfe, it may touch you with the more true -compunction of soule; let us 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, beleeving -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 divine ordinativation hath revealed -unto 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 unfortunate young Gentleman, -who (in secret) was my Husband, and whose death is imposed on my -Father. The death of him I have the more bemoaned, because (in reason) -it did neerely concerne me, by shewing my selfe so savage and rigorous -to him before his departure: neverthelesse, let me assure you Sir, that -neither his parting, long absence from me, or his untimely death, never -had the power to bereave my heart of his remembrance. - -Madame, saide the Pilgrime, the unfortunate young Gentleman that is -slaine, did never love you; but sure I am, that _Thebaldo Elisei_ loved -you dearely. But tell me, what was the occasion whereby you conceived -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 revealed (under -confession) how faithfully I affected him, and what private familiarity -had passed betweene us. When instantly he used such dreadfull -threatnings to me, and which (even yet) doe afflict my soule, that if -I did not abstaine, and utterly refuse him, the Divell would fetch me -quicke to Hell, and cast me into the bottome of his quenchlesse and -everlasting fire. - -These menaces were so prevailing with me, as I refused all further -conversation with _Thebaldo_, in which regard, I would receive 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, even 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 allowed -me one merry day, neither did I, or ever can love any man like unto him. - -At these wordes the Pilgrime sighed, and then proceeded on againe thus. -Surely Madam, this one onely sin, may justly torment you, because I -know for a certainty, that _Thebaldo_ never offered you any injury, -since the day he first became enamoured of you; and what grace or -favour you affoorded him, was your owne voluntary gift, and (as he -tooke it) no more then in modesty might well become you; for he loving -you first, you had beene most cruell and unkinde, if you should not -have requited him with the like affection. If then he continued so -just and loyall to you, as (of mine owne knowledge) I am able to say -he did; what should move you to repulse him so rudely? Such matters -ought well to be considered on before hand; for if you did imagine, -that you should repente 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 -unfitting thing for you to doe, except you had gone with his consent? - -Now Madam, let me further give you to understand, 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 unseeming for me to doe -it, as it would appeare ugly 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 have done. In -former passed times such as professed Religion, were learned and most -holy persons; but our religious professours now adayes, and such as -covet to be so esteemed; have 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 -devotion, 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 have their pride more -notoriously observed. And as the Angler bestoweth his best cunning, -with one line and baite to catch many fishes at one strike; even so -do these counterfeited habite-mongers, by their dissembling and crafty -dealing, beguile many credulous widowes, simple women, yea, and men of -weake capacity, to credit whatsoever they doe or say, and herein they -doe most of all excercise themselves. - -And to the end, that my speeches may not savour of any untruth against -them; these men which I speake of, have 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 salvation of mens -soules; these fresher witted fellowes, covet after women & wealth, and -employ all their paines by their whispering confessions, and figures -of painted feareful examples, to affright and terrifie unsetled 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 devotion, then any true -compunction of heart, to escape severe penances by them enjoyned: 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 prevailing meanes, to appease heavens anger for some sinnes -committed; but if such as bestow them, did either see or know, to whom -they give them: they would more warily keepe them, or elsee cast them -before Swine, in regard they are altogether so unworthy of them. But -come we now to the case of your ghostly father, crying out in your -eare, that secret mariage was a most greevous sinne: Is not the breach -thereof farre greater. Familiar conversation betweene man and woman, -is a concession meerely naturall: but to rob, kill, or banish anyone, -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 gave 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 whosoever 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 seaven yeares -in exile thorow the world; you cannot denie, but that you were the -onely occasion thereof. In all which three severall actions, farre more -capitally have you offended; then by contracting of mariage in such -clandestine manner. - -But let us see, whether _Thebaldo_ deserved all these severall -castigations, or not. In trueth he did not, your selfe have confessed -(beside that which I know) that hee loved you more dearely then -himselfe, and nothing could be more honoured, magnified and exalted, -then dayly you were by him, above all other women whatsoever. 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, envying 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, understanding truly what they are, and what nobility of -nature God hath endued man withall, farre above 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 divine Justice (which in an equal -ballance bringeth all operations to their full effect) did purpose not -to leave unpunished; but, as you enforced against all reason, to take -away _Thebaldo_ from your selfe: even so your Father _Aldobrandino_, -without any occasion given by _Thebaldo_, is in perill of his life, -and you a partaker of his tribulation. Out of which if you desire to -be delivered, it is very convenient 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 love, grace, and good acceptation; accounting -him in the selfe same degree of favour and private entertainement, as -he was at the first, before your wicked ghostly father so hellishly -incensed you against him. - -When the Pilgrime had finished his speeches, the Gentlewoman, who had -listened to them very attentively (because all the alleaged 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 undoubtedly, that the words which you -have spoken are true, and also I understand by your demonstration, what -manner of people some of those religious persons are, whom heretofore I -have reputed to be Saints, but find them now to be far otherwise. And -to speake truly, I perceive the fault to be great and grievous, wherein -I have offended against _Thebaldo_, and would (if I could) willingly -make amends, even in such manner as you have advised. 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 revelations as have beene shewne to me, I know for a -certainety, that _Thebaldo_ is not dead, but living, in health, and -in good estate; if he had the fruition of your grace and favour. Take -heede what you say Sir (quoth the Gentlewoman) for I saw him lie -slaine before my doore, his body having received 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. -Beleeve me Madam, (replied the Pilgrime) say what you will, I dare -assure you that _Thebaldo_ is living, and if you dare make promise, -concerning what hath beene formerly requested, and keepe it inviolably; -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 never could any thing happen, to yeeld me the like -contentment, as to see my Father free from danger, and _Thebaldo_ -living. - -At this instant _Thebaldo_ thought it to be a very apt and convenient -time to disclose himselfe, and to comfort the Lady, with an assured -signall of hope, for the deliverance 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 ever being revealed to the world. They were then in -a place of sufficient privacy, and alone by themselves, 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 gave him, the last night of their conversing -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 gave it unto _Thebaldo_. - -Hereupon the Pilgrime stood up, and suddenly putting off his poore -linnen Frocke, as also the Hood from his head; using then his -_Florentine_ tongue, he saide. Then tell me Madam, doe you not know -me? When shee had advisedly beheld him, and knew him indeede to be -_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 grave, and came thither purposely to affright her; wherefore he -saide. Be not afraide Madam, I am your _Thebaldo_, in health, alive, -and never as yet died, neither have I received any wounds to kill mee, -as you and my bretheren have 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 avouched 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; _Thebaldo_, -my true and faithfull Husband, nothing in the World can be so welcome -to me. _Thebaldo_ having most kindly kissed and embraced her, said; -Sweete wife, time will not now allow us those ceremonious curtesies, -which (indeede) so long a separation doe justly challenge; but I must -about a more weightie businesse, to have your Father safe and soundly -delivered, 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 will 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 pensive, -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 favour, -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 Heaven -hath sent to doe thee good, in meere pitty and compassion of thine -innocency. And therefore, if thou wilt grant me one small request, -which I am earnestly to crave 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 -ever 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 -never committed the sinfull deede, for which I am condemned to death. -Most true it is, I have other heynous and grievous sinnes, which -(undoubtedly) have throwne this heavy judgement upon me, and therefore -I am the more willing to undergoe it. Neverthelesse, 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 whatsoever thou pleasest of me, for unfainedly (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 have 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, upon their craving pardon for what they have done. Sir, -answered _Aldobrandino_, no man knoweth how sweete revenge 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 -Heaven; I freelie forgive them, and henceforth pardon them for ever; -intending moreover, that if mercy give me life, and cleere me from this -bloody imputation, to love and respect them so long as I shall live. -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 deliverance. - -At his departing from him, he went directly to the _Signoria_, and -prevailed so farre, that he spake privately 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 have committed no -foule offence, should not be punished, but onely the guilty and haynous -transgressors. And because it will be no meane honour to you, to lay -the blame where it worthily deserveth; I am come hither purposely, to -informe you in a case of most weighty importance. It is not unknowne 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_, whereupon your law hath condemned him to dye. I -dare assure you Sir, that a very unjust course hath beene taken in this -case, because _Aldobrandino_ is falsly accused, as you your selfe will -confesse before midnight, when they are delivered into your power, that -were the murderers of the man. - -The honest Knight, who was very sorrowfull for _Aldobrandino_, gladly -gave attention to the Pilgrime, and having conferred on many matters, -appertaining to the fact committed: the two brethren, who were -_Thebaldoes_ Hostes, and their Chamber-mayd, upon good advise given, -were apprehended in their first sleepe, without any resistance made -in their defence. But when the tortures were sent for, to understand -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, upon what occasion they did so foule an -act. They answered, that they were so hatefull against the mans life, -because he would luxuriously have abused one of their wives, when they -both were absent from their owne home. - -When the Pilgrime had heard this their voluntary confession, hee tooke -his leave 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 Love, be of good cheare, -for (upon my word) to morrow you shall have your father home safe, -well, and delivered 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 joyfull, for two such -suddaine and succesfull accidents to enjoy her husband alive and in -health, and also to have her father freed from so great a danger; -kissed and embraced him most affectionately, welcomming him lovingly -into her bed, whereto so long time he had beene a stranger. - -No sooner did bright day appeare, but _Thebaldo_ arose, having -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 convenient opportunity, for attending on the businesse belonging -to _Aldobrandino_. At the usuall houre appointed, the Lords were all -set in the _Signioria_, and had received 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 joy 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, using him with -most honourable and gracious respect; but especially _Hermelina_, who -knew (better then the rest) on whom shee bestowed her liberall favours, -yet concealing all closely to her selfe. - -After two or three dayes were over-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 deliverance, 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 unto him. -_Aldobrandino_ lovingly replied, that he was ready to make good his -word. Whereupon, the Pilgrime provided a goodly Banquet, whereat he -purposed to have present, _Aldobrandino_, his daughter, kindred, and -their wives. But first, himselfe would goe in person, to invite them -in peace to his Banquet, to performe this desired pacification, and -conferred with his brethren, using 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 prevailing with them, that they -willingly condiscended, and thought it no disparagement to them, for -the recoverie of _Aldobrandinoes_ kindnesse againe, to crave 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 -wives and friends, came first to the house of _Aldobrandino_, who -purposely attended for them, and having layd downe their weapons on -the ground: in the presence of all such, as _Aldobrandino_ had invited -as his witnesses, they offered themselves to his mercy, and humbly -required pardon of him, for the matter wherein they had offended him. -_Aldobrandino_, shedding teares, most lovingly embraced them, and (to -bee briefe) pardon whatsoever injuries he had received. After this, -the sisters and wives, all clad in mourning, courteously submitted -themselves, and were graciously welcommed by Madame _Hermelina_, as -also divers 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 elsee deserved 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 perceived, to be the onely disgrace to him and his -feast. Wherefore, as before hee had resolved, when time served 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, or more debarres -it of the honour it might elsee have, but onely the presence of -_Thebaldo_, who having 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, uncasing 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 perceiving, 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 elsee there present, every -one hugging and embracing him, yea, many beside, who were no kin at -all to him, _Hermelina_ onely excepted, which when _Aldobrandino_ saw, -he said unto her. How now _Hermelina_? Why doest thou not welcome home -_Thebaldo_, so kindely as all here elsee have done? - -She making a modest courtesie to her Father, and answering so loude as -every one might heare her, said. There is not any in this assembly, -that more willingly would give him all expression of a joyfull welcom -home, and thankfull gratitude for such especiall favours received, 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 deliverance, hee hath approved -them to be manifest liers, albeit I my selfe did never credit them. Goe -then I command thee, and let me see thee both kisse and embrace him. -She who desired 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 unfeigned love to _Thebaldo_. These bountifull favours -of _Aldobrandino_, were joyfully accepted by _Thebaldoes_ brethren, -as also every one elsee there present in company; so that all former -rancour and hatred, which had caused heavy variances betweene them, was -now converted to mutuall kindnesse, and solemne friendship on every -side. - -When the feasting dayes were finished, the garments of sad mourning -were quite layde aside, and those, becomming so generall a joy, 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 conceived, and having slaine him, layde 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 love -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, untill hee plainely approved 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 -Grave, and put into a darke prison, where they made him beleeve, 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 Novell. - -_Wherein is displayed, the apparant folly of jealousie: And the -subtilty of some religious carnall minded men, to beguile silly and -simple maried men._ - - -When the long discourse of Madame _Æmilia_ 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 -_Lauretta_, giving 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 alive. In which respect, I am now to -let you know, how a living man was buried for dead, and being raised -againe, yet not as living, himselfe, and divers more beside, did -beleeve that he came forth of his grave, and adored him as a Saint, who -was the occasion thereof, and who (as a bad man) deserved justly 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 elsee, -save 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 understanding, yet he fell into great familiarity -with the Abbot; who made use of this friendly conversation to no other -end, but for divers times of recreation; when he delighted to smile at -his silly and sottish behaviour. - -Upon this his private frequentation with the Abbot, at last he -observed, that _Ferando_ had a very beautifull woman to his wife, -with whom he grew so deepely in love, as hee had no other meditations -either by day or night, but how to become acceptable in her favour. -Neverthelesse, he concealed his amorous passions privately to himselfe, -and could plainely perceive, that although Ferando (in all things -elsee) was meerely a simple fellow, and more like an Idiot, then of -any sensible apprehension: yet was he wise enough in loving his wife, -keeping her carefully out of all company, as one (indeede) very -jealous, least any should kisse her, but onely himselfe, which drove -the Abbot into despaire, for ever 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 divers 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 mervailous -civill 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 favour, and therefore he gave 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 elsee, thus she began: Sacred Father, if God -had not given me such an husband as I have, or elsee had bestowed on me -none at all; I might have beene so happy, by the meanes of your holy -doctrine, very easily to have entred into the way, whereof 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 upon his folly -withall; I may well terme my selfe to be a widdow, although I am a -maried wife, because while he liveth, I cannot have any other husband. -And yet (as sottish as you see him) he is (without any occasion given -him) so extreamely jealous of me; as I am not able to live 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 -advise and counsell, because, if thereby I cannot attaine to a more -pleasing kinde of happinesse; neither confession, or any thing elsee, 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 use -of common understanding; but yet subject to a more hellish affliction -then all these, namely jealousie, and therefore you being in this wofull -manner tormented, your tribulations are not only so much the more -credited, but also as amply grieved for, & pittied. In which heavy and -irksome 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 -jealousie; which medicine is very familiar to me, because I know best -how to compound it, alwayes provided, that you can be of so strong a -capacity, as to be secret in what I shall say unto you. - -Good Father (answered the Woman) never make you any doubt thereof, for -I would rather endure death it selfe, then disclose any thing which -you enjoyne 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 have him perfectly cured, of a disease so dangerous and -offensive, of necessity he must be sent into Purgatory. How may that be -done, saide the woman, he being alive? 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 jealousie, we have -certaine devoute and zealous prayers, whereby to bring him backe againe -to life, in as able manner as ever 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 heavens will therewith be highly offended: -but _Ferando_ being returned to life againe, you must repossesse him -as your Husband, but never to be jealous any more. Alas Sir (quoth the -woman) so that he may be cured of his wicked jealousie, and I no longer -live 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 have done it? Father, saide shee, whatsoever 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, even 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 love, and the kinde embracing of your person; -because so violent are mine affections, as I pine and consume away -daily, till I enjoy 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 -have you made to me? I beleeved very faithfully, that you were no -lesse then a Saint, and is it convenient, that when silly women come -to aske counsell of such sanctified men, they should returne them such -unfitting answeres? Be not amazed good woman, saide the Abbot, at the -motion which I have made unto you, because holinesse is not thereby -impaired a jot in me; for it is the inhabitant of the soule, the other -is an imperfection attending on the body: but be it whatsoever, your -beauty hath so powerfully prevailed on me, that entire love hath -compelled me to let you know it. And more may you boast of your beauty, -then any that ever I beheld before, considering, it is so pleasing to -a sanctified man, that it can draw him from divine contemplations, to -regard a matter of so humble an equalitie. - -Let me tell you moreover, woorthy Woman, that you see me reverenced -here as Lord Abbot, yet am I but as other men are, and in regard I am -neither aged, nor misshapen, me thinkes the motion I have made, should -be the lesse offensive 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 privy to our close -meetings, for I carrie the same holy opinion among all men, as you -your selfe conceived of me, and none dare be so saucie, as to call -in question whatsoever 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 enjoy 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 Jewelse, which shall be all yours, if you please in favour -to be mine; wherein I will not be gaine-saide, except your selfe doe -denie me. - -The Woman having 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 over-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 never ceased, but allured her still to beleeve -whatsoever 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, untill _Ferando_ were first sent into Purgatory. And till then -(quoth the Abbot) I will not urge any more, because I purpose his -speedy sending thither: but yet, so farre lend me your assistance, that -either to morrow, or elsee the next day, he may come hither once more -to converse with me. So putting a faire gold Ring on her finger, they -parted till their next meeting. - -Not a little joyfull was the Woman of so rich a gift, hoping to enjoy -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 never was without -a certaine kinde of drugge, which being beaten into powder, would worke -so powerfully upon the braine, and all the other vitall sences, as to -entrance them with a deadly sleepe, and deprive them of all motion, -either in the pulses, or any other part elsee, even as if the body -were dead indeede; in which operation it would so hold and continue, -according to the quantity given 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 upon his Novices, -sending them into Purgatory when he pleased, and by such punishments as -he inflicted on them there, made them (like credulous asses) beleeve -whatsoever himselfe listed. - -So much of this powder had the Abbot provided, as should suffice for -three dayes entrauncing, and having compounded it with a very pleasant -Wine, calling _Ferando_ into his Chamber, there gave it him to drinke, -and afterward walked with him about the Cloyster, in very friendly -conference together, the silly sot never dreaming on the treachery -intended against him. Many Monkes beside were recreating themselves -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 revive him againe; alleaging -that some fume or vapour in the stomacke, had thus over-awed his -understanding faculties, and quite deprived 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 used such -perswasions to the Monkes, that they all beleeved 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 under a -Tombe, such as there are used in stead of Graves; 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 never 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 unto her. - -From the City of _Bologna_, that very instant day, a well staide and -governed Monke there arrived, 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 darke dungeon or prison, which he termed by the -name of Purgatory, and where hee used to discipline his Monkes, when -they had committed any notorious offence, deserving to be punished -in Purgatory. There they tooke off his usuall wearing garments, and -cloathed him in the habite of a Monke, even as if he had beene one of -the house; and laying him on a bundle of straw, so left him untill -his sences should be restored againe. On the day following, late in -the evening, 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 pensive, which by his wonted -perswasions, indifferently he appeased; challenging the benefit of her -promise. Shee being thus alone, not hindered by her Husbands jealousie, -and espying another goodly gold Ring on his finger, how frailety -and folly over-ruled her, I know not, shee was a weake woman, he a -divelish deluding man; and the strongest holdes by over-long battery -and besieging, must needes yeeld at the last, as I feare shee did: for -very often afterward, the Abbot used in this manner to visit her, and -the simple ignorant Countrey people, carrying no such ill opinion of -the holy Abbot, and having 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 just pennance for his jealousie. - -When _Ferandoes_ sences were recovered 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 elsee, 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 have Masses -devoutly 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_ having 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 loving Wife, long mayest thou live for -this extraordinary kindnesse. I promise thee (sweete heart) while I -was alive, I cannot remember, that ever 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, using her so villainously -in thy life time? Then did he whip him more fiercely then before, -when _Ferando_ holding up his hands, as craving for mercy, demanded -wherefore he was so severely punished? I am so commanded (quoth -the Monke) by supreme power, and twice every day must thou be thus -disciplinde. Upon what occasion? replyed _Ferando_. Because (quoth the -Monke) thou wast most notoriously jealous 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 over-much jealous of -her indeede: but had I knowne, that jealousie was such a hatefull sinne -against Heaven, I never would have offended therein. - -Now (quoth the Monke) thou canst confesse thine owne wilfull follie, -but this should have beene thought on before, and whilest thou wast -living in the World. But if the Fates vouchsafe to favour 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 -jealousie. I pray you Sir tell me, replyed _Ferando_, after men are -dead, and put into Purgatory, is there any hope of their ever 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 ever lived, and never more be jealous, never -wrong so good a Wife, nor ever use one unkind word against her. In the -meane while, and till their anger may be qualified; when next my Wife -doth send me foode, I pray you worke so much, that some Candles may be -sent me also, because I live here in uncomfortable darknesse; and what -should I doe with foode, if I have no light. Shee sends Lights enow, -answered the Monke, but they are burnt out on the Altar in Masse-time, -and thou canst have 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 served -a very jealous Master; and because I soothed him in his jealousie, -I had this pennance imposed on me, to serve thee here in Purgatory -with meate and drinke, and (twice every day) to discipline thy body, -untill the Fates have 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 us. But how farre, saide -_Ferando_, is Purgatory distant from our native Countries? About some -fifty thousand leagues, answered the Monke; but yet passable in a -moment, whensoever 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 conversion; and becomming a new man, hating to be jealous any -more hereafter. - -In these and such like speeches, as thus they beguiled the time, so did -they observe 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 proved -to be conceived with childe, and the time was drawing on for her -deliverance. 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 inconveniences, it -was now thought high time, that _Ferando_ should be sent to the world -againe, and set free from the paines of Purgatory, as having payed for -his jealousie 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 -live in the world againe. Thou didst leave thy wife newly conceived -with childe, and this very morning she is delivered of a goodly Sonne, -whom thou shalt cause to be named _Bennet_: because, by the incessant -prayers of the holy Abbot, thine owne loving wife, and for sweet Saint -_Bennets_ sake, this grace and favour is afforded thee. _Ferando_ -hearing this, was exceeding joyfull, and returned this answere: -For ever honoured be the Fates, the holy Lord Abbot, blessed Saint -_Bennet_, and my most dearely beloved wife, whom I will faithfully love -for ever, and never more offend her by any jealousie in me. - -When the next foode was sent to _Ferando_, so much of the powder -was mingled with the wine, as would serve 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_, conveying and laying him in the same vault under -the Tombe, where at the first they gave him buriall. The next morning -following, about the breake of day, _Ferando_ recovered his sences, and -thorow divers chinkes and crannies of the Tombe, descried day-light, -which hee had not seene in tenne moneths space before. Perceiving then -plainely, that he was alive, he cried out aloude, saying: Open, open, -and let mee forth of Purgatory, for I have beene heere long enough in -conscience. Thrusting up his head against the cover 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 upon his feete: at which instant -time, the Monks having 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 -Novices (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 have pleased to shew in our -Convent, 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 heaven, and endured such strict discipline -twice everie day: stood in a gastly amazement by the Tombes side, as -not daring to adventure any further, or knowing perfectly, whether -he was (as yet) truly alive, 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 feete, saying. -Holy Father, by your zealous prayers (as hath bin miraculously -revealed to me) and the prayers of blessed S. _Bennet_; as also of my -honest, deare, and loving Wife, I have bin delivered from the paines -of Purgatory, and brought againe to live in this world; for which -unspeakable grace and favour, most humbly I thank the well-pleased -Fates, S. _Bennet_, your Father-hood, and my kinde Wife, and will -remember all your loves to me for ever. 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 have bin so gracious to thee; Go -(I say) home to thine owne house, and comfort thy kind wife, who ever -since thy departure out of this life, hath lived in continuall mourning, -love, cherish, and make much of her, never afflicting her henceforth -with causlesse jealousie. No I warrant you good Father, replyed -_Ferando_; I have 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 loving wife, or any other. - -The Abbot causing _Miserere_ to be devoutly 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 severall names, telling -them, that hee was newly risen out of his grave, and was a man as he -had bin before. Then they began to touch and feele him, growing into -more certaine assurance of him, perceiving him to be a living 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 -(neverthelesse) they beleeved. - -Then he told them what the miraculous voice had said unto 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 jealousie. - - - - -Juliet of Narbona, _cured the King of France of a daungerous Fistula, -in recompence whereof, she requested to enjoy as her husband in -marriage,_ Bertrand _the Count of_ Roussillion. _Hee having married her -against his will, as utterly despising her, went to Florence, where he -made love to a young Gentlewoman._ Juliet, _by a queint and cunning -policy, compassed the meanes (insted of his chosen new friend) to lye -with her owne husband, by whom shee conceived, and had two Sonnes; -which being afterward made knowne unto Count_ Bertrand, _he accepted -her into his favour again, and loved her as his loyall and honourable -wife._ - -The Ninth Novell. - -_Commending the good judgement and understanding in Ladies or -Gentlewomen, that are of a quicke and apprehensive spirit._ - - -Now there remained no more (to preserve the priviledge granted to -_Dioneus_ uninfringed) but the Queene onely, to declare her Novell. -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 liking, -having heard the rare and wittie discourse of Madame _Lauretta_? -Beleeve me, it was verie advantageable to us all, that she was not this -dayes first beginner, because few or none would have had any courage to -follow after her, & therefore the rest yet remaining, are the more to -be feared and suspected. Neverthelesse, to avoid the breach of order, -and to claime no priviledge by my place, of not performing what I ought -to do: prove as it may, a Tale you must have, and thus I proceed. - -There lived 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 _Juliet_; who, even in these tender -yeares, fixed her affection upon 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 under his royall custodie and -protection, to the no little discomfort of yong _Juliet_, who became -greevously 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 journey 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 behaviour, as she could not -compasse any meanes of escaping. Her yeeres made her now almost fit for -marriage, which so much more encreased her love 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, whereby her affections -were the more violently enflamed, as fearing least some other should be -preferred before her, & so her hopes be utterly 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 convenient 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 drove it to more vehement -extreamitie, compelling the King, as dispairing utterly of all helpe, -to give over any further counsell or advice. Heereof faire _Juliet_ was -wondrously joyful, as hoping that this accident would prove the meanes, -not only of hir journey 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 up 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 having reduced hir compound into a powder, away she rode -forthwith to Paris. - -Being there arrived, all other serious matters set aside, first shee -must needs have 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 Majesty, to vouchsafe her the -sight of his Fistula. When the King saw her, her modest lookes did -plainly deliver, 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 heaven) 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 -unthankefull for thy forward willingnesse: but I am fully determined, -to use no more counsell, or to make any further triall of Physicke or -Chirurgery. Whereto faire _Juliet_ 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 undertake the ministering -thereof, as depending on mine owne knowledge; but by the gracious -assistance of heaven, & some rules of skilfull observation, which I -learned of reverend _Gerard_ of _Narbona_, who was my worthy Father, -and a Physitian of no meane fame, all the while he lived. - -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 heaven, 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 resolved 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? Whatsoever 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 within eight daies, let a good fire be made, and -therein consume my bodie unto ashes. But if I accomplish the cure, and -set your Highnesse free from all further greevance, what recompence -then shall 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 unmarried, if thou keepe promise, and I finde -my selfe to be fully cured: I will match thee with some such Gentleman -in marriage, as shal be of honourable and worthy reputation, with a -sufficient dowry beside. My gracious Soveraigne saide she, willing am -I, and most heartily thankful withall, that your Highnesse shal bestow -me in marriage: but I desire then, to have such a husband, as I shal -desire or demand by your gracious favour, without presuming to crave -any of your Sonnes, Kindred, or Alliance, or appertaining unto your -Royall blood. Whereto the King gladly granted. Young _Juliet_ began to -minister her Physicke, and within fewer dayes then her limited time, -the King was sound and perfectly cured; which when he perceyved, hee -sayd unto her. Trust me vertuous Mayde, most woorthily hast thou wonne -a Husband, name him, and thou shalt have him. Royall King (quoth she) -then have I won the Count _Bertrand_ of _Roussillion_, whom I have -most entirely loved 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 unknowne to us, 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 enjoy a Wife, -which we intend to bestow upon 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 Heaven) -hath beene the meanes to save my life. Well did the Count know her, as -having 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 give me a Quacksalver 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 -have us breake our faith; which for the recovery of our health, wee -have given to this vertuous virgin, and shee will have 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 -Subject, and any where elsee 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 ever give consent thereto. - -Sir, saide the King, it is our will that it shall be so, vertuous she -is, faire and wise; she loveth 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) received his wife -at the Kings hand; she loving him deerely as her owne life. When all -was done, the Count requested of the King, that what elsee remained -for further solemnization of the marriage, it might be performed in -his owne Countrey, reserving to himselfe what elsee he intended. Being -mounted on horseback, and humbly taking their leave 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 service. - -The poore forsaken new married Countesse, could scarsely be pleased -with such dishonourable unkindnes, yet governing 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 received her very lovingly. Now, by reason of the Counts so long -absence, all things were there farre out of order; mutinies, quarrelse, -and civill dissentions, having procured many dissolute irruptions, -to the expence of much blood in many places. But shee, like a jolly -stirring Lady, very wise and provident in such disturbances, reduced -all occasions to such civility againe, that the people admired her rare -behaviour, and condemned the Count for his unkindnesse 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 understand, that if in displeasure -to her, hee was thus become a stranger to his owne countrey: upon -the return of his answer, to give 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 have no determination to dwel -with her, or neere where she is. Tell her from me, when she shall have -this Ring, which you behold heere on my finger, and a sonne in her -armes begotten by me; then will I come live with her, and be her love. -The Ring he made most precious and deere account of, and never 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 -favour elsee to be derived from him; sorrowfully returned backe to -their Ladie, and acquainted her with this unkinde answer, as also his -unalterable determination, which wel you may conceive, must needs be -verie unwelcome to her. - -After she had an indifferent while considered with her selfe, her -resolution became so undauntable; that she would adventure to practise -such meanes, whereby to compasse those two apparant impossibilities, -and so to enjoy the love of her husband. Having absolutely concluded -what was to be done, she assembled all the cheefest men of the country, -revealing unto them (in mournfull manner) what an attempt she had made -already, in hope of recovering her husbands favour, and what a rude -answer was thereon returned. In the end, she told them, that it did -not sute with her unworthinesse, to make the Count live as an exile -from his owne inheritance, upon no other inducement, but only in regard -of her: wherefore, she had determined betweene heaven and her soule, -to spend the remainder of her dayes in Pilgrimages and prayers, for -preservation of the Counts soule and her owne; earnestly desiring them, -to undertake the charge and government of the Countrey, and signifying -unto the Count, how she had forsaken his house, and purposed to wander -so far thence, that never would she visite _Roussillion_ any more. In -the deliverie of these words, the Lords and gentlemen wept and sighed -extraordinarily, using many earnest imprecations to alter this resolve -in her, but all was in vaine. - -Having 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 Jewelse, -to avoide all wants which might befall her in travaile; not acquainting -any one whether she went. In no place stayed she, untill she was -arrived 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 he was a stranger there, yet a Nobleman, -called Count _Bertrand_ of _Roussillion_, a verie courteous Knight, -beloved and much respected in the City. Moreover, that he was farre in -love with a neighbour of hers, a yong Gentlewoman, but verie poore and -meane in substance, yet of honest life, vertuous, and never taxed with -any evill report: onely her povertie was the maine imbarment of her -marriage, dwelling in house with her mother, who was a wise, honest, -and worthy Lady. - -The Countesse having wel observed her words, and considered thereon -from point to point; debated soberly with her owne thoughts, in such a -doubtfull case what was best to be done. When she had understood which -was the house, the ancient Ladies name, and likewise her daughters, to -whom her husband was now so affectionately devoted; she made choise -of a fit and convenient 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 giving 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 beleeve 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 -have now need (good Madame) both of your trust and fidelity, whereon -if I should rely, and you faile me, it will be your owne undooing as -well as mine. Speake then boldly, replied the olde Ladie, and remaine -constantly assured, that you shall no way be deceived by me. Heereupon, -the Countesse declared the whole course of her love, from the verie -originall to the instant, revealing also what she was, and the occasion -of her comming thither, relating every thing so perfectly, that the -Ladie verily beleeved her, by some reports which she had formerly -heard, and which mooved her the more to compassion. Now, when all -circumstances were at full discovered, 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 have, -all hope is quite frustrate for ever, 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 have heard, and you can therein best resolve mee. -Since my comming to this City, it hath credibly bene told me, that the -Count my husband, is deeply in love with your daughter. If the Count -(quoth the Ladie) love my daughter, and have a wife of his owne, he -must thinke, and so shall surely finde it, that his greatnesse is no -priviledge for him, whereby to worke dishonour upon her poverty. 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 whatsoever 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 poverty as at high a rate, as he can do the pride -of his honour. - -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 have heard) onely by lack of a -competent dowry. Wherefore Madame, in recompence of the favour 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 honour. Poverty made the -poore Lady, very well to like of such a bountifull offer, and having -a noble heart she said: Great Countesse say, wherein am I able to do -you any service, as can deserve such a gracious offer? If the action -bee honest, without blame or scandall to my poore, yet undejected -reputation, gladly I will do it; and it being accomplished, let the -requitall rest in your owne noble nature. - -Observe me then Madam, replyed the Countesse. It is most convenient for -my purpose, that by some trusty and faithfull messenger, you should -advertise the Count my husband, that your daughter is, and shall be at -his command: but because she may remain absolutely assured, that his -love is constant to her, and above all other: shee must entreate him, -to send her (as a testimony thereof) the Ring which he weareth upon -his little finger, albeit she hath heard, that he loveth it dearly. -If he send the Ring, you shal give 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 favour -mee, that (unknowne to him) I may conceive with childe. Uppon which -good successe, when time shall serve, having the Ring on my finger, -and a child in my armes begotten by him, his love and liking may bee -recovered, and (by your meanes) I continue with my Husband, as everie -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: -Neverthelesse, considering, what an honest office it was in her, to bee -the meanes, whereby so worthy a Countesse should recover an unkinde -husband, led altogether by lust, and not a jot of cordiall love; she -knew the intent to be honest, the Countesse vertuous, and her promise -religious, and therefore undertooke to effect it. Within few dayes -after, verie ingeniously, and according to the instructed order, -the Ring was obtained, albeit much against the Counts will; and the -Countesse, in sted of the Ladies vertuous daughter, was embraced by him -in bed: the houre proving so auspicious, and _Juno_ being Lady of the -ascendent, conjoyned with the witty _Mercury_, she conceived of two -goodly Sonnes, and her deliverance agreed correspondently with the just -time. - -Thus the old Lady, not at this time only, but at many other meetings -beside; gave the Countesse free possession of her husbands pleasures, -yet alwayes in such darke and concealed secrecie, as it was never -suspected, nor knowne by any but themselves, the Count lying with his -owne wife, and disappointed of her whom he more deerely loved. Alwayes -at his uprising in the mornings (which usually was before the breake -of day, for preventing the least scruple of suspition) many familiar -conferences passed betweene them, with the gifts of divers faire and -costly Jewelse; all which the Countesse carefully kept, and perceiving -assuredly, that shee was conceived 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 give thankes to heaven and you, -because my desires are amply accomplished, and both time and your -deserts doe justly 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 give you by way of -reward, because that would seeme to bee base and mercenary: but onely -whatsoever you shall receive of me, is in honourable recompence of -faire & vertuous deservings, such as any honest and well-minded Lady in -the like distresse, may with good credit allow, and yet no prejudice to -her reputation. - -Although poverty might well have 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 uttered too; yet the Countesse gave hir -five hundred pounds, beside so many rich and costly Jewelse, 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 avoide the Counts repairing -to her house any more, departed thence sodainly with her daughter, to -divers friends of hers that dwelt in the Country, whereat the Count -was much discontented; albeit afterward, he did never 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 having heard of his wives absence, went to _Roussillion_ so much the -more willingly. And the Countesse knowing her husbands departure from -_Florence_, as also his safe arrivall at his owne dwelling, remained -still in _Florence_, untill the time of her deliverance, which was -of two goodly Sonnes, lively resembling the lookes of their Father, -and all the perfect lineaments of his body. Perswade your selves, she -was not a little carefull of their nursing; and when she saw the time -answerable to her determination, she tooke her journey (unknowne to -any) and arrived with them at _Montpellier_, where shee rested her -selfe for divers dayes, after so long and wearisome a journey. - -Upon the day of all Saints, the Count kept a solemne Festivall, for the -assembly of his Lords, Knights, Ladies, and Gentlewomen: uppon which -Joviall day of generall rejoycing, the Countesse attired in her wonted -Pilgrimes weed, repaired thither, entering into the great Hall, where -the Tables were readily covered for dinner. Preassing thorough the -throng of people, with her two children in her armes, she presumed unto -the place where the Count sate, & falling on her knees before him, the -teares trickling abundantly downe her cheekes, thus she spake. Worthy -Lord, I am thy poor, despised, and unfortunate wife; who, that thou -mightst returne home, and not bee an exile from thine owne abiding, -have 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 unto -thee, and which (by thy command) I was enjoyned 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 honour respect their -promises, that after so long and tedious travell, 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 judgement. -Upon his urging by what possible meanes this could be broght to -passe: the Countesse in presence of the whole assembly, and unto her -eternall commendation, related the whole history, even in such manner -as you have formerly heard it. Moreover, she reported the private -speeches in bed, uttered betweene himselfe and her, being witnessed -more apparantly, by the costly Jewelse 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 every point which she had reported. - -Commending her admirable constancy, excellency of wit, & sprightly -courage, in making such a bold adventure; 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 have no deniall, but by forgetting his -former harsh and uncivill carriage towardes her, to accept her for -ever as his lawfull wife: folding her in his armes, and sweetly -kissing her divers times together, he bad her welcome to him, as his -vertuous, loyall, & most loving wife, and so (for ever 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 uncase her of those pilgrimes weeds, and cloath -her in her owne more sumptuous garments, even 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 give the King thanks for her, and now was Count _Bertrand_ truly -married to the faire _Juliet_ of _Narbona_. - - - - -_The wonderfull and chaste resolved continency of faire Serictha, -daughter to Siwalde King of Denmark, who being sought and sued unto by -many worthy persons, that did affect her dearly, would not looke any -man in the face, untill such time as she was married._ - -The tenth Novell. - -_A very singular and worthy president, for all yong Ladies and -Gentlewomen: not rashly to bestow themselves in mariage, without the -knowledge and consent of their Parents and Friends._ - - -_Dioneus_ having diligently listened to the Queens singular discourse, -so soone as she had concluded, and none now remaining but himselfe, to -give a full period unto 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 now expect from me, some such -queint Tale, as shall be suteable to my merry disposition; rather -savouring of wantonnesse, then any discreet and sober wisedom; and such -a purpose indeed, I once had entertained. But having well observed -all your severall relations, grounded on grave & worthy examples, -especially the last, so notably delivered by the Queene: I cannot but -commend faire _Juliet_ of _Narbona_, in perfourming two such strange -impossibilities, and conquering the unkindnesse of so cruel a husband. -If my Tale come short of the precedent excellency, or give 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 observed 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 whatsoever elsee, to attract -the eyes of everie one to beholde her: was also so chaste, modest, -and bashfull, as it was meerely impossible, to prevaile 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 conceived, of the vertuous qualities of a Ladie. -Notwithstanding, never could any man make his vaunt, that she had -given him so much as a looke, or ever any one attained to the favour, -to whisper a word in her eare. Because both the custome and will of -Parents then (very respectively kept in those Northerne parts of the -world) of hearing such speak, as desired their daughters in marriage; -grew from offering them some worthy services; 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 will and disposition of the King her -Lord and Father; was so contrary, to give any living man an answer, -that her eye never 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 have any other disposition, but such -as should bee pleasing to their parents, either to graunt, or denie, -according as they were guided by their grave judgement. In like manner, -so well had shee brideled her sensuall appetites, with the curbe of -Reason, Wisedome, and Providence; setting such a severe and constant -restraint, on the twinkling or motions of her eyes, in absolute -obedience to her Father; as never 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 favour, from her whom they so -dutiously pursued, to steale but a silly glimpse or glance, and would -have thought it a kind of honourable theft. But this immovable 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 endeavour, ayming onely at obtaining her in mariage: yet did she -not lend any look of her eye, yeelding the least signall of the hearts -motion, in affecting any thing whatsoever, but what it pleased her -Father she should do. - -_Serictha_ living in this strange and unusuall manner, it mooved manie -Princes and great Lords, to come and court her, contending both by -signes and words, to change her from this severe constancie, and make -knowne (if possible it might be) whether a woman would or could be so -resolute, as to use no respect at all towards them, coming from so -manie strange countries, to honour 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 themselves, 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 severity would be shaken, if once it came to passe, -that his daughter should feele the piercing apprehensions of love, & -whereof (as yet) she never had any experience; he determined to use -some remedy for this great concourse of lovers, and strange kinde of -carriage in the Princesse his daughter. For, hee apparantly perceived, -that such excelling beauty as was in _Serictha_, with those good and -commendable customes, and other ornaments of his daughters mind, could -never attaine to such an height of perfection; but yet there would be -found some men, so wittily accute and ingenious, as to convert and -humour 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 service, some one or other -would prove 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 himselfe -in his Chamber, and standing cleere from all other attention, hee used -to her this, or the like Language. - -I know not faire daughter, what reason may move 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 -love and loyall service, under this onely pretence (as I perceive) -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 justly vouchsafe to see; I commend your -maidenly continencie, which yet neverthelesse, I would not have to bee -so severe; as (at length) your youth falling into mislike thereof, it -maybe the occasion of some great misfortune, either to you, or me, -or elsee to us both together: considering what rapes are ordinarily -committed in these quarters, and of Ladies equall every way to your -selfe; which happening, would presently be the cause of my death. - -If it be in regard of some vow which you have consecrated to virginity, -and to some one of our Gods: I seeke not therein to hinder your -disseignes, neither will bereave the celestiall powers, of whatsoever -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 prove a Campe destinied unto -the conclusion of such quarrelse, or you be the occasion of ruining so -many, whose service would beseeme a much more needfull place, then to -dye heere by fond and foolish opinion of enjoying a vaine pleasure, -yet remaining in the power of another bodie to grant. If therefore I -shall perceive, that these behaviours in you do proceede from pride, or -contempt of them, who endeavour to do you both honour and service, 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 -severity: promising you, upon the word and faith of a King, nay more, -of a loving and kinde Father, that if I finde the cause to bee just -and reasonable, I will desist so farre from hindering your intent, -as you shal rather perceive my fatherly furtherance, and rest truly -resolved of my help and favour. Wherefore faire daughter, neither blush -or dismay, or feare to let me understand your will; for evidently I -see, that meere virgin shame hath made a rapture of your soule, beeing -nothing elsee but those true splendours of vertue derived from your -Auncestors, and shining in you most gloriously, gracing you with a much -richer embellishing, then 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 uppon 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 reverence, in signe of dutifull accepting such favour, -thus she answered. Royall Lord and Father, seeing that in your Princely -Court, I have gathered whatsoever may be termed vertuous in me, & you -being the principall instructer of my life, from whom I have learned -those lessons, how maides (of my age) ought to governe and maintaine -themselves: you shall apparently perceive, that neither gazing lookes, -which I ought not to yeelde without your consent, nor pride or -arrogancie, never taught 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 behaviour, 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 have any other private -reserved 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) untill 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 untainted 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 have sealed up my soule with an -absolute determination, rather to make choise of death, then any way to -alter this my warrantable severity. - -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 lives -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 (neverthelesse) I hold as a -matter impossible, if their discord should be grounded on the sole -apprehension of their soules: and the onely prevention thereof, 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 unto -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 endeavouring to shake the simplicity of a bashfull maide: -Let them cleare the Kings high-wayes of Theeves, who make the passages -difficult: or let them expell Pirates from off the Seas, which make our -_Danish_ coasts every way inaccessible. These are such Noble meanes -to merit, as may throw deserved recompence uppon 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 -give her: for otherwise, you know her absolute resolve, never to looke -any living 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 gave him, returned her this answer. Understand me wel, faire -daughter; neither am I minded to breake your determination wholly, nor -yet to governe my selfe according to your fancie. I stand indifferently -contented, that untill I have 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 therein to declare -your obedience. What elsee remaineth beside, for so silly a thing as a -Woman is, and for the private pleasing of so many great Princes and -Lords, I will not endanger any of their lives; because their parents -and friends (being sensible of such losses) may seeke revenge, perhaps -to their owne ruine, and some following scourge to my indiscretion. -For I consider (daughter) that I have neighbours who scarsely love me, -and of whom (in time) I may right my selfe, having received (by their -meanes) great wrongs & injuries. Also I make no doubt, but to manage -your love-sute with discretion, and set such a pleasing proceeding -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 favourably upon some one man, to reach the height of both our -wished desires. - -_Siwalde_ was thus determinately resolved, to let his daughter live at -her owne discretion, without any alteration of her continued severitie, -perceiving day by day, that many came still to request her in mariage; -& he could not give 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 favour 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 gave over their amorous enterprize: -whereof _Serictha_ was wondrouslie joyfull, seeing her selfe eased -of such tedious importunitie, dulling her eares with their proffered -services, and foppish allegations of fantasticke servitude: such as -ydle-headed Lovers do use to protest before their Mistresses, wherein -they may beleeve 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 having stolne the Sister -unto King _Hunguinus_, and Sister to _Siwalde_, & affiancing himselfe -to her, was slaine by King _Haldune_, and by thus killing him, -enjoyed 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 (above all the rest) on his excellent -and eloquent speaking; bestowed his best endeavour to obtaine -_Serictha_, notwithstanding the contemptible carriage of the rest -towards him; whereupon prevailing 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 living at this day in all the Northerne parts, should make so -small account of your selfe, as to denie that, which with honour you may -yeeld to them, as seeke to doe you most humble service; and forgetting -the rank you hold, doe refuse to deigne them recompence in any manner -whatsoever, seeking onely to enjoy you in honourable marriage? Perhaps -you are of opinion, that the gods should become slaves to your -beauty, in which respect, men are utterly unworthy to crave 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 us men; I thinke you covet 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 have wished, -and doe desire you: I know also, that as many have requested you of -the King your Father, but the choyce remaineth in your power, and you -being ordained the Judge, to distinguish the merit of all your Sutors; -me thinkes you doe wrong to the office of a Judge; in not regarding -the parties which are in suite, to sentence the desert of the best and -bravest, 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 -have a Sonne in Law, to revenge 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 favour, as to make me the man, whom your heart -hath chosen to be your Husband; I sweare unto you by the honour of -a Souldier, that I will undergoe such service, as the King shall be -revenged, you royally satisfied, and my selfe advanced 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 love may be -engraven therein; see there the loyall pursuite of your _Ocharus_, who, -to save his life, cannot so much as winne one looke from his divine -Mistresse. - -This nicenesse is almost meerely barbarous, that I, wishing to -adventure my life prodigally in your service, 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 servant _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 upon me; if my face be so unworthy, that one beame of your -bright Sunnes may not shine upon 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 envious of mine ease, let one of your -women be shee, to pronounce the sentence of life or 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 servants be against your more mercifull -wishes; deale so that I may perceive it, and expresse what compassion -you have of your _Ocharus_, who coveteth nothing more, then your daily -hearts ease and contentment, with a priviledge of honour above other -Ladies. All this discourse was heard by _Serictha_, but so little was -shee moved therewith, as shee was farre enough off from returning him -any answer, neither did any of the Gentlewomen attending on her, ever -heare her use the very least word to any of her amorous sollicitors, -nor did shee know any one of them, but by speech onely, which drove -them all into an utter despaire, perceiving no possible meanes whereby -to conquer her. - -The Histories of the Northerne Countries doe declare, that in those -times, the rapes of women were not much respected; and such as pursued -any Lady or Gentlewoman with love, were verily perswaded, that they -never made sufficient proofe of their amourous passions, if they -undertooke not all cunning stratagems, with adventure of their lives -to all perils whatsoever, for the rape or stealth of them, whom they -purposed to enjoy in marriage. As we reade in the _Gothes_ History -of _Gramo_, Sonne to the King of _Denmarke_, who being impatiently -amourous of the daughter to the King of the _Gothes_, and winning the -love 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 -injury, _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 -used all honourable services to her, as the Daughter of so great a -Prince worthily deserved: 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; prevailed so farre, that he corrupted one of her -Governesses, for secretly training her to such a place, where the -ravisher should lie in ambush to carry her away, so to enjoy 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 love -a Lady for her gentillity and vertue; knoweth not how to measure what -love is, neither seeth or conceiveth, how farre the permission of his -owne endeavour extendeth. Moreover, you may observe, that never any age -was so grosse, or men so simple, but even almost from the beginning, -avarice 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 light of -all men, and never distrusted them which kept about her; shee who never -knew (except some naturall sparke gave light to her understanding) -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 have repented very dearely, if -Heaven had not succoured her innocency, by the helpe of him, who wished -her as well as the ravisher, though their desires were quite contrary; -the one to enjoy her by violence, but the other affecting rather to -die, then doe the least act which might displease her. No sooner was -_Serictha_ arrived at the destined place, where her false Governesse -was to deliver 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 ravisher durst not convey her to his owne abiding, to enjoy -the benefit of his purchase; but haled her into a small thicket of -trees, where, although shee knew the evident perill, whereinto her -severe continency had now throwne her: yet notwithstanding, shee would -not lift up her eyes, to see what he was that had thus stolne her, -so firmely shee dwelt upon grounded deliberation, and such was the -vigor of her chaste resolve. And albeit shee knew a wickednesse (worse -then death) preparing for her, who had no other glory then in her -vertue, and desire to live 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 prejudice 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 advantage whatsoever, crying out -shrilly, and strugling against him strongly: her outcryes were heard -by one, who little imagined that shee was so neere, whom he loved -more dearely then his owne life, namely, _Ocharus_; who was walking -accidentally alone in this wood, devising 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 ravished; but he -cryed out to the thiefe, saying; Hand off villaine, let not such a -slave as thou, prophane with an unreverend touch the sacred honour of -so chaste a Princesse, who deserveth to be more royally respected, then -thus rudely hurried: Hand off I say, or elsee I sweare by her divine -perfections, whom I esteeme above all creatures in this World, to make -thee die more miserably, then ever any man as yet did. - -Whosoever had seene a Lyon or an Ounce rouse himselfe, chafing when -any one adventureth to rob him of his prey; and then with fierce eyes, -mounted creasts, writhed tayles, and sharpened pawes, make against him -that durst to molest him. In the like manner did the ravisher 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 deserved wages, and -just repayment for thy proud presuming. It glads my heart not a little, -to meete thee here, where thou shalt soone perceive what good will I -beare thee, and whether thou be worthy or no to enjoy 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 favour; when shee shall see what a powerfull arme I -have, 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 Mastive Dogge, or pricked by -the point of a weapon, he ran upon his enemy, and was so roughly -welcommed by him, as it could not easilly be judged which of them had -the better advantage. But in the end Fortune favoured most the honest -man, and _Ocharus_ having overthrowne the robber, hee smote the head -of him quite from his shoulders, which he presented to her, whom he -had delivered out of so great a peril, and thus he spake. You may -now behold Madam, whether _Ocharus_ be a true lover of _Sericthaes_ -vertues, or no, and your knowledge fully resolved, at what end his -affection aimeth; as also, how farre his honest desert extendeth, -for you both to love him, and to recompence the loyall respect he -hath used towards you. Never looke on the villaines face, who strove -to shame the King your Fathers Court, by violation of theevery, the -chastest 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 given you contentment, by delivering you from this -Traytor. - -Doth it not appeare unto you Madam, that I have as yet done enough, -whereby to be thought a worthy Husband, for the royall Daughter -of _Denmarke_? Have I not satisfied the Kings owne Ordinance, by -delivering his Daughter, as already I have 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 perceive, that the wages of -my devoire, is ranked amongest those precedent services, which I have -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 unfeigned lover of -your modesty, and devoutly honoureth your vertuous behaviour. And yet -Madame, shall I have 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 have 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 services: 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 itselfe 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 resolved, that no violence -had bene done unto her. - -The Princesse, sharpely rebuking her women, for leaving her so basely -as they had done, gave charge to one of them (because she would not -seeme altogether negligent & discourteous) that she being gone thence, -she should not faile to thanke _Ocharus_, for the honest and faithfull -service he had done unto her, which she would continually remember, -and recompence as it lay in her power. Neverthelesse, shee advised him -withall, not to hope of any more advantage 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 reserved her for another, all his services would availe to no -purpose, but rather to make her the more rigorous towards him. - -This gracious answer, thus given him by her Gentlewoman, although it -gave some small contentment to the poore languishing lover: yet hee -saw no assured signe whereon to settle his resolve, but his hopes -vanished away in smoake, as fast as opinion bred them in his braine. -And gladly he would have given over all further amorous solicitings, -but by some private perswasions of her message sent him, which in time -might so advance his services done for her sake, as would derive far -greater favours from her. Whereupon, he omitted no time or place, but -as occasion gave him any gracious permission, still plied her memorie, -with his manly rescuing her from the ravisher, 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 deserve -her, as he had done. - -So long he pursued her in this manner, that his speeches seemed hatefull -to her, and devising 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 service, 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 herselfe to paines and -servility: 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 uprore for the Ladies losse, the Father in no meane -affliction, the Lovers well-nere beside their wits, and every one elsee -most greevously 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 judgement can sound the depth of his wofull -extreamity? Fearing least some other theefe had now made a second -stealth of his divine Goddesse; he must needs follow her againe, -seeking quite throughout the world, never more returning backe to the -Court, nor to the place of his owne abiding, untill hee heard tidings -of his Mistresse, or ended his dayes in the search of her. No Village, -Town, Cottage, Castle, or any place elsee of note or name, did hee -leave unsought, but diligently he searched for _Serictha_; striving -to get knowledge, under what habit she lived thus concealed, but all -his labour was to no effect: which made him leave the places so much -frequented, and visite the solitary desert shades, entering into all -Caves 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 -rivers, 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 having got a sight of him, -presently covered her face with a veile. Love, who sate as Sentinell -both in the heart and eye of the gentle _Norwegian_ Lord, as quickly -discovered the subtilty of the faire Shephearddesse, enstructing the -soule of _Ocharus_, that thus she hid her face, as coveting not to -be knowne: whereupon he gathered, that doubtlesse this was shee, for -whom he hadde sought with such tedious travaile, and therefore going -directly unto her, thus hee spake. - -Gentle Princesse; wherefore do you thus hide your selfe from mee? -Why do you haunt these retreats and desolate abodes, having power to -command over infinite men, that cannot live but by your presence? -What hath moved you Madame, to flye from company, to dwel among desert -Rockes, and serve as a slave, to such as are no way worthy of your -service? Why do you forsake a potent King, whose onely daughter and -hope you are; leaving your countrey and royall traine of Ladies, -and so farre abasing your selfe, to live in the dejected state of a -servant, and to some rusticke clowne or peazant? What reason have you, -to despise so many worthy Lords, that dearely love and honour you, but -(above them all) your poore slave _Ocharus_, who hath made no spare of -his owne life, for the safety of yours, and also for the defence of -your honour? Royal maid, I am the same man that delivered you from the -villaine, who would have violated your faire chastity; and since then, -have not spared any payne or travell in your search: for whose losse, -King _Siwalde_ is in extreme anguish, the _Danes_ in mourning habites, -and _Ocharus_ even at the doore of death, being no way able to endure -your absence. - -Are you of the minde, worthy Madame, that I have not hitherto deserved -so much as one good looke or glance of your eye, in recompence of -so many good & loyall services? If Alas! I am neither ravisher, nor -demander of any unjust requests, or elsee incivill in my motions: -I may merit one regard of my Mistresse. I require onely so silly -a favour, that her eyes may pay me the wages for all which I have -hitherto done in her service. What would you do Madam, if I were an -importunate solicitor, and requested farre greater matters of you, in -just 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 covet, that she should any otherwise entreate -mee, then with such severity as beseemeth so great a Princesse. I aske -no more, but onely to elevate your chaste eyes, and grace me with -one little looke, as being the man, who for his vertue and loyall -affection, hath deserved more then that favour, 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 perceiving that it availed nothing to conceale hir -selfe, being by him so apparantly discovered; began now to speake -(which she had never done before, either to him, or any other of her -amorous suters) answering him in this manner. Lord _Ocharus_, it might -suffice you, that your importunity made me forsake my Fathers Court, -and causeth me to live 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 have presumed to do. For I am -resolved, never to favour you any otherwise, then hitherto I have done; -desiring you therefore, that _Serictha_ wanting an Interpreter to tell -you her will, you would now receive it from her owne mouth, determining -sooner to dye, then alter a jot of her intended purpose. - -_Ocharus_ hearing this unwelcome answer, was even upon the point to -have 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 unfitting for a man of his -ranke; hee tooke his leave of her, solemnly promising, not to forget -her further pursuite, but at all times to obey her so long as he -lived, although her commaund was very hard for him to endure. So hee -departed thence, not unto the Court, she being not there, that had -the power to enjoyne his presence: but home to his owne house, where -he was no sooner arrived, 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 service, who utterly despised him, and all -his endeavours which he undertooke. He began to accuse her of great -ingratitude, laying over-much respect uppon her vertue, to have no -feeling at all of his loyall sufferings; but meerely made a mockery -of his martyrdome. Heereupon, he concluded to give over 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 severity, as astonished -the courages of her stoutest servants; considering (more deliberately) -on the sincere affection of _Ocharus_, and that vertue onely made him -the friend to her modesty, and not wanton or lascivious appetite; she -felt a willing readinesse in her soule, to gratifie him in some worthy -manner, and to recompence some part of his travailes. Which to effect, -she resolved to follow him (in some counterfeite habite) even 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 served, 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 serveth -you in the poore degree of Shephearddesse, is the onely daughter to -_Siwalde_ King of the _Danes_: for whose love, so many great Lords have -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 rivals. But if my words -may not heerein sufficiently assure you, I would advise 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 -prevaile with you, and you remain assured, that I am she, whom your -Noble neighbour so deerely affecteth, albeit I never made any account -at all of him: then I do earnestly intreat you, so much to stand my -friend, as to provide some convenient means for me, whereby I may passe -unknowne to the Castle of _Ocharus_, to revenge my selfe on his civill -honesty, & smile at him hereafter, if he prove not so cleerely sighted, -as to know her being neere him, whom he vaunteth to love above all -women elsee. - -The good Countrey-woman hearing these wordes, and perceyving that she -had the Princesse in her house, of whose speeches she made not any -doubt, in regard of her stout countenance, gravity, and faire demeanour, -began to rellish something in her minde, farre differing from matter -of common understanding, and therefore roundly replied in this kind of -language. - -Madam (for servant I may no longer call you) I make no question to -the contrary, but that you are derived of high birth; having observed -your behaviour, and womanly carriage. And so much the more I remaine -assured thereof, having seene such great honour done unto 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 service, because you are the Princesse _Serictha_, whom I am to -performe all humble dutie unto, as being one of your meanest subjects. -And although you were not shee, yet would I not presume any way to -offend you, in regarde of the true and vertuous love, 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 whatsoever is mine, -which may any way sted you; for, to make you passe unknowne, I can and -will provide sufficiently, even to your own contentment, and in such -strange manner, as _Ocharus_ (were he never so cleerely sighted) shal -be deceived, you being attired in those fashion garments, which heere -in these parts are usually worne. - -_Serictha_ being wonderously joyfull at her answer, suffred hir to -paint, or rather soile her faire face, with the juice of divers hearbes -and rootes, and cloathed her in such an habite as those women use to -weare that live in the mountaines of _Norway_, upon the sea-coast -fronting _Great-Britain_. Being thus disguised, confidently she -went, to beguile the eie of her dearest friend, and so to returne -backe againe from him, having affoorded him such a secret favour, in -requitall of his honourable services; delivering her out of so great -a danger, and comming to visite her in so solitarie a life. Nor would -she have the womans company any further, then till she came within the -sight of _Ocharus_ his Castle; where when she was arrived (he being -then absent) the mother unto the Noble Gentleman, gave 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 received advertisement by his -mother, concerning the arrivall 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 travailes, and passed honest offices. Observing all her actions and -gestures, her wonted rigour never bending one jot, or gave way to her -eye to looke upon 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 give a final end to his greevous afflictions. - -Upon a watch-word given to his Mother, he pretended, and so caused it -to be noised through the house, that he was to marry a very honourable -Lady; which the constant and chaste maide verily beleeved; and -therefore gave the more diligent attendance (as a new-come servant) to -see all things in due decency, as no one could expresse herselfe more -ready, because she esteemed him above all other men. Yet such was the -obstinate opinion she concerned of her owne precisenesse, as she would -rather suffer all the flames of love, then expresse the least shew of -desire to any man living. Neverthelesse, she was inwardly offended, -that any other should have the honour, to make her vaunt of enjoying -_Ocharus_; whom (indeed) she coveted, 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 receiving the pretended Bride; shee employed her new Mayde -(_Serictha_ I meane) as busily as any of the rest. In the meane -while, _Ocharus_ was laid upon a bed, well noting all her carriage -and behaviour, shee having a lighted Candle in her hand, without any -Candlesticke to hold it in. As all the servants (both men and maids) -were running hastily from 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 jote in her -height of mind, and to declare that her corage was invincible; was -so farre off from casting away the small snuffe which offended her, -that she rather graspt it the more strongly, even to the enflaming of -her owne flesh, which gave light to the rest about their businesse. A -matter (almost) as marvellous, as the acte of the noble _Romane_, who -gave 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 have already saide) observed every thing that -_Serictha_ did; perceiving that she spake not one worde, albeit her -hand burned in such fierce manner, was much astonished at her sprightly -mind. And as he was about to advise her, to hurle away the fire so much -offending her; Curiositie (meerely naturall unto Women) made the Ladie -lift uppe her eyes, to see (by stealth) whether her friend had noted -her invincible 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 used, 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 ever 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 loved and desired, -whom I have followed with such painefull travelse, exposing my life -to infinite perils in your service: you have seene and lookt on him, -who never craved any thing of you, but onely this favour, whereof you -cannot bereave me againe, because the Gods themselves, at such time as -I least expected it, have bestowne it on me, as my deserved recompence, -and worthy reward. - -In the delivery of these words, he kissed and embraced her a thousand -times, shee not using any great resistance against him, but onely -as somewhat offended with her selfe, either for being so rash in -looking on him, or elsee 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 armes; but rather, evident signes of hearty contentment, -yet in very bashfull and modest manner, willing enough to accept his -loving kindnesse, yet not wandring from her wonted chaste carriage. He -being favourably excused, for the outward expression of his amourous -behaviour 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, never (with her will) to have any other -Husband but _Ocharus_, who (above all other) had best deserved her, by -his generosity, vertue, manly courage, and valiancy; whereof he might -the better assure himselfe, because (of her owne voluntary disposition) -shee followed to find him out, not for any other occasion, but to -revenge her selfe (by this honest Office) for all that he had done or -undertaken, to winne the grace and love of the King of _Denmarkes_ -Daughter, to whom he presented such dutifull service. - -_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 stratagem against him, -to dispossesse him of so faire a felicity; left off his counterfeit -intended marriage, and effected this in good earnest, and was wedded -to his most esteemed _Serictha_. Not long had these lovers lived in -the lawfull and sacred rites of marriage, but King _Siwalde_ was -advertised, that his Daughter had given her consent to _Ocharus_, and -received him as her noble Husband. The party was not a jot 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 error 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 overbold arrogancy, he -being such a great and powerfull King, to be so lightly respected by -his Subject, 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 adventurous then she was before. She took the matter -in hand, went to her Father, who welcommed her most lovingly, and -so pleasing were her speeches, carried with such wit and womanly -discretion, that nothing wanted to approve what she had done. Matters -which he had never knowne, or so much as heard of, were now openly -revealed, how _Ocharus_ had delivered her from the ravisher, what -worthie respect he then used 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 advise of his -Sonne in Law, whom so highly he esteemed, and liked so respectively of -him, and his race; that his Queene dying, hee married with the Sister -to _Ocharus_, going hand in band with the gentle and modest Princesse -_Serictha_. - -This Novell of _Dioneus_, was commended by all the company, and so much -the rather, because it was free from all folly and obscennesse. And the -Queene perceiving, 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 _Dioneus_, 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 us 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 love 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, everie -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. Lovely Ladies, I would have you to -knowe, that since the time of ability in me, to distinguish betweene -good and evill, I have alwayes bene subject (perhaps by the meanes of -some beautie heere among us) to the proud and imperious dominion of -love, with expression of all duty, humility, and most intimate desire -to please: yet all hath prooved to no purpose, but still I have bin -rejected for some other, whereby my condition hath falne from ill to -worse, and so still it is likely, even 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 cases as are most -conformable to my calamity, namely of such, whose love hath had unhappy -ending, because I await no other issue of mine; nor willingly would I -be called by any other name, but onely, the miserable and unfortunate -Lover. - -Having thus spoken, he arose againe; granting leave to the rest, to -recreate themselves till supper time. The Garden was very faire and -spacious, affoording large limits for their severall walkes; the -Sun being already so low descended, that it could not be offensive -to anyone, the Connies, Kids, and young Hindes skipping every where -about them, to their no meane pleasure and contentment. _Dioneus_ & -_Fiammetta_, sate singing together, of _Messire Guiglielmo_ and the -Lady of _Vertue. Philomena_ and _Pamphilus_ playing at the Chesse, all -sporting themselves as best they pleased. But the houre of Supper being -come, and the Tables covered about the faire fountaine, they sate downe -and supt in most loving manner. Then _Philostratus_, not to swerve from -the course which had beene observed by the Queenes before him, so soone -as the Tables were taken away, gave 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 have 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 lovely, so needs must be whatsoever commeth from -you, therefore let us heare such as you have. Madam _Lauretta_, giving -enstruction to the Chorus, prepared, and began in this manner. - - _The Song. - - No soule so comfortlesse, - Hath more cause to expresse, - Like woe and heavinesse, - As I poore amorous Maide. - - He that did forme the Heavens and every Starre, - Made me as best him pleased, - Lovely and gracious, no Element at jarre, - Or elsee in gentle breasts to moove sterne Warre, - But to have strifes appeased - Where Beauties eye should make the deepest scarre. - And yet when all things are confest, - Never 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 Love-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 joy, - 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 unkinde exchange; - Another Beauty did my hopes betray, - And stole my dearest Love from me away: - Which I thought very strange, - Considering vowes were past, and what elsee may - Assure a loyall Maidens trust, - Never was Lover so unjust, - 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 lovely Nymphes, lend hands mine eyes to close, - And let him wander wheresoere he goes, - Vaunting of mine unrest; - Beguiling others by his treacherous showes, - Grave on my Monument, - No true love was worse spent, - Then mine poore amorous Maide. - No soule so comfortlesse, &c._ - -So did Madam _Lauretta_ finish her Song, which beeing well observed of -them all, was understood by some in divers kinds: some alluding it one -way, & others according to their own apprehensions, but all consenting, -that both it was an excellent Ditty, well devised, and most sweetly -sung. Afterward, lighted Torches being brought, because the Stars had -already richly spangled all the heavens, and the fit houre of rest -approaching: the King commanded them all to their Chambers, where wee -meane to leave them untill the next morning. - - -_The End of the Third Day._ - - - - -The Fourth Day. - -_Wherein all the severall Discourses, are under the Government of -Honourable_ Philostratus: _And concerning such persons, whose Loves -have had successelesse ending._ - -The Induction unto the ensuing Novelles. - - -Most worthy Ladies, I have alwayes heard, as well by the sayings of -the judicious, as also by mine owne observation and reading, that the -impetuous and violent windes of envy, do sildome blow turbulently; but -on the highest Towers and tops of the trees most eminently advanced. -Yet (in mine opinion) I have found my selfe much deceived; because, by -striving with my very uttermost endeavour, to shunne the outrage of -those implacable winds; I have laboured to go, not onely by plaine and -even pathes, but likewise through the deepest vallies. As very easily -may be seene and observed in the reading of these few small Novelse, -which I have 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 have bene rudely shaken, yea, -almost halfe unrooted, by the extreame agitation of those blustering -winds, and torne in peeces by that base back-biter, envy: yet have 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 observed by the wise, to bee most -true; That nothing is without envy in this world, but misery onely. - -Among variety of opinions, faire Ladies; some, seeing these Novelties, -spared not to say; That I have bene over-pleasing to you, and wandered -too farre from mine owne respect, imbasing my credit and repute, by -delighting my selfe too curiously, for the fitting of your humours, -and have extolled your worth too much, with addition of worse speeches -then I meane to utter. Others, seeming to expresse more maturity -of judgment, have likewise said, That it was very unsuteable for -my yeares, to meddle with womens wanton pleasures, or contend to -delight you by the verie least of my labours. Many more, making shew of -affecting my good fame and esteeme, say; I had done much more wisely, -to have 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 -continuall necessities, then to glut the worlde with gulleries, and -feede my hopes with nothing but winde. And others, to calumniate my -travailes, would make you beleeve, that such matters as I have 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 perceive -(vertuous Ladies) how while I labour in your service, I am agitated and -molested with these blusterings, and bitten even to the bare bones, -by the sharpe and venomous teeth of envy; all which (as heaven 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 utmost malice, I will make no -spare of my best abilities, and, without answering them any otherwise -then is fitting, will quietly keepe their slanders from mine eares, -with some sleight reply, yet not deserving to be dreamt on. For I -apparantly perceive, that (having not already attained to the third -part of my pains) they are growne to so great a number, and presume -very farre uppon my patience: they may encrease, except they be -repulsed 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 serve for me in their resistance. But before I come to answer -any one of them, I will relate a Tale in mine owne favour; 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 -untold, 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 lived 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 unto his calling. He had a wife whom he loved 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, leaving 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 jewell of his joy. And being -thus divided from the company which he most esteemed: he determined -also to separate himselfe from the world, addicting al his endeavours -to the service of God; and applying his yong sonne likewise, to the -same holy exercises. Having given away all his goods for Gods sake, he -departed to the Mountaine _Asinaio_, where he made him a small Cell, -and lived there with his little sonne, onely upon 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 elsee but devout prayers, leading this kinde -of life for many yeares together, not permitting him ever to goe forth -of the Cell, or shewing him any other but himselfe. - -The good old man used divers times to go to _Florence_, where having -received (according to his opportunities) the almes of divers 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 resolved him: whereuppon, the youth thus -spake unto him. Father, you are now growne very aged, and hardly can -endure such painfull travell: why do you not let me go to _Florence_, -that by making me knowne to your well disposed friends, such as are -devoutly addicted both to God, and you; I, who am young, and better -able to endure travaile then you are, may go thither to supply our -necessities, and you take your ease in the mean while? The aged man, -perceiving the great growth of his Sonne, and thinking him to be so -well instructed in Gods service, 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 never 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 resolved 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; -whereto the olde man replyed thus. Sonne, cast downe thy lookes unto -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 mervaile, that hee who had never seene -any women before now; appeared not to respect the faire Churches, -Palaces, goodly horses, Golde, Silver, or any thing elsee which he had -seene; but, as fixing his affection onely upon this sight, sodainly -said to the old man. Good Father, do so much for me, as to let me -have one of these Gozlings. Alas Sonne (replyed the Father) holde thy -peace I pray thee, and do not desire any such naughty things. Then by -way of demand, he thus proceeded, saying. Father, are these naughty -things made of themselves? 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 judgement, I have -not seene any thing so faire and pleasing in mine eye, as these are, -who excell those painted Angelse, which heere in the Churches you have -shewn me. And therefore Father, if either you love me, or have any care -of me, let mee have one of these 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. Perceiving presently, that Nature had farre greater -power then his Sonnes capacity and understanding; which made him -repent, for fondly bringing his sonne to _Florence_. - -Having 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 envious depravers: such as have saide (faire Ladies) that -I am double blame-worthy, in seeking to please you, and that you are -also over-pleasing to me; which freely I confesse before all the -world, that you are singularly pleasing to me, and I have stroven -how to please you effectually. I would demand of them (if they seeme -so much amazed heereat,) considering, I never knew what belonged to -true love kisses, amorous embraces, and their delectable fruition, -so often received from your graces; but onely that I have seene, and -do yet daily behold, your commendable conditions, admired beauties, -noble adornments by nature, and (above all the rest) your womenly and -honest conversation. If hee that was nourished, bred, and educated, on -a savage solitary Mountain, within the confines of a poore small Cell, -having no other company then his Father: If such a one, I say, uppon -the very first sight of your sexe, could so constantly confesse, that -women were onely worthy of affection, and the object which (above all -things elsee) 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 endeavour likewise to please you with my utmost paines? Never had the -auspitious heavens allowed me life, but onely to love you; and from my -very infancie, mine intentions have alwaies bene that way bent: feeling -what vertue flowed from your faire eies, understanding the mellifluous -accents of your speech, whereto the enkindled flames of your sighes -gave no meane grace. But remembring especially, that nothing could -so please an Hermite, as your divine perfections, an unnurtured Lad, -without understanding, and little differing from a meere brutish beast: -undoubtedly, whosoever loveth not women, and desireth to be affected of -them againe; may well be ranked among these women-haters, speaking out -of cankred spleene, and utterly ignorant of the sacred power (as also -the vertue) of naturall affection, whereof they seeming so carelesse, -the like am I of their depraving. - -Concerning them that touch me with mine age; Do not they know, that -although Leeks have white heads, yet the blades of them are alwaies -greene? But referring them to their flouts and taunts, I answer, that -I shal never hold it any disparagement to mee, so long as my life -endureth, to delight my selfe with those exercises, which _Guido -Cavalconti_, 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 approove 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 us. And yet neverthelesse, when any man departeth from -them, they delighting themselves, to see such things as may bee -thought like them, do not therein deserve 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 have a -lively resemblance with the Muses: so that, if women were pleasing for -nothing elsee, yet they ought to be generally pleasing in that respect. -Beside all this, women have bin the occasion of my composing a thousand -Verses, whereas the Muses never caused me to make so much as one. Verie -true it is, that they gave me good assistance, and taught me how I -shold compose them, yea, and directed me in writing of these Novelse. -And how basely soever they judge of my studies, yet have the Muses -never scorned to dwell with me, perhaps for the respective service, and -honourable resemblance of those Ladies with themselves, whose vertues -I have not spared to commend by them. Wherefore, in the composition of -these varieties, I have not strayed so farre from _Parnassus_, nor the -Muses; as in their silly conjectures they imagine. - -But what shall I say to them, who take so great compassion on my -povertie, as they advise me to get something, whereon to make my -living? 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 drive me to crave kindnesse of them; questionles, -they would then say: Goe, seeke comfort among thy fables and follies. -Yet I would have them know, that poore Poets have alwayes found more -among their fables & fictions; then many rich men ever 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 -inventions and fables: whereas on the contrary, a great number of -other busier braines, seeking to gaine more then would serve them to -live on; have utterly runne uppon their owne ruine, and overthrowne -themselves for ever. What should I say more? To such men, as are either -so suspitious of their owne charitie, or of my necessity, whensoever -it shall happen: I can answere (I thanke my God for it) with the -Apostle; I know how to abounde, & 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 inquisitive into my discourses, to have 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 jot discordant from my -writing; and then I would freely confesse, that they had some reason -to reprehend me, and I should endeavour to make them amends. But untill -they can touch me with any thing elsee, but words onely; I must let them -wander in their owne giddy opinions, and followe the course projected -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 heavens 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, driving it from one place to another; or, -carrying it up to the aire, many times it falleth downe againe on mens -heads, yea, upon 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 ever I strove to please you -with my uttermost abilities in any thing, surely I must now contend to -expresse it more then ever. For, I know right well, that no man can -say with reason, except some such as my selfe, who love and honour -you, that we do any otherwise then as nature hath commanded us; and to -resist her lawes, requires a greater and more powerfull strength then -ours: and the contenders against her supreame priviledges, have either -laboured meerely in vaine, or elsee incurred their owne bane. Which -strength, I freely confesse my selfe not to have, neither covet 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 use it on mine own behalfe. Wherefore, -I would advise them that thus checke and controule mee, to give over, -and be silent; and if their cold humours cannot learne to love, let them -live still in their frostie complexion, delighting themselves in their -corrupted appetites: suffering me to enjoy mine owne, for the little -while I have to live; 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 have wandered -too farre. By this time the Sun had chased the Starre-light from the -heavens, 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 _Fiammetta_, that she -should give beginning to the dayes Novelse: when she, without any -longer delaying, began 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 Novell. - -_Wherein is declared the power of Love, and their cruelty justly -reprehended, who imagine to make the vigour thereof cease, by abusing -or killing one of the Lovers._ - - -Our King (most Noble and vertuous Ladies) hath this day given us a -subject, 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 -reviving the teares of others, to bedew our owne cheekes withall. Nor -can any such argument be spoken of, without moving compassion both -in the reporters, and hearers. But (perhaps) it was his highnesse -pleasure, to moderate the delights which we have already had. Or -whatsoever elsee hath provoked him thereto, seeing it is not lawfull for -mee, to alter or contradict his appointment; I will recount an accident -very pittiful, or rather most unfortunate, 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 Lovers, especially one of them, -being both neere and deere unto 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 -loved and esteemed, as never was any childe more deerely affected of a -Father: and so farre extended his over-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 divers yeares) the -age meete for marriage. Neverthelesse, at length, he matched her with -the Sonne to the Duke of _Capua_, who lived 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 favour and -feature, as could be wished in any woman, yong, queintly disposed, and -of admirable understanding, more (perhappes) then was requisite in -so weake a bodie. Continuing thus in Court with the King her Father, -who loved her beyond all his future hopes; like a Lady of great and -glorious magnificence, she lived in all delights & pleasure. She well -perceiving, 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 -private consultations, to make choise of some one especiall friend or -favourite (if Fortune would prove 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 brave -Gentlemen, and others of inferiour quality, as commonly the Courts of -Kings & Princes are, whose carriage and demeanour she very heedfully -observed. There was a yong Gentleman among all the rest, a servant to -her Father, and named _Guiscardo_, a man not derived from any great -descent by bloode, yet much more Noble by vertue and commendable -behaviour, 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 Bavin -to take flame, yet kept so closely as possibly she could; as Ladies are -warie enough in their love. - -The yong Gentleman, though poore, being neither blocke nor dullard, -perceived what he made no outward shew of, and understood 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 loving mutually (yet secretly) -in this manner, and shee coveting nothing more, then to have private -conference with him, yet not daring to trust anyone with so important a -matter; at length she devised a new cunning stratageme, to compasse her -longing desire, and acquaint him with her private purpose, which proved -to bee in this manner. Shee wrote a Letter, concerning what was the -next day to be done, for their secret meeting together; and conveying -it within the joynt of an hollow Cane, in jesting manner threw it to -_Guiscardo_, saying; Let your man make use of this, insted of a paire -of bellowes, when he meaneth to make fire in your chamber. _Guiscardo_ -taking up the Cane, and considering with himselfe, that neither was -it given, or the wordes thus spoken, but doubtlesse on some important -occasion: went unto his lodging with the Cane, where viewing it -respectively, 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 service therein -concerned; he was the most joyfull man of the world, and began to -contrive his aptest meanes, for meeting with his gracious Mistresse, -and according as she had given him direction. In a corner of the Kings -Palace, it being seated on a rising hill, a cave had long beene made -in the body of the same hill, which received no light into it, but by -a small spiracle or vent-loope, made out ingeniously on the hills side. -And because it hadde not in long time bene frequented, by the accesse -of any body, that vent-light was over-growne with briars and bushes, -which almost engirt it round about. No one could descend into this -cave 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 cave 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 Love, 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 discovered 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 cave; observing the loope-light, -& had made it commodious for her purpose, shee gave knowledge thereof -to _Guiscardo_, to have him devise 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 -hills side, and given it a larger entrance for his safer passage; he -provided a Ladder of cords, with steppes sufficient for his descending -and ascending, as also a wearing sute made of leather, to keepe his -skinne unscratched of the thornes, and to avoide all suspition of his -resorting thither. In this manner went he to the saide loope-hole the -night following, and having 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 cave, 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 leave her alone in her Chamber, and -not to returne untill she called for them, locking the doore her selfe -for better security. Then opened she the doore of the cave, and going -downe the staires, found there her amorous friend _Guiscardo_, whom she -saluting with a chaste and modest kisse; caused him to ascend up the -stayres with her into her chamber. This long desired, and now obtained -meeting, caused the two deerely affecting Lovers, in kinde discourse -of amorous argument (without incivill or rude demeanour) to spend there -the most part of that day, to their hearts joy and mutuall contentment. -And having concluded on their often meeting there, in this cunning -& concealed sort; _Guiscardo_ went downe into the cave againe, the -Princesse making the doore fast after him, and then went forth among -her Women. So in the night season, _Guiscardo_ ascended uppe againe -by his Ladder of cords, and covering the loope-hole with brambles and -bushes, returned (unseene of any) to his owne lodging: the cave being -afterward guilty of their often meeting there in this manner. - -But Fortune, who hath alwayes bin a fatall enemy to lovers stolne -felicities, became envious of their thus secret meeting, and overthrew -(in an instant) all their poore happinesse, by an accident most -spightfull and malicious. The King had used divers dayes before, after -dinner time, to resort all alone to his daughters Chamber, there -conversing with her in most loving manner. One unhappy day amongst the -rest, when the Princesse, being named _Ghismonda_, was sporting in her -privat 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 have 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 upon the bed; his body -being covered with the curtaine, as if he hid himselfe purposely; hee -mused on so many matters, untill at last he fell fast asleepe. - -It hath bin observed as an ancient Adage, that when disasters are -ordained to any one, commonly they prove to be inevitable, as poore -_Ghismonda_ could witnesse too well. For, while the King thus slept, -shee having (unluckily) appointed another meeting with _Guiscardo_, -left hir Gentlewomen in the Garden, and stealing softly into her -Chamber, having 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 usuall -kinde conference againe, with sighes and loving 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 thereat. Once he intended, to cry out for helpe, -to have 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 less disgrace to himselfe, performe what hee had rashly -intended to do. - -The poore discovered Lovers, having ended their amorous interparlance, -without suspition of the Kings being so neer in person, or any else, -to betray their over-confident trust; _Guiscardo_ descended againe -into the Cave, and she leaving the Chamber, returned to her women in -the Garden; all which _Tancrede_ too well observed, and in a rapture -of fury, departed (unseene) into his owne lodging. The same night, -about the houre of mens first sleepe, and according as he had given -order; _Guiscardo_ was apprehended, even 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 love & respect I have used towards thee, hath not -deserved the shameful wrong which thou hast requited me withall, and as -I have seene with mine owne eyes this day. Whereto _Guiscardo_ could -answer nothing elsee, but onely this: Alas my Lord! Love is able to do -much more, then either you, or I. Whereupon, _Tancrede_ commanded, that -he should bee secretly well guarded, in a neere adjoining Chamber, and -on the next day, _Ghismonda_ having (as yet) heard nothing heereof, the -Kings braine being infinitely busied and troubled, after dinner, and -as he often had used 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 -never have bene altred in mee, by any sinister reports whatsoever, -had not mine eyes seene, and mine eares heard the contrary. Nor did I -so much as conceive a thought either of thine affection, or private -conversing with any man, but onely he that was to be thy husband. -But now, I my selfe being able to avouch 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 have 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 -converse with that silly yong man _Guiscardo_, one of very meane and -base descent, and by mee (even for Gods sake) from his very youngest -yeares, brought uppe to this instant in my Court; wherein thou hast -given me much affliction of minde, and so overthrowne my senses, as I -cannot wel imagine how I should deale with thee. For him, whom I have -this night caused to be surprized, even as he came forth of your close -contrived conveyance, and detaine as my prisoner, I have resolved 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 unfeigned affection I bare thee, as never any -father could expresse more to his child: and then againe, thou hast -kindled a most just indignation in me, by thine immodest and wilfull -folly, and whereas Nature pleadeth pardon for the one, yet justice -standeth up against the other, and urgeth cruell severity against thee: -neverthelesse, before I will determine upon 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. - -Having thus spoken, he hung downe the head in his bosome, weeping -as abundantly, as if it had beene a childe severely disciplinde. On -the other side, _Ghismonda_ hearing the speeches of her Father, and -perceiving withall, that not onely her secret love was discovered, 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 unto: but rather, with height of courage, controling feare or -servile basenesse, and declaring invincible fortitude in her very -lookes, shee concluded with her selfe, rather then to urge any humble -perswasions, shee would lay her life downe at the stake. For plainely -shee perceived, that _Guiscardo_ already was a dead man in Law, and -death was likewise as welcome to her, rather then the deprivation of -her Love; 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 have done, or to entreate any favour from -you, is now no part of my disposition: for as the one can little availe -me, so shall not the other any way advantage me. Moreover, I covet -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 have loved, and still doe, -honourable _Guiscardo_, purposing the like so long as I shall live, -which will be but a small while: but if it bee possible to continue -the same affection after death, it is for ever 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, have begotten a -Daughter of the selfe same composition, and not made of stone or yron. -Moreover, 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 evermore were exercised in Armes; yet you should -likewise understand, that negligence and idle delights, have mighty -power, not onely in yong people, but also in them of greatest yeeres. - -I being then made of flesh and blood, and so derived from your selfe; -having 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 subject to naturall desires, wherein such knowledge as I have once -already had, in the estate of my marriage, perhaps might move a further -intelligence of the like delights, according to the better ability of -strength, which exceeding all capacity of resistance, induced a second -motive to affection, answerable to my time and youthful desires, and -so (like a yong woman) I became amorous againe; yet did I strive, -even with all my utmost might, and best vertuous faculties abiding in -me, no way to disgrace either you or my selfe, as (in equall censure) -yet I have not done. But Nature is above all humane power, and Love, -commanded by Nature, hath prevailed for Love, joyning with Fortune: in -meere pity 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, howsoever 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 -advise; I chose him above all other, and having his honest harmelesse -conversation, mutually we enjoyed our hearts contentment. Now it -appeareth, that I having not offended but by love; in imitation of -vulgar opinion, rather then truth: you seeke to reprove 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 evident, -that you doe not so much checke my fault, as the ordination of Fortune; -who many times advanceth men of meanest esteeme, and abaseth them -of greater merit. But leaving this discourse, let us looke into the -originall of things, wherein wee are first to observe, that from one -masse or lumpe of flesh, both we, and all other received 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 unnoble: now although contrary use did afterward hide -and conceale this Law, yet was it not therefore banished from Nature or -good manners. In which respect, whosoever did execute all his actions -by vertue, declared himselfe openly to be noble; and he that tearmed -him otherwise, it was an error in the miscaller, and not in the person -so wrongfully called; as the very same priviledge is yet in full force -among us at this day. - -Cast an heedfull eye then (good Father) upon all your Gentlemen, and -advisedly examine their vertues, conditions and manner of behaviour. On -the other side, observe those parts remaining in _Guiscardo_: and then, -if you will judge 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 never credited from the report or judgement of any person; but onely -by your speeches, and mine owne eyes as true witnesses. Who did ever -more commend _Guiscardo_, extolling all those singularities in him, -most requisite to be in an honest vertuous man; then you your selfe -have done? Nor neede you to be sorry, or ashamed of your good opinion -concerning him; for, if mine eyes have not deceived my judgement, you -never gave him the least part of praise, but I have knowne much more -in him, then ever your words were able to expresse: wherefore, if I -have beene any way deceived, truly the deceit proceeded onely from -you. How will you then maintaine, that I have 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 have not bestowne place of more preferment, on -a man so honest and well deserving, and having beene so long a time -your servant. Neverthelesse, poverty impaireth not any part of noble -Nature, but wealth hurries it into horrible confusions. Many Kings and -great Princes have heretofore beene poore, when divers of them that -have delved into the Earth, and kept Flockes in the Feld, have beene -advanced 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 have resolved now in your extremity of yeeres, -to doe that which your younger dayes evermore despised, I meane, to -become cruell; use your utmost cruelty against me, for I will never -entreate you to the contrary, because I am the sole occasion of this -offence, if it doe deserve the name of an offence. And this I dare -assure you, that if you deale not with me, as you have done already, or -intend to _Guiscardo_, mine owne hands shall act as much: and therefore -give over 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 have deserved it. - -The King knew well enough the high spirit of his Daughter, but yet -(neverthelesse) he did not beleeve, that her words would prove actions, -or shee doe as shee saide. And therefore parting from her, and without -intent of using 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 servants to his -Daughter, with command also to use these words to her. Thy Father hath -sent thee this present, to comfort thee with that thing which most of -all thou affectest, even 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, whensoever any crosse accident should come from her -Father; whereupon, when the messenger from her Father had delivered her -the present, and uttered 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 certainely, that it was the -heart of _Guiscardo_; then looking stearnely on the servant, thus she -spake unto him. My honest friend, it is no more then right and justice, -that so worthy a heart as this is, should have any worser grave then -gold, wherein my Father hath dealt most wisely. So, lifting the heart -up to her mouth; and sweetly kissing it, shee proceeded thus. In all -things, even till this instant, (being the utmost period of my life) -I have evermore found my Fathers love most effectuall to me; but now -it appeareth farre greater, then at any time heretofore: and therefore -from my mouth, thou must deliver him the latest thankes that ever I -shall give him, for sending me such an honourable present. - -These words being ended, holding the Cup fast in her hand, and looking -seriously upon 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 travailes and miseries -of this World, have now no more to meddle with thee, and thy very -heaviest enemy, hath bestowed such a grave on thee, as thy greatnesse -in vertue worthily deserveth; now nothing elsee is wanting, wherewith -to beautifie thy Funerall, but onely her sighes & teares, that was so -deare unto thee in thy life time. And because thou mightest the more -freely enjoy 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 resolved, to die with drie eyes, and not -shedding one teare, dreadlesse of their utmost malice towards me. - -And when I have given thee the due oblation of my teares, my soule, -which sometime thou hast kept most carefully, shall come to make a -sweete conjunction with thine: for in what company elsee can I travaile -more contentedly, and to those unfrequented silent shades, but onely in -thine? As yet I am sure it is present here, in this Cup sent me by my -Father, as having a provident 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. - -Having thus finished her complaint, even as if her head had been -converted 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 moved to -compassionate teares, they often demanded (albeit in vaine) the -occasion of her sad complaining, comforting her to their utmost power. -When shee was not able to weepe any longer, wiping her eyes, and -lifting up 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 uneffected; 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 upon the heart lying in the Cup, -couragiously advancing it to her mouth, shee dranke it up every drop; -which being done, shee lay downe upon her bed, holding her Lovers 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 upon her bed; -beholding her in such passionate pangs, with teares streaming downe his -reverend beard, he used many kinde words to comfort her, when boldly -thus shee spake unto him. Father (quoth she) well may you spare these -teares, because they are unfitting for you, and not any way desired -by me; who but your selfe, hath seene any man to mourne for his owne -wilfull offence. Neverthelesse, if but the least jot of that love doe -yet abide in you, whereof you have made such liberall profession to me; -let me obtaine this my very last request, to wit, that seeing I might -not privately enjoy the benefit of _Guiscardoes_ love, and while he -lived; let yet (in death) one publike grave containe both our bodies, -that death may affoord us, what you so cruelly in life denied us. - -Extremity of griefe and sorrow, with-held his tongue from returning -any answer, and shee perceiving her end approaching, held the heart -still closed to her owne bare brest, saying; Here Fortune, receive -two true hearts latest oblation, for, in this manner are we comming -to thee. So closing her eyes, all sense forsooke her, life leaving -her body breathlesse. Thus ended the haplesse love of _Guiscardo_, -and _Ghismonda_, for whose sad disaster, when the King had mourned -sufficiently, and repented fruitlessly; he caused both their bodies -to be honourably embalmed, and buried in a most royall Monument, not -without generall sorrow of the subjects of _Salerne_. - - - - -_Fryar_ Albert _made a young Venetian Gentlewoman beleeve, that God_ -Cupid _was falne in love with her, and he resorted oftentimes unto -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 savage man, he was brought upon the Rialto of -Saint_ Marke, _and being there publikely knowne by the Brethren of his -Order; he was committed to Prison._ - -The second Novell. - -_Reprehending the lewd lives of dissembling hypocrites; and checking -the arrogant pride of vaine-headed women._ - -The Novell 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 have commended the kindnesse -of fortune, if in the whole course of my life, I had tasted the least -moity of that delight, which _Guiscardo_ received by conversing 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 enjoying 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 love, -according as Madam _Fiammetta_ hath already begun, to let fall more -dew-drops on the fire of mine afflictions. Madam _Pampinea_ perceiving -what a taske was imposed on her, knew well (by her owne disposition) -the inclination of the company, whereof shee was more respective, 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 used as a common Proverbe; that a bad man, -taken and reputed to be honest and good, may commit many evils, yet -neither credited, or suspected: which proverbe giveth mee very ample -matter to speake of, and yet not varying from our intention, concerning -the hypocrisie of some religious persons, who having their garments -long and large, their faces made artificially pale, their language -meeke and humble, to get mens goods from them; yet sower, harsh, and -stearne enough, in checking and controuling other mens errors, as also -in urging others to give, and themselves to take, without any other -hope or meanes of salvation. Nor doe they endeavour like other men, to -worke out their soules health with feare and trembling; but, even as if -they were sole owners, Lords, and possessors of Paradice, will appoint -to every 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 deceive themselves, but all such -as give 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 under -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 Novices, 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 lived 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 delivered a matter of sound truth. Wherefore, perceiving -that his lewdnesse allowed him no longer dwelling there; like a -desperate adventurer, he transported himselfe thence to _Venice_, the -receptacle of all foule sinne and abhomination, intending there to -exercise his wonted bad behaviour, and live as wickedly as ever 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 devotion, 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, never -eating flesh, or drinking wine, but when hee was provided 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. Moreover, being -made Priest, when he was celebrating Masse at the Altar, if he saw -himselfe to be observed by any; he would most mournefully reade the -passion of our Saviour, as one whose teares cost him little, whensoever -hee pleased to use 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 lover? Her -patience being exceedingly provoked, stearne anger appeared in her -lookes, which caused her to returne him this answer. How now Sir -_Domine_? what? have you no eyes in your head? Can you not distinguish -between mine, and these other common beauties? I could have Lovers -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 have you -beheld, any way answerable to mine, and are more fit for Gods, then -mortals. - -Many other idle speeches shee uttered, in proud opinion of her beauty, -whereby Friar _Albert_ presently perceived, 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. Neverthelesse, to shew himselfe an holy and religious man -now, he began to reprehend her, and told her plainely, that she was -vain-glorious, and overcome 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 -giving him divers 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 have some conference alone with her selfe; shee tooke him into a -private Parlour, 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 used to you the other day, -when you were with me at confession: because, the very night ensuing -thereon, I was chastised in such cruell manner, as I was never able -to stirre forth of my bed, untill this very instant morning; whereto -the weake witted Gentlewoman thus replyed. And who I pray you (quoth -she) did chastise you so severely? 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 devotion, according to my usuall 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 Quiver 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 reprove the celestiall beauty of Madam _Lisetta_, who (next to my -Mother _Venus_) I love most dearely. Whereupon I perceived, he was -the great commanding God _Cupid_, and therefore I craved most humbly -pardon of him. I will pardon thee (quoth he) but upon this condition, -that thou goe to her so soone as conveniently thou canst, and (by lowly -humility) prevaile 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 -elsee 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; conceived 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 severe correction; which that it may -no more be inflicted on you, I doe freely pardon you; yet with this -_proviso_, that you tell me, what the God elsee saide unto you; whereto -Fryar _Albert_ thus replyed. Madam, seeing you have so graciously -vouchsafed to pardon me, I will thankfully tell you all: but you must -be very carefull and respective, that whatsoever I shall reveale unto -you, must so closely be concealed, as no living creature in the World -may know it; for you are the onely happy Lady now living, and that -happinesse relieth on your silence and secrecie: with solemne vowes and -protestations shee sealed up 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 conversing with -you. But in regard he is a God, and meerely a spirit in forme, whereby -neither you or any elsee have 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, giving me charge also to know of you, when you shall -please to have him come, and in whose similitude you would have him -to come, whereof he will not faile; in which respect, you may justly -thinke your selfe to be the onely happy woman living, and farre beyond -all other in your good fortune. - -Mistris want-wit presently answered, shee was well contented, that God -_Cupid_ should love her, and she would returne the like love againe -to him; protesting withall, that wheresoever shee should see his -majesticall picture, she would set a hallowed burning Taper before it. -Moreover, at all times he should be most welcome to her, whensoever -hee would vouchsafe to visite her; for, he should alwayes finde her -alone in her private Chamber: on this condition, that his olde Love -_Psyches_, and all other beauties elsee whatsoever, 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 offensive to her. - -Madam (quoth Friar _Albert_) most wisely have you answered, & leave -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 prejudice -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 give him -entertainment, without any taxation of the world, or ill apprehension -of the most curious inquisition. Beside, a greater happinesse can never -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 joyes -of Lovers 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 severe punishment inflicted on him by God _Cupid_, for the -reproachfull speeches he had given 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 give him welcome to morrow in -the evening, 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 use of his wings, he then would flye in at your window, -and then you could not be able to see him. - -Upon this conclusion, _Albert_ departed, leaving _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 over with Starres, and spangles of Gold, a Bow and Quiver -of Arrowes, with wings also fastened to his backe behinde him, and all -cunningly covered with his Friars habit, which must be the sole meanes -for his safe passage. - -Having obtained licence of his Superiour, and being accompanyed with -an holy Brother of the Convent, yet ignorant of the businesse by him -intended; he went to the house of a friend of his, which was his usuall -receptacle, whensoever he went about such deeds of darkness. There -did he put on his dissembled habit of God _Cupid_, with his winges, -Bowe, and Quiver, in formall fashion; and then (clouded over with his -Monkes Cowle) leaves his companion to awaite his returning backe, while -he visited foolish _Lisetta_, according to her expectation, readily -attending for the Gods arrivall. - -_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 majesticke motion of his -body, wings, and bow, as if he had bene God _Cupid_, indeede converted -into a body much bigger of stature, then Painters commonly do describe -him, her wisedome was so overcome with feare and admiration, that she -fell on her knees before him, expressing all humble reverence unto him. -And he spreading his wings over 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 love and affection towards her. So -delicately was he perfumed with odorifferous favours, and so compleate -of person in his spangled garments, that she could do nothing elsee, -but wonder at his rare behaviour, reputing her felicity beyond all -Womens in the world, and utterly impossible to bee equalled, such was -the pride of her presuming. For he told her divers tales and fables, -of his awefull power among the other Gods, and stolne pleasures of his -upon the earth; yet gracing her praises above all his other Loves, 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, farre 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 them -you best please to terme him, closing his spangled winges together -againe behinde his backe, fastening also on his Bow and Quiver of -Arrowes, over-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 devout 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 with 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 Elves and Fairies, into the -floury fields about _Elisium_, where Lovers departed out of this life, -walk 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 joy and solace, that, how -long I continued there, or by what meanes I was 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 use -thereof to your service. 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 enjoy, and still are like to do, -by my pardoning your error, and granting the Gods accesse to me in your -shape: which as I envy not, so I wish you heereafter to be wiser, in -taking upon you to judge of beautie. Much other idle folly proceeded -from hir, which still he soothed to her contentment, and (as occasion -served) 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, -behaviour, amorous suters and servants, and generall opinion conceived -of their worth and merit; wherein _Lisetta_ was over-much conceyted -of her selfe, not admitting any other to be her equall. Among other -speeches, favouring of an unseasoned 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 deserve to -bee preferred before any other. As women are ambitious in their owne -opinions, so commonly are they covetous of one anothers secrets, -especially in matter of emulation, whereupon the Gossip thus replyed. -Beleeve 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, priviledges, how great and singular soever they be, -without they are knowen to others, beside such as do particularly enjoy -them; they carrie no more account, then things of ordinary estimation. -Whereas on the contrary, when any Lady or Gentlewoman hath some eminent -and peculiar favour, which few or none other can reach unto, and it is -made famous by generall notion: then do all women elsee admire and honour -her, as the glory of their kinde, and a miracle of Nature. - -I perceive Gossip said _Lisetta_ whereat you ayme, & such is my love -to you, as you should not lose your longing in this case, were I but -constantly secured of your secrecy, which as hitherto I have 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, never to reveale it to any living -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 favourites, men of fraile & -mortall conditions, whose natures are as subject to inconstancy, as -their very best endeavours dedicated to folly, as I could name no mean -number of our Ladies heere in _Venice_. But when Soveraigne deities -shal feele the impression of our humane desires, and behold subjects -of such prevailing 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 Love himselfe, conceived such -an extraordinary liking: as he hath abandoned his seate of supreme -Majesty, and appeared to me in the shape of a mortall man, with lively -expression of his amorous passions, and what extremities of anguish -he hath endured, onely for my love. 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 devotion towards me, hath given 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 (nevertheles) -she avouched with very vehement asseverations; fell instantly sicke of -womens naturall disease, thinking every 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, whom 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 themselves, 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 over-publikely discovered, -purposed to check and reprove _Lisetta_ for her indiscretion. And being -habited according to his former manner, his Friarly Cowle covering -al his former bravery, he left his companion where he used to stay, -and closely walked along unto 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 uncased himselfe, -and appeared like God _Cupid_, with his spangled wings displayed: -they rushed into the Chamber, and he having no other refuge, opened a -large Casement, standing directly over the great gulfe or River, 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. - -Recovering the further side of the River, he espied a light, & the -doore of an house open, wherein dwelt a poore man, whom he earnestly -intreated, to save 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 moved -to compassionate his distressed estate, laid him in his owne bed, -ministring such other comforts to him, as the time and his poverty -did permit; and day drawing on, he went about his businesse, advising -him to take his rest, and it should not be long till he returned. So, -locking the doore, and leaving the counterfeit God in bed, away goes the -poore man to his daily labour. The Brethren to _Lisetta_, perceiving -God _Cupid_ to bee fled and gone, and shee in melancholly sadnesse -sitting by them: they tooke up the Reliques he had left behind him, I -meane the Friars hood and Cowle, which shewing to their sister, and -sharply reproving her unwomanly behaviour: 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 divers crouds of people, and a generall rumor -noysed among them, that God _Cupid_ had beene that night with Madame -_Lisetta_, where being over-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 give him fifty ducates, -if hee would not betray him to _Lisettaes_ brethren. - -Upon the acceptation of this offer, the money being sent for, and paied -downe; there wanted nothing now, but some apt and convenient meanes, -whereby _Albert_ might safely be conveyed 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 advise you. We observe this day as a merry Festivall, & -it is lawfull for any one, to disguise a man in the skin of a Beare, -or in the shape of a savage man, or any other forme of better device. -Which being so done, he is brought upon S. _Marks_ market place, where -being hunted a while with dogs, upon 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 unknown; for it is without all question to the contrary, that the -Gentlewomans brethren, knowing your concealment in some one place or -other, will set such spies and watches for you throughout the City, as -you must needs be taken by them. - -Now, although it seemed a most severe 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 undergo what shape -the poore man pleased, which thus he ordered. Annointing his naked -body with Hony, he then covered it over with downy small Feathers, -and fastning a chaine about his necke, and a strange ugly vizard on -his face; hee gave him a great staffe in the one hand, and two huge -Mastive 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, every 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, whereto he chained his -savage 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 thereby unspeakable anguish. When the poore man saw, that there -needed no more concourse of people; pretending, as if he purposed to -let loose his Salvage 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 Love called _Cupid_, whom Poets feigned long -since to be a little boy, but now growne to manly stature. You see in -what manner he hath left his high dwelling, onely for the comfort of -our _Venetian_ beauties: but belike, the night-fogs over-flagging his -wings, he fell into our gulfe, and comes now to present his service to -you. No sooner had he taken off his vizard, but every 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 thereof -was carried to the Convent, 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 molestation and trouble of -the people; where imprisoning him in their house, severitie 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 evill actions dayly -committed, yet escaping uncredited: there will come a time at length, -for just discovering of all, that the good may shine in their true -luster of glory, and the bad sinke in their owne deserved shame. - - - - -_Three yong Gentlemen affecting three Sisters, fledde with them into_ -Candie. _The eldest of them (through jealousie) becommeth the death of -her Lover: The second, by consenting to the Duke of_ Candies _request, -is the meanes of saving 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 prevaile with their keepers, escaping from thence to_ -Rhodes, _where they died in great poverty._ - -The third Novell. - -_Heerein is declared, how dangerous the occasion is, ensuing by anger -and despight, in such as entirely love, especially, being injuried and -offended by them that they love._ - - -When the King perceived, that Madame _Pampinea_ had ended her -discourse; he sat sadly a prety while, without uttering one word, but -afterward spake thus. Little goodnesse appeared in the beginning of -this Novell, because it ministred occasion of mirth; yet the ending -proved 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 us a better tale, if possible it may be. She smiling, -thus answered the King: Sir, you are over-cruelly bent against poore -Lovers, in desiring, that their amourous processions should have harsh -and sinister concludings. Neverthelesse, in obedience to your severe -command, among three persons amourously perplexed, I will relate an -unhappy ending; whereas all may be saide to speede as unfortunately, -being equally alike, in enjoying the issue of their desires, and thus I -purpose for to proceede. - -Every vice (choise Ladies) as very well you know, redoundeth to the -great disgrace and prejudice, 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 us with full carrere, and draweth -us into unavoidable perils and dangers; in mine opinion, seemeth to -be that of choller or anger, which is nothing elsee, but a sudden and -inconsiderate moving, provoked by some received injury, which having -excluded all respect of reason, and dimde (with darke vapours) the -bright discerning sight of the understanding, enflameth the minde with -most violent furie. And albeit this inconvenience happeneth most to -men, and more to some few, then others; yet notwithstanding, it hath -been noted, that women have 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 have the lesser consideration, -and therefore not to be wondred at. For if we will advisedly observe, -we shall plainely perceive, that fire (even 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 us 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 themselves pleasing and full of content, to -those men with whom we are to live; 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 Novel, how the loves of -three young Gentlemen, and of as many Gentlewomen, came to fatall and -unfortunate successe, by the tempestuous anger of one among them, -according as I have formerly related unto you. - -_Marseilles_ (as you are not now to learne) is in _Provence_, 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 Civada_, 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 loves proceeding with such -secresie, as long time they enjoyed their hearts sweete contentment, -yet undiscovered 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 love, 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 releeve his poverty, by friendly furthering both their -love, 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 invited 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 -us, may render you some certaine assurance, of the constant love 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 travelled, -and now may soone be delivered of, if it may passe with your liking and -approbation. Let me then tell you, that except your speeches savour -of untruth, and your actions carry a double understanding, in common -behaviour both by night and day, you appeare to pine and consume away, -in the cordiall love you beare to two of the Sisters, as I suffer the -same afflictions for the third, with reciprocall requitall of their -dearest affection to us. Now, to qualifie the heate of our tormenting -flames, if you will condescend to such a course as I shall advise you, -the remedy will yeeld them equall ease to ours, and we may safely -enjoy the benefit of contentment. As wealth aboundeth with you both, -so doth want most extremely tyrannize over 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 us, where to -live at hearts ease upon your possessions; I durst engage my credite, -that all the Sisters, (not meanly stored with their Fathers treasure) -shall beare us company to what place soever we please. There each man -freely enjoying his owne dearest love, we may live like three brethren, -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, perceiving some hope how to enjoy their loves; 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 whatsoever, they would joyne with him in this determination, -and 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. Neverthelesse, opportunity proved so favourable to him, -that meeting with her at a private 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 have 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 advise, 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 every thing ready, -to depart from hence so soone, as with best convenient meanes we may be -enabled. - -_Restagnone_ being returned to _Folco_ and _Hugnetto_, who thought -every houre a yeere, to heare what would succeed upon 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. Having 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, under colour of venting Merchandises abroade; they -bought a nimble Pinnace, fortified with good strength and preparation, -and waited but for a convenient wind. On the other side, _Ninetta_, -who was sufficiently acquainted with the forwardnesse of her Sisters -desires and her owne; had so substantially prevailed 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 Jewelse, -wherewith escaping secretly out of the House; they came to the place -where their Lovers 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 arrived at _Geneway_. - -There being out of peril or pursuite, they all knit the knot of holy -wedlocke, and then freely enjoyed 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 provided themselves -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 elsee for their daily recreations, inviting their Neighbours, -and they them againe in loving manner; so that no Lovers could wish to -live 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 observe in -the like occasions, that although delights doe most especially please -us, yet they breed surfet, when they swell too over-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 invited to a Banket, hee saw there a beautifull -Gentle-woman of that Countrey, whose perfections pleasing him beyond -all comparison: hee laboured (by painfull pursuite) to win his purpose; -and meeting with her in divers private places, grew prodigall in his -expences upon her. This could not be so closely carried, but beeing -seene and observed by _Ninetta_, she became possessed with such -extreame jelousie, that hee could not doe any thing whatsoever, but -immediately he had knowledge of it: which fire, growing to a flame in -her, her patience became extreamely provoked, urging rough and rude -speeches from her to him, and daily tormenting him beyond power of -sufferance. - -As the enjoying of anything in too much plenty, makes it appeare -irkesome and loathing to us, and the deniall of our desires, do more -and more whet on the appetite: even so did the angry spleene of -_Ninetta_ proceede on in violence, against this newe commenced love -of _Restagnone_. For in succession of time, whether hee enjoyed the -embracements of his new Mistresse, or no: yet _Ninetta_ (by sinister -reports, but much more through her owne jealous imaginations) held it -for infallible, and to be most certaine. Heereupon, she fell into an -extreame melancholly, which melancholly begat implacable fury, and -(consequently) such contemptible disdaine: as converted her former -kindly love to _Restagnone_, into most cruell and bloudie hatred; yea, -and so strangely was reason or respect confounded in her, as no revenge -elsee but speedy death, might satisfie the wrongs shee imagined to -receive by _Restagnone_ and his Minion. - -Upon enquiry, by what meanes shee might best compasse her bloody -intention, she grew acquainted with a _Græcian_ woman, and wonderfully -expert in the compounding of poysons, whom shee so perswaded, by gifts -and bounteous promises, that at the length shee prevailed 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 -over-heated, and little dreamed on any such Treason conspired against -him by his Wife, she caused him to drinke a great draught thereof, -under pretence, that it was a most soveraigne 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 understood by _Folco, Hugnetto_ and their Wives, 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, never acting disaster so -closely, but as cunningly discovereth it againe: so it came to passe, -that within a few dayes following, the _Græcian_ woman, that had -delivered the poyson to _Ninetta_, for such another deede of damnation, -was apprehended even in the action. And being put upon the tortures, -among many other horrid villanies by her committed, she confessed the -empoysoning of _Restagnone_, and every particle thereto appertaining. -Whereupon, 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, & -upon examination, in maintainance of her desperate revenge; voluntarily -confessed the fact, and what elsee concerned the occasion of his death, -by the wrongs which hee had offered her. - -_Folco_ and _Hugnetto_ understanding 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 endeavour, to worke such meanes with the Duke, -that her life might not perish by fire, although she had most justly -deserved it; but all their attempts prooved to no effect, because the -Duke had concluded to execute justice. - -Heere you are to observe, 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 love and kindnesse, -whereto by no meanes she would listen or give 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 private 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 love. She -apparantly perceiving, that _Ninetta_ was not likely to live, 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 having an excellent -ingenious wit, quicke, and apprehensive in perillous occasions, shee -intended now to make a trial of over-reaching the lascivious 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 delivered out of prison, and in -safety at home in her house: hee should resort thither in some queint -disguise, and enjoy his long expected desire; but untill then she would -not yeeld. So violent was the Duke in the prosecution of his purpose, -that under colour of altering the manner of _Ninettaes_ death, not -suffering her to bee consumed by fire, but to be drowned, according -to a custome observed there long time, and at the importunity of her -Sister _Magdalena_, in the still silence of the night, _Ninetta_ -was conveyed into a sacke, and sent in that manner to the House of -_Folco_, the Duke following soone after, to challenge her promise. - -_Magdalena_, having acquainted her Husband with her vertuous intention, -for preserving 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 adverse to _Restagnone_, onely being -over-ruled likewise by jealousie, and perswaded in his rash opinion, -that the Duke had already dishonoured _Magdalena_, otherwise, he would -not have delivered _Ninetta_ out of prison. Mad fury gave further fire -to this unmanly perswasion, and nothing will now quench this violent -flame, but the life of poore _Magdalena_, suddenly sacrificed in the -rescue of her Sisters, such a divell is anger, when the understandings -bright eye is thereby abused. No credit might be given to her womanly -protestations, nor any thing seeme to alter his bloody purpose; but, -having 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 used these -dissembling speeches. - -Sister (quoth he) my wife hath advised, that I should speedily convey -you hence, as fearing the renewing of the Dukes fury, and your falling -againe into the hands of Justice: I have 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 service; departed thence presently with him, not taking -any farewell of her other Sister and her Husband. To the Sea-shore they -came, very weakely provided of monies to defray their charges, and -getting aboard the Barke, directed their course themselves knew not -whether. - -The amourous Duke in his disguise, having long daunced attendance at -_Folcoes_ doore, and no admittance of his entrance; angerly returned -backe to his Court, protesting severe revenge on _Magdalena_, if -she gave 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 love 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 -unwelcome; and although they were truly innocent, either in knowledge -of the horrid fact, or the departure of _Folco_ with _Ninetta_: yet -being unable to endure the tortures extremity, they made themselves -culpable by confession, and that they had hand with _Folco_ in the -murder of _Magdalena_. Upon 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 serve when any urgent -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 lived afterward in great distresse -and misery. The just vengeance of Heaven 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 driven backe on the Coast of _Candie_ againe, -where being apprehended, and brought to the City before the Duke, they -confessed their severall notorious offences, and ended their loathed -lives in one fire together. - -Thus the idle and loose love of _Restagnone_, with the franticke rage -and jealousie of _Ninetta_ and _Folco_, overturned 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 Novell. - -_In commendation of Justice betweene Princes; and declaring withal, -that neither feare, dangers, nor death it selfe; can any way daunt a -true and loyall Lover._ - - -Madam _Lauretta_ having concluded her Novel, and the company -complaining on Lovers misfortunes, some blaming the angry and jealous -fury of _Ninetta_, and every one delivering their severall opinions; -the King, as awaking out of a passionate perplexity, exalted his -lookes, giving a signe to Madam _Elisa_, that shee should follow next -in order, whereto she obeying, began in this manner. I have heard -(Gracious Ladies, quoth she) of many people, who are verily perswaded, -that Loves arrowes, never wound any body, but onely by the eyes lookes -and gazes, mocking and scorning such as maintaine that men may fall in -love by hearing onely. Wherein (beleeve me) they are greatly deceived, -as will appeare by a Novell which I must now relate unto you, and -wherein you shall plainely perceive, that not onely fame or report is -as prevailing as sight; but also hath conducted divers, to a wretched -and miserable ending of their lives. - -_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, leaving a sonne behind him, -named _Gerbino_, who, with much care and cost, was brought up by his -Grand-father, proving 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, deserving most to be respected, the renowned vertues, -and affability of this gallant Prince _Gerbino_, was understood 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 ever 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 deservings, won such -honourable entertainment in her understanding soule, that they were -most affectionately pleasing to her, and in capitulating (over and over -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 advancement. - -On the other side, the fame of her incomparable beauty, with addition -of her other infinite singularities beside; as the World had given -eare 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 understanding: that -he was no lesse enflamed with noble affection towards her, then she -expressed the like in vertuous opinion of him. Wherefore, awaiting -such convenient opportunity, when he might entreate license of his -Grandfather, for his owne going to _Thunis_, under colour of some -honourable occasion, for the earnest desire hee had to see her: he -gave charge to some of his especiall friends (whose affaires required -their presence in those parts) to let the Princesse understand, in such -secret manner as best they could devise, what noble affection he bare -unto her, devoting himselfe onely to her service. - -One of his chosen friends thus put in trust, being a Jeweller, a man -of singular discretion, and often resorting to Ladies for sight of his -Jewelles, winning like admittance to the Princesse: related at large -unto her, the honourable affection of _Gerbino_, with full tender of -his person to her service, 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 selfsame affection towards him; as a testimony -thereof, one of the very choisest Jewelse which she bought of him, shee -sent by him to the Prince _Gerbino_, it being received by him with such -joy and contentment, as nothing in the world could be more pleasing to -him. So that afterward, by the trusty carriage of this Jeweller, many -Letters and Love-tokens passed betweene them, each being as highly -pleased with this poore, yet happy kinde of entercourse, as if they had -seene & conversed with one another. - -Matters proceeding on in this manner, and continuing longer then their -love-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, perceyving, that not onely she should -be sent further off, by a large distance of way from her friend, but -also bee deprived utterly, of all hope ever to enjoy him. And if she -could have devised any meanes, either by secret flight from her Father, -or any way else to further her intention, she would have adventured it -for the Princes sake. _Gerbino_ in like manner hearing of this purposed -mariage, lived in a hell 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 private stealing her away from her -Fathers Court before: with these and infinite other thoughts, was he -incessantly afflicted, both day and night. - -By some unhappy accident or other, the King of _Thunis_ heard of this -their secret love, 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 convey his daughter thence to her marriage, and -fearing to be prevented by _Gerbino_: he sent to the King of _Sicily_, -to let him understand his determination, craving safe conduct from -him, without impeachment of _Gerbino_, or any one elsee, untill such -time as his intent was accomplished. King _Gulielmo_ being aged, and -never acquainted with the affectionat proceedings of _Gerbino_, nor any -doubtfull reason to urge this securitie from him, in a case convenient -to be granted: yeelded the sooner thereto right willingly, and as a -signale of his honourable meaning, he sent him his royall Glove, with a -full confirmation for his safe conduct. - -No sooner were these Princely assurances received, 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_, waiting for nothing elsee but best favouring windes. The yong -Princesse, who understood and saw all this great preparation; secretly -sent a servant of hers to _Palermo_, giving 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 gave 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 conceyved 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_, having heard this message from his divine -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 urgent necessitie, what -might best bee done. Notwithstanding, moved by the setled constancie of -his plighted Love, and the speeches delivered to him by the messenger -from the Princesse: to shew himselfe a man endued with courage, he -departed thence unto _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 -deceived: for, within few dayes after, the Ship (not over-swiftly -winded) came sailing neere to the place where they attended for her -arrivall; 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 have beene -reputed, I am perswaded, that there are some among you, who either -formerly have, or now instantly do feele, the all-commanding power of -Love, without which (as I thinke) there is not any mortall man, that -can have any goodnesse or vertue dwelling in him. Wherefore, if ever -you have bene amorously affected, or presently have any apprehension -thereof, you shall the more easily judge of what I now aime at. True -it is, that I do love, and love hath guided me to be comforted, and -manfully assisted by you, because in yonder Ship, which you see commeth -on so gently under saile (even as if she offered her selfe to be our -prize) not onely is the Jewell which I most esteeme, but also mighty -and unvalewable treasure, to be wonne without any difficult labour, or -hazard of a dangerous fight, you being men of such undauntable courage. -In the honour of which victory, I covet not any part or parcell, but -onely a Ladie, for whose sake I have undertaken these Armes, and freely -give you all the rest contained in the shippe. Let us set on them, -Gentlemen, and my dearest friends; couragiously let us assaile the -ship, you see how the wind favours us, and (questionlesse) in so good an -action, Fortune will not faile us. - -_Gerbino_ needed not to have 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, giving -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 upon the ship. But before the -Gallies could come neere her, they that had the charge and managing of -her, perceyving with what speede they made towards them, and no likely -meanes of escaping from them, resolvedly they stood uppon 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 adventure the fight. When -the Sarazines were thereof advertised, and understood 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 molested or assailed. In testimony whereof, -they shewed his Glove, avouching moreover, that neyther by force (or -otherwise) they would yeelde, or deliver 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 Glove. Wee have (quoth he) no Faulcon heere -now, to be humbled at the sight of your Glove: and therefore, if you -will not deliver the Lady, prepare your selves for fight, for we must -have 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_ perceyving, that -small benefite would redound to him, if he did not undertake some -other kinde of course: he tooke a small Pinnace, which purposely he -brought with him from _Sardignia_, and setting it on a flaming fire, -conveyd it (by the Gallies help) close to the ship. The Sarazines much -amazed thereat, and evidently perceiving, that eyther they must yeeld -or dy; brought their Kings daughter upon the prow of the ship, most -greevously 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 give her to thee, according to our bounden duty, and as thy perjury -hath justly deserved. - -This sight was not a little greevous to the Prince _Gerbino_, who -madded now with this their monstrous cruelty, and not caring what -became of his owne life, having lost her for whom hee onely desired -to live: not dreading their Darts, Arrowes, slinged stones, or what -violence else they could use against him; he leapt aboord their ship, in -despight of all that durst resist him, behaving himself there like a -hunger-starved 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 life 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 save, and suffering the Sea to swallow -the rest, _Gerbino_ returned unto his Gallies againe, nothing proud of -this so ill-gotten victory. - -Afterward, having recovered 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 _Ustica_, 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 injury, seeing no way whereby to deny him justice, it being urged -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 divert him by their earnest -importunity) pronounced the sentence of death on the Prince, and -commanded to have him beheaded in his presence; affecting rather, to -dye without an heire, then to be thought a King void of justice. So -these two unfortunate Lovers, never enjoying the very least benefite of -their long wished desires: ended both their lives in violent manner. - - - - -_The three Brethren to_ Isabella, _slew a Gentleman that secretly loved -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 usually set in; she watered it (a long while) -with her teares. Whereof her Brethren having intelligence; soone after -she dyed, with meere conceite of sorrow._ - -The fift Novell. - -_Wherein is plainly proved, that Love cannot be rooted uppe, by any -humane power or providence; especially in such a soule, where it hath -bene really apprehended._ - - -The Novell of Madame _Eliza_ being finished, and some-what commended -by the King, in regard of the Tragicall conclusion; _Philomena_ was -enjoyned to proceede next with her discourse. She beeing overcome -with much compassion, for the hard Fortunes of Noble _Gerbino_, and -his beautifull Princesse, after an extreame 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_ gave you -relation: yet (peradventure) it may proove to be no lesse pitifull. -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, lived in very good fame and repute. Their Father was -of _San Gemignano_, and they had a Sister named _Isabella_, young, -beautifull, and well conditioned; who, upon some occasion, as yet -remained unmaried. A proper youth, being a Gentleman borne in _Pisa_, -and named _Lorenzo_, as a trusty factor or servant, had the managing of -the Brethrens businesse and affaires. This _Lorenzo_ being of comely -personage, affable, and excellent in his behaviour, grew so gracious in -the eyes of _Isabella_, that shee affoorded him many very respective -lookes, yea, kindnesses of no common quality. Which _Lorenzo_ taking -notice of, and observing by degrees from time to time, gave over all -other beauties in the Citie, which might allure any affection from him, -and only fixed his heart on her, so that their love grew to a mutuall -embracing, both equally respecting one another, and entertaining -kindnesses, as occasion gave leave. - -Long time continued this amorous league of love, yet not so cunningly -concealed, but at the length, the secret meeting of _Lorenzo_ and -_Isabella_, to ease their poore soules of Loves oppressions, was -discovered by the eldest of the Brethren, unknowne to them who were -thus betrayed. He being a man of great discretion, although 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 urgent 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 evill acte -being (as yet) committed. And seeming, as if they knew not of their -love, had a wary eye still upon her secret walkes, awaiting for some -convenient time, when without their owne prejudice, or _Isabellaes_ -knowledge, they might safely breake off this their stolne love, which -was altogether against their liking. So, shewing no worse countenance -to _Lorenzo_, then formerly they had done, but imploying and conversing -with him in kinde manner; it fortuned, that riding (all three) to -recreate themselves 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 upon _Lorenzo_, slew -him, & afterward enterred his body, where hardly it could be discovered -by any one. Then they returned backe to _Messina_, & gave it forth (as -a credible report) that they had sent him abroad about their affaires, -as formerly they were wont to do: which every one verily beleeved, -because they knew no reason why they should conceite any otherwise. - -_Isabella_, living in expectation of his returne, and perceiving his -stay to her was so offensively 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 urgent affaires have you with him, that makes you so -impatient upon 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 -overthrow 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, shee checkt and reproved him for his so long absence. One night -amongst the rest, she being growen almost hopelesse, of ever seeing him -againe, having a long while wept and greevously lamented; her senses -and faculties utterly spent and tired, that she could not utter any -more complaints, she fell into a trance or sleepe; and dreamed, that -the ghost of _Lorenzo_ appeared unto her, in torne and unbefitting -garments, his lookes pale, meager, and staring: and (as she thought) -thus spake to her. My deare love _Isabella_, thou doest nothing but -torment thy selfe, with calling on me, accusing me for overlong -tarrying from thee: I am come therefore to let thee know, that thou -canst not enjoy 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 giving 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. Having obtained favour of her brethren, to ride a -dayes journey 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 love: they rode directly to the designed place, which being -covered with some store of dried leaves, and more deeply sunke then any -other part of the ground thereabout, they digged not farre, but they -found the body of murthered _Lorenzo_, as yet very little corrupted or -impaired, and then perceived the truth of her vision. - -Wisedome and government so much prevailed 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 have 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 have all, yet she would be -possessed of a part, & having brought a keene razor with her, by helpe -of the Nurse, shee divided the head from the body, and wrapped it up -in a Napkin, which the nurse conveyed into her lap, and then laide the -body in the ground again. Thus being undiscovered by any, they departed -thence, and arrived at home in convenient time, where being alone by -themselves in the Chamber: she washed the head over and over with her -teares, and bestowed infinite kisses thereon. - -Not long after, the Nurse having brought her a large earthen potte, -such as wee use to set Basile, Marjerom, Flowers, or other sweet -hearbes in, and shrouding the head in a silken Scarfe, put it into the -pot, covering it with earth, and planting divers rootes of excellent -Basile therein, which she never watered, but either with her teares, -Rose water, or water distilled from the Flowers of Oranges. This pot -she used continually to sitte by, either in her chamber, or any where -elsee: for she caried it alwaies with her, sighing and breathing foorth -sad complaints thereto, even as if they had beene uttered to her -_Lorenzo_, and day by day this was her continuall exercise, to the no -meane admiration of her bretheren, 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 savour. The neighbours noting this behaviour -in her, observing 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 understand the reason -of her so violent oppressions; but could not by any meanes prevaile -with her, or win any discovery by her Nurse, so faithfull was she in -secrecie to her. Her brethren also waxed wearie of this carriage in -her; and having very often reproved 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 have it restored againe, avouching that shee -could not live without it. - -Perceiving that she could not have the pot againe, she fell into an -extreame sicknesse, occasioned onely by her ceaselesse weeping: and -never urged she to have any thing, but the restoring of her Basile pot. -Her brethren grew greatly amazed thereat, because shee never called for -ought elsee beside; and thereupon were very desirous to ransacke the pot -to the very bottome. Having 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 unable to give over -mourning, dyed within a few dayes after. Thus have you heard the hard -fate 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 unkinde 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 resisting him vertuously: it came to the understanding of her -Father, who approved the innocence of his daughter, and compassed her -deliverance. But she afterward, being weary of all worldly felicities, -entred into Religion, and became a Nun._ - -The sixth Novell. - -_Describing the admirable accidents of Fortune; and the mighty -prevailing power of Love._ - - -The Novell which Madam _Philomena_ had so graciously related, was -highly pleasing unto the other Ladies; because they had oftentimes -heard the Song, without knowing who made it, or uppon 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 Novell, doth minister matter -to me, to make report of another Tale, wherein mention is made of two -severall dreames; which divined 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 unknowne to you, that it is, & -hath bene a generall passion, to all men and women living, to see -divers and sundry things while they are sleeping. And although (to -the sleeper) they seeme most certaine, so that when he awaketh, hee -judgeth the trueth of some, the likelyhood of others, and some beyond -all possibility of truth: yet notwithstanding, many dreames have bene -observed to happen, and very strangely have come to passe. And this -hath bene a grounded reason for some men, to give as great credit to -such things as they see sleeping, as they do to others usually waking. -So that, according unto their dreames, and as they make construction of -them, that are sadly distasted, or merrily pleased, even as (by them) -they either feare or hope. On the contrary, there are some, who will not -credit any dreame whatsoever, untill they be falne into the very same -danger which formerly they saw, and most evidently 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 prove not all to be true, we can best testifie -to our selves. And that they are not alwayes lyars, hath already -sufficiently bene manifested, by the discourse of Madame _Philomena_, -and as you shall perceive 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 favourable to us, and our visions flatter us with -prosperous successe: yet let us give no credence unto the best, nor -addicte our minds to them of contrary Nature. And now we will proceed -to our Novell. - -In the Citie of _Brescia_, there lived sometime a Gentleman, named -_Messer Negro da Ponte Cararo_, who (among many other children) -had a daughter called _Andreana_, yong and beautifull, but as yet -unmarried. It fortuned, that shee fell in love with a neighbour, named -_Gabriello_, a comely yong Gentleman, of affable complexion, and -graciously conditioned. Which love 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 used in marriage, -they maried themselves 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 -lovingly together, she seemed to see a thing blacke and terrible, which -sodainely issued forth of his body, but the shape thereof she could -not comprehend. It rudely seized upon _Gabriello_, & in despight of -her utmost strength (with incredible force) snatched him out of her -armes, and sinking with him into the earth, they never after did see -one another; whereuppon, overcome with extremity of greefe and sorrow, -presently shee awaked, being then not a little joyfull, 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 middst of the Garden. - -After some small familiar discourse passing betweene them, _Gabriello_ -demanded of her upon what occasion shee denied his comming thither the -night before, and by such a sodaine unexpected admonition? _Andreana_ -told him, that it was in regard of a troublesome dreame, wherewith 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 give any credit to idle -dreames: because (oftentimes) they are caused by excesse of feeding, -and continually are observed to be meere lies. For (quoth hee) if I -had any superstitious beleefe of dreames, I should not then have 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 loveliest and most pleasing beast that was ever -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 us (but whence, or how I could not imagine) seeming -halfe hunger-starved, and very ugly to look upon. 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 upon -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 -frivolous and idle search. What can be said then in these or the like -cases? Divers times I have had as ill seeming dreames, yea, and much -more to be feared: yet never any thing hurtfull to me followed thereon; -and therefore I have 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 give him no occasion of distast, she bare it -out in the best manner she could devise 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 upon his face, and throwing strange -lookes to all parts of the Garden, to catch hold on any such blacke -ugly 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 Love, or elsee I dye; and, -in speaking the words, fell downe uppon the ground. Which the yong -Damosell perceiving, 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 gave up the -ghost. How greevous this strange accident was to poore _Andreana_, -who loved him as deerely as her owne life: you that have felt loves -tormenting afflictions, can more easily conceive, then I relate. -Wringing her hands, & weeping incessantly, calling him, rubbing his -temples, and using all likely meanes to reduce life: she found all -her labour to be spent in vain, because he was starke dead indeed, -and every 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 sorrow. After they -had sighed and mourned awhile, over the dead body of _Gabriello, -Andreana_ in this manner spake to her maid. - -Seeing Fortune hath thus bereft me of my Love, mine owne life must -needs be hatefull to me: but before I offer any violence to my selfe, -let us devise some convenient meanes, as may both preserve mine honour -from any touch or scandall, and conceale the secret love passing -betweene us: 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, never talke of doing any violence -to your self, because by such a blacke and dismall deed, as you have -lost his kind company here in this life, so shall you never 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 fervent 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 never he hath bene seene by any, or his resorting hither -knowne, but onely to our selves. If you will not consent to have it so, -let you and I convey his bodye hence, and leave 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 give it honest buriall. - -_Andreana_, although her soule was extraordinarily sorrowfull, & teares -flowed abundantly from her eyes; yet she listned attentively to hir -maids counsell; allowing her first advice against desperation, to be -truly good; but to the rest thus she replied. God forbid (quoth she) -that I shold suffer so deare a loving friend, as he hath alwayes shewed -himselfe to mee; nay, which is much more, my husband; by sacred and -solemn vowes passed betweene us, to be put into the ground basely, and -like a dog, or elsee to be left in the open streete. He hath had the -sacrifice of my virgin teares, and if I can prevaile, he shall have -some of his kindred, as I have instantly devised, what (in this hard -case) is best to be done. Forthwith she sent the maid to her Chamber, -for divers elles of white Damaske lying in her Chest, which when she -had brought, they spread it abroad on the grasse, even in the manner of -a winding sheete, and therein wrapped the bodie of _Gabriello_, with -a faire wrought pillow lying under his head, having first (with their -teares) closed his mouth and eyes, and placed a Chaplet of Flowers on -his head, covering the whole shrowd over 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 -us two) he may be easily carried, even in this manner as we have -adorned him; where leaving 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 uttered 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 loving husband, if thy soule can see -my teares, or any understanding do remaine in thy body, being thus -untimely taken from me: receive the latest guifte thou gavest me, as a -pledge of our solemne and spotlesse marriage. So, making up the shroud -againe as it should be, and conveighing 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 availe me: -wherefore, I am ready to go along with you before the Seigneurie, and -there will 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 Objections. - -When notice heereof was given 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 divers Physitians, to be informed by them, whether the Gentleman -were poysoned, or otherwise murthered: but al of them affirmed the -contrary, avouching rather, that some impostumation had engendred neere -his heart, which sodainly breaking, occasioned his as sodaine death. -The Potestate hearing this, and perceiving 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, provoking -him to the immodest motion, that upon 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 reprooving him with many injurious speeches, such as -a lustfull Letcher justlie deserved. - -On the morrow morning, these newes being brought to her Father, _Messer -Negro da Ponte Cararo_; greeving thereat exceedingly, and accompanied -with many of his friends, he went to the Palace. Being there arrived, -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 -prove her, he had made such a motion to her, but finding her so firmly -vertuous, his love 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 have both seene and knowne them: rather most -humblie, I crave your pardon, for another error by me committed, in -that, both without your leave and liking, I accepted the man as my -troth-plighted husband, whom (above 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 favour; 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, observing what his daughter had saide: could not -refraine from teares, and in his weeping, lovingly tooke her from the -ground, speaking thus to her. - -Daughter, I could have wished, that thou hadst taken such an husband, -as (in my judgement) had bene best fitting for thee, and yet if thou -didst make election of one, answerable to thine owne good opinion & -liking: I have no just reason to be therewith offended. My greatest -cause of complaint, is, thy too severe concealing it from me, and the -slender trust thou didst repose in me, because thou hast lost him, -before I knew him. Neverthelesse, 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 have contented thee, -by making him my Sonne in Law, if he had lived; so I will expresse -the like love to him now he is dead. And so turning himself to his -kindred and friends, lovingly requested of them, that they would grace -_Gabriello_ with most honourable obsequies. - -By this time, the kindred and friends to the dead man (uppon noise of -his death bruited abroad) were likewise come to the Pallace, yea, most -of the men and women dwelling in the City, the bodie of _Gabriello_ -beeing laide in the midst of the Court, upon the white Damaske shrowde -given by _Andreana_, with infinite Roses and other sweet Flowers -lying thereon: and such was the peoples love to him, that never was -any mans death, more to be bemoaned and lamented. Being delivered -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 honour and -reverence. - -Within some few dayes after, the Potestate pursuing his former motion -of marriage, and the Father moving it to his daughter; she wold not -by any meanes listen thereto. And he being desirous to give her -contentment, delivered her and her Chamber-maid into a Religious Abbey, -very famous for devotion and sanctity, where afterwardes they ended -their lives. - - - - -_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 Justice, and charged with the death of_ -Pasquino: _she rubbed her teeth likewise with one of the leaves of the -same Sage, as declaring what shee saw him do: and thereon she dyed also -in the same manner._ - -The seaventh Novell. - -_Whereby is given to understand, that Love & Death do use their power -equally alike, as well upon poore and meane persons, as on them that -are rich and Noble._ - - -_Pamphilus_ having ended his Tale, the King declaring an outward shew -of compassion, in regard of _Andreanaes_ disastrous Fortune: fixed -his eye on Madam _Emillia_, and gave her such an apparant signe, as -expressed his pleasure, for her next succeeding in discourse; which -being sufficient for her understanding, thus she began: Faire assembly, -the Novel so lately delivered 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 lover in a Garden, -even so did shee of whome I am now to speake. And being brought before -the seate of Justice, 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 Love is -such (according as wee have 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 unto you, -either in all, or a great part of my Novell, whereto our Citie pleadeth -some title; though, by the diversity of our discourses, talking of so -many severall accidents; we have 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 lived 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 travell, & 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 dejected a spirit, but had both courage and sufficient vertue, -to understand the secret solicitings of love, and to distinguish -the parts of well deserving, both by private behaviour and outward -ceremony. As naturall instinct was her first tutor thereto, so wanted -she not a second maine and urging 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 behaviour, and gracefull -actions (in bringing her daily wooll to spin, by reason his master was -a Clothier) prevailed upon her liking and affection. - -Nor was he negligent in the observation of her amorous regards, but the -Tinder tooke, and his soule flamed with the selfe-same fire; making him -as desirous of her loving acceptance, as possibly she could bee of his: -so that the commanding power of love, could not easily be distinguished -in which of them it had the greater predominance. For, everie 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 conceyved of him, and earnest desire to enjoy him. -_Pasquino_ on the other side, as leysure gave him leave for the least -conversing with her: his disease was every way answerable to her, for -teares stood in his eyes, sighes flew abroad, to ease the poore hearts -afflicting oppressions, which though he was unable to conceale; yet -would hee seeme to clowd them cleanly, by entreating her that his -masters worke might be neatly 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 received -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, & over-much bashfulnesse became abandoned, yet no immodestie -passing betweene them: but affection grew the better setled in them -both, by interchangeable vowes of constant perseverance, so that death -onely, but no disaster elsee had power to divide them. Their mutuall -delight continuing on in this manner, with more forcible encreasing -of their Loves 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 converse -together, without the suspition of envious eyes. _Simonida_ gave answer -of her well-liking the motion, and acquainting her Father therewith, he -gave her leave, on the Sunday following after dinner, to go serch 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 usually tearmed _Strambo_) a secret -well-willer to _Lagina_, whose love became the more furthered by this -friendly meeting. Each Lover delighting in his hearts chosen Mistresse, -caused them to walke alone by themselves, as the spaciousnesse of the -Garden gave 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 themselves; 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 invite 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 over-spred with foule black spots, both on his face, handes, -and all parts elsee 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 uppon them, and -seeing _Pasquino_ lying dead, and hugely swoln, _Strambo_ likewise -complaining, and accusing _Simonida_ to have poysoned him; shee making -no answer, but standing in a gastly amazement, all her senses meerely -confounded, at such a strange and uncouth accident, in loosing him -whome she so dearely loved: knew not how to excuse her selfe, and -therefore every one verily beleeved, that _Strambo_ had not unjustly -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 justified by _Strambo, Lagina,_ and two men -more; the one named _Atticciato_, and the other _Malagevole_, fellowes -and companions with _Pasquino_, who came into the Garden also upon the -out-cry. - -The Judge, without any delay at all, gave 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 presence of _Simonida_, -hee desired to see the dead body, and the place where he fell downe -dead, because there he intended to have 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 avoid the -following of the turbulent multitude: they departed from the bench of -Justice, and came to the place, where _Pasquinoes_ body lay swolne like -a Tunne. Demanding there questions, concerning his behaviour, when they -walked there in conference together, and, not a little admiring the -manner of his death, while hee stood advisedly considering thereon. - -She going to the bed of Sage, reporting the whole precedent history, -even from the original to the ending: the better to make the case -understood, without the least colour of ill carriage towardes -_Pasquino_; according as she had seene him do, even 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_, having noted in what manner she used the Sage, and this -appearing as her utmost refuge, either to acquit or condemne her: -in presence of the Judge they smiled thereat, mocking and deriding -whatsoever 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 just punishment for her abhominable transgression. - -Poore _Simonida_, sighing and sorrowing for her deere loves losse, and -(perhappes) not meanly terrified, with the strict infliction of torment -so severely urged 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, even by the like accident as -_Pasquino_ formerly did, to the admirable astonishment of all there -present. - -Oh poore infortunate Lovers, whose Starres were so inauspicious to -you, as to finish both your mortall lives, and fervent love, in lesse -limitation then a dayes space. How to censure of your deaths, and -happines to ensue thereon, by an accident so straunge and inevitable: -it is not within the compasse of my power, but to hope the best, and -so I leave you. But yet concerning _Simonida_ her selfe, in the common -opinion of us that remaine living: her true vertue and innocency -(though Fortune was other wise most cruell to her) would not suffer -her to sinke under the testimony of _Strambo, Lagina, Atticciato_ -and _Malagevole_, 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 Judge standing amazed, and all there present in his companie, were -silent for a long while together: but, uppon better re-collection of -his spirits, thus he spake. This inconvenience which thus hath hapned, -and confounded our senses with no common admiration; in mine opinion -concerneth the bed of Sage, avouching it either to bee venomous, or -dangerously infected; which (neverthelesse) is seldom found in Sage. -But to the end, that it may not be offensive to any more heereafter, I -will have it wholly digd up by the rootes, and then to bee burnt in the -open Market place. - -Hereupon, the Gardiner was presently sent for, and before the Judge -would depart thence, he saw the bed of Sage digged up by the roots, -and found the true occasion, whereby these two poore Lovers lost their -lives. For, just in the middest of the bed, and at the maine roote, -which directed all the Sage in growth; lay an huge mighty Toad, even -weltring (as it were) in a hole full of poyson; by meanes whereof, in -conjecture of the Judge, and all the rest, the whole bed of Sage became -envenomed, occasioning every leafe thereof to be deadly in taste. None -being so hardie, as to approach neere the Toade, they made a pile -of wood directly over it, and setting it on a flaming fire, threw -all the Sage thereinto, 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 _Malagevole_, were buried together in one goodlie Monument, for a -future memory of their hard Fortune. - - - - -Jeronimo _affecting a yong Maiden, named_ Silvestra: _was constrained -(by the earnest importunity of his Mother) to take a journey to_ Paris. -_At his return home from thence againe, hee found his love_ Silvestra -_married. By secret meanes, he got entrance into her house, and dyed -upon the bed lying by her. Afterward, his body being carried to Church, -to receive buriall, she likewise died there instantly upon his coarse._ - -The eight Novell. - -_Wherein is againe declared, the great indiscretion and folly of them, -that think to constraine love, according to their will, after it is -constantly setled before: With other instructions, concerning the -unspeakeable power of Love._ - - -Madam _Emillia_ had no sooner concluded her Novell, 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 themselves to know more, then all other elsee 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 understanding, against infallible grounded reason, yea, and -to attempt courses, not only contrary to the counsell and judgment of -men, but also to crosse the nature of divine ordination. Out of which -fancy & ambitious presumption, many mighty harmes have already had -beginning, and more are like to ensue uppon such boldnesse, because it -is the ground of all evils. - -Now, in regard that among all other naturall things, no one is lesse -subject to take counsell, or can bee wrought to contrariety, then -Love, whose nature is such, as rather to run upon his owne rash -consumption, then to be ruled by admonitions of the very wisest: my -memory hath inspired itself, with matter incident to this purpose, -effectually to approve, what I have already said. For I am now to -speake of a woman, who would appeare to have more wit, then either -she had indeed, or appertained to her by any title. The matter also, -wherein she would needs shew hir studious judgement and capacity, was -of much more consequence then she could deserve to meddle withall. Yet -such was the issue of her fond presuming; that (in one instant) she -expelled both love, and the soule of her owne sonne out of his body, -where (doubtlesse) it was planted by divine favour 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 _Jeronimo_, and within a -short while after his birth, _Leonardo_ being very sicke, and having -setled al his affaires in good order; departed out of this wretched -life to a better. The Tutors and Governours of the Childe, thought -it fittest to let him live with his Mother, where he had his whole -education, though schooled among many other worthy neighbours children, -according as in most Cities they use to do. Yong _Jeronimo_ 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 neighbours -children, and much prety pastime they found together. - -In the harmlesse recreations of youth, graver judgements have often -observed, that some especiall matter received then such original, -as greater effect hath followed thereon. And many times, parents -and kindred have 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 -divers other such like kind tearmes, prooving afterwards to be true -indeede. It fell out so with our yong _Jeronimo_; for, among a number -of pretty Damoselse, daughters to men of especiall respect, and others -of farre inferiour qualitie: a Taylors daughter, excelling the rest -in favour and feature (albeit her Father was but poore) _Jeronimo_ -most delighted to sport withall; and no other titles passed betweene -them, even 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 conversing together, and enterchange of infinite pretty speeches: -_Jeronimo_ felt a strange alteration in his soule, with such enforcing -and powerfull afflictions; as he was never well but in her company, nor -she enjoyed any rest if _Jeronimo_ were absent. At the length, this -being noted by his Mother, she beganne to rebuke him, yea, many times -gave him both threatnings and blowes, which proving 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 upon a -blacke thorne, spake as followeth. - -This Sonne of mine _Jeronimo_, being as yet but fourteene years of age, -is so deeply enamored of a yong Girle, named _Silvestra_, daughter unto -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 us -procure her marriage to some other. Wherefore, I hold it good, that -to avoid so great an inconvenience, we shold send _Jeronimo_ 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 -utterly disappointed; his affection to her will the sooner ceasse, by -frustrating his hope for ever enjoying her, and so we shall have the -better meanes, to match him with one of greater quality. The Tutors -did like well of her advice, not doubting but it would take answerable -effect: and therefore, calling _Jeronimo_ into a private Parlour, one of -them began in this manner. - -_Jeronimo_, you are now growne to an indifferent stature, and (almost) -able to take government of your selfe. It cannot then seeme any way -inconvenient, 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 evermore remembred) and travaile would now seeme fitting -for you, as well to gaine experience in Traffick and Merchandize, as -also to let you see the worlds occurrences. Your Mother therefore (and -we) have thought it expedient, that you should journey from hence to -_Paris_, there to continue for some such fitting time, as may grant -you full and free opportunity, to survey what stocke of wealth is -there employed for you, and to make you understand, 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 civill -courses of life; rather then by continuing here to see none but Lords, -Barons, and Gentlemen, whereof wee have too great a number. When you -are sufficiently qualified there, and have 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 gave them attentive hearing, and (in few words) returned -them answer: That he would not give way to any such travaile, 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 -reproved him with many severe 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 journey -to _Paris_, as in regard of his violent affection to the Maide; gave -him very bitter and harsh language. All which availing nothing, she -began to speake in a more milde and gentle straine, entreating him -with flattering and affable words, to be governed in this case by -his Tutors good advise. And so farre (in the end) she prevailed with -him, that he yeelded to live at _Paris_ for the space of a yeare; but -further time he would not graunt, and so all was ended. - -_Jeronimo_ being gone to remain at _Paris_, his love daily increasing -more and more, by reason of his absence from _Silvestra_, under 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 love 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 love _Silvestra_, by the cunning compacting of -his Mother and Tutors, he found married to a Tent-makers Sonne; whereat -hee vexed and greeved beyond all measure. Neverthelesse, seeing the -case was now no way to bee holpen; hee strove to beare it with so much -patience, as so great a wrong, and his hearts tormenting greefe, would -give him leave to doe. - -Having found out the place where she dwelt, hee began (as it is the -custome of yong Lovers) to use divers 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 never seene him before. Or if she did any -way remember him, it appeared to be so little, that manifest signes -declared the contrary. Which _Jeronimo_ very quickely perceived, -albeit not without many melanchollie perturbations. Notwithstanding, -he laboured by all possible meanes, to recover her former kindnesse -againe: but finding all his paines frivouslie employed; he resolved 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 every part of the house, & -prevailed so far, that one evening, when she and her husband supt at -a neighbours house; he compassed accesse into the same bed chamber, -where _Silvestra_ used most to lodge. Finding the Curtaines ready -drawne, he hid himselfe behinde them on the further side of the bed, -and so tarried there untill _Silvestra_ and her husband were returned -home, and laide downe in bedde to take their rest. The husbands sences -were soone overcome with sleepe, by reason of his painefull toyling -all the day, and bodies that are exercised with much labour, are the -more desirous to have ease. She staying up last, to put out the light, -and hearing her husband sleepe so soundly, that his snoring gave good -evidence thereof: layed her selfe down the more respectively, as being -very loath any way to disease him, but sweetly to let him enjoy his -rest. - -_Silvestra_ lay on the same side of the bed, where _Jeronimo_ had hid -himselfe behinde the Curtaines; who stepping softly to her in the -darke, and laying his hand gently on her brest, saide: Deare Love, -forbeare a little while to sleepe, for heere is thy loyall friend -_Jeronimo_. The yong woman starting with amazement, would have 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 leave of -her. Alas _Jeronimo_ (quoth she) those idle dayes are past and gone, -when it was no way unseemly for our youth, to entertaine equality of -those desires, which then well agreed with our young blood. Since when, -you have lived 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 never heard the -least salutation from you. Now you know me to be a married wife, in -regard whereof, my thoughts have embraced that chaste and honourable -resolution, not to minde any man but my husband; and therefore, as -you are come hither without my love or license, so in like manner I -do desire you to be gone. Let this priviledge of my Husbandes sound -sleeping, be no colour to your longer continuing heere, or encourage -you to finde any further favour 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 have -both mutually embraced. - -The yong man, hearing these wordes, and remembring what loving -kindnesse he had formerly found, what secret love Letters hee had sent -from _Paris_, with other private intelligences and tokens, which never -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 upon the beds side by her, uttered these his very -last words. _Silvestra_ farewell, thou hast kilde the kindest heart -that ever loved a woman: and speaking no more, gave up the ghost. She -hearing these words delivered with an entire sighe, and deepe-fetcht -groane: did not imagine the strange consequence following thereon; -yet was mooved to much compassion, in regard of her former affection -to him. Silent shee lay an indifferent while, as being unable to -returne him any answer; and looking when he would be gone, according -as before she had earnestly entreated him. But when she perceyved him -to lye so still, as neither word or motion came from him, she saide: -Kinde _Jeronimo_, why doest thou not depart and get thee gone? So -putting forth her hand, it hapned to light upon his face, which she -felt to be as cold as yce: whereat marvelling not a little, as also -at his continued silence: shee jogged him, and felt his hands in like -manner, which were stiffely extended forth, and all his body cold, -as not having any life remaining in him, which greatly amazing her, -and confounding her with sorrow beyond all measure, shee was in such -perplexity, that the could not devise what to do or say. - -In the end, she resolved 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, unknowne 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 unexpected extremity, was, to take the dead body, and convey -it to his owne house, if he had any; whereby no scandall or reproach -would followe to them, in whose house he had so unfortunately dyed. -Heereupon, shee immediately arose, and lighting a candle, shewed him -the dead bodie of _Jeronimo_, with protestation of every particular, -both of her innocencie, either of knowledge of his comming thither, -or any other blame that could concerne her. Which hee both constantly -knowing and beleeving, made no more ceremonie, but putting on his -Garments, tooke the dead bodie upon 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 moved very much greefe and amazement, considering, he had bin seene -the day before, in perfect health to outward appearance. Nor neede we -to urge any question of his Mothers sorrow upon this straunge accident, -who, causing his body to bee carefully searched, without any blow, -bruise, wound, or hurt uppon it, the Physitians could not give 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 heavily by it, as many more did the -like beside, because he was beloved of every one. In which time of -universall mourning, the honest man (in whose house he dyed) spake -thus to his wife: disguise thyselfe in some decent manner, and go to -the Church, where (as I heare) they have laide the body of _Jeronimo_. -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. - -_Silvestra_, 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 advisedly we consider on the powerfull working of love; for -the heart of this woman, which the prosperous fortune of _Jeronimo_ -could not pierce, now in his wofull death did split in sunder; and the -ancient sparks of love 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 upon it: & even as extremity of greefe finished his life, so -did it hers in the same manner. For she moved neither hand not foot, -because her vitall powers had quite forsaken her. The women labouring -to comfort her by al the best means they could devise; did not take any -knowledge of her, by reason of her disguised garments: but finding her -dead indeede, and knowing her also to be _Silvestra_, being overcome -with unspeakable compassion, & danted with no meane admiration, they -stood strangely gazing each upon 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 -understanding, 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 _Silvestra_ and _Jeronimo_; by -which discourse, they generally conceived, the certaine occasion of -both their sodaine deaths, which moved 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 fortunes, they gave them -honourable buriall both in one grave. So, this poore couple, whome love -(in life) could not joyne together, death did unite in an inseparable -conjunction. - - - - -_Messer_ Guiglielmo _of_ Rossiglione _having slaine Messer_ Guiglielmo -Guardastagno, _whom hee imagined to love his wife, gave 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 Novell. - -_Whereby appeareth, what ill successe attendeth on them, that love -contrarie to reason: in offering injurie both to friendship and -marriage together._ - - -When the Novell of Madam _Neiphila_ was ended, which occasioned much -compassion in the whole assembly; the King who wold not infringe the -priviledge graunted to _Dioneus_, no more remaining to speake but -they two, began thus. I call to minde (gentle Ladies) a Novell, which -(seeing we are so farre entred into the lamentable accidents of -successelesse love) will urge you unto 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 respective quality; which approveth -the accident to bee more cruell, then those whereof wee have formerly -discoursed. - -According as the people of _Provence_ do report, there dwelt sometime -in that jurisdiction, 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 were both valiant Gentlemen, and singularly expert in actions of -Armes; they loved 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 five miles distant each from -other, yet were they dayly conversant together, as very loving 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 over-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 lovingly 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 love carried, that whether it -sorted to effect, or no, I know not: but the husband perceived some -such manner of behaviour, 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 converted -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 Just 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 thereon together, and for that purpose to -come and visit him, if he intended to have any hand in the businesse. -_Guardastagno_ being exceeding gladde of this accident, which gave 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 -upon this reply, projected to himselfe in what manner to kill him. - -On the morrow, after dinner, arming himselfe, and two more of his -servants 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 unarmed, as no way distrusting any such intended treason. -So soone as he was come to the place, where he had resolved to do the -deed; hee rushed forth of the ambush, and having a sharpe Lance readily -charged in his rest, ran mainly at him, saying: False villain, thou art -dead. _Guardastagno_, having nothing wherewith to defend himselfe, nor -his servants able to give 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 usually worne. - -_Messer Guiglielmo Rossiglione_, alighting from his horse, and having -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 never 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; mervailing at his so long tarrying, -saide to her husband. Beleeve me Sir (quoth she) me thinkes it is -somewhat strange, that _Messer Guiglielmo Guardastagno_ delayes his -comming so long, he never used to do so til now. I received 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 -used no more words. - -_Rossiglione_ leaving his Lady, went into the Kitchin, where calling -for the Cooke, he delivered 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 devise to doe; which being so -done, when I am set at the Table, send it to me in a silver dish, -with sauce beseeming so dainty a morsell. The Cooke tooke the heart, -beleeving it to be no otherwise, then as his Lord had saide: and using -his utmost skill in dressing it, did divide 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 -provoked her with many faire speeches, to tast the Cooks cunning in so -rare a dish. - -The Lady having 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 perceyved that all was eaten, he said unto -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 never better pleased. Now -trust mee Madam, answered the Knight, I doe verily beleeve you, nor -do I greatly wonder thereat, if you like that dead, which you loved -so dearly being alive. 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 have made me to eate? Muse no longer (said he) for -therein I will quickly resolve thee. Thou hast eaten the heart of -_Messer Guiglielmo Guardastagno_, whose love 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 unpleasing 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 have done -a most disloyall and damnable deede, misguided by your owne wicked -jealous opinion, and not by any just cause given you, to murther so -worthie and Noble a Gentleman. I protest unto you uppon my soule, which -I wish to bee confounded in eternall perdition, if ever I were unchaste -to your bedde, or allowed him any other favour, 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_; never -shall any other foode heereafter, have entertainment there, or my selfe -live the Wife to so bloody a husband. - -So starting uppe from the Table, and stepping unto 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 shivered her -bodie into many peeces. Which _Rossiglione_ perceyving, 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 -over-credulous conceit. - -Uppon further conference with his private thoughtes, and remorsefull -acknowledgement of his heinous offence, which repentance (too late) -gave him eyes now to see, though rashnesse before would not permit him -to consider; these two extreamities inlarged his dulled understanding. -First, he grew fearfull of the friends and followers to murdered -_Guardastagno_, as also the whole Countrey of _Provence_, in regarde of -the peoples generall love unto him; which being two maine and important -motives, both to the detestation of so horrid an acte, and immediate -severe revenge to succeed thereon: hee made such provision as best hee -could, and as so sodaine a warning would give leave, hee fled away -secretly in the night season. - -These unpleasing newes were soone spread abroad the next morning, not -only of the unfortunate accidents, but also of _Rossigliones_ flight; -in regard whereof, 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 befall -them, they were honourably enterred in one faire Tombe, with excellent -Verses engraven thereon, expressing both their noble degree, and by -what unhappy meanes, they chanced to have buriall there. - - - - -_A Physitians wife laide a Lover of her Maids (supposing him to bee -dead) in a Chest, by reason that he had drunke water, which usually was -given to procure a sleepy entrancing. Two Lombard Usurers, 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 -Justice, accuseth her selfe for putting the imagined dead body into the -Chest, by which meanes he escapeth hanging. And the theeves which stole -away the Chest, were condemned to pay a great summe of money._ - -The tenth Novell. - -_Wherein is declared, that sometime by adventurous accident, rather -then anie reasonable comprehension, a man may escape out of manifold -perilles, but especially in occurrences of Love._ - - -After that the King had concluded his Novell, 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 unfortunate Love, as all of you have 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 up 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 humour, 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 Novell which may minister a -more joviall kinde of argument, unto those tales that must bee told to -morrow, and with the expiration of our present Kings reigne, to rid us -of all heart-greeving heereafter. - -Know then (most gracious assembly) that it is not many yeares since, -when there lived in _Salerne_, a verie famous Physitian, named Signieur -_Mazzeo della Montagna_, who being already well entred into years, -would (neverthelesse) marrie with a beautifull young Mayden of the -Cittie, bestowing rich garments, gaudie attyres, Ringes, and Jewelles -on her, such as few Women elsee could any way equall, because hee -loved her most deerely. Yet being an aged man, and never remembering, -how vaine and idle a thing it is, for age to make such an unfitting -Election, injurious 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 unequall choyses, Parents commonly are more -blame-woorthie, then any imputation, to bee layde on the young Women, -who gladdely would enjoy such as in heart they have elected: but -that their Parents, looking thorough the glasses of greedie lucre, -doe overthrow both their owne hopes, and the faire fortunes of their -children together. - -Yet to speake uprightly 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 urging 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 services -(seeming compassionate of the womans disaster) are usually the cause of -jealous suspitions, & very heinous houshold discontentments. - -Among divers other, that faine would bee nibling at this bayte of -beautie, there was one, named _Ruggiero de Jeroly_, 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 -utterly gave him over to his dissolute courses: so that, thoroughout -all _Salerne_, his conditions caused his generall contempt, and hee -accounted no better, but even as a theeving and lewde companion. -The Doctours Wife, had a Chamber-maide attending on her; who, -notwithstanding all the ugly 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_ having this benefite of the Maides kinde love to him, made -it an hopefull mounting Ladder, whereby to derive 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 unable by any perswasions to remoove -her, tooke knowledge of _Ruggieroes_ privat resorting to hir house, -and in meere love to her Maide (who had very many especiall deservings -in her) oftentimes she would (in kinde manner) rebuke him, and advise -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 Silver, 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 elsee 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 judgement having 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 elsee the Pacient -must needes dye: yet he intended so to order the matter, that the -perrill should proceede no further, to prejudice any other part of -the bodie. The case beeing thus resolved on with the Pacient and -his Friends, the day and time was appointed when the deede should -be done: and the Doctor conceyving, 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 receyved it) it -will procure a kinde of dead sleepe, and endure so long a space, as -necessity requireth the use 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) up to the brimme; and till the time came when -hee should use it; hee set it in his owne Chamber-Windowe, never -acquainting any one, to what purpose he had provided the water, nor -what was his reason of setting it there; when it drew towards the -evening, 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 divers were very dangerously -wounded on either side, and without his speedy repairing thither, it -would prove to the losse of many lives. Heereupon, the cure of the mans -leg must needs bee prolonged, untill 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 small Barke, and forthwith set away towards _Malfy_. - -This absence of Master Doctor _Mazzeo_, gave opportunity to adventurous -_Ruggiero_, to visite his house (he being gone) in hope to get more -Crownes, and courtesie from the Mistresse, under formall colour of -courting the Maide. And being closely admitted into the house, when -divers 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 leave, 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 use of drinking, which maketh men unable any long while to -abstain, as being never satisfied with excesse; which of these two -extreams they were, I know not: but drink needs hee must. And, having -no other meanes for quenching his thirst, espied the glasse of water -standing in the Window, and thinking it to be some soveraigne kinde -of water, reserved 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 every 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 unlocking 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 mooved, or answered one word, whereat her patience being -some what provoked, 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 elsee she could -devise to do, yet all her labour proving still in vaine: she was almost -beside her wits, stamping and raving all about the roome, as if sence -and reason had forsaken her; so violent was her extreame distraction. - -Upon 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 advisedly 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 -love to this unruly fellow that can sway the censure of the monster -multitude, in beleeving his accesse hither onely to thee: but my good -name, and honest repute, as yet untoucht with the very least taxation, -will be rackt on the tenter of infamous judgement, and (though never so -cleare) branded with generall condemnation. It is wisedome therefore, -that we should make no noise but (in silence) consider with our selves, -how to cleare the house of this dead body, by some such helpfull and -witty device, as when it shall bee found in the morning, his being -heere may passe without suspition, and the worlds rash opinion no way -touch us. - -Weeping and lamenting is now laid aside, and all hope in them of his -lives 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 evening, although it was very late, at our -next Neighbours doore (who you know is a Joyner 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 remooved: and -if the owner have not lockt it, all invention elsee cannot furnish us -with the like help. For therein will we lay his body, whereon I will -bestow two or three wounds with my Knife, and leaving 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. Moreover, 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 favouring -the deed. - -The Maids counsell past under the seale of allowance, only her Mistris -thought it not convenient, that (having 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 conveied 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 -unlockt, whereof they were not a little joyfull. By the helpe of her -Mistresse, the Maide tooke _Ruggiero_ upon her shoulders, and bringing -him to the doore, with diligent respect that no one could discover -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 Joyner, dwelt two yong men -who were Lombards, living uppon the interest of their moneyes, coveting -to get much, and spend little. They having observed where the chest -stood, and wanting a necessary mooveable 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 heavy, and therefore imagining, that matter of -woorth was contained therein. In the chamber where their wives 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 recoverd -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 divers dayes and nights afterward. Having his -eies wide open, & yet not discerning any thing, he stretched forth -his armes every 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 up in a chest. What shold I thinke heereof? Is master Doctor -returned home, or hath some other inconvenience 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 have done, -because his lying in the bare Chest was somewhat uneasie and painfull -to him; turning divers times on the one side, and then as often again -on the other, coveting 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 un-even 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 overcome with feare, -that they had not the power to speake one word. _Ruggiero_ also being -affrighted with the Chests fall, and perceiving 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 up 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 -justling 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, Theeves, Theeves. -The neighbours arose upon this outcry, running up and downe from place -to place, some engirting the house, and others entering into it: by -means of which troublesome noise, the two Lombards awaked, and seizing -there uppon 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 -uproare, were come into the house, and had poore _Ruggiero_ committed -unto their charge: who bringing him before the Governor, 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, never -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 Governor gave him sentence to be -hanged. - -Soone were the newes spread throughout _Salerne_, that _Ruggiero_ was -apprehended, about robbing the house of the two usuring Lombardes: -which when Mistresse Doctor and her Chamber-maide heard, they were -confounded with most straunge admiration, and scarsely credited -what they themselves 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 _Mazzeo_ 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 never 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 us 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 -conceived, 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. Beleeve me Sir, you never acquainted us with any -such matter, which would have procured more carefull respect of it: but -seeing it is gone, 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 understand 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 perceive, he hath neither Kinsman nor Friend that will -doe any thing for him; but he is left with the Provost, and must be -executed to morrow morning. Moreover Mistresse, by such instructions as -I have received, I can well-neere informe you, by what meanes hee came -to the two Lombards house, if all be true that I have heard. - -You know the Joyner 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 whereof, they -are readie to quarrell extremly each with other. For the one owning -the Chest, and trusting the Joyner to sell it for him, would have -him to pay him for the Chest. The Joyner denieth any sale thereof, -avouching, 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 usurers, 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 Joyner gave him the -lye, because he never 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, even as I returned home. Wherefore Mistresse, as you may easily -perceive, _Ruggiero_ was (questionlesse) carried thither in the chest, -and so there found; but how he revived againe, I cannot comprehend. - -The Mistresse understanding now apparantly, the full effect of the -whole businesse, and in what manner it had bene carried, revealed 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, howsoever (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 behaviour 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 advise her with some -such happy course, as might bee the safety of poore _Ruggieroes_ -life. Mistresse Doctor, affecting her maide dearely, and plainly -perceiving, that no disastrous fortune whatsoever, could alter her love -to condemned _Ruggiero_; hoping the best heereafter, as the Maide her -selfe did, and willing to save life rather then suffer it to be lost -without just cause, she directed her in such discreet manner, as you -will better conceyve 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 over-much offended him. As how? said Master Doctor. In this -manner (quoth the Maid) and thus proceeded. You are not ignorant -Sir, what a leud liver _Ruggiero de Jeroly_ is, and notwithstanding -all his imperfections, how dearely I love him, as hee protesteth the -like to me, and thus hath our love continued a yeare, and more. You -beeing gone to _Malfy_, and your absence granting me apt opportunity, -for conference with so kinde a friend; I made the bolder, and gave -him entrance into your house, yea even 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 unable 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 have heard your discontentment for the said Water, -and confesse my fault to you therein: but who liveth so justly, -without offending at one time or other? And I am heartily sorry for -my transgression; yet not so much for the water, as the hard fortune -that hath followd thereon; because thereby _Ruggiero_ is in danger -to lose his life, and all my hopes are utterly 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 devise. - -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 have paide thee with -deserved repentance, upon thy Mistresses finding thee sleeping. But -go and get his deliverance if thou canst, with this caution, that if -ever heereafter he be seene in my house, the peril thereof shall light -on thy selfe. Receyving this answer, for her first entrance into the -attempt, and as her Mistris had advised her, in all hast shee went to -the prison, where shee prevailed so well with the Jaylor, that hee -granted her private conference with _Ruggiero_. She having instructed -him what he should say to the Provost, if he had any purpose to escape -with life; went thither before him to the Provost, 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 have apprehended _Ruggiero de Jeroly_, as a -theefe, and judgement 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 every -circumstance, from the originall to the end: relating truly, that being -her Lover, 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 Joyner, and -him that laide claime to the Chest, giving him to understand thereby, -how _Ruggiero_ was taken in the Lombards house. - -The Provost 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 upon what occasion he prepared it. Then the Joyner, the owner of -the Chest, and the two Lombards, being severally questioned withall: -it appeared evidently, that the Lombards did steale the chest in the -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 _Mazzeo 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 Provost had heard all their answers, which he caused them to -repeate over divers 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 given 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 love of all his kindred, -and lived in most Noble condition, even as if he had never beene the -disordered man. - -If the former Novelse had made all the Ladies sad and sighe, this last -of _Dioneus_ as much delighted them, as restoring them to their former -jocond humour, and banishing Tragicall discourse for ever. The King -perceyving that the Sun was neere setting, and his government as neere -ending, with many kinde and courteous speeches, excused himselfe to -the Ladies, for being the motive of such an argument, as expressed -the infelicity of poore Lovers. And having finished his excuse, up 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 proved 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 sorrow which they have this day -endured. - -Madame _Fiammetta_, whose lockes of haire were curled, long, and -like golden wiers, hanging somewhat downe over her white & delicate -shoulders, her visage round, wherein the Damaske Rose and Lilly -contended for priority, the eyes in her head, resembling those of the -Faulcon messenger, 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 have done -hitherto: I will and commaund, that generall preparation bee made -against to morrow, for faire and happy fortunes hapning to Lovers, -after former cruell and unkinde 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 gave leave unto the -whole company (who were all risen) to go recreate themselves until -supper time. Some of them walked about the Garden, the beauty whereof -banished the least thought of wearinesse. Others walked by the River -to the Mill, which was not farre off, and the rest fel to exercises, -fitting their own fancies, untill they heard the summons for Supper. -Hard by the goodly Fountaine (according to their wonted manner) they -supped altogether, and were served 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 -observed by my predecessors, but even as they have already done, so -it is my authority, to command a Song. And because I am well assured, -that you are not unfurnished of Songs answerable to the quality of -the passed Novelse: my desire is, in regard we would not be troubled -heereafter, with any more discourses of unfortunate Love, 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 prove, - How justly that poore heart hath cause to greeve, - Which (under trust) findes Treason in his love. - - When first I saw her, that now makes me sigh, - Distrust did never enter in my thoughts. - So many vertues clearly shin'd in her, - That I esteem'd all martyrdome was light - Which Love could lay on me. Nor did I greeve, - 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 strove to get forth of the snare, - I found myselfe 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 helse of heavy woes, - Not utterable. I curst the day and houre - When first I saw her lovely 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 moove, to speake I was affrayde. - My teares do, &c. - - Thou canst (thou powerfull God of Love) perceive, - My ceasselesse sorrow, 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 Love 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 joyes, - Come, take me quickly from so false a friend. - Yet in my death, let thy great power approve, - That I died true, and constant in my Love. - 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) themselves do sigh too late. - Learne Lovers learne, what tis to be unjust, - And be betrayed where you repose best trust._ - - Finis - -The words contained in this Song, did manifestly declare, what -torturing afflictions poore _Philostratus_ felt, and more (perhaps) -had beene perceived 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 up into her face. But the Song being -ended, & divers 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 under the Governement of the -most Noble Lady_ Fiammetta: _Concerning such persons, as have bene -successefull in their Love, 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, until the Sunne were risen a little higher. On many -pleasant matters they conferred together, as they walked in severall -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 arrived, shee commanded, that after this mornings walking, their -stomackes should bee refreshed with wholsome Wines, as also divers -sorts of banquetting stuffe. Afterward, they all repaired into the -Garden, not departing thence, untill the houre of dinner was come: at -which time, the Master of the houshold, having prepared every 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 divers dances, and -afterward voyces to their instruments, with many pretty Madrigals and -Roundelayes. Uppon the finishing of these delights, the Queene gave -them leave to take their rest, when such as were so minded, went to -sleep, others solaced themselves in the Garden. But after midday was -overpast, 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 upon _Pamphilus_, shee bad him begin -the dayes discourses, of happy successe in love, after disastrous and -troublesome accidents; who yeelding thereto with humble reverence, thus -began. - -Many Novelse (gracious Ladies) do offer themselves 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 above 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 Love are, deserving to bee both admired and reverenced. -Albeit there are many, who scarsely knowing what they say, do condemne -them with infinite grosse imputations: which I purpose to disprove, & -(I hope) to your no little pleasing. - - - - -Chynon, _by falling in love, became wise, and by force of Armes, -winning his faire Lady_ Iphigenia _on the Seas, was afterward -imprisoned at_ Rhodes. _Being delivered by one named_ Lysimachus, _with -him he recovered his_ Iphigenia _againe, and faire_ Cassandra, _even -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 Novell. - -_Wherein is approved, that Love (oftentimes) maketh a man both wise and -valiant._ - - -According to the ancient Annales of the _Cypriots_, there sometime -lived in _Cyprus_, a Noble Gentleman, who was commonly called -_Aristippus_, and exceeded all other of the Countrey in the goods -of Fortune. Divers children he had, but (amongst the rest) a -Sonne, in whose birth he was more infortunate then any of the rest; -and continually greeved, in regard, that having 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 judgement; being (indeed) a meere Ideot -or Foole, and no better hope to be expected of him. His true name, -according as he receyved it by Baptisme, was _Galesus_, but because -neyther by the laborious paines of his Tutors, indulgence, and faire -endeavour of his parents, or ingenuity of any other, he could bee -brought to civility of life, understanding of Letters, or common -cariage of a reasonable creature: by his grosse and deformed kinde of -speech, his qualities also savouring rather of brutish breeding, then -any way derived from manly education; as an epithite of scorne and -derision, generally, they gave him the name of _Chynon_, which in their -native Countrey language, and divers other beside, signifieth a very -Sot or Foole, and so was he termed by every one. - -This lost kinde of life in him, was no meane burthen of greefe unto his -Noble Father, and all hope being already spent, of any future happy -recovery, he gave command (because he would not alwayes have such a -sorrow in his sight) that he should live 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 behaviour -pleased him beyond the Cities civility. _Chynon_ living thus at his -Fathers Countrey Village, exercising nothing elsee but rurall demeanour, -such as then delighted him above all other: it chanced upon a day about -the houre of noone, as hee was walking over the fields, with a long -Staffe on his necke, which commonly he used 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 leaves fairely -shot forth. - -When he had walked thorow the thicket, it came to passe, that (even as -if good Fortune guided him) he came into a faire Meadow, on everie side -engirt with Trees, and in one corner thereof stoode a goodly Fountaine, -whose current was both coole and cleare. Harde by it, uppon 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 unto her, of interwoven delicate silke, and at her feete lay two -other Damoselse sleeping, and a servant in the same manner. No sooner -hadde _Chynon_ fixed his eie upon her, but he stood leaning uppon his -staffe, and viewed her very advisedly, without speaking a word, and -in no mean admiration, as if he had never seene the forme of a woman -before. He began then to feele in his harsh rurall understanding (where -into never till now, either by painfull instruction, or all other good -meanes used to him, any honest civility 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 ever any -living 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 (above all) her brests, appearing (as yet) but onely -to shewe themselves, like two little mountainets. So that, of a fielden -clownish lout, he would needs now become a judge of beauty, coveting -earnestly in his soule, to see her eyes, which were veiled over 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 judgement, she excelled all the women that ever 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 -conceive of divine and celestiall things, and that they were more to be -admired & reverenced, then those of humane or terrene consideration; -wherefore the more gladly he contented himselfe, to tarry til she -awaked of her owne accord. And although the time of stay seemed tedious -to him, yet notwithstanding, he was overcome 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 up her head, with her eyes wide open, shee saw -_Chynon_ standing before her, leaning still on his staffe; whereat -mervailing not a little, she saide unto 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 -observe them with a constant regard, as being perswaded in his soule, -that from them flowed such an unutterable singularity, as he had never -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 servant, and they all being risen, she -saide. Farewell _Chynon_, I leave 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 incivility from him: yet could she not devise any way to be rid of -him, til he had brought her to her owne dwelling, where taking leave -mannerly of her, hee went directly home to his Fathers house, saying; -Nothing should compel him to live any longer in the muddy Countrey. And -albeit his Father was much offended heereat, and all the rest of his -kindred and friends: (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 never any civil -instruction could before get entrance) with loves piercing dart, by -the bright beauty of _Iphigenia_, mooved much admiration (falling from -one change to another) in his Father, Kindred, and all elsee 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 civill youths, observing -also the cariage of Gentlemen, especially such as were amorously -enclined: he grew to a beginning in short time (to the wonder of every -one) not onely to understande the first instruction of letters, but -also became most skilfull, even amongest them that were best exercised -in Philosophie. And afterward, love to _Iphigenia_ being the sole -occasion of this happy alteration, not only did his harsh and clownish -voyce convert 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 love, -but hee became generally knowne, to bee the most civil, wise, and -worthy Gentleman, as well for all vertues enriching the minde, as any -whatsoever 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 elsee, but that those high and divine vertues, infused -into his gentle soule, were by envious Fortune bound and shut uppe -in some small angle of his intellect, which being shaken and set at -liberty by love, (as having a farre more potent power then Fortune, -in quickning and reviving the dull drowsie spirits); declared his -mighty and soveraigne Authority, in setting free so many faire and -precious vertues unjustly detayned, to let the worlds eye behold them -truly, by manifest testimony, from whence he can deliver those spirits -subjected to his power, & guide them (afterward) to the highest degrees -of honour. And although _Chynon_ by affecting _Iphigenia_, failed in -some particular things; yet notwithstanding, his Father _Aristippus_ -duely considering, that love had made him a man, whereas (before) he -was no better then a beast: not only endured all patiently, but also -advised him therein, to take such courses as best liked himselfe. -Neverthelesse, _Chynon_ (who refused to be called _Galesus_, which was -his naturall name indeede) remembring that _Iphigenia_ tearmed him -_Chynon_, and coveting (under that title) to accomplish the issue of -his honest amorous desire: made many motions to _Ciphæus_ the Father of -_Iphigenia_, that he would be pleased to let him enjoy her in marriage. -But _Ciphæus_ 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 divine 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 have her I will, or loose my life in the adventure. -Beeing thus resolved, he prevailed with divers young Gentlemen his -friends, making them of his faction, and secretly prepared a Shippe, -furnished with all things for a Navall fight, setting sodainly forth -to sea, and hulling abroad in those parts by which the vessell should -passe, that must convey _Iphigenia_ to _Rhodes_ to her husband. -After many honours done to them, who were to transport her thence unto -_Rhodes_, being imbarked, they set saile uppon 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 elsee determine to be sunke in the Sea. The -enemies to _Chynon_, being nothing danted with his words, prepared to -stand upon their own defence; which made _Chynon_, after the former -speeches delivered, 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 vesselse joyned 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 having his sword ready drawne in his hand -(incited by the vertue of unfaigned love) layed about him on all sides -very manfully. Which when the men of _Rhodes_ perceyved, calling downe -their weapons, and all of them (as it were) with one voice, yeelded -themselves 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 mooved me, is a matter highly -importing to me, and very easie for you to graunt, and so enjoy your -present peace. I desire to have faire _Iphigenia_ from you, whom I love -above all other Ladies living, because I could not obtain her of her -Father, to make her my lawfull wife in marriage. Love is the ground of -my instant Conquest, and I must use you as my mortall enemies, if you -stand uppon any further tearmes with me, and do not deliver her as mine -owne: for your _Pasimondo_, must not enjoy what is my right, first by -vertue of my love, & now by conquest: Deliver her therefore, and depart -hence at your pleasure. - -The men of _Rhodes_, being rather constrained thereto, then of any -free disposition in themselves; with teares in their eyes, delivered -_Iphigenia_ to _Chynon_; who beholding her in like manner to weepe, -thus spake unto her. Noble Lady, do not any way discomfort your selfe, -for I am your _Chynon_, who have more right and true title to you, and -much better doe deserve to enjoy 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 gave her kinde welcome, without touching -any thing elsee belonging to the Rhodians, he gave them free liberty to -depart. - -_Chynon_ being more joyfull, by the obtaining of his hearts desire, -then any other conquest elsee 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 joyned with him -in opinion, that their safest course was, by no meanes to returne -to _Cyprus_; and therefore all (with one consent) resolved to set -saile for _Candye_, where every 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 -favourable to _Chynon_, in granting him so pleasing a Conquest, to -shew her inconstancy, as sodainly changed the inestimable joy of our -jocond Lover, into as heavy sorrow and disaster. For, foure houres -were not fully compleated, since his departure from the Rhodians, but -darke night came upon them, and he sitting conversing 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 unexpected -distresse, nor how to warrant themselves 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 love and life together. His friends -likewise, felte the selfesame affliction, but especially _Iphigenia_, -who wept and greeved beyond all measure, to see the ship beaten, -with such stormy billowes, as threatned her sinking every minute. -Impatiently she cursed the love of _Chynon_, greatly blaming his -desperate boldnesse, and maintaining, that so violent a tempest could -never happen, but onely by the Gods displeasure, who would not permit -him to have a wife against their will; and therefore thus punished his -proud presumption, not only in his unavoidable 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 every moment they expected wracking: they were carried -(contrary to their owne knowledge) very neere unto the Isle of -_Rhodes_, which they being no way able to avoid, and utterly ignorant -of the coast; for safety of their lives, they laboured to land there if -possibly they might. Wherein Fortune was somewhat furtherous to them, -driving 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 heavens to looke -more clearly) gave them discoverie, 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 sorrowfull, as fearing -that which after followed, and therefore hee willed the Mariners, to -get away from her by all their best endeavour, & let fortune afterward -dispose of them as she pleased; for into a worse place they could not -come, nor fall into the like danger. - -The Mariners employed their very utmost paines, and all prooved but -losse of time: for the winde was so stern, and the waves so turbulent, -that still they drove them the contrary way: so that striving to get -foorth of the gulfe, whether they would or no, they were driven on -land, and instantly knowne to the Rhodians, whereof they were not a -little joyful. The men of _Rhodes_ being landed, ran presently to -a neere neighbouring Village, where dwelt divers worthy Gentlemen, -to whom they reported the arrivall of _Chynon_, what fortune befell -them at Sea, and that _Iphigenia_ might now be recovered againe, with -chastisement to _Chynon_ for his bold insolence. They being very -joyfull 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 adjoining -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 arrived, 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 soveraigne Magistrate over the Rhodians, to go -well provided for the apprehension of _Chinon_ and all his company, -committing them to prison, which accordingly was done. In this manner, -the poore unfortunate lover _Chynon_, lost his faire _Iphigenia_, -having 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, untill the day -determined for her mariage. - -At the earnest entreaty of divers Rhodian Gentlemen, who were in -the Ship with _Iphigenia_, and had their lives courteously saved by -_Chynon_: both he and his friends had their lives likewise spared, -although _Pasimondo_ laboured importunately, to have them all put to -death; onely they were condemned to perpetuall imprisonment, which (you -must thinke) was most greevous to them, as being now hopelesse of any -deliverance. 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 unto you. - -_Pasimondo_ had a Brother, yonger then he in yeares, but not a jot -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 Governour loved verie dearly, and hindred her marriage with -_Hormisda_, by divers strange accidents. Now _Pasimondo_ perceiving, -that his owne Nuptials required much cost and solemnity, hee thought -it very convenient, that one day might serve for both the Weddinges, -which elsee would lanch into more lavish 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 utterly deprived of -al hope to attaine the issue of his desire, if _Hormisda_ receyved -_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 giving such an -unfitting example. Neverthelesse, after long deliberation, honour gave -way to love, and resolutely he concluded to steale her away, whatsoever -became of it. - -Nothing wanted now, but a convenient company to assist him, & the order -how to have it done. Then he remembred _Chynon_ and his friends, whom -he detained as his prisoners, and perswaded himself, that he could not -have 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 themselves, 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 have 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 have heard) by the piercing solicitudes of love, -of a senselesse creature, they made thee to become a man endued with -reason. Afterward, by adverse 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 enjoyedst 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 never give thee any blessing more worthy of acceptance, -then she whom 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 ever heretofore, I will acquaint thee -withall more at large. - -Understand then Noble _Chynon_, that _Pasimondo_, the onely glad man -of thy misfortune, and diligent sutor after thy death, maketh all hast -hee can possibly devise 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 love bee such, as I am perswaded it is) I partly can collect -from my selfe, being intended to be wronged by his brother _Hormisda_, -even in the selfsame manner, and on his marriage day, by taking faire -_Cassandra_ from me, the onely Jewell of my love and life. For the -prevention of two such notorious injuries, I see that Fortune hath left -us no other meanes, but only the vertue of our courages, and the helpe -of our right hands, by preparing our selves to Armes, opening a way to -thee, by a second rape or stealth; and to me the first, for absolute -possession of our divine Mistresses. Wherefore, if thou art desirous to -recover thy losse, I will not onely pronounce liberty to thee (which I -thinke thou dost little care for without her) but dare also assure thee -to enjoy _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 craving any long -respit of time for answer, thus he replyed. Lord _Lysimachus_, in such -a busines as this is, you cannot have a faster friend then my self, -at least, if such good hap may betide me, as you have more then halfe -promised: & therefore do no more but command what you would have 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_, upon which day, thou, thy -friends, and my self (with some others, in whom I repose especiall -trust) by the friendly favour of night, will enter into their houses, -while they are in the middest of theyr Joviall feasting; and (seizing -on the two Brides) beare them thence to a Shippe, which I will have lye -in secret, waiting for our comming, and kil all such as shall presume -to impeach us. This direction gave great contentment to _Chynon_, who -remained still in prison, without revealing a word to his owne friends, -until the limited time was come. - -Upon the Wedding day, performed with great and magnificent Triumph, -there was not a corner in the Brethrens houses, but it sung joy 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 -division in three parts, of _Chynon_, his followers, and his owne -friendes, being all well armed under their outward habites. Having -first used 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 urgent -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 up fast, and so impeach their passage forth. -Then with _Chynon_, and the third band of Confederates, he ascended -the staires up 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, delivered them into the hands of -their followers, commanding that they should be carried aboord the -ship, for avoiding of further inconveniences. - -This hurrie and amazement beeing in the house, the Brides weeping, the -Ladies lamenting, and all the servants confusedly wondering; _Chynon_ -and _Lysimachus_ (with their Friends) having their weapons drawn in -their hands, made all opposers to give 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 divers 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 arrived, they were worthily entertained by honourable Friendes -and Kinsmen, who pacified all unkindnesses betweene them and their -Mistresses: And, having accepted them in lawfull marriage, there -they lived in no meane joy and contentment: albeit there was a long -and troublesome 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 have such discontentment appeased, -endangering warre betweene the Kingdomes: after a limited time of -banishment, _Chynon_ returned joyfully with his _Iphigenia_ home to -_Cyprus_, and _Lysimachus_ with his beloved _Cassandra_ unto _Rhodes_, -each living in their severall Countries, with much felicity. - - - - -_Faire_ Constance _of_ Liparis, _fell in love 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 living. There -she made her selfe knowne to him, and he being in great authority, as -a privy Counsellor to the King: he married the saide_ Constance, _and -returned richly home with her, to the Island of_ Liparis. - -The second Novell. - -_Wherein is declared the firme loyaltie of a true Lover: And how -Fortune doth sometime humble men, to raise them afterward to a farre -higher degree._ - - -When the Queene perceyved, that the Novell recited by _Pamphilus_ was -concluded, which she graced with especial commendations: she commaunded -Madame _Æmillia_, to take her turne as next in order; whereupon, thus -she began. Me thinkes it is a matter of equity, that every 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 -scrupulous affectation, I shall the more gladly obey our Queen to day, -then yesterday I did our melancholly King. - -Understand then (Noble Ladies) that neere to _Sicily_, there is a small -Island, commonly called _Liparis_, wherein (not long since) lived 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 unexpert 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_ coveting to enjoy her in marriage, made -his intent knowne to her Father: who upbraiding him with poverty, tolde -him plainly that hee should not have her. _Martuccio_ greeving to see -himselfe thus despised, because he was poore: made such good meanes, -that he was provided of a small Barke; and calling such friends (as he -thought fit) to his association, made a solemne vow, that hee would -never returne backe to _Liparis_, untill he was rich, and in better -condition. - -In the nature and course of a Rover 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 favourable 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 themselves with sufficient riches: by greedy seeking -to get more, happened to be taken by certaine ships of the Sarazins, -and so were robbed themselves of all that they had gotten, yet they -resisted them stoutly a long while together, though it proved to -the losse of many lives among them. When the Sarazens had sunke his -shippe in the Sea, they tooke him with them to _Thunis_, where he was -imprisoned, and lived in extreamest misery. - -Newes came to _Liparis_, not onely by one, but many more beside, that -all those which departed thence in the small Barke with _Martuccio_ -were drowned in the Sea, and not a man escaped. When _Constance_ heard -these unwelcome tydings (who was exceeding full of greefe, for his so -desperate departure) she wept and lamented extraordinarily, desiring -now rather to dye, then live 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 privately from her Fathers -house, shee went to the port or haven, where (by chance) she found a -small Fisher-boate, lying distant from the other vesselse, 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 resolved with her selfe, that the -Boat being uncharged, and without a guide, wold either be over-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 jot, they conducted the small -Boat in such sort, that after the night of her entering into it, and -the morowes sailing untill the evening, 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 up her head to look about -her, neither intended ever to doe. Now it came to passe, that as the -boate was driven to the shore, a poore woman stood at the Sea side, -washing certaine Fishermens Nets; and seeing the boate comming towards -her under 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 sorrowes having broght her now into a sound sleepe, the -woman gave many cals before she could awake her, which at the length -she did, and looked very strangely about her. - -The poore woman perceyving 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 arrive there in this manner? When -_Constance_ heard her speake the Latine tongue, she began to doubt, -least some contrary winde had turned her backe to _Liparis_ againe, and -starting up sodainly, to looke with better advice 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 perceyving, that -death had denied to end her miseries, fearing least she should receive -some dishonour, in such a barbarous unkinde 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 prevailed so -well by gentle speeches, that shee conducted her into her owne poore -habitation; where at length she understoode, by what meanes shee hapned -thither so strangely. And perceyving 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 servant -in this Countrey to certaine Christian Fishermen. The yong Maiden -(albeit she was very full of sorrow) hearing her name to be _Carapresa_, -conceived it as a good augury to her selfe, & that she had heard the -name before, although shee knew not what occasion should move her thus -to do. Now began her hopes to quicken againe, and yet shee could not -tell upon 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 -(even for charities sake) to take pitty on her youth, and help her with -such good advice, to prevent all injuries which might happen to her, in -such a solitary wofull condition. - -_Carapresa_ having heard her request, like a good woman as shee was, -left _Constance_ in her poore Cottage, and went hastily to leave her -nets in safety: which being done, she returned backe againe, and -covering _Constance_ with her Mantle, led her on to _Susa_ with her, -where being arrived, the good woman began in this manner. _Constance_, -I will bring thee to the house of a very worthy Sarazin Lady, to whome -I have done manie honest services, 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 use thee as if thou wert her owne daughter. Now, -let it be thy part, during thy time of remaining with her, to employ -thy utmost diligence in pleasing her, by deserving and gaining her -grace, till heaven shall blesse thee with better fortune: And as she -promised, so she performed. - -The Sarazine Lady, being well stept into yeares, upon the commendable -speeches delivered by _Carapresa_, did the more seriously fasten her -eye on _Constance_, and compassion provoking her to teares, she tooke -her by the hand, and (in loving manner) kissed her fore-head. So she -led her further into her house, where dwelt divers other women (but not -one man) all exercising themselves in severall labours, as working in -all sorts of silke, with Imbroideries of Gold and Silver, and sundry -other excellent Arts beside, which in short time were verie familiar to -_Constance_, and so pleasing grew her behaviour to the old Lady, and -all the rest beside; that they loved 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 service 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 lived 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 have 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 honour 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 have frequented your countrey, -I have heedfully observed, that the Militarie Discipline used in your -fights and battailes, dependeth more upon 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 give great hope of successefull -prevailing. Sir, said _Martuccio_, if you please it may bee done, and -I can quickly resolve you how. Let the strings of your Archers Bowes -bee made more soft and gentle, then those which heretofore they have -formerly used; and next, let the nockes of the Arrowes be so provided, -as not to receive any other, then those pliant gentle strings. But -this must be done so secretly, that your enemies may have no knowledge -thereof, least they should provide themselves in the same manner. Now -the reason (Gracious Lord) why thus I counsell you, is to this end. -When the Archers on the Enemies side have shot their Arrowes at your -men, and yours in the like manner at them: it followeth, that (upon -meere constraint) they must gather up your Arrowes, to shoote them -backe againe at you, for so long while as the battell endureth, as no -doubt but your men will do the like to them. But your enemies will finde -themselves much deceived, because they can make no use of your peoples -Arrowes, in regard that the nockes are too narrow to receive 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 have free -use of both, reserving them in plentifull store, when your adversaries -must stand unfurnished of any, but them that they cannot any way use. - -This counsell pleased the King very highly, and hee being a Prince of -great understanding, gave order to have 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 honour of the man by whome they hapned: even 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 living, and in -honourable condition. The love which formerly she bare unto 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) revived againe in chearfull manner. - -Having 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 (even -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 understand the newes of _Martuccio Gomito_. After -they knew for a certaintie that hee was living, 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 unto him in this manner. Noble -_Martuccio_, there is a servant of thine in my house, which came from -_Liparis_, and requireth to have a little private 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_ gave 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 joy, and being unable 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 utter one word) the teares trickled abundantly downe her -cheekes. _Martuccio_ also seeing his faire friend, was overcome with -exceeding admiration, & stood awhile, as not knowing what to say; -till venting forth a vehement sighe, thus he spake. My deerest love -_Constance_! art thou yet living? It is a tedious long while since I -heard thou wast lost, and never any tydinges knowne of thee in thine -owne Fathers house. With which wordes, the teares standing his eyes, -most lovingly he embraced her. _Constance_ recounted to him all her -fortunes, and what kindnesse she hadde receyved 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 Love _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 deserved him to be -thy husband. Then sending for very costly Jewelse, and rich presents, -the one halfe of them he gave to her, and the other to _Martuccio_, -graunting them license withall, to marry according to their owne mindes. - -_Martuccio_ did many honours, and gave great giftes to the aged Sarazine -Lady, with whom _Constance_ had lived so kindly respected: which -although she had no neede of, neither ever expected any such rewarding; -yet (conquered by their urgent importunity, especially _Constance_, who -could not be thankfull enough to her) she was enforced to receive them, -and taking her leave 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, untill they arrived at _Liparis_, -where they were entertained with generall rejoycing. And because their -marriage was not sufficiently performed at _Thunis_, in regard of -divers Christian ceremonies there wanting, their Nuptials were againe -most honourably solemnized, and they lived (many yeares after) in -health and much happinesse. - - - - -Pedro Bocamazzo, _escaping away with a yong Damosell which he loved, -named_ Angelina, _met with Theeves in his journey. The Damosell flying -fearfully into a Forrest, by chance arriveth at a Castle._ Pedro _being -taken by the Theeves, 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 Novell. - -_Wherein, the severall powers both of Love and Fortune, is more at -large approved._ - - -There was not any one in the whole company, but much commended the -Novell reported by Madam _Emillia_, and when the Queene perceived 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 -unfortunate night, which happened to two Lovers, 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 Bocamazzo_, -descended from one of the most honourable families in _Rome_, who -was much enamoured of a beautifull Gentlewoman, called _Angelina_, -daughter to one named _Giglivozzo Saullo_, whose fortunes were none -of the fairest, yet he greatly esteemed among the Romaines. The -entercourse of love between these twaine, had so equally enstructed -their hearts and souls, that it could hardly be judged which of them -was the more fervent in affection. But he, not being inured 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 enjoy her in honourable mariage. Which his parents and -friends hearing, they went to conferre with him, blaming him with -over-much basenesse, so farre to disgrace himselfe and his stocke. -Beside, they advised the Father to the Maid, neither to credit what -_Pedro_ saide in this case, or to live in hope of any such match, -because they all did wholly despise it. - -_Pedro_ perceiving, that the way was shut up, whereby (and none other) -he was to mount the Ladder of his hopes; began to waxe weary of longer -living: and if he could have won her fathers consent, he would have -maried her in the despight of all his friends. Neverthelesse, 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 understood her ready -resolution, to adventure with him thorough all fortunes whatsoever, -concluding on their sodaine and secret flight from Rome. For which -_Pedro_ did so well provide, that very early in a morning, and well -mounted on horsebacke, they tooke the way leading unto _Alagna_, where -_Pedro_ had some honest friends, in whom he reposed especiall trust. -Riding on thus thorow the countrey, having no leysure to accomplish -their marriage, because they stoode in feare of pursuite: they were -ridden above foure leagues from Rome, still shortning the way with -their amorous discoursing. - -It fortuned, that _Pedro_ having 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 twelve Villaines, whom -_Angelina_ sooner espyed, then _Pedro_ could do, which made her cry -out to him, saying: Help deere Love to save us, or elsee we shall be -assayled. _Pedro_ then turning his horse so expeditiously as he could, -and giving him the spurres as neede required; mainly he gallopped into -a neere adjoining Forrest, more minding the following of _Angelina_, -then any direction of his way, or then that endeavoured to be his -hinderance. So that by often winding & turning about, as the passage -appeared troublesome 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 resolving them therein, they fell into a secret -consultation, saying thus among themselves. This man is a friend to our -deadly enemies, how can wee then otherwise dispose of him, but bereave -him of all he hath, and in despight of the _Orsini_ (men in nature -hatefull to us) hang him up 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 unwillingly) -it so fell out, that five and twenty other theeves, came sodainly -rushing in upon 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 themselves. Which the new crewe -perceyving, 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_ perceyved, and saw -none tarrying to prey uppon 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 beloved _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 travailed still, not -knowing where to make his arrivall. And having formerly heard of savage -ravenous beasts, which commonly live in such unfrequented 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 unfortunate _Pedro_, untill 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, untill 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 uppon 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 -unto a great tree, uppe he climbed into the same Tree, fearing to bee -devoured (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 cleare: yet durst -hee not nod, or take a nap, lest he should fall out of the tree; but -sate still greeving, sighing, and mourning, despairing of ever 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 unto: but even as it pleased hir -horse to carry her: she entred so farre into the Forest, that she could -not devise where to seeke her owne safety. And therefore, even 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 greevously complaining of her hard fortune. At -the length, perceyving that _Pedro_ came not to her at all, she found -a little path (which shee lighted on by great good fortune) even 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 therein a very old man, having a wife -rather more aged then he, who seeing hir to be without company, the old -man spake thus unto her. - -Faire daughter (quoth he) whether wander you at such an unseasonable -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 above sixe leagues hence. Then -shee desired to knowe, how farre off shee was from such houses, where -she might have any reasonable lodging? There are none so neere, said -the old man, that day light will give you leave to reach. May it please -you then good Father (replied _Angelina_) seeing I cannot travaile any -whether elsee; For Gods sake, to let me remaine heere with you this -night. Daughter answered the good old man, wee can gladly give you -entertainement here, for this night, in such poore manner as you see: -but let mee tell you withall, that up and downe these wooddes (as well -by night as day) walke companies of all conditions, and rather enimies -then friends, who doe us many greevious displeasures and harmes. Now -if by misfortune, you beeing heere, any such people should come, and -seeing you so loovely faire, as indeed you are, offer you any shame or -injurie: 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 us. - -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 will -of heaven, both you and I shall be defended from any misfortune: but -if any such mischance do happen, I account the matter lesse deserving -grief, if I fall into the mercy of men, then to be devoured 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 provision 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 -divided from her deare _Pedro_, of whose life and welfare she greatly -despaired. - -When it was almost day, she heard a great noise of people travailing -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 -travelling strangers might not readily finde her there in the house. -Scarsely was she fully hidden, but a great company of Theeves and -Villaines, finding the doore open, rushed into the Cottage, where -looking round about them for some booty, they saw the Damoselse 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 gave him house-roome heere, rather then to be devoured by Wolves -abroad. Then said the principall of the Theevish crew; This horse shall -be ours, in regard he hath no other master, and let the owner come -claime him of us. - -When they had searched every 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 Javelins and Targets, wherewith they used -commonly to travaile. It fortuned, that one of them, being more subtily -suspitious then the rest, thrust his Javeline 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 theeving exercise, taking the Damoselse 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 us yesternight? I have 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 over-blowne, and hearing none of the former noise, -which made her the better hope of their departure, came forth of the -Hay-stack; whereof the good old man was not a little joyfull, and -because she had so well escaped from them: so seeing it was now broad -day-light, he sayde unto 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 travaile thither on foote, -because the night-walkers that happened hither, have 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, and arrived there betweene seven 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 upon -_Angelina_, but shee knew her immediately, and entertaining her very -willingly, requested, to know the reason of her thus arriving there: -which shee at large related, and moved the Lady (who likewise knew -_Pedro_ perfectly well) to much compassion, because he was a kinsman -and deare friend to her Husband; and understanding how the Theeves 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, untill 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 full of griefe, as no man -could be more; about the houre of midnight (by the bright splendour of -the Moone) espied about some twenty Wolves, who, so soone as they got -a sight of the Horse, ran and engirt him round about. The Horse when -he perceived 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 every side, and utterly unable 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 jot 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 devise 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, having stood quaking so long in the Tree; -at length by continuall looking every 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 arrived, 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 releeve 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 loving manner, to ridde -him of all further feares. - -When he was arrived at the Castle, and found there divers 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 joy, for never could any man -be more comforted, then he was at the sight of his _Angelina_, and -questionlesse, her joy was not a jot inferior to his, such a simpathy -of firme love was sealed between them. The Lady of the Castle, after -shee had given them very gracious entertainement, and understood -the scope of their bold adventure; shee reproved them both somewhat -sharpely, for presuming so farre without the consent of their Parents. -But perceiving (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 -offensive to me? They love each other loyally; they are not inferiour -to one another in birth, but in fortune; they are equally loved and -allied to my Husband, and their desire is both honest and honourable. -Moreover, what know I, if it be the will of Heaven to have it so? -Theeves 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 Javeline, and yet her fairer starres would not suffer -her so to perish: beside, they both have escaped the fury of ravenous -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 Heavens. - -Then turning her selfe to them, thus shee proceeded. If your desire -be to joyne 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 endeavour, to make peace between you and -your discontented Parents. _Pedro_ was not a little joyfull at her -kind offer, and _Angelina_ much more then he; so they were maried -together in the Castle, and worthily feasted by the Lady, as Forrest -entertainment could permit, and there they enjoyed the first fruits of -their love. 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 prevailed so wel with -_Pedroes_ angry Parents: that all variance ended in love and peace, -and afterward they lived lovingly 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, having his hand fast in -hers, and shee sleeping in the same manner. Whereupon, they were joyned -together in marriage, and their long loyall love mutually recompenced._ - -The fourth Novell. - -_Declaring the discreete providence of Parents, in care of their -Childrens love and their owne credit, to cut off inconveniences, before -they doe proceede too farre._ - - -Madam _Eliza_ having ended her Tale, and heard what commendations the -whole company gave thereof; the Queene commanded _Philostratus_, to -tell a Novell agreeing with his owne minde, who smiling thereat, thus -replyed. Faire Ladies, I have beene so often checkt & snapt, for my -yester dayes matter and argument of discoursing, which was both tedious -and offensive to you; that if I intended to make you any amends, I -should now undertake 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 Novell, not any way offensive (as I trust) but exemplary -for some good notes of observation. - -Not long since, there lived 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 _Jaquemina_, he had a Daughter, the very choycest -and goodliest gentlewoman in all those parts. Now because such a happy -blessing (in their olde yeeres) was not a little comfortable to them; -they thought themselves the more bound in duty, to be circumspect of -her education, by keeping her out of over-frequent companies, but -onely such as agreed best with their gravity, & might give the least -ill example to their Daughter, who was named _Catharina_; as making no -doubt, but by this their provident 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, even as if he had beene their owne -Sonne. - -This young Gallant, perceiving the Maiden to be very beautifull, of -singular behaviour, 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 covertly caried, but that she perceived it, -and grew in as good liking of him. Many times he had an earnest desire -to have 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 love? _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 Love, I have dedicated -all my fairest fortunes onely to thy service, so that it remaineth -soly in thy power, to dispose of me as best shall please thee, and to -appoint such times of private conversation, as may yeeld more comfort -to my poore afflicted soule. - -_Catherina_ standing musing awhile, 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 conversing with any one, that I hold -this our enterparlance now almost miraculous. But if you could devise -any convenient meanes, to admit us more familiar freedome, without any -prejudice to mine honour, or the least distaste of my Parents; doe but -enstruct it, and I will adventure it. _Ricciardo_ having 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 private talking together, I conceive to be the Gallery over your -Fathers Garden. If you can winne your Mother to let you lodge there, -I will make meanes to climbe over the wall, and at the goodly gazing -window, we may discourse so long as we please. Now trust me deare Love -(answered _Catharina_) no place can be more convenient for our purpose, -there shall we heare the sweete Birds sing, especially the Nightingale, -which I have 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 divers 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 over-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 have it? -Seasons are to be suffered, according to their severall 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 _Catherina_, -that cannot be; for as Summer proceedeth on, so the heate encreaseth, -and no expectation can be of temperate weather, untill it groweth to -Winter againe. Why Daughter, saide the Mother, what wouldest thou have -me to doe? Mother (quoth shee) if it might stand with my Fathers good -liking and yours, I would be lodged in the Garden Gallery, which is a -great deale more coole, and temperate. There shall I heare the sweete -Nightingale sing, as every night shee useth to doe, and many other -pretty Birds beside, which I cannot doe, lodging in your Chamber. - -The Mother loving her Daughter dearely, as being some-what over-fond of -her, and very willing to give her contentment; promised to impart her -minde to her Father, not doubting but to compasse what shee requested. -When shee had moved 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 Oven, 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 not 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, have we but one onely Daughter, whom you pretend to love -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 hardly (as yet) out of her childish -yeeres, and Children have many desires farre differing from ours: the -singing of Birds is rare musicke to them, and chiefly the Nightingale; -whose sweete notes will provoke them to rest, when neither art or -physicke can doe it. - -Is it even so Wife? answered _Messer Lizio_. Must your will and mine be -governed by our Daughter? Well be it so then, let her bed be made in -the Garden Gallerie, but I will have the keeping of the key, both to -locke her in at night, and set her at libertie every morning. Woman, -woman, young wenches are wily, many wanton crochets are busie in their -braines, and to us that are aged, they sing like Lapwings, telling us -one thing, and intending another; talking of Nightingales, when their -mindes run on Cocke-Sparrowes. Seeing Wife, shee must needes have -her minde, let yet your care and mine extend so farre, to keepe her -chastity uncorrupted, and our credulity from being abused. _Catharina_ -having thus prevailed with her Mother, her bed made in the Garden -Gallery, and secret intelligence given to _Ricciardo_, for preparing -his meanes of accesse to her window; old provident _Lizio_ lockes the -doore to bed-ward, and gives 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 Lovers) take their -rest; _Ricciardo_ having provided a Ladder of Ropes, with grapling -hookes to take hold above and below, according as he had occasion to -use it. By helpe thereof, first he mounted over the Garden wall, and -then climbde up to the Gallery window, before which (as is every where -in _Italie_) was a little round engirting Tarras, onely for a man to -stand upon, for making cleane the window, or otherwise repairing it. -Many nights (in this manner) enjoyed they their meetings, entermixing -their amorous conference with infinite kisses and kinde embraces, as -the window gave leave, he sitting in the Tarras, and departing alwayes -before breake of day, for feare of being discovered by any. - -But, as excesse of delight is the Nurse to negligence, and begetteth -such an over-presuming boldnesse, as afterward proveth to be sauced -with repentance: so came it to passe with our over-fond Lovers, in -being taken tardy 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 -respective of, then was requisite in an adventure so dangerous: it -fortuned, that their amorous pleasure had so farre transported them, -and dulled their sences in such sort, by these their continued nightly -watchings; that they both fell fast asleepe, he having 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 wives Chamber, saide to her. Rise -quickly wife, and you shall see, what made our Daughter so desirous to -lodge in the Garden Gallery. I perceive that shee loved 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 -live 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 -perceiving how _Ricciardo_ and _Catharina_ had both deceived her, -would have made an outcry, but that _Messer Lizio_ spake thus to her. -Wife, as you love me, speake not a word, neither make any noyse: for, -seeing shee hath loved _Ricciardo_ without our knowledge, and they -have had their private meetings in this manner, yet free from any -blamefull imputation; he shall enjoy her, and shee him. _Ricciardo_ -is a Gentleman, well derived, and of rich possessions, it can be no -disparagement to us, that _Catharina_ match with him in mariage, -which he neither shall, or dare denie to doe, in regard of our Lawes -severity; for climbing up to my window with his Ladder of Ropes, -whereby 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 up to the Law, which surely shee will not -suffer, their love agreeing together in such mutuall manner, and he -adventuring so dangerously for her. - -Madam _Jaquemina_, perceiving that her husband spake very reasonably, -and was no more offended at the matter; stept aside with him behinde -the drawne Curtaines, untill they should awake of themselves. 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 Love! what shall we doe? we have 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 have found -such an unbefitting way hither, we will provide you a better for your -backe returning. When _Ricciardo_ saw the Father and Mother both there -present, he could not devise 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 crave 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 unfeined love to your Daughter -_Catharina_, hath beene the onely cause of my transgressing. - -_Ricciardo_ (replyed _Messer Lizio_) the love I beare thee, and the -honest confidence I doe repose in thee, step up (in some measure) to -pleade thine excuse, especially in the regard of my Daughter, whom I -blame thee not for loving, but for this unlawfull way of presuming -to her. Neverthelesse, perceiving 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 adventure) -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 Wives Rings, before they went out -of the Gallery; _Ricciardo_ and _Catharina_ were espoused together, to -their no little joy 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, living long after in happy prosperity. - - - - -Guidotto _of Cremona, departing out of this mortall life, left a -Daughter of his, with_ Jacomino _of Pavia._ Giovanni di Severino, -_and_ Menghino da Minghole, _fell both in love with the young Maiden, -and fought for her; who being afterward knowne, to be the Sister to_ -Giovanni, _shee was given in mariage to_ Menghino. - -The fifth Novell. - -_Wherein may be observed, what quarrelse and contentions are occasioned -by Love; with some particular discription, concerning the sincerity of -a loyall friend._ - - -All the Ladies laughing heartily, at the Novell of the Nightingale, so -pleasingly delivered 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 have -made me such an amends to day, as wee have little reason to complaine -any more of you. So converting 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 Novell out of _Romania_: I meane to walke with him in -the same jurisdiction, 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 _Jacomino_ of _Pavia_, -men of sufficient entrance into yeeres, having followed the warres -(as Souldiers) all their youthful time. _Guidotto_ feeling sicknesse -to over-master him, and having no sonne, kinsman, or friend, in whom -he might repose more trust, then hee did in _Jacomino_: having 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 enjoyed, and then departed -out of this life. It came to passe, that the City of _Faenza_, long -time being molested with tedious warres, and subjected to very servile -condition; beganne now to recover her former strength, with free -permission (for all such as pleased) to returne and possesse their -former dwellings. Whereupon, _Jacomino_ (having sometime beene an -inhabitant there) was desirous to live in _Faenza_ againe, convaying -thither all his goods, and taking with him also the young girle, which -_Guidotto_ had left him, whom hee loved, 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, -civill, and honest demeanour, which incited many amorously to affect -her. But (above all the rest) two very honest young men, of good -fame and repute, who were so equally in love addicted to her, that -being jealous of each others fortune, in preventing of their severall -hopefull expectation; a deadly hatred grew suddenly betweene them, -the one being named, _Giovanni de Severino_, 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 give no consent thereto: wherefore, perceiving their -honest intended meaning to be frustrated, they now began to busie their -braines, how to forestall one another by craft and circumvention. - -_Jacomino_ had a Maide-servant belonging to his House, somewhat aged, -and a Man-servant beside, named _Grivello_, of mirthfull disposition, -and very friendly, with whom _Giovanni_ grew in great familiarity; and -when he found time fit for the purpose, he discovered his love to him, -requesting his furtherance and assistance, in compassing the height -of his desire, with bountifull promises of rich rewarding; whereto -_Grivello_ 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 never will stay to heare me. Wherefore, if my service this -way may doe you any good, I promise to performe it; doe you beside, as -you shall find it most convenient for you. So the bargaine was agreed -on betweene them, and nothing elsee now remained, but to what issue it -should sort in the end. - -_Menghino_, on the other side, having entred into the Chamber-maides -acquaintance, sped so well with her, that shee delivered 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 -have conference with her, whensoever her Master should be absent from -home. Thus _Menghino_ being favoured (on the one side) by the olde -Chamber-maide, and _Giovanni_ (on the other) by trusty _Grivello_; -their amorous warre was now on foote, and diligently followed by both -their sollicitors. Within a short while after, by the procurement of -_Grivello, Jacomino_ was invited by a neighbour to supper, in company -of divers his very familiar friends, whereof intelligence being given to -_Giovanni_; a conclusion passed betweene them, that (upon a certaine -signale given) he should come, and finde the doore standing ready open, -to give him all accesse unto the affected Mayden. - -The appointed night being come, and neither of these hot Lovers 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 provided, 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 -given: but _Giovanni_ and his consorts, were ambushed somewhat further -off from the House, and both saw when _Jacomino_ went foorth to supper. -Now _Grivello_ and the Chamber-maide began to vary, which should -send the other out of the way, till they had effected their severall -intention; whereupon _Grivello_ 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 _Grivello_ remembring himselfe, that the houre of his appointment -with _Giovanni_ 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 revenged on her when I list. So, having made the -signall, he went to open the doore, even when _Giovanni_ (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, upon this mutinous noyse and out-cry, -the Neighbours came foorth of their Houses, with lights, staves, and -clubbes, greatly reproving them for this out-rage, yet assisting -_Menghino_: by meanes whereof, after a long time of contention, -_Menghino_ recovered the Mayden from _Giovanni_, and placed her -peaceably in _Jacominoes_ House. - -No sooner was this hurly-burly somewhat calmed, but the Serjeants to -the Captaine of the City, came thither, and apprehended divers of -the mutiners: among whom were _Menghino, Giovanni,_ and _Grivello_, -committing them immediately to prison. But after every thing was -pacified, and _Jacomino_ returned home to his House from supper; he -was not a little offended at so grosse an injury. When he was fully -informed, how the matter happened, and apparantly perceived, that -no blame at all could be imposed on the Mayden: he grew the better -contented, resolving with himselfe (because no more such inconveniences -should happen) to have her married so soone as possibly he could. - -When morning was come, the kindred and friends on either side, -understanding the truth of the error committed, and knowing beside, -what punishment would be inflicted on the prisoners, if _Jacomino_ -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 unruly and youthfull people, meerely -drawne into the action by perswasion of friends; submitting both -themselves, and the offendors, to such satisfaction as he pleased to -appoint them. _Jacomino_, who had seene and observed many things in his -time, and was a man of sound understanding, 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 service, but even as you shall please to command -me. But plainely, and without all further ceremonious complement, I -must agree to whatsoever you can request; as thinking you to be more -injured by me, then any great wrong that I have sustained. Concerning -the young Damosell remaining in my House, shee is not (as many have -imagined) either of _Cremona_, or _Pavia_, but borne a _Faentine_, -here in this Citie: albeit neither my selfe, shee, or he of whom I had -her, did ever 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 native of your owne, doe right to her, and then you -can doe no wrong unto mee. - -When the Gentlemen understood, that the Mayden was borne in _Faenza_, -they marvelled thereat, and after they had thanked _Jacomino_ 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, perceiving them attentive to heare him, began in -this manner. - -Understand 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 utterly forsaken of the dwellers, onely this poore -Mayden excepted, being then aged but two yeeres, or thereabout. As hee -mounted up the steps, with intent to depart from the House; she called -him Father, which word moved 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 -convenient for mariage, yet I could never find any one to bestow her -on, at least that I thought fitting for her: howbeit, I will listen -thereto much more respectively, 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 _Jacomino_ 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 _Jacomino_ -speaketh. 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 ever thou sawest any scarre or marke about her, which may revive thy -former knowledge of her, for my minde perswades me, that the Maide is -thy Daughter. - -_Bernardino_ musing a while with himselfe, remembred, that under her -left eare, 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 _Jacomino_ (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 moved; 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 _Jacomino_ to be so pleased, as to lift up a little the lockes -of haire, depending over her left eare. _Jacomino_ did it presently, -albeit with a modest blushing in the maide, and _Bernardino_ looking -advisedly on it, knew it to be the selfe same crosse; which confirmed -her constantly to be his Daughter. - -Overcome with excesse of joy, which made the teares to trickle downe -his cheekes, he proffered to embrace and kisse the Maide: but she -resisting his kindnesse, because (as yet) shee knew no reason for it, -he turned himselfe to _Jacomino_, saying. My deare brother and friend, -this Maide is my Daughter, and my House was the same which _Guidotto_ -spoyled, in the generall havocke 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 elsee she had perished in the fire, because the House was -instantly burnt downe to the ground. The Mayden hearing his words, -observing him also to be a man of yeeres and gravity: shee beleeved -what he saide, and humbly submitted her selfe to his kisses & embraces, -even 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, gave -her most gracious and kind welcome, he receiving her from _Jacomino_ 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 _Giovanni_, then his prisoner, -was the Son to _Bernardino_, and naturall Brother to the newly -recovered 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 loving league of peace was confirmed -betweene _Giovanni_ and _Menghino_, to whom (with free and full consent -on all sides) the faire Maide, named _Agatha_, was given in marriage, -with a more honourable enlargement of her dowry, and _Grivello_, with -the rest, delivered out of prison, which for their tumultuous riot they -had justly deserved. _Menghino_ and _Agatha_ had their wedding worthily -sollemnized, with all due honours belonging thereto; and long time -after they lived in _Faenza_, highly beloved, and graciously esteemed. - - - - -Guion di Procida, _being found familiarly conversing with a young -Damosell, which he loved; and had been given (formerly) to_ Frederigo, -_King of Sicilie: was bound to a stake; to be consumed with fire. From -which danger (neverthelesse) he escaped, being knowne by_ Don Rogiero -de Oria, _Lord Admirall of Sicilie, and afterward married the Damosell._ - -The sixth Novell. - -_Wherein is manifested, that love can leade a man into numberlesse -perils: out of which he escapeth with no meane difficulty._ - - -The Novell of Madam _Neiphila_ being ended, which proved 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 prevailing -powers of love, conducting amorous soules into infinite travelse, with -inconveniences no way avoidable, and not easily to be foreseene, or -prevented. As partly already hath beene observed, by divers of our -former Novelse 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) -lived a faire and lovely 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 love 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 gave him leave; 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 elsee, -yet to behold the walles that enclosed his Mistresse thus. - -While this love continued in equall fervency, it chanced upon a faire -Summers day, that _Restituta_ walked alone upon the Sea-shoare, going -from Rocke to Rocke, having 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 adjoining to it, and thither (at -that very instant time) certaine Sicilian young Gentlemen, which came -from _Naples_, had made their retreate. They perceiving the Gentlewoman -to be very beautifull (shee as yet not having 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 arrived 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 resolved, to bestow her as a -rich present, on _Frederigo_ King of _Sicilie_, who was then young & -joviall, 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 Loves: but, being at that time empaired -in his health, and his body much distempered by ill dyet; he gave -command, that untill 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 greevance of all, was, -that it could not be knowne how, by whom, or by what meanes. But _Guion -di Procida_, whom this injury 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, even from _Minerva_, unto the _Scalea_ in _Calabria_, searching -for his lost Love in every angle: at length it was tolde him at the -_Scalea_, that shee was carried away by certaine _Sicillian_ Marriners, -to _Palermo_, whither _Guion_ set sayle immediately. - -After some diligent search made there, he understood, that she was -delivered to the King, and he had given strict command, for keeping -her in his place of pleasure; called the _Cube_: which newes were not -a little greevous to him, for now he was almost quite out of hope, not -onely of ever enjoying her, but also of seeing her. Neverthelesse, Love -would not let him utterly despaire, whereupon he sent away his Barque, -and perceiving himselfe to be unknowne 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 used to doe, Fortune -was so favourable to him, as to let him have 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_ observing, that the _Cube_ was -seated in a place of small resort; approached so neere as possibly he -durst, to have some conference with _Restituta_. - -As Love sets a keene edge on the dullest spirit, and (by a small -advantage) makes a man the more adventurous: so this little time of -unseene talke, inspired him with courage, and her with witty advice, -by what meanes his accesse might be much neerer to her, and their -communication concealed from any discovery, 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 convenient, he returned thither againe, provided of such -grappling-yrons, as is required when men will clamber, made fast unto -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 given him instruction, and rearing -it up against her chamber window, made that his meanes for ascending -thereto, shee having left it open for his easier entrance. - -You cannot denie (faire Ladies) but here was a very hopefull beginning, -and likely to have as happy an ending, were it not true Loves fatall -misery, even in the very height of promised assurance, to be thwarted -by unkind prevention, and in such manner as I will tell you. This -night, intended for our Lovers meeting, proved disastrous and dreadfull -to them both: for the King, who at the first sight of _Restituta_, was -highly pleased with her excelling beauty; gave 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 _Guion_ aloft at the window, calling softly to -his Mistresse, as if she had beene there; but he was over-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 avouching, 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 -justified the goodnesse of his cause: _Restituta_ likewise was sent -for, who no sooner saw her deare Love _Guion_, but shee ran and caught -him fast about the necke, kissing him in teares, and greeving 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 having himselfe seene, by what strange meanes he did climbe over -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 conveyed 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 Lovers, as the -uncivill and unsightly 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, even the whole City of _Palermo_, both men and -women. The men were stricken with admiration, beholding the unequalled -beauty of faire _Restituta_, & the selfe same passion possessed the -women, seeing _Guion_ to be such a goodly and compleat young man: but -the poore infortunate Lovers themselves, they stood with their lookes -dejected 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 lives 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 observed 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, advisedly beholding poore condemned _Guion_, -conceived, that he had somewhat seene him before this instant, and upon -this perswasion (even as if divine vertue had tutured his tongue) he -saide: Is not thy name _Guion di Procida_? - -Marke now, how quickly misery can receive comfort, upon so poore -and silly a question; for _Guion_ began to elevate his dejected -countenance, and looking on the Admirall, returned him this answere. -Sir, heretofore I have 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 unkindly crost thee? Love (answered _Guion_) and -the Kings displeasure. Then the Admirall would needs know the whole -history at large, which briefly was related to him, and having 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 favour 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 love 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, untill they heard more from the -King, to whom hee gallopped immediately, and although hee beheld him -to be very angerly moved; yet he spared not to speake in this manner. -Sir, wherein have 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. Beleeve me Sir, -if true love be an offence, then theirs may be termed to be one; and -albeit it did deserve death, yet farre be it from thee to inflict it on -them: for as faults doe justly 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 over-violently transported with anger. - -The young Gentleman, is the Sonne to _Landolfo di Procida_, the onely -Brother to Lord _John 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 preserve -thy prerogative in _Ischia_, which (but for him) had long since beene -out-rooted there. Beside, these two maine motives, to challenge justly -grace and favour from thee; they are in the floure and pride of their -youth, having long continued in loyall love together, and compelled by -fervency of endeared affection, not any will to displease thy Majesty: -they have offended (if it may be termed an offence to love, and in such -lovely 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 beleeved 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 have them released from the Stake, -and honourably to be brought before him. Being thus enstructed in their -severall qualities, and standing in duty obliged, to recompence the -wrong which he had done, with respective honours: he caused them to -be cloathed in royall garments, and knowing them to be knit in unity -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 joy and comfort -received, and lived long after in great felicity. - - - - -Theodoro _falling in love with_ Violenta, _the Daughter to his Master, -named_ Amarigo, _and shee conceiving 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 enjoyed_ Violenta _in -marriage._ - -The seventh Novell. - -_Wherein is declared, the sundry travelse and perillous accidents, -occasioned by those two powerfull Commanders, Love and Fortune, the -insulting Tyrants over humaine life._ - - -Greatly were the Ladies minds perplexed, when they heard, that the two -poore Lovers were in danger to be burned: but hearing afterward of -their happy deliverance, for which they were as joyfull againe; upon -the concluding of the Novell, the Queene looked on Madam _Lauretta_, -enjoyning her to tell the next Tale, which willingly she undertooke to -doe, and thus began. - -Faire Ladies, at such time as the good King _William_ reigned in -_Sicily_, there lived 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 -unfurnished of children; and therefore having neede of servants, he -made his provision 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 divers 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 lived in the condition of a servant) 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 proved 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 over-long kept from marriage by her -Fathers covetousnesse, and casting an eye of good liking on poore -_Pedro_. Now, albeit shee loved him very dearely, and all his behaviour -was most pleasing to her, yet maiden modesty forbad her to reveale it, -till Love (too long concealed) must needes disclose itselfe. 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 observed it, -and to her no meane contentment, as it appeared no lesse (on the other -side) to honest _Pedro_. - -While thus they loved 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, even as if shee -pittied their so long languishing, enstructed them how to find out -a way, whereby they might both better releeve themselves. _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, used 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 -over-clouded, even as they were returning home towards _Trapani_, -threatning a storme of raine to overtake 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 provoked -by love, 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 themselves in a poore Countrey-mans Cottage. _Pedro_ -and _Violenta_, having no other refuge, ranne likewise into a poore -Sheepe-coate, so over 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 coveting to avoide it so well as they could; sighes and drie -hemmes were often inter-vented, 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 never -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 Lovers soules; so that the raine ceased not, -till they had taken order for their oftner conversing, and absolute -plighting of their faithes together. By this time the storme was -fairely over-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 provident meanes, they often conferred in private together, -and enjoyed the benefit of their amorous desires; yet free from any ill -surmise or suspition. - -But, as Lovers 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 proved -to be conceived with childe, then which could befall them no heavier -affliction, and _Pedro_ fearing to loose his life therefore, determined -immediate flight, and revealed 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 Love (quoth _Pedro_) with what reason can -you wish my tarrying here? This conception of yours, doth discover our -offence, which a Fathers pity may easily pardon in you: but I being -his servant and vassall, shall be punished both for your sinne and -mine, because he will have 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 loving 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 prove 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 discovered; went -privately to her Mother, and (in teares) revealed her infirmity, humbly -craving 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 -beleeving, and willing to preserve her Daughter from shame, as also the -fierce anger of her Husband, he being a man of very implacable nature: -conveyed her to the Countrey-Farme, whither _Signior Amarigo_ sildome -or never resorted, intending (under the shadow of sicknesse) to let her -lie in there, without the least suspition of any in _Trapani_. - -Sinne and shame can never be so closely carried, or clouded with the -greatest cunning; but truth hath a loop-light whereby to discover it, -even when it supposeth it selfe in the surest safety. For, on the -very day of her deliverance, at such time as the Mother, and some -few friends (sworne to secrecy) were about the businesse: _Signior -Amarigo_, having beene in company of other Gentlemen, to flye his -Hawke at the River, upon a sudden, (but very unfortunately, albeit -he was alone by himselfe) stept into his Farme house, even to the -next roome where the women were, and heard the new-borne Babe to cry, -whereat marvelling 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 never before he had used to doe, and pittying -the wofull distresse of her Daughter, which now could be no longer -covered, revealed 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 conceived with childe, because he never observed -the least signe of love in her to any man whatsoever, and therefore he -would be satisfied in the truth, as shee expected any favour from him, -for elsee there was no other way but death. - -The Mother laboured by all meanes shee could devise, to pacifie her -Husbands fury, which proved 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 delivered of a goodly Sonne) he said -unto 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 discovered 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 -injury which _Pedro_ had done him, to a noble Gentleman, named _Signior -Conrado_, who was Captaine for the King over the City. - -Before poore _Pedro_ could have 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 lives of -the two poore Lovers, but their childes also; as a franticke man, -violently carried from all sense of compassion, even when _Pedro_ was -led and whipt to his death: he mingled strong poyson in a Cup of wine, -delivering it to a trusty servant 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 severall kinds of death are offered unto 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 deserved. When thou hast delivered 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 given this cruell sentence, both against his own -Daughter, and her young Sonne, the servant, readier to doe evill, -then any good, went to the place where his Daughter was kept. Poore -condemned _Pedro_, (as you have heard) was ledde whipt to the Jybbet, -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 journey, 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 upward, and his hands bound fast -behind him, but being well observed by one of the Ambassadours, a man -aged, and of great authority, named _Phineo_: he espied a great red -spot uppon his breast, not painted, or procured by his punishment, but -naturally imprinted in the flesh, which women (in these parts) terme -the Rose. Uppon the sight hereof, he suddenly remembred a Sonne of -his owne, which was stolne from him about fifteene yeeres before, by -Pyrates on the Sea-coast of _Laiazzo_, never hearing any tydings of him -afterward. Upon 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 living, 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. - -Moreover, thus he conceived, that if it were he, he could not but -remember his owne name, his Fathers, and the Armenian Language; -wherefore, when hee was just opposite before the window, hee called -aloud to him, saying: _Theodoro. Pedro_ hearing the voyce, presently -listed up his head, and _Phineo_ speaking _Armenian_, saide: Of whence -art thou, and what is thy Fathers name? The Sergeants (in reverence 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 joy: 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 unto them; which very willingly they promised to doe. - -Already, by the generall rumour dispersed abroade, _Phineo_ had -understood 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 have sent to death as a slave, is -a free Gentleman borne, and my Sonne, able to make her amends whom -he hath dishonoured, by taking her in mariage as his lawfull Wife. -Let me therefore entreate you, to make stay of the execution, untill -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 error, 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 beleeved 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 have it done at all. He who -went on this speedy errand, found there _Signior Amarigoes_ servant -standing before _Violenta_, with the Cup of poyson in his one hand, -and the drawne Rapier in the other, reproaching herewith very foule -and injurious speeches, because shee had delayed the time so long, and -would not accept the one or other, striving (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 severity, and craving 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 every -minute when he should die, yet joyfull that he had found his Father, -who presently moved the question to him. _Theodoro_ hearing that -_Violenta_ should be his Wife, if he would so accept her: was overcome -with such exceeding joy, 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 understand 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 above all in happinesse, if she might be wife -to her beloved _Theodoro_, submitting herselfe 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 up 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 reverence him as -her owne naturall Father, and he was not a little proud of so lovely 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 lived long in much tranquility. - - - - -Anastasio, _a Gentleman of the Family of the_ Honesti, _by loving -the Daughter to_ Signior Paulo Traversario, _lavishly wasted a great -part of his substance, without receiving any love 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 gave her to be -devoured by his Hounds._ Anastasio _invited his friends, and hers -also whom he so dearely loved, to take part of a dinner with him, who -likewise saw the same Damosell so torne in peeces: which his unkind -Love perceiving, and fearing least the like ill fortune should happen -to her; shee accepted_ Anastasio _to be her Husband._ - -The eighth Novell. - -_Declaring, that Love not onely makes a man prodigall, but also an -enemy to himselfe. Moreover, adventure oftentimes bringeth such matters -to passe, as wit and cunning in man can never comprehend._ - - -So soone as Madam _Lauretta_ held her peace, Madam _Philomena_ (by the -Queenes command) began, and saide. Lovely Ladies, as pitty is most -highly commended in our Sexe, even so is cruelty in us as severely -revenged (oftentimes) by divine ordination. Which that you may the -better know, and learne likewise to shun, as a deadly evill; I purpose -to make apparant by a Novell, no lesse full of compassion, then -delectable. - -_Ravenna_ 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 Unkle 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 Traversario_, one of the most ancient and noble -Families in all the Countrey. Nor made he any doubt, but by his meanes -and industrious endeavour, to derive affection from her againe; for -hee carried himselfe like a brave 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, howsoever Fortune became his enemy, these laudable parts of -manhood did not any way friend him, but rather appeared hurtfull to -him: so cruell, unkind, and almost meerely savage 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 uncivill usage in her, grew very distastefull to -_Anastasio_, and so unsufferable, that after a long time of fruitlesse -service, 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; & governed by more manly -consideration, determined, that as she hated him, he would requite her -with the like, if he could: wherein he became altogether deceived, -because as his hopes grew to a dayly decaying, yet his love enlarged it -selfe more and more. - -Thus _Anastasio_ persevering still in his bootelesse affection, and -his expences not limited within any compasse; it appeared in the -judgement 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 advised him to leave the City of _Ravenna_, and live in some other -place for such a while; as might set a more moderate stint upon his -spendings, and bridle the indiscreete course of his love, 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 -were to set thence for _France_ or _Spaine_, or elsee into some further -distant countrey: he mounted on horsebacke, and accompanied with some -few of his familiar friends, departed from _Ravenna_, 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 (upon a very -goodly greene) erecting divers Tents and Pavillions, such as great -persons make use 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 unto _Ravenna_, 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 ever he had done before, inviting divers to dine -with him this day, and as many to morrow, and not to leave him till -after supper: upon the sodaine, falling into remembrance of his cruell -Mistris, hee commanded all his servants to forbeare his company, and -suffer him to walke alone by himselfe awhile, because he had occasion -of private 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, having gone some halfe miles distance from his -Tents, entred into a Grove of Pine-trees, never minding dinner time, or -any thing elsee, but only the unkind requitall of his love. - -Sodainly he heard the voice of a woman, seeming to make most mournfull -complaints, which breaking of his silent considerations, made him -to lift up his head, to know the reason of this noise. When he saw -himselfe so farre entred into the Grove, 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 upward, her haire dishevelled 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, giving her very vile and dreadfull -speeches, and threatning everie minute to kill her. - -This strange and uncouth sight, bred in him no meane admiration, -as also kinde compassion to the unfortunate woman; out of which -compassion, sprung an earnest desire, to deliver her (if he could) -from a death so full of anguish and horror: but seeing himselfe to -be without Armes, hee ran and pluckt up 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 justly -deserved. And in speaking these words, the Hounds tooke fast hold on -her body, so staying her, untill the Knight was come neerer to her, -and alighted from his horse: when _Anastasio_ (after some other angry -speeches) spake thus unto 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 savage beast; therefore beleeve 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 Unckle) became as intirely -in love with this woman, as now thou art of _Paulo Traversarioes_ -daughter. But through her coy disdaine and cruelty, such was my heavy -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, rejoycing -immeasurably in mine unhappie death, remained no long time alive after -me, and for her mercilesse sinne of cruelty, and taking pleasure in my -oppressing torments; dying unrepentant, 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 Judges, imposed this further infliction on -us both; namely, that shee should flye in this manner before mee, and I -(who loved her so deerely while I lived) must pursue her as my deadly -enemy, not like a woman that had any taste of love in her. And so often -as I can overtake her, I am to kill her with this sword, the same -Weapon wherewith I slew my selfe. Then am I enjoyned, 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 give unto my hounds to -feede on. Afterward, such is the appointment of the supreame powers, -that she re-assumeth life againe, even 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. Every Friday, -and just at this houre, our course is this way, where shee suffereth -the just punishment inflicted on her. Nor do we rest any of the other -dayes, but are appointed unto other places, where she cruelly executed -her malice against me, being now (of her dear affectionate friend) -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 divine justice; for all -thy interposition is but in vaine, in seeking to crosse the appointment -of supreame powers. - -_Anastasio_ having attentively heard all this discourse, his haire -stoode upright like Porcupines quils, and his soule was so shaken with -the terror, that he stept back to suffer the Knight to doe what he was -enjoyned, looking yet with milde commiseration 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 bowelse, which instantly he threw to the dogges, and they -devoured them very greedily. Soone after, the Damosell (as if none of -this punishment had bene inflicted on her) started up 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 observed 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 deceived servants. -Forthwith hee perswaded himself, that he might make good use of this -womans tormenting, so justly imposed on the Knight to prosecute, if -thus it should continue still every Friday. Wherefore, setting a good -note or marke upon the place, hee returned backe to his owne people, -and at such time as hee thought convenient, sent for divers of his -kindred and friends from _Ravenna_, who being present with him, thus -hee spake to them. - -Deare Kinsmen and Friends, ye have a long while importuned mee, to -discontinue my over doating love to her, whom you all think, and I -find to be my mortall enemy: as also, to give over my lavish expences, -wherein I confesse my selfe too prodigal; both which requests of -yours, I will condiscend to, provided, that you will performe one -gracious favour for mee; Namely, that on Friday next, Signior _Paulo -Traversario_, 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 -mooving mee, you shall then more at large be acquainted withall. This -appeared no difficult matter for them to accomplish: wherefore, being -returned to _Ravenna_, and as they found the time answerable to their -purpose, they invited such as _Anastasio_ had appointed them. And -although they found it somewhat an 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_ provided, and the tables -were covered under 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 unkinde Mistresse, sate with her face opposite -unto the place, where the dismall spectacle was to be seene. About the -closing up of dinner, they beganne to heare the noise of the poore -prosecuted Woman, which drove them all to much admiration; desiring -to know what it was, and no one resolving 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 horseback, gallopping fiercely after them with his drawn weapon, -and came very nere unto the company, who cryed out with lowd exclaimes -against the dogs and the Knight, stepping forth in assistance of the -injuried woman. - -The Knight spake unto 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 unfortunate Woman, and likewise to the Knight, remembring -well both his love and death, did shed teares as plentifully, as if it -had bin to the very persons themselves, in visiall performance of the -action indeede. Which tragicall Scene being passed over, and the Woman -and Knight gone out of their sight: all that had seene this straunge -accident, fell into diversity 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 -observed 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 unkinde and cruell she had shewn her selfe to _Anastasio_, -even as the other Gentlewoman formerly did to her Lover, 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 prevent the like heavy 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 love, 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 give 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 -favour 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 uppon the Sunday next following, the mariage was very worthily -sollemnized, and they lived and loved together very kindly. Thus the -divine 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 -conversion, of a Maide so obstinately scornfull and proud: but likewise -al the women of _Ravenna_ (being admonished by her example) grew -afterward more kinde and tractable to mens honest motions, then ever -they shewed themselves before. And let me make some use hereof (faire -Ladies) to you, not to stand over-nicely conceited of your beauty and -good parts, when men (growing enamored of you by them) solicite you -with their best and humblest services. Remember then this disdainfull -Gentlewoman, but more especially her, who being the death of so kinde a -Lover, 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 service. - - - - -Frederigo, _of the_ Alberighi _Family, loved a Gentlewoman, and was -not requited with like love againe. By bountifull expences, and over -liberall invitations, he wasted and consumed all his lands and goods, -having nothing left him, but a Hawke or Faulcon. His unkinde Mistresse -happeneth to come visite him, and he not having 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 Novell. - -_Wherein is figured to the life, the notable kindnesse and courtesie, -of a true and constant Lover: As also the magnanimous minde of a famous -Lady._ - - -Madame _Philomena_ having finished her discourse, the Queene -perceiving, that her turne was the next, in regard of the priviledge -granted to _Dioneus_; with a smiling countenance thus she spake. Now or -never am I to maintaine the order which was instituted when we beganne -this commendable exercise, whereto I yeeld with all humble obedience. -And (worthy Ladies) I am to acquaint you with a Novell, in some sort -answerable to the precedent, not onely to let you know, how powerfully -your kindnesses do prevaile, in such as have a free and gentle soule: -but also to advise you, in being bountifull, where vertue doth justly -chalenge it. And evermore, let your favours shine on worthy deservers, -without the direction of chaunce or Fortune, who never bestoweth any -gift by discretion; but rashly without consideration, even to the first -she blindly meets withall. - -You are to understand then, that _Coppo di Borghese Domenichi_, who -was of our owne City, and perhaps (as yet) his name remaineth in great -and reverend authority, now in these dayes of ours, as well deserving -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 conversation among -his neighbours, to talke of matters concerning antiquity, and some -other things within compasse of his owne knowledge: which he would -deliver in such singular order, (having 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 us, that -sometime there lived 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 have -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, Joustes, Tiltes, Tournaments, and all -other noble actions of Armes, beside, sending her infinite rich and -costly presents, making spare of nothing, but lashing all out in lavish -expence. Notwithstanding, shee being no lesse honest then faire, made -no reckoning of whatsoever 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 live upon, the silly revenewes -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 poverty, no -way quailing his love to the Lady, but rather setting a keener edge -thereon; he saw the City life could no longer containe him, where most -he coveted 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 unto him, if he chanced to die -without a lawfull heire, hee substituted 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 -lived in such an honest kind of contented poverty. - -Hereupon, the young Gentleman her Sonne, taking great delight in -Hounds and Hawkes; grew into familiarity with poore _Frederigo_, and -having seene many faire flights of his Faulcon, they pleased him so -extraordinarily, that he earnestly desired to enjoy her as his owne; -yet durst not move 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 greeved exceedingly, -(as having no more but he, and therefore loved him the more entirely) -never 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 reveale it, and assuring him withall, that (if it were within -the compasse of possibility) he should have 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 have -_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 lovingly kept it, not suffering it ever to be out of his -sight. Moreover, shee remembred, how earnest in affection he had beene -to her, never thinking himselfe happy, but onely when he was in her -company; wherefore, shee entred into this private 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 ever flew? It is his onely -Jewell of delight, and that taken from him, no longer can he wish to -live in this World. How farre then voide of understanding shall I shew -my selfe, to rob a Gentleman of his sole felicity, having no other -joy or comfort left him? These and the like considerations, wheeled -about her troubled braine, onely in tender care and love 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 resolve, -shee returned no answer to her Sonne, but sate still in her silent -meditations. At the length, love to the youth, so prevailed 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 journey for the Faulcon, and assure thy selfe, that I will -bring it with me. Whereat the youth was so joyed, that he imagined, his -sicknesse began instantly a little to leave him, and promised him a -speedy recovery. - -Somewhat early the next morning, the Lady, in care of her sicke Sons -health, was up 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 arrivall there, he was (by chance) in a silly Garden, -on the backe-side of his House, because (as yet) it was no convenient -time for flight: but when he heard, that Madam _Giana_, was come -thither, and desired to have some conference with him; as one almost -confounded with admiration, in all haste he ran to her, and saluted her -with most humble reverence. 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 travailes, which heretofore you -pretended to suffer for my sake, when your love 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 reverence, thus he replyed. - -Madam, I doe not remember, that ever 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 deservings, and by the service in -which I did stand engaged to you. But my present happinesse can no way -bee equalled, derived from your super-abounding gracious favour, and -more then common course of kindnesse, vouchsafing (of your owne liberal -nature) to come and visit so poore a servant. Oh that I had as much to -spend againe, as heeretofore riotously I have run thorow: what a welcome -wold your poore Host bestow upon you, for gracing this homely house -with your divine presence? With these wordes, hee conducted her into -his house, and then into his simple Garden, where having no convenient -company for her, he saide. Madam, the poverty of this place is such, -that it affoordeth none fit for your conversation: 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 have stood him in some sted; yet hee had a heart as free and -forward as ever, not a jotte dejected in his minde, though utterly -overthrowne by Fortune. Alas! how was his good soule afflicted, that -he had nothing wherewith to honour his Lady? Up 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 covered 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 joyfull, that his credite was so well saved. 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 thought -to favour of a harsh, cruell, and un-womanly nature: I make no doubt, -but you will wonder at my present presumption, when you understande the -occasion, which expressely mooved me to come hither. But if you were -possessed of children, or ever had any, whereby you might comprehend -what love (in nature) is due unto them: then I durst assure my self, -that you would partly hold mee excused. - -Now, in regard that you never had any, and I my selfe (for my part) -have but 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 adverse 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 straungely 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 love you have born me, -for thereby 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 give 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 saved, and wee both shall for ever 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 service at dinner: he -stood like a man meerely dulled in his sences, the teares trickling -amaine downe his cheekes: and he not able to utter one word. Which -shee perceiving, began to conjecture 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 have it. Neverthelesse 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 devoted -to your service; Fortune hath bene crosse and contrary to mee, in -many occasions, as justly, 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 utter overthrow, and perpetuall -molestation. 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 have 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, having regard to your excellency, and what (by merit) is justly due -unto 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 having drest hir, so well -as I could devise to do: you have fed hartily on her, and I am proud -that I have so well bestowne her. But perceiving now, that you would -have her for your sicke Sonne; it is no meane affliction to mee, that I -am disabled of yeelding you contentment, which all my lifetime I have -desired to doe. - -To approve 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 whatsoever. Yet she -commended his height of spirit, which poverty had no power to abase. -Lastly, her hopes being frustrate for enjoying the Faulcon, and fearing -besides the health of her Sonne: she thanked _Frederigo_ for his -honourable kindnesse, returning home againe sad and melancholly. Shortly -after, her sonne either greeving that he could not have the Faulcone, -or by extreamity of his disease, chanced to dye, leaving his mother a -most wofull Lady. - -After so much time was expired, as conveniently might agree with sorrow -and mourning; her Brethren made many motions to her, to joyne her -selfe in marriage againe, because she was extraordinarily rich, and -as yet but yong in yeares. Now, although she was well contented never -to be married any more; yet being continually importuned by them, and -remembring the honourable 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 never leave it: but seeing you are so earnest for my -second marriage, let me plainly tell you, that I will never accept of -any other husband, but onely _Frederigo di Alberino_. - -Her brethren in scornfull manner reprooved 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 sorry for it. But give 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 poverty had disgraced him in the -Worlde: consented thereto, so she bestowed her selfe and her riches on -him. He on the other side, having so noble a Lady to his Wife, and the -same whome he had so long and deerely loved: submitted all his fairest -Fortunes unto her, became a better husband (for the world) then before, -and they lived and loved together in equall joy 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 loved) at supper -with her._ Pedro _returning whom upon a sudden, the young man was -hidden under a Coope for Hennes._ Pedro, _in excuse of his so soone -comming home, declareth, how in the House of_ Herculano _(with whom -he should have supt) a friend of his Wives was found, which was the -reason of the Suppers breaking off._ Pedroes _Wife reproving the error -of_ Herculanoes _Wife; An Asse (by chance) treads on the young mans -fingers, that lay hidden under the Hen-Coope. Uppon his crying out,_ -Pedro _steppeth thither, sees him, knowes him, and findeth the fallacy -of his Wife: with whom (neverthelesse) he groweth to agreement, in -regard of some imperfections in himselfe._ - -The tenth Novell. - -_Reprehending the cunning shifts, of light headed and immodest Women, -who, by abusing themselves, doe throw evill aspersions on all the Sexe._ - - -The Queenes Novell being ended, and all the company applauding the -happy fortune of _Frederigo_, as also the noble nature of Madam _Giana: -Dioneus_, who never expected any command, prepairing to deliver his -discourse, began in this manner. I know not, whether I should terme -it a vice accidental, and ensuing through the badnesse of complexions -uppon us mortals; or elsee an error in Nature, to joy and smile rather -at lewd accidents, then at deeds that justly deserve commendation, -especially, when they doe not any way concerne our selves. Now, in -regard that all the paines I have hitherto taken, and am also to -undergoe 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 favour a little of immodesty; yet in hearing it, you may -observe the same course, as you doe in pleasing and delightfull -Gardens, plucke a sweete Rose, and yet preserve 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 urgent necessity doth -require it. - -There dwelt (not long since) in _Perugia_, a wealthy man, named _Pedro -di Vinciolo_, who (perhaps) more to deceive some other, and restraine -an evill opinion, which the _Perugians_ had conceived 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 unkind courses, upbraided 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 private -thoughts. This Husband of mine liveth with me, as if he were no -Husband, or I his Wife; the marriage bed, which should be a comfort to -us 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 -conversation 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, elsee he had never 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 have coopt my -selfe up in a Cloyster, and shorne my selfe a Nunne, but that I was not -borne to such severity of life. My youth shall be blasted with age, -before I can truly understand 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 leave our memoriall to after times in -our race, as all our predecessours formerly have 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 living among so many temptations, which -flesh and bloud are not alwayes able to resist. Well, I meane to be -advised in this case, before I will hazard my honest reputation, either -to suspition or scandall, then which, no woman can have two heavier -enemies, and very few there are that can escape them. - -Having 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 (over and over) her -_Pater nosters_, and all the Cities holy pardons hanging at her girdle, -never talking of any thing, but the lives of the holy Fathers, or the -wounds of Saint _Frances_, all the World admiring her sanctity of -life, even as if shee were divinely inspired: this she Saint must be -our distressed womans Councellour, and having found out a convenient -season, at large she imparted all her mind to her, in some such manner -as formerly you have 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 -error in this life, then the losse of time, because it cannot be -recovered againe; and when the fiends themselves affright us, yet if -we keepe our embers still covered with warme ashes on the hearth, they -have nor any power to hurt us. If any one can truly speake thereof, -then I am able to deliver true testimony; 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 have 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 small -hearts griefe to me, that age should make me utterly 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 serve onely for mens contentation, and to bring -children, and therefore are they generally beloved, which if they -faile of, either it is by unfortunate marriage, or some imperfection -depending on nature, not through want of good will in themselves. We -have nothing in this world but what is given us, in which regard, we -are to make use of our time, and employ it the better while we have -it. For, when we grow to be old, our Husbands, yea, our very dearest -and nearest friends, will scarcely looke on us. 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 shelves. Nay, which is -worse, rimes and songs is made of us, even in meere contempt of our -age, and commendation of such as are young, the daintiest morselse -are fittest for them, and we referred to feed on the scrappes from -their trenchers, or such reversion as they can spare us. I tell thee -Daughter, thou couldst not make choyce of a meeter woman in all the -City, to whom thou mightest safely open thy minde, and knowes better -to advise thee then I doe. But remember withall, that I am poore, and -it is your part not to suffer poverty to be unsupplyed. I will make -thee partaker of all these blessed pardons, at every Altar I will say -a _Pater noster_, and an _Ave 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 invited -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 perceived, shee was almost halfe -dead with feare, and coveting to hide the young man, that her Husband -should not have any sight of him, shee had no other meanes, but in an -entry, hard by the Parlour where they purposed to have supt, stood a -Coope or Hen-pen, wherein she used to keepe her Pullen, under which he -crept, and then shee covered 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 she saide: It seemes Sir you -are a shaver at your meate, that you have made so short a supper. In -troth Wife (quoth he) I have 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 unto us we heard one sneeze, whereof at the first we made no -reckoning, untill 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 us, -and would not let us 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 perceived, 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 savour before) as made us -likewise to cough and sneeze, being no way able to refraine it. She -seeing her Husband to be much moved, excused the matter thus, that (but -a little while before) shee had whited certaine linnen with the smoake -of brimstone, as it is an usuall thing to doe, and then set the pan -into that spare place, because it should not be offensive to us. 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, even as if his heart would have split in twaine. Foorth -he pluckt him by the heeles, and perceiving how matters had past, he -saide to her. I thanke you Wife, now I see the reason, why you kept us -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 discovery -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 have 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 recovered; by the perswasion of some Neighbours comming -in: he was closely conveyed 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 perceived, that other -Women were subject to the like infirmity, and as wise for themselves, -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 serve to acquite her: but because in blaming others -errors, our owne may sometime chance to escape discovery, and cleare -us, albeit we are as guilty; in a sharpe reprehending manner, thus -she began. See Husband, here is hansome behaviour, of an holy faire -seeming, and Saint-like woman, to whom I durst have confest my sinnes, -I conceived such a religious perswasion of her lives integrity, free -from the least scruple of taxation. A woman, so farre stept into -yeeres, as shee is, to give such an evill 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 given; an universall shame and slaunder, to -all the good women of our City. - -Shall I terme her a woman, or rather some savage monster in a womans -shape? Hath shee not made am 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 elsee in the City doe their wives; what an -heart-breake must this needes be to him, good man? Neither I, nor any -honest man elsee, ought to have 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 under the Hen-coope; shee began to advise her -Husband, that he would be pleased to goe to bed, because the night -passed on apace. But _Pedro_, having a better will to eate, then to -sleepe, desired her to let him have some meate, else hee must goe to -bed with an empty bellie; whereto shee answered. Why Husband (quoth -shee) do I make any large provision, 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 over-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, having their Asses -laden with such provision, as was to be used in his City-house. When -the Asses were unladen, and set up 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 under the Hen-pen. Now, he being -constrained (like a Carpe) to lie flat on his belly, because the Coope -was over-weighty for him to carry, and one of his hands more extended -forth, then was requisite for him in so urgent 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 removed not his foote, but rather trod the -more firmely on his hand. Comming to the Coope, driving thence the -Asse, and taking off the old sacke, he espyed the young man, who, -beside the painfull anguish he felt of his fingers, arose up 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 doe 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; wherein the youth fully resolved -him. - -_Pedro_ being no lesse joyfull 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 use (even now) against the wife of _Herculano_, -maintaining that shee had shamed all other women, and justly deserved -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 urged you thereto, but that all women are of one and the same -condition, covering their owne grosse faults by farre inferiour -infirmities in others. You are a perverse generation, meerely false in -your fairest shewes. - -When she saw that he offered her no other violence, but gave 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, dissembling hypocrite? yet she can have of him -whatsoever she desireth, and he useth her as a woman ought to be, which -favour I could never 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 every way as necessarily required, both for the preservation -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 leave some remembrance of woman-hood behind me. I tell thee plainly -_Pedro_, I am a woman as others are, and subject 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 endeavour thou to win the worthy title of a Father, because I was -made to be a Mother. - -When _Pedro_ perceived, that his Wife had spoken nothing but reason, -in regard of his over-much neglect towards her, and not using 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 -anything, 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 forgiven, let us to supper, and we are all friends. -She seeing his anger was so well appeased, lovingly kissed him, and -laying the cloth, set on the supper, which shee had provided for her -selfe & the youth, and so they supt together merrily, not one unkind -word passing betweene them. After supper, the youth was sent away in -friendly manner, and _Pedro_ was alwayes afterward more loving to his -Wife, then formerly he had been, and no complaint passed on either -side, but mutuall joy and houshold contentment, such as ought to be -betweene man and wife. - -_Dioneus_ having ended his Tale, for which the Ladies returned him no -thankes, but rather angerly frowned on him: the Queene, knowing that -her government 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_ having received 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 have long since heard, that with witty words, ready answers, and -sudden jests or taunts, many have checkt & reproved 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, have encountred a scorner in his owne intention, and layed -the blame where it justly belonged. Every one commended the Queenes -appointment, because it savoured of good wit and judgement; and the -Queene being risen, they were all discharged till supper time, falling -to such severall exercises as themselves best fancyed. - -When supper was ended, and the instruments layed before them; by the -Queenes consent, Madam _Æmillia_ undertooke the daunce, and the Song -was appointed to _Dioneus_, who began many, but none that proved to any -liking, they were so palpably obscene and idle, savouring 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 deprivde of sweete attention? - Thoughts, have you lost your quiet silent sleeping? - Wit, who hath robde thee of thy rare invention? - The lacke of these, being life and motion giving: - Are sencelesse shapes, and no true signes of living. - - Eyes, when you gazde upon her Angell beauty; - Eares, while you heard her sweete delicious straines, - Thoughts (sleeping then) did yet performe their duty, - Wit, then tooke sprightly pleasure in his paines. - While shee did live, 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 -themselves to their Chambers, where we will leave them till to morrow -morning. - - -_The end of the Fifth Day._ - - -FINIS. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Decameron (Day 1 to Day 5), by -Giovanni Boccaccio - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 52617 *** diff --git a/old/52617-h/52617-h.htm b/old/52617-h/52617-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index b7f1374..0000000 --- a/old/52617-h/52617-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,19113 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Decameron: The First Five Days, by Giovanni Boccaccio. - </title> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; 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*/ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; -} /* page numbers */ - - - - - -.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} - -.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} - -.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} - -.bbox {border: solid 2px;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.u {text-decoration: underline;} - -.gesperrt -{ - letter-spacing: 0.2em; - margin-right: -0.2em; -} - -em.gesperrt -{ - font-style: normal; -} - - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - - - -/* Poetry */ -.poem { - margin-left:10%; - margin-right:10%; - text-align: left; -} - -.poem br {display: none;} - -.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} - - - .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i11 {display: block; margin-left: 5.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i13 {display: block; margin-left: 6.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i15 {display: block; margin-left: 7.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 1.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i5 {display: block; margin-left: 2.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 52617 ***</div> - - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 576px;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="576" alt="Titlepage Decameron 1" /> -</div> - -<h1>THE<br /> -DECAMERON</h1> - -<h2>CONTAINING<br /> -An hundred pleasant<br /> -Novels.</h2> - -<h3><i>Wittily discoursed, betweene<br /> -seaven Honourable Ladies, and<br /> -three Noble Gentlemen.</i></h3> - -<h4>London, printed by<br /> -Isaac Jaggard,<br /> -1620.</h4> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="The_Epistle_Dedicatory" id="The_Epistle_Dedicatory">The Epistle Dedicatory.</a></h2> - - -<h4>TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, -<span class="smcap">Sir Phillip Herbert</span>, Knight -of the Bath at the Coronation of our Soveraigne Lord -King James, Lord Baron of Sherland, Earle of -Montgomery, and Knight of the most Noble -Order of the Garter, &c.</h4> - - -<p><i>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:</i> By resorting -to the dead, and having familiar -conversation with them. <i>Intimating -thereby:</i> The reading of ancient -and moderne Histories, and endeavouring to learne -such good instructions, as have bene observed in our Predecessors. -<i>A Question also was mooved by great King</i> Ptolomy, -<i>to one of the learned wise Interpreters. In what occasions a King -should exercise himselfe, whereto thus hee replyed:</i> To know -those things which formerly have bin done: And to read -Bookes of those matters which offer themselves dayly, or -are fittest for our instant affaires. And lastly, in seeking -those things whatsoever, that make for a Kingdomes preservation, -and the correction of evill manners or examples.</p> - -<p><i>Upon these good and warrantable grounds (most Noble Lord) -beside many more of the same Nature, which I omit, to avoide 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 gravity and gray-headed -age speaketh maturely in them, to the no meane admiration of -common and vulgar judgement. As contrariwise, such as are ignorant -of things done and past, before themselves had any being: continue -still in the estate of children, able to speake or behave themselves -no otherwise; and, even within the bounds of their Native -Countries (in respect of knowledge or manly capacity) they are no -more then well-seeming dumbe Images.</i></p> - -<p><i>In due consideration of the precedent allegations, and uppon 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, -under your Noble patronage and defence, to be safely sheelded from -foule-mouthed slander and detraction, which is too easily throwne -upon the very best deserving labours.</i></p> - -<p><i>I know (most worthy Lord) that many of them have (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 -favouring of his singular morall applications. For, as it was his -full scope and ayme, by discovering all Vices in their ugly deformities, -to make their mortall enemies (the sacred Vertues) to shine -the clearer, being set downe by them, and compared with them: so -every true and upright judgement, in observing the course of these -well-carried Novels, shall plainly perceive, that there is no spare -made of reproofe in any degree whatsoever, where sin is embraced, -and grace neglected; but the just deserving shame and punishment -thereon inflicted, that others may be warned by their example. In -imitation of witty</i> Æsope; <i>who reciteth not a Fable, but graceth it -with a judicious morall application; as many other worthy Writers -have done the like.</i></p> - -<p><i>For instance, let me heere insert one. A poore man, having a pike -staffe on his shoulder, and travailing thorow a Countrey Village, a -great Mastive 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 Judge, alledged, that he had slaine his servant, -which defended his life, house, and goods, and therefore challenged -satisfaction. The Judge leaning more in favour to the Plaintiffe, -as being his friend, neighbour, and familiar, then to the justice -and equity of the cause; reprooved the poore fellow somewhat sharpely, -and peremptorily commanded him, to make satisfaction, or els he -would commit him to prison. That were injustice replyed the poore -man, because I kilde the dogge in defence of mine owne life, which -deserveth much better respect then a million of such Curres. Sirra, -sirra, saide the Judge, then you should have turned the other end of -your staffe, and not the pike, so the dogges life had beene saved, and -your owne in no danger. True Sir (quoth the fellow) if the dog would -have turn'd his taile, and bit mee with that, and not his teeth, then -we both had parted quietly.</i></p> - -<p><i>I know your honour to be so truly judicious, that your selfe can -make the moral 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 uttermost endeavours, to bee alwayes -ready at your service.</i></p> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="The_Authors_Prologue_to_the_Lords_Ladies" id="The_Authors_Prologue_to_the_Lords_Ladies"><i>The Authors Prologue, to the Lords, Ladies, -and Gentlewomen.</i></a></h2> - - -<p>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 having -already stood in neede of comfort, do therefore most -needfully deserve to enjoy it. Among whom, if ever any -were in necessity, found it most precious, and thereforey received -no small contentment, I am one of them; because from my verie -yongest yeeres, even untill this instant: mine affections became extraordinarily -enflamed, in a place high and Noble, more (perhaps) then beseemed -my humble condition, albeit no way distasted in the judgement -of such as were discreete, when it came truly to their knowledge and understanding. -Yet (indeed) it was very painfull for me to endure, not in -regard of her cruelty, whom I so deerely loved; as for want of better government -in mine owne carriage; being altogether swayed by rash and -peevish passions, which made my afflictions more offensive to mee, then -either wisedome allowed, or suited with my private particular.</p> - -<p>But, as counsell in misery is no meane comfort, so the good advice of -a worthy friend, by many sound and singular perswasions, wrought such -a deliberate alteration; as not onely preserved my life (which was before -in extreame perill) but also gave conclusion to my inconsiderate love, -which in my precedent refractarie carriage, no deliberation, counsell, evident -shame, or whatsoever 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 delivering me likewise from infinite -perplexities.</p> - -<p>And because the acknowledgement of good turnes or courtesies received -(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 releeved me, because their owne better -understanding, 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 availe the common -needie, yet (methinkes) where greefe is greatest, and calamity most insulteth; -there ought to be our paines soundly imployed, and our gravest -instructions and advise wholly administred.</p> - -<p>And who can deny, but that it is much more convenient, to commisserate -the distresse of Ladies and Gentlewomen, then the more able condition -of men? They, as being naturally bashfull and timorous, have 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 -have bin subject to the greatest proofe. Moreover, they being restrained -from their wils and desires, by the severity of Fathers, Mothers, Bretheren, -and Husbands, are shut up (most part of their time) in their Chambers, -where constrainedly sitting idle, diversity of straunge cogitations -wheele up and downe their braines, forging as many severall imaginations, -which cannot be alwayes pleasant and contenting. If melancholly, -incited by some amorous or lovely apprehension, oppresse their weake -and unresisting hearts: they must be glad to beare it patiently (till by better -Fortune) such occasions happen, as may overcome so proud an usurpation.</p> - -<p>Moreover, we cannot but confesse, that they are lesse able, then men, -to support such oppressions: for if men grow affectionate, wee plainely -perceive, when any melancholly troublesome thoughts, or what greefes -else can any way concerne them, their soules are not subject 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 have a particular -power in themselves, 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.</p> - -<p>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 love, and thereby -are most in neede of comfort (and not they that can handle the Needle, -Wheele, and Distaffe) I have provided an hundred Novelles, Tales, Fables, -or Histories, with judicious moralles belonging to them, for your -more delight, and queinter exercise. In a faire and worthy assembly, of -seven 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 severall day.</p> - -<p>In which pleasing Novels, may be observed many strange accidents of -Love, and other notable adventures, happening as well in our times, as -those of graver antiquity: by reading whereof, you may receyve both -pleasure and profitable counsell, because in them you shal perceive, both -the sin to be shunned, and the vertue to be embraced; which as I -wholly hate the one, so I do (and ever will) honour -the others advancement.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2><i>The Table.</i></h2> - - -<p><a href="#The_Epistle_Dedicatory">The Epistle Dedicatory.</a></p> - - -<p><a href="#The_Authors_Prologue_to_the_Lords_Ladies">The Authors Prologue, to the Lords, Ladies, and Gentlewomen.</a></p> - - -<p><a href="#THE_DECAMERON">The First Day, Governed by Madam Pampinea.</a></p> - - -<p><a href="#Messire_Chappelet_du_Prat_by_making_a_false_confession_beguyled_an_holy_Religious">1. Novell.</a> - -<i>Messire Chappelet du Prat, by making a -false confession, beguiled an holy religious -man, and after dyed. And having during -his life time, bene a very bad man, at his death -was reputed to be a Saint, and called S. Chappelet.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Abraham_a_Jew_being_admonished_or_advised_by_a_friend_of_his_named_Jehannot">2. Novell.</a> - -<i>Abraham a Jew, beeing admonished or advised -by a friend of his, named Jehannot de Chevigny, -travailed from Paris unto Rome: And beholding -there, the wicked behaviour of men in the -Church, returned to Paris againe, where (neverthelesse) -he became a Christian.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Melchisedech_a_Jew_by_recounting_a_Tale_of_three_Rings_to_the_great_Soldan">3. Novell.</a> - -<i>Melchisedech a Jewe, by recounting a tale of -three Rings, to the great Soldan, named Saladine, -prevented a great danger which was prepared -for him.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#A_Monke_having_committed_an_offence_deserving_to_be_very_grievously_punished">4. Novell.</a> - -<i>A monke having committed an offence, deserving -to be very greevously punished; freed himselfe -from the paine to be inflicted on him, by wittily reprehending -his Abbot, with the very same fault.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#The_Lady_Marquesse_of_Montferrat_with_a_Banquet_of_Hennes_and_divers">5. Novell.</a> - -<i>Lady Marquesse of Montferrat, with a Banket -of Hens, and divers other gracious speeches beside, -repressed the fond love of the King of France.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#An_honest_plaine_meaning_man_simply_and_conscionably_reprehended_the_malignity">6. Novell.</a> - -<i>An honest plaine meaning man (simply & conscionably) -reprehended the malignity, hypocrisie, -and misdemeanour of many religious persons.</i></p> - -<p><a href="#Bergamino_by_telling_a_Tale_of_a_skilfull_man_named_Primasso_and_of_an_Abbot">7. Novell.</a> - -<i>Bergamino, by telling a Tale of a skilfull man, -named Primasso, and of an Abbot of Clugni; -honestly checked a new kinde of covetousnesse, in -Master Can de la Scala.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Guillaume_Boursier_with_a_few_quaint_and_familiar_words_checkt_the_miserable">8. Novell.</a> - -<i>Guillaume Boursieur, with a few quaint & familiar -words, checkt the miserable covetousness -of Signior Herminio de Grimaldi.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#The_King_of_Cyprus_was_wittily_reprehended_by_the_words_of_a_Gentlewoman">9. Novell.</a> - -<i>How the King of Cyprus was wittily reprehended, -by the words of a Gentlewoman of Gascoignie, -and became vertuously altered from his -vicious disposition.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Master_Albert_of_Bullen_honestly_made_a_Lady_to_blush_that_thought_to_have">10. Novell.</a> - -<i>Master Albert of Bullen, honestly made a Lady -to blush, that thought to have done as much -to him, because she perceived him to be amorously -affected towardes her.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#The_Second_Day">The second Day, governed by -Madam Philomena.</a></p> - - -<p><a href="#Martellino_counterfetting_to_be_lame_of_his_members_caused_himselfe_to_be_set">1. Novell.</a> - -<i>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 recovery: but when his dissimulation -was discovered, he was well beaten, being -afterward taken prisoner, and in great danger -of being hanged and strangled by the necke, and -yet escaped in the end.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Rinaldo_de_Este_after_he_was_robbed_by_Theeves_arrived_at_Chasteau_Guillaume">2. Novell.</a> - -<i>Rinaldo de Este, after he was robbed by theeves -arrived at Chasteau Guillaume, where he was -friendly lodged by a faire Widow, and recompenced -likewise for all his losses; returning afterward -safe and well home unto his owne house.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Three_young_Gentlemen_being_brethren_and_having_spent_all_their_Lands_and">3. Novell.</a> - -<i>Of three yong Gentlemen, being Brethren, and -having spent all their Landes and possessions -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 Unckles losses, and seating them again -in good estate.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Landolpho_Ruffolo_falling_into_poverty_became_a_Pirate_on_the_Seas_and">4. Novell.</a> - -<i>Landolpho Ruffolo, falling into poverty, became -a Pirate on the Seas, and beeing taken by the -Genewayes, hardly escaped drowning: Which yet -(neverthelesse) he did, upon a little chest or coffer -full of very rich Jewels, beeing carried thereon to -Corfu, where he was well entertained by a good -woman: and afterward, returned richly home to -his owne house.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Andrea_de_Piero_travelling_from_Perouse_to_Naples_to_buy_Horses_was_in">5. Novell.</a> - -<i>Andrea de Piero, travelling from Perouse unto -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.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Madame_Beritola_Caracalla_was_found_in_an_Island_with_two_Goates_having">6. Novell.</a> - -<i>Madame Beritola Caracalla, was found in an -Island with two Goates, having lost her two -sons, and thence travailed into Lunigiana: where -one of her Sonnes became servant to the Lord thereof, -and was found some-what over-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.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#The_Soldan_of_Babylon_sent_one_of_his_Daughters_to_be_joyned_in_marriage_with">7. Novell.</a> - -<i>The Soldane of Babylon sent one of his Daughters, -to be joyned in marriage with the King of -Cholcos; who by divers accidents (in the space of -foure yeares) happened into the custodie of nine -men, and in sundry places. At length, being restored -back 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.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#The_Count_DAngiers_being_falsly_accused_was_banished_out_of_France_left">8. Novell.</a> - -<i>Count D'Angiers being falsely accused, was banished -out of France, and left his two children -in England in divers places. Returning afterward -(unknowne) thorough Scotland, hee found them -advanced unto great dignity: Then, repairing in -the habit of a Servitor, into the King of Fraunce -his army, and his innocency made publikely knowen, -he was reseated in his former honourable degree.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Bernardo_a_Merchant_of_Geneway_being_deceived_by_another_Merchant">9. Novell.</a> - -<i>Bernardo, a Merchant of Geneway, being deceived -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 servant to the Soldan. -The deceiver being found at last, she compassed such -means, that her husband Bernardo came into Alexandria, -and there after due punishment inflicted -on the false deceiver, she resumed the garments -againe of a woman, and returned home with her -Husband to Geneway.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Pagamino_da_Monaco_a_roving_Pirate_on_the_Seas_caried_away_the_faire">10. Novell.</a> - -<i>Pagamino da Monaco, a roving Pyrate on the -seas, caried away the faire Wife of Signieur -Ricciardo di Chinzica, who understanding where -shee was, went thither; and falling into friendship -with Pagamino, demanded his wife of him; whereto -he yeelded, provided, that she would willingly go -away with him: shee denied to part thence with -her husband, and Signior Ricciardo dying, shee became -the wife of Pagamino.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#The_Third_Day">The third day, governed by Madame -<i>Neiphila</i>.</a></p> - - -<p><a href="#Massetto_di_Lamporechio_by_counterfetting_himselfe_to_be_dumbe_became_a">1. Novell.</a> - -<i>Massetto di Lamporechio, by counterfetting -himselfe dumbe, became a Gardiner in a -Monastery of Nuns, where he had familiar -conversation with them all.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#A_Querry_of_the_Stable_belonging_to_Agilulffo_King_of_the_Lombards_found">2. Novell.</a> - -<i>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 discovered by -the King, and the party knowne, hee gave him a -marke, by shearing the hair 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.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Under_colour_of_Confession_and_of_a_most_pure_conscience_a_faire_young_Gentlewoman">3. Novell.</a> - -<i>Under colour of confession and of a most pure conscience, -a faire yong Gentlewoman, being amorously -affected to an honest man; induced a devout -and solemne religious Friar, to advise her in the -meanes (without his suspition or perceiving) how to -enjoy the benefit of her friend, and bring her desires -to their full effect.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#A_yong_Scholler_named_Felice_enstructed_Puccio_di_Rinieri_how_to_become">4. Novell.</a> - -<i>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 favour of -his daughter.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Ricciardo_surnamed_the_Magnifico_gave_a_Horse_to_Signior_Francesco_Vergellisi">5. Novell.</a> - -<i>Ricciardo, surnamed the Magnifico, gave a horse -to signior Francesco Vergellisi, upon condition; -that by his leave 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.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Ricciardo_Minutolo_fell_in_love_with_the_Wife_of_Philippello_Fighinolfi">6. Novell.</a> - -<i>Ricciardo Minutolo fell in love with the Wife of -Philippello Fighinolfi, and knowing her to bee -very jealous of her husband, gave her to understand, -that he was greatly enamored of his Wife, -and had appointed to meete her privatly 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 deceived by the said -Ricciardo.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Thebaldo_Elisei_having_received_an_unkinde_repulse_by_his_beloved_departed">7. Novell.</a> - -<i>Thebaldo Elisei, having received an unkinde repulse -by his beloved, 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 unto her. Hee delivered -her husband from the danger of death, because it -was proved that he had slaine Thebaldo, he made -peace with his brethren, and in the end, wisely enjoyed -his hearts desire.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Ferando_by_drinking_a_certaine_kinde_of_Powder_was_buried_for_dead_And">8. Novell.</a> - -<i>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 grave, -and put into a darke prison, where they made him -beleeve that he was in purgatory: afterward when -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.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Juliet_of_Narbona_cured_the_King_of_France_of_a_daungerous_Fistula_in_recompence">9. Novell.</a> - -<i>Juliet of Narbona, cured the King of France of a -dangerous Fistula: in recompence whereof, she requested -to enjoy as her husband in mariage, Bertrand -the Count of Roussillion. He having maried -her against his wil, as utterly despising her, went -to Florence, where he made love to a yong Gentlewoman. -Juliet, 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 -unto the Count, hee accepted her into his favour againe, -and loved her as his loyall and honourable -wife.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#The_wonderfull_and_chaste_resolved_continency_of_faire_Serictha_daughter_to">10. Novell.</a> - -<i>The wonderfull and chaste resolved continencie -of faire Serictha, daughter to Siwalde King of -Denmarke, who beeing sought and sued unto by -many worthy persons, that did affect her dearely, -would not looke any man in the face, untill such -time as she was maried.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#The_Fourth_Day">The Fourth Day, governed by -Philostratus.</a></p> - - -<p><a href="#Tancrede_Prince_of_Salerne_caused_the_amorous_friend_of_his_daughter_to_be">1. Novell.</a> - -<i>Tancrede, Prince of Salerne, 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.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Fryar_Albert_made_a_young_Venetian_Gentlewoman_beleeve_that_God_Cupid">2. Novell.</a> - -<i>Friar Albert made a yong Venetian Gentlewoman -beleeve, that God Cupid was falne in love -with her, and he resorted oftentimes unto 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 savage man, he was -brought upon the Rialto of S. Mark, & being there -publikely knowne by the Brethren of his Order, he -was committed to prison.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Three_yong_Gentlemen_affecting_three_Sisters_fledde_with_them_into_Candie">3. Novell.</a> - -<i>Three yong Gentlemen affecting three Sisters, -fled with them into Canaie. The eldest of them -(through jealousie) becommeth the death of her -Lover. The second, by consenting to the Duke of -Canaies request, is the meanes of saving 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 confesse -the fact: and fearing death, by corruption of money -they prevaile with their keepers, escaping from -thence to Rhodes, where they died in great poverty.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Gerbino_contrary_to_the_former_plighted_faith_of_his_Grand-father_King_Gulielmo">4. Novell.</a> - -<i>Gerbino, contrarie to the former plighted faith -of his Grandfather King Gulielmo, soughte -with a ship at sea belonging to the King of Thunis -to take away his daughter, who was then in the -same ship. She being slaine by them that had the -possession of her, he likewise slew them; and afterward -had his owne head smitten off.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#The_three_Brethren_to_Isabella_slew_a_Gentleman_that_secretly_loved_her_His">5. Novell.</a> - -<i>The three Brethren to Isabella, slew a Gentleman -that secretly loved 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 -herbes are usually set in, she watered it (a long -while) with her teares: whereof her Brethren having -intelligence; soone after she died, with meere -conceite of sorrow.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#A_beautifull_yong_Virgin_named_Andreana_became_enamored_of_a_yong_Gentleman">6. Novell.</a> - -<i>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 unto -her; whereupon Gabriello fell down sodainly dead. -She, and her Chamber-maid were apprehended by -the Officers belonging unto 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 understanding of her Father, who approved -the innocence of his daughter, and compassed her -deliverance. But she afterward, being wearie of -all worldly felicities, entred into Religion, & became -a Nun.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Faire_Simonida_affecting_Pasquino_and_walking_with_him_in_a_pleasant_garden">7. Novell.</a> - -<i>Faire Simonida affecting Pasquino, and walking -with him in a pleasant garden, it fortuned -that Pasquino rubbed his teeth with a leaf of -Sage, and immediately fell downe dead. Simonida -being brought before the bench of Justice, and -charged with the death of Pasquino: she rubbed -her teeth likewise, with one of the leaves of the -same Sage, as declaring what she saw him do, & -thereon she dyed also in the same manner.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Jeronimo_affecting_a_yong_Maiden_named_Silvestra_was_constrained_by_the">8. Novell.</a> - -<i>Jeronimo affecting a yong Mayden named Silvestra -was constrained by the earnest importunity -of his Mother, to take a journey to Paris. At -his returne home from thence againe, he found his -love Silvestra maried. By secret meanes he got entrance -into her house and dyed upon the bed lying -by her. Afterward, his body being caried unto the -Church to receive buriall, shee likewise died there -instantly upon his coarse.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Messer_Guiglielmo_of_Rossiglione_having_slaine_Messer_Guiglielmo_Guardastagno">9. Novell.</a> - -<i>Messer Guiglielmo of Rossiglione having slaine -Messer Guiglielmo Guardastagno, whom he imagined -to love his wife, gave 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.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#A_Physitians_wife_laide_a_Lover_of_her_Maids_supposing_him_to_bee_dead_in_a">10. Novell.</a> - -<i>A Physitians wife laid a Lover of her maids, supposing -him to be dead, in a chest, by reason that -he had drunke water which usually was given to -procure a sleepy entrancing. Two Lombard Usurers, -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 Justice, accuseth her self for putting -the imagined dead body into the chest, whereby -he escaped hanging: and the Theeves which -stole away the chest, were condemned to pay a very -great summe of money.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#THE_FIFT_DAY">The Fift day, Governed by Madame -Fiammetta.</a></p> - - -<p><a href="#Chynon_by_falling_in_love_became_wise_and_by_force_of_Armes_winning_his">1. Novell.</a> - -<i>Chynon, by falling in love, became wise, and -by force of Armes, winning his faire Ladye -Iphigenia on the seas, was afterward imprisoned -at Rhodes. Being delivered by one name Lysimachus -with him he recovered his Iphigenia againe, -and faire Cassandra even in the middest of -their mariage. They fled with them into Candye, -where after they had maried them, they were called -home to their owne dwelling.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Faire_Constance_of_Liparis_fell_in_love_with_Martuccio_Gomito_and_hearing">2. Novell.</a> - -<i>Faire Constance of Liparis, fell in Love with -Martuccio Gomito: and hearing that hee was -dead, desperately she entred into a Barke which -being transported by the winds to Susa in Barbary, -from thence she went to Thunis, where she found -him to be living. There she made her selfe knowne -to him, and he being in great authority, as a privy -Counsellor to the King: he maried the saide Constance, -and returned richly home to her, to the Island -of Liparis.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Pedro_Bocamazzo_escaping_away_with_a_yong_Damosell_which_he_loved_named">3. Novell.</a> - -<i>Pedro Bocamazzo, escaping away with a yong -Damosel which he loved, named Angelina, met -with Theeves in his journey. The Damosel flying -fearfully into a Forest, by chaunce commeth to a -Castle. Pedro being taken by the theeves, & hapning -afterward to escape from them, accidentally -came to the same Castle where Angelina was: & -marying her, they then returned home to Rome.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Ricciardo_Manardy_was_found_by_Messer_Lizio_da_Valbonna_as_he_sate_fast">4. Novell.</a> - -<i>Ricciardo Manardy, was found by Messer Lizio -da Valbonna, as he sat fast asleep at his daughters -chamber window, having his hand fast in hirs -and sleeping in the same manner. Whereupon they -were joyned together in mariage, and their long -loyall love mutually recompenced.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Guidotto_of_Cremona_departing_out_of_this_mortall_life_left_a_Daughter_of_his">5. Novell.</a> - -<i>Guidotto of Cremona, departing out of this mortall -life, left a daughter of his with Jacomino -of Pavia. Giovanni di Severino, and Menghino da -Minghole, fell both in love with the yong Maiden, -and fought for her; who being afterward knowne -to be the sister to Giovanni, shee was given in mariage -to Menghino.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Guion_di_Procida_being_found_familiarly_conversing_with_a_young_Damosell">6. Novell.</a> - -<i>Guion di Procida, being found familiarly conversing -with a yong Damosel which he loved, -and had bene given formerly to Frederigo King of -Sicily: was bound to a stake to bee consumed with -fire. From which danger (neverthelesse) hee escaped; -being knowne by Don Rogiero de Oria, Lorde -Admirall of Sicily, and afterward marryed the -Damosel.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Theodoro_falling_in_love_with_Violenta_the_Daughter_to_his_Master_named">7. Novell.</a> - -<i>Theodoro falling in love with Violenta, the -daughter to his Master, named Amarigo, and -she conceyving with childe by him, was condemnd -to be hanged. As they were leading him unto the -gallowes, beating and misusing him all the way: -hee happened to bee knowne by his owne Father, -whereupon he was released, and afterward injoyed -Violenta in mariage.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Anastasio_a_Gentleman_of_the_Family_of_the_Honesti_by_loving_the_Daughter">8. Novell.</a> - -<i>Anastasio, a Gentleman of the Family of the -Honesti by loving the daughter to Signior Paulo -Traversario, lavishly wasted a great part of -his substance, without receiving any love 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 -gave her to be devoured by his hounds. Anastasio -invited his friends, and hers also whom he so -dearly loved, to take part of a dinner with him, -who likewise sawe the same Damosell so torne in -peeces: which his unkind love perceiving, & fearing -least the like ill fortune should happen to her, -she accepted Anastasio to bee her husband.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Frederigo_of_the_Alberighi_Family_loved_a_Gentlewoman_and_was_not_requited">9. Novell.</a> - -<i>Frederigo, of the Alberighi Family, loved a -Gentlewoman, and was not requited with like -love againe. By bountifull expences, and over liberal -invitations, hee wasted and consumed all his -lands and goods, having nothing lefte him, but a -Hawke or Faulcon. His unkinde Mistresse, happeneth -to come visit him, and he not having 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.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Pedro_di_Vinciolo_went_to_sup_at_a_friends_House_in_the_City_His_Wife_in_the">10. Novell.</a> - -<i>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 loved, at supper with her. -Pedro returning home upon a sodaine, the young -man was hidden under a Coope for Hens. Pedro, -in excuse of his so soone coming home, declareth; -how in the house of Herculano (with whome hee -should have supt) a friend of his wives was found, -which was the reason of the suppers breaking off. -Pedroes wife reproving the error of Herculanoes -wife: an Asse (by chance) treades on the young -mans fingers that lay hidden under the Henne-Coope. -Upon his crying out, Pedro steppeth thither, -sees him, knowes him, and findeth the fallacie of -his wife: with whom (neverthelesse) he groweth -to agreement, in regard of some imperfections in -himselfe.</i></p> - - -<h4>The End of the Table.</h4> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="THE_DECAMERON" id="THE_DECAMERON">THE DECAMERON,<br /> -Containing, an Hundred pleasant<br /> -<span class="smcap">Novelles</span>.</a></h2> - - -<h4><i>Wherein, after demonstration made by the Author, upon what occasion it hapned, -that the persons (of whom we shall speake heereafter) should thus meete -together, to make so queint a Narration of Novels: Hee declareth unto you, -that they first begin to devise and conferre, under the government of Madam -Pampinea, and of such matters as may be most pleasing to them all.</i></h4> - - -<h4>The Induction of the Author, to the -following Discourses.</h4> - - -<p>Gracious Ladies, so often as I consider -with my selfe, and observe respectively, how naturally -you are enclined to compassion; as many -times do I acknowledge, that this present worke -of mine, will (in your judgement) appeare to -have but a harsh and offensive beginning, in regard -of the mournfull remembrance it beareth at -the verie entrance of the last Pestilentiall mortality, -universally 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 wish, that so -fearefull a beginning, should seeme but as an high and steepy hill appeares -to them, that attempt to travell farre on foote, and ascending the same -with some difficulty, come afterward to walk upon a goodly even plaine, -which causeth the more contentment in them, because the attaining -thereto was hard and painfull. For, even as pleasures are cut off by griefe -and anguish; so sorrowes cease by joyes most sweete and happie arriving.</p> - -<p>After this breefe molestation, 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 (peradventure) could not bee expected by such a beginning, if -promise stoode not thereunto engaged. And indeed, if I could wel have -conveyed you to the center of my desire, by any other way, then so rude -and rocky a passage as this is, I would gladly have 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 (even as constrained thereto by meere -necessity) in writing after this manner.</p> - -<p>The yeare of our blessed Saviours incarnation, 1348. that memorable -mortality happened in the excellent City, farre beyond all the rest in -<i>Italy</i>; which plague, by operation of the superiour bodies, or rather for -our enormous iniquities, by the just anger of God was sent upon us mortals. -Some few yeeres before, it tooke beginning in the Easterne partes, -sweeping thence an innumerable quantity of living soules: extending it -selfe afterward from place to place Westward, untill it seized on the said -City. Where neither humane skill or providence, could use any prevention, -notwithstanding it was cleansed of many annoyances, by diligent -Officers thereto deputed: besides prohibition of all sickly persons enterance, -and all possible provision dayly used for conservation of such as -were in health, with incessant prayers and supplications of devoute people, -for the asswaging of so dangerous a sicknesse.</p> - -<p>About the beginning of the yeare, it also began in very strange manner, -as appeared by divers admirable effects; yet not as it had done in the -East Countries, where Lord or Lady being touched therewith, manifest -signes of inevitable death followed thereon, by bleeding at the nose. But -here it began with yong children, male and female, either under 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 divers 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 -everie part else of the body: in some great and few, in others small and -thicke.</p> - -<p>Now as the Byle (at the beginning) was an assured signe of neere approaching -death; so prooved 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 proceeded, and so by consequent, no resolution -was to be determined. Moreover, beside the number of such as -were skilfull in Art, many more both women and men, without ever having -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 Feaver, or any other accident.</p> - -<p>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 used in his service, seemed to transferre the -disease from the sicke to the sound, in very rare and miraculous manner. -Among which matter of marvell, 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 beleeve 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, even 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.</p> - -<p>Mine owne eyes (as formerly I have said) among divers other, one day -had evident 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 every dung-hill, tossed and -tumbled the cloathes with their snouts, rubbing their heads likewise uppon -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 divers feares and imaginations in them that beheld them, all -tending to a most inhumane and uncharitable 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.</p> - -<p>Some there were, who considered with themselves, that living soberly, -with abstinence from all superfluity; it would be a sufficient resistance -against all hurtfull accidents. So combining themselves in a sociable manner, -they lived as separatists from all other company, being shut up in -such houses, where no sicke body should be neere them. And there, for -their more security, they used delicate viands and excellent wines, avoiding -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 having musicall instruments, lived there in all possible -pleasure. Others were of a contrary opinion, who avouched, that there -was no other physicke more certaine, for a disease so desperate, then to -drinke hard, be merry among themselves, singing continually, walking -every where, and satisfying their appetites with whatsoever they desired, -laughing, and mocking at every mournefull accident, and so they vowed -to spend day and night: for now they would goe to one Taverne, then to -another, living without any rule or measure; which they might very easilie -doe, because every one of them, (as if he were to live no longer in this -World) had even 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 adventure it) even as boldly as the -Lord or owner, without any let or contradiction.</p> - -<p>Yet in all this their beastly behaviour, 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 divine -as humane, was even 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 lived so solitary, in such great necessity of servants and attendants, -as they could not execute any office, whereby it was lawfull for every one -to doe as he listed.</p> - -<p>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 used all things sufficient for -their appetites, and without shutting up themselves, walked abroade, -some carrying sweete nose-gayes of flowers in their hands; others odoriferous -herbes, and others divers 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 savours. Some other there were also of more inhumane -minde (howbeit peradventure 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 moving them, and caring for -no body but themselves, 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 heavily upon none, -but such as were enclosed within the City wals; or else perswading themselves, -that not any one should there be left alive, but that the finall ending -of all things was come.</p> - -<p>Now albeit these persons in their diversity of opinions died not all, so -undoubtedly 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 us omit, that one Citizen fled after another, -and one neighbour had not any care of another, Parents nor kinred -never visiting them, but utterly they were forsaken on all sides: this -tribulation pierced into the hearts of men, and with such a dreadfull terror, -that one Brother forsooke another; the Unkle 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, even 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 subjected to the avarice of servants, who attended them -constrainedly, for great and unreasonable 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 understanding, who never before had served -in any such necessities, nor indeed were any way else to be imployed, -but to give the sicke person such things as he called for, or to awaite the -houre of his death; in the performance of which services, oftentimes for -gaine, they lost their owne lives.</p> - -<p>In this extreame calamity, the sicke being thus forsaken of neighbours, -kinred, and friends, standing also in such need of servants; a custome came -up among them, never heard of before, that there was not any woman, -how noble, young, or faire soever shee was, but falling sicke, shee must of -necessity have a man to attend her, were he young or otherwise, respect -of shame or modesty no way prevailing, but all parts of her body must -be discovered to him, which (in the like urgency) was not to be seene by -any but women: whereon ensued afterward, that upon the parties healing -and recovery, 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 convenient remedies, (which the sicke by no -meanes could attain unto) 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 necesssity -(among them that remained living) begat new behaviours, quite contrary -to all which had beene in former times, and frequently used among -the City Inhabitants.</p> - -<p>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 having any women about them, but infinites also past out of this -life, not having any witnesse, how, when, or in what manner they departed. -So that few or none there were, to deliver outward shew of sorrow -and grieving: but insteed thereof, divers declared idle joy and rejoycing, -a use soone learned of immodest women, having put off al feminine compassion, -yea, or regard of their owne welfare.</p> - -<p>Very few also would accompany the body to the grave, and they not -any of the Neighbours, although it had beene an honourable Cittizen, -but onely the meanest kinde of people, such as were grave-makers, coffin-bearers, -or the like, that did these services 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, having some foure or sixe poore Priests following, with -lights or no lights, and those of the silliest; short service being said at the -buriall, and the body unreverently throwne into the first open grave they -found. Such was the pittifull misery of poore people, and divers, who -were of better condition, as it was most lamentable to behold; because -the greater number of them, under hope of healing, or compelled by poverty, -kept still within their houses weake and faint, thousands falling sick -daily, and having no helpe, or being succoured any way with foode or -physicke, all of them died, few or none escaping.</p> - -<p>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 lives perished, rather by the -noysome smell of dead and putrified bodies, then by any violence of the -disease in themselves. So that of these and the rest, dying in this manner -every where, the neighbours observed one course of behaviour, (moved -thereto no lesse by feare, that the smell and corruption of dead bodies -should harme them, then charitable respect of the dead) that themselves -when they could, or being assisted by some bearers of coarses, when they -were able to procure them, 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 have the helpe -of Bieres, were glad to lay them on tables, and Bieres have bin observed, -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, have thus beene carried -along to the grave upon one Biere.</p> - -<p>Moreover, 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 have made up the advantage, 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, even in -their greatest height: not onely the wise might now learne, but also the -verie simplest people; & in such sort, that they should alwaies be prepared -against all infelicities whatsoever.</p> - -<p>Hallowed ground could not now suffice, for the great multitude of -dead bodies, which were daily brought to every Church in the City, and -every houre in the day; neither could the bodies have proper place of -buriall, according to our ancient custome: wherefore, after that the churches -and Church-yards were filled, they were constrained to make use of -great deepe ditches, wherein they were buried by hundreds at once, ranking -dead bodies along in graves, as Merchandizes are laide along in -ships, covering each after other with a small quantity of earth, & so they -filled at last up the whole ditch to the brim.</p> - -<p>Now, because I would wander no further in everie particularity, concerning -the miseries happening in our Citie: I tell you, that extremities -running on in such manner as you have 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 servants; & likewise in the high-wayes, or their ploughed -landes, by day or night indifferently, yet not as men, but like brute -beasts.</p> - -<p>By meanes whereof, they became lazie and slothfull in their daily endeavours, -even like to our Citizens; not minding or medling with their -wonted affaires: but, as awaiting for death every houre, imployed all -their paines, not in caring any way for themselves, their cattle, or gathering -the fruits of the earth, or any of their accustomed labours; but rather -wasted and consumed, even 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 servants -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 fore-said -beasts (as endued with reason) after they had pastured themselves in -the day time, would returne full fed at night home to their houses, without -any government of Heardsmen, or any other.</p> - -<p>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 -servant? 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 <i>Galen, Hippocrates,</i> -and <i>Æsculapius</i> (if they were living) could have reputed any -way unhealthfull; were seene to dine at morning, with their Parents, -Friends, and familiar confederates, and went to sup in another world -with their Predecessors?</p> - -<p>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 understoode by some of good credite) that in the -venerable Church of S. <i>Marie la Neufue</i>, on a Tuesday morning, there -being then no other person, after the hearing of divine Service, in mourning -habits (as the season required) returned thence seven discreet yong -Gentlewomen, all allyed together, either by friendship, neighbour-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 behaviour, -and gracious modesty.</p> - -<p>Their names I could report, if just 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 revealed) 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 (over-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 them -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 <i>Pampinea</i>; the second <i>Fiammetta</i>; -the third <i>Philomena</i>; the fourth <i>Æmilia</i>; the fift <i>Lauretta</i>; the sixt <i>Neiphila</i>; -and the last we terme (not without occasion) <i>Elissa</i>, or <i>Eliza</i>. 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 divers sighs severally delivered, they conferred on -sundry matters answerable to the sad qualitie of the time, and within a -while after, Madam <i>Pampinea</i> began in this manner.</p> - -<p>Faire Ladies, you may (no doubt as well as I) have often heard, that -no injury is offered to any one, by such as make use but of their owne -right. It is a thing naturall for everie one which is borne in this World, -to aide, conserve, 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 themselves) men have beene slaine without any -offence: yet Lawes have allowed it to be so, in whose solicitude lieth the -best living of all mortals. How much more honest and just is it then for -us, and for every other well-disposed person, to seeke for (without wronging -any) and to practise all remedies that wee can, for the conservation -of our lives? When I well consider, what we have heere done this morning, -and many other already past; remembring (withall) what likewise -is proper and convenient for us: I conceive (as all you may do the like) -that everie one of us hath a due respect of her selfe, and then I mervaile -not, but rather am much amazed (knowing none of us to be deprived of -a Womans best judgement) that wee seeke not after some remedies for -our selves, against that, which every one among us, ought (in reason) to -feare.</p> - -<p>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 graves; or else to listen, when the religious Sisters here dwelling -(whose number now are well-neere come to be none at all) sing Service -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 offensive fury) such as (by authoritie -of publike Lawes) were banished hence, onely for their bad and -brutish behaviour 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 themselves to us, by the base rascality of the -Citie; who being fatted with our blood, tearme themselves Grave-makers, -and in meere contemptible mockerie of us, are mounted on horse-backe, -gallopping everie where, reproaching us 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 everie where most pittifull complaining.</p> - -<p>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 wheresoever I go or -sit downe, me thinkes I see the ghostes and shadowes of deceased friends, -not with such lovely lookes as I was wont to behold them, but with most -horrid and dreadfull regards, newly stolne upon 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 having meanes or place of retirement, as all we have, -and none to remaine heere but onely we.</p> - -<p>Moreover, I have often heard it said, that in tarrying or departing, no -distinction is made in things honest or dishonest; onely appetite will be -served; and be they alone or in company, by day or night, they do whatsoever -their appetite desireth: not secular persons onely, but such as are -recluses, and shut up within Monasteries, breaking the Lawes of obedience, -and being addicted to pleasures of the flesh, are become lascivious -and dissolute, making the world beleeve, that whatsoever is convenient -for other women, is no way unbeseeming them, as thinking in that manner -to escape.</p> - -<p>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 -selves lesse precious then all the other? Or do we beleeve, 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 us? Wee -erre therein, and are deceived. What brutishnesse were it in us, if wee -should urge any such beleefe? So often as wee call to minde, what, and -how many gallant yong men and women, have beene devoured by this -cruell pestilence; wee may evidently observe a contrary argument.</p> - -<p>Wherefore, to the end, that by being over-scrupulous and carelesse, -we fall not into such danger, whence when we would (perhaps) we cannot -recover our selves by any meanes: I thinke it meete (if your judgement -therein shall jumpe with mine) that all of us as we are (at least, if we will -doe as divers before us have done, and yet daily endeavour to doe) shunning -death by the honest example of other, make our retreate to our -Countrey houses, wherewith all of us are sufficiently furnished, and thereto -delight our selves 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 waving -in the field like the billowes of the Sea; infinite store of goodly trees, and -the Heavens more fairely open to us, then here we can behold them: And -although they are justly displeased, yet will they not there denie us better -beauties to gaze on, then the walles in our City (emptied of Inhabitants) -can affoord us.</p> - -<p>Moreover, the Ayre is much fresh and cleere, and generally, there is -farre greater abundance of all things whatsoever, needefull at this time -for preservation of our health, and lesse offence or molestation then wee -find here.</p> - -<p>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 observe it, here wee forsake no particular person, but rather -wee may tearme our selves forsaken; in regard that our Husbands, -Kinred, and Friends, either dying, or flying from the dead, have left us -alone in this great affliction, even as if we were no way belonging unto -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.</p> - -<p>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 us, and -(as this day) betake our selves to one place, to morrow to another, taking -there such pleasure and recreation, as so sweete a season liberally -bestoweth on us. In which manner we may remaine, till we see (if death -otherwise prevent us not) what ende the gracious Heavens have reserved -for us. I would have you also to consider, that it is no lesse seemely for -us to part hence honestly, then a great number of other Women to remaine -here immodestly.</p> - -<p>The other Ladies and Gentlewomen, having heard Madam <i>Pampinea</i>, -not onely commended her counsell, but desiring also to put it in execution; -had already particularly consulted with themselves, by what means -they might instantly depart from thence. Neverthelesse, Madam <i>Philomena</i>, -who was very wise, spake thus.</p> - -<p>Albeit faire Ladies, the case propounded by Madam <i>Pampinea</i> hath -beene very wel delivered; yet (for all that) it is against reason for us to rush -on, as we are over-ready to doe. Remember that we are all women, and -no one among us is so childish, but may consider, that when wee -shall be so assembled together, without providence or conduct of some -man, we can hardly governe our selves. We are fraile, offensive, suspicious, -weake spirited, and fearefull: in regard of which imperfections, I -greatly doubt (if we have no better direction then our owne) this society -will sooner dissolve it selfe, and (perchance) with lesse honour to us, then -if we never had begunne it. And therefore it shall be expedient for us, -to provide before wee proceede any further. Madam <i>Elissa</i> hereon thus -replied.</p> - -<p>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 living, some be -dispearsed here, others there, into divers places and companies, where -we have no knowledge of their being. And to accept of strangers, would -seeme very inconvenient; wherefore as we have such care of our health, -so should wee be as respective (withall) in ordering our intention: that -wheresoever wee aime at our pleasure and contentment, reproofe and -scandall may by no meanes pursue us.</p> - -<p>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 five and twenty yeeres) in whom, neither malice of the -time, loss of friends or kinred, nor any fearefull conceit in themselves, -had the power to quench affection; but (perhaps) might a little coole it, -in regard of the queazy season. One of them called himselfe <i>Pamphilus</i>, -the second <i>Philostratus</i>, and the last <i>Dioneus</i>. 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 seaven, and the -rest kinne unto them in one degree or other. No sooner were these Ladies -espyed by them, but they met with them also in the same advantage; -whereupon Madam <i>Pampinea</i> (amiably smiling) saide.</p> - -<p>See how graciously Fortune is favourable to our beginning, by presenting -our eyes with three so wise and worthy young Gentlemen, who -will gladly be our guides and servants, if we doe not disdaine them the office. -Madam <i>Neiphila</i> beganne immediatly to blush, because one of them -had a love in the company, and saide; Good Madam <i>Pampinea</i> 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 us, 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 us: I feare, if wee should make -the motion, that some dishonour or reproofe may ensue thereby, and yet -without blame either in us or them. That is nothing at all, answered Madam -<i>Philomena</i>, let mee live 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 <i>Pampinea</i> saide) wee may -very well hope that Fortune will bee furtherous to our purposed journey.</p> - -<p>The other Ladies hearing them speake in such manner, not onely were -silent to themselves, 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 <i>Pampinea</i> mounting on her feete (because one -of the three was her Kinsman) went towards them, as they stood respectively -observing them; and (with a pleasing countenance) giving 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.</p> - -<p>The Gentlemen imagined at the first apprehension, that this was spoken -in mockage of them, but when they better perceived, that her words -tended to solemne earnest; they made answer, that they were all heartily -ready to doe them any service. And without any further delaying, before -they parted thence, tooke order for their aptest furnishing with all -convenient 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, -having three servants to waite on them; left the City to beginne -their journey, and having travelled about a leagues distance, arrived 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, having a large and spacious Court in the middest, -round engirt with galleries, hals and chambers, every one separate alone -by themselves, 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.</p> - -<p>This Pallace the company found fully fitted and prepared, the beddes -in the Chambers made and daintily ordered, thickly strewed with variety -of flowers, which could not but give them the greater contentment. <i>Dioneus</i>, -who (above the other) was a pleasant young gallant, and full of infinite -witty conceits, saide; Your wit (faire Ladies) hath better guided us -hither, then our providence. I know not how you have 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 give me leave to goe seeke my sorrowes againe, -and so to remaine discontented in our desolate City. Madam <i>Pampinea</i> -having in like manner shaken off her sorrowes, delivering a modest and -bashfull smile, replied in this manner.</p> - -<p><i>Dioneus</i>, well have you spoken, it is fit to live merrily, and no other occasion -made us forsake the sicke and sad Citie. But, because such things -as are without meane or measure, are subject 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 convenient, that wee -should all agree, to have one chiefe commaunder among us, in whom -the care and providence should consist, for direction of our merriment, -performing honour and obedience to the party, as to our Patrone and -sole Governour. And because every one may feele the burthen of sollicitude, -as also the pleasure of commaunding, and consequently have a -sensible taste of both, whereby no envie may arise on any side: I could -wish, that each one of us (for a day onely) should feele both the burthen -and honour, and the person so to be advanced, shall receive it from the -election of us 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.</p> - -<p>These words were highly pleasing to them all, and, by generall voyce, -Madame <i>Pampinea</i> was chosen Queene for the first day. Whereupon, -Madame <i>Philomena</i> 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 divers -branches, she made of them an apparant and honourable Chaplet, -placing it (by generall consent) upon her head, and this, so long as their -company continued, manifested to all the rest, the signall of dominion -and Royall greatnesse.</p> - -<p>After that Madame <i>Pampinea</i> was thus made Queene, she commanded -publique silence, and causing the Gentlemens three servants, and the waiting -women also (being foure in number) to be brought before her, thus -shee began. Because I am to give the first example to you all, whereby -(proceeding on from good to better) our company may live in order -and pleasure, acceptable to all, and without shame to any: I create <i>Parmeno</i> -(servant to <i>Dioneus</i>) Maister of the Houshold, hee taking the care -and charge of all our trayne, and for whatsoever appertaineth to our -Hall service. I appoint also that <i>Silisco</i> (servant to <i>Pamphilus</i>) shall be -our Dispencer and Treasurer, performing that which <i>Parmeno</i> shall -commaund him. And that <i>Tindaro</i> serve as Groome of the Chamber, to -<i>Philostratus</i> his Maister, and the other two, when his fellowes (impeached -by their offices) cannot be present. <i>Misia</i> my Chambermaid, and <i>Licisca</i> -(belonging to Philomena) shall serve continually in the Kitchin, and diligently -make ready such vyands, as shall be delivered them by <i>Parmeno. -Chimera</i>, wayting-woman to <i>Lauretta</i>, and <i>Stratilia</i> (appertaining to <i>Fiammetta</i>) -shall have the charge and governement of the Ladies Chambers, -and preparing all places where we shall be present. Moreover, we -will and commaund every one of them (as they desire to deserve our -grace) that wheresoever they goe or come, or whatsoever they heare or -see: they especially respect to bring us tydings of them. After shee had -summarily delivered them these orders, very much commended of every -one; shee arose fairely, saying. Heere wee have Gardens, Orchards, -Meadowes, and other places of sufficient pleasure, where every one may -sport & recreate themselves: but so soone as the ninth houre striketh, then -all to meete here againe, to dine in the coole shade.</p> - -<p>This jocund company having received licence from their Queene to -disport themselves, the Gentlemen walked with the Ladies into a goodly -Garden, making Chaplets and Nosegayes of divers flowers, and singing -silently to themselves. When they had spent the time limitted by the -Queene, they returned into the house, where they found that <i>Parmeno</i> -had effectually executed his office. For, when they entred into the Hall, -they saw the Tables covered with delicate white naperie, and the Glasses -looking like silver, they were so transparantly cleare, all the roome beside -streawed with floures of Juniper. When the Queene and all the rest had -washed; according as <i>Parmeno</i> gave order, so every one was seated at the -Table: the vyands (delicately drest) were served in, and excellent wines -plentifully delivered, none attending but the three servants, and little or -no loud table-talke passing among them.</p> - -<p>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 divers -instruments should be brought, and (as she gave charge) <i>Dioneus</i> tooke a -Lute, and <i>Fiammetta</i> a Violl <i>de gamba</i>, and began to play an excellent -daunce. Whereupon the Queene, with the rest of the Ladies, and the -other two young Gentlemen (having sent their attending servants to -dinner) paced foorth a daunce very majestically. And when the daunce -was ended, they sung sundry excellent Canzonets, out-wearing so the -time, untill the Queene commaunded them all to rest, because the houre -did necessarily require it. The Gentlemen having their Chambers farre -severed from the Ladies, curiously strewed with flowers, and their beds -adorned in exquisite manner, as those of the Ladies were not a jote 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 overmuch -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 over-violently, because the shades of faire spreading trees -gave 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.</p> - -<p>You see (faire company) that the Sunne is highly mounted, the heate -(else-where) too extreme for us, and therefore 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 advice 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 us, a tale or fable related by some one, to urge the attention -of all the rest. And so wearing out the warmth of the day, one prety Novell -wil draw on another, until the Sun be lower declined, and the heates -extremity more diminished, to solace our selves in some other place, as -to our minds shal seeme convenient. If therefore what I have sayde be -acceptable to you (I purposing to follow in the same course of pleasure) -let it appeare by your immediate answer; for, till the Evening, I think we -can devise no exercise more commodious for us.</p> - -<p>The Ladies & Gentlemen allowed of the motion, to spend the time -in telling pleasant tales; whereupon the Queene saide: Seeing you have -approoved mine advice, I grant free permission for this first day, that every -one shall relate, what to him or her is best pleasing. And turning -her selfe to <i>Pamphilus</i> (who was seated on her right hand) gave him favour, -with one of his Novels, to begin the recreation: which he not daring -to deny, and perceiving generall attention prepared for him, thus -he began.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Messire_Chappelet_du_Prat_by_making_a_false_confession_beguyled_an_holy_Religious" id="Messire_Chappelet_du_Prat_by_making_a_false_confession_beguyled_an_holy_Religious"><i>Messire Chappelet du Prat, by making a false confession, beguyled an holy Religious -man, and after dyed. And having (during his life time) bene a verie -bad man, at his death was reputed to be a Saint, and called S. Chappelet.</i></a></h4> - - -<h2>The first Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is contained, how hard a thing it is, to distinguish goodnesse from hypocrisie; -and how (under the shadow of holinesse) the wickednes of one man, -may deceive many.</i></h4> - - -<p>It is a matter most convenient (deare Ladies) that a man -ought to begin whatsoever 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 invention of discoursing Novelties: 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 ever to be praised by us. Now, -as there is nothing more certaine, but that even as temporall things are -mortall and transitory, so are they both in and out of themselves, full of -sorrow, paine, and anguish, and subjected to infinite dangers: So in the -same manner, we live mingled among them, seeming as part of them, -and cannot (without some error) continue or defend ourselves, if God -by his especiall grace and favour, give us not strength and good understanding. -Which power we may not beleeve, that either it descendeth -to us, or liveth in us, by any merites of our owne; but of his onely most -gracious benignity. Mooved neverthelesse, and entreated by the intercessions -of them, who were (as we are) mortals; and having diligently -observed his commandements, are now with him in eternall blessednes. -To whom (as to advocates and procurators, informed by the experience -of our frailty) wee are not to present our prayers in the presence of -so great a Judge; but only to himselfe, for the obtaining of all such things -as his wisedome knoweth to be most expedient for us. And well may we -credit, that his goodnesse is more fully enclined towards us, in his continuall -bounty and liberality; then the subtilty of any mortal eye, can reach -into the secret of so divine a thought: and sometimes therefore we may -be beguiled in opinion, by electing such and such as our intercessors before -his high Majesty, who perhaps are farre off from him, or driven into -perpetuall exile, as unworthy 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 devotion, committed to the trust of a -heedlesse intercessor; and such prayers have alwaies gracious acceptation -in his sight. As manifestly will appeare, by the Novell which I intend -to relate; manifestly (I say) not as in the judgement of God, but according -to the apprehension of men.</p> - -<p>There was one named, <i>Musciatto Francesi</i>, who from beeing a most -rich and great merchant in <i>France</i>, was become a Knight, and preparing -to go into <i>Tuscany</i>, with Monsieur <i>Charles without Land</i>, Brother to -the King of <i>France</i> (who was desired and incited to come thither by -Pope <i>Boniface</i>) found his affaires greatly intricated here and there -(as oftentimes the matters of Merchants fall out to bee) and that very -hardly hee should sodainly unintangle them, without referring the -charge of them to divers persons. And for all he tooke indifferent -good order, onely he remained doubtfull, whom he might sufficiently -leave, to recover his debts among many <i>Burgundians</i>. And the rather -was his care the more herein, because he knew the <i>Burgundians</i> 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 soever he was) in whom he might repose trust to meete -with their lewdnesse. Having a long while examined his thoughts upon -this point, at last hee remembred one master <i>Chappelet du Prat</i>, who -ofttimes had resorted to his house in <i>Paris</i>. And because he was a -man of little stature, yet handsome enough, the French not knowing what -this word <i>Chappelet</i> might mean, esteeming he should be called rather -(in their tongue) <i>Chappell</i>; imagined, that in regard of his small -stature, they termed him <i>Chappelet</i>, and not <i>Chappell</i>, and so by -the name of <i>Chappelet</i> he was every where known, and by few or none -acknowledged for <i>Chappel</i>.</p> - -<p>This master <i>Chappelet</i>, 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 soever hee dealt withall, he would be urged and required -thereto, offering them his paines and travaile for nothing, but to be -requited otherwise then by money; which prooved 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 given to an -oath, he making no care or conscience to be perjured: greatly advantaged -himselfe by Law suites, in regard that many matters relyed upon his -oath, and delivering the truth according to his knowledge.</p> - -<p>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 never would -make deniall, but go to it very willingly; and divers times it was wel knowen, -that many were cruelly beaten, ye slaine by his hands. Hee was a -most horrible blasphemer of God and his Saints, upon the very least occasion, -as being more addicted to choller, then any other man could be. -Never would he frequent the Church, but basely contemned it, with the -Sacraments and religious rites therein administred, accounting them for -vile and unprofitable things: but very voluntarily would visit Tavernes, -and other places of dishonest accesse, which were continually pleasing -unto him, to satisfie his lust and inordinate lubricitie. Hee would steale -both in publike and private, even with such a conscience, as if it were given -to him by nature so to do. He was a great glutton and a drunkarde, -even 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.</p> - -<p>But why do I waste time in such extent of words? When it may suffice -to say, that never was there a worse man borne; whose wickednesse -was for long time supported, by the favour, power, and Authoritie -of Monsieur <i>Musciatto</i>, for whose sake many wrongs and injuries were -patiently endured, as well by private persons (whom hee would abuse -notoriously) as others of the Court, betweene whom he made no difference -at all in his vile dealing. This Master <i>Chappelet</i>, being thus remembred -by <i>Musciatto</i> (who very well knew his life and behaviour) he perfectly -perswaded himselfe, that this was a man apt in all respects, to meete -with the treachery of the Burgundians: whereupon, having sent for him, -thus he beganne.</p> - -<p><i>Chappelet</i>, thou knowest how I am wholly to retreate my selfe from -hence, and having some affaires among the Burgundians, men full of -wickednesse and deceite; I can bethinke my selfe of no meeter a man then -<i>Chappelet</i>, to recover 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 undergoe this office for me, I will procure thee favourable -Letters from the Court, and give thee a reasonable portion in -all thou recoverest. Master <i>Chappelet</i>, seeing himselfe idle, and greedy -after worldly goods, considering <i>Mounsieur Musciatto</i> (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.</p> - -<p>Having made their agreement together, and received from <i>Musciatto</i> -his expresse procuration, as also the Kings gracious Letters; after that -<i>Musciatto</i> was gone on his journey, Master <i>Chappelet</i> went to <i>Dijon</i>, [To Borgogna saith the Italian.] where -he was unknowne (well neere) of any. And there (quite from his naturall -disposition) he beganne benignely and graciously, in recovering the debts -due; which course he tooke the rather, because they should have a further -feeling of him in the ende. Being lodged in the house of two Florentine -brethren, that lived on their monies usance; and (for <i>Mounsieur Musciattoes</i> -sake) using him with honour and respect: It fortuned that he fell sicke, -and the two brethren sent for Physicions to attend him, allowing their -servants to be diligent about him, making no spare of any thing, which -gave the best likelyhood of restoring his health. But all their paines proved -to no purpose, because he (honest man) being now growne aged, and -having lived all his life time very disordredly, fell day by day (according -to the Physicions judgement) from bad to worse, as no other way appeared -but death, whereat the brethren greatly greeved.</p> - -<p>Upon 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 gave him entertainement, and have allowed him honest physical attendance, -and he not having any way injuried or offended us, to let him -be suddenly expulsed our house (sicke to death as he is) it can be no way -for our credit.</p> - -<p>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 receive 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 absolve -him. And being not absolved, 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 coveting our spoile and overthrow; -upon this accident will cry out and mutiny against us; <i>Beholde -these Lombard dogs, which are not to be received into the Church, why should -we suffer them to live heere among us?</i> In furious madnesse wil they come -upon us, and our house, where (peradventure) not contented with robbing -us of our goods, our lives will remaine in their mercy and danger; -so that, in what sort soever it happen, this mans dying heere, must needs -be banefull to us.</p> - -<p>Master <i>Chappelet</i>, who (as we have formerly saide) was lodged neere to -the place where they thus conferred, having 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 unto him, thus hee -spake.</p> - -<p>I would not have you to be any way doubtfull of me; neither that you -shold receive the least damage by me: I have heard what you have 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 -have committed so many offences against our Lord God, in the whole -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 unto 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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Lombard</i>, -that lay verie weake and sicke in their house. And one was granted unto -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 them to their house. When he was come up into the Chamber where -Master <i>Chappelet</i> lay, and being there seated downe by him; he beganne -first to comfort him very lovingly, demanding also of him, howe many -times he had bin at confession? Whereto master <i>Chappelet</i> (who never -had bin shriven in all his life time) thus replied.</p> - -<p>Holy Father, I alwayes used (as a common custome) to bee confessed -once (at the least) every weeke, albeit sometimes much more often, but -true it is, that being faln into this sicknesse, now eight dayes since; I have -not bene confest, so violent hath bene the extremity of my weakenesse. -My sonne (answered the good old man) thou hast done well, and so keep -thee still hereafter in that minde: but I plainly perceive, seeing thou hast -so often confessed thy selfe, that I shall take the lesse labour in urging -questions to thee.</p> - -<p>Master <i>Chappelet</i> replied: Say not so good Father, for albeit I have -bene so oftentimes confessed, yet am I willing now to make a generall -confession, even of all sinnes comming to my remembrance, from the -very day of my birth, until this instant houre of my shrift. And therefore -I intreate you (holy Father) to make a particular demand of every thing, -even as if I had never bene confessed at al, and to make no respect of my -sicknesse: for I had rather be offensive to mine owne flesh, then by favouring -or allowing it ease, to hazard the perdition of my soule, which my -Redeemer bought with so precious a price.</p> - -<p>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 never offended with any Woman? Whereunto master <i>Chappelet</i> -(breathing foorth a great sigh) answered.</p> - -<p>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 never sinne. Then sayde Maister -<i>Chappelet</i>, Father, seeing you give me so good an assurance, I wil resolve -you faithfully heerein. I am so true a Virgin-man in this matter, even 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 lived, and -therein hast not meanly merited: having hadde so much libertie to doo -the contrary if thou wouldst, wherein very few of us can so answer for our -selves.</p> - -<p>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, over and beside -the Fasts of our Lent season, which everie yeare ought to bee dulie -observed by devout people, I brought my selfe to such a customarie use, -that I could fast three dayes in every Weeke, with Bread and Water. -But indeede (holy Father) I confesse, that I have drunke water with such -a pleasing appetite and delight (especially in praying, or walking on pilgrimages) -even as greedy drunkards do, in drinking good Wine. And -many times I have desired such Sallades of small hearbes, as Women -gather abroad in the open fields, and feeding onely upon them, without -coveting 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 swerveth from devotion, or is not done as it ought to -bee.</p> - -<p>Sonne, Sonne, replied the Confessour, these sinnes are naturall, and -very light, and therefore I would not have thee to charge thy conscience -with them, more then is needfull. It happeneth to every man (how holy -soever he be) that after he hath fasted over-long, feeding will be welcome -to him, and drinking good drinke after his travaile. O Sir (said Maister -<i>Chappelet</i>) never tell me this to comfort me, for well you know, and I am -not ignorant therein, that such things as are done for the service of God, -ought all to be performed purely, and without any blemish of the minde; -what otherwise is done, savoureth of sinne. The Friar being well contented -with his words, said: It is not amisse that thou understandest it in -this manner, and thy conscience thus purely cleared, is no little comfort -to me. But tell me now concerning Avarice, hast thou sinned therein? -by desiring more then was reasonable, or withholding from others, such -things as thou oughtst not to detaine? whereto Maister <i>Chappelet</i> answered. -Good Father, I would not have you to imagine, because you see -me lodged here in the house of two usurers, 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 have prevailed -therein, had not this violently sicknesse hindered mine intention. But -understand (holy Father) that my parents left me a rich man, and immediatly -after my fathers death, the greater part of his goods I gave away -for Gods sake, and then, to sustaine mine owne life, and to helpe the poore -members of Jesus Christ, I betooke my selfe to a meane estate of Merchandise, -desiring none other then honest gaine thereby, and evermore -whatsoever benefit came to me; I imparted halfe thereof to the poore, -converting mine owne small portion about my necessary affaires, which -that other part would scarcely serve to supply: yet alwayes God gave -thereto such a mercifull blessing, that my businesse dayly thrived more -and more, arising still from good to better.</p> - -<p>Well hast thou done therein good Sonne, said the Confessour: but -how often times hast thou beene angry? Oh Sir (said Maister <i>Chappelet</i>) -therein I assure yee, I have 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 -judgements. Many times in a day, I have rather wished my selfe dead -then living, beholding youth pursuing idle vanities, to sweare and forsweare -themselves, tipling in Tavernes, and never 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 over-ruled thee, as to commit murther or manslaughter, -or to speake evill of any man, or to doe any other such kinde of injurie? -Oh Father (answered Maister <i>Chappelet</i>) you that seeme to be a man -of God, how dare you use 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 have suffered me to live? These are deedes of darknesse, fit for villaines -and wicked livers; of which hellish crue, when at any time I have -happened to meete with some one of them; I have said, Goe, God convert -thee.</p> - -<p>Worthy, and charitable words, replied the Friar; but tell me Sonne, -Didst thou ever 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 <i>Chappelet</i>, I have spoken ill of another, because -I have 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 never did it, but -when he was overcome with drinke. Those were no ill words, quoth the -Friar; but I remember, you said that you were a Merchant: Did you ever -deceive any, as some Merchants use to doe? Truly Father, answered -Maister <i>Chappelet</i>, 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 never happening to meete with the man againe, after I had -kept them the space of a whole yeare, I then gave them away to foure -poore people for Gods sake.</p> - -<p>A small matter, said the Friar, & truly payed back again to the owner, -in bestowing them upon the poore. Many other questions hee demaunded -of him, whereto still he answered in the same manner: but before he -proceeded to absolution, Maister <i>Chappelet</i> spake thus. I have yet one -sinne more, which I have not revealed to you: when being urged 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 Saviour, and yet I have done no such reverence to the -Sunday or Sabaoth, as I ought to have done. A small fault Sonne, -replied the Friar. O no (quoth Maister <i>Chappelet</i>) doe not terme it a small -fault, because Sunday being a holy day, is highly to be reverenced: 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 use to spet there every day. The more is your -shame, answered Maister <i>Chappelet</i>, for no place ought to be kept more -pure and cleane then the sacred Temple, wherein our dayly sacrifices are -offered up to God.</p> - -<p>In this manner he held on an houre and more, uttering 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 mooved, said: Alas Sonne, what -aylest thou? Oh Father (quoth <i>Chappelet</i>) there remaineth yet one sinne -more upon my conscience, whereof I never at any time made confession, -so shamefull it appeareth to me to disclose it; and I am partly perswaded, -that God will never pardon me for that sinne. How now Sonne? said the -Friar, never say so; for if all the sinnes that ever 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 upon penitent confession, -he will freely pardon him, and therefore spare not to speak it boldly. -Alas Father (said <i>Chappelet</i>, still in pretended weeping) this sinne of mine -is so great, that I can hardly beleeve (if your earnest prayers doe not assist -me) that ever 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.</p> - -<p>Master <i>Chappelet</i> 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, even as if his -very heart would have broken, he saide; Holy Father, seeing you promise -to pray to God for me, I will reveale 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 greeved 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 neverthelesse, upon their hearty -repentance, he is alwayes ready to forgive them; and wilt not thou beleeve -to obtaine remission, for a sinne so ignorantly committed? Weepe -no more deare Sonne, but comfort thy selfe, and rest resolved, that if thou -wert one of them, who nayled our blessed Saviour to his Crosse; yet being -so truly repentant, as I see thou art, he would freely forgive thee. Say -you so Father? quoth <i>Chappelet</i>. 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 forgive me.</p> - -<p>When the religious man perceived, that nothing more was to be -confessed by Master <i>Chappelet</i>; he gave him absolution, and his owne benediction -beside, reputing him to be a most holy man, as verily beleeving -all that he had said. And who would not have done the like, hearing -a man to speake in that manner, and being upon the very point of death? -Afterward, he saide unto him; Master <i>Chappelet</i>, 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 -have your body buried in our Convent? Whereto Master <i>Chappelet</i> 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 have promised, -to pray to God for me; and beside, I have alwayes carried a religious devotion -to your Order. Wherefore, I beseech you, so soone as you are -come home to your Convent, prevaile so much by your good meanes, -that the holy Eucharist, consecrated this morning on your high Altar, -may be brought unto me: for although I confesse my selfe utterly unworthy, -yet I purpose (by your reverend permission) to receive it, as also -your holy and latest unction; to this ende, that having lived a greevous -sinner, I may yet (at the last) die a Christian. These words were pleasing -to the good olde man, and he caused every thing to be performed, according -as Master <i>Chappelet</i> had requested.</p> - -<p>The two Brethren, who much doubted the dissembling of <i>Chappelet</i>, -being both in a small partition, which sundered the sicke mans Chamber -from theirs, heard and understood 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 -themselves; 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 judgement 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 lived? Notwithstanding, seeing he had so ordered -the matter, that he had buriall freely allowed him, they cared for no more.</p> - -<p>After that <i>Chappelet</i> had received the Communion, and the other ceremonies -appointed for him; weakenesse encreasing on him more and -more, the very same day of his goodly confession, he died (not long after) -towards the evening. Whereupon the two Brethren tooke order, that -all needefull things should be in a readinesse, to have him buried honourably; -sending to acquaint the Fathers of the Convent therewith, that -they might come to say their <i>Vigilles</i>, 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 Convent, -and by sound of the house Bell, caused all the Brethren to assemble together, -giving them credibly to understand, that Master <i>Chappelet</i> 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 devoute solemnity and reverence; -whereto the Prior, and all the credulous Brethren presently condiscended -very gladly.</p> - -<p>When night was come, they went all to visit the dead body of Master -<i>Chappelet</i>, where they used an especiall and solemne <i>Vigill</i>; 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 devoute 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 up 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 observations) what <i>Chappelet</i> had confessed, as -this most great and greevous sinne, and how hardly he could be perswaded, -that God would grant him pardon for it. Whereby he tooke occasion -to reprove the people then present, saying; And you (accursed of God) for the -verie least and trifling matter hapning, will not spare to blaspheme God, -his blessed Mother, and the whole Court of heavenly Paradise: Oh, take -example by this singular man, this Saint-like man, nay, a verie Saint indeede.</p> - -<p>Many additions more he made, concerning his faithfulnesse, truth, & -integrity; so that, by the vehement asseveration of his words (whereto all -the people there present gave credible beleefe) he provoked them unto -such zeale and earnest devotion; 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 -themselves, that could get the smallest peece or shred or 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.</p> - -<p>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, devotion, and integrity of life, maintained constantly by -the Fathers of the Convent; that if any one fell sicke in neede, distresse, -or adversity, they would make their Vowes to no other Saint but him: -naming him (as yet to this day they do) Saint <i>Chappelet</i>, affirming upon -their Oathes, that infinite miracles were there daily performed by him, -and especially on such, as came in devotion to visit his shrine.</p> - -<p>In this manner lived and died Master <i>Chappelet du Prat</i>, who before he -became a Saint, was as you have heard: and I will not deny it to be impossible, -but that he may be at rest among other blessed bodies. For, although -he lived lewdly and wickedly, yet such might be his contrition in -the latest extreamity, that (questionlesse) he might finde mercie. But, -because such things remaine unknowne to us, and speaking by outwarde -appearance, vulgar judgement 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 us, that he regards not our errors, but the integrity -of our Faith, making (by meanes of our continuall Mediator) of -an open enemy, a converted sonne and servant. And as I began in his -name, so will I conclude, desiring that it may evermore be had in due reverence, -and referre we our selves thereto in all our necessities, with this -setled assurance, that he is alwayes readie to heare us. And so he ceased.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Abraham_a_Jew_being_admonished_or_advised_by_a_friend_of_his_named_Jehannot" id="Abraham_a_Jew_being_admonished_or_advised_by_a_friend_of_his_named_Jehannot"><i>Abraham a Jew, being admonished or advised by a friend of his, named Jehannot -de Chevigny, travailed from Paris unto Rome: And beholding there -the wicked behaviour of men in the Church, returned backe to Paris again, -where yet (neverthelesse) he became a Christian.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The Second Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is contained and expressed, the liberality and goodnesse of God, extended -to the Christian Faith.</i></h4> - - -<p>The Novell recited by <i>Pamphilus</i> was highly pleasing to the company, -and much commended by the Ladies: and after it had beene -diligently observed among them, the Queen commanded Madam <i>Neiphila</i> -(who was seated neerest to <i>Pamphilus</i>) 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.</p> - -<p><i>Pamphilus</i> hath declared to us by his Tale, how the goodnesse of God -regardeth not our errors, when they proceede from things which wee -cannot discerne. And I intend to approove by mine, what argument of -infallible truth, the same benignity delivereth of it selfe, by enduring patiently -the faults of them, that (both in word and worke) should declare -unfaigned testimony of such gracious goodnesse, and not to live so dissolutely -as they doe. To the end, that others illumined by their light of -life, may beleeve with the stronger constancy of minde.</p> - -<p>As I have heeretofore heard (Gracious Ladies) there lived a wealthy -Marchant in <i>Paris</i>, being a Mercer, or seller of Silkes, named <i>Jehannot de Chevigny</i>, -a man of faithful, honest, and upright dealing; who held great -affection and friendship with a very rich Jew, named <i>Abraham</i>, that was -a Merchant also, and a man of very direct conversation. <i>Jehannot</i> well -noting the honesty and loyall dealing of this Jew, began to have a Religious -kind of compassion in his soule, much pittying, that a man so good -in behaviour, so wise and discreete in all his actions, should be in danger -of perdition thorow want of Faith. In which regard, lovingly he began -to entreate him, that he would leave the errors of his Jewish beleefe, and -follow the truth of Christianity, which he evidently saw (as being good -and holy) daily to prosper and enlarge it selfe, whereas (on the contrary) -his profession decreased, and grew to nothing.</p> - -<p>The Jew made answer, that he beleeved nothing to be so good & holy, -as the Jewish Religion, and having beene borne therein, therein also -he purposed to live and dye, no matter whatsoever, being able to remove -him from that resolution. For all this stiffe deniall, <i>Jehannot</i> would not -so give him over; but pursued him still day by day, reitterating continually -his former speeches to him: delivering infinite excellent and pregnant -reasons, that Merchants themselves were not ignorant, how farre -the Christian faith excelled the Jewish falshoods. And albeit the Jew -was a very learned man in his owne law, yet notwithstanding, the intire -amity hee bare to <i>Jehannot</i>, or (perhaps) his words fortified by the blessed -Spirit, were so prevalent with him: that the Jew felt a pleasing apprehension -in them, though his obstinacie stood (as yet) farre off from conversion. -But as hee thus continued strong in opinion, so <i>Jehannot</i> left not -hourely to labour him: in so much that the Jew, being conquered by -such earnest and continuall importunity, one day spake to <i>Jehannot</i> -thus.</p> - -<p>My worthy friend <i>Jehannot</i>, thou art extremely desirous, that I should -convert to Christianity, and I am well contended to doe it, onely upon -this condition. That first I will journey 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 endeavourest to perswade me: -I will become a Christian as thou art, but if I finde it otherwise, I will continue -a Jew as I am.</p> - -<p>When <i>Jehannot</i> heard these words, he became exceeding sorrowfull, saide -within himselfe. I have lost all the paines, which I did thinke to be well -imployed, as hoping to have this man converted here: For, if he goe to -the Court of Rome, and behold there the wickednes of the Priests lives; -farewell all hope in me, of ever seeing him to become a Christian. But -rather, were he already a Christian, without all question, he would turne -Jew: And so (going neerer to <i>Abraham</i>) he said. Alas my loving friend, -why shouldst thou undertake such a tedious travell, and so great a charge, -as thy journey from hence to Rome will cost thee? Consider, that to a -rich man (as thou art) travaile by land or sea is full of infinite dangers. -Doest thou not thinke, that here are Religious men enow, who will gladly -bestowe Baptisme upon thee. To me therefore it plainely appeareth, -that such a voyage is to no purpose. If thou standest upon 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 resolve 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, reserve this journey to some -time more convenient, when the Jubilee of generall pardon happeneth, -and then (perchance) I will beare thee company, and goe along with thee -as in vowed pilgrimage.</p> - -<p>Whereto the Jew replied. I beleeve <i>Jehannot</i>, that all which thou hast -said may be so. But, to make short with thee, I am fully determined (if -thou wouldst have me a Christian, as thou instantly urgest me to be) to -goe thither, for otherwise, I will continue as I am. <i>Jehannot</i> perceiving -his setled purpose, said: Goe then in Gods name. But perswaded himselfe, -that hee would never become a Christian, after hee had once seene -the Court of Rome: neverthelesse, he counted his labour not altogether -lost, in regard he bestowed it to a good end, and honest intentions are to -be commended.</p> - -<p>The Jew mounted on horse-backe, and made no lingering in his journey -to Rome, where being arrived, he was very honourably entertained -by other Jewes dwelling in Rome. And during the time of his abiding -there (without revealing to any one, the reason of his comming thither) -very heedfully he observed, the manner of the Popes life, of the Cardinals, -Prelates, and all the Courtiers. And being a man very discreete and -judicious, he apparantly perceived, 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. Moreover, drunkards, belly-Gods, and -servants of the paunch, more then of any thing else (even like brutish -beasts after their luxurie) were every where to be met withall. And, upon -further observation, hee saw all men so covetous and greedy of coyne, -that every 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 divinest qualities, how, or to whomsoever appertaining, were -it for sacrifices or benefices, whereof was made no meane Merchandize, -and more Brokers were there to be found (then in <i>Paris</i> attending upon -all Trades) of manifest Symonie, under the nice name of Negotiation, -and for gluttony, not sustentation: even as if God had not knowne the -signification of vocables, nor the intentions of wicked hearts, but would -suffer himselfe to be deceived by the outward names of things, as wretched -men commonly use to doe.</p> - -<p>These things, and many more (fitter for silence, then publication) -were so deepely displeasing to the Jew, being a most sober and modest -man; that he had soone seene enough, resolving on his returne to <i>Paris</i>, -which very speedily he performed. And when <i>Jehannot</i> heard of his arrivall, -crediting much rather other newes from him, then ever to see him -a converted Christian; he went to welcome him, and kindly they feasted -one another. After some fewe dayes of resting, <i>Jehannot</i> demaunded of -him; what he thought of our holy father the Pope and his Cardinals, and -generally of all the other Courtiers? Whereto the Jew readily answered; -It is strange <i>Jehannot</i>, that God should give 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 have both heard and seene: I could then have resolved my -selfe, never to have found in any Priest, either sanctity, devotion, good -worke, example of honest life, or any good thing else beside. But if a -man desire to see luxury, avarice, gluttony, and such wicked things, yea, -worse, if worse may be, and held in generall estimation of all men; let -him but goe to <i>Rome</i>, which I thinke rather to be the forge of damnable -actions, then any way leaning to grace or goodnesse. And, for ought I -could perceive, me thinkes your chiefe Pastour, and (consequently) all the -rest of his dependants, doe strive so much as they may (with all their engine -arte and endeavour) to bring to nothing, or else to banish quite out -of the world, Christian Religion, whereof they should be the support and -foundation.</p> - -<p>But because I perceive, that their wicked intent will never come to -passe, but contrariwise, that your faith enlargeth itselfe, shining every -day much more cleare and splendant: I gather thereby evidently, 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 never minded to become a -Christian: now I freely open my heart unto thee, that nothing in the -world can or shall hinder me, but I will be a Christian, as thou art. Let -us therefore presently goe to the Church, and there (according to the -true custome of your holy faith) helpe me to be baptized.</p> - -<p><i>Jehannot</i>, 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 <i>Nostre Dame</i> in <i>Paris</i>, where -he requested the Priests there abiding, to bestow baptisme on <i>Abraham</i>, -which they joyfully did, hearing him so earnestly to desire it. <i>Jehannot</i> -was his Godfather, and named him <i>John</i>, and afterward, by learned Divines -he was more fully instructed in the grounds of our faith; wherein -he grew of greatly understanding, and led a very vertuous life.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Melchisedech_a_Jew_by_recounting_a_Tale_of_three_Rings_to_the_great_Soldan" id="Melchisedech_a_Jew_by_recounting_a_Tale_of_three_Rings_to_the_great_Soldan"><i>Melchisedech a Jew, by recounting a Tale of three Rings, to the great Soldan, -named Saladine, prevented a great danger which was prepared for him.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The third Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Whereby the Author, approving the Christian Faith, sheweth, how beneficiall -a sodaine and ingenious answer may fall out to bee, especially when a man -finds himselfe in some evident danger.</i></h4> - - -<p>Madame <i>Neiphila</i> having ended her Discourse, which was well allowed -of by all the company; it pleased the Queene, that Madam <i>Philomena</i> -should next succeede in order, who thus began.</p> - -<p>The Tale delivered by <i>Neiphila</i>, maketh mee remember a doubtfull -case, which sometime hapned to another Jew. And because that God, -and the truth of his holy Faith, hath bene already very wel discoursed on: -it shall not seeme unfitting (in my poore opinion) to descend now into -the accidents of men. Wherefore, I will relate a matter unto you, which -being attentively heard and considered; may make you much more circumspect, -in answering to divers questions and demands, then (perhaps) -otherwise you would be. Consider then (most woorthy assembly) that -like as folly or dulnesse, many times hath overthrowne some men from -place of eminencie, into most great and greevous miseries: even so, discreet -sense and good understanding, hath delivered many out of irksome -perils, and seated them in safest security. And to prove it true, that folly -hath made many fall from high authority, into poore and despised calamity; -may be avouched by infinite examples, which now were needeless -to remember: But, that good sense and able understanding, may -proove to be the occasion of great desolation, without happy prevention, -I will declare unto you in very few words, and make it good according -to my promise.</p> - -<p><i>Saladine</i>, was a man so powerfull and valiant, as not onely his very valour -made him Soldan of Babylon, but also gave him many signall victories, -over Kings of the Sarrazens, and of Christians likewise. Having -in divers 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 use some great summe of money, yet not -readily knowing where, or how to procure it; he remembred a rich Jew -named <i>Melchisedech</i>, that lent out money to use or interest in the City of -<i>Alexandria</i>. 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 device whereby -he might have it: he concluded, though hee might not compell him to -do it, yet by a practise shadowed with good reason to ensnare him. And -having sent for him entertained him very familiarly in his Court, and sitting -downe by him, thus began.</p> - -<p>Honest man, I have 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, which of -those three Lawes or Religions, thou takest to be truest; that of the Jew, -the other of the Sarazen, or that of the Christian? The Jew, being a very -wise man, plainly perceived, that <i>Saladine</i> sought to entrap him in his -answer, and so to raise some quarrell against him. For, if he commended -any one of those Lawes above the other, he knew that <i>Saladine</i> 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.</p> - -<p>My Lord, the question propounded by you, is faire and worthy, & to -answer mine opinion truly thereof, 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 have oftentimes heard it reported, that (long since) there was -a very wealthy man, who (among other precious Jewels of his owne) had -a goodly Ring of great valew; the beauty and estimation whereof, made -him earnestly desirous to leave 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 reverenced 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.</p> - -<p>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 (coveting to beare esteeme above the other) desired (as hee -could best make his meanes) his father, that in regard he was now grown -very old, he would leave that Ring to him, whereby he should bee acknowledged -for his heire. The good man, who loved no one of them -more then the other, knew not how to make his choise, nor to which of -them he should leave the Ring: yet having past his promise to them severally, -he studied by what meanes to satisfie them all three. Wherefore, -secretly having 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.</p> - -<p>Lying upon his death-bed, and his Sonnes then plying him by their -best opportunities, he gave to each of them a Ring. And they (after his -death) presuming severally upon their right to the inheritance & honour, -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 given by God the Father, to three such people as you have propounded: -each of them do imagine that they have 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.</p> - -<p><i>Saladine</i> well perceyving, that the Jew was too cunning to be caught -in his snare, and had answered so well, that to doe him further violence, -would redound unto his perpetuall dishonour; resolved to reveale his -neede and extremity, and try if he would therein friendly sted him. Having -disclosed the matter, and how he purposed to have dealt with him, -if he had not returned so wise an answer; the Jew lent him so great a sum -of money as hee demanded, and <i>Saladine</i> repayed it againe to him justly, -giving him other great gifts beside: respecting him as his especiall friend, -and maintaining him in very honourable condition, -neere unto his owne person.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="A_Monke_having_committed_an_offence_deserving_to_be_very_grievously_punished" id="A_Monke_having_committed_an_offence_deserving_to_be_very_grievously_punished"><i>A Monke, having committed an offence, deserving to be very grievously punished; -freede himselfe from the paine to be inflicted on him, by wittily reprehending -his Abbot, with the very same fault.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The fourth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein may be noted, that such men as will reprove those errors in others, -which remaine in themselves, commonly are the Authors of their owne reprehension.</i></h4> - - -<p>So ceased Madam <i>Philomena</i>, after the conclusion of her Tale, when -<i>Dioneus</i> sitting next unto 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.</p> - -<p>Gracious Ladies, if I faile not in understanding your generall intention; -we are purposely assembled here to tell Tales, and especially such as -may please our selves. In which respect, because nothing should be done -disorderly, I hold it lawfull for every one (as our Queene decreed before -her dignity) to relate such a novelty, as (in their owne judgement) may -cause most contentment. Wherefore having heard, that by the good admonitions -of <i>Jehannot de Chevigny</i>, <i>Abraham</i> the Jew was advised to the -salvation of his soule, and <i>Melchisedech</i> (by his witty understanding) defended -his riches from the traines of <i>Saladine</i>: I now purpose to tell you -in a few plaine words, (without feare of receiving any reprehension) how -cunningly a Monke compassed his deliverance, from a punishment intended -towards him.</p> - -<p>There was in the Country of <i>Lunigiana</i> (which is not farre distant from -our owne) a Monastery, which sometime was better furnished with holinesse -and Religion, then nowadayes they are; wherein lived (among -divers other) a young novice Monke, whose hot and lusty disposition (being -in the vigour of his yeeres) was such, as neither fastes nor prayers had -any great power over 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) uppon -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.</p> - -<p>Lascivious desire, and no religious devotion, made him draw neere -her, and whether under shrift (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 prevailed upon her frailety, and such a -bargaine passed betweene them, that (from the Church) he wonne her to -his Chamber, before any person could perceive it. Now, while this yong -lusty Monke (transported with over-fond affection) was more carelesse -of his dalliance, then he should have beene; the Lord Abbot, being newly -arisen from sleepe, and walking softly about the Cloyster, came to the -Monkes Dorter 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 perceived, that -a woman was within. Wherewith being much moved, he intended suddenly -to make him open the doore; but (upon better consideration) hee -conceived it farre more fitting for him, to returne backe to his owne -chamber, and tary untill the Monke should come forth.</p> - -<p>The Monke, though his delight with the Damosel was extraordinary, -yet feare and suspition followed upon it: for, in the very height of all his -wantonnesse, he heard a soft treading about the doore. And prying thorow -a small crevice in the same doore, perceived 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 veneriall Monke knew well enough (though wanton heate would -not let him heede it before) that most greevous punishment must be inflicted -on him; which made him sad beyond all measure. Neverthelesse, -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 have it: whereupon seeming satisfied for that season, -hee tolde the Damosell, that (being carefull of her credit) as he had -brought her in unseen of any, so he would free her from thence again, desiring -her to tarrie there (without making any noyse at all) until such time -as he returned to her.</p> - -<p>Going forth of the Chamber, and locking it fast with the key, he went -directly to the Lord Abbots lodging, and delivering him the saide key (as -every Monke used to doe the like, when he went abroade out of the Convent) -setting a good countenance on the matter, boldly saide; My Lord, -I have not yet brought in all my part of the wood, which lieth ready cut -downe in the Forrest; and having now convenient time to doe it, if you -please to give me leave, I will goe and fetch it. The Abbot perswading -himselfe, that he had not beene discovered by the Monke, and to be resolved -more assuredly in the offence committed; being not a little jocund -of so happy an accident, gladly tooke the key, and gave him leave to fetch -the wood.</p> - -<p>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 have no occasion of murmuring against -him, when he proceeded in the Monkes punishment; or rather should first -understand 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 have her disgraced before all the Monkes. Wherefore he concluded, -first to see (himselfe) what shee was, and then (afterward) to resolve upon -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 receive publike shame, by being -betrayed in this unkinde manner.</p> - -<p>My Lord Abbot looking demurely on the Maide, and perceiving her -to be faire, feate, and lovely; 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 privately with himselfe. -Why should I not take pleasure, when I may freely have it? Cares and -molestations I endure every day, but sildome find such delights prepared -for me. This is a delicate sweete young Damosell, and here is no eye that -can discover me. If I can enduce her to doe as I would have 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 never befall me; and therefore I -hold it wisedome, to take such a benefit when a man may enjoy it.</p> - -<p>Upon 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 prevent one shame by another, -was easily wonne to the Abbots will, which caused him to embrace -and kisse her often.</p> - -<p>Our lusty young novice Monke, whom the Abbot imagined to be -gone for wood, had hid himselfe aloft upon 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 undoubted certainty. -A little chincke or crevice favoured him, whereat he could both -heare and see, whatsoever was done or spoken by them: so, when the Abbot -thought hee had staide long enough with the Damosell, leaving her -still there, and locking the doore fast againe, hee returned thence to his -owne Chamber.</p> - -<p>Within some short while after, the Abbot knowing the Monke to be -in the Convent, and supposing him to be lately returned with the wood, -determined to reprove him sharpely, and to have 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 -giving him many harsh and bitter speeches, commanded, that he should -be clapt in prison.</p> - -<p>The Monke very readily answered, saying. My good Lord, I have not -yet beene so long in the order of Saint <i>Benedict</i>, as to learne all the particularities -thereto belonging. And beside Sir, you never shewed mee or -any of my brethren, in what manner we young Monkes ought to use women, -as you have otherwise done for our custome of prayer and fasting. -But seeing you have 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 never faile therein againe, but dayly -follow what I have seene you doe.</p> - -<p>The Abbot, being a man of quicke apprehension, perceived 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 deserved as much himselfe; pardoning him, -and imposing silence on eithers offence: they convayed the poore abused -Damosell forth of their doores, she purposing (never after) to transgresse -in the like manner.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="The_Lady_Marquesse_of_Montferrat_with_a_Banquet_of_Hennes_and_divers" id="The_Lady_Marquesse_of_Montferrat_with_a_Banquet_of_Hennes_and_divers"><i>The Lady Marquesse of</i> Montferrat, <i>with a Banquet of Hennes, and divers -other gracious speeches beside, repressed the fond love of the King of</i> France.</a></h4> - -<h2>The fift Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>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.</i></h4> - - -<p>The tale reported by <i>Dioneus</i>, at the first hearing of the -Ladies, began to rellish of some immodestie, as the bashfull -blood mounting up into their faces, delivered 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 gave 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 <i>Fiammetta</i>, (sitting on a banke of flowers before -her) to take her turne as next in order: and she, smiling with such a virgin-blush, -as very beautifully became her, began in this manner.</p> - -<p>It is no little joy to me, that wee understand so well (by the discourses -already past) what power consisteth in the delivery of wise and ready answeres; -And because it is a great part offence and judgement in men, to -affect women of great birth and quality, then themselves, as also an admirable -fore-sight in women, to keepe off from being surprized in love, -by Lords going beyond them in degree: a matter offereth it selfe to my -memory, well deserving 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.</p> - -<p>The Marquesse of <i>Montferrat</i> was a worthy and valiant Knight, who -being Captaine Generall for the Church, the necessary service required -his company on the Seas, in a goodly Army of the Christians against the -Turkes. Upon a day, in the Court of King <i>Philip</i>, sirnamed the one eyed -King (who likewise made preparation in <i>France</i>, for a royall assistance to -that expedition) as many speeches were delivered, concerning the valour -and manhood of this Marquesse: it fortuned, that a Knight was -then present, who knew him very familiarly, and hee gave an addition to -the former commendation, that 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; -even 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 <i>Philip</i>, that suddainly (having as yet never seene -her) he began to affect her very earnestly, concluding to embarque himselfe -at <i>Gennes</i> or <i>Genoua</i>, there to set forward on the intended voyage, -and journeying thither by land: hee would shape some honest excuse to -see the Lady Marquesse, whose Lord being then from home, opinion -perswaded him over-fondly, that he should easily obtaine the issue of his -amorous desire.</p> - -<p>When hee was come within a dayes journey, 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 judicious; -answered the Messenger, that she reputed the Kings comming to her, as -an extraordinary grace and favour, and that hee should be most heartily -welcome. Afterward, entring into further consideration with her selfe, -what the King might meane by this private 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 deceived) -that babling report of her beauty and perfections, might thus occasion -the Kings comming thither, his journy lying else a quite contrary way. Notwithstanding, -being a Princely Lady, and so loyall a wife as ever lived, -shee intended to give him her best entertainement: summoning the -chiefest Gentlemen in the Country together, to take due order (by their -advise) for giving the King a gracious welcome. But concerning the -dinner, and diet for service to his table; that remained onely at her owne -disposing.</p> - -<p>Sending presently abroade, and buying all the Hennes that the Country -afforded; shee commaunded her Cookes, that onely of them (without -any other provision beside) they should prepare all the services that -they could devise. 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 -ever he had seene before; whereat he mervailed 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.</p> - -<p>Plenty of dishes being served 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. Neverthelesse, observing each service -after other, and that all the Viands (though variously cooked, and in -divers 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 marvell the more, -that nothing was provided for him, but Hennes onely: wherein to be the -better resolved, 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 understanding 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 wives, howsoever they differ in garments and graces one from -another; yet notwithstanding, they are all heere as they be in other -places.</p> - -<p>When the King heard this reply, he knew well enough the occasion of -his Henne dinner, as also, what vertue lay couched under her answer; -perceiving apparantly, that wanton words would prove 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 unkingly 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 -<i>Gennes</i>.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="An_honest_plaine_meaning_man_simply_and_conscionably_reprehended_the_malignity" id="An_honest_plaine_meaning_man_simply_and_conscionably_reprehended_the_malignity"><i>An honest plaine meaning man, (simply and conscionably) reprehended the malignity, -hypocrisie, and misdemeanour of many Religious persons.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The sixt Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Declaring, that in few, discreete, and well placed words, the covered craft of -Church-men may be justly reproved, and their hypocrisie honestly discovered.</i></h4> - - -<p>Madam <i>Æmilia</i> sitting next to the gentle Lady <i>Fiammetta</i>, perceiving -the modest chastisement, which the vertuous Lady Marquesse had -given to the King of <i>France</i>, was generally graced by the whole Assembly; -began (after the Queene had thereto appointed her) in these words. -Nor will I conceale the deserved reprehension, which an honest simple -lay-man, gave to a covetous holy Father, in very few words; yet more to -be commended, then derided.</p> - -<p>Not long since (worthy Ladies) there dwelt in our owne native 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 understanding; and yet not so defective 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 judgement they could have done.</p> - -<p>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 never 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 up full with -no meane abundance: <i>cum gladiis & fustibus</i>; 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, understanding -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.</p> - -<p>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 uttered. Presently the Inquisitor, most devoutly addicted -to Saint <i>John</i> 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 Taverne 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 deserveth fire and faggot, if I should proceede in Justice 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 believe 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 eare, and -(by secret means) so annointed his hands with Saint <i>Johns</i> golden grease, -(a very singular remedy against the disease pestilentiall in covetous -Priests, especially Friars Minors, that dare touch no money) as the case -became very quickly altered.</p> - -<p>This soveraigne unction was of such vertue (though <i>Galen</i> speakes not -a word thereof among all his chiefest medicines) and so farre prevailed; -that the terrible threatening words of fire and fagot, became meerely frozen -up, and gracious language blew a more gentle and calmer ayre; the -Inquisitor delivering him an hallowed Crucifixe, creating him a Souldier -of the Crosse (because he had payed Crosses good store for it) and even -as if he were to travell under that Standard to the holy Land; so did hee -appoint him a home-paying pennance, namely, to visit him thrice every -weeke in his Chamber, and to annoint his hands with the selfe-same yellow -unguent, 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.</p> - -<p>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 injunction) to heare Masse, in the Gospell he observed -these wordes; <i>You shall receive an hundred for one, and so possesse eternall -life</i>; 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 have heard, but doe beleeve all constantly; onely one thing -troubleth me much, and maketh me very compassionate of you, and of -all these holy Fathers your brethren, perceiving 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 moved to such -compassion of us? O good Sir, saide the man, doe you remember the -words in the Gospell this morning? you shall receive an hundred for -one. That is very true, replied the Inquisitor, but what moveth thee to -urge those words?</p> - -<p>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 have daily seene -many poore people at your doore, and (out of your abundance) when -you and your brethren have fed sufficiently, every one hath had a good -messe of pottage: now Sir, if for every dishfull given, you are sure to receive -an hundred againe, you will all be meerely drowned in pottage. Although -the rest (sitting at the Table with the Inquisitor) laughed heartily -at this jest; yet he found himselfe toucht in another nature, having (hypocritically) -received for one poore offence, above 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.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Bergamino_by_telling_a_Tale_of_a_skilfull_man_named_Primasso_and_of_an_Abbot" id="Bergamino_by_telling_a_Tale_of_a_skilfull_man_named_Primasso_and_of_an_Abbot"><i>Bergamino, by telling a Tale of a skilfull man, named</i> Primasso, <i>and of an Abbot -of Clugni; honestly checked a new kinde of covetousnesse, in Master</i> -Can de la Scala.</a></h4> - -<h2>The seaventh Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Approving, that it is much unfitting for a Prince, or great person, to be covetous; -but rather to be liberall to all men.</i></h4> - - -<p>The curteous demeanor of Madam <i>Æmilia</i>, and the quaintnesse of her -discourse, caused both the Queene, and the rest of the company, to -commend the invention of carrying the Crosse, and the golden oyntment -appointed for pennance. Afterward, <i>Philostratus</i>, who was in order to -speake next, began in this manner.</p> - -<p>It is a commendable thing (faire Ladies) to hit a But that never stirreth -out of his place: but it is a matter much more admirable, to see a thing -(suddenly appearing, and sildome or never frequented before) to be as -suddenly hit by an ordinary Archer. The vicious and polluted lives of -Priests, yeeldeth matter of it selfe in many things, deserving 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 giving 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 reproved Master <i>Can de la Scala</i>, a Magnifico and mightie -Lord, for a sudden and unaccustomed covetousnesse appearing in him, -figuring by other men, that which he intended to say of him, in manner -following.</p> - -<p>Master <i>Can de la Scala</i>, as fame ranne abroade of him in all places, was -(beyond the infinite favours of Fortune towards him) one of the most -notable and magnificent Lords that ever lived in <i>Italy</i>, since the dayes of -<i>Fredericke</i> the second Emperour. He determining to procure a very solemne -assembly at <i>Verona</i>, and many people being met there from divers -places, especially Gentlemen of all degrees; suddenly (upon 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 -unrespected, or in any kinde sort sent away, whose name was <i>Bergamino</i>, -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 over long delayed, yet hee made no -doubt of a beneficiall ending.</p> - -<p>By some enemies of his, Master <i>Can de la Scala</i> was incensed, that whatsoever -he gave or bestowed on him; was as ill imployed and utterly 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 over, and <i>Bergamino</i> -perceiving, that hee was neither called, nor any account made of, notwithstanding -many manly good parts in him; observing beside, that hee -found a shrewd consumption in his purse, his Inne, horses, and servants -being chargeable to him: he began to grow extremely melancholly, and -yet hee attended in expectation day by day, as thinking it farre unfitting -for him, to depart before he was bidden farewell.</p> - -<p>Having brought with him thither three goodly rich garments, which -had beene given him by sundry Lords, for his more sightly appearance -at this great meeting: the importunate Host being greedy of payment, -first he delivered him one of them, and yet not halfe the score being wiped -off, the second must needes follow, and beside, except he meant to leave -his lodging, hee must live upon the third so long as it would last, till hee -saw what end his hopes would sort to. It fortuned, during the time of -living thus upon his latest refuge, that he met with Maister <i>Can</i> one day -at dinner, where he presented himselfe before him, with a discontented -countenance: which Master <i>Can</i> well observing, more to distaste him, -then take delight in any thing that could come from him, he said. <i>Bergamino</i>, -how chearest thou? Thou art very melancholly, I pray thee tell us -why? <i>Bergamino</i> suddenly, without any premeditation, yet seeming as if -he had long considered thereon, reported this Tale.</p> - -<p>Sir, I have heard of a certaine man, named <i>Primasso</i>, 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 never saw him, but onely heard of him, could easily say, this -is <i>Primasso</i>. It came to passe, that being once at <i>Paris</i>, in poore estate, as -commonly hee could light on no better fortune (because vertue is slenderly -rewarded, by such as have the greatest possessions) he heard much -fame of the Abbot of <i>Clugni</i>, 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 -never made refusall of any (from whence so ever hee came or went) but -they did eate and drinke freely there; provided, that they came when -the Abbot was set at the Table. <i>Primasso</i> hearing this, and being an earnest -desirer, to see magnificent and vertuous men; he resolved to goe see -this rare bounty of the Abbot, demaunding how far he dwelt from <i>Paris</i>. -Being answered, about some three leagues thence; <i>Primasso</i> made account, -that if he went on betimes in the morning, he should easily reach -thither before the houre for dinner.</p> - -<p>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 loaves of bread with him, knowing that he could meete -with water every where, albeit he used to drinke but little. Having aptly -convayed his bread about him, he went on his journey, and arrived at the -Lord Abbots Court, an indifferent while before dinner time: wherefore, -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 provision 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.</p> - -<p>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 every one -sitting downe at the Table: it fell to the lot of <i>Primasso</i>, 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 served to -any, of the Tables, untill the Lord Abbot was himselfe first sette: -whereupon, every thing being fitte and readie, the Maister of the -houshold, went to tell his Lord, that nothing now wanted but his presence -onely.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Primasso</i>, -who being but in homely habite, and he having not seene him before to -his remembrance; a present bad conceite possessed his braine, that he never -saw an unworthier person, saying within himselfe: See how I give -my goods away to be devoured. So returning backe to his Chamber -againe, commaunded the doore to be made fast, demaunding of every -man neere about him, if they knew the base Knave that sate before his -entrance into the Hall, and all his servants answered no. <i>Primasso</i> being -extreamely hungry, with travailing on foote so farre, and never used to -fast so long; expecting still when meate would be served in, and that the -Abbot came not at all: drew out one of his loaves which hee brought -with him, and very heartily fell to feeding.</p> - -<p>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 servant -told him, that he still stayed there, and fed upon 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 <i>Primasso</i> should have gone thence of himselfe, and yet -held it scarsely honest in his Lordship, to dismisse him by his owne command. -<i>Primasso</i> having eaten one of his Loaves, and yet the Abbot was -not come; began to feede upon the second: the Abbot still sending to -expect his absence, and answered as he was before. At length, the Abbot -not comming, and <i>Primasso</i> having eaten up his second loafe, hunger -compeld him to begin with the third.</p> - -<p>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 whatsoever? I have -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 knave, never refraining -my presence in the Hall, by basely contemning one poore man. Beleeve -me, covetousnesse 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 deserve more honour -then I am able to give him.</p> - -<p>Having thus discoursed with himselfe, he would needs understande of -whence and what he was, and finding him to be <i>Primasso</i>, come onely to -see the magnificence which he had reported of him, knowing also (by the -generall fame noysed every where of 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, strove many waies how -to do him honour. When dinner was ended, the Abbot bestowed honourable -garments on him, such as beseemed his degree and merit, and putting -good store of money in his purse, as also giving 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 <i>Primasso</i> being highly -contented, yeelding him the heartiest thankes he could devise to doe, -returned to <i>Paris</i> on horse-back, albeit he came poorly thether on foot.</p> - -<p>Master <i>Can de la Scala</i>, who was a man of good understanding, perceyved -immediately (without any further interpretation) what <i>Bergamino</i> -meant by this morall, and smiling on him, saide: <i>Bergamino</i>, thou hast -honestly expressed thy vertue and necessities, and justly reprooved mine -avarice, niggardnesse, and base folly. And trust me <i>Bergamino</i>, I never -felt such a fit of covetousness come upon me, as this which I have dishonestly -declared to thee: and which I will now banish from me, with the -same correction as thou hast taught mee. So, having 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.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Guillaume_Boursier_with_a_few_quaint_and_familiar_words_checkt_the_miserable" id="Guillaume_Boursier_with_a_few_quaint_and_familiar_words_checkt_the_miserable"><i>Guillaume Boursier, with a few quaint and familiar words, checkt the miserable -covetousnesse of Signior</i> Herminio de Grimaldi.</a></h4> - -<h2>The eight Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Which plainly declareth, that a covetous Gentleman, is not worthy of any honour -or respect.</i></h4> - - -<p>Madam <i>Lauretta</i>, sitting next to <i>Philostratus</i>, when she had heard the -witty conceite of <i>Bergamino</i>; knowing, that shee was to say somewhat, -without injunction or command, pleasantly thus began.</p> - -<p>This last discourse (faire and vertuous company) induceth mee to tell -you, how an honest Courtier reprehended in like manner (and nothing -unprofitably) base covetousnesse in a Merchant of extraordinary wealth. -Which Tale, although (in effect) it may seeme to resemble the former; -yet perhaps, it will prove no lesse pleasing to you, in regard it sorted to -as good an end.</p> - -<p>It is no long time since, that there lived in <i>Genes</i> or <i>Geneway</i>, a Gentleman -named Signior <i>Herminio de Grimaldi</i>, who (as every one wel knew) -was more rich in inheritances, and ready summes of currant mony, then -any other knowne Citizen in <i>Italy</i>. And as hee surpassed other men in -wealth, so did he likewise excell them in wretched Avarice, being so miserably -greedy and covetous, as no man in the world could be more wicked -that way; because, not onely he kept his purse lockt up from pleasuring -any, but denied needful things to himself, enduring many miseries & -distresses, onely to avoide expences, contrary to the <i>Genewayes</i> generall -custome, who alwayes delighted to be decently cloathed, and to have -their dyet of the best. By reason of which most miserable basenesse, they -tooke from him the sir-name of <i>Grimaldi</i>, whereof hee was in right descended: -and called him master <i>Herminio</i> the covetous Mizer, a nickname -very notably agreeing with his gripple nature.</p> - -<p>It came to passe, that in this time of his spending nothing, but multiplying -daily by infinite meanes, that a civill honest Gentleman (a Courtier, -of ready wit, and discoursive in Languages) came to <i>Geneway</i>, being -named <i>Guillaume Boursier</i>. A man very farre differing from divers -Courtiers in these dayes, who for soothing shamefull and gracelesse manners, -in such as allow them maintenance, are called and reputed to bee -Gentlemen, yea especiall favourites: whereas much more worthily, they -should be accounted as knaves and villaines, being borne and bred in all -filthinesse, and skilfull in every kinde of basest behaviour, 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 loving speeches) would recreate disturbed mindes, desiring none -but commendable exercises in Court, and sharpely reprooving (like fathers) -disordred life, or ill actions in any, albeit with recompence little, -or none at all: these upstarts 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, upbraiding him with injuries, shames, and scandals -(true or not true) upon the very least occasion. And by false and deceitfull -flatteries and villanies of their own inventing, they make Gentlemen -to become as vile as themselves. For which detestable qualities, they are -better beloved and respected of theyr misdemeanour'd Lords, and recompenced -in more bountifull manner, then men of vertuous carriage and desert. -Which is an argument sufficient, that goodnesse is gone up to heaven, -and hath quite forsaken these loathed lower Regions, where men are -drowned in the mud of all abhominable vices.</p> - -<p>But returning where I left (being led out of my way by a just and religious -anger against such deformity) this Gentleman, Master <i>Guillaume -Boursier</i>, was willingly seene, and gladly welcommed by all the best men -in <i>Geneway</i>. Having remayned some few dayes in the City, & (among -other matters) heard much talke of the miserable covetousnes of master -<i>Herminio</i>, he grew verie desirous to have a sight of him. Master <i>Herminio</i> -had already understood, that this Gentleman, Master <i>Guillaume Boursier</i>, -was vertuously disposed, and (how covetously soever he was inclined) having -in him some sparkes of noble nature; gave him very good words, and -gracious entertainement, discoursing with him on divers occasions.</p> - -<p>In company of other <i>Genewayes</i> with him, he 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 <i>Guillaume</i>, -no doubt but you have heard and seene many things, and you can -instruct me in some quaint conceit or devise, to be fairely figured in painting, -at the entrance into the great Hall of my House. Master <i>Guillaume</i> -hearing him speake so simply, returned him this answere; Sir, I cannot advise -you in any thing, so rare or unseen as you talke of: but how to sneeze -(after a new manner) upon a full and overcloyed stomacke, to avoide -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, wherewith -(as yet) you never came acquainted.</p> - -<p>Master <i>Herminio</i> hearing him say so, and expecting no such answere as -he had saide; Good Master <i>Guillaume</i>, tell me what it is, and on my faith -I will have it fairely painted. Whereto Master <i>Guillaume</i> suddenly replied: -Doe nothing but this Sir; Paint over the Portall at your Halles entrance, -the lively picture of Liberality, to bid all your friends better welcome, -then hitherto they have beene. When Master <i>Herminio</i> heard -these words, he became possessed with such a sudden shame, that his complexion -changed from the former palenesse, and answered thus. Master -<i>Guillaume</i>, I will have your advice so truly figured over my gate, and shee -shall give so good welcome to all my guests, that both you, and all these -Gentlemen shall say; I have both seene her, and am become reasonably -acquainted with her. From that time forward, the words of Master <i>Guillaume</i> -were so effectuall with Signior <i>Herminio</i>, that he became the most -bountifull and best house-keeper, which lived in his time in <i>Geneway</i>; no -man more honouring and friendly welcoming both strangers and Citizens, -then he continually used to doe.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="The_King_of_Cyprus_was_wittily_reprehended_by_the_words_of_a_Gentlewoman" id="The_King_of_Cyprus_was_wittily_reprehended_by_the_words_of_a_Gentlewoman"><i>The King of Cyprus was wittily reprehended, by the words of a Gentlewoman -of Gascoignie, and became vertuously altered from his vicious disposition.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The ninth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Giving all men to understand, that Justice is necessary in a King, above all things -else whatsoever.</i></h4> - - -<p>The last command of the Queene, remained upon Madam <i>Elissa</i>, or -<i>Eliza</i>, 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 adventure, and perhaps -not purposely determined, hath effectually done the deede: as appeareth -by the Tale of Madam <i>Lauretta</i>, and another of mine owne, -wherewith I intend briefly to acquaint you, approving, that when good -words are discreetly observed, they are of soveraigne power and vertue.</p> - -<p>In the dayes of the first King of <i>Cyprus</i>, after the Conquest made in the -holy Land by <i>Godfrey</i> of <i>Bullen</i>, it fortuned, that a Gentlewoman of <i>Gascoignie</i>, -travelling in pilgrimage, to visit the sacred Sepulcher in <i>Jerusalem</i>, -returning home againe, arrived at <i>Cyprus</i>, 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 justice the offences of others, but -also suffered shamefull injuries 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.</p> - -<p>When the Gentlewoman heard this, despairing of any consolation, -or revenge for her wrongs, shee resolved to checke the Kings deniall of -justice, and comming before him weeping, spake in this manner. Sir, I -presume not into your presence, as hoping to have redresse by you, for -divers dishonourable injuries done unto 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.</p> - -<p>The King, who (till then) had beene very bad, dull, and slothfull, -even as sleeping out his time of governement; beganne to revenge the -wrongs done to this Gentlewoman very severely, and (thenceforward) -became a most sharpe Justicer, for the least offence offered against the -honour of his Crowne, or to any of his subjects beside.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Master_Albert_of_Bullen_honestly_made_a_Lady_to_blush_that_thought_to_have" id="Master_Albert_of_Bullen_honestly_made_a_Lady_to_blush_that_thought_to_have"><i>Master</i> Albert <i>of Bullen, honestly made a Lady to blush, that thought to have -done as much to him, because shee perceived him, to be amorously affected -towards her.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The tenth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is declared, that honest love agreeth with people of all ages.</i></h4> - - -<p>After that Madam <i>Eliza</i> 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 -Starres (when the Ayre is faire and cleere) are the adorning and beauty -of Heaven, and flowers (while the Spring time lasteth) doe graciously embellish -the Meadowes; even 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.</p> - -<p>Among us women, this day, I thinke few or none have therein offended, -but as readily have understood short and pithy speeches, as they have -beene quicke and quaintly delivered. But when answering suteth not -with understanding, it is generally a shame in us, and all such as live; because -our moderne times have converted that vertue, which was within -them who lived before us, 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 have most matter in her, and -therefore to be more honoured and esteemed. Never considering, that -whosoever loadeth the backe of an Asse, or puts upon him the richest -braverie; he becommeth not thereby a jote the wiser, or merriteth any -more honour then an Asse should have. I am ashamed to speake it, because -in detecting other, I may (perhaps) as justly taxe my selfe.</p> - -<p>Such imbroydered bodies, tricked and trimmed in such boasting -bravery, are they any thing else but as Marble Statues, dumbe, dull, and -utterly 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 devise and conference among men and women, -they would have the world to thinke, that it proceedeth but from simplicity -and precise opinion, covering 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.</p> - -<p>Most true it is, that as there is a respect to be used in the action of other -things; so, time and place are necessarily to be considered, and also whom -we converse withall; because sometimes it happeneth, that a man or woman, -intending (by a word of jest and merriment) to make another body -blush or be ashamed: not knowing what strength of wit remaineth in -the opposite, doe convert the same disgrace upon themselves. Therefore, -that we may the more advisedly stand upon out owne guard, and to -prevent the common proverbe, <i>That Women (in all things) make choyse of -the woorst:</i> I desire that this dayes last tale, which is to come from my -selfe, may make us 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 selves not inferiour to them.</p> - -<p>It is not many yeares since (worthy assembly) that in <i>Bulloigne</i> there -dwelt a learned Physitian, a man famous for skill, and farre renowned, -whose name was Master <i>Albert</i>, 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. Having -seene (at a Banquet) a very beautifull woman, being then in the estate of -widdowhood, named (as some say) Madame <i>Margaret de Chisolieri</i>, 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 lovely 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.</p> - -<p>Both shee and other Gentlewomen, perceiving the occasion of his -passing and repassing; would privately jest thereat together, to see a man -of such yeares and discretion, to be amorously addicted, or over-swayed -by effeminate passions. For they were partly perswaded, that such wanton -Ague fits of Love, were fit for none but youthfull apprehensions, as -best agreeing with their chearefull complexion. Master <i>Albert</i> continuing -his dayly walkes by the widdowes lodging, it chaunced upon a Feastivall -day, that shee (accompanied with divers other women of great account) -being sitting at her doore; espied Master <i>Albert</i> (farre off) comming -thitherward, and a resolved determination among themselves was -set downe, to allow him favourable entertainement, and to jest (in some -merry manner) at his loving folly, as afterward they did indeede.</p> - -<p>No sooner was he come neere, but they all arose, and courteously invited -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, aptly suting -with her yeares and desires? Master <i>Albert</i> perceiving, 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.</p> - -<p>Beleeve 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 Love, are bereft and gone from aged people; yet goodwill -thereto cannot be taken from them, neither judgement to know such as -deserve 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 reverence. The hope which incited me (being aged) to -love you, that are affected of so many youthfull Gallants, grew thus. I -have often chaunced into divers places, where I have 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 unreasonable appetite) will hold the -heads of them in your hands, and feede upon the blades or stalkes; which -not onely are not good for any thing, but also are of very bad savour. 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.</p> - -<p>The widdowed Gentlewoman, and all the rest in her company, being -bashfully ashamed of her owne and their folly, presently said. Master -<i>Albert</i>, you have both well and worthily chastised our over-bold presumption, -and beleeve mee Sir, I repute your love and kindnesse of no -meane merit, comming from a man so wise and vertuous: And therefore -(mine honour reserved) commaund my uttermost, as alwayes ready -to do you any honest service. Master <i>Albert</i>, arising from his seat, thanking -the faire widdow for her gentle offer; tooke leave of her and all the company, -and she blushing, as all the rest were therein not much behinde her, -thinking to checke him, became chidden her selfe, whereby (if wee be -wise) let us all take warning.</p> - -<p>The Sunne was now somewhat farre declined, and the heates extremity -well worne away, when the Tales of the seaven Ladies and three -Gentlemen were thus finished, whereupon their Queene pleasantly said. -For this day (faire company) there remaineth nothing more to be done -under my regiment, but onely to bestow a new Queene upon you, who -(according to her judgement) 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 whatsoever 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 severally begin. -And therefore, in reverence to him that giveth life to all things, and -in hope of comfort by our second day; Madame <i>Philomena</i>, a most wise -young Lady, shall governe as Queene this our Kingdome.</p> - -<p>So soone as she had thus spoken, arising from her seate of dignity, and -taking the Lawrell Crowne from off her owne head; she reverently placed -it upon Madame <i>Philomenaes</i>, she first of all humbly saluting her, and -then all the rest, openly confessing her to be their Queene, made gracious -offer to obey whatsoever she commaunded. <i>Philomena</i>, her cheekes -delivering a scarlet tincture, to see her selfe thus honoured as their -Queene, and well remembring the words, so lately uttered by Madame -<i>Pampinea</i>; that dulnesse or neglect might not be noted in her, tooke -cheerefull courage to her, and first of all, she confirmed the officers, which -<i>Pampinea</i> had appointed the day before, then shee ordained for the morrowes -provision, as also for the supper so neere approaching, before they -departed away from thence, and then thus began.</p> - -<p>Lovely Companions, although that Madam <i>Pampinea</i>, 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 judgement, 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 understand my meaning. If you have well -considered on the course, which this day hath bene kept by Madam <i>Pampinea</i>, -me thinkes it hath bene very pleasing and commendable; in which -regard, untill by over-tedious continuation, or other occasions of irkesome -offence, it shall seeme injurious, I am of the minde, not to alter it. -Holding on the order then as we have begun to do, we will depart from -hence to recreate our selves 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 every one shall finde fittest for them, even as already -this day we have done; untill due time shall summon us hither againe, -to continue our discoursive Tales, wherein (me thinkes) consisteth -both pleasure and profit, especially by discreete observation.</p> - -<p>Very true it is, that some things which Madam <i>Pampinea</i> coulde not -accomplish, by reason of her so small time of authority, I will beginne to -undergo, to wit, in restraining some matters whereon we are to speake, -that better premeditation may passe upon them. For, when respite and -a little leysure goeth before them, each discourse will savour 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 have bene guided (by Fortune) -thorow divers accidents and occasions: so beyond all hope & expectation, -the issue and successe hath bin good and succesfull, and accordingly -should every one of our arguments be chosen.</p> - -<p>The Ladies, and the yong Gentlemen likewise, commended her advice, -and promised to imitate it; onely <i>Dioneus</i> excepted, who when every -one was silent, spake thus. Madam, I say as all the rest have done, -that the order by you appointed, is most pleasing and worthy to bee allowed. -But I intreate one speciall favour for my selfe, and to have 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 urge this grace of you, as -being unfurnished of discourses in this kinde, I am well contented to be -the last in every dayes exercise.</p> - -<p>The Queene, knowing him to be a man full of mirth and matter, began -to consider very advisedly, that he would not have mooved this request, -but onely to the end, that if the company grew wearied by any of -the Tales re-counted, hee would shut uppe 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 river, -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 <i>Æmilia</i>, assisted by Madam <i>Lauretta</i> and <i>Dioneus</i>, shold sing -a sweet ditty. At which command, <i>Lauretta</i> undertooke the dance, and -led it, <i>Æmilia</i> singing this song ensuing.</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">The Song.<br /></span></i> -</div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">So much delight my beauty yeelds to mee,<br /></span> -<span class="i13">That any other Love,<br /></span> -<span class="i13">To wish or prove;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can never sute it selfe with my desire.<br /></span> -</i></div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">Therein I see, upon good observation,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What sweete content due understanding lends:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Olde or new thoughts cannot in any fashion<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rob me of that, which mine owne soule commends.<br /></span> -<span class="i13">What object then,<br /></span> -<span class="i15">(mongst infinites of men)<br /></span> -<span class="i13">Can I ever finde<br /></span> -<span class="i15">to dispossesse my minde,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And plant therein another new desire?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">So much delight, &c.<br /></span> -</i></div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">But were it so, the blisse that I would chuse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is, by continuall sight to comfort me:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So rare a presence never to refuse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which mortall tongue or thought, what ere it be;<br /></span> -<span class="i13">Must still conceale,<br /></span> -<span class="i15">not able to reveale,<br /></span> -<span class="i13">Such a sacred sweete,<br /></span> -<span class="i15">for none other meete,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But hearts enflamed with the same desire.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">So much delight, &c.<br /></span> -</i></div></div> - - -<p>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 gave ending to this first dayes Recreation. -So, lights being brought, they departed to their severall Lodgings, -to take their rest till the next morning.</p> - - -<h4><i>The End of the first Day.</i></h4> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="The_Second_Day" id="The_Second_Day">The Second Day.</a></h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein, all the Discourses are under the government of Madam Philomena: -Concerning such men or women, as (in divers accidents) have beene much -molested by Fortune, and yet afterward, contrary to their hope and expectation, -have had a happy and successefull deliverance.</i></h4> - - -<p>Already had the bright Sunne renewed the day every -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 seven 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 even 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, having -put on her Crowne of Laurell, and giving a gracious countenance -to the whole company; commanded Madam <i>Neiphila</i> that her Tale -should begin this daies delight. Whereupon she, without returning any -excuse or deniall, began in this manner.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Martellino_counterfetting_to_be_lame_of_his_members_caused_himselfe_to_be_set" id="Martellino_counterfetting_to_be_lame_of_his_members_caused_himselfe_to_be_set">Martellino <i>counterfetting to be lame of his members, caused himselfe to be set -on the body of Saint</i> Arriguo, <i>where he made shew of his sudden recovery; -but when his dissimulation was discovered, 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.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The first Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is signified, how easie a thing it is, for wicked men to deceive the world, -under the shadow and colour of miracles: and that such trechery (oftentimes) -redoundeth to the harme of the deviser.</i></h4> - - -<p>Faire Ladies, it hath happened many times, that hee who striveth to -scorne and floute other men, and especially in occasions deserving to -be respected, proveth to mocke himselfe with the selfe-same matter, yea, -and to his no meane danger beside. As you shall perceive by a Tale, -which I intend to tell you, obeying therein the command of our Queene, -and according to the subject by her enjoyned. In which discourse, you -may first observe, what great mischance happened to one of our Citizens; -and yet afterward, how (beyond all hope) he happily escaped.</p> - -<p>Not long since there lived in the City of <i>Trevers</i>, an <i>Almaine</i> or <i>Germaine</i>, -named <i>Arriguo</i>, [Or Arrigo.] who being a poore man, served 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 <i>Trevers</i> themselves affirmed) in the very instant houre of his departing, -all the Belles in the great Church of <i>Trevers</i>, (not being pulled -by the helpe of any hand) beganne to ring: which being accounted for a -miracle, every one saide; that this <i>Arriguo</i> 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, even as if every one should forth-with be holpen, onely -by their touching the bodie.</p> - -<p>It came to passe, that in so great a concourse of people, as resorted thither -from all parts; three of our Cittizens went to <i>Trevers</i>, one of them -being named <i>Stechio</i>, the second <i>Martellino</i>, and the third <i>Marquiso</i>, all -being men of such condition, as frequented Princes Courts, to give them -delight by pleasant & counterfeited qualities. None of these men having -ever beene at <i>Trevers</i> 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. Having ordered all affaires at their -lodging, <i>Marquiso</i> saide; It is fit for us to see this Saint, but I know not -how we shall attaine thereto, because (as I have heard) the place is guarded -by Germane Souldiers, and other warlike men, commanded thither -by the Governours of this City, least any outrage should be there committed: -And beside, the Church is so full of people, as wee shall never -compasse to get neere. <i>Martellino</i> 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 <i>Marquiso</i>. I will tell -thee, answered <i>Martellino</i>. 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 -<i>Stechio</i>, 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; every one will -make way, and freely give you leave to goe on.</p> - -<p>This devise was very pleasing to <i>Marquiso</i> and <i>Stechio</i>, so that (without -any further delaying) they all three left their lodging, and resorting into -a secret corner aside, <i>Martellino</i> so writhed and mishaped his hands, fingers, -and armes, his legges, mouth, eyes, and whole countenance, that it -was a dreadfull sight to looke upon him, and whosoever beheld him, -would verily have imagined, that hee was utterly lame of his limbes, and -greatly deformed in his body. <i>Marquiso</i> and <i>Stechio</i>, 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 every one -that they met, to grant them free passage, whereto they charitably condiscended.</p> - -<p>Thus leading him on, crying still; Beware there before, and give way -for Gods sake, they arrived at the body of Saint <i>Arriguo</i>, that (by his helpe) -he might be healed. And while all eyes were diligently observing, what -miracle would be wrought on <i>Martellino</i>, hee having sitten a small space -upon the Saints bodie, and being sufficiently skilfull in counterfeiting; beganne -first to extend forth 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 <i>Arriguo</i>, even -as if it had thundered in the Church.</p> - -<p>Now it chanced by ill fortune, that there stood a <i>Florentine</i> neere to -the body, who knew <i>Martellino</i> very perfectly; but appearing so monstrously -misshapen, when he was brought into the Church, hee could take no -knowledge of him. But when he saw him stand up 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 never 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 <i>Florentine</i>) -I know him to be as direct in his limbes and body, as you; I, or any -of us all are: but indeede, he knowes better how to dissemble counterfet -trickes, then any man else that ever I saw.</p> - -<p>When they heard this, they discoursed no further with the <i>Florentine</i>, -but pressed on mainely to the place where <i>Martellino</i> 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 -us, came hither in false and counterfet manner. So laying hands uppon -him, they threw him against the ground, haling him by the haire on his -head, and tearing the garments from his backe, spurning him with their -feete, and beating him with their fists, that many were much ashamed to -see it.</p> - -<p>Poore <i>Martellino</i> was in a pittifull case, crying out for mercy, but no -man would heare him; for, the more he cried, the more still they did beat -him, as meaning to leave no life in him, which <i>Stechio</i> and <i>Marquiso</i> seeing, -considered with themselves, that they were likewise in a desperate -case; and therefore, fearing to be as much misused, they cryed out among -the rest; Kill the counterfet knave, lay on loade, and spare him not; neverthelesse, -they tooke care how to get him out of the peoples handes, -as doubting, least they would kill him indeede, by their extreame violence.</p> - -<p>Sodainly, <i>Marquiso</i> bethought him how to do it, and proceeded thus. -All the Sergeants for Justice standing at the Church doore, hee ran with -all possible speede to the <i>Potestates</i> Lieutenant, and said unto him. Good -my Lord Justice, 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 have -my money againe. He hearing this, sent for a dozen of the Sergeants, -who went to apprehend unhappy <i>Martellino</i>, and recover 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 Cut-purse. -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.</p> - -<p>Upon these clamours and complaints, the <i>Potestates</i> Lieutenant (being -a man of rude quality) tooke him sodainly aside, and examined him -of the crimes wherewith he was charged. But <i>Martellino</i>, as making no -account of these accusations, laughed, and returned scoffing answeres. -Whereat the Judge, waxing much displeased, delivered him over to the -Strappado, and stood by himselfe, to have him confesse the crimes imposed -on him, and then to hang him afterward. Beeing let downe to the -ground, the Judge still demaunded of him, whether the accusations against -him were true, or no? Affirming, that it nothing avayled him to -deny it: whereupon hee thus spake to the Judge. 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 will -tell you that, which (as yet) I have not done, otherwise I purpose to make -you no more answers.</p> - -<p>Well (quoth the Judge) thou requirest but reason; & calling divers -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 <i>Martellino</i> hearing, replyed. My Lord, they al lie in their throats, -as I will plainly prove before you. I would to God I had never set foote -within this City, as it is not many houres since my first entrance, and presently -after mine arrivall, I went (in an evill 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 unto 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 have said, I humbly entreate you, that upon these bad mens reportes -and false informations, I may not be thus tormented, and put in perill of -my life.</p> - -<p>While matters proceeded in this manner, <i>Marquiso</i> and <i>Stechio</i>, understanding -how roughly the <i>Potestates</i> Lieutenant dealt with <i>Martellino</i> -and that he had already given him the Strappado; were in heavy perplexity, -saying to themselves; we have 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 <i>Alexander Agolante</i>, who dwelt in <i>Trevers</i>, 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 <i>Martellino</i>.</p> - -<p>Master <i>Alexander</i>, after he had laughed heartily at this hotte peece of -service, went with him to the Lord of <i>Trevers</i>; prevailing so well with -him, that he sent to have <i>Martellino</i> brought before him. The Messengers -that went for him, found him standing in his shirt before the Judge, very -shrewdly shaken with the Strappado, trembling and quaking pittifully. -For the Judge would not heare any thing in his excuse; but hating him -(perhaps) because hee was a Florentine: flatly determined to have him -hangde by the necke, and would not deliver him to the Lorde, untill in -meere despight he was compeld to do it.</p> - -<p>The Lord of <i>Trevers</i>, when <i>Martellino</i> came before him, and had acquainted -him truly with every particular: Master <i>Alexander</i> requested, -that he might be dispatched thence for <i>Florence</i>, 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 <i>Martellino</i> -to be handsomely apparrelled, delivering them also his Passe, they -escaped out of further danger, and tarried no where, till they came unto -<i>Florence</i>.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Rinaldo_de_Este_after_he_was_robbed_by_Theeves_arrived_at_Chasteau_Guillaume" id="Rinaldo_de_Este_after_he_was_robbed_by_Theeves_arrived_at_Chasteau_Guillaume"><i>Rinaldo de Este, after he was robbed by Theeves, arrived at Chasteau Guillaume, -where he was friendly lodged by a faire widdow, and recompenced -likewise for all his losses; returning afterward safe and well home into his -owne house.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The second Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Whereby wee may learne, that such things as sometime seeme hurtfull to us, -may turne to our benefit and commodity.</i></h4> - - -<p>Much merriment was among the Ladies, hearing this Tale of <i>Martellinos</i> -misfortunes, so familiarly reported by Madam <i>Neiphila</i>, and -of the men, it was best respected by <i>Philostratus</i>, who sitting neerest unto -<i>Neiphila</i>, the Queene commanded his Tale to be the next, when presently -he began to speake thus.</p> - -<p>Gracious Ladies, I am to speake of universall occasions, mingled with -some misfortunes in part, and partly with matters leaning to love: as many -times may happen to such people, that trace the dangerous pathes of -amorous desires, or have not learned perfectly, to say S. <i>Julians pater noster</i>, -having good beds of their owne, yet (casually) meete with worser -lodging.</p> - -<p>In the time of <i>Azzo</i>, Marquesse of <i>Ferrara</i>, there was a Marchant named -<i>Rinaldo de Este</i>, who being one day at <i>Bologna</i>, about some especiall -businesse of his owne; his occasions there ended, and riding from thence -towards <i>Verona</i>, he fell in company with other Horsemen, seeming to be -Merchants like himselfe; but indeede were Theeves, men of most badde -life and conversation; yet he having no such mistrust of them, rode on, conferring -with them very familiarly. They perceiving him to be a Merchant, -and likely to have some store of money about him, concluded betweene -themselves to rob him, so soone as they found apt place and opportunity. -But because he should conceive 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 -service, accounting themselves happy by his companie, as hee returned -the same courtesie to them, because he was alone, and but one servant -with him.</p> - -<p>Falling from one discourse to another, they began to talke of such -prayers, as men (in journey) use to salute God withall; and one of the -Theeves (they being three in number), spake thus to <i>Rinaldo</i>. Sir, let it be -no offence to you, that I desire to know, what prayer you most use when -thus you travell on the way? Whereto <i>Rinaldo</i> replyed in this manner. -To tell you true Sir, I am a man grosse enough in such Divine matters, -as medling more with Marchandize, then I do with Bookes. Neverthelesse, -at all times when I am thus in journey, in the morning before I depart -my Chamber, I say a <i>Pater noster</i> and an <i>Ave Maria</i>, for the souls of -the father and mother of Saint <i>Julian</i>, and after that, I pray God and S. -<i>Julian</i> to send me a good lodging at night. And let me tell you Sir, that -very oftentimes heeretofore, I have met with many great dangers upon -the way, from all which I still escaped, and evermore (when night drewe -on) I came to an exceeding good Lodging. Which makes mee firmely -beleeve, that Saint <i>Julian</i> (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 travaile securely, nor come -to a good lodging. No doubt then Sir (quoth the other) but you have -saide that prayer this morning? I would be sorry else, saide <i>Rinaldo</i>, such an -especiall matter is not to be neglected.</p> - -<p>He and the rest, who had already determined how to handle him before -they parted, saide within themselves: Looke thou hast said thy praier, -for when we have thy money, Saint <i>Julian</i> and thou shift for thy lodging. -Afterward, the same man thus againe conferd with him. As you -Sir, so I have ridden many journies, and yet I never used any such praier, -although I have heard it very much commended, and my lodging hath -prooved never the worser. Perhaps this verie night will therein resolve -us both, whether of us two shall be the best lodged; you that have sayde -the prayer, or I that never used it at all. But I must not deny, that in sted -thereof, I have made use of some verses, as <i>Dirupisti</i>, or the <i>Jutemerata</i>, -or <i>Deprofundis</i>, which are (as my Grandmother hath often told mee) of -very great vertue and efficacy.</p> - -<p>Continuing thus in talke of divers things, winning way, and beguiling -the time, still waiting when their purpose should sort to effect: it fortuned, -that the Theeves seeing they were come neere to a Towne, called -<i>Casteau Guillaume</i>, by the foord of a River, the houre somewhat late, the -place solitarie, and thickely shaded with trees, they made their assault; -and having robd him, left him there on foote, stript into his shirt, saying -to him. Goe now and see, whether thy Saint <i>Julian</i> will allow thee this -night a good lodging, or no, for our owne we are sufficiently provided; -so passing the River, away they rode. <i>Rinaldoes</i> servant, seeing his Master -so sharply assayled, like a wicked villaine, would not assist him in any -sort: but giving his horse the spurres, never left gallowping, untill hee -came to <i>Chasteau Guillaume</i>, where hee entred upon the point of night, -providing himselfe of a lodging, but not caring what became of his -Master.</p> - -<p><i>Rinaldo</i> 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 <i>Chasteau Guillaume</i>, 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 arriving there so late, hee found -the gates fast lockt, and the Bridges drawne up, so that no entrance might -be admitted.</p> - -<p>Grieving greatly hereat, and being much discomforted, rufully hee -went spying about the walls, for some place wherein to shrowd himselfe, -at least, to keepe the snow from falling upon him. By good hap, hee -espied an house upon the wall of the Towne, which had a terrace jutting -out as a penthouse, under 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 pensively; -made many sad complaints to Saint <i>Julian</i>, saying: This was not according -to the trust he reposed in her. But Saint <i>Julian</i>, taking compassion -upon him, without any over-long tarying; provided him of a good -lodging, as you shall heare how.</p> - -<p>In this towne of <i>Chasteau Guillaume</i>, lived a young Lady, who was a -widdow, so beautifull and comely of her person, as sildome was seene a -more lovely creature. The Marquesse <i>Azzo</i> most dearely affected her, -and (as his choysest Jewell of delight) gave her that house to live in, under -the terrace whereof poore <i>Rinaldo</i> 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 having 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 urgent occasions called him thence, and hee rode away immediately.</p> - -<p>Much discontented was the Lady at this unexpected accident, and not -knowing now how to spend the time, resolved to use 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 <i>Rinaldo</i> -sate, stoode the Bath, by which meanes, shee being therein, heard all his -quivering moanes, and complaints, seeming to be such, as the Swanne -singing before her death: whereupon, shee called her Chamber-maide, -saying to her. Goe up above, and looke over the terrace on the wall -downe to this doore, and see who is there, and what hee doth. The -Chamber-maide went up 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; <i>Rinaldoes</i> 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 starve there to death with colde.</p> - -<p>The Chamber-maide, being much moved 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 have 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 unto 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 heate -thereof, even 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.</p> - -<p>Attending in further expectation, to know what else the Lady would -commaund him; hee began to remember God and Saint <i>Julian</i>, hartily -thanking her, for delivering 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 respective birth and breeding, well deserving this gracious -favour which you have 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 <i>Rinaldo</i> 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 reverence, -expressing so much thankefulnesse as possibly hee could, for this her extraordinary -grace and favour.</p> - -<p>The Lady fixing a stedfast eye upon him, well liking his gentle language -and behaviour, perceiving also, how fitly her deceased husbands -apparell was formed to his person, and resembling him in all familiar respects, -he appeared (in her judgement) farre beyond the Chambermaides -commendations of him; so praying him to sit downe by her before the -fire, shee questioned with him, concerning this unhappy nights accident -befalne him, wherein he fully resolved her, and shee was the more perswaded, -by reason of his servants comming into the Towne before night, -assuring him, that he should be found for him early in the morning.</p> - -<p>Supper being served in to the Table, and hee seated according as the -Lady commanded, shee began to observe 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 joviall youthfulnesse of his time, and truest temper -for amorous apprehension; all these were as battering engines against a -Bulwarke of no strong resistance, and wrought strangely upon 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 motive 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, and a sound stability in his estate, -but above all (and best of all) the single and sole condition of a batcheler; -an apt and easie steele to strike fire, especially upon such quicke taking -tinder, and in a time favoured by Fortune.</p> - -<p>No imbarment remained, but remembrance of the Marquesse, and -that being summond to her more advised consideration, her youth and -beauty stood up as conscious accusers, for blemishing her honour and -faire repute, with lewd and luxurious life; farre unfit for a Lady of her degree, -and well worthy of generall condemnation. What should I further -say? upon a short conference with her Chambermaide, repentance for -sinne past, and solemne promise of a constant conversion, thus shee delivered -her minde to <i>Rinaldo</i>.</p> - -<p>Sir, as you have 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 living so perfectly in your person; this -house, and all mine, is yours; and of a widow I will become your wife, except -(unmanly) you denie me. <i>Rinaldo</i> hearing these words, and proceeding -from a Lady of such absolute perfections, presuming upon so proud -an offer, and condemning himselfe of folly if he should refuse it, thus replied. -Madam, considering that I stand bound for ever hereafter, to confesse -that you are the gracious preserver 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 service: let me die before -a thought of deniall, or any way to yeeld you the least discontentment.</p> - -<p>Here wanted but a Priest to joyne their hands, as mutuall affection -already had done their hearts, which being sealed with infinite kisses; the -Chamber-maide called up Friar <i>Roger</i> her Confessor, and wedding and -bedding were both effected before the bright morning. In briefe, the -Marquesse having heard of the marriage, did not mislike it, but confirmed -it by great and honourable gifts; and having sent for his dishonest -servant, he dispatched him (after sound reprehension) to <i>Ferrara</i>, with -Letters to <i>Rinaldoes</i> Father and friends, of all the accidents that had befalne -him. Moreover, the very same morning, the three theeves, that -had robbed, and so ill entreated <i>Rinaldo</i>, for another facte by them the -same night committed; were taken, and brought to the Towne of <i>Chasteau -Guillaume</i>, where they were hanged for their offences, and <i>Rinaldo</i> -with his wife rode to <i>Ferrara</i>.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Three_young_Gentlemen_being_brethren_and_having_spent_all_their_Lands_and" id="Three_young_Gentlemen_being_brethren_and_having_spent_all_their_Lands_and"><i>Three young Gentlemen, being brethren, and having 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</i> Englands <i>Daughter, and made him her Husband -in marriage, recompencing all his Uncles losses, and seating them againe -in good estate.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The third Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is declared the dangers of Prodigalitie, and the manifold mutabilities -of Fortune.</i></h4> - - -<p>The fortunes of <i>Rinaldo de Este</i>, being heard by the Ladies and Gentlemen, -they admired his happinesse, and commended his devotion -to Saint <i>Julian</i>, who (in such extreame necessity) sent him so good succour. -Nor was the Lady to be blamed, for leaving base liberty, and converting -to the chaste embraces of the marriage bed, the dignity of womens -honour, and eternall disgrace living otherwise. While thus they -descanted on the happy night betweene her and <i>Rinaldo</i>, Madam <i>Pampinea</i> -sitting next to <i>Philostratus</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>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 observe, 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 judgement) or setled order (at least) that can bee -knowne to us. Now, although these things appeare thus daily to us, -even 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 unprofitable for the -hearers, nor unpleasing in observation.</p> - -<p>Sometime heeretofore, there dwelt in our Citie, a Knight named -Signior <i>Thebaldo</i>, who (according as some report) issued from the Family -of <i>Lamberti</i>, but others derive him of the <i>Agolanti</i>; guiding (perhaps) -their opinion heerein, more from the traine of children, belonging -to the saide <i>Thebaldo</i> (evermore equall to that of the <i>Agolanti</i>) 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 <i>Lamberto</i>, the second <i>Thebaldo</i>, & the third -<i>Agolanto</i>, all goodly and gracefull youths: howbeit, the eldest had not -compleated eighteene yeares, when Signior <i>Thebaldo</i> the father deceased, -who left them all his goods and inheritances. And they, seeing them -selves rich in readie monies and revennewes, without any other government -then their owne voluntary disposition, kept no restraint upon their -expences, but maintained many servants, and store of unvalewable 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.</p> - -<p>Not long had they run on this race, but the treasures lefte them by -their Father, began greatly to diminish; and their revennewes suffised -not, to support such lavish 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 themselves quickly come to nothing, -and then poverty opened their eyes, which prodigality had before closed -up. Heereupon, <i>Lamberto</i> (on a day) calling his Brethren to him, shewed -them what the honours of their Father had beene, to what height his -wealth amounted, and now to what an ebbe of poverty it was falne, onely -thorow their inordinate expences. Wherefore hee counselled them, -(as best he could) before further misery insulted over them; to make sale -of the small remainder that was left, and then to betake themselves unto -some other abiding, where fairer Fortune might chance to shine uppon -them.</p> - -<p>This advice prevailed with them; and so, without taking leave of any -body, or other solemnity then closest secrecy, they departed from <i>Florence</i>, -not tarrying in any place untill they were arrived in <i>England</i>. Comming -to the City of London, and taking there a small house upon yearly -rent, living on so little charge as possible might be, they began to lend -out money at use: wherein Fortune was so favourable 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 <i>Florence</i>: where, with those summes, a great -part of their inheritances were redeemed, and many other bought beside. -Linking themselves in marriage, and yet continuing their usances -in England; they sent a Nephew of theirs thither, named <i>Alessandro</i>, a -yong man, and of faire demeanor, to maintaine their stocke in employment: -while they three remained still at <i>Florence</i>, and growing forgetful -of their former misery, fell againe into as unreasonable expences as ever, -never respecting their houshold charges, because they had good credite -among the Merchants, and the monies still sent from <i>Alessandro</i>, supported -their expences divers yeares.</p> - -<p>The dealings of <i>Alessandro</i> in England grew very great, for hee lent -out much money to many Gentlemen, Lords, and Barons of the Land, -upon engagement of their Manours, Castles, and other revennues: from -whence he derived immeasurable benefite. While the three Brethren -held on in their lavish expences, borrowing moneys when they wanted -untill 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 <i>Alessandro</i>, were sodainely -seized from him, nothing then remaining that returned him any profit. -But living in hope day by day, that peace would be concluded betweene -the Father and the Sonne, he never doubted, but all things then should -be restored to him, both the principall and interest, & therefore he would -not depart out of the Country.</p> - -<p>The three Brethren at <i>Florence</i>, 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 come 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 -Wives and yong children being sent thence, some to one village, some -to another, so that nothing now was to be expected, but poverty & misery -of life forever.</p> - -<p>As for honest <i>Alessandro</i>, who had awaited long time for peace in England, -perceyving there was no likelyhood of it; and considering also, -that (beside his tarrying there in vaine to recover his dues) he was in danger -of his life; without any further deferring, hee set away for <i>Italy</i>. It -came to passe, that as he issued foorth of <i>Bruges</i>, hee saw a yong Abbot -also journeying thence, being cloathed in white, accompanied with divers -Monkes, and a great traine before, conducting the needefull carriage. -Two ancient Knights, Kinsmen to the King, followed after, with -whom <i>Alessandro</i> acquainted himselfe, as having formerly known them, -and was kindly accepted into their company. <i>Alessandro</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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 travaile with him to <i>Rome</i>, 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 use -to do, when they ride upon the High-wayes.</p> - -<p>It chanced on a day, that <i>Alessandro</i> rode somewhat neere to the Abbot, -who stedfastly beholding him, perceived that he was a verie comely -young man, so affable, lovely, and gracious, that even in this first encounter, -he hadde never 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 travelled. <i>Alessandro</i> -imparted freely to him all his affaires, in every thing satisfying his -demands, and offering (although his power was small) to doe him all the -service he could.</p> - -<p>When the Abbot had heard his gentle answers, so wisely & discreetly -delivered, considering also (more particularly) his commendable carriage; -he tooke him to be (at the least) a well-borne Gentleman, and far -differing from his owne logger-headed traine. Wherefore, taking compassion -on his great misfortunes, he comforted him very kindly, wishing -him to live 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 journied -towards <i>Tuscany</i>, as he himselfe did the like, to continue still (if he pleased) -in his company. <i>Alessandro</i> most humbly thanked him for such gracious -comfort; protesting, that he would be alwaies ready, to doe whatsoever -he commanded.</p> - -<p>The Abbot riding on, with newer crochets in his braine, then hee had -before the sight of <i>Alessandro</i>; it fortuned, that after divers dayes of travaile, -they came to a small countrey Village, which affoorded little store -of lodging, and yet the Abbot would needs lye there. <i>Alessandro</i>, being -well acquainted with the Host of the house, willed him, to provide -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 provided for his traine in the Village, -some in one place, and others elsewhere, in the best manner that the -Towne could yeelde. But when the Abbot had supt, a great part of the -night being spent, and every one else at his rest; <i>Alessandro</i> demaunded -of the Host, what provision he had made for him; and how hee should -be lodged that night?</p> - -<p>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: -Neverthelesse, next adjoining 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 serve for one night, insted -of a better. But mine Host (quoth <i>Alessandro</i>) 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 have lodgd his Monkes in -those Corn-lofts, and then both you and I might have slept where now -they do. But feare you not, my Lords Curtaines are close drawne, hee -sleepeth (no doubt) soundly, and I can conveigh you thither quietly enough, -without the least disturbance to him, and a Pallet-bed shal be fitted -there for you. <i>Alessandro</i> perceyving, that all this might bee easilie -done, and no disease offered to the Abbot, accepted it willingly, & went -thither without any noyse at all.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Alessandro</i>, 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 never have the like offer -againe, or ever 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 <i>Alessandro</i>, advising 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 favour.</p> - -<p>The Abbot, laying his arme over the others body, began to imbrace -and hugge him; even as amorous friends (provoked by earnest affection) -use to do. Whereat <i>Alessandro</i> very much marvayling, and being -an <i>Italian</i> himselfe, fearing least this folly in the Abbot, would convert -to foule and dishonest action, shrunk modestly from him. Which the -Abbot perceiving, and doubting, least <i>Alessandro</i> would depart and leave -him, pleasantly smiling, and with bashfull behaviour, baring his stomack, -he tooke <i>Alessandroes</i> hand, and laying it thereon, saide; <i>Alessandro</i>, let all -bad thoughts of bestiall abuse be farre off from thee, and feele here, to resolve -thee from all such feare. <i>Alessandro</i> feeling the Abbots brest, found -there two pretty little mountainets, round, plumpe, and smooth, appearing -as if they had beene of polished Ivory; whereby he perceived, 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.</p> - -<p><i>Alessandro</i>, forbeare such boldnesse, upon thy lives perill, and before -thou further presume to touch me, understand what I shall tell thee. I am -(as thou perceivest) no man, but a woman; and departing a Virgin from -my Fathers House, am travelling 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 ever, I know not; I conceived such -an effectuall kinde of liking towards thee, as never did woman love a -man more truly, then I doe thee, having 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 upon thy lippes concerning what thou hast heard, and -depart hence to thine owne bed againe.</p> - -<p>No doubt, but that these were strange newes to <i>Alessandro</i>, 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 overthrow, and his great -losses in <i>England</i>; wherefore, upon 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 upon the -wall; before which, and calling him to witnesse, that suffered such bitter -and cruell torments on his Crosse, putting a Ring upon 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 Loves acceptation, and so -they journied on till they came to <i>Rome</i>.</p> - -<p>When they had rested themselves there for some few dayes, the supposed -Abbot, with the two Knights, and none else in company but <i>Alessandro</i>, -went before the Pope, and having done him such reverence as beseemed, -the Abbot began to speake in this manner.</p> - -<p>Holy Father (as you know much better then any other) every one -that desireth to live 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 live within the compasse -of a vertuous conversation, may perfect my hopes in this behalfe: -I have fled from my Fathers Court, and am come hither in this habite as -you see, to crave therein your holy and fatherly furtherance. I am daughter -to the King of <i>England</i>, and have sufficiently furnished my selfe with -some of his treasures, that your holinesse may bestow me in marriage; -because mine unkind Father, never regarding my youth and beauty (inferiour -to few in my native Country) would marry me to the King of <i>North-wales</i>, -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 unstained life, lewd and dishonest desires might make -me to wander, by breaking the divine Lawes of wedlocke, and abusing -the royall blood of my Father.</p> - -<p>As I travailed 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 <i>Alessandro</i>) is this young -Gentleman standing by me, whose honest, vertuous, and civill demeanour, -deserveth a Lady of farre greater worth, although (perhaps) nobility -in blood be denied him, and may make him seeme not so excellent, -as one derived from Royall discent. Holy and religious vowes have past -betweene us both, and the Ring on his finger, is the firme pledge of my -faith and constancie; never 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 <i>Alessandro</i> and my selfe, may by you be publiquely -confirmed, and in an open congregation. For, seeing God hath so appointed -it, and our soules have so solemnely vowed it, that no disaster -whatsoever 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 live in Gods feare, and dye in his favour.</p> - -<p>Perswade your selves (faire Ladies) that <i>Alessandro</i> was in no meane -admiration, when hee heard, that his wife was daughter to the King of -<i>England</i>; unspeakeable joy (questionlesse) wholly overcame him: but the -two Knights were not a little troubled and offended, at such a strange -and unexpected accident, yea, so violent were their passions, that had -they beene any where else, then in the Popes presence, <i>Alessandro</i> 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, perceiving there was no resistance -to be made against it, hee yeelded the more willingly to satisfie -her desire. And therefore, having first comforted the two Knights, and -made peace betweene them, the Princesse and <i>Alessandro</i>; he gave order -for the rest that was to be done.</p> - -<p>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 every eye was -highly delighted to behold her, commending her with no mean admiration. -In like manner was <i>Alessandro</i> greatly honoured by the two Knights, -being most sumptuous in appearance, and not like a man that had lent -money to usury, 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 devised, hee gave them his benediction, -and licenced their departure thence.</p> - -<p><i>Alessandro</i>, his Princesse and her traine thus leaving <i>Rome</i>, they would -needes visite <i>Florence</i>, where the newes of this accident was (long before) -noysed, and they received by the Citizens in royall manner. There did -shee deliver the three brethren out of prison, having first payed all their -debts, and reseated them againe (with their wives) in their former inheritances -and possessions. Afterward, departing from <i>Florence</i>, and <i>Agolanto</i>, -one of the Uncles travailing with them to <i>Paris</i>; they were there -also most honourably entertained by the King of <i>France</i>. From whence -the two Knights went before for <i>England</i>, and prevailed so succesfully -with the King; that hee received his daughter into grace and favour, as -also his Sonne in law her husband, to whom hee gave the order of -Knighthoode, and (for his greater dignitie) created him Earle of -<i>Cornewall</i>.</p> - -<p>And such was the noble Spirit of <i>Alessandro</i>, that he pacified the troubles -betweene the King and his sonne, whereon ensued great comfort to -the Kingdome, winning the love and favour of all the people; and <i>Agolanto</i> -(by the meanes of <i>Alessandro</i>) recovered all that was due to him -and his brethren in <i>England</i>, returning richly home to <i>Florence</i>, Counte -<i>Alessandro</i> (his kinsman) having first dubd him Knight. Longtime hee -lived in peace and tranquility, with the faire Princesse his wife, proving -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 -<i>Ireland</i>, and was crowned King thereof.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Landolpho_Ruffolo_falling_into_poverty_became_a_Pirate_on_the_Seas_and" id="Landolpho_Ruffolo_falling_into_poverty_became_a_Pirate_on_the_Seas_and">Landolpho Ruffolo, <i>falling into poverty, became a Pirate on the Seas, and -being taken by the Genewayes, hardly escaped drowning: Which yet (neverthelesse) -he did, upon a little Chest or Coffer, full of very rich Jewels, being -caried thereon to</i> Corfu, <i>where he was well entertained by a good woman; -And afterward, returned richly home to his owne house.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The fourth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Whereby may be discerned, into how many dangers a man may fall, through a -covetous desire to enrich himselfe.</i></h4> - - -<p>Madame <i>Lauretta</i>, sitting next to Madame <i>Pampinea</i>, and seeing how -triumphantly shee had finished her discourse; without attending -any thing else, spake thus. Gracious Ladies, wee shall never behold (in -mine opinion) a greater act of Fortune, then to see a man so suddainly exalted, -even from the lowest depth of poverty, to a Royall estate of dignity; -as the discourse of Madame <i>Pampinea</i> hath made good, by the happy -advancement of <i>Alessandro</i>. And because it appeareth necessary, that -whosoever discourseth on the subject 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 howsoever that fault shall be -found in you, I meane to discharge mine owne duty.</p> - -<p>Opinion hath made it famous for long time, that the Sea-coast of <i>Rhegium</i> -to <i>Gaieta</i>, is the onely delectable part of all <i>Italy</i>, wherein, somewhat -neere to <i>Salerno</i>, is a shore looking upon the Sea, which the inhabitants -there dwelling, doe call the coast of <i>Malfy</i>, 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 <i>Ravello</i>, wherein (as yet to this day there are rich people) -there was (not long since) a very wealthy man, named <i>Landolpho Ruffolo</i>, -who being not contented with his riches, but coveting to multiply them -double and trebble, fell in danger, to loose both himselfe and wealth together.</p> - -<p>This man (as other Merchants are wont to doe) after hee had considered -on his affaires, bought him a very goodly Ship, lading it with divers -sorts of Merchandizes, all belonging to himselfe onely, and making -his voyage to the Isle of <i>Cyprus</i>. Where he found, over and beside the -Merchandizes he had brought thither, many Ships more there arrived, -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 utter destruction and -overthrow. Whereupon, grieving exceedingly at so great a losse, not -knowing what to doe, and seeing, that from very aboundant wealth, hee -was likely to fall into as low poverty: hee resolved to dye, or to recompence -his losses upon others, because he would not returne home poore, -having departed thence so rich.</p> - -<p>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 use of a Pirate, -arming and furnishing it in ample manner, for roving and robbing -upon 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 favourable to him, that hee could never 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 recovered, -not onely of all his losses by Merchandize, but likewise his wealth was -wholly redoubled. Finding his losses to be very liberally requited, and -having 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 covet after more: he fully concluded, now to returne home -to his owne house againe, and live upon his goods thus gotten.</p> - -<p>Continuing still in feare, of the losses he had sustained by traffique, & -minding, never 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 over-taking them, and a mighty -winde suddainly comming upon them: it not onely was contrary to -their course, but held on with such impetuous violence; that the small -vessell, being unable to endure it, made to land-ward speedily, and in expectation -of a more friendly wind, entred a little port of the Sea, directing -up into a small Island, and there safely sheltred it selfe. Into the same port -which <i>Landolpho</i> had thus taken for his refuge, entred (soone after) two -great Carrackes of <i>Genewayes</i> lately come from <i>Constantinople</i>. When -the men in them had espied the small Barke, and lockt uppe her passage -from getting foorth; understanding the Owners name, and that report -had famed him to be very rich, they determined (as men evermore addicted -naturally, to covet after money and spoile) to make it their owne as -a prize at Sea.</p> - -<p>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 over-boord, without sparing any but -<i>Landolpho</i> himselfe, whom they mounted into one of the Carrackes, leaving -him nothing but a poore shirt of Maile on his backe, and having -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 againe, -having a prosperous passage all the day long; but uppon 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 <i>Landolpho</i> (beneath the -Isle of <i>Cephalonia</i>) ran against a rocke, and even 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.</p> - -<p>Now, notwithstanding the nights obscurity, and impetuous violence -of the billowes; such as could swimme, made shift to save their lives by -swimming. Others caught hold on such things, as by Fortunes favour -floated neerest to them, among whom, distressed <i>Landolpho</i>, desirous to -save 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 poverty; yet, seeing how other -men strove for safety of their lives by any helpe, were it never so little, he -tooke advantage of this favour offred him, and the rather in a necessitie so -urgent. Keeping fast upon the Coffer so well as he could, and being driven -by the winds & waves, one while this way, and anon quite contrarie, -he made shift for himselfe till day appeared; when looking every way about -him, seeing nothing but clouds, the seas and the Coffer, which one -while shrunke from under him, and another while supported him, according -as the windes and billowes carried it: all that day and night thus he -floated up and downe, drinking more then willingly hee would, but almost -hunger-starved thorow want of foode. The next morning, either -by the appointment of heaven, or power of the Windes, <i>Landolpho</i> -who was (well-neere) become a Spundge, holding his armes strongly -about the Chest, as wee have seene some doe, who (dreading drowning) take -hold on any the very smallest helpe; drew neere unto the shore of the Iland -<i>Corfu</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>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 service; but even as the waves and windes pleased, the -Chest was driven still neerer to the Land, and then the woman perceived -that it had the forme of a Cofer, and looking more advisedly, beheld two -armes extended over it, and afterward, shee espied the face of a man, not -being able to judge, whether he were alive, or no. Moved 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 -unfolded his armes from the Chest, setting it up on her Daughters head, -and then betweene them, <i>Landolpho</i> was led into the Towne, and there -conveyed into a warme Stove, where quickly he recovered (by her pains) -his strength benummed with extreame cold.</p> - -<p>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 upon the waves, -and (next under God) had saved 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. Neverthelesse, 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. -Having 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 deliverance from -danger.</p> - -<p>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 up the Jewels in very unsightly -cloutes, that no suspition at all should be conceived of them, hee -saide to the good woman, that the Chest would not doe him any further -service; but if shee pleased to lende him a small sacke or bagge, shee -might keepe the Cofer, for in her house it would divers way stead her. -The woman gladly did as he desired, and <i>Landolpho</i> returning her infinite -thankes, for the loving kindnesse shee had affoorded him, throwing the -sacke on his necke, passed by a Barke to <i>Brundusiam</i>, and from thence to -<i>Tranium</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>Being come home in safety to <i>Ravello</i>, hee fell on his knees, and thanked -God for all his mercies towards him. Then opening the sacke, and -viewing the Jewels 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 having vented them all, he sent a great sum of money -to the good woman at <i>Corfu</i>, that had rescued him out of the Sea, -and saved his life in a danger so dreadfull: The like hee did to <i>Tranium</i>, -to the Merchants that had newly cloathed him; living richly upon the -remainder, and never adventuring more to the Sea, but ended his dayes -in wealth and honour.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Andrea_de_Piero_travelling_from_Perouse_to_Naples_to_buy_Horses_was_in" id="Andrea_de_Piero_travelling_from_Perouse_to_Naples_to_buy_Horses_was_in">Andrea de Piero, <i>travelling from</i> Perouse <i>to</i> Naples <i>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.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The fift Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Comprehending, how needfull a thing it is, for a man that travelleth in affaires -of the World, to be provident and well advised, and carefully to keepe himselfe -from the crafty and deceitfull allurements of Strumpets.</i></h4> - - -<p>The precious Stones and Jewels found by <i>Landolpho</i>, maketh mee to -remember (said Madam <i>Fiammetta</i>, who was next to deliver her discourse) -a Tale, containing no lesse perils, then that reported by Madam -<i>Lauretta</i>: 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 unto you.</p> - -<p>As I have heard reported by many, there sometime lived in <i>Perouse</i> or -<i>Perugia</i>, a young man, named <i>Andrea de Piero</i>, 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 <i>Naples</i>, did -put five hundred Crownes of gold in his purse, and journeyed thither in -the company of other Horse-coursers, arriving there on a Sunday in the -evening. According to instructions given him by his Host, he went the -next day into the Horse-market, where he saw very many Horses that he -liked, cheapening their prices as he went up and downe, but could fall to -no agreement; yet to manifest that he came purposely to buy, and not as -a cheapener onely, often times (like a shalow-brainde trader in the world) -he shewed his purse of gold before all passengers, never respecting who, -or what they were that observed his follie.</p> - -<p>It came to passe, that a young <i>Sicillian</i> wench (very beautifull, but at -commaund of whosoever would, and for small hire) passing then by, and -(without his perceiving) 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 <i>Sicillian</i> -also, who so soone as shee saw <i>Andrea</i>, knew him, and, leaving her -youthfull commodity, ranne to him, and embraced him very kindly. -Which when the younger Lasse perceived, without proceeding any -further, she stayed, to see what would ensue thereon. <i>Andrea</i> 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 <i>Cammerado</i>; and <i>Andrea</i> -went about buying his horses, still cheapning good store, but did not -buy any all that morning.</p> - -<p>The Punke that had taken notice of <i>Andreaes</i> purse, upon the olde womans -comming backe to her (having 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 have done: That shee had long time dwelt in -<i>Sicily</i> with his Father, and afterward at <i>Perouse</i>; recounting also, at what -time she came thence, and the cause which now had drawne him to <i>Naples</i>. -The witty young housewife, being thorowly instructed, concerning -the Parents and kindred of <i>Andrea</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Andrea</i> according to promise, -purposing, not to trust her in this serious piece of service. Calling a young -crafty Girle to her, whom she had well tutoured in the like ambassages, -when evening drew on, she sent her to <i>Andreas</i> 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 <i>Signior -Andrea de Piero</i>; 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 favour.</p> - -<p><i>Andrea</i>, 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 (undoubtedly) that he -was an hansome proper man, and of such carriage and perfections, as had -attracted the amorous eye of this Gentlewoman, and induced her to like -and love him beyond all other, <i>Naples</i> 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.</p> - -<p>Instantly <i>Andrea</i> (without leaving 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 <i>Malpertuis</i>, -a title manifesting sufficiently the streetes honesty: but hee, having 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 up a faire -payre of stayres, which he having more then halfe ascended, the cunning -young Queane gave a call to her Mistresse, saying; <i>Signior Andrea</i> 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 <i>Andrea</i> well observing, -& 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, even -as if she were unable to utter one word, seeming hindered by extremity -of joy at his presence, and to make him effectually admire her extraordinary -kindnesse, having teares plenteously at commaund, intermixed with -sighes and broken speeches, at last, thus she spake.</p> - -<p><i>Signior Andrea</i>, 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 novice 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.</p> - -<p>I am sure <i>Andrea</i>, that you greatly marvell 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 never heard any Speeches of me: but you shall instantly receive -from mee matter to augment your greater marvell, meeting heere -with your owne sister, beyond all hope or expectation in either of us -both. But seeing that Heaven hath beene so gracious to me, to let mee -see one of my brethren before I die (though gladly I would have seene -them all) which is some addition of comfort to me, and that which (happily) -thou hast never heard before, in plaine and truest manner, I will reveale -unto thee.</p> - -<p><i>Piero</i>, my Father and thine, dwelt long time (as thou canst not chuse -but to have understood) in <i>Palermo</i>, 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 loving friends and -well-willers. Among them that most intimately affected <i>Piero</i>, my mother -(who was a Gentlewoman, and at that time a widow) did dearest of -all other love him; so that forgetting the feare of her Father, brethren, -yea, and her owne honour, they became so privately acquainted, that I -was begotten, and am here now such as thou seest me. Afterward, occasions -so befalling our Father, to abandon <i>Palermo</i>, and returne to <i>Perouse</i>, -he left my mother and me his little daughter, never after (for ought -that I could learne) once remembring either her or me: so that (if he had -not beene my Father) I could have much condemned him, in regard of -his ingratitude to my Mother, and love which hee ought to have 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 (moved 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.</p> - -<p>Being left so young at <i>Palermo</i>, and growing (well neere) to the stature -as now you see me; my mother, being wealthy, gave mee in marriage to -one of the <i>Gergentes</i> Family, a Gentleman, and of great revenewes, who -in his love to me and my mother, went and dwelt at <i>Palermo</i>: where falling -into the <i>Guelphes</i> faction, and making one in the enterprize with -<i>Charles</i> our King; it came to passe, that they were discovered to <i>Fredericke</i> -King of <i>Arragon</i>, before their intent could be put in execution, -whereupon, we were enforced to flie from <i>Sicilie</i>, even when my hope -stood fairely to have beene the greatest Lady in all the Iland. Packing -up then such few things as wee could take with us, 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 <i>Charles</i> so benigne and gracious to -us, that recompencing the greater part of our losses, he bestowed Lands -and Houses on us 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 <i>Andrea</i>, 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.</p> - -<p><i>Andrea</i> hearing this fable so artificially delivered, composed from -point to point, with such likely protestations, without faltring or failing -in any one words utterance; and remembring perfectly for truth, that his -Father had formerly dwelt at <i>Palermo</i>; 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 upon her silence, -thus he replied. Lady, let it not seeme strange to you, that your words -have raised marvell in me, because (indeede) I had no knowledge of you, -even no more then as if I had never seene you, never also having heard -my Father to speake either of you or your Mother (for some considerations -best knowne to himselfe) or if at any time he used such language, either -my youth then, or defective memory since, hath utterly lost it. But -truly, it is no little joy 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 -soever, but you may well beseeme his acceptance, much rather then -mine, that am but a meane Merchant. But faire sister, I desire to be resolved -in one thing, to wit, by what meanes you had understanding of my -being in this City? whereto readily shee returned him this answer.</p> - -<p>Brother, a poore woman of this City, whom I employ sometimes in -houshold occasions, came to me this morning, and (having seene you) -tolde me, that shee dwelt a long while with our Father, both at <i>Palermo</i>, -and <i>Perouse</i>. And because I held it much better beseeming my condition, -to have 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 <i>Andrea</i> still made her answer, confirming -thereby his beliefe of her the more strongly, and crediting whatsoever -shee saide, farre better then before.</p> - -<p>Their conference having long time continued, and the heate of the -day being somewhat extraordinary, shee called for <i>Greeke</i> wine, and banquetting -stuffe, drinking to <i>Andrea</i>; and he pledging her very contentedly. -After which, he would have 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 perceive brother, -how little account you make of me, considering, you are with your owne -Sister, who (you say) you never 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. Beleeve 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.</p> - -<p>Now was <i>Andrea</i> so confounded with this extremity of courtesie, that -he knew not what to say, but onely thus replied. I love you as a Sister -ought to be loved, 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 untill I come. For that (quoth shee) -we have a present remedy, one of my servants shal goe and give warning, -whereby they shall not tarry your comming. Albeit, you might doe me a -great kindnesse, to send for your friends to sup with us 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. <i>Andrea</i> answered, -that he had no such friends there, as should be so burthenous to -her: but seeing shee urged him so farre, he would stay to sup with her, and -referred himselfe solely to her disposition.</p> - -<p>Ceremonious shew was made, of sending a servant to the Inne, for -not expecting <i>Andreas</i> presence at Supper, though no such matter was -performed; but, after divers other discoursings, the table being covered, -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. <i>Andrea</i> then offring to take -his leave, she would (by no meanes) suffer it, but tolde him that <i>Naples</i> -was a Citie of such strict Lawes and Ordinances, as admitted no night-walkers, -although they were Natives, much lesse strangers, but punished -them with great severity. 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 give her Brother <i>Andrea</i> -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 <i>Fiordeliza</i> (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.</p> - -<p>After supper, their conference lasted very long, purposely dilated out -in length, that a great part of the night might therein be wasted: when, -leaving <i>Andrea</i> 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, <i>Andrea</i> put off his hose and doublet, and beeing in his -shirt alone, layed them underneath the beds boulster, as seeming carefull -of his money. But finding a provocation 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 upon a board, which was fastened -at neither ende to the joynts 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 receive no harme in the -fall (although it was of extraordinary height) onely the filth of the place, -(it being over full) had fowly myred him.</p> - -<p>Now for your better understanding the quality of the place, and what -ensued thereupon, it is not unnecessary to describe it, according to a common -use observed in those parts. There was a narrow passage or entrie, -as often we see reserved betweene two houses, for eithers benefit to such -a needfull place; and boards loosely lay upon the joynts, which such as -were acquainted withall, could easily avoide any perill, in passing to or -from the stoole. But our so newly created brother, not dreaming to find -a queane to his Sister, receiving 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, who intended not to give 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 -under the beds head, shee needed no instruction for search in his pockets. -But having found the gold, which <i>Andrea</i> 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 -<i>Palermo</i>, and Daughter to <i>Piero</i> of <i>Perouse</i>, so that not regarding him any -longer, but making fast the house of Office doore, there shee left him in -that miserable taking.</p> - -<p>Poore <i>Andrea</i> perceiving, 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 understanding his error, though somewhat too late, hee -made such meanes constrainedly, that he got over a wall, which severed -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 have I lost a Sister, and five hundred -Crownes besides? with many other words, loude calles, and beatings upon -the doore without intermission, the neighbours finding themselves -diseased, and unable 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 <i>Andrea</i>) know you not me? I am <i>Andrea -de Piero</i>, Brother to your Mistresse <i>Fiordeliza</i>. Thou art a drunken knave, -replied the Maide, more full of drinke then wit, goe sleepe, goe sleepe, -and come againe to morrow: for I know no <i>Andrea de Piero</i>, neither hath -my Mistresse any such Brother, get thee gone good man, and suffer us to -sleepe I pray thee. How now (quoth <i>Andrea</i>) doest thou not understand -what I say? Thou knowest that I supt with thy Mistresse this night; but if -our <i>Sicilian</i> kindred be so soone forgot, I pray thee give 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.</p> - -<p>Now could <i>Andrea</i> assure himselfe, that his gold and cloathes were -past recovery, which moving him to the more impatience, his former -intercessions became converted into fury, and what hee could not compasse -by faire entreats, he entended to winne by outrage and violence, so -that taking up a great stone in his hand, hee layed upon 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 used 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 reprove him, -even 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 unseasonable time of the night. For -Gods sake (good man) be gone, and let us sleepe; if thou have 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.</p> - -<p><i>Andrea</i> 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 <i>Andrea</i>, 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? <i>Andrea</i> fearefully looking up, 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 received in no honest quarels, yawning also and stretching, as -angry to have 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 never better beaten in all thy life, like a drunken slave -and beast as thou art, that all this night wilt not let us sleepe; and so hee -clapt to the window againe.</p> - -<p>The neighbours, well acquainted with this Ruffians rude conditions, -speaking in gentle manner to <i>Andrea</i>, 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 <i>Andrea</i>, but much more the stearne oathes -and ugly sight of the Ruffian, incited also by the neighbours counsell, -whom he imagined to advise 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 offensive to himselfe: that, desiring to wash him -at the Sea side, he strayed too farre wide on the contrary hand, wandring -up the streete called <i>Ruga Gatellana</i>.</p> - -<p>Proceeding on still, even 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 stept 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 <i>Andreaes</i> being there, one of -them layd downe divers 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 ever I felt in all my life. So, lifting up his Lanthorne, he espied poore -pittifull <i>Andrea</i>, closely couched behinde the wall. Which sight somewhat -affrighting him, he yet boldly demaunded, what and who hee was: -whereto <i>Andrea</i> 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.</p> - -<p>Constraint having now no other evasion, but that (of necessity) all -must out: hee related to them the whole adventure, 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 <i>Scarabone -Buttafuoco</i>; And then turning to <i>Andrea</i>, 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, beleeve 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 againe the least doyt of thy losse. And for that shag-haird -Slave in the house, he will be thy deaths-man, if he but understand, 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, wherefore, if thou wilt friendly -associate us, 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 <i>Andrea</i>, hee perswaded -himselfe, worse then had already happened, could not befall him; -and therefore he would gladly adventure with them.</p> - -<p>The selfe same day preceding this disastrous night to <i>Andrea</i>, in the -chiefe Church of the Citie, had beene buried the Archbishop of <i>Naples</i>, -named <i>Signior Philippo Minutolo</i>, in his richest pontificall roabes and ornaments, -and a Ruby on his finger, valued to be worth five hundred duckets -of gold: this dead body they purposed to rob and rifle, acquainting -<i>Andrea</i> with their whole intent, whose necessity (coupled with a covetous -desire) made him more forward then well advised, to joyne with -them in this sacriligious enterprise. On they went towards the great -Church, <i>Andreaes</i> unsavourie perfume much displeasing them, whereupon -the one said to his fellow. Can we devise no ease for this foule and -noysome inconvenience? the very smell of him will be a meanes to betray -us. 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 up againe, which accordingly -they forth-with performed.</p> - -<p>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, perceiving the Watch -so neere upon them: left <i>Andrea</i> in the Pit to shift for himselfe, running -away to shelter themselves. Their flight was not discovered by the -Watch, but they comming to the Well-pit, <i>Andrea</i> remained still in -the bottome, and having cleansed himselfe so well as hee could, sate -wagging the rope, expecting when hee should be haled up. 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 up -the rope, thinking the Bucket was fastened thereto, and full of water. -<i>Andrea</i> being haled up 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 up a Spirit; not daring to speake one word, ranne away with all the -hast they could make.</p> - -<p><i>Andrea</i> hereat was not a little amazed, so that if he had not taken very -good hold on the brim: he might have 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 mervaile 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 <i>Andrea</i> could not resolve 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 up, for feare of whom they left him, and so declared to him the reason -of their returne.</p> - -<p>Leaving 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 cover-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 <i>Andrea</i>. Which when the other two heard, they caught fast hold -of him, saying. Wilt not thou goe into the Tombe? Be advised what thou -sayest, for, if thou wilt not goe in: we will so beat thee with one of these -yron crowes, that thou shalt never goe out of this Church alive.</p> - -<p>Thus poore <i>Andrea</i> is still made a property, and Fortune (this fatall -night) will have no other foole but he, as delighting in his hourly disasters. -Feare of their fury makes him obedient, into the grave he goes, and being -within, thus consults with himselfe. These cunning companions suppose -me to be simple, & make me enter the Tombe, having an absolute intention -to deceive me. For, when I have given 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 leaving me here, not onely shall I loose -my right among them, but must remaine to what danger may follow -after. Having thus meditated, he resolved 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, -Gloves and all, leaving him nothing but his shirt, giving them -all these severall parcels; protesting, that there was nothing else. Still they -pressed upon him, affirming that there was a Ring beside, urging 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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Andrea</i> mewed up in the grave. Which -when he perceived, 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 utmost strength he employeth, to remove -that over-heavy hinderer of his liberty: but all his labour beeing -spent in vaine, sorrow threw him in a swoond upon the Byshoppes dead -body, where if both of them might at that instant have bene observed, the -Arch-byshops dead body, and <i>Andrea</i> 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 unavoydable extremities. Dye starving must he in the tombe, with -putrifaction of the dead body; or if any man came to open the Grave, -then must he be apprehended as a sacrilegious Theefe, and so be hanged, -according to the lawes in that case provided.</p> - -<p>As he continued in these strange afflictions of minde, sodainely hee -heard a noise in the Church of divers men, who (as he imagined) came -about the like businesse, as hee and his fellowes had undertaken before; -wherein he was not a jot deceived, albeit his feare the more augmented. -Having opened the Tombe, and supported the stone, they varied also among -themselves 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-liver'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. Having 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.</p> - -<p><i>Andrea</i> sitting upright in the Tombe, and desiring to make use 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 divels. <i>Andrea</i> little -dreaming on such fortunate successe, made meanes to get out of the -grave, and afterward forth of the Church, at the very same place where he -entred.</p> - -<p>Now began day-light to appeare, when hee, having the rich Ring on -his finger, wandred on hee knew not whether: till comming to the Sea-side, -he found the way directing to his Inne, where all his company were -with his Host, who had bene very carefull for him. Having related his -manifold mischances, his Hoste friendly advised him with speede to get -him out of <i>Naples</i>. As instantly he did, returning home to <i>Perouse</i>, having -adventured his five hundred Crownes on a Ring, where-with hee -purposed to have bought Horses, according to the intent of his journey -thither.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Madame_Beritola_Caracalla_was_found_in_an_Island_with_two_Goates_having" id="Madame_Beritola_Caracalla_was_found_in_an_Island_with_two_Goates_having"><i>Madame Beritola Caracalla, was found in an Island with two Goates, having -lost her two Sonnes, and thence travailed into Lunigiana: where one of her -Sonnes became servant to the Lord thereof, and was found somewhat over-familiar -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.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The sixt Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Heerein all men are admonished, never to distrust the powerfull hand of Heaven, -when Fortune seemeth to be most adverse against them.</i></h4> - - -<p>The Ladies and Gentlemen also, having smiled sufficiently at the severall -accidents which did befall the poore Traveller <i>Andrea</i>, reported -at large by Madame <i>Fiammetta</i>, the Lady <i>Æmillia</i>, seeing her tale to be -fully concluded, began (by commandement of the Queene) to speake in -this manner.</p> - -<p>The diversitie of changes and alterations in Fortune as they are great, -so must they needs be greevous; and as often as we take occasion to talk -of them, as often do they awake and quicken our understandings, avouching, -that it is no easie matter to depend upon her flatteries. And I am -of opinion, that to heare them recounted, ought not any way to offend -us, be it of men wretched or fortunate; because, as they enstruct the one -with good advise, so they animate the other with comfort. And therefore, -although great occasions have 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 beleeve, that ever any sorrow was more joyfully -sweetened.</p> - -<p>You must understand then (most gracious Ladies) that after the death -of <i>Fredericke</i> the second Emperour, one named <i>Manfred</i>, was crowned -King of <i>Sicilie</i>, about whom lived in great account and authority, a <i>Neapolitane</i> -Gentleman, called <i>Henriet Capece</i>, who had to Wife a beautifull -Gentlewoman, and a <i>Neapolitane</i> also, named Madam <i>Beritola Caracalla</i>. -This <i>Henriet</i> held the government of the Kingdome of <i>Sicilie</i>, and understanding, -that King <i>Charles</i> the first, had wonne the battle of <i>Beneventum</i>, -and slaine King <i>Manfred</i>; the whole Kingdome revolting also to his devotion, -and little trust to be reposed in the <i>Sicillians</i>, or he willing to subject -himselfe to his Lords enemy; provided for his secret flight from -thence. But this being discovered to the <i>Sicillians</i>, he and many more, -who had beene loyall servants to King <i>Manfred</i>, were suddenly taken and -imprisoned by King <i>Charles</i>, and the sole possession of the Iland confirmed -to him.</p> - -<p>Madam <i>Beritola</i> not knowing (in so sudden and strange an alteration -of State affaires) what was become of her Husband, fearing also greatly -before, those inconveniences which afterward followed; being overcome -with many passionate considerations, having left and forsaken all -her goods, going aboard a small Barke with a Sonne of hers, aged about -some eight yeeres, named <i>Geoffrey</i>, and growne great with childe with another; -shee fled thence to <i>Lipary</i>, where shee was brought to bed of another -Sonne, whom shee named (answerable both to his and her hard fortune) -<i>The poore expelled</i>.</p> - -<p>Having provided her selfe of a Nurse, they altogether went aboard againe, -setting sayle for <i>Naples</i> to visit her Parents; but it chanced quite -contrary to her expectation, because by stormie windes and weather, the -vessell being bound for <i>Naples</i>, was hurried to the Ile of <i>Ponzo</i>, where entring -into a small Port of the Sea, they concluded to make their aboade, -till a time more furtherous should favour their voyage.</p> - -<p>As the rest, so did Madam <i>Beritola</i> goe on shore in the Iland, where having -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, -unseene by any of the Marriners, or whosoever else: there arrived -suddenly a Galley of Pyrates, who seazing on the small Barke, carried it -and all the rest in it away with them. When <i>Beritola</i> 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 perceyved, 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 uppon the -shore.</p> - -<p>Now was not any body neere, with coole water or any other remedy, -to helpe the recovery 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 Caves, Dennes, and every 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 respective of her selfe, & therefore -departing from the sea-shore, she returned to the solitary place, where -she used to sigh and mourne alone by her selfe.</p> - -<p>The night being over-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 travailes. 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 -hearbes so well as she could, not without many piercing afflictions, what -should become of her in this extraordinary misery. As shee walked in -these pensive meditations, she saw a Goate enter into a Cave, 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.</p> - -<p>As yet she had milke freshly running in both her brests, by reason of -her so late delivery in child-bed; wherefore shee lay downe unto 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 -lovingly as their dammes, and from that time forward, they made no distinguishing -betweene their damme and her. Thus this unfortunate Lady, -having 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 manner. Here shee resolved now to live and dye, being at -last deprived both of the damme and yonger Kids also, by theyr wandering -further into the neere adjoining Woods, according to their Naturall -inclinations; whereby the poore distressed Lady became more savage -and wilde in her daily conditions, then otherwise shee would have -bene.</p> - -<p>After many monthes were over-passed, at the very same place where -she tooke landing; by chance, there arrived another small vessell of certaine -<i>Pisans</i>, which remained there divers dayes. In this Bark was a Gentleman, -named <i>Conrado de Marchesi Malespini</i>, with his holy and vertuous -wife, who were returned backe from a Pilgrimage, having visited all the -sanctified places, that then were in the Kingdome of <i>Apulia</i>, & now were -bound homeward to their owne abiding. This Gentleman, for the expelling -of melancholy perturbations, one especiall day amongst other, -with his wife, servants, and waiting hounds, wandered up into the Iland, -not far from the place of Madam <i>Beritolaes</i> 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 -themselves thus pursued by the hounds, fled to no other part of the -wood, then to the Cave where <i>Beritola</i> remained, and seeming as if they -sought to be rescued only by her, she sodainly caught up a staffe, and forced -the hounds thence to flight.</p> - -<p>By this time, <i>Conrado</i> 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 (upon -her request) <i>Conrado</i> had checkt back his hounds, they prevailed so much -by earnest intreaties, to know what she was, and the reason of her living -there; that she intirely related her quality, unfortunate accidents, and -strange determination for living 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 ever she had done before.</p> - -<p>When these gentle offers could not prevaile 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 wives, not doubting but to winne her thence with -them. His wife abode there with <i>Beritola</i>, 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 <i>Lunigiana</i>, carrying also with -her the two yong Goats and their damme, which were then in the Cave -altogether, prettily playing before <i>Beritola</i>, to the great admiration of -<i>Conrado</i> and his wife, as also the servants attending on them.</p> - -<p>When the windes and weather grew favourable for them, Madam -<i>Beritola</i> went aboard with <i>Conrado</i> and his wife, being followed by the -two young Goates and their Damme; and because her name should bee -knowne to none but <i>Conrado</i>, 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 River of <i>Macra</i>, where going on shore, and -into their owne Castell, <i>Beritola</i> kept company with the wife of <i>Conrado</i>, -but in a mourning habite, and a wayting Gentlewoman of hers, honest, -humble, and very dutifull, the Goates alwayes familiarly keeping them -company.</p> - -<p>Returne wee now to the Pyrates, which at <i>Ponzo</i> seized on the small -Barke, wherein Madam <i>Beritola</i> 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 <i>Geneway</i>, and there (by -consent of the Patrones of the Galley) made a division of their booties. -It came to passe, that (among other things) the Nurse that attended on -<i>Beritola</i>, and the two Children with her, fell to the share of one <i>Messer -Gasparino d'Oria</i>, who sent them together to his owne House, there to be -employed in service as servants. 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 utterly fruitlesse and to none effect, though -she was used as a servant with them, and being but a very poore woman, -yet was shee wise and discreetly advised. 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 advantaged -thereby.</p> - -<p>Hereupon, hoping that Fortune (early or late) would alter her stearne -malice, and that they might (if they lived) regaine once more their former -condition: shee would not disclose them to any one whatsoever, 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, naming the eldest not <i>Geoffrey</i>, but <i>Jehannot de Procida</i>. [Or Grannotto da Prochyta.] As for the youngest, shee cared not greatly for changing his name, -and therefore wisely enformed <i>Geoffrey</i>, upon what reason shee had altered -his name, and what danger he might fall into, if he should otherwise -be discovered; 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 observe.</p> - -<p>The two young Laddes, very poorely garmented, but much worse -hosed and shodde, continued thus in the house of <i>Gasparino</i>, where both -they and the Nurse were long time imployed, about very base and drudging -Offices, which yet they endured with admirable patience. But <i>Jehannot</i>, -aged already about sixteene yeeres, having a loftier spirit, then -belonged to a slavish servant, despising the basenesse of his servile condition; -departed from the drudgery of <i>Messer Gasparino</i>, and going aboard -the Gallies, which were bound for <i>Alexandria</i>, fortuned into many places, -yet none of them affoording him any advancement. In the ende, about -three or foure yeares after his departure from <i>Gasparino</i>, being now -a brave young man, and of very goodly forme: he understood, that his Father -(whom he supposed to be dead) was as yet living; but in captivity, -and prisoner to King <i>Charles</i>. Wherefore, despairing of any successefull -fortune, hee wandred here and there, till he came to <i>Lunigiana</i>, and -there (by strange accident) he became servant to <i>Messer Conrado Malespina</i>, -where the service proved well liking to them both.</p> - -<p>Very sildome times hee had a sight of his Mother, because shee alwayes -kept company with <i>Conradoes</i> 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. <i>Jehannot</i> being thus in the service of <i>Messer Conrado</i>, it -fortuned that a daughter of his, named <i>Spina</i>, being the Widdow of one -<i>Messer Nicolas Grignan</i>, returned home to her Fathers House. Very beautifull -and amiable shee was, young likewise, aged but little above sixteene; -growing wonderously amorous of <i>Jehannot</i>, and he of her, in extraordinary -and most fervent manner; which love was not long without full effect, -continuing many moneths before any person could perceive 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 providently managed.</p> - -<p>Upon a day, he and shee walking to a goodly wood, plentifully furnished -with spreading Trees, having 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 over-short -to them, yet was it so unadvisedly prolonged; that they were on a sudden -surprized, first by the Mother, and next by <i>Messer Conrado</i> himselfe: who -greeving beyond measure, to be thus trecherously dealt withall, caused -them to be apprehended by three of his servants, 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.</p> - -<p>The Mother to this regardlesse Daughter, having heard the angry -words of her Husband, and how hee would be revenged on the faultie; -could not endure that he should be so severe: 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, and 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 servant. 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 used such plenty of mooving 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 uneasiest, untill hee should -otherwise determine of them, and so it was done. What their life now -was in captivity and continuall teares, with stricter abstinence then was -needefull for them; all this I must commit to your consideration.</p> - -<p><i>Jehannot</i> and <i>Spina</i> remaining in this comfortlesse condition, and an -whole yeere being now out-worne, yet <i>Conrado</i> keeping them thus still -imprisoned: it came to passe, that <i>Don Pedro</i> King of <i>Arragon</i>, by the -meanes of <i>Messer John de Procida</i>, caused the Isle of <i>Sicily</i> to revolt, and -tooke it away from King <i>Charles</i>, whereat <i>Conrado</i> (he being of the <i>Ghibbiline</i> -faction) not a little rejoyced. <i>Jehannot</i> having intelligence thereof, -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 -have already gone begging through the world above 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 never 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 -<i>Sicily</i>?</p> - -<p>Once more <i>Jehannot</i> sighed extreamly, and returned him this answer. -Me thinkes my heart (quoth hee) doth cleave 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 -Governour there, at such time as King <i>Manfred</i> lived. The Guard, pursuing -on still his purpose, demanded of him, what, and who his Father -was? My Father (replyed <i>Jehannot</i>) I may now securely speake of him, -being out of the perill which neerely concerned me if I had beene discovered. -He was the named (and so still if he be living) <i>Henriet Capece</i>, and -my name is <i>Geoffrey</i>, not <i>Jehannot</i>; and I make no doubt, but if I were -free from hence, and might be returned home to <i>Sicily</i>, I should (for his -sake) be placed in some authority.</p> - -<p>The honest man of the Guard, without seeking after any further information; -so soone as he could compasse the leysure, reported all to <i>Messer -Conrado</i>, who having heard these newes (albeit he made no shew thereof -to the revealer) went to Madam <i>Beritola</i>, graciously demaunding of -her, if she had any sonne by her husband, who was called <i>Geoffrey</i>. The -Lady replyed in teares, that if her eldest sonne were as yet living, hee was -so named, and now aged about two and twenty yeares. <i>Conrado</i> hearing -this, imagined this same to be the man, considering further withall, that -if it fell out to prove so: he might have the better meanes of mercie, and -closely concealing his daughters shame, joyfully joyne them in marriage -together.</p> - -<p>Hereupon he secretly caused <i>Jehannot</i> to be brought before him, examining -him particularly of all his passed life, and finding (by most manifest -arguments) that his name was truly <i>Geoffrey</i>, & he the eldest son of <i>Henriet -Capece</i>, he spake to him alone in this manner. <i>Jehannot</i>, thou knowest how -great the injuries are which thou hast done me, & my deare daughter, gently -entreating thee (as became a good & honest servant) that thou shouldest -alwayes have bin respective of mine honour, and all that do appertain unto -me. There are many noble Gentlemen, who sustaining the wrong which -thou hast offred me, they would have procured thy shameful death, which -pitty & compassion will not suffer in me. Wherefore seeing (as thou informest -me) that thou art honourably derived both by father & mother; I will -give end to all thine anguishes, even when thy self art so pleased, releasing -thee from the misery & captivity, wherein I have so long time kept thee, -and in one instant, reduce thine honour & mine into compleat perfection. -As thou knowest, my Daughter <i>Spina</i>, whom thou hast embraced in kindnesse -as a friend (although farre unfitting 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.</p> - -<p>Imprisonment had somewhat misshapen <i>Jehannot</i> in his outward forme, -but not impaired a jot of that noble spirit, really derived from his famous -progenitors, much lesse the true love he bare to his faire friend. And although -most earnestly he desired that, which <i>Conrado</i> 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 resolved judgement, thus replied. -My Lord, affectation of rule, desire of wealthy possessions, or any -other matter whatsoever, could never make me a traytor to you or yours; -but that I have loved, do love & for ever shal love your beautious daughter; -if that be treason, I freely confesse it, & will die a thousand deaths, before -you or any else shal enforce me to denie it; for I hold her highly worthy of -my love. If I have bin more unmannerly with her, then became me, according -to the opinion of vulgar judgment, I have committed but that error, -which evermore is so attendant upon youth; that to denie it, is to denie -youth also. And if reverend age would but remember, that once he was -young, & measure others offences by his own; they would not be thought -so great or greevous, as you (& many more) account them to be, mine being -committed as a friend, & not as an enemy: what you make offer of so willingly -to do, I have alwayes desired, & if I had thought it would have bin -granted, long since I had most humbly requested it; and so much the more -acceptable would it have 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 love to your Daughter <i>Spina</i>, maketh mee to love -you the more for her sake; how hardly soever you entreate me, & bindeth -me in the greater reverence to you, as being the father of my fairest friend.</p> - -<p><i>Messer Conrado</i> hearing these words, stood as one confounded with admiration, -reputing him to be a man of lofty spirit, and his affection most -fervent to his Daughter, which was not 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 meager, 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 <i>Jehannot</i>; 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) having furnished them with all -things fit for the purpose, and time aptly serving, that the Mothers should -be partakers in this joy; he called his wife, and Madam <i>Beritola</i>, to whom -first he spake in this manner.</p> - -<p>What will you say Madam, if I cause you to see your eldest Son, not -long since married to one of my Daughters? whereunto <i>Beritola</i> thus replied. -My Lord, I can say nothing else unto 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 unto 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 Love, 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 <i>Messer Conrado</i>, -I hope (within few dayes) to make you both joyfull. So when the amorous -couple had recovered their former feature, and honourable garments -were prepared for them, privately thus he said to <i>Geoffrey</i>; Beyond -the joy which already thou art inriched withall, how would it please thee -to meet with thine owne Mother here? I cannot beleeve Sir, replied <i>Geoffrey</i>, -that her greevous misfortunes have suffered her to live so long: yet -notwithstanding, if Heaven hath beene so merciful to her, my joyes were -incomparable, for by her gracious counsell, I might well hope to recover -no meane happinesse in <i>Sicilie</i>. Within a while after, both the Mothers -were sent for, who were transported with unspeakable joyes, when they -beheld the so lately maried couple; being also much amazed, when they -could not guesse what inspiration had guided <i>Conrado</i> to this extraordinary -benignity, joyning <i>Jehannot</i> in mariage with <i>Spina</i>. Hereupon Madam -<i>Beritola</i>, remembring the speeches between her and <i>Conrado</i>, began -to observe him very advisedly, and by a hidden vertue, which long had -silently slept in her, and now with joy 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 joy and pitty now contended so violently together, that -shee was not able to utter one word, the sensitive vertues being -so closely combined, that (even 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. Neverthelesse, -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 understanding, that he had not before beene -better advised, he threw his armes about her, and wept exceedingly.</p> - -<p>Afterward, by the loving paines of <i>Conradoes</i> wife, as also her daughter -<i>Spina</i>, Madam <i>Beritola</i> (being recovered 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 over and over, -to no little joy in all the beholders, beside repetition of their severall -misfortunes. <i>Messer Conrado</i> 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, <i>Geoffrey</i> -having found out fit place and opportunity, for conference with his -new created Father, without any sinister opposition; began as followeth.</p> - -<p>Honourable Father, you have raised my contentment to the highest -degree, and have heaped also many gracious favours on my noble Mother; -but now in the finall conclusion, that nothing may remaine uneffected, -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 have my Brother present. <i>Messer Gasparino -d'Oria</i> (as I have once heretofore told you) questing as a common -Pyrate on the Seas, tooke us, and sent us home to his house as slaves, -where (as yet he detaineth him.) I would have you likewise send one into -<i>Sicilie</i>, who informing himselfe more amply in the state of the Country; -may understand what is become of <i>Henriet</i> my Father, and whether he be -living or no. If he remaine alive, to know in what condition he is; and being -secretly instructed in all things, then to returne backe againe to you.</p> - -<p>This motion made by <i>Geoffrey</i>, was so pleasing to <i>Conrado</i>, that without -any reference to further leysure, hee dispatched thence two discreete -persons, the one to <i>Genewaye</i>, and the other to <i>Sicilie</i>: he which went for -<i>Geneway</i>, having met with <i>Gasparino</i>, earnestly entreated him, (on the behalfe -of <i>Conrado</i>) to send him the <i>Poore expelled</i>; and his Nurse recounting -every thing in order, which <i>Conrado</i> had tolde him, concerning <i>Geoffrey</i> -and his Mother: when <i>Gasparino</i> had heard the whole discourse, he marvelled -greatly thereat, and saide; True it is, that I will doe any thing for -<i>Messer Conrado</i>, which may be to his love and liking, provided, 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 unto him. But you may tell him from me, that -I advise him from over-rash crediting the fables of <i>Jehannot</i>, that now -tearms himselfe by the name of <i>Geoffrey</i>, because hee is a more wicked -boy, then he taketh him to be, and so did I find him.</p> - -<p>Having thus spoken, and giving kinde welcome to the Messenger, secretly -he called the Nurse unto him, whom he heedfully examined concerning -this case. Shee having heard the rebellion in the Kingdome of -<i>Sicilie</i>, and understanding withall, that <i>Henriet</i> was yet living; joyfully -threw off all her former feare, relating every thing to him orderly, and the -reasons moving her, to conceale the whole businesse in such manner as -shee had done. <i>Gasparino</i> well perceiving, that the report of the Nurse, -and the message received from <i>Conrado</i>, 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 devise, and finding every thing to yeeld undoubted -assurance; ashamed of the vile and base usage, 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 <i>Henriet</i> also yet living, he gave -her to him in marriage, with a very bountifull and honourable dowry.</p> - -<p>The joviall dayes of feasting being past, he went aboard a Galley, with -the <i>Poore expelled</i>; his Daughter, the Ambassadour, and the Nurse, departing -thence to <i>Lericy</i>, where they were nobly welcommed by <i>Messer Conrado</i>, -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 joy of the Brethren and Mother together, -having also found the faithfull Nurse, <i>Gasparino</i> and his Daughter, in company -now with <i>Conrado</i> and his Wife, friends, familiars, and all generally -in a Jubilee of rejoycing: it exceedeth capacity in me to expresse it, and -therefore I referre it to your more able imagination.</p> - -<p>In the time of this mutuall contentment, to the ende that nothing -might be wanting, to compleat and perfect this universall joy; our Lord, -a most aboundant bestower where he beginneth, added long wished tydings, -concerning the life and good estate of <i>Henriet Capece</i>. For, even -as they were feasting, and the concourse great of worthy guests, both of -Lords and Ladies: the first service was scarcely set on the Tables, but the -Ambassador which was sent to <i>Sicilie</i>, arrived there before them. Among -many other important matters, he spake of <i>Henriet</i>, who being so long a -time detained in prison by King <i>Charles</i>, when the commotion arose in -the City against the King; the people (grudging at <i>Henriets</i> long imprisonment) -slew the Guards, and let him at liberty. Then as capitall enemy -to King <i>Charles</i>, he was created Captaine generall, following the chase, -and killing the French.</p> - -<p>By meanes whereof, he grew great in the grace of King <i>Pedro</i>, 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 delivery of publike joy -and exaltation, when his Wife and Sonne were knowne to be living, of -whom no tydings had at any time beene heard, since the houre of his surprizall. -Moreover, that a swift winged Barke was now sent thither (upon -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 <i>Beritola</i> and <i>Geoffrey</i>; who before they -would sit downe at the Table, saluted <i>Messer Conrado</i> and his kinde Lady -(on the behalfe of <i>Henriet</i>) for all the great graces extended to her and -her Sonne, with promise of any thing, lying in the power of <i>Henriet</i>, to -rest continually at their command. The like they did to <i>Signior Gasparino</i>, -(whose liberall favours came unlooked for) with certaine assurance, that -when <i>Henriet</i> should understand what hee had done for his other Sonne, -the <i>Poore expelled</i>; there would be no defailance of riciprocall courtesies.</p> - -<p>As the longest joyes have no perpetuity of lasting, so all these gracefull -ceremonies had their conclusion, with as many sighes and teares at parting, -as joyes abounded at their first encountring. Imagine then, that -you see such aboard, as were to have here no longer abiding, Madam <i>Beritola</i> -and <i>Geoffrey</i>, with the rest, as the <i>Poore expelled</i>, the so late married -Wives, and the faithfull Nurse bearing them company. With prosperous -windes they arrived in <i>Sicilie</i>, where the Wife, Sonnes, and Daughters, -were joyfully met by <i>Henriet</i> at <i>Palermo</i>, and with such honourable -pompe, as a case so important equally deserved. The Histories make further -mention, that there they lived (a long while after) in much felicity, -with thankfull hearts (no doubt) to Heaven, in acknowledgement of so -many great mercies received.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="The_Soldan_of_Babylon_sent_one_of_his_Daughters_to_be_joyned_in_marriage_with" id="The_Soldan_of_Babylon_sent_one_of_his_Daughters_to_be_joyned_in_marriage_with"><i>The Soldan of Babylon sent one of his Daughters, to be joyned in marriage with -the King of</i> Cholcos; <i>who by divers 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</i> Cholcos, <i>as -a Maide, and as at first shee was intended to be his wife.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The seaventh Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>A lively demonstration, that the beauty of a Woman, (oftentimes) is very hurtfull -to her selfe, and the occasion of many evils, yea, and of death, to divers -men.</i></h4> - - -<p>Peradventure the Novell related by Madam <i>Æmilia</i>, did not extend it -selfe so farre in length, as it moved compassion in the Ladies mindes, -hearing the hard fortunes of <i>Beritola</i> and her Children, which had incited -them to weeping: but that it pleased the Queene (upon the Tales conclusion) -to command <i>Pamphilus</i>, to follow (next in order) with his discourse, -and hee being thereto very obedient, beganne in this manner.</p> - -<p>It is a matter of no meane difficulty (vertuous Ladies) for us to take intire -knowledge of every thing we doe, because (as oftentimes hath beene -observed) many men, imagining if they were rich, they should live securely, -and without any cares. And therefore, not onely have their -prayers and intercessions aimed at that end, but also their studies and daily -endeavours, without refusall of any paines or perils have not meanely -expressed their hourely solicitude. And although it hath happened accordingly -to them, and their covetous desires fully accomplished; yet at -length they have met with such kinde of people, who likewise thirsting -after their wealthy possessions, have 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 adventuring in many skirmishes and -foughten battels, trampling in the bloud of their brethren and friends, -have beene mounted to the soveraigne dignity of Kingdomes, (beleeving -that therein consisted the truest happinesse) but bought with the dearest -price of their lives. For, beside their infinite cares and feares, wherewith -such greatnesse is continually attended, at their royall Tables, they have -drunke poyson in a golden pot. Many other in like manner (with most -earnest appetite) have coveted beauty and bodily strength, not foreseeing -with any judgement, that these wishes were not without perill; when being -endued with them, they either have beene the occasion of their death, -or such a lingering lamentable estate of life, as death were a thousand -times more welcome to them.</p> - -<p>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 us mortals, with entire foresight or providence, 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 us, and will -bestow them at his good pleasure. Nor let me lay this blamefull imputation -upon men onely, for offending in many things through over lavish -desires: because you your selves (gracious Ladies) sinne highly in one, -as namely, in coveting to be beautifull. So that it is not sufficient for -you, to enjoy 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 adventures) within the compasse of foure yeares, -nine severall times to be maried, and onely for her beauty.</p> - -<p>It is now a long time since, that there lived a Soldane in <i>Babylon</i>, named -<i>Beminidab</i>, to whom (while he lived) many things happened, answerable -to his owne desires. Among divers other children both male and -female, he had a daughter, called <i>Alathiella</i>, and shee (according to the -common voyce of every one that saw her) was the fayrest Lady then living -in all the world. And because the King of <i>Cholcos</i> had wonderfully -assisted him, in a valiant foughten battaile, against a mighty Armie of -<i>Arabes</i>, who on a suddaine had assailed him: hee demaunded his faire -daughter in marriage, which likewise was kindly granted to him. A goodly -and well armed Ship was prepared for her, with full furnishment of all -necessary provision, and accompanied with an honourable traine, both -Lords and Ladies, as also most costly and sumptuous accoustrements; -commending her to the mercy of heaven, in this manner was shee sent -away.</p> - -<p>The time being propitious for their parting thence, the Mariners hoised -their sayles, leaving the part of <i>Alexandria</i>, and sayling prosperously -many dayes together. When they had past the Country of <i>Sardignia</i>, -and (as they imagined) were well neere to their journeyes 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, gave over all hope of escaping -with life. Neverthelesse, as men most expert in implacable dangers, they -laboured to their uttermost power, and contended with infinite blustring -tempests, for the space of two dayes and nights together, hoping the third -day would prove more favourable. But therein they saw themselves deceived, -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 marivall judgement, or any -apprehension else whatsoever, the heavens were so clouded, and the -nights darknesse so extreame.</p> - -<p>Being (unknowne to them) neere the Isle of <i>Majorica</i>, they felt the -Ship to split in the bottome, by meanes whereof, perceiving now no -hope of escaping (every one caring for himselfe, and not any other) they -threw forth a Squiffe on the troubled waves, 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 prevailed, -that what with the tempests violence, and over-lading of the -Squiffe, it sunke to the bottome, and all perished that were therein. 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 driven into a strand of the Isle <i>Majorica</i>, no other persons remaining -therein; but onely the Lady and her women, all of them (through -the rude tempest, and their owne conceived 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.</p> - -<p>When day appeared, and the violent stormes were more mildly appeased, -the Lady, who seemed well-neere dead, lifted up 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 jogging -one, and then another, and calling them severally by their names; shee -found them bereft of understanding, and even as if they were dead, their -hearts were so quailed, and their feare so over-ruling, which was no -meane dismay to the poore Lady her selfe. Neverthelesse, necessity -now being her best counsailour, seeing her selfe thus all alone, and not -knowing in what place she was, she used such meanes to them that were -living, that (at the last) they came better to knowledge of themselves. -And being unable to guesse, what was become of the men and Mariners, -seeing the Ship also driven on the sands, and filled with water: she began -(with them) to lament most grievously, 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 urgent a necessity.</p> - -<p>At length, noone being past, a Gentleman, named <i>Bajazeth</i>, attended -by divers of his followers on horseback, and returning from a Country -house belonging to him, chanced to ride by on the sands. Upon 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 resolve his Lord what remayned therein. There hee -found the faire young Lady, with such small store of company as was left -her, fearefully hidden under the prow of the Ship. So soone as they saw -him, they held up their hands, wofully desiring mercy of him: but he perceiving -their lamentable condition, and that hee understoode not what -they said to them; their affliction grew the greater, labouring by signes -and gestures, to give him knowledge of their misfortune.</p> - -<p>The servant, gathering what he could by their outward behaviour, 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 gave them comfort. By the rich garments which -the Lady was cloathed withall, hee reputed her to be a Gentlewoman -well derived, as the great reverence done to her by the rest, gave him -good reason to conceive. 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 lovely in the eye of <i>Bajazeth</i>, -whereupon forthwith he determined, that if she were not maried, -he would enjoy 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.</p> - -<p><i>Bajazeth</i> was a man of sterne lookes, rough and harsh both in speech -and behaviour: yet causing the Lady to be honourably used divers dayes -together, she became thereby well comforted and recovered. And seeing -her beauty to exceede all comparison, he was afflicted beyond measure, -that he could not understand 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 endeavour proved to no purpose, -for shee refused all familiar privacie with him, which so much the -more kindled the fury of his desire. This being well observed by the Lady, -having 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 advantage her, beside, -that long protraction of time would provoke <i>Bajazeth</i>, by faire -meanes or force to obtaine his will: she propounded to her selfe (with -magnanimity of spirit) to tread all misfortunes under her feete, commaunding -her women (whereof she had but three now remaining alive) -that they should not disclose what she was; except it were in some such -place, where manifest signes might yeeld hope of regaining their liberty. -Moreover, shee admonished them, stoutly to defend their honour and -chastity, affirming, that shee had absolutely resolved with her selfe, that -never any other should enjoy her, but her intended husband; wherein -her women did much commend her, promising to preserve their reputation, -according as she had commanded.</p> - -<p>Day by day were the torments of <i>Bajazeth</i> wonderfully augmented, -yet still his kinde offers scornefully refused, and he as farre off from compassing -his desires, as when hee first began to moove the matter: wherefore, -perceiving that all faire courses served to no effect, hee resolved to -compasse his purpose by craft and subtilty, reserving rigorous extremity -for his finall conclusion. And having once observed, that wine was very -pleasing to the Lady, she being never used to drinke any at all, because (by -her Countries law) it was forbidden her, and no meane store having -beene lately brought to <i>Bajazeth</i> in a Barke of <i>Geneway</i>: hee resolved to -surprize her by meanes thereof, as a chiefe Minister of <i>Venus</i>, to heate -the coolest blood. And seeming now in his outward behaviour, as if he -had given over his amorous pursuite, and which she strove by all her best -endeavours to withstand: one night, after a very majestick and solemne -manner, he prepared a delicate and sumptuous supper, whereto the Lady -was invited: and hee had given order, that hee who attended on her -Cup, should serve her with many wines compounded and mingled together, -which hee accordingly performed, as being cunning enough in -such occasions.</p> - -<p><i>Alathiella</i>, mistrusting 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 adversities, -became very frollick and merry: so that seeing some women -daunce after the manner observed therein <i>Majorica</i>, she also fell to dauncing, -according to the <i>Alexandrian</i> custome. Which when <i>Bajazeth</i> beheld, -he imagined the victory to be more then halfe wone, and his hearts -desire very neere the obtaining: plying her still with wine upon wine, and -continuing this revelling the most part of the night. At the length, the -invited guests being all gone, the Lady retired then to her chamber, attended -on by none but <i>Bajazeth</i> himselfe, and as familiarly, as if hee had -beene one of her women, shee no way contradicting his bold intrusion, -so faire had wine over-gone her sences, and prevailed against all modest -bashfulnesse. These wanton embracings, strange to her that had never -tasted them before, yet pleasing beyond measure, by reason of his trecherous -advantage: 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 ever ought to attend on -Ladies.</p> - -<p>Now, Fortune envying 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 <i>Bajazeth</i> had a Brother, aged about five and -twenty yeares, of most compleate person, in the very beauty of his time, -and fresh as the sweetest smelling Rose, he being named <i>Amurath</i>. 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 -behaviour and civill apparancie, highly to deserve his very best -opinion, for she was not meanely entred into his favour. 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 <i>Bajazeth</i> kept -her: which raised a cruell conceit in his minde, whereon followed (not -long after) as cruell an effect.</p> - -<p>It came to passe, that at the same time, in the Port of the Citie, called -<i>Caffa</i>, there lay then a Ship laden with Merchandize, being bound thence -for <i>Smirna</i>, of which Ship two <i>Geneway</i> Merchants (being brethren) were -the Patrones and owners, who had given direction for hoysing the sayles, -to depart thence when the winde should serve. With these two <i>Genewayes -Amurath</i> had covenanted, for himselfe to goe abord the Ship the -night ensuing, and the Lady in his company. When night was come, -having resolved with himselfe what was to be done: in a disguised habite -hee went to the house of <i>Bajazeth</i>, 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 themselves closely in the house. -After some part of the night was over-past, hee knowing the severall -lodgings both of <i>Bajazeth</i> and <i>Alathiella</i>: 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 Jewels belonging to <i>Bajazeth</i>, unheard -or undescried by anybody, they went presently to the Port, and -there, without any further delay, <i>Amurath</i> and the Lady were received -into the Ship, but his companions returned backe againe; when the Mariners, -having their sayles ready set, and the winde aptly fitting for them, -launched forth merrily into the maine.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Amurath</i> did so -kindly comfort her, with milde, modest, and manly perswasions; that all -remembrance of <i>Bajazeth</i> was quickly forgotten, and shee became converted -to lovely demeanour, even when Fortune prepared a fresh misery -for her, as not satisfied with those whereof shee had tasted already. The -Lady being enriched with unequalled beauty (as wee have often related -before) her behaviour 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 carriage, that <i>Amurath</i> should neither see or suspect it.</p> - -<p>When the brethren had imparted their loves extremity each to the -other, and plainely perceived, that though they were equally in their -fiery torments, yet their desires were utterly contrary: they began severally -to consider, that gaine gotten by Merchandize, admitted an equall -and honest division, but this purchase was of a different quality, pleading -the title of a sole possession, without any partner or intruder. Fearefull -and jealous were they both, least either should ayme at the others intention, -yet willing enough to shake hands, in ridding <i>Amurath</i> 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 -<i>Amurath</i> was sitting upon the deck, studiously observing, 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 above halfe a leagues distance, -before any perceived his fall into the Sea.</p> - -<p>When the Lady heard thereof, and saw no likely meanes of recovering -him againe, she fell to her wonted teares and lamentations: but the -two Lovers came quickly to comfort her, using kinde words and pithie -perswasions (albeit shee understood them not, or at the most very little) to -appease the violence of her passions; and, to speake uprightly, shee did -not so much bemoane the loss of <i>Amurath</i>, as the multiplying of her -owne misfortunes, still one succeeding in the necke of another. After -divers long and well delivered Orations, as also very faire and courteous -behaviour, they had indifferently pacified her complaynings: they began -to discourse and commune with themselves, which of them had most -right and title to <i>Alathiella</i>, and (consequently) ought to enjoy her. Now -that <i>Amurath</i> was gone, each pleaded his priviledge to be as good as the -others, both in the Ship, goods, and all advantages else whatsoever happening: -which the elder brother absolutely denied, alleadging first his -propriety of birth, a reason sufficient, whereby his younger ought to give -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 justice -to be highest preferred. Last of all, that his strength onely threw <i>Amurath</i> -into the Sea, and therefore gave him the full possession of his -prize, no right at all remaining to his brother.</p> - -<p>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 receiving so many perilous -hurts, remained (neverthelesse) living. This unhappy 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 severity of punishment. But the earnest entreaties of the -wounded surviver, and their arrivall at <i>Smirna</i> soone after, delivered him -from the danger of death, gave some ease to her sorrow, and there with -him shee went on shore.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Ionia</i>, who lately before (on very urgent -occasions) was come to <i>Smirna</i>. 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, understanding -in what manner shee was brought thither, he devised 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 have inflicted on -her.</p> - -<p>The Prince perceiving, that beside her matchlesse beauty, shee had the -true character of royall behaviour; greeved 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 motive -to set a keener edge on his affection towards her, yet not to enjoy -her as in honourable and loving 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 private and publike conference in all <i>Natolia</i>, -that (welneere) there was no other discourse, in any Assembly whatsoever.</p> - -<p>Hereupon the Duke of <i>Athens</i>, being young, goodly, and valiant of -person, as also a neere Kinsman to the Prince, had a desire to see her; and -under colour of visiting his noble Kinsman, (as oftentimes before he had -done) attended with an honourable traine, to <i>Smirna</i> 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 Prince solliciting the Duke thereto very earnestly, they both -went together to see her; and shee having before heard of their comming, -adorned her selfe the more majestically, entertaining them with ceremonious -demeanor (after her Countries custome) which gave most -gracious and unspeakable acceptation.</p> - -<p>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 understood not any part of her language: so -that they could have no other conference, but by lookes and outward -signes onely; and the more they beheld her, the more they marvelled at -her rare perfections, especially the Duke, who hardly credited that shee -was a mortall creature. Thus not perceiving, 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 love (beyond all measure) with her. When the Prince -and he were parted from her, and hee was at his owne private amorous -meditations in his Chamber; he reputed the Prince far happier then any -man else whatsoever, by the enjoying of such a peerelesse beauty.</p> - -<p>After many intricate and distracted cogitations, which molested his -braines incessantly, regarding more his loves wanton heate, then reason, -kindred, and honourable hospitality; he resolutely determined (whatsoever -ensued thereupon) to bereave 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, justice, 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 <i>Churiacy</i>; he prepared his horses to be in readinesse, and dispatched -all his affaires else for a sudden departure. The night following, -he was secretly conveyed by the said <i>Churiacy</i>, 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. Having 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.</p> - -<p>Here you are to observe, that the Pallace was seated on the Sea shore, -and very high, and the window whereat the Prince then stood looking -foorth, was directly over divers 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 having 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 having thus executed what they -came for, proceeded yet in their cunning a little further; casting a strangling -coard about the necke of <i>Churiacy</i>, seeming as if they hugged and -embraced him: but drew it with so maine strength, that he never spake one -word after, and so threw him downe after the Prince.</p> - -<p>This done, and plainely perceiving 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 Majesty? Being no way daunted by his so late committed sinne, but -swimming rather in surfet of joy, his hands all bloody, and his soule much -more uglie; 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, -nor opening her eyes to be otherwise resolved. 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 having his agents at hand fit and -convenient 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 themselves had entred, laying her in a Princely litter; -away they went with all possible speede, not tarrying in any place, untill -they were arrived neere <i>Athens</i>. 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 -served in most honourable manner.</p> - -<p>The Gentlemen usually attending on the Prince, having 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 privately 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 relied 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 <i>Churiacy</i>: tooke hold of the corde about <i>Churiacyes</i> -necke, and so went along dragging it after him. The bodye being -knowne to many, with no meane mervaile, 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 majesticke pomp that might -bee.</p> - -<p>Upon further inquisition, who should commit so horrid a deed, perceyving -likewise, that the Duke of <i>Athens</i> was not to be found, but was -closely gone: they judged (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 Soveraigne, -inciting him to revenge so horrid a wrong, and promising to assist -him with their utmost 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 neighbours, kindred, and friends, collected -from divers places; he mustred a goodly and powerful army, marching -on towards <i>Athens</i>, to make war against the Duke.</p> - -<p>No sooner heard he of this warlike preparation made against him, but -he likewise levied forces for his owne defence, and to his succour came -many great States: among whom, the Emperor of <i>Constantinople</i> sent his -Sonne <i>Constantine</i>, attended on by his Nephew <i>Emanuell</i>, with troopes -of faire and towardly force, who were most honourably welcommed -and entertained by the Duke, but much more by the Dutchesse, because -she was their sister in law.</p> - -<p>Military provision thus proceeding on daily more and more, the Dutches -making choise of a fit and convenient 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 thereof, -and complaining very earnestly unto them, entreated that for the -Dukes honour, and her comfort, they would give their best assistance in -this case.</p> - -<p>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 leave, and parted from her. Often they had heard the Lady -much commended, and her incomparable beauty highly extolled, yea, -even by the Duke himselfe; which made them the more desirous to see -her: wherefore earnestly they solicited him, to let them have a sight of her, -and he (forgetting what happened to the Prince, by shewing her so unadvisedly -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 small train, -away they rode to dine with her.</p> - -<p><i>Constantine</i> being seated at the Table, he began (as one confounded -with admiration) to observe her judiciously, affirming secretly to his soule -that he had never seene so compleat a woman before; and allowing it for -justice, that the Duke, or any other whosoever, if (to enjoy 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 upon -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 utterly abandoned; no other thoughts could come neerer him, but -how to bereave the Duke of her, yet concealing his love, and not imparting -it to any one.</p> - -<p>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: wherefore the Duke <i>Constantine</i> 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 divers dayes together, <i>Constantine</i>, who could thinke on nothing -else, but the beautifull Lady, considered with himselfe, that while the Duke -was now so far off from her, it was an easie matter to compasse his intent: -hereupon, the better to colour his present returne to <i>Athens</i>, he seemed -to be surprized with a sudden extreame sicknesse, in regard whereof (by -the Dukes free lisence, and leaving all his power to his Cousen <i>Emanuel</i>) -forthwith he journeyed backe to <i>Athens</i>. After some conference had with -his sister, concerning her dishonourable 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 never more afterward, to be seene in that Countrey any more.</p> - -<p>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 provided, that it might be performed -in such sort, as the Duke her Husband should never understand, that ever -shee gave any consent thereto, which <i>Constantine</i> sware unto her by many -deep oathes, whereby she referred all to his owne disposition. <i>Constantine</i> -hereupon secretly prepared in readinesse a subtill Barke, sending it -(in an evening) neere to the garden where the Lady resorted; having 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.</p> - -<p>Leading her along by the arme towards the Garden, attended on by -two of her servants, 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, upon a signe given by him to one of -his complices, the Barke was brought close to the shore, and the Lady -being suddenly seized on, was immediately conveyed into it; and he returning -backe to her people, with his sword drawne in his hand, saide: -Let no man stirre, 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 <i>Constantine</i> 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 arrived at <i>Melasso</i>. -There they tooke landing, and reposed on shore for some few dayes, <i>Constantine</i> -labouring to comfort the Lady, even as if shee had been his owne -Sister, shee having good cause to curse her infortunate beauty.</p> - -<p>Going aboard the Barke againe, within few dayes they came to <i>Setalia</i>, -and there fearing the reprehension of his Father, and least the Ladie -should be taken from him; it pleased <i>Constantine</i> to make his stay, as in a -place of no meane security. And (as before) after much kinde behaviour -used 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 jot quaile her.</p> - -<p>While occurrences passed on in this manner, it fortuned, that <i>Osbech</i> -the King of <i>Turky</i> (who was in continuall war with the Emperour) came -by accident to <i>Laiazzo</i>: and hearing there how lasciviously <i>Constantine</i> -spent his time in <i>Setalia</i>, with a Lady which he had stolne, being but weake -and slenderly guarded; in the night with certaine well provided ships, his -men & he entred the Towne, & surprized many people in their beds, before -they knew of their enemies comming, killing such as stood upon their -defence against them, (among whom was <i>Constantine</i>) and burning -the whole Towne, brought their booty and prisoners aboard their ships, -wherewith they returned backe to <i>Laiazzo</i>. Being thus come to <i>Laiazzo, -Osbech</i>, who was a brave and gallant young man, upon a review of the -pillage; found the faire Lady, whom hee knew to be the beloved of <i>Constantine</i>, -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 lived there in great joy -with her.</p> - -<p>But before occasions grew to this effect, the Emperour made a confederacy -with <i>Bassano</i>, King of <i>Cappadocia</i>, that hee should descend with -his forces; one way upon <i>Osbech</i>, and hee would assault him with his -power on the other. But he could not so conveniently bring this to passe, -because the Emperour would not yeeld to <i>Bassano</i>, in any unreasonable -matter he demanded. Neverthelesse, when he understood what had happened -to his Son (for whom his griefe was beyond all measure) he granted -the King of <i>Cappadociaes</i> request, solliciting him with all instancy, to be -the more speedy in assailing <i>Osbech</i>. It was not long, before hee heard of -this conjuration made against him; and therefore speedily mustered up all -his forces, ere he would be encompassed by two such potent Kings, and -marched on to meete the King of <i>Cappadocia</i>, leaving his Lady and Wife, -(for her safety) at <i>Laiazzo</i>, in the custodie of a true and loyall servant of -his.</p> - -<p>Within a short while after, he drew neere the Campe belonging to the -King of <i>Cappadocia</i>, where boldly he gave him battell; chancing therein to -be slaine, his Army broken and discomfited, by meanes whereof the King -of <i>Cappadocia</i> remaining Conquerour, marched on towards <i>Laiazzo</i>, -every one yeelding him obeysance all the way as he went. In the meane -space, the servant to <i>Osbech</i>, who was named <i>Antiochus</i>, and with whom -the faire Lady was left in guard; although hee was aged, yet seeing shee -was so extraordinarily beautifull, he fell in love 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 understood and could speake her -language, a matter of no meane comfort to her; who constrainedly had -lived divers yeeres together, in the state of a deafe or dumbe woman, because -every where else they understood her not, nor shee them, but by -shewes and signes.</p> - -<p>This benefit of familiar conference, beganne to embolden his hopes, -elevate his courage, and make him seeme more youthfull in his owne opinion, -then any ability of body could speake unto him, or promise him -in the possession of her, who was so farre beyond him, and so unequall to -be enjoyed by him; yet to advance his hopes a great deale higher, newes -came, that <i>Osbech</i> was vanquished and slaine, and that <i>Bassano</i> made everie -where havocke of all: whereon they concluded together, not to tarrie -there any longer, but storing themselves with the goods of <i>Osbech</i>, secretly -they departed thence to <i>Rhodes</i>. Being seated there in some indifferent -abiding, it came to passe, that <i>Antiochus</i> fell into a deadly sicknesse, to -whom came a <i>Cyprian</i> 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 upon -him dayly, hee determined, not onely to leave 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 unto them in this manner.</p> - -<p>Deare Love, and my most worthily respected friend, I perceive plainly -and infallibly, that I am drawing neere unto my end, which much discontenteth -me; because my hope was, to have lived longer in this world, -for the enjoying 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 ever dearest friend, and you faire Lady, whom -(since the very first sight of you) I loved and honoured in my soule. Irksome -and very grievous it is to me, that (if I dye) I shall leave you here a -stranger, without the counsaile and helpe of any body: and yet much -more offensive would it become, if I had not such a friend as you here -present, who I am faithfully perswaded, will have the like care and respect -of her (even for my sake) as of myselfe, 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 providence, 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 -ever Nature framed. If of these two things you will give me assurance; I -shall depart from you with no meane comfort.</p> - -<p>The friendly Merchant, and likewise the Lady, hearing these words, -wept both bitterly, and after hee had given over 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 gave him very honourable buriall, -according to that Country custome. Which being done, the Merchant -dispatching all his affaires at <i>Rhodes</i>, was desirous to returne home -to <i>Cyprus</i>, in a Carrack of the Catelans then there being: moving the -Lady in the matter, to understand how shee stood enclined, because urgent -occasions called him thence to <i>Cyprus</i>. The Lady made answere, -that she was willing to passe thither with him, hoping for the love hee -bare to deceased <i>Antiochus</i>, that he would respect her as his Sister. The -Merchant was willing to give her any contentment, but yet resolved her, -that under the title of being his Sister, it would be no warrant of security -to them both; wherefore hee rather advised 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 injuries whatsoever.</p> - -<p>Being abord the Carrack, they had a Cabine and small bed conveniently -allowed them, where they slept together, that they might the better -be reputed as man and wife; for, to passe otherwise, would have beene -very dangerous to them both. And questionlesse, their faithfull promise -made at <i>Rhodes</i> to <i>Antiochus</i>, sicknesse on the Sea, and mutuall respect -they had of each others credit, was a constant restraint to all wanton desires, -and a motive rather to incite chastity, then otherwise, and so (I -hope) you are perswaded of them. But howsoever, the windes blewe -merrily, the Carrack sayled lustily, and (by this time) they are arrived at -<i>Baffa</i>, where the <i>Cyprian</i> Merchant dwelt, and where shee continued a -long while with him, no one knowing otherwise, but that shee was his -wife indeede.</p> - -<p>Now it fortuned, that there arrived also at the same <i>Baffa</i> (about some -especiall occasions of his) a Gentleman, whose name was <i>Antigonus</i>, well -stept into yeares, and better stored with wisedome then wealth: because -by medling in many matters, while hee followed the service of the King -of <i>Cyprus</i>, Fortune had beene very adverse 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 <i>Armenia</i>: hee chanced to see -the Lady at a window of the house, and because shee was very beautifull, -he observed her the more advisedly, 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 conceive (upon the very first sight of <i>Antigonus</i>) that -she had formerly seene him in <i>Alexandria</i>, serving her Father in place of -great degree. Hereupon, a suddaine hope perswaded her, that by the -advice and furtherance of this Gentleman, she should recover her wonted -Royall condition: and opportunity now aptly fitting her, by the absence -of her pretended Merchant husband, she sent for him, requesting -to have a few words with him.</p> - -<p>When he was come into the house, she bashfully demanded of him, if -he was not named <i>Antigonus</i> of <i>Famagosta</i>, because shee knew one (like -him) so called? Hee answered, that he was so named, saying moreover: -Madame, me thinkes that I should know you, but I cannot remember -where I have 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 perceiving him to be the man indeede, -weeping incessantly, she threw her armes about his necke, and soone after -asked <i>Antigonus</i> (who stood as one confounded with mervaile) if hee -had never seene her in <i>Alexandria</i>? Upon these words, <i>Antigonus</i> knew her -immediatly to be <i>Alathiella</i>, daughter to the great Soldane, who was supposed -(long since) to be drowned in the Sea: and offering to doe her -such reverence 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.</p> - -<p>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 beleeved 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 have done; and I thinke my Father himselfe would wish it so, if -ever he should come to the knowledge thereof. With these words the -teares rained downe her faire cheekes: wherefore <i>Antigonus</i> thus spake -unto her. Madame, discomfort not your selfe before you have 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 give you such friendly -advice as may stand you in sted, and no way be injurious to you.</p> - -<p>Fetching a sigh, even as if her heart would have split in sunder, thus -she replyed. Ah <i>Antigonus</i>, me thinkes when I looke on thee, I seeme -to behold my royall Father, and therefore mooved with the like religious -zeale and charitable love, as (in duty) I owe unto him: I will make -knowne to thee, what I rather ought to conceale, and hide from any person -living. I know thee to bee honourable, discreete, and truely wise, -though I am a fraile, simple, and weake woman, therefore I dare discover -to thee, rather then any other that I know, by what straunge and unexpected -misfortunes, I have lived so long obscurely in the world. And -if in thy great and grave judgement (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 perceive it impossible to bee done, as earnestly likewise I entreate -thee, never to reveale to any living 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, even from her shipwracke in the Sea of <i>Majorica</i>, until that -very instant houre; speaking them in such harsh manner as they hapned, -and not sparing any jot of them.</p> - -<p><i>Antigonus</i> being mooved to much compassion, declared how hee pitied -her by his teares, and having bene silent an indifferent while, as considering -in this case, what was best to be done, thus he began. Madam, -seeing you have past through such a multitude of misfortunes, yet undiscovered, -what and who you are: I will render you as blamelesse to your -Father, and estate you as fairely in his love, as at the hour when you parted -from him, and afterward make you wife to the King of <i>Cholcos</i>. 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.</p> - -<p>To cut off further tedious circumstances, forthwith he returned to <i>Famagosta</i>, -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 -honour, who have bene impoverished by your service, and also a deed of -great renowne to your selfe, without any much matter of expence and -cost. The King demanding how? <i>Antigonus</i> thus answered. The fayre -daughter of the Soldane, so generally reported to be drowned, is arrived -at <i>Baffa</i>, and to preserve 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 under my -conduct, it will be great honour to you, and no meane benefite to mee; -which kindnesse will for ever be thankfully remembred by the Soldan.</p> - -<p>The King in royall magnificence, replied sodainly, that he was highly -pleased with these good tydings; & having sent honourably for her from -<i>Baffa</i>, with great pompe she was conducted to <i>Famagosta</i>, and there most -graciously welcommed both by the King and Queene, with solemne triumphes, -bankets, and revelling, performed in most Majesticke manner. -Being questioned by the King and Queene, concerning so large a time -of strange misfortunes: according as <i>Antigonus</i> had formerly enstructed -her, so did she shape the forme of her answers, and satisfied (with honour) -all their demands. So, within few dayes after, upon her earnest & instant -request, with an honourable traine of Lords and Ladies, shee was sent -thence, and conducted all the way by <i>Antigonus</i>, untill she came unto the -Soldans Court.</p> - -<p>After some few dayes of her reposing there, the Soldan was desirous -to understand, how she could possibly live so long, in any Kingdome or -Province whatsoever, 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 <i>Antigonus</i> had given her, answered -her father in this manner. Sir, about the twentith day after my -departure from you, a verie terrible and dreadfull tempest over-tooke us, -so that in dead time of the night, our ship being split in sunder upon the -sands, neere to a place called <i>Varna</i>; what became of all the men that -were aboord, I neither know, or ever heard of. Onely I remember, then -when death appeared, and I being recovered 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.</p> - -<p>No sooner were we there, but certaine rude shagge-haird villaines set -upon us, 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 used me, rescued me from them, and forced them to flight. -But the foure horsemen, seeming (in my judgement) to bee persons of -power and authority, letting them go, came to mee, urging sundry questions -to me, which neither I understood, or they mine answers. After -many deliberations held among themselves, setting me upon one of their -horses, they brought me to a Monastery of religious women, according -to the custome of their law: and there, whatsoever they did or sayde, I -know not, but I was most benignely welcommed thither, and honoured -of them extraordinarily, where (with them in devotion) I dedicated my -selfe to the Goddesse of chastity, who is highly reverenced and regarded -among the women of that Countrey, and to her religious service, they -are wholly addicted.</p> - -<p>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 gave -me so much understanding, 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 urged) that I was -daughter to a Gentleman of <i>Cyprus</i>, who sent me to bee married in <i>Candie</i>; -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 observe their customes.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Cyprus</i>. I answerd, that I desired nothing more. -But she, being very carefull of mine honour, would never repose confidence -in any that came for <i>Cyprus</i>; till two honest Gentlemen of <i>France</i>, -who hapned thither about two moneths since, accompanied with their -wives, one of them being a neere kinswoman to the Lady Abbesse. And -she well knowing, that they travelled in pilgrimage to <i>Jerusalem</i>, to visit -the holy Sepulcher, where (as they beleeve) that he whom they held for -their God was buried, after the Jewes had put him to death: recommended -me to their loving trust, with especial charge, for delivering me -to my Father in <i>Cyprus</i>. What honourable love and respect I found in -the company of those Gentlemen and their wives, during our voyage -backe to <i>Cyprus</i>: the history would be over-tedious in reporting, neither -is it much material to our purpose, because your demand is to another -end.</p> - -<p>Sayling on prosperously in our Ship, it was not long, before wee arrived -at <i>Baffa</i>, where being landed, and not knowing any person, neither -what I should say to the Gentlemen, who onely were carefull for delivering -me to my Father, according as they were charged by the reverend -Abbesse: it was the will of heaven doubtlesse (in pitty and compassion of -my passed disasters) that I was no sooner come on shore at <i>Baffa</i>: but I -should there haply meete with <i>Antigonus</i>, whome I called unto in our -countrey Language, because I would not be understood by the Gentlemen -nor their wives, 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 wives, conducting me to the K. of <i>Cyprus</i>, who -received 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, <i>Antigonus</i> who -hath oft heard the whole story of my fortunes, at better leisure will report.</p> - -<p><i>Antigonus</i> then turning to the Soldan, said: My Lord, as shee hath often -told me, and by relation both of the Gentlemen and their wives, she -hath delivered nothing but trueth. Onely shee hath forgotten somewhat -worth the speaking, as thinking it not fit for her to utter, because -(indeede) it is not so convenient for her. Namely, how much the Gentlemen -and their wives (with whom she came) commended the rare honesty -and integrity of life, as also the unspotted vertue, wherein she lived, -among those chaste Religious women, as they constantly (both with -teares and solemne protestations) avouched 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 have said so much, as (both -by the reports, and mine owne understanding) may give you faithfull -assurance, to make your Royall vaunt; of having the fayrest, most -vertuous, and honest Lady to your Daughter, of any King or Prince -whatsoever.</p> - -<p>The Soldane was joyfull beyond all measure, welcomming both him -and the rest in most stately manner, oftentimes entreating the Gods very -heartily, that he might live to requite them with equall recompence, who -had so graciously honoured his daughter: but (above all the rest) the King -of <i>Cyprus</i>, who sent her home so majestically. And having bestowne -great gifts on <i>Antigonus</i>, within a few dayes after, hee gave him leave to -returne to <i>Cyprus</i>: with thankfull favours to the King as well by Letters, -as also by Ambassadours espresly sent, both from himselfe and his -daughter.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Cholcos</i>: he gave him intelligence of all that -had happened, writing moreover to him, that (if he were so pleased) hee -would yet send her in Royall manner to him. The King of <i>Cholcos</i> was -exceeding joyfull of these glad tydings, and dispatching a worthy trayne -to fetch her, she was convayed thither very pompously, and she who had -beene embraced by so many, was received by him as an honest virgine, -living long time after with him in much joy and felicity. And therefore, -it hath beene said as a common Proverbe: The mouth well kist comes -not short of good fortune, but is still renewed like the Moone.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="The_Count_DAngiers_being_falsly_accused_was_banished_out_of_France_left" id="The_Count_DAngiers_being_falsly_accused_was_banished_out_of_France_left"><i>The Count</i> D'Angiers <i>being falsly accused, was banished out of</i> France, <i>& left -his two children in</i> England <i>in divers places. Returning afterward (unknowne) -thorow</i> Scotland, <i>hee found them advanced unto great dignity. -Then, repayring in the habite of a Servitour, into the King of</i> France <i>his -Armie, and his innocencie made publiquely knowne; hee was reseated in his -former honourable degree.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The eight Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Whereby all men may plainely understand, that loyalty faithfully kept to the -Prince (what perils so ever doe ensue) doth yet neverthelesse renowne a man, -and bring him to farre greater honour.</i></h4> - - -<p>The Ladies sighed very often, hearing the variety of wofull miseries -happening to <i>Alathiella</i>: but who knoweth, what occasion moved -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 leaving that to their -owne construction, they smiled merrily at the last speeches of <i>Pamphilus</i>, -and the Queene perceiving the Novell to be ended: shee fixed her eye -upon Madame <i>Eliza</i>, as signifying thereby, that she was next to succeede -in order, which shee joyfully embracing, spake as followeth. The field is -very large and spacious, wherein all this day we have walked, and there is -not any one here, so wearied with running the former races, but nimbly -would adventure 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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>France</i> and one of his sonnes, having congregated the forces -of their owne dominions, as also of their friends and confederates, they -resolved manfully to encounter their enemies. But before they would -adventure on any rash proceeding; they held it as the chiefest part of -pollicie and Royall providence, not to leave the State without a chiefe -or Governour. And having had good experience of <i>Gualtier</i>, Counte -<i>D'Angiers</i>, 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 travaile:) hee was -elected Lieutenant Governour in their sted, over the whole Kingdome -of <i>France</i>, and then they went on in their enterprize.</p> - -<p>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 under his care and custodie, yet (notwithstanding) -he honoured them as his superiours, and as the dignity of -their quality required. Heere you are to observe, concerning Counte -<i>Gualtier</i> himselfe, that he was a most compleat person, aged little above -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 <i>Gualtier</i> died in -the meane while, leaving him onely a sonne and a daughter, very young -and of tender yeares, which made his owne home the lesse welcome to -him, having lost his deare Love and second selfe.</p> - -<p>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 upon him, convaying such conspiring -passions to her heart (in regard of his person and vertues) that her -love exceeded all capacity of governement. Her desires out-stepping all -compasse of modesty, or the dignity of her Princely condition; throwes -off all regard of civill and sober thoughts, and guides her into a Labyrinth -of wanton imaginations. For, she regards not now the eminencie -of his high authority, his gravity of yeares, and those parts that are the -true conducts to honour: but lookes upon her owne loose and lascivious -appetite, her young, gallant, and over-ready yeelding nature, comparing -them with his want of a wife, and likely hope (thereby) of her sooner -prevailing; supposing, that nothing could be her hinderance, but onely -bashfull shame-facednesse, which she rather chose utterly to forsake and -set aside, then to faile of her hote enflamed affection, and therefore, shee -would needes be the discoverer of her owne disgrace.</p> - -<p>Upon a day, being alone by her selfe, and the time seeming suteable -to her intention: shee sent for the Counte, under colour of some other -important conference with him. The Counte <i>D'Angiers</i>, 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, upon -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 up into her face, yet shame -enforcing teares from her eyes, with words broken and halfe confused, at -last she began to deliver her minde in this manner.</p> - -<p>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 divers occasions) -much more upon the one, then the other. Wherefore desertfully, -in the censure of a just and upright Judge, a fault of divers 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, having no other helpe for maintainance, but labourious -travaile of their bodies should worthily receive more sharpe reprehension, -in yeelding to amorous desires, or such passions as are incited by -love; then a wealthy Lady whose living relieth not on her paines or cares, -neither wanteth any thing that she can wish to have: I dare presume, that -you your selfe will allow this to be equall and just. In which respect, I am -of the minde, that the fore-named allegations, ought to serve as a sufficient -excuse, yea, and to the advantage of her who is so possessed, if the -passions of love should over-reach her: alwayes provided, 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 servile or vile election.</p> - -<p>These two especiall observations, allowable in my judgement, and living -now in me, seazing on my youthfull blood and yeares: have found -no mean inducement to love, in regard of my husbands far distance from -me, medling in the rude uncivill actions of warre, when he should rather -be at home in more sweet imployment. You see Sir, that these Orators -advance themselves here in your presence, to acquaint you with the extremity -of my over-commanding agony: and if the same power hath dominion -in you, which your discretion (questionlesse) cannot be voide of; -then let me entreate such advise from you, as may rather helpe, then hinder -my hopes. Beleeve 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: have so prevailed against my strongest resistances, that not onely -so weake a woman as I am, but any man of much more potent might -(living in ease and idlenesse as I doe) cannot withstand such continuall assaults, -having no other helpe then flesh and blood.</p> - -<p>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 Love highly favourable to mee, by guiding my -judgement with such moderation, to make election of a wise, worthy, -and honourable friend, fit to enjoy the grace of a farre greater Lady then -I am, and the first letter of his name, is the Count <i>D'Angiers</i>. For if error -have not misled mine eye, as in Love no Lady can be easily deceived: -for person, perfections, and all parts most to be commended in a -man, the whole Realme of <i>France</i> containeth not your equall. Observe -beside, how forward Fortune sheweth her selfe to us 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 unfaigned affection I beare you, and compassion, -which you ought to have of Royall Princesse, even almost sicke to death -for your sake: I earnestly entreate you, not to denie me your loving society, -but pittying my youth and fiery afflictions (never to be quenched -but by your kindnesse) I may enjoy my hearts desire.</p> - -<p>As shee uttered these words, the teares streamed aboundantly downe -her faire cheekes, preventing her of any further speech: so that dejecting -her head into her bosome, overcome with the predominance of -her passions; shee fell upon the Countes knee, whereas else shee had -falne upon the ground. When hee, like a loyall and most honourable -man, sharply reprehended her fonde and idle love, and when shee -would have embraced him about the necke; hee repulsed her roughly -from him, protesting upon his honourable reputation, that rather -then hee would so wrong his Lord and Maister, he would endure a thousand -deathes.</p> - -<p>The Lady seeing her desire disappointed, and her fond expectation -utterly frustrated: grewe instantly forgetfull of her intemperate love, -and falling into extremity of rage, converted 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 unkindnesse, -and all my hoped joyes be defeated in a moment? Know slave, -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 -<i>D'Angiers</i> will forcibly dishonour mee, the lustfull Count will violence -mine honour.</p> - -<p><i>D'Angiers</i> seeing this, and fearing more the malice of the over-credulous -Court, then either his owne conscience, or any dishonourable -act by him committed, beleeving likewise, that her slanderous accusation -would bee credited, above his true and spotlesse innocency: closely -he conveyed himselfe out of the Court, making what hast hee could, -home to his owne house, which being too weake for warranting his safety -upon such pursuite as would be used against him, without any further -advice or counsell, he seated his two children on horsebacke, himselfe also -being but meanly mounted, thus away thence hee went to <i>Calice</i>.</p> - -<p>Upon the clamour and noise of the Lady, the Courtiers quickly flocked -thither; and, as lies soone winne beleefe in hasty opinions, upon any -silly or shallow surmise: so did her accusation passe for currant, and the -Counts advancement being envied 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 used 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 severe condemnation, -all his progeny being sentenced with perpetuall exile, and -promises of great and bountifull rewards, to such as could bring his body -alive or dead.</p> - -<p>Thus the innocent Count, by his over-hasty and sodaine flight, made -himselfe guilty of this foule imputation: and arriving at <i>Callice</i> with his -children, their poore and homely habites, hid them from being knowne, -and thence they crossed over into England, staying no where untill hee -came to London. Before he would enter into the City, he gave divers -good advertisements to his children, but especially two precepts above -all the rest. First, with patient soules to support the poore condition, -whereto Fortune (without any offence in him or them) had thus dejected -them. Next, that they should have 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 lives. His Sonne, being named <i>Lewes</i>, and -now about nine yeares old, his daughter called <i>Violenta</i>, and aged seaven -yeares, did both observe their fathers direction, as afterward it did -sufficiently appeare. And because they might live in the safer securitie, -hee thought it for the best to change their names, calling his sonne -<i>Perotto</i>, and his daughter <i>Gianetta</i>, for thus they might best escape unknowne.</p> - -<p>Being entred into the Citty, and in the poore estate of beggers, they -craved every bodies mercy and almes. It came to passe, that standing -one morning at the Cathedrall Church-doore, a great Lady of England, -being then wife to the Lord high Marshall, comming 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 <i>Picardy</i>, and for an unhappy -fact committed by his eldest sonne (a stripling of more hopefull -expectation, then proved) hee was enforced, with those his two other -children to forsake his country. The Lady being by nature very pittiful, -looking advisedly 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 proove answerable to hir outward -goods parts: if therefore thou canst bee content to leave her with -me, I will give her entertainment, and upon her dutifull carriage and behaviour, -if she live to such yeares as may require it, I will have 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 delivered his prettie -daughter to the Lady.</p> - -<p>Shee being thus happily bestowne, hee minded to tarry no longer in -<i>London</i>; but, in his wonted begging manner, travailing thorough the -Country with his sonne <i>Perotto</i>, at length hee came into <i>Wales</i>: but not -without much weary paine and travell, being never used before, to journey -so far on foote. There dwelt another Lord, in office of Marshalship -to the King of <i>England</i>, whose power extended over those partes; a man -of very great authority, keeping a most noble and bountifull house, which -they termed the <i>President of Wales his Court</i>; 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 divers other Gentlemens -children, were performing certaine youthfull sports & pastimes, -as running, leaping, and such like, wherein <i>Perotto</i> presumed to make -one among them, excelling all the rest in such commendable manner, as -none of them came any thing nere him. Divers times the President had -taken notice thereof, and was so well pleased with the Lads behaviour, -that he enquired, of whence he was? Answer was made, that hee was a poore -mans son, that every day came for an almes to his gate.</p> - -<p>The President being desirous to make the boy his, the Count (whose -dayly prayers were to the same purpose) frankly gave his son to the Nobleman: -albeit naturall and fatherly affection, urged some unwillingnesse -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 under good and woorthie government: -the Count would continue no longer in <i>England</i>: but, as best -he could procure the meanes, passed over into <i>Ireland</i>, and being arrived -at a place called <i>Stanford</i>, became servant to an Earle of that Country, a -Gentleman professing Armes, on whom he attended as a serving man, & -lived a long while in that estate very painfully.</p> - -<p>His daughter <i>Violenta</i>, clouded under the borrowed name of <i>Gianetta</i>, -dwelling with the Lady at <i>London</i>, grew so in yeares, beauty, comelinesse -of person, and was so gracefull in the favour of her Lord and Lady, yea, -of every one in the house beside, that it was wonderfull to behold. Such -as but observed her usuall carriage, and what modesty shined clearely in -her eyes, reputed her well worthy of honourable preferment; in which -regard, the Lady that had received 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 deserved. -But God, the just rewarder of all good endeavours, 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.</p> - -<p>The noble Lady, with whom poore <i>Gianetta</i> 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 every way answerable to his outward behaviour, exceeding -<i>Gianetta</i> about sixe yeeres in age. Hee perceiving 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 love concealed from his -Parents, not daring to desire her in marriage: for loth hee was to loose -their favour, by disclosing the vehemency of his afflictions, which proved -a greater torment to him, then if it had beene openly knowne.</p> - -<p>It came to passe, that love over-awed him in such sort, as he fell into a -violent sicknesse, and score of Physicions were sent for, to save him from -death, if possibly it might be. Their judgements observing the course of -his sicknesse, yet not reaching to the cause of the disease, made a doubtfull -question of his recovery; which was so displeasing to his parents, that -their griefe and sorrow grew beyond measure. Many earnest entreaties -they moved 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.</p> - -<p>It chanced on a day, a Physicion was brought unto him, being young -in yeeres, but well experienced in his practise, and as hee made triall of -his pulse, <i>Gianetta</i> (who by his Mothers command, attended on him very -diligently) upon some especial occasion entred into the Chamber, which -when the young Gentleman perceived, 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 observation, to note how long that fit -would continue. No sooner was <i>Gianetta</i> gone forth of the Chamber, -but the pulse immediately gave over beating, which perswaded the Physicion, -that some part of the disease had now discovered it selfe apparantly.</p> - -<p>Within a while after, pretending to have some speech with <i>Gianetta</i>, -and holding the Gentleman still by the arme, the Physicion caused her to -be sent for, and immediately shee came. Upon 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 <i>Gianetta</i>; for manifest signes have made it knowne to me, and -he loveth the Damosell very dearely: yet (for ought I can perceive, the -Maide doth not know it) now if you have 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 preserve -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 <i>Gianetta</i>.</p> - -<p>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 enjoying 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 soever, but it should have beene provided 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 Heaven hath been more mercifull to thee, then thou wouldest -be to thy selfe or us. And to prevent 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 love, and why shouldst thou shame to manifest as much, it being -so apt and convenient for thy youth? For if I were perswaded, that thou -couldst not love, I should make the lesse esteeme of thee. Therefore deare -Sonne, be not dismayed, but freely discover thine affections. Expel those -disastrous drouping thoughts, that have 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 love thee as dearely as mine owne life. -Set therefore aside this nice conceit of shame and feare, revealing the -truth boldly to me, if I may stead thee in thy love; resolving thy selfe unfaignedly, -that if my care stretch not to compasse thy content, account me -for the most cruell Mother living, and utterly unworthy of such a Sonne.</p> - -<p>The young Gentleman having 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 loves so strict concealement, -but an especiall error, which I finde by daily proofe in many, who -being growne to yeeres of grave discretion, doe never remember, -that they themselves have bin yong. But because heerein I find you to be -both discreet and wise, I will not onely affirme, what you have seen in me -to be true, but also will confesse, to whom it is: upon condition, that the -effect of your promise may follow it, according to the power remaining -in you, whereby you onely may secure my life.</p> - -<p>His Mother, desirous to bee resolved, whether his confession would -agree with the Physitians words, or no, and reserving another intention -to her selfe: bad him feare nothing, but freely discover his whole desire, -and forthwith she doubted not to effect it. Then Madame (quoth hee) -the matchlesse beauty, and commendable qualities of your maid <i>Gianetta</i>, -to whom (as yet) I have made no motion, to commisserate this my -languishing extremity, nor acquainted any living creature with my love: -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 enjoying of my longing desires, assure -your selfe (most noble Mother) that the date of my life is very short.</p> - -<p>The Lady well knowing, that the time now rather required kindest -comfort, then any severe 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 joy and comfort, disposing her selfe daily to proove, -how in honour she might keepe promise with her Son.</p> - -<p>Within a short while after, calling <i>Gianetta</i> privately to her, in gentle -manner, and by the way of pleasant discourse, she demanded of her, whither -she was provided of a Lover, or no. <i>Gianetta</i>, being never acquainted -with any such questions, a scarlet Dye covering all her modest countenance, -thus replied. Madam, I have no neede of any Lover, and very -unseemly were it, for so poore a Damosell as I am, to have so much as a -thought of Lovers: being banished from my friends and kinsfolke, and -remaining in service as I do.</p> - -<p>If you have 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 unfit, that so faire a Maid as you are, should remaine -destitute of a lover. Madam, sayde <i>Gianetta</i>, considering with my -selfe, that since you received me of my poore Father, you have used me -rather like your daughter, then a servant; it becommeth mee to doe as -pleaseth you. Notwithstanding, I trust (in the regard of mine own good -and honour) never to use any complaint in such a case: but if you please -to bestow a husband on me, I purpose to love 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 live.</p> - -<p>These words were of a quite contrary complexion, to those which -the Lady expected from her, and for effecting the promise made unto hir -Sonne: howbeit (like a wise and noble Lady) much shee inwardly commended -the maids answers, and saide unto her. But tell me <i>Gianetta</i>, 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 love, would ye denie -him? Sodainly the Maide returned this answer; Madam, the King (perhaps) -might enforce me; but with my free consent, hee shall never have -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 project in proofe, saying to her son, that when -he was fully recovered, he should have private accesse to <i>Gianetta</i>, whom -shee doubted not but would be tractable enough to him; for she held it -no meane blemish to her honour, to moove the Maide any more in the -matter, but let him compasse it as he could.</p> - -<p>Farre from the yong Gentlemans humour was this answer of his Mother, -because he aimed not at any dishonourable end: true, faithfull, & -honest love was the sole scope of his intention, foule and loathsome lust -he utterly defied; whereupon, he fell into sickenesse againe, rather more -violently then before. Which the Lady perceiving, revealed her whole -intent to <i>Gianetta</i>, 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 enjoy her in honourable -marriage: accounting it better, for preservation 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 love.</p> - -<p>After great consultation with kindred and friendes, the match was agreed -upon, to the no little joy of <i>Gianetta</i>, who devoutly returned infinite -thankes to heaven, for so mercifully respecting her dejected poore -estate, after the bitter passage of so many miseries, and never tearming -her selfe any otherwise, but the daughter of a poore <i>Piccard</i>. Soone was -the yong Gentleman recovered and married, no man alive so well contented -as he, and setting downe an absolute determination, to lead a loving -life with his <i>Gianetta</i>.</p> - -<p>Let us now convert our lookes to <i>Wales</i>, to <i>Perotto</i>; 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 was -most comely of person, and addicted to all valiant attempts: so that in -Tourneyes, Justes, and other actions of Armes, his like was not to bee -found in all the Island, being named onely <i>Perotto</i> the valiant <i>Piccard</i>, 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 -Province became dispeopled and desolate.</p> - -<p>In the time of this plague and dreadful visitation, the Lord President, -his Lady, Sonnes, Daughters, Brothers, Nephewes, and Kindred dyed, -none remaining alive, but one onely Daughter marriageable, a few of -the houshold servants, beside <i>Perotto</i>, 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 <i>England</i>, understanding that his President of <i>Wales</i> was -dead, and fame liberally relating, the vertues, valour, and good parts of -<i>Perotto</i> 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 <i>D'Angiers</i>, after they were left by him as lost and forlorne.</p> - -<p>Eighteene yeares were now fully over-past, since the Count <i>D'Angiers</i> -fled from <i>Paris</i>, having suffered (in miserable sort) many hard and -lamentable adversities, and seeing himselfe now to be growne aged, hee -was desirous to leave Ireland, and to know (if hee might) what was become -of both his children. Hereupon, perceiving his wonted forme -to be so altered, that such as formerly had conversed most with him, -could now not take any knowledge of him, & feeling his body (through -long labour and exercise endured in service) more lusty, then in his idle -youthfull yeares, especially when he left the Court of <i>France</i>, hee purposed -to proceede in his determination. Being very poore and simple in -apparell, hee departed from the Irish Earle his Maister, with whom hee -had continued long in service, to no advantage or advancement, and -crossing over into <i>England</i>, travailed to the place in <i>Wales</i>, where he left -<i>Perotto</i>: 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 reverenced of the people.</p> - -<p>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 joy to a further enlarging or diminishing, -by sight of the other limme of his life, his dearely affected -daughter <i>Gianetta</i>, denying rest to his body in any place, untill such time -as he came to <i>London</i>. Making there secret enquiry, concerning the Lady -with whom he had left his daughter: hee understoode, that a young -Gentlewoman, named <i>Gianetta</i>, was married to that Ladies onely Son; -which made a second addition of joy to his soule, accounting all his -passed adversities of no value, both his children being living, and in so -high honour.</p> - -<p>Having found her dwelling, and (like a kinde Father) being earnestly -desirous to see her; he dayly resorted neere to the house, where Sir <i>Roger -Mandavill</i> (for so was <i>Gianettaes</i> husband named) chauncing to see him, -being moved to compassion because he was both poore and aged: commaunded -one of his men, to take him into the house, and to give him -some foode for Gods sake, which (accordingly) the servant performed. -<i>Gianetta</i> had divers 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, even as if Nature -had truly instructed them, that this was their aged, though poore -Grandfather, and hee as lovingly receiving these kinde relations from -them, wisely and silently kept all to himselfe, with sighes, teares, and joyes -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 adjoining Parlour, and -threatned to beate them, if they would not doe what their Maister commanded -them.</p> - -<p>Then the children began to cry, saying, that they would tarie still by -the good olde man, because he loved 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 reverence, because shee was now a Noble woman, conceiving -wonderfull joy 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 <i>Gianetta</i> perceiving, -that when her children were fetcht away, they returned againe -to the olde man, and would not leave him; desired their Maister to let -them alone.</p> - -<p>While thus the children continued making much of the good olde -man, Lord <i>Andrew Mandevile</i>, Father to Sir <i>Roger</i>, came into the Hall, as -being so willed to doe by the Childrens Schoolemaister. He being a hastie -minded man, and one that ever despised <i>Gianetta</i> 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 mervaile, if like will to like, a beggers brats to keepe company -with beggers. The Count hearing these contemptible words, was -not a little greeved thereat, and although his courage was greater, then -his poore condition would permit him to expresse; yet, clouding all injuries -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.</p> - -<p>But honourable Sir <i>Roger</i>, perceiving 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 favoured 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 service, -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 service, save 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 service, 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 -<i>D'Angiers</i>, & his children, it came to passe, that the King of <i>France</i> (after -divers leagues of truces passed between him & the <i>Germaines</i>) 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 <i>Germains</i>, the warres began to grow much more fierce -and sharpe, and the King of <i>England</i>, (upon request made to him by his -new brother of <i>France</i>) sent him very honourable supplies of his people, -under the conduct of <i>Perotto</i>, his lately elected President of <i>Wales</i>, and -Sir <i>Roger Mandevile</i>, 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 advice and actions; he accomplished many more notable -matters, then was expected to come from him.</p> - -<p>It so fell out, that in the continuance of this warre, the Queen of <i>France</i> -fell into a grievous sicknes, and perceiving 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 <i>Roane</i>, who -was reputed to be an holy and vertuous man. In the repetition of her other -offences, she revealed what great wrong she had done to the Count -<i>D'Angiers</i>, 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 living, or any of his Children) they might be restored -to their former honour againe.</p> - -<p>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 injuriously wronging a man of so great valour and honour: -Proclamation was made throughout the Camp, and in many other parts -of <i>France</i> beside, that whosoever could produce the Count <i>D'Angiers</i>, 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 favours, which the King franckely -would bestow upon him. When the Count (who walked up and downe in -the habite of a common servitor) heard this Proclamation, forth-with he -went to his Master Sir <i>Roger Mandevile</i>, requesting his speedy repaire to -Lord <i>Perotto</i>, that being both assembled together, he would acquaint -them with a serious matter, concerning the late Proclamation published -by the King. Being by themselves alone in the Tent, the Count spake in -this manner to <i>Perotto</i>. Sir, S. <i>Roger Mandevile</i> here, your equal competitor -in this military service, is the husband to your naturall sister, having as yet -never received any dowry with her, but her inherent unblemishable vertue -& honour. Now because she may not still remain destitute of a competent -Dowry: I desire that Sir <i>Roger</i>, and none other, may enjoy the royall reward -promised by the King. You Lord <i>Perotto</i>, whose true name is <i>Lewes</i>, -manifest your selfe to be nobly borne, and sonne to the wrongfull -banished Count <i>D'Angiers</i>: avouch moreover, that <i>Violenta</i>, shadowed -under the borrowed name of <i>Gianetta</i>, is your owne Sister; and deliver -me up as your Father, the long exiled Count <i>D'Angiers. Perotto</i> hearing -this, beheld him more advisedly, 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 <i>Lewes</i>.</p> - -<p>Sir <i>Roger Mandevile</i>, hearing first what the Count had said, and seeing -what <i>Perotto</i> afterward performed; became surprized with such extraordinary -joy and admiration, that he knew not how to carry himselfe in this -case. Neverthelesse, giving credite to his words, and being somewhat -ashamed, that he had not used the Count in more respective manner, & -remembring beside, the unkinde language of his furious Father to him: -he kneeled downe, humbly craving pardon, both for his fathers rudenes -and his owne, which was courteously granted by the Count, embracing -him lovingly in his armes.</p> - -<p>When they had a while discoursed their severall fortunes, sometime -in teares, and then againe in joy, <i>Perotto</i> and Sir <i>Roger</i>, would have the -Count to be garmented in better manner, but in no wise he would suffer -it; for it was his onely desire, that Sir <i>Roger</i> 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 injurious proceeding. Then Sir <i>Roger -Mandevile</i>, guiding the Count by the hand, and <i>Perotto</i> 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 <i>Roger</i> uppon 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, delivered the aged -Count, by the title of his servant, and presenting <i>Perotto</i> next, said. Sir, -heere I deliver you the Father and his Son, his daughter who is my wife, -cannot so conveniently be heere now, but shortly, by the permission of -heaven, your Majesty shall have a sight of her.</p> - -<p>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 joy also for his so happy recovery, he tooke up the Count -from kneeling, kissing, and embracing him very kindely, welcomming -<i>Perotto</i> in the selfesame manner. Immediately also he gave commaund, -that the Count should be restored to his honours, apparrell, servants, horses, -and furniture, answerable to his high estate and calling, which was as -speedily performed. Moreover, the King greatly honoured Sir <i>Roger -Mandevile</i>, desiring to be made acquainted with all their passed fortunes.</p> - -<p>When Sir <i>Roger</i> had received the royall reward, for thus surrendring -the Count and his Sonne, the Count calling him to him, saide. Take that -Princely remuneration of my soveraigne Lord the King, and commending -me to your unkinde Father, tell him that your Children are no beggars -brats, neither basely borne by their Mothers side. Sir <i>Roger</i> returning -home with his bountifull reward, soone after brought his Wife and -Mother to <i>Paris</i>, and so did <i>Perotto</i> his Wife, where in great joy and triumph, -they continued a long while with the noble Count; who had all his -goods and honours restored to him, in farre greater measure then ever -they were before: his Sonnes in Law returning home with their Wives -into <i>England</i>, left the Count with the King at <i>Paris</i>, where he spent the -rest of his dayes in great honour and felicity.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Bernardo_a_Merchant_of_Geneway_being_deceived_by_another_Merchant" id="Bernardo_a_Merchant_of_Geneway_being_deceived_by_another_Merchant">Bernardo, <i>a Merchant of</i> Geneway, <i>being deceived by another Merchant, -named</i> Ambroginolo, <i>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 -servant to the Soldane. The deceiver being found at last, shee compassed -such meanes, that her Husband</i> Bernardo <i>came into</i> Alexandria, <i>and -there, after due punishment inflicted on the false deceiver, shee resumed the -garments againe of a woman, and returned home with her Husband to</i> Geneway.</a></h4> - -<h2>The ninth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is declared, that by over-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 justly punished for their treachery.</i></h4> - - -<p>Madam <i>Eliza</i> having ended her compassionate discourse, which indeede -had moved all the rest to sighing; the Queene, who was faire, -comely of stature, and carrying a very majesticall countenance, smiling -more familiarly then the other, spake to them thus. It is very necessary, -that the promise made to <i>Dioneus</i>, should carefully be kept, and because -now there remaineth none, to report any more Novels, but onely he and -my selfe: I must first deliver mine, and he (who takes it for an honour) to -be the last in relating his owne, last let him be for his owne deliverance. -Then pausing a little while, thus shee began againe. Many times among -vulgar people, it hath passed as a common Proverbe: That the deceiver -is often trampled on, by such as he hath deceived. And this cannot shew -it selfe (by any reason) to be true, except such accidents as awaite on treachery, -doe really make a just discovery thereof. And therefore according -to the course of this day observed, I am the woman, that must make good -what I have saide for the approbation of that Proverbe; no way (I hope) -distastfull to you in the hearing, but advantageable to preserve you from -any such beguiling.</p> - -<p>There was a faire and good Inne in <i>Paris</i>, much frequented by many -great <i>Italian</i> Merchants, according to such variety of occasions and businesse, -as urged their often resorting thither. One night among many other, -having had a merry Supper together, they began to discourse on divers -matters, and falling from one relation to another; they communed -in very friendly manner, concerning their wives, 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 love to my wife, and make use -of such an advantage offered.</p> - -<p>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 unknowne are sildome or never called in question. A thirde -man jumpt in censure, with his former fellowes of the Jury; and it plainly -appeared, that al the rest were of the same opinion, condemning their -wives over-rashly, and alledging, that when husbands strayed so far from -home, their wives had wit enough to make use of their time.</p> - -<p>Onely one man among them all, named <i>Bernardo Lomellino</i>, & dwelling -in <i>Geneway</i>, maintained the contrary; boldly avouching, that by the -especiall favour 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 <i>Italy</i> -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 whatsoever, but in woman-hoode shee went beyond -all other. No Lord, Knight, Esquire, or Gentleman, could bee better -served 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 never would shee falsifie her -faith to him, or be lewdly allured by any other man.</p> - -<p>Among these Merchants thus communing together, there was a -young proper man, named <i>Ambroginolo</i> of <i>Placentia</i>, who began to laugh -at the last praises, which <i>Bernardo</i> had used of his wife, and seeming to -make a mockerie thereat, demaunded, if the Emperour had given him -this priviledge, above all other married men? <i>Bernardo</i> being somewhat -offended, answered: No Emperour hath done it, but the especiall blessing -of heaven, exceeding all the Emperours on the earth in grace, and -thereby have received this favour; whereto <i>Ambroginolo</i> presently thus -replied. <i>Bernardo</i>, without all question to the contrary, I beleeve that -what thou hast said, is true, but, for ought I can perceive, thou hast slender -judgement in the nature of things: because, if thou didst observe -them well, thou couldst not be of so grosse understanding; 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 have spoken of our wives, doe thinke any -otherwise of them, then as well and honestly as thou canst of thine, nor -that any thing else did urge 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, upon the matter already -propounded.</p> - -<p>I have ever more understood, that man was the most noble creature, -formed by God to live in this world, and woman in the next degree to -him: but man, as generally is beleeved, and as is discerned by apparant -effects, is the most perfect of both. Having 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 universally graunted, that woman -is more various and mutable, and the reason thereof may be approved, -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 covet the enjoying 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 conceive of a fraile woman, subject (by nature) to -entreaties, flatteries, gifts, perswasions, and a thousand other enticing -meanes, which a man (that is affected to her) can use? Doest thou think -then that shee hath any power to containe? Assuredly, though thou -shouldst rest so resolved, yet cannot I be of the same opinion. For I am -sure thou beleevest, 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 have, 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 -unadvisedly hast done.</p> - -<p><i>Bernardo</i> 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 understanding or shame: but such as are wise, and endued with vertue, -have alwayes such a precious esteeme of their honour, that they will -containe those principles of constancie, which men are meerely carelesse -of, and I justifie my wife to be one of them. Beleeve me <i>Bernardo</i> (replied -<i>Ambroginolo</i>) if so often as thy wives minde is addicted to wanton folly, -a badge of scorne should arise on thy forehead, to render testimonie -of her female frailty; I beleeve the number of them would be more, then -willingly you would wish them to be. And among all married men, in -every degree, the notes are so secret of their wives 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 never -imposed, but in cases evident and apparant.</p> - -<p>Perswade thy selfe then <i>Bernardo</i>, 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 never 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 divers women. Yea, and let me tell thee more <i>Bernardo</i>, were I -in private company with thy wife, howsoever 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.</p> - -<p><i>Bernardoes</i> blood began now to boile, and patience being a little put -downe by choller, thus hee replied. A combat of words requires over-long -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 have my head smitten off, if thou canst winne her to any such -dishonest act, by any meanes whatsoever thou canst use unto her; which -if thou canst not doe, thou shalt onely loose a thousand duckets of gold. -Now began <i>Ambroginolo</i> to be heated with these words, answering thus. -<i>Bernardo</i>, if I had won the wager, I know not what I should doe with thy -head; but if thou be willing to stand upon the proofe, pawne downe five -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 departing hence. I will stand bound to goe for <i>Geneway</i>, 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 private -and especiall tokens, as thou thy selfe shalt confesse that I have not failed. -Provided, that thou doe first promise upon 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 undertaken.</p> - -<p><i>Bernardo</i> saide, be it a bargaine, I am the man that will make good -my five 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 delivered under -either of their hands, <i>Bernardo</i> remaining at <i>Paris</i>, and <i>Ambroginolo</i> -departing for <i>Geneway</i>. There he remained some few dayes, to learne the -streetes name where <i>Bernardo</i> 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 perceived, that he had -undertaken a very idle enterprise, yet would he not give it over so, but -proceeded therein a little further.</p> - -<p>He wrought such meanes, that he came acquainted with a poore woman, -who often frequented <i>Bernardoes</i> house, and was greatly in favour -with his wife; upon whose poverty he so prevailed, 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 -conveyed into the House of <i>Bernardoes</i> Wife, under 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 Bed-chamber, -which was the place where <i>Ambroginolo</i> most desired to -bee.</p> - -<p>Being thus conveyed 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 ever used to -have: <i>Ambroginolo</i> softly opened the Chest, according as cunningly hee -had contrived it; and stepping forth in his sockes made of cloath, observed -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 bravery. No especiall note or marke could hee descrie, -whereof he might make credible report, but onely a small wart upon her -left pappe, with some few haires growing thereon, appearing to be as yellow -as gold.</p> - -<p>Sufficient had he seene, and durst presume no further; but taking one -of her Rings, which lay upon 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 severall nights, the Gentlewoman -neither mistrusting or missing any thing. The third day being come, the -poore woman, according as formerly was concluded, came to have -home her Chest againe, and brought it safely into her owne house; where -<i>Ambroginolo</i> comming forth of it, satisfied the poore woman to her own -liking, returning (with all the forenamed things) so fast as conveniently -he could to <i>Paris</i>.</p> - -<p>Being arrived there long before his limitted time, he called the Merchants -together, who were present at the passed words and wager; avouching -before <i>Bernardo</i>, that he had won his five thousand Duckets, and -performed the taske he undertooke. 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 every circumstance else beside. -Next he shewed the severall things, which he brought away thence -with him, affirming that he had received them of her selfe. <i>Bernardo</i> confessed, -that his description of the Chamber was true, and acknowledged -moreover, that these other things did belong to his Wife: But (quoth -he) this may be gotten, by corrupting some servant 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 <i>Ambroginolo</i>, me thinks -these should serve for sufficient proofes; but seeing thou art so desirous to -know more: I plainely tell thee, that faire <i>Genevra</i> thy Wife, hath a small -round wart upon her left pappe, and some few little golden haires growing -thereon.</p> - -<p>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 unable to utter one word) -that <i>Ambroginolo</i> had spoken nothing but the truth. Within a while after, -he saide; Gentlemen, that which <i>Ambroginolo</i> 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, even to the utmost penny, departing -then from <i>Paris</i> towards <i>Geneway</i>, 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 arrived, he called a servant, in whom hee reposed -especiall trust, sending him to <i>Geneway</i> with two Horses, writing to his -Wife, that he was returned, and shee should come thither to see him. But -secretly he charged his servant, that so soone as he had brought her to a -convenient place, he should there kill her, without any pitty or compassion, -and then returne to him againe.</p> - -<p>When the servant was come to <i>Geneway</i>, and had delivered his Letter -and message, <i>Genevra</i> gave him most joyful welcome, and on the -morrow morning mounting on Horse-backe with the servant, rode merrily -towards the Countrey house; divers things shee discoursed on by the -way, till they descended into a deepe solitary valey, very thickly beset with -high and huge spreading Trees, which the servant supposed to be a meete -place, for the execution of his Masters command. Suddenly drawing -forth his Sword, and holding <i>Genevra</i> fast by the arme, he saide; Mistresse, -quickly commend your soule to God, for you must die, before you passe -any further. <i>Genevra</i> seeing the naked Sword, and hearing the words so -peremptorily delivered, fearefully answered; Alas deare friend, mercy -for Gods sake; and before thou kill me, tell me wherein I have offended -thee, and why thou must kill me? Alas good Mistresse replied the servant, -you have not any way offended me, but in what occasion you have displeased -your Husband, it is utterly unknowne 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 commandedeth. -God is my witnesse, that I am truly compassionate of you, and yet -(by no meanes) may I let you live.</p> - -<p><i>Genevra</i> kneeling before him weeping, wringing her hands, thus replied. -Wilt thou turne Monster, and be a murtherer of her that never -wronged thee, to please another man, and on a bare command? God, who -truly knoweth all things, is my faithfull witnesse, that I never committed -any offence, whereby to deserve the dislike of my Husband, much lesse -so harsh a recompence as this is. But flying from mine owne justification, -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 enjoy 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 ever heare any tydings of me.</p> - -<p>The servant, who had no great good will to kill her, very easily grew -pittifull, tooke off her upper garments, and gave 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 delivered him her -garments, he assured him, that he had not onely accomplished his commaund, -but also was most secure from any discovery: because he had no -sooner done the deede, but foure or five very ravenous Wolfes, came -presently running to the dead body, and gave it buriall in their bellies. -<i>Bernardo</i> soone after returning to <i>Geneway</i>, was much blamed for such -unkinde cruelty to his wife; but his constant avouching of her treason to -him (according then to the Countries custome) did cleare him from all -pursuite of law.</p> - -<p>Poore <i>Genevra</i>, was left thus alone and disconsolate, and night stealing -fast upon her, shee went to a silly village neere adjoining, where (by the -meanes of a good olde woman) she got such provision as the place afforded, -making the doublet fit to her body, and converting 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 <i>Cathalogna</i>, -whose name was <i>Signior Enchararcho</i>, who came on land from his Ship, -which lay hulling there about <i>Albagia</i>, to refresh himselfe at a pleasant -Spring. <i>Enchararcho</i> taking her to be a man, as shee appeared no otherwise -by her habite; upon some conference passing betweene them, shee -was entertained into his service, and being brought aboord the Ship, -she went under the name of <i>Sicurano da Finale</i>. There shee had better -apparell bestowne on her by the Gentleman, and her service proved so -pleasing and acceptable to him, that hee liked her care and diligence beyond -all comparison.</p> - -<p>It came to passe within a short while after, that this Gentleman of -<i>Cathalogna</i> sayled (with some charge of his) into <i>Alexandria</i>, carying thither -certaine peregrine Faulcons, which hee presented to the Soldane: -who oftentimes welcommed this Gentleman to his table, where hee observed -the behaviour of <i>Sicurano</i>, attending on his Maisters trencher, -and therewith was so highly pleased; that he requested to have him from -the Gentleman, who (for his more advancement) willingly parted with -his so lately entertained servant. <i>Sicurano</i> was so ready and discreete in -his dayly services; that he grew in as great grace with the Soldane, as before -he had done with <i>Enchararcho</i>.</p> - -<p>At a certaine season in the yeare, as customarie order (there observed) -had formerly beene, in the Citie of <i>Acres</i>, which was under the Soldanes -subjection: there yearely met a great assembly of Merchants, as Christians, -Moores, Jewes, 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 -used to send thither some of his ordinarie Officers, and a strong -guard of Souldiers beside, to defend them from all injuries and molestation, -because he reaped thereby no meane benefit. And who should be -now sent about this businesse, but his new elected favourite <i>Sicurano</i>; because -she was skilfull and perfect in the languages.</p> - -<p><i>Sicurano</i> being come to <i>Acres</i>, 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 every -part of the Fayre, where shee observed a worthy company of Merchants, -Sicilians, Pisanes, Genewayes, Venetians, and other Italians, -whom the more willingly shee noted, in remembrance of her native -Countrey. At one especiall time, among other, chancing into a Shop or -Boothe belonging to the Venetians; she espied (hanging up 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.</p> - -<p><i>Ambroginolo</i> of <i>Placentia</i>, 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 were his, but not to be solde, yet if hee liked them gladly, hee -would bestowe them on him. <i>Sicurano</i> seeing him smile, suspected, least -himselfe had (by some unfitting behaviour) 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. <i>Ambroginolo</i> replied. My Lord, pardon me, -I smile not at you, or your demaund; but at the manner how I came by -these things.</p> - -<p><i>Sicurano</i>, upon this answere, was ten times more desirous then before, -and said. If Fortune favoured thee in friendly manner, by the obtaining -of these things: if it may be spoken, tell me how thou hadst them. My -Lord (answered <i>Ambroginolo</i>) these things (with many more beside) -were given me by a Gentlewoman of <i>Geneway</i>, named Madame <i>Genevra</i>, -the wife to one <i>Bernardo Lomellino</i>, 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 -five 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 deserved to be punished for his folly, -then shee, who was but sicke of all womens disease: returning from <i>Paris</i> -to <i>Geneway</i>, caused her to be slaine, as afterward it was reported by -himselfe.</p> - -<p>When <i>Sicurano</i> heard this horrible lye, immediatly shee conceived, -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. -<i>Sicurano</i> seemed to like well this report, and grew into such familiarity -with <i>Ambroginolo</i>, that (by her perswasions) when the Fayre was -ended, she tooke him higher with her into <i>Alexandria</i>, and all his Wares -along with him, furnishing him with a fit and convenient 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.</p> - -<p>Much did shee pitty her Husbands perplexity, devising 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 divers gallant Merchants of <i>Geneway</i>, that then remained in <i>Alexandria</i>, -and by vertue of the <i>Soldans</i> friendly Letters, beside to bring him thither -upon 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 private) entertained by divers of her worthy -friends, till time did favour what shee further intended.</p> - -<p>In the expectation of <i>Bernardoes</i> arrivall, shee had so prevailed with -<i>Ambroginolo</i>, that the same tale which he formerly tolde to her, he delivered -againe in presence of the <i>Soldane</i>, who seemed to be well pleased with -it: But after shee had once seene her Husband, shee thought upon her -more serious businesse; providing her selfe of an apt opportunity, when -shee entreated such favour of the <i>Soldane</i>, that both the men might be -brought before him, where if <i>Ambroginolo</i> would not confesse (without -constraint) that which he had made his vaunt of concerning <i>Bernardoes</i> -Wife, he might be compelled thereto perforce.</p> - -<p><i>Sicuranoes</i> word was a Law with the <i>Soldane</i>, so that <i>Ambroginolo</i> and -<i>Bernardo</i> being brought face to face, the <i>Soldane</i>, with a sterne and angry -countenance, in the presence of a most Princely Assembly; commanded -<i>Ambroginolo</i> to declare the truth, yea, upon peril of his life, by what means -he won the wager, of the five thousand golden Duckets he received of -<i>Bernardo. Ambroginolo</i> seeing <i>Sicurano</i> there present, upon whose favour -he wholly relied, yet perceiving her lookes likewise to be as dreadfull as -the <i>Soldanes</i>, and hearing her threaten him with most greevous torments, -except he revealed the truth indeede: you may easily guesse (faire company) -in what condition he stood at that instant.</p> - -<p>Frownes and fury he beheld on either side, and <i>Bernardo</i> 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 avouched. Yet dreaming on no other paine or penalty, but restoring -backe the five thousand Duckets of gold, and the other things by -him purloyned, truly he revealed the whole forme of his falshood. Then -<i>Sicurano</i> according as the <i>Soldane</i> had formerly commanded him, turning -to <i>Bernardo</i>, saide. And thou, upon the suggestion of this foule lie, -what didst thou to thy Wife? Being (quoth <i>Bernardo</i>) overcome with -rage, for the losse of my money, and the dishonour I supposed to receive -by my Wife; I caused a servant of mine to kill her, and as he credibly avouched, -her body was devoured by ravenous Wolves in a moment -after.</p> - -<p>These things being thus spoken and heard, in the presence of the <i>Soldane</i>, -and no reason (as yet) made knowne, why the case was so seriously -urged, and to what end it would succeede: <i>Sicurano</i> spake in this manner -to the Soldane. My gracious Lord, you may plainely perceive, in what -degree that poore Gentlewoman might make her vaunt, being so well -provided, both of a loving friend, and a husband. Such was the friends -love, 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 invincible trueth, -whereof he had faithfull knowledge, by long and very honourable experience; -caused her to be slaine, and made foode for devouring Wolves. -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 have worthily deserved: -if you please (in your ever knowne gracious benignity) to permit -the punishment of the deceiver, and pardon the party so deceived; -I will procure such meanes, that she shall appeare here in your presence, -and theirs.</p> - -<p>The Soldane, being desirous to give <i>Sicurano</i> all manner of satisfaction, -having followed the course so industriously: bad him to produce the -woman, and hee was well contented. Whereat <i>Bernardo</i> stoode much -amazed, because he verily beleeved that she was dead. And <i>Ambroginolo</i> -foreseeing already a preparation for punishment, feared, that the repayment -of the money would not now serve 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. <i>Sicurano</i> having -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 use them, but must truely witnesse -what she was indeede, and therefore thus spake.</p> - -<p>Great Soldane, I am the miserable and unfortunate <i>Genevra</i>, that, for -the space of sixe whole yeares, have wandered through the world, in the -habite of a man, falsly and most maliciously slaundered, by this villainous -traytour <i>Ambroginolo</i>, and by this unkinde cruell husband, betrayed -to his servant to be slaine, and left to be devoured by savage 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 <i>Ambroginolo</i>, -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, having alreadie acknowledged the -contrarie, being stricken dumbe with shamefull disgrace, was not able to -utter one word.</p> - -<p>The Soldane, who had alwayes reputed <i>Sicurano</i> to be a man, having -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 <i>Genevra</i>, whom (till that time) he had alwayes called <i>Sicurano</i>. So committing -her to the company of honourable Ladies, to be changed from -her manly habite: he pardoned <i>Bernardo</i> her husband (according to her -request formerly made) although hee had more justly deserved death; -which likewise himselfe confessed, and falling at the feete of <i>Genevra</i>, desired -her (in teares) to forgive his rash transgression, which most lovingly -she did, kissing and embracing him a thousand times.</p> - -<p>Then the Soldane strictly commaunded, that on some high and eminent -place of the Citie, <i>Ambroginolo</i> should be bound and impaled on a -Stake, having his naked body annointed all over with honey, and never to -be taken off, untill (of it selfe) it fell in pieces, which, according to the -sentence, was presently performed. Next, he gave expresse charge, that -all his mony and goods should be given to <i>Genevra</i>, which valued above -ten thousand double Duckets. Forth-with a solemne feast was prepared, -wherein, much honour was done to <i>Bernardo</i>, being the husband -of <i>Genevra</i>: and to her, as to a most worthy woman, and matchlesse wife, -he gave in costly Jewels, as also vessels of gold and silver plate, so much -as amounted to above ten thousand double Duckets more.</p> - -<p>When the feasting was finished, he caused a Ship to be furnished for -them, graunting them licence to depart for <i>Geneway</i> when they pleased: -whither they returned most rich and joyfully, being welcommed home -with great honour, especially Madame <i>Genevra</i>, whom every one supposed -to be dead, and alwayes after, so long as shee lived, shee was most famous -for her manifold vertues. But as for <i>Ambroginolo</i>, 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 devoured 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 evill -towards him. And thus was the Proverbe truly verified, that shame succeedeth -after ugly sinne, and the deceiver is trampled and trod, by such -as himselfe hath deceived.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Pagamino_da_Monaco_a_roving_Pirate_on_the_Seas_caried_away_the_faire" id="Pagamino_da_Monaco_a_roving_Pirate_on_the_Seas_caried_away_the_faire">Pagamino da Monaco, <i>a roving Pirate on the Seas, caried away the faire -Wife of</i> Signior Ricciardo di Chinzica, <i>who understanding where shee -was, went thither; and falling into friendship with</i> Pagamino, <i>demaunded -his Wife of him; whereto he yeelded, provided, that shee would willingly goe -away with him. She denied to part thence with her Husband, and</i> Signior -Ricciardo <i>dying; she became the Wife of</i> Pagamino.</a></h4> - -<h2>The tenth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein olde men are wittily reprehended, that will match themselves with -younger women, then is fit for their yeares and insufficiencie; never considering, -what afterward may happen to them.</i></h4> - - -<p>Every one in this honest and gracious assembly, most highly commended -the Novell recounted by the Queene: but especially <i>Dioneus</i>, -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 Novell, 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 unmanly indiscretion of <i>Bernardo</i>, -but much more the base arrogancie of <i>Ambroginolo</i>, how justly deserved -shame fell upon him; as well it may happen to all other, that are so vile -in their owne opinions, as he apparantly approved himselfe to be. For, -as men wander abroade in the world, according to their occasions in diversity -of Countries, and observation of the peoples behaviour: so are -their humours as variously transported. And if they finde women wantonly -disposed abroade, the like judgement they give of their wives at -home; as if they had never 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 themselves to be endued with more -strength, then Nature ever meant to bestow upon them, foolishly beleeving, -that they can cover 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.</p> - -<p>Let me tell you then, that there lived in <i>Pisa</i> (about some hundred yeeres -before <i>Tuscanie</i> & <i>Liguria</i> came to embrace the Christian Faith) a Judge -better stored with wisdome and ingenuity, then corporall abilities of the -body, he being named <i>Signior Ricciardo di Cinzica</i>. 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 endeavour) to enjoy a faire -and youthfull wife in marriage: both which qualities he should much rather -have avoyded, if he could have ministred as good counsell to himselfe, as -he did to others, resorting to him for advice.</p> - -<p>Upon this his amorous and diligent inquisition, it came so to passe, -that a worthy Gentlewoman, called <i>Bertolomea</i>, one of the very fairest and -choysest young Maides in <i>Pisa</i>, whose youth did hardly agree with his -age; but mucke was the motive of this mariage, and no expectation of -mutuall contentment. The Judge being maried, and the Bride brought -solemnly home to his house, we need make no question of brave cheare -& banqueting, wel furnished by their friends on either side: other matters -were now hammering in the Judges 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 Judge failing -in plea for his owne defence, was often non-suited by lacke of answer; yet -he wanted neither good wines, drugges, and all restauratives, to comfort -the heart, and encrease good blood; but all avayled not in this case.</p> - -<p>But well fare a good courage, where performance faileth, he could liberally -commend his passed joviall 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 <i>Ravenna</i>, 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 reverence of whom, and for their sakes, -he approved by divers 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 honour of our Lords rest, and all the sacred time -of Lent; as also certaine observations of the Moone, & infinite other exceptions -beside; thinking perhaps, that it was as convenient for men to -refraine from their wives conversation, as he did often times from sitting -in the Court. These were his daily documents to his young wife, wherewith -(poore soule) she became so tired, as nothing could be more irksome -to her; and very carefull he was, lest any other shold teach her what belonged -to working daies, because he wold have her know none but holidaies.</p> - -<p>Afterward it came to passe, that the season waxing extremely hot, <i>Signior -Ricciardo</i> would goe recreate himselfe at his house in the Countrey, -neere unto the black Mountaine, where for his faire wives more contentment, -he continued divers dayes together. And for her further recreation, -he gave order, to have a day of fishing; he going aboard a small Pinnace -among the Fishers, and shee was in another, consorted with divers -other Gentlewomen, in whose company shee shewed her selfe very well -pleased. Delight made them launch further into the Sea, then either the -Judge was willing they should have done, or agreed with respect of their -owne safety. For suddenly a Galliot came upon them, wherein was one -<i>Pagamino</i>, 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 coveted -after no other purchase; but mounting her into his Galliot, in the sight of -<i>Signior Ricciardo</i>, who (by this time) was fearefully landed, he caried her away -with him. When <i>Signior</i> Judge had seene this theft (he being so jealous -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 <i>Pisa</i>, and in many other places beside, what injury he had -sustained by those Pyrates, in carying his wife thus away from him: but all -was in vaine, he neither (as yet) knew the man, nor whether he had conveyed -her from him. <i>Pagamino</i> perceiving 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 using any harsh or uncivill demeanor to her, because -shee wept and lamented grievously. But when night came, her husbands -Calendar falling from her girdle, and all the fasts & feasts quite out -of her remembrance; she received such curteous consolations from <i>Pagamino</i>, -that before they could arrive at <i>Monaco</i>, the Judge & his Law cases, -were almost out of her memory, such was his affable behaviour to her, and -she began to converse with him in more friendly manner, and he entreating -her as honourably, as if shee had beene his espoused wife.</p> - -<p>Within a short while after, report had acquainted <i>Ricciardo</i> the Judge, -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 <i>Monaco</i>, where he saw his wife, and shee him, as (soone after) shee made -known to <i>Pagamino</i>. On the morrow following, <i>Signior Ricciardo</i> meeting -with <i>Pagamino</i>, made means to be acquainted with him, & within lesse then -an houres space, they grew into familiar & private conference: <i>Pagamino</i> -yet pretending not to know him, but expected what issue this talke would -sort to. When time served, the Judge discoursed the occasion of his comming -thither, desiring him to demand what ransome he pleased, & that he -might have his wife home with him; whereto <i>Pagamino</i> thus answered.</p> - -<p>My Lord Judge, you are welcome hither, and to answer you breefely -very true it is, that I have a yong Gentlewoman in my house, whome I -neither know to be your wife, of any other mans else whatsoever: 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 avouch, 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 have said, and be willing to depart hence with you: I shall rest well -satisfied, and will have no other recompence for her ransome (in regard -of your grave and reverent yeares) but what your selfe shall please to give -me. But if it fall out otherwise, and prove not to be as you have 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. Beleeve it certainly, replied the Judge, that she is -my wife, and if you please to bring me where she is, you shall soone perceive -it: for, she will presently cast her armes about my neck, and I durst -adventure the utter losse of her, if shee denie to doe it in your presence. -Come on then, said <i>Pagamino</i>, and let us delay the time no longer.</p> - -<p>When they were entred into <i>Pagaminoes</i> 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 conversing together; never uttering any one word to <i>Signior -Ricciardo</i>, or knowing him from any other stranger, that <i>Pagamino</i> might -bring in to the house with him. Which when my Lord the Judge beheld, -(who expected to finde a farre more gracious welcome) he stoode -as a man amazed, saying to himselfe. Perhaps the extraordinary griefe -and melancholly, 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 Love, dearely have I -bought your going on fishing, because never man felt the like afflictions, -as I have done since the day when I lost you: but by this your uncivill silence, -you seeme as if you did not know me. Why dearest Love, seest thou -not that I am thy husband <i>Ricciardo</i>, who am come to pay what ransome -this Gentleman shall demaund, even in the house where now we are: so -to convay thee home againe, upon his kinde promise of thy deliverance, -after the payment of thy ransome?</p> - -<p><i>Bertolomea</i> turning towards him, and seeming as if shee smiled to her -selfe, thus answered. Sir, speake you to me? Advise your selfe well, least -you mistake me for some other, because, concerning my selfe, I doe not -remember, that ever I did see you till now. How now quoth <i>Ricciardo</i>? -consider better what you say, looke more circumspectly on me, and then -you will remember, that I am your loving husband, and my name is <i>Ricciardo -di Cinzica</i>. You must pardon me Sir, replied <i>Bertolomea</i>, 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 upon you never -so often, certaine I am, that (till this instant) I have not seene you.</p> - -<p>My Lord Judge conceived in his mind, that thus she denied all knowledge -of him, as standing in feare of <i>Pagamino</i>, and would not confesse him in -his presence. Wherefore hee entreated of <i>Pagamino</i>, to affoord him so -much favour, that he might speake alone with her in her Chamber. <i>Pagamino</i> -answered, that he was well contented therewith, provided, that he -should not kisse her against her will. Then he requested <i>Bertolomea</i>, 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, <i>Signior Ricciardo</i> began -in this manner. Heart of my heart, life of my life, the sweetest hope -that I have in this world; wilt thou not know thine owne <i>Ricciardo</i>, who -loveth 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.</p> - -<p><i>Bertolomea</i> smiled to her selfe, and without suffering him to proceed any -further in speech, returned him this answere. I would have you to understand -Sir, that my memory is not so oblivious, but I know you to be <i>Signior -Ricciardo di Cinzica</i>, 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 judgement) -the world reputed you to be, you could not be voide of so much -apprehension, but did apparantly perceive, 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 utter it. But if studying the Lawes were -more welcome to you then a wife, you ought not to have maried, & you -loose the worthy reputation of a Judge, 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 conversation of husbands and wives.</p> - -<p>Here am I now with a worthy Gentleman, that entertained mee with -very honourable respect, and here I live 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 civill conversation, 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 enjoying any -company of mine, for you heare my resolved determination.</p> - -<p>The Judge hearing these words, was overcome with exceeding griefe, -& when she was silent, thus he began. Alas deare Love, what an answer -is this? Hast thou no regard of thine owne honour, thy Parents, & friends? -Canst thou rather affect to abide here, for the pleasures of this man, and -so sin capitally, then to live at <i>Pisa</i> 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 reject thee. I must and shall love thee for ever, and when -I dye, I leave 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 loves 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 endeavour heereafter to give thee better contentment. -Wherefore (deare heart) doe not denie me, but change thy minde, and -goe with me, for I never saw merry day since I lost thee.</p> - -<p>Sir (quoth she) I desire no body to have care of mine honour, 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 have I to regard them now? And -whereas you taxe me, that I cannot live here without capitall sin; farre is -the thought thereof from me, for, here I am regarded as the wife of <i>Pagamino</i>, -but at <i>Pisa</i>, you reputed me not worthy your society: because, by -the point of the Moone, and the quadratures of Geomatrie; the Planets -held conjunction betweene you and me, whereas here I am subject to no -such constellations. You say beside, that hereafter you will strive to give -me better contentment then you have 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 -rejecting me, when his humour is satisfied; should if it prove to be -so (as it is the least part of my feare) what fortune soever shall betide me, -never will I make any meanes to you, what miseries or misadventures -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 live secured from all offence to holy Saints, and -not to injury their feasts, fasts, vigills, and other ceremonious seasons: -here is my demourance, and from hence I purpose not to part.</p> - -<p>Our Judge was now in a wofull perplexity, and confessing his folly, in -marying a wife so yong, and far unfit for his age and abilitie: being halfe -desperate, sad and displeased, he came forth of the Chamber, using divers -speeches to <i>Pagamino</i>, whereof he made little or no account at all, and in -the end, without any other successe, left his wife there, & returned home -to <i>Pisa</i>. There, further afflictions fell upon him, because the people began -to scorne him, demanding dayly of him, what was become of his gallant -young wife, making hornes, with ridiculous pointings at him: whereby his -sences became distracted, so that he ran raving about the streetes, and afterward -died in very miserable manner. Which newes came no sooner -to the eare of <i>Pagamino</i>, but, in the honourable affection hee bare to <i>Bertolomea</i>, -he maried her, with great solemnity; banishing all Fasts, Vigils, -and Lents from his house, and living with her in much felicity. Wherefore -(faire Ladies) I am of opinion, that <i>Bernardo</i> of <i>Geneway</i>, in his disputation -with <i>Ambroginolo</i>, might have shewne himselfe a great deale wiser, -and spared his rash proceeding with his wife.</p> - -<p>This tale was so merrily entertained among the whole company, that -each one smiling upon another, with one consent commended <i>Dioneus</i>, -maintaining that he spake nothing but the truth, & condemning <i>Bernardo</i> -for his cruelty. Upon a generall silence commanded, the Queene perceiving -that the time was now very farre spent, and every one had delivered -their severall Novels, which likewise gave a period to her Royalty: shee -gave the Crowne to Madam <i>Neiphila</i>, pleasantly speaking to her in this -order. Heereafter, the government of these few people is committed to -your trust and care, for with the day concludeth my dominion. Madam -<i>Neiphila</i>, blushing at the honour done unto her, her cheekes appeared of a -vermillion tincture, her eyes glittering with gracefull desires, and sparkling -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.</p> - -<p>Seeing it is so, that you have elected me your Queene, to varie somewhat -from the course observed by them that went before me, whose government -you have all so much commended: by approbation of your -counsell, I am desirous to speake my mind, concerning what I wold have -to be next followed. It is not unknown 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. Moreover, Friday ought to be reverendly respected, in remembrance -of him, who died to give us 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 & devotions, -then the repetition of tales or Novels. Now concerning Saturday, -it hath bin a custom observed among women, to bath & wash themselves -from such immundicities as the former weekes toile hath imposed -on them. Beside, it is a day of fasting, in honour of the ensuing Sabath, whereon -no labour may be done, but the observation of holy exercises.</p> - -<p>By that which hath bin saide, you may easily conceive, that the course -which we have hitherto continued, cannot bee prosecuted, in one and -the same manner: wherefore, I would advice and do hold it an action wel -performed by us, to cease for these few dayes, from recounting any other -Novels. And because we have remained here foure daies already, except -we would allow the enlarging of our company, with some other friends -that may resort unto us: I think it necessary to remove from hence, & take -our pleasure in another place, which is already by me determined. When -we shal be there assembled, and have slept on the discourses formerly delivered, -let our next argument be still the mutabilities of Fortune, but especially -to concerne such persons, as by their wit and ingenuity, industriously -have attained to some matter earnestly desired, or else recovered againe, -after the losse. Heereon let us severally study and premeditate, that -the hearers may receive benefit thereby, with the comfortable maintenance -of our harmlesse recreations; the priviledge of <i>Dioneus</i> alwayes reserved -to himselfe.</p> - -<p>Every one commended the Queens deliberation, concluding that it shold -be accordingly prosecuted: and thereupon, the master of the houshold was -called, to give him order for that evenings Table service, and what else -concerned the time of the Queenes Royalty, wherein he was sufficiently -instructed: which being done, the company arose, licensing every one to -doe what they listed. The Ladies and Gentlemen walked to the Garden, -and having sported themselves 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 <i>Æmilia</i> led the dance, -and the ditty following, was sung by Madam <i>Pampinea</i>, being answered -by all the rest, as a Chorus.</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">The Song.<br /></span> -</i></div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">And if not I, what Lady else can sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of those delights, which kind contentment bring?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come, come, sweet Love, the cause of my chiefe good,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of all my hopes, the firme and full effect;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sing we together, but in no sad moode,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of sighes or teares, which joy doth counterchecke:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stolne pleasures are delightfull in the taste,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But yet Loves fire is often times too fierce;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Consuming comfort with ore-speedy haste,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which into gentle hearts too far doth pierce.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And if not I, &c.<br /></span> -</i></div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">The first day that I felt this fiery heate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So sweete a passion did possesse my soule,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That though I found the torment sharpe, and great;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet still me thought t'was but a sweete controule.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor could I count it rude, or rigorous,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Taking my wound from such a piercing eye:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As made the paine most pleasing, gracious,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I desire in such assaults to die.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And if not I, &c.<br /></span> -</i></div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">Grant then great God of Love, that I may still<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enjoy the benefit of my desire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And honour her with all my deepest skill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That first enflamde my heart with holy fire.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To her my bondage is free liberty,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My sicknesse health, my tortures sweet repose;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Say shee the word, in full felicity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All my extreames joyne in an happy close.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then if not I, what Lover else can sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of those delights which kind contentment bring.<br /></span> -</i></div></div> - -<p>After this Song was ended, they sung divers other beside, and having -great variety of instruments, they played 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 devotion.</p> - -<h4><i>The ende of the second Day.</i></h4> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="The_Third_Day" id="The_Third_Day">The Third Day.</a></h2> - -<h4><i>Upon which Day, all matters to be discoursed on, doe passe under the regiment of -Madam</i> Neiphila: <i>concerning such persons as (by their wit and industry) -have attained to their long wished desires, or recovered something, supposed -to be lost.</i></h4> - - -<h4><i>The Induction to the ensuing Discourses.</i></h4> - - -<p>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, having -(long before) sent all things necessary to the place -of their next intended meeting. And the people -which prepared there every 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 upon -the Ladies and Gentlemen.</p> - -<p>With a milde, majesticke, 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 travelled two small miles distance, all of them pleasantly -conversing together; they arrived at another goodly Palace, which being -somewhat mounted above the plaine, was seated on the side of a little rising -hill.</p> - -<p>When they were entred there into, and had seene the great Hall, the -Parlours, and beautifull Chambers, every one stupendiously furnished, -with all convenient 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 every 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 divers servants attending on him, presenting them with Comfits, -and other Banquetting, as also very singular Wines, to serve in sted -of a breakefast.</p> - -<p>Having thus reposed themselves 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 beautifull Garden, stored with all varieties that possibly could -be devised; and therefore they observed it the more respectively. The -walkes and allyes were long and spacious, yet directly straite as an arrow, -environed with spreading vines, whereon the grapes hung in copious clusters; -which being come to their full ripenesse, gave so rare a smell throughout -the Garden, with other sweete savours intermixed among, that they -supposed to feele the fresh spiceries of the East.</p> - -<p>It would require large length of time, to describe all the rarities of this -place, deserving 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 diversities of floures, even 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 savour to -the smell.</p> - -<p>In the middest of this Meadow, stood a Fountaine of white Marble, -whereon was engraven 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 up 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 overflow the bounds, it streamed along the Meadow, by secret passages -and chanels, very faire and artificially made, returning againe into every -part of the Meadow, by the like wayes of cunning conveighance, -which allowed it full course into the Garden, running swiftly thence down -towards the plaine; but before it came thether, the very swift current of -the streame, did drive two goodly Milles, which brought in great benefit -to the Lord of the soile.</p> - -<p>The sight of this Garden, the goodly grafts, plants, trees, hearbes, frutages, -and flowers, the Springs, Fountaines, and prety rivolets 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 walked 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, even -as if they envied each others felicities.</p> - -<p>But yet another beauty (which before had not presented it selfe unto -them) on a sodaine they perceyved; namely divers 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 every where: yet without strife or warring together, but -rather living in such a Domesticke and pleasing kinde of company, even -as if they were appoynted to enstruct the most noble of all creatures, to -imitate their sociable conversation.</p> - -<p>When their senses had sufficiently banquetted on these several beauties, -the tables were sodainly prepared about the Fountaine, where first -they sung sixe Canzonets; and having paced two or three dances, they -sate downe to dinner, according as the Queene ordained, being served 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 upon their instruments, singing and dancing gracefully together: -till, in regard of the extreame heate, the <i>Queene</i> commanded to -give over, and permitted such as were so pleased, to take their ease and -rest. But some, as not satisfied with the places pleasures, gave themselves -to walking: others fell to reading the lives of the Romanes; some to the -Chesse, and the rest to other recreations.</p> - -<p>But, after the dayes warmth was more mildely qualified, and everie -one had made benefit of their best content: they went (by order sent from -the <i>Queene</i>) into the Meadow where the Fountaine stood, and being set -about it, as they used to do in telling their Tales (the argument appointed -by the <i>Queene</i> being propounded) the first that had the charge imposed, -was <i>Philostratus</i>, who began in this manner.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Massetto_di_Lamporechio_by_counterfetting_himselfe_to_be_dumbe_became_a" id="Massetto_di_Lamporechio_by_counterfetting_himselfe_to_be_dumbe_became_a">Massetto di Lamporechio, <i>by counterfetting himselfe to be dumbe, became a -Gardiner in a Monastery of Nunnes, where he had familiar conversation -with them all.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The first Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is declared, that virginity is very hardly to be kept, in all places.</i></h4> - - -<p>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 put -on hir head (after it is once shorn -and filletted) & the blacke Cowle -given to cover her withall: shee is -no longer a woman, nor more sensible -of feminine affections, then -as if in turning Nun, shee became -converted 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 have power to do what they list, yea beyonde all -meanes of sufficient satisfying; never remembring withall, how potent -the priviledge of idlenesse is, especially when it is backt by solitude.</p> - -<p>In like manner, there are other people now, who do verily believe, 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 understanding. -But I will approve (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 upon so weake a foundation.</p> - -<p>Not far from <i>Alexandria</i>, there was (and yet is) a great & goodly Monastery, -belonging to the Lord of those parts, who is termed the Admirall. -And therein, under the care and trust of one woman, divers virgins were -kept as recluses or Nunnes, vowed to chastity of life; out of whose number, -the Soldan of <i>Babylon</i> (under whom they lived in subjection) at every -three yeares end, had usually three of these virgins sent him. At the time -whereof I am now to speak, there remained in the Monastery, no more but -eight religious Sisters only, beside the Governesse or Lady Abbesse, and -an honest poore man, who was a Gardiner, and kept the garden in commendable -order.</p> - -<p>His wages being small, and he not well contented therewith, would -serve there no longer: but making his accounts even, with the <i>Factotum</i> -or Bayliffe belonging to the house, returned thence to the village of <i>Lamporechio</i>, -being a native of the place. Among many other that gave him -welcom home, was a yong Hebrew pezant of the country, sturdy, strong, -and yet comely of person, being named <i>Masset</i>. But because he was born -not farre off from <i>Lamporechio</i>, and had there bin brought up all his yonger -dayes, his name of <i>Masset</i> (according to their vulgar speech) was turned -to <i>Massetto</i>, and therefore he was usually called and knowne, by the -name of <i>Massetto</i> of <i>Lamporechio</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Massetto</i>, falling in talke with the honest poore man, whose name was -<i>Lurco</i>, demanded of him what services hee had done in the Monasterie, -having continued there so long a time? Quoth <i>Lurco</i> 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 uppe all their -water beside, with many other toilesom services 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 devill -dwels among them, for a man cannot doe any thing to please them. -When I have 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 have lefte all businesse, gave -over the Garden, and what for one molestation, as also many other; I -intended to tarry no longer there, but came away, as thou seest. And -yet the <i>Factotum</i> desired me at my departing, that if I knew any one, who -would undertake 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.</p> - -<p>When <i>Massetto</i> had heard the Words of <i>Lurco</i>, hee was so desirous to -dwell among the Nunnes, that nothing else now hammered in his head: -for he meant more subtilly, then poore <i>Lurco</i> 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 <i>Lurco</i>, but onely demanded other -matters of him, and among them said. Introth thou didst well <i>Lurco</i>, -to come away from so tedious a dwelling; had he not need to be more -then a man that is to live with such women? It were better for him to -dwell among so many divels, because they understand not the tenth part -that womens wily wits can dive into.</p> - -<p>After their conference was ended, <i>Massetto</i> began to beat his braines, -how he might compasse to dwell among them, & knowing that he could -well enough performe all the labours, whereof <i>Lurco</i> 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. Having -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 have wit sufficient, cleanely to make them beleeve that I am dumbe, -then (questionlesse) I shall be received. And resolving to prosecute this -determination, he tooke a Spade on his shoulder, and without revealing -to any body, whether he went, in the disguise of a poore labouring countryman, -he travelled to the Monastery.</p> - -<p>When he was there arrived, he found the great gate open, and entering -in boldly, it was his good hap to espy the <i>Fac-totum</i> in the court, according -as <i>Lurco</i> had given description of him. Making signes before -him, as if he were both dumbe and deafe; he manifested, that he craved -an Almes for Gods sake, making shewes beside, that if need required, he -could cleave wood, or do any reasonable kinde of service. The <i>Fac-totum</i> -gladly gave him food, and afterward shewed him divers knotty logs -of wood, which the weake strength of <i>Lurco</i> had left uncloven; but this -fellow being more active and lusty, quickly rent them all to pieces. Now -it so fell out, that the <i>Fac-totum</i> must needs go to the Forrest, and tooke -<i>Massetto</i> along with him thither: where causing him to fell divers Trees, -by signes he bad him to lade the two Asses therewith, which commonly -carried home all the wood, and so drive them to the Monasterie before -him, which <i>Massetto</i> knew well enough how to do, and performed it very -effectually.</p> - -<p>Many other servile offices were there to bee done, which caused the -<i>Fac-totum</i> to make use of his paines divers other dayes beside: in which -time, the Lady Abbesse chancing to see him, demanded of the <i>Fac-totum</i> -what he was? Madam (quoth hee) a poore labouring man, who is both -deafe and dumbe: hither he came to crave an almes the other day, which -in charity I could do no lesse but give him; for which hee hath done many -honest services 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 services: for the old silly man is gone, and -we have neede of such a stout fellow, to do the businesse belonging unto -the Monastery, and one fitter for the turne, comes sildome hither. Moreover, -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: understand then, if hee have -any knowledge in Gardening, and whether hee will dwell heere, or no: -which compasse so kindly as you can. Let him have 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 <i>Fac-totum</i> promised -to fulfill sufficiently.</p> - -<p><i>Massetto</i>, 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 joyfull 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 <i>Fac-totum</i> perceived, that he knew perfectly -how to undergo his businesse, and had questioned him by signes, -concerning his willingnesse to serve there still, and received the like answer -also, of his dutifull readinesse thereto; he gave him order, to worke -in the Garden, because the season did now require it; and to leave all other -affayres for the Monastery, attending now onely the Gardens preparation.</p> - -<p>As <i>Massetto</i> 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 lavish 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 deprived -both of hearing and speaking, stood the lesse in feare of the Sisters walks, -but referred them to their owne care and providence. On a day, <i>Massetto</i> -having laboured somewhat extraordinarily, lay downe to rest him selfe -awhile under 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 observing his comelinesse of person, began to pity the poverty -of his condition, but much more the misery of his great defectes. -Then one of them, who had a little livelier spirit then the other, thinking -<i>Massetto</i> to be fast asleepe, began in this manner.</p> - -<p>Sister (quoth she) if I were faithfully assured of thy secrecie, I would -tell thee a thing which I have often thought on, and it may (perhaps) redound -to thy profit. [Example, at least excuses formed to that intent prevaileth much -with such kind of religious women.] Sister, replyed the other Nun, speake your minde -boldly, and beleeve it (on my Maiden-head) that I will never reveale it -to any creature living. Encouraged by this solemne answer, the first Nun -thus prosecuted her former purpose, saying. I know not Sister, whether it -hath entred into thine understanding or no, how strictly we are here kept -and attended, never any man daring to adventure among us, except our -good and honest <i>Fac-totum</i>, 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 oftentimes bin told me, by Gentle-women -comming hither to visite us, 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 unkind parents, binding us to perpetuall chastity, -which they were never able to observe themselves.</p> - -<p>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 discovering the same to her Ghostly Father in confession; he -absolved her of that sinne; affirming, that she had not transgressed with -a man, because he wanted his rationall and understanding parts. Behold -Sister, heere lyes a creature, almost formed in the selfe-same mold, dumb -and deafe, which are two the most rational and understanding 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 Lawes and -constitutions of our Religion doth teach us, that a sinne so assuredly concealed, -is more then halfe absolved.</p> - -<p><i>Ave Maria</i> Sister (said the other Nunne) what kinde of words are these -you utter? Doe not you know, that wee have promised our virginity to -God? Oh Sister (answered the other) how many things are promised -to him every day, and not one of a thousand kept or performed? If wee -have made him such a promise, and some of our weaker witted Sisters do -performe it for us, 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 prove 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 us consider on it then: thou art but a -Novice in matters of such moment, and wee are provided of a thousand -meanes, whereby to prevent conception. Or, if they should faile, wee -are so surely fitted, that the world shall never know it: let it suffice, our -lives 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.</p> - -<p>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 selves, and, while I awake him, -be you the watch, and afterward follow me in my fortune, for I will valiantly -leade you the way. <i>Massetto</i> imitating a dogges sleepe, heard 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 behaviour: into the close Arbour -they went, which the Sunnes bright eye could not pierce into, and there -I leave it to the Nunnes owne approbation, whether <i>Massetto</i> was a man -rationall, or no. Ill deedes require longer time to contrive, then act, and -both the Nunnes, having beene with <i>Massetto</i> at this new forme of confession, -were enjoyned (by him) such an easie and silent penance, as brought -them the oftner to shrift, and made him to proove a perfect Confessour.</p> - -<p>Desires obtained, but not fully satisfied, doe commonly urge more -frequent accesse, then wisdome thinkes expedient, or can continue without -discoverie. Our two Joviall Nunnes, not a little proud of their private -stolne pleasures, so long resorted to the close Arbour; till an other -Sister, who had often observed their haunt thither, by meanes of a little -hole in her window; that shee began to suspect them with <i>Massetto</i>, and -imparted the same to two other Sisters, all three concluding, to accuse -them before the Lady Abbesse. But upon a further conference had with -the offenders, they changed opinion, tooke the same oath as the forewoman -had done, and because they would be free from any taxation at -all: they revealed their adventures to the other three ignorants, and so -fell all eight into one formall confederacie, but by good and warie observation, -least the Abbesse her selfe should descry them; finding poore -<i>Massetto</i> such plenty of Garden-worke, as made him very doubtfull in -pleasing them all.</p> - -<p>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 -<i>Massetto</i> sleeping under an Almond tree, having then very little businesse -to doe, because he had wrought hard all the night before. Shee observed -him to be an hansome man, young, lusty, well limbde, and proportioned, -having a mercifull commisseration of his dumbnesse and deafenesse, -being perswaded also in like manner, that if he were an Eunuch too, he -deserved 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 resolved, almost falling sicke of -the other Nunnes disease. Having awaked him, she commanded him (by -signes) that he should follow her to her chamber, where he was kept close -so long, that the Nunnes grew offended, because the Gardener came not -to his dayly labour.</p> - -<p>Well may you imagine that <i>Massetto</i> was no misse-proud man now, -to be thus advanced 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 -behaviour pleased her so well, as it procured his daily repairing thither; -and acquainted her with such familiar conversation, as shee would have -condemned in the Nuns her daughters, but that they were wise enough -to keepe it from her. Now began <i>Massetto</i> to consider with himselfe, that -he had undertaken a taske belonging to great <i>Hercules</i>, in giving contentment -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.</p> - -<p>Madam, I have often heard it said, that one Cocke may doe service to -ten severall Hennes, but ten men can (very hardly) even with all their best -endeavour, give full satisfaction every way to one woman; and yet I am -tied to content nine, which is farre beyond the compasse of my power to -doe. Already have I performed so much Garden and Chamber-worke, -that I confesse my selfe starke tired, and can travaile 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 served there dumbe; being stricken into admiration, and accounting -it almost a miracle, saide. How commeth this to passe? I verily beleeved -thee to be dumbe. Madam (quoth <i>Massetto</i>) so I was indeed, but not by -Nature; onely I had a long lingering sicknesse, which bereft me of speech, -and which I have not onely recovered againe this night, but shall ever remaine -thankfull to you for it.</p> - -<p>The Abbesse verily credited his answer, demanding what he meant, in -saying, that he did service to nine? Madam, quoth he, this were a dangerous -question, and not easily answered before all the eight Sisters. Upon -this reply, the Abbesse plainly perceived, 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 <i>Massetto</i> should -depart, but to keepe him still about the Nunnes businesse, because the -Monastery should not be scandalized by him. And the <i>Fac-totum</i> being -dead a little before, his strange recovery of speech revealed, and some -things else more neerely concerning them: by generall consent, & with -the good liking of <i>Massetto</i>, he was created the <i>Fac-totum</i> of the Monasterie.</p> - -<p>All the neighbouring people dwelling thereabout, who knew <i>Massetto</i> -to be dumbe, by fetching home wood daily from the Forrest, and divers -employments in other places; were made to beleeve that by the Nunnes -devoute prayers and discipline, as also the merits of the Saint, in whose -honour the Monastery was built and erected, <i>Massetto</i> had his long restrained -speech restored, and was now become their sole <i>Fac-totum</i>, having -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 never talkt of, till after the death of the Ladie Abbesse, -when <i>Massetto</i> beganne to grow in good yeares, and desired, to returne -home to his Native abiding, which (within a while after) was granted -him.</p> - -<p>Thus <i>Massetto</i>, 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, having (by his wit and ingenious -apprehension) made such a benefit of his youthfull years, that now -he merrily tooke ease in his age.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="A_Querry_of_the_Stable_belonging_to_Agilulffo_King_of_the_Lombards_found" id="A_Querry_of_the_Stable_belonging_to_Agilulffo_King_of_the_Lombards_found"><i>A Querry of the Stable, belonging to</i> Agilulffo; <i>King of the Lombards, found -the meanes of accesse to the Queenes bed, without any knowledge or consent -in her. This being secretly discovered by the King, and the party knowne, he -gave 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.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The second Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is signified, the providence of a wise man, when he shall have reason -to use revenge. And the cunning craft of another, when hee compasseth -meanes to defend himselfe from perill.</i></h4> - - -<p>When the Novell of <i>Philostratus</i> was concluded, which made some -of the Ladies blush, and the rest to smile: it pleased the Queene, -that Madam <i>Pampinea</i> 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 (neverthelesse) make -shew of knowing and understanding such things, as neither they are able -to doe, nor appertaine to them: whereby they will sometimes reprehend -other mens errors, and such faults as they have unwillingly 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 <i>Massetto</i>; and yet hee went beyond -a King, that thought himselfe to be a much wiser man.</p> - -<p><i>Agilulffo</i>, King of <i>Lombardie</i>, -according as his Predecessours -had done before him, made the -principall seate of his Kingdome, -in the Citie of <i>Pavia</i>, having embraced -in mariage, <i>Tendelinga</i>, the -late left widdow of <i>Vetario</i>, who -likewise had beene King of the -<i>Lombards</i>; a most beautifull, wise -and vertuous Lady, but made -unfortunate 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 providence 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 -servile condition, had endued him with so much understanding, as to -know infallibly, that his affection was mounted, beyond the compasse of -conveniencie; wisely hee concealed it to himselfe, not acquainting any -one therewith, or daring so much, as to discover it either by lookes, or -any other affectionate behaviour.</p> - -<p>And although hee lived utterly hopelesse, of ever attaining to his -hearts desires; yet notwithstanding, hee proudly gloried, that his love -had soared so high a pitch, as to be enamoured of a Queene. And dayly, -as the fury of his flame encreased; so his carriage was farre above his fellowes -and companions, in the performing of all such serviceable duties, -as any way he imagined might content the Queene. Whereon ensued, -that whensoever shee roade abroad to take the ayre, shee used 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 gave dayly his due attendance: so that, to touch -the Stirrope, but (much more) to put her foote into it, or touch any part -of her garments, he thought it the onely heaven on earth.</p> - -<p>But, as we see it oftentimes come to passe, that by how much the lower -hope declineth, so much the higher love ascendeth; even so fell it out -with this poore Querry; for, most irkesome was it to him, to endure the -heavy waight of his continuall oppressions, not having any hope at all of -the very least mitigation. And being utterly unable to relinquish his love -divers times he resolved on some desperate conclusion, which might yet -give the world an evident testimony, that he dyed for the love he bare to -the Queene. And upon 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 missive of his love; 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.</p> - -<p>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, -under 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 usuall habit was of the King, when he came to keepe companie with -his Queene: he hid himselfe divers 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 using 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 observed.</p> - -<p>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 conveighed -away thence with him, being provided 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 adventures upon -his lives perill. Twice hee knockt softly at the doore, which a wayting -woman immediately opened, and receyving the Light, went forth -into the Gallery, while the supposed King, was conversing with the -Queene.</p> - -<p>Alas good Queene, heere is sinne committed, without any guiltie -thought in thee, as (within a while after) it plainely appeared. For, the -Querry having compassed what he most coveted, 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, unheard or discerned by any of his -fellowes, divers 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 mervaile of the drowsie wayting woman, who was never -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 Majestie was become more pleasantly disposed, whereat the -Queene began not a little to mervaile. Now trust mee Sir, quoth shee, -this hath been a long wished, and now most welcome alteration, vouchsafing -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.</p> - -<p>The King hearing these words, sodainly presumed, that by some counterfeit -person or other, the Queene had been this night beguiled: wherefore -(very advisedly) hee considered, that in regard the party was unknowne -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 have answered -and sworne; I came not hither this night, till now. Whereupon -many dangers might ensue, to the dishonour and prejudice of the Queene; -beside, hir error being discovered to hir, might afterward be an occasion, -to urge a wandring in her appetite, and to covet 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 discover, 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 only desire -you to have 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.</p> - -<p>His blood boyling with rage and distemper, by such a monstrous injurie -offered him; he wrapt his night-mantle about him, and leaving his -Chamber, imagining, that whatsoever he was, needes he must be one of -his owne house: he tooke a light in his hand, and convayed it into a little -Lanthorne, purposing to be resolved 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 divers beds. Now, this was his conceite, that whosoever 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 discovering 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.</p> - -<p>At last he came to the lodging of the man indeede, that had so impudently -usurped his place, who could not as yet sleepe, for joy of his atchieved -adventure. 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 discovered his agony. And although many considerations -were in his braine, yet because he saw that the King was unarmed, 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, -whereby to gather a grounded probability; untill 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.</p> - -<p>Neverthelesse, 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 used 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; perceived plainely (being a subtill ingenious fellow) for -what intent he was thus marked. Wherefore, without any longer dallying, -up he rose, and taking a paire of sheares, wherewith they used 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 perceived by any -one of them, quietly he laide him downe againe.</p> - -<p>In the morning, when the King was risen, he gave command that before -the Pallace gates were opened, all his whole Family should come -before him, as instantly his will was fulfilled. Standing all uncovered 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 have their -lockes cut, all after one and the selfe same manner; marvailing 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 deject or -common understanding. 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 revenge: but rather (by way of -admonition) to let the offender know in a word, that he was both noted -and observed. 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.</p> - -<p>Some other turbulent spirited man, no imprisonments, tortures, examinations, -and interrogatories, could have served 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 upon the very least babling rumor. Such therefore as heard the Kings -words, few though they were, yet truly wise; marvelled much at them, and -by long examinations among themselves, questioned, but came far short -of his meaning; the man onely excepted, whom indeede they concerned, -and by whom they were never discovered, so long as the King lived, neither -did he dare at any time after, to hazard his life in the like action, under -the frownes or favour of Fortune.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Under_colour_of_Confession_and_of_a_most_pure_conscience_a_faire_young_Gentlewoman" id="Under_colour_of_Confession_and_of_a_most_pure_conscience_a_faire_young_Gentlewoman"><i>Under colour of Confession, and of a most pure conscience, a faire young Gentlewoman, -being amourously affected to an honest man; induced a devoute and -solemne religious Friar, to advise her in the meanes (without his suspition or -perceiving) how to enjoy the benefit of her friend, and bring her desires to -their full effect.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The third Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Declaring, that the leude and naughty qualities of some persons, doe oftentimes -misguide good people, into very great and greevous errors.</i></h4> - - -<p>When Madam <i>Pampinea</i> 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, turning her selfe to -Madam <i>Philomena</i>, appointed her to follow next in order, and to hold -rancke with her discourse, as the rest had done before her: whereupon -<i>Philomena</i> graciously began in this manner.</p> - -<p>It is my purpose, to acquaint -you with a notable mockery, -which was performed (not in jest, -but earnest) by a faire Gentlewoman, -to a grave and devoute religious -Friar, which will yeelde so -much the more pleasure and recreation, -to every secular understander, -if but diligently he or shee -doe observe; how commonly -those religious persons (at least -the most part of them) like notorious -fooles, are the inventers of -new courses and customes, as thinking -themselves more wise and -skilful in all things then any other; -yet prove to be of no worth or validity, -addicting the very best of -all their devises, to expresse their -owne vilenesse of minde, and fatten themselves in their sties, like to pampered -Swine. And assure your selves worthy Ladies, that I doe not tell -this Tale onely to follow the order enjoyned me; but also to informe you -that such Saint-like holy Sirs, of whom we are too opinative and credulous, -may be, yea, and are (divers 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.</p> - -<p>In our owne City (more full of craft and deceit, then love or faithfull -dealing) there lived 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 Novell, I meane not to make manifest, albeit I know them, -because some are yet living, and thereby may be scandalized; and therefore -it shall suffice to passe them over 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 lived by the making -and selling of Cloth: shee could not (because he was a Trades-man) take -downe the height of her minde; conceiving, that no man of meane condition -(how rich soever) was worthy to enjoy a Gentlewoman in marriage. -Observing moreover, that with all his wealth and treasure, he understood -nothing better, then to open skeines of yarne, fill shuttles, lay -webbes in Loomes, or dispute with his Spinsters, about their businesse.</p> - -<p>Being thus over-swayed with her proud opinion, shee would no longer -be embraced, or regarded by him in any manner, saving 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 love, 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 understand it, -neither by any womans close conveyed message, nor yet by Letters, as -fearing the perils which happen in such cases. But her eye observing his -daily walkes and resorts, gave her notice of his often conversing 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.</p> - -<p>Having considered with her selfe, what course was best to be observed -in this case; upon a day, apt and convenient, shee went to the Convent, -where he kept, and having caused him to be called, shee told him, that if -his leysure so served, 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.</p> - -<p>Holy Father, it is no more then convenient, that I should have recourse -to you, to be assisted by your help and councell, in a matter which -I will impart unto 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 have -it of him, he being a most rich man, and may very sufficiently affoord it. -In regard whereof, I love him equally as my selfe, and, setting aside my -best endeavours for him; I must tell you one thing, if I should do anything -contrary to his liking and honour, no woman can more worthily deserve death, -then my selfe. Understand then, good Father, that there is a man, whose -name I know not, but hee seemeth to be honest, and of good worth; -moreover (if I am not deceived) 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 never 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 mervaile, that -he is not now here.</p> - -<p>Let me tell you holy Sir, that such behaviours, doe many times lay bad -imputations upon very honest women, yet without any offence in them. -It hath often run in my minde, to let him have knowledge thereof by my -brethren: but afterward I considered, that men (many times) deliver -messages in such sort, as draw on very ungentle 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 priviledgeth 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 (even for our blessed Ladies sake) that you would give -him a friendly reprehension, and advise him, to use such unmanly 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.</p> - -<p>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, beleeved -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 usuall 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, giving 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 enjoyned her, shee promised to make her parents -bountifull benefactours to the Convent, 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.</p> - -<p>Within a short while after her departure, the Gentleman, of whom -she had made this counterfeit complaint, came thither, as was his usuall -manner, and having done his duty to the holy Father; they sate downe -together privately, falling out of one discourse into another. At the -length, the Frier (in very loving and friendly sort) mildly reproved him, -for such amorous glaunces, and other pursuites, which (as he thought) -hee dayly used to the Gentlewoman, according to her owne speeches. -The Gentleman mervailed greatly thereat, as one that had never 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. Never make such admiration at the matter, neither waste -more words in these stout denials, because they cannot serve thy turne: -I tell thee plainely, I heard it not from any neighbours, but even 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 under the seale of absolute assurance) that -she is the onely woman of the world, who (in my true judgement) doth -hate and abhorre all such base behaviour. Wherefore, in regard of thine -owne honour, as also not to vexe & prejudice so vertuous a Gentlewoman: -I pray thee refrain such idlenes henceforward, & suffer hir to live in peace.</p> - -<p>The Gentleman, being a little wiser then his ghostly Father, perceived -immediatly (without any further meditating on the matter) the notable -pollicie of the woman: whereupon, making somewhat bashfull appearance -of any error already committed; hee said, hee would afterward be -better advised. 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 observe, when hee should walke that -way: And seeing him comming, she shewed her selfe so joyfull, and gracious -to him, as he easily understood, whereto the substance of the holy -Fathers chiding tended. And, from that time forward, hee used dayly, -though in covert manner (to the no little liking of the Gentlewoman -and himselfe) to make his passage through that streete, under colour of -some important occasions there, concerning him.</p> - -<p>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 convenient 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 perceiving, sorrowfully demanded -of her, what new accident had happened? Holy Father (quoth shee) no -novell accident, but onely your wicked and ungracious friend, by whom -(since I was here with you, yea, no longer agoe then yesterday) I have -beene so wronged, as I verily beleeve that hee was borne to be my mortall -enemie, and to make me doe something to my utter disgrace for -ever; 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 abusively?</p> - -<p>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 evill -part, to be contraried in his wanton humours, hath (meerely in despight) -walked seaven times in a day by my doore, whereas formerly, -he never used it above 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 even -yesterday, (as I tolde you) he sent a woman to me, one of his <i>Pandoraes</i>, -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 grievously offended, -as had it not beene for my due respect and feare of God, and next -the sacred reverence I beare to you my ghostly Father; doubtlesse, I had -done some wicked deede. Neverthelesse, happily I withstood it, and will -neither say or doe any thing in this case, till first I have made it knowne -to you.</p> - -<p>Then I called to minde, that having redelivered 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 beleeve, that I had received -them (as I have heard such kind of women use to doe sometimes) and in -anger I snatcht them from her, and have brought them hither to you, to -the end that you may give him them againe; and tell him, I have no neede -of any such things, thankes be to Heaven 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 just excuse, that if he will -not abstaine from thus molesting me, I will disclose it to my Husband, Father, -and Brethren, whatsoever shall ensue thereon: for I had rather he -should receive the injury (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 delivered; -and drawing foorth from under her gowne, a very faire and rich -purse, as also a Girdle of great worth, shee threw them into the Friers lap.</p> - -<p>He verily beleeving all this false report, being 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, not will any wise man reproove 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 leave off from further injurying -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.</p> - -<p>Now began she to appeare somewhat better comforted; & forbearing -to play on this string any longer, as wel knowing the covetousnes of him -and his equals, she said. Holy Father, some few nights past, me thought -in my sleepe, that divers 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 poverty, 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 deliver her -soule and the others, out of those fearfull flames; among your infinite other -devout prayers, I would have you to say the fortie Masses of S. <i>Gregory</i>, -as a meanes for their happy deliverance, 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 devotion: -and when he had given her his benediction, home she departed.</p> - -<p>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 behaviour 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 utterly -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 ever saw them till now.</p> - -<p>The Gentleman, seeming as if he were much ashamed, saide. Truely -Father I do know them, and confesse that I have done ill, and very greatly -offended: but now I will sweare unto you, seeing I understande how -firmely she is affected, that you shall never heare any more complaints of -me. Such were his vowes and protestations, as in the end the ghostly Father -gave him both the Purse and Girdle: then after he had preached, & -severely conjured him, never more to vexe her with any gifts at all, and -he binding himselfe thereto by a solemne promise, he gave him license to -depart. Now grew the Gentleman very jocond, being so surely certified -of his Mistresses love, 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 receyved from her, whereof she was extraordinarily joyfull, -because her devices grew still better and better; nothing now wanting, -but her husbands absence, upon some journey from the City, for the full -effecting of her desire.</p> - -<p>Within a few dayes after, such an occasion hapned, as her husband of -necessity must journey to <i>Geneway</i>; and no sooner was hee mounted on -horsebacke, taking leave 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 just reason of my -anger, and full purpose to avoid all further molestation.</p> - -<p>Your friend I cannot terme him, but (questionles) a very divel of hell. -This morning, before the breake of day, having heard (but how, I know -not) that my husband was ridden to <i>Geneway</i>: got over the wall into my -Garden, and climbing up a tree which standeth close before my chamber -window, when I was fast asleepe, opened the Casement, and would have -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 never 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 never saw -him, or heard any tidings of him. Now judge you, holy Father, whether -these be honest courses, or no, and to be endured by any civil Gentlewoman; -neither would I so patiently have suffered this, but onely in my dutifull -reverence to you.</p> - -<p>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 divers times, whether she knew him so perfectly, that she did not 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 over-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 dishonour, and twice -already thou hast credited my counsell, let me now advise thee this last -time. Spare speech, or complaining to any other of thy friends, and leave -it to me, to try if I can overcome this unchained divel, 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 give thee leave to do, even what -thy heart will best tutor thee to. You see Sir (said shee) what manner of -man he is, yet would I not have you troubled or disobeyed, only I desire -to live without disturbance, which work (I beseech you) as best you may: -for I promise you, good Father, never to solicite you more uppon this -occasion: And so, in a pretended rage, shee returned backe from the -ghostly Father.</p> - -<p>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, -gave him the most injurious words that could be used to a man, calling -him disloyall, perjured, and a traitor. Hee who had formerly twice -perceived, how high the holy mans anger mounted, did nothing but expect -what he wold say; and, like a man extreamly perplexed, strove how -to get it from him, saying; Holy Father, how come you to be so heinously -offended? What have I done to incense you so strangely? Heare mee -dishonest wretch answered the Frier, listen what I shall say unto 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? Wheresoever 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 upon urgent necessity.</p> - -<p>After a little curbing in of his wrath, somewhat in a milder strain, thus -he proceeded. Because the Gentlewomans husband is journeyed to <i>Geneway</i>, -proves this a ladder to your hope, that to embrace her in your -armes, you must climbe over the Garden wall, like a treacherous robber -in the night season, mount up a tree before her Chamber window, open -the Casement, as hoping to compasse that by importunity, which her -spotlesse chastity will never permit. There is nothing in the world, that -possibly she can hate more then you, and yet you will love 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 loving admonishments -might have 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 injuries 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 have given her free license, if ever heereafter you offer to attempt -her any more, to make her complaint before her Brethren, which -will redound to your no meane danger.</p> - -<p>The Gentleman, having wisely collected his Love-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 misbehaviour of his. And being gone from him, followed -the instructions given in her complaint, by climbing over 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.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="A_yong_Scholler_named_Felice_enstructed_Puccio_di_Rinieri_how_to_become" id="A_yong_Scholler_named_Felice_enstructed_Puccio_di_Rinieri_how_to_become"><i>A yong Scholler, named</i> Felice, <i>enstructed</i> Puccio di Rinieri, <i>how to become -rich in a very short time. While</i> Puccio <i>made experience of the instructions -taught him;</i> Felice <i>obtained the favour of his Daughter.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The fourth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is declared, what craft and subtilty some wily wits can devise, to deceive -the simple, and compasse their owne desires.</i></h4> - - -<p>After that <i>Philomena</i> had finished -her Tale, she sate still; -and <i>Dioneus</i> with faire and pleasing -Language, commended the -Gentlewomans quaint cunning, -but smiled at the Confessors witlesse -simplicity. Then the <i>Queen</i>, -turning with chearefull looks towards -<i>Pamphilus</i>, commaunded -him to continue on their delight; -who gladly yeelded, and thus began. -Madame, many men there -are, who while they strive 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.</p> - -<p>According as I have heard it reported, neere to Saint <i>Brancazio</i>, there -dwelt an honest man, and some-what rich, who was called <i>Puccio di Rinieri</i>, -and who addicted all his paines and endeavours to Alchimy: wherefore, -he kept no other family, but onely a widdowed daughter, and a servant; -and because he had no other Art or exercise, hee used 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 <i>Monna Isabetta</i>, -aged not above 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 -have done, but when she communed or jested with any body, she would -talke of nothing, but onely concerning the great vertue in Alchimy, extolling -it above all other Arts.</p> - -<p>Much about this season of the yeare, there returned a young Scholler -from <i>Paris</i>, named <i>Felice</i>, faire of complexion, comely of person, ingeniously -witted, and skilfully learned, who (soone after) grew into familiarity -with <i>Puccio</i>: now because he could resolve him in many doubts, depending -on his profession of Alchimy, (himselfe having onely practise, -but no great learning) he used many questions to him, shewed him very -especiall matters of secrecy, entertaining him often to dinners and suppers, -whensoever he pleased to come and converse with him; and his -daughter likewise, perceiving with what favour her Father respected him, -became the more familiar with him, allowing him good regard and reverence.</p> - -<p>The young man continuing his resort to the House of <i>Puccio</i>, and observing -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 save anothers labour, supply them by his best -endeavours. Thus not alwayes carrying his eyes before him, but using -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 observing the same, as occasion first smiled on him, and allowed -him favourable opportunity, so did hee impart his intention to -her.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Puccio</i> (by a long continued -custome) used to watch well neere all the night, as commonly he did, each -night after other, never stirring foorth of the roomes, which much abated -the edge of the young mans appetite. After infinite intricate revolvings, -wheeling about his busied braine, he thought it not altogether an <i>Herculian</i> -taske, to enjoy his happinesse in the house, and without any suspition, -albeit <i>Puccio</i> kept still within doores, and watched as hee was wont to -doe.</p> - -<p>Upon a day as he sate in familiar conference with <i>Puccio</i>, he began to -speake unto him in this manner; I have many times noted, kinde friend -<i>Puccio</i>, that all thy desire and endeavour 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 <i>Mighell, Scotus,</i> and -other his associates, very diligently observed and followed, yet were never -willing to instruct other men therein; whereby the misterie might be -drowned in oblivion, and prosecuted by none but onely great Lords, that -are able to undergoe it. But because thou art mine especiall friend, and I -have received from thee infinite kind favours; whereas I never 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. <i>Puccio</i> being very earnestly desirous to understand 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 unto him, never to disclose it to any person, except hee -gave his consent thereto; affirming beside, that it was a rarity, not easie -to be comprehended by very apprehensive judgements. Well (quoth -<i>Felice</i>) seeing thou hast made me such a sound and solemne promise, I will -make it knowne unto thee.</p> - -<p>Know then friend <i>Puccio</i>, the Philosophers do hold, that such as covet -to become rich indeed, must understand 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 even as rich as now thou art; but -thou shalt plainly perceive, that the very grosest substance, which hitherto -thou hast seene, all of them shal be made pure golde, and such as afterward -thou makest, shall be more certaine, then to go or come with <i>Aqua -fortis</i>, 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, -he must give very carefull attendance, wholly abstaining from sleepe, slumbering, -or so much as nodding all that while.</p> - -<p>Moreover, in some apt and convenient 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 upright on -thy feete, and leaning the reines of thy backe against it; thou must stande -stedfastly in that manner every night, without the least motion or stirring, -untill the breake of day appeareth, and thine eyes still uppon the Furnace -fixed, to keepe ever in memory, the true order which I have prescribed. -So soone as the morning is seene, thou mayst (if thou wilt) walke, or rest -a little upon thy bed, and afterward go about thy businesse, if thou have -any. Then go to dinner, attending readily till the evenings approach, preparing -such things as I will readily set thee downe in writing, without -which there is not any thing to bee done; and then returne to the same -taske againe, not varying a jot from the course directed. Before the time -be fully expired, thou shalt perceive many apparant signes, that the stone -is still in absolute forwardnesse, but it will bee utterly lost if thou fayle in -the least of all the observances. And when the experience hath crowned -thy labour, thou art sure to have the Philosophers stone, and thereby -shalt be able to enrich all, and worke wonders beside.</p> - -<p><i>Puccio</i> instantly replied. Now trust me Sir, there is no 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 -favour, in helping to direct the Furnace and Table, according as you imagine -most convenient) 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 understood -sufficiently, and what would ensue on his nightly watching in -that manner, returning him answer, that whatsoever 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 <i>Puccio</i> was to begin -his experience, and <i>Felice</i> to set forward upon his adventure. Concluded -it was, that every night the Scholler must come to Supper, partly to bee -a witnesse of his constant performance, but more especially for his owne -advantage.</p> - -<p>The place which <i>Puccio</i> had chosen, for his hopefull attaining to the -Philosophers Stone, was close to the Chamber where his daughter lay, -having no other separation or division, but an old ruinous tottring wall. -So that, when the Scholler was playing his prize, <i>Puccio</i> heard an unwonted -noise in the house, which he had never observed before, neither -knew the wall to have 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?</p> - -<p><i>Puccio</i> mervailing at this answer, knowing she never gave 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 have 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 have 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 deceived, 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 have care of -my selfe.</p> - -<p>To prevent any more of these nightly disturbances, they went to lodge -in another part of the house, where they continued out the time of <i>Puccioes</i> -paines, with equall contentment to them both, which made her divers -times say to <i>Felice</i>: 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 use of <i>Puccioes</i> folly, -and found benefit thereby, to keepe him out of wants, which is the -bane and overthrow of numberlesse good wits. And <i>Puccio</i> dying, before -the date of his limitted time, because hee failed of the Philosophers -Stone, <i>Isabetta</i> joyned in marriage with <i>Felice</i>, to make him amends for -enstructing her father, by which meanes he came to be her husband.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Ricciardo_surnamed_the_Magnifico_gave_a_Horse_to_Signior_Francesco_Vergellisi" id="Ricciardo_surnamed_the_Magnifico_gave_a_Horse_to_Signior_Francesco_Vergellisi">Ricciardo, <i>surnamed the Magnifico, gave a Horse to</i> Signior Francesco Vergellisi, -<i>upon condition, that (by his leave 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.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The fifth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is described the frailety of some Women, and folly of such Husbands, as -leave them alone to their owne disposition.</i></h4> - - -<p><i>Pamphilus</i> having ended the -Novell of <i>Puccio</i> the Alchimist, -the Queene fixing her eye -on Madam <i>Eliza</i>, gave order, -that shee should succeede with -hers next. When shee looking -somewhat more austerely, then -any of the rest, not in any spleen, -but as it was her usuall manner, -thus began. The World containeth -some particular people -who doe beleeve (because themselves -know something) that others -are ignorant in all things; -who for the most part, while they -intend to make a scorne of other -men, upon the proofe, doe finde -themselves to carry away the -scorne. And therefore I account -it no meane follie in them, who (upon 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 perceive it more -apparantly, by an accident happening to a Knight of <i>Pistoia</i>, as you shall -heare by me related.</p> - -<p>In the Towne of <i>Pistoia</i>, bordering upon <i>Florence</i>, there lived not long -since, a Knight named Signior <i>Francesco</i>; descended of the linage or family -of the <i>Vergellisi</i>, a man very rich, wise, and in many things provident, -but gripple, covetous, and too close handed, without respect to -his worth and reputation. He being called to the Office of <i>Podesta</i> in the -City of <i>Millaine</i>, furnished himselfe with all things (in honourable manner) -beseeming such a charge; only, a comely horse (for his owne saddle) -excepted, which he knew not by any meanes how to compasse, so loath -he was to lay out money, albeit his credit much depended thereon.</p> - -<p>At the same time, there lived in <i>Pistoya</i> likewise, a young man, named -<i>Ricciardo</i>, derived 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 <i>Magnifico</i>, who had long time -affected, yea, and closely courted, (though without any advantage or -successe) the Lady and Wife of <i>Signior Francesco</i>, who was very beautifull, -vertuous, and chaste. It so chanced, that this <i>Magnifico</i> had the very -choysest and goodliest ambling Gelding in all <i>Tuscanie</i>, which he loved -dearely, for his faire forme, and other good parts. Upon a flying rumor -throughout <i>Pistoria</i>, that he daily made love to the fore-said Lady: some -busie body, put it into the head of <i>Signior Francesco</i>, that if he pleased to -request the Gelding, the <i>Magnifico</i> would frankly give it him, in regard -of the love he bare to his Wife.</p> - -<p>The base minded Knight, coveting to have the Horse, and yet not to -part with any money, sent for the <i>Magnifico</i>, desiring to buy his faire -Gelding of him, because he hoped to have him of free gift. The <i>Magnifico</i> -hearing his request, was not a little joyfull hereof, and thus answered; -Sir, if you would give 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 upon this condition, that before you have -him delivered, 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. <i>Signior Francesco</i>, wholly -conducted by his base avaricious desire, and meaning to make a scorne -at the <i>Magnifico</i>, made answere; that he was well contented, to let him -speake with her when he would, and leaving him in the great Hall of the -house, he went to his Wives Chamber, and told her, how easily he might -enjoy the Horse; 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 covetousnesse should serve as a cloake, to cover any unfitting -speeches, which her chaste eares could never endure to heare: neverthelesse, -being to obey her Husbands will, shee promised to doe it, -and followed him downe into the House, to heare what the <i>Magnifico</i> -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.</p> - -<p>Worthy Lady, it appeareth to me for a certainty, that you are so truly -wise, as you have (no doubt) a long while since perceived, what unfained -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 utterly -needlesse, to let you understand by words, how faithfull the love is I beare -you, were it not much more fervent and constant, then ever 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 enjoy 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 love you perpetually. Whereby you may rest confidently perswaded, -that you enjoy not any thing, how poore or precious soever 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 have, or for ever shall be mine.</p> - -<p>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 service, as consisteth in -mine ability to performe, and in your courteous favour to accept, yea, if -it were to travaile 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 adventure (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 -servant, 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 divine beauty enflamed -mine affections, even so it extended such a mercifull qualification, as exceeded -all my hope, but not the halfe part of your pitty.</p> - -<p>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 have I committed, -in being so unmercifull to my <i>Magnifico</i>. Repentance then serves -to no purpose, but you must answere for such unkinde cruelty. Wherefore, -to prevent 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, hovering and haunting about your bed; let all these -move you to milde mercy, and spill not life, when you may save it.</p> - -<p>So the <i>Magnifico</i> ceasing, with teares streaming from his eyes, and -sighes breaking from his heart, he sate still in exspectation of the Ladies -answere, who made neither long or short of the matter, neither Tilts not -Tourneying, nor many lost mornings and evenings, nor infinite other -such like offices, which the <i>Magnifico</i> (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 love: Moved now in this very houre, by these solemne -protestations, or rather most prevailing asseverations; she began to finde -that in her, which (before) she never felt, namely Love. And although -(to keepe her promise made to her husband) shee spake not a word: yet -her heart heaving, her soule throbbing, sighes intermixing, and complexion -altering, could not hide her intended answere to the <i>Magnifico</i>, -if promise had beene no hinderance to her will. All this while the <i>Magnifico</i> -sate as mute as she, and seeing she would not give him any answere -at all; he could not chuse but wonder thereat, yet at length perceived, -that it was thus cunningly contrived by her husband. Notwithstanding, -observing 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 motives to advance 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 uttered the words, he spake in this manner.</p> - -<p><i>Magnifico</i>, 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. Neverthelesse, if heretofore -I have seemed cruell and unkinde to thee, I would not have thee -thinke, that my heart was any way guilty of my outward severity; but did -evermore love thee, and held thee dearer then any man living. 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 just guerdon of thy -constant love, which long thou hast, and still doest beare to me. Wherefore -comfort thy selfe, and dwell upon this undoubted hope, because <i>Signior -Francesco</i> my husband, is to be absent hence for many dayes, being -chosen <i>Podesta</i> at <i>Millaine</i>, as thou canst not chuse but heare, for it is -common through the Country.</p> - -<p>I know (for my sake) thou hast given him thy goodly ambling Gelding, -and so soone as hee is gone, I promise thee upon my word, and by -the faithfull love I beare thee: that I will have further conference with -thee, and let thee understand somewhat more of my minde. And because -this is neither fitting time nor place, to discourse on matters of such -serious moment; observe heereafter, as a signall, when thou seest my -crimson skarfe hanging in the window of my Chamber, which is upon -the Garden side; that evening (so soone as it is night) come to the Garden -gate, with wary respect, that no eye doe discover thee, and there thou -shalt finde me walking, and ready to acquaint thee with other matters, according -as I shall finde occasion.</p> - -<p>When the <i>Magnifico</i>, 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 joy, for this your gracious and welcome -answere; that my sences so fayle mee, and all my faculties quite forsake -me, as I cannot give you such thankes as I would. And if I could speake -equally to my desire, yet the season sutes not therewith, neither were -it convenient that I should be so troublesome to you. Let me therefore -humbly beseech you, that the desire I have to accomplish your will -(which words availe not to expresse) may remaine in your kinde consideration. -And, as you have 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, under -the protection of your gracious pardon, I to give over speech, and you -to attend your worthy husband.</p> - -<p>Notwithstanding all that hee had spoken, yet shee replied not one -word, wherefore the <i>Magnifico</i> arose, and returned to the Knight, who -went to meete him, saying in a loude laughter. How now man? have I -not kept my promise with thee? No Sir, answered the <i>Magnifico</i>, for you -promised I should speake with your wife, and you have made mee talke -to a marble Statue. This answere was greatly pleasing to the Knight, -who, although hee had an undoubted 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 <i>Magnifico</i>, but if I had -thought, that no better successe would have ensued on the bargaine; -without your motion for the horse, I would have given him you: and I -am sorie that I did not, because now you have bought my horse, and yet I -have not sold him. The Knight laughed heartily at this answere, and being -thus provided of so faire a beast, he rode on his journey to <i>Millaine</i>, -and there entred into his authority of <i>Podesta</i>.</p> - -<p>The Lady remained now in liberty at home, considering on the <i>Magnificoes</i> -words, and likewise the Gelding, which (for her sake) was given 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 under her Colours. The Story saith, that -among many of her much better meditations, she was heard to talke thus -idely to herselfe. What doe I meane? Wherefore is my youth? The -olde miserable man is gone to <i>Millaine</i>, and God knoweth when hee -comes backe againe, ever, or never. 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. Upon these un-Lady-like private consultations, -whether the window shewed the signall or no; it is no matter belonging -to my charge: I say, husbands are unwise, to graunt such ill advantages, -and wives much worse, if they take hold of them, onely judge -you the best, and so the Tale is ended.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Ricciardo_Minutolo_fell_in_love_with_the_Wife_of_Philippello_Fighinolfi" id="Ricciardo_Minutolo_fell_in_love_with_the_Wife_of_Philippello_Fighinolfi">Ricciardo Minutolo <i>fell in love with the Wife of</i> Philippello Fighinolfi, -<i>and knowing her to be very jealous of her Husband, gave her to understand, -that he was greatly enamoured of his wife, and had appointed to meete her -privately in a Bathing house, on the next day following: Where she hoping to -take him tardie with his close compacted Mistresse, found herselfe to be deceived -by the said</i> Ricciardo.</a></h4> - -<h2>The sixth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Declaring, how much perseverance, and a couragious spirit is availeable in love.</i></h4> - - -<p>No more remained to be spoken by Madame <i>Eliza</i>, but the cunning -of the <i>Magnifico</i>, being much commended by all the company: the -Queene commanded Madame <i>Fiammetta</i>, to succeede next in order with -one of her Novels, who (smilingly) made answere that she would, and -began thus. Gracious Ladies, me thinkes wee have spoken enough already, -concerning our owne Citie, which as it aboundeth copiously in all -commodities, so is it an example also to every convenient purpose. And -as Madam <i>Eliza</i> hath done, by recounting occasions happening in another -World, so must we now leape a little further off, even so farre as <i>Naples</i>, -to see how one of those Saint-like Dames, that nicely seemes to shun -Loves 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 error is committed, how to be discreete in keeping -it from publike knowledge.</p> - -<p>In the City of <i>Naples</i>, it being -of great antiquity, and (perhaps) -as pleasantly scituated, as any -other City in all <i>Italie</i>, there -dwelt sometime a young Gentleman, -of noble parentage, and -well knowne to be wealthy, named -<i>Ricciardo Minutolo</i>, 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 <i>Neapolitane</i> women else, in -feature, favour, and the choysest -perfections, shee being named -Madam <i>Catulla</i>, wife to as gallant -a young Gentleman, called <i>Philippello Fighinolfi</i>, who most dearely he loved -beyond all other, for her vertue and admired chastity.</p> - -<p><i>Ricciardo</i> loving this Madam <i>Catulla</i>, and using 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 unlikely 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 advised by some of his best -friends, utterly to abstaine from this fond pursuite, because his hopes were -meerely in vaine, and Madam <i>Catulla</i> prized nothing more precious to -her in the World, then unstayned loyaltie to her Husband; and yet shee -lived in such extreme jealousie of him, as fearing least some bird flying in -the Ayre, should snatch him from her.</p> - -<p><i>Ricciardo</i> not unacquainted with this her jealous humour, as well by -credible hearing thereof, as also by daily observation; 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 ever enjoying -the love of Madam <i>Catulla</i>, because he was now become the servant -to another Gentlewoman, pretending (in her honour) to performe -many worthy actions of Armes, Jousts, Tournaments, and all such like -noble exercises, as he was wont to doe for Madam <i>Catulla</i>. So that almost -all the people of <i>Naples</i>, but especially Madam <i>Catulla</i>, became verily perswaded, -that his former fruitlesse love to her was quite changed, and the -new elected Lady had all the glory of his best endeavours, persevering 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) gave her the dayes salutations, according as -he chanced to see her, or meete her.</p> - -<p>It came to passe, that it being now the delightfull Summer season, -when all Gentlemen and Gentlewomen used to meete together (according -to a custome long observed in that Countrey) sporting along on the -Sea Coast, dining and supping there very often. <i>Ricciardo Minutolo</i> happened -to heare, that Madam <i>Catulla</i> (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 <i>Catulla</i>, where he pretended no willing -long time of tarrying; but that <i>Catulla</i> and the other Ladies were faine to -entreate him, discoursing of his love to his new elected Mistresse: which -<i>Minutolo</i> graced with so solemne a countenance, as it ministred much -more matter of conference, all coveting to know what shee was.</p> - -<p>So farre they walked, and held on this kinde of discoursing, as every -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 <i>Catulla</i> -having few females left with her, stayed behind with <i>Minutolo</i>, who suddenly -shot foorth a word, concerning her husband <i>Philippello</i>, & of his loving -another woman beside her selfe. She that was overmuch jealous before, -became so suddenly set on fire, to know what shee was of whom <i>Minutolo</i> -spake; as shee sate silent a long while, till being able to containe no -longer, shee entreated <i>Ricciardo</i>, even for the Ladies sake, whose love he -had so devoutly embraced, to resolve her certainely, in this strange alteration -of her Husband; whereunto thus he answered.</p> - -<p>Madam, you have so straitly conjured me, by urging 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, untill you have seene by effect, that which I have tolde -you proveth to be true: and when you please, I will instruct you how your -selfe shall see it. The Lady was not a little joyfull, to be thus satisfied in -her Husbands follie, and constantly crediting his words to be true, shee -sware a solemne oath, that no one alive should ever know it. So stepping -a little further aside, because no listening eare should heare him, thus he -beganne.</p> - -<p>Lady, if I did love you now so effectually, as heretofore I have done, -I should be very circumspect, in uttering any thing which I imagined -might distaste you. I know not whether your Husband <i>Philippello</i>, were -at any time offended; because I affected you, or beleeved, that I received -any kindnesse from you: but whether it were so or no, I could never discerne -it by any outward apparance. But now awaiting for the opportunity -of time, which he conceived should affoord me the least suspition; -he seekes to compasse that, which (I doubt) he feares I would have done -to him, in plaine termes Madam, to have his pleasure of my wife. And as -by some carriages I have observed, within few dayes past, he hath solicited -and pursued his purpose very secretly, by many Ambassages, and other -meanes, as (indeede) I have learned from her selfe, and alwayes shee hath -returned in such answers, as shee received by my direction.</p> - -<p>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 have with -her; and shee tolde me it was another pursuite of <i>Philippello Fighinolfi</i>, who -(quoth shee) upon such answers as you have caused me to send him from -time to time, perhaps doth gather some hope of prevailing in the ende, -which maketh him still to importune me as he doth. And now he adventureth -so farre, as to understand my finall intention, having 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 enjoy -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 -frivolous answers; I would (long ere this) have sent him such a message, -as should have beene little to his liking.</p> - -<p>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 perceive, how well -you are rewarded, for the faithfull and loyall love you beare him, and for -which I was even 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) approve 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 themselves, in regard of the heates violence; with which answere -the woman returned very jocondly. Let me now tell you Lady, I hope -you have better opinion of my wit, then any meaning in me, to send my -wife thither; I rather did it to this ende, that having acquainted you with -his treacherous intent, you should supply my wives place, by saving both -his reputation and your owne, and frustrating his unkind purpose to me. -Moreover, upon the view of his owne delusion, wrought by my wife in -meere love to you, he shall see his foule shame, and your most noble care, -to keepe the rites of marriage betweene you still unstained.</p> - -<p>Madame <i>Catulla</i>, having heard this long and unpleasing report; without -any consideration, either what he was that tolde the tale, or what a -treason he intended against her: immediatly (as jealous persons use to -doe) she gave 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 advised her, as being a matter of no difficulty. -But if he came, she would so shame and dishonour him, as no woman -whatsoever should better schoole him. <i>Ricciardo</i> 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 -revealing the matter to any living person, as shee had sworne upon her -faith.</p> - -<p>On the morrow morning, <i>Ricciardo</i> went to an auncient woman of his -acquaintance, who was the Mistresse of a Bathing-house, and there where -he had appointed Madame <i>Catulla</i>, that the Bath should be prepared for -her, giving her to understand the whole businesse, and desiring her to be -favourable 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 <i>Ricciardoes</i> 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 arrivall of Madame -<i>Catulla</i>. On the same day, as she had heard the speeches of <i>Ricciardo</i>, -and gave more credit to them then became her; shee returned home -to her house in wonderfull impatience. And <i>Philippello</i> her husband -came home discontentedly too, whose head being busied about some -worldly affaires, perhaps he looked not so pleasantly, neither used her so -kindly, as he was wont to doe. Which <i>Catulla</i> perceiving, shee was ten -times more suspicious then before, saying to herselfe. Now apparant -trueth doth disclose it selfe, my husbands head is troubled now with -nothing else, but <i>Ricciardoes</i> wife, with whom (to morrow) he purposeth -his meeting; wherein he shall be disappointed, if I live; taking no rest at -all the whole night, for thinking how to handle her husband.</p> - -<p>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 -<i>Philippello</i> were come thither as yet or no? The woman, being well instructed -by <i>Ricciardo</i>, answered: Are you shee that should meete him -heere. Yes, replied <i>Catulla</i>. Goe in then to him (quoth the woman) for -he is not farre off before you.</p> - -<p>Madame <i>Catulla</i>, who went to seeke that which she would not finde, -being brought vailed into the darke Chamber where <i>Ricciardo</i> was, entred -into the Bath, hoping to finde none other there but her husband, -and the custome of the Countrey, never disallowed such meetings of -men with their wives, 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 loving manner; -yet not daring to speake, least he should know her, but suffered him -to proceede in his owne error.</p> - -<p>Let passe the wanton follies passing betweene them, and come to -Madame <i>Catulla</i>, who finding it a fit and convenient 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 love, of -many wives to their husbands? I, a poore miserable Lady, who, for the -space of eight yeares now fully compleated, have loved 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 -<i>Catulla</i>, and not the wife of <i>Ricciardo</i>, trayterous and unfaithfull man, -as thou art. I am sure thou knowest my voyce, and I thinke it a thousand -yeares, untill wee may see each other in the light, to doe thee such -dishonour as thou justly deserveth, dogged, disdainefull, and villainous -wretch. By conceiving to have another woman in thy wanton embraces, -thou hast declared more joviall 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.</p> - -<p>What answere canst thou make, devill, and no man? What, have -my words smitten thee dumbe? Thou mayest (with shame enough) hold -thy peace, for with the face of a man, and love of an husband to his wife, -thou art not able to make any answere.</p> - -<p><i>Ricciardo</i> durst not speake one word, but still expressed his affable behaviour -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 byas from thy reckoning: for -I shall never imagine my selfe halfe satisfied, untill in the presence of -my parents, friends, and neighbours, I have revealed thy base behaviour. -Tell mee, treacherous man, am not I as faire, as the wife of <i>Ricciardo</i>? -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 <i>Ricciardo</i>, who loveth mee -beyond all other women in <i>Naples</i>, and yet could never vaunt, that I gave -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 revenge -soundly upon thee.</p> - -<p>The exclamations of the Lady were so tedious and irksome, that <i>Ricciardo</i> -perceiving, if she continued longer in these complaints, worse would -ensue thereon, then could be easily remedied: resolved to make himselfe -knowne to her, to reclaime her out of this violent extasie, and holding -her somewhat strictly, to prevent her escaping from him, he said. Madam, -afflict your selfe no further, for, what I could not obtaine by simply loving -you, subtilty hath better taught me, and I am your <i>Ricciardo</i>, which -she hearing, and perfectly knowing him by his voyce; shee would have -leapt out of the Bath, but shee could not, and to avoyde her crying out, -he layde his hand on her mouth, saying. Lady, what is done, cannot now -be undone, albeit you cried out all your lifetime. If you exclaime, or -make this knowne openly by any meanes; two unavoydable 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, avouching, that having corrupted you with -gold, and not giving you so much as covetously 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 beleeve the worst, then any goodnesse, -be it never so manifest. Next unto 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 live in any true contentment after. -Wherefore, joy 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 deceived. I have not beguiled -you, to take any honour from you, but onely declared, the faithfull -affection I beare you, and so shall doe for ever, as being your bounden -and most obedient servant; and as it is a long time agoe, since I dedicated -my selfe and all mine to your service, so hence-forth must I remaine -for ever. You are wise enough (I know) in all other things; then -shew your selfe not to be silly or simple in this.</p> - -<p><i>Ricciardo</i> uttered these words, teares streaming aboundantly downe -his cheekes, and Madame <i>Catulla</i> (all the while) likewise showred forth -her sorrowes equally to his, now, although she was exceedingly troubled -in minde, and saw what her owne jealous folly had now brought her to, -a shame beyond all other whatsoever: in the midst of her tormenting -passions, she considered on the words of <i>Ricciardo</i>, found good reason in -them, in regard of the unavoydable evils, whereupon shee thus spake. -<i>Ricciardo</i>, I know not how to beare the horrible injurie, and notorious -treason used by thee against me, grace and goodnesse having 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 devillish jealousie, -did conduct me. But certaine I am of one thing, that I shall never -see any one joyfull day, till (by one meanes or other) I be revenged on -thee. Thou hast glutted thy desire with my disgrace, let me therefore goe -from thee, never more to looke upon my wronged husband, or let any -honest woman ever see my face.</p> - -<p><i>Ricciardo</i> perceiving the extremity of her perplexed minde, used all -manly and milde perswasions, which possibly he could devise to doe, to -turne the torrent of this high tide, to a calmer course; as by outward shew -shee made apparance of, untill (in frightfull feares shunning every one -shee met withall, as arguments of her guiltinesse) shee recovered her -owne house, where remorse so tortured her distressed soule, that shee fell -into so fierce a melancholy, as never left her till shee died. Upon the report -whereof, <i>Ricciardo</i> becomming likewise a widdower, and grieving -extraordinarily for his haynous transgression, penitently betooke himselfe -to live in a wildernesse, where (not long after) he ended his dayes.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Thebaldo_Elisei_having_received_an_unkinde_repulse_by_his_beloved_departed" id="Thebaldo_Elisei_having_received_an_unkinde_repulse_by_his_beloved_departed">Thebaldo Elisei, <i>having received an unkinde repulse by his beloved, 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 unto -her. He delivered her Father from the danger of death, because it was -proved, that he had slaine</i> Thebaldo: <i>he made peace with his brethren, and -in the ende, wisely enjoyed his hearts desire.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The seaventh Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is signified the power of Love, and the diversity of dangers, whereinto -men may daily fall.</i></h4> - - -<p>So ceased <i>Fiammetta</i> her discourse, -being generally commended, -when the Queene, to -prevent the losse of time, commanded -<i>Æmillia</i> 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, recovered the kindnesse -of his Love, after he had -lost it.</p> - -<p>Sometime there dwelt in <i>Florence</i> -a young gentleman, named -<i>Thebaldo Elisei</i>, descended of a -noble House, who became earnestly -enamored of a Widdow, called <i>Hermelina</i>, the daughter to <i>Aldobrandino -Palermini</i>: well deserving, for his vertues and commendable -qualities, to enjoy of her whatsoever he could desire. Secretly they were -espoused together, but Fortune, the enemy to Lovers felicities, opposed -her malice against them, in depriving <i>Thebaldo</i> of those deare delights, -which sometime he held in free possession, and making him as a stranger -to her gracious favours. 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 unkindnesse so wisely to himselfe, as -no one could understand the reason of his sadnesse.</p> - -<p>After he had laboured by all hopefull courses, to obtaine that favour -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 endeavours -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 unhappinesse. Hereupon, storing himselfe with -such summes of money, as suddenly he could collect together, secretly he -departed from <i>Florence</i>, 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 travelled to <i>Ancona</i>, where he termed himselfe by the -name of <i>Sandolescio</i>. Repairing to a wealthy Merchant there, he placed -himselfe as his servant, and went in a Ship of his with him to <i>Cyprus</i>; his -actions and behaviour proved so pleasing to the Merchant, as not onely -he allowed him very sufficient wages, but also grew into such association -with him; as he gave the most of his affaires into his hands, which he guided -with such honest and discreete care, that he himselfe (in few yeeres -compasse) proved to be a rich Merchant, and of famous report.</p> - -<p>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 love, as coveting (above all things else) 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 <i>Cyprus</i>, which he himselfe had formerly made, in -honour of the love he bare to his Mistresse, and what delight he conceived, -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 live, except he had a sight of her once more, and therefore determined -on his returne to <i>Florence</i>. Having set all his affaires in due order, accompanied -with a servant of his onely, he passed to <i>Ancona</i>, where when -he was arrived, he sent his Merchandises to <i>Florence</i>, in name of the Merchant -of <i>Ancona</i>, who was his especiall friend and partner; travayling himselfe -alone with his servant, in the habite of a Pilgrime, as if he had beene -newly returned from <i>Jerusalem</i>.</p> - -<p>Being come to <i>Florence</i>, 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 -up, 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 marvelled not a little; knowing himselfe to be so transfigured, -both in body and habite, farre from the manner of common use -at his parting thence, as it was a difficult matter to know him: he stept -boldly to a Shooe-makers shop neere adjoining, and demanded the reason -of their wearing mourning. The Shoo-maker made answer thus; Sir, -those men are clad in mourning, because a brother of theirs, being named -<i>Thebaldo</i> (who hath beene absent hence a long while) about some fifteene -dayes since was slaine. And they having heard, by proofe made in -the Court of Justice, that one <i>Aldobrandino Palermini</i> (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.</p> - -<p><i>Thebaldo</i> wondered greatly hereat, imagining, that some man belike resembling -him in shape, might be slaine in this manner, and by <i>Aldobrandino</i>, -for whose misfortune he grieved marvellously. As concerning his -Mistresse, he understood that shee was living, 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 divers persons -over 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 have heard it assuredly, that the death of <i>Thebaldo Elisei</i>, hath -beene sufficiently approved by the Brethren, against <i>Aldobrandino Palermini</i>, -and he hath confessed the fact; whereupon the sentence is already -set downe in writing. But yet it behoveth us notwithstanding, to conceale -it very secretly, because if ever hereafter it should be knowne, that -we are they who murthered him, we shall be in the same danger, as now -<i>Aldobrandino</i> is.</p> - -<p>When <i>Thebaldo</i> 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 upon the testimony of as false witnesses) a man most innocent, -making him ready for the stroke of death. Next, he made a strict observation -in his soule, concerning the blinded severity 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 avouched (onely for ease of paine) in the place of a true confession, -yet thinking themselves (by doing so) to be the Ministers of God and Justice, -whereas indeede they are the Divels executioners of his wickednesse. -Lastly, converting his thoughts to <i>Aldobrandino</i>, the imagined murtherer -of a man yet living, infinite cares beleagured his soule, in devising -what might best be done for his deliverance.</p> - -<p>So soone as he was risen in the morning, leaving his servant 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) moved 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 up 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 <i>Constantinople</i>, and (doubtlesse) am conducted hither by the hand -of Heaven, to convert your teares into rejoycing, and to deliver your Father -from death. How is this? answered shee: If thou be of <i>Constantinople</i>, -and art but now arrived here; doest thou know who we are, either I, -or my Father?</p> - -<p>The Pilgrime discoursed to her, even 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 deliver her Father <i>Aldobrandino</i> from death, to doe it -speedily, because the time was very short. The Pilgrime appearing to be -a man of great holinesse, saide. Rise up Madam, refraine from weeping, -and observe attentively what I shall say; yet with this caution, that you -never reveale it to any person whatsoever. This tribulation whereinto -you are falne, (as by revelation I am faithfully informed) is for a grievous -sinne by you heretofore committed, whereof divine 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 recovery, 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 have 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 have already: but because -in revealing it yourselfe, it may touch you with the more true -compunction of soule; let us goe to the point indeede, and tell me, doe -you remember, that at any time you were married to an Husband, -or no?</p> - -<p>At the hearing of these words, shee breathed foorth a very vehement -sigh, and was stricken with admiration at this question, beleeving that not -any one had knowledge thereof. Howbeit, since the day of the supposed -<i>Thebaldoes</i> buriall, such a rumour ran abroade, by meanes of some speeches, -rashly dispersed by a friend of <i>Thebaldoes</i>, who (indeede) knew it; -whereupon shee returned him this answere. It appeareth to me (good -man) that divine ordinativation hath revealed unto 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 unfortunate young Gentleman, who (in secret) was my Husband, -and whose death is imposed on my Father. The death of him I -have the more bemoaned, because (in reason) it did neerely concerne -me, by shewing my selfe so savage and rigorous to him before his departure: -neverthelesse, let me assure you Sir, that neither his parting, long absence -from me, or his untimely death, never had the power to bereave -my heart of his remembrance.</p> - -<p>Madame, saide the Pilgrime, the unfortunate young Gentleman that -is slaine, did never love you; but sure I am, that <i>Thebaldo Elisei</i> loved -you dearely. But tell me, what was the occasion whereby you conceived -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 revealed -(under confession) how faithfully I affected him, and what private -familiarity had passed betweene us. When instantly he used such -dreadfull threatnings to me, and which (even yet) doe afflict my soule, -that if I did not abstaine, and utterly refuse him, the Divell would fetch -me quicke to Hell, and cast me into the bottome of his quenchlesse and -everlasting fire.</p> - -<p>These menaces were so prevailing with me, as I refused all further conversation -with <i>Thebaldo</i>, in which regard, I would receive 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, even 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 allowed -me one merry day, neither did I, or ever can love any man like unto -him.</p> - -<p>At these wordes the Pilgrime sighed, and then proceeded on againe -thus. Surely Madam, this one onely sin, may justly torment you, because -I know for a certainty, that <i>Thebaldo</i> never offered you any injury, since -the day he first became enamoured of you; and what grace or favour -you affoorded him, was your owne voluntary gift, and (as he tooke it) no -more then in modesty might well become you; for he loving you first, -you had beene most cruell and unkinde, if you should not have requited -him with the like affection. If then he continued so just and loyall to you, -as (of mine owne knowledge) I am able to say he did; what should move -you to repulse him so rudely? Such matters ought well to be considered -on before hand; for if you did imagine, that you should repente 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 unfitting thing for you to doe, except -you had gone with his consent?</p> - -<p>Now Madam, let me further give you to understand, 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 unseeming for me to doe it, -as it would appeare ugly 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 have done. In former passed times -such as professed Religion, were learned and most holy persons; but our -religious professours now adayes, and such as covet to be so esteemed; -have 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 devotion, 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 have their pride -more notoriously observed. And as the Angler bestoweth his best cunning, -with one line and baite to catch many fishes at one strike; even 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 whatsoever they doe or say, and herein they doe -most of all excercise themselves.</p> - -<p>And to the end, that my speeches may not savour of any untruth against -them; these men which I speake of, have 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 salvation of mens soules; these fresher -witted fellowes, covet after women & wealth, and employ all their paines -by their whispering confessions, and figures of painted fearefull examples, -to affright and terrifie unsetled 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 devotion, then any true compunction of heart, to escape severe -penances by them enjoyned: 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.</p> - -<p>I make not any doubt, but Almes-deedes and prayers, are very mighty, -and prevailing meanes, to appease heavens anger for some sinnes -committed; but if such as bestow them, did either see or know, to whom -they give them: they would more warily keepe them, or else cast them -before Swine, in regard they are altogether so unworthy of them. But -come we now to the case of your ghostly father, crying out in your eare, -that secret mariage was a most greevous sinne: Is not the breach thereof -farre greater. Familiar conversation betweene man and woman, is a concession -meerely naturall: but to rob, kill, or banish anyone, proceedeth -from the mindes malignity. That you did rob <i>Thebaldo</i>, your selfe hath -already sufficiently witnessed, by taking that from him, which with free -consent in mariage you gave 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 whosoever 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 seaven yeares in exile thorow the world; you -cannot denie, but that you were the onely occasion thereof. In all which -three severall actions, farre more capitally have you offended; then by -contracting of mariage in such clandestine manner.</p> - -<p>But let us see, whether <i>Thebaldo</i> deserved all these severall castigations, -or not. In trueth he did not, your selfe have confessed (beside that -which I know) that hee loved you more dearely then himselfe, and nothing -could be more honoured, magnified and exalted, then dayly you -were by him, above all other women whatsoever. 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, envying -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, understanding -truly what they are, and what nobility of nature God hath endued -man withall, farre above 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.</p> - -<p>This is so great a sinne, as the divine Justice (which in an equal ballance -bringeth all operations to their full effect) did purpose not to leave unpunished; -but, as you enforced against all reason, to take away <i>Thebaldo</i> -from your selfe: even so your Father <i>Aldobrandino</i>, without any occasion -given by <i>Thebaldo</i>, is in perill of his life, and you a partaker of his tribulation. -Out of which if you desire to be delivered, it is very convenient that -you promise one thing which I shall tell you, and may much better be by -you performed. Namely, that if <i>Thebaldo</i> doe at any time returne from -his long banishment, you shall restore him to your love, grace, and good -acceptation; accounting him in the selfe same degree of favour and private -entertainement, as he was at the first, before your wicked ghostly father -so hellishly incensed you against him.</p> - -<p>When the Pilgrime had finished his speeches, the Gentlewoman, who -had listened to them very attentively (because all the alleaged 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 undoubtedly, that the words which you have spoken -are true, and also I understand by your demonstration, what manner of -people some of those religious persons are, whom heretofore I have reputed -to be Saints, but find them now to be far otherwise. And to speake -truly, I perceive the fault to be great and grievous, wherein I have offended -against <i>Thebaldo</i>, and would (if I could) willingly make amends, even -in such manner as you have advised. But how is it possible to be done? -<i>Thebaldo</i> 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.</p> - -<p>Madam, by such revelations as have beene shewne to me, I know for -a certainety, that <i>Thebaldo</i> is not dead, but living, in health, and in good -estate; if he had the fruition of your grace and favour. Take heede what -you say Sir (quoth the Gentlewoman) for I saw him lie slaine before my -doore, his body having received 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. Beleeve me Madam, -(replied the Pilgrime) say what you will, I dare assure you that <i>Thebaldo</i> -is living, and if you dare make promise, concerning what hath beene formerly -requested, and keepe it inviolably; 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 never could any -thing happen, to yeeld me the like contentment, as to see my Father free -from danger, and <i>Thebaldo</i> living.</p> - -<p>At this instant <i>Thebaldo</i> thought it to be a very apt and convenient time -to disclose himselfe, and to comfort the Lady, with an assured signall of -hope, for the deliverance 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 ever being revealed -to the world. They were then in a place of sufficient privacy, and -alone by themselves, because shee reposed great confidence in the Pilgrimes -sanctity of life, as thinking him none other, then as he seemed to -be. <i>Thebaldo</i> tooke out of his Purse a Ring, which shee gave him, the last -night of their conversing 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 gave it unto <i>Thebaldo</i>.</p> - -<p>Hereupon the Pilgrime stood up, and suddenly putting off his poore -linnen Frocke, as also the Hood from his head; using then his <i>Florentine</i> -tongue, he saide. Then tell me Madam, doe you not know me? When -shee had advisedly beheld him, and knew him indeede to be <i>Thebaldo</i>; 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 <i>Thebaldo</i> -so lately come from <i>Cyprus</i>: but (in terror) fled away from him; as if <i>Thebaldo</i> -had beene newly risen out of his grave, and came thither purposely -to affright her; wherefore he saide. Be not afraide Madam, I am your -<i>Thebaldo</i>, in health, alive, and never as yet died, neither have I received -any wounds to kill mee, as you and my bretheren have formerly imagined.</p> - -<p>Some better assurance getting possession of her soule, as knowing -him perfectly by his voyce, and looking more stedfastly on his face, which -constantly avouched him to be <i>Thebaldo</i>; 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; <i>Thebaldo</i>, my true -and faithfull Husband, nothing in the World can be so welcome to me. -<i>Thebaldo</i> having most kindly kissed and embraced her, said; Sweete wife, -time will not now allow us those ceremonious curtesies, which (indeede) -so long a separation doe justly challenge; but I must about a more weightie -businesse, to have your Father safe and soundly delivered, 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 will see you againe to night, and acquaint -you at better leysure, in such things as I cannot doe now at this present.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Aldobrandino</i> lay, whom he found more pensive, 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 favour, as seeming -to be a man, come onely to comfort him; sitting downe by him, thus he -began. <i>Aldobrandino</i>, I am a friend of thine, whom Heaven hath sent to -doe thee good, in meere pitty and compassion of thine innocency. And -therefore, if thou wilt grant me one small request, which I am earnestly -to crave 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 <i>Aldobrandino</i> thus answered. -Friendly man, seeing thou art so carefull of my safety (although I know -thee not, neither doe remember that ever 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 never committed the sinfull deede, for which I -am condemned to death. Most true it is, I have other heynous and grievous -sinnes, which (undoubtedly) have throwne this heavy judgement -upon me, and therefore I am the more willing to undergoe it. Neverthelesse, -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 whatsoever thou pleasest of me, for -unfainedly (if I escape with life) I will truly keepe promise with thee.</p> - -<p>Sir, replied the Pilgrime, I desire nor demand any thing of you, but -that you wold pardon the foure brethren of <i>Thebaldo</i>, who have 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, -upon their craving pardon for what they have done. Sir, answered <i>Aldobrandino</i>, -no man knoweth how sweete revenge 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 Heaven; I freelie -forgive them, and henceforth pardon them for ever; intending moreover, -that if mercy give me life, and cleere me from this bloody imputation, -to love and respect them so long as I shall live. 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 deliverance.</p> - -<p>At his departing from him, he went directly to the <i>Signoria</i>, and prevailed -so farre, that he spake privately 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 have committed no foule offence, -should not be punished, but onely the guilty and haynous transgressors. -And because it will be no meane honour to you, to lay the blame -where it worthily deserveth; I am come hither purposely, to informe you -in a case of most weighty importance. It is not unknowne to you, with -what rigour the State hath proceeded against <i>Aldobrandino Palermini</i>, -and you thinke verily he is the man that hath slaine <i>Thebaldo Elisei</i>, whereupon -your law hath condemned him to dye. I dare assure you Sir, that a -very unjust course hath beene taken in this case, because <i>Aldobrandino</i> is -falsly accused, as you your selfe will confesse before midnight, when they -are delivered into your power, that were the murderers of the man.</p> - -<p>The honest Knight, who was very sorrowfull for <i>Aldobrandino</i>, gladly -gave attention to the Pilgrime, and having conferred on many matters, -appertaining to the fact committed: the two brethren, who were -<i>Thebaldoes</i> Hostes, and their Chamber-mayd, upon good advise given, -were apprehended in their first sleepe, without any resistance made in -their defence. But when the tortures were sent for, to understand 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 <i>Thebaldo Elisei</i>. And when it was demanded -of them, upon what occasion they did so foule an act. They answered, -that they were so hatefull against the mans life, because he would -luxuriously have abused one of their wives, when they both were absent -from their owne home.</p> - -<p>When the Pilgrime had heard this their voluntary confession, hee -tooke his leave of the Knight, returning secretly to the house of Madame -<i>Hermelina</i>, 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 <i>Thebaldo</i>, when, sitting -downe by her, hee said. Deare Love, be of good cheare, for (upon my -word) to morrow you shall have your father home safe, well, and delivered -from all further danger: and to confirme her the more confidently -in his words, hee declared at large the whole carriage of the businesse. -<i>Hermelina</i> being wondrously joyfull, for two such suddaine and succesfull -accidents to enjoy her husband alive and in health, and also to have her -father freed from so great a danger; kissed and embraced him most affectionately, -welcomming him lovingly into her bed, whereto so long time -he had beene a stranger.</p> - -<p>No sooner did bright day appeare, but <i>Thebaldo</i> arose, having 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 convenient -opportunity, for attending on the businesse belonging to <i>Aldobrandino</i>. -At the usuall houre appointed, the Lords were all set in the -<i>Signioria</i>, and had received full information, concerning the offence imputed -to <i>Aldobrandino</i>: 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 <i>Aldobrandino</i> being released, to his exceeding comfort, and no -small joy of his daughters, kindred and friends, all knowing perfectly, -that this had happened by the Pilgrimes meanes: they conducted him -home to <i>Aldobrandinoes</i> house, where they desired him to continue so -long as himselfe pleased, using him with most honourable and gracious -respect; but especially <i>Hermelina</i>, who knew (better then the rest) on -whom shee bestowed her liberall favours, yet concealing all closely to -her selfe.</p> - -<p>After two or three dayes were over-past, in these complementall entercoursings -of kindnesse, <i>Thebaldo</i> began to consider, that it was high -time for reconciliation, to be solemnely past betweene his brethren and -<i>Aldobrandino</i>. For, they were not a little amazed at his strange deliverance, -and went likewise continually armed, as standing in feare of <i>Aldobrandino</i> -and his friends; which made him the more earnest, for accomplishment -of the promise formerly made unto him. <i>Aldobrandino</i> lovingly -replied, that he was ready to make good his word. Whereupon, -the Pilgrime provided a goodly Banquet, whereat he purposed to have -present, <i>Aldobrandino</i>, his daughter, kindred, and their wives. But first, -himselfe would goe in person, to invite them in peace to his Banquet, to -performe this desired pacification, and conferred with his brethren, using -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 prevailing -with them, that they willingly condiscended, and thought it no -disparagement to them, for the recoverie of <i>Aldobrandinoes</i> kindnesse -againe, to crave pardon for their great error committed.</p> - -<p>On the morrow following, about the houre of dinner time, the foure -brethren of <i>Thebaldo</i>, attired in their mourning garments, with their -wives and friends, came first to the house of <i>Aldobrandino</i>, who purposely -attended for them, and having layd downe their weapons on the -ground: in the presence of all such, as <i>Aldobrandino</i> had invited as his -witnesses, they offered themselves to his mercy, and humbly required -pardon of him, for the matter wherein they had offended him. <i>Aldobrandino</i>, -shedding teares, most lovingly embraced them, and (to bee -briefe) pardon whatsoever injuries he had received. After this, the sisters -and wives, all clad in mourning, courteously submitted themselves, and -were graciously welcommed by Madame <i>Hermelina</i>, as also divers 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 deserved their due commendation, but onely sad silence, occasioned -by the fresh remembrance of sorrow, appearing in the habites of <i>Thebaldoes</i> -friends and kindred, which the Pilgrime himselfe plainely perceived, -to be the onely disgrace to him and his feast. Wherefore, as before hee -had resolved, when time served to purge away this melancholly; hee -arose from the Table, when some (as yet) had scarce begun to eate, and -thus spake.</p> - -<p>Gracious company, there is no defect in this Banquet, or more debarres -it of the honour it might else have, but onely the presence of <i>Thebaldo</i>, -who having 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, uncasing 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 -perceiving, 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, every one hugging and embracing -him, yea, many beside, who were no kin at all to him, <i>Hermelina</i> onely excepted, -which when <i>Aldobrandino</i> saw, he said unto her. How now <i>Hermelina</i>? -Why doest thou not welcome home <i>Thebaldo</i>, so kindely as all -here else have done?</p> - -<p>She making a modest courtesie to her Father, and answering so loude -as every one might heare her, said. There is not any in this assembly, that -more willingly would give him all expression of a joyfull welcom home, -and thankfull gratitude for such especiall favours received, 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 <i>Thebaldo</i>, which slander was to my great discredit. Goe on -boldly, replied <i>Aldobrandino</i>, doest thou thinke that I regard any such -praters? In the procuring of my deliverance, hee hath approved them to -be manifest liers, albeit I my selfe did never credit them. Goe then I command -thee, and let me see thee both kisse and embrace him. She who desired -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 -unfeigned love to <i>Thebaldo</i>. These bountifull favours of <i>Aldobrandino</i>, -were joyfully accepted by <i>Thebaldoes</i> brethren, as also every one else there -present in company; so that all former rancour and hatred, which had -caused heavy variances betweene them, was now converted to mutuall -kindnesse, and solemne friendship on every side.</p> - -<p>When the feasting dayes were finished, the garments of sad mourning -were quite layde aside, and those, becomming so generall a joy, put on, to -make their hearts and habites suteable. Now, concerning the man slaine, -and supposed to be <i>Thebaldo</i>, hee was one, that in all parts of body, and -truenesse of complexion so neerely resembled him, as <i>Thebaldoes</i> owne -brethren could not distinguish the one from the other: but hee was of -<i>Lunigiana</i>, named <i>Fatinolo</i>, and not <i>Thebaldo</i>, whom the two brethren -Inne-keepers maliced, about some idle suspition conceived, and having -slaine him, layde his body at the doore of <i>Aldobrandino</i>, where, by the reason -of <i>Thebaldoes</i> absence, it was generally reputed to be he, and <i>Aldobrandino</i> -charged to doe the deede, by vehement perswasion of the brethren, -knowing what love had passed betweene him and his daughter -<i>Hermelina</i>. 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 carriage of the Pilgrime, untill hee plainely approved himselfe, -to be truly <i>Thebaldo</i>.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Ferando_by_drinking_a_certaine_kinde_of_Powder_was_buried_for_dead_And" id="Ferando_by_drinking_a_certaine_kinde_of_Powder_was_buried_for_dead_And">Ferando, <i>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 Grave, -and put into a darke prison, where they made him beleeve, 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.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The eight Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is displayed, the apparant folly of jealousie: And the subtilty of some -religious carnall minded men, to beguile silly and simple maried men.</i></h4> - - -<p>When the long discourse -of Madame <i>Æmilia</i> 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 -<i>Lauretta</i>, giving 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 alive. In -which respect, I am now to let you know, how a living man was buried -for dead, and being raised againe, yet not as living, himselfe, and divers -more beside, did beleeve that he came forth of his grave, and adored him -as a Saint, who was the occasion thereof, and who (as a bad man) deserved -justly to be condemned.</p> - -<p>In <i>Tuscanie</i> 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, save 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 <i>Ferando</i>, dwelt as a neere -neighbour to the said Abby, hee being a man materiall, of simple and -grosse understanding, yet he fell into great familiarity with the Abbot; -who made use of this friendly conversation to no other end, but for divers -times of recreation; when he delighted to smile at his silly and sottish behaviour.</p> - -<p>Upon this his private frequentation with the Abbot, at last he observed, -that <i>Ferando</i> had a very beautifull woman to his wife, with whom he -grew so deepely in love, as hee had no other meditations either by day or -night, but how to become acceptable in her favour. Neverthelesse, he concealed -his amorous passions privately to himselfe, and could plainely perceive, -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 loving his wife, keeping her carefully out of all company, -as one (indeede) very jealous, least any should kisse her, but onely -himselfe, which drove the Abbot into despaire, for ever attaining the issue -of his desire. Yet being subtill, crafty, and cautelous, he wrought so -on the flexible nature of <i>Ferando</i>, that hee brought his wife with him divers -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 mervailous civill -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 <i>Ferando</i> tooke as an especiall -favour, and therefore he gave his consent the sooner.</p> - -<p>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 given me such an husband as I have, or else had bestowed on me -none at all; I might have beene so happy, by the meanes of your holy doctrine, -very easily to have entred into the way, whereof you spake the other -day, which leadeth to eternall life. But when I consider with my selfe, -what manner of man <i>Ferando</i> is, and thinke upon his folly withall; I may -well terme my selfe to be a widdow, although I am a maried wife, because -while he liveth, I cannot have any other husband. And yet (as sottish -as you see him) he is (without any occasion given him) so extreamely jealous -of me; as I am not able to live 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 advise 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.</p> - -<p>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 use of common understanding; -but yet subject to a more hellish affliction then all these, namely jealousie, -and therefore you being in this wofull manner tormented, your tribulations -are not only so much the more credited, but also as amply grieved -for, & pittied. In which heavy and irksome 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 jealousie; which medicine is very familiar -to me, because I know best how to compound it, alwayes provided, -that you can be of so strong a capacity, as to be secret in what I shall say -unto you.</p> - -<p>Good Father (answered the Woman) never make you any doubt -thereof, for I would rather endure death it selfe, then disclose any thing -which you enjoyne 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 have him perfectly cured, of a disease so dangerous and offensive, -of necessity he must be sent into Purgatory. How may that be -done, saide the woman, he being alive? 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 jealousie, we have -certaine devoute and zealous prayers, whereby to bring him backe againe -to life, in as able manner as ever 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 heavens will therewith be highly offended: but -<i>Ferando</i> being returned to life againe, you must repossesse him as your -Husband, but never to be jealous any more. Alas Sir (quoth the woman) -so that he may be cured of his wicked jealousie, and I no longer live in -such an hellish imprisonment, doe as you please.</p> - -<p>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 have done it? Father, saide shee, whatsoever -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, even 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 love, and the kinde embracing of your person; because -so violent are mine affections, as I pine and consume away daily, till -I enjoy the fruition of my desires, and none can help me therein but you.</p> - -<p>When the woman heard these words, as one confounded with much -amazement, this shee replied. Alas, holy Father! what a strange motion -have you made to me? I beleeved very faithfully, that you were no lesse -then a Saint, and is it convenient, that when silly women come to aske -counsell of such sanctified men, they should returne them such unfitting -answeres? Be not amazed good woman, saide the Abbot, at the motion -which I have made unto you, because holinesse is not thereby impaired a -jot in me; for it is the inhabitant of the soule, the other is an imperfection -attending on the body: but be it whatsoever, your beauty hath so powerfully -prevailed on me, that entire love hath compelled me to let you -know it. And more may you boast of your beauty, then any that ever I -beheld before, considering, it is so pleasing to a sanctified man, that it -can draw him from divine contemplations, to regard a matter of so -humble an equalitie.</p> - -<p>Let me tell you moreover, woorthy Woman, that you see me reverenced -here as Lord Abbot, yet am I but as other men are, and in regard -I am neither aged, nor misshapen, me thinkes the motion I have -made, should be the lesse offensive to you, and therefore the sooner -granted. For, all the while as <i>Ferando</i> 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 privy to -our close meetings, for I carrie the same holy opinion among all men, -as you your selfe conceived of me, and none dare be so saucie, as to -call in question whatsoever 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 enjoy -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 Jewels, which shall be all yours, if you please in -favour to be mine; wherein I will not be gaine-saide, except your selfe -doe denie me.</p> - -<p>The Woman having 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 over-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 never ceased, but allured her still to beleeve -whatsoever 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, untill <i>Ferando</i> were first sent into Purgatory. And till then -(quoth the Abbot) I will not urge 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 come hither once more to converse with -me. So putting a faire gold Ring on her finger, they parted till their next -meeting.</p> - -<p>Not a little joyfull was the Woman of so rich a gift, hoping to enjoy -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, <i>Ferando</i> went -to the Abbye againe, and so soone as the Abbot espyed him, hee presently -prepared for his sending of him into Purgatorie. He never was -without a certaine kinde of drugge, which being beaten into powder, -would worke so powerfully upon the braine, and all the other vitall sences, -as to entrance them with a deadly sleepe, and deprive them of all -motion, either in the pulses, or any other part else, even as if the body -were dead indeede; in which operation it would so hold and continue, -according to the quantity given 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 upon his Novices, sending -them into Purgatory when he pleased, and by such punishments as -he inflicted on them there, made them (like credulous asses) beleeve whatsoever -himselfe listed.</p> - -<p>So much of this powder had the Abbot provided, as should suffice for -three dayes entrauncing, and having compounded it with a very pleasant -Wine, calling <i>Ferando</i> into his Chamber, there gave it him to drinke, -and afterward walked with him about the Cloyster, in very friendly conference -together, the silly sot never dreaming on the treachery intended -against him. Many Monkes beside were recreating themselves in the -Cloyster, most of them delighting to behold the follies of <i>Ferando</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>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 revive him againe; alleaging that some -fume or vapour in the stomacke, had thus over-awed his understanding -faculties, and quite deprived 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 used such perswasions to the -Monkes, that they all beleeved 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.</p> - -<p>The Abbot (cloathed as he was) laide him in a hollow vault under a -Tombe, such as there are used in stead of Graves; 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 never -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 -unto her.</p> - -<p>From the City of <i>Bologna</i>, that very instant day, a well staide and -governed Monke there arrived, 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 <i>Ferando</i> out of the -vault, carried him into a darke dungeon or prison, which he termed by -the name of Purgatory, and where hee used to discipline his Monkes, -when they had committed any notorious offence, deserving to be -punished in Purgatory. There they tooke off his usuall wearing -garments, and cloathed him in the habite of a Monke, even as if he had -beene one of the house; and laying him on a bundle of straw, so left him -untill his sences should be restored againe. On the day following, late -in the evening, 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 pensive, which by his wonted perswasions, -indifferently he appeased; challenging the benefit of her promise. Shee -being thus alone, not hindered by her Husbands jealousie, and espying -another goodly gold Ring on his finger, how frailety and folly over-ruled -her, I know not, shee was a weake woman, he a divelish deluding man; -and the strongest holdes by over-long battery and besieging, must needes -yeeld at the last, as I feare shee did: for very often afterward, the Abbot -used in this manner to visit her, and the simple ignorant Countrey people, -carrying no such ill opinion of the holy Abbot, and having seene <i>Ferando</i> -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 <i>Ferando</i>, who -walked in this manner after his death, as a just pennance for his jealousie.</p> - -<p>When <i>Ferandoes</i> sences were recovered 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 <i>Bologna</i> -(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 <i>Ferando</i>, he stript off his cloathes, and began to lash him -very soundly. <i>Ferando</i> roaring and crying, could say nothing else, but, -where am I? The Monke (with a dreadfull voyce) replyed: Thou art in -Purgatory. How? saide <i>Ferando</i>; what? Am I dead? Thou art dead (quoth -the Monke) and began to lash him lustily againe. Poore <i>Ferando</i>, 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 <i>Ferando</i> -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 have Masses devoutly 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.</p> - -<p><i>Ferando</i> having 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 loving Wife, long mayest thou live for this extraordinary -kindnesse. I promise thee (sweete heart) while I was alive, I cannot -remember, that ever 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, using her so villainously in thy life time? -Then did he whip him more fiercely then before, when <i>Ferando</i> holding -up his hands, as craving for mercy, demanded wherefore he was so severely -punished? I am so commanded (quoth the Monke) by supreme -power, and twice every day must thou be thus disciplinde. Upon what -occasion? replyed <i>Ferando</i>. Because (quoth the Monke) thou wast most -notoriously jealous of thy Wife, shee being the very kindest woman to -thee, as all the Countrey containeth not her equall. It is too true, answered -<i>Ferando</i>, I was over-much jealous of her indeede: but had I knowne, -that jealousie was such a hatefull sinne against Heaven, I never would -have offended therein.</p> - -<p>Now (quoth the Monke) thou canst confesse thine owne wilfull follie, -but this should have beene thought on before, and whilest thou wast living -in the World. But if the Fates vouchsafe to favour 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 jealousie. -I pray you Sir tell me, replyed <i>Ferando</i>, after men are dead, and put into -Purgatory, is there any hope of their ever visiting the World any more? -Yes, saide the Monke, if the fury of the Fates be once appeased. O that I -knew (quoth <i>Ferando</i>) by what meanes they would be appeased, and let -me visite the World once againe: I would be the best Husband that ever -lived, and never more be jealous, never wrong so good a Wife, nor ever -use one unkind word against her. In the meane while, and till their anger -may be qualified; when next my Wife doth send me foode, I pray you -worke so much, that some Candles may be sent me also, because I live -here in uncomfortable darknesse; and what should I doe with foode, if I -have no light. Shee sends Lights enow, answered the Monke, but they -are burnt out on the Altar in Masse-time, and thou canst have 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.</p> - -<p><i>Ferando</i> 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 <i>Sardignia</i>, where I served a very -jealous Master; and because I soothed him in his jealousie, I had this pennance -imposed on me, to serve thee here in Purgatory with meate and -drinke, and (twice every day) to discipline thy body, untill the Fates have -otherwise determined both for thee and me. Why? saide <i>Ferando</i>, 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 us. But how farre, saide <i>Ferando</i>, is Purgatory distant -from our native Countries? About some fifty thousand leagues, -answered the Monke; but yet passable in a moment, whensoever 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 conversion; and becomming -a new man, hating to be jealous any more hereafter.</p> - -<p>In these and such like speeches, as thus they beguiled the time, so did -they observe 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 <i>Ferandoes</i> wife, without -the least suspition in any of the neighbours, by reason of their setled opinion, -concerning the nightly walking of <i>Ferandoes</i> ghost. But, as all pleasures -cannot bee exempted from some following paine or other, so it -came to passe, that <i>Ferandoes</i> wife proved to be conceived with childe, -and the time was drawing on for her deliverance. Now began the Abbot -to consider, that <i>Ferandoes</i> folly was sufficiently chastised, and hee -had beene long enough in Purgatory: wherefore, the better to countenance -all passed inconveniences, it was now thought high time, that <i>Ferando</i> -should be sent to the world againe, and set free from the paines of -Purgatory, as having payed for his jealousie dearely, to teach him better -wisedome hereafter.</p> - -<p>Late in the dead time of the night the Abbot himselfe entred into the -darke dungeon, and in an hollow counterfeited voyce, called to <i>Ferando</i>, -saying. Comfort thy selfe <i>Ferando</i>, for the Fates are now pleased, that -thou shalt bee released out of Purgatory, and sent to live in the world -againe. Thou didst leave thy wife newly conceived with childe, and this -very morning she is delivered of a goodly Sonne, whom thou shalt cause -to be named <i>Bennet</i>: because, by the incessant prayers of the holy Abbot, -thine owne loving wife, and for sweet Saint <i>Bennets</i> sake, this grace -and favour is afforded thee. <i>Ferando</i> hearing this, was exceeding joyfull, -and returned this answere: For ever honoured be the Fates, the holy -Lord Abbot, blessed Saint <i>Bennet</i>, and my most dearely beloved wife, -whom I will faithfully love for ever, and never more offend her by any -jealousie in me.</p> - -<p>When the next foode was sent to <i>Ferando</i>, so much of the powder -was mingled with the wine, as would serve 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 -<i>Bologna</i>, conveying and laying him in the same vault under the Tombe, -where at the first they gave him buriall. The next morning following, -about the breake of day, <i>Ferando</i> recovered his sences, and thorow divers -chinkes and crannies of the Tombe, descried day-light, which hee -had not seene in tenne moneths space before. Perceiving then plainely, -that he was alive, he cried out aloude, saying: Open, open, and let mee -forth of Purgatory, for I have beene heere long enough in conscience. -Thrusting up his head against the cover 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 upon his feete: at which instant time, the Monks -having ended their morning Mattins, and hearing the noyse, ran in hast -thither, and knowing the voyce of <i>Ferando</i>, saw that he was come forth of -the Monument.</p> - -<p>Some of them were ancient Signiors of the house, and yet but meere -Novices (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 have pleased to shew in our Convent, therefore be silent, -and make no more noise; all which was performed according to his -command.</p> - -<p><i>Ferando</i> looking leane and pale, as one, that in so long time hadde not -seene the light of heaven, and endured such strict discipline twice everie -day: stood in a gastly amazement by the Tombes side, as not daring to -adventure any further, or knowing perfectly, whether he was (as yet) truly -alive, 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 feete, saying. Holy Father, by your zealous -prayers (as hath bin miraculously revealed to me) and the prayers of -blessed S. <i>Bennet</i>; as also of my honest, deare, and loving Wife, I have -bin delivered from the paines of Purgatory, and brought againe to live in -this world; for which unspeakable grace and favour, most humbly I thank -the well-pleased Fates, S. <i>Bennet</i>, your Father-hood, and my kinde Wife, -and will remember all your loves to me for ever. 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 have bin so gracious to thee; -Go (I say) home to thine owne house, and comfort thy kind wife, who ever -since thy departure out of this life, hath lived in continual mourning, -love, cherish, and make much of her, never afflicting her henceforth with -causelesse jealousie. No I warrant you good Father, replyed <i>Ferando</i>; I -have 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 loving -wife, or any other.</p> - -<p>The Abbot causing <i>Miserere</i> to be devoutly sung, sprinkling <i>Ferando</i> -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 severall names, telling them, that hee was -newly risen out of his grave, and was a man as he had bin before. Then -they began to touch and feele him, growing into more certaine assurance -of him, perceiving him to be a living 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 (neverthelesse) they beleeved.</p> - -<p>Then he told them what the miraculous voice had said unto him, concerning -the birth of another young Sonne, whom (according as he was -commanded) he caused to be named <i>Bennet Ferando</i>. 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 <i>Ferandoes</i> happy curing of his jealousie.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Juliet_of_Narbona_cured_the_King_of_France_of_a_daungerous_Fistula_in_recompence" id="Juliet_of_Narbona_cured_the_King_of_France_of_a_daungerous_Fistula_in_recompence">Juliet of Narbona, <i>cured the King of France of a daungerous Fistula, in recompence -whereof, she requested to enjoy as her husband in marriage,</i> Bertrand -<i>the Count of</i> Roussillion. <i>Hee having married her against his will, as -utterly despising her, went to Florence, where he made love to a young Gentlewoman.</i> -Juliet, <i>by a queint and cunning policy, compassed the meanes (insted -of his chosen new friend) to lye with her owne husband, by whom shee -conceived, and had two Sonnes; which being afterward made knowne unto -Count</i> Bertrand, <i>he accepted her into his favour again, and loved her as his -loyall and honourable wife.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The Ninth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Commending the good judgement and understanding in Ladies or Gentlewomen, -that are of a quicke and apprehensive spirit.</i></h4> - - -<p>Now there remained no more -(to preserve the priviledge -granted to <i>Dioneus</i> uninfringed) -but the Queene onely, to declare -her Novell. Wherefore, when -the discourse of Madam <i>Lauretta</i> -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 liking, -having heard the rare and wittie -discourse of Madame <i>Lauretta</i>? -Beleeve me, it was verie advantageable -to us all, that she was not -this dayes first beginner, because -few or none would have had any courage to follow after her, & therefore -the rest yet remaining, are the more to be feared and suspected. Neverthelesse, -to avoid the breach of order, and to claime no priviledge by my -place, of not performing what I ought to do: prove as it may, a Tale you -must have, and thus I proceed.</p> - -<p>There lived sometime in the kingdom of <i>France</i>, a Gentleman named -<i>Isnarde</i>, being the Count of <i>Roussillion</i>, who because hee was continually -weake, crazie and sickly, kept a Physitian daily in his house, who was called -Master <i>Gerard</i> of <i>Narbona</i>. Count <i>Isnarde</i> had one onely Sonne, very -young in yeares, yet of towardly hope, faire, comely, and of pleasing -person, named <i>Bertrand</i>; with whom, many other children of his age, had -their education: and among them, a daughter of the fore-named Physitian, -called <i>Juliet</i>; who, even in these tender yeares, fixed her affection -upon yong <i>Bertrand</i>, 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 <i>Isnard</i> dying, yong <i>Bertrand</i> -fell as a Ward to the King, and being sent to <i>Paris</i>, remained there under -his royall custodie and protection, to the no little discomfort of yong <i>Juliet</i>, -who became greevously afflicted in minde, because shee had lost the -company of <i>Bertrand</i>.</p> - -<p>Within some few yeeres after, the Physitian her Father also dyed, and -then her desires grew wholly addicted, to visite <i>Paris</i> her selfe in person, -onely because she would see the yong Count, awaiting but time & opportunitie, -to fit her stolne journey 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 behaviour, as she could not compasse any meanes of escaping. -Her yeeres made her now almost fit for marriage, which so much more -encreased her love 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, whereby her affections were the more violently enflamed, -as fearing least some other should be preferred before her, & so her hopes -be utterly disappointed.</p> - -<p>It was noysed abroad by common report, that the King of <i>France</i> was -in a very dangerous condition, by reason of a strange swelling on his stomacke, -which failing of apt and convenient 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 drove it to more vehement extreamitie, -compelling the King, as dispairing utterly of all helpe, to give over any -further counsell or advice. Heereof faire <i>Juliet</i> was wondrously joyful, as -hoping that this accident would prove the meanes, not only of hir journey -to <i>Paris</i>, but if the disease were no more then shee imagined; shee -could easily cure it, and thereby compasse Count <i>Bertrand</i> to be her husband. -Heereupon, quickning up 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 having reduced hir -compound into a powder, away she rode forthwith to Paris.</p> - -<p>Being there arrived, all other serious matters set aside, first shee must -needs have a sight of Count <i>Bertrand</i>, as being the onely Saint that caused -her pilgrimage. Next she made meanes for her accesse to the King, -humbly entreating his Majesty, to vouchsafe her the sight of his Fistula. -When the King saw her, her modest lookes did plainly deliver, 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 heaven) 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 unthankefull -for thy forward willingnesse: but I am fully determined, to use no more -counsell, or to make any further triall of Physicke or Chirurgery. Whereto -faire <i>Juliet</i> 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 undertake the ministering thereof, as depending on -mine owne knowledge; but by the gracious assistance of heaven, & some -rules of skilfull observation, which I learned of reverend <i>Gerard</i> of <i>Narbona</i>, -who was my worthy Father, and a Physitian of no meane fame, all -the while he lived.</p> - -<p>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 heaven, 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 resolved -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? Whatsoever 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 within -eight daies, let a good fire be made, and therein consume my bodie unto -ashes. But if I accomplish the cure, and set your Highnesse free from all -further greevance, what recompence then shall remaine to me?</p> - -<p>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 unmarried, if thou keepe promise, and I -finde my selfe to be fully cured: I will match thee with some such Gentleman -in marriage, as shal be of honourable and worthy reputation, with -a sufficient dowry beside. My gracious Soveraigne saide she, willing am -I, and most heartily thankful withall, that your Highnesse shal bestow me -in marriage: but I desire then, to have such a husband, as I shal desire -or demand by your gracious favour, without presuming to crave any of -your Sonnes, Kindred, or Alliance, or appertaining unto your Royall -blood. Whereto the King gladly granted. Young <i>Juliet</i> began to minister -her Physicke, and within fewer dayes then her limited time, the King -was sound and perfectly cured; which when he perceyved, hee sayd unto -her. Trust me vertuous Mayde, most woorthily hast thou wonne a Husband, -name him, and thou shalt have him. Royall King (quoth she) then -have I won the Count <i>Bertrand</i> of <i>Roussillion</i>, whom I have most entirely -loved 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.</p> - -<p>Noble Count, it is not unknowne to us, 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 enjoy a Wife, which we -intend to bestow upon 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 Heaven) -hath beene the meanes to save my life. Well did the Count know her, -as having 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 give me a Quacksalver 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 have us breake our faith; which for the recovery of our health, wee -have given to this vertuous virgin, and shee will have no other reward, -but onely Count <i>Bertrand</i> to be her husband? Sir, replied the Count, -you may dispossesse me of all that is mine, because I am your Ward and -Subject, 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 ever give consent thereto.</p> - -<p>Sir, saide the King, it is our will that it shall be so, vertuous she is, faire -and wise; she loveth 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) received his wife at the Kings hand; -she loving 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, reserving -to himselfe what else he intended. Being mounted on horseback, -and humbly taking their leave of the King, the Count would not ride -home to his owne dwelling, but into <i>Tuscany</i>, where he heard of a warre -betweene the <i>Florentines</i> and the <i>Senesi</i>, purposing to take part with the -<i>Florentines</i>, to whom he was willingly and honourably welcommed, being -created Captain of a worthy Company, and continuing there a long -while in service.</p> - -<p>The poore forsaken new married Countesse, could scarsely be pleased -with such dishonourable unkindnes, yet governing her impatience with -no meane discretion, and hoping by her vertuous carriage, to compasse -the meanes of his recall: home she rode to <i>Roussillion</i>, where all the people -received her very lovingly. Now, by reason of the Counts so long -absence, all things were there farre out of order; mutinies, quarrels, and -civill dissentions, having procured many dissolute irruptions, to the expence -of much blood in many places. But shee, like a jolly stirring Lady, -very wise and provident in such disturbances, reduced all occasions -to such civility againe, that the people admired her rare behaviour, and -condemned the Count for his unkindnesse towards her.</p> - -<p>After that the whole countrey of <i>Roussillion</i> (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 understand, that if in displeasure to her, hee was -thus become a stranger to his owne countrey: upon the return of his answer, -to give 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 have no determination to dwel with her, or neere where -she is. Tell her from me, when she shall have this Ring, which you behold -heere on my finger, and a sonne in her armes begotten by me; then -will I come live with her, and be her love. The Ring he made most precious -and deere account of, and never 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 favour else to be derived from him; sorrowfully -returned backe to their Ladie, and acquainted her with this unkinde -answer, as also his unalterable determination, which wel you may -conceive, must needs be verie unwelcome to her.</p> - -<p>After she had an indifferent while considered with her selfe, her resolution -became so undauntable; that she would adventure to practise such -meanes, whereby to compasse those two apparant impossibilities, and so -to enjoy the love of her husband. Having absolutely concluded what -was to be done, she assembled all the cheefest men of the country, revealing -unto them (in mournfull manner) what an attempt she had made already, -in hope of recovering her husbands favour, and what a rude answer -was thereon returned. In the end, she told them, that it did not sute -with her unworthinesse, to make the Count live as an exile from his -owne inheritance, upon no other inducement, but only in regard of her: -wherefore, she had determined betweene heaven and her soule, to spend -the remainder of her dayes in Pilgrimages and prayers, for preservation -of the Counts soule and her owne; earnestly desiring them, to undertake -the charge and government of the Countrey, and signifying unto the -Count, how she had forsaken his house, and purposed to wander so far -thence, that never would she visite <i>Roussillion</i> any more. In the deliverie -of these words, the Lords and gentlemen wept and sighed extraordinarily, -using many earnest imprecations to alter this resolve in her, but all -was in vaine.</p> - -<p>Having 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 Jewels, -to avoide all wants which might befall her in travaile; not acquainting -any one whether she went. In no place stayed she, untill she was arrived -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 he was a stranger there, yet a Nobleman, -called Count <i>Bertrand</i> of <i>Roussillion</i>, a verie courteous Knight, -beloved and much respected in the City. Moreover, that he was farre -in love with a neighbour of hers, a yong Gentlewoman, but verie poore -and meane in substance, yet of honest life, vertuous, and never taxed -with any evill report: onely her povertie was the maine imbarment of -her marriage, dwelling in house with her mother, who was a wise, honest, -and worthy Lady.</p> - -<p>The Countesse having wel observed her words, and considered thereon -from point to point; debated soberly with her owne thoughts, in such -a doubtfull case what was best to be done. When she had understood -which was the house, the ancient Ladies name, and likewise her daughters, -to whom her husband was now so affectionately devoted; she made -choise of a fit and convenient 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 giving her courteous entertainment, -they went together into a withdrawing chamber, where being -both set downe, the Countesse began in this manner.</p> - -<p>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 beleeve 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 have now need -(good Madame) both of your trust and fidelity, whereon if I should rely, -and you faile me, it will be your owne undooing as well as mine. Speake -then boldly, replied the olde Ladie, and remaine constantly assured, that -you shall no way be deceived by me. Heereupon, the Countesse declared -the whole course of her love, from the verie originall to the instant, -revealing also what she was, and the occasion of her comming thither, -relating every thing so perfectly, that the Ladie verily beleeved her, by -some reports which she had formerly heard, and which mooved her the -more to compassion. Now, when all circumstances were at full discovered, -thus spake the Countesse.</p> - -<p>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 have, all hope is -quite frustrate for ever, 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 -have heard, and you can therein best resolve mee. Since my comming -to this City, it hath credibly bene told me, that the Count my husband, -is deeply in love with your daughter. If the Count (quoth the Ladie) -love my daughter, and have a wife of his owne, he must thinke, and so -shall surely finde it, that his greatnesse is no priviledge for him, whereby -to worke dishonour upon her poverty. 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 whatsoever 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 poverty -as at high a rate, as he can do the pride of his honour.</p> - -<p>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 have heard) onely by lack of a competent dowry. -Wherefore Madame, in recompence of the favour 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 honour. Poverty made the poore Lady, -very well to like of such a bountifull offer, and having a noble heart -she said: Great Countesse say, wherein am I able to do you any service, -as can deserve such a gracious offer? If the action bee honest, without -blame or scandall to my poore, yet undejected reputation, gladly I will -do it; and it being accomplished, let the requitall rest in your owne noble -nature.</p> - -<p>Observe me then Madam, replyed the Countesse. It is most convenient -for my purpose, that by some trusty and faithfull messenger, you -should advertise the Count my husband, that your daughter is, and shall -be at his command: but because she may remain absolutely assured, that -his love is constant to her, and above all other: shee must entreate him, -to send her (as a testimony thereof) the Ring which he weareth upon his -little finger, albeit she hath heard, that he loveth it dearly. If he send the -Ring, you shal give 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 favour mee, that (unknowne to -him) I may conceive with childe. Uppon which good successe, when -time shall serve, having the Ring on my finger, and a child in my armes -begotten by him, his love and liking may bee recovered, and (by your -meanes) I continue with my Husband, as everie vertuous Wife ought -to doe.</p> - -<p>The good old Ladie imagined, that this was a matter somewhat difficult, -and might lay a blamefull imputation on her daughter: Neverthelesse, -considering, what an honest office it was in her, to bee the -meanes, whereby so worthy a Countesse should recover an unkinde husband, -led altogether by lust, and not a jot of cordiall love; she knew the -intent to be honest, the Countesse vertuous, and her promise religious, -and therefore undertooke to effect it. Within few dayes after, verie ingeniously, -and according to the instructed order, the Ring was obtained, -albeit much against the Counts will; and the Countesse, in sted of -the Ladies vertuous daughter, was embraced by him in bed: the houre -proving so auspicious, and <i>Juno</i> being Lady of the ascendent, conjoyned -with the witty <i>Mercury</i>, she conceived of two goodly Sonnes, and -her deliverance agreed correspondently with the just time.</p> - -<p>Thus the old Lady, not at this time only, but at many other meetings -beside; gave the Countesse free possession of her husbands pleasures, yet -alwayes in such darke and concealed secrecie, as it was never suspected, -nor knowne by any but themselves, the Count lying with his owne wife, -and disappointed of her whom he more deerely loved. Alwayes at his -uprising in the mornings (which usually was before the breake of day, -for preventing the least scruple of suspition) many familiar conferences -passed betweene them, with the gifts of divers faire and costly Jewels; all -which the Countesse carefully kept, and perceiving assuredly, that shee -was conceived 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 give thankes to heaven and you, because my desires are amply accomplished, -and both time and your deserts doe justly 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 give you by way of reward, because that would seeme to bee -base and mercenary: but onely whatsoever you shall receive of me, is in -honourable recompence of faire & vertuous deservings, such as any honest -and well-minded Lady in the like distresse, may with good credit allow, -and yet no prejudice to her reputation.</p> - -<p>Although poverty might well have 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 uttered too; yet the Countesse gave hir five -hundred pounds, beside so many rich and costly Jewels, 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 -<i>Florence</i>; and the good old Lady, to avoide the Counts repairing to her -house any more, departed thence sodainly with her daughter, to divers -friends of hers that dwelt in the Country, whereat the Count was much -discontented; albeit afterward, he did never heare any more tidings of hir -or her daughter, who was worthily married, to her Mothers great comfort.</p> - -<p>Not long after, Count <i>Bertrand</i> was re-called home by his people: -and he having heard of his wives absence, went to <i>Roussillion</i> so much the -more willingly. And the Countesse knowing her husbands departure -from <i>Florence</i>, as also his safe arrivall at his owne dwelling, remained still -in <i>Florence</i>, untill the time of her deliverance, which was of two goodly -Sonnes, lively resembling the lookes of their Father, and all the perfect -lineaments of his body. Perswade your selves, she was not a little carefull -of their nursing; and when she saw the time answerable to her determination, -she tooke her journey (unknowne to any) and arrived with -them at <i>Montpellier</i>, where shee rested her selfe for divers dayes, after so -long and wearisome a journey.</p> - -<p>Upon the day of all Saints, the Count kept a solemne Festivall, for -the assembly of his Lords, Knights, Ladies, and Gentlewomen: uppon -which Joviall day of generall rejoycing, the Countesse attired in her -wonted Pilgrimes weed, repaired thither, entering into the great Hall, -where the Tables were readily covered for dinner. Preassing thorough -the throng of people, with her two children in her armes, she presumed -unto the place where the Count sate, & falling on her knees before him, -the teares trickling abundantly downe her cheekes, thus she spake. Worthy -Lord, I am thy poor, despised, and unfortunate wife; who, that thou -mightst returne home, and not bee an exile from thine owne abiding, -have 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 unto -thee, and which (by thy command) I was enjoyned 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 honour respect their -promises, that after so long and tedious travell, I should at last bee welcommed -as thy true wife.</p> - -<p>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 judgement. -Upon his urging by what possible meanes this could be broght to passe: -the Countesse in presence of the whole assembly, and unto her eternall -commendation, related the whole history, even in such manner as you -have formerly heard it. Moreover, she reported the private speeches in -bed, uttered betweene himselfe and her, being witnessed more apparantly, -by the costly Jewels 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 every point which -she had reported.</p> - -<p>Commending her admirable constancy, excellency of wit, & sprightly -courage, in making such a bold adventure; 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 have no deniall, but by forgetting his former harsh -and uncivill carriage towardes her, to accept her for ever as his lawfull -wife: folding her in his armes, and sweetly kissing her divers times together, -he bad her welcome to him, as his vertuous, loyall, & most loving -wife, and so (for ever 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 uncase -her of those pilgrimes weeds, and cloath her in her owne more sumptuous -garments, even 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 give the King thanks -for her, and now was Count <i>Bertrand</i> truly married to the faire <i>Juliet</i> of -<i>Narbona</i>.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="The_wonderfull_and_chaste_resolved_continency_of_faire_Serictha_daughter_to" id="The_wonderfull_and_chaste_resolved_continency_of_faire_Serictha_daughter_to"><i>The wonderfull and chaste resolved continency of faire Serictha, daughter to -Siwalde King of Denmark, who being sought and sued unto by many worthy -persons, that did affect her dearly, would not looke any man in the face, -untill such time as she was married.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The tenth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>A very singular and worthy president, for all yong Ladies and Gentlewomen: -not rashly to bestow themselves in mariage, without the knowledge and consent -of their Parents and Friends.</i></h4> - - -<p><i>Dioneus</i> having diligently listened -to the Queens singular -discourse, so soone as she had -concluded, and none now remaining -but himselfe, to give a full -period unto 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 -now expect from me, some such -queint Tale, as shall be suteable -to my merry disposition; rather -savouring of wantonnesse, then -any discreet and sober wisedom; -and such a purpose indeed, I once -had entertained. But having well -observed all your severall relations, -grounded on grave & worthy -examples, especially the last, so notably delivered by the Queene: I -cannot but commend faire <i>Juliet</i> of <i>Narbona</i>, in perfourming two such -strange impossibilities, and conquering the unkindnesse of so cruel a husband. -If my Tale come short of the precedent excellency, or give not -such content as you (perhaps) expect; accept my good will, and let me -stand engaged for a better heereafter.</p> - -<p>The Annales of <i>Denmarke</i> do make mention, that the King of the said -country, who was first set downe as Prince, contrary to the ancient custom -and lawes observed among the <i>Danes</i>, namely <i>Hunguinus</i>; had a son -called <i>Siwalde</i>, 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 <i>Serictha</i>, -Daughter to the sayde <i>Siwalde</i>; 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 whatsoever else, to attract the eyes of everie one to beholde -her: was also so chaste, modest, and bashfull, as it was meerely -impossible, to prevaile 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 -conceived, of the vertuous qualities of a Ladie. Notwithstanding, never -could any man make his vaunt, that she had given him so much as a -looke, or ever any one attained to the favour, to whisper a word in her -eare. Because both the custome and will of Parents then (very respectively -kept in those Northerne parts of the world) of hearing such speak, -as desired their daughters in marriage; grew from offering them some -worthy services; and thereby compassed meanes, to yeeld their contentation, -by some gracious and kinde answers.</p> - -<p>But she, who was farre off from the desire of any such follies, referring -her selfe wholly to the will and disposition of the King her Lord and -Father; was so contrary, to give any living man an answer, that her eye -never 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 have any other disposition, but such as should bee pleasing to -their parents, either to graunt, or denie, according as they were guided -by their grave judgement. In like manner, so well had shee brideled -her sensuall appetites, with the curbe of Reason, Wisedome, and -Providence; setting such a severe and constant restraint, on the twinkling -or motions of her eyes, in absolute obedience to her Father; as never -was she seene to turne her head aside, to lend one looke on any man -of her age.</p> - -<p>A worthy sight it was, to behold Knights errant, passing, repassing to -<i>Denmarke</i>, and backe againe, labouring to conquer those setled eyes, to -win the least signe of grace and favour, from her whom they so dutiously -pursued, to steale but a silly glimpse or glance, and would have thought it -a kind of honourable theft. But this immovable 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 endeavour, -ayming onely at obtaining her in mariage: yet did she not lend any look -of her eye, yeelding the least signall of the hearts motion, in affecting any -thing whatsoever, but what it pleased her Father she should do.</p> - -<p><i>Serictha</i> living in this strange and unusuall manner, it mooved manie -Princes and great Lords, to come and court her, contending both by -signes and words, to change her from this severe constancie, and make -knowne (if possible it might be) whether a woman would or could be so -resolute, as to use no respect at all towards them, coming from so manie -strange countries, to honour 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 <i>Serictha</i> were. Considering, that our Courtiers -of these times, are this way emulous one of another, and women are so -forward in offering themselves, that they performe the office of suters, -as fearing lest they should not be solicited, yea, though it bee in honest -manner.</p> - -<p>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 severity would be shaken, if once it came to passe, that -his daughter should feele the piercing apprehensions of love, & whereof -(as yet) she never had any experience; he determined to use some remedy -for this great concourse of lovers, and strange kinde of carriage in the -Princesse his daughter. For, hee apparantly perceived, that such excelling -beauty as was in <i>Serictha</i>, with those good and commendable customes, -and other ornaments of his daughters mind, could never attaine -to such an height of perfection; but yet there would be found some men, -so wittily accute and ingenious, as to convert and humour 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 service, some one or other would prove -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 himselfe in his Chamber, and -standing cleere from all other attention, hee used to her this, or the like -Language.</p> - -<p>I know not faire daughter, what reason may move 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 -love and loyall service, under this onely pretence (as I perceive) 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 justly vouchsafe to see; I commend your maidenly continencie, which -yet neverthelesse, I would not have to bee so severe; as (at length) your -youth falling into mislike thereof, it maybe the occasion of some great -misfortune, either to you, or me, or else to us both together: considering -what rapes are ordinarily committed in these quarters, and of Ladies -equall every way to your selfe; which happening, would presently -be the cause of my death.</p> - -<p>If it be in regard of some vow which you have consecrated to virginity, -and to some one of our Gods: I seeke not therein to hinder your disseignes, -neither will bereave the celestiall powers, of whatsoever 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 prove a Campe destinied unto the conclusion of -such quarrels, or you be the occasion of ruining so many, whose service -would beseeme a much more needfull place, then to dye heere by fond -and foolish opinion of enjoying a vaine pleasure, yet remaining in the -power of another bodie to grant. If therefore I shall perceive, that these -behaviours in you do proceede from pride, or contempt of them, who -endeavour to do you both honour and service, 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.</p> - -<p>Wherefore deere daughter, you shall do me a singular pleasure, freely -to acquaint me with your minde, and the reasons of your so stricte severity: -promising you, upon the word and faith of a King, nay more, of -a loving and kinde Father, that if I finde the cause to bee just and reasonable, -I will desist so farre from hindering your intent, as you shal rather -perceive my fatherly furtherance, and rest truly resolved of my help and -favour. Wherefore faire daughter, neither blush or dismay, or feare to -let me understand your will; for evidently I see, that meere virgin shame -hath made a rapture of your soule, beeing nothing else but those true -splendours of vertue derived from your Auncestors, and shining in you -most gloriously, gracing you with a much richer embellishing, then 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 uppon mine oath -once againe, that if your reasons are such as they ought to be, I will not -faile to accommodate your fancy.</p> - -<p>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 reverence, in signe of dutifull accepting such favour, -thus she answered. Royall Lord and Father, seeing that in your Princely -Court, I have gathered whatsoever may be termed vertuous in me, & -you being the principall instructer of my life, from whom I have learned -those lessons, how maides (of my age) ought to governe and maintaine -themselves: you shall apparently perceive, that neither gazing lookes, -which I ought not to yeelde without your consent, nor pride or arrogancie, -never taught me by you, or the Queene my most honourable -Lady and Mother, are any occasion of my carriage towards them, which -come to make ostentation of their folly in your Court, as if a meere look -of <i>Serictha</i>, were sufficient to yeeld assurance effectually of their desires -victory.</p> - -<p>Nothing (my most Royall Lord and Father) induceth mee to this -kinde of behaviour, 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 have any other private reserved -meaning, then what may best please King <i>Siwalde</i> my Father: let -it suffice Sir, that it remaineth in your power onely, to make an apt election -and choise 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) untill your Highnesse shall nominate the man, to be a meete husband -for <i>Serictha</i>. It is onely you then (my Lord) that beares the true -life-blood of our Ancestors. It is the untainted 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 have sealed up my soule with an absolute determination, -rather to make choise of death, then any way to alter this my warrantable -severity.</p> - -<p>You being a wise King, and the worthie Father of <i>Serictha</i>, 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 lives 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 (neverthelesse) I hold as a matter impossible, if their discord -should be grounded on the sole apprehension of their soules: and -the onely prevention thereof, 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.</p> - -<p>Many meanes there are, whereby to winne the grace of the greatest -King, by employing their paines in worthy occasions, answerable unto -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 endeavouring to shake the simplicity of a bashfull maide: Let them -cleare the Kings high-wayes of Theeves, who make the passages difficult: -or let them expell Pirates from off the Seas, which make our <i>Danish</i> -coasts every way inaccessible. These are such Noble meanes to merit, -as may throw deserved recompence uppon 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 <i>Serictha</i> to behold none, but him who you shall please to give -her: for otherwise, you know her absolute resolve, never to looke any -living man in the face, but onely you my gracious Lord and Father.</p> - -<p>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 gave him, returned her this answer. Understand me wel, faire -daughter; neither am I minded to breake your determination wholly, -nor yet to governe my selfe according to your fancie. I stand indifferently -contented, that untill I have 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 therein to declare your -obedience. What else remaineth beside, for so silly a thing as a Woman -is, and for the private pleasing of so many great Princes and Lords, I will -not endanger any of their lives; because their parents and friends (being -sensible of such losses) may seeke revenge, perhaps to their owne ruine, -and some following scourge to my indiscretion. For I consider (daughter) -that I have neighbours who scarsely love me, and of whom (in time) -I may right my selfe, having received (by their meanes) great wrongs & -injuries. Also I make no doubt, but to manage your love-sute with discretion, -and set such a pleasing proceeding 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 favourably upon some one -man, to reach the height of both our wished desires.</p> - -<p><i>Siwalde</i> was thus determinately resolved, to let his daughter live at -her owne discretion, without any alteration of her continued severitie, -perceiving day by day, that many came still to request her in mariage; & -he could not give 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 favour of <i>Serictha</i>, as but to looke him in -the face. This condition seemed to bee of no meane difficulty, yea, and -so impossible, that many gave over their amorous enterprize: whereof -<i>Serictha</i> was wondrouslie joyfull, seeing her selfe eased of such tedious -importunitie, dulling her eares with their proffered services, and foppish -allegations of fantasticke servitude: such as ydle-headed Lovers do -use to protest before their Mistresses, wherein they may beleeve them, if -they list.</p> - -<p>Among all them that were thus forward in their heate of affection, -there was a young <i>Danish</i> Lord, named <i>Ocharus</i>, the sonne of a Pirate, -called <i>Hebonius</i>, the same man, who having stolne the Sister unto King -<i>Hunguinus</i>, and Sister to <i>Siwalde</i>, & affiancing himselfe to her, was slaine -by King <i>Haldune</i>, and by thus killing him, enjoyed both the Lady, and the -kingdome of the <i>Gothes</i> also, as her inheritance. This <i>Ocharus</i>, relying -much on his comelinesse of person, wealth, power, and valour, but -(above all the rest) on his excellent and eloquent speaking; bestowed his -best endeavour to obtaine <i>Serictha</i>, notwithstanding the contemptible -carriage of the rest towards him; whereupon prevailing for his accesse to -the Princesse, and admitted to speake, as all the other did, he reasoned -with her in this manner.</p> - -<p>Whence may it proceede, Madam, that you being the fairest and wisest -Princesse living at this day in all the Northerne parts, should make so small -account of your selfe, as to denie that, which with honour you may yeeld -to them, as seeke to doe you most humble service; and forgetting the rank -you hold, doe refuse to deigne them recompence in any manner whatsoever, -seeking onely to enjoy you in honourable marriage? Perhaps you are -of opinion, that the gods should become slaves to your beauty, in which -respect, men are utterly unworthy to crave 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 us men; I thinke you covet 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 have wished, and doe desire you: I know also, -that as many have requested you of the King your Father, but the choyce -remaineth in your power, and you being ordained the Judge, to distinguish -the merit of all your Sutors; me thinkes you doe wrong to the office -of a Judge; in not regarding the parties which are in suite, to sentence the -desert of the best and bravest, and so to delay them with no more lingering.</p> - -<p>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 have a Sonne in Law, to revenge -him on the Tyrant of <i>Swetia</i>; who, as you well know, was sometime -the murtherer of your Grand-father <i>Hunguinus</i>, and also of his Father. -If you please to vouchsafe me so much grace and favour, as to make -me the man, whom your heart hath chosen to be your Husband; I sweare -unto you by the honour of a Souldier, that I will undergoe such service, -as the King shall be revenged, you royally satisfied, and my selfe advanced -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 love -may be engraven therein; see there the loyall pursuite of your <i>Ocharus</i>, -who, to save his life, cannot so much as winne one looke from his divine -Mistresse.</p> - -<p>This nicenesse is almost meerely barbarous, that I, wishing to adventure -my life prodigally in your service, 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 <i>Serictha</i>, if you desire the death of your friendly servant -<i>Ocharus</i>, 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 upon me; if my face be so unworthy, -that one beame of your bright Sunnes may not shine upon 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 envious of mine -ease, let one of your women be shee, to pronounce the sentence of life or -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 servants be against your more mercifull -wishes; deale so that I may perceive it, and expresse what compassion -you have of your <i>Ocharus</i>, who coveteth nothing more, then your daily -hearts ease and contentment, with a priviledge of honour above other -Ladies. All this discourse was heard by <i>Serictha</i>, but so little was shee -moved therewith, as shee was farre enough off from returning him any -answer, neither did any of the Gentlewomen attending on her, ever heare -her use the very least word to any of her amorous sollicitors, nor did shee -know any one of them, but by speech onely, which drove them all into -an utter despaire, perceiving no possible meanes whereby to conquer -her.</p> - -<p>The Histories of the Northerne Countries doe declare, that in those -times, the rapes of women were not much respected; and such as pursued -any Lady or Gentlewoman with love, were verily perswaded, that they -never made sufficient proofe of their amourous passions, if they undertooke -not all cunning stratagems, with adventure of their lives to all perils -whatsoever, for the rape or stealth of them, whom they purposed to -enjoy in marriage. As we reade in the <i>Gothes</i> History of <i>Gramo</i>, Sonne to -the King of <i>Denmarke</i>, who being impatiently amourous of the daughter -to the King of the <i>Gothes</i>, and winning the love 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 <i>Gothes</i> and -the <i>Danes</i>. In recompence of which injury, <i>Sibdagerus</i>, King of <i>Norway</i>, -being chosen chiefe Commander of the <i>Swetians</i> & <i>Gothes</i>, entred powerfully -into <i>Denmarke</i>, where first he violated the Sister to King <i>Gramo</i>, and -led away her Daughter, whom in the like manner he made his Spouse, as -the <i>Dane</i> had done the Daughter of <i>Sigtruge</i>, Prince of the <i>Gothes</i>.</p> - -<p>I induce these briefe narrations, onely to shew, that while <i>Ocharus</i> made -honest and affable meanes, to win respect from <i>Serictha</i>, and used all honourable -services to her, as the Daughter of so great a Prince worthily deserved: -some there were, not halfe so conscientious as he, especially one -of the amourous sutors, who being weary of the strange carriages of <i>Serictha</i>, -dissembling to prosecute his purpose no further; prevailed so farre, -that he corrupted one of her Governesses, for secretly training her to such -a place, where the ravisher should lie in ambush to carry her away, so to -enjoy her by pollicy, seeing all other meanes failed for to compasse his -desire.</p> - -<p>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 love a Lady -for her gentillity and vertue; knoweth not how to measure what love is, -neither seeth or conceiveth, how farre the permission of his owne endeavour -extendeth. Moreover, you may observe, that never any age was so -grosse, or men so simple, but even almost from the beginning, avarice 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. <i>Serictha</i>, who shunned the light of all men, and never -distrusted them which kept about her; shee who never knew (except -some naturall sparke gave light to her understanding) 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.</p> - -<p>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 have repented very dearely, if Heaven -had not succoured her innocency, by the helpe of him, who wished -her as well as the ravisher, though their desires were quite contrary; the -one to enjoy her by violence, but the other affecting rather to die, then -doe the least act which might displease her. No sooner was <i>Serictha</i> arrived -at the destined place, where her false Governesse was to deliver her; -but behold a second <i>Paris</i> 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.</p> - -<p>Now the ravisher durst not convey her to his owne abiding, to enjoy -the benefit of his purchase; but haled her into a small thicket of trees, -where, although shee knew the evident perill, whereinto her severe continency -had now throwne her: yet notwithstanding, shee would not lift up -her eyes, to see what he was that had thus stolne her, so firmely shee dwelt -upon grounded deliberation, and such was the vigor of her chaste resolve. -And albeit shee knew a wickednesse (worse then death) preparing for her, -who had no other glory then in her vertue, and desire to live 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 prejudice to honour, when the mind is free and cleere from -consent.</p> - -<p>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 advantage whatsoever, crying out shrilly, and -strugling against him strongly: her outcryes were heard by one, who little -imagined that shee was so neere, whom he loved more dearely then his -owne life, namely, <i>Ocharus</i>; who was walking accidentally alone in this -wood, devising 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 ravished; but he cryed out to the thiefe, saying; -Hand off villaine, let not such a slave as thou, prophane with an unreverend -touch the sacred honour of so chaste a Princesse, who deserveth to -be more royally respected, then thus rudely hurried: Hand off I say, or -else I sweare by her divine perfections, whom I esteeme above all creatures -in this World, to make thee die more miserably, then ever any man -as yet did.</p> - -<p>Whosoever had seene a Lyon or an Ounce rouse himselfe, chafing -when any one adventureth to rob him of his prey; and then with fierce -eyes, mounted creasts, writhed tayles, and sharpened pawes, make against -him that durst to molest him. In the like manner did the ravisher shew -himselfe, and one while snarling, another while bristling the darted disdainefull -lookes at <i>Ocharus</i>, and spake to him in this manner. Vile and -base Sea-thiefe, as thou art, welcome to thy deserved wages, and just repayment -for thy proud presuming. It glads my heart not a little, to meete -thee here, where thou shalt soone perceive what good will I beare thee, -and whether thou be worthy or no to enjoy 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 favour; -when shee shall see what a powerfull arme I have, to punish this -proud insolence of a Pirate.</p> - -<p>This harsh language was so distastfull to <i>Ocharus</i>, that like a Bull, made -angry by the teeth of some Mastive Dogge, or pricked by the point of a -weapon, he ran upon his enemy, and was so roughly welcommed by him, -as it could not easilly be judged which of them had the better advantage. -But in the end Fortune favoured most the honest man, and <i>Ocharus</i> having -overthrowne the robber, hee smote the head of him quite from his -shoulders, which he presented to her, whom he had delivered out of so -great a peril, and thus he spake. You may now behold Madam, whether -<i>Ocharus</i> be a true lover of <i>Sericthaes</i> vertues, or no, and your knowledge -fully resolved, at what end his affection aimeth; as also, how farre his honest -desert extendeth, for you both to love him, and to recompence the -loyall respect he hath used towards you. Never looke on the villaines face, -who strove to shame the King your Fathers Court, by violation of theevery, -the chastest Princesse on the Earth; but regard <i>Ocharus</i>, who is readie -to sacrifice himselfe, if you take as much pleasure in his ruine, as (he thinketh) -hee hath given you contentment, by delivering you from this -Traytor.</p> - -<p>Doth it not appeare unto you Madam, that I have as yet done enough, -whereby to be thought a worthy Husband, for the royall Daughter of -<i>Denmarke</i>? Have I not satisfied the Kings owne Ordinance, by delivering -his Daughter, as already I have done? Will <i>Serictha</i> 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 perceive, that the wages of my devoire, is ranked amongest -those precedent services, which I have 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 unfeigned lover of your modesty, and devoutly honoureth your vertuous -behaviour. And yet Madame, shall I have 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 <i>Ocharus</i>, as to -the rest, who have 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 services: 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.</p> - -<p>No outward signe of kinde acceptation, did any way expresse itselfe -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 resolved, that no violence had bene done unto her.</p> - -<p>The Princesse, sharpely rebuking her women, for leaving her so basely -as they had done, gave charge to one of them (because she would not -seeme altogether negligent & discourteous) that she being gone thence, -she should not faile to thanke <i>Ocharus</i>, for the honest and faithfull service -he had done unto her, which she would continually remember, and -recompence as it lay in her power. Neverthelesse, shee advised him -withall, not to hope of any more advantage 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 reserved -her for another, all his services would availe to no purpose, but rather to -make her the more rigorous towards him.</p> - -<p>This gracious answer, thus given him by her Gentlewoman, althogh -it gave some small contentment to the poore languishing lover: yet hee -saw no assured signe whereon to settle his resolve, but his hopes vanished -away in smoake, as fast as opinion bred them in his braine. And gladly -he would have given over all further amorous solicitings, but by some -private perswasions of her message sent him, which in time might so advance -his services done for her sake, as would derive far greater favours -from her. Whereupon, he omitted no time or place, but as occasion -gave him any gracious permission, still plied her memorie, with his manly -rescuing her from the ravisher, 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 deserve her, as he had done.</p> - -<p>So long he pursued her in this manner, that his speeches seemed hatefull -to her, and devising 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 service, 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 herselfe to paines and servility: 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 uproare -for the Ladies losse, the Father in no meane affliction, the Lovers -well-nere beside their wits, and every one else most greevously tormented, -that a Lady of such worth should so sodainly be gone, and all pursuit -made after her, gaine no knowledge of her.</p> - -<p>In this high tide of sorrow and disaster, what shall we say of the gentle -Lord <i>Ocharus</i>? What judgement can sound the depth of his wofull -extreamity? Fearing least some other theefe had now made a second -stealth of his divine Goddesse; he must needs follow her againe, seeking -quite throughout the world, never more returning backe to the Court, -nor to the place of his owne abiding, untill hee heard tidings of his Mistresse, -or ended his dayes in the search of her. No Village, Town, Cottage, -Castle, or any place else of note or name, did hee leave unsought, -but diligently he searched for <i>Serictha</i>; striving to get knowledge, under -what habit she lived thus concealed, but all his labour was to no effect: -which made him leave the places so much frequented, and visite the solitary -desert shades, entering into all Caves and rusticke habitations, -whereon hee could fasten his eye, to seeke for the lost Treasure of his -soule.</p> - -<p>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 rivers, -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 having got a sight of him, presently covered -her face with a veile. Love, who sate as Sentinell both in the heart -and eye of the gentle <i>Norwegian</i> Lord, as quickly discovered the subtilty -of the faire Shephearddesse, enstructing the soule of <i>Ocharus</i>, that -thus she hid her face, as coveting not to be knowne: whereupon he gathered, -that doubtlesse this was shee, for whom he hadde sought with -such tedious travaile, and therefore going directly unto her, thus hee -spake.</p> - -<p>Gentle Princesse; wherefore do you thus hide your selfe from mee? -Why do you haunt these retreats and desolate abodes, having power to -command over infinite men, that cannot live but by your presence? -What hath moved you Madame, to flye from company, to dwel among -desert Rockes, and serve as a slave, to such as are no way worthy of your -service? Why do you forsake a potent King, whose onely daughter and -hope you are; leaving your countrey and royall traine of Ladies, and so -farre abasing your selfe, to live in the dejected state of a servant, and to -some rusticke clowne or peazant? What reason have you, to despise so -many worthy Lords, that dearely love and honour you, but (above them -all) your poore slave <i>Ocharus</i>, who hath made no spare of his owne life, for -the safety of yours, and also for the defence of your honour? Royal maid, -I am the same man that delivered you from the villaine, who would have -violated your faire chastity; and since then, have not spared any payne -or travell in your search: for whose losse, King <i>Siwalde</i> is in extreme anguish, -the <i>Danes</i> in mourning habites, and <i>Ocharus</i> even at the doore of -death, being no way able to endure your absence.</p> - -<p>Are you of the minde, worthy Madame, that I have not hitherto deserved -so much as one good looke or glance of your eye, in recompence -of so many good & loyall services? If Alas! I am neither ravisher, nor demander -of any unjust requests, or else incivill in my motions: I may merit -one regard of my Mistresse. I require onely so silly a favour, that her -eyes may pay me the wages for all which I have hitherto done in her service. -What would you do Madam, if I were an importunate solicitor, -and requested farre greater matters of you, in just recompence of my labours? -I do not desire, that you should embrace me. I am not so bold, -as to request a kisse of <i>Sericthaes</i>, more then immortall lips. Nor doe I -covet, that she should any otherwise entreate mee, then with such severity -as beseemeth so great a Princesse. I aske no more, but onely to elevate -your chaste eyes, and grace me with one little looke, as being the -man, who for his vertue and loyall affection, hath deserved more then -that favour, 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 <i>Ocharus</i>?</p> - -<p>The Princesse perceiving that it availed nothing to conceale hir selfe, -being by him so apparantly discovered; began now to speake (which she -had never done before, either to him, or any other of her amorous suters) -answering him in this manner. Lord <i>Ocharus</i>, it might suffice you, -that your importunity made me forsake my Fathers Court, and causeth -me to live 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 have presumed to do. For I am resolved, never to -favour you any otherwise, then hitherto I have done; desiring you therefore, -that <i>Serictha</i> wanting an Interpreter to tell you her will, you would -now receive it from her owne mouth, determining sooner to dye, then -alter a jot of her intended purpose.</p> - -<p><i>Ocharus</i> hearing this unwelcome answer, was even upon the point to -have 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 unfitting for a man of his ranke; hee tooke -his leave of her, solemnly promising, not to forget her further pursuite, -but at all times to obey her so long as he lived, although her commaund -was very hard for him to endure. So hee departed thence, not unto the -Court, she being not there, that had the power to enjoyne his presence: -but home to his owne house, where he was no sooner arrived, 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 service, who utterly -despised him, and all his endeavours which he undertooke. He began -to accuse her of great ingratitude, laying over-much respect uppon -her vertue, to have no feeling at all of his loyall sufferings; but meerely -made a mockery of his martyrdome. Heereupon, he concluded to give -over all further affection, to languish no longer for her sake, that hated -him and all his actions.</p> - -<p>While he continued in these melancholly passions, the Princesse, who -all this while had persisted in such strict severity, as astonished the courages -of her stoutest servants; considering (more deliberately) on the -sincere affection of <i>Ocharus</i>, and that vertue onely made him the friend -to her modesty, and not wanton or lascivious appetite; she felt a willing -readinesse in her soule, to gratifie him in some worthy manner, and to -recompence some part of his travailes. Which to effect, she resolved -to follow him (in some counterfeite habite) even 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 served, and who had likewise seen Lord -<i>Ocharus</i> (of whom she had perfect knowledge) when hee conferred with -the Shephearddesse, and enquiring the cause, why hee resorted in that -manner to her; <i>Serictha</i> returned her this answer.</p> - -<p>Mistresse, I make no doubt, but you will be somewhat amazed, and -(perhaps) can hardly credit when you heare, that she who now serveth -you in the poore degree of Shephearddesse, is the onely daughter to <i>Siwalde</i> -King of the <i>Danes</i>: for whose love, so many great Lords have continually -laboured; and that I onely attracted hither <i>Ocharus</i>, the Noble -Sonne of valiant <i>Hebonius</i>, 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 rivals. But if my words may not heerein sufficiently -assure you, I would advise you, to send where <i>Ocharus</i> dwelleth, & there -make further enquiry of him, to the end that you may not imagine me a -lyar. If my speeches do otherwise prevaile with you, and you remain assured, -that I am she, whom your Noble neighbour so deerely affecteth, -albeit I never made any account at all of him: then I do earnestly intreat -you, so much to stand my friend, as to provide some convenient means -for me, whereby I may passe unknowne to the Castle of <i>Ocharus</i>, to revenge -my selfe on his civill honesty, & smile at him hereafter, if he prove -not so cleerely sighted, as to know her being neere him, whom he vaunteth -to love above all women else.</p> - -<p>The good Countrey-woman hearing these wordes, and perceyving -that she had the Princesse in her house, of whose speeches she made not -any doubt, in regard of her stout countenance, gravity, and faire demeanor, -began to rellish something in her minde, farre differing from matter -of common understanding, and therefore roundly replied in this kind -of language.</p> - -<p>Madam (for servant I may no longer call you) I make no question to -the contrary, but that you are derived of high birth; having observed -your behaviour, and womanly carriage. And so much the more I remaine -assured thereof, having seene such great honour done unto you, by -the Noble Lord, and worthy Warriour <i>Ocharus</i>: wherefore, it lieth not -in my power, to impeach your desseignes, much lesse to talke of your -longer service, because you are the Princesse <i>Serictha</i>, whom I am to -performe all humble dutie unto, as being one of your meanest subjects. -And although you were not shee, yet would I not presume any way to -offend you, in regarde of the true and vertuous love, which that good -Knight <i>Ocharus</i> seemeth to beare you. If my company bee needefull for -you, I beseech you to accept it: if not, take whatsoever is mine, which -may any way sted you; for, to make you passe unknowne, I can and will -provide sufficiently, even to your own contentment, and in such strange -manner, as <i>Ocharus</i> (were he never so cleerely sighted) shal be deceived, -you being attired in those fashion garments, which heere in these parts -are usually worne.</p> - -<p><i>Serictha</i> being wonderously joyfull at her answer, suffred hir to paint, -or rather soile her faire face, with the juice of divers hearbes and rootes, -and cloathed her in such an habite as those women use to weare that live -in the mountaines of <i>Norway</i>, upon the sea-coast fronting <i>Great-Britain</i>. -Being thus disguised, confidently she went, to beguile the eie of her dearest -friend, and so to returne backe againe from him, having affoorded -him such a secret favour, in requitall of his honourable services; delivering -her out of so great a danger, and comming to visite her in so solitarie -a life. Nor would she have the womans company any further, then -till she came within the sight of <i>Ocharus</i> his Castle; where when she was -arrived (he being then absent) the mother unto the Noble Gentleman, -gave her courteous welcome; 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.</p> - -<p>When <i>Ocharus</i> was returned home, he received advertisement by his -mother, concerning the arrivall 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 travailes, and passed honest offices. Observing all her actions and -gestures, her wonted rigour never bending one jot, or gave way to her -eye to looke upon any man; he grew the better assured, that she was the -daughter to King <i>Siwalde</i>. 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 give a final end to his greevous afflictions.</p> - -<p>Upon a watch-word given to his Mother, he pretended, and so caused -it to be noised through the house, that he was to marry a very honourable -Lady; which the constant and chaste maide verily beleeved; and -therefore gave the more diligent attendance (as a new-come servant) -to see all things in due decency, as no one could expresse herselfe more -ready, because she esteemed him above all other men. Yet such was the -obstinate opinion she concerned of her owne precisenesse, as she would -rather suffer all the flames of love, then expresse the least shew of desire -to any man living. Neverthelesse, she was inwardly offended, that any -other should have the honour, to make her vaunt of enjoying <i>Ocharus</i>; -whom (indeed) she coveted, and thought him only worthy in her heart, -to be Son in law to the King of <i>Denmarke</i>.</p> - -<p>Now, as the Mother was very seriously busied in preparing the Castle, -for receiving the pretended Bride; shee employed her new Mayde -(<i>Serictha</i> I meane) as busily as any of the rest. In the meane while, <i>Ocharus</i> -was laid upon a bed, well noting all her carriage and behaviour, shee -having a lighted Candle in her hand, without any Candlesticke to hold -it in. As all the servants (both men and maids) were running hastily from -place to place, to cary such occasions as they were commanded, the candle -was consumed so neere to <i>Sericthaes</i> fingers, that it burned hir hand. -She, not to faile a jote in her height of mind, and to declare that her corage -was invincible; was so farre off from casting away the small snuffe -which offended her, that she rather graspt it the more strongly, even to -the enflaming of her owne flesh, which gave light to the rest about their -businesse. A matter (almost) as marvellous, as the acte of the noble <i>Romane</i>, -who gave his hand to be burned, in presence of the <i>Tuscane</i> King, -that had besiedged <i>Rome</i>. 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.</p> - -<p><i>Ocharus</i>, who (as we have already saide) observed every thing that -<i>Serictha</i> did; perceiving that she spake not one worde, albeit her hand -burned in such fierce manner, was much astonished at her sprightly mind. -And as he was about to advise her, to hurle away the fire so much offending -her; Curiositie (meerely naturall unto Women) made the Ladie -lift uppe her eyes, to see (by stealth) whether her friend had noted -her invincible constancy, or no. Heereby <i>Ocharus</i> 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 used, 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 ever 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 loved and desired, whom I -have followed with such painefull travels, exposing my life to infinite perils -in your service: you have seene and lookt on him, who never craved -any thing of you, but onely this favour, whereof you cannot bereave me -againe, because the Gods themselves, at such time as I least expected it, -have bestowne it on me, as my deserved recompence, and worthy reward.</p> - -<p>In the delivery of these words, he kissed and embraced her a thousand -times, shee not using 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 armes; but rather, evident -signes of hearty contentment, yet in very bashfull and modest manner, -willing enough to accept his loving kindnesse, yet not wandring from -her wonted chaste carriage. He being favourably excused, for the outward -expression of his amourous behaviour 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, never (with her will) to have any other -Husband but <i>Ocharus</i>, who (above all other) had best deserved her, -by his generosity, vertue, manly courage, and valiancy; whereof he might -the better assure himselfe, because (of her owne voluntary disposition) -shee followed to find him out, not for any other occasion, but to revenge -her selfe (by this honest Office) for all that he had done or undertaken, to -winne the grace and love of the King of <i>Denmarkes</i> Daughter, to whom -he presented such dutifull service.</p> - -<p><i>Ocharus</i>, 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 stratagem 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 <i>Serictha</i>. -Not long had these lovers lived in the lawfull and sacred rites of -marriage, but King <i>Siwalde</i> was advertised, that his Daughter had given -her consent to <i>Ocharus</i>, and received him as her noble Husband. The party -was not a jot 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 error 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 <i>Ocharus</i> of overbold -arrogancy, he being such a great and powerfull King, to be so -lightly respected by his Subject, and especially in the marriage of his -Daughter.</p> - -<p>But <i>Serictha</i>, 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 adventurous then she was before. She took the matter -in hand, went to her Father, who welcommed her most lovingly, and so -pleasing were her speeches, carried with such wit and womanly discretion, -that nothing wanted to approve what she had done. Matters which -he had never knowne, or so much as heard of, were now openly revealed, -how <i>Ocharus</i> had delivered her from the ravisher, what worthie respect -he then used 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 advise of his Sonne in -Law, whom so highly he esteemed, and liked so respectively of him, and -his race; that his Queene dying, hee married with the Sister to <i>Ocharus</i>, -going hand in band with the gentle and modest Princesse <i>Serictha</i>.</p> - -<p>This Novell of <i>Dioneus</i>, was commended by all the company, and so -much the rather, because it was free from all folly and obscennesse. And -the Queene perceiving, 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 <i>Philostratus</i>, saying; The worthy Discourse -of <i>Dioneus</i>, 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 us all; and so I yeeld -both my place and honour to <i>Philostratus</i>, I hope with the good liking of -all our assistants: as plainly appeareth by their instant carriage towards -him, with all their heartiest love and sufferages.</p> - -<p>Whereupon <i>Philostratus</i>, 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, everie 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. Lovely Ladies, I would have you to knowe, that -since the time of ability in me, to distinguish betweene good and evill, I -have alwayes bene subject (perhaps by the meanes of some beautie heere -among us) to the proud and imperious dominion of love, with expression -of all duty, humility, and most intimate desire to please: yet all hath -prooved to no purpose, but still I have bin rejected for some other, whereby -my condition hath falne from ill to worse, and so still it is likely, even -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 -cases as are most conformable to my calamity, namely of such, whose love -hath had unhappy ending, because I await no other issue of mine; nor willingly -would I be called by any other name, but onely, the miserable and -unfortunate Lover.</p> - -<p>Having thus spoken, he arose againe; granting leave to the rest, to recreate -themselves till supper time. The Garden was very faire and spacious, -affoording large limits for their severall walkes; the Sun being already -so low descended, that it could not be offensive to anyone, the Connies, -Kids, and young Hindes skipping every where about them, to their -no meane pleasure and contentment. <i>Dioneus</i> & <i>Fiammetta</i>, sate singing -together, of <i>Messire Guiglielmo</i> and the Lady of <i>Vertue. Philomena</i> and -<i>Pamphilus</i> playing at the Chesse, all sporting themselves as best they -pleased. But the houre of Supper being come, and the Tables covered -about the faire fountaine, they sate downe and supt in most loving manner. -Then <i>Philostratus</i>, not to swerve from the course which had beene -observed by the Queenes before him, so soone as the Tables were taken -away, gave command, that Madam <i>Lauretta</i> 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 have 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 lovely, so needs must be -whatsoever commeth from you, therefore let us heare such as you have. -Madam <i>Lauretta</i>, giving enstruction to the Chorus, prepared, and began -in this manner.</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">The Song.<br /></span></i> -</div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">No soule so comfortlesse,<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Hath more cause to expresse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like woe and heavinesse,<br /></span> -<span class="i5">As I poore amorous Maide.<br /></span> -</i></div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">He that did forme the Heavens and every Starre,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Made me as best him pleased,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lovely and gracious, no Element at jarre,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or else in gentle breasts to moove sterne Warre,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">But to have strifes appeased<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where Beauties eye should make the deepest scarre.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And yet when all things are confest,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Never was any soule distrest,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Like mine poore amorous Maide.<br /></span> -<span class="i11">No soule so comfortlesse, &c.<br /></span> -</i></div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">There was a time, when once I was helde deare,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Blest were those happy dayes:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Numberlesse Love-suites whispred in mine eare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All of faire hope, but none of desperate feare;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And all sung Beauties praise.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why should blacke clowdes obscure so bright a cleare?<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And why should others swimme in joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And no heart drowned in annoy,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Like mine poore amorous Maide?<br /></span> -<span class="i11">No soule so comfortlesse, &c.<br /></span> -</i></div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">Well may I curse that sad and dismall day,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">When in unkinde exchange;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Another Beauty did my hopes betray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stole my dearest Love from me away:<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Which I thought very strange,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Considering vowes were past, and what else may<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Assure a loyall Maidens trust,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Never was Lover so unjust,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Like mine poore amorous Maide.<br /></span> -<span class="i11">No soule so comfortlesse, &c.<br /></span> -</i></div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">Come then kinde Death, and finish all my woes,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Thy helpe is now the best.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come lovely Nymphes, lend hands mine eyes to close,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let him wander wheresoere he goes,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Vaunting of mine unrest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beguiling others by his treacherous showes,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Grave on my Monument,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">No true love was worse spent,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Then mine poore amorous Maide.<br /></span> -<span class="i11">No soule so comfortlesse, &c.<br /></span> -</i></div></div> - -<p>So did Madam <i>Lauretta</i> finish her Song, which beeing well observed of -them all, was understood by some in divers kinds: some alluding it one -way, & others according to their own apprehensions, but all consenting, -that both it was an excellent Ditty, well devised, and most sweetly sung. -Afterward, lighted Torches being brought, because the Stars had already -richly spangled all the heavens, and the fit houre of rest approaching: -the King commanded them all to their Chambers, where wee meane to -leave them untill the next morning.</p> - - -<h4><i>The End of the Third Day.</i></h4> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="The_Fourth_Day" id="The_Fourth_Day">The Fourth Day.</a></h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein all the severall Discourses, are under the -Government of Honourable</i> Philostratus: <i>And concerning such persons, -whose Loves have had successelesse ending.</i></h4> - -<h4>The Induction unto the ensuing -Novelles.</h4> - - -<p>Most worthy Ladies, I have alwayes heard, as well -by the sayings of the judicious, as also by mine -owne observation and reading, that the impetuous -and violent windes of envy, do sildome blow -turbulently; but on the highest Towers and tops -of the trees most eminently advanced. Yet (in -mine opinion) I have found my selfe much deceived; -because, by striving with my very uttermost -endeavour, to shunne the outrage of those implacable winds; I have laboured -to go, not onely by plaine and even pathes, but likewise through -the deepest vallies. As very easily may be seene and observed in the reading -of these few small Novels, which I have written not only in our vulgar -<i>Florentine</i> prose, without any ambitious title: but also in a most humble -stile, so low and gentle as possibly I could. And although I have bene -rudely shaken, yea, almost halfe unrooted, by the extreame agitation of -those blustering winds, and torne in peeces by that base back-biter, envy: -yet have 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 observed by the wise, to bee most -true; That nothing is without envy in this world, but misery onely.</p> - -<p>Among variety of opinions, faire Ladies; some, seeing these Novelties, -spared not to say; That I have bene over-pleasing to you, and wandered -too farre from mine owne respect, imbasing my credit and repute, by delighting -my selfe too curiously, for the fitting of your humours, and have -extolled your worth too much, with addition of worse speeches then I -meane to utter. Others, seeming to expresse more maturity of judgment, -have likewise said, That it was very unsuteable for my yeares, to meddle -with womens wanton pleasures, or contend to delight you by the verie -least of my labours. Many more, making shew of affecting my good fame -and esteeme, say; I had done much more wisely, to have kept mee with -the Muses at <i>Parnassus</i>, 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 travailes, would make you beleeve, -that such matters as I have 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 perceive (vertuous Ladies) how while I labour -in your service, I am agitated and molested with these blusterings, -and bitten even to the bare bones, by the sharpe and venomous teeth of -envy; all which (as heaven best knoweth) I gladly endure, and with good -courage.</p> - -<p>Now, albeit it belongeth onely to you, to defend me in this desperate -extremity; yet, notwithstanding all their utmost malice, I will make no -spare of my best abilities, and, without answering them any otherwise -then is fitting, will quietly keepe their slanders from mine eares, with -some sleight reply, yet not deserving to be dreamt on. For I apparantly -perceive, that (having not already attained to the third part of my pains) -they are growne to so great a number, and presume very farre uppon my -patience: they may encrease, except they be repulsed 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 serve for me in their resistance. -But before I come to answer any one of them, I will relate a Tale in mine -owne favour; 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 untold, may sufficiently expresse, it is not to be numbred -among the rest to come.</p> - -<p>By way then of familiar discourse, and speaking to my malicious detractors, -I say, that a long while since, there lived in our City, a Citizen who -was named <i>Philippo Balduccio</i>, a man but of meane condition, yet verie -wealthy, well qualified, and expert in many things appertaining unto his -calling. He had a wife whom he loved 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, leaving 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 jewell of his joy. -And being thus divided from the company which he most esteemed: he -determined also to separate himselfe from the world, addicting al his endeavours -to the service of God; and applying his yong sonne likewise, to -the same holy exercises. Having given away all his goods for Gods sake, -he departed to the Mountaine <i>Asinaio</i>, where he made him a small Cell, -and lived there with his little sonne, onely upon 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 devout prayers, leading this kinde of life for many yeares -together, not permitting him ever to goe forth of the Cell, or shewing -him any other but himselfe.</p> - -<p>The good old man used divers times to go to <i>Florence</i>, where having -received (according to his opportunities) the almes of divers 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 resolved him: whereuppon, the youth thus spake unto -him. Father, you are now growne very aged, and hardly can endure such -painfull travell: why do you not let me go to <i>Florence</i>, that by making -me knowne to your well disposed friends, such as are devoutly addicted -both to God, and you; I, who am young, and better able to endure travaile -then you are, may go thither to supply our necessities, and you take -your ease in the mean while? The aged man, perceiving the great growth -of his Sonne, and thinking him to be so well instructed in Gods service, -as no wordly vanities could easily allure him from it; did not dislike the -Lads honest motion, but when he went next to <i>Florence</i>, tooke him thither -along with him.</p> - -<p>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 never 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 resolved 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; whereto -the olde man replyed thus. Sonne, cast downe thy lookes unto 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.</p> - -<p>Heere grew a matter of no meane mervaile, that hee who had never -seene any women before now; appeared not to respect the faire Churches, -Palaces, goodly horses, Golde, Silver, or any thing else which he -had seene; but, as fixing his affection onely upon this sight, sodainly said -to the old man. Good Father, do so much for me, as to let me have one -of these Gozlings. Alas Sonne (replyed the Father) holde thy peace I -pray thee, and do not desire any such naughty things. Then by way of demand, -he thus proceeded, saying. Father, are these naughty things made -of themselves? 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 judgement, I have 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 have shewn me. And -therefore Father, if either you love me, or have any care of me, let mee -have one of these 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. Perceiving -presently, that Nature had farre greater power then his Sonnes -capacity and understanding; which made him repent, for fondly bringing -his sonne to <i>Florence</i>.</p> - -<p>Having 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 envious depravers: such as have saide (faire Ladies) that I am double -blame-worthy, in seeking to please you, and that you are also over-pleasing -to me; which freely I confesse before all the world, that you are -singularly pleasing to me, and I have stroven how to please you effectually. -I would demand of them (if they seeme so much amazed heereat,) -considering, I never knew what belonged to true love kisses, amorous -embraces, and their delectable fruition, so often received from your graces; -but onely that I have seene, and do yet daily behold, your commendable -conditions, admired beauties, noble adornments by nature, and -(above all the rest) your womenly and honest conversation. If hee that -was nourished, bred, and educated, on a savage solitary Mountain, within -the confines of a poore small Cell, having no other company then his -Father: If such a one, I say, uppon the very first sight of your sexe, could -so constantly confesse, that women were onely worthy of affection, and -the object which (above 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 endeavour likewise to please you with my utmost -paines? Never had the auspitious heavens allowed me life, but onely to -love you; and from my very infancie, mine intentions have alwaies bene -that way bent: feeling what vertue flowed from your faire eies, understanding -the mellifluous accents of your speech, whereto the enkindled -flames of your sighes gave no meane grace. But remembring especially, -that nothing could so please an Hermite, as your divine perfections, an -unnurtured Lad, without understanding, and little differing from a meere -brutish beast: undoubtedly, whosoever loveth not women, and desireth -to be affected of them againe; may well be ranked among these women-haters, -speaking out of cankred spleene, and utterly ignorant of the sacred -power (as also the vertue) of naturall affection, whereof they seeming so -carelesse, the like am I of their depraving.</p> - -<p>Concerning them that touch me with mine age; Do not they know, -that although Leeks have white heads, yet the blades of them are alwaies -greene? But referring them to their flouts and taunts, I answer, that I shal -never hold it any disparagement to mee, so long as my life endureth, to -delight my selfe with those exercises, which <i>Guido Cavalconti</i>, and <i>Dante -Alighieri</i>, already aged, as also <i>Messer Cino de Pistoia</i>, 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 -approove 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.</p> - -<p>Now, for my dwelling at <i>Parnassus</i> with the Muses, I confesse their -counsell to be very good: but wee cannot alwayes continue with them, -nor they with us. And yet neverthelesse, when any man departeth from -them, they delighting themselves, to see such things as may bee thought -like them, do not therein deserve 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 have a lively 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 have bin the occasion of my composing a thousand Verses, -whereas the Muses never caused me to make so much as one. Verie true -it is, that they gave me good assistance, and taught me how I shold compose -them, yea, and directed me in writing of these Novels. And how -basely soever they judge of my studies, yet have the Muses never scorned -to dwell with me, perhaps for the respective service, and honourable resemblance -of those Ladies with themselves, whose vertues I have not -spared to commend by them. Wherefore, in the composition of these -varieties, I have not strayed so farre from <i>Parnassus</i>, nor the Muses; as in -their silly conjectures they imagine.</p> - -<p>But what shall I say to them, who take so great compassion on my povertie, -as they advise me to get something, whereon to make my living? -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 -drive me to crave kindnesse of them; questionles, they would then say: -Goe, seeke comfort among thy fables and follies. Yet I would have them -know, that poore Poets have alwayes found more among their fables & -fictions; then many rich men ever 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 inventions and fables: whereas on -the contrary, a great number of other busier braines, seeking to gaine -more then would serve them to live on; have utterly runne uppon their -owne ruine, and overthrowne themselves for ever. What should I say -more? To such men, as are either so suspitious of their owne charitie, or -of my necessity, whensoever it shall happen: I can answere (I thanke my -God for it) with the Apostle; I know how to abounde, & 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.</p> - -<p>For them that are so inquisitive into my discourses, to have 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 jot discordant from my writing; -and then I would freely confesse, that they had some reason to reprehend -me, and I should endeavour to make them amends. But untill -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 projected -to my selfe, saying of them, as they do of me.</p> - -<p>Thus holding them all sufficiently answered for this time, I say (most -worthy Ladies) that by heavens 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, driving it from one place to another; or, carrying it up to the -aire, many times it falleth downe againe on mens heads, yea, upon 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 ever I strove to please you with my uttermost abilities in any -thing, surely I must now contend to expresse it more then ever. For, I -know right well, that no man can say with reason, except some such as -my selfe, who love and honour you, that we do any otherwise then as nature -hath commanded us; and to resist her lawes, requires a greater and -more powerfull strength then ours: and the contenders against her supreame -priviledges, have either laboured meerely in vaine, or else incurred -their owne bane. Which strength, I freely confesse my selfe not to -have, neither covet 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 use it on mine own behalfe. -Wherefore, I would advise them that thus checke and controule mee, to -give over, and be silent; and if their cold humours cannot learne to love, -let them live still in their frostie complexion, delighting themselves in their -corrupted appetites: suffering me to enjoy mine owne, for the little while -I have to live; and this is all the kindnesse I require of them.</p> - -<p>But now it is time (bright beauties) to returne whence we parted, and -to follow our former order begun, because it may seeme we have wandered -too farre. By this time the Sun had chased the Starre-light from the -heavens, and the shadie moisture from the ground, when <i>Philostratus</i> 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 <i>Fiammetta</i>, that she should give beginning -to the dayes Novels: when she, without any longer delaying, began in -this gracious manner.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Tancrede_Prince_of_Salerne_caused_the_amorous_friend_of_his_daughter_to_be" id="Tancrede_Prince_of_Salerne_caused_the_amorous_friend_of_his_daughter_to_be">Tancrede, <i>Prince of</i> Salerne, <i>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.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The first Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is declared the power of Love, and their cruelty justly reprehended, -who imagine to make the vigour thereof cease, by abusing or killing one of -the Lovers.</i></h4> - - -<p>Our King (most Noble and vertuous Ladies) hath -this day given us a subject, 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 reviving the teares of others, -to bedew our owne cheekes withall. Nor can any -such argument be spoken of, without moving compassion -both in the reporters, and hearers. But (perhaps) it was his highnesse -pleasure, to moderate the delights which we have already had. Or -whatsoever else hath provoked him thereto, seeing it is not lawfull for -mee, to alter or contradict his appointment; I will recount an accident -very pittiful, or rather most unfortunate, and well worthy to bee graced -with our teares.</p> - -<p><i>Tancrede</i>, Prince of <i>Salerne</i> (which City, before the Consulles of <i>Rome</i> -held dominion in that part of <i>Italy</i>, 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 Lovers, especially one of them, being both neere and deere -unto 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 loved and esteemed, as never was -any childe more deerely affected of a Father: and so farre extended his -over-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 divers yeares) the age meete for marriage. Neverthelesse, at -length, he matched her with the Sonne to the Duke of <i>Capua</i>, who lived -no long while with her; but left her in a widdowed estate, and then shee -returned home to her father againe.</p> - -<p>This Lady, had all the most absolute perfections, both of favour and -feature, as could be wished in any woman, yong, queintly disposed, and -of admirable understanding, more (perhappes) then was requisite in so -weake a bodie. Continuing thus in Court with the King her Father, who -loved her beyond all his future hopes; like a Lady of great and glorious -magnificence, she lived in all delights & pleasure. She well perceiving, -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 private consultations, to -make choise of some one especiall friend or favourite (if Fortune would -prove 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 brave Gentlemen, and others of inferiour -quality, as commonly the Courts of Kings & Princes are, whose -carriage and demeanor she very heedfully observed. There was a yong -Gentleman among all the rest, a servant to her Father, and named <i>Guiscardo</i>, -a man not derived from any great descent by bloode, yet much -more Noble by vertue and commendable behaviour, 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 Bavin to take flame, yet kept so closely as -possibly she could; as Ladies are warie enough in their love.</p> - -<p>The yong Gentleman, though poore, being neither blocke nor dullard, -perceived what he made no outward shew of, and understood 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 loving mutually (yet secretly) in this manner, -and shee coveting nothing more, then to have private conference -with him, yet not daring to trust anyone with so important a matter; at -length she devised a new cunning stratageme, to compasse her longing -desire, and acquaint him with her private purpose, which proved to bee -in this manner. Shee wrote a Letter, concerning what was the next day -to be done, for their secret meeting together; and conveying it within -the joynt of an hollow Cane, in jesting manner threw it to <i>Guiscardo</i>, saying; -Let your man make use of this, insted of a paire of bellowes, when -he meaneth to make fire in your chamber. <i>Guiscardo</i> taking up the Cane, -and considering with himselfe, that neither was it given, or the wordes -thus spoken, but doubtlesse on some important occasion: went unto his -lodging with the Cane, where viewing it respectively, he found it to be -cleft, and opening it with his knife, found there the written Letter enclosed.</p> - -<p>After he had reade it, and well considered on the service therein concerned; -he was the most joyfull man of the world, and began to contrive -his aptest meanes, for meeting with his gracious Mistresse, and according -as she had given him direction. In a corner of the Kings Palace, it -being seated on a rising hill, a cave had long beene made in the body of -the same hill, which received no light into it, but by a small spiracle or -vent-loope, made out ingeniously on the hills side. And because it hadde -not in long time bene frequented, by the accesse of any body, that vent-light -was over-growne with briars and bushes, which almost engirt it -round about. No one could descend into this cave 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 cave 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.</p> - -<p>But Love, 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 discovered -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 cave; observing the loope-light, & -had made it commodious for her purpose, shee gave knowledge thereof -to <i>Guiscardo</i>, to have him devise 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 hills side, and given it a -larger entrance for his safer passage; he provided a Ladder of cords, with -steppes sufficient for his descending and ascending, as also a wearing sute -made of leather, to keepe his skinne unscratched of the thornes, and to avoide -all suspition of his resorting thither. In this manner went he to the -saide loope-hole the night following, and having 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 cave, and there -attended the comming of his Lady.</p> - -<p>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 leave her alone in her Chamber, and not -to returne untill she called for them, locking the doore her selfe for better -security. Then opened she the doore of the cave, and going downe -the staires, found there her amorous friend <i>Guiscardo</i>, whom she saluting -with a chaste and modest kisse; caused him to ascend up the stayres with -her into her chamber. This long desired, and now obtained meeting, -caused the two deerely affecting Lovers, in kinde discourse of amorous -argument (without incivill or rude demeanor) to spend there the most -part of that day, to their hearts joy and mutuall contentment. And having -concluded on their often meeting there, in this cunning & concealed -sort; <i>Guiscardo</i> went downe into the cave againe, the Princesse making -the doore fast after him, and then went forth among her Women. -So in the night season, <i>Guiscardo</i> ascended uppe againe by his Ladder of -cords, and covering the loope-hole with brambles and bushes, returned -(unseene of any) to his owne lodging: the cave being afterward guilty of -their often meeting there in this manner.</p> - -<p>But Fortune, who hath alwayes bin a fatall enemy to lovers stolne felicities, -became envious of their thus secret meeting, and overthrew (in -an instant) all their poore happinesse, by an accident most spightfull and -malicious. The King had used divers dayes before, after dinner time, to -resort all alone to his daughters Chamber, there conversing with her in -most loving manner. One unhappy day amongst the rest, when the Princesse, -being named <i>Ghismonda</i>, was sporting in her privat 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 have 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 upon the bed; his body being covered with the -curtaine, as if he hid himselfe purposely; hee mused on so many matters, -untill at last he fell fast asleepe.</p> - -<p>It hath bin observed as an ancient Adage, that when disasters are ordained -to any one, commonly they prove to be inevitable, as poore <i>Ghismonda</i> -could witnesse too well. For, while the King thus slept, shee having -(unluckily) appointed another meeting with <i>Guiscardo</i>, left hir Gentlewomen -in the Garden, and stealing softly into her Chamber, having -made all fast and sure, for being descried by any person: opened the doore -to <i>Guiscardo</i>, 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 usuall kinde conference againe, with sighes and -loving kisses mingled among them. It chanced that the King awaked, & -both hearing and seeing this familiarity of <i>Guiscardo</i> with his Daughter, -he became extreamly confounded with greefe thereat. Once he intended, -to cry out for helpe, to have 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 less disgrace to himselfe, performe what hee had rashly -intended to do.</p> - -<p>The poore discovered Lovers, having ended their amorous interparlance, -without suspition of the Kings being so neer in person, or any els, -to betray their over-confident trust; <i>Guiscardo</i> descended againe into the -Cave, and she leaving the Chamber, returned to her women in the Garden; -all which <i>Tancrede</i> too well observed, and in a rapture of fury, departed -(unseene) into his owne lodging. The same night, about the houre -of mens first sleepe, and according as he had given order; <i>Guiscardo</i> was -apprehended, even 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. <i>Guiscardo</i>, the love & -respect I have used towards thee, hath not deserved the shameful wrong -which thou hast requited me withall, and as I have seene with mine owne -eyes this day. Whereto <i>Guiscardo</i> could answer nothing else, but onely -this: Alas my Lord! Love is able to do much more, then either you, or -I. Whereupon, <i>Tancrede</i> commanded, that he should bee secretly well -guarded, in a neere adjoining Chamber, and on the next day, <i>Ghismonda</i> -having (as yet) heard nothing heereof, the Kings braine being infinitely -busied and troubled, after dinner, and as he often had used 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.</p> - -<p><i>Ghismonda</i>, I was once grounded in a setled perswasion, that I truely -knew thy vertue, and honest integrity of life; and this beleefe could never -have bene altred in mee, by any sinister reports whatsoever, had not -mine eyes seene, and mine eares heard the contrary. Nor did I so much -as conceive a thought either of thine affection, or private conversing -with any man, but onely he that was to be thy husband. But now, I my -selfe being able to avouch 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 have 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 converse with that silly yong man <i>Guiscardo</i>, -one of very meane and base descent, and by mee (even for Gods -sake) from his very youngest yeares, brought uppe to this instant in my -Court; wherein thou hast given me much affliction of minde, and so overthrowne -my senses, as I cannot wel imagine how I should deale with -thee. For him, whom I have this night caused to be surprized, even as he -came forth of your close contrived conveyance, and detaine as my prisoner, -I have resolved 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 unfeigned affection I -bare thee, as never any father could expresse more to his child: and then -againe, thou hast kindled a most just indignation in me, by thine immodest -and wilfull folly, and whereas Nature pleadeth pardon for the one, -yet justice standeth up against the other, and urgeth cruell severity against -thee: neverthelesse, before I will determine upon 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.</p> - -<p>Having thus spoken, he hung downe the head in his bosome, weeping -as abundantly, as if it had beene a childe severely disciplinde. On the other -side, <i>Ghismonda</i> hearing the speeches of her Father, and perceiving -withall, that not onely her secret love was discovered, but also <i>Guiscardo</i> -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 unto: but rather, with -height of courage, controling feare or servile basenesse, and declaring invincible -fortitude in her very lookes, shee concluded with her selfe, rather -then to urge any humble perswasions, shee would lay her life downe at -the stake. For plainely shee perceived, that <i>Guiscardo</i> already was a dead -man in Law, and death was likewise as welcome to her, rather then the -deprivation of her Love; 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.</p> - -<p><i>Tancrede</i>, to denie what I have done, or to entreate any favour from -you, is now no part of my disposition: for as the one can little availe me, -so shall not the other any way advantage me. Moreover, I covet 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 have loved, and still doe, honourable <i>Guiscardo</i>, purposing -the like so long as I shall live, which will be but a small while: but if it -bee possible to continue the same affection after death, it is for ever -vowed to him onely. Nor did mine owne womanish weaknesse so much -thereto induce me, as the matchlesse vertues shining cleerely in <i>Guiscardo</i>, -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, have begotten a Daughter of the selfe same composition, and not -made of stone or yron. Moreover, 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 evermore were exercised -in Armes; yet you should likewise understand, that negligence and idle -delights, have mighty power, not onely in yong people, but also in them -of greatest yeeres.</p> - -<p>I being then made of flesh and blood, and so derived from your selfe; -having 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 -subject to naturall desires, wherein such knowledge as I have once already -had, in the estate of my marriage, perhaps might move a further intelligence -of the like delights, according to the better ability of strength, -which exceeding all capacity of resistance, induced a second motive to -affection, answerable to my time and youthfull desires, and so (like a yong -woman) I became amorous againe; yet did I strive, even with all my utmost -might, and best vertuous faculties abiding in me, no way to disgrace -either you or my selfe, as (in equall censure) yet I have not done. But Nature -is above all humane power, and Love, commanded by Nature, hath -prevailed for Love, joyning with Fortune: in meere pity 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, howsoever you became instructed, or (perhaps) -found it out by accident; so it was, and I denie it not.</p> - -<p>Nor did I make election of <i>Guiscardo</i> by chance, or rashly, as many -women doe, but by deliberate counsell in my soule, and most mature advise; -I chose him above all other, and having his honest harmelesse conversation, -mutually we enjoyed our hearts contentment. Now it appeareth, -that I having not offended but by love; in imitation of vulgar opinion, -rather then truth: you seeke to reprove 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 evident, that you doe -not so much checke my fault, as the ordination of Fortune; who many -times advanceth men of meanest esteeme, and abaseth them of greater -merit. But leaving this discourse, let us looke into the originall of things, -wherein wee are first to observe, that from one masse or lumpe of flesh, -both we, and all other received 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 unnoble: now althogh contrary -use did afterward hide and conceale this Law, yet was it not therefore -banished from Nature or good manners. In which respect, whosoever -did execute all his actions by vertue, declared himselfe openly to be -noble; and he that tearmed him otherwise, it was an error in the miscaller, -and not in the person so wrongfully called; as the very same priviledge -is yet in full force among us at this day.</p> - -<p>Cast an heedfull eye then (good Father) upon all your Gentlemen, and -advisedly examine their vertues, conditions and manner of behaviour. -On the other side, observe those parts remaining in <i>Guiscardo</i>: and then, -if you will judge 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 never -credited from the report or judgement of any person; but onely by your -speeches, and mine owne eyes as true witnesses. Who did ever more -commend <i>Guiscardo</i>, extolling all those singularities in him, most requisite -to be in an honest vertuous man; then you your selfe have done? Nor -neede you to be sorry, or ashamed of your good opinion concerning -him; for, if mine eyes have not deceived my judgement, you never -gave him the least part of praise, but I have knowne much more in him, -then ever your words were able to expresse: wherefore, if I have beene -any way deceived, truly the deceit proceeded onely from you. How will -you then maintaine, that I have 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 -have not bestowne place of more preferment, on a man so honest and -well deserving, and having beene so long a time your servant. Neverthelesse, -poverty impaireth not any part of noble Nature, but wealth hurries -it into horrible confusions. Many Kings and great Princes have -heretofore beene poore, when divers of them that have delved into the -Earth, and kept Flockes in the Feld, have beene advanced to riches, and -exceeded the other in wealth.</p> - -<p>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 have resolved now in your extremity of yeeres, to -doe that which your younger dayes evermore despised, I meane, to become -cruell; use your utmost cruelty against me, for I will never entreate -you to the contrary, because I am the sole occasion of this offence, if it -doe deserve the name of an offence. And this I dare assure you, that if -you deale not with me, as you have done already, or intend to <i>Guiscardo</i>, -mine owne hands shall act as much: and therefore give over 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 have deserved it.</p> - -<p>The King knew well enough the high spirit of his Daughter, but yet -(neverthelesse) he did not beleeve, that her words would prove actions, -or shee doe as shee saide. And therefore parting from her, and without -intent of using 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 <i>Guiscardo</i>) 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 <i>Guiscardo</i>, sending it by -one of his most familiar servants to his Daughter, with command also to -use these words to her. Thy Father hath sent thee this present, to comfort -thee with that thing which most of all thou affectest, even as thou -hast comforted him with that which he most hated.</p> - -<p><i>Ghismonda</i>, 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, whensoever any crosse accident should come from her Father; -whereupon, when the messenger from her Father had delivered her the -present, and uttered 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 certainely, that it was the heart of -<i>Guiscardo</i>; then looking stearnely on the servant, thus she spake unto him. -My honest friend, it is no more then right and justice, that so worthy a -heart as this is, should have any worser grave then gold, wherein my Father -hath dealt most wisely. So, lifting the heart up to her mouth; and -sweetly kissing it, shee proceeded thus. In all things, even till this instant, -(being the utmost period of my life) I have evermore found my Fathers -love most effectuall to me; but now it appeareth farre greater, then -at any time heretofore: and therefore from my mouth, thou must deliver -him the latest thankes that ever I shall give him, for sending me such an -honourable present.</p> - -<p>These words being ended, holding the Cup fast in her hand, and looking -seriously upon 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 travailes and miseries of this World, have -now no more to meddle with thee, and thy very heaviest enemy, hath bestowed -such a grave on thee, as thy greatnesse in vertue worthily deserveth; -now nothing else is wanting, wherewith to beautifie thy Funerall, -but onely her sighes & teares, that was so deare unto thee in thy life time. -And because thou mightest the more freely enjoy 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 resolved, to -die with drie eyes, and not shedding one teare, dreadlesse of their utmost -malice towards me.</p> - -<p>And when I have given thee the due oblation of my teares, my soule, -which sometime thou hast kept most carefully, shall come to make a -sweete conjunction with thine: for in what company else can I travaile -more contentedly, and to those unfrequented silent shades, but onely in -thine? As yet I am sure it is present here, in this Cup sent me by my Father, -as having a provident 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.</p> - -<p>Having thus finished her complaint, even as if her head had been converted -into a well-spring of water, so did teares abundantly flow from her -faire eyes, kissing the heart of <i>Guiscardo</i> 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 moved to compassionate teares, -they often demanded (albeit in vaine) the occasion of her sad complaining, -comforting her to their utmost power. When shee was not able -to weepe any longer, wiping her eyes, and lifting up 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 uneffected; -but onely breathing my last, to let my ghost accompany thine.</p> - -<p>Then calling for the glasse of water, which shee had readily prepared -the day before, and powring it upon the heart lying in the Cup, couragiously -advancing it to her mouth, shee dranke it up every drop; which being -done, shee lay downe upon her bed, holding her Lovers 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 upon her bed; beholding -her in such passionate pangs, with teares streaming downe his reverend -beard, he used many kinde words to comfort her, when boldly thus shee -spake unto him. Father (quoth she) well may you spare these teares, because -they are unfitting for you, and not any way desired by me; who but -your selfe, hath seene any man to mourne for his owne wilfull offence. -Neverthelesse, if but the least jot of that love doe yet abide in you, whereof -you have made such liberall profession to me; let me obtaine this my -very last request, to wit, that seeing I might not privately enjoy the benefit -of <i>Guiscardoes</i> love, and while he lived; let yet (in death) one publike -grave containe both our bodies, that death may affoord us, what you so -cruelly in life denied us.</p> - -<p>Extremity of griefe and sorrow, with-held his tongue from returning -any answer, and shee perceiving her end approaching, held the heart still -closed to her owne bare brest, saying; Here Fortune, receive two true -hearts latest oblation, for, in this manner are we comming to thee. So -closing her eyes, all sense forsooke her, life leaving her body breathlesse. -Thus ended the haplesse love of <i>Guiscardo</i>, and <i>Ghismonda</i>, for whose sad -disaster, when the King had mourned sufficiently, and repented fruitlessly; -he caused both their bodies to be honourably embalmed, and buried -in a most royall Monument, not without generall sorrow of the subjects -of <i>Salerne</i>.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Fryar_Albert_made_a_young_Venetian_Gentlewoman_beleeve_that_God_Cupid" id="Fryar_Albert_made_a_young_Venetian_Gentlewoman_beleeve_that_God_Cupid"><i>Fryar</i> Albert <i>made a young Venetian Gentlewoman beleeve, that God</i> Cupid -<i>was falne in love with her, and he resorted oftentimes unto 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 savage man, he was brought upon the Rialto of Saint</i> Marke, <i>and being -there publikely knowne by the Brethren of his Order; he was committed to -Prison.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The second Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Reprehending the lewd lives of dissembling hypocrites; and checking the arrogant -pride of vaine-headed women.</i></h4> - -<p>The Novell recounted by Madam <i>Fiammetta</i>, 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 have commended -the kindnesse of fortune, if in the whole course of my life, I had tasted the -least moity of that delight, which <i>Guiscardo</i> received by conversing with -faire <i>Ghismonda</i>. Nor neede any of you to wonder thereat, or how it can -be otherwise, because hourely I feele a thousand dying torments, without -enjoying any hope of ease or pleasure: but referring my fortunes to their -owne poore condition, it is my will, that Madam <i>Pampinea</i> proceed next -in the argument of successelesse love, according as Madam <i>Fiammetta</i> -hath already begun, to let fall more dew-drops on the fire of mine afflictions. -Madam <i>Pampinea</i> perceiving what a taske was imposed on her, knew -well (by her owne disposition) the inclination of the company, whereof -shee was more respective, 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.</p> - -<p>It hath been continually used as a common Proverbe; that a bad man, -taken and reputed to be honest and good, may commit many evils, yet -neither credited, or suspected: which proverbe giveth mee very ample -matter to speake of, and yet not varying from our intention, concerning -the hypocrisie of some religious persons, who having their garments -long and large, their faces made artificially pale, their language meeke -and humble, to get mens goods from them; yet sower, harsh, and stearne -enough, in checking and controuling other mens errors, as also in urging -others to give, and themselves to take, without any other hope or -meanes of salvation. Nor doe they endeavour like other men, to worke -out their soules health with feare and trembling; but, even as if they were -sole owners, Lords, and possessors of Paradice, will appoint to every 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 deceive themselves, but all such as give 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 under their holy habites: and I -would wish, that their lies and deluding should speed with them, as they -did with a <i>Franciscane</i> Friar, none of the younger Novices, but one of -them of greatest reputation, and belonging to one of the best Monasteries -in <i>Venice</i>. Which I am the rather desirous to report, to recreate your -spirits, after your teares for the death of faire <i>Ghismonda</i>.</p> - -<p>Sometime (Honourable Ladies) there lived in the City of <i>Imola</i>, a -man of most lewd and wicked life; named, <i>Bertho de la massa</i>, 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 delivered a matter of sound truth. Wherefore, perceiving -that his lewdnesse allowed him no longer dwelling there; like a desperate -adventurer, he transported himselfe thence to <i>Venice</i>, the receptacle of all -foule sinne and abhomination, intending there to exercise his wonted -bad behaviour, and live as wickedly as ever 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 devotion, becomming much more Catholike then any other -man, taking on him the profession of a <i>Franciscane Cordelier</i>, and calling -himselfe Fryar <i>Albert</i> of <i>Imola</i>.</p> - -<p>In this habite and outward appearance, hee seemed to leade an austere -and sanctimonious life, highly commending penance & abstinence, -never eating flesh, or drinking wine, but when hee was provided 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. Moreover, being -made Priest, when he was celebrating Masse at the Altar, if he saw himselfe -to be observed by any; he would most mournefully reade the passion -of our Saviour, as one whose teares cost him little, whensoever hee -pleased to use them: so that, in a short while, by his preaching and teares, -he fed the humours of the <i>Venetians</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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 -<i>Frances</i> himselfe had hardly any more. It fortuned, that a young Gentlewoman, -being somewhat foolish, wanton and proud minded, named -Madam <i>Lisetta de Caquirino</i>, wife to a wealthy Merchant, who went with -certaine Gallies into <i>Flanders</i>, 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 <i>Venetians</i> are presumptuous, vaine-glorious, -and witted much like to their skittish Gondoloes) she made a very short -rehearsall of her sinnes. At length Fryar <i>Albert</i> demanded of her, whether -shee had any amorous friend or lover? Her patience being exceedingly -provoked, stearne anger appeared in her lookes, which caused her -to returne him this answer. How now Sir <i>Domine</i>? what? have you no -eyes in your head? Can you not distinguish between mine, and these other -common beauties? I could have Lovers 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 have you beheld, any way answerable to -mine, and are more fit for Gods, then mortals.</p> - -<p>Many other idle speeches shee uttered, in proud opinion of her beauty, -whereby Friar <i>Albert</i> presently perceived, 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. Neverthelesse, -to shew himselfe an holy and religious man now, he began to -reprehend her, and told her plainely, that she was vain-glorious, and overcome -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 <i>Albert</i>, being loth -to offend her any further; after confession was fully ended, let her passe -away among the other Gentlewomen, she giving him divers disdainfull -lookes.</p> - -<p>Within some few dayes after, taking one of his trusty brethren in his -company, he went to the House of Madam <i>Lisetta</i>, where requiring to -have some conference alone with her selfe; shee tooke him into a private -Parlour, 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 used to you the other day, when you were with -me at confession: because, the very night ensuing thereon, I was chastised -in such cruell manner, as I was never able to stirre forth of my bed, -untill this very instant morning; whereto the weake witted Gentlewoman -thus replyed. And who I pray you (quoth she) did chastise you so severely? -I will tell you Madam, said Friar <i>Albert</i>, but it is a matter of admirable -secrecie.</p> - -<p>Being alone by my selfe the same night in my Dorter, and in very serious -devotion, according to my usuall 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 Quiver 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 reprove the -celestiall beauty of Madam <i>Lisetta</i>, who (next to my Mother <i>Venus</i>) I -love most dearely. Whereupon I perceived, he was the great commanding -God <i>Cupid</i>, and therefore I craved most humbly pardon of him. I -will pardon thee (quoth he) but upon this condition, that thou goe to -her so soone as conveniently thou canst, and (by lowly humility) prevaile -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.</p> - -<p>Mistresse shallow braine, being swolne big with this wind, like an empty -bladder; conceived no small pride in hearing these words, constantly -crediting them to be true, and therefore thus answered. Did I not tel you -Father <i>Albert</i>, that my beauty was celestiall? But I sweare by my beauty, -notwithstanding your idle passed arrogancy, I am heartily sorry for your -so severe correction; which that it may no more be inflicted on you, I doe -freely pardon you; yet with this <i>proviso</i>, that you tell me, what the God -else saide unto you; whereto Fryar <i>Albert</i> thus replyed. Madam, seeing -you have so graciously vouchsafed to pardon me, I will thankfully tell -you all: but you must be very carefull and respective, that whatsoever I -shall reveale unto you, must so closely be concealed, as no living creature -in the World may know it; for you are the onely happy Lady now -living, and that happinesse relieth on your silence and secrecie: with solemne -vowes and protestations shee sealed up her many promises, and -then the Fryar thus proceeded.</p> - -<p>Madam, the further charge imposed on me by God <i>Cupid</i>, 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 conversing with you. But -in regard he is a God, and meerely a spirit in forme, whereby neither you -or any else have 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, giving -me charge also to know of you, when you shall please to have him -come, and in whose similitude you would have him to come, whereof he -will not faile; in which respect, you may justly thinke your selfe to be the -onely happy woman living, and farre beyond all other in your good -fortune.</p> - -<p>Mistris want-wit presently answered, shee was well contented, that -God <i>Cupid</i> should love her, and she would returne the like love againe to -him; protesting withall, that wheresoever shee should see his majesticall -picture, she would set a hallowed burning Taper before it. Moreover, -at all times he should be most welcome to her, whensoever hee would -vouchsafe to visite her; for, he should alwayes finde her alone in her private -Chamber: on this condition, that his olde Love <i>Psyches</i>, and all other -beauties else whatsoever, 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 offensive to her.</p> - -<p>Madam (quoth Friar <i>Albert</i>) most wisely have you answered, & leave -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 prejudice 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 give him -entertainment, without any taxation of the world, or ill apprehension of -the most curious inquisition. Beside, a greater happinesse can never 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 joyes of Lovers -Paradise, feeling the fruition of their felicities; which are such, as -no mortality can be capeable of, no, not so much as in imagination.</p> - -<p>The wise Gentlewoman replied, that she was well contented, in regard -of the severe punishment inflicted on him by God <i>Cupid</i>, for the reproachfull -speeches he had given her; to allow him so poore a kinde of -consolation, as he had requested her to grant him. Whereuppon Fryar -<i>Albert</i> saide: Be ready then Madam to give him welcome to morrow in -the evening, 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 use of his wings, he then would flye in at your window, and -then you could not be able to see him.</p> - -<p>Upon this conclusion, <i>Albert</i> departed, leaving <i>Lisetta</i> in no meane -pride of imagination, that God <i>Cupid</i> 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 <i>Albert</i>. 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 -over with Starres, and spangles of Gold, a Bow and Quiver of Arrowes, -with wings also fastened to his backe behinde him, and all cunningly -covered with his Friars habit, which must be the sole meanes for -his safe passage.</p> - -<p>Having obtained licence of his Superiour, and being accompanyed -with an holy Brother of the Convent, yet ignorant of the businesse by -him intended; he went to the house of a friend of his, which was his usuall -receptacle, whensoever he went about such deeds of darknes. There -did he put on his dissembled habit of God <i>Cupid</i>, with his winges, Bowe, -and Quiver, in formall fashion; and then (clouded over with his Monkes -Cowle) leaves his companion to awaite his returning backe, while he visited -foolish <i>Lisetta</i>, according to her expectation, readily attending for -the Gods arrivall.</p> - -<p><i>Albert</i> 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 majesticke motion of his -body, wings, and bow, as if he had bene God <i>Cupid</i>, indeede converted -into a body much bigger of stature, then Painters commonly do describe -him, her wisedome was so overcome with feare and admiration, that she -fell on her knees before him, expressing all humble reverence unto him. -And he spreading his wings over 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 love and affection towards her. So delicately -was he perfumed with odorifferous favours, and so compleate of person -in his spangled garments, that she could do nothing else, but wonder -at his rare behaviour, reputing her felicity beyond all Womens in the -world, and utterly impossible to bee equalled, such was the pride of her -presuming. For he told her divers tales and fables, of his awefull power -among the other Gods, and stolne pleasures of his upon the earth; yet -gracing her praises above all his other Loves, 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, farre to exceed any mortall comparison.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Albert-Cupid</i>, or <i>Cupid-Albert</i>, which of them you best please -to terme him, closing his spangled winges together againe behinde his -backe, fastening also on his Bow and Quiver of Arrowes, over-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 devout 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.</p> - -<p>On the morrow following, Madam <i>Lisetta</i> immediately after dinner, -being attended by her Chamber-maid, went to see Friar <i>Albert</i>, finding -him in his wonted forme and fashion, and telling him what had hapned -betweene her and God <i>Cupid</i>, with all the other lies and tales which hee -had told her. Truly Madam (answered <i>Albert</i>) what your successe with -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 Elves and Fairies, into the floury fields about <i>Elisium</i>, where -Lovers departed out of this life, walk 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 joy -and solace, that, how long I continued there, or by what meanes I was -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 use thereof to your service. Well Friar <i>Albert</i> (quoth shee) you -may see what an happinesse hath befalne you, by so grosse an opinion of -my perfections, and what a felicity you enjoy, and still are like to do, by -my pardoning your error, and granting the Gods accesse to me in your -shape: which as I envy not, so I wish you heereafter to be wiser, in taking -upon you to judge of beautie. Much other idle folly proceeded from hir, -which still he soothed to her contentment, and (as occasion served) many -meetings they had in the former manner.</p> - -<p>It fortuned within a few dayes after, that Madam <i>Lisetta</i> 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, behaviour, -amorous suters and servants, and generall opinion conceived -of their worth and merit; wherein <i>Lisetta</i> was over-much conceyted of -her selfe, not admitting any other to be her equall. Among other speeches, -favouring of an unseasoned 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 deserve to bee preferred -before any other. As women are ambitious in their owne opinions, so -commonly are they covetous of one anothers secrets, especially in matter -of emulation, whereupon the Gossip thus replyed. Beleeve 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, -priviledges, how great and singular soever they be, without they are knowen -to others, beside such as do particularly enjoy them; they carrie no -more account, then things of ordinary estimation. Whereas on the contrary, -when any Lady or Gentlewoman hath some eminent and peculiar -favour, which few or none other can reach unto, and it is made famous -by generall notion: then do all women else admire and honour her, as the -glory of their kinde, and a miracle of Nature.</p> - -<p>I perceive Gossip said <i>Lisetta</i> whereat you ayme, & such is my love to you, -as you should not lose your longing in this case, were I but constantly secured -of your secrecy, which as hitherto I have 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, never to reveale it to any living body, I will disclose to you almost -a miracle. The vertuous oath being past, with many other solemne -protestations beside, <i>Lisetta</i> then proceeded in this manner.</p> - -<p>I know Gossip, that it is a matter of common & ordinary custome, for -Ladies and Gentlewomen to be graced with favourites, men of fraile & -mortall conditions, whose natures are as subject to inconstancy, as their -very best endeavours dedicated to folly, as I could name no mean number -of our Ladies heere in <i>Venice</i>. But when Soveraigne deities shal feele the -impression of our humane desires, and behold subjects of such prevailing -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 <i>Lisetta</i>, -of whose perfections, great <i>Cupid</i> the awefull commanding God of Love -himselfe, conceived such an extraordinary liking: as he hath abandoned -his seate of supreme Majesty, and appeared to me in the shape of a mortall -man, with lively expression of his amorous passions, and what extremities -of anguish he hath endured, onely for my love. May this be possible? -replyed the Gossip. Can the Gods be toucht with the apprehension -of our fraile passions? True it is Gossip, answered <i>Lisetta</i>, and so certainly -true, that his sacred kisses, sweet embraces, and most pleasing speeches, -with proffer of his continuall devotion towards me, hath given 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.</p> - -<p>The Gossip inwardly smiling at her idle speeches, which (nevertheles) -she avouched with very vehement asseverations; fell instantly sicke of -womens naturall disease, thinking every 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, whom -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 <i>Venice</i> was fully possessed with it.</p> - -<p>Among the rest, the brethren to this foolish woman, heard this admirable -newes concerning their Sister; and they discreetly concealing it to -themselves, 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 over-publikely discovered, purposed to check and -reprove <i>Lisetta</i> for her indiscretion. And being habited according to his -former manner, his Friarly Cowle covering al his former bravery, he left -his companion where he used to stay, and closely walked along unto 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 uncased himselfe, and appeared like God <i>Cupid</i>, with his spangled -wings displayed: they rushed into the Chamber, and he having no other -refuge, opened a large Casement, standing directly over the great gulfe -or River, 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.</p> - -<p>Recovering the further side of the River, he espied a light, & the doore -of an house open, wherein dwelt a poore man, whom he earnestly intreated, -to save 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 moved to compassionate -his distressed estate, laid him in his owne bed, ministring such other comforts -to him, as the time and his poverty did permit; and day drawing on, -he went about his businesse, advising him to take his rest, and it should -not be long till he returned. So, locking the doore, and leaving the counterfet -God in bed, away goes the poore man to his daily labour. The Brethren -to <i>Lisetta</i>, perceiving God <i>Cupid</i> to bee fled and gone, and shee in -melancholly sadnesse sitting by them: they tooke up the Reliques he had -left behind him, I meane the Friars hood and Cowle, which shewing to -their sister, and sharply reproving her unwomanly behaviour: they lefte -her in no meane discomfort, returning home to their owne houses, with -their conquered spoiles of the forlorne Friar.</p> - -<p>During the time of these occurrences, broad day speeding on, & the -poore man returning homeward by the <i>Rialto</i>, to visit his guest so lefte in -bed: he beheld divers crouds of people, and a generall rumor noysed among -them, that God <i>Cupid</i> had beene that night with Madame <i>Lisetta</i>, -where being over-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 give him fifty ducates, if hee would -not betray him to <i>Lisettaes</i> brethren.</p> - -<p>Upon the acceptation of this offer, the money being sent for, and paied -downe; there wanted nothing now, but some apt and convenient -meanes, whereby <i>Albert</i> might safely be conveyed 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 advise you. We observe this day as a merry Festivall, & -it is lawfull for any one, to disguise a man in the skin of a Beare, or in the -shape of a savage man, or any other forme of better device. Which being -so done, he is brought upon S. <i>Marks</i> market place, where being hunted -a while with dogs, upon 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 unknown; -for it is without all question to the contrary, that the Gentlewomans brethren, -knowing your concealment in some one place or other, will set such -spies and watches for you throughout the City, as you must needs be taken -by them.</p> - -<p>Now, although it seemed a most severe imposition, for <i>Albert</i> to passe -in any of these disguises: yet his exceeding feare of <i>Lisettaes</i> brethren and -friends, made him gladly yeelde, and to undergo what shape the poore -man pleased, which thus he ordered. Annointing his naked body with -Hony, he then covered it over with downy small Feathers, and fastning -a chaine about his necke, and a strange ugly vizard on his face; hee gave -him a great staffe in the one hand, and two huge Mastive dogs chained -together in the other, which he had borrowed in the Butchery. Afterward, -he sent a man to the <i>Rialto</i>, who there proclaimed by the sound of -Trumpet: That all such as desired to see God <i>Cupid</i>, which the last night -had descended downe from the skies, and fell (by ill hap) into the <i>Venetian</i> -gulfe, let them repaire to the publike Market place of S. <i>Marke</i>, and -there he would appeare in his owne likenesse.</p> - -<p>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, -every 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, whereto he chained his savage -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 thereby -unspeakable anguish. When the poore man saw, that there needed -no more concourse of people; pretending, as if he purposed to let loose -his Salvage man; he tooke the maske or vizard from <i>Alberts</i> face, and -then he spake aloud in this manner.</p> - -<p>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 Love called <i>Cupid</i>, whom Poets feigned long since to -be a little boy, but now growne to manly stature. You see in what manner -he hath left his high dwelling, onely for the comfort of our <i>Venetian</i> -beauties: but belike, the night-fogs over-flagging his wings, he fell into -our gulfe, and comes now to present his service to you. No sooner had -he taken off his vizard, but every one knew him to be Friar <i>Albert</i>; 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.</p> - -<p>So long continued the offended people in their fury, that newes thereof -was carried to the Convent, 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 molestation and trouble -of the people; where imprisoning him in their house, severitie 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 evill actions dayly -committed, yet escaping uncredited: there will come a time at length, -for just discovering of all, that the good may shine in their true luster of -glory, and the bad sinke in their owne deserved shame.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Three_yong_Gentlemen_affecting_three_Sisters_fledde_with_them_into_Candie" id="Three_yong_Gentlemen_affecting_three_Sisters_fledde_with_them_into_Candie"><i>Three yong Gentlemen affecting three Sisters, fledde with them into</i> Candie. -<i>The eldest of them (through jealousie) becommeth the death of her Lover: -The second, by consenting to the Duke of</i> Candies <i>request, is the meanes of -saving 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 prevaile with their keepers, -escaping from thence to</i> Rhodes, <i>where they died in great poverty.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The third Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Heerein is declared, how dangerous the occasion is, ensuing by anger and despight, -in such as entirely love, especially, being injuried and offended by them -that they love.</i></h4> - - -<p>When the King perceived, that Madame <i>Pampinea</i> had ended her -discourse; he sat sadly a prety while, without uttering one word, -but afterward spake thus. Little goodnesse appeared in the beginning of -this Novell, because it ministred occasion of mirth; yet the ending proved -better, and I could wish, that worse inflictions had falne on the venerious -Friar. Then turning towards Madam <i>Lauretta</i>, he said; Lady, do -you tell us a better tale, if possible it may be. She smiling, thus answered -the King: Sir, you are over-cruelly bent against poore Lovers, in desiring, -that their amourous processions should have harsh and sinister -concludings. Neverthelesse, in obedience to your severe command, among -three persons amourously perplexed, I will relate an unhappy ending; -whereas all may be saide to speede as unfortunately, being equally -alike, in enjoying the issue of their desires, and thus I purpose for to proceede.</p> - -<p>Every vice (choise Ladies) as very well you know, redoundeth to the -great disgrace and prejudice, 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 us with full carrere, and draweth us into -unavoidable perils and dangers; in mine opinion, seemeth to be that of -choller or anger, which is nothing else, but a sudden and inconsiderate -moving, provoked by some received injury, which having excluded all -respect of reason, and dimde (with darke vapours) the bright discerning -sight of the understanding, enflameth the minde with most violent furie. -And albeit this inconvenience happeneth most to men, and more to -some few, then others; yet notwithstanding, it hath been noted, that women -have 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 have the lesser consideration, and therefore not to -be wondred at. For if we will advisedly observe, we shall plainely perceive, -that fire (even 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 us 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 themselves pleasing -and full of content, to those men with whom we are to live; 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 Novel, -how the loves of three young Gentlemen, and of as many Gentlewomen, -came to fatall and unfortunate successe, by the tempestuous anger of -one among them, according as I have formerly related unto you.</p> - -<p><i>Marseilles</i> (as you are not now to learne) is in <i>Provence</i>, 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 <i>Narnaldo -Civada</i>, 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 <i>Narnaldo</i>, who was then abroade in <i>Spaine</i> -with his Merchandises. The eldest of these Sisters was named <i>Ninetta</i>, -the second <i>Magdalena</i>, and the third <i>Bertella</i>. A Gentleman (albeit but -poore in fortunes) and called <i>Restagnone</i>, was so extraordinarily enamoured -of <i>Ninetta</i>, as no man possibly could be more, and shee likewise as -earnest in affection towards him; yet both carrying their loves proceeding -with such secresie, as long time they enjoyed their hearts sweete -contentment, yet undiscovered by any eye.</p> - -<p>It came to passe, that two other young Gallants, the one named <i>Folco</i>, -and the other <i>Hugnetto</i>, (who had attained to incredible wealth, by the -decease of their Father) were also as farre in love, the one with <i>Magdalena</i>, -and the other with <i>Bertella</i>. When <i>Restagnone</i> had intelligence thereof, -by the meanes of his faire friend <i>Ninetta</i>; he purposed to releeve his poverty, -by friendly furthering both their love, and his owne: and growing -into familiarity with them, one while he would walke abroade with <i>Folco</i>, -and then againe with <i>Hugnetto</i>, 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 invited the two -Gentlemen home to his House, hee fell into this like conference with -them.</p> - -<p>Kind friends (quoth he) the honest familiarity which hath past betweene -us, may render you some certaine assurance, of the constant love -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 travelled, -and now may soone be delivered of, if it may passe with your liking and -approbation. Let me then tell you, that except your speeches savour of -untruth, and your actions carry a double understanding, in common behaviour -both by night and day, you appeare to pine and consume away, -in the cordiall love you beare to two of the Sisters, as I suffer the same afflictions -for the third, with reciprocall requitall of their dearest affection -to us. Now, to qualifie the heate of our tormenting flames, if you will -condescend to such a course as I shall advise you, the remedy will yeeld -them equall ease to ours, and we may safely enjoy the benefit of contentment. -As wealth aboundeth with you both, so doth want most extremely -tyrannize over 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 us, where to live at hearts ease upon your -possessions; I durst engage my credite, that all the Sisters, (not meanly -stored with their Fathers treasure) shall beare us company to what place -soever we please. There each man freely enjoying his owne dearest love, -we may live like three brethren, without any hinderance to our mutuall -contentment; it remaineth now in you Gentlemen, to accept this comfortable -offer, or to refuse it.</p> - -<p>The two Brothers, whose passions exceeded their best meanes for support, -perceiving some hope how to enjoy their loves; 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 whatsoever, -they would joyne with him in this determination, and he should partake -with them in their wealthiest fortunes. After <i>Restagnone</i> had heard -their answer, within some few dayes following, he went to conferre with -<i>Ninetta</i>, which was no easie matter for him to compasse. Neverthelesse, -opportunity proved so favourable to him, that meeting with her at a private -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 have 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 advise, 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 every thing ready, to depart from hence so soone, as with best -convenient meanes we may be enabled.</p> - -<p><i>Restagnone</i> being returned to <i>Folco</i> and <i>Hugnetto</i>, who thought every -houre a yeere, to heare what would succeed upon 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. Having 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, under colour of venting Merchandises abroade; they bought a nimble -Pinnace, fortified with good strength and preparation, and waited -but for a convenient wind. On the other side, <i>Ninetta</i>, who was sufficiently -acquainted with the forwardnesse of her Sisters desires and her -owne; had so substantially prevailed 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 Jewels, wherewith escaping secretly -out of the House; they came to the place where their Lovers 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 arrived at <i>Geneway</i>.</p> - -<p>There being out of peril or pursuite, they all knit the knot of holy wedlocke, -and then freely enjoyed 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 -<i>Candie</i>, not meeting with any impeachment by the way. Determining -there to spend their dayes, first they provided themselves 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, inviting their Neighbours, and they them againe in loving -manner; so that no Lovers could wish to live in more ample contentment.</p> - -<p>Passing on their time in this height of felicity, and not crossed by any -sinister accidents, it came to passe (as often wee may observe in the like -occasions, that although delights doe most especially please us, yet they -breed surfet, when they swell too over-great in abundance) that <i>Restagnone</i>, -who most deerely affected his faire <i>Ninetta</i>, 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 invited -to a Banket, hee saw there a beautifull Gentle-woman of that Countrey, -whose perfections pleasing him beyond all comparison: hee laboured (by -painfull pursuite) to win his purpose; and meeting with her in divers private -places, grew prodigall in his expences upon her. This could not be -so closely carried, but beeing seene and observed by <i>Ninetta</i>, she became -possessed with such extreame jelousie, that hee could not doe any thing -whatsoever, but immediately he had knowledge of it: which fire, growing -to a flame in her, her patience became extreamely provoked, urging -rough and rude speeches from her to him, and daily tormenting him beyond -power of sufferance.</p> - -<p>As the enjoying of anything in too much plenty, makes it appeare -irkesome and loathing to us, and the deniall of our desires, do more and -more whet on the appetite: even so did the angry spleene of <i>Ninetta</i> proceede -on in violence, against this newe commenced love of <i>Restagnone</i>. -For in succession of time, whether hee enjoyed the embracements of -his new Mistresse, or no: yet <i>Ninetta</i> (by sinister reports, but much more -through her owne jealous imaginations) held it for infallible, and to be -most certaine. Heereupon, she fell into an extreame melancholly, which -melancholly begat implacable fury, and (consequently) such contemptible -disdaine: as converted her former kindly love to <i>Restagnone</i>, into -most cruell and bloudie hatred; yea, and so strangely was reason or respect -confounded in her, as no revenge else but speedy death, might -satisfie the wrongs shee imagined to receive by <i>Restagnone</i> and his Minion.</p> - -<p>Upon enquiry, by what meanes shee might best compasse her bloody -intention, she grew acquainted with a <i>Græcian</i> woman, and wonderfully -expert in the compounding of poysons, whom shee so perswaded, by -gifts and bounteous promises, that at the length shee prevailed with her. -A deadly water was distilled by her, which (without any other counsell -to the contrary) on a day when <i>Restagnone</i> had his blood some-what -over-heated, and little dreamed on any such Treason conspired against -him by his Wife, she caused him to drinke a great draught thereof, under -pretence, that it was a most soveraigne and cordiall water: but such -was the powerfull operation thereof, that the very next morning, <i>Restagnone</i> -was found to be dead in his bed. When his death was understood -by <i>Folco, Hugnetto</i> and their Wives, 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.</p> - -<p>But as Fortune is infinite in her fagaries, never acting disaster so closely, -but as cunningly discovereth it againe: so it came to passe, that within -a few dayes following, the <i>Græcian</i> woman, that had delivered the poyson -to <i>Ninetta</i>, for such another deede of damnation, was apprehended -even in the action. And being put upon the tortures, among many other -horrid villanies by her committed, she confessed the empoysoning of <i>Restagnone</i>, -and every particle thereto appertaining. Whereupon, the Duke -of <i>Candie</i>, without any noyse or publication, setting a strong guard (in -the night time) about the house of <i>Folco</i>, where <i>Ninetta</i> then was lodged; -there sodainly they seized on her, & upon examination, in maintainance -of her desperate revenge; voluntarily confessed the fact, and what else -concerned the occasion of his death, by the wrongs which hee had offered -her.</p> - -<p><i>Folco</i> and <i>Hugnetto</i> understanding secretly, both from the Duke, & other -intimate friends, what was the reason of <i>Ninettaes</i> apprehension, -which was not a little displeasing to them, laboured by all their best pains -and endeavour, to worke such meanes with the Duke, that her life might -not perish by fire, although she had most justly deserved it; but all their -attempts prooved to no effect, because the Duke had concluded to execute -justice.</p> - -<p>Heere you are to observe, that <i>Magdalena</i> (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 love and kindnesse, whereto -by no meanes she would listen or give 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 private told her, that if she was -so desirous of <i>Ninettaes</i> life: it lay in her power to obtaine it, by granting -him the fruition of her love. She apparantly perceiving, that <i>Ninetta</i> was -not likely to live, 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 having an excellent -ingenious wit, quicke, and apprehensive in perillous occasions, shee -intended now to make a trial of over-reaching the lascivious Duke in his -wanton purpose, and yet to be assured of her Sisters life, without any blemish -to her reputation.</p> - -<p>Soliciting him still as she was wont to doe, this promise passed from -her to him, that when <i>Ninetta</i> was delivered out of prison, and in safety -at home in her house: hee should resort thither in some queint disguise, -and enjoy his long expected desire; but untill then she would not yeeld. -So violent was the Duke in the prosecution of his purpose, that under colour -of altering the manner of <i>Ninettaes</i> death, not suffering her to bee -consumed by fire, but to be drowned, according to a custome observed -there long time, and at the importunity of her Sister <i>Magdalena</i>, in the -still silence of the night, <i>Ninetta</i> was conveyed into a sacke, and sent in -that manner to the House of <i>Folco</i>, the Duke following soone after, to -challenge her promise.</p> - -<p><i>Magdalena</i>, having acquainted her Husband with her vertuous intention, -for preserving her Sisters life, and disappointing the Duke in his -wicked desire; was as contrary to her true meaning in this case, as <i>Ninetta</i> -had formerly beene adverse to <i>Restagnone</i>, onely being over-ruled -likewise by jealousie, and perswaded in his rash opinion, that the Duke -had already dishonoured <i>Magdalena</i>, otherwise, he would not have delivered -<i>Ninetta</i> out of prison. Mad fury gave further fire to this unmanly -perswasion, and nothing will now quench this violent flame, but the life -of poore <i>Magdalena</i>, suddenly sacrificed in the rescue of her Sisters, such -a divell is anger, when the understandings bright eye is thereby abused. -No credit might be given to her womanly protestations, nor any thing -seeme to alter his bloody purpose; but, having slaine <i>Magdalena</i> with his -Poniard, (notwithstanding her teares and humble entreaties) hee ran -in haste to <i>Ninettaes</i> Chamber, shee not dreaming on any such desperate -accident, and to her he used these dissembling speeches.</p> - -<p>Sister (quoth he) my wife hath advised, that I should speedily convey -you hence, as fearing the renewing of the Dukes fury, and your falling againe -into the hands of Justice: I have a Barke readily prepared for you, -and your life being secured, it is all that she and I doe most desire. <i>Ninetta</i> -being fearefull, and no way distrusting what he had saide; in thankfull allowance -of her Sisters care, and curteous tender of his so ready service; -departed thence presently with him, not taking any farewell of her other -Sister and her Husband. To the Sea-shore they came, very weakely provided -of monies to defray their charges, and getting aboard the Barke, -directed their course themselves knew not whether.</p> - -<p>The amourous Duke in his disguise, having long daunced attendance -at <i>Folcoes</i> doore, and no admittance of his entrance; angerly returned -backe to his Court, protesting severe revenge on <i>Magdalena</i>, if she gave -him not the better satisfaction, to cleare her from thus basely abusing -him. On the morrow morning, when <i>Magdalena</i> was found murthered -in her Chamber, and tidings thereof carried to the Duke; present search -was made for the bloody offendor, but <i>Folco</i> being fled and gone with -<i>Ninetta</i>; some there were, who bearing deadly hatred to <i>Hugnetto</i>, incensed -the Duke against him and his wife, as supposing them to be guilty of -<i>Magdalenaes</i> death. He being thereto very easily perswaded, in regard -of his immoderate love to the slaine Gentlewoman; went himselfe in person -(attended on by his Guard) to <i>Hugnettoes</i> House, where both he and -his wife were seized as prisoners.</p> - -<p>These newes were very strange to them, and their imprisonment as -unwelcome; and although they were truly innocent, either in knowledge -of the horrid fact, or the departure of <i>Folco</i> with <i>Ninetta</i>: yet being unable -to endure the tortures extremity, they made themselves culpable by -confession, and that they had hand with <i>Folco</i> in the murder of <i>Magdalena</i>. -Upon 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 serve when any urgent extremitie should happen -to them; they corrupted their keepers, and before any intelligence could -be had of their flight, they escaped by Sea to <i>Rhodes</i>, where they lived afterward -in great distresse and misery. The just vengeance of Heaven followed -after <i>Folco</i> and <i>Ninetta</i>, 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 driven backe on the Coast of <i>Candie</i> againe, -where being apprehended, and brought to the City before the -Duke, they confessed their severall notorious offences, and ended their -loathed lives in one fire together.</p> - -<p>Thus the idle and loose love of <i>Restagnone</i>, with the franticke rage and -jealousie of <i>Ninetta</i> and <i>Folco</i>, overturned all their long continued happinesse, -and threw a disastrous ending on them all.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Gerbino_contrary_to_the_former_plighted_faith_of_his_Grand-father_King_Gulielmo" id="Gerbino_contrary_to_the_former_plighted_faith_of_his_Grand-father_King_Gulielmo">Gerbino, <i>contrary to the former plighted faith of his Grand-father, King</i> Gulielmo, -<i>fought with a Ship at Sea, belonging to the King of</i> Thunis, <i>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.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The fourth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>In commendation of Justice betweene Princes; and declaring withal, that neither -feare, dangers, nor death it selfe; can any way daunt a true and loyall -Lover.</i></h4> - - -<p>Madam <i>Lauretta</i> having concluded her Novel, and the company complaining -on Lovers misfortunes, some blaming the angry and jealous -fury of <i>Ninetta</i>, and every one delivering their severall opinions; -the King, as awaking out of a passionate perplexity, exalted his lookes, -giving a signe to Madam <i>Elisa</i>, that shee should follow next in order, -whereto she obeying, began in this manner. I have heard (Gracious Ladies, -quoth she) of many people, who are verily perswaded, that Loves -arrowes, never wound any body, but onely by the eyes lookes and gazes, -mocking and scorning such as maintaine that men may fall in love by hearing -onely. Wherein (beleeve me) they are greatly deceived, as will -appeare by a Novell which I must now relate unto you, and wherein you -shall plainely perceive, that not onely fame or report is as prevailing as -sight; but also hath conducted divers, to a wretched and miserable ending -of their lives.</p> - -<p><i>Gulielmo</i> the second, King of <i>Sicilie</i>, according as the <i>Sicilian</i> Chronicles -record, had two children, the one a sonne, named <i>Don Rogero</i>, and -the other a daughter, called Madam <i>Constance</i>. The saide <i>Rogero</i> died before -his Father, leaving a sonne behind him, named <i>Gerbino</i>, who, with -much care and cost, was brought up by his Grand-father, proving 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 <i>Sicilie</i> onely, but being published very prodigally, in many parts -of the world beside, flourished with no meane commendations throughout -all <i>Barbarie</i>, which in those dayes was tributary to the King of <i>Sicilie</i>. -Among other persons, deserving most to be respected, the renowned -vertues, and affability of this gallant Prince <i>Gerbino</i>, was understood by -the beautious Daughter to the King of <i>Thunis</i>, 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 ever Nature framed in her very choycest -pride of art.</p> - -<p>Of famous, vertuous, and worthy men, it was continually her cheefest -delight to heare, and the admired actions of valiant <i>Gerbino</i>, reported -to her by many singular discoursers, such as could best describe him, with -language answerable to his due deservings, won such honourable entertainment -in her understanding soule, that they were most affectionately -pleasing to her, and in capitulating (over and over 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 advancement.</p> - -<p>On the other side, the fame of her incomparable beauty, with addition -of her other infinite singularities beside; as the World had given eare -to in numberlesse places, so <i>Sicilie</i> 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 <i>Gerbino</i>; -but was embraced with such a reall apprehension, and the entire -probation of a true understanding: that he was no lesse enflamed with -noble affection towards her, then she expressed the like in vertuous opinion -of him. Wherefore, awaiting such convenient opportunity, when -he might entreate license of his Grandfather, for his owne going to <i>Thunis</i>, -under colour of some honourable occasion, for the earnest desire hee -had to see her: he gave charge to some of his especiall friends (whose affaires -required their presence in those parts) to let the Princesse understand, -in such secret manner as best they could devise, what noble affection -he bare unto her, devoting himselfe onely to her service.</p> - -<p>One of his chosen friends thus put in trust, being a Jeweller, a man of -singular discretion, and often resorting to Ladies for sight of his Jewelles, -winning like admittance to the Princesse: related at large unto her, the -honourable affection of <i>Gerbino</i>, with full tender of his person to her service, -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 selfsame -affection towards him; as a testimony thereof, one of the very choisest -Jewels which she bought of him, shee sent by him to the Prince <i>Gerbino</i>, -it being received by him with such joy and contentment, as nothing -in the world could be more pleasing to him. So that afterward, by the trusty -carriage of this Jeweller, many Letters and Love-tokens passed betweene -them, each being as highly pleased with this poore, yet happy -kinde of entercourse, as if they had seene & conversed with one another.</p> - -<p>Matters proceeding on in this manner, and continuing longer then -their love-sicke passions easily could permit, yet neither being able to find -out any other meanes of helpe; it fortuned, that the King of <i>Thunis</i> promised -his daughter in marriage to the King of <i>Granada</i>, whereat she grew -exceeding sorrowfull, perceyving, that not onely she should be sent further -off, by a large distance of way from her friend, but also bee deprived -utterly, of all hope ever to enjoy him. And if she could have devised any -meanes, either by secret flight from her Father, or any way els to further -her intention, she would have adventured it for the Princes sake. <i>Gerbino</i> -in like manner hearing of this purposed mariage, lived in a hell 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 private stealing -her away from her Fathers Court before: with these and infinite other -thoughts, was he incessantly afflicted, both day and night.</p> - -<p>By some unhappy accident or other, the King of <i>Thunis</i> heard of this -their secret love, as also of <i>Gerbinoes</i> 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 convey his daughter thence to her marriage, and fearing to be prevented -by <i>Gerbino</i>: he sent to the King of <i>Sicily</i>, to let him understand his -determination, craving safe conduct from him, without impeachment of -<i>Gerbino</i>, or any one else, untill such time as his intent was accomplished. -King <i>Gulielmo</i> being aged, and never acquainted with the affectionat proceedings -of <i>Gerbino</i>, nor any doubtfull reason to urge this securitie from -him, in a case convenient to be granted: yeelded the sooner thereto right -willingly, and as a signale of his honourable meaning, he sent him his royall -Glove, with a full confirmation for his safe conduct.</p> - -<p>No sooner were these Princely assurances received, but a goodly ship -was prepared in the Port of <i>Carthagena</i>, well furnished with all thinges -thereto belonging, for the sending his daughter to the King of <i>Granada</i>, -waiting for nothing else but best favouring windes. The yong Princesse, -who understood and saw all this great preparation; secretly sent a servant -of hers to <i>Palermo</i>, giving him especiall charge, on her behalfe, to salute -the Prince <i>Gerbino</i>, and to tell him withall, that (within few dayes) shee -must be transported to <i>Granada</i>. And now opportunity gave 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 conceyved 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 <i>Thunis</i>.</p> - -<p>The Prince <i>Gerbino</i>, having heard this message from his divine Mistresse, -and knowing also, that the King his Grandfather, had past his safe -conduct to the King of <i>Thunis</i>, for peaceable passage thorough his Seas: -was at his wits end, in this urgent necessitie, what might best bee done. -Notwithstanding, moved by the setled constancie of his plighted Love, -and the speeches delivered to him by the messenger from the Princesse: -to shew himselfe a man endued with courage, he departed thence unto -<i>Messina</i>, where he made readie two speedie gallies, and fitting them with -men of valiant disposition, set away to <i>Sardignia</i>, as making full account, -that the Ship which carried the Princesse, must come along that Coast. -Nor was his expectation therein deceived: for, within few dayes after, -the Ship (not over-swiftly winded) came sailing neere to the place where -they attended for her arrivall; whereof <i>Gerbino</i> had no sooner gotten a -sight, but to animate the resolutes which were in his company, thus he -spake.</p> - -<p>Gentlemen, if you be those men of valour, as heeretofore you have -beene reputed, I am perswaded, that there are some among you, who -either formerly have, or now instantly do feele, the all-commanding power -of Love, without which (as I thinke) there is not any mortall man, -that can have any goodnesse or vertue dwelling in him. Wherefore, if -ever you have bene amorously affected, or presently have any apprehension -thereof, you shall the more easily judge of what I now aime at. True -it is, that I do love, and love hath guided me to be comforted, and manfully -assisted by you, because in yonder Ship, which you see commeth on -so gently under saile (even as if she offered her selfe to be our prize) not -onely is the Jewell which I most esteeme, but also mighty and unvalewable -treasure, to be wonne without any difficult labour, or hazard of a dangerous -fight, you being men of such undauntable courage. In the honour -of which victory, I covet not any part or parcell, but onely a Ladie, for -whose sake I have undertaken these Armes, and freely give you all the rest -contained in the shippe. Let us set on them, Gentlemen, and my dearest -friends; couragiously let us assaile the ship, you see how the wind favours -us, and (questionlesse) in so good an action, Fortune will not faile us.</p> - -<p><i>Gerbino</i> needed not to have spoken so much, in perswading them to -seize so rich a booty; because the men of <i>Messina</i> were naturally addicted -to spoile and rapine: and before the Prince began his Oration, they had -concluded to make the ship their purchase. Wherefore, giving 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 upon the ship. But before the Gallies could -come neere her, they that had the charge and managing of her, perceyving -with what speede they made towards them, and no likely meanes of -escaping from them, resolvedly they stood uppon their best defence, for -now it was no time to be slothfull.</p> - -<p>The Prince being come neere to the Ship, commanded that the Patrones -should come to him, except they would adventure the fight. -When the Sarazines were thereof advertised, and understood 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 <i>Sicily</i>, for their safe passage thorow his Sea, by no -meanes to be molested or assailed. In testimony whereof, they shewed -his Glove, avouching moreover, that neyther by force (or otherwise) -they would yeelde, or deliver him any thing which they had aboorde -their Ship.</p> - -<p><i>Gerbino</i> 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 Glove. Wee have (quoth he) no Faulcon heere -now, to be humbled at the sight of your Glove: and therefore, if you will -not deliver the Lady, prepare your selves for fight, for we must have 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, <i>Gerbino</i> perceyving, that small benefite would redound to -him, if he did not undertake some other kinde of course: he tooke a small -Pinnace, which purposely he brought with him from <i>Sardignia</i>, and setting -it on a flaming fire, conveyd it (by the Gallies help) close to the ship. -The Sarazines much amazed thereat, and evidently perceiving, that eyther -they must yeeld or dy; brought their Kings daughter upon the prow -of the ship, most greevously weeping and wringing her hands. Then calling -<i>Gerbino</i>, 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 give her to thee, according to our bounden duty, and as thy perjury -hath justly deserved.</p> - -<p>This sight was not a little greevous to the Prince <i>Gerbino</i>, who madded -now with this their monstrous cruelty, and not caring what became -of his owne life, having lost her for whom hee onely desired to live: not -dreading their Darts, Arrowes, slinged stones, or what violence els they -could use against him; he leapt aboord their ship, in despight of all that -durst resist him, behaving himself there like a hunger-starved 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 life 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 save, and -suffering the Sea to swallow the rest, <i>Gerbino</i> returned unto his Gallies againe, -nothing proud of this so ill-gotten victory.</p> - -<p>Afterward, having recovered the Princesses dead body out of the Sea, -and enbalmed it with sighes and teares: hee returned backe into <i>Sicilie</i>, -where he caused it to be most honourably buried, in a little Island, named -<i>Ustica</i>, face to face confronting <i>Trapanum</i>. The King of <i>Thunis</i> hearing -these disastrous Newes, sent his Ambassadors (habited in sad mourning) -to the aged King of <i>Sicily</i>, 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 injury, seeing no way whereby to deny -him justice, it being urged so instantly by the Ambassadours: caused -<i>Gerbino</i> to be apprehended, and hee himselfe (in regard that none of his -Lords and Barons would therein assist him, but laboured to divert him -by their earnest importunity) pronounced the sentence of death on the -Prince, and commanded to have him beheaded in his presence; affecting -rather, to dye without an heire, then to be thought a King void of justice. -So these two unfortunate Lovers, never enjoying the very least benefite of -their long wished desires: ended both their lives in violent manner.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="The_three_Brethren_to_Isabella_slew_a_Gentleman_that_secretly_loved_her_His" id="The_three_Brethren_to_Isabella_slew_a_Gentleman_that_secretly_loved_her_His"><i>The three Brethren to</i> Isabella, <i>slew a Gentleman that secretly loved 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 usually -set in; she watered it (a long while) with her teares. Whereof her Brethren -having intelligence; soone after she dyed, with meere conceite of sorrow.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The fift Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is plainly proved, that Love cannot be rooted uppe, by any humane power -or providence; especially in such a soule, where it hath bene really apprehended.</i></h4> - - -<p>The Novell of Madame <i>Eliza</i> being finished, and some-what commended -by the King, in regard of the Tragicall conclusion; <i>Philomena</i> -was enjoyned to proceede next with her discourse. She beeing overcome -with much compassion, for the hard Fortunes of Noble <i>Gerbino</i>, -and his beautifull Princesse, after an extreame 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 <i>Eliza</i> gave you relation: -yet (peradventure) it may proove to be no lesse pitifull. And now I remember -my selfe, <i>Messina</i> so lately spoken of, is the place where this accident -also happened.</p> - -<p>In <i>Messina</i> there dwelt three yong men, Brethren, and Merchants by -their common profession, who becoming very rich by the death of theyr -Father, lived in very good fame and repute. Their Father was of <i>San -Gemignano</i>, and they had a Sister named <i>Isabella</i>, young, beautifull, and -well conditioned; who, upon some occasion, as yet remained unmaried. -A proper youth, being a Gentleman borne in <i>Pisa</i>, and named <i>Lorenzo</i>, -as a trusty factor or servant, had the managing of the Brethrens businesse -and affaires. This <i>Lorenzo</i> being of comely personage, affable, and excellent -in his behaviour, grew so gracious in the eyes of <i>Isabella</i>, that shee -affoorded him many very respective lookes, yea, kindnesses of no common -quality. Which <i>Lorenzo</i> taking notice of, and observing by degrees -from time to time, gave over all other beauties in the Citie, which might -allure any affection from him, and only fixed his heart on her, so that their -love grew to a mutuall embracing, both equally respecting one another, -and entertaining kindnesses, as occasion gave leave.</p> - -<p>Long time continued this amorous league of love, yet not so cunningly -concealed, but at the length, the secret meeting of <i>Lorenzo</i> and <i>Isabella</i>, -to ease their poore soules of Loves oppressions, was discovered by the -eldest of the Brethren, unknowne 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 urgent 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 <i>Lorenzo</i>.</p> - -<p>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 evill acte being (as yet) -committed. And seeming, as if they knew not of their love, had a wary -eye still upon her secret walkes, awaiting for some convenient time, when -without their owne prejudice, or <i>Isabellaes</i> knowledge, they might safely -breake off this their stolne love, which was altogither against their liking. -So, shewing no worse countenance to <i>Lorenzo</i>, then formerly they had -done, but imploying and conversing with him in kinde manner; it fortuned, -that riding (all three) to recreate themselves out of the Cittie, they -tooke <i>Lorenzo</i> in their company, and when they were come to a solitarie -place, such as best suited with their vile purpose: they ran sodainly upon -<i>Lorenzo</i>, slew him, & afterward enterred his body, where hardly it could -be discovered by any one. Then they returned backe to <i>Messina</i>, & gave -it forth (as a credible report) that they had sent him abroad about their -affaires, as formerly they were wont to do: which every one verily beleeved, -because they knew no reason why they should conceite any otherwise.</p> - -<p><i>Isabella</i>, living in expectation of his returne, and perceiving his stay -to her was so offensively 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 <i>Lorenzo</i>? -What urgent affaires have you with him, that makes you so impatient -upon 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, <i>Isabella</i> fell into abundance of teares, where-among -she mingled many sighes and groanes, such as were able to overthrow 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.</p> - -<p>In the silence of darke night, as she lay afflicted in her bed, oftentimes -would she call for <i>Lorenzo</i>, entreating his speedy returning to her: And -then againe, as if he had bene present with her, shee checkt and reproved -him for his so long absence. One night amongst the rest, she being growen -almost hopelesse, of ever seeing him againe, having a long while -wept and greevously lamented; her senses and faculties utterly spent and -tired, that she could not utter any more complaints, she fell into a trance -or sleepe; and dreamed, that the ghost of <i>Lorenzo</i> appeared unto her, in -torne and unbefitting garments, his lookes pale, meager, and staring: and -(as she thought) thus spake to her. My deare love <i>Isabella</i>, thou doest nothing -but torment thy selfe, with calling on me, accusing me for overlong -tarrying from thee: I am come therefore to let thee know, that thou canst -not enjoy 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.</p> - -<p>The yong Damosell awaking, and giving 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. Having -obtained favour of her brethren, to ride a dayes journey 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 love: they rode directly -to the designed place, which being covered with some store of dried -leaves, and more deeply sunke then any other part of the ground thereabout, -they digged not farre, but they found the body of murthered <i>Lorenzo</i>, -as yet very little corrupted or impaired, and then perceived the -truth of her vision.</p> - -<p>Wisedome and government so much prevailed 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 -have 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 have all, yet she would be possessed of a part, & having -brought a keene razor with her, by helpe of the Nurse, shee divided -the head from the body, and wrapped it up in a Napkin, which the nurse -conveyed into her lap, and then laide the body in the ground again. Thus -being undiscovered by any, they departed thence, and arrived at home in -convenient time, where being alone by themselves in the Chamber: she -washed the head over and over with her teares, and bestowed infinite kisses -thereon.</p> - -<p>Not long after, the Nurse having brought her a large earthen potte, -such as wee use to set Basile, Marjerom, Flowers, or other sweet hearbes -in, and shrouding the head in a silken Scarfe, put it into the pot, covering -it with earth, and planting divers rootes of excellent Basile therein, which -she never watered, but either with her teares, Rose water, or water distilled -from the Flowers of Oranges. This pot she used 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, even as if they -had beene uttered to her <i>Lorenzo</i>, and day by day this was her continuall -exercise, to the no meane admiration of her bretheren, and many other -friends that beheld her.</p> - -<p>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 savour. -The neighbours noting this behaviour in her, observing 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 understand the reason of her so violent oppressions; but could -not by any meanes prevaile with her, or win any discovery by her Nurse, -so faithfull was she in secrecie to her. Her brethren also waxed wearie of -this carriage in her; and having very often reproved 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 have it restored againe, avouching that shee could not -live without it.</p> - -<p>Perceiving that she could not have the pot againe, she fell into an extreame -sicknesse, occasioned onely by her ceaselesse weeping: and never -urged she to have any thing, but the restoring of her Basile pot. Her brethren -grew greatly amazed thereat, because shee never called for ought -else beside; and thereupon were very desirous to ransacke the pot to the -very bottome. Having 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 <i>Lorenzoes</i> -head, whereat they became confounded with amazement.</p> - -<p>Fearing least their offence might come to open publication, they buried -it very secretly; and, before any could take notice thereof, they departed -from <i>Messina</i>, and went to dwell in <i>Naples. Isabella</i> crying & calling -still for her pot of Basile, being unable to give over mourning, dyed -within a few dayes after. Thus have you heard the hard fate of poore <i>Lorenzo</i> -and his <i>Isabella</i>. Within no long while after, when this accident -came to be publikely knowne, an excellent ditty was composed thereof, -beginning thus:</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">Cruell and unkinde was the Christian,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That robd me of my Basiles blisse, &c.<br /></span> -</i></div></div> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="A_beautifull_yong_Virgin_named_Andreana_became_enamored_of_a_yong_Gentleman" id="A_beautifull_yong_Virgin_named_Andreana_became_enamored_of_a_yong_Gentleman"><i>A beautifull yong Virgin, named</i> Andreana, <i>became enamored of a yong Gentleman, -called</i> Gabriello. <i>In conference together, she declared a dreame of -hers to him, and he another of his to her; whereupon</i> Gabriello <i>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</i> Gabriello, -<i>to lay him before his owne doore. The Potestate offering violence to -the Virgin, and she resisting him vertuously: it came to the understanding -of her Father, who approved the innocence of his daughter, and compassed -her deliverance. But she afterward, being weary of all worldly felicities, entred -into Religion, and became a Nun.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The sixth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Describing the admirable accidents of Fortune; and the mighty prevailing power -of Love.</i></h4> - - -<p>The Novell which Madam <i>Philomena</i> had so graciously related, was -highly pleasing unto the other Ladies; because they had oftentimes -heard the Song, without knowing who made it, or uppon what occasion -it was composed. But when the King saw that the Tale was ended: hee -commanded <i>Pamphilus</i>, that hee should follow in his due course: whereupon -he spake thus.</p> - -<p>The dreame already recounted in the last Novell, doth minister matter -to me, to make report of another Tale, wherein mention is made of -two severall dreames; which divined 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.</p> - -<p>Worthy Ladies, I am sure it is not unknowne to you, that it is, & hath -bene a generall passion, to all men and women living, to see divers and -sundry things while they are sleeping. And although (to the sleeper) they -seeme most certaine, so that when he awaketh, hee judgeth the trueth of -some, the likelyhood of others, and some beyond all possibility of truth: -yet notwithstanding, many dreames have bene observed to happen, and -very strangely have come to passe. And this hath bene a grounded reason -for some men, to give as great credit to such things as they see sleeping, -as they do to others usually waking. So that, according unto their -dreames, and as they make construction of them, that are sadly distasted, -or merrily pleased, even as (by them) they either feare or hope. On the -contrary, there are some, who will not credit any dreame whatsoever, untill -they be falne into the very same danger which formerly they saw, and -most evidently in their sleepe.</p> - -<p>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 prove not all to be true, we can best testifie to our selves. And that -they are not alwayes lyars, hath already sufficiently bene manifested, by -the discourse of Madame <i>Philomena</i>, and as you shall perceive 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 favourable to us, and our visions -flatter us with prosperous successe: yet let us give no credence unto -the best, nor addicte our minds to them of contrary Nature. And now we -will proceed to our Novell.</p> - -<p>In the Citie of <i>Brescia</i>, there lived sometime a Gentleman, named <i>Messer -Negro da Ponte Cararo</i>, who (among many other children) had a daughter -called <i>Andreana</i>, yong and beautifull, but as yet unmarried. It fortuned, -that shee fell in love with a neighbour, named <i>Gabriello</i>, a comely -yong Gentleman, of affable complexion, and graciously conditioned. -Which love 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 <i>Andreanaes</i> Father, she had many -meetings with her <i>Gabriello</i>. And solemne vowes being mutually passed -betweene them, that nothing but death could alter their affection: by -such ceremonious words as are used in marriage, they maried themselves -secretly together, and continued their stolne chaste pleasures, with equall -contentment to them both.</p> - -<p>It came to passe, that <i>Andreana</i> sleeping in her bed, dreamed, that she -met with <i>Gabriello</i> in the Garden, where they both embracing lovingly -together, she seemed to see a thing blacke and terrible, which sodainely -issued forth of his body, but the shape thereof she could not comprehend. -It rudely seized upon <i>Gabriello</i>, & in despight of her utmost strength (with -incredible force) snatched him out of her armes, and sinking with him -into the earth, they never after did see one another; whereuppon, overcome -with extremity of greefe and sorrow, presently shee awaked, being -then not a little joyfull, that she found no such matter as shee feared, yet -continued very doubtfull of her dreame. In regard whereof, <i>Gabriello</i> 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 middst of the Garden.</p> - -<p>After some small familiar discourse passing betweene them, <i>Gabriello</i> -demanded of her upon what occasion shee denied his comming thither -the night before, and by such a sodaine unexpected admonition? <i>Andreana</i> -told him, that it was in regard of a troublesome dreame, wherewith hir -soule was perplexed the precedent night, and doubt what might ensue -thereon. <i>Gabriello</i> hearing this, began to smile, affirming to her, that it -was an especiall note of folly, to give any credit to idle dreames: because -(oftentimes) they are caused by excesse of feeding, and continually are -observed to be meere lies. For (quoth hee) if I had any superstitious beleefe -of dreames, I should not then have 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.</p> - -<p>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 loveliest and most pleasing beast that was ever 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 us (but whence, or how -I could not imagine) seeming halfe hunger-starved, and very ugly to look -upon. 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 upon 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 frivolous and idle search. What can be said then in these or the like cases? -Divers times I have had as ill seeming dreames, yea, and much more -to be feared: yet never any thing hurtfull to me followed thereon; and -therefore I have alwaies made the lesse account of them.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Gabriello</i>: but yet to give him no occasion of distast, she bare -it out in the best manner she could devise 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 upon his face, and throwing strange lookes to all -parts of the Garden, to catch hold on any such blacke ugly sight, whereof -he had formerly made description to her. As thus she continued in these -afflicting feares, it fortuned, that <i>Gabriello</i> sodainly breathing forth a very -vehement sighe, and throwing his armes fast about her, said: O helpe me -deare Love, or else I dye; and, in speaking the words, fell downe uppon -the ground. Which the yong Damosell perceiving, and drawing him into -her lappe, weeping saide: Alas sweete Friend, What paine dost thou -feele?</p> - -<p><i>Gabriello</i> answered not one word, but being in an exceeding sweate, -without any ability of drawing breath, very soone after gave up the ghost. -How greevous this strange accident was to poore <i>Andreana</i>, who loved -him as deerely as her owne life: you that have felt loves tormenting afflictions, -can more easily conceive, then I relate. Wringing her hands, & -weeping incessantly, calling him, rubbing his temples, and using all likely -meanes to reduce life: she found all her labour to be spent in vain, because -he was starke dead indeed, and every 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 sorrow. -After they had sighed and mourned awhile, over the dead body of <i>Gabriello, -Andreana</i> in this manner spake to her maid.</p> - -<p>Seeing Fortune hath thus bereft me of my Love, mine owne life must -needs be hatefull to me: but before I offer any violence to my selfe, let us -devise some convenient meanes, as may both preserve mine honour from -any touch or scandall, and conceale the secret love passing betweene us: -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, never talke of doing any violence to your self, -because by such a blacke and dismall deed, as you have lost his kind company -here in this life, so shall you never 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 fervent 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 never he hath bene seene by any, or his -resorting hither knowne, but onely to our selves. If you will not consent -to have it so, let you and I convey his bodye hence, and leave 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 give it honest buriall.</p> - -<p><i>Andreana</i>, although her soule was extraordinarily sorrowfull, & teares -flowed abundantly from her eyes; yet she listned attentively to hir maids -counsell; allowing her first advice against desperation, to be truly good; -but to the rest thus she replied. God forbid (quoth she) that I shold suffer -so deare a loving friend, as he hath alwayes shewed himselfe to mee; -nay, which is much more, my husband; by sacred and solemn vowes passed -betweene us, 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 prevaile, he shall have some of his kindred, as I have instantly -devised, what (in this hard case) is best to be done. Forthwith she sent -the maid to her Chamber, for divers elles of white Damaske lying in her -Chest, which when she had brought, they spread it abroad on the grasse, -even in the manner of a winding sheete, and therein wrapped the bodie -of <i>Gabriello</i>, with a faire wrought pillow lying under his head, having first -(with their teares) closed his mouth and eyes, and placed a Chaplet of -Flowers on his head, covering the whole shrowd over in the same manner, -which being done, thus she spake to her maide.</p> - -<p>The doore of his owne house is not farre hence, and thither (between -us two) he may be easily carried, even in this manner as we have adorned -him; where leaving 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 uttered 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 <i>Gabriello</i> had solemnly espoused her, and opening -the shroud againe, she put it on his finger, saying, My deare and loving -husband, if thy soule can see my teares, or any understanding do remaine -in thy body, being thus untimely taken from me: receive the latest guifte -thou gavest me, as a pledge of our solemne and spotlesse marriage. So, -making up the shroud againe as it should be, and conveighing it closely -out of the Garden, they went on along with it, towardes his dwelling -house.</p> - -<p>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. <i>Andreana</i>, 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 availe me: wherefore, I am ready -to go along with you before the Seigneurie, and there will 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 Objections.</p> - -<p>When notice heereof was given 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 divers -Physitians, to be informed by them, whether the Gentleman were -poysoned, or otherwise murthered: but al of them affirmed the contrary, -avouching rather, that some impostumation had engendred neere his -heart, which sodainly breaking, occasioned his as sodaine death. The Potestate -hearing this, and perceiving that <i>Andreana</i> 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, provoking him to the immodest -motion, that upon 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 <i>Virago</i>, -shee worthily withstood, defending her honour Nobly, and reprooving -him with many injurious speeches, such as a lustfull Letcher justlie deserved.</p> - -<p>On the morrow morning, these newes being brought to her Father, -<i>Messer Negro da Ponte Cararo</i>; greeving thereat exceedingly, and accompanied -with many of his friends, he went to the Palace. Being there arrived, -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 prove her, he had made such a motion to her, but finding her so -firmly vertuous, his love 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.</p> - -<p>While thus they continued talking, <i>Andreana</i> 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 have both seene and knowne them: rather most humblie, I -crave your pardon, for another error by me committed, in that, both -without your leave and liking, I accepted the man as my troth-plighted -husband, whom (above 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 favour; with which words, in signe -of her humility, she kissed his feete. <i>Messer Negro da Ponte</i>, being a man -well stept into yeares, and of a milde and gentle nature, observing what -his daughter had saide: could not refraine from teares, and in his weeping, -lovingly tooke her from the ground, speaking thus to her.</p> - -<p>Daughter, I could have wished, that thou hadst taken such an husband, -as (in my judgement) had bene best fitting for thee, and yet if thou didst -make election of one, answerable to thine owne good opinion & liking: -I have no just reason to be therewith offended. My greatest cause of complaint, -is, thy too severe concealing it from me, and the slender trust thou -didst repose in me, because thou hast lost him, before I knew him. Neverthelesse, -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 have contented thee, by making him my Sonne in Law, if -he had lived; so I will expresse the like love to him now he is dead. And -so turning himself to his kindred and friends, lovingly requested of them, -that they would grace <i>Gabriello</i> with most honourable obsequies.</p> - -<p>By this time, the kindred and friends to the dead man (uppon 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 <i>Gabriello</i> beeing -laide in the midst of the Court, upon the white Damaske shrowde given -by <i>Andreana</i>, with infinite Roses and other sweet Flowers lying thereon: -and such was the peoples love to him, that never was any mans death, -more to be bemoaned and lamented. Being delivered 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 honour and reverence.</p> - -<p>Within some few dayes after, the Potestate pursuing his former motion -of marriage, and the Father moving it to his daughter; she wold not -by any meanes listen thereto. And he being desirous to give her contentment, -delivered her and her Chamber-maid into a Religious Abbey, very -famous for devotion and sanctity, where afterwardes they ended their -lives.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Faire_Simonida_affecting_Pasquino_and_walking_with_him_in_a_pleasant_garden" id="Faire_Simonida_affecting_Pasquino_and_walking_with_him_in_a_pleasant_garden"><i>Faire</i> Simonida <i>affecting</i> Pasquino, <i>and walking with him in a pleasant garden, -it fortuned, that</i> Pasquino <i>rubbed his teeth with a leafe of Sage, and -immediately fell downe dead.</i> Simonida <i>being brought before the bench of -Justice, and charged with the death of</i> Pasquino: <i>she rubbed her teeth likewise -with one of the leaves of the same Sage, as declaring what shee saw him -do: and thereon she dyed also in the same manner.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The seaventh Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Whereby is given to understand, that Love & Death do use their power equally -alike, as well upon poore and meane persons, as on them that are rich and -Noble.</i></h4> - - -<p><i>Pamphilus</i> having ended his Tale, the King declaring an outward shew -of compassion, in regard of <i>Andreanaes</i> disastrous Fortune: fixed his -eye on Madam <i>Emillia</i>, and gave her such an apparant signe, as expressed -his pleasure, for her next succeeding in discourse; which being sufficient -for her understanding, thus she began: Faire assembly, the Novel so lately -delivered by <i>Pamphilus</i>, maketh me willing to report another to you, -varying from it, in any kinde of resemblance; onely this excepted: that -as <i>Andreana</i>, lost her lover in a Garden, even so did shee of whome I am -now to speake. And being brought before the seate of Justice, according -as <i>Andreana</i> 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 Love is such (according as wee have 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 unto you, either in all, or a great part of my -Novell, whereto our Citie pleadeth some title; though, by the diversity -of our discourses, talking of so many severall accidents; we have wandred -into many other parts of the world, to make all answerable to our owne -liking.</p> - -<p>It is not any long time since, when there lived in our City of <i>Florence</i>, -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 <i>Simonida</i>. Now, albeit shee was not supplied by any better -meanes, then to maintaine her selfe by her owne painfull travell, & 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 dejected a spirit, but had both -courage and sufficient vertue, to understand the secret solicitings of love, -and to distinguish the parts of well deserving, both by private behaviour -and outward ceremony. As naturall instinct was her first tutor thereto, -so wanted she not a second maine and urging motion; a chip hewed out -of the like Timber, one no better in birth then her selfe, a proper young -springall, named <i>Pasquino</i>, whose generous behaviour, and gracefull actions -(in bringing her daily wooll to spin, by reason his master was a Clothier) -prevailed upon her liking and affection.</p> - -<p>Nor was he negligent in the observation of her amorous regards, but -the Tinder tooke, and his soule flamed with the selfe-same fire; making -him as desirous of her loving acceptance, as possibly she could bee of his: -so that the commanding power of love, could not easily be distinguished -in which of them it had the greater predominance. For, everie 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 conceyved of him, and earnest desire to enjoy him. <i>Pasquino</i> on -the other side, as leysure gave him leave for the least conversing with her: -his disease was every way answerable to her, for teares stood in his eyes, -sighes flew abroad, to ease the poore hearts afflicting oppressions, which -though he was unable to conceale; yet would hee seeme to clowd them -cleanly, by entreating her that his masters worke might be neatly 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 received from her, were the choisest beauty of the whole peece; -so that when other worke-women played, <i>Simonida</i> was sure to want no -employment.</p> - -<p>Heereupon, the one soliciting, and the other taking delight in beeing -solicited; it came to passe, that often accesse bred the bolder courage, & -over-much bashfulnesse became abandoned, yet no immodestie passing -betweene them: but affection grew the better setled in them both, by interchangeable -vowes of constant perseverance, so that death onely, but -no disaster else had power to divide them. Their mutuall delight continuing -on in this manner, with more forcible encreasing of their Loves equall -flame; it fortuned, that <i>Pasquino</i> sitting by <i>Simonida</i>, tolde her of a -goodly Garden, whereto hee was desirous to bring her, to the end, that -they might the more safely converse together, without the suspition of -envious eyes. <i>Simonida</i> gave answer of her well-liking the motion, and -acquainting her Father therewith, he gave her leave, on the Sunday following -after dinner, to go serch the pardon of S. <i>Gallo</i>, and afterwards to -visit the Garden.</p> - -<p>A modest yong maiden named <i>Lagina</i>, following the same profession, -and being an intimate familiar friend, <i>Simonida</i> tooke along in her company, -and came to the Garden appointed by <i>Pasquino</i>; where shee found -him readily expecting her comming, and another friend also with him, -called <i>Puccino</i> (albeit more usually tearmed <i>Strambo</i>) a secret well-willer -to <i>Lagina</i>, whose love became the more furthered by this friendly meeting. -Each Lover delighting in his hearts chosen Mistresse, caused them -to walke alone by themselves, as the spaciousnesse of the Garden gave -them ample liberty: <i>Puccino</i> with his <i>Lagina</i> in one part, & <i>Pasquino</i> with -his <i>Simonida</i> 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 -themselves; affecting rather to continue still there, then in any part of the -Garden.</p> - -<p>One while they would sit downe by the Sage bed, and afterward rise -to walke againe, as ease or wearinesse seemed to invite them. At length, -<i>Pasquino</i> 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 <i>Simonida</i> beheld, wringing her hands, she -cryed out for helpe to <i>Strambo</i> and <i>Lagina</i>, who immediately came running -to her. They finding <i>Pasquino</i> not onely to be dead, but his bodie -swolne; and strangely over-spred with foule black spots, both on his face, -handes, and all parts else beside: <i>Strambo</i> cried out, saying; Ah wicked -maide, what hast thou poisoned him?</p> - -<p>These words and their shrill out-cries also, were heard by Neighbours -dwelling neere to the Garden, who comming in sodainly uppon them, -and seeing <i>Pasquino</i> lying dead, and hugely swoln, <i>Strambo</i> likewise complaining, -and accusing <i>Simonida</i> to have poysoned him; shee making no -answer, but standing in a gastly amazement, all her senses meerely confounded, -at such a strange and uncouth accident, in loosing him whome -she so dearely loved: knew not how to excuse her selfe, and therefore every -one verily beleeved, that <i>Strambo</i> had not unjustly 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 justified by <i>Strambo, Lagina,</i> and two men more; the one named <i>Atticciato</i>, -and the other <i>Malagevole</i>, fellowes and companions with <i>Pasquino</i>, -who came into the Garden also upon the out-cry.</p> - -<p>The Judge, without any delay at all, gave eare to the business, 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 presence of <i>Simonida</i>, hee desired to -see the dead body, and the place where he fell downe dead, because there -he intended to have 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 avoid the following of the turbulent multitude: -they departed from the bench of Justice, and came to the place, -where <i>Pasquinoes</i> body lay swolne like a Tunne. Demanding there questions, -concerning his behaviour, when they walked there in conference -together, and, not a little admiring the manner of his death, while hee -stood advisedly considering thereon.</p> - -<p>She going to the bed of Sage, reporting the whole precedent history, -even from the original to the ending: the better to make the case understood, -without the least colour of ill carriage towardes <i>Pasquino</i>; according -as she had seene him do, even so did she plucke another leafe of the -Sage, rubbing her teeth therewith, and champing it as he formerly did. -<i>Strambo</i>, and the other intimate friends of <i>Pasquino</i>, having noted in what -manner she used the Sage, and this appearing as her utmost refuge, either -to acquit or condemne her: in presence of the Judge they smiled thereat, -mocking and deriding whatsoever 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 just punishment for her abhominable transgression.</p> - -<p>Poore <i>Simonida</i>, sighing and sorrowing for her deere loves losse, and -(perhappes) not meanly terrified, with the strict infliction of torment so -severely urged and followed by <i>Strambo</i> 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, even by the like accident as <i>Pasquino</i> formerly -did, to the admirable astonishment of all there present.</p> - -<p>Oh poore infortunate Lovers, whose Starres were so inauspicious to -you, as to finish both your mortall lives, and fervent love, in lesse limitation -then a dayes space. How to censure of your deaths, and happines to -ensue thereon, by an accident so straunge and inevitable: it is not within -the compasse of my power, but to hope the best, and so I leave you. But -yet concerning <i>Simonida</i> her selfe, in the common opinion of us that remaine -living: her true vertue and innocency (though Fortune was other -wise most cruell to her) would not suffer her to sinke under the testimony -of <i>Strambo, Lagina, Atticciato</i> and <i>Malagevole</i>, 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 <i>Pasquino</i>, -in the verie same manner of death, and with such a speedie expedition.</p> - -<p>The Judge standing amazed, and all there present in his companie, -were silent for a long while together: but, uppon better re-collection of -his spirits, thus he spake. This inconvenience which thus hath hapned, -and confounded our senses with no common admiration; in mine opinion -concerneth the bed of Sage, avouching it either to bee venomous, -or dangerously infected; which (neverthelesse) is seldom found in Sage. -But to the end, that it may not be offensive to any more heereafter, I will -have it wholly digd up by the rootes, and then to bee burnt in the open -Market place.</p> - -<p>Hereupon, the Gardiner was presently sent for, and before the Judge -would depart thence, he saw the bed of Sage digged up by the roots, and -found the true occasion, whereby these two poore Lovers lost their lives. -For, just in the middest of the bed, and at the maine roote, which directed -all the Sage in growth; lay an huge mighty Toad, even weltring (as -it were) in a hole full of poyson; by meanes whereof, in conjecture of the -Judge, and all the rest, the whole bed of Sage became envenomed, occasioning -every leafe thereof to be deadly in taste. None being so hardie, -as to approach neere the Toade, they made a pile of wood directly over -it, and setting it on a flaming fire, threw all the Sage thereinto, and so they -were consumed together. So ended all further suite in Lawe, concerning -the deaths of <i>Pasquino</i> and <i>Simonida</i>: whose bodies being carried to -the Church of Saint <i>Paul</i>, by their sad and sorrowfull accusers, <i>Strambo, -Lagina, Atticciato</i> and <i>Malagevole</i>, were buried together in one goodlie -Monument, for a future memory of their hard Fortune.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Jeronimo_affecting_a_yong_Maiden_named_Silvestra_was_constrained_by_the" id="Jeronimo_affecting_a_yong_Maiden_named_Silvestra_was_constrained_by_the">Jeronimo <i>affecting a yong Maiden, named</i> Silvestra: <i>was constrained (by the -earnest importunity of his Mother) to take a journey to</i> Paris. <i>At his return -home from thence againe, hee found his love</i> Silvestra <i>married. By secret -meanes, he got entrance into her house, and dyed upon the bed lying by her. -Afterward, his body being carried to Church, to receive buriall, she likewise -died there instantly upon his coarse.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The eight Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is againe declared, the great indiscretion and folly of them, that think -to constraine love, according to their will, after it is constantly setled before: -With other instructions, concerning the unspeakeable power of -Love.</i></h4> - - -<p>Madam <i>Emillia</i> had no sooner concluded her Novell, but Madame -<i>Neiphila</i> (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 themselves 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 understanding, against infallible grounded reason, yea, and to -attempt courses, not only contrary to the counsell and judgment of men, -but also to crosse the nature of divine ordination. Out of which fancy & -ambitious presumption, many mighty harmes have already had beginning, -and more are like to ensue uppon such boldnesse, because it is the -ground of all evils.</p> - -<p>Now, in regard that among all other naturall things, no one is lesse -subject to take counsell, or can bee wrought to contrariety, then Love, -whose nature is such, as rather to run upon his owne rash consumption, -then to be ruled by admonitions of the very wisest: my memory hath inspired -itself, with matter incident to this purpose, effectually to approve, -what I have already said. For I am now to speake of a woman, who would -appeare to have more wit, then either she had indeed, or appertained to -her by any title. The matter also, wherein she would needs shew hir studious -judgement and capacity, was of much more consequence then she -could deserve to meddle withall. Yet such was the issue of her fond presuming; -that (in one instant) she expelled both love, and the soule of her -owne sonne out of his body, where (doubtlesse) it was planted by divine -favour and appointment.</p> - -<p>In our owne City (according to true & ancient testimony) there dwelt -sometime a very worthy and wealthy Merchant, named <i>Leonardo Sighiero</i>, -who by his wife had one onely Sonne, called <i>Jeronimo</i>, and within a -short while after his birth, <i>Leonardo</i> being very sicke, and having setled al -his affaires in good order; departed out of this wretched life to a better. -The Tutors and Governours of the Childe, thought it fittest to let him -live with his Mother, where he had his whole education, though schooled -among many other worthy neighbours children, according as in most -Cities they use to do. Yong <i>Jeronimo</i> 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 neighbours children, and much prety pastime -they found together.</p> - -<p>In the harmlesse recreations of youth, graver judgements have often -observed, that some especiall matter received then such original, as greater -effect hath followed thereon. And many times, parents and kindred -have 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 divers other such like kind -tearmes, prooving afterwards to be true indeede. It fell out so with our -yong <i>Jeronimo</i>; 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 favour and feature (albeit her Father was -but poore) <i>Jeronimo</i> most delighted to sport withall; and no other titles -passed betweene them, even 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.</p> - -<p>Nor grew this familiarity (as yet) any way distasted, till by their dayly -conversing together, and enterchange of infinite pretty speeches: <i>Jeronimo</i> -felt a strange alteration in his soule, with such enforcing and powerfull -afflictions; as he was never well but in her company, nor she enjoyed -any rest if <i>Jeronimo</i> were absent. At the length, this being noted by -his Mother, she beganne to rebuke him, yea, many times gave him both -threatnings and blowes, which proving 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 upon a blacke thorne, spake as -followeth.</p> - -<p>This Sonne of mine <i>Jeronimo</i>, being as yet but fourteene years of age, -is so deeply enamored of a yong Girle, named <i>Silvestra</i>, daughter unto 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 us procure -her marriage to some other. Wherefore, I hold it good, that to avoid so -great an inconvenience, we shold send <i>Jeronimo</i> 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 utterly disappointed; -his affection to her will the sooner ceasse, by frustrating his hope for ever -enjoying her, and so we shall have the better meanes, to match him with -one of greater quality. The Tutors did like well of her advice, not doubting -but it would take answerable effect: and therefore, calling <i>Jeronimo</i> -into a private Parlour, one of them began in this manner.</p> - -<p><i>Jeronimo</i>, you are now growne to an indifferent stature, and (almost) able -to take government of your selfe. It cannot then seeme any way inconvenient, -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 evermore remembred) and travaile would now seeme fitting for -you, as well to gaine experience in Traffick and Merchandize, as also to let you -see the worlds occurrences. Your Mother therefore (and we) have thought -it expedient, that you should journey from hence to <i>Paris</i>, there to continue -for some such fitting time, as may grant you full and free opportunity, -to survey what stocke of wealth is there employed for you, and to -make you understand, 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 civill courses of life; rather then by continuing here -to see none but Lords, Barons, and Gentlemen, whereof wee have too -great a number. When you are sufficiently qualified there, and have -learned what belongeth to a worthy Marchant, such as was <i>Leonardo Sighiero</i> -your famous Father; you may returne home againe at your owne -pleasure.</p> - -<p>The youth gave them attentive hearing, and (in few words) returned -them answer: That he would not give way to any such travaile, because -hee knew how to dispose of himselfe in <i>Florence</i>, as well as in any other -place he should be sent too. Which when his Tutors heard, they reproved -him with many severe 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 journey to <i>Paris</i>, -as in regard of his violent affection to the Maide; gave him very bitter -and harsh language. All which availing nothing, she began to speake -in a more milde and gentle straine, entreating him with flattering and affable -words, to be governed in this case by his Tutors good advise. And -so farre (in the end) she prevailed with him, that he yeelded to live at <i>Paris</i> -for the space of a yeare; but further time he would not graunt, and so -all was ended.</p> - -<p><i>Jeronimo</i> being gone to remain at <i>Paris</i>, his love daily increasing more -and more, by reason of his absence from <i>Silvestra</i>, under 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 -love 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 love <i>Silvestra</i>, by the cunning compacting of his Mother and Tutors, -he found married to a Tent-makers Sonne; whereat hee vexed and greeved -beyond all measure. Neverthelesse, seeing the case was now no way -to bee holpen; hee strove to beare it with so much patience, as so great -a wrong, and his hearts tormenting greefe, would give him leave to -doe.</p> - -<p>Having found out the place where she dwelt, hee began (as it is the -custome of yong Lovers) to use divers 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 never seene him before. Or if she did any way remember him, it appeared -to be so little, that manifest signes declared the contrary. Which -<i>Jeronimo</i> very quickely perceived, albeit not without many melanchollie -perturbations. Notwithstanding, he laboured by all possible meanes, to -recover her former kindnesse againe: but finding all his paines frivouslie -employed; he resolved to dye, and yet to compasse some speech with her -before.</p> - -<p>By meanes of a neere dwelling neighbour (that was his verie deare & -intimate friend) he came acquainted with every part of the house, & prevailed -so far, that one evening, when she and her husband supt at a neighbours -house; he compassed accesse into the same bed chamber, where <i>Silvestra</i> -used most to lodge. Finding the Curtaines ready drawne, he hid -himselfe behinde them on the further side of the bed, and so tarried there -untill <i>Silvestra</i> and her husband were returned home, and laide downe in -bedde to take their rest. The husbands sences were soone overcome with -sleepe, by reason of his painefull toyling all the day, and bodies that are -exercised with much labour, are the more desirous to have ease. She staying -up last, to put out the light, and hearing her husband sleepe so soundly, -that his snoring gave good evidence thereof: layed her selfe down the -more respectively, as being very loath any way to disease him, but sweetly -to let him enjoy his rest.</p> - -<p><i>Silvestra</i> lay on the same side of the bed, where <i>Jeronimo</i> had hid himselfe -behinde the Curtaines; who stepping softly to her in the darke, and -laying his hand gently on her brest, saide: Deare Love, forbeare a little -while to sleepe, for heere is thy loyall friend <i>Jeronimo</i>. The yong woman -starting with amazement, would have 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 leave of her. Alas <i>Jeronimo</i> (quoth she) those idle -dayes are past and gone, when it was no way unseemly for our youth, to -entertaine equality of those desires, which then well agreed with our -young blood. Since when, you have lived 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 never -heard the least salutation from you. Now you know me to be a married -wife, in regard whereof, my thoughts have embraced that chaste and honourable -resolution, not to minde any man but my husband; and therefore, -as you are come hither without my love or license, so in like manner -I do desire you to be gone. Let this priviledge of my Husbandes sound -sleeping, be no colour to your longer continuing heere, or encourage -you to finde any further favour 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 have both -mutually embraced.</p> - -<p>The yong man, hearing these wordes, and remembring what loving -kindnesse he had formerly found, what secret love Letters hee had sent -from <i>Paris</i>, with other private intelligences and tokens, which never -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 upon the beds side by her, uttered these his very last words. -<i>Silvestra</i> farewell, thou hast kilde the kindest heart that ever loved a woman: -and speaking no more, gave up the ghost. She hearing these words -delivered with an entire sighe, and deepe-fetcht groane: did not imagine -the strange consequence following thereon; yet was mooved to much -compassion, in regard of her former affection to him. Silent shee lay an -indifferent while, as being unable to returne him any answer; and looking -when he would be gone, according as before she had earnestly entreated -him. But when she perceyved him to lye so still, as neither word or motion -came from him, she saide: Kinde <i>Jeronimo</i>, why doest thou not depart -and get thee gone? So putting forth her hand, it hapned to light upon -his face, which she felt to be as cold as yce: whereat marvelling not a -little, as also at his continued silence: shee jogged him, and felt his hands -in like manner, which were stiffely extended forth, and all his body cold, -as not having any life remaining in him, which greatly amazing her, and -confounding her with sorrow beyond all measure, shee was in such perplexity, -that the could not devise what to do or say.</p> - -<p>In the end, she resolved 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, unknowne 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 unexpected -extremity, was, to take the dead body, and convey it to his owne -house, if he had any; whereby no scandall or reproach would followe -to them, in whose house he had so unfortunately dyed. Heereupon, shee -immediately arose, and lighting a candle, shewed him the dead bodie of -<i>Jeronimo</i>, with protestation of every particular, both of her innocencie, -either of knowledge of his comming thither, or any other blame that -could concerne her. Which hee both constantly knowing and beleeving, -made no more ceremonie, but putting on his Garments, tooke the dead -bodie upon his shoulders, and carried it to the Mothers doore, where he -left it, and afterward returned to his owne house againe.</p> - -<p>When day light was come, and the dead body found lying in the -Porch, it moved very much greefe and amazement, considering, he had -bin seene the day before, in perfect health to outward appearance. Nor -neede we to urge any question of his Mothers sorrow upon this straunge -accident, who, causing his body to bee carefully searched, without any -blow, bruise, wound, or hurt uppon it, the Physitians could not give 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 heavily by it, as many more did the like beside, because -he was beloved of every one. In which time of universall mourning, -the honest man (in whose house he dyed) spake thus to his wife: disguise -thyselfe in some decent manner, and go to the Church, where (as -I heare) they have laide the body of <i>Jeronimo</i>. 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.</p> - -<p><i>Silvestra</i>, 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 -advisedly we consider on the powerfull working of love; for the heart of -this woman, which the prosperous fortune of <i>Jeronimo</i> could not pierce, -now in his wofull death did split in sunder; and the ancient sparks of love -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 upon it: & even -as extremity of greefe finished his life, so did it hers in the same manner. -For she moved neither hand not foot, because her vitall powers had quite -forsaken her. The women labouring to comfort her by al the best means -they could devise; did not take any knowledge of her, by reason of her -disguised garments: but finding her dead indeede, and knowing her also -to be <i>Silvestra</i>, being overcome with unspeakable compassion, & danted -with no meane admiration, they stood strangely gazing each upon other.</p> - -<p>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 -understanding, 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 <i>Silvestra</i> and <i>Jeronimo</i>; by which discourse, -they generally conceived, the certaine occasion of both their sodaine -deaths, which moved 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 fortunes, they gave them honourable buriall -both in one grave. So, this poore couple, whome love (in life) could not -joyne together, death did unite in an inseparable conjunction.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Messer_Guiglielmo_of_Rossiglione_having_slaine_Messer_Guiglielmo_Guardastagno" id="Messer_Guiglielmo_of_Rossiglione_having_slaine_Messer_Guiglielmo_Guardastagno"><i>Messer</i> Guiglielmo <i>of</i> Rossiglione <i>having slaine Messer</i> Guiglielmo Guardastagno, -<i>whom hee imagined to love his wife, gave 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.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The ninth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Whereby appeareth, what ill successe attendeth on them, that love contrarie to -reason: in offering injurie both to friendship and marriage together.</i></h4> - - -<p>When the Novell of Madam <i>Neiphila</i> was ended, which occasioned -much compassion in the whole assembly; the King who wold -not infringe the priviledge graunted to <i>Dioneus</i>, no more remaining to -speake but they two, began thus. I call to minde (gentle Ladies) a Novell, -which (seeing we are so farre entred into the lamentable accidents of -successelesse love) will urge you unto 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 respective quality; which approveth the -accident to bee more cruell, then those whereof wee have formerly discoursed.</p> - -<p>According as the people of <i>Provence</i> do report, there dwelt sometime -in that jurisdiction, two noble Knights, each well possessed of Castles & -followers; the one beeing named <i>Messer Guiglielmo de Rossiglione</i>, and the -other <i>Messer Guiglielmo Guardastagno</i>. Now, in regard that they were both -valiant Gentlemen, and singularly expert in actions of Armes; they loved -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 five miles distant each from other, yet were they dayly conversant -together, as very loving and intimate friends. The one of them, I -meane <i>Messer Guiglielmo de Rossiglione</i>, had to wife a very gallant beautifull -Lady, of whom <i>Messer Guardastagno</i> (forgetting the lawes of respect -and loyall friendshippe) became over-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 lovingly entertained; -yet she grew not so forgetfull of her honour and estimation, as -the other did of faith to his friend.</p> - -<p>With such indiscretion was this idle love carried, that whether it sorted -to effect, or no, I know not: but the husband perceived some such manner -of behaviour, 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 converted 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 <i>Guardastagno</i>. Nothing wanted, but by what meanes it might -best be effected, which fell out to bee in this manner. A publicke Just or -Tourney, was proclaimed by sound of Trumpet throughout all France, -wherewith immediately, <i>Messer Guiglielmo Rossiglione</i> acquainted <i>Messer -Guardastagno</i>, entreating him that they might further conferre thereon together, -and for that purpose to come and visit him, if he intended to have -any hand in the businesse. <i>Guardastagno</i> being exceeding gladde of this -accident, which gave him liberty to see his Mistresse; sent answer backe -by the messenger, that on the morrow at night, he would come and sup -with <i>Rossiglione</i>; who upon this reply, projected to himselfe in what manner -to kill him.</p> - -<p>On the morrow, after dinner, arming himselfe, and two more of his -servants 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 <i>Guardastagno</i> 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 -unarmed, as no way distrusting any such intended treason. So soone as -he was come to the place, where he had resolved to do the deed; hee rushed -forth of the ambush, and having a sharpe Lance readily charged in -his rest, ran mainly at him, saying: False villain, thou art dead. <i>Guardastagno</i>, -having nothing wherewith to defend himselfe, nor his servants able -to give 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 usually -worne.</p> - -<p><i>Messer Guiglielmo Rossiglione</i>, alighting from his horse, and having a -keene knife ready drawne in his hand; opened therewith the brest of dead -<i>Guardastagno</i>, 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 never 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 <i>Guardastagnoes</i> intent, -to suppe there that night, and (perhaps) being earnestly desirous to see -him; mervailing at his so long tarrying, saide to her husband. Beleeve -me Sir (quoth she) me thinkes it is somewhat strange, that <i>Messer Guiglielmo -Guardastagno</i> delayes his comming so long, he never used to do so till -now. I received 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 used no more words.</p> - -<p><i>Rossiglione</i> leaving his Lady, went into the Kitchin, where calling for -the Cooke, he delivered 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 devise to doe; which being so done, when I -am set at the Table, send it to me in a silver dish, with sauce beseeming -so dainty a morsell. The Cooke tooke the heart, beleeving it to be no otherwise, -then as his Lord had saide: and using his utmost skill in dressing -it, did divide it into artificiall small slices, and made it most pleasing to be -tasted. When supper time was come, <i>Rossiglione</i> 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 provoked her with many faire speeches, to tast the Cooks -cunning in so rare a dish.</p> - -<p>The Lady having 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 perceyved that all was eaten, he said unto 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 never better pleased. Now trust mee -Madam, answered the Knight, I doe verily beleeve you, nor do I greatly -wonder thereat, if you like that dead, which you loved so dearly being alive. -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 have -made me to eate? Muse no longer (said he) for therein I will quickly resolve -thee. Thou hast eaten the heart of <i>Messer Guiglielmo Guardastagno</i>, -whose love 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.</p> - -<p>Poor Lady, how strangely was her soule afflicted, hearing these harsh -and unpleasing 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 have done a most -disloyall and damnable deede, misguided by your owne wicked jealous -opinion, and not by any just cause given you, to murther so worthie and -Noble a Gentleman. I protest unto you uppon my soule, which I wish -to bee confounded in eternall perdition, if ever I were unchaste to your -bedde, or allowed him any other favour, 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 <i>Guardastagno</i>; never shall any other -foode heereafter, have entertainment there, or my selfe live the Wife to -so bloody a husband.</p> - -<p>So starting uppe from the Table, and stepping unto 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 shivered -her bodie into many peeces. Which <i>Rossiglione</i> perceyving, 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 over-credulous -conceit.</p> - -<p>Uppon further conference with his private thoughtes, and remorsefull -acknowledgement of his heinous offence, which repentance (too -late) gave him eyes now to see, though rashnesse before would not permit -him to consider; these two extreamities inlarged his dulled understanding. -First, he grew fearfull of the friends and followers to murdered -<i>Guardastagno</i>, as also the whole Countrey of <i>Provence</i>, in regarde of the -peoples generall love unto him; which being two maine and important -motives, both to the detestation of so horrid an acte, and immediate severe -revenge to succeed thereon: hee made such provision as best hee -could, and as so sodaine a warning would give leave, hee fled away secretly -in the night season.</p> - -<p>These unpleasing newes were soone spread abroad the next morning, -not only of the unfortunate accidents, but also of <i>Rossigliones</i> flight; -in regard whereof, the dead bodyes being found, and brought together, -as well by the people belonging to <i>Guardastagno</i>, as them that attended -on the Lady: they were layed in the Chappell of <i>Rossigliones</i> 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 -engraven thereon, expressing both their noble degree, and by what -unhappy meanes, they chanced to have buriall there.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="A_Physitians_wife_laide_a_Lover_of_her_Maids_supposing_him_to_bee_dead_in_a" id="A_Physitians_wife_laide_a_Lover_of_her_Maids_supposing_him_to_bee_dead_in_a"><i>A Physitians wife laide a Lover of her Maids (supposing him to bee dead) in a -Chest, by reason that he had drunke water, which usually was given to procure -a sleepy entrancing. Two Lombard Usurers, 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 Justice, accuseth her selfe for putting -the imagined dead body into the Chest, by which meanes he escapeth hanging. -And the theeves which stole away the Chest, were condemned to pay a great -summe of money.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The tenth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is declared, that sometime by adventurous accident, rather then anie -reasonable comprehension, a man may escape out of manifold perilles, but -especially in occurrences of Love.</i></h4> - - -<p>After that the King had concluded his Novell, there remained -none now but <i>Dioneus</i> to tell the last; which himselfe confessing, -and the King commaunding him to proceede, he beganne in this -manner. So many miseries of unfortunate Love, as all of you have -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 up 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 humour, 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 Novell which may -minister a more joviall kinde of argument, unto those tales that must bee -told to morrow, and with the expiration of our present Kings reigne, to -rid us of all heart-greeving heereafter.</p> - -<p>Know then (most gracious assembly) that it is not many yeares since, -when there lived in <i>Salerne</i>, a verie famous Physitian, named Signieur -<i>Mazzeo della Montagna</i>, who being already well entred into years, would -(neverthelesse) marrie with a beautifull young Mayden of the Cittie, -bestowing rich garments, gaudie attyres, Ringes, and Jewelles on her, -such as few Women else could any way equall, because hee loved her -most deerely. Yet being an aged man, and never remembering, how -vaine and idle a thing it is, for age to make such an unfitting Election, -injurious 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 -<i>Ricciardo de Cinzica</i>, some dayes of the Calender did heere seeme -as distastefull, as those that occasioned the other Womans discontentment. -In such unequall choyses, Parents commonly are more blame-woorthie, -then any imputation, to bee layde on the young Women, -who gladdely would enjoy such as in heart they have elected: but that -their Parents, looking thorough the glasses of greedie lucre, doe overthrow -both their owne hopes, and the faire fortunes of their children together.</p> - -<p>Yet to speake uprightly 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 urging -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 services (seeming compassionate -of the womans disaster) are usually the cause of jealous suspitions, & very -heinous houshold discontentments.</p> - -<p>Among divers other, that faine would bee nibling at this bayte of -beautie, there was one, named <i>Ruggiero de Jeroly</i>, 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 utterly gave -him over to his dissolute courses: so that, thoroughout all <i>Salerne</i>, his -conditions caused his generall contempt, and hee accounted no better, -but even as a theeving and lewde companion. The Doctours Wife, -had a Chamber-maide attending on her; who, notwithstanding all the -ugly deformities in <i>Ruggiero</i>, 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.</p> - -<p><i>Ruggiero</i> having this benefite of the Maides kinde love to him, made it -an hopefull mounting Ladder, whereby to derive 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 unable by any perswasions to remoove -her, tooke knowledge of <i>Ruggieroes</i> privat resorting to hir house, -and in meere love to her Maide (who had very many especiall deservings -in her) oftentimes she would (in kinde manner) rebuke him, and advise -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 Silver, 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.</p> - -<p>In the continuance of these proceedings, it came to passe, that master -Doctor <i>Mazzeo</i> (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 -judgement having 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 prejudice any other part of the bodie. The case beeing thus -resolved on with the Pacient and his Friends, the day and time was appointed -when the deede should be done: and the Doctor conceyving, -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 receyved it) it will procure a kinde of dead sleepe, and endure so -long a space, as necessity requireth the use thereof, in full performance of -the worke.</p> - -<p>After he had made this sleepy water, he put it into a glasse, wherewith -it was filled (almost) up to the brimme; and till the time came when hee -should use it; hee set it in his owne Chamber-Windowe, never acquainting -any one, to what purpose he had provided the water, nor what -was his reason of setting it there; when it drew towards the evening, and -he was returned home from his pacients, a Messenger brought him Letters -from <i>Malfy</i>, concerning a great conflict hapning there between two -Noble Families, wherein divers were very dangerously wounded on either -side, and without his speedy repairing thither, it would prove to the -losse of many lives. Heereupon, the cure of the mans leg must needs bee -prolonged, untill 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 small Barke, -and forthwith set away towards <i>Malfy</i>.</p> - -<p>This absence of Master Doctor <i>Mazzeo</i>, gave opportunity to adventurous -<i>Ruggiero</i>, to visite his house (he being gone) in hope to get more -Crownes, and courtesie from the Mistresse, under formall colour of -courting the Maide. And being closely admitted into the house, when -divers 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 <i>Ruggiero</i> 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 leave, and were gone. <i>Ruggiero</i> 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.</p> - -<p>Now, whether feeding on salt meats before his coming thither, or customary -use of drinking, which maketh men unable any long while to abstain, -as being never satisfied with excesse; which of these two extreams -they were, I know not: but drink needs hee must. And, having no other -meanes for quenching his thirst, espied the glasse of water standing in the -Window, and thinking it to be some soveraigne kinde of water, reserved -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 every 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.</p> - -<p>No sooner were all the Neighbours gone, and the Maide at libertie -from her Mistresse, but unlocking the doore, into the chamber she went; -and finding <i>Ruggiero</i> sitting fast asleepe, she began to hunch and punche -him, entreating him (softly) to awake: but all was to no purpose, for hee -neither mooved, or answered one word, whereat her patience being some -what provoked, 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. <i>Ruggiero</i> 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 devise to do, yet all -her labour proving still in vaine: she was almost beside her wits, stamping -and raving all about the roome, as if sence and reason had forsaken her; -so violent was her extreame distraction.</p> - -<p>Upon the hearing of this noise, her Mistris came sodainely into the -Chamber, where being affrighted at so strange an accident, and suspecting -that <i>Ruggiero</i> 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 advisedly 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 love to this unruly fellow -that can sway the censure of the monster multitude, in beleeving his accesse -hither onely to thee: but my good name, and honest repute, as yet -untoucht with the very least taxation, will be rackt on the tenter of infamous -judgement, and (though never so cleare) branded with generall -condemnation. It is wisedome therefore, that we should make no noise -but (in silence) consider with our selves, how to cleare the house of this -dead body, by some such helpfull and witty device, as when it shall bee -found in the morning, his being heere may passe without suspition, and -the worlds rash opinion no way touch us.</p> - -<p>Weeping and lamenting is now laid aside, and all hope in them of his -lives 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 evening, although it was very late, at our next Neighbours -doore (who you know is a Joyner 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 remooved: and if the owner have not -lockt it, all invention else cannot furnish us with the like help. For therein -will we lay his body, whereon I will bestow two or three wounds with -my Knife, and leaving 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. Moreover, -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 business, and afterward -hid his body in the chest, it standing so fitly for the purpose, and -darke night also favouring the deed.</p> - -<p>The Maids counsell past under the seale of allowance, only her Mistris -thought it not convenient, that (having 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 conveied -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 unlockt, whereof they -were not a little joyfull. By the helpe of her Mistresse, the Maide tooke -<i>Ruggiero</i> upon her shoulders, and bringing him to the doore, with -diligent respect that no one could discover them; in the Chest they laide -him, and so there left him, closing downe the lidde according as they -found it.</p> - -<p>In the same street, and not farre from the Joyner, dwelt two yong men -who were Lombards, living uppon the interest of their moneyes, coveting -to get much, and spend little. They having observed where the chest -stood, and wanting a necessary mooveable 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 heavy, and therefore imagining, that matter of woorth was -contained therein. In the chamber where their wives lay, they left it; and -so without any further search till the next morning, they laid them down -to rest likewise.</p> - -<p><i>Ruggiero</i>, 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 recoverd 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 divers dayes and nights afterward. Having his eies wide open, & yet -not discerning any thing, he stretched forth his armes every 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 up in a chest. What shold -I thinke heereof? Is master Doctor returned home, or hath some other -inconvenience 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.</p> - -<p>Continuing thus a longer while then otherwise hee would have done, -because his lying in the bare Chest was somewhat uneasie and painfull to -him; turning divers times on the one side, and then as often again on the -other, coveting 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 un-even -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 overcome with feare, that they had not the power to speake one -word. <i>Ruggiero</i> also being affrighted with the Chests fall, and perceiving -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 -up 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.</p> - -<p>When the Women (being then awake) heard his trampling, as also -his justling against the doores and Windowes; they demaunded, -Who was there? <i>Ruggiero</i>, 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, Theeves, Theeves. The -neighbours arose upon this outcry, running up and downe from place to -place, some engirting the house, and others entering into it: by means of -which troublesome noise, the two Lombards awaked, and seizing there -uppon poore <i>Ruggiero</i>, (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.</p> - -<p>By this time, the Sergeants and other Officers of the City, ordinarily -attending on the Magistrate, beeing raised by the tumult of this uproare, -were come into the house, and had poore <i>Ruggiero</i> committed unto their -charge: who bringing him before the Governor, 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, never 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 Governor gave him sentence to be hanged.</p> - -<p>Soone were the newes spread throughout <i>Salerne</i>, that <i>Ruggiero</i> was -apprehended, about robbing the house of the two usuring Lombardes: -which when Mistresse Doctor and her Chamber-maide heard, they were -confounded with most straunge admiration, and scarsely credited what -they themselves had done the night before, but rather imagined all matters -past, to be no more then meerely a dreame, concerning <i>Ruggieroes</i> -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.</p> - -<p>In a short while after, Master Doctor <i>Mazzeo</i> was returned from <i>Malfy</i>, -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 never 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 us 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.</p> - -<p>When she had heard these words of her husband, presently she conceived, -that the water was drunke off by <i>Ruggiero</i>, which had so sleepily -entranced his sences, as they verily thought him to bee dead, wherefore -she saide. Beleeve me Sir, you never acquainted us with any such matter, -which would have procured more carefull respect of it: but seeing -it is gone, 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 understand truly, whither -the condemned man was <i>Ruggiero</i>, 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 <i>Ruggiero</i>, who is the man condemned to dye; and, for -ought I can perceive, he hath neither Kinsman nor Friend that will doe any -thing for him; but he is left with the Provost, and must be executed to -morrow morning. Moreover Mistresse, by such instructions as I have -received, I can well-neere informe you, by what meanes hee came to the -two Lombards house, if all be true that I have heard.</p> - -<p>You know the Joyner before whose doore the Chest stoode, wherein -we did put <i>Ruggiero</i>; there is now a contention betweene him and another -man, to whom (it seemeth) the Chest doth belong; in regard whereof, -they are readie to quarrell extremly each with other. For the one owning -the Chest, and trusting the Joyner to sell it for him, would have him -to pay him for the Chest. The Joyner denieth any sale thereof, avouching, -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 -usurers, as himself is able to affirme, because he found it in the house, -when he (being present at the apprehension of <i>Ruggiero</i>) sawe it there in -the same house. Heereupon, the Joyner gave him the lye, because he never -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, even as I returned home. -Wherefore Mistresse, as you may easily perceive, <i>Ruggiero</i> was (questionlesse) -carried thither in the chest, and so there found; but how he revived -againe, I cannot comprehend.</p> - -<p>The Mistresse understanding now apparantly, the full effect of the -whole businesse, and in what manner it had bene carried, revealed to the -maide her husbands speeches, concerning the glasse of sleepie Water, -which was the onely engine of all this trouble, clearly acquitting <i>Ruggiero</i> -of the robbery, howsoever (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 behaviour 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 advise her with some such happy course, as might bee -the safety of poore <i>Ruggieroes</i> life. Mistresse Doctor, affecting her maide -dearely, and plainly perceiving, that no disastrous fortune whatsoever, -could alter her love to condemned <i>Ruggiero</i>; hoping the best heereafter, -as the Maide her selfe did, and willing to save life rather then suffer it to -be lost without just cause, she directed her in such discreet manner, as you -will better conceyve by the successe.</p> - -<p>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 -over-much offended him. As how? said Master Doctor. In this manner -(quoth the Maid) and thus proceeded. You are not ignorant Sir, what a -leud liver <i>Ruggiero de Jeroly</i> is, and notwithstanding all his imperfections, -how dearely I love him, as hee protesteth the like to me, and thus hath -our love continued a yeare, and more. You beeing gone to <i>Malfy</i>, and -your absence granting me apt opportunity, for conference with so kinde -a friend; I made the bolder, and gave him entrance into your house, yea -even 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 unable 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 have heard your discontentment for the said Water, and -confesse my fault to you therein: but who liveth so justly, without offending -at one time or other? And I am heartily sorry for my transgression; -yet not so much for the water, as the hard fortune that hath followd thereon; -because thereby <i>Ruggiero</i> is in danger to lose his life, and all my hopes -are utterly 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 devise.</p> - -<p>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 have paide thee with deserved -repentance, upon thy Mistresses finding thee sleeping. But go and -get his deliverance if thou canst, with this caution, that if ever heereafter -he be seene in my house, the peril thereof shall light on thy selfe. Receyving -this answer, for her first entrance into the attempt, and as her Mistris -had advised her, in all hast shee went to the prison, where shee prevailed -so well with the Jaylor, that hee granted her private conference -with <i>Ruggiero</i>. She having instructed him what he should say to the Provost, -if he had any purpose to escape with life; went thither before him to -the Provost, 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.</p> - -<p>Sir (quoth shee) you have apprehended <i>Ruggiero de Jeroly</i>, as a theefe, -and judgement 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 every circumstance, from the -originall to the end: relating truly, that being her Lover, 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 Joyner, and him that laide claime to -the Chest, giving him to understand thereby, how <i>Ruggiero</i> was taken in -the Lombards house.</p> - -<p>The Provost presently gathering, that the truth in this case was easy to -be knowne; sent first for Master Doctor <i>Mazzeo</i>, to know, whether hee -compounded any such water, or no: which he affirmed to bee true, and -upon what occasion he prepared it. Then the Joyner, the owner of the -Chest, and the two Lombards, being severally questioned withall: it appeared -evidently, that the Lombards did steale the chest in the night season, -and carried it home to their owne house. In the end, <i>Ruggiero</i> 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 <i>Mazzeo -della Montagna</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>When the Provost had heard all their answers, which he caused them -to repeate over divers times, in regard they were very pleasing to him: he -cleared <i>Ruggiero</i> from the crime imposed on him, and condemned the -Lombards in three hundred Ducates, to bee given to <i>Ruggiero</i> 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 -<i>Ruggiero</i>; that, after his marriage, which was graced with great and -honourable pompe, he regained the intimate love of all his kindred, and -lived in most Noble condition, even as if he had never beene the disordered -man.</p> - -<p>If the former Novels had made all the Ladies sad and sighe, this last -of <i>Dioneus</i> as much delighted them, as restoring them to their former jocond -humour, and banishing Tragicall discourse for ever. The King perceyving -that the Sun was neere setting, and his government as neere ending, -with many kinde and courteous speeches, excused himselfe to the -Ladies, for being the motive of such an argument, as expressed the infelicity -of poore Lovers. And having finished his excuse, up 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 proved to be the gracious -Lady <i>Fiammetta</i>, 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 sorrow which they have this day endured.</p> - -<p>Madame <i>Fiammetta</i>, whose lockes of haire were curled, long, and like -golden wiers, hanging somewhat downe over her white & delicate shoulders, -her visage round, wherein the Damaske Rose and Lilly contended -for priority, the eyes in her head, resembling those of the Faulcon messenger, -and a dainty mouth; her lippes looking like two little Rubyes -with a commendable smile thus she replyed.</p> - -<p><i>Philostratus</i>, gladly I do accept your gift; and to the end that ye may -the better remember your selfe, concerning what you have done hitherto: -I will and commaund, that generall preparation bee made against to -morrow, for faire and happy fortunes hapning to Lovers, after former -cruell and unkinde accidents. Which proposition was very pleasing to -them all.</p> - -<p>Then calling for the Master of the Housholde, and taking order with -him, what was most needfull to be done; shee gave leave unto the whole -company (who were all risen) to go recreate themselves until supper time. -Some of them walked about the Garden, the beauty whereof banished -the least thought of wearinesse. Others walked by the River to the Mill, -which was not farre off, and the rest fell to exercises, fitting their own fancies, -untill they heard the summons for Supper. Hard by the goodly -Fountaine (according to their wonted manner) they supped altogether, -and were served to their no mean contentment: but being risen from the -Table, they fell to their delight of singing and dancing. While <i>Philomena</i> -led the dance, the Queene spake in this manner.</p> - -<p><i>Philostratus</i>, I intend not to varie from those courses heeretofore observed -by my predecessors, but even as they have already done, so it is my -authority, to command a Song. And because I am well assured, that you -are not unfurnished of Songs answerable to the quality of the passed Novels: -my desire is, in regard we would not be troubled heereafter, with -any more discourses of unfortunate Love, that you shall sing a Song agreeing -with your owne disposition. <i>Philostratus</i> made answer, that he -was readie to accomplish her command, and without all further ceremony, -thus he began.</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>The Song</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Chorus. <i>My teares do plainly prove,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>How justly that poore heart hath cause to greeve,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Which (under trust) findes Treason in his love.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>When first I saw her, that now makes me sigh,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Distrust did never enter in my thoughts.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>So many vertues clearly shin'd in her,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>That I esteem'd all martyrdome was light</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Which Love could lay on me. Nor did I greeve,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Although I found my liberty was lost.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>But now mine error I do plainly see:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Not without sorrow, thus betray'd to bee.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i5"><i>My teares do, &c.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>For, being left by basest treachery</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Of her in whom I most reposed trust:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>I then could see apparant flatterie</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>In all the fairest shewes that she did make.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>But when I strove to get forth of the snare,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>I found myselfe the further plunged in.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>For I beheld another in my place,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And I cast off, with manifest disgrace.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i5"><i>My teares do, &c.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Then felt my heart such hels of heavy woes,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Not utterable. I curst the day and houre</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>When first I saw her lovely countenance,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Enricht with beautie, farre beyond all other,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Which set my soule on fire, enflamde each part,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Making a martyrdome of my poore hart.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>My faith and hope being basely thus betrayde;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>I durst not moove, to speake I was affrayde.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i5"><i>My teares do, &c.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Thou canst (thou powerfull God of Love) perceive,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>My ceasselesse sorrow, voide of any comfort,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>I make my moane to thee, and do not fable,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Desiring, that to end my misery,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Death may come speedily, and with his Dart</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>With one fierce stroke, quite passing through my hart:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>To cut off future fell contending strife,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>An happy end be made of Love and Life.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i5"><i>My teares do, &c.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>No other meanes of comfort doth remaine,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>To ease me of such sharpe afflictions,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>But only death. Grant then that I may die,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>To finish greefe and life in one blest houre.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>For, being bereft of any future joyes,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Come, take me quickly from so false a friend.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Yet in my death, let thy great power approve,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>That I died true, and constant in my Love.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i5"><i>My teares, &c.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Happy shall I account this sighing Song,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>If some (beside my selfe) doe learne to sing it,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And so consider of my miseries,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>As may incite them to lament my wrongs.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And to be warned by my wretched fate;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Least (like my selfe) themselves do sigh too late.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Learne Lovers learne, what tis to be unjust,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And be betrayed where you repose best trust.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Finis<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>The words contained in this Song, did manifestly declare, what torturing -afflictions poore <i>Philostratus</i> felt, and more (perhaps) had beene -perceived 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 up into her face. But the Song being ended, & -divers other beside, lasting till the houre of rest drew on; by command of -the Queene, they all repaired to their Chambers.</p> - - -<h4><i>The End of the Fourth Day.</i></h4> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="THE_FIFT_DAY" id="THE_FIFT_DAY">THE FIFT DAY.</a></h2> - - -<h4><i>Whereon, all the Discourses do passe under the Governement -of the most Noble Lady</i> Fiammetta: <i>Concerning -such persons, as have bene successefull in their Love, after many hard and -perillous misfortunes.</i></h4> - - -<h4>The Induction.</h4> - - -<p>Now began the Sunne to dart foorth his golden -beames, when Madam <i>Fiammetta</i> (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, until the Sunne were risen -a little higher. On many pleasant matters they -conferred together, as they walked in severall companies, till at the length -the Queene, finding the heate to enlarge it selfe strongly, returned backe -to the Castle; where when they were all arrived, shee commanded, that -after this mornings walking, their stomackes should bee refreshed with -wholsome Wines, as also divers sorts of banquetting stuffe. Afterward, -they all repaired into the Garden, not departing thence, untill the houre -of dinner was come: at which time, the Master of the houshold, having -prepared every thing in decent readinesse, after a solemn song was sung, -by order from the Queene, they were seated at the Table.</p> - -<p>When they had dined, to their owne liking and contentment, they began -(in continuation of their former order) to exercise divers dances, and -afterward voyces to their instruments, with many pretty Madrigals and -Roundelayes. Uppon the finishing of these delights, the Queene gave -them leave to take their rest, when such as were so minded, went to sleep, -others solaced themselves in the Garden. But after midday was overpast, -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 upon <i>Pamphilus</i>, shee bad him begin the dayes -discourses, of happy successe in love, after disastrous and troublesome accidents; -who yeelding thereto with humble reverence, thus began.</p> - -<p>Many Novels (gracious Ladies) do offer themselves 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 above 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 Love are, deserving to bee both admired and reverenced. Albeit -there are many, who scarsely knowing what they say, do condemne them -with infinite grosse imputations: which I purpose to disprove, & (I hope) -to your no little pleasing.</p> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Chynon_by_falling_in_love_became_wise_and_by_force_of_Armes_winning_his" id="Chynon_by_falling_in_love_became_wise_and_by_force_of_Armes_winning_his">Chynon, <i>by falling in love, became wise, and by force of Armes, winning his -faire Lady</i> Iphigenia <i>on the Seas, was afterward imprisoned at</i> Rhodes. <i>Being -delivered by one named</i> Lysimachus, <i>with him he recovered his</i> Iphigenia -<i>againe, and faire</i> Cassandra, <i>even in the middest of their mariage. They -fled with them into</i> Candye, <i>where after they had married them, they were -called home to their owne dwelling.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The first Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is approved, that Love (oftentimes) maketh a man both wise and valiant.</i></h4> - - -<p>According to the ancient Annales of the <i>Cypriots</i>, there sometime lived -in <i>Cyprus</i>, a Noble Gentleman, who was commonly called <i>Aristippus</i>, -and exceeded all other of the Countrey in the goods of Fortune. -Divers children he had, but (amongst the rest) a Sonne, in whose birth he -was more infortunate then any of the rest; and continually greeved, in regard, -that having 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 judgement; being (indeed) -a meere Ideot or Foole, and no better hope to be expected of him. -His true name, according as he receyved it by Baptisme, was <i>Galesus</i>, but -because neyther by the labourious paines of his Tutors, indulgence, and -faire endeavour of his parents, or ingenuity of any other, he could bee -brought to civility of life, understanding of Letters, or common carriage -of a reasonable creature: by his grosse and deformed kinde of speech, his -qualities also savouring rather of brutish breeding, then any way derived -from manly education; as an epithite of scorne and derision, generally, -they gave him the name of <i>Chynon</i>, which in their native Countrey language, -and divers other beside, signifieth a very Sot or Foole, and so was -he termed by every one.</p> - -<p>This lost kinde of life in him, was no meane burthen of greefe unto his -Noble Father, and all hope being already spent, of any future happy recovery, -he gave command (because he would not alwayes have such a sorrow -in his sight) that he should live at a Farme of his owne in a Country -Village, among his Peazants and Plough-Swaines. Which was not any -way distastefull to <i>Chynon</i>, but well agreed with his owne naturall disposition; -for their rurall qualities, and grosse behaviour pleased him beyond -the Cities civility. <i>Chynon</i> living thus at his Fathers Countrey Village, -exercising nothing else but rurall demeanour, such as then delighted him -above all other: it chanced upon a day about the houre of noone, as hee -was walking over the fields, with a long Staffe on his necke, which commonly -he used 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 leaves fairely shot forth.</p> - -<p>When he had walked thorow the thicket, it came to passe, that (even -as if good Fortune guided him) he came into a faire Meadow, on everie -side engirt with Trees, and in one corner thereof stoode a goodly Fountaine, -whose current was both coole and cleare. Harde by it, uppon 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 unto her, of interwoven delicate silke, and at her feete lay two other -Damosels sleeping, and a servant in the same manner. No sooner hadde -<i>Chynon</i> fixed his eie upon her, but he stood leaning uppon his staffe, and -viewed her very advisedly, without speaking a word, and in no mean admiration, -as if he had never seene the forme of a woman before. He began -then to feele in his harsh rurall understanding (where into never till now, -either by painfull instruction, or all other good meanes used to him, any -honest civility 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 ever any living man beheld.</p> - -<p>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 (above all) her brests, appearing (as yet) but onely to shewe -themselves, like two little mountainets. So that, of a fielden clownish lout, -he would needs now become a judge of beauty, coveting earnestly in his -soule, to see her eyes, which were veiled over 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 judgement, she excelled -all the women that ever 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 conceive of divine and celestiall -things, and that they were more to be admired & reverenced, then those -of humane or terrene consideration; wherefore the more gladly he contented -himselfe, to tarry till she awaked of her owne accord. And althogh -the time of stay seemed tedious to him, yet notwithstanding, he was overcome -with such extraordinary contentment, as hee had no power to depart -thence, but stood as if he had bin glued fast to the ground.</p> - -<p>After some indifferent respite of time, it chanced that the young Damosel -(who was named <i>Iphigenia</i>) awaked before any of the other with -her, and lifting up her head, with her eyes wide open, shee saw <i>Chynon</i> -standing before her, leaning still on his staffe; whereat mervailing not a -little, she saide unto him: <i>Chynon</i>, whither wanderest thou, or what dost -thou seeke for in this wood? <i>Chynon</i>, 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 <i>Iphigenia</i>: but so soone as he beheld her eies open, -he began to observe them with a constant regard, as being perswaded in -his soule, that from them flowed such an unutterable singularity, as he had -never felt till 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 servant, and they all being risen, she saide. -Farewell <i>Chynon</i>, I leave 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 incivility from -him: yet could she not devise any way to be rid of him, till he had brought -her to her owne dwelling, where taking leave mannerly of her, hee went -directly home to his Fathers house, saying; Nothing should compel him -to live any longer in the muddy Countrey. And albeit his Father was -much offended heereat, and all the rest of his kindred and friends: (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.</p> - -<p><i>Chynon</i> being now wounded to the heart (where never any civil instruction -could before get entrance) with loves piercing dart, by the bright -beauty of <i>Iphigenia</i>, mooved 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 civill youths, observing also the carriage of Gentlemen, -especially such as were amorously enclined: he grew to a beginning -in short time (to the wonder of every one) not onely to understande the -first instruction of letters, but also became most skilfull, even amongest -them that were best exercised in Philosophie. And afterward, love to <i>Iphigenia</i> -being the sole occasion of this happy alteration, not only did his -harsh and clownish voyce convert 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 love, but hee became -generally knowne, to bee the most civil, wise, and worthy Gentleman, -as well for all vertues enriching the minde, as any whatsoever to -beautifie the body, that very hardly he could be equalled throughout the -whole kingdome of <i>Cyprus</i>.</p> - -<p>What shall we say then, (vertuous Ladies) concerning this <i>Chynon</i>? -Surely nothing else, but that those high and divine vertues, infused into -his gentle soule, were by envious Fortune bound and shut uppe in some -small angle of his intellect, which being shaken and set at liberty by love, -(as having a farre more potent power then Fortune, in quickning and reviving -the dull drowsie spirits); declared his mighty and soveraigne Authority, -in setting free so many faire and precious vertues unjustly detayned, -to let the worlds eye behold them truly, by manifest testimony, from -whence he can deliver those spirits subjected to his power, & guide them -(afterward) to the highest degrees of honour. And although <i>Chynon</i> by affecting -<i>Iphigenia</i>, failed in some particular things; yet notwithstanding, -his Father <i>Aristippus</i> duely considering, that love had made him a man, -whereas (before) he was no better then a beast: not only endured all patiently, -but also advised him therein, to take such courses as best liked -himselfe. Neverthelesse, <i>Chynon</i> (who refused to be called <i>Galesus</i>, which -was his naturall name indeede) remembring that <i>Iphigenia</i> tearmed him -<i>Chynon</i>, and coveting (under that title) to accomplish the issue of his honest -amorous desire: made many motions to <i>Ciphæus</i> the Father of <i>Iphigenia</i>, -that he would be pleased to let him enjoy her in marriage. But <i>Ciphæus</i> -told him, that he had already passed his promise for her, to a Gentleman -of <i>Rhodes</i>, named <i>Pasimondo</i>, which promise he religiously intended -to performe.</p> - -<p>The time being come, which was concluded on for <i>Iphigeniaes</i> marriage, -in regard that the affianced husband had sent for her: <i>Chynon</i> thus -communed with his owne thoughts. Now is the time (quoth he) to let -my divine 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 have her I will, or loose my life in the adventure. Beeing thus -resolved, he prevailed with divers young Gentlemen his friends, making -them of his faction, and secretly prepared a Shippe, furnished with all -things for a Navall fight, setting sodainly forth to sea, and hulling abroad -in those parts by which the vessell should passe, that must convey <i>Iphigenia</i> -to <i>Rhodes</i> to her husband. After many honours done to them, who were -to transport her thence unto <i>Rhodes</i>, being imbarked, they set saile uppon -their <i>Bon viaggio</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Chynon</i>, 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 <i>Iphigenia</i>, saying. Strike your -sayles, or else determine to be sunke in the Sea. The enemies to <i>Chynon</i>, -being nothing danted with his words, prepared to stand upon their own -defence; which made <i>Chynon</i>, after the former speeches delivered, 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 joyned 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 having -his sword ready drawne in his hand (incited by the vertue of unfaigned -love) layed about him on all sides very manfully. Which when the -men of <i>Rhodes</i> perceyved, calling downe their weapons, and all of them -(as it were) with one voice, yeelded themselves his prisoners: whereupon -he said.</p> - -<p>Honest Friends, neither desire of booty, or hatred to you, did occasion -my departure from <i>Cyprus</i>, thus to assaile you with drawne weapons: -but that which heereto hath most mooved me, is a matter highly importing -to me, and very easie for you to graunt, and so enjoy your present -peace. I desire to have faire <i>Iphigenia</i> from you, whom I love above all other -Ladies living, because I could not obtain her of her Father, to make -her my lawfull wife in marriage. Love is the ground of my instant Conquest, -and I must use you as my mortall enemies, if you stand uppon any -further tearmes with me, and do not deliver her as mine owne: for your -<i>Pasimondo</i>, must not enjoy what is my right, first by vertue of my love, & -now by conquest: Deliver her therefore, and depart hence at your pleasure.</p> - -<p>The men of <i>Rhodes</i>, being rather constrained thereto, then of any free -disposition in themselves; with teares in their eyes, delivered <i>Iphigenia</i> to -<i>Chynon</i>; who beholding her in like manner to weepe, thus spake unto her. -Noble Lady, do not any way discomfort your selfe, for I am your <i>Chynon</i>, -who have more right and true title to you, and much better doe deserve -to enjoy you, by my long continued affection to you, then <i>Pasimondo</i> -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 -gave her kinde welcome, without touching any thing else belonging -to the Rhodians, he gave them free liberty to depart.</p> - -<p><i>Chynon</i> being more joyfull, 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 <i>Iphigenia</i>, who as yet sate sadly sighing; he consulted -with his companions, who joyned with him in opinion, that their -safest course was, by no meanes to returne to <i>Cyprus</i>; and therefore all -(with one consent) resolved to set saile for <i>Candye</i>, where every one made -account, but especially <i>Chynon</i>, 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 <i>Iphigenia</i>. But Fortune, who -was so favourable to <i>Chynon</i>, in granting him so pleasing a Conquest, to -shew her inconstancy, as sodainly changed the inestimable joy of our jocond -Lover, into as heavy sorrow and disaster. For, foure houres were -not fully compleated, since his departure from the Rhodians, but darke -night came upon them, and he sitting conversing 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 unexpected distresse, nor how -to warrant themselves from perishing.</p> - -<p>If this accident were displeasing to poore <i>Chynon</i>, 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 love and life together. His friends likewise, felte -the selfesame affliction, but especially <i>Iphigenia</i>, who wept and greeved -beyond all measure, to see the ship beaten, with such stormy billowes, as -threatned her sinking every minute. Impatiently she cursed the love of -<i>Chynon</i>, greatly blaming his desperate boldnesse, and maintaining, that so -violent a tempest could never happen, but onely by the Gods displeasure, -who would not permit him to have a wife against their will; and therefore -thus punished his proud presumption, not only in his unavoidable death, -but also that her life must perish for company.</p> - -<p>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 every moment they expected wracking: they were carried -(contrary to their owne knowledge) very neere unto the Isle of <i>Rhodes</i>, -which they being no way able to avoid, and utterly ignorant of the coast; -for safety of their lives, they laboured to land there if possibly they might. -Wherein Fortune was somewhat furtherous to them, driving them into -a small gulfe of the Sea, whereinto (but a little while before) the Rhodians, -from whom <i>Chynon</i> 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 heavens to looke more clearly) gave them discoverie, -of being within a flight shoote together. <i>Chynon</i> looking forth, and espying -the same ship which he had left the day before, hee grew exceeding -sorrowfull, as fearing that which after followed, and therefore hee willed -the Mariners, to get away from her by all their best endeavour, & let fortune -afterward dispose of them as she pleased; for into a worse place they -could not come, nor fall into the like danger.</p> - -<p>The Mariners employed their very utmost paines, and all prooved but -losse of time: for the winde was so stern, and the waves so turbulent, that -still they drove them the contrary way: so that striving to get foorth of -the gulfe, whether they would or no, they were driven on land, and instantly -knowne to the Rhodians, whereof they were not a little joyful. The -men of <i>Rhodes</i> being landed, ran presently to a neere neighbouring Village, -where dwelt divers worthy Gentlemen, to whom they reported the -arrivall of <i>Chynon</i>, what fortune befell them at Sea, and that <i>Iphigenia</i> -might now be recovered againe, with chastisement to <i>Chynon</i> for his bold -insolence. They being very joyfull of these good newes, tooke so many -men as they could of the same Village, and ran immediately to the Sea -side, where <i>Chynon</i> being newly Landed and his people, intending flight -into a neere adjoining Forrest, for defence of himselfe and <i>Iphigenia</i>, they -were all taken, led thence to the Village, and afterwards to the chiefe City -of <i>Rhodes</i>.</p> - -<p>No sooner were they arrived, but <i>Pasimondo</i>, the intended Husband -for <i>Iphigenia</i> (who had already heard the tydings) went and complayned -to the Senate, who appointed a Gentleman of <i>Rhodes</i>, named <i>Lysimachus</i>, -and being that yeare soveraigne Magistrate over the Rhodians, to go well -provided for the apprehension of <i>Chinon</i> and all his company, committing -them to prison, which accordingly was done. In this manner, the -poore unfortunate lover <i>Chynon</i>, lost his faire <i>Iphigenia</i>, having won her -in so short a while before, and scarsely requited with so much as a kisse. -But as for <i>Iphigenia</i>, she was royally welcommed by many Lords and Ladies -of <i>Rhodes</i>, 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, untill the day determined for her mariage.</p> - -<p>At the earnest entreaty of divers Rhodian Gentlemen, who were in -the Ship with <i>Iphigenia</i>, and had their lives courteously saved by <i>Chynon</i>: -both he and his friends had their lives likewise spared, although <i>Pasimondo</i> -laboured importunately, to have them all put to death; onely they -were condemned to perpetuall imprisonment, which (you must thinke) -was most greevous to them, as being now hopelesse of any deliverance. -But in the meane time, while <i>Pasimondo</i> was ordering his nuptiall preparation, -Fortune seeming to repent the wrongs shee had done to <i>Chynon</i>, -prepared a new accident, whereby to comfort him in this deep distresse, -and in such manner as I will relate unto you.</p> - -<p><i>Pasimondo</i> had a Brother, yonger then he in yeares, but not a jot inferiour -to him in vertue, whose name was <i>Hormisda</i>, and long time the case -had bene in question, for his taking to wife a faire yong Gentlewoman of -<i>Rhodes</i>, called <i>Cassandra</i>; whom <i>Lysimachus</i> the Governour loved verie -dearly, and hindred her marriage with <i>Hormisda</i>, by divers strange accidents. -Now <i>Pasimondo</i> perceiving, that his owne Nuptials required much -cost and solemnity, hee thought it very convenient, that one day might -serve for both the Weddinges, which else would lanch into more lavish -expences, and therefore concluded, that his brother <i>Hormisda</i> should -marry <i>Cassandra</i>, at the same time as he wedded <i>Iphigenia</i>. 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.</p> - -<p>When this came to the hearing of <i>Lysimachus</i>, it was very greatly displeasing -to him, because now he saw himselfe utterly deprived of al hope -to attaine the issue of his desire, if <i>Hormisda</i> receyved <i>Cassandra</i> 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 giving such an unfitting example. Neverthelesse, after -long deliberation, honour gave way to love, and resolutely he concluded -to steale her away, whatsoever became of it.</p> - -<p>Nothing wanted now, but a convenient company to assist him, & the -order how to have it done. Then he remembred <i>Chynon</i> and his friends, -whom he detained as his prisoners, and perswaded himself, that he could -not have a more faithfull friend in such a business, then <i>Chynon</i> was. Hereupon, -the night following, he sent for him into his Chamber, and being -alone by themselves, thus he began. <i>Chynon</i> (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 have 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.</p> - -<p>For first of all (as I have heard) by the piercing solicitudes of love, of a -senselesse creature, they made thee to become a man endued with reason. -Afterward, by adverse 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 -enjoyedst 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 never give -thee any blessing more worthy of acceptance, then she whom 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 -ever heretofore, I will acquaint thee withall more at large.</p> - -<p>Understand then Noble <i>Chynon</i>, that <i>Pasimondo</i>, the onely glad man -of thy misfortune, and diligent sutor after thy death, maketh all hast hee -can possibly devise 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 love bee -such, as I am perswaded it is) I partly can collect from my selfe, being intended -to be wronged by his brother <i>Hormisda</i>, even in the selfsame manner, -and on his marriage day, by taking faire <i>Cassandra</i> from me, the onely -Jewell of my love and life. For the prevention of two such notorious -injuries, I see that Fortune hath left us no other meanes, but only the vertue -of our courages, and the helpe of our right hands, by preparing our -selves to Armes, opening a way to thee, by a second rape or stealth; and -to me the first, for absolute possession of our divine Mistresses. Wherefore, -if thou art desirous to recover thy losse, I will not onely pronounce -liberty to thee (which I thinke thou dost little care for without her) but -dare also assure thee to enjoy <i>Iphigenia</i>, so thou wilt assist mee in mine enterprize, -and follow me in my fortune, if the Gods do let them fall into -our power.</p> - -<p>You may well imagine, that <i>Chynons</i> dismayed soule was not a little -cheared at these speeches; and therefore, without craving any long respit -of time for answer, thus he replyed. Lord <i>Lysimachus</i>, in such a business -as this is, you cannot have a faster friend then my self, at least, if such good -hap may betide me, as you have more then halfe promised: & therefore -do no more but command what you would have to be effected by mee, -and make no doubt of my courage in the execution: whereon <i>Lysimachus</i> -made this answer. Know then <i>Chynon</i> (quoth hee) that three dayes -hence, these marriages are to bee celebrated in the houses of <i>Pasimondo</i> -and <i>Hormisda</i>, upon which day, thou, thy friends, and my self (with some -others, in whom I repose especiall trust) by the friendly favour of night, -will enter into their houses, while they are in the middest of theyr Joviall -feasting; and (seizing on the two Brides) beare them thence to a Shippe, -which I will have lye in secret, waiting for our comming, and kil all such -as shall presume to impeach us. This direction gave great contentment -to <i>Chynon</i>, who remained still in prison, without revealing a word to his -owne friends, until the limited time was come.</p> - -<p>Upon the Wedding day, performed with great and magnificent Triumph, -there was not a corner in the Brethrens houses, but it sung joy in -the highest key. <i>Lysimachus</i>, after he had ordered all things as they ought -to be, and the houre for dispatch approached neere; he made a division -in three parts, of <i>Chynon</i>, his followers, and his owne friendes, being all -well armed under their outward habites. Having first used 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 urgent necessity should require it. Passing -with the other two traines of <i>Pasimondo</i>, he left the one at the doore, that -such as were in the house might not shut them up fast, and so impeach -their passage forth. Then with <i>Chynon</i>, and the third band of Confederates, -he ascended the staires up 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, delivered them -into the hands of their followers, commanding that they should be carried -aboord the ship, for avoiding of further inconveniences.</p> - -<p>This hurrie and amazement beeing in the house, the Brides weeping, -the Ladies lamenting, and all the servants confusedly wondering; <i>Chynon</i> -and <i>Lysimachus</i> (with their Friends) having their weapons drawn in their -hands, made all opposers to give them way, and so gayned the stair head -for their owne descending. There stoode <i>Pasimondo</i>, with an huge long -Staffe in his hand, to hinder their passage downe the stayres; but <i>Chynon</i> -saluted him so soundly on the head, that it being cleft in twaine, hee -fell dead before his feete. His Brother <i>Hormisda</i> came to his rescue, and -sped in the selfe-same manner as he had done; so did divers other beside, -whom the companions to <i>Lysimachus</i> and <i>Chynon</i>, either slew out-right, -or wounded.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Candye</i>. Where beeing arrived, they -were worthily entertained by honourable Friendes and Kinsmen, who -pacified all unkindnesses betweene them and their Mistresses: And, having -accepted them in lawfull marriage, there they lived in no meane -joy and contentment: albeit there was a long and troublesome difference -(about these rapes) betweene <i>Rhodes</i> and <i>Cyprus</i>.</p> - -<p>But yet in the end, by the meanes of Noble Friends and Kindred on -either side, labouring to have such discontentment appeased, endangering -warre betweene the Kingdomes: after a limited time of banishment, -<i>Chynon</i> returned joyfully with his <i>Iphigenia</i> home to <i>Cyprus</i>, and <i>Lysimachus</i> -with his beloved <i>Cassandra</i> unto <i>Rhodes</i>, each living in their severall -Countries, with much felicity.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Faire_Constance_of_Liparis_fell_in_love_with_Martuccio_Gomito_and_hearing" id="Faire_Constance_of_Liparis_fell_in_love_with_Martuccio_Gomito_and_hearing"><i>Faire</i> Constance <i>of</i> Liparis, <i>fell in love with</i> Martuccio Gomito: <i>and hearing -that he was dead, desperately she entred into a Barke, which being transported -by the windes to</i> Susa <i>in</i> Barbary, <i>from thence she went to</i> Thunis, -<i>where she found him to be living. There she made her selfe knowne to him, -and he being in great authority, as a privy Counsellor to the King: he married -the saide</i> Constance, <i>and returned richly home with her, to the Island of</i> -Liparis.</a></h4> - -<h2>The second Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is declared the firme loyaltie of a true Lover: And how Fortune doth -sometime humble men, to raise them afterward to a farre higher degree.</i></h4> - - -<p>When the Queene perceyved, that the Novell recited by <i>Pamphilus</i> -was concluded, which she graced with especial commendations: -she commaunded Madame <i>Æmillia</i>, to take her turne as next in order; -whereupon, thus she began. Me thinkes it is a matter of equity, that every -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 scrupulous affectation, I shall the more gladly obey our Queen to -day, then yesterday I did our melancholly King.</p> - -<p>Understand then (Noble Ladies) that neere to <i>Sicily</i>, there is a small -Island, commonly called <i>Liparis</i>, wherein (not long since) lived a yong -Damosell, named <i>Constance</i>, born of very sufficient parentage in the same -Island. There dwelt also a young man, called <i>Martuccio Gomito</i>, of comely -feature, well conditioned, and not unexpert in many vertuous qualities; -affecting <i>Constance</i> in hearty manner: and she so answerable to him -in the same kinde, that to be in his company, was her onely felicity. <i>Martuccio</i> -coveting to enjoy her in marriage, made his intent knowne to her -Father: who upbraiding him with poverty, tolde him plainly that hee -should not have her. <i>Martuccio</i> greeving to see himselfe thus despised, -because he was poore: made such good meanes, that he was provided of -a small Barke; and calling such friends (as he thought fit) to his association, -made a solemne vow, that hee would never returne backe to <i>Liparis</i>, -untill he was rich, and in better condition.</p> - -<p>In the nature and course of a Rover or Pirate, so put he thence to sea, -coasting all about <i>Barbarie</i>, robbing and spoyling such as hee met with; -who were of no greater strength then himselfe: wherein Fortune was so -favourable 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 -themselves with sufficient riches: by greedy seeking to get more, -happened to be taken by certaine ships of the Sarazins, and so were robbed -themselves of all that they had gotten, yet they resisted them stoutly -a long while together, though it proved to the losse of many lives among -them. When the Sarazens had sunke his shippe in the Sea, they tooke -him with them to <i>Thunis</i>, where he was imprisoned, and lived in extreamest -misery.</p> - -<p>Newes came to <i>Liparis</i>, not onely by one, but many more beside, that -all those which departed thence in the small Barke with <i>Martuccio</i> were -drowned in the Sea, and not a man escaped. When <i>Constance</i> heard these -unwelcome tydings (who was exceeding full of greefe, for his so desperate -departure) she wept and lamented extraordinarily, desiring now rather -to dye, then live 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 privately from her Fathers house, shee went -to the port or haven, 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 resolved -with her selfe, that the Boat being uncharged, and without a guide, wold -either be over-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.</p> - -<p>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 jot, they conducted the small Boat in such -sort, that after the night of her entering into it, and the morowes sailing -untill the evening, it came within an hundred leagues of <i>Thunis</i>, and to a -strond neere a Towne called <i>Susa</i>. The young Damosell knew not whether -she were on the sea or land; as one, who not by any accident hapning, -lifted up her head to look about her, neither intended ever to doe. -Now it came to passe, that as the boate was driven to the shore, a poore -woman stood at the Sea side, washing certaine Fishermens Nets; and seeing -the boate comming towards her under 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 sorrowes having broght her now into a sound -sleepe, the woman gave many cals before she could awake her, which at -the length she did, and looked very strangely about her.</p> - -<p>The poore woman perceyving 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 arrive there in this manner? When <i>Constance</i> -heard her speake the Latine tongue, she began to doubt, least some contrary -winde had turned her backe to <i>Liparis</i> againe, and starting up sodainly, -to looke with better advice 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 <i>Susa</i> in <i>Barbarie</i>. -Which <i>Constance</i> hearing, and plainly perceyving, that death had denied -to end her miseries, fearing least she should receive some dishonour, -in such a barbarous unkinde Country, and not knowing what shold now -become of her, she sate downe by the boates side, wringing her hands, & -weeping bitterly.</p> - -<p>The good Woman did greatly compassionate her case, and prevailed -so well by gentle speeches, that shee conducted her into her owne poore -habitation; where at length she understoode, by what meanes shee hapned -thither so strangely. And perceyving 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.</p> - -<p><i>Constance</i> 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 <i>Trapanum</i>, named <i>Carapresa</i>, and am a servant -in this Countrey to certaine Christian Fishermen. The yong Maiden -(albeit she was very full of sorrow) hearing her name to be <i>Carapresa</i>, -conceived it as a good augury to her selfe, & that she had heard the name -before, although shee knew not what occasion should move her thus to -do. Now began her hopes to quicken againe, and yet shee could not tell -upon 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 (even for charities -sake) to take pitty on her youth, and help her with such good advice, -to prevent all injuries which might happen to her, in such a solitary wofull -condition.</p> - -<p><i>Carapresa</i> having heard her request, like a good woman as shee was, -left <i>Constance</i> in her poore Cottage, and went hastily to leave her nets in -safety: which being done, she returned backe againe, and covering <i>Constance</i> -with her Mantle, led her on to <i>Susa</i> with her, where being arrived, -the good woman began in this manner. <i>Constance</i>, I will bring thee to -the house of a very worthy Sarazin Lady, to whome I have done manie -honest services, 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 use -thee as if thou wert her owne daughter. Now, let it be thy part, during -thy time of remaining with her, to employ thy utmost diligence in pleasing -her, by deserving and gaining her grace, till heaven shall blesse thee -with better fortune: And as she promised, so she performed.</p> - -<p>The Sarazine Lady, being well stept into yeares, upon the commendable -speeches delivered by <i>Carapresa</i>, did the more seriously fasten her -eye on <i>Constance</i>, and compassion provoking her to teares, she tooke her -by the hand, and (in loving manner) kissed her fore-head. So she led her -further into her house, where dwelt divers other women (but not one -man) all exercising themselves in severall labours, as working in all sorts -of silke, with Imbroideries of Gold and Silver, and sundry other excellent -Arts beside, which in short time were verie familiar to <i>Constance</i>, and so -pleasing grew her behaviour to the old Lady, and all the rest beside; that -they loved 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.</p> - -<p><i>Constance</i> continuing thus in the old Ladies service at <i>Susa</i>, & thought -to be dead or lost in her owne Fathers house; it fortuned, that one reigning -then as King of <i>Thunis</i>, who named himselfe <i>Mariabdela</i>: there was -a young Lord of great birth, and very powerfull, who lived as then in -<i>Granada</i>, and pleaded that the Kingdome of <i>Thunis</i> 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 -<i>Martuccio Gomito</i>, who spake the Barbarian Language perfectly; and hearing -it reported, that the King of <i>Thunis</i> 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 -have 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 -honour of the field. The Guard reported these speeches to his master, who -presently acquainted the King therewith, and <i>Martuccio</i> being sent for; -he was commanded to speake his minde: Whereupon he began in this -manner.</p> - -<p>My gracious Lord, during the time that I have frequented your countrey, -I have heedfully observed, that the Militarie Discipline used in your -fights and battailes, dependeth more upon 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 give great hope of successefull prevailing. -Sir, said <i>Martuccio</i>, if you please it may bee done, and I can quickly -resolve you how. Let the strings of your Archers Bowes bee made more -soft and gentle, then those which heretofore they have formerly used; and -next, let the nockes of the Arrowes be so provided, as not to receive any -other, then those pliant gentle strings. But this must be done so secretly, -that your enemies may have no knowledge thereof, least they should provide -themselves in the same manner. Now the reason (Gracious Lord) -why thus I counsell you, is to this end. When the Archers on the Enemies -side have shot their Arrowes at your men, and yours in the like manner -at them: it followeth, that (upon meere constraint) they must gather -up your Arrowes, to shoote them backe againe at you, for so long while -as the battell endureth, as no doubt but your men will do the like to them. -But your enemies will finde themselves much deceived, because they can -make no use of your peoples Arrowes, in regard that the nockes are too -narrow to receive 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 have free use of both, reserving them in plentifull store, when your -adversaries must stand unfurnished of any, but them that they cannot any -way use.</p> - -<p>This counsell pleased the King very highly, and hee being a Prince of -great understanding, gave order to have it accordingly followed, and -thereby valiantly vanquished his enemies. Heereupon, <i>Martuccio</i> 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 honour of the man by whome they hapned: even so the -fame of this rare got victory, was quickly noysed throughout the Countrey, -and came to the hearing of poore <i>Constance</i>, that <i>Martuccio Gomito</i> -(whom she supposed so long since to be dead) was living, and in honourable -condition. The love which formerly she bare unto 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) revived againe in chearfull manner.</p> - -<p>Having 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 <i>Thunis</i>, -to satisfie her eyes as well as her eares, concerning the rumor blazed -abroad. The good olde Lady commended her desire, and (even as if she -had bene her mother) tooke her with her aboord a Barke, and so sayled -thence to <i>Thunis</i>, where both she and <i>Constance</i> found honourable welcome, -in the house of a kinsman to the Sarazin Lady. <i>Carapresa</i> also went -along with them thither, and her they sent abroad into the Citie, to understand -the newes of <i>Martuccio Gomito</i>. After they knew for a certaintie -that hee was living, and in great authority about the King, according as -the former report went of him. Then the good old Lady, being desirous -to let <i>Martuccio</i> know, that his faire friend <i>Constance</i> was come thither to -see him; went her selfe to the place of his abiding, and spake unto him in -this manner. Noble <i>Martuccio</i>, there is a servant of thine in my house, -which came from <i>Liparis</i>, and requireth to have a little private 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. <i>Martuccio</i> -gave her kinde and hearty thankes, and then went along with her to the -house.</p> - -<p>No sooner did <i>Constance</i> behold him, but shee was ready to dye with -conceite of joy, and being unable 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 utter -one word) the teares trickled abundantly downe her cheekes. <i>Martuccio</i> -also seeing his faire friend, was overcome with exceeding admiration, & -stood awhile, as not knowing what to say; till venting forth a vehement -sighe, thus he spake. My deerest love <i>Constance</i>! art thou yet living? It is -a tedious long while since I heard thou wast lost, and never any tydinges -knowne of thee in thine owne Fathers house. With which wordes, the -teares standing his eyes, most lovingly he embraced her. <i>Constance</i> recounted -to him all her fortunes, and what kindnesse she hadde receyved -from the Sarazine Lady, since her first houre of comming to her. And -after much other discourse passing betweene them, <i>Martuccio</i> departed -from her, and returning to the King his master, tolde him all the historie -of his fortunes, and those beside of his Love <i>Constance</i>, beeing purposely -minded (with his gracious liking) to marry her according to the Christian -Law.</p> - -<p>The King was much amazed at so many strange accidents, and sending -for <i>Constance</i> to come before him; from her own mouth he heard the -whole relation of her continued affection to <i>Martuccio</i>, whereuppon hee -saide. Now trust me faire Damosell, thou hast dearly deserved him to be -thy husband. Then sending for very costly Jewels, and rich presents, the -one halfe of them he gave to her, and the other to <i>Martuccio</i>, graunting -them license withall, to marry according to their owne mindes.</p> - -<p><i>Martuccio</i> did many honours, and gave great giftes to the aged Sarazine -Lady, with whom <i>Constance</i> had lived so kindly respected: which although -she had no neede of, neither ever expected any such rewarding; -yet (conquered by their urgent importunity, especially <i>Constance</i>, who -could not be thankfull enough to her) she was enforced to receive them, -and taking her leave of them weeping, sayled backe againe to <i>Susa</i>.</p> - -<p>Within a short while after, the King licensing their departure thence, -they entred into a small Barke, and <i>Carapresa</i> with them, sailing on with -prosperous gales of winde, untill they arrived at <i>Liparis</i>, where they were -entertained with generall rejoycing. And because their marriage was -not sufficiently performed at <i>Thunis</i>, in regard of divers Christian ceremonies -there wanting, their Nuptials were againe most honourably solemnized, -and they lived (many yeares after) in health and much happinesse.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Pedro_Bocamazzo_escaping_away_with_a_yong_Damosell_which_he_loved_named" id="Pedro_Bocamazzo_escaping_away_with_a_yong_Damosell_which_he_loved_named">Pedro Bocamazzo, <i>escaping away with a yong Damosell which he loved, named</i> -Angelina, <i>met with Theeves in his journey. The Damosell flying fearfully -into a Forrest, by chance arriveth at a Castle.</i> Pedro <i>being taken by the -Theeves, and happening afterward to escape from them; commeth (accidentally) -to the same Castle where</i> Angelina <i>was. And marrying her, they then -returned home to Rome.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The third Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein, the severall powers both of Love and Fortune, is more at large approved.</i></h4> - - -<p>There was not any one in the whole company, but much commended -the Novell reported by Madam <i>Emillia</i>, and when the Queene -perceived it was ended, she turned towards Madam <i>Eliza</i>, commanding -her to continue on their delightfull exercise: whereto shee declaring her -willing obedience, began to speak thus. Courteous Ladies, I remember -one unfortunate night, which happened to two Lovers, 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.</p> - -<p>In the Citie of <i>Rome</i>, 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 <i>Pedro Bocamazzo</i>, descended -from one of the most honourable families in <i>Rome</i>, who was much -enamoured of a beautifull Gentlewoman, called <i>Angelina</i>, daughter to -one named <i>Giglivozzo Saullo</i>, whose fortunes were none of the fairest, yet -he greatly esteemed among the Romaines. The entercourse of love between -these twaine, had so equally enstructed their hearts and souls, that -it could hardly be judged which of them was the more fervent in affection. -But he, not being inured 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 enjoy her in honourable mariage. -Which his parents and friends hearing, they went to conferre with him, -blaming him with over-much basenesse, so farre to disgrace himselfe and -his stocke. Beside, they advised the Father to the Maid, neither to credit -what <i>Pedro</i> saide in this case, or to live in hope of any such match, because -they all did wholly despise it.</p> - -<p><i>Pedro</i> perceiving, that the way was shut up, whereby (and none other) -he was to mount the Ladder of his hopes; began to waxe weary of longer -living: and if he could have won her fathers consent, he would have maried -her in the despight of all his friends. Neverthelesse, 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 understood her ready resolution, to -adventure with him thorough all fortunes whatsoever, concluding on -their sodaine and secret flight from Rome. For which <i>Pedro</i> did so well -provide, that very early in a morning, and well mounted on horsebacke, -they tooke the way leading unto <i>Alagna</i>, where <i>Pedro</i> had some honest -friends, in whom he reposed especiall trust. Riding on thus thorow the -countrey, having no leysure to accomplish their marriage, because they -stoode in feare of pursuite: they were ridden above foure leagues from -Rome, still shortning the way with their amorous discoursing.</p> - -<p>It fortuned, that <i>Pedro</i> having 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 twelve Villaines, whom <i>Angelina</i> sooner espyed, -then <i>Pedro</i> could do, which made her cry out to him, saying: Help -deere Love to save us, or else we shall be assayled. <i>Pedro</i> then turning his -horse so expeditiously as he could, and giving him the spurres as neede required; -mainly he gallopped into a neere adjoining Forrest, more minding -the following of <i>Angelina</i>, then any direction of his way, or then that -endeavoured to be his hinderance. So that by often winding & turning -about, as the passage appeared troublesome 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 resolving them therein, they -fell into a secret consultation, saying thus among themselves. This man -is a friend to our deadly enemies, how can wee then otherwise dispose of -him, but bereave him of all he hath, and in despight of the <i>Orsini</i> (men in -nature hatefull to us) hang him up heere on one of these Trees?</p> - -<p>All of them agreeing in this dismall resolution, they commanded <i>Pedro</i> -to put off his garments, which he yeelding to do (albeit unwillingly) -it so fell out, that five and twenty other theeves, came sodainly rushing in -upon them, crying, Kill, kill, and spare not a man.</p> - -<p>They which before had surprized <i>Pedro</i>, desiring nowe to shifte -for their owne safetie; left him standing quaking in his shirt, and so -ranne away mainely to defend themselves. Which the new crewe -perceyving, 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 <i>Pedro</i> perceyved, and saw none -tarrying to prey uppon him; hee put on his cloathes againe, and mounting -on his owne Horsse, gallopped that way, which <i>Angelina</i> 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.</p> - -<p>For the losse of his beloved <i>Angelina</i>, 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 travailed still, not knowing -where to make his arrivall. And having formerly heard of savage -ravenous beasts, which commonly live in such unfrequented Forrests: he -not onely was in feare of loosing his owne life, but also despayred much -for his <i>Angelina</i>, least some Lyon or Woolfe, had torne her body in peeces.</p> - -<p>Thus rode on poore unfortunate <i>Pedro</i>, untill 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, untill 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 uppon him, hee was not able to hold out any -longer.</p> - -<p>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 unto a -great tree, uppe he climbed into the same Tree, fearing to bee devoured -(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 cleare: yet durst hee not nod, or take a -nap, lest he should fall out of the tree; but sate still greeving, sighing, and -mourning, despairing of ever seeing his <i>Angelina</i> 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.</p> - -<p>Now, concerning poore affrighted <i>Angelina</i>, who (as you heard before) -knew not any place of refuge to flye unto: but even as it pleased hir -horse to carry her: she entred so farre into the Forest, that she could not -devise where to seeke her owne safety. And therefore, even as it fared -with her friend <i>Pedro</i>, 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 greevously complaining of her hard fortune. At the length, perceyving -that <i>Pedro</i> came not to her at all, she found a little path (which shee -lighted on by great good fortune) even when dark night was apace drawing, -and followed it so long, till it brought her within the sight of a small -poore Cottage, whereto she rode on so fast as she could; and found therein -a very old man, having a wife rather more aged then he, who seeing hir -to be without company, the old man spake thus unto her.</p> - -<p>Faire daughter (quoth he) whether wander you at such an unseasonable -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 <i>Alagna</i>. Daughter (answered the old man) this is not -the way to <i>Alagna</i>, for it is above sixe leagues hence. Then shee desired -to knowe, how farre off shee was from such houses, where she might have -any reasonable lodging? There are none so neere, said the old man, that -day light will give you leave to reach. May it please you then good Father -(replied <i>Angelina</i>) seeing I cannot travaile any whether else; For -Gods sake, to let me remaine heere with you this night. Daughter answered -the good old man, wee can gladly give you entertainement here, for -this night, in such poore manner as you see: but let mee tell you withall, -that up and downe these wooddes (as well by night as day) walke companies -of all conditions, and rather enimies then friends, who doe us many -greevious displeasures and harmes. Now if by misfortune, you beeing -heere, any such people should come, and seeing you so loovely faire, as -indeed you are, offer you any shame or injurie: 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 us.</p> - -<p>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 will of -heaven, both you and I shall be defended from any misfortune: but if any -such mischance do happen, I account the matter lesse deserving grief, -if I fall into the mercy of men, then to be devoured 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 provision 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 divided from her deare <i>Pedro</i>, of whose -life and welfare she greatly despaired.</p> - -<p>When it was almost day, she heard a great noise of people travailing -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 travelling -strangers might not readily finde her there in the house. Scarsely was she -fully hidden, but a great company of Theeves 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 gave him house-roome -heere, rather then to be devoured by Wolves abroad. Then said -the principall of the Theevish crew; This horse shall be ours, in regard he -hath no other master, and let the owner come claime him of us.</p> - -<p>When they had searched every 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 Javelins and Targets, wherewith they used commonly -to travaile. It fortuned, that one of them, being more subtily suspitious -then the rest, thrust his Javeline 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 theeving exercise, -taking the Damosels horse along with them.</p> - -<p>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 us yesternight? I have 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. <i>Angelinaes</i> feares being -well over-blowne, and hearing none of the former noise, which made -her the better hope of their departure, came forth of the Hay-stack; whereof -the good old man was not a little joyfull, and because she had so well -escaped from them: so seeing it was now broad day-light, he sayde unto -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 travaile thither on foote, because the night-walkers that happened -hither, have taken away your horse with them.</p> - -<p><i>Angelina</i> making little or no account of such a losse, entreated them for -charities sake, to conduct her to that Castle, which accordingly they did, -and arrived there betweene seven and eight of the clocke. The Castle belonged -to one of the <i>Orsini</i>, being called, <i>Liello di Campo di Fiore</i>, and by -great good fortune, his wife was then there, she being a very vertuous and -religious Lady. No sooner did shee looke upon <i>Angelina</i>, but shee knew -her immediately, and entertaining her very willingly, requested, to know -the reason of her thus arriving there: which shee at large related, and moved -the Lady (who likewise knew <i>Pedro</i> perfectly well) to much compassion, -because he was a kinsman and deare friend to her Husband; and understanding -how the Theeves had surprized him, shee feared, that he was -slaine among them, whereupon shee spake thus to <i>Angelina</i>. Seeing you -know not what is become of my kinsman <i>Pedro</i>, you shall remaine here -with me, untill such time, as (if we heare no other tidings of him) you may -with safety be sent backe to <i>Rome</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Pedro</i> all this while sitting in the Tree, so full of griefe, as no man could -be more; about the houre of midnight (by the bright splendour of the -Moone) espied about some twenty Wolves, who, so soone as they got a -sight of the Horse, ran and engirt him round about. The Horse when he -perceived 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 every side, and utterly unable 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 jot of him -but the bare bones, and afterward ran ranging thorow the Forrest. At this -sight, poore <i>Pedro</i> was mightily dismayed, fearing to speed no better then -his Horse had done, and therefore could not devise 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, having -stood quaking so long in the Tree; at length by continuall looking every -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.</p> - -<p>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 arrived, 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 releeve himselfe. The Shepheards told him, that about a mile and -an halfe from thence, was the Castle of <i>Signior Liello di Campo di Fiore</i>, and -that his Lady was now residing there; which was no meane comfort to -poore <i>Pedro</i>, requesting that one of them would accompany him thither, -as two of them did in loving manner, to ridde him of all further feares.</p> - -<p>When he was arrived at the Castle, and found there divers 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 joy, for never could any man be more comforted, -then he was at the sight of his <i>Angelina</i>, and questionlesse, her joy was -not a jot inferiour to his, such a simpathy of firme love was sealed between -them. The Lady of the Castle, after shee had given them very gracious -entertainement, and understood the scope of their bold adventure; shee -reproved them both somewhat sharpely, for presuming so farre without -the consent of their Parents. But perceiving (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 offensive to me? They love each other loyally; -they are not inferiour to one another in birth, but in fortune; they are -equally loved and allied to my Husband, and their desire is both honest -and honourable. Moreover, what know I, if it be the will of Heaven to -have it so? Theeves 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 Javeline, and yet her fairer starres would not -suffer her so to perish: beside, they both have escaped the fury of ravenous -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 Heavens.</p> - -<p>Then turning her selfe to them, thus shee proceeded. If your desire be -to joyne 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 endeavour, to make peace between you and your -discontented Parents. <i>Pedro</i> was not a little joyfull at her kind offer, and -<i>Angelina</i> much more then he; so they were maried together in the Castle, -and worthily feasted by the Lady, as Forrest entertainment could permit, -and there they enjoyed the first fruits of their love. Within a short while -after, the Lady and they (well mounted on Horse-backe, and attended -with an honourable traine) returned to <i>Rome</i>; where her Lord <i>Liello</i> and -shee prevailed so wel with <i>Pedroes</i> angry Parents: that all variance ended -in love and peace, and afterward they lived lovingly together, till old age -made them as honourable, as their true and mutuall affection formerly -had done.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Ricciardo_Manardy_was_found_by_Messer_Lizio_da_Valbonna_as_he_sate_fast" id="Ricciardo_Manardy_was_found_by_Messer_Lizio_da_Valbonna_as_he_sate_fast">Ricciardo Manardy, <i>was found by</i> Messer Lizio da Valbonna, <i>as he sate fast -asleepe at his Daughters Chamber window, having his hand fast in hers, and -shee sleeping in the same manner. Whereupon, they were joyned together in -marriage, and their long loyall love mutually recompenced.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The fourth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Declaring the discreete providence of Parents, in care of their Childrens love -and their owne credit, to cut off inconveniences, before they doe proceede too -farre.</i></h4> - - -<p>Madam <i>Eliza</i> having ended her Tale, and heard what commendations -the whole company gave thereof; the Queene commanded <i>Philostratus</i>, -to tell a Novell agreeing with his owne minde, who smiling -thereat, thus replyed. Faire Ladies, I have beene so often checkt & snapt, -for my yester dayes matter and argument of discoursing, which was both -tedious and offensive to you; that if I intended to make you any amends, -I should now undertake 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 Novell, not any way offensive (as I trust) but exemplary for some -good notes of observation.</p> - -<p>Not long since, there lived in <i>Romania</i>, a Knight, a very honest Gentleman, -and well qualified, whose name was <i>Messer Lizio da Valbonna</i>, to -whom it fortuned, that (at his entrance into age) by his Lady and wife, -called <i>Jaquemina</i>, he had a Daughter, the very choycest and goodliest gentlewoman -in all those parts. Now because such a happy blessing (in their -olde yeeres) was not a little comfortable to them; they thought themselves -the more bound in duty, to be circumspect of her education, by -keeping her out of over-frequent companies, but onely such as agreed -best with their gravity, & might give the least ill example to their Daughter, -who was named <i>Catharina</i>; as making no doubt, but by this their provident -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 <i>Manardy da Brettinoro</i>, -named <i>Messer Ricciardo</i>, who oftentimes frequented the House of -<i>Messer Lizio</i>, and was a continuall welcome guest to his Table, <i>Messer -Lizio</i> and his wife making the like account of him, even as if he had beene -their owne Sonne.</p> - -<p>This young Gallant, perceiving the Maiden to be very beautifull, of -singular behaviour, 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 covertly caried, but that she perceived it, and -grew in as good liking of him. Many times he had an earnest desire to -have 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 <i>Catharina</i>, I hope thou wilt not let me -die for thy love? <i>Signior Ricciardo</i> (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 <i>Messer Ricciardo</i>, that presently he -saide. Alas deare Love, I have dedicated all my fairest fortunes onely to -thy service, so that it remaineth soly in thy power, to dispose of me as best -shall please thee, and to appoint such times of private conversation, as -may yeeld more comfort to my poore afflicted soule.</p> - -<p><i>Catherina</i> standing musing awhile, at last returned him this answere. -<i>Signior Ricciardo</i>, quoth shee, you see what a restraint is set on my liberty, -how short I am kept from conversing with any one, that I hold this our enterparlance -now almost miraculous. But if you could devise any convenient -meanes, to admit us more familiar freedome, without any prejudice -to mine honour, or the least distaste of my Parents; doe but enstruct it, -and I will adventure it. <i>Ricciardo</i> having considered on many wayes and -meanes, thought one to be the fittest of all; and therefore thus replyed. -<i>Catharina</i> (quoth he) the onely place for our more private talking together, -I conceive to be the Gallery over your Fathers Garden. If you can -winne your Mother to let you lodge there, I will make meanes to climbe -over the wall, and at the goodly gazing window, we may discourse so long -as we please. Now trust me deare Love (answered <i>Catharina</i>) no place -can be more convenient for our purpose, there shall we heare the sweete -Birds sing, especially the Nightingale, which I have 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 divers parting kisses, they brake -off conference, till their next meeting.</p> - -<p>On the day following, which was towards the ending of the moneth -of <i>May, Catharina</i> began to complaine to her Mother, that the season was -over-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 have it? Seasons are to be suffered, -according to their severall 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 <i>Catherina</i>, that cannot be; for as Summer proceedeth -on, so the heate encreaseth, and no expectation can be of temperate -weather, untill it groweth to Winter againe. Why Daughter, -saide the Mother, what wouldest thou have me to doe? Mother (quoth -shee) if it might stand with my Fathers good liking and yours, I would be -lodged in the Garden Gallery, which is a great deale more coole, -and temperate. There shall I heare the sweete Nightingale sing, as every -night shee useth to doe, and many other pretty Birds beside, which I cannot -doe, lodging in your Chamber.</p> - -<p>The Mother loving her Daughter dearely, as being some-what over-fond -of her, and very willing to give her contentment; promised to impart -her minde to her Father, not doubting but to compasse what shee requested. -When shee had moved the matter to <i>Messer Lizio</i>, 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 Oven, and there -let the Crickets make her melody. When <i>Catharina</i> heard this answere -from her Father, and saw her desire to be disappointed; not onely could -shee not 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, -have we but one onely Daughter, whom you pretend to love 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 hardly (as yet) out of her childish yeeres, and Children have many -desires farre differing from ours: the singing of Birds is rare musicke to -them, and chiefly the Nightingale; whose sweete notes will provoke them -to rest, when neither art or physicke can doe it.</p> - -<p>Is it even so Wife? answered <i>Messer Lizio</i>. Must your will and mine -be governed by our Daughter? Well be it so then, let her bed be made in -the Garden Gallerie, but I will have the keeping of the key, both to locke -her in at night, and set her at libertie every morning. Woman, woman, -young wenches are wily, many wanton crochets are busie in their braines, -and to us that are aged, they sing like Lapwings, telling us one thing, and -intending another; talking of Nightingales, when their mindes run on -Cocke-Sparrowes. Seeing Wife, shee must needes have her minde, let -yet your care and mine extend so farre, to keepe her chastity uncorrupted, -and our credulity from being abused. <i>Catharina</i> having thus prevailed -with her Mother, her bed made in the Garden Gallery, and secret intelligence -given to <i>Ricciardo</i>, for preparing his meanes of accesse to her -window; old provident <i>Lizio</i> lockes the doore to bed-ward, and gives her -liberty to come forth in the morning, for his owne lodging was neere to -the same Gallery.</p> - -<p>In the dead and silent time of night, when all (but Lovers) take their -rest; <i>Ricciardo</i> having provided a Ladder of Ropes, with grapling hookes -to take hold above and below, according as he had occasion to use it. By -helpe thereof, first he mounted over the Garden wall, and then climbde -up to the Gallery window, before which (as is every where in <i>Italie</i>) was a -little round engirting Tarras, onely for a man to stand upon, for making -cleane the window, or otherwise repairing it. Many nights (in this manner) -enjoyed they their meetings, entermixing their amorous conference -with infinite kisses and kinde embraces, as the window gave leave, he sitting -in the Tarras, and departing alwayes before breake of day, for feare -of being discovered by any.</p> - -<p>But, as excesse of delight is the Nurse to negligence, and begetteth such -an over-presuming boldnesse, as afterward proveth to be sauced with repentance: -so came it to passe with our over-fond Lovers, in being taken -tardy 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 respective of, then was requisite -in an adventure so dangerous: it fortuned, that their amorous pleasure -had so farre transported them, and dulled their sences in such sort, by -these their continued nightly watchings; that they both fell fast asleepe, -he having his hand closed in hers, and shee one arme folded about his body, -and thus they slept till broade day light. Old <i>Messer Lizio</i>, who continually -was the morning Cocke to the whole House, going foorth into -his Garden, saw how his Daughter and <i>Ricciardo</i> were seated at the window. -In he went againe, and going to his wives Chamber, saide to her. -Rise quickly wife, and you shall see, what made our Daughter so desirous -to lodge in the Garden Gallery. I perceive that shee loved 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 live Nightingale -in the darke? You shall see that your selfe, answered <i>Messer Lizio</i>, -if you will make haste, and goe with me.</p> - -<p>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 perceiving how -<i>Ricciardo</i> and <i>Catharina</i> had both deceived her, would have made an outcry, -but that <i>Messer Lizio</i> spake thus to her. Wife, as you love me, speake -not a word, neither make any noyse: for, seeing shee hath loved <i>Ricciardo</i> -without our knowledge, and they have had their private meetings in this -manner, yet free from any blamefull imputation; he shall enjoy her, and -shee him. <i>Ricciardo</i> is a Gentleman, well derived, and of rich possessions, -it can be no disparagement to us, that <i>Catharina</i> match with him in mariage, -which he neither shall, or dare denie to doe, in regard of our Lawes -severity; for climbing up to my window with his Ladder of Ropes, whereby -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 up to the Law, which surely shee will not suffer, their love -agreeing together in such mutuall manner, and he adventuring so dangerously -for her.</p> - -<p>Madam <i>Jaquemina</i>, perceiving that her husband spake very reasonably, -and was no more offended at the matter; stept aside with him behinde -the drawne Curtaines, untill they should awake of themselves. At -the last, <i>Ricciardo</i> awaked, and seeing it was so farre in the day, thought -himselfe halfe dead, and calling to <i>Catharina</i>, saide. Alas deare Love! -what shall we doe? we have slept too long, and shall be taken here. At -which words, <i>Messer Lizio</i> stept forth from behind the Curtaines, saying. -Nay, <i>Signior Ricciardo</i>, seeing you have found such an unbefitting way hither, -we will provide you a better for your backe returning. When <i>Ricciardo</i> -saw the Father and Mother both there present, he could not devise -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 <i>Messer Lizio</i>, -I humbly crave 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 unfeined love to -your Daughter <i>Catharina</i>, hath beene the onely cause of my transgressing.</p> - -<p><i>Ricciardo</i> (replyed <i>Messer Lizio</i>) the love I beare thee, and the honest -confidence I doe repose in thee, step up (in some measure) to pleade thine -excuse, especially in the regard of my Daughter, whom I blame thee not -for loving, but for this unlawfull way of presuming to her. Neverthelesse, -perceiving 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 <i>Catharina</i>, to make her thy lawfull wife in mariage, -and wipe off all scandall to my House and me. All this while was poore -<i>Catharina</i> on her knees likewise to her Mother, who (notwithstanding this -her bold adventure) made earnest suite to her Husband to remit all, because -<i>Ricciardo</i> right gladly condiscended, as it being the maine issue of -his hope and desire; to accept his <i>Catharina</i> in mariage, whereto shee was -as willing as he. <i>Messer Lizio</i> presently called for the Confessour of his -House, and borrowing one of his Wives Rings, before they went out of -the Gallery; <i>Ricciardo</i> and <i>Catharina</i> were espoused together, to their no -little joy and contentment.</p> - -<p>Now had they more leasure for further conference, with the Parents -and kindred to <i>Ricciardo</i>, 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, living long after in happy prosperity.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Guidotto_of_Cremona_departing_out_of_this_mortall_life_left_a_Daughter_of_his" id="Guidotto_of_Cremona_departing_out_of_this_mortall_life_left_a_Daughter_of_his">Guidotto <i>of Cremona, departing out of this mortall life, left a Daughter of his, -with</i> Jacomino <i>of Pavia.</i> Giovanni di Severino, <i>and</i> Menghino da -Minghole, <i>fell both in love with the young Maiden, and fought for her; who -being afterward knowne, to be the Sister to</i> Giovanni, <i>shee was given in mariage -to</i> Menghino.</a></h4> - -<h2>The fifth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein may be observed, what quarrels and contentions are occasioned by -Love; with some particular discription, concerning the sincerity of a loyall -friend.</i></h4> - - -<p>All the Ladies laughing heartily, at the Novell of the Nightingale, so -pleasingly delivered by <i>Philostratus</i>, when they saw the same to be -fully ended, the Queene thus spake. Now trust me <i>Philostratus</i>, though -yester-day you did much oppresse mee with melancholy, yet you have -made me such an amends to day, as wee have little reason to complaine -any more of you. So converting her speech to Madam <i>Neiphila</i>, shee -commanded her to succeede with her discourse, which willingly she yeelded -to, beginning in this manner. Seeing it pleased <i>Philostratus</i>, to produce -his Novell out of <i>Romania</i>: I meane to walke with him in the same -jurisdiction, concerning what I am to say.</p> - -<p>There dwelt sometime in the City of <i>Fano</i>, two Lombards, the one -being named <i>Guidotto</i> of <i>Cremona</i>, and the other <i>Jacomino</i> of <i>Pavia</i>, men -of sufficient entrance into yeeres, having followed the warres (as Souldiers) -all their youthfull time. <i>Guidotto</i> feeling sicknesse to over-master him, -and having no sonne, kinsman, or friend, in whom he might repose more -trust, then hee did in <i>Jacomino</i>: having 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 enjoyed, and then departed out of this life. It came to passe, that the -City of <i>Faenza</i>, long time being molested with tedious warres, and subjected -to very servile condition; beganne now to recover her former -strength, with free permission (for all such as pleased) to returne and possesse -their former dwellings. Whereupon, <i>Jacomino</i> (having sometime -beene an inhabitant there) was desirous to live in <i>Faenza</i> againe, convaying -thither all his goods, and taking with him also the young girle, which -<i>Guidotto</i> had left him, whom hee loved, and respected as his owne -childe.</p> - -<p>As shee grew in stature, so shee did in beauty and vertuous qualities, -as none was more commended throughout the whole City, for faire, civill, -and honest demeanour, which incited many amorously to affect her. -But (above all the rest) two very honest young men, of good fame and repute, -who were so equally in love addicted to her, that being jealous of -each others fortune, in preventing of their severall hopefull expectation; -a deadly hatred grew suddenly betweene them, the one being named, -<i>Giovanni de Severino</i>, and the other <i>Menghino da Minghole</i>. 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 give no consent -thereto: wherefore, perceiving their honest intended meaning to be frustrated, -they now began to busie their braines, how to forestall one another -by craft and circumvention.</p> - -<p><i>Jacomino</i> had a Maide-servant belonging to his House, somewhat aged, -and a Man-servant beside, named <i>Grivello</i>, of mirthfull disposition, and -very friendly, with whom <i>Giovanni</i> grew in great familiarity; and when he -found time fit for the purpose, he discovered his love to him, requesting -his furtherance and assistance, in compassing the height of his desire, with -bountifull promises of rich rewarding; whereto <i>Grivello</i> 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 never will stay to heare me. -Wherefore, if my service this way may doe you any good, I promise to -performe it; doe you beside, as you shall find it most convenient 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.</p> - -<p><i>Menghino</i>, on the other side, having entred into the Chamber-maides -acquaintance, sped so well with her, that shee delivered 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 have conference with -her, whensoever her Master should be absent from home. Thus <i>Menghino</i> -being favoured (on the one side) by the olde Chamber-maide, and <i>Giovanni</i> -(on the other) by trusty <i>Grivello</i>; their amorous warre was now on -foote, and diligently followed by both their sollicitors. Within a short -while after, by the procurement of <i>Grivello, Jacomino</i> was invited by a -neighbour to supper, in company of divers his very familiar friends, whereof -intelligence being given to <i>Giovanni</i>; a conclusion passed betweene -them, that (upon a certaine signale given) he should come, and finde the -doore standing ready open, to give him all accesse unto the affected -Mayden.</p> - -<p>The appointed night being come, and neither of these hot Lovers -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 provided, for eithers safer entrance when neede should require. -<i>Menghino</i> stayed with his troope, in a neere neighbouring house to -the Mayden, attending when the signall would be given: but <i>Giovanni</i> and -his consorts, were ambushed somewhat further off from the House, and -both saw when <i>Jacomino</i> went foorth to supper. Now <i>Grivello</i> and the -Chamber-maide began to vary, which should send the other out of the -way, till they had effected their severall intention; whereupon <i>Grivello</i> 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.</p> - -<p>But <i>Grivello</i> remembring himselfe, that the houre of his appointment -with <i>Giovanni</i> 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 revenged on her when I list. So, having made the signall, he went to -open the doore, even when <i>Giovanni</i> (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 <i>Menghino</i> 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, upon this mutinous noyse and -out-cry, the Neighbours came foorth of their Houses, with lights, staves, -and clubbes, greatly reproving them for this out-rage, yet assisting <i>Menghino</i>: -by meanes whereof, after a long time of contention, <i>Menghino</i> recovered -the Mayden from <i>Giovanni</i>, and placed her peaceably in <i>Jacominoes</i> -House.</p> - -<p>No sooner was this hurly-burly somewhat calmed, but the Serjeants -to the Captaine of the City, came thither, and apprehended divers of the -mutiners: among whom were <i>Menghino, Giovanni,</i> and <i>Grivello</i>, committing -them immediately to prison. But after every thing was pacified, and -<i>Jacomino</i> returned home to his House from supper; he was not a little offended -at so grosse an injury. When he was fully informed, how the matter -happened, and apparantly perceived, that no blame at all could be imposed -on the Mayden: he grew the better contented, resolving with himselfe -(because no more such inconveniences should happen) to have her -married so soone as possibly he could.</p> - -<p>When morning was come, the kindred and friends on either side, understanding -the truth of the error committed, and knowing beside, what -punishment would be inflicted on the prisoners, if <i>Jacomino</i> 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 unruly and youthfull people, meerely drawne into the -action by perswasion of friends; submitting both themselves, and the offendors, -to such satisfaction as he pleased to appoint them. <i>Jacomino</i>, who -had seene and observed many things in his time, and was a man of sound -understanding, returned them this answere.</p> - -<p>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 service, but even as you shall please to command -me. But plainely, and without all further ceremonious complement, I -must agree to whatsoever you can request; as thinking you to be more injured -by me, then any great wrong that I have sustained. Concerning the -young Damosell remaining in my House, shee is not (as many have imagined) -either of <i>Cremona</i>, or <i>Pavia</i>, but borne a <i>Faentine</i>, here in this Citie: -albeit neither my selfe, shee, or he of whom I had her, did ever 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 native -of your owne, doe right to her, and then you can doe no wrong unto -mee.</p> - -<p>When the Gentlemen understood, that the Mayden was borne in <i>Faenza</i>, -they marvelled thereat, and after they had thanked <i>Jacomino</i> 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 <i>Faenza</i>: -when he, perceiving them attentive to heare him, began in this -manner.</p> - -<p>Understand worthy Gentlemen, that <i>Guidotto</i> of <i>Cremona</i>, was my -companion and deare friend, who growing neere to his death, tolde me, -that when this City was surprized by the Emperour <i>Frederigo</i>, 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 utterly forsaken of the dwellers, onely this poore Mayden excepted, -being then aged but two yeeres, or thereabout. As hee mounted up the -steps, with intent to depart from the House; she called him Father, which -word moved 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 <i>Fano</i>, 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 convenient for mariage, yet -I could never find any one to bestow her on, at least that I thought fitting -for her: howbeit, I will listen thereto much more respectively, before any -other such accident shall happen.</p> - -<p>It came to passe, that in the reporting of this discourse, there was then -a Gentleman in the company, named <i>Guillemino da Medicina</i>, who at the -surprizal of the City, was present with <i>Guidotto</i> of <i>Cremona</i>, 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. <i>Bernardino</i>, hearest -thou what <i>Jacomino</i> hath related? yes very wel, replyed <i>Bernardino</i>, and remember -withall, that in that dismall bloody combustion, I lost a little -Daughter, about the age as <i>Jacomino</i> speaketh. Questionlesse then, replied -<i>Guillemino</i>, shee must needes be the same young Mayden, for I was there -at the same time, and in the House, whence <i>Guidotto</i> did bring both the -girle and goods, and I doe perfectly remember, that it was thy House. -I pray thee call to minde, if ever thou sawest any scarre or marke about -her, which may revive thy former knowledge of her, for my minde perswades -me, that the Maide is thy Daughter.</p> - -<p><i>Bernardino</i> musing a while with himselfe, remembred, that under her -left eare, 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 <i>Jacomino</i> -(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 <i>Bernardino</i> beheld her, he began to be much inwardly -moved; 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 <i>Jacomino</i> to be so -pleased, as to lift up a little the lockes of haire, depending over her left -eare. <i>Jacomino</i> did it presently, albeit with a modest blushing in the maide, -and <i>Bernardino</i> looking advisedly on it, knew it to be the selfe same crosse; -which confirmed her constantly to be his Daughter.</p> - -<p>Overcome with excesse of joy, which made the teares to trickle downe -his cheekes, he proffered to embrace and kisse the Maide: but she resisting -his kindnesse, because (as yet) shee knew no reason for it, he turned himselfe -to <i>Jacomino</i>, saying. My deare brother and friend, this Maide is my -Daughter, and my House was the same which <i>Guidotto</i> spoyled, in the generall -havocke 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, observing him also to -be a man of yeeres and gravity: shee beleeved what he saide, and humbly -submitted her selfe to his kisses & embraces, even as instructed thereto by -instinct of nature. <i>Bernardino</i> instantly sent for his wife, her owne mother, -his daughters, sonnes, and kindred, who being acquainted with this admirable -accident, gave her most gracious and kind welcome, he receiving her -from <i>Jacomino</i> as his childe, and the legacies which <i>Guidotto</i> had left her.</p> - -<p>When the Captaine of the City (being a very wise and worthy Gentleman) -heard these tydings, and knowing that <i>Giovanni</i>, then his prisoner, -was the Son to <i>Bernardino</i>, and naturall Brother to the newly recovered -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 loving league of peace was confirmed betweene -<i>Giovanni</i> and <i>Menghino</i>, to whom (with free and full consent on all sides) -the faire Maide, named <i>Agatha</i>, was given in marriage, with a more honourable -enlargement of her dowry, and <i>Grivello</i>, with the rest, delivered -out of prison, which for their tumultuous riot they had justly deserved. -<i>Menghino</i> and <i>Agatha</i> had their wedding worthily sollemnized, with all -due honours belonging thereto; and long time after they lived in <i>Faenza</i>, -highly beloved, and graciously esteemed.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Guion_di_Procida_being_found_familiarly_conversing_with_a_young_Damosell" id="Guion_di_Procida_being_found_familiarly_conversing_with_a_young_Damosell">Guion di Procida, <i>being found familiarly conversing with a young Damosell, -which he loved; and had been given (formerly) to</i> Frederigo, <i>King of Sicilie: -was bound to a stake; to be consumed with fire. From which danger (neverthelesse) -he escaped, being knowne by</i> Don Rogiero de Oria, <i>Lord Admirall -of Sicilie, and afterward married the Damosell.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The sixth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is manifested, that love can leade a man into numberlesse perils: out of -which he escapeth with no meane difficulty.</i></h4> - - -<p>The Novell of Madam <i>Neiphila</i> being ended, which proved very -pleasing to the Ladies: the Queene commanded Madam <i>Pampinea</i>, -that shee should prepare to take her turne next, whereto willingly obeying, -thus shee began. Many and mighty (Gracious Ladies) are the prevailing -powers of love, conducting amorous soules into infinite travels, -with inconveniences no way avoidable, and not easily to be foreseene, or -prevented. As partly already hath beene observed, by divers of our former -Novels 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.</p> - -<p><i>Ischia</i> is an Iland very neere to <i>Naples</i>, wherein (not long since) lived a -faire and lovely Gentlewoman, named <i>Restituta</i>, Daughter to a Gentleman -of the same Isle, whose name was <i>Marino Bolgaro</i>. A proper youth -called <i>Guion</i>, dwelling also in a neere neighbouring Isle, called <i>Procida</i>, -did love 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 -gave him leave; he resorted to <i>Ischia</i> very often in the day time, and -as often also in the night season, when any Barque passed from <i>Procida</i> to -<i>Ischia</i>; if to see nothing else, yet to behold the walles that enclosed his Mistresse -thus.</p> - -<p>While this love continued in equall fervency, it chanced upon a faire -Summers day, that <i>Restituta</i> walked alone upon the Sea-shoare, going -from Rocke to Rocke, having 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 adjoining to it, and thither (at that very instant -time) certaine Sicilian young Gentlemen, which came from <i>Naples</i>, had -made their retreate. They perceiving the Gentlewoman to be very beautifull -(shee as yet not having 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.</p> - -<p>Setting sayle thence, they arrived in <i>Calabria</i>, 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 resolved, to bestow her as a rich present, on -<i>Frederigo</i> King of <i>Sicilie</i>, who was then young & joviall, and could not be -pleased with a better gift; wherefore they were no sooner landed at <i>Palermo</i>, -but they did according as they had determined. The King did commend -her beauty extraordinarily, and liked her farre beyond all his other -Loves: but, being at that time empaired in his health, and his body much -distempered by ill dyet; he gave command, that untill 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 <i>Cube</i>, where shee was attended -in most pompeous manner.</p> - -<p>Now grew the noyse and rumor great in <i>Ischia</i>, about this rape or stealing -away of <i>Restituta</i>; but the chiefest greevance of all, was, that it could -not be knowne how, by whom, or by what meanes. But <i>Guion di Procida</i>, -whom this injury concerned much more then any other; stood not in expectation -of better tydings from <i>Ischia</i>, 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, even from <i>Minerva</i>, -unto the <i>Scalea</i> in <i>Calabria</i>, searching for his lost Love in every angle: at -length it was tolde him at the <i>Scalea</i>, that shee was carried away by certaine -<i>Sicillian</i> Marriners, to <i>Palermo</i>, whither <i>Guion</i> set sayle immediately.</p> - -<p>After some diligent search made there, he understood, that she was delivered -to the King, and he had given strict command, for keeping her in -his place of pleasure; called the <i>Cube</i>: which newes were not a little greevous -to him, for now he was almost quite out of hope, not onely of ever -enjoying her, but also of seeing her. Neverthelesse, Love would not let -him utterly despaire, whereupon he sent away his Barque, and perceiving -himselfe to be unknowne of any; he continued for some time in <i>Palermo</i>, -walking many times by that goodly place of pleasure. It chanced on a -day, that keeping his walke as he used to doe, Fortune was so favourable to -him, as to let him have a sight of her at her window; from whence also -she had a full view of him, to their exceeding comfort and contentment. -And <i>Guion</i> observing, that the <i>Cube</i> was seated in a place of small resort; -approached so neere as possibly he durst, to have some conference with -<i>Restituta</i>.</p> - -<p>As Love sets a keene edge on the dullest spirit, and (by a small advantage) -makes a man the more adventurous: so this little time of unseene -talke, inspired him with courage, and her with witty advice, by what -meanes his accesse might be much neerer to her, and their communication -concealed from any discovery, 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 convenient, -he returned thither againe, provided of such grappling-yrons, as -is required when men will clamber, made fast unto 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 given him instruction, and rearing it up against her chamber -window, made that his meanes for ascending thereto, shee having left -it open for his easier entrance.</p> - -<p>You cannot denie (faire Ladies) but here was a very hopefull beginning, -and likely to have as happy an ending, were it not true Loves fatall -misery, even in the very height of promised assurance, to be thwarted by -unkind prevention, and in such manner as I will tell you. This night, intended -for our Lovers meeting, proved disastrous and dreadfull to them -both: for the King, who at the first sight of <i>Restituta</i>, was highly pleased -with her excelling beauty; gave 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. <i>Restituta</i> -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.</p> - -<p>No sooner was poore <i>Guion</i> aloft at the window, calling softly to his -Mistresse, as if she had beene there; but he was over-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 avouching, -that <i>Restituta</i> 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 justified the goodnesse -of his cause: <i>Restituta</i> likewise was sent for, who no sooner saw her deare -Love <i>Guion</i>, but shee ran and caught him fast about the necke, kissing him -in teares, and greeving 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 having himselfe seene, by what strange -meanes he did climbe over 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.</p> - -<p>Forthwith he sentenced them both with death, commanding, that -they should be conveyed thence to <i>Palermo</i>, 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 Lovers, as the uncivill and -unsightly 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 <i>Palermo</i>, 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, even the whole City of <i>Palermo</i>, both men and women. The -men were stricken with admiration, beholding the unequalled beauty of -faire <i>Restituta</i>, & the selfe same passion possessed the women, seeing <i>Guion</i> -to be such a goodly and compleat young man: but the poore infortunate -Lovers themselves, they stood with their lookes dejected 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 lives together.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Don Rogiero de Oria</i>, a man of much admired -valour, and then the Lord high Admirall of <i>Sicily</i>, who came himselfe in -person, to the place appointed for their death. First he observed 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, advisedly -beholding poore condemned <i>Guion</i>, conceived, that he had somewhat -seene him before this instant, and upon this perswasion (even as if divine -vertue had tutured his tongue) he saide: Is not thy name <i>Guion di Procida</i>?</p> - -<p>Marke now, how quickly misery can receive comfort, upon so poore -and silly a question; for <i>Guion</i> began to elevate his dejected countenance, -and looking on the Admirall, returned him this answere. Sir, heretofore -I have 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 unkindly -crost thee? Love (answered <i>Guion</i>) and the Kings displeasure. Then -the Admirall would needs know the whole history at large, which briefly -was related to him, and having heard how all had happened; as he was -turning his Horse to ride away thence, <i>Guion</i> called to him, saying. Good -my Lord, entreate one favour for me, if possible it may be. What is that? -replyed the Admirall. You see Sir (quoth <i>Guion</i>) 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 love 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.</p> - -<p>At his departure, he commanded them that had the charge of this execution, -to proceede no further, untill they heard more from the King, to -whom hee gallopped immediately, and although hee beheld him to be -very angerly moved; yet he spared not to speake in this manner. Sir, wherein -have those poore young couple offended you, that are so shamefully -to be burnt at <i>Palermo</i>? The King told him: whereto the Admirall (pursuing -still his purpose) thus replyed. Beleeve me Sir, if true love be an offence, -then theirs may be termed to be one; and albeit it did deserve death, -yet farre be it from thee to inflict it on them: for as faults doe justly 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 over-violently transported with -anger.</p> - -<p>The young Gentleman, is the Sonne to <i>Landolfo di Procida</i>, the onely -Brother to Lord <i>John di Procida</i>, by whose meanes thou becamest Lord -and King of this Countrey. The faire young Damosell, is the Daughter -to <i>Marino Bolgaro</i>, whose power extendeth so farre, as to preserve thy prerogative -in <i>Ischia</i>, which (but for him) had long since beene out-rooted -there. Beside, these two maine motives, to challenge justly grace and favour -from thee; they are in the floure and pride of their youth, having -long continued in loyall love together, and compelled by fervency of endeared -affection, not any will to displease thy Majesty: they have offended -(if it may be termed an offence to love, and in such lovely 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?</p> - -<p>When the King had heard this, and beleeved 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 have them released from the Stake, and -honourably to be brought before him. Being thus enstructed in their severall -qualities, and standing in duty obliged, to recompence the wrong -which he had done, with respective honours: he caused them to be cloathed -in royall garments, and knowing them to be knit in unity 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 <i>Ischia</i>; where they were with much joy and comfort received, and lived -long after in great felicity.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Theodoro_falling_in_love_with_Violenta_the_Daughter_to_his_Master_named" id="Theodoro_falling_in_love_with_Violenta_the_Daughter_to_his_Master_named">Theodoro <i>falling in love with</i> Violenta, <i>the Daughter to his Master, named</i> -Amarigo, <i>and shee conceiving 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 enjoyed</i> Violenta <i>in marriage.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The seventh Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is declared, the sundry travels and perillous accidents, occasioned by -those two powerfull Commanders, Love and Fortune, the insulting Tyrants -over humaine life.</i></h4> - - -<p>Greatly were the Ladies minds perplexed, when they heard, that the -two poore Lovers were in danger to be burned: but hearing afterward -of their happy deliverance, for which they were as joyfull againe; -upon the concluding of the Novell, the Queene looked on Madam <i>Lauretta</i>, -enjoyning her to tell the next Tale, which willingly she undertooke -to doe, and thus began.</p> - -<p>Faire Ladies, at such time as the good King <i>William</i> reigned in <i>Sicily</i>, -there lived within the same Dominions a young Gentleman, named <i>Signior -Amarigo</i>, Abbot of <i>Trapani</i>, who (among his other worldly blessings, -commonly termed the goods of Fortune) was not unfurnished of children; -and therefore having neede of servants, he made his provision of -them as best he might. At that time, certaine Gallies of <i>Geneway</i> Pyrates -comming from the Easterne parts, which coasting along <i>Armenia</i>, had -taken divers 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, -<i>Theodoro</i>: who growing on in yeeres, (albeit he lived in the condition of -a servant) was educated among <i>Amarigoes</i> Children, and as enstructed rather -by nature, then accident, his conditions were very much commended, -as also the feature of his body, which proved so highly pleasing to -his Master <i>Amarigo</i>, that he made him a free man, and imagining him to -be a Turke, caused him to be baptized, and named <i>Pedro</i>, creating him superintendent -of all his affaires, and reposing his chiefest trust in him.</p> - -<p>As the other Children of <i>Signior Amarigo</i> grew in yeeres and stature, -so did a Daughter of his, named <i>Violenta</i>, a very goodly and beautifull -Damosell, somewhat over-long kept from marriage by her Fathers covetousnesse, -and casting an eye of good liking on poore <i>Pedro</i>. Now, albeit -shee loved him very dearely, and all his behaviour was most pleasing to -her, yet maiden modesty forbad her to reveale it, till Love (too long concealed) -must needes disclose itselfe. Which <i>Pedro</i> 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 observed it, and to her no meane contentment, as it appeared -no lesse (on the other side) to honest <i>Pedro</i>.</p> - -<p>While thus they loved 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, even as if shee pittied their so -long languishing, enstructed them how to find out a way, whereby they -might both better releeve themselves. <i>Signior Amarigo</i>, about some two -or three miles distance from <i>Trapani</i>, had a Countrey-House or Farme, -whereto his Wife, with her Daughter and some other women, used oftentimes -to make their resort, as it were in sportfull recreation; <i>Pedro</i> 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 over-clouded, even as they were returning home -towards <i>Trapani</i>, threatning a storme of raine to overtake them, except -they made the speedier haste.</p> - -<p><i>Pedro</i>, who was young, and likewise <i>Violenta</i>, went farre more lightly -then her Mother and her company, as much perhaps provoked by love, -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 themselves in a -poore Countrey-mans Cottage. <i>Pedro</i> and <i>Violenta</i>, having no other refuge, -ranne likewise into a poore Sheepe-coate, so over 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 coveting to avoide it so well as they could; sighes -and drie hemmes were often inter-vented, as dumbly (before) they were -wont to doe, when willingly they could affoord another kind of speaking.</p> - -<p>At last <i>Pedro</i> tooke heart, and saide: I would this shower would never -cease, that I might be alwayes where I am. The like could I wish, answered -<i>Violenta</i>, 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 Lovers soules; so that the raine ceased not, till they had taken order -for their oftner conversing, and absolute plighting of their faithes together. -By this time the storme was fairely over-blowne, and they attending -on the way, till the Mother and the rest were come, with whom they -returned to <i>Trapani</i>, where by wise and provident meanes, they often conferred -in private together, and enjoyed the benefit of their amorous desires; -yet free from any ill surmise or suspition.</p> - -<p>But, as Lovers felicities are sildome permanent, without one encountring -crosse or other: so these stolne pleasures of <i>Pedro</i> and <i>Violenta</i>, met -with as sowre a sauce in the farewell. For, shee proved to be conceived -with childe, then which could befall them no heavier affliction, and <i>Pedro</i> -fearing to loose his life therefore, determined immediate flight, and revealed -his purpose to <i>Violenta</i>. Which when she heard, she told him plainly, -that if he fled, forth-with shee would kill her selfe. Alas deare Love -(quoth <i>Pedro</i>) with what reason can you wish my tarrying here? This -conception of yours, doth discover our offence, which a Fathers pity may -easily pardon in you: but I being his servant and vassall, shall be punished -both for your sinne and mine, because he will have no mercy on me. Content -thy selfe <i>Pedro</i>, replyed <i>Violenta</i>, I will take such order for mine owne -offence, by the discreete counsell of my loving 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 <i>Pedro</i>, and constantly -maintaine your promise; I will not depart, but see that you prove to be so -good as your word.</p> - -<p><i>Violenta</i>, who had concealed her amisse so long as shee could, and saw -no other remedy, but now at last it must needes be discovered; went privately -to her Mother, and (in teares) revealed her infirmity, humbly craving -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 <i>Pedro</i> from any detection) forged a Tale of her -owne braine, farre from any truth indeede, which her Mother verily beleeving, -and willing to preserve her Daughter from shame, as also the -fierce anger of her Husband, he being a man of very implacable nature: -conveyed her to the Countrey-Farme, whither <i>Signior Amarigo</i> sildome -or never resorted, intending (under the shadow of sicknesse) to let her lie -in there, without the least suspition of any in <i>Trapani</i>.</p> - -<p>Sinne and shame can never be so closely carried, or clouded with the -greatest cunning; but truth hath a loop-light whereby to discover it, even -when it supposeth it selfe in the surest safety. For, on the very day of her -deliverance, at such time as the Mother, and some few friends (sworne to -secrecy) were about the businesse: <i>Signior Amarigo</i>, having beene in company -of other Gentlemen, to flye his Hawke at the River, upon a sudden, -(but very unfortunately, albeit he was alone by himselfe) stept into his -Farme house, even to the next roome where the women were, and heard -the new-borne Babe to cry, whereat marvelling 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 never before he had used -to doe, and pittying the wofull distresse of her Daughter, which now -could be no longer covered, revealed what happened to <i>Violenta</i>. But -he, being nothing so rash in beliefe, as his Wife was, made answere, that it -was impossible for his Daughter to be conceived with childe, because he -never observed the least signe of love in her to any man whatsoever, and -therefore he would be satisfied in the truth, as shee expected any favour -from him, for else there was no other way but death.</p> - -<p>The Mother laboured by all meanes shee could devise, to pacifie her -Husbands fury, which proved 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 delivered of a goodly Sonne) he said unto -her. Either tell me who is the Father of this Bastard, or thou and it shall -perish both together. Poore <i>Violenta</i>, lesse respecting her owne life, then -she did the childes; forgot her sollemne promise made to <i>Pedro</i>, and discovered -all. Which when <i>Amarigo</i> 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 <i>Trapani</i>, where he disclosed the injury which <i>Pedro</i> -had done him, to a noble Gentleman, named <i>Signior Conrado</i>, who -was Captaine for the King over the City.</p> - -<p>Before poore <i>Pedro</i> could have 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. <i>Signior Amarigo</i>, because he would cut off (at one -and the same time) not onely the lives of the two poore Lovers, but their -childes also; as a franticke man, violently carried from all sense of compassion, -even when <i>Pedro</i> was led and whipt to his death: he mingled strong -poyson in a Cup of wine, delivering it to a trusty servant of his owne, and -a naked Rapier withall, speaking to him in this manner. Goe carry these -two presents to my late Daughter <i>Violenta</i>, and tell her from me, that in -this instant houre, two severall kinds of death are offered unto 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 deserved. -When thou hast delivered 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.</p> - -<p>When the Father had given this cruell sentence, both against his own -Daughter, and her young Sonne, the servant, readier to doe evill, then any -good, went to the place where his Daughter was kept. Poore condemned -<i>Pedro</i>, (as you have heard) was ledde whipt to the Jybbet, 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 <i>Armenia</i>, whom the King -of the Countrey had sent to <i>Rome</i>, 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 journey, and highly honoured by the Gentlemen of <i>Trapani</i>, -especially <i>Signior Amarigo</i>; these Ambassadours standing in their -Chamber window, heard the wofull lamentations of <i>Pedro</i> in his passage -by.</p> - -<p><i>Pedro</i> was naked from the middle upward, and his hands bound fast behind -him, but being well observed by one of the Ambassadours, a man aged, -and of great authority, named <i>Phineo</i>: he espied a great red spot uppon -his breast, not painted, or procured by his punishment, but naturally -imprinted in the flesh, which women (in these parts) terme the Rose. Uppon -the sight hereof, he suddenly remembred a Sonne of his owne, which -was stolne from him about fifteene yeeres before, by Pyrates on the Sea-coast -of <i>Laiazzo</i>, never hearing any tydings of him afterward. Upon 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 living, 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.</p> - -<p>Moreover, thus he conceived, that if it were he, he could not but remember -his owne name, his Fathers, and the Armenian Language; wherefore, when -hee was just opposite before the window, hee called aloud to -him, saying: <i>Theodoro. Pedro</i> hearing the voyce, presently listed up his -head, and <i>Phineo</i> speaking <i>Armenian</i>, saide: Of whence art thou, and what -is thy Fathers name? The Sergeants (in reverence to the Lord Ambassadour) -stayed a while, till <i>Pedro</i> had returned his answer, who saide. I am -an <i>Armenian</i> borne, Sonne to one <i>Phineo</i>, and was brought hither I cannot -tell by whom. <i>Phineo</i> 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 joy: 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 unto them; which very willingly they -promised to doe.</p> - -<p>Already, by the generall rumour dispersed abroade, <i>Phineo</i> had understood -the occasion, why <i>Pedro</i> was thus punished, and sentenced to be -hanged; wherefore, accompanied with his fellow Ambassadours, and all -their attending traine, he went to <i>Signior Conrado</i>, and spake thus to him. -My Lord, he whom you have sent to death as a slave, is a free Gentleman -borne, and my Sonne, able to make her amends whom he hath dishonoured, -by taking her in mariage as his lawfull Wife. Let me therefore entreate -you, to make stay of the execution, untill 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 <i>Signior Conrado</i> heard, -that <i>Pedro</i> was Sonne to the Lord Ambassadour, he wondered thereat -not a little, and being somewhat ashamed of his fortunes error, confessed, -that the claime of <i>Phineo</i> was conformable to Law, and ought not to -be denied him; going presently to the Councell Chamber, sending for -<i>Signior Amarigo</i> immediately thither, and acquainting him fully with the -case.</p> - -<p><i>Amarigo</i>, who beleeved 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 have it done at all. He who went on this speedy -errand, found there <i>Signior Amarigoes</i> servant standing before <i>Violenta</i>, -with the Cup of poyson in his one hand, and the drawne Rapier in the -other, reproaching herewith very foule and injurious speeches, because -shee had delayed the time so long, and would not accept the one or other, -striving (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.</p> - -<p>Most highly pleased was <i>Amarigo</i> with these glad newes, and going to -the Ambassadour <i>Phineo</i>, in teares excused himselfe (so well as he could) -for his severity, and craving pardon; assured him, that if <i>Theodoro</i> would -accept his Daughter in mariage, willingly he would bestow her on him. -<i>Phineo</i> 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. <i>Amarigo</i> and <i>Phineo</i> being thus accorded, they went to poore -<i>Theodoro</i>, fearefully looking every minute when he should die, yet joyfull -that he had found his Father, who presently moved the question to him. -<i>Theodoro</i> hearing that <i>Violenta</i> should be his Wife, if he would so accept -her: was overcome with such exceeding joy, as if he had leapt out of hell -into Paradise; confessing, that no greater felicity could befall him, if <i>Violenta</i> -her selfe were so well pleased as he.</p> - -<p>The like motion was made to her, to understand her disposition in this -case, who hearing what good hap had befalne <i>Theodoro</i>, 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 above all in happinesse, if she might be wife to her beloved -<i>Theodoro</i>, submitting herselfe 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 up their sweete Son, which grew -to be a very comely childe.</p> - -<p>After that the Embassie was dispatched at <i>Rome</i>, and <i>Phineo</i> (with the -rest) was returned thither againe; <i>Violenta</i> did reverence him as her owne -naturall Father, and he was not a little proud of so lovely 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, <i>Phineo</i>, his Sonne, Daughter, and their young Son went -aboard, sayling away thence to <i>Laiazzo</i>, where afterward they lived long -in much tranquility.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Anastasio_a_Gentleman_of_the_Family_of_the_Honesti_by_loving_the_Daughter" id="Anastasio_a_Gentleman_of_the_Family_of_the_Honesti_by_loving_the_Daughter">Anastasio, <i>a Gentleman of the Family of the</i> Honesti, <i>by loving the Daughter -to</i> Signior Paulo Traversario, <i>lavishly wasted a great part of his substance, -without receiving any love from her againe. By perswasion of some of his -kindred and friends, he went to a Countrey dwelling of his, called</i> Chiasso, -<i>where he saw a Knight desperately pursue a young Damosell, whom he slew, -and afterward gave her to be devoured by his Hounds.</i> Anastasio <i>invited -his friends, and hers also whom he so dearely loved, to take part of a dinner -with him, who likewise saw the same Damosell so torne in peeces: which his -unkind Love perceiving, and fearing least the like ill fortune should happen -to her; shee accepted</i> Anastasio <i>to be her Husband.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The eighth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Declaring, that Love not onely makes a man prodigall, but also an enemy to himselfe. -Moreover, adventure oftentimes bringeth such matters to passe, as -wit and cunning in man can never comprehend.</i></h4> - -<p>So soone as Madam <i>Lauretta</i> held her peace, Madam <i>Philomena</i> (by the -Queenes command) began, and saide. Lovely Ladies, as pitty is most -highly commended in our Sexe, even so is cruelty in us as severely revenged -(oftentimes) by divine ordination. Which that you may the better -know, and learne likewise to shun, as a deadly evill; I purpose to make apparant -by a Novell, no lesse full of compassion, then delectable.</p> - -<p><i>Ravenna</i> being a very ancient City in <i>Romania</i>, there dwelt sometime a -great number of worthy Gentlemen, among whom I am to speake of one -more especially, named <i>Anastasio</i>, descended from the Family of the <i>Honesti</i>, -who by the death of his Father, and an Unkle 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 <i>Signior Paulo -Traversario</i>, one of the most ancient and noble Families in all the Countrey. -Nor made he any doubt, but by his meanes and industrious endeavour, -to derive affection from her againe; for hee carried himselfe like a -brave 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, howsoever Fortune became -his enemy, these laudable parts of manhood did not any way friend him, -but rather appeared hurtfull to him: so cruell, unkind, and almost meerely -savage 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.</p> - -<p>The harsh and uncivill usage in her, grew very distastefull to <i>Anastasio</i>, -and so unsufferable, that after a long time of fruitlesse service, 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; & governed -by more manly consideration, determined, that as she hated him, -he would requite her with the like, if he could: wherein he became altogether -deceived, because as his hopes grew to a dayly decaying, yet his -love enlarged it selfe more and more.</p> - -<p>Thus <i>Anastasio</i> persevering still in his bootelesse affection, and his expences -not limited within any compasse; it appeared in the judgement 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 advised -him to leave the City of <i>Ravenna</i>, and live in some other place for such -a while; as might set a more moderate stint upon his spendings, and bridle -the indiscreete course of his love, the onely fuell which fed this furious -fire.</p> - -<p><i>Anastasio</i> 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 were -to set thence for <i>France</i> or <i>Spaine</i>, or else into some further distant countrey: -he mounted on horsebacke, and accompanied with some few of his -familiar friends, departed from <i>Ravenna</i>, and rode to a country dwelling -house of his owne, about three or foure miles distant from the Cittie, -which was called <i>Chiasso</i>, and there (upon a very goodly greene) erecting -divers Tents and Pavillions, such as great persons make use 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 unto -<i>Ravenna</i>, and might come to visite him againe so often as they pleased.</p> - -<p>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 ever he had done before, inviting divers to dine with -him this day, and as many to morrow, and not to leave him till after supper: -upon the sodaine, falling into remembrance of his cruell Mistris, hee -commanded all his servants to forbeare his company, and suffer him to -walke alone by himselfe awhile, because he had occasion of private 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, having -gone some halfe miles distance from his Tents, entred into a Grove -of Pine-trees, never minding dinner time, or any thing else, but only the -unkind requitall of his love.</p> - -<p>Sodainly he heard the voice of a woman, seeming to make most mournfull -complaints, which breaking of his silent considerations, made him to -lift up his head, to know the reason of this noise. When he saw himselfe so -farre entred into the Grove, 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 upward, her haire dishevelled -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, giving -her very vile and dreadfull speeches, and threatning everie minute to -kill her.</p> - -<p>This strange and uncouth sight, bred in him no meane admiration, as -also kinde compassion to the unfortunate woman; out of which compassion, -sprung an earnest desire, to deliver her (if he could) from a death so -full of anguish and horror: but seeing himselfe to be without Armes, hee -ran and pluckt up 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. <i>Anastasio</i>, put not -thy selfe in any opposition, but referre to my Hounds and me, to punish -this wicked woman as she hath justly deserved. And in speaking these -words, the Hounds tooke fast hold on her body, so staying her, untill the -Knight was come neerer to her, and alighted from his horse: when <i>Anastasio</i> -(after some other angry speeches) spake thus unto 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 savage beast; therefore beleeve me, I will defend her so farre -as I am able.</p> - -<p><i>Anastasio</i>, 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 <i>Guido Anastasio</i>, and thine Unckle) became as intirely in love with -this woman, as now thou art of <i>Paulo Traversarioes</i> daughter. But through -her coy disdaine and cruelty, such was my heavy 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, rejoycing immeasurably in mine unhappie -death, remained no long time alive after me, and for her mercilesse sinne -of cruelty, and taking pleasure in my oppressing torments; dying unrepentant, -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.</p> - -<p>There the three impartiall Judges, imposed this further infliction on -us both; namely, that shee should flye in this manner before mee, and I -(who loved her so deerely while I lived) must pursue her as my deadly enemy, -not like a woman that had any taste of love in her. And so often -as I can overtake her, I am to kill her with this sword, the same Weapon -wherewith I slew my selfe. Then am I enjoyned, 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 give unto my hounds to feede -on. Afterward, such is the appointment of the supreame powers, that -she re-assumeth life againe, even 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. Every Friday, and just at this houre, -our course is this way, where shee suffereth the just punishment inflicted -on her. Nor do we rest any of the other dayes, but are appointed unto other -places, where she cruelly executed her malice against me, being now -(of her dear affectionate friend) 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 -divine justice; for all thy interposition is but in vaine, in seeking to crosse -the appointment of supreame powers.</p> - -<p><i>Anastasio</i> having attentively heard all this discourse, his haire stoode -upright like Porcupines quils, and his soule was so shaken with the terror, -that he stept back to suffer the Knight to doe what he was enjoyned, looking -yet with milde commiseration 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 devoured -them very greedily. Soone after, the Damosell (as if none of this punishment -had bene inflicted on her) started up 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 <i>Anastasio</i> had soon lost all sight of them, and could not gesse what -was become of them.</p> - -<p>After he had heard and observed 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 deceived servants. Forthwith hee perswaded -himself, that he might make good use of this womans tormenting, so justly -imposed on the Knight to prosecute, if thus it should continue still every -Friday. Wherefore, setting a good note or marke upon the place, hee -returned backe to his owne people, and at such time as hee thought convenient, -sent for divers of his kindred and friends from <i>Ravenna</i>, who being -present with him, thus hee spake to them.</p> - -<p>Deare Kinsmen and Friends, ye have a long while importuned mee, to -discontinue my over doating love to her, whom you all think, and I find -to be my mortall enemy: as also, to give over my lavish expences, wherein -I confesse my selfe too prodigal; both which requests of yours, I will -condiscend to, provided, that you will performe one gracious favour for -mee; Namely, that on Friday next, Signior <i>Paulo Traversario</i>, 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 mooving mee, you shall then -more at large be acquainted withall. This appeared no difficult matter -for them to accomplish: wherefore, being returned to <i>Ravenna</i>, and as -they found the time answerable to their purpose, they invited such as <i>Anastasio</i> -had appointed them. And although they found it somewhat an hard -matter, to gain her company whom he so deerely affected; yet notwithstanding, -the other women won her along with them.</p> - -<p>A most magnificent dinner had <i>Anastasio</i> provided, and the tables were -covered under 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 unkinde Mistresse, sate with her face opposite unto the place, -where the dismall spectacle was to be seene. About the closing up of dinner, -they beganne to heare the noise of the poore prosecuted Woman, -which drove them all to much admiration; desiring to know what it was, -and no one resolving 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 horseback, gallopping -fiercely after them with his drawn weapon, and came very nere -unto the company, who cryed out with lowd exclaimes against the dogs -and the Knight, stepping forth in assistance of the injuried woman.</p> - -<p>The Knight spake unto them, as formerly hee had done to <i>Anastasio</i>, -(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 unfortunate Woman, and likewise to the Knight, remembring -well both his love and death, did shed teares as plentifully, as if it had bin -to the very persons themselves, in visiall performance of the action indeede. -Which tragicall Scene being passed over, and the Woman and -Knight gone out of their sight: all that had seene this straunge accident, -fell into diversity of confused opinions, yet not daring to disclose them, -as doubting some further danger to ensue thereon.</p> - -<p>But beyond al the rest, none could compare in feare and astonishment -with the cruell yong Maide affected by <i>Anastasio</i>, who both saw and observed 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 -unkinde and cruell she had shewn her selfe to <i>Anastasio</i>, even as the other -Gentlewoman formerly did to her Lover, 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 prevent the -like heavy 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 love, which at the length shee fully obtayned, -and then purposed to prosecute in this manner.</p> - -<p>Secretly she sent a faithfull Chamber-maide of her owne, to greete -<i>Anastasio</i> on her behalfe; humbly entreating him to come see her: because -now she was absolutely determined, to give him satisfaction in all -which (with honour) he could request of her. Whereto <i>Anastasio</i> answered, -that he accepted her message thankfully, and desired no other favour -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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Anastasio</i>: which newes did so highly content them, that uppon -the Sunday next following, the mariage was very worthily sollemnized, -and they lived and loved together very kindly. Thus the divine 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 conversion, of a Maide so obstinately -scornfull and proud: but likewise al the women of <i>Ravenna</i> (being -admonished by her example) grew afterward more kinde and tractable -to mens honest motions, then ever they shewed themselves before. -And let me make some use hereof (faire Ladies) to you, not to stand over-nicely -conceited of your beauty and good parts, when men (growing -enamored of you by them) solicite you with their best and humblest -services. Remember then this disdainfull Gentlewoman, but more especially -her, who being the death of so kinde a Lover, 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 service.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Frederigo_of_the_Alberighi_Family_loved_a_Gentlewoman_and_was_not_requited" id="Frederigo_of_the_Alberighi_Family_loved_a_Gentlewoman_and_was_not_requited">Frederigo, <i>of the</i> Alberighi <i>Family, loved a Gentlewoman, and was not requited -with like love againe. By bountifull expences, and over liberall invitations, -he wasted and consumed all his lands and goods, having nothing left -him, but a Hawke or Faulcon. His unkinde Mistresse happeneth to come visite -him, and he not having 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.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The ninth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is figured to the life, the notable kindnesse and courtesie, of a true and -constant Lover: As also the magnanimous minde of a famous Lady.</i></h4> - - -<p>Madame <i>Philomena</i> having finished her discourse, the Queene perceiving, -that her turne was the next, in regard of the priviledge granted -to <i>Dioneus</i>; with a smiling countenance thus she spake. Now or never -am I to maintaine the order which was instituted when we beganne this -commendable exercise, whereto I yeeld with all humble obedience. And -(worthy Ladies) I am to acquaint you with a Novell, in some sort answerable -to the precedent, not onely to let you know, how powerfully -your kindnesses do prevaile, in such as have a free and gentle soule: but -also to advise you, in being bountifull, where vertue doth justly challenge -it. And evermore, let your favours shine on worthy deservers, without -the direction of chaunce or Fortune, who never bestoweth any gift by -discretion; but rashly without consideration, even to the first she blindly -meets withall.</p> - -<p>You are to understand then, that <i>Coppo di Borghese Domenichi</i>, who was -of our owne City, and perhaps (as yet) his name remaineth in great and -reverend authority, now in these dayes of ours, as well deserving 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 conversation among his neighbours, to talke of -matters concerning antiquity, and some other things within compasse -of his owne knowledge: which he would deliver in such singular order, -(having 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 us, that sometime there lived in <i>Florence</i> a yong -Gentleman, named <i>Frederigo</i>, Sonne to Signior <i>Philippo Alberigho</i>, who -was held and reputed, both for Armes, and all other actions beseeming a -Gentleman, hardly to have his equall through all <i>Tuscany</i>.</p> - -<p>This <i>Frederigo</i> (as it is no rare matter in yong Gentlemen) became enamored -of a Gentlewoman, named Madam <i>Giana</i>, who was esteemed (in -her time) to be the fairest and most gracious Lady in all <i>Florence</i>. In which -respect, and to reach the height of his desire, he made many sumptuous -Feasts and Banquets, Joustes, Tiltes, Tournaments, and all other noble -actions of Armes, beside, sending her infinite rich and costly presents, -making spare of nothing, but lashing all out in lavish expence. Notwithstanding, -shee being no lesse honest then faire, made no reckoning of -whatsoever he did for her sake, or the least respect of his owne person. So -that <i>Frederigo</i>, 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 live upon, -the silly revenewes 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 poverty, -no way quailing his love to the Lady, but rather setting a keener -edge thereon; he saw the City life could no longer containe him, where -most he coveted 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.</p> - -<p>While thus he continued in this extremity, it came to passe, that the -Husband to Madam <i>Giana</i> 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 unto him, if he chanced to die without a lawfull heire, hee -substituted his Wife, whom most dearely he affected, and so departed -out of this life. Madam <i>Giana</i> 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 <i>Frederigoes</i> Farme, and where he lived in such an honest kind of -contented poverty.</p> - -<p>Hereupon, the young Gentleman her Sonne, taking great delight in -Hounds and Hawkes; grew into familiarity with poore <i>Frederigo</i>, and having -seene many faire flights of his Faulcon, they pleased him so extraordinarily, -that he earnestly desired to enjoy her as his owne; yet durst not -move the motion for her, because he saw how choycely <i>Frederigo</i> esteemed -her. Within a short while after, the young Gentleman, became very -sicke, whereat his Mother greeved exceedingly, (as having no more but -he, and therefore loved him the more entirely) never 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 reveale it, and assuring -him withall, that (if it were within the compasse of possibility) he should -have it. The youth hearing how many times shee had made him these -offers, and with such vehement protestations of performance, at last thus -spake.</p> - -<p>Mother (quoth he) if you can doe so much for me, as that I may have -<i>Frederigoes</i> 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 <i>Frederigo</i> had most lovingly kept it, -not suffering it ever to be out of his sight. Moreover, shee remembred, -how earnest in affection he had beene to her, never thinking himselfe happy, -but onely when he was in her company; wherefore, shee entred into -this private 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 -ever flew? It is his onely Jewell of delight, and that taken from him, no -longer can he wish to live in this World. How farre then voide of understanding -shall I shew my selfe, to rob a Gentleman of his sole felicity, -having no other joy or comfort left him? These and the like considerations, -wheeled about her troubled braine, onely in tender care and love 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 resolve, -shee returned no answer to her Sonne, but sate still in her silent meditations. -At the length, love to the youth, so prevailed 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 -journey for the Faulcon, and assure thy selfe, that I will bring it with me. -Whereat the youth was so joyed, that he imagined, his sicknesse began instantly -a little to leave him, and promised him a speedy recovery.</p> - -<p>Somewhat early the next morning, the Lady, in care of her sicke Sons -health, was up and ready betimes, and taking another Gentlewoman with -her; onely as a mornings recreation, shee walked to <i>Frederigoes</i> poore -Countrey Farme, knowing that it would not a little glad him to see her. -At the time of her arrivall there, he was (by chance) in a silly Garden, on -the backe-side of his House, because (as yet) it was no convenient time -for flight: but when he heard, that Madam <i>Giana</i>, was come thither, and -desired to have some conference with him; as one almost confounded -with admiration, in all haste he ran to her, and saluted her with most humble -reverence. Shee in all modest and gracious manner, requited him -with the like salutations, thus speaking to him. <i>Signior Frederigo</i>, your -owne best wishes befriend you, I am now come hither, to recompence -some part of your passed travailes, which heretofore you pretended to -suffer for my sake, when your love 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 reverence, thus he replyed.</p> - -<p>Madam, I doe not remember, that ever 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 deservings, and by the service in which I did -stand engaged to you. But my present happinesse can no way bee equalled, -derived from your super-abounding gracious favour, and more then -common course of kindnesse, vouchsafing (of your owne liberal nature) -to come and visit so poore a servant. Oh that I had as much to spend againe, -as heeretofore riotously I have run thorow: what a welcome wold -your poore Host bestow upon you, for gracing this homely house with -your divine presence? With these wordes, hee conducted her into his -house, and then into his simple Garden, where having no convenient -company for her, he saide. Madam, the poverty of this place is such, that -it affoordeth none fit for your conversation: this poore woman, wife to -an honest Husbandman will attend on you, while I (with some speede) -shall make ready dinner.</p> - -<p>Poore <i>Frederigo</i>, although his necessity was extreame, and his greefe -great, remembring his former inordinate expences, a moity whereof -would now have stood him in some sted; yet hee had a heart as free and -forward as ever, not a jotte dejected in his minde, though utterly overthrowne -by Fortune. Alas! how was his good soule afflicted, that he had -nothing wherewith to honour his Lady? Up 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.</p> - -<p>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 covered 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 <i>Frederigo</i> not a little joyfull, that his credite -was so well saved. 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.</p> - -<p><i>Frederigo</i>, if you do yet remember your former carriage towards me, -as also my many modest and chaste denials, which (perhaps) you thought -to favour of a harsh, cruell, and un-womanly nature: I make no doubt, -but you will wonder at my present presumption, when you understande -the occasion, which expressely mooved me to come hither. But if you -were possessed of children, or ever had any, whereby you might comprehend -what love (in nature) is due unto them: then I durst assure my self, -that you would partly hold mee excused.</p> - -<p>Now, in regard that you never had any, and I my selfe (for my -part) have but 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 adverse 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 straungely 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 love you have born me, for thereby -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 give 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 saved, and wee both shall for ever remaine engaged to you.</p> - -<p>When <i>Frederigo</i> had heard the Ladies request, which was now quite -out of his power to graunt, because it had bene her service at dinner: he -stood like a man meerely dulled in his sences, the teares trickling amaine -downe his cheekes: and he not able to utter one word. Which shee perceiving, -began to conjecture 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 have it. Neverthelesse shee did not speake, but rather -tarried to attend his answer. Which, after some small respite and pawse, -he returned in this manner.</p> - -<p>Madame, since the houre, when first mine affection became soly devoted -to your service; Fortune hath bene crosse and contrary to mee, in -many occasions, as justly, 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 utter overthrow, and perpetuall molestation. -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 have 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.</p> - -<p>So soone as I heard, that it was your gracious pleasure to dine with -me, having regard to your excellency, and what (by merit) is justly due -unto 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 having drest hir, so well -as I could devise to do: you have fed hartily on her, and I am proud that -I have so well bestowne her. But perceiving now, that you would have -her for your sicke Sonne; it is no meane affliction to mee, that I am disabled -of yeelding you contentment, which all my lifetime I have desired -to doe.</p> - -<p>To approve 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 whatsoever. Yet she commended -his height of spirit, which poverty had no power to abase. Lastly, her -hopes being frustrate for enjoying the Faulcon, and fearing besides the -health of her Sonne: she thanked <i>Frederigo</i> for his honourable kindnesse, -returning home againe sad and melancholly. Shortly after, her sonne either -greeving that he could not have the Faulcone, or by extreamity of -his disease, chanced to dye, leaving his mother a most wofull Lady.</p> - -<p>After so much time was expired, as conveniently might agree with sorrow -and mourning; her Brethren made many motions to her, to joyne -her selfe in marriage againe, because she was extraordinarily rich, and as -yet but yong in yeares. Now, although she was well contented never to -be married any more; yet being continually importuned by them, and -remembring the honourable honesty of <i>Frederigo</i>, 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 never leave it: but seeing you are so earnest for my second marriage, -let me plainly tell you, that I will never accept of any other husband, -but onely <i>Frederigo di Alberino</i>.</p> - -<p>Her brethren in scornfull manner reprooved 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 sorry for it. But give 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 <i>Frederigo</i> to bee a -worthy Gentleman, though poverty had disgraced him in the Worlde: -consented thereto, so she bestowed her selfe and her riches on him. He on -the other side, having so noble a Lady to his Wife, and the same whome -he had so long and deerely loved: submitted all his fairest Fortunes unto -her, became a better husband (for the world) then before, and they lived -and loved together in equall joy and happinesse.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Pedro_di_Vinciolo_went_to_sup_at_a_friends_House_in_the_City_His_Wife_in_the" id="Pedro_di_Vinciolo_went_to_sup_at_a_friends_House_in_the_City_His_Wife_in_the">Pedro di Vinciolo <i>went to sup at a friends House in the City. His Wife (in the -meane while) had a young man (whom shee loved) at supper with her.</i> Pedro -<i>returning whom upon a sudden, the young man was hidden under a Coope -for Hennes.</i> Pedro, <i>in excuse of his so soone comming home, declareth, how -in the House of</i> Herculano <i>(with whom he should have supt) a friend of his -Wives was found, which was the reason of the Suppers breaking off.</i> Pedroes -<i>Wife reproving the error of</i> Herculanoes <i>Wife; An Asse (by chance) -treads on the young mans fingers, that lay hidden under the Hen-Coope. Uppon -his crying out,</i> Pedro <i>steppeth thither, sees him, knowes him, and findeth -the fallacy of his Wife: with whom (neverthelesse) he groweth to agreement, -in regard of some imperfections in himselfe.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The tenth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Reprehending the cunning shifts, of light headed and immodest Women, who, -by abusing themselves, doe throw evill aspersions on all the Sexe.</i></h4> - - -<p>The Queenes Novell being ended, and all the company applauding -the happy fortune of <i>Frederigo</i>, as also the noble nature of Madam -<i>Giana: Dioneus</i>, who never expected any command, prepairing to deliver -his discourse, began in this manner. I know not, whether I should terme -it a vice accidental, and ensuing through the badnesse of complexions uppon -us mortals; or else an error in Nature, to joy and smile rather at lewd -accidents, then at deeds that justly deserve commendation, especially, -when they doe not any way concerne our selves. Now, in regard that all -the paines I have hitherto taken, and am also to undergoe 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 favour a little of immodesty; yet -in hearing it, you may observe the same course, as you doe in pleasing -and delightfull Gardens, plucke a sweete Rose, and yet preserve 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 urgent necessity -doth require it.</p> - -<p>There dwelt (not long since) in <i>Perugia</i>, a wealthy man, named <i>Pedro di -Vinciolo</i>, who (perhaps) more to deceive some other, and restraine an evill -opinion, which the <i>Perugians</i> had conceived 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 unkind courses, upbraided -him daily with harsh speeches, making his owne home meerely -as a hell to him.</p> - -<p>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 private -thoughts. This Husband of mine liveth with me, as if he were no Husband, -or I his Wife; the marriage bed, which should be a comfort to us -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 conversation -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 never 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 have coopt my selfe up in -a Cloyster, and shorne my selfe a Nunne, but that I was not borne to such -severity of life. My youth shall be blasted with age, before I can truly understand -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 leave our memoriall to after times in our race, as all our predecessours -formerly have 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 living -among so many temptations, which flesh and bloud are not alwayes able -to resist. Well, I meane to be advised in this case, before I will hazard -my honest reputation, either to suspition or scandall, then which, no woman -can have two heavier enemies, and very few there are that can escape -them.</p> - -<p>Having 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 (over and over) her <i>Pater nosters</i>, -and all the Cities holy pardons hanging at her girdle, never talking of any -thing, but the lives of the holy Fathers, or the wounds of Saint <i>Frances</i>, -all the World admiring her sanctity of life, even as if shee were divinely -inspired: this she Saint must be our distressed womans Councellour, and -having found out a convenient season, at large she imparted all her mind -to her, in some such manner as formerly you have heard, whereto shee -returned this answere.</p> - -<p>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 error in this -life, then the losse of time, because it cannot be recovered againe; and -when the fiends themselves affright us, yet if we keepe our embers still covered -with warme ashes on the hearth, they have nor any power to hurt -us. If any one can truly speake thereof, then I am able to deliver true testimony; -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 have 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 small hearts griefe to me, that age should make me utterly despised, -and no fire afforded to light my tinder.</p> - -<p>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 serve onely for mens contentation, and to bring children, -and therefore are they generally beloved, which if they faile of, either it is -by unfortunate marriage, or some imperfection depending on nature, not -through want of good will in themselves. We have nothing in this world -but what is given us, in which regard, we are to make use of our time, and -employ it the better while we have it. For, when we grow to be old, our -Husbands, yea, our very dearest and nearest friends, will scarcely looke -on us. 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 shelves. -Nay, which is worse, rimes and songs is made of us, even 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 reversion as they can spare us. I tell thee Daughter, -thou couldst not make choyce of a meeter woman in all the City, to -whom thou mightest safely open thy minde, and knowes better to advise -thee then I doe. But remember withall, that I am poore, and it is your -part not to suffer poverty to be unsupplyed. I will make thee partaker of -all these blessed pardons, at every Altar I will say a <i>Pater noster</i>, and an <i>Ave -Maria</i>, that thou maist prosper in thy hearts desires, and be defended from -foule sinne and shame, and so shee ended her Motherly counsell.</p> - -<p>Within a while after, it came to passe, that her Husband was invited -foorth to Supper, with one named <i>Herculano</i>, 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 <i>Perugia</i> 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 perceived, shee was almost halfe dead with feare, and coveting -to hide the young man, that her Husband should not have any sight of -him, shee had no other meanes, but in an entry, hard by the Parlour where -they purposed to have supt, stood a Coope or Hen-pen, wherein she used -to keepe her Pullen, under which he crept, and then shee covered 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 -she saide: It seemes Sir you are a shaver at your meate, that you have -made so short a supper. In troth Wife (quoth he) I have 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.</p> - -<p>As <i>Herculano</i>, his wife, and I were sitting downe at the Table, very neere -unto us we heard one sneeze, whereof at the first we made no reckoning, -untill 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, <i>Herculanoes</i> -wife kept the doore fast shut against us, and would not let us 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 perceived, -that the party was hidden there, which wee had heard so often to sneeze -before.</p> - -<p>No sooner had he opened the doore, but such a smell of brimston came -foorth (whereof we felt not the least savour before) as made us likewise -to cough and sneeze, being no way able to refraine it. She seeing her Husband -to be much moved, excused the matter thus, that (but a little while -before) shee had whited certaine linnen with the smoake of brimstone, -as it is an usuall thing to doe, and then set the pan into that spare place, because -it should not be offensive to us. By this time, <i>Herculano</i> 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, even as if his heart would have -split in twaine. Foorth he pluckt him by the heeles, and perceiving how -matters had past, he saide to her. I thanke you Wife, now I see the reason, -why you kept us 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 discovery of her shame; without returning either excuse or -answere, foorth of doores she ran, but whither, we know not. <i>Herculano</i> -drew his Dagger, and would have 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 recovered; by the perswasion of some Neighbours comming -in: he was closely conveyed out of the house, and all the noyse -quietly pacified. Onely (by this meanes, and the flight of <i>Herculanoes</i> wife) -we were disappointed of our Supper; and now you know the reason of -my so soone returning.</p> - -<p>When she had heard this whole discourse, then she perceived, that other -Women were subject to the like infirmity, and as wise for themselves, -as shee could be, though these and the like sinister accidents might sometimes -crosse them, and gladly she wished, that <i>Herculanoes</i> Wifes excuse, -might now serve to acquite her: but because in blaming others errors, our -owne may sometime chance to escape discovery, and cleare us, albeit we -are as guilty; in a sharpe reprehending manner, thus she began. See Husband, -here is hansome behaviour, of an holy faire seeming, and Saint-like -woman, to whom I durst have confest my sinnes, I conceived such a religious -perswasion of her lives integrity, free from the least scruple of taxation. -A woman, so farre stept into yeeres, as shee is, to give such an evill -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 given; an universall shame -and slaunder, to all the good women of our City.</p> - -<p>Shall I terme her a woman, or rather some savage monster in a womans -shape? Hath shee not made am 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 wives; what -an heart-breake must this needes be to him, good man? Neither I, nor any -honest man else, ought to have 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.</p> - -<p>Then, remembring her owne case, and her poore affrighted friend, who -lay in such distresse under the Hen-coope; shee began to advise her Husband, -that he would be pleased to goe to bed, because the night passed on -apace. But <i>Pedro</i>, having a better will to eate, then to sleepe, desired her -to let him have some meate, else hee must goe to bed with an empty bellie; -whereto shee answered. Why Husband (quoth shee) do I make any -large provision, when I am debard of your company? I would I were -the wife of <i>Herculano</i>, seeing you cannot content your selfe from one -nights feeding, considering, it is now over-late to make any thing -ready.</p> - -<p>It fortuned, that certaine Husbandmen, which had the charge of <i>Pedroes</i> -Farme house in the Countrey, and there followed his affaires of -Husbandry, were returned home this instant night, having their Asses laden -with such provision, as was to be used in his City-house. When the -Asses were unladen, and set up 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 under the Hen-pen. Now, he being constrained -(like a Carpe) to lie flat on his belly, because the Coope was over-weighty -for him to carry, and one of his hands more extended forth, then -was requisite for him in so urgent 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 <i>Pedro</i> hearing, he wondered thereat not a little.</p> - -<p>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 removed not his foote, but rather trod the more firmely -on his hand. Comming to the Coope, driving thence the Asse, and taking -off the old sacke, he espyed the young man, who, beside the painfull -anguish he felt of his fingers, arose up trembling, as fearing some outrage -beside to be offered him by <i>Pedro</i>, 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 doe -him any harme. Feare not (quoth <i>Pedro</i>) I will not offer thee any violence: -onely tel me how thou camest hither, and for what occasion; wherein -the youth fully resolved him.</p> - -<p><i>Pedro</i> being no lesse joyfull 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 -use (even now) against the wife of <i>Herculano</i>, maintaining that shee had -shamed all other women, and justly deserved 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 urged you thereto, but that all women -are of one and the same condition, covering their owne grosse faults -by farre inferiour infirmities in others. You are a perverse generation, -meerely false in your fairest shewes.</p> - -<p>When she saw that he offered her no other violence, but gave 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 <i>Herculano</i>, who is an -olde, dissembling hypocrite? yet she can have of him whatsoever she desireth, -and he useth her as a woman ought to be, which favour I could never -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 every way as -necessarily required, both for the preservation 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 leave some remembrance -of woman-hood behind me. I tell thee plainly <i>Pedro</i>, I am a woman -as others are, and subject 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 endeavour thou to win the worthy -title of a Father, because I was made to be a Mother.</p> - -<p>When <i>Pedro</i> perceived, that his Wife had spoken nothing but reason, -in regard of his over-much neglect towards her, and not using 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 anything, 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 <i>Pedro</i>, all is forgotten and forgiven, let us to supper, and we are -all friends. She seeing his anger was so well appeased, lovingly kissed him, -and laying the cloth, set on the supper, which shee had provided for her -selfe & the youth, and so they supt together merrily, not one unkind word -passing betweene them. After supper, the youth was sent away in friendly -manner, and <i>Pedro</i> was alwayes afterward more loving to his Wife, then -formerly he had been, and no complaint passed on either side, but mutuall -joy and houshold contentment, such as ought to be betweene man and -wife.</p> - -<p><i>Dioneus</i> having ended his Tale, for which the Ladies returned him no -thankes, but rather angerly frowned on him: the Queene, knowing that -her government was now concluded, arose, and taking off her Crowne of -Lawrell, placed it graciously on the head of Madam <i>Eliza</i>, saying. Now -Madam, it is your turne to command. <i>Eliza</i> having received 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.</p> - -<p>We have long since heard, that with witty words, ready answers, and -sudden jests or taunts, many have checkt & reproved 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, have -encountred a scorner in his owne intention, and layed the blame where it -justly belonged. Every one commended the Queenes appointment, because -it savoured of good wit and judgement; and the Queene being risen, they -were all discharged till supper time, falling to such severall exercises -as themselves best fancyed.</p> - -<p>When supper was ended, and the instruments layed before them; by -the Queenes consent, Madam <i>Æmillia</i> undertooke the daunce, and the -Song was appointed to <i>Dioneus</i>, who began many, but none that proved -to any liking, they were so palpably obscene and idle, savouring 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.</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">The Song.<br /></span> -</i></div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">Eyes, can ye not refraine your hourely weeping?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eares, how are you deprivde of sweete attention?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thoughts, have you lost your quiet silent sleeping?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wit, who hath robde thee of thy rare invention?<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The lacke of these, being life and motion giving:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Are sencelesse shapes, and no true signes of living.<br /></span> -</i></div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">Eyes, when you gazde upon her Angell beauty;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eares, while you heard her sweete delicious straines,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thoughts (sleeping then) did yet performe their duty,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wit, then tooke sprightly pleasure in his paines.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">While shee did live, then none of these were scanting,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">But now (being dead) they all are gone and wanting.<br /></span> -</i></div></div> - -<p>After that <i>Dioneus</i> (by proceeding no further) declared the finishing -of his Song; many more were sung beside, and that of <i>Dioneus</i> highly commended. -Some part of the night being spent in other delightfull exercises, -and a fitting houre for rest drawing on: they betooke themselves to -their Chambers, where we will leave them till to morrow morning.</p> - - -<h4><i>The end of the Fifth Day.</i></h4> - - -<h4>FINIS.</h4> - - - - - - - - -<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 52617 ***</div> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/52617-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/52617-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 5610ea9..0000000 --- a/old/52617-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/old/52617-8.txt b/old/old/52617-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e7f831b..0000000 --- a/old/old/52617-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,19741 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The Decameron (Day 1 to Day 5), by Giovanni Boccaccio - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Decameron (Day 1 to Day 5) - Containing an hundred pleasant Novels - -Author: Giovanni Boccaccio - -Translator: John Florio - -Release Date: July 22, 2016 [EBook #52617] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DECAMERON (DAY 1 TO DAY 5) *** - - - - -Produced by Clare Graham and Marc D'Hooghe at -http://www.freeliterature.org (Images generously made -available by the Internet Archive.) - - - - - - -THE DECAMERON - -CONTAINING -An hundred pleasant Novels. - -_Wittily discoursed, betweene seaven Honourable Ladies, and three Noble -Gentlemen._ - - -London, printed by -Isaac Jaggard, -1620. - - - - - -The Epistle Dedicatory. - - -TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, SIR PHILLIP HERBERT, Knight of the Bath at the -Coronation of our Soveraigne Lord King James, 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 having -familiar conversation with them. _Intimating thereby:_ The reading of -ancient and moderne Histories, and endeavouring to learne such good -instructions, as have bene observed in our Predecessors. _A Question -also was mooved 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 have bin -done: And to read Bookes of those matters which offer themselves dayly, -or are fittest for our instant affaires. And lastly, in seeking those -things whatsoever, that make for a Kingdomes preservation, and the -correction of evill manners or examples. - -_Upon these good and warrantable grounds (most Noble Lord) beside many -more of the same Nature, which I omit, to avoide 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 gravity and gray-headed age speaketh maturely -in them, to the no meane admiration of common and vulgar judgement. -As contrariwise, such as are ignorant of things done and past, before -themselves had any being: continue still in the estate of children, -able to speake or behave themselves no otherwise; and, even within the -bounds of their Native 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 uppon 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, under your -Noble patronage and defence, to be safely sheelded from foule-mouthed -slander and detraction, which is too easily throwne upon the very best -deserving labours. - -I know (most worthy Lord) that many of them have (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 -favouring of his singular morall applications. For, as it was his full -scope and ayme, by discovering all Vices in their ugly deformities, to -make their mortall enemies (the sacred Vertues) to shine the clearer, -being set downe by them, and compared with them: so every true and -upright judgement, in observing the course of these well-carried -Novels, shall plainly perceive, that there is no spare made of reproofe -in any degree whatsoever, where sin is embraced, and grace neglected; -but the just deserving shame and punishment thereon inflicted, that -others may be warned by their example. In imitation of witty_ Æsope; -_who reciteth not a Fable, but graceth it with a judicious morall -application; as many other worthy Writers have done the like. - -For instance, let me heere insert one. A poore man, having a pike -staffe on his shoulder, and travailing thorow a Countrey Village, a -great Mastive 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 Judge, alledged, that he had slaine his servant, which -defended his life, house, and goods, and therefore challenged -satisfaction. The Judge leaning more in favour to the Plaintiffe, as -being his friend, neighbour, and familiar, then to the justice and -equity of the cause; reprooved the poore fellow somewhat sharpely, and -peremptorily commanded him, to make satisfaction, or else he would -commit him to prison. That were injustice replyed the poore man, -because I kilde the dogge in defence of mine owne life, which deserveth -much better respect then a million of such Curres. Sirra, sirra, saide -the Judge, then you should have turned the other end of your staffe, -and not the pike, so the dogges life had beene saved, and your owne in -no danger. True Sir (quoth the fellow) if the dog would have turn'd -his taile, and bit mee with that, and not his teeth, then we both had -parted quietly. - -I know your honour to be so truly judicious, that your selfe can make -the moral 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 uttermost endeavours, to bee alwayes ready at your -service._ - - - - - -_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 having already stood in neede of comfort, -do therefore most needfully deserve to enjoy it. Among whom, if ever -any were in necessity, found it most precious, and thereby received no -small contentment, I am one of them; because from my verie yongest -yeeres, even untill this instant: mine affections became extraordinarily -enflamed, in a place high and Noble, more (perhaps) then beseemed -my humble condition, albeit no way distasted in the judgement of -such as were discreete, when it came truly to their knowledge and -understanding. Yet (indeed) it was very painfull for me to endure, -not in regard of her cruelty, whom I so deerely loved; as for want of -better government in mine owne carriage; being altogether swayed by -rash and peevish passions, which made my afflictions more offensive to -mee, then either wisedome allowed, or suited with my private particular. - -But, as counsell in misery is no meane comfort, so the good advice of a -worthy friend, by many sound and singular perswasions, wrought such a -deliberate alteration; as not onely preserved my life (which was before -in extreame perill) but also gave conclusion to my inconsiderate love, -which in my precedent refractarie carriage, no deliberation, counsell, -evident shame, or whatsoever 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 delivering me likewise from -infinite perplexities. - -And because the acknowledgement of good turnes or courtesies received -(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 releeved me, because their -owne better understanding, 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 availe the -common needie, yet (methinkes) where greefe is greatest, and calamity -most insulteth; there ought to be our paines soundly imployed, and our -gravest instructions and advise wholly administred. - -And who can deny, but that it is much more convenient, to commisserate -the distresse of Ladies and Gentlewomen, then the more able condition -of men? They, as being naturally bashfull and timorous, have 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 have bin subject to the greatest proofe. Moreover, they being -restrained from their wils and desires, by the severity of Fathers, -Mothers, Bretheren, and Husbands, are shut up (most part of their time) -in their Chambers, where constrainedly sitting idle, diversity of -straunge cogitations wheele up and downe their braines, forging as many -severall imaginations, which cannot be alwayes pleasant and contenting. -If melancholly, incited by some amorous or lovely apprehension, -oppresse their weake and unresisting hearts: they must be glad to beare -it patiently (til by better Fortune) such occasions happen, as may -overcome so proud an usurpation. - -Moreover, we cannot but confesse, that they are lesse able, then men, -to support such oppressions: for if men grow affectionate, wee plainely -perceive, when any melancholly troublesome thoughts, or what greefes -else can any way concerne them, their soules are not subject 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 have a particular power in themselves, 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 love, and -thereby are most in neede of comfort (and not they that can handle the -Needle, Wheele, and Distaffe) I have provided an hundred Novelles, -Tales, Fables, or Histories, with judicious moralles belonging to them, -for your more delight, and queinter exercise. In a faire and worthy -assembly, of seven 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 severall day. - -In which pleasing Novels, may be observed many strange accidents of -Love, and other notable adventures, happening as well in our times, as -those of graver antiquity: by reading whereof, you may receyve both -pleasure and profitable counsell, because in them you shal perceive, -both the sin to be shunned, and the vertue to be embraced; which -as I wholly hate the one, so I do (and ever will) honour the others -advancement. - - - - -_The Table._ - - -The Epistle Dedicatory. - - -The Authors Prologue, to the Lords, Ladies, and Gentlewomen. - - -The First Day, Governed by Madam Pampinea. - - -1. Novell. - -_Messire Chappelet du Prat, by making a -false confession, beguiled an holy religious -man, and after dyed. And having during -his life time, bene a very bad man, at his death -was reputed to be a Saint, and called S. Chappelet._ - - -2. Novell. - -_Abraham a Jew, beeing admonished or advised -by a friend of his, named Jehannot de Chevigny, -travailed from Paris unto Rome: And beholding -there, the wicked behaviour of men in the -Church, returned to Paris againe, where (neverthelesse) -he became a Christian._ - - -3. Novell. - -_Melchisedech a Jewe, by recounting a tale of -three Rings, to the great Soldan, named Saladine, -prevented a great danger which was prepared -for him._ - - -4. Novell. - -_A monke having committed an offence, deserving -to be very greevously punished; freed himselfe -from the paine to be inflicted on him, by wittily reprehending -his Abbot, with the very same fault._ - - -5. Novell. - -_Lady Marquesse of Montferrat, with a Banket -of Hens, and divers other gracious speeches beside, -repressed the fond love of the King of France._ - - -6. Novell. - -_An honest plaine meaning man (simply & conscionably) -reprehended the malignity, hypocrisie, -and misdemeanour of many religious persons._ - - -7. Novell. - -_Bergamino, by telling a Tale of a skilfull man, -named Primasso, and of an Abbot of Clugni; -honestly checked a new kinde of covetousnesse, in -Master Can de la Scala._ - - -8. Novell. - -_Guillaume Boursieur, with a few quaint & familiar -words, checkt the miserable covetousness -of Signior Herminio de Grimaldi._ - - -9. Novell. - -_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. Novell. - -_Master Albert of Bullen, honestly made a Lady -to blush, that thought to have done as much -to him, because she perceived him to be amorously -affected towardes her._ - - -The second Day, governed by -Madam Philomena. - - -1. Novell. - -_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 recovery: but when his dissimulation -was discovered, he was well beaten, being -afterward taken prisoner, and in great danger -of being hanged and strangled by the necke, and -yet escaped in the end._ - - -2. Novell. - -_Rinaldo de Este, after he was robbed by theeves -arrived at Chasteau Guillaume, where he was -friendly lodged by a faire Widow, and recompenced -likewise for all his losses; returning afterward -safe and well home unto his owne house._ - - -3. Novell. - -_Of three yong Gentlemen, being Brethren, and -having spent all their Landes and possessions -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 Unckles losses, and seating them again -in good estate._ - - -4. Novell. - -_Landolpho Ruffolo, falling into poverty, became -a Pirate on the Seas, and beeing taken by the -Genewayes, hardly escaped drowning: Which yet -(neverthelesse) he did, upon a little chest or coffer -full of very rich Jewels, beeing carried thereon to -Corfu, where he was well entertained by a good -woman: and afterward, returned richly home to -his owne house._ - - -5. Novell. - -_Andrea de Piero, travelling from Perouse unto -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. Novell. - -_Madame Beritola Caracalla, was found in an -Island with two Goates, having lost her two -sons, and thence travailed into Lunigiana: where -one of her Sonnes became servant to the Lord thereof, -and was found some-what over-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. Novell. - -_The Soldane of Babylon sent one of his Daughters, -to be joyned in marriage with the King of -Cholcos; who by divers accidents (in the space of -foure yeares) happened into the custodie of nine -men, and in sundry places. At length, being restored -back 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. Novell. - -_Count D'Angiers being falsely accused, was banished -out of France, and left his two children -in England in divers places. Returning afterward -(unknowne) thorough Scotland, hee found them -advanced unto great dignity: Then, repairing in -the habit of a Servitor, into the King of Fraunce -his army, and his innocency made publikely knowen, -he was reseated in his former honourable degree._ - - -9. Novell. - -_Bernardo, a Merchant of Geneway, being deceived -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 servant to the Soldan. -The deceiver being found at last, she compassed such -means, that her husband Bernardo came into Alexandria, -and there after due punishment inflicted -on the false deceiver, she resumed the garments -againe of a woman, and returned home with her -Husband to Geneway._ - - -10. Novell. - -_Pagamino da Monaco, a roving Pyrate on the -seas, caried away the faire Wife of Signieur -Ricciardo di Chinzica, who understanding where -shee was, went thither; and falling into friendship -with Pagamino, demanded his wife of him; whereto -he yeelded, provided, that she would willingly go -away with him: shee denied to part thence with -her husband, and Signior Ricciardo dying, shee became -the wife of Pagamino._ - - -The third day, governed by Madame -_Neiphila_. - - -1. Novell. - -_Massetto di Lamporechio, by counterfetting -himselfe dumbe, became a Gardiner in a -Monastery of Nuns, where he had familiar -conversation with them all._ - - -2. Novell. - -_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 discovered by -the King, and the party knowne, hee gave him a -marke, by shearing the hair 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. Novell. - -_Under colour of confession and of a most pure conscience, -a faire yong Gentlewoman, being amorously -affected to an honest man; induced a devout -and solemne religious Friar, to advise her in the -meanes (without his suspition or perceiving) how to -enjoy the benefit of her friend, and bring her desires -to their full effect._ - - -4. Novell. - -_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 favour of -his daughter._ - - -5. Novell. - -_Ricciardo, surnamed the Magnifico, gave a horse -to signior Francesco Vergellisi, upon condition; -that by his leave 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. Novell. - -_Ricciardo Minutolo fel in love with the Wife of -Philippello Fighinolfi, and knowing her to bee -very jealous of her husband, gave her to understand, -that he was greatly enamored of his Wife, -and had appointed to meete her privatly 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 deceived by the said -Ricciardo._ - - -7. Novell. - -_Thebaldo Elisei, having received an unkinde repulse -by his beloved, 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 unto her. Hee delivered -her husband from the danger of death, because it -was proved that he had slaine Thebaldo, he made -peace with his brethren, and in the end, wisely enjoyed -his hearts desire._ - - -8. Novell. - -_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 grave, -and put into a darke prison, where they made him -beleeve that he was in purgatory: afterward when -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. Novell. - -_Juliet of Narbona, cured the King of France of a -dangerous Fistula: in recompence whereof, she requested -to enjoy as her husband in mariage, Bertrand -the Count of Roussillion. He having maried -her against his wil, as utterly despising her, went -to Florence, where he made love to a yong Gentlewoman. -Juliet, 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 -unto the Count, hee accepted her into his favour againe, -and loved her as his loyall and honourable -wife._ - - -10. Novell. - -_The wonderfull and chaste resolved continencie -of faire Serictha, daughter to Siwalde King of -Denmarke, who beeing sought and sued unto by -many worthy persons, that did affect her dearely, -would not looke any man in the face, untill such -time as she was maried._ - - -The Fourth Day, governed by -Philostratus. - - -1. Novell. - -_Tancrede, Prince of Salerne, 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. Novell. - -_Friar Albert made a yong Venetian Gentlewoman -beleeve, that God Cupid was falne in love -with her, and he resorted oftentimes unto 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 savage man, he was -brought upon the Rialto of S. Mark, & being there -publikely knowne by the Brethren of his Order, he -was committed to prison._ - - -3. Novell. - -_Three yong Gentlemen affecting three Sisters, -fled with them into Canaie. The eldest of them -(through jealousie) becommeth the death of her -Lover. The second, by consenting to the Duke of -Canaies request, is the meanes of saving 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 confesse -the fact: and fearing death, by corruption of money -they prevaile with their keepers, escaping from -thence to Rhodes, where they died in great poverty._ - - -4. Novell. - -_Gerbino, contrarie to the former plighted faith -of his Grandfather King Gulielmo, soughte -with a ship at sea belonging to the King of Thunis -to take away his daughter, who was then in the -same ship. She being slaine by them that had the -possession of her, he likewise slew them; and afterward -had his owne head smitten off._ - - -5. Novell. - -_The three Brethren to Isabella, slew a Gentleman -that secretly loved 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 -herbes are usually set in, she watered it (a long -while) with her teares: whereof her Brethren having -intelligence; soone after she died, with meere -conceite of sorrow._ - - -6. Novell. - -_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 unto -her; whereupon Gabriello fell down sodainly dead. -She, and her Chamber-maid were apprehended by -the Officers belonging unto 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 understanding of her Father, who approved -the innocence of his daughter, and compassed her -deliverance. But she afterward, being wearie of -all worldly felicities, entred into Religion, & became -a Nun._ - - -7. Novell. - -_Faire Simonida affecting Pasquino, and walking -with him in a pleasant garden, it fortuned -that Pasquino rubbed his teeth with a leaf of -Sage, and immediately fell downe dead. Simonida -being brought before the bench of Justice, and -charged with the death of Pasquino: she rubbed -her teeth likewise, with one of the leaves of the -same Sage, as declaring what she saw him do, & -thereon she dyed also in the same manner._ - - -8. Novell. - -_Jeronimo affecting a yong Mayden named Silvestra -was constrained by the earnest importunity -of his Mother, to take a journey to Paris. At -his returne home from thence againe, he found his -love Silvestra maried. By secret meanes he got entrance -into her house and dyed upon the bed lying -by her. Afterward, his body being caried unto the -Church to receive buriall, shee likewise died there -instantly upon his coarse._ - - -9. Novell. - -_Messer Guiglielmo of Rossiglione having slaine -Messer Guiglielmo Guardastagno, whom he imagined -to love his wife, gave 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. Novell. - -_A Physitians wife laid a Lover of her maids, supposing -him to be dead, in a chest, by reason that -he had drunke water which usually was given to -procure a sleepy entrancing. Two Lombard Usurers, -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 Justice, accuseth her self for putting -the imagined dead body into the chest, whereby -he escaped hanging: and the Theeves which -stole away the chest, were condemned to pay a very -great summe of money._ - - -The Fift day, Governed by Madame -Fiammetta. - - -1. Novell. - -_Chynon, by falling in love, became wise, and -by force of Armes, winning his faire Ladye -Iphigenia on the seas, was afterward imprisoned -at Rhodes. Being delivered by one name Lysimachus -with him he recovered his Iphigenia againe, -and faire Cassandra even 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. Novell. - -_Faire Constance of Liparis, fell in Love with -Martuccio Gomito: and hearing that hee was -dead, desperately she entred into a Barke which -being transported by the winds to Susa in Barbary, -from thence she went to Thunis, where she found -him to be living. There she made her selfe knowne -to him, and he being in great authority, as a privy -Counsellor to the King: he maried the saide Constance, -and returned richly home to her, to the Island -of Liparis._ - - -3. Novell. - -_Pedro Bocamazzo, escaping away with a yong -Damosel which he loved, named Angelina, met -with Theeves in his journey. The Damosel flying -fearfully into a Forest, by chaunce commeth to a -Castle. Pedro being taken by the theeves, & hapning -afterward to escape from them, accidentally -came to the same Castle where Angelina was: & -marying her, they then returned home to Rome._ - - -4. Novell. - -_Ricciardo Manardy, was found by Messer Lizio -da Valbonna, as he sat fast asleep at his daughters -chamber window, having his hand fast in hirs -and sleeping in the same manner. Whereupon they -were joyned together in mariage, and their long -loyall love mutually recompenced._ - - -5. Novell. - -_Guidotto of Cremona, departing out of this mortall -life, left a daughter of his with Jacomino -of Pavia. Giovanni di Severino, and Menghino da -Minghole, fel both in love with the yong Maiden, -and fought for her; who being afterward knowne -to be the sister to Giovanni, shee was given in mariage -to Menghino._ - - -6. Novell. - -_Guion di Procida, being found familiarly conversing -with a yong Damosel which he loved, -and had bene given formerly to Frederigo King of -Sicily: was bound to a stake to bee consumed with -fire. From which danger (neverthelesse) hee escaped; -being knowne by Don Rogiero de Oria, Lorde -Admirall of Sicily, and afterward marryed the -Damosel._ - - -7. Novell. - -_Theodoro falling in love with Violenta, the -daughter to his Master, named Amarigo, and -she conceyving with childe by him, was condemned -to be hanged. As they were leading him unto the -gallowes, beating and misusing him all the way: -hee happened to bee knowne by his owne Father, -whereupon he was released, and afterward injoyed -Violenta in mariage._ - - -8. Novell. - -_Anastasio, a Gentleman of the Family of the -Honesti by loving the daughter to Signior Paulo -Traversario, lavishly wasted a great part of -his substance, without receiving any love 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 -gave her to be devoured by his hounds. Anastasio -invited his friends, and hers also whom he so -dearly loved, to take part of a dinner with him, -who likewise sawe the same Damosell so torne in -peeces: which his unkind love perceiving, & fearing -least the like ill fortune should happen to her, -she accepted Anastasio to bee her husband._ - - -9. Novell. - -_Frederigo, of the Alberighi Family, loved a -Gentlewoman, and was not requited with like -love againe. By bountifull expences, and over liberal -invitations, hee wasted and consumed all his -lands and goods, having nothing lefte him, but a -Hawke or Faulcon. His unkinde Mistresse, happeneth -to come visit him, and he not having 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. Novell. - -_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 loved, at supper with her. -Pedro returning home upon a sodaine, the young -man was hidden under a Coope for Hens. Pedro, -in excuse of his so soone coming home, declareth; -how in the house of Herculano (with whome hee -should have supt) a friend of his wives was found, -which was the reason of the suppers breaking off. -Pedroes wife reproving the error of Herculanoes -wife: an Asse (by chance) treades on the young -mans fingers that lay hidden under the Henne-Coope. -Upon his crying out, Pedro steppeth thither, -sees him, knowes him, and findeth the fallacie of -his wife: with whom (neverthelesse) 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, upon what occasion it -hapned, that the persons (of whom we shall speake heereafter) should -thus meete together, to make so queint a Narration of Novels: Hee -declareth unto you, that they first begin to devise and conferre, under -the government 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 observe -respectively, how naturally you are enclined to compassion; as many -times do I acknowledge, that this present worke of mine, will (in your -judgement) appeare to have but a harsh and offensive beginning, in -regard of the mournfull remembrance it beareth at the verie entrance -of the last Pestilentiall mortality, universally 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 wish, that so fearefull a -beginning, should seeme but as an high and steepy hill appeares to them, -that attempt to travell farre on foote, and ascending the same with -some difficulty, come afterward to walk upon a goodly even plaine, -which causeth the more contentment in them, because the attaining -thereto was hard and painfull. For, even as pleasures are cut off by -griefe and anguish; so sorrowes cease by joyes most sweete and happie -arriving. - -After this breefe molestation, 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 (peradventure) could not bee expected by such a beginning, if -promise stoode not thereunto engaged. And indeed, if I could wel have -conveyed you to the center of my desire, by any other way, then so -rude and rocky a passage as this is, I would gladly have 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 (even as constrained thereto -by meere necessity) in writing after this manner. - -The yeare of our blessed Saviours 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 just anger of God was sent upon us -mortals. Some few yeeres before, it tooke beginning in the Easterne -partes, sweeping thence an innumerable quantity of living soules: -extending it selfe afterward from place to place Westward, untill it -seized on the said City. Where neither humane skill or providence, -could use any prevention, notwithstanding it was cleansed of many -annoyances, by diligent Officers thereto deputed: besides prohibition -of all sickly persons enterance, and all possible provision dayly used -for conservation of such as were in health, with incessant prayers and -supplications of devoute 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 divers admirable effects; yet not as it had done in the -East Countries, where Lord or Lady being touched therewith, manifest -signes of inevitable death followed thereon, by bleeding at the nose. -But here it began with yong children, male and female, either under -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 divers 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 everie 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 prooved 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 proceeded, and -so by consequent, no resolution was to be determined. Moreover, beside -the number of such as were skilfull in Art, many more both women and -men, without ever having 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 Feaver, 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 used in his service, seemed to -transferre the disease from the sicke to the sound, in very rare and -miraculous manner. Among which matter of marvell, 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 beleeve 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, even 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 have said) among divers other, one day -had evident 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 every dung-hill, tossed and -tumbled the cloathes with their snouts, rubbing their heads likewise -uppon 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 divers feares and imaginations in them that beheld -them, all tending to a most inhumane and uncharitable 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 themselves, that living soberly, -with abstinence from all superfluity; it would be a sufficient -resistance against all hurtfull accidents. So combining themselves in -a sociable manner, they lived as separatists from all other company, -being shut up in such houses, where no sicke body should be neere them. -And there, for their more security, they used delicate viands and -excellent wines, avoiding 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 having musicall instruments, -lived there in all possible pleasure. Others were of a contrary -opinion, who avouched, that there was no other physicke more certaine, -for a disease so desperate, then to drinke hard, be merry among -themselves, singing continually, walking every where, and satisfying -their appetites with whatsoever they desired, laughing, and mocking at -every mournefull accident, and so they vowed to spend day and night: -for now they would goe to one Taverne, then to another, living without -any rule or measure; which they might very easilie doe, because every -one of them, (as if he were to live no longer in this World) had even -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 adventure it) even as boldly as the Lord or owner, -without any let or contradiction. - -Yet in all this their beastly behaviour, 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 -divine as humane, was even 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 lived so solitary, in such great necessity of -servants and attendants, as they could not execute any office, whereby -it was lawfull for every 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 used all things sufficient -for their appetites, and without shutting up themselves, walked -abroade, some carrying sweete nose-gayes of flowers in their hands; -others odoriferous herbes, and others divers 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 savours. Some other there -were also of more inhumane minde (howbeit peradventure 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 moving them, and caring for no body but themselves, 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 heavily upon none, but such as were enclosed -within the City wals; or else perswading themselves, that not any one -should there be left alive, but that the finall ending of all things -was come. - -Now albeit these persons in their diversity of opinions died not all, -so undoubtedly 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 us omit, that one Citizen fled -after another, and one neighbour had not any care of another, Parents -nor kinred never visiting them, but utterly they were forsaken on all -sides: this tribulation pierced into the hearts of men, and with such -a dreadfull terror, that one Brother forsooke another; the Unkle 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, even 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 subjected to the avarice of servants, -who attended them constrainedly, for great and unreasonable 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 understanding, who -never before had served in any such necessities, nor indeed were any -way else to be imployed, but to give the sicke person such things as he -called for, or to awaite the houre of his death; in the performance of -which services, oftentimes for gaine, they lost their owne lives. - -In this extreame calamity, the sicke being thus forsaken of neighbours, -kinred, and friends, standing also in such need of servants; a custome -came up among them, never heard of before, that there was not any -woman, how noble, young, or faire soever shee was, but falling sicke, -shee must of necessity have a man to attend her, were he young or -otherwise, respect of shame or modesty no way prevailing, but all parts -of her body must be discovered to him, which (in the like urgency) -was not to be seene by any but women: whereon ensued afterward, that -upon the parties healing and recovery, 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 convenient -remedies, (which the sicke by no meanes could attain unto) 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 necesssity (among them that remained -living) begat new behaviours, quite contrary to all which had beene in -former times, and frequently used 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 having any women about them, but -infinites also past out of this life, not having any witnesse, how, -when, or in what manner they departed. So that few or none there were, -to deliver outward shew of sorrow and grieving: but insteed thereof, -divers declared idle joy and rejoycing, a use soone learned of immodest -women, having put off al feminine compassion, yea, or regard of their -owne welfare. - -Very few also would accompany the body to the grave, and they not -any of the Neighbours, although it had beene an honourable Cittizen, -but onely the meanest kinde of people, such as were grave-makers, -coffin-bearers, or the like, that did these services 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, having some foure or sixe poore Priests -following, with lights or no lights, and those of the silliest; short -service being said at the buriall, and the body unreverently throwne -into the first open grave they found. Such was the pittifull misery of -poore people, and divers, who were of better condition, as it was most -lamentable to behold; because the greater number of them, under hope of -healing, or compelled by poverty, kept still within their houses weake -and faint, thousands falling sick daily, and having 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 lives perished, -rather by the noysome smell of dead and putrified bodies, then by any -violence of the disease in themselves. So that of these and the rest, -dying in this manner every where, the neighbours observed one course -of behaviour, (moved thereto no lesse by feare, that the smell and -corruption of dead bodies should harme them, then charitable respect of -the dead) that themselves when they could, or being assisted by some -bearers of coarses, when they were able to procure them, 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 have the helpe of Bieres, were glad to lay them -on tables, and Bieres have bin observed, 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, have thus beene carried along to the grave -upon one Biere. - -Moreover, 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 have made up the -advantage, 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, even in their greatest height: not onely the wise might -now learne, but also the verie simplest people; & in such sort, that -they should alwaies be prepared against all infelicities whatsoever. - -Hallowed ground could not now suffice, for the great multitude of dead -bodies, which were daily brought to every Church in the City, and -every houre in the day; neither could the bodies have proper place of -buriall, according to our ancient custome: wherefore, after that the -churches and Church-yards were filled, they were constrained to make -use of great deepe ditches, wherein they were buried by hundreds at -once, ranking dead bodies along in graves, as Merchandizes are laide -along in ships, covering each after other with a small quantity of -earth, & so they filled at last up the whole ditch to the brim. - -Now, because I would wander no further in everie particularity, -concerning the miseries happening in our Citie: I tell you, that -extremities running on in such manner as you have 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 servants; & 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 -endeavours, even like to our Citizens; not minding or medling with their -wonted affaires: but, as awaiting for death every houre, imployed all -their paines, not in caring any way for themselves, their cattle, or -gathering the fruits of the earth, or any of their accustomed labours; -but rather wasted and consumed, even 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 servants 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 fore-said beasts (as endued with reason) after they -had pastured themselves in the day time, would returne full fed at -night home to their houses, without any government 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 servant? 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, Hippocrates,_ -and _Æsculapius_ (if they were living) could have reputed any way -unhealthfull; 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 understoode 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 divine Service, -in mourning habits (as the season required) returned thence seven -discreet yong Gentlewomen, all allyed together, either by friendship, -neighbour-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 behaviour, and gracious modesty. - -Their names I could report, if just 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 revealed) -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 -(over-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 them 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 _Fiammetta_; the third _Philomena_; the -fourth _Æmilia_; 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 divers sighs severally delivered, they conferred on sundry -matters answerable to the sad qualitie of the time, and within a while -after, Madam _Pampinea_ began in this manner. - -Faire Ladies, you may (no doubt as well as I) have often heard, that -no injury is offered to any one, by such as make use but of their owne -right. It is a thing naturall for everie one which is borne in this -World, to aide, conserve, 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 themselves) men have beene slaine -without any offence: yet Lawes have allowed it to be so, in whose -solicitude lieth the best living of all mortals. How much more honest -and just is it then for us, and for every other well-disposed person, -to seeke for (without wronging any) and to practise all remedies that -wee can, for the conservation of our lives? When I well consider, -what we have heere done this morning, and many other already past; -remembring (withall) what likewise is proper and convenient for us: -I conceive (as all you may do the like) that everie one of us hath a -due respect of her selfe, and then I mervaile not, but rather am much -amazed (knowing none of us to be deprived of a Womans best judgement) -that wee seeke not after some remedies for our selves, against that, -which every one among us, 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 graves; or else to listen, when the religious Sisters -here dwelling (whose number now are well-neere come to be none at all) -sing Service 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 offensive -fury) such as (by authoritie of publike Lawes) were banished hence, -onely for their bad and brutish behaviour 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 themselves to us, -by the base rascality of the Citie; who being fatted with our blood, -tearme themselves Grave-makers, and in meere contemptible mockerie of -us, are mounted on horse-backe, gallopping everie where, reproaching -us with our losses and misfortunes, with lewd and dishonest songs: so -that we can hear nothing else but such and such are dead, and such and -such lie a dying; heere hands wringing, and everie 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 wheresoever I go or sit -downe, me thinkes I see the ghostes and shadowes of deceased friends, -not with such lovely lookes as I was wont to behold them, but with most -horrid and dreadfull regards, newly stolne upon 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 having meanes or place of retirement, as all we -have, and none to remaine heere but onely we. - -Moreover, I have often heard it said, that in tarrying or departing, no -distinction is made in things honest or dishonest; onely appetite will -be served; and be they alone or in company, by day or night, they do -whatsoever their appetite desireth: not secular persons onely, but such -as are recluses, and shut up within Monasteries, breaking the Lawes of -obedience, and being addicted to pleasures of the flesh, are become -lascivious and dissolute, making the world beleeve, that whatsoever is -convenient for other women, is no way unbeseeming 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 selves lesse precious then all the other? Or do we beleeve, 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 -us? Wee erre therein, and are deceived. What brutishnesse were it in -us, if wee should urge any such beleefe? So often as wee call to minde, -what, and how many gallant yong men and women, have beene devoured by -this cruell pestilence; wee may evidently observe a contrary argument. - -Wherefore, to the end, that by being over-scrupulous and carelesse, we -fall not into such danger, whence when we would (perhaps) we cannot -recover our selves by any meanes: I thinke it meete (if your judgement -therein shall jumpe with mine) that all of us as we are (at least, if -we will doe as divers before us have done, and yet daily endeavour -to doe) shunning death by the honest example of other, make our -retreate to our Countrey houses, wherewith all of us are sufficiently -furnished, and thereto delight our selves 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 waving in the field like the billowes of the -Sea; infinite store of goodly trees, and the Heavens more fairely open -to us, then here we can behold them: And although they are justly -displeased, yet will they not there denie us better beauties to gaze -on, then the walles in our City (emptied of Inhabitants) can affoord us. - -Moreover, the Ayre is much fresh and cleere, and generally, there is -farre greater abundance of all things whatsoever, needefull at this -time for preservation of our health, and lesse offence or molestation -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 observe it, here wee forsake no particular person, but -rather wee may tearme our selves forsaken; in regard that our Husbands, -Kinred, and Friends, either dying, or flying from the dead, have left -us alone in this great affliction, even as if we were no way belonging -unto 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 us, and (as -this day) betake our selves to one place, to morrow to another, taking -there such pleasure and recreation, as so sweete a season liberally -bestoweth on us. In which manner we may remaine, till we see (if death -otherwise prevent us not) what ende the gracious Heavens have reserved -for us. I would have you also to consider, that it is no lesse seemely -for us to part hence honestly, then a great number of other Women to -remaine here immodestly. - -The other Ladies and Gentlewomen, having heard Madam _Pampinea_, not -onely commended her counsell, but desiring also to put it in execution; -had already particularly consulted with themselves, by what means they -might instantly depart from thence. Neverthelesse, Madam _Philomena_, -who was very wise, spake thus. - -Albeit faire Ladies, the case propounded by Madam _Pampinea_ hath -beene very wel delivered; yet (for all that) it is against reason for -us to rush on, as we are over-ready to doe. Remember that we are all -women, and no one among us is so childish, but may consider, that when -wee shall be so assembled together, without providence or conduct of -some man, we can hardly governe our selves. We are fraile, offensive, -suspicious, weake spirited, and fearefull: in regard of which -imperfections, I greatly doubt (if we have no better direction then our -owne) this society will sooner dissolve it selfe, and (perchance) with -lesse honour to us, then if we never had begunne it. And therefore it -shall be expedient for us, to provide 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 living, some be dispearsed here, others there, into divers places -and companies, where we have no knowledge of their being. And to accept -of strangers, would seeme very inconvenient; wherefore as we have -such care of our health, so should wee be as respective (withall) in -ordering our intention: that wheresoever wee aime at our pleasure and -contentment, reproofe and scandall may by no meanes pursue us. - -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 five and twenty yeeres) in whom, neither malice of -the time, loss of friends or kinred, nor any fearefull conceit in -themselves, 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 seaven, and the rest kinne -unto them in one degree or other. No sooner were these Ladies espyed -by them, but they met with them also in the same advantage; whereupon -Madam _Pampinea_ (amiably smiling) saide. - -See how graciously Fortune is favourable to our beginning, by -presenting our eyes with three so wise and worthy young Gentlemen, who -will gladly be our guides and servants, if we doe not disdaine them -the office. Madam _Neiphila_ beganne immediatly to blush, because one -of them had a love 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 us, 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 us: I -feare, if wee should make the motion, that some dishonour or reproofe -may ensue thereby, and yet without blame either in us or them. That is -nothing at all, answered Madam _Philomena_, let mee live 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 journey. - -The other Ladies hearing them speake in such manner, not onely were -silent to themselves, 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 them, as they stood -respectively observing them; and (with a pleasing countenance) giving -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 perceived, that her -words tended to solemne earnest; they made answer, that they were -all heartily ready to doe them any service. And without any further -delaying, before they parted thence, tooke order for their aptest -furnishing with all convenient 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, having three servants to waite -on them; left the City to beginne their journey, and having travelled -about a leagues distance, arrived 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, -having a large and spacious Court in the middest, round engirt with -galleries, hals and chambers, every one separate alone by themselves, -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 flowers, which could not but give them the greater contentment. -_Dioneus_, who (above the other) was a pleasant young gallant, and -full of infinite witty conceits, saide; Your wit (faire Ladies) hath -better guided us hither, then our providence. I know not how you have -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 give me leave to -goe seeke my sorrowes againe, and so to remaine discontented in our -desolate City. Madam _Pampinea_ having in like manner shaken off her -sorrowes, delivering a modest and bashfull smile, replied in this -manner. - -_Dioneus_, well have you spoken, it is fit to live merrily, and no -other occasion made us forsake the sicke and sad Citie. But, because -such things as are without meane or measure, are subject 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 -convenient, that wee should all agree, to have one chiefe commaunder -among us, in whom the care and providence should consist, for direction -of our merriment, performing honour and obedience to the party, as -to our Patrone and sole Governour. And because every one may feele -the burthen of sollicitude, as also the pleasure of commaunding, and -consequently have a sensible taste of both, whereby no envie may arise -on any side: I could wish, that each one of us (for a day onely) should -feele both the burthen and honour, and the person so to be advanced, -shall receive it from the election of us 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 divers -branches, she made of them an apparant and honourable Chaplet, placing -it (by generall consent) upon 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 servants, and the -waiting women also (being foure in number) to be brought before her, -thus shee began. Because I am to give the first example to you all, -whereby (proceeding on from good to better) our company may live in -order and pleasure, acceptable to all, and without shame to any: I -create _Parmeno_ (servant to _Dioneus_) Maister of the Houshold, hee -taking the care and charge of all our trayne, and for whatsoever -appertaineth to our Hall service. I appoint also that _Silisco_ -(servant to _Pamphilus_) shall be our Dispencer and Treasurer, -performing that which _Parmeno_ shall commaund him. And that _Tindaro_ -serve 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 serve continually in the Kitchin, and diligently make ready such -vyands, as shall be delivered them by _Parmeno. Chimera_, wayting-woman -to _Lauretta_, and _Stratilia_ (appertaining to _Fiammetta_) shall have -the charge and governement of the Ladies Chambers, and preparing all -places where we shall be present. Moreover, we will and commaund every -one of them (as they desire to deserve our grace) that wheresoever they -goe or come, or whatsoever they heare or see: they especially respect -to bring us tydings of them. After shee had summarily delivered them -these orders, very much commended of every one; shee arose fairely, -saying. Heere wee have Gardens, Orchards, Meadowes, and other places of -sufficient pleasure, where every one may sport & recreate themselves: -but so soone as the ninth houre striketh, then all to meete here -againe, to dine in the coole shade. - -This jocund company having received licence from their Queene to -disport themselves, the Gentlemen walked with the Ladies into a goodly -Garden, making Chaplets and Nosegayes of divers flowers, and singing -silently to themselves. 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 covered with delicate white naperie, and the -Glasses looking like silver, they were so transparantly cleare, all the -roome beside streawed with floures of Juniper. When the Queene and all -the rest had washed; according as _Parmeno_ gave order, so every one -was seated at the Table: the vyands (delicately drest) were served in, -and excellent wines plentifully delivered, none attending but the three -servants, 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 divers -instruments should be brought, and (as she gave 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 (having sent their attending servants -to dinner) paced foorth a daunce very majestically. And when the daunce -was ended, they sung sundry excellent Canzonets, out-wearing so the -time, untill the Queene commaunded them all to rest, because the houre -did necessarily require it. The Gentlemen having their Chambers farre -severed from the Ladies, curiously strewed with flowers, and their -beds adorned in exquisite manner, as those of the Ladies were not a -jote 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 overmuch 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 over-violently, because the shades of faire -spreading trees gave 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 us, and therefore 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 advice 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 us, a tale or fable related by some one, -to urge the attention of all the rest. And so wearing out the warmth -of the day, one prety Novell will draw on another, until the Sun be -lower declined, and the heates extremity more diminished, to solace -our selves in some other place, as to our minds shal seeme convenient. -If therefore what I have 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 Evening, I think we can devise no exercise more -commodious for us. - -The Ladies & Gentlemen allowed of the motion, to spend the time in -telling pleasant tales; whereupon the Queene saide: Seeing you have -approoved mine advice, I grant free permission for this first day, -that every one shall relate, what to him or her is best pleasing. And -turning her selfe to _Pamphilus_ (who was seated on her right hand) -gave him favour, with one of his Novels, to begin the recreation: which -he not daring to deny, and perceiving 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 having (during his life time) -bene a verie bad man, at his death was reputed to be a Saint, and -called S. Chappelet._ - - -The first Novell. - -_Wherein is contained, how hard a thing it is, to distinguish goodnesse -from hypocrisie; and how (under the shadow of holinesse) the wickednes -of one man, may deceive many._ - - -It is a matter most convenient (deare Ladies) that a man ought to -begin whatsoever 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 invention of discoursing Novelties: 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 ever to be praised by us. Now, as -there is nothing more certaine, but that even as temporall things are -mortall and transitory, so are they both in and out of themselves, -full of sorrow, paine, and anguish, and subjected to infinite dangers: -So in the same manner, we live mingled among them, seeming as part of -them, and cannot (without some error) continue or defend ourselves, -if God by his especiall grace and favour, give us not strength and -good understanding. Which power we may not beleeve, that either it -descendeth to us, or liveth in us, by any merites of our owne; but of -his onely most gracious benignity. Mooved neverthelesse, and entreated -by the intercessions of them, who were (as we are) mortals; and having -diligently observed his commandements, are now with him in eternall -blessednes. To whom (as to advocates and procurators, informed by the -experience of our frailty) wee are not to present our prayers in the -presence of so great a Judge; but only to himselfe, for the obtaining -of all such things as his wisedome knoweth to be most expedient for -us. And well may we credit, that his goodnesse is more fully enclined -towards us, in his continuall bounty and liberality; then the subtilty -of any mortal eye, can reach into the secret of so divine a thought: -and sometimes therefore we may be beguiled in opinion, by electing such -and such as our intercessors before his high Majesty, who perhaps are -farre off from him, or driven into perpetuall exile, as unworthy 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 -devotion, committed to the trust of a heedlesse intercessor; and such -prayers have alwaies gracious acceptation in his sight. As manifestly -will appeare, by the Novell which I intend to relate; manifestly (I -say) not as in the judgement of God, but according to the apprehension -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 was desired and incited to come thither by -Pope _Boniface_) found his affaires greatly intricated here and there -(as oftentimes the matters of Merchants fall out to bee) and that very -hardly hee should sodainly unintangle them, without referring the -charge of them to divers persons. And for all he tooke indifferent -good order, onely he remained doubtfull, whom he might sufficiently -leave, to recover 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 soever he was) in whom he might repose trust to meete -with their lewdnesse. Having a long while examined his thoughts upon -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 handsome 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 every 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 soever hee dealt withall, he would be -urged and required thereto, offering them his paines and travaile for -nothing, but to be requited otherwise then by money; which prooved 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 given to an oath, he making no care or conscience to -be perjured: greatly advantaged himselfe by Law suites, in regard that -many matters relyed upon his oath, and delivering 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 never would make deniall, but go to it very willingly; and divers -times it was wel knowen, that many were cruelly beaten, ye slaine by -his hands. Hee was a most horrible blasphemer of God and his Saints, -upon the very least occasion, as being more addicted to choller, -then any other man could be. Never would he frequent the Church, but -basely contemned it, with the Sacraments and religious rites therein -administred, accounting them for vile and unprofitable things: but -very voluntarily would visit Tavernes, and other places of dishonest -accesse, which were continually pleasing unto him, to satisfie his -lust and inordinate lubricitie. Hee would steale both in publike and -private, even with such a conscience, as if it were given to him by -nature so to do. He was a great glutton and a drunkarde, even 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 never was there a worse man borne; whose wickednesse was for -long time supported, by the favour, power, and Authoritie of Monsieur -_Musciatto_, for whose sake many wrongs and injuries were patiently -endured, as well by private persons (whom hee would abuse notoriously) -as others of the Court, betweene 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 behaviour) he perfectly -perswaded himselfe, that this was a man apt in all respects, to meete -with the treachery of the Burgundians: whereupon, having sent for him, -thus he beganne. - -_Chappelet_, thou knowest how I am wholly to retreate my selfe from -hence, and having some affaires among the Burgundians, men full of -wickednesse and deceite; I can bethinke my selfe of no meeter a man -then _Chappelet_, to recover 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 undergoe this office for me, I -will procure thee favourable Letters from the Court, and give thee a -reasonable portion in all thou recoverest. Master _Chappelet_, seeing -himselfe idle, and greedy after worldly goods, considering _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. - -Having made their agreement together, and received from _Musciatto_ his -expresse procuration, as also the Kings gracious Letters; after that -_Musciatto_ was gone on his journey, Master _Chappelet_ went to _Dijon_ -[Sidenote: To Borgogna saith the Italian.], where he was unknowne -(well neere) of any. And there (quite from his naturall disposition) -he beganne benignely and graciously, in recovering the debts due; -which course he tooke the rather, because they should have a further -feeling of him in the ende. Being lodged in the house of two Florentine -brethren, that lived on their monies usance; and (for _Mounsieur -Musciattoes_ sake) using him with honour and respect: It fortuned that -he fell sicke, and the two brethren sent for Physicions to attend him, -allowing their servants to be diligent about him, making no spare of -any thing, which gave the best likelyhood of restoring his health. But -all their paines proved to no purpose, because he (honest man) being -now growne aged, and having lived all his life time very disordredly, -fell day by day (according to the Physicions judgement) from bad to -worse, as no other way appeared but death, whereat the brethren greatly -greeved. - -Upon 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 gave him entertainement, and have allowed him honest physical -attendance, and he not having any way injuried or offended us, 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 receive -the blessed Sacrament of the Church, and dying so without confession; -there is no Church that will 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 absolve him. And being not absolved, 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 -coveting our spoile and overthrow; upon this accident will cry out and -mutiny against us; _Beholde these Lombard dogs, which are not to be -received into the Church, why should we suffer them to live heere among -us?_ In furious madnesse will they come upon us, and our house, where -(peradventure) not contented with robbing us of our goods, our lives -will remaine in their mercy and danger; so that, in what sort soever it -happen, this mans dying heere, must needs be banefull to us. - -Master _Chappelet_, who (as we have formerly saide) was lodged neere -to the place where they thus conferred, having 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 unto him, -thus hee spake. - -I would not have you to be any way doubtfull of me; neither that you -shold receive the least damage by me: I have heard what you have -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 have committed so many offences against our Lord God, in -the whole 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 unto 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 unto -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 them to their house. When he was come up into the Chamber -where Master _Chappelet_ lay, and being there seated downe by him; he -beganne first to comfort him very lovingly, demanding also of him, howe -many times he had bin at confession? Whereto master _Chappelet_ (who -never had bin shriven in all his life time) thus replied. - -Holy Father, I alwayes used (as a common custome) to bee confessed once -(at the least) every weeke, albeit sometimes much more often, but true -it is, that being faln into this sicknesse, now eight dayes since; -I have not bene confest, so violent hath bene the extremity of my -weakenesse. My sonne (answered the good old man) thou hast done well, -and so keep thee still hereafter in that minde: but I plainly perceive, -seeing thou hast so often confessed thy selfe, that I shall take the -lesse labour in urging questions to thee. - -Master _Chappelet_ replied: Say not so good Father, for albeit I have -bene so oftentimes confessed, yet am I willing now to make a generall -confession, even of all sinnes comming to my remembrance, from the very -day of my birth, until this instant houre of my shrift. And therefore I -intreate you (holy Father) to make a particular demand of every thing, -even as if I had never bene confessed at al, and to make no respect of -my sicknesse: for I had rather be offensive to mine owne flesh, then -by favouring 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 -never 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 never sinne. Then sayde -Maister _Chappelet_, Father, seeing you give me so good an assurance, -I will resolve you faithfully heerein. I am so true a Virgin-man in -this matter, even 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 lived, and therein hast not meanly merited: having hadde so much -libertie to doo the contrary if thou wouldst, wherein very few of us -can so answer for our selves. - -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, over and beside -the Fasts of our Lent season, which everie yeare ought to bee dulie -observed by devout people, I brought my selfe to such a customarie use, -that I could fast three dayes in every Weeke, with Bread and Water. But -indeede (holy Father) I confesse, that I have drunke water with such -a pleasing appetite and delight (especially in praying, or walking on -pilgrimages) even as greedy drunkards do, in drinking good Wine. And -many times I have desired such Sallades of small hearbes, as Women -gather abroad in the open fields, and feeding onely upon them, without -coveting 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 swerveth from devotion, 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 have thee to charge thy -conscience with them, more then is needfull. It happeneth to every man -(how holy soever he be) that after he hath fasted over-long, feeding -will be welcome to him, and drinking good drinke after his travaile. O -Sir (said Maister _Chappelet_) never tell me this to comfort me, for -well you know, and I am not ignorant therein, that such things as are -done for the service of God, ought all to be performed purely, and -without any blemish of the minde; what otherwise is done, savoureth of -sinne. The Friar being well contented with his words, said: It is not -amisse that thou understandest it in this manner, and thy conscience -thus purely cleared, is no little comfort to me. But tell me now -concerning Avarice, 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 have you to imagine, because you see me lodged here in the house -of two usurers, 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 have prevailed therein, had not this -violently sicknesse hindered mine intention. But understand (holy -Father) that my parents left me a rich man, and immediatly after my -fathers death, the greater part of his goods I gave away for Gods sake, -and then, to sustaine mine owne life, and to helpe the poore members -of Jesus Christ, I betooke my selfe to a meane estate of Merchandise, -desiring none other then honest gaine thereby, and evermore whatsoever -benefit came to me; I imparted halfe thereof to the poore, converting -mine owne small portion about my necessary affaires, which that other -part would scarcely serve to supply: yet alwayes God gave thereto such -a mercifull blessing, that my businesse dayly thrived 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 have 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 -judgements. Many times in a day, I have rather wished my selfe dead -then living, beholding youth pursuing idle vanities, to sweare and -forsweare themselves, tipling in Tavernes, and never 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 over-ruled thee, as to commit murther or -manslaughter, or to speake evill of any man, or to doe any other such -kinde of injurie? Oh Father (answered Maister _Chappelet_) you that -seeme to be a man of God, how dare you use 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 have suffered me to live? These are deedes -of darknesse, fit for villaines and wicked livers; of which hellish -crue, when at any time I have happened to meete with some one of them; -I have said, Goe, God convert thee. - -Worthy, and charitable words, replied the Friar; but tell me Sonne, -Didst thou ever 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 have spoken ill of -another, because I have 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 never did it, but when he was overcome with drinke. Those were no -ill words, quoth the Friar; but I remember, you said that you were a -Merchant: Did you ever deceive any, as some Merchants use 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 never happening to meete with the man -againe, after I had kept them the space of a whole yeare, I then gave -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 upon 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 have yet -one sinne more, which I have not revealed to you: when being urged 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 Saviour, and yet I have done no such -reverence to the Sunday or Sabaoth, as I ought to have 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 reverenced: 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 use -to spet there every 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 up to God. - -In this manner he held on an houre and more, uttering 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 mooved, said: -Alas Sonne, what aylest thou? Oh Father (quoth _Chappelet_) there -remaineth yet one sinne more upon my conscience, whereof I never at -any time made confession, so shamefull it appeareth to me to disclose -it; and I am partly perswaded, that God will never pardon me for that -sinne. How now Sonne? said the Friar, never say so; for if all the -sinnes that ever 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 upon 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 beleeve (if your earnest prayers doe not -assist me) that ever 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, -even as if his very heart would have broken, he saide; Holy Father, -seeing you promise to pray to God for me, I will reveale 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 greeved -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 -neverthelesse, upon their hearty repentance, he is alwayes ready to -forgive them; and wilt not thou beleeve to obtaine remission, for a -sinne so ignorantly committed? Weepe no more deare Sonne, but comfort -thy selfe, and rest resolved, that if thou wert one of them, who nayled -our blessed Saviour to his Crosse; yet being so truly repentant, as I -see thou art, he would freely forgive 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 forgive me. - -When the religious man perceived, that nothing more was to be confessed -by Master _Chappelet_; he gave him absolution, and his owne benediction -beside, reputing him to be a most holy man, as verily beleeving all -that he had said. And who would not have done the like, hearing a man -to speake in that manner, and being upon the very point of death? -Afterward, he saide unto 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 have your body buried in our Convent? 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 have -promised, to pray to God for me; and beside, I have alwayes carried a -religious devotion to your Order. Wherefore, I beseech you, so soone -as you are come home to your Convent, prevaile so much by your good -meanes, that the holy Eucharist, consecrated this morning on your high -Altar, may be brought unto me: for although I confesse my selfe utterly -unworthy, yet I purpose (by your reverend permission) to receive it, -as also your holy and latest unction; to this ende, that having lived a -greevous sinner, I may yet (at the last) die a Christian. These words -were pleasing to the good olde man, and he caused every 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 understood 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 themselves; 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 judgement 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 lived? -Notwithstanding, seeing he had so ordered the matter, that he had -buriall freely allowed him, they cared for no more. - -After that _Chappelet_ had received the Communion, and the other -ceremonies appointed for him; weakenesse encreasing on him more and -more, the very same day of his goodly confession, he died (not long -after) towards the evening. Whereupon the two Brethren tooke order, -that all needefull things should be in a readinesse, to have him buried -honourably; sending to acquaint the Fathers of the Convent therewith, -that they might come to say their _Vigilles_, 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 -Convent, and by sound of the house Bell, caused all the Brethren to -assemble together, giving them credibly to understand, 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 devoute solemnity and reverence; 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 used an especiall and solemne _Vigill_; 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 devoute 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 up 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 observations) what _Chappelet_ -had confessed, as this most great and greevous sinne, and how hardly -he could be perswaded, that God would grant him pardon for it. Whereby -he tooke occasion to reprove the people then present, saying; And you -(accursed of God) for the verie least and trifling matter hapning, -will not spare to blaspheme God, his blessed Mother, and the whole -Court of heavenly 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 asseveration of his words (whereto -all the people there present gave credible beleefe) he provoked them -unto such zeale and earnest devotion; 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 themselves, that could get the smallest peece or shred or 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, devotion, and integrity of life, maintained constantly by the -Fathers of the Convent; that if any one fell sicke in neede, distresse, -or adversity, they would make their Vowes to no other Saint but him: -naming him (as yet to this day they do) Saint _Chappelet_, affirming -upon their Oathes, that infinite miracles were there daily performed by -him, and especially on such, as came in devotion to visit his shrine. - -In this manner lived and died Master _Chappelet du Prat_, who before -he became a Saint, was as you have heard: and I will not deny it to be -impossible, but that he may be at rest among other blessed bodies. For, -although he lived lewdly and wickedly, yet such might be his contrition -in the latest extreamity, that (questionlesse) he might finde mercie. -But, because such things remaine unknowne to us, and speaking by -outwarde appearance, vulgar judgement 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 us, that he regards not our -errors, but the integrity of our Faith, making (by meanes of our -continuall Mediator) of an open enemy, a converted sonne and servant. -And as I began in his name, so will I conclude, desiring that it may -evermore be had in due reverence, and referre we our selves thereto in -all our necessities, with this setled assurance, that he is alwayes -readie to heare us. And so he ceased. - - - - -_Abraham a Jew, being admonished or advised by a friend of his, named -Jehannot de Chevigny, travailed from Paris unto Rome: And beholding -there the wicked behaviour of men in the Church, returned backe to -Paris again, where yet (neverthelesse) he became a Christian._ - -The Second Novell. - -_Wherein is contained and expressed, the liberality and goodnesse of -God, extended to the Christian Faith._ - - -The Novell recited by _Pamphilus_ was highly pleasing to the company, -and much commended by the Ladies: and after it had beene diligently -observed 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 us by his Tale, how the goodnesse of -God regardeth not our errors, when they proceede from things which -wee cannot discerne. And I intend to approove by mine, what argument -of infallible truth, the same benignity delivereth of it selfe, by -enduring patiently the faults of them, that (both in word and worke) -should declare unfaigned testimony of such gracious goodnesse, and not -to live so dissolutely as they doe. To the end, that others illumined -by their light of life, may beleeve with the stronger constancy of -minde. - -As I have heeretofore heard (Gracious Ladies) there lived a wealthy -Marchant in _Paris_, being a Mercer, or seller of Silkes, named -_Jehannot de Chevigny_, a man of faithful, honest, and upright -dealing; who held great affection and friendship with a very rich Jew, -named _Abraham_, that was a Merchant also, and a man of very direct -conversation. _Jehannot_ well noting the honesty and loyall dealing of -this Jew, began to have a Religious kind of compassion in his soule, -much pittying, that a man so good in behaviour, so wise and discreete -in all his actions, should be in danger of perdition thorow want of -Faith. In which regard, lovingly he began to entreate him, that he -would leave the errors of his Jewish beleefe, and follow the truth of -Christianity, which he evidently 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 Jew made answer, that he beleeved nothing to be so good & holy, as -the Jewish Religion, and having beene borne therein, therein also he -purposed to live and dye, no matter whatsoever, being able to remove -him from that resolution. For all this stiffe deniall, _Jehannot_ would -not so give him over; but pursued him still day by day, reitterating -continually his former speeches to him: delivering infinite excellent -and pregnant reasons, that Merchants themselves were not ignorant, how -farre the Christian faith excelled the Jewish falshoods. And albeit the -Jew was a very learned man in his owne law, yet notwithstanding, the -intire amity hee bare to _Jehannot_, or (perhaps) his words fortified -by the blessed Spirit, were so prevalent with him: that the Jew felt -a pleasing apprehension in them, though his obstinacie stood (as yet) -farre off from conversion. But as hee thus continued strong in opinion, -so _Jehannot_ left not hourely to labour him: in so much that the Jew, -being conquered by such earnest and continuall importunity, one day -spake to _Jehannot_ thus. - -My worthy friend _Jehannot_, thou art extremely desirous, that I should -convert to Christianity, and I am well contended to doe it, onely upon -this condition. That first I will journey 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 -endeavourest to perswade me: I will become a Christian as thou art, but -if I finde it otherwise, I will continue a Jew as I am. - -When _Jehannot_ heard these words, he became exceeding sorrowfull, -saide within himselfe. I have lost all the paines, which I did thinke -to be well imployed, as hoping to have this man converted here: For, -if he goe to the Court of Rome, and behold there the wickednes of the -Priests lives; farewell all hope in me, of ever seeing him to become -a Christian. But rather, were he already a Christian, without all -question, he would turne Jew: And so (going neerer to _Abraham_) he -said. Alas my loving friend, why shouldst thou undertake such a tedious -travell, and so great a charge, as thy journey from hence to Rome will -cost thee? Consider, that to a rich man (as thou art) travaile by -land or sea is full of infinite dangers. Doest thou not thinke, that -here are Religious men enow, who will gladly bestowe Baptisme upon -thee. To me therefore it plainely appeareth, that such a voyage is to -no purpose. If thou standest upon 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 resolve 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, reserve this journey to some time more -convenient, when the Jubilee of generall pardon happeneth, and then -(perchance) I will beare thee company, and goe along with thee as in -vowed pilgrimage. - -Whereto the Jew replied. I beleeve _Jehannot_, that all which thou hast -said may be so. But, to make short with thee, I am fully determined -(if thou wouldst have me a Christian, as thou instantly urgest me to -be) to goe thither, for otherwise, I will continue as I am. _Jehannot_ -perceiving his setled purpose, said: Goe then in Gods name. But -perswaded himselfe, that hee would never become a Christian, after hee -had once seene the Court of Rome: neverthelesse, he counted his labour -not altogether lost, in regard he bestowed it to a good end, and honest -intentions are to be commended. - -The Jew mounted on horse-backe, and made no lingering in his journey -to Rome, where being arrived, he was very honourably entertained by -other Jewes dwelling in Rome. And during the time of his abiding there -(without revealing to any one, the reason of his comming thither) very -heedfully he observed, the manner of the Popes life, of the Cardinals, -Prelates, and all the Courtiers. And being a man very discreete and -judicious, he apparantly perceived, 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. Moreover, drunkards, belly-Gods, -and servants of the paunch, more then of any thing else (even like -brutish beasts after their luxurie) were every where to be met withall. -And, upon further observation, hee saw all men so covetous and greedy -of coyne, that every 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 divinest qualities, how, or to whomsoever -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 upon all Trades) of manifest Symonie, under the nice -name of Negotiation, and for gluttony, not sustentation: even as if God -had not knowne the signification of vocables, nor the intentions of -wicked hearts, but would suffer himselfe to be deceived by the outward -names of things, as wretched men commonly use to doe. - -These things, and many more (fitter for silence, then publication) -were so deepely displeasing to the Jew, being a most sober and modest -man; that he had soone seene enough, resolving on his returne to -_Paris_, which very speedily he performed. And when _Jehannot_ heard -of his arrivall, crediting much rather other newes from him, then ever -to see him a converted Christian; he went to welcome him, and kindly -they feasted one another. After some fewe dayes of resting, _Jehannot_ -demaunded of him; what he thought of our holy father the Pope and his -Cardinals, and generally of all the other Courtiers? Whereto the Jew -readily answered; It is strange _Jehannot_, that God should give 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 have both heard and -seene: I could then have resolved my selfe, never to have found in -any Priest, either sanctity, devotion, good worke, example of honest -life, or any good thing else beside. But if a man desire to see luxury, -avarice, 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 perceive, -me thinkes your chiefe Pastour, and (consequently) all the rest of -his dependants, doe strive so much as they may (with all their engine -arte and endeavour) 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 perceive, that their wicked intent will never come to -passe, but contrariwise, that your faith enlargeth itselfe, shining -every day much more cleare and splendant: I gather thereby evidently, -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 never -minded to become a Christian: now I freely open my heart unto thee, -that nothing in the world can or shall hinder me, but I will be a -Christian, as thou art. Let us therefore presently goe to the Church, -and there (according to the true custome of your holy faith) helpe me -to be baptized. - -_Jehannot_, 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 joyfully did, hearing him so earnestly to desire -it. _Jehannot_ was his Godfather, and named him _John_, and afterward, -by learned Divines he was more fully instructed in the grounds of -our faith; wherein he grew of greatly understanding, and led a very -vertuous life. - - - - -_Melchisedech a Jew, by recounting a Tale of three Rings, to the great -Soldan, named Saladine, prevented a great danger which was prepared for -him._ - -The third Novell. - -_Whereby the Author, approving the Christian Faith, sheweth, how -beneficiall a sodaine and ingenious answer may fall out to bee, -especially when a man finds himselfe in some evident danger._ - - -Madame _Neiphila_ having 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 delivered by _Neiphila_, maketh mee remember a doubtfull -case, which sometime hapned to another Jew. And because that God, and -the truth of his holy Faith, hath bene already very wel discoursed -on: it shall not seeme unfitting (in my poore opinion) to descend now -into the accidents of men. Wherefore, I will relate a matter unto -you, which being attentively heard and considered; may make you much -more circumspect, in answering to divers questions and demands, then -(perhaps) otherwise you would be. Consider then (most woorthy assembly) -that like as folly or dulnesse, many times hath overthrowne some men -from place of eminencie, into most great and greevous miseries: even -so, discreet sense and good understanding, hath delivered many out -of irksome perils, and seated them in safest security. And to prove -it true, that folly hath made many fall from high authority, into -poore and despised calamity; may be avouched by infinite examples, -which now were needeless to remember: But, that good sense and able -understanding, may proove to be the occasion of great desolation, -without happy prevention, I will declare unto 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 gave him many signall -victories, over Kings of the Sarrazens, and of Christians likewise. -Having in divers 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 use some great summe of money, -yet not readily knowing where, or how to procure it; he remembred a -rich Jew named _Melchisedech_, that lent out money to use 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 device whereby he might have it: he concluded, though hee might not -compell him to do it, yet by a practise shadowed with good reason to -ensnare him. And having sent for him entertained him very familiarly in -his Court, and sitting downe by him, thus began. - -Honest man, I have 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, which -of those three Lawes or Religions, thou takest to be truest; that of -the Jew, the other of the Sarazen, or that of the Christian? The Jew, -being a very wise man, plainly perceived, 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 above 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 thereof, 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 have oftentimes heard it reported, that -(long since) there was a very wealthy man, who (among other precious -Jewels of his owne) had a goodly Ring of great valew; the beauty and -estimation whereof, made him earnestly desirous to leave 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 -reverenced 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 (coveting to beare esteeme above the other) desired -(as hee could best make his meanes) his father, that in regard he -was now grown very old, he would leave that Ring to him, whereby he -should bee acknowledged for his heire. The good man, who loved no one -of them more then the other, knew not how to make his choise, nor to -which of them he should leave the Ring: yet having past his promise -to them severally, he studied by what meanes to satisfie them all -three. Wherefore, secretly having 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 upon his death-bed, and his Sonnes then plying him by their best -opportunities, he gave to each of them a Ring. And they (after his -death) presuming severally upon their right to the inheritance & honour, -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 given by God the Father, to three such people as you -have propounded: each of them do imagine that they have 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 perceyving, that the Jew was too cunning to be caught -in his snare, and had answered so well, that to doe him further -violence, would redound unto his perpetuall dishonour; resolved to -reveale his neede and extremity, and try if he would therein friendly -sted him. Having disclosed the matter, and how he purposed to have -dealt with him, if he had not returned so wise an answer; the Jew lent -him so great a sum of money as hee demanded, and _Saladine_ repayed it -againe to him justly, giving him other great gifts beside: respecting -him as his especiall friend, and maintaining him in very honourable -condition, neere unto his owne person. - - - - -_A Monke, having committed an offence, deserving to be very grievously -punished; freede himselfe from the paine to be inflicted on him, by -wittily reprehending his Abbot, with the very same fault._ - -The fourth Novell. - -_Wherein may be noted, that such men as will reprove those errors in -others, which remaine in themselves, commonly are the Authors of their -owne reprehension._ - - -So ceased Madam _Philomena_, after the conclusion of her Tale, when -_Dioneus_ sitting next unto 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 understanding your generall -intention; we are purposely assembled here to tell Tales, and -especially such as may please our selves. In which respect, because -nothing should be done disorderly, I hold it lawfull for every one -(as our Queene decreed before her dignity) to relate such a novelty, -as (in their owne judgement) may cause most contentment. Wherefore -having heard, that by the good admonitions of _Jehannot de Chevigny_, -_Abraham_ the Jew was advised to the salvation of his soule, and -_Melchisedech_ (by his witty understanding) defended his riches from -the traines of _Saladine_: I now purpose to tell you in a few plaine -words, (without feare of receiving any reprehension) how cunningly a -Monke compassed his deliverance, 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 nowadayes they are; wherein lived (among -divers other) a young novice Monke, whose hot and lusty disposition -(being in the vigour of his yeeres) was such, as neither fastes nor -prayers had any great power over 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) uppon 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. - -Lascivious desire, and no religious devotion, made him draw neere -her, and whether under shrift (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 prevailed upon her -frailety, and such a bargaine passed betweene them, that (from the -Church) he wonne her to his Chamber, before any person could perceive -it. Now, while this yong lusty Monke (transported with over-fond -affection) was more carelesse of his dalliance, then he should have -beene; the Lord Abbot, being newly arisen from sleepe, and walking -softly about the Cloyster, came to the Monkes Dorter 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 perceived, that a woman was within. -Wherewith being much moved, he intended suddenly to make him open the -doore; but (upon better consideration) hee conceived it farre more -fitting for him, to returne backe to his owne chamber, and tary untill -the Monke should come forth. - -The Monke, though his delight with the Damosel was extraordinary, yet -feare and suspition followed upon it: for, in the very height of all -his wantonnesse, he heard a soft treading about the doore. And prying -thorow a small crevice in the same doore, perceived 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 veneriall Monke knew well enough (though wanton -heate would not let him heede it before) that most greevous punishment -must be inflicted on him; which made him sad beyond all measure. -Neverthelesse, 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 have it: whereupon seeming -satisfied for that season, hee tolde the Damosell, that (being carefull -of her credit) as he had brought her in unseen of any, so he would free -her from thence again, desiring her to tarrie there (without making any -noyse at all) until 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 delivering him the saide key -(as every Monke used to doe the like, when he went abroade out of the -Convent) setting a good countenance on the matter, boldly saide; My -Lord, I have not yet brought in all my part of the wood, which lieth -ready cut downe in the Forrest; and having now convenient time to doe -it, if you please to give me leave, I will goe and fetch it. The Abbot -perswading himselfe, that he had not beene discovered by the Monke, and -to be resolved more assuredly in the offence committed; being not a -little jocund of so happy an accident, gladly tooke the key, and gave -him leave 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 have no occasion of murmuring against -him, when he proceeded in the Monkes punishment; or rather should first -understand 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 -have her disgraced before all the Monkes. Wherefore he concluded, first -to see (himselfe) what shee was, and then (afterward) to resolve upon -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 receive publike -shame, by being betrayed in this unkinde manner. - -My Lord Abbot looking demurely on the Maide, and perceiving her to be -faire, feate, and lovely; 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 privately with himselfe. -Why should I not take pleasure, when I may freely have it? Cares -and molestations I endure every day, but sildome find such delights -prepared for me. This is a delicate sweete young Damosell, and here is -no eye that can discover me. If I can enduce her to doe as I would have -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 never befall -me; and therefore I hold it wisedome, to take such a benefit when a man -may enjoy it. - -Upon 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 prevent one shame -by another, was easily wonne to the Abbots will, which caused him to -embrace and kisse her often. - -Our lusty young novice Monke, whom the Abbot imagined to be gone for -wood, had hid himselfe aloft upon 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 undoubted certainty. A -little chincke or crevice favoured him, whereat he could both heare and -see, whatsoever was done or spoken by them: so, when the Abbot thought -hee had staide long enough with the Damosell, leaving 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 Convent, and supposing him to be lately returned with the wood, -determined to reprove him sharpely, and to have 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 giving him many harsh and bitter speeches, commanded, that -he should be clapt in prison. - -The Monke very readily answered, saying. My good Lord, I have not yet -beene so long in the order of Saint _Benedict_, as to learne all the -particularities thereto belonging. And beside Sir, you never shewed -mee or any of my brethren, in what manner we young Monkes ought to -use women, as you have otherwise done for our custome of prayer and -fasting. But seeing you have 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 never faile therein -againe, but dayly follow what I have seene you doe. - -The Abbot, being a man of quicke apprehension, perceived 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 deserved as much himselfe; pardoning -him, and imposing silence on eithers offence: they convayed the poore -abused Damosell forth of their doores, she purposing (never after) to -transgresse in the like manner. - - - - -_The Lady Marquesse of_ Montferrat, _with a Banquet of Hennes, and -divers other gracious speeches beside, repressed the fond love of the -King of_ France. - -The fift Novell. - -_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 -up into their faces, delivered 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 gave 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 virgin-blush, as very beautifully became her, -began in this manner. - -It is no little joy to me, that wee understand so well (by the -discourses already past) what power consisteth in the delivery of -wise and ready answeres; And because it is a great part offence and -judgement in men, to affect women of great birth and quality, then -themselves, as also an admirable fore-sight in women, to keepe off from -being surprized in love, by Lords going beyond them in degree: a matter -offereth it selfe to my memory, well deserving 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 service required -his company on the Seas, in a goodly Army of the Christians against -the Turkes. Upon 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 delivered, -concerning the valour and manhood of this Marquesse: it fortuned, that -a Knight was then present, who knew him very familiarly, and hee gave -an addition to the former commendation, that 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; even 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 (having as -yet never 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 journeying thither by land: hee would shape -some honest excuse to see the Lady Marquesse, whose Lord being then -from home, opinion perswaded him over-fondly, that he should easily -obtaine the issue of his amorous desire. - -When hee was come within a dayes journey, 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 judicious; -answered the Messenger, that she reputed the Kings comming to her, as -an extraordinary grace and favour, and that hee should be most heartily -welcome. Afterward, entring into further consideration with her selfe, -what the King might meane by this private 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 -deceived) that babling report of her beauty and perfections, might -thus occasion the Kings comming thither, his journy lying else a quite -contrary way. Notwithstanding, being a Princely Lady, and so loyall a -wife as ever lived, shee intended to give him her best entertainement: -summoning the chiefest Gentlemen in the Country together, to take due -order (by their advise) for giving the King a gracious welcome. But -concerning the dinner, and diet for service 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 provision beside) they should prepare all the services that they -could devise. 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 -ever he had seene before; whereat he mervailed 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 served 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. Neverthelesse, observing each -service after other, and that all the Viands (though variously cooked, -and in divers 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 -marvell the more, that nothing was provided for him, but Hennes onely: -wherein to be the better resolved, 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 understanding 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 wives, howsoever 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 under her answer; -perceiving apparantly, that wanton words would prove 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 unkingly 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 Novell. - -_Declaring, that in few, discreete, and well placed words, the covered -craft of Church-men may be justly reproved, and their hypocrisie -honestly discovered._ - - -Madam _Æmilia_ sitting next to the gentle Lady _Fiammetta_, perceiving -the modest chastisement, which the vertuous Lady Marquesse had given 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 deserved reprehension, which an honest simple lay-man, -gave to a covetous holy Father, in very few words; yet more to be -commended, then derided. - -Not long since (worthy Ladies) there dwelt in our owne native 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 understanding; and yet not so defective -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 judgement they could have 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 never 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 up -full with no meane abundance: _cum gladiis & 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, understanding 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 uttered. Presently the Inquisitor, most devoutly addicted -to Saint _John_ 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 Taverne 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 deserveth fire and faggot, if I should -proceede in Justice 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 believe 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 eare, and (by secret -means) so annointed his hands with Saint _Johns_ golden grease, (a very -singular remedy against the disease pestilentiall in covetous Priests, -especially Friars Minors, that dare touch no money) as the case became -very quickly altered. - -This soveraigne unction was of such vertue (though _Galen_ speakes -not a word thereof among all his chiefest medicines) and so farre -prevailed; that the terrible threatening words of fire and fagot, -became meerely frozen up, and gracious language blew a more gentle -and calmer ayre; the Inquisitor delivering him an hallowed Crucifixe, -creating him a Souldier of the Crosse (because he had payed Crosses -good store for it) and even as if he were to travell under that -Standard to the holy Land; so did hee appoint him a home-paying -pennance, namely, to visit him thrice every weeke in his Chamber, and -to annoint his hands with the selfe-same yellow unguent, 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 injunction) to heare Masse, in -the Gospell he observed these wordes; _You shall receive 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 have heard, but -doe beleeve all constantly; onely one thing troubleth me much, and -maketh me very compassionate of you, and of all these holy Fathers your -brethren, perceiving 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 moved to such compassion of us? O -good Sir, saide the man, doe you remember the words in the Gospell -this morning? you shall receive an hundred for one. That is very true, -replied the Inquisitor, but what moveth thee to urge 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 have daily -seene many poore people at your doore, and (out of your abundance) -when you and your brethren have fed sufficiently, every one hath had a -good messe of pottage: now Sir, if for every dishfull given, you are -sure to receive an hundred againe, you will all be meerely drowned in -pottage. Although the rest (sitting at the Table with the Inquisitor) -laughed heartily at this jest; yet he found himselfe toucht in another -nature, having (hypocritically) received for one poore offence, above -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 covetousnesse, -in Master_ Can de la Scala. - -The seaventh Novell. - -_Approving, that it is much unfitting for a Prince, or great person, to -be covetous; but rather to be liberall to all men._ - - -The curteous demeanour of Madam _Æmilia_, and the quaintnesse of her -discourse, caused both the Queene, and the rest of the company, to -commend the invention 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 never -stirreth out of his place: but it is a matter much more admirable, -to see a thing (suddenly appearing, and sildome or never frequented -before) to be as suddenly hit by an ordinary Archer. The vicious and -polluted lives of Priests, yeeldeth matter of it selfe in many things, -deserving 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 giving 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 reproved -Master _Can de la Scala_, a Magnifico and mightie Lord, for a sudden -and unaccustomed covetousnesse 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 favours of Fortune towards him) one of the -most notable and magnificent Lords that ever lived 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 divers places, especially Gentlemen of all degrees; suddenly -(upon 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 unrespected, 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 over long -delayed, yet hee made no doubt of a beneficiall ending. - -By some enemies of his, Master _Can de la Scala_ was incensed, that -whatsoever he gave or bestowed on him; was as ill imployed and -utterly 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 -over, and _Bergamino_ perceiving, that hee was neither called, nor -any account made of, notwithstanding many manly good parts in him; -observing beside, that hee found a shrewd consumption in his purse, his -Inne, horses, and servants being chargeable to him: he began to grow -extremely melancholly, and yet hee attended in expectation day by day, -as thinking it farre unfitting for him, to depart before he was bidden -farewell. - -Having brought with him thither three goodly rich garments, which -had beene given him by sundry Lords, for his more sightly appearance -at this great meeting: the importunate Host being greedy of payment, -first he delivered him one of them, and yet not halfe the score being -wiped off, the second must needes follow, and beside, except he meant -to leave his lodging, hee must live upon the third so long as it would -last, till hee saw what end his hopes would sort to. It fortuned, -during the time of living thus upon his latest refuge, that he met -with Maister _Can_ one day at dinner, where he presented himselfe -before him, with a discontented countenance: which Master _Can_ well -observing, 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 us why? _Bergamino_ suddenly, -without any premeditation, yet seeming as if he had long considered -thereon, reported this Tale. - -Sir, I have 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 never 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 have 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 never made refusall of any -(from whence so ever hee came or went) but they did eate and drinke -freely there; provided, 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 resolved 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 loaves of bread with him, knowing that he could -meete with water every where, albeit he used to drinke but little. -Having aptly convayed his bread about him, he went on his journey, and -arrived at the Lord Abbots Court, an indifferent while before dinner -time: wherefore, 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 provision 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 every 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 -served to any, of the Tables, untill the Lord Abbot was himselfe first -sette: whereupon, every 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 having not seene him before to his -remembrance; a present bad conceite possessed his braine, that he never -saw an unworthier person, saying within himselfe: See how I give my -goods away to be devoured. So returning backe to his Chamber againe, -commaunded the doore to be made fast, demaunding of every man neere -about him, if they knew the base Knave that sate before his entrance -into the Hall, and all his servants answered no. _Primasso_ being -extreamely hungry, with travailing on foote so farre, and never used to -fast so long; expecting still when meate would be served in, and that -the Abbot came not at all: drew out one of his loaves 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 -servant told him, that he still stayed there, and fed upon 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 have gone thence of -himselfe, and yet held it scarsely honest in his Lordship, to dismisse -him by his owne command. _Primasso_ having eaten one of his Loaves, and -yet the Abbot was not come; began to feede upon the second: the Abbot -still sending to expect his absence, and answered as he was before. -At length, the Abbot not comming, and _Primasso_ having eaten up 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 whatsoever? I have 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 knave, never refraining my -presence in the Hall, by basely contemning one poore man. Beleeve me, -covetousnesse 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 deserve more honour then I am -able to give him. - -Having thus discoursed with himselfe, he would needs understande 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 every where of 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, strove many waies how -to do him honour. When dinner was ended, the Abbot bestowed honourable -garments on him, such as beseemed his degree and merit, and putting -good store of money in his purse, as also giving 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 -devise 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 understanding, -perceyved 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 justly reprooved mine avarice, niggardnesse, and base folly. And -trust me _Bergamino_, I never felt such a fit of covetousness come upon -me, as this which I have dishonestly declared to thee: and which I will -now banish from me, with the same correction as thou hast taught mee. -So, having 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 covetousnesse of Signior_ Herminio de Grimaldi. - -The eight Novell. - -_Which plainly declareth, that a covetous Gentleman, is not worthy of -any honour 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 injunction 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 -unprofitably) base covetousnesse in a Merchant of extraordinary wealth. -Which Tale, although (in effect) it may seeme to resemble the former; -yet perhaps, it will prove no lesse pleasing to you, in regard it -sorted to as good an end. - -It is no long time since, that there lived in _Genes_ or _Geneway_, a -Gentleman named Signior _Herminio de Grimaldi_, who (as every 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 Avarice, -being so miserably greedy and covetous, as no man in the world could -be more wicked that way; because, not onely he kept his purse lockt up -from pleasuring any, but denied needful things to himself, enduring -many miseries & distresses, onely to avoide expences, contrary to the -_Genewayes_ generall custome, who alwayes delighted to be decently -cloathed, and to have 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 covetous 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 civill honest Gentleman -(a Courtier, of ready wit, and discoursive in Languages) came to -_Geneway_, being named _Guillaume Boursier_. A man very farre differing -from divers Courtiers in these dayes, who for soothing shamefull and -gracelesse manners, in such as allow them maintenance, are called and -reputed to bee Gentlemen, yea especiall favourites: whereas much more -worthily, they should be accounted as knaves and villaines, being -borne and bred in all filthinesse, and skilfull in every kinde of -basest behaviour, 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 loving speeches) would recreate -disturbed mindes, desiring none but commendable exercises in Court, -and sharpely reprooving (like fathers) disordred life, or ill actions -in any, albeit with recompence little, or none at all: these upstarts -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, -upbraiding him with injuries, shames, and scandals (true or not true) -upon the very least occasion. And by false and deceitfull flatteries -and villanies of their own inventing, they make Gentlemen to become as -vile as themselves. For which detestable qualities, they are better -beloved and respected of theyr misdemeanour'd Lords, and recompenced in -more bountifull manner, then men of vertuous carriage and desert. Which -is an argument sufficient, that goodnesse is gone up to heaven, 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 just and -religious anger against such deformity) this Gentleman, Master -_Guillaume Boursier_, was willingly seene, and gladly welcommed by all -the best men in _Geneway_. Having remayned some few dayes in the City, -& (among other matters) heard much talke of the miserable covetousness -of master _Herminio_, he grew verie desirous to have a sight of him. -Master _Herminio_ had already understood, that this Gentleman, Master -_Guillaume Boursier_, was vertuously disposed, and (how covetously -soever he was inclined) having in him some sparkes of noble nature; -gave him very good words, and gracious entertainement, discoursing with -him on divers occasions. - -In company of other _Genewayes_ with him, he 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 have heard and seene many things, and -you can instruct me in some quaint conceit or devise, 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 advise you in any thing, so rare or unseen as -you talke of: but how to sneeze (after a new manner) upon a full and -overcloyed stomacke, to avoide 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, wherewith (as yet) you never 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 have it fairely painted. Whereto Master _Guillaume_ -suddenly replied: Doe nothing but this Sir; Paint over the Portall -at your Halles entrance, the lively picture of Liberality, to bid -all your friends better welcome, then hitherto they have 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 have your advice so -truly figured over my gate, and shee shall give so good welcome to all -my guests, that both you, and all these Gentlemen shall say; I have -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 lived in his time in _Geneway_; no man more -honouring and friendly welcoming both strangers and Citizens, then he -continually used 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 Novell. - -_Giving all men to understand, that Justice is necessary in a King, -above all things else whatsoever._ - - -The last command of the Queene, remained upon 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 adventure, 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, approving, that when good -words are discreetly observed, they are of soveraigne 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_, travelling in pilgrimage, to visit the -sacred Sepulcher in _Jerusalem_, returning home againe, arrived 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 -justice the offences of others, but also suffered shamefull injuries -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 -revenge for her wrongs, shee resolved to checke the Kings deniall of -justice, and comming before him weeping, spake in this manner. Sir, I -presume not into your presence, as hoping to have redresse by you, for -divers dishonourable injuries done unto 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, even -as sleeping out his time of governement; beganne to revenge the wrongs -done to this Gentlewoman very severely, and (thenceforward) became a -most sharpe Justicer, for the least offence offered against the honour -of his Crowne, or to any of his subjects beside. - - - - -_Master_ Albert _of Bullen, honestly made a Lady to blush, that -thought to have done as much to him, because shee perceived him, to be -amorously affected towards her._ - -The tenth Novell. - -_Wherein is declared, that honest love 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 Starres (when the Ayre is faire and cleere) are the adorning and -beauty of Heaven, and flowers (while the Spring time lasteth) doe -graciously embellish the Meadowes; even 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 us women, this day, I thinke few or none have therein offended, -but as readily have understood short and pithy speeches, as they have -beene quicke and quaintly delivered. But when answering suteth not with -understanding, it is generally a shame in us, and all such as live; -because our moderne times have converted that vertue, which was within -them who lived before us, 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 have most matter in her, and -therefore to be more honoured and esteemed. Never considering, that -whosoever loadeth the backe of an Asse, or puts upon him the richest -braverie; he becommeth not thereby a jote the wiser, or merriteth -any more honour then an Asse should have. I am ashamed to speake it, -because in detecting other, I may (perhaps) as justly taxe my selfe. - -Such imbroydered bodies, tricked and trimmed in such boasting bravery, -are they any thing else but as Marble Statues, dumbe, dull, and utterly -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 devise and conference among men and women, they would -have the world to thinke, that it proceedeth but from simplicity and -precise opinion, covering 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 used in the action -of other things; so, time and place are necessarily to be considered, -and also whom we converse withall; because sometimes it happeneth, -that a man or woman, intending (by a word of jest and merriment) to -make another body blush or be ashamed: not knowing what strength of -wit remaineth in the opposite, doe convert the same disgrace upon -themselves. Therefore, that we may the more advisedly stand upon out -owne guard, and to prevent the common proverbe, _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 us 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 selves 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. Having 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 lovely -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, perceiving the occasion of his -passing and repassing; would privately jest thereat together, to see -a man of such yeares and discretion, to be amorously addicted, or -over-swayed by effeminate passions. For they were partly perswaded, -that such wanton Ague fits of Love, 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 upon a Feastivall day, that shee (accompanied with divers -other women of great account) being sitting at her doore; espied Master -_Albert_ (farre off) comming thitherward, and a resolved determination -among themselves was set downe, to allow him favourable entertainement, -and to jest (in some merry manner) at his loving folly, as afterward -they did indeede. - -No sooner was he come neere, but they all arose, and courteously -invited 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, aptly -suting with her yeares and desires? Master _Albert_ perceiving, 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. - -Beleeve 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 Love, are bereft and gone from aged people; yet goodwill -thereto cannot be taken from them, neither judgement to know such -as deserve 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 reverence. The hope which incited me (being aged) -to love you, that are affected of so many youthfull Gallants, grew -thus. I have often chaunced into divers places, where I have 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 unreasonable -appetite) will hold the heads of them in your hands, and feede upon the -blades or stalkes; which not onely are not good for any thing, but also -are of very bad savour. 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 have both well and worthily chastised our over-bold -presumption, and beleeve mee Sir, I repute your love and kindnesse of -no meane merit, comming from a man so wise and vertuous: And therefore -(mine honour reserved) commaund my uttermost, as alwayes ready to -do you any honest service. Master _Albert_, arising from his seat, -thanking the faire widdow for her gentle offer; tooke leave of her and -all the company, and she blushing, as all the rest were therein not -much behinde her, thinking to checke him, became chidden her selfe, -whereby (if wee be wise) let us all take warning. - -The Sunne was now somewhat farre declined, and the heates extremity -well worne away, when the Tales of the seaven Ladies and three -Gentlemen were thus finished, whereupon their Queene pleasantly said. -For this day (faire company) there remaineth nothing more to be done -under my regiment, but onely to bestow a new Queene upon you, who -(according to her judgement) 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 whatsoever 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 severally -begin. And therefore, in reverence to him that giveth life to all -things, and in hope of comfort by our second day; Madame _Philomena_, a -most wise young Lady, shall governe 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 reverently -placed it upon 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 whatsoever she commaunded. _Philomena_, her -cheekes delivering a scarlet tincture, to see her selfe thus honoured -as their Queene, and well remembring the words, so lately uttered 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 provision, as also for the supper so neere -approaching, before they departed away from thence, and then thus began. - -Lovely 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 judgement, 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 understand my meaning. If you have 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, -untill by over-tedious continuation, or other occasions of irkesome -offence, it shall seeme injurious, I am of the minde, not to alter -it. Holding on the order then as we have begun to do, we will depart -from hence to recreate our selves 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 every one shall finde fittest -for them, even as already this day we have done; untill due time shall -summon us hither againe, to continue our discoursive Tales, wherein (me -thinkes) consisteth both pleasure and profit, especially by discreete -observation. - -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 undergo, to wit, in restraining some matters whereon we are -to speake, that better premeditation may passe upon them. For, when -respite and a little leysure goeth before them, each discourse will -savour 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 have -bene guided (by Fortune) thorow divers accidents and occasions: so -beyond all hope & expectation, the issue and successe hath bin good and -succesfull, and accordingly should every one of our arguments be chosen. - -The Ladies, and the yong Gentlemen likewise, commended her advice, -and promised to imitate it; onely _Dioneus_ excepted, who when every -one was silent, spake thus. Madam, I say as all the rest have done, -that the order by you appointed, is most pleasing and worthy to bee -allowed. But I intreate one speciall favour for my selfe, and to have -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 urge this grace -of you, as being unfurnished of discourses in this kinde, I am well -contented to be the last in every dayes exercise. - -The Queene, knowing him to be a man full of mirth and matter, began -to consider very advisedly, that he would not have mooved this -request, but onely to the end, that if the company grew wearied by -any of the Tales re-counted, hee would shut uppe 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 river, 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 _Æmilia_, assisted by Madam _Lauretta_ -and _Dioneus_, shold sing a sweet ditty. At which command, _Lauretta_ -undertooke the dance, and led it, _Æmilia_ singing this song ensuing. - - _The Song. - - So much delight my beauty yeelds to mee, - That any other Love, - To wish or prove; - Can never sute it selfe with my desire. - - Therein I see, upon good observation, - What sweete content due understanding lends: - Olde or new thoughts cannot in any fashion - Rob me of that, which mine owne soule commends. - What object then, - (mongst infinites of men) - Can I ever finde - to dispossesse 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 never to refuse, - Which mortall tongue or thought, what ere it be; - Must still conceale, - not able to reveale, - 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 gave ending to this first dayes -Recreation. So, lights being brought, they departed to their severall -Lodgings, to take their rest till the next morning. - - -_The End of the first Day._ - - - - -The Second Day. - -_Wherein, all the Discourses are under the government of Madam -Philomena: Concerning such men or women, as (in divers accidents) have -beene much molested by Fortune, and yet afterward, contrary to their -hope and expectation, have had a happy and successefull deliverance._ - - -Already had the bright Sunne renewed the day every 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 seven 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 even 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, having put on her Crowne of Laurell, and giving a gracious -countenance to the whole company; commanded 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 recovery; but when his dissimulation was discovered, 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 Novell. - -_Wherein is signified, how easie a thing it is, for wicked men to -deceive the world, under the shadow and colour of miracles: and that -such trechery (oftentimes) redoundeth to the harme of the deviser._ - - -Faire Ladies, it hath happened many times, that hee who striveth to -scorne and floute other men, and especially in occasions deserving to -be respected, proveth to mocke himselfe with the selfe-same matter, -yea, and to his no meane danger beside. As you shall perceive by a -Tale, which I intend to tell you, obeying therein the command of -our Queene, and according to the subject by her enjoyned. In which -discourse, you may first observe, what great mischance happened to one -of our Citizens; and yet afterward, how (beyond all hope) he happily -escaped. - -Not long since there lived in the City of _Trevers_, an _Almaine_ or -_Germaine_, named _Arriguo_, [Sidenote: Or Arrigo.] who being a poore -man, served 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 _Trevers_ themselves -affirmed) in the very instant houre of his departing, all the Belles in -the great Church of _Trevers_, (not being pulled by the helpe of any -hand) beganne to ring: which being accounted for a miracle, every 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, even as if every 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 _Trevers_, one -of them being named _Stechio_, the second _Martellino_, and the third -_Marquiso_, all being men of such condition, as frequented Princes -Courts, to give them delight by pleasant & counterfeited qualities. -None of these men having ever beene at _Trevers_ 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. Having ordered all affaires at their lodging, _Marquiso_ saide; -It is fit for us to see this Saint, but I know not how we shall attaine -thereto, because (as I have heard) the place is guarded by Germane -Souldiers, and other warlike men, commanded thither by the Governours -of this City, least any outrage should be there committed: And beside, -the Church is so full of people, as wee shall never 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; every one will make way, and freely give you leave to goe on. - -This devise 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 upon him, and -whosoever beheld him, would verily have imagined, that hee was utterly -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 every one that they met, to grant them free passage, -whereto they charitably condiscended. - -Thus leading him on, crying still; Beware there before, and give way -for Gods sake, they arrived at the body of Saint _Arriguo_, that (by -his helpe) he might be healed. And while all eyes were diligently -observing, what miracle would be wrought on _Martellino_, hee having -sitten a small space upon the Saints bodie, and being sufficiently -skilfull in counterfeiting; beganne first to extend forth 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_, even as if it had thundered in the Church. - -Now it chanced by ill fortune, that there stood a _Florentine_ neere -to the body, who knew _Martellino_ very perfectly; but appearing so -monstrously misshapen, when he was brought into the Church, hee could -take no knowledge of him. But when he saw him stand up 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 -never 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 us all are: but indeede, he knowes better how to -dissemble counterfeit trickes, then any man else that ever 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 us, came hither in false and counterfeit manner. So laying -hands uppon him, they threw him against the ground, haling him by the -haire on his head, and tearing the garments from his backe, spurning -him with 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 still they -did beat him, as meaning to leave no life in him, which _Stechio_ and -_Marquiso_ seeing, considered with themselves, that they were likewise -in a desperate case; and therefore, fearing to be as much misused, they -cryed out among the rest; Kill the counterfeit knave, lay on loade, and -spare him not; neverthelesse, 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 Justice standing at the Church doore, hee ran -with all possible speede to the _Potestates_ Lieutenant, and said -unto him. Good my Lord Justice, 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 have my money againe. He hearing this, sent for a -dozen of the Sergeants, who went to apprehend unhappy _Martellino_, -and recover 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 Cut-purse. 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. - -Upon 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 Judge, waxing much displeased, delivered him over to the -Strappado, and stood by himselfe, to have him confesse the crimes -imposed on him, and then to hang him afterward. Beeing let downe to -the ground, the Judge still demaunded of him, whether the accusations -against him were true, or no? Affirming, that it nothing avayled him -to deny it: whereupon hee thus spake to the Judge. 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 -will tell you that, which (as yet) I have not done, otherwise I purpose -to make you no more answers. - -Well (quoth the Judge) thou requirest but reason; & calling divers 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 prove before you. I would to God I -had never set foote within this City, as it is not many houres since -my first entrance, and presently after mine arrivall, I went (in an -evill 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 unto 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 have said, I humbly -entreate you, that upon 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_, -understanding how roughly the _Potestates_ Lieutenant dealt with -_Martellino_ and that he had already given him the Strappado; were in -heavy perplexity, saying to themselves; we have 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 _Trevers_, 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 service, went with him to the Lord of _Trevers_; prevailing so well -with him, that he sent to have _Martellino_ brought before him. The -Messengers that went for him, found him standing in his shirt before -the Judge, very shrewdly shaken with the Strappado, trembling and -quaking pittifully. For the Judge would not heare any thing in his -excuse; but hating him (perhaps) because hee was a Florentine: flatly -determined to have him hangde by the necke, and would not deliver him -to the Lorde, untill in meere despight he was compeld to do it. - -The Lord of _Trevers_, when _Martellino_ came before him, and had -acquainted him truly with every 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, -delivering them also his Passe, they escaped out of further danger, and -tarried no where, till they came unto _Florence_. - - - - -_Rinaldo de Este, after he was robbed by Theeves, arrived at Chasteau -Guillaume, where he was friendly lodged by a faire widdow, and -recompenced likewise for all his losses; returning afterward safe and -well home into his owne house._ - -The second Novell. - -_Whereby wee may learne, that such things as sometime seeme hurtfull to -us, may turne to our benefit and commodity._ - - -Much 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 -unto _Neiphila_, the Queene commanded his Tale to be the next, when -presently he began to speake thus. - -Gracious Ladies, I am to speake of universall occasions, mingled with -some misfortunes in part, and partly with matters leaning to love: as -many times may happen to such people, that trace the dangerous pathes -of amorous desires, or have not learned perfectly, to say S. _Julians -pater noster_, having 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 Theeves, men -of most badde life and conversation; yet he having no such mistrust of -them, rode on, conferring with them very familiarly. They perceiving -him to be a Merchant, and likely to have some store of money about -him, concluded betweene themselves to rob him, so soone as they found -apt place and opportunity. But because he should conceive 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 service, accounting themselves happy by his -companie, as hee returned the same courtesie to them, because he was -alone, and but one servant with him. - -Falling from one discourse to another, they began to talke of such -prayers, as men (in journey) use to salute God withall; and one of the -Theeves (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 -use when thus you travell on the way? Whereto _Rinaldo_ replyed in this -manner. To tell you true Sir, I am a man grosse enough in such Divine -matters, as medling more with Marchandize, then I do with Bookes. -Neverthelesse, at all times when I am thus in journey, in the morning -before I depart my Chamber, I say a _Pater noster_ and an _Ave Maria_, -for the souls of the father and mother of Saint _Julian_, and after -that, I pray God and S. _Julian_ to send me a good lodging at night. -And let me tell you Sir, that very oftentimes heeretofore, I have met -with many great dangers upon the way, from all which I still escaped, -and evermore (when night drewe on) I came to an exceeding good Lodging. -Which makes mee firmely beleeve, that Saint _Julian_ (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 -travaile securely, nor come to a good lodging. No doubt then Sir (quoth -the other) but you have saide that prayer this morning? I would be sorry -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 themselves: Looke thou hast said thy praier, -for when we have thy money, Saint _Julian_ and thou shift for thy -lodging. Afterward, the same man thus againe conferd with him. As you -Sir, so I have ridden many journies, and yet I never used any such -praier, although I have heard it very much commended, and my lodging -hath prooved never the worser. Perhaps this verie night will therein -resolve us both, whether of us two shall be the best lodged; you that -have sayde the prayer, or I that never used it at all. But I must -not deny, that in sted thereof, I have made use of some verses, as -_Dirupisti_, or the _Jutemerata_, or _Deprofundis_, which are (as my -Grandmother hath often told mee) of very great vertue and efficacy. - -Continuing thus in talke of divers things, winning way, and beguiling -the time, still waiting when their purpose should sort to effect: it -fortuned, that the Theeves seeing they were come neere to a Towne, -called _Casteau Guillaume_, by the foord of a River, the houre somewhat -late, the place solitarie, and thickely shaded with trees, they made -their assault; and having robd him, left him there on foote, stript -into his shirt, saying to him. Goe now and see, whether thy Saint -_Julian_ will allow thee this night a good lodging, or no, for our -owne we are sufficiently provided; so passing the River, away they -rode. _Rinaldoes_ servant, seeing his Master so sharply assayled, like -a wicked villaine, would not assist him in any sort: but giving his -horse the spurres, never left gallowping, untill hee came to _Chasteau -Guillaume_, where hee entred upon the point of night, providing -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 arriving -there so late, hee found the gates fast lockt, and the Bridges drawne -up, so that no entrance might be admitted. - -Grieving greatly hereat, and being much discomforted, rufully hee went -spying about the walls, for some place wherein to shrowd himselfe, at -least, to keepe the snow from falling upon him. By good hap, hee espied -an house upon the wall of the Towne, which had a terrace jutting out as -a penthouse, under 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 pensively; -made many sad complaints to Saint _Julian_, saying: This was not -according to the trust he reposed in her. But Saint _Julian_, taking -compassion upon him, without any over-long tarying; provided him of a -good lodging, as you shall heare how. - -In this towne of _Chasteau Guillaume_, lived a young Lady, who was a -widdow, so beautifull and comely of her person, as sildome was seene a -more lovely creature. The Marquesse _Azzo_ most dearely affected her, -and (as his choysest Jewell of delight) gave her that house to live in, -under 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 having -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 urgent occasions called him thence, and hee rode away -immediately. - -Much discontented was the Lady at this unexpected accident, and not -knowing now how to spend the time, resolved to use 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 quivering moanes, and complaints, seeming to be such, -as the Swanne singing before her death: whereupon, shee called her -Chamber-maide, saying to her. Goe up above, and looke over the terrace -on the wall downe to this doore, and see who is there, and what hee -doth. The Chamber-maide went up 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 starve there to -death with colde. - -The Chamber-maide, being much moved 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 have 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 unto 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 heate thereof, even 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 _Julian_, hartily -thanking her, for delivering 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 respective birth and breeding, well deserving -this gracious favour which you have 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 reverence, expressing so much thankefulnesse as possibly hee -could, for this her extraordinary grace and favour. - -The Lady fixing a stedfast eye upon him, well liking his gentle -language and behaviour, perceiving also, how fitly her deceased -husbands apparell was formed to his person, and resembling him in all -familiar respects, he appeared (in her judgement) farre beyond the -Chambermaides commendations of him; so praying him to sit downe by her -before the fire, shee questioned with him, concerning this unhappy -nights accident befalne him, wherein he fully resolved her, and shee -was the more perswaded, by reason of his servants comming into the -Towne before night, assuring him, that he should be found for him early -in the morning. - -Supper being served in to the Table, and hee seated according as the -Lady commanded, shee began to observe 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 joviall youthfulnesse of his time, and truest -temper for amorous apprehension; all these were as battering engines -against a Bulwarke of no strong resistance, and wrought strangely upon -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 motive -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, and a sound -stability in his estate, but above all (and best of all) the single and -sole condition of a batcheler; an apt and easie steele to strike fire, -especially upon such quicke taking tinder, and in a time favoured by -Fortune. - -No imbarment remained, but remembrance of the Marquesse, and that being -summond to her more advised consideration, her youth and beauty stood -up as conscious accusers, for blemishing her honour and faire repute, -with lewd and luxurious life; farre unfit for a Lady of her degree, and -well worthy of generall condemnation. What should I further say? upon a -short conference with her Chambermaide, repentance for sinne past, and -solemne promise of a constant conversion, thus shee delivered her minde -to _Rinaldo_. - -Sir, as you have 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 living so perfectly in your person; -this house, and all mine, is yours; and of a widow I will become your -wife, except (unmanly) you denie me. _Rinaldo_ hearing these words, -and proceeding from a Lady of such absolute perfections, presuming -upon so proud an offer, and condemning himselfe of folly if he should -refuse it, thus replied. Madam, considering that I stand bound for ever -hereafter, to confesse that you are the gracious preserver 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 -service: let me die before a thought of deniall, or any way to yeeld -you the least discontentment. - -Here wanted but a Priest to joyne their hands, as mutuall affection -already had done their hearts, which being sealed with infinite kisses; -the Chamber-maide called up Friar _Roger_ her Confessor, and wedding -and bedding were both effected before the bright morning. In briefe, -the Marquesse having heard of the marriage, did not mislike it, but -confirmed it by great and honourable gifts; and having sent for his -dishonest servant, he dispatched him (after sound reprehension) to -_Ferrara_, with Letters to _Rinaldoes_ Father and friends, of all the -accidents that had befalne him. Moreover, the very same morning, the -three theeves, 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 having 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 -Uncles losses, and seating them againe in good estate._ - -The third Novell. - -_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 devotion -to Saint _Julian_, who (in such extreame necessity) sent him so good -succour. Nor was the Lady to be blamed, for leaving base liberty, and -converting to the chaste embraces of the marriage bed, the dignity -of womens honour, and eternall disgrace living 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 observe, 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 judgement) or setled order (at -least) that can bee knowne to us. Now, although these things appeare -thus daily to us, even 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 -unprofitable for the hearers, nor unpleasing in observation. - -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 derive him of the _Agolanti_; guiding (perhaps) -their opinion heerein, more from the traine of children, belonging -to the saide _Thebaldo_ (evermore 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 selves rich in readie monies -and revennewes, without any other government then their owne voluntary -disposition, kept no restraint upon their expences, but maintained many -servants, and store of unvalewable 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 revennewes suffised -not, to support such lavish 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 themselves quickly come to nothing, -and then poverty opened their eyes, which prodigality had before -closed up. Heereupon, _Lamberto_ (on a day) calling his Brethren to -him, shewed them what the honours of their Father had beene, to what -height his wealth amounted, and now to what an ebbe of poverty it was -falne, onely thorow their inordinate expences. Wherefore hee counselled -them, (as best he could) before further misery insulted over them; to -make sale of the small remainder that was left, and then to betake -themselves unto some other abiding, where fairer Fortune might chance -to shine uppon them. - -This advice prevailed with them; and so, without taking leave of any -body, or other solemnity then closest secrecy, they departed from -_Florence_, not tarrying in any place untill they were arrived in -_England_. Comming to the City of London, and taking there a small -house upon yearly rent, living on so little charge as possible might -be, they began to lend out money at use: wherein Fortune was so -favourable 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 themselves in marriage, -and yet continuing their usances in England; they sent a Nephew of -theirs thither, named _Alessandro_, a yong man, and of faire demeanour, -to maintaine their stocke in employment: while they three remained -still at _Florence_, and growing forgetful of their former misery, fell -againe into as unreasonable expences as ever, never respecting their -houshold charges, because they had good credite among the Merchants, -and the monies still sent from _Alessandro_, supported their expences -divers 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, upon -engagement of their Manours, Castles, and other revennues: from whence -he derived immeasurable benefite. While the three Brethren held on -in their lavish expences, borrowing moneys when they wanted untill -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 living in hope day by day, that peace would be concluded -betweene the Father and the Sonne, he never doubted, but all things -then should be restored to him, both the principall and interest, & -therefore 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 come 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 Wives and yong children being sent thence, some to one -village, some to another, so that nothing now was to be expected, but -poverty & misery of life forever. - -As for honest _Alessandro_, who had awaited long time for peace in -England, perceyving there was no likelyhood of it; and considering -also, that (beside his tarrying there in vaine to recover 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 journeying thence, being cloathed -in white, accompanied with divers 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 -having 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 travaile 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 use to do, when they ride upon the High-wayes. - -It chanced on a day, that _Alessandro_ rode somewhat neere to the -Abbot, who stedfastly beholding him, perceived that he was a verie -comely young man, so affable, lovely, and gracious, that even in -this first encounter, he hadde never 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 travelled. _Alessandro_ imparted freely to him all his affaires, in -every thing satisfying his demands, and offering (although his power -was small) to doe him all the service he could. - -When the Abbot had heard his gentle answers, so wisely & discreetly -delivered, 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. Wherefore, taking -compassion on his great misfortunes, he comforted him very kindly, -wishing him to live 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 -journied towards _Tuscany_, as he himselfe did the like, to continue -still (if he pleased) in his company. _Alessandro_ most humbly thanked -him for such gracious comfort; protesting, that he would be alwaies -ready, to doe whatsoever he commanded. - -The Abbot riding on, with newer crochets in his braine, then hee had -before the sight of _Alessandro_; it fortuned, that after divers dayes -of travaile, 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 provide 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 provided for his -traine in the Village, some in one place, and others elsewhere, in the -best manner that the Towne could yeelde. But when the Abbot had supt, a -great part of the night being spent, and every one else at his rest; -_Alessandro_ demaunded of the Host, what provision 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: Neverthelesse, next adjoining 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 serve 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 have lodgd his Monkes -in those Corn-lofts, and then both you and I might have slept where now -they do. But feare you not, my Lords Curtaines are close drawne, hee -sleepeth (no doubt) soundly, and I can conveigh you thither quietly -enough, without the least disturbance to him, and a Pallet-bed shal -be fitted there for you. _Alessandro_ perceyving, 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 never have -the like offer againe, or ever 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_, advising -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 favour. - -The Abbot, laying his arme over the others body, began to imbrace and -hugge him; even as amorous friends (provoked by earnest affection) -use to do. Whereat _Alessandro_ very much marvayling, and being an -_Italian_ himselfe, fearing least this folly in the Abbot, would -convert to foule and dishonest action, shrunk modestly from him. Which -the Abbot perceiving, and doubting, least _Alessandro_ would depart -and leave him, pleasantly smiling, and with bashfull behaviour, 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 resolve 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 Ivory; whereby he perceived, 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, upon thy lives perill, and -before thou further presume to touch me, understand what I shall tell -thee. I am (as thou perceivest) no man, but a woman; and departing -a Virgin from my Fathers House, am travelling 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 -ever, I know not; I conceived such an effectuall kinde of liking -towards thee, as never did woman love a man more truly, then I doe -thee, having 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 upon -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 overthrow, and his -great losses in _England_; wherefore, upon 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 upon the wall; before which, and calling him to witnesse, that -suffered such bitter and cruell torments on his Crosse, putting a Ring -upon 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 Loves acceptation, and so they journied on till they came to -_Rome_. - -When they had rested themselves there for some few dayes, the supposed -Abbot, with the two Knights, and none else in company but _Alessandro_, -went before the Pope, and having done him such reverence as beseemed, -the Abbot began to speake in this manner. - -Holy Father (as you know much better then any other) every one that -desireth to live 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 live within -the compasse of a vertuous conversation, may perfect my hopes in this -behalfe: I have fled from my Fathers Court, and am come hither in this -habite as you see, to crave therein your holy and fatherly furtherance. -I am daughter to the King of _England_, and have sufficiently furnished -my selfe with some of his treasures, that your holinesse may bestow -me in marriage; because mine unkind Father, never regarding my youth -and beauty (inferior to few in my native Country) would marry me to -the King of _North-wales_, 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 unstained life, lewd and -dishonest desires might make me to wander, by breaking the divine Lawes -of wedlocke, and abusing the royall blood of my Father. - -As I travailed 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 -civill demeanour, deserveth a Lady of farre greater worth, although -(perhaps) nobility in blood be denied him, and may make him seeme not -so excellent, as one derived from Royall discent. Holy and religious -vowes have past betweene us both, and the Ring on his finger, is the -firme pledge of my faith and constancie; never 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 have so solemnely -vowed it, that no disaster whatsoever 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 live in Gods feare, and dye in -his favour. - -Perswade your selves (faire Ladies) that _Alessandro_ was in no meane -admiration, when hee heard, that his wife was daughter to the King of -_England_; unspeakeable joy (questionlesse) wholly overcame him: but -the two Knights were not a little troubled and offended, at such a -strange and unexpected 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, -perceiving there was no resistance to be made against it, hee yeelded -the more willingly to satisfie her desire. And therefore, having first -comforted the two Knights, and made peace betweene them, the Princesse -and _Alessandro_; he gave 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 every eye was -highly delighted to behold her, commending her with no mean admiration. -In like manner was _Alessandro_ greatly honoured by the two Knights, -being most sumptuous in appearance, and not like a man that had lent -money to usury, 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 devised, hee gave them his -benediction, and licenced their departure thence. - -_Alessandro_, his Princesse and her traine thus leaving _Rome_, they -would needes visite _Florence_, where the newes of this accident was -(long before) noysed, and they received by the Citizens in royall -manner. There did shee deliver the three brethren out of prison, -having first payed all their debts, and reseated them againe (with -their wives) in their former inheritances and possessions. Afterward, -departing from _Florence_, and _Agolanto_, one of the Uncles travailing -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 prevailed so succesfully with the King; that hee -received his daughter into grace and favour, as also his Sonne in law -her husband, to whom hee gave 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 love and favour of all the people; and -_Agolanto_ (by the meanes of _Alessandro_) recovered all that was -due to him and his brethren in _England_, returning richly home to -_Florence_, Counte _Alessandro_ (his kinsman) having first dubd him -Knight. Longtime hee lived in peace and tranquility, with the faire -Princesse his wife, proving 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 poverty, became a Pirate on the Seas, -and being taken by the Genewayes, hardly escaped drowning: Which -yet (neverthelesse) he did, upon a little Chest or Coffer, full of -very rich Jewels, 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 Novell. - -_Whereby may be discerned, into how many dangers a man may fall, -through a covetous 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 never behold (in -mine opinion) a greater act of Fortune, then to see a man so suddainly -exalted, even from the lowest depth of poverty, to a Royall estate of -dignity; as the discourse of Madame _Pampinea_ hath made good, by the -happy advancement of _Alessandro_. And because it appeareth necessary, -that whosoever discourseth on the subject 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 howsoever 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 upon 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 _Ravello_, 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 coveting 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, lading it with divers -sorts of Merchandizes, all belonging to himselfe onely, and making his -voyage to the Isle of _Cyprus_. Where he found, over and beside the -Merchandizes he had brought thither, many Ships more there arrived, -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 utter destruction -and overthrow. Whereupon, grieving exceedingly at so great a losse, -not knowing what to doe, and seeing, that from very aboundant wealth, -hee was likely to fall into as low poverty: hee resolved to dye, or to -recompence his losses upon others, because he would not returne home -poore, having 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 use of a -Pirate, arming and furnishing it in ample manner, for roving and -robbing upon 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 favourable to him, that hee could never 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 -recovered, not onely of all his losses by Merchandize, but likewise his -wealth was wholly redoubled. Finding his losses to be very liberally -requited, and having 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 covet after more: he fully concluded, now -to returne home to his owne house againe, and live upon his goods thus -gotten. - -Continuing still in feare, of the losses he had sustained by traffique, -& minding, never 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 over-taking -them, and a mighty winde suddainly comming upon them: it not onely was -contrary to their course, but held on with such impetuous violence; -that the small vessell, being unable to endure it, made to land-ward -speedily, and in expectation of a more friendly wind, entred a little -port of the Sea, directing up 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 uppe her passage from getting foorth; -understanding the Owners name, and that report had famed him to be very -rich, they determined (as men evermore addicted naturally, to covet -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 over-boord, without -sparing any but _Landolpho_ himselfe, whom they mounted into one of -the Carrackes, leaving him nothing but a poore shirt of Maile on his -backe, and having 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 againe, having a prosperous passage all the -day long; but uppon 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 -even 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 save their lives by -swimming. Others caught hold on such things, as by Fortunes favour -floated neerest to them, among whom, distressed _Landolpho_, desirous -to save 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 poverty; yet, -seeing how other men strove for safety of their lives by any helpe, -were it never so little, he tooke advantage of this favour offred him, -and the rather in a necessitie so urgent. Keeping fast upon the Coffer -so well as he could, and being driven by the winds & waves, one while -this way, and anon quite contrarie, he made shift for himselfe till day -appeared; when looking every way about him, seeing nothing but clouds, -the seas and the Coffer, which one while shrunke from under him, and -another while supported him, according as the windes and billowes -carried it: all that day and night thus he floated up and downe, -drinking more then willingly hee would, but almost hunger-starved -thorow want of foode. The next morning, either by the appointment -of heaven, or power of the Windes, _Landolpho_ who was (well-neere) -become a Spundge, holding his armes strongly about the Chest, as wee -have seene some doe, who (dreading drowning) take hold on any the very -smallest helpe; drew neere unto 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 service; but even as the waves and windes pleased, the -Chest was driven still neerer to the Land, and then the woman perceived -that it had the forme of a Coffer, and looking more advisedly, beheld -two armes extended over it, and afterward, shee espied the face of a -man, not being able to judge, whether he were alive, or no. Moved 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 unfolded his armes from the Chest, setting it up on -her Daughters head, and then betweene them, _Landolpho_ was led into -the Towne, and there conveyed into a warme Stove, where quickly he -recovered (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 upon the waves, and -(next under God) had saved 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. Neverthelesse, 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. Having 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 deliverance -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 up the Jewels in -very unsightly cloutes, that no suspition at all should be conceived -of them, hee saide to the good woman, that the Chest would not doe him -any further service; but if shee pleased to lende him a small sacke or -bagge, shee might keepe the Cofer, for in her house it would divers -way stead her. The woman gladly did as he desired, and _Landolpho_ -returning her infinite thankes, for the loving 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 _Ravello_, hee fell on his knees, and -thanked God for all his mercies towards him. Then opening the sacke, -and viewing the Jewels 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 having 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 saved his life in a danger so dreadfull: The like -hee did to _Tranium_, to the Merchants that had newly cloathed him; -living richly upon the remainder, and never adventuring more to the -Sea, but ended his dayes in wealth and honour. - - - - -Andrea de Piero, _travelling 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 Novell. - -_Comprehending, how needfull a thing it is, for a man that travelleth -in affaires of the World, to be provident and well advised, and -carefully to keepe himselfe from the crafty and deceitfull allurements -of Strumpets._ - - -The precious Stones and Jewels found by _Landolpho_, maketh mee -to remember (said Madam _Fiammetta_, who was next to deliver 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 unto you. - -As I have heard reported by many, there sometime lived in _Perouse_ -or _Perugia_, 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 five hundred Crownes of gold in his purse, and -journeyed thither in the company of other Horse-coursers, arriving -there on a Sunday in the evening. According to instructions given him -by his Host, he went the next day into the Horse-market, where he saw -very many Horses that he liked, cheapening their prices as he went up -and downe, but could fall to no agreement; yet to manifest that he came -purposely to buy, and not as a cheapener onely, often times (like a -shalow-brainde trader in the world) he shewed his purse of gold before -all passengers, never respecting who, or what they were that observed -his follie. - -It came to passe, that a young _Sicillian_ wench (very beautifull, but -at commaund of whosoever would, and for small hire) passing then by, -and (without his perceiving) 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 _Sicillian_ also, who so soone as shee saw _Andrea_, knew him, -and, leaving her youthfull commodity, ranne to him, and embraced him -very kindly. Which when the younger Lasse perceived, 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 _Andreaes_ purse, upon the olde -womans comming backe to her (having 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 have 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 service. Calling -a young crafty Girle to her, whom she had well tutoured in the like -ambassages, when evening 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 favour. - -_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 (undoubtedly) 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 love 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 leaving 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 _Malpertuis_, a title manifesting sufficiently the streetes -honesty: but hee, having 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 up a faire payre of stayres, which he having more then -halfe ascended, the cunning young Queane gave a call to her Mistresse, -saying; _Signior 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 observing, & 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, even as if she were unable to -utter one word, seeming hindered by extremity of joy at his presence, -and to make him effectually admire her extraordinary kindnesse, having -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 novice 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 marvell 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 never heard any Speeches of me: but you shall -instantly receive from mee matter to augment your greater marvell, -meeting heere with your owne sister, beyond all hope or expectation in -either of us both. But seeing that Heaven hath beene so gracious to me, -to let mee see one of my brethren before I die (though gladly I would -have seene them all) which is some addition of comfort to me, and that -which (happily) thou hast never heard before, in plaine and truest -manner, I will reveale unto thee. - -_Piero_, my Father and thine, dwelt long time (as thou canst not chuse -but to have understood) 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 loving 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 love him; so that forgetting the feare of her -Father, brethren, yea, and her owne honour, they became so privately -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, -never after (for ought that I could learne) once remembring either -her or me: so that (if he had not beene my Father) I could have much -condemned him, in regard of his ingratitude to my Mother, and love -which hee ought to have 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 (moved -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, gave mee in -marriage to one of the _Gergentes_ Family, a Gentleman, and of great -revenewes, who in his love 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 discovered to _Fredericke_ King of _Arragon_, before their intent -could be put in execution, whereupon, we were enforced to flie from -_Sicilie_, even when my hope stood fairely to have beene the greatest -Lady in all the Iland. Packing up then such few things as wee could -take with us, 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 us, that recompencing -the greater part of our losses, he bestowed Lands and Houses on us -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 delivered, composed from -point to point, with such likely protestations, without faltring or -failing in any one words utterance; 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 -upon her silence, thus he replied. Lady, let it not seeme strange to -you, that your words have raised marvell in me, because (indeede) I -had no knowledge of you, even no more then as if I had never seene -you, never also having heard my Father to speake either of you or your -Mother (for some considerations best knowne to himselfe) or if at any -time he used such language, either my youth then, or defective memory -since, hath utterly lost it. But truly, it is no little joy 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 soever, but you may well -beseeme his acceptance, much rather then mine, that am but a meane -Merchant. But faire sister, I desire to be resolved in one thing, to -wit, by what meanes you had understanding 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 (having 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 have 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 whatsoever shee saide, farre better then before. - -Their conference having 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 have 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 perceive brother, how little account you make of me, -considering, you are with your owne Sister, who (you say) you never 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. Beleeve 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 love you as a Sister -ought to be loved, 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 untill I come. For that (quoth shee) we -have a present remedy, one of my servants shal goe and give warning, -whereby they shall not tarry your comming. Albeit, you might doe me a -great kindnesse, to send for your friends to sup with us 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 urged him so farre, he would -stay to sup with her, and referred himselfe solely to her disposition. - -Ceremonious shew was made, of sending a servant to the Inne, for not -expecting _Andreas_ presence at Supper, though no such matter was -performed; but, after divers other discoursings, the table being -covered, 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 leave, she would (by no meanes) suffer it, -but tolde him that _Naples_ was a Citie of such strict Lawes and -Ordinances, as admitted no night-walkers, although they were Natives, -much lesse strangers, but punished them with great severity. 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 give 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, leaving _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 underneath the beds boulster, as -seeming carefull of his money. But finding a provocation 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 upon a board, -which was fastened at neither ende to the joynts 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 receive no harme in the fall (although it was of extraordinary -height) onely the filth of the place, (it being over full) had fowly -myred him. - -Now for your better understanding the quality of the place, and what -ensued thereupon, it is not unnecessary to describe it, according to -a common use observed in those parts. There was a narrow passage or -entrie, as often we see reserved betweene two houses, for eithers -benefit to such a needfull place; and boards loosely lay upon the -joynts, which such as were acquainted withall, could easily avoide any -perill, in passing to or from the stoole. But our so newly created -brother, not dreaming to find a queane to his Sister, receiving 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, who intended not to give 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 under the beds -head, shee needed no instruction for search in his pockets. But having -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_ perceiving, 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 understanding his error, though somewhat too late, hee -made such meanes constrainedly, that he got over a wall, which severed -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 have I lost a Sister, and -five hundred Crownes besides? with many other words, loude calles, and -beatings upon the doore without intermission, the neighbours finding -themselves diseased, and unable 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 knave, 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 us to sleepe I pray thee. How now (quoth -_Andrea_) doest thou not understand 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 give 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 recovery, which moving him to the more impatience, his former -intercessions became converted into fury, and what hee could not -compasse by faire entreats, he entended to winne by outrage and -violence, so that taking up a great stone in his hand, hee layed -upon 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 used those -counterfeit 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 reprove him, even 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 unseasonable time of the night. For Gods sake -(good man) be gone, and let us sleepe; if thou have 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 up, 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 received in no honest -quarels, yawning also and stretching, as angry to have 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 -never better beaten in all thy life, like a drunken slave and beast as -thou art, that all this night wilt not let us 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 ugly sight of the Ruffian, incited also by the neighbours -counsell, whom he imagined to advise 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 offensive to himselfe: that, -desiring to wash him at the Sea side, he strayed too farre wide on the -contrary hand, wandring up the streete called _Ruga Gatellana_. - -Proceeding on still, even 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 stept 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 divers 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 -ever I felt in all my life. So, lifting up 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 having now no other evasion, but that (of necessity) all -must out: hee related to them the whole adventure, 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, beleeve 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 againe the least -doyt of thy losse. And for that shag-haird Slave in the house, he will -be thy deaths-man, if he but understand, 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, wherefore, if thou wilt friendly associate us, 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 adventure 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 Minutolo_, in his richest pontificall -roabes and ornaments, and a Ruby on his finger, valued to be worth five -hundred duckets of gold: this dead body they purposed to rob and rifle, -acquainting _Andrea_ with their whole intent, whose necessity (coupled -with a covetous desire) made him more forward then well advised, to -joyne with them in this sacriligious enterprise. On they went towards -the great Church, _Andreaes_ unsavourie perfume much displeasing them, -whereupon the one said to his fellow. Can we devise no ease for this -foule and noysome inconvenience? the very smell of him will be a meanes -to betray us. 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 up 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, perceiving -the Watch so neere upon them: left _Andrea_ in the Pit to shift for -himselfe, running away to shelter themselves. Their flight was not -discovered by the Watch, but they comming to the Well-pit, _Andrea_ -remained still in the bottome, and having cleansed himselfe so well as -hee could, sate wagging the rope, expecting when hee should be haled -up. 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 up the rope, thinking the Bucket was fastened thereto, and -full of water. _Andrea_ being haled up 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 up 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 have 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 mervaile 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 -resolve 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 up, for feare of whom they left him, and so declared to -him the reason of their returne. - -Leaving 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 cover-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 -advised what thou sayest, for, if thou wilt not goe in: we will so beat -thee with one of these yron crowes, that thou shalt never goe out of -this Church alive. - -Thus poore _Andrea_ is still made a property, and Fortune (this fatall -night) will have no other foole but he, as delighting in his hourly -disasters. Feare of their fury makes him obedient, into the grave he -goes, and being within, thus consults with himselfe. These cunning -companions suppose me to be simple, & make me enter the Tombe, having -an absolute intention to deceive me. For, when I have given 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 leaving -me here, not onely shall I loose my right among them, but must remaine -to what danger may follow after. Having thus meditated, he resolved -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, Gloves and all, leaving him -nothing but his shirt, giving them all these severall parcels; -protesting, that there was nothing else. Still they pressed upon him, -affirming that there was a Ring beside, urging 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 up in the grave. Which -when he perceived, 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 utmost strength he -employeth, to remove that over-heavy hinderer of his liberty: but all -his labour beeing spent in vaine, sorrow threw him in a swoond upon -the Byshoppes dead body, where if both of them might at that instant -have bene observed, 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 unavoydable extremities. Dye -starving must he in the tombe, with putrifaction of the dead body; or -if any man came to open the Grave, then must he be apprehended as a -sacrilegious Theefe, and so be hanged, according to the lawes in that -case provided. - -As he continued in these strange afflictions of minde, sodainely hee -heard a noise in the Church of divers men, who (as he imagined) came -about the like businesse, as hee and his fellowes had undertaken -before; wherein he was not a jot deceived, albeit his feare the more -augmented. Having opened the Tombe, and supported the stone, they -varied also among themselves 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-liver'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. Having 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 upright in the Tombe, and desiring to make use 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 divels. _Andrea_ -little dreaming on such fortunate successe, made meanes to get out of -the grave, and afterward forth of the Church, at the very same place -where he entred. - -Now began day-light to appeare, when hee, having the rich Ring on his -finger, wandred on hee knew not whether: till comming to the Sea-side, -he found the way directing to his Inne, where all his company were -with his Host, who had bene very carefull for him. Having related his -manifold mischances, his Hoste friendly advised him with speede to get -him out of _Naples_. As instantly he did, returning home to _Perouse_, -having adventured his five hundred Crownes on a Ring, where-with hee -purposed to have bought Horses, according to the intent of his journey -thither. - - - - -_Madame Beritola Caracalla, was found in an Island with two Goates, -having lost her two Sonnes, and thence travailed into Lunigiana: where -one of her Sonnes became servant to the Lord thereof, and was found -somewhat over-familiar 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 Novell. - -_Heerein all men are admonished, never to distrust the powerfull hand -of Heaven, when Fortune seemeth to be most adverse against them._ - - -The Ladies and Gentlemen also, having smiled sufficiently at the -severall accidents which did befall the poore Traveller _Andrea_, -reported at large by Madame _Fiammetta_, the Lady _Æmillia_, seeing her -tale to be fully concluded, began (by commandement of the Queene) to -speake in this manner. - -The diversitie of changes and alterations in Fortune as they are great, -so must they needs be greevous; and as often as we take occasion to -talk of them, as often do they awake and quicken our understandings, -avouching, that it is no easie matter to depend upon her flatteries. -And I am of opinion, that to heare them recounted, ought not any way -to offend us, be it of men wretched or fortunate; because, as they -enstruct the one with good advise, so they animate the other with -comfort. And therefore, although great occasions have 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 beleeve, -that ever any sorrow was more joyfully sweetened. - -You must understand then (most gracious Ladies) that after the death -of _Fredericke_ the second Emperour, one named _Manfred_, was crowned -King of _Sicilie_, about whom lived 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 government of the Kingdome of -_Sicilie_, and understanding, that King _Charles_ the first, had wonne -the battle of _Beneventum_, and slaine King _Manfred_; the whole -Kingdome revolting also to his devotion, and little trust to be reposed -in the _Sicillians_, or he willing to subject himselfe to his Lords -enemy; provided for his secret flight from thence. But this being -discovered to the _Sicillians_, he and many more, who had beene loyall -servants 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 inconveniences which afterward followed; being overcome -with many passionate considerations, having 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_. - -Having provided 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 favour their -voyage. - -As the rest, so did Madam _Beritola_ goe on shore in the Iland, where -having 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, unseene by any of the Marriners, or whosoever -else: there arrived 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 perceyved, -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 uppon the shore. - -Now was not any body neere, with coole water or any other remedy, to -helpe the recovery 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 Caves, Dennes, and every 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 respective of her -selfe, & therefore departing from the sea-shore, she returned to the -solitary place, where she used to sigh and mourne alone by her selfe. - -The night being over-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 travailes. 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 hearbes so well as she could, not without many piercing -afflictions, what should become of her in this extraordinary misery. As -shee walked in these pensive meditations, she saw a Goate enter into -a Cave, 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 delivery in child-bed; wherefore shee lay downe unto 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 lovingly as their dammes, and from that time forward, they made -no distinguishing betweene their damme and her. Thus this unfortunate -Lady, having 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 manner. Here shee resolved now to live and -dye, being at last deprived both of the damme and yonger Kids also, by -theyr wandering further into the neere adjoining Woods, according to -their Naturall inclinations; whereby the poore distressed Lady became -more savage and wilde in her daily conditions, then otherwise shee -would have bene. - -After many monthes were over-passed, at the very same place where -she tooke landing; by chance, there arrived another small vessell of -certaine _Pisans_, which remained there divers 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, -having 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, servants, and waiting -hounds, wandered up 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 themselves thus pursued -by the hounds, fled to no other part of the wood, then to the Cave -where _Beritola_ remained, and seeming as if they sought to be rescued -only by her, she sodainly caught up 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 -(upon her request) _Conrado_ had checkt back his hounds, they prevailed -so much by earnest intreaties, to know what she was, and the reason of -her living there; that she intirely related her quality, unfortunate -accidents, and strange determination for living 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 ever -she had done before. - -When these gentle offers could not prevaile 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 wives, 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 Cave altogether, prettily playing before _Beritola_, to the great -admiration of _Conrado_ and his wife, as also the servants attending on -them. - -When the windes and weather grew favourable for them, Madam _Beritola_ -went aboard with _Conrado_ and his wife, being followed by the two -young Goates and their 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 River 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 division of their -booties. It came to passe, that (among other things) the Nurse that -attended on _Beritola_, and the two Children with her, fell to the -share of one _Messer Gasparino d'Oria_, who sent them together to his -owne House, there to be employed in service as servants. 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 utterly fruitlesse -and to none effect, though she was used as a servant with them, and -being but a very poore woman, yet was shee wise and discreetly advised. -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 advantaged thereby. - -Hereupon, hoping that Fortune (early or late) would alter her stearne -malice, and that they might (if they lived) regaine once more their -former condition: shee would not disclose them to any one whatsoever, -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, naming the eldest not _Geoffrey_, -but _Jehannot de Procida_. [Sidenote: Or Grannotto da Prochyta.] As -for the youngest, shee cared not greatly for changing his name, and -therefore wisely enformed _Geoffrey_, upon what reason shee had altered -his name, and what danger he might fall into, if he should otherwise -be discovered; 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 observe. - -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 _Jehannot_, aged already about sixteene yeeres, having a loftier -spirit, then belonged to a slavish servant, despising the basenesse -of his servile 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 advancement. In the ende, about three or foure yeares after -his departure from _Gasparino_, being now a brave young man, and of -very goodly forme: he understood, that his Father (whom he supposed -to be dead) was as yet living; but in captivity, 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 servant to _Messer Conrado Malespina_, -where the service proved 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. _Jehannot_ being thus in the service 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 above sixteene; growing wonderously amorous of _Jehannot_, and -he of her, in extraordinary and most fervent manner; which love was not -long without full effect, continuing many moneths before any person -could perceive 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 providently -managed. - -Upon a day, he and shee walking to a goodly wood, plentifully furnished -with spreading Trees, having 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 -over-short to them, yet was it so unadvisedly prolonged; that they -were on a sudden surprized, first by the Mother, and next by _Messer -Conrado_ himselfe: who greeving beyond measure, to be thus trecherously -dealt withall, caused them to be apprehended by three of his servants, -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, having heard the angry words -of her Husband, and how hee would be revenged on the faultie; could -not endure that he should be so severe: 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, and 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 servant. -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 used such plenty of -mooving 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 uneasiest, -untill hee should otherwise determine of them, and so it was done. What -their life now was in captivity and continuall teares, with stricter -abstinence then was needefull for them; all this I must commit to your -consideration. - -_Jehannot_ 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 John de Procida_, caused the Isle of _Sicily_ to -revolt, and tooke it away from King _Charles_, whereat _Conrado_ (he -being of the _Ghibbiline_ faction) not a little rejoyced. _Jehannot_ -having intelligence thereof, 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 have already gone begging through the -world above 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 never 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 _Jehannot_ sighed extreamly, and returned him this answer. -Me thinkes my heart (quoth hee) doth cleave 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 Governour there, at such time as King _Manfred_ lived. The Guard, -pursuing on still his purpose, demanded of him, what, and who his -Father was? My Father (replyed _Jehannot_) I may now securely speake of -him, being out of the perill which neerely concerned me if I had beene -discovered. He was the named (and so still if he be living) _Henriet -Capece_, and my name is _Geoffrey_, not _Jehannot_; and I make no -doubt, but if I were 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 having heard these newes (albeit he made no shew -thereof to the revealer) 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 -living, 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 prove so: he might have the -better meanes of mercie, and closely concealing his daughters shame, -joyfully joyne them in marriage together. - -Hereupon he secretly caused _Jehannot_ 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. -_Jehannot_, thou knowest how great the injuries are which thou hast -done me, & my deare daughter, gently entreating thee (as became a good -& honest servant) that thou shouldest alwayes have bin respective of -mine honour, and all that do appertain unto me. There are many noble -Gentlemen, who sustaining the wrong which thou hast offred me, they -would have procured thy shameful death, which pitty & compassion will -not suffer in me. Wherefore seeing (as thou informest me) that thou art -honourably derived both by father & mother; I will give end to all thine -anguishes, even when thy self art so pleased, releasing thee from the -misery & captivity, wherein I have so long time kept thee, and in one -instant, reduce thine honour & mine into compleat perfection. As thou -knowest, my Daughter _Spina_, whom thou hast embraced in kindnesse as -a friend (although farre unfitting 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 misshapen _Jehannot_ in his outward forme, -but not impaired a jot of that noble spirit, really derived from his -famous progenitors, much lesse the true love 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 -resolved judgement, thus replied. My Lord, affectation of rule, desire -of wealthy possessions, or any other matter whatsoever, could never -make me a traytor to you or yours; but that I have loved, do love & for -ever shal love your beautious daughter; if that be treason, I freely -confesse it, & will die a thousand deaths, before you or any else shal -enforce me to denie it; for I hold her highly worthy of my love. If I -have bin more unmannerly with her, then became me, according to the -opinion of vulgar judgment, I have committed but that error, which -evermore is so attendant upon youth; that to denie it, is to denie -youth also. And if reverend age would but remember, that once he was -young, & measure others offences by his own; they would not be thought -so great or greevous, as you (& many more) account them to be, mine -being committed as a friend, & not as an enemy: what you make offer -of so willingly to do, I have alwayes desired, & if I had thought it -would have bin granted, long since I had most humbly requested it; and -so much the more acceptable would it have 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 love to your Daughter -_Spina_, maketh mee to love you the more for her sake; how hardly -soever you entreate me, & bindeth me in the greater reverence 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 fervent to his Daughter, which was not 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 meager, 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 _Jehannot_; 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) having -furnished them with all things fit for the purpose, and time aptly -serving, that the Mothers should be partakers in this joy; 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 unto 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 unto 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 Love, 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 joyfull. So when the amorous couple had recovered their former -feature, and honourable garments were prepared for them, privately thus -he said to _Geoffrey_; Beyond the joy which already thou art inriched -withall, how would it please thee to meet with thine owne Mother here? -I cannot beleeve Sir, replied _Geoffrey_, that her greevous misfortunes -have suffered her to live so long: yet notwithstanding, if Heaven -hath beene so merciful to her, my joyes were incomparable, for by her -gracious counsell, I might well hope to recover no meane happinesse in -_Sicilie_. Within a while after, both the Mothers were sent for, who -were transported with unspeakable joyes, 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, -joyning _Jehannot_ in mariage with _Spina_. Hereupon Madam _Beritola_, -remembring the speeches between her and _Conrado_, began to observe -him very advisedly, and by a hidden vertue, which long had silently -slept in her, and now with joy 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 joy and pitty now contended so violently together, that shee -was not able to utter one word, the sensitive vertues being so closely -combined, that (even 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. Neverthelesse, -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 understanding, that he had not -before beene better advised, he threw his armes about her, and wept -exceedingly. - -Afterward, by the loving paines of _Conradoes_ wife, as also her -daughter _Spina_, Madam _Beritola_ (being recovered 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 over and over, to no little joy in all the beholders, beside -repetition of their severall 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_ having found out fit place and -opportunity, for conference with his new created Father, without any -sinister opposition; began as followeth. - -Honourable Father, you have raised my contentment to the highest -degree, and have heaped also many gracious favours on my noble Mother; -but now in the finall conclusion, that nothing may remaine uneffected, -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 have my Brother present. _Messer Gasparino -d'Oria_ (as I have once heretofore told you) questing as a common -Pyrate on the Seas, tooke us, and sent us home to his house as slaves, -where (as yet he detaineth him.) I would have you likewise send one -into _Sicilie_, who informing himselfe more amply in the state of -the Country; may understand what is become of _Henriet_ my Father, -and whether he be living or no. If he remaine alive, 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 _Genewaye_, and the other to _Sicilie_: -he which went for _Geneway_, having met with _Gasparino_, earnestly -entreated him, (on the behalfe of _Conrado_) to send him the _Poore -expelled_; and his Nurse recounting every thing in order, which -_Conrado_ had tolde him, concerning _Geoffrey_ and his Mother: when -_Gasparino_ had heard the whole discourse, he marvelled greatly -thereat, and saide; True it is, that I will doe any thing for _Messer -Conrado_, which may be to his love and liking, provided, 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 unto him. But you may tell him from me, that I -advise him from over-rash crediting the fables of _Jehannot_, that now -tearms 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. - -Having thus spoken, and giving kinde welcome to the Messenger, -secretly he called the Nurse unto him, whom he heedfully examined -concerning this case. Shee having heard the rebellion in the Kingdome -of _Sicilie_, and understanding withall, that _Henriet_ was yet living; -joyfully threw off all her former feare, relating every thing to him -orderly, and the reasons moving her, to conceale the whole businesse -in such manner as shee had done. _Gasparino_ well perceiving, that the -report of the Nurse, and the message received 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 devise, and finding -every thing to yeeld undoubted assurance; ashamed of the vile and base -usage, 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 living, he gave her to him in marriage, with -a very bountifull and honourable dowry. - -The joviall 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 joy of the Brethren and -Mother together, having also found the faithfull Nurse, _Gasparino_ -and his Daughter, in company now with _Conrado_ and his Wife, friends, -familiars, and all generally in a Jubilee of rejoycing: 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 universall joy; our Lord, a -most aboundant bestower where he beginneth, added long wished tydings, -concerning the life and good estate of _Henriet Capece_. For, even as -they were feasting, and the concourse great of worthy guests, both of -Lords and Ladies: the first service was scarcely set on the Tables, but -the Ambassador which was sent to _Sicilie_, arrived 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 let 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 delivery of publike -joy and exaltation, when his Wife and Sonne were knowne to be living, -of whom no tydings had at any time beene heard, since the houre of his -surprizall. Moreover, that a swift winged Barke was now sent thither -(upon 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 favours came unlooked for) -with certaine assurance, that when _Henriet_ should understand what hee -had done for his other Sonne, the _Poore expelled_; there would be no -defailance of riciprocall courtesies. - -As the longest joyes have no perpetuity of lasting, so all these -gracefull ceremonies had their conclusion, with as many sighes and -teares at parting, as joyes abounded at their first encountring. -Imagine then, that you see such aboard, as were to have here no longer -abiding, Madam _Beritola_ and _Geoffrey_, with the rest, as the _Poore -expelled_, the so late married Wives, and the faithfull Nurse bearing -them company. With prosperous windes they arrived in _Sicilie_, where -the Wife, Sonnes, and Daughters, were joyfully met by _Henriet_ at -_Palermo_, and with such honourable pompe, as a case so important -equally deserved. The Histories make further mention, that there they -lived (a long while after) in much felicity, with thankfull hearts (no -doubt) to Heaven, in acknowledgement of so many great mercies received. - - - - -_The Soldan of Babylon sent one of his Daughters, to be joyned in -marriage with the King of_ Cholcos; _who by divers 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 seaventh Novell. - -_A lively demonstration, that the beauty of a Woman, (oftentimes) is -very hurtfull to her selfe, and the occasion of many evils, yea, and of -death, to divers men._ - - -Peradventure the Novell related by Madam _Æmilia_, did not extend it -selfe so farre in length, as it moved 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 (upon 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 us to take -intire knowledge of every thing we doe, because (as oftentimes hath -beene observed) many men, imagining if they were rich, they should -live securely, and without any cares. And therefore, not onely have -their prayers and intercessions aimed at that end, but also their -studies and daily endeavours, without refusall of any paines or perils -have not meanely expressed their hourely solicitude. And although it -hath happened accordingly to them, and their covetous desires fully -accomplished; yet at length they have met with such kinde of people, -who likewise thirsting after their wealthy possessions, have 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 adventuring in many skirmishes and foughten battels, trampling in -the bloud of their brethren and friends, have beene mounted to the -soveraigne dignity of Kingdomes, (beleeving that therein consisted the -truest happinesse) but bought with the dearest price of their lives. -For, beside their infinite cares and feares, wherewith such greatnesse -is continually attended, at their royall Tables, they have drunke -poyson in a golden pot. Many other in like manner (with most earnest -appetite) have coveted beauty and bodily strength, not foreseeing with -any judgement, that these wishes were not without perill; when being -endued with them, they either have 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 us mortals, with entire foresight or -providence, 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 us, and will bestow them at his good pleasure. Nor let me lay this -blamefull imputation upon men onely, for offending in many things -through over lavish desires: because you your selves (gracious Ladies) -sinne highly in one, as namely, in coveting to be beautifull. So that -it is not sufficient for you, to enjoy 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 adventures) within -the compasse of foure yeares, nine severall times to be maried, and -onely for her beauty. - -It is now a long time since, that there lived a Soldane in _Babylon_, -named _Beminidab_, to whom (while he lived) many things happened, -answerable to his owne desires. Among divers other children both male -and female, he had a daughter, called _Alathiella_, and shee (according -to the common voyce of every one that saw her) was the fayrest Lady -then living 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 kindly -granted to him. A goodly and well armed Ship was prepared for her, -with full furnishment of all necessary provision, and accompanied with -an honourable traine, both Lords and Ladies, as also most costly and -sumptuous accoustrements; commending her to the mercy of heaven, in -this manner was shee sent away. - -The time being propitious for their parting thence, the Mariners -hoised their sayles, leaving 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 journeyes -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, gave over -all hope of escaping with life. Neverthelesse, as men most expert -in implacable dangers, they laboured to their uttermost power, and -contended with infinite blustring tempests, for the space of two dayes -and nights together, hoping the third day would prove more favourable. -But therein they saw themselves deceived, 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 marivall judgement, or any apprehension else whatsoever, the heavens -were so clouded, and the nights darknesse so extreame. - -Being (unknowne to them) neere the Isle of _Majorica_, they felt the -Ship to split in the bottome, by meanes whereof, perceiving now no hope -of escaping (every one caring for himselfe, and not any other) they -threw forth a Squiffe on the troubled waves, 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 prevailed, that what with the tempests violence, and -over-lading of the Squiffe, it sunke to the bottome, and all perished -that were therein. 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 driven into a strand of the Isle -_Majorica_, no other persons remaining therein; but onely the Lady -and her women, all of them (through the rude tempest, and their owne -conceived 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 up 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 jogging one, and then another, and calling them severally by -their names; shee found them bereft of understanding, and even as -if they were dead, their hearts were so quailed, and their feare so -over-ruling, which was no meane dismay to the poore Lady her selfe. -Neverthelesse, necessity now being her best counsallour, seeing her -selfe thus all alone, and not knowing in what place she was, she used -such meanes to them that were living, that (at the last) they came -better to knowledge of themselves. And being unable to guesse, what -was become of the men and Mariners, seeing the Ship also driven on the -sands, and filled with water: she began (with them) to lament most -grievously, 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 -urgent a necessity. - -At length, noone being past, a Gentleman, named _Bajazeth_, attended -by divers of his followers on horseback, and returning from a Country -house belonging to him, chanced to ride by on the sands. Upon 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 resolve his Lord what remayned therein. There -hee found the faire young Lady, with such small store of company as -was left her, fearefully hidden under the prow of the Ship. So soone -as they saw him, they held up their hands, wofully desiring mercy -of him: but he perceiving their lamentable condition, and that hee -understoode not what they said to them; their affliction grew the -greater, labouring by signes and gestures, to give him knowledge of -their misfortune. - -The servant, gathering what he could by their outward behaviour, -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 gave them comfort. By the rich garments which -the Lady was cloathed withall, hee reputed her to be a Gentlewoman -well derived, as the great reverence done to her by the rest, gave him -good reason to conceive. 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 lovely in the eye of -_Bajazeth_, whereupon forthwith he determined, that if she were not -maried, he would enjoy 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. - -_Bajazeth_ was a man of sterne lookes, rough and harsh both in speech -and behaviour: yet causing the Lady to be honourably used divers dayes -together, she became thereby well comforted and recovered. And seeing -her beauty to exceede all comparison, he was afflicted beyond measure, -that he could not understand 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 endeavour proved to no purpose, -for shee refused all familiar privacie with him, which so much the -more kindled the fury of his desire. This being well observed by the -Lady, having 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 advantage -her, beside, that long protraction of time would provoke _Bajazeth_, by -faire meanes or force to obtaine his will: she propounded to her selfe -(with magnanimity of spirit) to tread all misfortunes under her feete, -commaunding her women (whereof she had but three now remaining alive) -that they should not disclose what she was; except it were in some -such place, where manifest signes might yeeld hope of regaining their -liberty. Moreover, shee admonished them, stoutly to defend their honour -and chastity, affirming, that shee had absolutely resolved with her -selfe, that never any other should enjoy her, but her intended husband; -wherein her women did much commend her, promising to preserve their -reputation, according as she had commanded. - -Day by day were the torments of _Bajazeth_ wonderfully augmented, yet -still his kinde offers scornefully refused, and he as farre off from -compassing his desires, as when hee first began to moove the matter: -wherefore, perceiving that all faire courses served to no effect, hee -resolved to compasse his purpose by craft and subtilty, reserving -rigorous extremity for his finall conclusion. And having once observed, -that wine was very pleasing to the Lady, she being never used to drinke -any at all, because (by her Countries law) it was forbidden her, and no -meane store having beene lately brought to _Bajazeth_ in a Barke of -_Geneway_: hee resolved to surprize her by meanes thereof, as a chiefe -Minister of _Venus_, to heate the coolest blood. And seeming now in his -outward behaviour, as if he had given over his amorous pursuite, and -which she strove by all her best endeavours to withstand: one night, -after a very majestick and solemne manner, he prepared a delicate and -sumptuous supper, whereto the Lady was invited: and hee had given -order, that hee who attended on her Cup, should serve her with many -wines compounded and mingled together, which hee accordingly performed, -as being cunning enough in such occasions. - -_Alathiella_, mistrusting 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 adversities, became very frollick and merry: so that seeing -some women daunce after the manner observed therein _Majorica_, she -also fell to dauncing, according to the _Alexandrian_ custome. Which -when _Bajazeth_ beheld, he imagined the victory to be more then halfe -wone, and his hearts desire very neere the obtaining: plying her still -with wine upon wine, and continuing this revelling the most part of -the night. At the length, the invited guests being all gone, the -Lady retired then to her chamber, attended on by none but _Bajazeth_ -himselfe, and as familiarly, as if hee had beene one of her women, shee -no way contradicting his bold intrusion, so faire had wine over-gone -her sences, and prevailed against all modest bashfulnesse. These -wanton embracings, strange to her that had never tasted them before, -yet pleasing beyond measure, by reason of his trecherous advantage: -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 ever ought to attend on Ladies. - -Now, Fortune envying 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 _Bajazeth_ had a Brother, -aged about five 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 behaviour and civill apparancie, -highly to deserve his very best opinion, for she was not meanely entred -into his favour. 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 _Bajazeth_ 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 _Smirna_, of which Ship two _Geneway_ Merchants -(being brethren) were the Patrones and owners, who had given direction -for hoysing the sayles, to depart thence when the winde should serve. -With these two _Genewayes Amurath_ had covenanted, for himselfe to goe -abord the Ship the night ensuing, and the Lady in his company. When -night was come, having resolved with himselfe what was to be done: -in a disguised habite hee went to the house of _Bajazeth_, 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 -themselves closely in the house. After some part of the night was -over-past, hee knowing the severall lodgings both of _Bajazeth_ 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 Jewels belonging to _Bajazeth_, unheard or undescried -by anybody, they went presently to the Port, and there, without any -further delay, _Amurath_ and the Lady were received into the Ship, but -his companions returned backe againe; when the Mariners, having 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 _Bajazeth_ was quickly forgotten, and shee -became converted to lovely demeanour, even when Fortune prepared a -fresh misery for her, as not satisfied with those whereof shee had -tasted already. The Lady being enriched with unequalled beauty (as wee -have often related before) her behaviour 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 loves extremity each to the -other, and plainely perceived, that though they were equally in their -fiery torments, yet their desires were utterly contrary: they began -severally to consider, that gaine gotten by Merchandize, admitted -an equall and honest division, but this purchase was of a different -quality, pleading the title of a sole possession, without any partner -or intruder. Fearefull and jealous 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 upon the deck, -studiously observing, 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 above halfe a leagues distance, before any perceived his fall into -the Sea. - -When the Lady heard thereof, and saw no likely meanes of recovering -him againe, she fell to her wonted teares and lamentations: but the -two Lovers came quickly to comfort her, using kinde words and pithie -perswasions (albeit shee understood them not, or at the most very -little) to appease the violence of her passions; and, to speake -uprightly, shee did not so much bemoane the loss of _Amurath_, as -the multiplying of her owne misfortunes, still one succeeding in the -necke of another. After divers long and well delivered Orations, -as also very faire and courteous behaviour, they had indifferently -pacified her complaynings: they began to discourse and commune with -themselves, which of them had most right and title to _Alathiella_, and -(consequently) ought to enjoy her. Now that _Amurath_ was gone, each -pleaded his priviledge to be as good as the others, both in the Ship, -goods, and all advantages else whatsoever happening: which the elder -brother absolutely denied, alleadging first his propriety of birth, -a reason sufficient, whereby his younger ought to give 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 justice -to be highest preferred. Last of all, that his strength onely threw -_Amurath_ into the Sea, and therefore gave 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 -receiving so many perilous hurts, remained (neverthelesse) living. This -unhappy 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 severity of -punishment. But the earnest entreaties of the wounded surviver, and -their arrivall at _Smirna_ soone after, delivered him from the danger -of death, gave 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 urgent -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, understanding in what manner shee was brought thither, he -devised 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 have inflicted on her. - -The Prince perceiving, that beside her matchlesse beauty, shee had -the true character of royall behaviour; greeved 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 motive to set a keener edge on his affection towards her, -yet not to enjoy her as in honourable and loving 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 private and publike conference -in all _Natolia_, that (welneere) there was no other discourse, in any -Assembly whatsoever. - -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 under 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 Prince solliciting the Duke thereto -very earnestly, they both went together to see her; and shee having -before heard of their comming, adorned her selfe the more majestically, -entertaining them with ceremonious demeanour (after her Countries -custome) which gave most gracious and unspeakable 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 understood not any part of her language: -so that they could have no other conference, but by lookes and outward -signes onely; and the more they beheld her, the more they marvelled at -her rare perfections, especially the Duke, who hardly credited that -shee was a mortall creature. Thus not perceiving, 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 love (beyond all measure) with her. When the -Prince and he were parted from her, and hee was at his owne private -amorous meditations in his Chamber; he reputed the Prince far happier -then any man else whatsoever, by the enjoying of such a peerelesse -beauty. - -After many intricate and distracted cogitations, which molested his -braines incessantly, regarding more his loves wanton heate, then -reason, kindred, and honourable hospitality; he resolutely determined -(whatsoever ensued thereupon) to bereave 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, justice, 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 conveyed -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. Having -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 observe, that the Pallace was seated on the Sea shore, -and very high, and the window whereat the Prince then stood looking -foorth, was directly over divers 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 having 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 having 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 never spake one word after, and so threw him downe -after the Prince. - -This done, and plainely perceiving 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 Majesty? Being no way daunted by his so late committed -sinne, but swimming rather in surfet of joy, his hands all bloody, -and his soule much more uglie; 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, nor opening her eyes to be otherwise -resolved. 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 having his agents at hand fit and convenient 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 -themselves had entred, laying her in a Princely litter; away they went -with all possible speede, not tarrying in any place, untill they were -arrived 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 -served in most honourable manner. - -The Gentlemen usually attending on the Prince, having 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 privately 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 relied 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 _Churiacy_: 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 mervaile, 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 majesticke pomp -that might bee. - -Upon further inquisition, who should commit so horrid a deed, -perceyving likewise, that the Duke of _Athens_ was not to be found, but -was closely gone: they judged (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 -Soveraigne, inciting him to revenge so horrid a wrong, and promising to -assist him with their utmost 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 neighbours, kindred, and friends, -collected from divers 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 levied 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 force, who were most honourably welcommed and -entertained by the Duke, but much more by the Dutchesse, because she -was their sister in law. - -Military provision thus proceeding on daily more and more, the Dutches -making choise of a fit and convenient 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 thereof, and complaining very earnestly unto them, entreated -that for the Dukes honour, and her comfort, they would give 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 leave, and parted from her. Often -they had heard the Lady much commended, and her incomparable beauty -highly extolled, yea, even by the Duke himselfe; which made them the -more desirous to see her: wherefore earnestly they solicited him, to -let them have a sight of her, and he (forgetting what happened to the -Prince, by shewing her so unadvisedly 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 small train, away they rode to dine with her. - -_Constantine_ being seated at the Table, he began (as one confounded -with admiration) to observe her judiciously, affirming secretly to his -soule that he had never seene so compleat a woman before; and allowing -it for justice, that the Duke, or any other whosoever, if (to enjoy -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 upon 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 utterly abandoned; no other -thoughts could come neerer him, but how to bereave the Duke of her, yet -concealing his love, 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: wherefore 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 divers dayes together, _Constantine_, who could thinke on nothing -else, but the beautifull Lady, considered with himselfe, that while the -Duke was now 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 leaving all his power -to his Cousen _Emanuel_) forthwith he journeyed backe to _Athens_. -After some conference had with his sister, concerning her dishonourable -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 never 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 provided, that it -might be performed in such sort, as the Duke her Husband should -never understand, that ever shee gave any consent thereto, which -_Constantine_ sware unto her by many deep oathes, whereby she referred -all to his owne disposition. _Constantine_ hereupon secretly prepared -in readinesse a subtill Barke, sending it (in an evening) neere to the -garden where the Lady resorted; having 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 servants, 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, upon a signe given by him to one of his -complices, the Barke was brought close to the shore, and the Lady being -suddenly seized on, was immediately conveyed into it; and he returning -backe to her people, with his sword drawne in his hand, saide: Let no -man stirre, 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 -arrived at _Melasso_. There they tooke landing, and reposed on shore -for some few dayes, _Constantine_ labouring to comfort the Lady, even -as if shee had been his owne Sister, shee having 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 -behaviour used 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 jot 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 lasciviously -_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 provided ships, his men & he entred the Towne, & -surprized many people in their beds, before they knew of their enemies -comming, killing such as stood upon 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 brave and -gallant young man, upon a review of the pillage; found the faire Lady, -whom hee knew to be the beloved 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 lived there in great joy 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 upon _Osbech_, and hee would assault -him with his power on the other. But he could not so conveniently bring -this to passe, because the Emperour would not yeeld to _Bassano_, in -any unreasonable matter he demanded. Neverthelesse, when he understood -what had happened to his Son (for whom his griefe was beyond all -measure) he granted the King of _Cappadociaes_ request, solliciting -him with all instancy, to be the more speedy in assailing _Osbech_. -It was not long, before hee heard of this conjuration made against -him; and therefore speedily mustered up all his forces, ere he would -be encompassed by two such potent Kings, and marched on to meete the -King of _Cappadocia_, leaving his Lady and Wife, (for her safety) at -_Laiazzo_, in the custodie of a true and loyall servant of his. - -Within a short while after, he drew neere the Campe belonging to the -King of _Cappadocia_, where boldly he gave 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_, every one yeelding him obeysance all the way as -he went. In the meane space, the servant 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 love 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 understood and could speake her language, a matter of no meane -comfort to her; who constrainedly had lived divers yeeres together, -in the state of a deafe or dumbe woman, because every where else they -understood her not, nor shee them, but by shewes and signes. - -This benefit of familiar conference, beganne to embolden his hopes, -elevate his courage, and make him seeme more youthfull in his owne -opinion, then any ability of body could speake unto him, or promise him -in the possession of her, who was so farre beyond him, and so unequall -to be enjoyed by him; yet to advance his hopes a great deale higher, -newes came, that _Osbech_ was vanquished and slaine, and that _Bassano_ -made everie where havocke of all: whereon they concluded together, not -to tarrie there any longer, but storing themselves 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 upon him dayly, hee determined, not onely -to leave 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 -unto them in this manner. - -Deare Love, and my most worthily respected friend, I perceive plainly -and infallibly, that I am drawing neere unto my end, which much -discontenteth me; because my hope was, to have lived longer in this -world, for the enjoying 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 ever dearest friend, and -you faire Lady, whom (since the very first sight of you) I loved and -honoured in my soule. Irksome and very grievous it is to me, that (if I -dye) I shall leave you here a stranger, without the counsaile and helpe -of any body: and yet much more offensive would it become, if I had not -such a friend as you here present, who I am faithfully perswaded, will -have the like care and respect of her (even for my sake) as of myselfe, -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 providence, 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 ever Nature framed. -If of these two things you will give 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 given over 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 gave 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: moving the Lady in the matter, to understand how shee stood -enclined, because urgent occasions called him thence to _Cyprus_. The -Lady made answere, that she was willing to passe thither with him, -hoping for the love hee bare to deceased _Antiochus_, that he would -respect her as his Sister. The Merchant was willing to give her any -contentment, but yet resolved her, that under the title of being his -Sister, it would be no warrant of security to them both; wherefore -hee rather advised 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 -injuries whatsoever. - -Being abord the Carrack, they had a Cabine and small bed conveniently -allowed them, where they slept together, that they might the better -be reputed as man and wife; for, to passe otherwise, would have 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 motive rather to incite chastity, then otherwise, -and so (I hope) you are perswaded of them. But howsoever, the windes -blewe merrily, the Carrack sayled lustily, and (by this time) they are -arrived 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 arrived 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 -service of the King of _Cyprus_, Fortune had beene very adverse 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 observed her the more advisedly, 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 conceive (upon the -very first sight of _Antigonus_) that she had formerly seene him in -_Alexandria_, serving her Father in place of great degree. Hereupon, -a suddaine hope perswaded her, that by the advice and furtherance of -this Gentleman, she should recover her wonted Royall condition: and -opportunity now aptly fitting her, by the absence of her pretended -Merchant husband, she sent for him, requesting to have 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 moreover: -Madame, me thinkes that I should know you, but I cannot remember -where I have 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 perceiving 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 mervaile) if -hee had never seene her in _Alexandria_? Upon these words, _Antigonus_ -knew her immediatly 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 reverence 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 -beleeved 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 have done; and I thinke my Father himselfe would wish it so, -if ever he should come to the knowledge thereof. With these words the -teares rained downe her faire cheekes: wherefore _Antigonus_ thus spake -unto her. Madame, discomfort not your selfe before you have 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 give you such -friendly advice as may stand you in sted, and no way be injurious to -you. - -Fetching a sigh, even as if her heart would have split in sunder, -thus she replyed. Ah _Antigonus_, me thinkes when I looke on thee, I -seeme to behold my royall Father, and therefore mooved with the like -religious zeale and charitable love, as (in duty) I owe unto him: I -will make knowne to thee, what I rather ought to conceale, and hide -from any person living. I know thee to bee honourable, discreete, and -truely wise, though I am a fraile, simple, and weake woman, therefore -I dare discover to thee, rather then any other that I know, by what -straunge and unexpected misfortunes, I have lived so long obscurely in -the world. And if in thy great and grave judgement (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 perceive it impossible to bee done, as -earnestly likewise I entreate thee, never to reveale to any living -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, even from her -shipwracke in the Sea of _Majorica_, until that very instant houre; -speaking them in such harsh manner as they hapned, and not sparing any -jot of them. - -_Antigonus_ being mooved to much compassion, declared how hee pitied -her by his teares, and having bene silent an indifferent while, as -considering in this case, what was best to be done, thus he began. -Madam, seeing you have past through such a multitude of misfortunes, -yet undiscovered, what and who you are: I will render you as blamelesse -to your Father, and estate you as fairely in his love, 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 further 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 honour, who have bene impoverished by your service, 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 arrived at _Baffa_, and to preserve 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 under my conduct, it will be great honour to you, and -no meane benefite to mee; which kindnesse will for ever be thankfully -remembred by the Soldan. - -The King in royall magnificence, replied sodainly, that he was highly -pleased with these good tydings; & having 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 revelling, performed in most Majesticke 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 -honour) all their demands. So, within few dayes after, upon her earnest -& instant request, with an honourable traine of Lords and Ladies, shee -was sent thence, and conducted all the way by _Antigonus_, untill she -came unto the Soldans Court. - -After some few dayes of her reposing there, the Soldan was desirous -to understand, how she could possibly live so long, in any Kingdome -or Province whatsoever, 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 given -her, answered her father in this manner. Sir, about the twentith day -after my departure from you, a verie terrible and dreadfull tempest -over-tooke us, so that in dead time of the night, our ship being split -in sunder upon the sands, neere to a place called _Varna_; what became -of all the men that were aboord, I neither know, or ever heard of. -Onely I remember, then when death appeared, and I being recovered 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 -upon us, 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 used me, rescued me from them, and forced them to flight. But -the foure horsemen, seeming (in my judgement) to bee persons of power -and authority, letting them go, came to mee, urging sundry questions -to me, which neither I understood, or they mine answers. After many -deliberations held among themselves, setting me upon one of their -horses, they brought me to a Monastery of religious women, according -to the custome of their law: and there, whatsoever they did or sayde, -I know not, but I was most benignely welcommed thither, and honoured -of them extraordinarily, where (with them in devotion) I dedicated -my selfe to the Goddesse of chastity, who is highly reverenced and -regarded among the women of that Countrey, and to her religious -service, 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 gave -me so much understanding, 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 urged) 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 observe 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 never repose -confidence in any that came for _Cyprus_; till two honest Gentlemen -of _France_, who hapned thither about two moneths since, accompanied -with their wives, one of them being a neere kinswoman to the Lady -Abbesse. And she well knowing, that they travelled in pilgrimage to -_Jerusalem_, to visit the holy Sepulcher, where (as they beleeve) that -he whom they held for their God was buried, after the Jewes had put him -to death: recommended me to their loving trust, with especial charge, -for delivering me to my Father in _Cyprus_. What honourable love and -respect I found in the company of those Gentlemen and their wives, -during our voyage backe to _Cyprus_: the history would be over-tedious -in reporting, neither is it much material to our purpose, because your -demand is to another end. - -Sayling on prosperously in our Ship, it was not long, before wee -arrived at _Baffa_, where being landed, and not knowing any person, -neither what I should say to the Gentlemen, who onely were carefull -for delivering me to my Father, according as they were charged by the -reverend Abbesse: it was the will of heaven 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 unto in our countrey Language, because I would not be understood -by the Gentlemen nor their wives, 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 wives, conducting me to the K. of -_Cyprus_, who received 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 will 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 wives, -she hath delivered nothing but trueth. Onely shee hath forgotten -somewhat worth the speaking, as thinking it not fit for her to utter, -because (indeede) it is not so convenient for her. Namely, how much -the Gentlemen and their wives (with whom she came) commended the rare -honesty and integrity of life, as also the unspotted vertue, wherein -she lived, among those chaste Religious women, as they constantly (both -with teares and solemne protestations) avouched 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 have -said so much, as (both by the reports, and mine owne understanding) may -give you faithfull assurance, to make your Royall vaunt; of having the -fayrest, most vertuous, and honest Lady to your Daughter, of any King -or Prince whatsoever. - -The Soldane was joyfull beyond all measure, welcomming both him and -the rest in most stately manner, oftentimes entreating the Gods very -heartily, that he might live to requite them with equall recompence, -who had so graciously honoured his daughter: but (above all the rest) -the King of _Cyprus_, who sent her home so majestically. And having -bestowne great gifts on _Antigonus_, within a few dayes after, hee gave -him leave to returne to _Cyprus_: with thankfull favours to the King -as well by Letters, as also by Ambassadours espresly 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 gave him intelligence of -all that had happened, writing moreover to him, that (if he were so -pleased) hee would yet send her in Royall manner to him. The King of -_Cholcos_ was exceeding joyfull of these glad tydings, and dispatching -a worthy trayne to fetch her, she was convayed thither very pompously, -and she who had beene embraced by so many, was received by him as -an honest virgine, living long time after with him in much joy and -felicity. And therefore, it hath beene said as a common Proverbe: 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 divers places. -Returning afterward (unknowne) thorow_ Scotland, _hee found them -advanced unto great dignity. Then, repayring in the habite of a -Servitour, into the King of_ France _his Armie, and his innocencie made -publiquely knowne; hee was reseated in his former honourable degree._ - -The eight Novell. - -_Whereby all men may plainely understand, that loyalty faithfully kept -to the Prince (what perils so ever doe ensue) doth yet neverthelesse -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 moved 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 leaving that to -their owne construction, they smiled merrily at the last speeches of -_Pamphilus_, and the Queene perceiving the Novell to be ended: shee -fixed her eye upon Madame _Eliza_, as signifying thereby, that she -was next to succeede in order, which shee joyfully embracing, spake -as followeth. The field is very large and spacious, wherein all this -day we have walked, and there is not any one here, so wearied with -running the former races, but nimbly would adventure 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, having congregated the forces -of their owne dominions, as also of their friends and confederates, -they resolved manfully to encounter their enemies. But before they -would adventure on any rash proceeding; they held it as the chiefest -part of pollicie and Royall providence, not to leave the State -without a chiefe or Governour. And having 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 travaile:) hee was elected Lieutenant Governour in -their sted, over 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 under his care and custodie, yet -(notwithstanding) he honoured them as his superiours, and as the -dignity of their quality required. Heere you are to observe, concerning -Counte _Gualtier_ himselfe, that he was a most compleat person, aged -little above 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, leaving him onely -a sonne and a daughter, very young and of tender yeares, which made -his owne home the lesse welcome to him, having lost his deare Love 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 upon him, convaying such -conspiring passions to her heart (in regard of his person and vertues) -that her love exceeded all capacity of governement. Her desires -out-stepping all compasse of modesty, or the dignity of her Princely -condition; throwes off all regard of civill and sober thoughts, and -guides her into a Labyrinth of wanton imaginations. For, she regards -not now the eminencie of his high authority, his gravity of yeares, and -those parts that are the true conducts to honour: but lookes upon her -owne loose and lascivious appetite, her young, gallant, and over-ready -yeelding nature, comparing them with his want of a wife, and likely -hope (thereby) of her sooner prevailing; supposing, that nothing -could be her hinderance, but onely bashfull shame-facednesse, which -she rather chose utterly to forsake and set aside, then to faile of -her hote enflamed affection, and therefore, shee would needes be the -discoverer of her owne disgrace. - -Upon a day, being alone by her selfe, and the time seeming suteable to -her intention: shee sent for the Counte, under 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, -upon 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 up into her -face, yet shame enforcing teares from her eyes, with words broken and -halfe confused, at last she began to deliver 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 divers occasions) -much more upon the one, then the other. Wherefore desertfully, in the -censure of a just and upright Judge, a fault of divers 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, having no other helpe for maintainance, but -laborious travaile of their bodies should worthily receive more sharpe -reprehension, in yeelding to amorous desires, or such passions as -are incited by love; then a wealthy Lady whose living relieth not on -her paines or cares, neither wanteth any thing that she can wish to -have: I dare presume, that you your selfe will allow this to be equall -and just. In which respect, I am of the minde, that the fore-named -allegations, ought to serve as a sufficient excuse, yea, and to the -advantage of her who is so possessed, if the passions of love should -over-reach her: alwayes provided, 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 servile or -vile election. - -These two especiall observations, allowable in my judgement, and living -now in me, seazing on my youthfull blood and yeares: have found no -mean inducement to love, in regard of my husbands far distance from -me, medling in the rude uncivill actions of warre, when he should -rather be at home in more sweet imployment. You see Sir, that these -Orators advance themselves here in your presence, to acquaint you -with the extremity of my over-commanding agony: and if the same power -hath dominion in you, which your discretion (questionlesse) cannot be -voide of; then let me entreate such advise from you, as may rather -helpe, then hinder my hopes. Beleeve 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: have so prevailed against my strongest -resistances, that not onely so weake a woman as I am, but any man of -much more potent might (living in ease and idlenesse as I doe) cannot -withstand such continuall assaults, having 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 Love highly favourable to mee, by guiding my -judgement with such moderation, to make election of a wise, worthy, and -honourable friend, fit to enjoy 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 have not misled mine eye, as in Love no Lady can be easily -deceived: for person, perfections, and all parts most to be commended -in a man, the whole Realme of _France_ containeth not your equall. -Observe beside, how forward Fortune sheweth her selfe to us 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 unfaigned affection I beare you, and -compassion, which you ought to have of Royall Princesse, even almost -sicke to death for your sake: I earnestly entreate you, not to denie me -your loving society, but pittying my youth and fiery afflictions (never -to be quenched but by your kindnesse) I may enjoy my hearts desire. - -As shee uttered these words, the teares streamed aboundantly downe -her faire cheekes, preventing her of any further speech: so that -dejecting her head into her bosome, overcome with the predominance of -her passions; shee fell upon the Countes knee, whereas else shee had -falne upon the ground. When hee, like a loyall and most honourable -man, sharply reprehended her fonde and idle love, and when shee would -have embraced him about the necke; hee repulsed her roughly from him, -protesting upon 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 -utterly frustrated: grewe instantly forgetfull of her intemperate -love, and falling into extremity of rage, converted 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 -unkindnesse, and all my hoped joyes be defeated in a moment? Know -slave, 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 -over-credulous Court, then either his owne conscience, or any -dishonourable act by him committed, beleeving likewise, that her -slanderous accusation would bee credited, above his true and spotlesse -innocency: closely he conveyed himselfe out of the Court, making what -hast hee could, home to his owne house, which being too weake for -warranting his safety upon such pursuite as would be used against him, -without any further advice or counsell, he seated his two children on -horsebacke, himselfe also being but meanly mounted, thus away thence -hee went to _Calice_. - -Upon the clamour and noise of the Lady, the Courtiers quickly flocked -thither; and, as lies soone winne beleefe in hasty opinions, upon any -silly or shallow surmise: so did her accusation passe for currant, and -the Counts advancement being envied 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 used 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 severe -condemnation, all his progeny being sentenced with perpetuall exile, -and promises of great and bountifull rewards, to such as could bring -his body alive or dead. - -Thus the innocent Count, by his over-hasty and sodaine flight, made -himselfe guilty of this foule imputation: and arriving at _Callice_ -with his children, their poore and homely habites, hid them from being -knowne, and thence they crossed over into England, staying no where -untill hee came to London. Before he would enter into the City, he -gave divers good advertisements to his children, but especially two -precepts above all the rest. First, with patient soules to support the -poore condition, whereto Fortune (without any offence in him or them) -had thus dejected them. Next, that they should have 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 lives. His Sonne, -being named _Lewes_, and now about nine yeares old, his daughter called -_Violenta_, and aged seaven yeares, did both observe their fathers -direction, as afterward it did sufficiently appeare. And because -they might live 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 unknowne. - -Being entred into the City, and in the poore estate of beggers, they -craved every 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, comming 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 unhappy fact committed by his eldest sonne (a stripling of more -hopefull expectation, then proved) hee was enforced, with those his -two other children to forsake his country. The Lady being by nature -very pittiful, looking advisedly 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 proove -answerable to hir outward goods parts: if therefore thou canst bee -content to leave her with me, I will give her entertainment, and upon -her dutifull carriage and behaviour, if she live to such yeares as may -require it, I will have 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 delivered 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, travailing thorough the -Country with his sonne _Perotto_, at length hee came into _Wales_: but -not without much weary paine and travell, being never used before, -to journey so far on foote. There dwelt another Lord, in office of -Marshalship to the King of _England_, whose power extended over -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 divers 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 came any thing -nere him. Divers times the President had taken notice thereof, and was -so well pleased with the Lads behaviour, that he enquired, of whence -he was? Answer was made, that hee was a poore mans son, that every 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 gave his son to -the Nobleman: albeit naturall and fatherly affection, urged some -unwillingnesse 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 under -good and woorthie government: the Count would continue no longer in -_England_: but, as best he could procure the meanes, passed over into -_Ireland_, and being arrived at a place called _Stanford_, became -servant to an Earle of that Country, a Gentleman professing Armes, on -whom he attended as a serving man, & lived a long while in that estate -very painfully. - -His daughter _Violenta_, clouded under the borrowed name of _Gianetta_, -dwelling with the Lady at _London_, grew so in yeares, beauty, -comelinesse of person, and was so gracefull in the favour of her Lord -and Lady, yea, of every one in the house beside, that it was wonderfull -to behold. Such as but observed her usuall carriage, and what modesty -shined clearely in her eyes, reputed her well worthy of honourable -preferment; in which regard, the Lady that had received 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 deserved. But God, the just rewarder of all -good endeavours, 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 every way answerable to his outward behaviour, -exceeding _Gianetta_ about sixe yeeres in age. Hee perceiving 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 -love concealed from his Parents, not daring to desire her in marriage: -for loth hee was to loose their favour, by disclosing the vehemency of -his afflictions, which proved a greater torment to him, then if it had -beene openly knowne. - -It came to passe, that love over-awed him in such sort, as he fell into -a violent sicknesse, and score of Physicions were sent for, to save him -from death, if possibly it might be. Their judgements observing the -course of his sicknesse, yet not reaching to the cause of the disease, -made a doubtfull question of his recovery; which was so displeasing to -his parents, that their griefe and sorrow grew beyond measure. Many -earnest entreaties they moved 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 unto 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) upon some especial occasion entred into the Chamber, -which when the young Gentleman perceived, 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 observation, to note how long -that fit would continue. No sooner was _Gianetta_ gone forth of the -Chamber, but the pulse immediately gave over beating, which perswaded -the Physicion, that some part of the disease had now discovered it -selfe apparantly. - -Within a while after, pretending to have some speech with _Gianetta_, -and holding the Gentleman still by the arme, the Physicion caused her -to be sent for, and immediately shee came. Upon 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 have made it -knowne to me, and he loveth the Damosell very dearely: yet (for ought -I can perceive, the Maide doth not know it) now if you have 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 preserve 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 enjoying 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 soever, but it should have beene provided 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 Heaven hath been more mercifull to thee, -then thou wouldest be to thy selfe or us. And to prevent 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 love, and why shouldst -thou shame to manifest as much, it being so apt and convenient for -thy youth? For if I were perswaded, that thou couldst not love, I -should make the lesse esteeme of thee. Therefore deare Sonne, be not -dismayed, but freely discover thine affections. Expel those disastrous -drouping thoughts, that have 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 love thee as dearely as mine -owne life. Set therefore aside this nice conceit of shame and feare, -revealing the truth boldly to me, if I may stead thee in thy love; -resolving thy selfe unfaignedly, that if my care stretch not to -compasse thy content, account me for the most cruell Mother living, and -utterly unworthy of such a Sonne. - -The young Gentleman having 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 loves so strict concealement, -but an especiall error, which I finde by daily proofe in many, who -being growne to yeeres of grave discretion, doe never remember, that -they themselves have bin yong. But because heerein I find you to be -both discreet and wise, I will not onely affirme, what you have seen in -me to be true, but also will confesse, to whom it is: upon 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 resolved, whether his confession would -agree with the Physitians words, or no, and reserving another intention -to her selfe: bad him feare nothing, but freely discover 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 have made no motion, to commisserate -this my languishing extremity, nor acquainted any living creature with -my love: 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 enjoying 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 severe 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 joy and comfort, disposing her selfe daily to proove, -how in honour she might keepe promise with her Son. - -Within a short while after, calling _Gianetta_ privately to her, in -gentle manner, and by the way of pleasant discourse, she demanded of -her, whither she was provided of a Lover, or no. _Gianetta_, being -never acquainted with any such questions, a scarlet Dye covering all -her modest countenance, thus replied. Madam, I have no neede of any -Lover, and very unseemly were it, for so poore a Damosell as I am, to -have so much as a thought of Lovers: being banished from my friends and -kinsfolke, and remaining in service as I do. - -If you have 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 unfit, that so faire a Maid as you -are, should remaine destitute of a lover. Madam, sayde _Gianetta_, -considering with my selfe, that since you received me of my poore -Father, you have used me rather like your daughter, then a servant; it -becommeth mee to doe as pleaseth you. Notwithstanding, I trust (in the -regard of mine own good and honour) never to use any complaint in such -a case: but if you please to bestow a husband on me, I purpose to love -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 live. - -These words were of a quite contrary complexion, to those which -the Lady expected from her, and for effecting the promise made -unto hir Sonne: howbeit (like a wise and noble Lady) much shee -inwardly commended the maids answers, and saide unto 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 love, would ye denie him? Sodainly the Maide returned this -answer; Madam, the King (perhaps) might enforce me; but with my free -consent, hee shall never have 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 project in -proofe, saying to her son, that when he was fully recovered, he should -have private 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 moove 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 love was the sole scope of his intention, foule and loathsome -lust he utterly defied; whereupon, he fell into sickenesse againe, -rather more violently then before. Which the Lady perceiving, revealed -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 enjoy her in -honourable marriage: accounting it better, for preservation 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 love. - -After great consultation with kindred and friendes, the match was -agreed upon, to the no little joy of _Gianetta_, who devoutly returned -infinite thankes to heaven, for so mercifully respecting her dejected -poore estate, after the bitter passage of so many miseries, and -never tearming her selfe any otherwise, but the daughter of a poore -_Piccard_. Soone was the yong Gentleman recovered and married, no -man alive so well contented as he, and setting downe an absolute -determination, to lead a loving life with his _Gianetta_. - -Let us now convert 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 was most comely of person, and addicted to all valiant attempts: -so that in Tourneyes, Justes, 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 Province became dispeopled and desolate. - -In the time of this plague and dreadfull visitation, the Lord President, -his Lady, Sonnes, Daughters, Brothers, Nephewes, and Kindred dyed, none -remaining alive, but one onely Daughter marriageable, a few of the -houshold servants, 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_, understanding 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 over-past, since the Count _D'Angiers_ -fled from _Paris_, having suffered (in miserable sort) many hard and -lamentable adversities, and seeing himselfe now to be growne aged, hee -was desirous to leave Ireland, and to know (if hee might) what was -become of both his children. Hereupon, perceiving his wonted forme to -be so altered, that such as formerly had conversed most with him, could -now not take any knowledge of him, & feeling his body (through long -labour and exercise endured in service) 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 Earle his Maister, with whom -hee had continued long in service, to no advantage or advancement, and -crossing over into _England_, travailed 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 reverenced 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 joy 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, untill such time as he came to _London_. Making there secret -enquiry, concerning the Lady with whom he had left his daughter: hee -understoode, that a young Gentlewoman, named _Gianetta_, was married -to that Ladies onely Son; which made a second addition of joy to his -soule, accounting all his passed adversities of no value, both his -children being living, and in so high honour. - -Having found her dwelling, and (like a kinde Father) being earnestly -desirous to see her; he dayly resorted neere to the house, where Sir -_Roger Mandavill_ (for so was _Gianettaes_ husband named) chauncing to -see him, being moved to compassion because he was both poore and aged: -commaunded one of his men, to take him into the house, and to give him -some foode for Gods sake, which (accordingly) the servant performed. -_Gianetta_ had divers 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, even as -if Nature had truly instructed them, that this was their aged, though -poore Grandfather, and hee as lovingly receiving these kinde relations -from them, wisely and silently kept all to himselfe, with sighes, -teares, and joyes 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 adjoining -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 loved 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 reverence, because shee was now a Noble woman, conceiving -wonderfull joy 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_ perceiving, that when her children were fetcht away, they -returned againe to the olde man, and would not leave him; desired their -Maister to let them alone. - -While thus the children continued making much of the good olde man, -Lord _Andrew Mandevile_, 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 ever 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 mervaile, if like will to like, a beggers brats to -keepe company with beggers. The Count hearing these contemptible words, -was not a little greeved thereat, and although his courage was greater, -then his poore condition would permit him to expresse; yet, clouding -all injuries 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_, perceiving 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 favoured 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 -service, 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 service, save 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 service, 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 -elsee 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 divers 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_, (upon request made to him by his new brother of -_France_) sent him very honourable supplies of his people, under the -conduct of _Perotto_, his lately elected President of _Wales_, and Sir -_Roger Mandevile_, 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 advice 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 grievous sicknes, and perceiving 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 revealed 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 living, 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 injuriously wronging a man of so great valour -and honour: Proclamation was made throughout the Camp, and in many -other parts of _France_ beside, that whosoever 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 favours, which the -King franckely would bestow upon him. When the Count (who walked up -and downe in the habite of a common servitor) heard this Proclamation, -forth-with he went to his Master Sir _Roger Mandevile_, 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 themselves alone in the -Tent, the Count spake in this manner to _Perotto_. Sir, S. _Roger -Mandevile_ here, your equal competitor in this military service, is the -husband to your naturall sister, having as yet never received any dowry -with her, but her inherent unblemishable vertue & honour. Now because -she may not still remain destitute of a competent Dowry: I desire that -Sir _Roger_, and none other, may enjoy 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_: avouch moreover, that _Violenta_, shadowed under -the borrowed name of _Gianetta_, is your owne Sister; and deliver me -up as your Father, the long exiled Count _D'Angiers. Perotto_ hearing -this, beheld him more advisedly, 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 Mandevile_, hearing first what the Count had said, and -seeing what _Perotto_ afterward performed; became surprized with -such extraordinary joy and admiration, that he knew not how to carry -himselfe in this case. Neverthelesse, giving credite to his words, -and being somewhat ashamed, that he had not used the Count in more -respective manner, & remembring beside, the unkinde language of his -furious Father to him: he kneeled downe, humbly craving pardon, both -for his fathers rudenes and his owne, which was courteously granted by -the Count, embracing him lovingly in his armes. - -When they had a while discoursed their severall fortunes, sometime -in teares, and then againe in joy, _Perotto_ and Sir _Roger_, would -have 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 injurious -proceeding. Then Sir _Roger Mandevile_, 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_ uppon 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, delivered the aged Count, by the title -of his servant, and presenting _Perotto_ next, said. Sir, heere I -deliver you the Father and his Son, his daughter who is my wife, cannot -so conveniently be heere now, but shortly, by the permission of heaven, -your Majesty shall have 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 joy also for his so happy recovery, he tooke -up the Count from kneeling, kissing, and embracing him very kindely, -welcomming _Perotto_ in the selfesame manner. Immediately also he gave -commaund, that the Count should be restored to his honours, apparrell, -servants, horses, and furniture, answerable to his high estate and -calling, which was as speedily performed. Moreover, the King greatly -honoured Sir _Roger Mandevile_, desiring to be made acquainted with all -their passed fortunes. - -When Sir _Roger_ had received the royall reward, for thus surrendring -the Count and his Sonne, the Count calling him to him, saide. Take that -Princely remuneration of my soveraigne Lord the King, and commending -me to your unkinde 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 -joy and triumph, they continued a long while with the noble Count; who -had all his goods and honours restored to him, in farre greater measure -then ever they were before: his Sonnes in Law returning home with their -Wives 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 deceived by another Merchant, -named_ Ambroginolo, _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 servant to the Soldane. The deceiver being found at last, -shee compassed such meanes, that her Husband_ Bernardo _came into_ -Alexandria, _and there, after due punishment inflicted on the false -deceiver, shee resumed the garments againe of a woman, and returned -home with her Husband to_ Geneway. - -The ninth Novell. - -_Wherein is declared, that by over-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 justly punished -for their treachery._ - - -Madam _Eliza_ having ended her compassionate discourse, which indeede -had moved all the rest to sighing; the Queene, who was faire, comely -of stature, and carrying a very majesticall 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 Novelse, but onely -he and my selfe: I must first deliver mine, and he (who takes it for an -honour) to be the last in relating his owne, last let him be for his -owne deliverance. Then pausing a little while, thus shee began againe. -Many times among vulgar people, it hath passed as a common Proverbe: -That the deceiver is often trampled on, by such as he hath deceived. -And this cannot shew it selfe (by any reason) to be true, except such -accidents as awaite on treachery, doe really make a just discovery -thereof. And therefore according to the course of this day observed, I -am the woman, that must make good what I have saide for the approbation -of that Proverbe; no way (I hope) distastfull to you in the hearing, -but advantageable to preserve 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 urged their often resorting thither. One night among many -other, having had a merry Supper together, they began to discourse on -divers matters, and falling from one relation to another; they communed -in very friendly manner, concerning their wives, 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 love to my wife, -and make use of such an advantage 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 unknowne are sildome or never called in question. A thirde man -jumpt in censure, with his former fellowes of the Jury; and it plainly -appeared, that al the rest were of the same opinion, condemning their -wives over-rashly, and alledging, that when husbands strayed so far -from home, their wives had wit enough to make use of their time. - -Onely one man among them all, named _Bernardo Lomellino_, & dwelling -in _Geneway_, maintained the contrary; boldly avouching, that by the -especiall favour 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 whatsoever, but in -woman-hoode shee went beyond all other. No Lord, Knight, Esquire, or -Gentleman, could bee better served 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 never 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 used of his wife, and seeming to -make a mockerie thereat, demaunded, if the Emperour had given him this -priviledge, above all other married men? _Bernardo_ being somewhat -offended, answered: No Emperour hath done it, but the especiall -blessing of heaven, exceeding all the Emperours on the earth in grace, -and thereby have received this favour; whereto _Ambroginolo_ presently -thus replied. _Bernardo_, without all question to the contrary, I -beleeve that what thou hast said, is true, but, for ought I can -perceive, thou hast slender judgement in the nature of things: because, -if thou didst observe them well, thou couldst not be of so grosse -understanding; 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 have spoken of our -wives, doe thinke any otherwise of them, then as well and honestly as -thou canst of thine, nor that any thing elsee did urge 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, upon the matter already propounded. - -I have ever more understood, that man was the most noble creature, -formed by God to live in this world, and woman in the next degree -to him: but man, as generally is beleeved, and as is discerned by -apparant effects, is the most perfect of both. Having 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 universally -graunted, that woman is more various and mutable, and the reason -thereof may be approved, 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 covet the enjoying 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 conceive of a fraile woman, -subject (by nature) to entreaties, flatteries, gifts, perswasions, -and a thousand other enticing meanes, which a man (that is affected -to her) can use? Doest thou think then that shee hath any power to -containe? Assuredly, though thou shouldst rest so resolved, yet cannot -I be of the same opinion. For I am sure thou beleevest, 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 have, 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 elsee possible, either to be -denied or affirmed to the contrary, as thou most unadvisedly 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 understanding or shame: but such as are wise, and endued -with vertue, have alwayes such a precious esteeme of their honour, -that they will containe those principles of constancie, which men are -meerely carelesse of, and I justifie my wife to be one of them. Beleeve -me _Bernardo_ (replied _Ambroginolo_) if so often as thy wives minde -is addicted to wanton folly, a badge of scorne should arise on thy -forehead, to render testimonie of her female frailty; I beleeve the -number of them would be more, then willingly you would wish them to be. -And among all married men, in every degree, the notes are so secret -of their wives 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 never imposed, but in cases -evident 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 never 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 divers women. Yea, and -let me tell thee more _Bernardo_, were I in private company with thy -wife, howsoever 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 -over-long 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 have my head smitten off, if thou canst -winne her to any such dishonest act, by any meanes whatsoever thou -canst use unto 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 -upon the proofe, pawne downe five 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 departing 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 private and especiall tokens, as thou -thy selfe shalt confesse that I have not failed. Provided, that thou -doe first promise upon 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 undertaken. - -_Bernardo_ saide, be it a bargaine, I am the man that will make good -my five 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 -delivered under 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 -perceived, that he had undertaken a very idle enterprise, yet would he -not give it over 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 favour with -his wife; upon whose poverty he so prevailed, 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 conveyed into the House of _Bernardoes_ Wife, under 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 Bed-chamber, which was the place where _Ambroginolo_ most desired -to bee. - -Being thus conveyed 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 ever used to have: -_Ambroginolo_ softly opened the Chest, according as cunningly hee had -contrived it; and stepping forth in his sockes made of cloath, observed -the scituation of the Chamber, the paintings, pictures, and beautifull -hangings, with all things elsee 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 bravery. No especiall note or marke could hee -descrie, whereof he might make credible report, but onely a small wart -upon 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 upon 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 severall nights, the -Gentlewoman neither mistrusting or missing any thing. The third day -being come, the poore woman, according as formerly was concluded, came -to have 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 conveniently he could to _Paris_. - -Being arrived there long before his limitted time, he called the -Merchants together, who were present at the passed words and wager; -avouching before _Bernardo_, that he had won his five thousand Duckets, -and performed the taske he undertooke. 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 every circumstance -elsee beside. Next he shewed the severall things, which he brought away -thence with him, affirming that he had received them of her selfe. -_Bernardo_ confessed, that his description of the Chamber was true, -and acknowledged moreover, that these other things did belong to his -Wife: But (quoth he) this may be gotten, by corrupting some servant -of mine, both for intelligence of the Chamber, as also of the Ring, -Purse, and what elsee 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 serve for sufficient proofes; but -seeing thou art so desirous to know more: I plainely tell thee, that -faire _Genevra_ thy Wife, hath a small round wart upon 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 unable to utter -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, even to the -utmost 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 arrived, he called a servant, -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 servant, that so soone -as he had brought her to a convenient place, he should there kill her, -without any pitty or compassion, and then returne to him againe. - -When the servant was come to _Geneway_, and had delivered his Letter -and message, _Genevra_ gave him most joyful welcome, and on the morrow -morning mounting on Horse-backe with the servant, rode merrily towards -the Countrey house; divers 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 servant supposed to be a meete -place, for the execution of his Masters command. Suddenly drawing forth -his Sword, and holding _Genevra_ fast by the arme, he saide; Mistresse, -quickly commend your soule to God, for you must die, before you passe -any further. _Genevra_ seeing the naked Sword, and hearing the words -so peremptorily delivered, fearefully answered; Alas deare friend, -mercy for Gods sake; and before thou kill me, tell me wherein I have -offended thee, and why thou must kill me? Alas good Mistresse replied -the servant, you have not any way offended me, but in what occasion you -have displeased your Husband, it is utterly unknowne 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 commandedeth. God is my witnesse, that I am truly compassionate of -you, and yet (by no meanes) may I let you live. - -_Genevra_ kneeling before him weeping, wringing her hands, thus -replied. Wilt thou turne Monster, and be a murtherer of her that never -wronged thee, to please another man, and on a bare command? God, who -truly knoweth all things, is my faithfull witnesse, that I never -committed any offence, whereby to deserve the dislike of my Husband, -much lesse so harsh a recompence as this is. But flying from mine owne -justification, 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 enjoy 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 ever heare any tydings of me. - -The servant, who had no great good will to kill her, very easily grew -pittifull, tooke off her upper garments, and gave 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 delivered -him her garments, he assured him, that he had not onely accomplished -his commaund, but also was most secure from any discovery: because he -had no sooner done the deede, but foure or five very ravenous Wolfes, -came presently running to the dead body, and gave it buriall in their -bellies. _Bernardo_ soone after returning to _Geneway_, was much blamed -for such unkinde cruelty to his wife; but his constant avouching of her -treason to him (according then to the Countries custome) did cleare him -from all pursuite of law. - -Poore _Genevra_, was left thus alone and disconsolate, and night -stealing fast upon her, shee went to a silly village neere adjoining, -where (by the meanes of a good olde woman) she got such provision as -the place afforded, making the doublet fit to her body, and converting -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; upon some conference -passing betweene them, shee was entertained into his service, and -being brought aboord the Ship, she went under the name of _Sicurano -da Finale_. There shee had better apparell bestowne on her by the -Gentleman, and her service proved 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 certaine peregrine Faulcons, which hee presented to the -Soldane: who oftentimes welcommed this Gentleman to his table, where -hee observed the behaviour of _Sicurano_, attending on his Maisters -trencher, and therewith was so highly pleased; that he requested to -have him from the Gentleman, who (for his more advancement) willingly -parted with his so lately entertained servant. _Sicurano_ was so ready -and discreete in his dayly services; 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 -observed) had formerly beene, in the Citie of _Acres_, which was -under the Soldanes subjection: there yearely met a great assembly of -Merchants, as Christians, Moores, Jewes, 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 used to send thither some of his ordinarie -Officers, and a strong guard of Souldiers beside, to defend them from -all injuries and molestation, because he reaped thereby no meane -benefit. And who should be now sent about this businesse, but his new -elected favourite _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 every -part of the Fayre, where shee observed a worthy company of Merchants, -Sicilians, Pisanes, Genewayes, Venetians, and other Italians, whom -the more willingly shee noted, in remembrance of her native Countrey. -At one especiall time, among other, chancing into a Shop or Boothe -belonging to the Venetians; she espied (hanging up 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 were 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 unfitting -behaviour) 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, I smile not at you, or your -demaund; but at the manner how I came by these things. - -_Sicurano_, upon this answere, was ten times more desirous then before, -and said. If Fortune favoured 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 -given me by a Gentlewoman of _Geneway_, named Madame _Genevra_, 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 five 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 deserved 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 conceived, -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 convenient -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, devising 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 divers gallant Merchants of _Geneway_, that then remained in -_Alexandria_, and by vertue of the _Soldans_ friendly Letters, beside -to bring him thither upon 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 private) entertained by -divers of her worthy friends, till time did favour what shee further -intended. - -In the expectation of _Bernardoes_ arrivall, shee had so prevailed -with _Ambroginolo_, that the same tale which he formerly tolde to her, -he delivered againe in presence of the _Soldane_, who seemed to be -well pleased with it: But after shee had once seene her Husband, shee -thought upon her more serious businesse; providing her selfe of an apt -opportunity, when shee entreated such favour 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, upon peril of his -life, by what means he won the wager, of the five thousand golden -Duckets he received of _Bernardo. Ambroginolo_ seeing _Sicurano_ there -present, upon whose favour he wholly relied, yet perceiving her lookes -likewise to be as dreadfull as the _Soldanes_, and hearing her threaten -him with most greevous torments, except he revealed 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 avouched. Yet dreaming on no other paine -or penalty, but restoring backe the five thousand Duckets of gold, -and the other things by him purloyned, truly he revealed the whole -forme of his falshood. Then _Sicurano_ according as the _Soldane_ had -formerly commanded him, turning to _Bernardo_, saide. And thou, upon -the suggestion of this foule lie, what didst thou to thy Wife? Being -(quoth _Bernardo_) overcome with rage, for the losse of my money, and -the dishonour I supposed to receive by my Wife; I caused a servant of -mine to kill her, and as he credibly avouched, her body was devoured by -ravenous Wolves 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 urged, and to what end it would succeede: _Sicurano_ spake -in this manner to the Soldane. My gracious Lord, you may plainely -perceive, in what degree that poore Gentlewoman might make her vaunt, -being so well provided, both of a loving friend, and a husband. Such -was the friends love, 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 invincible trueth, whereof he had faithfull knowledge, by long -and very honourable experience; caused her to be slaine, and made -foode for devouring Wolves. 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 have worthily deserved: if you please (in your ever -knowne gracious benignity) to permit the punishment of the deceiver, -and pardon the party so deceived; I will procure such meanes, that she -shall appeare here in your presence, and theirs. - -The Soldane, being desirous to give _Sicurano_ all manner of -satisfaction, having followed the course so industriously: bad him -to produce the woman, and hee was well contented. Whereat _Bernardo_ -stoode much amazed, because he verily beleeved that she was dead. And -_Ambroginolo_ foreseeing already a preparation for punishment, feared, -that the repayment of the money would not now serve 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_ having 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 use them, but -must truely witnesse what she was indeede, and therefore thus spake. - -Great Soldane, I am the miserable and unfortunate _Genevra_, that, for -the space of sixe whole yeares, have wandered through the world, in -the habite of a man, falsly and most maliciously slaundered, by this -villainous traytour _Ambroginolo_, and by this unkinde cruell husband, -betrayed to his servant to be slaine, and left to be devoured by savage -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, having alreadie -acknowledged the contrarie, being stricken dumbe with shamefull -disgrace, was not able to utter one word. - -The Soldane, who had alwayes reputed _Sicurano_ to be a man, having -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 _Genevra_, 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 justly deserved death; which likewise himselfe -confessed, and falling at the feete of _Genevra_, desired her (in -teares) to forgive his rash transgression, which most lovingly 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, having his naked body annointed all over with honey, and never to -be taken off, untill (of it selfe) it fell in pieces, which, according -to the sentence, was presently performed. Next, he gave expresse -charge, that all his mony and goods should be given to _Genevra_, -which valued above ten thousand double Duckets. Forth-with a solemne -feast was prepared, wherein, much honour was done to _Bernardo_, being -the husband of _Genevra_: and to her, as to a most worthy woman, and -matchlesse wife, he gave in costly Jewelse, as also vesselse of gold and -silver plate, so much as amounted to above 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 joyfully, being welcommed home with -great honour, especially Madame _Genevra_, whom every one supposed -to be dead, and alwayes after, so long as shee lived, 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 devoured 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 -evill towards him. And thus was the Proverbe truly verified, that shame -succeedeth after ugly sinne, and the deceiver is trampled and trod, by -such as himselfe hath deceived. - - - - -Pagamino da Monaco, _a roving Pirate on the Seas, caried away the -faire Wife of_ Signior Ricciardo di Chinzica, _who understanding where -shee was, went thither; and falling into friendship with_ Pagamino, -_demaunded his Wife of him; whereto he yeelded, provided, 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 Novell. - -_Wherein olde men are wittily reprehended, that will match themselves -with younger women, then is fit for their yeares and insufficiencie; -never considering, what afterward may happen to them._ - - -Every one in this honest and gracious assembly, most highly commended -the Novell 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 Novell, 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 unmanly -indiscretion of _Bernardo_, but much more the base arrogancie of -_Ambroginolo_, how justly deserved shame fell upon him; as well it -may happen to all other, that are so vile in their owne opinions, as -he apparantly approved himselfe to be. For, as men wander abroade in -the world, according to their occasions in diversity of Countries, and -observation of the peoples behaviour: so are their humours as variously -transported. And if they finde women wantonly disposed abroade, the -like judgement they give of their wives at home; as if they had never -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 themselves to be endued with more strength, then -Nature ever meant to bestow upon them, foolishly beleeving, that they -can cover 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 lived in _Pisa_ (about some hundred -yeeres before _Tuscanie_ & _Liguria_ came to embrace the Christian -Faith) a Judge better stored with wisdome and ingenuity, then corporall -abilities of the body, he 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 endeavour) to enjoy a faire and youthfull wife in marriage: both -which qualities he should much rather have avoyded, if he could have -ministred as good counsell to himselfe, as he did to others, resorting -to him for advice. - -Upon this his amorous and diligent inquisition, it came so to passe, -that a worthy Gentlewoman, 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 motive of this mariage, and no expectation -of mutuall contentment. The Judge being maried, and the Bride brought -solemnly home to his house, we need make no question of brave cheare -& banqueting, wel furnished by their friends on either side: other -matters were now hammering in the Judges 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 continuall requests, that the -Judge failing in plea for his owne defence, was often non-suited by -lacke of answer; yet he wanted neither good wines, drugges, and all -restauratives, to comfort the heart, and encrease good blood; but all -avayled not in this case. - -But well fare a good courage, where performance faileth, he could -liberally commend his passed joviall 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 -_Ravenna_, 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 -reverence of whom, and for their sakes, he approved by divers 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 honour of our Lords rest, and all the sacred time of -Lent; as also certaine observations of the Moone, & infinite other -exceptions beside; thinking perhaps, that it was as convenient for men -to refraine from their wives conversation, as he did often times from -sitting in the Court. These were his daily documents to his young wife, -wherewith (poore soule) she became so tired, as nothing could be more -irksome to her; and very carefull he was, lest any other shold teach her -what belonged to working daies, because he wold have her know none but -holidaies. - -Afterward it came to passe, that the season waxing extremely hot, -_Signior Ricciardo_ would goe recreate himselfe at his house in the -Countrey, neere unto the black Mountaine, where for his faire wives -more contentment, he continued divers dayes together. And for her -further recreation, he gave order, to have a day of fishing; he going -aboard a small Pinnace among the Fishers, and shee was in another, -consorted with divers other Gentlewomen, in whose company shee shewed -her selfe very well pleased. Delight made them launch further into -the Sea, then either the Judge was willing they should have done, -or agreed with respect of their owne safety. For suddenly a Galliot -came upon 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 coveted 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_ Judge had seene this theft (he being so jealous 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 injury he had sustained -by those Pyrates, in carying his wife thus away from him: but all was -in vaine, he neither (as yet) knew the man, nor whether he had conveyed -her from him. _Pagamino_ perceiving 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 using any harsh or uncivill demeanour to her, -because shee wept and lamented grievously. But when night came, her -husbands Calendar falling from her girdle, and all the fasts & feasts -quite out of her remembrance; she received such curteous consolations -from _Pagamino_, that before they could arrive at _Monaco_, the Judge -& his Law cases, were almost out of her memory, such was his affable -behaviour to her, and she began to converse 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 Judge, 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 then an houres space, they -grew into familiar & private conference: _Pagamino_ yet pretending not -to know him, but expected what issue this talke would sort to. When -time served, the Judge discoursed the occasion of his comming thither, -desiring him to demand what ransome he pleased, & that he might have -his wife home with him; whereto _Pagamino_ thus answered. - -My Lord Judge, you are welcome hither, and to answer you breefely -very true it is, that I have a yong Gentlewoman in my house, whome I -neither know to be your wife, of any other mans elsee whatsoever: 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 avouch, 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 have said, and be willing to depart hence with you: I shall rest -well satisfied, and will have no other recompence for her ransome (in -regard of your grave and reverent yeares) but what your selfe shall -please to give me. But if it fall out otherwise, and prove not to be -as you have 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 elsee that I know. Beleeve it -certainly, replied the Judge, that she is my wife, and if you please -to bring me where she is, you shall soone perceive it: for, she will -presently cast her armes about my neck, and I durst adventure the utter -losse of her, if shee denie to doe it in your presence. Come on then, -said _Pagamino_, and let us 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 conversing together; never uttering 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 Judge -beheld, (who expected to finde a farre more gracious welcome) he stoode -as a man amazed, saying to himselfe. Perhaps the extraordinary griefe -and melancholly, 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 Love, dearely -have I bought your going on fishing, because never man felt the like -afflictions, as I have done since the day when I lost you: but by this -your uncivill silence, you seeme as if you did not know me. Why dearest -Love, seest thou not that I am thy husband _Ricciardo_, who am come to -pay what ransome this Gentleman shall demaund, even in the house where -now we are: so to convay thee home againe, upon his kinde promise of -thy deliverance, 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? Advise your selfe well, -least you mistake me for some other, because, concerning my selfe, -I doe not remember, that ever 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 loving 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 upon you never so often, certaine I am, that (till this -instant) I have not seene you. - -My Lord Judge conceived in his mind, that thus she denied all -knowledge 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 favour, that he might speake alone with her in -her Chamber. _Pagamino_ answered, that he was well contented therewith, -provided, that he should not kisse her against her will. Then he -requested _Bertolomea_, 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 have in this world; wilt -thou not know thine owne _Ricciardo_, who loveth 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 have you to -understand Sir, that my memory is not so oblivious, 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 judgement) the world reputed you to be, you could not -be voide of so much apprehension, but did apparantly perceive, 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 utter it. But -if studying the Lawes were more welcome to you then a wife, you ought -not to have maried, & you loose the worthy reputation of a Judge, 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 conversation of -husbands and wives. - -Here am I now with a worthy Gentleman, that entertained mee with very -honourable respect, and here I live 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 civill conversation, 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 enjoying any company of mine, for you heare my -resolved determination. - -The Judge hearing these words, was overcome with exceeding griefe, & -when she was silent, thus he began. Alas deare Love, what an answer is -this? Hast thou no regard of thine owne honour, thy Parents, & friends? -Canst thou rather affect to abide here, for the pleasures of this man, -and so sin capitally, then to live 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 reject thee. I must and shall love -thee for ever, and when I dye, I leave 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 loves 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 endeavour -heereafter to give thee better contentment. Wherefore (deare heart) doe -not denie me, but change thy minde, and goe with me, for I never saw -merry day since I lost thee. - -Sir (quoth she) I desire no body to have care of mine honour, 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 have I to regard them now? -And whereas you taxe me, that I cannot live 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 conjunction betweene you and me, whereas -here I am subject to no such constellations. You say beside, that -hereafter you will strive to give me better contentment then you have -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 rejecting me, when -his humour is satisfied; should if it prove to be so (as it is the -least part of my feare) what fortune soever shall betide me, never will -I make any meanes to you, what miseries or misadventures 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 live secured from all offence to holy Saints, and not -to injury their feasts, fasts, vigills, and other ceremonious seasons: -here is my demourance, and from hence I purpose not to part. - -Our Judge was now in a wofull perplexity, and confessing his folly, in -marying a wife so yong, and far unfit for his age and abilitie: being -halfe desperate, sad and displeased, he came forth of the Chamber, -using divers 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 -upon him, because the people began to scorne him, demanding dayly of -him, what was become of his gallant young wife, making hornes, with -ridiculous pointings at him: whereby his sences became distracted, -so that he ran raving 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 living with her in much felicity. Wherefore -(faire Ladies) I am of opinion, that _Bernardo_ of _Geneway_, in his -disputation with _Ambroginolo_, might have 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 upon another, with one consent commended _Dioneus_, -maintaining that he spake nothing but the truth, & condemning -_Bernardo_ for his cruelty. Upon a generall silence commanded, the -Queene perceiving that the time was now very farre spent, and every -one had delivered their severall Novelse, which likewise gave a period -to her Royalty: shee gave the Crowne to Madam _Neiphila_, pleasantly -speaking to her in this order. Heereafter, the government of these few -people is committed to your trust and care, for with the day concludeth -my dominion. Madam _Neiphila_, blushing at the honour done unto her, her -cheekes appeared of a vermillion tincture, her eyes glittering with -gracefull desires, and sparkling 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 have elected me your Queene, to varie -somewhat from the course observed by them that went before me, whose -government you have all so much commended: by approbation of your -counsell, I am desirous to speake my mind, concerning what I wold have -to be next followed. It is not unknown 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. Moreover, Friday ought to be reverendly -respected, in remembrance of him, who died to give us 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 & devotions, then the repetition of tales or Novelse. Now -concerning Saturday, it hath bin a custom observed among women, to bath -& wash themselves from such immundicities as the former weekes toile -hath imposed on them. Beside, it is a day of fasting, in honour of the -ensuing Sabath, whereon no labour may be done, but the observation of -holy exercises. - -By that which hath bin saide, you may easily conceive, that the course -which we have hitherto continued, cannot bee prosecuted, in one and -the same manner: wherefore, I would advice and do hold it an action wel -performed by us, to cease for these few dayes, from recounting any -other Novelse. And because we have remained here foure daies already, -except we would allow the enlarging of our company, with some other -friends that may resort unto us: I think it necessary to remove from -hence, & take our pleasure in another place, which is already by me -determined. When we shal be there assembled, and have slept on the -discourses formerly delivered, let our next argument be still the -mutabilities of Fortune, but especially to concerne such persons, as -by their wit and ingenuity, industriously have attained to some matter -earnestly desired, or elsee recovered againe, after the losse. Heereon -let us severally study and premeditate, that the hearers may receive -benefit thereby, with the comfortable maintenance of our harmlesse -recreations; the priviledge of _Dioneus_ alwayes reserved to himselfe. - -Every one commended the Queens deliberation, concluding that it shold -be accordingly prosecuted: and thereupon, the master of the houshold -was called, to give him order for that evenings Table service, and -what elsee concerned the time of the Queenes Royalty, wherein he was -sufficiently instructed: which being done, the company arose, licensing -every one to doe what they listed. The Ladies and Gentlemen walked to -the Garden, and having sported themselves 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 _Æmilia_ 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 elsee can sing, - Of those delights, which kind contentment bring? - Come, come, sweet Love, 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 joy doth counterchecke: - Stolne pleasures are delightfull in the taste, - But yet Loves 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 Love, that I may still - Enjoy 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 joyne in an happy close. - Then if not I, what Lover elsee can sing, - Of those delights which kind contentment bring._ - -After this Song was ended, they sung divers other beside, and having -great variety of instruments, they played 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 devotion. - -_The ende of the second Day._ - - - - -The Third Day. - -_Upon which Day, all matters to be discoursed on, doe passe under the -regiment of Madam_ Neiphila: _concerning such persons as (by their wit -and industry) have attained to their long wished desires, or recovered -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, having (long before) sent all things necessary to the place -of their next intended meeting. And the people which prepared there -every 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 upon the Ladies and -Gentlemen. - -With a milde, majesticke, 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 travelled two small miles distance, all of -them pleasantly conversing together; they arrived at another goodly -Palace, which being somewhat mounted above 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 -Parlours, and beautifull Chambers, every one stupendiously furnished, -with all convenient 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 every 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 divers servants attending on -him, presenting them with Comfits, and other Banquetting, as also very -singular Wines, to serve in sted of a breakefast. - -Having thus reposed themselves 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 beautifull Garden, stored with all varieties that possibly -could be devised; and therefore they observed it the more respectively. -The walkes and allyes were long and spacious, yet directly straite as -an arrow, environed with spreading vines, whereon the grapes hung in -copious clusters; which being come to their full ripenesse, gave so rare -a smell throughout the Garden, with other sweete savours 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, deserving 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 diversities of floures, even 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 -savour to the smell. - -In the middest of this Meadow, stood a Fountaine of white Marble, -whereon was engraven 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 up 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 overflow the bounds, it streamed along the Meadow, -by secret passages and chanelse, very faire and artificially made, -returning againe into every part of the Meadow, by the like wayes of -cunning conveighance, which allowed it full course into the Garden, -running swiftly thence down towards the plaine; but before it came -thether, the very swift current of the streame, did drive two goodly -Milles, which 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 rivolets -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 walked 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, even as if they envied each others felicities. - -But yet another beauty (which before had not presented it selfe unto -them) on a sodaine they perceyved; namely divers 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 every where: yet without strife or warring -together, but rather living in such a Domesticke and pleasing kinde of -company, even as if they were appoynted to enstruct the most noble of -all creatures, to imitate their sociable conversation. - -When their senses had sufficiently banquetted on these several -beauties, the tables were sodainly prepared about the Fountaine, -where first they sung sixe Canzonets; and having paced two or three -dances, they sate downe to dinner, according as the Queene ordained, -being served 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 upon their instruments, singing and -dancing gracefully together: till, in regard of the extreame heate, the -_Queene_ commanded to give over, and permitted such as were so pleased, -to take their ease and rest. But some, as not satisfied with the places -pleasures, gave themselves to walking: others fell to reading the lives -of the Romanes; some to the Chesse, and the rest to other recreations. - -But, after the dayes warmth was more mildely qualified, and everie one -had made benefit of their best content: they went (by order sent from -the _Queene_) into the Meadow where the Fountaine stood, and being -set about it, as they used 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 -conversation with them all._ - -The first Novell. - -_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 put on hir head (after it is once shorn and filletted) & -the blacke Cowle given to cover her withall: shee is no longer a woman, -nor more sensible of feminine affections, then as if in turning Nun, -shee became converted 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 -have power to do what they list, yea beyonde all meanes of sufficient -satisfying; never remembring withall, how potent the priviledge of -idlenesse is, especially when it is backt by solitude. - -In like manner, there are other people now, who do verily believe, -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 understanding. But I will approve (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 upon 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 -Admirall. And therein, under the care and trust of one woman, divers -virgins were kept as recluses or Nunnes, vowed to chastity of life; -out of whose number, the Soldan of _Babylon_ (under whom they lived -in subjection) at every three yeares end, had usually three of these -virgins sent him. At the time whereof I am now to speak, there remained -in the Monastery, no more but eight religious Sisters only, beside -the Governesse 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 serve -there no longer: but making his accounts even, with the _Factotum_ -or Bayliffe belonging to the house, returned thence to the village -of _Lamporechio_, being a native of the place. Among many other that -gave 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 up -all his yonger dayes, his name of _Masset_ (according to their vulgar -speech) was turned to _Massetto_, and therefore he was usually 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 services hee had done in the Monasterie, -having 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 uppe -all their water beside, with many other toilesome services elsee: 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 devill dwelse among them, for a man cannot doe any -thing to please them. When I have 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 have lefte all businesse, gave over the Garden, and what for one -molestation, 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 undertake 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 elsee 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 live with such women? It were better for him -to dwell among so many divelse, because they understand not the tenth -part that womens wily wits can dive 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. -Having 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 have wit sufficient, cleanely to make them beleeve that I -am dumbe, then (questionlesse) I shall be received. And resolving to -prosecute this determination, he tooke a Spade on his shoulder, and -without revealing to any body, whether he went, in the disguise of a -poore labouring countryman, he travelled to the Monastery. - -When he was there arrived, 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 given description of him. Making signes -before him, as if he were both dumbe and deafe; he manifested, that -he craved an Almes for Gods sake, making shewes beside, that if need -required, he could cleave wood, or do any reasonable kinde of service. -The _Fac-totum_ gladly gave him food, and afterward shewed him divers -knotty logs of wood, which the weake strength of _Lurco_ had left -uncloven; but this fellow being more active 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 divers Trees, by signes he bad him to lade the two -Asses therewith, which commonly carried home all the wood, and so drive -them to the Monasterie before him, which _Massetto_ knew well enough -how to do, and performed it very effectually. - -Many other servile offices were there to bee done, which caused the -_Fac-totum_ to make use of his paines divers 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 crave an almes the other -day, which in charity I could do no lesse but give him; for which hee -hath done many honest services 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 services: for the old -silly man is gone, and we have neede of such a stout fellow, to do the -businesse belonging unto the Monastery, and one fitter for the turne, -comes sildome hither. Moreover, 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: -understand then, if hee have any knowledge in Gardening, and whether -hee will dwell heere, or no: which compasse so kindly as you can. Let -him have 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 joyfull 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_ perceived, that -he knew perfectly how to undergo his businesse, and had questioned -him by signes, concerning his willingnesse to serve there still, and -received the like answer also, of his dutifull readinesse thereto; -he gave him order, to worke in the Garden, because the season did -now require it; and to leave 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 lavish 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 deprived both -of hearing and speaking, stood the lesse in feare of the Sisters -walks, but referred them to their owne care and providence. On a day, -_Massetto_ having laboured somewhat extraordinarily, lay downe to rest -him selfe awhile under 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 observing his comelinesse of person, began -to pity the poverty of his condition, but much more the misery of his -great defectes. Then one of them, who had a little livelier 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, I -would tell thee a thing which I have often thought on, and it may -(perhaps) redound to thy profit. [Sidenote: Example, at least excuses -formed to that intent prevaileth much with such kind of religious -women.] Sister, replyed the other Nun, speake your minde boldly, and -beleeve it (on my Maiden-head) that I will never reveale it to any -creature living. Encouraged by this solemne answer, the first Nun thus -prosecuted her former purpose, saying. I know not Sister, whether -it hath entred into thine understanding or no, how strictly we are -here kept and attended, never any man daring to adventure among us, -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 oftentimes bin told me, -by Gentle-women comming hither to visite us, 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 unkind parents, binding us to -perpetuall chastity, which they were never able to observe themselves. - -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 discovering the same to her Ghostly Father in -confession; he absolved her of that sinne; affirming, that she had -not transgressed with a man, because he wanted his rationall and -understanding parts. Behold Sister, heere lyes a creature, almost -formed in the selfe-same mold, dumb and deafe, which are two the -most rational and understanding 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 Lawes and constitutions of our -Religion doth teach us, that a sinne so assuredly concealed, is more -then halfe absolved. - -_Ave Maria_ Sister (said the other Nunne) what kinde of words are these -you utter? Doe not you know, that wee have promised our virginity to -God? Oh Sister (answered the other) how many things are promised to -him every day, and not one of a thousand kept or performed? If wee -have made him such a promise, and some of our weaker witted Sisters do -performe it for us, 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 prove 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 us consider -on it then: thou art but a Novice in matters of such moment, and wee -are provided of a thousand meanes, whereby to prevent conception. Or, -if they should faile, wee are so surely fitted, that the world shall -never know it: let it suffice, our lives 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 selves, -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, heard 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 -behaviour: into the close Arbour they went, which the Sunnes bright -eye could not pierce into, and there I leave it to the Nunnes owne -approbation, whether _Massetto_ was a man rationall, or no. Ill deedes -require longer time to contrive, then act, and both the Nunnes, having -beene with _Massetto_ at this new forme of confession, were enjoyned -(by him) such an easie and silent penance, as brought them the oftner -to shrift, and made him to proove a perfect Confessour. - -Desires obtained, but not fully satisfied, doe commonly urge more -frequent accesse, then wisdome thinkes expedient, or can continue -without discoverie. Our two Joviall Nunnes, not a little proud of -their private stolne pleasures, so long resorted to the close Arbour; -till an other Sister, who had often observed 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 upon a further -conference had with the offenders, they changed opinion, tooke the same -oath as the forewoman had done, and because they would be free from any -taxation at all: they revealed their adventures to the other three -ignorants, and so fell all eight into one formall confederacie, but by -good and warie observation, 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 under an Almond tree, having then very little -businesse to doe, because he had wrought hard all the night before. -Shee observed him to be an hansome man, young, lusty, well limbde, and -proportioned, having a mercifull commisseration of his dumbnesse and -deafenesse, being perswaded also in like manner, that if he were an -Eunuch too, he deserved 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 resolved, -almost falling sicke of the other Nunnes disease. Having awaked him, -she commanded him (by signes) that he should follow her to her chamber, -where he was kept 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 advanced 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 -behaviour pleased her so well, as it procured his daily repairing -thither; and acquainted her with such familiar conversation, as shee -would have 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 undertaken a taske belonging to great _Hercules_, -in giving contentment 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 have often heard it said, that one Cocke may doe service -to ten severall Hennes, but ten men can (very hardly) even with all -their best endeavour, give full satisfaction every way to one woman; -and yet I am tied to content nine, which is farre beyond the compasse -of my power to doe. Already have I performed so much Garden and -Chamber-worke, that I confesse my selfe starke tired, and can travaile -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 served there dumbe; being stricken into -admiration, and accounting it almost a miracle, saide. How commeth this -to passe? I verily beleeved 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 have not onely -recovered againe this night, but shall ever remaine thankfull to you -for it. - -The Abbesse verily credited his answer, demanding what he meant, -in saying, that he did service to nine? Madam, quoth he, this were -a dangerous question, and not easily answered before all the eight -Sisters. Upon this reply, the Abbesse plainly perceived, 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 recovery of -speech revealed, and some things elsee more neerely concerning them: by -generall consent, & with the good liking of _Massetto_, he was created -the _Fac-totum_ of the Monasterie. - -All the neighbouring people dwelling thereabout, who knew _Massetto_ -to be dumbe, by fetching home wood daily from the Forrest, and divers -employments in other places; were made to beleeve that by the Nunnes -devoute 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_, having 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 never 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 Native 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, having (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 discovered by the -King, and the party knowne, he gave 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 Novell. - -_Wherein is signified, the providence of a wise man, when he shall -have reason to use revenge. And the cunning craft of another, when hee -compasseth meanes to defend himselfe from perill._ - - -When the Novell 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 (neverthelesse) make shew -of knowing and understanding such things, as neither they are able to -doe, nor appertaine to them: whereby they will sometimes reprehend -other mens errors, and such faults as they have unwillingly 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. - -_Agilulffo_, King of _Lombardie_, according as his Predecessours -had done before him, made the principall seate of his Kingdome, in -the Citie of _Pavia_, having 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 -unfortunate 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 providence 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 -servile condition, had endued him with so much understanding, as to -know infallibly, that his affection was mounted, beyond the compasse of -conveniencie; wisely hee concealed it to himselfe, not acquainting any -one therewith, or daring so much, as to discover it either by lookes, -or any other affectionate behaviour. - -And although hee lived utterly hopelesse, of ever attaining to his -hearts desires; yet notwithstanding, hee proudly gloried, that his love -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 above his -fellowes and companions, in the performing of all such serviceable -duties, as any way he imagined might content the Queene. Whereon -ensued, that whensoever shee roade abroad to take the ayre, shee used -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 gave dayly his due attendance: -so that, to touch the Stirrope, but (much more) to put her foote into -it, or touch any part of her garments, he thought it the onely heaven -on earth. - -But, as we see it oftentimes come to passe, that by how much the lower -hope declineth, so much the higher love ascendeth; even so fel it out -with this poore Querry; for, most irkesome was it to him, to endure the -heavy waight of his continuall oppressions, not having any hope at all -of the very least mitigation. And being utterly unable to relinquish -his love divers times he resolved on some desperate conclusion, which -might yet give the world an evident testimony, that he dyed for the -love he bare to the Queene. And upon 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 -missive of his love; 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, -under 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 -usuall habit was of the King, when he came to keepe companie with his -Queene: he hid himselfe divers 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 using 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 observed. - -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 -conveighed away thence with him, being provided 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 elsee 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 adventures upon his lives perill. Twice hee knockt softly -at the doore, which a wayting woman immediately opened, and receyving -the Light, went forth into the Gallery, while the supposed King, was -conversing with 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 having compassed what he most coveted, 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, unheard or discerned by -any of his fellowes, divers 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 mervaile of the drowsie wayting woman, -who was never 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 Majestie was become more pleasantly disposed, whereat -the Queene began not a little to mervaile. Now trust mee Sir, quoth -shee, this hath been a long wished, and now most welcome alteration, -vouchsafing 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 advisedly) hee considered, that in regard the party -was unknowne 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 -have answered and sworne; I came not hither this night, till now. -Whereupon many dangers might ensue, to the dishonour and prejudice of -the Queene; beside, hir error being discovered to hir, might afterward -be an occasion, to urge a wandring in her appetite, and to covet 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 -discover, 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 only desire you to have 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 injurie -offered him; he wrapt his night-mantle about him, and leaving his -Chamber, imagining, that whatsoever he was, needes he must be one of -his owne house: he tooke a light in his hand, and convayed it into -a little Lanthorne, purposing to be resolved 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 divers beds. Now, this was his conceite, that -whosoever 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 discovering 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 usurped his place, who could not as yet sleepe, for joy of -his atchieved adventure. 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 discovered his agony. And although -many considerations were in his braine, yet because he saw that the -King was unarmed, 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, whereby to gather a grounded -probability; untill 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. - -Neverthelesse, purposing to make no apparance of his further intention, -he did nothing elsee 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 used 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; perceived plainely (being a subtill ingenious fellow) -for what intent he was thus marked. Wherefore, without any longer -dallying, up he rose, and taking a paire of sheares, wherewith they -used 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 perceived by any one of them, quietly he laide him downe -againe. - -In the morning, when the King was risen, he gave command that before -the Pallace gates were opened, all his whole Family should come before -him, as instantly his will was fulfilled. Standing all uncovered 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 have -their lockes cut, all after one and the selfe same manner; marvailing -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 deject or common understanding. 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 revenge: -but rather (by way of admonition) to let the offender know in a word, -that he was both noted and observed. 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 have served 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 upon the very least babling rumor. -Such therefore as heard the Kings words, few though they were, yet -truly wise; marvelled much at them, and by long examinations among -themselves, questioned, but came far short of his meaning; the man -onely excepted, whom indeede they concerned, and by whom they were -never discovered, so long as the King lived, neither did he dare at any -time after, to hazard his life in the like action, under the frownes or -favour of Fortune. - - - - -_Under colour of Confession, and of a most pure conscience, a faire -young Gentlewoman, being amourously affected to an honest man; induced -a devoute and solemne religious Friar, to advise her in the meanes -(without his suspition or perceiving) how to enjoy the benefit of her -friend, and bring her desires to their full effect._ - -The third Novell. - -_Declaring, that the leude and naughty qualities of some persons, doe -oftentimes misguide good people, into very great and greevous 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, turning 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 jest, but earnest) by a faire Gentlewoman, to a -grave and devoute religious Friar, which will yeelde so much the -more pleasure and recreation, to every secular understander, if but -diligently he or shee doe observe; how commonly those religious persons -(at least the most part of them) like notorious fooles, are the -inventers of new courses and customes, as thinking themselves more wise -and skilful in all things then any other; yet prove to be of no worth -or validity, addicting the very best of all their devises, to expresse -their owne vilenesse of minde, and fatten themselves in their sties, -like to pampered Swine. And assure your selves worthy Ladies, that -I doe not tell this Tale onely to follow the order enjoyned me; but -also to informe you that such Saint-like holy Sirs, of whom we are too -opinative and credulous, may be, yea, and are (divers 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 love or -faithfull dealing) there lived 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 Novell, I meane not to make manifest, -albeit I know them, because some are yet living, and thereby may be -scandalized; and therefore it shall suffice to passe them over 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 lived by the making and selling of Cloth: shee could -not (because he was a Trades-man) take downe the height of her minde; -conceiving, that no man of meane condition (how rich soever) was worthy -to enjoy a Gentlewoman in marriage. Observing moreover, that with all -his wealth and treasure, he understood nothing better, then to open -skeines of yarne, fill shuttles, lay webbes in Loomes, or dispute with -his Spinsters, about their businesse. - -Being thus over-swayed with her proud opinion, shee would no longer -be embraced, or regarded by him in any manner, saving 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 love, 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 understand it, neither by any womans close conveyed -message, nor yet by Letters, as fearing the perils which happen in such -cases. But her eye observing his daily walkes and resorts, gave her -notice of his often conversing 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. - -Having considered with her selfe, what course was best to be observed -in this case; upon a day, apt and convenient, shee went to the Convent, -where he kept, and having caused him to be called, shee told him, that -if his leysure so served, 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 convenient, that I should have recourse -to you, to be assisted by your help and councell, in a matter which I -will impart unto 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 -have it of him, he being a most rich man, and may very sufficiently -affoord it. In regard whereof, I love him equally as my selfe, and, -setting aside my best endeavours for him; I must tell you one thing, -if I should do anything contrary to his liking and honour, no woman -can more worthily deserve death, then my selfe. Understand then, good -Father, that there is a man, whose name I know not, but hee seemeth -to be honest, and of good worth; moreover (if I am not deceived) 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 never 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 mervaile, that he is not now here. - -Let me tell you holy Sir, that such behaviours, doe many times lay bad -imputations upon very honest women, yet without any offence in them. -It hath often run in my minde, to let him have knowledge thereof by my -brethren: but afterward I considered, that men (many times) deliver -messages in such sort, as draw on very ungentle 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 -priviledgeth 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 (even for our blessed -Ladies sake) that you would give him a friendly reprehension, and -advise him, to use such unmanly 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, beleeved -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 usuall -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, giving 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 enjoyned her, shee promised to -make her parents bountifull benefactours to the Convent, 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 -usuall manner, and having done his duty to the holy Father; they sate -downe together privately, falling out of one discourse into another. -At the length, the Frier (in very loving and friendly sort) mildly -reproved him, for such amorous glaunces, and other pursuites, which -(as he thought) hee dayly used to the Gentlewoman, according to -her owne speeches. The Gentleman mervailed greatly thereat, as one -that had never 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. Never make such admiration at the -matter, neither waste more words in these stout denials, because they -cannot serve thy turne: I tell thee plainely, I heard it not from any -neighbours, but even 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 under -the seale of absolute assurance) that she is the onely woman of the -world, who (in my true judgement) doth hate and abhorre all such base -behaviour. Wherefore, in regard of thine owne honour, as also not to -vexe & prejudice so vertuous a Gentlewoman: I pray thee refrain such -idlenes henceforward, & suffer hir to live in peace. - -The Gentleman, being a little wiser then his ghostly Father, perceived -immediatly (without any further meditating on the matter) the notable -pollicie of the woman: whereupon, making somewhat bashfull appearance -of any error already committed; hee said, hee would afterward be better -advised. 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 observe, when hee should walke -that way: And seeing him comming, she shewed her selfe so joyfull, -and gracious to him, as he easily understood, whereto the substance -of the holy Fathers chiding tended. And, from that time forward, hee -used dayly, though in covert manner (to the no little liking of the -Gentlewoman and himselfe) to make his passage through that streete, -under 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 convenient 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 perceiving, sorrowfully demanded of her, what new accident had -happened? Holy Father (quoth shee) no novell accident, but onely your -wicked and ungracious friend, by whom (since I was here with you, yea, -no longer agoe then yesterday) I have beene so wronged, as I verily -beleeve that hee was borne to be my mortall enemie, and to make me doe -something to my utter disgrace for ever; 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 abusively? - -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 evill part, to be contraried in his wanton humours, hath (meerely in -despight) walked seaven times in a day by my doore, whereas formerly, -he never used it above 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 -even 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 -grievously offended, as had it not beene for my due respect and feare -of God, and next the sacred reverence I beare to you my ghostly Father; -doubtlesse, I had done some wicked deede. Neverthelesse, happily I -withstood it, and will neither say or doe any thing in this case, till -first I have made it knowne to you. - -Then I called to minde, that having redelivered 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 beleeve, that I had -received them (as I have heard such kind of women use to doe sometimes) -and in anger I snatcht them from her, and have brought them hither to -you, to the end that you may give him them againe; and tell him, I have -no neede of any such things, thankes be to Heaven 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 just excuse, that if -he will not abstaine from thus molesting me, I will disclose it to my -Husband, Father, and Brethren, whatsoever shall ensue thereon: for I -had rather he should receive the injury (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 counterfeit sobbes, sighes, and teares, these wordes -were delivered; and drawing foorth from under her gowne, a very faire -and rich purse, as also a Girdle of great worth, shee threw them into -the Friers lap. - -He verily beleeving all this false report, being 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, not will any wise man reproove 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 -leave off from further injurying 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 covetousness of -him and his equals, she said. Holy Father, some few nights past, me -thought in my sleepe, that divers spirits of my kindred appeared to me -in a vision, who (me thought) were in very great paines, and desired -nothing else but Almes; especially my God-mother, who seemed to bee -afflicted with such extreme poverty, 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 deliver her soule and the others, out of those fearfull -flames; among your infinite other devout prayers, I would have you to -say the fortie Masses of S. _Gregory_, as a meanes for their happy -deliverance, 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 devotion: and when he had given 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 behaviour 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 utterly 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 ever saw them till now. - -The Gentleman, seeming as if he were much ashamed, saide. Truely -Father I do know them, and confesse that I have done ill, and very -greatly offended: but now I will sweare unto you, seeing I understande -how firmely she is affected, that you shall never heare any more -complaints of me. Such were his vowes and protestations, as in the end -the ghostly Father gave him both the Purse and Girdle: then after he -had preached, & severely conjured him, never more to vexe her with any -gifts at all, and he binding himselfe thereto by a solemne promise, -he gave him license to depart. Now grew the Gentleman very jocond, -being so surely certified of his Mistresses love, 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 receyved from her, whereof -she was extraordinarily joyfull, because her devices grew still better -and better; nothing now wanting, but her husbands absence, upon some -journey 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 journey to _Geneway_; and no sooner was hee mounted on -horsebacke, taking leave 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 just reason of my anger, and full purpose to avoid all further -molestation. - -Your friend I cannot terme him, but (questionles) a very divel of hell. -This morning, before the breake of day, having heard (but how, I know -not) that my husband was ridden to _Geneway_: got over the wall into my -Garden, and climbing up a tree which standeth close before my chamber -window, when I was fast asleepe, opened the Casement, and would have -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 never 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 -never saw him, or heard any tidings of him. Now judge you, holy Father, -whether these be honest courses, or no, and to be endured by any civil -Gentlewoman; neither would I so patiently have suffered this, but onely -in my dutifull reverence 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 divers times, whether she knew him so perfectly, that she did not -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 over-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 dishonour, and twice already thou hast credited my counsell, let -me now advise thee this last time. Spare speech, or complaining to any -other of thy friends, and leave it to me, to try if I can overcome -this unchained divel, 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 give thee leave to do, even what thy heart will best -tutor thee to. You see Sir (said shee) what manner of man he is, yet -would I not have you troubled or disobeyed, only I desire to live -without disturbance, which work (I beseech you) as best you may: for -I promise you, good Father, never to solicite you more uppon 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, gave him the most injurious words that could be used to a man, -calling him disloyall, perjured, and a traitor. Hee who had formerly -twice perceived, how high the holy mans anger mounted, did nothing but -expect what he wold say; and, like a man extreamly perplexed, strove -how to get it from him, saying; Holy Father, how come you to be so -heinously offended? What have I done to incense you so strangely? Heare -mee dishonest wretch answered the Frier, listen what I shall say unto -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? Wheresoever 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 upon urgent necessity. - -After a little curbing in of his wrath, somewhat in a milder strain, -thus he proceeded. Because the Gentlewomans husband is journeyed to -_Geneway_, proves this a ladder to your hope, that to embrace her in -your armes, you must climbe over the Garden wall, like a treacherous -robber in the night season, mount up a tree before her Chamber window, -open the Casement, as hoping to compasse that by importunity, which her -spotlesse chastity will never permit. There is nothing in the world, -that possibly she can hate more then you, and yet you will love 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 loving -admonishments might have 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 injuries 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 have given her free license, if ever -heereafter you offer to attempt her any more, to make her complaint -before her Brethren, which will redound to your no meane danger. - -The Gentleman, having wisely collected his Love-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 misbehaviour of his. And being gone from him, followed the -instructions given in her complaint, by climbing over 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 favour of his -Daughter._ - -The fourth Novell. - -_Wherein is declared, what craft and subtilty some wily wits can -devise, to deceive 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 strive 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 have 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 endeavours to Alchimy: -wherefore, he kept no other family, but onely a widdowed daughter, and -a servant; and because he had no other Art or exercise, hee used 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 above 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 have done, but when she communed or jested with any -body, she would talke of nothing, but onely concerning the great vertue -in Alchimy, extolling it above 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 resolve him in -many doubts, depending on his profession of Alchimy, (himselfe having -onely practise, but no great learning) he used many questions to him, -shewed him very especiall matters of secrecy, entertaining him often to -dinners and suppers, whensoever he pleased to come and converse with -him; and his daughter likewise, perceiving with what favour her Father -respected him, became the more familiar with him, allowing him good -regard and reverence. - -The young man continuing his resort to the House of _Puccio_, and -observing 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 save anothers labour, supply -them by his best endeavours. Thus not alwayes carrying his eyes before -him, but using 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 observing the same, as occasion -first smiled on him, and allowed him favourable 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) used to watch well neere all the night, -as commonly he did, each night after other, never stirring foorth of -the roomes, which much abated the edge of the young mans appetite. -After infinite intricate revolvings, wheeling about his busied braine, -he thought it not altogether an _Herculian_ taske, to enjoy his -happinesse in the house, and without any suspition, albeit _Puccio_ -kept still within doores, and watched as hee was wont to doe. - -Upon a day as he sate in familiar conference with _Puccio_, he began -to speake unto him in this manner; I have many times noted, kinde -friend _Puccio_, that all thy desire and endeavour 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 observed -and followed, yet were never willing to instruct other men therein; -whereby the misterie might be drowned in oblivion, and prosecuted by -none but onely great Lords, that are able to undergoe it. But because -thou art mine especiall friend, and I have received from thee infinite -kind favours; whereas I never 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 understand 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 unto him, never to disclose it to any person, except -hee gave his consent thereto; affirming beside, that it was a rarity, -not easie to be comprehended by very apprehensive judgements. Well -(quoth _Felice_) seeing thou hast made me such a sound and solemne -promise, I will make it knowne unto thee. - -Know then friend _Puccio_, the Philosophers do hold, that such as covet -to become rich indeed, must understand 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 even as rich as now thou -art; but thou shalt plainly perceive, that the very grosest substance, -which hitherto thou hast seene, all of them shal be 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, he must give very carefull -attendance, wholly abstaining from sleepe, slumbering, or so much as -nodding all that while. - -Moreover, in some apt and convenient 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 -upright on thy feete, and leaning the reines of thy backe against it; -thou must stande stedfastly in that manner every night, without the -least motion or stirring, untill the breake of day appeareth, and -thine eyes still uppon the Furnace fixed, to keepe ever in memory, the -true order which I have prescribed. So soone as the morning is seene, -thou mayst (if thou wilt) walke, or rest a little upon thy bed, and -afterward go about thy businesse, if thou have any. Then go to dinner, -attending readily till the evenings approch, preparing such things -as I will readily set thee downe in writing, without which there is -not any thing to bee done; and then returne to the same taske againe, -not varying a jot from the course directed. Before the time be fully -expired, thou shalt perceive many apparant signes, that the stone is -still in absolute forwardnesse, but it will bee utterly lost if thou -fayle in the least of all the observances. And when the experience hath -crowned thy labour, thou art sure to have the Philosophers stone, and -thereby shalt be able to enrich all, and worke wonders beside. - -_Puccio_ instantly replied. Now trust me Sir, there is no 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 favour, in helping to direct the Furnace and Table, -according as you imagine most convenient) 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 understood sufficiently, and what would ensue on his -nightly watching in that manner, returning him answer, that whatsoever -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 upon -his adventure. Concluded it was, that every night the Scholler must -come to Supper, partly to bee a witnesse of his constant performance, -but more especially for his owne advantage. - -The place which _Puccio_ had chosen, for his hopefull attaining to the -Philosophers Stone, was close to the Chamber where his daughter lay, -having no other separation or division, but an old ruinous tottring -wall. So that, when the Scholler was playing his prize, _Puccio_ heard -an unwonted noise in the house, which he had never observed before, -neither knew the wall to have 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_ mervailing at this answer, knowing she never gave 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 have 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 have 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 deceived, 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 have care of my selfe. - -To prevent any more of these nightly 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 divers 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 use of -_Puccioes_ folly, and found benefit thereby, to keepe him out of wants, -which is the bane and overthrow of numberlesse good wits. And _Puccio_ -dying, before the date of his limitted time, because hee failed of the -Philosophers Stone, _Isabetta_ joyned 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, gave a Horse to_ Signior Francesco -Vergellisi, _upon condition, that (by his leave 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 Novell. - -_Wherein is described the frailety of some Women, and folly of such -Husbands, as leave them alone to their owne disposition._ - - -_Pamphilus_ having ended the Novell of _Puccio_ the Alchimist, the -Queene fixing her eye on Madam _Eliza_, gave order, that shee should -succeede with hers next. When shee looking somewhat more austerely, -then any of the rest, not in any spleen, but as it was her usuall -manner, thus began. The World containeth some particular people who doe -beleeve (because themselves know something) that others are ignorant in -all things; who for the most part, while they intend to make a scorne -of other men, upon the proofe, doe finde themselves to carry away the -scorne. And therefore I account it no meane follie in them, who (upon -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 perceive 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 upon _Florence_, there lived 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 provident, but gripple, covetous, and too close handed, without -respect to his worth 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, which he knew not by any meanes how -to compasse, so loath he was to lay out money, albeit his credit much -depended thereon. - -At the same time, there lived in _Pistoya_ likewise, a young man, named -_Ricciardo_, derived 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 -advantage 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 loved dearely, for his faire forme, and other good -parts. Upon a flying rumor throughout _Pistoria_, that he daily made -love 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 give it him, in regard of the love he bare to -his Wife. - -The base minded Knight, coveting to have 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 have him of free gift. The -_Magnifico_ hearing his request, was not a little joyfull hereof, and -thus answered; Sir, if you would give 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 upon this condition, -that before you have him delivered, 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 avaricious -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 leaving him in the great Hall of the house, he went to his Wives -Chamber, and told her, how easily he might enjoy the Horse; 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 covetousnesse should -serve as a cloake, to cover any unfitting speeches, which her chaste -eares could never endure to heare: neverthelesse, 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 have (no doubt) a long while since perceived, what -unfained 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 utterly needlesse, to let you understand by words, -how faithfull the love is I beare you, were it not much more fervent -and constant, then ever 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 enjoy 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 love you -perpetually. Whereby you may rest confidently perswaded, that you enjoy -not any thing, how poore or precious soever 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 have, or for ever 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 service, as -consisteth in mine ability to performe, and in your courteous favour -to accept, yea, if it were to travaile 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 adventure (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 servant, 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 divine -beauty enflamed mine affections, even 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 have I -committed, in being so unmercifull to my _Magnifico_. Repentance then -serves to no purpose, but you must answere for such unkinde cruelty. -Wherefore, to prevent 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, hovering and haunting about -your bed; let all these move you to milde mercy, and spill not life, -when you may save it. - -So the _Magnifico_ ceasing, with teares streaming from his eyes, and -sighes breaking from his heart, he sate still in exspectation of -the Ladies answere, who made neither long or short of the matter, -neither Tilts not Tourneying, nor many lost mornings and evenings, -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 love: Moved now in this -very houre, by these solemne protestations, or rather most prevailing -asseverations; she began to finde that in her, which (before) she -never felt, namely Love. And although (to keepe her promise made to -her husband) shee spake not a word: yet her heart heaving, 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 give him any answere at all; he could not -chuse but wonder thereat, yet at length perceived, that it was thus -cunningly contrived by her husband. Notwithstanding, observing 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 motives to advance 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 uttered 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. -Neverthelesse, if heretofore I have seemed cruell and unkinde to thee, -I would not have thee thinke, that my heart was any way guilty of my -outward severity; but did evermore love thee, and held thee dearer then -any man living. 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 just guerdon of thy constant love, which long thou hast, and -still doest beare to me. Wherefore comfort thy selfe, and dwell upon -this undoubted 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 given him thy goodly ambling Gelding, -and so soone as hee is gone, I promise thee upon my word, and by the -faithfull love I beare thee: that I will have further conference with -thee, and let thee understand somewhat more of my minde. And because -this is neither fitting time nor place, to discourse on matters of such -serious moment; observe heereafter, as a signall, when thou seest my -crimson skarfe hanging in the window of my Chamber, which is upon the -Garden side; that evening (so soone as it is night) come to the Garden -gate, with wary respect, that no eye doe discover 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 joy, for this your gracious and welcome -answere; that my sences so fayle mee, and all my faculties quite -forsake me, as I cannot give you such thankes as I would. And if I -could speake equally to my desire, yet the season sutes not therewith, -neither were it convenient that I should be so troublesome to you. Let -me therefore humbly beseech you, that the desire I have to accomplish -your will (which words availe not to expresse) may remaine in your -kinde consideration. And, as you have 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 elsee to -doe, but, under the protection of your gracious pardon, I to give over -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? have I not -kept my promise with thee? No Sir, answered the _Magnifico_, for you -promised I should speake with your wife, and you have made mee talke -to a marble Statue. This answere was greatly pleasing to the Knight, -who, although hee had an undoubted 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 have ensued on the bargaine; -without your motion for the horse, I would have given him you: and I -am sorie that I did not, because now you have bought my horse, and yet -I have not sold him. The Knight laughed heartily at this answere, and -being thus provided of so faire a beast, he rode on his journey to -_Millaine_, and there entred into his authority of _Podesta_. - -The Lady remained now in liberty at home, considering on the -_Magnificoes_ words, and likewise the Gelding, which (for her sake) -was given 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 under her Colours. The -Story saith, that among many of her much better meditations, she was -heard to talke thus idely to herselfe. What doe I meane? Wherefore is -my youth? The olde miserable man is gone to _Millaine_, and God knoweth -when hee comes backe againe, ever, or never. 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. Upon these un-Lady-like private -consultations, whether the window shewed the signall or no; it is no -matter belonging to my charge: I say, husbands are unwise, to graunt -such ill advantages, and wives much worse, if they take hold of them, -onely judge you the best, and so the Tale is ended. - - - - -Ricciardo Minutolo _fell in love with the Wife of_ Philippello -Fighinolfi, _and knowing her to be very jealous of her Husband, gave -her to understand, that he was greatly enamoured of his wife, and had -appointed to meete her privately in a Bathing house, on the next day -following: Where she hoping to take him tardie with his close compacted -Mistresse, found herselfe to be deceived by the said_ Ricciardo. - -The sixth Novell. - -_Declaring, how much perseverance, and a couragious spirit is -availeable in love._ - - -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 -Novelse, who (smilingly) made answere that she would, and began thus. -Gracious Ladies, me thinkes wee have spoken enough already, concerning -our owne Citie, which as it aboundeth copiously in all commodities, -so is it an example also to every convenient purpose. And as Madam -_Eliza_ hath done, by recounting occasions happening in another World, -so must we now leape a little further off, even so farre as _Naples_, -to see how one of those Saint-like Dames, that nicely seemes to shun -Loves 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 error 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 elsee-where, and he -became enamoured of another, which (in generall opinion) surpassed all -the _Neapolitane_ women elsee, in feature, favour, and the choysest -perfections, shee being named Madam _Catulla_, wife to as gallant a -young Gentleman, called _Philippello Fighinolfi_, who most dearely he -loved beyond all other, for her vertue and admired chastity. - -_Ricciardo_ loving this Madam _Catulla_, and using 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 unlikely 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 advised by -some of his best friends, utterly 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 unstayned loyaltie to -her Husband; and yet shee lived in such extreme jealousie of him, as -fearing least some bird flying in the Ayre, should snatch him from her. - -_Ricciardo_ not unacquainted with this her jealous humour, as well -by credible hearing thereof, as also by daily observation; 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 ever enjoying the love of Madam _Catulla_, because he was -now become the servant to another Gentlewoman, pretending (in her -honour) to performe many worthy actions of Armes, Jousts, 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 -love to her was quite changed, and the new elected Lady had all the -glory of his best endeavours, persevering 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) gave 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 used to meete together (according -to a custome long observed 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 love to his new elected -Mistresse: which _Minutolo_ graced with so solemne a countenance, as -it ministred much more matter of conference, all coveting to know what -shee was. - -So farre they walked, and held on this kinde of discoursing, as every -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_ -having few females left with her, stayed behind with _Minutolo_, who -suddenly shot foorth a word, concerning her husband _Philippello_, & -of his loving another woman beside her selfe. She that was overmuch -jealous 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_, even for the -Ladies sake, whose love he had so devoutly embraced, to resolve her -certainely, in this strange alteration of her Husband; whereunto thus -he answered. - -Madam, you have so straitly conjured me, by urging 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, untill you have seene by effect, that which I have -tolde you proveth to be true: and when you please, I will instruct you -how your selfe shall see it. The Lady was not a little joyfull, to be -thus satisfied in her Husbands follie, and constantly crediting his -words to be true, shee sware a solemne oath, that no one alive should -ever know it. So stepping a little further aside, because no listening -eare should heare him, thus he beganne. - -Lady, if I did love you now so effectually, as heretofore I have done, -I should be very circumspect, in uttering 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 beleeved, that I -received any kindnesse from you: but whether it were so or no, I could -never discerne it by any outward apparance. But now awaiting for the -opportunity of time, which he conceived should affoord me the least -suspition; he seekes to compasse that, which (I doubt) he feares I -would have done to him, in plaine termes Madam, to have his pleasure -of my wife. And as by some carriages I have observed, within few dayes -past, he hath solicited and pursued his purpose very secretly, by many -Ambassages, and other meanes, as (indeede) I have learned from her -selfe, and alwayes shee hath returned in such answers, as shee received -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 have with her; and -shee tolde me it was another pursuite of _Philippello Fighinolfi_, -who (quoth shee) upon such answers as you have caused me to send him -from time to time, perhaps doth gather some hope of prevailing in the -ende, which maketh him still to importune me as he doth. And now he -adventureth so farre, as to understand my finall intention, having 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 enjoy 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 frivolous answers; I would (long ere this) have -sent him such a message, as should have 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 perceive, how -well you are rewarded, for the faithfull and loyall love you beare him, -and for which I was even 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) approve 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 themselves, in regard of the heates violence; with which -answere the woman returned very jocondly. Let me now tell you Lady, I -hope you have better opinion of my wit, then any meaning in me, to send -my wife thither; I rather did it to this ende, that having acquainted -you with his treacherous intent, you should supply my wives place, by -saving both his reputation and your owne, and frustrating his unkind -purpose to me. Moreover, upon the view of his owne delusion, wrought by -my wife in meere love to you, he shall see his foule shame, and your -most noble care, to keepe the rites of marriage betweene you still -unstained. - -Madame _Catulla_, having heard this long and unpleasing report; without -any consideration, either what he was that tolde the tale, or what a -treason he intended against her: immediatly (as jealous persons use to -doe) she gave 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 advised her, as being a matter of no -difficulty. But if he came, she would so shame and dishonour him, as no -woman whatsoever 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 -revealing the matter to any living person, as shee had sworne upon 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, giving her to understand the whole businesse, and desiring her to -be favourable 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 arrivall of Madame _Catulla_. On the same day, as she had -heard the speeches of _Ricciardo_, and gave 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 used her so kindly, as he was wont to doe. Which -_Catulla_ perceiving, shee was ten times more suspicious then before, -saying to herselfe. Now apparant trueth doth disclose it selfe, my -husbands head is troubled now with nothing elsee, but _Ricciardoes_ -wife, with whom (to morrow) he purposeth his meeting; wherein he shall -be disappointed, if I live; 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, never disallowed such -meetings of men with their wives, 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 loving manner; yet not daring to speake, least he should know -her, but suffered him to proceede in his owne error. - -Let passe the wanton follies passing betweene them, and come to Madame -_Catulla_, who finding it a fit and convenient 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 love, -of many wives to their husbands? I, a poore miserable Lady, who, for -the space of eight yeares now fully compleated, have loved 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 elsee-where. I am thine owne -_Catulla_, and not the wife of _Ricciardo_, trayterous and unfaithfull -man, as thou art. I am sure thou knowest my voyce, and I thinke it a -thousand yeares, untill wee may see each other in the light, to doe -thee such dishonour as thou justly deserveth, dogged, disdainefull, -and villainous wretch. By conceiving to have another woman in thy -wanton embraces, thou hast declared more joviall 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, devill, and no man? What, have my words -smitten thee dumbe? Thou mayest (with shame enough) hold thy peace, for -with the face of a man, and love 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 -behaviour 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 byas from thy reckoning: for -I shall never imagine my selfe halfe satisfied, untill in the presence -of my parents, friends, and neighbours, I have revealed thy base -behaviour. 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 loveth mee -beyond all other women in _Naples_, and yet could never vaunt, that I -gave 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 -revenge soundly upon thee. - -The exclamations of the Lady were so tedious and irksome, that -_Ricciardo_ perceiving, if she continued longer in these complaints, -worse would ensue thereon, then could be easily remedied: resolved -to make himselfe knowne to her, to reclaime her out of this violent -extasie, and holding her somewhat strictly, to prevent her escaping -from him, he said. Madam, afflict your selfe no further, for, what I -could not obtaine by simply loving you, subtilty hath better taught me, -and I am your _Ricciardo_, which she hearing, and perfectly knowing him -by his voyce; shee would have leapt out of the Bath, but shee could -not, and to avoyde her crying out, he layde his hand on her mouth, -saying. Lady, what is done, cannot now be undone, albeit you cried -out all your lifetime. If you exclaime, or make this knowne openly by -any meanes; two unavoydable 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, -avouching, that having corrupted you with gold, and not giving you -so much as covetously 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 beleeve the worst, then any goodnesse, be it never -so manifest. Next unto 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 live in any true contentment after. Wherefore, -joy 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 deceived. I have not beguiled -you, to take any honour from you, but onely declared, the faithfull -affection I beare you, and so shall doe for ever, as being your bounden -and most obedient servant; and as it is a long time agoe, since I -dedicated my selfe and all mine to your service, so hence-forth must -I remaine for ever. You are wise enough (I know) in all other things; -then shew your selfe not to be silly or simple in this. - -_Ricciardo_ uttered 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 jealous folly had now brought her to, -a shame beyond all other whatsoever: in the midst of her tormenting -passions, she considered on the words of _Ricciardo_, found good reason -in them, in regard of the unavoydable evils, whereupon shee thus -spake. _Ricciardo_, I know not how to beare the horrible injurie, and -notorious treason used by thee against me, grace and goodnesse having -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 -devillish jealousie, did conduct me. But certaine I am of one thing, -that I shall never see any one joyfull day, till (by one meanes or -other) I be revenged on thee. Thou hast glutted thy desire with my -disgrace, let me therefore goe from thee, never more to looke upon my -wronged husband, or let any honest woman ever see my face. - -_Ricciardo_ perceiving the extremity of her perplexed minde, used -all manly and milde perswasions, which possibly he could devise to -doe, to turne the torrent of this high tide, to a calmer course; as -by outward shew shee made apparance of, untill (in frightfull feares -shunning every one shee met withall, as arguments of her guiltinesse) -shee recovered her owne house, where remorse so tortured her distressed -soule, that shee fell into so fierce a melancholy, as never left her -till shee died. Upon the report whereof, _Ricciardo_ becomming likewise -a widdower, and grieving extraordinarily for his haynous transgression, -penitently betooke himselfe to live in a wildernesse, where (not long -after) he ended his dayes. - - - - -Thebaldo Elisei, _having received an unkinde repulse by his beloved, -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 unto her. He delivered her Father from the danger of -death, because it was proved, that he had slaine_ Thebaldo: _he made -peace with his brethren, and in the ende, wisely enjoyed his hearts -desire._ - -The seaventh Novell. - -_Wherein is signified the power of Love, and the diversity of dangers, -whereinto men may daily fall._ - - -So ceased _Fiammetta_ her discourse, being generally commended, when -the Queene, to prevent the losse of time, commanded _Æmillia_ 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, recovered the kindnesse of his Love, after he had lost it. - -Sometime there dwelt in _Florence_ a young gentleman, named _Thebaldo -Elisei_, descended of a noble House, who became earnestly enamored of a -Widdow, called _Hermelina_, the daughter to _Aldobrandino Palermini_: -well deserving, for his vertues and commendable qualities, to enjoy of -her whatsoever he could desire. Secretly they were espoused together, -but Fortune, the enemy to Lovers felicities, opposed her malice -against them, in depriving _Thebaldo_ of those deare delights, which -sometime he held in free possession, and making him as a stranger to -her gracious favours. 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 unkindnesse so wisely to himselfe, -as no one could understand the reason of his sadnesse. - -After he had laboured by all hopefull courses, to obtaine that favour -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 -endeavours 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 unhappinesse. 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 travelled to _Ancona_, -where he termed himselfe by the name of _Sandolescio_. Repairing to a -wealthy Merchant there, he placed himselfe as his servant, and went in -a Ship of his with him to _Cyprus_; his actions and behaviour proved so -pleasing to the Merchant, as not onely he allowed him very sufficient -wages, but also grew into such association with him; as he gave the -most of his affaires into his hands, which he guided with such honest -and discreete care, that he himselfe (in few yeeres compasse) proved 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 love, as coveting (above all things -elsee) 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 love he bare to his Mistresse, and -what delight he conceived, 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 live, except he had a sight of her -once more, and therefore determined on his returne to _Florence_. -Having set all his affaires in due order, accompanied with a servant of -his onely, he passed to _Ancona_, where when he was arrived, he sent -his Merchandises to _Florence_, in name of the Merchant of _Ancona_, -who was his especiall friend and partner; travayling himselfe alone -with his servant, in the habite of a Pilgrime, as if he had beene newly -returned from _Jerusalem_. - -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 up, whereby he suspected her to be dead, or elsee -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 marvelled not a little; -knowing himselfe to be so transfigured, both in body and habite, farre -from the manner of common use at his parting thence, as it was a -difficult matter to know him: he stept boldly to a Shooe-makers shop -neere adjoining, and demanded the reason of their wearing mourning. -The Shoo-maker made answer thus; Sir, those men are clad in mourning, -because a brother of theirs, being named _Thebaldo_ (who hath beene -absent hence a long while) about some fifteene dayes since was slaine. -And they having heard, by proofe made in the Court of Justice, 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 -_Aldobrandino_, for whose misfortune he grieved marvellously. As -concerning his Mistresse, he understood that shee was living, 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 divers persons over 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 -have heard it assuredly, that the death of _Thebaldo Elisei_, hath -beene sufficiently approved by the Brethren, against _Aldobrandino -Palermini_, and he hath confessed the fact; whereupon the sentence is -already set downe in writing. But yet it behoveth us notwithstanding, -to conceale it very secretly, because if ever 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 upon the testimony of as false witnesses) a man most -innocent, making him ready for the stroke of death. Next, he made a -strict observation in his soule, concerning the blinded severity 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 avouched (onely for ease of paine) in the -place of a true confession, yet thinking themselves (by doing so) to be -the Ministers of God and Justice, whereas indeede they are the Divelse -executioners of his wickednesse. Lastly, converting his thoughts to -_Aldobrandino_, the imagined murtherer of a man yet living, infinite -cares beleagured his soule, in devising what might best be done for his -deliverance. - -So soone as he was risen in the morning, leaving his servant 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) moved 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 up 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 Heaven, to convert your teares into rejoycing, and to deliver -your Father from death. How is this? answered shee: If thou be of -_Constantinople_, and art but now arrived here; doest thou know who we -are, either I, or my Father? - -The Pilgrime discoursed to her, even 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 deliver 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 up -Madam, refraine from weeping, and observe attentively what I shall -say; yet with this caution, that you never reveale it to any person -whatsoever. This tribulation whereinto you are falne, (as by revelation -I am faithfully informed) is for a grievous sinne by you heretofore -committed, whereof divine 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 recovery, 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 have 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 have already: but -because in revealing it yourselfe, it may touch you with the more true -compunction of soule; let us 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, beleeving -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 divine ordinativation hath revealed -unto 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 unfortunate young Gentleman, -who (in secret) was my Husband, and whose death is imposed on my -Father. The death of him I have the more bemoaned, because (in reason) -it did neerely concerne me, by shewing my selfe so savage and rigorous -to him before his departure: neverthelesse, let me assure you Sir, that -neither his parting, long absence from me, or his untimely death, never -had the power to bereave my heart of his remembrance. - -Madame, saide the Pilgrime, the unfortunate young Gentleman that is -slaine, did never love you; but sure I am, that _Thebaldo Elisei_ loved -you dearely. But tell me, what was the occasion whereby you conceived -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 revealed (under -confession) how faithfully I affected him, and what private familiarity -had passed betweene us. When instantly he used such dreadfull -threatnings to me, and which (even yet) doe afflict my soule, that if -I did not abstaine, and utterly refuse him, the Divell would fetch me -quicke to Hell, and cast me into the bottome of his quenchlesse and -everlasting fire. - -These menaces were so prevailing with me, as I refused all further -conversation with _Thebaldo_, in which regard, I would receive 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, even 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 allowed -me one merry day, neither did I, or ever can love any man like unto him. - -At these wordes the Pilgrime sighed, and then proceeded on againe thus. -Surely Madam, this one onely sin, may justly torment you, because I -know for a certainty, that _Thebaldo_ never offered you any injury, -since the day he first became enamoured of you; and what grace or -favour you affoorded him, was your owne voluntary gift, and (as he -tooke it) no more then in modesty might well become you; for he loving -you first, you had beene most cruell and unkinde, if you should not -have requited him with the like affection. If then he continued so -just and loyall to you, as (of mine owne knowledge) I am able to say -he did; what should move you to repulse him so rudely? Such matters -ought well to be considered on before hand; for if you did imagine, -that you should repente 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 -unfitting thing for you to doe, except you had gone with his consent? - -Now Madam, let me further give you to understand, 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 unseeming for me to doe -it, as it would appeare ugly 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 have done. In -former passed times such as professed Religion, were learned and most -holy persons; but our religious professours now adayes, and such as -covet to be so esteemed; have 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 -devotion, 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 have their pride more -notoriously observed. And as the Angler bestoweth his best cunning, -with one line and baite to catch many fishes at one strike; even so -do these counterfeited habite-mongers, by their dissembling and crafty -dealing, beguile many credulous widowes, simple women, yea, and men of -weake capacity, to credit whatsoever they doe or say, and herein they -doe most of all excercise themselves. - -And to the end, that my speeches may not savour of any untruth against -them; these men which I speake of, have 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 salvation of mens -soules; these fresher witted fellowes, covet after women & wealth, and -employ all their paines by their whispering confessions, and figures -of painted feareful examples, to affright and terrifie unsetled 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 devotion, then any true -compunction of heart, to escape severe penances by them enjoyned: 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 prevailing meanes, to appease heavens anger for some sinnes -committed; but if such as bestow them, did either see or know, to whom -they give them: they would more warily keepe them, or elsee cast them -before Swine, in regard they are altogether so unworthy of them. But -come we now to the case of your ghostly father, crying out in your -eare, that secret mariage was a most greevous sinne: Is not the breach -thereof farre greater. Familiar conversation betweene man and woman, -is a concession meerely naturall: but to rob, kill, or banish anyone, -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 gave 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 whosoever 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 seaven yeares -in exile thorow the world; you cannot denie, but that you were the -onely occasion thereof. In all which three severall actions, farre more -capitally have you offended; then by contracting of mariage in such -clandestine manner. - -But let us see, whether _Thebaldo_ deserved all these severall -castigations, or not. In trueth he did not, your selfe have confessed -(beside that which I know) that hee loved you more dearely then -himselfe, and nothing could be more honoured, magnified and exalted, -then dayly you were by him, above all other women whatsoever. 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, envying 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, understanding truly what they are, and what nobility of -nature God hath endued man withall, farre above 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 divine Justice (which in an equal -ballance bringeth all operations to their full effect) did purpose not -to leave unpunished; but, as you enforced against all reason, to take -away _Thebaldo_ from your selfe: even so your Father _Aldobrandino_, -without any occasion given by _Thebaldo_, is in perill of his life, -and you a partaker of his tribulation. Out of which if you desire to -be delivered, it is very convenient 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 love, grace, and good acceptation; accounting -him in the selfe same degree of favour and private entertainement, as -he was at the first, before your wicked ghostly father so hellishly -incensed you against him. - -When the Pilgrime had finished his speeches, the Gentlewoman, who had -listened to them very attentively (because all the alleaged 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 undoubtedly, that the words which you -have spoken are true, and also I understand by your demonstration, what -manner of people some of those religious persons are, whom heretofore I -have reputed to be Saints, but find them now to be far otherwise. And -to speake truly, I perceive the fault to be great and grievous, wherein -I have offended against _Thebaldo_, and would (if I could) willingly -make amends, even in such manner as you have advised. 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 revelations as have beene shewne to me, I know for a -certainety, that _Thebaldo_ is not dead, but living, in health, and -in good estate; if he had the fruition of your grace and favour. Take -heede what you say Sir (quoth the Gentlewoman) for I saw him lie -slaine before my doore, his body having received 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. -Beleeve me Madam, (replied the Pilgrime) say what you will, I dare -assure you that _Thebaldo_ is living, and if you dare make promise, -concerning what hath beene formerly requested, and keepe it inviolably; -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 never could any thing happen, to yeeld me the like -contentment, as to see my Father free from danger, and _Thebaldo_ -living. - -At this instant _Thebaldo_ thought it to be a very apt and convenient -time to disclose himselfe, and to comfort the Lady, with an assured -signall of hope, for the deliverance 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 ever being revealed to the world. They were then in -a place of sufficient privacy, and alone by themselves, 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 gave him, the last night of their conversing -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 gave it unto _Thebaldo_. - -Hereupon the Pilgrime stood up, and suddenly putting off his poore -linnen Frocke, as also the Hood from his head; using then his -_Florentine_ tongue, he saide. Then tell me Madam, doe you not know -me? When shee had advisedly beheld him, and knew him indeede to be -_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 grave, and came thither purposely to affright her; wherefore he -saide. Be not afraide Madam, I am your _Thebaldo_, in health, alive, -and never as yet died, neither have I received any wounds to kill mee, -as you and my bretheren have 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 avouched 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; _Thebaldo_, -my true and faithfull Husband, nothing in the World can be so welcome -to me. _Thebaldo_ having most kindly kissed and embraced her, said; -Sweete wife, time will not now allow us those ceremonious curtesies, -which (indeede) so long a separation doe justly challenge; but I must -about a more weightie businesse, to have your Father safe and soundly -delivered, 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 will 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 pensive, -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 favour, -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 Heaven -hath sent to doe thee good, in meere pitty and compassion of thine -innocency. And therefore, if thou wilt grant me one small request, -which I am earnestly to crave 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 -ever 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 -never committed the sinfull deede, for which I am condemned to death. -Most true it is, I have other heynous and grievous sinnes, which -(undoubtedly) have throwne this heavy judgement upon me, and therefore -I am the more willing to undergoe it. Neverthelesse, 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 whatsoever thou pleasest of me, for unfainedly (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 have 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, upon their craving pardon for what they have done. Sir, -answered _Aldobrandino_, no man knoweth how sweete revenge 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 -Heaven; I freelie forgive them, and henceforth pardon them for ever; -intending moreover, that if mercy give me life, and cleere me from this -bloody imputation, to love and respect them so long as I shall live. -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 deliverance. - -At his departing from him, he went directly to the _Signoria_, and -prevailed so farre, that he spake privately 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 have committed no -foule offence, should not be punished, but onely the guilty and haynous -transgressors. And because it will be no meane honour to you, to lay -the blame where it worthily deserveth; I am come hither purposely, to -informe you in a case of most weighty importance. It is not unknowne 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_, whereupon your law hath condemned him to dye. I -dare assure you Sir, that a very unjust course hath beene taken in this -case, because _Aldobrandino_ is falsly accused, as you your selfe will -confesse before midnight, when they are delivered into your power, that -were the murderers of the man. - -The honest Knight, who was very sorrowfull for _Aldobrandino_, gladly -gave attention to the Pilgrime, and having conferred on many matters, -appertaining to the fact committed: the two brethren, who were -_Thebaldoes_ Hostes, and their Chamber-mayd, upon good advise given, -were apprehended in their first sleepe, without any resistance made -in their defence. But when the tortures were sent for, to understand -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, upon what occasion they did so foule an -act. They answered, that they were so hatefull against the mans life, -because he would luxuriously have abused one of their wives, when they -both were absent from their owne home. - -When the Pilgrime had heard this their voluntary confession, hee tooke -his leave 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 Love, be of good cheare, -for (upon my word) to morrow you shall have your father home safe, -well, and delivered 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 joyfull, for two such -suddaine and succesfull accidents to enjoy her husband alive and in -health, and also to have her father freed from so great a danger; -kissed and embraced him most affectionately, welcomming him lovingly -into her bed, whereto so long time he had beene a stranger. - -No sooner did bright day appeare, but _Thebaldo_ arose, having -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 convenient opportunity, for attending on the businesse belonging -to _Aldobrandino_. At the usuall houre appointed, the Lords were all -set in the _Signioria_, and had received 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 joy 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, using him with -most honourable and gracious respect; but especially _Hermelina_, who -knew (better then the rest) on whom shee bestowed her liberall favours, -yet concealing all closely to her selfe. - -After two or three dayes were over-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 deliverance, 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 unto him. -_Aldobrandino_ lovingly replied, that he was ready to make good his -word. Whereupon, the Pilgrime provided a goodly Banquet, whereat he -purposed to have present, _Aldobrandino_, his daughter, kindred, and -their wives. But first, himselfe would goe in person, to invite them -in peace to his Banquet, to performe this desired pacification, and -conferred with his brethren, using 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 prevailing with them, that they -willingly condiscended, and thought it no disparagement to them, for -the recoverie of _Aldobrandinoes_ kindnesse againe, to crave 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 -wives and friends, came first to the house of _Aldobrandino_, who -purposely attended for them, and having layd downe their weapons on -the ground: in the presence of all such, as _Aldobrandino_ had invited -as his witnesses, they offered themselves to his mercy, and humbly -required pardon of him, for the matter wherein they had offended him. -_Aldobrandino_, shedding teares, most lovingly embraced them, and (to -bee briefe) pardon whatsoever injuries he had received. After this, -the sisters and wives, all clad in mourning, courteously submitted -themselves, and were graciously welcommed by Madame _Hermelina_, as -also divers 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 elsee deserved 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 perceived, to be the onely disgrace to him and his -feast. Wherefore, as before hee had resolved, when time served 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, or more debarres -it of the honour it might elsee have, but onely the presence of -_Thebaldo_, who having 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, uncasing 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 perceiving, 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 elsee there present, every -one hugging and embracing him, yea, many beside, who were no kin at -all to him, _Hermelina_ onely excepted, which when _Aldobrandino_ saw, -he said unto her. How now _Hermelina_? Why doest thou not welcome home -_Thebaldo_, so kindely as all here elsee have done? - -She making a modest courtesie to her Father, and answering so loude as -every one might heare her, said. There is not any in this assembly, -that more willingly would give him all expression of a joyfull welcom -home, and thankfull gratitude for such especiall favours received, 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 deliverance, hee hath approved -them to be manifest liers, albeit I my selfe did never credit them. Goe -then I command thee, and let me see thee both kisse and embrace him. -She who desired 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 unfeigned love to _Thebaldo_. These bountifull favours -of _Aldobrandino_, were joyfully accepted by _Thebaldoes_ brethren, -as also every one elsee there present in company; so that all former -rancour and hatred, which had caused heavy variances betweene them, was -now converted to mutuall kindnesse, and solemne friendship on every -side. - -When the feasting dayes were finished, the garments of sad mourning -were quite layde aside, and those, becomming so generall a joy, 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 conceived, and having slaine him, layde 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 love -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, untill hee plainely approved 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 -Grave, and put into a darke prison, where they made him beleeve, 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 Novell. - -_Wherein is displayed, the apparant folly of jealousie: And the -subtilty of some religious carnall minded men, to beguile silly and -simple maried men._ - - -When the long discourse of Madame _Æmilia_ 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 -_Lauretta_, giving 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 alive. In which respect, I am now to -let you know, how a living man was buried for dead, and being raised -againe, yet not as living, himselfe, and divers more beside, did -beleeve that he came forth of his grave, and adored him as a Saint, who -was the occasion thereof, and who (as a bad man) deserved justly 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 elsee, -save 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 understanding, yet he fell into great familiarity -with the Abbot; who made use of this friendly conversation to no other -end, but for divers times of recreation; when he delighted to smile at -his silly and sottish behaviour. - -Upon this his private frequentation with the Abbot, at last he -observed, that _Ferando_ had a very beautifull woman to his wife, -with whom he grew so deepely in love, as hee had no other meditations -either by day or night, but how to become acceptable in her favour. -Neverthelesse, he concealed his amorous passions privately to himselfe, -and could plainely perceive, that although Ferando (in all things -elsee) was meerely a simple fellow, and more like an Idiot, then of -any sensible apprehension: yet was he wise enough in loving his wife, -keeping her carefully out of all company, as one (indeede) very -jealous, least any should kisse her, but onely himselfe, which drove -the Abbot into despaire, for ever 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 divers 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 mervailous -civill 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 favour, and therefore he gave 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 elsee, thus she began: Sacred Father, if God -had not given me such an husband as I have, or elsee had bestowed on me -none at all; I might have beene so happy, by the meanes of your holy -doctrine, very easily to have entred into the way, whereof 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 upon his folly -withall; I may well terme my selfe to be a widdow, although I am a -maried wife, because while he liveth, I cannot have any other husband. -And yet (as sottish as you see him) he is (without any occasion given -him) so extreamely jealous of me; as I am not able to live 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 -advise and counsell, because, if thereby I cannot attaine to a more -pleasing kinde of happinesse; neither confession, or any thing elsee, 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 use -of common understanding; but yet subject to a more hellish affliction -then all these, namely jealousie, and therefore you being in this wofull -manner tormented, your tribulations are not only so much the more -credited, but also as amply grieved for, & pittied. In which heavy and -irksome 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 -jealousie; which medicine is very familiar to me, because I know best -how to compound it, alwayes provided, that you can be of so strong a -capacity, as to be secret in what I shall say unto you. - -Good Father (answered the Woman) never make you any doubt thereof, for -I would rather endure death it selfe, then disclose any thing which -you enjoyne 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 have him perfectly cured, of a disease so dangerous and -offensive, of necessity he must be sent into Purgatory. How may that be -done, saide the woman, he being alive? 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 jealousie, we have -certaine devoute and zealous prayers, whereby to bring him backe againe -to life, in as able manner as ever 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 heavens will therewith be highly offended: -but _Ferando_ being returned to life againe, you must repossesse him -as your Husband, but never to be jealous any more. Alas Sir (quoth the -woman) so that he may be cured of his wicked jealousie, and I no longer -live 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 have done it? Father, saide shee, whatsoever 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, even 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 love, and the kinde embracing of your person; -because so violent are mine affections, as I pine and consume away -daily, till I enjoy 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 -have you made to me? I beleeved very faithfully, that you were no -lesse then a Saint, and is it convenient, that when silly women come -to aske counsell of such sanctified men, they should returne them such -unfitting answeres? Be not amazed good woman, saide the Abbot, at the -motion which I have made unto you, because holinesse is not thereby -impaired a jot in me; for it is the inhabitant of the soule, the other -is an imperfection attending on the body: but be it whatsoever, your -beauty hath so powerfully prevailed on me, that entire love hath -compelled me to let you know it. And more may you boast of your beauty, -then any that ever I beheld before, considering, it is so pleasing to -a sanctified man, that it can draw him from divine contemplations, to -regard a matter of so humble an equalitie. - -Let me tell you moreover, woorthy Woman, that you see me reverenced -here as Lord Abbot, yet am I but as other men are, and in regard I am -neither aged, nor misshapen, me thinkes the motion I have made, should -be the lesse offensive 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 privy to our close -meetings, for I carrie the same holy opinion among all men, as you -your selfe conceived of me, and none dare be so saucie, as to call -in question whatsoever 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 enjoy 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 Jewelse, which shall be all yours, if you please in favour -to be mine; wherein I will not be gaine-saide, except your selfe doe -denie me. - -The Woman having 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 over-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 never ceased, but allured her still to beleeve -whatsoever 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, untill _Ferando_ were first sent into Purgatory. And till then -(quoth the Abbot) I will not urge any more, because I purpose his -speedy sending thither: but yet, so farre lend me your assistance, that -either to morrow, or elsee the next day, he may come hither once more -to converse with me. So putting a faire gold Ring on her finger, they -parted till their next meeting. - -Not a little joyfull was the Woman of so rich a gift, hoping to enjoy -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 never was without -a certaine kinde of drugge, which being beaten into powder, would worke -so powerfully upon the braine, and all the other vitall sences, as to -entrance them with a deadly sleepe, and deprive them of all motion, -either in the pulses, or any other part elsee, even as if the body -were dead indeede; in which operation it would so hold and continue, -according to the quantity given 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 upon his Novices, -sending them into Purgatory when he pleased, and by such punishments as -he inflicted on them there, made them (like credulous asses) beleeve -whatsoever himselfe listed. - -So much of this powder had the Abbot provided, as should suffice for -three dayes entrauncing, and having compounded it with a very pleasant -Wine, calling _Ferando_ into his Chamber, there gave it him to drinke, -and afterward walked with him about the Cloyster, in very friendly -conference together, the silly sot never dreaming on the treachery -intended against him. Many Monkes beside were recreating themselves -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 revive him againe; alleaging -that some fume or vapour in the stomacke, had thus over-awed his -understanding faculties, and quite deprived 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 used such -perswasions to the Monkes, that they all beleeved 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 under a -Tombe, such as there are used in stead of Graves; 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 never 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 unto her. - -From the City of _Bologna_, that very instant day, a well staide and -governed Monke there arrived, 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 darke dungeon or prison, which he termed by the -name of Purgatory, and where hee used to discipline his Monkes, when -they had committed any notorious offence, deserving to be punished -in Purgatory. There they tooke off his usuall wearing garments, and -cloathed him in the habite of a Monke, even as if he had beene one of -the house; and laying him on a bundle of straw, so left him untill -his sences should be restored againe. On the day following, late in -the evening, 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 pensive, which by his wonted -perswasions, indifferently he appeased; challenging the benefit of her -promise. Shee being thus alone, not hindered by her Husbands jealousie, -and espying another goodly gold Ring on his finger, how frailety -and folly over-ruled her, I know not, shee was a weake woman, he a -divelish deluding man; and the strongest holdes by over-long battery -and besieging, must needes yeeld at the last, as I feare shee did: for -very often afterward, the Abbot used in this manner to visit her, and -the simple ignorant Countrey people, carrying no such ill opinion of -the holy Abbot, and having 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 just pennance for his jealousie. - -When _Ferandoes_ sences were recovered 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 elsee, 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 have Masses -devoutly 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_ having 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 loving Wife, long mayest thou live for -this extraordinary kindnesse. I promise thee (sweete heart) while I -was alive, I cannot remember, that ever 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, using her so villainously -in thy life time? Then did he whip him more fiercely then before, -when _Ferando_ holding up his hands, as craving for mercy, demanded -wherefore he was so severely punished? I am so commanded (quoth -the Monke) by supreme power, and twice every day must thou be thus -disciplinde. Upon what occasion? replyed _Ferando_. Because (quoth the -Monke) thou wast most notoriously jealous 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 over-much jealous of -her indeede: but had I knowne, that jealousie was such a hatefull sinne -against Heaven, I never would have offended therein. - -Now (quoth the Monke) thou canst confesse thine owne wilfull follie, -but this should have beene thought on before, and whilest thou wast -living in the World. But if the Fates vouchsafe to favour 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 -jealousie. I pray you Sir tell me, replyed _Ferando_, after men are -dead, and put into Purgatory, is there any hope of their ever 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 ever lived, and never more be jealous, never -wrong so good a Wife, nor ever use one unkind word against her. In the -meane while, and till their anger may be qualified; when next my Wife -doth send me foode, I pray you worke so much, that some Candles may be -sent me also, because I live here in uncomfortable darknesse; and what -should I doe with foode, if I have no light. Shee sends Lights enow, -answered the Monke, but they are burnt out on the Altar in Masse-time, -and thou canst have 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 served -a very jealous Master; and because I soothed him in his jealousie, -I had this pennance imposed on me, to serve thee here in Purgatory -with meate and drinke, and (twice every day) to discipline thy body, -untill the Fates have 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 us. But how farre, saide -_Ferando_, is Purgatory distant from our native Countries? About some -fifty thousand leagues, answered the Monke; but yet passable in a -moment, whensoever 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 conversion; and becomming a new man, hating to be jealous any -more hereafter. - -In these and such like speeches, as thus they beguiled the time, so did -they observe 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 proved -to be conceived with childe, and the time was drawing on for her -deliverance. 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 inconveniences, it -was now thought high time, that _Ferando_ should be sent to the world -againe, and set free from the paines of Purgatory, as having payed for -his jealousie 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 -live in the world againe. Thou didst leave thy wife newly conceived -with childe, and this very morning she is delivered of a goodly Sonne, -whom thou shalt cause to be named _Bennet_: because, by the incessant -prayers of the holy Abbot, thine owne loving wife, and for sweet Saint -_Bennets_ sake, this grace and favour is afforded thee. _Ferando_ -hearing this, was exceeding joyfull, and returned this answere: -For ever honoured be the Fates, the holy Lord Abbot, blessed Saint -_Bennet_, and my most dearely beloved wife, whom I will faithfully love -for ever, and never more offend her by any jealousie in me. - -When the next foode was sent to _Ferando_, so much of the powder -was mingled with the wine, as would serve 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_, conveying and laying him in the same vault under -the Tombe, where at the first they gave him buriall. The next morning -following, about the breake of day, _Ferando_ recovered his sences, and -thorow divers chinkes and crannies of the Tombe, descried day-light, -which hee had not seene in tenne moneths space before. Perceiving then -plainely, that he was alive, he cried out aloude, saying: Open, open, -and let mee forth of Purgatory, for I have beene heere long enough in -conscience. Thrusting up his head against the cover 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 upon his feete: at which instant -time, the Monks having 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 -Novices (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 have pleased to shew in our -Convent, 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 heaven, and endured such strict discipline -twice everie day: stood in a gastly amazement by the Tombes side, as -not daring to adventure any further, or knowing perfectly, whether -he was (as yet) truly alive, 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 feete, saying. -Holy Father, by your zealous prayers (as hath bin miraculously -revealed to me) and the prayers of blessed S. _Bennet_; as also of my -honest, deare, and loving Wife, I have bin delivered from the paines -of Purgatory, and brought againe to live in this world; for which -unspeakable grace and favour, most humbly I thank the well-pleased -Fates, S. _Bennet_, your Father-hood, and my kinde Wife, and will -remember all your loves to me for ever. 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 have bin so gracious to thee; Go -(I say) home to thine owne house, and comfort thy kind wife, who ever -since thy departure out of this life, hath lived in continuall mourning, -love, cherish, and make much of her, never afflicting her henceforth -with causlesse jealousie. No I warrant you good Father, replyed -_Ferando_; I have 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 loving wife, or any other. - -The Abbot causing _Miserere_ to be devoutly 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 severall names, telling -them, that hee was newly risen out of his grave, and was a man as he -had bin before. Then they began to touch and feele him, growing into -more certaine assurance of him, perceiving him to be a living 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 -(neverthelesse) they beleeved. - -Then he told them what the miraculous voice had said unto 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 jealousie. - - - - -Juliet of Narbona, _cured the King of France of a daungerous Fistula, -in recompence whereof, she requested to enjoy as her husband in -marriage,_ Bertrand _the Count of_ Roussillion. _Hee having married her -against his will, as utterly despising her, went to Florence, where he -made love to a young Gentlewoman._ Juliet, _by a queint and cunning -policy, compassed the meanes (insted of his chosen new friend) to lye -with her owne husband, by whom shee conceived, and had two Sonnes; -which being afterward made knowne unto Count_ Bertrand, _he accepted -her into his favour again, and loved her as his loyall and honourable -wife._ - -The Ninth Novell. - -_Commending the good judgement and understanding in Ladies or -Gentlewomen, that are of a quicke and apprehensive spirit._ - - -Now there remained no more (to preserve the priviledge granted to -_Dioneus_ uninfringed) but the Queene onely, to declare her Novell. -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 liking, -having heard the rare and wittie discourse of Madame _Lauretta_? -Beleeve me, it was verie advantageable to us all, that she was not this -dayes first beginner, because few or none would have had any courage to -follow after her, & therefore the rest yet remaining, are the more to -be feared and suspected. Neverthelesse, to avoid the breach of order, -and to claime no priviledge by my place, of not performing what I ought -to do: prove as it may, a Tale you must have, and thus I proceed. - -There lived 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 _Juliet_; who, even in these tender -yeares, fixed her affection upon 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 under his royall custodie and -protection, to the no little discomfort of yong _Juliet_, who became -greevously 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 journey 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 behaviour, as she could not -compasse any meanes of escaping. Her yeeres made her now almost fit for -marriage, which so much more encreased her love 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, whereby her affections -were the more violently enflamed, as fearing least some other should be -preferred before her, & so her hopes be utterly 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 convenient 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 drove it to more vehement -extreamitie, compelling the King, as dispairing utterly of all helpe, -to give over any further counsell or advice. Heereof faire _Juliet_ was -wondrously joyful, as hoping that this accident would prove the meanes, -not only of hir journey 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 up 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 having reduced hir compound into a powder, away she rode -forthwith to Paris. - -Being there arrived, all other serious matters set aside, first shee -must needs have 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 Majesty, to vouchsafe her the -sight of his Fistula. When the King saw her, her modest lookes did -plainly deliver, 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 heaven) 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 -unthankefull for thy forward willingnesse: but I am fully determined, -to use no more counsell, or to make any further triall of Physicke or -Chirurgery. Whereto faire _Juliet_ 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 undertake the ministering -thereof, as depending on mine owne knowledge; but by the gracious -assistance of heaven, & some rules of skilfull observation, which I -learned of reverend _Gerard_ of _Narbona_, who was my worthy Father, -and a Physitian of no meane fame, all the while he lived. - -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 heaven, 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 resolved 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? Whatsoever 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 within eight daies, let a good fire be made, and -therein consume my bodie unto ashes. But if I accomplish the cure, and -set your Highnesse free from all further greevance, what recompence -then shall 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 unmarried, if thou keepe promise, and I finde -my selfe to be fully cured: I will match thee with some such Gentleman -in marriage, as shal be of honourable and worthy reputation, with a -sufficient dowry beside. My gracious Soveraigne saide she, willing am -I, and most heartily thankful withall, that your Highnesse shal bestow -me in marriage: but I desire then, to have such a husband, as I shal -desire or demand by your gracious favour, without presuming to crave -any of your Sonnes, Kindred, or Alliance, or appertaining unto your -Royall blood. Whereto the King gladly granted. Young _Juliet_ began to -minister her Physicke, and within fewer dayes then her limited time, -the King was sound and perfectly cured; which when he perceyved, hee -sayd unto her. Trust me vertuous Mayde, most woorthily hast thou wonne -a Husband, name him, and thou shalt have him. Royall King (quoth she) -then have I won the Count _Bertrand_ of _Roussillion_, whom I have -most entirely loved 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 unknowne to us, 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 enjoy a Wife, -which we intend to bestow upon 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 Heaven) -hath beene the meanes to save my life. Well did the Count know her, as -having 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 give me a Quacksalver 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 -have us breake our faith; which for the recovery of our health, wee -have given to this vertuous virgin, and shee will have 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 -Subject, and any where elsee 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 ever give consent thereto. - -Sir, saide the King, it is our will that it shall be so, vertuous she -is, faire and wise; she loveth 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) received his wife -at the Kings hand; she loving him deerely as her owne life. When all -was done, the Count requested of the King, that what elsee remained -for further solemnization of the marriage, it might be performed in -his owne Countrey, reserving to himselfe what elsee he intended. Being -mounted on horseback, and humbly taking their leave 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 service. - -The poore forsaken new married Countesse, could scarsely be pleased -with such dishonourable unkindnes, yet governing 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 received her very lovingly. Now, by reason of the Counts so long -absence, all things were there farre out of order; mutinies, quarrelse, -and civill dissentions, having procured many dissolute irruptions, -to the expence of much blood in many places. But shee, like a jolly -stirring Lady, very wise and provident in such disturbances, reduced -all occasions to such civility againe, that the people admired her rare -behaviour, and condemned the Count for his unkindnesse 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 understand, that if in displeasure -to her, hee was thus become a stranger to his owne countrey: upon -the return of his answer, to give 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 have no determination to dwel -with her, or neere where she is. Tell her from me, when she shall have -this Ring, which you behold heere on my finger, and a sonne in her -armes begotten by me; then will I come live with her, and be her love. -The Ring he made most precious and deere account of, and never 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 -favour elsee to be derived from him; sorrowfully returned backe to -their Ladie, and acquainted her with this unkinde answer, as also his -unalterable determination, which wel you may conceive, must needs be -verie unwelcome to her. - -After she had an indifferent while considered with her selfe, her -resolution became so undauntable; that she would adventure to practise -such meanes, whereby to compasse those two apparant impossibilities, -and so to enjoy the love of her husband. Having absolutely concluded -what was to be done, she assembled all the cheefest men of the country, -revealing unto them (in mournfull manner) what an attempt she had made -already, in hope of recovering her husbands favour, and what a rude -answer was thereon returned. In the end, she told them, that it did -not sute with her unworthinesse, to make the Count live as an exile -from his owne inheritance, upon no other inducement, but only in regard -of her: wherefore, she had determined betweene heaven and her soule, -to spend the remainder of her dayes in Pilgrimages and prayers, for -preservation of the Counts soule and her owne; earnestly desiring them, -to undertake the charge and government of the Countrey, and signifying -unto the Count, how she had forsaken his house, and purposed to wander -so far thence, that never would she visite _Roussillion_ any more. In -the deliverie of these words, the Lords and gentlemen wept and sighed -extraordinarily, using many earnest imprecations to alter this resolve -in her, but all was in vaine. - -Having 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 Jewelse, -to avoide all wants which might befall her in travaile; not acquainting -any one whether she went. In no place stayed she, untill she was -arrived 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 he was a stranger there, yet a Nobleman, -called Count _Bertrand_ of _Roussillion_, a verie courteous Knight, -beloved and much respected in the City. Moreover, that he was farre in -love with a neighbour of hers, a yong Gentlewoman, but verie poore and -meane in substance, yet of honest life, vertuous, and never taxed with -any evill report: onely her povertie was the maine imbarment of her -marriage, dwelling in house with her mother, who was a wise, honest, -and worthy Lady. - -The Countesse having wel observed her words, and considered thereon -from point to point; debated soberly with her owne thoughts, in such a -doubtfull case what was best to be done. When she had understood which -was the house, the ancient Ladies name, and likewise her daughters, to -whom her husband was now so affectionately devoted; she made choise -of a fit and convenient 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 giving 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 beleeve 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 -have now need (good Madame) both of your trust and fidelity, whereon -if I should rely, and you faile me, it will be your owne undooing as -well as mine. Speake then boldly, replied the olde Ladie, and remaine -constantly assured, that you shall no way be deceived by me. Heereupon, -the Countesse declared the whole course of her love, from the verie -originall to the instant, revealing also what she was, and the occasion -of her comming thither, relating every thing so perfectly, that the -Ladie verily beleeved her, by some reports which she had formerly -heard, and which mooved her the more to compassion. Now, when all -circumstances were at full discovered, 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 have, -all hope is quite frustrate for ever, 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 have heard, and you can therein best resolve mee. -Since my comming to this City, it hath credibly bene told me, that the -Count my husband, is deeply in love with your daughter. If the Count -(quoth the Ladie) love my daughter, and have a wife of his owne, he -must thinke, and so shall surely finde it, that his greatnesse is no -priviledge for him, whereby to worke dishonour upon her poverty. 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 whatsoever 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 poverty as at high a rate, as he can do the pride -of his honour. - -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 have heard) onely by lack of a -competent dowry. Wherefore Madame, in recompence of the favour 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 honour. Poverty made the -poore Lady, very well to like of such a bountifull offer, and having -a noble heart she said: Great Countesse say, wherein am I able to do -you any service, as can deserve such a gracious offer? If the action -bee honest, without blame or scandall to my poore, yet undejected -reputation, gladly I will do it; and it being accomplished, let the -requitall rest in your owne noble nature. - -Observe me then Madam, replyed the Countesse. It is most convenient for -my purpose, that by some trusty and faithfull messenger, you should -advertise the Count my husband, that your daughter is, and shall be at -his command: but because she may remain absolutely assured, that his -love is constant to her, and above all other: shee must entreate him, -to send her (as a testimony thereof) the Ring which he weareth upon -his little finger, albeit she hath heard, that he loveth it dearly. -If he send the Ring, you shal give 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 favour -mee, that (unknowne to him) I may conceive with childe. Uppon which -good successe, when time shall serve, having the Ring on my finger, -and a child in my armes begotten by him, his love and liking may bee -recovered, and (by your meanes) I continue with my Husband, as everie -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: -Neverthelesse, considering, what an honest office it was in her, to bee -the meanes, whereby so worthy a Countesse should recover an unkinde -husband, led altogether by lust, and not a jot of cordiall love; she -knew the intent to be honest, the Countesse vertuous, and her promise -religious, and therefore undertooke to effect it. Within few dayes -after, verie ingeniously, and according to the instructed order, -the Ring was obtained, albeit much against the Counts will; and the -Countesse, in sted of the Ladies vertuous daughter, was embraced by him -in bed: the houre proving so auspicious, and _Juno_ being Lady of the -ascendent, conjoyned with the witty _Mercury_, she conceived of two -goodly Sonnes, and her deliverance agreed correspondently with the just -time. - -Thus the old Lady, not at this time only, but at many other meetings -beside; gave the Countesse free possession of her husbands pleasures, -yet alwayes in such darke and concealed secrecie, as it was never -suspected, nor knowne by any but themselves, the Count lying with his -owne wife, and disappointed of her whom he more deerely loved. Alwayes -at his uprising in the mornings (which usually was before the breake -of day, for preventing the least scruple of suspition) many familiar -conferences passed betweene them, with the gifts of divers faire and -costly Jewelse; all which the Countesse carefully kept, and perceiving -assuredly, that shee was conceived 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 give thankes to heaven and you, -because my desires are amply accomplished, and both time and your -deserts doe justly 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 give you by way of -reward, because that would seeme to bee base and mercenary: but onely -whatsoever you shall receive of me, is in honourable recompence of -faire & vertuous deservings, such as any honest and well-minded Lady in -the like distresse, may with good credit allow, and yet no prejudice to -her reputation. - -Although poverty might well have 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 uttered too; yet the Countesse gave hir -five hundred pounds, beside so many rich and costly Jewelse, 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 avoide the Counts repairing -to her house any more, departed thence sodainly with her daughter, to -divers friends of hers that dwelt in the Country, whereat the Count -was much discontented; albeit afterward, he did never 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 having heard of his wives absence, went to _Roussillion_ so much the -more willingly. And the Countesse knowing her husbands departure from -_Florence_, as also his safe arrivall at his owne dwelling, remained -still in _Florence_, untill the time of her deliverance, which was -of two goodly Sonnes, lively resembling the lookes of their Father, -and all the perfect lineaments of his body. Perswade your selves, she -was not a little carefull of their nursing; and when she saw the time -answerable to her determination, she tooke her journey (unknowne to -any) and arrived with them at _Montpellier_, where shee rested her -selfe for divers dayes, after so long and wearisome a journey. - -Upon the day of all Saints, the Count kept a solemne Festivall, for the -assembly of his Lords, Knights, Ladies, and Gentlewomen: uppon which -Joviall day of generall rejoycing, the Countesse attired in her wonted -Pilgrimes weed, repaired thither, entering into the great Hall, where -the Tables were readily covered for dinner. Preassing thorough the -throng of people, with her two children in her armes, she presumed unto -the place where the Count sate, & falling on her knees before him, the -teares trickling abundantly downe her cheekes, thus she spake. Worthy -Lord, I am thy poor, despised, and unfortunate wife; who, that thou -mightst returne home, and not bee an exile from thine owne abiding, -have 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 unto -thee, and which (by thy command) I was enjoyned 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 honour respect their -promises, that after so long and tedious travell, 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 judgement. -Upon his urging by what possible meanes this could be broght to -passe: the Countesse in presence of the whole assembly, and unto her -eternall commendation, related the whole history, even in such manner -as you have formerly heard it. Moreover, she reported the private -speeches in bed, uttered betweene himselfe and her, being witnessed -more apparantly, by the costly Jewelse 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 every point which she had reported. - -Commending her admirable constancy, excellency of wit, & sprightly -courage, in making such a bold adventure; 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 have no deniall, but by forgetting his -former harsh and uncivill carriage towardes her, to accept her for -ever as his lawfull wife: folding her in his armes, and sweetly -kissing her divers times together, he bad her welcome to him, as his -vertuous, loyall, & most loving wife, and so (for ever 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 uncase her of those pilgrimes weeds, and cloath -her in her owne more sumptuous garments, even 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 give the King thanks for her, and now was Count _Bertrand_ truly -married to the faire _Juliet_ of _Narbona_. - - - - -_The wonderfull and chaste resolved continency of faire Serictha, -daughter to Siwalde King of Denmark, who being sought and sued unto by -many worthy persons, that did affect her dearly, would not looke any -man in the face, untill such time as she was married._ - -The tenth Novell. - -_A very singular and worthy president, for all yong Ladies and -Gentlewomen: not rashly to bestow themselves in mariage, without the -knowledge and consent of their Parents and Friends._ - - -_Dioneus_ having diligently listened to the Queens singular discourse, -so soone as she had concluded, and none now remaining but himselfe, to -give a full period unto 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 now expect from me, some such -queint Tale, as shall be suteable to my merry disposition; rather -savouring of wantonnesse, then any discreet and sober wisedom; and such -a purpose indeed, I once had entertained. But having well observed -all your severall relations, grounded on grave & worthy examples, -especially the last, so notably delivered by the Queene: I cannot but -commend faire _Juliet_ of _Narbona_, in perfourming two such strange -impossibilities, and conquering the unkindnesse of so cruel a husband. -If my Tale come short of the precedent excellency, or give 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 observed 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 whatsoever elsee, to attract -the eyes of everie one to beholde her: was also so chaste, modest, -and bashfull, as it was meerely impossible, to prevaile 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 conceived, of the vertuous qualities of a Ladie. -Notwithstanding, never could any man make his vaunt, that she had -given him so much as a looke, or ever any one attained to the favour, -to whisper a word in her eare. Because both the custome and will of -Parents then (very respectively kept in those Northerne parts of the -world) of hearing such speak, as desired their daughters in marriage; -grew from offering them some worthy services; 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 will and disposition of the King her -Lord and Father; was so contrary, to give any living man an answer, -that her eye never 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 have any other disposition, but such -as should bee pleasing to their parents, either to graunt, or denie, -according as they were guided by their grave judgement. In like manner, -so well had shee brideled her sensuall appetites, with the curbe of -Reason, Wisedome, and Providence; setting such a severe and constant -restraint, on the twinkling or motions of her eyes, in absolute -obedience to her Father; as never 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 favour, from her whom they so -dutiously pursued, to steale but a silly glimpse or glance, and would -have thought it a kind of honourable theft. But this immovable 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 endeavour, ayming onely at obtaining her in mariage: yet did she -not lend any look of her eye, yeelding the least signall of the hearts -motion, in affecting any thing whatsoever, but what it pleased her -Father she should do. - -_Serictha_ living in this strange and unusuall manner, it mooved manie -Princes and great Lords, to come and court her, contending both by -signes and words, to change her from this severe constancie, and make -knowne (if possible it might be) whether a woman would or could be so -resolute, as to use no respect at all towards them, coming from so -manie strange countries, to honour 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 themselves, 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 severity would be shaken, if once it came to passe, -that his daughter should feele the piercing apprehensions of love, & -whereof (as yet) she never had any experience; he determined to use -some remedy for this great concourse of lovers, and strange kinde of -carriage in the Princesse his daughter. For, hee apparantly perceived, -that such excelling beauty as was in _Serictha_, with those good and -commendable customes, and other ornaments of his daughters mind, could -never attaine to such an height of perfection; but yet there would be -found some men, so wittily accute and ingenious, as to convert and -humour 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 service, some one or other -would prove 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 himselfe -in his Chamber, and standing cleere from all other attention, hee used -to her this, or the like Language. - -I know not faire daughter, what reason may move 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 -love and loyall service, under this onely pretence (as I perceive) -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 justly vouchsafe to see; I commend your -maidenly continencie, which yet neverthelesse, I would not have to bee -so severe; as (at length) your youth falling into mislike thereof, it -maybe the occasion of some great misfortune, either to you, or me, -or elsee to us both together: considering what rapes are ordinarily -committed in these quarters, and of Ladies equall every way to your -selfe; which happening, would presently be the cause of my death. - -If it be in regard of some vow which you have consecrated to virginity, -and to some one of our Gods: I seeke not therein to hinder your -disseignes, neither will bereave the celestiall powers, of whatsoever -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 prove a Campe destinied unto -the conclusion of such quarrelse, or you be the occasion of ruining so -many, whose service would beseeme a much more needfull place, then to -dye heere by fond and foolish opinion of enjoying a vaine pleasure, -yet remaining in the power of another bodie to grant. If therefore I -shall perceive, that these behaviours in you do proceede from pride, or -contempt of them, who endeavour to do you both honour and service, 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 -severity: promising you, upon the word and faith of a King, nay more, -of a loving and kinde Father, that if I finde the cause to bee just -and reasonable, I will desist so farre from hindering your intent, -as you shal rather perceive my fatherly furtherance, and rest truly -resolved of my help and favour. Wherefore faire daughter, neither blush -or dismay, or feare to let me understand your will; for evidently I -see, that meere virgin shame hath made a rapture of your soule, beeing -nothing elsee but those true splendours of vertue derived from your -Auncestors, and shining in you most gloriously, gracing you with a much -richer embellishing, then 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 uppon 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 reverence, in signe of dutifull accepting such favour, -thus she answered. Royall Lord and Father, seeing that in your Princely -Court, I have gathered whatsoever may be termed vertuous in me, & you -being the principall instructer of my life, from whom I have learned -those lessons, how maides (of my age) ought to governe and maintaine -themselves: you shall apparently perceive, that neither gazing lookes, -which I ought not to yeelde without your consent, nor pride or -arrogancie, never taught 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 behaviour, 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 have any other private -reserved 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) untill 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 untainted 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 have sealed up my soule with an -absolute determination, rather to make choise of death, then any way to -alter this my warrantable severity. - -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 lives -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 (neverthelesse) I hold as a -matter impossible, if their discord should be grounded on the sole -apprehension of their soules: and the onely prevention thereof, 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 unto -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 endeavouring to shake the simplicity of a bashfull maide: -Let them cleare the Kings high-wayes of Theeves, who make the passages -difficult: or let them expell Pirates from off the Seas, which make our -_Danish_ coasts every way inaccessible. These are such Noble meanes -to merit, as may throw deserved recompence uppon 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 -give her: for otherwise, you know her absolute resolve, never to looke -any living 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 gave him, returned her this answer. Understand me wel, faire -daughter; neither am I minded to breake your determination wholly, nor -yet to governe my selfe according to your fancie. I stand indifferently -contented, that untill I have 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 therein to declare -your obedience. What elsee remaineth beside, for so silly a thing as a -Woman is, and for the private pleasing of so many great Princes and -Lords, I will not endanger any of their lives; because their parents -and friends (being sensible of such losses) may seeke revenge, perhaps -to their owne ruine, and some following scourge to my indiscretion. -For I consider (daughter) that I have neighbours who scarsely love me, -and of whom (in time) I may right my selfe, having received (by their -meanes) great wrongs & injuries. Also I make no doubt, but to manage -your love-sute with discretion, and set such a pleasing proceeding -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 favourably upon some one man, to reach the height of both our -wished desires. - -_Siwalde_ was thus determinately resolved, to let his daughter live at -her owne discretion, without any alteration of her continued severitie, -perceiving day by day, that many came still to request her in mariage; -& he could not give 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 favour 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 gave over their amorous enterprize: -whereof _Serictha_ was wondrouslie joyfull, seeing her selfe eased -of such tedious importunitie, dulling her eares with their proffered -services, and foppish allegations of fantasticke servitude: such as -ydle-headed Lovers do use to protest before their Mistresses, wherein -they may beleeve 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 having stolne the Sister -unto King _Hunguinus_, and Sister to _Siwalde_, & affiancing himselfe -to her, was slaine by King _Haldune_, and by thus killing him, -enjoyed 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 (above all the rest) on his excellent -and eloquent speaking; bestowed his best endeavour to obtaine -_Serictha_, notwithstanding the contemptible carriage of the rest -towards him; whereupon prevailing 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 living at this day in all the Northerne parts, should make so -small account of your selfe, as to denie that, which with honour you may -yeeld to them, as seeke to doe you most humble service; and forgetting -the rank you hold, doe refuse to deigne them recompence in any manner -whatsoever, seeking onely to enjoy you in honourable marriage? Perhaps -you are of opinion, that the gods should become slaves to your -beauty, in which respect, men are utterly unworthy to crave 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 us men; I thinke you covet 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 have wished, -and doe desire you: I know also, that as many have requested you of -the King your Father, but the choyce remaineth in your power, and you -being ordained the Judge, to distinguish the merit of all your Sutors; -me thinkes you doe wrong to the office of a Judge; in not regarding -the parties which are in suite, to sentence the desert of the best and -bravest, 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 -have a Sonne in Law, to revenge 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 favour, as to make me the man, whom your heart -hath chosen to be your Husband; I sweare unto you by the honour of -a Souldier, that I will undergoe such service, as the King shall be -revenged, you royally satisfied, and my selfe advanced 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 love may be -engraven therein; see there the loyall pursuite of your _Ocharus_, who, -to save his life, cannot so much as winne one looke from his divine -Mistresse. - -This nicenesse is almost meerely barbarous, that I, wishing to -adventure my life prodigally in your service, 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 servant _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 upon me; if my face be so unworthy, that one beame of your -bright Sunnes may not shine upon 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 envious of mine ease, let one of your -women be shee, to pronounce the sentence of life or 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 servants be against your more mercifull -wishes; deale so that I may perceive it, and expresse what compassion -you have of your _Ocharus_, who coveteth nothing more, then your daily -hearts ease and contentment, with a priviledge of honour above other -Ladies. All this discourse was heard by _Serictha_, but so little was -shee moved therewith, as shee was farre enough off from returning him -any answer, neither did any of the Gentlewomen attending on her, ever -heare her use the very least word to any of her amorous sollicitors, -nor did shee know any one of them, but by speech onely, which drove -them all into an utter despaire, perceiving no possible meanes whereby -to conquer her. - -The Histories of the Northerne Countries doe declare, that in those -times, the rapes of women were not much respected; and such as pursued -any Lady or Gentlewoman with love, were verily perswaded, that they -never made sufficient proofe of their amourous passions, if they -undertooke not all cunning stratagems, with adventure of their lives -to all perils whatsoever, for the rape or stealth of them, whom they -purposed to enjoy in marriage. As we reade in the _Gothes_ History -of _Gramo_, Sonne to the King of _Denmarke_, who being impatiently -amourous of the daughter to the King of the _Gothes_, and winning the -love 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 -injury, _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 -used all honourable services to her, as the Daughter of so great a -Prince worthily deserved: 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; prevailed so farre, that he corrupted one of her -Governesses, for secretly training her to such a place, where the -ravisher should lie in ambush to carry her away, so to enjoy 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 love -a Lady for her gentillity and vertue; knoweth not how to measure what -love is, neither seeth or conceiveth, how farre the permission of his -owne endeavour extendeth. Moreover, you may observe, that never any age -was so grosse, or men so simple, but even almost from the beginning, -avarice 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 light of -all men, and never distrusted them which kept about her; shee who never -knew (except some naturall sparke gave light to her understanding) -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 have repented very dearely, if -Heaven had not succoured her innocency, by the helpe of him, who wished -her as well as the ravisher, though their desires were quite contrary; -the one to enjoy her by violence, but the other affecting rather to -die, then doe the least act which might displease her. No sooner was -_Serictha_ arrived at the destined place, where her false Governesse -was to deliver 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 ravisher durst not convey her to his owne abiding, to enjoy -the benefit of his purchase; but haled her into a small thicket of -trees, where, although shee knew the evident perill, whereinto her -severe continency had now throwne her: yet notwithstanding, shee would -not lift up her eyes, to see what he was that had thus stolne her, -so firmely shee dwelt upon grounded deliberation, and such was the -vigor of her chaste resolve. And albeit shee knew a wickednesse (worse -then death) preparing for her, who had no other glory then in her -vertue, and desire to live 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 prejudice 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 advantage whatsoever, crying out -shrilly, and strugling against him strongly: her outcryes were heard -by one, who little imagined that shee was so neere, whom he loved -more dearely then his owne life, namely, _Ocharus_; who was walking -accidentally alone in this wood, devising 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 ravished; but he -cryed out to the thiefe, saying; Hand off villaine, let not such a -slave as thou, prophane with an unreverend touch the sacred honour of -so chaste a Princesse, who deserveth to be more royally respected, then -thus rudely hurried: Hand off I say, or elsee I sweare by her divine -perfections, whom I esteeme above all creatures in this World, to make -thee die more miserably, then ever any man as yet did. - -Whosoever had seene a Lyon or an Ounce rouse himselfe, chafing when -any one adventureth to rob him of his prey; and then with fierce eyes, -mounted creasts, writhed tayles, and sharpened pawes, make against him -that durst to molest him. In the like manner did the ravisher 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 deserved wages, and -just repayment for thy proud presuming. It glads my heart not a little, -to meete thee here, where thou shalt soone perceive what good will I -beare thee, and whether thou be worthy or no to enjoy 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 favour; when shee shall see what a powerfull arme I -have, 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 Mastive Dogge, or pricked by -the point of a weapon, he ran upon his enemy, and was so roughly -welcommed by him, as it could not easilly be judged which of them had -the better advantage. But in the end Fortune favoured most the honest -man, and _Ocharus_ having overthrowne the robber, hee smote the head -of him quite from his shoulders, which he presented to her, whom he -had delivered out of so great a peril, and thus he spake. You may -now behold Madam, whether _Ocharus_ be a true lover of _Sericthaes_ -vertues, or no, and your knowledge fully resolved, at what end his -affection aimeth; as also, how farre his honest desert extendeth, -for you both to love him, and to recompence the loyall respect he -hath used towards you. Never looke on the villaines face, who strove -to shame the King your Fathers Court, by violation of theevery, the -chastest 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 given you contentment, by delivering you from this -Traytor. - -Doth it not appeare unto you Madam, that I have as yet done enough, -whereby to be thought a worthy Husband, for the royall Daughter -of _Denmarke_? Have I not satisfied the Kings owne Ordinance, by -delivering his Daughter, as already I have 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 perceive, that the wages of -my devoire, is ranked amongest those precedent services, which I have -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 unfeigned lover of -your modesty, and devoutly honoureth your vertuous behaviour. And yet -Madame, shall I have 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 have 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 services: 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 itselfe 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 resolved, that no violence -had bene done unto her. - -The Princesse, sharpely rebuking her women, for leaving her so basely -as they had done, gave charge to one of them (because she would not -seeme altogether negligent & discourteous) that she being gone thence, -she should not faile to thanke _Ocharus_, for the honest and faithfull -service he had done unto her, which she would continually remember, -and recompence as it lay in her power. Neverthelesse, shee advised him -withall, not to hope of any more advantage 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 reserved her for another, all his services would availe to no -purpose, but rather to make her the more rigorous towards him. - -This gracious answer, thus given him by her Gentlewoman, although it -gave some small contentment to the poore languishing lover: yet hee -saw no assured signe whereon to settle his resolve, but his hopes -vanished away in smoake, as fast as opinion bred them in his braine. -And gladly he would have given over all further amorous solicitings, -but by some private perswasions of her message sent him, which in time -might so advance his services done for her sake, as would derive far -greater favours from her. Whereupon, he omitted no time or place, but -as occasion gave him any gracious permission, still plied her memorie, -with his manly rescuing her from the ravisher, 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 deserve -her, as he had done. - -So long he pursued her in this manner, that his speeches seemed hatefull -to her, and devising 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 service, 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 herselfe to paines and -servility: 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 uprore for the Ladies losse, the Father in no meane -affliction, the Lovers well-nere beside their wits, and every one elsee -most greevously 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 judgement can sound the depth of his wofull -extreamity? Fearing least some other theefe had now made a second -stealth of his divine Goddesse; he must needs follow her againe, -seeking quite throughout the world, never more returning backe to the -Court, nor to the place of his owne abiding, untill hee heard tidings -of his Mistresse, or ended his dayes in the search of her. No Village, -Town, Cottage, Castle, or any place elsee of note or name, did hee -leave unsought, but diligently he searched for _Serictha_; striving -to get knowledge, under what habit she lived thus concealed, but all -his labour was to no effect: which made him leave the places so much -frequented, and visite the solitary desert shades, entering into all -Caves 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 -rivers, 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 having got a sight of him, -presently covered her face with a veile. Love, who sate as Sentinell -both in the heart and eye of the gentle _Norwegian_ Lord, as quickly -discovered the subtilty of the faire Shephearddesse, enstructing the -soule of _Ocharus_, that thus she hid her face, as coveting not to -be knowne: whereupon he gathered, that doubtlesse this was shee, for -whom he hadde sought with such tedious travaile, and therefore going -directly unto her, thus hee spake. - -Gentle Princesse; wherefore do you thus hide your selfe from mee? -Why do you haunt these retreats and desolate abodes, having power to -command over infinite men, that cannot live but by your presence? -What hath moved you Madame, to flye from company, to dwel among desert -Rockes, and serve as a slave, to such as are no way worthy of your -service? Why do you forsake a potent King, whose onely daughter and -hope you are; leaving your countrey and royall traine of Ladies, -and so farre abasing your selfe, to live in the dejected state of a -servant, and to some rusticke clowne or peazant? What reason have you, -to despise so many worthy Lords, that dearely love and honour you, but -(above them all) your poore slave _Ocharus_, who hath made no spare of -his owne life, for the safety of yours, and also for the defence of -your honour? Royal maid, I am the same man that delivered you from the -villaine, who would have violated your faire chastity; and since then, -have not spared any payne or travell in your search: for whose losse, -King _Siwalde_ is in extreme anguish, the _Danes_ in mourning habites, -and _Ocharus_ even at the doore of death, being no way able to endure -your absence. - -Are you of the minde, worthy Madame, that I have not hitherto deserved -so much as one good looke or glance of your eye, in recompence of -so many good & loyall services? If Alas! I am neither ravisher, nor -demander of any unjust requests, or elsee incivill in my motions: -I may merit one regard of my Mistresse. I require onely so silly -a favour, that her eyes may pay me the wages for all which I have -hitherto done in her service. What would you do Madam, if I were an -importunate solicitor, and requested farre greater matters of you, in -just 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 covet, that she should any otherwise entreate -mee, then with such severity as beseemeth so great a Princesse. I aske -no more, but onely to elevate your chaste eyes, and grace me with -one little looke, as being the man, who for his vertue and loyall -affection, hath deserved more then that favour, 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 perceiving that it availed nothing to conceale hir -selfe, being by him so apparantly discovered; began now to speake -(which she had never done before, either to him, or any other of her -amorous suters) answering him in this manner. Lord _Ocharus_, it might -suffice you, that your importunity made me forsake my Fathers Court, -and causeth me to live 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 have presumed to do. For I am -resolved, never to favour you any otherwise, then hitherto I have done; -desiring you therefore, that _Serictha_ wanting an Interpreter to tell -you her will, you would now receive it from her owne mouth, determining -sooner to dye, then alter a jot of her intended purpose. - -_Ocharus_ hearing this unwelcome answer, was even upon the point to -have 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 unfitting for a man of his -ranke; hee tooke his leave of her, solemnly promising, not to forget -her further pursuite, but at all times to obey her so long as he -lived, although her commaund was very hard for him to endure. So hee -departed thence, not unto the Court, she being not there, that had -the power to enjoyne his presence: but home to his owne house, where -he was no sooner arrived, 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 service, who utterly despised him, and all -his endeavours which he undertooke. He began to accuse her of great -ingratitude, laying over-much respect uppon her vertue, to have no -feeling at all of his loyall sufferings; but meerely made a mockery -of his martyrdome. Heereupon, he concluded to give over 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 severity, as astonished -the courages of her stoutest servants; considering (more deliberately) -on the sincere affection of _Ocharus_, and that vertue onely made him -the friend to her modesty, and not wanton or lascivious appetite; she -felt a willing readinesse in her soule, to gratifie him in some worthy -manner, and to recompence some part of his travailes. Which to effect, -she resolved to follow him (in some counterfeite habite) even 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 served, 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 serveth -you in the poore degree of Shephearddesse, is the onely daughter to -_Siwalde_ King of the _Danes_: for whose love, so many great Lords have -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 rivals. But if my words -may not heerein sufficiently assure you, I would advise 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 -prevaile with you, and you remain assured, that I am she, whom your -Noble neighbour so deerely affecteth, albeit I never made any account -at all of him: then I do earnestly intreat you, so much to stand my -friend, as to provide some convenient means for me, whereby I may passe -unknowne to the Castle of _Ocharus_, to revenge my selfe on his civill -honesty, & smile at him hereafter, if he prove not so cleerely sighted, -as to know her being neere him, whom he vaunteth to love above all -women elsee. - -The good Countrey-woman hearing these wordes, and perceyving that she -had the Princesse in her house, of whose speeches she made not any -doubt, in regard of her stout countenance, gravity, and faire demeanour, -began to rellish something in her minde, farre differing from matter -of common understanding, and therefore roundly replied in this kind of -language. - -Madam (for servant I may no longer call you) I make no question to -the contrary, but that you are derived of high birth; having observed -your behaviour, and womanly carriage. And so much the more I remaine -assured thereof, having seene such great honour done unto 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 service, because you are the Princesse _Serictha_, whom I am to -performe all humble dutie unto, as being one of your meanest subjects. -And although you were not shee, yet would I not presume any way to -offend you, in regarde of the true and vertuous love, 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 whatsoever is mine, -which may any way sted you; for, to make you passe unknowne, I can and -will provide sufficiently, even to your own contentment, and in such -strange manner, as _Ocharus_ (were he never so cleerely sighted) shal -be deceived, you being attired in those fashion garments, which heere -in these parts are usually worne. - -_Serictha_ being wonderously joyfull at her answer, suffred hir to -paint, or rather soile her faire face, with the juice of divers hearbes -and rootes, and cloathed her in such an habite as those women use to -weare that live in the mountaines of _Norway_, upon the sea-coast -fronting _Great-Britain_. Being thus disguised, confidently she -went, to beguile the eie of her dearest friend, and so to returne -backe againe from him, having affoorded him such a secret favour, in -requitall of his honourable services; delivering her out of so great -a danger, and comming to visite her in so solitarie a life. Nor would -she have the womans company any further, then till she came within the -sight of _Ocharus_ his Castle; where when she was arrived (he being -then absent) the mother unto the Noble Gentleman, gave 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 received advertisement by his -mother, concerning the arrivall 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 travailes, and passed honest offices. Observing all her actions and -gestures, her wonted rigour never bending one jot, or gave way to her -eye to looke upon 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 give a final end to his greevous afflictions. - -Upon a watch-word given to his Mother, he pretended, and so caused it -to be noised through the house, that he was to marry a very honourable -Lady; which the constant and chaste maide verily beleeved; and -therefore gave the more diligent attendance (as a new-come servant) to -see all things in due decency, as no one could expresse herselfe more -ready, because she esteemed him above all other men. Yet such was the -obstinate opinion she concerned of her owne precisenesse, as she would -rather suffer all the flames of love, then expresse the least shew of -desire to any man living. Neverthelesse, she was inwardly offended, -that any other should have the honour, to make her vaunt of enjoying -_Ocharus_; whom (indeed) she coveted, 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 receiving the pretended Bride; shee employed her new Mayde -(_Serictha_ I meane) as busily as any of the rest. In the meane -while, _Ocharus_ was laid upon a bed, well noting all her carriage -and behaviour, shee having a lighted Candle in her hand, without any -Candlesticke to hold it in. As all the servants (both men and maids) -were running hastily from 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 jote in her -height of mind, and to declare that her corage was invincible; was -so farre off from casting away the small snuffe which offended her, -that she rather graspt it the more strongly, even to the enflaming of -her owne flesh, which gave light to the rest about their businesse. A -matter (almost) as marvellous, as the acte of the noble _Romane_, who -gave 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 have already saide) observed every thing that -_Serictha_ did; perceiving that she spake not one worde, albeit her -hand burned in such fierce manner, was much astonished at her sprightly -mind. And as he was about to advise her, to hurle away the fire so much -offending her; Curiositie (meerely naturall unto Women) made the Ladie -lift uppe her eyes, to see (by stealth) whether her friend had noted -her invincible 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 used, 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 ever 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 loved and desired, -whom I have followed with such painefull travelse, exposing my life -to infinite perils in your service: you have seene and lookt on him, -who never craved any thing of you, but onely this favour, whereof you -cannot bereave me againe, because the Gods themselves, at such time as -I least expected it, have bestowne it on me, as my deserved recompence, -and worthy reward. - -In the delivery of these words, he kissed and embraced her a thousand -times, shee not using any great resistance against him, but onely -as somewhat offended with her selfe, either for being so rash in -looking on him, or elsee 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 armes; but rather, evident signes of hearty contentment, -yet in very bashfull and modest manner, willing enough to accept his -loving kindnesse, yet not wandring from her wonted chaste carriage. He -being favourably excused, for the outward expression of his amourous -behaviour 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, never (with her will) to have any other -Husband but _Ocharus_, who (above all other) had best deserved her, by -his generosity, vertue, manly courage, and valiancy; whereof he might -the better assure himselfe, because (of her owne voluntary disposition) -shee followed to find him out, not for any other occasion, but to -revenge her selfe (by this honest Office) for all that he had done or -undertaken, to winne the grace and love of the King of _Denmarkes_ -Daughter, to whom he presented such dutifull service. - -_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 stratagem against him, -to dispossesse him of so faire a felicity; left off his counterfeit -intended marriage, and effected this in good earnest, and was wedded -to his most esteemed _Serictha_. Not long had these lovers lived in -the lawfull and sacred rites of marriage, but King _Siwalde_ was -advertised, that his Daughter had given her consent to _Ocharus_, and -received him as her noble Husband. The party was not a jot 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 error 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 overbold arrogancy, he -being such a great and powerfull King, to be so lightly respected by -his Subject, 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 adventurous then she was before. She took the matter -in hand, went to her Father, who welcommed her most lovingly, and -so pleasing were her speeches, carried with such wit and womanly -discretion, that nothing wanted to approve what she had done. Matters -which he had never knowne, or so much as heard of, were now openly -revealed, how _Ocharus_ had delivered her from the ravisher, what -worthie respect he then used 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 advise of his -Sonne in Law, whom so highly he esteemed, and liked so respectively of -him, and his race; that his Queene dying, hee married with the Sister -to _Ocharus_, going hand in band with the gentle and modest Princesse -_Serictha_. - -This Novell of _Dioneus_, was commended by all the company, and so much -the rather, because it was free from all folly and obscennesse. And the -Queene perceiving, 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 _Dioneus_, 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 us 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 love 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, everie -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. Lovely Ladies, I would have you to -knowe, that since the time of ability in me, to distinguish betweene -good and evill, I have alwayes bene subject (perhaps by the meanes of -some beautie heere among us) to the proud and imperious dominion of -love, with expression of all duty, humility, and most intimate desire -to please: yet all hath prooved to no purpose, but still I have bin -rejected for some other, whereby my condition hath falne from ill to -worse, and so still it is likely, even 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 cases as are most -conformable to my calamity, namely of such, whose love hath had unhappy -ending, because I await no other issue of mine; nor willingly would I -be called by any other name, but onely, the miserable and unfortunate -Lover. - -Having thus spoken, he arose againe; granting leave to the rest, to -recreate themselves till supper time. The Garden was very faire and -spacious, affoording large limits for their severall walkes; the -Sun being already so low descended, that it could not be offensive -to anyone, the Connies, Kids, and young Hindes skipping every where -about them, to their no meane pleasure and contentment. _Dioneus_ & -_Fiammetta_, sate singing together, of _Messire Guiglielmo_ and the -Lady of _Vertue. Philomena_ and _Pamphilus_ playing at the Chesse, all -sporting themselves as best they pleased. But the houre of Supper being -come, and the Tables covered about the faire fountaine, they sate downe -and supt in most loving manner. Then _Philostratus_, not to swerve from -the course which had beene observed by the Queenes before him, so soone -as the Tables were taken away, gave 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 have 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 lovely, so needs must be whatsoever commeth from -you, therefore let us heare such as you have. Madam _Lauretta_, giving -enstruction to the Chorus, prepared, and began in this manner. - - _The Song. - - No soule so comfortlesse, - Hath more cause to expresse, - Like woe and heavinesse, - As I poore amorous Maide. - - He that did forme the Heavens and every Starre, - Made me as best him pleased, - Lovely and gracious, no Element at jarre, - Or elsee in gentle breasts to moove sterne Warre, - But to have strifes appeased - Where Beauties eye should make the deepest scarre. - And yet when all things are confest, - Never 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 Love-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 joy, - 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 unkinde exchange; - Another Beauty did my hopes betray, - And stole my dearest Love from me away: - Which I thought very strange, - Considering vowes were past, and what elsee may - Assure a loyall Maidens trust, - Never was Lover so unjust, - 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 lovely Nymphes, lend hands mine eyes to close, - And let him wander wheresoere he goes, - Vaunting of mine unrest; - Beguiling others by his treacherous showes, - Grave on my Monument, - No true love was worse spent, - Then mine poore amorous Maide. - No soule so comfortlesse, &c._ - -So did Madam _Lauretta_ finish her Song, which beeing well observed of -them all, was understood by some in divers kinds: some alluding it one -way, & others according to their own apprehensions, but all consenting, -that both it was an excellent Ditty, well devised, and most sweetly -sung. Afterward, lighted Torches being brought, because the Stars had -already richly spangled all the heavens, and the fit houre of rest -approaching: the King commanded them all to their Chambers, where wee -meane to leave them untill the next morning. - - -_The End of the Third Day._ - - - - -The Fourth Day. - -_Wherein all the severall Discourses, are under the Government of -Honourable_ Philostratus: _And concerning such persons, whose Loves -have had successelesse ending._ - -The Induction unto the ensuing Novelles. - - -Most worthy Ladies, I have alwayes heard, as well by the sayings of -the judicious, as also by mine owne observation and reading, that the -impetuous and violent windes of envy, do sildome blow turbulently; but -on the highest Towers and tops of the trees most eminently advanced. -Yet (in mine opinion) I have found my selfe much deceived; because, by -striving with my very uttermost endeavour, to shunne the outrage of -those implacable winds; I have laboured to go, not onely by plaine and -even pathes, but likewise through the deepest vallies. As very easily -may be seene and observed in the reading of these few small Novelse, -which I have 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 have bene rudely shaken, yea, -almost halfe unrooted, by the extreame agitation of those blustering -winds, and torne in peeces by that base back-biter, envy: yet have 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 observed by the wise, to bee most -true; That nothing is without envy in this world, but misery onely. - -Among variety of opinions, faire Ladies; some, seeing these Novelties, -spared not to say; That I have bene over-pleasing to you, and wandered -too farre from mine owne respect, imbasing my credit and repute, by -delighting my selfe too curiously, for the fitting of your humours, -and have extolled your worth too much, with addition of worse speeches -then I meane to utter. Others, seeming to expresse more maturity -of judgment, have likewise said, That it was very unsuteable for -my yeares, to meddle with womens wanton pleasures, or contend to -delight you by the verie least of my labours. Many more, making shew of -affecting my good fame and esteeme, say; I had done much more wisely, -to have 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 -continuall necessities, then to glut the worlde with gulleries, and -feede my hopes with nothing but winde. And others, to calumniate my -travailes, would make you beleeve, that such matters as I have 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 perceive -(vertuous Ladies) how while I labour in your service, I am agitated and -molested with these blusterings, and bitten even to the bare bones, -by the sharpe and venomous teeth of envy; all which (as heaven 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 utmost malice, I will make no -spare of my best abilities, and, without answering them any otherwise -then is fitting, will quietly keepe their slanders from mine eares, -with some sleight reply, yet not deserving to be dreamt on. For I -apparantly perceive, that (having not already attained to the third -part of my pains) they are growne to so great a number, and presume -very farre uppon my patience: they may encrease, except they be -repulsed 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 serve for me in their resistance. But before I come to answer -any one of them, I will relate a Tale in mine owne favour; 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 -untold, 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 lived 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 unto his calling. He had a wife whom he loved 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, leaving 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 jewell of his joy. And being -thus divided from the company which he most esteemed: he determined -also to separate himselfe from the world, addicting al his endeavours -to the service of God; and applying his yong sonne likewise, to the -same holy exercises. Having given away all his goods for Gods sake, he -departed to the Mountaine _Asinaio_, where he made him a small Cell, -and lived there with his little sonne, onely upon 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 elsee but devout prayers, leading this kinde -of life for many yeares together, not permitting him ever to goe forth -of the Cell, or shewing him any other but himselfe. - -The good old man used divers times to go to _Florence_, where having -received (according to his opportunities) the almes of divers 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 resolved him: whereuppon, the youth thus -spake unto him. Father, you are now growne very aged, and hardly can -endure such painfull travell: why do you not let me go to _Florence_, -that by making me knowne to your well disposed friends, such as are -devoutly addicted both to God, and you; I, who am young, and better -able to endure travaile then you are, may go thither to supply our -necessities, and you take your ease in the mean while? The aged man, -perceiving the great growth of his Sonne, and thinking him to be so -well instructed in Gods service, 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 never 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 resolved 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; -whereto the olde man replyed thus. Sonne, cast downe thy lookes unto -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 mervaile, that hee who had never seene -any women before now; appeared not to respect the faire Churches, -Palaces, goodly horses, Golde, Silver, or any thing elsee which he had -seene; but, as fixing his affection onely upon this sight, sodainly -said to the old man. Good Father, do so much for me, as to let me -have one of these Gozlings. Alas Sonne (replyed the Father) holde thy -peace I pray thee, and do not desire any such naughty things. Then by -way of demand, he thus proceeded, saying. Father, are these naughty -things made of themselves? 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 judgement, I have -not seene any thing so faire and pleasing in mine eye, as these are, -who excell those painted Angelse, which heere in the Churches you have -shewn me. And therefore Father, if either you love me, or have any care -of me, let mee have one of these 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. Perceiving presently, that Nature had farre greater -power then his Sonnes capacity and understanding; which made him -repent, for fondly bringing his sonne to _Florence_. - -Having 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 envious depravers: such as have saide (faire Ladies) that -I am double blame-worthy, in seeking to please you, and that you are -also over-pleasing to me; which freely I confesse before all the -world, that you are singularly pleasing to me, and I have stroven -how to please you effectually. I would demand of them (if they seeme -so much amazed heereat,) considering, I never knew what belonged to -true love kisses, amorous embraces, and their delectable fruition, -so often received from your graces; but onely that I have seene, and -do yet daily behold, your commendable conditions, admired beauties, -noble adornments by nature, and (above all the rest) your womenly and -honest conversation. If hee that was nourished, bred, and educated, on -a savage solitary Mountain, within the confines of a poore small Cell, -having no other company then his Father: If such a one, I say, uppon -the very first sight of your sexe, could so constantly confesse, that -women were onely worthy of affection, and the object which (above all -things elsee) 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 endeavour likewise to please you with my utmost paines? Never had the -auspitious heavens allowed me life, but onely to love you; and from my -very infancie, mine intentions have alwaies bene that way bent: feeling -what vertue flowed from your faire eies, understanding the mellifluous -accents of your speech, whereto the enkindled flames of your sighes -gave no meane grace. But remembring especially, that nothing could -so please an Hermite, as your divine perfections, an unnurtured Lad, -without understanding, and little differing from a meere brutish beast: -undoubtedly, whosoever loveth not women, and desireth to be affected of -them againe; may well be ranked among these women-haters, speaking out -of cankred spleene, and utterly ignorant of the sacred power (as also -the vertue) of naturall affection, whereof they seeming so carelesse, -the like am I of their depraving. - -Concerning them that touch me with mine age; Do not they know, that -although Leeks have white heads, yet the blades of them are alwaies -greene? But referring them to their flouts and taunts, I answer, that -I shal never hold it any disparagement to mee, so long as my life -endureth, to delight my selfe with those exercises, which _Guido -Cavalconti_, 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 approove 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 us. And yet neverthelesse, when any man departeth from -them, they delighting themselves, to see such things as may bee -thought like them, do not therein deserve 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 have a -lively resemblance with the Muses: so that, if women were pleasing for -nothing elsee, yet they ought to be generally pleasing in that respect. -Beside all this, women have bin the occasion of my composing a thousand -Verses, whereas the Muses never caused me to make so much as one. Verie -true it is, that they gave me good assistance, and taught me how I -shold compose them, yea, and directed me in writing of these Novelse. -And how basely soever they judge of my studies, yet have the Muses -never scorned to dwell with me, perhaps for the respective service, and -honourable resemblance of those Ladies with themselves, whose vertues -I have not spared to commend by them. Wherefore, in the composition of -these varieties, I have not strayed so farre from _Parnassus_, nor the -Muses; as in their silly conjectures they imagine. - -But what shall I say to them, who take so great compassion on my -povertie, as they advise me to get something, whereon to make my -living? 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 drive me to crave kindnesse of them; questionles, -they would then say: Goe, seeke comfort among thy fables and follies. -Yet I would have them know, that poore Poets have alwayes found more -among their fables & fictions; then many rich men ever 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 -inventions and fables: whereas on the contrary, a great number of -other busier braines, seeking to gaine more then would serve them to -live on; have utterly runne uppon their owne ruine, and overthrowne -themselves for ever. What should I say more? To such men, as are either -so suspitious of their owne charitie, or of my necessity, whensoever -it shall happen: I can answere (I thanke my God for it) with the -Apostle; I know how to abounde, & 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 inquisitive into my discourses, to have 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 jot discordant from my -writing; and then I would freely confesse, that they had some reason -to reprehend me, and I should endeavour to make them amends. But untill -they can touch me with any thing elsee, but words onely; I must let them -wander in their owne giddy opinions, and followe the course projected -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 heavens 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, driving it from one place to another; or, -carrying it up to the aire, many times it falleth downe againe on mens -heads, yea, upon 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 ever I strove to please you -with my uttermost abilities in any thing, surely I must now contend to -expresse it more then ever. For, I know right well, that no man can -say with reason, except some such as my selfe, who love and honour -you, that we do any otherwise then as nature hath commanded us; and to -resist her lawes, requires a greater and more powerfull strength then -ours: and the contenders against her supreame priviledges, have either -laboured meerely in vaine, or elsee incurred their owne bane. Which -strength, I freely confesse my selfe not to have, neither covet 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 use it on mine own behalfe. Wherefore, -I would advise them that thus checke and controule mee, to give over, -and be silent; and if their cold humours cannot learne to love, let them -live still in their frostie complexion, delighting themselves in their -corrupted appetites: suffering me to enjoy mine owne, for the little -while I have to live; 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 have wandered -too farre. By this time the Sun had chased the Starre-light from the -heavens, 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 _Fiammetta_, that she -should give beginning to the dayes Novelse: when she, without any -longer delaying, began 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 Novell. - -_Wherein is declared the power of Love, and their cruelty justly -reprehended, who imagine to make the vigour thereof cease, by abusing -or killing one of the Lovers._ - - -Our King (most Noble and vertuous Ladies) hath this day given us a -subject, 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 -reviving the teares of others, to bedew our owne cheekes withall. Nor -can any such argument be spoken of, without moving compassion both -in the reporters, and hearers. But (perhaps) it was his highnesse -pleasure, to moderate the delights which we have already had. Or -whatsoever elsee hath provoked him thereto, seeing it is not lawfull for -mee, to alter or contradict his appointment; I will recount an accident -very pittiful, or rather most unfortunate, 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 Lovers, especially one of them, -being both neere and deere unto 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 -loved and esteemed, as never was any childe more deerely affected of a -Father: and so farre extended his over-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 divers yeares) the -age meete for marriage. Neverthelesse, at length, he matched her with -the Sonne to the Duke of _Capua_, who lived 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 favour and -feature, as could be wished in any woman, yong, queintly disposed, and -of admirable understanding, more (perhappes) then was requisite in -so weake a bodie. Continuing thus in Court with the King her Father, -who loved her beyond all his future hopes; like a Lady of great and -glorious magnificence, she lived in all delights & pleasure. She well -perceiving, 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 -private consultations, to make choise of some one especiall friend or -favourite (if Fortune would prove 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 brave -Gentlemen, and others of inferiour quality, as commonly the Courts of -Kings & Princes are, whose carriage and demeanour she very heedfully -observed. There was a yong Gentleman among all the rest, a servant to -her Father, and named _Guiscardo_, a man not derived from any great -descent by bloode, yet much more Noble by vertue and commendable -behaviour, 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 Bavin -to take flame, yet kept so closely as possibly she could; as Ladies are -warie enough in their love. - -The yong Gentleman, though poore, being neither blocke nor dullard, -perceived what he made no outward shew of, and understood 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 loving mutually (yet secretly) -in this manner, and shee coveting nothing more, then to have private -conference with him, yet not daring to trust anyone with so important a -matter; at length she devised a new cunning stratageme, to compasse her -longing desire, and acquaint him with her private purpose, which proved -to bee in this manner. Shee wrote a Letter, concerning what was the -next day to be done, for their secret meeting together; and conveying -it within the joynt of an hollow Cane, in jesting manner threw it to -_Guiscardo_, saying; Let your man make use of this, insted of a paire -of bellowes, when he meaneth to make fire in your chamber. _Guiscardo_ -taking up the Cane, and considering with himselfe, that neither was -it given, or the wordes thus spoken, but doubtlesse on some important -occasion: went unto his lodging with the Cane, where viewing it -respectively, 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 service therein -concerned; he was the most joyfull man of the world, and began to -contrive his aptest meanes, for meeting with his gracious Mistresse, -and according as she had given him direction. In a corner of the Kings -Palace, it being seated on a rising hill, a cave had long beene made -in the body of the same hill, which received no light into it, but by -a small spiracle or vent-loope, made out ingeniously on the hills side. -And because it hadde not in long time bene frequented, by the accesse -of any body, that vent-light was over-growne with briars and bushes, -which almost engirt it round about. No one could descend into this -cave 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 cave 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 Love, 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 discovered 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 cave; observing the loope-light, -& had made it commodious for her purpose, shee gave knowledge thereof -to _Guiscardo_, to have him devise 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 -hills side, and given it a larger entrance for his safer passage; he -provided a Ladder of cords, with steppes sufficient for his descending -and ascending, as also a wearing sute made of leather, to keepe his -skinne unscratched of the thornes, and to avoide all suspition of his -resorting thither. In this manner went he to the saide loope-hole the -night following, and having 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 cave, 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 leave her alone in her Chamber, and -not to returne untill she called for them, locking the doore her selfe -for better security. Then opened she the doore of the cave, and going -downe the staires, found there her amorous friend _Guiscardo_, whom she -saluting with a chaste and modest kisse; caused him to ascend up the -stayres with her into her chamber. This long desired, and now obtained -meeting, caused the two deerely affecting Lovers, in kinde discourse -of amorous argument (without incivill or rude demeanour) to spend there -the most part of that day, to their hearts joy and mutuall contentment. -And having concluded on their often meeting there, in this cunning -& concealed sort; _Guiscardo_ went downe into the cave againe, the -Princesse making the doore fast after him, and then went forth among -her Women. So in the night season, _Guiscardo_ ascended uppe againe -by his Ladder of cords, and covering the loope-hole with brambles and -bushes, returned (unseene of any) to his owne lodging: the cave being -afterward guilty of their often meeting there in this manner. - -But Fortune, who hath alwayes bin a fatall enemy to lovers stolne -felicities, became envious of their thus secret meeting, and overthrew -(in an instant) all their poore happinesse, by an accident most -spightfull and malicious. The King had used divers dayes before, after -dinner time, to resort all alone to his daughters Chamber, there -conversing with her in most loving manner. One unhappy day amongst the -rest, when the Princesse, being named _Ghismonda_, was sporting in her -privat 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 have 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 upon the bed; his body -being covered with the curtaine, as if he hid himselfe purposely; hee -mused on so many matters, untill at last he fell fast asleepe. - -It hath bin observed as an ancient Adage, that when disasters are -ordained to any one, commonly they prove to be inevitable, as poore -_Ghismonda_ could witnesse too well. For, while the King thus slept, -shee having (unluckily) appointed another meeting with _Guiscardo_, -left hir Gentlewomen in the Garden, and stealing softly into her -Chamber, having 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 usuall -kinde conference againe, with sighes and loving 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 thereat. Once he intended, to cry out for helpe, -to have 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 less disgrace to himselfe, performe what hee had rashly -intended to do. - -The poore discovered Lovers, having ended their amorous interparlance, -without suspition of the Kings being so neer in person, or any else, -to betray their over-confident trust; _Guiscardo_ descended againe -into the Cave, and she leaving the Chamber, returned to her women in -the Garden; all which _Tancrede_ too well observed, and in a rapture -of fury, departed (unseene) into his owne lodging. The same night, -about the houre of mens first sleepe, and according as he had given -order; _Guiscardo_ was apprehended, even 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 love & respect I have used towards thee, hath not -deserved the shameful wrong which thou hast requited me withall, and as -I have seene with mine owne eyes this day. Whereto _Guiscardo_ could -answer nothing elsee, but onely this: Alas my Lord! Love is able to do -much more, then either you, or I. Whereupon, _Tancrede_ commanded, that -he should bee secretly well guarded, in a neere adjoining Chamber, and -on the next day, _Ghismonda_ having (as yet) heard nothing heereof, the -Kings braine being infinitely busied and troubled, after dinner, and -as he often had used 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 -never have bene altred in mee, by any sinister reports whatsoever, -had not mine eyes seene, and mine eares heard the contrary. Nor did I -so much as conceive a thought either of thine affection, or private -conversing with any man, but onely he that was to be thy husband. -But now, I my selfe being able to avouch 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 have 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 -converse with that silly yong man _Guiscardo_, one of very meane and -base descent, and by mee (even for Gods sake) from his very youngest -yeares, brought uppe to this instant in my Court; wherein thou hast -given me much affliction of minde, and so overthrowne my senses, as I -cannot wel imagine how I should deale with thee. For him, whom I have -this night caused to be surprized, even as he came forth of your close -contrived conveyance, and detaine as my prisoner, I have resolved 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 unfeigned affection I bare thee, as never any -father could expresse more to his child: and then againe, thou hast -kindled a most just indignation in me, by thine immodest and wilfull -folly, and whereas Nature pleadeth pardon for the one, yet justice -standeth up against the other, and urgeth cruell severity against thee: -neverthelesse, before I will determine upon 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. - -Having thus spoken, he hung downe the head in his bosome, weeping -as abundantly, as if it had beene a childe severely disciplinde. On -the other side, _Ghismonda_ hearing the speeches of her Father, and -perceiving withall, that not onely her secret love was discovered, 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 unto: but rather, with height of courage, controling feare or -servile basenesse, and declaring invincible fortitude in her very -lookes, shee concluded with her selfe, rather then to urge any humble -perswasions, shee would lay her life downe at the stake. For plainely -shee perceived, that _Guiscardo_ already was a dead man in Law, and -death was likewise as welcome to her, rather then the deprivation of -her Love; 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 have done, or to entreate any favour from -you, is now no part of my disposition: for as the one can little availe -me, so shall not the other any way advantage me. Moreover, I covet -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 have loved, and still doe, -honourable _Guiscardo_, purposing the like so long as I shall live, -which will be but a small while: but if it bee possible to continue -the same affection after death, it is for ever 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, have begotten a -Daughter of the selfe same composition, and not made of stone or yron. -Moreover, 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 evermore were exercised in Armes; yet you should -likewise understand, that negligence and idle delights, have mighty -power, not onely in yong people, but also in them of greatest yeeres. - -I being then made of flesh and blood, and so derived from your selfe; -having 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 subject to naturall desires, wherein such knowledge as I have once -already had, in the estate of my marriage, perhaps might move a further -intelligence of the like delights, according to the better ability of -strength, which exceeding all capacity of resistance, induced a second -motive to affection, answerable to my time and youthful desires, and -so (like a yong woman) I became amorous againe; yet did I strive, -even with all my utmost might, and best vertuous faculties abiding in -me, no way to disgrace either you or my selfe, as (in equall censure) -yet I have not done. But Nature is above all humane power, and Love, -commanded by Nature, hath prevailed for Love, joyning with Fortune: in -meere pity 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, howsoever 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 -advise; I chose him above all other, and having his honest harmelesse -conversation, mutually we enjoyed our hearts contentment. Now it -appeareth, that I having not offended but by love; in imitation of -vulgar opinion, rather then truth: you seeke to reprove 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 evident, -that you doe not so much checke my fault, as the ordination of Fortune; -who many times advanceth men of meanest esteeme, and abaseth them -of greater merit. But leaving this discourse, let us looke into the -originall of things, wherein wee are first to observe, that from one -masse or lumpe of flesh, both we, and all other received 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 unnoble: now although contrary use did afterward hide -and conceale this Law, yet was it not therefore banished from Nature or -good manners. In which respect, whosoever did execute all his actions -by vertue, declared himselfe openly to be noble; and he that tearmed -him otherwise, it was an error in the miscaller, and not in the person -so wrongfully called; as the very same priviledge is yet in full force -among us at this day. - -Cast an heedfull eye then (good Father) upon all your Gentlemen, and -advisedly examine their vertues, conditions and manner of behaviour. On -the other side, observe those parts remaining in _Guiscardo_: and then, -if you will judge 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 never credited from the report or judgement of any person; but onely -by your speeches, and mine owne eyes as true witnesses. Who did ever -more commend _Guiscardo_, extolling all those singularities in him, -most requisite to be in an honest vertuous man; then you your selfe -have done? Nor neede you to be sorry, or ashamed of your good opinion -concerning him; for, if mine eyes have not deceived my judgement, you -never gave him the least part of praise, but I have knowne much more -in him, then ever your words were able to expresse: wherefore, if I -have beene any way deceived, truly the deceit proceeded onely from -you. How will you then maintaine, that I have 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 have not bestowne place of more preferment, on -a man so honest and well deserving, and having beene so long a time -your servant. Neverthelesse, poverty impaireth not any part of noble -Nature, but wealth hurries it into horrible confusions. Many Kings and -great Princes have heretofore beene poore, when divers of them that -have delved into the Earth, and kept Flockes in the Feld, have beene -advanced 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 have resolved now in your extremity of yeeres, -to doe that which your younger dayes evermore despised, I meane, to -become cruell; use your utmost cruelty against me, for I will never -entreate you to the contrary, because I am the sole occasion of this -offence, if it doe deserve the name of an offence. And this I dare -assure you, that if you deale not with me, as you have done already, or -intend to _Guiscardo_, mine owne hands shall act as much: and therefore -give over 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 have deserved it. - -The King knew well enough the high spirit of his Daughter, but yet -(neverthelesse) he did not beleeve, that her words would prove actions, -or shee doe as shee saide. And therefore parting from her, and without -intent of using 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 servants to his -Daughter, with command also to use these words to her. Thy Father hath -sent thee this present, to comfort thee with that thing which most of -all thou affectest, even 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, whensoever any crosse accident should come from her -Father; whereupon, when the messenger from her Father had delivered her -the present, and uttered 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 certainely, that it was the -heart of _Guiscardo_; then looking stearnely on the servant, thus she -spake unto him. My honest friend, it is no more then right and justice, -that so worthy a heart as this is, should have any worser grave then -gold, wherein my Father hath dealt most wisely. So, lifting the heart -up to her mouth; and sweetly kissing it, shee proceeded thus. In all -things, even till this instant, (being the utmost period of my life) -I have evermore found my Fathers love most effectuall to me; but now -it appeareth farre greater, then at any time heretofore: and therefore -from my mouth, thou must deliver him the latest thankes that ever I -shall give him, for sending me such an honourable present. - -These words being ended, holding the Cup fast in her hand, and looking -seriously upon 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 travailes and miseries -of this World, have now no more to meddle with thee, and thy very -heaviest enemy, hath bestowed such a grave on thee, as thy greatnesse -in vertue worthily deserveth; now nothing elsee is wanting, wherewith -to beautifie thy Funerall, but onely her sighes & teares, that was so -deare unto thee in thy life time. And because thou mightest the more -freely enjoy 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 resolved, to die with drie eyes, and not -shedding one teare, dreadlesse of their utmost malice towards me. - -And when I have given thee the due oblation of my teares, my soule, -which sometime thou hast kept most carefully, shall come to make a -sweete conjunction with thine: for in what company elsee can I travaile -more contentedly, and to those unfrequented silent shades, but onely in -thine? As yet I am sure it is present here, in this Cup sent me by my -Father, as having a provident 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. - -Having thus finished her complaint, even as if her head had been -converted 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 moved to -compassionate teares, they often demanded (albeit in vaine) the -occasion of her sad complaining, comforting her to their utmost power. -When shee was not able to weepe any longer, wiping her eyes, and -lifting up 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 uneffected; 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 upon the heart lying in the Cup, -couragiously advancing it to her mouth, shee dranke it up every drop; -which being done, shee lay downe upon her bed, holding her Lovers 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 upon her bed; -beholding her in such passionate pangs, with teares streaming downe his -reverend beard, he used many kinde words to comfort her, when boldly -thus shee spake unto him. Father (quoth she) well may you spare these -teares, because they are unfitting for you, and not any way desired -by me; who but your selfe, hath seene any man to mourne for his owne -wilfull offence. Neverthelesse, if but the least jot of that love doe -yet abide in you, whereof you have made such liberall profession to me; -let me obtaine this my very last request, to wit, that seeing I might -not privately enjoy the benefit of _Guiscardoes_ love, and while he -lived; let yet (in death) one publike grave containe both our bodies, -that death may affoord us, what you so cruelly in life denied us. - -Extremity of griefe and sorrow, with-held his tongue from returning -any answer, and shee perceiving her end approaching, held the heart -still closed to her owne bare brest, saying; Here Fortune, receive -two true hearts latest oblation, for, in this manner are we comming -to thee. So closing her eyes, all sense forsooke her, life leaving -her body breathlesse. Thus ended the haplesse love of _Guiscardo_, -and _Ghismonda_, for whose sad disaster, when the King had mourned -sufficiently, and repented fruitlessly; he caused both their bodies -to be honourably embalmed, and buried in a most royall Monument, not -without generall sorrow of the subjects of _Salerne_. - - - - -_Fryar_ Albert _made a young Venetian Gentlewoman beleeve, that God_ -Cupid _was falne in love with her, and he resorted oftentimes unto -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 savage man, he was brought upon the Rialto of -Saint_ Marke, _and being there publikely knowne by the Brethren of his -Order; he was committed to Prison._ - -The second Novell. - -_Reprehending the lewd lives of dissembling hypocrites; and checking -the arrogant pride of vaine-headed women._ - -The Novell 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 have commended the kindnesse -of fortune, if in the whole course of my life, I had tasted the least -moity of that delight, which _Guiscardo_ received by conversing 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 enjoying 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 love, -according as Madam _Fiammetta_ hath already begun, to let fall more -dew-drops on the fire of mine afflictions. Madam _Pampinea_ perceiving -what a taske was imposed on her, knew well (by her owne disposition) -the inclination of the company, whereof shee was more respective, 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 used as a common Proverbe; that a bad man, -taken and reputed to be honest and good, may commit many evils, yet -neither credited, or suspected: which proverbe giveth mee very ample -matter to speake of, and yet not varying from our intention, concerning -the hypocrisie of some religious persons, who having their garments -long and large, their faces made artificially pale, their language -meeke and humble, to get mens goods from them; yet sower, harsh, and -stearne enough, in checking and controuling other mens errors, as also -in urging others to give, and themselves to take, without any other -hope or meanes of salvation. Nor doe they endeavour like other men, to -worke out their soules health with feare and trembling; but, even as if -they were sole owners, Lords, and possessors of Paradice, will appoint -to every 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 deceive themselves, but all such -as give 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 under -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 Novices, 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 lived 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 delivered a matter of sound truth. Wherefore, perceiving -that his lewdnesse allowed him no longer dwelling there; like a -desperate adventurer, he transported himselfe thence to _Venice_, the -receptacle of all foule sinne and abhomination, intending there to -exercise his wonted bad behaviour, and live as wickedly as ever 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 devotion, 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, never -eating flesh, or drinking wine, but when hee was provided 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. Moreover, being -made Priest, when he was celebrating Masse at the Altar, if he saw -himselfe to be observed by any; he would most mournefully reade the -passion of our Saviour, as one whose teares cost him little, whensoever -hee pleased to use 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 lover? Her -patience being exceedingly provoked, stearne anger appeared in her -lookes, which caused her to returne him this answer. How now Sir -_Domine_? what? have you no eyes in your head? Can you not distinguish -between mine, and these other common beauties? I could have Lovers -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 have you -beheld, any way answerable to mine, and are more fit for Gods, then -mortals. - -Many other idle speeches shee uttered, in proud opinion of her beauty, -whereby Friar _Albert_ presently perceived, 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. Neverthelesse, to shew himselfe an holy and religious man -now, he began to reprehend her, and told her plainely, that she was -vain-glorious, and overcome 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 -giving him divers 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 have some conference alone with her selfe; shee tooke him into a -private Parlour, 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 used to you the other day, -when you were with me at confession: because, the very night ensuing -thereon, I was chastised in such cruell manner, as I was never able -to stirre forth of my bed, untill this very instant morning; whereto -the weake witted Gentlewoman thus replyed. And who I pray you (quoth -she) did chastise you so severely? 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 devotion, according to my usuall 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 Quiver 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 reprove the celestiall beauty of Madam _Lisetta_, who (next to my -Mother _Venus_) I love most dearely. Whereupon I perceived, he was -the great commanding God _Cupid_, and therefore I craved most humbly -pardon of him. I will pardon thee (quoth he) but upon this condition, -that thou goe to her so soone as conveniently thou canst, and (by lowly -humility) prevaile 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 -elsee 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; conceived 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 severe correction; which that it may -no more be inflicted on you, I doe freely pardon you; yet with this -_proviso_, that you tell me, what the God elsee saide unto you; whereto -Fryar _Albert_ thus replyed. Madam, seeing you have so graciously -vouchsafed to pardon me, I will thankfully tell you all: but you must -be very carefull and respective, that whatsoever I shall reveale unto -you, must so closely be concealed, as no living creature in the World -may know it; for you are the onely happy Lady now living, and that -happinesse relieth on your silence and secrecie: with solemne vowes and -protestations shee sealed up 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 conversing with -you. But in regard he is a God, and meerely a spirit in forme, whereby -neither you or any elsee have 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, giving me charge also to know of you, when you shall -please to have him come, and in whose similitude you would have him -to come, whereof he will not faile; in which respect, you may justly -thinke your selfe to be the onely happy woman living, and farre beyond -all other in your good fortune. - -Mistris want-wit presently answered, shee was well contented, that God -_Cupid_ should love her, and she would returne the like love againe -to him; protesting withall, that wheresoever shee should see his -majesticall picture, she would set a hallowed burning Taper before it. -Moreover, at all times he should be most welcome to her, whensoever -hee would vouchsafe to visite her; for, he should alwayes finde her -alone in her private Chamber: on this condition, that his olde Love -_Psyches_, and all other beauties elsee whatsoever, 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 offensive to her. - -Madam (quoth Friar _Albert_) most wisely have you answered, & leave -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 prejudice -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 give him -entertainment, without any taxation of the world, or ill apprehension -of the most curious inquisition. Beside, a greater happinesse can never -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 joyes -of Lovers 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 severe punishment inflicted on him by God _Cupid_, for the -reproachfull speeches he had given 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 give him welcome to morrow in -the evening, 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 use of his wings, he then would flye in at your window, -and then you could not be able to see him. - -Upon this conclusion, _Albert_ departed, leaving _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 over with Starres, and spangles of Gold, a Bow and Quiver -of Arrowes, with wings also fastened to his backe behinde him, and all -cunningly covered with his Friars habit, which must be the sole meanes -for his safe passage. - -Having obtained licence of his Superiour, and being accompanyed with -an holy Brother of the Convent, yet ignorant of the businesse by him -intended; he went to the house of a friend of his, which was his usuall -receptacle, whensoever he went about such deeds of darkness. There -did he put on his dissembled habit of God _Cupid_, with his winges, -Bowe, and Quiver, in formall fashion; and then (clouded over with his -Monkes Cowle) leaves his companion to awaite his returning backe, while -he visited foolish _Lisetta_, according to her expectation, readily -attending for the Gods arrivall. - -_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 majesticke motion of his -body, wings, and bow, as if he had bene God _Cupid_, indeede converted -into a body much bigger of stature, then Painters commonly do describe -him, her wisedome was so overcome with feare and admiration, that she -fell on her knees before him, expressing all humble reverence unto him. -And he spreading his wings over 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 love and affection towards her. So -delicately was he perfumed with odorifferous favours, and so compleate -of person in his spangled garments, that she could do nothing elsee, -but wonder at his rare behaviour, reputing her felicity beyond all -Womens in the world, and utterly impossible to bee equalled, such was -the pride of her presuming. For he told her divers tales and fables, -of his awefull power among the other Gods, and stolne pleasures of his -upon the earth; yet gracing her praises above all his other Loves, 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, farre 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 them -you best please to terme him, closing his spangled winges together -againe behinde his backe, fastening also on his Bow and Quiver of -Arrowes, over-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 devout 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 with 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 Elves and Fairies, into the -floury fields about _Elisium_, where Lovers departed out of this life, -walk 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 joy and solace, that, how -long I continued there, or by what meanes I was 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 use -thereof to your service. 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 enjoy, and still are like to do, -by my pardoning your error, and granting the Gods accesse to me in your -shape: which as I envy not, so I wish you heereafter to be wiser, in -taking upon you to judge of beautie. Much other idle folly proceeded -from hir, which still he soothed to her contentment, and (as occasion -served) 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, -behaviour, amorous suters and servants, and generall opinion conceived -of their worth and merit; wherein _Lisetta_ was over-much conceyted -of her selfe, not admitting any other to be her equall. Among other -speeches, favouring of an unseasoned 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 deserve to -bee preferred before any other. As women are ambitious in their owne -opinions, so commonly are they covetous of one anothers secrets, -especially in matter of emulation, whereupon the Gossip thus replyed. -Beleeve 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, priviledges, how great and singular soever they be, -without they are knowen to others, beside such as do particularly enjoy -them; they carrie no more account, then things of ordinary estimation. -Whereas on the contrary, when any Lady or Gentlewoman hath some eminent -and peculiar favour, which few or none other can reach unto, and it is -made famous by generall notion: then do all women elsee admire and honour -her, as the glory of their kinde, and a miracle of Nature. - -I perceive Gossip said _Lisetta_ whereat you ayme, & such is my love -to you, as you should not lose your longing in this case, were I but -constantly secured of your secrecy, which as hitherto I have 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, never to reveale it to any living -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 favourites, men of fraile & -mortall conditions, whose natures are as subject to inconstancy, as -their very best endeavours dedicated to folly, as I could name no mean -number of our Ladies heere in _Venice_. But when Soveraigne deities -shal feele the impression of our humane desires, and behold subjects -of such prevailing 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 Love himselfe, conceived such -an extraordinary liking: as he hath abandoned his seate of supreme -Majesty, and appeared to me in the shape of a mortall man, with lively -expression of his amorous passions, and what extremities of anguish -he hath endured, onely for my love. 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 devotion towards me, hath given 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 (nevertheles) -she avouched with very vehement asseverations; fell instantly sicke of -womens naturall disease, thinking every 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, whom 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 themselves, 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 over-publikely discovered, -purposed to check and reprove _Lisetta_ for her indiscretion. And being -habited according to his former manner, his Friarly Cowle covering -al his former bravery, he left his companion where he used to stay, -and closely walked along unto 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 uncased himselfe, -and appeared like God _Cupid_, with his spangled wings displayed: -they rushed into the Chamber, and he having no other refuge, opened a -large Casement, standing directly over the great gulfe or River, 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. - -Recovering the further side of the River, he espied a light, & the -doore of an house open, wherein dwelt a poore man, whom he earnestly -intreated, to save 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 moved -to compassionate his distressed estate, laid him in his owne bed, -ministring such other comforts to him, as the time and his poverty -did permit; and day drawing on, he went about his businesse, advising -him to take his rest, and it should not be long till he returned. So, -locking the doore, and leaving the counterfeit God in bed, away goes the -poore man to his daily labour. The Brethren to _Lisetta_, perceiving -God _Cupid_ to bee fled and gone, and shee in melancholly sadnesse -sitting by them: they tooke up the Reliques he had left behind him, I -meane the Friars hood and Cowle, which shewing to their sister, and -sharply reproving her unwomanly behaviour: 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 divers crouds of people, and a generall rumor -noysed among them, that God _Cupid_ had beene that night with Madame -_Lisetta_, where being over-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 give him fifty ducates, -if hee would not betray him to _Lisettaes_ brethren. - -Upon the acceptation of this offer, the money being sent for, and paied -downe; there wanted nothing now, but some apt and convenient meanes, -whereby _Albert_ might safely be conveyed 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 advise you. We observe this day as a merry Festivall, & -it is lawfull for any one, to disguise a man in the skin of a Beare, -or in the shape of a savage man, or any other forme of better device. -Which being so done, he is brought upon S. _Marks_ market place, where -being hunted a while with dogs, upon 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 unknown; for it is without all question to the contrary, that the -Gentlewomans brethren, knowing your concealment in some one place or -other, will set such spies and watches for you throughout the City, as -you must needs be taken by them. - -Now, although it seemed a most severe 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 undergo what shape -the poore man pleased, which thus he ordered. Annointing his naked -body with Hony, he then covered it over with downy small Feathers, -and fastning a chaine about his necke, and a strange ugly vizard on -his face; hee gave him a great staffe in the one hand, and two huge -Mastive 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, every 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, whereto he chained his -savage 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 thereby unspeakable anguish. When the poore man saw, that there -needed no more concourse of people; pretending, as if he purposed to -let loose his Salvage 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 Love called _Cupid_, whom Poets feigned long -since to be a little boy, but now growne to manly stature. You see in -what manner he hath left his high dwelling, onely for the comfort of -our _Venetian_ beauties: but belike, the night-fogs over-flagging his -wings, he fell into our gulfe, and comes now to present his service to -you. No sooner had he taken off his vizard, but every 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 thereof -was carried to the Convent, 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 molestation and trouble of -the people; where imprisoning him in their house, severitie 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 evill actions dayly -committed, yet escaping uncredited: there will come a time at length, -for just discovering of all, that the good may shine in their true -luster of glory, and the bad sinke in their owne deserved shame. - - - - -_Three yong Gentlemen affecting three Sisters, fledde with them into_ -Candie. _The eldest of them (through jealousie) becommeth the death of -her Lover: The second, by consenting to the Duke of_ Candies _request, -is the meanes of saving 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 prevaile with their keepers, escaping from thence to_ -Rhodes, _where they died in great poverty._ - -The third Novell. - -_Heerein is declared, how dangerous the occasion is, ensuing by anger -and despight, in such as entirely love, especially, being injuried and -offended by them that they love._ - - -When the King perceived, that Madame _Pampinea_ had ended her -discourse; he sat sadly a prety while, without uttering one word, but -afterward spake thus. Little goodnesse appeared in the beginning of -this Novell, because it ministred occasion of mirth; yet the ending -proved 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 us a better tale, if possible it may be. She smiling, -thus answered the King: Sir, you are over-cruelly bent against poore -Lovers, in desiring, that their amourous processions should have harsh -and sinister concludings. Neverthelesse, in obedience to your severe -command, among three persons amourously perplexed, I will relate an -unhappy ending; whereas all may be saide to speede as unfortunately, -being equally alike, in enjoying the issue of their desires, and thus I -purpose for to proceede. - -Every vice (choise Ladies) as very well you know, redoundeth to the -great disgrace and prejudice, 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 us with full carrere, and draweth -us into unavoidable perils and dangers; in mine opinion, seemeth to -be that of choller or anger, which is nothing elsee, but a sudden and -inconsiderate moving, provoked by some received injury, which having -excluded all respect of reason, and dimde (with darke vapours) the -bright discerning sight of the understanding, enflameth the minde with -most violent furie. And albeit this inconvenience happeneth most to -men, and more to some few, then others; yet notwithstanding, it hath -been noted, that women have 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 have the lesser consideration, -and therefore not to be wondred at. For if we will advisedly observe, -we shall plainely perceive, that fire (even 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 us 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 themselves pleasing and full of content, to -those men with whom we are to live; 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 Novel, how the loves of -three young Gentlemen, and of as many Gentlewomen, came to fatall and -unfortunate successe, by the tempestuous anger of one among them, -according as I have formerly related unto you. - -_Marseilles_ (as you are not now to learne) is in _Provence_, 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 Civada_, 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 loves proceeding with such -secresie, as long time they enjoyed their hearts sweete contentment, -yet undiscovered 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 love, 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 releeve his poverty, by friendly furthering both their -love, 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 invited 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 -us, may render you some certaine assurance, of the constant love 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 travelled, -and now may soone be delivered of, if it may passe with your liking and -approbation. Let me then tell you, that except your speeches savour -of untruth, and your actions carry a double understanding, in common -behaviour both by night and day, you appeare to pine and consume away, -in the cordiall love you beare to two of the Sisters, as I suffer the -same afflictions for the third, with reciprocall requitall of their -dearest affection to us. Now, to qualifie the heate of our tormenting -flames, if you will condescend to such a course as I shall advise you, -the remedy will yeeld them equall ease to ours, and we may safely -enjoy the benefit of contentment. As wealth aboundeth with you both, -so doth want most extremely tyrannize over 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 us, where to -live at hearts ease upon your possessions; I durst engage my credite, -that all the Sisters, (not meanly stored with their Fathers treasure) -shall beare us company to what place soever we please. There each man -freely enjoying his owne dearest love, we may live like three brethren, -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, perceiving some hope how to enjoy their loves; 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 whatsoever, they would joyne with him in this determination, -and 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. Neverthelesse, opportunity proved so favourable to him, -that meeting with her at a private 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 have 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 advise, 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 every thing ready, -to depart from hence so soone, as with best convenient meanes we may be -enabled. - -_Restagnone_ being returned to _Folco_ and _Hugnetto_, who thought -every houre a yeere, to heare what would succeed upon 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. Having 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, under colour of venting Merchandises abroade; they -bought a nimble Pinnace, fortified with good strength and preparation, -and waited but for a convenient wind. On the other side, _Ninetta_, -who was sufficiently acquainted with the forwardnesse of her Sisters -desires and her owne; had so substantially prevailed 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 Jewelse, -wherewith escaping secretly out of the House; they came to the place -where their Lovers 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 arrived at _Geneway_. - -There being out of peril or pursuite, they all knit the knot of holy -wedlocke, and then freely enjoyed 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 provided themselves -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 elsee for their daily recreations, inviting their Neighbours, -and they them againe in loving manner; so that no Lovers could wish to -live 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 observe in -the like occasions, that although delights doe most especially please -us, yet they breed surfet, when they swell too over-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 invited to a Banket, hee saw there a beautifull -Gentle-woman of that Countrey, whose perfections pleasing him beyond -all comparison: hee laboured (by painfull pursuite) to win his purpose; -and meeting with her in divers private places, grew prodigall in his -expences upon her. This could not be so closely carried, but beeing -seene and observed by _Ninetta_, she became possessed with such -extreame jelousie, that hee could not doe any thing whatsoever, but -immediately he had knowledge of it: which fire, growing to a flame in -her, her patience became extreamely provoked, urging rough and rude -speeches from her to him, and daily tormenting him beyond power of -sufferance. - -As the enjoying of anything in too much plenty, makes it appeare -irkesome and loathing to us, and the deniall of our desires, do more -and more whet on the appetite: even so did the angry spleene of -_Ninetta_ proceede on in violence, against this newe commenced love -of _Restagnone_. For in succession of time, whether hee enjoyed the -embracements of his new Mistresse, or no: yet _Ninetta_ (by sinister -reports, but much more through her owne jealous imaginations) held it -for infallible, and to be most certaine. Heereupon, she fell into an -extreame melancholly, which melancholly begat implacable fury, and -(consequently) such contemptible disdaine: as converted her former -kindly love to _Restagnone_, into most cruell and bloudie hatred; yea, -and so strangely was reason or respect confounded in her, as no revenge -elsee but speedy death, might satisfie the wrongs shee imagined to -receive by _Restagnone_ and his Minion. - -Upon enquiry, by what meanes shee might best compasse her bloody -intention, she grew acquainted with a _Græcian_ woman, and wonderfully -expert in the compounding of poysons, whom shee so perswaded, by gifts -and bounteous promises, that at the length shee prevailed 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 -over-heated, and little dreamed on any such Treason conspired against -him by his Wife, she caused him to drinke a great draught thereof, -under pretence, that it was a most soveraigne 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 understood by _Folco, Hugnetto_ and their Wives, 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, never acting disaster so -closely, but as cunningly discovereth it againe: so it came to passe, -that within a few dayes following, the _Græcian_ woman, that had -delivered the poyson to _Ninetta_, for such another deede of damnation, -was apprehended even in the action. And being put upon the tortures, -among many other horrid villanies by her committed, she confessed the -empoysoning of _Restagnone_, and every particle thereto appertaining. -Whereupon, 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, & -upon examination, in maintainance of her desperate revenge; voluntarily -confessed the fact, and what elsee concerned the occasion of his death, -by the wrongs which hee had offered her. - -_Folco_ and _Hugnetto_ understanding 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 endeavour, to worke such meanes with the Duke, -that her life might not perish by fire, although she had most justly -deserved it; but all their attempts prooved to no effect, because the -Duke had concluded to execute justice. - -Heere you are to observe, 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 love and kindnesse, -whereto by no meanes she would listen or give 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 private 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 love. She -apparantly perceiving, that _Ninetta_ was not likely to live, 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 having an excellent -ingenious wit, quicke, and apprehensive in perillous occasions, shee -intended now to make a trial of over-reaching the lascivious 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 delivered out of prison, and in -safety at home in her house: hee should resort thither in some queint -disguise, and enjoy his long expected desire; but untill then she would -not yeeld. So violent was the Duke in the prosecution of his purpose, -that under colour of altering the manner of _Ninettaes_ death, not -suffering her to bee consumed by fire, but to be drowned, according -to a custome observed there long time, and at the importunity of her -Sister _Magdalena_, in the still silence of the night, _Ninetta_ -was conveyed into a sacke, and sent in that manner to the House of -_Folco_, the Duke following soone after, to challenge her promise. - -_Magdalena_, having acquainted her Husband with her vertuous intention, -for preserving 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 adverse to _Restagnone_, onely being -over-ruled likewise by jealousie, and perswaded in his rash opinion, -that the Duke had already dishonoured _Magdalena_, otherwise, he would -not have delivered _Ninetta_ out of prison. Mad fury gave further fire -to this unmanly perswasion, and nothing will now quench this violent -flame, but the life of poore _Magdalena_, suddenly sacrificed in the -rescue of her Sisters, such a divell is anger, when the understandings -bright eye is thereby abused. No credit might be given to her womanly -protestations, nor any thing seeme to alter his bloody purpose; but, -having 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 used these -dissembling speeches. - -Sister (quoth he) my wife hath advised, that I should speedily convey -you hence, as fearing the renewing of the Dukes fury, and your falling -againe into the hands of Justice: I have 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 service; departed thence presently with him, not taking -any farewell of her other Sister and her Husband. To the Sea-shore they -came, very weakely provided of monies to defray their charges, and -getting aboard the Barke, directed their course themselves knew not -whether. - -The amourous Duke in his disguise, having long daunced attendance at -_Folcoes_ doore, and no admittance of his entrance; angerly returned -backe to his Court, protesting severe revenge on _Magdalena_, if -she gave 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 love 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 -unwelcome; and although they were truly innocent, either in knowledge -of the horrid fact, or the departure of _Folco_ with _Ninetta_: yet -being unable to endure the tortures extremity, they made themselves -culpable by confession, and that they had hand with _Folco_ in the -murder of _Magdalena_. Upon 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 serve when any urgent -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 lived afterward in great distresse -and misery. The just vengeance of Heaven 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 driven backe on the Coast of _Candie_ againe, -where being apprehended, and brought to the City before the Duke, they -confessed their severall notorious offences, and ended their loathed -lives in one fire together. - -Thus the idle and loose love of _Restagnone_, with the franticke rage -and jealousie of _Ninetta_ and _Folco_, overturned 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 Novell. - -_In commendation of Justice betweene Princes; and declaring withal, -that neither feare, dangers, nor death it selfe; can any way daunt a -true and loyall Lover._ - - -Madam _Lauretta_ having concluded her Novel, and the company -complaining on Lovers misfortunes, some blaming the angry and jealous -fury of _Ninetta_, and every one delivering their severall opinions; -the King, as awaking out of a passionate perplexity, exalted his -lookes, giving a signe to Madam _Elisa_, that shee should follow next -in order, whereto she obeying, began in this manner. I have heard -(Gracious Ladies, quoth she) of many people, who are verily perswaded, -that Loves arrowes, never wound any body, but onely by the eyes lookes -and gazes, mocking and scorning such as maintaine that men may fall in -love by hearing onely. Wherein (beleeve me) they are greatly deceived, -as will appeare by a Novell which I must now relate unto you, and -wherein you shall plainely perceive, that not onely fame or report is -as prevailing as sight; but also hath conducted divers, to a wretched -and miserable ending of their lives. - -_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, leaving a sonne behind him, -named _Gerbino_, who, with much care and cost, was brought up by his -Grand-father, proving 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, deserving most to be respected, the renowned vertues, -and affability of this gallant Prince _Gerbino_, was understood 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 ever 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 deservings, won such -honourable entertainment in her understanding soule, that they were -most affectionately pleasing to her, and in capitulating (over and over -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 advancement. - -On the other side, the fame of her incomparable beauty, with addition -of her other infinite singularities beside; as the World had given -eare 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 understanding: that -he was no lesse enflamed with noble affection towards her, then she -expressed the like in vertuous opinion of him. Wherefore, awaiting -such convenient opportunity, when he might entreate license of his -Grandfather, for his owne going to _Thunis_, under colour of some -honourable occasion, for the earnest desire hee had to see her: he -gave charge to some of his especiall friends (whose affaires required -their presence in those parts) to let the Princesse understand, in such -secret manner as best they could devise, what noble affection he bare -unto her, devoting himselfe onely to her service. - -One of his chosen friends thus put in trust, being a Jeweller, a man -of singular discretion, and often resorting to Ladies for sight of his -Jewelles, winning like admittance to the Princesse: related at large -unto her, the honourable affection of _Gerbino_, with full tender of -his person to her service, 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 selfsame affection towards him; as a testimony -thereof, one of the very choisest Jewelse which she bought of him, shee -sent by him to the Prince _Gerbino_, it being received by him with such -joy and contentment, as nothing in the world could be more pleasing to -him. So that afterward, by the trusty carriage of this Jeweller, many -Letters and Love-tokens passed betweene them, each being as highly -pleased with this poore, yet happy kinde of entercourse, as if they had -seene & conversed with one another. - -Matters proceeding on in this manner, and continuing longer then their -love-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, perceyving, that not onely she should -be sent further off, by a large distance of way from her friend, but -also bee deprived utterly, of all hope ever to enjoy him. And if she -could have devised any meanes, either by secret flight from her Father, -or any way else to further her intention, she would have adventured it -for the Princes sake. _Gerbino_ in like manner hearing of this purposed -mariage, lived in a hell 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 private stealing her away from her -Fathers Court before: with these and infinite other thoughts, was he -incessantly afflicted, both day and night. - -By some unhappy accident or other, the King of _Thunis_ heard of this -their secret love, 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 convey his daughter thence to her marriage, and -fearing to be prevented by _Gerbino_: he sent to the King of _Sicily_, -to let him understand his determination, craving safe conduct from -him, without impeachment of _Gerbino_, or any one elsee, untill such -time as his intent was accomplished. King _Gulielmo_ being aged, and -never acquainted with the affectionat proceedings of _Gerbino_, nor any -doubtfull reason to urge this securitie from him, in a case convenient -to be granted: yeelded the sooner thereto right willingly, and as a -signale of his honourable meaning, he sent him his royall Glove, with a -full confirmation for his safe conduct. - -No sooner were these Princely assurances received, 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_, waiting for nothing elsee but best favouring windes. The yong -Princesse, who understood and saw all this great preparation; secretly -sent a servant of hers to _Palermo_, giving 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 gave 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 conceyved 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_, having heard this message from his divine -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 urgent necessitie, what -might best bee done. Notwithstanding, moved by the setled constancie of -his plighted Love, and the speeches delivered to him by the messenger -from the Princesse: to shew himselfe a man endued with courage, he -departed thence unto _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 -deceived: for, within few dayes after, the Ship (not over-swiftly -winded) came sailing neere to the place where they attended for her -arrivall; 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 have beene -reputed, I am perswaded, that there are some among you, who either -formerly have, or now instantly do feele, the all-commanding power of -Love, without which (as I thinke) there is not any mortall man, that -can have any goodnesse or vertue dwelling in him. Wherefore, if ever -you have bene amorously affected, or presently have any apprehension -thereof, you shall the more easily judge of what I now aime at. True -it is, that I do love, and love hath guided me to be comforted, and -manfully assisted by you, because in yonder Ship, which you see commeth -on so gently under saile (even as if she offered her selfe to be our -prize) not onely is the Jewell which I most esteeme, but also mighty -and unvalewable treasure, to be wonne without any difficult labour, or -hazard of a dangerous fight, you being men of such undauntable courage. -In the honour of which victory, I covet not any part or parcell, but -onely a Ladie, for whose sake I have undertaken these Armes, and freely -give you all the rest contained in the shippe. Let us set on them, -Gentlemen, and my dearest friends; couragiously let us assaile the -ship, you see how the wind favours us, and (questionlesse) in so good an -action, Fortune will not faile us. - -_Gerbino_ needed not to have 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, giving -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 upon the ship. But before the -Gallies could come neere her, they that had the charge and managing of -her, perceyving with what speede they made towards them, and no likely -meanes of escaping from them, resolvedly they stood uppon 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 adventure the fight. When -the Sarazines were thereof advertised, and understood 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 molested or assailed. In testimony whereof, -they shewed his Glove, avouching moreover, that neyther by force (or -otherwise) they would yeelde, or deliver 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 Glove. Wee have (quoth he) no Faulcon heere -now, to be humbled at the sight of your Glove: and therefore, if you -will not deliver the Lady, prepare your selves for fight, for we must -have 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_ perceyving, that -small benefite would redound to him, if he did not undertake some -other kinde of course: he tooke a small Pinnace, which purposely he -brought with him from _Sardignia_, and setting it on a flaming fire, -conveyd it (by the Gallies help) close to the ship. The Sarazines much -amazed thereat, and evidently perceiving, that eyther they must yeeld -or dy; brought their Kings daughter upon the prow of the ship, most -greevously 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 give her to thee, according to our bounden duty, and as thy perjury -hath justly deserved. - -This sight was not a little greevous to the Prince _Gerbino_, who -madded now with this their monstrous cruelty, and not caring what -became of his owne life, having lost her for whom hee onely desired -to live: not dreading their Darts, Arrowes, slinged stones, or what -violence else they could use against him; he leapt aboord their ship, in -despight of all that durst resist him, behaving himself there like a -hunger-starved 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 life 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 save, and suffering the Sea to swallow -the rest, _Gerbino_ returned unto his Gallies againe, nothing proud of -this so ill-gotten victory. - -Afterward, having recovered 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 _Ustica_, 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 injury, seeing no way whereby to deny him justice, it being urged -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 divert him by their earnest -importunity) pronounced the sentence of death on the Prince, and -commanded to have him beheaded in his presence; affecting rather, to -dye without an heire, then to be thought a King void of justice. So -these two unfortunate Lovers, never enjoying the very least benefite of -their long wished desires: ended both their lives in violent manner. - - - - -_The three Brethren to_ Isabella, _slew a Gentleman that secretly loved -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 usually set in; she watered it (a long while) -with her teares. Whereof her Brethren having intelligence; soone after -she dyed, with meere conceite of sorrow._ - -The fift Novell. - -_Wherein is plainly proved, that Love cannot be rooted uppe, by any -humane power or providence; especially in such a soule, where it hath -bene really apprehended._ - - -The Novell of Madame _Eliza_ being finished, and some-what commended -by the King, in regard of the Tragicall conclusion; _Philomena_ was -enjoyned to proceede next with her discourse. She beeing overcome -with much compassion, for the hard Fortunes of Noble _Gerbino_, and -his beautifull Princesse, after an extreame 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_ gave you -relation: yet (peradventure) it may proove to be no lesse pitifull. -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, lived in very good fame and repute. Their Father was -of _San Gemignano_, and they had a Sister named _Isabella_, young, -beautifull, and well conditioned; who, upon some occasion, as yet -remained unmaried. A proper youth, being a Gentleman borne in _Pisa_, -and named _Lorenzo_, as a trusty factor or servant, had the managing of -the Brethrens businesse and affaires. This _Lorenzo_ being of comely -personage, affable, and excellent in his behaviour, grew so gracious in -the eyes of _Isabella_, that shee affoorded him many very respective -lookes, yea, kindnesses of no common quality. Which _Lorenzo_ taking -notice of, and observing by degrees from time to time, gave over all -other beauties in the Citie, which might allure any affection from him, -and only fixed his heart on her, so that their love grew to a mutuall -embracing, both equally respecting one another, and entertaining -kindnesses, as occasion gave leave. - -Long time continued this amorous league of love, yet not so cunningly -concealed, but at the length, the secret meeting of _Lorenzo_ and -_Isabella_, to ease their poore soules of Loves oppressions, was -discovered by the eldest of the Brethren, unknowne to them who were -thus betrayed. He being a man of great discretion, although 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 urgent 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 evill acte -being (as yet) committed. And seeming, as if they knew not of their -love, had a wary eye still upon her secret walkes, awaiting for some -convenient time, when without their owne prejudice, or _Isabellaes_ -knowledge, they might safely breake off this their stolne love, which -was altogether against their liking. So, shewing no worse countenance -to _Lorenzo_, then formerly they had done, but imploying and conversing -with him in kinde manner; it fortuned, that riding (all three) to -recreate themselves 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 upon _Lorenzo_, slew -him, & afterward enterred his body, where hardly it could be discovered -by any one. Then they returned backe to _Messina_, & gave it forth (as -a credible report) that they had sent him abroad about their affaires, -as formerly they were wont to do: which every one verily beleeved, -because they knew no reason why they should conceite any otherwise. - -_Isabella_, living in expectation of his returne, and perceiving his -stay to her was so offensively 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 urgent affaires have you with him, that makes you so -impatient upon 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 -overthrow 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, shee checkt and reproved him for his so long absence. One night -amongst the rest, she being growen almost hopelesse, of ever seeing him -againe, having a long while wept and greevously lamented; her senses -and faculties utterly spent and tired, that she could not utter any -more complaints, she fell into a trance or sleepe; and dreamed, that -the ghost of _Lorenzo_ appeared unto her, in torne and unbefitting -garments, his lookes pale, meager, and staring: and (as she thought) -thus spake to her. My deare love _Isabella_, thou doest nothing but -torment thy selfe, with calling on me, accusing me for overlong -tarrying from thee: I am come therefore to let thee know, that thou -canst not enjoy 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 giving 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. Having obtained favour of her brethren, to ride a -dayes journey 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 love: they rode directly to the designed place, which being -covered with some store of dried leaves, and more deeply sunke then any -other part of the ground thereabout, they digged not farre, but they -found the body of murthered _Lorenzo_, as yet very little corrupted or -impaired, and then perceived the truth of her vision. - -Wisedome and government so much prevailed 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 have 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 have all, yet she would be -possessed of a part, & having brought a keene razor with her, by helpe -of the Nurse, shee divided the head from the body, and wrapped it up -in a Napkin, which the nurse conveyed into her lap, and then laide the -body in the ground again. Thus being undiscovered by any, they departed -thence, and arrived at home in convenient time, where being alone by -themselves in the Chamber: she washed the head over and over with her -teares, and bestowed infinite kisses thereon. - -Not long after, the Nurse having brought her a large earthen potte, -such as wee use to set Basile, Marjerom, Flowers, or other sweet -hearbes in, and shrouding the head in a silken Scarfe, put it into the -pot, covering it with earth, and planting divers rootes of excellent -Basile therein, which she never watered, but either with her teares, -Rose water, or water distilled from the Flowers of Oranges. This pot -she used continually to sitte by, either in her chamber, or any where -elsee: for she caried it alwaies with her, sighing and breathing foorth -sad complaints thereto, even as if they had beene uttered to her -_Lorenzo_, and day by day this was her continuall exercise, to the no -meane admiration of her bretheren, 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 savour. The neighbours noting this behaviour -in her, observing 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 understand the reason -of her so violent oppressions; but could not by any meanes prevaile -with her, or win any discovery by her Nurse, so faithfull was she in -secrecie to her. Her brethren also waxed wearie of this carriage in -her; and having very often reproved 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 have it restored againe, avouching that shee -could not live without it. - -Perceiving that she could not have the pot againe, she fell into an -extreame sicknesse, occasioned onely by her ceaselesse weeping: and -never urged she to have any thing, but the restoring of her Basile pot. -Her brethren grew greatly amazed thereat, because shee never called for -ought elsee beside; and thereupon were very desirous to ransacke the pot -to the very bottome. Having 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 unable to give over -mourning, dyed within a few dayes after. Thus have you heard the hard -fate 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 unkinde 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 resisting him vertuously: it came to the understanding of her -Father, who approved the innocence of his daughter, and compassed her -deliverance. But she afterward, being weary of all worldly felicities, -entred into Religion, and became a Nun._ - -The sixth Novell. - -_Describing the admirable accidents of Fortune; and the mighty -prevailing power of Love._ - - -The Novell which Madam _Philomena_ had so graciously related, was -highly pleasing unto the other Ladies; because they had oftentimes -heard the Song, without knowing who made it, or uppon 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 Novell, doth minister matter -to me, to make report of another Tale, wherein mention is made of two -severall dreames; which divined 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 unknowne to you, that it is, & -hath bene a generall passion, to all men and women living, to see -divers and sundry things while they are sleeping. And although (to -the sleeper) they seeme most certaine, so that when he awaketh, hee -judgeth the trueth of some, the likelyhood of others, and some beyond -all possibility of truth: yet notwithstanding, many dreames have bene -observed to happen, and very strangely have come to passe. And this -hath bene a grounded reason for some men, to give as great credit to -such things as they see sleeping, as they do to others usually waking. -So that, according unto their dreames, and as they make construction of -them, that are sadly distasted, or merrily pleased, even as (by them) -they either feare or hope. On the contrary, there are some, who will not -credit any dreame whatsoever, untill they be falne into the very same -danger which formerly they saw, and most evidently 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 prove not all to be true, we can best testifie -to our selves. And that they are not alwayes lyars, hath already -sufficiently bene manifested, by the discourse of Madame _Philomena_, -and as you shall perceive 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 favourable to us, and our visions flatter us with -prosperous successe: yet let us give no credence unto the best, nor -addicte our minds to them of contrary Nature. And now we will proceed -to our Novell. - -In the Citie of _Brescia_, there lived sometime a Gentleman, named -_Messer Negro da Ponte Cararo_, who (among many other children) -had a daughter called _Andreana_, yong and beautifull, but as yet -unmarried. It fortuned, that shee fell in love with a neighbour, named -_Gabriello_, a comely yong Gentleman, of affable complexion, and -graciously conditioned. Which love 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 used in marriage, -they maried themselves 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 -lovingly together, she seemed to see a thing blacke and terrible, which -sodainely issued forth of his body, but the shape thereof she could -not comprehend. It rudely seized upon _Gabriello_, & in despight of -her utmost strength (with incredible force) snatched him out of her -armes, and sinking with him into the earth, they never after did see -one another; whereuppon, overcome with extremity of greefe and sorrow, -presently shee awaked, being then not a little joyfull, 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 middst of the Garden. - -After some small familiar discourse passing betweene them, _Gabriello_ -demanded of her upon what occasion shee denied his comming thither the -night before, and by such a sodaine unexpected admonition? _Andreana_ -told him, that it was in regard of a troublesome dreame, wherewith 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 give any credit to idle -dreames: because (oftentimes) they are caused by excesse of feeding, -and continually are observed to be meere lies. For (quoth hee) if I -had any superstitious beleefe of dreames, I should not then have 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 loveliest and most pleasing beast that was ever -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 us (but whence, or how I could not imagine) seeming -halfe hunger-starved, and very ugly to look upon. 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 upon -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 -frivolous and idle search. What can be said then in these or the like -cases? Divers times I have had as ill seeming dreames, yea, and much -more to be feared: yet never any thing hurtfull to me followed thereon; -and therefore I have 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 give him no occasion of distast, she bare it -out in the best manner she could devise 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 upon his face, and throwing strange -lookes to all parts of the Garden, to catch hold on any such blacke -ugly 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 Love, or elsee I dye; and, -in speaking the words, fell downe uppon the ground. Which the yong -Damosell perceiving, 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 gave up the -ghost. How greevous this strange accident was to poore _Andreana_, -who loved him as deerely as her owne life: you that have felt loves -tormenting afflictions, can more easily conceive, then I relate. -Wringing her hands, & weeping incessantly, calling him, rubbing his -temples, and using all likely meanes to reduce life: she found all -her labour to be spent in vain, because he was starke dead indeed, -and every 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 sorrow. After they -had sighed and mourned awhile, over the dead body of _Gabriello, -Andreana_ in this manner spake to her maid. - -Seeing Fortune hath thus bereft me of my Love, mine owne life must -needs be hatefull to me: but before I offer any violence to my selfe, -let us devise some convenient meanes, as may both preserve mine honour -from any touch or scandall, and conceale the secret love passing -betweene us: 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, never talke of doing any violence -to your self, because by such a blacke and dismall deed, as you have -lost his kind company here in this life, so shall you never 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 fervent 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 never he hath bene seene by any, or his resorting hither -knowne, but onely to our selves. If you will not consent to have it so, -let you and I convey his bodye hence, and leave 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 give it honest buriall. - -_Andreana_, although her soule was extraordinarily sorrowfull, & teares -flowed abundantly from her eyes; yet she listned attentively to hir -maids counsell; allowing her first advice against desperation, to be -truly good; but to the rest thus she replied. God forbid (quoth she) -that I shold suffer so deare a loving friend, as he hath alwayes shewed -himselfe to mee; nay, which is much more, my husband; by sacred and -solemn vowes passed betweene us, to be put into the ground basely, and -like a dog, or elsee to be left in the open streete. He hath had the -sacrifice of my virgin teares, and if I can prevaile, he shall have -some of his kindred, as I have instantly devised, what (in this hard -case) is best to be done. Forthwith she sent the maid to her Chamber, -for divers elles of white Damaske lying in her Chest, which when she -had brought, they spread it abroad on the grasse, even in the manner of -a winding sheete, and therein wrapped the bodie of _Gabriello_, with -a faire wrought pillow lying under his head, having first (with their -teares) closed his mouth and eyes, and placed a Chaplet of Flowers on -his head, covering the whole shrowd over 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 -us two) he may be easily carried, even in this manner as we have -adorned him; where leaving 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 uttered 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 loving husband, if thy soule can see -my teares, or any understanding do remaine in thy body, being thus -untimely taken from me: receive the latest guifte thou gavest me, as a -pledge of our solemne and spotlesse marriage. So, making up the shroud -againe as it should be, and conveighing 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 availe me: -wherefore, I am ready to go along with you before the Seigneurie, and -there will 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 Objections. - -When notice heereof was given 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 divers Physitians, to be informed by them, whether the Gentleman -were poysoned, or otherwise murthered: but al of them affirmed the -contrary, avouching rather, that some impostumation had engendred neere -his heart, which sodainly breaking, occasioned his as sodaine death. -The Potestate hearing this, and perceiving 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, provoking -him to the immodest motion, that upon 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 reprooving him with many injurious speeches, such as -a lustfull Letcher justlie deserved. - -On the morrow morning, these newes being brought to her Father, _Messer -Negro da Ponte Cararo_; greeving thereat exceedingly, and accompanied -with many of his friends, he went to the Palace. Being there arrived, -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 -prove her, he had made such a motion to her, but finding her so firmly -vertuous, his love 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 have both seene and knowne them: rather most -humblie, I crave your pardon, for another error by me committed, in -that, both without your leave and liking, I accepted the man as my -troth-plighted husband, whom (above 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 favour; 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, observing what his daughter had saide: could not -refraine from teares, and in his weeping, lovingly tooke her from the -ground, speaking thus to her. - -Daughter, I could have wished, that thou hadst taken such an husband, -as (in my judgement) had bene best fitting for thee, and yet if thou -didst make election of one, answerable to thine owne good opinion & -liking: I have no just reason to be therewith offended. My greatest -cause of complaint, is, thy too severe concealing it from me, and the -slender trust thou didst repose in me, because thou hast lost him, -before I knew him. Neverthelesse, 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 have contented thee, -by making him my Sonne in Law, if he had lived; so I will expresse -the like love to him now he is dead. And so turning himself to his -kindred and friends, lovingly requested of them, that they would grace -_Gabriello_ with most honourable obsequies. - -By this time, the kindred and friends to the dead man (uppon noise of -his death bruited abroad) were likewise come to the Pallace, yea, most -of the men and women dwelling in the City, the bodie of _Gabriello_ -beeing laide in the midst of the Court, upon the white Damaske shrowde -given by _Andreana_, with infinite Roses and other sweet Flowers -lying thereon: and such was the peoples love to him, that never was -any mans death, more to be bemoaned and lamented. Being delivered -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 honour and -reverence. - -Within some few dayes after, the Potestate pursuing his former motion -of marriage, and the Father moving it to his daughter; she wold not -by any meanes listen thereto. And he being desirous to give her -contentment, delivered her and her Chamber-maid into a Religious Abbey, -very famous for devotion and sanctity, where afterwardes they ended -their lives. - - - - -_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 Justice, and charged with the death of_ -Pasquino: _she rubbed her teeth likewise with one of the leaves of the -same Sage, as declaring what shee saw him do: and thereon she dyed also -in the same manner._ - -The seaventh Novell. - -_Whereby is given to understand, that Love & Death do use their power -equally alike, as well upon poore and meane persons, as on them that -are rich and Noble._ - - -_Pamphilus_ having ended his Tale, the King declaring an outward shew -of compassion, in regard of _Andreanaes_ disastrous Fortune: fixed -his eye on Madam _Emillia_, and gave her such an apparant signe, as -expressed his pleasure, for her next succeeding in discourse; which -being sufficient for her understanding, thus she began: Faire assembly, -the Novel so lately delivered 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 lover in a Garden, -even so did shee of whome I am now to speake. And being brought before -the seate of Justice, 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 Love is -such (according as wee have 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 unto you, -either in all, or a great part of my Novell, whereto our Citie pleadeth -some title; though, by the diversity of our discourses, talking of so -many severall accidents; we have 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 lived 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 travell, & 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 dejected a spirit, but had both courage and sufficient vertue, -to understand the secret solicitings of love, and to distinguish -the parts of well deserving, both by private behaviour and outward -ceremony. As naturall instinct was her first tutor thereto, so wanted -she not a second maine and urging 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 behaviour, and gracefull -actions (in bringing her daily wooll to spin, by reason his master was -a Clothier) prevailed upon her liking and affection. - -Nor was he negligent in the observation of her amorous regards, but the -Tinder tooke, and his soule flamed with the selfe-same fire; making him -as desirous of her loving acceptance, as possibly she could bee of his: -so that the commanding power of love, could not easily be distinguished -in which of them it had the greater predominance. For, everie 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 conceyved of him, and earnest desire to enjoy him. -_Pasquino_ on the other side, as leysure gave him leave for the least -conversing with her: his disease was every way answerable to her, for -teares stood in his eyes, sighes flew abroad, to ease the poore hearts -afflicting oppressions, which though he was unable to conceale; yet -would hee seeme to clowd them cleanly, by entreating her that his -masters worke might be neatly 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 received -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, & over-much bashfulnesse became abandoned, yet no immodestie -passing betweene them: but affection grew the better setled in them -both, by interchangeable vowes of constant perseverance, so that death -onely, but no disaster elsee had power to divide them. Their mutuall -delight continuing on in this manner, with more forcible encreasing -of their Loves 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 converse -together, without the suspition of envious eyes. _Simonida_ gave answer -of her well-liking the motion, and acquainting her Father therewith, he -gave her leave, on the Sunday following after dinner, to go serch 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 usually tearmed _Strambo_) a secret -well-willer to _Lagina_, whose love became the more furthered by this -friendly meeting. Each Lover delighting in his hearts chosen Mistresse, -caused them to walke alone by themselves, as the spaciousnesse of the -Garden gave 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 themselves; 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 invite 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 over-spred with foule black spots, both on his face, handes, -and all parts elsee 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 uppon them, and -seeing _Pasquino_ lying dead, and hugely swoln, _Strambo_ likewise -complaining, and accusing _Simonida_ to have poysoned him; shee making -no answer, but standing in a gastly amazement, all her senses meerely -confounded, at such a strange and uncouth accident, in loosing him -whome she so dearely loved: knew not how to excuse her selfe, and -therefore every one verily beleeved, that _Strambo_ had not unjustly -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 justified by _Strambo, Lagina,_ and two men -more; the one named _Atticciato_, and the other _Malagevole_, fellowes -and companions with _Pasquino_, who came into the Garden also upon the -out-cry. - -The Judge, without any delay at all, gave 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 presence of _Simonida_, -hee desired to see the dead body, and the place where he fell downe -dead, because there he intended to have 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 avoid the -following of the turbulent multitude: they departed from the bench of -Justice, and came to the place, where _Pasquinoes_ body lay swolne like -a Tunne. Demanding there questions, concerning his behaviour, when they -walked there in conference together, and, not a little admiring the -manner of his death, while hee stood advisedly considering thereon. - -She going to the bed of Sage, reporting the whole precedent history, -even from the original to the ending: the better to make the case -understood, without the least colour of ill carriage towardes -_Pasquino_; according as she had seene him do, even 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_, having noted in what manner she used the Sage, and this -appearing as her utmost refuge, either to acquit or condemne her: -in presence of the Judge they smiled thereat, mocking and deriding -whatsoever 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 just punishment for her abhominable transgression. - -Poore _Simonida_, sighing and sorrowing for her deere loves losse, and -(perhappes) not meanly terrified, with the strict infliction of torment -so severely urged 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, even by the like accident as -_Pasquino_ formerly did, to the admirable astonishment of all there -present. - -Oh poore infortunate Lovers, whose Starres were so inauspicious to -you, as to finish both your mortall lives, and fervent love, in lesse -limitation then a dayes space. How to censure of your deaths, and -happines to ensue thereon, by an accident so straunge and inevitable: -it is not within the compasse of my power, but to hope the best, and -so I leave you. But yet concerning _Simonida_ her selfe, in the common -opinion of us that remaine living: her true vertue and innocency -(though Fortune was other wise most cruell to her) would not suffer -her to sinke under the testimony of _Strambo, Lagina, Atticciato_ -and _Malagevole_, 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 Judge standing amazed, and all there present in his companie, were -silent for a long while together: but, uppon better re-collection of -his spirits, thus he spake. This inconvenience which thus hath hapned, -and confounded our senses with no common admiration; in mine opinion -concerneth the bed of Sage, avouching it either to bee venomous, or -dangerously infected; which (neverthelesse) is seldom found in Sage. -But to the end, that it may not be offensive to any more heereafter, I -will have it wholly digd up by the rootes, and then to bee burnt in the -open Market place. - -Hereupon, the Gardiner was presently sent for, and before the Judge -would depart thence, he saw the bed of Sage digged up by the roots, -and found the true occasion, whereby these two poore Lovers lost their -lives. For, just in the middest of the bed, and at the maine roote, -which directed all the Sage in growth; lay an huge mighty Toad, even -weltring (as it were) in a hole full of poyson; by meanes whereof, in -conjecture of the Judge, and all the rest, the whole bed of Sage became -envenomed, occasioning every leafe thereof to be deadly in taste. None -being so hardie, as to approach neere the Toade, they made a pile -of wood directly over it, and setting it on a flaming fire, threw -all the Sage thereinto, 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 _Malagevole_, were buried together in one goodlie Monument, for a -future memory of their hard Fortune. - - - - -Jeronimo _affecting a yong Maiden, named_ Silvestra: _was constrained -(by the earnest importunity of his Mother) to take a journey to_ Paris. -_At his return home from thence againe, hee found his love_ Silvestra -_married. By secret meanes, he got entrance into her house, and dyed -upon the bed lying by her. Afterward, his body being carried to Church, -to receive buriall, she likewise died there instantly upon his coarse._ - -The eight Novell. - -_Wherein is againe declared, the great indiscretion and folly of them, -that think to constraine love, according to their will, after it is -constantly setled before: With other instructions, concerning the -unspeakeable power of Love._ - - -Madam _Emillia_ had no sooner concluded her Novell, 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 themselves to know more, then all other elsee 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 understanding, against infallible grounded reason, yea, and -to attempt courses, not only contrary to the counsell and judgment of -men, but also to crosse the nature of divine ordination. Out of which -fancy & ambitious presumption, many mighty harmes have already had -beginning, and more are like to ensue uppon such boldnesse, because it -is the ground of all evils. - -Now, in regard that among all other naturall things, no one is lesse -subject to take counsell, or can bee wrought to contrariety, then -Love, whose nature is such, as rather to run upon his owne rash -consumption, then to be ruled by admonitions of the very wisest: my -memory hath inspired itself, with matter incident to this purpose, -effectually to approve, what I have already said. For I am now to -speake of a woman, who would appeare to have more wit, then either -she had indeed, or appertained to her by any title. The matter also, -wherein she would needs shew hir studious judgement and capacity, was -of much more consequence then she could deserve to meddle withall. Yet -such was the issue of her fond presuming; that (in one instant) she -expelled both love, and the soule of her owne sonne out of his body, -where (doubtlesse) it was planted by divine favour 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 _Jeronimo_, and within a -short while after his birth, _Leonardo_ being very sicke, and having -setled al his affaires in good order; departed out of this wretched -life to a better. The Tutors and Governours of the Childe, thought -it fittest to let him live with his Mother, where he had his whole -education, though schooled among many other worthy neighbours children, -according as in most Cities they use to do. Yong _Jeronimo_ 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 neighbours -children, and much prety pastime they found together. - -In the harmlesse recreations of youth, graver judgements have often -observed, that some especiall matter received then such original, -as greater effect hath followed thereon. And many times, parents -and kindred have 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 -divers other such like kind tearmes, prooving afterwards to be true -indeede. It fell out so with our yong _Jeronimo_; for, among a number -of pretty Damoselse, daughters to men of especiall respect, and others -of farre inferiour qualitie: a Taylors daughter, excelling the rest -in favour and feature (albeit her Father was but poore) _Jeronimo_ -most delighted to sport withall; and no other titles passed betweene -them, even 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 conversing together, and enterchange of infinite pretty speeches: -_Jeronimo_ felt a strange alteration in his soule, with such enforcing -and powerfull afflictions; as he was never well but in her company, nor -she enjoyed any rest if _Jeronimo_ were absent. At the length, this -being noted by his Mother, she beganne to rebuke him, yea, many times -gave him both threatnings and blowes, which proving 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 upon a -blacke thorne, spake as followeth. - -This Sonne of mine _Jeronimo_, being as yet but fourteene years of age, -is so deeply enamored of a yong Girle, named _Silvestra_, daughter unto -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 us -procure her marriage to some other. Wherefore, I hold it good, that -to avoid so great an inconvenience, we shold send _Jeronimo_ 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 -utterly disappointed; his affection to her will the sooner ceasse, by -frustrating his hope for ever enjoying her, and so we shall have the -better meanes, to match him with one of greater quality. The Tutors -did like well of her advice, not doubting but it would take answerable -effect: and therefore, calling _Jeronimo_ into a private Parlour, one of -them began in this manner. - -_Jeronimo_, you are now growne to an indifferent stature, and (almost) -able to take government of your selfe. It cannot then seeme any way -inconvenient, 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 evermore remembred) and travaile would now seeme fitting -for you, as well to gaine experience in Traffick and Merchandize, as -also to let you see the worlds occurrences. Your Mother therefore (and -we) have thought it expedient, that you should journey from hence to -_Paris_, there to continue for some such fitting time, as may grant -you full and free opportunity, to survey what stocke of wealth is -there employed for you, and to make you understand, 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 civill -courses of life; rather then by continuing here to see none but Lords, -Barons, and Gentlemen, whereof wee have too great a number. When you -are sufficiently qualified there, and have 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 gave them attentive hearing, and (in few words) returned -them answer: That he would not give way to any such travaile, 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 -reproved him with many severe 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 journey -to _Paris_, as in regard of his violent affection to the Maide; gave -him very bitter and harsh language. All which availing nothing, she -began to speake in a more milde and gentle straine, entreating him -with flattering and affable words, to be governed in this case by -his Tutors good advise. And so farre (in the end) she prevailed with -him, that he yeelded to live at _Paris_ for the space of a yeare; but -further time he would not graunt, and so all was ended. - -_Jeronimo_ being gone to remain at _Paris_, his love daily increasing -more and more, by reason of his absence from _Silvestra_, under 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 love 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 love _Silvestra_, by the cunning compacting of -his Mother and Tutors, he found married to a Tent-makers Sonne; whereat -hee vexed and greeved beyond all measure. Neverthelesse, seeing the -case was now no way to bee holpen; hee strove to beare it with so much -patience, as so great a wrong, and his hearts tormenting greefe, would -give him leave to doe. - -Having found out the place where she dwelt, hee began (as it is the -custome of yong Lovers) to use divers 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 never seene him before. Or if she did any -way remember him, it appeared to be so little, that manifest signes -declared the contrary. Which _Jeronimo_ very quickely perceived, -albeit not without many melanchollie perturbations. Notwithstanding, -he laboured by all possible meanes, to recover her former kindnesse -againe: but finding all his paines frivouslie employed; he resolved 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 every part of the house, & -prevailed so far, that one evening, when she and her husband supt at -a neighbours house; he compassed accesse into the same bed chamber, -where _Silvestra_ used most to lodge. Finding the Curtaines ready -drawne, he hid himselfe behinde them on the further side of the bed, -and so tarried there untill _Silvestra_ and her husband were returned -home, and laide downe in bedde to take their rest. The husbands sences -were soone overcome with sleepe, by reason of his painefull toyling -all the day, and bodies that are exercised with much labour, are the -more desirous to have ease. She staying up last, to put out the light, -and hearing her husband sleepe so soundly, that his snoring gave good -evidence thereof: layed her selfe down the more respectively, as being -very loath any way to disease him, but sweetly to let him enjoy his -rest. - -_Silvestra_ lay on the same side of the bed, where _Jeronimo_ had hid -himselfe behinde the Curtaines; who stepping softly to her in the -darke, and laying his hand gently on her brest, saide: Deare Love, -forbeare a little while to sleepe, for heere is thy loyall friend -_Jeronimo_. The yong woman starting with amazement, would have 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 leave of -her. Alas _Jeronimo_ (quoth she) those idle dayes are past and gone, -when it was no way unseemly for our youth, to entertaine equality of -those desires, which then well agreed with our young blood. Since when, -you have lived 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 never heard the -least salutation from you. Now you know me to be a married wife, in -regard whereof, my thoughts have embraced that chaste and honourable -resolution, not to minde any man but my husband; and therefore, as -you are come hither without my love or license, so in like manner I -do desire you to be gone. Let this priviledge of my Husbandes sound -sleeping, be no colour to your longer continuing heere, or encourage -you to finde any further favour 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 have -both mutually embraced. - -The yong man, hearing these wordes, and remembring what loving -kindnesse he had formerly found, what secret love Letters hee had sent -from _Paris_, with other private intelligences and tokens, which never -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 upon the beds side by her, uttered these his very -last words. _Silvestra_ farewell, thou hast kilde the kindest heart -that ever loved a woman: and speaking no more, gave up the ghost. She -hearing these words delivered with an entire sighe, and deepe-fetcht -groane: did not imagine the strange consequence following thereon; -yet was mooved to much compassion, in regard of her former affection -to him. Silent shee lay an indifferent while, as being unable to -returne him any answer; and looking when he would be gone, according -as before she had earnestly entreated him. But when she perceyved him -to lye so still, as neither word or motion came from him, she saide: -Kinde _Jeronimo_, why doest thou not depart and get thee gone? So -putting forth her hand, it hapned to light upon his face, which she -felt to be as cold as yce: whereat marvelling not a little, as also -at his continued silence: shee jogged him, and felt his hands in like -manner, which were stiffely extended forth, and all his body cold, -as not having any life remaining in him, which greatly amazing her, -and confounding her with sorrow beyond all measure, shee was in such -perplexity, that the could not devise what to do or say. - -In the end, she resolved 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, unknowne 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 unexpected extremity, was, to take the dead body, and convey -it to his owne house, if he had any; whereby no scandall or reproach -would followe to them, in whose house he had so unfortunately dyed. -Heereupon, shee immediately arose, and lighting a candle, shewed him -the dead bodie of _Jeronimo_, with protestation of every particular, -both of her innocencie, either of knowledge of his comming thither, -or any other blame that could concerne her. Which hee both constantly -knowing and beleeving, made no more ceremonie, but putting on his -Garments, tooke the dead bodie upon 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 moved very much greefe and amazement, considering, he had bin seene -the day before, in perfect health to outward appearance. Nor neede we -to urge any question of his Mothers sorrow upon this straunge accident, -who, causing his body to bee carefully searched, without any blow, -bruise, wound, or hurt uppon it, the Physitians could not give 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 heavily by it, as many more did the -like beside, because he was beloved of every one. In which time of -universall mourning, the honest man (in whose house he dyed) spake -thus to his wife: disguise thyselfe in some decent manner, and go to -the Church, where (as I heare) they have laide the body of _Jeronimo_. -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. - -_Silvestra_, 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 advisedly we consider on the powerfull working of love; for -the heart of this woman, which the prosperous fortune of _Jeronimo_ -could not pierce, now in his wofull death did split in sunder; and the -ancient sparks of love 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 upon it: & even as extremity of greefe finished his life, so -did it hers in the same manner. For she moved neither hand not foot, -because her vitall powers had quite forsaken her. The women labouring -to comfort her by al the best means they could devise; did not take any -knowledge of her, by reason of her disguised garments: but finding her -dead indeede, and knowing her also to be _Silvestra_, being overcome -with unspeakable compassion, & danted with no meane admiration, they -stood strangely gazing each upon 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 -understanding, 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 _Silvestra_ and _Jeronimo_; by -which discourse, they generally conceived, the certaine occasion of -both their sodaine deaths, which moved 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 fortunes, they gave them -honourable buriall both in one grave. So, this poore couple, whome love -(in life) could not joyne together, death did unite in an inseparable -conjunction. - - - - -_Messer_ Guiglielmo _of_ Rossiglione _having slaine Messer_ Guiglielmo -Guardastagno, _whom hee imagined to love his wife, gave 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 Novell. - -_Whereby appeareth, what ill successe attendeth on them, that love -contrarie to reason: in offering injurie both to friendship and -marriage together._ - - -When the Novell of Madam _Neiphila_ was ended, which occasioned much -compassion in the whole assembly; the King who wold not infringe the -priviledge graunted to _Dioneus_, no more remaining to speake but -they two, began thus. I call to minde (gentle Ladies) a Novell, which -(seeing we are so farre entred into the lamentable accidents of -successelesse love) will urge you unto 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 respective quality; which approveth -the accident to bee more cruell, then those whereof wee have formerly -discoursed. - -According as the people of _Provence_ do report, there dwelt sometime -in that jurisdiction, 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 were both valiant Gentlemen, and singularly expert in actions of -Armes; they loved 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 five miles distant each from -other, yet were they dayly conversant together, as very loving 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 over-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 lovingly 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 love carried, that whether it -sorted to effect, or no, I know not: but the husband perceived some -such manner of behaviour, 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 converted -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 Just 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 thereon together, and for that purpose to -come and visit him, if he intended to have any hand in the businesse. -_Guardastagno_ being exceeding gladde of this accident, which gave 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 -upon this reply, projected to himselfe in what manner to kill him. - -On the morrow, after dinner, arming himselfe, and two more of his -servants 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 unarmed, as no way distrusting any such intended treason. -So soone as he was come to the place, where he had resolved to do the -deed; hee rushed forth of the ambush, and having a sharpe Lance readily -charged in his rest, ran mainly at him, saying: False villain, thou art -dead. _Guardastagno_, having nothing wherewith to defend himselfe, nor -his servants able to give 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 usually worne. - -_Messer Guiglielmo Rossiglione_, alighting from his horse, and having -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 never 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; mervailing at his so long tarrying, -saide to her husband. Beleeve me Sir (quoth she) me thinkes it is -somewhat strange, that _Messer Guiglielmo Guardastagno_ delayes his -comming so long, he never used to do so til now. I received 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 -used no more words. - -_Rossiglione_ leaving his Lady, went into the Kitchin, where calling -for the Cooke, he delivered 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 devise to doe; which being so -done, when I am set at the Table, send it to me in a silver dish, -with sauce beseeming so dainty a morsell. The Cooke tooke the heart, -beleeving it to be no otherwise, then as his Lord had saide: and using -his utmost skill in dressing it, did divide 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 -provoked her with many faire speeches, to tast the Cooks cunning in so -rare a dish. - -The Lady having 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 perceyved that all was eaten, he said unto -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 never better pleased. Now -trust mee Madam, answered the Knight, I doe verily beleeve you, nor -do I greatly wonder thereat, if you like that dead, which you loved -so dearly being alive. 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 have made me to eate? Muse no longer (said he) for -therein I will quickly resolve thee. Thou hast eaten the heart of -_Messer Guiglielmo Guardastagno_, whose love 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 unpleasing 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 have done -a most disloyall and damnable deede, misguided by your owne wicked -jealous opinion, and not by any just cause given you, to murther so -worthie and Noble a Gentleman. I protest unto you uppon my soule, which -I wish to bee confounded in eternall perdition, if ever I were unchaste -to your bedde, or allowed him any other favour, 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_; never -shall any other foode heereafter, have entertainment there, or my selfe -live the Wife to so bloody a husband. - -So starting uppe from the Table, and stepping unto 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 shivered her -bodie into many peeces. Which _Rossiglione_ perceyving, 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 -over-credulous conceit. - -Uppon further conference with his private thoughtes, and remorsefull -acknowledgement of his heinous offence, which repentance (too late) -gave him eyes now to see, though rashnesse before would not permit him -to consider; these two extreamities inlarged his dulled understanding. -First, he grew fearfull of the friends and followers to murdered -_Guardastagno_, as also the whole Countrey of _Provence_, in regarde of -the peoples generall love unto him; which being two maine and important -motives, both to the detestation of so horrid an acte, and immediate -severe revenge to succeed thereon: hee made such provision as best hee -could, and as so sodaine a warning would give leave, hee fled away -secretly in the night season. - -These unpleasing newes were soone spread abroad the next morning, not -only of the unfortunate accidents, but also of _Rossigliones_ flight; -in regard whereof, 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 befall -them, they were honourably enterred in one faire Tombe, with excellent -Verses engraven thereon, expressing both their noble degree, and by -what unhappy meanes, they chanced to have buriall there. - - - - -_A Physitians wife laide a Lover of her Maids (supposing him to bee -dead) in a Chest, by reason that he had drunke water, which usually was -given to procure a sleepy entrancing. Two Lombard Usurers, 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 -Justice, accuseth her selfe for putting the imagined dead body into the -Chest, by which meanes he escapeth hanging. And the theeves which stole -away the Chest, were condemned to pay a great summe of money._ - -The tenth Novell. - -_Wherein is declared, that sometime by adventurous accident, rather -then anie reasonable comprehension, a man may escape out of manifold -perilles, but especially in occurrences of Love._ - - -After that the King had concluded his Novell, 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 unfortunate Love, as all of you have 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 up 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 humour, 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 Novell which may minister a -more joviall kinde of argument, unto those tales that must bee told to -morrow, and with the expiration of our present Kings reigne, to rid us -of all heart-greeving heereafter. - -Know then (most gracious assembly) that it is not many yeares since, -when there lived in _Salerne_, a verie famous Physitian, named Signieur -_Mazzeo della Montagna_, who being already well entred into years, -would (neverthelesse) marrie with a beautifull young Mayden of the -Cittie, bestowing rich garments, gaudie attyres, Ringes, and Jewelles -on her, such as few Women elsee could any way equall, because hee -loved her most deerely. Yet being an aged man, and never remembering, -how vaine and idle a thing it is, for age to make such an unfitting -Election, injurious 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 unequall choyses, Parents commonly are more -blame-woorthie, then any imputation, to bee layde on the young Women, -who gladdely would enjoy such as in heart they have elected: but -that their Parents, looking thorough the glasses of greedie lucre, -doe overthrow both their owne hopes, and the faire fortunes of their -children together. - -Yet to speake uprightly 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 urging 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 services -(seeming compassionate of the womans disaster) are usually the cause of -jealous suspitions, & very heinous houshold discontentments. - -Among divers other, that faine would bee nibling at this bayte of -beautie, there was one, named _Ruggiero de Jeroly_, 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 -utterly gave him over to his dissolute courses: so that, thoroughout -all _Salerne_, his conditions caused his generall contempt, and hee -accounted no better, but even as a theeving and lewde companion. -The Doctours Wife, had a Chamber-maide attending on her; who, -notwithstanding all the ugly 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_ having this benefite of the Maides kinde love to him, made -it an hopefull mounting Ladder, whereby to derive 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 unable by any perswasions to remoove -her, tooke knowledge of _Ruggieroes_ privat resorting to hir house, -and in meere love to her Maide (who had very many especiall deservings -in her) oftentimes she would (in kinde manner) rebuke him, and advise -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 Silver, 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 elsee 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 judgement having 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 elsee the Pacient -must needes dye: yet he intended so to order the matter, that the -perrill should proceede no further, to prejudice any other part of -the bodie. The case beeing thus resolved on with the Pacient and -his Friends, the day and time was appointed when the deede should -be done: and the Doctor conceyving, 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 receyved it) it -will procure a kinde of dead sleepe, and endure so long a space, as -necessity requireth the use 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) up to the brimme; and till the time came when -hee should use it; hee set it in his owne Chamber-Windowe, never -acquainting any one, to what purpose he had provided the water, nor -what was his reason of setting it there; when it drew towards the -evening, 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 divers were very dangerously -wounded on either side, and without his speedy repairing thither, it -would prove to the losse of many lives. Heereupon, the cure of the mans -leg must needs bee prolonged, untill 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 small Barke, and forthwith set away towards _Malfy_. - -This absence of Master Doctor _Mazzeo_, gave opportunity to adventurous -_Ruggiero_, to visite his house (he being gone) in hope to get more -Crownes, and courtesie from the Mistresse, under formall colour of -courting the Maide. And being closely admitted into the house, when -divers 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 leave, 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 use of drinking, which maketh men unable any long while to -abstain, as being never satisfied with excesse; which of these two -extreams they were, I know not: but drink needs hee must. And, having -no other meanes for quenching his thirst, espied the glasse of water -standing in the Window, and thinking it to be some soveraigne kinde -of water, reserved 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 every 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 unlocking 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 mooved, or answered one word, whereat her patience being -some what provoked, 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 elsee she could -devise to do, yet all her labour proving still in vaine: she was almost -beside her wits, stamping and raving all about the roome, as if sence -and reason had forsaken her; so violent was her extreame distraction. - -Upon 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 advisedly 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 -love to this unruly fellow that can sway the censure of the monster -multitude, in beleeving his accesse hither onely to thee: but my good -name, and honest repute, as yet untoucht with the very least taxation, -will be rackt on the tenter of infamous judgement, and (though never so -cleare) branded with generall condemnation. It is wisedome therefore, -that we should make no noise but (in silence) consider with our selves, -how to cleare the house of this dead body, by some such helpfull and -witty device, as when it shall bee found in the morning, his being -heere may passe without suspition, and the worlds rash opinion no way -touch us. - -Weeping and lamenting is now laid aside, and all hope in them of his -lives 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 evening, although it was very late, at our -next Neighbours doore (who you know is a Joyner 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 remooved: and -if the owner have not lockt it, all invention elsee cannot furnish us -with the like help. For therein will we lay his body, whereon I will -bestow two or three wounds with my Knife, and leaving 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. Moreover, 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 favouring -the deed. - -The Maids counsell past under the seale of allowance, only her Mistris -thought it not convenient, that (having 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 conveied 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 -unlockt, whereof they were not a little joyfull. By the helpe of her -Mistresse, the Maide tooke _Ruggiero_ upon her shoulders, and bringing -him to the doore, with diligent respect that no one could discover -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 Joyner, dwelt two yong men -who were Lombards, living uppon the interest of their moneyes, coveting -to get much, and spend little. They having observed where the chest -stood, and wanting a necessary mooveable 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 heavy, and therefore imagining, that matter of -woorth was contained therein. In the chamber where their wives 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 recoverd -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 divers dayes and nights afterward. Having his -eies wide open, & yet not discerning any thing, he stretched forth -his armes every 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 up in a chest. What shold I thinke heereof? Is master Doctor -returned home, or hath some other inconvenience 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 have done, -because his lying in the bare Chest was somewhat uneasie and painfull -to him; turning divers times on the one side, and then as often again -on the other, coveting 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 un-even 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 overcome with feare, -that they had not the power to speake one word. _Ruggiero_ also being -affrighted with the Chests fall, and perceiving 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 up 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 -justling 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, Theeves, Theeves. -The neighbours arose upon this outcry, running up and downe from place -to place, some engirting the house, and others entering into it: by -means of which troublesome noise, the two Lombards awaked, and seizing -there uppon 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 -uproare, were come into the house, and had poore _Ruggiero_ committed -unto their charge: who bringing him before the Governor, 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, never -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 Governor gave him sentence to be -hanged. - -Soone were the newes spread throughout _Salerne_, that _Ruggiero_ was -apprehended, about robbing the house of the two usuring Lombardes: -which when Mistresse Doctor and her Chamber-maide heard, they were -confounded with most straunge admiration, and scarsely credited -what they themselves 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 _Mazzeo_ 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 never 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 us 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 -conceived, 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. Beleeve me Sir, you never acquainted us with any -such matter, which would have procured more carefull respect of it: but -seeing it is gone, 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 understand 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 perceive, he hath neither Kinsman nor Friend that will -doe any thing for him; but he is left with the Provost, and must be -executed to morrow morning. Moreover Mistresse, by such instructions as -I have received, I can well-neere informe you, by what meanes hee came -to the two Lombards house, if all be true that I have heard. - -You know the Joyner 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 whereof, they -are readie to quarrell extremly each with other. For the one owning -the Chest, and trusting the Joyner to sell it for him, would have -him to pay him for the Chest. The Joyner denieth any sale thereof, -avouching, 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 usurers, 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 Joyner gave him the -lye, because he never 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, even as I returned home. Wherefore Mistresse, as you may easily -perceive, _Ruggiero_ was (questionlesse) carried thither in the chest, -and so there found; but how he revived againe, I cannot comprehend. - -The Mistresse understanding now apparantly, the full effect of the -whole businesse, and in what manner it had bene carried, revealed 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, howsoever (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 behaviour 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 advise her with some -such happy course, as might bee the safety of poore _Ruggieroes_ -life. Mistresse Doctor, affecting her maide dearely, and plainly -perceiving, that no disastrous fortune whatsoever, could alter her love -to condemned _Ruggiero_; hoping the best heereafter, as the Maide her -selfe did, and willing to save life rather then suffer it to be lost -without just cause, she directed her in such discreet manner, as you -will better conceyve 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 over-much offended him. As how? said Master Doctor. In this -manner (quoth the Maid) and thus proceeded. You are not ignorant -Sir, what a leud liver _Ruggiero de Jeroly_ is, and notwithstanding -all his imperfections, how dearely I love him, as hee protesteth the -like to me, and thus hath our love continued a yeare, and more. You -beeing gone to _Malfy_, and your absence granting me apt opportunity, -for conference with so kinde a friend; I made the bolder, and gave -him entrance into your house, yea even 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 unable 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 have heard your discontentment for the said Water, -and confesse my fault to you therein: but who liveth so justly, -without offending at one time or other? And I am heartily sorry for -my transgression; yet not so much for the water, as the hard fortune -that hath followd thereon; because thereby _Ruggiero_ is in danger -to lose his life, and all my hopes are utterly 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 devise. - -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 have paide thee with -deserved repentance, upon thy Mistresses finding thee sleeping. But -go and get his deliverance if thou canst, with this caution, that if -ever heereafter he be seene in my house, the peril thereof shall light -on thy selfe. Receyving this answer, for her first entrance into the -attempt, and as her Mistris had advised her, in all hast shee went to -the prison, where shee prevailed so well with the Jaylor, that hee -granted her private conference with _Ruggiero_. She having instructed -him what he should say to the Provost, if he had any purpose to escape -with life; went thither before him to the Provost, 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 have apprehended _Ruggiero de Jeroly_, as a -theefe, and judgement 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 every -circumstance, from the originall to the end: relating truly, that being -her Lover, 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 Joyner, and -him that laide claime to the Chest, giving him to understand thereby, -how _Ruggiero_ was taken in the Lombards house. - -The Provost 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 upon what occasion he prepared it. Then the Joyner, the owner of -the Chest, and the two Lombards, being severally questioned withall: -it appeared evidently, that the Lombards did steale the chest in the -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 _Mazzeo 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 Provost had heard all their answers, which he caused them to -repeate over divers 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 given 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 love of all his kindred, -and lived in most Noble condition, even as if he had never beene the -disordered man. - -If the former Novelse had made all the Ladies sad and sighe, this last -of _Dioneus_ as much delighted them, as restoring them to their former -jocond humour, and banishing Tragicall discourse for ever. The King -perceyving that the Sun was neere setting, and his government as neere -ending, with many kinde and courteous speeches, excused himselfe to -the Ladies, for being the motive of such an argument, as expressed -the infelicity of poore Lovers. And having finished his excuse, up 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 proved 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 sorrow which they have this day -endured. - -Madame _Fiammetta_, whose lockes of haire were curled, long, and -like golden wiers, hanging somewhat downe over her white & delicate -shoulders, her visage round, wherein the Damaske Rose and Lilly -contended for priority, the eyes in her head, resembling those of the -Faulcon messenger, 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 have done -hitherto: I will and commaund, that generall preparation bee made -against to morrow, for faire and happy fortunes hapning to Lovers, -after former cruell and unkinde 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 gave leave unto the -whole company (who were all risen) to go recreate themselves until -supper time. Some of them walked about the Garden, the beauty whereof -banished the least thought of wearinesse. Others walked by the River -to the Mill, which was not farre off, and the rest fel to exercises, -fitting their own fancies, untill they heard the summons for Supper. -Hard by the goodly Fountaine (according to their wonted manner) they -supped altogether, and were served 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 -observed by my predecessors, but even as they have already done, so -it is my authority, to command a Song. And because I am well assured, -that you are not unfurnished of Songs answerable to the quality of -the passed Novelse: my desire is, in regard we would not be troubled -heereafter, with any more discourses of unfortunate Love, 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 prove, - How justly that poore heart hath cause to greeve, - Which (under trust) findes Treason in his love. - - When first I saw her, that now makes me sigh, - Distrust did never enter in my thoughts. - So many vertues clearly shin'd in her, - That I esteem'd all martyrdome was light - Which Love could lay on me. Nor did I greeve, - 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 strove to get forth of the snare, - I found myselfe 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 helse of heavy woes, - Not utterable. I curst the day and houre - When first I saw her lovely 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 moove, to speake I was affrayde. - My teares do, &c. - - Thou canst (thou powerfull God of Love) perceive, - My ceasselesse sorrow, 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 Love 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 joyes, - Come, take me quickly from so false a friend. - Yet in my death, let thy great power approve, - That I died true, and constant in my Love. - 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) themselves do sigh too late. - Learne Lovers learne, what tis to be unjust, - And be betrayed where you repose best trust._ - - Finis - -The words contained in this Song, did manifestly declare, what -torturing afflictions poore _Philostratus_ felt, and more (perhaps) -had beene perceived 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 up into her face. But the Song being -ended, & divers 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 under the Governement of the -most Noble Lady_ Fiammetta: _Concerning such persons, as have bene -successefull in their Love, 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, until the Sunne were risen a little higher. On many -pleasant matters they conferred together, as they walked in severall -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 arrived, shee commanded, that after this mornings walking, their -stomackes should bee refreshed with wholsome Wines, as also divers -sorts of banquetting stuffe. Afterward, they all repaired into the -Garden, not departing thence, untill the houre of dinner was come: at -which time, the Master of the houshold, having prepared every 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 divers dances, and -afterward voyces to their instruments, with many pretty Madrigals and -Roundelayes. Uppon the finishing of these delights, the Queene gave -them leave to take their rest, when such as were so minded, went to -sleep, others solaced themselves in the Garden. But after midday was -overpast, 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 upon _Pamphilus_, shee bad him begin -the dayes discourses, of happy successe in love, after disastrous and -troublesome accidents; who yeelding thereto with humble reverence, thus -began. - -Many Novelse (gracious Ladies) do offer themselves 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 above 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 Love are, deserving to bee both admired and reverenced. -Albeit there are many, who scarsely knowing what they say, do condemne -them with infinite grosse imputations: which I purpose to disprove, & -(I hope) to your no little pleasing. - - - - -Chynon, _by falling in love, became wise, and by force of Armes, -winning his faire Lady_ Iphigenia _on the Seas, was afterward -imprisoned at_ Rhodes. _Being delivered by one named_ Lysimachus, _with -him he recovered his_ Iphigenia _againe, and faire_ Cassandra, _even -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 Novell. - -_Wherein is approved, that Love (oftentimes) maketh a man both wise and -valiant._ - - -According to the ancient Annales of the _Cypriots_, there sometime -lived in _Cyprus_, a Noble Gentleman, who was commonly called -_Aristippus_, and exceeded all other of the Countrey in the goods -of Fortune. Divers children he had, but (amongst the rest) a -Sonne, in whose birth he was more infortunate then any of the rest; -and continually greeved, in regard, that having 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 judgement; being (indeed) a meere Ideot -or Foole, and no better hope to be expected of him. His true name, -according as he receyved it by Baptisme, was _Galesus_, but because -neyther by the laborious paines of his Tutors, indulgence, and faire -endeavour of his parents, or ingenuity of any other, he could bee -brought to civility of life, understanding of Letters, or common -cariage of a reasonable creature: by his grosse and deformed kinde of -speech, his qualities also savouring rather of brutish breeding, then -any way derived from manly education; as an epithite of scorne and -derision, generally, they gave him the name of _Chynon_, which in their -native Countrey language, and divers other beside, signifieth a very -Sot or Foole, and so was he termed by every one. - -This lost kinde of life in him, was no meane burthen of greefe unto his -Noble Father, and all hope being already spent, of any future happy -recovery, he gave command (because he would not alwayes have such a -sorrow in his sight) that he should live 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 behaviour -pleased him beyond the Cities civility. _Chynon_ living thus at his -Fathers Countrey Village, exercising nothing elsee but rurall demeanour, -such as then delighted him above all other: it chanced upon a day about -the houre of noone, as hee was walking over the fields, with a long -Staffe on his necke, which commonly he used 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 leaves fairely -shot forth. - -When he had walked thorow the thicket, it came to passe, that (even as -if good Fortune guided him) he came into a faire Meadow, on everie side -engirt with Trees, and in one corner thereof stoode a goodly Fountaine, -whose current was both coole and cleare. Harde by it, uppon 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 unto her, of interwoven delicate silke, and at her feete lay two -other Damoselse sleeping, and a servant in the same manner. No sooner -hadde _Chynon_ fixed his eie upon her, but he stood leaning uppon his -staffe, and viewed her very advisedly, without speaking a word, and -in no mean admiration, as if he had never seene the forme of a woman -before. He began then to feele in his harsh rurall understanding (where -into never till now, either by painfull instruction, or all other good -meanes used to him, any honest civility 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 ever any -living 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 (above all) her brests, appearing (as yet) but onely -to shewe themselves, like two little mountainets. So that, of a fielden -clownish lout, he would needs now become a judge of beauty, coveting -earnestly in his soule, to see her eyes, which were veiled over 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 judgement, she excelled all the women that ever 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 -conceive of divine and celestiall things, and that they were more to be -admired & reverenced, then those of humane or terrene consideration; -wherefore the more gladly he contented himselfe, to tarry til she -awaked of her owne accord. And although the time of stay seemed tedious -to him, yet notwithstanding, he was overcome 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 up her head, with her eyes wide open, shee saw -_Chynon_ standing before her, leaning still on his staffe; whereat -mervailing not a little, she saide unto 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 -observe them with a constant regard, as being perswaded in his soule, -that from them flowed such an unutterable singularity, as he had never -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 servant, and they all being risen, she -saide. Farewell _Chynon_, I leave 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 incivility from him: yet could she not devise any way to be rid of -him, til he had brought her to her owne dwelling, where taking leave -mannerly of her, hee went directly home to his Fathers house, saying; -Nothing should compel him to live any longer in the muddy Countrey. And -albeit his Father was much offended heereat, and all the rest of his -kindred and friends: (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 never any civil -instruction could before get entrance) with loves piercing dart, by -the bright beauty of _Iphigenia_, mooved much admiration (falling from -one change to another) in his Father, Kindred, and all elsee 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 civill youths, observing -also the cariage of Gentlemen, especially such as were amorously -enclined: he grew to a beginning in short time (to the wonder of every -one) not onely to understande the first instruction of letters, but -also became most skilfull, even amongest them that were best exercised -in Philosophie. And afterward, love to _Iphigenia_ being the sole -occasion of this happy alteration, not only did his harsh and clownish -voyce convert 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 love, -but hee became generally knowne, to bee the most civil, wise, and -worthy Gentleman, as well for all vertues enriching the minde, as any -whatsoever 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 elsee, but that those high and divine vertues, infused -into his gentle soule, were by envious Fortune bound and shut uppe -in some small angle of his intellect, which being shaken and set at -liberty by love, (as having a farre more potent power then Fortune, -in quickning and reviving the dull drowsie spirits); declared his -mighty and soveraigne Authority, in setting free so many faire and -precious vertues unjustly detayned, to let the worlds eye behold them -truly, by manifest testimony, from whence he can deliver those spirits -subjected to his power, & guide them (afterward) to the highest degrees -of honour. And although _Chynon_ by affecting _Iphigenia_, failed in -some particular things; yet notwithstanding, his Father _Aristippus_ -duely considering, that love had made him a man, whereas (before) he -was no better then a beast: not only endured all patiently, but also -advised him therein, to take such courses as best liked himselfe. -Neverthelesse, _Chynon_ (who refused to be called _Galesus_, which was -his naturall name indeede) remembring that _Iphigenia_ tearmed him -_Chynon_, and coveting (under that title) to accomplish the issue of -his honest amorous desire: made many motions to _Ciphæus_ the Father of -_Iphigenia_, that he would be pleased to let him enjoy her in marriage. -But _Ciphæus_ 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 divine 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 have her I will, or loose my life in the adventure. -Beeing thus resolved, he prevailed with divers young Gentlemen his -friends, making them of his faction, and secretly prepared a Shippe, -furnished with all things for a Navall fight, setting sodainly forth -to sea, and hulling abroad in those parts by which the vessell should -passe, that must convey _Iphigenia_ to _Rhodes_ to her husband. -After many honours done to them, who were to transport her thence unto -_Rhodes_, being imbarked, they set saile uppon 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 elsee determine to be sunke in the Sea. The -enemies to _Chynon_, being nothing danted with his words, prepared to -stand upon their own defence; which made _Chynon_, after the former -speeches delivered, 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 vesselse joyned 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 having his sword ready drawne in his hand -(incited by the vertue of unfaigned love) layed about him on all sides -very manfully. Which when the men of _Rhodes_ perceyved, calling downe -their weapons, and all of them (as it were) with one voice, yeelded -themselves 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 mooved me, is a matter highly -importing to me, and very easie for you to graunt, and so enjoy your -present peace. I desire to have faire _Iphigenia_ from you, whom I love -above all other Ladies living, because I could not obtain her of her -Father, to make her my lawfull wife in marriage. Love is the ground of -my instant Conquest, and I must use you as my mortall enemies, if you -stand uppon any further tearmes with me, and do not deliver her as mine -owne: for your _Pasimondo_, must not enjoy what is my right, first by -vertue of my love, & now by conquest: Deliver her therefore, and depart -hence at your pleasure. - -The men of _Rhodes_, being rather constrained thereto, then of any -free disposition in themselves; with teares in their eyes, delivered -_Iphigenia_ to _Chynon_; who beholding her in like manner to weepe, -thus spake unto her. Noble Lady, do not any way discomfort your selfe, -for I am your _Chynon_, who have more right and true title to you, and -much better doe deserve to enjoy 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 gave her kinde welcome, without touching -any thing elsee belonging to the Rhodians, he gave them free liberty to -depart. - -_Chynon_ being more joyfull, by the obtaining of his hearts desire, -then any other conquest elsee 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 joyned with him -in opinion, that their safest course was, by no meanes to returne -to _Cyprus_; and therefore all (with one consent) resolved to set -saile for _Candye_, where every 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 -favourable to _Chynon_, in granting him so pleasing a Conquest, to -shew her inconstancy, as sodainly changed the inestimable joy of our -jocond Lover, into as heavy sorrow and disaster. For, foure houres -were not fully compleated, since his departure from the Rhodians, but -darke night came upon them, and he sitting conversing 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 unexpected -distresse, nor how to warrant themselves 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 love and life together. His friends -likewise, felte the selfesame affliction, but especially _Iphigenia_, -who wept and greeved beyond all measure, to see the ship beaten, -with such stormy billowes, as threatned her sinking every minute. -Impatiently she cursed the love of _Chynon_, greatly blaming his -desperate boldnesse, and maintaining, that so violent a tempest could -never happen, but onely by the Gods displeasure, who would not permit -him to have a wife against their will; and therefore thus punished his -proud presumption, not only in his unavoidable 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 every moment they expected wracking: they were carried -(contrary to their owne knowledge) very neere unto the Isle of -_Rhodes_, which they being no way able to avoid, and utterly ignorant -of the coast; for safety of their lives, they laboured to land there if -possibly they might. Wherein Fortune was somewhat furtherous to them, -driving 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 heavens to looke -more clearly) gave them discoverie, 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 sorrowfull, as fearing -that which after followed, and therefore hee willed the Mariners, to -get away from her by all their best endeavour, & let fortune afterward -dispose of them as she pleased; for into a worse place they could not -come, nor fall into the like danger. - -The Mariners employed their very utmost paines, and all prooved but -losse of time: for the winde was so stern, and the waves so turbulent, -that still they drove them the contrary way: so that striving to get -foorth of the gulfe, whether they would or no, they were driven on -land, and instantly knowne to the Rhodians, whereof they were not a -little joyful. The men of _Rhodes_ being landed, ran presently to -a neere neighbouring Village, where dwelt divers worthy Gentlemen, -to whom they reported the arrivall of _Chynon_, what fortune befell -them at Sea, and that _Iphigenia_ might now be recovered againe, with -chastisement to _Chynon_ for his bold insolence. They being very -joyfull 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 adjoining -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 arrived, 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 soveraigne Magistrate over the Rhodians, to go -well provided for the apprehension of _Chinon_ and all his company, -committing them to prison, which accordingly was done. In this manner, -the poore unfortunate lover _Chynon_, lost his faire _Iphigenia_, -having 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, untill the day -determined for her mariage. - -At the earnest entreaty of divers Rhodian Gentlemen, who were in -the Ship with _Iphigenia_, and had their lives courteously saved by -_Chynon_: both he and his friends had their lives likewise spared, -although _Pasimondo_ laboured importunately, to have them all put to -death; onely they were condemned to perpetuall imprisonment, which (you -must thinke) was most greevous to them, as being now hopelesse of any -deliverance. 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 unto you. - -_Pasimondo_ had a Brother, yonger then he in yeares, but not a jot -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 Governour loved verie dearly, and hindred her marriage with -_Hormisda_, by divers strange accidents. Now _Pasimondo_ perceiving, -that his owne Nuptials required much cost and solemnity, hee thought -it very convenient, that one day might serve for both the Weddinges, -which elsee would lanch into more lavish 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 utterly deprived of -al hope to attaine the issue of his desire, if _Hormisda_ receyved -_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 giving such an -unfitting example. Neverthelesse, after long deliberation, honour gave -way to love, and resolutely he concluded to steale her away, whatsoever -became of it. - -Nothing wanted now, but a convenient company to assist him, & the order -how to have it done. Then he remembred _Chynon_ and his friends, whom -he detained as his prisoners, and perswaded himself, that he could not -have 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 themselves, 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 have 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 have heard) by the piercing solicitudes of love, -of a senselesse creature, they made thee to become a man endued with -reason. Afterward, by adverse 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 enjoyedst 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 never give thee any blessing more worthy of acceptance, -then she whom 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 ever heretofore, I will acquaint thee -withall more at large. - -Understand then Noble _Chynon_, that _Pasimondo_, the onely glad man -of thy misfortune, and diligent sutor after thy death, maketh all hast -hee can possibly devise 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 love bee such, as I am perswaded it is) I partly can collect -from my selfe, being intended to be wronged by his brother _Hormisda_, -even in the selfsame manner, and on his marriage day, by taking faire -_Cassandra_ from me, the onely Jewell of my love and life. For the -prevention of two such notorious injuries, I see that Fortune hath left -us no other meanes, but only the vertue of our courages, and the helpe -of our right hands, by preparing our selves to Armes, opening a way to -thee, by a second rape or stealth; and to me the first, for absolute -possession of our divine Mistresses. Wherefore, if thou art desirous to -recover thy losse, I will not onely pronounce liberty to thee (which I -thinke thou dost little care for without her) but dare also assure thee -to enjoy _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 craving any long -respit of time for answer, thus he replyed. Lord _Lysimachus_, in such -a busines as this is, you cannot have a faster friend then my self, -at least, if such good hap may betide me, as you have more then halfe -promised: & therefore do no more but command what you would have 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_, upon which day, thou, thy -friends, and my self (with some others, in whom I repose especiall -trust) by the friendly favour of night, will enter into their houses, -while they are in the middest of theyr Joviall feasting; and (seizing -on the two Brides) beare them thence to a Shippe, which I will have lye -in secret, waiting for our comming, and kil all such as shall presume -to impeach us. This direction gave great contentment to _Chynon_, who -remained still in prison, without revealing a word to his owne friends, -until the limited time was come. - -Upon the Wedding day, performed with great and magnificent Triumph, -there was not a corner in the Brethrens houses, but it sung joy 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 -division in three parts, of _Chynon_, his followers, and his owne -friendes, being all well armed under their outward habites. Having -first used 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 urgent -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 up fast, and so impeach their passage forth. -Then with _Chynon_, and the third band of Confederates, he ascended -the staires up 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, delivered them into the hands of -their followers, commanding that they should be carried aboord the -ship, for avoiding of further inconveniences. - -This hurrie and amazement beeing in the house, the Brides weeping, the -Ladies lamenting, and all the servants confusedly wondering; _Chynon_ -and _Lysimachus_ (with their Friends) having their weapons drawn in -their hands, made all opposers to give 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 divers 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 arrived, they were worthily entertained by honourable Friendes -and Kinsmen, who pacified all unkindnesses betweene them and their -Mistresses: And, having accepted them in lawfull marriage, there -they lived in no meane joy and contentment: albeit there was a long -and troublesome 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 have such discontentment appeased, -endangering warre betweene the Kingdomes: after a limited time of -banishment, _Chynon_ returned joyfully with his _Iphigenia_ home to -_Cyprus_, and _Lysimachus_ with his beloved _Cassandra_ unto _Rhodes_, -each living in their severall Countries, with much felicity. - - - - -_Faire_ Constance _of_ Liparis, _fell in love 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 living. There -she made her selfe knowne to him, and he being in great authority, as -a privy Counsellor to the King: he married the saide_ Constance, _and -returned richly home with her, to the Island of_ Liparis. - -The second Novell. - -_Wherein is declared the firme loyaltie of a true Lover: And how -Fortune doth sometime humble men, to raise them afterward to a farre -higher degree._ - - -When the Queene perceyved, that the Novell recited by _Pamphilus_ was -concluded, which she graced with especial commendations: she commaunded -Madame _Æmillia_, to take her turne as next in order; whereupon, thus -she began. Me thinkes it is a matter of equity, that every 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 -scrupulous affectation, I shall the more gladly obey our Queen to day, -then yesterday I did our melancholly King. - -Understand then (Noble Ladies) that neere to _Sicily_, there is a small -Island, commonly called _Liparis_, wherein (not long since) lived 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 unexpert 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_ coveting to enjoy her in marriage, made -his intent knowne to her Father: who upbraiding him with poverty, tolde -him plainly that hee should not have her. _Martuccio_ greeving to see -himselfe thus despised, because he was poore: made such good meanes, -that he was provided of a small Barke; and calling such friends (as he -thought fit) to his association, made a solemne vow, that hee would -never returne backe to _Liparis_, untill he was rich, and in better -condition. - -In the nature and course of a Rover 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 favourable 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 themselves with sufficient riches: by greedy seeking -to get more, happened to be taken by certaine ships of the Sarazins, -and so were robbed themselves of all that they had gotten, yet they -resisted them stoutly a long while together, though it proved to -the losse of many lives among them. When the Sarazens had sunke his -shippe in the Sea, they tooke him with them to _Thunis_, where he was -imprisoned, and lived in extreamest misery. - -Newes came to _Liparis_, not onely by one, but many more beside, that -all those which departed thence in the small Barke with _Martuccio_ -were drowned in the Sea, and not a man escaped. When _Constance_ heard -these unwelcome tydings (who was exceeding full of greefe, for his so -desperate departure) she wept and lamented extraordinarily, desiring -now rather to dye, then live 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 privately from her Fathers -house, shee went to the port or haven, where (by chance) she found a -small Fisher-boate, lying distant from the other vesselse, 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 resolved with her selfe, that the -Boat being uncharged, and without a guide, wold either be over-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 jot, they conducted the small -Boat in such sort, that after the night of her entering into it, and -the morowes sailing untill the evening, 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 up her head to look about -her, neither intended ever to doe. Now it came to passe, that as the -boate was driven to the shore, a poore woman stood at the Sea side, -washing certaine Fishermens Nets; and seeing the boate comming towards -her under 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 sorrowes having broght her now into a sound sleepe, the -woman gave many cals before she could awake her, which at the length -she did, and looked very strangely about her. - -The poore woman perceyving 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 arrive there in this manner? When -_Constance_ heard her speake the Latine tongue, she began to doubt, -least some contrary winde had turned her backe to _Liparis_ againe, and -starting up sodainly, to looke with better advice 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 perceyving, that -death had denied to end her miseries, fearing least she should receive -some dishonour, in such a barbarous unkinde 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 prevailed so -well by gentle speeches, that shee conducted her into her owne poore -habitation; where at length she understoode, by what meanes shee hapned -thither so strangely. And perceyving 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 servant -in this Countrey to certaine Christian Fishermen. The yong Maiden -(albeit she was very full of sorrow) hearing her name to be _Carapresa_, -conceived it as a good augury to her selfe, & that she had heard the -name before, although shee knew not what occasion should move her thus -to do. Now began her hopes to quicken againe, and yet shee could not -tell upon 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 -(even for charities sake) to take pitty on her youth, and help her with -such good advice, to prevent all injuries which might happen to her, in -such a solitary wofull condition. - -_Carapresa_ having heard her request, like a good woman as shee was, -left _Constance_ in her poore Cottage, and went hastily to leave her -nets in safety: which being done, she returned backe againe, and -covering _Constance_ with her Mantle, led her on to _Susa_ with her, -where being arrived, the good woman began in this manner. _Constance_, -I will bring thee to the house of a very worthy Sarazin Lady, to whome -I have done manie honest services, 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 use thee as if thou wert her owne daughter. Now, -let it be thy part, during thy time of remaining with her, to employ -thy utmost diligence in pleasing her, by deserving and gaining her -grace, till heaven shall blesse thee with better fortune: And as she -promised, so she performed. - -The Sarazine Lady, being well stept into yeares, upon the commendable -speeches delivered by _Carapresa_, did the more seriously fasten her -eye on _Constance_, and compassion provoking her to teares, she tooke -her by the hand, and (in loving manner) kissed her fore-head. So she -led her further into her house, where dwelt divers other women (but not -one man) all exercising themselves in severall labours, as working in -all sorts of silke, with Imbroideries of Gold and Silver, and sundry -other excellent Arts beside, which in short time were verie familiar to -_Constance_, and so pleasing grew her behaviour to the old Lady, and -all the rest beside; that they loved 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 service 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 lived 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 have 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 honour 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 have frequented your countrey, -I have heedfully observed, that the Militarie Discipline used in your -fights and battailes, dependeth more upon 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 give great hope of successefull -prevailing. Sir, said _Martuccio_, if you please it may bee done, and -I can quickly resolve you how. Let the strings of your Archers Bowes -bee made more soft and gentle, then those which heretofore they have -formerly used; and next, let the nockes of the Arrowes be so provided, -as not to receive any other, then those pliant gentle strings. But -this must be done so secretly, that your enemies may have no knowledge -thereof, least they should provide themselves in the same manner. Now -the reason (Gracious Lord) why thus I counsell you, is to this end. -When the Archers on the Enemies side have shot their Arrowes at your -men, and yours in the like manner at them: it followeth, that (upon -meere constraint) they must gather up your Arrowes, to shoote them -backe againe at you, for so long while as the battell endureth, as no -doubt but your men will do the like to them. But your enemies will finde -themselves much deceived, because they can make no use of your peoples -Arrowes, in regard that the nockes are too narrow to receive 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 have free -use of both, reserving them in plentifull store, when your adversaries -must stand unfurnished of any, but them that they cannot any way use. - -This counsell pleased the King very highly, and hee being a Prince of -great understanding, gave order to have 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 honour of the man by whome they hapned: even 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 living, and in -honourable condition. The love which formerly she bare unto 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) revived againe in chearfull manner. - -Having 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 (even -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 understand the newes of _Martuccio Gomito_. After -they knew for a certaintie that hee was living, 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 unto him in this manner. Noble -_Martuccio_, there is a servant of thine in my house, which came from -_Liparis_, and requireth to have a little private 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_ gave 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 joy, and being unable 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 utter one word) the teares trickled abundantly downe her -cheekes. _Martuccio_ also seeing his faire friend, was overcome with -exceeding admiration, & stood awhile, as not knowing what to say; -till venting forth a vehement sighe, thus he spake. My deerest love -_Constance_! art thou yet living? It is a tedious long while since I -heard thou wast lost, and never any tydinges knowne of thee in thine -owne Fathers house. With which wordes, the teares standing his eyes, -most lovingly he embraced her. _Constance_ recounted to him all her -fortunes, and what kindnesse she hadde receyved 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 Love _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 deserved him to be -thy husband. Then sending for very costly Jewelse, and rich presents, -the one halfe of them he gave to her, and the other to _Martuccio_, -graunting them license withall, to marry according to their owne mindes. - -_Martuccio_ did many honours, and gave great giftes to the aged Sarazine -Lady, with whom _Constance_ had lived so kindly respected: which -although she had no neede of, neither ever expected any such rewarding; -yet (conquered by their urgent importunity, especially _Constance_, who -could not be thankfull enough to her) she was enforced to receive them, -and taking her leave 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, untill they arrived at _Liparis_, -where they were entertained with generall rejoycing. And because their -marriage was not sufficiently performed at _Thunis_, in regard of -divers Christian ceremonies there wanting, their Nuptials were againe -most honourably solemnized, and they lived (many yeares after) in -health and much happinesse. - - - - -Pedro Bocamazzo, _escaping away with a yong Damosell which he loved, -named_ Angelina, _met with Theeves in his journey. The Damosell flying -fearfully into a Forrest, by chance arriveth at a Castle._ Pedro _being -taken by the Theeves, 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 Novell. - -_Wherein, the severall powers both of Love and Fortune, is more at -large approved._ - - -There was not any one in the whole company, but much commended the -Novell reported by Madam _Emillia_, and when the Queene perceived 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 -unfortunate night, which happened to two Lovers, 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 Bocamazzo_, -descended from one of the most honourable families in _Rome_, who -was much enamoured of a beautifull Gentlewoman, called _Angelina_, -daughter to one named _Giglivozzo Saullo_, whose fortunes were none -of the fairest, yet he greatly esteemed among the Romaines. The -entercourse of love between these twaine, had so equally enstructed -their hearts and souls, that it could hardly be judged which of them -was the more fervent in affection. But he, not being inured 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 enjoy her in honourable mariage. Which his parents and -friends hearing, they went to conferre with him, blaming him with -over-much basenesse, so farre to disgrace himselfe and his stocke. -Beside, they advised the Father to the Maid, neither to credit what -_Pedro_ saide in this case, or to live in hope of any such match, -because they all did wholly despise it. - -_Pedro_ perceiving, that the way was shut up, whereby (and none other) -he was to mount the Ladder of his hopes; began to waxe weary of longer -living: and if he could have won her fathers consent, he would have -maried her in the despight of all his friends. Neverthelesse, 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 understood her ready -resolution, to adventure with him thorough all fortunes whatsoever, -concluding on their sodaine and secret flight from Rome. For which -_Pedro_ did so well provide, that very early in a morning, and well -mounted on horsebacke, they tooke the way leading unto _Alagna_, where -_Pedro_ had some honest friends, in whom he reposed especiall trust. -Riding on thus thorow the countrey, having no leysure to accomplish -their marriage, because they stoode in feare of pursuite: they were -ridden above foure leagues from Rome, still shortning the way with -their amorous discoursing. - -It fortuned, that _Pedro_ having 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 twelve Villaines, whom -_Angelina_ sooner espyed, then _Pedro_ could do, which made her cry -out to him, saying: Help deere Love to save us, or elsee we shall be -assayled. _Pedro_ then turning his horse so expeditiously as he could, -and giving him the spurres as neede required; mainly he gallopped into -a neere adjoining Forrest, more minding the following of _Angelina_, -then any direction of his way, or then that endeavoured to be his -hinderance. So that by often winding & turning about, as the passage -appeared troublesome 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 resolving them therein, they fell into a secret -consultation, saying thus among themselves. This man is a friend to our -deadly enemies, how can wee then otherwise dispose of him, but bereave -him of all he hath, and in despight of the _Orsini_ (men in nature -hatefull to us) hang him up 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 unwillingly) -it so fell out, that five and twenty other theeves, came sodainly -rushing in upon 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 themselves. Which the new crewe -perceyving, 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_ perceyved, and saw -none tarrying to prey uppon 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 beloved _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 travailed still, not -knowing where to make his arrivall. And having formerly heard of savage -ravenous beasts, which commonly live in such unfrequented 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 unfortunate _Pedro_, untill 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, untill 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 uppon 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 -unto a great tree, uppe he climbed into the same Tree, fearing to bee -devoured (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 cleare: yet durst -hee not nod, or take a nap, lest he should fall out of the tree; but -sate still greeving, sighing, and mourning, despairing of ever 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 unto: but even as it pleased hir -horse to carry her: she entred so farre into the Forest, that she could -not devise where to seeke her owne safety. And therefore, even 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 greevously complaining of her hard fortune. At -the length, perceyving that _Pedro_ came not to her at all, she found -a little path (which shee lighted on by great good fortune) even 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 therein a very old man, having a wife -rather more aged then he, who seeing hir to be without company, the old -man spake thus unto her. - -Faire daughter (quoth he) whether wander you at such an unseasonable -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 above sixe leagues hence. Then -shee desired to knowe, how farre off shee was from such houses, where -she might have any reasonable lodging? There are none so neere, said -the old man, that day light will give you leave to reach. May it please -you then good Father (replied _Angelina_) seeing I cannot travaile any -whether elsee; For Gods sake, to let me remaine heere with you this -night. Daughter answered the good old man, wee can gladly give you -entertainement here, for this night, in such poore manner as you see: -but let mee tell you withall, that up and downe these wooddes (as well -by night as day) walke companies of all conditions, and rather enimies -then friends, who doe us many greevious displeasures and harmes. Now -if by misfortune, you beeing heere, any such people should come, and -seeing you so loovely faire, as indeed you are, offer you any shame or -injurie: 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 us. - -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 will -of heaven, both you and I shall be defended from any misfortune: but -if any such mischance do happen, I account the matter lesse deserving -grief, if I fall into the mercy of men, then to be devoured 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 provision 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 -divided from her deare _Pedro_, of whose life and welfare she greatly -despaired. - -When it was almost day, she heard a great noise of people travailing -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 -travelling strangers might not readily finde her there in the house. -Scarsely was she fully hidden, but a great company of Theeves and -Villaines, finding the doore open, rushed into the Cottage, where -looking round about them for some booty, they saw the Damoselse 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 gave him house-roome heere, rather then to be devoured by Wolves -abroad. Then said the principall of the Theevish crew; This horse shall -be ours, in regard he hath no other master, and let the owner come -claime him of us. - -When they had searched every 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 Javelins and Targets, wherewith they used -commonly to travaile. It fortuned, that one of them, being more subtily -suspitious then the rest, thrust his Javeline 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 theeving exercise, taking the Damoselse 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 us yesternight? I have 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 over-blowne, and hearing none of the former noise, -which made her the better hope of their departure, came forth of the -Hay-stack; whereof the good old man was not a little joyfull, and -because she had so well escaped from them: so seeing it was now broad -day-light, he sayde unto 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 travaile thither on foote, -because the night-walkers that happened hither, have 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, and arrived there betweene seven 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 upon -_Angelina_, but shee knew her immediately, and entertaining her very -willingly, requested, to know the reason of her thus arriving there: -which shee at large related, and moved the Lady (who likewise knew -_Pedro_ perfectly well) to much compassion, because he was a kinsman -and deare friend to her Husband; and understanding how the Theeves 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, untill 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 full of griefe, as no man -could be more; about the houre of midnight (by the bright splendour of -the Moone) espied about some twenty Wolves, who, so soone as they got -a sight of the Horse, ran and engirt him round about. The Horse when -he perceived 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 every side, and utterly unable 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 jot 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 devise 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, having stood quaking so long in the Tree; -at length by continuall looking every 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 arrived, 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 releeve 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 loving manner, to ridde -him of all further feares. - -When he was arrived at the Castle, and found there divers 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 joy, for never could any man -be more comforted, then he was at the sight of his _Angelina_, and -questionlesse, her joy was not a jot inferior to his, such a simpathy -of firme love was sealed between them. The Lady of the Castle, after -shee had given them very gracious entertainement, and understood -the scope of their bold adventure; shee reproved them both somewhat -sharpely, for presuming so farre without the consent of their Parents. -But perceiving (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 -offensive to me? They love each other loyally; they are not inferiour -to one another in birth, but in fortune; they are equally loved and -allied to my Husband, and their desire is both honest and honourable. -Moreover, what know I, if it be the will of Heaven to have it so? -Theeves 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 Javeline, and yet her fairer starres would not suffer -her so to perish: beside, they both have escaped the fury of ravenous -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 Heavens. - -Then turning her selfe to them, thus shee proceeded. If your desire -be to joyne 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 endeavour, to make peace between you and -your discontented Parents. _Pedro_ was not a little joyfull at her -kind offer, and _Angelina_ much more then he; so they were maried -together in the Castle, and worthily feasted by the Lady, as Forrest -entertainment could permit, and there they enjoyed the first fruits of -their love. 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 prevailed so wel with -_Pedroes_ angry Parents: that all variance ended in love and peace, -and afterward they lived lovingly 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, having his hand fast in -hers, and shee sleeping in the same manner. Whereupon, they were joyned -together in marriage, and their long loyall love mutually recompenced._ - -The fourth Novell. - -_Declaring the discreete providence of Parents, in care of their -Childrens love and their owne credit, to cut off inconveniences, before -they doe proceede too farre._ - - -Madam _Eliza_ having ended her Tale, and heard what commendations the -whole company gave thereof; the Queene commanded _Philostratus_, to -tell a Novell agreeing with his owne minde, who smiling thereat, thus -replyed. Faire Ladies, I have beene so often checkt & snapt, for my -yester dayes matter and argument of discoursing, which was both tedious -and offensive to you; that if I intended to make you any amends, I -should now undertake 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 Novell, not any way offensive (as I trust) but exemplary -for some good notes of observation. - -Not long since, there lived 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 _Jaquemina_, he had a Daughter, the very choycest -and goodliest gentlewoman in all those parts. Now because such a happy -blessing (in their olde yeeres) was not a little comfortable to them; -they thought themselves the more bound in duty, to be circumspect of -her education, by keeping her out of over-frequent companies, but -onely such as agreed best with their gravity, & might give the least -ill example to their Daughter, who was named _Catharina_; as making no -doubt, but by this their provident 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, even as if he had beene their owne -Sonne. - -This young Gallant, perceiving the Maiden to be very beautifull, of -singular behaviour, 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 covertly caried, but that she perceived it, -and grew in as good liking of him. Many times he had an earnest desire -to have 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 love? _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 Love, I have dedicated -all my fairest fortunes onely to thy service, so that it remaineth -soly in thy power, to dispose of me as best shall please thee, and to -appoint such times of private conversation, as may yeeld more comfort -to my poore afflicted soule. - -_Catherina_ standing musing awhile, 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 conversing with any one, that I hold -this our enterparlance now almost miraculous. But if you could devise -any convenient meanes, to admit us more familiar freedome, without any -prejudice to mine honour, or the least distaste of my Parents; doe but -enstruct it, and I will adventure it. _Ricciardo_ having 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 private talking together, I conceive to be the Gallery over your -Fathers Garden. If you can winne your Mother to let you lodge there, -I will make meanes to climbe over the wall, and at the goodly gazing -window, we may discourse so long as we please. Now trust me deare Love -(answered _Catharina_) no place can be more convenient for our purpose, -there shall we heare the sweete Birds sing, especially the Nightingale, -which I have 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 divers 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 over-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 have it? -Seasons are to be suffered, according to their severall 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 _Catherina_, -that cannot be; for as Summer proceedeth on, so the heate encreaseth, -and no expectation can be of temperate weather, untill it groweth to -Winter againe. Why Daughter, saide the Mother, what wouldest thou have -me to doe? Mother (quoth shee) if it might stand with my Fathers good -liking and yours, I would be lodged in the Garden Gallery, which is a -great deale more coole, and temperate. There shall I heare the sweete -Nightingale sing, as every night shee useth to doe, and many other -pretty Birds beside, which I cannot doe, lodging in your Chamber. - -The Mother loving her Daughter dearely, as being some-what over-fond of -her, and very willing to give her contentment; promised to impart her -minde to her Father, not doubting but to compasse what shee requested. -When shee had moved 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 Oven, 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 not 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, have we but one onely Daughter, whom you pretend to love -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 hardly (as yet) out of her childish -yeeres, and Children have many desires farre differing from ours: the -singing of Birds is rare musicke to them, and chiefly the Nightingale; -whose sweete notes will provoke them to rest, when neither art or -physicke can doe it. - -Is it even so Wife? answered _Messer Lizio_. Must your will and mine be -governed by our Daughter? Well be it so then, let her bed be made in -the Garden Gallerie, but I will have the keeping of the key, both to -locke her in at night, and set her at libertie every morning. Woman, -woman, young wenches are wily, many wanton crochets are busie in their -braines, and to us that are aged, they sing like Lapwings, telling us -one thing, and intending another; talking of Nightingales, when their -mindes run on Cocke-Sparrowes. Seeing Wife, shee must needes have -her minde, let yet your care and mine extend so farre, to keepe her -chastity uncorrupted, and our credulity from being abused. _Catharina_ -having thus prevailed with her Mother, her bed made in the Garden -Gallery, and secret intelligence given to _Ricciardo_, for preparing -his meanes of accesse to her window; old provident _Lizio_ lockes the -doore to bed-ward, and gives 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 Lovers) take their -rest; _Ricciardo_ having provided a Ladder of Ropes, with grapling -hookes to take hold above and below, according as he had occasion to -use it. By helpe thereof, first he mounted over the Garden wall, and -then climbde up to the Gallery window, before which (as is every where -in _Italie_) was a little round engirting Tarras, onely for a man to -stand upon, for making cleane the window, or otherwise repairing it. -Many nights (in this manner) enjoyed they their meetings, entermixing -their amorous conference with infinite kisses and kinde embraces, as -the window gave leave, he sitting in the Tarras, and departing alwayes -before breake of day, for feare of being discovered by any. - -But, as excesse of delight is the Nurse to negligence, and begetteth -such an over-presuming boldnesse, as afterward proveth to be sauced -with repentance: so came it to passe with our over-fond Lovers, in -being taken tardy 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 -respective of, then was requisite in an adventure so dangerous: it -fortuned, that their amorous pleasure had so farre transported them, -and dulled their sences in such sort, by these their continued nightly -watchings; that they both fell fast asleepe, he having 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 wives Chamber, saide to her. Rise -quickly wife, and you shall see, what made our Daughter so desirous to -lodge in the Garden Gallery. I perceive that shee loved 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 -live 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 -perceiving how _Ricciardo_ and _Catharina_ had both deceived her, -would have made an outcry, but that _Messer Lizio_ spake thus to her. -Wife, as you love me, speake not a word, neither make any noyse: for, -seeing shee hath loved _Ricciardo_ without our knowledge, and they -have had their private meetings in this manner, yet free from any -blamefull imputation; he shall enjoy her, and shee him. _Ricciardo_ -is a Gentleman, well derived, and of rich possessions, it can be no -disparagement to us, that _Catharina_ match with him in mariage, -which he neither shall, or dare denie to doe, in regard of our Lawes -severity; for climbing up to my window with his Ladder of Ropes, -whereby 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 up to the Law, which surely shee will not -suffer, their love agreeing together in such mutuall manner, and he -adventuring so dangerously for her. - -Madam _Jaquemina_, perceiving that her husband spake very reasonably, -and was no more offended at the matter; stept aside with him behinde -the drawne Curtaines, untill they should awake of themselves. 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 Love! what shall we doe? we have 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 have found -such an unbefitting way hither, we will provide you a better for your -backe returning. When _Ricciardo_ saw the Father and Mother both there -present, he could not devise 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 crave 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 unfeined love to your Daughter -_Catharina_, hath beene the onely cause of my transgressing. - -_Ricciardo_ (replyed _Messer Lizio_) the love I beare thee, and the -honest confidence I doe repose in thee, step up (in some measure) to -pleade thine excuse, especially in the regard of my Daughter, whom I -blame thee not for loving, but for this unlawfull way of presuming -to her. Neverthelesse, perceiving 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 adventure) -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 Wives Rings, before they went out -of the Gallery; _Ricciardo_ and _Catharina_ were espoused together, to -their no little joy 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, living long after in happy prosperity. - - - - -Guidotto _of Cremona, departing out of this mortall life, left a -Daughter of his, with_ Jacomino _of Pavia._ Giovanni di Severino, -_and_ Menghino da Minghole, _fell both in love with the young Maiden, -and fought for her; who being afterward knowne, to be the Sister to_ -Giovanni, _shee was given in mariage to_ Menghino. - -The fifth Novell. - -_Wherein may be observed, what quarrelse and contentions are occasioned -by Love; with some particular discription, concerning the sincerity of -a loyall friend._ - - -All the Ladies laughing heartily, at the Novell of the Nightingale, so -pleasingly delivered 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 have -made me such an amends to day, as wee have little reason to complaine -any more of you. So converting 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 Novell out of _Romania_: I meane to walke with him in -the same jurisdiction, 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 _Jacomino_ of _Pavia_, -men of sufficient entrance into yeeres, having followed the warres -(as Souldiers) all their youthful time. _Guidotto_ feeling sicknesse -to over-master him, and having no sonne, kinsman, or friend, in whom -he might repose more trust, then hee did in _Jacomino_: having 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 enjoyed, and then departed -out of this life. It came to passe, that the City of _Faenza_, long -time being molested with tedious warres, and subjected to very servile -condition; beganne now to recover her former strength, with free -permission (for all such as pleased) to returne and possesse their -former dwellings. Whereupon, _Jacomino_ (having sometime beene an -inhabitant there) was desirous to live in _Faenza_ againe, convaying -thither all his goods, and taking with him also the young girle, which -_Guidotto_ had left him, whom hee loved, 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, -civill, and honest demeanour, which incited many amorously to affect -her. But (above all the rest) two very honest young men, of good -fame and repute, who were so equally in love addicted to her, that -being jealous of each others fortune, in preventing of their severall -hopefull expectation; a deadly hatred grew suddenly betweene them, -the one being named, _Giovanni de Severino_, 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 give no consent thereto: wherefore, perceiving their -honest intended meaning to be frustrated, they now began to busie their -braines, how to forestall one another by craft and circumvention. - -_Jacomino_ had a Maide-servant belonging to his House, somewhat aged, -and a Man-servant beside, named _Grivello_, of mirthfull disposition, -and very friendly, with whom _Giovanni_ grew in great familiarity; and -when he found time fit for the purpose, he discovered his love to him, -requesting his furtherance and assistance, in compassing the height -of his desire, with bountifull promises of rich rewarding; whereto -_Grivello_ 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 never will stay to heare me. Wherefore, if my service this -way may doe you any good, I promise to performe it; doe you beside, as -you shall find it most convenient for you. So the bargaine was agreed -on betweene them, and nothing elsee now remained, but to what issue it -should sort in the end. - -_Menghino_, on the other side, having entred into the Chamber-maides -acquaintance, sped so well with her, that shee delivered 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 -have conference with her, whensoever her Master should be absent from -home. Thus _Menghino_ being favoured (on the one side) by the olde -Chamber-maide, and _Giovanni_ (on the other) by trusty _Grivello_; -their amorous warre was now on foote, and diligently followed by both -their sollicitors. Within a short while after, by the procurement of -_Grivello, Jacomino_ was invited by a neighbour to supper, in company -of divers his very familiar friends, whereof intelligence being given to -_Giovanni_; a conclusion passed betweene them, that (upon a certaine -signale given) he should come, and finde the doore standing ready open, -to give him all accesse unto the affected Mayden. - -The appointed night being come, and neither of these hot Lovers 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 provided, 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 -given: but _Giovanni_ and his consorts, were ambushed somewhat further -off from the House, and both saw when _Jacomino_ went foorth to supper. -Now _Grivello_ and the Chamber-maide began to vary, which should -send the other out of the way, till they had effected their severall -intention; whereupon _Grivello_ 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 _Grivello_ remembring himselfe, that the houre of his appointment -with _Giovanni_ 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 revenged on her when I list. So, having made the -signall, he went to open the doore, even when _Giovanni_ (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, upon this mutinous noyse and out-cry, -the Neighbours came foorth of their Houses, with lights, staves, and -clubbes, greatly reproving them for this out-rage, yet assisting -_Menghino_: by meanes whereof, after a long time of contention, -_Menghino_ recovered the Mayden from _Giovanni_, and placed her -peaceably in _Jacominoes_ House. - -No sooner was this hurly-burly somewhat calmed, but the Serjeants to -the Captaine of the City, came thither, and apprehended divers of -the mutiners: among whom were _Menghino, Giovanni,_ and _Grivello_, -committing them immediately to prison. But after every thing was -pacified, and _Jacomino_ returned home to his House from supper; he -was not a little offended at so grosse an injury. When he was fully -informed, how the matter happened, and apparantly perceived, that -no blame at all could be imposed on the Mayden: he grew the better -contented, resolving with himselfe (because no more such inconveniences -should happen) to have her married so soone as possibly he could. - -When morning was come, the kindred and friends on either side, -understanding the truth of the error committed, and knowing beside, -what punishment would be inflicted on the prisoners, if _Jacomino_ -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 unruly and youthfull people, meerely -drawne into the action by perswasion of friends; submitting both -themselves, and the offendors, to such satisfaction as he pleased to -appoint them. _Jacomino_, who had seene and observed many things in his -time, and was a man of sound understanding, 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 service, but even as you shall please to command -me. But plainely, and without all further ceremonious complement, I -must agree to whatsoever you can request; as thinking you to be more -injured by me, then any great wrong that I have sustained. Concerning -the young Damosell remaining in my House, shee is not (as many have -imagined) either of _Cremona_, or _Pavia_, but borne a _Faentine_, -here in this Citie: albeit neither my selfe, shee, or he of whom I had -her, did ever 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 native of your owne, doe right to her, and then you -can doe no wrong unto mee. - -When the Gentlemen understood, that the Mayden was borne in _Faenza_, -they marvelled thereat, and after they had thanked _Jacomino_ 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, perceiving them attentive to heare him, began in -this manner. - -Understand 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 utterly forsaken of the dwellers, onely this poore -Mayden excepted, being then aged but two yeeres, or thereabout. As hee -mounted up the steps, with intent to depart from the House; she called -him Father, which word moved 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 -convenient for mariage, yet I could never find any one to bestow her -on, at least that I thought fitting for her: howbeit, I will listen -thereto much more respectively, 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 _Jacomino_ 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 _Jacomino_ -speaketh. 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 ever thou sawest any scarre or marke about her, which may revive thy -former knowledge of her, for my minde perswades me, that the Maide is -thy Daughter. - -_Bernardino_ musing a while with himselfe, remembred, that under her -left eare, 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 _Jacomino_ (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 moved; 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 _Jacomino_ to be so pleased, as to lift up a little the lockes -of haire, depending over her left eare. _Jacomino_ did it presently, -albeit with a modest blushing in the maide, and _Bernardino_ looking -advisedly on it, knew it to be the selfe same crosse; which confirmed -her constantly to be his Daughter. - -Overcome with excesse of joy, which made the teares to trickle downe -his cheekes, he proffered to embrace and kisse the Maide: but she -resisting his kindnesse, because (as yet) shee knew no reason for it, -he turned himselfe to _Jacomino_, saying. My deare brother and friend, -this Maide is my Daughter, and my House was the same which _Guidotto_ -spoyled, in the generall havocke 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 elsee she had perished in the fire, because the House was -instantly burnt downe to the ground. The Mayden hearing his words, -observing him also to be a man of yeeres and gravity: shee beleeved -what he saide, and humbly submitted her selfe to his kisses & embraces, -even 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, gave -her most gracious and kind welcome, he receiving her from _Jacomino_ 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 _Giovanni_, then his prisoner, -was the Son to _Bernardino_, and naturall Brother to the newly -recovered 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 loving league of peace was confirmed -betweene _Giovanni_ and _Menghino_, to whom (with free and full consent -on all sides) the faire Maide, named _Agatha_, was given in marriage, -with a more honourable enlargement of her dowry, and _Grivello_, with -the rest, delivered out of prison, which for their tumultuous riot they -had justly deserved. _Menghino_ and _Agatha_ had their wedding worthily -sollemnized, with all due honours belonging thereto; and long time -after they lived in _Faenza_, highly beloved, and graciously esteemed. - - - - -Guion di Procida, _being found familiarly conversing with a young -Damosell, which he loved; and had been given (formerly) to_ Frederigo, -_King of Sicilie: was bound to a stake; to be consumed with fire. From -which danger (neverthelesse) he escaped, being knowne by_ Don Rogiero -de Oria, _Lord Admirall of Sicilie, and afterward married the Damosell._ - -The sixth Novell. - -_Wherein is manifested, that love can leade a man into numberlesse -perils: out of which he escapeth with no meane difficulty._ - - -The Novell of Madam _Neiphila_ being ended, which proved 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 prevailing -powers of love, conducting amorous soules into infinite travelse, with -inconveniences no way avoidable, and not easily to be foreseene, or -prevented. As partly already hath beene observed, by divers of our -former Novelse 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) -lived a faire and lovely 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 love 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 gave him leave; 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 elsee, -yet to behold the walles that enclosed his Mistresse thus. - -While this love continued in equall fervency, it chanced upon a faire -Summers day, that _Restituta_ walked alone upon the Sea-shoare, going -from Rocke to Rocke, having 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 adjoining to it, and thither (at -that very instant time) certaine Sicilian young Gentlemen, which came -from _Naples_, had made their retreate. They perceiving the Gentlewoman -to be very beautifull (shee as yet not having 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 arrived 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 resolved, to bestow her as a -rich present, on _Frederigo_ King of _Sicilie_, who was then young & -joviall, 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 Loves: but, being at that time empaired -in his health, and his body much distempered by ill dyet; he gave -command, that untill 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 greevance of all, was, -that it could not be knowne how, by whom, or by what meanes. But _Guion -di Procida_, whom this injury 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, even from _Minerva_, unto the _Scalea_ in _Calabria_, searching -for his lost Love in every angle: at length it was tolde him at the -_Scalea_, that shee was carried away by certaine _Sicillian_ Marriners, -to _Palermo_, whither _Guion_ set sayle immediately. - -After some diligent search made there, he understood, that she was -delivered to the King, and he had given strict command, for keeping -her in his place of pleasure; called the _Cube_: which newes were not -a little greevous to him, for now he was almost quite out of hope, not -onely of ever enjoying her, but also of seeing her. Neverthelesse, Love -would not let him utterly despaire, whereupon he sent away his Barque, -and perceiving himselfe to be unknowne 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 used to doe, Fortune -was so favourable to him, as to let him have 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_ observing, that the _Cube_ was -seated in a place of small resort; approached so neere as possibly he -durst, to have some conference with _Restituta_. - -As Love sets a keene edge on the dullest spirit, and (by a small -advantage) makes a man the more adventurous: so this little time of -unseene talke, inspired him with courage, and her with witty advice, -by what meanes his accesse might be much neerer to her, and their -communication concealed from any discovery, 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 convenient, he returned thither againe, provided of such -grappling-yrons, as is required when men will clamber, made fast unto -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 given him instruction, and rearing -it up against her chamber window, made that his meanes for ascending -thereto, shee having left it open for his easier entrance. - -You cannot denie (faire Ladies) but here was a very hopefull beginning, -and likely to have as happy an ending, were it not true Loves fatall -misery, even in the very height of promised assurance, to be thwarted -by unkind prevention, and in such manner as I will tell you. This -night, intended for our Lovers meeting, proved disastrous and dreadfull -to them both: for the King, who at the first sight of _Restituta_, was -highly pleased with her excelling beauty; gave 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 _Guion_ aloft at the window, calling softly to -his Mistresse, as if she had beene there; but he was over-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 avouching, 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 -justified the goodnesse of his cause: _Restituta_ likewise was sent -for, who no sooner saw her deare Love _Guion_, but shee ran and caught -him fast about the necke, kissing him in teares, and greeving 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 having himselfe seene, by what strange meanes he did climbe over -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 conveyed 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 Lovers, as the -uncivill and unsightly 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, even the whole City of _Palermo_, both men and -women. The men were stricken with admiration, beholding the unequalled -beauty of faire _Restituta_, & the selfe same passion possessed the -women, seeing _Guion_ to be such a goodly and compleat young man: but -the poore infortunate Lovers themselves, they stood with their lookes -dejected 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 lives 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 observed 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, advisedly beholding poore condemned _Guion_, -conceived, that he had somewhat seene him before this instant, and upon -this perswasion (even as if divine vertue had tutured his tongue) he -saide: Is not thy name _Guion di Procida_? - -Marke now, how quickly misery can receive comfort, upon so poore -and silly a question; for _Guion_ began to elevate his dejected -countenance, and looking on the Admirall, returned him this answere. -Sir, heretofore I have 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 unkindly crost thee? Love (answered _Guion_) and -the Kings displeasure. Then the Admirall would needs know the whole -history at large, which briefly was related to him, and having 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 favour 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 love 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, untill they heard more from the -King, to whom hee gallopped immediately, and although hee beheld him -to be very angerly moved; yet he spared not to speake in this manner. -Sir, wherein have 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. Beleeve me Sir, -if true love be an offence, then theirs may be termed to be one; and -albeit it did deserve death, yet farre be it from thee to inflict it on -them: for as faults doe justly 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 over-violently transported with anger. - -The young Gentleman, is the Sonne to _Landolfo di Procida_, the onely -Brother to Lord _John 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 preserve -thy prerogative in _Ischia_, which (but for him) had long since beene -out-rooted there. Beside, these two maine motives, to challenge justly -grace and favour from thee; they are in the floure and pride of their -youth, having long continued in loyall love together, and compelled by -fervency of endeared affection, not any will to displease thy Majesty: -they have offended (if it may be termed an offence to love, and in such -lovely 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 beleeved 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 have them released from the Stake, -and honourably to be brought before him. Being thus enstructed in their -severall qualities, and standing in duty obliged, to recompence the -wrong which he had done, with respective honours: he caused them to -be cloathed in royall garments, and knowing them to be knit in unity -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 joy and comfort -received, and lived long after in great felicity. - - - - -Theodoro _falling in love with_ Violenta, _the Daughter to his Master, -named_ Amarigo, _and shee conceiving 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 enjoyed_ Violenta _in -marriage._ - -The seventh Novell. - -_Wherein is declared, the sundry travelse and perillous accidents, -occasioned by those two powerfull Commanders, Love and Fortune, the -insulting Tyrants over humaine life._ - - -Greatly were the Ladies minds perplexed, when they heard, that the two -poore Lovers were in danger to be burned: but hearing afterward of -their happy deliverance, for which they were as joyfull againe; upon -the concluding of the Novell, the Queene looked on Madam _Lauretta_, -enjoyning her to tell the next Tale, which willingly she undertooke to -doe, and thus began. - -Faire Ladies, at such time as the good King _William_ reigned in -_Sicily_, there lived 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 -unfurnished of children; and therefore having neede of servants, he -made his provision 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 divers 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 lived in the condition of a servant) 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 proved 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 over-long kept from marriage by her -Fathers covetousnesse, and casting an eye of good liking on poore -_Pedro_. Now, albeit shee loved him very dearely, and all his behaviour -was most pleasing to her, yet maiden modesty forbad her to reveale it, -till Love (too long concealed) must needes disclose itselfe. 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 observed it, -and to her no meane contentment, as it appeared no lesse (on the other -side) to honest _Pedro_. - -While thus they loved 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, even as if shee -pittied their so long languishing, enstructed them how to find out -a way, whereby they might both better releeve themselves. _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, used 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 -over-clouded, even as they were returning home towards _Trapani_, -threatning a storme of raine to overtake 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 provoked -by love, 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 themselves in a poore Countrey-mans Cottage. _Pedro_ -and _Violenta_, having no other refuge, ranne likewise into a poore -Sheepe-coate, so over 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 coveting to avoide it so well as they could; sighes and drie -hemmes were often inter-vented, 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 never -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 Lovers soules; so that the raine ceased not, -till they had taken order for their oftner conversing, and absolute -plighting of their faithes together. By this time the storme was -fairely over-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 provident meanes, they often conferred in private together, -and enjoyed the benefit of their amorous desires; yet free from any ill -surmise or suspition. - -But, as Lovers 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 proved -to be conceived with childe, then which could befall them no heavier -affliction, and _Pedro_ fearing to loose his life therefore, determined -immediate flight, and revealed 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 Love (quoth _Pedro_) with what reason can -you wish my tarrying here? This conception of yours, doth discover our -offence, which a Fathers pity may easily pardon in you: but I being -his servant and vassall, shall be punished both for your sinne and -mine, because he will have 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 loving 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 prove 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 discovered; went -privately to her Mother, and (in teares) revealed her infirmity, humbly -craving 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 -beleeving, and willing to preserve her Daughter from shame, as also the -fierce anger of her Husband, he being a man of very implacable nature: -conveyed her to the Countrey-Farme, whither _Signior Amarigo_ sildome -or never resorted, intending (under the shadow of sicknesse) to let her -lie in there, without the least suspition of any in _Trapani_. - -Sinne and shame can never be so closely carried, or clouded with the -greatest cunning; but truth hath a loop-light whereby to discover it, -even when it supposeth it selfe in the surest safety. For, on the -very day of her deliverance, at such time as the Mother, and some -few friends (sworne to secrecy) were about the businesse: _Signior -Amarigo_, having beene in company of other Gentlemen, to flye his -Hawke at the River, upon a sudden, (but very unfortunately, albeit -he was alone by himselfe) stept into his Farme house, even to the -next roome where the women were, and heard the new-borne Babe to cry, -whereat marvelling 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 never before he had used to doe, and pittying -the wofull distresse of her Daughter, which now could be no longer -covered, revealed 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 conceived with childe, because he never observed -the least signe of love in her to any man whatsoever, and therefore he -would be satisfied in the truth, as shee expected any favour from him, -for elsee there was no other way but death. - -The Mother laboured by all meanes shee could devise, to pacifie her -Husbands fury, which proved 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 delivered of a goodly Sonne) he said -unto 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 discovered 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 -injury which _Pedro_ had done him, to a noble Gentleman, named _Signior -Conrado_, who was Captaine for the King over the City. - -Before poore _Pedro_ could have 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 lives of -the two poore Lovers, but their childes also; as a franticke man, -violently carried from all sense of compassion, even when _Pedro_ was -led and whipt to his death: he mingled strong poyson in a Cup of wine, -delivering it to a trusty servant 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 severall kinds of death are offered unto 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 deserved. When thou hast delivered 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 given this cruell sentence, both against his own -Daughter, and her young Sonne, the servant, readier to doe evill, -then any good, went to the place where his Daughter was kept. Poore -condemned _Pedro_, (as you have heard) was ledde whipt to the Jybbet, -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 journey, 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 upward, and his hands bound fast -behind him, but being well observed by one of the Ambassadours, a man -aged, and of great authority, named _Phineo_: he espied a great red -spot uppon his breast, not painted, or procured by his punishment, but -naturally imprinted in the flesh, which women (in these parts) terme -the Rose. Uppon the sight hereof, he suddenly remembred a Sonne of -his owne, which was stolne from him about fifteene yeeres before, by -Pyrates on the Sea-coast of _Laiazzo_, never hearing any tydings of him -afterward. Upon 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 living, 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. - -Moreover, thus he conceived, that if it were he, he could not but -remember his owne name, his Fathers, and the Armenian Language; -wherefore, when hee was just opposite before the window, hee called -aloud to him, saying: _Theodoro. Pedro_ hearing the voyce, presently -listed up his head, and _Phineo_ speaking _Armenian_, saide: Of whence -art thou, and what is thy Fathers name? The Sergeants (in reverence 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 joy: 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 unto them; which very willingly they promised to doe. - -Already, by the generall rumour dispersed abroade, _Phineo_ had -understood 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 have sent to death as a slave, is -a free Gentleman borne, and my Sonne, able to make her amends whom -he hath dishonoured, by taking her in mariage as his lawfull Wife. -Let me therefore entreate you, to make stay of the execution, untill -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 error, 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 beleeved 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 have it done at all. He who -went on this speedy errand, found there _Signior Amarigoes_ servant -standing before _Violenta_, with the Cup of poyson in his one hand, -and the drawne Rapier in the other, reproaching herewith very foule -and injurious speeches, because shee had delayed the time so long, and -would not accept the one or other, striving (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 severity, and craving 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 every -minute when he should die, yet joyfull that he had found his Father, -who presently moved the question to him. _Theodoro_ hearing that -_Violenta_ should be his Wife, if he would so accept her: was overcome -with such exceeding joy, 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 understand 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 above all in happinesse, if she might be wife -to her beloved _Theodoro_, submitting herselfe 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 up 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 reverence him as -her owne naturall Father, and he was not a little proud of so lovely 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 lived long in much tranquility. - - - - -Anastasio, _a Gentleman of the Family of the_ Honesti, _by loving -the Daughter to_ Signior Paulo Traversario, _lavishly wasted a great -part of his substance, without receiving any love 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 gave her to be -devoured by his Hounds._ Anastasio _invited his friends, and hers -also whom he so dearely loved, to take part of a dinner with him, who -likewise saw the same Damosell so torne in peeces: which his unkind -Love perceiving, and fearing least the like ill fortune should happen -to her; shee accepted_ Anastasio _to be her Husband._ - -The eighth Novell. - -_Declaring, that Love not onely makes a man prodigall, but also an -enemy to himselfe. Moreover, adventure oftentimes bringeth such matters -to passe, as wit and cunning in man can never comprehend._ - - -So soone as Madam _Lauretta_ held her peace, Madam _Philomena_ (by the -Queenes command) began, and saide. Lovely Ladies, as pitty is most -highly commended in our Sexe, even so is cruelty in us as severely -revenged (oftentimes) by divine ordination. Which that you may the -better know, and learne likewise to shun, as a deadly evill; I purpose -to make apparant by a Novell, no lesse full of compassion, then -delectable. - -_Ravenna_ 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 Unkle 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 Traversario_, one of the most ancient and noble -Families in all the Countrey. Nor made he any doubt, but by his meanes -and industrious endeavour, to derive affection from her againe; for -hee carried himselfe like a brave 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, howsoever Fortune became his enemy, these laudable parts of -manhood did not any way friend him, but rather appeared hurtfull to -him: so cruell, unkind, and almost meerely savage 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 uncivill usage in her, grew very distastefull to -_Anastasio_, and so unsufferable, that after a long time of fruitlesse -service, 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; & governed by more manly -consideration, determined, that as she hated him, he would requite her -with the like, if he could: wherein he became altogether deceived, -because as his hopes grew to a dayly decaying, yet his love enlarged it -selfe more and more. - -Thus _Anastasio_ persevering still in his bootelesse affection, and -his expences not limited within any compasse; it appeared in the -judgement 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 advised him to leave the City of _Ravenna_, and live in some other -place for such a while; as might set a more moderate stint upon his -spendings, and bridle the indiscreete course of his love, 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 -were to set thence for _France_ or _Spaine_, or elsee into some further -distant countrey: he mounted on horsebacke, and accompanied with some -few of his familiar friends, departed from _Ravenna_, 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 (upon a very -goodly greene) erecting divers Tents and Pavillions, such as great -persons make use 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 unto _Ravenna_, 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 ever he had done before, inviting divers to dine -with him this day, and as many to morrow, and not to leave him till -after supper: upon the sodaine, falling into remembrance of his cruell -Mistris, hee commanded all his servants to forbeare his company, and -suffer him to walke alone by himselfe awhile, because he had occasion -of private 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, having gone some halfe miles distance from his -Tents, entred into a Grove of Pine-trees, never minding dinner time, or -any thing elsee, but only the unkind requitall of his love. - -Sodainly he heard the voice of a woman, seeming to make most mournfull -complaints, which breaking of his silent considerations, made him -to lift up his head, to know the reason of this noise. When he saw -himselfe so farre entred into the Grove, 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 upward, her haire dishevelled 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, giving her very vile and dreadfull -speeches, and threatning everie minute to kill her. - -This strange and uncouth sight, bred in him no meane admiration, -as also kinde compassion to the unfortunate woman; out of which -compassion, sprung an earnest desire, to deliver her (if he could) -from a death so full of anguish and horror: but seeing himselfe to -be without Armes, hee ran and pluckt up 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 justly -deserved. And in speaking these words, the Hounds tooke fast hold on -her body, so staying her, untill the Knight was come neerer to her, -and alighted from his horse: when _Anastasio_ (after some other angry -speeches) spake thus unto 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 savage beast; therefore beleeve 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 Unckle) became as intirely -in love with this woman, as now thou art of _Paulo Traversarioes_ -daughter. But through her coy disdaine and cruelty, such was my heavy -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, rejoycing -immeasurably in mine unhappie death, remained no long time alive after -me, and for her mercilesse sinne of cruelty, and taking pleasure in my -oppressing torments; dying unrepentant, 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 Judges, imposed this further infliction on -us both; namely, that shee should flye in this manner before mee, and I -(who loved her so deerely while I lived) must pursue her as my deadly -enemy, not like a woman that had any taste of love in her. And so often -as I can overtake her, I am to kill her with this sword, the same -Weapon wherewith I slew my selfe. Then am I enjoyned, 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 give unto my hounds to -feede on. Afterward, such is the appointment of the supreame powers, -that she re-assumeth life againe, even 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. Every Friday, -and just at this houre, our course is this way, where shee suffereth -the just punishment inflicted on her. Nor do we rest any of the other -dayes, but are appointed unto other places, where she cruelly executed -her malice against me, being now (of her dear affectionate friend) -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 divine justice; for all -thy interposition is but in vaine, in seeking to crosse the appointment -of supreame powers. - -_Anastasio_ having attentively heard all this discourse, his haire -stoode upright like Porcupines quils, and his soule was so shaken with -the terror, that he stept back to suffer the Knight to doe what he was -enjoyned, looking yet with milde commiseration 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 bowelse, which instantly he threw to the dogges, and they -devoured them very greedily. Soone after, the Damosell (as if none of -this punishment had bene inflicted on her) started up 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 observed 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 deceived servants. -Forthwith hee perswaded himself, that he might make good use of this -womans tormenting, so justly imposed on the Knight to prosecute, if -thus it should continue still every Friday. Wherefore, setting a good -note or marke upon the place, hee returned backe to his owne people, -and at such time as hee thought convenient, sent for divers of his -kindred and friends from _Ravenna_, who being present with him, thus -hee spake to them. - -Deare Kinsmen and Friends, ye have a long while importuned mee, to -discontinue my over doating love to her, whom you all think, and I -find to be my mortall enemy: as also, to give over my lavish expences, -wherein I confesse my selfe too prodigal; both which requests of -yours, I will condiscend to, provided, that you will performe one -gracious favour for mee; Namely, that on Friday next, Signior _Paulo -Traversario_, 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 -mooving mee, you shall then more at large be acquainted withall. This -appeared no difficult matter for them to accomplish: wherefore, being -returned to _Ravenna_, and as they found the time answerable to their -purpose, they invited such as _Anastasio_ had appointed them. And -although they found it somewhat an 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_ provided, and the tables -were covered under 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 unkinde Mistresse, sate with her face opposite -unto the place, where the dismall spectacle was to be seene. About the -closing up of dinner, they beganne to heare the noise of the poore -prosecuted Woman, which drove them all to much admiration; desiring -to know what it was, and no one resolving 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 horseback, gallopping fiercely after them with his drawn weapon, -and came very nere unto the company, who cryed out with lowd exclaimes -against the dogs and the Knight, stepping forth in assistance of the -injuried woman. - -The Knight spake unto 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 unfortunate Woman, and likewise to the Knight, remembring -well both his love and death, did shed teares as plentifully, as if it -had bin to the very persons themselves, in visiall performance of the -action indeede. Which tragicall Scene being passed over, and the Woman -and Knight gone out of their sight: all that had seene this straunge -accident, fell into diversity 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 -observed 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 unkinde and cruell she had shewn her selfe to _Anastasio_, -even as the other Gentlewoman formerly did to her Lover, 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 prevent the like heavy 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 love, 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 give 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 -favour 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 uppon the Sunday next following, the mariage was very worthily -sollemnized, and they lived and loved together very kindly. Thus the -divine 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 -conversion, of a Maide so obstinately scornfull and proud: but likewise -al the women of _Ravenna_ (being admonished by her example) grew -afterward more kinde and tractable to mens honest motions, then ever -they shewed themselves before. And let me make some use hereof (faire -Ladies) to you, not to stand over-nicely conceited of your beauty and -good parts, when men (growing enamored of you by them) solicite you -with their best and humblest services. Remember then this disdainfull -Gentlewoman, but more especially her, who being the death of so kinde a -Lover, 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 service. - - - - -Frederigo, _of the_ Alberighi _Family, loved a Gentlewoman, and was -not requited with like love againe. By bountifull expences, and over -liberall invitations, he wasted and consumed all his lands and goods, -having nothing left him, but a Hawke or Faulcon. His unkinde Mistresse -happeneth to come visite him, and he not having 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 Novell. - -_Wherein is figured to the life, the notable kindnesse and courtesie, -of a true and constant Lover: As also the magnanimous minde of a famous -Lady._ - - -Madame _Philomena_ having finished her discourse, the Queene -perceiving, that her turne was the next, in regard of the priviledge -granted to _Dioneus_; with a smiling countenance thus she spake. Now or -never am I to maintaine the order which was instituted when we beganne -this commendable exercise, whereto I yeeld with all humble obedience. -And (worthy Ladies) I am to acquaint you with a Novell, in some sort -answerable to the precedent, not onely to let you know, how powerfully -your kindnesses do prevaile, in such as have a free and gentle soule: -but also to advise you, in being bountifull, where vertue doth justly -chalenge it. And evermore, let your favours shine on worthy deservers, -without the direction of chaunce or Fortune, who never bestoweth any -gift by discretion; but rashly without consideration, even to the first -she blindly meets withall. - -You are to understand then, that _Coppo di Borghese Domenichi_, who -was of our owne City, and perhaps (as yet) his name remaineth in great -and reverend authority, now in these dayes of ours, as well deserving -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 conversation among -his neighbours, to talke of matters concerning antiquity, and some -other things within compasse of his owne knowledge: which he would -deliver in such singular order, (having 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 us, that -sometime there lived 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 have -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, Joustes, Tiltes, Tournaments, and all -other noble actions of Armes, beside, sending her infinite rich and -costly presents, making spare of nothing, but lashing all out in lavish -expence. Notwithstanding, shee being no lesse honest then faire, made -no reckoning of whatsoever 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 live upon, the silly revenewes -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 poverty, no -way quailing his love to the Lady, but rather setting a keener edge -thereon; he saw the City life could no longer containe him, where most -he coveted 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 unto him, if he chanced to die -without a lawfull heire, hee substituted 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 -lived in such an honest kind of contented poverty. - -Hereupon, the young Gentleman her Sonne, taking great delight in -Hounds and Hawkes; grew into familiarity with poore _Frederigo_, and -having seene many faire flights of his Faulcon, they pleased him so -extraordinarily, that he earnestly desired to enjoy her as his owne; -yet durst not move 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 greeved exceedingly, -(as having no more but he, and therefore loved him the more entirely) -never 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 reveale it, and assuring him withall, that (if it were within -the compasse of possibility) he should have 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 have -_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 lovingly kept it, not suffering it ever to be out of his -sight. Moreover, shee remembred, how earnest in affection he had beene -to her, never thinking himselfe happy, but onely when he was in her -company; wherefore, shee entred into this private 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 ever flew? It is his onely -Jewell of delight, and that taken from him, no longer can he wish to -live in this World. How farre then voide of understanding shall I shew -my selfe, to rob a Gentleman of his sole felicity, having no other -joy or comfort left him? These and the like considerations, wheeled -about her troubled braine, onely in tender care and love 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 resolve, -shee returned no answer to her Sonne, but sate still in her silent -meditations. At the length, love to the youth, so prevailed 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 journey for the Faulcon, and assure thy selfe, that I will -bring it with me. Whereat the youth was so joyed, that he imagined, his -sicknesse began instantly a little to leave him, and promised him a -speedy recovery. - -Somewhat early the next morning, the Lady, in care of her sicke Sons -health, was up 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 arrivall there, he was (by chance) in a silly Garden, -on the backe-side of his House, because (as yet) it was no convenient -time for flight: but when he heard, that Madam _Giana_, was come -thither, and desired to have some conference with him; as one almost -confounded with admiration, in all haste he ran to her, and saluted her -with most humble reverence. 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 travailes, which heretofore you -pretended to suffer for my sake, when your love 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 reverence, thus he replyed. - -Madam, I doe not remember, that ever 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 deservings, and by the service in -which I did stand engaged to you. But my present happinesse can no way -bee equalled, derived from your super-abounding gracious favour, and -more then common course of kindnesse, vouchsafing (of your owne liberal -nature) to come and visit so poore a servant. Oh that I had as much to -spend againe, as heeretofore riotously I have run thorow: what a welcome -wold your poore Host bestow upon you, for gracing this homely house -with your divine presence? With these wordes, hee conducted her into -his house, and then into his simple Garden, where having no convenient -company for her, he saide. Madam, the poverty of this place is such, -that it affoordeth none fit for your conversation: 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 have stood him in some sted; yet hee had a heart as free and -forward as ever, not a jotte dejected in his minde, though utterly -overthrowne by Fortune. Alas! how was his good soule afflicted, that -he had nothing wherewith to honour his Lady? Up 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 covered 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 joyfull, that his credite was so well saved. 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 thought -to favour of a harsh, cruell, and un-womanly nature: I make no doubt, -but you will wonder at my present presumption, when you understande the -occasion, which expressely mooved me to come hither. But if you were -possessed of children, or ever had any, whereby you might comprehend -what love (in nature) is due unto them: then I durst assure my self, -that you would partly hold mee excused. - -Now, in regard that you never had any, and I my selfe (for my part) -have but 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 adverse 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 straungely 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 love you have born me, -for thereby 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 give 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 saved, and wee both shall for ever 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 service at dinner: he -stood like a man meerely dulled in his sences, the teares trickling -amaine downe his cheekes: and he not able to utter one word. Which -shee perceiving, began to conjecture 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 have it. Neverthelesse 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 devoted -to your service; Fortune hath bene crosse and contrary to mee, in -many occasions, as justly, 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 utter overthrow, and perpetuall -molestation. 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 have 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, having regard to your excellency, and what (by merit) is justly due -unto 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 having drest hir, so well -as I could devise to do: you have fed hartily on her, and I am proud -that I have so well bestowne her. But perceiving now, that you would -have her for your sicke Sonne; it is no meane affliction to mee, that I -am disabled of yeelding you contentment, which all my lifetime I have -desired to doe. - -To approve 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 whatsoever. Yet she -commended his height of spirit, which poverty had no power to abase. -Lastly, her hopes being frustrate for enjoying the Faulcon, and fearing -besides the health of her Sonne: she thanked _Frederigo_ for his -honourable kindnesse, returning home againe sad and melancholly. Shortly -after, her sonne either greeving that he could not have the Faulcone, -or by extreamity of his disease, chanced to dye, leaving his mother a -most wofull Lady. - -After so much time was expired, as conveniently might agree with sorrow -and mourning; her Brethren made many motions to her, to joyne her -selfe in marriage againe, because she was extraordinarily rich, and -as yet but yong in yeares. Now, although she was well contented never -to be married any more; yet being continually importuned by them, and -remembring the honourable 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 never leave it: but seeing you are so earnest for my -second marriage, let me plainly tell you, that I will never accept of -any other husband, but onely _Frederigo di Alberino_. - -Her brethren in scornfull manner reprooved 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 sorry for it. But give 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 poverty had disgraced him in the -Worlde: consented thereto, so she bestowed her selfe and her riches on -him. He on the other side, having so noble a Lady to his Wife, and the -same whome he had so long and deerely loved: submitted all his fairest -Fortunes unto her, became a better husband (for the world) then before, -and they lived and loved together in equall joy 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 loved) at supper -with her._ Pedro _returning whom upon a sudden, the young man was -hidden under a Coope for Hennes._ Pedro, _in excuse of his so soone -comming home, declareth, how in the House of_ Herculano _(with whom -he should have supt) a friend of his Wives was found, which was the -reason of the Suppers breaking off._ Pedroes _Wife reproving the error -of_ Herculanoes _Wife; An Asse (by chance) treads on the young mans -fingers, that lay hidden under the Hen-Coope. Uppon his crying out,_ -Pedro _steppeth thither, sees him, knowes him, and findeth the fallacy -of his Wife: with whom (neverthelesse) he groweth to agreement, in -regard of some imperfections in himselfe._ - -The tenth Novell. - -_Reprehending the cunning shifts, of light headed and immodest Women, -who, by abusing themselves, doe throw evill aspersions on all the Sexe._ - - -The Queenes Novell being ended, and all the company applauding the -happy fortune of _Frederigo_, as also the noble nature of Madam _Giana: -Dioneus_, who never expected any command, prepairing to deliver his -discourse, began in this manner. I know not, whether I should terme -it a vice accidental, and ensuing through the badnesse of complexions -uppon us mortals; or elsee an error in Nature, to joy and smile rather -at lewd accidents, then at deeds that justly deserve commendation, -especially, when they doe not any way concerne our selves. Now, in -regard that all the paines I have hitherto taken, and am also to -undergoe 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 favour a little of immodesty; yet in hearing it, you may -observe the same course, as you doe in pleasing and delightfull -Gardens, plucke a sweete Rose, and yet preserve 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 urgent necessity doth -require it. - -There dwelt (not long since) in _Perugia_, a wealthy man, named _Pedro -di Vinciolo_, who (perhaps) more to deceive some other, and restraine -an evill opinion, which the _Perugians_ had conceived 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 unkind courses, upbraided 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 private -thoughts. This Husband of mine liveth with me, as if he were no -Husband, or I his Wife; the marriage bed, which should be a comfort to -us 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 -conversation 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, elsee he had never 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 have coopt my -selfe up in a Cloyster, and shorne my selfe a Nunne, but that I was not -borne to such severity of life. My youth shall be blasted with age, -before I can truly understand 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 leave our memoriall to after times in -our race, as all our predecessours formerly have 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 living among so many temptations, which -flesh and bloud are not alwayes able to resist. Well, I meane to be -advised in this case, before I will hazard my honest reputation, either -to suspition or scandall, then which, no woman can have two heavier -enemies, and very few there are that can escape them. - -Having 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 (over and over) her -_Pater nosters_, and all the Cities holy pardons hanging at her girdle, -never talking of any thing, but the lives of the holy Fathers, or the -wounds of Saint _Frances_, all the World admiring her sanctity of -life, even as if shee were divinely inspired: this she Saint must be -our distressed womans Councellour, and having found out a convenient -season, at large she imparted all her mind to her, in some such manner -as formerly you have 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 -error in this life, then the losse of time, because it cannot be -recovered againe; and when the fiends themselves affright us, yet if -we keepe our embers still covered with warme ashes on the hearth, they -have nor any power to hurt us. If any one can truly speake thereof, -then I am able to deliver true testimony; 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 have 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 small -hearts griefe to me, that age should make me utterly 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 serve onely for mens contentation, and to bring -children, and therefore are they generally beloved, which if they -faile of, either it is by unfortunate marriage, or some imperfection -depending on nature, not through want of good will in themselves. We -have nothing in this world but what is given us, in which regard, we -are to make use of our time, and employ it the better while we have -it. For, when we grow to be old, our Husbands, yea, our very dearest -and nearest friends, will scarcely looke on us. 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 shelves. Nay, which is -worse, rimes and songs is made of us, even in meere contempt of our -age, and commendation of such as are young, the daintiest morselse -are fittest for them, and we referred to feed on the scrappes from -their trenchers, or such reversion as they can spare us. I tell thee -Daughter, thou couldst not make choyce of a meeter woman in all the -City, to whom thou mightest safely open thy minde, and knowes better -to advise thee then I doe. But remember withall, that I am poore, and -it is your part not to suffer poverty to be unsupplyed. I will make -thee partaker of all these blessed pardons, at every Altar I will say -a _Pater noster_, and an _Ave 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 invited -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 perceived, shee was almost halfe -dead with feare, and coveting to hide the young man, that her Husband -should not have any sight of him, shee had no other meanes, but in an -entry, hard by the Parlour where they purposed to have supt, stood a -Coope or Hen-pen, wherein she used to keepe her Pullen, under which he -crept, and then shee covered 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 she saide: It seemes Sir you -are a shaver at your meate, that you have made so short a supper. In -troth Wife (quoth he) I have 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 unto us we heard one sneeze, whereof at the first we made no -reckoning, untill 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 us, -and would not let us 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 perceived, 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 savour before) as made us -likewise to cough and sneeze, being no way able to refraine it. She -seeing her Husband to be much moved, excused the matter thus, that (but -a little while before) shee had whited certaine linnen with the smoake -of brimstone, as it is an usuall thing to doe, and then set the pan -into that spare place, because it should not be offensive to us. 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, even as if his heart would have split in twaine. Foorth -he pluckt him by the heeles, and perceiving how matters had past, he -saide to her. I thanke you Wife, now I see the reason, why you kept us -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 discovery -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 have 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 recovered; by the perswasion of some Neighbours comming -in: he was closely conveyed 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 perceived, that other -Women were subject to the like infirmity, and as wise for themselves, -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 serve to acquite her: but because in blaming others -errors, our owne may sometime chance to escape discovery, and cleare -us, albeit we are as guilty; in a sharpe reprehending manner, thus -she began. See Husband, here is hansome behaviour, of an holy faire -seeming, and Saint-like woman, to whom I durst have confest my sinnes, -I conceived such a religious perswasion of her lives integrity, free -from the least scruple of taxation. A woman, so farre stept into -yeeres, as shee is, to give such an evill 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 given; an universall shame and slaunder, to -all the good women of our City. - -Shall I terme her a woman, or rather some savage monster in a womans -shape? Hath shee not made am 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 elsee in the City doe their wives; what an -heart-breake must this needes be to him, good man? Neither I, nor any -honest man elsee, ought to have 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 under the Hen-coope; shee began to advise her -Husband, that he would be pleased to goe to bed, because the night -passed on apace. But _Pedro_, having a better will to eate, then to -sleepe, desired her to let him have some meate, else hee must goe to -bed with an empty bellie; whereto shee answered. Why Husband (quoth -shee) do I make any large provision, 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 over-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, having their Asses -laden with such provision, as was to be used in his City-house. When -the Asses were unladen, and set up 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 under the Hen-pen. Now, he being -constrained (like a Carpe) to lie flat on his belly, because the Coope -was over-weighty for him to carry, and one of his hands more extended -forth, then was requisite for him in so urgent 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 removed not his foote, but rather trod the -more firmely on his hand. Comming to the Coope, driving thence the -Asse, and taking off the old sacke, he espyed the young man, who, -beside the painfull anguish he felt of his fingers, arose up 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 doe 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; wherein the youth fully resolved -him. - -_Pedro_ being no lesse joyfull 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 use (even now) against the wife of _Herculano_, -maintaining that shee had shamed all other women, and justly deserved -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 urged you thereto, but that all women are of one and the same -condition, covering their owne grosse faults by farre inferiour -infirmities in others. You are a perverse generation, meerely false in -your fairest shewes. - -When she saw that he offered her no other violence, but gave 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, dissembling hypocrite? yet she can have of him -whatsoever she desireth, and he useth her as a woman ought to be, which -favour I could never 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 every way as necessarily required, both for the preservation -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 leave some remembrance of woman-hood behind me. I tell thee plainly -_Pedro_, I am a woman as others are, and subject 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 endeavour thou to win the worthy title of a Father, because I was -made to be a Mother. - -When _Pedro_ perceived, that his Wife had spoken nothing but reason, -in regard of his over-much neglect towards her, and not using 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 -anything, 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 forgiven, let us to supper, and we are all friends. -She seeing his anger was so well appeased, lovingly kissed him, and -laying the cloth, set on the supper, which shee had provided for her -selfe & the youth, and so they supt together merrily, not one unkind -word passing betweene them. After supper, the youth was sent away in -friendly manner, and _Pedro_ was alwayes afterward more loving to his -Wife, then formerly he had been, and no complaint passed on either -side, but mutuall joy and houshold contentment, such as ought to be -betweene man and wife. - -_Dioneus_ having ended his Tale, for which the Ladies returned him no -thankes, but rather angerly frowned on him: the Queene, knowing that -her government 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_ having received 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 have long since heard, that with witty words, ready answers, and -sudden jests or taunts, many have checkt & reproved 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, have encountred a scorner in his owne intention, and layed -the blame where it justly belonged. Every one commended the Queenes -appointment, because it savoured of good wit and judgement; and the -Queene being risen, they were all discharged till supper time, falling -to such severall exercises as themselves best fancyed. - -When supper was ended, and the instruments layed before them; by the -Queenes consent, Madam _Æmillia_ undertooke the daunce, and the Song -was appointed to _Dioneus_, who began many, but none that proved to any -liking, they were so palpably obscene and idle, savouring 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 deprivde of sweete attention? - Thoughts, have you lost your quiet silent sleeping? - Wit, who hath robde thee of thy rare invention? - The lacke of these, being life and motion giving: - Are sencelesse shapes, and no true signes of living. - - Eyes, when you gazde upon her Angell beauty; - Eares, while you heard her sweete delicious straines, - Thoughts (sleeping then) did yet performe their duty, - Wit, then tooke sprightly pleasure in his paines. - While shee did live, 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 -themselves to their Chambers, where we will leave them till to morrow -morning. - - -_The end of the Fifth Day._ - - -FINIS. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Decameron (Day 1 to Day 5), by -Giovanni Boccaccio - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DECAMERON (DAY 1 TO DAY 5) *** - -***** This file should be named 52617-8.txt or 52617-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/6/1/52617/ - -Produced by Clare Graham and Marc D'Hooghe at -http://www.freeliterature.org (Images generously made -available by the Internet Archive.) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Decameron (Day 1 to Day 5) - Containing an hundred pleasant Novels - -Author: Giovanni Boccaccio - -Translator: John Florio - -Release Date: July 22, 2016 [EBook #52617] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DECAMERON (DAY 1 TO DAY 5) *** - - - - -Produced by Clare Graham and Marc D'Hooghe at -http://www.freeliterature.org (Images generously made -available by the Internet Archive.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 576px;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="576" alt="Titlepage Decameron 1" /> -</div> - -<h1>THE<br /> -DECAMERON</h1> - -<h2>CONTAINING<br /> -An hundred pleasant<br /> -Novels.</h2> - -<h3><i>Wittily discoursed, betweene<br /> -seaven Honourable Ladies, and<br /> -three Noble Gentlemen.</i></h3> - -<h4>London, printed by<br /> -Isaac Jaggard,<br /> -1620.</h4> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="The_Epistle_Dedicatory" id="The_Epistle_Dedicatory">The Epistle Dedicatory.</a></h2> - - -<h4>TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, -<span class="smcap">Sir Phillip Herbert</span>, Knight -of the Bath at the Coronation of our Soveraigne Lord -King James, Lord Baron of Sherland, Earle of -Montgomery, and Knight of the most Noble -Order of the Garter, &c.</h4> - - -<p><i>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:</i> By resorting -to the dead, and having familiar -conversation with them. <i>Intimating -thereby:</i> The reading of ancient -and moderne Histories, and endeavouring to learne -such good instructions, as have bene observed in our Predecessors. -<i>A Question also was mooved by great King</i> Ptolomy, -<i>to one of the learned wise Interpreters. In what occasions a King -should exercise himselfe, whereto thus hee replyed:</i> To know -those things which formerly have bin done: And to read -Bookes of those matters which offer themselves dayly, or -are fittest for our instant affaires. And lastly, in seeking -those things whatsoever, that make for a Kingdomes preservation, -and the correction of evill manners or examples.</p> - -<p><i>Upon these good and warrantable grounds (most Noble Lord) -beside many more of the same Nature, which I omit, to avoide 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 gravity and gray-headed -age speaketh maturely in them, to the no meane admiration of -common and vulgar judgement. As contrariwise, such as are ignorant -of things done and past, before themselves had any being: continue -still in the estate of children, able to speake or behave themselves -no otherwise; and, even within the bounds of their Native -Countries (in respect of knowledge or manly capacity) they are no -more then well-seeming dumbe Images.</i></p> - -<p><i>In due consideration of the precedent allegations, and uppon 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, -under your Noble patronage and defence, to be safely sheelded from -foule-mouthed slander and detraction, which is too easily throwne -upon the very best deserving labours.</i></p> - -<p><i>I know (most worthy Lord) that many of them have (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 -favouring of his singular morall applications. For, as it was his -full scope and ayme, by discovering all Vices in their ugly deformities, -to make their mortall enemies (the sacred Vertues) to shine -the clearer, being set downe by them, and compared with them: so -every true and upright judgement, in observing the course of these -well-carried Novels, shall plainly perceive, that there is no spare -made of reproofe in any degree whatsoever, where sin is embraced, -and grace neglected; but the just deserving shame and punishment -thereon inflicted, that others may be warned by their example. In -imitation of witty</i> Æsope; <i>who reciteth not a Fable, but graceth it -with a judicious morall application; as many other worthy Writers -have done the like.</i></p> - -<p><i>For instance, let me heere insert one. A poore man, having a pike -staffe on his shoulder, and travailing thorow a Countrey Village, a -great Mastive 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 Judge, alledged, that he had slaine his servant, -which defended his life, house, and goods, and therefore challenged -satisfaction. The Judge leaning more in favour to the Plaintiffe, -as being his friend, neighbour, and familiar, then to the justice -and equity of the cause; reprooved the poore fellow somewhat sharpely, -and peremptorily commanded him, to make satisfaction, or els he -would commit him to prison. That were injustice replyed the poore -man, because I kilde the dogge in defence of mine owne life, which -deserveth much better respect then a million of such Curres. Sirra, -sirra, saide the Judge, then you should have turned the other end of -your staffe, and not the pike, so the dogges life had beene saved, and -your owne in no danger. True Sir (quoth the fellow) if the dog would -have turn'd his taile, and bit mee with that, and not his teeth, then -we both had parted quietly.</i></p> - -<p><i>I know your honour to be so truly judicious, that your selfe can -make the moral 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 uttermost endeavours, to bee alwayes -ready at your service.</i></p> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="The_Authors_Prologue_to_the_Lords_Ladies" id="The_Authors_Prologue_to_the_Lords_Ladies"><i>The Authors Prologue, to the Lords, Ladies, -and Gentlewomen.</i></a></h2> - - -<p>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 having -already stood in neede of comfort, do therefore most -needfully deserve to enjoy it. Among whom, if ever any -were in necessity, found it most precious, and thereforey received -no small contentment, I am one of them; because from my verie -yongest yeeres, even untill this instant: mine affections became extraordinarily -enflamed, in a place high and Noble, more (perhaps) then beseemed -my humble condition, albeit no way distasted in the judgement -of such as were discreete, when it came truly to their knowledge and understanding. -Yet (indeed) it was very painfull for me to endure, not in -regard of her cruelty, whom I so deerely loved; as for want of better government -in mine owne carriage; being altogether swayed by rash and -peevish passions, which made my afflictions more offensive to mee, then -either wisedome allowed, or suited with my private particular.</p> - -<p>But, as counsell in misery is no meane comfort, so the good advice of -a worthy friend, by many sound and singular perswasions, wrought such -a deliberate alteration; as not onely preserved my life (which was before -in extreame perill) but also gave conclusion to my inconsiderate love, -which in my precedent refractarie carriage, no deliberation, counsell, evident -shame, or whatsoever 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 delivering me likewise from infinite -perplexities.</p> - -<p>And because the acknowledgement of good turnes or courtesies received -(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 releeved me, because their owne better -understanding, 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 availe the common -needie, yet (methinkes) where greefe is greatest, and calamity most insulteth; -there ought to be our paines soundly imployed, and our gravest -instructions and advise wholly administred.</p> - -<p>And who can deny, but that it is much more convenient, to commisserate -the distresse of Ladies and Gentlewomen, then the more able condition -of men? They, as being naturally bashfull and timorous, have 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 -have bin subject to the greatest proofe. Moreover, they being restrained -from their wils and desires, by the severity of Fathers, Mothers, Bretheren, -and Husbands, are shut up (most part of their time) in their Chambers, -where constrainedly sitting idle, diversity of straunge cogitations -wheele up and downe their braines, forging as many severall imaginations, -which cannot be alwayes pleasant and contenting. If melancholly, -incited by some amorous or lovely apprehension, oppresse their weake -and unresisting hearts: they must be glad to beare it patiently (till by better -Fortune) such occasions happen, as may overcome so proud an usurpation.</p> - -<p>Moreover, we cannot but confesse, that they are lesse able, then men, -to support such oppressions: for if men grow affectionate, wee plainely -perceive, when any melancholly troublesome thoughts, or what greefes -else can any way concerne them, their soules are not subject 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 have a particular -power in themselves, 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.</p> - -<p>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 love, and thereby -are most in neede of comfort (and not they that can handle the Needle, -Wheele, and Distaffe) I have provided an hundred Novelles, Tales, Fables, -or Histories, with judicious moralles belonging to them, for your -more delight, and queinter exercise. In a faire and worthy assembly, of -seven 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 severall day.</p> - -<p>In which pleasing Novels, may be observed many strange accidents of -Love, and other notable adventures, happening as well in our times, as -those of graver antiquity: by reading whereof, you may receyve both -pleasure and profitable counsell, because in them you shal perceive, both -the sin to be shunned, and the vertue to be embraced; which as I -wholly hate the one, so I do (and ever will) honour -the others advancement.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2><i>The Table.</i></h2> - - -<p><a href="#The_Epistle_Dedicatory">The Epistle Dedicatory.</a></p> - - -<p><a href="#The_Authors_Prologue_to_the_Lords_Ladies">The Authors Prologue, to the Lords, Ladies, and Gentlewomen.</a></p> - - -<p><a href="#THE_DECAMERON">The First Day, Governed by Madam Pampinea.</a></p> - - -<p><a href="#Messire_Chappelet_du_Prat_by_making_a_false_confession_beguyled_an_holy_Religious">1. Novell.</a> - -<i>Messire Chappelet du Prat, by making a -false confession, beguiled an holy religious -man, and after dyed. And having during -his life time, bene a very bad man, at his death -was reputed to be a Saint, and called S. Chappelet.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Abraham_a_Jew_being_admonished_or_advised_by_a_friend_of_his_named_Jehannot">2. Novell.</a> - -<i>Abraham a Jew, beeing admonished or advised -by a friend of his, named Jehannot de Chevigny, -travailed from Paris unto Rome: And beholding -there, the wicked behaviour of men in the -Church, returned to Paris againe, where (neverthelesse) -he became a Christian.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Melchisedech_a_Jew_by_recounting_a_Tale_of_three_Rings_to_the_great_Soldan">3. Novell.</a> - -<i>Melchisedech a Jewe, by recounting a tale of -three Rings, to the great Soldan, named Saladine, -prevented a great danger which was prepared -for him.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#A_Monke_having_committed_an_offence_deserving_to_be_very_grievously_punished">4. Novell.</a> - -<i>A monke having committed an offence, deserving -to be very greevously punished; freed himselfe -from the paine to be inflicted on him, by wittily reprehending -his Abbot, with the very same fault.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#The_Lady_Marquesse_of_Montferrat_with_a_Banquet_of_Hennes_and_divers">5. Novell.</a> - -<i>Lady Marquesse of Montferrat, with a Banket -of Hens, and divers other gracious speeches beside, -repressed the fond love of the King of France.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#An_honest_plaine_meaning_man_simply_and_conscionably_reprehended_the_malignity">6. Novell.</a> - -<i>An honest plaine meaning man (simply & conscionably) -reprehended the malignity, hypocrisie, -and misdemeanour of many religious persons.</i></p> - -<p><a href="#Bergamino_by_telling_a_Tale_of_a_skilfull_man_named_Primasso_and_of_an_Abbot">7. Novell.</a> - -<i>Bergamino, by telling a Tale of a skilfull man, -named Primasso, and of an Abbot of Clugni; -honestly checked a new kinde of covetousnesse, in -Master Can de la Scala.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Guillaume_Boursier_with_a_few_quaint_and_familiar_words_checkt_the_miserable">8. Novell.</a> - -<i>Guillaume Boursieur, with a few quaint & familiar -words, checkt the miserable covetousness -of Signior Herminio de Grimaldi.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#The_King_of_Cyprus_was_wittily_reprehended_by_the_words_of_a_Gentlewoman">9. Novell.</a> - -<i>How the King of Cyprus was wittily reprehended, -by the words of a Gentlewoman of Gascoignie, -and became vertuously altered from his -vicious disposition.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Master_Albert_of_Bullen_honestly_made_a_Lady_to_blush_that_thought_to_have">10. Novell.</a> - -<i>Master Albert of Bullen, honestly made a Lady -to blush, that thought to have done as much -to him, because she perceived him to be amorously -affected towardes her.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#The_Second_Day">The second Day, governed by -Madam Philomena.</a></p> - - -<p><a href="#Martellino_counterfetting_to_be_lame_of_his_members_caused_himselfe_to_be_set">1. Novell.</a> - -<i>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 recovery: but when his dissimulation -was discovered, he was well beaten, being -afterward taken prisoner, and in great danger -of being hanged and strangled by the necke, and -yet escaped in the end.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Rinaldo_de_Este_after_he_was_robbed_by_Theeves_arrived_at_Chasteau_Guillaume">2. Novell.</a> - -<i>Rinaldo de Este, after he was robbed by theeves -arrived at Chasteau Guillaume, where he was -friendly lodged by a faire Widow, and recompenced -likewise for all his losses; returning afterward -safe and well home unto his owne house.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Three_young_Gentlemen_being_brethren_and_having_spent_all_their_Lands_and">3. Novell.</a> - -<i>Of three yong Gentlemen, being Brethren, and -having spent all their Landes and possessions -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 Unckles losses, and seating them again -in good estate.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Landolpho_Ruffolo_falling_into_poverty_became_a_Pirate_on_the_Seas_and">4. Novell.</a> - -<i>Landolpho Ruffolo, falling into poverty, became -a Pirate on the Seas, and beeing taken by the -Genewayes, hardly escaped drowning: Which yet -(neverthelesse) he did, upon a little chest or coffer -full of very rich Jewels, beeing carried thereon to -Corfu, where he was well entertained by a good -woman: and afterward, returned richly home to -his owne house.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Andrea_de_Piero_travelling_from_Perouse_to_Naples_to_buy_Horses_was_in">5. Novell.</a> - -<i>Andrea de Piero, travelling from Perouse unto -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.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Madame_Beritola_Caracalla_was_found_in_an_Island_with_two_Goates_having">6. Novell.</a> - -<i>Madame Beritola Caracalla, was found in an -Island with two Goates, having lost her two -sons, and thence travailed into Lunigiana: where -one of her Sonnes became servant to the Lord thereof, -and was found some-what over-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.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#The_Soldan_of_Babylon_sent_one_of_his_Daughters_to_be_joyned_in_marriage_with">7. Novell.</a> - -<i>The Soldane of Babylon sent one of his Daughters, -to be joyned in marriage with the King of -Cholcos; who by divers accidents (in the space of -foure yeares) happened into the custodie of nine -men, and in sundry places. At length, being restored -back 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.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#The_Count_DAngiers_being_falsly_accused_was_banished_out_of_France_left">8. Novell.</a> - -<i>Count D'Angiers being falsely accused, was banished -out of France, and left his two children -in England in divers places. Returning afterward -(unknowne) thorough Scotland, hee found them -advanced unto great dignity: Then, repairing in -the habit of a Servitor, into the King of Fraunce -his army, and his innocency made publikely knowen, -he was reseated in his former honourable degree.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Bernardo_a_Merchant_of_Geneway_being_deceived_by_another_Merchant">9. Novell.</a> - -<i>Bernardo, a Merchant of Geneway, being deceived -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 servant to the Soldan. -The deceiver being found at last, she compassed such -means, that her husband Bernardo came into Alexandria, -and there after due punishment inflicted -on the false deceiver, she resumed the garments -againe of a woman, and returned home with her -Husband to Geneway.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Pagamino_da_Monaco_a_roving_Pirate_on_the_Seas_caried_away_the_faire">10. Novell.</a> - -<i>Pagamino da Monaco, a roving Pyrate on the -seas, caried away the faire Wife of Signieur -Ricciardo di Chinzica, who understanding where -shee was, went thither; and falling into friendship -with Pagamino, demanded his wife of him; whereto -he yeelded, provided, that she would willingly go -away with him: shee denied to part thence with -her husband, and Signior Ricciardo dying, shee became -the wife of Pagamino.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#The_Third_Day">The third day, governed by Madame -<i>Neiphila</i>.</a></p> - - -<p><a href="#Massetto_di_Lamporechio_by_counterfetting_himselfe_to_be_dumbe_became_a">1. Novell.</a> - -<i>Massetto di Lamporechio, by counterfetting -himselfe dumbe, became a Gardiner in a -Monastery of Nuns, where he had familiar -conversation with them all.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#A_Querry_of_the_Stable_belonging_to_Agilulffo_King_of_the_Lombards_found">2. Novell.</a> - -<i>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 discovered by -the King, and the party knowne, hee gave him a -marke, by shearing the hair 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.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Under_colour_of_Confession_and_of_a_most_pure_conscience_a_faire_young_Gentlewoman">3. Novell.</a> - -<i>Under colour of confession and of a most pure conscience, -a faire yong Gentlewoman, being amorously -affected to an honest man; induced a devout -and solemne religious Friar, to advise her in the -meanes (without his suspition or perceiving) how to -enjoy the benefit of her friend, and bring her desires -to their full effect.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#A_yong_Scholler_named_Felice_enstructed_Puccio_di_Rinieri_how_to_become">4. Novell.</a> - -<i>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 favour of -his daughter.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Ricciardo_surnamed_the_Magnifico_gave_a_Horse_to_Signior_Francesco_Vergellisi">5. Novell.</a> - -<i>Ricciardo, surnamed the Magnifico, gave a horse -to signior Francesco Vergellisi, upon condition; -that by his leave 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.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Ricciardo_Minutolo_fell_in_love_with_the_Wife_of_Philippello_Fighinolfi">6. Novell.</a> - -<i>Ricciardo Minutolo fell in love with the Wife of -Philippello Fighinolfi, and knowing her to bee -very jealous of her husband, gave her to understand, -that he was greatly enamored of his Wife, -and had appointed to meete her privatly 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 deceived by the said -Ricciardo.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Thebaldo_Elisei_having_received_an_unkinde_repulse_by_his_beloved_departed">7. Novell.</a> - -<i>Thebaldo Elisei, having received an unkinde repulse -by his beloved, 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 unto her. Hee delivered -her husband from the danger of death, because it -was proved that he had slaine Thebaldo, he made -peace with his brethren, and in the end, wisely enjoyed -his hearts desire.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Ferando_by_drinking_a_certaine_kinde_of_Powder_was_buried_for_dead_And">8. Novell.</a> - -<i>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 grave, -and put into a darke prison, where they made him -beleeve that he was in purgatory: afterward when -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.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Juliet_of_Narbona_cured_the_King_of_France_of_a_daungerous_Fistula_in_recompence">9. Novell.</a> - -<i>Juliet of Narbona, cured the King of France of a -dangerous Fistula: in recompence whereof, she requested -to enjoy as her husband in mariage, Bertrand -the Count of Roussillion. He having maried -her against his wil, as utterly despising her, went -to Florence, where he made love to a yong Gentlewoman. -Juliet, 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 -unto the Count, hee accepted her into his favour againe, -and loved her as his loyall and honourable -wife.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#The_wonderfull_and_chaste_resolved_continency_of_faire_Serictha_daughter_to">10. Novell.</a> - -<i>The wonderfull and chaste resolved continencie -of faire Serictha, daughter to Siwalde King of -Denmarke, who beeing sought and sued unto by -many worthy persons, that did affect her dearely, -would not looke any man in the face, untill such -time as she was maried.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#The_Fourth_Day">The Fourth Day, governed by -Philostratus.</a></p> - - -<p><a href="#Tancrede_Prince_of_Salerne_caused_the_amorous_friend_of_his_daughter_to_be">1. Novell.</a> - -<i>Tancrede, Prince of Salerne, 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.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Fryar_Albert_made_a_young_Venetian_Gentlewoman_beleeve_that_God_Cupid">2. Novell.</a> - -<i>Friar Albert made a yong Venetian Gentlewoman -beleeve, that God Cupid was falne in love -with her, and he resorted oftentimes unto 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 savage man, he was -brought upon the Rialto of S. Mark, & being there -publikely knowne by the Brethren of his Order, he -was committed to prison.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Three_yong_Gentlemen_affecting_three_Sisters_fledde_with_them_into_Candie">3. Novell.</a> - -<i>Three yong Gentlemen affecting three Sisters, -fled with them into Canaie. The eldest of them -(through jealousie) becommeth the death of her -Lover. The second, by consenting to the Duke of -Canaies request, is the meanes of saving 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 confesse -the fact: and fearing death, by corruption of money -they prevaile with their keepers, escaping from -thence to Rhodes, where they died in great poverty.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Gerbino_contrary_to_the_former_plighted_faith_of_his_Grand-father_King_Gulielmo">4. Novell.</a> - -<i>Gerbino, contrarie to the former plighted faith -of his Grandfather King Gulielmo, soughte -with a ship at sea belonging to the King of Thunis -to take away his daughter, who was then in the -same ship. She being slaine by them that had the -possession of her, he likewise slew them; and afterward -had his owne head smitten off.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#The_three_Brethren_to_Isabella_slew_a_Gentleman_that_secretly_loved_her_His">5. Novell.</a> - -<i>The three Brethren to Isabella, slew a Gentleman -that secretly loved 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 -herbes are usually set in, she watered it (a long -while) with her teares: whereof her Brethren having -intelligence; soone after she died, with meere -conceite of sorrow.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#A_beautifull_yong_Virgin_named_Andreana_became_enamored_of_a_yong_Gentleman">6. Novell.</a> - -<i>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 unto -her; whereupon Gabriello fell down sodainly dead. -She, and her Chamber-maid were apprehended by -the Officers belonging unto 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 understanding of her Father, who approved -the innocence of his daughter, and compassed her -deliverance. But she afterward, being wearie of -all worldly felicities, entred into Religion, & became -a Nun.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Faire_Simonida_affecting_Pasquino_and_walking_with_him_in_a_pleasant_garden">7. Novell.</a> - -<i>Faire Simonida affecting Pasquino, and walking -with him in a pleasant garden, it fortuned -that Pasquino rubbed his teeth with a leaf of -Sage, and immediately fell downe dead. Simonida -being brought before the bench of Justice, and -charged with the death of Pasquino: she rubbed -her teeth likewise, with one of the leaves of the -same Sage, as declaring what she saw him do, & -thereon she dyed also in the same manner.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Jeronimo_affecting_a_yong_Maiden_named_Silvestra_was_constrained_by_the">8. Novell.</a> - -<i>Jeronimo affecting a yong Mayden named Silvestra -was constrained by the earnest importunity -of his Mother, to take a journey to Paris. At -his returne home from thence againe, he found his -love Silvestra maried. By secret meanes he got entrance -into her house and dyed upon the bed lying -by her. Afterward, his body being caried unto the -Church to receive buriall, shee likewise died there -instantly upon his coarse.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Messer_Guiglielmo_of_Rossiglione_having_slaine_Messer_Guiglielmo_Guardastagno">9. Novell.</a> - -<i>Messer Guiglielmo of Rossiglione having slaine -Messer Guiglielmo Guardastagno, whom he imagined -to love his wife, gave 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.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#A_Physitians_wife_laide_a_Lover_of_her_Maids_supposing_him_to_bee_dead_in_a">10. Novell.</a> - -<i>A Physitians wife laid a Lover of her maids, supposing -him to be dead, in a chest, by reason that -he had drunke water which usually was given to -procure a sleepy entrancing. Two Lombard Usurers, -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 Justice, accuseth her self for putting -the imagined dead body into the chest, whereby -he escaped hanging: and the Theeves which -stole away the chest, were condemned to pay a very -great summe of money.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#THE_FIFT_DAY">The Fift day, Governed by Madame -Fiammetta.</a></p> - - -<p><a href="#Chynon_by_falling_in_love_became_wise_and_by_force_of_Armes_winning_his">1. Novell.</a> - -<i>Chynon, by falling in love, became wise, and -by force of Armes, winning his faire Ladye -Iphigenia on the seas, was afterward imprisoned -at Rhodes. Being delivered by one name Lysimachus -with him he recovered his Iphigenia againe, -and faire Cassandra even in the middest of -their mariage. They fled with them into Candye, -where after they had maried them, they were called -home to their owne dwelling.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Faire_Constance_of_Liparis_fell_in_love_with_Martuccio_Gomito_and_hearing">2. Novell.</a> - -<i>Faire Constance of Liparis, fell in Love with -Martuccio Gomito: and hearing that hee was -dead, desperately she entred into a Barke which -being transported by the winds to Susa in Barbary, -from thence she went to Thunis, where she found -him to be living. There she made her selfe knowne -to him, and he being in great authority, as a privy -Counsellor to the King: he maried the saide Constance, -and returned richly home to her, to the Island -of Liparis.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Pedro_Bocamazzo_escaping_away_with_a_yong_Damosell_which_he_loved_named">3. Novell.</a> - -<i>Pedro Bocamazzo, escaping away with a yong -Damosel which he loved, named Angelina, met -with Theeves in his journey. The Damosel flying -fearfully into a Forest, by chaunce commeth to a -Castle. Pedro being taken by the theeves, & hapning -afterward to escape from them, accidentally -came to the same Castle where Angelina was: & -marying her, they then returned home to Rome.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Ricciardo_Manardy_was_found_by_Messer_Lizio_da_Valbonna_as_he_sate_fast">4. Novell.</a> - -<i>Ricciardo Manardy, was found by Messer Lizio -da Valbonna, as he sat fast asleep at his daughters -chamber window, having his hand fast in hirs -and sleeping in the same manner. Whereupon they -were joyned together in mariage, and their long -loyall love mutually recompenced.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Guidotto_of_Cremona_departing_out_of_this_mortall_life_left_a_Daughter_of_his">5. Novell.</a> - -<i>Guidotto of Cremona, departing out of this mortall -life, left a daughter of his with Jacomino -of Pavia. Giovanni di Severino, and Menghino da -Minghole, fell both in love with the yong Maiden, -and fought for her; who being afterward knowne -to be the sister to Giovanni, shee was given in mariage -to Menghino.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Guion_di_Procida_being_found_familiarly_conversing_with_a_young_Damosell">6. Novell.</a> - -<i>Guion di Procida, being found familiarly conversing -with a yong Damosel which he loved, -and had bene given formerly to Frederigo King of -Sicily: was bound to a stake to bee consumed with -fire. From which danger (neverthelesse) hee escaped; -being knowne by Don Rogiero de Oria, Lorde -Admirall of Sicily, and afterward marryed the -Damosel.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Theodoro_falling_in_love_with_Violenta_the_Daughter_to_his_Master_named">7. Novell.</a> - -<i>Theodoro falling in love with Violenta, the -daughter to his Master, named Amarigo, and -she conceyving with childe by him, was condemnd -to be hanged. As they were leading him unto the -gallowes, beating and misusing him all the way: -hee happened to bee knowne by his owne Father, -whereupon he was released, and afterward injoyed -Violenta in mariage.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Anastasio_a_Gentleman_of_the_Family_of_the_Honesti_by_loving_the_Daughter">8. Novell.</a> - -<i>Anastasio, a Gentleman of the Family of the -Honesti by loving the daughter to Signior Paulo -Traversario, lavishly wasted a great part of -his substance, without receiving any love 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 -gave her to be devoured by his hounds. Anastasio -invited his friends, and hers also whom he so -dearly loved, to take part of a dinner with him, -who likewise sawe the same Damosell so torne in -peeces: which his unkind love perceiving, & fearing -least the like ill fortune should happen to her, -she accepted Anastasio to bee her husband.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Frederigo_of_the_Alberighi_Family_loved_a_Gentlewoman_and_was_not_requited">9. Novell.</a> - -<i>Frederigo, of the Alberighi Family, loved a -Gentlewoman, and was not requited with like -love againe. By bountifull expences, and over liberal -invitations, hee wasted and consumed all his -lands and goods, having nothing lefte him, but a -Hawke or Faulcon. His unkinde Mistresse, happeneth -to come visit him, and he not having 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.</i></p> - - -<p><a href="#Pedro_di_Vinciolo_went_to_sup_at_a_friends_House_in_the_City_His_Wife_in_the">10. Novell.</a> - -<i>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 loved, at supper with her. -Pedro returning home upon a sodaine, the young -man was hidden under a Coope for Hens. Pedro, -in excuse of his so soone coming home, declareth; -how in the house of Herculano (with whome hee -should have supt) a friend of his wives was found, -which was the reason of the suppers breaking off. -Pedroes wife reproving the error of Herculanoes -wife: an Asse (by chance) treades on the young -mans fingers that lay hidden under the Henne-Coope. -Upon his crying out, Pedro steppeth thither, -sees him, knowes him, and findeth the fallacie of -his wife: with whom (neverthelesse) he groweth -to agreement, in regard of some imperfections in -himselfe.</i></p> - - -<h4>The End of the Table.</h4> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="THE_DECAMERON" id="THE_DECAMERON">THE DECAMERON,<br /> -Containing, an Hundred pleasant<br /> -<span class="smcap">Novelles</span>.</a></h2> - - -<h4><i>Wherein, after demonstration made by the Author, upon what occasion it hapned, -that the persons (of whom we shall speake heereafter) should thus meete -together, to make so queint a Narration of Novels: Hee declareth unto you, -that they first begin to devise and conferre, under the government of Madam -Pampinea, and of such matters as may be most pleasing to them all.</i></h4> - - -<h4>The Induction of the Author, to the -following Discourses.</h4> - - -<p>Gracious Ladies, so often as I consider -with my selfe, and observe respectively, how naturally -you are enclined to compassion; as many -times do I acknowledge, that this present worke -of mine, will (in your judgement) appeare to -have but a harsh and offensive beginning, in regard -of the mournfull remembrance it beareth at -the verie entrance of the last Pestilentiall mortality, -universally 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 wish, that so -fearefull a beginning, should seeme but as an high and steepy hill appeares -to them, that attempt to travell farre on foote, and ascending the same -with some difficulty, come afterward to walk upon a goodly even plaine, -which causeth the more contentment in them, because the attaining -thereto was hard and painfull. For, even as pleasures are cut off by griefe -and anguish; so sorrowes cease by joyes most sweete and happie arriving.</p> - -<p>After this breefe molestation, 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 (peradventure) could not bee expected by such a beginning, if -promise stoode not thereunto engaged. And indeed, if I could wel have -conveyed you to the center of my desire, by any other way, then so rude -and rocky a passage as this is, I would gladly have 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 (even as constrained thereto by meere -necessity) in writing after this manner.</p> - -<p>The yeare of our blessed Saviours incarnation, 1348. that memorable -mortality happened in the excellent City, farre beyond all the rest in -<i>Italy</i>; which plague, by operation of the superiour bodies, or rather for -our enormous iniquities, by the just anger of God was sent upon us mortals. -Some few yeeres before, it tooke beginning in the Easterne partes, -sweeping thence an innumerable quantity of living soules: extending it -selfe afterward from place to place Westward, untill it seized on the said -City. Where neither humane skill or providence, could use any prevention, -notwithstanding it was cleansed of many annoyances, by diligent -Officers thereto deputed: besides prohibition of all sickly persons enterance, -and all possible provision dayly used for conservation of such as -were in health, with incessant prayers and supplications of devoute people, -for the asswaging of so dangerous a sicknesse.</p> - -<p>About the beginning of the yeare, it also began in very strange manner, -as appeared by divers admirable effects; yet not as it had done in the -East Countries, where Lord or Lady being touched therewith, manifest -signes of inevitable death followed thereon, by bleeding at the nose. But -here it began with yong children, male and female, either under 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 divers 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 -everie part else of the body: in some great and few, in others small and -thicke.</p> - -<p>Now as the Byle (at the beginning) was an assured signe of neere approaching -death; so prooved 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 proceeded, and so by consequent, no resolution -was to be determined. Moreover, beside the number of such as -were skilfull in Art, many more both women and men, without ever having -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 Feaver, or any other accident.</p> - -<p>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 used in his service, seemed to transferre the -disease from the sicke to the sound, in very rare and miraculous manner. -Among which matter of marvell, 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 beleeve 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, even 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.</p> - -<p>Mine owne eyes (as formerly I have said) among divers other, one day -had evident 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 every dung-hill, tossed and -tumbled the cloathes with their snouts, rubbing their heads likewise uppon -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 divers feares and imaginations in them that beheld them, all -tending to a most inhumane and uncharitable 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.</p> - -<p>Some there were, who considered with themselves, that living soberly, -with abstinence from all superfluity; it would be a sufficient resistance -against all hurtfull accidents. So combining themselves in a sociable manner, -they lived as separatists from all other company, being shut up in -such houses, where no sicke body should be neere them. And there, for -their more security, they used delicate viands and excellent wines, avoiding -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 having musicall instruments, lived there in all possible -pleasure. Others were of a contrary opinion, who avouched, that there -was no other physicke more certaine, for a disease so desperate, then to -drinke hard, be merry among themselves, singing continually, walking -every where, and satisfying their appetites with whatsoever they desired, -laughing, and mocking at every mournefull accident, and so they vowed -to spend day and night: for now they would goe to one Taverne, then to -another, living without any rule or measure; which they might very easilie -doe, because every one of them, (as if he were to live no longer in this -World) had even 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 adventure it) even as boldly as the -Lord or owner, without any let or contradiction.</p> - -<p>Yet in all this their beastly behaviour, 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 divine -as humane, was even 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 lived so solitary, in such great necessity of servants and attendants, -as they could not execute any office, whereby it was lawfull for every one -to doe as he listed.</p> - -<p>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 used all things sufficient for -their appetites, and without shutting up themselves, walked abroade, -some carrying sweete nose-gayes of flowers in their hands; others odoriferous -herbes, and others divers 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 savours. Some other there were also of more inhumane -minde (howbeit peradventure 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 moving them, and caring for -no body but themselves, 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 heavily upon none, -but such as were enclosed within the City wals; or else perswading themselves, -that not any one should there be left alive, but that the finall ending -of all things was come.</p> - -<p>Now albeit these persons in their diversity of opinions died not all, so -undoubtedly 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 us omit, that one Citizen fled after another, -and one neighbour had not any care of another, Parents nor kinred -never visiting them, but utterly they were forsaken on all sides: this -tribulation pierced into the hearts of men, and with such a dreadfull terror, -that one Brother forsooke another; the Unkle 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, even 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 subjected to the avarice of servants, who attended them -constrainedly, for great and unreasonable 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 understanding, who never before had served -in any such necessities, nor indeed were any way else to be imployed, -but to give the sicke person such things as he called for, or to awaite the -houre of his death; in the performance of which services, oftentimes for -gaine, they lost their owne lives.</p> - -<p>In this extreame calamity, the sicke being thus forsaken of neighbours, -kinred, and friends, standing also in such need of servants; a custome came -up among them, never heard of before, that there was not any woman, -how noble, young, or faire soever shee was, but falling sicke, shee must of -necessity have a man to attend her, were he young or otherwise, respect -of shame or modesty no way prevailing, but all parts of her body must -be discovered to him, which (in the like urgency) was not to be seene by -any but women: whereon ensued afterward, that upon the parties healing -and recovery, 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 convenient remedies, (which the sicke by no -meanes could attain unto) 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 necesssity -(among them that remained living) begat new behaviours, quite contrary -to all which had beene in former times, and frequently used among -the City Inhabitants.</p> - -<p>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 having any women about them, but infinites also past out of this -life, not having any witnesse, how, when, or in what manner they departed. -So that few or none there were, to deliver outward shew of sorrow -and grieving: but insteed thereof, divers declared idle joy and rejoycing, -a use soone learned of immodest women, having put off al feminine compassion, -yea, or regard of their owne welfare.</p> - -<p>Very few also would accompany the body to the grave, and they not -any of the Neighbours, although it had beene an honourable Cittizen, -but onely the meanest kinde of people, such as were grave-makers, coffin-bearers, -or the like, that did these services 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, having some foure or sixe poore Priests following, with -lights or no lights, and those of the silliest; short service being said at the -buriall, and the body unreverently throwne into the first open grave they -found. Such was the pittifull misery of poore people, and divers, who -were of better condition, as it was most lamentable to behold; because -the greater number of them, under hope of healing, or compelled by poverty, -kept still within their houses weake and faint, thousands falling sick -daily, and having no helpe, or being succoured any way with foode or -physicke, all of them died, few or none escaping.</p> - -<p>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 lives perished, rather by the -noysome smell of dead and putrified bodies, then by any violence of the -disease in themselves. So that of these and the rest, dying in this manner -every where, the neighbours observed one course of behaviour, (moved -thereto no lesse by feare, that the smell and corruption of dead bodies -should harme them, then charitable respect of the dead) that themselves -when they could, or being assisted by some bearers of coarses, when they -were able to procure them, 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 have the helpe -of Bieres, were glad to lay them on tables, and Bieres have bin observed, -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, have thus beene carried -along to the grave upon one Biere.</p> - -<p>Moreover, 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 have made up the advantage, 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, even in -their greatest height: not onely the wise might now learne, but also the -verie simplest people; & in such sort, that they should alwaies be prepared -against all infelicities whatsoever.</p> - -<p>Hallowed ground could not now suffice, for the great multitude of -dead bodies, which were daily brought to every Church in the City, and -every houre in the day; neither could the bodies have proper place of -buriall, according to our ancient custome: wherefore, after that the churches -and Church-yards were filled, they were constrained to make use of -great deepe ditches, wherein they were buried by hundreds at once, ranking -dead bodies along in graves, as Merchandizes are laide along in -ships, covering each after other with a small quantity of earth, & so they -filled at last up the whole ditch to the brim.</p> - -<p>Now, because I would wander no further in everie particularity, concerning -the miseries happening in our Citie: I tell you, that extremities -running on in such manner as you have 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 servants; & likewise in the high-wayes, or their ploughed -landes, by day or night indifferently, yet not as men, but like brute -beasts.</p> - -<p>By meanes whereof, they became lazie and slothfull in their daily endeavours, -even like to our Citizens; not minding or medling with their -wonted affaires: but, as awaiting for death every houre, imployed all -their paines, not in caring any way for themselves, their cattle, or gathering -the fruits of the earth, or any of their accustomed labours; but rather -wasted and consumed, even 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 servants -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 fore-said -beasts (as endued with reason) after they had pastured themselves in -the day time, would returne full fed at night home to their houses, without -any government of Heardsmen, or any other.</p> - -<p>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 -servant? 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 <i>Galen, Hippocrates,</i> -and <i>Æsculapius</i> (if they were living) could have reputed any -way unhealthfull; were seene to dine at morning, with their Parents, -Friends, and familiar confederates, and went to sup in another world -with their Predecessors?</p> - -<p>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 understoode by some of good credite) that in the -venerable Church of S. <i>Marie la Neufue</i>, on a Tuesday morning, there -being then no other person, after the hearing of divine Service, in mourning -habits (as the season required) returned thence seven discreet yong -Gentlewomen, all allyed together, either by friendship, neighbour-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 behaviour, -and gracious modesty.</p> - -<p>Their names I could report, if just 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 revealed) 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 (over-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 them -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 <i>Pampinea</i>; the second <i>Fiammetta</i>; -the third <i>Philomena</i>; the fourth <i>Æmilia</i>; the fift <i>Lauretta</i>; the sixt <i>Neiphila</i>; -and the last we terme (not without occasion) <i>Elissa</i>, or <i>Eliza</i>. 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 divers sighs severally delivered, they conferred on -sundry matters answerable to the sad qualitie of the time, and within a -while after, Madam <i>Pampinea</i> began in this manner.</p> - -<p>Faire Ladies, you may (no doubt as well as I) have often heard, that -no injury is offered to any one, by such as make use but of their owne -right. It is a thing naturall for everie one which is borne in this World, -to aide, conserve, 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 themselves) men have beene slaine without any -offence: yet Lawes have allowed it to be so, in whose solicitude lieth the -best living of all mortals. How much more honest and just is it then for -us, and for every other well-disposed person, to seeke for (without wronging -any) and to practise all remedies that wee can, for the conservation -of our lives? When I well consider, what we have heere done this morning, -and many other already past; remembring (withall) what likewise -is proper and convenient for us: I conceive (as all you may do the like) -that everie one of us hath a due respect of her selfe, and then I mervaile -not, but rather am much amazed (knowing none of us to be deprived of -a Womans best judgement) that wee seeke not after some remedies for -our selves, against that, which every one among us, ought (in reason) to -feare.</p> - -<p>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 graves; or else to listen, when the religious Sisters here dwelling -(whose number now are well-neere come to be none at all) sing Service -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 offensive fury) such as (by authoritie -of publike Lawes) were banished hence, onely for their bad and -brutish behaviour 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 themselves to us, by the base rascality of the -Citie; who being fatted with our blood, tearme themselves Grave-makers, -and in meere contemptible mockerie of us, are mounted on horse-backe, -gallopping everie where, reproaching us 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 everie where most pittifull complaining.</p> - -<p>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 wheresoever I go or -sit downe, me thinkes I see the ghostes and shadowes of deceased friends, -not with such lovely lookes as I was wont to behold them, but with most -horrid and dreadfull regards, newly stolne upon 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 having meanes or place of retirement, as all we have, -and none to remaine heere but onely we.</p> - -<p>Moreover, I have often heard it said, that in tarrying or departing, no -distinction is made in things honest or dishonest; onely appetite will be -served; and be they alone or in company, by day or night, they do whatsoever -their appetite desireth: not secular persons onely, but such as are -recluses, and shut up within Monasteries, breaking the Lawes of obedience, -and being addicted to pleasures of the flesh, are become lascivious -and dissolute, making the world beleeve, that whatsoever is convenient -for other women, is no way unbeseeming them, as thinking in that manner -to escape.</p> - -<p>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 -selves lesse precious then all the other? Or do we beleeve, 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 us? Wee -erre therein, and are deceived. What brutishnesse were it in us, if wee -should urge any such beleefe? So often as wee call to minde, what, and -how many gallant yong men and women, have beene devoured by this -cruell pestilence; wee may evidently observe a contrary argument.</p> - -<p>Wherefore, to the end, that by being over-scrupulous and carelesse, -we fall not into such danger, whence when we would (perhaps) we cannot -recover our selves by any meanes: I thinke it meete (if your judgement -therein shall jumpe with mine) that all of us as we are (at least, if we will -doe as divers before us have done, and yet daily endeavour to doe) shunning -death by the honest example of other, make our retreate to our -Countrey houses, wherewith all of us are sufficiently furnished, and thereto -delight our selves 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 waving -in the field like the billowes of the Sea; infinite store of goodly trees, and -the Heavens more fairely open to us, then here we can behold them: And -although they are justly displeased, yet will they not there denie us better -beauties to gaze on, then the walles in our City (emptied of Inhabitants) -can affoord us.</p> - -<p>Moreover, the Ayre is much fresh and cleere, and generally, there is -farre greater abundance of all things whatsoever, needefull at this time -for preservation of our health, and lesse offence or molestation then wee -find here.</p> - -<p>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 observe it, here wee forsake no particular person, but rather -wee may tearme our selves forsaken; in regard that our Husbands, -Kinred, and Friends, either dying, or flying from the dead, have left us -alone in this great affliction, even as if we were no way belonging unto -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.</p> - -<p>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 us, and -(as this day) betake our selves to one place, to morrow to another, taking -there such pleasure and recreation, as so sweete a season liberally -bestoweth on us. In which manner we may remaine, till we see (if death -otherwise prevent us not) what ende the gracious Heavens have reserved -for us. I would have you also to consider, that it is no lesse seemely for -us to part hence honestly, then a great number of other Women to remaine -here immodestly.</p> - -<p>The other Ladies and Gentlewomen, having heard Madam <i>Pampinea</i>, -not onely commended her counsell, but desiring also to put it in execution; -had already particularly consulted with themselves, by what means -they might instantly depart from thence. Neverthelesse, Madam <i>Philomena</i>, -who was very wise, spake thus.</p> - -<p>Albeit faire Ladies, the case propounded by Madam <i>Pampinea</i> hath -beene very wel delivered; yet (for all that) it is against reason for us to rush -on, as we are over-ready to doe. Remember that we are all women, and -no one among us is so childish, but may consider, that when wee -shall be so assembled together, without providence or conduct of some -man, we can hardly governe our selves. We are fraile, offensive, suspicious, -weake spirited, and fearefull: in regard of which imperfections, I -greatly doubt (if we have no better direction then our owne) this society -will sooner dissolve it selfe, and (perchance) with lesse honour to us, then -if we never had begunne it. And therefore it shall be expedient for us, -to provide before wee proceede any further. Madam <i>Elissa</i> hereon thus -replied.</p> - -<p>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 living, some be -dispearsed here, others there, into divers places and companies, where -we have no knowledge of their being. And to accept of strangers, would -seeme very inconvenient; wherefore as we have such care of our health, -so should wee be as respective (withall) in ordering our intention: that -wheresoever wee aime at our pleasure and contentment, reproofe and -scandall may by no meanes pursue us.</p> - -<p>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 five and twenty yeeres) in whom, neither malice of the -time, loss of friends or kinred, nor any fearefull conceit in themselves, -had the power to quench affection; but (perhaps) might a little coole it, -in regard of the queazy season. One of them called himselfe <i>Pamphilus</i>, -the second <i>Philostratus</i>, and the last <i>Dioneus</i>. 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 seaven, and the -rest kinne unto them in one degree or other. No sooner were these Ladies -espyed by them, but they met with them also in the same advantage; -whereupon Madam <i>Pampinea</i> (amiably smiling) saide.</p> - -<p>See how graciously Fortune is favourable to our beginning, by presenting -our eyes with three so wise and worthy young Gentlemen, who -will gladly be our guides and servants, if we doe not disdaine them the office. -Madam <i>Neiphila</i> beganne immediatly to blush, because one of them -had a love in the company, and saide; Good Madam <i>Pampinea</i> 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 us, 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 us: I feare, if wee should make -the motion, that some dishonour or reproofe may ensue thereby, and yet -without blame either in us or them. That is nothing at all, answered Madam -<i>Philomena</i>, let mee live 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 <i>Pampinea</i> saide) wee may -very well hope that Fortune will bee furtherous to our purposed journey.</p> - -<p>The other Ladies hearing them speake in such manner, not onely were -silent to themselves, 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 <i>Pampinea</i> mounting on her feete (because one -of the three was her Kinsman) went towards them, as they stood respectively -observing them; and (with a pleasing countenance) giving 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.</p> - -<p>The Gentlemen imagined at the first apprehension, that this was spoken -in mockage of them, but when they better perceived, that her words -tended to solemne earnest; they made answer, that they were all heartily -ready to doe them any service. And without any further delaying, before -they parted thence, tooke order for their aptest furnishing with all -convenient 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, -having three servants to waite on them; left the City to beginne -their journey, and having travelled about a leagues distance, arrived 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, having a large and spacious Court in the middest, -round engirt with galleries, hals and chambers, every one separate alone -by themselves, 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.</p> - -<p>This Pallace the company found fully fitted and prepared, the beddes -in the Chambers made and daintily ordered, thickly strewed with variety -of flowers, which could not but give them the greater contentment. <i>Dioneus</i>, -who (above the other) was a pleasant young gallant, and full of infinite -witty conceits, saide; Your wit (faire Ladies) hath better guided us -hither, then our providence. I know not how you have 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 give me leave to goe seeke my sorrowes againe, -and so to remaine discontented in our desolate City. Madam <i>Pampinea</i> -having in like manner shaken off her sorrowes, delivering a modest and -bashfull smile, replied in this manner.</p> - -<p><i>Dioneus</i>, well have you spoken, it is fit to live merrily, and no other occasion -made us forsake the sicke and sad Citie. But, because such things -as are without meane or measure, are subject 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 convenient, that wee -should all agree, to have one chiefe commaunder among us, in whom -the care and providence should consist, for direction of our merriment, -performing honour and obedience to the party, as to our Patrone and -sole Governour. And because every one may feele the burthen of sollicitude, -as also the pleasure of commaunding, and consequently have a -sensible taste of both, whereby no envie may arise on any side: I could -wish, that each one of us (for a day onely) should feele both the burthen -and honour, and the person so to be advanced, shall receive it from the -election of us 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.</p> - -<p>These words were highly pleasing to them all, and, by generall voyce, -Madame <i>Pampinea</i> was chosen Queene for the first day. Whereupon, -Madame <i>Philomena</i> 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 divers -branches, she made of them an apparant and honourable Chaplet, -placing it (by generall consent) upon her head, and this, so long as their -company continued, manifested to all the rest, the signall of dominion -and Royall greatnesse.</p> - -<p>After that Madame <i>Pampinea</i> was thus made Queene, she commanded -publique silence, and causing the Gentlemens three servants, and the waiting -women also (being foure in number) to be brought before her, thus -shee began. Because I am to give the first example to you all, whereby -(proceeding on from good to better) our company may live in order -and pleasure, acceptable to all, and without shame to any: I create <i>Parmeno</i> -(servant to <i>Dioneus</i>) Maister of the Houshold, hee taking the care -and charge of all our trayne, and for whatsoever appertaineth to our -Hall service. I appoint also that <i>Silisco</i> (servant to <i>Pamphilus</i>) shall be -our Dispencer and Treasurer, performing that which <i>Parmeno</i> shall -commaund him. And that <i>Tindaro</i> serve as Groome of the Chamber, to -<i>Philostratus</i> his Maister, and the other two, when his fellowes (impeached -by their offices) cannot be present. <i>Misia</i> my Chambermaid, and <i>Licisca</i> -(belonging to Philomena) shall serve continually in the Kitchin, and diligently -make ready such vyands, as shall be delivered them by <i>Parmeno. -Chimera</i>, wayting-woman to <i>Lauretta</i>, and <i>Stratilia</i> (appertaining to <i>Fiammetta</i>) -shall have the charge and governement of the Ladies Chambers, -and preparing all places where we shall be present. Moreover, we -will and commaund every one of them (as they desire to deserve our -grace) that wheresoever they goe or come, or whatsoever they heare or -see: they especially respect to bring us tydings of them. After shee had -summarily delivered them these orders, very much commended of every -one; shee arose fairely, saying. Heere wee have Gardens, Orchards, -Meadowes, and other places of sufficient pleasure, where every one may -sport & recreate themselves: but so soone as the ninth houre striketh, then -all to meete here againe, to dine in the coole shade.</p> - -<p>This jocund company having received licence from their Queene to -disport themselves, the Gentlemen walked with the Ladies into a goodly -Garden, making Chaplets and Nosegayes of divers flowers, and singing -silently to themselves. When they had spent the time limitted by the -Queene, they returned into the house, where they found that <i>Parmeno</i> -had effectually executed his office. For, when they entred into the Hall, -they saw the Tables covered with delicate white naperie, and the Glasses -looking like silver, they were so transparantly cleare, all the roome beside -streawed with floures of Juniper. When the Queene and all the rest had -washed; according as <i>Parmeno</i> gave order, so every one was seated at the -Table: the vyands (delicately drest) were served in, and excellent wines -plentifully delivered, none attending but the three servants, and little or -no loud table-talke passing among them.</p> - -<p>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 divers -instruments should be brought, and (as she gave charge) <i>Dioneus</i> tooke a -Lute, and <i>Fiammetta</i> a Violl <i>de gamba</i>, and began to play an excellent -daunce. Whereupon the Queene, with the rest of the Ladies, and the -other two young Gentlemen (having sent their attending servants to -dinner) paced foorth a daunce very majestically. And when the daunce -was ended, they sung sundry excellent Canzonets, out-wearing so the -time, untill the Queene commaunded them all to rest, because the houre -did necessarily require it. The Gentlemen having their Chambers farre -severed from the Ladies, curiously strewed with flowers, and their beds -adorned in exquisite manner, as those of the Ladies were not a jote 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 overmuch -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 over-violently, because the shades of faire spreading trees -gave 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.</p> - -<p>You see (faire company) that the Sunne is highly mounted, the heate -(else-where) too extreme for us, and therefore 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 advice 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 us, a tale or fable related by some one, to urge the attention -of all the rest. And so wearing out the warmth of the day, one prety Novell -wil draw on another, until the Sun be lower declined, and the heates -extremity more diminished, to solace our selves in some other place, as -to our minds shal seeme convenient. If therefore what I have sayde be -acceptable to you (I purposing to follow in the same course of pleasure) -let it appeare by your immediate answer; for, till the Evening, I think we -can devise no exercise more commodious for us.</p> - -<p>The Ladies & Gentlemen allowed of the motion, to spend the time -in telling pleasant tales; whereupon the Queene saide: Seeing you have -approoved mine advice, I grant free permission for this first day, that every -one shall relate, what to him or her is best pleasing. And turning -her selfe to <i>Pamphilus</i> (who was seated on her right hand) gave him favour, -with one of his Novels, to begin the recreation: which he not daring -to deny, and perceiving generall attention prepared for him, thus -he began.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Messire_Chappelet_du_Prat_by_making_a_false_confession_beguyled_an_holy_Religious" id="Messire_Chappelet_du_Prat_by_making_a_false_confession_beguyled_an_holy_Religious"><i>Messire Chappelet du Prat, by making a false confession, beguyled an holy Religious -man, and after dyed. And having (during his life time) bene a verie -bad man, at his death was reputed to be a Saint, and called S. Chappelet.</i></a></h4> - - -<h2>The first Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is contained, how hard a thing it is, to distinguish goodnesse from hypocrisie; -and how (under the shadow of holinesse) the wickednes of one man, -may deceive many.</i></h4> - - -<p>It is a matter most convenient (deare Ladies) that a man -ought to begin whatsoever 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 invention of discoursing Novelties: 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 ever to be praised by us. Now, -as there is nothing more certaine, but that even as temporall things are -mortall and transitory, so are they both in and out of themselves, full of -sorrow, paine, and anguish, and subjected to infinite dangers: So in the -same manner, we live mingled among them, seeming as part of them, -and cannot (without some error) continue or defend ourselves, if God -by his especiall grace and favour, give us not strength and good understanding. -Which power we may not beleeve, that either it descendeth -to us, or liveth in us, by any merites of our owne; but of his onely most -gracious benignity. Mooved neverthelesse, and entreated by the intercessions -of them, who were (as we are) mortals; and having diligently -observed his commandements, are now with him in eternall blessednes. -To whom (as to advocates and procurators, informed by the experience -of our frailty) wee are not to present our prayers in the presence of -so great a Judge; but only to himselfe, for the obtaining of all such things -as his wisedome knoweth to be most expedient for us. And well may we -credit, that his goodnesse is more fully enclined towards us, in his continuall -bounty and liberality; then the subtilty of any mortal eye, can reach -into the secret of so divine a thought: and sometimes therefore we may -be beguiled in opinion, by electing such and such as our intercessors before -his high Majesty, who perhaps are farre off from him, or driven into -perpetuall exile, as unworthy 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 devotion, committed to the trust of a -heedlesse intercessor; and such prayers have alwaies gracious acceptation -in his sight. As manifestly will appeare, by the Novell which I intend -to relate; manifestly (I say) not as in the judgement of God, but according -to the apprehension of men.</p> - -<p>There was one named, <i>Musciatto Francesi</i>, who from beeing a most -rich and great merchant in <i>France</i>, was become a Knight, and preparing -to go into <i>Tuscany</i>, with Monsieur <i>Charles without Land</i>, Brother to -the King of <i>France</i> (who was desired and incited to come thither by -Pope <i>Boniface</i>) found his affaires greatly intricated here and there -(as oftentimes the matters of Merchants fall out to bee) and that very -hardly hee should sodainly unintangle them, without referring the -charge of them to divers persons. And for all he tooke indifferent -good order, onely he remained doubtfull, whom he might sufficiently -leave, to recover his debts among many <i>Burgundians</i>. And the rather -was his care the more herein, because he knew the <i>Burgundians</i> 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 soever he was) in whom he might repose trust to meete -with their lewdnesse. Having a long while examined his thoughts upon -this point, at last hee remembred one master <i>Chappelet du Prat</i>, who -ofttimes had resorted to his house in <i>Paris</i>. And because he was a -man of little stature, yet handsome enough, the French not knowing what -this word <i>Chappelet</i> might mean, esteeming he should be called rather -(in their tongue) <i>Chappell</i>; imagined, that in regard of his small -stature, they termed him <i>Chappelet</i>, and not <i>Chappell</i>, and so by -the name of <i>Chappelet</i> he was every where known, and by few or none -acknowledged for <i>Chappel</i>.</p> - -<p>This master <i>Chappelet</i>, 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 soever hee dealt withall, he would be urged and required -thereto, offering them his paines and travaile for nothing, but to be -requited otherwise then by money; which prooved 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 given to an -oath, he making no care or conscience to be perjured: greatly advantaged -himselfe by Law suites, in regard that many matters relyed upon his -oath, and delivering the truth according to his knowledge.</p> - -<p>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 never would -make deniall, but go to it very willingly; and divers times it was wel knowen, -that many were cruelly beaten, ye slaine by his hands. Hee was a -most horrible blasphemer of God and his Saints, upon the very least occasion, -as being more addicted to choller, then any other man could be. -Never would he frequent the Church, but basely contemned it, with the -Sacraments and religious rites therein administred, accounting them for -vile and unprofitable things: but very voluntarily would visit Tavernes, -and other places of dishonest accesse, which were continually pleasing -unto him, to satisfie his lust and inordinate lubricitie. Hee would steale -both in publike and private, even with such a conscience, as if it were given -to him by nature so to do. He was a great glutton and a drunkarde, -even 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.</p> - -<p>But why do I waste time in such extent of words? When it may suffice -to say, that never was there a worse man borne; whose wickednesse -was for long time supported, by the favour, power, and Authoritie -of Monsieur <i>Musciatto</i>, for whose sake many wrongs and injuries were -patiently endured, as well by private persons (whom hee would abuse -notoriously) as others of the Court, betweene whom he made no difference -at all in his vile dealing. This Master <i>Chappelet</i>, being thus remembred -by <i>Musciatto</i> (who very well knew his life and behaviour) he perfectly -perswaded himselfe, that this was a man apt in all respects, to meete -with the treachery of the Burgundians: whereupon, having sent for him, -thus he beganne.</p> - -<p><i>Chappelet</i>, thou knowest how I am wholly to retreate my selfe from -hence, and having some affaires among the Burgundians, men full of -wickednesse and deceite; I can bethinke my selfe of no meeter a man then -<i>Chappelet</i>, to recover 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 undergoe this office for me, I will procure thee favourable -Letters from the Court, and give thee a reasonable portion in -all thou recoverest. Master <i>Chappelet</i>, seeing himselfe idle, and greedy -after worldly goods, considering <i>Mounsieur Musciatto</i> (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.</p> - -<p>Having made their agreement together, and received from <i>Musciatto</i> -his expresse procuration, as also the Kings gracious Letters; after that -<i>Musciatto</i> was gone on his journey, Master <i>Chappelet</i> went to <i>Dijon</i>, [To Borgogna saith the Italian.] where -he was unknowne (well neere) of any. And there (quite from his naturall -disposition) he beganne benignely and graciously, in recovering the debts -due; which course he tooke the rather, because they should have a further -feeling of him in the ende. Being lodged in the house of two Florentine -brethren, that lived on their monies usance; and (for <i>Mounsieur Musciattoes</i> -sake) using him with honour and respect: It fortuned that he fell sicke, -and the two brethren sent for Physicions to attend him, allowing their -servants to be diligent about him, making no spare of any thing, which -gave the best likelyhood of restoring his health. But all their paines proved -to no purpose, because he (honest man) being now growne aged, and -having lived all his life time very disordredly, fell day by day (according -to the Physicions judgement) from bad to worse, as no other way appeared -but death, whereat the brethren greatly greeved.</p> - -<p>Upon 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 gave him entertainement, and have allowed him honest physical attendance, -and he not having any way injuried or offended us, to let him -be suddenly expulsed our house (sicke to death as he is) it can be no way -for our credit.</p> - -<p>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 receive 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 absolve -him. And being not absolved, 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 coveting our spoile and overthrow; -upon this accident will cry out and mutiny against us; <i>Beholde -these Lombard dogs, which are not to be received into the Church, why should -we suffer them to live heere among us?</i> In furious madnesse wil they come -upon us, and our house, where (peradventure) not contented with robbing -us of our goods, our lives will remaine in their mercy and danger; -so that, in what sort soever it happen, this mans dying heere, must needs -be banefull to us.</p> - -<p>Master <i>Chappelet</i>, who (as we have formerly saide) was lodged neere to -the place where they thus conferred, having 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 unto him, thus hee -spake.</p> - -<p>I would not have you to be any way doubtfull of me; neither that you -shold receive the least damage by me: I have heard what you have 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 -have committed so many offences against our Lord God, in the whole -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 unto 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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Lombard</i>, -that lay verie weake and sicke in their house. And one was granted unto -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 them to their house. When he was come up into the Chamber where -Master <i>Chappelet</i> lay, and being there seated downe by him; he beganne -first to comfort him very lovingly, demanding also of him, howe many -times he had bin at confession? Whereto master <i>Chappelet</i> (who never -had bin shriven in all his life time) thus replied.</p> - -<p>Holy Father, I alwayes used (as a common custome) to bee confessed -once (at the least) every weeke, albeit sometimes much more often, but -true it is, that being faln into this sicknesse, now eight dayes since; I have -not bene confest, so violent hath bene the extremity of my weakenesse. -My sonne (answered the good old man) thou hast done well, and so keep -thee still hereafter in that minde: but I plainly perceive, seeing thou hast -so often confessed thy selfe, that I shall take the lesse labour in urging -questions to thee.</p> - -<p>Master <i>Chappelet</i> replied: Say not so good Father, for albeit I have -bene so oftentimes confessed, yet am I willing now to make a generall -confession, even of all sinnes comming to my remembrance, from the -very day of my birth, until this instant houre of my shrift. And therefore -I intreate you (holy Father) to make a particular demand of every thing, -even as if I had never bene confessed at al, and to make no respect of my -sicknesse: for I had rather be offensive to mine owne flesh, then by favouring -or allowing it ease, to hazard the perdition of my soule, which my -Redeemer bought with so precious a price.</p> - -<p>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 never offended with any Woman? Whereunto master <i>Chappelet</i> -(breathing foorth a great sigh) answered.</p> - -<p>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 never sinne. Then sayde Maister -<i>Chappelet</i>, Father, seeing you give me so good an assurance, I wil resolve -you faithfully heerein. I am so true a Virgin-man in this matter, even 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 lived, and -therein hast not meanly merited: having hadde so much libertie to doo -the contrary if thou wouldst, wherein very few of us can so answer for our -selves.</p> - -<p>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, over and beside -the Fasts of our Lent season, which everie yeare ought to bee dulie -observed by devout people, I brought my selfe to such a customarie use, -that I could fast three dayes in every Weeke, with Bread and Water. -But indeede (holy Father) I confesse, that I have drunke water with such -a pleasing appetite and delight (especially in praying, or walking on pilgrimages) -even as greedy drunkards do, in drinking good Wine. And -many times I have desired such Sallades of small hearbes, as Women -gather abroad in the open fields, and feeding onely upon them, without -coveting 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 swerveth from devotion, or is not done as it ought to -bee.</p> - -<p>Sonne, Sonne, replied the Confessour, these sinnes are naturall, and -very light, and therefore I would not have thee to charge thy conscience -with them, more then is needfull. It happeneth to every man (how holy -soever he be) that after he hath fasted over-long, feeding will be welcome -to him, and drinking good drinke after his travaile. O Sir (said Maister -<i>Chappelet</i>) never tell me this to comfort me, for well you know, and I am -not ignorant therein, that such things as are done for the service of God, -ought all to be performed purely, and without any blemish of the minde; -what otherwise is done, savoureth of sinne. The Friar being well contented -with his words, said: It is not amisse that thou understandest it in -this manner, and thy conscience thus purely cleared, is no little comfort -to me. But tell me now concerning Avarice, hast thou sinned therein? -by desiring more then was reasonable, or withholding from others, such -things as thou oughtst not to detaine? whereto Maister <i>Chappelet</i> answered. -Good Father, I would not have you to imagine, because you see -me lodged here in the house of two usurers, 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 have prevailed -therein, had not this violently sicknesse hindered mine intention. But -understand (holy Father) that my parents left me a rich man, and immediatly -after my fathers death, the greater part of his goods I gave away -for Gods sake, and then, to sustaine mine owne life, and to helpe the poore -members of Jesus Christ, I betooke my selfe to a meane estate of Merchandise, -desiring none other then honest gaine thereby, and evermore -whatsoever benefit came to me; I imparted halfe thereof to the poore, -converting mine owne small portion about my necessary affaires, which -that other part would scarcely serve to supply: yet alwayes God gave -thereto such a mercifull blessing, that my businesse dayly thrived more -and more, arising still from good to better.</p> - -<p>Well hast thou done therein good Sonne, said the Confessour: but -how often times hast thou beene angry? Oh Sir (said Maister <i>Chappelet</i>) -therein I assure yee, I have 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 -judgements. Many times in a day, I have rather wished my selfe dead -then living, beholding youth pursuing idle vanities, to sweare and forsweare -themselves, tipling in Tavernes, and never 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 over-ruled thee, as to commit murther or manslaughter, -or to speake evill of any man, or to doe any other such kinde of injurie? -Oh Father (answered Maister <i>Chappelet</i>) you that seeme to be a man -of God, how dare you use 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 have suffered me to live? These are deedes of darknesse, fit for villaines -and wicked livers; of which hellish crue, when at any time I have -happened to meete with some one of them; I have said, Goe, God convert -thee.</p> - -<p>Worthy, and charitable words, replied the Friar; but tell me Sonne, -Didst thou ever 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 <i>Chappelet</i>, I have spoken ill of another, because -I have 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 never did it, but -when he was overcome with drinke. Those were no ill words, quoth the -Friar; but I remember, you said that you were a Merchant: Did you ever -deceive any, as some Merchants use to doe? Truly Father, answered -Maister <i>Chappelet</i>, 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 never happening to meete with the man againe, after I had -kept them the space of a whole yeare, I then gave them away to foure -poore people for Gods sake.</p> - -<p>A small matter, said the Friar, & truly payed back again to the owner, -in bestowing them upon the poore. Many other questions hee demaunded -of him, whereto still he answered in the same manner: but before he -proceeded to absolution, Maister <i>Chappelet</i> spake thus. I have yet one -sinne more, which I have not revealed to you: when being urged 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 Saviour, and yet I have done no such reverence to the -Sunday or Sabaoth, as I ought to have done. A small fault Sonne, -replied the Friar. O no (quoth Maister <i>Chappelet</i>) doe not terme it a small -fault, because Sunday being a holy day, is highly to be reverenced: 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 use to spet there every day. The more is your -shame, answered Maister <i>Chappelet</i>, for no place ought to be kept more -pure and cleane then the sacred Temple, wherein our dayly sacrifices are -offered up to God.</p> - -<p>In this manner he held on an houre and more, uttering 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 mooved, said: Alas Sonne, what -aylest thou? Oh Father (quoth <i>Chappelet</i>) there remaineth yet one sinne -more upon my conscience, whereof I never at any time made confession, -so shamefull it appeareth to me to disclose it; and I am partly perswaded, -that God will never pardon me for that sinne. How now Sonne? said the -Friar, never say so; for if all the sinnes that ever 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 upon penitent confession, -he will freely pardon him, and therefore spare not to speak it boldly. -Alas Father (said <i>Chappelet</i>, still in pretended weeping) this sinne of mine -is so great, that I can hardly beleeve (if your earnest prayers doe not assist -me) that ever 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.</p> - -<p>Master <i>Chappelet</i> 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, even as if his -very heart would have broken, he saide; Holy Father, seeing you promise -to pray to God for me, I will reveale 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 greeved 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 neverthelesse, upon their hearty -repentance, he is alwayes ready to forgive them; and wilt not thou beleeve -to obtaine remission, for a sinne so ignorantly committed? Weepe -no more deare Sonne, but comfort thy selfe, and rest resolved, that if thou -wert one of them, who nayled our blessed Saviour to his Crosse; yet being -so truly repentant, as I see thou art, he would freely forgive thee. Say -you so Father? quoth <i>Chappelet</i>. 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 forgive me.</p> - -<p>When the religious man perceived, that nothing more was to be -confessed by Master <i>Chappelet</i>; he gave him absolution, and his owne benediction -beside, reputing him to be a most holy man, as verily beleeving -all that he had said. And who would not have done the like, hearing -a man to speake in that manner, and being upon the very point of death? -Afterward, he saide unto him; Master <i>Chappelet</i>, 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 -have your body buried in our Convent? Whereto Master <i>Chappelet</i> 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 have promised, -to pray to God for me; and beside, I have alwayes carried a religious devotion -to your Order. Wherefore, I beseech you, so soone as you are -come home to your Convent, prevaile so much by your good meanes, -that the holy Eucharist, consecrated this morning on your high Altar, -may be brought unto me: for although I confesse my selfe utterly unworthy, -yet I purpose (by your reverend permission) to receive it, as also -your holy and latest unction; to this ende, that having lived a greevous -sinner, I may yet (at the last) die a Christian. These words were pleasing -to the good olde man, and he caused every thing to be performed, according -as Master <i>Chappelet</i> had requested.</p> - -<p>The two Brethren, who much doubted the dissembling of <i>Chappelet</i>, -being both in a small partition, which sundered the sicke mans Chamber -from theirs, heard and understood 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 -themselves; 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 judgement 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 lived? Notwithstanding, seeing he had so ordered -the matter, that he had buriall freely allowed him, they cared for no more.</p> - -<p>After that <i>Chappelet</i> had received the Communion, and the other ceremonies -appointed for him; weakenesse encreasing on him more and -more, the very same day of his goodly confession, he died (not long after) -towards the evening. Whereupon the two Brethren tooke order, that -all needefull things should be in a readinesse, to have him buried honourably; -sending to acquaint the Fathers of the Convent therewith, that -they might come to say their <i>Vigilles</i>, 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 Convent, -and by sound of the house Bell, caused all the Brethren to assemble together, -giving them credibly to understand, that Master <i>Chappelet</i> 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 devoute solemnity and reverence; -whereto the Prior, and all the credulous Brethren presently condiscended -very gladly.</p> - -<p>When night was come, they went all to visit the dead body of Master -<i>Chappelet</i>, where they used an especiall and solemne <i>Vigill</i>; 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 devoute 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 up 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 observations) what <i>Chappelet</i> had confessed, as -this most great and greevous sinne, and how hardly he could be perswaded, -that God would grant him pardon for it. Whereby he tooke occasion -to reprove the people then present, saying; And you (accursed of God) for the -verie least and trifling matter hapning, will not spare to blaspheme God, -his blessed Mother, and the whole Court of heavenly Paradise: Oh, take -example by this singular man, this Saint-like man, nay, a verie Saint indeede.</p> - -<p>Many additions more he made, concerning his faithfulnesse, truth, & -integrity; so that, by the vehement asseveration of his words (whereto all -the people there present gave credible beleefe) he provoked them unto -such zeale and earnest devotion; 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 -themselves, that could get the smallest peece or shred or 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.</p> - -<p>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, devotion, and integrity of life, maintained constantly by -the Fathers of the Convent; that if any one fell sicke in neede, distresse, -or adversity, they would make their Vowes to no other Saint but him: -naming him (as yet to this day they do) Saint <i>Chappelet</i>, affirming upon -their Oathes, that infinite miracles were there daily performed by him, -and especially on such, as came in devotion to visit his shrine.</p> - -<p>In this manner lived and died Master <i>Chappelet du Prat</i>, who before he -became a Saint, was as you have heard: and I will not deny it to be impossible, -but that he may be at rest among other blessed bodies. For, although -he lived lewdly and wickedly, yet such might be his contrition in -the latest extreamity, that (questionlesse) he might finde mercie. But, -because such things remaine unknowne to us, and speaking by outwarde -appearance, vulgar judgement 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 us, that he regards not our errors, but the integrity -of our Faith, making (by meanes of our continuall Mediator) of -an open enemy, a converted sonne and servant. And as I began in his -name, so will I conclude, desiring that it may evermore be had in due reverence, -and referre we our selves thereto in all our necessities, with this -setled assurance, that he is alwayes readie to heare us. And so he ceased.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Abraham_a_Jew_being_admonished_or_advised_by_a_friend_of_his_named_Jehannot" id="Abraham_a_Jew_being_admonished_or_advised_by_a_friend_of_his_named_Jehannot"><i>Abraham a Jew, being admonished or advised by a friend of his, named Jehannot -de Chevigny, travailed from Paris unto Rome: And beholding there -the wicked behaviour of men in the Church, returned backe to Paris again, -where yet (neverthelesse) he became a Christian.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The Second Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is contained and expressed, the liberality and goodnesse of God, extended -to the Christian Faith.</i></h4> - - -<p>The Novell recited by <i>Pamphilus</i> was highly pleasing to the company, -and much commended by the Ladies: and after it had beene -diligently observed among them, the Queen commanded Madam <i>Neiphila</i> -(who was seated neerest to <i>Pamphilus</i>) 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.</p> - -<p><i>Pamphilus</i> hath declared to us by his Tale, how the goodnesse of God -regardeth not our errors, when they proceede from things which wee -cannot discerne. And I intend to approove by mine, what argument of -infallible truth, the same benignity delivereth of it selfe, by enduring patiently -the faults of them, that (both in word and worke) should declare -unfaigned testimony of such gracious goodnesse, and not to live so dissolutely -as they doe. To the end, that others illumined by their light of -life, may beleeve with the stronger constancy of minde.</p> - -<p>As I have heeretofore heard (Gracious Ladies) there lived a wealthy -Marchant in <i>Paris</i>, being a Mercer, or seller of Silkes, named <i>Jehannot de Chevigny</i>, -a man of faithful, honest, and upright dealing; who held great -affection and friendship with a very rich Jew, named <i>Abraham</i>, that was -a Merchant also, and a man of very direct conversation. <i>Jehannot</i> well -noting the honesty and loyall dealing of this Jew, began to have a Religious -kind of compassion in his soule, much pittying, that a man so good -in behaviour, so wise and discreete in all his actions, should be in danger -of perdition thorow want of Faith. In which regard, lovingly he began -to entreate him, that he would leave the errors of his Jewish beleefe, and -follow the truth of Christianity, which he evidently saw (as being good -and holy) daily to prosper and enlarge it selfe, whereas (on the contrary) -his profession decreased, and grew to nothing.</p> - -<p>The Jew made answer, that he beleeved nothing to be so good & holy, -as the Jewish Religion, and having beene borne therein, therein also -he purposed to live and dye, no matter whatsoever, being able to remove -him from that resolution. For all this stiffe deniall, <i>Jehannot</i> would not -so give him over; but pursued him still day by day, reitterating continually -his former speeches to him: delivering infinite excellent and pregnant -reasons, that Merchants themselves were not ignorant, how farre -the Christian faith excelled the Jewish falshoods. And albeit the Jew -was a very learned man in his owne law, yet notwithstanding, the intire -amity hee bare to <i>Jehannot</i>, or (perhaps) his words fortified by the blessed -Spirit, were so prevalent with him: that the Jew felt a pleasing apprehension -in them, though his obstinacie stood (as yet) farre off from conversion. -But as hee thus continued strong in opinion, so <i>Jehannot</i> left not -hourely to labour him: in so much that the Jew, being conquered by -such earnest and continuall importunity, one day spake to <i>Jehannot</i> -thus.</p> - -<p>My worthy friend <i>Jehannot</i>, thou art extremely desirous, that I should -convert to Christianity, and I am well contended to doe it, onely upon -this condition. That first I will journey 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 endeavourest to perswade me: -I will become a Christian as thou art, but if I finde it otherwise, I will continue -a Jew as I am.</p> - -<p>When <i>Jehannot</i> heard these words, he became exceeding sorrowfull, saide -within himselfe. I have lost all the paines, which I did thinke to be well -imployed, as hoping to have this man converted here: For, if he goe to -the Court of Rome, and behold there the wickednes of the Priests lives; -farewell all hope in me, of ever seeing him to become a Christian. But -rather, were he already a Christian, without all question, he would turne -Jew: And so (going neerer to <i>Abraham</i>) he said. Alas my loving friend, -why shouldst thou undertake such a tedious travell, and so great a charge, -as thy journey from hence to Rome will cost thee? Consider, that to a -rich man (as thou art) travaile by land or sea is full of infinite dangers. -Doest thou not thinke, that here are Religious men enow, who will gladly -bestowe Baptisme upon thee. To me therefore it plainely appeareth, -that such a voyage is to no purpose. If thou standest upon 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 resolve 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, reserve this journey to some -time more convenient, when the Jubilee of generall pardon happeneth, -and then (perchance) I will beare thee company, and goe along with thee -as in vowed pilgrimage.</p> - -<p>Whereto the Jew replied. I beleeve <i>Jehannot</i>, that all which thou hast -said may be so. But, to make short with thee, I am fully determined (if -thou wouldst have me a Christian, as thou instantly urgest me to be) to -goe thither, for otherwise, I will continue as I am. <i>Jehannot</i> perceiving -his setled purpose, said: Goe then in Gods name. But perswaded himselfe, -that hee would never become a Christian, after hee had once seene -the Court of Rome: neverthelesse, he counted his labour not altogether -lost, in regard he bestowed it to a good end, and honest intentions are to -be commended.</p> - -<p>The Jew mounted on horse-backe, and made no lingering in his journey -to Rome, where being arrived, he was very honourably entertained -by other Jewes dwelling in Rome. And during the time of his abiding -there (without revealing to any one, the reason of his comming thither) -very heedfully he observed, the manner of the Popes life, of the Cardinals, -Prelates, and all the Courtiers. And being a man very discreete and -judicious, he apparantly perceived, 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. Moreover, drunkards, belly-Gods, and -servants of the paunch, more then of any thing else (even like brutish -beasts after their luxurie) were every where to be met withall. And, upon -further observation, hee saw all men so covetous and greedy of coyne, -that every 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 divinest qualities, how, or to whomsoever appertaining, were -it for sacrifices or benefices, whereof was made no meane Merchandize, -and more Brokers were there to be found (then in <i>Paris</i> attending upon -all Trades) of manifest Symonie, under the nice name of Negotiation, -and for gluttony, not sustentation: even as if God had not knowne the -signification of vocables, nor the intentions of wicked hearts, but would -suffer himselfe to be deceived by the outward names of things, as wretched -men commonly use to doe.</p> - -<p>These things, and many more (fitter for silence, then publication) -were so deepely displeasing to the Jew, being a most sober and modest -man; that he had soone seene enough, resolving on his returne to <i>Paris</i>, -which very speedily he performed. And when <i>Jehannot</i> heard of his arrivall, -crediting much rather other newes from him, then ever to see him -a converted Christian; he went to welcome him, and kindly they feasted -one another. After some fewe dayes of resting, <i>Jehannot</i> demaunded of -him; what he thought of our holy father the Pope and his Cardinals, and -generally of all the other Courtiers? Whereto the Jew readily answered; -It is strange <i>Jehannot</i>, that God should give 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 have both heard and seene: I could then have resolved my -selfe, never to have found in any Priest, either sanctity, devotion, good -worke, example of honest life, or any good thing else beside. But if a -man desire to see luxury, avarice, gluttony, and such wicked things, yea, -worse, if worse may be, and held in generall estimation of all men; let -him but goe to <i>Rome</i>, which I thinke rather to be the forge of damnable -actions, then any way leaning to grace or goodnesse. And, for ought I -could perceive, me thinkes your chiefe Pastour, and (consequently) all the -rest of his dependants, doe strive so much as they may (with all their engine -arte and endeavour) to bring to nothing, or else to banish quite out -of the world, Christian Religion, whereof they should be the support and -foundation.</p> - -<p>But because I perceive, that their wicked intent will never come to -passe, but contrariwise, that your faith enlargeth itselfe, shining every -day much more cleare and splendant: I gather thereby evidently, 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 never minded to become a -Christian: now I freely open my heart unto thee, that nothing in the -world can or shall hinder me, but I will be a Christian, as thou art. Let -us therefore presently goe to the Church, and there (according to the -true custome of your holy faith) helpe me to be baptized.</p> - -<p><i>Jehannot</i>, 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 <i>Nostre Dame</i> in <i>Paris</i>, where -he requested the Priests there abiding, to bestow baptisme on <i>Abraham</i>, -which they joyfully did, hearing him so earnestly to desire it. <i>Jehannot</i> -was his Godfather, and named him <i>John</i>, and afterward, by learned Divines -he was more fully instructed in the grounds of our faith; wherein -he grew of greatly understanding, and led a very vertuous life.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Melchisedech_a_Jew_by_recounting_a_Tale_of_three_Rings_to_the_great_Soldan" id="Melchisedech_a_Jew_by_recounting_a_Tale_of_three_Rings_to_the_great_Soldan"><i>Melchisedech a Jew, by recounting a Tale of three Rings, to the great Soldan, -named Saladine, prevented a great danger which was prepared for him.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The third Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Whereby the Author, approving the Christian Faith, sheweth, how beneficiall -a sodaine and ingenious answer may fall out to bee, especially when a man -finds himselfe in some evident danger.</i></h4> - - -<p>Madame <i>Neiphila</i> having ended her Discourse, which was well allowed -of by all the company; it pleased the Queene, that Madam <i>Philomena</i> -should next succeede in order, who thus began.</p> - -<p>The Tale delivered by <i>Neiphila</i>, maketh mee remember a doubtfull -case, which sometime hapned to another Jew. And because that God, -and the truth of his holy Faith, hath bene already very wel discoursed on: -it shall not seeme unfitting (in my poore opinion) to descend now into -the accidents of men. Wherefore, I will relate a matter unto you, which -being attentively heard and considered; may make you much more circumspect, -in answering to divers questions and demands, then (perhaps) -otherwise you would be. Consider then (most woorthy assembly) that -like as folly or dulnesse, many times hath overthrowne some men from -place of eminencie, into most great and greevous miseries: even so, discreet -sense and good understanding, hath delivered many out of irksome -perils, and seated them in safest security. And to prove it true, that folly -hath made many fall from high authority, into poore and despised calamity; -may be avouched by infinite examples, which now were needeless -to remember: But, that good sense and able understanding, may -proove to be the occasion of great desolation, without happy prevention, -I will declare unto you in very few words, and make it good according -to my promise.</p> - -<p><i>Saladine</i>, was a man so powerfull and valiant, as not onely his very valour -made him Soldan of Babylon, but also gave him many signall victories, -over Kings of the Sarrazens, and of Christians likewise. Having -in divers 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 use some great summe of money, yet not -readily knowing where, or how to procure it; he remembred a rich Jew -named <i>Melchisedech</i>, that lent out money to use or interest in the City of -<i>Alexandria</i>. 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 device whereby -he might have it: he concluded, though hee might not compell him to -do it, yet by a practise shadowed with good reason to ensnare him. And -having sent for him entertained him very familiarly in his Court, and sitting -downe by him, thus began.</p> - -<p>Honest man, I have 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, which of -those three Lawes or Religions, thou takest to be truest; that of the Jew, -the other of the Sarazen, or that of the Christian? The Jew, being a very -wise man, plainly perceived, that <i>Saladine</i> sought to entrap him in his -answer, and so to raise some quarrell against him. For, if he commended -any one of those Lawes above the other, he knew that <i>Saladine</i> 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.</p> - -<p>My Lord, the question propounded by you, is faire and worthy, & to -answer mine opinion truly thereof, 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 have oftentimes heard it reported, that (long since) there was -a very wealthy man, who (among other precious Jewels of his owne) had -a goodly Ring of great valew; the beauty and estimation whereof, made -him earnestly desirous to leave 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 reverenced 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.</p> - -<p>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 (coveting to beare esteeme above the other) desired (as hee -could best make his meanes) his father, that in regard he was now grown -very old, he would leave that Ring to him, whereby he should bee acknowledged -for his heire. The good man, who loved no one of them -more then the other, knew not how to make his choise, nor to which of -them he should leave the Ring: yet having past his promise to them severally, -he studied by what meanes to satisfie them all three. Wherefore, -secretly having 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.</p> - -<p>Lying upon his death-bed, and his Sonnes then plying him by their -best opportunities, he gave to each of them a Ring. And they (after his -death) presuming severally upon their right to the inheritance & honour, -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 given by God the Father, to three such people as you have propounded: -each of them do imagine that they have 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.</p> - -<p><i>Saladine</i> well perceyving, that the Jew was too cunning to be caught -in his snare, and had answered so well, that to doe him further violence, -would redound unto his perpetuall dishonour; resolved to reveale his -neede and extremity, and try if he would therein friendly sted him. Having -disclosed the matter, and how he purposed to have dealt with him, -if he had not returned so wise an answer; the Jew lent him so great a sum -of money as hee demanded, and <i>Saladine</i> repayed it againe to him justly, -giving him other great gifts beside: respecting him as his especiall friend, -and maintaining him in very honourable condition, -neere unto his owne person.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="A_Monke_having_committed_an_offence_deserving_to_be_very_grievously_punished" id="A_Monke_having_committed_an_offence_deserving_to_be_very_grievously_punished"><i>A Monke, having committed an offence, deserving to be very grievously punished; -freede himselfe from the paine to be inflicted on him, by wittily reprehending -his Abbot, with the very same fault.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The fourth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein may be noted, that such men as will reprove those errors in others, -which remaine in themselves, commonly are the Authors of their owne reprehension.</i></h4> - - -<p>So ceased Madam <i>Philomena</i>, after the conclusion of her Tale, when -<i>Dioneus</i> sitting next unto 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.</p> - -<p>Gracious Ladies, if I faile not in understanding your generall intention; -we are purposely assembled here to tell Tales, and especially such as -may please our selves. In which respect, because nothing should be done -disorderly, I hold it lawfull for every one (as our Queene decreed before -her dignity) to relate such a novelty, as (in their owne judgement) may -cause most contentment. Wherefore having heard, that by the good admonitions -of <i>Jehannot de Chevigny</i>, <i>Abraham</i> the Jew was advised to the -salvation of his soule, and <i>Melchisedech</i> (by his witty understanding) defended -his riches from the traines of <i>Saladine</i>: I now purpose to tell you -in a few plaine words, (without feare of receiving any reprehension) how -cunningly a Monke compassed his deliverance, from a punishment intended -towards him.</p> - -<p>There was in the Country of <i>Lunigiana</i> (which is not farre distant from -our owne) a Monastery, which sometime was better furnished with holinesse -and Religion, then nowadayes they are; wherein lived (among -divers other) a young novice Monke, whose hot and lusty disposition (being -in the vigour of his yeeres) was such, as neither fastes nor prayers had -any great power over 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) uppon -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.</p> - -<p>Lascivious desire, and no religious devotion, made him draw neere -her, and whether under shrift (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 prevailed upon her frailety, and such a -bargaine passed betweene them, that (from the Church) he wonne her to -his Chamber, before any person could perceive it. Now, while this yong -lusty Monke (transported with over-fond affection) was more carelesse -of his dalliance, then he should have beene; the Lord Abbot, being newly -arisen from sleepe, and walking softly about the Cloyster, came to the -Monkes Dorter 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 perceived, that -a woman was within. Wherewith being much moved, he intended suddenly -to make him open the doore; but (upon better consideration) hee -conceived it farre more fitting for him, to returne backe to his owne -chamber, and tary untill the Monke should come forth.</p> - -<p>The Monke, though his delight with the Damosel was extraordinary, -yet feare and suspition followed upon it: for, in the very height of all his -wantonnesse, he heard a soft treading about the doore. And prying thorow -a small crevice in the same doore, perceived 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 veneriall Monke knew well enough (though wanton heate would -not let him heede it before) that most greevous punishment must be inflicted -on him; which made him sad beyond all measure. Neverthelesse, -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 have it: whereupon seeming satisfied for that season, -hee tolde the Damosell, that (being carefull of her credit) as he had -brought her in unseen of any, so he would free her from thence again, desiring -her to tarrie there (without making any noyse at all) until such time -as he returned to her.</p> - -<p>Going forth of the Chamber, and locking it fast with the key, he went -directly to the Lord Abbots lodging, and delivering him the saide key (as -every Monke used to doe the like, when he went abroade out of the Convent) -setting a good countenance on the matter, boldly saide; My Lord, -I have not yet brought in all my part of the wood, which lieth ready cut -downe in the Forrest; and having now convenient time to doe it, if you -please to give me leave, I will goe and fetch it. The Abbot perswading -himselfe, that he had not beene discovered by the Monke, and to be resolved -more assuredly in the offence committed; being not a little jocund -of so happy an accident, gladly tooke the key, and gave him leave to fetch -the wood.</p> - -<p>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 have no occasion of murmuring against -him, when he proceeded in the Monkes punishment; or rather should first -understand 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 have her disgraced before all the Monkes. Wherefore he concluded, -first to see (himselfe) what shee was, and then (afterward) to resolve upon -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 receive publike shame, by being -betrayed in this unkinde manner.</p> - -<p>My Lord Abbot looking demurely on the Maide, and perceiving her -to be faire, feate, and lovely; 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 privately with himselfe. -Why should I not take pleasure, when I may freely have it? Cares and -molestations I endure every day, but sildome find such delights prepared -for me. This is a delicate sweete young Damosell, and here is no eye that -can discover me. If I can enduce her to doe as I would have 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 never befall me; and therefore I -hold it wisedome, to take such a benefit when a man may enjoy it.</p> - -<p>Upon 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 prevent one shame by another, -was easily wonne to the Abbots will, which caused him to embrace -and kisse her often.</p> - -<p>Our lusty young novice Monke, whom the Abbot imagined to be -gone for wood, had hid himselfe aloft upon 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 undoubted certainty. -A little chincke or crevice favoured him, whereat he could both -heare and see, whatsoever was done or spoken by them: so, when the Abbot -thought hee had staide long enough with the Damosell, leaving her -still there, and locking the doore fast againe, hee returned thence to his -owne Chamber.</p> - -<p>Within some short while after, the Abbot knowing the Monke to be -in the Convent, and supposing him to be lately returned with the wood, -determined to reprove him sharpely, and to have 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 -giving him many harsh and bitter speeches, commanded, that he should -be clapt in prison.</p> - -<p>The Monke very readily answered, saying. My good Lord, I have not -yet beene so long in the order of Saint <i>Benedict</i>, as to learne all the particularities -thereto belonging. And beside Sir, you never shewed mee or -any of my brethren, in what manner we young Monkes ought to use women, -as you have otherwise done for our custome of prayer and fasting. -But seeing you have 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 never faile therein againe, but dayly -follow what I have seene you doe.</p> - -<p>The Abbot, being a man of quicke apprehension, perceived 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 deserved as much himselfe; pardoning him, -and imposing silence on eithers offence: they convayed the poore abused -Damosell forth of their doores, she purposing (never after) to transgresse -in the like manner.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="The_Lady_Marquesse_of_Montferrat_with_a_Banquet_of_Hennes_and_divers" id="The_Lady_Marquesse_of_Montferrat_with_a_Banquet_of_Hennes_and_divers"><i>The Lady Marquesse of</i> Montferrat, <i>with a Banquet of Hennes, and divers -other gracious speeches beside, repressed the fond love of the King of</i> France.</a></h4> - -<h2>The fift Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>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.</i></h4> - - -<p>The tale reported by <i>Dioneus</i>, at the first hearing of the -Ladies, began to rellish of some immodestie, as the bashfull -blood mounting up into their faces, delivered 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 gave 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 <i>Fiammetta</i>, (sitting on a banke of flowers before -her) to take her turne as next in order: and she, smiling with such a virgin-blush, -as very beautifully became her, began in this manner.</p> - -<p>It is no little joy to me, that wee understand so well (by the discourses -already past) what power consisteth in the delivery of wise and ready answeres; -And because it is a great part offence and judgement in men, to -affect women of great birth and quality, then themselves, as also an admirable -fore-sight in women, to keepe off from being surprized in love, -by Lords going beyond them in degree: a matter offereth it selfe to my -memory, well deserving 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.</p> - -<p>The Marquesse of <i>Montferrat</i> was a worthy and valiant Knight, who -being Captaine Generall for the Church, the necessary service required -his company on the Seas, in a goodly Army of the Christians against the -Turkes. Upon a day, in the Court of King <i>Philip</i>, sirnamed the one eyed -King (who likewise made preparation in <i>France</i>, for a royall assistance to -that expedition) as many speeches were delivered, concerning the valour -and manhood of this Marquesse: it fortuned, that a Knight was -then present, who knew him very familiarly, and hee gave an addition to -the former commendation, that 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; -even 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 <i>Philip</i>, that suddainly (having as yet never seene -her) he began to affect her very earnestly, concluding to embarque himselfe -at <i>Gennes</i> or <i>Genoua</i>, there to set forward on the intended voyage, -and journeying thither by land: hee would shape some honest excuse to -see the Lady Marquesse, whose Lord being then from home, opinion -perswaded him over-fondly, that he should easily obtaine the issue of his -amorous desire.</p> - -<p>When hee was come within a dayes journey, 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 judicious; -answered the Messenger, that she reputed the Kings comming to her, as -an extraordinary grace and favour, and that hee should be most heartily -welcome. Afterward, entring into further consideration with her selfe, -what the King might meane by this private 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 deceived) -that babling report of her beauty and perfections, might thus occasion -the Kings comming thither, his journy lying else a quite contrary way. Notwithstanding, -being a Princely Lady, and so loyall a wife as ever lived, -shee intended to give him her best entertainement: summoning the -chiefest Gentlemen in the Country together, to take due order (by their -advise) for giving the King a gracious welcome. But concerning the -dinner, and diet for service to his table; that remained onely at her owne -disposing.</p> - -<p>Sending presently abroade, and buying all the Hennes that the Country -afforded; shee commaunded her Cookes, that onely of them (without -any other provision beside) they should prepare all the services that -they could devise. 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 -ever he had seene before; whereat he mervailed 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.</p> - -<p>Plenty of dishes being served 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. Neverthelesse, observing each service -after other, and that all the Viands (though variously cooked, and in -divers 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 marvell the more, -that nothing was provided for him, but Hennes onely: wherein to be the -better resolved, 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 understanding 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 wives, howsoever they differ in garments and graces one from -another; yet notwithstanding, they are all heere as they be in other -places.</p> - -<p>When the King heard this reply, he knew well enough the occasion of -his Henne dinner, as also, what vertue lay couched under her answer; -perceiving apparantly, that wanton words would prove 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 unkingly 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 -<i>Gennes</i>.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="An_honest_plaine_meaning_man_simply_and_conscionably_reprehended_the_malignity" id="An_honest_plaine_meaning_man_simply_and_conscionably_reprehended_the_malignity"><i>An honest plaine meaning man, (simply and conscionably) reprehended the malignity, -hypocrisie, and misdemeanour of many Religious persons.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The sixt Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Declaring, that in few, discreete, and well placed words, the covered craft of -Church-men may be justly reproved, and their hypocrisie honestly discovered.</i></h4> - - -<p>Madam <i>Æmilia</i> sitting next to the gentle Lady <i>Fiammetta</i>, perceiving -the modest chastisement, which the vertuous Lady Marquesse had -given to the King of <i>France</i>, was generally graced by the whole Assembly; -began (after the Queene had thereto appointed her) in these words. -Nor will I conceale the deserved reprehension, which an honest simple -lay-man, gave to a covetous holy Father, in very few words; yet more to -be commended, then derided.</p> - -<p>Not long since (worthy Ladies) there dwelt in our owne native 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 understanding; and yet not so defective 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 judgement they could have done.</p> - -<p>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 never 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 up full with -no meane abundance: <i>cum gladiis & fustibus</i>; 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, understanding -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.</p> - -<p>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 uttered. Presently the Inquisitor, most devoutly addicted -to Saint <i>John</i> 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 Taverne 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 deserveth fire and faggot, if I should proceede in Justice 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 believe 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 eare, and -(by secret means) so annointed his hands with Saint <i>Johns</i> golden grease, -(a very singular remedy against the disease pestilentiall in covetous -Priests, especially Friars Minors, that dare touch no money) as the case -became very quickly altered.</p> - -<p>This soveraigne unction was of such vertue (though <i>Galen</i> speakes not -a word thereof among all his chiefest medicines) and so farre prevailed; -that the terrible threatening words of fire and fagot, became meerely frozen -up, and gracious language blew a more gentle and calmer ayre; the -Inquisitor delivering him an hallowed Crucifixe, creating him a Souldier -of the Crosse (because he had payed Crosses good store for it) and even -as if he were to travell under that Standard to the holy Land; so did hee -appoint him a home-paying pennance, namely, to visit him thrice every -weeke in his Chamber, and to annoint his hands with the selfe-same yellow -unguent, 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.</p> - -<p>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 injunction) to heare Masse, in the Gospell he observed -these wordes; <i>You shall receive an hundred for one, and so possesse eternall -life</i>; 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 have heard, but doe beleeve all constantly; onely one thing -troubleth me much, and maketh me very compassionate of you, and of -all these holy Fathers your brethren, perceiving 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 moved to such -compassion of us? O good Sir, saide the man, doe you remember the -words in the Gospell this morning? you shall receive an hundred for -one. That is very true, replied the Inquisitor, but what moveth thee to -urge those words?</p> - -<p>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 have daily seene -many poore people at your doore, and (out of your abundance) when -you and your brethren have fed sufficiently, every one hath had a good -messe of pottage: now Sir, if for every dishfull given, you are sure to receive -an hundred againe, you will all be meerely drowned in pottage. Although -the rest (sitting at the Table with the Inquisitor) laughed heartily -at this jest; yet he found himselfe toucht in another nature, having (hypocritically) -received for one poore offence, above 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.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Bergamino_by_telling_a_Tale_of_a_skilfull_man_named_Primasso_and_of_an_Abbot" id="Bergamino_by_telling_a_Tale_of_a_skilfull_man_named_Primasso_and_of_an_Abbot"><i>Bergamino, by telling a Tale of a skilfull man, named</i> Primasso, <i>and of an Abbot -of Clugni; honestly checked a new kinde of covetousnesse, in Master</i> -Can de la Scala.</a></h4> - -<h2>The seaventh Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Approving, that it is much unfitting for a Prince, or great person, to be covetous; -but rather to be liberall to all men.</i></h4> - - -<p>The curteous demeanor of Madam <i>Æmilia</i>, and the quaintnesse of her -discourse, caused both the Queene, and the rest of the company, to -commend the invention of carrying the Crosse, and the golden oyntment -appointed for pennance. Afterward, <i>Philostratus</i>, who was in order to -speake next, began in this manner.</p> - -<p>It is a commendable thing (faire Ladies) to hit a But that never stirreth -out of his place: but it is a matter much more admirable, to see a thing -(suddenly appearing, and sildome or never frequented before) to be as -suddenly hit by an ordinary Archer. The vicious and polluted lives of -Priests, yeeldeth matter of it selfe in many things, deserving 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 giving 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 reproved Master <i>Can de la Scala</i>, a Magnifico and mightie -Lord, for a sudden and unaccustomed covetousnesse appearing in him, -figuring by other men, that which he intended to say of him, in manner -following.</p> - -<p>Master <i>Can de la Scala</i>, as fame ranne abroade of him in all places, was -(beyond the infinite favours of Fortune towards him) one of the most -notable and magnificent Lords that ever lived in <i>Italy</i>, since the dayes of -<i>Fredericke</i> the second Emperour. He determining to procure a very solemne -assembly at <i>Verona</i>, and many people being met there from divers -places, especially Gentlemen of all degrees; suddenly (upon 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 -unrespected, or in any kinde sort sent away, whose name was <i>Bergamino</i>, -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 over long delayed, yet hee made no -doubt of a beneficiall ending.</p> - -<p>By some enemies of his, Master <i>Can de la Scala</i> was incensed, that whatsoever -he gave or bestowed on him; was as ill imployed and utterly 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 over, and <i>Bergamino</i> -perceiving, that hee was neither called, nor any account made of, notwithstanding -many manly good parts in him; observing beside, that hee -found a shrewd consumption in his purse, his Inne, horses, and servants -being chargeable to him: he began to grow extremely melancholly, and -yet hee attended in expectation day by day, as thinking it farre unfitting -for him, to depart before he was bidden farewell.</p> - -<p>Having brought with him thither three goodly rich garments, which -had beene given him by sundry Lords, for his more sightly appearance -at this great meeting: the importunate Host being greedy of payment, -first he delivered him one of them, and yet not halfe the score being wiped -off, the second must needes follow, and beside, except he meant to leave -his lodging, hee must live upon the third so long as it would last, till hee -saw what end his hopes would sort to. It fortuned, during the time of -living thus upon his latest refuge, that he met with Maister <i>Can</i> one day -at dinner, where he presented himselfe before him, with a discontented -countenance: which Master <i>Can</i> well observing, more to distaste him, -then take delight in any thing that could come from him, he said. <i>Bergamino</i>, -how chearest thou? Thou art very melancholly, I pray thee tell us -why? <i>Bergamino</i> suddenly, without any premeditation, yet seeming as if -he had long considered thereon, reported this Tale.</p> - -<p>Sir, I have heard of a certaine man, named <i>Primasso</i>, 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 never saw him, but onely heard of him, could easily say, this -is <i>Primasso</i>. It came to passe, that being once at <i>Paris</i>, in poore estate, as -commonly hee could light on no better fortune (because vertue is slenderly -rewarded, by such as have the greatest possessions) he heard much -fame of the Abbot of <i>Clugni</i>, 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 -never made refusall of any (from whence so ever hee came or went) but -they did eate and drinke freely there; provided, that they came when -the Abbot was set at the Table. <i>Primasso</i> hearing this, and being an earnest -desirer, to see magnificent and vertuous men; he resolved to goe see -this rare bounty of the Abbot, demaunding how far he dwelt from <i>Paris</i>. -Being answered, about some three leagues thence; <i>Primasso</i> made account, -that if he went on betimes in the morning, he should easily reach -thither before the houre for dinner.</p> - -<p>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 loaves of bread with him, knowing that he could meete -with water every where, albeit he used to drinke but little. Having aptly -convayed his bread about him, he went on his journey, and arrived at the -Lord Abbots Court, an indifferent while before dinner time: wherefore, -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 provision 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.</p> - -<p>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 every one -sitting downe at the Table: it fell to the lot of <i>Primasso</i>, 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 served to -any, of the Tables, untill the Lord Abbot was himselfe first sette: -whereupon, every thing being fitte and readie, the Maister of the -houshold, went to tell his Lord, that nothing now wanted but his presence -onely.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Primasso</i>, -who being but in homely habite, and he having not seene him before to -his remembrance; a present bad conceite possessed his braine, that he never -saw an unworthier person, saying within himselfe: See how I give -my goods away to be devoured. So returning backe to his Chamber -againe, commaunded the doore to be made fast, demaunding of every -man neere about him, if they knew the base Knave that sate before his -entrance into the Hall, and all his servants answered no. <i>Primasso</i> being -extreamely hungry, with travailing on foote so farre, and never used to -fast so long; expecting still when meate would be served in, and that the -Abbot came not at all: drew out one of his loaves which hee brought -with him, and very heartily fell to feeding.</p> - -<p>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 servant -told him, that he still stayed there, and fed upon 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 <i>Primasso</i> should have gone thence of himselfe, and yet -held it scarsely honest in his Lordship, to dismisse him by his owne command. -<i>Primasso</i> having eaten one of his Loaves, and yet the Abbot was -not come; began to feede upon the second: the Abbot still sending to -expect his absence, and answered as he was before. At length, the Abbot -not comming, and <i>Primasso</i> having eaten up his second loafe, hunger -compeld him to begin with the third.</p> - -<p>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 whatsoever? I have -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 knave, never refraining -my presence in the Hall, by basely contemning one poore man. Beleeve -me, covetousnesse 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 deserve more honour -then I am able to give him.</p> - -<p>Having thus discoursed with himselfe, he would needs understande of -whence and what he was, and finding him to be <i>Primasso</i>, come onely to -see the magnificence which he had reported of him, knowing also (by the -generall fame noysed every where of 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, strove many waies how -to do him honour. When dinner was ended, the Abbot bestowed honourable -garments on him, such as beseemed his degree and merit, and putting -good store of money in his purse, as also giving 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 <i>Primasso</i> being highly -contented, yeelding him the heartiest thankes he could devise to doe, -returned to <i>Paris</i> on horse-back, albeit he came poorly thether on foot.</p> - -<p>Master <i>Can de la Scala</i>, who was a man of good understanding, perceyved -immediately (without any further interpretation) what <i>Bergamino</i> -meant by this morall, and smiling on him, saide: <i>Bergamino</i>, thou hast -honestly expressed thy vertue and necessities, and justly reprooved mine -avarice, niggardnesse, and base folly. And trust me <i>Bergamino</i>, I never -felt such a fit of covetousness come upon me, as this which I have dishonestly -declared to thee: and which I will now banish from me, with the -same correction as thou hast taught mee. So, having 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.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Guillaume_Boursier_with_a_few_quaint_and_familiar_words_checkt_the_miserable" id="Guillaume_Boursier_with_a_few_quaint_and_familiar_words_checkt_the_miserable"><i>Guillaume Boursier, with a few quaint and familiar words, checkt the miserable -covetousnesse of Signior</i> Herminio de Grimaldi.</a></h4> - -<h2>The eight Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Which plainly declareth, that a covetous Gentleman, is not worthy of any honour -or respect.</i></h4> - - -<p>Madam <i>Lauretta</i>, sitting next to <i>Philostratus</i>, when she had heard the -witty conceite of <i>Bergamino</i>; knowing, that shee was to say somewhat, -without injunction or command, pleasantly thus began.</p> - -<p>This last discourse (faire and vertuous company) induceth mee to tell -you, how an honest Courtier reprehended in like manner (and nothing -unprofitably) base covetousnesse in a Merchant of extraordinary wealth. -Which Tale, although (in effect) it may seeme to resemble the former; -yet perhaps, it will prove no lesse pleasing to you, in regard it sorted to -as good an end.</p> - -<p>It is no long time since, that there lived in <i>Genes</i> or <i>Geneway</i>, a Gentleman -named Signior <i>Herminio de Grimaldi</i>, who (as every one wel knew) -was more rich in inheritances, and ready summes of currant mony, then -any other knowne Citizen in <i>Italy</i>. And as hee surpassed other men in -wealth, so did he likewise excell them in wretched Avarice, being so miserably -greedy and covetous, as no man in the world could be more wicked -that way; because, not onely he kept his purse lockt up from pleasuring -any, but denied needful things to himself, enduring many miseries & -distresses, onely to avoide expences, contrary to the <i>Genewayes</i> generall -custome, who alwayes delighted to be decently cloathed, and to have -their dyet of the best. By reason of which most miserable basenesse, they -tooke from him the sir-name of <i>Grimaldi</i>, whereof hee was in right descended: -and called him master <i>Herminio</i> the covetous Mizer, a nickname -very notably agreeing with his gripple nature.</p> - -<p>It came to passe, that in this time of his spending nothing, but multiplying -daily by infinite meanes, that a civill honest Gentleman (a Courtier, -of ready wit, and discoursive in Languages) came to <i>Geneway</i>, being -named <i>Guillaume Boursier</i>. A man very farre differing from divers -Courtiers in these dayes, who for soothing shamefull and gracelesse manners, -in such as allow them maintenance, are called and reputed to bee -Gentlemen, yea especiall favourites: whereas much more worthily, they -should be accounted as knaves and villaines, being borne and bred in all -filthinesse, and skilfull in every kinde of basest behaviour, 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 loving speeches) would recreate disturbed mindes, desiring none -but commendable exercises in Court, and sharpely reprooving (like fathers) -disordred life, or ill actions in any, albeit with recompence little, -or none at all: these upstarts 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, upbraiding him with injuries, shames, and scandals -(true or not true) upon the very least occasion. And by false and deceitfull -flatteries and villanies of their own inventing, they make Gentlemen -to become as vile as themselves. For which detestable qualities, they are -better beloved and respected of theyr misdemeanour'd Lords, and recompenced -in more bountifull manner, then men of vertuous carriage and desert. -Which is an argument sufficient, that goodnesse is gone up to heaven, -and hath quite forsaken these loathed lower Regions, where men are -drowned in the mud of all abhominable vices.</p> - -<p>But returning where I left (being led out of my way by a just and religious -anger against such deformity) this Gentleman, Master <i>Guillaume -Boursier</i>, was willingly seene, and gladly welcommed by all the best men -in <i>Geneway</i>. Having remayned some few dayes in the City, & (among -other matters) heard much talke of the miserable covetousnes of master -<i>Herminio</i>, he grew verie desirous to have a sight of him. Master <i>Herminio</i> -had already understood, that this Gentleman, Master <i>Guillaume Boursier</i>, -was vertuously disposed, and (how covetously soever he was inclined) having -in him some sparkes of noble nature; gave him very good words, and -gracious entertainement, discoursing with him on divers occasions.</p> - -<p>In company of other <i>Genewayes</i> with him, he 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 <i>Guillaume</i>, -no doubt but you have heard and seene many things, and you can -instruct me in some quaint conceit or devise, to be fairely figured in painting, -at the entrance into the great Hall of my House. Master <i>Guillaume</i> -hearing him speake so simply, returned him this answere; Sir, I cannot advise -you in any thing, so rare or unseen as you talke of: but how to sneeze -(after a new manner) upon a full and overcloyed stomacke, to avoide -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, wherewith -(as yet) you never came acquainted.</p> - -<p>Master <i>Herminio</i> hearing him say so, and expecting no such answere as -he had saide; Good Master <i>Guillaume</i>, tell me what it is, and on my faith -I will have it fairely painted. Whereto Master <i>Guillaume</i> suddenly replied: -Doe nothing but this Sir; Paint over the Portall at your Halles entrance, -the lively picture of Liberality, to bid all your friends better welcome, -then hitherto they have beene. When Master <i>Herminio</i> heard -these words, he became possessed with such a sudden shame, that his complexion -changed from the former palenesse, and answered thus. Master -<i>Guillaume</i>, I will have your advice so truly figured over my gate, and shee -shall give so good welcome to all my guests, that both you, and all these -Gentlemen shall say; I have both seene her, and am become reasonably -acquainted with her. From that time forward, the words of Master <i>Guillaume</i> -were so effectuall with Signior <i>Herminio</i>, that he became the most -bountifull and best house-keeper, which lived in his time in <i>Geneway</i>; no -man more honouring and friendly welcoming both strangers and Citizens, -then he continually used to doe.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="The_King_of_Cyprus_was_wittily_reprehended_by_the_words_of_a_Gentlewoman" id="The_King_of_Cyprus_was_wittily_reprehended_by_the_words_of_a_Gentlewoman"><i>The King of Cyprus was wittily reprehended, by the words of a Gentlewoman -of Gascoignie, and became vertuously altered from his vicious disposition.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The ninth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Giving all men to understand, that Justice is necessary in a King, above all things -else whatsoever.</i></h4> - - -<p>The last command of the Queene, remained upon Madam <i>Elissa</i>, or -<i>Eliza</i>, 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 adventure, and perhaps -not purposely determined, hath effectually done the deede: as appeareth -by the Tale of Madam <i>Lauretta</i>, and another of mine owne, -wherewith I intend briefly to acquaint you, approving, that when good -words are discreetly observed, they are of soveraigne power and vertue.</p> - -<p>In the dayes of the first King of <i>Cyprus</i>, after the Conquest made in the -holy Land by <i>Godfrey</i> of <i>Bullen</i>, it fortuned, that a Gentlewoman of <i>Gascoignie</i>, -travelling in pilgrimage, to visit the sacred Sepulcher in <i>Jerusalem</i>, -returning home againe, arrived at <i>Cyprus</i>, 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 justice the offences of others, but -also suffered shamefull injuries 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.</p> - -<p>When the Gentlewoman heard this, despairing of any consolation, -or revenge for her wrongs, shee resolved to checke the Kings deniall of -justice, and comming before him weeping, spake in this manner. Sir, I -presume not into your presence, as hoping to have redresse by you, for -divers dishonourable injuries done unto 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.</p> - -<p>The King, who (till then) had beene very bad, dull, and slothfull, -even as sleeping out his time of governement; beganne to revenge the -wrongs done to this Gentlewoman very severely, and (thenceforward) -became a most sharpe Justicer, for the least offence offered against the -honour of his Crowne, or to any of his subjects beside.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Master_Albert_of_Bullen_honestly_made_a_Lady_to_blush_that_thought_to_have" id="Master_Albert_of_Bullen_honestly_made_a_Lady_to_blush_that_thought_to_have"><i>Master</i> Albert <i>of Bullen, honestly made a Lady to blush, that thought to have -done as much to him, because shee perceived him, to be amorously affected -towards her.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The tenth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is declared, that honest love agreeth with people of all ages.</i></h4> - - -<p>After that Madam <i>Eliza</i> 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 -Starres (when the Ayre is faire and cleere) are the adorning and beauty -of Heaven, and flowers (while the Spring time lasteth) doe graciously embellish -the Meadowes; even 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.</p> - -<p>Among us women, this day, I thinke few or none have therein offended, -but as readily have understood short and pithy speeches, as they have -beene quicke and quaintly delivered. But when answering suteth not -with understanding, it is generally a shame in us, and all such as live; because -our moderne times have converted that vertue, which was within -them who lived before us, 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 have most matter in her, and -therefore to be more honoured and esteemed. Never considering, that -whosoever loadeth the backe of an Asse, or puts upon him the richest -braverie; he becommeth not thereby a jote the wiser, or merriteth any -more honour then an Asse should have. I am ashamed to speake it, because -in detecting other, I may (perhaps) as justly taxe my selfe.</p> - -<p>Such imbroydered bodies, tricked and trimmed in such boasting -bravery, are they any thing else but as Marble Statues, dumbe, dull, and -utterly 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 devise and conference among men and women, -they would have the world to thinke, that it proceedeth but from simplicity -and precise opinion, covering 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.</p> - -<p>Most true it is, that as there is a respect to be used in the action of other -things; so, time and place are necessarily to be considered, and also whom -we converse withall; because sometimes it happeneth, that a man or woman, -intending (by a word of jest and merriment) to make another body -blush or be ashamed: not knowing what strength of wit remaineth in -the opposite, doe convert the same disgrace upon themselves. Therefore, -that we may the more advisedly stand upon out owne guard, and to -prevent the common proverbe, <i>That Women (in all things) make choyse of -the woorst:</i> I desire that this dayes last tale, which is to come from my -selfe, may make us 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 selves not inferiour to them.</p> - -<p>It is not many yeares since (worthy assembly) that in <i>Bulloigne</i> there -dwelt a learned Physitian, a man famous for skill, and farre renowned, -whose name was Master <i>Albert</i>, 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. Having -seene (at a Banquet) a very beautifull woman, being then in the estate of -widdowhood, named (as some say) Madame <i>Margaret de Chisolieri</i>, 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 lovely 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.</p> - -<p>Both shee and other Gentlewomen, perceiving the occasion of his -passing and repassing; would privately jest thereat together, to see a man -of such yeares and discretion, to be amorously addicted, or over-swayed -by effeminate passions. For they were partly perswaded, that such wanton -Ague fits of Love, were fit for none but youthfull apprehensions, as -best agreeing with their chearefull complexion. Master <i>Albert</i> continuing -his dayly walkes by the widdowes lodging, it chaunced upon a Feastivall -day, that shee (accompanied with divers other women of great account) -being sitting at her doore; espied Master <i>Albert</i> (farre off) comming -thitherward, and a resolved determination among themselves was -set downe, to allow him favourable entertainement, and to jest (in some -merry manner) at his loving folly, as afterward they did indeede.</p> - -<p>No sooner was he come neere, but they all arose, and courteously invited -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, aptly suting -with her yeares and desires? Master <i>Albert</i> perceiving, 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.</p> - -<p>Beleeve 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 Love, are bereft and gone from aged people; yet goodwill -thereto cannot be taken from them, neither judgement to know such as -deserve 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 reverence. The hope which incited me (being aged) to -love you, that are affected of so many youthfull Gallants, grew thus. I -have often chaunced into divers places, where I have 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 unreasonable appetite) will hold the -heads of them in your hands, and feede upon the blades or stalkes; which -not onely are not good for any thing, but also are of very bad savour. 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.</p> - -<p>The widdowed Gentlewoman, and all the rest in her company, being -bashfully ashamed of her owne and their folly, presently said. Master -<i>Albert</i>, you have both well and worthily chastised our over-bold presumption, -and beleeve mee Sir, I repute your love and kindnesse of no -meane merit, comming from a man so wise and vertuous: And therefore -(mine honour reserved) commaund my uttermost, as alwayes ready -to do you any honest service. Master <i>Albert</i>, arising from his seat, thanking -the faire widdow for her gentle offer; tooke leave of her and all the company, -and she blushing, as all the rest were therein not much behinde her, -thinking to checke him, became chidden her selfe, whereby (if wee be -wise) let us all take warning.</p> - -<p>The Sunne was now somewhat farre declined, and the heates extremity -well worne away, when the Tales of the seaven Ladies and three -Gentlemen were thus finished, whereupon their Queene pleasantly said. -For this day (faire company) there remaineth nothing more to be done -under my regiment, but onely to bestow a new Queene upon you, who -(according to her judgement) 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 whatsoever 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 severally begin. -And therefore, in reverence to him that giveth life to all things, and -in hope of comfort by our second day; Madame <i>Philomena</i>, a most wise -young Lady, shall governe as Queene this our Kingdome.</p> - -<p>So soone as she had thus spoken, arising from her seate of dignity, and -taking the Lawrell Crowne from off her owne head; she reverently placed -it upon Madame <i>Philomenaes</i>, she first of all humbly saluting her, and -then all the rest, openly confessing her to be their Queene, made gracious -offer to obey whatsoever she commaunded. <i>Philomena</i>, her cheekes -delivering a scarlet tincture, to see her selfe thus honoured as their -Queene, and well remembring the words, so lately uttered by Madame -<i>Pampinea</i>; that dulnesse or neglect might not be noted in her, tooke -cheerefull courage to her, and first of all, she confirmed the officers, which -<i>Pampinea</i> had appointed the day before, then shee ordained for the morrowes -provision, as also for the supper so neere approaching, before they -departed away from thence, and then thus began.</p> - -<p>Lovely Companions, although that Madam <i>Pampinea</i>, 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 judgement, 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 understand my meaning. If you have well -considered on the course, which this day hath bene kept by Madam <i>Pampinea</i>, -me thinkes it hath bene very pleasing and commendable; in which -regard, untill by over-tedious continuation, or other occasions of irkesome -offence, it shall seeme injurious, I am of the minde, not to alter it. -Holding on the order then as we have begun to do, we will depart from -hence to recreate our selves 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 every one shall finde fittest for them, even as already -this day we have done; untill due time shall summon us hither againe, -to continue our discoursive Tales, wherein (me thinkes) consisteth -both pleasure and profit, especially by discreete observation.</p> - -<p>Very true it is, that some things which Madam <i>Pampinea</i> coulde not -accomplish, by reason of her so small time of authority, I will beginne to -undergo, to wit, in restraining some matters whereon we are to speake, -that better premeditation may passe upon them. For, when respite and -a little leysure goeth before them, each discourse will savour 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 have bene guided (by Fortune) -thorow divers accidents and occasions: so beyond all hope & expectation, -the issue and successe hath bin good and succesfull, and accordingly -should every one of our arguments be chosen.</p> - -<p>The Ladies, and the yong Gentlemen likewise, commended her advice, -and promised to imitate it; onely <i>Dioneus</i> excepted, who when every -one was silent, spake thus. Madam, I say as all the rest have done, -that the order by you appointed, is most pleasing and worthy to bee allowed. -But I intreate one speciall favour for my selfe, and to have 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 urge this grace of you, as -being unfurnished of discourses in this kinde, I am well contented to be -the last in every dayes exercise.</p> - -<p>The Queene, knowing him to be a man full of mirth and matter, began -to consider very advisedly, that he would not have mooved this request, -but onely to the end, that if the company grew wearied by any of -the Tales re-counted, hee would shut uppe 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 river, -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 <i>Æmilia</i>, assisted by Madam <i>Lauretta</i> and <i>Dioneus</i>, shold sing -a sweet ditty. At which command, <i>Lauretta</i> undertooke the dance, and -led it, <i>Æmilia</i> singing this song ensuing.</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">The Song.<br /></span></i> -</div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">So much delight my beauty yeelds to mee,<br /></span> -<span class="i13">That any other Love,<br /></span> -<span class="i13">To wish or prove;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can never sute it selfe with my desire.<br /></span> -</i></div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">Therein I see, upon good observation,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What sweete content due understanding lends:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Olde or new thoughts cannot in any fashion<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rob me of that, which mine owne soule commends.<br /></span> -<span class="i13">What object then,<br /></span> -<span class="i15">(mongst infinites of men)<br /></span> -<span class="i13">Can I ever finde<br /></span> -<span class="i15">to dispossesse my minde,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And plant therein another new desire?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">So much delight, &c.<br /></span> -</i></div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">But were it so, the blisse that I would chuse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is, by continuall sight to comfort me:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So rare a presence never to refuse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which mortall tongue or thought, what ere it be;<br /></span> -<span class="i13">Must still conceale,<br /></span> -<span class="i15">not able to reveale,<br /></span> -<span class="i13">Such a sacred sweete,<br /></span> -<span class="i15">for none other meete,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But hearts enflamed with the same desire.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">So much delight, &c.<br /></span> -</i></div></div> - - -<p>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 gave ending to this first dayes Recreation. -So, lights being brought, they departed to their severall Lodgings, -to take their rest till the next morning.</p> - - -<h4><i>The End of the first Day.</i></h4> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="The_Second_Day" id="The_Second_Day">The Second Day.</a></h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein, all the Discourses are under the government of Madam Philomena: -Concerning such men or women, as (in divers accidents) have beene much -molested by Fortune, and yet afterward, contrary to their hope and expectation, -have had a happy and successefull deliverance.</i></h4> - - -<p>Already had the bright Sunne renewed the day every -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 seven 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 even 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, having -put on her Crowne of Laurell, and giving a gracious countenance -to the whole company; commanded Madam <i>Neiphila</i> that her Tale -should begin this daies delight. Whereupon she, without returning any -excuse or deniall, began in this manner.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Martellino_counterfetting_to_be_lame_of_his_members_caused_himselfe_to_be_set" id="Martellino_counterfetting_to_be_lame_of_his_members_caused_himselfe_to_be_set">Martellino <i>counterfetting to be lame of his members, caused himselfe to be set -on the body of Saint</i> Arriguo, <i>where he made shew of his sudden recovery; -but when his dissimulation was discovered, 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.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The first Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is signified, how easie a thing it is, for wicked men to deceive the world, -under the shadow and colour of miracles: and that such trechery (oftentimes) -redoundeth to the harme of the deviser.</i></h4> - - -<p>Faire Ladies, it hath happened many times, that hee who striveth to -scorne and floute other men, and especially in occasions deserving to -be respected, proveth to mocke himselfe with the selfe-same matter, yea, -and to his no meane danger beside. As you shall perceive by a Tale, -which I intend to tell you, obeying therein the command of our Queene, -and according to the subject by her enjoyned. In which discourse, you -may first observe, what great mischance happened to one of our Citizens; -and yet afterward, how (beyond all hope) he happily escaped.</p> - -<p>Not long since there lived in the City of <i>Trevers</i>, an <i>Almaine</i> or <i>Germaine</i>, -named <i>Arriguo</i>, [Or Arrigo.] who being a poore man, served 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 <i>Trevers</i> themselves affirmed) in the very instant houre of his departing, -all the Belles in the great Church of <i>Trevers</i>, (not being pulled -by the helpe of any hand) beganne to ring: which being accounted for a -miracle, every one saide; that this <i>Arriguo</i> 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, even as if every one should forth-with be holpen, onely -by their touching the bodie.</p> - -<p>It came to passe, that in so great a concourse of people, as resorted thither -from all parts; three of our Cittizens went to <i>Trevers</i>, one of them -being named <i>Stechio</i>, the second <i>Martellino</i>, and the third <i>Marquiso</i>, all -being men of such condition, as frequented Princes Courts, to give them -delight by pleasant & counterfeited qualities. None of these men having -ever beene at <i>Trevers</i> 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. Having ordered all affaires at their -lodging, <i>Marquiso</i> saide; It is fit for us to see this Saint, but I know not -how we shall attaine thereto, because (as I have heard) the place is guarded -by Germane Souldiers, and other warlike men, commanded thither -by the Governours of this City, least any outrage should be there committed: -And beside, the Church is so full of people, as wee shall never -compasse to get neere. <i>Martellino</i> 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 <i>Marquiso</i>. I will tell -thee, answered <i>Martellino</i>. 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 -<i>Stechio</i>, 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; every one will -make way, and freely give you leave to goe on.</p> - -<p>This devise was very pleasing to <i>Marquiso</i> and <i>Stechio</i>, so that (without -any further delaying) they all three left their lodging, and resorting into -a secret corner aside, <i>Martellino</i> so writhed and mishaped his hands, fingers, -and armes, his legges, mouth, eyes, and whole countenance, that it -was a dreadfull sight to looke upon him, and whosoever beheld him, -would verily have imagined, that hee was utterly lame of his limbes, and -greatly deformed in his body. <i>Marquiso</i> and <i>Stechio</i>, 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 every one -that they met, to grant them free passage, whereto they charitably condiscended.</p> - -<p>Thus leading him on, crying still; Beware there before, and give way -for Gods sake, they arrived at the body of Saint <i>Arriguo</i>, that (by his helpe) -he might be healed. And while all eyes were diligently observing, what -miracle would be wrought on <i>Martellino</i>, hee having sitten a small space -upon the Saints bodie, and being sufficiently skilfull in counterfeiting; beganne -first to extend forth 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 <i>Arriguo</i>, even -as if it had thundered in the Church.</p> - -<p>Now it chanced by ill fortune, that there stood a <i>Florentine</i> neere to -the body, who knew <i>Martellino</i> very perfectly; but appearing so monstrously -misshapen, when he was brought into the Church, hee could take no -knowledge of him. But when he saw him stand up 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 never 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 <i>Florentine</i>) -I know him to be as direct in his limbes and body, as you; I, or any -of us all are: but indeede, he knowes better how to dissemble counterfet -trickes, then any man else that ever I saw.</p> - -<p>When they heard this, they discoursed no further with the <i>Florentine</i>, -but pressed on mainely to the place where <i>Martellino</i> 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 -us, came hither in false and counterfet manner. So laying hands uppon -him, they threw him against the ground, haling him by the haire on his -head, and tearing the garments from his backe, spurning him with their -feete, and beating him with their fists, that many were much ashamed to -see it.</p> - -<p>Poore <i>Martellino</i> was in a pittifull case, crying out for mercy, but no -man would heare him; for, the more he cried, the more still they did beat -him, as meaning to leave no life in him, which <i>Stechio</i> and <i>Marquiso</i> seeing, -considered with themselves, that they were likewise in a desperate -case; and therefore, fearing to be as much misused, they cryed out among -the rest; Kill the counterfet knave, lay on loade, and spare him not; neverthelesse, -they tooke care how to get him out of the peoples handes, -as doubting, least they would kill him indeede, by their extreame violence.</p> - -<p>Sodainly, <i>Marquiso</i> bethought him how to do it, and proceeded thus. -All the Sergeants for Justice standing at the Church doore, hee ran with -all possible speede to the <i>Potestates</i> Lieutenant, and said unto him. Good -my Lord Justice, 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 have -my money againe. He hearing this, sent for a dozen of the Sergeants, -who went to apprehend unhappy <i>Martellino</i>, and recover 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 Cut-purse. -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.</p> - -<p>Upon these clamours and complaints, the <i>Potestates</i> Lieutenant (being -a man of rude quality) tooke him sodainly aside, and examined him -of the crimes wherewith he was charged. But <i>Martellino</i>, as making no -account of these accusations, laughed, and returned scoffing answeres. -Whereat the Judge, waxing much displeased, delivered him over to the -Strappado, and stood by himselfe, to have him confesse the crimes imposed -on him, and then to hang him afterward. Beeing let downe to the -ground, the Judge still demaunded of him, whether the accusations against -him were true, or no? Affirming, that it nothing avayled him to -deny it: whereupon hee thus spake to the Judge. 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 will -tell you that, which (as yet) I have not done, otherwise I purpose to make -you no more answers.</p> - -<p>Well (quoth the Judge) thou requirest but reason; & calling divers -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 <i>Martellino</i> hearing, replyed. My Lord, they al lie in their throats, -as I will plainly prove before you. I would to God I had never set foote -within this City, as it is not many houres since my first entrance, and presently -after mine arrivall, I went (in an evill 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 unto 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 have said, I humbly entreate you, that upon these bad mens reportes -and false informations, I may not be thus tormented, and put in perill of -my life.</p> - -<p>While matters proceeded in this manner, <i>Marquiso</i> and <i>Stechio</i>, understanding -how roughly the <i>Potestates</i> Lieutenant dealt with <i>Martellino</i> -and that he had already given him the Strappado; were in heavy perplexity, -saying to themselves; we have 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 <i>Alexander Agolante</i>, who dwelt in <i>Trevers</i>, 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 <i>Martellino</i>.</p> - -<p>Master <i>Alexander</i>, after he had laughed heartily at this hotte peece of -service, went with him to the Lord of <i>Trevers</i>; prevailing so well with -him, that he sent to have <i>Martellino</i> brought before him. The Messengers -that went for him, found him standing in his shirt before the Judge, very -shrewdly shaken with the Strappado, trembling and quaking pittifully. -For the Judge would not heare any thing in his excuse; but hating him -(perhaps) because hee was a Florentine: flatly determined to have him -hangde by the necke, and would not deliver him to the Lorde, untill in -meere despight he was compeld to do it.</p> - -<p>The Lord of <i>Trevers</i>, when <i>Martellino</i> came before him, and had acquainted -him truly with every particular: Master <i>Alexander</i> requested, -that he might be dispatched thence for <i>Florence</i>, 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 <i>Martellino</i> -to be handsomely apparrelled, delivering them also his Passe, they -escaped out of further danger, and tarried no where, till they came unto -<i>Florence</i>.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Rinaldo_de_Este_after_he_was_robbed_by_Theeves_arrived_at_Chasteau_Guillaume" id="Rinaldo_de_Este_after_he_was_robbed_by_Theeves_arrived_at_Chasteau_Guillaume"><i>Rinaldo de Este, after he was robbed by Theeves, arrived at Chasteau Guillaume, -where he was friendly lodged by a faire widdow, and recompenced -likewise for all his losses; returning afterward safe and well home into his -owne house.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The second Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Whereby wee may learne, that such things as sometime seeme hurtfull to us, -may turne to our benefit and commodity.</i></h4> - - -<p>Much merriment was among the Ladies, hearing this Tale of <i>Martellinos</i> -misfortunes, so familiarly reported by Madam <i>Neiphila</i>, and -of the men, it was best respected by <i>Philostratus</i>, who sitting neerest unto -<i>Neiphila</i>, the Queene commanded his Tale to be the next, when presently -he began to speake thus.</p> - -<p>Gracious Ladies, I am to speake of universall occasions, mingled with -some misfortunes in part, and partly with matters leaning to love: as many -times may happen to such people, that trace the dangerous pathes of -amorous desires, or have not learned perfectly, to say S. <i>Julians pater noster</i>, -having good beds of their owne, yet (casually) meete with worser -lodging.</p> - -<p>In the time of <i>Azzo</i>, Marquesse of <i>Ferrara</i>, there was a Marchant named -<i>Rinaldo de Este</i>, who being one day at <i>Bologna</i>, about some especiall -businesse of his owne; his occasions there ended, and riding from thence -towards <i>Verona</i>, he fell in company with other Horsemen, seeming to be -Merchants like himselfe; but indeede were Theeves, men of most badde -life and conversation; yet he having no such mistrust of them, rode on, conferring -with them very familiarly. They perceiving him to be a Merchant, -and likely to have some store of money about him, concluded betweene -themselves to rob him, so soone as they found apt place and opportunity. -But because he should conceive 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 -service, accounting themselves happy by his companie, as hee returned -the same courtesie to them, because he was alone, and but one servant -with him.</p> - -<p>Falling from one discourse to another, they began to talke of such -prayers, as men (in journey) use to salute God withall; and one of the -Theeves (they being three in number), spake thus to <i>Rinaldo</i>. Sir, let it be -no offence to you, that I desire to know, what prayer you most use when -thus you travell on the way? Whereto <i>Rinaldo</i> replyed in this manner. -To tell you true Sir, I am a man grosse enough in such Divine matters, -as medling more with Marchandize, then I do with Bookes. Neverthelesse, -at all times when I am thus in journey, in the morning before I depart -my Chamber, I say a <i>Pater noster</i> and an <i>Ave Maria</i>, for the souls of -the father and mother of Saint <i>Julian</i>, and after that, I pray God and S. -<i>Julian</i> to send me a good lodging at night. And let me tell you Sir, that -very oftentimes heeretofore, I have met with many great dangers upon -the way, from all which I still escaped, and evermore (when night drewe -on) I came to an exceeding good Lodging. Which makes mee firmely -beleeve, that Saint <i>Julian</i> (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 travaile securely, nor come -to a good lodging. No doubt then Sir (quoth the other) but you have -saide that prayer this morning? I would be sorry else, saide <i>Rinaldo</i>, such an -especiall matter is not to be neglected.</p> - -<p>He and the rest, who had already determined how to handle him before -they parted, saide within themselves: Looke thou hast said thy praier, -for when we have thy money, Saint <i>Julian</i> and thou shift for thy lodging. -Afterward, the same man thus againe conferd with him. As you -Sir, so I have ridden many journies, and yet I never used any such praier, -although I have heard it very much commended, and my lodging hath -prooved never the worser. Perhaps this verie night will therein resolve -us both, whether of us two shall be the best lodged; you that have sayde -the prayer, or I that never used it at all. But I must not deny, that in sted -thereof, I have made use of some verses, as <i>Dirupisti</i>, or the <i>Jutemerata</i>, -or <i>Deprofundis</i>, which are (as my Grandmother hath often told mee) of -very great vertue and efficacy.</p> - -<p>Continuing thus in talke of divers things, winning way, and beguiling -the time, still waiting when their purpose should sort to effect: it fortuned, -that the Theeves seeing they were come neere to a Towne, called -<i>Casteau Guillaume</i>, by the foord of a River, the houre somewhat late, the -place solitarie, and thickely shaded with trees, they made their assault; -and having robd him, left him there on foote, stript into his shirt, saying -to him. Goe now and see, whether thy Saint <i>Julian</i> will allow thee this -night a good lodging, or no, for our owne we are sufficiently provided; -so passing the River, away they rode. <i>Rinaldoes</i> servant, seeing his Master -so sharply assayled, like a wicked villaine, would not assist him in any -sort: but giving his horse the spurres, never left gallowping, untill hee -came to <i>Chasteau Guillaume</i>, where hee entred upon the point of night, -providing himselfe of a lodging, but not caring what became of his -Master.</p> - -<p><i>Rinaldo</i> 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 <i>Chasteau Guillaume</i>, 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 arriving there so late, hee found -the gates fast lockt, and the Bridges drawne up, so that no entrance might -be admitted.</p> - -<p>Grieving greatly hereat, and being much discomforted, rufully hee -went spying about the walls, for some place wherein to shrowd himselfe, -at least, to keepe the snow from falling upon him. By good hap, hee -espied an house upon the wall of the Towne, which had a terrace jutting -out as a penthouse, under 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 pensively; -made many sad complaints to Saint <i>Julian</i>, saying: This was not according -to the trust he reposed in her. But Saint <i>Julian</i>, taking compassion -upon him, without any over-long tarying; provided him of a good -lodging, as you shall heare how.</p> - -<p>In this towne of <i>Chasteau Guillaume</i>, lived a young Lady, who was a -widdow, so beautifull and comely of her person, as sildome was seene a -more lovely creature. The Marquesse <i>Azzo</i> most dearely affected her, -and (as his choysest Jewell of delight) gave her that house to live in, under -the terrace whereof poore <i>Rinaldo</i> 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 having 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 urgent occasions called him thence, and hee rode away immediately.</p> - -<p>Much discontented was the Lady at this unexpected accident, and not -knowing now how to spend the time, resolved to use 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 <i>Rinaldo</i> -sate, stoode the Bath, by which meanes, shee being therein, heard all his -quivering moanes, and complaints, seeming to be such, as the Swanne -singing before her death: whereupon, shee called her Chamber-maide, -saying to her. Goe up above, and looke over the terrace on the wall -downe to this doore, and see who is there, and what hee doth. The -Chamber-maide went up 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; <i>Rinaldoes</i> 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 starve there to death with colde.</p> - -<p>The Chamber-maide, being much moved 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 have 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 unto 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 heate -thereof, even 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.</p> - -<p>Attending in further expectation, to know what else the Lady would -commaund him; hee began to remember God and Saint <i>Julian</i>, hartily -thanking her, for delivering 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 respective birth and breeding, well deserving this gracious -favour which you have 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 <i>Rinaldo</i> 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 reverence, -expressing so much thankefulnesse as possibly hee could, for this her extraordinary -grace and favour.</p> - -<p>The Lady fixing a stedfast eye upon him, well liking his gentle language -and behaviour, perceiving also, how fitly her deceased husbands -apparell was formed to his person, and resembling him in all familiar respects, -he appeared (in her judgement) farre beyond the Chambermaides -commendations of him; so praying him to sit downe by her before the -fire, shee questioned with him, concerning this unhappy nights accident -befalne him, wherein he fully resolved her, and shee was the more perswaded, -by reason of his servants comming into the Towne before night, -assuring him, that he should be found for him early in the morning.</p> - -<p>Supper being served in to the Table, and hee seated according as the -Lady commanded, shee began to observe 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 joviall youthfulnesse of his time, and truest temper -for amorous apprehension; all these were as battering engines against a -Bulwarke of no strong resistance, and wrought strangely upon 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 motive 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, and a sound stability in his estate, -but above all (and best of all) the single and sole condition of a batcheler; -an apt and easie steele to strike fire, especially upon such quicke taking -tinder, and in a time favoured by Fortune.</p> - -<p>No imbarment remained, but remembrance of the Marquesse, and -that being summond to her more advised consideration, her youth and -beauty stood up as conscious accusers, for blemishing her honour and -faire repute, with lewd and luxurious life; farre unfit for a Lady of her degree, -and well worthy of generall condemnation. What should I further -say? upon a short conference with her Chambermaide, repentance for -sinne past, and solemne promise of a constant conversion, thus shee delivered -her minde to <i>Rinaldo</i>.</p> - -<p>Sir, as you have 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 living so perfectly in your person; this -house, and all mine, is yours; and of a widow I will become your wife, except -(unmanly) you denie me. <i>Rinaldo</i> hearing these words, and proceeding -from a Lady of such absolute perfections, presuming upon so proud -an offer, and condemning himselfe of folly if he should refuse it, thus replied. -Madam, considering that I stand bound for ever hereafter, to confesse -that you are the gracious preserver 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 service: let me die before -a thought of deniall, or any way to yeeld you the least discontentment.</p> - -<p>Here wanted but a Priest to joyne their hands, as mutuall affection -already had done their hearts, which being sealed with infinite kisses; the -Chamber-maide called up Friar <i>Roger</i> her Confessor, and wedding and -bedding were both effected before the bright morning. In briefe, the -Marquesse having heard of the marriage, did not mislike it, but confirmed -it by great and honourable gifts; and having sent for his dishonest -servant, he dispatched him (after sound reprehension) to <i>Ferrara</i>, with -Letters to <i>Rinaldoes</i> Father and friends, of all the accidents that had befalne -him. Moreover, the very same morning, the three theeves, that -had robbed, and so ill entreated <i>Rinaldo</i>, for another facte by them the -same night committed; were taken, and brought to the Towne of <i>Chasteau -Guillaume</i>, where they were hanged for their offences, and <i>Rinaldo</i> -with his wife rode to <i>Ferrara</i>.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Three_young_Gentlemen_being_brethren_and_having_spent_all_their_Lands_and" id="Three_young_Gentlemen_being_brethren_and_having_spent_all_their_Lands_and"><i>Three young Gentlemen, being brethren, and having 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</i> Englands <i>Daughter, and made him her Husband -in marriage, recompencing all his Uncles losses, and seating them againe -in good estate.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The third Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is declared the dangers of Prodigalitie, and the manifold mutabilities -of Fortune.</i></h4> - - -<p>The fortunes of <i>Rinaldo de Este</i>, being heard by the Ladies and Gentlemen, -they admired his happinesse, and commended his devotion -to Saint <i>Julian</i>, who (in such extreame necessity) sent him so good succour. -Nor was the Lady to be blamed, for leaving base liberty, and converting -to the chaste embraces of the marriage bed, the dignity of womens -honour, and eternall disgrace living otherwise. While thus they -descanted on the happy night betweene her and <i>Rinaldo</i>, Madam <i>Pampinea</i> -sitting next to <i>Philostratus</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>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 observe, 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 judgement) or setled order (at least) that can bee -knowne to us. Now, although these things appeare thus daily to us, -even 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 unprofitable for the -hearers, nor unpleasing in observation.</p> - -<p>Sometime heeretofore, there dwelt in our Citie, a Knight named -Signior <i>Thebaldo</i>, who (according as some report) issued from the Family -of <i>Lamberti</i>, but others derive him of the <i>Agolanti</i>; guiding (perhaps) -their opinion heerein, more from the traine of children, belonging -to the saide <i>Thebaldo</i> (evermore equall to that of the <i>Agolanti</i>) 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 <i>Lamberto</i>, the second <i>Thebaldo</i>, & the third -<i>Agolanto</i>, all goodly and gracefull youths: howbeit, the eldest had not -compleated eighteene yeares, when Signior <i>Thebaldo</i> the father deceased, -who left them all his goods and inheritances. And they, seeing them -selves rich in readie monies and revennewes, without any other government -then their owne voluntary disposition, kept no restraint upon their -expences, but maintained many servants, and store of unvalewable 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.</p> - -<p>Not long had they run on this race, but the treasures lefte them by -their Father, began greatly to diminish; and their revennewes suffised -not, to support such lavish 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 themselves quickly come to nothing, -and then poverty opened their eyes, which prodigality had before closed -up. Heereupon, <i>Lamberto</i> (on a day) calling his Brethren to him, shewed -them what the honours of their Father had beene, to what height his -wealth amounted, and now to what an ebbe of poverty it was falne, onely -thorow their inordinate expences. Wherefore hee counselled them, -(as best he could) before further misery insulted over them; to make sale -of the small remainder that was left, and then to betake themselves unto -some other abiding, where fairer Fortune might chance to shine uppon -them.</p> - -<p>This advice prevailed with them; and so, without taking leave of any -body, or other solemnity then closest secrecy, they departed from <i>Florence</i>, -not tarrying in any place untill they were arrived in <i>England</i>. Comming -to the City of London, and taking there a small house upon yearly -rent, living on so little charge as possible might be, they began to lend -out money at use: wherein Fortune was so favourable 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 <i>Florence</i>: where, with those summes, a great -part of their inheritances were redeemed, and many other bought beside. -Linking themselves in marriage, and yet continuing their usances -in England; they sent a Nephew of theirs thither, named <i>Alessandro</i>, a -yong man, and of faire demeanor, to maintaine their stocke in employment: -while they three remained still at <i>Florence</i>, and growing forgetful -of their former misery, fell againe into as unreasonable expences as ever, -never respecting their houshold charges, because they had good credite -among the Merchants, and the monies still sent from <i>Alessandro</i>, supported -their expences divers yeares.</p> - -<p>The dealings of <i>Alessandro</i> in England grew very great, for hee lent -out much money to many Gentlemen, Lords, and Barons of the Land, -upon engagement of their Manours, Castles, and other revennues: from -whence he derived immeasurable benefite. While the three Brethren -held on in their lavish expences, borrowing moneys when they wanted -untill 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 <i>Alessandro</i>, were sodainely -seized from him, nothing then remaining that returned him any profit. -But living in hope day by day, that peace would be concluded betweene -the Father and the Sonne, he never doubted, but all things then should -be restored to him, both the principall and interest, & therefore he would -not depart out of the Country.</p> - -<p>The three Brethren at <i>Florence</i>, 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 come 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 -Wives and yong children being sent thence, some to one village, some -to another, so that nothing now was to be expected, but poverty & misery -of life forever.</p> - -<p>As for honest <i>Alessandro</i>, who had awaited long time for peace in England, -perceyving there was no likelyhood of it; and considering also, -that (beside his tarrying there in vaine to recover his dues) he was in danger -of his life; without any further deferring, hee set away for <i>Italy</i>. It -came to passe, that as he issued foorth of <i>Bruges</i>, hee saw a yong Abbot -also journeying thence, being cloathed in white, accompanied with divers -Monkes, and a great traine before, conducting the needefull carriage. -Two ancient Knights, Kinsmen to the King, followed after, with -whom <i>Alessandro</i> acquainted himselfe, as having formerly known them, -and was kindly accepted into their company. <i>Alessandro</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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 travaile with him to <i>Rome</i>, 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 use -to do, when they ride upon the High-wayes.</p> - -<p>It chanced on a day, that <i>Alessandro</i> rode somewhat neere to the Abbot, -who stedfastly beholding him, perceived that he was a verie comely -young man, so affable, lovely, and gracious, that even in this first encounter, -he hadde never 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 travelled. <i>Alessandro</i> -imparted freely to him all his affaires, in every thing satisfying his -demands, and offering (although his power was small) to doe him all the -service he could.</p> - -<p>When the Abbot had heard his gentle answers, so wisely & discreetly -delivered, considering also (more particularly) his commendable carriage; -he tooke him to be (at the least) a well-borne Gentleman, and far -differing from his owne logger-headed traine. Wherefore, taking compassion -on his great misfortunes, he comforted him very kindly, wishing -him to live 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 journied -towards <i>Tuscany</i>, as he himselfe did the like, to continue still (if he pleased) -in his company. <i>Alessandro</i> most humbly thanked him for such gracious -comfort; protesting, that he would be alwaies ready, to doe whatsoever -he commanded.</p> - -<p>The Abbot riding on, with newer crochets in his braine, then hee had -before the sight of <i>Alessandro</i>; it fortuned, that after divers dayes of travaile, -they came to a small countrey Village, which affoorded little store -of lodging, and yet the Abbot would needs lye there. <i>Alessandro</i>, being -well acquainted with the Host of the house, willed him, to provide -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 provided for his traine in the Village, -some in one place, and others elsewhere, in the best manner that the -Towne could yeelde. But when the Abbot had supt, a great part of the -night being spent, and every one else at his rest; <i>Alessandro</i> demaunded -of the Host, what provision he had made for him; and how hee should -be lodged that night?</p> - -<p>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: -Neverthelesse, next adjoining 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 serve for one night, insted -of a better. But mine Host (quoth <i>Alessandro</i>) 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 have lodgd his Monkes in -those Corn-lofts, and then both you and I might have slept where now -they do. But feare you not, my Lords Curtaines are close drawne, hee -sleepeth (no doubt) soundly, and I can conveigh you thither quietly enough, -without the least disturbance to him, and a Pallet-bed shal be fitted -there for you. <i>Alessandro</i> perceyving, that all this might bee easilie -done, and no disease offered to the Abbot, accepted it willingly, & went -thither without any noyse at all.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Alessandro</i>, 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 never have the like offer -againe, or ever 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 <i>Alessandro</i>, advising 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 favour.</p> - -<p>The Abbot, laying his arme over the others body, began to imbrace -and hugge him; even as amorous friends (provoked by earnest affection) -use to do. Whereat <i>Alessandro</i> very much marvayling, and being -an <i>Italian</i> himselfe, fearing least this folly in the Abbot, would convert -to foule and dishonest action, shrunk modestly from him. Which the -Abbot perceiving, and doubting, least <i>Alessandro</i> would depart and leave -him, pleasantly smiling, and with bashfull behaviour, baring his stomack, -he tooke <i>Alessandroes</i> hand, and laying it thereon, saide; <i>Alessandro</i>, let all -bad thoughts of bestiall abuse be farre off from thee, and feele here, to resolve -thee from all such feare. <i>Alessandro</i> feeling the Abbots brest, found -there two pretty little mountainets, round, plumpe, and smooth, appearing -as if they had beene of polished Ivory; whereby he perceived, 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.</p> - -<p><i>Alessandro</i>, forbeare such boldnesse, upon thy lives perill, and before -thou further presume to touch me, understand what I shall tell thee. I am -(as thou perceivest) no man, but a woman; and departing a Virgin from -my Fathers House, am travelling 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 ever, I know not; I conceived such -an effectuall kinde of liking towards thee, as never did woman love a -man more truly, then I doe thee, having 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 upon thy lippes concerning what thou hast heard, and -depart hence to thine owne bed againe.</p> - -<p>No doubt, but that these were strange newes to <i>Alessandro</i>, 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 overthrow, and his great -losses in <i>England</i>; wherefore, upon 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 upon the -wall; before which, and calling him to witnesse, that suffered such bitter -and cruell torments on his Crosse, putting a Ring upon 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 Loves acceptation, and so -they journied on till they came to <i>Rome</i>.</p> - -<p>When they had rested themselves there for some few dayes, the supposed -Abbot, with the two Knights, and none else in company but <i>Alessandro</i>, -went before the Pope, and having done him such reverence as beseemed, -the Abbot began to speake in this manner.</p> - -<p>Holy Father (as you know much better then any other) every one -that desireth to live 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 live within the compasse -of a vertuous conversation, may perfect my hopes in this behalfe: -I have fled from my Fathers Court, and am come hither in this habite as -you see, to crave therein your holy and fatherly furtherance. I am daughter -to the King of <i>England</i>, and have sufficiently furnished my selfe with -some of his treasures, that your holinesse may bestow me in marriage; -because mine unkind Father, never regarding my youth and beauty (inferiour -to few in my native Country) would marry me to the King of <i>North-wales</i>, -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 unstained life, lewd and dishonest desires might make -me to wander, by breaking the divine Lawes of wedlocke, and abusing -the royall blood of my Father.</p> - -<p>As I travailed 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 <i>Alessandro</i>) is this young -Gentleman standing by me, whose honest, vertuous, and civill demeanour, -deserveth a Lady of farre greater worth, although (perhaps) nobility -in blood be denied him, and may make him seeme not so excellent, -as one derived from Royall discent. Holy and religious vowes have past -betweene us both, and the Ring on his finger, is the firme pledge of my -faith and constancie; never 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 <i>Alessandro</i> and my selfe, may by you be publiquely -confirmed, and in an open congregation. For, seeing God hath so appointed -it, and our soules have so solemnely vowed it, that no disaster -whatsoever 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 live in Gods feare, and dye in his favour.</p> - -<p>Perswade your selves (faire Ladies) that <i>Alessandro</i> was in no meane -admiration, when hee heard, that his wife was daughter to the King of -<i>England</i>; unspeakeable joy (questionlesse) wholly overcame him: but the -two Knights were not a little troubled and offended, at such a strange -and unexpected accident, yea, so violent were their passions, that had -they beene any where else, then in the Popes presence, <i>Alessandro</i> 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, perceiving there was no resistance -to be made against it, hee yeelded the more willingly to satisfie -her desire. And therefore, having first comforted the two Knights, and -made peace betweene them, the Princesse and <i>Alessandro</i>; he gave order -for the rest that was to be done.</p> - -<p>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 every eye was -highly delighted to behold her, commending her with no mean admiration. -In like manner was <i>Alessandro</i> greatly honoured by the two Knights, -being most sumptuous in appearance, and not like a man that had lent -money to usury, 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 devised, hee gave them his benediction, -and licenced their departure thence.</p> - -<p><i>Alessandro</i>, his Princesse and her traine thus leaving <i>Rome</i>, they would -needes visite <i>Florence</i>, where the newes of this accident was (long before) -noysed, and they received by the Citizens in royall manner. There did -shee deliver the three brethren out of prison, having first payed all their -debts, and reseated them againe (with their wives) in their former inheritances -and possessions. Afterward, departing from <i>Florence</i>, and <i>Agolanto</i>, -one of the Uncles travailing with them to <i>Paris</i>; they were there -also most honourably entertained by the King of <i>France</i>. From whence -the two Knights went before for <i>England</i>, and prevailed so succesfully -with the King; that hee received his daughter into grace and favour, as -also his Sonne in law her husband, to whom hee gave the order of -Knighthoode, and (for his greater dignitie) created him Earle of -<i>Cornewall</i>.</p> - -<p>And such was the noble Spirit of <i>Alessandro</i>, that he pacified the troubles -betweene the King and his sonne, whereon ensued great comfort to -the Kingdome, winning the love and favour of all the people; and <i>Agolanto</i> -(by the meanes of <i>Alessandro</i>) recovered all that was due to him -and his brethren in <i>England</i>, returning richly home to <i>Florence</i>, Counte -<i>Alessandro</i> (his kinsman) having first dubd him Knight. Longtime hee -lived in peace and tranquility, with the faire Princesse his wife, proving -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 -<i>Ireland</i>, and was crowned King thereof.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Landolpho_Ruffolo_falling_into_poverty_became_a_Pirate_on_the_Seas_and" id="Landolpho_Ruffolo_falling_into_poverty_became_a_Pirate_on_the_Seas_and">Landolpho Ruffolo, <i>falling into poverty, became a Pirate on the Seas, and -being taken by the Genewayes, hardly escaped drowning: Which yet (neverthelesse) -he did, upon a little Chest or Coffer, full of very rich Jewels, being -caried thereon to</i> Corfu, <i>where he was well entertained by a good woman; -And afterward, returned richly home to his owne house.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The fourth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Whereby may be discerned, into how many dangers a man may fall, through a -covetous desire to enrich himselfe.</i></h4> - - -<p>Madame <i>Lauretta</i>, sitting next to Madame <i>Pampinea</i>, and seeing how -triumphantly shee had finished her discourse; without attending -any thing else, spake thus. Gracious Ladies, wee shall never behold (in -mine opinion) a greater act of Fortune, then to see a man so suddainly exalted, -even from the lowest depth of poverty, to a Royall estate of dignity; -as the discourse of Madame <i>Pampinea</i> hath made good, by the happy -advancement of <i>Alessandro</i>. And because it appeareth necessary, that -whosoever discourseth on the subject 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 howsoever that fault shall be -found in you, I meane to discharge mine owne duty.</p> - -<p>Opinion hath made it famous for long time, that the Sea-coast of <i>Rhegium</i> -to <i>Gaieta</i>, is the onely delectable part of all <i>Italy</i>, wherein, somewhat -neere to <i>Salerno</i>, is a shore looking upon the Sea, which the inhabitants -there dwelling, doe call the coast of <i>Malfy</i>, 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 <i>Ravello</i>, wherein (as yet to this day there are rich people) -there was (not long since) a very wealthy man, named <i>Landolpho Ruffolo</i>, -who being not contented with his riches, but coveting to multiply them -double and trebble, fell in danger, to loose both himselfe and wealth together.</p> - -<p>This man (as other Merchants are wont to doe) after hee had considered -on his affaires, bought him a very goodly Ship, lading it with divers -sorts of Merchandizes, all belonging to himselfe onely, and making -his voyage to the Isle of <i>Cyprus</i>. Where he found, over and beside the -Merchandizes he had brought thither, many Ships more there arrived, -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 utter destruction and -overthrow. Whereupon, grieving exceedingly at so great a losse, not -knowing what to doe, and seeing, that from very aboundant wealth, hee -was likely to fall into as low poverty: hee resolved to dye, or to recompence -his losses upon others, because he would not returne home poore, -having departed thence so rich.</p> - -<p>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 use of a Pirate, -arming and furnishing it in ample manner, for roving and robbing -upon 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 favourable to him, that hee could never 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 recovered, -not onely of all his losses by Merchandize, but likewise his wealth was -wholly redoubled. Finding his losses to be very liberally requited, and -having 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 covet after more: he fully concluded, now to returne home -to his owne house againe, and live upon his goods thus gotten.</p> - -<p>Continuing still in feare, of the losses he had sustained by traffique, & -minding, never 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 over-taking them, and a mighty -winde suddainly comming upon them: it not onely was contrary to -their course, but held on with such impetuous violence; that the small -vessell, being unable to endure it, made to land-ward speedily, and in expectation -of a more friendly wind, entred a little port of the Sea, directing -up into a small Island, and there safely sheltred it selfe. Into the same port -which <i>Landolpho</i> had thus taken for his refuge, entred (soone after) two -great Carrackes of <i>Genewayes</i> lately come from <i>Constantinople</i>. When -the men in them had espied the small Barke, and lockt uppe her passage -from getting foorth; understanding the Owners name, and that report -had famed him to be very rich, they determined (as men evermore addicted -naturally, to covet after money and spoile) to make it their owne as -a prize at Sea.</p> - -<p>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 over-boord, without sparing any but -<i>Landolpho</i> himselfe, whom they mounted into one of the Carrackes, leaving -him nothing but a poore shirt of Maile on his backe, and having -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 againe, -having a prosperous passage all the day long; but uppon 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 <i>Landolpho</i> (beneath the -Isle of <i>Cephalonia</i>) ran against a rocke, and even 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.</p> - -<p>Now, notwithstanding the nights obscurity, and impetuous violence -of the billowes; such as could swimme, made shift to save their lives by -swimming. Others caught hold on such things, as by Fortunes favour -floated neerest to them, among whom, distressed <i>Landolpho</i>, desirous to -save 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 poverty; yet, seeing how other -men strove for safety of their lives by any helpe, were it never so little, he -tooke advantage of this favour offred him, and the rather in a necessitie so -urgent. Keeping fast upon the Coffer so well as he could, and being driven -by the winds & waves, one while this way, and anon quite contrarie, -he made shift for himselfe till day appeared; when looking every way about -him, seeing nothing but clouds, the seas and the Coffer, which one -while shrunke from under him, and another while supported him, according -as the windes and billowes carried it: all that day and night thus he -floated up and downe, drinking more then willingly hee would, but almost -hunger-starved thorow want of foode. The next morning, either -by the appointment of heaven, or power of the Windes, <i>Landolpho</i> -who was (well-neere) become a Spundge, holding his armes strongly -about the Chest, as wee have seene some doe, who (dreading drowning) take -hold on any the very smallest helpe; drew neere unto the shore of the Iland -<i>Corfu</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>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 service; but even as the waves and windes pleased, the -Chest was driven still neerer to the Land, and then the woman perceived -that it had the forme of a Cofer, and looking more advisedly, beheld two -armes extended over it, and afterward, shee espied the face of a man, not -being able to judge, whether he were alive, or no. Moved 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 -unfolded his armes from the Chest, setting it up on her Daughters head, -and then betweene them, <i>Landolpho</i> was led into the Towne, and there -conveyed into a warme Stove, where quickly he recovered (by her pains) -his strength benummed with extreame cold.</p> - -<p>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 upon the waves, -and (next under God) had saved 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. Neverthelesse, 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. -Having 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 deliverance from -danger.</p> - -<p>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 up the Jewels in very unsightly -cloutes, that no suspition at all should be conceived of them, hee -saide to the good woman, that the Chest would not doe him any further -service; but if shee pleased to lende him a small sacke or bagge, shee -might keepe the Cofer, for in her house it would divers way stead her. -The woman gladly did as he desired, and <i>Landolpho</i> returning her infinite -thankes, for the loving kindnesse shee had affoorded him, throwing the -sacke on his necke, passed by a Barke to <i>Brundusiam</i>, and from thence to -<i>Tranium</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>Being come home in safety to <i>Ravello</i>, hee fell on his knees, and thanked -God for all his mercies towards him. Then opening the sacke, and -viewing the Jewels 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 having vented them all, he sent a great sum of money -to the good woman at <i>Corfu</i>, that had rescued him out of the Sea, -and saved his life in a danger so dreadfull: The like hee did to <i>Tranium</i>, -to the Merchants that had newly cloathed him; living richly upon the -remainder, and never adventuring more to the Sea, but ended his dayes -in wealth and honour.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Andrea_de_Piero_travelling_from_Perouse_to_Naples_to_buy_Horses_was_in" id="Andrea_de_Piero_travelling_from_Perouse_to_Naples_to_buy_Horses_was_in">Andrea de Piero, <i>travelling from</i> Perouse <i>to</i> Naples <i>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.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The fift Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Comprehending, how needfull a thing it is, for a man that travelleth in affaires -of the World, to be provident and well advised, and carefully to keepe himselfe -from the crafty and deceitfull allurements of Strumpets.</i></h4> - - -<p>The precious Stones and Jewels found by <i>Landolpho</i>, maketh mee to -remember (said Madam <i>Fiammetta</i>, who was next to deliver her discourse) -a Tale, containing no lesse perils, then that reported by Madam -<i>Lauretta</i>: 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 unto you.</p> - -<p>As I have heard reported by many, there sometime lived in <i>Perouse</i> or -<i>Perugia</i>, a young man, named <i>Andrea de Piero</i>, 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 <i>Naples</i>, did -put five hundred Crownes of gold in his purse, and journeyed thither in -the company of other Horse-coursers, arriving there on a Sunday in the -evening. According to instructions given him by his Host, he went the -next day into the Horse-market, where he saw very many Horses that he -liked, cheapening their prices as he went up and downe, but could fall to -no agreement; yet to manifest that he came purposely to buy, and not as -a cheapener onely, often times (like a shalow-brainde trader in the world) -he shewed his purse of gold before all passengers, never respecting who, -or what they were that observed his follie.</p> - -<p>It came to passe, that a young <i>Sicillian</i> wench (very beautifull, but at -commaund of whosoever would, and for small hire) passing then by, and -(without his perceiving) 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 <i>Sicillian</i> -also, who so soone as shee saw <i>Andrea</i>, knew him, and, leaving her -youthfull commodity, ranne to him, and embraced him very kindly. -Which when the younger Lasse perceived, without proceeding any -further, she stayed, to see what would ensue thereon. <i>Andrea</i> 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 <i>Cammerado</i>; and <i>Andrea</i> -went about buying his horses, still cheapning good store, but did not -buy any all that morning.</p> - -<p>The Punke that had taken notice of <i>Andreaes</i> purse, upon the olde womans -comming backe to her (having 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 have done: That shee had long time dwelt in -<i>Sicily</i> with his Father, and afterward at <i>Perouse</i>; recounting also, at what -time she came thence, and the cause which now had drawne him to <i>Naples</i>. -The witty young housewife, being thorowly instructed, concerning -the Parents and kindred of <i>Andrea</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Andrea</i> according to promise, -purposing, not to trust her in this serious piece of service. Calling a young -crafty Girle to her, whom she had well tutoured in the like ambassages, -when evening drew on, she sent her to <i>Andreas</i> 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 <i>Signior -Andrea de Piero</i>; 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 favour.</p> - -<p><i>Andrea</i>, 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 (undoubtedly) that he -was an hansome proper man, and of such carriage and perfections, as had -attracted the amorous eye of this Gentlewoman, and induced her to like -and love him beyond all other, <i>Naples</i> 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.</p> - -<p>Instantly <i>Andrea</i> (without leaving 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 <i>Malpertuis</i>, -a title manifesting sufficiently the streetes honesty: but hee, having 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 up a faire -payre of stayres, which he having more then halfe ascended, the cunning -young Queane gave a call to her Mistresse, saying; <i>Signior Andrea</i> 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 <i>Andrea</i> well observing, -& 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, even -as if she were unable to utter one word, seeming hindered by extremity -of joy at his presence, and to make him effectually admire her extraordinary -kindnesse, having teares plenteously at commaund, intermixed with -sighes and broken speeches, at last, thus she spake.</p> - -<p><i>Signior Andrea</i>, 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 novice 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.</p> - -<p>I am sure <i>Andrea</i>, that you greatly marvell 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 never heard any Speeches of me: but you shall instantly receive -from mee matter to augment your greater marvell, meeting heere -with your owne sister, beyond all hope or expectation in either of us -both. But seeing that Heaven hath beene so gracious to me, to let mee -see one of my brethren before I die (though gladly I would have seene -them all) which is some addition of comfort to me, and that which (happily) -thou hast never heard before, in plaine and truest manner, I will reveale -unto thee.</p> - -<p><i>Piero</i>, my Father and thine, dwelt long time (as thou canst not chuse -but to have understood) in <i>Palermo</i>, 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 loving friends and -well-willers. Among them that most intimately affected <i>Piero</i>, my mother -(who was a Gentlewoman, and at that time a widow) did dearest of -all other love him; so that forgetting the feare of her Father, brethren, -yea, and her owne honour, they became so privately acquainted, that I -was begotten, and am here now such as thou seest me. Afterward, occasions -so befalling our Father, to abandon <i>Palermo</i>, and returne to <i>Perouse</i>, -he left my mother and me his little daughter, never after (for ought -that I could learne) once remembring either her or me: so that (if he had -not beene my Father) I could have much condemned him, in regard of -his ingratitude to my Mother, and love which hee ought to have 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 (moved 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.</p> - -<p>Being left so young at <i>Palermo</i>, and growing (well neere) to the stature -as now you see me; my mother, being wealthy, gave mee in marriage to -one of the <i>Gergentes</i> Family, a Gentleman, and of great revenewes, who -in his love to me and my mother, went and dwelt at <i>Palermo</i>: where falling -into the <i>Guelphes</i> faction, and making one in the enterprize with -<i>Charles</i> our King; it came to passe, that they were discovered to <i>Fredericke</i> -King of <i>Arragon</i>, before their intent could be put in execution, -whereupon, we were enforced to flie from <i>Sicilie</i>, even when my hope -stood fairely to have beene the greatest Lady in all the Iland. Packing -up then such few things as wee could take with us, 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 <i>Charles</i> so benigne and gracious to -us, that recompencing the greater part of our losses, he bestowed Lands -and Houses on us 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 <i>Andrea</i>, 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.</p> - -<p><i>Andrea</i> hearing this fable so artificially delivered, composed from -point to point, with such likely protestations, without faltring or failing -in any one words utterance; and remembring perfectly for truth, that his -Father had formerly dwelt at <i>Palermo</i>; 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 upon her silence, -thus he replied. Lady, let it not seeme strange to you, that your words -have raised marvell in me, because (indeede) I had no knowledge of you, -even no more then as if I had never seene you, never also having heard -my Father to speake either of you or your Mother (for some considerations -best knowne to himselfe) or if at any time he used such language, either -my youth then, or defective memory since, hath utterly lost it. But -truly, it is no little joy 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 -soever, but you may well beseeme his acceptance, much rather then -mine, that am but a meane Merchant. But faire sister, I desire to be resolved -in one thing, to wit, by what meanes you had understanding of my -being in this City? whereto readily shee returned him this answer.</p> - -<p>Brother, a poore woman of this City, whom I employ sometimes in -houshold occasions, came to me this morning, and (having seene you) -tolde me, that shee dwelt a long while with our Father, both at <i>Palermo</i>, -and <i>Perouse</i>. And because I held it much better beseeming my condition, -to have 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 <i>Andrea</i> still made her answer, confirming -thereby his beliefe of her the more strongly, and crediting whatsoever -shee saide, farre better then before.</p> - -<p>Their conference having long time continued, and the heate of the -day being somewhat extraordinary, shee called for <i>Greeke</i> wine, and banquetting -stuffe, drinking to <i>Andrea</i>; and he pledging her very contentedly. -After which, he would have 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 perceive brother, -how little account you make of me, considering, you are with your owne -Sister, who (you say) you never 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. Beleeve 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.</p> - -<p>Now was <i>Andrea</i> so confounded with this extremity of courtesie, that -he knew not what to say, but onely thus replied. I love you as a Sister -ought to be loved, 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 untill I come. For that (quoth shee) -we have a present remedy, one of my servants shal goe and give warning, -whereby they shall not tarry your comming. Albeit, you might doe me a -great kindnesse, to send for your friends to sup with us 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. <i>Andrea</i> answered, -that he had no such friends there, as should be so burthenous to -her: but seeing shee urged him so farre, he would stay to sup with her, and -referred himselfe solely to her disposition.</p> - -<p>Ceremonious shew was made, of sending a servant to the Inne, for -not expecting <i>Andreas</i> presence at Supper, though no such matter was -performed; but, after divers other discoursings, the table being covered, -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. <i>Andrea</i> then offring to take -his leave, she would (by no meanes) suffer it, but tolde him that <i>Naples</i> -was a Citie of such strict Lawes and Ordinances, as admitted no night-walkers, -although they were Natives, much lesse strangers, but punished -them with great severity. 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 give her Brother <i>Andrea</i> -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 <i>Fiordeliza</i> (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.</p> - -<p>After supper, their conference lasted very long, purposely dilated out -in length, that a great part of the night might therein be wasted: when, -leaving <i>Andrea</i> 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, <i>Andrea</i> put off his hose and doublet, and beeing in his -shirt alone, layed them underneath the beds boulster, as seeming carefull -of his money. But finding a provocation 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 upon a board, which was fastened -at neither ende to the joynts 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 receive no harme in the -fall (although it was of extraordinary height) onely the filth of the place, -(it being over full) had fowly myred him.</p> - -<p>Now for your better understanding the quality of the place, and what -ensued thereupon, it is not unnecessary to describe it, according to a common -use observed in those parts. There was a narrow passage or entrie, -as often we see reserved betweene two houses, for eithers benefit to such -a needfull place; and boards loosely lay upon the joynts, which such as -were acquainted withall, could easily avoide any perill, in passing to or -from the stoole. But our so newly created brother, not dreaming to find -a queane to his Sister, receiving 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, who intended not to give 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 -under the beds head, shee needed no instruction for search in his pockets. -But having found the gold, which <i>Andrea</i> 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 -<i>Palermo</i>, and Daughter to <i>Piero</i> of <i>Perouse</i>, so that not regarding him any -longer, but making fast the house of Office doore, there shee left him in -that miserable taking.</p> - -<p>Poore <i>Andrea</i> perceiving, 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 understanding his error, though somewhat too late, hee -made such meanes constrainedly, that he got over a wall, which severed -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 have I lost a Sister, and five hundred -Crownes besides? with many other words, loude calles, and beatings upon -the doore without intermission, the neighbours finding themselves -diseased, and unable 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 <i>Andrea</i>) know you not me? I am <i>Andrea -de Piero</i>, Brother to your Mistresse <i>Fiordeliza</i>. Thou art a drunken knave, -replied the Maide, more full of drinke then wit, goe sleepe, goe sleepe, -and come againe to morrow: for I know no <i>Andrea de Piero</i>, neither hath -my Mistresse any such Brother, get thee gone good man, and suffer us to -sleepe I pray thee. How now (quoth <i>Andrea</i>) doest thou not understand -what I say? Thou knowest that I supt with thy Mistresse this night; but if -our <i>Sicilian</i> kindred be so soone forgot, I pray thee give 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.</p> - -<p>Now could <i>Andrea</i> assure himselfe, that his gold and cloathes were -past recovery, which moving him to the more impatience, his former -intercessions became converted into fury, and what hee could not compasse -by faire entreats, he entended to winne by outrage and violence, so -that taking up a great stone in his hand, hee layed upon 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 used 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 reprove him, -even 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 unseasonable time of the night. For -Gods sake (good man) be gone, and let us sleepe; if thou have 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.</p> - -<p><i>Andrea</i> 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 <i>Andrea</i>, 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? <i>Andrea</i> fearefully looking up, 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 received in no honest quarels, yawning also and stretching, as -angry to have 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 never better beaten in all thy life, like a drunken slave -and beast as thou art, that all this night wilt not let us sleepe; and so hee -clapt to the window againe.</p> - -<p>The neighbours, well acquainted with this Ruffians rude conditions, -speaking in gentle manner to <i>Andrea</i>, 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 <i>Andrea</i>, but much more the stearne oathes -and ugly sight of the Ruffian, incited also by the neighbours counsell, -whom he imagined to advise 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 offensive to himselfe: that, desiring to wash him -at the Sea side, he strayed too farre wide on the contrary hand, wandring -up the streete called <i>Ruga Gatellana</i>.</p> - -<p>Proceeding on still, even 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 stept 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 <i>Andreaes</i> being there, one of -them layd downe divers 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 ever I felt in all my life. So, lifting up his Lanthorne, he espied poore -pittifull <i>Andrea</i>, closely couched behinde the wall. Which sight somewhat -affrighting him, he yet boldly demaunded, what and who hee was: -whereto <i>Andrea</i> 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.</p> - -<p>Constraint having now no other evasion, but that (of necessity) all -must out: hee related to them the whole adventure, 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 <i>Scarabone -Buttafuoco</i>; And then turning to <i>Andrea</i>, 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, beleeve 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 againe the least doyt of thy losse. And for that shag-haird -Slave in the house, he will be thy deaths-man, if he but understand, 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, wherefore, if thou wilt friendly -associate us, 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 <i>Andrea</i>, hee perswaded -himselfe, worse then had already happened, could not befall him; -and therefore he would gladly adventure with them.</p> - -<p>The selfe same day preceding this disastrous night to <i>Andrea</i>, in the -chiefe Church of the Citie, had beene buried the Archbishop of <i>Naples</i>, -named <i>Signior Philippo Minutolo</i>, in his richest pontificall roabes and ornaments, -and a Ruby on his finger, valued to be worth five hundred duckets -of gold: this dead body they purposed to rob and rifle, acquainting -<i>Andrea</i> with their whole intent, whose necessity (coupled with a covetous -desire) made him more forward then well advised, to joyne with -them in this sacriligious enterprise. On they went towards the great -Church, <i>Andreaes</i> unsavourie perfume much displeasing them, whereupon -the one said to his fellow. Can we devise no ease for this foule and -noysome inconvenience? the very smell of him will be a meanes to betray -us. 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 up againe, which accordingly -they forth-with performed.</p> - -<p>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, perceiving the Watch -so neere upon them: left <i>Andrea</i> in the Pit to shift for himselfe, running -away to shelter themselves. Their flight was not discovered by the -Watch, but they comming to the Well-pit, <i>Andrea</i> remained still in -the bottome, and having cleansed himselfe so well as hee could, sate -wagging the rope, expecting when hee should be haled up. 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 up -the rope, thinking the Bucket was fastened thereto, and full of water. -<i>Andrea</i> being haled up 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 up a Spirit; not daring to speake one word, ranne away with all the -hast they could make.</p> - -<p><i>Andrea</i> hereat was not a little amazed, so that if he had not taken very -good hold on the brim: he might have 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 mervaile 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 <i>Andrea</i> could not resolve 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 up, for feare of whom they left him, and so declared to him the reason -of their returne.</p> - -<p>Leaving 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 cover-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 <i>Andrea</i>. Which when the other two heard, they caught fast hold -of him, saying. Wilt not thou goe into the Tombe? Be advised what thou -sayest, for, if thou wilt not goe in: we will so beat thee with one of these -yron crowes, that thou shalt never goe out of this Church alive.</p> - -<p>Thus poore <i>Andrea</i> is still made a property, and Fortune (this fatall -night) will have no other foole but he, as delighting in his hourly disasters. -Feare of their fury makes him obedient, into the grave he goes, and being -within, thus consults with himselfe. These cunning companions suppose -me to be simple, & make me enter the Tombe, having an absolute intention -to deceive me. For, when I have given 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 leaving me here, not onely shall I loose -my right among them, but must remaine to what danger may follow -after. Having thus meditated, he resolved 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, -Gloves and all, leaving him nothing but his shirt, giving them -all these severall parcels; protesting, that there was nothing else. Still they -pressed upon him, affirming that there was a Ring beside, urging 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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Andrea</i> mewed up in the grave. Which -when he perceived, 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 utmost strength he employeth, to remove -that over-heavy hinderer of his liberty: but all his labour beeing -spent in vaine, sorrow threw him in a swoond upon the Byshoppes dead -body, where if both of them might at that instant have bene observed, the -Arch-byshops dead body, and <i>Andrea</i> 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 unavoydable extremities. Dye starving must he in the tombe, with -putrifaction of the dead body; or if any man came to open the Grave, -then must he be apprehended as a sacrilegious Theefe, and so be hanged, -according to the lawes in that case provided.</p> - -<p>As he continued in these strange afflictions of minde, sodainely hee -heard a noise in the Church of divers men, who (as he imagined) came -about the like businesse, as hee and his fellowes had undertaken before; -wherein he was not a jot deceived, albeit his feare the more augmented. -Having opened the Tombe, and supported the stone, they varied also among -themselves 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-liver'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. Having 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.</p> - -<p><i>Andrea</i> sitting upright in the Tombe, and desiring to make use 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 divels. <i>Andrea</i> little -dreaming on such fortunate successe, made meanes to get out of the -grave, and afterward forth of the Church, at the very same place where he -entred.</p> - -<p>Now began day-light to appeare, when hee, having the rich Ring on -his finger, wandred on hee knew not whether: till comming to the Sea-side, -he found the way directing to his Inne, where all his company were -with his Host, who had bene very carefull for him. Having related his -manifold mischances, his Hoste friendly advised him with speede to get -him out of <i>Naples</i>. As instantly he did, returning home to <i>Perouse</i>, having -adventured his five hundred Crownes on a Ring, where-with hee -purposed to have bought Horses, according to the intent of his journey -thither.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Madame_Beritola_Caracalla_was_found_in_an_Island_with_two_Goates_having" id="Madame_Beritola_Caracalla_was_found_in_an_Island_with_two_Goates_having"><i>Madame Beritola Caracalla, was found in an Island with two Goates, having -lost her two Sonnes, and thence travailed into Lunigiana: where one of her -Sonnes became servant to the Lord thereof, and was found somewhat over-familiar -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.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The sixt Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Heerein all men are admonished, never to distrust the powerfull hand of Heaven, -when Fortune seemeth to be most adverse against them.</i></h4> - - -<p>The Ladies and Gentlemen also, having smiled sufficiently at the severall -accidents which did befall the poore Traveller <i>Andrea</i>, reported -at large by Madame <i>Fiammetta</i>, the Lady <i>Æmillia</i>, seeing her tale to be -fully concluded, began (by commandement of the Queene) to speake in -this manner.</p> - -<p>The diversitie of changes and alterations in Fortune as they are great, -so must they needs be greevous; and as often as we take occasion to talk -of them, as often do they awake and quicken our understandings, avouching, -that it is no easie matter to depend upon her flatteries. And I am -of opinion, that to heare them recounted, ought not any way to offend -us, be it of men wretched or fortunate; because, as they enstruct the one -with good advise, so they animate the other with comfort. And therefore, -although great occasions have 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 beleeve, that ever any sorrow was more joyfully -sweetened.</p> - -<p>You must understand then (most gracious Ladies) that after the death -of <i>Fredericke</i> the second Emperour, one named <i>Manfred</i>, was crowned -King of <i>Sicilie</i>, about whom lived in great account and authority, a <i>Neapolitane</i> -Gentleman, called <i>Henriet Capece</i>, who had to Wife a beautifull -Gentlewoman, and a <i>Neapolitane</i> also, named Madam <i>Beritola Caracalla</i>. -This <i>Henriet</i> held the government of the Kingdome of <i>Sicilie</i>, and understanding, -that King <i>Charles</i> the first, had wonne the battle of <i>Beneventum</i>, -and slaine King <i>Manfred</i>; the whole Kingdome revolting also to his devotion, -and little trust to be reposed in the <i>Sicillians</i>, or he willing to subject -himselfe to his Lords enemy; provided for his secret flight from -thence. But this being discovered to the <i>Sicillians</i>, he and many more, -who had beene loyall servants to King <i>Manfred</i>, were suddenly taken and -imprisoned by King <i>Charles</i>, and the sole possession of the Iland confirmed -to him.</p> - -<p>Madam <i>Beritola</i> not knowing (in so sudden and strange an alteration -of State affaires) what was become of her Husband, fearing also greatly -before, those inconveniences which afterward followed; being overcome -with many passionate considerations, having left and forsaken all -her goods, going aboard a small Barke with a Sonne of hers, aged about -some eight yeeres, named <i>Geoffrey</i>, and growne great with childe with another; -shee fled thence to <i>Lipary</i>, where shee was brought to bed of another -Sonne, whom shee named (answerable both to his and her hard fortune) -<i>The poore expelled</i>.</p> - -<p>Having provided her selfe of a Nurse, they altogether went aboard againe, -setting sayle for <i>Naples</i> to visit her Parents; but it chanced quite -contrary to her expectation, because by stormie windes and weather, the -vessell being bound for <i>Naples</i>, was hurried to the Ile of <i>Ponzo</i>, where entring -into a small Port of the Sea, they concluded to make their aboade, -till a time more furtherous should favour their voyage.</p> - -<p>As the rest, so did Madam <i>Beritola</i> goe on shore in the Iland, where having -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, -unseene by any of the Marriners, or whosoever else: there arrived -suddenly a Galley of Pyrates, who seazing on the small Barke, carried it -and all the rest in it away with them. When <i>Beritola</i> 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 perceyved, 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 uppon the -shore.</p> - -<p>Now was not any body neere, with coole water or any other remedy, -to helpe the recovery 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 Caves, Dennes, and every 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 respective of her selfe, & therefore -departing from the sea-shore, she returned to the solitary place, where -she used to sigh and mourne alone by her selfe.</p> - -<p>The night being over-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 travailes. 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 -hearbes so well as she could, not without many piercing afflictions, what -should become of her in this extraordinary misery. As shee walked in -these pensive meditations, she saw a Goate enter into a Cave, 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.</p> - -<p>As yet she had milke freshly running in both her brests, by reason of -her so late delivery in child-bed; wherefore shee lay downe unto 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 -lovingly as their dammes, and from that time forward, they made no distinguishing -betweene their damme and her. Thus this unfortunate Lady, -having 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 manner. Here shee resolved now to live and dye, being at -last deprived both of the damme and yonger Kids also, by theyr wandering -further into the neere adjoining Woods, according to their Naturall -inclinations; whereby the poore distressed Lady became more savage -and wilde in her daily conditions, then otherwise shee would have -bene.</p> - -<p>After many monthes were over-passed, at the very same place where -she tooke landing; by chance, there arrived another small vessell of certaine -<i>Pisans</i>, which remained there divers dayes. In this Bark was a Gentleman, -named <i>Conrado de Marchesi Malespini</i>, with his holy and vertuous -wife, who were returned backe from a Pilgrimage, having visited all the -sanctified places, that then were in the Kingdome of <i>Apulia</i>, & now were -bound homeward to their owne abiding. This Gentleman, for the expelling -of melancholy perturbations, one especiall day amongst other, -with his wife, servants, and waiting hounds, wandered up into the Iland, -not far from the place of Madam <i>Beritolaes</i> 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 -themselves thus pursued by the hounds, fled to no other part of the -wood, then to the Cave where <i>Beritola</i> remained, and seeming as if they -sought to be rescued only by her, she sodainly caught up a staffe, and forced -the hounds thence to flight.</p> - -<p>By this time, <i>Conrado</i> 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 (upon -her request) <i>Conrado</i> had checkt back his hounds, they prevailed so much -by earnest intreaties, to know what she was, and the reason of her living -there; that she intirely related her quality, unfortunate accidents, and -strange determination for living 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 ever she had done before.</p> - -<p>When these gentle offers could not prevaile 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 wives, not doubting but to winne her thence with -them. His wife abode there with <i>Beritola</i>, 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 <i>Lunigiana</i>, carrying also with -her the two yong Goats and their damme, which were then in the Cave -altogether, prettily playing before <i>Beritola</i>, to the great admiration of -<i>Conrado</i> and his wife, as also the servants attending on them.</p> - -<p>When the windes and weather grew favourable for them, Madam -<i>Beritola</i> went aboard with <i>Conrado</i> and his wife, being followed by the -two young Goates and their Damme; and because her name should bee -knowne to none but <i>Conrado</i>, 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 River of <i>Macra</i>, where going on shore, and -into their owne Castell, <i>Beritola</i> kept company with the wife of <i>Conrado</i>, -but in a mourning habite, and a wayting Gentlewoman of hers, honest, -humble, and very dutifull, the Goates alwayes familiarly keeping them -company.</p> - -<p>Returne wee now to the Pyrates, which at <i>Ponzo</i> seized on the small -Barke, wherein Madam <i>Beritola</i> 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 <i>Geneway</i>, and there (by -consent of the Patrones of the Galley) made a division of their booties. -It came to passe, that (among other things) the Nurse that attended on -<i>Beritola</i>, and the two Children with her, fell to the share of one <i>Messer -Gasparino d'Oria</i>, who sent them together to his owne House, there to be -employed in service as servants. 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 utterly fruitlesse and to none effect, though -she was used as a servant with them, and being but a very poore woman, -yet was shee wise and discreetly advised. 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 advantaged -thereby.</p> - -<p>Hereupon, hoping that Fortune (early or late) would alter her stearne -malice, and that they might (if they lived) regaine once more their former -condition: shee would not disclose them to any one whatsoever, 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, naming the eldest not <i>Geoffrey</i>, but <i>Jehannot de Procida</i>. [Or Grannotto da Prochyta.] As for the youngest, shee cared not greatly for changing his name, -and therefore wisely enformed <i>Geoffrey</i>, upon what reason shee had altered -his name, and what danger he might fall into, if he should otherwise -be discovered; 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 observe.</p> - -<p>The two young Laddes, very poorely garmented, but much worse -hosed and shodde, continued thus in the house of <i>Gasparino</i>, where both -they and the Nurse were long time imployed, about very base and drudging -Offices, which yet they endured with admirable patience. But <i>Jehannot</i>, -aged already about sixteene yeeres, having a loftier spirit, then -belonged to a slavish servant, despising the basenesse of his servile condition; -departed from the drudgery of <i>Messer Gasparino</i>, and going aboard -the Gallies, which were bound for <i>Alexandria</i>, fortuned into many places, -yet none of them affoording him any advancement. In the ende, about -three or foure yeares after his departure from <i>Gasparino</i>, being now -a brave young man, and of very goodly forme: he understood, that his Father -(whom he supposed to be dead) was as yet living; but in captivity, -and prisoner to King <i>Charles</i>. Wherefore, despairing of any successefull -fortune, hee wandred here and there, till he came to <i>Lunigiana</i>, and -there (by strange accident) he became servant to <i>Messer Conrado Malespina</i>, -where the service proved well liking to them both.</p> - -<p>Very sildome times hee had a sight of his Mother, because shee alwayes -kept company with <i>Conradoes</i> 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. <i>Jehannot</i> being thus in the service of <i>Messer Conrado</i>, it -fortuned that a daughter of his, named <i>Spina</i>, being the Widdow of one -<i>Messer Nicolas Grignan</i>, returned home to her Fathers House. Very beautifull -and amiable shee was, young likewise, aged but little above sixteene; -growing wonderously amorous of <i>Jehannot</i>, and he of her, in extraordinary -and most fervent manner; which love was not long without full effect, -continuing many moneths before any person could perceive 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 providently managed.</p> - -<p>Upon a day, he and shee walking to a goodly wood, plentifully furnished -with spreading Trees, having 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 over-short -to them, yet was it so unadvisedly prolonged; that they were on a sudden -surprized, first by the Mother, and next by <i>Messer Conrado</i> himselfe: who -greeving beyond measure, to be thus trecherously dealt withall, caused -them to be apprehended by three of his servants, 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.</p> - -<p>The Mother to this regardlesse Daughter, having heard the angry -words of her Husband, and how hee would be revenged on the faultie; -could not endure that he should be so severe: 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, and 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 servant. 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 used such plenty of mooving 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 uneasiest, untill hee should -otherwise determine of them, and so it was done. What their life now -was in captivity and continuall teares, with stricter abstinence then was -needefull for them; all this I must commit to your consideration.</p> - -<p><i>Jehannot</i> and <i>Spina</i> remaining in this comfortlesse condition, and an -whole yeere being now out-worne, yet <i>Conrado</i> keeping them thus still -imprisoned: it came to passe, that <i>Don Pedro</i> King of <i>Arragon</i>, by the -meanes of <i>Messer John de Procida</i>, caused the Isle of <i>Sicily</i> to revolt, and -tooke it away from King <i>Charles</i>, whereat <i>Conrado</i> (he being of the <i>Ghibbiline</i> -faction) not a little rejoyced. <i>Jehannot</i> having intelligence thereof, -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 -have already gone begging through the world above 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 never 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 -<i>Sicily</i>?</p> - -<p>Once more <i>Jehannot</i> sighed extreamly, and returned him this answer. -Me thinkes my heart (quoth hee) doth cleave 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 -Governour there, at such time as King <i>Manfred</i> lived. The Guard, pursuing -on still his purpose, demanded of him, what, and who his Father -was? My Father (replyed <i>Jehannot</i>) I may now securely speake of him, -being out of the perill which neerely concerned me if I had beene discovered. -He was the named (and so still if he be living) <i>Henriet Capece</i>, and -my name is <i>Geoffrey</i>, not <i>Jehannot</i>; and I make no doubt, but if I were -free from hence, and might be returned home to <i>Sicily</i>, I should (for his -sake) be placed in some authority.</p> - -<p>The honest man of the Guard, without seeking after any further information; -so soone as he could compasse the leysure, reported all to <i>Messer -Conrado</i>, who having heard these newes (albeit he made no shew thereof -to the revealer) went to Madam <i>Beritola</i>, graciously demaunding of -her, if she had any sonne by her husband, who was called <i>Geoffrey</i>. The -Lady replyed in teares, that if her eldest sonne were as yet living, hee was -so named, and now aged about two and twenty yeares. <i>Conrado</i> hearing -this, imagined this same to be the man, considering further withall, that -if it fell out to prove so: he might have the better meanes of mercie, and -closely concealing his daughters shame, joyfully joyne them in marriage -together.</p> - -<p>Hereupon he secretly caused <i>Jehannot</i> to be brought before him, examining -him particularly of all his passed life, and finding (by most manifest -arguments) that his name was truly <i>Geoffrey</i>, & he the eldest son of <i>Henriet -Capece</i>, he spake to him alone in this manner. <i>Jehannot</i>, thou knowest how -great the injuries are which thou hast done me, & my deare daughter, gently -entreating thee (as became a good & honest servant) that thou shouldest -alwayes have bin respective of mine honour, and all that do appertain unto -me. There are many noble Gentlemen, who sustaining the wrong which -thou hast offred me, they would have procured thy shameful death, which -pitty & compassion will not suffer in me. Wherefore seeing (as thou informest -me) that thou art honourably derived both by father & mother; I will -give end to all thine anguishes, even when thy self art so pleased, releasing -thee from the misery & captivity, wherein I have so long time kept thee, -and in one instant, reduce thine honour & mine into compleat perfection. -As thou knowest, my Daughter <i>Spina</i>, whom thou hast embraced in kindnesse -as a friend (although farre unfitting 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.</p> - -<p>Imprisonment had somewhat misshapen <i>Jehannot</i> in his outward forme, -but not impaired a jot of that noble spirit, really derived from his famous -progenitors, much lesse the true love he bare to his faire friend. And although -most earnestly he desired that, which <i>Conrado</i> 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 resolved judgement, thus replied. -My Lord, affectation of rule, desire of wealthy possessions, or any -other matter whatsoever, could never make me a traytor to you or yours; -but that I have loved, do love & for ever shal love your beautious daughter; -if that be treason, I freely confesse it, & will die a thousand deaths, before -you or any else shal enforce me to denie it; for I hold her highly worthy of -my love. If I have bin more unmannerly with her, then became me, according -to the opinion of vulgar judgment, I have committed but that error, -which evermore is so attendant upon youth; that to denie it, is to denie -youth also. And if reverend age would but remember, that once he was -young, & measure others offences by his own; they would not be thought -so great or greevous, as you (& many more) account them to be, mine being -committed as a friend, & not as an enemy: what you make offer of so willingly -to do, I have alwayes desired, & if I had thought it would have bin -granted, long since I had most humbly requested it; and so much the more -acceptable would it have 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 love to your Daughter <i>Spina</i>, maketh mee to love -you the more for her sake; how hardly soever you entreate me, & bindeth -me in the greater reverence to you, as being the father of my fairest friend.</p> - -<p><i>Messer Conrado</i> hearing these words, stood as one confounded with admiration, -reputing him to be a man of lofty spirit, and his affection most -fervent to his Daughter, which was not 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 meager, 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 <i>Jehannot</i>; 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) having furnished them with all -things fit for the purpose, and time aptly serving, that the Mothers should -be partakers in this joy; he called his wife, and Madam <i>Beritola</i>, to whom -first he spake in this manner.</p> - -<p>What will you say Madam, if I cause you to see your eldest Son, not -long since married to one of my Daughters? whereunto <i>Beritola</i> thus replied. -My Lord, I can say nothing else unto 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 unto 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 Love, 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 <i>Messer Conrado</i>, -I hope (within few dayes) to make you both joyfull. So when the amorous -couple had recovered their former feature, and honourable garments -were prepared for them, privately thus he said to <i>Geoffrey</i>; Beyond -the joy which already thou art inriched withall, how would it please thee -to meet with thine owne Mother here? I cannot beleeve Sir, replied <i>Geoffrey</i>, -that her greevous misfortunes have suffered her to live so long: yet -notwithstanding, if Heaven hath beene so merciful to her, my joyes were -incomparable, for by her gracious counsell, I might well hope to recover -no meane happinesse in <i>Sicilie</i>. Within a while after, both the Mothers -were sent for, who were transported with unspeakable joyes, when they -beheld the so lately maried couple; being also much amazed, when they -could not guesse what inspiration had guided <i>Conrado</i> to this extraordinary -benignity, joyning <i>Jehannot</i> in mariage with <i>Spina</i>. Hereupon Madam -<i>Beritola</i>, remembring the speeches between her and <i>Conrado</i>, began -to observe him very advisedly, and by a hidden vertue, which long had -silently slept in her, and now with joy 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 joy and pitty now contended so violently together, that -shee was not able to utter one word, the sensitive vertues being -so closely combined, that (even 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. Neverthelesse, -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 understanding, that he had not before beene -better advised, he threw his armes about her, and wept exceedingly.</p> - -<p>Afterward, by the loving paines of <i>Conradoes</i> wife, as also her daughter -<i>Spina</i>, Madam <i>Beritola</i> (being recovered 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 over and over, -to no little joy in all the beholders, beside repetition of their severall -misfortunes. <i>Messer Conrado</i> 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, <i>Geoffrey</i> -having found out fit place and opportunity, for conference with his -new created Father, without any sinister opposition; began as followeth.</p> - -<p>Honourable Father, you have raised my contentment to the highest -degree, and have heaped also many gracious favours on my noble Mother; -but now in the finall conclusion, that nothing may remaine uneffected, -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 have my Brother present. <i>Messer Gasparino -d'Oria</i> (as I have once heretofore told you) questing as a common -Pyrate on the Seas, tooke us, and sent us home to his house as slaves, -where (as yet he detaineth him.) I would have you likewise send one into -<i>Sicilie</i>, who informing himselfe more amply in the state of the Country; -may understand what is become of <i>Henriet</i> my Father, and whether he be -living or no. If he remaine alive, to know in what condition he is; and being -secretly instructed in all things, then to returne backe againe to you.</p> - -<p>This motion made by <i>Geoffrey</i>, was so pleasing to <i>Conrado</i>, that without -any reference to further leysure, hee dispatched thence two discreete -persons, the one to <i>Genewaye</i>, and the other to <i>Sicilie</i>: he which went for -<i>Geneway</i>, having met with <i>Gasparino</i>, earnestly entreated him, (on the behalfe -of <i>Conrado</i>) to send him the <i>Poore expelled</i>; and his Nurse recounting -every thing in order, which <i>Conrado</i> had tolde him, concerning <i>Geoffrey</i> -and his Mother: when <i>Gasparino</i> had heard the whole discourse, he marvelled -greatly thereat, and saide; True it is, that I will doe any thing for -<i>Messer Conrado</i>, which may be to his love and liking, provided, 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 unto him. But you may tell him from me, that -I advise him from over-rash crediting the fables of <i>Jehannot</i>, that now -tearms himselfe by the name of <i>Geoffrey</i>, because hee is a more wicked -boy, then he taketh him to be, and so did I find him.</p> - -<p>Having thus spoken, and giving kinde welcome to the Messenger, secretly -he called the Nurse unto him, whom he heedfully examined concerning -this case. Shee having heard the rebellion in the Kingdome of -<i>Sicilie</i>, and understanding withall, that <i>Henriet</i> was yet living; joyfully -threw off all her former feare, relating every thing to him orderly, and the -reasons moving her, to conceale the whole businesse in such manner as -shee had done. <i>Gasparino</i> well perceiving, that the report of the Nurse, -and the message received from <i>Conrado</i>, 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 devise, and finding every thing to yeeld undoubted -assurance; ashamed of the vile and base usage, 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 <i>Henriet</i> also yet living, he gave -her to him in marriage, with a very bountifull and honourable dowry.</p> - -<p>The joviall dayes of feasting being past, he went aboard a Galley, with -the <i>Poore expelled</i>; his Daughter, the Ambassadour, and the Nurse, departing -thence to <i>Lericy</i>, where they were nobly welcommed by <i>Messer Conrado</i>, -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 joy of the Brethren and Mother together, -having also found the faithfull Nurse, <i>Gasparino</i> and his Daughter, in company -now with <i>Conrado</i> and his Wife, friends, familiars, and all generally -in a Jubilee of rejoycing: it exceedeth capacity in me to expresse it, and -therefore I referre it to your more able imagination.</p> - -<p>In the time of this mutuall contentment, to the ende that nothing -might be wanting, to compleat and perfect this universall joy; our Lord, -a most aboundant bestower where he beginneth, added long wished tydings, -concerning the life and good estate of <i>Henriet Capece</i>. For, even -as they were feasting, and the concourse great of worthy guests, both of -Lords and Ladies: the first service was scarcely set on the Tables, but the -Ambassador which was sent to <i>Sicilie</i>, arrived there before them. Among -many other important matters, he spake of <i>Henriet</i>, who being so long a -time detained in prison by King <i>Charles</i>, when the commotion arose in -the City against the King; the people (grudging at <i>Henriets</i> long imprisonment) -slew the Guards, and let him at liberty. Then as capitall enemy -to King <i>Charles</i>, he was created Captaine generall, following the chase, -and killing the French.</p> - -<p>By meanes whereof, he grew great in the grace of King <i>Pedro</i>, 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 delivery of publike joy -and exaltation, when his Wife and Sonne were knowne to be living, of -whom no tydings had at any time beene heard, since the houre of his surprizall. -Moreover, that a swift winged Barke was now sent thither (upon -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 <i>Beritola</i> and <i>Geoffrey</i>; who before they -would sit downe at the Table, saluted <i>Messer Conrado</i> and his kinde Lady -(on the behalfe of <i>Henriet</i>) for all the great graces extended to her and -her Sonne, with promise of any thing, lying in the power of <i>Henriet</i>, to -rest continually at their command. The like they did to <i>Signior Gasparino</i>, -(whose liberall favours came unlooked for) with certaine assurance, that -when <i>Henriet</i> should understand what hee had done for his other Sonne, -the <i>Poore expelled</i>; there would be no defailance of riciprocall courtesies.</p> - -<p>As the longest joyes have no perpetuity of lasting, so all these gracefull -ceremonies had their conclusion, with as many sighes and teares at parting, -as joyes abounded at their first encountring. Imagine then, that -you see such aboard, as were to have here no longer abiding, Madam <i>Beritola</i> -and <i>Geoffrey</i>, with the rest, as the <i>Poore expelled</i>, the so late married -Wives, and the faithfull Nurse bearing them company. With prosperous -windes they arrived in <i>Sicilie</i>, where the Wife, Sonnes, and Daughters, -were joyfully met by <i>Henriet</i> at <i>Palermo</i>, and with such honourable -pompe, as a case so important equally deserved. The Histories make further -mention, that there they lived (a long while after) in much felicity, -with thankfull hearts (no doubt) to Heaven, in acknowledgement of so -many great mercies received.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="The_Soldan_of_Babylon_sent_one_of_his_Daughters_to_be_joyned_in_marriage_with" id="The_Soldan_of_Babylon_sent_one_of_his_Daughters_to_be_joyned_in_marriage_with"><i>The Soldan of Babylon sent one of his Daughters, to be joyned in marriage with -the King of</i> Cholcos; <i>who by divers 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</i> Cholcos, <i>as -a Maide, and as at first shee was intended to be his wife.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The seaventh Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>A lively demonstration, that the beauty of a Woman, (oftentimes) is very hurtfull -to her selfe, and the occasion of many evils, yea, and of death, to divers -men.</i></h4> - - -<p>Peradventure the Novell related by Madam <i>Æmilia</i>, did not extend it -selfe so farre in length, as it moved compassion in the Ladies mindes, -hearing the hard fortunes of <i>Beritola</i> and her Children, which had incited -them to weeping: but that it pleased the Queene (upon the Tales conclusion) -to command <i>Pamphilus</i>, to follow (next in order) with his discourse, -and hee being thereto very obedient, beganne in this manner.</p> - -<p>It is a matter of no meane difficulty (vertuous Ladies) for us to take intire -knowledge of every thing we doe, because (as oftentimes hath beene -observed) many men, imagining if they were rich, they should live securely, -and without any cares. And therefore, not onely have their -prayers and intercessions aimed at that end, but also their studies and daily -endeavours, without refusall of any paines or perils have not meanely -expressed their hourely solicitude. And although it hath happened accordingly -to them, and their covetous desires fully accomplished; yet at -length they have met with such kinde of people, who likewise thirsting -after their wealthy possessions, have 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 adventuring in many skirmishes and -foughten battels, trampling in the bloud of their brethren and friends, -have beene mounted to the soveraigne dignity of Kingdomes, (beleeving -that therein consisted the truest happinesse) but bought with the dearest -price of their lives. For, beside their infinite cares and feares, wherewith -such greatnesse is continually attended, at their royall Tables, they have -drunke poyson in a golden pot. Many other in like manner (with most -earnest appetite) have coveted beauty and bodily strength, not foreseeing -with any judgement, that these wishes were not without perill; when being -endued with them, they either have beene the occasion of their death, -or such a lingering lamentable estate of life, as death were a thousand -times more welcome to them.</p> - -<p>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 us mortals, with entire foresight or providence, 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 us, and will -bestow them at his good pleasure. Nor let me lay this blamefull imputation -upon men onely, for offending in many things through over lavish -desires: because you your selves (gracious Ladies) sinne highly in one, -as namely, in coveting to be beautifull. So that it is not sufficient for -you, to enjoy 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 adventures) within the compasse of foure yeares, -nine severall times to be maried, and onely for her beauty.</p> - -<p>It is now a long time since, that there lived a Soldane in <i>Babylon</i>, named -<i>Beminidab</i>, to whom (while he lived) many things happened, answerable -to his owne desires. Among divers other children both male and -female, he had a daughter, called <i>Alathiella</i>, and shee (according to the -common voyce of every one that saw her) was the fayrest Lady then living -in all the world. And because the King of <i>Cholcos</i> had wonderfully -assisted him, in a valiant foughten battaile, against a mighty Armie of -<i>Arabes</i>, who on a suddaine had assailed him: hee demaunded his faire -daughter in marriage, which likewise was kindly granted to him. A goodly -and well armed Ship was prepared for her, with full furnishment of all -necessary provision, and accompanied with an honourable traine, both -Lords and Ladies, as also most costly and sumptuous accoustrements; -commending her to the mercy of heaven, in this manner was shee sent -away.</p> - -<p>The time being propitious for their parting thence, the Mariners hoised -their sayles, leaving the part of <i>Alexandria</i>, and sayling prosperously -many dayes together. When they had past the Country of <i>Sardignia</i>, -and (as they imagined) were well neere to their journeyes 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, gave over all hope of escaping -with life. Neverthelesse, as men most expert in implacable dangers, they -laboured to their uttermost power, and contended with infinite blustring -tempests, for the space of two dayes and nights together, hoping the third -day would prove more favourable. But therein they saw themselves deceived, -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 marivall judgement, or any -apprehension else whatsoever, the heavens were so clouded, and the -nights darknesse so extreame.</p> - -<p>Being (unknowne to them) neere the Isle of <i>Majorica</i>, they felt the -Ship to split in the bottome, by meanes whereof, perceiving now no -hope of escaping (every one caring for himselfe, and not any other) they -threw forth a Squiffe on the troubled waves, 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 prevailed, -that what with the tempests violence, and over-lading of the -Squiffe, it sunke to the bottome, and all perished that were therein. 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 driven into a strand of the Isle <i>Majorica</i>, no other persons remaining -therein; but onely the Lady and her women, all of them (through -the rude tempest, and their owne conceived 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.</p> - -<p>When day appeared, and the violent stormes were more mildly appeased, -the Lady, who seemed well-neere dead, lifted up 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 jogging -one, and then another, and calling them severally by their names; shee -found them bereft of understanding, and even as if they were dead, their -hearts were so quailed, and their feare so over-ruling, which was no -meane dismay to the poore Lady her selfe. Neverthelesse, necessity -now being her best counsailour, seeing her selfe thus all alone, and not -knowing in what place she was, she used such meanes to them that were -living, that (at the last) they came better to knowledge of themselves. -And being unable to guesse, what was become of the men and Mariners, -seeing the Ship also driven on the sands, and filled with water: she began -(with them) to lament most grievously, 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 urgent a necessity.</p> - -<p>At length, noone being past, a Gentleman, named <i>Bajazeth</i>, attended -by divers of his followers on horseback, and returning from a Country -house belonging to him, chanced to ride by on the sands. Upon 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 resolve his Lord what remayned therein. There hee -found the faire young Lady, with such small store of company as was left -her, fearefully hidden under the prow of the Ship. So soone as they saw -him, they held up their hands, wofully desiring mercy of him: but he perceiving -their lamentable condition, and that hee understoode not what -they said to them; their affliction grew the greater, labouring by signes -and gestures, to give him knowledge of their misfortune.</p> - -<p>The servant, gathering what he could by their outward behaviour, 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 gave them comfort. By the rich garments which -the Lady was cloathed withall, hee reputed her to be a Gentlewoman -well derived, as the great reverence done to her by the rest, gave him -good reason to conceive. 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 lovely in the eye of <i>Bajazeth</i>, -whereupon forthwith he determined, that if she were not maried, -he would enjoy 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.</p> - -<p><i>Bajazeth</i> was a man of sterne lookes, rough and harsh both in speech -and behaviour: yet causing the Lady to be honourably used divers dayes -together, she became thereby well comforted and recovered. And seeing -her beauty to exceede all comparison, he was afflicted beyond measure, -that he could not understand 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 endeavour proved to no purpose, -for shee refused all familiar privacie with him, which so much the -more kindled the fury of his desire. This being well observed by the Lady, -having 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 advantage her, beside, -that long protraction of time would provoke <i>Bajazeth</i>, by faire -meanes or force to obtaine his will: she propounded to her selfe (with -magnanimity of spirit) to tread all misfortunes under her feete, commaunding -her women (whereof she had but three now remaining alive) -that they should not disclose what she was; except it were in some such -place, where manifest signes might yeeld hope of regaining their liberty. -Moreover, shee admonished them, stoutly to defend their honour and -chastity, affirming, that shee had absolutely resolved with her selfe, that -never any other should enjoy her, but her intended husband; wherein -her women did much commend her, promising to preserve their reputation, -according as she had commanded.</p> - -<p>Day by day were the torments of <i>Bajazeth</i> wonderfully augmented, -yet still his kinde offers scornefully refused, and he as farre off from compassing -his desires, as when hee first began to moove the matter: wherefore, -perceiving that all faire courses served to no effect, hee resolved to -compasse his purpose by craft and subtilty, reserving rigorous extremity -for his finall conclusion. And having once observed, that wine was very -pleasing to the Lady, she being never used to drinke any at all, because (by -her Countries law) it was forbidden her, and no meane store having -beene lately brought to <i>Bajazeth</i> in a Barke of <i>Geneway</i>: hee resolved to -surprize her by meanes thereof, as a chiefe Minister of <i>Venus</i>, to heate -the coolest blood. And seeming now in his outward behaviour, as if he -had given over his amorous pursuite, and which she strove by all her best -endeavours to withstand: one night, after a very majestick and solemne -manner, he prepared a delicate and sumptuous supper, whereto the Lady -was invited: and hee had given order, that hee who attended on her -Cup, should serve her with many wines compounded and mingled together, -which hee accordingly performed, as being cunning enough in -such occasions.</p> - -<p><i>Alathiella</i>, mistrusting 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 adversities, -became very frollick and merry: so that seeing some women -daunce after the manner observed therein <i>Majorica</i>, she also fell to dauncing, -according to the <i>Alexandrian</i> custome. Which when <i>Bajazeth</i> beheld, -he imagined the victory to be more then halfe wone, and his hearts -desire very neere the obtaining: plying her still with wine upon wine, and -continuing this revelling the most part of the night. At the length, the -invited guests being all gone, the Lady retired then to her chamber, attended -on by none but <i>Bajazeth</i> himselfe, and as familiarly, as if hee had -beene one of her women, shee no way contradicting his bold intrusion, -so faire had wine over-gone her sences, and prevailed against all modest -bashfulnesse. These wanton embracings, strange to her that had never -tasted them before, yet pleasing beyond measure, by reason of his trecherous -advantage: 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 ever ought to attend on -Ladies.</p> - -<p>Now, Fortune envying 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 <i>Bajazeth</i> had a Brother, aged about five and -twenty yeares, of most compleate person, in the very beauty of his time, -and fresh as the sweetest smelling Rose, he being named <i>Amurath</i>. 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 -behaviour and civill apparancie, highly to deserve his very best -opinion, for she was not meanely entred into his favour. 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 <i>Bajazeth</i> kept -her: which raised a cruell conceit in his minde, whereon followed (not -long after) as cruell an effect.</p> - -<p>It came to passe, that at the same time, in the Port of the Citie, called -<i>Caffa</i>, there lay then a Ship laden with Merchandize, being bound thence -for <i>Smirna</i>, of which Ship two <i>Geneway</i> Merchants (being brethren) were -the Patrones and owners, who had given direction for hoysing the sayles, -to depart thence when the winde should serve. With these two <i>Genewayes -Amurath</i> had covenanted, for himselfe to goe abord the Ship the -night ensuing, and the Lady in his company. When night was come, -having resolved with himselfe what was to be done: in a disguised habite -hee went to the house of <i>Bajazeth</i>, 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 themselves closely in the house. -After some part of the night was over-past, hee knowing the severall -lodgings both of <i>Bajazeth</i> and <i>Alathiella</i>: 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 Jewels belonging to <i>Bajazeth</i>, unheard -or undescried by anybody, they went presently to the Port, and -there, without any further delay, <i>Amurath</i> and the Lady were received -into the Ship, but his companions returned backe againe; when the Mariners, -having their sayles ready set, and the winde aptly fitting for them, -launched forth merrily into the maine.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Amurath</i> did so -kindly comfort her, with milde, modest, and manly perswasions; that all -remembrance of <i>Bajazeth</i> was quickly forgotten, and shee became converted -to lovely demeanour, even when Fortune prepared a fresh misery -for her, as not satisfied with those whereof shee had tasted already. The -Lady being enriched with unequalled beauty (as wee have often related -before) her behaviour 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 carriage, that <i>Amurath</i> should neither see or suspect it.</p> - -<p>When the brethren had imparted their loves extremity each to the -other, and plainely perceived, that though they were equally in their -fiery torments, yet their desires were utterly contrary: they began severally -to consider, that gaine gotten by Merchandize, admitted an equall -and honest division, but this purchase was of a different quality, pleading -the title of a sole possession, without any partner or intruder. Fearefull -and jealous were they both, least either should ayme at the others intention, -yet willing enough to shake hands, in ridding <i>Amurath</i> 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 -<i>Amurath</i> was sitting upon the deck, studiously observing, 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 above halfe a leagues distance, -before any perceived his fall into the Sea.</p> - -<p>When the Lady heard thereof, and saw no likely meanes of recovering -him againe, she fell to her wonted teares and lamentations: but the -two Lovers came quickly to comfort her, using kinde words and pithie -perswasions (albeit shee understood them not, or at the most very little) to -appease the violence of her passions; and, to speake uprightly, shee did -not so much bemoane the loss of <i>Amurath</i>, as the multiplying of her -owne misfortunes, still one succeeding in the necke of another. After -divers long and well delivered Orations, as also very faire and courteous -behaviour, they had indifferently pacified her complaynings: they began -to discourse and commune with themselves, which of them had most -right and title to <i>Alathiella</i>, and (consequently) ought to enjoy her. Now -that <i>Amurath</i> was gone, each pleaded his priviledge to be as good as the -others, both in the Ship, goods, and all advantages else whatsoever happening: -which the elder brother absolutely denied, alleadging first his -propriety of birth, a reason sufficient, whereby his younger ought to give -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 justice -to be highest preferred. Last of all, that his strength onely threw <i>Amurath</i> -into the Sea, and therefore gave him the full possession of his -prize, no right at all remaining to his brother.</p> - -<p>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 receiving so many perilous -hurts, remained (neverthelesse) living. This unhappy 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 severity of punishment. But the earnest entreaties of the -wounded surviver, and their arrivall at <i>Smirna</i> soone after, delivered him -from the danger of death, gave some ease to her sorrow, and there with -him shee went on shore.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Ionia</i>, who lately before (on very urgent -occasions) was come to <i>Smirna</i>. 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, understanding -in what manner shee was brought thither, he devised 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 have inflicted on -her.</p> - -<p>The Prince perceiving, that beside her matchlesse beauty, shee had the -true character of royall behaviour; greeved 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 motive -to set a keener edge on his affection towards her, yet not to enjoy -her as in honourable and loving 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 private and publike conference in all <i>Natolia</i>, -that (welneere) there was no other discourse, in any Assembly whatsoever.</p> - -<p>Hereupon the Duke of <i>Athens</i>, being young, goodly, and valiant of -person, as also a neere Kinsman to the Prince, had a desire to see her; and -under colour of visiting his noble Kinsman, (as oftentimes before he had -done) attended with an honourable traine, to <i>Smirna</i> 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 Prince solliciting the Duke thereto very earnestly, they both -went together to see her; and shee having before heard of their comming, -adorned her selfe the more majestically, entertaining them with ceremonious -demeanor (after her Countries custome) which gave most -gracious and unspeakable acceptation.</p> - -<p>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 understood not any part of her language: so -that they could have no other conference, but by lookes and outward -signes onely; and the more they beheld her, the more they marvelled at -her rare perfections, especially the Duke, who hardly credited that shee -was a mortall creature. Thus not perceiving, 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 love (beyond all measure) with her. When the Prince -and he were parted from her, and hee was at his owne private amorous -meditations in his Chamber; he reputed the Prince far happier then any -man else whatsoever, by the enjoying of such a peerelesse beauty.</p> - -<p>After many intricate and distracted cogitations, which molested his -braines incessantly, regarding more his loves wanton heate, then reason, -kindred, and honourable hospitality; he resolutely determined (whatsoever -ensued thereupon) to bereave 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, justice, 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 <i>Churiacy</i>; he prepared his horses to be in readinesse, and dispatched -all his affaires else for a sudden departure. The night following, -he was secretly conveyed by the said <i>Churiacy</i>, 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. Having 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.</p> - -<p>Here you are to observe, that the Pallace was seated on the Sea shore, -and very high, and the window whereat the Prince then stood looking -foorth, was directly over divers 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 having 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 having thus executed what they -came for, proceeded yet in their cunning a little further; casting a strangling -coard about the necke of <i>Churiacy</i>, seeming as if they hugged and -embraced him: but drew it with so maine strength, that he never spake one -word after, and so threw him downe after the Prince.</p> - -<p>This done, and plainely perceiving 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 Majesty? Being no way daunted by his so late committed sinne, but -swimming rather in surfet of joy, his hands all bloody, and his soule much -more uglie; 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, -nor opening her eyes to be otherwise resolved. 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 having his agents at hand fit and -convenient 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 themselves had entred, laying her in a Princely litter; -away they went with all possible speede, not tarrying in any place, untill -they were arrived neere <i>Athens</i>. 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 -served in most honourable manner.</p> - -<p>The Gentlemen usually attending on the Prince, having 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 privately 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 relied 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 <i>Churiacy</i>: tooke hold of the corde about <i>Churiacyes</i> -necke, and so went along dragging it after him. The bodye being -knowne to many, with no meane mervaile, 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 majesticke pomp that might -bee.</p> - -<p>Upon further inquisition, who should commit so horrid a deed, perceyving -likewise, that the Duke of <i>Athens</i> was not to be found, but was -closely gone: they judged (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 Soveraigne, -inciting him to revenge so horrid a wrong, and promising to assist -him with their utmost 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 neighbours, kindred, and friends, collected -from divers places; he mustred a goodly and powerful army, marching -on towards <i>Athens</i>, to make war against the Duke.</p> - -<p>No sooner heard he of this warlike preparation made against him, but -he likewise levied forces for his owne defence, and to his succour came -many great States: among whom, the Emperor of <i>Constantinople</i> sent his -Sonne <i>Constantine</i>, attended on by his Nephew <i>Emanuell</i>, with troopes -of faire and towardly force, who were most honourably welcommed -and entertained by the Duke, but much more by the Dutchesse, because -she was their sister in law.</p> - -<p>Military provision thus proceeding on daily more and more, the Dutches -making choise of a fit and convenient 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 thereof, -and complaining very earnestly unto them, entreated that for the -Dukes honour, and her comfort, they would give their best assistance in -this case.</p> - -<p>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 leave, and parted from her. Often they had heard the Lady -much commended, and her incomparable beauty highly extolled, yea, -even by the Duke himselfe; which made them the more desirous to see -her: wherefore earnestly they solicited him, to let them have a sight of her, -and he (forgetting what happened to the Prince, by shewing her so unadvisedly -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 small train, -away they rode to dine with her.</p> - -<p><i>Constantine</i> being seated at the Table, he began (as one confounded -with admiration) to observe her judiciously, affirming secretly to his soule -that he had never seene so compleat a woman before; and allowing it for -justice, that the Duke, or any other whosoever, if (to enjoy 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 upon -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 utterly abandoned; no other thoughts could come neerer him, but -how to bereave the Duke of her, yet concealing his love, and not imparting -it to any one.</p> - -<p>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: wherefore the Duke <i>Constantine</i> 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 divers dayes together, <i>Constantine</i>, who could thinke on nothing -else, but the beautifull Lady, considered with himselfe, that while the Duke -was now so far off from her, it was an easie matter to compasse his intent: -hereupon, the better to colour his present returne to <i>Athens</i>, he seemed -to be surprized with a sudden extreame sicknesse, in regard whereof (by -the Dukes free lisence, and leaving all his power to his Cousen <i>Emanuel</i>) -forthwith he journeyed backe to <i>Athens</i>. After some conference had with -his sister, concerning her dishonourable 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 never more afterward, to be seene in that Countrey any more.</p> - -<p>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 provided, that it might be performed -in such sort, as the Duke her Husband should never understand, that ever -shee gave any consent thereto, which <i>Constantine</i> sware unto her by many -deep oathes, whereby she referred all to his owne disposition. <i>Constantine</i> -hereupon secretly prepared in readinesse a subtill Barke, sending it -(in an evening) neere to the garden where the Lady resorted; having 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.</p> - -<p>Leading her along by the arme towards the Garden, attended on by -two of her servants, 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, upon a signe given by him to one of -his complices, the Barke was brought close to the shore, and the Lady -being suddenly seized on, was immediately conveyed into it; and he returning -backe to her people, with his sword drawne in his hand, saide: -Let no man stirre, 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 <i>Constantine</i> 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 arrived at <i>Melasso</i>. -There they tooke landing, and reposed on shore for some few dayes, <i>Constantine</i> -labouring to comfort the Lady, even as if shee had been his owne -Sister, shee having good cause to curse her infortunate beauty.</p> - -<p>Going aboard the Barke againe, within few dayes they came to <i>Setalia</i>, -and there fearing the reprehension of his Father, and least the Ladie -should be taken from him; it pleased <i>Constantine</i> to make his stay, as in a -place of no meane security. And (as before) after much kinde behaviour -used 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 jot quaile her.</p> - -<p>While occurrences passed on in this manner, it fortuned, that <i>Osbech</i> -the King of <i>Turky</i> (who was in continuall war with the Emperour) came -by accident to <i>Laiazzo</i>: and hearing there how lasciviously <i>Constantine</i> -spent his time in <i>Setalia</i>, with a Lady which he had stolne, being but weake -and slenderly guarded; in the night with certaine well provided ships, his -men & he entred the Towne, & surprized many people in their beds, before -they knew of their enemies comming, killing such as stood upon their -defence against them, (among whom was <i>Constantine</i>) and burning -the whole Towne, brought their booty and prisoners aboard their ships, -wherewith they returned backe to <i>Laiazzo</i>. Being thus come to <i>Laiazzo, -Osbech</i>, who was a brave and gallant young man, upon a review of the -pillage; found the faire Lady, whom hee knew to be the beloved of <i>Constantine</i>, -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 lived there in great joy -with her.</p> - -<p>But before occasions grew to this effect, the Emperour made a confederacy -with <i>Bassano</i>, King of <i>Cappadocia</i>, that hee should descend with -his forces; one way upon <i>Osbech</i>, and hee would assault him with his -power on the other. But he could not so conveniently bring this to passe, -because the Emperour would not yeeld to <i>Bassano</i>, in any unreasonable -matter he demanded. Neverthelesse, when he understood what had happened -to his Son (for whom his griefe was beyond all measure) he granted -the King of <i>Cappadociaes</i> request, solliciting him with all instancy, to be -the more speedy in assailing <i>Osbech</i>. It was not long, before hee heard of -this conjuration made against him; and therefore speedily mustered up all -his forces, ere he would be encompassed by two such potent Kings, and -marched on to meete the King of <i>Cappadocia</i>, leaving his Lady and Wife, -(for her safety) at <i>Laiazzo</i>, in the custodie of a true and loyall servant of -his.</p> - -<p>Within a short while after, he drew neere the Campe belonging to the -King of <i>Cappadocia</i>, where boldly he gave him battell; chancing therein to -be slaine, his Army broken and discomfited, by meanes whereof the King -of <i>Cappadocia</i> remaining Conquerour, marched on towards <i>Laiazzo</i>, -every one yeelding him obeysance all the way as he went. In the meane -space, the servant to <i>Osbech</i>, who was named <i>Antiochus</i>, and with whom -the faire Lady was left in guard; although hee was aged, yet seeing shee -was so extraordinarily beautifull, he fell in love 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 understood and could speake her -language, a matter of no meane comfort to her; who constrainedly had -lived divers yeeres together, in the state of a deafe or dumbe woman, because -every where else they understood her not, nor shee them, but by -shewes and signes.</p> - -<p>This benefit of familiar conference, beganne to embolden his hopes, -elevate his courage, and make him seeme more youthfull in his owne opinion, -then any ability of body could speake unto him, or promise him -in the possession of her, who was so farre beyond him, and so unequall to -be enjoyed by him; yet to advance his hopes a great deale higher, newes -came, that <i>Osbech</i> was vanquished and slaine, and that <i>Bassano</i> made everie -where havocke of all: whereon they concluded together, not to tarrie -there any longer, but storing themselves with the goods of <i>Osbech</i>, secretly -they departed thence to <i>Rhodes</i>. Being seated there in some indifferent -abiding, it came to passe, that <i>Antiochus</i> fell into a deadly sicknesse, to -whom came a <i>Cyprian</i> 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 upon -him dayly, hee determined, not onely to leave 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 unto them in this manner.</p> - -<p>Deare Love, and my most worthily respected friend, I perceive plainly -and infallibly, that I am drawing neere unto my end, which much discontenteth -me; because my hope was, to have lived longer in this world, -for the enjoying 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 ever dearest friend, and you faire Lady, whom -(since the very first sight of you) I loved and honoured in my soule. Irksome -and very grievous it is to me, that (if I dye) I shall leave you here a -stranger, without the counsaile and helpe of any body: and yet much -more offensive would it become, if I had not such a friend as you here -present, who I am faithfully perswaded, will have the like care and respect -of her (even for my sake) as of myselfe, 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 providence, 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 -ever Nature framed. If of these two things you will give me assurance; I -shall depart from you with no meane comfort.</p> - -<p>The friendly Merchant, and likewise the Lady, hearing these words, -wept both bitterly, and after hee had given over 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 gave him very honourable buriall, -according to that Country custome. Which being done, the Merchant -dispatching all his affaires at <i>Rhodes</i>, was desirous to returne home -to <i>Cyprus</i>, in a Carrack of the Catelans then there being: moving the -Lady in the matter, to understand how shee stood enclined, because urgent -occasions called him thence to <i>Cyprus</i>. The Lady made answere, -that she was willing to passe thither with him, hoping for the love hee -bare to deceased <i>Antiochus</i>, that he would respect her as his Sister. The -Merchant was willing to give her any contentment, but yet resolved her, -that under the title of being his Sister, it would be no warrant of security -to them both; wherefore hee rather advised 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 injuries whatsoever.</p> - -<p>Being abord the Carrack, they had a Cabine and small bed conveniently -allowed them, where they slept together, that they might the better -be reputed as man and wife; for, to passe otherwise, would have beene -very dangerous to them both. And questionlesse, their faithfull promise -made at <i>Rhodes</i> to <i>Antiochus</i>, sicknesse on the Sea, and mutuall respect -they had of each others credit, was a constant restraint to all wanton desires, -and a motive rather to incite chastity, then otherwise, and so (I -hope) you are perswaded of them. But howsoever, the windes blewe -merrily, the Carrack sayled lustily, and (by this time) they are arrived at -<i>Baffa</i>, where the <i>Cyprian</i> Merchant dwelt, and where shee continued a -long while with him, no one knowing otherwise, but that shee was his -wife indeede.</p> - -<p>Now it fortuned, that there arrived also at the same <i>Baffa</i> (about some -especiall occasions of his) a Gentleman, whose name was <i>Antigonus</i>, well -stept into yeares, and better stored with wisedome then wealth: because -by medling in many matters, while hee followed the service of the King -of <i>Cyprus</i>, Fortune had beene very adverse 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 <i>Armenia</i>: hee chanced to see -the Lady at a window of the house, and because shee was very beautifull, -he observed her the more advisedly, 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 conceive (upon the very first sight of <i>Antigonus</i>) that -she had formerly seene him in <i>Alexandria</i>, serving her Father in place of -great degree. Hereupon, a suddaine hope perswaded her, that by the -advice and furtherance of this Gentleman, she should recover her wonted -Royall condition: and opportunity now aptly fitting her, by the absence -of her pretended Merchant husband, she sent for him, requesting -to have a few words with him.</p> - -<p>When he was come into the house, she bashfully demanded of him, if -he was not named <i>Antigonus</i> of <i>Famagosta</i>, because shee knew one (like -him) so called? Hee answered, that he was so named, saying moreover: -Madame, me thinkes that I should know you, but I cannot remember -where I have 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 perceiving him to be the man indeede, -weeping incessantly, she threw her armes about his necke, and soone after -asked <i>Antigonus</i> (who stood as one confounded with mervaile) if hee -had never seene her in <i>Alexandria</i>? Upon these words, <i>Antigonus</i> knew her -immediatly to be <i>Alathiella</i>, daughter to the great Soldane, who was supposed -(long since) to be drowned in the Sea: and offering to doe her -such reverence 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.</p> - -<p>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 beleeved 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 have done; and I thinke my Father himselfe would wish it so, if -ever he should come to the knowledge thereof. With these words the -teares rained downe her faire cheekes: wherefore <i>Antigonus</i> thus spake -unto her. Madame, discomfort not your selfe before you have 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 give you such friendly -advice as may stand you in sted, and no way be injurious to you.</p> - -<p>Fetching a sigh, even as if her heart would have split in sunder, thus -she replyed. Ah <i>Antigonus</i>, me thinkes when I looke on thee, I seeme -to behold my royall Father, and therefore mooved with the like religious -zeale and charitable love, as (in duty) I owe unto him: I will make -knowne to thee, what I rather ought to conceale, and hide from any person -living. I know thee to bee honourable, discreete, and truely wise, -though I am a fraile, simple, and weake woman, therefore I dare discover -to thee, rather then any other that I know, by what straunge and unexpected -misfortunes, I have lived so long obscurely in the world. And -if in thy great and grave judgement (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 perceive it impossible to bee done, as earnestly likewise I entreate -thee, never to reveale to any living 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, even from her shipwracke in the Sea of <i>Majorica</i>, until that -very instant houre; speaking them in such harsh manner as they hapned, -and not sparing any jot of them.</p> - -<p><i>Antigonus</i> being mooved to much compassion, declared how hee pitied -her by his teares, and having bene silent an indifferent while, as considering -in this case, what was best to be done, thus he began. Madam, -seeing you have past through such a multitude of misfortunes, yet undiscovered, -what and who you are: I will render you as blamelesse to your -Father, and estate you as fairely in his love, as at the hour when you parted -from him, and afterward make you wife to the King of <i>Cholcos</i>. 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.</p> - -<p>To cut off further tedious circumstances, forthwith he returned to <i>Famagosta</i>, -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 -honour, who have bene impoverished by your service, and also a deed of -great renowne to your selfe, without any much matter of expence and -cost. The King demanding how? <i>Antigonus</i> thus answered. The fayre -daughter of the Soldane, so generally reported to be drowned, is arrived -at <i>Baffa</i>, and to preserve 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 under my -conduct, it will be great honour to you, and no meane benefite to mee; -which kindnesse will for ever be thankfully remembred by the Soldan.</p> - -<p>The King in royall magnificence, replied sodainly, that he was highly -pleased with these good tydings; & having sent honourably for her from -<i>Baffa</i>, with great pompe she was conducted to <i>Famagosta</i>, and there most -graciously welcommed both by the King and Queene, with solemne triumphes, -bankets, and revelling, performed in most Majesticke manner. -Being questioned by the King and Queene, concerning so large a time -of strange misfortunes: according as <i>Antigonus</i> had formerly enstructed -her, so did she shape the forme of her answers, and satisfied (with honour) -all their demands. So, within few dayes after, upon her earnest & instant -request, with an honourable traine of Lords and Ladies, shee was sent -thence, and conducted all the way by <i>Antigonus</i>, untill she came unto the -Soldans Court.</p> - -<p>After some few dayes of her reposing there, the Soldan was desirous -to understand, how she could possibly live so long, in any Kingdome or -Province whatsoever, 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 <i>Antigonus</i> had given her, answered -her father in this manner. Sir, about the twentith day after my -departure from you, a verie terrible and dreadfull tempest over-tooke us, -so that in dead time of the night, our ship being split in sunder upon the -sands, neere to a place called <i>Varna</i>; what became of all the men that -were aboord, I neither know, or ever heard of. Onely I remember, then -when death appeared, and I being recovered 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.</p> - -<p>No sooner were we there, but certaine rude shagge-haird villaines set -upon us, 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 used me, rescued me from them, and forced them to flight. -But the foure horsemen, seeming (in my judgement) to bee persons of -power and authority, letting them go, came to mee, urging sundry questions -to me, which neither I understood, or they mine answers. After -many deliberations held among themselves, setting me upon one of their -horses, they brought me to a Monastery of religious women, according -to the custome of their law: and there, whatsoever they did or sayde, I -know not, but I was most benignely welcommed thither, and honoured -of them extraordinarily, where (with them in devotion) I dedicated my -selfe to the Goddesse of chastity, who is highly reverenced and regarded -among the women of that Countrey, and to her religious service, they -are wholly addicted.</p> - -<p>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 gave -me so much understanding, 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 urged) that I was -daughter to a Gentleman of <i>Cyprus</i>, who sent me to bee married in <i>Candie</i>; -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 observe their customes.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Cyprus</i>. I answerd, that I desired nothing more. -But she, being very carefull of mine honour, would never repose confidence -in any that came for <i>Cyprus</i>; till two honest Gentlemen of <i>France</i>, -who hapned thither about two moneths since, accompanied with their -wives, one of them being a neere kinswoman to the Lady Abbesse. And -she well knowing, that they travelled in pilgrimage to <i>Jerusalem</i>, to visit -the holy Sepulcher, where (as they beleeve) that he whom they held for -their God was buried, after the Jewes had put him to death: recommended -me to their loving trust, with especial charge, for delivering me -to my Father in <i>Cyprus</i>. What honourable love and respect I found in -the company of those Gentlemen and their wives, during our voyage -backe to <i>Cyprus</i>: the history would be over-tedious in reporting, neither -is it much material to our purpose, because your demand is to another -end.</p> - -<p>Sayling on prosperously in our Ship, it was not long, before wee arrived -at <i>Baffa</i>, where being landed, and not knowing any person, neither -what I should say to the Gentlemen, who onely were carefull for delivering -me to my Father, according as they were charged by the reverend -Abbesse: it was the will of heaven doubtlesse (in pitty and compassion of -my passed disasters) that I was no sooner come on shore at <i>Baffa</i>: but I -should there haply meete with <i>Antigonus</i>, whome I called unto in our -countrey Language, because I would not be understood by the Gentlemen -nor their wives, 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 wives, conducting me to the K. of <i>Cyprus</i>, who -received 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, <i>Antigonus</i> who -hath oft heard the whole story of my fortunes, at better leisure will report.</p> - -<p><i>Antigonus</i> then turning to the Soldan, said: My Lord, as shee hath often -told me, and by relation both of the Gentlemen and their wives, she -hath delivered nothing but trueth. Onely shee hath forgotten somewhat -worth the speaking, as thinking it not fit for her to utter, because -(indeede) it is not so convenient for her. Namely, how much the Gentlemen -and their wives (with whom she came) commended the rare honesty -and integrity of life, as also the unspotted vertue, wherein she lived, -among those chaste Religious women, as they constantly (both with -teares and solemne protestations) avouched 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 have said so much, as (both -by the reports, and mine owne understanding) may give you faithfull -assurance, to make your Royall vaunt; of having the fayrest, most -vertuous, and honest Lady to your Daughter, of any King or Prince -whatsoever.</p> - -<p>The Soldane was joyfull beyond all measure, welcomming both him -and the rest in most stately manner, oftentimes entreating the Gods very -heartily, that he might live to requite them with equall recompence, who -had so graciously honoured his daughter: but (above all the rest) the King -of <i>Cyprus</i>, who sent her home so majestically. And having bestowne -great gifts on <i>Antigonus</i>, within a few dayes after, hee gave him leave to -returne to <i>Cyprus</i>: with thankfull favours to the King as well by Letters, -as also by Ambassadours espresly sent, both from himselfe and his -daughter.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Cholcos</i>: he gave him intelligence of all that -had happened, writing moreover to him, that (if he were so pleased) hee -would yet send her in Royall manner to him. The King of <i>Cholcos</i> was -exceeding joyfull of these glad tydings, and dispatching a worthy trayne -to fetch her, she was convayed thither very pompously, and she who had -beene embraced by so many, was received by him as an honest virgine, -living long time after with him in much joy and felicity. And therefore, -it hath beene said as a common Proverbe: The mouth well kist comes -not short of good fortune, but is still renewed like the Moone.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="The_Count_DAngiers_being_falsly_accused_was_banished_out_of_France_left" id="The_Count_DAngiers_being_falsly_accused_was_banished_out_of_France_left"><i>The Count</i> D'Angiers <i>being falsly accused, was banished out of</i> France, <i>& left -his two children in</i> England <i>in divers places. Returning afterward (unknowne) -thorow</i> Scotland, <i>hee found them advanced unto great dignity. -Then, repayring in the habite of a Servitour, into the King of</i> France <i>his -Armie, and his innocencie made publiquely knowne; hee was reseated in his -former honourable degree.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The eight Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Whereby all men may plainely understand, that loyalty faithfully kept to the -Prince (what perils so ever doe ensue) doth yet neverthelesse renowne a man, -and bring him to farre greater honour.</i></h4> - - -<p>The Ladies sighed very often, hearing the variety of wofull miseries -happening to <i>Alathiella</i>: but who knoweth, what occasion moved -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 leaving that to their -owne construction, they smiled merrily at the last speeches of <i>Pamphilus</i>, -and the Queene perceiving the Novell to be ended: shee fixed her eye -upon Madame <i>Eliza</i>, as signifying thereby, that she was next to succeede -in order, which shee joyfully embracing, spake as followeth. The field is -very large and spacious, wherein all this day we have walked, and there is -not any one here, so wearied with running the former races, but nimbly -would adventure 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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>France</i> and one of his sonnes, having congregated the forces -of their owne dominions, as also of their friends and confederates, they -resolved manfully to encounter their enemies. But before they would -adventure on any rash proceeding; they held it as the chiefest part of -pollicie and Royall providence, not to leave the State without a chiefe -or Governour. And having had good experience of <i>Gualtier</i>, Counte -<i>D'Angiers</i>, 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 travaile:) hee was -elected Lieutenant Governour in their sted, over the whole Kingdome -of <i>France</i>, and then they went on in their enterprize.</p> - -<p>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 under his care and custodie, yet (notwithstanding) -he honoured them as his superiours, and as the dignity of -their quality required. Heere you are to observe, concerning Counte -<i>Gualtier</i> himselfe, that he was a most compleat person, aged little above -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 <i>Gualtier</i> died in -the meane while, leaving him onely a sonne and a daughter, very young -and of tender yeares, which made his owne home the lesse welcome to -him, having lost his deare Love and second selfe.</p> - -<p>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 upon him, convaying such conspiring -passions to her heart (in regard of his person and vertues) that her -love exceeded all capacity of governement. Her desires out-stepping all -compasse of modesty, or the dignity of her Princely condition; throwes -off all regard of civill and sober thoughts, and guides her into a Labyrinth -of wanton imaginations. For, she regards not now the eminencie -of his high authority, his gravity of yeares, and those parts that are the -true conducts to honour: but lookes upon her owne loose and lascivious -appetite, her young, gallant, and over-ready yeelding nature, comparing -them with his want of a wife, and likely hope (thereby) of her sooner -prevailing; supposing, that nothing could be her hinderance, but onely -bashfull shame-facednesse, which she rather chose utterly to forsake and -set aside, then to faile of her hote enflamed affection, and therefore, shee -would needes be the discoverer of her owne disgrace.</p> - -<p>Upon a day, being alone by her selfe, and the time seeming suteable -to her intention: shee sent for the Counte, under colour of some other -important conference with him. The Counte <i>D'Angiers</i>, 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, upon -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 up into her face, yet shame -enforcing teares from her eyes, with words broken and halfe confused, at -last she began to deliver her minde in this manner.</p> - -<p>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 divers occasions) -much more upon the one, then the other. Wherefore desertfully, -in the censure of a just and upright Judge, a fault of divers 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, having no other helpe for maintainance, but labourious -travaile of their bodies should worthily receive more sharpe reprehension, -in yeelding to amorous desires, or such passions as are incited by -love; then a wealthy Lady whose living relieth not on her paines or cares, -neither wanteth any thing that she can wish to have: I dare presume, that -you your selfe will allow this to be equall and just. In which respect, I am -of the minde, that the fore-named allegations, ought to serve as a sufficient -excuse, yea, and to the advantage of her who is so possessed, if the -passions of love should over-reach her: alwayes provided, 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 servile or vile election.</p> - -<p>These two especiall observations, allowable in my judgement, and living -now in me, seazing on my youthfull blood and yeares: have found -no mean inducement to love, in regard of my husbands far distance from -me, medling in the rude uncivill actions of warre, when he should rather -be at home in more sweet imployment. You see Sir, that these Orators -advance themselves here in your presence, to acquaint you with the extremity -of my over-commanding agony: and if the same power hath dominion -in you, which your discretion (questionlesse) cannot be voide of; -then let me entreate such advise from you, as may rather helpe, then hinder -my hopes. Beleeve 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: have so prevailed against my strongest resistances, that not onely -so weake a woman as I am, but any man of much more potent might -(living in ease and idlenesse as I doe) cannot withstand such continuall assaults, -having no other helpe then flesh and blood.</p> - -<p>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 Love highly favourable to mee, by guiding my -judgement with such moderation, to make election of a wise, worthy, -and honourable friend, fit to enjoy the grace of a farre greater Lady then -I am, and the first letter of his name, is the Count <i>D'Angiers</i>. For if error -have not misled mine eye, as in Love no Lady can be easily deceived: -for person, perfections, and all parts most to be commended in a -man, the whole Realme of <i>France</i> containeth not your equall. Observe -beside, how forward Fortune sheweth her selfe to us 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 unfaigned affection I beare you, and compassion, -which you ought to have of Royall Princesse, even almost sicke to death -for your sake: I earnestly entreate you, not to denie me your loving society, -but pittying my youth and fiery afflictions (never to be quenched -but by your kindnesse) I may enjoy my hearts desire.</p> - -<p>As shee uttered these words, the teares streamed aboundantly downe -her faire cheekes, preventing her of any further speech: so that dejecting -her head into her bosome, overcome with the predominance of -her passions; shee fell upon the Countes knee, whereas else shee had -falne upon the ground. When hee, like a loyall and most honourable -man, sharply reprehended her fonde and idle love, and when shee -would have embraced him about the necke; hee repulsed her roughly -from him, protesting upon his honourable reputation, that rather -then hee would so wrong his Lord and Maister, he would endure a thousand -deathes.</p> - -<p>The Lady seeing her desire disappointed, and her fond expectation -utterly frustrated: grewe instantly forgetfull of her intemperate love, -and falling into extremity of rage, converted 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 unkindnesse, -and all my hoped joyes be defeated in a moment? Know slave, -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 -<i>D'Angiers</i> will forcibly dishonour mee, the lustfull Count will violence -mine honour.</p> - -<p><i>D'Angiers</i> seeing this, and fearing more the malice of the over-credulous -Court, then either his owne conscience, or any dishonourable -act by him committed, beleeving likewise, that her slanderous accusation -would bee credited, above his true and spotlesse innocency: closely -he conveyed himselfe out of the Court, making what hast hee could, -home to his owne house, which being too weake for warranting his safety -upon such pursuite as would be used against him, without any further -advice or counsell, he seated his two children on horsebacke, himselfe also -being but meanly mounted, thus away thence hee went to <i>Calice</i>.</p> - -<p>Upon the clamour and noise of the Lady, the Courtiers quickly flocked -thither; and, as lies soone winne beleefe in hasty opinions, upon any -silly or shallow surmise: so did her accusation passe for currant, and the -Counts advancement being envied 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 used 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 severe condemnation, -all his progeny being sentenced with perpetuall exile, and -promises of great and bountifull rewards, to such as could bring his body -alive or dead.</p> - -<p>Thus the innocent Count, by his over-hasty and sodaine flight, made -himselfe guilty of this foule imputation: and arriving at <i>Callice</i> with his -children, their poore and homely habites, hid them from being knowne, -and thence they crossed over into England, staying no where untill hee -came to London. Before he would enter into the City, he gave divers -good advertisements to his children, but especially two precepts above -all the rest. First, with patient soules to support the poore condition, -whereto Fortune (without any offence in him or them) had thus dejected -them. Next, that they should have 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 lives. His Sonne, being named <i>Lewes</i>, and -now about nine yeares old, his daughter called <i>Violenta</i>, and aged seaven -yeares, did both observe their fathers direction, as afterward it did -sufficiently appeare. And because they might live in the safer securitie, -hee thought it for the best to change their names, calling his sonne -<i>Perotto</i>, and his daughter <i>Gianetta</i>, for thus they might best escape unknowne.</p> - -<p>Being entred into the Citty, and in the poore estate of beggers, they -craved every bodies mercy and almes. It came to passe, that standing -one morning at the Cathedrall Church-doore, a great Lady of England, -being then wife to the Lord high Marshall, comming 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 <i>Picardy</i>, and for an unhappy -fact committed by his eldest sonne (a stripling of more hopefull -expectation, then proved) hee was enforced, with those his two other -children to forsake his country. The Lady being by nature very pittiful, -looking advisedly 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 proove answerable to hir outward -goods parts: if therefore thou canst bee content to leave her with -me, I will give her entertainment, and upon her dutifull carriage and behaviour, -if she live to such yeares as may require it, I will have 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 delivered his prettie -daughter to the Lady.</p> - -<p>Shee being thus happily bestowne, hee minded to tarry no longer in -<i>London</i>; but, in his wonted begging manner, travailing thorough the -Country with his sonne <i>Perotto</i>, at length hee came into <i>Wales</i>: but not -without much weary paine and travell, being never used before, to journey -so far on foote. There dwelt another Lord, in office of Marshalship -to the King of <i>England</i>, whose power extended over those partes; a man -of very great authority, keeping a most noble and bountifull house, which -they termed the <i>President of Wales his Court</i>; 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 divers other Gentlemens -children, were performing certaine youthfull sports & pastimes, -as running, leaping, and such like, wherein <i>Perotto</i> presumed to make -one among them, excelling all the rest in such commendable manner, as -none of them came any thing nere him. Divers times the President had -taken notice thereof, and was so well pleased with the Lads behaviour, -that he enquired, of whence he was? Answer was made, that hee was a poore -mans son, that every day came for an almes to his gate.</p> - -<p>The President being desirous to make the boy his, the Count (whose -dayly prayers were to the same purpose) frankly gave his son to the Nobleman: -albeit naturall and fatherly affection, urged some unwillingnesse -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 under good and woorthie government: -the Count would continue no longer in <i>England</i>: but, as best -he could procure the meanes, passed over into <i>Ireland</i>, and being arrived -at a place called <i>Stanford</i>, became servant to an Earle of that Country, a -Gentleman professing Armes, on whom he attended as a serving man, & -lived a long while in that estate very painfully.</p> - -<p>His daughter <i>Violenta</i>, clouded under the borrowed name of <i>Gianetta</i>, -dwelling with the Lady at <i>London</i>, grew so in yeares, beauty, comelinesse -of person, and was so gracefull in the favour of her Lord and Lady, yea, -of every one in the house beside, that it was wonderfull to behold. Such -as but observed her usuall carriage, and what modesty shined clearely in -her eyes, reputed her well worthy of honourable preferment; in which -regard, the Lady that had received 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 deserved. -But God, the just rewarder of all good endeavours, 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.</p> - -<p>The noble Lady, with whom poore <i>Gianetta</i> 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 every way answerable to his outward behaviour, exceeding -<i>Gianetta</i> about sixe yeeres in age. Hee perceiving 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 love concealed from his -Parents, not daring to desire her in marriage: for loth hee was to loose -their favour, by disclosing the vehemency of his afflictions, which proved -a greater torment to him, then if it had beene openly knowne.</p> - -<p>It came to passe, that love over-awed him in such sort, as he fell into a -violent sicknesse, and score of Physicions were sent for, to save him from -death, if possibly it might be. Their judgements observing the course of -his sicknesse, yet not reaching to the cause of the disease, made a doubtfull -question of his recovery; which was so displeasing to his parents, that -their griefe and sorrow grew beyond measure. Many earnest entreaties -they moved 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.</p> - -<p>It chanced on a day, a Physicion was brought unto him, being young -in yeeres, but well experienced in his practise, and as hee made triall of -his pulse, <i>Gianetta</i> (who by his Mothers command, attended on him very -diligently) upon some especial occasion entred into the Chamber, which -when the young Gentleman perceived, 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 observation, to note how long that fit -would continue. No sooner was <i>Gianetta</i> gone forth of the Chamber, -but the pulse immediately gave over beating, which perswaded the Physicion, -that some part of the disease had now discovered it selfe apparantly.</p> - -<p>Within a while after, pretending to have some speech with <i>Gianetta</i>, -and holding the Gentleman still by the arme, the Physicion caused her to -be sent for, and immediately shee came. Upon 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 <i>Gianetta</i>; for manifest signes have made it knowne to me, and -he loveth the Damosell very dearely: yet (for ought I can perceive, the -Maide doth not know it) now if you have 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 preserve -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 <i>Gianetta</i>.</p> - -<p>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 enjoying 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 soever, but it should have beene provided 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 Heaven hath been more mercifull to thee, then thou wouldest -be to thy selfe or us. And to prevent 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 love, and why shouldst thou shame to manifest as much, it being -so apt and convenient for thy youth? For if I were perswaded, that thou -couldst not love, I should make the lesse esteeme of thee. Therefore deare -Sonne, be not dismayed, but freely discover thine affections. Expel those -disastrous drouping thoughts, that have 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 love thee as dearely as mine owne life. -Set therefore aside this nice conceit of shame and feare, revealing the -truth boldly to me, if I may stead thee in thy love; resolving thy selfe unfaignedly, -that if my care stretch not to compasse thy content, account me -for the most cruell Mother living, and utterly unworthy of such a Sonne.</p> - -<p>The young Gentleman having 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 loves so strict concealement, -but an especiall error, which I finde by daily proofe in many, who -being growne to yeeres of grave discretion, doe never remember, -that they themselves have bin yong. But because heerein I find you to be -both discreet and wise, I will not onely affirme, what you have seen in me -to be true, but also will confesse, to whom it is: upon condition, that the -effect of your promise may follow it, according to the power remaining -in you, whereby you onely may secure my life.</p> - -<p>His Mother, desirous to bee resolved, whether his confession would -agree with the Physitians words, or no, and reserving another intention -to her selfe: bad him feare nothing, but freely discover his whole desire, -and forthwith she doubted not to effect it. Then Madame (quoth hee) -the matchlesse beauty, and commendable qualities of your maid <i>Gianetta</i>, -to whom (as yet) I have made no motion, to commisserate this my -languishing extremity, nor acquainted any living creature with my love: -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 enjoying of my longing desires, assure -your selfe (most noble Mother) that the date of my life is very short.</p> - -<p>The Lady well knowing, that the time now rather required kindest -comfort, then any severe 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 joy and comfort, disposing her selfe daily to proove, -how in honour she might keepe promise with her Son.</p> - -<p>Within a short while after, calling <i>Gianetta</i> privately to her, in gentle -manner, and by the way of pleasant discourse, she demanded of her, whither -she was provided of a Lover, or no. <i>Gianetta</i>, being never acquainted -with any such questions, a scarlet Dye covering all her modest countenance, -thus replied. Madam, I have no neede of any Lover, and very -unseemly were it, for so poore a Damosell as I am, to have so much as a -thought of Lovers: being banished from my friends and kinsfolke, and -remaining in service as I do.</p> - -<p>If you have 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 unfit, that so faire a Maid as you are, should remaine -destitute of a lover. Madam, sayde <i>Gianetta</i>, considering with my -selfe, that since you received me of my poore Father, you have used me -rather like your daughter, then a servant; it becommeth mee to doe as -pleaseth you. Notwithstanding, I trust (in the regard of mine own good -and honour) never to use any complaint in such a case: but if you please -to bestow a husband on me, I purpose to love 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 live.</p> - -<p>These words were of a quite contrary complexion, to those which -the Lady expected from her, and for effecting the promise made unto hir -Sonne: howbeit (like a wise and noble Lady) much shee inwardly commended -the maids answers, and saide unto her. But tell me <i>Gianetta</i>, 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 love, would ye denie -him? Sodainly the Maide returned this answer; Madam, the King (perhaps) -might enforce me; but with my free consent, hee shall never have -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 project in proofe, saying to her son, that when -he was fully recovered, he should have private accesse to <i>Gianetta</i>, whom -shee doubted not but would be tractable enough to him; for she held it -no meane blemish to her honour, to moove the Maide any more in the -matter, but let him compasse it as he could.</p> - -<p>Farre from the yong Gentlemans humour was this answer of his Mother, -because he aimed not at any dishonourable end: true, faithfull, & -honest love was the sole scope of his intention, foule and loathsome lust -he utterly defied; whereupon, he fell into sickenesse againe, rather more -violently then before. Which the Lady perceiving, revealed her whole -intent to <i>Gianetta</i>, 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 enjoy her in honourable -marriage: accounting it better, for preservation 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 love.</p> - -<p>After great consultation with kindred and friendes, the match was agreed -upon, to the no little joy of <i>Gianetta</i>, who devoutly returned infinite -thankes to heaven, for so mercifully respecting her dejected poore -estate, after the bitter passage of so many miseries, and never tearming -her selfe any otherwise, but the daughter of a poore <i>Piccard</i>. Soone was -the yong Gentleman recovered and married, no man alive so well contented -as he, and setting downe an absolute determination, to lead a loving -life with his <i>Gianetta</i>.</p> - -<p>Let us now convert our lookes to <i>Wales</i>, to <i>Perotto</i>; 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 was -most comely of person, and addicted to all valiant attempts: so that in -Tourneyes, Justes, and other actions of Armes, his like was not to bee -found in all the Island, being named onely <i>Perotto</i> the valiant <i>Piccard</i>, 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 -Province became dispeopled and desolate.</p> - -<p>In the time of this plague and dreadful visitation, the Lord President, -his Lady, Sonnes, Daughters, Brothers, Nephewes, and Kindred dyed, -none remaining alive, but one onely Daughter marriageable, a few of -the houshold servants, beside <i>Perotto</i>, 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 <i>England</i>, understanding that his President of <i>Wales</i> was -dead, and fame liberally relating, the vertues, valour, and good parts of -<i>Perotto</i> 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 <i>D'Angiers</i>, after they were left by him as lost and forlorne.</p> - -<p>Eighteene yeares were now fully over-past, since the Count <i>D'Angiers</i> -fled from <i>Paris</i>, having suffered (in miserable sort) many hard and -lamentable adversities, and seeing himselfe now to be growne aged, hee -was desirous to leave Ireland, and to know (if hee might) what was become -of both his children. Hereupon, perceiving his wonted forme -to be so altered, that such as formerly had conversed most with him, -could now not take any knowledge of him, & feeling his body (through -long labour and exercise endured in service) more lusty, then in his idle -youthfull yeares, especially when he left the Court of <i>France</i>, hee purposed -to proceede in his determination. Being very poore and simple in -apparell, hee departed from the Irish Earle his Maister, with whom hee -had continued long in service, to no advantage or advancement, and -crossing over into <i>England</i>, travailed to the place in <i>Wales</i>, where he left -<i>Perotto</i>: 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 reverenced of the people.</p> - -<p>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 joy to a further enlarging or diminishing, -by sight of the other limme of his life, his dearely affected -daughter <i>Gianetta</i>, denying rest to his body in any place, untill such time -as he came to <i>London</i>. Making there secret enquiry, concerning the Lady -with whom he had left his daughter: hee understoode, that a young -Gentlewoman, named <i>Gianetta</i>, was married to that Ladies onely Son; -which made a second addition of joy to his soule, accounting all his -passed adversities of no value, both his children being living, and in so -high honour.</p> - -<p>Having found her dwelling, and (like a kinde Father) being earnestly -desirous to see her; he dayly resorted neere to the house, where Sir <i>Roger -Mandavill</i> (for so was <i>Gianettaes</i> husband named) chauncing to see him, -being moved to compassion because he was both poore and aged: commaunded -one of his men, to take him into the house, and to give him -some foode for Gods sake, which (accordingly) the servant performed. -<i>Gianetta</i> had divers 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, even as if Nature -had truly instructed them, that this was their aged, though poore -Grandfather, and hee as lovingly receiving these kinde relations from -them, wisely and silently kept all to himselfe, with sighes, teares, and joyes -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 adjoining Parlour, and -threatned to beate them, if they would not doe what their Maister commanded -them.</p> - -<p>Then the children began to cry, saying, that they would tarie still by -the good olde man, because he loved 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 reverence, because shee was now a Noble woman, conceiving -wonderfull joy 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 <i>Gianetta</i> perceiving, -that when her children were fetcht away, they returned againe -to the olde man, and would not leave him; desired their Maister to let -them alone.</p> - -<p>While thus the children continued making much of the good olde -man, Lord <i>Andrew Mandevile</i>, Father to Sir <i>Roger</i>, came into the Hall, as -being so willed to doe by the Childrens Schoolemaister. He being a hastie -minded man, and one that ever despised <i>Gianetta</i> 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 mervaile, if like will to like, a beggers brats to keepe company -with beggers. The Count hearing these contemptible words, was -not a little greeved thereat, and although his courage was greater, then -his poore condition would permit him to expresse; yet, clouding all injuries -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.</p> - -<p>But honourable Sir <i>Roger</i>, perceiving 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 favoured 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 service, -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 service, save 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 service, 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 -<i>D'Angiers</i>, & his children, it came to passe, that the King of <i>France</i> (after -divers leagues of truces passed between him & the <i>Germaines</i>) 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 <i>Germains</i>, the warres began to grow much more fierce -and sharpe, and the King of <i>England</i>, (upon request made to him by his -new brother of <i>France</i>) sent him very honourable supplies of his people, -under the conduct of <i>Perotto</i>, his lately elected President of <i>Wales</i>, and -Sir <i>Roger Mandevile</i>, 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 advice and actions; he accomplished many more notable -matters, then was expected to come from him.</p> - -<p>It so fell out, that in the continuance of this warre, the Queen of <i>France</i> -fell into a grievous sicknes, and perceiving 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 <i>Roane</i>, who -was reputed to be an holy and vertuous man. In the repetition of her other -offences, she revealed what great wrong she had done to the Count -<i>D'Angiers</i>, 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 living, or any of his Children) they might be restored -to their former honour againe.</p> - -<p>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 injuriously wronging a man of so great valour and honour: -Proclamation was made throughout the Camp, and in many other parts -of <i>France</i> beside, that whosoever could produce the Count <i>D'Angiers</i>, 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 favours, which the King franckely -would bestow upon him. When the Count (who walked up and downe in -the habite of a common servitor) heard this Proclamation, forth-with he -went to his Master Sir <i>Roger Mandevile</i>, requesting his speedy repaire to -Lord <i>Perotto</i>, that being both assembled together, he would acquaint -them with a serious matter, concerning the late Proclamation published -by the King. Being by themselves alone in the Tent, the Count spake in -this manner to <i>Perotto</i>. Sir, S. <i>Roger Mandevile</i> here, your equal competitor -in this military service, is the husband to your naturall sister, having as yet -never received any dowry with her, but her inherent unblemishable vertue -& honour. Now because she may not still remain destitute of a competent -Dowry: I desire that Sir <i>Roger</i>, and none other, may enjoy the royall reward -promised by the King. You Lord <i>Perotto</i>, whose true name is <i>Lewes</i>, -manifest your selfe to be nobly borne, and sonne to the wrongfull -banished Count <i>D'Angiers</i>: avouch moreover, that <i>Violenta</i>, shadowed -under the borrowed name of <i>Gianetta</i>, is your owne Sister; and deliver -me up as your Father, the long exiled Count <i>D'Angiers. Perotto</i> hearing -this, beheld him more advisedly, 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 <i>Lewes</i>.</p> - -<p>Sir <i>Roger Mandevile</i>, hearing first what the Count had said, and seeing -what <i>Perotto</i> afterward performed; became surprized with such extraordinary -joy and admiration, that he knew not how to carry himselfe in this -case. Neverthelesse, giving credite to his words, and being somewhat -ashamed, that he had not used the Count in more respective manner, & -remembring beside, the unkinde language of his furious Father to him: -he kneeled downe, humbly craving pardon, both for his fathers rudenes -and his owne, which was courteously granted by the Count, embracing -him lovingly in his armes.</p> - -<p>When they had a while discoursed their severall fortunes, sometime -in teares, and then againe in joy, <i>Perotto</i> and Sir <i>Roger</i>, would have the -Count to be garmented in better manner, but in no wise he would suffer -it; for it was his onely desire, that Sir <i>Roger</i> 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 injurious proceeding. Then Sir <i>Roger -Mandevile</i>, guiding the Count by the hand, and <i>Perotto</i> 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 <i>Roger</i> uppon 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, delivered the aged -Count, by the title of his servant, and presenting <i>Perotto</i> next, said. Sir, -heere I deliver you the Father and his Son, his daughter who is my wife, -cannot so conveniently be heere now, but shortly, by the permission of -heaven, your Majesty shall have a sight of her.</p> - -<p>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 joy also for his so happy recovery, he tooke up the Count -from kneeling, kissing, and embracing him very kindely, welcomming -<i>Perotto</i> in the selfesame manner. Immediately also he gave commaund, -that the Count should be restored to his honours, apparrell, servants, horses, -and furniture, answerable to his high estate and calling, which was as -speedily performed. Moreover, the King greatly honoured Sir <i>Roger -Mandevile</i>, desiring to be made acquainted with all their passed fortunes.</p> - -<p>When Sir <i>Roger</i> had received the royall reward, for thus surrendring -the Count and his Sonne, the Count calling him to him, saide. Take that -Princely remuneration of my soveraigne Lord the King, and commending -me to your unkinde Father, tell him that your Children are no beggars -brats, neither basely borne by their Mothers side. Sir <i>Roger</i> returning -home with his bountifull reward, soone after brought his Wife and -Mother to <i>Paris</i>, and so did <i>Perotto</i> his Wife, where in great joy and triumph, -they continued a long while with the noble Count; who had all his -goods and honours restored to him, in farre greater measure then ever -they were before: his Sonnes in Law returning home with their Wives -into <i>England</i>, left the Count with the King at <i>Paris</i>, where he spent the -rest of his dayes in great honour and felicity.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Bernardo_a_Merchant_of_Geneway_being_deceived_by_another_Merchant" id="Bernardo_a_Merchant_of_Geneway_being_deceived_by_another_Merchant">Bernardo, <i>a Merchant of</i> Geneway, <i>being deceived by another Merchant, -named</i> Ambroginolo, <i>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 -servant to the Soldane. The deceiver being found at last, shee compassed -such meanes, that her Husband</i> Bernardo <i>came into</i> Alexandria, <i>and -there, after due punishment inflicted on the false deceiver, shee resumed the -garments againe of a woman, and returned home with her Husband to</i> Geneway.</a></h4> - -<h2>The ninth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is declared, that by over-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 justly punished for their treachery.</i></h4> - - -<p>Madam <i>Eliza</i> having ended her compassionate discourse, which indeede -had moved all the rest to sighing; the Queene, who was faire, -comely of stature, and carrying a very majesticall countenance, smiling -more familiarly then the other, spake to them thus. It is very necessary, -that the promise made to <i>Dioneus</i>, should carefully be kept, and because -now there remaineth none, to report any more Novels, but onely he and -my selfe: I must first deliver mine, and he (who takes it for an honour) to -be the last in relating his owne, last let him be for his owne deliverance. -Then pausing a little while, thus shee began againe. Many times among -vulgar people, it hath passed as a common Proverbe: That the deceiver -is often trampled on, by such as he hath deceived. And this cannot shew -it selfe (by any reason) to be true, except such accidents as awaite on treachery, -doe really make a just discovery thereof. And therefore according -to the course of this day observed, I am the woman, that must make good -what I have saide for the approbation of that Proverbe; no way (I hope) -distastfull to you in the hearing, but advantageable to preserve you from -any such beguiling.</p> - -<p>There was a faire and good Inne in <i>Paris</i>, much frequented by many -great <i>Italian</i> Merchants, according to such variety of occasions and businesse, -as urged their often resorting thither. One night among many other, -having had a merry Supper together, they began to discourse on divers -matters, and falling from one relation to another; they communed -in very friendly manner, concerning their wives, 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 love to my wife, and make use -of such an advantage offered.</p> - -<p>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 unknowne are sildome or never called in question. A thirde -man jumpt in censure, with his former fellowes of the Jury; and it plainly -appeared, that al the rest were of the same opinion, condemning their -wives over-rashly, and alledging, that when husbands strayed so far from -home, their wives had wit enough to make use of their time.</p> - -<p>Onely one man among them all, named <i>Bernardo Lomellino</i>, & dwelling -in <i>Geneway</i>, maintained the contrary; boldly avouching, that by the -especiall favour 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 <i>Italy</i> -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 whatsoever, but in woman-hoode shee went beyond -all other. No Lord, Knight, Esquire, or Gentleman, could bee better -served 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 never would shee falsifie her -faith to him, or be lewdly allured by any other man.</p> - -<p>Among these Merchants thus communing together, there was a -young proper man, named <i>Ambroginolo</i> of <i>Placentia</i>, who began to laugh -at the last praises, which <i>Bernardo</i> had used of his wife, and seeming to -make a mockerie thereat, demaunded, if the Emperour had given him -this priviledge, above all other married men? <i>Bernardo</i> being somewhat -offended, answered: No Emperour hath done it, but the especiall blessing -of heaven, exceeding all the Emperours on the earth in grace, and -thereby have received this favour; whereto <i>Ambroginolo</i> presently thus -replied. <i>Bernardo</i>, without all question to the contrary, I beleeve that -what thou hast said, is true, but, for ought I can perceive, thou hast slender -judgement in the nature of things: because, if thou didst observe -them well, thou couldst not be of so grosse understanding; 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 have spoken of our wives, doe thinke any -otherwise of them, then as well and honestly as thou canst of thine, nor -that any thing else did urge 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, upon the matter already -propounded.</p> - -<p>I have ever more understood, that man was the most noble creature, -formed by God to live in this world, and woman in the next degree to -him: but man, as generally is beleeved, and as is discerned by apparant -effects, is the most perfect of both. Having 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 universally graunted, that woman -is more various and mutable, and the reason thereof may be approved, -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 covet the enjoying 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 conceive of a fraile woman, subject (by nature) to -entreaties, flatteries, gifts, perswasions, and a thousand other enticing -meanes, which a man (that is affected to her) can use? Doest thou think -then that shee hath any power to containe? Assuredly, though thou -shouldst rest so resolved, yet cannot I be of the same opinion. For I am -sure thou beleevest, 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 have, 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 -unadvisedly hast done.</p> - -<p><i>Bernardo</i> 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 understanding or shame: but such as are wise, and endued with vertue, -have alwayes such a precious esteeme of their honour, that they will -containe those principles of constancie, which men are meerely carelesse -of, and I justifie my wife to be one of them. Beleeve me <i>Bernardo</i> (replied -<i>Ambroginolo</i>) if so often as thy wives minde is addicted to wanton folly, -a badge of scorne should arise on thy forehead, to render testimonie -of her female frailty; I beleeve the number of them would be more, then -willingly you would wish them to be. And among all married men, in -every degree, the notes are so secret of their wives 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 never -imposed, but in cases evident and apparant.</p> - -<p>Perswade thy selfe then <i>Bernardo</i>, 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 never 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 divers women. Yea, and let me tell thee more <i>Bernardo</i>, were I -in private company with thy wife, howsoever 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.</p> - -<p><i>Bernardoes</i> blood began now to boile, and patience being a little put -downe by choller, thus hee replied. A combat of words requires over-long -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 have my head smitten off, if thou canst winne her to any such -dishonest act, by any meanes whatsoever thou canst use unto her; which -if thou canst not doe, thou shalt onely loose a thousand duckets of gold. -Now began <i>Ambroginolo</i> to be heated with these words, answering thus. -<i>Bernardo</i>, if I had won the wager, I know not what I should doe with thy -head; but if thou be willing to stand upon the proofe, pawne downe five -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 departing hence. I will stand bound to goe for <i>Geneway</i>, 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 private -and especiall tokens, as thou thy selfe shalt confesse that I have not failed. -Provided, that thou doe first promise upon 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 undertaken.</p> - -<p><i>Bernardo</i> saide, be it a bargaine, I am the man that will make good -my five 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 delivered under -either of their hands, <i>Bernardo</i> remaining at <i>Paris</i>, and <i>Ambroginolo</i> -departing for <i>Geneway</i>. There he remained some few dayes, to learne the -streetes name where <i>Bernardo</i> 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 perceived, that he had -undertaken a very idle enterprise, yet would he not give it over so, but -proceeded therein a little further.</p> - -<p>He wrought such meanes, that he came acquainted with a poore woman, -who often frequented <i>Bernardoes</i> house, and was greatly in favour -with his wife; upon whose poverty he so prevailed, 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 -conveyed into the House of <i>Bernardoes</i> Wife, under 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 Bed-chamber, -which was the place where <i>Ambroginolo</i> most desired to -bee.</p> - -<p>Being thus conveyed 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 ever used to -have: <i>Ambroginolo</i> softly opened the Chest, according as cunningly hee -had contrived it; and stepping forth in his sockes made of cloath, observed -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 bravery. No especiall note or marke could hee descrie, -whereof he might make credible report, but onely a small wart upon her -left pappe, with some few haires growing thereon, appearing to be as yellow -as gold.</p> - -<p>Sufficient had he seene, and durst presume no further; but taking one -of her Rings, which lay upon 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 severall nights, the Gentlewoman -neither mistrusting or missing any thing. The third day being come, the -poore woman, according as formerly was concluded, came to have -home her Chest againe, and brought it safely into her owne house; where -<i>Ambroginolo</i> comming forth of it, satisfied the poore woman to her own -liking, returning (with all the forenamed things) so fast as conveniently -he could to <i>Paris</i>.</p> - -<p>Being arrived there long before his limitted time, he called the Merchants -together, who were present at the passed words and wager; avouching -before <i>Bernardo</i>, that he had won his five thousand Duckets, and -performed the taske he undertooke. 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 every circumstance else beside. -Next he shewed the severall things, which he brought away thence -with him, affirming that he had received them of her selfe. <i>Bernardo</i> confessed, -that his description of the Chamber was true, and acknowledged -moreover, that these other things did belong to his Wife: But (quoth -he) this may be gotten, by corrupting some servant 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 <i>Ambroginolo</i>, me thinks -these should serve for sufficient proofes; but seeing thou art so desirous to -know more: I plainely tell thee, that faire <i>Genevra</i> thy Wife, hath a small -round wart upon her left pappe, and some few little golden haires growing -thereon.</p> - -<p>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 unable to utter one word) -that <i>Ambroginolo</i> had spoken nothing but the truth. Within a while after, -he saide; Gentlemen, that which <i>Ambroginolo</i> 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, even to the utmost penny, departing -then from <i>Paris</i> towards <i>Geneway</i>, 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 arrived, he called a servant, in whom hee reposed -especiall trust, sending him to <i>Geneway</i> with two Horses, writing to his -Wife, that he was returned, and shee should come thither to see him. But -secretly he charged his servant, that so soone as he had brought her to a -convenient place, he should there kill her, without any pitty or compassion, -and then returne to him againe.</p> - -<p>When the servant was come to <i>Geneway</i>, and had delivered his Letter -and message, <i>Genevra</i> gave him most joyful welcome, and on the -morrow morning mounting on Horse-backe with the servant, rode merrily -towards the Countrey house; divers things shee discoursed on by the -way, till they descended into a deepe solitary valey, very thickly beset with -high and huge spreading Trees, which the servant supposed to be a meete -place, for the execution of his Masters command. Suddenly drawing -forth his Sword, and holding <i>Genevra</i> fast by the arme, he saide; Mistresse, -quickly commend your soule to God, for you must die, before you passe -any further. <i>Genevra</i> seeing the naked Sword, and hearing the words so -peremptorily delivered, fearefully answered; Alas deare friend, mercy -for Gods sake; and before thou kill me, tell me wherein I have offended -thee, and why thou must kill me? Alas good Mistresse replied the servant, -you have not any way offended me, but in what occasion you have displeased -your Husband, it is utterly unknowne 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 commandedeth. -God is my witnesse, that I am truly compassionate of you, and yet -(by no meanes) may I let you live.</p> - -<p><i>Genevra</i> kneeling before him weeping, wringing her hands, thus replied. -Wilt thou turne Monster, and be a murtherer of her that never -wronged thee, to please another man, and on a bare command? God, who -truly knoweth all things, is my faithfull witnesse, that I never committed -any offence, whereby to deserve the dislike of my Husband, much lesse -so harsh a recompence as this is. But flying from mine owne justification, -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 enjoy 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 ever heare any tydings of me.</p> - -<p>The servant, who had no great good will to kill her, very easily grew -pittifull, tooke off her upper garments, and gave 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 delivered him her -garments, he assured him, that he had not onely accomplished his commaund, -but also was most secure from any discovery: because he had no -sooner done the deede, but foure or five very ravenous Wolfes, came -presently running to the dead body, and gave it buriall in their bellies. -<i>Bernardo</i> soone after returning to <i>Geneway</i>, was much blamed for such -unkinde cruelty to his wife; but his constant avouching of her treason to -him (according then to the Countries custome) did cleare him from all -pursuite of law.</p> - -<p>Poore <i>Genevra</i>, was left thus alone and disconsolate, and night stealing -fast upon her, shee went to a silly village neere adjoining, where (by the -meanes of a good olde woman) she got such provision as the place afforded, -making the doublet fit to her body, and converting 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 <i>Cathalogna</i>, -whose name was <i>Signior Enchararcho</i>, who came on land from his Ship, -which lay hulling there about <i>Albagia</i>, to refresh himselfe at a pleasant -Spring. <i>Enchararcho</i> taking her to be a man, as shee appeared no otherwise -by her habite; upon some conference passing betweene them, shee -was entertained into his service, and being brought aboord the Ship, -she went under the name of <i>Sicurano da Finale</i>. There shee had better -apparell bestowne on her by the Gentleman, and her service proved so -pleasing and acceptable to him, that hee liked her care and diligence beyond -all comparison.</p> - -<p>It came to passe within a short while after, that this Gentleman of -<i>Cathalogna</i> sayled (with some charge of his) into <i>Alexandria</i>, carying thither -certaine peregrine Faulcons, which hee presented to the Soldane: -who oftentimes welcommed this Gentleman to his table, where hee observed -the behaviour of <i>Sicurano</i>, attending on his Maisters trencher, -and therewith was so highly pleased; that he requested to have him from -the Gentleman, who (for his more advancement) willingly parted with -his so lately entertained servant. <i>Sicurano</i> was so ready and discreete in -his dayly services; that he grew in as great grace with the Soldane, as before -he had done with <i>Enchararcho</i>.</p> - -<p>At a certaine season in the yeare, as customarie order (there observed) -had formerly beene, in the Citie of <i>Acres</i>, which was under the Soldanes -subjection: there yearely met a great assembly of Merchants, as Christians, -Moores, Jewes, 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 -used to send thither some of his ordinarie Officers, and a strong -guard of Souldiers beside, to defend them from all injuries and molestation, -because he reaped thereby no meane benefit. And who should be -now sent about this businesse, but his new elected favourite <i>Sicurano</i>; because -she was skilfull and perfect in the languages.</p> - -<p><i>Sicurano</i> being come to <i>Acres</i>, 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 every -part of the Fayre, where shee observed a worthy company of Merchants, -Sicilians, Pisanes, Genewayes, Venetians, and other Italians, -whom the more willingly shee noted, in remembrance of her native -Countrey. At one especiall time, among other, chancing into a Shop or -Boothe belonging to the Venetians; she espied (hanging up 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.</p> - -<p><i>Ambroginolo</i> of <i>Placentia</i>, 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 were his, but not to be solde, yet if hee liked them gladly, hee -would bestowe them on him. <i>Sicurano</i> seeing him smile, suspected, least -himselfe had (by some unfitting behaviour) 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. <i>Ambroginolo</i> replied. My Lord, pardon me, -I smile not at you, or your demaund; but at the manner how I came by -these things.</p> - -<p><i>Sicurano</i>, upon this answere, was ten times more desirous then before, -and said. If Fortune favoured thee in friendly manner, by the obtaining -of these things: if it may be spoken, tell me how thou hadst them. My -Lord (answered <i>Ambroginolo</i>) these things (with many more beside) -were given me by a Gentlewoman of <i>Geneway</i>, named Madame <i>Genevra</i>, -the wife to one <i>Bernardo Lomellino</i>, 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 -five 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 deserved to be punished for his folly, -then shee, who was but sicke of all womens disease: returning from <i>Paris</i> -to <i>Geneway</i>, caused her to be slaine, as afterward it was reported by -himselfe.</p> - -<p>When <i>Sicurano</i> heard this horrible lye, immediatly shee conceived, -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. -<i>Sicurano</i> seemed to like well this report, and grew into such familiarity -with <i>Ambroginolo</i>, that (by her perswasions) when the Fayre was -ended, she tooke him higher with her into <i>Alexandria</i>, and all his Wares -along with him, furnishing him with a fit and convenient 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.</p> - -<p>Much did shee pitty her Husbands perplexity, devising 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 divers gallant Merchants of <i>Geneway</i>, that then remained in <i>Alexandria</i>, -and by vertue of the <i>Soldans</i> friendly Letters, beside to bring him thither -upon 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 private) entertained by divers of her worthy -friends, till time did favour what shee further intended.</p> - -<p>In the expectation of <i>Bernardoes</i> arrivall, shee had so prevailed with -<i>Ambroginolo</i>, that the same tale which he formerly tolde to her, he delivered -againe in presence of the <i>Soldane</i>, who seemed to be well pleased with -it: But after shee had once seene her Husband, shee thought upon her -more serious businesse; providing her selfe of an apt opportunity, when -shee entreated such favour of the <i>Soldane</i>, that both the men might be -brought before him, where if <i>Ambroginolo</i> would not confesse (without -constraint) that which he had made his vaunt of concerning <i>Bernardoes</i> -Wife, he might be compelled thereto perforce.</p> - -<p><i>Sicuranoes</i> word was a Law with the <i>Soldane</i>, so that <i>Ambroginolo</i> and -<i>Bernardo</i> being brought face to face, the <i>Soldane</i>, with a sterne and angry -countenance, in the presence of a most Princely Assembly; commanded -<i>Ambroginolo</i> to declare the truth, yea, upon peril of his life, by what means -he won the wager, of the five thousand golden Duckets he received of -<i>Bernardo. Ambroginolo</i> seeing <i>Sicurano</i> there present, upon whose favour -he wholly relied, yet perceiving her lookes likewise to be as dreadfull as -the <i>Soldanes</i>, and hearing her threaten him with most greevous torments, -except he revealed the truth indeede: you may easily guesse (faire company) -in what condition he stood at that instant.</p> - -<p>Frownes and fury he beheld on either side, and <i>Bernardo</i> 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 avouched. Yet dreaming on no other paine or penalty, but restoring -backe the five thousand Duckets of gold, and the other things by -him purloyned, truly he revealed the whole forme of his falshood. Then -<i>Sicurano</i> according as the <i>Soldane</i> had formerly commanded him, turning -to <i>Bernardo</i>, saide. And thou, upon the suggestion of this foule lie, -what didst thou to thy Wife? Being (quoth <i>Bernardo</i>) overcome with -rage, for the losse of my money, and the dishonour I supposed to receive -by my Wife; I caused a servant of mine to kill her, and as he credibly avouched, -her body was devoured by ravenous Wolves in a moment -after.</p> - -<p>These things being thus spoken and heard, in the presence of the <i>Soldane</i>, -and no reason (as yet) made knowne, why the case was so seriously -urged, and to what end it would succeede: <i>Sicurano</i> spake in this manner -to the Soldane. My gracious Lord, you may plainely perceive, in what -degree that poore Gentlewoman might make her vaunt, being so well -provided, both of a loving friend, and a husband. Such was the friends -love, 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 invincible trueth, -whereof he had faithfull knowledge, by long and very honourable experience; -caused her to be slaine, and made foode for devouring Wolves. -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 have worthily deserved: -if you please (in your ever knowne gracious benignity) to permit -the punishment of the deceiver, and pardon the party so deceived; -I will procure such meanes, that she shall appeare here in your presence, -and theirs.</p> - -<p>The Soldane, being desirous to give <i>Sicurano</i> all manner of satisfaction, -having followed the course so industriously: bad him to produce the -woman, and hee was well contented. Whereat <i>Bernardo</i> stoode much -amazed, because he verily beleeved that she was dead. And <i>Ambroginolo</i> -foreseeing already a preparation for punishment, feared, that the repayment -of the money would not now serve 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. <i>Sicurano</i> having -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 use them, but must truely witnesse -what she was indeede, and therefore thus spake.</p> - -<p>Great Soldane, I am the miserable and unfortunate <i>Genevra</i>, that, for -the space of sixe whole yeares, have wandered through the world, in the -habite of a man, falsly and most maliciously slaundered, by this villainous -traytour <i>Ambroginolo</i>, and by this unkinde cruell husband, betrayed -to his servant to be slaine, and left to be devoured by savage 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 <i>Ambroginolo</i>, -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, having alreadie acknowledged the -contrarie, being stricken dumbe with shamefull disgrace, was not able to -utter one word.</p> - -<p>The Soldane, who had alwayes reputed <i>Sicurano</i> to be a man, having -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 <i>Genevra</i>, whom (till that time) he had alwayes called <i>Sicurano</i>. So committing -her to the company of honourable Ladies, to be changed from -her manly habite: he pardoned <i>Bernardo</i> her husband (according to her -request formerly made) although hee had more justly deserved death; -which likewise himselfe confessed, and falling at the feete of <i>Genevra</i>, desired -her (in teares) to forgive his rash transgression, which most lovingly -she did, kissing and embracing him a thousand times.</p> - -<p>Then the Soldane strictly commaunded, that on some high and eminent -place of the Citie, <i>Ambroginolo</i> should be bound and impaled on a -Stake, having his naked body annointed all over with honey, and never to -be taken off, untill (of it selfe) it fell in pieces, which, according to the -sentence, was presently performed. Next, he gave expresse charge, that -all his mony and goods should be given to <i>Genevra</i>, which valued above -ten thousand double Duckets. Forth-with a solemne feast was prepared, -wherein, much honour was done to <i>Bernardo</i>, being the husband -of <i>Genevra</i>: and to her, as to a most worthy woman, and matchlesse wife, -he gave in costly Jewels, as also vessels of gold and silver plate, so much -as amounted to above ten thousand double Duckets more.</p> - -<p>When the feasting was finished, he caused a Ship to be furnished for -them, graunting them licence to depart for <i>Geneway</i> when they pleased: -whither they returned most rich and joyfully, being welcommed home -with great honour, especially Madame <i>Genevra</i>, whom every one supposed -to be dead, and alwayes after, so long as shee lived, shee was most famous -for her manifold vertues. But as for <i>Ambroginolo</i>, 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 devoured 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 evill -towards him. And thus was the Proverbe truly verified, that shame succeedeth -after ugly sinne, and the deceiver is trampled and trod, by such -as himselfe hath deceived.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Pagamino_da_Monaco_a_roving_Pirate_on_the_Seas_caried_away_the_faire" id="Pagamino_da_Monaco_a_roving_Pirate_on_the_Seas_caried_away_the_faire">Pagamino da Monaco, <i>a roving Pirate on the Seas, caried away the faire -Wife of</i> Signior Ricciardo di Chinzica, <i>who understanding where shee -was, went thither; and falling into friendship with</i> Pagamino, <i>demaunded -his Wife of him; whereto he yeelded, provided, that shee would willingly goe -away with him. She denied to part thence with her Husband, and</i> Signior -Ricciardo <i>dying; she became the Wife of</i> Pagamino.</a></h4> - -<h2>The tenth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein olde men are wittily reprehended, that will match themselves with -younger women, then is fit for their yeares and insufficiencie; never considering, -what afterward may happen to them.</i></h4> - - -<p>Every one in this honest and gracious assembly, most highly commended -the Novell recounted by the Queene: but especially <i>Dioneus</i>, -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 Novell, 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 unmanly indiscretion of <i>Bernardo</i>, -but much more the base arrogancie of <i>Ambroginolo</i>, how justly deserved -shame fell upon him; as well it may happen to all other, that are so vile -in their owne opinions, as he apparantly approved himselfe to be. For, -as men wander abroade in the world, according to their occasions in diversity -of Countries, and observation of the peoples behaviour: so are -their humours as variously transported. And if they finde women wantonly -disposed abroade, the like judgement they give of their wives at -home; as if they had never 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 themselves to be endued with more -strength, then Nature ever meant to bestow upon them, foolishly beleeving, -that they can cover 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.</p> - -<p>Let me tell you then, that there lived in <i>Pisa</i> (about some hundred yeeres -before <i>Tuscanie</i> & <i>Liguria</i> came to embrace the Christian Faith) a Judge -better stored with wisdome and ingenuity, then corporall abilities of the -body, he being named <i>Signior Ricciardo di Cinzica</i>. 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 endeavour) to enjoy a faire -and youthfull wife in marriage: both which qualities he should much rather -have avoyded, if he could have ministred as good counsell to himselfe, as -he did to others, resorting to him for advice.</p> - -<p>Upon this his amorous and diligent inquisition, it came so to passe, -that a worthy Gentlewoman, called <i>Bertolomea</i>, one of the very fairest and -choysest young Maides in <i>Pisa</i>, whose youth did hardly agree with his -age; but mucke was the motive of this mariage, and no expectation of -mutuall contentment. The Judge being maried, and the Bride brought -solemnly home to his house, we need make no question of brave cheare -& banqueting, wel furnished by their friends on either side: other matters -were now hammering in the Judges 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 Judge failing -in plea for his owne defence, was often non-suited by lacke of answer; yet -he wanted neither good wines, drugges, and all restauratives, to comfort -the heart, and encrease good blood; but all avayled not in this case.</p> - -<p>But well fare a good courage, where performance faileth, he could liberally -commend his passed joviall 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 <i>Ravenna</i>, 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 reverence of whom, and for their sakes, -he approved by divers 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 honour of our Lords rest, and all the sacred time -of Lent; as also certaine observations of the Moone, & infinite other exceptions -beside; thinking perhaps, that it was as convenient for men to -refraine from their wives conversation, as he did often times from sitting -in the Court. These were his daily documents to his young wife, wherewith -(poore soule) she became so tired, as nothing could be more irksome -to her; and very carefull he was, lest any other shold teach her what belonged -to working daies, because he wold have her know none but holidaies.</p> - -<p>Afterward it came to passe, that the season waxing extremely hot, <i>Signior -Ricciardo</i> would goe recreate himselfe at his house in the Countrey, -neere unto the black Mountaine, where for his faire wives more contentment, -he continued divers dayes together. And for her further recreation, -he gave order, to have a day of fishing; he going aboard a small Pinnace -among the Fishers, and shee was in another, consorted with divers -other Gentlewomen, in whose company shee shewed her selfe very well -pleased. Delight made them launch further into the Sea, then either the -Judge was willing they should have done, or agreed with respect of their -owne safety. For suddenly a Galliot came upon them, wherein was one -<i>Pagamino</i>, 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 coveted -after no other purchase; but mounting her into his Galliot, in the sight of -<i>Signior Ricciardo</i>, who (by this time) was fearefully landed, he caried her away -with him. When <i>Signior</i> Judge had seene this theft (he being so jealous -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 <i>Pisa</i>, and in many other places beside, what injury he had -sustained by those Pyrates, in carying his wife thus away from him: but all -was in vaine, he neither (as yet) knew the man, nor whether he had conveyed -her from him. <i>Pagamino</i> perceiving 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 using any harsh or uncivill demeanor to her, because -shee wept and lamented grievously. But when night came, her husbands -Calendar falling from her girdle, and all the fasts & feasts quite out -of her remembrance; she received such curteous consolations from <i>Pagamino</i>, -that before they could arrive at <i>Monaco</i>, the Judge & his Law cases, -were almost out of her memory, such was his affable behaviour to her, and -she began to converse with him in more friendly manner, and he entreating -her as honourably, as if shee had beene his espoused wife.</p> - -<p>Within a short while after, report had acquainted <i>Ricciardo</i> the Judge, -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 <i>Monaco</i>, where he saw his wife, and shee him, as (soone after) shee made -known to <i>Pagamino</i>. On the morrow following, <i>Signior Ricciardo</i> meeting -with <i>Pagamino</i>, made means to be acquainted with him, & within lesse then -an houres space, they grew into familiar & private conference: <i>Pagamino</i> -yet pretending not to know him, but expected what issue this talke would -sort to. When time served, the Judge discoursed the occasion of his comming -thither, desiring him to demand what ransome he pleased, & that he -might have his wife home with him; whereto <i>Pagamino</i> thus answered.</p> - -<p>My Lord Judge, you are welcome hither, and to answer you breefely -very true it is, that I have a yong Gentlewoman in my house, whome I -neither know to be your wife, of any other mans else whatsoever: 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 avouch, 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 have said, and be willing to depart hence with you: I shall rest well -satisfied, and will have no other recompence for her ransome (in regard -of your grave and reverent yeares) but what your selfe shall please to give -me. But if it fall out otherwise, and prove not to be as you have 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. Beleeve it certainly, replied the Judge, that she is -my wife, and if you please to bring me where she is, you shall soone perceive -it: for, she will presently cast her armes about my neck, and I durst -adventure the utter losse of her, if shee denie to doe it in your presence. -Come on then, said <i>Pagamino</i>, and let us delay the time no longer.</p> - -<p>When they were entred into <i>Pagaminoes</i> 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 conversing together; never uttering any one word to <i>Signior -Ricciardo</i>, or knowing him from any other stranger, that <i>Pagamino</i> might -bring in to the house with him. Which when my Lord the Judge beheld, -(who expected to finde a farre more gracious welcome) he stoode -as a man amazed, saying to himselfe. Perhaps the extraordinary griefe -and melancholly, 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 Love, dearely have I -bought your going on fishing, because never man felt the like afflictions, -as I have done since the day when I lost you: but by this your uncivill silence, -you seeme as if you did not know me. Why dearest Love, seest thou -not that I am thy husband <i>Ricciardo</i>, who am come to pay what ransome -this Gentleman shall demaund, even in the house where now we are: so -to convay thee home againe, upon his kinde promise of thy deliverance, -after the payment of thy ransome?</p> - -<p><i>Bertolomea</i> turning towards him, and seeming as if shee smiled to her -selfe, thus answered. Sir, speake you to me? Advise your selfe well, least -you mistake me for some other, because, concerning my selfe, I doe not -remember, that ever I did see you till now. How now quoth <i>Ricciardo</i>? -consider better what you say, looke more circumspectly on me, and then -you will remember, that I am your loving husband, and my name is <i>Ricciardo -di Cinzica</i>. You must pardon me Sir, replied <i>Bertolomea</i>, 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 upon you never -so often, certaine I am, that (till this instant) I have not seene you.</p> - -<p>My Lord Judge conceived in his mind, that thus she denied all knowledge -of him, as standing in feare of <i>Pagamino</i>, and would not confesse him in -his presence. Wherefore hee entreated of <i>Pagamino</i>, to affoord him so -much favour, that he might speake alone with her in her Chamber. <i>Pagamino</i> -answered, that he was well contented therewith, provided, that he -should not kisse her against her will. Then he requested <i>Bertolomea</i>, 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, <i>Signior Ricciardo</i> began -in this manner. Heart of my heart, life of my life, the sweetest hope -that I have in this world; wilt thou not know thine owne <i>Ricciardo</i>, who -loveth 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.</p> - -<p><i>Bertolomea</i> smiled to her selfe, and without suffering him to proceed any -further in speech, returned him this answere. I would have you to understand -Sir, that my memory is not so oblivious, but I know you to be <i>Signior -Ricciardo di Cinzica</i>, 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 judgement) -the world reputed you to be, you could not be voide of so much -apprehension, but did apparantly perceive, 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 utter it. But if studying the Lawes were -more welcome to you then a wife, you ought not to have maried, & you -loose the worthy reputation of a Judge, 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 conversation of husbands and wives.</p> - -<p>Here am I now with a worthy Gentleman, that entertained mee with -very honourable respect, and here I live 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 civill conversation, 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 enjoying any -company of mine, for you heare my resolved determination.</p> - -<p>The Judge hearing these words, was overcome with exceeding griefe, -& when she was silent, thus he began. Alas deare Love, what an answer -is this? Hast thou no regard of thine owne honour, thy Parents, & friends? -Canst thou rather affect to abide here, for the pleasures of this man, and -so sin capitally, then to live at <i>Pisa</i> 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 reject thee. I must and shall love thee for ever, and when -I dye, I leave 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 loves 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 endeavour heereafter to give thee better contentment. -Wherefore (deare heart) doe not denie me, but change thy minde, and -goe with me, for I never saw merry day since I lost thee.</p> - -<p>Sir (quoth she) I desire no body to have care of mine honour, 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 have I to regard them now? And -whereas you taxe me, that I cannot live here without capitall sin; farre is -the thought thereof from me, for, here I am regarded as the wife of <i>Pagamino</i>, -but at <i>Pisa</i>, you reputed me not worthy your society: because, by -the point of the Moone, and the quadratures of Geomatrie; the Planets -held conjunction betweene you and me, whereas here I am subject to no -such constellations. You say beside, that hereafter you will strive to give -me better contentment then you have 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 -rejecting me, when his humour is satisfied; should if it prove to be -so (as it is the least part of my feare) what fortune soever shall betide me, -never will I make any meanes to you, what miseries or misadventures -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 live secured from all offence to holy Saints, and -not to injury their feasts, fasts, vigills, and other ceremonious seasons: -here is my demourance, and from hence I purpose not to part.</p> - -<p>Our Judge was now in a wofull perplexity, and confessing his folly, in -marying a wife so yong, and far unfit for his age and abilitie: being halfe -desperate, sad and displeased, he came forth of the Chamber, using divers -speeches to <i>Pagamino</i>, whereof he made little or no account at all, and in -the end, without any other successe, left his wife there, & returned home -to <i>Pisa</i>. There, further afflictions fell upon him, because the people began -to scorne him, demanding dayly of him, what was become of his gallant -young wife, making hornes, with ridiculous pointings at him: whereby his -sences became distracted, so that he ran raving about the streetes, and afterward -died in very miserable manner. Which newes came no sooner -to the eare of <i>Pagamino</i>, but, in the honourable affection hee bare to <i>Bertolomea</i>, -he maried her, with great solemnity; banishing all Fasts, Vigils, -and Lents from his house, and living with her in much felicity. Wherefore -(faire Ladies) I am of opinion, that <i>Bernardo</i> of <i>Geneway</i>, in his disputation -with <i>Ambroginolo</i>, might have shewne himselfe a great deale wiser, -and spared his rash proceeding with his wife.</p> - -<p>This tale was so merrily entertained among the whole company, that -each one smiling upon another, with one consent commended <i>Dioneus</i>, -maintaining that he spake nothing but the truth, & condemning <i>Bernardo</i> -for his cruelty. Upon a generall silence commanded, the Queene perceiving -that the time was now very farre spent, and every one had delivered -their severall Novels, which likewise gave a period to her Royalty: shee -gave the Crowne to Madam <i>Neiphila</i>, pleasantly speaking to her in this -order. Heereafter, the government of these few people is committed to -your trust and care, for with the day concludeth my dominion. Madam -<i>Neiphila</i>, blushing at the honour done unto her, her cheekes appeared of a -vermillion tincture, her eyes glittering with gracefull desires, and sparkling -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.</p> - -<p>Seeing it is so, that you have elected me your Queene, to varie somewhat -from the course observed by them that went before me, whose government -you have all so much commended: by approbation of your -counsell, I am desirous to speake my mind, concerning what I wold have -to be next followed. It is not unknown 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. Moreover, Friday ought to be reverendly respected, in remembrance -of him, who died to give us 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 & devotions, -then the repetition of tales or Novels. Now concerning Saturday, -it hath bin a custom observed among women, to bath & wash themselves -from such immundicities as the former weekes toile hath imposed -on them. Beside, it is a day of fasting, in honour of the ensuing Sabath, whereon -no labour may be done, but the observation of holy exercises.</p> - -<p>By that which hath bin saide, you may easily conceive, that the course -which we have hitherto continued, cannot bee prosecuted, in one and -the same manner: wherefore, I would advice and do hold it an action wel -performed by us, to cease for these few dayes, from recounting any other -Novels. And because we have remained here foure daies already, except -we would allow the enlarging of our company, with some other friends -that may resort unto us: I think it necessary to remove from hence, & take -our pleasure in another place, which is already by me determined. When -we shal be there assembled, and have slept on the discourses formerly delivered, -let our next argument be still the mutabilities of Fortune, but especially -to concerne such persons, as by their wit and ingenuity, industriously -have attained to some matter earnestly desired, or else recovered againe, -after the losse. Heereon let us severally study and premeditate, that -the hearers may receive benefit thereby, with the comfortable maintenance -of our harmlesse recreations; the priviledge of <i>Dioneus</i> alwayes reserved -to himselfe.</p> - -<p>Every one commended the Queens deliberation, concluding that it shold -be accordingly prosecuted: and thereupon, the master of the houshold was -called, to give him order for that evenings Table service, and what else -concerned the time of the Queenes Royalty, wherein he was sufficiently -instructed: which being done, the company arose, licensing every one to -doe what they listed. The Ladies and Gentlemen walked to the Garden, -and having sported themselves 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 <i>Æmilia</i> led the dance, -and the ditty following, was sung by Madam <i>Pampinea</i>, being answered -by all the rest, as a Chorus.</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">The Song.<br /></span> -</i></div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">And if not I, what Lady else can sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of those delights, which kind contentment bring?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come, come, sweet Love, the cause of my chiefe good,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of all my hopes, the firme and full effect;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sing we together, but in no sad moode,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of sighes or teares, which joy doth counterchecke:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stolne pleasures are delightfull in the taste,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But yet Loves fire is often times too fierce;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Consuming comfort with ore-speedy haste,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which into gentle hearts too far doth pierce.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And if not I, &c.<br /></span> -</i></div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">The first day that I felt this fiery heate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So sweete a passion did possesse my soule,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That though I found the torment sharpe, and great;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet still me thought t'was but a sweete controule.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor could I count it rude, or rigorous,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Taking my wound from such a piercing eye:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As made the paine most pleasing, gracious,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I desire in such assaults to die.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And if not I, &c.<br /></span> -</i></div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">Grant then great God of Love, that I may still<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enjoy the benefit of my desire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And honour her with all my deepest skill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That first enflamde my heart with holy fire.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To her my bondage is free liberty,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My sicknesse health, my tortures sweet repose;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Say shee the word, in full felicity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All my extreames joyne in an happy close.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then if not I, what Lover else can sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of those delights which kind contentment bring.<br /></span> -</i></div></div> - -<p>After this Song was ended, they sung divers other beside, and having -great variety of instruments, they played 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 devotion.</p> - -<h4><i>The ende of the second Day.</i></h4> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="The_Third_Day" id="The_Third_Day">The Third Day.</a></h2> - -<h4><i>Upon which Day, all matters to be discoursed on, doe passe under the regiment of -Madam</i> Neiphila: <i>concerning such persons as (by their wit and industry) -have attained to their long wished desires, or recovered something, supposed -to be lost.</i></h4> - - -<h4><i>The Induction to the ensuing Discourses.</i></h4> - - -<p>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, having -(long before) sent all things necessary to the place -of their next intended meeting. And the people -which prepared there every 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 upon -the Ladies and Gentlemen.</p> - -<p>With a milde, majesticke, 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 travelled two small miles distance, all of them pleasantly -conversing together; they arrived at another goodly Palace, which being -somewhat mounted above the plaine, was seated on the side of a little rising -hill.</p> - -<p>When they were entred there into, and had seene the great Hall, the -Parlours, and beautifull Chambers, every one stupendiously furnished, -with all convenient 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 every 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 divers servants attending on him, presenting them with Comfits, -and other Banquetting, as also very singular Wines, to serve in sted -of a breakefast.</p> - -<p>Having thus reposed themselves 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 beautifull Garden, stored with all varieties that possibly could -be devised; and therefore they observed it the more respectively. The -walkes and allyes were long and spacious, yet directly straite as an arrow, -environed with spreading vines, whereon the grapes hung in copious clusters; -which being come to their full ripenesse, gave so rare a smell throughout -the Garden, with other sweete savours intermixed among, that they -supposed to feele the fresh spiceries of the East.</p> - -<p>It would require large length of time, to describe all the rarities of this -place, deserving 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 diversities of floures, even 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 savour to -the smell.</p> - -<p>In the middest of this Meadow, stood a Fountaine of white Marble, -whereon was engraven 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 up 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 overflow the bounds, it streamed along the Meadow, by secret passages -and chanels, very faire and artificially made, returning againe into every -part of the Meadow, by the like wayes of cunning conveighance, -which allowed it full course into the Garden, running swiftly thence down -towards the plaine; but before it came thether, the very swift current of -the streame, did drive two goodly Milles, which brought in great benefit -to the Lord of the soile.</p> - -<p>The sight of this Garden, the goodly grafts, plants, trees, hearbes, frutages, -and flowers, the Springs, Fountaines, and prety rivolets 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 walked 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, even -as if they envied each others felicities.</p> - -<p>But yet another beauty (which before had not presented it selfe unto -them) on a sodaine they perceyved; namely divers 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 every where: yet without strife or warring together, but -rather living in such a Domesticke and pleasing kinde of company, even -as if they were appoynted to enstruct the most noble of all creatures, to -imitate their sociable conversation.</p> - -<p>When their senses had sufficiently banquetted on these several beauties, -the tables were sodainly prepared about the Fountaine, where first -they sung sixe Canzonets; and having paced two or three dances, they -sate downe to dinner, according as the Queene ordained, being served 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 upon their instruments, singing and dancing gracefully together: -till, in regard of the extreame heate, the <i>Queene</i> commanded to -give over, and permitted such as were so pleased, to take their ease and -rest. But some, as not satisfied with the places pleasures, gave themselves -to walking: others fell to reading the lives of the Romanes; some to the -Chesse, and the rest to other recreations.</p> - -<p>But, after the dayes warmth was more mildely qualified, and everie -one had made benefit of their best content: they went (by order sent from -the <i>Queene</i>) into the Meadow where the Fountaine stood, and being set -about it, as they used to do in telling their Tales (the argument appointed -by the <i>Queene</i> being propounded) the first that had the charge imposed, -was <i>Philostratus</i>, who began in this manner.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Massetto_di_Lamporechio_by_counterfetting_himselfe_to_be_dumbe_became_a" id="Massetto_di_Lamporechio_by_counterfetting_himselfe_to_be_dumbe_became_a">Massetto di Lamporechio, <i>by counterfetting himselfe to be dumbe, became a -Gardiner in a Monastery of Nunnes, where he had familiar conversation -with them all.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The first Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is declared, that virginity is very hardly to be kept, in all places.</i></h4> - - -<p>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 put -on hir head (after it is once shorn -and filletted) & the blacke Cowle -given to cover her withall: shee is -no longer a woman, nor more sensible -of feminine affections, then -as if in turning Nun, shee became -converted 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 have power to do what they list, yea beyonde all -meanes of sufficient satisfying; never remembring withall, how potent -the priviledge of idlenesse is, especially when it is backt by solitude.</p> - -<p>In like manner, there are other people now, who do verily believe, 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 understanding. -But I will approve (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 upon so weake a foundation.</p> - -<p>Not far from <i>Alexandria</i>, there was (and yet is) a great & goodly Monastery, -belonging to the Lord of those parts, who is termed the Admirall. -And therein, under the care and trust of one woman, divers virgins were -kept as recluses or Nunnes, vowed to chastity of life; out of whose number, -the Soldan of <i>Babylon</i> (under whom they lived in subjection) at every -three yeares end, had usually three of these virgins sent him. At the time -whereof I am now to speak, there remained in the Monastery, no more but -eight religious Sisters only, beside the Governesse or Lady Abbesse, and -an honest poore man, who was a Gardiner, and kept the garden in commendable -order.</p> - -<p>His wages being small, and he not well contented therewith, would -serve there no longer: but making his accounts even, with the <i>Factotum</i> -or Bayliffe belonging to the house, returned thence to the village of <i>Lamporechio</i>, -being a native of the place. Among many other that gave him -welcom home, was a yong Hebrew pezant of the country, sturdy, strong, -and yet comely of person, being named <i>Masset</i>. But because he was born -not farre off from <i>Lamporechio</i>, and had there bin brought up all his yonger -dayes, his name of <i>Masset</i> (according to their vulgar speech) was turned -to <i>Massetto</i>, and therefore he was usually called and knowne, by the -name of <i>Massetto</i> of <i>Lamporechio</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Massetto</i>, falling in talke with the honest poore man, whose name was -<i>Lurco</i>, demanded of him what services hee had done in the Monasterie, -having continued there so long a time? Quoth <i>Lurco</i> 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 uppe all their -water beside, with many other toilesom services 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 devill -dwels among them, for a man cannot doe any thing to please them. -When I have 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 have lefte all businesse, gave -over the Garden, and what for one molestation, as also many other; I -intended to tarry no longer there, but came away, as thou seest. And -yet the <i>Factotum</i> desired me at my departing, that if I knew any one, who -would undertake 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.</p> - -<p>When <i>Massetto</i> had heard the Words of <i>Lurco</i>, hee was so desirous to -dwell among the Nunnes, that nothing else now hammered in his head: -for he meant more subtilly, then poore <i>Lurco</i> 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 <i>Lurco</i>, but onely demanded other -matters of him, and among them said. Introth thou didst well <i>Lurco</i>, -to come away from so tedious a dwelling; had he not need to be more -then a man that is to live with such women? It were better for him to -dwell among so many divels, because they understand not the tenth part -that womens wily wits can dive into.</p> - -<p>After their conference was ended, <i>Massetto</i> began to beat his braines, -how he might compasse to dwell among them, & knowing that he could -well enough performe all the labours, whereof <i>Lurco</i> 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. Having -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 have wit sufficient, cleanely to make them beleeve that I am dumbe, -then (questionlesse) I shall be received. And resolving to prosecute this -determination, he tooke a Spade on his shoulder, and without revealing -to any body, whether he went, in the disguise of a poore labouring countryman, -he travelled to the Monastery.</p> - -<p>When he was there arrived, he found the great gate open, and entering -in boldly, it was his good hap to espy the <i>Fac-totum</i> in the court, according -as <i>Lurco</i> had given description of him. Making signes before -him, as if he were both dumbe and deafe; he manifested, that he craved -an Almes for Gods sake, making shewes beside, that if need required, he -could cleave wood, or do any reasonable kinde of service. The <i>Fac-totum</i> -gladly gave him food, and afterward shewed him divers knotty logs -of wood, which the weake strength of <i>Lurco</i> had left uncloven; but this -fellow being more active and lusty, quickly rent them all to pieces. Now -it so fell out, that the <i>Fac-totum</i> must needs go to the Forrest, and tooke -<i>Massetto</i> along with him thither: where causing him to fell divers Trees, -by signes he bad him to lade the two Asses therewith, which commonly -carried home all the wood, and so drive them to the Monasterie before -him, which <i>Massetto</i> knew well enough how to do, and performed it very -effectually.</p> - -<p>Many other servile offices were there to bee done, which caused the -<i>Fac-totum</i> to make use of his paines divers other dayes beside: in which -time, the Lady Abbesse chancing to see him, demanded of the <i>Fac-totum</i> -what he was? Madam (quoth hee) a poore labouring man, who is both -deafe and dumbe: hither he came to crave an almes the other day, which -in charity I could do no lesse but give him; for which hee hath done many -honest services 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 services: for the old silly man is gone, and -we have neede of such a stout fellow, to do the businesse belonging unto -the Monastery, and one fitter for the turne, comes sildome hither. Moreover, -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: understand then, if hee have -any knowledge in Gardening, and whether hee will dwell heere, or no: -which compasse so kindly as you can. Let him have 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 <i>Fac-totum</i> promised -to fulfill sufficiently.</p> - -<p><i>Massetto</i>, 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 joyfull 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 <i>Fac-totum</i> perceived, that he knew perfectly -how to undergo his businesse, and had questioned him by signes, -concerning his willingnesse to serve there still, and received the like answer -also, of his dutifull readinesse thereto; he gave him order, to worke -in the Garden, because the season did now require it; and to leave all other -affayres for the Monastery, attending now onely the Gardens preparation.</p> - -<p>As <i>Massetto</i> 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 lavish 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 deprived -both of hearing and speaking, stood the lesse in feare of the Sisters walks, -but referred them to their owne care and providence. On a day, <i>Massetto</i> -having laboured somewhat extraordinarily, lay downe to rest him selfe -awhile under 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 observing his comelinesse of person, began to pity the poverty -of his condition, but much more the misery of his great defectes. -Then one of them, who had a little livelier spirit then the other, thinking -<i>Massetto</i> to be fast asleepe, began in this manner.</p> - -<p>Sister (quoth she) if I were faithfully assured of thy secrecie, I would -tell thee a thing which I have often thought on, and it may (perhaps) redound -to thy profit. [Example, at least excuses formed to that intent prevaileth much -with such kind of religious women.] Sister, replyed the other Nun, speake your minde -boldly, and beleeve it (on my Maiden-head) that I will never reveale it -to any creature living. Encouraged by this solemne answer, the first Nun -thus prosecuted her former purpose, saying. I know not Sister, whether it -hath entred into thine understanding or no, how strictly we are here kept -and attended, never any man daring to adventure among us, except our -good and honest <i>Fac-totum</i>, 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 oftentimes bin told me, by Gentle-women -comming hither to visite us, 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 unkind parents, binding us to perpetuall chastity, -which they were never able to observe themselves.</p> - -<p>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 discovering the same to her Ghostly Father in confession; he -absolved her of that sinne; affirming, that she had not transgressed with -a man, because he wanted his rationall and understanding parts. Behold -Sister, heere lyes a creature, almost formed in the selfe-same mold, dumb -and deafe, which are two the most rational and understanding 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 Lawes and -constitutions of our Religion doth teach us, that a sinne so assuredly concealed, -is more then halfe absolved.</p> - -<p><i>Ave Maria</i> Sister (said the other Nunne) what kinde of words are these -you utter? Doe not you know, that wee have promised our virginity to -God? Oh Sister (answered the other) how many things are promised -to him every day, and not one of a thousand kept or performed? If wee -have made him such a promise, and some of our weaker witted Sisters do -performe it for us, 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 prove 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 us consider on it then: thou art but a -Novice in matters of such moment, and wee are provided of a thousand -meanes, whereby to prevent conception. Or, if they should faile, wee -are so surely fitted, that the world shall never know it: let it suffice, our -lives 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.</p> - -<p>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 selves, and, while I awake him, -be you the watch, and afterward follow me in my fortune, for I will valiantly -leade you the way. <i>Massetto</i> imitating a dogges sleepe, heard 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 behaviour: into the close Arbour -they went, which the Sunnes bright eye could not pierce into, and there -I leave it to the Nunnes owne approbation, whether <i>Massetto</i> was a man -rationall, or no. Ill deedes require longer time to contrive, then act, and -both the Nunnes, having beene with <i>Massetto</i> at this new forme of confession, -were enjoyned (by him) such an easie and silent penance, as brought -them the oftner to shrift, and made him to proove a perfect Confessour.</p> - -<p>Desires obtained, but not fully satisfied, doe commonly urge more -frequent accesse, then wisdome thinkes expedient, or can continue without -discoverie. Our two Joviall Nunnes, not a little proud of their private -stolne pleasures, so long resorted to the close Arbour; till an other -Sister, who had often observed their haunt thither, by meanes of a little -hole in her window; that shee began to suspect them with <i>Massetto</i>, and -imparted the same to two other Sisters, all three concluding, to accuse -them before the Lady Abbesse. But upon a further conference had with -the offenders, they changed opinion, tooke the same oath as the forewoman -had done, and because they would be free from any taxation at -all: they revealed their adventures to the other three ignorants, and so -fell all eight into one formall confederacie, but by good and warie observation, -least the Abbesse her selfe should descry them; finding poore -<i>Massetto</i> such plenty of Garden-worke, as made him very doubtfull in -pleasing them all.</p> - -<p>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 -<i>Massetto</i> sleeping under an Almond tree, having then very little businesse -to doe, because he had wrought hard all the night before. Shee observed -him to be an hansome man, young, lusty, well limbde, and proportioned, -having a mercifull commisseration of his dumbnesse and deafenesse, -being perswaded also in like manner, that if he were an Eunuch too, he -deserved 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 resolved, almost falling sicke of -the other Nunnes disease. Having awaked him, she commanded him (by -signes) that he should follow her to her chamber, where he was kept close -so long, that the Nunnes grew offended, because the Gardener came not -to his dayly labour.</p> - -<p>Well may you imagine that <i>Massetto</i> was no misse-proud man now, -to be thus advanced 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 -behaviour pleased her so well, as it procured his daily repairing thither; -and acquainted her with such familiar conversation, as shee would have -condemned in the Nuns her daughters, but that they were wise enough -to keepe it from her. Now began <i>Massetto</i> to consider with himselfe, that -he had undertaken a taske belonging to great <i>Hercules</i>, in giving contentment -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.</p> - -<p>Madam, I have often heard it said, that one Cocke may doe service to -ten severall Hennes, but ten men can (very hardly) even with all their best -endeavour, give full satisfaction every way to one woman; and yet I am -tied to content nine, which is farre beyond the compasse of my power to -doe. Already have I performed so much Garden and Chamber-worke, -that I confesse my selfe starke tired, and can travaile 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 served there dumbe; being stricken into admiration, and accounting -it almost a miracle, saide. How commeth this to passe? I verily beleeved -thee to be dumbe. Madam (quoth <i>Massetto</i>) so I was indeed, but not by -Nature; onely I had a long lingering sicknesse, which bereft me of speech, -and which I have not onely recovered againe this night, but shall ever remaine -thankfull to you for it.</p> - -<p>The Abbesse verily credited his answer, demanding what he meant, in -saying, that he did service to nine? Madam, quoth he, this were a dangerous -question, and not easily answered before all the eight Sisters. Upon -this reply, the Abbesse plainly perceived, 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 <i>Massetto</i> should -depart, but to keepe him still about the Nunnes businesse, because the -Monastery should not be scandalized by him. And the <i>Fac-totum</i> being -dead a little before, his strange recovery of speech revealed, and some -things else more neerely concerning them: by generall consent, & with -the good liking of <i>Massetto</i>, he was created the <i>Fac-totum</i> of the Monasterie.</p> - -<p>All the neighbouring people dwelling thereabout, who knew <i>Massetto</i> -to be dumbe, by fetching home wood daily from the Forrest, and divers -employments in other places; were made to beleeve that by the Nunnes -devoute prayers and discipline, as also the merits of the Saint, in whose -honour the Monastery was built and erected, <i>Massetto</i> had his long restrained -speech restored, and was now become their sole <i>Fac-totum</i>, having -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 never talkt of, till after the death of the Ladie Abbesse, -when <i>Massetto</i> beganne to grow in good yeares, and desired, to returne -home to his Native abiding, which (within a while after) was granted -him.</p> - -<p>Thus <i>Massetto</i>, 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, having (by his wit and ingenious -apprehension) made such a benefit of his youthfull years, that now -he merrily tooke ease in his age.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="A_Querry_of_the_Stable_belonging_to_Agilulffo_King_of_the_Lombards_found" id="A_Querry_of_the_Stable_belonging_to_Agilulffo_King_of_the_Lombards_found"><i>A Querry of the Stable, belonging to</i> Agilulffo; <i>King of the Lombards, found -the meanes of accesse to the Queenes bed, without any knowledge or consent -in her. This being secretly discovered by the King, and the party knowne, he -gave 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.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The second Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is signified, the providence of a wise man, when he shall have reason -to use revenge. And the cunning craft of another, when hee compasseth -meanes to defend himselfe from perill.</i></h4> - - -<p>When the Novell of <i>Philostratus</i> was concluded, which made some -of the Ladies blush, and the rest to smile: it pleased the Queene, -that Madam <i>Pampinea</i> 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 (neverthelesse) make -shew of knowing and understanding such things, as neither they are able -to doe, nor appertaine to them: whereby they will sometimes reprehend -other mens errors, and such faults as they have unwillingly 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 <i>Massetto</i>; and yet hee went beyond -a King, that thought himselfe to be a much wiser man.</p> - -<p><i>Agilulffo</i>, King of <i>Lombardie</i>, -according as his Predecessours -had done before him, made the -principall seate of his Kingdome, -in the Citie of <i>Pavia</i>, having embraced -in mariage, <i>Tendelinga</i>, the -late left widdow of <i>Vetario</i>, who -likewise had beene King of the -<i>Lombards</i>; a most beautifull, wise -and vertuous Lady, but made -unfortunate 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 providence 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 -servile condition, had endued him with so much understanding, as to -know infallibly, that his affection was mounted, beyond the compasse of -conveniencie; wisely hee concealed it to himselfe, not acquainting any -one therewith, or daring so much, as to discover it either by lookes, or -any other affectionate behaviour.</p> - -<p>And although hee lived utterly hopelesse, of ever attaining to his -hearts desires; yet notwithstanding, hee proudly gloried, that his love -had soared so high a pitch, as to be enamoured of a Queene. And dayly, -as the fury of his flame encreased; so his carriage was farre above his fellowes -and companions, in the performing of all such serviceable duties, -as any way he imagined might content the Queene. Whereon ensued, -that whensoever shee roade abroad to take the ayre, shee used 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 gave dayly his due attendance: so that, to touch -the Stirrope, but (much more) to put her foote into it, or touch any part -of her garments, he thought it the onely heaven on earth.</p> - -<p>But, as we see it oftentimes come to passe, that by how much the lower -hope declineth, so much the higher love ascendeth; even so fell it out -with this poore Querry; for, most irkesome was it to him, to endure the -heavy waight of his continuall oppressions, not having any hope at all of -the very least mitigation. And being utterly unable to relinquish his love -divers times he resolved on some desperate conclusion, which might yet -give the world an evident testimony, that he dyed for the love he bare to -the Queene. And upon 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 missive of his love; 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.</p> - -<p>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, -under 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 usuall habit was of the King, when he came to keepe companie with -his Queene: he hid himselfe divers 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 using 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 observed.</p> - -<p>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 conveighed -away thence with him, being provided 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 adventures upon -his lives perill. Twice hee knockt softly at the doore, which a wayting -woman immediately opened, and receyving the Light, went forth -into the Gallery, while the supposed King, was conversing with the -Queene.</p> - -<p>Alas good Queene, heere is sinne committed, without any guiltie -thought in thee, as (within a while after) it plainely appeared. For, the -Querry having compassed what he most coveted, 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, unheard or discerned by any of his -fellowes, divers 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 mervaile of the drowsie wayting woman, who was never -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 Majestie was become more pleasantly disposed, whereat the -Queene began not a little to mervaile. Now trust mee Sir, quoth shee, -this hath been a long wished, and now most welcome alteration, vouchsafing -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.</p> - -<p>The King hearing these words, sodainly presumed, that by some counterfeit -person or other, the Queene had been this night beguiled: wherefore -(very advisedly) hee considered, that in regard the party was unknowne -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 have answered -and sworne; I came not hither this night, till now. Whereupon -many dangers might ensue, to the dishonour and prejudice of the Queene; -beside, hir error being discovered to hir, might afterward be an occasion, -to urge a wandring in her appetite, and to covet 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 discover, 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 only desire -you to have 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.</p> - -<p>His blood boyling with rage and distemper, by such a monstrous injurie -offered him; he wrapt his night-mantle about him, and leaving his -Chamber, imagining, that whatsoever he was, needes he must be one of -his owne house: he tooke a light in his hand, and convayed it into a little -Lanthorne, purposing to be resolved 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 divers beds. Now, this was his conceite, that whosoever 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 discovering 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.</p> - -<p>At last he came to the lodging of the man indeede, that had so impudently -usurped his place, who could not as yet sleepe, for joy of his atchieved -adventure. 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 discovered his agony. And although many considerations -were in his braine, yet because he saw that the King was unarmed, 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, -whereby to gather a grounded probability; untill 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.</p> - -<p>Neverthelesse, 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 used 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; perceived plainely (being a subtill ingenious fellow) for -what intent he was thus marked. Wherefore, without any longer dallying, -up he rose, and taking a paire of sheares, wherewith they used 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 perceived by any -one of them, quietly he laide him downe againe.</p> - -<p>In the morning, when the King was risen, he gave command that before -the Pallace gates were opened, all his whole Family should come -before him, as instantly his will was fulfilled. Standing all uncovered 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 have their -lockes cut, all after one and the selfe same manner; marvailing 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 deject or -common understanding. 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 revenge: but rather (by way of -admonition) to let the offender know in a word, that he was both noted -and observed. 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.</p> - -<p>Some other turbulent spirited man, no imprisonments, tortures, examinations, -and interrogatories, could have served 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 upon the very least babling rumor. Such therefore as heard the Kings -words, few though they were, yet truly wise; marvelled much at them, and -by long examinations among themselves, questioned, but came far short -of his meaning; the man onely excepted, whom indeede they concerned, -and by whom they were never discovered, so long as the King lived, neither -did he dare at any time after, to hazard his life in the like action, under -the frownes or favour of Fortune.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Under_colour_of_Confession_and_of_a_most_pure_conscience_a_faire_young_Gentlewoman" id="Under_colour_of_Confession_and_of_a_most_pure_conscience_a_faire_young_Gentlewoman"><i>Under colour of Confession, and of a most pure conscience, a faire young Gentlewoman, -being amourously affected to an honest man; induced a devoute and -solemne religious Friar, to advise her in the meanes (without his suspition or -perceiving) how to enjoy the benefit of her friend, and bring her desires to -their full effect.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The third Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Declaring, that the leude and naughty qualities of some persons, doe oftentimes -misguide good people, into very great and greevous errors.</i></h4> - - -<p>When Madam <i>Pampinea</i> 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, turning her selfe to -Madam <i>Philomena</i>, appointed her to follow next in order, and to hold -rancke with her discourse, as the rest had done before her: whereupon -<i>Philomena</i> graciously began in this manner.</p> - -<p>It is my purpose, to acquaint -you with a notable mockery, -which was performed (not in jest, -but earnest) by a faire Gentlewoman, -to a grave and devoute religious -Friar, which will yeelde so -much the more pleasure and recreation, -to every secular understander, -if but diligently he or shee -doe observe; how commonly -those religious persons (at least -the most part of them) like notorious -fooles, are the inventers of -new courses and customes, as thinking -themselves more wise and -skilful in all things then any other; -yet prove to be of no worth or validity, -addicting the very best of -all their devises, to expresse their -owne vilenesse of minde, and fatten themselves in their sties, like to pampered -Swine. And assure your selves worthy Ladies, that I doe not tell -this Tale onely to follow the order enjoyned me; but also to informe you -that such Saint-like holy Sirs, of whom we are too opinative and credulous, -may be, yea, and are (divers 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.</p> - -<p>In our owne City (more full of craft and deceit, then love or faithfull -dealing) there lived 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 Novell, I meane not to make manifest, albeit I know them, -because some are yet living, and thereby may be scandalized; and therefore -it shall suffice to passe them over 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 lived by the making -and selling of Cloth: shee could not (because he was a Trades-man) take -downe the height of her minde; conceiving, that no man of meane condition -(how rich soever) was worthy to enjoy a Gentlewoman in marriage. -Observing moreover, that with all his wealth and treasure, he understood -nothing better, then to open skeines of yarne, fill shuttles, lay -webbes in Loomes, or dispute with his Spinsters, about their businesse.</p> - -<p>Being thus over-swayed with her proud opinion, shee would no longer -be embraced, or regarded by him in any manner, saving 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 love, 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 understand it, -neither by any womans close conveyed message, nor yet by Letters, as -fearing the perils which happen in such cases. But her eye observing his -daily walkes and resorts, gave her notice of his often conversing 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.</p> - -<p>Having considered with her selfe, what course was best to be observed -in this case; upon a day, apt and convenient, shee went to the Convent, -where he kept, and having caused him to be called, shee told him, that if -his leysure so served, 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.</p> - -<p>Holy Father, it is no more then convenient, that I should have recourse -to you, to be assisted by your help and councell, in a matter which -I will impart unto 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 have -it of him, he being a most rich man, and may very sufficiently affoord it. -In regard whereof, I love him equally as my selfe, and, setting aside my -best endeavours for him; I must tell you one thing, if I should do anything -contrary to his liking and honour, no woman can more worthily deserve death, -then my selfe. Understand then, good Father, that there is a man, whose -name I know not, but hee seemeth to be honest, and of good worth; -moreover (if I am not deceived) 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 never 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 mervaile, that -he is not now here.</p> - -<p>Let me tell you holy Sir, that such behaviours, doe many times lay bad -imputations upon very honest women, yet without any offence in them. -It hath often run in my minde, to let him have knowledge thereof by my -brethren: but afterward I considered, that men (many times) deliver -messages in such sort, as draw on very ungentle 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 priviledgeth 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 (even for our blessed Ladies sake) that you would give -him a friendly reprehension, and advise him, to use such unmanly 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.</p> - -<p>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, beleeved -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 usuall 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, giving 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 enjoyned her, shee promised to make her parents -bountifull benefactours to the Convent, 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.</p> - -<p>Within a short while after her departure, the Gentleman, of whom -she had made this counterfeit complaint, came thither, as was his usuall -manner, and having done his duty to the holy Father; they sate downe -together privately, falling out of one discourse into another. At the -length, the Frier (in very loving and friendly sort) mildly reproved him, -for such amorous glaunces, and other pursuites, which (as he thought) -hee dayly used to the Gentlewoman, according to her owne speeches. -The Gentleman mervailed greatly thereat, as one that had never 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. Never make such admiration at the matter, neither waste -more words in these stout denials, because they cannot serve thy turne: -I tell thee plainely, I heard it not from any neighbours, but even 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 under the seale of absolute assurance) that -she is the onely woman of the world, who (in my true judgement) doth -hate and abhorre all such base behaviour. Wherefore, in regard of thine -owne honour, as also not to vexe & prejudice so vertuous a Gentlewoman: -I pray thee refrain such idlenes henceforward, & suffer hir to live in peace.</p> - -<p>The Gentleman, being a little wiser then his ghostly Father, perceived -immediatly (without any further meditating on the matter) the notable -pollicie of the woman: whereupon, making somewhat bashfull appearance -of any error already committed; hee said, hee would afterward be -better advised. 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 observe, when hee should walke that -way: And seeing him comming, she shewed her selfe so joyfull, and gracious -to him, as he easily understood, whereto the substance of the holy -Fathers chiding tended. And, from that time forward, hee used dayly, -though in covert manner (to the no little liking of the Gentlewoman -and himselfe) to make his passage through that streete, under colour of -some important occasions there, concerning him.</p> - -<p>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 convenient 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 perceiving, sorrowfully demanded -of her, what new accident had happened? Holy Father (quoth shee) no -novell accident, but onely your wicked and ungracious friend, by whom -(since I was here with you, yea, no longer agoe then yesterday) I have -beene so wronged, as I verily beleeve that hee was borne to be my mortall -enemie, and to make me doe something to my utter disgrace for -ever; 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 abusively?</p> - -<p>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 evill -part, to be contraried in his wanton humours, hath (meerely in despight) -walked seaven times in a day by my doore, whereas formerly, -he never used it above 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 even -yesterday, (as I tolde you) he sent a woman to me, one of his <i>Pandoraes</i>, -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 grievously offended, -as had it not beene for my due respect and feare of God, and next -the sacred reverence I beare to you my ghostly Father; doubtlesse, I had -done some wicked deede. Neverthelesse, happily I withstood it, and will -neither say or doe any thing in this case, till first I have made it knowne -to you.</p> - -<p>Then I called to minde, that having redelivered 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 beleeve, that I had received -them (as I have heard such kind of women use to doe sometimes) and in -anger I snatcht them from her, and have brought them hither to you, to -the end that you may give him them againe; and tell him, I have no neede -of any such things, thankes be to Heaven 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 just excuse, that if he will -not abstaine from thus molesting me, I will disclose it to my Husband, Father, -and Brethren, whatsoever shall ensue thereon: for I had rather he -should receive the injury (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 delivered; -and drawing foorth from under her gowne, a very faire and rich -purse, as also a Girdle of great worth, shee threw them into the Friers lap.</p> - -<p>He verily beleeving all this false report, being 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, not will any wise man reproove 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 leave off from further injurying -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.</p> - -<p>Now began she to appeare somewhat better comforted; & forbearing -to play on this string any longer, as wel knowing the covetousnes of him -and his equals, she said. Holy Father, some few nights past, me thought -in my sleepe, that divers 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 poverty, 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 deliver her -soule and the others, out of those fearfull flames; among your infinite other -devout prayers, I would have you to say the fortie Masses of S. <i>Gregory</i>, -as a meanes for their happy deliverance, 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 devotion: -and when he had given her his benediction, home she departed.</p> - -<p>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 behaviour 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 utterly -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 ever saw them till now.</p> - -<p>The Gentleman, seeming as if he were much ashamed, saide. Truely -Father I do know them, and confesse that I have done ill, and very greatly -offended: but now I will sweare unto you, seeing I understande how -firmely she is affected, that you shall never heare any more complaints of -me. Such were his vowes and protestations, as in the end the ghostly Father -gave him both the Purse and Girdle: then after he had preached, & -severely conjured him, never more to vexe her with any gifts at all, and -he binding himselfe thereto by a solemne promise, he gave him license to -depart. Now grew the Gentleman very jocond, being so surely certified -of his Mistresses love, 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 receyved from her, whereof she was extraordinarily joyfull, -because her devices grew still better and better; nothing now wanting, -but her husbands absence, upon some journey from the City, for the full -effecting of her desire.</p> - -<p>Within a few dayes after, such an occasion hapned, as her husband of -necessity must journey to <i>Geneway</i>; and no sooner was hee mounted on -horsebacke, taking leave 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 just reason of my -anger, and full purpose to avoid all further molestation.</p> - -<p>Your friend I cannot terme him, but (questionles) a very divel of hell. -This morning, before the breake of day, having heard (but how, I know -not) that my husband was ridden to <i>Geneway</i>: got over the wall into my -Garden, and climbing up a tree which standeth close before my chamber -window, when I was fast asleepe, opened the Casement, and would have -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 never 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 never saw -him, or heard any tidings of him. Now judge you, holy Father, whether -these be honest courses, or no, and to be endured by any civil Gentlewoman; -neither would I so patiently have suffered this, but onely in my dutifull -reverence to you.</p> - -<p>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 divers times, whether she knew him so perfectly, that she did not 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 over-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 dishonour, and twice -already thou hast credited my counsell, let me now advise thee this last -time. Spare speech, or complaining to any other of thy friends, and leave -it to me, to try if I can overcome this unchained divel, 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 give thee leave to do, even what -thy heart will best tutor thee to. You see Sir (said shee) what manner of -man he is, yet would I not have you troubled or disobeyed, only I desire -to live without disturbance, which work (I beseech you) as best you may: -for I promise you, good Father, never to solicite you more uppon this -occasion: And so, in a pretended rage, shee returned backe from the -ghostly Father.</p> - -<p>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, -gave him the most injurious words that could be used to a man, calling -him disloyall, perjured, and a traitor. Hee who had formerly twice -perceived, how high the holy mans anger mounted, did nothing but expect -what he wold say; and, like a man extreamly perplexed, strove how -to get it from him, saying; Holy Father, how come you to be so heinously -offended? What have I done to incense you so strangely? Heare mee -dishonest wretch answered the Frier, listen what I shall say unto 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? Wheresoever 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 upon urgent necessity.</p> - -<p>After a little curbing in of his wrath, somewhat in a milder strain, thus -he proceeded. Because the Gentlewomans husband is journeyed to <i>Geneway</i>, -proves this a ladder to your hope, that to embrace her in your -armes, you must climbe over the Garden wall, like a treacherous robber -in the night season, mount up a tree before her Chamber window, open -the Casement, as hoping to compasse that by importunity, which her -spotlesse chastity will never permit. There is nothing in the world, that -possibly she can hate more then you, and yet you will love 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 loving admonishments -might have 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 injuries 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 have given her free license, if ever heereafter you offer to attempt -her any more, to make her complaint before her Brethren, which -will redound to your no meane danger.</p> - -<p>The Gentleman, having wisely collected his Love-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 misbehaviour of his. And being gone from him, followed -the instructions given in her complaint, by climbing over 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.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="A_yong_Scholler_named_Felice_enstructed_Puccio_di_Rinieri_how_to_become" id="A_yong_Scholler_named_Felice_enstructed_Puccio_di_Rinieri_how_to_become"><i>A yong Scholler, named</i> Felice, <i>enstructed</i> Puccio di Rinieri, <i>how to become -rich in a very short time. While</i> Puccio <i>made experience of the instructions -taught him;</i> Felice <i>obtained the favour of his Daughter.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The fourth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is declared, what craft and subtilty some wily wits can devise, to deceive -the simple, and compasse their owne desires.</i></h4> - - -<p>After that <i>Philomena</i> had finished -her Tale, she sate still; -and <i>Dioneus</i> with faire and pleasing -Language, commended the -Gentlewomans quaint cunning, -but smiled at the Confessors witlesse -simplicity. Then the <i>Queen</i>, -turning with chearefull looks towards -<i>Pamphilus</i>, commaunded -him to continue on their delight; -who gladly yeelded, and thus began. -Madame, many men there -are, who while they strive 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.</p> - -<p>According as I have heard it reported, neere to Saint <i>Brancazio</i>, there -dwelt an honest man, and some-what rich, who was called <i>Puccio di Rinieri</i>, -and who addicted all his paines and endeavours to Alchimy: wherefore, -he kept no other family, but onely a widdowed daughter, and a servant; -and because he had no other Art or exercise, hee used 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 <i>Monna Isabetta</i>, -aged not above 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 -have done, but when she communed or jested with any body, she would -talke of nothing, but onely concerning the great vertue in Alchimy, extolling -it above all other Arts.</p> - -<p>Much about this season of the yeare, there returned a young Scholler -from <i>Paris</i>, named <i>Felice</i>, faire of complexion, comely of person, ingeniously -witted, and skilfully learned, who (soone after) grew into familiarity -with <i>Puccio</i>: now because he could resolve him in many doubts, depending -on his profession of Alchimy, (himselfe having onely practise, -but no great learning) he used many questions to him, shewed him very -especiall matters of secrecy, entertaining him often to dinners and suppers, -whensoever he pleased to come and converse with him; and his -daughter likewise, perceiving with what favour her Father respected him, -became the more familiar with him, allowing him good regard and reverence.</p> - -<p>The young man continuing his resort to the House of <i>Puccio</i>, and observing -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 save anothers labour, supply them by his best -endeavours. Thus not alwayes carrying his eyes before him, but using -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 observing the same, as occasion first smiled on him, and allowed -him favourable opportunity, so did hee impart his intention to -her.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Puccio</i> (by a long continued -custome) used to watch well neere all the night, as commonly he did, each -night after other, never stirring foorth of the roomes, which much abated -the edge of the young mans appetite. After infinite intricate revolvings, -wheeling about his busied braine, he thought it not altogether an <i>Herculian</i> -taske, to enjoy his happinesse in the house, and without any suspition, -albeit <i>Puccio</i> kept still within doores, and watched as hee was wont to -doe.</p> - -<p>Upon a day as he sate in familiar conference with <i>Puccio</i>, he began to -speake unto him in this manner; I have many times noted, kinde friend -<i>Puccio</i>, that all thy desire and endeavour 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 <i>Mighell, Scotus,</i> and -other his associates, very diligently observed and followed, yet were never -willing to instruct other men therein; whereby the misterie might be -drowned in oblivion, and prosecuted by none but onely great Lords, that -are able to undergoe it. But because thou art mine especiall friend, and I -have received from thee infinite kind favours; whereas I never 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. <i>Puccio</i> being very earnestly desirous to understand 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 unto him, never to disclose it to any person, except hee -gave his consent thereto; affirming beside, that it was a rarity, not easie -to be comprehended by very apprehensive judgements. Well (quoth -<i>Felice</i>) seeing thou hast made me such a sound and solemne promise, I will -make it knowne unto thee.</p> - -<p>Know then friend <i>Puccio</i>, the Philosophers do hold, that such as covet -to become rich indeed, must understand 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 even as rich as now thou art; but -thou shalt plainly perceive, that the very grosest substance, which hitherto -thou hast seene, all of them shal be made pure golde, and such as afterward -thou makest, shall be more certaine, then to go or come with <i>Aqua -fortis</i>, 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, -he must give very carefull attendance, wholly abstaining from sleepe, slumbering, -or so much as nodding all that while.</p> - -<p>Moreover, in some apt and convenient 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 upright on -thy feete, and leaning the reines of thy backe against it; thou must stande -stedfastly in that manner every night, without the least motion or stirring, -untill the breake of day appeareth, and thine eyes still uppon the Furnace -fixed, to keepe ever in memory, the true order which I have prescribed. -So soone as the morning is seene, thou mayst (if thou wilt) walke, or rest -a little upon thy bed, and afterward go about thy businesse, if thou have -any. Then go to dinner, attending readily till the evenings approach, preparing -such things as I will readily set thee downe in writing, without -which there is not any thing to bee done; and then returne to the same -taske againe, not varying a jot from the course directed. Before the time -be fully expired, thou shalt perceive many apparant signes, that the stone -is still in absolute forwardnesse, but it will bee utterly lost if thou fayle in -the least of all the observances. And when the experience hath crowned -thy labour, thou art sure to have the Philosophers stone, and thereby -shalt be able to enrich all, and worke wonders beside.</p> - -<p><i>Puccio</i> instantly replied. Now trust me Sir, there is no 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 -favour, in helping to direct the Furnace and Table, according as you imagine -most convenient) 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 understood -sufficiently, and what would ensue on his nightly watching in -that manner, returning him answer, that whatsoever 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 <i>Puccio</i> was to begin -his experience, and <i>Felice</i> to set forward upon his adventure. Concluded -it was, that every night the Scholler must come to Supper, partly to bee -a witnesse of his constant performance, but more especially for his owne -advantage.</p> - -<p>The place which <i>Puccio</i> had chosen, for his hopefull attaining to the -Philosophers Stone, was close to the Chamber where his daughter lay, -having no other separation or division, but an old ruinous tottring wall. -So that, when the Scholler was playing his prize, <i>Puccio</i> heard an unwonted -noise in the house, which he had never observed before, neither -knew the wall to have 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?</p> - -<p><i>Puccio</i> mervailing at this answer, knowing she never gave 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 have 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 have 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 deceived, 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 have care of -my selfe.</p> - -<p>To prevent any more of these nightly disturbances, they went to lodge -in another part of the house, where they continued out the time of <i>Puccioes</i> -paines, with equall contentment to them both, which made her divers -times say to <i>Felice</i>: 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 use of <i>Puccioes</i> folly, -and found benefit thereby, to keepe him out of wants, which is the -bane and overthrow of numberlesse good wits. And <i>Puccio</i> dying, before -the date of his limitted time, because hee failed of the Philosophers -Stone, <i>Isabetta</i> joyned in marriage with <i>Felice</i>, to make him amends for -enstructing her father, by which meanes he came to be her husband.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Ricciardo_surnamed_the_Magnifico_gave_a_Horse_to_Signior_Francesco_Vergellisi" id="Ricciardo_surnamed_the_Magnifico_gave_a_Horse_to_Signior_Francesco_Vergellisi">Ricciardo, <i>surnamed the Magnifico, gave a Horse to</i> Signior Francesco Vergellisi, -<i>upon condition, that (by his leave 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.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The fifth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is described the frailety of some Women, and folly of such Husbands, as -leave them alone to their owne disposition.</i></h4> - - -<p><i>Pamphilus</i> having ended the -Novell of <i>Puccio</i> the Alchimist, -the Queene fixing her eye -on Madam <i>Eliza</i>, gave order, -that shee should succeede with -hers next. When shee looking -somewhat more austerely, then -any of the rest, not in any spleen, -but as it was her usuall manner, -thus began. The World containeth -some particular people -who doe beleeve (because themselves -know something) that others -are ignorant in all things; -who for the most part, while they -intend to make a scorne of other -men, upon the proofe, doe finde -themselves to carry away the -scorne. And therefore I account -it no meane follie in them, who (upon 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 perceive it more -apparantly, by an accident happening to a Knight of <i>Pistoia</i>, as you shall -heare by me related.</p> - -<p>In the Towne of <i>Pistoia</i>, bordering upon <i>Florence</i>, there lived not long -since, a Knight named Signior <i>Francesco</i>; descended of the linage or family -of the <i>Vergellisi</i>, a man very rich, wise, and in many things provident, -but gripple, covetous, and too close handed, without respect to -his worth and reputation. He being called to the Office of <i>Podesta</i> in the -City of <i>Millaine</i>, furnished himselfe with all things (in honourable manner) -beseeming such a charge; only, a comely horse (for his owne saddle) -excepted, which he knew not by any meanes how to compasse, so loath -he was to lay out money, albeit his credit much depended thereon.</p> - -<p>At the same time, there lived in <i>Pistoya</i> likewise, a young man, named -<i>Ricciardo</i>, derived 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 <i>Magnifico</i>, who had long time -affected, yea, and closely courted, (though without any advantage or -successe) the Lady and Wife of <i>Signior Francesco</i>, who was very beautifull, -vertuous, and chaste. It so chanced, that this <i>Magnifico</i> had the very -choysest and goodliest ambling Gelding in all <i>Tuscanie</i>, which he loved -dearely, for his faire forme, and other good parts. Upon a flying rumor -throughout <i>Pistoria</i>, that he daily made love to the fore-said Lady: some -busie body, put it into the head of <i>Signior Francesco</i>, that if he pleased to -request the Gelding, the <i>Magnifico</i> would frankly give it him, in regard -of the love he bare to his Wife.</p> - -<p>The base minded Knight, coveting to have the Horse, and yet not to -part with any money, sent for the <i>Magnifico</i>, desiring to buy his faire -Gelding of him, because he hoped to have him of free gift. The <i>Magnifico</i> -hearing his request, was not a little joyfull hereof, and thus answered; -Sir, if you would give 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 upon this condition, that before you have -him delivered, 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. <i>Signior Francesco</i>, wholly -conducted by his base avaricious desire, and meaning to make a scorne -at the <i>Magnifico</i>, made answere; that he was well contented, to let him -speake with her when he would, and leaving him in the great Hall of the -house, he went to his Wives Chamber, and told her, how easily he might -enjoy the Horse; 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 covetousnesse should serve as a cloake, to cover any unfitting -speeches, which her chaste eares could never endure to heare: neverthelesse, -being to obey her Husbands will, shee promised to doe it, -and followed him downe into the House, to heare what the <i>Magnifico</i> -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.</p> - -<p>Worthy Lady, it appeareth to me for a certainty, that you are so truly -wise, as you have (no doubt) a long while since perceived, what unfained -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 utterly -needlesse, to let you understand by words, how faithfull the love is I beare -you, were it not much more fervent and constant, then ever 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 enjoy 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 love you perpetually. Whereby you may rest confidently perswaded, -that you enjoy not any thing, how poore or precious soever 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 have, or for ever shall be mine.</p> - -<p>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 service, as consisteth in -mine ability to performe, and in your courteous favour to accept, yea, if -it were to travaile 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 adventure (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 -servant, 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 divine beauty enflamed -mine affections, even so it extended such a mercifull qualification, as exceeded -all my hope, but not the halfe part of your pitty.</p> - -<p>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 have I committed, -in being so unmercifull to my <i>Magnifico</i>. Repentance then serves -to no purpose, but you must answere for such unkinde cruelty. Wherefore, -to prevent 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, hovering and haunting about your bed; let all these -move you to milde mercy, and spill not life, when you may save it.</p> - -<p>So the <i>Magnifico</i> ceasing, with teares streaming from his eyes, and -sighes breaking from his heart, he sate still in exspectation of the Ladies -answere, who made neither long or short of the matter, neither Tilts not -Tourneying, nor many lost mornings and evenings, nor infinite other -such like offices, which the <i>Magnifico</i> (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 love: Moved now in this very houre, by these solemne -protestations, or rather most prevailing asseverations; she began to finde -that in her, which (before) she never felt, namely Love. And although -(to keepe her promise made to her husband) shee spake not a word: yet -her heart heaving, her soule throbbing, sighes intermixing, and complexion -altering, could not hide her intended answere to the <i>Magnifico</i>, -if promise had beene no hinderance to her will. All this while the <i>Magnifico</i> -sate as mute as she, and seeing she would not give him any answere -at all; he could not chuse but wonder thereat, yet at length perceived, -that it was thus cunningly contrived by her husband. Notwithstanding, -observing 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 motives to advance 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 uttered the words, he spake in this manner.</p> - -<p><i>Magnifico</i>, 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. Neverthelesse, if heretofore -I have seemed cruell and unkinde to thee, I would not have thee -thinke, that my heart was any way guilty of my outward severity; but did -evermore love thee, and held thee dearer then any man living. 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 just guerdon of thy -constant love, which long thou hast, and still doest beare to me. Wherefore -comfort thy selfe, and dwell upon this undoubted hope, because <i>Signior -Francesco</i> my husband, is to be absent hence for many dayes, being -chosen <i>Podesta</i> at <i>Millaine</i>, as thou canst not chuse but heare, for it is -common through the Country.</p> - -<p>I know (for my sake) thou hast given him thy goodly ambling Gelding, -and so soone as hee is gone, I promise thee upon my word, and by -the faithfull love I beare thee: that I will have further conference with -thee, and let thee understand somewhat more of my minde. And because -this is neither fitting time nor place, to discourse on matters of such -serious moment; observe heereafter, as a signall, when thou seest my -crimson skarfe hanging in the window of my Chamber, which is upon -the Garden side; that evening (so soone as it is night) come to the Garden -gate, with wary respect, that no eye doe discover thee, and there thou -shalt finde me walking, and ready to acquaint thee with other matters, according -as I shall finde occasion.</p> - -<p>When the <i>Magnifico</i>, 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 joy, for this your gracious and welcome -answere; that my sences so fayle mee, and all my faculties quite forsake -me, as I cannot give you such thankes as I would. And if I could speake -equally to my desire, yet the season sutes not therewith, neither were -it convenient that I should be so troublesome to you. Let me therefore -humbly beseech you, that the desire I have to accomplish your will -(which words availe not to expresse) may remaine in your kinde consideration. -And, as you have 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, under -the protection of your gracious pardon, I to give over speech, and you -to attend your worthy husband.</p> - -<p>Notwithstanding all that hee had spoken, yet shee replied not one -word, wherefore the <i>Magnifico</i> arose, and returned to the Knight, who -went to meete him, saying in a loude laughter. How now man? have I -not kept my promise with thee? No Sir, answered the <i>Magnifico</i>, for you -promised I should speake with your wife, and you have made mee talke -to a marble Statue. This answere was greatly pleasing to the Knight, -who, although hee had an undoubted 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 <i>Magnifico</i>, but if I had -thought, that no better successe would have ensued on the bargaine; -without your motion for the horse, I would have given him you: and I -am sorie that I did not, because now you have bought my horse, and yet I -have not sold him. The Knight laughed heartily at this answere, and being -thus provided of so faire a beast, he rode on his journey to <i>Millaine</i>, -and there entred into his authority of <i>Podesta</i>.</p> - -<p>The Lady remained now in liberty at home, considering on the <i>Magnificoes</i> -words, and likewise the Gelding, which (for her sake) was given 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 under her Colours. The Story saith, that -among many of her much better meditations, she was heard to talke thus -idely to herselfe. What doe I meane? Wherefore is my youth? The -olde miserable man is gone to <i>Millaine</i>, and God knoweth when hee -comes backe againe, ever, or never. 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. Upon these un-Lady-like private consultations, -whether the window shewed the signall or no; it is no matter belonging -to my charge: I say, husbands are unwise, to graunt such ill advantages, -and wives much worse, if they take hold of them, onely judge -you the best, and so the Tale is ended.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Ricciardo_Minutolo_fell_in_love_with_the_Wife_of_Philippello_Fighinolfi" id="Ricciardo_Minutolo_fell_in_love_with_the_Wife_of_Philippello_Fighinolfi">Ricciardo Minutolo <i>fell in love with the Wife of</i> Philippello Fighinolfi, -<i>and knowing her to be very jealous of her Husband, gave her to understand, -that he was greatly enamoured of his wife, and had appointed to meete her -privately in a Bathing house, on the next day following: Where she hoping to -take him tardie with his close compacted Mistresse, found herselfe to be deceived -by the said</i> Ricciardo.</a></h4> - -<h2>The sixth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Declaring, how much perseverance, and a couragious spirit is availeable in love.</i></h4> - - -<p>No more remained to be spoken by Madame <i>Eliza</i>, but the cunning -of the <i>Magnifico</i>, being much commended by all the company: the -Queene commanded Madame <i>Fiammetta</i>, to succeede next in order with -one of her Novels, who (smilingly) made answere that she would, and -began thus. Gracious Ladies, me thinkes wee have spoken enough already, -concerning our owne Citie, which as it aboundeth copiously in all -commodities, so is it an example also to every convenient purpose. And -as Madam <i>Eliza</i> hath done, by recounting occasions happening in another -World, so must we now leape a little further off, even so farre as <i>Naples</i>, -to see how one of those Saint-like Dames, that nicely seemes to shun -Loves 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 error is committed, how to be discreete in keeping -it from publike knowledge.</p> - -<p>In the City of <i>Naples</i>, it being -of great antiquity, and (perhaps) -as pleasantly scituated, as any -other City in all <i>Italie</i>, there -dwelt sometime a young Gentleman, -of noble parentage, and -well knowne to be wealthy, named -<i>Ricciardo Minutolo</i>, 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 <i>Neapolitane</i> women else, in -feature, favour, and the choysest -perfections, shee being named -Madam <i>Catulla</i>, wife to as gallant -a young Gentleman, called <i>Philippello Fighinolfi</i>, who most dearely he loved -beyond all other, for her vertue and admired chastity.</p> - -<p><i>Ricciardo</i> loving this Madam <i>Catulla</i>, and using 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 unlikely 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 advised by some of his best -friends, utterly to abstaine from this fond pursuite, because his hopes were -meerely in vaine, and Madam <i>Catulla</i> prized nothing more precious to -her in the World, then unstayned loyaltie to her Husband; and yet shee -lived in such extreme jealousie of him, as fearing least some bird flying in -the Ayre, should snatch him from her.</p> - -<p><i>Ricciardo</i> not unacquainted with this her jealous humour, as well by -credible hearing thereof, as also by daily observation; 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 ever enjoying -the love of Madam <i>Catulla</i>, because he was now become the servant -to another Gentlewoman, pretending (in her honour) to performe -many worthy actions of Armes, Jousts, Tournaments, and all such like -noble exercises, as he was wont to doe for Madam <i>Catulla</i>. So that almost -all the people of <i>Naples</i>, but especially Madam <i>Catulla</i>, became verily perswaded, -that his former fruitlesse love to her was quite changed, and the -new elected Lady had all the glory of his best endeavours, persevering 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) gave her the dayes salutations, according as -he chanced to see her, or meete her.</p> - -<p>It came to passe, that it being now the delightfull Summer season, -when all Gentlemen and Gentlewomen used to meete together (according -to a custome long observed in that Countrey) sporting along on the -Sea Coast, dining and supping there very often. <i>Ricciardo Minutolo</i> happened -to heare, that Madam <i>Catulla</i> (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 <i>Catulla</i>, where he pretended no willing -long time of tarrying; but that <i>Catulla</i> and the other Ladies were faine to -entreate him, discoursing of his love to his new elected Mistresse: which -<i>Minutolo</i> graced with so solemne a countenance, as it ministred much -more matter of conference, all coveting to know what shee was.</p> - -<p>So farre they walked, and held on this kinde of discoursing, as every -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 <i>Catulla</i> -having few females left with her, stayed behind with <i>Minutolo</i>, who suddenly -shot foorth a word, concerning her husband <i>Philippello</i>, & of his loving -another woman beside her selfe. She that was overmuch jealous before, -became so suddenly set on fire, to know what shee was of whom <i>Minutolo</i> -spake; as shee sate silent a long while, till being able to containe no -longer, shee entreated <i>Ricciardo</i>, even for the Ladies sake, whose love he -had so devoutly embraced, to resolve her certainely, in this strange alteration -of her Husband; whereunto thus he answered.</p> - -<p>Madam, you have so straitly conjured me, by urging 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, untill you have seene by effect, that which I have tolde -you proveth to be true: and when you please, I will instruct you how your -selfe shall see it. The Lady was not a little joyfull, to be thus satisfied in -her Husbands follie, and constantly crediting his words to be true, shee -sware a solemne oath, that no one alive should ever know it. So stepping -a little further aside, because no listening eare should heare him, thus he -beganne.</p> - -<p>Lady, if I did love you now so effectually, as heretofore I have done, -I should be very circumspect, in uttering any thing which I imagined -might distaste you. I know not whether your Husband <i>Philippello</i>, were -at any time offended; because I affected you, or beleeved, that I received -any kindnesse from you: but whether it were so or no, I could never discerne -it by any outward apparance. But now awaiting for the opportunity -of time, which he conceived should affoord me the least suspition; -he seekes to compasse that, which (I doubt) he feares I would have done -to him, in plaine termes Madam, to have his pleasure of my wife. And as -by some carriages I have observed, within few dayes past, he hath solicited -and pursued his purpose very secretly, by many Ambassages, and other -meanes, as (indeede) I have learned from her selfe, and alwayes shee hath -returned in such answers, as shee received by my direction.</p> - -<p>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 have with -her; and shee tolde me it was another pursuite of <i>Philippello Fighinolfi</i>, who -(quoth shee) upon such answers as you have caused me to send him from -time to time, perhaps doth gather some hope of prevailing in the ende, -which maketh him still to importune me as he doth. And now he adventureth -so farre, as to understand my finall intention, having 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 enjoy -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 -frivolous answers; I would (long ere this) have sent him such a message, -as should have beene little to his liking.</p> - -<p>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 perceive, how well -you are rewarded, for the faithfull and loyall love you beare him, and for -which I was even 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) approve 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 themselves, in regard of the heates violence; with which answere -the woman returned very jocondly. Let me now tell you Lady, I hope -you have better opinion of my wit, then any meaning in me, to send my -wife thither; I rather did it to this ende, that having acquainted you with -his treacherous intent, you should supply my wives place, by saving both -his reputation and your owne, and frustrating his unkind purpose to me. -Moreover, upon the view of his owne delusion, wrought by my wife in -meere love to you, he shall see his foule shame, and your most noble care, -to keepe the rites of marriage betweene you still unstained.</p> - -<p>Madame <i>Catulla</i>, having heard this long and unpleasing report; without -any consideration, either what he was that tolde the tale, or what a -treason he intended against her: immediatly (as jealous persons use to -doe) she gave 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 advised her, as being a matter of no difficulty. -But if he came, she would so shame and dishonour him, as no woman -whatsoever should better schoole him. <i>Ricciardo</i> 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 -revealing the matter to any living person, as shee had sworne upon her -faith.</p> - -<p>On the morrow morning, <i>Ricciardo</i> went to an auncient woman of his -acquaintance, who was the Mistresse of a Bathing-house, and there where -he had appointed Madame <i>Catulla</i>, that the Bath should be prepared for -her, giving her to understand the whole businesse, and desiring her to be -favourable 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 <i>Ricciardoes</i> 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 arrivall of Madame -<i>Catulla</i>. On the same day, as she had heard the speeches of <i>Ricciardo</i>, -and gave more credit to them then became her; shee returned home -to her house in wonderfull impatience. And <i>Philippello</i> her husband -came home discontentedly too, whose head being busied about some -worldly affaires, perhaps he looked not so pleasantly, neither used her so -kindly, as he was wont to doe. Which <i>Catulla</i> perceiving, shee was ten -times more suspicious then before, saying to herselfe. Now apparant -trueth doth disclose it selfe, my husbands head is troubled now with -nothing else, but <i>Ricciardoes</i> wife, with whom (to morrow) he purposeth -his meeting; wherein he shall be disappointed, if I live; taking no rest at -all the whole night, for thinking how to handle her husband.</p> - -<p>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 -<i>Philippello</i> were come thither as yet or no? The woman, being well instructed -by <i>Ricciardo</i>, answered: Are you shee that should meete him -heere. Yes, replied <i>Catulla</i>. Goe in then to him (quoth the woman) for -he is not farre off before you.</p> - -<p>Madame <i>Catulla</i>, who went to seeke that which she would not finde, -being brought vailed into the darke Chamber where <i>Ricciardo</i> was, entred -into the Bath, hoping to finde none other there but her husband, -and the custome of the Countrey, never disallowed such meetings of -men with their wives, 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 loving manner; -yet not daring to speake, least he should know her, but suffered him -to proceede in his owne error.</p> - -<p>Let passe the wanton follies passing betweene them, and come to -Madame <i>Catulla</i>, who finding it a fit and convenient 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 love, of -many wives to their husbands? I, a poore miserable Lady, who, for the -space of eight yeares now fully compleated, have loved 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 -<i>Catulla</i>, and not the wife of <i>Ricciardo</i>, trayterous and unfaithfull man, -as thou art. I am sure thou knowest my voyce, and I thinke it a thousand -yeares, untill wee may see each other in the light, to doe thee such -dishonour as thou justly deserveth, dogged, disdainefull, and villainous -wretch. By conceiving to have another woman in thy wanton embraces, -thou hast declared more joviall 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.</p> - -<p>What answere canst thou make, devill, and no man? What, have -my words smitten thee dumbe? Thou mayest (with shame enough) hold -thy peace, for with the face of a man, and love of an husband to his wife, -thou art not able to make any answere.</p> - -<p><i>Ricciardo</i> durst not speake one word, but still expressed his affable behaviour -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 byas from thy reckoning: for -I shall never imagine my selfe halfe satisfied, untill in the presence of -my parents, friends, and neighbours, I have revealed thy base behaviour. -Tell mee, treacherous man, am not I as faire, as the wife of <i>Ricciardo</i>? -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 <i>Ricciardo</i>, who loveth mee -beyond all other women in <i>Naples</i>, and yet could never vaunt, that I gave -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 revenge -soundly upon thee.</p> - -<p>The exclamations of the Lady were so tedious and irksome, that <i>Ricciardo</i> -perceiving, if she continued longer in these complaints, worse would -ensue thereon, then could be easily remedied: resolved to make himselfe -knowne to her, to reclaime her out of this violent extasie, and holding -her somewhat strictly, to prevent her escaping from him, he said. Madam, -afflict your selfe no further, for, what I could not obtaine by simply loving -you, subtilty hath better taught me, and I am your <i>Ricciardo</i>, which -she hearing, and perfectly knowing him by his voyce; shee would have -leapt out of the Bath, but shee could not, and to avoyde her crying out, -he layde his hand on her mouth, saying. Lady, what is done, cannot now -be undone, albeit you cried out all your lifetime. If you exclaime, or -make this knowne openly by any meanes; two unavoydable 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, avouching, that having corrupted you with -gold, and not giving you so much as covetously 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 beleeve the worst, then any goodnesse, -be it never so manifest. Next unto 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 live in any true contentment after. -Wherefore, joy 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 deceived. I have not beguiled -you, to take any honour from you, but onely declared, the faithfull -affection I beare you, and so shall doe for ever, as being your bounden -and most obedient servant; and as it is a long time agoe, since I dedicated -my selfe and all mine to your service, so hence-forth must I remaine -for ever. You are wise enough (I know) in all other things; then -shew your selfe not to be silly or simple in this.</p> - -<p><i>Ricciardo</i> uttered these words, teares streaming aboundantly downe -his cheekes, and Madame <i>Catulla</i> (all the while) likewise showred forth -her sorrowes equally to his, now, although she was exceedingly troubled -in minde, and saw what her owne jealous folly had now brought her to, -a shame beyond all other whatsoever: in the midst of her tormenting -passions, she considered on the words of <i>Ricciardo</i>, found good reason in -them, in regard of the unavoydable evils, whereupon shee thus spake. -<i>Ricciardo</i>, I know not how to beare the horrible injurie, and notorious -treason used by thee against me, grace and goodnesse having 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 devillish jealousie, -did conduct me. But certaine I am of one thing, that I shall never -see any one joyfull day, till (by one meanes or other) I be revenged on -thee. Thou hast glutted thy desire with my disgrace, let me therefore goe -from thee, never more to looke upon my wronged husband, or let any -honest woman ever see my face.</p> - -<p><i>Ricciardo</i> perceiving the extremity of her perplexed minde, used all -manly and milde perswasions, which possibly he could devise to doe, to -turne the torrent of this high tide, to a calmer course; as by outward shew -shee made apparance of, untill (in frightfull feares shunning every one -shee met withall, as arguments of her guiltinesse) shee recovered her -owne house, where remorse so tortured her distressed soule, that shee fell -into so fierce a melancholy, as never left her till shee died. Upon the report -whereof, <i>Ricciardo</i> becomming likewise a widdower, and grieving -extraordinarily for his haynous transgression, penitently betooke himselfe -to live in a wildernesse, where (not long after) he ended his dayes.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Thebaldo_Elisei_having_received_an_unkinde_repulse_by_his_beloved_departed" id="Thebaldo_Elisei_having_received_an_unkinde_repulse_by_his_beloved_departed">Thebaldo Elisei, <i>having received an unkinde repulse by his beloved, 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 unto -her. He delivered her Father from the danger of death, because it was -proved, that he had slaine</i> Thebaldo: <i>he made peace with his brethren, and -in the ende, wisely enjoyed his hearts desire.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The seaventh Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is signified the power of Love, and the diversity of dangers, whereinto -men may daily fall.</i></h4> - - -<p>So ceased <i>Fiammetta</i> her discourse, -being generally commended, -when the Queene, to -prevent the losse of time, commanded -<i>Æmillia</i> 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, recovered the kindnesse -of his Love, after he had -lost it.</p> - -<p>Sometime there dwelt in <i>Florence</i> -a young gentleman, named -<i>Thebaldo Elisei</i>, descended of a -noble House, who became earnestly -enamored of a Widdow, called <i>Hermelina</i>, the daughter to <i>Aldobrandino -Palermini</i>: well deserving, for his vertues and commendable -qualities, to enjoy of her whatsoever he could desire. Secretly they were -espoused together, but Fortune, the enemy to Lovers felicities, opposed -her malice against them, in depriving <i>Thebaldo</i> of those deare delights, -which sometime he held in free possession, and making him as a stranger -to her gracious favours. 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 unkindnesse so wisely to himselfe, as -no one could understand the reason of his sadnesse.</p> - -<p>After he had laboured by all hopefull courses, to obtaine that favour -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 endeavours -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 unhappinesse. Hereupon, storing himselfe with -such summes of money, as suddenly he could collect together, secretly he -departed from <i>Florence</i>, 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 travelled to <i>Ancona</i>, where he termed himselfe by the -name of <i>Sandolescio</i>. Repairing to a wealthy Merchant there, he placed -himselfe as his servant, and went in a Ship of his with him to <i>Cyprus</i>; his -actions and behaviour proved so pleasing to the Merchant, as not onely -he allowed him very sufficient wages, but also grew into such association -with him; as he gave the most of his affaires into his hands, which he guided -with such honest and discreete care, that he himselfe (in few yeeres -compasse) proved to be a rich Merchant, and of famous report.</p> - -<p>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 love, as coveting (above all things else) 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 <i>Cyprus</i>, which he himselfe had formerly made, in -honour of the love he bare to his Mistresse, and what delight he conceived, -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 live, except he had a sight of her once more, and therefore determined -on his returne to <i>Florence</i>. Having set all his affaires in due order, accompanied -with a servant of his onely, he passed to <i>Ancona</i>, where when -he was arrived, he sent his Merchandises to <i>Florence</i>, in name of the Merchant -of <i>Ancona</i>, who was his especiall friend and partner; travayling himselfe -alone with his servant, in the habite of a Pilgrime, as if he had beene -newly returned from <i>Jerusalem</i>.</p> - -<p>Being come to <i>Florence</i>, 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 -up, 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 marvelled not a little; knowing himselfe to be so transfigured, -both in body and habite, farre from the manner of common use -at his parting thence, as it was a difficult matter to know him: he stept -boldly to a Shooe-makers shop neere adjoining, and demanded the reason -of their wearing mourning. The Shoo-maker made answer thus; Sir, -those men are clad in mourning, because a brother of theirs, being named -<i>Thebaldo</i> (who hath beene absent hence a long while) about some fifteene -dayes since was slaine. And they having heard, by proofe made in -the Court of Justice, that one <i>Aldobrandino Palermini</i> (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.</p> - -<p><i>Thebaldo</i> wondered greatly hereat, imagining, that some man belike resembling -him in shape, might be slaine in this manner, and by <i>Aldobrandino</i>, -for whose misfortune he grieved marvellously. As concerning his -Mistresse, he understood that shee was living, 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 divers persons -over 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 have heard it assuredly, that the death of <i>Thebaldo Elisei</i>, hath -beene sufficiently approved by the Brethren, against <i>Aldobrandino Palermini</i>, -and he hath confessed the fact; whereupon the sentence is already -set downe in writing. But yet it behoveth us notwithstanding, to conceale -it very secretly, because if ever hereafter it should be knowne, that -we are they who murthered him, we shall be in the same danger, as now -<i>Aldobrandino</i> is.</p> - -<p>When <i>Thebaldo</i> 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 upon the testimony of as false witnesses) a man most innocent, -making him ready for the stroke of death. Next, he made a strict observation -in his soule, concerning the blinded severity 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 avouched (onely for ease of paine) in the place of a true confession, -yet thinking themselves (by doing so) to be the Ministers of God and Justice, -whereas indeede they are the Divels executioners of his wickednesse. -Lastly, converting his thoughts to <i>Aldobrandino</i>, the imagined murtherer -of a man yet living, infinite cares beleagured his soule, in devising -what might best be done for his deliverance.</p> - -<p>So soone as he was risen in the morning, leaving his servant 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) moved 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 up 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 <i>Constantinople</i>, and (doubtlesse) am conducted hither by the hand -of Heaven, to convert your teares into rejoycing, and to deliver your Father -from death. How is this? answered shee: If thou be of <i>Constantinople</i>, -and art but now arrived here; doest thou know who we are, either I, -or my Father?</p> - -<p>The Pilgrime discoursed to her, even 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 deliver her Father <i>Aldobrandino</i> from death, to doe it -speedily, because the time was very short. The Pilgrime appearing to be -a man of great holinesse, saide. Rise up Madam, refraine from weeping, -and observe attentively what I shall say; yet with this caution, that you -never reveale it to any person whatsoever. This tribulation whereinto -you are falne, (as by revelation I am faithfully informed) is for a grievous -sinne by you heretofore committed, whereof divine 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 recovery, 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 have 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 have already: but because -in revealing it yourselfe, it may touch you with the more true -compunction of soule; let us goe to the point indeede, and tell me, doe -you remember, that at any time you were married to an Husband, -or no?</p> - -<p>At the hearing of these words, shee breathed foorth a very vehement -sigh, and was stricken with admiration at this question, beleeving that not -any one had knowledge thereof. Howbeit, since the day of the supposed -<i>Thebaldoes</i> buriall, such a rumour ran abroade, by meanes of some speeches, -rashly dispersed by a friend of <i>Thebaldoes</i>, who (indeede) knew it; -whereupon shee returned him this answere. It appeareth to me (good -man) that divine ordinativation hath revealed unto 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 unfortunate young Gentleman, who (in secret) was my Husband, -and whose death is imposed on my Father. The death of him I -have the more bemoaned, because (in reason) it did neerely concerne -me, by shewing my selfe so savage and rigorous to him before his departure: -neverthelesse, let me assure you Sir, that neither his parting, long absence -from me, or his untimely death, never had the power to bereave -my heart of his remembrance.</p> - -<p>Madame, saide the Pilgrime, the unfortunate young Gentleman that -is slaine, did never love you; but sure I am, that <i>Thebaldo Elisei</i> loved -you dearely. But tell me, what was the occasion whereby you conceived -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 revealed -(under confession) how faithfully I affected him, and what private -familiarity had passed betweene us. When instantly he used such -dreadfull threatnings to me, and which (even yet) doe afflict my soule, -that if I did not abstaine, and utterly refuse him, the Divell would fetch -me quicke to Hell, and cast me into the bottome of his quenchlesse and -everlasting fire.</p> - -<p>These menaces were so prevailing with me, as I refused all further conversation -with <i>Thebaldo</i>, in which regard, I would receive 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, even 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 allowed -me one merry day, neither did I, or ever can love any man like unto -him.</p> - -<p>At these wordes the Pilgrime sighed, and then proceeded on againe -thus. Surely Madam, this one onely sin, may justly torment you, because -I know for a certainty, that <i>Thebaldo</i> never offered you any injury, since -the day he first became enamoured of you; and what grace or favour -you affoorded him, was your owne voluntary gift, and (as he tooke it) no -more then in modesty might well become you; for he loving you first, -you had beene most cruell and unkinde, if you should not have requited -him with the like affection. If then he continued so just and loyall to you, -as (of mine owne knowledge) I am able to say he did; what should move -you to repulse him so rudely? Such matters ought well to be considered -on before hand; for if you did imagine, that you should repente 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 unfitting thing for you to doe, except -you had gone with his consent?</p> - -<p>Now Madam, let me further give you to understand, 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 unseeming for me to doe it, -as it would appeare ugly 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 have done. In former passed times -such as professed Religion, were learned and most holy persons; but our -religious professours now adayes, and such as covet to be so esteemed; -have 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 devotion, 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 have their pride -more notoriously observed. And as the Angler bestoweth his best cunning, -with one line and baite to catch many fishes at one strike; even 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 whatsoever they doe or say, and herein they doe -most of all excercise themselves.</p> - -<p>And to the end, that my speeches may not savour of any untruth against -them; these men which I speake of, have 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 salvation of mens soules; these fresher -witted fellowes, covet after women & wealth, and employ all their paines -by their whispering confessions, and figures of painted fearefull examples, -to affright and terrifie unsetled 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 devotion, then any true compunction of heart, to escape severe -penances by them enjoyned: 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.</p> - -<p>I make not any doubt, but Almes-deedes and prayers, are very mighty, -and prevailing meanes, to appease heavens anger for some sinnes -committed; but if such as bestow them, did either see or know, to whom -they give them: they would more warily keepe them, or else cast them -before Swine, in regard they are altogether so unworthy of them. But -come we now to the case of your ghostly father, crying out in your eare, -that secret mariage was a most greevous sinne: Is not the breach thereof -farre greater. Familiar conversation betweene man and woman, is a concession -meerely naturall: but to rob, kill, or banish anyone, proceedeth -from the mindes malignity. That you did rob <i>Thebaldo</i>, your selfe hath -already sufficiently witnessed, by taking that from him, which with free -consent in mariage you gave 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 whosoever 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 seaven yeares in exile thorow the world; you -cannot denie, but that you were the onely occasion thereof. In all which -three severall actions, farre more capitally have you offended; then by -contracting of mariage in such clandestine manner.</p> - -<p>But let us see, whether <i>Thebaldo</i> deserved all these severall castigations, -or not. In trueth he did not, your selfe have confessed (beside that -which I know) that hee loved you more dearely then himselfe, and nothing -could be more honoured, magnified and exalted, then dayly you -were by him, above all other women whatsoever. 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, envying -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, understanding -truly what they are, and what nobility of nature God hath endued -man withall, farre above 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.</p> - -<p>This is so great a sinne, as the divine Justice (which in an equal ballance -bringeth all operations to their full effect) did purpose not to leave unpunished; -but, as you enforced against all reason, to take away <i>Thebaldo</i> -from your selfe: even so your Father <i>Aldobrandino</i>, without any occasion -given by <i>Thebaldo</i>, is in perill of his life, and you a partaker of his tribulation. -Out of which if you desire to be delivered, it is very convenient that -you promise one thing which I shall tell you, and may much better be by -you performed. Namely, that if <i>Thebaldo</i> doe at any time returne from -his long banishment, you shall restore him to your love, grace, and good -acceptation; accounting him in the selfe same degree of favour and private -entertainement, as he was at the first, before your wicked ghostly father -so hellishly incensed you against him.</p> - -<p>When the Pilgrime had finished his speeches, the Gentlewoman, who -had listened to them very attentively (because all the alleaged 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 undoubtedly, that the words which you have spoken -are true, and also I understand by your demonstration, what manner of -people some of those religious persons are, whom heretofore I have reputed -to be Saints, but find them now to be far otherwise. And to speake -truly, I perceive the fault to be great and grievous, wherein I have offended -against <i>Thebaldo</i>, and would (if I could) willingly make amends, even -in such manner as you have advised. But how is it possible to be done? -<i>Thebaldo</i> 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.</p> - -<p>Madam, by such revelations as have beene shewne to me, I know for -a certainety, that <i>Thebaldo</i> is not dead, but living, in health, and in good -estate; if he had the fruition of your grace and favour. Take heede what -you say Sir (quoth the Gentlewoman) for I saw him lie slaine before my -doore, his body having received 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. Beleeve me Madam, -(replied the Pilgrime) say what you will, I dare assure you that <i>Thebaldo</i> -is living, and if you dare make promise, concerning what hath beene formerly -requested, and keepe it inviolably; 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 never could any -thing happen, to yeeld me the like contentment, as to see my Father free -from danger, and <i>Thebaldo</i> living.</p> - -<p>At this instant <i>Thebaldo</i> thought it to be a very apt and convenient time -to disclose himselfe, and to comfort the Lady, with an assured signall of -hope, for the deliverance 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 ever being revealed -to the world. They were then in a place of sufficient privacy, and -alone by themselves, because shee reposed great confidence in the Pilgrimes -sanctity of life, as thinking him none other, then as he seemed to -be. <i>Thebaldo</i> tooke out of his Purse a Ring, which shee gave him, the last -night of their conversing 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 gave it unto <i>Thebaldo</i>.</p> - -<p>Hereupon the Pilgrime stood up, and suddenly putting off his poore -linnen Frocke, as also the Hood from his head; using then his <i>Florentine</i> -tongue, he saide. Then tell me Madam, doe you not know me? When -shee had advisedly beheld him, and knew him indeede to be <i>Thebaldo</i>; 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 <i>Thebaldo</i> -so lately come from <i>Cyprus</i>: but (in terror) fled away from him; as if <i>Thebaldo</i> -had beene newly risen out of his grave, and came thither purposely -to affright her; wherefore he saide. Be not afraide Madam, I am your -<i>Thebaldo</i>, in health, alive, and never as yet died, neither have I received -any wounds to kill mee, as you and my bretheren have formerly imagined.</p> - -<p>Some better assurance getting possession of her soule, as knowing -him perfectly by his voyce, and looking more stedfastly on his face, which -constantly avouched him to be <i>Thebaldo</i>; 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; <i>Thebaldo</i>, my true -and faithfull Husband, nothing in the World can be so welcome to me. -<i>Thebaldo</i> having most kindly kissed and embraced her, said; Sweete wife, -time will not now allow us those ceremonious curtesies, which (indeede) -so long a separation doe justly challenge; but I must about a more weightie -businesse, to have your Father safe and soundly delivered, 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 will see you againe to night, and acquaint -you at better leysure, in such things as I cannot doe now at this present.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Aldobrandino</i> lay, whom he found more pensive, 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 favour, as seeming -to be a man, come onely to comfort him; sitting downe by him, thus he -began. <i>Aldobrandino</i>, I am a friend of thine, whom Heaven hath sent to -doe thee good, in meere pitty and compassion of thine innocency. And -therefore, if thou wilt grant me one small request, which I am earnestly -to crave 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 <i>Aldobrandino</i> thus answered. -Friendly man, seeing thou art so carefull of my safety (although I know -thee not, neither doe remember that ever 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 never committed the sinfull deede, for which I -am condemned to death. Most true it is, I have other heynous and grievous -sinnes, which (undoubtedly) have throwne this heavy judgement -upon me, and therefore I am the more willing to undergoe it. Neverthelesse, -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 whatsoever thou pleasest of me, for -unfainedly (if I escape with life) I will truly keepe promise with thee.</p> - -<p>Sir, replied the Pilgrime, I desire nor demand any thing of you, but -that you wold pardon the foure brethren of <i>Thebaldo</i>, who have 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, -upon their craving pardon for what they have done. Sir, answered <i>Aldobrandino</i>, -no man knoweth how sweete revenge 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 Heaven; I freelie -forgive them, and henceforth pardon them for ever; intending moreover, -that if mercy give me life, and cleere me from this bloody imputation, -to love and respect them so long as I shall live. 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 deliverance.</p> - -<p>At his departing from him, he went directly to the <i>Signoria</i>, and prevailed -so farre, that he spake privately 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 have committed no foule offence, -should not be punished, but onely the guilty and haynous transgressors. -And because it will be no meane honour to you, to lay the blame -where it worthily deserveth; I am come hither purposely, to informe you -in a case of most weighty importance. It is not unknowne to you, with -what rigour the State hath proceeded against <i>Aldobrandino Palermini</i>, -and you thinke verily he is the man that hath slaine <i>Thebaldo Elisei</i>, whereupon -your law hath condemned him to dye. I dare assure you Sir, that a -very unjust course hath beene taken in this case, because <i>Aldobrandino</i> is -falsly accused, as you your selfe will confesse before midnight, when they -are delivered into your power, that were the murderers of the man.</p> - -<p>The honest Knight, who was very sorrowfull for <i>Aldobrandino</i>, gladly -gave attention to the Pilgrime, and having conferred on many matters, -appertaining to the fact committed: the two brethren, who were -<i>Thebaldoes</i> Hostes, and their Chamber-mayd, upon good advise given, -were apprehended in their first sleepe, without any resistance made in -their defence. But when the tortures were sent for, to understand 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 <i>Thebaldo Elisei</i>. And when it was demanded -of them, upon what occasion they did so foule an act. They answered, -that they were so hatefull against the mans life, because he would -luxuriously have abused one of their wives, when they both were absent -from their owne home.</p> - -<p>When the Pilgrime had heard this their voluntary confession, hee -tooke his leave of the Knight, returning secretly to the house of Madame -<i>Hermelina</i>, 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 <i>Thebaldo</i>, when, sitting -downe by her, hee said. Deare Love, be of good cheare, for (upon my -word) to morrow you shall have your father home safe, well, and delivered -from all further danger: and to confirme her the more confidently -in his words, hee declared at large the whole carriage of the businesse. -<i>Hermelina</i> being wondrously joyfull, for two such suddaine and succesfull -accidents to enjoy her husband alive and in health, and also to have her -father freed from so great a danger; kissed and embraced him most affectionately, -welcomming him lovingly into her bed, whereto so long time -he had beene a stranger.</p> - -<p>No sooner did bright day appeare, but <i>Thebaldo</i> arose, having 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 convenient -opportunity, for attending on the businesse belonging to <i>Aldobrandino</i>. -At the usuall houre appointed, the Lords were all set in the -<i>Signioria</i>, and had received full information, concerning the offence imputed -to <i>Aldobrandino</i>: 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 <i>Aldobrandino</i> being released, to his exceeding comfort, and no -small joy of his daughters, kindred and friends, all knowing perfectly, -that this had happened by the Pilgrimes meanes: they conducted him -home to <i>Aldobrandinoes</i> house, where they desired him to continue so -long as himselfe pleased, using him with most honourable and gracious -respect; but especially <i>Hermelina</i>, who knew (better then the rest) on -whom shee bestowed her liberall favours, yet concealing all closely to -her selfe.</p> - -<p>After two or three dayes were over-past, in these complementall entercoursings -of kindnesse, <i>Thebaldo</i> began to consider, that it was high -time for reconciliation, to be solemnely past betweene his brethren and -<i>Aldobrandino</i>. For, they were not a little amazed at his strange deliverance, -and went likewise continually armed, as standing in feare of <i>Aldobrandino</i> -and his friends; which made him the more earnest, for accomplishment -of the promise formerly made unto him. <i>Aldobrandino</i> lovingly -replied, that he was ready to make good his word. Whereupon, -the Pilgrime provided a goodly Banquet, whereat he purposed to have -present, <i>Aldobrandino</i>, his daughter, kindred, and their wives. But first, -himselfe would goe in person, to invite them in peace to his Banquet, to -performe this desired pacification, and conferred with his brethren, using -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 prevailing -with them, that they willingly condiscended, and thought it no -disparagement to them, for the recoverie of <i>Aldobrandinoes</i> kindnesse -againe, to crave pardon for their great error committed.</p> - -<p>On the morrow following, about the houre of dinner time, the foure -brethren of <i>Thebaldo</i>, attired in their mourning garments, with their -wives and friends, came first to the house of <i>Aldobrandino</i>, who purposely -attended for them, and having layd downe their weapons on the -ground: in the presence of all such, as <i>Aldobrandino</i> had invited as his -witnesses, they offered themselves to his mercy, and humbly required -pardon of him, for the matter wherein they had offended him. <i>Aldobrandino</i>, -shedding teares, most lovingly embraced them, and (to bee -briefe) pardon whatsoever injuries he had received. After this, the sisters -and wives, all clad in mourning, courteously submitted themselves, and -were graciously welcommed by Madame <i>Hermelina</i>, as also divers 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 deserved their due commendation, but onely sad silence, occasioned -by the fresh remembrance of sorrow, appearing in the habites of <i>Thebaldoes</i> -friends and kindred, which the Pilgrime himselfe plainely perceived, -to be the onely disgrace to him and his feast. Wherefore, as before hee -had resolved, when time served to purge away this melancholly; hee -arose from the Table, when some (as yet) had scarce begun to eate, and -thus spake.</p> - -<p>Gracious company, there is no defect in this Banquet, or more debarres -it of the honour it might else have, but onely the presence of <i>Thebaldo</i>, -who having 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, uncasing 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 -perceiving, 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, every one hugging and embracing -him, yea, many beside, who were no kin at all to him, <i>Hermelina</i> onely excepted, -which when <i>Aldobrandino</i> saw, he said unto her. How now <i>Hermelina</i>? -Why doest thou not welcome home <i>Thebaldo</i>, so kindely as all -here else have done?</p> - -<p>She making a modest courtesie to her Father, and answering so loude -as every one might heare her, said. There is not any in this assembly, that -more willingly would give him all expression of a joyfull welcom home, -and thankfull gratitude for such especiall favours received, 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 <i>Thebaldo</i>, which slander was to my great discredit. Goe on -boldly, replied <i>Aldobrandino</i>, doest thou thinke that I regard any such -praters? In the procuring of my deliverance, hee hath approved them to -be manifest liers, albeit I my selfe did never credit them. Goe then I command -thee, and let me see thee both kisse and embrace him. She who desired -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 -unfeigned love to <i>Thebaldo</i>. These bountifull favours of <i>Aldobrandino</i>, -were joyfully accepted by <i>Thebaldoes</i> brethren, as also every one else there -present in company; so that all former rancour and hatred, which had -caused heavy variances betweene them, was now converted to mutuall -kindnesse, and solemne friendship on every side.</p> - -<p>When the feasting dayes were finished, the garments of sad mourning -were quite layde aside, and those, becomming so generall a joy, put on, to -make their hearts and habites suteable. Now, concerning the man slaine, -and supposed to be <i>Thebaldo</i>, hee was one, that in all parts of body, and -truenesse of complexion so neerely resembled him, as <i>Thebaldoes</i> owne -brethren could not distinguish the one from the other: but hee was of -<i>Lunigiana</i>, named <i>Fatinolo</i>, and not <i>Thebaldo</i>, whom the two brethren -Inne-keepers maliced, about some idle suspition conceived, and having -slaine him, layde his body at the doore of <i>Aldobrandino</i>, where, by the reason -of <i>Thebaldoes</i> absence, it was generally reputed to be he, and <i>Aldobrandino</i> -charged to doe the deede, by vehement perswasion of the brethren, -knowing what love had passed betweene him and his daughter -<i>Hermelina</i>. 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 carriage of the Pilgrime, untill hee plainely approved himselfe, -to be truly <i>Thebaldo</i>.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Ferando_by_drinking_a_certaine_kinde_of_Powder_was_buried_for_dead_And" id="Ferando_by_drinking_a_certaine_kinde_of_Powder_was_buried_for_dead_And">Ferando, <i>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 Grave, -and put into a darke prison, where they made him beleeve, 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.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The eight Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is displayed, the apparant folly of jealousie: And the subtilty of some -religious carnall minded men, to beguile silly and simple maried men.</i></h4> - - -<p>When the long discourse -of Madame <i>Æmilia</i> 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 -<i>Lauretta</i>, giving 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 alive. In -which respect, I am now to let you know, how a living man was buried -for dead, and being raised againe, yet not as living, himselfe, and divers -more beside, did beleeve that he came forth of his grave, and adored him -as a Saint, who was the occasion thereof, and who (as a bad man) deserved -justly to be condemned.</p> - -<p>In <i>Tuscanie</i> 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, save 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 <i>Ferando</i>, dwelt as a neere -neighbour to the said Abby, hee being a man materiall, of simple and -grosse understanding, yet he fell into great familiarity with the Abbot; -who made use of this friendly conversation to no other end, but for divers -times of recreation; when he delighted to smile at his silly and sottish behaviour.</p> - -<p>Upon this his private frequentation with the Abbot, at last he observed, -that <i>Ferando</i> had a very beautifull woman to his wife, with whom he -grew so deepely in love, as hee had no other meditations either by day or -night, but how to become acceptable in her favour. Neverthelesse, he concealed -his amorous passions privately to himselfe, and could plainely perceive, -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 loving his wife, keeping her carefully out of all company, -as one (indeede) very jealous, least any should kisse her, but onely -himselfe, which drove the Abbot into despaire, for ever attaining the issue -of his desire. Yet being subtill, crafty, and cautelous, he wrought so -on the flexible nature of <i>Ferando</i>, that hee brought his wife with him divers -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 mervailous civill -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 <i>Ferando</i> tooke as an especiall -favour, and therefore he gave his consent the sooner.</p> - -<p>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 given me such an husband as I have, or else had bestowed on me -none at all; I might have beene so happy, by the meanes of your holy doctrine, -very easily to have entred into the way, whereof you spake the other -day, which leadeth to eternall life. But when I consider with my selfe, -what manner of man <i>Ferando</i> is, and thinke upon his folly withall; I may -well terme my selfe to be a widdow, although I am a maried wife, because -while he liveth, I cannot have any other husband. And yet (as sottish -as you see him) he is (without any occasion given him) so extreamely jealous -of me; as I am not able to live 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 advise 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.</p> - -<p>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 use of common understanding; -but yet subject to a more hellish affliction then all these, namely jealousie, -and therefore you being in this wofull manner tormented, your tribulations -are not only so much the more credited, but also as amply grieved -for, & pittied. In which heavy and irksome 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 jealousie; which medicine is very familiar -to me, because I know best how to compound it, alwayes provided, -that you can be of so strong a capacity, as to be secret in what I shall say -unto you.</p> - -<p>Good Father (answered the Woman) never make you any doubt -thereof, for I would rather endure death it selfe, then disclose any thing -which you enjoyne 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 have him perfectly cured, of a disease so dangerous and offensive, -of necessity he must be sent into Purgatory. How may that be -done, saide the woman, he being alive? 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 jealousie, we have -certaine devoute and zealous prayers, whereby to bring him backe againe -to life, in as able manner as ever 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 heavens will therewith be highly offended: but -<i>Ferando</i> being returned to life againe, you must repossesse him as your -Husband, but never to be jealous any more. Alas Sir (quoth the woman) -so that he may be cured of his wicked jealousie, and I no longer live in -such an hellish imprisonment, doe as you please.</p> - -<p>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 have done it? Father, saide shee, whatsoever -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, even 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 love, and the kinde embracing of your person; because -so violent are mine affections, as I pine and consume away daily, till -I enjoy the fruition of my desires, and none can help me therein but you.</p> - -<p>When the woman heard these words, as one confounded with much -amazement, this shee replied. Alas, holy Father! what a strange motion -have you made to me? I beleeved very faithfully, that you were no lesse -then a Saint, and is it convenient, that when silly women come to aske -counsell of such sanctified men, they should returne them such unfitting -answeres? Be not amazed good woman, saide the Abbot, at the motion -which I have made unto you, because holinesse is not thereby impaired a -jot in me; for it is the inhabitant of the soule, the other is an imperfection -attending on the body: but be it whatsoever, your beauty hath so powerfully -prevailed on me, that entire love hath compelled me to let you -know it. And more may you boast of your beauty, then any that ever I -beheld before, considering, it is so pleasing to a sanctified man, that it -can draw him from divine contemplations, to regard a matter of so -humble an equalitie.</p> - -<p>Let me tell you moreover, woorthy Woman, that you see me reverenced -here as Lord Abbot, yet am I but as other men are, and in regard -I am neither aged, nor misshapen, me thinkes the motion I have -made, should be the lesse offensive to you, and therefore the sooner -granted. For, all the while as <i>Ferando</i> 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 privy to -our close meetings, for I carrie the same holy opinion among all men, -as you your selfe conceived of me, and none dare be so saucie, as to -call in question whatsoever 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 enjoy -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 Jewels, which shall be all yours, if you please in -favour to be mine; wherein I will not be gaine-saide, except your selfe -doe denie me.</p> - -<p>The Woman having 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 over-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 never ceased, but allured her still to beleeve -whatsoever 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, untill <i>Ferando</i> were first sent into Purgatory. And till then -(quoth the Abbot) I will not urge 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 come hither once more to converse with -me. So putting a faire gold Ring on her finger, they parted till their next -meeting.</p> - -<p>Not a little joyfull was the Woman of so rich a gift, hoping to enjoy -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, <i>Ferando</i> went -to the Abbye againe, and so soone as the Abbot espyed him, hee presently -prepared for his sending of him into Purgatorie. He never was -without a certaine kinde of drugge, which being beaten into powder, -would worke so powerfully upon the braine, and all the other vitall sences, -as to entrance them with a deadly sleepe, and deprive them of all -motion, either in the pulses, or any other part else, even as if the body -were dead indeede; in which operation it would so hold and continue, -according to the quantity given 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 upon his Novices, sending -them into Purgatory when he pleased, and by such punishments as -he inflicted on them there, made them (like credulous asses) beleeve whatsoever -himselfe listed.</p> - -<p>So much of this powder had the Abbot provided, as should suffice for -three dayes entrauncing, and having compounded it with a very pleasant -Wine, calling <i>Ferando</i> into his Chamber, there gave it him to drinke, -and afterward walked with him about the Cloyster, in very friendly conference -together, the silly sot never dreaming on the treachery intended -against him. Many Monkes beside were recreating themselves in the -Cloyster, most of them delighting to behold the follies of <i>Ferando</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>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 revive him againe; alleaging that some -fume or vapour in the stomacke, had thus over-awed his understanding -faculties, and quite deprived 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 used such perswasions to the -Monkes, that they all beleeved 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.</p> - -<p>The Abbot (cloathed as he was) laide him in a hollow vault under a -Tombe, such as there are used in stead of Graves; 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 never -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 -unto her.</p> - -<p>From the City of <i>Bologna</i>, that very instant day, a well staide and -governed Monke there arrived, 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 <i>Ferando</i> out of the -vault, carried him into a darke dungeon or prison, which he termed by -the name of Purgatory, and where hee used to discipline his Monkes, -when they had committed any notorious offence, deserving to be -punished in Purgatory. There they tooke off his usuall wearing -garments, and cloathed him in the habite of a Monke, even as if he had -beene one of the house; and laying him on a bundle of straw, so left him -untill his sences should be restored againe. On the day following, late -in the evening, 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 pensive, which by his wonted perswasions, -indifferently he appeased; challenging the benefit of her promise. Shee -being thus alone, not hindered by her Husbands jealousie, and espying -another goodly gold Ring on his finger, how frailety and folly over-ruled -her, I know not, shee was a weake woman, he a divelish deluding man; -and the strongest holdes by over-long battery and besieging, must needes -yeeld at the last, as I feare shee did: for very often afterward, the Abbot -used in this manner to visit her, and the simple ignorant Countrey people, -carrying no such ill opinion of the holy Abbot, and having seene <i>Ferando</i> -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 <i>Ferando</i>, who -walked in this manner after his death, as a just pennance for his jealousie.</p> - -<p>When <i>Ferandoes</i> sences were recovered 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 <i>Bologna</i> -(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 <i>Ferando</i>, he stript off his cloathes, and began to lash him -very soundly. <i>Ferando</i> roaring and crying, could say nothing else, but, -where am I? The Monke (with a dreadfull voyce) replyed: Thou art in -Purgatory. How? saide <i>Ferando</i>; what? Am I dead? Thou art dead (quoth -the Monke) and began to lash him lustily againe. Poore <i>Ferando</i>, 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 <i>Ferando</i> -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 have Masses devoutly 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.</p> - -<p><i>Ferando</i> having 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 loving Wife, long mayest thou live for this extraordinary -kindnesse. I promise thee (sweete heart) while I was alive, I cannot -remember, that ever 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, using her so villainously in thy life time? -Then did he whip him more fiercely then before, when <i>Ferando</i> holding -up his hands, as craving for mercy, demanded wherefore he was so severely -punished? I am so commanded (quoth the Monke) by supreme -power, and twice every day must thou be thus disciplinde. Upon what -occasion? replyed <i>Ferando</i>. Because (quoth the Monke) thou wast most -notoriously jealous of thy Wife, shee being the very kindest woman to -thee, as all the Countrey containeth not her equall. It is too true, answered -<i>Ferando</i>, I was over-much jealous of her indeede: but had I knowne, -that jealousie was such a hatefull sinne against Heaven, I never would -have offended therein.</p> - -<p>Now (quoth the Monke) thou canst confesse thine owne wilfull follie, -but this should have beene thought on before, and whilest thou wast living -in the World. But if the Fates vouchsafe to favour 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 jealousie. -I pray you Sir tell me, replyed <i>Ferando</i>, after men are dead, and put into -Purgatory, is there any hope of their ever visiting the World any more? -Yes, saide the Monke, if the fury of the Fates be once appeased. O that I -knew (quoth <i>Ferando</i>) by what meanes they would be appeased, and let -me visite the World once againe: I would be the best Husband that ever -lived, and never more be jealous, never wrong so good a Wife, nor ever -use one unkind word against her. In the meane while, and till their anger -may be qualified; when next my Wife doth send me foode, I pray you -worke so much, that some Candles may be sent me also, because I live -here in uncomfortable darknesse; and what should I doe with foode, if I -have no light. Shee sends Lights enow, answered the Monke, but they -are burnt out on the Altar in Masse-time, and thou canst have 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.</p> - -<p><i>Ferando</i> 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 <i>Sardignia</i>, where I served a very -jealous Master; and because I soothed him in his jealousie, I had this pennance -imposed on me, to serve thee here in Purgatory with meate and -drinke, and (twice every day) to discipline thy body, untill the Fates have -otherwise determined both for thee and me. Why? saide <i>Ferando</i>, 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 us. But how farre, saide <i>Ferando</i>, is Purgatory distant -from our native Countries? About some fifty thousand leagues, -answered the Monke; but yet passable in a moment, whensoever 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 conversion; and becomming -a new man, hating to be jealous any more hereafter.</p> - -<p>In these and such like speeches, as thus they beguiled the time, so did -they observe 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 <i>Ferandoes</i> wife, without -the least suspition in any of the neighbours, by reason of their setled opinion, -concerning the nightly walking of <i>Ferandoes</i> ghost. But, as all pleasures -cannot bee exempted from some following paine or other, so it -came to passe, that <i>Ferandoes</i> wife proved to be conceived with childe, -and the time was drawing on for her deliverance. Now began the Abbot -to consider, that <i>Ferandoes</i> folly was sufficiently chastised, and hee -had beene long enough in Purgatory: wherefore, the better to countenance -all passed inconveniences, it was now thought high time, that <i>Ferando</i> -should be sent to the world againe, and set free from the paines of -Purgatory, as having payed for his jealousie dearely, to teach him better -wisedome hereafter.</p> - -<p>Late in the dead time of the night the Abbot himselfe entred into the -darke dungeon, and in an hollow counterfeited voyce, called to <i>Ferando</i>, -saying. Comfort thy selfe <i>Ferando</i>, for the Fates are now pleased, that -thou shalt bee released out of Purgatory, and sent to live in the world -againe. Thou didst leave thy wife newly conceived with childe, and this -very morning she is delivered of a goodly Sonne, whom thou shalt cause -to be named <i>Bennet</i>: because, by the incessant prayers of the holy Abbot, -thine owne loving wife, and for sweet Saint <i>Bennets</i> sake, this grace -and favour is afforded thee. <i>Ferando</i> hearing this, was exceeding joyfull, -and returned this answere: For ever honoured be the Fates, the holy -Lord Abbot, blessed Saint <i>Bennet</i>, and my most dearely beloved wife, -whom I will faithfully love for ever, and never more offend her by any -jealousie in me.</p> - -<p>When the next foode was sent to <i>Ferando</i>, so much of the powder -was mingled with the wine, as would serve 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 -<i>Bologna</i>, conveying and laying him in the same vault under the Tombe, -where at the first they gave him buriall. The next morning following, -about the breake of day, <i>Ferando</i> recovered his sences, and thorow divers -chinkes and crannies of the Tombe, descried day-light, which hee -had not seene in tenne moneths space before. Perceiving then plainely, -that he was alive, he cried out aloude, saying: Open, open, and let mee -forth of Purgatory, for I have beene heere long enough in conscience. -Thrusting up his head against the cover 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 upon his feete: at which instant time, the Monks -having ended their morning Mattins, and hearing the noyse, ran in hast -thither, and knowing the voyce of <i>Ferando</i>, saw that he was come forth of -the Monument.</p> - -<p>Some of them were ancient Signiors of the house, and yet but meere -Novices (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 have pleased to shew in our Convent, therefore be silent, -and make no more noise; all which was performed according to his -command.</p> - -<p><i>Ferando</i> looking leane and pale, as one, that in so long time hadde not -seene the light of heaven, and endured such strict discipline twice everie -day: stood in a gastly amazement by the Tombes side, as not daring to -adventure any further, or knowing perfectly, whether he was (as yet) truly -alive, 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 feete, saying. Holy Father, by your zealous -prayers (as hath bin miraculously revealed to me) and the prayers of -blessed S. <i>Bennet</i>; as also of my honest, deare, and loving Wife, I have -bin delivered from the paines of Purgatory, and brought againe to live in -this world; for which unspeakable grace and favour, most humbly I thank -the well-pleased Fates, S. <i>Bennet</i>, your Father-hood, and my kinde Wife, -and will remember all your loves to me for ever. 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 have bin so gracious to thee; -Go (I say) home to thine owne house, and comfort thy kind wife, who ever -since thy departure out of this life, hath lived in continual mourning, -love, cherish, and make much of her, never afflicting her henceforth with -causelesse jealousie. No I warrant you good Father, replyed <i>Ferando</i>; I -have 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 loving -wife, or any other.</p> - -<p>The Abbot causing <i>Miserere</i> to be devoutly sung, sprinkling <i>Ferando</i> -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 severall names, telling them, that hee was -newly risen out of his grave, and was a man as he had bin before. Then -they began to touch and feele him, growing into more certaine assurance -of him, perceiving him to be a living 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 (neverthelesse) they beleeved.</p> - -<p>Then he told them what the miraculous voice had said unto him, concerning -the birth of another young Sonne, whom (according as he was -commanded) he caused to be named <i>Bennet Ferando</i>. 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 <i>Ferandoes</i> happy curing of his jealousie.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Juliet_of_Narbona_cured_the_King_of_France_of_a_daungerous_Fistula_in_recompence" id="Juliet_of_Narbona_cured_the_King_of_France_of_a_daungerous_Fistula_in_recompence">Juliet of Narbona, <i>cured the King of France of a daungerous Fistula, in recompence -whereof, she requested to enjoy as her husband in marriage,</i> Bertrand -<i>the Count of</i> Roussillion. <i>Hee having married her against his will, as -utterly despising her, went to Florence, where he made love to a young Gentlewoman.</i> -Juliet, <i>by a queint and cunning policy, compassed the meanes (insted -of his chosen new friend) to lye with her owne husband, by whom shee -conceived, and had two Sonnes; which being afterward made knowne unto -Count</i> Bertrand, <i>he accepted her into his favour again, and loved her as his -loyall and honourable wife.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The Ninth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Commending the good judgement and understanding in Ladies or Gentlewomen, -that are of a quicke and apprehensive spirit.</i></h4> - - -<p>Now there remained no more -(to preserve the priviledge -granted to <i>Dioneus</i> uninfringed) -but the Queene onely, to declare -her Novell. Wherefore, when -the discourse of Madam <i>Lauretta</i> -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 liking, -having heard the rare and wittie -discourse of Madame <i>Lauretta</i>? -Beleeve me, it was verie advantageable -to us all, that she was not -this dayes first beginner, because -few or none would have had any courage to follow after her, & therefore -the rest yet remaining, are the more to be feared and suspected. Neverthelesse, -to avoid the breach of order, and to claime no priviledge by my -place, of not performing what I ought to do: prove as it may, a Tale you -must have, and thus I proceed.</p> - -<p>There lived sometime in the kingdom of <i>France</i>, a Gentleman named -<i>Isnarde</i>, being the Count of <i>Roussillion</i>, who because hee was continually -weake, crazie and sickly, kept a Physitian daily in his house, who was called -Master <i>Gerard</i> of <i>Narbona</i>. Count <i>Isnarde</i> had one onely Sonne, very -young in yeares, yet of towardly hope, faire, comely, and of pleasing -person, named <i>Bertrand</i>; with whom, many other children of his age, had -their education: and among them, a daughter of the fore-named Physitian, -called <i>Juliet</i>; who, even in these tender yeares, fixed her affection -upon yong <i>Bertrand</i>, 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 <i>Isnard</i> dying, yong <i>Bertrand</i> -fell as a Ward to the King, and being sent to <i>Paris</i>, remained there under -his royall custodie and protection, to the no little discomfort of yong <i>Juliet</i>, -who became greevously afflicted in minde, because shee had lost the -company of <i>Bertrand</i>.</p> - -<p>Within some few yeeres after, the Physitian her Father also dyed, and -then her desires grew wholly addicted, to visite <i>Paris</i> her selfe in person, -onely because she would see the yong Count, awaiting but time & opportunitie, -to fit her stolne journey 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 behaviour, as she could not compasse any meanes of escaping. -Her yeeres made her now almost fit for marriage, which so much more -encreased her love 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, whereby her affections were the more violently enflamed, -as fearing least some other should be preferred before her, & so her hopes -be utterly disappointed.</p> - -<p>It was noysed abroad by common report, that the King of <i>France</i> was -in a very dangerous condition, by reason of a strange swelling on his stomacke, -which failing of apt and convenient 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 drove it to more vehement extreamitie, -compelling the King, as dispairing utterly of all helpe, to give over any -further counsell or advice. Heereof faire <i>Juliet</i> was wondrously joyful, as -hoping that this accident would prove the meanes, not only of hir journey -to <i>Paris</i>, but if the disease were no more then shee imagined; shee -could easily cure it, and thereby compasse Count <i>Bertrand</i> to be her husband. -Heereupon, quickning up 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 having reduced hir -compound into a powder, away she rode forthwith to Paris.</p> - -<p>Being there arrived, all other serious matters set aside, first shee must -needs have a sight of Count <i>Bertrand</i>, as being the onely Saint that caused -her pilgrimage. Next she made meanes for her accesse to the King, -humbly entreating his Majesty, to vouchsafe her the sight of his Fistula. -When the King saw her, her modest lookes did plainly deliver, 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 heaven) 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 unthankefull -for thy forward willingnesse: but I am fully determined, to use no more -counsell, or to make any further triall of Physicke or Chirurgery. Whereto -faire <i>Juliet</i> 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 undertake the ministering thereof, as depending on -mine owne knowledge; but by the gracious assistance of heaven, & some -rules of skilfull observation, which I learned of reverend <i>Gerard</i> of <i>Narbona</i>, -who was my worthy Father, and a Physitian of no meane fame, all -the while he lived.</p> - -<p>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 heaven, 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 resolved -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? Whatsoever 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 within -eight daies, let a good fire be made, and therein consume my bodie unto -ashes. But if I accomplish the cure, and set your Highnesse free from all -further greevance, what recompence then shall remaine to me?</p> - -<p>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 unmarried, if thou keepe promise, and I -finde my selfe to be fully cured: I will match thee with some such Gentleman -in marriage, as shal be of honourable and worthy reputation, with -a sufficient dowry beside. My gracious Soveraigne saide she, willing am -I, and most heartily thankful withall, that your Highnesse shal bestow me -in marriage: but I desire then, to have such a husband, as I shal desire -or demand by your gracious favour, without presuming to crave any of -your Sonnes, Kindred, or Alliance, or appertaining unto your Royall -blood. Whereto the King gladly granted. Young <i>Juliet</i> began to minister -her Physicke, and within fewer dayes then her limited time, the King -was sound and perfectly cured; which when he perceyved, hee sayd unto -her. Trust me vertuous Mayde, most woorthily hast thou wonne a Husband, -name him, and thou shalt have him. Royall King (quoth she) then -have I won the Count <i>Bertrand</i> of <i>Roussillion</i>, whom I have most entirely -loved 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.</p> - -<p>Noble Count, it is not unknowne to us, 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 enjoy a Wife, which we -intend to bestow upon 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 Heaven) -hath beene the meanes to save my life. Well did the Count know her, -as having 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 give me a Quacksalver 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 have us breake our faith; which for the recovery of our health, wee -have given to this vertuous virgin, and shee will have no other reward, -but onely Count <i>Bertrand</i> to be her husband? Sir, replied the Count, -you may dispossesse me of all that is mine, because I am your Ward and -Subject, 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 ever give consent thereto.</p> - -<p>Sir, saide the King, it is our will that it shall be so, vertuous she is, faire -and wise; she loveth 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) received his wife at the Kings hand; -she loving 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, reserving -to himselfe what else he intended. Being mounted on horseback, -and humbly taking their leave of the King, the Count would not ride -home to his owne dwelling, but into <i>Tuscany</i>, where he heard of a warre -betweene the <i>Florentines</i> and the <i>Senesi</i>, purposing to take part with the -<i>Florentines</i>, to whom he was willingly and honourably welcommed, being -created Captain of a worthy Company, and continuing there a long -while in service.</p> - -<p>The poore forsaken new married Countesse, could scarsely be pleased -with such dishonourable unkindnes, yet governing her impatience with -no meane discretion, and hoping by her vertuous carriage, to compasse -the meanes of his recall: home she rode to <i>Roussillion</i>, where all the people -received her very lovingly. Now, by reason of the Counts so long -absence, all things were there farre out of order; mutinies, quarrels, and -civill dissentions, having procured many dissolute irruptions, to the expence -of much blood in many places. But shee, like a jolly stirring Lady, -very wise and provident in such disturbances, reduced all occasions -to such civility againe, that the people admired her rare behaviour, and -condemned the Count for his unkindnesse towards her.</p> - -<p>After that the whole countrey of <i>Roussillion</i> (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 understand, that if in displeasure to her, hee was -thus become a stranger to his owne countrey: upon the return of his answer, -to give 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 have no determination to dwel with her, or neere where -she is. Tell her from me, when she shall have this Ring, which you behold -heere on my finger, and a sonne in her armes begotten by me; then -will I come live with her, and be her love. The Ring he made most precious -and deere account of, and never 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 favour else to be derived from him; sorrowfully -returned backe to their Ladie, and acquainted her with this unkinde -answer, as also his unalterable determination, which wel you may -conceive, must needs be verie unwelcome to her.</p> - -<p>After she had an indifferent while considered with her selfe, her resolution -became so undauntable; that she would adventure to practise such -meanes, whereby to compasse those two apparant impossibilities, and so -to enjoy the love of her husband. Having absolutely concluded what -was to be done, she assembled all the cheefest men of the country, revealing -unto them (in mournfull manner) what an attempt she had made already, -in hope of recovering her husbands favour, and what a rude answer -was thereon returned. In the end, she told them, that it did not sute -with her unworthinesse, to make the Count live as an exile from his -owne inheritance, upon no other inducement, but only in regard of her: -wherefore, she had determined betweene heaven and her soule, to spend -the remainder of her dayes in Pilgrimages and prayers, for preservation -of the Counts soule and her owne; earnestly desiring them, to undertake -the charge and government of the Countrey, and signifying unto the -Count, how she had forsaken his house, and purposed to wander so far -thence, that never would she visite <i>Roussillion</i> any more. In the deliverie -of these words, the Lords and gentlemen wept and sighed extraordinarily, -using many earnest imprecations to alter this resolve in her, but all -was in vaine.</p> - -<p>Having 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 Jewels, -to avoide all wants which might befall her in travaile; not acquainting -any one whether she went. In no place stayed she, untill she was arrived -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 he was a stranger there, yet a Nobleman, -called Count <i>Bertrand</i> of <i>Roussillion</i>, a verie courteous Knight, -beloved and much respected in the City. Moreover, that he was farre -in love with a neighbour of hers, a yong Gentlewoman, but verie poore -and meane in substance, yet of honest life, vertuous, and never taxed -with any evill report: onely her povertie was the maine imbarment of -her marriage, dwelling in house with her mother, who was a wise, honest, -and worthy Lady.</p> - -<p>The Countesse having wel observed her words, and considered thereon -from point to point; debated soberly with her owne thoughts, in such -a doubtfull case what was best to be done. When she had understood -which was the house, the ancient Ladies name, and likewise her daughters, -to whom her husband was now so affectionately devoted; she made -choise of a fit and convenient 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 giving her courteous entertainment, -they went together into a withdrawing chamber, where being -both set downe, the Countesse began in this manner.</p> - -<p>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 beleeve 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 have now need -(good Madame) both of your trust and fidelity, whereon if I should rely, -and you faile me, it will be your owne undooing as well as mine. Speake -then boldly, replied the olde Ladie, and remaine constantly assured, that -you shall no way be deceived by me. Heereupon, the Countesse declared -the whole course of her love, from the verie originall to the instant, -revealing also what she was, and the occasion of her comming thither, -relating every thing so perfectly, that the Ladie verily beleeved her, by -some reports which she had formerly heard, and which mooved her the -more to compassion. Now, when all circumstances were at full discovered, -thus spake the Countesse.</p> - -<p>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 have, all hope is -quite frustrate for ever, 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 -have heard, and you can therein best resolve mee. Since my comming -to this City, it hath credibly bene told me, that the Count my husband, -is deeply in love with your daughter. If the Count (quoth the Ladie) -love my daughter, and have a wife of his owne, he must thinke, and so -shall surely finde it, that his greatnesse is no priviledge for him, whereby -to worke dishonour upon her poverty. 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 whatsoever 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 poverty -as at high a rate, as he can do the pride of his honour.</p> - -<p>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 have heard) onely by lack of a competent dowry. -Wherefore Madame, in recompence of the favour 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 honour. Poverty made the poore Lady, -very well to like of such a bountifull offer, and having a noble heart -she said: Great Countesse say, wherein am I able to do you any service, -as can deserve such a gracious offer? If the action bee honest, without -blame or scandall to my poore, yet undejected reputation, gladly I will -do it; and it being accomplished, let the requitall rest in your owne noble -nature.</p> - -<p>Observe me then Madam, replyed the Countesse. It is most convenient -for my purpose, that by some trusty and faithfull messenger, you -should advertise the Count my husband, that your daughter is, and shall -be at his command: but because she may remain absolutely assured, that -his love is constant to her, and above all other: shee must entreate him, -to send her (as a testimony thereof) the Ring which he weareth upon his -little finger, albeit she hath heard, that he loveth it dearly. If he send the -Ring, you shal give 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 favour mee, that (unknowne to -him) I may conceive with childe. Uppon which good successe, when -time shall serve, having the Ring on my finger, and a child in my armes -begotten by him, his love and liking may bee recovered, and (by your -meanes) I continue with my Husband, as everie vertuous Wife ought -to doe.</p> - -<p>The good old Ladie imagined, that this was a matter somewhat difficult, -and might lay a blamefull imputation on her daughter: Neverthelesse, -considering, what an honest office it was in her, to bee the -meanes, whereby so worthy a Countesse should recover an unkinde husband, -led altogether by lust, and not a jot of cordiall love; she knew the -intent to be honest, the Countesse vertuous, and her promise religious, -and therefore undertooke to effect it. Within few dayes after, verie ingeniously, -and according to the instructed order, the Ring was obtained, -albeit much against the Counts will; and the Countesse, in sted of -the Ladies vertuous daughter, was embraced by him in bed: the houre -proving so auspicious, and <i>Juno</i> being Lady of the ascendent, conjoyned -with the witty <i>Mercury</i>, she conceived of two goodly Sonnes, and -her deliverance agreed correspondently with the just time.</p> - -<p>Thus the old Lady, not at this time only, but at many other meetings -beside; gave the Countesse free possession of her husbands pleasures, yet -alwayes in such darke and concealed secrecie, as it was never suspected, -nor knowne by any but themselves, the Count lying with his owne wife, -and disappointed of her whom he more deerely loved. Alwayes at his -uprising in the mornings (which usually was before the breake of day, -for preventing the least scruple of suspition) many familiar conferences -passed betweene them, with the gifts of divers faire and costly Jewels; all -which the Countesse carefully kept, and perceiving assuredly, that shee -was conceived 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 give thankes to heaven and you, because my desires are amply accomplished, -and both time and your deserts doe justly 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 give you by way of reward, because that would seeme to bee -base and mercenary: but onely whatsoever you shall receive of me, is in -honourable recompence of faire & vertuous deservings, such as any honest -and well-minded Lady in the like distresse, may with good credit allow, -and yet no prejudice to her reputation.</p> - -<p>Although poverty might well have 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 uttered too; yet the Countesse gave hir five -hundred pounds, beside so many rich and costly Jewels, 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 -<i>Florence</i>; and the good old Lady, to avoide the Counts repairing to her -house any more, departed thence sodainly with her daughter, to divers -friends of hers that dwelt in the Country, whereat the Count was much -discontented; albeit afterward, he did never heare any more tidings of hir -or her daughter, who was worthily married, to her Mothers great comfort.</p> - -<p>Not long after, Count <i>Bertrand</i> was re-called home by his people: -and he having heard of his wives absence, went to <i>Roussillion</i> so much the -more willingly. And the Countesse knowing her husbands departure -from <i>Florence</i>, as also his safe arrivall at his owne dwelling, remained still -in <i>Florence</i>, untill the time of her deliverance, which was of two goodly -Sonnes, lively resembling the lookes of their Father, and all the perfect -lineaments of his body. Perswade your selves, she was not a little carefull -of their nursing; and when she saw the time answerable to her determination, -she tooke her journey (unknowne to any) and arrived with -them at <i>Montpellier</i>, where shee rested her selfe for divers dayes, after so -long and wearisome a journey.</p> - -<p>Upon the day of all Saints, the Count kept a solemne Festivall, for -the assembly of his Lords, Knights, Ladies, and Gentlewomen: uppon -which Joviall day of generall rejoycing, the Countesse attired in her -wonted Pilgrimes weed, repaired thither, entering into the great Hall, -where the Tables were readily covered for dinner. Preassing thorough -the throng of people, with her two children in her armes, she presumed -unto the place where the Count sate, & falling on her knees before him, -the teares trickling abundantly downe her cheekes, thus she spake. Worthy -Lord, I am thy poor, despised, and unfortunate wife; who, that thou -mightst returne home, and not bee an exile from thine owne abiding, -have 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 unto -thee, and which (by thy command) I was enjoyned 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 honour respect their -promises, that after so long and tedious travell, I should at last bee welcommed -as thy true wife.</p> - -<p>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 judgement. -Upon his urging by what possible meanes this could be broght to passe: -the Countesse in presence of the whole assembly, and unto her eternall -commendation, related the whole history, even in such manner as you -have formerly heard it. Moreover, she reported the private speeches in -bed, uttered betweene himselfe and her, being witnessed more apparantly, -by the costly Jewels 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 every point which -she had reported.</p> - -<p>Commending her admirable constancy, excellency of wit, & sprightly -courage, in making such a bold adventure; 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 have no deniall, but by forgetting his former harsh -and uncivill carriage towardes her, to accept her for ever as his lawfull -wife: folding her in his armes, and sweetly kissing her divers times together, -he bad her welcome to him, as his vertuous, loyall, & most loving -wife, and so (for ever 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 uncase -her of those pilgrimes weeds, and cloath her in her owne more sumptuous -garments, even 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 give the King thanks -for her, and now was Count <i>Bertrand</i> truly married to the faire <i>Juliet</i> of -<i>Narbona</i>.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="The_wonderfull_and_chaste_resolved_continency_of_faire_Serictha_daughter_to" id="The_wonderfull_and_chaste_resolved_continency_of_faire_Serictha_daughter_to"><i>The wonderfull and chaste resolved continency of faire Serictha, daughter to -Siwalde King of Denmark, who being sought and sued unto by many worthy -persons, that did affect her dearly, would not looke any man in the face, -untill such time as she was married.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The tenth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>A very singular and worthy president, for all yong Ladies and Gentlewomen: -not rashly to bestow themselves in mariage, without the knowledge and consent -of their Parents and Friends.</i></h4> - - -<p><i>Dioneus</i> having diligently listened -to the Queens singular -discourse, so soone as she had -concluded, and none now remaining -but himselfe, to give a full -period unto 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 -now expect from me, some such -queint Tale, as shall be suteable -to my merry disposition; rather -savouring of wantonnesse, then -any discreet and sober wisedom; -and such a purpose indeed, I once -had entertained. But having well -observed all your severall relations, -grounded on grave & worthy -examples, especially the last, so notably delivered by the Queene: I -cannot but commend faire <i>Juliet</i> of <i>Narbona</i>, in perfourming two such -strange impossibilities, and conquering the unkindnesse of so cruel a husband. -If my Tale come short of the precedent excellency, or give not -such content as you (perhaps) expect; accept my good will, and let me -stand engaged for a better heereafter.</p> - -<p>The Annales of <i>Denmarke</i> do make mention, that the King of the said -country, who was first set downe as Prince, contrary to the ancient custom -and lawes observed among the <i>Danes</i>, namely <i>Hunguinus</i>; had a son -called <i>Siwalde</i>, 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 <i>Serictha</i>, -Daughter to the sayde <i>Siwalde</i>; 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 whatsoever else, to attract the eyes of everie one to beholde -her: was also so chaste, modest, and bashfull, as it was meerely -impossible, to prevaile 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 -conceived, of the vertuous qualities of a Ladie. Notwithstanding, never -could any man make his vaunt, that she had given him so much as a -looke, or ever any one attained to the favour, to whisper a word in her -eare. Because both the custome and will of Parents then (very respectively -kept in those Northerne parts of the world) of hearing such speak, -as desired their daughters in marriage; grew from offering them some -worthy services; and thereby compassed meanes, to yeeld their contentation, -by some gracious and kinde answers.</p> - -<p>But she, who was farre off from the desire of any such follies, referring -her selfe wholly to the will and disposition of the King her Lord and -Father; was so contrary, to give any living man an answer, that her eye -never 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 have any other disposition, but such as should bee pleasing to -their parents, either to graunt, or denie, according as they were guided -by their grave judgement. In like manner, so well had shee brideled -her sensuall appetites, with the curbe of Reason, Wisedome, and -Providence; setting such a severe and constant restraint, on the twinkling -or motions of her eyes, in absolute obedience to her Father; as never -was she seene to turne her head aside, to lend one looke on any man -of her age.</p> - -<p>A worthy sight it was, to behold Knights errant, passing, repassing to -<i>Denmarke</i>, and backe againe, labouring to conquer those setled eyes, to -win the least signe of grace and favour, from her whom they so dutiously -pursued, to steale but a silly glimpse or glance, and would have thought it -a kind of honourable theft. But this immovable 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 endeavour, -ayming onely at obtaining her in mariage: yet did she not lend any look -of her eye, yeelding the least signall of the hearts motion, in affecting any -thing whatsoever, but what it pleased her Father she should do.</p> - -<p><i>Serictha</i> living in this strange and unusuall manner, it mooved manie -Princes and great Lords, to come and court her, contending both by -signes and words, to change her from this severe constancie, and make -knowne (if possible it might be) whether a woman would or could be so -resolute, as to use no respect at all towards them, coming from so manie -strange countries, to honour 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 <i>Serictha</i> were. Considering, that our Courtiers -of these times, are this way emulous one of another, and women are so -forward in offering themselves, that they performe the office of suters, -as fearing lest they should not be solicited, yea, though it bee in honest -manner.</p> - -<p>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 severity would be shaken, if once it came to passe, that -his daughter should feele the piercing apprehensions of love, & whereof -(as yet) she never had any experience; he determined to use some remedy -for this great concourse of lovers, and strange kinde of carriage in the -Princesse his daughter. For, hee apparantly perceived, that such excelling -beauty as was in <i>Serictha</i>, with those good and commendable customes, -and other ornaments of his daughters mind, could never attaine -to such an height of perfection; but yet there would be found some men, -so wittily accute and ingenious, as to convert and humour 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 service, some one or other would prove -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 himselfe in his Chamber, and -standing cleere from all other attention, hee used to her this, or the like -Language.</p> - -<p>I know not faire daughter, what reason may move 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 -love and loyall service, under this onely pretence (as I perceive) 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 justly vouchsafe to see; I commend your maidenly continencie, which -yet neverthelesse, I would not have to bee so severe; as (at length) your -youth falling into mislike thereof, it maybe the occasion of some great -misfortune, either to you, or me, or else to us both together: considering -what rapes are ordinarily committed in these quarters, and of Ladies -equall every way to your selfe; which happening, would presently -be the cause of my death.</p> - -<p>If it be in regard of some vow which you have consecrated to virginity, -and to some one of our Gods: I seeke not therein to hinder your disseignes, -neither will bereave the celestiall powers, of whatsoever 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 prove a Campe destinied unto the conclusion of -such quarrels, or you be the occasion of ruining so many, whose service -would beseeme a much more needfull place, then to dye heere by fond -and foolish opinion of enjoying a vaine pleasure, yet remaining in the -power of another bodie to grant. If therefore I shall perceive, that these -behaviours in you do proceede from pride, or contempt of them, who -endeavour to do you both honour and service, 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.</p> - -<p>Wherefore deere daughter, you shall do me a singular pleasure, freely -to acquaint me with your minde, and the reasons of your so stricte severity: -promising you, upon the word and faith of a King, nay more, of -a loving and kinde Father, that if I finde the cause to bee just and reasonable, -I will desist so farre from hindering your intent, as you shal rather -perceive my fatherly furtherance, and rest truly resolved of my help and -favour. Wherefore faire daughter, neither blush or dismay, or feare to -let me understand your will; for evidently I see, that meere virgin shame -hath made a rapture of your soule, beeing nothing else but those true -splendours of vertue derived from your Auncestors, and shining in you -most gloriously, gracing you with a much richer embellishing, then 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 uppon mine oath -once againe, that if your reasons are such as they ought to be, I will not -faile to accommodate your fancy.</p> - -<p>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 reverence, in signe of dutifull accepting such favour, -thus she answered. Royall Lord and Father, seeing that in your Princely -Court, I have gathered whatsoever may be termed vertuous in me, & -you being the principall instructer of my life, from whom I have learned -those lessons, how maides (of my age) ought to governe and maintaine -themselves: you shall apparently perceive, that neither gazing lookes, -which I ought not to yeelde without your consent, nor pride or arrogancie, -never taught me by you, or the Queene my most honourable -Lady and Mother, are any occasion of my carriage towards them, which -come to make ostentation of their folly in your Court, as if a meere look -of <i>Serictha</i>, were sufficient to yeeld assurance effectually of their desires -victory.</p> - -<p>Nothing (my most Royall Lord and Father) induceth mee to this -kinde of behaviour, 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 have any other private reserved -meaning, then what may best please King <i>Siwalde</i> my Father: let -it suffice Sir, that it remaineth in your power onely, to make an apt election -and choise 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) untill your Highnesse shall nominate the man, to be a meete husband -for <i>Serictha</i>. It is onely you then (my Lord) that beares the true -life-blood of our Ancestors. It is the untainted 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 have sealed up my soule with an absolute determination, -rather to make choise of death, then any way to alter this my warrantable -severity.</p> - -<p>You being a wise King, and the worthie Father of <i>Serictha</i>, 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 lives 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 (neverthelesse) I hold as a matter impossible, if their discord -should be grounded on the sole apprehension of their soules: and -the onely prevention thereof, 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.</p> - -<p>Many meanes there are, whereby to winne the grace of the greatest -King, by employing their paines in worthy occasions, answerable unto -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 endeavouring to shake the simplicity of a bashfull maide: Let them -cleare the Kings high-wayes of Theeves, who make the passages difficult: -or let them expell Pirates from off the Seas, which make our <i>Danish</i> -coasts every way inaccessible. These are such Noble meanes to merit, -as may throw deserved recompence uppon 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 <i>Serictha</i> to behold none, but him who you shall please to give -her: for otherwise, you know her absolute resolve, never to looke any -living man in the face, but onely you my gracious Lord and Father.</p> - -<p>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 gave him, returned her this answer. Understand me wel, faire -daughter; neither am I minded to breake your determination wholly, -nor yet to governe my selfe according to your fancie. I stand indifferently -contented, that untill I have 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 therein to declare your -obedience. What else remaineth beside, for so silly a thing as a Woman -is, and for the private pleasing of so many great Princes and Lords, I will -not endanger any of their lives; because their parents and friends (being -sensible of such losses) may seeke revenge, perhaps to their owne ruine, -and some following scourge to my indiscretion. For I consider (daughter) -that I have neighbours who scarsely love me, and of whom (in time) -I may right my selfe, having received (by their meanes) great wrongs & -injuries. Also I make no doubt, but to manage your love-sute with discretion, -and set such a pleasing proceeding 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 favourably upon some one -man, to reach the height of both our wished desires.</p> - -<p><i>Siwalde</i> was thus determinately resolved, to let his daughter live at -her owne discretion, without any alteration of her continued severitie, -perceiving day by day, that many came still to request her in mariage; & -he could not give 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 favour of <i>Serictha</i>, as but to looke him in -the face. This condition seemed to bee of no meane difficulty, yea, and -so impossible, that many gave over their amorous enterprize: whereof -<i>Serictha</i> was wondrouslie joyfull, seeing her selfe eased of such tedious -importunitie, dulling her eares with their proffered services, and foppish -allegations of fantasticke servitude: such as ydle-headed Lovers do -use to protest before their Mistresses, wherein they may beleeve them, if -they list.</p> - -<p>Among all them that were thus forward in their heate of affection, -there was a young <i>Danish</i> Lord, named <i>Ocharus</i>, the sonne of a Pirate, -called <i>Hebonius</i>, the same man, who having stolne the Sister unto King -<i>Hunguinus</i>, and Sister to <i>Siwalde</i>, & affiancing himselfe to her, was slaine -by King <i>Haldune</i>, and by thus killing him, enjoyed both the Lady, and the -kingdome of the <i>Gothes</i> also, as her inheritance. This <i>Ocharus</i>, relying -much on his comelinesse of person, wealth, power, and valour, but -(above all the rest) on his excellent and eloquent speaking; bestowed his -best endeavour to obtaine <i>Serictha</i>, notwithstanding the contemptible -carriage of the rest towards him; whereupon prevailing for his accesse to -the Princesse, and admitted to speake, as all the other did, he reasoned -with her in this manner.</p> - -<p>Whence may it proceede, Madam, that you being the fairest and wisest -Princesse living at this day in all the Northerne parts, should make so small -account of your selfe, as to denie that, which with honour you may yeeld -to them, as seeke to doe you most humble service; and forgetting the rank -you hold, doe refuse to deigne them recompence in any manner whatsoever, -seeking onely to enjoy you in honourable marriage? Perhaps you are -of opinion, that the gods should become slaves to your beauty, in which -respect, men are utterly unworthy to crave 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 us men; I thinke you covet 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 have wished, and doe desire you: I know also, -that as many have requested you of the King your Father, but the choyce -remaineth in your power, and you being ordained the Judge, to distinguish -the merit of all your Sutors; me thinkes you doe wrong to the office -of a Judge; in not regarding the parties which are in suite, to sentence the -desert of the best and bravest, and so to delay them with no more lingering.</p> - -<p>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 have a Sonne in Law, to revenge -him on the Tyrant of <i>Swetia</i>; who, as you well know, was sometime -the murtherer of your Grand-father <i>Hunguinus</i>, and also of his Father. -If you please to vouchsafe me so much grace and favour, as to make -me the man, whom your heart hath chosen to be your Husband; I sweare -unto you by the honour of a Souldier, that I will undergoe such service, -as the King shall be revenged, you royally satisfied, and my selfe advanced -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 love -may be engraven therein; see there the loyall pursuite of your <i>Ocharus</i>, -who, to save his life, cannot so much as winne one looke from his divine -Mistresse.</p> - -<p>This nicenesse is almost meerely barbarous, that I, wishing to adventure -my life prodigally in your service, 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 <i>Serictha</i>, if you desire the death of your friendly servant -<i>Ocharus</i>, 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 upon me; if my face be so unworthy, -that one beame of your bright Sunnes may not shine upon 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 envious of mine -ease, let one of your women be shee, to pronounce the sentence of life or -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 servants be against your more mercifull -wishes; deale so that I may perceive it, and expresse what compassion -you have of your <i>Ocharus</i>, who coveteth nothing more, then your daily -hearts ease and contentment, with a priviledge of honour above other -Ladies. All this discourse was heard by <i>Serictha</i>, but so little was shee -moved therewith, as shee was farre enough off from returning him any -answer, neither did any of the Gentlewomen attending on her, ever heare -her use the very least word to any of her amorous sollicitors, nor did shee -know any one of them, but by speech onely, which drove them all into -an utter despaire, perceiving no possible meanes whereby to conquer -her.</p> - -<p>The Histories of the Northerne Countries doe declare, that in those -times, the rapes of women were not much respected; and such as pursued -any Lady or Gentlewoman with love, were verily perswaded, that they -never made sufficient proofe of their amourous passions, if they undertooke -not all cunning stratagems, with adventure of their lives to all perils -whatsoever, for the rape or stealth of them, whom they purposed to -enjoy in marriage. As we reade in the <i>Gothes</i> History of <i>Gramo</i>, Sonne to -the King of <i>Denmarke</i>, who being impatiently amourous of the daughter -to the King of the <i>Gothes</i>, and winning the love 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 <i>Gothes</i> and -the <i>Danes</i>. In recompence of which injury, <i>Sibdagerus</i>, King of <i>Norway</i>, -being chosen chiefe Commander of the <i>Swetians</i> & <i>Gothes</i>, entred powerfully -into <i>Denmarke</i>, where first he violated the Sister to King <i>Gramo</i>, and -led away her Daughter, whom in the like manner he made his Spouse, as -the <i>Dane</i> had done the Daughter of <i>Sigtruge</i>, Prince of the <i>Gothes</i>.</p> - -<p>I induce these briefe narrations, onely to shew, that while <i>Ocharus</i> made -honest and affable meanes, to win respect from <i>Serictha</i>, and used all honourable -services to her, as the Daughter of so great a Prince worthily deserved: -some there were, not halfe so conscientious as he, especially one -of the amourous sutors, who being weary of the strange carriages of <i>Serictha</i>, -dissembling to prosecute his purpose no further; prevailed so farre, -that he corrupted one of her Governesses, for secretly training her to such -a place, where the ravisher should lie in ambush to carry her away, so to -enjoy her by pollicy, seeing all other meanes failed for to compasse his -desire.</p> - -<p>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 love a Lady -for her gentillity and vertue; knoweth not how to measure what love is, -neither seeth or conceiveth, how farre the permission of his owne endeavour -extendeth. Moreover, you may observe, that never any age was so -grosse, or men so simple, but even almost from the beginning, avarice 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. <i>Serictha</i>, who shunned the light of all men, and never -distrusted them which kept about her; shee who never knew (except -some naturall sparke gave light to her understanding) 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.</p> - -<p>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 have repented very dearely, if Heaven -had not succoured her innocency, by the helpe of him, who wished -her as well as the ravisher, though their desires were quite contrary; the -one to enjoy her by violence, but the other affecting rather to die, then -doe the least act which might displease her. No sooner was <i>Serictha</i> arrived -at the destined place, where her false Governesse was to deliver her; -but behold a second <i>Paris</i> 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.</p> - -<p>Now the ravisher durst not convey her to his owne abiding, to enjoy -the benefit of his purchase; but haled her into a small thicket of trees, -where, although shee knew the evident perill, whereinto her severe continency -had now throwne her: yet notwithstanding, shee would not lift up -her eyes, to see what he was that had thus stolne her, so firmely shee dwelt -upon grounded deliberation, and such was the vigor of her chaste resolve. -And albeit shee knew a wickednesse (worse then death) preparing for her, -who had no other glory then in her vertue, and desire to live 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 prejudice to honour, when the mind is free and cleere from -consent.</p> - -<p>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 advantage whatsoever, crying out shrilly, and -strugling against him strongly: her outcryes were heard by one, who little -imagined that shee was so neere, whom he loved more dearely then his -owne life, namely, <i>Ocharus</i>; who was walking accidentally alone in this -wood, devising 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 ravished; but he cryed out to the thiefe, saying; -Hand off villaine, let not such a slave as thou, prophane with an unreverend -touch the sacred honour of so chaste a Princesse, who deserveth to -be more royally respected, then thus rudely hurried: Hand off I say, or -else I sweare by her divine perfections, whom I esteeme above all creatures -in this World, to make thee die more miserably, then ever any man -as yet did.</p> - -<p>Whosoever had seene a Lyon or an Ounce rouse himselfe, chafing -when any one adventureth to rob him of his prey; and then with fierce -eyes, mounted creasts, writhed tayles, and sharpened pawes, make against -him that durst to molest him. In the like manner did the ravisher shew -himselfe, and one while snarling, another while bristling the darted disdainefull -lookes at <i>Ocharus</i>, and spake to him in this manner. Vile and -base Sea-thiefe, as thou art, welcome to thy deserved wages, and just repayment -for thy proud presuming. It glads my heart not a little, to meete -thee here, where thou shalt soone perceive what good will I beare thee, -and whether thou be worthy or no to enjoy 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 favour; -when shee shall see what a powerfull arme I have, to punish this -proud insolence of a Pirate.</p> - -<p>This harsh language was so distastfull to <i>Ocharus</i>, that like a Bull, made -angry by the teeth of some Mastive Dogge, or pricked by the point of a -weapon, he ran upon his enemy, and was so roughly welcommed by him, -as it could not easilly be judged which of them had the better advantage. -But in the end Fortune favoured most the honest man, and <i>Ocharus</i> having -overthrowne the robber, hee smote the head of him quite from his -shoulders, which he presented to her, whom he had delivered out of so -great a peril, and thus he spake. You may now behold Madam, whether -<i>Ocharus</i> be a true lover of <i>Sericthaes</i> vertues, or no, and your knowledge -fully resolved, at what end his affection aimeth; as also, how farre his honest -desert extendeth, for you both to love him, and to recompence the -loyall respect he hath used towards you. Never looke on the villaines face, -who strove to shame the King your Fathers Court, by violation of theevery, -the chastest Princesse on the Earth; but regard <i>Ocharus</i>, who is readie -to sacrifice himselfe, if you take as much pleasure in his ruine, as (he thinketh) -hee hath given you contentment, by delivering you from this -Traytor.</p> - -<p>Doth it not appeare unto you Madam, that I have as yet done enough, -whereby to be thought a worthy Husband, for the royall Daughter of -<i>Denmarke</i>? Have I not satisfied the Kings owne Ordinance, by delivering -his Daughter, as already I have done? Will <i>Serictha</i> 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 perceive, that the wages of my devoire, is ranked amongest -those precedent services, which I have 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 unfeigned lover of your modesty, and devoutly honoureth your vertuous -behaviour. And yet Madame, shall I have 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 <i>Ocharus</i>, as to -the rest, who have 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 services: 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.</p> - -<p>No outward signe of kinde acceptation, did any way expresse itselfe -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 resolved, that no violence had bene done unto her.</p> - -<p>The Princesse, sharpely rebuking her women, for leaving her so basely -as they had done, gave charge to one of them (because she would not -seeme altogether negligent & discourteous) that she being gone thence, -she should not faile to thanke <i>Ocharus</i>, for the honest and faithfull service -he had done unto her, which she would continually remember, and -recompence as it lay in her power. Neverthelesse, shee advised him -withall, not to hope of any more advantage 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 reserved -her for another, all his services would availe to no purpose, but rather to -make her the more rigorous towards him.</p> - -<p>This gracious answer, thus given him by her Gentlewoman, althogh -it gave some small contentment to the poore languishing lover: yet hee -saw no assured signe whereon to settle his resolve, but his hopes vanished -away in smoake, as fast as opinion bred them in his braine. And gladly -he would have given over all further amorous solicitings, but by some -private perswasions of her message sent him, which in time might so advance -his services done for her sake, as would derive far greater favours -from her. Whereupon, he omitted no time or place, but as occasion -gave him any gracious permission, still plied her memorie, with his manly -rescuing her from the ravisher, 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 deserve her, as he had done.</p> - -<p>So long he pursued her in this manner, that his speeches seemed hatefull -to her, and devising 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 service, 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 herselfe to paines and servility: 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 uproare -for the Ladies losse, the Father in no meane affliction, the Lovers -well-nere beside their wits, and every one else most greevously tormented, -that a Lady of such worth should so sodainly be gone, and all pursuit -made after her, gaine no knowledge of her.</p> - -<p>In this high tide of sorrow and disaster, what shall we say of the gentle -Lord <i>Ocharus</i>? What judgement can sound the depth of his wofull -extreamity? Fearing least some other theefe had now made a second -stealth of his divine Goddesse; he must needs follow her againe, seeking -quite throughout the world, never more returning backe to the Court, -nor to the place of his owne abiding, untill hee heard tidings of his Mistresse, -or ended his dayes in the search of her. No Village, Town, Cottage, -Castle, or any place else of note or name, did hee leave unsought, -but diligently he searched for <i>Serictha</i>; striving to get knowledge, under -what habit she lived thus concealed, but all his labour was to no effect: -which made him leave the places so much frequented, and visite the solitary -desert shades, entering into all Caves and rusticke habitations, -whereon hee could fasten his eye, to seeke for the lost Treasure of his -soule.</p> - -<p>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 rivers, -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 having got a sight of him, presently covered -her face with a veile. Love, who sate as Sentinell both in the heart -and eye of the gentle <i>Norwegian</i> Lord, as quickly discovered the subtilty -of the faire Shephearddesse, enstructing the soule of <i>Ocharus</i>, that -thus she hid her face, as coveting not to be knowne: whereupon he gathered, -that doubtlesse this was shee, for whom he hadde sought with -such tedious travaile, and therefore going directly unto her, thus hee -spake.</p> - -<p>Gentle Princesse; wherefore do you thus hide your selfe from mee? -Why do you haunt these retreats and desolate abodes, having power to -command over infinite men, that cannot live but by your presence? -What hath moved you Madame, to flye from company, to dwel among -desert Rockes, and serve as a slave, to such as are no way worthy of your -service? Why do you forsake a potent King, whose onely daughter and -hope you are; leaving your countrey and royall traine of Ladies, and so -farre abasing your selfe, to live in the dejected state of a servant, and to -some rusticke clowne or peazant? What reason have you, to despise so -many worthy Lords, that dearely love and honour you, but (above them -all) your poore slave <i>Ocharus</i>, who hath made no spare of his owne life, for -the safety of yours, and also for the defence of your honour? Royal maid, -I am the same man that delivered you from the villaine, who would have -violated your faire chastity; and since then, have not spared any payne -or travell in your search: for whose losse, King <i>Siwalde</i> is in extreme anguish, -the <i>Danes</i> in mourning habites, and <i>Ocharus</i> even at the doore of -death, being no way able to endure your absence.</p> - -<p>Are you of the minde, worthy Madame, that I have not hitherto deserved -so much as one good looke or glance of your eye, in recompence -of so many good & loyall services? If Alas! I am neither ravisher, nor demander -of any unjust requests, or else incivill in my motions: I may merit -one regard of my Mistresse. I require onely so silly a favour, that her -eyes may pay me the wages for all which I have hitherto done in her service. -What would you do Madam, if I were an importunate solicitor, -and requested farre greater matters of you, in just recompence of my labours? -I do not desire, that you should embrace me. I am not so bold, -as to request a kisse of <i>Sericthaes</i>, more then immortall lips. Nor doe I -covet, that she should any otherwise entreate mee, then with such severity -as beseemeth so great a Princesse. I aske no more, but onely to elevate -your chaste eyes, and grace me with one little looke, as being the -man, who for his vertue and loyall affection, hath deserved more then -that favour, 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 <i>Ocharus</i>?</p> - -<p>The Princesse perceiving that it availed nothing to conceale hir selfe, -being by him so apparantly discovered; began now to speake (which she -had never done before, either to him, or any other of her amorous suters) -answering him in this manner. Lord <i>Ocharus</i>, it might suffice you, -that your importunity made me forsake my Fathers Court, and causeth -me to live 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 have presumed to do. For I am resolved, never to -favour you any otherwise, then hitherto I have done; desiring you therefore, -that <i>Serictha</i> wanting an Interpreter to tell you her will, you would -now receive it from her owne mouth, determining sooner to dye, then -alter a jot of her intended purpose.</p> - -<p><i>Ocharus</i> hearing this unwelcome answer, was even upon the point to -have 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 unfitting for a man of his ranke; hee tooke -his leave of her, solemnly promising, not to forget her further pursuite, -but at all times to obey her so long as he lived, although her commaund -was very hard for him to endure. So hee departed thence, not unto the -Court, she being not there, that had the power to enjoyne his presence: -but home to his owne house, where he was no sooner arrived, 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 service, who utterly -despised him, and all his endeavours which he undertooke. He began -to accuse her of great ingratitude, laying over-much respect uppon -her vertue, to have no feeling at all of his loyall sufferings; but meerely -made a mockery of his martyrdome. Heereupon, he concluded to give -over all further affection, to languish no longer for her sake, that hated -him and all his actions.</p> - -<p>While he continued in these melancholly passions, the Princesse, who -all this while had persisted in such strict severity, as astonished the courages -of her stoutest servants; considering (more deliberately) on the -sincere affection of <i>Ocharus</i>, and that vertue onely made him the friend -to her modesty, and not wanton or lascivious appetite; she felt a willing -readinesse in her soule, to gratifie him in some worthy manner, and to -recompence some part of his travailes. Which to effect, she resolved -to follow him (in some counterfeite habite) even 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 served, and who had likewise seen Lord -<i>Ocharus</i> (of whom she had perfect knowledge) when hee conferred with -the Shephearddesse, and enquiring the cause, why hee resorted in that -manner to her; <i>Serictha</i> returned her this answer.</p> - -<p>Mistresse, I make no doubt, but you will be somewhat amazed, and -(perhaps) can hardly credit when you heare, that she who now serveth -you in the poore degree of Shephearddesse, is the onely daughter to <i>Siwalde</i> -King of the <i>Danes</i>: for whose love, so many great Lords have continually -laboured; and that I onely attracted hither <i>Ocharus</i>, the Noble -Sonne of valiant <i>Hebonius</i>, 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 rivals. But if my words may not heerein sufficiently -assure you, I would advise you, to send where <i>Ocharus</i> dwelleth, & there -make further enquiry of him, to the end that you may not imagine me a -lyar. If my speeches do otherwise prevaile with you, and you remain assured, -that I am she, whom your Noble neighbour so deerely affecteth, -albeit I never made any account at all of him: then I do earnestly intreat -you, so much to stand my friend, as to provide some convenient means -for me, whereby I may passe unknowne to the Castle of <i>Ocharus</i>, to revenge -my selfe on his civill honesty, & smile at him hereafter, if he prove -not so cleerely sighted, as to know her being neere him, whom he vaunteth -to love above all women else.</p> - -<p>The good Countrey-woman hearing these wordes, and perceyving -that she had the Princesse in her house, of whose speeches she made not -any doubt, in regard of her stout countenance, gravity, and faire demeanor, -began to rellish something in her minde, farre differing from matter -of common understanding, and therefore roundly replied in this kind -of language.</p> - -<p>Madam (for servant I may no longer call you) I make no question to -the contrary, but that you are derived of high birth; having observed -your behaviour, and womanly carriage. And so much the more I remaine -assured thereof, having seene such great honour done unto you, by -the Noble Lord, and worthy Warriour <i>Ocharus</i>: wherefore, it lieth not -in my power, to impeach your desseignes, much lesse to talke of your -longer service, because you are the Princesse <i>Serictha</i>, whom I am to -performe all humble dutie unto, as being one of your meanest subjects. -And although you were not shee, yet would I not presume any way to -offend you, in regarde of the true and vertuous love, which that good -Knight <i>Ocharus</i> seemeth to beare you. If my company bee needefull for -you, I beseech you to accept it: if not, take whatsoever is mine, which -may any way sted you; for, to make you passe unknowne, I can and will -provide sufficiently, even to your own contentment, and in such strange -manner, as <i>Ocharus</i> (were he never so cleerely sighted) shal be deceived, -you being attired in those fashion garments, which heere in these parts -are usually worne.</p> - -<p><i>Serictha</i> being wonderously joyfull at her answer, suffred hir to paint, -or rather soile her faire face, with the juice of divers hearbes and rootes, -and cloathed her in such an habite as those women use to weare that live -in the mountaines of <i>Norway</i>, upon the sea-coast fronting <i>Great-Britain</i>. -Being thus disguised, confidently she went, to beguile the eie of her dearest -friend, and so to returne backe againe from him, having affoorded -him such a secret favour, in requitall of his honourable services; delivering -her out of so great a danger, and comming to visite her in so solitarie -a life. Nor would she have the womans company any further, then -till she came within the sight of <i>Ocharus</i> his Castle; where when she was -arrived (he being then absent) the mother unto the Noble Gentleman, -gave her courteous welcome; 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.</p> - -<p>When <i>Ocharus</i> was returned home, he received advertisement by his -mother, concerning the arrivall 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 travailes, and passed honest offices. Observing all her actions and -gestures, her wonted rigour never bending one jot, or gave way to her -eye to looke upon any man; he grew the better assured, that she was the -daughter to King <i>Siwalde</i>. 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 give a final end to his greevous afflictions.</p> - -<p>Upon a watch-word given to his Mother, he pretended, and so caused -it to be noised through the house, that he was to marry a very honourable -Lady; which the constant and chaste maide verily beleeved; and -therefore gave the more diligent attendance (as a new-come servant) -to see all things in due decency, as no one could expresse herselfe more -ready, because she esteemed him above all other men. Yet such was the -obstinate opinion she concerned of her owne precisenesse, as she would -rather suffer all the flames of love, then expresse the least shew of desire -to any man living. Neverthelesse, she was inwardly offended, that any -other should have the honour, to make her vaunt of enjoying <i>Ocharus</i>; -whom (indeed) she coveted, and thought him only worthy in her heart, -to be Son in law to the King of <i>Denmarke</i>.</p> - -<p>Now, as the Mother was very seriously busied in preparing the Castle, -for receiving the pretended Bride; shee employed her new Mayde -(<i>Serictha</i> I meane) as busily as any of the rest. In the meane while, <i>Ocharus</i> -was laid upon a bed, well noting all her carriage and behaviour, shee -having a lighted Candle in her hand, without any Candlesticke to hold -it in. As all the servants (both men and maids) were running hastily from -place to place, to cary such occasions as they were commanded, the candle -was consumed so neere to <i>Sericthaes</i> fingers, that it burned hir hand. -She, not to faile a jote in her height of mind, and to declare that her corage -was invincible; was so farre off from casting away the small snuffe -which offended her, that she rather graspt it the more strongly, even to -the enflaming of her owne flesh, which gave light to the rest about their -businesse. A matter (almost) as marvellous, as the acte of the noble <i>Romane</i>, -who gave his hand to be burned, in presence of the <i>Tuscane</i> King, -that had besiedged <i>Rome</i>. 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.</p> - -<p><i>Ocharus</i>, who (as we have already saide) observed every thing that -<i>Serictha</i> did; perceiving that she spake not one worde, albeit her hand -burned in such fierce manner, was much astonished at her sprightly mind. -And as he was about to advise her, to hurle away the fire so much offending -her; Curiositie (meerely naturall unto Women) made the Ladie -lift uppe her eyes, to see (by stealth) whether her friend had noted -her invincible constancy, or no. Heereby <i>Ocharus</i> 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 used, 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 ever 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 loved and desired, whom I -have followed with such painefull travels, exposing my life to infinite perils -in your service: you have seene and lookt on him, who never craved -any thing of you, but onely this favour, whereof you cannot bereave me -againe, because the Gods themselves, at such time as I least expected it, -have bestowne it on me, as my deserved recompence, and worthy reward.</p> - -<p>In the delivery of these words, he kissed and embraced her a thousand -times, shee not using 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 armes; but rather, evident -signes of hearty contentment, yet in very bashfull and modest manner, -willing enough to accept his loving kindnesse, yet not wandring from -her wonted chaste carriage. He being favourably excused, for the outward -expression of his amourous behaviour 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, never (with her will) to have any other -Husband but <i>Ocharus</i>, who (above all other) had best deserved her, -by his generosity, vertue, manly courage, and valiancy; whereof he might -the better assure himselfe, because (of her owne voluntary disposition) -shee followed to find him out, not for any other occasion, but to revenge -her selfe (by this honest Office) for all that he had done or undertaken, to -winne the grace and love of the King of <i>Denmarkes</i> Daughter, to whom -he presented such dutifull service.</p> - -<p><i>Ocharus</i>, 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 stratagem 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 <i>Serictha</i>. -Not long had these lovers lived in the lawfull and sacred rites of -marriage, but King <i>Siwalde</i> was advertised, that his Daughter had given -her consent to <i>Ocharus</i>, and received him as her noble Husband. The party -was not a jot 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 error 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 <i>Ocharus</i> of overbold -arrogancy, he being such a great and powerfull King, to be so -lightly respected by his Subject, and especially in the marriage of his -Daughter.</p> - -<p>But <i>Serictha</i>, 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 adventurous then she was before. She took the matter -in hand, went to her Father, who welcommed her most lovingly, and so -pleasing were her speeches, carried with such wit and womanly discretion, -that nothing wanted to approve what she had done. Matters which -he had never knowne, or so much as heard of, were now openly revealed, -how <i>Ocharus</i> had delivered her from the ravisher, what worthie respect -he then used 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 advise of his Sonne in -Law, whom so highly he esteemed, and liked so respectively of him, and -his race; that his Queene dying, hee married with the Sister to <i>Ocharus</i>, -going hand in band with the gentle and modest Princesse <i>Serictha</i>.</p> - -<p>This Novell of <i>Dioneus</i>, was commended by all the company, and so -much the rather, because it was free from all folly and obscennesse. And -the Queene perceiving, 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 <i>Philostratus</i>, saying; The worthy Discourse -of <i>Dioneus</i>, 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 us all; and so I yeeld -both my place and honour to <i>Philostratus</i>, I hope with the good liking of -all our assistants: as plainly appeareth by their instant carriage towards -him, with all their heartiest love and sufferages.</p> - -<p>Whereupon <i>Philostratus</i>, 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, everie 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. Lovely Ladies, I would have you to knowe, that -since the time of ability in me, to distinguish betweene good and evill, I -have alwayes bene subject (perhaps by the meanes of some beautie heere -among us) to the proud and imperious dominion of love, with expression -of all duty, humility, and most intimate desire to please: yet all hath -prooved to no purpose, but still I have bin rejected for some other, whereby -my condition hath falne from ill to worse, and so still it is likely, even -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 -cases as are most conformable to my calamity, namely of such, whose love -hath had unhappy ending, because I await no other issue of mine; nor willingly -would I be called by any other name, but onely, the miserable and -unfortunate Lover.</p> - -<p>Having thus spoken, he arose againe; granting leave to the rest, to recreate -themselves till supper time. The Garden was very faire and spacious, -affoording large limits for their severall walkes; the Sun being already -so low descended, that it could not be offensive to anyone, the Connies, -Kids, and young Hindes skipping every where about them, to their -no meane pleasure and contentment. <i>Dioneus</i> & <i>Fiammetta</i>, sate singing -together, of <i>Messire Guiglielmo</i> and the Lady of <i>Vertue. Philomena</i> and -<i>Pamphilus</i> playing at the Chesse, all sporting themselves as best they -pleased. But the houre of Supper being come, and the Tables covered -about the faire fountaine, they sate downe and supt in most loving manner. -Then <i>Philostratus</i>, not to swerve from the course which had beene -observed by the Queenes before him, so soone as the Tables were taken -away, gave command, that Madam <i>Lauretta</i> 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 have 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 lovely, so needs must be -whatsoever commeth from you, therefore let us heare such as you have. -Madam <i>Lauretta</i>, giving enstruction to the Chorus, prepared, and began -in this manner.</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">The Song.<br /></span></i> -</div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">No soule so comfortlesse,<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Hath more cause to expresse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like woe and heavinesse,<br /></span> -<span class="i5">As I poore amorous Maide.<br /></span> -</i></div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">He that did forme the Heavens and every Starre,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Made me as best him pleased,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lovely and gracious, no Element at jarre,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or else in gentle breasts to moove sterne Warre,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">But to have strifes appeased<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where Beauties eye should make the deepest scarre.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And yet when all things are confest,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Never was any soule distrest,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Like mine poore amorous Maide.<br /></span> -<span class="i11">No soule so comfortlesse, &c.<br /></span> -</i></div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">There was a time, when once I was helde deare,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Blest were those happy dayes:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Numberlesse Love-suites whispred in mine eare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All of faire hope, but none of desperate feare;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And all sung Beauties praise.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why should blacke clowdes obscure so bright a cleare?<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And why should others swimme in joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And no heart drowned in annoy,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Like mine poore amorous Maide?<br /></span> -<span class="i11">No soule so comfortlesse, &c.<br /></span> -</i></div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">Well may I curse that sad and dismall day,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">When in unkinde exchange;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Another Beauty did my hopes betray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stole my dearest Love from me away:<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Which I thought very strange,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Considering vowes were past, and what else may<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Assure a loyall Maidens trust,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Never was Lover so unjust,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Like mine poore amorous Maide.<br /></span> -<span class="i11">No soule so comfortlesse, &c.<br /></span> -</i></div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">Come then kinde Death, and finish all my woes,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Thy helpe is now the best.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come lovely Nymphes, lend hands mine eyes to close,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let him wander wheresoere he goes,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Vaunting of mine unrest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beguiling others by his treacherous showes,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Grave on my Monument,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">No true love was worse spent,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Then mine poore amorous Maide.<br /></span> -<span class="i11">No soule so comfortlesse, &c.<br /></span> -</i></div></div> - -<p>So did Madam <i>Lauretta</i> finish her Song, which beeing well observed of -them all, was understood by some in divers kinds: some alluding it one -way, & others according to their own apprehensions, but all consenting, -that both it was an excellent Ditty, well devised, and most sweetly sung. -Afterward, lighted Torches being brought, because the Stars had already -richly spangled all the heavens, and the fit houre of rest approaching: -the King commanded them all to their Chambers, where wee meane to -leave them untill the next morning.</p> - - -<h4><i>The End of the Third Day.</i></h4> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="The_Fourth_Day" id="The_Fourth_Day">The Fourth Day.</a></h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein all the severall Discourses, are under the -Government of Honourable</i> Philostratus: <i>And concerning such persons, -whose Loves have had successelesse ending.</i></h4> - -<h4>The Induction unto the ensuing -Novelles.</h4> - - -<p>Most worthy Ladies, I have alwayes heard, as well -by the sayings of the judicious, as also by mine -owne observation and reading, that the impetuous -and violent windes of envy, do sildome blow -turbulently; but on the highest Towers and tops -of the trees most eminently advanced. Yet (in -mine opinion) I have found my selfe much deceived; -because, by striving with my very uttermost -endeavour, to shunne the outrage of those implacable winds; I have laboured -to go, not onely by plaine and even pathes, but likewise through -the deepest vallies. As very easily may be seene and observed in the reading -of these few small Novels, which I have written not only in our vulgar -<i>Florentine</i> prose, without any ambitious title: but also in a most humble -stile, so low and gentle as possibly I could. And although I have bene -rudely shaken, yea, almost halfe unrooted, by the extreame agitation of -those blustering winds, and torne in peeces by that base back-biter, envy: -yet have 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 observed by the wise, to bee most -true; That nothing is without envy in this world, but misery onely.</p> - -<p>Among variety of opinions, faire Ladies; some, seeing these Novelties, -spared not to say; That I have bene over-pleasing to you, and wandered -too farre from mine owne respect, imbasing my credit and repute, by delighting -my selfe too curiously, for the fitting of your humours, and have -extolled your worth too much, with addition of worse speeches then I -meane to utter. Others, seeming to expresse more maturity of judgment, -have likewise said, That it was very unsuteable for my yeares, to meddle -with womens wanton pleasures, or contend to delight you by the verie -least of my labours. Many more, making shew of affecting my good fame -and esteeme, say; I had done much more wisely, to have kept mee with -the Muses at <i>Parnassus</i>, 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 travailes, would make you beleeve, -that such matters as I have 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 perceive (vertuous Ladies) how while I labour -in your service, I am agitated and molested with these blusterings, -and bitten even to the bare bones, by the sharpe and venomous teeth of -envy; all which (as heaven best knoweth) I gladly endure, and with good -courage.</p> - -<p>Now, albeit it belongeth onely to you, to defend me in this desperate -extremity; yet, notwithstanding all their utmost malice, I will make no -spare of my best abilities, and, without answering them any otherwise -then is fitting, will quietly keepe their slanders from mine eares, with -some sleight reply, yet not deserving to be dreamt on. For I apparantly -perceive, that (having not already attained to the third part of my pains) -they are growne to so great a number, and presume very farre uppon my -patience: they may encrease, except they be repulsed 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 serve for me in their resistance. -But before I come to answer any one of them, I will relate a Tale in mine -owne favour; 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 untold, may sufficiently expresse, it is not to be numbred -among the rest to come.</p> - -<p>By way then of familiar discourse, and speaking to my malicious detractors, -I say, that a long while since, there lived in our City, a Citizen who -was named <i>Philippo Balduccio</i>, a man but of meane condition, yet verie -wealthy, well qualified, and expert in many things appertaining unto his -calling. He had a wife whom he loved 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, leaving 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 jewell of his joy. -And being thus divided from the company which he most esteemed: he -determined also to separate himselfe from the world, addicting al his endeavours -to the service of God; and applying his yong sonne likewise, to -the same holy exercises. Having given away all his goods for Gods sake, -he departed to the Mountaine <i>Asinaio</i>, where he made him a small Cell, -and lived there with his little sonne, onely upon 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 devout prayers, leading this kinde of life for many yeares -together, not permitting him ever to goe forth of the Cell, or shewing -him any other but himselfe.</p> - -<p>The good old man used divers times to go to <i>Florence</i>, where having -received (according to his opportunities) the almes of divers 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 resolved him: whereuppon, the youth thus spake unto -him. Father, you are now growne very aged, and hardly can endure such -painfull travell: why do you not let me go to <i>Florence</i>, that by making -me knowne to your well disposed friends, such as are devoutly addicted -both to God, and you; I, who am young, and better able to endure travaile -then you are, may go thither to supply our necessities, and you take -your ease in the mean while? The aged man, perceiving the great growth -of his Sonne, and thinking him to be so well instructed in Gods service, -as no wordly vanities could easily allure him from it; did not dislike the -Lads honest motion, but when he went next to <i>Florence</i>, tooke him thither -along with him.</p> - -<p>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 never 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 resolved 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; whereto -the olde man replyed thus. Sonne, cast downe thy lookes unto 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.</p> - -<p>Heere grew a matter of no meane mervaile, that hee who had never -seene any women before now; appeared not to respect the faire Churches, -Palaces, goodly horses, Golde, Silver, or any thing else which he -had seene; but, as fixing his affection onely upon this sight, sodainly said -to the old man. Good Father, do so much for me, as to let me have one -of these Gozlings. Alas Sonne (replyed the Father) holde thy peace I -pray thee, and do not desire any such naughty things. Then by way of demand, -he thus proceeded, saying. Father, are these naughty things made -of themselves? 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 judgement, I have 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 have shewn me. And -therefore Father, if either you love me, or have any care of me, let mee -have one of these 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. Perceiving -presently, that Nature had farre greater power then his Sonnes -capacity and understanding; which made him repent, for fondly bringing -his sonne to <i>Florence</i>.</p> - -<p>Having 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 envious depravers: such as have saide (faire Ladies) that I am double -blame-worthy, in seeking to please you, and that you are also over-pleasing -to me; which freely I confesse before all the world, that you are -singularly pleasing to me, and I have stroven how to please you effectually. -I would demand of them (if they seeme so much amazed heereat,) -considering, I never knew what belonged to true love kisses, amorous -embraces, and their delectable fruition, so often received from your graces; -but onely that I have seene, and do yet daily behold, your commendable -conditions, admired beauties, noble adornments by nature, and -(above all the rest) your womenly and honest conversation. If hee that -was nourished, bred, and educated, on a savage solitary Mountain, within -the confines of a poore small Cell, having no other company then his -Father: If such a one, I say, uppon the very first sight of your sexe, could -so constantly confesse, that women were onely worthy of affection, and -the object which (above 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 endeavour likewise to please you with my utmost -paines? Never had the auspitious heavens allowed me life, but onely to -love you; and from my very infancie, mine intentions have alwaies bene -that way bent: feeling what vertue flowed from your faire eies, understanding -the mellifluous accents of your speech, whereto the enkindled -flames of your sighes gave no meane grace. But remembring especially, -that nothing could so please an Hermite, as your divine perfections, an -unnurtured Lad, without understanding, and little differing from a meere -brutish beast: undoubtedly, whosoever loveth not women, and desireth -to be affected of them againe; may well be ranked among these women-haters, -speaking out of cankred spleene, and utterly ignorant of the sacred -power (as also the vertue) of naturall affection, whereof they seeming so -carelesse, the like am I of their depraving.</p> - -<p>Concerning them that touch me with mine age; Do not they know, -that although Leeks have white heads, yet the blades of them are alwaies -greene? But referring them to their flouts and taunts, I answer, that I shal -never hold it any disparagement to mee, so long as my life endureth, to -delight my selfe with those exercises, which <i>Guido Cavalconti</i>, and <i>Dante -Alighieri</i>, already aged, as also <i>Messer Cino de Pistoia</i>, 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 -approove 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.</p> - -<p>Now, for my dwelling at <i>Parnassus</i> with the Muses, I confesse their -counsell to be very good: but wee cannot alwayes continue with them, -nor they with us. And yet neverthelesse, when any man departeth from -them, they delighting themselves, to see such things as may bee thought -like them, do not therein deserve 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 have a lively 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 have bin the occasion of my composing a thousand Verses, -whereas the Muses never caused me to make so much as one. Verie true -it is, that they gave me good assistance, and taught me how I shold compose -them, yea, and directed me in writing of these Novels. And how -basely soever they judge of my studies, yet have the Muses never scorned -to dwell with me, perhaps for the respective service, and honourable resemblance -of those Ladies with themselves, whose vertues I have not -spared to commend by them. Wherefore, in the composition of these -varieties, I have not strayed so farre from <i>Parnassus</i>, nor the Muses; as in -their silly conjectures they imagine.</p> - -<p>But what shall I say to them, who take so great compassion on my povertie, -as they advise me to get something, whereon to make my living? -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 -drive me to crave kindnesse of them; questionles, they would then say: -Goe, seeke comfort among thy fables and follies. Yet I would have them -know, that poore Poets have alwayes found more among their fables & -fictions; then many rich men ever 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 inventions and fables: whereas on -the contrary, a great number of other busier braines, seeking to gaine -more then would serve them to live on; have utterly runne uppon their -owne ruine, and overthrowne themselves for ever. What should I say -more? To such men, as are either so suspitious of their owne charitie, or -of my necessity, whensoever it shall happen: I can answere (I thanke my -God for it) with the Apostle; I know how to abounde, & 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.</p> - -<p>For them that are so inquisitive into my discourses, to have 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 jot discordant from my writing; -and then I would freely confesse, that they had some reason to reprehend -me, and I should endeavour to make them amends. But untill -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 projected -to my selfe, saying of them, as they do of me.</p> - -<p>Thus holding them all sufficiently answered for this time, I say (most -worthy Ladies) that by heavens 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, driving it from one place to another; or, carrying it up to the -aire, many times it falleth downe againe on mens heads, yea, upon 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 ever I strove to please you with my uttermost abilities in any -thing, surely I must now contend to expresse it more then ever. For, I -know right well, that no man can say with reason, except some such as -my selfe, who love and honour you, that we do any otherwise then as nature -hath commanded us; and to resist her lawes, requires a greater and -more powerfull strength then ours: and the contenders against her supreame -priviledges, have either laboured meerely in vaine, or else incurred -their owne bane. Which strength, I freely confesse my selfe not to -have, neither covet 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 use it on mine own behalfe. -Wherefore, I would advise them that thus checke and controule mee, to -give over, and be silent; and if their cold humours cannot learne to love, -let them live still in their frostie complexion, delighting themselves in their -corrupted appetites: suffering me to enjoy mine owne, for the little while -I have to live; and this is all the kindnesse I require of them.</p> - -<p>But now it is time (bright beauties) to returne whence we parted, and -to follow our former order begun, because it may seeme we have wandered -too farre. By this time the Sun had chased the Starre-light from the -heavens, and the shadie moisture from the ground, when <i>Philostratus</i> 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 <i>Fiammetta</i>, that she should give beginning -to the dayes Novels: when she, without any longer delaying, began in -this gracious manner.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Tancrede_Prince_of_Salerne_caused_the_amorous_friend_of_his_daughter_to_be" id="Tancrede_Prince_of_Salerne_caused_the_amorous_friend_of_his_daughter_to_be">Tancrede, <i>Prince of</i> Salerne, <i>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.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The first Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is declared the power of Love, and their cruelty justly reprehended, -who imagine to make the vigour thereof cease, by abusing or killing one of -the Lovers.</i></h4> - - -<p>Our King (most Noble and vertuous Ladies) hath -this day given us a subject, 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 reviving the teares of others, -to bedew our owne cheekes withall. Nor can any -such argument be spoken of, without moving compassion -both in the reporters, and hearers. But (perhaps) it was his highnesse -pleasure, to moderate the delights which we have already had. Or -whatsoever else hath provoked him thereto, seeing it is not lawfull for -mee, to alter or contradict his appointment; I will recount an accident -very pittiful, or rather most unfortunate, and well worthy to bee graced -with our teares.</p> - -<p><i>Tancrede</i>, Prince of <i>Salerne</i> (which City, before the Consulles of <i>Rome</i> -held dominion in that part of <i>Italy</i>, 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 Lovers, especially one of them, being both neere and deere -unto 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 loved and esteemed, as never was -any childe more deerely affected of a Father: and so farre extended his -over-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 divers yeares) the age meete for marriage. Neverthelesse, at -length, he matched her with the Sonne to the Duke of <i>Capua</i>, who lived -no long while with her; but left her in a widdowed estate, and then shee -returned home to her father againe.</p> - -<p>This Lady, had all the most absolute perfections, both of favour and -feature, as could be wished in any woman, yong, queintly disposed, and -of admirable understanding, more (perhappes) then was requisite in so -weake a bodie. Continuing thus in Court with the King her Father, who -loved her beyond all his future hopes; like a Lady of great and glorious -magnificence, she lived in all delights & pleasure. She well perceiving, -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 private consultations, to -make choise of some one especiall friend or favourite (if Fortune would -prove 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 brave Gentlemen, and others of inferiour -quality, as commonly the Courts of Kings & Princes are, whose -carriage and demeanor she very heedfully observed. There was a yong -Gentleman among all the rest, a servant to her Father, and named <i>Guiscardo</i>, -a man not derived from any great descent by bloode, yet much -more Noble by vertue and commendable behaviour, 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 Bavin to take flame, yet kept so closely as -possibly she could; as Ladies are warie enough in their love.</p> - -<p>The yong Gentleman, though poore, being neither blocke nor dullard, -perceived what he made no outward shew of, and understood 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 loving mutually (yet secretly) in this manner, -and shee coveting nothing more, then to have private conference -with him, yet not daring to trust anyone with so important a matter; at -length she devised a new cunning stratageme, to compasse her longing -desire, and acquaint him with her private purpose, which proved to bee -in this manner. Shee wrote a Letter, concerning what was the next day -to be done, for their secret meeting together; and conveying it within -the joynt of an hollow Cane, in jesting manner threw it to <i>Guiscardo</i>, saying; -Let your man make use of this, insted of a paire of bellowes, when -he meaneth to make fire in your chamber. <i>Guiscardo</i> taking up the Cane, -and considering with himselfe, that neither was it given, or the wordes -thus spoken, but doubtlesse on some important occasion: went unto his -lodging with the Cane, where viewing it respectively, he found it to be -cleft, and opening it with his knife, found there the written Letter enclosed.</p> - -<p>After he had reade it, and well considered on the service therein concerned; -he was the most joyfull man of the world, and began to contrive -his aptest meanes, for meeting with his gracious Mistresse, and according -as she had given him direction. In a corner of the Kings Palace, it -being seated on a rising hill, a cave had long beene made in the body of -the same hill, which received no light into it, but by a small spiracle or -vent-loope, made out ingeniously on the hills side. And because it hadde -not in long time bene frequented, by the accesse of any body, that vent-light -was over-growne with briars and bushes, which almost engirt it -round about. No one could descend into this cave 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 cave 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.</p> - -<p>But Love, 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 discovered -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 cave; observing the loope-light, & -had made it commodious for her purpose, shee gave knowledge thereof -to <i>Guiscardo</i>, to have him devise 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 hills side, and given it a -larger entrance for his safer passage; he provided a Ladder of cords, with -steppes sufficient for his descending and ascending, as also a wearing sute -made of leather, to keepe his skinne unscratched of the thornes, and to avoide -all suspition of his resorting thither. In this manner went he to the -saide loope-hole the night following, and having 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 cave, and there -attended the comming of his Lady.</p> - -<p>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 leave her alone in her Chamber, and not -to returne untill she called for them, locking the doore her selfe for better -security. Then opened she the doore of the cave, and going downe -the staires, found there her amorous friend <i>Guiscardo</i>, whom she saluting -with a chaste and modest kisse; caused him to ascend up the stayres with -her into her chamber. This long desired, and now obtained meeting, -caused the two deerely affecting Lovers, in kinde discourse of amorous -argument (without incivill or rude demeanor) to spend there the most -part of that day, to their hearts joy and mutuall contentment. And having -concluded on their often meeting there, in this cunning & concealed -sort; <i>Guiscardo</i> went downe into the cave againe, the Princesse making -the doore fast after him, and then went forth among her Women. -So in the night season, <i>Guiscardo</i> ascended uppe againe by his Ladder of -cords, and covering the loope-hole with brambles and bushes, returned -(unseene of any) to his owne lodging: the cave being afterward guilty of -their often meeting there in this manner.</p> - -<p>But Fortune, who hath alwayes bin a fatall enemy to lovers stolne felicities, -became envious of their thus secret meeting, and overthrew (in -an instant) all their poore happinesse, by an accident most spightfull and -malicious. The King had used divers dayes before, after dinner time, to -resort all alone to his daughters Chamber, there conversing with her in -most loving manner. One unhappy day amongst the rest, when the Princesse, -being named <i>Ghismonda</i>, was sporting in her privat 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 have 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 upon the bed; his body being covered with the -curtaine, as if he hid himselfe purposely; hee mused on so many matters, -untill at last he fell fast asleepe.</p> - -<p>It hath bin observed as an ancient Adage, that when disasters are ordained -to any one, commonly they prove to be inevitable, as poore <i>Ghismonda</i> -could witnesse too well. For, while the King thus slept, shee having -(unluckily) appointed another meeting with <i>Guiscardo</i>, left hir Gentlewomen -in the Garden, and stealing softly into her Chamber, having -made all fast and sure, for being descried by any person: opened the doore -to <i>Guiscardo</i>, 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 usuall kinde conference againe, with sighes and -loving kisses mingled among them. It chanced that the King awaked, & -both hearing and seeing this familiarity of <i>Guiscardo</i> with his Daughter, -he became extreamly confounded with greefe thereat. Once he intended, -to cry out for helpe, to have 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 less disgrace to himselfe, performe what hee had rashly -intended to do.</p> - -<p>The poore discovered Lovers, having ended their amorous interparlance, -without suspition of the Kings being so neer in person, or any els, -to betray their over-confident trust; <i>Guiscardo</i> descended againe into the -Cave, and she leaving the Chamber, returned to her women in the Garden; -all which <i>Tancrede</i> too well observed, and in a rapture of fury, departed -(unseene) into his owne lodging. The same night, about the houre -of mens first sleepe, and according as he had given order; <i>Guiscardo</i> was -apprehended, even 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. <i>Guiscardo</i>, the love & -respect I have used towards thee, hath not deserved the shameful wrong -which thou hast requited me withall, and as I have seene with mine owne -eyes this day. Whereto <i>Guiscardo</i> could answer nothing else, but onely -this: Alas my Lord! Love is able to do much more, then either you, or -I. Whereupon, <i>Tancrede</i> commanded, that he should bee secretly well -guarded, in a neere adjoining Chamber, and on the next day, <i>Ghismonda</i> -having (as yet) heard nothing heereof, the Kings braine being infinitely -busied and troubled, after dinner, and as he often had used 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.</p> - -<p><i>Ghismonda</i>, I was once grounded in a setled perswasion, that I truely -knew thy vertue, and honest integrity of life; and this beleefe could never -have bene altred in mee, by any sinister reports whatsoever, had not -mine eyes seene, and mine eares heard the contrary. Nor did I so much -as conceive a thought either of thine affection, or private conversing -with any man, but onely he that was to be thy husband. But now, I my -selfe being able to avouch 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 have 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 converse with that silly yong man <i>Guiscardo</i>, -one of very meane and base descent, and by mee (even for Gods -sake) from his very youngest yeares, brought uppe to this instant in my -Court; wherein thou hast given me much affliction of minde, and so overthrowne -my senses, as I cannot wel imagine how I should deale with -thee. For him, whom I have this night caused to be surprized, even as he -came forth of your close contrived conveyance, and detaine as my prisoner, -I have resolved 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 unfeigned affection I -bare thee, as never any father could expresse more to his child: and then -againe, thou hast kindled a most just indignation in me, by thine immodest -and wilfull folly, and whereas Nature pleadeth pardon for the one, -yet justice standeth up against the other, and urgeth cruell severity against -thee: neverthelesse, before I will determine upon 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.</p> - -<p>Having thus spoken, he hung downe the head in his bosome, weeping -as abundantly, as if it had beene a childe severely disciplinde. On the other -side, <i>Ghismonda</i> hearing the speeches of her Father, and perceiving -withall, that not onely her secret love was discovered, but also <i>Guiscardo</i> -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 unto: but rather, with -height of courage, controling feare or servile basenesse, and declaring invincible -fortitude in her very lookes, shee concluded with her selfe, rather -then to urge any humble perswasions, shee would lay her life downe at -the stake. For plainely shee perceived, that <i>Guiscardo</i> already was a dead -man in Law, and death was likewise as welcome to her, rather then the -deprivation of her Love; 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.</p> - -<p><i>Tancrede</i>, to denie what I have done, or to entreate any favour from -you, is now no part of my disposition: for as the one can little availe me, -so shall not the other any way advantage me. Moreover, I covet 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 have loved, and still doe, honourable <i>Guiscardo</i>, purposing -the like so long as I shall live, which will be but a small while: but if it -bee possible to continue the same affection after death, it is for ever -vowed to him onely. Nor did mine owne womanish weaknesse so much -thereto induce me, as the matchlesse vertues shining cleerely in <i>Guiscardo</i>, -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, have begotten a Daughter of the selfe same composition, and not -made of stone or yron. Moreover, 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 evermore were exercised -in Armes; yet you should likewise understand, that negligence and idle -delights, have mighty power, not onely in yong people, but also in them -of greatest yeeres.</p> - -<p>I being then made of flesh and blood, and so derived from your selfe; -having 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 -subject to naturall desires, wherein such knowledge as I have once already -had, in the estate of my marriage, perhaps might move a further intelligence -of the like delights, according to the better ability of strength, -which exceeding all capacity of resistance, induced a second motive to -affection, answerable to my time and youthfull desires, and so (like a yong -woman) I became amorous againe; yet did I strive, even with all my utmost -might, and best vertuous faculties abiding in me, no way to disgrace -either you or my selfe, as (in equall censure) yet I have not done. But Nature -is above all humane power, and Love, commanded by Nature, hath -prevailed for Love, joyning with Fortune: in meere pity 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, howsoever you became instructed, or (perhaps) -found it out by accident; so it was, and I denie it not.</p> - -<p>Nor did I make election of <i>Guiscardo</i> by chance, or rashly, as many -women doe, but by deliberate counsell in my soule, and most mature advise; -I chose him above all other, and having his honest harmelesse conversation, -mutually we enjoyed our hearts contentment. Now it appeareth, -that I having not offended but by love; in imitation of vulgar opinion, -rather then truth: you seeke to reprove 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 evident, that you doe -not so much checke my fault, as the ordination of Fortune; who many -times advanceth men of meanest esteeme, and abaseth them of greater -merit. But leaving this discourse, let us looke into the originall of things, -wherein wee are first to observe, that from one masse or lumpe of flesh, -both we, and all other received 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 unnoble: now althogh contrary -use did afterward hide and conceale this Law, yet was it not therefore -banished from Nature or good manners. In which respect, whosoever -did execute all his actions by vertue, declared himselfe openly to be -noble; and he that tearmed him otherwise, it was an error in the miscaller, -and not in the person so wrongfully called; as the very same priviledge -is yet in full force among us at this day.</p> - -<p>Cast an heedfull eye then (good Father) upon all your Gentlemen, and -advisedly examine their vertues, conditions and manner of behaviour. -On the other side, observe those parts remaining in <i>Guiscardo</i>: and then, -if you will judge 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 never -credited from the report or judgement of any person; but onely by your -speeches, and mine owne eyes as true witnesses. Who did ever more -commend <i>Guiscardo</i>, extolling all those singularities in him, most requisite -to be in an honest vertuous man; then you your selfe have done? Nor -neede you to be sorry, or ashamed of your good opinion concerning -him; for, if mine eyes have not deceived my judgement, you never -gave him the least part of praise, but I have knowne much more in him, -then ever your words were able to expresse: wherefore, if I have beene -any way deceived, truly the deceit proceeded onely from you. How will -you then maintaine, that I have 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 -have not bestowne place of more preferment, on a man so honest and -well deserving, and having beene so long a time your servant. Neverthelesse, -poverty impaireth not any part of noble Nature, but wealth hurries -it into horrible confusions. Many Kings and great Princes have -heretofore beene poore, when divers of them that have delved into the -Earth, and kept Flockes in the Feld, have beene advanced to riches, and -exceeded the other in wealth.</p> - -<p>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 have resolved now in your extremity of yeeres, to -doe that which your younger dayes evermore despised, I meane, to become -cruell; use your utmost cruelty against me, for I will never entreate -you to the contrary, because I am the sole occasion of this offence, if it -doe deserve the name of an offence. And this I dare assure you, that if -you deale not with me, as you have done already, or intend to <i>Guiscardo</i>, -mine owne hands shall act as much: and therefore give over 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 have deserved it.</p> - -<p>The King knew well enough the high spirit of his Daughter, but yet -(neverthelesse) he did not beleeve, that her words would prove actions, -or shee doe as shee saide. And therefore parting from her, and without -intent of using 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 <i>Guiscardo</i>) 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 <i>Guiscardo</i>, sending it by -one of his most familiar servants to his Daughter, with command also to -use these words to her. Thy Father hath sent thee this present, to comfort -thee with that thing which most of all thou affectest, even as thou -hast comforted him with that which he most hated.</p> - -<p><i>Ghismonda</i>, 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, whensoever any crosse accident should come from her Father; -whereupon, when the messenger from her Father had delivered her the -present, and uttered 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 certainely, that it was the heart of -<i>Guiscardo</i>; then looking stearnely on the servant, thus she spake unto him. -My honest friend, it is no more then right and justice, that so worthy a -heart as this is, should have any worser grave then gold, wherein my Father -hath dealt most wisely. So, lifting the heart up to her mouth; and -sweetly kissing it, shee proceeded thus. In all things, even till this instant, -(being the utmost period of my life) I have evermore found my Fathers -love most effectuall to me; but now it appeareth farre greater, then -at any time heretofore: and therefore from my mouth, thou must deliver -him the latest thankes that ever I shall give him, for sending me such an -honourable present.</p> - -<p>These words being ended, holding the Cup fast in her hand, and looking -seriously upon 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 travailes and miseries of this World, have -now no more to meddle with thee, and thy very heaviest enemy, hath bestowed -such a grave on thee, as thy greatnesse in vertue worthily deserveth; -now nothing else is wanting, wherewith to beautifie thy Funerall, -but onely her sighes & teares, that was so deare unto thee in thy life time. -And because thou mightest the more freely enjoy 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 resolved, to -die with drie eyes, and not shedding one teare, dreadlesse of their utmost -malice towards me.</p> - -<p>And when I have given thee the due oblation of my teares, my soule, -which sometime thou hast kept most carefully, shall come to make a -sweete conjunction with thine: for in what company else can I travaile -more contentedly, and to those unfrequented silent shades, but onely in -thine? As yet I am sure it is present here, in this Cup sent me by my Father, -as having a provident 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.</p> - -<p>Having thus finished her complaint, even as if her head had been converted -into a well-spring of water, so did teares abundantly flow from her -faire eyes, kissing the heart of <i>Guiscardo</i> 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 moved to compassionate teares, -they often demanded (albeit in vaine) the occasion of her sad complaining, -comforting her to their utmost power. When shee was not able -to weepe any longer, wiping her eyes, and lifting up 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 uneffected; -but onely breathing my last, to let my ghost accompany thine.</p> - -<p>Then calling for the glasse of water, which shee had readily prepared -the day before, and powring it upon the heart lying in the Cup, couragiously -advancing it to her mouth, shee dranke it up every drop; which being -done, shee lay downe upon her bed, holding her Lovers 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 upon her bed; beholding -her in such passionate pangs, with teares streaming downe his reverend -beard, he used many kinde words to comfort her, when boldly thus shee -spake unto him. Father (quoth she) well may you spare these teares, because -they are unfitting for you, and not any way desired by me; who but -your selfe, hath seene any man to mourne for his owne wilfull offence. -Neverthelesse, if but the least jot of that love doe yet abide in you, whereof -you have made such liberall profession to me; let me obtaine this my -very last request, to wit, that seeing I might not privately enjoy the benefit -of <i>Guiscardoes</i> love, and while he lived; let yet (in death) one publike -grave containe both our bodies, that death may affoord us, what you so -cruelly in life denied us.</p> - -<p>Extremity of griefe and sorrow, with-held his tongue from returning -any answer, and shee perceiving her end approaching, held the heart still -closed to her owne bare brest, saying; Here Fortune, receive two true -hearts latest oblation, for, in this manner are we comming to thee. So -closing her eyes, all sense forsooke her, life leaving her body breathlesse. -Thus ended the haplesse love of <i>Guiscardo</i>, and <i>Ghismonda</i>, for whose sad -disaster, when the King had mourned sufficiently, and repented fruitlessly; -he caused both their bodies to be honourably embalmed, and buried -in a most royall Monument, not without generall sorrow of the subjects -of <i>Salerne</i>.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Fryar_Albert_made_a_young_Venetian_Gentlewoman_beleeve_that_God_Cupid" id="Fryar_Albert_made_a_young_Venetian_Gentlewoman_beleeve_that_God_Cupid"><i>Fryar</i> Albert <i>made a young Venetian Gentlewoman beleeve, that God</i> Cupid -<i>was falne in love with her, and he resorted oftentimes unto 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 savage man, he was brought upon the Rialto of Saint</i> Marke, <i>and being -there publikely knowne by the Brethren of his Order; he was committed to -Prison.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The second Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Reprehending the lewd lives of dissembling hypocrites; and checking the arrogant -pride of vaine-headed women.</i></h4> - -<p>The Novell recounted by Madam <i>Fiammetta</i>, 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 have commended -the kindnesse of fortune, if in the whole course of my life, I had tasted the -least moity of that delight, which <i>Guiscardo</i> received by conversing with -faire <i>Ghismonda</i>. Nor neede any of you to wonder thereat, or how it can -be otherwise, because hourely I feele a thousand dying torments, without -enjoying any hope of ease or pleasure: but referring my fortunes to their -owne poore condition, it is my will, that Madam <i>Pampinea</i> proceed next -in the argument of successelesse love, according as Madam <i>Fiammetta</i> -hath already begun, to let fall more dew-drops on the fire of mine afflictions. -Madam <i>Pampinea</i> perceiving what a taske was imposed on her, knew -well (by her owne disposition) the inclination of the company, whereof -shee was more respective, 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.</p> - -<p>It hath been continually used as a common Proverbe; that a bad man, -taken and reputed to be honest and good, may commit many evils, yet -neither credited, or suspected: which proverbe giveth mee very ample -matter to speake of, and yet not varying from our intention, concerning -the hypocrisie of some religious persons, who having their garments -long and large, their faces made artificially pale, their language meeke -and humble, to get mens goods from them; yet sower, harsh, and stearne -enough, in checking and controuling other mens errors, as also in urging -others to give, and themselves to take, without any other hope or -meanes of salvation. Nor doe they endeavour like other men, to worke -out their soules health with feare and trembling; but, even as if they were -sole owners, Lords, and possessors of Paradice, will appoint to every 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 deceive themselves, but all such as give 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 under their holy habites: and I -would wish, that their lies and deluding should speed with them, as they -did with a <i>Franciscane</i> Friar, none of the younger Novices, but one of -them of greatest reputation, and belonging to one of the best Monasteries -in <i>Venice</i>. Which I am the rather desirous to report, to recreate your -spirits, after your teares for the death of faire <i>Ghismonda</i>.</p> - -<p>Sometime (Honourable Ladies) there lived in the City of <i>Imola</i>, a -man of most lewd and wicked life; named, <i>Bertho de la massa</i>, 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 delivered a matter of sound truth. Wherefore, perceiving -that his lewdnesse allowed him no longer dwelling there; like a desperate -adventurer, he transported himselfe thence to <i>Venice</i>, the receptacle of all -foule sinne and abhomination, intending there to exercise his wonted -bad behaviour, and live as wickedly as ever 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 devotion, becomming much more Catholike then any other -man, taking on him the profession of a <i>Franciscane Cordelier</i>, and calling -himselfe Fryar <i>Albert</i> of <i>Imola</i>.</p> - -<p>In this habite and outward appearance, hee seemed to leade an austere -and sanctimonious life, highly commending penance & abstinence, -never eating flesh, or drinking wine, but when hee was provided 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. Moreover, being -made Priest, when he was celebrating Masse at the Altar, if he saw himselfe -to be observed by any; he would most mournefully reade the passion -of our Saviour, as one whose teares cost him little, whensoever hee -pleased to use them: so that, in a short while, by his preaching and teares, -he fed the humours of the <i>Venetians</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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 -<i>Frances</i> himselfe had hardly any more. It fortuned, that a young Gentlewoman, -being somewhat foolish, wanton and proud minded, named -Madam <i>Lisetta de Caquirino</i>, wife to a wealthy Merchant, who went with -certaine Gallies into <i>Flanders</i>, 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 <i>Venetians</i> are presumptuous, vaine-glorious, -and witted much like to their skittish Gondoloes) she made a very short -rehearsall of her sinnes. At length Fryar <i>Albert</i> demanded of her, whether -shee had any amorous friend or lover? Her patience being exceedingly -provoked, stearne anger appeared in her lookes, which caused her -to returne him this answer. How now Sir <i>Domine</i>? what? have you no -eyes in your head? Can you not distinguish between mine, and these other -common beauties? I could have Lovers 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 have you beheld, any way answerable to -mine, and are more fit for Gods, then mortals.</p> - -<p>Many other idle speeches shee uttered, in proud opinion of her beauty, -whereby Friar <i>Albert</i> presently perceived, 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. Neverthelesse, -to shew himselfe an holy and religious man now, he began to -reprehend her, and told her plainely, that she was vain-glorious, and overcome -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 <i>Albert</i>, being loth -to offend her any further; after confession was fully ended, let her passe -away among the other Gentlewomen, she giving him divers disdainfull -lookes.</p> - -<p>Within some few dayes after, taking one of his trusty brethren in his -company, he went to the House of Madam <i>Lisetta</i>, where requiring to -have some conference alone with her selfe; shee tooke him into a private -Parlour, 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 used to you the other day, when you were with -me at confession: because, the very night ensuing thereon, I was chastised -in such cruell manner, as I was never able to stirre forth of my bed, -untill this very instant morning; whereto the weake witted Gentlewoman -thus replyed. And who I pray you (quoth she) did chastise you so severely? -I will tell you Madam, said Friar <i>Albert</i>, but it is a matter of admirable -secrecie.</p> - -<p>Being alone by my selfe the same night in my Dorter, and in very serious -devotion, according to my usuall 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 Quiver 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 reprove the -celestiall beauty of Madam <i>Lisetta</i>, who (next to my Mother <i>Venus</i>) I -love most dearely. Whereupon I perceived, he was the great commanding -God <i>Cupid</i>, and therefore I craved most humbly pardon of him. I -will pardon thee (quoth he) but upon this condition, that thou goe to -her so soone as conveniently thou canst, and (by lowly humility) prevaile -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.</p> - -<p>Mistresse shallow braine, being swolne big with this wind, like an empty -bladder; conceived no small pride in hearing these words, constantly -crediting them to be true, and therefore thus answered. Did I not tel you -Father <i>Albert</i>, that my beauty was celestiall? But I sweare by my beauty, -notwithstanding your idle passed arrogancy, I am heartily sorry for your -so severe correction; which that it may no more be inflicted on you, I doe -freely pardon you; yet with this <i>proviso</i>, that you tell me, what the God -else saide unto you; whereto Fryar <i>Albert</i> thus replyed. Madam, seeing -you have so graciously vouchsafed to pardon me, I will thankfully tell -you all: but you must be very carefull and respective, that whatsoever I -shall reveale unto you, must so closely be concealed, as no living creature -in the World may know it; for you are the onely happy Lady now -living, and that happinesse relieth on your silence and secrecie: with solemne -vowes and protestations shee sealed up her many promises, and -then the Fryar thus proceeded.</p> - -<p>Madam, the further charge imposed on me by God <i>Cupid</i>, 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 conversing with you. But -in regard he is a God, and meerely a spirit in forme, whereby neither you -or any else have 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, giving -me charge also to know of you, when you shall please to have him -come, and in whose similitude you would have him to come, whereof he -will not faile; in which respect, you may justly thinke your selfe to be the -onely happy woman living, and farre beyond all other in your good -fortune.</p> - -<p>Mistris want-wit presently answered, shee was well contented, that -God <i>Cupid</i> should love her, and she would returne the like love againe to -him; protesting withall, that wheresoever shee should see his majesticall -picture, she would set a hallowed burning Taper before it. Moreover, -at all times he should be most welcome to her, whensoever hee would -vouchsafe to visite her; for, he should alwayes finde her alone in her private -Chamber: on this condition, that his olde Love <i>Psyches</i>, and all other -beauties else whatsoever, 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 offensive to her.</p> - -<p>Madam (quoth Friar <i>Albert</i>) most wisely have you answered, & leave -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 prejudice 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 give him -entertainment, without any taxation of the world, or ill apprehension of -the most curious inquisition. Beside, a greater happinesse can never 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 joyes of Lovers -Paradise, feeling the fruition of their felicities; which are such, as -no mortality can be capeable of, no, not so much as in imagination.</p> - -<p>The wise Gentlewoman replied, that she was well contented, in regard -of the severe punishment inflicted on him by God <i>Cupid</i>, for the reproachfull -speeches he had given her; to allow him so poore a kinde of -consolation, as he had requested her to grant him. Whereuppon Fryar -<i>Albert</i> saide: Be ready then Madam to give him welcome to morrow in -the evening, 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 use of his wings, he then would flye in at your window, and -then you could not be able to see him.</p> - -<p>Upon this conclusion, <i>Albert</i> departed, leaving <i>Lisetta</i> in no meane -pride of imagination, that God <i>Cupid</i> 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 <i>Albert</i>. 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 -over with Starres, and spangles of Gold, a Bow and Quiver of Arrowes, -with wings also fastened to his backe behinde him, and all cunningly -covered with his Friars habit, which must be the sole meanes for -his safe passage.</p> - -<p>Having obtained licence of his Superiour, and being accompanyed -with an holy Brother of the Convent, yet ignorant of the businesse by -him intended; he went to the house of a friend of his, which was his usuall -receptacle, whensoever he went about such deeds of darknes. There -did he put on his dissembled habit of God <i>Cupid</i>, with his winges, Bowe, -and Quiver, in formall fashion; and then (clouded over with his Monkes -Cowle) leaves his companion to awaite his returning backe, while he visited -foolish <i>Lisetta</i>, according to her expectation, readily attending for -the Gods arrivall.</p> - -<p><i>Albert</i> 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 majesticke motion of his -body, wings, and bow, as if he had bene God <i>Cupid</i>, indeede converted -into a body much bigger of stature, then Painters commonly do describe -him, her wisedome was so overcome with feare and admiration, that she -fell on her knees before him, expressing all humble reverence unto him. -And he spreading his wings over 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 love and affection towards her. So delicately -was he perfumed with odorifferous favours, and so compleate of person -in his spangled garments, that she could do nothing else, but wonder -at his rare behaviour, reputing her felicity beyond all Womens in the -world, and utterly impossible to bee equalled, such was the pride of her -presuming. For he told her divers tales and fables, of his awefull power -among the other Gods, and stolne pleasures of his upon the earth; yet -gracing her praises above all his other Loves, 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, farre to exceed any mortall comparison.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Albert-Cupid</i>, or <i>Cupid-Albert</i>, which of them you best please -to terme him, closing his spangled winges together againe behinde his -backe, fastening also on his Bow and Quiver of Arrowes, over-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 devout 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.</p> - -<p>On the morrow following, Madam <i>Lisetta</i> immediately after dinner, -being attended by her Chamber-maid, went to see Friar <i>Albert</i>, finding -him in his wonted forme and fashion, and telling him what had hapned -betweene her and God <i>Cupid</i>, with all the other lies and tales which hee -had told her. Truly Madam (answered <i>Albert</i>) what your successe with -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 Elves and Fairies, into the floury fields about <i>Elisium</i>, where -Lovers departed out of this life, walk 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 joy -and solace, that, how long I continued there, or by what meanes I was -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 use thereof to your service. Well Friar <i>Albert</i> (quoth shee) you -may see what an happinesse hath befalne you, by so grosse an opinion of -my perfections, and what a felicity you enjoy, and still are like to do, by -my pardoning your error, and granting the Gods accesse to me in your -shape: which as I envy not, so I wish you heereafter to be wiser, in taking -upon you to judge of beautie. Much other idle folly proceeded from hir, -which still he soothed to her contentment, and (as occasion served) many -meetings they had in the former manner.</p> - -<p>It fortuned within a few dayes after, that Madam <i>Lisetta</i> 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, behaviour, -amorous suters and servants, and generall opinion conceived -of their worth and merit; wherein <i>Lisetta</i> was over-much conceyted of -her selfe, not admitting any other to be her equall. Among other speeches, -favouring of an unseasoned 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 deserve to bee preferred -before any other. As women are ambitious in their owne opinions, so -commonly are they covetous of one anothers secrets, especially in matter -of emulation, whereupon the Gossip thus replyed. Beleeve 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, -priviledges, how great and singular soever they be, without they are knowen -to others, beside such as do particularly enjoy them; they carrie no -more account, then things of ordinary estimation. Whereas on the contrary, -when any Lady or Gentlewoman hath some eminent and peculiar -favour, which few or none other can reach unto, and it is made famous -by generall notion: then do all women else admire and honour her, as the -glory of their kinde, and a miracle of Nature.</p> - -<p>I perceive Gossip said <i>Lisetta</i> whereat you ayme, & such is my love to you, -as you should not lose your longing in this case, were I but constantly secured -of your secrecy, which as hitherto I have 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, never to reveale it to any living body, I will disclose to you almost -a miracle. The vertuous oath being past, with many other solemne -protestations beside, <i>Lisetta</i> then proceeded in this manner.</p> - -<p>I know Gossip, that it is a matter of common & ordinary custome, for -Ladies and Gentlewomen to be graced with favourites, men of fraile & -mortall conditions, whose natures are as subject to inconstancy, as their -very best endeavours dedicated to folly, as I could name no mean number -of our Ladies heere in <i>Venice</i>. But when Soveraigne deities shal feele the -impression of our humane desires, and behold subjects of such prevailing -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 <i>Lisetta</i>, -of whose perfections, great <i>Cupid</i> the awefull commanding God of Love -himselfe, conceived such an extraordinary liking: as he hath abandoned -his seate of supreme Majesty, and appeared to me in the shape of a mortall -man, with lively expression of his amorous passions, and what extremities -of anguish he hath endured, onely for my love. May this be possible? -replyed the Gossip. Can the Gods be toucht with the apprehension -of our fraile passions? True it is Gossip, answered <i>Lisetta</i>, and so certainly -true, that his sacred kisses, sweet embraces, and most pleasing speeches, -with proffer of his continuall devotion towards me, hath given 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.</p> - -<p>The Gossip inwardly smiling at her idle speeches, which (nevertheles) -she avouched with very vehement asseverations; fell instantly sicke of -womens naturall disease, thinking every 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, whom -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 <i>Venice</i> was fully possessed with it.</p> - -<p>Among the rest, the brethren to this foolish woman, heard this admirable -newes concerning their Sister; and they discreetly concealing it to -themselves, 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 over-publikely discovered, purposed to check and -reprove <i>Lisetta</i> for her indiscretion. And being habited according to his -former manner, his Friarly Cowle covering al his former bravery, he left -his companion where he used to stay, and closely walked along unto 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 uncased himselfe, and appeared like God <i>Cupid</i>, with his spangled -wings displayed: they rushed into the Chamber, and he having no other -refuge, opened a large Casement, standing directly over the great gulfe -or River, 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.</p> - -<p>Recovering the further side of the River, he espied a light, & the doore -of an house open, wherein dwelt a poore man, whom he earnestly intreated, -to save 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 moved to compassionate -his distressed estate, laid him in his owne bed, ministring such other comforts -to him, as the time and his poverty did permit; and day drawing on, -he went about his businesse, advising him to take his rest, and it should -not be long till he returned. So, locking the doore, and leaving the counterfet -God in bed, away goes the poore man to his daily labour. The Brethren -to <i>Lisetta</i>, perceiving God <i>Cupid</i> to bee fled and gone, and shee in -melancholly sadnesse sitting by them: they tooke up the Reliques he had -left behind him, I meane the Friars hood and Cowle, which shewing to -their sister, and sharply reproving her unwomanly behaviour: they lefte -her in no meane discomfort, returning home to their owne houses, with -their conquered spoiles of the forlorne Friar.</p> - -<p>During the time of these occurrences, broad day speeding on, & the -poore man returning homeward by the <i>Rialto</i>, to visit his guest so lefte in -bed: he beheld divers crouds of people, and a generall rumor noysed among -them, that God <i>Cupid</i> had beene that night with Madame <i>Lisetta</i>, -where being over-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 give him fifty ducates, if hee would -not betray him to <i>Lisettaes</i> brethren.</p> - -<p>Upon the acceptation of this offer, the money being sent for, and paied -downe; there wanted nothing now, but some apt and convenient -meanes, whereby <i>Albert</i> might safely be conveyed 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 advise you. We observe this day as a merry Festivall, & -it is lawfull for any one, to disguise a man in the skin of a Beare, or in the -shape of a savage man, or any other forme of better device. Which being -so done, he is brought upon S. <i>Marks</i> market place, where being hunted -a while with dogs, upon 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 unknown; -for it is without all question to the contrary, that the Gentlewomans brethren, -knowing your concealment in some one place or other, will set such -spies and watches for you throughout the City, as you must needs be taken -by them.</p> - -<p>Now, although it seemed a most severe imposition, for <i>Albert</i> to passe -in any of these disguises: yet his exceeding feare of <i>Lisettaes</i> brethren and -friends, made him gladly yeelde, and to undergo what shape the poore -man pleased, which thus he ordered. Annointing his naked body with -Hony, he then covered it over with downy small Feathers, and fastning -a chaine about his necke, and a strange ugly vizard on his face; hee gave -him a great staffe in the one hand, and two huge Mastive dogs chained -together in the other, which he had borrowed in the Butchery. Afterward, -he sent a man to the <i>Rialto</i>, who there proclaimed by the sound of -Trumpet: That all such as desired to see God <i>Cupid</i>, which the last night -had descended downe from the skies, and fell (by ill hap) into the <i>Venetian</i> -gulfe, let them repaire to the publike Market place of S. <i>Marke</i>, and -there he would appeare in his owne likenesse.</p> - -<p>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, -every 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, whereto he chained his savage -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 thereby -unspeakable anguish. When the poore man saw, that there needed -no more concourse of people; pretending, as if he purposed to let loose -his Salvage man; he tooke the maske or vizard from <i>Alberts</i> face, and -then he spake aloud in this manner.</p> - -<p>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 Love called <i>Cupid</i>, whom Poets feigned long since to -be a little boy, but now growne to manly stature. You see in what manner -he hath left his high dwelling, onely for the comfort of our <i>Venetian</i> -beauties: but belike, the night-fogs over-flagging his wings, he fell into -our gulfe, and comes now to present his service to you. No sooner had -he taken off his vizard, but every one knew him to be Friar <i>Albert</i>; 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.</p> - -<p>So long continued the offended people in their fury, that newes thereof -was carried to the Convent, 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 molestation and trouble -of the people; where imprisoning him in their house, severitie 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 evill actions dayly -committed, yet escaping uncredited: there will come a time at length, -for just discovering of all, that the good may shine in their true luster of -glory, and the bad sinke in their owne deserved shame.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Three_yong_Gentlemen_affecting_three_Sisters_fledde_with_them_into_Candie" id="Three_yong_Gentlemen_affecting_three_Sisters_fledde_with_them_into_Candie"><i>Three yong Gentlemen affecting three Sisters, fledde with them into</i> Candie. -<i>The eldest of them (through jealousie) becommeth the death of her Lover: -The second, by consenting to the Duke of</i> Candies <i>request, is the meanes of -saving 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 prevaile with their keepers, -escaping from thence to</i> Rhodes, <i>where they died in great poverty.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The third Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Heerein is declared, how dangerous the occasion is, ensuing by anger and despight, -in such as entirely love, especially, being injuried and offended by them -that they love.</i></h4> - - -<p>When the King perceived, that Madame <i>Pampinea</i> had ended her -discourse; he sat sadly a prety while, without uttering one word, -but afterward spake thus. Little goodnesse appeared in the beginning of -this Novell, because it ministred occasion of mirth; yet the ending proved -better, and I could wish, that worse inflictions had falne on the venerious -Friar. Then turning towards Madam <i>Lauretta</i>, he said; Lady, do -you tell us a better tale, if possible it may be. She smiling, thus answered -the King: Sir, you are over-cruelly bent against poore Lovers, in desiring, -that their amourous processions should have harsh and sinister -concludings. Neverthelesse, in obedience to your severe command, among -three persons amourously perplexed, I will relate an unhappy ending; -whereas all may be saide to speede as unfortunately, being equally -alike, in enjoying the issue of their desires, and thus I purpose for to proceede.</p> - -<p>Every vice (choise Ladies) as very well you know, redoundeth to the -great disgrace and prejudice, 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 us with full carrere, and draweth us into -unavoidable perils and dangers; in mine opinion, seemeth to be that of -choller or anger, which is nothing else, but a sudden and inconsiderate -moving, provoked by some received injury, which having excluded all -respect of reason, and dimde (with darke vapours) the bright discerning -sight of the understanding, enflameth the minde with most violent furie. -And albeit this inconvenience happeneth most to men, and more to -some few, then others; yet notwithstanding, it hath been noted, that women -have 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 have the lesser consideration, and therefore not to -be wondred at. For if we will advisedly observe, we shall plainely perceive, -that fire (even 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 us 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 themselves pleasing -and full of content, to those men with whom we are to live; 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 Novel, -how the loves of three young Gentlemen, and of as many Gentlewomen, -came to fatall and unfortunate successe, by the tempestuous anger of -one among them, according as I have formerly related unto you.</p> - -<p><i>Marseilles</i> (as you are not now to learne) is in <i>Provence</i>, 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 <i>Narnaldo -Civada</i>, 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 <i>Narnaldo</i>, who was then abroade in <i>Spaine</i> -with his Merchandises. The eldest of these Sisters was named <i>Ninetta</i>, -the second <i>Magdalena</i>, and the third <i>Bertella</i>. A Gentleman (albeit but -poore in fortunes) and called <i>Restagnone</i>, was so extraordinarily enamoured -of <i>Ninetta</i>, as no man possibly could be more, and shee likewise as -earnest in affection towards him; yet both carrying their loves proceeding -with such secresie, as long time they enjoyed their hearts sweete -contentment, yet undiscovered by any eye.</p> - -<p>It came to passe, that two other young Gallants, the one named <i>Folco</i>, -and the other <i>Hugnetto</i>, (who had attained to incredible wealth, by the -decease of their Father) were also as farre in love, the one with <i>Magdalena</i>, -and the other with <i>Bertella</i>. When <i>Restagnone</i> had intelligence thereof, -by the meanes of his faire friend <i>Ninetta</i>; he purposed to releeve his poverty, -by friendly furthering both their love, and his owne: and growing -into familiarity with them, one while he would walke abroade with <i>Folco</i>, -and then againe with <i>Hugnetto</i>, 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 invited the two -Gentlemen home to his House, hee fell into this like conference with -them.</p> - -<p>Kind friends (quoth he) the honest familiarity which hath past betweene -us, may render you some certaine assurance, of the constant love -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 travelled, -and now may soone be delivered of, if it may passe with your liking and -approbation. Let me then tell you, that except your speeches savour of -untruth, and your actions carry a double understanding, in common behaviour -both by night and day, you appeare to pine and consume away, -in the cordiall love you beare to two of the Sisters, as I suffer the same afflictions -for the third, with reciprocall requitall of their dearest affection -to us. Now, to qualifie the heate of our tormenting flames, if you will -condescend to such a course as I shall advise you, the remedy will yeeld -them equall ease to ours, and we may safely enjoy the benefit of contentment. -As wealth aboundeth with you both, so doth want most extremely -tyrannize over 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 us, where to live at hearts ease upon your -possessions; I durst engage my credite, that all the Sisters, (not meanly -stored with their Fathers treasure) shall beare us company to what place -soever we please. There each man freely enjoying his owne dearest love, -we may live like three brethren, without any hinderance to our mutuall -contentment; it remaineth now in you Gentlemen, to accept this comfortable -offer, or to refuse it.</p> - -<p>The two Brothers, whose passions exceeded their best meanes for support, -perceiving some hope how to enjoy their loves; 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 whatsoever, -they would joyne with him in this determination, and he should partake -with them in their wealthiest fortunes. After <i>Restagnone</i> had heard -their answer, within some few dayes following, he went to conferre with -<i>Ninetta</i>, which was no easie matter for him to compasse. Neverthelesse, -opportunity proved so favourable to him, that meeting with her at a private -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 have 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 advise, 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 every thing ready, to depart from hence so soone, as with best -convenient meanes we may be enabled.</p> - -<p><i>Restagnone</i> being returned to <i>Folco</i> and <i>Hugnetto</i>, who thought every -houre a yeere, to heare what would succeed upon 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. Having 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, under colour of venting Merchandises abroade; they bought a nimble -Pinnace, fortified with good strength and preparation, and waited -but for a convenient wind. On the other side, <i>Ninetta</i>, who was sufficiently -acquainted with the forwardnesse of her Sisters desires and her -owne; had so substantially prevailed 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 Jewels, wherewith escaping secretly -out of the House; they came to the place where their Lovers 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 arrived at <i>Geneway</i>.</p> - -<p>There being out of peril or pursuite, they all knit the knot of holy wedlocke, -and then freely enjoyed 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 -<i>Candie</i>, not meeting with any impeachment by the way. Determining -there to spend their dayes, first they provided themselves 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, inviting their Neighbours, and they them againe in loving -manner; so that no Lovers could wish to live in more ample contentment.</p> - -<p>Passing on their time in this height of felicity, and not crossed by any -sinister accidents, it came to passe (as often wee may observe in the like -occasions, that although delights doe most especially please us, yet they -breed surfet, when they swell too over-great in abundance) that <i>Restagnone</i>, -who most deerely affected his faire <i>Ninetta</i>, 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 invited -to a Banket, hee saw there a beautifull Gentle-woman of that Countrey, -whose perfections pleasing him beyond all comparison: hee laboured (by -painfull pursuite) to win his purpose; and meeting with her in divers private -places, grew prodigall in his expences upon her. This could not be -so closely carried, but beeing seene and observed by <i>Ninetta</i>, she became -possessed with such extreame jelousie, that hee could not doe any thing -whatsoever, but immediately he had knowledge of it: which fire, growing -to a flame in her, her patience became extreamely provoked, urging -rough and rude speeches from her to him, and daily tormenting him beyond -power of sufferance.</p> - -<p>As the enjoying of anything in too much plenty, makes it appeare -irkesome and loathing to us, and the deniall of our desires, do more and -more whet on the appetite: even so did the angry spleene of <i>Ninetta</i> proceede -on in violence, against this newe commenced love of <i>Restagnone</i>. -For in succession of time, whether hee enjoyed the embracements of -his new Mistresse, or no: yet <i>Ninetta</i> (by sinister reports, but much more -through her owne jealous imaginations) held it for infallible, and to be -most certaine. Heereupon, she fell into an extreame melancholly, which -melancholly begat implacable fury, and (consequently) such contemptible -disdaine: as converted her former kindly love to <i>Restagnone</i>, into -most cruell and bloudie hatred; yea, and so strangely was reason or respect -confounded in her, as no revenge else but speedy death, might -satisfie the wrongs shee imagined to receive by <i>Restagnone</i> and his Minion.</p> - -<p>Upon enquiry, by what meanes shee might best compasse her bloody -intention, she grew acquainted with a <i>Græcian</i> woman, and wonderfully -expert in the compounding of poysons, whom shee so perswaded, by -gifts and bounteous promises, that at the length shee prevailed with her. -A deadly water was distilled by her, which (without any other counsell -to the contrary) on a day when <i>Restagnone</i> had his blood some-what -over-heated, and little dreamed on any such Treason conspired against -him by his Wife, she caused him to drinke a great draught thereof, under -pretence, that it was a most soveraigne and cordiall water: but such -was the powerfull operation thereof, that the very next morning, <i>Restagnone</i> -was found to be dead in his bed. When his death was understood -by <i>Folco, Hugnetto</i> and their Wives, 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.</p> - -<p>But as Fortune is infinite in her fagaries, never acting disaster so closely, -but as cunningly discovereth it againe: so it came to passe, that within -a few dayes following, the <i>Græcian</i> woman, that had delivered the poyson -to <i>Ninetta</i>, for such another deede of damnation, was apprehended -even in the action. And being put upon the tortures, among many other -horrid villanies by her committed, she confessed the empoysoning of <i>Restagnone</i>, -and every particle thereto appertaining. Whereupon, the Duke -of <i>Candie</i>, without any noyse or publication, setting a strong guard (in -the night time) about the house of <i>Folco</i>, where <i>Ninetta</i> then was lodged; -there sodainly they seized on her, & upon examination, in maintainance -of her desperate revenge; voluntarily confessed the fact, and what else -concerned the occasion of his death, by the wrongs which hee had offered -her.</p> - -<p><i>Folco</i> and <i>Hugnetto</i> understanding secretly, both from the Duke, & other -intimate friends, what was the reason of <i>Ninettaes</i> apprehension, -which was not a little displeasing to them, laboured by all their best pains -and endeavour, to worke such meanes with the Duke, that her life might -not perish by fire, although she had most justly deserved it; but all their -attempts prooved to no effect, because the Duke had concluded to execute -justice.</p> - -<p>Heere you are to observe, that <i>Magdalena</i> (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 love and kindnesse, whereto -by no meanes she would listen or give 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 private told her, that if she was -so desirous of <i>Ninettaes</i> life: it lay in her power to obtaine it, by granting -him the fruition of her love. She apparantly perceiving, that <i>Ninetta</i> was -not likely to live, 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 having an excellent -ingenious wit, quicke, and apprehensive in perillous occasions, shee -intended now to make a trial of over-reaching the lascivious Duke in his -wanton purpose, and yet to be assured of her Sisters life, without any blemish -to her reputation.</p> - -<p>Soliciting him still as she was wont to doe, this promise passed from -her to him, that when <i>Ninetta</i> was delivered out of prison, and in safety -at home in her house: hee should resort thither in some queint disguise, -and enjoy his long expected desire; but untill then she would not yeeld. -So violent was the Duke in the prosecution of his purpose, that under colour -of altering the manner of <i>Ninettaes</i> death, not suffering her to bee -consumed by fire, but to be drowned, according to a custome observed -there long time, and at the importunity of her Sister <i>Magdalena</i>, in the -still silence of the night, <i>Ninetta</i> was conveyed into a sacke, and sent in -that manner to the House of <i>Folco</i>, the Duke following soone after, to -challenge her promise.</p> - -<p><i>Magdalena</i>, having acquainted her Husband with her vertuous intention, -for preserving her Sisters life, and disappointing the Duke in his -wicked desire; was as contrary to her true meaning in this case, as <i>Ninetta</i> -had formerly beene adverse to <i>Restagnone</i>, onely being over-ruled -likewise by jealousie, and perswaded in his rash opinion, that the Duke -had already dishonoured <i>Magdalena</i>, otherwise, he would not have delivered -<i>Ninetta</i> out of prison. Mad fury gave further fire to this unmanly -perswasion, and nothing will now quench this violent flame, but the life -of poore <i>Magdalena</i>, suddenly sacrificed in the rescue of her Sisters, such -a divell is anger, when the understandings bright eye is thereby abused. -No credit might be given to her womanly protestations, nor any thing -seeme to alter his bloody purpose; but, having slaine <i>Magdalena</i> with his -Poniard, (notwithstanding her teares and humble entreaties) hee ran -in haste to <i>Ninettaes</i> Chamber, shee not dreaming on any such desperate -accident, and to her he used these dissembling speeches.</p> - -<p>Sister (quoth he) my wife hath advised, that I should speedily convey -you hence, as fearing the renewing of the Dukes fury, and your falling againe -into the hands of Justice: I have a Barke readily prepared for you, -and your life being secured, it is all that she and I doe most desire. <i>Ninetta</i> -being fearefull, and no way distrusting what he had saide; in thankfull allowance -of her Sisters care, and curteous tender of his so ready service; -departed thence presently with him, not taking any farewell of her other -Sister and her Husband. To the Sea-shore they came, very weakely provided -of monies to defray their charges, and getting aboard the Barke, -directed their course themselves knew not whether.</p> - -<p>The amourous Duke in his disguise, having long daunced attendance -at <i>Folcoes</i> doore, and no admittance of his entrance; angerly returned -backe to his Court, protesting severe revenge on <i>Magdalena</i>, if she gave -him not the better satisfaction, to cleare her from thus basely abusing -him. On the morrow morning, when <i>Magdalena</i> was found murthered -in her Chamber, and tidings thereof carried to the Duke; present search -was made for the bloody offendor, but <i>Folco</i> being fled and gone with -<i>Ninetta</i>; some there were, who bearing deadly hatred to <i>Hugnetto</i>, incensed -the Duke against him and his wife, as supposing them to be guilty of -<i>Magdalenaes</i> death. He being thereto very easily perswaded, in regard -of his immoderate love to the slaine Gentlewoman; went himselfe in person -(attended on by his Guard) to <i>Hugnettoes</i> House, where both he and -his wife were seized as prisoners.</p> - -<p>These newes were very strange to them, and their imprisonment as -unwelcome; and although they were truly innocent, either in knowledge -of the horrid fact, or the departure of <i>Folco</i> with <i>Ninetta</i>: yet being unable -to endure the tortures extremity, they made themselves culpable by -confession, and that they had hand with <i>Folco</i> in the murder of <i>Magdalena</i>. -Upon 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 serve when any urgent extremitie should happen -to them; they corrupted their keepers, and before any intelligence could -be had of their flight, they escaped by Sea to <i>Rhodes</i>, where they lived afterward -in great distresse and misery. The just vengeance of Heaven followed -after <i>Folco</i> and <i>Ninetta</i>, 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 driven backe on the Coast of <i>Candie</i> againe, -where being apprehended, and brought to the City before the -Duke, they confessed their severall notorious offences, and ended their -loathed lives in one fire together.</p> - -<p>Thus the idle and loose love of <i>Restagnone</i>, with the franticke rage and -jealousie of <i>Ninetta</i> and <i>Folco</i>, overturned all their long continued happinesse, -and threw a disastrous ending on them all.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Gerbino_contrary_to_the_former_plighted_faith_of_his_Grand-father_King_Gulielmo" id="Gerbino_contrary_to_the_former_plighted_faith_of_his_Grand-father_King_Gulielmo">Gerbino, <i>contrary to the former plighted faith of his Grand-father, King</i> Gulielmo, -<i>fought with a Ship at Sea, belonging to the King of</i> Thunis, <i>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.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The fourth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>In commendation of Justice betweene Princes; and declaring withal, that neither -feare, dangers, nor death it selfe; can any way daunt a true and loyall -Lover.</i></h4> - - -<p>Madam <i>Lauretta</i> having concluded her Novel, and the company complaining -on Lovers misfortunes, some blaming the angry and jealous -fury of <i>Ninetta</i>, and every one delivering their severall opinions; -the King, as awaking out of a passionate perplexity, exalted his lookes, -giving a signe to Madam <i>Elisa</i>, that shee should follow next in order, -whereto she obeying, began in this manner. I have heard (Gracious Ladies, -quoth she) of many people, who are verily perswaded, that Loves -arrowes, never wound any body, but onely by the eyes lookes and gazes, -mocking and scorning such as maintaine that men may fall in love by hearing -onely. Wherein (beleeve me) they are greatly deceived, as will -appeare by a Novell which I must now relate unto you, and wherein you -shall plainely perceive, that not onely fame or report is as prevailing as -sight; but also hath conducted divers, to a wretched and miserable ending -of their lives.</p> - -<p><i>Gulielmo</i> the second, King of <i>Sicilie</i>, according as the <i>Sicilian</i> Chronicles -record, had two children, the one a sonne, named <i>Don Rogero</i>, and -the other a daughter, called Madam <i>Constance</i>. The saide <i>Rogero</i> died before -his Father, leaving a sonne behind him, named <i>Gerbino</i>, who, with -much care and cost, was brought up by his Grand-father, proving 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 <i>Sicilie</i> onely, but being published very prodigally, in many parts -of the world beside, flourished with no meane commendations throughout -all <i>Barbarie</i>, which in those dayes was tributary to the King of <i>Sicilie</i>. -Among other persons, deserving most to be respected, the renowned -vertues, and affability of this gallant Prince <i>Gerbino</i>, was understood by -the beautious Daughter to the King of <i>Thunis</i>, 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 ever Nature framed in her very choycest -pride of art.</p> - -<p>Of famous, vertuous, and worthy men, it was continually her cheefest -delight to heare, and the admired actions of valiant <i>Gerbino</i>, reported -to her by many singular discoursers, such as could best describe him, with -language answerable to his due deservings, won such honourable entertainment -in her understanding soule, that they were most affectionately -pleasing to her, and in capitulating (over and over 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 advancement.</p> - -<p>On the other side, the fame of her incomparable beauty, with addition -of her other infinite singularities beside; as the World had given eare -to in numberlesse places, so <i>Sicilie</i> 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 <i>Gerbino</i>; -but was embraced with such a reall apprehension, and the entire -probation of a true understanding: that he was no lesse enflamed with -noble affection towards her, then she expressed the like in vertuous opinion -of him. Wherefore, awaiting such convenient opportunity, when -he might entreate license of his Grandfather, for his owne going to <i>Thunis</i>, -under colour of some honourable occasion, for the earnest desire hee -had to see her: he gave charge to some of his especiall friends (whose affaires -required their presence in those parts) to let the Princesse understand, -in such secret manner as best they could devise, what noble affection -he bare unto her, devoting himselfe onely to her service.</p> - -<p>One of his chosen friends thus put in trust, being a Jeweller, a man of -singular discretion, and often resorting to Ladies for sight of his Jewelles, -winning like admittance to the Princesse: related at large unto her, the -honourable affection of <i>Gerbino</i>, with full tender of his person to her service, -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 selfsame -affection towards him; as a testimony thereof, one of the very choisest -Jewels which she bought of him, shee sent by him to the Prince <i>Gerbino</i>, -it being received by him with such joy and contentment, as nothing -in the world could be more pleasing to him. So that afterward, by the trusty -carriage of this Jeweller, many Letters and Love-tokens passed betweene -them, each being as highly pleased with this poore, yet happy -kinde of entercourse, as if they had seene & conversed with one another.</p> - -<p>Matters proceeding on in this manner, and continuing longer then -their love-sicke passions easily could permit, yet neither being able to find -out any other meanes of helpe; it fortuned, that the King of <i>Thunis</i> promised -his daughter in marriage to the King of <i>Granada</i>, whereat she grew -exceeding sorrowfull, perceyving, that not onely she should be sent further -off, by a large distance of way from her friend, but also bee deprived -utterly, of all hope ever to enjoy him. And if she could have devised any -meanes, either by secret flight from her Father, or any way els to further -her intention, she would have adventured it for the Princes sake. <i>Gerbino</i> -in like manner hearing of this purposed mariage, lived in a hell 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 private stealing -her away from her Fathers Court before: with these and infinite other -thoughts, was he incessantly afflicted, both day and night.</p> - -<p>By some unhappy accident or other, the King of <i>Thunis</i> heard of this -their secret love, as also of <i>Gerbinoes</i> 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 convey his daughter thence to her marriage, and fearing to be prevented -by <i>Gerbino</i>: he sent to the King of <i>Sicily</i>, to let him understand his -determination, craving safe conduct from him, without impeachment of -<i>Gerbino</i>, or any one else, untill such time as his intent was accomplished. -King <i>Gulielmo</i> being aged, and never acquainted with the affectionat proceedings -of <i>Gerbino</i>, nor any doubtfull reason to urge this securitie from -him, in a case convenient to be granted: yeelded the sooner thereto right -willingly, and as a signale of his honourable meaning, he sent him his royall -Glove, with a full confirmation for his safe conduct.</p> - -<p>No sooner were these Princely assurances received, but a goodly ship -was prepared in the Port of <i>Carthagena</i>, well furnished with all thinges -thereto belonging, for the sending his daughter to the King of <i>Granada</i>, -waiting for nothing else but best favouring windes. The yong Princesse, -who understood and saw all this great preparation; secretly sent a servant -of hers to <i>Palermo</i>, giving him especiall charge, on her behalfe, to salute -the Prince <i>Gerbino</i>, and to tell him withall, that (within few dayes) shee -must be transported to <i>Granada</i>. And now opportunity gave 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 conceyved 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 <i>Thunis</i>.</p> - -<p>The Prince <i>Gerbino</i>, having heard this message from his divine Mistresse, -and knowing also, that the King his Grandfather, had past his safe -conduct to the King of <i>Thunis</i>, for peaceable passage thorough his Seas: -was at his wits end, in this urgent necessitie, what might best bee done. -Notwithstanding, moved by the setled constancie of his plighted Love, -and the speeches delivered to him by the messenger from the Princesse: -to shew himselfe a man endued with courage, he departed thence unto -<i>Messina</i>, where he made readie two speedie gallies, and fitting them with -men of valiant disposition, set away to <i>Sardignia</i>, as making full account, -that the Ship which carried the Princesse, must come along that Coast. -Nor was his expectation therein deceived: for, within few dayes after, -the Ship (not over-swiftly winded) came sailing neere to the place where -they attended for her arrivall; whereof <i>Gerbino</i> had no sooner gotten a -sight, but to animate the resolutes which were in his company, thus he -spake.</p> - -<p>Gentlemen, if you be those men of valour, as heeretofore you have -beene reputed, I am perswaded, that there are some among you, who -either formerly have, or now instantly do feele, the all-commanding power -of Love, without which (as I thinke) there is not any mortall man, -that can have any goodnesse or vertue dwelling in him. Wherefore, if -ever you have bene amorously affected, or presently have any apprehension -thereof, you shall the more easily judge of what I now aime at. True -it is, that I do love, and love hath guided me to be comforted, and manfully -assisted by you, because in yonder Ship, which you see commeth on -so gently under saile (even as if she offered her selfe to be our prize) not -onely is the Jewell which I most esteeme, but also mighty and unvalewable -treasure, to be wonne without any difficult labour, or hazard of a dangerous -fight, you being men of such undauntable courage. In the honour -of which victory, I covet not any part or parcell, but onely a Ladie, for -whose sake I have undertaken these Armes, and freely give you all the rest -contained in the shippe. Let us set on them, Gentlemen, and my dearest -friends; couragiously let us assaile the ship, you see how the wind favours -us, and (questionlesse) in so good an action, Fortune will not faile us.</p> - -<p><i>Gerbino</i> needed not to have spoken so much, in perswading them to -seize so rich a booty; because the men of <i>Messina</i> were naturally addicted -to spoile and rapine: and before the Prince began his Oration, they had -concluded to make the ship their purchase. Wherefore, giving 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 upon the ship. But before the Gallies could -come neere her, they that had the charge and managing of her, perceyving -with what speede they made towards them, and no likely meanes of -escaping from them, resolvedly they stood uppon their best defence, for -now it was no time to be slothfull.</p> - -<p>The Prince being come neere to the Ship, commanded that the Patrones -should come to him, except they would adventure the fight. -When the Sarazines were thereof advertised, and understood 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 <i>Sicily</i>, for their safe passage thorow his Sea, by no -meanes to be molested or assailed. In testimony whereof, they shewed -his Glove, avouching moreover, that neyther by force (or otherwise) -they would yeelde, or deliver him any thing which they had aboorde -their Ship.</p> - -<p><i>Gerbino</i> 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 Glove. Wee have (quoth he) no Faulcon heere -now, to be humbled at the sight of your Glove: and therefore, if you will -not deliver the Lady, prepare your selves for fight, for we must have 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, <i>Gerbino</i> perceyving, that small benefite would redound to -him, if he did not undertake some other kinde of course: he tooke a small -Pinnace, which purposely he brought with him from <i>Sardignia</i>, and setting -it on a flaming fire, conveyd it (by the Gallies help) close to the ship. -The Sarazines much amazed thereat, and evidently perceiving, that eyther -they must yeeld or dy; brought their Kings daughter upon the prow -of the ship, most greevously weeping and wringing her hands. Then calling -<i>Gerbino</i>, 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 give her to thee, according to our bounden duty, and as thy perjury -hath justly deserved.</p> - -<p>This sight was not a little greevous to the Prince <i>Gerbino</i>, who madded -now with this their monstrous cruelty, and not caring what became -of his owne life, having lost her for whom hee onely desired to live: not -dreading their Darts, Arrowes, slinged stones, or what violence els they -could use against him; he leapt aboord their ship, in despight of all that -durst resist him, behaving himself there like a hunger-starved 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 life 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 save, and -suffering the Sea to swallow the rest, <i>Gerbino</i> returned unto his Gallies againe, -nothing proud of this so ill-gotten victory.</p> - -<p>Afterward, having recovered the Princesses dead body out of the Sea, -and enbalmed it with sighes and teares: hee returned backe into <i>Sicilie</i>, -where he caused it to be most honourably buried, in a little Island, named -<i>Ustica</i>, face to face confronting <i>Trapanum</i>. The King of <i>Thunis</i> hearing -these disastrous Newes, sent his Ambassadors (habited in sad mourning) -to the aged King of <i>Sicily</i>, 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 injury, seeing no way whereby to deny -him justice, it being urged so instantly by the Ambassadours: caused -<i>Gerbino</i> to be apprehended, and hee himselfe (in regard that none of his -Lords and Barons would therein assist him, but laboured to divert him -by their earnest importunity) pronounced the sentence of death on the -Prince, and commanded to have him beheaded in his presence; affecting -rather, to dye without an heire, then to be thought a King void of justice. -So these two unfortunate Lovers, never enjoying the very least benefite of -their long wished desires: ended both their lives in violent manner.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="The_three_Brethren_to_Isabella_slew_a_Gentleman_that_secretly_loved_her_His" id="The_three_Brethren_to_Isabella_slew_a_Gentleman_that_secretly_loved_her_His"><i>The three Brethren to</i> Isabella, <i>slew a Gentleman that secretly loved 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 usually -set in; she watered it (a long while) with her teares. Whereof her Brethren -having intelligence; soone after she dyed, with meere conceite of sorrow.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The fift Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is plainly proved, that Love cannot be rooted uppe, by any humane power -or providence; especially in such a soule, where it hath bene really apprehended.</i></h4> - - -<p>The Novell of Madame <i>Eliza</i> being finished, and some-what commended -by the King, in regard of the Tragicall conclusion; <i>Philomena</i> -was enjoyned to proceede next with her discourse. She beeing overcome -with much compassion, for the hard Fortunes of Noble <i>Gerbino</i>, -and his beautifull Princesse, after an extreame 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 <i>Eliza</i> gave you relation: -yet (peradventure) it may proove to be no lesse pitifull. And now I remember -my selfe, <i>Messina</i> so lately spoken of, is the place where this accident -also happened.</p> - -<p>In <i>Messina</i> there dwelt three yong men, Brethren, and Merchants by -their common profession, who becoming very rich by the death of theyr -Father, lived in very good fame and repute. Their Father was of <i>San -Gemignano</i>, and they had a Sister named <i>Isabella</i>, young, beautifull, and -well conditioned; who, upon some occasion, as yet remained unmaried. -A proper youth, being a Gentleman borne in <i>Pisa</i>, and named <i>Lorenzo</i>, -as a trusty factor or servant, had the managing of the Brethrens businesse -and affaires. This <i>Lorenzo</i> being of comely personage, affable, and excellent -in his behaviour, grew so gracious in the eyes of <i>Isabella</i>, that shee -affoorded him many very respective lookes, yea, kindnesses of no common -quality. Which <i>Lorenzo</i> taking notice of, and observing by degrees -from time to time, gave over all other beauties in the Citie, which might -allure any affection from him, and only fixed his heart on her, so that their -love grew to a mutuall embracing, both equally respecting one another, -and entertaining kindnesses, as occasion gave leave.</p> - -<p>Long time continued this amorous league of love, yet not so cunningly -concealed, but at the length, the secret meeting of <i>Lorenzo</i> and <i>Isabella</i>, -to ease their poore soules of Loves oppressions, was discovered by the -eldest of the Brethren, unknowne 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 urgent 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 <i>Lorenzo</i>.</p> - -<p>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 evill acte being (as yet) -committed. And seeming, as if they knew not of their love, had a wary -eye still upon her secret walkes, awaiting for some convenient time, when -without their owne prejudice, or <i>Isabellaes</i> knowledge, they might safely -breake off this their stolne love, which was altogither against their liking. -So, shewing no worse countenance to <i>Lorenzo</i>, then formerly they had -done, but imploying and conversing with him in kinde manner; it fortuned, -that riding (all three) to recreate themselves out of the Cittie, they -tooke <i>Lorenzo</i> in their company, and when they were come to a solitarie -place, such as best suited with their vile purpose: they ran sodainly upon -<i>Lorenzo</i>, slew him, & afterward enterred his body, where hardly it could -be discovered by any one. Then they returned backe to <i>Messina</i>, & gave -it forth (as a credible report) that they had sent him abroad about their -affaires, as formerly they were wont to do: which every one verily beleeved, -because they knew no reason why they should conceite any otherwise.</p> - -<p><i>Isabella</i>, living in expectation of his returne, and perceiving his stay -to her was so offensively 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 <i>Lorenzo</i>? -What urgent affaires have you with him, that makes you so impatient -upon 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, <i>Isabella</i> fell into abundance of teares, where-among -she mingled many sighes and groanes, such as were able to overthrow 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.</p> - -<p>In the silence of darke night, as she lay afflicted in her bed, oftentimes -would she call for <i>Lorenzo</i>, entreating his speedy returning to her: And -then againe, as if he had bene present with her, shee checkt and reproved -him for his so long absence. One night amongst the rest, she being growen -almost hopelesse, of ever seeing him againe, having a long while -wept and greevously lamented; her senses and faculties utterly spent and -tired, that she could not utter any more complaints, she fell into a trance -or sleepe; and dreamed, that the ghost of <i>Lorenzo</i> appeared unto her, in -torne and unbefitting garments, his lookes pale, meager, and staring: and -(as she thought) thus spake to her. My deare love <i>Isabella</i>, thou doest nothing -but torment thy selfe, with calling on me, accusing me for overlong -tarrying from thee: I am come therefore to let thee know, that thou canst -not enjoy 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.</p> - -<p>The yong Damosell awaking, and giving 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. Having -obtained favour of her brethren, to ride a dayes journey 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 love: they rode directly -to the designed place, which being covered with some store of dried -leaves, and more deeply sunke then any other part of the ground thereabout, -they digged not farre, but they found the body of murthered <i>Lorenzo</i>, -as yet very little corrupted or impaired, and then perceived the -truth of her vision.</p> - -<p>Wisedome and government so much prevailed 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 -have 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 have all, yet she would be possessed of a part, & having -brought a keene razor with her, by helpe of the Nurse, shee divided -the head from the body, and wrapped it up in a Napkin, which the nurse -conveyed into her lap, and then laide the body in the ground again. Thus -being undiscovered by any, they departed thence, and arrived at home in -convenient time, where being alone by themselves in the Chamber: she -washed the head over and over with her teares, and bestowed infinite kisses -thereon.</p> - -<p>Not long after, the Nurse having brought her a large earthen potte, -such as wee use to set Basile, Marjerom, Flowers, or other sweet hearbes -in, and shrouding the head in a silken Scarfe, put it into the pot, covering -it with earth, and planting divers rootes of excellent Basile therein, which -she never watered, but either with her teares, Rose water, or water distilled -from the Flowers of Oranges. This pot she used 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, even as if they -had beene uttered to her <i>Lorenzo</i>, and day by day this was her continuall -exercise, to the no meane admiration of her bretheren, and many other -friends that beheld her.</p> - -<p>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 savour. -The neighbours noting this behaviour in her, observing 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 understand the reason of her so violent oppressions; but could -not by any meanes prevaile with her, or win any discovery by her Nurse, -so faithfull was she in secrecie to her. Her brethren also waxed wearie of -this carriage in her; and having very often reproved 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 have it restored againe, avouching that shee could not -live without it.</p> - -<p>Perceiving that she could not have the pot againe, she fell into an extreame -sicknesse, occasioned onely by her ceaselesse weeping: and never -urged she to have any thing, but the restoring of her Basile pot. Her brethren -grew greatly amazed thereat, because shee never called for ought -else beside; and thereupon were very desirous to ransacke the pot to the -very bottome. Having 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 <i>Lorenzoes</i> -head, whereat they became confounded with amazement.</p> - -<p>Fearing least their offence might come to open publication, they buried -it very secretly; and, before any could take notice thereof, they departed -from <i>Messina</i>, and went to dwell in <i>Naples. Isabella</i> crying & calling -still for her pot of Basile, being unable to give over mourning, dyed -within a few dayes after. Thus have you heard the hard fate of poore <i>Lorenzo</i> -and his <i>Isabella</i>. Within no long while after, when this accident -came to be publikely knowne, an excellent ditty was composed thereof, -beginning thus:</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">Cruell and unkinde was the Christian,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That robd me of my Basiles blisse, &c.<br /></span> -</i></div></div> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="A_beautifull_yong_Virgin_named_Andreana_became_enamored_of_a_yong_Gentleman" id="A_beautifull_yong_Virgin_named_Andreana_became_enamored_of_a_yong_Gentleman"><i>A beautifull yong Virgin, named</i> Andreana, <i>became enamored of a yong Gentleman, -called</i> Gabriello. <i>In conference together, she declared a dreame of -hers to him, and he another of his to her; whereupon</i> Gabriello <i>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</i> Gabriello, -<i>to lay him before his owne doore. The Potestate offering violence to -the Virgin, and she resisting him vertuously: it came to the understanding -of her Father, who approved the innocence of his daughter, and compassed -her deliverance. But she afterward, being weary of all worldly felicities, entred -into Religion, and became a Nun.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The sixth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Describing the admirable accidents of Fortune; and the mighty prevailing power -of Love.</i></h4> - - -<p>The Novell which Madam <i>Philomena</i> had so graciously related, was -highly pleasing unto the other Ladies; because they had oftentimes -heard the Song, without knowing who made it, or uppon what occasion -it was composed. But when the King saw that the Tale was ended: hee -commanded <i>Pamphilus</i>, that hee should follow in his due course: whereupon -he spake thus.</p> - -<p>The dreame already recounted in the last Novell, doth minister matter -to me, to make report of another Tale, wherein mention is made of -two severall dreames; which divined 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.</p> - -<p>Worthy Ladies, I am sure it is not unknowne to you, that it is, & hath -bene a generall passion, to all men and women living, to see divers and -sundry things while they are sleeping. And although (to the sleeper) they -seeme most certaine, so that when he awaketh, hee judgeth the trueth of -some, the likelyhood of others, and some beyond all possibility of truth: -yet notwithstanding, many dreames have bene observed to happen, and -very strangely have come to passe. And this hath bene a grounded reason -for some men, to give as great credit to such things as they see sleeping, -as they do to others usually waking. So that, according unto their -dreames, and as they make construction of them, that are sadly distasted, -or merrily pleased, even as (by them) they either feare or hope. On the -contrary, there are some, who will not credit any dreame whatsoever, untill -they be falne into the very same danger which formerly they saw, and -most evidently in their sleepe.</p> - -<p>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 prove not all to be true, we can best testifie to our selves. And that -they are not alwayes lyars, hath already sufficiently bene manifested, by -the discourse of Madame <i>Philomena</i>, and as you shall perceive 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 favourable to us, and our visions -flatter us with prosperous successe: yet let us give no credence unto -the best, nor addicte our minds to them of contrary Nature. And now we -will proceed to our Novell.</p> - -<p>In the Citie of <i>Brescia</i>, there lived sometime a Gentleman, named <i>Messer -Negro da Ponte Cararo</i>, who (among many other children) had a daughter -called <i>Andreana</i>, yong and beautifull, but as yet unmarried. It fortuned, -that shee fell in love with a neighbour, named <i>Gabriello</i>, a comely -yong Gentleman, of affable complexion, and graciously conditioned. -Which love 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 <i>Andreanaes</i> Father, she had many -meetings with her <i>Gabriello</i>. And solemne vowes being mutually passed -betweene them, that nothing but death could alter their affection: by -such ceremonious words as are used in marriage, they maried themselves -secretly together, and continued their stolne chaste pleasures, with equall -contentment to them both.</p> - -<p>It came to passe, that <i>Andreana</i> sleeping in her bed, dreamed, that she -met with <i>Gabriello</i> in the Garden, where they both embracing lovingly -together, she seemed to see a thing blacke and terrible, which sodainely -issued forth of his body, but the shape thereof she could not comprehend. -It rudely seized upon <i>Gabriello</i>, & in despight of her utmost strength (with -incredible force) snatched him out of her armes, and sinking with him -into the earth, they never after did see one another; whereuppon, overcome -with extremity of greefe and sorrow, presently shee awaked, being -then not a little joyfull, that she found no such matter as shee feared, yet -continued very doubtfull of her dreame. In regard whereof, <i>Gabriello</i> 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 middst of the Garden.</p> - -<p>After some small familiar discourse passing betweene them, <i>Gabriello</i> -demanded of her upon what occasion shee denied his comming thither -the night before, and by such a sodaine unexpected admonition? <i>Andreana</i> -told him, that it was in regard of a troublesome dreame, wherewith hir -soule was perplexed the precedent night, and doubt what might ensue -thereon. <i>Gabriello</i> hearing this, began to smile, affirming to her, that it -was an especiall note of folly, to give any credit to idle dreames: because -(oftentimes) they are caused by excesse of feeding, and continually are -observed to be meere lies. For (quoth hee) if I had any superstitious beleefe -of dreames, I should not then have 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.</p> - -<p>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 loveliest and most pleasing beast that was ever 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 us (but whence, or how -I could not imagine) seeming halfe hunger-starved, and very ugly to look -upon. 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 upon 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 frivolous and idle search. What can be said then in these or the like cases? -Divers times I have had as ill seeming dreames, yea, and much more -to be feared: yet never any thing hurtfull to me followed thereon; and -therefore I have alwaies made the lesse account of them.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Gabriello</i>: but yet to give him no occasion of distast, she bare -it out in the best manner she could devise 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 upon his face, and throwing strange lookes to all -parts of the Garden, to catch hold on any such blacke ugly sight, whereof -he had formerly made description to her. As thus she continued in these -afflicting feares, it fortuned, that <i>Gabriello</i> sodainly breathing forth a very -vehement sighe, and throwing his armes fast about her, said: O helpe me -deare Love, or else I dye; and, in speaking the words, fell downe uppon -the ground. Which the yong Damosell perceiving, and drawing him into -her lappe, weeping saide: Alas sweete Friend, What paine dost thou -feele?</p> - -<p><i>Gabriello</i> answered not one word, but being in an exceeding sweate, -without any ability of drawing breath, very soone after gave up the ghost. -How greevous this strange accident was to poore <i>Andreana</i>, who loved -him as deerely as her owne life: you that have felt loves tormenting afflictions, -can more easily conceive, then I relate. Wringing her hands, & -weeping incessantly, calling him, rubbing his temples, and using all likely -meanes to reduce life: she found all her labour to be spent in vain, because -he was starke dead indeed, and every 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 sorrow. -After they had sighed and mourned awhile, over the dead body of <i>Gabriello, -Andreana</i> in this manner spake to her maid.</p> - -<p>Seeing Fortune hath thus bereft me of my Love, mine owne life must -needs be hatefull to me: but before I offer any violence to my selfe, let us -devise some convenient meanes, as may both preserve mine honour from -any touch or scandall, and conceale the secret love passing betweene us: -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, never talke of doing any violence to your self, -because by such a blacke and dismall deed, as you have lost his kind company -here in this life, so shall you never 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 fervent 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 never he hath bene seene by any, or his -resorting hither knowne, but onely to our selves. If you will not consent -to have it so, let you and I convey his bodye hence, and leave 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 give it honest buriall.</p> - -<p><i>Andreana</i>, although her soule was extraordinarily sorrowfull, & teares -flowed abundantly from her eyes; yet she listned attentively to hir maids -counsell; allowing her first advice against desperation, to be truly good; -but to the rest thus she replied. God forbid (quoth she) that I shold suffer -so deare a loving friend, as he hath alwayes shewed himselfe to mee; -nay, which is much more, my husband; by sacred and solemn vowes passed -betweene us, 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 prevaile, he shall have some of his kindred, as I have instantly -devised, what (in this hard case) is best to be done. Forthwith she sent -the maid to her Chamber, for divers elles of white Damaske lying in her -Chest, which when she had brought, they spread it abroad on the grasse, -even in the manner of a winding sheete, and therein wrapped the bodie -of <i>Gabriello</i>, with a faire wrought pillow lying under his head, having first -(with their teares) closed his mouth and eyes, and placed a Chaplet of -Flowers on his head, covering the whole shrowd over in the same manner, -which being done, thus she spake to her maide.</p> - -<p>The doore of his owne house is not farre hence, and thither (between -us two) he may be easily carried, even in this manner as we have adorned -him; where leaving 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 uttered 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 <i>Gabriello</i> had solemnly espoused her, and opening -the shroud againe, she put it on his finger, saying, My deare and loving -husband, if thy soule can see my teares, or any understanding do remaine -in thy body, being thus untimely taken from me: receive the latest guifte -thou gavest me, as a pledge of our solemne and spotlesse marriage. So, -making up the shroud againe as it should be, and conveighing it closely -out of the Garden, they went on along with it, towardes his dwelling -house.</p> - -<p>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. <i>Andreana</i>, 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 availe me: wherefore, I am ready -to go along with you before the Seigneurie, and there will 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 Objections.</p> - -<p>When notice heereof was given 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 divers -Physitians, to be informed by them, whether the Gentleman were -poysoned, or otherwise murthered: but al of them affirmed the contrary, -avouching rather, that some impostumation had engendred neere his -heart, which sodainly breaking, occasioned his as sodaine death. The Potestate -hearing this, and perceiving that <i>Andreana</i> 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, provoking him to the immodest -motion, that upon 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 <i>Virago</i>, -shee worthily withstood, defending her honour Nobly, and reprooving -him with many injurious speeches, such as a lustfull Letcher justlie deserved.</p> - -<p>On the morrow morning, these newes being brought to her Father, -<i>Messer Negro da Ponte Cararo</i>; greeving thereat exceedingly, and accompanied -with many of his friends, he went to the Palace. Being there arrived, -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 prove her, he had made such a motion to her, but finding her so -firmly vertuous, his love 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.</p> - -<p>While thus they continued talking, <i>Andreana</i> 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 have both seene and knowne them: rather most humblie, I -crave your pardon, for another error by me committed, in that, both -without your leave and liking, I accepted the man as my troth-plighted -husband, whom (above 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 favour; with which words, in signe -of her humility, she kissed his feete. <i>Messer Negro da Ponte</i>, being a man -well stept into yeares, and of a milde and gentle nature, observing what -his daughter had saide: could not refraine from teares, and in his weeping, -lovingly tooke her from the ground, speaking thus to her.</p> - -<p>Daughter, I could have wished, that thou hadst taken such an husband, -as (in my judgement) had bene best fitting for thee, and yet if thou didst -make election of one, answerable to thine owne good opinion & liking: -I have no just reason to be therewith offended. My greatest cause of complaint, -is, thy too severe concealing it from me, and the slender trust thou -didst repose in me, because thou hast lost him, before I knew him. Neverthelesse, -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 have contented thee, by making him my Sonne in Law, if -he had lived; so I will expresse the like love to him now he is dead. And -so turning himself to his kindred and friends, lovingly requested of them, -that they would grace <i>Gabriello</i> with most honourable obsequies.</p> - -<p>By this time, the kindred and friends to the dead man (uppon 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 <i>Gabriello</i> beeing -laide in the midst of the Court, upon the white Damaske shrowde given -by <i>Andreana</i>, with infinite Roses and other sweet Flowers lying thereon: -and such was the peoples love to him, that never was any mans death, -more to be bemoaned and lamented. Being delivered 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 honour and reverence.</p> - -<p>Within some few dayes after, the Potestate pursuing his former motion -of marriage, and the Father moving it to his daughter; she wold not -by any meanes listen thereto. And he being desirous to give her contentment, -delivered her and her Chamber-maid into a Religious Abbey, very -famous for devotion and sanctity, where afterwardes they ended their -lives.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Faire_Simonida_affecting_Pasquino_and_walking_with_him_in_a_pleasant_garden" id="Faire_Simonida_affecting_Pasquino_and_walking_with_him_in_a_pleasant_garden"><i>Faire</i> Simonida <i>affecting</i> Pasquino, <i>and walking with him in a pleasant garden, -it fortuned, that</i> Pasquino <i>rubbed his teeth with a leafe of Sage, and -immediately fell downe dead.</i> Simonida <i>being brought before the bench of -Justice, and charged with the death of</i> Pasquino: <i>she rubbed her teeth likewise -with one of the leaves of the same Sage, as declaring what shee saw him -do: and thereon she dyed also in the same manner.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The seaventh Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Whereby is given to understand, that Love & Death do use their power equally -alike, as well upon poore and meane persons, as on them that are rich and -Noble.</i></h4> - - -<p><i>Pamphilus</i> having ended his Tale, the King declaring an outward shew -of compassion, in regard of <i>Andreanaes</i> disastrous Fortune: fixed his -eye on Madam <i>Emillia</i>, and gave her such an apparant signe, as expressed -his pleasure, for her next succeeding in discourse; which being sufficient -for her understanding, thus she began: Faire assembly, the Novel so lately -delivered by <i>Pamphilus</i>, maketh me willing to report another to you, -varying from it, in any kinde of resemblance; onely this excepted: that -as <i>Andreana</i>, lost her lover in a Garden, even so did shee of whome I am -now to speake. And being brought before the seate of Justice, according -as <i>Andreana</i> 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 Love is such (according as wee have 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 unto you, either in all, or a great part of my -Novell, whereto our Citie pleadeth some title; though, by the diversity -of our discourses, talking of so many severall accidents; we have wandred -into many other parts of the world, to make all answerable to our owne -liking.</p> - -<p>It is not any long time since, when there lived in our City of <i>Florence</i>, -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 <i>Simonida</i>. Now, albeit shee was not supplied by any better -meanes, then to maintaine her selfe by her owne painfull travell, & 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 dejected a spirit, but had both -courage and sufficient vertue, to understand the secret solicitings of love, -and to distinguish the parts of well deserving, both by private behaviour -and outward ceremony. As naturall instinct was her first tutor thereto, -so wanted she not a second maine and urging motion; a chip hewed out -of the like Timber, one no better in birth then her selfe, a proper young -springall, named <i>Pasquino</i>, whose generous behaviour, and gracefull actions -(in bringing her daily wooll to spin, by reason his master was a Clothier) -prevailed upon her liking and affection.</p> - -<p>Nor was he negligent in the observation of her amorous regards, but -the Tinder tooke, and his soule flamed with the selfe-same fire; making -him as desirous of her loving acceptance, as possibly she could bee of his: -so that the commanding power of love, could not easily be distinguished -in which of them it had the greater predominance. For, everie 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 conceyved of him, and earnest desire to enjoy him. <i>Pasquino</i> on -the other side, as leysure gave him leave for the least conversing with her: -his disease was every way answerable to her, for teares stood in his eyes, -sighes flew abroad, to ease the poore hearts afflicting oppressions, which -though he was unable to conceale; yet would hee seeme to clowd them -cleanly, by entreating her that his masters worke might be neatly 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 received from her, were the choisest beauty of the whole peece; -so that when other worke-women played, <i>Simonida</i> was sure to want no -employment.</p> - -<p>Heereupon, the one soliciting, and the other taking delight in beeing -solicited; it came to passe, that often accesse bred the bolder courage, & -over-much bashfulnesse became abandoned, yet no immodestie passing -betweene them: but affection grew the better setled in them both, by interchangeable -vowes of constant perseverance, so that death onely, but -no disaster else had power to divide them. Their mutuall delight continuing -on in this manner, with more forcible encreasing of their Loves equall -flame; it fortuned, that <i>Pasquino</i> sitting by <i>Simonida</i>, tolde her of a -goodly Garden, whereto hee was desirous to bring her, to the end, that -they might the more safely converse together, without the suspition of -envious eyes. <i>Simonida</i> gave answer of her well-liking the motion, and -acquainting her Father therewith, he gave her leave, on the Sunday following -after dinner, to go serch the pardon of S. <i>Gallo</i>, and afterwards to -visit the Garden.</p> - -<p>A modest yong maiden named <i>Lagina</i>, following the same profession, -and being an intimate familiar friend, <i>Simonida</i> tooke along in her company, -and came to the Garden appointed by <i>Pasquino</i>; where shee found -him readily expecting her comming, and another friend also with him, -called <i>Puccino</i> (albeit more usually tearmed <i>Strambo</i>) a secret well-willer -to <i>Lagina</i>, whose love became the more furthered by this friendly meeting. -Each Lover delighting in his hearts chosen Mistresse, caused them -to walke alone by themselves, as the spaciousnesse of the Garden gave -them ample liberty: <i>Puccino</i> with his <i>Lagina</i> in one part, & <i>Pasquino</i> with -his <i>Simonida</i> 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 -themselves; affecting rather to continue still there, then in any part of the -Garden.</p> - -<p>One while they would sit downe by the Sage bed, and afterward rise -to walke againe, as ease or wearinesse seemed to invite them. At length, -<i>Pasquino</i> 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 <i>Simonida</i> beheld, wringing her hands, she -cryed out for helpe to <i>Strambo</i> and <i>Lagina</i>, who immediately came running -to her. They finding <i>Pasquino</i> not onely to be dead, but his bodie -swolne; and strangely over-spred with foule black spots, both on his face, -handes, and all parts else beside: <i>Strambo</i> cried out, saying; Ah wicked -maide, what hast thou poisoned him?</p> - -<p>These words and their shrill out-cries also, were heard by Neighbours -dwelling neere to the Garden, who comming in sodainly uppon them, -and seeing <i>Pasquino</i> lying dead, and hugely swoln, <i>Strambo</i> likewise complaining, -and accusing <i>Simonida</i> to have poysoned him; shee making no -answer, but standing in a gastly amazement, all her senses meerely confounded, -at such a strange and uncouth accident, in loosing him whome -she so dearely loved: knew not how to excuse her selfe, and therefore every -one verily beleeved, that <i>Strambo</i> had not unjustly 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 justified by <i>Strambo, Lagina,</i> and two men more; the one named <i>Atticciato</i>, -and the other <i>Malagevole</i>, fellowes and companions with <i>Pasquino</i>, -who came into the Garden also upon the out-cry.</p> - -<p>The Judge, without any delay at all, gave eare to the business, 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 presence of <i>Simonida</i>, hee desired to -see the dead body, and the place where he fell downe dead, because there -he intended to have 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 avoid the following of the turbulent multitude: -they departed from the bench of Justice, and came to the place, -where <i>Pasquinoes</i> body lay swolne like a Tunne. Demanding there questions, -concerning his behaviour, when they walked there in conference -together, and, not a little admiring the manner of his death, while hee -stood advisedly considering thereon.</p> - -<p>She going to the bed of Sage, reporting the whole precedent history, -even from the original to the ending: the better to make the case understood, -without the least colour of ill carriage towardes <i>Pasquino</i>; according -as she had seene him do, even so did she plucke another leafe of the -Sage, rubbing her teeth therewith, and champing it as he formerly did. -<i>Strambo</i>, and the other intimate friends of <i>Pasquino</i>, having noted in what -manner she used the Sage, and this appearing as her utmost refuge, either -to acquit or condemne her: in presence of the Judge they smiled thereat, -mocking and deriding whatsoever 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 just punishment for her abhominable transgression.</p> - -<p>Poore <i>Simonida</i>, sighing and sorrowing for her deere loves losse, and -(perhappes) not meanly terrified, with the strict infliction of torment so -severely urged and followed by <i>Strambo</i> 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, even by the like accident as <i>Pasquino</i> formerly -did, to the admirable astonishment of all there present.</p> - -<p>Oh poore infortunate Lovers, whose Starres were so inauspicious to -you, as to finish both your mortall lives, and fervent love, in lesse limitation -then a dayes space. How to censure of your deaths, and happines to -ensue thereon, by an accident so straunge and inevitable: it is not within -the compasse of my power, but to hope the best, and so I leave you. But -yet concerning <i>Simonida</i> her selfe, in the common opinion of us that remaine -living: her true vertue and innocency (though Fortune was other -wise most cruell to her) would not suffer her to sinke under the testimony -of <i>Strambo, Lagina, Atticciato</i> and <i>Malagevole</i>, 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 <i>Pasquino</i>, -in the verie same manner of death, and with such a speedie expedition.</p> - -<p>The Judge standing amazed, and all there present in his companie, -were silent for a long while together: but, uppon better re-collection of -his spirits, thus he spake. This inconvenience which thus hath hapned, -and confounded our senses with no common admiration; in mine opinion -concerneth the bed of Sage, avouching it either to bee venomous, -or dangerously infected; which (neverthelesse) is seldom found in Sage. -But to the end, that it may not be offensive to any more heereafter, I will -have it wholly digd up by the rootes, and then to bee burnt in the open -Market place.</p> - -<p>Hereupon, the Gardiner was presently sent for, and before the Judge -would depart thence, he saw the bed of Sage digged up by the roots, and -found the true occasion, whereby these two poore Lovers lost their lives. -For, just in the middest of the bed, and at the maine roote, which directed -all the Sage in growth; lay an huge mighty Toad, even weltring (as -it were) in a hole full of poyson; by meanes whereof, in conjecture of the -Judge, and all the rest, the whole bed of Sage became envenomed, occasioning -every leafe thereof to be deadly in taste. None being so hardie, -as to approach neere the Toade, they made a pile of wood directly over -it, and setting it on a flaming fire, threw all the Sage thereinto, and so they -were consumed together. So ended all further suite in Lawe, concerning -the deaths of <i>Pasquino</i> and <i>Simonida</i>: whose bodies being carried to -the Church of Saint <i>Paul</i>, by their sad and sorrowfull accusers, <i>Strambo, -Lagina, Atticciato</i> and <i>Malagevole</i>, were buried together in one goodlie -Monument, for a future memory of their hard Fortune.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Jeronimo_affecting_a_yong_Maiden_named_Silvestra_was_constrained_by_the" id="Jeronimo_affecting_a_yong_Maiden_named_Silvestra_was_constrained_by_the">Jeronimo <i>affecting a yong Maiden, named</i> Silvestra: <i>was constrained (by the -earnest importunity of his Mother) to take a journey to</i> Paris. <i>At his return -home from thence againe, hee found his love</i> Silvestra <i>married. By secret -meanes, he got entrance into her house, and dyed upon the bed lying by her. -Afterward, his body being carried to Church, to receive buriall, she likewise -died there instantly upon his coarse.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The eight Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is againe declared, the great indiscretion and folly of them, that think -to constraine love, according to their will, after it is constantly setled before: -With other instructions, concerning the unspeakeable power of -Love.</i></h4> - - -<p>Madam <i>Emillia</i> had no sooner concluded her Novell, but Madame -<i>Neiphila</i> (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 themselves 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 understanding, against infallible grounded reason, yea, and to -attempt courses, not only contrary to the counsell and judgment of men, -but also to crosse the nature of divine ordination. Out of which fancy & -ambitious presumption, many mighty harmes have already had beginning, -and more are like to ensue uppon such boldnesse, because it is the -ground of all evils.</p> - -<p>Now, in regard that among all other naturall things, no one is lesse -subject to take counsell, or can bee wrought to contrariety, then Love, -whose nature is such, as rather to run upon his owne rash consumption, -then to be ruled by admonitions of the very wisest: my memory hath inspired -itself, with matter incident to this purpose, effectually to approve, -what I have already said. For I am now to speake of a woman, who would -appeare to have more wit, then either she had indeed, or appertained to -her by any title. The matter also, wherein she would needs shew hir studious -judgement and capacity, was of much more consequence then she -could deserve to meddle withall. Yet such was the issue of her fond presuming; -that (in one instant) she expelled both love, and the soule of her -owne sonne out of his body, where (doubtlesse) it was planted by divine -favour and appointment.</p> - -<p>In our owne City (according to true & ancient testimony) there dwelt -sometime a very worthy and wealthy Merchant, named <i>Leonardo Sighiero</i>, -who by his wife had one onely Sonne, called <i>Jeronimo</i>, and within a -short while after his birth, <i>Leonardo</i> being very sicke, and having setled al -his affaires in good order; departed out of this wretched life to a better. -The Tutors and Governours of the Childe, thought it fittest to let him -live with his Mother, where he had his whole education, though schooled -among many other worthy neighbours children, according as in most -Cities they use to do. Yong <i>Jeronimo</i> 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 neighbours children, and much prety pastime -they found together.</p> - -<p>In the harmlesse recreations of youth, graver judgements have often -observed, that some especiall matter received then such original, as greater -effect hath followed thereon. And many times, parents and kindred -have 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 divers other such like kind -tearmes, prooving afterwards to be true indeede. It fell out so with our -yong <i>Jeronimo</i>; 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 favour and feature (albeit her Father was -but poore) <i>Jeronimo</i> most delighted to sport withall; and no other titles -passed betweene them, even 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.</p> - -<p>Nor grew this familiarity (as yet) any way distasted, till by their dayly -conversing together, and enterchange of infinite pretty speeches: <i>Jeronimo</i> -felt a strange alteration in his soule, with such enforcing and powerfull -afflictions; as he was never well but in her company, nor she enjoyed -any rest if <i>Jeronimo</i> were absent. At the length, this being noted by -his Mother, she beganne to rebuke him, yea, many times gave him both -threatnings and blowes, which proving 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 upon a blacke thorne, spake as -followeth.</p> - -<p>This Sonne of mine <i>Jeronimo</i>, being as yet but fourteene years of age, -is so deeply enamored of a yong Girle, named <i>Silvestra</i>, daughter unto 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 us procure -her marriage to some other. Wherefore, I hold it good, that to avoid so -great an inconvenience, we shold send <i>Jeronimo</i> 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 utterly disappointed; -his affection to her will the sooner ceasse, by frustrating his hope for ever -enjoying her, and so we shall have the better meanes, to match him with -one of greater quality. The Tutors did like well of her advice, not doubting -but it would take answerable effect: and therefore, calling <i>Jeronimo</i> -into a private Parlour, one of them began in this manner.</p> - -<p><i>Jeronimo</i>, you are now growne to an indifferent stature, and (almost) able -to take government of your selfe. It cannot then seeme any way inconvenient, -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 evermore remembred) and travaile would now seeme fitting for -you, as well to gaine experience in Traffick and Merchandize, as also to let you -see the worlds occurrences. Your Mother therefore (and we) have thought -it expedient, that you should journey from hence to <i>Paris</i>, there to continue -for some such fitting time, as may grant you full and free opportunity, -to survey what stocke of wealth is there employed for you, and to -make you understand, 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 civill courses of life; rather then by continuing here -to see none but Lords, Barons, and Gentlemen, whereof wee have too -great a number. When you are sufficiently qualified there, and have -learned what belongeth to a worthy Marchant, such as was <i>Leonardo Sighiero</i> -your famous Father; you may returne home againe at your owne -pleasure.</p> - -<p>The youth gave them attentive hearing, and (in few words) returned -them answer: That he would not give way to any such travaile, because -hee knew how to dispose of himselfe in <i>Florence</i>, as well as in any other -place he should be sent too. Which when his Tutors heard, they reproved -him with many severe 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 journey to <i>Paris</i>, -as in regard of his violent affection to the Maide; gave him very bitter -and harsh language. All which availing nothing, she began to speake -in a more milde and gentle straine, entreating him with flattering and affable -words, to be governed in this case by his Tutors good advise. And -so farre (in the end) she prevailed with him, that he yeelded to live at <i>Paris</i> -for the space of a yeare; but further time he would not graunt, and so -all was ended.</p> - -<p><i>Jeronimo</i> being gone to remain at <i>Paris</i>, his love daily increasing more -and more, by reason of his absence from <i>Silvestra</i>, under 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 -love 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 love <i>Silvestra</i>, by the cunning compacting of his Mother and Tutors, -he found married to a Tent-makers Sonne; whereat hee vexed and greeved -beyond all measure. Neverthelesse, seeing the case was now no way -to bee holpen; hee strove to beare it with so much patience, as so great -a wrong, and his hearts tormenting greefe, would give him leave to -doe.</p> - -<p>Having found out the place where she dwelt, hee began (as it is the -custome of yong Lovers) to use divers 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 never seene him before. Or if she did any way remember him, it appeared -to be so little, that manifest signes declared the contrary. Which -<i>Jeronimo</i> very quickely perceived, albeit not without many melanchollie -perturbations. Notwithstanding, he laboured by all possible meanes, to -recover her former kindnesse againe: but finding all his paines frivouslie -employed; he resolved to dye, and yet to compasse some speech with her -before.</p> - -<p>By meanes of a neere dwelling neighbour (that was his verie deare & -intimate friend) he came acquainted with every part of the house, & prevailed -so far, that one evening, when she and her husband supt at a neighbours -house; he compassed accesse into the same bed chamber, where <i>Silvestra</i> -used most to lodge. Finding the Curtaines ready drawne, he hid -himselfe behinde them on the further side of the bed, and so tarried there -untill <i>Silvestra</i> and her husband were returned home, and laide downe in -bedde to take their rest. The husbands sences were soone overcome with -sleepe, by reason of his painefull toyling all the day, and bodies that are -exercised with much labour, are the more desirous to have ease. She staying -up last, to put out the light, and hearing her husband sleepe so soundly, -that his snoring gave good evidence thereof: layed her selfe down the -more respectively, as being very loath any way to disease him, but sweetly -to let him enjoy his rest.</p> - -<p><i>Silvestra</i> lay on the same side of the bed, where <i>Jeronimo</i> had hid himselfe -behinde the Curtaines; who stepping softly to her in the darke, and -laying his hand gently on her brest, saide: Deare Love, forbeare a little -while to sleepe, for heere is thy loyall friend <i>Jeronimo</i>. The yong woman -starting with amazement, would have 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 leave of her. Alas <i>Jeronimo</i> (quoth she) those idle -dayes are past and gone, when it was no way unseemly for our youth, to -entertaine equality of those desires, which then well agreed with our -young blood. Since when, you have lived 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 never -heard the least salutation from you. Now you know me to be a married -wife, in regard whereof, my thoughts have embraced that chaste and honourable -resolution, not to minde any man but my husband; and therefore, -as you are come hither without my love or license, so in like manner -I do desire you to be gone. Let this priviledge of my Husbandes sound -sleeping, be no colour to your longer continuing heere, or encourage -you to finde any further favour 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 have both -mutually embraced.</p> - -<p>The yong man, hearing these wordes, and remembring what loving -kindnesse he had formerly found, what secret love Letters hee had sent -from <i>Paris</i>, with other private intelligences and tokens, which never -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 upon the beds side by her, uttered these his very last words. -<i>Silvestra</i> farewell, thou hast kilde the kindest heart that ever loved a woman: -and speaking no more, gave up the ghost. She hearing these words -delivered with an entire sighe, and deepe-fetcht groane: did not imagine -the strange consequence following thereon; yet was mooved to much -compassion, in regard of her former affection to him. Silent shee lay an -indifferent while, as being unable to returne him any answer; and looking -when he would be gone, according as before she had earnestly entreated -him. But when she perceyved him to lye so still, as neither word or motion -came from him, she saide: Kinde <i>Jeronimo</i>, why doest thou not depart -and get thee gone? So putting forth her hand, it hapned to light upon -his face, which she felt to be as cold as yce: whereat marvelling not a -little, as also at his continued silence: shee jogged him, and felt his hands -in like manner, which were stiffely extended forth, and all his body cold, -as not having any life remaining in him, which greatly amazing her, and -confounding her with sorrow beyond all measure, shee was in such perplexity, -that the could not devise what to do or say.</p> - -<p>In the end, she resolved 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, unknowne 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 unexpected -extremity, was, to take the dead body, and convey it to his owne -house, if he had any; whereby no scandall or reproach would followe -to them, in whose house he had so unfortunately dyed. Heereupon, shee -immediately arose, and lighting a candle, shewed him the dead bodie of -<i>Jeronimo</i>, with protestation of every particular, both of her innocencie, -either of knowledge of his comming thither, or any other blame that -could concerne her. Which hee both constantly knowing and beleeving, -made no more ceremonie, but putting on his Garments, tooke the dead -bodie upon his shoulders, and carried it to the Mothers doore, where he -left it, and afterward returned to his owne house againe.</p> - -<p>When day light was come, and the dead body found lying in the -Porch, it moved very much greefe and amazement, considering, he had -bin seene the day before, in perfect health to outward appearance. Nor -neede we to urge any question of his Mothers sorrow upon this straunge -accident, who, causing his body to bee carefully searched, without any -blow, bruise, wound, or hurt uppon it, the Physitians could not give 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 heavily by it, as many more did the like beside, because -he was beloved of every one. In which time of universall mourning, -the honest man (in whose house he dyed) spake thus to his wife: disguise -thyselfe in some decent manner, and go to the Church, where (as -I heare) they have laide the body of <i>Jeronimo</i>. 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.</p> - -<p><i>Silvestra</i>, 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 -advisedly we consider on the powerfull working of love; for the heart of -this woman, which the prosperous fortune of <i>Jeronimo</i> could not pierce, -now in his wofull death did split in sunder; and the ancient sparks of love -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 upon it: & even -as extremity of greefe finished his life, so did it hers in the same manner. -For she moved neither hand not foot, because her vitall powers had quite -forsaken her. The women labouring to comfort her by al the best means -they could devise; did not take any knowledge of her, by reason of her -disguised garments: but finding her dead indeede, and knowing her also -to be <i>Silvestra</i>, being overcome with unspeakable compassion, & danted -with no meane admiration, they stood strangely gazing each upon other.</p> - -<p>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 -understanding, 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 <i>Silvestra</i> and <i>Jeronimo</i>; by which discourse, -they generally conceived, the certaine occasion of both their sodaine -deaths, which moved 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 fortunes, they gave them honourable buriall -both in one grave. So, this poore couple, whome love (in life) could not -joyne together, death did unite in an inseparable conjunction.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Messer_Guiglielmo_of_Rossiglione_having_slaine_Messer_Guiglielmo_Guardastagno" id="Messer_Guiglielmo_of_Rossiglione_having_slaine_Messer_Guiglielmo_Guardastagno"><i>Messer</i> Guiglielmo <i>of</i> Rossiglione <i>having slaine Messer</i> Guiglielmo Guardastagno, -<i>whom hee imagined to love his wife, gave 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.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The ninth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Whereby appeareth, what ill successe attendeth on them, that love contrarie to -reason: in offering injurie both to friendship and marriage together.</i></h4> - - -<p>When the Novell of Madam <i>Neiphila</i> was ended, which occasioned -much compassion in the whole assembly; the King who wold -not infringe the priviledge graunted to <i>Dioneus</i>, no more remaining to -speake but they two, began thus. I call to minde (gentle Ladies) a Novell, -which (seeing we are so farre entred into the lamentable accidents of -successelesse love) will urge you unto 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 respective quality; which approveth the -accident to bee more cruell, then those whereof wee have formerly discoursed.</p> - -<p>According as the people of <i>Provence</i> do report, there dwelt sometime -in that jurisdiction, two noble Knights, each well possessed of Castles & -followers; the one beeing named <i>Messer Guiglielmo de Rossiglione</i>, and the -other <i>Messer Guiglielmo Guardastagno</i>. Now, in regard that they were both -valiant Gentlemen, and singularly expert in actions of Armes; they loved -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 five miles distant each from other, yet were they dayly conversant -together, as very loving and intimate friends. The one of them, I -meane <i>Messer Guiglielmo de Rossiglione</i>, had to wife a very gallant beautifull -Lady, of whom <i>Messer Guardastagno</i> (forgetting the lawes of respect -and loyall friendshippe) became over-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 lovingly entertained; -yet she grew not so forgetfull of her honour and estimation, as -the other did of faith to his friend.</p> - -<p>With such indiscretion was this idle love carried, that whether it sorted -to effect, or no, I know not: but the husband perceived some such manner -of behaviour, 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 converted 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 <i>Guardastagno</i>. Nothing wanted, but by what meanes it might -best be effected, which fell out to bee in this manner. A publicke Just or -Tourney, was proclaimed by sound of Trumpet throughout all France, -wherewith immediately, <i>Messer Guiglielmo Rossiglione</i> acquainted <i>Messer -Guardastagno</i>, entreating him that they might further conferre thereon together, -and for that purpose to come and visit him, if he intended to have -any hand in the businesse. <i>Guardastagno</i> being exceeding gladde of this -accident, which gave him liberty to see his Mistresse; sent answer backe -by the messenger, that on the morrow at night, he would come and sup -with <i>Rossiglione</i>; who upon this reply, projected to himselfe in what manner -to kill him.</p> - -<p>On the morrow, after dinner, arming himselfe, and two more of his -servants 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 <i>Guardastagno</i> 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 -unarmed, as no way distrusting any such intended treason. So soone as -he was come to the place, where he had resolved to do the deed; hee rushed -forth of the ambush, and having a sharpe Lance readily charged in -his rest, ran mainly at him, saying: False villain, thou art dead. <i>Guardastagno</i>, -having nothing wherewith to defend himselfe, nor his servants able -to give 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 usually -worne.</p> - -<p><i>Messer Guiglielmo Rossiglione</i>, alighting from his horse, and having a -keene knife ready drawne in his hand; opened therewith the brest of dead -<i>Guardastagno</i>, 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 never 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 <i>Guardastagnoes</i> intent, -to suppe there that night, and (perhaps) being earnestly desirous to see -him; mervailing at his so long tarrying, saide to her husband. Beleeve -me Sir (quoth she) me thinkes it is somewhat strange, that <i>Messer Guiglielmo -Guardastagno</i> delayes his comming so long, he never used to do so till -now. I received 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 used no more words.</p> - -<p><i>Rossiglione</i> leaving his Lady, went into the Kitchin, where calling for -the Cooke, he delivered 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 devise to doe; which being so done, when I -am set at the Table, send it to me in a silver dish, with sauce beseeming -so dainty a morsell. The Cooke tooke the heart, beleeving it to be no otherwise, -then as his Lord had saide: and using his utmost skill in dressing -it, did divide it into artificiall small slices, and made it most pleasing to be -tasted. When supper time was come, <i>Rossiglione</i> 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 provoked her with many faire speeches, to tast the Cooks -cunning in so rare a dish.</p> - -<p>The Lady having 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 perceyved that all was eaten, he said unto 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 never better pleased. Now trust mee -Madam, answered the Knight, I doe verily beleeve you, nor do I greatly -wonder thereat, if you like that dead, which you loved so dearly being alive. -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 have -made me to eate? Muse no longer (said he) for therein I will quickly resolve -thee. Thou hast eaten the heart of <i>Messer Guiglielmo Guardastagno</i>, -whose love 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.</p> - -<p>Poor Lady, how strangely was her soule afflicted, hearing these harsh -and unpleasing 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 have done a most -disloyall and damnable deede, misguided by your owne wicked jealous -opinion, and not by any just cause given you, to murther so worthie and -Noble a Gentleman. I protest unto you uppon my soule, which I wish -to bee confounded in eternall perdition, if ever I were unchaste to your -bedde, or allowed him any other favour, 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 <i>Guardastagno</i>; never shall any other -foode heereafter, have entertainment there, or my selfe live the Wife to -so bloody a husband.</p> - -<p>So starting uppe from the Table, and stepping unto 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 shivered -her bodie into many peeces. Which <i>Rossiglione</i> perceyving, 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 over-credulous -conceit.</p> - -<p>Uppon further conference with his private thoughtes, and remorsefull -acknowledgement of his heinous offence, which repentance (too -late) gave him eyes now to see, though rashnesse before would not permit -him to consider; these two extreamities inlarged his dulled understanding. -First, he grew fearfull of the friends and followers to murdered -<i>Guardastagno</i>, as also the whole Countrey of <i>Provence</i>, in regarde of the -peoples generall love unto him; which being two maine and important -motives, both to the detestation of so horrid an acte, and immediate severe -revenge to succeed thereon: hee made such provision as best hee -could, and as so sodaine a warning would give leave, hee fled away secretly -in the night season.</p> - -<p>These unpleasing newes were soone spread abroad the next morning, -not only of the unfortunate accidents, but also of <i>Rossigliones</i> flight; -in regard whereof, the dead bodyes being found, and brought together, -as well by the people belonging to <i>Guardastagno</i>, as them that attended -on the Lady: they were layed in the Chappell of <i>Rossigliones</i> 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 -engraven thereon, expressing both their noble degree, and by what -unhappy meanes, they chanced to have buriall there.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="A_Physitians_wife_laide_a_Lover_of_her_Maids_supposing_him_to_bee_dead_in_a" id="A_Physitians_wife_laide_a_Lover_of_her_Maids_supposing_him_to_bee_dead_in_a"><i>A Physitians wife laide a Lover of her Maids (supposing him to bee dead) in a -Chest, by reason that he had drunke water, which usually was given to procure -a sleepy entrancing. Two Lombard Usurers, 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 Justice, accuseth her selfe for putting -the imagined dead body into the Chest, by which meanes he escapeth hanging. -And the theeves which stole away the Chest, were condemned to pay a great -summe of money.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The tenth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is declared, that sometime by adventurous accident, rather then anie -reasonable comprehension, a man may escape out of manifold perilles, but -especially in occurrences of Love.</i></h4> - - -<p>After that the King had concluded his Novell, there remained -none now but <i>Dioneus</i> to tell the last; which himselfe confessing, -and the King commaunding him to proceede, he beganne in this -manner. So many miseries of unfortunate Love, as all of you have -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 up 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 humour, 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 Novell which may -minister a more joviall kinde of argument, unto those tales that must bee -told to morrow, and with the expiration of our present Kings reigne, to -rid us of all heart-greeving heereafter.</p> - -<p>Know then (most gracious assembly) that it is not many yeares since, -when there lived in <i>Salerne</i>, a verie famous Physitian, named Signieur -<i>Mazzeo della Montagna</i>, who being already well entred into years, would -(neverthelesse) marrie with a beautifull young Mayden of the Cittie, -bestowing rich garments, gaudie attyres, Ringes, and Jewelles on her, -such as few Women else could any way equall, because hee loved her -most deerely. Yet being an aged man, and never remembering, how -vaine and idle a thing it is, for age to make such an unfitting Election, -injurious 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 -<i>Ricciardo de Cinzica</i>, some dayes of the Calender did heere seeme -as distastefull, as those that occasioned the other Womans discontentment. -In such unequall choyses, Parents commonly are more blame-woorthie, -then any imputation, to bee layde on the young Women, -who gladdely would enjoy such as in heart they have elected: but that -their Parents, looking thorough the glasses of greedie lucre, doe overthrow -both their owne hopes, and the faire fortunes of their children together.</p> - -<p>Yet to speake uprightly 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 urging -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 services (seeming compassionate -of the womans disaster) are usually the cause of jealous suspitions, & very -heinous houshold discontentments.</p> - -<p>Among divers other, that faine would bee nibling at this bayte of -beautie, there was one, named <i>Ruggiero de Jeroly</i>, 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 utterly gave -him over to his dissolute courses: so that, thoroughout all <i>Salerne</i>, his -conditions caused his generall contempt, and hee accounted no better, -but even as a theeving and lewde companion. The Doctours Wife, -had a Chamber-maide attending on her; who, notwithstanding all the -ugly deformities in <i>Ruggiero</i>, 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.</p> - -<p><i>Ruggiero</i> having this benefite of the Maides kinde love to him, made it -an hopefull mounting Ladder, whereby to derive 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 unable by any perswasions to remoove -her, tooke knowledge of <i>Ruggieroes</i> privat resorting to hir house, -and in meere love to her Maide (who had very many especiall deservings -in her) oftentimes she would (in kinde manner) rebuke him, and advise -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 Silver, 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.</p> - -<p>In the continuance of these proceedings, it came to passe, that master -Doctor <i>Mazzeo</i> (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 -judgement having 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 prejudice any other part of the bodie. The case beeing thus -resolved on with the Pacient and his Friends, the day and time was appointed -when the deede should be done: and the Doctor conceyving, -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 receyved it) it will procure a kinde of dead sleepe, and endure so -long a space, as necessity requireth the use thereof, in full performance of -the worke.</p> - -<p>After he had made this sleepy water, he put it into a glasse, wherewith -it was filled (almost) up to the brimme; and till the time came when hee -should use it; hee set it in his owne Chamber-Windowe, never acquainting -any one, to what purpose he had provided the water, nor what -was his reason of setting it there; when it drew towards the evening, and -he was returned home from his pacients, a Messenger brought him Letters -from <i>Malfy</i>, concerning a great conflict hapning there between two -Noble Families, wherein divers were very dangerously wounded on either -side, and without his speedy repairing thither, it would prove to the -losse of many lives. Heereupon, the cure of the mans leg must needs bee -prolonged, untill 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 small Barke, -and forthwith set away towards <i>Malfy</i>.</p> - -<p>This absence of Master Doctor <i>Mazzeo</i>, gave opportunity to adventurous -<i>Ruggiero</i>, to visite his house (he being gone) in hope to get more -Crownes, and courtesie from the Mistresse, under formall colour of -courting the Maide. And being closely admitted into the house, when -divers 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 <i>Ruggiero</i> 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 leave, and were gone. <i>Ruggiero</i> 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.</p> - -<p>Now, whether feeding on salt meats before his coming thither, or customary -use of drinking, which maketh men unable any long while to abstain, -as being never satisfied with excesse; which of these two extreams -they were, I know not: but drink needs hee must. And, having no other -meanes for quenching his thirst, espied the glasse of water standing in the -Window, and thinking it to be some soveraigne kinde of water, reserved -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 every 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.</p> - -<p>No sooner were all the Neighbours gone, and the Maide at libertie -from her Mistresse, but unlocking the doore, into the chamber she went; -and finding <i>Ruggiero</i> sitting fast asleepe, she began to hunch and punche -him, entreating him (softly) to awake: but all was to no purpose, for hee -neither mooved, or answered one word, whereat her patience being some -what provoked, 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. <i>Ruggiero</i> 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 devise to do, yet all -her labour proving still in vaine: she was almost beside her wits, stamping -and raving all about the roome, as if sence and reason had forsaken her; -so violent was her extreame distraction.</p> - -<p>Upon the hearing of this noise, her Mistris came sodainely into the -Chamber, where being affrighted at so strange an accident, and suspecting -that <i>Ruggiero</i> 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 advisedly 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 love to this unruly fellow -that can sway the censure of the monster multitude, in beleeving his accesse -hither onely to thee: but my good name, and honest repute, as yet -untoucht with the very least taxation, will be rackt on the tenter of infamous -judgement, and (though never so cleare) branded with generall -condemnation. It is wisedome therefore, that we should make no noise -but (in silence) consider with our selves, how to cleare the house of this -dead body, by some such helpfull and witty device, as when it shall bee -found in the morning, his being heere may passe without suspition, and -the worlds rash opinion no way touch us.</p> - -<p>Weeping and lamenting is now laid aside, and all hope in them of his -lives 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 evening, although it was very late, at our next Neighbours -doore (who you know is a Joyner 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 remooved: and if the owner have not -lockt it, all invention else cannot furnish us with the like help. For therein -will we lay his body, whereon I will bestow two or three wounds with -my Knife, and leaving 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. Moreover, -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 business, and afterward -hid his body in the chest, it standing so fitly for the purpose, and -darke night also favouring the deed.</p> - -<p>The Maids counsell past under the seale of allowance, only her Mistris -thought it not convenient, that (having 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 conveied -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 unlockt, whereof they -were not a little joyfull. By the helpe of her Mistresse, the Maide tooke -<i>Ruggiero</i> upon her shoulders, and bringing him to the doore, with -diligent respect that no one could discover them; in the Chest they laide -him, and so there left him, closing downe the lidde according as they -found it.</p> - -<p>In the same street, and not farre from the Joyner, dwelt two yong men -who were Lombards, living uppon the interest of their moneyes, coveting -to get much, and spend little. They having observed where the chest -stood, and wanting a necessary mooveable 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 heavy, and therefore imagining, that matter of woorth was -contained therein. In the chamber where their wives lay, they left it; and -so without any further search till the next morning, they laid them down -to rest likewise.</p> - -<p><i>Ruggiero</i>, 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 recoverd 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 divers dayes and nights afterward. Having his eies wide open, & yet -not discerning any thing, he stretched forth his armes every 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 up in a chest. What shold -I thinke heereof? Is master Doctor returned home, or hath some other -inconvenience 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.</p> - -<p>Continuing thus a longer while then otherwise hee would have done, -because his lying in the bare Chest was somewhat uneasie and painfull to -him; turning divers times on the one side, and then as often again on the -other, coveting 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 un-even -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 overcome with feare, that they had not the power to speake one -word. <i>Ruggiero</i> also being affrighted with the Chests fall, and perceiving -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 -up 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.</p> - -<p>When the Women (being then awake) heard his trampling, as also -his justling against the doores and Windowes; they demaunded, -Who was there? <i>Ruggiero</i>, 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, Theeves, Theeves. The -neighbours arose upon this outcry, running up and downe from place to -place, some engirting the house, and others entering into it: by means of -which troublesome noise, the two Lombards awaked, and seizing there -uppon poore <i>Ruggiero</i>, (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.</p> - -<p>By this time, the Sergeants and other Officers of the City, ordinarily -attending on the Magistrate, beeing raised by the tumult of this uproare, -were come into the house, and had poore <i>Ruggiero</i> committed unto their -charge: who bringing him before the Governor, 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, never 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 Governor gave him sentence to be hanged.</p> - -<p>Soone were the newes spread throughout <i>Salerne</i>, that <i>Ruggiero</i> was -apprehended, about robbing the house of the two usuring Lombardes: -which when Mistresse Doctor and her Chamber-maide heard, they were -confounded with most straunge admiration, and scarsely credited what -they themselves had done the night before, but rather imagined all matters -past, to be no more then meerely a dreame, concerning <i>Ruggieroes</i> -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.</p> - -<p>In a short while after, Master Doctor <i>Mazzeo</i> was returned from <i>Malfy</i>, -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 never 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 us 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.</p> - -<p>When she had heard these words of her husband, presently she conceived, -that the water was drunke off by <i>Ruggiero</i>, which had so sleepily -entranced his sences, as they verily thought him to bee dead, wherefore -she saide. Beleeve me Sir, you never acquainted us with any such matter, -which would have procured more carefull respect of it: but seeing -it is gone, 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 understand truly, whither -the condemned man was <i>Ruggiero</i>, 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 <i>Ruggiero</i>, who is the man condemned to dye; and, for -ought I can perceive, he hath neither Kinsman nor Friend that will doe any -thing for him; but he is left with the Provost, and must be executed to -morrow morning. Moreover Mistresse, by such instructions as I have -received, I can well-neere informe you, by what meanes hee came to the -two Lombards house, if all be true that I have heard.</p> - -<p>You know the Joyner before whose doore the Chest stoode, wherein -we did put <i>Ruggiero</i>; there is now a contention betweene him and another -man, to whom (it seemeth) the Chest doth belong; in regard whereof, -they are readie to quarrell extremly each with other. For the one owning -the Chest, and trusting the Joyner to sell it for him, would have him -to pay him for the Chest. The Joyner denieth any sale thereof, avouching, -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 -usurers, as himself is able to affirme, because he found it in the house, -when he (being present at the apprehension of <i>Ruggiero</i>) sawe it there in -the same house. Heereupon, the Joyner gave him the lye, because he never -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, even as I returned home. -Wherefore Mistresse, as you may easily perceive, <i>Ruggiero</i> was (questionlesse) -carried thither in the chest, and so there found; but how he revived -againe, I cannot comprehend.</p> - -<p>The Mistresse understanding now apparantly, the full effect of the -whole businesse, and in what manner it had bene carried, revealed to the -maide her husbands speeches, concerning the glasse of sleepie Water, -which was the onely engine of all this trouble, clearly acquitting <i>Ruggiero</i> -of the robbery, howsoever (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 behaviour 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 advise her with some such happy course, as might bee -the safety of poore <i>Ruggieroes</i> life. Mistresse Doctor, affecting her maide -dearely, and plainly perceiving, that no disastrous fortune whatsoever, -could alter her love to condemned <i>Ruggiero</i>; hoping the best heereafter, -as the Maide her selfe did, and willing to save life rather then suffer it to -be lost without just cause, she directed her in such discreet manner, as you -will better conceyve by the successe.</p> - -<p>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 -over-much offended him. As how? said Master Doctor. In this manner -(quoth the Maid) and thus proceeded. You are not ignorant Sir, what a -leud liver <i>Ruggiero de Jeroly</i> is, and notwithstanding all his imperfections, -how dearely I love him, as hee protesteth the like to me, and thus hath -our love continued a yeare, and more. You beeing gone to <i>Malfy</i>, and -your absence granting me apt opportunity, for conference with so kinde -a friend; I made the bolder, and gave him entrance into your house, yea -even 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 unable 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 have heard your discontentment for the said Water, and -confesse my fault to you therein: but who liveth so justly, without offending -at one time or other? And I am heartily sorry for my transgression; -yet not so much for the water, as the hard fortune that hath followd thereon; -because thereby <i>Ruggiero</i> is in danger to lose his life, and all my hopes -are utterly 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 devise.</p> - -<p>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 have paide thee with deserved -repentance, upon thy Mistresses finding thee sleeping. But go and -get his deliverance if thou canst, with this caution, that if ever heereafter -he be seene in my house, the peril thereof shall light on thy selfe. Receyving -this answer, for her first entrance into the attempt, and as her Mistris -had advised her, in all hast shee went to the prison, where shee prevailed -so well with the Jaylor, that hee granted her private conference -with <i>Ruggiero</i>. She having instructed him what he should say to the Provost, -if he had any purpose to escape with life; went thither before him to -the Provost, 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.</p> - -<p>Sir (quoth shee) you have apprehended <i>Ruggiero de Jeroly</i>, as a theefe, -and judgement 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 every circumstance, from the -originall to the end: relating truly, that being her Lover, 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 Joyner, and him that laide claime to -the Chest, giving him to understand thereby, how <i>Ruggiero</i> was taken in -the Lombards house.</p> - -<p>The Provost presently gathering, that the truth in this case was easy to -be knowne; sent first for Master Doctor <i>Mazzeo</i>, to know, whether hee -compounded any such water, or no: which he affirmed to bee true, and -upon what occasion he prepared it. Then the Joyner, the owner of the -Chest, and the two Lombards, being severally questioned withall: it appeared -evidently, that the Lombards did steale the chest in the night season, -and carried it home to their owne house. In the end, <i>Ruggiero</i> 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 <i>Mazzeo -della Montagna</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>When the Provost had heard all their answers, which he caused them -to repeate over divers times, in regard they were very pleasing to him: he -cleared <i>Ruggiero</i> from the crime imposed on him, and condemned the -Lombards in three hundred Ducates, to bee given to <i>Ruggiero</i> 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 -<i>Ruggiero</i>; that, after his marriage, which was graced with great and -honourable pompe, he regained the intimate love of all his kindred, and -lived in most Noble condition, even as if he had never beene the disordered -man.</p> - -<p>If the former Novels had made all the Ladies sad and sighe, this last -of <i>Dioneus</i> as much delighted them, as restoring them to their former jocond -humour, and banishing Tragicall discourse for ever. The King perceyving -that the Sun was neere setting, and his government as neere ending, -with many kinde and courteous speeches, excused himselfe to the -Ladies, for being the motive of such an argument, as expressed the infelicity -of poore Lovers. And having finished his excuse, up 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 proved to be the gracious -Lady <i>Fiammetta</i>, 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 sorrow which they have this day endured.</p> - -<p>Madame <i>Fiammetta</i>, whose lockes of haire were curled, long, and like -golden wiers, hanging somewhat downe over her white & delicate shoulders, -her visage round, wherein the Damaske Rose and Lilly contended -for priority, the eyes in her head, resembling those of the Faulcon messenger, -and a dainty mouth; her lippes looking like two little Rubyes -with a commendable smile thus she replyed.</p> - -<p><i>Philostratus</i>, gladly I do accept your gift; and to the end that ye may -the better remember your selfe, concerning what you have done hitherto: -I will and commaund, that generall preparation bee made against to -morrow, for faire and happy fortunes hapning to Lovers, after former -cruell and unkinde accidents. Which proposition was very pleasing to -them all.</p> - -<p>Then calling for the Master of the Housholde, and taking order with -him, what was most needfull to be done; shee gave leave unto the whole -company (who were all risen) to go recreate themselves until supper time. -Some of them walked about the Garden, the beauty whereof banished -the least thought of wearinesse. Others walked by the River to the Mill, -which was not farre off, and the rest fell to exercises, fitting their own fancies, -untill they heard the summons for Supper. Hard by the goodly -Fountaine (according to their wonted manner) they supped altogether, -and were served to their no mean contentment: but being risen from the -Table, they fell to their delight of singing and dancing. While <i>Philomena</i> -led the dance, the Queene spake in this manner.</p> - -<p><i>Philostratus</i>, I intend not to varie from those courses heeretofore observed -by my predecessors, but even as they have already done, so it is my -authority, to command a Song. And because I am well assured, that you -are not unfurnished of Songs answerable to the quality of the passed Novels: -my desire is, in regard we would not be troubled heereafter, with -any more discourses of unfortunate Love, that you shall sing a Song agreeing -with your owne disposition. <i>Philostratus</i> made answer, that he -was readie to accomplish her command, and without all further ceremony, -thus he began.</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>The Song</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Chorus. <i>My teares do plainly prove,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>How justly that poore heart hath cause to greeve,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Which (under trust) findes Treason in his love.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>When first I saw her, that now makes me sigh,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Distrust did never enter in my thoughts.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>So many vertues clearly shin'd in her,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>That I esteem'd all martyrdome was light</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Which Love could lay on me. Nor did I greeve,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Although I found my liberty was lost.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>But now mine error I do plainly see:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Not without sorrow, thus betray'd to bee.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i5"><i>My teares do, &c.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>For, being left by basest treachery</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Of her in whom I most reposed trust:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>I then could see apparant flatterie</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>In all the fairest shewes that she did make.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>But when I strove to get forth of the snare,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>I found myselfe the further plunged in.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>For I beheld another in my place,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And I cast off, with manifest disgrace.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i5"><i>My teares do, &c.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Then felt my heart such hels of heavy woes,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Not utterable. I curst the day and houre</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>When first I saw her lovely countenance,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Enricht with beautie, farre beyond all other,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Which set my soule on fire, enflamde each part,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Making a martyrdome of my poore hart.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>My faith and hope being basely thus betrayde;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>I durst not moove, to speake I was affrayde.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i5"><i>My teares do, &c.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Thou canst (thou powerfull God of Love) perceive,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>My ceasselesse sorrow, voide of any comfort,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>I make my moane to thee, and do not fable,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Desiring, that to end my misery,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Death may come speedily, and with his Dart</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>With one fierce stroke, quite passing through my hart:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>To cut off future fell contending strife,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>An happy end be made of Love and Life.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i5"><i>My teares do, &c.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>No other meanes of comfort doth remaine,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>To ease me of such sharpe afflictions,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>But only death. Grant then that I may die,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>To finish greefe and life in one blest houre.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>For, being bereft of any future joyes,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Come, take me quickly from so false a friend.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Yet in my death, let thy great power approve,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>That I died true, and constant in my Love.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i5"><i>My teares, &c.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Happy shall I account this sighing Song,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>If some (beside my selfe) doe learne to sing it,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And so consider of my miseries,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>As may incite them to lament my wrongs.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And to be warned by my wretched fate;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Least (like my selfe) themselves do sigh too late.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Learne Lovers learne, what tis to be unjust,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And be betrayed where you repose best trust.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Finis<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>The words contained in this Song, did manifestly declare, what torturing -afflictions poore <i>Philostratus</i> felt, and more (perhaps) had beene -perceived 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 up into her face. But the Song being ended, & -divers other beside, lasting till the houre of rest drew on; by command of -the Queene, they all repaired to their Chambers.</p> - - -<h4><i>The End of the Fourth Day.</i></h4> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="THE_FIFT_DAY" id="THE_FIFT_DAY">THE FIFT DAY.</a></h2> - - -<h4><i>Whereon, all the Discourses do passe under the Governement -of the most Noble Lady</i> Fiammetta: <i>Concerning -such persons, as have bene successefull in their Love, after many hard and -perillous misfortunes.</i></h4> - - -<h4>The Induction.</h4> - - -<p>Now began the Sunne to dart foorth his golden -beames, when Madam <i>Fiammetta</i> (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, until the Sunne were risen -a little higher. On many pleasant matters they -conferred together, as they walked in severall companies, till at the length -the Queene, finding the heate to enlarge it selfe strongly, returned backe -to the Castle; where when they were all arrived, shee commanded, that -after this mornings walking, their stomackes should bee refreshed with -wholsome Wines, as also divers sorts of banquetting stuffe. Afterward, -they all repaired into the Garden, not departing thence, untill the houre -of dinner was come: at which time, the Master of the houshold, having -prepared every thing in decent readinesse, after a solemn song was sung, -by order from the Queene, they were seated at the Table.</p> - -<p>When they had dined, to their owne liking and contentment, they began -(in continuation of their former order) to exercise divers dances, and -afterward voyces to their instruments, with many pretty Madrigals and -Roundelayes. Uppon the finishing of these delights, the Queene gave -them leave to take their rest, when such as were so minded, went to sleep, -others solaced themselves in the Garden. But after midday was overpast, -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 upon <i>Pamphilus</i>, shee bad him begin the dayes -discourses, of happy successe in love, after disastrous and troublesome accidents; -who yeelding thereto with humble reverence, thus began.</p> - -<p>Many Novels (gracious Ladies) do offer themselves 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 above 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 Love are, deserving to bee both admired and reverenced. Albeit -there are many, who scarsely knowing what they say, do condemne them -with infinite grosse imputations: which I purpose to disprove, & (I hope) -to your no little pleasing.</p> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Chynon_by_falling_in_love_became_wise_and_by_force_of_Armes_winning_his" id="Chynon_by_falling_in_love_became_wise_and_by_force_of_Armes_winning_his">Chynon, <i>by falling in love, became wise, and by force of Armes, winning his -faire Lady</i> Iphigenia <i>on the Seas, was afterward imprisoned at</i> Rhodes. <i>Being -delivered by one named</i> Lysimachus, <i>with him he recovered his</i> Iphigenia -<i>againe, and faire</i> Cassandra, <i>even in the middest of their mariage. They -fled with them into</i> Candye, <i>where after they had married them, they were -called home to their owne dwelling.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The first Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is approved, that Love (oftentimes) maketh a man both wise and valiant.</i></h4> - - -<p>According to the ancient Annales of the <i>Cypriots</i>, there sometime lived -in <i>Cyprus</i>, a Noble Gentleman, who was commonly called <i>Aristippus</i>, -and exceeded all other of the Countrey in the goods of Fortune. -Divers children he had, but (amongst the rest) a Sonne, in whose birth he -was more infortunate then any of the rest; and continually greeved, in regard, -that having 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 judgement; being (indeed) -a meere Ideot or Foole, and no better hope to be expected of him. -His true name, according as he receyved it by Baptisme, was <i>Galesus</i>, but -because neyther by the labourious paines of his Tutors, indulgence, and -faire endeavour of his parents, or ingenuity of any other, he could bee -brought to civility of life, understanding of Letters, or common carriage -of a reasonable creature: by his grosse and deformed kinde of speech, his -qualities also savouring rather of brutish breeding, then any way derived -from manly education; as an epithite of scorne and derision, generally, -they gave him the name of <i>Chynon</i>, which in their native Countrey language, -and divers other beside, signifieth a very Sot or Foole, and so was -he termed by every one.</p> - -<p>This lost kinde of life in him, was no meane burthen of greefe unto his -Noble Father, and all hope being already spent, of any future happy recovery, -he gave command (because he would not alwayes have such a sorrow -in his sight) that he should live at a Farme of his owne in a Country -Village, among his Peazants and Plough-Swaines. Which was not any -way distastefull to <i>Chynon</i>, but well agreed with his owne naturall disposition; -for their rurall qualities, and grosse behaviour pleased him beyond -the Cities civility. <i>Chynon</i> living thus at his Fathers Countrey Village, -exercising nothing else but rurall demeanour, such as then delighted him -above all other: it chanced upon a day about the houre of noone, as hee -was walking over the fields, with a long Staffe on his necke, which commonly -he used 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 leaves fairely shot forth.</p> - -<p>When he had walked thorow the thicket, it came to passe, that (even -as if good Fortune guided him) he came into a faire Meadow, on everie -side engirt with Trees, and in one corner thereof stoode a goodly Fountaine, -whose current was both coole and cleare. Harde by it, uppon 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 unto her, of interwoven delicate silke, and at her feete lay two other -Damosels sleeping, and a servant in the same manner. No sooner hadde -<i>Chynon</i> fixed his eie upon her, but he stood leaning uppon his staffe, and -viewed her very advisedly, without speaking a word, and in no mean admiration, -as if he had never seene the forme of a woman before. He began -then to feele in his harsh rurall understanding (where into never till now, -either by painfull instruction, or all other good meanes used to him, any -honest civility 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 ever any living man beheld.</p> - -<p>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 (above all) her brests, appearing (as yet) but onely to shewe -themselves, like two little mountainets. So that, of a fielden clownish lout, -he would needs now become a judge of beauty, coveting earnestly in his -soule, to see her eyes, which were veiled over 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 judgement, she excelled -all the women that ever 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 conceive of divine and celestiall -things, and that they were more to be admired & reverenced, then those -of humane or terrene consideration; wherefore the more gladly he contented -himselfe, to tarry till she awaked of her owne accord. And althogh -the time of stay seemed tedious to him, yet notwithstanding, he was overcome -with such extraordinary contentment, as hee had no power to depart -thence, but stood as if he had bin glued fast to the ground.</p> - -<p>After some indifferent respite of time, it chanced that the young Damosel -(who was named <i>Iphigenia</i>) awaked before any of the other with -her, and lifting up her head, with her eyes wide open, shee saw <i>Chynon</i> -standing before her, leaning still on his staffe; whereat mervailing not a -little, she saide unto him: <i>Chynon</i>, whither wanderest thou, or what dost -thou seeke for in this wood? <i>Chynon</i>, 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 <i>Iphigenia</i>: but so soone as he beheld her eies open, -he began to observe them with a constant regard, as being perswaded in -his soule, that from them flowed such an unutterable singularity, as he had -never felt till 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 servant, and they all being risen, she saide. -Farewell <i>Chynon</i>, I leave 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 incivility from -him: yet could she not devise any way to be rid of him, till he had brought -her to her owne dwelling, where taking leave mannerly of her, hee went -directly home to his Fathers house, saying; Nothing should compel him -to live any longer in the muddy Countrey. And albeit his Father was -much offended heereat, and all the rest of his kindred and friends: (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.</p> - -<p><i>Chynon</i> being now wounded to the heart (where never any civil instruction -could before get entrance) with loves piercing dart, by the bright -beauty of <i>Iphigenia</i>, mooved 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 civill youths, observing also the carriage of Gentlemen, -especially such as were amorously enclined: he grew to a beginning -in short time (to the wonder of every one) not onely to understande the -first instruction of letters, but also became most skilfull, even amongest -them that were best exercised in Philosophie. And afterward, love to <i>Iphigenia</i> -being the sole occasion of this happy alteration, not only did his -harsh and clownish voyce convert 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 love, but hee became -generally knowne, to bee the most civil, wise, and worthy Gentleman, -as well for all vertues enriching the minde, as any whatsoever to -beautifie the body, that very hardly he could be equalled throughout the -whole kingdome of <i>Cyprus</i>.</p> - -<p>What shall we say then, (vertuous Ladies) concerning this <i>Chynon</i>? -Surely nothing else, but that those high and divine vertues, infused into -his gentle soule, were by envious Fortune bound and shut uppe in some -small angle of his intellect, which being shaken and set at liberty by love, -(as having a farre more potent power then Fortune, in quickning and reviving -the dull drowsie spirits); declared his mighty and soveraigne Authority, -in setting free so many faire and precious vertues unjustly detayned, -to let the worlds eye behold them truly, by manifest testimony, from -whence he can deliver those spirits subjected to his power, & guide them -(afterward) to the highest degrees of honour. And although <i>Chynon</i> by affecting -<i>Iphigenia</i>, failed in some particular things; yet notwithstanding, -his Father <i>Aristippus</i> duely considering, that love had made him a man, -whereas (before) he was no better then a beast: not only endured all patiently, -but also advised him therein, to take such courses as best liked -himselfe. Neverthelesse, <i>Chynon</i> (who refused to be called <i>Galesus</i>, which -was his naturall name indeede) remembring that <i>Iphigenia</i> tearmed him -<i>Chynon</i>, and coveting (under that title) to accomplish the issue of his honest -amorous desire: made many motions to <i>Ciphæus</i> the Father of <i>Iphigenia</i>, -that he would be pleased to let him enjoy her in marriage. But <i>Ciphæus</i> -told him, that he had already passed his promise for her, to a Gentleman -of <i>Rhodes</i>, named <i>Pasimondo</i>, which promise he religiously intended -to performe.</p> - -<p>The time being come, which was concluded on for <i>Iphigeniaes</i> marriage, -in regard that the affianced husband had sent for her: <i>Chynon</i> thus -communed with his owne thoughts. Now is the time (quoth he) to let -my divine 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 have her I will, or loose my life in the adventure. Beeing thus -resolved, he prevailed with divers young Gentlemen his friends, making -them of his faction, and secretly prepared a Shippe, furnished with all -things for a Navall fight, setting sodainly forth to sea, and hulling abroad -in those parts by which the vessell should passe, that must convey <i>Iphigenia</i> -to <i>Rhodes</i> to her husband. After many honours done to them, who were -to transport her thence unto <i>Rhodes</i>, being imbarked, they set saile uppon -their <i>Bon viaggio</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Chynon</i>, 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 <i>Iphigenia</i>, saying. Strike your -sayles, or else determine to be sunke in the Sea. The enemies to <i>Chynon</i>, -being nothing danted with his words, prepared to stand upon their own -defence; which made <i>Chynon</i>, after the former speeches delivered, 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 joyned 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 having -his sword ready drawne in his hand (incited by the vertue of unfaigned -love) layed about him on all sides very manfully. Which when the -men of <i>Rhodes</i> perceyved, calling downe their weapons, and all of them -(as it were) with one voice, yeelded themselves his prisoners: whereupon -he said.</p> - -<p>Honest Friends, neither desire of booty, or hatred to you, did occasion -my departure from <i>Cyprus</i>, thus to assaile you with drawne weapons: -but that which heereto hath most mooved me, is a matter highly importing -to me, and very easie for you to graunt, and so enjoy your present -peace. I desire to have faire <i>Iphigenia</i> from you, whom I love above all other -Ladies living, because I could not obtain her of her Father, to make -her my lawfull wife in marriage. Love is the ground of my instant Conquest, -and I must use you as my mortall enemies, if you stand uppon any -further tearmes with me, and do not deliver her as mine owne: for your -<i>Pasimondo</i>, must not enjoy what is my right, first by vertue of my love, & -now by conquest: Deliver her therefore, and depart hence at your pleasure.</p> - -<p>The men of <i>Rhodes</i>, being rather constrained thereto, then of any free -disposition in themselves; with teares in their eyes, delivered <i>Iphigenia</i> to -<i>Chynon</i>; who beholding her in like manner to weepe, thus spake unto her. -Noble Lady, do not any way discomfort your selfe, for I am your <i>Chynon</i>, -who have more right and true title to you, and much better doe deserve -to enjoy you, by my long continued affection to you, then <i>Pasimondo</i> -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 -gave her kinde welcome, without touching any thing else belonging -to the Rhodians, he gave them free liberty to depart.</p> - -<p><i>Chynon</i> being more joyfull, 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 <i>Iphigenia</i>, who as yet sate sadly sighing; he consulted -with his companions, who joyned with him in opinion, that their -safest course was, by no meanes to returne to <i>Cyprus</i>; and therefore all -(with one consent) resolved to set saile for <i>Candye</i>, where every one made -account, but especially <i>Chynon</i>, 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 <i>Iphigenia</i>. But Fortune, who -was so favourable to <i>Chynon</i>, in granting him so pleasing a Conquest, to -shew her inconstancy, as sodainly changed the inestimable joy of our jocond -Lover, into as heavy sorrow and disaster. For, foure houres were -not fully compleated, since his departure from the Rhodians, but darke -night came upon them, and he sitting conversing 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 unexpected distresse, nor how -to warrant themselves from perishing.</p> - -<p>If this accident were displeasing to poore <i>Chynon</i>, 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 love and life together. His friends likewise, felte -the selfesame affliction, but especially <i>Iphigenia</i>, who wept and greeved -beyond all measure, to see the ship beaten, with such stormy billowes, as -threatned her sinking every minute. Impatiently she cursed the love of -<i>Chynon</i>, greatly blaming his desperate boldnesse, and maintaining, that so -violent a tempest could never happen, but onely by the Gods displeasure, -who would not permit him to have a wife against their will; and therefore -thus punished his proud presumption, not only in his unavoidable death, -but also that her life must perish for company.</p> - -<p>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 every moment they expected wracking: they were carried -(contrary to their owne knowledge) very neere unto the Isle of <i>Rhodes</i>, -which they being no way able to avoid, and utterly ignorant of the coast; -for safety of their lives, they laboured to land there if possibly they might. -Wherein Fortune was somewhat furtherous to them, driving them into -a small gulfe of the Sea, whereinto (but a little while before) the Rhodians, -from whom <i>Chynon</i> 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 heavens to looke more clearly) gave them discoverie, -of being within a flight shoote together. <i>Chynon</i> looking forth, and espying -the same ship which he had left the day before, hee grew exceeding -sorrowfull, as fearing that which after followed, and therefore hee willed -the Mariners, to get away from her by all their best endeavour, & let fortune -afterward dispose of them as she pleased; for into a worse place they -could not come, nor fall into the like danger.</p> - -<p>The Mariners employed their very utmost paines, and all prooved but -losse of time: for the winde was so stern, and the waves so turbulent, that -still they drove them the contrary way: so that striving to get foorth of -the gulfe, whether they would or no, they were driven on land, and instantly -knowne to the Rhodians, whereof they were not a little joyful. The -men of <i>Rhodes</i> being landed, ran presently to a neere neighbouring Village, -where dwelt divers worthy Gentlemen, to whom they reported the -arrivall of <i>Chynon</i>, what fortune befell them at Sea, and that <i>Iphigenia</i> -might now be recovered againe, with chastisement to <i>Chynon</i> for his bold -insolence. They being very joyfull of these good newes, tooke so many -men as they could of the same Village, and ran immediately to the Sea -side, where <i>Chynon</i> being newly Landed and his people, intending flight -into a neere adjoining Forrest, for defence of himselfe and <i>Iphigenia</i>, they -were all taken, led thence to the Village, and afterwards to the chiefe City -of <i>Rhodes</i>.</p> - -<p>No sooner were they arrived, but <i>Pasimondo</i>, the intended Husband -for <i>Iphigenia</i> (who had already heard the tydings) went and complayned -to the Senate, who appointed a Gentleman of <i>Rhodes</i>, named <i>Lysimachus</i>, -and being that yeare soveraigne Magistrate over the Rhodians, to go well -provided for the apprehension of <i>Chinon</i> and all his company, committing -them to prison, which accordingly was done. In this manner, the -poore unfortunate lover <i>Chynon</i>, lost his faire <i>Iphigenia</i>, having won her -in so short a while before, and scarsely requited with so much as a kisse. -But as for <i>Iphigenia</i>, she was royally welcommed by many Lords and Ladies -of <i>Rhodes</i>, 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, untill the day determined for her mariage.</p> - -<p>At the earnest entreaty of divers Rhodian Gentlemen, who were in -the Ship with <i>Iphigenia</i>, and had their lives courteously saved by <i>Chynon</i>: -both he and his friends had their lives likewise spared, although <i>Pasimondo</i> -laboured importunately, to have them all put to death; onely they -were condemned to perpetuall imprisonment, which (you must thinke) -was most greevous to them, as being now hopelesse of any deliverance. -But in the meane time, while <i>Pasimondo</i> was ordering his nuptiall preparation, -Fortune seeming to repent the wrongs shee had done to <i>Chynon</i>, -prepared a new accident, whereby to comfort him in this deep distresse, -and in such manner as I will relate unto you.</p> - -<p><i>Pasimondo</i> had a Brother, yonger then he in yeares, but not a jot inferiour -to him in vertue, whose name was <i>Hormisda</i>, and long time the case -had bene in question, for his taking to wife a faire yong Gentlewoman of -<i>Rhodes</i>, called <i>Cassandra</i>; whom <i>Lysimachus</i> the Governour loved verie -dearly, and hindred her marriage with <i>Hormisda</i>, by divers strange accidents. -Now <i>Pasimondo</i> perceiving, that his owne Nuptials required much -cost and solemnity, hee thought it very convenient, that one day might -serve for both the Weddinges, which else would lanch into more lavish -expences, and therefore concluded, that his brother <i>Hormisda</i> should -marry <i>Cassandra</i>, at the same time as he wedded <i>Iphigenia</i>. 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.</p> - -<p>When this came to the hearing of <i>Lysimachus</i>, it was very greatly displeasing -to him, because now he saw himselfe utterly deprived of al hope -to attaine the issue of his desire, if <i>Hormisda</i> receyved <i>Cassandra</i> 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 giving such an unfitting example. Neverthelesse, after -long deliberation, honour gave way to love, and resolutely he concluded -to steale her away, whatsoever became of it.</p> - -<p>Nothing wanted now, but a convenient company to assist him, & the -order how to have it done. Then he remembred <i>Chynon</i> and his friends, -whom he detained as his prisoners, and perswaded himself, that he could -not have a more faithfull friend in such a business, then <i>Chynon</i> was. Hereupon, -the night following, he sent for him into his Chamber, and being -alone by themselves, thus he began. <i>Chynon</i> (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 have 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.</p> - -<p>For first of all (as I have heard) by the piercing solicitudes of love, of a -senselesse creature, they made thee to become a man endued with reason. -Afterward, by adverse 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 -enjoyedst 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 never give -thee any blessing more worthy of acceptance, then she whom 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 -ever heretofore, I will acquaint thee withall more at large.</p> - -<p>Understand then Noble <i>Chynon</i>, that <i>Pasimondo</i>, the onely glad man -of thy misfortune, and diligent sutor after thy death, maketh all hast hee -can possibly devise 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 love bee -such, as I am perswaded it is) I partly can collect from my selfe, being intended -to be wronged by his brother <i>Hormisda</i>, even in the selfsame manner, -and on his marriage day, by taking faire <i>Cassandra</i> from me, the onely -Jewell of my love and life. For the prevention of two such notorious -injuries, I see that Fortune hath left us no other meanes, but only the vertue -of our courages, and the helpe of our right hands, by preparing our -selves to Armes, opening a way to thee, by a second rape or stealth; and -to me the first, for absolute possession of our divine Mistresses. Wherefore, -if thou art desirous to recover thy losse, I will not onely pronounce -liberty to thee (which I thinke thou dost little care for without her) but -dare also assure thee to enjoy <i>Iphigenia</i>, so thou wilt assist mee in mine enterprize, -and follow me in my fortune, if the Gods do let them fall into -our power.</p> - -<p>You may well imagine, that <i>Chynons</i> dismayed soule was not a little -cheared at these speeches; and therefore, without craving any long respit -of time for answer, thus he replyed. Lord <i>Lysimachus</i>, in such a business -as this is, you cannot have a faster friend then my self, at least, if such good -hap may betide me, as you have more then halfe promised: & therefore -do no more but command what you would have to be effected by mee, -and make no doubt of my courage in the execution: whereon <i>Lysimachus</i> -made this answer. Know then <i>Chynon</i> (quoth hee) that three dayes -hence, these marriages are to bee celebrated in the houses of <i>Pasimondo</i> -and <i>Hormisda</i>, upon which day, thou, thy friends, and my self (with some -others, in whom I repose especiall trust) by the friendly favour of night, -will enter into their houses, while they are in the middest of theyr Joviall -feasting; and (seizing on the two Brides) beare them thence to a Shippe, -which I will have lye in secret, waiting for our comming, and kil all such -as shall presume to impeach us. This direction gave great contentment -to <i>Chynon</i>, who remained still in prison, without revealing a word to his -owne friends, until the limited time was come.</p> - -<p>Upon the Wedding day, performed with great and magnificent Triumph, -there was not a corner in the Brethrens houses, but it sung joy in -the highest key. <i>Lysimachus</i>, after he had ordered all things as they ought -to be, and the houre for dispatch approached neere; he made a division -in three parts, of <i>Chynon</i>, his followers, and his owne friendes, being all -well armed under their outward habites. Having first used 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 urgent necessity should require it. Passing -with the other two traines of <i>Pasimondo</i>, he left the one at the doore, that -such as were in the house might not shut them up fast, and so impeach -their passage forth. Then with <i>Chynon</i>, and the third band of Confederates, -he ascended the staires up 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, delivered them -into the hands of their followers, commanding that they should be carried -aboord the ship, for avoiding of further inconveniences.</p> - -<p>This hurrie and amazement beeing in the house, the Brides weeping, -the Ladies lamenting, and all the servants confusedly wondering; <i>Chynon</i> -and <i>Lysimachus</i> (with their Friends) having their weapons drawn in their -hands, made all opposers to give them way, and so gayned the stair head -for their owne descending. There stoode <i>Pasimondo</i>, with an huge long -Staffe in his hand, to hinder their passage downe the stayres; but <i>Chynon</i> -saluted him so soundly on the head, that it being cleft in twaine, hee -fell dead before his feete. His Brother <i>Hormisda</i> came to his rescue, and -sped in the selfe-same manner as he had done; so did divers other beside, -whom the companions to <i>Lysimachus</i> and <i>Chynon</i>, either slew out-right, -or wounded.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Candye</i>. Where beeing arrived, they -were worthily entertained by honourable Friendes and Kinsmen, who -pacified all unkindnesses betweene them and their Mistresses: And, having -accepted them in lawfull marriage, there they lived in no meane -joy and contentment: albeit there was a long and troublesome difference -(about these rapes) betweene <i>Rhodes</i> and <i>Cyprus</i>.</p> - -<p>But yet in the end, by the meanes of Noble Friends and Kindred on -either side, labouring to have such discontentment appeased, endangering -warre betweene the Kingdomes: after a limited time of banishment, -<i>Chynon</i> returned joyfully with his <i>Iphigenia</i> home to <i>Cyprus</i>, and <i>Lysimachus</i> -with his beloved <i>Cassandra</i> unto <i>Rhodes</i>, each living in their severall -Countries, with much felicity.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Faire_Constance_of_Liparis_fell_in_love_with_Martuccio_Gomito_and_hearing" id="Faire_Constance_of_Liparis_fell_in_love_with_Martuccio_Gomito_and_hearing"><i>Faire</i> Constance <i>of</i> Liparis, <i>fell in love with</i> Martuccio Gomito: <i>and hearing -that he was dead, desperately she entred into a Barke, which being transported -by the windes to</i> Susa <i>in</i> Barbary, <i>from thence she went to</i> Thunis, -<i>where she found him to be living. There she made her selfe knowne to him, -and he being in great authority, as a privy Counsellor to the King: he married -the saide</i> Constance, <i>and returned richly home with her, to the Island of</i> -Liparis.</a></h4> - -<h2>The second Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is declared the firme loyaltie of a true Lover: And how Fortune doth -sometime humble men, to raise them afterward to a farre higher degree.</i></h4> - - -<p>When the Queene perceyved, that the Novell recited by <i>Pamphilus</i> -was concluded, which she graced with especial commendations: -she commaunded Madame <i>Æmillia</i>, to take her turne as next in order; -whereupon, thus she began. Me thinkes it is a matter of equity, that every -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 scrupulous affectation, I shall the more gladly obey our Queen to -day, then yesterday I did our melancholly King.</p> - -<p>Understand then (Noble Ladies) that neere to <i>Sicily</i>, there is a small -Island, commonly called <i>Liparis</i>, wherein (not long since) lived a yong -Damosell, named <i>Constance</i>, born of very sufficient parentage in the same -Island. There dwelt also a young man, called <i>Martuccio Gomito</i>, of comely -feature, well conditioned, and not unexpert in many vertuous qualities; -affecting <i>Constance</i> in hearty manner: and she so answerable to him -in the same kinde, that to be in his company, was her onely felicity. <i>Martuccio</i> -coveting to enjoy her in marriage, made his intent knowne to her -Father: who upbraiding him with poverty, tolde him plainly that hee -should not have her. <i>Martuccio</i> greeving to see himselfe thus despised, -because he was poore: made such good meanes, that he was provided of -a small Barke; and calling such friends (as he thought fit) to his association, -made a solemne vow, that hee would never returne backe to <i>Liparis</i>, -untill he was rich, and in better condition.</p> - -<p>In the nature and course of a Rover or Pirate, so put he thence to sea, -coasting all about <i>Barbarie</i>, robbing and spoyling such as hee met with; -who were of no greater strength then himselfe: wherein Fortune was so -favourable 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 -themselves with sufficient riches: by greedy seeking to get more, -happened to be taken by certaine ships of the Sarazins, and so were robbed -themselves of all that they had gotten, yet they resisted them stoutly -a long while together, though it proved to the losse of many lives among -them. When the Sarazens had sunke his shippe in the Sea, they tooke -him with them to <i>Thunis</i>, where he was imprisoned, and lived in extreamest -misery.</p> - -<p>Newes came to <i>Liparis</i>, not onely by one, but many more beside, that -all those which departed thence in the small Barke with <i>Martuccio</i> were -drowned in the Sea, and not a man escaped. When <i>Constance</i> heard these -unwelcome tydings (who was exceeding full of greefe, for his so desperate -departure) she wept and lamented extraordinarily, desiring now rather -to dye, then live 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 privately from her Fathers house, shee went -to the port or haven, 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 resolved -with her selfe, that the Boat being uncharged, and without a guide, wold -either be over-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.</p> - -<p>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 jot, they conducted the small Boat in such -sort, that after the night of her entering into it, and the morowes sailing -untill the evening, it came within an hundred leagues of <i>Thunis</i>, and to a -strond neere a Towne called <i>Susa</i>. The young Damosell knew not whether -she were on the sea or land; as one, who not by any accident hapning, -lifted up her head to look about her, neither intended ever to doe. -Now it came to passe, that as the boate was driven to the shore, a poore -woman stood at the Sea side, washing certaine Fishermens Nets; and seeing -the boate comming towards her under 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 sorrowes having broght her now into a sound -sleepe, the woman gave many cals before she could awake her, which at -the length she did, and looked very strangely about her.</p> - -<p>The poore woman perceyving 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 arrive there in this manner? When <i>Constance</i> -heard her speake the Latine tongue, she began to doubt, least some contrary -winde had turned her backe to <i>Liparis</i> againe, and starting up sodainly, -to looke with better advice 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 <i>Susa</i> in <i>Barbarie</i>. -Which <i>Constance</i> hearing, and plainly perceyving, that death had denied -to end her miseries, fearing least she should receive some dishonour, -in such a barbarous unkinde Country, and not knowing what shold now -become of her, she sate downe by the boates side, wringing her hands, & -weeping bitterly.</p> - -<p>The good Woman did greatly compassionate her case, and prevailed -so well by gentle speeches, that shee conducted her into her owne poore -habitation; where at length she understoode, by what meanes shee hapned -thither so strangely. And perceyving 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.</p> - -<p><i>Constance</i> 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 <i>Trapanum</i>, named <i>Carapresa</i>, and am a servant -in this Countrey to certaine Christian Fishermen. The yong Maiden -(albeit she was very full of sorrow) hearing her name to be <i>Carapresa</i>, -conceived it as a good augury to her selfe, & that she had heard the name -before, although shee knew not what occasion should move her thus to -do. Now began her hopes to quicken againe, and yet shee could not tell -upon 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 (even for charities -sake) to take pitty on her youth, and help her with such good advice, -to prevent all injuries which might happen to her, in such a solitary wofull -condition.</p> - -<p><i>Carapresa</i> having heard her request, like a good woman as shee was, -left <i>Constance</i> in her poore Cottage, and went hastily to leave her nets in -safety: which being done, she returned backe againe, and covering <i>Constance</i> -with her Mantle, led her on to <i>Susa</i> with her, where being arrived, -the good woman began in this manner. <i>Constance</i>, I will bring thee to -the house of a very worthy Sarazin Lady, to whome I have done manie -honest services, 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 use -thee as if thou wert her owne daughter. Now, let it be thy part, during -thy time of remaining with her, to employ thy utmost diligence in pleasing -her, by deserving and gaining her grace, till heaven shall blesse thee -with better fortune: And as she promised, so she performed.</p> - -<p>The Sarazine Lady, being well stept into yeares, upon the commendable -speeches delivered by <i>Carapresa</i>, did the more seriously fasten her -eye on <i>Constance</i>, and compassion provoking her to teares, she tooke her -by the hand, and (in loving manner) kissed her fore-head. So she led her -further into her house, where dwelt divers other women (but not one -man) all exercising themselves in severall labours, as working in all sorts -of silke, with Imbroideries of Gold and Silver, and sundry other excellent -Arts beside, which in short time were verie familiar to <i>Constance</i>, and so -pleasing grew her behaviour to the old Lady, and all the rest beside; that -they loved 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.</p> - -<p><i>Constance</i> continuing thus in the old Ladies service at <i>Susa</i>, & thought -to be dead or lost in her owne Fathers house; it fortuned, that one reigning -then as King of <i>Thunis</i>, who named himselfe <i>Mariabdela</i>: there was -a young Lord of great birth, and very powerfull, who lived as then in -<i>Granada</i>, and pleaded that the Kingdome of <i>Thunis</i> 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 -<i>Martuccio Gomito</i>, who spake the Barbarian Language perfectly; and hearing -it reported, that the King of <i>Thunis</i> 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 -have 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 -honour of the field. The Guard reported these speeches to his master, who -presently acquainted the King therewith, and <i>Martuccio</i> being sent for; -he was commanded to speake his minde: Whereupon he began in this -manner.</p> - -<p>My gracious Lord, during the time that I have frequented your countrey, -I have heedfully observed, that the Militarie Discipline used in your -fights and battailes, dependeth more upon 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 give great hope of successefull prevailing. -Sir, said <i>Martuccio</i>, if you please it may bee done, and I can quickly -resolve you how. Let the strings of your Archers Bowes bee made more -soft and gentle, then those which heretofore they have formerly used; and -next, let the nockes of the Arrowes be so provided, as not to receive any -other, then those pliant gentle strings. But this must be done so secretly, -that your enemies may have no knowledge thereof, least they should provide -themselves in the same manner. Now the reason (Gracious Lord) -why thus I counsell you, is to this end. When the Archers on the Enemies -side have shot their Arrowes at your men, and yours in the like manner -at them: it followeth, that (upon meere constraint) they must gather -up your Arrowes, to shoote them backe againe at you, for so long while -as the battell endureth, as no doubt but your men will do the like to them. -But your enemies will finde themselves much deceived, because they can -make no use of your peoples Arrowes, in regard that the nockes are too -narrow to receive 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 have free use of both, reserving them in plentifull store, when your -adversaries must stand unfurnished of any, but them that they cannot any -way use.</p> - -<p>This counsell pleased the King very highly, and hee being a Prince of -great understanding, gave order to have it accordingly followed, and -thereby valiantly vanquished his enemies. Heereupon, <i>Martuccio</i> 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 honour of the man by whome they hapned: even so the -fame of this rare got victory, was quickly noysed throughout the Countrey, -and came to the hearing of poore <i>Constance</i>, that <i>Martuccio Gomito</i> -(whom she supposed so long since to be dead) was living, and in honourable -condition. The love which formerly she bare unto 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) revived againe in chearfull manner.</p> - -<p>Having 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 <i>Thunis</i>, -to satisfie her eyes as well as her eares, concerning the rumor blazed -abroad. The good olde Lady commended her desire, and (even as if she -had bene her mother) tooke her with her aboord a Barke, and so sayled -thence to <i>Thunis</i>, where both she and <i>Constance</i> found honourable welcome, -in the house of a kinsman to the Sarazin Lady. <i>Carapresa</i> also went -along with them thither, and her they sent abroad into the Citie, to understand -the newes of <i>Martuccio Gomito</i>. After they knew for a certaintie -that hee was living, and in great authority about the King, according as -the former report went of him. Then the good old Lady, being desirous -to let <i>Martuccio</i> know, that his faire friend <i>Constance</i> was come thither to -see him; went her selfe to the place of his abiding, and spake unto him in -this manner. Noble <i>Martuccio</i>, there is a servant of thine in my house, -which came from <i>Liparis</i>, and requireth to have a little private 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. <i>Martuccio</i> -gave her kinde and hearty thankes, and then went along with her to the -house.</p> - -<p>No sooner did <i>Constance</i> behold him, but shee was ready to dye with -conceite of joy, and being unable 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 utter -one word) the teares trickled abundantly downe her cheekes. <i>Martuccio</i> -also seeing his faire friend, was overcome with exceeding admiration, & -stood awhile, as not knowing what to say; till venting forth a vehement -sighe, thus he spake. My deerest love <i>Constance</i>! art thou yet living? It is -a tedious long while since I heard thou wast lost, and never any tydinges -knowne of thee in thine owne Fathers house. With which wordes, the -teares standing his eyes, most lovingly he embraced her. <i>Constance</i> recounted -to him all her fortunes, and what kindnesse she hadde receyved -from the Sarazine Lady, since her first houre of comming to her. And -after much other discourse passing betweene them, <i>Martuccio</i> departed -from her, and returning to the King his master, tolde him all the historie -of his fortunes, and those beside of his Love <i>Constance</i>, beeing purposely -minded (with his gracious liking) to marry her according to the Christian -Law.</p> - -<p>The King was much amazed at so many strange accidents, and sending -for <i>Constance</i> to come before him; from her own mouth he heard the -whole relation of her continued affection to <i>Martuccio</i>, whereuppon hee -saide. Now trust me faire Damosell, thou hast dearly deserved him to be -thy husband. Then sending for very costly Jewels, and rich presents, the -one halfe of them he gave to her, and the other to <i>Martuccio</i>, graunting -them license withall, to marry according to their owne mindes.</p> - -<p><i>Martuccio</i> did many honours, and gave great giftes to the aged Sarazine -Lady, with whom <i>Constance</i> had lived so kindly respected: which although -she had no neede of, neither ever expected any such rewarding; -yet (conquered by their urgent importunity, especially <i>Constance</i>, who -could not be thankfull enough to her) she was enforced to receive them, -and taking her leave of them weeping, sayled backe againe to <i>Susa</i>.</p> - -<p>Within a short while after, the King licensing their departure thence, -they entred into a small Barke, and <i>Carapresa</i> with them, sailing on with -prosperous gales of winde, untill they arrived at <i>Liparis</i>, where they were -entertained with generall rejoycing. And because their marriage was -not sufficiently performed at <i>Thunis</i>, in regard of divers Christian ceremonies -there wanting, their Nuptials were againe most honourably solemnized, -and they lived (many yeares after) in health and much happinesse.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Pedro_Bocamazzo_escaping_away_with_a_yong_Damosell_which_he_loved_named" id="Pedro_Bocamazzo_escaping_away_with_a_yong_Damosell_which_he_loved_named">Pedro Bocamazzo, <i>escaping away with a yong Damosell which he loved, named</i> -Angelina, <i>met with Theeves in his journey. The Damosell flying fearfully -into a Forrest, by chance arriveth at a Castle.</i> Pedro <i>being taken by the -Theeves, and happening afterward to escape from them; commeth (accidentally) -to the same Castle where</i> Angelina <i>was. And marrying her, they then -returned home to Rome.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The third Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein, the severall powers both of Love and Fortune, is more at large approved.</i></h4> - - -<p>There was not any one in the whole company, but much commended -the Novell reported by Madam <i>Emillia</i>, and when the Queene -perceived it was ended, she turned towards Madam <i>Eliza</i>, commanding -her to continue on their delightfull exercise: whereto shee declaring her -willing obedience, began to speak thus. Courteous Ladies, I remember -one unfortunate night, which happened to two Lovers, 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.</p> - -<p>In the Citie of <i>Rome</i>, 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 <i>Pedro Bocamazzo</i>, descended -from one of the most honourable families in <i>Rome</i>, who was much -enamoured of a beautifull Gentlewoman, called <i>Angelina</i>, daughter to -one named <i>Giglivozzo Saullo</i>, whose fortunes were none of the fairest, yet -he greatly esteemed among the Romaines. The entercourse of love between -these twaine, had so equally enstructed their hearts and souls, that -it could hardly be judged which of them was the more fervent in affection. -But he, not being inured 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 enjoy her in honourable mariage. -Which his parents and friends hearing, they went to conferre with him, -blaming him with over-much basenesse, so farre to disgrace himselfe and -his stocke. Beside, they advised the Father to the Maid, neither to credit -what <i>Pedro</i> saide in this case, or to live in hope of any such match, because -they all did wholly despise it.</p> - -<p><i>Pedro</i> perceiving, that the way was shut up, whereby (and none other) -he was to mount the Ladder of his hopes; began to waxe weary of longer -living: and if he could have won her fathers consent, he would have maried -her in the despight of all his friends. Neverthelesse, 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 understood her ready resolution, to -adventure with him thorough all fortunes whatsoever, concluding on -their sodaine and secret flight from Rome. For which <i>Pedro</i> did so well -provide, that very early in a morning, and well mounted on horsebacke, -they tooke the way leading unto <i>Alagna</i>, where <i>Pedro</i> had some honest -friends, in whom he reposed especiall trust. Riding on thus thorow the -countrey, having no leysure to accomplish their marriage, because they -stoode in feare of pursuite: they were ridden above foure leagues from -Rome, still shortning the way with their amorous discoursing.</p> - -<p>It fortuned, that <i>Pedro</i> having 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 twelve Villaines, whom <i>Angelina</i> sooner espyed, -then <i>Pedro</i> could do, which made her cry out to him, saying: Help -deere Love to save us, or else we shall be assayled. <i>Pedro</i> then turning his -horse so expeditiously as he could, and giving him the spurres as neede required; -mainly he gallopped into a neere adjoining Forrest, more minding -the following of <i>Angelina</i>, then any direction of his way, or then that -endeavoured to be his hinderance. So that by often winding & turning -about, as the passage appeared troublesome 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 resolving them therein, they -fell into a secret consultation, saying thus among themselves. This man -is a friend to our deadly enemies, how can wee then otherwise dispose of -him, but bereave him of all he hath, and in despight of the <i>Orsini</i> (men in -nature hatefull to us) hang him up heere on one of these Trees?</p> - -<p>All of them agreeing in this dismall resolution, they commanded <i>Pedro</i> -to put off his garments, which he yeelding to do (albeit unwillingly) -it so fell out, that five and twenty other theeves, came sodainly rushing in -upon them, crying, Kill, kill, and spare not a man.</p> - -<p>They which before had surprized <i>Pedro</i>, desiring nowe to shifte -for their owne safetie; left him standing quaking in his shirt, and so -ranne away mainely to defend themselves. Which the new crewe -perceyving, 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 <i>Pedro</i> perceyved, and saw none -tarrying to prey uppon him; hee put on his cloathes againe, and mounting -on his owne Horsse, gallopped that way, which <i>Angelina</i> 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.</p> - -<p>For the losse of his beloved <i>Angelina</i>, 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 travailed still, not knowing -where to make his arrivall. And having formerly heard of savage -ravenous beasts, which commonly live in such unfrequented Forrests: he -not onely was in feare of loosing his owne life, but also despayred much -for his <i>Angelina</i>, least some Lyon or Woolfe, had torne her body in peeces.</p> - -<p>Thus rode on poore unfortunate <i>Pedro</i>, untill 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, untill 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 uppon him, hee was not able to hold out any -longer.</p> - -<p>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 unto a -great tree, uppe he climbed into the same Tree, fearing to bee devoured -(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 cleare: yet durst hee not nod, or take a -nap, lest he should fall out of the tree; but sate still greeving, sighing, and -mourning, despairing of ever seeing his <i>Angelina</i> 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.</p> - -<p>Now, concerning poore affrighted <i>Angelina</i>, who (as you heard before) -knew not any place of refuge to flye unto: but even as it pleased hir -horse to carry her: she entred so farre into the Forest, that she could not -devise where to seeke her owne safety. And therefore, even as it fared -with her friend <i>Pedro</i>, 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 greevously complaining of her hard fortune. At the length, perceyving -that <i>Pedro</i> came not to her at all, she found a little path (which shee -lighted on by great good fortune) even when dark night was apace drawing, -and followed it so long, till it brought her within the sight of a small -poore Cottage, whereto she rode on so fast as she could; and found therein -a very old man, having a wife rather more aged then he, who seeing hir -to be without company, the old man spake thus unto her.</p> - -<p>Faire daughter (quoth he) whether wander you at such an unseasonable -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 <i>Alagna</i>. Daughter (answered the old man) this is not -the way to <i>Alagna</i>, for it is above sixe leagues hence. Then shee desired -to knowe, how farre off shee was from such houses, where she might have -any reasonable lodging? There are none so neere, said the old man, that -day light will give you leave to reach. May it please you then good Father -(replied <i>Angelina</i>) seeing I cannot travaile any whether else; For -Gods sake, to let me remaine heere with you this night. Daughter answered -the good old man, wee can gladly give you entertainement here, for -this night, in such poore manner as you see: but let mee tell you withall, -that up and downe these wooddes (as well by night as day) walke companies -of all conditions, and rather enimies then friends, who doe us many -greevious displeasures and harmes. Now if by misfortune, you beeing -heere, any such people should come, and seeing you so loovely faire, as -indeed you are, offer you any shame or injurie: 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 us.</p> - -<p>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 will of -heaven, both you and I shall be defended from any misfortune: but if any -such mischance do happen, I account the matter lesse deserving grief, -if I fall into the mercy of men, then to be devoured 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 provision 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 divided from her deare <i>Pedro</i>, of whose -life and welfare she greatly despaired.</p> - -<p>When it was almost day, she heard a great noise of people travailing -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 travelling -strangers might not readily finde her there in the house. Scarsely was she -fully hidden, but a great company of Theeves 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 gave him house-roome -heere, rather then to be devoured by Wolves abroad. Then said -the principall of the Theevish crew; This horse shall be ours, in regard he -hath no other master, and let the owner come claime him of us.</p> - -<p>When they had searched every 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 Javelins and Targets, wherewith they used commonly -to travaile. It fortuned, that one of them, being more subtily suspitious -then the rest, thrust his Javeline 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 theeving exercise, -taking the Damosels horse along with them.</p> - -<p>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 us yesternight? I have 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. <i>Angelinaes</i> feares being -well over-blowne, and hearing none of the former noise, which made -her the better hope of their departure, came forth of the Hay-stack; whereof -the good old man was not a little joyfull, and because she had so well -escaped from them: so seeing it was now broad day-light, he sayde unto -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 travaile thither on foote, because the night-walkers that happened -hither, have taken away your horse with them.</p> - -<p><i>Angelina</i> making little or no account of such a losse, entreated them for -charities sake, to conduct her to that Castle, which accordingly they did, -and arrived there betweene seven and eight of the clocke. The Castle belonged -to one of the <i>Orsini</i>, being called, <i>Liello di Campo di Fiore</i>, and by -great good fortune, his wife was then there, she being a very vertuous and -religious Lady. No sooner did shee looke upon <i>Angelina</i>, but shee knew -her immediately, and entertaining her very willingly, requested, to know -the reason of her thus arriving there: which shee at large related, and moved -the Lady (who likewise knew <i>Pedro</i> perfectly well) to much compassion, -because he was a kinsman and deare friend to her Husband; and understanding -how the Theeves had surprized him, shee feared, that he was -slaine among them, whereupon shee spake thus to <i>Angelina</i>. Seeing you -know not what is become of my kinsman <i>Pedro</i>, you shall remaine here -with me, untill such time, as (if we heare no other tidings of him) you may -with safety be sent backe to <i>Rome</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Pedro</i> all this while sitting in the Tree, so full of griefe, as no man could -be more; about the houre of midnight (by the bright splendour of the -Moone) espied about some twenty Wolves, who, so soone as they got a -sight of the Horse, ran and engirt him round about. The Horse when he -perceived 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 every side, and utterly unable 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 jot of him -but the bare bones, and afterward ran ranging thorow the Forrest. At this -sight, poore <i>Pedro</i> was mightily dismayed, fearing to speed no better then -his Horse had done, and therefore could not devise 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, having -stood quaking so long in the Tree; at length by continuall looking every -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.</p> - -<p>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 arrived, 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 releeve himselfe. The Shepheards told him, that about a mile and -an halfe from thence, was the Castle of <i>Signior Liello di Campo di Fiore</i>, and -that his Lady was now residing there; which was no meane comfort to -poore <i>Pedro</i>, requesting that one of them would accompany him thither, -as two of them did in loving manner, to ridde him of all further feares.</p> - -<p>When he was arrived at the Castle, and found there divers 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 joy, for never could any man be more comforted, -then he was at the sight of his <i>Angelina</i>, and questionlesse, her joy was -not a jot inferiour to his, such a simpathy of firme love was sealed between -them. The Lady of the Castle, after shee had given them very gracious -entertainement, and understood the scope of their bold adventure; shee -reproved them both somewhat sharpely, for presuming so farre without -the consent of their Parents. But perceiving (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 offensive to me? They love each other loyally; -they are not inferiour to one another in birth, but in fortune; they are -equally loved and allied to my Husband, and their desire is both honest -and honourable. Moreover, what know I, if it be the will of Heaven to -have it so? Theeves 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 Javeline, and yet her fairer starres would not -suffer her so to perish: beside, they both have escaped the fury of ravenous -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 Heavens.</p> - -<p>Then turning her selfe to them, thus shee proceeded. If your desire be -to joyne 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 endeavour, to make peace between you and your -discontented Parents. <i>Pedro</i> was not a little joyfull at her kind offer, and -<i>Angelina</i> much more then he; so they were maried together in the Castle, -and worthily feasted by the Lady, as Forrest entertainment could permit, -and there they enjoyed the first fruits of their love. Within a short while -after, the Lady and they (well mounted on Horse-backe, and attended -with an honourable traine) returned to <i>Rome</i>; where her Lord <i>Liello</i> and -shee prevailed so wel with <i>Pedroes</i> angry Parents: that all variance ended -in love and peace, and afterward they lived lovingly together, till old age -made them as honourable, as their true and mutuall affection formerly -had done.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Ricciardo_Manardy_was_found_by_Messer_Lizio_da_Valbonna_as_he_sate_fast" id="Ricciardo_Manardy_was_found_by_Messer_Lizio_da_Valbonna_as_he_sate_fast">Ricciardo Manardy, <i>was found by</i> Messer Lizio da Valbonna, <i>as he sate fast -asleepe at his Daughters Chamber window, having his hand fast in hers, and -shee sleeping in the same manner. Whereupon, they were joyned together in -marriage, and their long loyall love mutually recompenced.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The fourth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Declaring the discreete providence of Parents, in care of their Childrens love -and their owne credit, to cut off inconveniences, before they doe proceede too -farre.</i></h4> - - -<p>Madam <i>Eliza</i> having ended her Tale, and heard what commendations -the whole company gave thereof; the Queene commanded <i>Philostratus</i>, -to tell a Novell agreeing with his owne minde, who smiling -thereat, thus replyed. Faire Ladies, I have beene so often checkt & snapt, -for my yester dayes matter and argument of discoursing, which was both -tedious and offensive to you; that if I intended to make you any amends, -I should now undertake 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 Novell, not any way offensive (as I trust) but exemplary for some -good notes of observation.</p> - -<p>Not long since, there lived in <i>Romania</i>, a Knight, a very honest Gentleman, -and well qualified, whose name was <i>Messer Lizio da Valbonna</i>, to -whom it fortuned, that (at his entrance into age) by his Lady and wife, -called <i>Jaquemina</i>, he had a Daughter, the very choycest and goodliest gentlewoman -in all those parts. Now because such a happy blessing (in their -olde yeeres) was not a little comfortable to them; they thought themselves -the more bound in duty, to be circumspect of her education, by -keeping her out of over-frequent companies, but onely such as agreed -best with their gravity, & might give the least ill example to their Daughter, -who was named <i>Catharina</i>; as making no doubt, but by this their provident -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 <i>Manardy da Brettinoro</i>, -named <i>Messer Ricciardo</i>, who oftentimes frequented the House of -<i>Messer Lizio</i>, and was a continuall welcome guest to his Table, <i>Messer -Lizio</i> and his wife making the like account of him, even as if he had beene -their owne Sonne.</p> - -<p>This young Gallant, perceiving the Maiden to be very beautifull, of -singular behaviour, 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 covertly caried, but that she perceived it, and -grew in as good liking of him. Many times he had an earnest desire to -have 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 <i>Catharina</i>, I hope thou wilt not let me -die for thy love? <i>Signior Ricciardo</i> (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 <i>Messer Ricciardo</i>, that presently he -saide. Alas deare Love, I have dedicated all my fairest fortunes onely to -thy service, so that it remaineth soly in thy power, to dispose of me as best -shall please thee, and to appoint such times of private conversation, as -may yeeld more comfort to my poore afflicted soule.</p> - -<p><i>Catherina</i> standing musing awhile, at last returned him this answere. -<i>Signior Ricciardo</i>, quoth shee, you see what a restraint is set on my liberty, -how short I am kept from conversing with any one, that I hold this our enterparlance -now almost miraculous. But if you could devise any convenient -meanes, to admit us more familiar freedome, without any prejudice -to mine honour, or the least distaste of my Parents; doe but enstruct it, -and I will adventure it. <i>Ricciardo</i> having considered on many wayes and -meanes, thought one to be the fittest of all; and therefore thus replyed. -<i>Catharina</i> (quoth he) the onely place for our more private talking together, -I conceive to be the Gallery over your Fathers Garden. If you can -winne your Mother to let you lodge there, I will make meanes to climbe -over the wall, and at the goodly gazing window, we may discourse so long -as we please. Now trust me deare Love (answered <i>Catharina</i>) no place -can be more convenient for our purpose, there shall we heare the sweete -Birds sing, especially the Nightingale, which I have 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 divers parting kisses, they brake -off conference, till their next meeting.</p> - -<p>On the day following, which was towards the ending of the moneth -of <i>May, Catharina</i> began to complaine to her Mother, that the season was -over-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 have it? Seasons are to be suffered, -according to their severall 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 <i>Catherina</i>, that cannot be; for as Summer proceedeth -on, so the heate encreaseth, and no expectation can be of temperate -weather, untill it groweth to Winter againe. Why Daughter, -saide the Mother, what wouldest thou have me to doe? Mother (quoth -shee) if it might stand with my Fathers good liking and yours, I would be -lodged in the Garden Gallery, which is a great deale more coole, -and temperate. There shall I heare the sweete Nightingale sing, as every -night shee useth to doe, and many other pretty Birds beside, which I cannot -doe, lodging in your Chamber.</p> - -<p>The Mother loving her Daughter dearely, as being some-what over-fond -of her, and very willing to give her contentment; promised to impart -her minde to her Father, not doubting but to compasse what shee requested. -When shee had moved the matter to <i>Messer Lizio</i>, 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 Oven, and there -let the Crickets make her melody. When <i>Catharina</i> heard this answere -from her Father, and saw her desire to be disappointed; not onely could -shee not 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, -have we but one onely Daughter, whom you pretend to love 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 hardly (as yet) out of her childish yeeres, and Children have many -desires farre differing from ours: the singing of Birds is rare musicke to -them, and chiefly the Nightingale; whose sweete notes will provoke them -to rest, when neither art or physicke can doe it.</p> - -<p>Is it even so Wife? answered <i>Messer Lizio</i>. Must your will and mine -be governed by our Daughter? Well be it so then, let her bed be made in -the Garden Gallerie, but I will have the keeping of the key, both to locke -her in at night, and set her at libertie every morning. Woman, woman, -young wenches are wily, many wanton crochets are busie in their braines, -and to us that are aged, they sing like Lapwings, telling us one thing, and -intending another; talking of Nightingales, when their mindes run on -Cocke-Sparrowes. Seeing Wife, shee must needes have her minde, let -yet your care and mine extend so farre, to keepe her chastity uncorrupted, -and our credulity from being abused. <i>Catharina</i> having thus prevailed -with her Mother, her bed made in the Garden Gallery, and secret intelligence -given to <i>Ricciardo</i>, for preparing his meanes of accesse to her -window; old provident <i>Lizio</i> lockes the doore to bed-ward, and gives her -liberty to come forth in the morning, for his owne lodging was neere to -the same Gallery.</p> - -<p>In the dead and silent time of night, when all (but Lovers) take their -rest; <i>Ricciardo</i> having provided a Ladder of Ropes, with grapling hookes -to take hold above and below, according as he had occasion to use it. By -helpe thereof, first he mounted over the Garden wall, and then climbde -up to the Gallery window, before which (as is every where in <i>Italie</i>) was a -little round engirting Tarras, onely for a man to stand upon, for making -cleane the window, or otherwise repairing it. Many nights (in this manner) -enjoyed they their meetings, entermixing their amorous conference -with infinite kisses and kinde embraces, as the window gave leave, he sitting -in the Tarras, and departing alwayes before breake of day, for feare -of being discovered by any.</p> - -<p>But, as excesse of delight is the Nurse to negligence, and begetteth such -an over-presuming boldnesse, as afterward proveth to be sauced with repentance: -so came it to passe with our over-fond Lovers, in being taken -tardy 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 respective of, then was requisite -in an adventure so dangerous: it fortuned, that their amorous pleasure -had so farre transported them, and dulled their sences in such sort, by -these their continued nightly watchings; that they both fell fast asleepe, -he having his hand closed in hers, and shee one arme folded about his body, -and thus they slept till broade day light. Old <i>Messer Lizio</i>, who continually -was the morning Cocke to the whole House, going foorth into -his Garden, saw how his Daughter and <i>Ricciardo</i> were seated at the window. -In he went againe, and going to his wives Chamber, saide to her. -Rise quickly wife, and you shall see, what made our Daughter so desirous -to lodge in the Garden Gallery. I perceive that shee loved 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 live Nightingale -in the darke? You shall see that your selfe, answered <i>Messer Lizio</i>, -if you will make haste, and goe with me.</p> - -<p>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 perceiving how -<i>Ricciardo</i> and <i>Catharina</i> had both deceived her, would have made an outcry, -but that <i>Messer Lizio</i> spake thus to her. Wife, as you love me, speake -not a word, neither make any noyse: for, seeing shee hath loved <i>Ricciardo</i> -without our knowledge, and they have had their private meetings in this -manner, yet free from any blamefull imputation; he shall enjoy her, and -shee him. <i>Ricciardo</i> is a Gentleman, well derived, and of rich possessions, -it can be no disparagement to us, that <i>Catharina</i> match with him in mariage, -which he neither shall, or dare denie to doe, in regard of our Lawes -severity; for climbing up to my window with his Ladder of Ropes, whereby -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 up to the Law, which surely shee will not suffer, their love -agreeing together in such mutuall manner, and he adventuring so dangerously -for her.</p> - -<p>Madam <i>Jaquemina</i>, perceiving that her husband spake very reasonably, -and was no more offended at the matter; stept aside with him behinde -the drawne Curtaines, untill they should awake of themselves. At -the last, <i>Ricciardo</i> awaked, and seeing it was so farre in the day, thought -himselfe halfe dead, and calling to <i>Catharina</i>, saide. Alas deare Love! -what shall we doe? we have slept too long, and shall be taken here. At -which words, <i>Messer Lizio</i> stept forth from behind the Curtaines, saying. -Nay, <i>Signior Ricciardo</i>, seeing you have found such an unbefitting way hither, -we will provide you a better for your backe returning. When <i>Ricciardo</i> -saw the Father and Mother both there present, he could not devise -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 <i>Messer Lizio</i>, -I humbly crave 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 unfeined love to -your Daughter <i>Catharina</i>, hath beene the onely cause of my transgressing.</p> - -<p><i>Ricciardo</i> (replyed <i>Messer Lizio</i>) the love I beare thee, and the honest -confidence I doe repose in thee, step up (in some measure) to pleade thine -excuse, especially in the regard of my Daughter, whom I blame thee not -for loving, but for this unlawfull way of presuming to her. Neverthelesse, -perceiving 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 <i>Catharina</i>, to make her thy lawfull wife in mariage, -and wipe off all scandall to my House and me. All this while was poore -<i>Catharina</i> on her knees likewise to her Mother, who (notwithstanding this -her bold adventure) made earnest suite to her Husband to remit all, because -<i>Ricciardo</i> right gladly condiscended, as it being the maine issue of -his hope and desire; to accept his <i>Catharina</i> in mariage, whereto shee was -as willing as he. <i>Messer Lizio</i> presently called for the Confessour of his -House, and borrowing one of his Wives Rings, before they went out of -the Gallery; <i>Ricciardo</i> and <i>Catharina</i> were espoused together, to their no -little joy and contentment.</p> - -<p>Now had they more leasure for further conference, with the Parents -and kindred to <i>Ricciardo</i>, 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, living long after in happy prosperity.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Guidotto_of_Cremona_departing_out_of_this_mortall_life_left_a_Daughter_of_his" id="Guidotto_of_Cremona_departing_out_of_this_mortall_life_left_a_Daughter_of_his">Guidotto <i>of Cremona, departing out of this mortall life, left a Daughter of his, -with</i> Jacomino <i>of Pavia.</i> Giovanni di Severino, <i>and</i> Menghino da -Minghole, <i>fell both in love with the young Maiden, and fought for her; who -being afterward knowne, to be the Sister to</i> Giovanni, <i>shee was given in mariage -to</i> Menghino.</a></h4> - -<h2>The fifth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein may be observed, what quarrels and contentions are occasioned by -Love; with some particular discription, concerning the sincerity of a loyall -friend.</i></h4> - - -<p>All the Ladies laughing heartily, at the Novell of the Nightingale, so -pleasingly delivered by <i>Philostratus</i>, when they saw the same to be -fully ended, the Queene thus spake. Now trust me <i>Philostratus</i>, though -yester-day you did much oppresse mee with melancholy, yet you have -made me such an amends to day, as wee have little reason to complaine -any more of you. So converting her speech to Madam <i>Neiphila</i>, shee -commanded her to succeede with her discourse, which willingly she yeelded -to, beginning in this manner. Seeing it pleased <i>Philostratus</i>, to produce -his Novell out of <i>Romania</i>: I meane to walke with him in the same -jurisdiction, concerning what I am to say.</p> - -<p>There dwelt sometime in the City of <i>Fano</i>, two Lombards, the one -being named <i>Guidotto</i> of <i>Cremona</i>, and the other <i>Jacomino</i> of <i>Pavia</i>, men -of sufficient entrance into yeeres, having followed the warres (as Souldiers) -all their youthfull time. <i>Guidotto</i> feeling sicknesse to over-master him, -and having no sonne, kinsman, or friend, in whom he might repose more -trust, then hee did in <i>Jacomino</i>: having 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 enjoyed, and then departed out of this life. It came to passe, that the -City of <i>Faenza</i>, long time being molested with tedious warres, and subjected -to very servile condition; beganne now to recover her former -strength, with free permission (for all such as pleased) to returne and possesse -their former dwellings. Whereupon, <i>Jacomino</i> (having sometime -beene an inhabitant there) was desirous to live in <i>Faenza</i> againe, convaying -thither all his goods, and taking with him also the young girle, which -<i>Guidotto</i> had left him, whom hee loved, and respected as his owne -childe.</p> - -<p>As shee grew in stature, so shee did in beauty and vertuous qualities, -as none was more commended throughout the whole City, for faire, civill, -and honest demeanour, which incited many amorously to affect her. -But (above all the rest) two very honest young men, of good fame and repute, -who were so equally in love addicted to her, that being jealous of -each others fortune, in preventing of their severall hopefull expectation; -a deadly hatred grew suddenly betweene them, the one being named, -<i>Giovanni de Severino</i>, and the other <i>Menghino da Minghole</i>. 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 give no consent -thereto: wherefore, perceiving their honest intended meaning to be frustrated, -they now began to busie their braines, how to forestall one another -by craft and circumvention.</p> - -<p><i>Jacomino</i> had a Maide-servant belonging to his House, somewhat aged, -and a Man-servant beside, named <i>Grivello</i>, of mirthfull disposition, and -very friendly, with whom <i>Giovanni</i> grew in great familiarity; and when he -found time fit for the purpose, he discovered his love to him, requesting -his furtherance and assistance, in compassing the height of his desire, with -bountifull promises of rich rewarding; whereto <i>Grivello</i> 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 never will stay to heare me. -Wherefore, if my service this way may doe you any good, I promise to -performe it; doe you beside, as you shall find it most convenient 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.</p> - -<p><i>Menghino</i>, on the other side, having entred into the Chamber-maides -acquaintance, sped so well with her, that shee delivered 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 have conference with -her, whensoever her Master should be absent from home. Thus <i>Menghino</i> -being favoured (on the one side) by the olde Chamber-maide, and <i>Giovanni</i> -(on the other) by trusty <i>Grivello</i>; their amorous warre was now on -foote, and diligently followed by both their sollicitors. Within a short -while after, by the procurement of <i>Grivello, Jacomino</i> was invited by a -neighbour to supper, in company of divers his very familiar friends, whereof -intelligence being given to <i>Giovanni</i>; a conclusion passed betweene -them, that (upon a certaine signale given) he should come, and finde the -doore standing ready open, to give him all accesse unto the affected -Mayden.</p> - -<p>The appointed night being come, and neither of these hot Lovers -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 provided, for eithers safer entrance when neede should require. -<i>Menghino</i> stayed with his troope, in a neere neighbouring house to -the Mayden, attending when the signall would be given: but <i>Giovanni</i> and -his consorts, were ambushed somewhat further off from the House, and -both saw when <i>Jacomino</i> went foorth to supper. Now <i>Grivello</i> and the -Chamber-maide began to vary, which should send the other out of the -way, till they had effected their severall intention; whereupon <i>Grivello</i> 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.</p> - -<p>But <i>Grivello</i> remembring himselfe, that the houre of his appointment -with <i>Giovanni</i> 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 revenged on her when I list. So, having made the signall, he went to -open the doore, even when <i>Giovanni</i> (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 <i>Menghino</i> 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, upon this mutinous noyse and -out-cry, the Neighbours came foorth of their Houses, with lights, staves, -and clubbes, greatly reproving them for this out-rage, yet assisting <i>Menghino</i>: -by meanes whereof, after a long time of contention, <i>Menghino</i> recovered -the Mayden from <i>Giovanni</i>, and placed her peaceably in <i>Jacominoes</i> -House.</p> - -<p>No sooner was this hurly-burly somewhat calmed, but the Serjeants -to the Captaine of the City, came thither, and apprehended divers of the -mutiners: among whom were <i>Menghino, Giovanni,</i> and <i>Grivello</i>, committing -them immediately to prison. But after every thing was pacified, and -<i>Jacomino</i> returned home to his House from supper; he was not a little offended -at so grosse an injury. When he was fully informed, how the matter -happened, and apparantly perceived, that no blame at all could be imposed -on the Mayden: he grew the better contented, resolving with himselfe -(because no more such inconveniences should happen) to have her -married so soone as possibly he could.</p> - -<p>When morning was come, the kindred and friends on either side, understanding -the truth of the error committed, and knowing beside, what -punishment would be inflicted on the prisoners, if <i>Jacomino</i> 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 unruly and youthfull people, meerely drawne into the -action by perswasion of friends; submitting both themselves, and the offendors, -to such satisfaction as he pleased to appoint them. <i>Jacomino</i>, who -had seene and observed many things in his time, and was a man of sound -understanding, returned them this answere.</p> - -<p>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 service, but even as you shall please to command -me. But plainely, and without all further ceremonious complement, I -must agree to whatsoever you can request; as thinking you to be more injured -by me, then any great wrong that I have sustained. Concerning the -young Damosell remaining in my House, shee is not (as many have imagined) -either of <i>Cremona</i>, or <i>Pavia</i>, but borne a <i>Faentine</i>, here in this Citie: -albeit neither my selfe, shee, or he of whom I had her, did ever 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 native -of your owne, doe right to her, and then you can doe no wrong unto -mee.</p> - -<p>When the Gentlemen understood, that the Mayden was borne in <i>Faenza</i>, -they marvelled thereat, and after they had thanked <i>Jacomino</i> 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 <i>Faenza</i>: -when he, perceiving them attentive to heare him, began in this -manner.</p> - -<p>Understand worthy Gentlemen, that <i>Guidotto</i> of <i>Cremona</i>, was my -companion and deare friend, who growing neere to his death, tolde me, -that when this City was surprized by the Emperour <i>Frederigo</i>, 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 utterly forsaken of the dwellers, onely this poore Mayden excepted, -being then aged but two yeeres, or thereabout. As hee mounted up the -steps, with intent to depart from the House; she called him Father, which -word moved 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 <i>Fano</i>, 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 convenient for mariage, yet -I could never find any one to bestow her on, at least that I thought fitting -for her: howbeit, I will listen thereto much more respectively, before any -other such accident shall happen.</p> - -<p>It came to passe, that in the reporting of this discourse, there was then -a Gentleman in the company, named <i>Guillemino da Medicina</i>, who at the -surprizal of the City, was present with <i>Guidotto</i> of <i>Cremona</i>, 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. <i>Bernardino</i>, hearest -thou what <i>Jacomino</i> hath related? yes very wel, replyed <i>Bernardino</i>, and remember -withall, that in that dismall bloody combustion, I lost a little -Daughter, about the age as <i>Jacomino</i> speaketh. Questionlesse then, replied -<i>Guillemino</i>, shee must needes be the same young Mayden, for I was there -at the same time, and in the House, whence <i>Guidotto</i> did bring both the -girle and goods, and I doe perfectly remember, that it was thy House. -I pray thee call to minde, if ever thou sawest any scarre or marke about -her, which may revive thy former knowledge of her, for my minde perswades -me, that the Maide is thy Daughter.</p> - -<p><i>Bernardino</i> musing a while with himselfe, remembred, that under her -left eare, 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 <i>Jacomino</i> -(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 <i>Bernardino</i> beheld her, he began to be much inwardly -moved; 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 <i>Jacomino</i> to be so -pleased, as to lift up a little the lockes of haire, depending over her left -eare. <i>Jacomino</i> did it presently, albeit with a modest blushing in the maide, -and <i>Bernardino</i> looking advisedly on it, knew it to be the selfe same crosse; -which confirmed her constantly to be his Daughter.</p> - -<p>Overcome with excesse of joy, which made the teares to trickle downe -his cheekes, he proffered to embrace and kisse the Maide: but she resisting -his kindnesse, because (as yet) shee knew no reason for it, he turned himselfe -to <i>Jacomino</i>, saying. My deare brother and friend, this Maide is my -Daughter, and my House was the same which <i>Guidotto</i> spoyled, in the generall -havocke 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, observing him also to -be a man of yeeres and gravity: shee beleeved what he saide, and humbly -submitted her selfe to his kisses & embraces, even as instructed thereto by -instinct of nature. <i>Bernardino</i> instantly sent for his wife, her owne mother, -his daughters, sonnes, and kindred, who being acquainted with this admirable -accident, gave her most gracious and kind welcome, he receiving her -from <i>Jacomino</i> as his childe, and the legacies which <i>Guidotto</i> had left her.</p> - -<p>When the Captaine of the City (being a very wise and worthy Gentleman) -heard these tydings, and knowing that <i>Giovanni</i>, then his prisoner, -was the Son to <i>Bernardino</i>, and naturall Brother to the newly recovered -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 loving league of peace was confirmed betweene -<i>Giovanni</i> and <i>Menghino</i>, to whom (with free and full consent on all sides) -the faire Maide, named <i>Agatha</i>, was given in marriage, with a more honourable -enlargement of her dowry, and <i>Grivello</i>, with the rest, delivered -out of prison, which for their tumultuous riot they had justly deserved. -<i>Menghino</i> and <i>Agatha</i> had their wedding worthily sollemnized, with all -due honours belonging thereto; and long time after they lived in <i>Faenza</i>, -highly beloved, and graciously esteemed.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Guion_di_Procida_being_found_familiarly_conversing_with_a_young_Damosell" id="Guion_di_Procida_being_found_familiarly_conversing_with_a_young_Damosell">Guion di Procida, <i>being found familiarly conversing with a young Damosell, -which he loved; and had been given (formerly) to</i> Frederigo, <i>King of Sicilie: -was bound to a stake; to be consumed with fire. From which danger (neverthelesse) -he escaped, being knowne by</i> Don Rogiero de Oria, <i>Lord Admirall -of Sicilie, and afterward married the Damosell.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The sixth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is manifested, that love can leade a man into numberlesse perils: out of -which he escapeth with no meane difficulty.</i></h4> - - -<p>The Novell of Madam <i>Neiphila</i> being ended, which proved very -pleasing to the Ladies: the Queene commanded Madam <i>Pampinea</i>, -that shee should prepare to take her turne next, whereto willingly obeying, -thus shee began. Many and mighty (Gracious Ladies) are the prevailing -powers of love, conducting amorous soules into infinite travels, -with inconveniences no way avoidable, and not easily to be foreseene, or -prevented. As partly already hath beene observed, by divers of our former -Novels 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.</p> - -<p><i>Ischia</i> is an Iland very neere to <i>Naples</i>, wherein (not long since) lived a -faire and lovely Gentlewoman, named <i>Restituta</i>, Daughter to a Gentleman -of the same Isle, whose name was <i>Marino Bolgaro</i>. A proper youth -called <i>Guion</i>, dwelling also in a neere neighbouring Isle, called <i>Procida</i>, -did love 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 -gave him leave; he resorted to <i>Ischia</i> very often in the day time, and -as often also in the night season, when any Barque passed from <i>Procida</i> to -<i>Ischia</i>; if to see nothing else, yet to behold the walles that enclosed his Mistresse -thus.</p> - -<p>While this love continued in equall fervency, it chanced upon a faire -Summers day, that <i>Restituta</i> walked alone upon the Sea-shoare, going -from Rocke to Rocke, having 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 adjoining to it, and thither (at that very instant -time) certaine Sicilian young Gentlemen, which came from <i>Naples</i>, had -made their retreate. They perceiving the Gentlewoman to be very beautifull -(shee as yet not having 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.</p> - -<p>Setting sayle thence, they arrived in <i>Calabria</i>, 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 resolved, to bestow her as a rich present, on -<i>Frederigo</i> King of <i>Sicilie</i>, who was then young & joviall, and could not be -pleased with a better gift; wherefore they were no sooner landed at <i>Palermo</i>, -but they did according as they had determined. The King did commend -her beauty extraordinarily, and liked her farre beyond all his other -Loves: but, being at that time empaired in his health, and his body much -distempered by ill dyet; he gave command, that untill 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 <i>Cube</i>, where shee was attended -in most pompeous manner.</p> - -<p>Now grew the noyse and rumor great in <i>Ischia</i>, about this rape or stealing -away of <i>Restituta</i>; but the chiefest greevance of all, was, that it could -not be knowne how, by whom, or by what meanes. But <i>Guion di Procida</i>, -whom this injury concerned much more then any other; stood not in expectation -of better tydings from <i>Ischia</i>, 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, even from <i>Minerva</i>, -unto the <i>Scalea</i> in <i>Calabria</i>, searching for his lost Love in every angle: at -length it was tolde him at the <i>Scalea</i>, that shee was carried away by certaine -<i>Sicillian</i> Marriners, to <i>Palermo</i>, whither <i>Guion</i> set sayle immediately.</p> - -<p>After some diligent search made there, he understood, that she was delivered -to the King, and he had given strict command, for keeping her in -his place of pleasure; called the <i>Cube</i>: which newes were not a little greevous -to him, for now he was almost quite out of hope, not onely of ever -enjoying her, but also of seeing her. Neverthelesse, Love would not let -him utterly despaire, whereupon he sent away his Barque, and perceiving -himselfe to be unknowne of any; he continued for some time in <i>Palermo</i>, -walking many times by that goodly place of pleasure. It chanced on a -day, that keeping his walke as he used to doe, Fortune was so favourable to -him, as to let him have a sight of her at her window; from whence also -she had a full view of him, to their exceeding comfort and contentment. -And <i>Guion</i> observing, that the <i>Cube</i> was seated in a place of small resort; -approached so neere as possibly he durst, to have some conference with -<i>Restituta</i>.</p> - -<p>As Love sets a keene edge on the dullest spirit, and (by a small advantage) -makes a man the more adventurous: so this little time of unseene -talke, inspired him with courage, and her with witty advice, by what -meanes his accesse might be much neerer to her, and their communication -concealed from any discovery, 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 convenient, -he returned thither againe, provided of such grappling-yrons, as -is required when men will clamber, made fast unto 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 given him instruction, and rearing it up against her chamber -window, made that his meanes for ascending thereto, shee having left -it open for his easier entrance.</p> - -<p>You cannot denie (faire Ladies) but here was a very hopefull beginning, -and likely to have as happy an ending, were it not true Loves fatall -misery, even in the very height of promised assurance, to be thwarted by -unkind prevention, and in such manner as I will tell you. This night, intended -for our Lovers meeting, proved disastrous and dreadfull to them -both: for the King, who at the first sight of <i>Restituta</i>, was highly pleased -with her excelling beauty; gave 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. <i>Restituta</i> -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.</p> - -<p>No sooner was poore <i>Guion</i> aloft at the window, calling softly to his -Mistresse, as if she had beene there; but he was over-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 avouching, -that <i>Restituta</i> 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 justified the goodnesse -of his cause: <i>Restituta</i> likewise was sent for, who no sooner saw her deare -Love <i>Guion</i>, but shee ran and caught him fast about the necke, kissing him -in teares, and greeving 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 having himselfe seene, by what strange -meanes he did climbe over 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.</p> - -<p>Forthwith he sentenced them both with death, commanding, that -they should be conveyed thence to <i>Palermo</i>, 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 Lovers, as the uncivill and -unsightly 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 <i>Palermo</i>, 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, even the whole City of <i>Palermo</i>, both men and women. The -men were stricken with admiration, beholding the unequalled beauty of -faire <i>Restituta</i>, & the selfe same passion possessed the women, seeing <i>Guion</i> -to be such a goodly and compleat young man: but the poore infortunate -Lovers themselves, they stood with their lookes dejected 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 lives together.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Don Rogiero de Oria</i>, a man of much admired -valour, and then the Lord high Admirall of <i>Sicily</i>, who came himselfe in -person, to the place appointed for their death. First he observed 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, advisedly -beholding poore condemned <i>Guion</i>, conceived, that he had somewhat -seene him before this instant, and upon this perswasion (even as if divine -vertue had tutured his tongue) he saide: Is not thy name <i>Guion di Procida</i>?</p> - -<p>Marke now, how quickly misery can receive comfort, upon so poore -and silly a question; for <i>Guion</i> began to elevate his dejected countenance, -and looking on the Admirall, returned him this answere. Sir, heretofore -I have 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 unkindly -crost thee? Love (answered <i>Guion</i>) and the Kings displeasure. Then -the Admirall would needs know the whole history at large, which briefly -was related to him, and having heard how all had happened; as he was -turning his Horse to ride away thence, <i>Guion</i> called to him, saying. Good -my Lord, entreate one favour for me, if possible it may be. What is that? -replyed the Admirall. You see Sir (quoth <i>Guion</i>) 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 love 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.</p> - -<p>At his departure, he commanded them that had the charge of this execution, -to proceede no further, untill they heard more from the King, to -whom hee gallopped immediately, and although hee beheld him to be -very angerly moved; yet he spared not to speake in this manner. Sir, wherein -have those poore young couple offended you, that are so shamefully -to be burnt at <i>Palermo</i>? The King told him: whereto the Admirall (pursuing -still his purpose) thus replyed. Beleeve me Sir, if true love be an offence, -then theirs may be termed to be one; and albeit it did deserve death, -yet farre be it from thee to inflict it on them: for as faults doe justly 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 over-violently transported with -anger.</p> - -<p>The young Gentleman, is the Sonne to <i>Landolfo di Procida</i>, the onely -Brother to Lord <i>John di Procida</i>, by whose meanes thou becamest Lord -and King of this Countrey. The faire young Damosell, is the Daughter -to <i>Marino Bolgaro</i>, whose power extendeth so farre, as to preserve thy prerogative -in <i>Ischia</i>, which (but for him) had long since beene out-rooted -there. Beside, these two maine motives, to challenge justly grace and favour -from thee; they are in the floure and pride of their youth, having -long continued in loyall love together, and compelled by fervency of endeared -affection, not any will to displease thy Majesty: they have offended -(if it may be termed an offence to love, and in such lovely 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?</p> - -<p>When the King had heard this, and beleeved 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 have them released from the Stake, and -honourably to be brought before him. Being thus enstructed in their severall -qualities, and standing in duty obliged, to recompence the wrong -which he had done, with respective honours: he caused them to be cloathed -in royall garments, and knowing them to be knit in unity 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 <i>Ischia</i>; where they were with much joy and comfort received, and lived -long after in great felicity.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Theodoro_falling_in_love_with_Violenta_the_Daughter_to_his_Master_named" id="Theodoro_falling_in_love_with_Violenta_the_Daughter_to_his_Master_named">Theodoro <i>falling in love with</i> Violenta, <i>the Daughter to his Master, named</i> -Amarigo, <i>and shee conceiving 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 enjoyed</i> Violenta <i>in marriage.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The seventh Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is declared, the sundry travels and perillous accidents, occasioned by -those two powerfull Commanders, Love and Fortune, the insulting Tyrants -over humaine life.</i></h4> - - -<p>Greatly were the Ladies minds perplexed, when they heard, that the -two poore Lovers were in danger to be burned: but hearing afterward -of their happy deliverance, for which they were as joyfull againe; -upon the concluding of the Novell, the Queene looked on Madam <i>Lauretta</i>, -enjoyning her to tell the next Tale, which willingly she undertooke -to doe, and thus began.</p> - -<p>Faire Ladies, at such time as the good King <i>William</i> reigned in <i>Sicily</i>, -there lived within the same Dominions a young Gentleman, named <i>Signior -Amarigo</i>, Abbot of <i>Trapani</i>, who (among his other worldly blessings, -commonly termed the goods of Fortune) was not unfurnished of children; -and therefore having neede of servants, he made his provision of -them as best he might. At that time, certaine Gallies of <i>Geneway</i> Pyrates -comming from the Easterne parts, which coasting along <i>Armenia</i>, had -taken divers 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, -<i>Theodoro</i>: who growing on in yeeres, (albeit he lived in the condition of -a servant) was educated among <i>Amarigoes</i> Children, and as enstructed rather -by nature, then accident, his conditions were very much commended, -as also the feature of his body, which proved so highly pleasing to -his Master <i>Amarigo</i>, that he made him a free man, and imagining him to -be a Turke, caused him to be baptized, and named <i>Pedro</i>, creating him superintendent -of all his affaires, and reposing his chiefest trust in him.</p> - -<p>As the other Children of <i>Signior Amarigo</i> grew in yeeres and stature, -so did a Daughter of his, named <i>Violenta</i>, a very goodly and beautifull -Damosell, somewhat over-long kept from marriage by her Fathers covetousnesse, -and casting an eye of good liking on poore <i>Pedro</i>. Now, albeit -shee loved him very dearely, and all his behaviour was most pleasing to -her, yet maiden modesty forbad her to reveale it, till Love (too long concealed) -must needes disclose itselfe. Which <i>Pedro</i> 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 observed it, and to her no meane contentment, as it appeared -no lesse (on the other side) to honest <i>Pedro</i>.</p> - -<p>While thus they loved 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, even as if shee pittied their so -long languishing, enstructed them how to find out a way, whereby they -might both better releeve themselves. <i>Signior Amarigo</i>, about some two -or three miles distance from <i>Trapani</i>, had a Countrey-House or Farme, -whereto his Wife, with her Daughter and some other women, used oftentimes -to make their resort, as it were in sportfull recreation; <i>Pedro</i> 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 over-clouded, even as they were returning home -towards <i>Trapani</i>, threatning a storme of raine to overtake them, except -they made the speedier haste.</p> - -<p><i>Pedro</i>, who was young, and likewise <i>Violenta</i>, went farre more lightly -then her Mother and her company, as much perhaps provoked by love, -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 themselves in a -poore Countrey-mans Cottage. <i>Pedro</i> and <i>Violenta</i>, having no other refuge, -ranne likewise into a poore Sheepe-coate, so over 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 coveting to avoide it so well as they could; sighes -and drie hemmes were often inter-vented, as dumbly (before) they were -wont to doe, when willingly they could affoord another kind of speaking.</p> - -<p>At last <i>Pedro</i> tooke heart, and saide: I would this shower would never -cease, that I might be alwayes where I am. The like could I wish, answered -<i>Violenta</i>, 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 Lovers soules; so that the raine ceased not, till they had taken order -for their oftner conversing, and absolute plighting of their faithes together. -By this time the storme was fairely over-blowne, and they attending -on the way, till the Mother and the rest were come, with whom they -returned to <i>Trapani</i>, where by wise and provident meanes, they often conferred -in private together, and enjoyed the benefit of their amorous desires; -yet free from any ill surmise or suspition.</p> - -<p>But, as Lovers felicities are sildome permanent, without one encountring -crosse or other: so these stolne pleasures of <i>Pedro</i> and <i>Violenta</i>, met -with as sowre a sauce in the farewell. For, shee proved to be conceived -with childe, then which could befall them no heavier affliction, and <i>Pedro</i> -fearing to loose his life therefore, determined immediate flight, and revealed -his purpose to <i>Violenta</i>. Which when she heard, she told him plainly, -that if he fled, forth-with shee would kill her selfe. Alas deare Love -(quoth <i>Pedro</i>) with what reason can you wish my tarrying here? This -conception of yours, doth discover our offence, which a Fathers pity may -easily pardon in you: but I being his servant and vassall, shall be punished -both for your sinne and mine, because he will have no mercy on me. Content -thy selfe <i>Pedro</i>, replyed <i>Violenta</i>, I will take such order for mine owne -offence, by the discreete counsell of my loving 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 <i>Pedro</i>, and constantly -maintaine your promise; I will not depart, but see that you prove to be so -good as your word.</p> - -<p><i>Violenta</i>, who had concealed her amisse so long as shee could, and saw -no other remedy, but now at last it must needes be discovered; went privately -to her Mother, and (in teares) revealed her infirmity, humbly craving -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 <i>Pedro</i> from any detection) forged a Tale of her -owne braine, farre from any truth indeede, which her Mother verily beleeving, -and willing to preserve her Daughter from shame, as also the -fierce anger of her Husband, he being a man of very implacable nature: -conveyed her to the Countrey-Farme, whither <i>Signior Amarigo</i> sildome -or never resorted, intending (under the shadow of sicknesse) to let her lie -in there, without the least suspition of any in <i>Trapani</i>.</p> - -<p>Sinne and shame can never be so closely carried, or clouded with the -greatest cunning; but truth hath a loop-light whereby to discover it, even -when it supposeth it selfe in the surest safety. For, on the very day of her -deliverance, at such time as the Mother, and some few friends (sworne to -secrecy) were about the businesse: <i>Signior Amarigo</i>, having beene in company -of other Gentlemen, to flye his Hawke at the River, upon a sudden, -(but very unfortunately, albeit he was alone by himselfe) stept into his -Farme house, even to the next roome where the women were, and heard -the new-borne Babe to cry, whereat marvelling 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 never before he had used -to doe, and pittying the wofull distresse of her Daughter, which now -could be no longer covered, revealed what happened to <i>Violenta</i>. But -he, being nothing so rash in beliefe, as his Wife was, made answere, that it -was impossible for his Daughter to be conceived with childe, because he -never observed the least signe of love in her to any man whatsoever, and -therefore he would be satisfied in the truth, as shee expected any favour -from him, for else there was no other way but death.</p> - -<p>The Mother laboured by all meanes shee could devise, to pacifie her -Husbands fury, which proved 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 delivered of a goodly Sonne) he said unto -her. Either tell me who is the Father of this Bastard, or thou and it shall -perish both together. Poore <i>Violenta</i>, lesse respecting her owne life, then -she did the childes; forgot her sollemne promise made to <i>Pedro</i>, and discovered -all. Which when <i>Amarigo</i> 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 <i>Trapani</i>, where he disclosed the injury which <i>Pedro</i> -had done him, to a noble Gentleman, named <i>Signior Conrado</i>, who -was Captaine for the King over the City.</p> - -<p>Before poore <i>Pedro</i> could have 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. <i>Signior Amarigo</i>, because he would cut off (at one -and the same time) not onely the lives of the two poore Lovers, but their -childes also; as a franticke man, violently carried from all sense of compassion, -even when <i>Pedro</i> was led and whipt to his death: he mingled strong -poyson in a Cup of wine, delivering it to a trusty servant of his owne, and -a naked Rapier withall, speaking to him in this manner. Goe carry these -two presents to my late Daughter <i>Violenta</i>, and tell her from me, that in -this instant houre, two severall kinds of death are offered unto 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 deserved. -When thou hast delivered 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.</p> - -<p>When the Father had given this cruell sentence, both against his own -Daughter, and her young Sonne, the servant, readier to doe evill, then any -good, went to the place where his Daughter was kept. Poore condemned -<i>Pedro</i>, (as you have heard) was ledde whipt to the Jybbet, 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 <i>Armenia</i>, whom the King -of the Countrey had sent to <i>Rome</i>, 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 journey, and highly honoured by the Gentlemen of <i>Trapani</i>, -especially <i>Signior Amarigo</i>; these Ambassadours standing in their -Chamber window, heard the wofull lamentations of <i>Pedro</i> in his passage -by.</p> - -<p><i>Pedro</i> was naked from the middle upward, and his hands bound fast behind -him, but being well observed by one of the Ambassadours, a man aged, -and of great authority, named <i>Phineo</i>: he espied a great red spot uppon -his breast, not painted, or procured by his punishment, but naturally -imprinted in the flesh, which women (in these parts) terme the Rose. Uppon -the sight hereof, he suddenly remembred a Sonne of his owne, which -was stolne from him about fifteene yeeres before, by Pyrates on the Sea-coast -of <i>Laiazzo</i>, never hearing any tydings of him afterward. Upon 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 living, 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.</p> - -<p>Moreover, thus he conceived, that if it were he, he could not but remember -his owne name, his Fathers, and the Armenian Language; wherefore, when -hee was just opposite before the window, hee called aloud to -him, saying: <i>Theodoro. Pedro</i> hearing the voyce, presently listed up his -head, and <i>Phineo</i> speaking <i>Armenian</i>, saide: Of whence art thou, and what -is thy Fathers name? The Sergeants (in reverence to the Lord Ambassadour) -stayed a while, till <i>Pedro</i> had returned his answer, who saide. I am -an <i>Armenian</i> borne, Sonne to one <i>Phineo</i>, and was brought hither I cannot -tell by whom. <i>Phineo</i> 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 joy: 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 unto them; which very willingly they -promised to doe.</p> - -<p>Already, by the generall rumour dispersed abroade, <i>Phineo</i> had understood -the occasion, why <i>Pedro</i> was thus punished, and sentenced to be -hanged; wherefore, accompanied with his fellow Ambassadours, and all -their attending traine, he went to <i>Signior Conrado</i>, and spake thus to him. -My Lord, he whom you have sent to death as a slave, is a free Gentleman -borne, and my Sonne, able to make her amends whom he hath dishonoured, -by taking her in mariage as his lawfull Wife. Let me therefore entreate -you, to make stay of the execution, untill 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 <i>Signior Conrado</i> heard, -that <i>Pedro</i> was Sonne to the Lord Ambassadour, he wondered thereat -not a little, and being somewhat ashamed of his fortunes error, confessed, -that the claime of <i>Phineo</i> was conformable to Law, and ought not to -be denied him; going presently to the Councell Chamber, sending for -<i>Signior Amarigo</i> immediately thither, and acquainting him fully with the -case.</p> - -<p><i>Amarigo</i>, who beleeved 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 have it done at all. He who went on this speedy -errand, found there <i>Signior Amarigoes</i> servant standing before <i>Violenta</i>, -with the Cup of poyson in his one hand, and the drawne Rapier in the -other, reproaching herewith very foule and injurious speeches, because -shee had delayed the time so long, and would not accept the one or other, -striving (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.</p> - -<p>Most highly pleased was <i>Amarigo</i> with these glad newes, and going to -the Ambassadour <i>Phineo</i>, in teares excused himselfe (so well as he could) -for his severity, and craving pardon; assured him, that if <i>Theodoro</i> would -accept his Daughter in mariage, willingly he would bestow her on him. -<i>Phineo</i> 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. <i>Amarigo</i> and <i>Phineo</i> being thus accorded, they went to poore -<i>Theodoro</i>, fearefully looking every minute when he should die, yet joyfull -that he had found his Father, who presently moved the question to him. -<i>Theodoro</i> hearing that <i>Violenta</i> should be his Wife, if he would so accept -her: was overcome with such exceeding joy, as if he had leapt out of hell -into Paradise; confessing, that no greater felicity could befall him, if <i>Violenta</i> -her selfe were so well pleased as he.</p> - -<p>The like motion was made to her, to understand her disposition in this -case, who hearing what good hap had befalne <i>Theodoro</i>, 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 above all in happinesse, if she might be wife to her beloved -<i>Theodoro</i>, submitting herselfe 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 up their sweete Son, which grew -to be a very comely childe.</p> - -<p>After that the Embassie was dispatched at <i>Rome</i>, and <i>Phineo</i> (with the -rest) was returned thither againe; <i>Violenta</i> did reverence him as her owne -naturall Father, and he was not a little proud of so lovely 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, <i>Phineo</i>, his Sonne, Daughter, and their young Son went -aboard, sayling away thence to <i>Laiazzo</i>, where afterward they lived long -in much tranquility.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Anastasio_a_Gentleman_of_the_Family_of_the_Honesti_by_loving_the_Daughter" id="Anastasio_a_Gentleman_of_the_Family_of_the_Honesti_by_loving_the_Daughter">Anastasio, <i>a Gentleman of the Family of the</i> Honesti, <i>by loving the Daughter -to</i> Signior Paulo Traversario, <i>lavishly wasted a great part of his substance, -without receiving any love from her againe. By perswasion of some of his -kindred and friends, he went to a Countrey dwelling of his, called</i> Chiasso, -<i>where he saw a Knight desperately pursue a young Damosell, whom he slew, -and afterward gave her to be devoured by his Hounds.</i> Anastasio <i>invited -his friends, and hers also whom he so dearely loved, to take part of a dinner -with him, who likewise saw the same Damosell so torne in peeces: which his -unkind Love perceiving, and fearing least the like ill fortune should happen -to her; shee accepted</i> Anastasio <i>to be her Husband.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The eighth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Declaring, that Love not onely makes a man prodigall, but also an enemy to himselfe. -Moreover, adventure oftentimes bringeth such matters to passe, as -wit and cunning in man can never comprehend.</i></h4> - -<p>So soone as Madam <i>Lauretta</i> held her peace, Madam <i>Philomena</i> (by the -Queenes command) began, and saide. Lovely Ladies, as pitty is most -highly commended in our Sexe, even so is cruelty in us as severely revenged -(oftentimes) by divine ordination. Which that you may the better -know, and learne likewise to shun, as a deadly evill; I purpose to make apparant -by a Novell, no lesse full of compassion, then delectable.</p> - -<p><i>Ravenna</i> being a very ancient City in <i>Romania</i>, there dwelt sometime a -great number of worthy Gentlemen, among whom I am to speake of one -more especially, named <i>Anastasio</i>, descended from the Family of the <i>Honesti</i>, -who by the death of his Father, and an Unkle 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 <i>Signior Paulo -Traversario</i>, one of the most ancient and noble Families in all the Countrey. -Nor made he any doubt, but by his meanes and industrious endeavour, -to derive affection from her againe; for hee carried himselfe like a -brave 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, howsoever Fortune became -his enemy, these laudable parts of manhood did not any way friend him, -but rather appeared hurtfull to him: so cruell, unkind, and almost meerely -savage 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.</p> - -<p>The harsh and uncivill usage in her, grew very distastefull to <i>Anastasio</i>, -and so unsufferable, that after a long time of fruitlesse service, 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; & governed -by more manly consideration, determined, that as she hated him, -he would requite her with the like, if he could: wherein he became altogether -deceived, because as his hopes grew to a dayly decaying, yet his -love enlarged it selfe more and more.</p> - -<p>Thus <i>Anastasio</i> persevering still in his bootelesse affection, and his expences -not limited within any compasse; it appeared in the judgement 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 advised -him to leave the City of <i>Ravenna</i>, and live in some other place for such -a while; as might set a more moderate stint upon his spendings, and bridle -the indiscreete course of his love, the onely fuell which fed this furious -fire.</p> - -<p><i>Anastasio</i> 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 were -to set thence for <i>France</i> or <i>Spaine</i>, or else into some further distant countrey: -he mounted on horsebacke, and accompanied with some few of his -familiar friends, departed from <i>Ravenna</i>, and rode to a country dwelling -house of his owne, about three or foure miles distant from the Cittie, -which was called <i>Chiasso</i>, and there (upon a very goodly greene) erecting -divers Tents and Pavillions, such as great persons make use 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 unto -<i>Ravenna</i>, and might come to visite him againe so often as they pleased.</p> - -<p>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 ever he had done before, inviting divers to dine with -him this day, and as many to morrow, and not to leave him till after supper: -upon the sodaine, falling into remembrance of his cruell Mistris, hee -commanded all his servants to forbeare his company, and suffer him to -walke alone by himselfe awhile, because he had occasion of private 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, having -gone some halfe miles distance from his Tents, entred into a Grove -of Pine-trees, never minding dinner time, or any thing else, but only the -unkind requitall of his love.</p> - -<p>Sodainly he heard the voice of a woman, seeming to make most mournfull -complaints, which breaking of his silent considerations, made him to -lift up his head, to know the reason of this noise. When he saw himselfe so -farre entred into the Grove, 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 upward, her haire dishevelled -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, giving -her very vile and dreadfull speeches, and threatning everie minute to -kill her.</p> - -<p>This strange and uncouth sight, bred in him no meane admiration, as -also kinde compassion to the unfortunate woman; out of which compassion, -sprung an earnest desire, to deliver her (if he could) from a death so -full of anguish and horror: but seeing himselfe to be without Armes, hee -ran and pluckt up 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. <i>Anastasio</i>, put not -thy selfe in any opposition, but referre to my Hounds and me, to punish -this wicked woman as she hath justly deserved. And in speaking these -words, the Hounds tooke fast hold on her body, so staying her, untill the -Knight was come neerer to her, and alighted from his horse: when <i>Anastasio</i> -(after some other angry speeches) spake thus unto 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 savage beast; therefore beleeve me, I will defend her so farre -as I am able.</p> - -<p><i>Anastasio</i>, 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 <i>Guido Anastasio</i>, and thine Unckle) became as intirely in love with -this woman, as now thou art of <i>Paulo Traversarioes</i> daughter. But through -her coy disdaine and cruelty, such was my heavy 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, rejoycing immeasurably in mine unhappie -death, remained no long time alive after me, and for her mercilesse sinne -of cruelty, and taking pleasure in my oppressing torments; dying unrepentant, -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.</p> - -<p>There the three impartiall Judges, imposed this further infliction on -us both; namely, that shee should flye in this manner before mee, and I -(who loved her so deerely while I lived) must pursue her as my deadly enemy, -not like a woman that had any taste of love in her. And so often -as I can overtake her, I am to kill her with this sword, the same Weapon -wherewith I slew my selfe. Then am I enjoyned, 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 give unto my hounds to feede -on. Afterward, such is the appointment of the supreame powers, that -she re-assumeth life againe, even 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. Every Friday, and just at this houre, -our course is this way, where shee suffereth the just punishment inflicted -on her. Nor do we rest any of the other dayes, but are appointed unto other -places, where she cruelly executed her malice against me, being now -(of her dear affectionate friend) 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 -divine justice; for all thy interposition is but in vaine, in seeking to crosse -the appointment of supreame powers.</p> - -<p><i>Anastasio</i> having attentively heard all this discourse, his haire stoode -upright like Porcupines quils, and his soule was so shaken with the terror, -that he stept back to suffer the Knight to doe what he was enjoyned, looking -yet with milde commiseration 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 devoured -them very greedily. Soone after, the Damosell (as if none of this punishment -had bene inflicted on her) started up 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 <i>Anastasio</i> had soon lost all sight of them, and could not gesse what -was become of them.</p> - -<p>After he had heard and observed 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 deceived servants. Forthwith hee perswaded -himself, that he might make good use of this womans tormenting, so justly -imposed on the Knight to prosecute, if thus it should continue still every -Friday. Wherefore, setting a good note or marke upon the place, hee -returned backe to his owne people, and at such time as hee thought convenient, -sent for divers of his kindred and friends from <i>Ravenna</i>, who being -present with him, thus hee spake to them.</p> - -<p>Deare Kinsmen and Friends, ye have a long while importuned mee, to -discontinue my over doating love to her, whom you all think, and I find -to be my mortall enemy: as also, to give over my lavish expences, wherein -I confesse my selfe too prodigal; both which requests of yours, I will -condiscend to, provided, that you will performe one gracious favour for -mee; Namely, that on Friday next, Signior <i>Paulo Traversario</i>, 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 mooving mee, you shall then -more at large be acquainted withall. This appeared no difficult matter -for them to accomplish: wherefore, being returned to <i>Ravenna</i>, and as -they found the time answerable to their purpose, they invited such as <i>Anastasio</i> -had appointed them. And although they found it somewhat an hard -matter, to gain her company whom he so deerely affected; yet notwithstanding, -the other women won her along with them.</p> - -<p>A most magnificent dinner had <i>Anastasio</i> provided, and the tables were -covered under 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 unkinde Mistresse, sate with her face opposite unto the place, -where the dismall spectacle was to be seene. About the closing up of dinner, -they beganne to heare the noise of the poore prosecuted Woman, -which drove them all to much admiration; desiring to know what it was, -and no one resolving 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 horseback, gallopping -fiercely after them with his drawn weapon, and came very nere -unto the company, who cryed out with lowd exclaimes against the dogs -and the Knight, stepping forth in assistance of the injuried woman.</p> - -<p>The Knight spake unto them, as formerly hee had done to <i>Anastasio</i>, -(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 unfortunate Woman, and likewise to the Knight, remembring -well both his love and death, did shed teares as plentifully, as if it had bin -to the very persons themselves, in visiall performance of the action indeede. -Which tragicall Scene being passed over, and the Woman and -Knight gone out of their sight: all that had seene this straunge accident, -fell into diversity of confused opinions, yet not daring to disclose them, -as doubting some further danger to ensue thereon.</p> - -<p>But beyond al the rest, none could compare in feare and astonishment -with the cruell yong Maide affected by <i>Anastasio</i>, who both saw and observed 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 -unkinde and cruell she had shewn her selfe to <i>Anastasio</i>, even as the other -Gentlewoman formerly did to her Lover, 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 prevent the -like heavy 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 love, which at the length shee fully obtayned, -and then purposed to prosecute in this manner.</p> - -<p>Secretly she sent a faithfull Chamber-maide of her owne, to greete -<i>Anastasio</i> on her behalfe; humbly entreating him to come see her: because -now she was absolutely determined, to give him satisfaction in all -which (with honour) he could request of her. Whereto <i>Anastasio</i> answered, -that he accepted her message thankfully, and desired no other favour -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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Anastasio</i>: which newes did so highly content them, that uppon -the Sunday next following, the mariage was very worthily sollemnized, -and they lived and loved together very kindly. Thus the divine 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 conversion, of a Maide so obstinately -scornfull and proud: but likewise al the women of <i>Ravenna</i> (being -admonished by her example) grew afterward more kinde and tractable -to mens honest motions, then ever they shewed themselves before. -And let me make some use hereof (faire Ladies) to you, not to stand over-nicely -conceited of your beauty and good parts, when men (growing -enamored of you by them) solicite you with their best and humblest -services. Remember then this disdainfull Gentlewoman, but more especially -her, who being the death of so kinde a Lover, 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 service.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Frederigo_of_the_Alberighi_Family_loved_a_Gentlewoman_and_was_not_requited" id="Frederigo_of_the_Alberighi_Family_loved_a_Gentlewoman_and_was_not_requited">Frederigo, <i>of the</i> Alberighi <i>Family, loved a Gentlewoman, and was not requited -with like love againe. By bountifull expences, and over liberall invitations, -he wasted and consumed all his lands and goods, having nothing left -him, but a Hawke or Faulcon. His unkinde Mistresse happeneth to come visite -him, and he not having 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.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The ninth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Wherein is figured to the life, the notable kindnesse and courtesie, of a true and -constant Lover: As also the magnanimous minde of a famous Lady.</i></h4> - - -<p>Madame <i>Philomena</i> having finished her discourse, the Queene perceiving, -that her turne was the next, in regard of the priviledge granted -to <i>Dioneus</i>; with a smiling countenance thus she spake. Now or never -am I to maintaine the order which was instituted when we beganne this -commendable exercise, whereto I yeeld with all humble obedience. And -(worthy Ladies) I am to acquaint you with a Novell, in some sort answerable -to the precedent, not onely to let you know, how powerfully -your kindnesses do prevaile, in such as have a free and gentle soule: but -also to advise you, in being bountifull, where vertue doth justly challenge -it. And evermore, let your favours shine on worthy deservers, without -the direction of chaunce or Fortune, who never bestoweth any gift by -discretion; but rashly without consideration, even to the first she blindly -meets withall.</p> - -<p>You are to understand then, that <i>Coppo di Borghese Domenichi</i>, who was -of our owne City, and perhaps (as yet) his name remaineth in great and -reverend authority, now in these dayes of ours, as well deserving 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 conversation among his neighbours, to talke of -matters concerning antiquity, and some other things within compasse -of his owne knowledge: which he would deliver in such singular order, -(having 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 us, that sometime there lived in <i>Florence</i> a yong -Gentleman, named <i>Frederigo</i>, Sonne to Signior <i>Philippo Alberigho</i>, who -was held and reputed, both for Armes, and all other actions beseeming a -Gentleman, hardly to have his equall through all <i>Tuscany</i>.</p> - -<p>This <i>Frederigo</i> (as it is no rare matter in yong Gentlemen) became enamored -of a Gentlewoman, named Madam <i>Giana</i>, who was esteemed (in -her time) to be the fairest and most gracious Lady in all <i>Florence</i>. In which -respect, and to reach the height of his desire, he made many sumptuous -Feasts and Banquets, Joustes, Tiltes, Tournaments, and all other noble -actions of Armes, beside, sending her infinite rich and costly presents, -making spare of nothing, but lashing all out in lavish expence. Notwithstanding, -shee being no lesse honest then faire, made no reckoning of -whatsoever he did for her sake, or the least respect of his owne person. So -that <i>Frederigo</i>, 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 live upon, -the silly revenewes 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 poverty, -no way quailing his love to the Lady, but rather setting a keener -edge thereon; he saw the City life could no longer containe him, where -most he coveted 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.</p> - -<p>While thus he continued in this extremity, it came to passe, that the -Husband to Madam <i>Giana</i> 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 unto him, if he chanced to die without a lawfull heire, hee -substituted his Wife, whom most dearely he affected, and so departed -out of this life. Madam <i>Giana</i> 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 <i>Frederigoes</i> Farme, and where he lived in such an honest kind of -contented poverty.</p> - -<p>Hereupon, the young Gentleman her Sonne, taking great delight in -Hounds and Hawkes; grew into familiarity with poore <i>Frederigo</i>, and having -seene many faire flights of his Faulcon, they pleased him so extraordinarily, -that he earnestly desired to enjoy her as his owne; yet durst not -move the motion for her, because he saw how choycely <i>Frederigo</i> esteemed -her. Within a short while after, the young Gentleman, became very -sicke, whereat his Mother greeved exceedingly, (as having no more but -he, and therefore loved him the more entirely) never 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 reveale it, and assuring -him withall, that (if it were within the compasse of possibility) he should -have it. The youth hearing how many times shee had made him these -offers, and with such vehement protestations of performance, at last thus -spake.</p> - -<p>Mother (quoth he) if you can doe so much for me, as that I may have -<i>Frederigoes</i> 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 <i>Frederigo</i> had most lovingly kept it, -not suffering it ever to be out of his sight. Moreover, shee remembred, -how earnest in affection he had beene to her, never thinking himselfe happy, -but onely when he was in her company; wherefore, shee entred into -this private 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 -ever flew? It is his onely Jewell of delight, and that taken from him, no -longer can he wish to live in this World. How farre then voide of understanding -shall I shew my selfe, to rob a Gentleman of his sole felicity, -having no other joy or comfort left him? These and the like considerations, -wheeled about her troubled braine, onely in tender care and love 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 resolve, -shee returned no answer to her Sonne, but sate still in her silent meditations. -At the length, love to the youth, so prevailed 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 -journey for the Faulcon, and assure thy selfe, that I will bring it with me. -Whereat the youth was so joyed, that he imagined, his sicknesse began instantly -a little to leave him, and promised him a speedy recovery.</p> - -<p>Somewhat early the next morning, the Lady, in care of her sicke Sons -health, was up and ready betimes, and taking another Gentlewoman with -her; onely as a mornings recreation, shee walked to <i>Frederigoes</i> poore -Countrey Farme, knowing that it would not a little glad him to see her. -At the time of her arrivall there, he was (by chance) in a silly Garden, on -the backe-side of his House, because (as yet) it was no convenient time -for flight: but when he heard, that Madam <i>Giana</i>, was come thither, and -desired to have some conference with him; as one almost confounded -with admiration, in all haste he ran to her, and saluted her with most humble -reverence. Shee in all modest and gracious manner, requited him -with the like salutations, thus speaking to him. <i>Signior Frederigo</i>, your -owne best wishes befriend you, I am now come hither, to recompence -some part of your passed travailes, which heretofore you pretended to -suffer for my sake, when your love 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 reverence, thus he replyed.</p> - -<p>Madam, I doe not remember, that ever 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 deservings, and by the service in which I did -stand engaged to you. But my present happinesse can no way bee equalled, -derived from your super-abounding gracious favour, and more then -common course of kindnesse, vouchsafing (of your owne liberal nature) -to come and visit so poore a servant. Oh that I had as much to spend againe, -as heeretofore riotously I have run thorow: what a welcome wold -your poore Host bestow upon you, for gracing this homely house with -your divine presence? With these wordes, hee conducted her into his -house, and then into his simple Garden, where having no convenient -company for her, he saide. Madam, the poverty of this place is such, that -it affoordeth none fit for your conversation: this poore woman, wife to -an honest Husbandman will attend on you, while I (with some speede) -shall make ready dinner.</p> - -<p>Poore <i>Frederigo</i>, although his necessity was extreame, and his greefe -great, remembring his former inordinate expences, a moity whereof -would now have stood him in some sted; yet hee had a heart as free and -forward as ever, not a jotte dejected in his minde, though utterly overthrowne -by Fortune. Alas! how was his good soule afflicted, that he had -nothing wherewith to honour his Lady? Up 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.</p> - -<p>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 covered 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 <i>Frederigo</i> not a little joyfull, that his credite -was so well saved. 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.</p> - -<p><i>Frederigo</i>, if you do yet remember your former carriage towards me, -as also my many modest and chaste denials, which (perhaps) you thought -to favour of a harsh, cruell, and un-womanly nature: I make no doubt, -but you will wonder at my present presumption, when you understande -the occasion, which expressely mooved me to come hither. But if you -were possessed of children, or ever had any, whereby you might comprehend -what love (in nature) is due unto them: then I durst assure my self, -that you would partly hold mee excused.</p> - -<p>Now, in regard that you never had any, and I my selfe (for my -part) have but 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 adverse 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 straungely 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 love you have born me, for thereby -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 give 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 saved, and wee both shall for ever remaine engaged to you.</p> - -<p>When <i>Frederigo</i> had heard the Ladies request, which was now quite -out of his power to graunt, because it had bene her service at dinner: he -stood like a man meerely dulled in his sences, the teares trickling amaine -downe his cheekes: and he not able to utter one word. Which shee perceiving, -began to conjecture 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 have it. Neverthelesse shee did not speake, but rather -tarried to attend his answer. Which, after some small respite and pawse, -he returned in this manner.</p> - -<p>Madame, since the houre, when first mine affection became soly devoted -to your service; Fortune hath bene crosse and contrary to mee, in -many occasions, as justly, 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 utter overthrow, and perpetuall molestation. -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 have 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.</p> - -<p>So soone as I heard, that it was your gracious pleasure to dine with -me, having regard to your excellency, and what (by merit) is justly due -unto 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 having drest hir, so well -as I could devise to do: you have fed hartily on her, and I am proud that -I have so well bestowne her. But perceiving now, that you would have -her for your sicke Sonne; it is no meane affliction to mee, that I am disabled -of yeelding you contentment, which all my lifetime I have desired -to doe.</p> - -<p>To approve 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 whatsoever. Yet she commended -his height of spirit, which poverty had no power to abase. Lastly, her -hopes being frustrate for enjoying the Faulcon, and fearing besides the -health of her Sonne: she thanked <i>Frederigo</i> for his honourable kindnesse, -returning home againe sad and melancholly. Shortly after, her sonne either -greeving that he could not have the Faulcone, or by extreamity of -his disease, chanced to dye, leaving his mother a most wofull Lady.</p> - -<p>After so much time was expired, as conveniently might agree with sorrow -and mourning; her Brethren made many motions to her, to joyne -her selfe in marriage againe, because she was extraordinarily rich, and as -yet but yong in yeares. Now, although she was well contented never to -be married any more; yet being continually importuned by them, and -remembring the honourable honesty of <i>Frederigo</i>, 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 never leave it: but seeing you are so earnest for my second marriage, -let me plainly tell you, that I will never accept of any other husband, -but onely <i>Frederigo di Alberino</i>.</p> - -<p>Her brethren in scornfull manner reprooved 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 sorry for it. But give 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 <i>Frederigo</i> to bee a -worthy Gentleman, though poverty had disgraced him in the Worlde: -consented thereto, so she bestowed her selfe and her riches on him. He on -the other side, having so noble a Lady to his Wife, and the same whome -he had so long and deerely loved: submitted all his fairest Fortunes unto -her, became a better husband (for the world) then before, and they lived -and loved together in equall joy and happinesse.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="Pedro_di_Vinciolo_went_to_sup_at_a_friends_House_in_the_City_His_Wife_in_the" id="Pedro_di_Vinciolo_went_to_sup_at_a_friends_House_in_the_City_His_Wife_in_the">Pedro di Vinciolo <i>went to sup at a friends House in the City. His Wife (in the -meane while) had a young man (whom shee loved) at supper with her.</i> Pedro -<i>returning whom upon a sudden, the young man was hidden under a Coope -for Hennes.</i> Pedro, <i>in excuse of his so soone comming home, declareth, how -in the House of</i> Herculano <i>(with whom he should have supt) a friend of his -Wives was found, which was the reason of the Suppers breaking off.</i> Pedroes -<i>Wife reproving the error of</i> Herculanoes <i>Wife; An Asse (by chance) -treads on the young mans fingers, that lay hidden under the Hen-Coope. Uppon -his crying out,</i> Pedro <i>steppeth thither, sees him, knowes him, and findeth -the fallacy of his Wife: with whom (neverthelesse) he groweth to agreement, -in regard of some imperfections in himselfe.</i></a></h4> - -<h2>The tenth Novell.</h2> - -<h4><i>Reprehending the cunning shifts, of light headed and immodest Women, who, -by abusing themselves, doe throw evill aspersions on all the Sexe.</i></h4> - - -<p>The Queenes Novell being ended, and all the company applauding -the happy fortune of <i>Frederigo</i>, as also the noble nature of Madam -<i>Giana: Dioneus</i>, who never expected any command, prepairing to deliver -his discourse, began in this manner. I know not, whether I should terme -it a vice accidental, and ensuing through the badnesse of complexions uppon -us mortals; or else an error in Nature, to joy and smile rather at lewd -accidents, then at deeds that justly deserve commendation, especially, -when they doe not any way concerne our selves. Now, in regard that all -the paines I have hitherto taken, and am also to undergoe 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 favour a little of immodesty; yet -in hearing it, you may observe the same course, as you doe in pleasing -and delightfull Gardens, plucke a sweete Rose, and yet preserve 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 urgent necessity -doth require it.</p> - -<p>There dwelt (not long since) in <i>Perugia</i>, a wealthy man, named <i>Pedro di -Vinciolo</i>, who (perhaps) more to deceive some other, and restraine an evill -opinion, which the <i>Perugians</i> had conceived 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 unkind courses, upbraided -him daily with harsh speeches, making his owne home meerely -as a hell to him.</p> - -<p>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 private -thoughts. This Husband of mine liveth with me, as if he were no Husband, -or I his Wife; the marriage bed, which should be a comfort to us -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 conversation -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 never 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 have coopt my selfe up in -a Cloyster, and shorne my selfe a Nunne, but that I was not borne to such -severity of life. My youth shall be blasted with age, before I can truly understand -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 leave our memoriall to after times in our race, as all our predecessours -formerly have 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 living -among so many temptations, which flesh and bloud are not alwayes able -to resist. Well, I meane to be advised in this case, before I will hazard -my honest reputation, either to suspition or scandall, then which, no woman -can have two heavier enemies, and very few there are that can escape -them.</p> - -<p>Having 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 (over and over) her <i>Pater nosters</i>, -and all the Cities holy pardons hanging at her girdle, never talking of any -thing, but the lives of the holy Fathers, or the wounds of Saint <i>Frances</i>, -all the World admiring her sanctity of life, even as if shee were divinely -inspired: this she Saint must be our distressed womans Councellour, and -having found out a convenient season, at large she imparted all her mind -to her, in some such manner as formerly you have heard, whereto shee -returned this answere.</p> - -<p>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 error in this -life, then the losse of time, because it cannot be recovered againe; and -when the fiends themselves affright us, yet if we keepe our embers still covered -with warme ashes on the hearth, they have nor any power to hurt -us. If any one can truly speake thereof, then I am able to deliver true testimony; -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 have 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 small hearts griefe to me, that age should make me utterly despised, -and no fire afforded to light my tinder.</p> - -<p>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 serve onely for mens contentation, and to bring children, -and therefore are they generally beloved, which if they faile of, either it is -by unfortunate marriage, or some imperfection depending on nature, not -through want of good will in themselves. We have nothing in this world -but what is given us, in which regard, we are to make use of our time, and -employ it the better while we have it. For, when we grow to be old, our -Husbands, yea, our very dearest and nearest friends, will scarcely looke -on us. 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 shelves. -Nay, which is worse, rimes and songs is made of us, even 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 reversion as they can spare us. I tell thee Daughter, -thou couldst not make choyce of a meeter woman in all the City, to -whom thou mightest safely open thy minde, and knowes better to advise -thee then I doe. But remember withall, that I am poore, and it is your -part not to suffer poverty to be unsupplyed. I will make thee partaker of -all these blessed pardons, at every Altar I will say a <i>Pater noster</i>, and an <i>Ave -Maria</i>, that thou maist prosper in thy hearts desires, and be defended from -foule sinne and shame, and so shee ended her Motherly counsell.</p> - -<p>Within a while after, it came to passe, that her Husband was invited -foorth to Supper, with one named <i>Herculano</i>, 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 <i>Perugia</i> 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 perceived, shee was almost halfe dead with feare, and coveting -to hide the young man, that her Husband should not have any sight of -him, shee had no other meanes, but in an entry, hard by the Parlour where -they purposed to have supt, stood a Coope or Hen-pen, wherein she used -to keepe her Pullen, under which he crept, and then shee covered 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 -she saide: It seemes Sir you are a shaver at your meate, that you have -made so short a supper. In troth Wife (quoth he) I have 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.</p> - -<p>As <i>Herculano</i>, his wife, and I were sitting downe at the Table, very neere -unto us we heard one sneeze, whereof at the first we made no reckoning, -untill 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, <i>Herculanoes</i> -wife kept the doore fast shut against us, and would not let us 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 perceived, -that the party was hidden there, which wee had heard so often to sneeze -before.</p> - -<p>No sooner had he opened the doore, but such a smell of brimston came -foorth (whereof we felt not the least savour before) as made us likewise -to cough and sneeze, being no way able to refraine it. She seeing her Husband -to be much moved, excused the matter thus, that (but a little while -before) shee had whited certaine linnen with the smoake of brimstone, -as it is an usuall thing to doe, and then set the pan into that spare place, because -it should not be offensive to us. By this time, <i>Herculano</i> 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, even as if his heart would have -split in twaine. Foorth he pluckt him by the heeles, and perceiving how -matters had past, he saide to her. I thanke you Wife, now I see the reason, -why you kept us 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 discovery of her shame; without returning either excuse or -answere, foorth of doores she ran, but whither, we know not. <i>Herculano</i> -drew his Dagger, and would have 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 recovered; by the perswasion of some Neighbours comming -in: he was closely conveyed out of the house, and all the noyse -quietly pacified. Onely (by this meanes, and the flight of <i>Herculanoes</i> wife) -we were disappointed of our Supper; and now you know the reason of -my so soone returning.</p> - -<p>When she had heard this whole discourse, then she perceived, that other -Women were subject to the like infirmity, and as wise for themselves, -as shee could be, though these and the like sinister accidents might sometimes -crosse them, and gladly she wished, that <i>Herculanoes</i> Wifes excuse, -might now serve to acquite her: but because in blaming others errors, our -owne may sometime chance to escape discovery, and cleare us, albeit we -are as guilty; in a sharpe reprehending manner, thus she began. See Husband, -here is hansome behaviour, of an holy faire seeming, and Saint-like -woman, to whom I durst have confest my sinnes, I conceived such a religious -perswasion of her lives integrity, free from the least scruple of taxation. -A woman, so farre stept into yeeres, as shee is, to give such an evill -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 given; an universall shame -and slaunder, to all the good women of our City.</p> - -<p>Shall I terme her a woman, or rather some savage monster in a womans -shape? Hath shee not made am 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 wives; what -an heart-breake must this needes be to him, good man? Neither I, nor any -honest man else, ought to have 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.</p> - -<p>Then, remembring her owne case, and her poore affrighted friend, who -lay in such distresse under the Hen-coope; shee began to advise her Husband, -that he would be pleased to goe to bed, because the night passed on -apace. But <i>Pedro</i>, having a better will to eate, then to sleepe, desired her -to let him have some meate, else hee must goe to bed with an empty bellie; -whereto shee answered. Why Husband (quoth shee) do I make any -large provision, when I am debard of your company? I would I were -the wife of <i>Herculano</i>, seeing you cannot content your selfe from one -nights feeding, considering, it is now over-late to make any thing -ready.</p> - -<p>It fortuned, that certaine Husbandmen, which had the charge of <i>Pedroes</i> -Farme house in the Countrey, and there followed his affaires of -Husbandry, were returned home this instant night, having their Asses laden -with such provision, as was to be used in his City-house. When the -Asses were unladen, and set up 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 under the Hen-pen. Now, he being constrained -(like a Carpe) to lie flat on his belly, because the Coope was over-weighty -for him to carry, and one of his hands more extended forth, then -was requisite for him in so urgent 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 <i>Pedro</i> hearing, he wondered thereat not a little.</p> - -<p>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 removed not his foote, but rather trod the more firmely -on his hand. Comming to the Coope, driving thence the Asse, and taking -off the old sacke, he espyed the young man, who, beside the painfull -anguish he felt of his fingers, arose up trembling, as fearing some outrage -beside to be offered him by <i>Pedro</i>, 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 doe -him any harme. Feare not (quoth <i>Pedro</i>) I will not offer thee any violence: -onely tel me how thou camest hither, and for what occasion; wherein -the youth fully resolved him.</p> - -<p><i>Pedro</i> being no lesse joyfull 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 -use (even now) against the wife of <i>Herculano</i>, maintaining that shee had -shamed all other women, and justly deserved 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 urged you thereto, but that all women -are of one and the same condition, covering their owne grosse faults -by farre inferiour infirmities in others. You are a perverse generation, -meerely false in your fairest shewes.</p> - -<p>When she saw that he offered her no other violence, but gave 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 <i>Herculano</i>, who is an -olde, dissembling hypocrite? yet she can have of him whatsoever she desireth, -and he useth her as a woman ought to be, which favour I could never -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 every way as -necessarily required, both for the preservation 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 leave some remembrance -of woman-hood behind me. I tell thee plainly <i>Pedro</i>, I am a woman -as others are, and subject 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 endeavour thou to win the worthy -title of a Father, because I was made to be a Mother.</p> - -<p>When <i>Pedro</i> perceived, that his Wife had spoken nothing but reason, -in regard of his over-much neglect towards her, and not using 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 anything, 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 <i>Pedro</i>, all is forgotten and forgiven, let us to supper, and we are -all friends. She seeing his anger was so well appeased, lovingly kissed him, -and laying the cloth, set on the supper, which shee had provided for her -selfe & the youth, and so they supt together merrily, not one unkind word -passing betweene them. After supper, the youth was sent away in friendly -manner, and <i>Pedro</i> was alwayes afterward more loving to his Wife, then -formerly he had been, and no complaint passed on either side, but mutuall -joy and houshold contentment, such as ought to be betweene man and -wife.</p> - -<p><i>Dioneus</i> having ended his Tale, for which the Ladies returned him no -thankes, but rather angerly frowned on him: the Queene, knowing that -her government was now concluded, arose, and taking off her Crowne of -Lawrell, placed it graciously on the head of Madam <i>Eliza</i>, saying. Now -Madam, it is your turne to command. <i>Eliza</i> having received 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.</p> - -<p>We have long since heard, that with witty words, ready answers, and -sudden jests or taunts, many have checkt & reproved 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, have -encountred a scorner in his owne intention, and layed the blame where it -justly belonged. Every one commended the Queenes appointment, because -it savoured of good wit and judgement; and the Queene being risen, they -were all discharged till supper time, falling to such severall exercises -as themselves best fancyed.</p> - -<p>When supper was ended, and the instruments layed before them; by -the Queenes consent, Madam <i>Æmillia</i> undertooke the daunce, and the -Song was appointed to <i>Dioneus</i>, who began many, but none that proved -to any liking, they were so palpably obscene and idle, savouring 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.</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">The Song.<br /></span> -</i></div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">Eyes, can ye not refraine your hourely weeping?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eares, how are you deprivde of sweete attention?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thoughts, have you lost your quiet silent sleeping?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wit, who hath robde thee of thy rare invention?<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The lacke of these, being life and motion giving:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Are sencelesse shapes, and no true signes of living.<br /></span> -</i></div><div class="stanza"><i> -<span class="i0">Eyes, when you gazde upon her Angell beauty;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eares, while you heard her sweete delicious straines,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thoughts (sleeping then) did yet performe their duty,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wit, then tooke sprightly pleasure in his paines.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">While shee did live, then none of these were scanting,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">But now (being dead) they all are gone and wanting.<br /></span> -</i></div></div> - -<p>After that <i>Dioneus</i> (by proceeding no further) declared the finishing -of his Song; many more were sung beside, and that of <i>Dioneus</i> highly commended. -Some part of the night being spent in other delightfull exercises, -and a fitting houre for rest drawing on: they betooke themselves to -their Chambers, where we will leave them till to morrow morning.</p> - - -<h4><i>The end of the Fifth Day.</i></h4> - - -<h4>FINIS.</h4> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Decameron (Day 1 to Day 5), by -Giovanni Boccaccio - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DECAMERON (DAY 1 TO DAY 5) *** - -***** This file should be named 52617-h.htm or 52617-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/6/1/52617/ - -Produced by Clare Graham and Marc D'Hooghe at -http://www.freeliterature.org (Images generously made -available by the Internet Archive.) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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